#hopefully this will look neater :)!!!

[miss-floral-thief]

messy but the new palette looks ok

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + twenty

authors note: consider this a part one. splitting it into two because way too much would be happening in one chapter if i stuffed it.

cw/tw: angst, some fluff, characters discussing mental health, brief discussion of past suicide attempt

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 5k

“Look, daddy!���

Though the call was directed to Roman, Solana can’t help but also look up, ensuring she keeps her hands on her wiggly baby boy. He’s at the point in his development where he wants to explore anything and everything, and the last thing she wants is her son getting into something while they’re on their trip. 

Roman’s gaze, however, is solely focused on the twins who are a few feet away looking over at him with the biggest, proudest smile on their faces. They’ve each created two pretty impressive yet different sandcastles, one finished, the other still a bit of a work in progress. 

It’s interesting to both parents that right off the bat they know who made what. The twin who has taken after Solana and her artistic abilities having a castle that’s a bit more intricate, neater and most likely to survive longer.

“They’re nice,” Roman compliments, a small smile on his face. “Can I take a picture?”

His question makes all the sense in the world. If there’s one thing Roman is going to do when it comes to his family, it’s snap a picture. Solana doesn’t even know just how much footage he has of their family. She just knows that it’s a lot. That’s for certain. His collection starts as far back as her first pregnancy with the twins to where they are today, spending some time in Isla Mujeres for a brief, family vacation.

Not that Solana has any complaints. She loves that all of these moments have been captured either via photography or videography. Keepsakes that withstand all of time.

However, their girls are clearly opposed to unfinished projects being captured on camera. “Daddy, no. We gotta finish first!”

Roman chuckles, unsurprised that the twin most like him is the one to protest. “Just let me know when you’re ready.”

They don’t respond, but he’s certain that they heard him.

He and Solana redirect their attention to their son who’s sitting between Solana’s open legs, grabbing and banging one of his toys against the towel underneath them. It’s accompanied with his babbling, no doubt his way of expressing his desire to be freed.

Solana giggles, looking over at Roman with a tiny smirk. “The older he gets, the more I see of you in him.”

It’s true. Not even in just looks. All of the kids look like Roman to her, but especially their baby. His father’s looks, his father’s size, and even his short temper too. 

Roman, however, wears a grim expression.“ Hopefully not too much.”

The delivery. The almost frown on his face. The quietness. All of it causes the smile on her face to dip a bit, Solana instantly knowing what’s happening. What he’s not saying. 

“Here.” Lifting up her chunky nine-month-old and handing him over to Roman, Solana’s previous joy returns just a little at seeing the natural smile fall on father and son’s face, the younger making his happiness at being held by his favorite parent obvious in the babbling that grows louder.

Shaking her head, Solana reaches for her phone in her Louis Vuitton beach tote. “You better not tell them I showed you this. They don’t want you to know until it’s done.” Solana warns, swiping until she lands on the desired photo. Scooting closer to him, she reaches him her phone. “Look.”

Roman easily switches their son���s position so he’s sitting on his thigh, one strong forearm wrapped around him, securing him to his chiseled body. He takes the phone, and when his eyes land on the photo, Solana starts explaining. “They’re working on a project in school on who they look up to the most. Their hero.” Roman’s shocked gaze falls back on his gently smiling wife. “They both chose you.” Solana watches Roman closely. The brief flash of emotion in his eyes. The way he smiles. All of the nonverbals that point to him being moved by this. “Why do you think that is, Ro?”

She doesn’t wait for him to respond. “Because they love you. Because you are their hero. Because you’re the best dad they could have ever asked for.” Some of Solana’s words of encouragement are ripped directly from the brief paper that accompanies the drawing of the girls and Roman they’ve created for the project. The drawing that he’s looking at now on her phone.

“You’re amazing with them. You’re amazing with him.” She chews down on her lip, eyes twinkling with excitement. “And you’re gonna be just as amazing with the next.”

Roman’s gaze snaps over to her, eyes filled with shock and curiosity. “Are you…..”

Nodding with a big smile on her face, she lightly teases, “you always did say you could never say no to me.”

Roman scoffs, clearly in a slight state of disbelief. To all of it. “How far along are you?”

Solana brings her hand to her belly, answering proudly, “almost eight weeks.” 

A small smile falls on his face, and right away,  Solana knows. Knows that he’s just as happy and as thrilled as she is. This is just his subtle way of expressing it. “You weren’t kidding when you said you wanted more kids, huh?”

Rolling her pretty eyes, she uses her other hand to playfully flick his shoulder. “You weren’t exactly opposed to the process.”

“Never that.” Shaking her head, she reaches over to tickle her baby’s belly, allowing their soon to be second youngest to play with her finger as the announcement continues to settle in with Roman. “Damn, we’re really having another baby?”

She shrugs, voice so nonchalant as she hints at something else. “Or two…..”

“Christ, Sol.” She giggles at the way his eyes widen ever so slightly. “Are you serious?” Roman sitting up more and adjusting their son so he doesn’t fall over progresses her giggles to full on laughter. “Solana, is it really twins again?”

Calming down, she offers in a still amused voice, “I can show you the sonogram when we get back to the house.”

“Holy—” His reaction is really something she wishes she caught on camera. “How?”

Shaking her head, she throws back at him with a small smirk, “you’re the one who always said you’re good at a lot of things. I guess we should add making twins to the list.”

While there’s humor in her voice, Solana is more than certain Roman doesn’t find comedy in the repeat. He’s happy, yes, but most definitely still astounded. “Another set of twins….” Shaking his head, he starts off with an almost sympathetic voice. “Baby, I love you. You know I do. But, I’m getting a vasectomy after this.” Solana rolls her eyes, though a part of  her wonders how serious he’s being. “Sol, we’re about to have five damn kids. That’s enough. You’re not about to have me out here, fifty-years-old, with a newborn.”

Taking her son from him who starts hitting at her chest, a sign he is ready for a nap, Solana offers a compromise. “We’ll discuss it more later.”

“Yeah, alright.” His fake irritated tone shifts to something else as he nods to the girls who are still laughing and giggling with each other while finishing up their sandcastles. “When you want to tell them?”

It’s a good question she thought of the minute the doctor confirmed her pregnancy. “When we get back home. Let them have this.” While the twins now love their baby brother just as much as they love each other, their initial reaction to the pregnancy was not….the easiest. And Solana doesn’t even want to think about how they might respond to finding out they’re no longer going to be the only twins in the house.

She’d prefer to push off whatever that looks like for later. Just wants to enjoy the now.

“Mommy.”

Solana is startled by the sudden presence of her girls. She never even heard them walk over. “Yes, baby?”

“You’re gonna protect us, right?”

Eyes crinkling with confusion, Solana adjusts her baby boy, lightly patting his back. “What–what do you mean, honey?”

Her oldest eyes watering only sets Solana off even more, as she looks to Roman for some assistance only to see he’s no longer there.

He’s gone.

Solana’s stomach drops as she turns her head, looking to see where he’s gone when her daughter moves a hand to the baby’s back. “You’re gonna have to fight for us.”

Solana is beyond confused right now. About it all. “I don’t—”

“Daddy’s not gonna be there. You have to do it, mama.” The quieter of the two taking a turn to speak, voice almost desperate and emotional only exacerbates the situation. Solana feels her own tears forming when her daughter reaches out her little hand, placing it on her shoulder. “And you can’t trust them.”

That’s when Solana really stills. Looking between the two who wear such troubled expressions, she asks, “trust who?”

With a loud, violent gasp, Solana shoots up from the bed. Breathing erratic, forehead covered in a light sheen of sweat, heart practically beating out of her chest.

It takes a couple of seconds for her to completely come to. She has no idea where that came from. She’s been having dreams over the past couple weeks of a future with Roman, an almost storyline that plays out and typically lulls and keeps her asleep.

But, not tonight.

Tonight, she can’t figure out just what the hell that dream means. If it means anything. A part of her wonders if it has to do with Roman’s text from Friday night and the fact that she hasn’t heard from him since then. Not a text. Not a call. Not a FaceTime. 

It’s been almost three days.

A part of her is worried, but another part of her knows it’s because he’s working. The last thing he probably has time for is to entertain her. And even more, she told him not to worry about her. That she’d be okay. And, she is. She’s just worried about him.

As per usual.

Leaning over, she hits the lamp switch on her bed and grabs her phone, hoping to find a text or notification from him. But, when she presses the side button, all she sees is her lock screen. A photo of them taken on her birthday. She’s sitting on his lap, arms around his neck, the happiest of smiles on her face as she looks directly at the camera, while he’s simply staring at her with such adoration and care.

It makes her heart heavy. An emptiness she’s felt more profoundly in the past few days. 

As much as Solana wants to text him, she won’t. She won’t because she knows that he’ll only think something is wrong and might even try to inconvenience himself by coming back home when he really doesn’t have to. He’ll make it about her when all she wants is to see about him.

Placing her phone back on the nightstand, she swaps it out for her journal, flipping to a blank page. Solana uses the pen attached and starts writing in a way she hasn’t done in some time.

Too long.

Dear Mom,

I can’t remember the last time I wrote to you, and I’m so sorry for that. A lot has happened. Some things I know you’d be proud of me for. Others, not so much. 

I know the truth now, mama. I know that you’re gone because he wanted you gone. Wanted us gone. And to be honest with you, a part of me feels bad. He only did it because you were trying to escape with me and Wes. Because I always asked you why we couldn’t just run away. Not knowing if my constant asking was a part of why you did it will always haunt me. And if so, I’m sorry, mama. I’m so so sorry.

But, there’s something I need to tell you. A lot, actually. But, I’ll space it out for different letters. The most important thing though is that I’m in love. I never ever thought it could and would happen for me, but it did, and while the past few weeks have been rough, what hasn’t changed is my love.

I love Roman. He’s the best thing to ever happen to me since I lost you. He’s kind and patient and takes such good care of me. And……

I finally had my first time, and he made it so special. He is special to me. 

I love him more than anything.

I wish you could have met him. I think you would have eventually grown to like him. He can be….a little rough around the edges, but it’s okay, because he’s mine.

My Ro.

—-------

This isn’t how Solana expected to spend her Sunday. Didn’t see it playing out like this, but one thing she’s been learning in therapy is the power of control. At the end of the day, she can control three things: what she thinks, how she feels, and what she does. Even when she doesn’t feel like it. Even when it seems impossible. 

And that’s why she makes the call to do something she still doesn’t feel 100% ready for while acknowledging that 100% isn’t exactly a realistic, attainable option anyway.

‘Do it scared’ 

That’s what Gail always says, and that’s what she’s doing.

She’s doing it scared.

“Solana.”

Looking up from her lap, the first thing she lands on is the bouquet of flowers that partially obscure an expected, loud colorful look from Naomi. Bayley is holding the large teddy bear that holds a box of chocolates with several greeting cards slipped within the attached ribbon.

The warmest smile sets on Solana’s face.

Untangling her legs from where she sits on the sofa in the visitors area, she walks over to them, the two women seemingly looking confused on how to respond, what to say or even do.

