#shop double line pearl sets

[srikrishnapearls]

https://backlinktrap.com/tips-to-style-your-pearl-jewelry-like-a-queen/

[pearlwithgirl]

Rendezvous

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick - f!reader

Fluffy smut (smutty fluff?) - 1163 words

TW: Alcohol

~

Here's a second "first meeting" with husband!Gaz and a delicious hint of public play.

Days like these roll by so pleasantly, languid tranquility washing over you like frothy waves. Fresh, briny air tickles your nose and mingles with the hushed cacophony of the boardwalk one street over. There’s a buzzing drone of excitement in the air. 

The sun’s kiss is so gentle on your skin as it recedes toward the horizon, lofting the waxing moon into a cotton candy kaleidoscope. The tawny sparrows carry a particularly melodious tune that flutters softly on the mellow breeze.

Pearl chiffon flutters around your upper thighs, revealing a swath of smooth skin - a midnight snack for a certain lucky someone. This dainty little number is saved for special occasions, pulled from the longest shadow of your wardrobe when you want to really turn his pretty head.

It’s shaping up to be a perfect evening, but maybe everything just tastes sweeter when you’re expecting such a ravishing nightcap. Somehow, you already feel heady, floating on a foretold fantasy. You’re already dewy at the apex of your thighs - you know you’ll be left quivering and satisfied before you nod off against a broad chest. 

Your shoes clack along the bluestone as you pass fragrant window boxes and darling storefronts. A wine shop, a pâtisserie, a florist, a gelato bar. Your eyes flutter shut for a moment - it smells like raspberries and cream with an undertone of caramel and lilac. 

You stop in front of a green building, smooth viridian cedar framing a large window. Peering through the gleaming glass as you reach for the brass handle, your eyes wander over cozy booths and varnished portraits. It’s sultry and comfortable.

A tinkling little bell announces your arrival, but that dashing patron near the back wall already saw you the second you came into view. He’s been waiting patiently.

It doesn’t matter how long ago you declared your shared forever, how deeply familiar you’ve become - you still get butterflies every time he comes into view.

The quiet murmur of conversation is obscured by a velvety jazz tune, soft crooning and lightly syncopated trombone. Your feet move in time with the strum of a double bass, carrying you closer to the familiar stranger at the bar. You feel weightless. 

He appraises you, the corner of his mouth quirking up before he takes a long sip of his drink. He looks effortlessly put-together, top two buttons undone, just a hint of his well-muscled chest peeking out from behind the deep emerald cotton. 

Behind the smooth mahogany bar top, he wears those fine Italian brogues you got him two Christmases ago. He strains against the confines of his slate grey slacks, hard from the moment he sat down and let his mind drift to back you. 

It always comes back to you.

His tasteful jewelry is washed bronze in the orangey glow of the pendant light. It clinks against his tumbler as he sets it down, licking an amber drop from his bottom lip and raising his fingers in a cheeky little wave. 

‘Come hither.’ 

Gladly.

You approach him, his eyes dragging a swooping line up your bare legs - you could get lost in those pools of cloying honey. They burn with a sinful fire already, but all you can feel is a simmering glow deep in your belly. 

You raise onto tiptoes and slide onto the plush stool, crossing your legs at the ankles and spinning to face him. He orders you a drink, something blush-pink and effervescent.

For the other patrons, the bar obscures everything below your ribs. His eyes stay just above that line, lingering on your chest before flickering up to the strand of freshwater pearls around your neck. 

He flashes a crooked smile, unashamed. He knows those pearls, and he knows what you’re here for. He’s well aware of this little game you find yourselves playing. 

He can see the minx beneath your coquettish façade. He’s perceptive, measured, with a gentle but firm confidence - that’s what originally drew you to him. The earnest charm, the devotion and witty humour - that’s what made you stick around, what firmly secured you to him with matrimonial silk.

It only took him 8 months to wrap a golden band around your ring finger, pale green moissanite and delicate filigree. The ring sits safe back home, right beside his own atop the vanity in your shared ensuite. 

“Lovely to finally meet you. It’s about time we ran into each other again. All those glimpses through the crowd - you look even better up close.”  He holds out a well-manicured hand, cool rings brushing your palm. “I’m Kyle.”

The fun begins. 

You introduce yourself in return, playing along, acting like you don’t know each other inside-and-out already. Every inch, every last dip and swell.

Conversation flows smoothly. “How’ve you been?”, “How long are you in town?”, “Have you been here before?” - standard fare. The real conversation lies between the lines. It plays out as batting lashes, shared sensual glances, and eventually, a hand creeping up past your knee. 

Long digits skate up your naked thigh, pausing just as he brushes against your soaked centre. Pearly canines emerge as he smiles, and his expression warms up as he dips two slender fingers into you.

Your breath is caught in your throat, the moment hanging hot and heavy. He pulls them out, glistening, and raises them up to his lips, sucking them clean with a pop. The bartender catches the noise, and he turns his attention to Kyle just as he pops a maraschino cherry into his mouth. 

He chews, swallows, and gives his compliments to the bartender before asking for the joint bill. 

“Absolutely delicious.” He raves, one hand still gripping your thigh. The dapper man behind the counter is none the wiser.

Kyle stands up and sneakily adjusts his growing bulge, peering down at you, wordless. He grabs your hand and raises it to kiss the silky skin right above the naked area that’s usually sheltered in gold. Leisurely, he pulls the same hand down to his side pocket, and you reach in. 

Your fingertips brush the crinkly foil packet of a condom, and just beyond it, the polished plastic of a room key. His stare locks onto you, cat-like, and those sly eyes trace a path to the picture window behind two oblivious revelers.  You follow the line, half-lidded gaze landing on the ritzy hotel across the plaza. You pluck out the smooth key and he tips his head to you, a brief farewell. 

He struts around the bar and out the door with a ringing chime, and you watch him stride across cobblestones and around the glittering fountain, coming to a stop just before the threshold. He swings his head around slowly and instantly finds you through the pane, now transparent with the withdrawn sun. 

Just close enough to perceive, you catch a wink before he turns back around and pushes through the oak double doors, disappearing around a corner and up to his suite to await your arrival.

[thequeenofthedisneyverse]

Palia tailoring job ideas but more in depth

I've been thinking long and hard about this idea and, with other research, think this skill could work without harming the buyable cosmetics.

So, I think the level should start out with us asking to be Jel's apprentice because we're interested in making clothes. Of course, Jel being the sweetheart he is, would say yes. BUT, before he accepts us, he would like to see if we made anything and show it to him to see where/ what area we need help in.

Of course, to start the level off, our answer would be no, so then Jel would open the guild store and give us the recipes needed to make a few outfits.

A sewing machine, mannequin, dye bowl/bucket, and a few scraps of fabric with new pattern recipes should be free. Once we have the items, we can we add the color combinations and patterns of our choice to the outfit.

The first outfit we should have access to is the simply stitched/roughhewn set.

Level 1:

Fabric rack (like from Jel’s shop) - free. We can make other types of fabric and store it there for future projects.

Sewing machine recipe - free

Mannequin recipe - free

Cotton/wool recipe - free

Leather (already can make that with the loom)

A recipe to the simply stitched and/or roughhewn set - free

Simply classic set - free

And summer short set - free

This is a level we should also level up quick in. Right after we finish making the pants we should almost be on level 2 kind of fast. Once we're done, we take the outfits to Jel and after that he unlocks level 2 and the items that come with it.

And no, we wouldn't have to choose both sets, just pick one and decorate.

Level 2: Other fabrics, tops, and bottoms

Fabric rack update - free

Sewing machine update - free

Mannequin recipe update - free

Linen - 800 gold

Flax - 700 gold

Jute - 600 gold

Cashmere - 500 gold

Sisal - 400 gold

Bamboo (maybe we could possibly make fabric out of flow branches/bark?) - 300 gold

Abaca (some plant in Palia could be a substitute for that) - 200 gold

There’s fabric called “camel hair”, so the substitute for that should be chapaa, Ormuu, or muujin fur - 100 gold

Village vibes set - free?

Village summer set

And village sweater set

Level 3: Necklaces and a few more outfits

Fabric rack update - free

Sewing machine update - free

Mannequin recipe update - free

Pearl necklace recipe - 5 gold

Festoon necklace recipe- 10 gold

Beaded necklace recipe - 15 gold

Initial necklace recipe- 20 gold

Sautoir recipe - 25 gold

Torque recipe- 30 gold

Lariat recipe - 35 gold

Graduated necklace recipe- 40 gold

collar/choker recipe- 45 - gold

Pendant recipe - 50 gold

Track suit, sunlight,

Level 4:

Bracelets - 5 gold

Waist beads recipe - 10 gold

Huggie earring - 15 gold

Chandelier earring - gold 20

C-hoop earring - 25 gold

Bajoran earrings - 30 gold

Tassel earrings - 35 gold

Shoulder duster earrings - 45 gold

rider, laced up, and Classic tunic should be 50 gold each.

Level 5:

Both of these two outfits should cost 50 gold.

Seeing as it's the end of the line for the free clothes this level can introduce new clothing items. As well as future levels.

Accordion skirt - 1 gold

Asymmetrical skirt - 2 gold

box pleated skirt - 3 gold

bubble skirt - 4 gold

circle skirt - 5 gold

Cooking apron recipe (Like Reth's) - 10 gold

Apron recipe like Tish's - 15 gold

Chapaa hat recipe - free

Mushroom hat recipe - 20 gold

Frog hat recipe - 25 gold

Sunhat w/ flowers recipe - 30 gold

Pheonix hat- 35 gold

Dragon hat - 40 gold

Chef hat - 45 gold

Head mannequin recipe- 50 gold

Level 6: Introduced to new clothing such as dresses, vests, and shoes. These will have recipes attached of course, but hopefully the items needed will be in your inventory.

“Peasant” dress

Bouffant dress

Empire dress

A-line dress

Sun dress

Wrap dress

Basic vest

Asymmetric vest

U-neck vest

Four pocket vest

Double breasted vest

Chelsea boots

Desert boots

Level 7: These will have recipes attached of course, but hopefully the items needed will be in your inventory.

Brogues shoes - 1 gold

Oxford shoes - 2 gold

Derby shoes - 3 gold

Ankle boots - 4 gold

Cowboy boots - 5 gold

Knee boots - 6 gold

Chukka boots - 7 gold

Espadrilles  - 8 gold

draped skirt - 9 gold

godet skirt - 10 gold

Gypsy skirt - 12 gold

Layered skirt - 13 gold

Paneled skirt - 14 gold

ruffled skirt - 15 gold

Yoke-waist skirt - 16 gold

Level 8: Really fancy stuff (There should be some sort of way for you to choose different necklines as well.)

Tea-length ball gown

Classic ball gown

A-line ball gown

Mermaid ball gown

Empire waist ball gown

Trumpet ball gown

Barrette

Aigrette

Comb

Ferronnièr

Drop earrings

Threader earrings

Silk gloves

Level 9: (I know the suits are oddly specific but bear with me here.)

Mismatched earrings

Cuff earrings

Teardrop earrings

Dangle earrings

Cluster earrings

Barbell earrings

Crawler earrings

Circular barbell earrings

Fingerless gloves

Wire hook earrings

Single breasted - one button peak lapel suit

Single breasted - one button notch lapel suit

Single breasted - two button notch lapel suit

Single breasted - one button shawl lapel suit

Single breasted - three button notch lapel suit

Single breasted - five button notch lapel suit

Single breasted - four buttons bal collar suit

Single breasted - five button jewel neckline

Side note: The way you could level up faster with these is by gifting the outfits to other players. A cute idea would be a player selecting someone under the tailoring skill jurisdiction and sending an outfit idea they had in mind that they would like to wear in game. A small way for players to help each other out.

