#i used to have to throw the shades of blue and purple on one by one like individually now i just chose a blue and set some hue jitter

[astranauticus]

so turns out my newfound appreciation of hue jitter on brushes comes with a newfound need to name my custom brushes because i keep accidentally selecting the versions of brushes i made with hue jitter and then feeling like im losing my mind when the colours just dont come out correctly

[headspace-hotel]

Minecraft 1.20 thoughts:

The highlight is, of course, the cherry blossom grove biome and cherry trees. The cherry wood just looks SO GOOD with everything. I've made so many builds incorporating it already and it's so easy to work into a color scheme. Cherry wood. Hhhhhnnnnghh. Such a delicious shade of pink. I want to eat it.

Also really excited about the bamboo wood set, it looks amazing and adds a lot of functionality to bamboo.

Feeling pretty positively about the armor trims, though I wish there were more where the decorative material was more dominant in the color scheme.

Trail ruins and archaeology: Mixed feelings. I think archaeology is a fun mechanic, I like exploring the trail ruins, but they really, really turn inventory management into an absolute nightmare.

There are many different varieties of pottery sherds, I think at least 20. Sherds of different types do not stack. There are 4 armor trims that can be dropped by suspicious gravel in trail ruins. Trims of different types do not stack. The trail ruin structures themselves include many different varieties of terracotta and glazed terracotta, (at least 6 different colors of each) and—you guessed it!—each type stacks separately.

Additionally, suspicious gravel in trail ruins may drop any of several colors of candle (I have found red, purple, green, brown, and blue candles) and any of several colors of glass pane. The process of digging the ruin out will fill your inventory with at least 6 stacks of gravel as well as a lot of dirt, coarse dirt, cobblestone, and flint.

To top it all off, unless you want to enchant your brush with Unbreaking, you will need to carry multiple brushes because the brush breaks before the ruin is fully cleared.

Even with multiple shulker boxes clearing a ruin fully in one trip is impossible. What were the devs even thinking??? Are we expected to throw away the candles and other "junk" drops and ignore the glazed terracotta, mud bricks, and other tedious-to-obtain blocks in the structure itself?

This update shares with 1.19 the bizarre attribute of the devs supposedly being very focused on the player experience, while seemingly not noticing key parts of the player experience. The new mechanics and features in both have some incredibly fun and engaging elements to them but also some glaring problems.

I'm pretty much just indifferent to the clay pots? They would be more fun if they incorporated some basic colored patterns and/or actually could be used for something.

Changes to sign editing, and hanging signs are both fantastic.

The "Netherite Upgrade" is shit and I'm not sorry to say it.

Like...netherite is already so incredibly tedious and difficult to obtain that it's almost not worth bothering with. 4 ancient debris is needed to craft a single netherite ingot. You need 16 ancient debris to upgrade a full diamond armor set to netherite, and 8 more if you want to upgrade a sword and one pickaxe. If you don't have Mending on all of them, basically go fuck yourself, because from that point you will need multiple netherite ingots to repair a piece of equipment in the same way you would need multiple diamonds to repair diamond equipment. All of this for a set of equipment that will be fucking gone if you die and can't recover it.

And yet the devs have decided to??? fucking...add a generic, painfully uncharismatic new item to provide another barrier to obtaining netherite gear? because it's too easy or something???

I haven't broken into the other new additions very much, but I will try to obtain a sniffer egg soon...

[officialrocketjumper]

HOWDY EVERYONE- so excited to FINALLY be able to show off my piece for this year's Bumbleby Big Bang!

Unfortunately no accompanying story as of yet- but I really hope you guys get to read it someday! The premise involves Yang cursed to be trapped inside a sword, which was an idea I KNEW I had to make move.

Details and development stuff under the cut!

Lots of fun collaboration with the author, Celeste! We worked together to find the look-of-picture, Blake's outfit, how the Grimm look, the style of the sword, the whole shabang! I'm really happy with how it all turned out!

When I first saw all the prompts, even before claims opened, I got to work on a handful of exploration pieces based on some of the summaries, to decide which of the stories I was interested in would be the best fit. Here's the initial idea for this one I put together over a lunch break:

After showing Celeste, we got to work finding the look we wanted! Went back and forth a bit and found this great look for Blake! Also shoutout to Pinterest boards for visdev inspiration I love you Pinterest boards.

Just about everything stayed to final anim, with the simplification of getting rid of that purple cloth hanging from her belt, (since I already had the rope ends to think about working with), and the light purple strap across the chest, since leaving it out would simplify the linework on her chest.

The sword also went through a bit of change! Celeste had the idea of Yang making the sword catch on fire, which I LOVED. I went with a split design so we can see the fire more clearly start from the hilt and grow to cover the whole blade.

And from there we brainstormed animation ideas! I went all over Youtube for video reference of sword work (that would be complex enough to be interesting, but short enough to be manageable). I found something we liked from Motion Actor Inc., a channel I've used LOTS for both personal and professional work (I work in 3D Animation, for those who don't know). I edited this together, to see the action from multiple places at once, which gave me the idea for that camera move that's in the final anim!

Now for the fun part! Make that badboy MOVE. For the cam turn, the first frame she's in the air I'm referencing the top left video, and the frame she lands I'm referencing the bottom left one. While she's airborne I'm just inbetweening that! No reference for the Grimm, just wanted it responding to her attacks, but I end up tweaking the roughs later on to make the block feel stronger.

Then from there we had to actually figure out Grimm designs! Nimona had just released, and Celeste and I loved it, so she asked if I could take some inspiration from Nimona's shadow form! GLADLY. Here's what I came up with!

I was going between how the movies and comic designed Nimona, really loving the almost liquid shadow of the movie, but also how the comics had this broken up/held together rougher form. Celeste liked the second to last one the best! The original plan was to have it leave a wispy shadow trail like the concept art, but to simplify the animation we left it solid instead!

Next up is tiedown! Basically just getting the roughs more on-model, so the lineart comes out nice and clean. I've also transferred the new Grimm design to the base from earlier, and fire's also outlined orange so it reads clearer. (SPOILER- if you look REAL close here, you can see Yang visible in the fire! I liked the idea of Blake's slash also doubling as Yang throwing a punch. The idea is in the concept art earlier but now it's working with the action.)

Next step- final look of picture!! I asked Celeste for sources of inspiration to draw from when thinking about environment design, and we got Nimona, She-Ra, and Owl House! Used each of those as springboards for shading style, colour palettes, and how the fire would look!

From there, we kept the straight trees/bush/lake/foreground greenery from the first one, the blues from the second, and the fire from the third!

Once I had this frame, it was a matter of working backwards and making the background work pre-camera turn (which was ABSOLUTELY the most challenging part of this process). Learned a lot doing this! Procreate isn't quite equipped to make something like this efficient, but I'm pleased to say that Dreams would make something like this easier in the future (keyframing objects instead of hand-drawing/spacing duplicates by hand, for example).

From then on it was just colouring the lineart, adding shading, and finishing up the background! Beginning-to-end this whole process was beginning of July to end of October!

I had an absolute BLAST putting all this together. Here's to next year where I find a way to do something even more ridiculously complicated!! It's fun!!!

[thebucketpail]

When You Accidentally Kill a Clown pt.4

Alright bestie you know the drill. Uh, this one's a bit longer than usual though. Enjoy?

Pt.1

To say Danny was having a bad day would be the understatement of the century. Well it wasn’t really a bad ‘day’ more like a terrible series of events that just kept getting worse. Oddly enough, though, this terrible horrible day did not start with killing the Joker, then promptly getting interrogated by a surprisingly cute serial killer/ crime boss/ vigilante. In fact it actually started seven hours earlier at around 4 o’clock in the afternoon. Danny’s roommate had practically kicked him out of the dorm so he could have ‘date night with his girlfriend’ but it was said in a way that made Danny nope out of there real fast.

‘It’s fine, I’ll just use this time to explore Gotham a bit,” he thought to himself. Turns out Gotham, with its incredibly high crime rate and massive amount of curses - seriously? How could one city be this cursed- has a lot of ghosts. Ghosts that seem to be very happy someone can see them. This would have been fine, Danny would have been happy to help, If they hadn’t swarmed him.

Mere moments after he had addressed a shade Danny had found themself in the middle of a mob, shades, imprints, spirits, etc, all vying for attention, help with something here, or just plain attention.

It took them 3 hours to lose the mob.

And it wasn’t even all of them, a few blob ghosts clung to him as he explored the piers, shades following at his heels, weaving in and out of shadows bringing general bad luck because of course, why not.

Danny just wanted a scoop of icecream? Sorry it fell on the floor. Oh look at that his shoes are untied, would be a shame if he- ouch that must have hurt. Just trying to sit on a bench and relax? Aww that's a cute seagull, here have some of Danny’s pretzel. Okay thats enough- ow what the fuck? Ack no stop! stop-!

So yeah, exploring the pier turned out to be not the most safe idea for all the strangest reasons. Danny had to leave before the shades did any real damage like throwing him into the bay, or splitting the boardwalk underneath him.

Danny had just lost yet another pack of attention seeking ghosts when he felt the eyes. It was the uncomfortable prickling that made the hair on his arms and neck stand on end. “Just find a place to get dinner, it’ll be fine," he thought, quickening his pace toward the batburger he had designated on a map he’d found at the pier.

Now what Danny didn’t know, being new to town and all, was that Park Row was not a place you should be walking by yourself, at night, with black hair and blue eyes. That was just asking for trouble, and oh boy trouble they got. Before a single thought could flash through their head, Danny had been pulled into an alley, a large figure pinning their hands behind their back. Danny twisted around, trying to gain purchase and maybe get a look at their attackers face, but stiffened as they spoke, low and gruff.

“Awww what’re you doing in crime alley all alone kiddie?” he crooned, “Don’t you know it's not safe?” Danny’s growing panic reached a peak as another figure melted out of the shadows of the dingy alley, “Boss, what do you think? He could be a Wayne." The ‘Boss’ leaned forward to inspect Illuminated by a nearby streetlight. Danny’s eyes blew wide at the painted white face, impossibly huge smile, puke green hair, and pristine purple suit in front of him.

He hardly heard him berate the goon

“This isn’t a Wayne you imbecile, it's just some random street rat” Hey

“But- he could be, he fits the bill,” the conversation drowned out as Danny stared, stock still. They could feel the ectoplasm in their blood pooling at their fingertips, the tingling sensation sending prickles down their spine.

The last thought that crossed their mind before a flash of green enveloped the alley was; ‘Fuck, I hate clowns.’

When the light died down they were free, the goon a few feet away on the ground, eyes wide in shock or horror, they couldn’t tell. Danny, eyes no doubt still glowing, followed his gaze to the crumpled purple mass at his feet. Oh shit.

“You- you- I’m getting out of here,” the goon shouted, pointing a shaking finger at him as he scrambled away. Danny just stared down at the clown in shock. Sure he’d fought a lot of dead people but ancients he’d never killed someone himself. Taking a deep breath he tried remembering those grounding tricks Jazz had taught him to ward off panic. He focused on his breathing, closing his eyes as the steady rhythm of his too slow heart beat in his ears. After a few moments he exhaled deeply, running a shaking hand through his hair as the other reached for his phone.

And, well, we know this part.

-------

It was almost 1 am by the time Hood got Danny back to their dorm. They had of course protested that they didn’t need the escort and it's all fine- because truly Danny had no intentions of returning to their dorm- but Hood had insisted, continuing the interrogation as they walked.

“Do you have any siblings”

“two”

“Where are you from?”

“illinois”

“What's your favorite color?”

“Green probably”

At the very least the questioning served to calm Danny’s nerves and distract them from the less-than-happy thoughts. There was also something about Hood that made Danny’s core pull in his chest. Aside from very obviously smelling like death- something he had chalked up to being a serial killer/ crime boss/ vigilante - the man kept making his ghost sense go off, but it always caught in his throat rather than escaping. Danny had almost choked the first time and it was starting to get annoying, it reminded him of being around Vlad. It piqued his interest regardless.

So when the noises coming through the door confirmed that; no, Danny should not go try entering his dorm and that he would definitely not be getting what little sleep his body could manage after the night’s events, he decided on some reconnaissance. Because if he wasn’t getting sleep, he would be at least getting answers for that weird feeling. He let invisibility wash over him and retraced his steps back to the building entrance. Hood was long gone but it didn’t matter. Danny soon took to the sky, staying low enough he wasn’t breathing in the dense clouds

of smog but still high enough to scan the streets from above the rooftops.

