#i should better keep working on my color wheel :)

[schnitzelsemmerl]

i literally love "meet the plastics" sm its such a good song!!

[elixirfromthestars]

Boulevard Confessions

Pairing: 1940s!Bucky Barnes x Nurse!Reader 

Summary: Being a third wheel to Peggy and Steve wasn't your ideal Thursday night fun. However, when they tell you Bucky is tagging along you eagerly decide to join them. That is until a third party makes its presence known.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warning(s): drinking / fluff / jealousy / divergent from canon timeline / suggestive language / tipsy symptoms / mentions of war + the hardships that came with it

a/n:  Here’s a little piece that’s been sitting unfinished in my drafts for ages. For context, this timeline is one where Steve and Bucky both made it back from the war safe and sound and are enjoying their lives now that the war is over. Thank you for reading! ₊˚⊹♡ As a little psa my writing challenge is still ongoing!! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!! ♡

for ambiance 🎶

“ I am about to spew my dinner all over this table,” you grimace, downing the rest of your martini. The bitterness of the spirits was lost on you as your consumption grew in time with your sour mood.

Peggy eyed you from across the table, holding back her amusement, “ If you keep stuffing your face with martinis you will.” You reach out to grab another unclaimed drink, but before you could, Peggy slid the rest of them away from you. You crossed your arms, blowing out a resigned sigh. Even in your inhibited state, you knew better than to argue with an SSR agent. 

Peggy shook her head at you, “ As your best friend I have an obligation to put a stop to this. Don’t you have a shift tomorrow at the clinic?” Your eyes went wide at the reminder. 

You slump in the booth, dreading the bad hangover awaiting you in the morning. “ I do, but thankfully it's in the afternoon. I won’t feel it by then. . .” You trailed off, failing to convince Peggy, or yourself, you wouldn’t be miserable at work tomorrow. Peggy turned to look at the dance floor before returning her attention to you, “ You know, maybe you should dance the dizzy away. It might help you sober up.” Your lips purse at her suggestion, noticing a certain blonde-haired blue-eyed super soldier returning from the bathroom.

 “ It's easy for you to say. You have a dance partner,” you motioned over to Steve. 

“ You would too if you would only go up and ask him,” she pointed out. 

You glanced at the dancing couples, “ No way. With the way that leech is clinging on to him—I’d never get one word in.”

She shrugged, “ You’ll never know until you try.” These were her parting words before Steve arrived at the table and escorted her onto the dance floor. You watched them, your head bopping along tiredly to the swing music. 

Maybe you should have stayed home. 

You almost didn’t come to the outing—being the third wheel to Peggy and Steve wasn’t exactly your ideal Thursday night fun. However, Peggy had mentioned Bucky would come along, and seeing as you hadn’t seen him in a few weeks due to conflicting schedules, you thought this would be the perfect opportunity to catch up. 

That was until the leech—a woman named Darla—decided to hog Bucky all night. Darla had been trying to get with Bucky for over a month now. You found this out tonight when Steve made a comment about it. Bucky hadn’t paid it much importance, so you thought it must have not been anything serious. However, right about the time you and Bucky were starting to catch up, Darla came over and dragged him away. 

Since then you’ve been inhaling martinis like your lungs preferred them over air. 

You couldn’t help the way your eyes drifted over to Bucky’s figure. Handsome as ever in his navy suit—your favorite color on him—and hair neatly combed. Watching as Darla threw herself at him with the courage that you lacked. Pulling him every which way on the dance floor, holding his hands to her hips in a tight grip. 

Your stomach contents were threatening to come up again. 

When did things get so complicated? You scratched at your brain for an answer. Spending time with Bucky had been so easy back at the military base where you met. You were stationed there in the medical unit caring for wounded and ill soldiers. During that time, you became great friends with Peggy and everyone on the Howling Commandos team. Bucky would frequently visit the medical unit even when he wasn’t sick or wounded. Sometimes you swore he would fake injuries or aches just to come and see you. Anytime he came in with something new he would refuse to see any other nurse but you.

It made you feel special. While other women were smitten with his charms and stumbled over seizing his attention—you had it without effort. You had so much more than just his attention without even trying. On hopeless nights he shared his fears, on days where the war seemed endless you eased his worries, and when he felt like the world was crashing down on him his heart spilled all vulnerabilities to you. 

You found refuge from the horrors of war in each other—a balm to each other’s wounds that went beyond the physical. In no time, something deeper for him bloomed within your heart. 

Ever since the war was over, however, things have been different. It’s been a couple of years and Steve and Bucky work alongside Peggy for the Strategic Scientific Reserve. Going on missions has become their norm, so seeing your friends is a rarity nowadays. 

You on the other hand were given a job at a children’s clinic in Brooklyn. You were grateful for this small piece of normality coming back to you. Treating smaller wounds on smaller bodies instead of lethal wounds during a relentless battle. Your senses are permanently burned with sights, sounds, and smells horrific enough to induce nightmares—and they do—managing to steal precious hours of sleep from you almost every night.

It was something you and Bucky especially bonded over.

“ May I have the honor of a dance, gorgeous?” A voice interrupted your thoughts. You looked up to meet a pair of unrecognizable hazel eyes. A handsome stranger stood in front of you, his hand outstretched for you to take. If you had but only one percentage less of alcohol in your system you would have declined his offer. This of course wasn’t the case, and not wanting to reminisce on more melancholy thoughts, you decided to listen to Peggy’s advice and dance the dizzy away.

Even if it wasn’t with the man you wanted to dance with.

“ You may,” you smiled at him, taking hold of his hand. Swiftly you were swept into the sea of couples on the dance floor. The handsome stranger—who you soon learn was named Thomas—was an impeccable dancer. With one hand holding yours, and the other holding you gently at your lower back, he spun you around the dance floor in rhythmic kicks and slides. Thomas’ energy was infectious and you couldn’t help but match his enthusiasm. 

After two dances your footwork and Thomas’ were practically synchronized. Thomas twirled you, causing a giggle to escape your lips. It seemed the alcohol was stubborn about staying in your system as the twirl caused the dizziness to come back—for a split second—making you trip over your own foot. Thomas caught you and steadied you, both of you laughing at your clumsiness. The carefreeness of it all lulled the ache in your heart.

Behind Thomas, you caught a glimpse of Peggy who was dancing as joyfully with Steve. Her eyes met yours and she sent you an encouraging smile. Soon after, her eyes drifted to something behind you, turning her smile into a smirk. You went back to dancing with Thomas, but manoeuvered around to get a look at what caused Peggy to smirk. Your heart did a little jump when you discovered she had been looking at Bucky and Darla, dancing a few feet from where you were. 

Correction. She had been staring at a Bucky you barely recognized. His jaw clenched and body rigid as he glared daggers at the back of Thomas’ head. Darla beside him looked snubbed, tugging on Bucky’s arm to get his attention. His tense demeanor didn’t move an inch no matter how much she protested. The pair were no longer dancing, merely standing in the sea of all the couples. This piqued your curiosity. 

Why had he stopped dancing? And to glare at Thomas of all things?

You didn’t have much time to think about it as Darla, clearly fed up by Bucky’s lack of attention, grabbed him by his arm and pulled him away from the dance floor. You swayed to and fro with Thomas, controlling the direction you were swinging in to try and not lose Bucky from your line of sight. 

Where was Darla taking him?

Your heart stopped when you realized where they were going. Darla was making a beeline for the back of the bar where the honey hallway was. The spot where all the couples went to have a little more privacy and fool around without having to leave the bar. If he was going there with Darla, then maybe things were more serious between them than you previously believed.

Your heart dropped to your stomach when reality sank in. 

You excused yourself from Thomas, scurrying away in need of some fresh air. He offered to follow along, but you declined wanting to be alone. You threw the entrance door open into the Brooklyn night as a sickly feeling spread throughout your body. 

You stepped into the street, the swing music fading into the background as the door closed behind you. You took in a deep breath, once again regretting the amount of alcohol you had consumed.

If you weren’t drunk seeing Bucky with someone else wouldn’t have hurt so much. It wouldn’t have knocked the air out of your lungs like it's doing now.

You know that’s a lie. That’s a damn lie you’re telling yourself to get you through the night. To give you the strength to focus on your surroundings and trudge home. 

You’d eventually do that. First, however, your body seemed to want to cling to a street lamp to bring the world back to you. The cold metal underneath your palms grounding you for a moment. The breeze blowing past you threading through your hair as if to comfort you.

“ Doll, everything alright?” Your heart stuttered when you heard his voice, the thud of the bar door closing following it. You shut your eyes and bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from saying or doing anything the liquid courage in your system was trying to wrestle out of you. 

You knew you needed to make a quick getaway. 

“ I’m fine. Just heading home,” you were straight to the point before turning to walk away. Not looking at him as you put one foot in front of the other—and then stumbled. 

Bucky caught you, his arms offering a strong support,“ Woah, Y/n, how much did you drink?” There was a slight annoyance in his tone. As if the mere thought of you having fun was preposterous. 

Or at least that’s how your tipsy state interpreted it.

“ Doesn’t matter. I can have a drink or two if I want to. I get to have fun too,” you retort, trying to push his arms away from your body. Your arms are no match for his, as he doesn’t budge an inch—on the contrary, his hold gets more firm. The world started to spin more, but at this point, whether it was because of the martinis or his proximity—you wouldn’t know. 

Bucky huffed and rolled his eyes,“ This isn’t having fun. This is going overboard,” he counters. His constant need to hold you steady and scold you for drinking irked the part of you that was already upset with him—fueling it more. Especially when you had the image of him heading to the honey hallway with Darla ingrained in your brain. And his arms, the ones around you now, swinging her around on the dancefloor. 

There was something dark bubbling an envious brew within you. 

“ Why do you give a damn?” you snap out harshly. He stills at your tone and it's enough to shake his hold off of you. You force yourself to look at him. Intending to shoot him an annoyed glare. Something to convey what your heart felt when your words failed to—but when your eyes met his you froze. 

They were dark—virtually stormy—and yet, there was a hint of pain in them. Almost as if you had kicked him, but he was toughing it out.

“ What was that about?” He finally spoke after what seemed like too long. 

“ What was what about?” You feigned innocence. 

His eyes got darker, a disapproving half smile on his face,“ Don’t play coy. I come out here to check on you. You’re stumbling like a drunk fool. I try to help and you snap at me?” 

“ I didn’t ask you to,” you’re quick with your dismissal.

“ You…unbelievable…” Bucky lets out a scoff, not knowing how to respond. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into you. In his mind, you’re simply too drunk to regulate yourself. He doesn’t know the vile jealousy that bubbles in the pit of your stomach and gnaws at your heart. He doesn’t know the intense battle your emotions are having with your brain—right in front of him—to stay silent before you truly say something you cannot take back. 

“ Go back inside. I’m heading home,” you say simply, not wanting to dwell on this conversation any longer. You feared what might come of it if you didn’t.

“ No. I'm walking you home,” he shakes his head firmly, his tone matching in conviction. 

“ No, you're not,” you reply, turning to make your way down the boulevard. Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose, “ Like hell I'm not, doll. I'm not letting you walk home alone.” 

“I'm not letting you walk me home. I don't want you to,” you say adamantly as your feet start moving. Bucky is right beside you as they do, not letting you get away,“ I don't care what you want or don't want. I'm walking you home and that's final.” His voice leaves no room for argument. 

The martinis in your system don’t particularly give a damn, but it is enough to quiet you for the time being. Your speed increases slightly, but Bucky can match it easily. For a moment you consider running—as ridiculous as an idea that may be. 

The sharp patter of your footsteps against the pavement synchronizes with the thudding of his as they mingle down the boulevard. The city sounds around you are an otherwise low hum of the occasional car and distant conversation. The city still whispering its signs of life at this time of night.

The walk to your place isn’t too far. And you know if you don’t shake him off soon there would be an unpleasant conversation awaiting you when you arrive.  

“ Don’t you have someone waiting on you at the bar?” You remind him with a little sting to your heart. Secretly hoping this wasn’t the reason he’d walk away from you.

Bucky frowns, thinking for a moment before speaking,“ What? You mean Darla?” The sound of her name on his lips bristles you. 

“ Yeah, her,” the word her spills from your lips as if it was venomous. Bucky catches that and is taken aback for a second. His footsteps coming to a stop. You push yourself to keep walking. Taking this as a sign to ignore the tiny part of your brain that begs you to stop moving.

Not a minute later Bucky strides to your side,“ Doll…are you jealous?” He asks with the tiniest bit of doubt, his small smile overshadowing it. 

“ Me? Ha! No,” your denial is quick—too quick. His small smile turns into a wide grin. You’ve just confirmed his conjecture,“ Yes, you are.” 

“ No. Go ahead and marry her for all I care. I won’t be at the wedding anyway,” you don’t mean what you say and yet you said it anyway. Playing up the indifference act you’ve dawned. 

“ You won’t be at my wedding?” He’s not upset when he responds, he's amused. He has to hold back his laughter at your train of thought. This gets under your skin and you grumble a snippy no before picking up your pace. You’re now imagining Darla in a wedding dress next to Bucky in his suit and it does devastating things to you. 

“ That’s impossible.”

“ How so? I just won’t go.”

His tone takes a more serious turn when he replies, “ It’ll be hard to have a wedding without the bride there.” You come to a halt, your head whipping so fast to look at him you almost gave yourself whiplash.

“ What?” You manage to find your voice. His gaze softens,“ You heard me, doll.” He’s being completely sincere—you know this deep down. However, there’s still a part of you that doesn’t believe this is happening. That believes this to be a dream.

“ You don’t mean that.”

“ I do. If you were to ask me where I see forever—I see it with you.”

His confession takes your breath away. The mere admission of him thinking of you as his eternity—as the one he wants beside him for life—your heart could burst at how delightfully overwhelmed it feels. 

“ But you—” you start and his pointer finger gently presses against your lips to shush you. He already knows what you’re about to bring up and he needs to nip it before your drunken mind jumps to wilder conclusions.

“ She’s just a friend. She’s a secretary at the SSR—nothing more. I was dancing with her to be nice. Honestly, I was trying to find a polite way to leave her and get back to you until I saw you dancing with that guy,” he removes his finger from your lips once he’s done explaining. At the mention of Thomas, his jaw clenches briefly and annoyance flashes in his eyes. 

It dawns on you why he was glaring at Thomas earlier. The realization of Bucky having felt as jealous as you did sends your heart ablaze. Your heart had gone through so much tonight, you were surprised it hadn’t gone into cardiac arrest already. 

“ Who’s the jealous one now?” you tease, an almost giddy smile on your face. 

Bucky rolls his eyes playfully,“ Yeah, doll. Unlike you, I’ll admit it. I was jealous. I don’t like seeing you with another man. Laughing and dancing—should've been me, not him,” he says stepping closer to you. His eyes reflected pure adoration.

“ Why didn’t you ask me?” your question comes out quieter than you’d like. Enamored with the way he’s looking at you. You can barely focus on anything else. 

“ Because when it comes to you I get all nervous and worked up. It's like I’m a punk again—a dumb kid with a crush. I don’t want to mess it up with you, Y/n. I would never want to do anything to lose you. Guess I got too caught up in doing things right I didn’t do anything at all,” Bucky opens up to you, his answer shedding away any last bit of hesitance in your body.

“ Bucky…I wish it would’ve been you instead too,” you say softly, stepping closer until you’re only a few inches away from him. His features match yours in fondness as he gently reaches out to grab hold of your waist, pulling you even closer, and closing the final bit of distance between you.

Your hands rest delicately at his chest. You can feel the way his heart races under your fingertips, drawing out a small gasp from you. Knowing you had this effect on him delighted you. It made you wonder how long you had been making him feel this way—and how long you had missed the signs.

“ Told you. I’m a dumb kid with a crush,” he reiterates with a soft chuckle. You giggle at his words, beaming dreamily at the way that all of this is real. That Bucky has feelings for you, and you two can only grow closer from here on out.

For a split second his eyes dart to your mouth. Having you so close like this tempts Bucky to no end. Everything he’s ever wanted to do with you crosses his mind and it drives him crazy. He has no idea where to start or if he’ll even let himself start anywhere. 