So, Solana takes the lead. Carefully taking first the flowers and then the teddy bear, she places them both down on the coffee table and opens her arms for a group hug.

Neither woman seems to protest. In fact, they both move to accept the kind gesture with so much force that Solana loses her balance for a second. But, it’s when she gathers herself, she fully relishes in the innocent embrace. 

Her eyes naturally shut at being so warmly greeted with two people who started out as strangers but have easily turned into family. 

“It’s so good to see you,” Naomi murmurs against her, holding her just as tight as she’s holding them.

Bayley follows with an emotional, “we’ve been so worried about you.”

Solana sniffles, the tears pooling as she pulls back and looks between the two of them. “I’m so sorry I did that to you guys. I—I didn’t—”

“Solana, we’re sorry, we didn’t do enough to let you know how loved you are and how much you mean to us—” Naomi also gets choked up, shaking her head and fanning her face. “Damn, I knew I shouldn’t have worn this glitter eyeshadow.”

Solana laughs and wipes her eyes. Bayley shakes her head and takes Solana’s hand. “We’re here for you, Solana. Always.” 

Nodding, she leads them both to sit on the sofa with her, again going back to her initial statement. “I know….I know you guys probably feel like I don’t need to say this, but I do want to say how sorry I am for….for putting you through that.” She knows what she’s been through on her end as being the person to survive the attempt, but there’s also another trauma that’s created for the people unlucky enough to witness that.

And those people are Naomi and Bayley. Solana doesn’t even want to think about how terrifying that must have been for them.

Naomi, however, is the one to speak first. “You know how this life is. We see a lot. We’ve seen a lot, but that…..that was rough.”

Bayley nods, swallowing. “And not being able to see and speak to you….and Roman wasn’t the most helpful.”

That’s not surprising, though a bit discouraging. Solana knows he blames them. Feels like they failed to watch her, and while it’s on her list to talk to him about it, to try to get him to eventually let it go, to forgive them, that’s not the priority right now.

They are.

She shakes her head, explaining, “I wanted….wanted to make sure I was in a better place before you guys spoke to me again. Before….before you saw me again.”

Because the last time they saw her, she was unconscious, being wheeled out on a stretcher after almost ODing. The least Solana could do was spare them any additional unnecessary trauma.

“Are…..are you better?” Naomi is the one to ask, trepidation laced in her voice. “I mean, I know you’re here, but—”

“I am,” Solana answers in a strong voice. “I’m here, but I just….I wanted to extend my treatment because I didn't feel ready to come home just yet, but everyday I’m here, I feel myself getting stronger. I’m….I’m going to be so much better.”

Bayley reaches a comforting hand on Solana’s knee. “You even look better, Solana.” Her smile is watery as she again affirms, “we’re just happy you’re okay.”

Me too.

Solana sniffles and wipes her eyes. She then directs her attention to the gifts. “What is all of this?”

Naomi makes a sound, a squeal almost. “You know we couldn’t come see our sis empty handed.” She then rolls her eyes, pulling out two of the cards attached to the box of candy. “Jimmy and Jey asked us to give you these. They’re mad we ain’t bring them with us.”

At that, Solana’s smile drops. “They’re not with Roman?”

Naomi is visibly confused. “What do you mean?”

Solana, also confused, shifts in her seat. “Roman text me Friday night that he had to go out of town for a work situation. I guess….I thought he’d take them with him.” Knowing that Roman doesn’t have his two right hand men with him makes Solana a bit more nervous about not hearing from him, and it must show.

“Hey.” Bayley offers a reassuring smile. “This is your husband we’re talking about. Roman’s got whatever it is. If he didn’t, he would have taken the twins with him. I’m sure of it.”

“I agree,” Naomi nods, also flashing a comforting smile. “Don’t worry, okay?”

Much easier said than done, but for the sake of not wanting to sulk or spiral, Solana makes herself focus on the conversation at hand. Taking the envelopes, she opens the first one. 

It’s from Jey.

Sis,

Been praying for you and shit. Hope you doing alright, and we can’t wait till you get home. Big Dog been mean as hell with you gone. Please come save us.

Just messing with ya…..kind of.

Love you,

Jey

YEET!

His card makes her smile, laugh, and cry all in the same breath. Sniffling, she puts it back in the envelope and goes to open the next one from Jimmy, only for her, Bayley, and Naomi to jump as music starts to play. 

It’s a musical card.

I'm a survivor

I'm not gon' give up

I'm not gon' stop

I'm gon' work harder

I'm a survivor

I'm gonna make it

I will survive

Keep on survivin'

Solana slaps the card closed as no one says a thing. Both Bayley and Naomi have their hands over their mouths in complete and utter shock, Bayley being the first to speak as she slaps Naomi on the arm.

“Why would you let him get that!”

“Girl, I didn't know! His ass always ordering shit off Amazon. I thought it was a regular card!” She turns toward Solana, eyes extremely apologetic. “Solana, I am so—”

But before she can finish, Solana literally falls back against the sofa, hand also over her mouth to hold back the abundance of laughter coursing through her body. It takes everything in her to manage to speak through her fit of giggles, “you guys, it’s okay. It’s….it’s actually pretty funny.”

Because it is. It’s so Jimmy. And she knows he means no harm, that he’s probably one of the funniest, sweetest men she’s ever come across.

Even if he does seem to be able to not read the room from time to time.

Blotting the tears away from crying so hard, Solana opens the card again and starts to read, ignoring the music that’s playing.

Lil sis,

Really been missing you. Roman been miserable without you too. Ole grumpy ass even meaner than usual. He ain’t even let us come over not one time! You gotta come get your man, sis.

Naw, but in all seriousness, I miss your lil ass and really been sending you all the positive thoughts and prayers. Can’t wait till you come home.

PS) What’s the first meal back gon be?

Love,

Jimmy

Finishing the both hilarious and heartfelt message, Solana is happy to see Bayley and Naomi also displaying slightly amused expressions. Giggling, she closes the card again, silencing the music. “I told you it was kind of funny.”

“I’m still going to talk to his slow ass.”

“I told you he’s challenged.”

Solana shakes her head, reaching for their hands, squeezing gently. “I really have missed you guys.” And that’s such the goddamn truth. Despite her reservations and feeling not ready to see them, she’s so happy she pushed past all of that. 

In some sort of way, she feels like she needed this. Needed to see and speak to them again.

Needed to be around her sisters.

—-----------

Later that evening, as Solana is sitting in her room, working on a sketch she’s been playing around with since her birthday trip, her phone rings. 

She halfheartedly switches her attention to the phone, expecting maybe Bayley or Naomi. But, that’s not who it is.

It’s almost embarrassing to Solana how quickly she drops her pencil and snatches her phone, pressing the green button with unnecessary pressure. “Hello?”

Her voice is clearly as excited as she feels, because he chuckles, “hey.”

Her eyes shut, an instant relief washing over her. “Roman…..” She can’t explain how good it feels to hear his voice, to be able to talk to him. “Are you okay?” Her tone easily switches to concerned as she remembers it’s been almost three days since she last spoke to him. “Are you safe?”

“I’m fine, Sol.” She’d feel infinitely better if he was standing in front of her saying those comforting words, but he’s not, so she just has to take his word for it. “How are you?”

“Fine,” she answers without much thought, because it’s the truth. But, she also knows he needs more than that. “Bayley and Naomi came to visit me this afternoon.”

There’s a pause on the other end. A response she more or less expected. “How was it?”

Solana leans back against the headrest. “It was…..it was nice. Needed. I—I missed them.”

She can practically picture the way he turns his head and strokes his beard, as he forces out a, “if that’s what you want.”

Solana sighs. “Roman, I—I know you still blame them.”

“And, I always will.” She swallows, hating the determination in his voice. Like nothing she says will change his mind. “You can’t fault me for that.”

She can, and she can’t. She has no right to dictate how Roman feels about what happened. That’s not in her circle of control. She just wishes he didn’t have such misplaced and displaced anger. Bayley and Naomi did everything they could. They had no idea about her past struggles with suicide. That she’d attempted before, and even if they had, Solana has realized through some heavy discussions and processing in therapy that even if they tried to intervene, she still would have found a way.

She would have found some type of way to try to kill herself that night.

But, she doesn’t want to drop that on Roman, not when she knows he’s already had a lot on his mind the past few days.

“How are you feeling?” She decides to change subjects, not wanting them to spend too much time on something that’s clearly going to take a while. “You sound less….distracted.” It’s the best word that she can come up with, Solana just now recognizing that while he still sounds like he’s carrying a heavy load, it’s a load that’s maybe gotten a little lighter.

“Yeah.” His answer is awkward, distant almost. “Been….been trying to clear my head.”

She doesn’t know what exact that means or how it works when he’s in the midst of working, but if it’s helped in some weird sort of way, and it sounds like it has, she won’t push or question it. She wants desperately to ask him about who he took with him, if he ran into any trouble, if he’s scratched up at all. Essentially, all the questions to make sure he’s not physically hurt, but she also doesn't want to bombard him. Doesn’t want to do anything to take away from the almost softness of this moment. 

“Good,” she finally responds, wondering where the next thing out of her mouth comes from, because it’s certainly something she didn’t plan or anticipate. “Roman, when you—when you come visit again, can we—can we try—I mean—the doors don’t lock, but—” She hates all the stammering and stuttering, but it’s so hard to ask this when she can’t see his expression, see if he’s looking disinterested or annoyed or anything. It’s definitely something that would be better served discussed in person, and she’s annoyed that she even brought it up like this. “You know what, never mind, just—”

“Solana,” his deep voice cuts in with a chuckle that knocks her anxiety down a level or two. “Yes, if you want to.”

“I do.” There’s an almost desperation to her quick reply. A bit of embarrassment fills her and reddens her cheeks as she explains, “I know last time, I—well, you know, but this time, I’m—I’m good.”

And she knows this because in the past few days especially she’s found herself thinking about him, wanting him, almost needing him in that way. So much so that just this evening the longing was so prominent that her hand wound its way between her legs, fulfilling something Roman had once tasked her with.

But, she most definitely cannot tell him that over the phone.

Or ever.

“As long as you’re good, Sol.” The sincerity in his voice makes her smile, Solana wishing deeply she could be snuggled against his strong, protective chest right now. “You know that’s never something I’ll turn you down for. Ever”

Giggling, her voice softens as she turns to lay on her side. “Tell me something.”

“Like?”

She shrugs and remembers that he can’t see her. “Anything. I—” With an almost tenderness, she admits, “I missed the sound of your voice.”

It’s almost embarrassing to admit as such, especially as it’s barely been three days since they last spoke, but it’s just how she feels.

And Solana feels a bit better about her vulnerable admission when he shares in an equally low voice. “I miss you.”

There’s something about his tone. About his delivery. She knows he’s not referring to this work trip. He’s referring to her overall hospitalizations.

To all of it. 

“I’ll be home in a month,” she whispers. It feels like so much longer though. For him, just as much as her, she’d bet. But, it’s all she’s got. “And then I’m not going anywhere ever again.” It’s an oath to both him and herself. “I promise.”

