#the sketch always looks cuter than the finished thing :/

[neontrickery]

Drawing and Reviewing a Random Pokémon #1: Popplio

Today I have impulsively decided to draw and review a randomly generated pokémon every ... whenever I feel like it :)

Popplio --- Rating: 8/10

Popplio's design is cute and simple, but not so simple that it's boring or bland. She isn't just a seal, but she isn't an overdesigned mess either. She's a silly little guy with a honk honk clown nose and that frilly neck thing. Love <3

When Sun and Moon were first revealed, I was smitten with Rowlet. Now, I have to be honest, Popplio has significantly grown on me over the years and become my favorite Alolan starter. The first stage Alolan starters are all really solid ngl. But Popplio is just so unapologetically happy and playful and I love that. She has good vibes, and you know that she's the kind of friend that would notice when you're feeling sad and try to cheer you up by balancing bubbles on her nose while juggling Pincurchin. If she was a person, she'd be 5'1" and bouncing around with trampoline shoes all the while flawlessly belting out a trombone solo. Basically she's Pinkie Pie coded

[janeykath318]

The Gardener Next Door

Darcy felt like she’d finally made it: finished her PhD and found a great job that allowed her to upgrade from her tiny apartment to her very own house in the suburbs. It needed a little work, but it had charm and personality and Darcy took several months making it her own. The neighborhood she lives in was mostly elderly people or young newlywed couples and the people were generally very friendly. Sweet Mrs. Messer brought her over baked goods regularly and shared the local gossip while Old Mrs. Richards brought her puppy over for regular visits. Before she’d lived there six months, she knew almost everyone on the block except for her next door neighbor on the left, who didn’t appear to be the sociable type.

Even Mrs. Messer hadn’t been able to find out much information, other than his name was something Grant and he liked to garden and preferred to be left alone.

“He must be one of those grumpy old hermit types,” Mrs. Messer sighed. “Never answered the door when I went to bring him a welcome to the neighborhood pie. I wonder what happened to the poor man to make him so wary of people.”

“I don’t know, but maybe you could try leaving some on his front porch with a friendly note. Once he’s discovered the glory of your chocolate chip cookies, he might just loosen up a little.” Darcy suggested.

This cheered up Mrs. Messer and she scurried off to start baking.

Mysterious Neighbor Dude clearly preferred a motorcycle as his form of transportation, but he always pulled right into the garage, so she was never able to get a glimpse of him without his helmet.

As spring went on, Darcy started spending more time outside in her cozy lounge chair, from which she started noticing her neighbor working outdoors. Even from the distance she could see by the way he moved, he was still in the prime of life and he appeared to be a workout fiend, judging by the size of his shoulders and arms.

He wore a big floppy straw hat that kept the sun off, which was probably a good thing because he was working in his garden almost nonstop on sunny days. It was kind of fascinating watching the progression from bare dirt to tiny plants. So far, their only interaction was a friendly wave when he caught her staring and Darcy was dying for more, but he’d never approached her and she didn’t want to invade his privacy.

But then she came home one day to find a big basket of lettuce and radishes on her front porch.

There was a note with them:

“Sharing some lettuce with you. It makes delicious salads. Have a nice day!”

The note was not signed and Darcy squinted at it for quite awhile like it would suddenly start talking and reveal its author, but alas, no such luck.

The lettuce did make excellent salads and she thought about her hunky neighbor with every bite.

Mrs. Messer came over very excitedly to report that the cookies had been taken and she too had been given a basket of lettuce.

“Looks like you were right, Darcy. The man just needed a little kindness. I wonder if he likes lemon bars…..”

As the weeks went by, the gifts of veggies continued, varying as different things came into season. Peppers, carrots, tomatoes, and green beans all arrived steadily and were either quickly eaten or given to Darcy’s vegetarian co-worker.

Darcy started replying to his notes on the fifth basket and soon they had a funny banter going back and forth, filled with vegetable puns.

“Lettuce be friends?” She wrote on the note left in the empty basket which had previously held plump red tomatoes and would be supplying her with BLTs for a long time.

“Yes, peas!” he’d replied on the next basket, which did contain the mentioned vegetable.

“Why are you so cute and unreachable?” Darcy murmured to herself, stashing the note away with a smile.

She laid out sunbathing in her favorite bathing suit the next day and since there was no fence between their backyards, the hot neighbor dude got a nice view. This time it was Darcy who caught him staring and waved happily, pretty sure he was blushing. Ugh. He was just too adorable. She wanted to March over there and plant one on him, pun slightly intended. He briefly took off his hat to wipe sweat off of his face and she caught a glimpse of dark hair and beard. Dang it, that was a GOOD look!!

The notes and vegetable puns continued, but now they were accompanied by cute sketches of cartoon vegetables representing the various neighbors. Darcy absolutely loved it and it proved her suspicions that the so-called hermit was much more observant than he seemed.

“So you’re an artist as well as a champion gardener? Is there anything you can’t do?” She wrote on the next note.

“Plenty,” he replied back. “I sure can’t bake and I can’t seem to be able to remember how to speak when my pretty neighbor is around.”

Darcy was floored, but thrilled, and wrote and rewrote seven replies before she finally figured out how to word her response.

“Here I was thinking you didn’t want to talk to me. Guess we’re both disasters at communicating.”

The response to this rang Darcy’s doorbell the very next evening and she opened it to see her neighbor, up close and personal, looking all kinds of shy and adorable and holding out a bouquet of gorgeous flowers that she knew came from his yard.

“Aww, how sweet!” She exclaimed, accepting the flowers eagerly. “They’re beautiful. Nice to finally meet you……….”

Her voice trailed off as she recognized the gorgeous and famous face in front of her.

“Steve,” he finished quietly, almost apologetically. “I’m sorry for the secrecy. I’ve been hiding out living the retired life and trying my hand at new hobbies.”

He looked even more nervous now, probably thinking she was going to either throw him out or go yelling to the neighbors.

“Please, come in,” she told him, heart pounding. “I’m Darcy Lewis, astrophysicist and former Avengers wrangler. I did NOT recognize you from across the yard with the dye job. It’s a good look, though. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

“Thanks,” Steve sighed, relaxing a touch. “I think I remember seeing you yelling at Tony a few times. It was pretty neat, the way you made him cower.”

“I learned early on, Tony needed a firm hand or he would never eat or sleep and bad things happened,” Darcy recalled, with a pang of sadness. “You guys saved the world,” she added. “I think you’ve more than earned your privacy and a peaceful retirement.”

Steve cracked a crooked smile. “That’s very gracious of you. Some days, it’s a pretty big struggle for me to believe that, thinking about everyone we lost. Gardening’s been keeping me sane.”

“And you’re doing a fabulous job with it. I’ve never had such perfect tomatoes,” Darcy told him with a smile.

“I was pretty proud of them,” Steve admitted, then he grew serious again and looked at her very earnestly with those gorgeous blue eyes.

“Darcy, do you still want to…”

“Yes,” Darcy interrupted. “Heck yes. I like you, Steve. I didn’t really know you apart from Captain America before and I’m finding regular Steve to be more irresistible than Mrs. Messer’s lemon bars.”

Steve chuckled and started to turn pink, which was even cuter seen close up.

“Given how amazing those are, that’s high praise,” he remarked, with a twinkle in his eye. “Looks like I’ve got a lot of missed opportunities to make up for.”

They shared another long look and Steve moved into her personal space with intent-to-kiss written all over his face.

Darcy was very much down for that and nodded eagerly, wrapping her arms around him. The pent up feelings resulted in a pretty intense kiss, which left her weak in the knees and practically hanging onto Steve for dear life.

“Well that was worth it,” she whispered, when she’d caught her breath. “I’m so glad you didn’t actually go to the moon. There’s been rumors.”

Steve full on laughed at that, a joyous sight which she’d never witnessed before, but was very glad to finally see. His eyes crinkled, his face lit up and he looked so adorably cute, her heart turned into a puddle of goo.

“Don’t know where they came up with that one,” he remarked, shaking his head in amusement. “But I have no intentions of going to the moon. I’d rather stay here with you.”

“Good, because I need some more of those green beans, ASAP,” Darcy replied mischievously, barely refraining from making an eggplant joke. She didn’t want to be TOO forward.

“How about you come over and I can give you the grand tour?” Steve suggested.

“Yes, peas.” She responded, making him laugh again.

Before long, the neighbors were gossiping again, this time over the shocking sight of “Mr. Grant” making out with Dr. Lewis right in his backyard.

“I knew it!” Old Mrs. Richards chuckled, petting her dog gleefully.

“I’ll volunteer to make their wedding cake!” Exclaimed Mrs. Messer.

[frogtanii]

Ah, it’s okay that the update is late. You’re cute www. Nice to know that you slept very very well! And it also gives time for me (wind anon) to comment on the last chapter :D

Anyway, Meiko...such...petulance... a complete utter brat. Worse than a child, because children are cuter. “You’re so evil”? My gosh, if you didn’t want them interacting with YN why did you even bother inviting YN? You’re the one who recommended YN to Iwaizumi to bring to management. Stop pushing the blame on top of YN. Everything has come from the result of your own actions and you are the one who needs to take credit for that.

The only person YN really interacted with was Atsumu. She was staying away from everyone else because they were literally antagonizing her because of what you said. YN is not a punching bag for you to blame all your problems on. The problems are you Meiko. You’re the problematic one. The reason the others started interacting with her is because you yourself drove them away.

Meiko is just a...(any words I come up with would be an insult to the words being associated with Meiko—) uh...she is a feral festering flob-goblin fleeing the ferocious flames of our combined wrath. Yes.

Okay... onto the next parts... Daichi and Akaashi questioning Suga’s choice. They literally saw him leaving the club upset right? They need to see an eye doc to get a new prescription...been blinded by so much of Meiko’s BS that they literally cannot see...

Meiko is uh...female dog...? (Wind anon very much trying not to swear/curse) anyway, first she goes all possessive like. She thinks she should be the most important thing always and it really really shows. Like with Oikawa wanting to take some time to get clothing for his channel. She literally has to make him go to the beach with her instead. And Akaashi being all timid with his request of wanting to stay and read like—in a respectable relationship, you are supportive of others’ time and hobbies and Meiko is literally a parasite that has ruined their self esteems. (Insert the “you’ve ruined a perfectly good child—he’s got anxiety” meme thing).

But moving on... ah...we love YN so so much. YN Supremacy banner be weathering wind and rain without any damage. Love to YN. Appreciation to fans for respecting privacy and knowing that while they are vlogging their life, they are still people and you should not go past their boundaries. (Cough cough, them noticing Suga’s low mood). And everyone being considerate is wonderful.

We love bantering. We love feeling included. I hope Suga feels much much better now. Maybe the YN fanclub could all stargaze together. Like, laying down on the beach and seeing the night sky... something calming, in open space, and not hectic or cramped. It would probably help Suga, I think.

Also matching bracelets wwwwww. It’s so cute and wholesome.

Okay, that’s it for my reaction! Onto my thoughts/ideas.

I just imagined YN and Oikawa painting each other’s nails. I myself am terrible at painting nails (I make the most uneven coats, aaaa) but I think it would be cute for them. Like, a diagonal design of sparkly nail polish (so once the nail grows out, it would still look pretty and stuff). Not sure if I’m explaining this well but I just think that them making selfies with their matching nail designs would be adorable.

But besides that... if Akaashi wishes, my offer to teach him how to write a decent poem is still open for a limited time! All it needs is remorse towards YN and limited contact with Meiko, and he will receive an entire 7 day lesson plan about poetry, it’s aspects, and how to compose a thoughtful, mannered poem, with an added bonus of a lesson on how you should recite poetry.

Okay, I think that’s where I’ll end off this one! Much thanks to you dear fr0ggy! I already sent you the sketch I was working on with Omi but chances are I’ll be finishing it next weekend (am a bit swamped with work rn ///). I greatly appreciate you and I wish you a pleasant day!

hey hey!! all ur compliments make me feel flustered but in a good way hehe <3 && yn supremacy!!!! she’s so lovely 🤩

&& yn n oikawa painting nails is so cute???????? wow i might have to include it ANDD I LOVE THE POETRY LESSONS FOR AKAASHI he needs it lol — ur so sweet and i hope you have a happy, laugh filled day!! <3

[what-big-teeth]

Admire (Male Naga ; Fic Raffle)

And done! @glugenash​ requested a meet-cute between a male reader and a naga of any gender. I decided to go with a male naga and let my imagination take hold to make this wonderful idea even cuter. I hope you all enjoy this fic! Male Reader (POV) x Male Monster If there’s one place you can truly relax while curling up with a good book, it’s the library.

Ever since you moved into town for a better job opportunity, you attempted to combat the new stressors that turned up as a result. Exercise, meditation, doing the bare minimum on the weekends. Nothing could compare to the public library and its innate charm. This is why you’re seated at your favorite table.

Tucked into one of the historical building’s many corners beside a large window, there’s always just enough sunlight to happily bask in and use while reading. These simple reasons—and the woodsy, vanillin scent of the surrounding book collection—are why you’ve decided to revisit an old series. Something about embracing a nostalgic memory at your table alleviates your pent-up stress like nothing else.

Which is why the sensation of being watched feels so foreign.

You’ve attempted to look around as discreetly as possible. But your eyes haven’t encountered anything out of the ordinary. Just the usual, book-lined shelves and wooden lectern holding an old, massive dictionary.

Still, you can’t fully shake the feeling. Your gut has rarely led you astray, which is why you keep glancing around. After a fleeting moment, you think you see a dark shape shrink away behind a nearby shelf. You stand up, intent on finding out who your odd observer is. But an insistent buzzing from your jeans pocket breaks your focus. Knowing that your library hasn’t made the full transition to a ‘loud facility’ yet, you step away from your spot, leaving your book behind to take the call outside.

Unsurprisingly, it’s work. Or rather, your boss. One of your co-workers has taken ill suddenly, and he needs you to fill in for her shift until he recovers. There’ll be extra pay as compensation, which helps to sweeten the deal. But when your boss mentions the project your co-worker has been toiling over for the last few weeks, you silently wince. You honestly would rather not take on the extra work, but the extra money would really help.

Your boss says your name in a questioning manner. Looks like you accidentally zoned out.

“Sure thing,” you say with a forced, cheerful tone. You can already feel the mounting stress that’ll have you on edge. With a final, merry “thanks!” and farewell, the call ends. This new development calls for some extra self-care.

You head back inside the library, making your way over to the built-in cafe. It’s a welcomed new addition, especially since they make some of the best, homebrew tea and pastries you’ve ever had. With your cup of honeyed chamomile and warmed confection in hand, you return to your sunshine laden table.

Your book is in its usual spot, but it’s been closed with a tasseled bookmark keeping track of your place. You didn’t pick up one while greeting Jason at the circulation desk. After mentally marking which page you left off on, you untuck it from between the pages. The design is, well, it’s amazing. Hand drawn swirls of complimentary colors balance each other out while being lined with careful, fine-tipped black lines. And the tassel is uniquely soft to the touch, the threads feeling similar to silk. You’re so drawn to the workmanship of the bookmark that you almost overlook the neatly folded piece of paper on the table.

The Farandale Chronicles is one of my favorite series. If you’d like to read something similar, I’d like to suggest the Crystal of Might series, written by Malkus Morak.  — D

You re-read the note a few times. But no matter how much you attempt to place the neat handwriting, you can’t. There isn’t anything untoward about the suggestion, honestly. And the bookmark is an unexpected, if creative gift. Decision made, you replace the bookmark and head over to the Science Fiction section.

It doesn’t take long to find the suggested book and read the blurb on the jacket’s interior. You can’t deny that it sounds like something right up your alley. Even better, there are three more books in the series.

“Think I will try this out,” you mutter to yourself. “Thanks for the suggestion, D.”

You bundle the new book together with your old favorite, being cautious of your food, and fall in line before the circulation desk. It doesn’t take long for you to reach the front and greet the tawny, curly-haired minotaur behind the counter with a smile.

“How are things going, Jason?” He nods in reply, stalwart as ever as he carefully checks both books for possible damage before checking them out to you.

“Three weeks, as usual,” he murmurs with a deep voice. He gestures to the new book you’ve decided to read. “Should I put the sequel on hold for you?”

“That’d be great!”

After nimbly using the keyboard to complete your request, he hands both books to you with a gentle puff of air.

“Anything else I can help you with?”

Wetting your lips, you tug the handwritten note from between the cover and first page of Morak’s book.

“Would you happen to know whose handwriting this is?”

Jason gently takes the note from you, his warm brown eyes scanning the contents. With a small cough, he hands it back to you.

“Sorry, I don’t. But I’m glad they wrote on a slip of paper instead of damaging the book.”

You can’t help but chuckle. Ever since you met him, Jason’s always been a stickler for the rules when it comes to the library. Quiet yet firm. You pocket the note, being careful to not crease it any further.

“That’s fine,” you say. “It was worth a shot, anyway.”

“Be sure to finish your food while on site,” he says. “The Director is still leery about folks taking off with the cafe’s food.”

“Don’t worry,” you say, smiling. “There’s a bench outside that called to me when I stepped out earlier. Take care.”

As you leave with your new reading materials and food, you can’t stop the thrill of excitement that wells up inside you. Besides being a place of reprieve, you beloved library has provided an interesting mystery as well. And it’s one you intend to solve.