Your body thrums with anticipation as it waits for him to make a move.  

Bucky ends up tenderly kissing your forehead, “ Come on, doll. Let’s get you home.” Your lips form a light pout, disappointed his lips didn’t touch yours. He sees your reaction and he laughs, giving your hips a light squeeze, “ Doll, our first kiss will happen after you get that alcohol out of your system,” he says, one hand reaching up to lightly swipe at your nose—finding you endearing. 

“ We’ve already had our first kiss.” 

“ Doll we—oh, we have…” 

The memory of you two drunkenly kissing in the medical tent on one particularly lonely night during the war flashes through your minds. The already tension between you rising to a palpable form. 

There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes,“ Still. If I’m being honest, I’m not stopping at just one kiss. So let’s wait until you’re sober, alright?”

“ Not stopping?” Your tone is playful as you pry for further explanation. 

“ Oh no, doll. I'll be doing so much more than kissing you,” he smirks, his words laced with suggestion. His hand goes out to cup your face, caressing your cheek. It warms under his fingertips at his implication. The air around you buzzes with electricity. 

He can tell where your mind went and he’s enjoying every second of it,“ Yeah, doll. Like taking you out on a proper date,” he winks at you. A genuine laugh erupts from you at the way he side steps what he really meant. He joins you in the laughter, his eyes telling you the truth of what he really desires.

You. Every bit of you.

You interlace your fingers with his, knowing deep down he has a point. When you kiss Bucky you want to be all there. You want all your senses to be fully awake to drink in every bit of him. 

Especially if it goes farther than a kiss.

Bucky moves you over so he’s walking on the outermost part of the sidewalk, holding your interlaced hands to his waist so you’re pressed right up against his side as you walk. You tease and playfully banter all the way to your apartment. The unspoken promises and unmistakable yearning for one another dancing around you two. Assuring you there was so much more to come. 

[unlosts]

is it casual now?

prompt: “i’ve never noticed how nice your voice sounds up close.”

1.5k words

_

There are many things you shouldn’t do in the BAU, you shouldn’t talk to Spencer about astrology unless you want a 46 (yes counted) minute lecture on the impossibility of the stars to predict your personality (funnily enough what a Virgo going through his Saturn return would do, but you thought it best to keep that one to yourself). 

You shouldn’t ignore JJ when she’s showing you cute Herny pictures even though she has in fact shown you those exact same ones about 4 times before. 

You shouldn’t invite Hotch to go for drink after a case, but that’s mostly because thats’s been - statistically speaking - a waste of everyone's time.

And above all you should not go drink for drink with Emily Prentiss, no matter how much she dares you to. 

But seeing as you were able to read Spencer his horoscope, JJ kept it to only two pictures today and Hotch did, in fact, agree to go out with all of you. You decided that it was a good enough night to tempt fate. 

Like Icarus you flew too close to the sun only to crash and burn. 

Only you crashed and burned into the back of your boss's car.

The five Cuba Libres you drank sat heavy on you, but at that moment you thought that the thing really making you dizzy was Hotch sitting next to you. His profile illuminated by the passing lights, occasionally tinted red by the streetlights. You wanted to reach out and touch his face, see if the color bleed into your hands. 

Old movie star handsome turned technicolor. 

You rested your head back in the passenger seat, closing your eyes for one moment only to feel his hand on your leg softly shaking you awake. 

“C’mon, don’t fall asleep yet, we’re almost there” Despite his words he spoke softly, and you couldn’t help but think that he never sounds like this at work. 

“I’ve never noticed how nice your voice sounds up close.” It seemed your words took him by surprise as much as they did you because he kept his hand right there on your thigh as he drove.  

But a lot of things could be blamed on your blood-alcohol level so there was not much to lose now. 

“Yeah you usually sound very strict but that’s the voice you use when you talk to Jack, it’s nice, a little less deep but … soft yknow?” 

“I..” He seemed caught between looking at the road and wanting to keep looking at you “I never thought about that” 

“That’s okay” you said right before a yawn cut you off “I notice you plenty for the both of us” 

“You do?” He asks tentatively as he pulls into your apartment complex. 

“Oh yeah” You reply smiling back at him, daring him to ask for more. 

“Like what?” His tone is hushed, a little shy in a way you only dreamed of hearing. 

“hmmm” you pretend to think, if only to extend the moment, and also quite distracted by his hands on the steering wheel as he parked, the loss of his hand on your leg a minor price to pay. 

“You always take your coffee black but that’s only because it’s easier when in reality you like it better with a splash of milk and two sugars “

As you spoke you both leaned closer and closer to each other.   

“You pretend you don’t have time to hear Pen describe in detail each episode of the Bachelor, but you take an abnormally long time heating up your lunch every time she’s doing it” 

“Oh” you whisper “and you wanna kiss me real bad right now”

“I do?” he asked just as hushed, as if afraid that if he speaks any louder you’ll realize what you’re saying and stop.

“Oh yeah, actually ever since my like fifth case when I told that detective to fuck off and you preteneded to be mad at me for it” 

“Well, It seems profiling is your calling after all” 

“You do only hire the best of the best” Right as you’re done speaking he leans over and kisses you. 

The bubbles from the rum and coke just as fizzy on your tongue, and making you feel just as drunk. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer, crowding yourself against the passengers side door. His hands roaming your back and messing up your hair. 

The feeling of him above you all encompassing, the cedar and vetiver smell of his cologne and the warm strong muscles of his shoulders under your hands moving as one of his hands reached up to the back of your neck making you dizzy. 

You wanted to live right in this moment as long as you could. 

“Wait” Hotch said as he pulled away for a moment, panting and out of breath, lips red and tie askew making you want to pull him back “I didn’t want to do it like this” while he spoke you pressed one kiss against the side of his neck which seemed to render him speechless for a moment, his eyes closed before he kept going.  

“I wanted to ask you out and kiss you at the end of the night, in your doorstep, not“ he said pointedly, bringing back his unit chief voice ”the car.” 

“Well” you sighed “if you insist on cutting the night short” 

“I do, but just this once” He replied with a small crooked smile. 

“Fine, but quit smiling like that or we’ll be here a while” 

“Duly noted” 

He still insisted on walking you to your door, all the way up to the third floor. His coat over your shoulders at his insistence to keep the chill away gave you the chance to press the collar. 

At your door you took off his jacket to give back but when you extended it to him he just kept his hands in his pockets, instead of taking it. 

“Keep it and give it back to me tomorrow”

“Tomorrow?” 

“Yes, tomorrow at dinner, after you’ve had the chance to sleep off the hangover I’m going to pick you up and take you to dinner” 

“Couldn’t resist waiting another day huh?” 

Hotch just laughed a little and looked back at you. He lingered on your doorstep looking at you and you decided to cut it short before he had to take you out for breakfast instead. 

“See you tomorrow Hotchner” 

[11cupids-tarot11]

A Letter From Your Future Spouse

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1 -> 4

Cupid's Services Cupid's Master List Socials

Tips appreciated!

C@sh app and P@ypal only!

$minnieplant3

@janellec03

LOVE U

- Cupid 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪.

︻デ═一 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Pile 1- Four of Wands, The Fool, Page of Swords, Nine of Cups, Page of Wands, The Wheel of Fortune.

"Hi you! I've been sleeping a lot, can't seem to do anything else lately because of how tired I've been. Finally. I can sleep as much as I want to now because of a situation that just so happened to end recently. Death.

What now? See, I've been wondering the same thing. But let's not even worry about it, let's just sleep as much as we want to because we finally can, even if it's only a little nap time out of your day do it because I gotta see you one last time later, I've got a message for you in your dreams. Spirit will tell you, don't worry about missing it or when <3

Resting so much so when I do have to work, you know, find that balance again between work and fun, I can focus on what's so important to me a lot better, I mean really give it my all... You know? Lol

Sorry, I dream a lot, you might notice my head is always in the clouds. I have very air energy like a Gemini.

Things are finally clearing up for me! I feel at peace, maybe we mirror each other and things are also getting better for you too? You have to let me know, okay? I feel like I can finally breathe again, be optimistic without being scared the rug is going to get snatched from underneath.

I've been working so so hard on my craft, putting in so much love and effort into my work and I feel really hopeful that all of my productivity will pay off soon, consistency is key, right?

I really like the color yellow, 😄 talk again soon!"

Hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to do the poll below 👇🏾 ✨

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Pile 2- Knight of Wands, I forgot to write down the rest of the cards I'm so sorry 😞

"I have no problem with putting in hard work for anything I want, even you, you know? If you don't want me the moment we catch eyes I'll make you ;)

The moment I catch you I'm going to make sure I never stop loving you, I'll make sure every day is beautiful, even on our bad days we'll kiss each other good night before bed still. I love you!

Why do you keep worrying yourself? All of that doubt in that pretty little head of yours isn't good, you should lay it all to rest before you make yourself sick baby. Sleep more, practice some self care before you run yourself crazy, okay?

I'm so proud of you, you know, for whatever amazing things you've accomplished lately. I believe in you, I'll always be your #1 cheerleader!

You should go out and celebrate! Enjoy the sun, you deserve it my angel! Promise me you won't let this go by like it's just not that big and you'll go out and do something? Pinky promise?

Stay focused! You're on the right path, you're doing amazing! I promise you, all of this will be worth it, it's worth our future 💓 keep going, I know you can do it! 🎉"

Hope you enjoy!!☺️ Don't forget to do the poll below!!

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Pile 3- Queen of Cups, Justice, Four of Cups, The Moon, Three of Swords, The Star.

" Hi my love, you know I don't talk a lot haha, so I'll make this quick as usual and get out of your hair so you can go on.

I just want to remind you, you're my queen, my favorite, my whole world ❤️ I think red looks really pretty on you btw but anyway, I love and miss you like crazy at times like these.

I am going through something right now, a legal situation, a situation I wish would come to an end right now because it's so heavy on me, it's hurting me but I know at the same time it's happening to me because it's part of my karma, something that's forcing me to look so closely at myself, at every shadow because I think it leads me to you. My everything. We're going to get married, I'm so sure of it.

I'm keeping hope alive, I'm hanging on to every thread of it I've got. I'm working on everything right now, I'll catch up with you soon sweetheart 💋 I'm going to kiss you when I do, you won't be able to get rid of me. ;) "

Hope you enjoy! Don't forget to do the poll below!!

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Pile 4- Ace of Cups, The Hanged Man, King of Wands, Nine of Cups, Knight of Cups, Nine of Wands.

"I want to come to you with amazing news but I can't, I'm sorry to say, I've taken a turn for the worst right now. Don't worry, it's temporary.

I am slowly building myself back up, that's what I'm doing right now if you're wondering what I've been doing all this time. I'm healing day by day and I hope you are too sweetheart. I might be a bit stuck and tangled up right now, but I'm clearing through it!

I'm the kind of guy who will pursue you with nothing but kindness until I make you fall for me with your charm, I'm cute, I know I am, you'll love me, I have curly light hair, and a really cute smile. You'll think I'm so adorable.

I want to offer my heart to you, fully, 100%. You have me, all of me as long as you give me you in return, I hope you do, I can't be without you once I know you.

Take care my love ❤️."

Hope you enjoyed ❤️ Don't forget to do the poll below!!

[irisintheafterglow]

More Than It Seams (Chapter 1)

summary: you're a hero costume tech working for one of the biggest fashion companies in quirk society, and the days until the most important fashion event of the year are dwindling fast. if you weren't stressed enough, a certain half-and-half hero keeps appearing with rips in his suit. (pro!todoroki x reader)

word count: 3k

cw/tags: swearing, mentions of needles, probably inaccurate fashion design vocabulary, strangers to lovers, no specified pronouns for reader

note: aaaaa ok first chapter of my first series. hope you enjoy!! i'm planning on this to be five chapters, and the second chapter I'm planning to release this friday. i <3 shoto todoroki

likes/reblogs/feedback are always appreciated!!!

She couldn’t be serious. You shake your head as if to reset your eyeballs and read over the two scribbled cursive sentences over and over until the reality of your situation set in. 

Hey, not gonna be in starting today for maternity leave. Don’t disappoint me. Xo, M 

You counted the days on your fingers and groaned, dragging a palm down the front of your face. 7:00 A.M was too early to find out you had to run a multi-million dollar business that wouldn’t hesitate to fire you if you disappointed at the most important fashion event of the year. The coffee maker beeped its readiness right on cue, and you debated making two cups instead of just one. You settled for one but left out a cup with your name on it for a possible second, and plopped down at your station. The sun was just starting to shine through the glass walls of the building you called your office, an odd combination of exposed brick walls and floor-to-ceiling windows. Crooked rows of work tables lined up on one side of the expansive area, with several dozen mannequins and rolls of fabric occupying the other side. A long counter separated the work area from the sitting area, where clients waited for their fittings on plush couches and sipped on complimentary sparkling drinks that M paid for instead of giving her workers a raise. 

“G’morning!” The other designer for the company swung open the gate allowing access between the work area and the sitting area, deflating when he saw you throw your head down on your desk in frustration and slam it a few times for good measure. “Or not…” A loud gasp of shock indicated to you that he had read the note, and a long string of expletives left his mouth as you lifted your head and nodded. “She has to be joking.”

You clicked your tongue in agreement. “She is not.” 

“HB’s in two weeks, and she decides now is a good time to have her baby?”

“If it were up to me, she wouldn’t even be the head of this place, or having another baby. God knows we don’t need any more of her.” Your coworker scoffs in disbelief, throwing his bag down on his desk and wheeling over a mannequin. “Hey, did you finish working up that fabric design for Cellophane’s suit? He’s supposed to come in on Friday and I think it’d be smart to have a sample of the fabric ready so he can tell us if he doesn’t like it.” 

“Yep, I’ll have that over to you ASAP. You don’t need to remind me what happened last year with Dynamight two days before the Ball.” 

You cringed at the memory of the Number Two Hero burning your work to ashes right in front of you and telling you to get a color that matched his eyes better. To be fair, the color that his stylist had chosen clashed with his skin tone and you respected Bakugo for recognizing that, but he could have given you back the suit to use as scrap fabric. “It’s the price of working with the best.” 

“You mean for the best,” he corrects, giving you a grouchy look before switching on his machine and beginning to hem the miles of fabric for Creati’s dress. You’d asked him if he wanted you to hem the fabric since your quirk would have it done by lunch, but he declined and said that you should focus on designing the remaining heroes’ pieces. The rest of your seamstresses trickled in as the morning progressed, filing into their stations with a polite “good morning” and picking up their scissors. Soon, the office milled with the familiar sounds of cutting fabric, sewing machines, and rolling mannequins, and you spaced out as you sketched your idea for Pinky’s updated costume. 

At 11:30, your receptionist sitting at the counter slammed down the phone in alarm, startling the entire room into silence. Her face was nothing short of panic, and you rose quickly from your station to pull her into a corner and figure out why she looked like she had received a bomb threat. 

“What’s going on?”

“Shoto is here.”

“Who?”

“Shoto. The pro hero. Is here,” she hisses at you through her teeth, her hands shaking with uncontrollable anxiety. 

You blinked at her. “Okay… and?” Pros showing up to the office themselves rather than sending assistants was uncommon but had been done numerous times before. Deku and Creati tended to visit a few times a month, and Pinky liked to stop by on Fridays to treat her favorite staff to ice cream. It was Shoto’s first time appearing in person, as he usually sent an assistant to drop off what was essentially his laundry; you’d always assumed that being a top-ranked hero controlling large sums of inheritance was just too busy to worry about his costume. Still, a customer visiting the office in person, no matter how attractive they were, was the least of your laundry list of problems.  

Your receptionist stares at you like you’ve sprouted three heads, and addresses you with an attitude that would have had her fired if M was in office. “What the hell do you mean ‘and’? It’s Shoto… the Number Three Hero. ProMagazine’s #1 ranked hottie.” 

