#AND WROTE HELMET INSTEAD OOP

[xiaoluclair]

max: [pulling off his balaclava after a race]

charles: mamma mia

pierre: here we go again

[ladytauria]

okay to balance it out

fluff 27) “why the hell is there glitter everywhere?”

picturing JayTim maybe Tim tried to be sexy and spice/romantic and tried to decorate himself or the bedroom? and messed up

i love this sm <3

it took me a couple days to get the writing juices flowing, but once they did i managed to get this out in an afternoon xD

ofc, my internet went out right as i was finishing it up. luckily i wrote it on mobile. signal may not be the best here but i can still get it posted :D

read it on AO3

“Why the hell is there glitter everywhere?”

Shit. Tim was hoping to have it all cleaned up by now.

“Long story, don’t ask,” Tim calls, smoothing a comforter over the freshly made bed. He thinks he’s gotten most of it out of the bedroom—that and the en suite were the worst areas, but the living room took a pretty big hit as well.

“Okay, but you know I gotta ask, baby bird,” Jason says, appearing in their doorway. He’s lost his boots and gloves, but he’s still wearing his jacket and his hair is still mussed from his helmet.

Tim pouts at him, but it’s hard to feign irritation when there’s a smile tugging at Jason’s lips; eyes crinkling in the corners. He’s unfairly cute.

“Don’t give me that,” Jason says with a laugh, crossing the room to pull Tim against his chest. “Bed looks nice. Hurricane sparkles hit here too, huh?”

Tim can hardly help melting against him. He’s always so unfairly warm. (Jason says the same thing about him. ‘Then again, princess, if you’d eat more, maybe you’d have something to hold it in—‘) “I don’t want to talk about it. I’m still traumatized.”

Jason snickers. “Traumatized, huh?”

“Mhm.” Tim twists in his arms, pressing their chests together and winding his arms around Jason’s neck. He plays with the strands there. “Be a good boyfriend and comfort me.”

That gets him another laugh—each one makes a little more warmth pool in Tim’s chest. Jason kisses him softly, sweetly; turning that pool into an ocean. Tim sighs into it, a little weak in the knees despite how brief it ends up being. Jason just has that effect on him.

He brushes their noses together. “C’mon, pretty bird,” Jason murmurs. “I’m gonna die of curiosity.”

Tim heaves a sigh far more put-upon than he actually feels, and kisses the corner of his mouth. “Well, we can’t have that. I just got used to you.”

Jason’s brows raise; a grin on his face. “Only just? It’s been over a year, babe.”

Tim shrugs. “I’m very resistant to change,” he says. “But you wanted to know about the glitter.”

“Please.”

“Alright. It’s Steph’s fault.”

Jason snorts.

“No, really!” Tim says, doing his best not to grin himself. “You remember when she and I went clubbing, right?”

“Three nights ago, yeah.”

“Right. Well. At one of them, there was a lot of body glitter. Like—a lot. And—I dunno. It was kinda hot? Which was unfair. I mean, I don’t look that good when I wear it. Which I told Steph, and she said she doubted you’d agree with that. And I kept thinking about it. I mean. It sounded kind of fun, to dress up like that. Different, definitely.

“Except, uh. Things did not go as planned, and I made a big mess instead. Oops?”

Jason doesn’t laugh like Tim thought he would. Instead his head tilts, almost thoughtfully. “You know,” he says. “I’ve got pretty steady hands.”

Tim takes a second to process. “I— Are you offering to apply it for me?” His mouth is suddenly dry, imagining himself under those strong, talented, and yes, steady, hands as they paint patterns of glitter on his skin.

Jason’s hands curl around his hips, thumbs stroking the sharp points of them. “We’re going to be finding glitter for months anyway,” he says, voice dropping, the deep baritone rumbling through his bones. “Might as well get some fun out of it.”

Tim shivers. “Have I ever told you you’re brilliant?” he asks, tightening his grip on Jason’s shoulders and feeling him tense in preparation. He jumps; legs locking around his waist while Jason’s hands grip his ass.

“Mm—not recently.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Tim promises, and kisses the place where his jaw meets his ear, relishing the soft noise that gets him. “Glitter’s in the bathroom.”

He’d buy Steph a thank-you card later. A very sparkly one.

[autisticlancemcclain]

Mr. Snuggles

Keith/Lance (Voltron), Hunk & Lance (Voltron), Pidge & Lance (Voltron), Fluff and Humour, 1.5k Words

Summary:

Lance had always had a soft spot for things that were outcasted. 

---

Keith shares an amused grin with Pidge when Lance’s humming fills the comms. Lance never remembers to mute himself when he was stationed somewhere, and he was physically incapable of staying entirely silent for long periods of time, so these stakeout missions were always filled with Lance’s singing. Sometimes, he talks to himself, making little jokes or skits that were always hilarious to hear. Right now, it sounded like he was humming a strange mashup of Uptown Girl and Party Rock Anthem, which was amusing on its own. Lance had an interesting brain.

“Everybody just have a good UPTOWN GIRL! She’s been living in — oh, aren’t you the cutest spider I’ve ever seen!”

Hunk’s sharp inhale over the comms reflected Keith’s own panic — Lance had a hard time remembering that some animals were dangerous, and should not be interacted with. Hunk has tiredly explained (dozens of times) that this is something that Lance has been doing his whole life — Hunk still gets nightmares from the time Lance just gently grabbed a fucking tarantula hawk wasp out of the fucking sky and started pointing out its features. Imagining it makes Keith a little green, and he doesn’t really have much of a problem with bugs. He can’t imagine how Hunk handled that particular situation.

“Aw, aren’t you sweet! Oh, hey, you’re not a spider — you have a separated thorax! What are you?”

The faint sound of their in-armour scanner went off, and all listening paladins sigh in relief. At least this way Lance will find out if the damn thing’s venomous and stay the fuck away.

“You’re a… sil-ti-fal-o-cus tel-o-fay?” Keith imagines the squinty face Lance makes when he is struggling to pronounce a foreign word, and smiles. Lance is adorable, that much Keith could admit in his head.

“Adorable, huh?” Pidge teases, winking at him. Keith scowls, going a little pink. Maybe not so much in his head, then. Oops.

“Oh, wow! That’s not a thorax, it’s a venom sac!” Lance laughs delightedly, and Keith and Pidge share another panicked look.

“Please don’t touch the fucking death spider, Lance,” Hunk whispers, knowing damn well it’s futile and Lance can’t hear him. Not that it would matter, anyway. Lance doesn’t really listen to anyone (except, shockingly, Coran, but Coran was just as much of a tree-hugging explorer as Lance, so that’s a bust).

“You know,” Lance continues, “Coran did say this armour is supposed to hold out against chemical attacks. And venom is a chemical. If there was ever a time to test it…”

“I’m going to kill him,” Hunk says, faux-casual. He turns his video on, showing how he’s smiling in the way that tells you he is actually very angry. “If this spider doesn’t poison him to death, I am going to stab him.”

“I don’t blame you,” Pidge says breathlessly, as she hacks through Lance’s helmet so they can see through his visor.

It takes a moment for the video feed to pop up, but everyone gasps sharply when it does. Instead of a tarantula-sized bug, like everyone was expecting, Lance is holding his hand out and making kissy noises at a spider the size of a fucking cat.

“C’mere, buddy! I won’t hurt ya. I don’t think you’re an aggressive beast who attacks on sight, and whoever wrote that in your file is probably a creep who can’t respect your boundaries and tried to scoop you up or something. Isn’t that right, buddy?” Lance is using the baby voice people often associate with, you know, babies. Or puppies. Things that are cute, not scary murderous poison bugs!

Keith realises he’s holding his breath when his eyes start to spot, and he quickly releases and tries to force himself to breathe normally. If this stupid fucking stakeout mission wasn’t so important, he’d send Hunk to go get his dumbass right hand immediately.

To Keith’s horror, the spider starts to listen to Lance, and advances closer. Lance makes a noise of absolute elation, and his flapping hands are briefly visible before he goes completely still in an effort to be more inviting for, and Keith can’t emphasize this enough, the deadly fucking venomous giant spider.

“Why can’t he be interested in plants, or something?” Pidge says weakly.

“Oh, he is,” Hunk assures darkly. “He’s just only interested in plants he feels are snuffed by others. You know. Plants that can kill you. He has oleander and water hemlock growing in his room back home, because he feels bad that no one else likes them.”

Keith can’t quite help his smile. Yes, Lance is ridiculous. But he’s just so cute. He’s a sweetheart. He just has so much love for everything and anyone — it’s no wonder that Keith fell for him. He’s always had a soft spot for the kind ones.

The spider finally crawls into Lance’s lap and he giggles, and despite everyone’s stress, the sound makes everyone’s lips quirk up.

“You are the sweetest, most adorablest, most wonderful spider in the universe,” Lance coos, scritching the spider under its chin.

In between it’s humongous fangs, Jesus Christ.

“I cannot wait to snitch on Lance and show this to Shiro and Allura,” Pidge comments. “I hope he gets in so much trouble.”

“You know he just has to throw out the puppy dog eyes and he will not even get a slap on the wrist.”

“…Yeah, that’s true.”

The three of them watch, speechless, as the spider seems to nuzzle into Lance.

“What species did he say it was?” Keith asks, bewildered.

“Way ahead of you,” Pidge says, searching through Lance’s scan history. “Holy shit, Lance scans a lot of things every mission. Like, thousands in the past month alone,” she mutters. “Aha! This thing is called a siltifalocus telofay, and of course it’s one of this planet’s apex predators. Because why wouldn’t it be?”

“Are they… usually this cuddly?”

“No, this thing says they usually attack on sight by spraying venom because they feed on fear.”

“Oh. Cool. Lance is canoodling a literal demon spider.”

“I mean, in his defense —”

“No, Keith, he gets no defense! I lose ten years every time he does this! I am seriously going to collapse one day!” Hunk interjects.

“In his defense,” Keith insists, looking pointedly at Hunk, “if the thing didn’t attack him on sight, then it probably doesn’t plan on doing so. He’s probably safe.”

Hunk frowns, but doesn’t argue any further. The three of them turn their attention back to Lance, catching the tail end of his one-sided conversation with the demon spider.

“— and I don’t think anyone on the ship is arachnophobic, so you should be fine, Mr. Snuggles! And your file says you feed on fear, so maybe you can even be trained to attack people! Oh, Keith will love that. Keith is our leader! He’s super cool and intimidating, but don’t let that fool you. He’s a softie, promise. He’s the tall buff one with long hair, you’ll know him when you see him.” Lance lowers his voice, whispering conspiratorially. “He’s the hot one, but don’t tell him I said that.”  

There’s a pause as the paladins absorb this information.

“Does he thinks he’s bringing that fucking thing in the castle?” demands Hunk.

“Did he name the demon spider Mr. Snuggles?” questions Pidge.

“Did he call me hot?” asks Keith.

Shiro’s voice comes from behind them, fond but exasperated. “I think that’s a yes for all three,” he says. Keith and Pidge whip around, and Hunk (still on the comms) looks his way.

“Did you get the guy? Is the mission over? Can we come back?” Hunk asks. 

Shiro nods. “Yeah, he ended up trying to escape through the South end, so Allura and I got him. He’s in cryo until we can ship him to Kolivan for questioning. Hopefully he has some good information.” Hunk is contacting Lance before the words are even out of Shiro’s mouth. Everyone watches the video as he answers.

“Hey Hunky-bear!” he chirps. “What’s up?”

“The mission is over, Lance, Shiro and Allura got the guy on the South end,” Hunk says carefully. “You and I can head back to the Castle now.”

On screen, Lance carefully sets down the demon spider, standing up. “Sounds good!” he says. “I’ll see you on the ship.” He hangs up before Hunk can say anything further (namely: “Lance, you are not bringing the fucking demon spider home.”)

He turns to the spider, patting his thighs and inclining his head towards Blue. “Okay, Mr. Snuggles. I read your file. You feed on fear, and there’s plenty of that where I’m going. In fact, I think you can be an asset! You haven’t hurt me, even though your file says you’re normally aggressive. All these are good things and indicate to me that you should come along with me to the castle. However. I have been lectured ad nauseam by Shiro and Allura about bringing strays home, and I don’t want to go through that again. But,” Keith can hear the grin in his voice, “they never said anything about stowaways! So I am going to board Blue, my lovely and amazing lion, and if you happen to follow me and I happen to not see you, well. Can’t help fate, can we, Mr. Snuggles?”

And with that, Lance strides over to Blue. Shiro sighs again.

“Well, at least I know he hears me when I lecture him.”

Mr. Snuggles does, in the end, turn out to be a wonderful asset. Turns out Zarkon’s soldiers are terrified of the damn thing, and they didn’t even need to send their prisoner to Kolivan. He spilled every base secret he had the second he saw the creature, and Mr. Snuggles enjoyed the terror radiating off the soldier immensely. 

Man, fuck. Convincing Lance to leave strays behind was never going to happen, at this point. The castle is going to become a goddamn zoo.

part two (the tarantula hawk wasp incident)

[power-of-plot]

Iida, Mirio, and Aizawa dating hcs please

Of course! But holy cow apparently this seriously inspired me, i hope this is ok xd

I I D A

Oh yes robot boi. Iida is someone nerdy in every aspect, his language even with close friends like Midoriya is very formal and polite, the same rule would apply when it comes to his significant other. Unlike what some would think, this doesn’t give your conversations a cold touch, on the contrary, it’d make him look chivalrous.

He’s a classic gentleman, he’d be the kind who opens the door and waits for you to walk in first or gives you his jacket when it’s too cold and you don’t have anything to cover yourself with, the second one would happen often in the classroom if you’re sensitive to cold. We are talking about U.A have you seen the measures of the classrooms and the entire area? It’s impossible they don’t have those huge air conditioners.

He highly respects the rules wich means, no PDA, on a certain level, no kisses to be specific. That doesn’t mean he won’t give you any affection, though every gear of his robotic soul is having a bad time working properly inside, he’d hold your hand or put his over your shoulder pulling you close when you’re sitting together. 

He definitely would do that thing of caressing you with his thumb. As you expected it from Tenya, this is a sort of robotic motion, his finger would move like a metronome but that doesn’t make it any less nicer, he is slow and gentle.

Honestly, he’d be nervous most of the time. ALSO! Tenya is very thoughtful, he’d ask (often verbally) if you’re okay with whatever he’d do, as times goes by the questions turn non verbal, for example he’d hold his hand above yours waiting for you to give green light or grasp it. 

“..Can i hold your hand?” “Sure!” “*DEEP INHALE AND BLUSH*” He couldn’t help to blush the first times. Specially on the firsT kiss but how would it be? A clasic scenenario after classes! And after you both have grown comfortable enough to each other’s touch. Seriously, if you like to go slow he's got you.

You two would be walking around in the campus after classes and he feels the tension grow.. he is analyzing every detail, he wants to ask but what if things get extremely awkward, he’s very tall- he’d have to bend down slightly (unless you’re nearly as tall as him) to do it so what if you flinch because it was unexpected.. he stops walking, he simply manages to say your name. You stared into each other's eye and then it happened, a big smile unexplainably forms in his lips complemented by a scarlet color across his whole face, his haircut made his head look like a strawberry.

There are going to be days you don't see him as much as you'd like, Tenya is very comitted to his hero patrols, he certainly would do extra hours from time to time or if the situation called for it. Let him know you like his hero suit! He’s thankful it has a helmet otherwise his flustered face would be exposed. 

Whatever position you cuddle in Iida would wrap his arms around you, not only that, he’d interlock his fingers so he has a nice grip. His cuddles would be the classic spooning or having your head on his shoulder with your arm over his chest and in case you worry about his arm, this guy doesn’t know limb numbness- he literally tenses and holds his arms up every five minutes.