“Good.” It sounds like there’s more he wants to say, so much more. But, he doesn’t. And while she wonders why. Again, she doesn’t push it. Doesn’t push him. Just enjoys finally being able to speak to him, to hear his voice and know that he’s okay.

Solana stays on the phone for a good almost hour when exhaustion betrays her in the form of an escapee yawn. Roman chuckles on the other end. “It’s late. You should get some rest.”

“I’m fine,” she responds. “When will you be back here?”

“I head back tomorrow morning.” She wants to ask just where he is but decides against it. “Still want me to visit next weekend?”

“Of course.” That feels like a no brainer. “I always want to see you.” She exhales and shifts in the bed, feeling the sleep that she’s now realizing she was pushing back just to speak to him. “Maybe I will try to get some rest.” She has an early morning individual therapy session with Gail tomorrow, and they’re supposed to do some more trauma work, so she really should try to get a good night's rest.

“Good.” He genuinely sounds pleased at that. “I’ll text you when I make it back to the house.”

“Good,” she repeats with a small smile. “Goodnight, Roman.”

He seems to hesitate on the other end, an almost uncharacteristic emotion in his tone that she can’t really identify. “Night, Solana.” 

Her stomach flutters with all the butterflies that are typical whenever she’s around, with or even speaking to this man who has changed her life in so many ways. Grabbing the phone, Solana taps the end button and places her phone on the nightstand, feeling an overwhelming sense of peace and comfort. 

She moves to put away her sketchbook when a sound makes her jump a little. Looking to her left, she realizes she somehow didn’t hang up the phone and that the call is still going. Chuckling to herself, as well as the surprise that Roman also somehow missed that too, she reaches to actually and effectively end the call.

But, her stomach drops when she hears a voice. A voice that doesn’t belong to Roman.

“Was that your wife?” It’s a woman. That much is obvious, and while her tone is neither friendly nor cruel, it makes no difference because Solana is far too focused on the next thing that comes out of her mouth. “Where does she think you are anyway?”

Crushing. 

Debilitating. Suffocating. Inconceivable. The words barely touch the surface of what Solana is feeling in this moment. Feelings that are only intensified by Roman’s response.

With a quiet chuckle, he answers, almost bitterly, “working.”

The woman on the other end makes a sound that’s similar yet different from a scoff. “Don’t you think it’s time to tell her the truth? You really want to keep lyin—”

Enough.

Solana has heard enough. Reaching for the phone, she jabs her finger against the red end button and tosses it back on the bed. It’s only then she realizes that her hand is trembling, that her entire body is shaking, her breathing is uneven, and her eyes are watering.

Feeling what’s about to happen, she places her hand over her heart and closes her eyes, trying to find the safest place in her body. The anchor within her, the place that can settle or at least manage her anxiety enough so she doesn’t end up having a panic attack. It’s a longshot, but it works. Solana eventually calms down enough to where that tightness in her chest is no longer present.

But, that’s only the panic being pushed away. The hurt, oh the hurt is still there. Blaring, raging, burning pain that’s more excruciating than anything she’s felt in a long time.

He lied.

Roman lied to her. 

He’s not working.

He’s with another woman.

He’s cheating on her.

And reading in between the lines, it’s not the first time, he’s been cheating on her. Been lying to her. 

Solana’s head is racing, revisiting every moment and interaction with him.

Roman had told her from the beginning. Told her that he could and would never care about her. That she’d be nothing more than a business transaction, but she….she thought that things had changed. That they’d changed. 

That he’d changed. 

Clearly, that’s not the case, and maybe, just maybe, she should have believed him the first time around.

[seraphinitegames]

The Wayhaven Chronicles - Update 05/April/2024

A really successful week this week!

After some suggestions about multiple choices on the same screen from a few amazing patrons, I looked into how to do that and if it would work for the character creation.

And it really has! I could cry it feels like there’s finally a solution, lol! :D

It does mean I had to completely start over, but with how it looks now, I think I have found how I want it to be for all the future books. It means I should just be able to copy everything I’m doing to the next book’s character creation screen and then just add the last book’s stats. That’s going to save SO much time in the future!

Starting over also meant I could put in the new body part selection choice for those who want to specify, though there is also the option to pass it. It was a selection suggested by one of my sensitivity readers to help hopefully make intimate scenes much easier to write, as well as much clearer to read for everyone!

That selection will pop up in the actual narrative for those that import characters, so you’ll still have that choice if you want to specify it for your character, but it means for people creating characters they can go into the story already that choice in place for the intimate scenes (if you want the detailed scenes).

Here’s a glimpse at what the character creator screens are looking like now:

So much cleaner and neater, as well as a WHOLE lot quicker! I’m just not sure how it will pop up on phones yet—hoping not too much scrolling!

The character creation is the last thing I need to finish before the demo section can finally go to the editor and first readers. It’s been worth the time to get it finally sorted though, especially as it means it’s also already set for future books, and I don’t have to spend this much time on it again, or melt my brain with figuring out coding, lol! :D

I’m not keen on the ‘Select a’ bit, but that’s how it shows up automatically, so I’m doing my best to work around that.

So yeah, it was so nice to finally get somewhere on this character creator after so many different tries. I really hope it’ll be so, so much quicker and easier for not just you guys to go through but also me and my readers for testing, hehe!

Hope you all have the most amazing weekend! I’m going to be working this weekend to get this completely finished so the demo section can go to the editor next week, but will be offline as usual, so I'll update you all again next week! <3

[goldenchocobo]

I thought I'd map out the visual differences I give Roxas and Ventus when I draw them (and continue to). I did try and write super neatly and clearly, hopefully it's legible! Any spelling errors is dyslexia.

Most are personal preferences, head cannons- the like, but when looking at the models for both characters, there are some differences- not as much as seen here. But for instance- the 'messier/neater' hair thing is kind of true- I know it's because of the limitations of the PSP vs PS2, but I thought it was neat.

The left-handed and ambidextrous-ness of them both is something I would like to incorporate in the future. In KHIIFM's ending, Ven is left-handed, and I think it'd be neat to continue to show. As for Roxas- well; he's famous for wielding two keyblades, so it seems natural.

I really want these two to be friends in the future- but not friends right away; Roxas has just gotten over an identity crisis, this is a whole new one for him.

Do not tag as ship, please

[deadbeat-motel]

ᕼᑌᔕK ᗩᑎᗪ ᑎIᖴᖴTY ᖇEᗪEᔕIGᑎ

Deadbeat father with his baby-leashed daughter.

I believe these are the last of the designs that will try to follow the original design as best as it can because looking at my sketches right now, Alastor, Cherri Bomb, and Pentious (and Crymini) goes a different direction than their counterparts.

You know how this works, thoughts below:

My issues with their Original designs:

Niffty:

Man, I only have two things to critique about this one since she's also a solid design:

What is the purpose of the scarf? It comes out of nowhere for the design, what is the connection/purpose of having it? Genuinely asking since it does bother me a bit.

She barely is a bug, there is no feature in the design that gives us any idea that she might be a bug (Or even an alien since apparently Cyclops are just a normal sinner type in this hell). Looking at the Wiki, I think the only reason for the alien aspect is that it came from a song? Either way, she doesn't showcase any of either in her design.

Husk:

GOD THE WINGS. DEAR GOD THE WINGS. IT'S SO UGLY AND CLUTTERED AND THE PATTERNS BARELY MAKE ANY SENSE. It's so awful ewwww. Every scene that didn't have them closed looked extremely rushed and ugly. It could've benefitted from just copying how actual feathered wing patterns naturally are.

His eyebrows are not a problem for me (It's my favourite part of him) but the unnecessary two black stripes are.

He's probably supposed to be a tuxedo cat, but he legitamately looks like the cat in the hat with his entire face being white.

The thought process for these two:

Niffty:

Personally was not into the whole Cyclops thing, especially when there are no hellborns (that I can recall at least) in Helluva Boss that posess a singular eye. She's got 2 eyes now because.... reasons.

The mismatched eyes was my solution to removing the Cyclops sinners of this world. Plus it's a neat little character detail that her insecurity of some kind of eye defect manifests as this odd eye shape.

Her hair is a bit neater because as much as I enjoyed how her original hair looks, It's kind of silly to think a person who's obsessed with cleanliness would have such an unkempt haircut? (Specifically talking about that scene kid-esque bangs she has.)

While I kept the maid aspect with her clothes, I made it a lot more flowery so that it reads more like a child's outfit mimicing a maid's.

I gave her one fucked up antennae since in the rewrite ill be doing, she's very easily lost and thus became homeless, drifting to any place that would allow her to stay for a little while long until they kick her out.

Bug wings and the spurs on her arms and legs are just to sell the bug aspect a bit more.

Hopefully, it was clear enough. But her arms are made of two arms conjoined together to create a singular arm.

Admittedly, I did not choose a specific bug for Niffty. Insects are not something I'm interested in and I got lazy with this aspect.

Husk:

MADE HIM A LOT FATTER AHAHAHAHHA. Husk feels like he could've ended up as a bara if Vivzie's twinkif-y ray didn't hit him.

Specific fluff areas as well as a red mustache make him look older and do more to make you understand he's much more aged than the rest of the cast.

Genuinely enjoyed the hair that they gave Husk in his flashback, it looked handsome on him. Why Vivzie didn't put that in his actual redesign is beyond me, but here it is on him now

Since his wings barely play any role in the story, I shrunk it and de-cluttered the poor thing.

The red suspenders are there to simply put a pop of color on his already muted colors.

Despite the running joke that Vivzie's characters all have a bowtie, kept it on Husk since I think it would be cute that he probably keeps it on because Niffty made it herself for him.

This is just personal, but I wanted to give him an actual cat's pattern because I saw Husk from the headcanon voices video and thought that he was a sloth for some reason.

[justevelynnnn]

“Mustard & Ketchup”

Summary: you’re a runaway mutant and you need a place to stay. you find one but is it worth the chaos?

Warnings: mentions of blood and knives, profanity, written with fem!reader in mind but could be gender neutral or male iyw

A/N: This has been in my drafts for weeks so I gotta get it out before the dust collects on it💀 not really proofread tbh..

You stared at the paper in you hand titled in big letters “Roomate needed” and sighed.

You were a mutant who couch surfed after running away from home. Cue typical tragic backstory stuff. Anyways, the last person found out what you were and you had to bounce. Now you needed a place to stay for cheap and quick. You had a job at some bar (that was a secret mutant friendly space) but it couldn’t really pay bills, let alone rent.

So after work one day, when you saw a roommate need flyer you grabbed it immediately. Under the title was an odd drawing of a ketchup bottle and a mustard bottle done in crayon with some red guy in the corner waving. Then under that was the following(also in crayon) : roomate needed asap. rent’s under $300. must be ok with dogs, blind old people, claws and blood. (Like lots of blood)

You sighed. It’s been a week on streets and sleeping on cold benches and that rent was enticing. Whoever made the flyer though was definitely either a child or someone extremely questionable but you definitely weren’t in any spot to be picky right now. Even though you were slightly turned away by the emphasis of “being ok with blood” (what the hell could that even mean!?!) Maybe you can save up while there and hopefully move out soon.