This commenter gave me that idea, I also love the story line option.

To add to my other ideas, once you're done with the outfit you can store it in your closet. Did I mention you can mix and match the outfits? Yeah, you should be able to do that to

Maybe in the closet you can keep a file ranging from pants, skirts, dresses, and tops. That way you can easily pick a file for an item, put it on, and go to the next file.

Level 10 should be the last level (Because there is literally nothing else, I can think to add for further levels.)

If you have any ideas for what I could add (or a better way to arrange this to not make the levels look messy) let me know because I feel like there are things I'm missing.

Also, the reason I priced everything so low is because things in palia are expensive. Even with in-game currency.

[fountainpenguin]

"I keep pushin' forward, but he keeps pullin' me backwards... (Don't pick up the phone; don't let him in; don't be his friend...)" (x)

Top 10 Hanahaki Life Hacks (#8 Will Shock You)

Sour Petals AU Guide

❤️ Read on AO3

🧡 M - Ongoing multichapter

���� Blog Tag - #Sour Petals AU

💚 More MCYT AUs

And she should apologize, but the words that gush out are more like, “You cheated on me,” which isn’t an apology at all. Unless it is (between the lines). Martyn winces, still shaking coffee from his arm. “I was coming back… I just took the wrong subway car. I swear… I was coming back.” No. No, not this again. Cat and yarn; hold the mouse. Cleo’s nails dig into the lines in her palms, scraping out cinnamon flecks. “Martyn, Scott heard it from Pearl’s mouth. Just… Tell me you were drunk or something. At least try to make up a story I’ll believe. Do you even care? Am I just…? Does it even matter to you, what I think?” And with a hasty backpedal, “If she took advantage, you can tell me. You can tell me. She’s Scott’s ex anyway; I’ve got her blocked everywhere I could think of. We never talk.” “It was late and I boarded the wrong subway,” Martyn says again, but he is lying. It’s always an excuse; never an apology.

Martyn coughs up flowers for years after the divorce, making bank as a florist, dye salesman, painter... anything he can put his on-and-off Hanahaki disease to use for.

Cleo just wants to move on.

Double Life SMP & Limited Life SMP-themed Hanahaki AU, set in a modern Hermitcraft universe

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

New Rules

- 🥀 -

Martyn Littlewood started dyeing at age 31.

Every day, 6:15 AM, Cleo stands by the stairs that lead down to the subway, waiting by the window while Martyn rips flowers from his skin. The stems snap off, but the roots remain. They’ve got him so fiercely, tongue-tied and ripped apart, that every time he laughs, he sounds more undead than alive. How many surgeries can a florist afford to get those things removed? Or does he do it all himself? He looks awful sometimes (especially in the summer) when thorny vines wrap his arms and legs. Sometimes his arms hang like limp meat at his sides. The tubes, canes, and chairs he uses look increasingly expensive.

32-year-old Martyn Littlewood runs the flower shop in Aqua Town. Cleo’s stepped through that door to stand among lush, strong-scented plants more times than she’d care to admit. They’re… cordial. At least, Martyn doesn’t seem to hate her. She’s never hated him.

“Well, you’ve made me a rich man. I don’t spend a lick on material. It just comes to me.” He crushes blue petals with a squeeze of his hand. Cleo grips her bag in one hand, gazing back over the rims of her sunglasses. Martyn has stitch marks up and down his face. All over his hands. There’s one right across his forehead. He wears a neck brace now. Or if it’s not a brace, it’s some sort of bandage. All her own marks are zombie-themed tattoos. They fit her zombie aesthetic. The aesthetic came first. He smiles, painfully from behind the counter, and threads baby’s breadth in a bouquet as a filler flower. It’s coming back in style, he says, after a decade of it being overdone. Honestly, Cleo doesn’t get why he even tries selling the flowers; he should stick to dye. Everything is dying here. Except his energy, when he says, “What brought you in here, m’dude? Hot date tonight?”

There’s silk and chocolate in his voice. It catches her through the gut, like she tripped and speared herself on a stalagmite. Uh. Cleo lifts one finger to the window. “You took down your neopronouns sign. I just wanted to ask what’s up; if you’re okay.”

The sign was mangrove wood and cut in the shape of a peony. Martyn flicks his eyes to the place it used to hang, then goes back to work. “Aw, that… Well, flower pronouns aren’t super practical when I’m in the shop. I’m looking for others. Something more versatile. Nothing has that same rush, but I’m not giving up.”

That makes sense. Does that make sense? He doesn’t look at her. “You’re still wearing your wedding ring,” she says without thinking. Martyn stops. His eyes stay pinned on the nearest wilting rose.

“Yeah. Are you not cool with that?”

It’s not a challenge, but she knows he’d shove back if she pushed. It’s easier, running fingers through her hair. “Honestly, it’s fine. Mine’s still on the bathroom counter. I see it every day. Sometimes I still wear it. Mostly when I’m out with Scott or Cub.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Martyn nods. His hands move again, fluffing the tiny flowers from below. “People talk.”

“They do.”

He clears his throat in his fist. Cleo moves away, examining the fridges in the back so he can cough up petals without an ex hovering around him. His coughs are thick and damp. He stands and leaves the room.

- 🌹 -

Martyn’s work often took him away from Hermit Hills. He and his best friend ran a summer camp called Dogwarts out in the flats, in that little piece of rumpled land that sat too near the desert for the local farmers to take an interest. She met Martyn because of that camp, actually, when they were 24 and 25 and he reached out with a little Hey, I love your work and we’re mutual friends with Scott and Pearl email to ask if she’d do a presentation on insects and other forest wildlife for the kids. He said his usual presenter was out tagging eagles that week, and honestly… Where do you even go from that? He and Ren offered good money, too. She could probably type up her research remotely for a few days. A few weeks. Even if she didn’t make as much progress as she’d like, the network opportunity might be worth its weight in diamond blocks.

“You should,” Scott encouraged when she called him up to check if this Martyn guy really was his friend. “Pearl and I are counselors. We can all hang out together! And you can tell the kids about that time you bottle-fed the bear cubs.”

… Yeah, all right. She worked more often with bats, but talking about the bear cubs always turns eyes her way. Wildlife rehabilitation isn’t really a standalone career, and that’s a good thing to prepare kids for at an animal-lovers camp. She could still smell the baby formula blended with blueberries, the cubs with creamy droplets smeared across their muzzles and cheeks.

She took the offer. Three weeks later, there she was… Camp Dogwarts and its insects, poison ivy, and whatever else lay waiting for her. Cleo basked a few last seconds in the bliss of the air conditioning, then switched off the car and stepped into summer sun. Martyn and Ren both shook her hand, beaming. He/him or flower/rose. He/they/it or neopronouns that fit a canine theme. They said it back to back, fluidly and effortless.

Cleo paused. Then, “She/her professionally. I’ve… considered experimenting, but my social life’s been tied to work for so long, I don’t know where to start.” With Scott, obviously, but pronouns sounded like such a big commitment. Ren clasped their hands; if they’d had a tail, it would have wagged. And he probably would have loved that.

“Oh, dude! We have so much to talk about! Can I call you ‘dude?’”

“Sure. That’s fine.”

Martyn gave the tour while Ren and the counselors kept an eye on the kids. The hilltop pergola made a perfect lookout point. Martyn shielded his eyes, then pointed across the field to a second hilltop building in the distance. “Bean Hill. Rrrrright over there, that’s the edge of camp.”

His eyes? Flower’s eyes? She understood the pronouns in theory, though trying to wrap her mind around them left her suddenly aware of everything she didn’t know. She felt like she’d been stripped, her clothes dunked in the lake. “Cozy place,” she replied. “You and Ren built all this?”

“Yes, ma’am! Placed every block with our own four hands.” And they talked about that, soaking in the sunlight, until Cleo asked the itchy question that wouldn’t leave her thoughts alone.

“Real quick… You don’t have to get into it, but how did you find neopronouns that were right for you? Or… how did you decide to take that leap? I imagine people talk. Ask a lot of questions. So, you must be pretty committed to them if you share them openly.”

Martyn gazed out across the hill, sighing through his(?) nose. “I use them at camp. Not so much at home. I don’t dare discuss it with my parents.” Then, leaning rose’s shoulder (was that right?) on the pergola support, flower said, “You know that discourse that goes around every once in awhile about gift giving being a ‘selfish’ love language? Or have you ever heard someone talk about how they’d never be able to stand dating someone who sort of expected gifts throughout the year?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s like that. I’ve always thought gift giving wasn’t so much about what was given as it was about the thought that you exist in someone’s mind even when you’re not there in front of them. Like, they care enough about you, they wanted you to know they saw something and thought of you. When someone puts the thought into my pronouns… it means they thought about me. And the world is better.” Flower bent down and pulled a dandelion from the grass. “Ren says it would probably be called it/its more often if it really did have a werewolf form, and sometimes that feels good and sometimes it’s lonely. I dunno… Everyone’s just out here getting by, I guess. It’s worth having something to smile about every day. Neopronoun use is like that for me. Free smiles in the tip jar.”

“I’m not sure tips are free.”

❤️ Read on AO3

[chicinsilk]

Large square bag in calfskin. By Nettie Rosenstein.

Wicker bag constructed like a briefcase, with faux gold handles and a lock closure. By Koret.

Square bag with fake golden medallion clasp. By Nettie Rosenstein, in calf leather.

White four-button gloves in crocodile-print double-weave Du Pont nylon. By Hansen.

Calf leather bag, long and low version of number three. By Nettie Rosenstein.

French amber narrow frame glasses, rectangular lenses. Delivered in a leather case. By Lugene.

Square bag with accordion pleated sides. By Nettie Rosenstein in calf leather.

Two sculpted coral oriental head pins: one set with turquoises, diamonds and gold beads; the other studded with pearls, emeralds and a ruby set in gold. All from Cartier.

Wicker shopping bag, lined with leather. By Koret.

Chiffon scarf, 34" square, printed with a cloud pattern in coral and rust. By Echo.

Grand sac carré en peau de veau. Par Nettie Rosenstein.

Sac en osier construit comme une mallette, avec de fausses poignées dorées et une fermeture à serrure. Par Koret.

Sac carré avec fermoir faux médaillon doré. Par Nettie Rosenstein, en cuir de veau.

Gants blancs à quatre boutons en nylon Du Pont à double tissage imprimé façon crocodile. Par Hansen.

Sac en cuir de veau, version longue et basse du numéro trois. Par Nettie Rosenstein.

Lunettes à monture étroite en ambre français, verres rectangulaires. Livré dans un étui en cuir. Par Lugène.

Sac carré avec côtés plissés en accordéon. Par Nettie Rosenstein en cuir de veau.

Deux épingles de têtes orientales en corail sculptées : l'une sertie de turquoises, de diamants et de perles en or ; l'autre parsemée de perles, d'émeraudes et d'un rubis serti d'or. Tout de Cartier.

Cabas en osier, doublé cuir. Par Koret.

Foulard en mousseline de soie, carré de 34 po, imprimé d'un motif de nuages ​​de couleur corail et rouille. Par Echo.

