#but I just absolutely love Jubilation's design

[sbd-laytall]

The Others: *witty responses*

Logan & Scott: *flirting*

X-Men (1991) #8

[justlemmeadoreyou]

hi<3

okay just an idea but like hb a one shot of harry and yn having an Indian wedding??

I WOULD MELT

i mixed it up a bit! hope you don't mind but I added some dancing in between! hehe

words: 2.2k

warnings: cute fluff, alludes to smut!

The sound of jubilant music and joyous laughter filled the air as Y/N took Harry's hands in her own, gazing at him with all the love in her heart.

It was the day they had been dreaming of for what felt like an eternity - their beautiful Indian wedding celebration. After months of careful planning and preparation, it was finally time to declare their everlasting love and commitment in front of their closest family and friends.

As Y/N looked into Harry's bright green eyes, she felt herself getting choked up with happy tears. He was the most gorgeous sight she had ever seen in his ivory sherwani with delicate embroidery and a baby pink safa atop his unruly chestnut curls. A radiant smile lit up his entire face as he mouthed "I love you" to her.

Y/N hoped her own appearance took Harry's breath away just as much. She was draped in a stunning red and gold lengha with the most intricate designs she had ever seen. Golden jewelry adorned her neck, wrists and fingers, while a striking tikka rested on her forehead. After hours of professionalmehndi application, her hands and feet were works of art covered in the most beautiful henna patterns.

Their wedding mandap looked like it was straight out of a dream, covered in layers of vibrant red fabric and masses of exotic flowers. The entire venue was bursting with rich colors, from the ornate rugs underfoot to the twinkling strings of lights hanging overhead. Harry and Y/N had spent endless hours with the planners to ensure every last detail was absolutely perfect for commemorating this special day properly.

As the ceremonies began, they went through each traditional rite and ritual with profound reverence and care. When the time came to exchange floral varmala garlands, Harry could barely contain his boyish grin as he struggled slightly to get the hanging blooms around Y/N's neck. She laughed lightly as she did the same for him, feeling like her heart could burst with love and happiness in that moment.

The ceremonies paused briefly for the jaimala, a ritual where the couple tried to be the first to successfully garland each other. Amid a chorus of cheers from the guests, Y/N and Harry playfully danced around for several minutes, narrowly missing each other until finally Harry swept in and captured Y/N's neck with the floral necklace.

She gasped in delight as he pulled her in close, pressing their foreheads together tenderly. "I've got you forever now," he murmured, just for her to hear. Y/N felt herself melt at the warmth and adoration in his voice as she reached up to cradle his face in her hands.

"And I've got you," she whispered back reverently. "Always and forever."

Harry leaned in to capture her lips in a soft, lingering kiss, forgetting about their audience for a brief moment. A joyous howl went up from the guests that broke them apart with sheepish grins. Their loved ones had anxiously awaited this special union, and they were determined to savor every second of it.

The rest of the rituals and pheras passed by in a beautiful, colorful blur. Y/N felt herself getting choked up again as they took their sacred vows, promising to love, honor and cherish one another until their very last breaths. Harry gazed at her adoringly, stroking her cheek tenderly with his thumb as they repeated the powerful words.

"You are my soulmate, my partner, my everything," he said throatily, his eyes shining with unshed tears of happiness. "Thank you for making me the luckiest man in the world by becoming my wife."

Unable to contain herself a moment longer, Y/N let a few tears slip free as she beamed at her new husband. She leaned up on her tiptoes to wind her arms around his neck, pulling him in close.

"There is no one else on this earth I would rather spend my life with than you," she said in a trembling voice thick with emotion. "I am so grateful to now be your wife, and to finally be able to call you my husband. I love you endlessly, Harry."

The tenderness of their embrace was only broken by the sound of loud cheers and clapping as their guests celebrated the joyous union. It was official - Harry and Y/N were finally married, bonded together for all of eternity.

As the ceremonies concluded, everyone made their way to the outdoor reception area where the real festivities could begin. Servers circulated with trays of delicious Indian delicacies, from vegetable samosas and pakoras to spicy curries and flaky, buttery naan bread. One of the first dances kicked off with Harry and Y/N taking center stage, all gazingadoringly at each other as they swayed to the romantic hindi music.

"My beautiful wife," Harry murmured in her ear as they slowly revolved on the dance floor. "I don't think I'll ever get tired of calling you that."

Y/N's face lit up in a bright smile as she gave him an eskimo kiss. "And I'll never get tired of being called your wife, my husband."

Eventually it was time for the grand sangeet celebration, filled with vibrant musical and dance performances from all of their loved ones. It brought tears of laughter and joy to Harry and Y/N's eyes as they watched silly skits, entertaining dances, and heartfelt songs dedicated to their everlasting love.

When their own performance came around, Y/N's heart was pounding in her chest with excited nerves. For months they had been secretly rehearsing an intricate choreographed dance routine to a romantic hindi mashup. As the first few notes of the song rang out, Y/N locked eyes with Harry, giving him a breathtaking smile. There was nowhere else she would rather be than on that dance floor with him, her husband, her forever love.

Harry smiled back like she had hung every star in the night sky, his eyes shining with pure adoration. Even after months together, Y/N's beauty and the depth of love she had for him still managed to take his breath away.

Their dance was utterly captivating and joyous, filled with playful movements and longing gazes as they spun and twisted around each other. At one particularly romantic section, Harry couldn't resist gathering Y/N up into his strong arms, dipping her low as she arched back in a graceful curve. They hovered like that, faces mere inches apart, both of them breathing heavily with beaming smiles.

"I love you so much," Harry mouthed to her fervently before pulling Y/N back up to crush his lips against hers in a heated, passionate kiss.

A roar of approval and applause sounded around them from their cheering guests. They didn't care one bit, choosing instead to lose themselves in their tender liplock for a few heated moments before finally pulling apart, dizzy and breathless with elation.

"And I love you eternally, my husband," Y/N whispered ardently, tracing the line of Harry's parted lips with the pad of her thumb.

The incredible night seemed to whirl by in an unstoppable blur of celebrating, feasting, singing and dancing after that. Every time Y/N locked eyes with Harry, she felt her heart overflow with the depths of her love and commitment for this incredible man that was now her spouse. His radiant smile and looks of pure adoration warmed her down to her very soul.

As the hours ticked by, Y/N felt herself growing weary but still riding cloud nine from the blissful events. Harry seemed to sense her fatigue, coming up behind her to wrap his arms around her waist and press a soft kiss to her temple.

"What do you say we get out of here, wife?" he murmured in a low rumble against her skin. "I've got plans for celebrating our new marriage in private…"

Y/N immediately felt a rush of heated desire course through her veins at his suggestive words and tone. She grinned and turned in his arms, pressing a sensual kiss to his parted lips.

"Whatever you say, husband," she replied huskily.

The two of them slipped away from the raging celebration largely unnoticed, both too eager to begin their new life together as spouses. Every second felt so surreal and dreamlike to Y/N, a real-life fairy tale come to life. She felt so incredibly blessed and overflowing with love.

Once they made it back to the privacy of their honeymoon suite, Harry effortlessly swept Y/N up into his arms like she weighed nothing. She let out a surprised giggle, winding her arms around his neck as he carried her over the threshold. His lips instantly crashed into hers in a searing kiss filled with fiery passion and overwhelming love.

They stumbled their way across the romantic suite, shedding clothes and flowers as they went, unable to get enough of each other. Whispered words of adoration and biblical devotion were exchanged between heated kisses and roaming caresses.

Finally, Harry laid Y/N down on the plush bed covered in fragrant rose petals, hovering over her in breathless awe. His talented fingers deftly undid the remaining jewels and ornaments adorning her body until just her beautiful bare skin remained.

"You are the most gorgeous creature I've ever laid eyes on," he rasped out, trailing reverent kisses along the delicate golden patterns of her mehndi. "My breath was taken away the second I saw you today."

Y/N felt a fresh wave of desire crash over her at his words, a soft whimper escaping her parted lips as his mouth continued worshipping every inch of her. She pulled him back up, crashing their lips together in a tangled dance of tongues and teeth while her nails raked deliciously down the taut muscles of his back.

"And you looked positively sinful, my love," she panted heavily between fevered kisses. "Like the most delectable dream come to life right before my eyes."

Harry growled low in the back of his throat, rolling them over until Y/N was straddling his hips. He looked up at her with hooded, lust-blown eyes, skimming his large palms reverently over the curves of her body.

"You're going to be the most beautiful sight to wake up to for the rest of my days," he said in a gravelly rumble.

Y/N could only whimper and capture his full lips in another bruising kiss as she rolled her hips wantonly against his nude form. The friction and delicious heat between them quickly became maddening with need. Soon they were joined together, moving in an ancient rhythm of love and desire.

All the emotions of the joyous day came pouring out in their lovemaking - the uncontainable happiness, the bone-deep reverence, the overwhelming passion, the profound intimacy. Harry and Y/N clung to each other like they were the only anchor in the raging sea, breathing celestial words of worship and forever into kiss-swollen mouths.

"Mine…my husband…my eternal love…" Y/N chanted like a prayer as her nails dug deliciously into the strong muscles of Harry's shoulders.

"My gorgeous wife," Harry groaned back in adoration, capturing her lips in a searing liplock as their arching bodies found blessed release and sublime rapture together.

The newlyweds laid spent and utterly sated in the tangled cocoon of the sheets afterward, both glowing with the afterglow of their sacred union.

"To have and to hold, for better or worse, for richer or poorer…" Harry murmured, reciting the marriage vows as he nuzzled his face into Y/N's neck, placing tender kisses along her fluttering pulse point. "In sickness and health…until death do us part."

Y/N turned her head, finding his mouth with her own to kiss him deeply and devotedly. "I am yours, and you are mine," she whispered the solemn promise against his parted lips. "From this day forward, until our souls leave this earth."

Harry let out a trembling exhalation at the powerful words, gathering his wife even closer to his body. He felt utterly undone and overwhelmed by the depths of his all-encompassing love for her. After years of searching, he had found his soulmate, his twin flame, his everything.

"I've never felt more complete, more whole, than I do in this very moment with you," he said in a hushed, reverential tone. "My love for you defies articulation, Y/N. You are my heart, my light, my forever."

Their mouths collided in a searing, all-encompassing liplock then, pouring every ounce of their overwhelming love and commitment into the heated embrace. In that singular, blissful moment, there was nothing else in the entire universe except the profound, everlasting truth of their fated union.

As the newlyweds eventually drifted off in a tangle of sated, sleepy limbs, Y/N felt like the luckiest woman in the world to call this incredible man her husband. And Harry felt like the most blessed man alive to have Y/N as his wife, bound together for eternity through their sacred vows and unbreakable love.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

feedback | masterlist

[angel-of-the-moons]

I absolutely adore the new Pavitr fic you did! I constantly think of the idea of being a mother slash parental figure to Pav. Now you’ve got me thinking ‘BUT WHAT IF THE ROLES WERE REVERSED?’. Omg okay but would that be okay to request? If it isn’t too much to request and it wouldn’t be redundant? I just LOVE Found Family hurt to comfort angst fluff 🥹🥺

Edit: Originally I planned on combining this with another ask, but like Imma just do it here because I got conflicting ideas because of ADHD

Spider-Pup

(Platonic!Big Brother Figure!Pavitr x Spider Society Rookie)

TW/CW: Injuries, Possible Death, Blood, Pavitr's anxiety getting the better of him

MINORS DNI: I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

You weren't much younger than he was, real fresh-faced and bushy-tailed, as they say.

Even your suit was practically generic, off-the-rack copy of one of the Peter Parkers' suits.

Hopeful, jubilant, and a bit naive if he was being honest.

But that is precisely why Pavitr liked you. You reminded him of himself. And, naturally, he took to offering to go with you on missions. It was nice to work with a like-minded, sunny-headed individual such as yourself.

The way you'd swing around HQ, crack jokes, pull pranks...

You were a sweet person, but sometimes your sweetness can be a real weakness. (Pavitr would know, seriously.)

Your whole personality was endearing, everyone around you loved you. Even Pavitr, in a way. Being around you had triggered some kinda feeling inside him that just said "protect the bean child" every time he was around you.

Jessica had chuckled at him one day and said "congrats on adopting the newbie" and that his "big brother instincts" woke up whenever you were around.

He vehemently denied it of course. For whatever reason.

But everyone knew it and called him out on his little fib.

Even Miguel would assign him to missions with you by default just to keep him from annoying him when he got back and you weren't there.

"What if they need my help? Where are they? Who are they fighting? Have they called you back yet? Have they called Lyla?"

Miguel just didn't want another headache, and it saved time.

But right now?

Right now was probably the worst day of Pavitr's life, recently.

You were on a mission, fighting some kind of variant of Doc Ock. His new mechanical arms designed to shoot projectiles.

You failed to dodge in time.

You got one spike in the shoulder, and the other right in your gut. Because you were still alive, one of the other Spideys said you were lucky and it missed your liver and spleen, because you didn't bleed to death like, on the spot.

It didn't ease his fears at all. Not when your blood soaked into his gloves, staining the front of his suit as he carried you through the portal, rushing you back into HQ.

Doc Ock had been beaten, but Pavitr was more concerned about you. You so reminded him of the stray pups he fed in the alleys back in Mumbattan.

The Spider-Pup. That's what everyone called you.

His Spider-Pup.

And right now, you were dying. Or possibly dying. The distinction didn't matter, all he saw was the blood and it sent his body into autopilot.

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

Pavitr paced outside the operation room in the medical wing, his hands wringing themselves out in worry.

It got to the point the blood dried and Hobie had to drag him somewhere else to get a shower and put on some clean clothes.

"Relax." Hobie had told him, a large hand clapped on his shoulder. "Your kid sib's gonna be fine, Pav. Jus' calm down."

"I know but what if--"

"You'll loose ya marbles if ya only focus on them what-if's, Pav. Let the docs do their thing, yeah? Our li'le Pup'll be just fine."

Pavitr's shoulders slumped.

It had been hours since you were out into surgery. He figured at least he'd hear something at this point. News, a passing medic, hell, even a ping from Lyla as she monitored the situation--

"You're going to wear a hole in the floor, kid." The guy dressed in some kind of military uniform said. Ah. Spider-Medic. That's what everyone called him, and it stuck. He was "the best guy to have 'round when it came to ya guts're hangin' out" as Hobie explained it to you.

"Sorry." Pavitr mumbled, twiddling his thumbs anxiously.

"Well, Pup's doing fine. Gonna need some blood transfusions, and--"

"I'm a match!" Pavitr blurted.

It was true, talking one day you brought up random facts about yourselves. That's when you found out that the two of you were matching blood types. After that you elbowed him and laughed saying you knew where to find an emergency kidney if you needed one.

But right now that banter was about to literally pay off.

"Hmmh. All right. Let me take your vitals and I'll get you rigged." Spider-Medic said, leading Pavitr into an adjacent room.