The address was at the bottom of the paper so you decided you’ll stop by in the morning.

The apartment actually wasn’t too far from the bar and the bench you claimed for the week was close to the bar also so after doing a quick freshing up in the bar bathroom you made your way to the apartment. It was decent enough…nothing shady..but nothing special either. The second you got to the door you heard screaming and a dog barking. Was this really the place?

Just when you were about to turn around and rethink this whole thing the door flung open. You gasped as a man with….spotted skin?? stood at the door with a knife stuck in the side of his head. He was bald and actually kinda tall? Notably, he also wore pink boxers paired with a my little pony shirt. No socks. Very odd sight to see and take in.

“Sorry, I think I have the wrong-“ you started but the man looked down at you holding the flyer and immediately exclaimed, “Oh! Logan! Someone’s seen one of the flyers I made! Oh, do come on in we were just having a friendly fight…”

All you could muster was, “Friendly?” As you glanced at the knife and blood in his shirt. Distracted, he successfully ushered you in the door as you were soon met with a small, old looking dog with its tongue hanging out. It barked at you and you jumped slightly.

“Oh, don’t mind her…he’s as sweet as pie. Well, maybe some really old and hairy pie but still sweet regardless.” The man said as he closed the door. “I’m Wade by the way.”

You smiled at the dog but soon turned to protest being in the apartment. It was quite the scene. You knew it was at least more than one person living here, not only because you heard arguing before the door opened but because of all the stuff. I mean, no way this was all him? Right?

“Hey, so, you know what…I dunno about all this…I mean..wow..” You looked around and soon noticed more blood, clothes everywhere, multiple bottles of alcohol , definitely a lot of knifes and..swords..? Half lit cigars? And why does the couch have 3 large claw marks in them? Surely, it couldn’t have been this dog.

Was that stuffed unicorn?

Wade noticed you concerned and sighed.

“You know this place was a lot neater a week ago, but let’s just say I recently adopted an alcohol addicted wolverine so everything has gone to shit. I mean, look at my head!” The man dramatically pointed to the knife. “He did this!”

You just laughed and backed up. Okay, now it’s time to really get the hell out. Of course, before you could move or even reply, soon entered another character. You watched a gruff, also taller but older looking man walk out. He was, too, covered with splats of blood.

“Speak of the devil. Hey, you got an apology yet, wolvie? Hm? Go on.” Wade crossed his arms and glared at the other man but the man just stared at you in confusion.

“Wade, who the fuck is this?”

Oh, this was awkward.

“I told you, someone saw our flyer! You never listen! Y’know, I’m starting to want a divorce!”

“Our flyer??”

“Well, I told you I was making one! Again, you don’t listen! You’re not being very mindful or demure right now!”

“What??????” Cue a head tilt which you found sightly amusing. “What the fuck are you talking about-….”

You decided to interrupt. “Um..yeah so if it’s gonna be a problem I can go….”

You started moving towards the door but Wade stopped you and said, “Oh, no no no..don’t let this meanie beanie weenie scare you away. This monster. This..this drunk!” Wade glared at him as the man rolled his eyes and looked away. “You’re welcomed to the family as of right freaking now!.”

The older man sighed and silently cursed as Wade sat you on the couch.

“Well, I don’t have anything other than this paper I guess..oh and my wallet and phone.” You decided you should also tell them the biggest secret you normally keep from others. That you were a mutant. Luckily for you, it was more hidden but it scared the hell out of the last person you stayed with so you wanted to get it out the way now. “Um…I should have you know, since my other folks didn’t like that i suprised them.. that I am a…y’know..”

You trailed off hoping he would get it but you quickly got your answer when Wade shouted, “A mutant!”

The old man glanced at you for a second as you fearfully watched their reactions but when the older man didn’t move and Wade hugged you,rather tightly also, you felt some relief.

“Me, too girlfriend…actually us two! It’s so nice to have another mutant friend. This whole thing is playing out just like my fan-fiction!”

“Us?” You asked ignoring the odd comment he made at the end.

“Means me.” The older man spoke up. “Name’s Logan.”

He waved once and walked up to Wade.

Logan asked Wade if he could speak alone and Wade told you to stay put as they went into another room. As you heard some back and forth going on you couldn’t help but wonder what mutations they could have. Maybe that explains Wades skin? And the fact he had a nice in his head, even now still, that didn’t seem to bother him. At first you just ruled him out as crazy but this makes sense too.

You were left alone for 5 minutes until Wade came back out.

“Okay, so, here’s the deal. Logan is being a big fat baby but I say you can stay on the account this is my place. We definitely need some extra hands around here so you can just stay on the couch. All the beds are taken right now unless you wanna share with me or Wolvie. And umm, do you already have a job?”

“Well, I work at the bar not to far from here…” You calmly replied.

Wade nodded “Great! Got another alcohol fan here, you’ll get along great with Mr. buns of steel in no time! He love alcohol, any kind, including the rubbing kind!”

Logan walked out the room again but immediately told Wade to “Shut the hell up.”.

“What?! It’s true! You do have buns of steel! And i literally saw you drink that rubbing alcohol-!”

Logan rolled his eyes again, sighing heavily as he grabbed a bottle of alcohol and sat in an armchair, turning on the tv.

You and Wade went over the rent, he mentioned the other resident, some older kind lady, and also explained when the trash comes. He kind of went over his lore and why he called a man a wolverine but it was all hard to follow.

“Wait, he’s an X-Man? Like comic book X-Man?” You said when Wade brought up Logan’s past.

“Oh, yes except it’s real in his universe and many others.. He’s actually the worst one but that’s just between you and me. However, he kinda makes up for it as he’s real good with those claws….” Wade winks but you can only tilt your head.

“God..-“ Logan grumbled as he finished the bottle. “Do you ever stop?”

“Not unless you beg for it.” Wade quickly replied but even quicker added, “No homo. Actually, full homo.”

Logan just stared in annoyance and focused back on the tv, shaking his head.

“Ok, well…why the ketchup and mustard on the flyer?”

“Oh, I just call us that. Cute little pet names.. yeah.. I’ll call him cutie patootie and he’ll call me a dumbass.” Wade sighed like he was reflecting on good times while Logan laughed out once. Wade soon adds, “I’m ketchup cause my suits red and I’m the more popular, more loved “condiment” anddd Logan is mustard because he can be more bitter and not as popular..I mean ask anyone reading this and most people would say they like ketchup more it’s a fact!”

Right after Wade finishes talking Logan throws a book at Wade’s head barking at him to shut up yet again.

“…We have fun here.”

“I see.” You looked around again at the chaos as Wade rubs his head and pouts at Logan. Wade asked if you could help clean this mess up. And any other future messes.. He said you could pay a bit less on rent if you did. You just agreed, having cleaned up worse at the bar.

You knew it was going to take some getting used to but you could make it work. On the bright side, you some what enjoyed Wade’s odd behavior. You wondered however, if Logan liked you but then again that didn’t matter either. You watched as the dog walked up to you, wanting to be picked up.

“Oh, look, it’s like she chose you! Like how beginning Pokémon chose their trainers…or, is it the other way around?”

You laughed as you picked up the dog.

“Well, thanks for letting me stay here.” You began petting the dog on your lap. “Don’t worry about me being here forever, I’m gonna try to save up and maybe give it take in 6 months I’ll be out your….um”

“Hair? Ha! It’s ok sweetheart, no offense. But you don’t have to worry about rushing out, I like you already and I’m sure Wolvie here does too right?”

Logan chugged the last bit of the bottle and just stared at Wade and you, sighing. With Logan’s face unreadable, Wade just laughed and said, “Give him time, most Wolverines start this way but they warm up in a few days at most a couple weeks….”

You just nodded like you understood and relaxed into the couch taking in your surroundings. Wade and Logan started to go back and forth again but you ended up tuning them out. Yup, this is your new life. Was it worth it?

You watched another knife fly in the air, barely missing you.

Maybe.

[emeritusemeritus]

No Good Deeds [George Weasley x Reader]

Part 1 2 3

Part 3

Title: No Good Deeds. Part 3.

Pairing: {George Weasley x Reader} mentions of previous Fred Weasley x Reader.

Timeline: Set a few years after DH, loosely following Canon.

Summary: A few years after Fred’s death, the investors of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes demand changes to the name. All it would take is two years of a fake marriage to fix the issues, but no good deed goes unpunished.

Warnings: Fake marriage trope because we love the cliché. Mentions of death (Fred). Friends to lovers. Slow burn but mentions of kissing and eventual smut. Swearing. George calls us Angel. Drinking. Angst, sadness, grief. Tags will be updated with each chapter.

This one got a little sad I’m sorry, I’m in my Freddie feels right now 🥀

Arriving at the shop, you noticed that Ron was still not here yet as the shop was in complete blackout except for the window lights which remained on at all times. You pulled out your wand and recited the unlocking spell that Fred had created and personalised, as well as the counter spell for the anti-alohamora charm he'd placed upon the building. You locked the door behind you with a flick of your wand and illuminated the store, making your way straight up to the office. The store looked good and tidy, though you did notice during your ascent up the stairs that there were a few stock items that needed replenishing, something you could do once you'd set up everything in the back.

Around half an hour later, Ron burst through the office door, calling for George and immediately froze upon seeing you sat there at his brother's desk.

"Oh, thought it was George this morning," he says, running his hand over the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed at barging in.

"He had some stuff to sort this morning, said I'd cover for him," you explained with a little shrug, grabbing the floats from the safe and the morning banking book.

"Oh right, yeah okay," Ron says, following behind you as you walk down the stairs. "Think he's got a secret girlfriend?"

Ron's words make you momentarily freeze, having not expected him to say that.

"Don't know Ronald," you said with another shrug and a smile, "but if Percy can get a girlfriend then George definitely can." Ron laughs with a nod and helped you set up the shop as you work together, laughing and joking like usual. He tries to pry into George's love life a little more, assuming that you know more than he does but you successfully manage to deflect his questions, hopefully without any suspicion.

You winced as the stones of your engagement ring caught the palm of your hand for the third time since you'd been restocking the shelves and looked down to see a little imprint of the outline cut into your hand. You sighed, checking around you to see where Ron was before walking up towards the office and turning left instead, towards the flat. Approaching the wooden door, you took a deep breath in and tried to gather your courage, suddenly feeling emotional and overwhelmed at returning to the flat you'd once known so well, dreading stepping through the door.

You huffed out a breathe and opened the handle, immediately greeted by the dark corridor that wrapped around the flat. You walked past the closet and then past what used to be Fred's bedroom, pausing only briefly to touch the doorframe as you felt your lip wobble, tears threatening your eyes. You shook them away and carried on walking towards George's room, looking for something specific that you knew he had, hoping he wouldn't mind you borrowing it.