“I’m aware,” you state a little impatiently, annoyed by her insistence that this was much more significant than it actually was. “I’m struggling to understand the fuss over just another client–” 

A chorus of shocked excitement washed over your staff as the elevator doors dinged and a lean, well-dressed silhouette entered the office. Several of your seamstresses had stood from their chairs and huddled together for moral support, whispering to each other about the stranger who had exited the elevator. Your receptionist’s eyes widen to the size of dollar coins, her hands coming up to your shoulders to push you toward the counter as she disappeared behind rolls of fabric. You rolled your eyes and took a breath, adjusting the measuring tape around your neck and meeting Shoto as he approached the vacant receptionist’s computer. His voice was polite and soft when he spoke, and you swear you hear your workers swooning behind you. 

“Hello, I’m here to drop these items off for repair,” he states, gently placing a small stack of folded fabric on the counter in front of you. You couldn’t help but notice how pretty his hands were, and how one ran through his two-toned hair, combing it with elegant fingers. His eyes were each an enchanting shade of blue and grey, and you found it hard to break eye contact with him. ProMagazine was definitely correct.

“Great, I’ll, uh, have this ready in just a bit,” you reply, gesturing towards the waiting area and encouraging Shoto to have a seat. Taking a deep breath in and out and shooting your staff a stern look to get back to work, you unfold the tattered costume on a nearby station behind the counter. His suit wasn’t in the worst condition, but the tears on the arms and chest area posed a significant safety hazard, especially if they continued to open. As hot as it would be to have muscle windows in Shoto’s suit, it’d reflect badly on you if you’d refused to repair the costume for the sake of professionally shot ab photos. 

After another steadying breath, you visualize a sewing machine dial in your mind, picking up a spool of strong nylon thread and running your thumb over the torn pieces of fabric; like clockwork, it repaired itself with a neat straight stitch wherever you touched. Your quirk is why M hired you in the first place since you could assemble three pieces in the time it took a machine to do one. You couldn’t send sheets of fabric flying like Best Jeanist, but your ability to telekinetically manipulate thread into stitches proved useful for a career in fashion design. With a few more reinforcement stitches to some worn edges and a quick polish of the suit’s buckles, Shoto’s costume was good as new. 

“Here you go; you’re all set.” He turns to look at you, surprised and preoccupied with examining the large posters of costumes M’s company had designed. Frames of initial sketches for his first professional costume were flanked by life-size prints of Pinky, Deku, and Red Riot’s attire. A plaque engraved with Creati’s endorsement message for the company hung in the center, surrounded by fabric swatches and Post-It notes scribbled with measurements. It looked like he had just finished reading through Creati’s statement when you informed him that his suit was ready. “I went ahead and cleaned off some of the grime from the suit’s hardware and sprayed it with anti-rust so it shouldn’t be tarnishing any time soon.” 

Shoto looks at you with an expression that you can’t read, gazes down at the repaired suit in front of him, and then back up at you. “Oh. That’s it?”

You release a slightly nervous chuckle to try to ease some of the awkwardness that had settled between you two. “Uh, yep. That’s it.” After another painfully quiet beat, your customer service persona finally kicks back into gear. “Is there anything else I can assist you with today?” 

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, it was a pleasure working with you today–”

“How does your quirk work?” His question arrives completely out of left field, and your brain short-circuits at his genuine expression of interest in your abilities. 

“Well, um, I can manipulate thread to follow certain stitch patterns, like the stitch selection on a sewing machine. See, like, here.” You point at one of the newly repaired tears in his costume, running a finger over the fresh seam. You’re keenly aware of how his eyes follow your finger and you attempt to keep your voice even. “I mended this panel of fabric torn down the middle with a straight stitch, which is the sturdiest stitch I can create.” 

“So you wave your hands and the threads start moving?” The boyish cluelessness on his face makes your heart flutter. A smile breaks its way into your expression. 

“I wish, but I actually have to be touching the fabric.” 

“I suppose it’s very useful for a fashion designer, then.” His face is carefully put together, but the tiniest hint of sarcasm bleeds its way into his voice. Was he… joking with you? 

“Definitely. I’m essentially a human sewing machine but without needles sprouting from my thumbs.” Your thumb pops up on its own accord for added effect, but then you realize what you just said and shove your hand back in an apron pocket. It was meant as a joke, but the macabre nature of your last quip slips your mind and a part of you dies inside when Shoto physically cringes at the grotesque image. Before you have the chance to apologize for such a distressing remark, he politely nods his head in farewell and gives you a soft “thank you” before returning to the elevator. 

Releasing a frustrated noise from your throat at the fact that you just scared off Todoroki Shoto, you lay your forehead on the counter between your elbows. The elevator button dings, and to your horror, you realize that he hadn’t left the office yet. Instead, he was looking at you amusedly over his toned shoulder. The corner of his mouth quirks up the tiniest bit as he watches your burning face attempt to regain its composure, and then he’s gone. 

“That was a shit show,” your other designer mutters under his breath, handing you another cup of coffee. 

Tuesday morning at 11:30 on the dot, Shoto visits again and catches your receptionist off guard, reducing her to a puddle of “How can I help you?” and “Can I get you a sparkling drink?” With your back turned to the doors, you don’t notice him immediately as you concentrate on draping expensive maroon fabric around Creati’s mannequin. Eyebrows drawn in concentration and holding a pin between your teeth, your hands work meticulously to create perfect pleats under the waistline of the bodice. It isn’t until your receptionist nervously calls out your name that you abruptly drop the fabric, Shoto’s mouth twitching as he watches you hurriedly place your box of pins on a nearby station and approach the counter. You lightly tap your receptionist’s shoulder, snapping her out of her daze to find Shoto a drink that you knew was out of stock and leaving you two alone again. 

“Shoto, it’s a pleasure to see you.” You try to mask the unease in your voice with a forced smile. “What can I help you with today?”

His face is blank, but his eyes shine like he’s analyzing you. “I ripped the suit again.”

Your face falls in comical disbelief. “Again?”

He shrugs. “I guess I need stronger stitches.” His heterochromatic eyes stare into yours, and you meet his challenge with a slight squint. 

“Guess you do.” You take the folded suit from his hands and drop the volume of your voice. “Or maybe you need to stop tearing my work.”

He huffs out a breath that sounds like a choked laugh and you smile innocently at him, hoping this interaction replaced the awkwardness of yesterday. Your hand gestures to the seating area again, but he shakes his head, instead crossing his muscular arms and watching you intently as you work. The damage to his suit could barely be considered a tear, and you don’t even bother using your quirk to repair it. You feel him staring at you as you easily patch up the suit with a backstitch, and you swear you could hear him hum thoughtfully behind you. Minutes after he entered the office, you slide the garment back to him with a satisfied smile. 

He does that thing again, looking at you, down at his suit, then back at you. “You didn’t use your quirk.” 

It was your turn to shrug. “Didn’t need to.” As entertaining as his presence was, it would have taken longer to repair it with your quirk, and you had three mannequins of patterns demanding your immediate attention. “Is there anything else I can assist you with today?”

Shoto dodges your question, instead scanning the seamstresses at their work areas trying not to stare at him. “You’re awfully good at getting people in and out.” One eyebrow quirks in question. He’s testing you, silently asking whether you were trying to get rid of him quickly. 

“With all due respect, a rip on a Pro’s suit is the least of my worries right now.” 

“What are the most of your worries?” You direct his attention to the three mannequins behind you, covered in multi-colored pins and beige pattern panels. “Red Riot, Pinky, and Cellophane’s Ball outfits. Need to have them done by next Friday, and I was just in the middle of pleating the skirt of Momo’s dress. It’s taking a lot longer than expected because I tragically only have two hands.” 

Shoto’s mouth opens in an ah of realization, taking in the elaborate construction plan of the layered asymmetrical gown. You couldn’t have predicted his reply to save your life. 

“May I help you?”

Your mind halts the production of coherent thoughts. “Oh, no, really. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” 

“Why not?”

“It’s not your job.”

“But there is something I can help with.”

“I mean, yes, but–”

“Then please, show me what to do.” You decide that it would be pointless to fight his stubborn determination, so you try not to notice the gasps from your staff as Shoto pushes open the gate into the work area and stands beside Creati’s mannequin. You knelt into the same position as before, sitting back on your heels as you searched for the last pleat you made. 

“So I just need you to hold the fabric in place so that it doesn’t unfold, like this,” you direct, scrunching the edge into a carefully measured fold. He watches you diligently, allowing you to reposition his hands so that you could effectively create a seam. His hands were soft beneath your fingers as you brushed veins and lean muscle. You push away the thought of what else he could do with his hands, refocusing on your work and delicately rotating the mannequin as you made your way around its waist. To your surprise, Shoto made soft conversation with you, asking about other Pros’ looks and the design inspiration behind them. Small talk flowed easily as you worked, and he proved to be much more witty than interviews captured. 

When you finished, Shoto ran his finger over the pleats you had just made in admiration. A glance at the rest of the mannequins leads to his expression becoming puzzled. “Where is mine?” He offers an open hand to you as you rise from the floor, and you revel in the cool touch of his palm against your tired thumb. 

You open your mouth to reply, but no words come out. The truth was, his stylist had ordered a simple black suit for him, barely different than the suit he wore the previous year and all of the years prior. Shoto’s media reputation had him notorious for attending as few public events as possible, and donning safe solid-colored suits when he did appear. His eyebrows rise in anticipation of your answer, still holding your hand, and you finally conjure up an explanation. “Well, technically, your look is already finished. It was one of the first looks we finished because of its simplicity.” 

“Simplicity?” He releases your hand, flexing his fingers like he was squeezing a stress ball. Shit, were your hands sweaty?

“Yeah, your stylist tends to request subdued designs for public appearances.”

A low hum is all you receive in acknowledgment, and a look of deep thought washes over his handsome expression. 

“Maybe I will aim for a different design this year, then.” 

And just the same as Monday, he nods farewell before heading back to the elevator, leaving you frozen by the mannequin. A split second before the doors slide open, he gives you a mischievous look and a single thumbs-up, a reminder of the embarrassing interaction from the day before. You roll your eyes at him and are delighted to see the corner of his mouth turn up again.   

The elevator doors shut, and you can’t help hoping he creates another tear in his suit for tomorrow.

[winniemaywebber]

The Apple Tree • part 2 🌳

2/7

read chapter one here

It's rainy in Thorpe Abbotts. Six planes go up, only five come back. Y/N worries about Rosie.

A familiar rumble distracts the class from their work, the scratching sound of pencils on paper ceasing almost immediately. Today, they had been sheltered from the graying drizzle of the village, much to their discernment. One look at their sad little faces pulled at your heartstrings, and the words “go on, then” had barely left your smiling mouth when they had all rushed to their cubbies to pull on their raincoats to protect themselves from the horrific weather. 

Six had gone up, according to the second teacher down the hall who had happened to be on a tea break when she saw the planes ascend. You hadn't told your class the number, not wanting to potentially make their miserable day worse. You wondered if the weather had affected anything - whether the thick, black clouds full of raucous thunder  had blocked their vision, the harsh wind causing them to break out of formation and bringing danger to themselves. And, in the back of your mind, you wondered about Rosie, hoping that he was safe.

It had been a couple of days since your last meeting, wherein you'd seen him taking a walk alone around Thorpe Abbotts, you spotting him as you rode home on your bike. You had waved nervously, precariously taking a hand off one of your handlebars to do so. Even from the opposite side of the road, you saw his face make a huge, beautiful smile, his baby blue eyes twinkling at the sight of you.

“Hi, Y/N. Wonderful to see you again.”

“Rosie,” you'd replied, your mouth also instantly bearing a grin at seeing him. “You, too. How was your weekend?”

“Ah, nothing special. I flew a practice mission, came back and wrote my mom. I try to keep her updated, she worries about me so, especially with me being so far away.”

“Oh, I understand. That's very sweet,” your heart melting at a man caring so much for his family. There is a pause as you keep smiling sweetly at one another, stuck for words due to being so excited at seeing each other again.

“So,” he breaks the silence. “Are you headed home?”

“Yes,” you sigh. “It's been a long day. It wasn't sunny enough to let the children play outside, and being cooped up drives them mad!” You laugh, hoping to diffuse the butterflies rising up in your stomach as he begins to offer to wheel your bike home so you can walk alongside him. 

“I can imagine!” He responds, once again smiling in your direction as his eyes dart around, trying to get his bearings. A crack of thunder from above distracts him, his shoulders sagging with a sigh. 

“We'd better hurry you home, ma'am.” 

Running through the rain, you arrive at the cottage quick as a flash. “Come in and warm up by the fire,” you shout over the loud pattering of raindrops on your slate doorstep, both of you sheltering under the front door canopy. 

“I'd love to, but I gotta get back to base. We have a briefing in the morning and I should get some rest.”

“Oh, of course. Well, thank you for walking me home again. You're great company.”

“You too, ma'am,” he smiles, exhaling through his nose with a slight giggle. “Are you doing anything Thursday afternoon?”

“No, I'm not,” you reply, the fastest answer that's ever left your lips. “I leave the school at around 2pm. You could meet me there? I could show you around a little. Bring your bike!”

“Oh, er–” he stutters, face turning red with embarrassment. “I haven't quite got to grips with that thing yet.” You try your best to stifle a giggle, shaking your head.

“I've heard you're the best pilot in the Army Air Force and you can't ride a bike?” You wink at him jokingly, his face now a cute shade of pink. 

“Leave me alone, Y/N,” he pokes at you, his face however, still holding that beautiful smile. 

“I'll teach you…if you'd like,” you say with a shrug. He nods, the color of his cheeks returning to normal. He reaches over and softly kisses your cheek, your hand coming up to touch it as soon as his lips break contact. 

“Miss, I saw five come back,” Penelope says in a small voice. “How many were there?” Feeling your heart jump to your throat and your breathing become ragged, you try your best to maintain composure. 

“I believe it was five, little one,” you respond, gritting your teeth into a reassuring smile. “Mrs Meldrum said five, but she was nose deep in the biscuit tin at the time. I'll ask her later, okay?” The wide eyed little girl nods and rushes back to her seat, pushing her round glasses up her nose as she sits down, once again ready to learn. 

Getting through the rest of the day without making your unease obvious is an arduous task. Every time you think of Rosie, you feel your heart almost stop, feeling like a phantom hand has its grip around it, crushing it bit by bit. You find yourself taking a moment while the children are distracted to place a hand on your chest, willing your breathing to return to its usual pace, arguing with yourself for feeling so anxious over somebody you've met only twice. 

To your surprise, you see your friend Sally outside as you corral the children out the door for home time, zipping coats and tying shoe laces as they rush out of the door into the cold drizzle. She's stood in a yellow rain coat, a black umbrella swaying slightly in the breeze.

“Sally?” You call. “Come in, doll.” A look of concern etched on your face, she runs in, dismantling her umbrella, a sob catching in her throat as she runs past you into the schoolroom. 

“Oh, Y/N,” she wails, her pretty face crumpled. Her eyes are squeezed shut, black inky trails from her mascara shooting down her face. “Only five–” she stutters, before taking a deep breath to try and compose herself. “Only five came back…and–and I don't know if James…”

“Hey, Sal,” you murmur, pulling her into a tight hug, her wet raincoat against your skin causing you to shiver suddenly. “It's all going to be okay, just–” you pause, a hand on her cheek now. “Just be patient. He'll be knocking on your door tomorrow.” She nods, a small sob escaping her lips as she wipes her eyes. You hand her a small white handkerchief, embroidered with your initials. This seems to make her cry all the more. 

“I still have the one your Granny made me,” she says as she dabs away the mascara lines. “Maybe I should start carrying it again.” You titter, exhaling as you do so. 

“She gave them to us when we were, what, six?” You look at Sally inquisitively, and she nods. “And she made us promise to always stay friends. I'm not sure why she thought matching handkerchiefs would cement that, but…”

“I'm glad we did, though,” she laughs, sniffing. 

“Me, too. Now, come on. You're about to freeze if we don't get you some place warm. I'll light the fire at home and you'll stay for dinner to take your mind off this.” You grip her softly by the shoulders. “He will be here tomorrow, okay?” But you're not quite sure who you're trying to reassure more: yourself or your best friend. 