Hobie crossed his arms, tapping his foot on the floor. He was hoping Pavitr couldn't see how worried he was about you.

They weren't lying when they said everyone loved you.

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

You dragged your eyes open, your senses slowly coming back to you.

You could feel something heavy taped to your face, in your nose.

You turned your head with a soft groan, feeling the pain creep through the drugs the medic gave you.

Almost immediately, you recognized the fluffy hair and tanned skin of the man next to you.

"Pavitr?" Your voice slurred out.

Immediately his head whipped towards you and the biggest grin you'd ever seen erupted on his face. It was so bright it could probably turn the sun to shame.

He shouted your name excitedly and hopped to his feet, only to wince and mutter a curse as he plopped back down to his seat, frowning at his arm.

"Whoops! I ah, ha ha... forgot!" Pavitr said, rubbing the back of his head.

Your eyes trailed down and saw the port in his arm, the tube connected to a small object hanging on the stand... and connected to your own arm.

"P-Pavitr?" You say, your eyes now fully focused, pupils blown out from the painkillers flowing through your system.

"Yeah! Yeah, don't freak out!" Pavitr said to you, trying to allay your fears. "The doc said you needed blood and yeah, we were right! I'm a match for you, so..."

Your lip wobbled and you felt tears burn in your eyes, guilt filling you.

"Hey! Hey, what's wrong?" Pavitr asked, touching your hand with his free one, giving a soft squeeze.

"I--I messed up. I thought I could do it right, be like all of you. B-But I'm not as fast, or strong..."

Pavitr, ignoring the pain in his arm, moved and gripped the back of your head, bringing your forehead against his in a comforting gesture.

"Hey, kid. All that matters is that you're alive. Okay? We beat the bad guy, nobody else got hurt." He said softly.

You nodded softly, looking up into his eyes.

"And besides! You need to hurry up and get better so you can drink the chai my Aunty told me to give you! It's her own special bleeeeeend~" He said, waggling his eyebrows, making you laugh.

Seeing your spirits lifted, he pulled back and sat in his seat, hoping to hurry and finish the transfusion.

"See? That's a good Pup! Now go on and get better, you little twerp!" He grinned.

"Jerk." You sniffled, smiling as you wiped away your tears.

You were the best stray he'd ever adopted.

[vibrantbirdy]

Pursuit: A Ben Solo Star Wars Story - Chapter 2

Title: Pursuit Fandom: Star Wars: Skywalker Saga Genres: Sci-Fi, Action/Adventure, Romance Setting: Post The Rise of Skywalker (Ben Solo lives!) Chapter: 2/? Main Character: Ben Solo (Kylo Ren) Warnings: Canon-typical violence, adventure peril, minor angst; mild consensual sexuality; any further warnings will be specified by chapter Main Pairings: Ben Solo/OC Author's Note: This is my first fic in probably 15 years and I really welcome any comments and advice, but please be constructive. :)

Pinned Post: Please find all completed chapters of Pursuit here.

Read: Chapter 1 first.

Summary: Three years after surviving events on the planet Exegol, Ben Solo is carving out a solitary life for himself in the New Republic against the backdrop of reconstruction. His pursuance of quiet redemption is interrupted when a new threat to the Galaxy emerges from an old and terrifying enemy. With the help of new friends and unlikely allies, Ben must set out into Wild Space to defeat the darkness rising and put his own demons to rest once and for all.

Chapter 2 (Word Count: 4264)

Ben was trying to concentrate on his pre-flight checks. Cargo and passengers – just the two heading to Naboo this time – were loaded, and they'd been given their time slot to leave the port's hanger.

But his vision the previous night, the loss of control he'd experienced, and now the appearance of this child who was clearly strong with the Force had unnerved him to the point of distraction.

If he was struggling to stabilise his own connection to the Force with an Inquisitor out there seemingly searching for him, was it really safe for the girl to be travelling with him?

But then, leaving the pair stranded in the Outer Rim seemed unconscionable. At the very least, he decided, he could ferry them further in to civilisation. With the New Republic still on post-war high alert, even an Inquisitor at the height of their power would struggle to reach as far as the Mid Rim alone. Especially to a planet like Naboo.

Ben had to admit, it would be nice to have some company too. As the New Republic continued to re-establish itself, the numbers of refugees fleeing from previously occupied First Order territories had started to dwindle. This was objectively a positive thing but much to his own surprise, Ben found himself missing the days when the Swift had been filled to the gunnels with all sorts of people.

Under Snoke's tutelage, Kylo Ren had spent little time learning how to negotiate the emotions of others. Blinded by his pursuit of absolute power, he'd had little need or care to do so. But Ben Solo, still in the early stages of rebuilding his connection with the Light Side of the Force, had found his first few times piloting his little freighter packed with war-weary passengers overwhelming.

Ben had struggled to manage the complex mixture of emotions - pain, grief, anger, jubilation, love, hope - which the refugees had carried with them. It was as if his humanity, lain dormant in hibernation for so many years, was slowly crawling up out of the black pit of the Dark Side. Vulnerable and confused, he simply could not cope with the cacophony of feelings that flooded his senses and threatened to drown him.

Then, little by little, Ben had relearned his own place within the great balance of the Force. How to wield it as something other than a weapon, how to use it for something other than power and selfish designs.

He had meditated on the memories he held of his youth before Snoke had stolen it away from him. He remembered a party he had attended as a child where his father made his mother laugh so raucously the punch she'd been drinking burst out of her nose; the death of a close friend who had lost control of his speeder and crashed it into a tree; his adventures as a Padawan with Luke as they travelled the Galaxy together; sneaking a clumsy kiss with Lyana Krinn behind the Jedi temple on Ossus; climbing trees as a boy with Uncle Chewie.

The perpetual cycle of life and death and all that lay in between. And always, always, the Force holding it all together, maintaining eternal, constant balance.

Now, Ben was mostly able to allow the emotions of others – both good and bad – to flow over him like river water running a natural course. It was a far cry from the uncontrollable torrent he'd struggled to manage at first. And despite living a mostly solitary existence, despite the guilt in knowing his own culpability in what he saw, he had come to enjoy the occasions when he was invited to share in the stories of old-timers and the rekindled hopes of families travelling onward to start their new lives.

But the two passengers he now had onboard the Swift were a strange pair. They were running, but it wasn't just from the aftermath of the war. This was something different.

The girl, Tallah, was strong with the Force, although Ben suspected that she had no idea that this was where her abilities sprung from. Her connection to the Force was powerful, but she had little control over it. Upon their meeting, the girl's probing of his feelings had been so forceful and unrestrained that Ben had felt the need to actively, albeit gently, push back against her searching.

He was certain that his new passengers hailed from beyond the Outer Rim, from Wild Space where Force sensitivity on many planets was often misunderstood as magic.

Yet when he had taken Ada's hand in greeting, she had met his gaze confidently, almost challengingly, and with such fierce intelligence that Ben knew immediately she could not be afraid of her niece's abilities. In fact, he held the distinct impression that she was not much afraid of anything save failing the girl in some way.

Ben did not make a habit of using the Force to probe further into strangers' business than necessary. He seldom felt the need to do it and it always left a bitter taste in his mouth. It forced him to confront how, as Kylo Ren, he had barrelled his way uninvited into the minds of others. He'd exerted the Force like an unrelenting battering ram, violently smashing though his victims' mental walls and taking whatever information he'd needed...or wanted.

With Ada, Ben hadn't been able to resist reaching out deftly, unobtrusively with the Force. She had clearly suffered much and was riddled with grief, anger, and doubt. But there was also courage, strength, determination, and a fierce love burning incandescently at the very centre of her being.

Unnervingly, as if she could sense him thinking about her, Ada suddenly poked her head through into the cockpit.

“Hey, need us to get strapped in?” She asked, brightly.

Ben marvelled inwardly at her composure given his new knowledge of the tumult of emotion roiling within her.

Her oval face had softened somewhat, the stress of ushering an excitable child through a busy space port now behind her. She was probably around the same age as Ben, maybe in her late twenties or early thirties. Her long red hair was tucked behind one ear and now cascaded in loose waves around her shoulders rather than knotted at the back of her head as it had been when they'd met. She wore casual travelling clothes – black leggings, a mauve long-sleeved top, and comfy looking but sturdy boots.

“Just about there,” he answered, “Why don't you and Tallah come and sit in the cockpit?”

“Thanks,” Ada nodded and her rosy lips drew up into a warm smile before she disappeared again.

Ben blew air into his cheeks before giving a long exhale. Since meeting Ada, he'd been trying, unsuccessfully, to ignore his attraction to her. But he'd already noticed how when she smiled, her dainty, turned-up nose scrunched up at the motion and how her eyes, the same green blue of the Great Lake on Naboo, seemed to sparkle. When she moved anywhere near him, the intoxicating scent of some aromatic wild flower he couldn't remember the name drifted off her bronze hair and filled his head.

Her presence had unbalanced him and it was maddening.

Ben's transient and solitary lifestyle meant that forming relationships, romantic or otherwise, was difficult. On occasional journey stop-overs, he'd entered into overnight flings with a temporary lover looking for the same thing – a physical release – but nothing more than that.

Besides, it frightened him, this idea that if he gave himself over to someone completely they might one day find out what...who he had been. Or maybe they wouldn't and he'd be too cowardly to admit his past. He'd keep it entombed away forever like something undead scratching to get out, deception eating away at him because he'd know the truth.

Worst of all, Ben couldn't shake the suspicion that anyone he formed a bond with would, over time, fall into the creeping realisation that there was just something wrong with him, a lingering, dormant darkness that he himself couldn't be certain he would ever be completely rid of.

At least Rey had already known the worst of him.

He suddenly thought of that desperate kiss he and Rey had stolen on Exegol at her return from the brink of death. A moment of pure, innocent jubilation. The kiss had reawakened Ben Solo's mind and spirit once and for all.

Yet as soon as the first breaths of new life had filled Rey's lungs, Ben had felt the abrupt absence of their Dyad like a blaster bolt to the heart. Their unique connection through the Force had dissipated and once that had been stripped away, Ben had suddenly understood that while his love for Rey was very real, it would forever be marred and sullied and twisted up in the actions he had taken as Kylo Ren. In truth, Ren had desired Rey's power just as much as he had desired her.

Ben was ushered back to the present by the sound of Ada's voice calling Tallah's name through the ship. Usually, Ben had his passengers buckle up for take-off in the common area of the ship. Then, once out of orbit, they were free to move about the Swift as they wished. But with only the two passengers this time, and knowing Tallah was excited about the journey, it made sense that they join him in the cockpit.

The flight was hopefully going to be a pretty straight forward in any case. Ben had done it many times over the past three years. Once they'd left Exeus' orbit, they would jump to light speed and ride the hyper lanes most of the way to Naboo. They'd need a few stops here and there to rest the old ship's engines of course.

Ben sighed and patted the Swift's cockpit dashboard fondly before locking in their course on the nav computer in front of him. He flicked the engine start switch and smiled at the familiar sound of the Swift roaring to life vibrated through him. By the Force, he loved that noise. He grabbed the com device from its station above his head and spoke into it.

“Exeus Control this is Allanar N4 freighter, Swift. All systems are operating within normal parameters and we are ready to disembark when cleared to do so.”

*********************************************************************

Tallah had been entranced when Ben first jumped the Swift to light speed. Her stomach had done somersaults and the sensation had been so sudden and so strange that it had made her laugh. She'd never seen anything more beautiful than the rainbow flashes of light streaking past them outside. What were they, she wondered? Planets, moons, stars...maybe even other ships? Maybe even leviathan creatures she'd only heard about in Ada's stories?

Despite Ada's assurances that Ben's vessel was really quite small compared to other ships, Tallah couldn't see how this could possibly be true. The Swift was like a house in space. There was a large communal living room and kitchen area behind the cockpit. A long passageway ran right down the middle of the ship, connecting the cockpit and communal space to the cargo bay at the rear, with rooms sprouting off each side.

There were four sleeping quarters located off the main corridor. The smaller two were located near the front of the ship and were occupied by Ben and Tallah and Ada. The larger two were at the back and currently empty but they could sleep up to six people each. In the middle of the vessel was a large shower room and a smaller communal area opposite which Ben appeared to use mainly for overflow storage.

Tallah had been enjoying running up and down the ship's arterial passageway for a good half-hour, enjoying the satisfying thud of her boots on the metal floor, when Ada called her through for dinner. Ben apologised that it was only some sort of vacuum packed stew, but Tallah found that she was starving and she wolfed it down gratefully.

Afterwards, they settled down in the living area to play a game of Dejarik. Ben taught them the rules and despite neither of them playing before, Ada won. Ben's confused expression when Ada's last standing holo champion had felled his own made Tallah giggle. She wasn't surprised in the slightest. It was typical of her aunt - she was always the smartest person in the room.

It was a small source of frustration for Tallah that her gift no longer appeared to work on Ben. It was odd, but now when she tried to read his emotions all she could feel was a constant wall of energy, like a forcefield.

Still, even without her abilities, Tallah sometimes caught a distant, far-off look in his eyes as if he was lost in deep memory and she couldn't help but wonder about that hint of mysterious darkness she'd felt when they'd first met.

Despite this, she decided that she liked their pilot. There was a reserved strength about him that made Tallah feel safe. He also had flashes of quiet humour, sometimes playfulness. He'd even let her push a few buttons in the Swift's cockpit. Then he'd picked her up and stood her on his shoulders so that she could get a good look through the glass roof hatch.

Now, Tallah was curled up contentedly in a corner of one of the functional green couches in the communal living area. Across the caff table, Ben and Ada sat talking quietly on the opposite sofa. In Tallah's opinion, their discussion was relatively boring as many adult conversations tended to be, but their voices mingled with her exhaustion to lull her into a pleasant stupor.

Her head grew heavy and it became more and more difficult to keep her eyes open. She thought she might close them, rest them, just for a second.

*********************************************************************

When Tallah opened her eyes again it was dark. And she was so cold. She sat up slowly and the blackness around her seemed to go on forever. But in the distance was a red, eerily familiar glow and heavy footsteps growing closer and closer and louder and louder.

Tallah jumped to her feet, her stomach knotted in dread. She wanted to run but her fear rooted her to the spot. She didn't know where she would go even if she could move. She could see him drawing near now, huge and hulking and shrouded in black. The fiery duel blade he always carried was extended out in front of him grasped in a massive, outstretched claw.

Eyes squeezed shut, Tallah reached out with her mind, trying to push through her fear and connect with her gift. Sometimes she felt that if she just concentrated enough she could use it to protect her, that she might be able to harness all that energy surrounding her to push all the bad things away. But it was no use, her efforts were met with a grotesque emptiness and a dead, dull silence which rang paradoxically loud inside her head.

“Ren!” the man suddenly sneered, stopping abruptly and wheeling away from her.