You felt uncomfortable intruding like this, but it was the only solution you could think of. You stepped through the door and found the room to be much neater than you imagined, with only a few pieces of clothing and ties strewn on the floor in the otherwise rather tidy bedroom. You walked over to his dresser, seeing his leather watch box on top and raised the lid. Immediately you were met with a photo of you, George and Fred in your fifth year, building a snowman in the courtyard at Hogwarts. You all looked so young and happy, dressed in layer upon layer of warm clothes topped with coats and hats as you beamed at the camera, Fred's arm wrapped around you and George holding onto your shoulder, each one of you proud of the enchanted snowman you'd created. A tear leaked out of your eye and you bit your lip to try and prevent anymore from falling as you quickly wiped it away, unable to take your eyes of Fred's infectious smile. You placed the photo down onto the lid and reached to grab a silver chain that was beside the watch that his parents had given him for his 17th birthday, the same watch that sat beside an identical one in the box. You'd bought both of them a chain for their 17th birthday with a little engraved pendant attached that you had customised. The engraving was a 'w' sign with a little star at the top, the very same sign that would become the logo for the shop. Fred was buried in his chain, having never taken it off, but you noticed that George hadn't worn his much in the past few years, which you understood. You took out the chain and slipped the engagement ring through it before securing it around your neck and tucking it underneath your shirt. The last thing you wanted was to lose the ring and this was the only way you could keep it safe whilst you were at work, knowing you'd be panicking if it was in your pocket all day and you vowed to keep it at home tomorrow. You closed the lid of the watch box, casting one last glance at the photo before walking out of the flat and back down to the shop. Ron was none the wiser and you carried on restocking the love potions, no longer hurting from the ring, as Ron grabbed the skiving snackboxes in preparation for you opening the store.

You briefly thought of George as you wiped down the counter, wondering if the furniture had been delivered yet and what he was doing at home before a knock at the front door dragged you out of your musings. Verity had arrived for her shift and you let her in with a wave of your wand, greeting her before disappearing into the office for one last check over the inventory books before the shop opened.

"Morning stranger," you heard a voice say a little later as you deposited some cash into the safe. You turned around and saw George leaning on the door frame, arms crossed with a smirk on his lips, looking well rested and quite frankly, very handsome in his suit and burgundy shirt.

"Morning Georgie," you smiled, locking the safe and turning to face him completely.

"You ran off this morning," he teases, stepping forward to sit next to you on the desk, his long legs leaning beside you.

"I left a note," you countered in a mock-argument, giving him a wicked smile. He chuckles and nods, his eyes flicking over you.

"Did everything come okay? Didn't expect you in yet."

"All set up," he says with a nod before frowning gently, his mouth opening and closing twice before he says the next part, "look about last night, I'm sorry if-"

"Georgie," you said, moving to stand and place your hand on his chest to stop him. "I offered."

"Yeah not for me to sleep with-

"It's fine, actually it was nice to sleep beside someone again," you said honestly, the image of Fred's smiling face from the photograph filling your mind as you thought of the only person you'd ever shared a bed with. "Except for the snoring, that I could do without," you joked. He immediately grabbed you and pulled you into him as you let out a little squeal at the sensation of his beginning to tickle you.

"Snoring!?" He repeats with a shout, trying to look outraged but the grin on his face told you that he was far from angry. "How rude Mrs Weasley," he jokes, stopping the tickling but still keeping his hands on your waist. His eyes flick down to your left hand and his brows knit together momentarily as you follow his train of thought.

"Couldn't let Ron see it yet," you said as you both looked at your left ring finger, "I have to confess something though."

"Don't say you've lost it already," George says with a small, goading smirk which transforms into a laugh as you hit him on the chest for the little dig.

"No I haven't lost it," you say with a huff before reaching down into your shirt and pulling out the chain that sits around your neck, the ring hanging off of it like a pendant, knowing he'd recognise it instantly, "had to borrow this from you, is that okay? Please don't be mad, I tried to put the ring on my other hand but it kept digging in and it cut me and."

George immediately stops your babbling by pressing his lips to yours, a move that shocks you to your core as you stand there frozen, feeling his soft lips on yours. The kiss lasts no more than a few seconds but you can't help but stay perfectly still, more than surprised by his actions, your eyes slowly fluttering open after instinctively closing as he leaned in. George pulls away and looks at you with equal amounts of surprise, as if he couldn't believe what he'd just done too. His shocked expression drops from his face after a few moments as he draws in a breath before explaining, never taking his eyes off his chain around your neck.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't think of any other way to stop you rambling," he says with a small tilt of teasing in his voice before his gaze flicks up to look directly into your eyes, a soft look on his features. "I don't mind, looks good on you."

He strokes your arm as he pulls away and without any other words, he walks through the office door and down the stairs, leaving you utterly bamboozled as you stare at the spot where George had just been. George just kissed you. George Weasley had just kissed you.

The rest of the day was a bit of a blur, with paperwork and inventory checks needing your attention and taking up most of your time. You'd run into George a few times over the course of the day and each and every time you had felt his eyes on you before you even knew he was there. The look in his eyes was unfamiliar to you, like he was deep in thought or concentration but it only seemed to be when he caught sight of you which was strange. At one point he had winked at you as you walked through the store after grabbing some lunch for the both of you and it made you feel giddy and restless as there had seemed to be a shift in your dynamic since the kiss.

After your last inventory check was done and recorded in the files, you stepped out onto the shopfloor at 10 minutes before close to ask George about what he wanted for dinner tonight but you stopped short when you saw him laughing with an unfamiliar woman next to the till. They were stood pretty close together and she was laughing at something George was saying as he chuckled along, looking fairly animated in his reply. Your eyes rolled when you saw her laugh and reach out to touch his arm, a move you'd seen over and over again in all those tragic muggle romantic comedies that Hermione had made you endure over the years. You couldn't deny that your stomach sank at seeing the scene before you, George and the pretty woman flirting openly in the near empty shop, especially after he kissed you earlier in the day. You considered just backing away and pretending that you'd not seen what you had but that plan was immediately rendered impossible when you heard your name called out by a very familiar voice. George.

He waved his hand at you, gesturing for you to join them and you willed your feet to move across the floor, trying to force a smile onto your face though inside you were a maelstrom of hurt and rage.

"This is her, y/n," George says, introducing you as you approach them, placing his hand onto your waist as you stand next to him. "She came up with these, bloody brilliant actually," George says, holding out the familiar packaging of the weather in a bottle product you'd created together in your sixth year. "Excellent diversion tactic or just a harmless prank if preferred, a rain cloud will actually follow the receiver around and it creates no mess, except for the unsuspecting victim, they'll be wet through."

Usually, George's praise would have made you blush, especially as his hand held your waist so openly, but in the current circumstance you just felt enraged. The woman he was chatting with had pulled away from him and clearly had a face like thunder at your interruption, though she tried to mask it around George.

"It seems your employees are very talented," she says with a tight lipped smile that certainly didn't reach her eyes. You didn't miss the inflection on the word 'employees' and it pained you not to roll your eyes at her purposeful goading. You shot her a sarcastic smile in return before looking around for Ron but you couldn't see him.

"Employee?" George says questioningly before looking down at you, pulling you in slightly, "my fiancée." You froze, feeling suddenly on the spot at you tried to search for any sign of Ron or Verity in hearing distance but there was no one else around.

The woman seemed to baulk at the new information and all pretence of a smile dropped from her face. She suddenly made up some excuse about having to collect something from Flourish and Botts and quickly hustled out of the store, leaving you and George alone.

You snorted as you watched her exit, "should rename the shop 'Weasleys' Wizard Whizzes, with how fast she just ran out."

George barked out a laugh before checking his watch and flourishing his wand, effectively closing and locking the door. He nudges you with his hip as he squeezes past to get to the tills, opening up the first one that Verity had manned for most of her shift.

"So fiancé Eh?" You said quietly, moving around to the second till to begin cashing it up just as George had with the first one. George gives you a little look as he counts the sickles before jotting down the total on the little piece of parchment beside the till.

"Only one more day before we tell mum, might as well start the rumours," George says with a knowing smirk. The mention of telling Molly made your stomach lurch and it was all you could think of as you counted each galleon, knut and sickle in the till.

"You ready my beloved?" George asks jokingly, reaching for your hand as he puts the last of the cash in the safe.

"What about the accounts?" You ask, looking through the inventory receipts laid out on your desk.

"They can wait till morning, I'm starving, let's go home," George says, taking your hand and begins leading you down the stairs. His use of 'home' gave you a warm, fluttery feeling that made a goofy smile want to cross across your lips, knowing that he meant both of you.

You walked out of the shop and George turned out the lights and locked up with his wand before placing it into his suit jacket pocket, never once letting go of your hand as you walked around to the back of the store and apparated back to your flat.

As soon as you made it back, you walked into your bedroom and threw off your bra just as you did everyday, followed by your socks and jeans, changing into your loungewear straight away. You threw on a big cardigan and walked back out to see George in the kitchen, looking through the fridge.

"Made you a cup of tea Angel," he says with an absent nod of his head as he peruses the ingredients.

"Thank you!" You gush, elated at the prospect of having a warm cup of tea, "I knew there was a reason I'm marrying you," you joked.

George huffed mockingly, closing the fridge as he turns to face you. He'd taken off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves and you couldn't deny how good he looked right at that moment.

"Not my movie star good looks? Towering height? Flaming red hair?" He jokes, stepping closer to you.

"Hmmm," you pretend to think, dramatically tapping your chin, "no it's definitely the tea."

"Remind me why I'm marrying you again?" He teases, reaching behind you to grab his drink.

"I'd say my impeccable sense of humour and sharp whit but we both know it's for a savvy business move," you replied with a sarcastic grin that falls from your face as you watch George's face sink. He recovers quickly but you definitely saw the stricken expression on his face and you immediately regret your words, though you were of course only stating facts.

You start tea as George nips in the shower and as the rice begins to boil and the chicken comes out of the oven, the kitchen heats up exponentially and you have to take off your cardigan due to the heat, casting it to the wind to land somewhere on the sofa behind you. Just as you reached for the jar of sauce from the cupboard, you saw the bottles of daisyroot draught you'd bought for George a few days ago and pulled it out for him before adding the sauce to the chicken.

"Georgie, I got you some daisyroot, if you want it," you said, turning to face him as you stir the bubbling pan. He's wearing his pyjama bottoms and a black T-shirt as he rubs his hair with the towel, walking barefoot into the kitchen. He opens his mouth to reply but he seems to briefly pause, focusing intently on something around you before snapping out of it a few moments later, looking bashful.

"Great, yeah great, thank you," he stammered, stuttering through his words as he avoided eye contact with you and walked past you to grab a glass from the top shelf. You frowned at his peculiar behaviour but decided not to question in, realising that it might be an adjustment thing from him moving in with you, after all the only person he'd ever lived with as an adult was Fred. Perhaps you shouldn't have bought him the daisyroot, thinking that somehow you might have overstepped.

"Tea's nearly ready," you say, perhaps a little delicately in hopes that you wouldn't upset him but his reaction is normal so you try to put it out of your mind, putting it down to a bad turn.