US Vogue 1, January 1963

Photo Bert Stern/Grisby

vogue archive

[daggerzine]

MY FAVORITE RECORDS OF 2022 (all lists are in no particular order)

MY 20 FAVORITE RECORDS OF 2022

The Jeanines- Don’t Wait for a Sign (Slumberland)

Arts & Leisure- This Vast Illusion (self released)

Mick Trouble- It’s Mick Trouble’s Second LP! (Emotional Response)

Model Shop- Love Interest (Meritorio)

The Photocopies- Greatest Hits Volume 2 and Hopelessly Devoted (both self released)

Hammered Hulls- Careening (Dischord)  

Michael Head & the Red Elastic band- Dear Scott (Modern Sky UK)

The Reds Pinks and Purples- Summer at Land’s End

(Slumberland)  

Winged Wheel- No Island (12XU)

The Boys with the Perpetual Nervousness- The Third Wave of…  (Bobo Integral)  

Sick Thoughts- Heaven is No Fun (Total Punk)

Horsegirl- Versions of Modern Performance  (Matador)  

First Aid Kit- Palomino  (Columbia)

Dot Dash- Madman in the Rain (The Beautiful Music)

Superchunk- Wild Loneliness (Merge)

Ribbon Stage- Hit With The Most (Perennial/ K)

Artsick- Fingers Crossed (Slumberland)

Belle & Sebastian- A Bit of Previous (Matador)

Non Bruises- S/T (self released)

The Sadies- Colder Streams (Yep Roc)

HERE’S 20 MORE!

Panda Bear & Sonic Boom- Reset (Domino)

Papercuts- Past Life Regression (Slumberland)

Weak Signal- War and War (Colonel Records)

Librarians with Hickeys- Handclaps and Tambourines (Big Stir)

The Well Wishers- Blue Sky Sun (self released)

Armstrong- Happy Graffiti (The Beautiful Music)

The Reds Pinks and Purples- They Only Wanted Your Soul (Slumberland)  

Savak- Human Error/ Human Delight (Ernest Jenning)

Freezing Hands- It Was a Good Run (Dateland)

April March- In Cinerama (Omnivore)

Kids on a Crime Spree – Fall In Love Not In Line (Slumberland) 

Young Guv- III & IV  (Run for Cover Records)

U.S. Highball- A Parkhead Cross of the Mind (Lame-O)

Flowertown- Half Yesterday (Mt St Mtn)

Ex-Void- Bigger Than Before (Don Giovanni)

Tony Molina- In the Fade (Summer Shade)

Field School- When Summer Comes (Bobo Integral)

My Raining Stars- 89 Memories (Shelflife)

Kevin Robertson- Teaspoon of Time (Futureman)

Hater- Sincere (Fire)

…..AAAAAAAAND 10 MORE!

Almost Charlie- A Whisper in a World Too Loud (Words on Music)  

The Orchids- Dreaming Kind (Skep Wax) 

 Aarktica- We Will Find the Light (Darla)  

Extra Arms- What Is Even Happening Right Now? (Forge Again Records)

The Silent Boys- Sand To Pearls, Coal To Diamonds (Too Good to Be True Records)

The Smashing Times- Bloom (Meritorio)

The Bye Bye Blackbirds- August Lightning Complex (Double Potion Records)

The Beths- Expert in a Dying Field (Carpark)

Ghost Power- S/T (Duophonic)

Peter Astor- Time on Earth (Tapete)

I ALSO LIKED ALBUMS BY……Dazy, Eyelids, Desario, Hoodoo Gurus, Salt Lake Alley, Helen Love, Kramies, The Monochrome Set,  Anton Barbeau, Cozy Slippers, The Chesterfields, Rob Moss and Skintight Skin, Lewsberg, Richard X. Heyman, The Claudettes, Surf Piranhas, Kiwi Jr, Sault, Nervous Twitch, New Buck Biloxi, Heather Trost, Fine, Alien Nose Job, Kevin Morby, Ward White, Spiritualized , Click Beetles, Whimsical, Man’s Body, Wet Leg, The Minders,  Water Damage, Star Party, The Paranoid Style, Alvvays, Chronophage, Rolling Blackouts CF, The Happy Somethings, The Umbrella Puzzles, Zac Denton, Northern Portrait, Volebeats, Your Academy, Aluminum Group, Guy Capecelatro, Jon Spencer & the Hitmakers, The Trypes, Jeremy, etc. etc.

MY 10 FAVORITE REISSUES/COLLECTIONS of 2022  

Tall Dwarfs- Unravelled - 1981-2002 (Merge)

Broadcast- BBC Maida Vale Sessions (Warp)

Heavenly- Heavenly Vs Satan (Skep Wax)

Biff  Bang Pow! -Better Life: Complete Creations 1984-1991 (Cherry Red)

Go Sailor- S/T (Slumberland)

The Lucksmiths- Why That Doesn’t Surprise me and  Naturaliste (both Lost and Lonesome)

The Krayolas- Happy Go Lucky (Box Records)

The Flashing Lights- Where the Change Is (Murder)

The Muffs- Really Really Happy (Omnivore)

My Teenage Stride- Singles and B-sides (digital)

MY 15 FAVORITE EP’s OF 2022

The Chills- Scatterbrain Storm Outtakes (Fire)

Elk City- Above the Door (Magic City)

The 1981 - Polaroids EP (Dandy Boy)

The Persian Leaps- Machines for Living (Land Ski Records)

The Photocopies- Departure P (self released)

R.E. Seraphin- Swingshift EP (Dandy Boy/Mt St Mtn)

My Favorite- Tender is the Nightshift part 1 (HHBTM)

The Black Watch- The Neverland of Spoken Things (digital)

The Radio Field- Time Simple EP (Subjangle)

The Wends- It’s Here Where You Fall (Subjangle)  

Michael Beach- 2022 EP (Goner)

The Laughing Chimes- Zoo Ave (Slumberland)

My Raining Stars- The Life We planned (digital)

The Age of Colored Lizards (Perfect Smile (Sotron)  

Field School- Swainson’s Thrush (Small Craft Advisory)

The Lunar Towers- Hurry Up and Wait (Colorama Records)

[pearllemon-classics]

Finding Your Tribe: Revving Up a Community Among Classic Car Aficionados

The world of classic cars isn’t just about chrome, gasoline, and rumbling engines (though those are undeniably delightful perks). It’s about a shared passion, a connection to a bygone era, and the camaraderie that blossoms around a love for these automotive time machines. But for those who’ve just stepped onto the scene, navigating this vibrant community can feel a bit like trying to double-clutch a stick shift for the first time — a thrilling prospect, but potentially intimidating.

Fear not, fellow gearhead! This guide will equip you with the tools to find your tribe within the classic car community. Buckle up, and let’s hit the road!

The Allure of the Classic

Classic cars are more than just vehicles; they’re rolling testaments to human ingenuity and design evolution. From the sleek lines of Art Deco masterpieces to the musclebound icons of the 60s and 70s, each era boasts its own automotive character. Owning (or simply admiring) a classic car allows you to connect with a specific period in automotive history, a tangible link to the past.

Beyond the Garage: Building Your Network

The true magic of the classic car scene unfolds when you connect with others who share your passion. Here are some key ways to find your tribe:

Car Shows and Events: Immerse yourself in the vibrant world of classic car gatherings. Local car shows, club events, and rallies offer a fantastic opportunity to mingle with fellow enthusiasts, admire a breathtaking array of vehicles, and potentially discover hidden gems tucked away in someone’s garage.

Online Forums and Communities: The internet has become a haven for classic car enthusiasts. Online forums and communities allow you to connect with people from all corners of the globe who share your specific interests. Whether you’re a die-hard Mustang aficionado or a devotee of quirky British microcars, there’s a virtual space waiting to welcome you.

Social Media Groups: Social media platforms like Facebook and Instagram are teeming with classic car groups. These groups often organise online discussions, share restoration tips and tricks, and even plan real-life meetups.

From Lurker to Leader: Participating in the Community

Once you’ve found your niche, it’s time to actively engage! Here are some tips for contributing meaningfully:

Be a Helpful Gearhead: The classic car community thrives on shared knowledge. If you possess specific expertise (whether it’s engine overhauls or sourcing rare parts), don’t hesitate to share your wisdom. Helping others not only strengthens the community but also establishes you as a valuable resource.

Don’t Be Shy, Share Your Ride!: Most classic car enthusiasts are incredibly proud of their automotive companions. Share photos and stories about your car on forums, social media, or even at car shows. You might be surprised by the interesting conversations and connections that spark from a shared love for a particular make or model.

Organise Events: If you find yourself yearning for a more specific gathering within the broader classic car community, take the initiative! Organise local cruises, themed car shows, or even casual get-togethers at a mechanic’s shop. You’d be surprised at how many people share your niche passion.

Beyond the Wrench: Shared Experiences Build Lasting Bonds

The classic car community isn’t just about tinkering with engines and debating carburetor settings. It’s about forging connections and sharing unforgettable experiences. Here are some ideas to consider:

Classic Car Tours: Imagine cruising the open road in your beloved classic, surrounded by stunning scenery and fellow enthusiasts. Companies like Pearl Lemon Classics curate bespoke tours that combine the thrill of driving a classic car with the historical significance of iconic racetracks and legendary events.

Volunteer at Restoration Projects: Getting your hands dirty on a community restoration project is a fantastic way to contribute to the preservation of automotive history while bonding with fellow enthusiasts.

Organise Charity Rallies: Combine your love for classic cars with a good cause! Organise charity rallies where participants pay a registration fee that goes towards a worthy organisation. It’s a fantastic way to showcase your classic beauties while giving back to the community.

The Open Road Awaits: Finding Your Place in the Classic Car Tribe

The classic car community is a welcoming space filled with passionate individuals who share your love for these automotive marvels. By actively participating, sharing your knowledge, and organising events, you’ll not only enrich your own classic car experience but also contribute to the vibrant tapestry of this unique community. So, fire up the engine, hit the gas, and get ready to discover the camaraderie and joy that awaits you on the open road!

[southindianjewellry]

Shop Krishnajewellers.com for Haram Sets with Double Line Polki Necklaces for Regal Radiance.

With our magnificent Double Line Polki Necklace Haram Sets, available only at Krishnajewellers.com, you can accentuate your elegance. With two magnificent lines of Polki gemstones that are expertly carved to grace your neckline with unsurpassed luminosity, each pair is the epitome of refinement and opulence. These sets are a statement of sophisticated elegance because they radiate timeless beauty and grace, making them perfect for weddings, lavish events, or special occasions. Savor the unparalleled magnificence of Polki artistry and lose yourself in the charm of aristocratic history. Only at Krishnajewellers.com can you discover the alluring beauty of Double Line Polki Necklace Haram Sets and adorn yourself in classic splendor.

[sparklingvows]

11 Out of Box Kaleri for Modern Brides

In the realm of wedding traditions, few adornments hold as much significance and beauty as kaleeris. These delicate, dangling ornaments, traditionally worn by brides, symbolize blessings, good luck, and marital happiness. While rooted in tradition, kaleeris have evolved over time to reflect the changing tastes and styles of modern brides. 

Sparkling Vows, a trailblazer in the world of bridal accessories, redefining kaleeris for the contemporary bride.

At Sparkling Vows, we understand that today's brides seek more than just tradition; they crave individuality, creativity, and a touch of modern flair in every aspect of their wedding ensemble. That's why we've embarked on a journey to revolutionize bridal kaleeris, offering a diverse range of designs that cater to the eclectic tastes of modern brides.

The Collection

Our kaleeri collection at Sparkling Vows is a celebration of diversity, innovation, and timeless elegance. From minimalist marvels to boho chic delights, each design is crafted with meticulous attention to detail and a deep understanding of bridal aesthetics.

The Minimalist Marvel: For the bride who believes in the beauty of simplicity, our minimalist kaleeris offer understated elegance and sophistication.

Boho Chic Bliss: Embrace your inner bohemian goddess with kaleeris adorned with intricate patterns, feathers, and natural elements, perfect for a whimsical, free-spirited bride.

Vintage Glamour: Transport yourself to a bygone era with kaleeris inspired by vintage glamour, featuring intricate filigree work, pearls, and crystals reminiscent of old-world charm.

Floral Fantasy: Bring the beauty of nature to your bridal ensemble with kaleeris adorned with delicate floral motifs, evoking a sense of romance and femininity.

Art Deco Darling: Make a statement with kaleeris inspired by the Art Deco movement, featuring geometric shapes, bold lines, and a touch of Gatsby glamour.