It felt amazing honestly. He hadn’t been able to fly since before he got to Gotham, and while it the air wasn’t as clean and the sky wasn’t a glowing blanket of stars like it was in Amity, but with the rush of wind, subtle glow of the street lights, and the soft din of night traffic, it still reminded him of home. In a way it was peaceful, if you discounted the ever present police sirens, occasional pop of gunfire, and general filthiness of the city.

As Danny wove through the street and alleys of Gotham he couldn’t help but to think about his hometown. He knew Amity would be protected of course. The GIW hadn’t been a threat since the Meta Human protection acts were passed, even though ghosts weren’t considered metas the investigation had been enough to disband the agency. His parents probably couldn't pose too much of a threat to any ghosts, especially with the portal being closed (he'd made Valerie promise to keep it shut, since she'd decided to stay in Amity), and even if someone from his rogues gallery managed to make it through, Red Huntress was more than capable to handle it.

Jazz had even managed to drill it into their head that Danny wasn’t responsible for the protection of Amity, as much as they thought they were. Being a hero didn’t make them happy, at least not in the way they were. Danny actually loved helping people, and fighting his rouges on occasion. But being Phantom was so stressful, the late nights, the missed school, the barely dodged calls to cps, it was all so much. So Danny had given up Phantom just in time to start senior year. Granted it was a little late to completely turn his academic career around, but he made an effort and now he’s studying Engineering at Gotham University on a near complete scholarship from the Wayne foundation. All of this though and Danny still felt an inkling of worry for his town, even if it was in capable hands. He was working on it though.

He knew back at the start of senior year that he wouldn’t be able to hang up Phantom forever, afterall he was a part of Danny that couldn’t be ignored (it would quite literally be detrimental to his health), that and the fact that he existed on the precipice of life and death meant he would always have some ghost or another vying for his attention. One of his regulars wanting a fight, someone new deciding they want to test his mettle, or just a lower powered ghost wanting some help, and as long as it didn’t affect his schedule too much or get him too high on the Bats radar Danny would be happy to oblige.

So he didn’t mind it much when, after he’d started losing hope in finding Hood - Damn that guy can disappear- he felt his ghost sense go off. The sharp air escaped his lungs in a sudden gasp, never failing to stop his chest for a moment. Danny felt the ice melt in his mouth as he scanned the streets for whomever had set it off. He couldn’t see anything but something- someone- was pulling at his core, beckoning him to a nearby rooftop.

There wasn't anything special about this particular building, just an old beat down 24/7 convenience store. Danny flew around it a few times before landing gently on the roof’s edge. They didn't know what they should be looking for as the area seemed to be entirely empty. But his confusion proved to be short lived when the surrounding shadows seemingly condensed in front of them. The dim and flickering neon sign to their left somehow got dimmer and more flickery, and what little moonlight that had wormed its way through the thick clouds was all but swallowed by the swirling mass of shadow.

The massive shadow was towering almost three feet over Danny by the time it began taking shape. And it wasn’t quite humanoid, but the flowing gown and veil reminded them of a mourning widow. Her eye glowed a flickering grey, and her skin was made of the same shadow as her gown. She was beautiful, Danny’s breath caught in their throat. They didn’t know why, but they dropped to one knee, bowing their head to the shadowy figure.

The woman chuckled, a sweet chirping sound that echoed and reverberated around the rooftop. When she spoke, her voice was just more than a whisper, yet sweet and full, even behind that recognisable Jersey accent, “Rise child.” Danny obeyed. “You are powerful, young one, I can see it in you.” Her eyes flickered to Danny’s chest, hovering just where his core sat. “You are the ghost child from Amity, yes? I’ve heard much about you and your exploits. I must say, not many could go toe to toe with Pariah Dark and come out victorious.”

Danny’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth as he nodded, “It was difficult, but I had help.”

The woman hummed, “Even still. Is it true he still exists? In the forever sleep, you have not yet consumed his core?”

“I- no I have not,” Danny said. This was another of those things Danny had decided to ignore. A few months after they had locked Pariah away the Observants had tracked him down at school, resulting in a panicked request for the bathroom and a whole week of strife. Apparently, according to ghost politics, Danny had become heir to the crown of the ghost king. All that belonged to Pariah was now Danny’s, won in single combat. And if the news that he would become the new King of The Infinite Realms wasn’t enough, he had also been informed that to take the throne he would have to consume Pariah’s core, just as he had done when he won the throne from his predecessor.

This news had overloaded Danny’s brain and he had spent the past three years pointedly ignoring that fact about his half life. He’d get around to it… eventually. Luckily three years wasn’t much time for immortal floating eyeballs so it hadn’t become much of an issue. But he’d run out of time and would have to face the music at some point.

“But it is true that Pariah still exists, in eternal slumber for the time being.” He continued, squirming under the woman’s scrutinous gaze, “Ah, but if you don’t mind me asking, who are you?”

This elicited another set of giggles from the woman, err, girl? She had shrunk to the size of a young girl in a knee length black dress, a feathered beret sitting on a curly bob of dark hair. Her giggles grew, consuming the rooftop in the joyous sound. The laughing ceased as the young girl tilted her head to the side, just a little too far for a human. A grin spread wide across her face and something sparked in her eyes.

“I am Lady Gotham, princling, I thought that was obvious…” She trailed off for a moment then continued with renewed enthusiasm, “ I heard that you are a protector of your hometown, do you intend to assist my knights while you are here?”

Lady Gotham, Danny had heard of her. The supposed amalgamation of everything that made the city what it was. A combination of the pain and suffering as well as the fierce stubbornness and love of those who called the city home. Being a spirit she wasn’t seen often in the Ghost Zone, but those who passed through the veil brought stories of their protectoress. A Lady fierce, vindictive and unforgiving to those she considered an enemy. A being that collected curses like postage stamps. But also one who cared deeply for her city, and even more so for her knights who cared for her just as much.

Danny felt humbled in her presence.

He ducked his head, sheepish as he answered her, “My apologies my Lady, I have long since hung up my cape to pursue the remainder of my life. But should you call for my help I will not hesitate to do all in my power to aid you, or your knights.”

Lady Gotham hummed, pleased, “I appreciate the promise I will keep it in mind. After all, just tonight you have already helped my city so much. I want you to know that no matter how it may weigh on you; what you did was good. By taking his life you saved countless more, accident or no. And for that I thank you.” Stunned, Danny nodded. “I am afraid I must depart now, holding form isn’t difficult but I must say it makes it harder to spread my shadows. I wish you the best princling.” The girl before him smiled then melted -like actually melted- into a pool of shadow at Danny’s feet. As the cloud dissipated, the faint light of the convenience store returned, casting a dim staticky glow.

Danny stood mulling over her words for a few moments before laying down on the roof’s edge. The silence was punctuated only by the faint buzzing of electricity emitted from the neon sign, but it did little to distract him from the thoughts he’s been running from all night.

The thought that he had actually killed someone.

What Lady Gotham hada said was probably true, the Joker's death was a good riddance, he had killed tens-of-thousands, and probably tens-of-thousands more. Taking him out of the equation was a good thing. But that didn’t change the fact that Danny had killed him. Danny had never killed a person before, not directly at least. He wasn’t deaf to the notion that some people may have died during one of his ghost fights, in fact he was painfully aware of each person he had failed to save. But he had never been at direct fault for a murder until now. It shook him to the bones.

Did this make him a murderer?

He stewed in these thoughts for hours, only being pulled from them by an inkling of sunlight breaking through the towering buildings hitting his eyes. Groaning, he sat up, painfully aware of how tired he was. “Probably not getting any sleep though” He could feel the bags under his eyes growing with the lack of sleep. However he did manage to get off the roof and transform back into his living form, ‘need coffee’ He thought blearily as he began making his way down the street, maybe he’d find a shop or something.

What he did not expect was to be pulled into an alley for the second time that night (Morning? Oh what does it matter he’s getting mugged).

Their assailant, no more than two inches shorter than Danny with an unkempt beard and suspiciously stained shirt, had them pinned to the wall, a knife at their throat.

“Empty your pockets!” he shouted, digging the knife further against their skin. Danny suppressed a yawn, they really did not have enough energy to deal with this. Luckily they didn’t have to. The rumbling of a motorcycle filled the air as a blur of red and black turned into the alley. The mugger barely had time to shout “Hey!” before Red Hood decked him in the face.

“Twice in eight hours?” He asked, the grin almost audible in his voice as Hood tied up the man, “I know you’re not from here, but that’s still gotta be some kind of record,” Honestly Danny would have been more upset if he wasn’t so tired, but even so;

“Wee it’s not like I’m Trying to get attacked. I just wanted some fucking coffee,” he ground out.

“At four in the morning?”

“It’s almost six,” Danny muttered after sneaking a quick glimpse at his watch - a black digital one with little blob ghosts on it, a gift from Dani. “Besides it’s not like I was planning on sleeping anytime soon,” he continued. That same weird feeling from earlier tugged at his core during the silence that followed. Of there being a ghost nearby, but his cold gasp getting caught in his throat before escaping. Danny could almost feel the thrum of another core, but there was something muffling it. It made Danny wrinkle his nose.

Despite his wish to investigate the fact of Hood’s weird probably-a-core, Danny also really wanted to get out of this awkward situation. But hey it seemed like Hood was stalking him anyway so this probably wouldn’t be his only chance.

“I should probably be going now,” they said, moving to exist the grimy alley, stepping over the unconscious form of his would-be-mugger-#2. “Don’t worry, I’ll be a bit more careful this time,” They threw over their shoulder with a grin before leaving.

A weight settled on their shoulder as they walked away. Ancients this night was eventful. Hopefully their roommate was finally finished with ‘date night’ enough to allow Danny a couple hours of sleep. But first; coffee.

+++++

Humans I am so sorry for this chapter (because yes it's a chapter). I was just going to write another little installment from Danny’s Pov and then ended up with over 3k words which is like adding up the word counts of all three other chapters. But i think it turned out good so win some lose some. Anyway, all the exposition is out of the way so we’ll be going back to silly goofy fun times now. Also sorry about the kind-of angst, I didn’t mean to, it just appeared.

What were your thoughts on Lady Gotham? I’m fairly happy with how I wrote her, she will definitely be returning

No I will not add you to the tag list, I don't mean to be mean but I just down have the brain power for that <3

Subscrib to the Ao3

Pt 5

[fjordline]

ok i've been thinking about how to answer The Color Asks for so long now. Once I start talking about colors I never stop, it seems. This is just me attempting to explain my personal thought process and not any universal rules or anything like that.

None of this is going to look very realistic at all. You need to exaggerate a little. That being said, having fundamental knowledge on how shadows and ligh tsources work is very useful. Know the rules before breaking them and all that.

Boiled down to its basics, what I think of is: if a lightsource is cold toned, make the highlight bright blue. if a light source is warm, make the highlight bright orange. Then contrast the light with a complementary shadow color that does not compete for dominance with the light. Or alternatively make the light source more neutral with a complimentary tone for the shaded areas and then add a highly saturated color in the deepest shadows. Having both a highly saturated light source and a shadow color will compete with each other, instead choose one to be the dominant and one to be the um. submissive i suppose.

Just using a random doodle from my sketchbook for the purpose of throwing some color on:

^^^ Here the midtones and the areas in the shade are predominantly of a low saturated cool blueish tone, while the highlight is stark and warm with orange and red light bouncing off. The orange and red hues you often see in skin that is lit by a strong light is called subsurface scattering (sss), one of the most important concepts in art IMO. It livens things up so much.

^^^Opposite from image 1, here the shaded area is a saturated golden color while the light source is a dull blue with hints of more vivid blue throughout. the blue balances the strong yellows and browns. Since the shaded area is bigger than the highlighted area, the subject matter could look quite monochromatic without the blue hints.

^^^Get wild with it. Lets say your highlight is blue toned: instead of just using a blue, introduce purple, teal, turquoise, ultramarine, cyan, etc around where the light is hitting. Add several light sources in different colors, make it not make sense, get crazy.

Though what is important above all else is that the image reads clearly. Unless you're doing abstract art then you'd probably want the audience to understand what they're looking at. That's where values come in, probably the number one cause of confusing pieces of art. If you can turn the painting black and white and still see the subject matter clearly then the values are good.

I find that i love using colors that most people find garish, especially when they're on their own, for small highlights and points of interest. When paired with other more neutral colors, a bright orange or a chartreuse etc can really brighten up a painting. And colors are never what they seem, the human eye will interpret colors differently depending on what color they are next to. Make full use of this.

Hope this long ass post helps anyone who is struggling with color, I know I used to struggle severely myself xoxo

[pro-gamer-moves]

Couldn’t get this idea out of my head, so here’s the Chain waking up and putting on makeup.

Time was woken, as usual, by the sounds of chaos.

“Give it back!”

