Hi berries!
I think all these “I’ll _____ your names” threads are so fun—calligraphy, aesthetic boards, etc., etc., but I’m a storyteller at heart, and I thought this might be super fun. Maybe not a full story, but it’ll be some creative writing for sure, and each one will be unique. Wouldn’t we all like to see our favorite combos being heroes or heroines? 
Because I’m incredibly busy, one combo only, please, and I promise to do my best to get to everyone’s combos as quickly as I can. 
Miroquinn [name_m]Anson[/name_m]
Will you do [name_f]Suzy[/name_f] [name_f]Lilias[/name_f]?
Anneliese [name_f]Talitha[/name_f]
Could you do [name_f]Amparo[/name_f] Meritxell?
Could you do [name_f]Peggy[/name_f] [name_f]Josephine[/name_f] for me please?
If you have time, could you do [name_f]Shona[/name_f] [name_f]Marigold[/name_f], please 
Aw this is such a fun idea! Could you do [name_f]Francie[/name_f] [name_f]Marigold[/name_f]? Thank you!
This sounds so intriguing! Whenever you happen to get to it, would you be willing to do [name_u]Elliott[/name_u] [name_m]Harrison[/name_m], please?
This is so fun! I’m having a hard time picking one, so it’s between [name_f]Jemima[/name_f] [name_f]Clementine[/name_f] or [name_f]Susan[/name_f] [name_f]Marigold[/name_f]—pick whichever one sparks your creativity!
Ooh, I love this idea! I’d love a story about either [name_m]Edgar[/name_m] [name_u]Lionel[/name_u] [name_m]Benet[/name_m] or [name_m]Hugo[/name_m] [name_m]Nicanor[/name_m] [name_m]Edmund[/name_m], whichever speaks more to you 
I’m sure these take time, and I appreciate you putting forth your creative passion and time for this! Whenever you get there, I’d love to see [name_u]Marion[/name_u] [name_u]Sage[/name_u]! 
this is so very kind of you!! if you have the time, I’d love to hear what you come up with for [name_u]Ruby[/name_u] [name_f]Elanor[/name_f]!
thank you so much in advance, i hope you have a wonderful day!!
Blair Waterlily? 
I love this! Could you do [name_m]Draco[/name_m] [name_m]Adonis[/name_m]?
Could I please have [name_f]Felicity[/name_f] [name_u]Lark[/name_u]? Thanks in advance 
Awesome idea! If you get the chance, I would love to see what you come up with for [name_f]Sedona[/name_f] [name_u]Kacey[/name_u]!
This sounds amazing
[name_f]Octavia[/name_f] [name_f]Lucille[/name_f] please
[name_m]Miro[/name_m]-[name_u]Quinn[/name_u] [name_m]Anson[/name_m]
by ashthedreamer (
)
[name_m]Miro[/name_m]-[name_u]Quinn[/name_u] [name_m]Anson[/name_m] closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He could feel the grooves of the splintered wooden bench beneath him. Felt the gentle, heady wisteria breeze caress around him, up his spine and around his right arm, and he felt some measure of peace.
Children laughed several hundred yards away, and he heard the feeble voice of an ojichan and a younger, feminine voice speaking in hushed, urgent tones as they walked by his perch, his cane tapping a staccato rhythm as he was rushed along. A koi jumped out of the pond behind him, and he heard the whispered splash as it dove back in.
The sun seeped past his skin and into his bones, and he released the air from his lungs. Breathe in. Breathe out. [name_m]Just[/name_m] breathe.
This Japanese garden had become his sanctuary, his haven from his own demons. If he let them, they’d come roaring down this pathway and destroy everything in sight.
With a determined snap of his thoughts, he shut out every opportunity for those thoughts to steal his peace, and he squeezed a small dollop of white paint onto his easel, followed by some blue, and a little red, mixing them together to fashion the shade of wisteria purple surrounding him, where he sat just off the main part of his walkway. He didn’t give a thought to the juxtaposition of the delicate paintbrush held in his strong hand, the thick muscles rippling under his old painting hoodie. Some might’ve asked about it, but it was none of their business. Working as quickly as he could with his chosen medium, he fashioned the tunnel of wisteria over the background he’d fashioned 4 days ago when he started this oil painting. The annoying side of layering the paint thick was that oils took forever to dry.