_______________________________________________

Like clockwork, you return the same day next week. Thankfully, your boss was kind enough to give you the weekend off after you took on your duties and that of your sick co-worker. It gives you just enough time to destress at the library. This time, you make a beeline for the cafe, ordering some calming tea and a new, but delectable looking pastry. Jason greets you at the circulation desk and checks out Molak’s second book to you. Once you’ve checked that your usual spot hasn’t been taken, you swiftly lay claim with your purchased items and settle in your seat.

After drinking your tea and eating your pastry, you find yourself feeling better. You open the hardback’s cover, highly interested in seeing what’ll happen to the protagonists next. But two slips of paper flutter out from the book, like before. The material is thicker this time around, similar to reinforced sketchbook paper. Your eyes widen as you realize why.

The subject of the drawing is someone you know too well. It’s you. The sketch depicts a past you sitting where you are now, looking content with a soft smile on your face as you read. Little details jump out as you take in the entirety of the work. The slight dents on the side of the old table you graze your hand over time and time again. The way you hold a book that you find immensely but surprisingly pleasing. The almost starstruck expression lighting up your features as you leave this world for another while reading…

Underneath, in familiar elegant writing, the caption reads ‘Entranced Beauty’. Heat wells up within your cheeks as you read the words over and over again. Your fingertip glides against the lettering as you pick up the other slip of paper from the carpeted floor.

There have been many times I’ve wanted to tell you how wonderful you look when you’re lost in your own world. But I’m afraid that, verbally, words fail me. At least this skill of mine can say more than what I could ever hope. For a while now, I’ve hoped I could be invited to come along with you as another book takes hold of your imagination. But I refuse to think that such lofty hopes can be achieved, considering what I am. I’m merely glad that my suggestion was pleasing to you, and I hope I can continue to provide doors for you to walk through when you need a break from this world.  — D

Your heart pounds loudly inside your chest and head as the heat in your cheeks spread throughout your whole body. All you can think about is discovering who your admirer is and meeting them face to face. After all, someone who can write and such sweet thoughts and draw so beautifully can’t be as bad as they think. With this thought as encouragement, you find Molak’s collection and take the third book of his series from the shelf. You wait in line behind a couple, a gorgon and gargoyle, as Jason helps them with their items. Once they’re taken care of, you step up to the circulation desk and set the book down.

“Find everything you were looking for?” he asks.

You’re tempted to say ‘yes’, but stop short.

“No,” you say. “I...I need your help.”

You show Jason the sketch and note, asking once again if he happens to know anything. After all, the note and sketch had to be put in place before you checked out the second book. And all holds are reserved behind the circulation desk for all patrons.

A strange silence falls between the two of you. It’s broken by Jason coughing into his closed fist as he averts his gaze.

“You do know something, don’t you?” you murmur.Jason glances your way before letting his eyes drop to the computer screen in front of him.

“I get it.” You pause to reign in your voice, surprised at the sudden loudness of it. “I understand you’re trying to protect D, especially because they feel like they can’t face me. But you know me, Jason. I won’t hurt them. I just want to meet them and tell them my appreciation.”

Once more, you bring out the sketch and place it on the circulation desk before you. “Please, help me.”

Jason’s gaze finds the sketch and settles on it. He finally lets out a soft huff of air then rubs the back of his neck with his hand.

“I didn’t realize how deeply D fell for you,” he says. “I thought it was just a crush. Alright. I’ll help you out. Not only do you deserve a happy ending, but so does D. Just...be gentle with him, alright? He’s been through a lot.”

“I will,” you say, letting your words carry your promise. “Thank you, Jason.”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” he mutters. “Gonna have to see how this goes, first. Alright, D always comes like clockwork on Wednesday evenings...”

You take Jason at his word and return to the library at the time and day he suggested. Sure, it involved rearranging your work schedule somewhat, but your now-well co-worker was more than happy to return the favor you showed her. Probably helps that she’s somewhat of a romantic and readily agreed after you explained the situation to her.With careful steps, you make your way towards your usual spot. The last few rays of the setting sun fall onto the table and the naga sitting at it.

The quiet breath you’re taking in stalls at the sight.

With rich, golden brown skin, you can’t help but wonder why D would think himself unattractive. More so thanks to his jet black hair, which is pulled back into a bun, and his matching scales. Even the slight creme of his underbelly, which you can barely make out due to his button-down shirt, is charming. Remembering Jason’s advice, you carefully approach the table as he remains lost in a book held in his clawed hands. It’s the third book in Molak’s fantasy series. You can’t help but smile at the realization.

“Excuse me,” you say.

D startles, tensing at your soft voice. His pupils dilate somewhat in reply as he looks at you. With him looking head on at you, you notice the scaled skin on the sides of his neck. A hood, like that of a cobra. He looks close to bolting right then and there, but you gently press on.

“By chance, are you D?”

D gulps down a few breaths of air.

“N-no, I’m…”

Your body intuitively moves, laying a gentle hand on his upper arm in what you hope is a soothing gesture.

“I want the same thing,” you say. “I want to let you into my world so that we can make one of our own. Together.”

The scaled hood at his neck flares somewhat, but you don’t feel any fear. If anything, you’re entranced. How can such a charming, handsome naga think he’s anything less? After a few tense moments, D finally relaxes then nods.

“I...I am D.”

He meets your gaze, and you almost feel yourself fall into the molten gold of his eyes.

“I didn’t want you to know because not too many people want anything to do with me. My lineage is from a King Cobra clan, which makes me venomous. And that tends to make others uncomfortable. I-I didn’t want you to feel the same, but I couldn’t hide how I felt about you after I first saw you a few months ago. Jason thought...he suggested I could let you know anonymously and I agreed. I thought that would be best. I’m just surprised you’d want to seek me out.”

You can’t help but smile while gently gripping D’s upper arm.

“You left me with an amazing mystery to solve. And as much as you want to know me, I found myself wanting to know the person behind the ‘D’ moniker. I still do, if that’s alright with you.”

D gives you a soft smile in return, which reveals a hint of his sharp fangs. They’re rather cute, just like the rest of him. He stands up and extends a hand towards you.

“Then, let me officially introduce myself. I’m Danilo.”

You take his hand and shake it while giving him your name. When he attempts to pull his hand away, you gently squeeze it. Danilo’s breath catches as you maneuver your fingers so they twine with his.

“B-by chance,” he nearly squeaks out, “do you like Filipino food? I know a place that serves dishes similar to what I grew up with back home.”

“I haven’t had it before,” you say, “but I’m excited to try it out. I hope you don’t mind acting as my culinary tour guide.”

Danilo gives you another soft smile as he huffs out a laugh.

“Not at all.”

You both head towards the circulation desk, where you see Jason positively beaming at the two of you. As Danilo tells you about his work as a graphic designer and animator, you find yourself hanging on his every word. As he hands Jason the third and final book of the trilogy, you smile.

You can’t wait to see what else you both have in common.

[annzybwrites]

Rainy Days

Anonymous: u asked for fluffy snufmin prompts and I’m here to deliver!:) it’s cold and rainy and gross out so moomin convinces snufkin to stay in at moominhouse. snufkin tries to teach moomin how to play an instrument and moomin tries to teach him how to bake smth. they’re both bad at the thing which the other finds adorable <3

Annzy: I am so sorry this took so long, but I hope there’s enough fluff <3 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Snufkin, can you put aside your pride for one second?” Moomin wasn’t sure if he was scolding or pleading with his boyfriend at this point. All he knew was that it had been raining for the past two days, and Snufkin had to keep moving his tent to higher and higher ground to avoid the mud, and really things would be so much simpler if he would just come stay in Moominhouse until the rain cleared up. 

“This is the last rainy day,” Snufkin argued, rolling up his tent while Moomin held an umbrella over them. “I can feel it.” 

“You said that yesterday.” 

“That was yesterday.” 

“Just come inside!” Moomin pulled at the skin underneath one of his eyes. “If today really is the last rainy day, then staying in a nice, warm, dry house until it clears up would be best. And then we can go worm hunting as soon as the rain stops!” 

Snufkin hummed, fixing his tent to the top of his pack before looking at Moomin with a small smile on his lips. “Trying to butter me up?” 

“More like trying to resist throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you to Moominhouse.” 

Snufkin laughed at that, swinging his backpack on with a small sigh. “All right, you’ve won me over.” 

“Finally!” Moomin groaned, snatching Snufkin’s hand and starting to lead him off before he could change his mind. 

~~~

Moominmamma wasn’t usually too strict when it came to messes and dirt. But at the sight of Snufkin with dried mud in his hair, on his legs, and stuck on the ends of his tunic, she insisted he take a warm bath while she washed out his clothes for him. Thankfully they had a worn-in outfit that Snufkin considered acceptable to wear for brief periods; a plain, mustard yellow, cotton frock. 

“It’s so weird to see you in anything other than green,” Moomin commented when Snufkin entered his room. He’d spent the time idly doodling some flowers, but he was happy to put it away for awhile. 

“Is it?” Snufkin brushed out the fabric, chuckling a little. “How would I look in red?” 

“I can’t even imagine,” Moomin shook his head, happily padding over with a smile. “Well, what should we do for our rainy day adventure? Play a board game? Act out scenes from a book? Oh! Let’s bake something!” 

“Bake?” Snufkin was already looking forward to whatever sweets Moomin was in the mood for. He’d become quite a fantastic baker over the years.  

“Yes!” Moomin was already walking out of his room and down the stairs. “I can show you how to make a rhubarb pie!”  

“Oh…” Snufkin hesitantly followed him down the stairs. “Aren’t pies rather hard to make?” 

“Maybe at first,” Moomin admitted. “But I’d say they just take more time. Especially if you want the lattice covering on top, but it just looks cuter, don’t you think?” 

“If you say so.” Snufkin tried not to feel too nervous. If it was a rhubarb pie, he could just help prepare the filling and let Moomin worry about the rest. He absolutely hated working with pastry dough; it always turned out lumpy and stuck to his hands or his utensils whenever he tried. 

At first his plan worked out well; Snufkin washed and cut the rhubarb while Moomin started mixing the flour, sugar, and butter together into a nice, large ball of dough. But once Snufkin was done preparing the rhubarb, Moomin called him over to the table, insisting, “Rolling out the dough into a big circle is the best part.”

“Oh, is it?” Snufkin kept a smile on his face despite his heart leaping into his throat. 

“Oh yes!” Moomin separated the ball into two, smaller spheres, handing one to Snufkin. “I’ll let you use the rolling pin; a little easier than using your hands.” 

“I’m sure.”  Snufkin nodded, acting like he knew what he was doing as Moomin handed him the rolling pin. He stared down at his ball of dough, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Moomin was already making good progress with flattening out his own ball with his hands. With a deep breath, he pressed the pin into the center and started rolling, hoping it would work out and that he wouldn’t look like a goon. 

He should have known that was too much to hope for. 

With each new roll, more and more of the dough started sticking to the pin, and Snufkin was quickly becoming frustrated with just how often he had to peel it off and lay it back down on the table. “A little easier than using your hands” indeed. He was so absorbed with his struggle that he didn’t realize Moomin had already finished flattening and rounding his ball of dough. 

“Snufkin.” Moomin was clearly amused, and when Snufkin turned to look he saw a playful gleam in those baby blue eyes. “Need some help?” 

“Oh, no.” Snufkin shook his head, trying to roll out the dough fast, hoping it wouldn’t stick. No such luck; if anything that made it worse. “I have it all under control, thank you.” 

“Ah, I see.” Moomin nodded, obviously stifling a large grin. “Then I’ll start mixing the filling together while you finish… that.”

“Yes, I’d appreciate it.” 

Moomin nodded, chuckling a little as he began gathering spices from the cabinets. Snufkin watched him for a moment to make sure he wasn’t looking before returning to the menacing pastry. The dough looked more like a lumpy, cracked plate rather than a nice circle, so he began rolling it into a ball again before starting over. He put the rolling pin aside before digging in with his hands, since that had seemed to work for Moomintroll just fine. Except, just like before, all that ended up happening was the dough sticking to his hands rather than the rolling pin. 

“How’s it going?” 

Snufkin felt the fur on his back stand on end as he turned to look at his grinning boyfriend. “It’s going.” 

Moomin chuckled, tactfully sliding the flour to him. “A little of this should take care of that stickiness you’re struggling with.” 

“Right, of course.” Snufkin tried to smile nonchalantly, hoping his cheeks weren’t red as he reached for the flour. A little sprinkle later, and the dough was finally behaving properly. Now all he had to deal with was the fact that he was apparently incapable of flattening it evenly; some parts were thin as paper while others were little, thick pockets. 

Snufkin bristled when he heard Moomin start to laugh, and he quickly turned to glare softly. “You’re enjoying my suffering?” 

“Sorry!” Moomin covered his mouth, shoulders shaking with his laughter. “It’s just such a rare sight to see you like this.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like…” Moomin paused, trying to think of the best way to word this. “Like someone who doesn’t know everything?” 

“I never claimed to know everything—” 

“But you do act like it sometimes,” Moomin pointed out, grinning wider. “With all your grand stories and wise words. I’m just saying, it’s nice to see you failing at something.” 

Snufkin pouted at him, certain his cheeks were at least pink as Moomin continued laughing at him. “What use is dough-making for a tramp?” 

Moomin shrugged, leaning in to nuzzle his nose against Snufkin’s cheek as he pushed his hands away from the dough. “Just let me take care of this, all right? You can be adorable somewhere else.” 

Snufkin tensed up from the casual way Moomin said that, a warm shiver running down his spine. “What, you—my struggling is adorable?” 

“Very much so, actually.” Moomin was thoroughly enjoying himself as he rounded the dough for the third time that afternoon, picking up the rolling pin and humming away as he easily levelled it into a perfect, little circle. “And there we go.” Moomin grinned at him again, pointing towards the counter. “Can you get me a knife so I can cut out the lattice?” 

Snufkin huffed quietly, stepping over to fetch him his knife while embarrassment sat heavy in his stomach. He really didn’t like looking like a fool, but at least it was only Moomintroll who saw. And to be called adorable on top of it all! How completely undignified. 

“Thank you, Snufkin.” Moomin beamed as he took the knife from him. “And just so you know, you look even more adorable with that pout on your lips.” 

Snufkin was sure his entire face was red as he covered his mouth with his hand. “I am not pouting.” 

“Oh, you’re not?” 

“Absolutely. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be in the living room.” Mamma could use some company as she knitted, anyway. 

~~~

The pie turned out beautifully, and the whole family came to the kitchen to enjoy it. Pappa complimented them on their perfect, flaky crust, and Moomin couldn’t help but laugh a little until Snufkin gave him a look. He didn’t say anything, of course; he didn’t want to embarrass Snufkin. No, he’d rather keep the image of Snufkin glaring down at the dough with flushed cheeks and a frustrated pout all to himself. Maybe he’d try and sketch it out later in his journal, just for posterity’s sake. 

It was still raining after they finished their rhubarb snack, so Moomin and Snufkin went up to his room to stare out across the cloudy skies and damp valley. 

“What should we do now?” Moomin asked. 

“Hm.” Snufkin tapped his fingers twice against the windowsill before pushing himself towards his pack. “Let’s make some music. Rainy weather is perfect to compose to.” 

Moomin brightened, happily going to sit on his bed. “I do love your songs.” And it would be so exciting to hear him compose something in real time! 

“I’m glad.” Snufkin pulled out his trusty harmonica before going to sit next to him on the bed. He blew through it once, as if to check to make sure it still worked, and then he began to play. Short, brisk notes, as if to imitate the pitter-patter of the rain, but sudden and loud enough to make Moomin’s ears twitch occasionally. He stopped after a few moments, turning to Moomintroll with a small grin of his own. “Actually, would you like to learn how to play?” 

“Me?” Moomin’s eyes widened as he pointed to himself. “Oh, I don’t know how good I’d be.” 

“Give it a try.” Snufkin handed the instrument over. “Can’t be any worse than me with pie dough.” 

Moomin couldn’t help but laugh at that, covering his mouth again as he did. He was glad that Snufkin wasn’t too sore about earlier; he’d wondered if he’d gone a bit far with his teasing. “You have a point.” He took the harmonica, simply staring at it for a few moments before blowing into it experimentally. It was surprising how loud it was, but he supposed it was bound to sound louder to the one playing it. 

Snufkin began trying to explain two different ways to isolate one note on the harmonica. One involved puckering your lips into a small oval shape, while the other involved using your tongue to block some of the other holes. 

“You put your tongue on this thing?” Moomin interrupted. 

“Sometimes.” Snufkin shrugged. “To get a certain sound. It makes it easier to add in or take away chords, too.” 

“And you’re sure you want me to play this?” 

“You’re clean enough, aren’t you?” 

“That’s not really the point.” 

“I don’t mind, Moomintroll.” Snufkin shook his head, a fond smile on his face. “Go on, try and play something. Just search until you find the note you want.” 

“All right.” Moomin swallowed nervously, staring into the daunting holes of the harmonica before holding it up to his puckered lips and giving a cautious blow. It did take a bit of practice to play just one note, and whenever he tried to find a new one he found all sorts of unpleasant sounds coming out of the instrument before he got to where he wanted. After only a few minutes, his mouth was already starting to hurt and he stopped to rub at his lips. 

“How do you play this for hours?” 

Snufkin laughed, taking the harmonica back as he explained, “Well, for one thing, you were moving your mouth too much. You should move the instrument with your hands, not your lips.” 

“Oooh.” Moomin groaned. “That makes sense.” 