He sends good morning/good night texts often on the weekends since you're practically living together thanks to the dormitory system, they vary depending on the day, some are a reminder to get a proper amount of sleep or! To get done with homework so you can enjoy your free time and maybe ask if he can go over to study *cough spend time together*

He'd send the classic heart emoji, very detailed but easy to comprehend videos explaining any difficult lesson and history related stuff like paint restorations or facts about iconic sculptures. Please don’t send him those videos of people accidentally breaking things on museums, he’s gonna feel like something breaks inside.

M I R I O

This ray of sunshine fell for you? Your luck is so big you’d get jackpot on a slot machine on the first try-. You’re undeniably going to be good friends with Tamaki and Nejire, specially her, expect to get questions one after another without the chance to reply when she finds out you’re Mirio’s significant other, Tamaki would take it way better.

Mirio’s goofyness and confidence combined with his feelings give a unique result: he literally spoke to the boss of mafia himself twice like he was the manager in a store, but, the case is different when you’re around, he’s saying and actually good joke and suddenly.. it goes away, his mind goes blank. “So what happened after Mirio..?” “Ah.. i had practiced a lot, i don’t know what happened haha my bad!”

You’re going to get tons of his jokes and something more “intense” such as the classic “What’s in your shirt?” to make you look down so he can boop your nose with his finger, you should expect some gentle headpats as well. 

If you’re shy he’s cool about it, he knows what do and adaptates to your pace, you’d start off with hand holding or rather pinky holding, he’d interwine his pinky with yours and show a bright smile. His hugs are the warmest, he doesn’t do it half-assesly, when you hug, YOU HUG, he uses both arms and slightly lifts you up! Height or strength are not a problem he’s actually one cm taller than Iida i just found out

He seems like the kind who loses their pen or eraser despite seeing it on their desk just one minute ago, if you happen to be that kind as well you’re both going to lay down your faith on poor Tamaki’s hands, i’m sure he has all his material complete.

He hardly ever gets nervous or scared by anything, things like the first kiss would go pretty smooth, instead of blushing intensely he’d just chuckle with slight disbelief, his mind is racing like “I just did that? woah!”. The biggest trouble for him would be gifts, he wants it to be perfect but asking Nejire for advice is not a good idea, roses are too formal and they don’t last long, going to the movies seems a little cliche.. his first gift would end up being a plushie of your favorite animal and a bamboo.

He’d sneak a kiss or two, specially before the class is begginning a training session, he’d send you a text telling you to go outside the changing rooms and oop! He phases through the wall poking out his head to give you a kiss kiss. If you don’t mind a prank from time to time he’d give a little scare using his quirk.

This guy is the big spoon during cuddles, no arguing! He could switch but as time goes by he’d slowly shift into the big spoon, that’s just the way he is, the most usual position would be where you’re facing each other with your limbs wrapping around the other’s body. Waking up with him would be adorable and attractive, morning and night are the only times of the day when his hair isn’t gelled into his All Might-like hairstyle, those blonde locks would frame his face, a heavenly sight.

Would send you a pic of stray animals he rescued with a “:D!” and Sir. Nighteye 'torturing' Bubble girl (half of his head visibly on a corner of the image). If you longed for a pet badly he would bring a nice dog/cat he finds around! In his hero suit to make the moment more special. 

He uses the smiling emojis and emoticons! And shares videos of animals he finds adorable, if you sent him fails videos he'd laugh as long as the falls don't seem extreme or too severe, small trips on the beach or slips on the snow are fine. Mirio sends gifs i just know.

A I Z A W A

Have you taken a look at him? You must be a big The Walking Dead fan to like him lmao. Aizawa gives me an unexplainable gut feeling that he'd prefer a civilian (perhaps quirkless?) significant other over a hero, he wouldn't want his partner to go into the same dangerous situations he does.

His affection is tired, let me explain, he'd hug you and all that physical stuff but it'd kinda feel like his arms fall limply around you, still, even with his minuscule clingyness he loves you with all his might! He doesn't fall for anyone.

Not very fond of PDA, in public he'd preferr temple/forehead kisses and having your hand on the crook of his arm instead of hand holding (thinking about it Iida would do that too), seems more discret and! you don't let go when his hands are busy. He'd initiates it by gently resting your hand on his arm and sinking his hand into his pocket.

Surprise! He does smile, not that maniactic-looking grin he has sometimes during his shifts at U.A when a student impresses him, this one is less wide but somehow more tender and sweet, he tilts his head and for once his eyes seem relaxed, a relationship would make his cheeks hurt.. either for he's not used to smile so much or he smiles more than he thought he would.

If you give him a cat.. that's a strong blow straight to one of his weakest spots, he'd stare both at you and the kitten with a dumbfounded look before picking it up in his arm like a baby, his hand gravitates towards his it's head giving some nice pets before he shows a rare and somewhat bright smile "Thank you very much." Next time have a camera ready damnit! That smile rarely shows up.

He's practical, he wants his gifts to be nice but useful as well. He’d get you those mugs with candies inside, you get the candy and you can use the mug later for your coffee or tea; a power bank with a nice color or design and in case he choses something smaller: a bamboo, those one don’t wither away. Aizawa is fine with whatever you get for him, big or small he appreciates it. Sweaters, scarfs and blankets would be his favorite thing to get though, he likes to stay warm while working late at night

He’s sneaky, as an underground hero he’s used to work at times when the streets look disolated and the dark crime has more freedom to do as it pleases, he wouldn’t want to wake you up unless you asked him to. He’d leave a note on is pillow with the time he wrote it at and a short loving phrase like “i love you, i’ll be back soon, good morning”, before he leaves he’d always lift the sheet up to your neck or drag it away if you seem to be kicking it off you and give you a small kiss.

You’d find him passed out in his sleeping bag with his laptop besides him at random spots of his appartment, if it wasn’t because of the unatura position he adopts to fit in his sleeping bag he’d give you a death scare ‘cause let’s be honest he doesn’t look one hundred percent alive even when he’s awake. “Shota..? Shota can you hear me?!” “I’m not dead.”

Hibrid of big-small spoon. Most of the times you cuddle he’s asleep and you go snuggle him, his hair is a mess so better prepare to get tickled all night. He pull you close the best way he can when you’re behind him, not very comfortable for his arm but it’s worth it. He’d have you like a pillow over him, his chin over your head and both arms around you.

This man doesn’t bother typing when he can use his voice, the only situations he uses regular text messages are when he’s on shift or with you sleeping next to him. Send him gifs of kittens and a ‘i love you’ it instanstly gives him a good mood! He’d send pics of cats he sees around and gifts he bought you, doesn’t use emojis.

*COLLAPSES ON THE GROUND* Big oof- requests are open.

[honey-dewey]

Soulmate Imagines

Another short not drabbles but not full stories either! I was completely inspired by a post made by @absurdthirst and really really wanted to write the boys in these scenarios! So I completely ignored both of my active WIPS and wrote this instead. Oops? Enjoy these long and indulgent soulmate imagines!

Total Word Count: 5,179

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Din Djarin:

Soul Tattoo AU

“Shit!”

You hummed, turning your head over, vision fuzzy. Din was rushing around the Crest, and you could see red painting his beskar. Was he hurt? You tried to stand, and then it hit you. Oh. You were hurt.

“Din,” you rasped out, blinking as his fuzzy image came into more clarity.

Din looked at you, helmet trained on your face. “Cyar’ika,” he said, taking your cold hands. “How do you feel?”

“Like I got run over by a herd of Banthas,” you said, shifting and wincing. “What happened?”

“Bomb,” Din explained, gesturing to your torso, where you were wearing a thin robe and nothing else. “Hit your side. Patched you up best I could.”

You nodded, swallowing thickly. “Did it scar?”

Din hesitated. “Some of it will. Nothing on your back though.”

Relief flooded you. You had no idea why you were so worried about your soul tattoo, but you were. The beautiful star map to Aq Ventina spanned your entire back, from shoulders to tailbone, the sides creeping over your waist. You’d done research about Aq Ventina years ago, when the curiosity had finally peaked. You’d read up on the history and knew that it no longer existed, decimated by a droid attack decades before you’d even known it existed.

“It’s a beautiful tattoo,” Din said softly, out of nowhere.

“Thank you,” you said, looking at his helmet. “It’s my soul tattoo.”

Din nodded. “I figured.”

And that was the last it was spoken of for almost five months. The next time it was relevant was during a two day long bounty hunt, when Din left to shower and you sat in your shared inn room, cooing at Grogu.

The shower water turned off, and you heard Din drying off. Then he called your name.

“Yeah?”

“Come here.”

Worried, you stood and headed to the bathroom. “Din?”

“Come here.” His voice bordered on urgent, and you immediately shoved the door open.

You were met with Din, completely shirtless yet still wearing the helmet, in the bathroom, no urgent problem in sight. However, instead of being mad, you were focused entirely on the tattoo that spread across Din’s back.

It was identical to yours.

“Din?” Your voice was tiny, so apprehensive.

He sighed, looking at you and taking your hands. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier,” he said. “But Aq Ventina was my home, so you have to understand that it was odd and a bit painful seeing the star map on your back.”

You nodded. “We’re soulmates,” you breathed. “I didn’t even know you had a soul tattoo.”

Din chuckled. “It’s not like I expose much skin,” he reasoned.

That drew a laugh out of you. “Yeah. But still.” Your fingers danced over the exposed edge of the star map that crept over Din’s side. “Soulmates.”

Din nodded, resting his forehead against your head. “Soulmates,” he agreed. “But only if you’ll have me.”

You smiled. “As if I could ever say no.”

Marcus Moreno:

Color Soulmate AU

To say you were stressed was an understatement. A huge project for Heroics was cradled in your arms, all sorts of papers and binders and information you were carrying to the filing room to be sorted. The stack was tall, which was probably why you didn’t see your boss until you ran directly into him.

“Fuck!” You shouted as you fell on your back, folders going everywhere. Marcus Moreno, your boss, was toppled next to you, also swearing.

“I am so sorry!” You said hurriedly, scrambling to gather the papers, eyes focused on your task. “I really should’ve looked where I was going and-“ you looked up, shock killing your words.

Marcus’s eyes were brown. Very very brown.

You gasped, your task entirely forgotten. “Oh.”

Marcus was staring at you with just as much shock as you were staring at him with. “Oh,” he echoed.

Your fragile moment was shattered by the click of heels and another employee coming over to check on you, her voice frantic.

“We’re fine,” Marcus reassured, standing and dusting himself off. Without saying anything else, he walked quickly away.

Once all the files were secure, you headed back to your desk and pulled out a small box of crayons. You’d never seen color, not ever, so this would be interesting. At least it would be if your hands would stop shaking.

One of your coworkers, Matt, came up to you as you used a teal crayon, marveling at the color. “Oh? You met your soulmate?”

You nodded, looking up and noticing the vibrant purple color to Matt’s tie. “Yeah. Bumped into him in the hall. Literally.”

Matt grinned. “Who is it?”

You cringed, the embarrassment setting in. “Mr. Moreno.”

“Mr. Moreno?” Matt practically yelled. “He’s our boss!”

“Yeah, I know!” You retaliated, checking your clock and scrambling up. “Fuck! I gotta go, that huge meeting is in ten.”

Matt smiled. “Good luck!”

Despite Matt’s wishes, you were fairly certain the presentation was a disaster. Marcus was missing, which was odd, and you ended up tripping over your words and getting a huge migraine halfway through the presentation. After sheepishly explaining the scenario, you were told to go home and adjust, you could redo the presentation tomorrow.

Of course, tomorrow was just as bad. Marcus was actually present, wearing a yellow tie that kept distracting you and forcing your words out in a jumble.

After the train wreck of a presentation, you decided this was a situation that called for a large hot chocolate. Getting one and settling in the cafeteria, you sighed, swirling your drink with a spoon. You were a certifiable mess.

The creaking of the chair brought your attention back to planet earth, and you looked up, nearly choking on your spit. “Mr. Moreno!”

“Please, I think we should be on a first name basis,” Marcus said. “So.”

“So.”

Marcus tapped the table. “I’m sorry I ran off yesterday. I just, well, I haven’t seen color since my- Since Clara died.”

You nodded. “I understand if you don’t want this,” you murmured, looking back down at your drink. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Marcus asked. “No! I’m, well, a little excited.”

That shocked you. “Excited?”

“Yeah.” Marcus nodded. “Excited. Missy’s over the moon, of course.”

You grinned. “Thanks. Sorry I’m so nervous. I’ve never seen any of this before.”

“Really?” Marcus said. “Oh I definitely know what we’re doing first.”

“What?”

Marcus smiled, taking your hands. “You’re going to love sunsets.”

Max Phillips:

Black Mark Soulmate AU 

“Oh no.”

You stared at your boss with nothing short of mild fear. Max fucking Phillips. There was no goddamn way. You’d known him very briefly in college, but this, this was unexpected.

He smiled at the employees, shaking hands as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

As if his right palm wasn’t the color of fresh stained ink.

He walked up to you, holding out his ink stained hand. You were hesitant to accept. After all, your right hand was equally black. But handshakes were common, very common among soulmate meets. Max Phillips was not your soulmate.

You were able to tell yourself that until the moment your hands touched, the blackness turning into a beautiful swirl of bright colors.

Max’s eyes widened as he looked at you. “Your hand.”

“Yours too,” you said, letting go of Max’s hand and letting him examine the watercolor of reds and purples that spread across his skin.

Max took a nervous breath. “No. Something must be wrong.”

You were shocked. “Max. Is it really that bad?”

“You don’t understand!” Max snapped, scaring you a tiny bit. He leaned closer, so you could see the devilish gleam in his eyes. “I have no soul.”

Your blood chilled as you saw the overly sharp teeth and the hint of red behind the deep brown in Max’s eyes. “Max.”

But he was gone, disappeared from right in front of you. Blinking a few times, you turned to your computer, determined to uncover the truth about your mysterious boss and the still tingling rainbow of colors on your palm.

Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales:

Countdown Soulmate AU

The countdown timer was surprisingly unnerving.

Actually, was it really that surprising? It was counting down to the most important day pretty much ever. Yours had always had years and years, much longer than any of your friends, but you didn’t mind. That was just more time to prepare.

Of course, when you woke up one day to find that the timer that had read seven months suddenly read twelve hours, you freaked the hell out. Taking deep breaths, you calmed yourself and got dressed, texting your best friend and asking him when he wanted you over for movie night. He responded with eight, and promised that you’d love his friends.

With one last deep breath and a glance around your apartment, you left for the day.

And ended up with a popped tire on the side of the road ten minutes before eight.

Screaming your frustration into the night darkened woods and frightening some poor birds, you sighed and called roadside service. An hour, at least, before they could get to you.

Your next call went to Benny, who you apologized to and told him you’d make it up to him.

Your final call was to no one. You simply sat back in your car and waited for roadside service while you tapped away at some mind numbing game you’d downloaded on a whim.

Headlights were visible in the distance not even ten minutes later, which shocked you and then worried you. Who the hell was out on this road this late at night? Were you about to be murdered? Who would find your body? Would Benny still hold true to his promise and wear a lime green tutu to your funeral?

The car stopped when it saw you, and your anxiety skyrocketed. You quickly texted Benny one last time and locked your car.

“Hey!” A few sharp knocks and a face in the window. “Do you need help?”

You were trembling, trying to keep a brave face. “Tire popped.”

“Oh.” The voice sounded genuinely worried. “That sucks. Where are you headed?”

“A friend’s house.”

“Did you call roadside?”

“An hour.”

“Oof. Hungry?”

“What?” You looked over, seeing the dimly lit silhouette of a man holding up what was probably a granola bar. “Yeah actually, I am.”

The man’s cheeks lit up, and you assumed he was smiling. “Well you’re gonna have to open up if you want it.”