"This is amazing Angel," George says, taking huge forkfuls of the chicken curry and rice you'd haphazardly thrown together. You smile appreciatively at him and scoop up some of your own food, admittedly taking much smaller bites than George. "So, you ready to tell Mum tomorrow?"

Your eyes shoot up to his with a glare, seeing him smirking at you and you roll your eyes, feeling a lump in your throat and nerves at the pit of your stomach.

"Yeah can't wait," you mutter sarcastically, already anticipating what could happen in your mind, picturing her utter elation, or her outrage.

"You know she'll be happy right?" George says, scooping up another forkful of rice.

"You think we can actually convince them?" You ask, changing the direction of the conversation slightly, not realising how much that question had been playing on your mind. George is quiet for a minute as he considers his answer, taking a sip of the daisyroot before picking up his fork again.

"Don't see why not," he says with a little shrug before turning to look at you with a little smile, "not exactly unheard of is it? Falling for your best friend."

George's words make your stomach flip and roil in numerous ways, the smile on his face only furthering those complicated feelings within you.

"Guess not," you reply, trying to act neutral as you absently eat your food, though you couldn't deny that your appetite had waned dramatically from the topic of conversation. "So, do I wear the ring tomorrow or do I put it on after work?"

"Whatever you want Angel," George says, reaching for his glass again, "Ron's off tomorrow and I doubt Verity would notice anything even directly under her nose, it's just you and me." When you don't reply, silently considering your options, George leans over and grabs your hand on the table, stroking where your engagement ring should be. "Keep in on my chain tomorrow, around your neck and then put it on before we get back to mum's," he suggests, a softness to his voice that made it seem like a hopeful request. You nod and smile at him, still feeling a little conflicted as you tuck into the rest of your meal.

When you climb into bed later that night, your thoughts are consumed by your situation, of your impending engagement and your future after that. Truthfully, you hadn't taken much time to process everything since that first initial day, getting caught up in George moving in and all the things that came along with that. You were already anxious at returning to the Burrow tomorrow, having only been back a handful of times since the war, once for Harry and Ginny's engagement party and a few other dinners that never quite felt the same as before, like something obvious was missing, as it always was these days. Your thoughts were plagued with what ifs and nervous thoughts of what lies after but mostly all you could think of was Fred.

You had to remind yourself that you were doing this for George and for Fred's memory, to keep the business exactly as it had been created, to honour Fred. They were your oldest friends, your best friends and you'd give anything for them to succeed and to be happy and if that meant sacrificing your own life and happiness temporarily, then you'd do it in a heartbeat, regardless of the emotional strain.

You felt shame at lying to the people that had become your second family, that had housed you and welcomed you into their home like one of their own. You felt sad that you were holding back George from finding someone and even more conflicted that the idea of George finding someone else caused you to hurt in ways you couldn't explain. And most of all, you felt immeasurable guilt at your arrangement with George, namely because it felt like you were disrespecting Fred. Moving on, even though you were never officially together, seemed to imply that you had chosen George over him, that you could be so selfish and heartless that you'd marry his twin brother after his death, casting all of your memories away and rendering them insignificant. In your heart, you knew Fred wouldn't see it that way and he'd be proud of you for doing what you were doing for his and George's sake, though your mind wouldn't listen to a word of that, instead choosing to attack you.

As soon as the idea crossed your mind, you pulled back your covers and hauled yourself out of bed to crouch on the floor, reaching for a large shoebox that was stored under your bed, filled with your most treasured items. The top of the box had scribbles all over it in both in pencil and quill ink, with writings and drawings of Weasley products all over in a mixture of yours and the twins' handwriting. You sat and chuckled at the difference between everyone's writing; yours was the neatest and most consistent with cursive tails and joined letters. George's writing was small and a little 'curly', though it was quite neat for a boy's writing. Fred's writing however, fluctuated between indecipherable scribblings and various levels of darkness as if he's taken too much ink on the quill. You ran your fingers over the markings, smiling to yourself, before opening the lid to the shoebox. You didn't do this often, only when you needed to feel him, to be surrounded by memories, like right now.

You pulled out a stack of photos front the top, some magical and some not, seeing you, George and Fred at various ages and places during your Hogwarts years. You looked through them with fondness before coming across a photo of you and Fred at the Yule Ball in your sixth year, both of you dressed in your fanciest clothes. Fred's rust coloured waistcoat matches his vibrant, long hair perfectly and you looked at the photo carefully, thinking of how handsome he looked. Memories of dancing and laughing through the night entered your mind, both with Fred and George after George had stolen you away for a dance when Fred had stepped out to get drinks. Fred had walked straight up to the pair of you pretending to be angry and had tried to steal you back, both of them never missing a step of the waltz choreography as you were passed back and forth between the brothers, their matching red hair just a blur as you spun around.

You couldn't stop the tears that filled your eyes and steamed down your cheeks as you looked at the photo of Fred, trying to remember every little detail about him, the scar on his eyebrow and the light freckles on his cheeks, his smell and his laughter. You put down the photos and picked up the button that was underneath the stack, one of the buttons from your dress that night that Fred had unceremoniously ripped off of you, this singular button popping off and rolling underneath his bed, only for you to find it two months later. You placed the button down onto the photos and pulled out a stack of letters that you'd saved, some from Fred and some from George, not feeling strong enough to be able to read them at the moment.

Just as you pulled out a little stuffed toy of a Niffler that Fred had bought you in your third year and cuddled it into your chest, there was a gentle knock at the door. You called out for George to come in, trying to stash the things away before he could see them and get upset as well as quickly wiping away your tears before looking up to him.

Whatever he wanted from you disappeared the second he saw your tear strained face, crouched over a box he recognised immediately.

"Angel," he says quietly, which only makes more tears fall. He moves like lightning over to you and immediately wraps his arms around you, sitting beside you and pulling you into his embrace so that you were near enough sat in his lap. He holds you, rocking gently as you cry, no longer seeing any reason to hold back your emotions.

"Your T-shirt's all wet," you say in a weak, apologetic voice with a sniffle a few minutes later, pulling away from him slightly. "I'm so sorry, it's not fair of me to do this with you," you say, noticing that his own tears are working their way down his face.

"Not fair? What do you mean?" He says gently, allowing you to pull away but not completely, keeping a comforting hand on you.

"He was your brother, your twin, I-"

"Enough of that," he says with a shake of his head, reaching down to wipe away a tear under your eye, "he meant everything to both of us."

His words make you want to cry all over again but you don't, trying to stay calm as you rest your forehead on his shoulder. His hand strokes your back as you try and calm your breathing, feeling a little embarrassed by your outburst after you'd got it all out of your system.

"I'm sorry, I hadn't considered how hard this must be for you, you and Fred were together for-."

"It doesn't matter," you say, cutting off George, not wanting to explain that you were never really together, "it's not that, not really, I just really needed him."

George gives you a single nod that holds all the weight of understanding, clearly knowing exactly how you felt.

"I remember this," George chuckles, pulling something out of the box delicately. It was a piece of parchment with the ingredients for the ageing potion you'd found in an old potions book that the twins had used to try and enter their names into the triwizard tournament. You'd warned them that it wouldn't work against Dumbledore's age line but they hadn't listened. Attached to the sheet of parchment with an old paper clip was a photo you'd taken of the twins in the infirmary, both of them sporting wild white hair and beards, including bushy eyebrows, their arms around each other with cheesy smiles.

You watched as George reached down to touch an old, faded T-shirt of Fred's that was tucked down into the bottom of the box, an old quidditch T-shirt that had outgrown him by his third year, golden thread stitching up a hole in the collar and another smaller one on the seam of the sleeve. You wore it to bed nearly every night for years, the softness and the smell always so comforting to you.

George's fingers ran across the Gryffindor logo for a moment before catching sight of a keyring he'd bought you from the Quidditch World Cup, the green shamrock dangling from the binder ring, the Ireland logo on the back a little scratched up now but the green, white and orange colours were still as vibrant as ever.

"I bought you this," he said with a smile, placing it into his hand as he inspected it. You nodded eagerly, remembering it clearly. You'd painted the boys faces before leaving the tent with the face paint you'd taken with you and when they'd been to look at the merchandise with the limited money they had, they'd both returned with matching green and white scarves, Fred decked out in an obscenely large hat and George had nervously held out his hand to you, passing you the keyring as he moved you to stand between the twins.

"Knew you would want a momento from the trip but I didn't think you'd appreciate one of those hats like Fred and Ginny had," he says, a fondness in his eyes as he looks at the metal keyring.

"I used it everyday for five years," you said, giving him a little smile. "I caught it on the door one day and I thought I broke it, had to reattach the shamrock and then I switched it out, it means too much to me to get broken or lost."

George looks up at you with emotion filled eyes, a look shared between you both that held so much depth that it stole your breath for a few moments.

"Feels like another lifetime," George says after a few minutes of silence. You made a noise of agreement, flicking your eyes down to look at the box filled with distant memories that were now bittersweet and a little twisted.

"You're wrong, you know."

George looks up at you with a puzzled frown, confused by your words. You breathe out a puff of laughter and smile at him, reaching for the hand that wasn't holding the keyring.

"Fred isn't the only one who means everything to me."

Your words seem to affect George in a way that you hadn't anticipated as a tear comes to his eye, his hand tightening around yours before he pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you. You hug him back without question, feeling his soft (and now dry) T-shirt against your skin, his arms around you and the comforting smell of his hair and skin taking over your senses.

He pulls away ever so slightly and for a moment you think he's going to kiss you again, his face so close to yours but he doesn't, slowly releasing you from his hold until you climbed off of him, a little disappointed.

"Right, enough mushy shit, we need a plan, for telling your family," you say, standing up and pulling your pyjamas back into place.

"That was what I came to tell you," George says, moving to stand as well as you bent down to slide the box back under your bed. You turned around and looked at him expectantly, wanting him to elaborate. "Mum sent an owl, said something about a gnome infestation, apparently they're vicious this time of year, dad's been bitten twice just walking to the car."

"Oh."

"I was thinking we could meet them at the leaky cauldron or get a meal out? We'll need to tell them soon," he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Invite them over! I can cook, might need to leave work early to prep everything though," you reply, trying to save the plans you'd made.

"Really? You don't have to but,"

"They need to believe we're really together, what better way then to show them that we're living together," you say before reaching a bump in the road, "your stuff will probably need to move in here though, can't have it look like we're sleeping separately, we're not exactly priests."

George nods, following along with your train of thought. "I could bring more of my stuff over? Litter it about, just for a couple of days?"

You shrug in reply, "I don't mind."

"I'll write to mum now and offer them to come here, take the day off tomorrow, then you won't be rushing around, like I know you will," he says with a knowing smirk that you roll your eyes at.

"But you'll be on your own."

"I'll send Ron an owl."