Snufkin chuckled for a bit longer, wiping the instrument down once with his sleeve. “I know what you meant earlier now,” he spoke up, eyes twinkling with mischief as he teased, “You also look adorable when you’re struggling.” 

Moomin felt his fur stand on end as heat travelled down his body. “Oh, hush.” Moomin gently pushed at his shoulder, smiling a little at the joyful laugh that came out of Snufkin’s mouth. “Let’s just agree that we’re both adorable, all right?” 

Snufkin paused for a moment, thinking that over. “Only if you agree that you’re the most adorable, being so large and fluffy.” 

Moomin snorted, leaning in to nuzzle Snufkin’s forehead. “Deal.” 

[bangtanloverboys]

“There’s something tragic about you” // jhs

summary - after your usual model cancels on you for your art project, your best friend comes to the rescue.

pairing - jung hoseok x gender neutral!art student!reader

genre - fluff (read warnings tho)

word count - 1.7k

warning - nudity, like 1 swear word, kissing, the classic titantic reference

author’s note - this was a sentence starter from this prompt list and it was sent in by @mlkydrms​ not sure if you wanted angst but this is what came out of it. hope you like it!

If you told yourself this morning that your best friend was going to be modeling for one of your art projects, you wouldn’t have believed it. Why? Because your final had to include a nude model and no way was Jung Hoseok going to be nude in front of you. 

Yet here you were, 4 pm in the afternoon in your living room waiting for Hoseok to exit the bathroom.

Originally, you were supposed to have Jin be your model. He has been your model partner for a few projects now, he was just effortless to draw, especially his details. Unfortunately, he got the stomach flu and needed to stay home to recuperate. You were no stranger when it came to cancellations and rain checks when working with models, however the project was due in the next three days. You stupidly put aside all your project to try and focus on your other courses, as did Seokjin. But now there was not enough time for you to fully pull together a full piece with Jin being sick. 

This had led to you slowly freaking out, before you reached full blown panic mode, you called Hoseok. While he wasn’t always the best with words, he was a great listener and even the smallest thing from him made you smile. As you told him your predicament, the line went silent for a few moments. 

“What if. . . I was your model?”

“Excuse me what?” You were stunned at his suggestion. “Hobi. . . it’s a nude painting I need to work on-”

“I know.” He stated, how he was speaking so calmly about this blew your mind. “Your project is due soon, and you need a model. I’m more than happy to help, unless you don’t want me to?”

You bit your lip in thought. He was right, you needed a model and needed one now. You could ask one of your other friends, but here was your best friend offering himself up on a silver plate. Letting out a sigh, you agreed. Hoseok said he’d be over in a bit so that gave you plenty of time to set up and prepare yourself to see. . .all of him. 

Soon as he arrived though, there was this sort of air of awkwardness. You instructed him to go into the bathroom to strip and there was a towel for him to cover himself. He nodded and quickly excused himself. You could see it in the tips of his ears that he was just as nervous as you were about this, seeing him naked was one thing you really weren’t sure about. Because as cliche as it is, you held feelings for him. You already held back on your feelings in fear of it hurting your friendship, but how would seeing him naked impact your friendship.

The clearing of a throat pulled you from your thoughts, you turned your head to see Hoseok standing there, his golden chest revealed to the world and a white towel held tightly around his waist. You resisted the urge to drool as he shuffled into the living room to where you set up the makeshift studio. 

“Uhh where do you want me?” 

You quickly looked between him and the set up. “Sit on the box, back facing me.” You watched as he quickly discarded the towel around his waist and followed your instruction. “Bend your left leg, tuck your right underneath it. Right arm goes to the back and drape your left arm over your bent leg.” Hoseok assumed the pose but he still looked a bit stiff. “Hobi, you can back out if you want to. . .”

“I’m fine!” His voice squeaked. “I mean, I’m fine just. . .new experiences, right?”

You gave him a light smile and nodded. “For the both of us. Now relax your shoulders, you look like you’re being held at gunpoint.” That surely got a kick out of him, his shoulders bounced as he chuckled. “Stop moving!”

“Alright, alright.” He rolled his eyes at you. You could feel his stare as you walked over to your seat and picked up your canvas and charcoal. “You gonna draw me like one of your French girls?”

“Oh my god, how long have you been holding that in?” You rolled your eyes at the cheesy predictable joke. Hoseok just laughed at your reaction, you narrowed your eyes at him and held up the charcoal threateningly. “Sit still and don’t smile!”

Then you got to work, you eyed him carefully before making any strict movement on the canvas. With him being a dance major, it was no surprise to you that he was fit, but you never really did appreciate Hoseok muscle build before now; you were glad you were finally given the excuse. He wasn’t built too big, but there was a softness around each and every edge of him. 

The two of you just sat in comfortable silence, the only sound being of your sketching. You started to feel his eyes on you as you were working on his torso. “Eyes off me, Hoseok.”

“So you get to eye me up while I have to look at the wall? How cruel,” he tsked, but he followed your order and looked back away. “You just look cute when your concentrating.” 

You nearly snap your charcoal pencil in half. “C-come again?”

“You do this really cute thing where you stick your tongue out and scrunch your nose whenever you’re trying to work.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders. You could feel your face flush at his words. “You’re even cuter when you blush.”

“Where is this coming from, exactly?” You ask, trying your best to continue the piece and not fuck it up. 

“I dunno, the fact I’m not wearing pants at the moment has strangely given me the nerve to flirt with you.” He looked at you from the side of his eyes and raised his eyebrows at you.

“And on that note, I’d like to ask if we could put this conversation on hold until you have your pants back on.” He nodded and the silence resumed. 

The torso and arms finished, all you had left was his head. You squint your eyes as you try to find and take in every last detail of his face. The curve of his nose to the sharpness of his jawline to each loose strand of his dark locks. Hoseok really was a man to behold. While you didn’t have a good angle on his eyes, you focused really hard on them, trying to capture him completely. 

“Aand, done.” You said, signing off the piece and dating it at the bottom. With the word, he relaxed his arms and let out a sigh. You watched as he leaned over to grab his towel to once again, cover his modesty. He stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders back. “Sore?”

“Yeah, I don’t know how Jin-hyung does it.” He groaned, placing a hand on his shoulder to try and ease the ache.

“Yoga, and a long hot shower afterwards.” You say honestly. “He used to take them at my place but after the amount of projects, my water bill was going up so I had to kick him out.”

“Honestly, that doesn’t sound half bad right now.” He noted.

“What? The long hot shower or me kicking you out?” You laugh at his strange statement. 

“The hot shower,” he snarkily replied. “Can I see it?”

“Oh yeah sure,” canvas in hand, you take a few steps over to where Hoseok sat and hold out the canvas for him to see. He let out a silent ‘wow’ as he dragged his eyes over the drawing, drinking each and every detail. When his eyes came back up to his face, he had a puzzled look on his face. 

“Can I ask something?” 

“Why is something wrong?” You quickly looked back to the painting and tried to spot the possible mistake you made. 

“No no no, there’s nothing wrong but, I just want to know what you like best about the drawing.” You watched as his cheeks turned a shade of pink.

“Are you asking in general or because it’s you?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Both possibly,” he laughed lightly at you. “What is it?”

“Hmm,” you take a good look at the picture. “Your expression. There’s something tragic about you, something beautifully tragic that just sort of draws me in.”

You look back up to him and he’s staring right back at you. “Beautifully tragic?”

“Shut up,” you place the canvas off to the side. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then help me understand,” he moved his head to try and look at you. “I want to know what the artist sees.”

You sigh and take both of your charcoal covered hands and place them on either side of his face. You look over his features, trying to find the words to describe what you mean. “Your eyes. Your eyes look like you’re in love, yet you hold back.” Slowly, Hoseok’s face came closer to yours. “Like you’re scared of what might happen if you. . .”

He was mere centimeters away from you now, his breath was ghosting over your lips. “If I. . . ?” His eyes were still locked with yours.

“If you let yourself love.” You finished; with his face still in your hands, you trace your thumb over his cheek bone. 

Hoseok’s eyes dropped down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. “Will you let me?”

“Yes,” you breathe. With your permission, he closes the distance between you and presses his lips to yours. Your hands move from his cheeks to his hair, making purchase in his lock. His arms snake around your waist, trying to pull you closer, but due to the awkward angle, it quickly grew uncomfortable and you both pulled away.

“So, are we gonna talk about it now?” Hoseok laughed, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I don’t know, are you wearing pants?” You snorted, “I meant what I said, go put pants on and we can have that conversation.”

“I believe you threw out that reasoning when you kissed me,” he retorted, but he complied and sat up, ready to get changed. But the sudden movement caused him to groan, “Second thought, I might need a hot shower.”

“Oh my god, just go!” You laughed at him as he stiffly made his way back to the bathroom. You rolled your eyes as you heard the shower turn on and let out a sigh, maybe it was a good thing you had a nude assignment.

[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 1

because we all really wanted smitten!Luka so I’m making it happen, PERIOD. slight AU? canon divergence? where Luka begins to frequent Tom & Sabine’s bakery when his sister needs a pick-me-up through her first year in university, and may or may not have a thing for the new girl at the register once summer vacation hits. and tweets about it.

(yes, i’m still working on La Joconde! only two parts left :( but i hadn’t posted any lukanette content in a Hot Minute and wanted to share a bit of what i’ve been working on. enjoy, loves!)

at T&S for mom and sister and oh god there’s a cute girl i’ve never seen at the register

Post.

i think she’s got flour on her nose, and she probably doesn’t even know it’s there, and she’s adorable

Post.

send help

Post.

That’s the magical thing about social media, isn’t it. The cool, casual, even bored expression you sport in a waiting room or on the subway is a master at hiding away every all-caps rant you swipe out with your thumb. At keeping every moment you want to scream, excited or outraged, under lock and key in your chest while your fingers do all the talking. At cementing the lines in your brow and your lips while you broadcast how much you’re Gay And Dyingggg—and yes, you really need the capitalization and those extra letters for the emphasis—over the image of a kitten falling asleep mid-meal. The viral-video echo of a child’s singing in a big-box store. The pretty girl in the coffee shop with the floral cloth headband, the nude lip, the grey eyes that stop you in your tracks and somehow always seem to meet yours whenever you Just So Happen to look up.

It’s those capital letters, you know. They really do wonders for emphasis. Emphasis.

In a city like Paris, the hundreds of thousands of people you could pass in a single day would never know the intimacies they could stumble upon by happenstance. The ones you choose to share with a few hundred strangers, friends across oceans or friends of friends who happened upon you or lovers of art the way you love art, because the distance and the screens make it safer.

In Paris, almost no one knows who Luka really is, aside from a blue-haired busker downtown who sometimes frequents coffee shop stages. Or some guy who delivers their evening meals when they don’t feel like cooking. No one has to know. And he’s been fine with that for as long as he’s had these accounts.

He wouldn’t call himself a stranger to the internet. He hardly could; he’s a product of it, raised by it, like most anyone else his age. Frankly, he could go so far as to call it his third best friend—third, because his sister and his mother might fight him for not putting them first, and because he values them enough to put them there. But on the metro, he’s near invisible, and online, he’s Sort Of Someone. A set of hands and a guitar and strings of notes to pull in a few hundred admirers, and even fewer friends he’s never met in person. He doesn’t have to, he’s decided, for them to mean something.

And he’s getting the keen sense that they’re all already hanging onto his last three tweets. Or will be, if they’re not already awake yet. (He’ll never understand that—his body almost never lets him sleep in past eight, no matter how late he goes to bed.)

He has to gather himself before he goes in—which is hilarious, because he must have been to Tom and Sabine’s bakery at least a hundred times by now. Or at least, enough times that they know him by name and to save him a napoleon or two whenever he’s in the area. Is it really that difficult this time because of a girl?

And then she… whoever she is, she smiles at a customer, and it looks like utter sunshine, and almost instantly he wishes she were smiling at him. Just for a few seconds.

Yep. It really is that difficult.

With a flip of his stomach and one last post—all right, prayer circle before i place this order—Luka pushes into the tiny bakery just as the customer is coming out. He shuffles among the racks and display cases as though he’s in a museum, and given the care that goes into these decorations, he might as well be. Usually it’s Mrs. Cheng who’s at the register, humming along to some classical piece they’re playing overhead—it fits her, being so traditional—and there’s a stack of finished cake or pastry orders beside her on the counter. The orders are still there this time, but the music sounds younger; it must be one of those study playlists he sometimes finds online or touches upon when he needs some extra inspiration for his own music.

And there is the girl, with her chin in her hand and the flour still on her nose, absently twirling her pencil as she stares down at a sketchbook like she’s about to get into a fight with it. She doesn’t look bored there. Actually, Luka isn’t sure he’s ever seen anyone so focused before, because even the bell over the door signaling his entrance apparently hasn’t gotten through to her. If anything, she looks like she’s toeing that impossibly thin line between mellow and frustrated, if the quirk in her lips or the pinch in her brow is anything to go by. Even from a distance, he can tell that her face is soft, that her lashes are beautifully long, and that she probably barely has to do anything with them. If it weren’t so weird, or showy, or even creepy, he’d probably stop in his tracks at the door and watch. Try to make up a song about her, for her, on the spot.

Luka takes a deep breath, readjusts his gig bag on his shoulder, and takes a few quiet steps up to the register, still keeping his distance. It isn’t until he clears his throat that she looks up, and he’d swear that he’s never seen eyes so… so blue, before.

He’s never played a song this color before, and he wants to. Instantly.

Before he can get a closer look at the sketches, one that would have been entirely inadvertent, the girl squeaks and snaps her book shut, immediately apologizing for not noticing him right away. Her fingers twitch a bit, but she smiles cordially in spite of them. There it is. That sunshine, just for him. “Welcome to Tom and Sabine’s. How can I help you?”

Luka wonders if that’s just her Customer Service Voice, or if she always sounds that sweet. Either way, somewhere inside him a cork pops, and warmth floods his insides, just for having heard it. Now that he’s this close, now that he’s really heard her, he’d think she’s only a couple of years younger than him. Nineteen or twenty, maybe. “Hi,” he says, as smooth as he can manage. Maybe it’s her first day; he knows some of the woes of customer service, even if most of his work experience has been in food delivery and not actually processing the orders. Maybe he can ease some of her nerves. “I was wondering if I could get something to go.”

“Oh! Sure thing.” The girl brushes some flyaway dark hair out of her eyes, twirls her pencil again, and taps a few colored squares on the tablet in front of her. “What can I get for you?”

“Let’s see…” He already knows the orders by heart, because in spite of their penchant for chaos and unpredictability, the Couffaines don’t mind anchoring themselves to some things. So much so, in fact, that if it were Mrs. Cheng at the register, she wouldn’t even have to ask. She’d already have the box ready. It’s just that he doesn’t want to overwhelm this girl right off the bat, even if he does have the feeling that she’d look even cuter with a blush. “An opera cake, a pear tart, a fraisier”—that’s for Rose, because he wouldn’t be surprised if she’s still over when he gets back. He goes slowly, gives the girl the chance to look for each item in the menu on her screen before punching it in, just in case she’s ever had customers who were less kind.

Yes, that’s definitely the only reason why, and it definitely isn’t because he wants to spend more time at the register, and has that liberty to do so since there aren’t any other customers in the shop and since he’s done with work for the day.

“Anything else?” the girl asks, her voice slightly more clipped now that she’s in the rhythm of it. She cocks her head, more at the register, and quirks the edge of her eyebrow. Maybe she’s more seasoned at this than he thought. Or maybe she just sinks into this mood when she sets to work.

He kind of likes it. Like, a lot.

But that would be incredibly weird to say, to her face or about her online, so he holds his tongue. “Yeah, um…” He looks around, narrowing his eyes at some of the display cases. “Has Mr. Dupain made any napoleons today?”

The girl’s eyes light up a bit, which makes him smile. “I’ll check,” she says—chirps, more like—and flits toward the room in the back like a hummingbird.

Oh, no.

She’s so cute. Too cute.

She’s back in seconds, before he has the time to agonize about it any further. “Yup, we have them. How many would you like?”

“Just the one.” Luka’s already fishing out his wallet from his back pocket. He holds his breath, card in hand, pushes it into the chip reader. “Say, is Mrs. Cheng… doing all right?”

The girl blinks a couple of times. Is it really that weird to ask? “Yes…? She’s fine. She’s just traveling—she went home for a bit to see her family. She’ll be back in… three weeks?” She trips on her words a bit, not in the way that she can’t recall, but in the way that she doesn’t want to be too forward in her speech.

Huh. Mrs. Cheng didn’t mention anything about a trip the last time he’d been here… “Sorry, it’s just that I’ve never seen you around here before.”

The girl smiles faintly, tearing away his receipt once it’s printed. “Well. I guess that makes two of us.”

Oh, she’s good. He doesn’t even know what to say to that.

She flits around the tiny bakery, different pairs of tongs in hand as she assembles his order, and Luka finds himself tapping out the melody of the current song against his thigh. “Nice music,” he says to make conversation. “You pick it out?”

“Uh huh.” There’s that clipped tone again. “Sorry, I know it’s kinda basic—”

“It’s cool.” He pauses. “Uh. I mean, the music is cool.”

The girl looks up from one of the display cases. It might be the lighting, or the distortion of the glass, but he thinks she might be blushing. “You… said that already?”