You hesitantly cracked the door and watched the man step back. The car lights illuminated him fully, revealing a very attractive man holding a slightly squished granola bar.

Turning in the seat so that your legs were hanging out the car, you took the offered food, smiling as you ate. “Lord this is good! Thank you!”

The man shrugged. “No problem. I’m Frankie.”

You mumbled your name around the granola bar, and then froze as your wrist burned warm and then cold, a clattering alerting you to the fact that your timer had fallen off.

And from the look on Frankie’s face, so had his.

He looked back up at you, seemingly nervous. “So can I get in the car now? I promise I’m not a creep.”

You nodded, still slightly shocked as Frankie got into your car, sitting in the passenger seat. It was silent for a minute before you spoke. “So. Soulmates.”

“Soulmates,” Frankie agreed. “I’m glad I shared that granola bar with you.”

Your phone pinged, and you swore softly, answering Benny’s text and then rereading it. “Do you, by any chance, know a Benny Miller?”

“Yeah,” Frankie said. “I was headed to his place when I saw you.”

“Me too.” You showed him the text, which read ‘Dude! Be careful! My buddy Frankie’s coming along, so if you get attacked, he’ll totally protect you. Also, totally not wearing that tutu because you’re not dying first.’

Frankie smiled. “You’re in on the tutu thing too?”

You laughed. “Oh god! Not you too!”

“Yeah!” Frankie said, laughing along with you. “Benny totally already has it, y’know.”

You sighed. “Damn. That’s wild.”

The hour until roadside service arrived was filled with stories and bonding. After your car was towed, you got in Frankie’s truck and headed to Benny’s, arm in arm.

“Hey, Frankie found the murder victim!” Benny said happily, opening the door. “Oh shit, dudes I was starting to get worried about you.”

Frankie shook his head. “Actually, it couldn’t have played out better.”

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels:

First Words Soulmate AU

You sighed, taking a breath. Today you were meeting your baby brother’s coworkers at a work party. It wasn’t supposed to be so damn nerve wracking, but your stomach was a ball of anxiety. “Danny, are you sure about this?”

Danny, or as he was better known at work, Tequila, nodded. “Hell yeah, it’ll be fun.”

You tugged your bracelet, trying to cover the words winding across your wrist.

What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?

The Statesman Fourth of July party was apparently a big deal. There were sure as hell a lot of people. You stuck by Danny’s side, smiling at his coworkers and eventually sitting with a woman named Ginger. She was nice, and when Danny wandered off to flirt with someone, she stayed with you, giving you names to attach to faces.

“Oh, and that’s Jack,” she said, pointing to someone talking to Champ. “One of the longest lasting agents we have.”

You eyed Jack. He was handsome, especially with that cowboy hat. He must’ve noticed your staring, because he wandered over and sat down at the table.

“So, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?”

You took a breath, gripping the hem of your shorts and trying to think without looking awkward. A thousand responses rushed through your head, and you finally picked one you hoped wasn’t weird. “I dunno cowboy, why do you ask?”

Jack recoiled as if he’d just had ice water poured on his head. Ginger stood, shocked as Jack ran away. “What just happened?”

You were nearly speechless, tears starting to well up. “I think my soulmate just ran away from me.”

After a good long crying session in which you sobbed openly into Danny’s jacket and he vowed to absolutely murder Jack, Ginger gently explained Jack’s past with his previous soulmate. Which sent you into another round of crying and made Danny even more pissed.

He ended up taking you home early to watch shitty movies and eat tons of ice cream, comforting you as you numbly ate half a pint of Ben and Jerry’s on the couch.

When he left for work the next day, you made him swear not to hurt Jack.

You got a call from Ginger two hours later telling you to come pick Danny up.

Marching into Statesman again, you found Ginger at the entrance, lips pressed tight. She led you to the infirmary, where Danny was proudly sporting a black eye and a split lip. Jack was laying in a bed next to him, pressing ice to his cheek.

“Control your fucking brother!” He yelled as soon as he saw you, sitting up in the bed. “He nearly killed me!”

“Oh shut the fuck up!” You snapped back. “You best be glad I’m not petty, or else I’d have let him kill you.”

Jack was, wisely, silent as you helped Danny up and out of the building. Danny was also silent, but was definitely smug about it.

“Y’know I totally won that fight,” he said as you exited the building.

You sighed. “Sure. Whatever. Let’s go home.”

The next day, you got a call from an unknown number.

“This is Jack,” the voice on the other end said when you picked up. “I’m calling to apologize for beating your brother up.”

“Apparently he won the fight.”

Jack snorted. “Sure he did. Look, I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.”

A pause. “Cool. See you around.”

“Yeah. See you.”

He hung up first, leaving you with a dead hole in your chest. When you would see that cowboy again, you didn’t know, but when you did, oh boy was he in for it from you.

Ezra:

Pain Sharing Soulmate AU

You were screaming.

Well, screaming may not have been the word to describe the feeling. No, the agony in your right arm was numbing pain, the kind of pain that brought out animalistic noises and made spots dance across your vision. You writhed on the floor, clutching your upper arm and begging someone, anyone, to make the pain stop. A few nurses you worked with tried to dose you with painkillers, but nothing could touch soulmate pain.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the pain began to fade. You’d had some aches in that arm after a stab that was really painful and you’d assumed some kind of injury that your soulmate had sustained was being treated. But that, that harsh, indescribable pain that had you sweating and panting on the floor with your head spinning, you had no explanation for that.

After that, the nurses set you up in the break room with fluids and a light snack. Your right arm still hurt like hell, but it was manageable now. As time passed, the pain passed, until it was no more than a dull ache once more, with some odd numbness that lingered in your fingertips.

Of course, on the day you decided to try working for a few hours, your soulmate went and got himself fatally injured again.

Gasping and falling sideways, you gritted your teeth through a scream as your gut lit on fire, as if someone had driven a knife into your belly. It was the second time in three days that your soulmate had put you through this. What the hell was he doing?

Yet again, you were put in a room to wait out the pain, probably scaring patients with your sobs and pleads for any merciful god to put you out of your misery. This pain refused to fade, and you completely missed the wail of emergency sirens as a new patient in critical condition arrived.

Eventually, finally, the pain forced you unconscious.

You woke a few days later, breathing deeply as you realized you weren’t in any pain. The faint voice of a doctor met your ears as you slowly regained your senses.

“We’re all shocked they survived. With pain like that, I surely wouldn’t have been as strong as they were. First it was their arm, and then their stomach. We still don’t really know what happened.”

The doctor turned to you, and smiled when he noticed your open eyes. “Finally, you’re awake. We have someone who wants to talk to you.”

You grumbled, trying to string together the past few days. “What?”

The doctor gestured to a man sitting in the other bed in the room. “This is Ezra, our critical patient from a few days ago.”

“I was too busy being stabbed in the stomach to notice any crit patients,” you pointed out.

“Yes, well,” the doctor said with a smile. “He may have some answers for you.”

You sat up, rubbing your aching head and facing the other man in the room.

He looked like hell, face sunken and shining with post injury sweat. You reasoned that you probably didn’t look much better. But the interesting thing about the man was his bandage wrapped right arm. Or more accurately, his lack of an arm that was wrapped in bandages.

“Hi Ezra,” you said slowly, rubbing your temples. “Is this my headache or yours?”

Ezra chuckled. “I think it’s yours,” he said. “I can’t feel any of my own pain right now.”

You sighed. “Doc, can I get some painkillers? I got a headache.”

The doctor nodded, grabbing a few pills, but you shook your head. “The good shit, please.”

Smiling, the doctor picked up a syringe and lifted your left arm, considering your right still felt a bit numb. “Countdown?”

“Nah.”

The doctor gave you the painkillers, and you watched Ezra wince at the pinch from the needle as it hit your skin. Laying back as the painkillers took effect, you sighed, looking at Ezra. “I’d love to stay and chat,” you murmured sleepily. “But this stuff works fast.”  

Ezra smiled. “Don’t worry songbird,” he said. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

Javier Peña:

Soulmate’s Name on Wrist AU

“Get up! New client!”

You groaned, adjusting your top and trotting into the hall, standing with the group of women waving and giggling at the new client. He looked up at your group, a light grin on his face.

“He’s cute,” you said to the woman next to you.

She nodded. “He’s a regular at places like this,” she said. “Says his name’s Javier.”

You froze, the small name tattooed on the inside of your wrist practically burning. “Javier? He got a last name?”

“Not that he’ll share.”

In the end, you were Javier’s lucky victim, mostly because when he asked your name and you responded, his watch-covered wrist twitched. So he was your soulmate. Or at least you were his. He showed you bliss, paid you handsomely, and left without a word but with a spark.

Two weeks later, you ran into him again. You’d been in touch with a man at the US embassy about cartel stuff, mostly that the cartels had been reaching out to people like you and you wanted to stay safe, and the man had invited you to come over and give a statement. You were hesitant, of course, but the man looked kind enough, and the other employees knew him well enough that you felt secure.

“This is my partner, agent Peña,” the man said as he gestured you into a room. “But,” he said slowly, eyeing the bare name on your wrist. “I think you knew that already.”

“I did.”

Javier took a breath. “Can we get this done with?” He said, trying to sound annoyed but only succeeding at stressed.

Your statement was quiet and precise, and before you knew it, Javier was walking you out.

“Javier,” you tried.

“Don’t,” Javier growled. “Just go, forget you ever met me.”

“I can’t!” You all but yelled, grabbing his wrist so he couldn’t walk off. “I’ve been wearing your name since the day I was born, you think I can just forget all of that?”

Javier was quiet. “You think I want a soulmate?” He asked quietly, and you froze.

“I’m sorry?”

“No!” Javier growled, shaking his head. “I mean, fuck. This job, if they find out you’re connected to me, they’ll kill you.”

Your blood went cold, but you kept your composure. “Hate to break it to you,” you said, shoving Javier’s sleeve up and exposing your name written on his wrist. “But we’re already connected.”

From that day forward, you were under protection. You quit your job, moved reluctantly to an apartment that was secured by the embassy, and barely left the brand new apartment for anything. The war on drugs dragged on, and every so often, Javier would shuffle across the hall and find solace in your arms, always leaving before dawn.

One night, after a particularly hard day, you and him were tangled together on the couch, name wrists pressed against each other. Your skin burned and prickled at the intimate contact, but Javier was so lost he didn’t even notice.

“Javi?”

“Hm?”

You smoothed through his hair. “Will we ever be safe enough to be soulmates?”

Javier was quiet. “I don’t know.”

You sighed. “One day, I hope we will.”

Another long silence, and then Javier spoke up. “Me too.”

That morning, you woke up in his arms instead of in an empty bed, wondering exactly how life would shake out now that you had fallen in love with your soulmate.

Maxwell Lord:

Dream Sharing Soulmate AU

“I’m going to cry,” you groaned, pressing your head to the table. “He hasn’t slept in days.”

Your coworker, Ellie, sighed. “Hon, you just gotta keep trying. Go home, rest up. Get some sleep.”

You stood. Ellie was right. Just because Max wasn’t sleeping didn’t mean you had to punish yourself. You’d been going rounds with him for months, and it was really starting to weigh on your own sleep schedule. All you needed, all you wanted was to go home and sleep for days to correct your broken internal clock.

Your apartment was cold when you got back, and you quickly fiddled with the thermostat before stripping and falling into bed, cuddling up with the blankets and falling asleep almost immediately.

Just as with every night your soulmate didn’t sleep, you didn’t have a soul dream. Instead, you had your regular dreams, all nonsensical and silly. You woke up at one point to eat before falling back into bed, still exhausted.

This time, your dreams were different. You were in a soul dream, which meant he was finally sleeping.

“Max!”

No response as you ran around the elementary school, but you quickly skidded to a stop, seeing bullies mock a young boy for his lunch. That was your Max as a child, and you immediately rushed to his aide.

“Max.”

The real Max, the one who was asleep right now, looked at you with worry, finally tearing his eyes off the bullies. “You.”

“Me,” you said softly. “You need more sleep.”

Max shrugged. You knew who he was, after all, who didn’t? But the suave businessman you knew on TV was very different from the scared man you knew from your dreams. “Wasn’t tired.”

“For three days?” You asked. “Max, that isn’t healthy.” You felt a tug on your gut, a signal that your dream was starting. “C’mon.” You held a hand out, offering Max a reprieve. “My dreams are kind.”

He accepted, taking your hand as you led him to your dreams. In your subconscious reality, you were a child again, laughing and ice skating with your parents.

“Can you skate?” You asked Max, still holding his hand. He shook his head.

You smiled. “That’s okay, you can learn.” You snapped your fingers and skates appeared on both of your feet. “C’mon!”

Turned out, Max was an abysmal skater, but he was laughing by the time your bodies were ready to wake up.

“I don’t wanna go,” he admitted, and you grinned, squeezing his hands tight. “Can we do this again?”

“Tomorrow night,” you promised. “I’ll find you.”

For almost a month, you rescued Max from embarrassing or painful dreams, taking him to your more comforting dreams. Occasionally, he’d do the opposite for you when you had a nightmare, but you mostly spent the nights in your dreams, watching fireworks or going swimming. His darkest secrets were no longer secret, and he trusted you with everything.

“Y’know,” he said softly as you and him watched a Fourth of July fireworks show from when you were seven. “We could do this in real life.”

“We could,” you murmured, leaning closer to him. “The fourth is, what, next week? Doesn’t DC do a beautiful fireworks show?”

Max nodded. “We could make our first shared memory.”

You smiled. “We could,” you agreed. “We will. I’m not too far from DC, I can totally drive down on the fourth. I’ll pick you up from work, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds perfect,” Max murmured softly. “Dreamlike even.”

You laughed. “Dork.”

“Hey, you fell in love with me!”

“Yeah,” you said, looking at Max’s firework illuminated face. “I did.”

Pero Tovar:

Color Soulmate AU 

You pressed the leaf between your fingers, trying to gauge how sick the plant was. The grey color didn’t worry you, because you were fairly certain it was still green. “It just needs more water,” you determined, standing and brushing yourself off. “Try watering these plants daily instead of every other.”

The woman you were helping nodded, and you smiled at her as you walked back to your own garden. Rolling your sleeves up, you got to work tending to your plants.

It was hours before you looked up, alerted by the sound of hooves on the ground. A mysterious man was sitting atop a horse, his hair long and greasy, his face creased from what you imagined was a grueling ride. He jumped off the horse and stumbled in your direction, leaning against the fence. You stood, abandoning the plants in favor of helping the man.

He shook off your help, but stopped the second his hand connected with yours and both your worlds exploded with color.

You stumbled back, the sudden colors shocking you as the man reeled from you, his sun battered face full of shock.

“I’m sorry!” You said quickly, steadying yourself and reaching out to the man. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” the man said firmly, right before he passed out.

Two days later, the man woke up, his partner by his side. The blond man had showed up yesterday, introducing himself as William and the mystery man as Pero Tovar.

Pero looked around, nervous as he saw you in the corner, slowly and methodically mending his shirt. “William, quien es este.”

William shrugged. “I don’t know. Not a nurse, from what I can tell.”

“Diles que se vayan.”

“I’m not leaving,” you said, without looking up. “And please continue to talk about me in a language you assume I don’t understand.”

Pero blinked a few times. “You’re smart.”

“I pick up on languages fast,” you said, setting down the mended shirt. “Who are you, Pero Tovar?”

William looked between you two before finally speaking up. “Should I leave?”

“Please,” you said.

William left, and you crossed your legs. “So, who are you?”

“No one you should know,” Pero growled, getting up and grabbing his shirt. “Just forget you ever met me. You have your colors, go live a happy life.”

You frantically tried to keep him in the village, but he left with William as soon as the local medic deemed him okay.