A restless night awaits you, tossing and turning in your bed as the moonlight peeks through your thin curtains. All you can think about is if Rosie and James are safe, the weight of your thoughts crushing your chest with every attempted deep breath. You fall asleep just as the sun is rising, and you wake feeling horrific. You pad to the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth, hoping going through your daily routine will bring some color back to your pale face and somehow, take your mind off things. 

It's only when you pull your bike from against the wall of the cottage that you realize it's finally stopped raining for the first time in three days. You breathe in the fresh air, hearing the soft breeze blow through the leaves on the tree outside your gate as your eyes close softly. “Y/N!” you hear a voice call from down the lane. There, in his uniform, looking a little battered, is James. As he approaches you, you see he has a small scratch above his eyebrow and another gash upon his cheek. 

“James!” You reply, extremely happy to see him. “You're here! Oh, Sally came to see me in such an awful state yesterday. We only saw five planes come back, and–”

“I'm headed there now,” he responds, interrupting your train of thought. He smiles brightly at you, and gives you a friendly wink. “Thank you for looking after her,” he says, softly. “I sure do hate worrying her but…it's just the way of the job.” 

“I understand, James. I know. She just has such a big heart.” You begin to wheel your bike down the lane towards the school, waving a goodbye to James and trying your best to avoid asking the one question that kept you up all night. The temptation, however, is too much and you stop in your tracks. 

“James?” You call after him. He turns but keeps walking, looking precariously behind him every few steps to avoid potholes and small ditches. “Is Rosie okay?”

“Finally!” He yells into the distance between you. “I was waiting for you to ask. He's fine, Y/N. Teach him how to ride that darn bike before he puts himself in the infirmary again!” 

The day passes in a blink, which you think is mostly in part of you wishing the day away. The children leave in a gaggle of excitement, looking forward to feeling the warm sun on their sweet faces as they begin their short walk home, playing together all the while. As they disperse, you look out of the bay window and spot someone under the apple tree, reading, their brow furrowed in concentration. “Rosie!” you squeal, swing open the door and run towards him as fast as you can. He spots you immediately and stands up, just in time for you to fling your arms around him without second guessing yourself.

“Well, hi,” He murmurs, his face buried in your neck. You breathe a huge sigh of relief into him, your eyes squeezed shut. 

“I didn't know if you were--oh, I was so worried about you,” you hold him a little tighter, wanting to make the embrace last a few moments more. “Oh, I'm so happy to see you, Rosie.”

“Likewise, Y/N,” he replies, reciprocating the tighter hug. You finally break apart, your hand finding its way to cup his cheek. 

“Now,” you sigh, finally content. “Tell me why you can't ride this bike.”

He demonstrates, looking a little embarrassed when you see him begin to try pedal backwards. 

“Hey, stop!” You call after him. “What are you doing?” 

“I'm trying to stop the thing,” he laughs, but obviously frustrated.

“Darling,” you reply, the word just spilling out of you. “These–” you gesture to the long buttons just off the handlebars, “--are for stopping.” He rolls his eyes jokingly, comically slapping a hand to his head. 

“Wow,” he says, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “I guess I can ride a bike. You really are a great teacher, Y/N. Those kids are lucky.” You shove at him playfully, laughing at his tone, until he grabs your hand. “Seriously…” he pauses, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. “You're wonderful.” 

Both balancing your bikes against the schoolhouse, you find yourselves under the apple tree, the sun just beginning to set. You had grabbed a spare blanket from the classroom, just in case the weather began to turn at a moment's notice which you knew was a terrible habit England possessed. Rosie places it around both of you and pulls you in close, your head resting on his shoulder. You close your eyes and exhale, contentedly, the rollercoaster of emotions from the past day finally leaving you in that breath, grateful and happy to have him here with you and safe for the time being. You reluctantly check your watch as he runs his fingers through your loose hair.

“You probably should get going,” you sigh, eyes a little sad. “It's late. I don't want you in trouble.” 

“I can handle it,” he says quietly, his whole body relaxing underneath you. “Just a few more minutes, please. I just want to be a guy, watching the sunset with a pretty girl on my arm.” 

chapter 3

masterlist

[squirrel-art]

Finished my little compilation of Sav and her mobility aids! ID in alt for each.

Disclaimer that I'm able-bodied & open to criticism about my portrayal! Also I realized belatedly her rollator is parked in a way that would, in fact, not keep it from rolling the fuck around, my bad.

Further details about my design philosophy/Sav's symptoms under the cut.

I played Savtas through Consular Story Chapter 1 in Full Good Girl Mode, saving all the Jedi and using the shielding ritual whenever prompted. The side effects of the rituals are vague and inconsequential in-game so as to make the job of the writers and programmers easier; characters comment worriedly about the fact that you "look tired" and not much else.

Fortunately, I have none of these restrictions. I don't know how to scientifically quantify "life-essence", but in my canon the energy required to create and maintain the shields comes right out of the body of the shielder, and behaves first and foremost like a faster-than-sustainable burning of calories. In the short-term, Sav became dangerously malnourished and fatigued; in the long-term she developed PoTS and what I've been glibly referring to as "Force fibro" in my brain, because the symptoms she experiences are the similar to that of those who suffer from fibromyalgia in real life: chronic pain, chronic fatigue, disordered sleep, and brain fog.

Some of those physical symptoms are ameliorated via use of a mobility aid, so she's tried out a couple different types.

Rollator

Sav's mobility aid of choice, purchased somewhere at the beginning of Ch 2. Sav is prone to dizziness and fatigue, and has less difficulty walking than she does standing for long periods; the rollator helps keep her balance and gives her somewhere to sit for short spells when she needs to.

The wheels do make this device better for navigating flatter and more even ground, but I imagine she can swap the wheels out for all-terrain varieties. I wonder if you could put blades on them like ice skates, to move around on places like Hoth? Well, the brakes wouldn't work, so probably not.

As mentioned in a previous post on my other sideblog, the design and colors are meant to evoke the pillars of the old Jedi Temple on Coruscant. This model is bespoke, created to Savvy's whimsical specifications. It wasn't even that expensive; you'd be surprised how many discounts people are willing to offer a Jedi!

Chair

A gift from the Jedi Council upon her defeat of Terrak Morrhage and the subsequent quelling of the Force plague. It's a more expensive model, and comes with a sturdy stand to rest it on when it's charging or not in use.

Design inspo drawn from both canon sources and the wonderful hermitmoss' hoverchair headcanons post!

I deliberated for a while as to whether Sav would have been given a wheelchair or a hoverchair. I settled on hoverchair mostly because Sav wanted a certain level of independence in her movement, but nobody was sure how long it would take her to regain enough upper body strength to reliably push herself around in a manual chair.

Sav in this image is at the beginning of her recovery, but she does continually make use of her chair after regaining some of her weight and muscle mass. Her rollator became her device of choice over the chair in part because the chair is kind of bulky and heavy, and can't be easily collapsed for transport. She probably has a lighter, more maneuverable transport chair stored on the ship to utilize in a pinch.

Looking at the design of the chair, I am already dissatisfied with it - the seat isn't raked to keep her from sliding out of it, and the control panel should realistically be attached to an extension and not directly under her hand. We'll fix that in the next pass, I think, but for now this drawing is representative of the overall design and colors.

Cane

She's got a few of these! Most have an offset or contour grip because she finds them the most comfortable, and most have adjustable bases.

Her favorite is probably the non-adjustable wooden one she got from a craftsman on Alderaan, the only one she owns made of fully organic materials.

[kpop-fanatic-lover16]

Ratchet - Jay Park

Pairing: Enhypen Jay x fem!reader

Genre: Enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, suggestiveness

Warnings: blood, abuse, rival enemies

Word count: 6.7k

Synopsis: Y/n a highschool girl who grew up in and enjoys her parents garage, is met with an abused rich popular boy, Jay, who's made her life a living hell, what happens when the two of them discover that their rivalry had something else behind it and they aren't as mad about as they thought?

♡

Dirty concrete flooring and the smell of oil filled your nostrils the moment you stepped into your family's car garage. A few older run-down cars sat in the back of the workshop, their only use being that for spare parts and scrap metal. The sound of a compressor releasing air and a blow torch firing up drew your attention to where there might be people. Hauling your backpack back onto your shoulder into a better position reminded you why you were in here.

"Dad?" you called. When there was no response, you had to step off the two steps up into the retail portion of the building and down on to the garage floor. With an experienced step in moving your way around cars and over them, you made your way to where the people were. "Dad?" you called again.

"He's working on the Mercades, Kiddo!" answered one of the mechanics, more specifically the one controlling the air compressor.

With the new information, you left the garage and went back to the garage specifically for cars owned by the rich. It wasn't as hard to find and maneuver yourself around this garage considering your dad only worked on a handful of expensively owned cars. And just like you were told, your dad was in there, standing under the raised car, working on the steering wheel system. 

"Dad!" you called to him. He fixed his attention from the pipes he was working on over to you. 

A smile lit up his lips at the sight of you, "Hey, there's my girl!" 

"Dad," you said, coming up next to him. "Have you seen the keys to my car? I'm running late for school and the last place I remember putting them was on the counter in the back storage room."

"Oh, you won't be needing those keys anymore." 

"What do you mean?" you gave him an inquisitive look to match his pointed one. After a few more seconds, you understood what he was getting at. Excitement rushed through you as you bounded over for the other side of the garage to look at the car you'd been working on since you were little. The 1970s Cadillac convertible sat all cleaned up and glittering under the rising sun with its fresh vanilla cream-colored paint.

"You should take it to school this morning. After all it's the first day back after break." your dad held out the keys for you to take. Laughter erupted from his chest as you wrapped your arms around his neck and jumped into his embrace. He held you against him tightly and spun you around once. Once he realized the hug had lasted a little too long and he was keeping you from school, he set you down and handed you the keys. 

"Thank you," you sighed out against him in one final hug. He warned you to not get dirty right before school, but you didn't care in the slightest. 

The roaring sound of the engine purred underneath you as you glided your palms over the soft leather of the steering wheel, getting a feel of her for the first time running alive. Another rush of excitement pulsed through you before you backed her out of the garage and with one last wave to your dad, drove to school with ten minutes left to spare.

Once you were at school, dread filled you. The sight of your arch nemesis parked in your usual spot did not sit well with you considering you paid for that parking spot for the year. Due to the time, you had to pull into a non-paid parking spot and settle for that until after school. You did not miss the surprise on his face at your new ride and the words he shared with his friends, who for once seemed to be interested in what he had to say regarding you.

"Jay Park!" 

"Well, well," he drew out his words when you walked up. The sight of your arms crossed and a scowl on your face lit a spark inside him. It gave him a buzz for his next words, "If it isn't the infamous car thief."

You dismissed his lame roast and looked behind you at his car. "Your sorry excuse for a ride is in my paid parking spot."

"Sorry excuse?" he repeated, faking shocked offense. His gray colored Bugatti was not under your belt of favored cars considering you didn't like the style of them, and they looked like a rich person who squanders those around them. "I don't remember asking for your unprofessional opinion."

"I will have it towed." you threatened seriously, hearing the bell in the distance ring. Great, now you were going to be written up for a tardy. Jay laughed harshly, glancing back at the popular kids of his group as if to say he didn't believe you one bit. 

"I dare you," he challenged. He took slow steps until he was in front of you, leaning down to your height to belittle you even further. The sour feeling in your stomach didn't go unnoticed by you as he glared down at you, "If you tow my car, I will personally make your life a living hell. So, I dare you. Go ahead and tow my car, or even better, why don't you tow it yourself."

The hushed o's came flooding from behind him as a proud smirk lit up his face. 

A little backstory on your relationship with Jay Park. Back when you were a freshman, you met Jay in a math class. He was very shy and closed off then which is why you were drawn to him in the first place. Maybe you would've gotten close if the two of you weren't so shy at that age.  

Differences and insecurities pushed him away from you right as you started to peek from your shell. When he hit puberty and became known as one of the boys at school with the most stunning visuals, he was snatched by the popular group. They fed him lies about everyone around him, including you. He became mean after only being with them for one semester. His behavior worsened when you started to care about how you looked and began to look beautiful. All the boys drooled over you, including himself, but you didn't let that fly.

One day during that year, he cornered you in the hallway to ask you out. He remembers the scoff you gave him and the roll of your eyes. 

"Are you serious?" you deadpanned not believing the situation you were in.

Jay, trying his best to convince you, placed his forearm on the wall, trapping you slightly under his gaze and body. Your breath hitched softly not because your heart was throbbing for him, but because you were uncomfortable in this position. The strong scent of his cologne filled your senses. For every other female in your school, it would cloud their head and dull their senses while their brains tried to register that the Jay Park was standing in front of them, wanting them. For you, it woke you up and sharpened your senses, pushing you away from his unwanted attention.

"Say yes," he practically begged. Suddenly, he was looking at you as if he was a different person trapped inside the monster popularity made him into. Eyes gentle and patient. Maybe his old self was still in there and being snuffed out by those around him. Your heart almost said yes but that was right before you remembered what he said to you this morning on a note you found on your desk.

As soon as you placed your hand on his chest and pushed him off of you, Jay knew he'd lost. To level your calm, you took a deep breath. You almost didn't say anything, opting to leave him standing in the hallway alone. But those eyes...

"Jay," you looked at him, seeing his eyes harden ever so slightly. "You can't compare me to a junkyard in the morning and tell me I'm the most beautiful creature you've ever laid eyes on in the afternoon. That's not how this works. So just drop it."

In desperation, he grabbed your wrist to stop you from walking away. Jay overestimated you as you yanked your hand free of his grip the next second.

You were now staring daggers into him, "Leave me alone, Jay."

Now he stood in front of you with hatred in his heart for wounding his pride and confidence from so long ago and also due to the lies he's been fed. What Jay seemed to forget about you was how you were determined to make things right if they were wrong. So, when he came out of school once the day was over and found that his car was gone, a rage he's never felt overcame him.

"Well," Jake, one of Jay's better friends, began awkwardly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "She's bold, I'll give her that."

"Shut up," Jay grumbled darkly, looking around the parking lot to see if he could spot you. When he realized your car was gone, he knew he just missed you. His insides turned over at the thought of having to go get his car back. To most it wasn't that big of a deal, but Jay would have to deal with domestic consequences. More than anything, that terrified him. He didn't even know where his car had been towed. 

"Hey," Sunghoon, another good friend, called out from his Bronco. Jay looked over at him to see him holding up a note. With a quick step, Jay was in front of Sunghoon with the note in his own hands.

I towed it myself. 

"She actually towed it?" Heeseung, the last friend, asked, referring to the note in Jay's hand. The boys waited for Jay to answer but got no response as he simply crumpled the note and threw it on the ground. Sunghoon, Heeseung, and Jake watched him get in the passenger side of Sunghoon's Bronco and slam the door shut. 

"I guess we'll see you later." Sunghoon said to Heeseung and Jake who nodded a goodbye before making their way over to Jake's car. Sunghoon wordlessly got into the driver's side and put his seatbelt on. When he looked over at Jay, the boy was staring down at his phone with anger radiating off of him. "Why do you do it?"

"Do what?" Jay snapped; eyes glued to his phone as he brainlessly scrolled through his socials.

"Build yourself up in an ugly way in front of her and be little her? Obviously, she's not afraid to challenge you. If you have an issue with her just talk to her about it." 

"Oh whatever," Jay grunted. He turned his phone off and buckled himself into the seat. "She's just stepping up her game."

Sunghoon stared at him blankly. Silence passed for about thirty seconds before Jay looked at Sunghoon once more. He raised his eyebrows silently asking him why he was just staring at him. Sunghoon shook his head at the boy and turned on the car. 

"So where did she tow it?"

Jay shifted uncomfortably. "Her parent's garage."

Later that evening, you were settled up on changing car brakes. The garage was getting ready to close and those who worked during the day had gone home. It was just you and your dad that stayed behind to work on a few extra things during the last few hours of opening. Sometimes even after the sun had disappeared behind the horizon, you stayed into the late hours of the night, working on older cars for fun. Most kids your age would be out partying or watching movies into late hours of the night, but you liked to keep busy in the silence of the garage. 

Though today, you weren't here because you wanted to be. You were waiting to see if Jay would show up. If he didn't show up to get his car you knew his parents would find out and there would be serious consequences. You knew something happened at home, something bad. Some days he would show up to school with bruises and scratches on his face.