“I just want to borrow it! Use one of your other four shades!”

“No, I need all of them! Give me back my eyeliner!”

Ooh. The “e” word. That was never good.

Time reluctantly sat up, rubbing his eyes. “What’s the problem, boys?”

Four ran over to him while pointing angrily at Wind, who was standing on top of a stump at the edge of camp. “Wind took my blue eyeliner and he won’t give it back!”

Wind stomped his foot. “I’m going to give it back, I just need to use it really quick!”

“No, you can’t! If you use just the blue it will run out faster than the others and I won’t be able to replace them all at the same time!”

“That’s a stupid reason!”

Time held up his hand before the argument could continue. “Calm down guys. Wind, give Four his eyeliner back, you can use mine.”

Wind pouted and marched over, reluctantly handing the eyeliner back to Four. “Yours won’t match my tunic though. If I wanted boring black I would have used my own.”

Time raised his eyebrow and reached into his makeup bag. “Who says I only have black?”

Multiple heads turned. Warriors spoke up from where he and Legend were hunched over Legend’s Mirror Shield. “But you only ever wear black!”

Time chuckled. “I only ever wear black now. The things I put on my face in my younger days… Besides, I have enough color as it is with these markings.”

He handed Wind the blue eyeliner he had bought in Zora’s Domain and started applying his own foundation. He was running a little low on the good stuff with the moisturizer, he would have to start using his backup bottle soon.

Wild burst out of the bushes, lips purple and parts of his hair dyed to match. “Guys! I found these great berries! Don’t eat them or you’ll throw up, but they stain really nicely!” He paused and looked down. “Aww, Hyrule… Green eyeshadow again? Mix it up a bit!”

Hyrule shrugged. “I stick to what I know. Pass me the medium brush, would ya?”

Wild passed him the brush and ran over to bug Twilight, who was quietly sharing a mirror with Sky as they both did their eyes. Time smiled. It was mornings like these that really made him glad for whatever twists of fate had gathered them.

He glanced around to make sure nobody was watching, then pulled out a tin of extra-firm chuchu jelly he had traded the Troupe Leader’s Mask for after asking the Happy Mask Salesman how he got his hair so shiny. He covertly used his fingers to comb it through his bangs before anyone could notice. How he got his bangs to stick up so much was a matter of several bets among the other Links, more so than his age. If the secret got out he would never see his prized hair gel again.

Finally, he used a couple pencils to trace around the Fierce Deity markings- he used to try to hide them, until he realized the potential in artistic asymmetry. Look complete, he gathered his equipment and stood up.

“Everyone ready to go?”

“No!” Came the call from Legend. “Warriors still has to curl his lashes.”

“Shut up! If yours were this long you would curl them too!”

“Hey, I’m not judging man. Everybody is jealous of your ridiculous lashes.”

Eventually everyone was as beautiful as they wanted to be, and the Chain set off down the road. Dink had a very hard time resisting the urge to ask for their skincare routine, but eventually his burning hatred for anything hero related won out and they fought to the death again.

[celestiaras]

ft. yu q wilson x gn! reader — krisis, nijisanji en

╰₊✧ overstimulating a cute & whiny willy┊0.6k words

contains: smut!! dom reader & sub wilson┊overstimulation, dumbification, begging, pet names (pretty boy, cutie), implied receiving oral

➤ author's note: subby wilson, subby wilson, subby wilson!!!!!! wilsoneers, come get your food!!!!

you giggled in amusement at how his hips subconsciously jerked into your feather-light touches, so desperate for you to provide some more stimulation to his sensitive cock that’s already released all over your hand more times than he could count. maybe a normal person would have passed out at this point, but being a hitman and a hero, he has a lot more stamina that allows for endless amounts of teasing. besides, he was the one who got himself into this mess, so positive that he could take anything that you would throw in his way, but now he was about to eat his words as he felt his resolve weakening by your hand.

“ah… ahh… p-please…” he threw back his head into the pillow and let out another shaky moan, drool starting to seep out the corner of his mouth. he could feel himself lose all rationality and no longer knew how to think about anything that wasn’t your touch or the insatiable lust for another orgasm.

“please what, pretty boy? use your words and tell me what you want,” you smiled, almost sadistically. he really was a pretty boy though: his blue-purple eyes rolled to the back of his head, his blonde hair sticking to the side of his face from sweat, the flustered red glow that stretched from his ears to the tip of his nose, and of course, his cute cock that blushed the same shade of his face with a mess of cum and lube all over his thighs. “do you… want me to stop?”

“no, no, no, no, no—,” he sounded like he wanted to cry, there was nothing more that wanted than for the blooming pleasure to finally burst, “p-please, let me cum! please, please, let me— mmmm…!!!”

he was caught off mid-sentence when you gently began to massage his cock again, being sure to run your fingers over every sensitive spot that had him gasping, “greedy, greedy, greedy, you’re so whiny! you’ve finished so many times that we’ll probably need to throw out these sheets and buy new ones… you’re so cute! cute boys like you should get to cum however many times they want, right?”

you simply couldn’t wipe the grin off your face when he started rambling, begging, for you to keep jerking him off since his hands were too busy gripping the surrounding fabric to do it himself. he needs it, he needs it so bad, he needs you so bad, he’s pleading and hiccuping your name over and over like you were a deity for him to worship.

he doesn’t shut up until he finally spills over all over your hands, his lips forming a perfect ‘o’ shape as he shudders and sees stars flashing his vision. it was certainly the most intense one yet and you could tell by how he was panting for air afterwards and plopped over in satisfaction, not yet bothered by all of the sticky fluids on his skin that needed cleaning.

you were about to get up and run a bath for him, but he weakly held onto your wrist to stop you in your tracks. “please…” he sounded exhausted but still had a little fire of energy in him that surprised you.

“what, you want more? already? you might want to take a break…”

“no… please let me thank you…”

“oh, is that it? what a sweetheart,” you gushed, gladly indulging him and pushing him back on the bed so that he was pinned down, climbing over him to hover your dripping sex over his eager eyes, “i thought your mouth was going to be too tired after screaming so much, but if you insist~”

[fallenclan]

Related to FallenClan designs! All your designs are super amazing, what’s your simplifying process/how do you decide design for cat pelts? Cause I always struggle with simplifying/deciding how they look especially bengals and cats with white patches… thanks if you respond!

I’m ADHD and struggle with consistency and simplifying lol, though more complex designs are pretty, I lean more towards what you do w/ you’re cats as they are simple but still super pretty + it makes it easier to consistently draw them all for stuff like this! (These comic like moon updates :])

(Also hope none of this came off as offensive, it’s all meant positively! I really really admire you and your designs :])

ty for the compliments!!! very sweet ask and I shall do my best to give a good response o7

generally my method with designing characters/drawing is to just wing it. fuck it we ball basically. but i DO take a lot of inspiration from other people's warriors art, taking the time to analyze what i like about their styles and what different sorts of patterns i can use

(i also regularly consult the Clangen Sprite Guide for better looks at white patches/tortie patterns and such, highly recommend)

the first thing i decide when i'm designing a new cat is what fur texture i want them to have. i have four that I pick from (pictured below, in order), wavy, spiky, curly, and square.

i decide the fur pattern based on the cat's personality (a more stoic cat might have square fur, while someone more bubbly might have curly, or someone more excitable have spiky, so on and so on), and also based on their parents/how many cats i've designed with that fur pattern recently.

after that is snout shape, which is probably my favorite part. i love to draw cats with a very pronounced snout, not unlike an oriental shorthair, but i generally slide around between that and a more typical, stubby snout, occasionally veering off into the very square snout of a maine coon. this is also a great spot to determine how sharp you want their jaw to be, which is something that can really help set a design apart! (a couple of snout examples below)

then i usually move onto colors. i like to pick an undertone for the cat first, so i know what sort of pallate to work with. as you can see in the pictures below, ravenstar has a purple/blue undertone, and toadbelly has orange/red undertones

this helps me make all the colors look nicer together, so i don't end up doing something like making a very warm colored cat with blue-toned white patches (which would make the white patches look super cold/too bright), which can be a really cool stylistic choice, but isnt what i tend to go for

once i've drawn out the cats fur shape and picked my colors, i'll move onto the base coat. over my time of having the fallenclan blog i've discovered that having a very simple pattern underneath the normal pattern can add a lot of visual interest to a cat, and make them look less plain.

here's a good example! one of the first cats i designed, oaktuft. their pattern was super basic--one base color, plus the inside of the ears, and then the color of their patterns.

and here's another cat that i designed a little more recently--Shiverspots! you can see that even just the small change of adding a bit of a lighter color to her underbelly made a world off difference. plus my style got a lot more defined lol

i have a couple of different base patterns that i use. here's a few more examples. i've even started to experiment with more than two colors!

once i've got the base done i move onto patterns. this part can definitely be tricky; trying to make a dozen brown tabbies with short fur be distinct can be . a challenge. i like to follow the steps of what i've already designed--a cat with spiky fur might have very sharp, angular stripes, and a cat with curly fur might have much rounder ones.

i think a good rule of thumb for if your pattern feels a little too basic is just to throw some more colors in there. another shade of orange, a more pale tint to some of them, whatever. and don't be afraid to erase it and start again! sometimes a design just won't work, and thats fine :)

the final thing i do is to add little design quirks. a particularly sharp jawline, downturned eyes, a crooked smile or a gap tooth, whatever! little things can really give your cats character.

i really hope that this helped!!!

[astragreenwoode]

Made my own AU/Reboot of the Smiling Critters franchise because they deserve to be happy.

Chapter 3 was AMAZING, guys! Mob Games delivered us with the lore we were all asking for and deserved.

Also, I got my CatNap plush I pre-ordered back in December as a birthday gift to myself! I love him! I'll definitely be ordering DogDay once I secure another job for myself.

So, I was thinking about all the shows I used to love as a kid; Care Bears, My Little Pony, Blues Clues, etc. I realized the whole appeal of the Smiling Critters was that it reminded us of being carefree kids. And I think that's why I find the atmosphere of Poppy Playtime so comforting despite the history of violent experiments. The entrance to the factory, the game station, even playcare feel like a childhood liminal space that makes me feel safe and like I'm a kid again.

The Poppy Playtime Fandom seems to have latched onto them and created their own sub-fandom like FNAF did with Sun and Moon. I don't know what it is about sun and moon themed characters, but I am here for it!

Anyways, I'll eventually be posting the other critters. I'm working on Bobby Bearhug and CraftyCorn for the next installment. My handwriting might be a bit hard to read, so the typed-up version of all my headcanons down below the cut.

CATNAP

• Throws THE BEST Slumber Parties

• Night Owl

• Stays up until 5 AM and wakes up at noon.

• Eternally Eepy (Narcoleptic AF)

• Everything he owns is some shade of purple and yellow

• Always wears pajamas

• Never leaves home without a blanket and pillow

• LOVES Astronomy and Stargazing

• Down to go camping at anytime

• Torn ear from fight with his siblings

• Best Bedtime Storyteller

• Has a library room

• Ends his days with hot tea and reading by the fire

DOGDAY

• Almost always covered in dirt

• Morning Person/Early Bird

• ADHD Kid

• Loves to Explore

• Therapy Dog Energy

• Always there to cheer up his friends

• Repetitive exercising and fidgeting to self-soothe

• Chris Traeger Vibes

• Owns every sports ball and exercise equipment ever made

• Fitness Guru

• Party Animal

• The one at slumber parties who wants to stay up all night. Passes out 5 minutes after bedtime

I hope you like my work and please let me know what you think, as I really appreciate it and use it as motivation. Be sure to follow me and come back for me, please!

Stay wild, free and safe, my dears!

-Astra

[keegansgf]

"pink is nice"

pairing: Valeria Garza x fem reader

synopsis: some domestic fluff backstory on Valeria's pink nails.

word count: 1.3k

tags: domestic bliss, fluff, silly wlw brainrot

A/N: Have you ever noticed Valeria has pink nails?? I have so many headcanons about her because she's just my little silly goose. Yes, she's 100% an artist and yes she has awful seasonal depression. I also think the y/n I've made for her is a beautician who does her hair and nails. Hashtag Valeria apologist lifestyle.

"Sorry that I don't have any more colors! I thought shades of pink, yellow, green, and blue would be cute for spring." You said while Valeria looked at your relatively empty nail polish organizer. "You could go with your usual picks too."

Her brows furrowed, eyes squinted, and she stood with arms crossed, deep in thought. Never have you seen someone so decisive with nail polish– it's cute, though! The people around Valeria could never see her in such a normal state– thank god you were able to witness this. You spaced out and stared at the organizer until she snapped you out of your trance.