For the next week, you slowly learned colors, finding your favorites with much trial and error. Some of the village women who had lost their soulmates in battles consoled you as you grieved for a man you barely knew, a man who had given you a universe of change and then left as if it had been nothing.

Almost exactly one week later, the sound of hooves rang out again, and this time, you didn’t look up from your gardening. At least, not until the visitor entered your garden, standing in front of your vegetables.

You looked up at him, taking in a much neater and more groomed Pero. He seemed nervous, shuffling from foot to foot.

Standing, you raised an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

Pero nodded, handing you his dagger.

You took the weapon. “What’s this?”

“In my culture,” Pero began. “When a man is ready to settle with his soulmate, he must give them his most prized weapon as a way of showing he is ready to stop fighting and raise a family.”

The dagger gleamed in the sunlight, and you smiled. “Well then, I guess I should make dinner for two, shouldn’t I?”

Pero grinned. “Yes, that would be nice. I’m hungry.”

[shoshiwrites]

could i get the commentary thingy on this piece from in bloom? i really love how vivid this description is, and it remains one of my favourites 🧡 (i might also send another one of these in for something joe/jo if you don’t mind 😅)

Spring had begun again, somehow. The melted snow told her as much, the softened ground under her boots.

Back home in Michigan, Faye had found almost no reminders of the past three years. How could she? It was easy to say things were different now, back home. She washed her hair under a faucet instead of out of a helmet, attended church services down the street instead of on a mountainside. The oranges on her mother’s table bore no resemblance in color nor taste to the ones of Mostaganem, their deep red flesh and sweetness.

But now, walking here, she couldn’t help but think of Caserta, where the platoon had stopped in their slow trek up the boot of Italy. The crumbling palace where they’d slept, worked, ate in the damp cold. She pulled her jacket closer now, fingers fiddling with the cloth-covered buttons. Her clothes fit her here, at least, but she still favored darker colors, heavy fabrics, mimicking the makeshift uniforms of her time as Private Jordan.

And just as the coolness reminded her of unheated marble, bombed-out wings cordoned off, the trees reminded her of Sparanise. Last week’s warmer days meant they’d bloomed early this year; their petals flickered in the lingering chill like white lights on a backdrop of gray. What a relief it had been to be outside there, spending spring among the apple trees. Miriam Shaw and Delores Philips had even planted a victory garden in front of their tent. Faye thought of them then, the letters sitting on her dresser awaiting reply.

Tsym Cora, for your words and for sending this !! 💕 and I would be DELIGHTED if you sent something for Jo/Joe, no minding at all!:)

[send me a fic snippet and I'll give you the director's commentary!]

So this section (and the fic in general) really could not have happened without these two things (in addition to @mercurygray's Blind Date Challenge back in February and her Central Casting generator, which started it all).

1. These photos of WACs among spring blossoms in Italy (1, 2) — the biggest inspiration right here.

2. This thesis (was calling it a dissertation, oops) on the 6669th Women's Army Corps Headquarters Platoon.

When I say that that thesis wrote the fic for me, I am not kidding.

Pretty much everything in this section is from there (Caserta, the palace that housed the WACs, Sparanise where they enjoyed living outside much better than their previous drafty accommodations). The 'makeshift' uniforms, where WACs either made do with what they were issued (which could be incorrect sizes and/or badly designed), or simply overrode the rules in the field and wore men's fatigues instead of what was officially approved. The only exception is the mention of blood oranges in Algeria, which comes (at least in part, I may have tweaked the location?) from June Wandrey's memoir Bedpan Commando.

For this section, I really wanted to (a) introduce Faye and her backstory fairly quickly, and (b) draw these quick little comparisons between home and 'over there,' since we weren't doing a longer dive into her time in the service.

I try in my writing to be really..sensory? And especially during a time of year like early spring, where everything's thawing, there can be these really vivid images and sensations to draw on. Having never been to either Italy or Michigan, I wasn't sure if the reminders for Faye were really 'accurate,' but I think they work here (not sure I'd have it be Michigan if I wrote this now, since that's an RL thing but. It is what it is for this). I am fond of the line about oranges, too, and that visual.

I also wanted to convey this sense of hesitancy, hedging, that little bit of stilted, "well, I'm home now. What does that mean?" So we see her making these observations, comparisons, fiddling with her coat, thinking of her fellow WACs and the letters they've sent her, which she hasn't answered yet. We don't know if she will, but she hasn't closed anything off at this point. There's that sense of possibility, which I wanted to come through not just there but in the entire fic, working together with the setting of spring.

[lousylark]

Loose Hair

(For Adrinette April, day 8. I wrote this in an hour and it is totally unedited. Oops. Enjoy.) @adrinetteapril

Chloe sends out invitations for another party. 

She claims it’s to celebrate her third favorite butler’s birthday one month overdue, but, if Adrien knows better -- and he does -- it’s because she feels bad for siding with Hawkmoth a few weeks back during the Loveater incident. 

She and her mother went on a two-week trip to London to “clear poor Chloe’s head,” and, though Nino likes to swear up and down that her bratty greeting to the class upon returning proves she hadn’t changed a bit, Adrien saw the shuffle in her step, saw the slump in her shoulders when she moved to sit beside Sabrina. To him, it’s obvious that his childhood friend is torn up over the incident. And so, he figures, the only reasonable explanation for this party is that she wants to apologize to her classmates for ruining whatever morsel of friendship might’ve existed between them when she sided with Hawkmoth.

“A party?” Kagami asks during fencing practice. She’s out of breath; so is he. Lunge. Parry. Repeat. 

“Yeah,” he replies. “She had one before you came to Paris, and it was pretty fun.” Lunge. Parry. “Well, other than the fact that her butler got akumatized. But it all ended well.” 

Kagami grimaces. Having been akumatized twice, the topic is sometimes sore for her. Adrien forgets -- after all, if he held grudges against anyone who’s ever been akumatized in Paris, he’d have fewer friends than Chloe. 

“My mother would never let me.” She flawlessly dodges another of his attempts. “Besides, it’s rude to go to a party that I haven’t even been invited to.” 

As if in response, Kagami’s phone pings across the gym. Her body tenses in surprise. Adrien could take the opening and score -- but he decides against it, figuring she wouldn’t find much humor in his foul play. 

“I bet that’s the invite,” he says, lifting the netting of his helmet away from his face. His hair is sweaty, it sticks to his forehead like bubblegum to the sidewalk. “Here, let’s take a break and you can check. I need some water, anyway.” 

She smirks. “Sounds like a sore loser’s excuse, dear.” 

He chuckles. “Hey, this isn’t over yet. Just wait ‘til I down another bottle of water.”

“Yes, and then you’ll have to use the restroom so badly that you’ll get distracted and I’ll win -- again.” 

He doesn’t further contest, just chuckles as she heads over to where her gym bag is situated. After removing his helmet fully and shaking his hair like a wet dog, he heads toward the locker room. 

Plagg, surprisingly, remains hidden -- he usually likes to pop out for a snarky comment when Adrien’s losing a match. But the kwami is nowhere in sight. Adrien sighs, hoping he’s not getting into trouble in Ms. Mendeleiev’s classroom again. 

He shuffles over to his locker, setting his helmet down on the bench nearby. As he does, however, he’s surprised to find a familiar pink backpack -- but no owner in sight. 

“Marinette?” he calls out, smiling at the prospect of seeing his friend. His voice echoes throughout the locker room.

No response. Strange, he thinks. He hasn’t seen Marinette much since the day Chloe got akumatized. Well, he’s seen her in class, of course, but not as much at social outings -- the few that his father lets him go to, at least. Even Alya has been concerned about her marked absences, according to Nino. 

He opens his locker to rummage around for a water bottle. He’s pretty sure Nathalie packed an extra in his bag when he wasn’t supposed to be looking -- she’s good at doing little, secretively nice things like that. 

Something metallic jingles behind him. Grateful for his cat-like reflexes (literally), he whirls around, half-expecting to meet a new minion from Hawkmoth. 

Instead, he catches Marinette red-handed, apparently trying, and failing, to pick up her backpack without being detected. She squeaks, perhaps just as startled as he is, and her cheeks go bright red. 

He just laughs -- a bit uneasy that she was trying to sneak away without saying hi, but still happy to see her. “Sorry, you spooked me.” He notices her keys on the ground -- ah, the source of the jingling noise -- and picks them up, holding them out for her. She snatches them like Plagg going for a crumb of camembert. 

“My bad,” she says. “Um, thanks.” 

She turns on her heel, starting toward the locker room exit. She’s not in gym clothes and he’s pretty sure she doesn’t do any after-school sports -- why is she here, he wonders? In any case, he isn’t satisfied with this particular interaction.

“Hey, wait!” he calls, and, thankfully, she stops and turns around to meet his eye. 

He notices for the first time that she looks -- exhausted. Like she hasn’t slept in weeks. And he can understand -- student and model by day, hero by night, the whole routine takes a toll on him sometimes. But Marinette looks like she’s been a superhero, a student, a model, a seamstress, a baker’s daughter, a farmer, a bookstore owner, a -- well. The bags under her eyes say more than words ever could. 

He wants to reach out and ask why she’s so tired, but gets an odd feeling that any answer she gives him will be either a half-truth or a simple “no thanks.” So, instead, he says, “I haven’t, uh, seen you around much. Are you going to Chloe’s party later?”

She turns toward him a little more. Her hair is totally out of place -- one pigtail falls a little lower than the other; her bangs are misshapen over her forehead. He can’t decide out of the two of them whose hair day is worse.

“Uh,” she starts, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “I haven’t really decided. I have so much to do…”

She trails off. Looks past him, as if she sees all her tasks piled up right over his shoulder and the tower is twelve feet tall. 

“Isn’t Kitty Section playing?” he probes gently. “I bet they’d love to have you there.” 

She smiles -- he’s grateful to see at least a little bit of light return to her eyes. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s the only reason I got invited. I think Luka told Chloe that they wouldn’t play unless I wasn’t barred at the gate.” 

He chuckles. He wants to tell her that, actually, Marinette was one of the first to get an invitation, and it was Chloe’s own choice. But he’s pretty sure Chloe would gnaw his head off if he admitted that, childhood best friends notwithstanding. 

“So I’ll see you there then, right?” he asks. 

She sighs. Looks down at her feet. “We’ll see.” 

As she starts toward the double doors again, he utters, “Hey, well, it’s good to see you, Marinette.” 

She pauses, backpack slung over one shoulder and one dainty hand pressed against the door. He isn’t sure she’s going to respond, but then she looks over her shoulder and flashes him a signature smile.

“You too, Adrien. Good luck with fencing.”  

She leaves the locker room, backpack pulled tightly against her shoulders like a safety blanket.

He watches her go, feeling...strange. Like he wants to chase after her, but he has no clue what he would say -- nor how comforting it would be. Instead, he makes a mental note to check in with Alya later. It’s almost as if there’s been a death in the family, but he’s pretty sure if something had happened to the Dupain-Chengs, he would’ve heard it on the news -- 

The door slams open. Half expecting to see Marinette again, he looks over the rim of his water bottle to see Kagami. 

“You were taking so long I half thought you’d crawled out the window out of fear of losing again,” she says, leaning against the doorframe. 

He grins. “And lose precious time with you? Never.” He swings the water bottle back for another chug, then, after swallowing, asks, “So? Was it an invitation from Chloe?”

“Yes,” she replies, dragging out the ‘s’ like a piece of putty. “I’m surprised. I don’t suppose you had something to do with this?”

He smiles. “I told her I wouldn’t go without you. And I called your mother earlier today -- she already approved the outing, but, uh, don’t mention the fact that it’s a party because I just told her we were going to the Bourgeois residence for light refreshments.” 

“Adrien,” she says, shaking her head in disbelief. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Go to this party with me? Have fun?” He approaches her, grabs both her hands, and spins her under his arms, gently trapping her against him. “Relax, just for once?”

She scoffs, but sinks back against his chest. With a deep sigh, she says, “Fine. It’s a date.” 

----- 

The party is, for lack of a more illustrative word, stunning. 

Chloe outdoes herself -- never much for words, her apology seeps through in the decor, the entertainment, the gift bags, and the food. Adrien is shocked -- but happily so -- to see that Chloe has taken the time to stuff every person’s bag with some personal treat. His own bag, for example, has a wheel of camembert. His friends have obviously caught on to “his” cheese obsession. 

Kagami looks lovely, in a burnt amber dress and eyeshadow to match. He chose a black suit with a green tie as a subtle nod to his alter ego -- so they don’t exactly match, but he’s happy to see her have a little fun with her outfit, for once. 

He spends the first half of the event swapping between Kagami and Nino, the latter of whom was asked to DJ the event before Kitty Section’s show at eight o’clock. Desperately, he tries to take his own advice and “relax, just for once” -- but between his anxiety that something will go wrong and an akuma will show up as well as the fact that he hasn’t seen Marinette yet, he barely has the chance to rest. 

Alya saunters over to the DJ station, hopping up into the booth to give her boyfriend a kiss. Kagami has never quite been as comfortable with affection as Nino and Alya -- Adrien, deprived as he is, is desperate for touching and teasing almost all the time, but he’s also a gentleman, so he’ll be as patient as she needs him to be. Still, when he sees his best friend and Alya together, he can’t help but sometimes feel a pang in his chest. 

He sighs. Waves Alya over. She sees him, gives Nino another kiss on the cheek -- they laugh at some inside joke. 

“Hey, Alya,” he says warmly. Her cheeks glow under Chloe’s recently-installed disco lights. “Is Marinette coming?”

“She’s supposed to be here by the time Kitty Section performs -- I know she had some babysitting gig or something before this.” She raises an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”

Adrien lets out a breath of relief -- leave it to Alya, though, to be able to read anyone and everyone like an open book. “You know, I just…” he trails off, wondering if there’s even any value to fibbing. “I saw her in the locker room earlier today. Does she seem...kinda tired, to you?”

Her expression darkens. “So I’m not the only one who’s noticed.” 

He wonders if that’s the end of the conversation. It certainly feels a bit like it, as Nino starts up a new song and Alya takes a sip from the champagne flute (it’s just sparkling juice) in her hand. But, then, she looks up at him, her expression concerned. 

“Girl won’t tell me what’s going on,” she says. “She’s been...different, since the incident with Chloe, you know? She tried to tell me that her mom and dad have made her take on more responsibility in the bakery, but I know that can’t be all of it.” She sighs. “I really wish she’d be honest with me. I don’t really have an answer for you, other than that.” 

As if on cue, the door leading to the hallway opens, revealing a slightly more put-together Marinette than the girl he saw earlier that day. He’s surprised, however, that she hasn’t taken the opportunity to premiere one of her designs. Instead, she dons a modern green chemise and black slacks -- a look that he’s pretty sure is from his father’s commercially-geared collection. 

“Excuse me for a minute,” he tells Alya, starting toward her. But before he can go, Alya grabs his wrist unexpectedly. 

“Hey,” she says, looking at him through lowered eyelids. Her tone is strangely pointed. “You’re a good guy, Adrien, just...just be gentle with her heart, okay?”

He wants to ask what she means by that -- he would never dream of hurting Marinette, the one time with the bubblegum was enough, thank-you-very-much -- but by the time he has his wits about him, Alya has merged with the crowd. 

He breathes out. Plagg would question him right now, for sure. That means it’s a good idea to just go for it. 

He passes through the crowd to get to Marinette, losing sight of her a couple times. Chloe calls out his name -- she’s wearing a huge smile, which he’s happy to see. When he turns back toward Marinette -- 

-- she’s kissing Luka’s cheeks, looking brighter than ever. She has to stand on her toes even in two-inch heels. As usual, Luka has his guitar slung over his shoulder; he shifts it via the strap to his back so that Marinette can give him a tight hug. 