“Right—right.” Luka clears his throat, leans back against the wall with his arms folded, and resolves to keep his mouth shut and his eyes down. He knows he’s blushing; his face is too hot for him not to be. She’s working, he tells himself. He can’t bother her while she’s working. Still, he can’t help idly tapping the toe of his shoe, or pressing his fingertips into his arms, to that same rhythm, the same melody. At least that keeps him grounded. He only wishes there were lyrics he could mouth along to to make it easier.

He’s about to dip into his own mind, try to find a song that would do the trick, when he hears his name. “Luka?”

Instantly, his head snaps up. The girl is back at the register, a beige box with a gold sticker in her hands, and she holds it out to him. “Yeah,” he says, doing his best to stroll casually to the front and take it from her. “How’d you know my name?”

The girl looks at him, half-confused, before mutely holding up the receipt. On the bottom, along with the last four digits of his debit card number, is his name in tiny capital letters.

Oh. Duh. He heaves a nervous laugh, and on the inside, he’s looking away with wide, mortified eyes. He takes the box from her; the sooner he gets out of here, the sooner he can kick himself. “Thanks. Could you tell Mr. Dupain I said hi?” And also, could you tell him how dare you for hiring a girl who has no right making my heart stop on her first day working?

She nods, twirling her pencil one last time, and Luka’s off with a wave and a mutual exchange of, Thank you, have a nice day! And the instant the door closes behind him and he turns the corner, he sets the box aside, slides down to a squat, and rests his face in his hands, eyes wide and trained on the ground.

In Paris, no one knows that Luka Couffaine is even capable of being an anxious, smitten fool.

Once he’s churned out as many anxious, shaky feelings as he can—once he’s replayed her smile and the sound of his name in his head enough times—he pulls out his phone.

god, i hope she has a nice day. i hope she finds twenty euros on the ground.

Post.

[starryjealousy]

May I Have This Dance

Title: May I Have This Dance Fandom: Devil May Cry Pairing: Dante/female reader insert Rating: G Warnings: None Summary: You can’t dance. Dante doesn’t mind.

(Request fic for @dragonesszena.)

"What," you say with a soft laugh as you step into Dante's office, putting your hands on your hips and eyeing him with amusement, "are you doing?"

"Mm?" Dante turns his head to look over from where he's stood on a chair, a hammer in one hand and a few nails in the other, and a grin comes to his face when he sees you. "Ah, you know, little bit of this, little bit of that--" he shrugs, turns back to the wall, squinting critically as if he's trying to visualise the best way to finish his task before just shrugging again and setting another nail against the splintered paneling, driving it in with a few firm blows. "And a little bit of moving things around so demon carcasses aren't almost falling on my head every time someone slams the door, you know how it goes. Wasn't expecting you this early, though. Something up?"

"No, I just had some unexpected free time." You shrug a little yourself, taking a seat on the couch to watch him, your head tilting briefly as you realise the old jukebox is clicking and whirring in the corner, crackly notes floating through the air. (It's been a while since you've come in to music playing; it's proof that Dante must really be in a good mood, and that's something you're delighted to see.) "Which one is it this time? The Empusa? You really need to quit throwing darts at it, you're destroying its integrity. No wonder it keeps falling on you."

Dante feigns a pouty look, turns his head to pout at you like he can't believe you'd say such a thing to him, never mind the fact that his expression is full of clear amusement. "You wound me, ____. I am highly offended by your implications--" but he's laughing now, boots thumping noisily on the floor as he hops down off the chair, setting the hammer and nails aside on his desk for the moment. "Nah, you're right, makes a terrible dartboard. Too old and dried out. It's only fun when you can pop ‘em - vicious cleanup, though." Turning to eye the jukebox, he folds his arms, hums a thoughtful sound and moves to prod at it, cutting off the current song in mid-note and changing it to something more bouncy, full of jazzy strains that lilt through the air. "In any case, I'm about ready for a break - been putting new holes in the walls all morning. So," apparently satisfied with the song, he turns his attention back to you, "tell me something. How do you feel about dancing?"

"That's an awfully open-ended question," you say dryly, leaning back and letting your arms drape over the back of the couch, eyeing him with mock suspicion. "I don't care if other people do it around me, I have no weird religious hangups about it, and I swear I have two left feet so I don't do it, but if none of that is the answer you expected, you're gonna have to stop being cryptic and just tell me what you're getting at. I'm not a mind reader - and let's be honest, you probably wouldn't want me reading yours even if I was."

A snort of a laugh escapes Dante, never mind he's pretending to look offended again, taking a few steps closer and planting his hands on his hips. "Probably not," he says, and he looks pleased when you bite back a snorted laugh of your own, holding eye contact with you for just a moment longer than is strictly necessary, faintly smirking when you narrow your eyes just noticeably and let yourself settle into a purposely over-comfortable sprawl that is absolutely not one single bit intimidated. "Alright, lemme rephrase that. You ever danced with the devil? And if not," now it's definitely a smirk, and he sketches a bow, offering you his hand with a great sweeping flourish. "You want to?"

"I just told you I can't dance." You narrow your eyes more, stare at his hand like you're considering biting it, but he looks so unconsciously eager when you lift your head to make eye contact again that you can't keep up the aloof act, shaking your head and letting a small smile come to your lips, lifting your hand to place it delicately in his. "But I guess I can't refuse such a generous offer, can I?"

"Nope," he agrees, grinning now as he tugs you to your feet, pulling you close to him and settling his other hand on your waist, as easily and confidently as if it belongs there. "Don't you worry about a thing, babe. Just follow my lead, and you'll be fine."

"You and 'fine' are on entirely opposite ends of the dictionary--" you cut off with a squeak of indignant surprise when he's suddenly urging you into motion, never mind your clumsy stumbles and faltering feet, only his supportive hands keeping you from falling flat on your face. "I-I'm not kidding, you know! I really don't know what I'm doing, can't we start out slower - you're gonna make me sprain an ankle at this rate and then I'm gonna be pissed, I don't have all the magic woo-woo insta-healing powers you do - are you even listening to me?--"

"Course I'm listening." Dante smiles down at you, easy and sympathetic, giving your waist a little reassuring squeeze and pretending for your sake that he doesn't notice how you're blushing. "Look. You're making this harder than it has to be. You trust me, right?"

"You don't want me to answer that--" your hand tightens on his as you nearly trip again, mouth setting into an indignant pout. "If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't be letting you do this."

"That's all you need to do," he says, still smiling, bringing the both of you to a halt and just looking down at you for a moment. "Trust me. I'm not gonna let you get hurt. Just close your eyes and follow my lead - I promise, you'll be fine."

"I've heard that one before," you mutter, but after a moment, you take a slow, deep breath, try to will the tension out of your shoulders, and tightly close your eyes.

It's still awkward, even like this, and you're still desperately hoping you don't end up twisting or spraining something, but it is easier - not looking at what you're doing lets you focus more on what Dante's doing, lets you feel how he's guiding you to move, and while you're certain you'll never be more than perhaps vaguely passable at this, it's beginning to feel less arcane and more actually doable. (It helps that he's very easy to follow; you may not be skilled, or even capable, at dancing, but you do know a partner with a firm leading arm and easily comprehensible body language can take even the most subpar dance up a few notches, and he fits those requirements to a T.) Honestly, it's even beginning to approach something you might call genuinely fun by now, and you don't even realise you've started smiling until you hear him muffling an adoring chuckle, snapping you out of the half-trance you've settled into, your cheeks flaring brilliantly red when you open your eyes again and see him watching your face. "Stop staring at me," is the first thing you can manage to say, and it comes out a little sharper than maybe you would have liked, but his affectionate expression never falters and so you don't let yourself spiral into needless apology. "I swear you just like to embarrass me."

"Only cause you're so cute when you blush," Dante shrugs, lets his feet and yours come to a stop and lets go of your hand to reach up instead, tracing light fingers along the heated pink splashed across your cheeks. "Even cuter when you're enjoying yourself, though. Sure looked like you were having fun, even if you say you can't dance."

"I can't," you retort petulantly, but you're leaning your head into his touch, so any attempts at acting genuinely angry are not even close to successful. "Maybe I just like being close to you--" and the instant the words leave your mouth, you're going bright red all the way up your ears, not having meant to be quite so blatantly honest, but it's too late to take it back now and so you just turn your eyes away in mortification. Why does your traitor mouth always do this sort of thing at the worst moments, you wonder? "I, um - look, forget I said that."

He studies you for a moment, sympathetically amused, tightens his grip on your waist when you try to pull away and turns your face back towards his. "Hey, c'mon, that's nothing to be embarrassed about. All you had to do," he lets his hand drop from grasping your chin, settles it on your waist as well and pulls your body flush against his, "was say something, yeah? I'm sure as hell not gonna say no to such a tempting possibility." His chuckle, low and resonant, is more easily felt by your proximity to him than it is heard, and it makes you feel both hot and shivery in equal measure, sparking off a low burn of pleased curiosity along your every nerve. "So if that's what you really want..."

You swallow hard, nodding just a little, not quite trusting your voice but trying it anyway. "Yeah," you manage, and thank whatever deity might be watching over you, the words don't come out shaky. "Just - let's stay just like this for a little while...okay?"

"You got it," Dante agrees, quiet and affectionate, a hand coming up to rest gently against the back of your head as if to cradle you against him. "As long as you want."

Still blushing brilliantly, you press your cheek to his chest and close your eyes, just nodding again and letting the strong, steady pulse of his heartbeat beneath your ear soothe your jangled nerves, drowning out everything else around you.

Maybe if this is what it leads to, you think, you might just let him try to teach you to dance again sometime.

[johnmarstoned]

If requests are still open, can I request an ArthurxReader where she is independent, can hunt, cook, and kill and never really thought of being married or having a relationship because she has very little patience for people but somehow, Mr. Morgan changes that and she doesnt like it so she tries to fight it and of course, she loses and falls for him? Or something like that? But cuter? Lol please and thank you!

Oh god, I got so into this story to the point I want to make it like an extended thing, but I’ve kept it kind of short here (by my standards).

I put the reader outside the gang for a change on this one. ❤️

The first time we met I’d been having a cigarette on my little wood porch, looking out over my homestead at dusk and trying to figure out what direction I could hear gunfire coming from. Before I knew it, the fool was leaping my fence and stumbling through wet muck and bringing a whole heap of trouble with him.

He didn’t even see me until he got up on the porch, pressing his back up against the house, sweating something awful.

“I’m sorry ma’am I-”

“You’re going to get your goddamn head blown off if you don’t get off my property in five seconds.” I unholstered my pistol and aimed it at him, and he’d put up his hands.

“You from round these parts?” He was still panting for breath, looking round the house in the direction he’d run from. “You know them Lemoyne Raiders?”

That made me lower my gun.

“Not been round here long, but I’ve had dealings with them bastards. What you do to ‘em?”

“That’s a bit of a long story, be honest with you, all’s you need to know is, they’re after shootin’ me right now and my horse bucked me and ran off with my guns.”

“Hey! Son of a bitch ran over here!” A voice in the trees called, and that was my decision made.

“Well, if we’re shootin’ Lemoyne Raiders, you better go in and grab my rifle. You a good shot?”

“I’m not terrible, ma’am.” He’d looked surprised, but jumped into action.

Looking back, our first meeting being us standing side by side, fending off nine Lemoyne raiders with nothing more than my revolver and a rusty old rifle had been pretty fitting. It helped us get to know each other, in a way, seeing how the other was in action, seeing how we worked under pressure.

I knew he’d liked me from the off, he’s not the best of keeping his feelings off his face, and I’d seen that sparkle in his eye and that smile on the corner of his lips when I’d wiped off my brow and introduced myself.

“Arthur Morgan.” He’d said. “That was so damn fine shootin’ there, ma’am.” 

“I’m not married and I’m a little young to be a ‘ma’am,’ don’t ya think?”

“Apologies, Miss.” 

Next day, he’d brought me a supplies from town in thanks, given I lived a good way from Rhodes, and I’d not known quite what to say or how to take it.

I wasn’t used to men being well, thoughtful, to me - superficially charming, sure, nice, when they felt they needed to me - but actually, really thoughtful? Bringing me bread and tinned food so I didn’t have to make the trip? That was new.

Which is probably why my response, in hindsight, hadn’t been the most polite:

“I look helpless to you?” I’d asked after inviting him in, gesturing to the deer pelt hanging in my kitchen. “What you after?”

He’d seemed to struggle to respond to that.

“Not after anything, Miss, just thought… Just wanted to thank you. Not many folks’ll shoot a guy between the eyes for you upon first meetin’.”

I’d narrowed my eyes at him, tried to gauge if he was lying, but couldn’t see it there. He didn’t feel dangerous, like a big man in my house would usually feel. I didn’t feel like I was going to have to pull the knife off my boot and fight him off at any moment. 

So he’d stayed for dinner, (because I guess I’m polite enough to offer that at least), we’d talked, it had been… nice. Really nice.

The next time we saw each other was in Rhodes, in the Parlour House. It pained me to be around those inbred hicks, but I’d run low on stocks, and needed a stiff drink. I wasn’t sure why it made me feel the way it did when I spotted him come in - all broad shouldered and thick chested, smiling, making some joked to the gangly, bedraggled man he came in with. 

I threw back my whiskey. Because hell, I’d been attracted to men before, of course; I wanted them, had them, moved on. But I’d never had this, this fluttery, nervous feeling in my stomach that almost made me slip out the back before he saw me.

I didn’t, because I’m not a ‘slip out the back’ type of girl. I walked up to him, greeted him and his friends, asked him what he was doing round here and listened to him make up an answer that attempted to cover the fact that he was so obviously an outlaw.

We kissed that night, after he’d had a couple whiskeys of his own, round the back of the building with his hand on my back and mine in his hair.

Not long after that, he came across me in the woods, on the trail of a hog that would keep me in meat for weeks, and I’d been sure that once he’d seen me up to my elbows in blood and guts, he’d surely see I wasn’t the type of woman you went steady with and never turn up again. But he’d smiled at me then too, swiped my hair out of my face to kiss my lips and helped me get the beast up on my horse. 

Then, it had been a couple of weeks, and I’d become antsy and annoyed that he wasn’t knocking on my door again, and that’s when I began to realise what I was feeling, that this wasn’t just that I wanted him to come over and have me already - I wanted more than that.

When he did finally show up on my door, I kissed him before I said hello, I pulled him into my bedroom and took down my hair, I got him naked, because I needed to see if that body cut as attractive a picture without clothes as it did with (it did), and I did the same, and rode him until we were both pink-skinned, and sweating, and he’d mumbled, rough-voiced with pleasure:

“God, you’re the most beautiful thing I ever seen.” And I’d desperately bit my lip as not to tell him I loved him, like some kind of fool.

And he hadn’t left when he’d finished inside me either, he’d stayed, pulled me to his chest and kissed my hair, stayed all night, stayed for breakfast.

After that, it seemed like he was back every time he had a chance, and I was always so happy to see him that my heart would race as soon as I heard the hooves of his horse come up my path. 

Arthur told me about who he was, what he did for a living, who he worked with, and it made me happy to be trusted like that.

He took me to Saint Denis, once, made me giggle at how fancy everyone dressed and acted, bought me a prime rib and took me to a show.

I nearly said it then, too, ‘I love you.’ But I couldn’t, because I’m no fool to try and keep a man like that, to care if he might love me back and to think I might have to sacrifice any part of myself to have him.

Not like he’s asked me to, he tells me a lot, that he likes me just the way I am, that he likes me because I am the way that I am.

Now, we’re sitting by the water a little while away from Clemens Point, me on my belly, head resting on my hand while I watch the bluegill jump out the surface occasionally, and glancing at Arthur sitting cross legged in front of me, sketching in his journal, which he says he doesn’t usually like to do in front people. It’s all so sweet and soft, and I can’t believe how much I enjoy it.

“I love you, you know?” He says, and I look at him, and wouldn’t be sure he’d even said it if he wasn’t looking right at me. “Never thought I was the settlin’ down type, but I don’t know…” He runs his hand over his mouth and looks over the water, like he’s trying to find the words. “You make me think I might be.”

My throat feels uncomfortably dry all of a sudden, and my stomach flips over. I’m frozen. I’m not talking.

“I - you -” I swallow and can’t meet his eye. “Thank you, Arthur.”

He laughs dryly, and looks at me in slight disbelief. “Thank you?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say!” I say defensively and sit up, flushing red. “You’re talking about settling down and you love me but… I… We’re not those types, Arthur, I live alone for a reason, you know? I’m not easy to deal with.”

“Oh, I know that, trust me.” He’s still smiling at me in amusement, like this isn’t hard for him at all.

“Then, go profess your love to a proper lady in a skirt and perfume.” I say, like the idea of that wouldn’t absolutely kill me. “You’ve seen me in polite company.”

“Who you think your talkin’ to? Lord of the manor? Rich, proper gentleman who needs a good little housewife to keep her mouth shut and do as told?” He raises his eyebrows. “I don’t know what you see when you look in the mirror, but you are a goddamn wild dream come true, darlin’.”  

I get that feeling in my chest again, warm and thudding, because he’s looking at me like he loves me, not just talking to me like he does.  

“Wild is about right.” I chuckle breathlessly, shaking my head at him. He shuffles closer to me on the sand and picks my hand up from my lap.

“Too right it is. Wild and beautiful and everything a man could want.”

“Arthur…” I almost want him to stop, because I cannot stand blushing. “Since when do you talk like this? You been reading poems?”

“I guess I been spendin’ too much time with Trelawny.” He smiles at me and squeezes my hand. “But I don’t care if I sound like a fool, I ain’t got time to pretend any different. I’ve thought I was in love before but… weren’t nothin’ like this.”