Tallah had never heard his voice before. It was unexpectedly smooth and clear. It might even have been pleasant had it not dripped with venom and malice.

She looked in the direction he was now moving in. He was storming away from her across the darkness. And there, in the gloom, was another person. It was a tall figure who, at the approach of Tallah's nightmarish pursuer, stamped his right foot hard against the ground, widening his stance in challenge. As he did so, a blue beam of light burst from the weapon hilt grasped in his hand. As the laser sword was raised, it hummed and sang and the icy glow of the blade illuminated the newcomer's face.

Ben.

Why had the man with the red sword called him Ren? Tallah was sure that's what he had said. His words, their pronunciation sharpened by hatred, had been clear enough. But this was definitely Ben.

All the same, he did seem different. He was breathing heavily and his expression was so fierce and wild it frightened her. Any gentleness she'd seen in his face was gone. He looked like a different man than the one who had sat across the Dejarik board from her earlier that evening.

“Ben?” Tallah's voice was quiet and small and she hated how young and scared it made her sound.

Ben whirled around to face her. His face was suddenly uncertain, eyes alight with what Tallah realised was the beginnings of panic. It was obvious he'd had no idea that she was even there there.

Distracted and unbalanced by his surprise, Ben allowed the man with the red blade to advance far too far before taking defensive action. A clumsy, ill-timed block granted the giant a dominant position as their weapons clashed, and leverage enough to push Ben's blistering weapon against his own left shoulder.

A furious growl of pain escaped through Ben's gritted teeth, but Tallah was relieved to see that it was what he needed to start him moving again. He threw his weight forward and upwards, at the same time delivering a powerful kick to his opponent's left hip which sent him stumbling backwards.

Now with the advantage, Ben twirled his weapon in his hand before unleashing a series of powerful attacks, forcing his adversary to block and evade.

Tallah was mesmerised by the colours, the noise, the swirling, fluid motions of the duelling combatants. She started to advance slowly towards them, feeling suddenly hypnotised.

Before she even realised what was happening, a burst of energy hit her painfully hard in the chest, sending her flying backwards into the blackness.

She caught a final glimpse of Ben. His weapon was raised high above his head as he countered another torrid attack but his eyes, resolute, were locked on her, and his free hand was outstretched towards her.

Ben had pushed her away, Tallah realised. He was gifted like her.

And then she was falling down, down, down. The electric clashing of weapons growing fainter until, finally, she heard and saw no more.

**********************************************************************

“Ada.”

A little voice in the dark had been saying Ada's name quietly, but it was becoming more and more insistent and harder to ignore.

“Ada!”

"Wh...what is it?” Ada asked, her voice slurred with sleep. She rolled over to face the direction of the voice.

“Ben's having my nightmare.”

Tallah's words were so strange and so full of fear that Ada sat up with a start, suddenly wide awake. Was her niece using her gift to probe other people's dreams now? They'd have to talk about that later.

Still, as Ada became fully aware of her surroundings, she realised that even if this were true, you didn't need to be psychic to know that their pilot was in distress. She could hear him groaning and thrashing about from his quarters on the other side of the hallway.

“He's dreaming about the man with the red sword,” Tallah whispered so abruptly, so sharply, it made Ada jump.

“What do you mean, Tallah?” she asked, an edge to her voice that she didn't intend.

Tallah just shook her head, blanket tucked up to her chin.

“Ok,” Ada said more gently, “Stay here.”

She got up and padded across the room to their bedroom door. She stepped out into the passageway, the main arterial thoroughfare which ran through the little freighter. A sharp intake of breath escaped her as the cold durasteel of the grated metal floor met her bare feet.

Ada expected Ben's door to be locked, but it hissed open without complaint as she passed her hand over the access control panel. Ben was shirtless, sheets and blankets discarded and tangled around his legs. Although it was freezing in his quarters, his muscular torso shone with perspiration which also beaded on his forehead. Strands of unkempt raven hair were plastered to his temples.

Ben's large frame hardly fit into the little bed. One long leg was jutting out at an odd angle and the opposite right arm was flush vertical against the wall. It might have been comical under different circumstances.

At first, Ada didn't know what to do. This seemed like such an intrusion, but she felt compelled to try and wake Ben. The man was clearly suffering from a terrible nightmare. He was tossing and turning violently, mumbling and giving out occasional grunts of...pain? Terror? Anger? Ada didn't know.

“Ben...” she whispered.

She was desperate for him to open his eyes and she reached out hesitantly towards his shoulder. Before she could touch him, he sat bolt upright with a shout and snatched up her arm in a painful grip.

Startled, Ada gasped and tried to pull away, falling off the side of the bed in the process. She landed hard on her bottom with an unceremonious thud, arm still caught up in Ben's grasp.

Ben's eyes were dark and wild, scanning the room for something she couldn't see. He didn't seem to register her existence at all. Ada used her free hand in a futile attempt to prise open the vice-like grip on her arm. It was no use. Ben's massive hand had wrapped itself around her wrist and was set like iron.

“Ben!” she half-shouted in pain.

He looked at her then, recognition dawning slowly on his stricken, confused face. Immediately, his grip loosened.

“...Ada?” Ben's deep voice was hushed and uncertain.

As if she weighed nothing at all, he gently lifted her one-handed back up onto the side of the bed next to him. Once she was seated again, he finally let go of her arm.

“I'm sorry,” he apologised, more composed, “Did I hurt you?”

Ben's eyes were now rich amber in the subdued light. They narrowed, searching her face intently.

“No,” Ada lied, feeling the bruise start to form under her skin already. “No, I'm fine,” and she quickly released her wrist which she had unconsciously started to cradle.

Suddenly, Ben seemed so close to her. She was sure he could probably see each individual freckle on the bridge of her nose. She could feel the heat radiating off him, his broad shoulders rising and falling with each breath. He wore a crestfallen expression that made him look like a lost little boy, even with the dark stubble on his face.

“It's alright, Ben,” Ada said softly, “really, it's alright.”

She placed a hand on his warm chest instinctively, a natural act of comfort. Closing her eyes, Ada felt the big man's heartbeat begin to slow under her palm as he calmed. The rhythmic thump became sonorous and steady in the dim quiet until it was all she could feel, all she could hear. Her eyes flickered open to find Ben looking at her intently.

Ben took her arm, finally braking his gaze to look down at her sore wrist. He lightly ran his finger tips over the tender skin. At his soft touch, Ada felt something electric course, unbidden, through her whole body. Simultaneously, impossibly, the pain in her arm seemed to dull, just ever so slightly.

It had been some time since a man had touched her like that and she couldn't deny that she was intrigued by this one in a way she hadn't felt for a long while. It made her realise how intimate the situation was...they were strangers after all.

Shivering unexpectedly, Ada looked down at her night shift. Her cheeks grew hot as it dawned on her that she really wasn't wearing very much. Looking up, she saw with an unexpected rush of pleasure that Ben's eyes had followed her own downwards and were resting on her body. He raised his gaze a millisecond too late, and his face flushed endearingly at the realisation he'd been caught.

“You're cold,” he mumbled looking away quickly, though Ada caught the half smile on his face.

He grabbed a blanket from the foot of the bed and wrapped it around her bare shoulders.

“Thank you,” she said drawing the soft material close and enjoying the masculine scent of it. Of him.

It was something heady that reminded her of Endor pines. Not that she'd ever been to Endor, but timber from the forest moon was exported all across the Galaxy, even to the planets beyond the Outer Rim. The wood was attractive and sturdy for building and other natural extracts were renowned for their therapeutic properties. She wondered if Ben had ever been there.

“You were having a nightmare...” Ada started, forcing herself to concentrate. She didn't really know what to say next but decided she had to forge ahead anyway.

“Ben, I don't mean to intrude but Tallah.. said something strange,” The words were tumbling from her mouth now. “She said you were in her nightmare...that you were both dreaming about the man with the red sword.”

“Tallah's dreamt of the man with the red lightsaber before?” Ben asked, body tensing, his tone suddenly filled with a sense of urgency that made Ada anxious.

Lightsaber. She'd never connected that monster of a man with the Jedi Order. Why would a creature like that be carrying such a weapon? But what else could that flaming, terrible blade be except a lightsaber?

“It's not a dream,” Ada replied gravely.

She decided there and then that she had no real choice but to trust Ben.

“It's a memory.”

[helldustedstories]

There is something about the casual affection that Blitz shows him, wrapping an arm around his waist, pressing a kiss to his palm, for no other reason than that he wants to touch him, that is almost overwhelming. But in the best sort of way. He's been so touch-starved for so long that even little gestures mean so much to him, especially since it's not something he's ever really experienced before.

And while Stolas has been to his fair share of events over the years, they've all been Goetia-related. From the parties Stella had thrown that he'd been obligated to attend in order to keep the peace to various political duties required by his father, Stolas cannot remember the last time, if ever, he had been to something like this of his own volition, just for fun.

The fact that Blitz had heard of this event, had been the one to suggest that they go together meant that Stolas was actually looking forward to it, something that was a very new experience for the owl; he usually preferred spending time with the people he cared about, instead of attending parties where there would be large crowds of people he didn't know. Blitz was much more social than he was, thrived in situations that Stolas had tended to shy away from unless he had to be there. So the fact that he's choosing to attend this ball, that he's excited about it is another huge step forward for him.

Blitz's compliments, his praise fill Stolas with warmth, buoying his already-jubilant mood, making him feel like he could do anything, like he really was beautiful, gorgeous, breathtaking, something that was happening more and more these days. Which was one of the other reasons he'd taken so much time to put possible outfits together; this would be the first big event he was attending where he didn't wear his usual sort of outfit, something he'd used like armour in the past, made it so he hadn't had to think about what to wear.

The way that Blitz stops moving, the way he looks at him as Stolas emerges from the bathroom absolutely delights the prince. He'd been hoping that, even though he'd shown him what he was going to wear, that he could get a reaction, and Blitz had not disappointed at all. His clearly admiring look as he takes him by the hand makes the butterflies in Stolas' stomach that much more intense.

❝ Do I like it - it's amazing. ❞ Blitz replies in regards to the mask, which helps with the little bit of anxiousness Stolas had felt about the design he'd come up with. He hadn't wanted to overstep, had very much wanted to show off his connection to Blitz, that they were together, belonged to one another, and that had been one of the ways he'd thought about, a way he could very clearly reference and pay homage to the man he loved.

As Blitz leans up, tries to press his face into Stolas' chest, the owl shifts, happily moving to make that easier for him, glad to be close. He runs a hand along one of Blitz's horns, a soft smile on his face, one that only widens when Blitz says he's happy.

But when he hears the rest of what Blitz says, when he mentions that it means a lot that Stolas wants to be seen in public with him, the owl pulls back, just enough so he can see Blitz's face. He lifts his hands to cup his cheeks, gazing down at him, his expression tender, adoring.

"My darling, I want nothing more than to go to all kinds of events with you, to be able to show you off, so that all of hell sees us together, knows that I am hopelessly, helplessly in love with you, for the rest of my life," he murmurs, and it's clear he means every word. He never ever wants to make Blitz feel the way he had at Ozzie's, not after everything Blitz has been through, that they've been through together. Now that Loona and Octavia are on board with them, as far as Stolas is concerned, there are no obstacles to spending his life with Blitz. He's proud to be with him, to be seen with him, and attending this event, putting in all the touches of Blitz to his outfit is just one of the ways to show that, not only to Blitz, but to the rest of hell.

Blitz is constantly delighted by the noises he can get out of Stolas - and yes, totally in bed, but also like this. Any coo or chirp or trill, anything that comes out of him so naturally and sweetly, or elicited from gentle surprise - it's like seeing more of who Stolas really is. The man who can simply let go and exist and be in Blitz's presence, and there's no greater honor than that.

When Stolas pulls back, Blitz grabs his hand to press a kiss to his palm, unable to contain himself and his overwhelming affection. Fuck - big fancy ass parties have never been his thing, never something he'd sought out before as a way to pleasurably pass the time. He'd even outgrown the club scenes by now - but when he'd caught wind about some Overlord-thrown ball, it had just sounded perfect. A perfect way to give Stolas a night out that hopefully wasn't too far from what he was comfortable with, but also something that wasn't saturated with those other pompous fucks that he's been brought up around his whole life.

He wants this for Stolas. He wants this to be a good night for him - a good memory. A chance to see what freedom feels like.

❝ Fantastic ! That's what I'm going for. ❞ Blitz puffs out his chest, grinning. ❝ After all, you are the single most handsome person I've ever met. You deserve to feel that, Beautiful. Gorgeous. Jaw dropping. Breathtaking. ❞

He can go on and on - he will, given the chance. But for now he waits almost patiently for Stolas to change and get ready, alternating sitting on the bed and standing to pace around a little, tail twitching in anticipation. And when Stolas does emerge, looking fucking resplendent, Blitz stops in his tracks, eyes wide and glittering, looking more than a little starstruck.

❝ ... Fucking Satan, ❞ he breathes, tail twitching again - this time in appreciation, and as soon as he can move, he wastes no time in scuttling over, taking Stolas by the hand, admiring the way every little stitch and seam fits on his body.

When Stolas shows him the cufflinks, he could cry.

❝ Do I like it - it's amazing. ❞ Blitz ghosts the tip of his claw over the mask, overwhelmed by the addition of horns - of something that's so clearly a reference to him. In public. He leans forward, careful not to mess up the delicate way Stolas' outfit clings to him, and stands on his toes to try and press his face into Stolas' chest for a moment - to feel the familiar warm softness, grounding and adored.

❝ I'm so fucking happy. ❞ And it's true, true enough that it clogs his throat for a moment. ❝ That you're enjoying this - that you want to be seen with me in public. It means ... a lot. ❞

[waldoirby]

(day 89) So totally spasmoid you'd crack your jaw from yawing, y'know? It's JUBILEE!

Jubilee is the first character I've drawn in this challenge who is younger than me, by which I mean her first appearance was published just a few months after I was born. Like a lot of people my age, I was introduced to the X-Men through the '92 animated series-- I owned a Pizza Hut promotional VHS of Night of the Sentinels parts 1 & 2, the first two episodes of the show, in which Jubilee is the MAIN CHARACTER. So I imprinted on her pretty hard. Can you blame me? She's fun, her power looks cool, her costume design rules... I absolutely LOVE Jubilee.

Here she is assembling her first costume, including Wolverine’s gloves and... oh yeah, those are Cyclops' sunglasses:

X-Men Annual #13 (Aug 1989) "Jubilation Day" writer Sally Pashkow, penciler Jim Fern, inker Josef Rubenstein, letterer Joe Rosen, colorist Greg Wright, editor Bob Harras

[lady-griffin]

My Favorite Jinx Skins

Here are my personal favorite skins for Jinx, minus her Original and Arcane skins, because that feels super unfair to the others.