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[thereigning-lorelai]

Please oh please share with us how you did the effect in your latest Nancy drew set, it is truly so gorgeous I cannot stop looking at it!

hi nonny, sorry this took a while. so you're looking for the effect from this post:

i made it fairly easy on myself for this one because i am lazy and impatient as hell, so hopefully this is a rather short tutorial.

there's a neater and tidier way to do this that would require frames instead of timeline but for the effect i was aiming for, the slightly sloppier and faster way actually worked fine.

preparation: you'll need a gif with the overlay effect that you like and want to use. i'm giving you the one i used for all the gifs in this set (just slightly altered for each individual gif):

then, of course, you need two gifs — one that'll be your base gif (the coloured one in my example) and one that'll "bleed into" the other one (the black and white one here).

base gif: i just did my regular preparation and colouring, added some yellow and red brush strokes here and there to add some colour and that was it.

i also added some text at this point and i positioned it on top of my base gif but underneath the overlay layers (because i wanted the text to vanish with the overlay):

second gif: i did a quick and very basic black and white colouring for this one.

for the overlay effect to work properly, i set the blending mode of this gif to multiply.

overlay: now the fun part. i added my overlay effect gif and changed its size and position to my liking and so that the important parts of my base gif were visible long enough (aka the kiss).

i set this layer to screen and clipped the b/w gif and the adjustment layers to it.

the thing is, as you can see, the overlay part is way too transparent to be efficient. you might get away with this if your base gif is dark enough but for the scene i wanted to use as a base it just didn't look right.

so i duplicated the overlay effect layer, dragged it underneath my original one, inverted it and set it to darken. et voilà, this worked wonders:

before saving, have a look at your timeline and whether everything lines up. you can change the starting point of your overlay effect (having it come in later or earlier) or your other gifs. whatever looks right to you and also fits into the size limitation.

and that's it. if something didn't make sense or you want to know anything else, just let me know. hope this helped, nonny. ♥️

[legendofzoodles]

Who I think signed their name in this LU Chapter

Here buddy, lemme help you out (hopefully I got these right). From top to bottom:

Time

Figured he'd go first. They probably all went together to sign their names once the dust settled. His handwriting looks elegant, you can tell he used to practice a lot.

Legend

Could also be Warriors, Wild or Hyrule. Hear me out, the writing is big and not in the lines, but the pen strokes are really refined and pretty. Legend has been glued to Twi's side since he woke up, likely he rushed to sign his name and ran back up to finish the conversation they were having. Probably about fishing.

Four

Could also be Wind, but the pen strokes look a little more refined, what you'd expect from a professional blacksmith. Maybe he had to write notes with the swords he made explaining their quirks, what materials he used etc. Also didn't he go to school?

Warriors

Could also be Legend, Wild or Hyrule. But come on, guys look at how small that print is, indistinguishable from that inked by a typewriter. Captain's got his neat report font down to a science.

Wind

Could also be Four, but the pen strokes are bold, like he was pressing too hard, not familiar with the type of pen they had. He also wrote all over the lines, like the gremlin he is.

Hyrule

Could also be Legend, Warriors or Wild. I was torn between this being either Hyrule or Wild- question is who'd have the neater handwriting? I felt like Hyrule would, on a day to day basis, not be writing as much as Wild and probably has never had a reason to be neat in his life. So long as it can be read it's fiine.

Sky

Has...surprisingly unneat handwriting for a schoolboy- the pen strokes are pretty but he didn't stay in the lines at all! Maybe he just really wanted to go to bed.

Wild

Could also be Legend, Warriors or Hyrule. The pen strokes are refined- muscle memory from when he maybe wrote reports as a knight- and it would be in the lines had Sky not hogged too much space.