Fusion Finesse: Celebrate your cultural heritage with kaleeris that seamlessly blend traditional elements with contemporary design, honoring your roots while embracing modernity.

Edgy Elegance: Dare to be different with kaleeris that push the boundaries of convention, featuring avant-garde shapes, unconventional materials, and a bold, fearless attitude.

Whimsical Wonder: Add a playful touch to your bridal look with kaleeris adorned with charms, trinkets, and whimsical details that capture the joy and magic of your special day.

Regal Reverie: Channel your inner queen with kaleeris fit for royalty, dripping in opulent pearls, crystals, and exquisite craftsmanship that exude luxury and sophistication.

Artistic Allure: Make a statement with hand-painted kaleeris that double as wearable works of art, showcasing your unique style and personality in every brushstroke.

Futuristic Flair: Embrace the future of bridal fashion with sleek, futuristic kaleeris that redefine tradition, featuring clean lines, metallic accents, and a contemporary aesthetic that's truly ahead of its time.

Why Sparkling Vows?

At Sparkling Vows, we believe that every bride deserves to feel like the truest, most authentic version of herself on her wedding day. That's why we've curated a kaleeri collection that celebrates diversity, creativity, and individuality, offering something for every bride, regardless of her personal style or cultural background.

With our commitment to quality craftsmanship, attention to detail, and exceptional customer service, we strive to make the bridal shopping experience as memorable and magical as the wedding day itself. From the moment you set eyes on our kaleeris to the moment you walk down the aisle, we're here to help you sparkle and shine every step of the way.

Join the Sparkling Vows Community

Ready to elevate your bridal ensemble with a kaleeri that's as unique and beautiful as you are? Explore our collection at Sparkling Vows and discover the perfect adornment to complete your wedding look. Whether you're a minimalist bride, a bohemian dreamer, or a vintage vixen, we've got the perfect kaleeri waiting for you.

Join the Sparkling Vows community today and let us help you make your wedding day dreams come true. With Sparkling Vows, your journey to "I do" begins with a sparkle and ends with a vow to love, honor, and cherish forever.

[ledenews]

Belgian Waffle Shop Soon to Debut in Downtown Wheeling

The rebirth of downtown Wheeling can be attributed to a number of factors, one of which is food. In particular, the expanse of local eateries offering either upscale cuisines or unique dining menus and experiences has greatly added to the number of options in the downtown area. There are now “go-to” places to eat along the streets in downtown Wheeling, and resident Tara Kobasko is hoping to add another to the growing list of popular destinations in the next few months. Kobasko is ready to offer her take on a European-style experience in a completely renovated building space located at 1209 Market Street in Wheeling. The Belgian Waffle Shop is located right next to the Vagabond Kitchen and across from the McLure House Hotel. It’s the site of the former computer repair shop, a storefront that’s sat vacant for quite a number of years. “It’s a traditional European-style shop, so everything is made in front of you, from making the waffles and topping them off, to making (coffee) in the French press, waiting for it to steep,” Kobasko began. “It’s a slower concept in Europe. People are more relaxed. They take their time and enjoy their meals and the experience.” It’s with this experience in mind that Kobasko set out to design her shop. Background music will be played, but don’t look for televisions, flashy tech, and other distractions. This is a place to enjoy the food, and the people you’ve come with; a place to enjoy conversations and time spent. “One of my goals is to bring that back because I feel we’re getting further and further away from that,” Kobasko said. “I want people to come in with their families and experience something different. I want to see the looks on the kids' faces as their  (food) is being made and see the interactions with people. “It’s a place to bond over and a way for people to get back in touch. They can sit down, enjoy the moment and have some fun.” Kobasko knows the concept may not be for everyone because many people rush through all aspects of their lives. They want to place their order, have it ready near immediately, then rush out the door while eating on the go and getting back to whatever they were doing. That’s not what The Belgian Waffle Shop is about. Vanilla Bean Double triple chocolate The Food No, this isn’t going to be the Ohio Valley’s take on Roscoe’s House of Chicken ’N Waffles, a famous eatery from the greater Los Angeles area. But Kobasko noted chicken-and-waffles will make its way to the menu eventually, along with a number of savory options. Waffle cookies For now, the menu will be all about dessert waffles. From the double triple chocolate to the vanilla bean and all creations sweet, The Belgian Waffle Shop plans to provide those delectable flavors that pair perfectly with warm creations brewed in the French press. But where did the idea come from? “My partner and I were trying to come up with ideas and nothing was really sticking. We couldn’t find an idea we were jointly excited about and he mentioned that he’d bought a waffle maker,” Kobasko recalled. “I told him that I had a dream that we were supposed to serve waffles and he told me about a trip he and his mother made to the North Carolina area and that they went to a shop that served Belgian waffles with ice cream. “I was like why aren’t we doing that? Nobody is doing that. We should bring that back to (Wheeling).” That’s how the concept was born. Kobasko already made a tasty version of Belgian waffle cookies utilizing a mini waffle press she owns. The menu and creations grew from there. Kobasko did stress that she uses as many all-natural ingredients as possible to bring out her flavors. She sticks with real Belgian pearl sugar, cane sugar, and organic eggs. “I’m really big on wanting to be clean and I do want to be able to grow to where I can offer a big line of vegan and non-dairy options,” Kopako said. “I don’t think there’s a big selection in this area for that and I’d love to be able to offer that. “A really big goal of mine is to serve chicken and waffles and other savory waffles. I plan on making it happen, but the (dessert-style) is where we’re starting.” Before and after photos of the transformation of the former computer repair shop. The Long Road This is Kobasko’s second attempt at owning her own business in the Ohio Valley and, fingers crossed, this goes better than her first experience. Back in late 2019, Kobasko found a building, renovated it, and went on to open her own modeling agency. Two months in, COVID happened, restrictions were set in place, and Kobasko’s new office was rendered useless. “I started the agency and then, two months later, I couldn’t even open up my doors because of COVID,” She said. “I was in and paying for a building that I couldn’t even work out of.” The road to getting the waffle shop open hasn’t been without its challenges either. Kobasko’s leased the building for nearly the last two years. It housed the former computer repair shop and just gutting the ground floor took work. "I had a modeling agency, I started it and two months later, couldn’t open up my door because of covid, in a building, paying for a building, can’t even work out of “I had to unbolt all the desks from the floor, and they were heavy, old wood,” Kobasko said. “I had to lug all of that out, rip up the carpeters—it just wasn’t used for so long it was a lot of work clearing it out. I was certainly sweating.” After the clear-out, Kobasko discovered a lot of remodeling would be needed to get the ground floor ready to house her eatery. A full tear-down and rebuild were basically needed. “It was a complete top-to-bottom renovation,” she said. “There were no water lines, no bathroom, and the electrical work was severely outdated. The walls were fire hazards and had to be gutted and redone. We installed the ceiling tile. It was a complete renovation.” Without naming names, Kobasko also expressed her frustration at the initial contractor she hired, which also didn’t help her timeline in getting the building ready. And for someone footing the bill herself, it was frustrating. “I didn’t get the best of luck with contractors,” she admitted. “A lot of this money came from savings, my personal savings. I’ve done a lot of this with no loans, just working and paying out of pocket and struggling to get to this moment.” That moment should be coming soon. Kobasko is nearing the finish line and is only awaiting her final inspection to finally open up and welcome the public. That moment should be coming within the next few months. Be sure to check out The Belgian Waffle Shop’s Facebook page, linked above, for further updates on both the menu and opening day. Owner Tara Kobasko talks during the September 2022 Show of Hands event in Wheeling. Read the full article

[yatgb]

tagged by da bestie @theghostofashton thank u muah muah <3

rules: post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to ao3. if you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics.

Are yall ready 4 a lot of splatoon LMFAO

How Did We Get Here? (Splatoon)

Neither Three nor Eight knew how it happened, but it happened to both of them at the same time.

That little critical moment of staring into each other's eyes, seeing a confession but hearing nothing but ink rushing in their ears. The heavy heartbeats, the stammered words… a confession.

And then Three was standing outside Callie and Marie's shared apartment before they could even register what they had just done.

The Epic Highs And Lows Of Fighting For Your Life (Splatoon)

Neo had an okay life. It was a far stretch from perfect, and he'd never call it comfortable, but it was better than what some people had.

Life in Splats Valley was never comfortable, but you could have a tent, a campfire, a Stringer, and enough scrap to turn in so you could eat for the night. If you were really lucky, you'd have a friend or two to scavenge with.

Neo was alone, but he was fine with that. His tent only suited one anyway, and the five logs around his campfire were for retaining heat more than anything. His Stringer served him better than anyone else he bumped into. At least his Stringer didn't tell him to go back to the canyon he crawled out of, or hike up the meal prices whenever he was–

"Next in line!"

Is It A Double Date If It's At Your House? (Splatoon)

It was nearing 6 PM by now, and the smell of popcorn wafted through the apartment. Three had been busying themself with setting up bowls of snacks while Eight got the living room tidy. Afternoon sun shone on the buildings outside their windows, sending calm orange into the living room. The overhead light was turned off in favor of the large bendy lamp that sat next to the TV, and the only other light source came from the white LEDs by the bar, to light up the kitchen. Eight had finished vacuuming, and was now just chatting away with Pearl on her laptop to pass the time while— "This way!" A popcorn kernel clocked Eight in the back of the head. "Ow!" Eight jerked in her seat, whirling around to see Three with a cheeky smirk, leaned over the counter in the kitchen. "Three! What was that for?"

Three laughed and waved their arm to say come here! I've been trying to get your attention!

Thank You For Shopping At MakoMart (Splatoon)

Hello! Welcome to MakoMart!" An Inkling by the door greeted. "Hi!" Eight cheered back with a grin. Three just hummed and nodded as they pushed on with their cart. Even with an eyepatch and facemask covering most of their face, Eight could see the exhaustion in their remaining eye. She knew the time limit of thirty minutes was just so Three didn't lose their mind in the bright noisy supermarket.

warm like the riverside (Splatoon)

"Ouch..." Eight paused her fingers over the muddied skin on Three's neck. "I know it's hurting," she mumbled, "but it shouldn't get… infected." That was the word, right? Right. Three's affected eye squinted at her, their mouth quirked in thought. Then, they just snuffed out another, "Ouch." Eight knew that meant it still hurts, and I'm still going to complain. They didn't seem to like the bright overhead light, either, but it was just so Eight could see what she was doing.

arms tonite (Splatoon)

Plummeting. Falling. Spinning around in the air with nothing to catch her. In her arms, clutched to her chest with all the force she can muster, is a limp body with no hope of waking up. Through the tears, she watches their deaths come closer and closer. A churning lethal mix of red ocean water and black ink (or is it black water and red ink? It's hard to tell). There is no land in sight. She knows she's going to die. She knows there is no hope. She knows the girl in her arms will never wake up again, and the very thought of that last notion is what draws her final noise out of her throat; a broken sob, as she hugs the girl's head tighter to her chest.