1. Crime City Jinx (LoL Skin)

Known by state police as “La Principessa,” Jinx is an unhinged hitwoman with loose ties to the Graves crime family. Sent into rival businesses as a figurative time bomb, the slightest offense will trigger one of her jubilant rampages, with body counts as high as the ceiling.

I love this skin so goddamn much, it’s my absolute favorite for Jinx. Obviously, I mean she’s in first place. Each time I think I like one of her others skins more, I always find myself coming back to this one. I just love Flapper Jinx so much!

Possibly because I can see the 1920s/flapper aesthetics easily making their way into Zaun, and I think it’s such a natural as well as great contrast to Piltover’s steampunk and Victorian/Edwardian style, while still not being modern.

While perhaps not the flapper aesthetic, the aesthetic of the time period is already connected with Zaun, at least more recently, with the character designs of Silco and Renata Glasc, I would argue. 

I really want to see Jinx in Zaun’s flapper style, not Crime City Jinx exactly, but definitely inspired from this skin. Basically, I just want to see Arcane-Flapper Jinx, blue hair and everything. 

Everything about this design just works so well for Jinx. 

Her being known as “La Principessa” is also fantastic and puts a smile on my face, because well she is Silco’s daughter - so she is a Kingpin’s daughter and therefore a mob princess. It’s sheer perfection!

I also love how her two guns are designed, one hidden in/disguised as a violin case and the other as a liquor bottle - very fitting and so much fun. 

Everything about this design works for me. While I would of course love to see blue-haired Flapper Jinx, I really like her ostentatious orange hair here, but mostly I just love her bob cut. 

I love this skin so much and I can’t help but feel like it’s super underrated.  

2. Odyssey Jinx (LoL Skin)

Adept at building and/or destroying (but mostly destroying) a variety of haphazard, highly unstable weaponry for the Morning Star crew, Jinx also serves as the ship's pilot. Her previous job as a mining explosives technician resulted in a lot of collateral damage, and a thoroughly justified dismissal.

A great design for Jinx, I feel like even though she doesn’t look like our Jinx, you can easily still tell this is Jinx. I love her having a mechanical arm and just her overall style, especially her hair (though again, I do miss the blue).

Now to be fair, this design has an edge over the others, largely because of the Odyssey Trailer (x). I just love seeing Jinx not only be happy, but relatively well-adjusted (all things considered), and having people who accept her for who she is. 

It just makes me so happy. So, while I do love this design, this being a universe where Jinx is living her best life and has not just a crew but a found-family, seals this spot for her - I can’t help it.

There was a also great fanart of Odyssey Silco and Jinx by @brovitranduila​ . 

So that’s another reason to like this design, that doesn’t actually have to do with the design itself. 

I really like her lore here and the connection to mining she has in it, as it reminds me of Silco and Zaun’s mines in Arcane. 

While this line is meant to be read straight (as in being the truth) -

Her previous job as a mining explosives technician resulted in a lot of collateral damage, and a thoroughly justified dismissal. 

I have the headcanon that Odyssey Powder was a kid working in the mines for an Odyssey-Piltover Company. Not only should she not have been working in the mines, because she was a child; but the working conditions were beyond unsafe, due to the company mining unstable areas that they illegally got approval for.

Powder ended up making an honest mistake, resulting in a devastating explosion. She not only lost her arm, but injured and killed many of her fellow miners.

The Company refused to take accountability for the incident, even though they were not only hiring children, but knowingly putting their workers at risk by cutting corners in the name of profit. They basically painted Powder as a psychotic, explosive-loving criminal and pinned all the blame on her and no one questioned that, except for a few - including Silco, who took her in. 

Due to the trauma of her killing her fellow miners + being viewed as a psychotic murderer, Powder lost her mind and eventually embraced the galaxy’s image of her as Jinx. 

But she’s doing a lot better now.

3. Ambitious Elf Jinx (LoL Skin)

A master toy maker and inventor, Jinx believes she could one day become the greatest Santa anyone has ever seen. Other elves worry her creations could be classified as weapons... but sometimes that's the price of true ambition.

Jinx is beyond adorable here. Words do not do this design justice, she’s just so precious and charming in her picture. I love this skin so much - from her pointy elf ears, sharp canines, to her entire outfit, and of course Fishbones being a present. It’s sheer perfection. 

I also love the idea that it’s not so much Jinx is a bad guy or violent, she’s just too enthusiastic and intense for her (and everyone else’s) own good. I mean what kid wouldn’t love to have an exploding toy?

There’s also some great fanart of Elf Jinx with Krampus Silco once more by @brovitranduila​, so that just endears me even more to this design. (x) (x)

As much as I miss the blue hair, I have to say I do like the blonde here. 

This isn’t a fair complaint against this design at all, but I feel like if there was Tinkerer Elf Ekko, I would probably love it even more. But again, that has nothing to do with the design itself, just me being sad there’s no matching Ekko for this look.

I don’t have much more to say other than Jinx is beyond precious here.

4. Heartseeker Jinx (LoL Skin)

Love is a battlefield, and Jinx comes prepared! Armed with her beloved companion Fishbones, she's ready to break hearts—and bones. But if she likes you enough, she's prepared to play nice. Maybe. Probably not.

Another design for Jinx, that is beyond precious and adorable. I can’t help, but smile and I want to join in with Jinx’s squeal, every time I see this picture. She is just too much. 

I love it. She’s so cute! How can anyone not smile when they see this version of Jinx?

While this doesn’t quite go with her Heartseeker “Lore”, I can’t help but imagine this as Cupid Jinx, who’s just too enthusiastic for her own good. Love is a battlefield, so shouldn’t she go at it with all her heart and weapons. What do you mean most people don’t want to feel love, as though it’s an explosion that nearly kills them? What other way is there to feel love?

I also really like this concept for Jinx, because while many other emotions define her - I can’t help but see her as a girl who not only wants love, but has a lot of love to give. Maybe her love is a bit too intense (to say the least), but she does have a big, if not demanding, heart.

She’s just too precious for words here and again, I can’t help the huge smile that takes over my face every time I see this skin. 

5. Glorious Jinx (Wild Rift Skin)

I really love this design and while I personally love the hairstyle of Gilded Jinx (LoR Skin) better, not only because that is really Jinx’s only alternate skin that has blue hair, this design of Jinx just works better (imo).

Basically, Glorious Jinx actually looks like what Gilded Jinx is supposed to be, if that makes sense. In the Gilded Universe (LoR) (x), Zaun doesn’t exist as the city of Piltover was never destroyed by the creation of the Sun Gates, so all of our Zaunite characters are in fact from Piltover.

And for me Glorious Jinx actually looks like Jinx if she was from Piltover, but you know, still Jinx.

She looks amazing. I really love the clean, sharp, and sophisticated style of her outfit, also that curl to her bang. Lovely! She just looks so pretty here and I love it.

For reference here is Gilded Jinx (LoR Skin)

Which I also like, don’t get me wrong, but I just don’t buy this girl is from Piltover. Especially considering how much the other Zaunite characters have changed in their looks for this alternate universe

I don’t know what more I can say, other than Glorious Jinx looks like she’s actually a citizen from Piltover, while still having that crazy Jinx charm to her, and I love her for that.

I think if Glorious Jinx had Gilded Jinx’s hair, she could’ve been higher up on my list. But alas, what can you do? I still love Wild Rift’s Glorious skin for Jinx. 

--

Well, those are my personal favorite skins for Jinx and my opinions on them.

Overall, when it comes to Jinx’s skins I both dislike and really like her hairstyles. While I don’t have a problem with each individual skin’s hairstyle or hair color, seeing them all together, I am disappointed Jinx never has blue hair. 

I mean the three skins of hers that in fact do have her iconic blue hair are her Original, Arcane, and Gilded skins. 

Why?

The majority of Ekko’s skins have his white hair and while not all, several of Vi’s skins have her pink hair. So, why doesn’t Jinx have blue hair in the majority of her skins?

I mean it’s certainly not the end of the world, but I just really like her blue hair, so I wish we had some more of it. 

But, to end on a positive note, I absolutely love how all of her skins replicate her iconic twin-braid hairstyle, in some form or another. I just really appreciate that design choice and it brings a smile to my face. 

[ymiwritesstuff]

Tenderly Perfect

Well, here it is, a Zhongli fic as I promised. I swear this man is doing things to me I can’t lmao. Also I’m not THAT deep in the lore so apologies if some things are incorrect. Anyway hope you enjoy, just some simple fluff with not much plot hehe.

Genshin Impact

Zhongli x Fem!Reader

Summary: Zhongli insists on taking you outside the city for a moment of good food, company and hair brushing.

Notes: SPOILERS FOR THE ARCHON QUESTS!, Fluff

Climbing to the highest point of Mt. Tianheng was the last thing you were expecting that day, though you should have expected as much. You have known him so long, of course he would be the one to suggest something like this. After hearing that you had never been on top of the impressive mountains just outside of the city, he was almost shocked and insisted on spending a day there, enjoying an all too lavish meal from Wanmin restaurant.

Zhongli held your hand throughout the trip, despite it not being entirely necessary, though he did save your face from hitting the ground a few times as the terrain proved to be rather unforgiving with its uneven areas and tiny pits. Being the perfect gentleman he was, he was more than happy to carry everything you brought with you on your little trip in his other hand while never letting go of yours. The action warmed your heart.

“We’ll reach our destination shortly.” He turned to you, a warm smile on his face. “The view up here is among the finest in all of Liyue.”

The way his deep voice spoke softly tingled your insides pleasantly, his hand gently holding yours as you ascended a set of stone stairs. You couldn’t help but mirror his smile, appreciating his efforts of showing you his favorite places in hopes that you would enjoy them as well. With him though, everything was enjoyable. Perhaps it was his divine presence that seemed to make every location that much better.

“I can’t wait.”

Despite learning of his true identity only recently, you had always had this underlying feeling that there was something peculiar about him. The way he spoke of Liyue’s traditions and history as if he had been present in those influential moments, was something you thought about a lot, yet it still surprised you when the truth was revealed.

Zhongli was somewhat uncertain of your reaction initially but was washed with relief when you expressed no hysterical shock or possible hostility. Since then, he has been enjoying his retirement with you with much jubilance.

You knew the journey had come to an end when Zhongli let go of your hand, allowing you to take in the breathtaking view on top of the mountain. Your (E/C) sparkled in awe as they looked around. The entirety of Liyue was visible, the whole city looking so incredibly tiny from so high up. The gentle breeze that hugged your form and swayed your hair was warm and welcoming, and you finally realized why the Lord of Geo wanted you to witness this with your own eyes.

“Zhongli this... This is…” You couldn’t find the right words because nothing would do the stunning view that bathed under the afternoon sun any justice. So you opted to just turn to him, immediately noticing his gentle smile that always made your heart swoon.

“I am glad you like the sight.”

You walked up to him and placed a kiss on his lips, being mindful of the bag he was carrying. After pulling away you glued your eyes on his resplendent golden ones, staring at him in admiration.

“It’s perfect.”

His other hand rested on your waist as you pressed your foreheads together, enjoying the feeling of having each other so close. At times like these, you couldn’t help but wonder what had you done to be blessed with someone like him. One would think that after becoming aware of his true identity as Rex Lapis, you would treat him as such. However, the person before you was Zhongli, just Zhongli, the man whom you had met while wandering aimlessly around Liyue, surrounded by unfamiliarity.

“Shall we begin?” you heard him ask, lightly lifting the bag that held the food you hadn’t even realized you had been craving. The quality of Wanmin restaurant didn’t disappoint, though you wondered if Zhongli had remembered to bring Mora with him when making his order. Though, knowing him, he most likely found another way to pay for the meals as he always did.

“Certainly.”

You helped him place a large blanket on the grass, allowing for a more comfortable experience, before placing the food that was still somehow warm on top of it, your eyes admiring the meals prepared by the famous restaurant. As you examined the sight before you, you noticed something and decided to open your mouth.

“No seafood?”

Your words were meant as a mere joke, as you were more than aware that the Geo Archon absolutely despised having anything from the sea on his plate. Still, to your surprise, he merely looked at you, slightly tilting his head to the side.

“Would you have preferred that? If you’d like it is in no way an issue for me to go back and-”

You cut him off with a giggle, finding his desire to make you happy above all else adorable.

“No, no. There’s no need. This is perfect.” You threw him a smile which he happily returned.

Once all the food had been laid out, you immediately went to dig in, enjoying the delicate flavors of the jade parcels and the juiciness of the meat rolls. With each bite you hummed in satisfaction, all the while enjoying the surrounding nature and the wonderful company.

In the midst of the dining and chatting with the gentleman responsible for this lovely picnic, the surrounding wind seemed to get stronger, as if the playful Anemo Archon himself was messing with it. You only noticed the change in the weather when the wind decided to latch itself onto your hair, causing it to fly everywhere before settling right on your face.

You heard Zhongli let out a chuckle of amusement as you moved your hair away from your eyes, looking at him with slight embarrassment in your gaze. With a soft sigh, you reached for your own bag and took out a hairbrush that you had fortunately taken with you.

“Didn’t think I’d need to use this here,” you laughed softly tracing the designs carved into the handle. It was an old brush but did its job wonderfully.

Just as you were about to start brushing your hair that had become full of knots in a matter of seconds, you felt Zhongli place his hand on top of the one that held the brush. You looked up at him questioningly. 

“May I?”

His voice was gentle as if he was asking with the utmost carefulness. You didn’t understand why though, you were more than happy to accept his offer.

“Of course.”

You gave him the hairbrush and turned your back to him, leaving your messy hair to be dealt with by the Geo Archon. Before he would start running the bristles through your locks, however, he had to inspect the brush closer. His golden eyes looked at the carvings, his mind traveling through Liyue’s long history.

“I recall a time when these handmade hairbrushes first arrived in Liyue. Traveling merchants would sell these at the harbor for a large sum of Mora,” he stated and you listened, always ready to hear his many stories and memories from a time unknown to you. “Only a few made their way to civilians’ hands, and fewer remain today.”

“Guess I’m pretty lucky then, huh?” A smile stretched his lips at your words.

“Indeed you are, my love.”

Zhongli ran his covered fingers over the carvings on the back of the brush reminiscing for a moment as he often did, especially now that he had abandoned his position as Morax. He removed his gloves and placed them beside him on the blanket before finally moving his attention to your (H/C) hair.

“Despite its age, this brush has stood the test of time rather beautifully.”

You felt the brush run through your locks, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling.

“You mean just like you?” You joked, which earned you a chuckle from the male as he occasionally ran his bare hand through your hair.

Zhongli loved your hair, how soft it felt between his fingers, how it often swayed in the wind, how perfectly it shone. It framed your face perfectly and only enhanced your appearance he was so fond of. It was as if it was touched by a divine being.