He shakes his head, pulling himself out of his own stupor. He’s known about Luka and Marinette’s budding romance for a while now, so he really shouldn’t be fazed. But now, he realizes all of a sudden that --

-- she’s blushing for Luka. She used to blush like that for him. 

He doesn’t think too hard about the implications of that revelation -- he can’t, actually, because Kagami taps his shoulder. 

“Look, it’s Mari,” she says, employing the nickname he knows she relishes using. Marinette is, after all, arguably Kagami’s closest friend besides him, and he doesn’t really count. “I haven’t seen her in a while. Shall we say hello?”

“Uh, yeah, let’s,” he says, as if that weren’t already his plan. He should’ve thought to include Kagami in the first place, he realizes with a bit of guilt.

Thankfully, Marinette spots them amidst the crowd of classmates. She waves with the hand that isn’t holding Luka’s. 

“Kagami,” she says in greeting as they approach, reaching out to her friend for a half-hug. “It’s been a while. I’m sorry I haven’t been around.”

“Quite alright -- designing your next breakthrough outfit, I’m sure,” Kagami replies, bowing her head in respect. 

“Yeah,” Adrien adds, waffling between a hug and a polite faire la bise -- but finally settling for just squeezing her shoulder. “I’m surprised you didn’t use tonight to premiere a new design.”

Her expression falls just a touch. She looks up at Luka, who nudges her gently, almost as if encouraging her. 

“I just haven’t had time,” she admits. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Without missing a beat, Kagami replies, “No need to apologize. We’re just waiting that much more eagerly for the next one.” 

“Well, you don’t have to worry about it tonight,” Luka says, looking down at Marinette with a fond gaze. “You’re here to have fun, remember?”

Adrien scoffs. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell her,” he says, jutting a thumb toward his girlfriend. 

“We’re busy, successful women,” Kagami says, shrugging her shoulders. “No fault in that.”

Marinette giggles, seemingly agreeing. 

“Alright, so I’d like to see you successfully have fun,” Luka continues, wrapping an arm around Marinette’s shoulders.

He puts two fingers in his mouth and whistles, catching Nino’s attention. Nino sees the four of them and nods, then moves to queue a new song on the turntable. As the song fades into action, Marinette’s eyes practically bug out of her head. 

“You didn't,” she gasps, turning to Luka.

He chuckles. “I did. Come on, go let loose. I know you love Clara’s new song.”

Adrien turns to Kagami. “You should dance, too.”

“I can’t dance,” she scoffs. She seems to say something more, but Adrien’s ear is suddenly caught by Marinette and Luka’s continuing conversation. 

“What if...what if something goes wrong?” Marinette asks, her voice soft under the upbeat pop tune. “What if somebody needs me?”

“Then I’m right here,” Luka reassures her, holding her cheek gently in one hand. “Now go dance! I gotta help Juleka with the Kitty Section set-up.” 

She flashes him a winning smile. “I’ll be front-row.”

“I’ll look for you, lovebug.”

As Marinette leaves, Adrien can’t help but wonder about the meaning of their conversation. What could she mean, if somebody needs her? Sure, a lot of people need Marinette’s positivity and helpfulness in their lives, but -- and why is Luka so important all of a sudden? 

“Hello, earth to Adrien?”

Kagami is staring at him expectantly. 

“Ah, jeez, I’m so sorry, Kagami -- I got totally lost in thought.” He shakes his head. “What did you say?”

She presses her lips together, but responds nonetheless. “I said I’d like to try to dance with Marinette. Can you fend for yourself?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah, totally. Have fun.” As she starts toward the dancefloor, he adds in a higher volume, “Don’t worry -- dancing is just fencing but less calculated!”

Adrien watches as she disappears in the crowd, only to reappear next to Marinette on the dance-floor. The disco lights make her amber dress shine. He smiles, glad that she’s finally having fun. 

Still…

As the Clara Nightingale song continues, he can’t keep his gaze from Marinette. Her exterior shell seems to break just a bit -- with every hit of synthesizer, she seems to invoke more energy, twirling and laughing like he’s never seen her before. At one point, she looks over toward him -- toward Luka, actually, he realizes -- and waves, her expression one of pride and joy. 

“That’s my girl,” Luka says softly. Adrien starts -- he’d forgotten Luka was there. 

“We sure are lucky, aren’t we, Adrien?”

Adrien watches as Marinette gleefully steps on a nearby empty table -- a bold move for someone he might’ve once deemed shy. Always an advocate for kindness, she reaches down toward Kagami, who shakes her head, content to continue dancing on the floor. 

Marinette just laughs, dancing goofily on the table as the song continues. Alya and some of the other girls from their squad pool around the table but not on it, as Marinette entertains them with some silly soliloquy from above. The girls squeal with laughter. Even Chloe, who stays a cautious five feet away, seems to have one ear and half a smile perked toward their vitality. 

As the song comes to an end, Marinette enjoys one final spin atop her table. The elastics holding her pigtails slip away and her hair tumbles loose and free, blue tendrils following her as she spins like a sweet storm enveloping her face. In one gentle, fragile moment, just as the music fades to a halt and the room dips in volume, Adrien feels as if he’s watching her in slow motion: her arms are still out and swinging, her toes pointed underneath her like a ballerina. Her hair falls away, revealing her smiling, glowing face. The twinkling lights from the disco paint her awash in fairies’ colors. She is more carefree than he has ever seen her. This is the real Marinette: bold, daring, kind, joyful. 

Beautiful. 

Marinette’s friends shriek in hysteric joy as her dance finishes, kindly helping her down from the table and coating her in adoring hugs. He feels a strange stirring in his chest. 

“Yeah,” Adrien finally responds, “we are.” 

He turns toward Luka -- but the guitarist is no longer there. Instead, he’s moved across the room. Adrien only lets his gaze linger long enough to see Marinette joyfully receive Luka’s blown kiss. 

He may need a champagne flute filled with actual champagne. 

[mylifeincinema]

My Week in Reviews: December 22, 2019

This was supposed to go live last night, but instead of having it scheduled, I had it in drafts. Oops.

Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker (J.J. Abrams, 2019)

*This Review May Contain Spoilers.*

Well, it's not very good... but I still kinda loved it.

Things to Love about The Rise of Skywalker:

-It actually wraps up the saga, characters that we've grown up with get endings, and the characters we were introduced to a few years back get closure to their beginnings.

-Babu Frik. He could've very easily been another Jar Jar, but thankfully his screen-time was limited and executed well.

-The action sequences. Pretty much anything with a lightsaber involved is fantastic, here. Especially the dual location duel between Rey and Kylo and their duel on the ruins of the Death Star.

-Poe. I've always liked Poe, and he's given some more backstory/personality here. So that's good.

-Kylo's arc. It's satisfying and suitable for the character both on the page and as Adam Driver brought him to life.

-Zorii Bliss. She felt shoehorned in to give Poe a potential backup love interest. And to steer people away from 'shipping' Finn and him. But she was interesting, and brought to life with a good sense of mystery and conviction by Kerri Russell, so unlike Finn's forced (new) love interest, she didn't distract and/or annoy.

-The production design. The world building in this new trilogy has been absolutely stunning, and thankfully it didn't slow down any with this finale. There's nothing quite as eye-popping as Crait. But there's still a lot of interesting and beautiful work all over this film.

-Babu Frik. Seriously, I want to hang out/go on adventures with that little dude. He's awesome.

-BB-8... that dude deserves his very own trilogy.

-The Harrison Ford cameo. His 'I Know." damn near killed me. Very well done moment.

-The benching of Rose. Nothing against the actress (she's fine), but the character and her subplot in The Last Jedi was so awful and awkward, that I was really happy to see her role in this film diminished.

-The Knights of Ren.

-Any/all Chewie moments. I love him.

-Porgs!!

-Did I mention Babu Frik?

Things Not to Love in The Rise of Skywalker:

-The screenplay. There's so much painful dialogue and convenient, underdeveloped plot points, here, it's torture.

-The pacing is all over the place. The beginning is edited like a sloppy 'previously on' segment, and later scenes that should've flown by feel sluggish.

-That fucking 'I guess he must have been on a different transport!' bullshit. Are you fucking kidding me? Did these useless assholes actually get paid for this shit.

-D-O... what an unnecessary/annoying little droid. They could've easily replaced him with a simple discovery from BB-8 or C-3PO. Easily.

-Palpatine. It all felt convenient and forced. The story shit actually mostly works, but McDiarmid's hammy performance drags down any of the scenes actually featuring him.

-That festival. Ugh.

-Jannah and the hinting that she, Finn and other ex-Stormtroopers may be Force-sensitive. Stop giving this shit away to anyone you think might inspire any fucking nobody watching... it's lazy and pandering.

-Kylo Ren's helmet. Ugh. It looks so damn corny and he only wears it for (what seems like) one or two brief scenes.

-That clearly shoehorned, painfully cheesy 'I am all Sith', 'I am all Jedi' bullshit. We get it, another Disney backed film had an amazing, wildly effective moment with a similar exchange... that doesn't mean every film you release from here on out need to rip it off.

-Same goes for the cheesy 'Resistance Assemble' type moment, except J.J. executed that one fairly well, so I definitely didn't hate it in the moment.

There's surely plenty of other things I could put into both of these categories, and surely a lot more I could put into the latter rather than the former. But it's a Star Wars movie. Only three or so have ever actually been good movies. If you go in knowing what to expect it's really easy to let go and have an amazing time. Despite all of the major flaws throughout this one, that's exactly what I did. - 6.5/10

Uncut Gems (Benny & Josh Safdie, 2019)

Wow...

Who knew a two-hour anxiety attack could be so fucking fun??

Adam Sandler is spectacular; probably the best he’s ever been. He takes this wildly unlikable loser and makes us start to cheer for him in a way that pulls us into the film similarly to the way the game pulls him deeper into his gambling addiction. Despite knowing he’s a loser, we begin to cheer for him to win, forgetting that losers don’t win… not really. The Safdie Bros. fill the film with never-ending tension, making even the few relaxed scenes pop with a sense of urgency and trepidation. Together they form a wild ride that scarcely loosens its grip on the viewer, building up an unbearable pressure that explodes in the most sudden and shocking manner. In the only manner it ever really could. - 9/10

Richard Jewell (Clint Eastwood, 2019)

Richard Jewell is a film about a simple man who wants to live a simple life by simple rules. When he's given his moment, he delivers, only to have it snatched away from him from an establishment that just doesn't like the who and what he is.

Richard Jewell was a hero. Plain and simple. He wasn't a smart man, but who cares? All he wanted was to do some good in this world. He did. And that's the truth.

Paul Walter Hauser is fantastic. He brings Jewell to life with an overeager sense of duty and an often too black and white view of right and wrong. He doesn't fully understand what is being done to him, and certainly doesn't understand why. It never totally clicks why the FBI is treating him like a bad guy, after all, he's law enforcement just like them. He's at once completely naive and downright better than them. He doesn't understand their game, but he does understand it's not fair. Hauser taps into all of this completely, and shows us everything that made Jewell the man he was, for better and worse. It's a damn shame Hauser won't see any of the awards attention for this, as it's one of the more impressive real-life performances we've seen in recent years.

Kathy Bates and Sam Rockwell deliver scene-stealing performances as Jewell's mother and lawyer/friend, respectively. They both care for him, albeit in different ways, and their dedication comes through loud and clear through these performances. Jon Hamm is solid, and frustrating, portraying a composite FBI agent who failed in the moment, and who will damn well do anything to succeed in closing his case regardless of the truth, just to prove he himself isn't a failure. Olivia Wilde gives AJC journalist Kathy Scruggs a far more redemptive and complete arc than the film's detractors would like you to believe, and certainly more than she actually deserves. But in the end, I don't really care about Scruggs. Wilde did fine work, but at the end of the day, she's just someone who wrote a smear-campaign about a good man. In 2019, she's a dime a dozen.

Sure, the screenplay is slanted. It cares only about painting Richard Jewell as the hero he was, and won't be bothered by treating Scruggs fairly or losing itself in the media circus. It does this to help give a full picture of the nightmare Jewell was going up against and never seems excessive or unfair.

Eastwood's work here is as tight as ever; there isn't a wasted shot to be found throughout the film. He's not a director whose style ever blows me away (save for Million Dollar Baby, maybe), but his work's consistency and efficiency is astounding, filling scenes with just the right amount of emotion (that press conference) and tension (that bombing sequence) without ever losing focus of the story at hand.

Here, Richard Jewell is that story. - 8/10

Enjoy!

-Timothy Patrick Boyer.

[ughseoks-main]

Snapshot - [Chapter 3]

summary: A mysterious girl with a special power ends up on the Avengers’ front doorstep after running from Hydra. A boy with chocolate brown eyes and a heart of gold vows to protect her at all costs.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: fighting/minor violence, kidnapping, death, lots o’ angst, they’re mean to her at hydra 

a/n: whoooweee we made it to the end (i think lol)!! sorry for the huge gap between this chapter and the previous one, it’s been a little rough at school. anyways, i really hope you guys enjoyed this short series! be sure to let me know what you think & send me any requests for future fics/series that you want here :) (also im v sorry for this ending oops)

prologue | chapter 1 | chapter 2 | series masterlist

Light flooded your eyes as you opened them, jerking forwards in the bed you were laying in. Before you could sit all the way up, you felt a hand press on your shoulder, gently guiding you back down.

“You need to rest,” you heard Peter’s voice as your eyes adjusted to the bright lights, “Thank God you’re okay, Y/N.”

Peter’s soft voice put you slightly more at ease, but it didn’t make you any less confused. Once you could see, you glanced over him, noting that he had no injuries.

“Peter,” you said slowly, looking up into his chocolate eyes, “I thought you got shot. What happened?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, slightly confused.

“Right before I passed out, I heard a gunshot. I thought that the man shot you?”

“Oh!” he gave you a light smile, “That wasn’t him shooting, it was Natasha. She actually shot him. Multiple times. Probably more than necessary, but she was really angry, so there wasn’t any stopping her.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I guess she’s gotten pretty attached to you,” he gave you another smile, picking up your hand and giving it a light squeeze, “We all have.”

You returned the smile with uncertainty, unable to shake the feeling of wrong inside of you. Scanning your surroundings, you couldn’t pinpoint anything particularly wrong; something just felt off. Shaking your head a little bit, you wrote it off as a side effect from being knocked out. After a moment, you felt a wave of sleepiness overtake you, attempting to pull you back into darkness.

“Y/N, no, don’t fall asleep,” Peter’s face was suddenly overcome with alarm as he leaned forward in his seat, gripping your shoulders, “You’ve gotta stay with me, can you do that? Please, Y/N, stay with me.”

Even though you were trying your hardest, you just couldn’t keep your eyes open. Your head fell backwards onto the pillow as your body went slack, falling back into the endless void of sleep as Peter shook your shoulders.

Groaning, you woke up with a pounding headache, the throbbing making the bright light shining down on you almost unbearable. Similar to before, you attempted to sit up quickly and check your surroundings. However, instead of being stopped by a gentle hand, you were held back by rough straps buckled down to the surface you were laying on. Instead of laying in a soft bed, you were pressed against a cold, metal table, the chill of it seeping into your skin.

You were laying flat on your back, and hanging above you was a single yellow light. When you attempted to move your head around, the world began to spin, causing you to hiss and squeeze your eyes shut as your heart began to beat faster and faster. Your entire interaction with Peter was just a dream; you really had been kidnapped and taken by HYDRA. Once that settled in, you began to panic, tugging on your restraints with all of your energy as you thrashed around on the table. The rational voice in your head was telling you to save your energy, but the terror of what would come next outweighed all reason.

“You aren’t gonna get out of those restraints,” a deep voice chuckled from the other end of the room, causing you to freeze in place. Two large men dressed in all black stepped into the light, one with jet black hair and the other with fluorescent blonde, causing you to swallow harshly. Tears pricked your eyes as they stepped closer, praying that the team was on their way to save you from whatever HYDRA had in store for you.