Nightwalks (Canterwood Crest)

"I hope you know I hate everything about this.” Heather regarded Sasha with a cocked eyebrow she could hardly see. "Then why'd you come along?" Heather's arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her scowl as dark as the new moon above her and Sasha as they trekked through one of the school's many riding trails. A warm Autumnal breeze swept through the rustling trees, and the 63 degree weather tonight only called for a light jacket, but the temperature was the least of both of their concerns. Sasha scoffed, crossing her own arms. "Well, it's not like I could ignore you dragging me out of my dorm by the wrist."

white noise (CrownARG)

Stop moving, dammit. He stared at his trembling fingers laying flat on the countertop. Stop. Moving. No matter how many times he willed them to stop, his fingers shook. It was a tremor he'd noticed ever since he caught a moment to breathe, and one he couldn't stop noticing. Even when he clenched his hands into fists, even when he'd flap his arms and shake his wrists until they were sore, even when he had a million other things to focus on.

lips speak louder (better back together) (EmpiresSMP)

Something woke Katherine up, a touch. A gentle stroking of her cheek, the feeling of her head against something soft– definitely not the brittle Netherrack she collapsed upon. She woke up, but didn't open her eyes. She couldn''t find the strength to, between her parched throat and aching muscles. And then, at her lips, a cool running sensation dribbling down her chin and neck. Water? She dumbly thought. But I'm in the Nether. There's no water here. Am I—? She sucked in a breath too quickly, and paid the price with a coughing fit as water flew from her mouth. She shot up with a jolt, coughing and holding her throat as she worked herself into a sitting position.

drag me (outta my room) (EmpiresSMP)

Warm mornings were the most common for Joel. He doesn't mind being warm– in fact, he wouldn't rather be anything else. Sure, they'd have to kick off the blankets for it to be bearable, and wear only the thinnest of T-shirts and gym shorts, but in Joel's eyes those are the best pajamas.

Im bad at tagging ppl so ujjjhhhhh whoever wants 2 do this <3<3

[randomitemdrop]

If you're still bored, how about d100 rumors?

Table of Rumors

So, what are the villagers whispering around the pub? (Adapt as needed to your setting, and remember that rumors aren’t always true)

An infamous item-shop owner is actually a fraud and has no idea what he’s doing

One of the party members is secretly in service to the Dark Lord

One of the party members is secretly in service to the Merchants’ Guild, ensuring that the party keeps having to buy more stuff

The Dark Lord is secretly in service to the Merchants’ Guild and their entire evil plan is a hoax to stimulate the economy

Mimics in service to the Dark Lord have infiltrated the village

The Dark Lord’s secret weakness is Essence of (consult Table of Flavors & Scents)

The Dark Lord’s secret weakness is getting stabbed with a cheap tin dagger

The Dark Lord’s secret weakness is catgirls

The local forest has been infested with Cascadian Tree-Krakens

The local counting-house has been infested with Modrons

The local fishing-hole has been infested with Dire Crawdads

The local lake is secretly home to a Fey woman that gives out swords proclaiming the wielder to be the true king of the land

The local spring is actually a portal to the Plane of Water, but only when activated correctly

A nearby swamp is home to a wish-granting hag

A nearby swamp is home to a reclusive retired bard, once famous across the land

A nearby swamp is home to Shrek

A nearby swamp is actually a bog

Deep in the forest there grows a patch of herbs that will cure any illness or wound

Deep in the forest there grows a patch of herbs that make anything taste good

Deep in the forest there grows a patch of herbs that double your strength for four hours

Deep in the forest there grows a patch of herbs that will kill anything mortal

Deep in the forest there grows a patch of herbs that will get you zonked off your gourd

At the top of a nearby mountain there is a shrine to a forgotten deity from beyond the stars

At the top of a nearby mountain there is a shrine to a long-dead celebrity musician where Bards can learn special spells

A nearby cave is haunted by the ghosts of a massacred army

A nearby cave is haunted by the ghosts of cavemen

Long ago, fleeing royals hid a magic sword up the chimney of one of the local homes

One of the local merchants/tradespeople is actually a psychic vampire that nourishes itself by providing the worst possible customer service

A local farm has a chicken that will grant wishes if you pet it without letting the owner know

The local pub owner was once a bandit and buried treasure under the floorboards

The town drunk knows where a treasure is hidden but will only explain when sober

The town Prohibition Society president knows where a treasure is hidden but will only explain when drunk

The weird old man that lives outside town dresses up as a monster to frighten people off his property

The weird old man that lives outside town dresses up as a monster and has won awards at furry conventions for his monster suits

The local blacksmith’s hammer is enchanted so that he can strengthen armor just by hitting it

The local butcher will buy exotic meats, no questions asked

The local baker’s buns are enchanted so that it is addictive

The local candlestick-maker uses dwarf-tallow

The local cooper is the Queen’s paramour, which is how he's kept his license despite his barrels being absolute rubbish

The local cobbler is assisted by Elves. Nobody seems to know if that means traditional tiny magical spirits or, like, a band of Drow warriors bound to his service

The local nightsoilman is the true Crown Prince, having switched places with a lookalike after getting the idea from an episode of “Wishbone” and/or “Garfield: a Tail of Two Kitties” and/or any of the three different Barbie CGI adventures based around the idea

The local grave-digger kills people when business is slow

The local pie-maker kills people when business is slow

The local oyster-seller is secretly rich off pearls

The local arkwright (maker of chests) is actually a breeder of Mimics

The local carpetmaker is actually a breeder of Trappers

The local schrimpshonger will pay dearly for strange and exotic teeth, the bigger the better

The local relic-keeper is a fake

The local phrenologist is legit, somehow

The local cheesemonger can tell your fortune from the bite patterns you leave in a rind

The local pardoner has a direct line to the Celestial Bureaucracy

The local doctor is a vampire

The local tobacconist has some primo shit in the back that he only brings out if he knows you’re cool

The local town guard used to be an adventurer like you, then he took an arrow in the knee

The local town’s rival tater-hurling team has magic on their side, so the locals are looking for an edge

The local mayor is secretly a witch

The local mayor is secretly an avatar of the Dark Lord

The local mayor is secretly two Halflings with one sitting on the other’s shoulders, having achieved office through a cavalcade of hilarious hijinks and desperate to maintain the ruse

The Royal Palace’s knights are actually just empty suits of armor animated by dark magic

The Royal Palace’s knights are actually just empty suits of armor filled with bees

The Royal Palace’s knights are actually illusions and the building is actually defenseless

Eating raw pork increases your strength, the tainteder the better

Man door hook hand carriage door

Putting out all the lights and speaking a wizard’s name into a mirror five times will open a portal to wherever they are

Living near windmills causes cancer

Electrical shocks cure rheumatism

Goblin saliva cures acne

The smell of Bonnacon dung cures respiratory illness

Giant blood replenishes vitality and cures hangovers

Powdered Tiefling horns are an aphrodisiac

Dwarves lay golden eggs when enraged

Pulling Elves’ ears is good luck

Stealing an adventurer’s helmet is good luck

It’s good luck to ignore Aasimar, pretending they aren’t there

People with even a little bit of Dragon blood in their veins are incapable of lying

Feeding a Halfling is bad luck

Druids are aggressive assholes that try to convince everyone else to become Druids

Orcs are disguised humans

Mind-flayers can actually survive on totally normal food and drink, and they’re just flaying minds to be jerks

People with red hair are werewolves

Kicking a Cleric of a deity besides the one you follow in the butt cures curses

Flossing with the hair from a wizard’s beard cures toothache and gum disease

Church wine can be used to remove any stain

The Chosen One has arisen and can be recognized by (insert trait held by party member)

The Chosen One has arisen and can be recognized by being invulnerable to blades

The Chosen One has arisen and a cutting from their hair is proof against the Plague

Many adventurers are actually thought-constructs without free will, controlled by the whims of giant deities living on a higher plane rolling dice

The Royal Palace is trying to hide from the populace that the world is actually round/flat/cylindrical/toroidal/&c.

The Plague vaccines being provided by the Royal Palace secretly contain Potion of Enfeeble Mind to allow them to control the populace more securely

The local ruins were constructed by Extraplanars (note: if this is already true in your setting, instead the rumor is that the Extraplanars are a hoax by the Royal Palace)

Certain unusual clouds are the product of the Alchemists’ Guild trying to control the weather

The gladiator matches are fixed

A famous bard died years ago and was replaced by a look-alike

A famous bard is hypnotizing people with their music

Zalgo is coming

The world is going to end next year

A major chain of food stalls actually uses bio-alchemically-engineered Oozes instead of real meat

The Holy Books have hidden messages that can be decoded by those that know the secret method

The town charter is secretly a treasure map

https://www.snopes.com/random/

[yb-cringe]

Out of curiosity, what kind of stuff would you wanna see from a villain soup group? Like, any ideas?’

ohohohhh good question

villain soup group potential is. well its Immense while simultaneously very limited. you cant exactly have dsmp style wars in hermitcraft— “but wait what about the mycelium/civil war from seasons 7 and 6?” those are Different because it split the entire server into two main groups essentially. There was no clear right or wrong it was just. idk who you watched more.

if we had a Villainous group of Only Three People it would be so hard to do. but i think it could work.

- I wouldnt want them to go DARK exactly, more along the lines of cartoon villains a la maybe wander over yonder or maybe steven universe. do campy villain stuff! make riddles/traps. mess with the king. set loose ravagers in the shopping district.

- motivation! i think impulse already HAS good motivation in a way where he’s just sort of snapping. how would that carry to pearl n gem in a way that accentuates their part in this without making it all abt impulse? i want it to be a common resolution they all come to rather than ‘well hes doing it. might as well go down with this ship’***

- go nuts. with character, concept, creativity- i want them to do whatever they want and have fun with it. i want to see them cause CONTROVERSY over how much fun it is. new skins, maybe a new build to accentuate the arc if they’d like, i wanna see them mess with grumbot or the king and cause an unlikely alliance between the king and the rebels to take on a shared enemy

- if they lose i want them to blow shit up with them. and if we’re being self indulgent, i want a reference to double life as they do it

*** under cut cause it got long lol

*not that i think devotional loyalty that leads to losing your morals is BAD- thats what makes a lot of stories good and appealing and dramatic- i just think theres already a lot of. well woobification when it comes to female mcyts (or making them into responsible parental figures or ‘girlbosses’ with no other characterization beyond ‘look! woman do cool thing! arent i so inclusive?’) and i think the best deviation from that is doing what happened to pearl during double life.

basically; Wet Cat-ification. somehow thats ended up making such a good three dimensional perspective on a character? still keeping her as competent and strong but mind addled and flawed, strong at times weak at others. dont get me wrong theres probably times when it becomes too much but i like it a lot more than the alternatives and its felt very much more inclusive lol.

I want villains to have reason, even if its stupid, and i want my villains to be villains because THEY choose to, not because its the easiest way to explain it (and i dont think we can do a fast loyalty arc in Hermitcraft)

[e-milieeee]

hey cutea

Summary: In which Marinette brings Adrien to a bubble tea shop only to witness him order the most unappetizing flavour on the menu.

All’s well until Chat Noir does the exact same, and Ladybug makes an unsuspecting connection.

Tikki is also very unamused. If only they’d stop dancing around each other.

Notes: a month of procrastinating, the boba reveal,,, is finally here for day 1: cafe of @auyeahaugust! also for @buggachat because kelly started this with a drawing of an adrienette boba date and i spiralled :’) 

Word Count: 6.2k

AO3

The shop is called Thirstea, a pun which makes Adrien laugh for a whole thirty seconds as he stares at the storefront.

“Seriously,” Marinette is saying as he pushes the door open for her. “You’ve seriously never had boba? At all?”

Adrien shifts his backpack. He’s hit with the smell of something sweet—foreign, as well, but it’s pleasant enough—and the sight of a bustling interior. A small line has already formed, so Marinette tugs him aside and points at the large menu displayed on a colorful board behind the cashier.

“You can decide on which flavour you want,” she tells him.

Adrien peers up at the board. There’s so many to choose from—hundreds, even—from milk tea to fruit tea to mixed flavours and smoothies and…

His head is spinning when he turns back to Marinette. “Do you have any recommendations?” Because I have absolutely no clue. “What do you usually get?”