Twilight

I know Wild probably brought up the book for him to sign in the comfort of his bed but holy hell that is neat! Seriously, he barely escaped death, give him a whole page! Boy is clearly ambidextrous, no way he did that with the arm that almost got gnawed off by a shapeshifting lizard. Maybe he sharpened his calligraphy while in the Resistance?

~~~

Thanks for reading! Any of these could be swapped around, and I probably got some wrong but I just did what worked best with my headcanons.

Masterlist

9th place in the LU character design ranking

Character analysis posts:

Hero of the Sky, Hero of Time, Hero of Twilight, Hero of the Wild, Hero of Warriors

[glitterpensupremacy]

(NOT MTS CONTENT) Alright, as a Miraculous fan (with a particularly vested interest in Chat Noir) I’m making my thoughts on the new Chat Noir look clear.

I’m not super upset that he doesn’t have a new outfit, since, let’s be honest, Ladybug and Carapace needed it WAY more than he did.

I’m also not that concerned about his new proportions. Yeah, they’re a little funny looking, it that might just be the camera angle. Either way, he’s getting older so it makes sense that his facial structure is changing (plus I give my own CN a slightly more angular face to indicate that he’s a sweet kid, sure, but there’s a lot more to him than just “good perfect bean”.

So then, what’s got me emotionally invested enough to make a Tumblr post? (By now it’s probably pretty obvious…)

The hair.

HERE’S THE THING THOUGH- it’s not that I think the hairstyle is bad or ugly. It’s very stylish, and the smooth swishy look would be more than welcomed on a different character. But that’s the problem, this is the wild and chaotic Chat Noir, the catboy of destruction who tells terrible puns. His hair should not be that neat, and it should not be that perfect (yeah it’s a little messy, but only enough to have that “effortless, natural look” you’d see in a shampoo ad)

Maybe I’m overreacting; after all, it’s just a hairstyle, and I’m treating it like it’s the end all be all for his character in Season Six. However… it’s not just the hair. While watching Season Five, I noticed that Chat Noir doesn’t really joke around as much as he did in previous seasons (especially in the second half of S5), and isn’t really allowed to get mad or be rebellious outside of when his role as the love interest needs him to (trying to cataclysm Dark Owl because of the Married LadyNoir vision, trying to cataclysm Dark Cupid because he’s being a protective boyfriend to Marinette, telling off Nighttormentor because Gabriel forced him to go to London, sure, but the show makes it clear that the REAL problem is him trying to keep Adrien and Marinette apart). Other than that, he’s the perfect well-behaved supportive partner.

In general, it feels like Chat Noir and Adrien are becoming more similar personalities, which is good: I think a lot of us have anticipated this happening for his character arc… but the problem is, Chat Noir is becoming more like Adrien rather than Adrien becoming Chat Noir, because isn’t his arc supposed to be breaking free of the perfect controlled persona his father has forced him into, learning to express himself and become his own person? (There’s also the fact that I think he’s a little more interesting to watch as Chat Noir or the more expressive early seasons Adrien, but his development is the more important issue here.)

This kinda thing has me worried that everyone who believes that the finale was bad on purpose (the secret dystopia route) and that the writer’s genuinely do want us to believe that Gabriel’s actions have been valid and ethical (THEY ARE NOT: BRO IS A TERRORIST 💀.) Either that, or they just want us to watch the cute shipping scenes and not really care about Adrien’s character outside of that. Kinda a bleak view, I know, but that’s how things have been looking lately. (Maybe they’re making him look neater as a part of the dystopia route though? I guess we’ll see but it seems unlikely…)

(I probably should reemphasize that I’m not actually getting this “doom and gloom conspiracy board” over JUST a haircut. It’s more like I saw a bunch of other (personal) warning signs over the last two seasons, and this is just one other thing making me more worried.)

I know this isn’t my usual stuff but I felt like I needed to air my grievances (especially since while I have seen other people not like the new hair, it doesn’t seem to be for the same reasons as me, seeing as I don’t even dislike the hairstyle itself; just the fact that Chat Noir’s the one who has it). Hopefully this was at least interesting or even validating, but if not… Well, I’ll get back to my normal content after this anyway.

[miss-floral-thief]

Gas station isn’t too far by foot but did pack cleanser in case I need to wash my face lol

[captainjonnitkessler]

The problem. The FUCKING problem with renovations. Is that they always start off small, you know? I once tried to replace the fan in my bathroom and ended by ripping the entire bathroom down to bare studs and replacing literally everything in it.

Take my washing machine, for instance. I want to move it twenty feet over to create a little laundry area in the basement. I'll have to reroute some plumbing, nothing too onerous. Except.

The concrete floor in the new area is a disaster. Last guy painted it with the wrong paint, it's scratched and marred and stained, it has to go. No problem! You can rent concrete grinders from Home Depot, grinding and repainting should take less than a week if I'm being lazy about it. Except . . .

Now that everything is moved out of the way for the grinding, I'm thinking about the lally pole that supports the main beam of the house. It's right in front of the basement door and makes it really hard to move things in and out of the basement. If I could move it over just three feet that problem would be solved. But even if a structural engineer signs off on that, I'll have to cut up the floor to remove it, which of course will delay the grinding and painting. No problem! I can spend that time painting the ceiling (it's too low to put in a drop ceiling, but if you paint the ceiling and everything in it one color it has a great effect). Except . . .

If I'm going to paint the ceiling I need to pull down all the gross, mouse-infested insulation from the rim joists and replace it with foam board insulation, which will also hopefully help with the severe pillbug infestation we have down there.

Except, as I'm up there pulling down the insulation, I can't help but notice how awful the romex wiring is. Just wires absolutely everywhere, they look like shit in a way that a coat of paint won't hide. Not to mention that my electrical panel is overflowing with romex. Surely, surely it would be easier and neater to just put up a few runs of nice clean conduit, and re-wire that half of the house while I'm at it so the breakers in the kitchen quit tripping.

And that's how moving a washing machine twenty feet ends up taking three years and thousands of dollars.

[purupurple]

buy me some coffees for mason

hello everyone, i know i haven't been posting much but recently a vet visit revealed my 11-year-old black cat named mason has some health concerns that need to be addressed. among these things are some dental work, a biopsy for a lump on his chest, and diagnosing a possible heart issue. money's been pretty bad lately so i figured its once again time to remind everyone that i'm offering ko-fi sketches. but this time i'll be offering a little more rather than just sticking to plain black and white doodles.

5 coffees ($15) will get you a sketch of any request that follows my guidelines listed here and if you feel you may want to add some simple color to your sketch (and maybe have it look a tad neater), it's another 5 coffees. if you would like to see some examples of what the sketch may look like, please take a look at my kofi gallery.

of course, it's perfectly fine if you want to just give one or two coffees or simply reblog to spread the word. anything helps, as it goes with stuff like this. thank you for reading and hopefully i'll be posting some art again soon.

[butmakeitgayblog]

In canon clexa au, does Clarke ever get these urges once in a while where she just pinches Lexas cheek affectionately? Coz hell she could give me these sassy looks any day and I’d just see baby.

As adorable as this visual is - and it is - nah I tend to not think that'd be something Clarke nor Lexa would really appreciate in their relationship. I just think given how often they each have to deal with condescension from their elders and peers and so on, a gesture like that would almost end up feeling a bit more... demeaning? Belittling? Those feels like too harsh of a words, but hopefully you get what I mean. Affectionate, but not necessarily given or recieved in the good way?

However, I do think Clarke would still be very affectionate. Perhaps even to a degree of doting. I could see her being the type to constantly reach out and fix Lexa's hair - brushing it away from her temples or quickly retwining a braid that had come loose with a mindless precision that showed she'd been doing it for ages. I think she'd be the type to drift her fingertips along Lexa's jaw whenever she noticed she was clenching her teeth in annoyance. She'd fix little smudges of her warpaint to keep them neater in the times when Lexa hadn't been able to refresh the look for hours. I think she'd kiss her little lip freckle and brush her thumbs along her cheeks as she held her face because... whew, it's a pretty great face. But it would all be with the air of not only supporting Lexa, but taking care of her. Building up that feeling of power within her role as Commander, while also wordlessly reminding Lexa that she's loved her through the best and worst of it the only way she knows how.

And I think it'd be kind of wonderful for Clarke watching the years pass across her face, feeling the baby fat of youth slowly fade away into even more defined cheekbones and a jaw made of very sexy steel. Literally getting to feel the transformation of time under her fingertips as Lexa grows from the strong but young leader she met when she fell to Earth, into this even more regal and devastatingly beautiful ruler.

[dumplingsfordays]

sparks on a cold night

gepard x drunk!reader

summary - drunk reader (who hates gepard) crashes at gepard's place bc they really have nowhere else to go.

cw!: swearing, enemies to lovers, mentions of alcohol + drunkenness, reader wearing a dress, otherwise fluffy :)

note - aaaa gepard brainrot go brr. also tysm for 80 freakin followers this is insanity <33 ily pookies so much y'all are so sweet!! thank you all again soso much for the support and hopefully you enjoy the content <3

and as always, thank you for reading :))

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

He just finished signing some paperwork at his desk in his room upstairs when he heard the knocks.

The first was a rather quiet and weak knock, so Gepard didn't hear it, but fortunately the second one was much louder. He then checked his watch. 11:37 PM wasn't really a time when people usually knock on others' doors, so whoever was at the door must've had some important business with him. He hurriedly adjusted his robe around him and walked over to the enterance to his house, looking through the peephole when he stopped in front of it.

This must've been some sort of mistake, he thought, recognizing your face staring right back at him.

But nevertheless he decided to open the door - you looked a little flushed and cold and Gepard couldn't bear to leave a poor soul like yourself shivering in the cold all alone, especially if you needed urgent help, but if you were going to treat him the same way that you did when you delivered paperwork to his office, he was going to shut to door right then and there.

Opening the door, he saw a lazy smile blossom across your face at the sight of his taller figure.

"Heyy -hic- Geppie," you slurred, hiccuping as you spoke. "I know that I -hic- totally hate you and everythin' but I kinda need a bit a help."

Were you drunk?

"You see, I kinda fucked up. I thiiiink that I -hic- had a little teensy tiny bit too much to drink and I locked myself out of -hic- my house."

"And you don't have any spare keys or anything?" asked Gepard, leaning on the doorframe.

"No spare keys s'or anythin'."

As much as Gepard wanted to slam the door in your face for the nasty rumors about him that you whispered in your friends' ears and the hateful, cold stares that you gave him from time to time for absolutely no reason, he couldn't bring himself to do it. You looked, well, almost pathetic. Slightly disheveled hair framed your face like a (slightly neater) bird's nest and your lip gloss was a little smeared on the edges. The chilly night breeze caused a shiver of goosebumps to crawl across your skin and your cheeks to redden even further. You sensed warmth and comfort emanating from Gepard's frame, and subconsciously leaned forward, closer to the pleasant air about him.

You tugged the hem of the black dress that you wore down and crossed your arms, waiting for a reply from the blond man, which he gave in the form of a sigh.

"Alright. But only for one night. And you owe me."

You nodded gratefully, eyes widening and lips stretching into a thankful smile. "Mkay, thanks so much. You're vvvery sweet, y'know?"

Gepard leaned back to let you in, and you daintily stepped inside. The warmth of his figure was also present in his house, which isn't too large but also not too cramped. It's a little dim, because most of the light around this time of night here is produced by candles, but you don't mind - in fact, you really liked it. It was a nice break from the sharp neon lights of the bar and later the uncomfortable haze of the streetlamps. He, like a true gentleman, closed the large oaken door after you and beckoned you to take off your coat, which you gave up with a grateful nod and half-lidded, delirious eyes. Your cheeks glowed a soft pink.

While removing the coat from your shoulders, leaving you in that skimpy black dress that was basically 40% skin, the blond clearly noticed the scent of alcohol emanating from your neck and lips, and it finally settled in his brain that you were only acting this friendly because you were drunk. His earlier suspicion was correct.

He hung up your coat in a closet while you made your way to the fireplace in an adjacent room, the one that just so happened to be Gepard's favorite. Paintings sparingly covered the walls, bookshelves below them contained a gigantic variety of books, and the best part of it all in his opinion was the lit fireplace and the couch in front of it, on which you so happened to snuggle up into a ball.

"Do you want a blanket?" he asked. "You must be rather cold after being outside."

After a couple of seconds you answered, turning your head to meet his gaze.

"Yes -hic- please."

With a small sigh, he grabbed the heaviest quilt that he could find from the closet beside the door and walked back to you. He draped it over your shivering frame and sat down beside you, deciding to abandon his paperwork for now. He could deal with it later anyways.

You were too busy staring at the flickering flames licking against the logs in the fireplace to notice him, but when you felt the couch shift downwards at his weight, you didn't mind - in fact, it was much warmer (thus better) when he was beside you. Gepard, on the other hand, had many more thoughts than you did right now. He was specifically thinking about why you came to him instead of one of your friends' places, and why you were acting so nice to him all of a sudden, so he decided to just ask.

You replied in a low, hushed tone. "Feel like you're more... y'know, reliable."

"Thank you, but wouldn't your friends be? You hate me, after all."

"Hate? When did I -hic- say hate?"

"Well, judging by the fact that you spread rumors about me and glare at me when you bring me paperwork, I'd say you do."

At this you laughed airily, like the tinkle of wind chimes in the breeze. "Noooo, I don't hate you. I'm just a little jealous. Because you're so braaave n strong n responsible. How -hic- could anyone not be jealous?"

You didn't see, of course, but the blond man blushed a little at how you blabbered on about how courageous he was. Never, in all his years working with you, did he ever expect you to confess this.

"I still think you owe me an apology, though," he mentioned, gazing at the fire with you. "For all the dirty looks and everything."

An amused flicker in your eyes told Gepard everything he needed to know. Lips quirking up into a grin, you leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on the apple of his ruddy cheek and then curled up into your previous position on the couch as if nothing happened.

And this time he really, unequivocally, full-on flushed with a previously alien to him mixture of embarrassment, shyness, and self-consciousness.

"What- what was that?" he managed to stammer out.

"My apology," you winked back with that same gorgeous grin. "You -hic- accept it though, right?"

Oh no. No, he couldn't look at you any longer after what you'd done, because then his brain would probably short-circuit and he'd embarrass himself even further by accidentally blurting out how pretty you looked in the amber light of the fire, hair messy, eyes lidded, lips reddened-

No. Any direction but that.

He coughed and cleared his throat.

"Fine," he choked out. After a moment's silence you spoke up.

"Geppie," you started, using his nickname absentmindedly, "what do you think -hic- about me?"

It was probably best to say as little as possible, but Gepard decided against it. If you were this drunk, you probably wouldn't remember anything from this night tomorrow. "I, um... I think that you're, uh, a hard worker. And you're nice to everyone." He almost added 'except for me' but changed his mind. "You're also, um, smart. And funny sometimes. And helpful. So I guess that I think you're a good person overall."

"Aww, -hic- thank you." Your lips turned up into a smile.

Fire is an interesting thing. While it can burn (and probably did the cavemen that first discovered it), it can also evoke a feeling of comfort and perhaps even safety, provided that you're sitting in a large mansion, on a couch, in front of a magnificent white-brick fireplace with a man who, unbeknownst to you, is sort-of starting to warm up to you despite his earlier grudges. It's funny how something as dangerous and potentially lethal as fire can do that.

The same applied to you - you were also realizing that being jealous of someone doesn't automatically give the person permission to insult or gossip about them. Should you admit your mistakes to Gepard out-loud and swear to change like the villain at the end of a kids' storybook? Definitely not. But should you apologize, for real this time, just to make this situation less awkward? Yes.

"Gepard, look. I'm -hic- ssorry that I kinda treated you badly since I started working. Is there anythin' that I can to do make up for it?"

You hear him sigh beside you.

"No, nothing major. But there is one thing."

It was now or never, Gepard thought. Either you're going to hate me or you won't care at all tomorrow morning.

Leaning over to your side of the couch, he reached out a hand to cup your cheek and glided his thumb over the smooth skin. You inhaled sharply but then relaxed - he used this moment to gather himself, and finally, after a brief moment of internal panicking, he kissed you.

He kissed you.

He kissed you, a now much-more-sober-but-still-pretty-drunk-person-who-he'd-hated-up-until-now who looked infinitely prettier with their face illuminated with a soft golden glow emanating from the fireplace and with their lips on his. He felt you jump a little when he finally did it but you settled down again after (and perhaps even leaned in a little). And when you parted, both out of breath and eyes locked on each others', he moved his hands to cradle yours.

"I-I don't know what came over me, I'm sorry, I-"

"No." You tilted your head to the side slightly. "Don't apologize. That was nice."

You were going to be the death of him. Gepard flushed even harder at your statement if that was possible. You? Saying that was nice? He must be in heaven.

"So, um, does that mean that we're, uh..." he trailed off, too embarrassed to say 'dating'.

"Enemies?" you ask. No.

"No, no, um... dating."

"What?"

"Dating."

"Dating?"

"Please don't make me repeat it..."

"I won't! It's just funny seeing you embarrassed."

"Oh, y/n, you-"

"Just kidding! But I think so, yes. Unless you're aiming for, y'know, something different." You jokingly winked at him. "I know you aren't, I'm also kidding on that last part."

Gepard fully turned away from you now, hiding his red-as-a-tomato face in his hands. You, however, had already stopped teasing and slowly pulled his hand-covered face back to you.

"Geppieee," you cooed, "Come on. I'm just joking."

"I'll only forgive you if you accept to be my partner."

"Who said I won't?"

His fingers moved to reveal one eye like a ray of sunshine peering through the clouds.

"So you would?"

"Of course!"

"You really would?" He put his hands back down to grasp yours in a warm embrace and leaned in again, eyes shining a little with relief.

"Yeah, I just said so!"

"Oh, that makes me so unimaginably happy..."

"..."

"..."

"Wait, isn't it weird how we hated each other like twenty minutes ago?"

"Oh. Yeah, that's kinda weird, now that you put it like that."

"Hm."

"Hm indeed."

[saeran-exe]

10/06/24

It's been a pretty lazy day since today's exam's course is fairly easy. I basically just had to have a look at old notes and make new, neater ones, and do a quick recap of some basic maths lol.

It's still very early, though, so I might study calculus, manufacturing processes or programming after my French class. My uni classes start at 19h00 on campus, so the exam will start at that same time and, hopefully, I'll finish it early enough to hit the gym before it closes at 22h because I went to sleep way too late and couldn't wake up early enough to go to my boxing class at 6h00 ����

I also made some cute blueberry and strawberry milk but drank it before I could take a picture of it... oops!