I can see the truth of that on his face, and I can feel that urge to fight ebbing away. I can’t even remember why I’ve been fighting it.

“It’s okay if you don’t love me right now.” He says, quietly. “I just gotta know if you could.”

God, how can anybody not love this face? This man?

I swallow, and bring his hand up to my mouth, kiss his knuckles gently.

“I do love you, right now.” I say, and I can see him let out a little breath at the confession. “And I can see myself… With you… In a year, or twenty, or fifty. And that’s really, really scary for a girl that’s been on her own since she was a kid.”

“I know, sweetheart.” His hand reaches up and holds the side of my head, his thumb runs over my cheekbone and I’m so overwhelmed with emotion I feel I could cry. “But I ain’t goin’ anywhere, I’m here long as you’ll have me.”

I put my hand over his where it still rests on my face and let out a calmer breath. This feels right, it feels so right that I can’t believe it’s happening to me and I’m terrified it might get snatched away at any moment.

But he kisses me, and all that worry fades to a tiny voice that can shut up for now. Because I realise that it won’t be so bad, sharing my life with someone, so long as that someone is Arthur Morgan.  

[turbomun]

behold: the better Centi

once upon a time i was writing a fanfic about Centipeedle called Song Seekers (read it here if you’re into that sort of thing). I never finished it, but recently I’ve been thinking about how it would work in an AU where Centi got an actual fucking character arc instead of being relegated to the background all the time.

my second design of her (based on old concept sketches) is cuter than the final canon design so i hereby decree that in my AU she looks like this.

full backstory & info below:

Centi’s actual name is Nephrite, but she doesn’t go by her gem name for reasons that will soon become clear. In this AU, she began a gradual pattern of recovery after Steven’s attempt to heal her, where she would revert often but was slowly getting back to her original state — at least physically. Mentally, the corruption had lasting effects of hypersensitivity, difficulty understanding social cues, lack of coordination, and other stuff that yeah was basically autism come fight me I’m using autistic license. She also couldn’t draw her weapon or use her powers without seriously reverting. Anyway she got Steven to healing-spit her two crewmates after it became apparent that she really was getting better. They are also Nephrites, and Steven nicknamed them Neph and Frita. Centi is NOT loyal to the Diamonds; quite the contrary, she’s fucking pissed at the Diamonds for abandoning all the gems on Earth after corrupting them.

With Centi doing better, the Crystal Gems started a mission to investigate possible cures for healing corruption, and they invited her to come with them. She was fairly sure that she wouldn’t be of much use to them due to her lingering corruption and lack of fighting skills, but agreed anyway. The Gems hypothesized that there might be a song to reverse corruption, the same way as how a song induced corruption. However, they’d all barely gotten started before a commander gem and some Ruby foot soldiers started hounding them.

The commander gem turned out to be Centi’s old boss, Hessonite, who was following an intermittent signal from a tracker embedded in Centi’s suit (which only worked when her body was as close to whole as it could get, and didn’t emit anything when she was reverted). Centi eventually goes to talk to her while the Crystal Gems lay low and find out that Hessonite’s interested in how the hell Centi is suddenly uncorrupted (no I am not letting the fucking Diamonds off the hook in my AU). Hessonite wants to take Centi back and study her. Centi thinks maybe this could be a good opportunity to go undercover and find the corruption cure, and agrees on the condition that Hessonite heal Neph and Phrita. Hessonite’s like “oh you Nephrites, always so obsessed with your crew, how adorable” and agrees.

Hessonite takes the Centi Gang to a Homeworld base on Mars, with the CGs following close behind in the Rubies’ pod (this would be before Room for Ruby). The base is used by the Diamonds to study corruption. Hessonite explains that they have a special instrument (sort of ocarina-like in appearance) for playing a song that physically stabilizes corrupted gems, but mentally, they’re never 100% what they were before. She uses Neph and Phrita to demonstrate; at this point, Hessonite doesn’t realize that Centi is still corrupted, and Centi is doing her best to pretend not to be so as to keep up the charade of being “””””useful””””” to the Diamonds. The whole time, she’s secretly pissed as hell that Homeworld only bothered to come back for her because they could use her.

Once Neph and Phrita are stabilized, the CGs attempt to break in and steal the stabilizer instrument, but Centi accidentally reverts in front of Hessonite and tips her off that something’s wrong here. She catches the CGs and Centi attempts to hold her back, despite being in pretty bad fighting shape. Luckily, Steven gets ahold of the stabilizer, plays the song, and manages to stop Centi from reverting and enable her to draw her weapon. Suddenly she’s able to fight, and she does, while saying how she’s not the same Nephrite who was obedient to Homeworld, she’s not Nephrite at all, she’s Centi and she’s accepted the gem she’s become.

The CGs eventually overpower Hessonite and the Mars Base gems and escape, but in the struggle, two things happen: Centi gets poofed, and the stabilizer gets smashed in the chaos. Centi reforms in a new CG outfit. The CGs lament that they can’t heal any more corrupted gems right now, but at least they knew that healing is possible and that there’s hope for everyone in the bubble room.

By the time of the movie, Centi is living in Little Homeworld. Besides Steven, she’s friends with Amethyst and Peridot, but is reluctant to get to know other once-corrupted gems because she wasn’t healed the “proper” way and is self-conscious about her mental differences. She has a small ship of her own and uses it to give “local” (not long enough to need a Warp Pad) rides to various Little Homeworld residents.

I think that’s about it. Centi Deserved Better 2k19 Initiative

[standfortheangels]

♩: My muse [for all four of the babes please~!]

[’Musically Inspired’ Art Meme] Send a symbol and I’ll put my music playlists on shuffle and draw something incorporating the first song that plays.

(So, unfortunately because I give myself much bigger jobs than I ever need to, this prompt is one I realistically won’t get finished. So I’ll just share what I got done and run through it a little. At the very least, you’ll find out one song that’s on each of my muses’ playlists~ ^^)

(I definitely want to come back to all the unfinished ones later though)

1 - Mia’s song was Gimme Chocolate by BABYMETAL.

The heavy metal and the cute, happy sections sort of battling each other through the song made me think of what Mia’s new personality and memories will wind up being, compared to the war and darkness in her past that she’s forgotten.

So I drew her, singing along in her little happy cloud, surrounded by sweets and chocolate, with clues about her past hidden in the darkness behind.

I had plans to switch the art style to something cuter, but, that’s as far as this one went.

2 - Raph’s song was... Well, actually, it was Nate Sharp’s cover of Let It Go. >w>;

But, I decided to reshuffle. He would’ve killed me if I didn’t.

The new song was War of Change by Thousand Foot Krutch.It was a bit of a tricky one for me, but I got an idea together in the end.

I focused on Raph’s internal anger and restraint (”There’s a war going on inside of me” “It’s just about to break.. everything’s about to change” “I’m warning you, don’t try to get up”, etc.) and I wanted to show it through mirrors.

Two guys behind Raph are just being douchey, laughing at him for something, while he grits his teeth, clenches a fist in frustration, and deals with it. But in the mirror, his demon self is shown. He’s holding a knife, there’s a hostage in a closet in the background, and the mirror by the Douches shows one of them cowering over the bloody body of the other.

Raph holds back a LOT of violent thoughts and fights temptation practically every day, so it’s like a little glimpse into those.

3 - Chester’s song is one I’m sure you won’t see coming:

Harder Better Faster Stronger - Daft Punk

Now this is way out of the usual audio aesthetic I would go for for him, but for some reason this song always makes me think of Chester working on something. The way the order of the words jumps around reminds me a lot of how his brain tends to work. It’s all a little chaotic and then suddenly falls into place and works~

This one would have been my biggest project here. A montage basically, images switching in and out, all showing Chester taking over and working in a lab space in Heaven after the Angels have uh, ..gone. >w>

So things that are happening here:

-Boxes fading in to existence-Chester studying some plans-He clears a space at the back and starts erecting a frame for a big machine-Chester showing Cinder around as she helps to bring even more boxes in.-Curtain appears over one of those observation windows (he keeps seeing/imagining angels looking through at him when he’s working)-And then, more and more work on the machine~

4 - Mike’s Song was The Puppet Song by Tryhardninja. It’s the only one I finished, and I absolutely love it~

(Well, Okay, my background skills were not exactly peaking >w>)

This picture just shows Mike in one of his more contemplative, somber moments. Sometimes guiding people and being there just.. doesn’t feel like enough.

((I also really like drawing him on roof edges too apparently~))

I also made a few edits on my phone, just playing around one day, so here are some of the ones that came out well!

I hope these sketches weren’t disappointing. Like I said, I would love to come back to these someday and actually draw up some stuff properly. It was just a matter of cutting the workload down.

Hopefully there’s still something here you liked! Thanks @a-simple-rper for sending these prompts in!

[kellanved-ammanas]

Artistic Chapter Two of Four: Prefect Drawing

After that Scout made a point to hang out with Sniper more. He understood and knew about Scout’s broken heart and was willing to distract him from it. And well, he’d volunteered to find Scout and comfort him, which meant he liked Scout, right? They were good friends. He’d always been one of the better people on the team to talk to and hang out with anyway since he wasn’t busy doing stuff all the time and was always easy to find since while not in combat, he was more often than not in or around his campervan or at the shooting range, practicing. So, hanging out with him more was actually quite easy.

At some point, Scout wasn’t sure when, he got over Pauling. Not overnight or even in a week or two but still faster than he would’ve thought he would. He still found her attractive but in that way he could look at someone and say they’re hot without feeling any further attachment. And he still liked her just not like that. They could be friends or at least work acquaintances and he’d be happy with that.

He noticed this when upon sitting down to doodle his first thought of what to draw wasn’t Pauling but Sniper’s campervan instead – it was a bit beat up, giving it character, it’d be fun to draw. It was odd but… he wasn’t going to question it, getting over being rejected was a good thing. He’d been a fool for thinking that Pauling might ever go for a guy like him anyway. He was an idiot who couldn’t even read properly, no one as smart as her would ever be interested in someone as dumb as him like that regardless of their sexuality.

And now he’d gone and made himself sad again, great. The kind of sad that came with knowing he’d never find love, he was too stupid for anyone to ever be interested in him like that. That was fine though, he was done with this whole romance nonsense thing. He wasn’t going to fall for anyone like that ever again, it’d just end the same exact way as all his potential other romances had; heartbreak. So… everything was just fine, no more being upset, no more falling in love with people who couldn’t possibly feel the same way. He was going to draw Sniper’s van instead and maybe a kangaroo next to it with a desert background – Australia was mostly deserts, right? – and get on with his life.

-

The next day he brought his drawing to compare it to the real-life thing. It wasn’t exact, he’d missed a few dents and scratches but it was pretty close. He had nothing to compare the kangaroo he’d drawn next to it to since he’d only ever seen them in picture books before. It was cute though, that’s all that mattered and it wore Sniper’s hat, making it even cuter.

“What you got there mate?”

Scout looked up to see that Sniper was now standing in the doorway of his van. He still wore his pajamas and looked half asleep despite the fact that noon was no more than an hour away. But considering the fact that it was the weekend and they had off, he was up a bit earlier than usual. He was one of those crazy people who stayed up stupidly late at night and thus slept until halfway through the day.

“Nothing,” Scout said, folding up the paper and putting it back in his pocket. He didn’t like showing his team mates his drawings of them or their stuff because it felt weird to do most of the time. “Want to go for a run with me?”

“Ugh, no, I just woke up.” Sniper grimaced as if he couldn’t think of a worse thing to do in the ‘morning’.

“Suit yourself then mate,” Scout said with a chuckle, imitating Sniper’s accent. It was a poor imitation, though Sniper didn’t react to it this time. He was probably used to it by now, meaning Scout would have to find another way to bother him. “See you around.” He gave Sniper a wave before jogging off.

---

Scout frowned at the drawing on the paper. It was good but… it wasn’t quite right. Drawing a person in detail was always hard but it this like his sixth attempt in the last two weeks, it should be a bit better, right?

He flipped back to the first attempt, if anything it was better. It was a casual drawing of Sniper leaning back against his campervan, the look on his face similar to the one the real him wore when he was amused by a funny tale Scout had told him. But again, it didn’t really capture Sniper’s essence the way Scout wanted. … He’d have to use Sniper as model, that would help, there was nothing else to do.

Of course, he couldn’t outright ask Sniper to do that for that, that would be weird. So, he’d sketch him without Sniper knowing, which was also weird and maybe a bit creepy but wouldn’t require any awkward conversation unless he caught Scout doing it. He wouldn’t though because Scout knew the perfect time and place to do it; the shooting range.

On days they didn’t have combat, Sniper always spent a few hours at the shooting range, making sure his aim remained as close to perfect as was humanly possible. Scout often joined him there, especially lately, either to practice with him or just to chat – he also had always admired just how good Sniper was with his gun, it was fun to watch him practice with it. So him showing up and hanging around wouldn’t be viewed as suspicious… hopefully anyway.

And good news, tomorrow was a weekend, they had off. Meaning Scout could get his drawing done tomorrow and then he’d hopefully have his need for a as close to perfect as he could get drawing of Sniper fulfilled. Then maybe he could stop thinking about Sniper so much.

Why did he even need to do this? Or want to? … Nope, he was not going to ask those questions, asking questions led to answers and sometimes answers weren’t good things. He was just going to do whatever the fuck he felt like and right now that was drawing the perfect picture of Sniper. Or uh… tomorrow, he’d do that tomorrow, for now he was going to go out for a run and meet up with Sniper later for dinner and then hang out and play cards or something with him.

-

“Hey Snipes, how’s it going?” Scout said as he strolled into the shooting range. He carried his sketchbook casually at his side. He didn’t take it out of his room often and it was far too thick to easily conceal so he didn’t bother trying. All he could do was pretend it was no big deal and hope no one else gave it any special attention.

Sniper grunted in response, too focused on aiming down his sights to answer properly, before firing. That was fine though, his extreme focus was what Scout was counting on.

“Cool,” Scout said once the report of his gun had faded – they both wore ear protection. “I’m just going hang out and chill for a bit if that’s okay.”

“Hmm, ‘kay,” Sniper replied, already scooping in for his next shot.

Scout jumped up on a nearby crate, hanging his feet off the edge and facing Sniper. He opened his sketchbook to a clean page – it was near the back, he’d have to get a fresh book soon – and started drawing.

Sniper was a good model, so still and focused. Scout just had to be careful when he looked up at him to make it seem like nothing more than a causal glance.

“What are you drawing?” Sniper asked after a while, still speaking in that way he did when he was preoccupied with something else but still cared about the conversation.

“Just some stuff,” Scout said causally. He’d expected that question eventually so he was prepared for it.

“What sort of stuff?” Now that question Scout wasn’t prepared for. He was even less prepared for when Sniper lowered his gun to look at him, genuinely interested and curious.

“Um… uh…” Scout stammered, his face growing warm. “Your gun.” He had to cover up why he was embarrassed and why he was drawing here and not in his room like he normally did. And it was technically true, he’d just started sketching out the beginning shape of it. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Nah, it’s cool but uh… why?”

Scout would like to know the answer to the question too. “It looks cool and it’s something to do. So hurry up and go back to holding it straight so I can finish.”

Sniper shrugged and returned to his target practice. Good, that meant Scout could go back to drawing. Hopefully he wouldn’t ask to see the drawing when Scout was done with it.

It took more than an hour for Scout to finish his drawing. He was finally pleased with it too. He would’ve been more pleased with it if he’d been able to draw Sniper while he was at ease but he’d take what he could get.

Satisfied for the first time in what felt like a long time, he looked back up to admire the real thing again. Sniper was handsome and an all-around great guy. That’s why Scout wanted to draw him, he just liked Sniper a lot, nothing wrong with that. Except he liked Sniper a lot, a lot, like…

Holding back a groan, Scout almost literally face palmed. No way was he falling for Sniper like that, nuh-uh, no way, no how, it wasn’t happening. Except it already had, he’d somehow fallen head over heels in love with Sniper without even realizing it. Could anyone blame him though? Sniper was super cool, hot, and smart… and he was way out of Scout’s league. Just like every other person Scout had fallen for. If he had to fall for someone why couldn’t he fall for someone as dumb as he himself was so he wouldn’t have to go through this nonsense?

“Ah shit,” he said under his breath, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Something wrong?” Sniper asked, lowering his rifle to turn his head towards Scout.

“Nope.” Scout flipped his sketchbook closed and stood up. “I just remembered something I got to do.” He quickly left before Sniper could ask what it was.

He went straight to his room and tossed his sketchbook on his desk. He’d used too much force; it slid off, landing on the floor. Whatever he’d pick up later, his floor was already a mess anyway so who cared? He threw himself on the bed and pressed his face into his pillow to muffle a scream of frustration.

He was not going to play this game again. Sniper like everyone else he’d ever been interested in wasn’t into him the same way. There was no way he could be, he was smart while Scout dumb as a sack of bricks. He couldn’t even read properly for fuck’s sake, if Sniper knew that he probably wouldn’t even want be friends anymore.

Scout was sick and tired of letting himself get his hopes up and dancing around his feelings before finally building up enough courage to ask for a date only to be rejected and have his heart broken. He was not going to let it happen again. He’d get over these stupid feelings like he always did even if it meant he had to stop hanging out with Sniper.