She tilts her head. “I have five go-tos. Roasted milk tea is a classic, but the honeydew milk tea is pretty good as well if I want something fruity. If I want something lighter, I’ll get a fruit tea—I like lychee black tea. Uh… there’s also the real fruit bobas, and I usually get taro. Oh! And the matcha latte is one of their best. And I usually get it with tapioca, but if you want to be healthier, grass jelly or aloe vera both taste pretty good. But I mean, it is your first time here and you should probably try getting tapioca just to see if you like it. And brown sugar milk tea, but they said they ran out today…”

The words go in one ear and out another, because Adrien is too busy staring at the way she talks: enthusiasm shining in her eyes, the way she waves her hands in the smallest, cutest gestures to make her point, and…

“Adrien?” Marinette tilts her head. “Um, have you decided? Or do you need more time? Because that’s completely alright too.”

In a panic, he nods and blurts, “I’ve decided!”

She nods sagely, and they enter the line. Adrien has not yet in fact decided.

He continues to stare at the menu from the corner of his eyes, going through all the categories until he settles on real fruit smoothie. Adrien goes through the list: watermelon, strawberry, mango, peach, blueberry, raspberry, winter melon—

“What would you like to order?”

Adrien snaps back into reality. He is not ready to order.

Oblivious to his conundrum, Marinette smiles at the cashier and fetches her wallet out of her backup. “I’m paying for us both!” she tells the girl cheerily. “I’ll have a peach green tea with half ice and thirty percent sugar. With tapioca.”

Adrien gawks at her order. She’d lost him after peach green tea—is he supposed to order like that too?

“Adrien?” Marinette prompts, now waiting for the order that he does not have.

He squints at the menu again, hoping his panic isn’t visible on his face. He scans them. Watermelon. Strawberry. Mango. Peach. Blueberry. Raspberry. Winter melon. Durian.

Durian.

“Durian,” he settles.

Marinette’s mouth quite literally drops open.

He’s not too certain what’s that surprising about his order—is it the wrong thing to order? Perhaps it doesn’t exist on the menu and he’d hallucinated it. A double-check later and the word is still clearly imprinted underneath winter melon. “Marinette?” Adrien asks carefully. “Um, I’m not too sure about the sugar and ice—which do you usually choose?”

She finally snaps her mouth shut.  “Durian?” Marinette echoes at last, ignoring his question.“Ah, are you certain about that?”

Adrien nods. “I can still add the pearls—the tapioca in, right?”

“Yeah,” she agrees absentmindedly, “but—durian?”

Adrien takes another peek at the menu. “The real fruit smoothie, right?”

“Have you… tried durian?” “When I was younger, once. Have you?”

Marinette swallows, and Adrien waits for her verdict, concerned. He’s honestly baffled why she’s so confused about his choice, but a moment later, Marinette squares her shoulders and gives the cashier a smile, this time slightly shaky. “And a durian smoothie with tapioca for him. Um, sugar and ice levels?”

Adrien has no clue what to ask for, so he tries, “The standard one for both...?”

Apparently that’s an acceptable answer because the cashier nods and jots down his order on a small notepad. Marinette pays, and they wait at the side for their order.

Marinette has gone quiet. She sorts through her bag for a little while, and Adrien waits in apprehensive silence. There’s quiet jazz music playing in the background and it makes him feel like he’s in an elevator. It’s becoming unbearably awkward.

Finally, Marinette lifts her eyes to look at him. “Sorry about that,” she apologizes. “I just… didn’t know you liked durian.”

“Oh.” He sounds equally awkward. “I liked the fruit the last time I had it which was about two years ago. Do you not like it?”

Her nose wrinkles. It’s cute. Wait, what?

“My mom really likes durian,” Marinette is explaining, and she motions with her hands again. “Apparently her hometown back in China had a dessert store that sold durian pastries and she had this brilliant idea of making them for Chinese New Year a couple months ago and the whole bakery reeked of durian and I could smell it all the way up into my room—” She clamps a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. I forgot you liked it.”

“No, I’m the one who should be sorry,” he replies, flustered. Marinette has a habit of saying a lot in very little time and it doesn’t help that he gets easily distracted by her movements. “I didn’t realize durian was so… controversial. I hope it won’t make you uncomfortable or something with the smell.”

“I guess it’s not that popular here,” she replies with a shrug. “But my mom did say that people either hate or love durian. And the smell’s fine. I don’t like it, but once you spend a week with it stinking up your room, you kind of develop immunity.”

Just then, the waitress behind the counter sets down their two drinks. “For Marinette?” she calls.

Marinette takes the bag with a quick thank you, grabs two straws, and then returns to Adrien. She holds up their drinks.

Adrien takes the cup from her extended hand. The durian smoothie is a creamy white, and the black tapioca bubbles sit at the very bottom. He follows her movements as she shakes her cup then stabs a straw into it.

He can see Marinette eying him in his periphery as he raises the straw to his lips and takes a sip. The drink is cold and sweet and has a rich taste that explodes on his tongue in a plethora of flavours, and Adrien decides he likes it. He really likes it.

“So?” Marinette asks. Adrien wonders if she knows how skeptical her expression is. “Do you… like it?”

He chews on one of the pieces of tapioca. “Yes. Yeah, this is really great.”

The skepticism doesn’t disappear from her face, but she raises her boba to his. “Cheers,” Marinette says weakly.

***

On a good day, a cup of boba has two hundred fifty calories when the tapioca is replaced by grass jelly and the sugar level is brought to less than half. On a bad day, if her sweet tooth demands regular sweetness and tapioca, it can be driven up to seven hundred calories.

It’s why Marinette has begrudgingly limited herself—for the sake of her wallet and health—to only drink boba once a week.

And it’s why she and Chat Noir, decked in hoodies and track pants in an attempt to look normal, are lined up underneath the blazing sun at Thirstea.

Their disguises don’t do much, because a crowd has formed around them. First there are whispers of is that Ladybug and Chat Noir, then a girl summons up her courage to ask for a selfie, and finally, the press starts driving in. By the time that happens, they have luckily made it inside the shop, where the air-conditioning blasts out on the highest setting.

Another snap of the camera. Chat Noir is staring pensively at the menu when a thought hits Ladybug. “Have you ever had boba before?” she asks him.

He nods absentmindedly, still looking. Everyone in line is whispering or peering at them, and Ladybug sees a phone held up in the back, most likely recording.

They make it to the counter when Nadja Chamack and her team, armed with cameras and microphones, invades the shop. The girl at the register looks slightly overwhelmed and a little alarmed, but she doesn’t tell the press to leave.

“Ladybug!” Nadja calls. “You’ve been photographed once or twice coming to this shop in the past month—is this your favourite bubble tea shop?”

“Yup!” she replies.

“What’s your go-to order?”

“Depends on the day.” Ladybug turns back to the cashier, leaving Chat to deal with the press. He has the uncanny ability to drag on a brief topic for an unsolicitedly long amount of time. “I’ll have an original milk tea with tapioca,” she tells the cashier. “Regular ice and seventy percent sugar.”

The girl looks a little starstruck, but she jots down the order. With a tug on Chat’s tail, he turns around from entertaining the press to place his own order.

“One durian smoothie, please!” he chirps, chipper as always.

Ladybug chokes on air.

The girl taking their order also seems taken aback, but her recovery time is much quicker than Ladybug’s. Instead, offering him a quick, slightly strained smile, she jots his order down. “Is that all, then?”

Chat takes the chance to pay for both of their orders while she’s caught in her confusion. By the time Ladybug snaps back to her senses, it’s too late—Chat is already pulling aside to wait for their bobas to finish. Nadja and her crew take the chance to start their questions again.

“Chat Noir,” Nadja addresses when it’s clear Ladybug’s still out of commission. “If I heard you right, you chose a durian smoothie?”

He gives a nod so proud that Ladybug swears she dies a little inside.

“Could you tell us why? From what I know, durian is a well-debated fruit. Many people love it, but many also cannot stand the smell.”

Chat ponders the question thoughtfully. “The smell is rather funny,” he finally replies. “But I like the flavour! It has a very rich texture as well, and tastes pretty different from the smell, so it doesn’t actually taste bad.”

“Ladybug?” Nadja gestures for the cameras to face her. “What are your thoughts on durian?”

She’s too busy thinking about Adrien Agreste raising his cup of boba to bump against hers—a durian smoothie—and his casual enthusiasm for the fruit that Nadja’s words don’t even click in her brain. Who would’ve expected Chat Noir to have the same (terrible) taste as her crush? The coincidence leaves her feeling disjointed.

“Uh… Ladybug?” Chat waves his hand in front of her. “Are you okay?”

She finally snaps out of her reverie long enough to scramble for a response. Ladybug manages a sheepish smile in Nadja’s direction. “I’m doing fine, thank you.”

Chat frowns. “Ladybug, that wasn’t her question—”

Before either of them can say anything more, the girl making the drinks pops her head out from the counter. “Your drinks!” she says, then beams at both of them. “Here’s a buy-one-get-one free coupon! Please come by often!”

Chat’s eyes glimmer when he accepts his durian smoothie. Ladybug takes her own with much less enthusiasm. Focus is hard enough with the snap of Nadja’s cameras and the chaos all around them—the fact that an even larger crowd has gathered outside Thirstea in order to catch a glimpse of their favourite superheroes makes it worse. It’s all too much to take in, and Ladybug’s brain is still stuck on Adrien Agreste and Chat Noir and durian smoothies.

“We’re going to take off,” Chat tells Nadja, then waves at the camera. “See you guys around! Come on, LB.”

She allows him to drag her out of the store, then with a flick of his baton and a snap of her yo-yo they’re swinging off, bobas in hand and the rest of Paris watching them go.

But Ladybug isn’t thinking about them at all.

When they finally settle down somewhere secluded, Chat immediately stabs his straw through the top of his drink and takes an obnoxiously loud slurp. Ladybug can smell the scent of durian from where she’s sitting, and instinctively, she wrinkles her nose and shifts away. She pokes her straw into her own drink, still staring off at the distance.

A coincidence, yeah. Her crush and her partner both have awful taste in bubble tea flavours. It’s nothing but a coincidence.

“Are you going to drink yours?” Chat is asking, still slurping obliviously. “I wanna try your flavour.”

He makes a grab for her drink, and Ladybug ducks away. “Your breath smells like durian. You can’t drink from my straw.”

“Hey! Let me try!”

For a little while Chat wrestles for her drink, nearly spilling his own in the process. In the end he snatches out from her fingers, laughing raucously. Ladybug is giggling as well, forgetting about her predicament for the moment. This is what she’s used to; their routine of banter and playfulness that’s easy—it’s straightforward. Not confusing.

That snaps her right back to the problem. Chat sips her drink, smacking his lips in a purposefully annoying way, and makes his verdict. “Not bad. I like mine better. Wanna try?”

Ladybug shakes her head and reclaims her drink. As casually as possible, she asks, “Do you get boba often?”

“Mm, no. This is actually the second time I’ve gotten the drink.” He swirls his straw around. “Honestly, with all the percentages you give for the sugar and the ice, I’m not too sure what to say. My friend took me to get boba a little while ago, so…durian is actually the only flavour I’ve ever tried.”

A casual dump of information, information that really wouldn’t have meant anything. It’s vague enough that any other person wouldn’t have made any sort of connection; it’s the information they often share between each other.

Except for the fact that she—Ladybug, Marinette—might be the friend in question. And Chat Noir—Chat Noir is…

She stares across the building, where an ad of Adrien, the Fragrance is displayed.

No way.

“Um,” Ladybug stammers. “Your friend took you out for boba because you’ve never had it before?”

He’s painfully oblivious to her panic. “Yeah, about a week ago. You know, it’s pretty funny because she had a similar reaction to you when I ordered the durian smoothie. Apparently she hates the smell too.”

“Your friend?” Ladybug echoes.

“Yeah, my friend. Are you okay, m’lady?”