He took his time with brushing it, making sure to unravel every knot carefully as he did not want you to feel even the slightest bit of discomfort. Even if you did, though, you wouldn’t mind. The fact that he was willing to brush your hair for you in the first place was good enough and filled you with happiness in its purest form.

His golden eyes, filled with a fondness for your entire being watched as your hair regained its previous state, and even when there were no visible knots, he continued to run his hand through the strands, enjoying the softness that he had restored.

“Beautiful,” he whispered as you felt his hand move to your cheek. He turned you to face him, his touch so gentle one would think it impossible that they were used to make spears out of stone to slay an ancient god. His words, no matter how many times he said them, always made a shade of crimson dust your cheeks.

Zhongli reached for something in the bag that once held all the food items, retrieving a single Glaze Lily, fully in bloom. Your eyes glued themselves on it, staring at the stunning flora in awe.

“I picked this before our departure,” he said as if answering a question you hadn’t stated out loud. “My intention was to merely give this to you, but…”

With gentle movements, Zhongli placed the lily behind your ear, moving a tiny bit of your freshly brushed hair to the side. You watched him, drowning in his loving gaze.

“This just might be the most efficient way of doing so.”

He kept a hand on your cheek and you placed yours on top of it, wanting to enjoy the feeling of his bare hand on your skin. You smiled once more, his words sticking to you. He made you feel so happy, so appreciated, so loved. No words came out of your mouth as you slowly closed the gap between you.

Zhongli returned the kiss, keeping his hand on your cheek while the tips of his fingers grazed the tiniest part of your perfect (H/C) hair that he adored.

[plaidbooks]

Cabin Life - Whittling Roses

A/N: Hello, I have lost complete control of myself and just keep writing this AU. I blame @berniesilvas, but I also love her and this AU so much. For now, this was all the concrete ideas I had--everything else is vague ideas that I don’t have a fic plotted for yet. I hope you all enjoy!

Tags: just fluff, the briefest mention of smut (only one line), and a little bit of a make-out session

Words: 1857

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart  @beccabarba  @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @ben-c-group-therapy  @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl  @glimmerglittergirl  @reading--mermaid  @averyhotchner  @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @crowleysqueenofhell @dreamlover31

As predicted, the snowstorm blocked off contact between you and Sonny for most of the winter months. As soon as the snow started to melt, it would snow again, causing a bigger buildup. He texted you when he could—when the cells had connection—but otherwise, he was confined to his cabin, as you were to yours.

He never once stopped thinking about you, especially when he was huddled in a pile of your blankets, the fireplace happily crackling in front of him. He remembered the night he made love to you right there on the floor, and he wished he could do it again, in his bed this time. Even the thought of your body in his embrace, your warmth and scent surrounding him, was enough to make his body flush with desire.

To help take his mind off you…well, to help control his thoughts—there was no “not thinking” about you—he took a block of wood inside, his whittling blade in hand. When he looked at that block of unimpressive, plain wood, he could clearly see what he wanted to make. But even with his skill, it was a complicated task. At least he had months to work on it.

He spent most of his time whittling. He only took a break to cook, eat, maybe watch tv if he could get a signal in the blizzard. He also brought in a separate piece of wood, to practice different techniques on; he wanted his gift to you to be perfect, to show his love for you.

Sonny let his mind wander as he whittled—as long as he paid attention to the details. His mind irrevocably went back to you every time. He wanted to ask how you felt about kids; though you had mentioned wanting them before, he wanted to see if that was still true.

Eventually, his mind wandered to him marrying you. He wanted to propose, with rings and everything, have both your families there. Maybe he could build an archway to go in that meadow or something, cover it with flowers. He was already building a bridge to go across that creek by his place. An archway shouldn’t be too hard.

Then he smiled as a thought struck him; what if he whittled the wedding rings? He’d have to get better, perfect his craft before he even attempted at something so important. He’d have to talk to you about that, too, make sure you were okay with it. He had enough money to buy a traditional ring, if that’s what you wanted.

 ***********************

About a month into his project, he finished the first of what he hoped would be a dozen roses. He gazed intently at the bud, the petals. Then, his eyes travelled down the stem to the leaf, the veins carved into it. Was it the best rose ever made? Absolutely not. But it was a rose, and it would be perfect for you.

It had taken him much longer than he had anticipated to make one rose. He had stopped frequently to practice petals and veins, though, which had taken up time. Still, he was afraid he wouldn’t finish them quick enough; he had never spent a winter in the cabin, and he didn’t know how long the storms lasted (he had to make a call to the Willis’s for how to cover his gardens). So, while he felt jubilation at finishing one rose, he didn’t celebrate, instead getting right back to it.

The second rose only took him two weeks, and the third, a week. Now that the stems were done, he was getting faster at doing the petals and leaves. He still took his time, made sure he didn’t mess them up, but he was improving. Some of them, he left as bulbs, the petals just opening, while others were in full bloom. He debated painting them, but he wanted to make his own dyes, and he had no idea how to do that. Plus, he kind of liked the light, wooden color.

Once he finished, he fought the urge to continue working on them. He did go back and fix up some details in the first flower that he learned to deal with by the tenth. Now came the question of what to put them in. Does he get a fancy ribbon and tie the stems together for a bouquet? Or should he whittle a vase for them? It’s not like they needed water.

Outside, the blizzard raged on. So, Sonny figured he could make a vase, and if he didn’t like it, he could toss it in the fireplace. Taking yet another block of wood, he got to work. This project, he had a little less of a vision than before. He thought about it as he pulled the roses together, measuring how big of an opening he needed on top.

Slowly, a shape began to form in his mind’s eye, and he started cutting. He wanted a long, skinny neck on top, and a wider base. He wouldn’t have to hollow the inside, only the top part enough to hold the roses. Still, he was doing it by hand, and it took him another month to have just the basic shape done. But he wanted to add details.

Taking his smallest whittling tool, he went to work on the design. Maybe it was corny, but Sonny was a corny guy. He carved apples and his best attempt at lavender flowers, the two things that drew you both together. And in the middle, he carved out a heart, both of your initials inside. He smiled when he was done, knowing that you’d love it regardless; it came from him.

He collected all the wooden roses and rearranged them in the vase until they were how he wanted them. He smiled proudly at the sight, and he wished the snow would stop so he could give them to you now.

 **********************

He only had to wait another two weeks before the snow finally let up enough for him to visit you. The sky was a bright blue, the sun making the fallen snow blinding. Sonny texted you that he was coming over, asking if you wanted to go with him to the local shops to restock on some food. You agreed, and he was instantly on his ATV, the roses zipped up protectively in his jacket.

Sonny parked, then came up to your front door, vase in hand. He knocked and then was suddenly worried that you’d hate the roses, that you’d think him childish. You had given him blankets, something useful, while all he made was wooden flowers—

You opened the door, smiling brightly when you saw Sonny standing there. You had missed him deeply, and you were happy to see his hair and beard longer. Then your eyes flicked down to the wooden vase clutched in his hand.

“What’s this?” you asked, voice hushed in awe at the bouquet.

He swallowed hard. “I, uh, I made ya these fer ya…. I thought, ya know, that I should get ya flowers. But they always wilt and die, so I thought if I made them outta wood, then….”

“You—you made these?” Your eyes tore from the roses to lock to his blues.

He slowly extended his arm, holding the vase out to you, and you took it, marveling at the details in the leaves and petals, then the vase itself. You chuckled as you recognized the apples and lavender, and you had to blink away tears when you saw the heart.

“Sonny, I love them. Thank you so much,” you breathed, smiling up at him.

He grinned nervously, shifting from foot to foot. “Ya do? I was afraid that they weren’t useful—”

“Of course, they’re useful,” you replied, and he tilted his head, brow furrowed. “They show me how much you love me, even when you’re not here to tell me yourself.”

The brightness of his smile could match that of the sun. “Plus, they’ll never die, like my love for you.”

“You sap,” you said, giggling. With your free hand, you grabbed his jacket and pulled him to you for a sweet kiss. His nose and lips were chilled from the wind outside, but you didn’t care. Besides, his lips warmed quickly enough against yours.

“Come on; let’s head to the market so I can get ya home ‘fore the snow starts back up,” Sonny muttered against your lips.

You snuck another kiss. “Why bring me home? Why not just take me to your place? I know we could keep each other warm”

He let out a low growl, kissing you deeper, his tongue in your mouth. Your bodies were magnetic, drawing each other closer. It was a struggle to pull away long enough to place the roses on a table before you were back, body melding to his, hand going to his hair. He pushed you against the doorjamb, hands exploring under the hem of your jacket.

Your father cleared his throat from inside the house, and Sonny sprung off you as if you had shocked him. “S—sorry, sir—” he stammered, face turning a bright red.

Your father crossed his arms, giving him a hard look. “Just close the door; you’re letting the heat out.”

You gave Sonny a sheepish grin as he came inside, closing the door behind him. You told him you needed to pack some things, and you took the vase, heading for your room, leaving Sonny and your father alone.

The latter studied Sonny intently, gazing at him from over his spectacles, and Sonny tried not to fidget under his scrutiny.

“I intend to marry your daughter,” he blurted out. He winced internally; why the fuck did he say that?! But now that it was out there, he was prepared to defend it to the death. He kept his face a mask of stone, not letting your father see his fear.

He continued staring at Sonny, weighing his words. “Does she know that?”

“She does; I told her last time she was over. From the moment I saw her, I knew that I wanted nothin’ more than to marry her.”

He nodded lightly; just a jut of his chin. “Have you proposed? Do you have a ring?”

“It’s only been a few months; I wanted to wait a lil, make sure it’s what she wants, too,” Sonny explained.

“Just don’t wait too long; I don’t want you leading her on or hurting her.”

Sonny’s eyes widened in offense. “I would never—”

You came back right then, a duffle bag in your hand, and glancing nervously between the two men. “Whatcha talkin’ about?” you asked uncertainly.

“Nothing dear. Have fun and stay safe,” your father said, and he came over, kissing your cheek, then headed to a different room.

You cocked an eyebrow at Sonny, but he just shook his head, moving to hold the door open for you. Confused at the tension, you went out into the crisp, winter air, taking a deep breath. You were sure Sonny would tell you the whole story later.

[carmensapientia]

Why Modern Chanel Lacks The Glamour and Excitement of 90s Chanel: a Review

This seasons Chanel was an nostalgic throwback to Karl Lagerfeld’s Chanel. Viard made a great attempt at trying to replicating and modernize Lagerfeld’s work but ultimately it fell flat through the use of poor model castings and strange silhouettes that seemed to be rigid off kilter copies of Karl’s work. While the colors and patterns were beautiful, Viard struggled to detach from Karl’s original shapes, adding large patches of fabric half hazardously and struggling to make the fabric and textiles work. The models stomped the runway with great passion and confidence but the bombshell era is no more. The 90s makeup and hair was not seen on any model, the set was boring even with its references to the supermodel era(mainly because of the fake photographers) and I would have honestly preferred if they showed off the designs in their original set featured at the beginning of the show. On top of that the models lacked the grace flirtation and sophistication of 90s supermodels quickly turning sexy to vulgar and flirty to try hard high schooler impressing college boys. Chanel should have taken a page from Kim Jones and Donatella: get the real 90s supermodels to do the walk.

Now this is not to say that certain prices weren’t beautiful and that the models didn’t do a good job: they did. They just didn’t do an excellent job and that’s been a representative of Viards work at Chanel. Good, but never excellent. I’ll be highlight the works I love the most and critiquing the ones I don’t from now on.

The swimsuit looks were sizzling and hit the mark of what current Chanel can be if inspired by vintage Chanel. The shoes the cut and the jewelry all added up to a perfect look ready for summer. The last two suit sets were my least favorite of the suit sets but still I enjoyed the colors and the finer details of the look such as the shoes the bag and the buttons. The black is harsh contrast to bright rainbow colors in a way that detracts the eye from the overall success of the look and makes it look it seem downturn or even underwhelming.

The first two looks were a dream and absolutely something I would wear. It looks made for many audiences, young and of, and the bow details and touches of pink and white were simply magical. This dream feminine and youthful side of Chanel is one we haven’t seen in a while since Karl’s passing and I applaud Viard for stepping into his shoes and doing the task well. The knit looks were simple lovely and I thought the almost creamsicle yellow was a fabulous touch to this ultra light looking outfit, especially paired with the black shoes and bag. The pink look was wonderful but looks less Chanel and more Zara or H&M.

At first the bright colors of the looks interested me but looking closely I actually don’t enjoy these looks as much as I thought i would. The two pink looks are my favorite but the final black look and purple suit set fall flat for me though I do enjoy the 60s styles shape. Overall I really only like the color and fabrics of the clothing. It makes me feel jubilant but the high is quickly crushed by realizing they’re merely colorful rather than beautiful.

These looks are simply adorable. They’re more commercial ofc as they have the Chanel logo and will likely be the items we’ll see the most. Chanel branded pieces such as these always sell really well. Regardless this the 60s inspired silhouette are really enjoyable to watch, the constrasting black and white patterns are always a classic and the finer details/overall design quality seem to be solid. The final dress is something nee and fresh, with the little butterflies me catching my eyes and making me feel hopeful for future Chanel. Is Viard finally coming out of her cocoon? (P.s the jewelry is divine V.V bravo!)

Overall I enjoyed this show. It was a relatively great show for Viard and overall lack luster one for Chanel. The beginning looks were rocky, particularly the black and leather ones, as they see matronly, poorly crafted and at times, a bit cheap. However, Chanel’s collection was fun and nostalgic, full of colors many would enjoy and with a supermodel throwback that has us wishing for simpler more stylish times. 6.5/10

Love, carmensapientia

[novelconcepts]

After the proposal scene, do you think they considered themselves engaged and like, planned a wedding ceremony? Or did they just wear the rings and pronounce themselves wives right then and there?

It’s a quiet affair. Private. Jamie has never thought much of weddings, of the big explosive events that beg for attention, for near-strangers piling in from out of town, for gifts and cards and money spilled in every direction. Jamie has always thought, quietly, in a space reserved only for herself, that weddings are too expansive to be allowed. That love is too enormous to be contained in a white dress, a tiered cake, a church. 

She asks, that night, wound close to Dani in bed with that ring so new and so bright on her finger, if Dani has thought about it. If Dani needs that, wants that, with her. She’d said we can’t technically get married--but I don't really care, and she’d smiled a little, and Jamie had thought, Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter if anyone ever knows. Easy to think, in a moment of absolute jubilation. Later, with her head on Dani’s chest, with Dani’s hand trailing absently through her hair, she wonders. 

There’s something about the admission. About the announcement. About the rooftop cry of this is ours, this perfect, flawed thing I built with her. There’s something about the idea she finds appealing in ways she’d never bothered to imagine before Dani and a ring and a promise made by evening light. 

Dani doesn’t answer, at first. Not until Jamie raises her head, finds her eyes far away, her jaw tense. 