"Pink is nice. I think I'll go with that." She kissed your cheek and handed you the nail polish, base coat, and top coat bottles. You fixed the throw pillows on your shared bed for extra cushion, one for you and one for her. She sat beside you in her spot, putting the polish next to you and handing you a nail file.

"You think you can shape them down? I think they're a little overgrown for work." She laughed while pushing her stray hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear.

"In your terms, they are. I hate filing them down, though... you have such pretty nail beds."

"I wouldn't be able to do my job properly with anything longer, but thank you for the compliment, amor. Sweet as always."

You jokingly groan at her response, continuing to file down her right hand. You both sat in a comfortable quietness, the occasional dog barking or car driving by being the only interruptions. Valeria darted her eyes around the room before circling her sight back to you, the floor, then to her hands. By now, you were working on her base coat. Her focus returned to you when you broke the silence.

"When we first met, I saw you as a purple gal. It's a very royal color historically– it fits you." You said, observing the bottle of hot pink nail polish beside you.

"Really?"

"Mhm. You usually don't pick bright colors, so it surprised me when you chose this. What's the switch up today?" Valeria bit the inside of her lip and looked to the side, trying to come up with an answer. If she had to be honest, it was just a pretty color– one of her favorites, too. She does understand where you're coming from, though. Her nails usually match her everyday closet, which are neutrals and some hints of blue from her jeans, so she opts for either black or shades of nude. They're colors that don't stand out too much but still make her feel pretty wearing them.

"I felt a little special. Spring is here, so it feels less dead, unlike winter. Plus, our anniversary is coming up! I'm in a good mood," She used her free hand to pet your head, not wanting to mess you up by shifting to kiss you. "I think a bright color fits how I feel right now."

 You smiled at her genuine happiness. It was rare for Valeria to come home without stress, walking in carrying her anger from a mistake her employees made or a mistake she made herself. Whenever that happens to be the case (which again, is frequent), she isolates herself immediately. Despite her line of work taking a fair amount of collaboration, she works by herself most of the time. That left a lot of speculation about what 'El Sin Nombre' was truly like, and not who Valeria Garza was under her work mindset. It amazes you that you were able to get to know her with how distant she was with the people around her. You're surprised she even wanted to date you– let alone marry you.

"As long as you're happy, I'm happy, love. Speaking of our anniversary, what do you wanna do?"

"Well... I think we could both benefit from going outside. How does dinner sound? We can still cook breakfast and lunch ourselves. I know you like spending our mornings together." She giggles.

"You know me so well." You laughed, finishing the base coat, and started with the main event; the hot pink nail polish chosen by your wife.

"It really is a nice color. It makes me forget the seasonal depression we both got out of." She said, examining the sheer first layer. She was right about the seasonal depression. You both get tired during December, then exhausted trying to start the new year correctly in January and February. It starts getting better in early March when you're finally caught up with life, and the pace quickens to prepare for spring.

"Now you have me wanting to use pink too. I might go with a lighter shade so we can still match."

After about three coats, you were finishing off Valeria's nails with a glossy top coat. She looked at her other hand which was drying to admire your work.

"Good job as always, amor! When can I not trust you with my nails? Thank you."

"It's nothing! Plus, it's been a while since you've taken some time for yourself." Valeria clicked her tongue and sighed, knowing what you were referring to.

"I know, I know. I missed being home, too." The only con to being married to her; she's rarely able to be home, especially nowadays with her bigger plans. As much as you appreciate the precious texts and phone calls while she's hours away from home, dealing with something work-related, it's hard to cope with life going on without her home. Your co-workers always see you mope around whenever Valeria is long-distance, and she's more serious than usual while operating away from home. You completed each other so perfectly– it was like tearing the sun and moon apart when you weren't together.

Every conversation you and Valeria had brought you closer; it was the reason you both took interest in each other from the start. One of the more hidden interests she had was art. She isn't into doing her own art– at least not often, but she could talk about how it impacts her for hours. You remember you were on a walk with her while admiring the street art of Las Almas after coming home.

"What made you start liking street art so much? You talk about it so passionately."

"Las Almas wouldn't be itself without the street art. I think it shows the community and the will of the people. I like it for that."

"Do you have a favorite piece?"

"Hmm... I don't think I could pick one if I tried. You're always my favorite work of art, though."

It makes you glad that she sometimes treats her trips as art tours, sending you murals in a new town she arrived in. Sometimes you think in another reality, Valeria pursued art and wouldn't be as stressed and overworked as she is now. But as long as she's happy with her life, all is fine. 

"Alright, they're dry- ah!" You got pulled into a hug while Valeria laid back on the bed, bringing you down with her. She peppered your face with kisses before deeply kissing your lips and burying her face in your neck.

"Thank you again. I love you." She said, sighing into you. You were on your sides facing each other while her arms were on your waist.

"I love you too. You're welcome, by the way." You giggled, wrapping your arms around her, enjoying her loving embrace. You stayed just like that for a minute, savoring the warmth before Valeria spoke again.

"Do you want to get snacks and watch a movie together? I call it an early anniversary celebration." She said while getting up on her elbows and giving you a wink. "I may have been able to work a little extra last month to be around you more."

"Of course, I want to." She got off your shared bed, helping you up to go pick movie snacks with her.

"Alright, let's go. This week will be just for us, I promise."

[rabbitholessk]

land soup (or ten year old Jurdan being kids in faerie before everything)

Jude stomps away from Madoc’s stronghold. Her and Taryn just squabbled ferociously and she needs to be as far from Taryn as possible. Taryn wore on her last nerve, especially after dealing with the cries of the new adoptive baby Madoc took in, along with a bride. Jude was due some much needed alone time and quiet.

The luster and frightening feel of Faerie has worn off ever so slightly after the three years her, Taryn, and Vivi have now lived here. 

Ten years old, angry with her sister, and with one of her fingers healing where the tip had been bitten off a few odd weeks ago;  Jude feels for the first time in a long time, like she is out of place. If she was in the mortal realm, she would have probably taken her bike and rode off somewhere to blow off steam. But alas, her bike is more than likely covered in a thick layer of dust in her family’s former garage. Or, maybe, a different kid was using her bike now. 

She shakes the thought and forges on. Careful not to step on any suspicious mushrooms or plants. Jude is ever weary of any creatures looking at her through the trees so she keeps her head high and her focus forward. 

She’s walked off farther than she ought to have, but finds herself grateful for it. After passing through the milkwood she happened upon a hidden lake, enshrouded by lazy willow trees and surrounded by flowers in every shade of blue and purple. No matter the horrors of Faerie, there were still these scenes that seemed to have come straight from one of the fairy tale books of her youth.

Jude decides to set up in this beautiful area for a while. Gathering rocks from around the small lake she skips them across the surface. Or attempts to. It’s been a while since she’s done this. It feels bittersweet. Her father had been the one to teach her how to skip rocks on their summer trips to the beach. 

“What are you doing?” A commanding, yet curious voice questions over shoulder. To her embarrassment, she startles and whirls around, narrowly missing the mystery person's head with a thrown rock. 

With quick reflexes she’s not able to study who the mystery person is, when said person is throwing the rock back at her. She ducks in time, then springs back up to find none other than the youngest Prince of Faerie’s piercing kohl eyes studying her. 

“You.” 

She’s familiar with Cardan. He’s in the academy with her and Taryn. They don’t interact all that often considering their difference in social standing. 

“I command you to show me how to do what you were just doing.” The prince says snootily. Jude has the brief instance where she thinks she wants to laugh in his face or tell him off, but instead she bites her tongue. It was a bad idea to make enemies of the royal family. Respect for the Greenbriar line has been drilled into Taryn and Jude ever since Madoc took them in.

More like he murdered their parents, and kidnapped them. But in faerie, Jude has learned that might just be any other Tuesday for the Folk.

Jude rolls her eyes and trudges closer to the shore of the pristine lake. 

“First we need to find some rocks.” She states, searching the bank and finding a small handful. To her surprise the youngest prince has gotten onto his hands and knees and is digging through the dirt. If a Prince of Elfhame digging through dirt is a shock, the tail emerging from behind him is an even bigger one. 

She says nothing and waits for him to collect his rocks. She tucks the observation away for a later time, a question for Vivi, perhaps. 

Jude shows him the motions and watches as Cardan attempts to skip them across the surface. She quickly gets bored when she realizes he’s going to be doing this for a while. His focus is seemingly stuck on perfecting the skill. 

Instead, to kill more time, Jude trudges over to a decaying tree stump and takes up an act from her childhood that has been long forgotten. The urge to collect various pieces from nature and make a ‘land soup’ with the stump as the cauldron consumes her. It may be childish for someone whose age is now in the double digits, but she is alone, save for the Prince still tossing rocks. Nonetheless, she indulges on this small ounce of her lost childhood. 

After collecting leaves, rocks, brambles, a collection of blue and purple petals Jude stirs them into the cauldron. She found a large stick to act as a stirring device and set to work. Watching with rapt attention as the different bits of nature become this hodge-podge of nasty within the stump, she fails to hear Cardan creep up behind her. 

“What is that horrible mess?” 

To her great embarrassment, once again, she jolts-- her stick cracks against the stump from the shock. 

“It’s land soup.” She mutters.

“Your pardon?” 

“It’s a game from my childhood.” She’s not exactly sure how much of her life the Prince knows about, so she only supplies the minimal answer. 

“Ah.” He gets closer to the slop. “Have you considered adding water?” Jude swivels to look at him, astounded by his suggestion. If she’s read him correctly, he’s being playful. Before she can answer, Cardan is already rushing the few feet over to the lake. He gathers water in cupped hands, spilling some on the dash over to the stump. 

Wordlessly, with two mirroring grins, they hobble back and forth from the stump and the lake with cupped hands of water. The smell becomes atrocious, a sure-fire sign you’ve made land soup properly. 

“It smells awful.” Jude remarks, watching as Cardan uses her stick to swirl around the murky contents of the stump. 

“It’s more appealing than most of my meals.” From the strangely serious demeanor he adopts, Jude cannot tell if the Prince is joking. 

The sun is beginning to set below the horizon. Jude hadn’t realized how long she’d been away. She had tried to retreat when everyone else would have been asleep, completely disregarding why the Prince would ever be awake at this hour as well. 

Cardan catches her studying the moon rising in the distance. 

“Do you know your way home?” He questions softly. She nods. It’s growing dark now though, and she can’t see in the dark like the fae. The two still stand around the stump. 

“I can’t see in the dark.” She admits. 

“Madoc’s stronghold?” Cardan asks. 

Jude pauses then utters an affirmative. Swiftly his hand wraps around her wrist, and he’s dragging her through the dark patch of forest, until she recognizes the heady smell of the milkwood, all the way until she sees the familiar torches of Madoc’s stronghold just beyond the tree line the two are tucked into. 

She’s not sure what to say, or what to do with Cardan. In turn, he decides for both of them. Jude knows the honey laced sound of a glamour. She feels briefly infuriated and hurt, until he begins to speak. 

“You will go to your room, sleep, and mention our meeting to no one. You will not remember what happened tonight, you were simply going for a walk and got turned around.” 

Jude’s feet trample through the dark until she makes it to the door. Oriana ushers her in and up to her bedroom where Jude flops face first into her mattress. Exhausted with the smell of mud and flowers laced in her hair and clothes. When she wakes she craves honey cakes. 

[izgnanik-a]

Suffer Does The Wolf (Crawling to Thee) i

Summary: Simon knew the exact moment when he knew he had to have you for himself. It was only a matter of time before his military skills allowed himself into your home, into your life. And once he stuck — he wasn’t going to let you back out of his webs.

Tags: non-con, stalker!Ghost, fem reader, mature content

MINORS DNI

next part ➡️

You were nothing but a civilian, or at least you should have been. But you were standing so pretty behind the bar top counter, coffee with a throw away name Simon had used on it instead of his own. Your handwriting was always decorative, with a heart over the i’s.

He had to cut into your presence and sew himself into the holes he’d torn out — just to have you.

The first time he approached the counter and you’d caught his eye; you wore a pale blue nail polish that reminded him of the chipping paint off his walls.

"What can I get for you?" Six words that seared into his mind unnecessarily. But you looked at him like a human being, despite his masked face, despite the uncanny resemblance of a Leviathan of legends, or Prometheus himself. You just gazed up at him with a smile, head swiveled so far up at him.

And then he'd realized he was standing before you, without having said a single thing. Then — he was spewing sense.

"Coffee." He grumbled.

"One coffee. Hot or iced?"

"Hot."

"What size?"

"Medium."

"Cream and sugar?"

"Black."

You glanced up at him, "Just to clarify; medium hot coffee, no cream or sugar, no flavor shots."