Can’t really breathe properly, so I’m not really okay, but youcan’tknowandIdon’treallyknowwhat’sgoingonrightnow—

“I, um, just realized I have something to do,” Ladybug stammers out, because it’s the only thing she can think of saying. She flails, but somehow manages to get to her feet. “Uh—uh, do you want my milk tea? I can’t swing around very well if I’m holding it because it might get on my suit and my hair—oh my God, my hair! I got ice cream once and tried to eat it while going around Paris on my yo-yo and it went so badly and honestly I feel like the bubble tea will do the same so you can drink mine too since I can just get another one by myself soon but I really gotta run—”

She all but shoves the cup into his confused hands. It’s a whole miracle Chat doesn’t drop it then and there, just like it’s a miracle Ladybug hasn’t screamed or slipped up or promptly tripped over air and simply… lay there crying.

“Ladybug–” she hears him call, but it’s interrupted by the zing of her yo-yo.

She takes off as fast as possible.

Marinette has never been so hasty in detransforming, but as she slips through the rooftop back into her room, she’s already calling Tikki out before she touches down onto her bed. She slams onto pillows and the soft mattress in her regular clothing, buries her face into the nearest cushion, and screams.

She really doesn’t deserve Tikki’s patience, but her kwami stays beside her and pats her with tiny paws until Marinette’s throat is hoarse and she has more or less yelled the remaining cinders of her panic and confusion into her pillow.

When Marinette finally raises her head to look at Tikki, her kwami has her hands on her hips. “Well?” she asks. “I didn’t want to interrupt your breakdown, but now that you’re through, can you tell me what it’s about?”

Marinette thinks about the cup of boba and the boy she’d left back on the roof. Then the one that sits in front of her in class, with the same shade of blonde hair and emerald eyes, both ordering durian boba.

“I think Chat Noir is Adrien Agreste,” she tells Tikki weakly.

Tikki has a scarily-good poker face. “Have you now,” she replies with calmness Marinette is incapable of. “And why do you think so?”

“Because—because—because they both like durian!” It comes out as a distressed wail.

Tikki ponders the question. Then replies, “I see.”

It’s such an awfully vague response that Marinette is tempted to bury her face into her pillow to scream some more. But she doesn’t, instead pulling out her notebook from the stand and a pencil. “I’m going to draw a venn diagram,” she announces with newfound determination. “I might just be jumping to a conclusion too quickly. And—and there was that one time when Chat was there but Adrien was too, right? When Gorizilla attacked?”

“Right,” Tikki agrees. “But you also did a similar trick with Multimouse and the fox Miraculous, so…”

“Chat didn’t have the fox or mouse Miraculous. Anyway… they both have blonde hair and green eyes.”

She puts that in the similar column. She thinks about it for a couple seconds more, and writes “composed” in Adrien’s column and “a mess” in Chat’s.

“Oh, come on.” Tikki flits closer. “You know very well Adrien isn’t as composed as you make him out to be. The only reason you don’t recognize it is because you’re even worse around him.”

Marinette stubbornly keeps those two where they are, even if she knows deep down that Tikki is right. For a while, she goes on making her list, with Tikki criticizing almost every decision she makes. Adrien Agreste has neat hair, a polite smile, the best grades in class and manners that would woo anyone’s parents. Chat Noir’s hair is messy and untamed, his smile is almost always accompanied with a raucous laugh and shutting up isn’t in his vocabulary. He steals food and drinks and everything he can from her whenever she brings it.

She scribbles and erases and thinks and stresses, getting a week’s worth of confusion down and then some.

“Marinette,” Tikki finally advises when Marinette has run out of ink. “Why don’t you just ask Adrien tomorrow at school subtly about it? If he didn’t mind telling Ladybug he went out for boba with Marinette, he probably wouldn't have qualms telling Marinette about getting boba with Ladybug. It’s not as if your identities need to remain a secret anymore.”

Ask Adrien.

Ask Adrien.

Sure, they’re on good terms now. They’re friends. Marinette’s crush has faded into a more manageable level, and she can talk to him without her voice rising an octave higher than its usual key. She hasn’t tripped and fallen on her face in front of him for at least two weeks.

But this—with the possibility that Adrien Agreste is Chat Noir? To think she’d waxed poetic about Chat Noir to Tikki every night for months? It’s unspeakably insane to think about, and she doesn’t have the courage and probably never will but Marinette thinks she’s genuinely going to die if she doesn’t get closure—

“Okay,” she agrees at last, because it’s the only logical answer.

***

Adrien is the one who comes to find Marinette before she can go find him.

“Hey!” he calls from behind her.

In a quite frankly astonishing display of improvement, Marinette doesn’t scream or fall on her face, even if she does freeze for a good couple seconds too long.

“Uh… Marinette?” Adrien taps her shoulder. “I wanted to return the physics notes to you. You gave me your notebook from last time because I missed the class. Here.”

She takes the notes from him, movements stiff. A million words to say come piling from her throat, but they stick to the top of her mouth drily and none make it past her lips.

Adrien Agreste. Chat Noir. They’re the same person? How can they be the same person? Is it just a huge coincidence? Who is Chat Noir? Who am I, even?

Before she can work herself into more of a panic, Marinette gives him a forced smile, hugging her notebook to her chest. “Thanks!” she shrieks. “I gotta—I gotta run. See you around!”

She trips over air on her way out, face beetroot.

***

“Listen,” Tikki whispers to her, munching on her cookie as Marinette locks herself in a stall of the girls’ washroom. “You gotta do it. Just… just don’t think that he’s Adrien Agreste. I heard imagining people as potatoes helps with stage fright?”

Marinette lets out a distressed noise. “Stage fright isn’t my problem, though!”

“Adrien fright? If you ask me, it’s pretty similar. Anyway, just ask him if he’s had bubble tea recently or something! You don’t know until you try. It won’t be that bad. What’s the worst case scenario?”

“That you-know-who turns out to be you-know-who!”

“We did not decide on these codenames.”

“Yeah, but what if someone hears—”

Tikki interrupts her by giving her a little pinch. “Calm down, Marinette! It’ll be fine. Besides, is it really that big of a problem if it’s true?”

No, it isn’t. Marinette has thought long and hard about it last night, lying awake on her bed, unable to sleep because of the heat and turbulent thoughts and theories all mixing together. Would it be a bad thing, if Chat turned out to be Adrien? No—she could think of a thousand more worse people for Chat to be, and if she were to be perfectly honest, no better person than Adrien. But at the same time, it’s overwhelming in the strangest way: the sort that sends her heartbeat spiking, thoughts scattering, stomach turning in a not-quite-unpleasant way.

Marinette really doesn’t know what to think about it, and that’s the scariest part.

“Okay.” Tikki interrupts her train of thought. “We should probably get going before you’re late for class. If you hurry, you can probably ask Adrien about it before the bell goes off.”

Marinette steels her back. “Okay,” she grinds out with wavering determination. “Okay, I’m gonna do it.”

Tikki lets out a squeak of Attagirl! before diving back into her purse. Marinette marches out of the stall, down the hallway, and into the classroom.

She really hates the way her throat still closes up when she scans the room and her eyes land on Adrien. All of a sudden, she’s reverted to herself months ago, when her crush on him had reached its peak; when she’d been a jumble of frayed nerves and blabbering and hand motions violent enough to whack any bystander that wandered too close.

No, Marinette tells herself firmly. No freaking out. No stuttering. I’m past that.

“Adrien,” she calls, and he turns away from his conversation with Nino.

“Hey!” his smile is a thousand watts too bright. “We were just talking about you. Nino said he’s never tried boba as well.”

The word boba nearly has her choking on spit. “Cool,” Marinette manages out. “That’s very… cool.”

Nino’s eyebrows furrow. “You okay?”

“Fine! Th-that’s great you want to introduce Nino to boba as well! I’m glad to hear you liked the drink.”

Marinette’s well aware that she sounds like a buffering tape-recorder right now. She marches to her desk, sits down just as stiffly, and pinches herself on the arm, out of Adrien and Nino’s sight. Alya has yet to arrive—it’s now or never, Marinette knows. The longer she waits, the more nervous she’ll make herself, and the harder it’ll be. So…

“Adrien!” she blurts out again, voice too loud. Even Rose and Juleka leave their conversation briefly to glance at her.

He’s good-natured as ever when he turns to her, and Marinette is struck with another wave of trepidation. It’s all too sudden. It’s all too much. She takes a deep breath, mind turning to absolute mush, and somehow stammers out, “Have you gotten boba since that one time?”

She really can’t blame him for looking so confused at her question, but to Adrien’s credit, he regains his composure rather quickly. The bewilderment on his face quickly shifts to mild curiosity.

“Yeah,” he replies. “I actually went yesterday with a friend. Thank you for introducing me! I’ll probably go more often now if I find the time.”

Marinette’s mouth is dry. Her hands are sweaty. Her head feels like it’s going to explode. Her heart has moved to her throat and she’s positive that it’s going to stop beating any moment now.

“Oh.” It’s the only noise Marinette feels mentally capable of forming. Sentences are hard. Speaking is impossible. “Um, yesterday?”

“Yeah, it was pretty hot yesterday. I went to Thirstea, actually!” He scratches the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s the only boba shop I know at the moment so it doesn’t really mean anything, but… my friend who I went with really liked it too, so I think I’ll stick to Thirstea for now. Until I try all the flavours I want.”

Amidst her own confusion, Marinette somehow manages to think, if you wanted to try all the flavours you wanted why did you get durian again yesterday? It’s second nature: if the boy in front of her is Chat Noir—a fact that, despite the inconclusive results given by her venn diagram, is becoming more and more clear—then Marinette can’t help but want to tease him back.

Except if Adrien Agreste is Chat Noir and Chat Noir is Adrien… God. She’s just going in circles and getting nowhere closer to the final destination.

It doesn’t even hit Marinette that she hasn’t responded to Adrien and that’s why he’s staring at her so apprehensively. The shrill ringing of the bell startles all the class back into their seats, Adrien included, who shoots her a small smile before turning back around.

The rest of the period finds Marinette unable to pay the slightest bit attention. Mme. Bustier’s words travel in one ear, out the other, all muted static compared to the main problem at hand.

And a problem it is. She looks at Adrien’s golden head in front of her, imagining the flicker of black ears. If she reached down and mussed his hair up, it would look like Chat’s. They’re the same height too, to think of it. All the differences she had listed on her venn diagram seem to melt away, until Marinette is faced with one terrible, wonderful, conclusion.

***

She doesn’t confront Adrien about anything after the first period ends, nor does she at lunch, nor after. It’s too overwhelming to think of, but it hardly seems fair to keep him in the dark. When she asks Tikki to confirm at lunch, the only thing her kwami does is shrug with an indecipherable expression on her face—Marinette takes it as a verification.

But it’s a different story after school. By then, Marinette has made up her mind.

Her first stop is Thirstea. It’s not as sweltering as it were the day before, even if she has to wipe the sweat from her forehead after waiting fifteen minutes outside. The store isn’t as bustling now that Ladybug and Chat Noir aren’t there, so Marinette takes advantage of the peace to calm her thoughts. They have patrol in thirty minutes; she has thirty minutes to gather her thoughts and figure out how she’s going to come through with this. But is thirty minutes really going to help? She’s had the whole day alone to her thoughts, and, like it or not, she’s barely gotten anywhere.

When she finally gets her order—a fruit tea for herself, a durian smoothie for Chat Noir—Adrien Agreste—there’s only twenty three minutes to go.

Marinette transforms into Ladybug, hidden in an alley, and goes to wait for her partner to show up on the rooftop they agreed to. Then, once she’s reached the rooftop, she calls off her transformation.

The boba is still cold in her bag, so she wraps her hand around them to fend off the blistering heat from the sun. It’s uncomfortable, waiting like this, but physical discomfort is still better than working up a storm in her own thoughts, which Marinette is trying to distance herself from. They come in waves of stress, anxiousness, uncertainty, and fear. But she has to do this.