You didn't care if he chose the consequences. If he wanted to act all high and mighty while walking on you then he could it.

A soft ring from the bell in the store caught your ear. The sound of your dad's voice greeted whoever had walked in and laughter was shared. You recognized the laugh belonging to Jake, Jay's friend. You stopped twisting your C wrench that was clamped down on the caliper, which had expanded slowly as the brake pad became thinner through use, to push the brake fluid back through the pipes and listened. When you heard footsteps coming to the back and into the garage, you ducked back down and went back to what you had been doing. 

"Just right over here," you heard your dad say. It prompted you to peek in their direction knowing Jake was here but not knowing if Jay was with him. His eyes were boring holes into you the instant you caught his eyes. Since your dad didn't know about your relationship with Jay, he walked the two boys through the garage and over to where Jay's car was parked.

"Thank you," Jake said kindly, handing the keys to Jay who took them. Anyone who didn't know Jay would not have seen the aggression when he took the keys from Jake, but you most certainly did. It made you chuckle inside and your heart spark with a flame. 

"Let me know if there's anything else we can do for you." your dad smiled, walking Jay over the raised garage door and out into the parking lot after Jay drove his car out. Jake responded kindly and got into his own car to follow Jay out and back where they came from. A throat clearing made you look up. Your dad was peering down at you. "I almost asked to take a ride in his Bugatti."

You only smiled at him as he walked back into the store to help someone else who came in while he was otherwise occupied. 

The next morning in your very first class, you saw it. The darkening bruise on the right side of his jaw accompanied by a wound on the outer edge of his lip. Nothing else was wounded on Jay's face, however that didn't mean that underneath his leather jacket there weren't more wounds. When he sat down carefully with calculated moves you knew immediately that he was injured. 

A small voice deep inside you scoffed and the devil angel on your shoulder said slyly, "Serves him right." but the angel on your other shoulder felt a little guilty. Guilty for the surprise waiting in his locker. 

You knew when it happened too. Practically the entire student body was standing in the hallway when it happened. Gasps followed by different levels of laughter broke out in the hallway after witnessing Jay's front get splattered with oil. The shock on his face made another spark ignite in you. Sure, the act was childish, but if Jay wanted to act like a middle school bully, then so be it.

Two for you. One for Jay.

"Woah!" Jake cried when the oil sprayed out, receiving a small amount of the oil on him as well. Jake's eyes scanned the oil from under Jay's jaw, down his front, and on the floor. Jay glanced around at the students walking by as embarrassment flooding his body. Then his eyes locked on you and the towel in your hand. He caught it when you threw it at him.

"You have a little something on you," you said, walking by him with a smirk on your face.

Rage filled him and he snatched you by your bicep and dragged you through the sea of students down the hall and into the boy's bathroom where he slammed you up against the wall just inside the door. For someone who'd just been beaten the night previous, he seemed to still have his strength. You couldn't tell if his clenched jaw was to bite back a groan of pain or to show how mad he was.

"You've got a lot of nerve," his voice was laced with poison to match his death grip on your shoulders. His eyes almost looked like they were glowing red adorned with his furrowed eyebrows. It scared you slightly since he's never been this rough with you before. Despite his feelings never changing on how beautiful you were to him, your attitude sure made up for it. 

"Don't act like you didn't see this coming," you fired back with a bite to your words. "I'm not going to let you walk all over me as if I'm dust!"

Jay pulled you back and slammed you against the wall again, "You don't get to humiliate me!"

"That hurts!" you screamed in his face. 

"Good!" he screamed back. Raging anger made you snake your arms between the two of you and shove his arms outward to rid his hold on you. Once his hold on you was gone you shoved him back as hard as you could, watching him hit the wall behind him with a groan. 

"What did I ever do to you? Are you still butt hurt over the fact that I rejected you? Maybe we should go over why you target me for absolutely no reason!"

"Absolutely no reason? Everyone was right about you!" Jay barked out getting up in your face. He was changing the subject, so he didn't break in front of you. What if you found out he still wanted you? You'd never let him live for it. "You're a piece of trash, Y/n!"

Lies.

Your heart was beating so rapidly that you felt your blood pressure rising at a dangerous pace. Jay saw the fire in your eyes and was provoked by it even more. You jabbed a finger into his chest hard, "No, you are the trash, Jay! I was wrong to think you were an innocent kid! No, your true self is an angry monster who bullies people to make him feel better about himself and his miserable life. You belittle me because that's all you feel at home!"

Now you were pressed up against the wall again, this time with his nails digging into your skin. His voice was so low, you stopped talking, "Don't. You. Dare. Talk about what my life is like at home. You know nothing. Your little stunt yesterday gave me a trip to hell, and you think you have the unmitigated gall to act as if you know my life?" 

"Jay, let go," you told him, afraid of what he might do. Since you've never seen Jay this angry and had no way of knowing how unpredictable he could be when raging like this, it was best for the two of you to step back. 

His eyes were clouded over and his grip tightened slightly. Jagged breaths escaped him while you waited for him to calm down. In seconds, his eyes unclouded and he looked down at his nails digging into your arms.

Instantly he released you, not meeting your eyes. "Sorry."

"Look," you sighed out, rubbing the area he irritated with his nails to soothe the skin. "It's not fair that you've made your own impression of me based off of what other people have told you. I have never done anything to you. Have I ever given you a good reason to hate me?"

Jay kept his gaze to the floor. 

"Have I ever?" you repeated. Jay shook his head after a moment. You never lied to him about who you were and how you acted. Not once.

Another sigh escaped you. You gathered your forgotten bag on the floor a ways from you and peeked over your shoulder at him to see he was still staring at the floor with a blank face, the oil on his clothes now stained. Without another word, you opened the door into an empty hall and left him there with his thoughts.

As the weeks carried on, Jay hadn't bothered you since your encounter in the bathroom. He even stopped some of his other friends from throwing snarky comments at you. Not to get on your good side but because he realized how wrong he was treating you. And more so the realization he had in himself when he attacked you with blind anger like his dad often did to him. That was the last thing he wanted. He still hated you, just silently. 

One day when you were walking across the athletic field to get to the parking lot from your last class, you noticed a group off in one of the corners. As you grew closer you recognized some of them. Heeseung, and Jake were among the group, and they had noticed you before anyone else. 

"Hey," one of the other boys spoke. "Isn't that the loser Jay hates?"

They were startled when you stopped and turned to them. Heeseung and Jake spared each other glances, knowing your spunk. They saw it coming before anyone else did. Everyone was even more startled when you changed your course and started to walk over to them. They watched you walk all the way over, crossing your arms over your chest with eyebrows raised. 

"What did you call me?" you said as if you were daring them to say it again. They shared surprised looks, wondering just exactly who you were to be challenging them. Nobody at school dared to have an attitude or speak to them without being spoke to. 

"Does that hurt your feelings?" one of them challenge with a sappy mocking whine. The sound of him made you scoff. Then you dropped your bag down to the bright green grass of the football field. Heeseung and Jake watched with more surprised and horror, not wanting to see where this went. Certain popular kids weren't to be messed with. Everyone knew that. You did too, but you weren't afraid even if they could hurt you. 

"How bout I hurt your face," you snapped back, shoving him out of your face. One thing your dad taught you was to not take anyone's crap. Especially if they were treating you less than you deserved. 

"You asked for it," he scoffed, raising a hand to beat you over the face, but before you could stop him someone appeared in front of you catching the other boy's hand. Jay.

Jay was merely inches away from you with his back to you. He was only staring at your attacker blocking them from hurting you. It's as if he was challenging him to take another hit. After so many years, he finally saw how wrong they were treating everyone, and he was done being a puppet. Jake and Heeseung stepped forward a bit, shaking their head at Jay to walk away. 

"Go," Jay looked back at you. When you didn't move, he repeated it more firmly, "Y/n, go!"

His tone has your feet moving before your head realizes what's happening. You expected to defend yourself and get them to stop talking about you, that's why you walked over there in the first place. They didn't know of the wrench in your backpack.  But when Jay stepped in, you did not expect him to defend you. It's like he knew something you didn't and stepped in before things got bad. You almost wanted to wait and make sure he was okay, but you decided against it and got in your car to drive to the garage. 

The thoughts of the afternoon carried with you while you were working and into the late night. You were under your third car, cleaning some pipes when the thoughts came back into your head. A sigh left you as you dropped your arms to allow the thoughts to flow. You'd been fighting them for a while, trying to not feed into them. 

"It's not like I can text him," you said to yourself aloud. "That'd be weird."

After a few more minutes of thinking you went back to scrubbing the pipes. Normally you wouldn't be doing this, but it was on somebody's expensive car, and they wanted it in top condition when they came to pick it up in the morning. The garage was empty at this hour leading very late into the night. All you wanted to do was go home and sleep. Not wiping pipes that should be dirty. It's a car for crying out loud. 

Just as you lowered your arms for the fifth time, the sound of something banging rapidly on one of the garage doors scared you to your core. With a fast pace you rolled out from under the vehicle and stared at the garage doors, terrified. Thinking it was someone just trying to get late business, you ignored it still paralyzed in place. 

Bang, bang, bang!

Maybe it was your dad. Cautiously, you got up and went over to the door that was shaking and grabbed the hook at the bottom of the door to pull it up. You pulled it up until you felt it get too tall for your extended arm, revealing the person on the other side. 

You gasped, "Oh my–"  

Jay held his finger up to his lips to silence you, pushing you inside the garage and pulling the door back down to hide the both of you. He was bleeding on his forehead near his hairline, his nose, cheek, and out of his ears. His body was tense as his muscles spasmed to take pressure off injured areas.

"Jay–"

"Do you have a first aid kit?" he brokenly asked cutting you off again. His eyes were asking you desperately. Without a word you dashed off to grab the first aid kit from the back of the store. When you came back Jay was leaning against the wall on his left shoulder trying to stay up right. 

"Come here," you said to him. He let you guide him over to one of the cars. He shook his head when you asked him to sit on the hood. "Sit."

"No," Jay declined, grunting at the pain. "My back hurts too much."

With a defeated sigh, you hopped up on the hood of the car to give you some height. Jay leaned against the car to keep him up right while you got to work on cleaning the blood up under his ears. He turned to the side to let you get the blood running down his neck. He was fighting hard to stay upright. 

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" your tone was gentle, not pushing him to say anything. Jay only stayed quiet. He looked into your eyes when you gently placed a hand on his jaw to turn him back to face you. Only when you started working on his left eyebrow did you return the eye contact. 

"I didn't know where else to go," he murmured. You faltered slightly in dabbing his eyebrow. It strangely made you feel warm inside that he thought to come to you. No matter how warm it felt, you shouldn't be feeling it with your arch nemesis. 

"Close your eyes."

He listened, shutting his eyes so you could clean up underneath his other eyebrow. With his eyes closed, he felt you dab and smooth over creams and ointments. He felt your legs caging his hips, the feeling of your outer thighs against his wrists as he propped himself upright with the help of the car. The feeling of a caring light touch brought tears to his eyes. He cursed himself internally when a tear slipped out from underneath his closed eye. It didn't go unnoticed, but you didn't say anything.

Jay opened his eyes at your request when you were finished, another tear falling, (which he caught this time) and watched as you were prepping more cotton. Next you mended his knuckles which you assumed were injured because he fought back against his attacker. 

"I'm sorry for bothering you," Jay said suddenly. The words came out soft, his eyes staring down at your lap. His sudden apology had you confused and warmed you up even more. Why was this happening? Why were you feeling this way over the boy who'd made your life a living hell for the last three years. More importantly, why were you helping him?

You heaved a sigh, "I'll be honest, I'm confused as to what you're getting at here."

Jay pulled his hands away from you and straightened up. HIs body was back to being close off and his eyes were cold. That's when you regretted your words.

"Truth be told, I'm not getting at anything." Jay replied bluntly. Now he remembered why you got on his nerves so much. Why did he defend you on the field in the first place? The two of you weren't meant to live peacefully alongside each other. But somewhere deep inside him, did he truly want that? Is that why he came to you during his vulnerable state?

When he wouldn't give you his hands to continue your cleaning, you dropped your arms into your lap and stared at him. Jay was different from any person you knew, and that's what drove you crazy. You thought he was a shy innocent kid like you, but he wasn't. What drove you even crazier was despite him being different you couldn't figure him out. All you knew was when to spot his good mood and bad mood. When to strike and when to lay back. 

"I shouldn't have come here," he said more to himself. Instantly, you snatched his wrist to stop him from leaving.

"Jay, stop," you pleaded, apologetically loosening your grip on his arm after he grunted in pain. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" 

"I don't know. I guess I'm just surprised is all. I mean, you did defend me today from being hit, and now you're here with me, alone, in this garage, letting me bandage up your wounds. It's a little shocking coming from you," a sigh heaved from his chest as he looked down, not wanting to look at you. "I'm just not used to the feeling of you caring. I'm not used to the feeling inside my chest that's the exact opposite of hatred."

"So, you do or do not hate me?" Jay was still looking down. Inside you wanted to scream and rip your hair out at his stubbornness. He really did get under your skin. How could he be likeable and dislikeable all at once? It was a great talent of his. 

"Not currently," came your reply. Now he was looking at you, and the look he was giving you was making your legs shake and your heart squeeze. Your stomach did a flip as his hands came up to cup right under your jawline before he pressed his lips against yours in a short peck. Now your heart was beating at the speed of light. 

"How about now?" he whispered, pulling back ever so slightly to look into your eyes. It's as if your body had a mind of its own as you leaned up and pecked his lips, wanting to feel that feeling again. The feeling of your heart jumping to your throat and your skin lighting ablaze. The second you pulled back; his lips were on yours again. He didn't care about the pain in his lips or back, screaming at him to halt. All he cared about was you against him and the euphoria it brought him. 

Neither of you remembered the horrible words you'd said to each other or the actions and humiliation you both suffered at the hands of each other. All you could think about was how good it felt. How good his lips felt against yours, how good the feeling of his hands on your body made you feel, how he was lighting your body on fire. And Jay could say the same. Your hands in his hair with your legs wrapped around his hips so you could press your front into his, desperately trying to get closer, to feel the burn. 

His lips pulled off of yours, instead tracing down your neck and front, leaning you back so he could kiss your collarbones tenderly, slowly, dragging out the moment a bit longer. Once he was finished at your collarbones, he came back up to your lips and kissed you, hard. Soaking into your lips like it was his new addiction, his want, his need. When you needed air, you pulled back, letting him trail back down your neck. Unconsciously, your body rose up higher with every kiss, wanting him to be close, wanting to give him all of you.

"Jay," you whispered into his ear with your hands still in his hair. He hummed deeply against your throat, peppering light kisses on your skin before he pulled back, giving you his full attention, "You're hurt, let's not take it too far."

His heart didn't want to, but his head nodded, untangling himself from your hold. Still in a haze, you leaned up again and pecked his lips to give him some assurance. When he pulled away and stepped back a few paces with a smile on his face, you knew. He still had feelings for you, even after you rejected him. Now what were you going to say? You made out with him quite heatedly making you wonder just how long you had liked him back. 

"Now that we've broken ties," Jay began to say with a smirk on his face. His arms wrapped around your waist as he endearingly looked into your eyes. They flashed with vulnerability with his next words, "Will you work on my back?"

A small smile was all he gave you as he turned around and took off his leather jacket. Deep dark blood stains in the shapes of slashes covered his back. Fear overcame you at the sight. Who had done this? This wasn't the Victorian Age. 

Slowly, you helped him out of his bloodied shirt and instead, went to go grab some chairs from the office. He needed to sit down while you attempted to clean these wounds. Jay sat with his back facing you, and you had to be honest, you were scared. Scared to hurt him, scared for him, scared he'd been in more danger even after you bandaged the wounds. Through your touches he could feel that you were more apprehensive. 

"I was surprised with how creative they got," Jay mumbled while you worked. You listened intently, wanting to know how he came to be in this state. "I didn't even know you could get a flogging whip so easily. I would have had less slashes, but I couldn't let them hurt Heeseung and Jake."