Simon's eyes flickered down to your apron. Pins and patches sewn into it, a nametag with a bold delicate cursive of your name along with how long you'd been working there.

Three months. And he hadn't seen you until just now, well into Autumn.

"Yes." Simon hummed as he dragged his eyes from your apron and to your face. He was already sliding his money across the counter before you could even ring him out completely. You'd thanked him and held his change back out to him.

You hadn't expected his hands to be so warm, or big, but you flashed a smile at him. "Your coffee will be right up, just stand under the pick-up sign, and we'll make that up for you, John." And you smiled at him again as he moved over to allow the long line of customers to continue.

He wanted for his coffee and sulked over to his unoccupied corner, one he favored. People didn't usually sit in the armchair because it had worn down leather on it's back, and it sat in the corner where it was dark with no wall sockets.

But he had appreciation for the dark.

He also had appreciation for the direct line of sight between tables at the register.

Simon gently hoisted his hot cup of coffee to his mouth, bringing his mask up just to free his lips before taking a gulp of the horrid thing. It was scalding, but he could hardly focus on it. He focused on your honey sweet smiles, your bright flash of quick glances, and chipper voice.

He normally would have found that despicable, would have wanted to squash it in any private he'd met, but you? He wanted it in the palm of his hands. He took his time with his coffee, using it as an excuse to stay longer. But duties had called him away.

The second time he'd come to the shop, he'd been mindful of the time. If you were on a fixed schedule, he would see you this time around if you weren't late. You'd have on some new nail polish because the old polish, he'd come to find as Coral Blue, had been a part of the summer collection from the mall.

He'd spotted it when he was passing the Sephora boutique, a display of their Summer collection on sale since the new season was on.

It was Autumn, Halloween was coming, you had to love Halloween.

Halloween was everyone's favorite holiday.

And he was right.

The new color you'd picked out was a purple matte shade, Cruel Intentions, he discovered later that week. And your eyes seemed to light up at first sight of his frame.

"Hello?" You gleamed. "What'll it be today?"

Simon met your eyes. "Coffee."

You nodded, "Hot or iced?"

"Hot."

It was the same parade every time.

"What size?"

"Medium."

"Black, right?"

Simon kept his stare firm on yours. "Yeah."

You nodded, ringing it up, and before he could even utter his false name, you set his coffee before him. "Medium hot black for John." You smiled up at him.

Simon didn't say a thing; any normal person would've been disturbed on why someone would know their order. But Simon was absolutely floored that you'd remembered him, recognized him, stuffed him into the forefront of your mind enough times to have receipts overflowing. You remembered him. But it didn't help that Simon had started coming around the same times now, same days you'd worked.

He'd hoped no one else caught on and whispered their worries to you.

Even if they did, he hoped you disregarded them and considered him just a usual customer.

He didn't want to pull the curtains back just yet. He wanted to remain in your obliviousness for a stretch of time longer, if anything, never.

Simon took the coffee from the countertop and set his money on the surface. He turned away, maybe too proud or too shy to say anything about it.

But the next time he'd come into the shop, he was going to be sure to say something. Anything. As he was coming through the front door, holding it open for another customer, he came to notice that the store had been fairly empty.

Sure, it was raining and the drive thru was packed but someone must've wanted to come inside under the cover of this rain.

He followed the dividers to the counter, and waited a moment. No one standing at the counter.

"I'll be right with you!" Simon heard and his heart lept in his chest.

You came into sight from the drive thru window, a light jacket on, and a lingering smile that only reappeared as you approached. "I'll get your coffee in just a sec—"

"Take your time." He uttered.

You gave him a thankful smile and turned back for the drive thru. You cleared two cars before returning to him with his medium hot black coffee. "One hot black coffee for you." You smiled. "Sorry for the wait, it's been non-stop in drive thru."

His eyes panned along the bar top. "Where is everyone else?"

There were usually baristas, cooks making sandwiches behind the bakery bar. But none.

"It's just me today." You shrugged. "There were a few callouts, one person is sick. We're just short staffed." You waved your hand dismissively. "It's nothing I'm not used to."

Despite being stretched in every direction, you were still standing there smiling at him. Holding the world on your shoulders and still showing your dedication to the gods.

Simon didn't put the money on the counter this time, opting to hold it out to you.

"Thank you." You hummed, flashing him your changed nails. They were that same shade of blue again.

"Coral Blue." Simon found himself mumbling under his mask.

You looked at him with a look of shock, "Hm?"

He shook his head once as you offered out the change to him. He pointed to your nails. "Coral Blue." He said again, this time with more depth. "The color."

And you glowed so beautifully. "They are." You blushed, giving them a glance over. "They're my favorite color of blue actually. I'm—" you chuckled, "I'm surprised anyone knows the exact shade. What are you, a nail tech?"

That must've been a joke. You were joking right.

You were laughing so it must've been a joke; a big guy like him, hunched over someone's nails as he added precise details. "I'm actually searching for this one shade, and I've been keeping my eye out for it all over." You waved your hand about. "It's called The Pale Horseman in the Revelations collection at Sephora. Morbid, I know. But, it's a really nice set. I just wish it wasn't so expensive."

Simon would pay any and all amounts of money to get you those sets, those shades, even call the chemist who makes them and bottles them. "I'll keep an eye out for you."

You chuckled. "That's a high price."

"I'm willing."

You nodded, your headset going off. "Well, if you do see it, let me know where it is. Tuck it away for me somewhere hidden so I can find it." You smiled, "I have to take this." You gestured to the headset. "It was nice talking to you, John." You turned for the window.

Simon didn't stay that day to drink his coffee, though he wanted to sit in his corner and drink his coffee. Watch you go from each station to make people's coffees, sharing smiles and polite greetings. But he had an assignment due.

He would find you those shades, wrap it in a nice box, and deliver it to your doorstep if he had to.

But he needed to remain nonchalant. He couldn't follow you home just yet. He needed to limit his self control.

You got into work late the next day, your shift had started an hour ago, and Simon had already come and gone. But he was worried. You were never late. Not in the two weeks he'd been watching you.

"Hey, there's a package for you here."

You turned to the comment, furrowed brows, and hummed. "For me?"

"Yeah, some guy came by, like, fifteen minutes before you came in and told us to give it to you. It's in the office."

In more confusion, you moved for the office. A small white box sat by the telephone, a red silk ribbon was been tied around it to keep the lid secure. With one pull, it was falling apart in your palm and you carefully removed the lid like you were taking apart a bomb.

You didn't know what to expect. You didn't know anyone there.

But at the center, stuffed inside of tissue paper with flakes of glitter, was a single nail polish jar of The Pale Horseman. A card had been signed and left on the underside of the lid reading: " The price is one medium black coffee -Simon "

You stared at the card and back at the nail polish, only knowing two people you'd spoken about this nail polish with recently. You were absolutely shocked that you had it in hand, knowing it was nearly impossible to find, but wielded it in your hand.

You smiled as you repackaged the nail polish, sure to wear it that night.

Fic Masterlist

Do not copy my works and post elsewhere.

[under-sedationnn]

mike schmidt x pregnant fem!reader pt.2

summary: a continuation of a day in the life with mike schmidt in which the reader navigates the joys, and hardships, of pregnancy.

"so, what are we thinking, a classic baby blue or something more adventurous? like" a pause, squinting at the screen, "green."

With Abby gone for the day, Mike and I plopped ourselves in the living room for a debrief of the day ahead. I opted for the floor, Mike helping me lower myself to the carpet in front of the TV. I groan as my butt hits the floor less than gracefully, and lay flat on my back as we chat.

"What sounds best to you, y/n?" he starts, stifling a yawn. I feel myself frown slightly in response, feeling guilty about how tired he must be feeling. He catches on.

"Hey hey, baby, I'm okay," another yawn, "I just need another cup of coffee, I think."

"No, Mike, you need to sleep," I say, and turn to lay on my side with my head propped up on my hand. He leans back on the couch and huffs, pulling his hands down his face as he lets out a sigh.

I pick at the carpet with my fingers, and wait for him to respond.

"I know, I know I need to sleep but- damnit, I'm trying to make this work, y/n." Face still hidden, he sits in silence again until I move to sit up. With great difficulty, might I add.

"And you're doing a great job, Mikey, but I really think you could use the rest. We could use the rest, right now." He moves his hands from his face and pulls me in for a hug by my neck. I trace my nails up and down his back through his shirt, and he lets out a small sigh.

He nods his head against my shoulder, and in silence, we move to the bedroom. The bed is still unmade, and we slip back under the covers as if we have never left. Turning to face away from him, Mike buries his front into my back and we melt into one another, the warmth of his chest replacing the chill of vacant sheets.

He places his hand on my stomach, and I feel at home in his embrace. "Mike," I start, "you're gonna be a great dad."

He kisses the back of my neck. "Thank you, baby. You're gonna be a great mom, I know it."

With that, the sound of the TV in the living room drowns out to a lulling hum and the morning light of the window slowly but surely fades to black.