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[catherinesnyder]

41 cute logos that are totally aww-some

You’re scrolling through Instagram and you pause to look at a new pic of your friend’s baby. You decide to run down the workday clock looking at gifs of baby elephants on Reddit. Why? Because they’re cute. And because you’re a human, you love cute things. Cute things—like babies—automatically jump to the front of our mental queues because this ensures their survival. But our sense of cuteness doesn’t just cover babies of our own species, or even just sentient beings. We love all things cute, whether that’s cute animals, cute drawings or even cute objects because they grab onto our brains and demand that we pay attention to them.

A cute logo instantly grabs your attention and makes you go ‘aww’. Logo design by 3AM3I.

So how do you get your logo to demand attention? Make it cute. Cute might be the norm for your field or you might be the first one to try it. Using a cute logo in an industry that typically doesn’t use cute logos can be a way to set yourself apart or to target a demographic that industry doesn’t usually target.

Keep in mind that you can take cute too far. In most industries, opting for a cute logo means giving up some of your position as an authority in your industry. Notable exceptions are industries that literally run on cute, like baby products. But if you’re going cute to advertise a line of office furniture or gardening items, there is absolutely such a thing as too cute. Recognizing too cute is a know-it-when-you-see-it kind of situation that happens when a cute image undermines the product it’s representing.

Take a look at these different ways to do cute logos. Cute can be somewhat subjective, but because our sense of cuteness is rooted in psychology, it’s not as purely subjective as our senses of what’s cool or what’s beautiful. You can use elements that trigger our cute senses to build a cute logo, and here’s a few ways to do it:

Cute n’ cuddly logos —

We all love cute animals. Otherwise, they wouldn’t make up most of the internet. As a species, there are few things we love as universally as other animals… especially baby animals. We love imagining what animals think about and giving them voices to speak their minds. If we didn’t, talking animal movies wouldn’t be some of the highest grossing films we create.

We love our pets. We love wild animals. We love animals so much that we created new ones to populate our folklore and inspire our imaginations. A cute animal logo is a great way to connect with pet owners or really, anyone, even if your product doesn’t directly have anything to do with animals. The Car Fox is one example of a product that has nothing to do with animals cementing itself in our minds with a cute animal mascot. Geico is another.

You really can’t go wrong with a cute animal logo, and if you’re marketing to pet owners, nature lovers or kids, it’s one way to guarantee you go right.

Personifying animals makes it easy for viewers to project emotions on them. What’s this cat feeling? Relaxed from a hot cup of tea? Energized by its coffee? Logo design contest entry by Spoon Lancer.

A cute animal logo will always be a hit with pet owners. Logo design for Exercise my Mutt by Cross the Lime.

Deliciously adorable logos —

You ever see something that’s so cute, you just wanna eat it up? Like a baby’s squishy thighs or a big-eyed baby bunny? You can thank your brain for that—research shows that the smell of a newborn triggers the same reward center in the brain as biting into a delicious piece of food. Cuteness is already intricately linked with chowing down in our brains, so capitalize on these crossed wires by choosing a cute logo for your food brand.

Keep in mind that cute probably won’t work for something you’re branding as high-end or artisan. When somebody’s shopping for caviar, they don’t want to see packaging with adorable baby fish looking back at them. Choose cute for sweets, snacks, inexpensive foods and anything aimed at kids because cute is fun and youthful, not established and authoritative.

And just like making animals cute, making food cute often involves giving it human characteristics. Logo for Cookiestomize by Nico Strike.

Cute cupcake logo design by Naomi Theresia

Nonthreateningly neoteenie-weeny logos —

In evolutionary biology, neoteny is the retention of juvenile traits into adulthood, like a proportionally larger head, shorter limbs, and larger eyes. Humans are attracted to animals with more juvenile traits, pushing them to protect and eventually, domesticate them.

This type of change doesn’t happen automatically. But millennia of humans picking out the cutest pups can change a species dramatically. Via ksta.de.

In design, neoteny refers to characters drawn with purposefully exaggerated, youthful features. Logos that make use of exaggeratedly cute “baby” characters are great choices for baby products, toys, products for little kids, and products aimed at parents-to-be and parents of babies and little kids. These characters are non-threatening and friendly. They’re the perfect ambassadors for connecting with new audiences, especially when you’re connecting across language barriers. Cute is cute, no matter what language you speak.

Over time, Mickey Mouse got cuter. This art evolution happened alongside his personality development, as he went from a mischievous character in early cartoon shorts to a family-friendly, wholesome figure. Via Tribe Tech magazine.

Even with certain adult characteristics like antlers and horns, these animals have oversized heads and eyes, two juvenile features that translate to “cute.” Logo for Moosey & Moo by Art and Pixels.

Kawaii logo design —

Cuteness as a concept, known as kawaii, is prominent in Japanese culture. It has its roots in the 1970s, when high school girls using mechanical pencils popularized a childlike handwriting style known as marui ji, or round writing, also known as koneko ji, or kitten writing. Now, kawaii is everywhere, even at dinner theaters.

Hello Kitty is kawaii. Many pokemon are kawaii. But what sets kawaii apart from Western interpretations of cuteness? Kawaii is simple. Although it’s deliberately childlike, kawaii aesthetics have found their way onto a wide, wide range of products and carved a special niche among adult women. Lots of different things can be kawaii, but everything that’s kawaii shares a few key characteristics:

Rounded edges

Minimal details

When kawaii means anthropomorphization—and it often does—it means big eyes

When you go kawaii, you go specific. You’re not just targeting an audience that’s drawn to cute things, you’re targeting an audience that’s drawn to things that are cute in a distinctly Japanese-inspired way. This can be an important distinction for you if you’re in the video games or comics field.

Kawaii eyes are big like western cute eyes, but often, they don’t have irises. Logo design contest entry by K Arts.

Fun-size logos —

One of the easiest ways to make something cute it to make it small. Yes, there’s more to cuteness than size, and as we mentioned above, shrinking something to cuteify it generally involves changing its proportions, but don’t underestimate how important size is to cuteness.

When somebody says “I want a cute car,” what kind of car comes to mind? Probably a Smart Car, a Mini Cooper or a Volkswagen Beetle, not a full-size SUV or a pickup truck. Now think of a cute house. You’re probably envisioning some kind of cottage or cabin, not a sprawling mansion with multiple wings. The fact is, humans love little things because little things are cute. They’re unintimidating. Compare regular golf to mini golf—one of them’s typically reserved for serious business types and real sports enthusiasts and the other one’s for families and teenagers on dates looking to drive fun-colored balls through clowns’ mouths and under rotating windmills. Little things are fun and make us feel like kids again. They make us feel safe and in control.

If you’re looking to capture cuteness without getting too big-eyed or babyish, try simply scaling down the elements in your logo. Playing around with scale can take it from cookie-cutter to cute enough to capture the audience you want to capture (in a cute net!)

This combination of two little kids sitting on a tiny moon is just adorable. Logo design by Mainstream Account

Calling all the cuties —

Cute kitten in a box. Logo design by John Baiatul.

There are a lot of things a cute logo can do for your brand. It can carve you a permanent spot in your core demographic’s heart or it can be a signal to new audiences outside your core demographic who might not otherwise notice your brand or know that there’s a place for them in your consumer base. How a cute logo works for you depends largely on the product it’s representing.

And sometimes, that means a cute logo won’t work. Maybe your business is about banking or law. Cute and the law can mix in an abstract, ironic cartoon way, but using a cute logo for your inheritance law firm might just make people uncomfortable. No matter how big the eyes you draw on your lawyer mascot are, there’s a chance it ends up looking forced.

Cute also doesn’t work when it crosses the line into cutesy. Cute makes an automatic connection, cutesy tries to force a connection by being overly sentimental. Think a nauseatingly, sickeningly sweet feeling like you just finished a cotton candy the size of your head, then translate that feeling to an image. That’s cutesy. Basically, if the cute is forced, it’s not cute. It’s cutesy.

When you’re not sure how a cute logo will work for you, sketch out some of your brand’s core values. If your aim is to make viewers comfortable with your product without taking it too seriously, cute is for you.

Want a cute logo that will make people go ‘awww’?

Our designers can create the perfect adorable brand mark for you.

Yes please!

The post 41 cute logos that are totally aww-some appeared first on 99designs.

via https://99designs.co.uk/blog/

41 cute logos that are totally aww-some syndicated from https://www.lilpackaging.com/

[iwroteinapastlife]

005:223:09:31:04

Finally, two days late, I bring my contribution to @thinkoutsidethelovesquare with a Soulmate AU that was supposed to be a drabble and just wouldn’t quit.

AO3 link here.

Enjoy! <3

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. Now, Nino, you may kiss the bride.”

Everyone cheers as the happy couple share their first kiss as a married couple. It’s barely even a kiss with how much Nino is smiling, but that makes it even cuter. Some of us weren’t sure if he would ever manage to drag Alya to the altar and just like everyone else, I’m clapping and smiling, happy that he finally did it. But unlike the others, I have another reason to be smiling. As I watch them walk back down the aisle, my mind travels back to the day it all began.

It’s the first day of school and five year old me is a nervous wreck. With my mother’s hand in my right and clutching a brand new sketchbook in my left, I walk with my head held as high I can handle into the room of fourteen other children. I try not to cry as my mother lets go of my hand and tells me to be brave. I’ve never been brave, she knows that. She says I’ll make lots of friends. That’s another thing I’ve never been good at.

I sit down in the circle with the other kids and distract myself by observing each of them in turn. The boy next to me is kind of big and scary, but a closer look at his grey eyes tells me that he’s kinder than he seems. The blonde boy next to him seems completely at ease, green eyes open and ready and I can’t help but feel envious of his confidence. He’s listening intently as a spikey-haired boy next to him excitedly tells him about something. From what I can hear, I think it’s about sports. Next to them is a girl who might be even more nervous than me, amber eyes downcast and long dark hair covering half her face. Maybe I can make friends with her. After her is a pink haired girl who could probably kill me with a single look from those daring blue eyes. She seems to be listening to the spikey haired boy talk about sports, but I think she’s trying to hide it. Next is a boy who seems completely oblivious to the outside world, clicking away on a calculator. Does he already know how to use that? He must be really smart. Next to him is a girl I can identify with. She has her blue eyes fixated down in her sketchbook so black hair keeps falling in her face no matter how many times she pushes it back behind her ears. He makes a mental note to ask her what she’s sketching later. Watching over her shoulder is an excited girl with reddish auburn hair and warm grey eyes. That would drive me insane; I hope she doesn’t do that to everyone. Next is a sweet looking girl with blonde hair and the biggest blue eyes I’ve ever seen.  I have no doubt that she’ll make friends with ease. She’s having what looks like a pleasant conversation with the girl next to her, another blonde with bright hazel eyes wearing a pink headband.  Next to her is a red headed girl who seems absolutely enthralled in whatever the blonde on the other side of her is saying. The blonde’s voice is kind of annoying and she’s just going on and on about a bunch of stuff she has. That must be the girl my mother told me about, the mayor’s daughter. Another girl with long brown hair and green eyes is on her other side, listening and chiming in occasionally with comments that seem to annoy the blonde. And last is the boy in the hat right next to me, listening to music on his headphones. I’m debating tapping on his shoulder and maybe asking what he’s listening to when the teacher comes in.

“Good morning class! Welcome to the first day of school! Can we all start by saying hi? Look around the room and wave hi to everyone.” I try not to look too nervous as I wave, but making direct eye contact with so many people is one of the worst things I’ve ever experienced. None of them seem too mean, though, so at least there’s that. “Very good, everyone! I’m Madame Bustier and I’ll be your teacher for the year. How about we go around the room and—,”

Everyone turns their head as the blonde rich girl gasps, staring down at her arm. “My time stopped!” There’s some rustling around the room as others check the time on their arms.

“Mine too!” one kid says.

“And mine!” yells another.

I nervously glance at my arm. The timer is covered right now by the sleeve of my shirt. It’s been counting since the day I was born, always telling me exactly how old I am, down to the second. My mother said that it’ll stop counting when something really special happens, but I have to be patient. She showed me that hers didn’t stop counting until she was 23 years old. I always thought that it would just keep ticking for a really long time, and I’m surprised that the mayor’s daughter’s already stopped. After all, nothing really special just happened, did it? All we did was say hi.

As even more kids around the room announce that their time has stopped, I pull back my sleeve.

               005:223:09:31:04

               5 years, 223 days, 9 hours, 31 minutes, and 4 seconds.

I wait for the 4 to turn into a 5 like it always does.

It doesn’t.

Thirteen. Thirteen kids out of the fifteen that were in that class had their time stop that day. All at the moment that the teacher had us say hi.

Back then I didn’t know why it was a big deal, but I quickly found out since it was the only thing the class talked about for days. I had heard the term soulmate before then, but never really knew what it meant. I still wasn’t really sure what it meant until my time had already been stopped for seven years and Marinette was looking at me with those sparkling blue eyes.

We had been teamed up for an art project and I had finally gotten to know the twin tailed girl I had been interested in from day one. And wow, she was amazing. I had always admired her looks. When I had eventually gotten into drawing people, she had been one of the classmates I drew most often. Not because I had a crush on her or anything like that (yet), but because I just thought her features were very objectively pleasing.

But watching her tell me about fashion and seeing her so animated and bubbly, smiling with her whole heart…I was lost. That was when I knew that Marinette was my soulmate.

I want to tell her. I’m smiling and nodding as she shows me some of her sketches and all I can think is that I’m going to spend the rest of my life with her. That the rest of the thirteen can cross us off their lists because it’s me and Marinette, happily ever after.

But as I open my mouth to speak, my tongue is suddenly dry. I’m a stuttering mess as I try to so much as speak her name. She’s looking at me with those beautiful blue eyes, patient as ever, and I can’t even say it.

So we do the art project and move on, and I’m angry at myself. And I’m drawing her every day and I’m dreaming about her at night, and I’m pacing around my room, just trying to figure out how to tell her, and I…can’t.

I’m going to tell her today, I tell my 15-year-old self. I’ve spent weeks trying to make the perfect portrait of her and I’ve finally settled on the one that gets the closest to her beauty. It’s her birthday today and I’m determined. I’m going to give it to her and tell her that I like her and that I want to date her because I think she’s my soulmate. I can do it. I can do it.

The bell rings. I take the portrait out and stand up, about to walk to the front of the room where she’s getting ready to leave.

Chloé beats me to her.

“Don’t think that you’re special, just because he gave you a present.” Marinette looks up at the bully with wide eyes while Alya glares, already sensing danger.

“W-What?”

“Adrien is just too nice not to give you a present. You aren’t special, he gives me birthday presents too.”

Marinette’s expression falls and her best friend steps forward.

“What is wrong with you, Chloé? It’s her birthday for crying out loud, can’t you give her a break for just one day?” The blonde looks at her nails with disinterest.

“I just don’t want it going to her head. He probably did it out of pity because he knows about her silly crush on him.”

I don’t hear the rest of the conversation, even if it does happen at elevated volumes, because in that moment my heart sinks. One glance at Marinette confirms the bully’s words and I’m devastated. I cry as I fall asleep that night and I wonder if I’m wrong. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe she’s meant to be with Adrien.

But the next day she greets me with a smile and I know I’m not wrong. She has a crush on Adrien, and I can’t blame her; he’s like the human embodiment of the sun. But that doesn’t mean her feelings won’t change. They will. Because I’m looking at the rest of the thirteen and I know that it isn’t them. It’s Marinette.

I give her the portrait and the joy it brings her is enough to have me smiling for days. Then she hugs me and I feel like I can fly. I think about telling her right then and there. I’m finally not stuttering around her, after all. But just because I know right now doesn’t mean she does. She still has a crush on Adrien, so I need to be patient. But that’s okay. I can wait as long as it takes. Even if that’s ten more years.

We’re finishing school and about to head our separate ways and the past three years have only made me more and more sure as time went on. Myléne and Ivan started dating fairly early on, and no one was surprised when Juleka and Rose announced that they were a couple (most of us thought they already had been for years), and Nino and Alya became official about a year ago. The list was dwindling and I still couldn’t take my eyes off Marinette.

But now I’m feeling like I’m out of time. I had been an idiot and assumed that she would always be around, that I could always wait another day before telling her, because we were soulmates and we can’t possibly say goodbye forever.

Then I found out she was going to study fashion in America.

Suddenly it’s the last day of school and my heart is racing and I don’t know how to tell her. Because we all know she’s still head over heels for Adrien and even if I know she’s wrong, she doesn’t. But why would she have a reason to think otherwise if I’ve never told her how I feel?

I’m an idiot!

And I have to tell her. I have to tell her now.

So I pick up my yearbook, ready to use it as an excuse, and I head toward the front of the room. And she greets me with a smile and asks if she can sign my yearbook before I have a chance to say anything. And my hand is shaking as I pass it to her and she hands me hers in return and my palm is sweaty as I try to remember how to use a pen. I consider confessing to her in her yearbook, but I know that would be stupid. So I write down a heartfelt note about how great she is and how I know she’s going to be famous one day, and I tell her to keep in touch just like everyone else does but I hope she’ll really do it. And I hand it back to her and she smiles at me and the words are on the tip of my tongue and I’m going to do it, I’m going to say it.

I open my mouth.

“Marinette, will you sign my yearbook?” someone asks.

And I can’t do it.

We’re two years out of school when Rose shows up at my studio and asks me on a date. Needless to say, I’m confused. We were all 100% sure she was Juleka’s soulmate.