“We don’t have to,” she says, too quickly, worried she’s already taken this fragile promise Dani has made to keep moving forward and broken it. Dani’s lips curve, her hand steady on the back of Jamie’s head. 

“Don’t think we should...plan anything,” she says. “But...something small. Something just-us. Yeah.”

It’s only right, they decide--not to throw a party or invite the masses in to this quiet life they’ve made, but to signal to the stars that they’ve chosen. They’ve decided, even if no one will ever know or care, upon one another. 

There is a park, not far from the shop, where Jamie has always felt a little closer to home than anywhere else. A little closer to the old world, the old her, where all that green overwrites the awareness that America is something of an invasive species. It seeps into the cracks, pushes up the concrete, makes itself known on the flattening of her syllables, the words traded thoughtlessly from her native slang to this new, unpolished form. America, stamping itself onto her life one year at a time--except in places like this park, with trees that block out the skyline, with flowers that grow where they will, life finding a path of its own. 

She’d dreamed, once upon a peaceful yesterday, of taking Dani here one day. A fantasy world, where Dani didn’t flinch from clocks and calendars, where Dani didn’t meet every “next year” with a knowing little smile. A fantasy life, where she might sink to one knee--or just turn her head in Dani’s lap, letting the sun kiss her skin--and say, “What d’you think of forever?”

She never would have. Never would have, even if Dani didn’t look at her with such miserable longing sometimes, that fear papered over her smile like the patching of a damaged wall. Dani’s relationship with commitment is particular, and difficult, and her own. That Dani was the one to ask, in the end, feels right. 

Jamie would never have asked--but here, at sunset, on a day in late summer, she thinks, It’s still good. Here, where life is allowed to roam free as anything in this country ever can. It’s still right. 

There is a gentle breeze, a light mist of evening rain, a dress Dani wears when she’s feeling particularly alive. A ring to match the one on Jamie’s finger. No officiant, no witness; only heads bowed together in a grove of trees, surrounded by flowers not quite white, not quite blooming under moonlight. Only Dani murmuring inches from her lips that she could stand here for the rest of time, and it would feel very much by design. Only Jamie, eyes open, unable to sacrifice even a second of Dani’s smile. 

There are promises whispered, and laughter muffled, and they do not miss the music. The dancing. The toasts. Later--much later--Jamie will look out over a crowded floor packed with champagne flutes and long dresses and she will think, Ours was perfect. Ours fit. 

They tell their friends of the engagement, of the potted plant and the promise. They do not tell them they are, in their hearts, as married as anyone ever needs to be. It is, like so many parts of a story written with two hands, theirs alone. And there will come a time where papers may be signed, where the America which has seeped into so many cracks will demand proof--and Jamie will give it, gladly, because it reassures Dani to see their names on that paper. It reassures Dani, to know there will be something left behind when she’s gone.

She will give that much, and she will accept Dani’s scrawl on the page, and she will know it doesn’t really matter. They already know. They’ve already known. 

Some stories do not need to be shared, to be true. 

[aurumacadicus]

Part 4!

--

Tony stays just long enough to teach some of the healers on the island some of his techniques, and the smiths some of his designs, and then he gets all of his supplies together and bids everyone farewell.

“You’re not staying?” Sarah asks in surprise.

Tony blinks at her placidly. “My home is on the Stark Estate. Your kingdom was a lovely place to visit, and I’ve learned a lot, but it was never going to be my home.”

“We’re going with you,” Bucky informs him, stomping up the gangplank and followed by a terrifyingly large wolf.

“What,” Tony says.

“Don’t worry, we’ve gathered enough supplies for us, too,” Steve adds, and is indeed carrying several bundles under his bulging biceps. A bobcat follows gamely at his side, a single package dangling from its mouth like a kitten.

“What,” Tony says again, and considers trying to threaten them off his ship again, but then the wolf knocks him down and lies on top of him, and he spends the next hour shouting to be released from his furry prison while everyone else ignores him to get the boat underway.

“Holy shit,” James says when they show up at the estate, and he instinctively grabs Tony and yanks him behind him. “Who are they?”

“My kidnappers,” Tony says petulantly, and then beams up at him. “Rhodey! I brought a new child!”

“I’m going to leave if you bring another fucking child into this house,” James begins, and then melts when Dummy runs in a jubilant circle around them and then promptly eats shit on a rock and goes flying, wheels leaving the ground. “Well. This one’s okay. Your kidnappers aren’t,” he adds quickly when Steve and Bucky pick up their trunks to continue inside. “Also? Dogs as big as horses aren’t allowed. I’m sorry. Is that a fucking bobcat?”

“Steve and Sarah decided a lion would be too frightening to take into the general public,” Tony explains airily.

“More than the horse-dog?!” James sputters, waving at the wolf.

“He’s a horse-wolf,” Tony corrects, already wandering away.

“Hey, hey, where are you going?! We still have to talk about this!” James shouts, waving his arms at Steve, Bucky, the wolf, and the bobcat.

“I want to see my babies!” Tony calls back, already chugging along toward the barn.

James turns to give the others a very sour look, says, “I’m still calling it a dog,” and then bolts after Tony before they can take offense.

“Is this approval?” Bucky asks.

Steve begins toward the mansion. “Who cares? Hey, do you think Tony’s aware we’re courting him?”

“Absolutely not,” Peggy declares, before she flies off after Tony.

[shadow-scenarios]

How about a scenario where Haru's male s/o (who aspires to be a chef) makes spaghetti using her vegetables she's grown herself?

Haru!! Anon, I love Haru so much thank you for requesting this. Scenarios are fun to write when it’s not Akechi.

This was such a cool idea. I love making these kinds of prompts.

- Nexus.

Bon Appétit | Haru Okumura

Haru’s garden is a paradise of exotic colours. Even now, as she harvests the fruits of her labour, both herself & the garden are beautiful. There are onions, primed in pearlescent white; Slightly enlarged carrots with a vibrant orange, with a rough texture; Beans sprouting swiftly, quickly outgrowing their supporting beam that intended to keep them straight. As she picks them & places them into a basket for later use, Haru is ever so graceful. Careful never to catch herself on particularly sharp leaves, she moves with a grace & zeal never seen before by her significant other. Even now as he watches her hum a little tune, everything is tranquil.

Once the ritual of gardening is complete, she comes a stop, the little world created quickly shifting away. Next comes the organisation of the plants. Although all of them are ripe, not everything is useable. Feeling through the textures of each one, they are sorted accordingly: Good plants can be used as trials for experimenting with flavour, whereas the bad plants are

It does not take long for her to finish. As she does so, she turns to face her significant other who is leaning against the wall of the Shujin Academy roof. There is little space to make comfortable but it is a simple price to in order to observe his girlfriend in a state of bliss. A feeling of warmth overcomes him: This is how she spends her free time, attending to a peaceful little garden.

“ Do you like it here? ” as she asks this, the jubilant atmosphere becomes more passive. Haru rings her hands together.

“ Yeah. It’s really nice. I can’t believe you come up here & water the plants every day, it must be really time consuming, ” he replies. There is a visible deflation of relief in her body language as he does so.

“ I’m glad you like it. This is one of my favourite places to be. No one to tell me how or when to look after the plants. It’s wonderfully relaxing, to say the least. Although I’m not sure what to do with this harvest. There are just so many plants & although Akira likes to have a few for the cafe, there are still too many for me to reasonably eat... ” Haru says, trailing off.

“ Why don’t I make you a dish? There’s so many varied vegetables here, I’m sure I could whip something decent up. ”

“Really? ” she clasps onto his hands with her own, intertwining them as she speaks, “ That would be absolutely wonderful! ”

So it would only be a few hours later that together they carry an entire bag full of vegetables, receiving strange looks from the commuters heading home from a busy day at work. With difficulty, they avoid crushing the precious cargo on the congested lines long enough to reach the Okumura residence. Haru retrieves a key from one of her pockets, twisting the door open with practised ease.

Extravagant is the correct word to use in order to describe the mansion. He passes by plush leather couches that seem unused, as no pillows are disturbed & there is no evidence of a crease mark from where one would seat themselves. It is eerily quiet as they pass by the other rooms, isolating echoing through the hallways. He cannot help feeling bad for Haru, as living here in such an empty atmosphere filled with hollow riches must be rather perturbing. Everything feels so perfect, like a reflection in a mirror.

The kitchen is actually rather small. Not a single glass or utensil has been left out, there is merely a pristine white countertop in a modern design, with some utilities hanging from hooks on a wall, just as new as the day they had been purchased. Unloading the food seems to almost be a first. Offering to make tea, Haru stepped aside while he got to work.

It was all an intimately practised process. Spaghetti was a rather simple dish to make but it was not common in Japan. Soon the silence became filled with the sounds of general noise. The sound of chopping was cathartic; Hearing pots & pans clanking was annoying but rather welcome in such an empty house and the jingle of cutlery was an unusual sound to Haru.

Not even a few hours later, everything was ready & the dish was absolutely beautiful. Although her vegetables lacked flavour, the bolognese brought out brilliant flavours that she had never experienced. Perhaps it was something about the appeal of having a home meal made for her with love instead of instant noodles or having to make something herself that made the food delicious.

Today was the day Haru fell in love with his cooking.

Word Count: 800

Publish Date: 07.10.20

[afoxysunny]

Jives as High Duke

So Jives gets a second pick and oh my G did i struggle with choosing this one. In the end I'm pretty happy with the decision to give him the Monkey Miraculous

The whole story for how he ended up with having to pick a second time is already on the post about Stingy, who gets the Turtle from Jives, so I'll try not to repeat myself too much

So here are the references for this design

This design came out a lot simpler than it probably should be considering that it's based on the Chinese Monkey King but Jives isn't one for overly flashy and elaborate costumes in my opinion

Also, yes, again, his eyey should be blue but making colour changes to coloured pencil drawings is really hard, I'm sorry

Again, i just did what felt natural to me and in no time this was the outcome. Conclusion: drawing Jives comes very natural to me and i appreciate him for that

Design Notes:

Chest Pattern - i wanted to make the chest pattern here resemble the one he had as Grinder Turtle, this was also a big factor that sold me on giving him this Miraculous. I just think it looks really cool and it connects the two designs in a vague sense

Beanie - my boy Jives always wears some sort of hat, this is no exception. The Monkey Miraculous is a Crown and here it blends in so it now replaces the brim section of the beanie. On second thought it might be a little basic to choose a beanie but it just really suits him, i couldn't think of a better fit. Especially because it goes along really well with the headshape of the monkey i based him on

Toque Macaque - I'll be real with you, I'm not a huge fan of monkeys which makes them one of the few animal species i don't love and also makes the biggest reason i wasn't immediately happy to give my dear Jives this Miraculous xD I'm shallow i know. Anyways. I may not know a lot about monkeys but i knew enough to pick this macaque because the colours go well enough with the Monkey Kwami Xuppu and i liked the markings it has. [coicidentally this specific kind, the Toque Macaque, happens to share its natural habitat with the peacock ;)]

Tail - on his back you see how the rope detailing from his chest and pants combine into the belt and eventually the tail. I wanted the markings to kind of resemble a harness for climbing, i don't think it comes across too well though

Hair - the little bit you can still see of his actual hair coincidentally blends in almost seamlessly with the colour of his costume, that wasn't planned but i like it a lot

Reasoning:

At the point in time where i made the decision that Stingy would take the Turtle Miraculous from Jives i already had most Miraculous assigned to most other characters, in fact i was only really missing one for Ziggy. So spoiler alert i guess for him. I fudged around for a while between the Mouse and the Monkey, both would've worked well with either but in the end settled on the Monkey for Jives for multiple stupid timy reasons. For example the chest pattern i already mentioned, my ship-trash side going "a monkey and a peacock fit together way better aesthetically than a mouse and a peacock would", he and Xuppu would have a funny bro dynamic together etc.

Story:

I already explained why and how Jives loses the Turtle Miraculous to Stingy in my post about the latter so I'll just give a short summary here before moving on

As per usual Jives didn't eat much throughout the day and ends up fainting. This time it's a much bigger deal though. Usually he doesn't actually fully faint, just sway a little, maybe collapse but for the most parts he stays conscious just really weakened. That day the team of new heroes is fighting an important battle when he full on passes out in the middle of it. Luckily Stingy is able to step in to build their defense up again.

Obviously, instead of saying "i eat as little as possible because i have a problem" Jives just shrugs it off and goes "guess i didn't eat enough again, my bad guys, sorry" and thinks it'll be fine. He didn't expect Álfurildi, aka Sportacus, to take this very literal and announce that he planned on having them eat in his airship as a whole group anyway gor team moral and to make sure they're all healthy enough to actually handle a Miraculous. They deduce that must have been the reason Jives full on fainted this time, while going by his usual life he obviously didn't need as much energy as he now needs to be a superhero so the simple solution is to just eat more.

He makes excuses to not eat with the others as often as he can but one day he'd have to actively leave the others to do so as he already is in the airship with them when they start preparing to serve the next meal. That day he actually snaps at Sportacus that he just doesn't want to eat. Unfortunately, thanks to being such a gentle soul and also sensing Jives frustration and hunger Sportacus tries to comfort Jives with the worst thing he could've said. "heroes gotta eat well, so you can become big and strong" to which Jives absolutely loses it. He snaps at him "I'm already too big without eating anything, can't you just leave me alone!" and just jumps out of the airship. By now he already has Xuppu as his new partner so of cause he makes it down unharmed to run off into the forest. Sportacus wants to follow him but Robbie stops him. Robbie, who so far was pretty quiet and reclusive when the teens came to visit, says he will go find and talk to him taking Pixel with him as he is his best friend after all.

I'll spare you the unnecessarily details i cane up with and just say this is the moment Robbie gets to explain how the powers i gave him work and we get to see that he does really deeply care but just can't really express it. They find Jives and thanks to Robbie being able to relate to him about some of his insecurities and Pixel being a great friend he ends up confessing to them about his eating disorder. He never wanted to be the odd one out but never managed to fit in with the others. It's hard to hide you're different when you're towering over your peers so he figured if he just stopped eating he'd stop growing and though it had no positive effect on him he just couldn't stop doing it even after realizing how bad it had gotten.

Going back to the airship together once the situation calmed down a bit and with Jives' permission they let Sportacus in on this secret. As Robbie figured, the local health expert knows exactly what foods wouldn't upset such an empty stomach too badly and they start the process of finding a few good things for Jives to eat so he doesn't break down again.