________

“What’re we waiting for?” Peter yelled, “Y/N is out there and we need to save her!” The second that they’d arrived back at the compound, Peter had begun devising a plan to save you, refusing treatment for the graze on his arm until they finally rescued you. Tony managed to convince him to let it be bandaged, but only by saying that it would be better for you if Peter had all his strength.

“Pete-” Tony cautioned, trying to calm him down. It was very hard to upset Peter, but the team was actually considering doing nothing about the situation at hand, and that infuriated him.

“God know what they’re doing to her right now! We have to save her, we HAVE TO!” he stressed, tears of frustration spilling down his cheeks. He could feel his entire body shaking as the team exchanged melancholy looks, Tony being the only one able to look Peter in the eyes.

“Pete, we can’t save her. You have to understand that,” he implored, heartbroken by the words he was speaking.

“Why?” this time, Peter’s voice came out weak and small, cracking simultaneously with his soul.

“Because we have to fight Thanos. We have to protect Earth. I love Y/N, you know that, but the fate of the universe is in our hands and we have to hit him with everything we’ve got as soon as possible. Y/N wouldn’t want us to trade the lives of half the universe just for her.” Tony tried to take a step towards Peter, but he backed away, a new bout of determination filling his gaze. “Fine,” Peter squared his shoulders before setting his jaw, “I’ll get her myself.”

________

“Listen up. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way,” the man with the black hair threatened, his face visibly lighting up as he spoke the last few words.

“If you cooperate, then we won’t have any issues,” the other man interjected, “Now, wanna answer some questions for us?”

“I would never,” you growled, putting on a brave face even though your heart was pounding in fear.

“Well, we gave you the option,” the blonde shrugged and made his way behind you while the other snickered.

You tried to turn and see what he was doing, but it was useless. The way you were strapped to the table prevented basically any movement, which made you ten times more nervous when you heard some rattling behind you. Only a few moments later, something above you blocked out the light, sitting right above your head. It looked like a helmet of sorts, wires sticking out of it each and every way.  With a quick press of a button from the man, the helmet began to lower onto your head, beeping loudly. You knew that the second it was lowered onto your head, they would have access to all of the information you held, which would put millions of people in danger.

“No, no, no, no!” you began to struggle, trying to escape, “P-please, don’t do this, please, people will die-”

You were cut off as the helmet surrounded your head, latching onto you and emitting faster beeps than before. You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing yourself for whatever came next. After another few seconds, the beeps stopped, leaving the room silent except for your sniffles until it finally turned on.

It was like fire was spreading through your head and body as information was pulled from your brain, piece by piece. You let out a blood curdling scream as your mind was torn apart, the men grinning as information began to pop up on the screen in front of them. You had no idea how long you sat like that, screaming until your throat was raw, until you finally passed out.

When you finally came to again, your head was throbbing and your blood felt like fire. You could hear muffled yelling, the sounds of arguing ringing in your ears as you squinted your eyes open to see the two men growling at each other.

“Boss said we couldn’t run the machine for too long,” the blonde man yelled, “It could fry her brain and kill her.”

“Why should I care? We need the information fast, so we should just take it all in one go,” the other man yelled back, gesturing to you.

“Because,” taking a deep breath, the blonde wiped his face in exasperation, “She needs to be alive in order for us to get the information out. It doesn’t work on dead people.”

You released a breath of relief, hoping that that meant you’d be left alone for the day. If they could just leave, you might have time to think of a plan for escape.

“Fine. But I think we can get a little more out of her today.”

“We’ve gotta give it a little more time-”

“Don’t tell me what to do. Understand?” the man growled, shooting daggers at the blonde. He raised his arms in resignation, taking a few steps back as the man raised his hand to press the button once more.

You braced yourself, knowing that you were about to be swallowed by pain any moment. Just as the man was about to turn the machine on, a large crash came from the corner of the room, causing all three of you to whip your heads to the side.

________

Peter ran down the dark hallway, speeding up once he saw the door to the room you were in at the end of the hall. He didn’t even slow down once he reached the door, opting to kick it in with a loud crash.

The second he was inside, he scanned the room for you, desperate to make sure you were okay. He could feel his heart break into a million pieces once his eyes landed on you, seeing how broken you looked. Your eyes were glazed over with sadness and terror, almost all of the fight having been drained out of you.

With new determination, Peter looked back at the two men, more ready than ever to fight for you.

________

When you turned your head, you saw Peter standing in the doorway in his suit, ready to save you. A small smile graced your lips as you realized that soon, you’d be safe and in his arms. The white eyes on his suit widened for a moment when he saw you, only to narrow in anger when he looked back to the two men.

“Gonna be honest, I thought you guys would be a lot scarier,” he said in a calm manner, seemingly unbothered by them.

“Who the hell are you?” the man next to you growled, walking over to stand next to the other man.

“Can’t believe they really had to send two full grown men to look after one teenage girl. Kinda pathetic for you two, really,” Peter shrugged, “But then again, you should probably be glad that they did. Y/N could beat one of you in a fight in a heartbeat. She’s pretty badass.”

The men whipped out guns, but before they could shoot, Peter had already webbed them and yanked them away. With one swift movement, he lunged forwards, attacking the men with everything he had.

Since your vision was still swimming, you had to close your eyes, which prevented you from knowing what was going on around you. You could hear the sounds of the fight, but you had no idea who was winning. After a few minutes, everything finally went silent and you felt tugging at the straps that held you down.

When you finally opened your eyes, you saw a maskless Peter undoing your restraints while the two unconscious men laid on the floor. Once you were untied, Peter slid an arm behind your back and under your legs, lifting you off of the table and holding you close to his chest.

“You know, I can handle myself,” you said quietly, shooting him a small smirk. He laughed and set you down, but still kept his arm around you so you could lean on him.

When you looked back up, you noticed the tears in his eyes, threatening to spill down his face. You wiped away the first tear that fell with the pad of your thumb, only to feel tears of your own wet your cheeks. Peter pulled you tightly into his chest, small sobs escaping both of your mouths as you cried together.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” you cried, causing him to pull you even closer to him.

“I could never leave you,” he whispered into your hair, “Never.”

________

Tony stood there for a moment, shocked by what had just happened. They’d failed. Unless the other had found a way to protect Vision, they’d failed. Thanos would win.

Despite the emotions coursing through him, Tony managed to pull himself together and do what he knew he needed to do.

“Strange, I need you to get me somewhere. I need to make sure they’re okay.”

With a nod, Strange opened up a portal, allowing Tony to step through before he closed it behind him. Taking a deep breath, Tony began to walk down the long, dark, dimly lit hallway.

________

While you were stood there clutching Peter, he suddenly froze, his body going rigid. He then held you tighter than he ever had, beginning to cry harder than he was before.

“I don’t wanna go, Y/N,” he pleaded, “Please, Y/N, please.”

“Pete, I’m right here, you don’t have to go anywhere,” you reassured him, confused as to why he was acting so weird, “It’s okay, I’m here.” Instead of answering you, he pulled back away from you, gazing into your eyes with fear and sadness.

Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to your cheek before whispering, “I’m sorry,” tears falling down his cheeks.

You began to ask him what he meant, but you were cut off when you noticed his body slowly disappearing. “No, no, no,” you began to cry, “Peter, no, you can’t do this to me, please, don’t leave me!”

As his body began to disintegrate, you were left clutching dust, a cry escaping your mouth when the last part of his face was gone. A numb feeling spread throughout you as you let his ashes sift through your fingers, your knees hitting the cold ground below. You could feel your heart breaking, disbelief trying to take over to shield you from the truth. Peter was gone. You had no idea how, but he was gone, and he wasn’t coming back.

Your thoughts were interrupted as you heard the sound of the door being shoved open once more. Looking up slowly, you saw the blurry face of Tony standing in the doorway.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” he asked, concern filling his voice, “Wait, where’s Peter? Y/N, what happened?”

You couldn’t answer, so you just sat and stared at him with tears in your eyes. As much as you tried, words couldn’t find their way out of your mouth. You felt nothing. Tony ran over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder gently. Much to his horror, the second he did, it disappeared from underneath his hand. With a quick glance down, you could see your body disintegrating, but it didn’t phase you. You simply looked back up at Tony, letting a single tear slip down your cheek as you looked into his broken eyes.

They were the last thing you saw before everything faded to black and Tony was left standing alone in your and Peter’s ashes.

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[supersmashimagines-blog]

the inklings meet the koopalings, mayhem rises.

(Thank you for the submission! This one got a little long… oops! Also note: the inkling names are just a personal headcanon)

When Bowser Jr. and the other koopalings had come along withhis father for a new season of Smash, they’d received a stern talking-to upontheir initial arrival. Bowser wanted to make it clear that, even though theywere the best villains ever and there was nothing wrong with letting everyone elseknow that, there were still rules while in this realm, and if they weren’tfollowed, they’d be kicked out. At first, none of the koopalings paid muchattention to the warning; none of them were really all that interested inBowser’s warnings, as they’d never been asked to follow the rules before. Butas the first few weeks went by and each and every one of them would receivescolding after scolding from Bowser, the message finally sunk in, and thekoopalings hadn’t caused (much) trouble since.

Which was why, when Bowser Jr. was roaming the halls one dayand found bright orange paint all over the wall, he was rightfully upset.Firstly, because if HE wasn’t allowed to paint on the walls anymore, then itwasn’t fair that somebody else could. But more importantly, he didn’t wantsomeone else to find the mess and then blame him for it. Angrily, he followedthe trail along the wall until he found the culprit, one of the Inklingnewcomers. It was the orange one, but Bowser Jr. hadn’t bothered to learn anyof their names so he’d just call her Inkling.

“Hey, Inkling!” He shouted at her, puffing up his chest asif that would make him look cooler and more important than her. “You can’t dothat, clean it up right now!”

The girl stopped in her efforts of painting a crude-lookingcat on the wall. She gave him a look, and started speaking at him, but hergarbled, high-pitched voice sounded too much like it was coming from underwaterand Bowser Jr. couldn’t understand her. Whatever she’d said, however, didn’treally matter to him because once she’d said it she’d gone right back topainting on the wall, which infuriated the koopaling.

Bowser Jr. slammed his fist on the top of his clown car.“HEY! Didn’t you hear me, I said STOP that!” He reached out a hand and slid itdown the wall, smearing the girl’s paintings and causing her to let out anindignant cry.

The two were reduced to yelling at each other, each in theirown language and refusing to understand each other, until Princess Peachfound them in the hall. “What’s going on here?” She asked.

Bowser Jr. pointed a claw at Inkling and opened his mouth tosay something, but before he could get a word in, Inkling transformed into asquid and leapt into Peach’s arms, cuddling up to her and whining pathetically.

Peach was immediately smitten, and it took all of BowserJr.’s willpower not to scream, grab Inkling, and hurl her out of a window.

“Please play nice, Bowser Jr.” Peach scolded him softly.“The Inklings are still new here, you should know how hard that can besometimes. You should give them time to adjust.” With that said, she turnedaround and went back down the hall, Inkling still cuddled up in her arms.Bowser Jr. was left standing there, jaw gaping, and only able to imagine whatkind of smug look Inkling must have had.

He’d never forgive that girl, and from that point on he’dmade it his personal mission to make Inkling’s stay as miserable as he couldwithout getting caught by anyone else for foul play. And after he’d told theother koopalings what had happened, they were all too eager at both the chanceto cause a little chaos, and to redeem Bowser Jr.’s pride. Inkling wouldn’t betheir only target, either; the koopalings were more than happy to go after allthe squid kids. Larry snatched any unattended splattershots and taped them to theceilings, Iggy released a horde of pokemon in one of the living rooms andpushed the blame on Inkling, Morton hid an audio player in their room andblasted heavy metal music in the middle of the night, Roy switched theirclothes for the gaudiest rags he could find, Wendy baked them cookies that weremade with salt instead of sugar, Lemmy replaced the stuffing in their pillowswith bubblewrap, and Ludwig once covered the entire floor in their room withwater cups to turn the place into a minefield.

The other inklings, it seemed, were also capable of holdinga grudge, and instead of telling any of the other fighters about what thekoopalings were doing, they retaliated schemes of their own; Ponytaildyed Wendy’s bow blue and painted over Iggy’s glasses when they weren’tlooking, Agent snuck into their room and left ink in the clown cars to jamtheir functions, Bandana always made an effort to get in front of them in lineat dinner and take all of the good dessert, Baseball-Cap and Glasses team upand cheat against any koopalings whenever the kids played games together, Schoolgirl offered to do all of the koopalings’ homework asa “peace offering” and then wrote wrong answers on everything, and Helmet had somehow found a way to flood their bathroom.

Soon enough, it turned into a vicious, secret prank war,with the loser unofficially decided to be whoever was caught red-handed introuble-making first.

[victorineb]

Nice and Weird

Today is my darling @desperatelyseekingcannibals‘ birthday and so I wrote a little thing featuring their favourite movie Mads (Elias, from Men and Chicken) and their favourite movie Hugh (Grigg, from the Jane Austen Book Club). Happy birthday to my dear friend Max, I hope you enjoy <3<3<3

Also on AO3.

It all started with an argument. Well, less an argument than Jocelyn telling Grigg why he was wrong and Grigg trying to be pleasant while defending himself. It was something she’d always done, when they were dating and only slightly less now that they weren’t. Grigg didn’t mind it, really; Joss meant well, she just had this unfortunate habit of always believing she was right about everything. Unfortunately, what started as a fairly good-natured discussion about the relative merits of paper versus e-books (Joss, inevitably, was wedded to her dead trees, while Grigg, equally inevitably, was delighted by the way that touchscreens felt like something straight out of the future) had now descended into a personal attack on Grigg’s good nature.

“You’re talking out your ass, Joss,” Grigg told her, patience at having his personality dragged through the mud wearing thin.

“It’s true!” she retorted. “You’re completely undiscerning. You like everyone, doesn’t matter if they’re rude, or boring, or stupid. My dogs are choosier about the company they keep!”

“Clearly untrue, given that they happily spend most of their time with you!”

“Keep it civil, you two,” Bernadette murmured, from her seat opposite them. Most of the other club members had wandered off into Allegra’s kitchen, waiting for Joss and Grigg to finish their bickering before the official discussion could recommence.

“All I’m saying is, it’s lovely that you’re so, well, lovely,” Jocelyn offered (all typical alpha condescension, in Grigg’s opinion), “but if you just like everybody by default, it’s basically the same as not liking anybody at all! It doesn’t mean anything when you like someone, if you just automatically like everyone.”

“Look, I still think that’s crap, and an excuse for you being your usual judge-first-ask-questions-later self, but it’s not even true anyway. I don’t like everybody,” Grigg protested.

“No?” Joss looked at the omega doubtfully. “Name one single person you don’t like. Just one and I’ll drop the whole thing.”

“Fine. Easy,” Grigg told her.

“Real people, Grigg, not politicians or celebrities,” came the proviso.

“No problem.” There were plenty of people he couldn’t stand. Must be dozens of them.

It was just that Grigg was having real difficulty bringing one to mind right now.

Minutes passed as Grigg racked his brains, and a smug smile spread across Joss’ face. It was infuriating enough for Grigg to simply grab the first name that came to mind. “Well… Elias is pretty weird…”

Elias was the new member of the book club, having joined three months previously. He had moved all the way from Denmark to California, after some incident with his family that no one could quite grasp the nature of. Apparently he had decided his destination by throwing a dart at a map, instead of considering such little details as where he might get a job, or the fact that he knew no one in the country, let alone the state. It was the latter issue that had brought him to the book club, after meeting Bernadette at a speed dating event. She hadn’t wanted to date the alpha, but had taken pity on the strange man, who clearly didn’t have anybody in his life, and had invited him to join their group. It wasn’t her most popular decision.