“I found Juleka too soon,” she says. “We weren’t supposed to meet so early in life. We’re supposed to experience the world first, and learn who we are and what we want and then we’re supposed to meet our soulmates and form lasting bonds with them. But Juleka and I…we just ended up together because we knew all along and I… I never got to explore my attraction to guys.”

“So you two are on a break?”

“I guess, sort of. Or we might be broken up. I guess it sort of depends on how dating guys goes.” I watch as she stares down at the cup of tea I had given her. She studies the surface of the liquid with troubled eyes and her fingers nervously trace the rim of the mug.

“Rose.” The way her head snaps up, as if she’d forgotten I was there, confirms exactly what I’m thinking. “As honored as I am that I was your first choice of guys to date, I have to ask. Are you sure you want to go on a date?” Her frown was answer enough.

I spend the rest of the day with her, just talking and drinking tea there in the studio. She tells me about her relationship with Juleka and the way she blushes and smiles when she talks about her is enough to erase whatever doubt I might have ever had about them. I understand her desire to give guys a try before committing for the rest of her life, but even she knows it’s going to be Juleka at the end of it all.

She asks about me and for the first time in my life, I confess that I had been crushing on Marinette for years. Rose is bubbly and supportive just like she always is, but I can see the doubt behind her eyes. I ask for her honesty.

“It’s just…she’s so head over heels for Adrien.”

I sigh. “I know. That’s why I never said anything back in school.”

“Have you considered anyone else?”

I shrug. “I’ve glanced at the others, but nothing seems right.” Rose is pensive and there’s some silence as we both sip at our tea.

“What about Chloé?”

I nearly spit out my tea. She can’t possibly be serious. But I look up and there isn’t even the slight semblance of a smile on Rose’s face.

“You’re joking.”

“She’s not that bad, you know. Have you seen her at all since leaving school?”

“No, and I don’t plan to. She was awful.”

“I’ll admit, she could be kind of mean sometimes.” I smile as I take another sip of tea. Classic Rose, unable to say anything bad about even the worst of people. “But she’s come a long way since then. I bumped into her the other day while getting coffee and she stopped and sat down with me.”

“Rose, I’m sure you’re right and she isn’t actually evil incarnate. But even still, she and I are such opposites. I can’t imagine ever getting along with her.”

Rose rolls her eyes at me. “Fine. What about Adrien?”

My back straightens up in surprise. “Adrien?”

“Yeah. You’re into guys, right?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“Do you not think he’s cute?”

“Are you kidding? He’s literally a model.”

“And he’s super sweet.”

“That’s true…”

“Of course, the rest of the class is pretty convinced he’s Marinette’s soulmate, but hey, someone’s crush has to be wrong in this situation.”

“I guess I’ve been so busy considering him my competition that I hadn’t considered it.”

Rose smiles and lifts the cup to her lips. “Consider it.”

It’s a few months later and everyone is in the same room again for Ivan and Myléne’s wedding. They were steady this whole time, but everyone is still talking about how this means they are officially off the list.

I watch Adrien smiling and laughing across the room as he talks to Nino and I realize that I really should consider it. That’s what leads me to ask him to dance.

We laugh and stumble about the dance floor. Neither of us knows how to dance with another guy, since we were both taught how to lead. Eventually I say that I’ll follow and we settle into a nice rhythm. We talk about life and how things have been going since school. Adrien tells me that he’s working on getting a degree in physics while still keeping up his modeling career and I tell him that I’ve been working out of my own private studio for a while now. He asks if I still make comics and I can’t believe he still remembers.

“I still make them sometimes in my free time if inspiration strikes, but I’ve never been too good at the story part of it. I would need to work with a writer if I really wanted to get something going there.”

“That’s too bad. I bet you would make the best comics.” I blush at the compliment and laugh nervously.

“T-Thanks, but I’m not that good…”

“Nath.” I brought my eyes back to his again at the sudden seriousness in his tone. “You’re an amazing artist.”

I can only blink as my cheeks no doubt start to resemble my hair. “I, uh, u-um, t-thank you.”

Adrien looks away and smiles and I wonder if I’m imagining the slight dusting of blush on his cheeks. “I was always really envious of your art in school. I considered asking you to teach me how to draw a few times, but I was too nervous.”

“You were too nervous to talk to me?”

“Yeah…” his smile grows and now I’m positive I’m not imagining the blush. He even stutters a little bit as he speaks and I can’t believe it’s even possible for Adrien Agreste to get like this. “I-I kind of had a crush on you.”

My feet carry on dancing, but for at least five seconds, my mind goes completely blank. It’s as if I blacked out, but the mere glass of champagne I had definitely wouldn’t be enough for that. “Y-You did?” finally stumbles out of my mouth as thoughts start moving again.

He laughs nervously and I can’t believe how cute he is. “Yeah. I kind of still do actually.”

Adrien Agreste is blushing and nervous in front of me telling me that he likes me and the inside of my brain is just a chorus of screaming. Now I know why Rose wanted me to consider it.

“I-I—but you’re—and I’m—but—what?”

He’s still smiling, but now he looks nervous about my reaction. “Are you… Is that…okay?”

I swallow nervously, not sure if I can speak properly right now. Suddenly I’m very aware that we’re surrounded by people and it’s warm and kind of stuffy. “Want to step outside with me?”

He barely has a chance to say yes before I’m taking his hand and speed walking out to the balcony. Thankfully, there’s no one else out there and the air is clear and warm and my brain already feels a million times clearer after just one breath.

“Okay, so let me get this straight. You, Adrien Agreste, famous model, have a crush on me.

“Yes?”

“You.”

“Yes.”

“Like me?”

“Yep.”

“You??”

He laughs. “Nath, what is this about?”

“You’re literally a model! I’m sorry, I’m just having a hard time believing this.”

“Being a model means I can’t have crushes?”

“Not on me! I’m just…me.”

He looks at me and I know I’m blushing because wow, no one has ever looked at me like that. “Nathanaël, you’re not just anyone.”

Wow, that’s so cliché. And I’m falling for it anyway.

“So… So what does this mean?” I eventually ask. “Do you want to…date me?”

That’s when Adrien’s expression falters. He looks out at the sunset longingly and I can’t help but think how picturesque the moment is. “That’s the thing. I can’t really date anyone with my modeling career going on. My father would kill me, and even aside from that, it’s just too much drama. That’s part of why I never told you before. I just couldn’t help myself tonight,” he says as he looks at me again, quite clearly checking out my entire body, “You look so cute.” I wondered if the purple collared shirt and black vest looked as good as I thought it did. It must if it had Adrien Agreste confessing to me. “So, I can’t exactly date. Or at least, not in public…”

I blush and try not to show how much the idea of a secret relationship turns me on.

And then I say something that surprises us both.

“What are you doing tonight?”

We’ve been dating in secret for a few months when we’re both lying in bed staring at the ceiling, completely quiet and lost in our own thoughts. I’m pretty sure we’re both thinking about the same thing, but neither of us knows how to start. Eventually Adrien rolls onto his side so he’s facing me.

“Hey, Nath?” I roll onto my side to face him too. He looks so nervous, but for some reason, I’m not. It all feels so natural and clear and somehow, I feel completely calm. “I… I don’t really know how to say this. I-I really like you, and these past few months have been great, a-and…”

He trails off and I take his hand in mine, giving it a loving squeeze, and I speak the words we both know are true. “We’re not soulmates.”

He sighs and he looks so sad and I just wish I could erase that emotion from his capability. I reach out and brush some of his beautiful, soft, golden hair behind his ear.

“I really like you,” he says. I smile.

“I really like you.”

“But it’s just not right.”

“We’re just not meant to be.”

He looks like he might cry. I wonder when the urge will hit me. I’m sure it will once I’m alone, but right now it’s so far from me I wonder if I’m in some sort of denial. I try to cheer him up as I continue to comb my fingers through his hair. “This doesn’t have to be sad, Adrien. So we’re not soulmates. That’s okay. That means that we’re both going to find something that’s even better than this. And this…is pretty great. We don’t have to remember it as anything less.” He smiles through the pain.

“I don’t want to keep wondering who it is,” he eventually says. I laugh.

“Me neither.”

“Any ideas?”

I sigh and roll onto my back again. I take up his hand again though, not quite ready to let it go. “I dunno, man. You?”

“I guess I could actually take up Chloé on one of her endless offers.”

“Ew,” slips out of my mouth before I can stop it. He playfully slaps me.

“Stop it, she’s not that bad.”

“Rose said that too, but I’m yet to be convinced.”

“Have you talked to her since school ended?”

“No.”

“Well that’s why.” I turn my head to look at him. He’s staring up at the ceiling again.

“Would you really date her?”

He sighs. “I don’t know. She decided I was her soulmate on day one for no other reason than because we were both rich and it made sense. Our moms became friends, so we started seeing each other outside of school and I was able to really be friends with her, but… I don’t know. It’s just hard to consider after spending so long rebuffing her advances.” He chuckled. “Maybe you should date Chloé.”

I smack him with a pillow and he laughs and I wish he was my soulmate so I could share moments like this with him forever. “Rose said that too. What is with you two?”

His laughter trickles out as he speaks again. “I don’t know, I can kind of see it. She really isn’t what you think. She was handed everything her whole life, so going to school and dealing with people that weren’t just going to give her whatever she wanted was pretty new to her. Obviously she didn’t deal with it very well. But she’s never been a horrible person underneath, and she’s learned a lot after entering the business world.”

“Business?”

“Yeah, you didn’t know? She’s studying business and plans to inherit the hotel from her father.”

“Huh, well that’s cool. I’m still not interested in her though. She once said that she likes pineapple on pizza.” Adrien laughs again and my heart aches with how much I want to love him.

“Fair enough,” he says. “What about Alix?”

“I mean, maybe? She’s ace though, and as you’ve seen, sex is pretty important for me.” Adrien chuckles at that.

“That’s certainly true. It’d be a shame for your body to go to waste anyway.” At that he grins and winks and somehow he still has me blushing.

“Which means you shouldn’t date Alix either,” I shoot back. I won’t try to wink. We both know I’m terrible at it. He laughs.

“We all know she’s going to end up with Kim anyway. Well. We all, except Kim.”

“Don’t forget Max,” I add.

“Do you think Max and Alix are also soulmates? Or is it just Kim and Max and Alix and Kim?”

“I don’t really know. They definitely get along well, but I’m not sure there’s any romance there. Should ask next time we see them.”

“Well,” Adrien interjects, “this is all assuming they’re Kim’s soulmates.”

“Oh don’t worry, Max knows that already and I wouldn’t be surprised if Alix did too.”

“He does? But doesn’t Kim still think it’s Chloé?”

I laugh as I answer him. “Yeah, you should watch Max’s face whenever Kim mentions it. The guy is patient, I’ll give him that.”

Adrien chuckles. “Imagine that. Knowing who your soulmate is and having to wait for them to realize it.” I have to tell myself not to mention Marinette. It’s not like I wouldn’t tell Adrien about my crush on her. It’s that telling him would also involve outing her crush on him, and that’s something I won’t do to her. I’m not sure I want to start thinking about her again yet anyway. Having her out of my mind for the last few months has been really nice and I’m not ready to let it go yet. “Meanwhile I’m over here wishing it were my boyfriend,” he continues, tone suddenly somber. Somehow we’re facing each other again and he’s looking at me with those gorgeous green eyes that are sparkling so bright in the aftermath of so many emotions.

I scoot forward and kiss him, letting myself enjoy the feeling of his lips gliding against mine. In that moment, I don’t care if we aren’t soulmates. I’ve loved every moment I’ve spent with him. I’ve loved every kiss, every touch, every everything.

He kisses me back, pressing his lips against mind and opening his mouth just enough to slip his tongue through. His hand connects with my waist and he draws me to him, leaning forward until I’m on my back underneath him. “Is this okay?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. “Even if we’re not soulmates?”

I hook my arms around his neck and look into his pretty green eyes. “I’m okay with it if you are.”

And then he kisses me and it’s so sweet but so so bitter.

Juleka and Rose are one of the most aesthetically pleasing couples to exist as they stand at the altar in their personalized white dresses. Juleka’s is elegant and perfectly suited for her with beautifully patterned lace stretching across her shoulders, a simple form fitting shape, and a long train trailing behind her. Rose’s, on the other hand, looks like a summer dress with no straps and a skirt that cuts off mid-calf and flutters every time she moves. They look absolutely stunning and I decide right then and there that I want to paint a portrait of this moment and send it to them as an additional wedding gift.

A few years have passed since their brief time apart (they had gotten back together less than a week after my “date” with Rose), and now two more are “officially off the list” as Alya puts it. She and Nino are going on five years, but when asked she still acts as if anyone could be her soulmate. Nino just rolls his eyes and pulls her into a kiss. We all know they’re off the list, even if she’ll never “officially” admit it.

Marinette smiles when she sees me from across the reception hall. We haven’t seen each other since she got back from America. She leaves again in a few weeks to start her final year of school, and while in the past we’ve always managed to have lunch or something whenever she’s back, we’ve both just been so busy that we haven’t been able to this time.

She walks up and hugs me and I know I’m not over her. I may not be a blushing mess around her anymore, but she’s still so beautiful and talented and smart and just overall amazing and wow, I really think she’s my soulmate.

“A rare sighting of the elusive Nathanaël Kurtzberg!” she remarks with a smile. “I’m so glad to see you!”

“Me? You’re the one who disappears to another continent for nine months every year.”

She giggles. “You got me there. Want to dance with me?”

“Sure!” I say, and I have to remind myself that Marinette is a social butterfly. She acts like this with everyone and always wears that infectious smile and I can’t let it get to my head. She may be my soulmate, but I’m done trying to tell her for now. It would be useless to start something and then have her leave again.

Marinette and I fall into a rhythm dancing and she strikes up a conversation by asking what I’ve been up to. I tell her about my studio and how I may not be making a fortune but I’m still making plenty and I’m loving what I do. I ask her about school and she says it’s tough but a lot of fun. She says she’s learned so much about designing and about the business of fashion and she can’t wait to officially enter the fashion world in a year. She’s already got an internship lined up with Gabriel when she graduates and she couldn’t be more excited. I tell her I would expect no less than an internship at one of the best and most selective fashion lines from her. She’s truly such a talented person and I know she’s going to go far with her designs. She giggles and thanks me, then starts picking my brain about the commissions I’ve had going lately.

Speaking with Marinette just flows so smoothly I can hardly believe I’m half of the conversation. With anyone else there are lulls and pauses and awkward instances of talking over each other or talking about the weather because it’s so impossible to think of anything else to say. But with Marinette everything is just so natural. I wonder if she’s like this with everyone or if it’s just me. I want to believe it’s just me and take it as another sign that we’re soulmates, but I’m pretty sure I know better. She’s just one of those people. One of those people who just manage to get along with everyone—kind of like Rose, but without the blind optimism. She’s just so sweet and supportive and perfect that it’s absolutely impossible to hate her. The only person I’d ever heard of hating her was Chloé and that was just because she was jealous. It might have even been because Chloé herself had a crush on Marinette. I wouldn’t be surprised. Looking at her beautiful smiling face I can’t imagine a person who wouldn’t fall for her.

At the end of the night, Marinette and I part ways again and I still haven’t told her, but I’m okay with that. I tell myself that I’m waiting until next summer when she’s back for good. Once she’s officially back in France, that’s when I’ll tell her.

The Gabriel internship sends her to America since she’s already familiar with it. I keep in touch with her of course, but I can’t tell her.

Twenty years have passed since the day that thirteen kids’ time stopped and two of them are finally getting married. As everyone gathers before the ceremony, I keep an eye out for Marinette.

“The wedding marks my official move back to France!” she had announced a month prior. After interning with Gabriel in America for years, Marinette finally managed to break out into the fashion world and she’s going to be working alongside (rather than underneath) Gabriel now, in Paris.

Which means Marinette is officially back in France tonight and I am determined to tell her. A familiar head of pink hair catches my attention and I smile and wave as Alix approaches with Max and Kim following behind.

“What’s up, Nath, long time no see!” she says as she hugs me.

“And whose fault is that, Star Skater Kubdel?” She grins and scratches the back of her head, only a little bit modest. Last he heard, she was having companies grovel at her feet begging to sponsor her.

“Nathanaël!” Kim exclaims as he catches up. “Dude, I’ve got great news! I’m going to the Summer Olympics running for France!”

“Wow!” I respond, breathless. I can’t believe I actually know and went to school with a real life Olympian. Of course, knowing Kim I really should have expected that.

“There’s some more news too, Kim,” Alix says, rolling her eyes.

“Hi Nathanaël,” Max says as he walks up and hugs me.

“Oh yeah,” Kim says, “And Alix got sponsored by Gatorade!”

She smiles and rubs her arm. “Well yeah, but that’s not what I was talking about.”

“Oh! And Max signed a contract to work on the next Ultimate Mecha Strike game!”

“That’s true too, but I don’t think that’s what she’s talking about either.”

Kim pauses and looks back and forth between the two of them for a moment. They both look at him with an eyebrow raised and I’m pretty sure I know what the news is before even he does.

“OH!” he finally exclaims. He grins from ear to ear as he throws an arm around each of them. “And we’re dating!!”

I smile as I’m pulled into a group hug. “That’s so great, you guys! I was wondering how long it would take.”

Alix gives me a confused look as I pull away. “What, you mean you knew?”

“Yeah, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Max says, pushing up his glasses. “It was easy to calculate after Juleka and Rose were announced since the chances of Kim being with us by random chance increased from—,”

“Wait wait wait,” Kim interrupts. “You’ve known since the JuleRose wedding?”