Name:

Quick, something more lighthearted

When Jives gets his second pick for a Miraculous his eyes fall on the little Monkey, Xuppu. The two pretty quickly get along thanks to Xuppu being a jokester and Jives liking how bro-like they can talk and poke fun at each other. This turns out to be a great pick as this Kwami of Jubilation not only like shouting random noises around just like Jives but is also sassy and straightforward enough to remind him to eat every once in a while by poking fun at him using something Pixel once said to him "I'll not let you eat less than the Kwamis" (yes this part should've technically been in the reasoning section but you kinda need the context of the story for it so i put it here)

So Trixie explains that Xuppu's transformation and powers are based on the Chinese Monkey King (she knows that from the Guardians) but Jives really isn't one for flashy costumes and important titles so not only is his costume more basic than it probably should be but also he wamts to name himself "Duke". Stingy immediately objects "A duke is about as royal as a prince! You're completely underselling this concept. You have to trade with me! You get yoir turtle back. Let me be King!" Xuppu and Wayzz look at each other and roll their eyes, Xuppu then steps floats forward to say "well, he's not entirely wrong. Wouldn't you like to pick something higher?" so Jives chuckles and goes "High Duke". Again Stingy is outraged by this disrespect "that's ridiculous!" but Xuppu laughs and says "no, i like his style! Let's do this!" and so their new duo is established

Look, don't judge me, everyone headcanons Jives with growing not all legal things in his garden so now that he's actually a teen in my au I'm keeping it xD

Thank you so so much for reading so much of my rambling. You're so cool for taking the time to read this!

[kurtty-drabbles]

Not a princess au

N/A: slightly based on Magnus bride with the exception that Ariel is not Chise. Chise is too depressed.

@dannybagpipesarecalling @djinmer4 @tieflingteeth @niuniente

In her childhood´s memories, among the smells of sweet pies and other desserts, are the stories her grandmother used to share-everyone coming together near the matriarchy as she often flashes a pearl white smile- and Ariel can recall many of her stories.

And one that stood up the most was the small tale of poor and miserable faes. “Granny” Ariel greets her granny who just closed the window-muttering how the winter finally arrives- and hugs the smaller girl. “Tell me a story, please!” and dramatically begs with her doe eyes. Her granny compliance.

“Ok, ok…since you asked so nicely” she puts the girl in her lap and tells the old story. “Once upon a time…there´s a lovely woman. A fae as only a fae could reach such beauty” she chuckles as Ariel is trying to imagine a pretty fae. “and it was a beauty the Gods offer to her. Beauty is a gift for a fae. And such beauty was meant to marry the Fae prince, a prince from the light court, you know, the typical handsome fae prince” and Ariel is trying to imagine such a handsome man.

“However, the lovely fae falls for another, see, faes can love…but is a rarity in itself, so rare that maybe she wasn´t in love…maybe it was something else” granny tiptoe on the terms. Ariel rolls her eyes and mentions it was lust (it was lust, granny, I get it) “anyway, she decides to e with the mortal…faes must love tragedy stories and their own arrogance because such beauty thought she wouldn´t face the consequences”

“But she did…”

“Oh, Ariel…she did. The prince wasn´t very happy with his bride wanting to marry a human…and patience sometimes can be forsaken in the fae world…so, he put a curse on her” and granny´s eyes turn dark. “after sending some friends to visit this poor human. It doesn´t matter if he was innocent…faes can be cruel and the mortal begs for death in the end…not sure if it was answered”

“Poor silly mortal”

“And the beauty fae …is cursed. She can´t touch anyone or anything ever again” Her granny concludes as Ariel keeps imaging the fate of such poor and foolish fae.

“And her family move away and never talk about it?” Ariel asked. Now, that´s a good question.

“Her brethren were exiled of the court and are freely walking among humans…an exiled fae is common. But a fae who has a cursed relative is as rare as a fae loving a human…bad omen! An extremely bad omen will follow them until the end” and Ariel is hang up on those words.

“And the Gods did nothing?”

“Pretty much”

“What bastards!”

“Kitty!”

“We´re Jewish…we can say that” and winks in the conspiracy. Granny chuckles at this. And the Granny elects herself to be an accomplice. The rocking chair remains a completely unmoving-a paradox for Ariel only- and the tale continues.

“Now, you must be worried…what this means to humans? Exiled faes are dangerous and they will do anything to get your name…faes don´t play fair and exiled faes can break even more rules” The granny continues.

“And …if they have a cursed relative…they have no reason to play nice either” Ariel nods sagely and granny suggests to never give her name until you have absolutely sure the person won´t use against you. _________________________________________________________________________________________

The city is flocking with several mutants and humans. No festival is on the horizon, but, the higher spirits, sometimes, don´t need a holiday to commemorate. Ariel is one of the few people taking the scene with suspicious eyes. As her friend, Bobby is guiding her far away from the number of people.

They´re reaching a yellow path-yellow. Not golden- as Bobby is promising something wonderful down the road. Bobby is chatting away- too freely. Too used to his own voice- while Ariel is merely taking his words still careful. In a moment, Ariel sighs and suspends her moves and utters a few words- with her hand on her pocket- “you know, you can stop acting…I know you´re not him, fae” and she can feel the tomfoolery smile often associated with Bobby is gone.

“How did you notice it?” the tone is more feminine now. Still wearing Bobby´s face with one big difference. The eyes are golden now. Ariel didn´t reach closer of the fae- still, keep a safe distance- and responds.

“You flirt with me and other ladies…Bobby is gay” no apologizes was given nor was expected. The fae snaps her fingers and hissed something. “I forget to see this detail, well, it doesn´t matter…you´ll come with me” is order and Ariel can only frown her expression.

“Why? Why should I willingly go to a trap?”

And the fae offers a cruel smile to Ariel. “If you don´t value your friends´ life. We can keep Jubilation Lee” cold runs through her blood now. Ariel still has her hand in the pocket and has no choice in following the fae.

Faes don´t lie. In the promising space-a pocket dimension stops being a novelty when you live in a world where magic is so convenient- and hanging above on a cage. There is Jubilation Lee.

“Ariel!” she cries. “They trick me. She´s a shapeshifter…I thought…I thought she was Wolverine…I thought she was Laura…” and Ariel can see why Jubilation would fall for this trick. Crushes are a favorite weapon faes like to use against mortals.

Laura, she thought, would be happy to know her crush is not onesided…after she kills the faes.

And Ariel had enough. Taking a knife out of her pocket and twisting her arms- twisting her arms- puts the knife, an iron knife as the blue fae can feel, on her neck. “Bad choice, let Jubs go and you´ll still have a head above your neck!” is a thinly veiled threat. No, is a promise.

Ariel almost gasps as she feels a cold metal. Her does eyes manage to side back enough so the vision of this new welcomer is clear. An azzure man with crimson eyes- a red scar on his right eye- and is holding the sword firmly.

“Let go of the knife and you´ll still have a head above your neck” no one seems to acknowledge the fact those words are being parroted into Ariel´s face.

Flight or fight kicks in. Faes don´t lie…but can deceive.

“And why I would do this?” she tries again. Smirking as the knife stays- grimacing as the sword did too- “so I can watch you torture my friend? pass”

“We don´t want to torture anyone” the azzure man begins. Not the warmest line. “We´re here to make a trade” and she could show more interest if the sword wasn´t so well-positioned and so near her neck.

Ariel looks up to see Jubilation Lee. Ariel has no choice but to listen to their terms. “You work for me and I´ll burn her name out of our memories” and Ariel exhales as she slowly takes the knife away from the azzure lady´s neck.

“Swear by your real name?” Ariel counter-asked.

“Swear by my name” he responds. The azzure lady burns the name, only after Ariel agrees with the terms. “What should I call you?”

“Nightcrawler,” he said somewhat proud.

“Oh, worm?”

“Uhm, not a princess” his eyes travel to his mother- he called her mother when the deal was made- and then tries again. “Kurt”

“So not like a princess” _______________________________________________________________________________________

Looking up at the cottage. Is not the most luxurious place Ariel has ever seen- and to be fair, she didn´t saw many either- however, is not ugly by design.  Ariel could enjoy the architecture in peace if this situation wasn´t so bizarre.

Her hands are quivering ever so slightly. Faes can be deviants. Faes can do unimaginable things and faes value human life as much one would value poop.

Kurt only took one good look at her to know what´s on her mind. “I only need someone to clean my house. Just that” and yes, her hands stop quivering and her eyes take his form completely incredulous.

“Uhm, you could have used the Craiglist” Ariel suggested in a teasing way. “Pretty sure is not that expensive and it is not as complex as using my friend as bait” she states still incredulous.

“What´s a craigslist?” either he´s joking or he has no idea what is a craigslist. Ariel decides for her sake to not press the issue. For now.

She sighs and then inquiries again. “I´ve read many fairytales, and I know there´s always a forbidden room I mustn´t enter or else” she mock an ominous voice here. In front of a fae with crimson eyes. “so, which room I mustn´t waltz at night” she crosses her arms waiting.

“The last door on the second floor. You shouldn´t enter there” Kurt begins. Ariel grins, there´re always secret or forbidden doors humans can´t cross.

“And if I waltz there…” she pries.

And Kurt´s face is a bit too close to Ariel. “Katzchen, what reason could you have to want to join into my bed at night?” and tsked “not what a normal princess would say”

Ariel´s face is heating up. “Sir, how dare make any suggestion…I´m a decent lady” and raise an eyebrow at his last comment. “and princesses are too boring for little old me” ______________________________________________________________________________________________

Friendships among mutants are hard, at least, for Bobby Drake it was. Maybe, it was his immaturity and his silly pranks that prove hard to others to rely on him-Scott said so once. Pranks are nice, but, you need to know when to stop- therefore, the few friends Bobby has…the Iceman tries to be as much of a good friend as possible.

Shaking and swallowing aren´t signals to be ashamed. Not being behind Jubilation Lee. Bobby is not ashamed of anything nor afraid. Jubilation rings the doorbell and Ariel is the one to answer and Bobby-never one to be subtle- breath in utter relief- the two ladies ignore this scene.

“Hey, we come here to see you…” Jubilation tries to put her cheerful facade, but, she´s still feeling guilty. “We´re trying to find a way to take you out…There are many lawyers for cases like this…and Jean even promised to help” Jubilation completes.

“Guys, I´m fine…I´m just his maid here, nothing salacious is happening here” Ariel promised. “Are you alright?”  this question can be direct to Jubilee or Bobby.

“You´re living with a fae…and you ask if we´re fine? Ariel…” Jubilee shakes her head. A change in the subject is in order now.

“How did you found me?”

“Bobby here” she points to the Ice-mutant. “slept with the higher-ups in the Inhuman court and they´re happy to give your location…sadly, they can only do this…for now” she lost bits of enthusiasm.

Iceman decides to break the silence. “Ariel, do you know who this fae is?”

“A fae with red eyes?” is a lucky guess if you ask Ariel.

“No, he´s an exiled fae…and exiled faes are the worst…remember the story about exiled faes? The most famous one is about a pretty fae that should have married another prince fae but well…she had cold feet and well…” he looks awkward now. “no one gets a happy ending”

And this story sounds familiar. ________________________________________________________________________________________

“Uhm, are you sure, handsome?” Ariel reacted to that request as any normal person would. “I´m not the best cooker and I think there´re many on Craiglist who would love to work for a fae with crimson eyes” her tone is teasing. Kurt is not commenting on this.

“Well, unless you´re a princess and you can´t do this chore” and he smiles. No, more like sneers and Ariel has mixed feelings about this. Either Kurt loves princesses or he hates them-the image of him being rejected by a princess plays in her mind- and she notices how he´s expecting a reaction from his words.

“Why this obsession with me being a princess? I told you before, no blue blood in my family” The Prydes lived well, but, no one would look at them and think they´re nobility.

“Every woman wants to be a princess” and adds. “the gods said so”

“Gods are dicks” is her intelligent response. For a moment, Ariel thought he would get angry-faes worship some deities here and there- and maybe Kurt will take offense to her words.

Instead, he smiles too pleased. “They´re. Can you cook?”

And in her mind, Ariel made a delicious meal worthy of a king, of course, in reality, the food is badly burned and too salty. Kurt can´t take a bite and neither does Ariel.

“Yeah…not a princess” he agrees and snaps his fingers as decent food appears at the table.

“You can…you can made food but still needs a maid to clean your house?”

“No”

“Why am I here then?”

“Your food is getting cold”

“Curse you and your delicious magic food”

__________________________________________________________________________________________

How long is Ariel working for this strange exiled fae? hard to know, hard to care. Lately, Ariel is taking each detail of the cottage and from the owner as much she can. For example, the sour azzure man likes to be in his study room, doing gods know what, but often leaves at some time to the woods, and Ariel is left wondering what he does there.

In the study room, she has permission to clean-she blushes as the insinuation of his room and Ariel entering still plays in her mind- when she can notice two things: first and foremost, the room is immaculate. And second, there´s a painting a lovely woman with auburn hair and white streak.

Ariel comes closer and inspects the painting. The name Rogue is written bellow. She almost touches it. Almost. “That´s my sister” his voice draws in and Ariel is too used now. “I had a sister once…” and Ariel can nod in sympathize.

His eyes bore into Ariel. “Aren´t you thinking anything weird about me and my sister…”

“No, you big dummy, you look just like I do when I mentioned my granny…she passed away…she used to tell me stories” Ariel reveals this piece of information.

“Oh, is that….because I´m a fae…mortals seem to think I´ve no sense of family or love” and is the softest tone she ever listens to him responding. “family and faes are different from humans, so, of course, my family is different from the others faes…”

“Is just you and your mother now?”

“Yes, just me and my mother…she didn´t take Rogue´s demise so well…no one did” and he adds looking at her. “she was supposed to marry this prince but Rogue refused and the Gods” Ariel can see him gritting his teeth. Showcasing his fangs. “decide to punish her”

“Gods are jerks”

“Yes, they´re…and you´re not a princess”

“I´ll try not to cry on my pillow tonight. I promise” ________________________________________________________________________________________

Kurt found Ariel doing the laundry-Kurt did help as she berates him saying his hand wouldn´t fall if he did his share- when rubbing his neck Kurt makes a strange request. “Would you like to see my sister?” and Ariel never heard of a tombstone for faes, then again, it doesn´t matter.  "of course…should I bring something?“

Kurt shakes his head.

The walking didn´t take more than 5 minutes. And soon, Ariel is looking at the statue of Rogue-maybe that´s how faes pay respect-and Kurt is the one to break the silence in a weak tone. So different from the first day.

“That´s my sister. She´s blessed with beauty to marry a prince fae. The Gods thought it would be funny to make her fall in love with a mortal…and it would be hilarious to punish her…” and taking a deep breath he adds. “she´s not dead…she´s cursed. The statue is my sister”

Ariel looks at the statue and back to Kurt. “And that´s why I´m here? to break this curse?” inquires back Ariel not seeing how she, of all people, could do this. She has no magic and as she proves time and time again. Not a princess.

“The Gods have a strange sense of humor. Only the tears of a lady that refused any form of being a princess can save my sister. Your tears can restore her life…you more than once rejected the life of a princess” Kurt answers.