"We're in this together, y/n."

````````````````````````````````````````````

When I wake up from my nap, I haven't moved from my original position, but Mike is gone. The absence of his warmth sends a chill through my body, and I sit up to find the nearest throw blanket.

Walking into the living room, I catch sight of Mike scrolling on my laptop at the table. His forehead is wrinkled in concentration, and when he looks up to find me standing in the doorway, he cracks a smile.

"Good morning," he says, "again."

I chuckle, and he turns his attention back to the screen, scrolling once again.

"Whatcha looking at?" I ask, moving to pour myself a glass of water. I open the dishwasher to find that it hadn't been run the night before, and curse myself silently. I give up for now, and walk back over to the couch. "Mike, please do remind me to run the dishes tonight. But seriously, what's got you all focused in? Looking for a new job listing?"

"I definitely should be, but the night shift pays the bills. Just look at this." He swivels the laptop toward me, and when I see different swatches of paint pulled up, I can't help but smile.

"Good thinking, Mike. Ooooh, I like this purple! It's like a periwinkle."

He leans in to look with me. "Yeah, they have a good selection for not too much money. I'm sure Abby might want a new coat of paint once we get started on a nursery, so we need to prep for that."

"Right," I draw out, "she's probably sick of the shade she's got. Needs something more big girl, you know?"

He only rolls his eyes, grinning slightly. "So, what are we thinking, a classic baby blue or something more adventurous? like" a pause, squinting at the screen, "green."

"Hmmm, green is quite daunting, huh?" I scroll for a few moments, and find a springy peach color. "This would look great with all the sunlight coming in, and we could get everything else in neutrals and use all the hand-me-down furniture my family gave us."

"I'm glad you're feeling inspired," and he looks over the paint color himself, turning to smile wider this time. "This'll be great, let's go pick it up now."

I kiss him, hugging him as well as I can, and waddle to our room to get ready.

After changing our clothes, I find myself on the couch, looking longingly at my sneakers from across the room. Mike walks in, follows my gaze to where my shoes sit, and places my shoes in front of me, chuckling as he goes for his keys.

I sigh, defeated. “Mike, I'm gonna be honest, there's no way I can tie my shoes.”

“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”“”

i know that this part 2 is late and was way shorter than the first but i did just want to give a little more attention to dad!mike because uh so cute?? anyways

thanks for reading!!

[1wingedtraveler]

Family reunion

Scaramouche x reader

Warnings: a bit of family drama between Raiden and Scara, Reader and scara have a kid, no pronouns mentioned for the reader

You have been walking around the inazuma city for a while now. Scaramouche insisted on buying Koharu new clothing saying the old ones were already worn out and ugly (they weren't. He bought them for her about 2 weeks ago)

"Tch, why is every merchant in this city so incompetent that they can't sell at least one good quality kimono?"

"I think you're a little bit too harsh on them darling. I sure they're trying their best to meet your expectations"

You tried calming down your husband. Last thing you want is him exploding at some Innocent shop keeper

"Besides look, Koharu seems to be having lots of fun!"

  It was her first time in the city. Scaramouche didn't want to show himself with his family in a public place like this too often. He said it can bring unwanted attention and put his loved ones in danger. Although you felt like there is more to it than that

You stopped by the shop and looked at certian kimono on display. It was light purple with beautifull wisteria flower pattern. It seemed that it also caught your husband's attention as well because He stopped to look at it

"Oi vendor! Im intrested in this kimono right here. Lets talk details"

As you started talking with the seller, you didn't notice little Koharu wandering off somewhere on her own

"Well (reader), what do you think about it?"

"Its certainly very beautifull, but are you sure we should buy her something so expe-"

"We will be taking it then"

Scaramouche cut you off before you had the chance to complain about the price

"A daughter of mine deserves to wear only the finest of silks. Price is unimportant"

You decided that there's no use in arguing with him. It was getting late, almost time for supper. Koharu must be starving by now

"Koharu let's-huh?"

You noticed that the little girl that was clinging to your leg was gone

"Where's Koharu!?"

"HUH?! Wasn't she with you?"

"She must have walked off and get lost in the crowd while we were talking to the vendor!"

Panic started to rise between you two. You quickly decided to split up and search the city.

Adrenaline was rushing through your veins as you pushed through the crowd as quickly as you could. Worst case scenarious apearing in your head. Kunikuzushi's job is dangerous, what is someone kidnapped her? You felt like throwing up when you thought about it

You asked many shop keepers with no luck. Such a small girl is hard to spot in a place like this. Your heart started beating faster and fatser like it was about to jump out of your chest. You decided to head towards dango milk stall, there you spotted a familliar mop of dark indigo hair

"Koharu!" You yelled and rushed towards her

As you got closer, you noticed that she was with someone. A tall woman in short violet kimono with long hair of similliar shade as your daughter's. She was drinking dango milk accompined with some sort of dessert. She had strong presence making people around her stay away

"Raiden shogun?"  You could hardly belive it. Koharu was pulling at her sleeve white looking at her with deep blue eyes

"Papa?"

"Child, im afraid im not your parent. Did you get lost?

"Ah, Raiden ei! Im so sorry. I've lost sight of her when I was shopping with my husband"

"Its quite alright. Young children are full of curiousity about the world around them they do tend to go on their own adventures. May i ask your name?"

"My name's (reader)! Im her parent. I hope she didn't cause you any trouble"

Raiden shook her head

"Not at all. She seemed intrested in my dessert here"

"Haha, yes she has quite the sweet tooth. I have to hide sweets in deepest corners of the house so she doesn't over eat"

"I can understand her passion. I'm also quite fond of sweet things"

While you were chatting with the Shogun you didn't even notice a figure approaching

"Hey (reader)! Have you-"

Scaramouche paused mid sentance, freezing in place with wide eyes. Ei's eyes also widend in suprise. Two of them stood of them in silnce for a moment before scara seemed to snap out of it

"You-! What are trying to do to my daughter?!"

He stormed towards his creators side, quickly dragging Koharu away from her before picking her up in his arms

You were awere of his past and his feeling towards his mother but you would have never guess they would end up in such uncomfortable situation like this. The atmosphere was tense, like a storm was abou to break out. Raiden's expression was by no means hostile. It was clouded with regret and guilt. She knew that she'll have to face him someday but didn't think it will be so sudden

"I understand that you feel wary of me. However i promise i mean no harm to you or your family"

"Why should i belive you, traitor?"

Scaramouche's tone was harsh and unforgiving. Masking all the pain he has been carring for these long centuries

"I know i can't  expect you to forgive me and i won't try to make excuses for myself, all i ask is for you to hear me out"

Raiden tried to mask it but you could hear slight desperation in her voice

Frown deepened on his face, his deathly stare didn't break even for a second. He hugged his daughter tighter but didn't say anything. Raiden took it as a silent premission to continue

"The decision about leaving you in shakkei pavilion, right after your creation, was one of the biggest regrets in my live. I am deeply sorry for everything that you have to go through because of that"

Something wavered in Scaramouche's eyes. You could see his jaw tighten

"I'm very glad that you have overcame all the diffculties my decision might have caused and you found happiness nevertheless. I love you very much as my son, i wish only the best for you and your family"

Balladeer's eyes opened wider, the harsh glare he tried to up hold was filling up with more despair than anger. Biting his lip, He started visbly shaking now. You've came closer to him, putting your hand on his shoulder, silnetly trying to comfort him

"You and your family are welcome in tenshukaku, any time of the day. After everything i've done im glad you have blessed me with such beautifull grandchild"

Tears threatend to fall from kunikuzushi's cheeks. But before they had the chance to, he quickly hid his expression behind his hat before turing away and storming off with Koharu. He refused to show her that weak side if him again in fear that she would mock him for it.

You stayed there looking in his direction with a shocked expression, not being able to say a word. Raiden looked at the ground with guilt in her eyes. You looked at her before speaking up

"Im sure thats a lot for him to take in right now. Please don't take his behavior to heart"

"There is no need to comfort me. His reaction is understanable. He was a child abonded by his mother. Left to wander the world he knew nothing about. No mother to teach him about it nor correct him when he've gone on the wrong path"

Two of you fell silent. You had no idea what to say to her. Sadness filled your chest. The sorrow she felt all those years must have been uimaginable. Ei hesitantly spoke up, her voice full of pain she could no longer hide

"...please just.. take care of him for me"

She looked up to the sky. Seemingly not only asking you but any devine being that was listening

You smiled softly before replying

"I will"

[callmecrazy4u2]

To Kill A Charmony Dove –  Yandere!Sunday x Reader x Yandere!Aventurine- Love triangle childhood friend now rivals Series

Yandere Aventurine x Reader Drabble Synopsis from Series

----

You are free from the shackles of a cage

And into another one as your eyes reflect Aventurine's mirrors of kaleidoscope blue-green and purples. Caught in the hypnotic prism of his eyes.

Like another faceted gem to add to his collection.

Which side would he show you now?

Shall I call you friend?” Aventurine inquires with a wry smile.

Aventurine’s neck marred by a tattoo that would not rub off no matter how he tried. A winning smile and fast dealing hand to disguise and distract from prismatic eyes betraying his origins.

Shades to cover the truth or to frame Aventurines best assets.

His careless wager to  “use me as you wish” to his friends.

Aventurine comes into the game knowing his value as a rare chip yet also equally seeing himself as worthless nothing less to lose.

I always win says the man who loses and keeps on losing.

He carelessly throws his everything as a chip in the center to be wagered for the fight for penacony.

Background

Childhood! Sigonian! of Aventurine

Childhood friend! Penacony!Oak! Family! Reader

 ‘Sibling’ of Sunday & Robin ( but not really raised together but not blood related siblings but robin sees it as such Sunday not so much…)

Job

-The ‘charmony dove based reader who becomes Sunday’s messenger raven

A backup singer for robin

Friend of Sibione and dream troupe may have performed worked for them before transfer to Sunday’s department…as secretary of sorts…

Or maybe was dreamweaver up to reader.

Part of the Family

Yonder! X Sunday

Series

A messenger servent type reader who works under Sunday & almost like younger sibling/sister to robin as they were raised together by gopher wood who save date orphans form the tragedy.

Reader referred to as Dove or Raven as their respective role and “name” but real name lost

 =

More pics or one shots here as lost past tumble blog:

[littlemisspascal]

Bitter Ends Turn Sweet in Time

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Word Count: 7k+

Summary: There’s not a single day in a whole year that isn’t bookmarked by a memory of him. And you, you remember all of them.

Rating: T

Warnings: Pokémon au (but not 100% true to canon, just elements + some characters), time skips in non-linear manner, fluff, angst, bittersweet ending, storms, language, Reader and Frankie are same age + grow up together, high school au ish(?), inspired by 500 Days of Summer + Song of Achilles' 'name one hero who was happy' scene + this quote by photographer David Alan Harvey:

"Don't shoot what it looks like. Shoot what it feels like."

- Reader has no official name and no physical traits described in detail. However, she is mentioned to have hair, a career, wear a dress (no description), and eat sandwiches

Author Note: I've been wanting to write a Pokémon au for a long, long, long time and I've also been wanting to write a non-linear fic for a long, long, long time as well so this is the result of both those wants combining forces *awkwardly throws it into the universe* It is what it is.

-- all moodboard photos found on pinterest

-- shinx, luxio, luxray // pikachu photo references

Special thanks to @beecastle for beta reading and encouraging me through my breakdowns 💜

Day 1,695

Luxray’s a silent wall of black and blue fur for your body to brace against as the sky bleeds a deep shade of orange, and you know he knows. Doesn’t even have to use his x-ray vision to confirm what’s etched into every line of your expression. Anguish—when it’s real and unbearable and deeply-rooted—is impossible to hide. Everyone who looks at you will know. 

Everyone except the one pair of brown eyes that’ll never look your way again.

“I’m such an idiot,” you say quietly, and it’s embarrassing how thick the lump of emotion is lodged in your throat. You wipe at your nose with your sleeve. “So damn stupid.”

Luxray lets out a low growl, chiding in nature, as if to say don’t talk shit about yourself. 

“He was never going to stay,” you continue, ignoring the vibration rattling your bones. “But I got my hopes up anyways. What we’ve accomplished these last few weeks together, I thought there was a chance…a slim one, you know? That maybe–maybe we could actually stick together this time.”

And you don’t realize you’re crying until Luxray’s twisting his head to nuzzle against your temple, encouraging you to bury your face into the thick fur along his chest and shoulders. With your eyes squeezed shut, you can almost block out the all-encompassing numbness emanating from the cavity your heart used to reside in.

“He’s gone…” you choke out through sobs, grabbing fistfuls of Luxray’s inky black mane. “And I think it’s permanent this time.”

Day 1

The first day of classes at Uva Academy is a whirlwind of meeting teachers, racing from one floor to the next against the clock, and making sure you never lose track of Shinx in the chaos of it all, but when the last bell finally rings, you feel no sting of regret about coming here. 

You split a sandwich with Shinx underneath a tree in the school courtyard, brain buzzing with the overload of information absorbed throughout the day. Maybe signing up for a full schedule of classes was a bit excessive, but unlike most of your fellow students who have some semblance of a plan for their futures your next steps are plagued with uncertainty. There are so many paths one can take with their Pokémon—the course of a Trainer, a Coordinator, a Professor, a Ranger, the list goes on and on—you don’t know which direction to take.

When you lock eyes with a boy with brown eyes across the yard, there’s nothing special about the moment. No sparks, no forgetting how to breathe. He’s just a boy with a Pikachu on his shoulder and a dimpled grin on his face.

“I saw you in Mr. Jacq’s class,” he says in lieu of a greeting when he draws closer, purple Academy tie loose and crooked around his neck. Recognition stirs in the back of your mind, a flash of dark brown curls towards the back of the room spotted before taking your seat at the front. 

Actually, now that you think about it…