“Actually, I was talking about when they became a couple back in school.”

“You’ve known that long and you didn’t tell us??” Alix asks, bewildered.

“I assumed that you knew,” he says to her. “And he was too hung up on Chloé.”

“It’s true, I was clueless. Couldn’t see that I had everything I needed right here.” He pulls them both toward him and the two smile bashfully. “So when are you going to make it official with Chloé, man?”

I blink at him. Isn’t there anyone who doesn’t think it’s her?

“I… Uh…”

“Nathanaël has to wait because his current chances of rejection are high since Chloé still believes her soulmate is Adrien,” Max chimes in. He’s obviously wrong in his reasoning, but I’m glad to have the excuse anyway. I won’t have to keep having this argument after tonight anyway. Because I’m finally going to tell Marinette and it’s going to be perfect.

I was already determined, but learning about Kim, Max, and Alix strengthens my resolve. The list is officially down to four and I’m more certain than ever that Marinette is my soulmate.

I’m going to tell her.

After the ceremony, the reception hall is alive with energy and loud music. Alya managed to convince Nino not to DJ his own damn wedding, but he still insisted that it be an awesome party, and he was not disappointed. I laugh to myself as I take a sip of champagne and watch the happy couple go wild on the dance floor. Alya is laughing at Nino’s dorky dancing and pretending she’s embarrassed by him. I smile even wider as Adrien jumps in and joins Nino in looking like an idiot even though I know he can dance better than that.

So I guess he’s with Chloé then. He doesn’t talk about his dating life whenever we get together these days, but Chloé comes up in conversation every once in a while and he’s always telling me about how great she is. Even though I don’t talk to her directly, I now know a lot about her life nowadays, like how she’s had a lot of success in business and how the hotel is stressing her out but she loves it nonetheless. Hell, I even know about the bad meeting she had with the linens supplier last week. After hearing it so much, I can only accept now that she really is a good person and I’m even starting to think about reaching out to her soon to maybe be friends or something. She’s the only person of the thirteen that I don’t talk to, and it just feels kind of wrong.

I hope she makes Adrien happy. I’m sure she will. They wouldn’t be soulmates otherwise. But I can’t help but be wary. And that beautiful man deserves nothing less than the best.

Across the room I spot Marinette having an animated conversation with Kim. Suddenly she’s smiling even brighter and she leaps forward to give him a hug. I can only assume that he told her about the relationship. Unless of course she got that happy over the Olympics announcement. It’s always possible—that is amazing news—but I’m pretty sure a reaction like that would have come from former. I drink the last of my champagne as Kim gets dragged away by his partners to go dance. Now’s my chance.

I’m going to tell her.

Marinette greets me warmly as I approach her, smiling and pulling me into a hug. “Nath, it’s so great to see you!”

“Hey, Marinette! You look great!” I mean it. Her bridesmaid dress is a lovely sheer pink that perfectly complements her figure.

“Thank you, I made it myself,” she says with a sly smile. I had had my suspicions.

“Did you make Alya’s dress too? She looks spectacular.”

“You really think so?” she says with a smile, turning to look at her best friend. She’s managed to pull Nino into a slow dance for the moment and the two are smiling like idiots at each other. “Gabriel and I designed it together.”

My eyes go wide and I stare at her in absolute bewilderment. “Alya is wearing a Gabriel/Marinette original? Didn’t that cost a fortune?”

She smiles at me. “It’s Adrien’s wedding gift to them. The only catch is that their wedding pictures have to be featured in a Gabriel ad, but they didn’t seem to mind.”

“Wow, Marinette, that’s…incredible. You’re incredible.” She blushes and smiles, rubbing her arm nervously as her dazzling blue eyes fixate on her shoes. I take a deep breath. I’m not scared. This is the moment. “Marinette.” She looks up at me with curious eyes, noting the change in my tone. “I think you’re my soulmate.”

The moment the words are out of my mouth I feel the weight of twenty years of silence lift from my shoulders. I am suddenly as light as a feather, I feel like I can dance on the wind…for about two seconds. Because that is how long it takes for her expression to betray everything. Two seconds is all it takes for me to know what she’s about to say.

“Nath…” She glances around nervously and I’m not sure I can feel my heart beating anymore. It must be since I’m still standing there staring at her, but if someone were to ask, I would tell them that my soul had completely vacated my body. I vaguely register Marinette taking my arm and leading me away from earshot of the other wedding guests. “We’ve been keeping it under wraps because of publicity, but—,”

“You’re with Adrien.” She squeezes her lips together in a genuine look of sorrow. She feels bad. Bad for me. Because she’s rejecting me? Or maybe because of what this means for me. Because if she isn’t my soulmate, and Adrien isn’t my soulmate, then…

Nope, I was wrong. Now my soul has left my body.

“Nath, I-I’m sorry, I would have told you sooner, it’s just that with the press always on him, and me trying to make a name for myself in the fashion world…”

I muster up a smile for her. It isn’t fake, really. Sure, I don’t exactly feel like smiling, but that doesn’t mean I’m not happy for her. And him. A designer and a model. A match made in Heaven, really. And besides, everyone had known she’s had a crush on him for years, including me. I was just the only one who refused to believe it was meant to be even when it was clear to everyone else.

Well, almost everyone.

“It’s okay, Marinette. I completely understand. And don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” I pause, then add, “And congratulations.” And I mean it. I really do. Because like I said earlier, Adrien deserves nothing less than the best. And so does Marinette for that matter.

She smiles gratefully, but I can see the pity in her eyes. I had spent over a decade memorizing every little feature of that face so that I could draw it a million times, and now the sight of it is breaking my heart.

I hug her and tell her that she’d better make Adrien happy, and that makes her giggle. Then I walk away, and I wonder if I should leave. I’m not really in a celebratory mood. Should I say bye to Adrien first? Come to think of it, I didn’t say hi to him yet. I didn’t get a chance to.

Why didn’t he tell me about him and Marinette?

I slow to a stop as I see Adrien up ahead talking to Chloé. She has short hair now and it’s an even better look on her than the long hair was. She smiles at him, but I can see her heart breaking.

Suddenly I understand why I know about her linens meeting.

Adrien hasn’t been telling me all these details about Chloé because he loves her. He’s been telling me about her because he wants me to love her.

Adrien walks away and Chloé sits down and puts her head in her hands. I briefly wonder if she’s crying, but if I know anything about Chloé Bourgeois, it’s that she would never cry in public.

I’m not thinking about what I’m doing anymore. Instead, I just let whatever happens happen.

I approach her table and hold out a hand. “Would you like to dance?”

Chloé picks up her head and looks at me in surprise. Then understanding dawns and she just looks at me with a bitter sort of sorrow.

“Nathanaël,” she begins, and I’m not sure I’ve ever heard her say my name in a non-insulting manner, “Be honest. Would you even spare me a second glance if you didn’t know?”

“Would you?” She looks down at the floor and I drop my hand. Maybe I should walk away. Maybe we’re not ready for this yet. Maybe we’ll never be ready for it.

Never ready to be soulmates.

“This is so fucked up,” I mutter, pushing my fingers through my hair. The comment was mostly to myself, but she shakes with a small huff of laughter.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“It’s not supposed to happen like this,” I say, taking the empty seat next to her. “We got stuck in some freak circumstance with our class and it completely screwed up the way this is supposed to work! You’re not supposed to meet your soulmate along with twelve other people when you’re five years old. It’s supposed to happen when you’re older and ready, and you bump into each other on the street as random strangers and your time stops and you look at them and you think—,” I look at her then, and she looks at me. She really is a gorgeous woman, with perfectly smooth blonde hair and bright blue eyes that shine like the sky on a clear summer day. She’s looking at me, awaiting my words, and I can’t stop admiring her lightly tanned skin and her flawless cheekbones. I remember my words and suddenly they feel more genuine, “—wow. This beautiful person is my soulmate, and I get to spend the rest of my life falling in love with them.”

Her gaze holds mind for a few more seconds before I look away, unable to handle such a level of intimate eye contact with her right now. “But we didn’t get that. We got a class full of possibilities and rejections and confusion. And now…here we are.” She looks away and I follow her gaze to see Adrien and Marinette on the dance floor, smiling and looking absolutely perfect together. “This is obviously far from ideal, but I do want to at least be friends with you. We have to start somewhere.”

We sit there for a few minutes and just watch everyone dance. The entire thirteen are there, except us. Ivan and Myléne are looking at each other as lovingly as they did back in school and I smile because I’m glad they haven’t lost even an ounce of their warmth. Rose and Juleka are laughing as Kim bursts into their dance and Alix and Max attempt to contain him. Alya and Nino watch the others, whispering in each other’s ears and laughing to themselves. And Marinette and Adrien…look like the definition of perfection.

Finally, Chloé stands up, and I wonder if she’s leaving. She runs her hands down her dress—an elegant, deep blue, form fitting gown that looks amazing on her—to smooth out any wrinkles, and then turns to me, offering me her hand. “Well? Are we going to dance or what?”

I smile and take her hand and as she leads me to the dance floor I feel a little less sad.

After all, this isn’t the end. This is the beginning.

Two years later, Chloé is my date to Adrien and Marinette’s wedding.

A year after that, she’s my wife.

[lozbotwstuff-blog]

Is it okay if you do a scenario about Revali hanging out with his crush, but they end up doing something so adorable that he can't help himself but hugging him and nuzzling his beak into their neck (something he has been holding back to do) please and thank you

I made them an artist because what’s cuter than someone painting a picture of you. Also, this ran a bit long lol, but now I need sleep, because I have classes tomorrow and ew-ness. - the coolest mod, mod q

(Name) was something, to say the least. An artist, a mess, and many, many other things. He had met them when they had ventured to Rito Village and asked if they could paint Vah Medoh, of all things. Of course, he had permitted it, and didn’t mind watching them paint, considering he had nothing else to do. They weren’t the best, but they weren’t bad either. He could tell they were still trying to figure out their own style. After that day, they often came around again, taking advantage of the sights that the vantage points had to offer when they painted.

Sometimes, they asked Revali to help them get somewhere, and he would happily oblige. How could he not? They were sweet, polite, and kind, someone he didn’t mind spending his time with at all. He couldn’t deny them when they gave him that pleading little look, something he couldn’t resist. For them, he was weak. Very, very weak, and he hated to admit it to anyone, even himself. Besides, he adored the look they got on their face when they showed him a finished painting, and it took all the restraint he had not to hug them half the time.

Today, they had asked for Revali to take them to Vah Medoh. When he had at first denied them, saying it was dangerous for someone who could not fly if they fell (Goddess help his poor soul if they did), they assured him they would be careful. And then they gave him those damn eyes, and he was putty in their hands. That didn’t stop him from grumbling the whole time he flew them up, making sure they had on their warmest clothing before he did so.

They had set themselves in an odd place, where they wouldn’t be able to see much of the scenery because they weren’t very close to the edge to see past it.

“Why there? You can’t see anything interesting enough to paint. Wasn’t that the whole point of this venture?” he asked dryly, eyeing them as they retrieved some of their paints.

“Oh, I see plenty of interesting things to paint. Don’t worry, Revali,” they said, before picking up some of their charcoal and getting to work on their sketch.

While they painted, he held an idle conversation with them like he usually did, adjusting his bow and making sure it was in prime condition. It always was. Then he inspected his armor, making sure no complications would arise. Nothing wouldn’t, as always. He then decided to count his arrows and make sure he had an adequate amount, even though he had the same amount as he always did when he left his home.

“Done!” they called to him, and he looked up curiously. This painting had taken them some time, he observed, particularly long. Standing up and walking over, he peered over their shoulder to find himself staring back. More specifically, a painting of him adjusting his bow. He wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference between that and a picture taken with a Sheikah Slate, except for parts where the paint had dripped slightly.

“Do you like it?” they asked, looking at him with starry eyes.

“Who couldn’t like such a handsome Rito?” he said, gesturing to the painting and then himself, before nodding, “Yes, of course I do, (Name)!”

“Good, because I want you to have it, Revali. As a token of thanks for helping me so much, it’s very appreciated,” they said, smiling with a warmth no one could naturally give off so high up on Vah Medoh.

“Now that won’t do. You want something to remember me by when you travel, don’t you?” he teased, to which they shook their head.

“Maybe, but I plan on setting up base camp in Rito Village, your race is so gifted in the arts, after all. And, my best friend is here, which is you, Revali,” they said, gesturing in the direction they knew Rito Village was, just out of view under the edge of Vah Medoh’s wing.

With that revelation, he hugged them, because he was so damn happy he would be able to see them a lot more. At first, they were surprised, since he never displayed that much physical affection to many people, but eventually they hugged back.

It was only a few moments later that they whispered, “There was a lot of wet paint on my apron.” To which he promptly dropped them and gasped at his smeared armor, but mostly at what he had just done. Laughing on the ground, (Name) looked up at him with bright eyes and a perfect smile, “I like you too, Revali.”

[wonderfulchaos69-blog]

Title: A Ghost of a Rose Fandom: Servamp Characters: Sakuya, Mahiru Summary: The best remedy is often a poison, tempered and tamed. Notes: I wanted to give writing Hanahaki disease a whirl, but a little differently from how I usually read it. And that resulted in this. Something completely cheesy. 

In Spring, flowers begin to blossom and small buds begin to form anew. Growing and growing, until color once more filled the void. It should have been a beautiful sight to behold. Something that everyone could look forward to after the freezing depths of winter that had set in and shook them to the bone. A way to shake off the frost and brighten the days ahead. And most were, expect for one young man who felt he couldn't breathe every time he looked at his best friend.

His chest felt weighed down, heavy with something he couldn't describe. He wouldn't have known how to put it until words, until he noticed that he had developed a cough - and with the cough came its own set of worries, for he had never before seen someone spew petals from their lips. Let alone from loving someone too much, to the point flowers grew within their lungs.

He had seen many ways in which humans died, but he had never seen an infection of this sort. The likes of which didn't bother him, for he was already immortal. It was the discomfort, and the way pale pink and rotting petals crumpled and fell with each cough that made him uneasy. He would often look over and wonder if Mahiru would notice, if the flowers would have meant anything to him. To ask that, though, would be too much.

So in silence he suffered, as the flowers took root and grew bigger with each day spent at his best friend’s side. He grew tired faster, and he stopped eating. Both human food and food that was truly fit for him, because he couldn't stomach it. His throat too sore, his heart too barren, and his mind too full of an impending demise.

There was one person he knew that could help him make sense of such a thing, but in the end, asking was too much trouble. He would rather suffer alone than spread that which made him suffer in the first place. He was too used to spewing pretty words, and now he had pretty flowers to accompany them. Fragile and loving as they were, always there to remind him that he had found something that would not lead anywhere. For what hope did anyone have of being loved when they were a liar, of being loved when they hated who they were?

Thus, he suffered. Each breath harder to take in.

"Sakuya." But each time he heard his name, it was a little easier somehow. Fresh air to his starving lungs.

"Yeah, Mahiru?" He didn't look up from his desk, continuing to doodle on his test paper. A good grade stared back at him, when he didn't eve try. The classroom was empty, of that he could tell. It was the two of them, alone, and what a treat that would usually be - but at the moment, it made his chest ache. "Did you need something?"

"Are you okay?" Said with such genuine care, Sakuya didn't have a choice but to raise his head, his hand paused over the silly fox he had been drawing. "You don't look so good ..." Sheepishly, Mahiru rubbed at the back of his neck, a nervous smile blooming on his face. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Choking back a laugh, Sakuya lowered his eyes back to the paper, finishing up his sketch of the fox with its mad grin. "No, no. No worries! I'm fine. I promise. Everything is A~okay!" He made a joke of it, brandishing his completed art for all to see. "Look, look, Mahiru! Isn't it cute?"

For a moment too long, Mahiru studied him and seemed not about to accept that answer. Then, with a sigh, he agreed, "Yeah, it's pretty cute." Tensing up a heartbeat later, Mahiru continued on with an urgency to his voice that Sakuya hadn't heard in a long time, "But you're cuter."

The paper fluttered to the ground and Sakuya simply stared, mouth agape and his throat constricted for an entirely different reason. "You're ... kidding?" That seemed too easy, too invalid. Was that meant to cheer him up? How cruel.

Pink tinted Mahiru's cheeks, the same as that of the petals, and he shook his head, saying, "No. I ... I like you, Sakuya. Please, let me help you."

Covering his eyes with his hands, Sakuya gave a laugh and shook his head in return. "You already are," he admitted, the flowers in his chest bursting into full bloom, only to fade away and welcome with it something warm. Something that could stay. "You already are."

"Oh?" Confused, Mahiru asked, "How?"

"Hey Mahiru, do you like the movies?" When he received a shrug and a tilted head in response, Sakuya told him, "We should go on a first date. There's never a wrong time for a first date. Yeah?"

Blushing fully, Mahiru turned his head away, admitting, "I'd like that. But are you going to tell me what's bothering you, if we do?"

"Hmmm," grinning much like the mad fox he had doodled on the paper, Sakuya said, "Maybe? Or maybe not. All depends on how that first date goes!"

"Now that's bribery," scolded Mahiru, "but okay, fine. Let's make it one you won't soon forget, how about that?"

If only it could last as easily as that, as easily as saying the words and making it so. But for now, Sakuya would enjoy the ease of the blossoms in his chest, the remedy of having his feelings returned, and perhaps in time it would become a permanent cure that could withstand the test of time.