“My tears?” she gazes up to the statue and then re-direct her attention to Kurt. “ok, tell me something sad, Kurt, make me cry and I´ll try to save your sister”

Kurt blinks as his mouth opens freely. “I was married once…my wife was devoured as a part of a sick joke” Ariel holds his hand -is really soft like velvet- and he carries on. “my biological father abused my mother in some form…I never asked for details and she´ll never give it to me…I was in more wars than you can imagine…and I miss my sister. My family is smaller and strange, but, is my family and I missed them” and her tears fall right after this admission. Slowly but surely.

Rogue blinks her eyes. Rogue is no longer a statue. _________________________________________________________________________________________

Being turned into a stone and then being brought back to life is a feeling only Rogue can fully understand. Mystique is trying to console as much as she can- Kurt too. The two azzure aren´t very affable, but, are trying- and Rogue asked about the mortal she was forced to love. “he´s no longer alive…I promised” and Rogue takes his word.

He could trap Ariel, couldn´t he? She made no demands nor deals when she cries to save his sister. He could make her stay here forever. “Be careful when doing deals with faes…you´re free to go”

“I´m free…that´s great, and that´s great your sister is back…look” she then whispers as she is about to reveal a secret. “next time, if you really need a maid…use Craiglist and not try to blackmail anyone to help you” Ariel teases him but her eyes have some seriousness to it.

“I´ll try…” is the best he can promise to her.

“Good, and if you want to visit me or if you want me to visit you…no need to tricks…just shows up and say hi, ok?”

“That I can do it”

She´s not a princess by any means and yet, she´s far more interesting than one.

[theladyspooks]

In Morte, Aerternitatis Ch. 1: Begin

New Orleans, LA 1995

Storm clouds bordered the edge of town, a distant rumbling threatening to disrupt the merry making taking place only days before Mardi Gras in the jubilant city of New Orleans. Anastasia Fyodorov drove her cerulean 1966 Ford Mustang through the cobblestone streets as the radio played softly in her ears.

Are you with me, New Orleans? Do ya hear me? This is the Kingfish coming to you at 96.2 FM. Anointed and appointed. Just three more days, Crescent City, three days until Lent. So let's have it, the merriment before the penance, and the feast before the fast! The Kingfish gonna keep y'all company all the way down. Hey, brothers and sisters, y'all know what "carnival" means in Latin? Well, the Kingfish went to the good schools, so he can tell you all about it. Carnival. Farewell to the flesh. That's what it means. I like that a lot! Farewell to the flesh. Yeah, you right. And farewell to all that floodin', as far as I'm concerned. That's right. Look at it. The banks of the mighty Mississippi are ready to spill their seed. Just look at that sky out there. It's ready to rain on us again. And the clouds? Well, now, brothers and sisters, they're not the only thing threatenin' the Crescent City. We're talking murder, mes amis. Or so we've heard before, the hook man, kerchunk. So when you pull on your costume and turn to admire yourself in the mirror, please keep those lips locked tight. Do not call his name.

Anya let out a chuckle before pulling onto a side street and switching the car off, her mind swam with thoughts of young teens daring to utter the infamous name all for a few bragging rights amongst their friends. True, her brother had always flirted with the idea of attempting the same, often trying to goade her into calling upon the vengeful spirit. Their mother, however, had taught her far better than to mess with anything associated with the supernatural. Better to let the dead stay that way, after all.

‘Speak of the Devil.’ She thought with a chuckle as she spotted a familiar face leaving her dance studio. She retreated from the car and locked it with a smirk.

“Missed me already, Vadim? What would your employees think of you leaving the brunch rush just to see your sister?” She teased.

“I’ll have you know that Doc has the rush handled just fine, thank you. Plus…” He reached behind his back and pulled a pair of keys out, “You forgot your studio keys at the bar.” He chuckled as Anya’s whole body untensed and she threw herself into his arms in gratitude.

“I know I give you so much shit, but I really have no idea what I’d do without you, moy brat.” No matter how long the siblings spent in America, their native tongue of Russian would always be a part of their lives.

“You’ll never have to worry about that, dushen'ka,” Vadim squeezed his sister fondly and relinquished the keys to her when she pulled back, “Now run along, your students await and Doc will be expecting me back soon.” He patted her cheek fondly and chuckled when she scrunched her face in mock annoyance.

“Okay, okay, enough touchy feely time. Get back to it and swing by the house later, I’ll cook you some gumbo and biscuits as a thank you.” She laughed and began walking to her studio keys firmly in hand as Vadim voiced his agreement at her offer, turning and making his own way back down town.

Anya unlocked the door and began to prepare for the day’s classes, the smell of last night's shoe chalk still fresh in the air to accompany her thoughts.

Vadim had always been an attentive older brother, even as far back she could remember from her time in Russia. Constantly watching out for her and being the responsible male figure in her life when their father could not. Not that it was their father’s fault, of course, what with his family’s safety to worry about.

Or so their mother had always told them.

It had only been five years since Elena Fyodorov’s passing at the hands of a car accident, but to Anya it truly felt like yesterday. No one was really at fault, a child had chosen the wrong time to wander out into the street in order to retrieve his ball and Elena had swerved to avoid hitting him. Unfortunately, the impact from colliding with a lone street pole was just enough to take her mother away instantly. After that, it was up to the Fyodorov twins to survive the world on their own with no mother and a seemingly absent father.

Life, however, was not entirely cruel to the Russian redheads. With the immense fortune their parents had bequeathed unto them both had flourished in their own respective professions, Vadim with a Russian New Orleans fusion restaurant and Anya with her own ballet studio for children and teens whose parents could not afford to send them to the bigger cities. Nothing gave her more happiness than being able to do what she loved while teaching others along the way. Was it the easiest craft in the world?

Absolutely not.

Being a ballerina meant long days into longer nights with a strict schedule that had one's body screaming for a hot bath. Anya didn’t want that to be what her students felt, she wanted them to enjoy what they did; to feel the emotion and passion that went into dancing. It was more than just movement; it was poetry, a story to tell, a-

“Mornin’ Miss Ani!”

Anya grasped her chest in surprise, turning to face the energetic voice with a smile.

“Yasmine! You nearly gave me a fright, sweetheart.” She pushed her hair back with a smile as the rest of the kids filed in through the door.

“Sorry Miss Ani! Wasn’t my intention, I swear!”

“I know, Sweetheart, I know. Don’t worry about it,” She smoothed the young teen’s baby hairs down, “Now go put your flats on and get ready for stretches.” Yasmine nodded and ran back to join her friends near their cubbies.

‘Just another day.’ Anya shook her head before joining her students.

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The evening was still light as Anya cleaned and organized the studio for the night, her muscles well used and ready for a shower. Well, a shower after she cooked dinner for herself and Vadim.

Normally the idea of cooking would be fine with her, perfect in fact what with how much she enjoyed it. As much as Vadim was the big chef of the family, she knew she could hold her own when it came to the comforts of the kitchen; often having to cook and care for her brother when he was sick or hungover from the previous night.

She wiped her hands on her leggings and slung her gym bag onto her shoulder, keys jingling in hand as she went to lock up for the night. Breathing in the warm New Orleans air at night was more refreshing than any shower she could dream up. It was refreshing and rejuvenating in ways that she couldn’t put into words after spending most of the day in the stuffy studio with a gaggle of energetic kids.

She turned the lock to the studio, ready to get in her car and head home.

“Anya?!” She turned to see a familiar truck pull up near her car.

“Annie? Paul? What are you two still doing over here, I thought you would’ve been home by now.” Her confusion only grew when Annie got out of the car and lightly jogged to her before hugging her tightly.

“Anya, it’s Ethan, the cops are keeping him in the station. I-” Anya hushed her gently, her hands softly running up and down her back as Paul too exited the vehicle. Her face must have held the question she had waiting on the tip of her tongue.

“Got a call from Annie today that Ethan was being held for- well, held for suspicion of murder on multiple counts.” Paul looked none too thrilled that a nice night with his wife was dashed by such a dark turn of events.

Anya had always admired the love shared between Annie and Paul, how effortlessly they floated around each other as if it was fate’s design. She couldn’t ever remember her father looking at her mother the way Paul looked at her best friend.

“Murder? Annie, what-” The blonde cut her off.

“I know it sounds crazy, but he didn’t do it! I know he’s been so off kilter since Daddy died, but he wouldn’t murder anyone Anya, he wouldn’t!”

“Hey, hey, take it easy Ann! No one here is saying that,” She held her shoulders, “Where is Ethan now?”

“Still being held in police custody, they’re convinced he murdered Purcell-”

“Purcell? Professor Philp Purcell, the man who wrote that Candyman book?”

“Yes, him and- and they’re trying to pin all the recent murders on Ethan, including Daddy!”

Now that made her pause. The death of Coleman Tarrant was heard throughout the entirety of Louisiana and no one was more devastated than Ethan. He’d been the one to discover Coleman in front of the hidden Candyman shrine in the old Tarrant ancestral estate. He’d been obsessed with the legend weeks before his death, often spending late nights at the bar of Vidam’s restaurant combing over notes and muttering to himself. Ethan had blamed himself, citing that if he’d found his father sooner that he could have saved him.

Nothing Annie nor her mother told Ethan would ever convince him otherwise it seemed. No, it was preposterous to think Ethan would ever harm his family let alone any human being, even one as arrogant as Philip Purcell.

“Is there anything we can do?” She knew there was little she could say to make this go away, but she could try. Annie shook her head and grasped Anya’s hands.

“Not right now, not until we can find something that could prove Ethan innocent to the murders,” She sighed as Paul came up alongside the both of them, “We were going to head back to my childhood home in the morning, try and find something that could help make sense of all this.”

“I can meet you both there if you need an extra hand? Only have a nightly pointe class tomorrow with the kids I need to be at.” Hell, she could even cancel that if it meant proving Ethan as innocent.

“That would be real fine, Anya,” Paul intercepted and wrapped his arms around both the young women’s shoulders, “But in the meantime, you’re welcome to come back to the bar for a drink on the house, think we could all use one after today.” She smiled at his kindness.

“You know on any normal day I’d never pass up free booze, but I promised Vadim I’d cook him a meal tonight. Now come on, group hug hm?” She laughed as Annie cracked a smile while Paul chuckled, squeezing both ladies equally.

“We’ll see you at the old plantation house in the morning then?” Annie inquired after pulling out of the hug.

“Of course, Ann” She hugged her best friend one last time before kissing Paul on the cheek, “Have one on me, Mister Manager.” Paul laughed and patted her back fondly.

“Don’t gotta tell me twice!” He laughed.

With one last wave, Anya trekked to her car; images of the clear night and legends dancing in her brain.

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The Fyodorov villa was old, but still big enough to accomodate a family of three or more. In the case of Anya and Vadim the latter couldn’t handle the absence of his mother enough to live there, opting to find his own estate nearby. Anya felt in a similar fashion to her brother yet slightly different.

The thought of her family home sitting in ruins or used as a vacant lot wasn’t something that thrilled her by any means. Their family had engraved too many memories, painted too much love within the walls of this estate for her to simply sell it to the highest bidder.

The decision to keep the villa came with a few opportunities to redecorate and make the space her own, keeping all of her mother’s prized possessions and their childhood memories stored in the attic for safe keeping. Gone were the emerald green walls and gold drapery, replaced by a celestial pink and cream velvet. Paintings of moon lit scenery and castles in a far away land lined the walls with various antiques and flowers accompanying marbles tables.

Some may call her sense of decorum tacky, almost old fashioned, but it reminded her of home; a fond memory that she never fully got to embrace.

Something she still desperately clung to.

While she kept everything light and airy throughout the estate, her own room was styled to fit a more romantic mood. Swathed in white lace drapery and painted a deep burgundy to offset her chestnut bed post, it’s arms reaching towards the ceiling while holding black velvet netting to encase her in her own dreams. Two shelves lined the walls and held her most favorite stories, some that she had enjoyed in childhood and others that stole her attention even now.

Of all the rooms in the villa, one that meant the world to her, one that she found herself in now was the little dance studio that she had gutted the basement for, one that was only accessible through the pulling of a blue book of poetry in a lone bookcase.

The room was modest in size, enough for one or two people to dance in comfortably in tandem and lit by an adjustable switch to set the right mood. One wall was lined with full body mirrors for her own self reflection and critique, the other bare with one or two chairs and an old record player..

This was her safe place, somewhere she could reflect and relax; a room to be whoever she wanted. Some days she pictured that she was an established ballerina still performing in Russia, other days she imagined herself as a princess dancing amongst dashing strangers and beautiful aristocrats.

Even now she could feel herself start to nod off into her imagin-

“Anya? Hellooooo? Earth to the grand duchess!”

She made two mistakes when constructing this room, telling Vadim how to find it and not making it sound proof.

With a sigh she turned off the lights and opened the passage back into the stairwell, smirking at the sight of her brother on the other side.

“You realize the food is on the table, right?” Her nose scrunched at his scoff.

“Well that’s all well and good, but I was under the impression I’d be dining with my sister. The one who made the meal?” He flicked her cheek and threw his arm over her shoulder, guiding her back upstairs.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been a bit spacey since I got back, Ethan was arrested..” At her comment, Vadim’s head shot up in confusion, “Murder, evidently.”

“Bychit! You’re messing with me aren’t you?” Anya smiled wanly at his disbelief, “Well shit, you’re not...shit well- who’s the victim?”

“Philip Purcell.”

“The Candyman professor? Well I’ll be damned, Ethan’s dad used to mention him when he’d come to the bar. Something about the old codger not believing the myth after he told him to say the name five times in a mirror or something like that.”

“What, like Bloody Mary?” Anya chuckled as she dug into her meal.

“Sort of a Bloody Mary vibe with Phantom of the Opera thrown into the mix,” Anya stopped mid chew to look up in confusion as he continued, “I read Purcell’s book, Candyman was originally an artist named Daniel Robitaille who fell in love with a white woman from Southern society. After they were found out he was chased down and tortured by an angry mob, sawed off his painter’s hand and smeared honey all over him before the bees came”

“Jesus..” Anya put her hand over her mouth.

“You can guess what happened after that, surprised you haven’t heard the tale.”

“I know what Candyman is, I just never really knew anything about the man behind the myth.” She shrugged.

“Coleman was obsessed with it, told me the story and gave me a copy of Purcell’s book to read up on. As far as I could tell Ethan’s been depressed, but murder?” He shook his head and took a bite of his biscuit.

“Well, I’ll be seeing Annie and Paul in the morning. Maybe they’ll have more info by then.” She stood up and collected her dishes. Vadim quirked his head.

“Day trip?”

“Not exactly, Annie thinks there might be some clues back at the old Tarrant estate. You know, where they- where they found Coleman?” She hesitated and looked at Vadim, “The shrine.”

“Mm, spooky.” Vadim shivered, “Gonna leave the big bad boogeyman an offering?” He chuckled.

Anya stopped at the sink and hummed thoughtfully.

“You know? I just might.”

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