“Weren’t you in Ms. Dendra’s class too?” you wonder, passing the last bite of sandwich to Shinx, his little body wiggling eagerly. “And Ms. Raifort’s…?”

“Yeah, I, uh, I don’t really know what I want to do yet.” He scuffs at the ground with his shoe, grin turning a bit crooked at the corner, strangely endearing in its awkwardness. “I figure life’s short, you know? Why not try as many things as you can when you have the chance?”

“Right,” you agree, finding yourself smiling back. “Nothing wrong with making memories.”

"I'm Frankie, by the way."

“Nice to meet you Frankie,” you say, shaking his hand. It’s warm in your grip, firm and secure, thumb grazing over your knuckles. “Looks like we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

And so it starts after that—the counting of days. Days when you see him in class, when he smiles at you, when he does homework with you in the library, when he and Pikachu have a battle against you and Shinx–winner buys lunch. It’s a subconscious quirk you keep to yourself. Even after he’s gone, chasing after legends to the far corners of the earth, you still continue counting days.

Days when he crosses your mind. Days when you leave the door unlocked in case he stops by. Days when you swear you catch a whiff of his citrus shampoo on the pillowcase despite the impossibility of it.

There’s not a single day in a whole year that isn’t bookmarked by a memory of him. And you, you remember all of them.

Day 183

“I want my name in one of these books,” he tells you, Ms. Raifort’s assigned reading on the lost explorers of Area Zero spread out in front of him.

You look up from the text, fatalities and disaster and other sharp words with teeth still swimming in your head. “It won’t be easy.”

You’ve only known him six months—long enough to be certain you’ll never meet anyone else like him, but too short to realize the hidden depths of his stubborn ambition.

“No,” he agrees, mouth curling up at the corner, “but it’ll be one hell of a story.”

Day 8

The air is heavy with the sharp, pungent scent of ozone as thunder rumbles overhead. You take in the ominous black clouds, adjusting the hood of your yellow coat to better defend your hair against the pattering raindrops. Doesn’t do much to ward off the chill of the wind though.

Shinx is darting about the meadow in zigzagging lines, wet to the bone and having a blast. Pikachu follows at his heels, electricity sparking from the red circles of her cheeks before fizzling out harmlessly. If there’s any rules to this game they’re playing, you haven’t a clue. Still, their obvious excitement over the weather has you smiling despite the numbness of your toes in soggy shoes.

To your left, Frankie watches the pair of Pokémon nimbly leap over a puddle, studying their graceful movements. His dark hair is flattened against his head, curls beaten into submission, but there’s something in his eyes, a sort of wistfulness that snags your attention like a moth to a flame. 

A bolt of lightning burns a gleaming white strip across the gloomy sky, halting Shinx and Pikachu’s play as they elicit squeaks of awe, but you can’t stop looking at Frankie. He’s grinning now, a wide and ecstatic thing with his head tipped back, rain streaming down his face.

“Amazing, isn’t it? Seeing one of nature’s tantrums,” he says, voice low and wonderstruck. “My mother always said it takes someone extra special to train those who can summon such raw, uncontrollable power on cue.”

You’ve never thought of yourself as someone unusual or remarkable. Looking at him though, soaked and shivering and absolutely beaming, you think if anyone’s extra special in this world it’s him.

Day 1,987

It’s a long time before you can look through photos of him without a wound violently tearing open in your chest. Longer still before you can hear his voice on the phone. He calls more often these days, mostly because you’re knee-deep in another mystery and only a little because he misses you, and that’s okay. You can smile at his jokes and it feels real. You can love him and know better than to be in love with him.

You stay busy. You photograph every inch of the nature park on Florio, even convince Professor Mirror to let you take the NEO-ONE to some of Lental’s other islands for further research. You spend hours clicking through photos on your computer, frowning at blurry ones, printing some out for the Professor to take a closer look at as well as a few for your own personal collection of albums. 

Your coworker isn’t an intimidating figure by any means, but something about watching him study and scrutinize your pictures never fails to make your hands shake and feet shuffle. Even after all these months, practically living inside each other’s pockets at the Laboratory of Ecology and Natural Sciences (or L.E.N.S. as the Professor affectionately calls it), studying the Illumina phenomenon and all its effects, there’s a part of you still terrified it could all come crashing down.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Professor Mirror tells you, glaring disapprovingly over the frames of his glasses. It’s not the first time you’ve heard that remark and it won’t be the last either. 

“More analyzing the photos and less analyzing me please,” you reply, nodding your head at the small stack in his hands.

He grumbles under his breath, but resumes evaluating the latest shots of your walk along Blushing Beach. There are Wingulls performing loops in the air, an Exeggutor snoozing beneath a palm tree, the splashings of a pair of Corsola playing in the waves. Luxray looking at the contents of a tide pool. A Pikachu eating a fluffruit after you’d scared her by your loud gasp, mistaking her for another of her kind. You don’t mention that tidbit to your coworker though.

That should be the last one, except then Professor Mirror’s letting out a surprised little hum, holding up a photo you never intended anyone else to ever see. Not even the subject. Especially not the subject.

It’s from your sophomore year at Uva Academy. You would call the picture ugly, edges a bit hazy due to your unsteady hands, still learning the tips and tricks of photography, except it’s Frankie. And he’s looking at you behind the lens with a fondness so sweet it makes your teeth hurt, holding a newly evolved Luxio to his chest, with windswept curls your fingers will always long to tame. 

You should’ve thrown it out a long time ago. The man in the photo isn’t the same man who will call you later tonight from half a world away just to ask how your day went and if you’re willing to admit you need his help with the Illumina project. But you’ve always been too sentimental for your own good, holding onto things until there are only scraps left, slipping through the gaps of your fingers. 

At the very least, you shouldn’t have reorganized your albums so close to your work station.

After what feels like the longest stretch of silence of your life, Professor Mirror finally says, carefully neutral as if wary of provoking a negative reaction, “Someone special, I presume?”

“It’s complicated,” is all you offer in response, snatching the picture back and telling yourself the ache behind your ribcage is a side effect of a papercut.

Day 389

Uva Academy teaches you battle strategies, the effects of Berries and how to better understand your Pokémon amongst other vital lessons to prepare students for a career outside the ancient brick walls and dorm rooms. 

It’s Frankie who teaches you how to find beauty in thunderstorms, how to enjoy each day like it’s your last, how to dream a little bit bigger, a little bit bolder—or maybe that’s something you teach each other. 

On the weekends you head into the city center together, trying different eateries and watching fellow students challenge each other on the plaza battle court. Afterwards you’ll walk along the cobblestone streets side by side, sometimes discussing classwork or pointing out items in shop windows, but usually the time is spent in companionable silence. Just sharing the same space.

You buy your first camera acting on pure impulse, drawn to it inexplicably and handing over money to the salesman in a matter of minutes. It fits in the palm of your hand, heavy and solid, buttons and knobs staring back at you, waiting to be pressed and manipulated. For the first ten or so minutes of ownership, you simply hold onto the device, studying its shape, its lens, fingertips running over the bumps and grooves.

“Well?” Frankie prompts, gentle voice breaking the silence, brown eyes flicking between your face and the camera. Pikachu echoes the question with a tiny pika?, sensing the fragility of the moment. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you answer, shoulders curling with self-consciousness. At your feet, Shinx sits on your shoe and rubs his cheek against your leg comfortingly.

“Well,” he hums, a teasing smile growing on his lips as he presses a button. “Maybe start with turning it on first.”

“Shut up.” You swat at him, but there’s no real heat. “I meant, I don’t know what to take a photo of.”

“It doesn’t matter what the sight is,” Frankie tells you, grabbing hold of your hands and raising them up until the camera’s in front of your face. He steps back and you peek at him through the viewfinder, watching as he spreads his arms out wide with Pikachu still happily perched on his shoulder. “What’s important is how it makes you feel.”

You take a breath, taking a moment to hold the shutter button until it focuses, and then take the photo. No count down, no say cheese!—you simply heed his advice, focusing on how it makes you feel.

The preview screen asks if you’d like to keep the picture or delete it. Your thumb hovers over the buttons.

Focused on the way Frankie’s hair has a golden aura in the light, how Pikachu’s nose scrunches when she’s grinning, you nearly jump out of your skin when he’s suddenly at your side again, wondering, “What do I make you feel, shutterbug?”

Like I’m falling and flying at the same time, you think, quick and startling. A bolt of lightning amongst storm clouds.

You press save.

“Like spending a hundred bucks wasn’t a total mistake.”

Day 448

You take a seat in the cafeteria across from Yovanna and her Sylveon. You’re lucky she shares the same lunch hour as you. Even more lucky she likes you enough to also share her space. Her knack for securing a table each day despite the scrambling rush of hungry students is a gift from the gods. Or maybe it’s a perk of being the president of the Academy’s student council.

“You haven’t stopped smiling for days.” She points with her fork at your grin, a giddy, bubbly thing not even Ms. Tyme’s pop quiz last period could stifle. “Spill it. Who’re you crushing on? Is he a student here? You got a picture?”

“Not with me.” It’s a lie, ever since you bought your camera it’s been glued to your person and there’s always at least one picture of him stored within the device’s gallery of Luxio shots and library aesthetic and other things that make you happy. “He is a student here though.”

Yovanna drops her fork onto her plate, jostling the pieces of fruit waiting to be eaten. Sylveon catches a flying strawberry midair by jumping in her seat and landing neatly on four paws like it’s a regular trick to perform. “Shut up. It’s him, isn’t it?”

You feed Luxio a pickle off your sandwich, neither confirming nor denying.

But your grin does get a little bit impossibly wider.

“Aw man, I owe Santi twenty bucks now.”

Your eyes narrow shrewdly. “Did you seriously make a bet?”

“You two are joined at the hip, of course I did.” Yovanna leans back in her chair, arms behind her head, not a single hint of shame for her actions. “Santi said you’d realize you had feelings for him before winter break. I thought it’d take you until the end of the semester ‘cause you’ve got the self-awareness of a piece of concrete most days.”

“Rude.” She dodges the crumpled napkin you toss at her with a laugh.

“Hey, this is a good development. Now you just gotta keep the momentum going and tell him how you feel. You’re perfect for each other.”

Tucking back into her meal, she misses the brief slip in your smile.

“Yeah.”

Day 8

Ms. Dendra is the only teacher without a classroom, preferring to use the battlefield in the middle of the courtyard for her lessons rather than a whiteboard. She weaves along the line of students with her Medicham, offering suggestions and correcting forms to make the most out of their Pokémons’ moves. You keep one eye on her drawing steadily closer and one on Shinx pawing at the ground, charging up electricity in his forelegs. He still hasn’t mastered thunder shock yet, maybe Ms. Dendra can–

“Storm’s coming tonight,” a voice drawls behind you, a curious blend of casual and enthusiastic.

You turn around, finding Frankie standing there looking up at the sky. The dark gray clouds do seem indicative of bad weather, now that he’s mentioned it. Rain is definitely on its way. 

And then he asks, a little sudden, “You ever seen one up close?”

A strange question. Still, you think about it, searching your childhood. All you remember are memories of cowering under the blankets in your bed and playing in puddles the next morning when the monstrous rumbling and harsh flashes had long passed. You’ve seen rain up close, felt the drops on your skin, inhaled the scent of petrichor deep into your lungs. But storms? 

“No,” you shake your head, shivering as the temperature seems to drop. “Never.”

He hums, a bland note that could mean anything. At your feet, Shinx and Pikachu sit and stare at each other, little sparks of blue and yellow static crackling in the air between them like morse code. 

“No wonder you’re having trouble with your partner. Can’t teach him about electricity when you’ve never seen it in action.”

“That’s not how training works,” you retort defensively. “Also storms aren’t exactly harmless, in case you forgot. They’re loud and dangerous and—”

“Beautiful,” Frankie cuts in with such firm conviction you reel back in surprise. “Absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful.” A pause follows, and you hate the smirk that grows on his face, how it taunts you, how it makes his eyes glitter with mischief. “Or maybe not. I could be lying. Only one way to find out for sure.” 

A raindrop lands on your cheek. Then another on your arm. And another on your nose. It’s pouring now. Students are complaining about their lesson being interrupted and Ms. Dendra’s shouting for everyone to head back inside. Through it all your eyes remain locked in an intense staring match, neither one willing to surrender.

“Fine,” you reply with a sharp jerk of your chin. “Show me.”

Day 1,448

Your internship with Professor Oak is—good. It’s the start of a brand new chapter in your life, except the last chapter ended on a terrible note and the upcoming pages are terrifyingly blank if you fail to impress your new boss, so. Yeah.

You get along with the Professor’s other intern, a local boy named Will. He teaches you how to drive the ZERO-ONE around the sanctuary. You spend hours out on the trails, memorizing everything about the wild Pokémon who call the island home. You enjoy the assignments Professor Oak gives you, staying busy, filling up albums with photos and journals with research notes. 

But when it’s quiet, when you’re staring up at the ceiling waiting for sleep to come…you’ve never felt more lonely in your life. Even with Luxray within reach, loyal and constant, there’s a persistent ache you can’t shake. A loose thread dangling in your mind, tormenting you, and you know if you were to tug on it exactly where it would lead.

Everything leads back to him.

Frankie hasn’t tried to call you. Hasn’t had any contact with you since graduation. Not even a postcard from whatever corner of the world he’s trying to accomplish his dreams. 

You haven’t tried to call him either. And yes, it’s true communication is a two-way street, but he’s the one who left and took your heart with him. Why should you give him more of yourself? You hate yourself for even contemplating picking up the phone.

You hate yourself even more for wondering what your relationship would’ve been like if you’d gone with him. If it’d hurt less to just have stayed friends. If you’d been better off never knowing him at all. If, if, if…

Day 485

The problem is, you think your feelings for Frankie are just a little bit stronger than a crush. You’re pretty sure you’re in love with him. Or at least halfway there. 