Jay still remembers his friends shouts and cries. Their voices breaking as they screamed his name, screaming for him to fight back and yelling to be released to help him. Especially from Heeseung who put up a good fight to try and save Jay. 

"So you took all of the beatings for them?" your voice was barely above a whisper. Jay's body rose and fell gently with every breath and his skin reacted to each touch you gave him.

"And you."

His words made you stop altogether. Jay glanced behind his left shoulder to see why you had stopped. When he saw that you paused halfway into applying some ointment, he turned back and stared at the floor. Maybe he shouldn't have said that. After all this moment for the two of you was proving to be overwhelming already. He wondered if you liked him like he did you. Jay only realized he still liked you a lot after the bathroom incident. 

Instead of chewing him out for being selfless enough to take away others pain, you laid a small kiss to his left shoulder, "Thank you, Jay."

After about two more hours, Jay left to go home. The two of you parted with one more long kiss and a smile. You hoped to see him in the morning for school, but deep down you worried that things would be different. After all, no one else had just witness the change in your relationship. 

The next morning, Jay only popped into school to pick up his work for the week. Because he was attacked, he chose to visit the doctor the next morning and was put on bed rest while he healed. Heeseung accompanied him to help carry everything. 

"Y/n!" Jay called your name from down the hall. Glances went to you, wondering what he had up his sleeve to tick you off today. Little did they know. They were beyond shocked but not from the usual banter.

You returned the kiss he planted on your lips before continuing to shuffle through your locker. Things were changing for the two of you. There had been no reason to think otherwise. Even Heeseung was slightly surprised. Though he already listened to everything from Jay. Every ounce of lovesickness radiating from his friend. It's still shocked him though. 

"Hi," you smiled, closing your locker and leaning against it. He smiled back at you, placing his hands on your waist. His heart flipped when your hands came up to rest on his neck, still mindful of his wounds. He would never get over the fact that you would let him hold you now. "Are you feeling better?"

"I am now after seeing your smile," he mumbled lowly. His lips came down to caress yours softly shocking everyone even more. This would be the talk for years to come. Two rival enemies turned to lovers overnight. The sheer thought of it was astounding to everyone. Though maybe they loved each other longer than they thought. 

"Be mine," he said against your lips. Heeseung awkwardly moved away, turned around to look elsewhere. He could feel his cheeks burning. Okay so maybe he was having a hard time accepting the change, he was still happy for Jay. 

"Are you asking me out?" you inquired, quirking and eyebrow at him. Jay only slipped his arms around your waist and pulled you against him, his smile still plastered on his face. It's exactly what he was asking. 

"Say yes," he repeated his words from so long ago. This time your answer was different from before, and you liked it much better. Jay was like a wrench. Twisting, turning, and screwing your heart around in circles. Hopefully he'd keep it tight this time and not let go of you. 

"No," you said, shocking him. When he realized you were teasing him, he squeezed your waist harder and pressed his lips into a line with his eyebrows furrowing. The reaction made you laugh, blessing Jay's ears with the sound. "Jay, you don't even have to ask." 

"OKAY!" Heeseung cried out with desperation seconds after Jay kissed you deeply as if to say thank you for giving him a chance. "We get it! You're together! For the love of my sanity, tone down the PDA! I'm practically going into shock."

All he got in return was a binder thrown at him.

[maspers]

Ranking the Miracucast by good they are at playing UNO

Marinette: She has a strategy. She plays to win. Her family has been playing UNO since before Marinette was in nursery school. She is ruthless and takes no chances. There are no allies in UNO. ...She still ends up losing more often than not because that's just how UNO is. 7/10

Alya: She's mostly just at the table for fun, and really enjoys how into it her friends get. 4/10

Adrien: Yes. 10/10

Nino: You would not expect this man to be good at UNO. But everyone just kind of... ignores him? He just casually goes along causing no drama, until he's the first person to call "UNO!" and everyone wheels around in their seats to face him with shocked looks on their faces. Adrien, however, can see right through Nino's facade and the moment Nino says "UNO!" both of them know that it's on like Donkey Kong. 9/10

Chloe: She has no idea whatsoever how to play, but she refuses to lose to Marinette. There is drama. There is house rules. There is drama about house rules. But they keep inviting Chloe back to the table because when she plays she also *hosts* the game at Le Grand Paris, and while they may not be good at much the Bourgeois family DOES know how to host events better than anyone else. 5/10

Sabrina: Initially didn't participate and was just there to act as Chloe's valet. Then one day she joined the table and curbstomped everyone, then went back to helping set up the snacks like it never happened. This has happened a couple times since then, and nobody understands it. Adrien and Nino have begged her to teach them, and she acts like she doesn't know what they're talking about. The only person to ever match Sabrina in a game of UNO was Marinette's mother Sabine, and all the players that were involved in that game signed an NDA stating they can't reveal who won. I have no justification for any of this, but I can feel it in my bones. 11/10

Mylene: Surprisingly vicious, but experienced players have no difficulty dispatching her. 6/10

Ivan: Unfortunately he is not very good at this game. There was one time he actually won though, with a pretty good strategy, and his smile was brighter than the sun. Since then everyone has wanted him to win again, but none of them are willing to sacrifice their own chances of victory for it. Ivan doesn't mind. He's just happy to be included. 2/10

Rose: Everyone expects her to be secretly good at this game for some reason. She doesn't understand why. She's pretty average at the game, but enjoys when she plays a card normally and everyone else glances around in a panic. This is fun! 4/10

Juleka: By herself she's a little better than average, but she's a real menace when Luka is also in the room. She knows all his tells and micro-expressions, and since Luka is Luka (see below) that means she knows everything. There have been talks of banning the Couffaine Twins from playing in the same round as each other, but such a ban was pretty impossible to enforce. 8/10 by proxy

Kim: In regular UNO he's a complete failure, but when the group is playing with large amounts of house rules he starts doing really really well. Not on purpose. Most of the time, however, he just shows up to eat snacks and arm wrestle with Ivan in the background while everyone else plays. 3/10

Max: Like with every game he's played, he knows ALL the strategies. Card percentages, color probabilities, the works. He should, by all accounts, be an expert at this game. But he does not understand the Heart Of The Cards and so he keeps losing. 6/10

Alix: Is definitely cheating. All the time. Everyone knows it. And it hurts, because Alix is legitimately good at the game too. Her classmates are begging for a regular game, but she just loves seeing what weird stuff she can get away with. Alix/10

Nathaniel: He wasn't particularly interested in the game originally, but then someone (Chloe maybe?) commissioned him to make a massive custom deck with original art based on the superheroes. Since he makes the cards, he somehow also became the judge on what can and cannot become a permanent house rule, since that often leads to new cards being made. He's still really awful at the game itself, but everyone showers him with praise and view his title as Deck Keeper as worthy of unparalleled respect. And since he made the cards, he's the only one capable of countering Heart Of The Cards bullcrap. 5/10

Lila: Has literally never played UNO before, though she will never admit it. 0/10

Luka: The jury's still out on whether or not his inner music hyper-empathy counts counts as cheating or not. Since they can't prove he's using it to know what everyone is feeling about their cards and plays, he's still permitted at the table. But the fact remains that he's very good at this the game. 8/10

Kagami: She has absolutely no idea what she is doing. The amount of cards in her hand sometimes gets so large Felix or Adrien has to provide one of their hands to help hold them. But she is also having the most fun she's had in a long, long time. So let's focus on the positives, shall we? -10/10

Marc: He swears the deck is not rigged in his favor. Nathaniel asserts there's no way he COULD rig the deck in Marc's favor, and Max ran the numbers to prove it. But somehow every time the group starts a new round Marc draws his cards and yup full of wild cards again. 6/10

Ondine: This was Kim's idea of a date. Ondine was not impressed. But she did stay for the snacks, and at least gave it the old college try. UNO just isn't her vibe, and that's okay. 1/10

Aurore: Doesn't usually play with everyone else, but she DOES know how to play, and one time she was asked to join a game when most of the group was unavailable and they needed more players. It was a bit awkward because she's a big Adrien fangirl and is used to playing with a different set of house rules, but they made it work, and fun was had. 4/10

Felix: He tries. He tries so hard. Everyone was wary when he joined the table, but there fears were unfounded because Felix is absolutely pathetic at UNO. He has the rules memorized. He keeps track of all the house rules meticulously, which interestingly means he's very good at keeping the game running smoothly. Everyone turns to him when there's uncertainty about a particular situation. But he just can not win. Ever. He doesn't even get close. He's managed to call "UNO" a grand total of once in his lifetime, and that was because the rest of his cards ended up in Kagami's hand instead somehow. It's awful. It's mortifying. He's a chess prodigy, an expert tactician, how has he been reduced to this? 1/10

Zoe: Was really excited to play, and let out a squeal of joy when she saw Nath's custom cards. She knows how to play really well, and was really quick on the uptake when it came to all the house rules, too. Since she's around technically the group no longer needs Chloe to host, but Chloe took that as a challenge to be an EVEN. BETTER. HOST. Zoe is not complaining, less work for her. And she still beats he sister most of the time, so it's all good. 7/10

[clovers-little-starlings]

🌟🦒 Starling School Announcement! 🦝 🌟

Weekly Question, Coloring Sheets and Worksheets included!

Pet-names used: Little starling(s)

Good morning, my little starlings and friends! ^w^ I hope we're all doing well!

This one's another longer post, I'll be talking about the app Sandbox below the cut!

Maybe I should start making a tag for these... ^^;

I've decided to start taking one day of the week to post a question, a coloring page and/or a worksheet (or maybe a few!) for you all to do if you'd like! I'll try to make them themed!! :D

If you have any you'd like me to ask or send in, please feel free to tell me! :D

You can send them to my inbox or reblog or- however you choose to send them to me, but you don't have to!

If you need help finding sites to fill these out in or can't print them out, or just have trouble completing them, let me know!! I'll try to edit them to make them easier to fill in if you're doing so digitally, I typically do so through a pixel art site called Piskel.

You can send these to me whenever you'd like if you'd like to, they don't have to be completed within the week, I'll just be posting new ones each week!

Weekly Question!

What is or are some of your favorite animals?

Where do they live?

What would it be like to keep them as a pet? :0

(And whatever else you want to add in, feel free to ramble and babble away!! I LOVE animals!! :D)

You can answer as many or as few of these as you'd like! ^w^

Coloring Sheets!

Worksheets!

Sandbox

This one might be better suited for bigger kiddos depending on how complicated the pictures are.

There's a free app I use called Sandbox which is basically a mobile coloring book! You can find all sorts of coloring apps and sites online, but I've really liked using Sandbox.

Unfortunately, I don't think I can share the pages I do, but I'd be happy to screenshot and share them with you all if you want to try and find them to do them with me!

It's free to download, and there's also a premium option.

This is what it looks like when you open the menu! You can scroll up or down, try the pictures at the top, or tap the circles in the bottom left of each picture to show you more pictures of that type! If I find a cat picture, but I want to find an easier one/one that will take less time to make, I can tap the circle and find more cat pictures!

To fill the squares, you tap the color you want to start with, zoom in to find the square with that color's number (it will be shaded when selected!) and tap to color each square, or double-tap to fill a whole space.

If you go into the settings, you can set it so double-tapping also fills squares/spaces diagonal to the one you tap.

Once a color at the bottom has the stripes over it, that means you've filled all the squares of that color.

You can share the pictures or download them once you're done, and if you tap the green checkmark up in the top right, it'll show you a quick version of you coloring it!

Once you're back on the home menu, you can swipe right to see the pages you've made, or swipe left to make pixel art of your own!

One thing I didn't picture here was that little gray bar above the colors when you're working on a drawing- if you drag that up, it'll pull up a menu of a color wheel/array you can use to pick custom colors for each number!

If you have any questions, feel free to ask!

"Fluttershy protects this blog! SFW interaction only, please and thank you! ^w^"

"Wouldn't show a kid? Doesn't belong here!"

[ceebit]

⠀⠀⎯⎯⠀⠀⠀ yours ⠀· j. hong

⟡ note : i’m trying a new layout out ? anyway. this is a continuation ? of sorts ? of my beloved soulmate!au… i’m still so happy it was received so well. thank you to the lovely anons who asked for this. ^_^

⟡ wc : 1.5k. reader’s perspective this time. enjoy :)

it’s been a year since then, but you still can’t shake the feeling that you know him from somewhere.

because you’ve heard of soulmates. of red string, of fate, of instant connections that happen on pure coincidence that last for years and years to come, but you’re sure it’s not any of that. not even close.

that rainy morning in that small café sparked an itch in your head you can’t seem to scratch no matter how hard you wrack your brain for any time you might have seen him before. you know it’s partly ridiculous, because you know you haven’t seen him before, but the feeling still stubbornly persists.

that’s how you find yourself peering at him curiously as he floats about your apartment, hand tousled hair and wrinkled sleep shirt a testament to his highly disheveled appearance. you wonder how he seems to know where you keep everything—not once has he asked where you keep your mugs or the sugar or your baking necessities. alarms should be going off on all fronts, but you feel strangely at peace.

it should scare you. it doesn’t.

“penny for your thoughts?” 

warmth wafts under your nose as he places a cup of coffee just within reach. you don’t have to bring it to your lips to know he’s made it just how you like, again without asking. 

“i feel a bit strange,” you admit, and his brows raise before settling into the seat across from you. your fingertips drum against the surface of your countertop. “i still can’t help but feel like i know you.”

“we’ve been dating for a few months now.” his response is murmured over the rim of his mug, expression coy even in his relaxed state. “i’d be a little upset if you didn’t know what my favorite color was.”

someone asked me what my favorite color was today.

really? did you say something expected like green? you seem like a green person. specifically sage green.

i’m going to take that as a compliment.

don’t be a smartass. what is it! and don’t say something cheesy like the color of my eyes, or something.

my favorite color is now sage green, then.

“love?”

you shake your head and blink, glancing down at the hand now laced with yours in concern. 

“my eyes,” you mumble, and something in his expression makes your heart climb into your throat.

joshua smiles faintly and squeezes your hand once. “that’s right. finish your coffee or it’ll get cold.”

you dream of vanilla and soft linens. of laughter and self made lanterns. of whipped cream and kisses in the dark and the familiar weight of his hand in yours.

it’s not your body. but it is at the same time.

he’s the same every time.

you startle awake still smelling sugar but only find yourself in bed, his arm draped over your middle in deep sleep. moonlight still streams in cut patterns across your shared room.

you still can’t shake that odd feeling of deja vu.

you were never a serious fan of grocery shopping before him. the long lines always made you put it off until you absolutely needed to restock, and you had no patience to wait until time crawled by enough to allow you to set your wants on the conveyor belt. the clerks always looked like they didn’t want to be there, trapped in the endless hamster wheel of work, work, work—a better life dangling in front of them like celery hung from a string—and you could relate. you didn’t want to be there, either. crowds had never suited you well, and if one more mom looked at you pitifully as you inspected the vegetable aisle in mild distaste, you were seriously going to lose it.

“the best time for grocery shopping is in the morning, silly,” he told you once you’d voiced your opinions, mirth dancing in his eyes. “grocery shopping is peaceful when you know what times to avoid the major surges.”

you had laughed, moving to resting your head on his shoulder, and didn’t think much of conversation since then. but without telling you, he’d cleared your schedule out, going as far as to wake you up at six in the morning. the sun bled colors in bright brushstrokes and the sharp chill of the cold window against your cheek helped you stay awake.

breakfast is sweet and you watch the sun rise and finally color the sky a pretty light blue. he peers at you curiously and you brush pastry cream from the corner of his lips.

and of course, he was right. but he didn’t need to know that.

arm looped in his, you find being tugged along as he pushed the cart didn’t seem to be that bad after all. ambient noise fades into the background with the gentle music playing over the speakers, and there isn’t a single crying child in any aisle.

joshua glances over to find content displayed openly on your features and laughs.

are the watermelons even ripe?

i really couldn’t tell you. my mother somehow always knew, though. she had good intuition like that. we’d have smoothies and fruit pops and melonade.

melonade?

mm. watermelon lemonade. it’s really good, i’ll have to make it for you sometime.

i’ll hold you to that. 

we need to find some good ones, then. is your intuition any good?