Like this painting, his peace came in intervals.
He wasn’t running anymore. It may have started that way, but Kitakyushu had become his haven, his sanctuary, his foundation to build on. He would not think of that convoy, he would not think about that blistering Baghdadi afternoon, the kid with the wide, terrified black eyes with the vest straight from hell or the order shouted in his ear as he sighted the kid through his scope. He would not think his name. [name_m]Abbas[/name_m] [name_m]Khaled[/name_m]. [name_m]Abbas[/name_m] [name_m]Khaled[/name_m]. [name_m]Abbas[/name_m] Khale… He was just a kid, he was just a kid!
[name_m]Miro[/name_m] (he was no longer [name_m]Miro[/name_m]-[name_u]Quinn[/name_u], he wanted no ties to the camaraderie of the Marines nor the familiar MQ that’d come with it) shuddered a deep breath, inhaled (one), exhaled (two), inhaled (three), exhaled (four). The counting helped. He listened to the birds chirping through the wisteria and the faraway sound of the waves hitting the shore at the far end of the garden, past the curtain of wisteria shutting out the world. Help me! he pled, and he wasn’t even sure to whom.
He picked up his paintbrush again, confident enough to go on, and added more details. The gravel of the pathway, definition to the blades of grass, a hunched-over ojichan with a twinkle of hope in his eyes, welling with tears, his arms open wide. He caught, in motion, the sobo, flying into his arms, somehow capturing the anticipation and joy of the reunion. In his mind, they were star-crossed lovers, he poor, she rich and proud, hopelessly in love, separated for nearly 70 years by Nagasaki and its fallout. She, a now-American widow, he a rail worker who had lost his love and his purpose in 1945.
[name_m]Miro[/name_m] put the finishing touches on her light pea coat, and glanced up at the commotion 100 feet away from him. “Shirou, Shirou, Shirou!” she cried over and over again, her umbrella forgotten on the ground, his cane the same on her other side. Tears coursed down his weathered cheeks, and her face was cupped in his hands. A look of wonder filled his eyes.
“[name_f]Emi[/name_f], [name_f]Emi[/name_f], my love!”
He glanced between his painting and the couple, the details exactly the same, down to the jagged scar on Shirou’s left cheek, an injury from the days after Nagasaki, and pale lavender ribbon tied into [name_f]Emi[/name_f]’s hair. Despite his best intentions, tears blurred [name_m]Miro[/name_m]’s own vision, and he slowly packed up his things. His work here was done.
This never got old.
He wasn’t sure when he first realized this gift of his, this ability to paint things that became reality before his eyes, but he couldn’t help the gratitude bursting in his heart. Maybe a lifetime of reuniting loved ones and healing others’ hearts would do the same for him. He’d begun to fill his days with saving lives and reuniting families and providing joy. What would tomorrow bring?
“[name_m]Miro[/name_m]! [name_m]Miro[/name_m] like [name_m]Hiro[/name_m]!!”
Laughter bubbled up in his chest as his dearest and only friend darted around tourists with an eager look on his face. “How many times do I have to tell you, [name_m]Kenji[/name_m]? It’s just [name_m]Miro[/name_m]!”
“We must hurry! The orchestra begins in one hour! I promised [name_f]Amaya[/name_f] we would not be late!” [name_m]Kenji[/name_m] had begun to pull on [name_m]Miro[/name_m]’s arm and drag him across the pathway toward where he had parked his car.
“I’m coming, [name_m]Kenji[/name_m], I’m coming!” Laughter bubbled up out of him.
It was good to have found a home.
[name_f]Hope[/name_f] you enjoyed! 
This sounds interesting! [name_f]Marnie[/name_f] [name_u]Dove[/name_u]? TIA!