Her mood must’ve been evident enough for Tikki to feel, even though her kwami has slipped inside her purse to give her thoughts some space. She pokes her head out.

“Marinette,” Tikki says, a hint of concern in her tone. “You don’t have to do this now if you’re not ready, you know. Chat Noir will understand.”

Marinette, having resorted to biting her nails—she must be really nervous, because that’s a habit she’d gotten rid of years ago—shakes her head. “I can’t keep pushing it back. It’s one thing not revealing each other’s identities, but now that I know… I can’t just… not tell him. It’s not possibly fair, not when he’s waited for so long.”

“...are you happy that it’s Adrien?” This question is more tentative, quieter.

Marinette props her chin in her hands and stares at the skyline. Is she happy that it’s Adrien?

“Yeah,” she replies. “Yeah, I am.”

***

Chat Noir vaults over onto the roof, and he’s six minutes early. Marinette sees him before he sees her; she watches him look around for a couple of seconds, slightly confused.

She takes a deep breath and steps out of the shade of the door. “Chat Noir!” she calls.

He jumps around. “M’lady, you—”

His voice trails off. “M-marinette? I—uh, hi! I wasn’t expecting to see you here. I was actually going to find Ladybug but I might’ve gotten the wrong building! What—what, uh, are you doing up here?”

After a day of planning out the words to say, it’s rather funny how she can’t even form a semblance of the sentences she’s thought up.

It’s also a miracle in and of itself that she doesn’t stutter, panic, or go absolutely speechless. Even if her script lays lost and forgotten in the back of her head, Marinette says in a surprisingly steady voice, “I was actually waiting for you.”

Chat Noir doesn’t move from where he’s standing, so she heads towards him. “Did… Ladybug tell you I was going to be here?”

“Uhmh,” is the noise that makes its way out of Marinette’s mouth. She clears her throat and tries again. “I brought you boba because it’s hot today,” she explains. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

She sees it behind his eyes; questions, confusion, but most importantly, the beginning notes of a realization.

“Wait.” He doesn’t budge from his spot, eying her cautiously. “What do you want to talk about?”

“About the fact that you’re probably Adrien Agreste?”

Even the air, laden with the heat of the day, seems to still between them. Marinette looks up at him, and his reaction is the only confirmation she needs that she is indeed right.

Chat Noir’s reaction is less loud than she had expected. It’s shock, probably, the stage that Marinette has been stuck in for the good part of the day, because he still remains frozen. Then, in a shaky uncertain voice, he asks, “Ladybug?”

Her next breath escapes her in the form of a huff, a half-choked laugh. “We’re idiots.”

His lips lift into a wavering smile. “What.”

And then Marinette is laughing, because it’s so stupid. All the pent-up emotions come tumbling out uncontrollably and she’s laughing and laughing, doubling over and clutching at her stomach and nearly dropping her bag of their boba drinks.

Through her own giggles, she hears Chat mumble, “Oh my God,” and the way he says it makes everything all the more hilarious.

When Marinette finally gathers herself enough to straighten, she’s wiping tears from her eyes. Chat Noir is watching her, although his expression has softened into something that looks suspiciously close to fondness.

“Is this why you asked me about boba this morning?” he questions. “If I’d gone to get it with a friend?”

Marinette gives her eyes one last wipe. “Yeah. I just—when you ordered durian boba yesterday and all that you said—it was too suspicious for me to ignore.”

“Oh.” He tugs his hands through his hair—messy golden hair, how hadn’t she noticed how similar Chat and Adrien always were?—and lets out another groan. “Oh. I’m dumb.”

“You could’ve been any other person if I hadn’t been, well, me,” Marinette points out. “Tikki told me it’s due time, anyway. But yes, you’re dumb. So am I.”

“My identity got exposed because I ordered a durian smoothie?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“Oh my God.”

She’s beginning to see why Tikki had found it endlessly amusing watching her panic. Instead of further antagonizing Chat, Marinette reaches into her bag to take out his durian smoothie. She stuffs it into his arms, and he’s too confused to do anything but accept the drink and the straw it comes with.

“Don’t worry,” she reassures him before she can stop herself. “I won’t tell anyone that number one model Adrien Agreste runs around Paris in a leather catsuit. My lips are sealed.”

The moment the words leave Marineette’s mouth, she feels her face heat up. It’s one thing to tease him before, now it feels like she’s treading on the edge of a cliff with a long, long drop. He’s still her partner, but there’s another aspect that they will figure out—with time, undoubtedly—and now is too soon to push it so much.

To her relief, Chat Noir’s face lights up, and a much wider smile slips across his face. “I’m still in shock, you know,” he tells her. If that’s his in-shock voice, then Marinette is thoroughly impressed. “But thank you. My father might have a bone to pick with this outfit if he ever found out.”

Relief is cool against the heat. “Your father won’t be the only one with the bone to pick with you,” she replies. “The bell is quite a… bold statement.”

He laughs once more. “I happen to like the bell the best, so I don’t know what your problem is.”

He has no business to smile so brightly like that, Marinette thinks to herself. In front of her is the boy she’s turned down countless times—the same one she would wax lyrical to Tikki every night before bed. God, what a coincidence. Or really, what a stroke of luck.

She’s jolted from her thoughts when Chat stabs his straw into his durian smoothie with a loud pop.

“Do you want to talk?” Marinette offers. “Somewhere shadier, that is? You probably have a lot of questions. I know I do.”

Chat nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that would work.”

She starts towards the small door on the rooftop, then stops when she realizes that Chat hasn’t been following her. Instead, his gaze is fixed thoughtfully on his drink, like he’s contemplating something important.

“Chat?” Marinette prompts. “Hey, are you okay?”

Then his face brightens. “I’m taro-bly sorry,” he says. “I just got distracted because you’re such a cu-tea.”

Marinette’s jaw drops open. It’s not that she’s particularly surprised by the pun, given his penchant for dropping them at the most terrible (taro-ble?) of moments, but she had half the mind to believe she’d permanently shocked the humour out of Chat Noir. Moreover, the fact that it’s Adrien Agreste saying these so casually is still new to her.

The grin he gives her is absolutely shit-eating, yet somehow, it works perfectly in her mind on Chat’s face as it does on Adrien’s. It also snaps her out of her reverie.

“Now my head is going to explode,” Marinette grumbles. “C’mon, cat-boy. We have a lot to discuss.”

He catches up with her with a quick jog, still slurping out of his boba. “I’m glad it’s you,” he tells her when they fall side-by-side. “In case you didn’t know.”

Marinette hides her grin behind her own drink, but she thinks Chat catches it nonetheless. “Me too,” she tells him. “Even if you have terrible taste in boba.”

“We wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have terrible taste,” he points out, and they both share a laugh. 

Notes: Here’s my fics masterlist! 

[scapegrace74-blog]

Ginger Snap, Epilogue

A/N  As promised, here is the epilogue to Ginger Snap.  It’s been two years since Jamie and Claire first got together as a couple.  Let’s see where they’ve gone on their journey.  The title of this installment is Keep the Home Fires Burning.

Previous chapters are best enjoyed on my AO3 page, because I have a bad habit of going back and editing them after they’ve been posted.

I scrutinized my reflection in the antique glass.  The local hairdresser had collected my curls atop my head in way that both tamed and embellished them, braiding in tendrils of lily of the valley to create an unmerited halo.

Jenny’s double joined me in the mirror, holding a strand of seed pearls.  She carefully lifted them over my head and fidgeted with the clasp.

“These belonged to our Mam, given tae her on her weddin’ day.  I ken she would want ye tae wear them.”

“Jenny,” I breathed, fighting back tears.  “I’d be honoured.”

With a curt nod that indicated her limit for sentimentalism had been reached, my soon-to-be sister-in-law returned to her usual businesslike manner.

“They’re all set outside.  Are ye ready, Claire?”

I took one last glance in the mirror and a sanguine woman looked back.  I’d never been more certain or ready for anything in my life.

“Absolutely.  Let’s do this.”

***

With the proceeds of the sale of Ginger Snap and by combining our life savings, Jenny, Ian, Jamie and I managed to purchase Lallybroch back from their uncle six months ago.  Since then, Jamie spent the workweek in the Highlands, investing sweat equity into the massive endeavour of converting the eighteenth century manor and its outbuildings into a hotel, spa and gourmet restaurant.  On the weekends he joined me in Edinburgh, physically exhausted but blissfully happy.

One such weekend, we had been walking hand-in-hand down Grassmarket when Jamie pulled me towards a nearby shop.  

“Are you thinking of getting a tattoo?” I asked when he didn’t immediately explain our unexpected halt.  He was looking intently through the window, but I got the impression he wasn’t really seeing the designs and various body jewelry on display.

“Aye,” he started out slowly.  “In fact, I was thinkin’ perhaps we both might.  As a symbol, if ye will, of who we are tae one ano’er.”

I’d never before considered getting a tattoo and was tempted to dismiss the idea out of hand, but something about Jamie’s seriousness tempered my response.

“That’s a mighty permanent symbol, Fraser.”  His cobalt eyes sparkled when he looked at me.

“Aye, tis.  What dae ye say, Arsonist?  Are ye ready tae belong tae each other, under our skin like blood and bone, until our lives be done?”

Which was how I became engaged to Jamie in the most unconventional way imaginable, standing in front of a display of Celtic knots and navel rings with tears in my eyes.

***

Downstairs, Lallybroch was a mess of step-ladders, idle carpentry tools and drop clothes.  I stepped around a bucket of half-solidified plaster on my path to the front door.

This hadn’t been the plan.  I was meant to finish my three year contract as a surgeon at the Royal Edinburgh, Jamie was going to oversee the restoration and opening of Lallybroch, and only then were we going to get married.  

Somewhere along the line, we got a bit ahead of ourselves.  I rested my hand against the tiniest hardening of my lower abdomen.  Roughly twelve weeks ahead of ourselves, and counting.

Ironically, it was Jamie who insisted we move up the wedding.  Apparently the few traditional scruples he maintained all converged around children born out of wedlock.

I stood on the steps of the Lallybroch courtyard under a lapis blue sky, staring down an improvised aisle of borrowed chairs and white muslin.  Common wisdom held that it was the bride who was the centrepiece of a wedding, but Jamie took my breath away.  He wore his Fraser tartan, brilliant white shirt and tweed vest, his hair a sea of burnt sugar waves.  His already lean physique now had the consistency of marble, brought about by long days of hard labour.  He stood tall and proud, a lighthouse calling me home to port.

No family accompanied me on my short march to his side.  No violins trilled a romantic tune.  To my left, an arched gateway was clad in ugly scaffolding.

But it was perfect.  Perfect, because I moved forward of my own volition.  Perfect, because the song love sang in my heart was endless.  And perfect, because the man I approached had reminded me to see past the surface of things, to the strength and beauty that lay within.

Jamie greeted me with a watery smile and an outstretched hand.  Where his cuff lifted, I could make out the text of his tattoo, written in my own hand.  He’d chosen his inner wrist, so that he could always see it as he worked.  The words were from his invocation, spoken in a Leith storeroom so many months ago.  

Come, set my life on fire.

I’d given my own tattoo a great deal of thought, that giddy day in Grassmarket.  As a doctor, I didn’t feel comfortable having it visible while I worked.  The text was still more important than the location, and I considered and discarded several options before settling on one that encapsulated the essence of our relationship.  Whispering the words in Jamie’s ear so that he could write them out in his slanted script, I could tell by his gratified look that he appreciated their meaning.

That tattoo was on display to our entire acquaintance as we recited the vows that were both mere formality and eternal promise. Just above the ivory back of my dress, between my scapulae, where wings would grow if I was able to fly.

Hold a space for me to be free.