“is your intuition any good?” 

“what?” he stops in his tracks, forcing you to stop with him. “what was that?”

embarrassment floods through your body like wildfire. “sorry. i just—never mind. it’s stupid.”

“is it?”

his gaze is heavy. almost stripping you bare, and you feel it’s far too early to have a crisis in the middle of the vegetable aisle. you look away, heart thundering in your chest. what is happening?

“we should get some watermelon,” you say instead.

“whatever you want. fruits are in the next aisle.”

waves brush past your feet. sun kissed skin and seagulls call overhead. his sun hat sits perched on your head and you laugh when he waves from deeper in the water. the drink in your hand is sweet and familiar. music spins a soft tune nearby.

stolen kisses in a library. saturated reds and oranges cast pretty shadows against your skin. sunlight peeks and glints on the rings that adorn his fingers and you’re reminded of where you stand. of where you both stand.

run away with me. arguments. tears. the sound of the wind brushing past your ears on horseback. the cold stings. your fingers are numb and your heart hurts. i can’t. it’s not right.

is any of this right?! i don’t want this. never wanted any of this. i just want you.

you can’t look at him. can’t bear the sight of him at all. not like this.

i’m sorry.

you’re not sleeping. he worries. you know he worries, and yet slumber is not your friend and it laughs when you close your eyes and try will it nearer anyway.

“are you hiding anything from me?”

“never.” his voice is hushed. he stands on the other side of your room, motionless. “i would never—”

“i have these strange dreams. of me, but not-me. and you, but not-you. but i’ve only just met you, so i don’t understand and it’s driving me insane.”

you shove your shaking hands under your thighs and look out of the window. his gaze burns against your bare skin.

“what do you see in your dreams?”

weddings. star-crossed lovers. love that bends time and space itself. the same hand that slipped a ring on your finger, over and over and again and again.

you’re an artist in one. royalty in the next, merfolk in another, stars, bakers, gods, and so on. you don’t understand how you remember memories of lives you know you haven’t lived but still feel anyway.

“who are you?” 

he crosses the space between you two, then. 

“yours.”

you promise?

there’s a reason why we keep finding each other. i don’t know why, but it feels like the universe likes pushing us in the same direction, however that may be. 

i always forget you. or about you. whichever. i’m sorry.

i think that’s the price. a new life is the start, finding you is the journey, and helping you remember is the price.

and the reward?

i already have it. waking up with memories of you is the biggest reward i could ever be given. it helps. during the times when i’m alone and i don’t have you.

i’m sorry i don’t remember. i wish i could. 

don’t be. knowing i’ll find you one day and get to fall in love with you over and over again, however you come back to me, is more than enough.

“do you remember now?”

fresh tears fill your waterline. you do. you do, and everything falls back into place—the nagging feeling disperses and is replaced with warmth.

“yours,” you breathe. he coaxes your hands out and squeezes them firmly.

“welcome back, love.”

back home ⟡ the archive ⟡ join my taglist ⟡ last post

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Great Hunt! Chapter 26: Discord

Gather around everyone and I'll tell you a tale. It's a tale of my reactions to someone else telling me a different story in book form. Many book form, to be technical. And I already know the story, so my reactions will be very spoilery for all the books. Every book. If that's gonna be a problem, plug your ears or something I guess.

This chapter has a harp icon because it's Thom time! I'm as happy as Rand is to see him.

Rand, I may have been too hasty in leaving Stedding Shangtai the way I did. When I do go home, I may be in a great deal of trouble.

Not sure why you couldn't just lie about being a young Ogier from Saldaea or something, Loial. You all can't keep that close a set of tabs on each other. Or is the unbearded look a dead giveaway?

When they came pounding through the common room, Rand winked at the innkeeper, then laughed at his startled look. Let him think I’m off to play his bloody Great Game. Let him think what he wants. Thom’s alive.

What is it about needing to keep a low profile in inns that makes Rand so reckless? First Baerlon and his channeling sickness, now this when he doesn't even have that excuse.

The innkeeper was a woman with hair as white as Thom’s, and sharp eyes that studied Loial as well as Rand.

Innkeeper size, and therefore loyalty, uncertain.

The slender woman sitting cross-legged on the bed with her skirts tucked under her was keeping six colored balls spinning in a wheel between her hands.

Dena meanwhile has to be small so that Jordan can fit her into the fridge more easily.

“I have never heard of a woman gleeman,” Loial said.

And this frankly makes Dena's fridging all the more exhausting. Why are there no gleegals anyway? Surely there'd be a good source: women who go to the Tower to become Aes Sedai and then get put out again when it's clear they're not worthy but who don't want to go back home now that they've tasted the world. Especially since this world seems to be pretty low on sex work, you'd think that gals who don't have much else in the realm of prospects would pick up the job.

But also, it's infuriating that Dena is intro'd in this way and then killed off and then we never have any other woman who tries to take up the mantle later. One can hardly blame Thom for being in a hurry to pick up a lady apprentice given what happens to Dena and the events of the next few months, but by the time he ended up in Ebou Dar it should have been going again. It's a wasted opportunity.

They hang a scrap of painted canvas behind them, supposed to make the audience believe these fools are in Matuchin Hall, or the high passes of the Mountains of Dhoom. I make the listener see every banner, smell every battle, feel every emotion. I make them believe they are Gaidal Cain. Seaghan will have his hall torn down around his ears if he puts this lot on to follow me.

And here's another apparent revolution in the world's culture that doesn't seem to go anywhere. Theater exists; there's a play held in Andor much later, but apparently Gleemen will stay the preferred style for now. I suppose after the circus it's probably for the best we didn't pick up a subplot of players.

“She listens to a tale once—once only, mind!—and she has it right, not just the words, but every nuance, every rhythm. She has a fine hand on the harp, and she played the flute better the first time she picked it up than you ever did.”

Yes yes, we all know she's too pure for this sinful Earth.

She’ll be court-bard to a king or a queen before she’s done.

Okay but for real Thom, there's only so many monarchs in the world and I doubt many more nobles besides their immediate subordinates could afford court-bards so what are all the women in the world who aren't mind-bogglingly talented supposed to do in the performance arts? They can't all just give up their dreams and move on. Why are they absent?

“Your clumsy sheepherder’s fingers were never meant for the harp.”

There is something very sad in Rand not being meant for the sophisticated forms of art (and science) that he'd really rather be a part of than conquering.

There is even a lord in the city has what he claims is the Horn locked up inside his manor. He says it’s a treasure handed down in his House since the Breaking.

You know, I'm willing to believe that this lord really does have a 3,500 year old horn in his basement. Obviously not a magic one, but still. Stranger things have happened.

“Moiraine says it’s the Horn,” Rand said. Thom’s mirth was cut short.

Thom takes Moiraine as gospel even now.

“I don’t suppose you are talking about simply riding to Shienar and handing the Horn to—who?—the King? Why Shienar? The legends all tie the Horn to Illian.”

I suppose this must be one of those myths that grew in the telling. That or there was some confusion with a Foretelling and the sea that the Horn gets tossed into is off of Illian's coast.

“Thom,” he said at last, “are there any books that have The Karaethon Cycle in them?” Easier to call it that than the Prophecies of the Dragon. “In the great libraries,” Thom said slowly. “Any number of translations, and even in the Old Tongue, here and there.”

Thom of course has to answer slowly because Rand's question has given him a heart attack and he needs to take deep breaths. This might well be one of the more terrifying moments of Thom's life, having a young boy taken from his home on suspicion of channeling asking about the Prophecies while waving the sign of their imminent fulfillment around. Or at least this would be the case if Thom was taking it at all seriously (he's not, not yet).

For a moment, Rand could only gape at him, and when he could speak, his voice was unsteady. “The sword makes five. Hilt, scabbard, and blade.” He turned his hand down on the table, hiding the brand on his palm. For the first time since Selene’s salve had done its work, he could feel it. Not hurting, but he knew it was there.

Moiraine of course thought she was fulfilling prophecy but as Rand points out the coat counts for nothing, though funnily enough the sword and the coat are echoes of the later, true markings: the sword setting Rand on his path away from home and the coat being Moiraine naming him among the candidates as the real deal.

Thom's got to be happy Rand's denying it though.

I suspect Aes Sedai would want to make events fit the Prophecies as closely as they can. Dying somewhere in the Blasted Lands would be a high price to pay for going along with them.

Thom's a very kind mentor for actually telling Rand straight out what the price of being the Dragon is and suggesting that if he's just doing it for the Aes Sedai that it's time to do something.

“Then why ask about the Prophecies? Why send the Ogier out of the room?”

One of the problems of being an expert player of the Great Game is that when a novice shows up and starts blundering around, you're going to mistake his idiotic moves for strategic ones. Thom correctly identifies Rand's got an ulterior motive for his behavior and skips right past the obvious, simple, and true answer in favor of a conspiracy theory.

“I’ve learned a few things since we parted, Thom. They will come for whoever blows the Horn, even a Darkfriend.”

I'm not sure you've learned that at all Rand, and I suppose we should have taken Thom not knowing that detail as warning enough that it wasn't true.

“Owyn held it off almost three years. He never hurt anyone. He didn’t use the Power unless he had to, and then only to help his village. He. . . .” Thom threw up his hands.

The taint on saidin was an absolutely masterful counterstroke if you think about it. The perfect way for the divisive paranoia of the Shadow to worm its way into the minds of Light aligned individuals. Thom knows that Owyn was a danger to society but he still tries to make excuses out of love.

If Moiraine’s let you go, then you are well out of it.

While Rand outplays Thom through naivety, Moiraine outflanks him legitimately.

“A clean break is best, boy. If you’re always coming around, even if you never mention it, I won’t be able to get the Horn out of my head. And I won’t be tangled in it. I won’t.”

A cruel move by Thom, but one can hardly blame an old man for trying to refuse the call. One can blame the Wheel for how refusing the call plays out for him though.

Ruefully, he realized he was considering whether to tell Zera the truth or let her continue thinking as she did. All it takes is to think about the Great Game, and I start playing it.

Politics as a whole are a rather infectious way of corrupting the Light too, and the fools do it to themselves. It's no wonder part of Rand's coming is resetting the whole damn board on the players.

Coat or no coat, Rand was still only a shepherd. If he had been more, if he had been what Thom once suspected—a man who could channel—neither Moiraine nor any other Aes Sedai would ever have let him walk away ungentled.

Frankly, I think Thom's very much hiding in denial here like Rand does. He has to know that the facts don't add up in any way that's good but he pretends he can send Rand away and not have to worry about it.

Ah well. We have to part ways here too. See you next chapter!

[genericpuff]

I don’t know if this is a silly question or not, but I saw you mention how the creator of “there are no demons” uses a 3D sculpts to make their comic. Do you use a 3D software? I have never even considered it before now, but now I’m wondering if it would help me keep consistency with different characters body types

I actually do, not so much software (I'm not a 3D modeller at all lol) but 3D assets! There are a few sprinkled throughout Rekindled, mostly involving background props and set designs (though in a lot of cases my assistant @banshriek will often just use them as references to paint over rather than use them directly if they feel it looks better, much of the backgrounds in the comic since Ep 23 can be attributed to them <3).

I don't use 3D models for my character art, not so much because I'm against it, just because I've used them in the past and while I found they helped with certain things I often struggle with like perspective and proportions, they've also started to hinder my creativity because of how stiff they can be (and tbh it made the drawing process really boring for me because I was literally spending more time adjusting poses than I was actually drawing!) I'm finding I'm perfectly capable of drawing anatomy on my own now, using 3D models for a while helped me get there but now they're more limiting than they are helpful due to my outgrowing them (kind of like training wheels on a bike, like yeah they're helpful so you can learn how to ride a bike, but you won't get to go as fast or have as much freedom of movement as you would if you learned how to ride a two wheeler). I think they're great for referencing or if I'm REALLY stuck on a pose or how a character exists in a space, but I don't like being constrained by them by using them constantly and that was what it was starting to feel like while I was using them for Time Gate so I've moved away from 3D character models and stuck exclusively to using 3D assets for backgrounds and things that aren't going to affect the overall quality of my work or how I make it.

I think the fact that a lot of people straight up don't notice that I use 3D assets in Rekindled is a testament to that LMAO Although you can tell in some of the earlier episodes when it was just me working on it and I had to balance quality with turnaround time. I've always hated drawing backgrounds and so Banshriek has been a huge help with relieving that stress and adding that extra touch to Rekindled that I just can't feasibly bring on my own :' )

If you're interested in trying out 3D models for yourself, then by all means do it! You won't know what works for you until you try it. Most of my advice stems from experience, I'm not someone who wants to spend all day messing around with 3D dolls, so using them to aid in my drawing just wound up being redundant, time-consuming, and boring. But there are folks out there who love messing around with 3D models, there are even comics out there that are fully 3D with zero drawing, using models that are handmade. Webcomics are a medium, you can do whatever you want :' )

The only advice I have to give from experience is to be aware that like with any tool, they aren't necessarily a "replacement" for the learning process, they should supplement your learning alongside other resources and references. You should still make an effort to learn foundational things like composition, lighting, color theory, dynamic gestures, etc. regardless of whether you're working in 2D, 3D, or a fusion of the two. "There Are No Demons" has a look to it that's uncanny and that's clearly the point so the 3D models help a LOT with that, but there are just as many webtoons that use 3D models poorly and wind up with an uncanny look they weren't intending to have (ex. Let's Play).

[miyuhpapayuh]

Candydrip interluude pt 2

I think it’s time for something new…

Yeah, that's right, right there.

I hate to be candy corn, but when you snicker about

my good humor, you make my stars burst

“Okay, ima cut that clip right around the end of this line. It’s a sweet one, I’ll admit.” She says, already catching a glimpse of that smile out of the corner of her eye.

“You finally comin’ around, huh?”

She scoffs a laugh, find you something to do leaving her lips, making him lick his own.

“What I been doin’ for the past two hours?”

“Gettin’ on my nerves, boy.” She playfully rolls her eyes, still focused on cutting her clips.

He sucks his teeth.

She mumbles something under her breath, continuing to make some adjustments. He’s still seated beside her, silently watching her work away.

“Alex dropped off another outfit for you to try on. I figured while you’re here, you can take it with you now and not have to wait till Wednesday.” She says, looking in his direction.

“Is it another coat?” He asks, making her snicker.

“You have to look and see.” She points to a box on her counter. “It’s right over there.”

Heading over to see about it, he pulls the lid off the box, revealing another stylish pick from Alex; a chocolate double breasted suit jacket paired with patchwork pants of a nude palette.

“These are sweet,” he glances in her direction and holds up the pants, catching the smile on her pretty face.

“I actually helped him find those,” she chuckles, sitting her laptop aside for a minute. “He wanted to pair that jacket with either the same color pants as the jacket or something across the color wheel and I could not let you go out like that.” She shakes her head.

He snickers. “Yeah, he out here trippin. Tryna have me out here looking like a black Barney.”

“Oh my god,” she laughs and wipes the tear from under her eye. “You’re stupid.”

“Am I lying?” He asks, placing the clothing back in its box, before heading back over to her couch.

“Nah.” She replies, replacing her laptop back in her possession so he could sit back down. “He was trippin, though.”

“Good lookin’ out, shorty.” His long arm stretches out on the back of the couch, making her aware of how close he was.

“No problem. Name’s Roni, by the way.”

“Ohh, so we finally uncover the mystery of Miss director.” He teases.

She snorts. “Well, I figured we’re not exactly strangers anymore.. but don’t get carried away, I’m still a professional. We can go right back to Miss director, real quick.” She blinks at him.

“I respect it. No worries.” He nods, a ghost of a smirk left on his lips.

“What you smirkin’ for?” She asks, raising a brow.

“We still strangers?” He asks.

“Outside of this professional relationship, yes.”

“Hm.”

“What?”

“I’m thinking you should let me change that.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Why?” She asks, looking up from her laptop once again.

“Cause I wanna know what the rest of Roni’s like.” He answers.

“So, talk to me,” she laughs.

“Why not talk over dinner?,” he inquires. “You like to eat, don’t you?”

She nods, soon mirroring his smile.