None of the other members could stand Elias, with his awkward manners and brusque attitude, with the way he would talk over them and criticise their opinions. He was loud, opinionated, obnoxious and eccentric. More than eccentric, frankly, he was just plain weird, given to flights of Walter Mitty-like exaggeration about his accomplishments and his prowess as an alpha. Elias was rude. He was overbearing. He was horribly pedantic. He was just, well, really hard to like.

(Even if Grigg did rather enjoy the way Elias would ride roughshod over Jocelyn’s opinions. And the dry sense of humour he displayed when he wasn’t being a jackass. And the way he would give out hugs for no reason at all, holding Grigg against his large, warm, surprisingly solid body. And the way he smelled fucking fantastic, the kind of scent that would make even a beta sit up and take notice, and was, to Grigg’s sensitive omega nose, good enough to take a bath in.)

He was also, judging by Bernie’s horrified expression and the rough inhale of breath behind Grigg, standing right behind him.

Grigg cringed, and turned slowly, to be met with teary eyes and a trembling mouth that sat oddly on a fifty-ish bull of a man.

“Elias, I didn’t,” Grigg started, but with a strangled noise, Elias dropped the book he had been holding and rushed from the house.

“Oops,” Jocelyn said, insincerity dripping from every pore, and it was all Grigg could do not to give her a telling off in the middle of Allegra’s living room. Instead he simply glared at her and took off after Elias, grabbing the dropped book and shoving it inside his jacket as he went.

Grigg ran out into the street, hurriedly strapping his helmet on and craning his neck to see which direction Elias had gone in. The alpha’s size was a blessing in this case, Grigg easily catching sight of his thatch of greying curls as he ran in the direction of the park. Grigg hopped onto his bike and set off in pursuit, weaving through traffic with a recklessness that was completely unlike him. He had the strangest need to get to Elias and make everything better between them, like something was tugging at him from the inside. He could feel it almost like a physical tether, dragging him towards the alpha. Not like when he was in heat and the desire to find and bed an alpha was almost irresistible, more that he wanted to protect Elias from the hurt he had caused, wrap him in his arms for once and soothe the pain away.

Maybe Joss was right about him being unable to dislike anyone.

Grigg skidded into the park, nearly knocking a guy down in the process and not even stopping to check if he was alright. Every bone in his body was telling him not to lose Elias, to keep him in his sights until he caught up and could make him listen. So he yelled an apology and kept moving, speeding up when he caught sight of Elias heading straight for the other side of the park, beyond which Grigg was sure to lose him in the bustle of shops and traffic. Grigg put his head down and pedalled harder, determined not to let that happen, easily gaining on Elias now that there was no traffic in the way and a decent path beneath him. When he was close enough, he began shouting the alpha’s name, ignoring the disapproving looks he got for disrupting the relative peace.

“Elias!” Finally, after ignoring him for a good minute, Elias acknowledged Grigg’s calls and turned to watch him approach. Grigg’s stomach dropped as he realised the man had been crying, and the need to make things right grew unbearable. He slid to a halt and stumbled off his bike, dropping it carelessly to the ground. “Elias, I’m so-”

Elias cut him off with a raised hand. “It is alright, Grigg, you do not have to explain,” he sniffed, tears still running down his face. “I am aware that nobody likes me and I am not welcome to be in the club. I thought perhaps you were different, because you let me hug you and do not run away like the girls, but I see now that you were only being polite.” He drew himself up tall, trying to look arrogant and imposing, and failing miserably because of his still-shaking shoulders and the tracks of tears down his cheeks. “I am sure there are lots of clubs that would be happy to have an alpha of my stature, unlike you and your silly girls’ club.”

Guilt-stricken or not, Grigg balked at these words. “Now you see that is your problem, Elias,” he snapped.

The alpha’s eyebrows raised and he sneered at Grigg. “I think my only problem is that I am still talking to you,” he growled, and make to push past Grigg, who set his feet and grabbed onto the bigger man.

“Look, Elias, I’m trying to help you here,” Grigg said, struggling not to be overpowered by Elias’ more powerful form.

“You are helping me by insulting me? I think you are the weird one, Grigg.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who’s always starting fights,” Grigg retorted, choosing to ignore the fact that he was, essentially, engaged in a wrestling match in the middle of a public park.

Elias glared at him and opened his mouth, apparently to protest, but then his face seemed to crumple and he began crying again. “You’re right, Grigg, I am a terrible man, cruel and horrible. Nobody should like me, I do not deserve it,” he wailed, provoking yet more disapproving looks to be cast in Grigg’s direction.

Grigg sighed, and manhandled the now-pliant alpha towards a bench, onto which Elias collapsed and buried his face in his hands. Grigg sighed, and took the seat next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders in an attempt to soothe. “Look, Elias, I admit, you’re not the easiest guy in the world to get along with…”

Elias sobbed, and choked out, “You said I was weird…”

“Well sure,” Grigg said, aiming for lightness and mostly succeeding, “what’s wrong with weird? It’s fine to be weird, Elias. I’m pretty weird. Some of my favourite people in the world are completely weird.”

Elias sniffed, the tears abating somewhat. “So… you don’t hate me?”

Grigg punched the alpha softly in the arm. “I’m not saying you can’t be a handful, big guy. But I definitely don’t hate you. In fact, there are times when I really like you.”

Elias looked up at that, hope in his tear-filled eyes. “Really?”

“Remember last meeting, when you asked Jocelyn if she had lost a bet and wasn’t allowed to say anything sensible for twenty-four hours?” Grigg asked, shooting a conspiratorial look at Elias, who nodded and gave a watery smile. “I nearly broke something trying not to laugh at that.”

Elias’ smile widened momentarily at the confession, but then shrank almost immediately. “But the others, the women, they all shouted at me.”

“That’s probably because you also called Joss ‘a domineering shrew who always smells of wet dog,’ Elias,” Grigg told him, grinning at the memory and then shaking himself, adding, “which is not cool at all, and definitely not funny.” Grigg sighed and leaned a little against Elias. “Look, the thing is, it’s not ok for you to go around insulting everybody. And it’s really not smart if you want people to like you.”

Elias sniffed and nodded morosely. “Nobody likes me because of the things I say. I do not know why I say them. My brother says that I should keep my mouth closed but people say stupid things and then I shout at them and I cannot stop.” He sniffled again. “I would like people to like me. I would like you to like me.”

Grigg was suddenly aware that he was blushing and turned his head from Elias’ red-rimmed gaze. “I do like you,” he said, trying to make his voice light, though it came out somewhat throaty, “I already said I did.”

“Yes,” Elias agreed, his own voice still thick with tears, “you did say that.”

They sat for a moment in silence, Grigg increasingly aware of how close they were, and of the scent of Elias, becoming gradually less distressed, which soothed Grigg’s own tension in turn. It was odd, how comfortable he felt just sitting with Elias and he realised that he’d never actually been alone with the alpha before. Suddenly, Grigg felt very strongly that it wasn’t something he wanted to lose, this inexplicable, out-of-the-blue intimacy, and decided that something would have to be done about the club.

“Look, Elias, if I could help you get on better with the girls, would you let me?” Grigg asked carefully.

Elias took a deep breath, and Grigg braced to be shouted down, but then the alpha looked at him with such a puppyish expression of hope that Grigg couldn’t help but reach out and pat him gently on the knee.

“You’ll let me?” he asked, and smiled when Elias nodded. “Ok, good. Let me think about it and… maybe I could call you and we could get together and chat about-”

“Are you asking me for a date, Grigg?” Elias was peering at him with a very odd expression.

“What? No. Not… I wasn’t asking you out, Elias.” Grigg laughed, hoping it sounded less horribly awkward to Elias than it did to him. “I just thought we could, you know, strategize, before the next club meeting.”

“Oh.” Elias scrutinised him a moment longer, then suddenly burst out, “I only wanted to check, of course. Because you are unmated.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to jump every stray alpha I come across, Elias,” Grigg said, chalking the odd flutter in his stomach up to irritation at the old-fashioned assumption.

“Of course not, I only…” Now Elias was the one stumbling over his words. “I did not…  want any misunderstanding between us. Now we are friends. Just friends.”

“Oh. Ok.” Grigg took a deep breath and tried to remember that Elias came from a different culture, and that he had at least been trying to be considerate. He decided to cut the man a break. “So you’ll still let me help you?”

Elias nodded, though he avoided looking Grigg in the eyes. “Yes, thank you, I would like that.”

“Least I could do, after upsetting you like that,” Grigg shrugged and surveyed the park. It was coming up on magic hour, a golden glow settling across the stretch of green. Suddenly, Grigg didn’t want to be anywhere else. “Hey, I think I’m gonna stay here for a while, maybe start on the book for the next meeting. Oh, which reminds me, I brought this.” He pulled Elias’ abandoned book from his jacket and handed it to him.

Elias accepted it with a smile and said, “Thank you, Grigg. You are the only person who has been kind to me in this country. I am glad to have met you.”

Once again, Grigg felt his face heat. Elias had the strangest ability to make him feel pleased and embarrassed all at once with his guileless comments. Even stranger, Grigg found he didn’t want him to stop.

“Would you want to maybe sit with me for a while?” he asked. “It’s beautiful here, don’t you think?”

Elias looked at him with that inscrutable expression again, and then asked the last question Grigg ever would have expected. “Would you read it to me?”

“I…” Grigg looked around. “What, out here in the middle of the park?”

“Please. My brother, he used to read to me before bed, I always liked it. Your voice is pleasant, I think I would enjoy listening to you.”

And, well, surely even the hardest-hearted person who struggle to say no to that, Grigg mused. So he took out his tablet and called up the new book – Nights at the Circus – before looking over at Elias. “I’m not doing the accents, just so you know.”

“That is acceptable,” Elias told him.

“Acceptable,” Grigg muttered, but he couldn’t help but grin at the childish happiness in Elias’ expression as he turned to the first page and began: “‘Lor’ love you sir!’”

They stayed there together, Grigg leaning back against the bench, Elias forward with his arms resting on his knees, until it grew too dark to read. And when they parted, Grigg couldn’t help but hear Elias’ words from earlier, now we are friends, and feel that odd little tug inside him again.

The next meeting started well enough. Elias and Grigg arrived early at Jocelyn’s place and commandeered the sofa (and if Grigg sat closer than was strictly necessary, it was only so that they could carry out their plan and certainly not so that Elias’ scent could wrap around him like it had that day at the park). The others trickled in one by one and Grigg took special care to ignore Jocelyn smugly mouthing told you so when she caught sight of him and Elias sitting so cosily together. Really, he couldn’t remember why he’d been in such a hurry to prove her wrong. So he liked people, how was that remotely a bad thing? It had brought him closer to Elias, after all and that was… that was unexpectedly important to Grigg, somehow.

Instinctively, he nestled in a bit closer to Elias and then was surprised to find the alpha reaching his arm around as if to hold Grigg. Both of them froze and then turned sheepish looks on each other as Elias retracted his arm and Grigg sat up straighter, trying to subtly scoot a little away from Elias. It didn’t work terribly well, since Bernie chose that moment to plop down in the seat next to Grigg and start the meeting.

After that bit of awkwardness, though, things progressed pretty well. Grigg had decided to go for simple and direct with his plan to help Elias, mostly because when he’d tried to describe his idea involving a complex system of book-related code-words, Elias had given the distinct impression that he was about to either start crying or hitting things. Instead, Grigg was now in possession of a tiny remote control, while Elias had a small device strapped to his wrist, designed to give out a very mild shock whenever Grigg activated it. Any time Elias started saying something insulting, Grigg would press the button to give Elias the signal that he had gone too far.

So far, Grigg had had to use it seven times and they were only forty minutes into the meeting.

Still, it was working well, Elias barely flinching when Grigg shocked him and managing to follow Grigg’s instructions to stop himself and then apologise and allow someone else to talk. From the other members’ reactions, Elias’ attempts to restrain himself and be considerate were not lost on the group, and the discussion began to flow amiably. Sylvia even offered him more coffee when Elias drained his cup, and Allegra asked him to expand on a point about the novel’s portrayal of a human-animal hybrid.

Then Jocelyn piped up.

She’d been a pill at every meeting since they’d decided to read Angela Carter instead of her preferred Bronte sisters. All Grigg’s fault, of course. She’d won pretty much everyone round to Charlotte, Emily, and the other one whose name Grigg could never remember, when he’d mentioned Carter in passing. Before he knew what was happening, the whole group… almost the whole group had decided her novels sounded fascinating and just what they were looking for. And Jocelyn had decided to sulk over every single last word of “silly, fantastical, overwritten nonsense” they read. So it wasn’t surprising that she went to town over the new book, accusing it of being post-feminist melodrama with literary pretensions.

What was surprising was that halfway through her tirade on how ridiculous it was to expect anyone to take seriously a heroine who was half-woman, half-swan, Elias shot to his feet and started his own rant about how Jocelyn was cruel and insensitive, and that there was nothing wrong with a person having wings, or any other animal parts if they wanted to…

Grigg, of course, had started slamming the button in his pocket the second Elias moved, but instead of causing the alpha to rein himself in, it only resulted in Elias tearing the bracelet from his wrist and throwing it onto the couch behind him. All Grigg could do was pick it up and hold its warmth against his palm, as he watched the argument intensify. He felt unsettled, disproportionately upset by the dispute, by Elias being angry and distressed. That strange urge to soothe and protect the alpha was back again, tugging at his chest, and he found himself scenting the bracelet instinctively, the reminder of Elias somehow calming him. Coming back to himself a little, Grigg looked up to see Elias and Joss facing off, staring daggers at each other.

“I want to propose-” Jocelyn started.

“Oh, Joss, don’t,” Bernadette said, causing Grigg to wonder just what they’d been discussing behind his back.

“I. Want. To. Propose,” Jocelyn gritted out, ignoring Bernie and staring down Elias, “that Elias should be removed from this club. He is rude and obnoxious and nobody can stand him. He needs to go.”

“Fine,” spat Elias. “I will leave. I have no need of your silly girls’ book party anyway.”

Grigg was on his feet now, and caught Elias by the arm to stop him storming out. “Hey now,” he said, trying to sound encouraging, “there’s no need for any of this. Elias knows he can be a bit aggressive sometimes, but we’re working on it, right Elias?” Elias just grunted so Grigg ploughed on. “Anyway, we didn’t all get along to begin with, did we? Allegra thought Prudie was a stuck up bitch.”

The two women in question looked at each other and nodded. “He has a point,” Prudie said.

“See?” Grigg looked at Jocelyn hopefully. She looked unimpressed. “And, and,” Grigg went on, undeterred, “you all thought I was an empty-headed dork when you met me.”

“Some of us are still waiting to be proven wrong on that,” Allegra called out, grinning at Grigg when he turned to her. He was about to tease her back, hoping some lightheartedness would break the tension and make Jocelyn back off, when they both jumped at the sound of Elias actually growling at Allegra, sounding for all the world like an alpha whose mate had just been insulted.

Which was insane, obviously, Grigg thought, through the haze of confusion, Elias didn’t even have a mate.

“Ok, see, you and Prudie never growled at any of us,” Jocelyn said, triumphantly. “And neither of you give off the horrible stench, either, thank god,” she added, wrinkling her nose.

Grigg turned on her, irritated by the unfounded insult. “What are you talking about, Joss, Elias doesn’t smell bad.”

Sylvia raised a hand and, with an apologetic expression, gently said, “Actually, he does. We’ve all noticed it.”

Grigg cast around the room in amazement, taking in the reluctant nods from the rest of the group. “You’re all mad,” he exclaimed, frustrated, “Elias smells fantastic. I’ve never met anyone who smells better!” Behind him, Elias actually purred at this, and really, all this alpha posturing was a bit ridiculous. It was as if Elias… as if Elias…

Oh.