“Aight, then.”

“Get to the question, so I can tell you no.” She says, snickering at the smile disappearing from his face.

“Damn, it’s like that?” He asks.

She just keeps on laughing.

“You gotta come a lil better than that.”

“I gotta get down on my knees?” He asks, causing the idea to swim in her brain for a little bit too long.

“Aight,” he starts to do just that, making her eyes go wide.

Moving her laptop to the coffee table, he’s on his knees in front of her, ready to plead his case.

You beggin’ for real?” She asks.

“Whatever it takes.”

“Why?” She repeats her earlier question, making him chuckle.

“I’ve already told you why. You intrigue me. I wanna know more,” as he’s talking, her eyes wander towards his mouth for two seconds too long, making her blink her way back up to his eyes, which isn’t any better with the intense gaze they’re holding.

“Mmhm,”

“I’m not just talkin’, either.”

“I hear you, Lucky.” She rolls her eyes. This time in playful nature.

“So, what do you say? Can I take you out?”

“I suppose you can.” She smirks.

He chuckles, pulling her right hand into his left. “I need a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’.”

Sighing to herself, she gives in. “Yes, Lucky. You can take me on a date.”

“It’ll be the best you’ve been on.” He says, before moving back beside her on the sofa.

“Really, now?”

“Guaranteed, baby.” He winks, making her cheeks redden.

“Where you takin’ me?”

“You like Italian?” He asks.

“I do, actually!”

“Good to know.” He nods.

•*'¨'*•.¸¸.•*'¨'*•.¸•*'¨'*•.¸¸.•*'¨'*•.¸•*'¨'*•.¸¸.•*'¨'*•.¸•*'¨'*•.¸¸.•*'¨'*•.¸

Finally finishing her work for the day, Roni plops down on her sofa and flips through the channels.

Her phone rings, and it’s none other than Alex.

“Wassup, AJ?”

“I shoulda known not to leave you around his smooth ass,” he says, making her crack up.

“What are you talking about?”

“You goin’ on a date with that man, for real?”

“With that fine man? I sure the hell am.”

“You better be careful. One of these crazy bitches might be waiting in the bushes for his ass,” he says, making them both crack up.

“He better protect my ass!”

“Mmhm.”

“Anyway, give that boy that coat, while you’re on my line. He’s gonna turn me gray.”

“He’ll live. Maybe if he lets me do my job and make some calls like I said I would, then he’d either have it, definitely or definitely not have it.” Alex snaps.

“Oh, he’s being impatient? That’s surprising,” she laughs, thinking back to earlier.

“Definitely tell me how this date goes.”

“Will do.”

“When is it?”

“Friday evening.”

“Can I style you?”

“What the fuck?! Yes!”

“I'm not sure if I should say what I'm thinking or keep it to myself,” Lucky says, laughing to himself as they're seated across from each other.

“If it's gonna get you chin-checked, I'd rethink it.” She smiles, earning another laugh.

“Nah… you look really, really good. I mean.. damn, Roni.”

Unable to hide the blush of her cheeks under the yellow light of the overhead decor lamp, she sighs.

“Thank you, luck. You clean up nice, as well.” He'd actually worn the outfit that Alex sent over earlier.

“That means a lot, coming from you. Alex knows his shit.” He says, popping his collar.

“I see!"

“Yeah, just give him credit for the clothes though, cause pullin’ it together was all me.”

She laughs, and he gets to see her pretty smile once more.

“You're so stupid,”

“Don't bruise me so early into the evening, baby.” He playfully clutches his chest, unknowing of the effect his nickname had on her.

Shaking it off, she skims over the lengthy menu that Maggiano’s has to offer.

“Hm… pricey, pricey.”

“Yeah, get whatever you want, beautiful.” He says without missing a beat.

“Yeah, how'd you know I'd let you buy my food?”

“You'd let me take you out and not expect me to cover it?” The inquisitive expression makes her laugh.

“Yeah, I would hate to give you something to hold over my head.”

He licks his lips, and she crosses one leg over the other underneath the table.

“I would never do that.”

“Don't lie,” she laughs, taking a sip of her mai tai.

“I'm not.” He sits his menu down and holds his pinky out.

Oh, how cute.

“Oh Jesus,” she says, before holding out her own pinky.

“You ain't takin’ me serious, and I'm offended. So, I pinky promise that I'll never ever hold anything over your head and do any other bullshit that these bums have apparently tried on you. Okay?”

“Okay,” she says, and their pinkies intertwine.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you.” She bats her lashes.

He blows out a breath and sits back in his seat, telling her she's lucky she's as cute as she is.

“What happened to beautiful?” She asks, it being her turn to be offended.

“Maybe if you stop playin’ with me, you'll hear it again.”

She rolls her eyes just as the waiter comes to take their food orders, leaving them alone again.

“Before you say it, Alex made some calls about the coat. That's all I know.”

He snickers, sipping on his whiskey sour. “At least there's progress.”

“Yeah, cause I heard you're an impatient one.”

“Persistent is the word I'd use. Alex been givin' me the runaround, don't let him fool you.”

“Persistent is the perfect word for you, I agree.”

“Damn, I can't win huh?”

“Hey, you're the one who got down on your knees.” She shrugs before taking a longer sip.

“Cause you weren't taking me seriously.” He reiterates, earning another pretty chuckle from her.

“I'm glad my suffering is amusing,” he adds.

“Oh, relax. It's just so easy to get you, I can't help it.”

He sucks his teeth.

“It was kinda cute…” she admits, rolling her eyes at that damn smirk of his.

“It was, huh?”

“And that's exactly why I'll never admit to anything else.”

“Oh, come on, maybe I like messing with you too.”

“You proved that within the first five minutes of working with you,” she shakes her head, “you're lucky you're as cute as you are.”

“Where'd handsome go?”

“Same place beautiful went.” She quips.

•*'¨'*•.¸¸.•*'¨'*•.¸•*'¨'*•.¸¸.•*'¨'*•.¸•*'¨'*•.¸¸.•*'¨'*•.¸•*'¨'*•.¸¸.•*'¨'*•.¸

Between the wonderful food, two more mai tais and his teasing ass, Roni was internally hanging on by a thread.

“I'm gonna get away from you, before you get me in trouble.”

How he'd convinced her to come back to his place, she wasn't too sure, herself.

“I'm that bad?” He asks, leaning in a bit, making her eye him; the fierceness in her stare had been replaced with something much more potent.

“Too smooth for your own good,” she answers, realizing how right Alex was at this moment.

“Is that a bad thing?”

He'd gotten closer to her, and his woodsy scent was making her all types of dizzy.

“No,” she breathily responds, before leaning in the rest of the way to kiss him.

A grunt leaves him as he slides his tongue in her mouth, tangling with hers, soon pulling her into his lap.

Tasting the whiskey on his tongue and lips, she swore it added to her own intoxication.

Once his kisses trailed over to her neck, she took a moment to breathe, unable to stop the whimper that leaves her as his tongue glides across her ticklish spot.

“Want me to stop?”

The moment she shook her head, they were greenlit to get into the trouble she'd been referring to.

The next morning, the blissful moments the two shared buzzed around her sober mind as she headed into work.

Alex was the first to greet her, immediately pulling her to the side to grill her and find out the fine details of their date.

“You spread it low and wide for that man?!” He whisper-yells, making her cackle.

“I'll do it again, too.” She answers. “Now, tell me that boy can have that coat.”

“Shit, I think he earned it after that, don't you think?” He smirks.

“Whatchu think I'm askin' for?” She quips.

He sighs and heads into his side room, grabbing the teal box with a matching bow off the table and comes out with it in hand.

“For lover boy,” he says, handing it to her.

“Aw, you already had it ready! Thank you! I'll be right back.”

Heading back down the hall, she finds him in the lobby with his head in his phone.

Her scent hits his nose and he looks up, an instant smile spreading across his face.

“Hey, beautiful.” He greets her with a hug and kiss on the forehead.

“Hey, handsome. I got something for ya.” She cheeses, handing him the box.

He squints at her before removing the top, gasping at the sight of the pink coat and pulling her into another hug.

“You a real one for this, Roni.”

“Alex made the calls, but sure, I'll take all the credit.” She snickers.

“I gotta thank his big headed ass, too. But for real, I know I been buggin’ you about it.”

She shrugs. “It was no problem, really. You're kinda cute when you're being a pest.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhm.”

“Can I bug you for another date?”

“It depends on if I'm free or not,”

“Friday?”

“Mmm.. what time?”

“What time are you free?”

“I get outta here at six.”

“I'll be here.”

“I guess you've got yourself a date, then.”

“You guess, huh?”

“That's what I said.”

@thegifstories @blackerthings @blackpinup22 @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @henneseyhoe @harmshake @awerkofart @abeautifulmindexposed @twistedcharismaaa @theficplug @cecereads209 @unfriendlyblkhotti3 @trippyscotch @sheabuttahwrites @soufcakmistress @blowmymbackout @chaneajoyyy

[pawborough]

Hey all!

Apologies for the late update! I attended an overnight charity cause which left me without the ability to post for a prolonged period. I still did remote work and the team made quite a bit progress! But please forgive the delay!

First off on the agenda, to address the criticisms surrounding the previous update: we hear you!

From what our team gathered, the largest feedback we received was:

I want my ranges to be larger

I want my ranges to be smaller

To sum up, while we received positives on the idea of color sorting for ranges, we received pushback on the limiting of ranges to only a few hues at a time at any given time. 

Our solution is to broaden the amount of color you can mix. The results allow for a similar amount of curation and variation as the wheel, but with our added intent of more intuitive color mixing. 

Originally, we called this system paint mixing system, where we intended for hues to mix as you would expect paint to. I.e, you breed a red and green cat to get brown, or a blue and red cat to get purple. 

This was limiting, we understand. So. we've moved over to light mixing. Same concept, same hue/saturation/lightness rules, but now the rules of the color mixing follow that of the light spectrum as opposed to paint. 

Above is a handy chart for hue mixing. If you breed two cats of different hues, you can get a range of outcomes depending on the two hues. 

Red and blue move through pink and purple, so breeding a red and a blue cat equals pink, purple, red, or blue kits!

The best news? With this system, taking into account the hue/saturation/lightness factors, users can selectively breed for up to 118 colors on the current 221 list. Previously, only 110 were available with the wheel system. 

We hear the feedback that certain colors may be rarer than others due to hue number variation, and we're taking this into account as well with an effort to even the categories. 

Lastly, we're experimenting with higher percent chances to pass down a color if both parents meet certain parameters. Example: If both parents have Rose overcoat, we're experimenting with a higher percentage to pass down Rose overcoat, and what that percentage may be. 

Thank you everyone for such valuable feedback on our game! 

Getting a breeding demo out is very high priority! That's really our next step! We're focusing on illustrating base patterns for the starter breeds, and letting loose a breeding and creator demo before updating it with more breeds and patterns as we get closer to launch. Luckily, we've heavily streamlined this process and have a working creator ready for assets! 

Thank you so much!

Asset Update: Prancer Mars

Sometime back, we updated the mars Prancer to better utilize the space. We wanted to keep the integrity of the pose, but learned the way in which the old art became squashed very easily.

Here is a comparison shot!

Prancers will be the first priority for breed release post-launch. Wahoo!

New Fauna

Great news! We have completed last-pass sketches for almost all backer fauna!

We are waiting on responses from a select few, but we knocked out over a dozen Fauna with our backers, with approved last-pass sketches now being finalized!

Here are two recently completed!

Korg'warde

Sponsored and concepted by Kardi, designed and illustrated by Hydde

Twinklobite

Sponsored and concepted by Angel, designed and illustrated by Hydde

Can you guess what animals they are? 

New Assets: Backdrops

We have several environmental pieces to show.

First off is the Abyssal header for the site theme, should you join Abyssal!

Design and illustration by Runeowl

Next, to keep with the Abyssal theme, here is the "Abyssal Outskirts." This backdrop will be available for free if you join Abyssal!

Design and Illustration by Harriertail and Runeowl

Lastly, a piece called "Cobblestone Clearing," a Cogwheel-based backdrop that will be available to all users!

Design and illustration by Skazinbud and Runeowl

The work has been steady, quality, and the team is thrilled!

Functionality Update: User Profile and Dens 

We finished onboarding! Logged in users can now do the following, tested multiple times:

Select Borough

Create, name, and select attributes for Founder cats 

Create the first den and name the user's camp

And with the new stuff, we tackled more complicated logic. Users can now:

Create, title, delete, and edit dens to store cats

Toggle to view all cats within all dens 

Search for cat names

Organize cat positions and move cats from one den to another

And!

Edit the User Profile by adding widgets

Edit HTML/CSS boxes on the user profile 

Organize, add, remove, and save widgets and their contents 

Certain margin placements are a work in progress as we build out! It may look a bit rudimentary when lacking the CSS, but the meat of functionality is there!

Frontend designs for the majority of the functions for the cat profile, inventory, item cards, and breeding are completed, making up a huge swath of the game!

To Summarize: We shared an updated modification to the breeding algorithm, the Prancer mars, new Fauna, backdrops, and functionality in the works

What to expect next month: Further asset illustrations, frontend breeding functionality, potentially frontend staging for the cat profile 

And expect the creator + breeding demo to be our next big drop!

[imthepunchlord]

Even if it probably won't be in your overhaul, I still want to say that I really like the color coding you did in that image you made of the miracle box with just the og seven. I just like how you used the colors of the rainbow for them.

Pink - Butterfly (which for some reason, just feels fitting for it)

Red - Ladybug

Orange - Fox

Yellow - Bee

Green - Turtle (glad that was kept; green just fits it better)

Blue - Peacock

Purple - Cat (which, for some reason, just feels better for the cat, especially your version of the cat as often give it shadow powers)

Yeah I love rainbows and color wheels. If I can keep having nice color wheels going, I'm going to be happy. It's just an internal must.

And yeah, if the OG 7 got to be a full rainbow together, then the colors really work.

Nooroo just toes that line between pink and purple, but I could see going for pink more. It's a color heavily tied to love, which by extension work off making connections with others, being kind, empathetic, and compassionate (which is why this Miraculous should really go to a true social butterfly and could be why Gabriel struggles so much with it).

With Plagg, he does look purple at times, having purple fur as highlights.

And purple is often tied to mystery, power, leadership, imagination, creativity, and mysticism; all of which works well with cats.

So the Og 7 could work nice as a color wheel and rainbow.

The big drawback though is that, when all seen together, visually, it's hard to see how Ladybug and Cat are direct counterparts to each other. For to be counterparts, usually you're direct opposites, especially when on a wheel or something similar.

Working off these colors for the Og 7, there's no way to visually convey LB and Cat are counterparts as they just don't line up.

Working off the Prodigious circle of 7 and the Miracle Box itself, visually you would think Ladybug's direct counterpart would be Peafowl or Turtle. Which, makes sense as red often clashes with green or blue. And if you were looking at these two examples and you were told that Ladybug's counterpart is actually the Cat, you'd scratch your head cause they just don't line up.

And there are a few options on what could be done.

If Og 7 have to stay together and doing these colors for them, I could dismiss the canon fact that Ladybug and Cat are counterparts. One of them could be made to be the neutral 7th or they pair up with different Miraculous, and they both are just active as they're the best answer for Butterlfy.

If keeping them as counterparts, I could move Cat to green, move Turtle elsewhere, though I'd have to figure out who'd be the replacement and what color to bring in (pink, purple, indigo/violet, cyan, chartreuse). This potentially also could extend into a debate of whether Fox, Bee, and Peafowl should truly be here too as canon didn't really establish why these 7 are in a group together. All we got is really the promotion of the 7 together and that's not entirely enough.

It's even more so a forethought in my mind as I am going to have 5 groups of 7 each. And I'll have to figure out what are the reasons for these specific seven animals to be together in Group 1, why shouldn't any specific animal be in Group 2 or 3 or 5 instead?

That also has to wait until I can figure out what the 5 groups are based on as that would help decide what goes where, which unfortunately there's not a lot of 5 themes to work off of.

I'm probably overthinking a lot of it, but it's apart of the lore building and the Miraculous system of control, why certain ones have an edge over others.