“Oh!” Bernie cried, throwing her hands in the air. “True mates! Grigg and Elias are true mates!”

The entire room stared at her, but it was Elias who spoke first. “Grigg is my åndsfælle?”

“I’m your what?” Grigg blurted.

“Åndsfælle… is… I think you have it as soul’s mate, in English?” Elias smiled hopefully at Grigg, who could only shake his head in disbelief.

“I… but…” He turned to Bernadette with a pleading look. “Could someone please explain what my being the only one to find Elias’ scent appealing has to do with us being fated to be together in some fantastical way?”

Bernie looked at him kindly and said, “Not quite fated, Grigg sweetie, though lots of cultures still refer to something like soulmates. It just means you’re biologically perfect for each other. It’s very rare, most people don’t know about it. I only do because husband three and I were the same way. And if that’s anything to go by, you boys have some fantastic sex in your future,” she grinned.

Grigg stared at her, and then collapsed back onto the couch. “Holy shit.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes and then lowered it slowly, cringing. “Wait, does this mean I smell bad to everyone except Elias?”

“No honey,” Bernie said, shaking her head vehemently. “It’s only the alpha’s scent that changes, and only when they come into contact with their omega. It explains why I didn’t notice it the first time we met – Elias probably smelled like your average alpha right up until the time he met you. I bet no one avoided you because of your scent before, right Elias?”

“No,” the alpha agreed, “most people said it was because of my personality.”

Bernie slapped a hand over her mouth, trying to hide her laughter, but Grigg just felt another urge to hug Elias and make sure no one was cruel to him ever again.

He must have noticed the way Grigg was looking at him, because Elias came to sit by him, taking his hand gently and looking earnestly into Grigg’s eyes. “This is not so much a shock to me, Grigg, as I have been attracted to you for many weeks now. You are very beautiful and you smell good to me also, though often very sweaty because of you riding your bike everywhere.”

Grigg held up a hand and Elias trailed off. Then he strapped the shock bracelet back onto Elias’ wrist, saying, “I think we may need to keep this on if we’re going to pursue this.”

Elias pouted at the bracelet and then Grigg’s words seemed to catch up to him. He looked up, wide smile baring pointed teeth that Grigg couldn’t help but imagine latching onto his bonding spot. “Then,” he asked, “you would like to? You would be mine?”

“I… I mean,” Grigg trailed off, suddenly aware of the group of women watching them. Apparently Jocelyn picked up on his discomfort, because the next minute she was herding everybody out of the living room to go play with the dogs for a while. On the way out, she mouthed a good luck at a surprised Grigg. He was going to have to talk to her later, because obviously Elias would have to be part of their lives now, now that he and Grigg were… were…

“Grigg?” Elias’ voice roused him. “Do you have an answer, now it is just us?”

“Elias, I…” Grigg took a deep breath. He wasn’t sure what he wanted, he needed time to figure it out. But he didn’t want to hurt Elias, and he didn’t want to chase him off. “Look, I like you. And I’m attracted to you.” His eyes roamed Elias’ body: long legs, firm chest, broad shoulders, a face that became more handsome the longer you looked at it, even with the terrible moustache. “Definitely attracted to you.”

“Then everything is good?” Elias asked.

“I mean, yes. Yes, in theory everything is good. Even without this… mates thing, if you’d just asked me out, I probably would have said yes. But this is… this is huge. And overwhelming. And… and huge.”

Elias glanced down at himself. “Yes, I know it is very large. But there have been no complaints. I have pleasured many omegas-”

Grigg held up a hand again. “I didn’t mean… wait, how big?” He shook himself. “Never mind, not the point. I meant, we’ve only known each other a few months and now we’re soulmates? It’s too fast, Elias. Even if we’re a perfect biological match, I barely know you. I don’t want to jump into a relationship just because of some weird alpha/omega quirk.”

“So, you are saying…” Elias looked at him questioningly, “what are you saying?”

“I think… I’m saying I’d like to try this. But I’d like to go slow, to get to know you, instead of just jumping into bed and letting you knot me. Would that be ok?”

Elias took his hand and rubbed his thumb across the knuckles. “I have thought about knotting you often while touching myself.”

Grigg had to bite back a moan. “Jesus, Elias, that’s not slow.”

“I have thought about it,” the alpha continued, “but I am happy not to do it until you are ready. I think I would wait a long time for you, Grigg.”

Grigg smiled. “Thank you, Elias.”

“I will not touch you until you want me to. But I hope I will be allowed to continue touching myself, as I find I need to do so quite often. I-”

“Oh god, you’re going to be impossible, aren’t you?” Grigg laughed. “I didn’t say you couldn’t touch me. A kiss might be a good way to start.”

Elias beamed, and then the next moment looked nervous. “Grigg, even though I have kissed very many omegas, and I am sure this kiss will be wonderful…”

Grigg leaned into him and smiled. “Don’t worry, the first one doesn’t have to be perfect.”

The funny thing was though, as Grigg parted Elias’ lips with his tongue, and felt strong arms come up to hold him tight, he really couldn’t imagine a more perfect first kiss than this.

Eventually they parted for breath, grinning stupidly at each other, and Grigg found enough wits to say, “Remember that thing I said about going slow?”

“Yes.”

“Turns out I’m willing to negotiate.”

[therealjammy]

Blood Isn’t So Easily Washed Away

Here, have a little thing from an unfinished fic of mine in honor of Root Day. (This fic was going somewhere, and then the more I wrote the more I realised it wasn’t going anywhere. Oops.) 

Her warm, still-elevated breathing puffed against your exposed ear as you washed the blood from her arm and hand underneath warm water. Her hand was shaking and it brought to life earlier sounds, from when you’d dug a bullet from her upper arm, close to her shoulder. The movement of running your hand over her skin to wash away the blood tramped on the warm feeling expanding in your gut but you knew as soon as she was dry and given a glass of water you would want to press your mouth to hers, or to her neck, or lower. These days your body still had moments where it wouldn’t obey you and no matter how many times you told it not to latch onto the sounds Root made it played them for you on repeat until the quarter-note throb between your thighs matched the rhythm in your head.

           “You should eat something,” you said, turning the faucet off and reaching for the hand towel to pat her arm dry. “When was the last time you ate?”

           “Eight hours ago,” Root replied softly. She was watching you with a fascinated look on her face, something that always happened when you patched her up. “I think I want Chinese.”

           You nodded, mopping up the last droplets. Before you dropped her hand you checked on the bandage over the wound, making sure it was taped properly and securely. You’d pressed hard against it, minutes earlier, eliciting a hiss from Root. Her eyes were still dark from it, but she made no move to act on whatever she was feeling.

           “Orange chicken and fried rice with egg?”

           She pulled her shirtsleeve down, careful not to brush the wound. “That’ll be nice.”

             You had your arms wrapped around Root’s waist for once, the wind whipping past your bodies and the bike at high speed, rushing in the cracks underneath your helmet and sounding like a snapping flag. She made sharp turns that caused that jumping sensation in your gut that sometimes happened when you fell from high heights. Not fear, just the sensation that the ground was coming to greet you sooner than you thought it would. With each turn you felt a leg shift on the footrests and the flex of abdominal muscles to keep herself situated on the bike. You felt her concentration humming hotly underneath her leather jacket as she wove through traffic, horns blaring behind you that Root paid no heed. She was determined to get to the safe house in Queens in one piece after what happened at an upstate server farm and you were in such a rush to escape the hail of bullets and the threat of an imminent explosion that you hadn’t checked her over for new wounds. The only one you were aware of was a bullet graze on your left thigh. It caused your jeans to stick to your skin, the blood acting like glue.

           Once again you found yourselves taking the long way there, taking several detours, and by the time you arrived at the safe house it was well past eight at night, the sun already gone. You tore yourself away from Root’s back, your breathing a little harsher than you’d originally thought, and unlocked the front door. Root followed close behind, helmet resting against her hip and underneath her right elbow, wavy hair mussed, leathers shining in the lights as they were turned on one by one. It wasn’t an unattractive look, nor were the glasses that sat perched on her nose, still looking perfect despite the earlier mess.

           “Let me help with that, Sameen,” Root said softly, jerking her chin towards your thigh. She followed you into the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe and watching you peel out of your jeans. You would ask her about her wounds later. “I’ve had a little more practice.”

           “If it needs stitches, I get to do them,” you said, inhaling sharply when unbending your leg sent a jolt of pain up into your hip and to your spine. There was a small smile playing at her mouth now, something you hadn’t seen in a while. The strange feeling inside that had been building uncoiled itself into something more pleasant. You gestured underneath the sink, where the medical kit was. She unlocked it and gathered the necessary materials, kneeling beside your leg, cold, gloved fingers barely touching your skin. The wound was still seeping blood and the circumference of it was an angry red. Gently, she dabbed at it with a hot wash cloth and alcohol swabs.

           “Is this the only one you have?”

           Your eyes glanced at her, focused on cleaning, her mouth inches away from the clean patch of skin next to the wound. Her breath was warm. You replied, “Yeah.” The last bit of the wound stung when it met the heat of the washcloth. “Any new wounds for you?”

           “For once I came out unscathed,” Root said, pleased. “Guess we’re in for a bit of role reversal.”

           You huffed at the suggestive note in her comment, a smile threatening to tug the corners of your mouth up. It wasn’t, you admitted, a terrible idea. It was welcome, even. Sometimes you liked to make her wait, and she was vocal in her pleas and twitchy in her impatience. And she let you take the reins, because she knew you wouldn’t do anything to hurt her or take her too far away from her comfort zone.

           “Does it need stitches?”

           You examined it. The first part of the wound was deeper than the second and years of medical experience whispered that you ought to put them in, just to be on the safe side. A guess was three, maybe four. With a sigh, you reached for the metal box and prepared needle and stitches, not bothering to inject a local anaesthetic. Root backed off at this point, still uneasy around needles even just watching. Instead she peeled off her leather jacket and shirt and wiped away dirt and grime with another wet washcloth, being mindful of the taped bandage still in place near her shoulder.

[rachel-alderson]

The Dinosaur Knight

I'm just going to start this post by saying that I've been posting the wrong name for this game all along! Well, it's not completely wrong, and it's not that I didn't know what it was called, but because I have a few client jobs I always just use something simple and easy to differentiate each project, so for this project that was 'Fusion Earth'. So just to clear things up, it's actually called 'Escape from Fusion Earth' which makes much more sense and something that should've clicked when I wrote the first post! Oops, sorry Riley! 

I hope that you guys are enjoying these posts introducing you to the Escape from Fusion Earth world and characters whilst also showing you the process behind the 2D art in the game. I feel like this project and the client have really encouraged me to push my creativity, ideas and techniques to take my work to the next level, which is always exciting because I felt at a stage in my work where I really needed a challenge and this project has been perfect for that. The project as a whole has challenged me and each character design has challenged me in it’s own way too, and the Dinosaur Knight was tough in areas that others weren’t and because of those obstacles it’s turned out to be one of my favourite illustrations I’ve done to date. So let’s get into it!

Now, anyone that knows me or has been familiar with my work for the past 2 years at least will know that I absolutely adore dinosaurs, I have always been fascinated by them since I was a kid, but only about 2 years ago did I start drawing them, this was when I finally got my head screwed on a bit and realised that I should be drawing what makes me happy, not what makes other people happy or want to give me likes on instagram. The dinosaurs I’d been drawing is partly what landed me the chance to work on Escape from Fusion Earth in the first place, and because I am so genuinely passionate about dinosaurs, I’ve always been into learning about them, new discoveries, reading about their defence features etc. which means that I had already built up quite a lot of information and sketches to give me a starting point for this particular card. However, as you can tell from the title, the dinosaur wasn’t the only character for this card, there was another character that needed to be designed, and that was the Dinosaur Knight himself.

When I started sketching the character, he was actually listed on the Escape from Fusion Earth document as ‘Dinosaur Savages’ (I’ll explain the name change later in this post). So I started to think about what this guys armour and weapons would look like, how would he protect himself? What kind of weapon would he have? What tools would he use to craft his gear? How would he sew the armour together? etc. It’s helpful to ask all of these questions and create a backstory for the character because it 100% helps you get a better idea of the character and who they are, how they should look, and it also helps to create a character story for the viewer, leading the viewer to discover through the design of the character how they got to where they are now. I sketched down quite a few ideas based off the brainstorms and thoughts that I’d had, and kind of felt in my element. Although both I and the client were happy with the character designs, there was just something not quite right.

It took us a while to work it out, but after a lot of sketching and ideas, my client, who is also a creative in the industry which is always super helpful when you need a fresh set of eyes, suggested that he was too similar to the Zombie Viking. On the surface people might not see that, but I completely got what he meant, when you’re a character designer, you know that the most important element of a successful character design is the silhouette. So even though the Dinosaur Savage was unique, I could instantly see without even creating filling in his silhouette that his shape and build was too similar to the Zombie Viking, so it was back to the drawing board! My client came up with the suggestion to have the human character as more of a knight, which would immediately create a much more unique character and create a bigger contrast between him and the Zombie Viking. I’ve never drawn a knight before, so I spent a couple of days researching real knights and knight armour, but I knew that I also wanted this knight to have a more stylised look, so I also got a lot of reference from games such as Heroes of the Storm and League of Legends, along with rooting through old sketchbooks for ideas.

I drew up quite a few ideas, and really liked two of the more refined ideas. I think that the one on the left still tied into the savage idea a little, his armour looked handmade and he looks like he has used a lot of found items, which wasn’t a problem now that he was clearly a knight. The one on the right looks a lot more gritty and dark, which wasn’t the direction I intended to take but after sketching him up I really liked the way he looked. The client was happy with both, and happy for me to go with which ever I felt was best. I was very keen on going with the knight on the left, but I knew that I wanted to try something different and felt like the guy on the right looked a lot more threatening, and I could imagine that if he was coming towards you, you’d feel a lot more worried. I also realise that he has no way to see through his helmet, but I kinda like that because I think it gives it a fantasy feeling, sort of as if he’s this cursed knight who just rides around and always hits his target.

Obviously now he needed his dinosaur companion, I was pretty confident in my ideas and where I wanted to go with it, so just drew up some rough sketches. Initially I drew up the dinosaur above, but the client made a good point about the card being portait so it would be better to have a bipedal dinosaur. I started thinking he either needed a big chunk dinosaur with a lot of power, like an even more bulked out T-Rex or a fast dinosaur such as a super sized raptor, I’d also drawn this dinosaur a while ago, sort of based on a T-Rex but with a really over exaggerated strong looking jaw which has loads of teeth sticking out everywhere, which was the one I decided to go with in the end. Of course he had to have a little skull helmet too!

When it came to designing the actual card, it was a little tricky getting the composition right as the client had a really awesome idea and wanted to make it look like the dinosaur was about to attack the viewer. After sketching up a few rough examples, I realised that it was difficult trying to fit such a pose on a portrait illustration, if it was landscape it would’ve worked perfectly, but these cards are portrait so I had to try something else. Instead, I went with a pose where the dinosaur is sprinting along and the knight has pulled him back as if to stop the dinosaur or slow him down. I felt like it fit in the frame better but was still a powerful post at the same time. The colouring of this piece was pretty straight forward, I used one of my dinosaur books to get a reference idea for the pattern on the dinosaur and then changed the colours up a little, using complimentary colours for the dinosaur and the knight. I’ve recently started learning more about digital painting and concept art for games, I obviously use a lot of line work in my work but I’m interested in trying to pull away from that a little and get a more concept art feeling across in my work, so painted in the birds just to try something new and feel like they give the illustration that extra pop and make it feel a little magical.

Cheers for reading guys, I'll be sharing another card next week, there's something a little different about the next character though....