As much as you hate to admit it, Yovanna wasn’t wrong saying you have the self-awareness of a piece of cement. You don’t know for certain if the fluttery Butterfree sensation in your stomach or galloping heartbeat whenever Frankie smiles at you is love. But you are certain he’s gotten under your skin, triggering as many irritations as he is encouraging new ways of growth. You’re a better person, you think, simply by knowing him.

You also think it’s actually kind of scary to imagine something so strong and life-transforming could be anything else but love. Regardless, you hope it stays with you forever. This precious, nameless thing.

It won’t be until many days later—until you know what it’s like to kiss him, and hold his face between your palms, the heat of his breath tingling against your skin; until he’s fluent in myths and legends and fables, swearing he’ll be the one to make them truths and facts and verities; until you can’t picture a future without him in it, not a happy one, at least—you’ll realize you do love him. And he loves you, too, as it turns out.

But nothing lasts forever. Someone’s always got to be the first to let go. 

Day 1,375

You receive an offer for an internship with Professor Oak in Pallet Town to help him complete his Pokémon Report by taking photos on a nearby island sanctuary. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime to work with such an esteemed researcher, but thinking about graduation creeping up, about leaving behind this realm of familiarity now that you’ve learned everything Uva Academy has to teach, it’s—moving forward is harder than you anticipate.

It doesn’t help that Frankie's becoming more and more restless, unable to stand still as if it physically pains him to do so. No matter how many walks around the city, how many storms chased after, he’s always looking out towards the horizon, aura so thick with discontentment it’s as if he’s physically cloaked in it. 

Lately the only moments he seems to settle within his own skin are when he’s talking with Ms. Raifort, discussing ancient prophecies and ruins scattered around the globe. You don’t understand it, his passionate fascination–no, obsession with mythology. Why not let sleeping dogs lie? 

Frankie won’t talk to you about the future, evading the topic like a cunning Nickit. Still you cling to his hand, to hope, to the belief love conquers all, until the morning of graduation he comes to your dorm room and stares over your shoulder rather than meet your gaze. Even Pikachu hides her face in his curls, ears lowered despondently.

You let him in, the beginnings of dread stirring in your stomach, sensing whatever he’s got to say will have irreparable consequences.

“Did you have breakfast yet?” You gesture towards the kitchen, an unspoken can this wait? laced within the question.

“Not feeling very hungry today,” he answers, glancing about the room aimlessly. No, it can’t.

“That’s a first.” You take a seat on the sofa next to Luxray, grounding yourself by stroking a hand along his back. “You gonna tell me what’s on your mind or are you gonna make me guess?”

At that, Frankie finally turns to you, and his torn expression fractures something delicate inside of you, coldness flooding your lungs.

“I’ve been thinking. About us.”

“What about us?”

“I love you.” There’s no sweetness to the words. No tenderness. They are words of blood, of pain, scraping against his throat on their way out. “I’ve loved you from day one and I’ll love you ten thousand more. But what I want, what you want—it’s not the same thing. And it’s only going to hurt the longer we keep pretending otherwise.”

“Stop, please don’t—” your voice cracks, the cold gripping your heart now. Please don’t say it. Please don’t do this. “We’re—we’re good together. You know we are.”

“We were,” he amends, voice so unbearably gentle it’s a jagged blade against your soul. “We were so good. But we’re not ready for what comes next. We’ve become thunder and lightning, one ahead of the other. Our timing is off, shutterbug.”

Day 765

It’s drizzling a little when you return to campus. You shiver in your wet dress, grimacing as you accidentally step in a puddle, thoroughly soaking your flats and bare feet. Hopefully you won’t slip on the stairs and break your neck. That’d be the cherry on top of this disappointing evening.

You just want to shower, put on your comfiest pajamas, and fall asleep as fast as possible. 

Except when you reach your floor there’s a figure curled up on the floor outside your door, fast asleep with a snoring Pikachu curled on his chest.

“Hey, sleeping beauty.” You nudge at Frankie’s knee with your wet shoe, raising an eyebrow at him as he jerks awake, blinking rapidly. “What’re you doing here?”

“Oh, you’re back,” he says through a yawn, stretching his arms over his head. Pikachu grunts, displeased at the movement and sounds, and stubbornly curls into a tighter ball, forcing him to cradle her in the nook of his arm as he stands up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I just–I wanted to make sure you got back from your date okay. How did it go?”

Your date, Tom, is in Mr. Hassel’s art class with you. He invited you to see a new photography exhibit at the city’s museum. He was nice, if a little overzealous, and seeing lovely displays of art  seemed like a better way to spend the evening instead of once again hopelessly pining over your best friend. So, you’d said yes, changed into a nice dress, and swore off any and all yearning.

Except that’s exactly what you ended up doing anyways. 

Every time a photo left you breathless, you’d instinctively turn to look for brown eyes that weren’t there. Every joke Tom made you’d compare it to one of Frankie’s. Throughout the entire evening, you couldn’t stop your thoughts drifting back towards the Academy, wondering what he was doing.

You weren’t surprised Tom cut the date short, correctly sensing your heart just wasn’t into it. Still stung a bit though watching him leave you behind to join up with some other classmates hanging out in the plaza.

“Poorly,” you answer with a slight grimace.

“Oh.” Frankie blinks, looking at a loss for additional words. He’s wearing the hoodie he got from his trip to Montenevera over the holiday break and sweatpants, warm and rumpled and cozy, a complete contrast to your entire wardrobe. “Did he–did he hurt you? Because if he did anything inappropriate, I swear–”

“What? No, no, nothing like that happened.” You shake your head, ignoring the flutter of your heartbeat, touched at his protectiveness. He’s still staring at you, and you know he’s not going to let this slide under the rug. “Relax, tough guy. Tom was fine. I was the problem.”

“Tauros shit,” he immediately rejects the notion. “You could never be a problem.”

The hallway feels too hot all of the sudden despite the icy raindrops still clinging to your skin. “That’s sweet,” you say, trying to flash a grin except the muscles in your face refuse to cooperate. It feels stiff. Forced. “You say that to all the girls?”

His mouth tugs upwards into a smile, dimpled and boyish. “Once or twice,” he says, “but I only mean it with you.”

It’s dangerous and stupid to get your hopes up, but there’s something about the quietness, something about his brown eyes and his nearness, that makes you take a leap of faith. Makes you think screw it and reach for his free hand, lacing your fingers together.

“I was the problem,” you tell him softly, watching his expression sober, “because I kept looking for you.”

Silence follows, interrupted by a quiet snore from Pikachu. 

Then, just as softly, Frankie says for a second time, “Oh.”

You swallow, feeling like you can’t breathe. “Yeah.”

“Silly girl, you didn’t need to look.” He squeezes your hand, leans in just enough to bump his nose against yours. “I’ve always been here.”

Day 1,375

Later, you won’t remember the particulars of how the rest of the conversation played out. There are words, so many words. Angry and inconsolable, spat out through clenched teeth and pleaded with numb lips. Tears, too. So many damn tears it’s a wonder you don’t drown yourself.

You will remember how he looks at you though. Brown eyes deep and golden, reflecting the morning light streaming through the window. He’s beautiful, and you think that’s the final straw of it all, the definitive proof that even as he’s ripping out your heart you will never feel anything less for him than love. 

No passage of time or miles of distance will ever change that. You know this like you know the sun will rise tomorrow, and the next day, and the one after that. 

Still, this certainty doesn’t stitch up the gaping, bleeding hole in your sternum.

No, that self-healing won’t begin until many, many days later.

Day 610 

In another life, if you hadn’t discovered your love of photography, you think you would have been a great astronomer. You know each of the constellations’ names, the best times during the year to spot them, even the tales assigned to them.

Tonight, the night sky is full of stars in every direction you look, not even the distant city lights strong enough to overpower their shine. You lie on your back in the soft meadow grass, hands resting on your stomach, the scent of wildflowers as thick in the air as the fireflies Luxio and Pikachu chase after. To your left, he mimics your pose, except he’s got an arm pillowed under his head, silent except for his breathing.

“There’s Kingler, cursed to hold up his heavy claw for eternity,” you say eventually, raising a hand to trace the starry outline with your fingertip. “Cubone’s next to him, forever mourning his mother.”

He remains silent. You turn your head to look at him, discovering he is deeply absorbed in his thoughts. Physically, you could easily reach out for his hand, but the blankness in his eyes suggests internally he’s half a world away. Somewhere you can’t follow. An irrational spark of jealousy burns hot in your veins, upset your presence isn’t enough of an anchor to keep him locked in the present moment.

You emit a quiet sigh, mentally rolling your eyes at your own childishness, and start to turn back to the sky when his voice catches you off guard, asking, “You ever notice they’re all tragedies?”

“Huh?”

“The myths behind the constellations.” He looks at you then, eyes dim with an emotion you can’t recognize. “Can you name one with a happy ending?”

You think about Pinsir, exiled due to his uncontrollable rage; Koffing, releasing toxic gases as he dies; Dugtrio, punished by an angry Groudon for gouging too many holes in the earth. The list grows longer, the tales grow sadder.

“No,” you say at last. “I guess not.”

He shrugs a shoulder, like it’s nothing, like his next words aren’t going to hurt something fierce. “That’s because happy endings are the biggest myth of all.”

Day 1,375

He kisses you. It is perfect and excruciating all at once. His hand is cupping your cheek, and his touch is so tender and intimately familiar you can’t stop yourself from indulging and it’s cruel of him to leave you like this. Shattered and wanting. Falling and flying.

But when Frankie’s right, he’s right.

This split in your paths has been a long time coming. You’d just refused to read the writing on the wall, content to keep counting the days, pretending the number would stretch on into infinity.

Infinity is just another word for forever though.

And there’s truth in that old saying: when you love someone—

“I love you,” he says again at the door. His eyes drift over your face, as if memorizing every detail. “And I’m proud of you. Remember that.” There’s the briefest of glimpses of tears in his eyes before he’s wrapping you in a hug, so tight your ribs painfully protest. You savor every second of it. “This isn’t the last of us. We’ll meet again, I swear it. One day, shutterbug.”

—you let them go.

Day 1,669

You’ve been dreading his arrival, dreading how he might look at you. What might be different. What, if anything, might be the same. 

All communication thus far has been directly with Professor Oak. You haven’t heard a single peep even though your number’s stayed the same. Even though you know he knows you’re here. 

Luxray stays close as the hour draws closer, trying to soothe your nervous energy. You stroke his mane, eyes flicking between your computer, the window, and then back again. The cursor blinks on the screen, waiting for you to finish adding the last details to the report you’ve been developing on the Pokémon signs you and Will discovered. Bizarre occurrences where the environment manifests the likeness of specific Pokémon—always the same ones in the same places. But why they existed and what they meant remained unsolved mysteries robbing you of sleep.

It had been the Professor's idea to invite another set of eyes to examine the clues after months of no solid progress. For every one step made forward it felt like the universe would shove you five steps backwards, the hidden connection remaining just out of your reach.

If you had known Professor Oak and Ms. Raifort were old friends, that she would’ve recommended her favorite pupil…well, you’re not sure if anything would’ve really changed. What fate wants, fate gets one way or another.

Frankie arrives at eventide, bringing the warmth of the fading sun into the lab with him. He looks…unchanged. Maybe a little broader, thicker with muscle from his journeys. But still familiar in all the ways that matter. You wonder if the same can be said for yourself. 

He’s looking at you, and it’s—it’s less painful than you expected. No tight band wrapped around your middle, no spontaneous bursting of tears. He’s just a man with a Pikachu on his shoulder and a dimpled grin on his face.

“Hey shutterbug,” he says, and it feels abruptly like slow motion, like you’re watching through someone else’s eyes as he comes closer, closer, closer and pulls you into a tight embrace. His arms are just as strong as you remember them, memories of graduation screaming in the back of your mind and you’re in your dorm room again watching him walk out of your life with your heart in tow.

You want to…

(kiss him, hit him, hold him, scream at him)

You want too many things.

“Hey,” you echo lamely as he pulls back. If Frankie hears the faintest of quivers in your voice, he thankfully doesn’t show a sign of it. You shoot a small grin at Pikachu, mouth stretching wider when she returns it with a cheerful pika pi, waving her paw. “Ready to help solve a mystery?”

“I always wanted to make history.” He’s smirking that same damn smirk, an intense pang of nostalgia striking you. Your fingers twitch, wishing you had your camera. “But I think it’s better this way, yeah?”

“What way?”

Distantly, you’re aware of Professor Oak and Will watching the conversation ping-ponging back and forth, both smart enough to pick up on the unspoken something between you and Frankie. 

“Making history together,” he says, as if it’s obvious. “We make a good team, you and I.”

The words bounce around inside your head for a moment. A good team. Is that all we are? is what you want to ask, but the answer’s a double-edged sword shoved between your ribs no matter how he phrases it. 

So you swallow the question down and bury it. 

“C’mon,” you gesture towards your computer, “I’ll show you what we’ve got so far.”

Day 128

Winter sweeps in, all frigid winds and frosted windows. Together you stay at the Academy during the holiday break. It’s days of no homework, snowball fights, and parka coats. Nights spent by the fireplace, hot chocolates topped with whipped cream, wishing you could bottle these memories in a jar and keep them on a shelf.

If Frankie knew about it, he would say Jirachi heard your wish, but it’s your opinion that fate’s just got a funny sense of humor. Either way, a few years down the line you’ll have the collection of memories you desired, almost all of them starring him. They won’t be kept in fragile jars, but in captured photographs unaffected by the withering flow of time. Little glimpses of a happy life, and how much you've lost.

Day 2,000 

You kiss Frankie on the front deck of the L.E.N.S. the night before he’s scheduled to leave. It’s stupid and impulsive, but he’s just right there in front of you, bathed in starlight and high off the elation that comes with solving another Pokémon mystery, further securing his place amongst the pages of historic exploration, a legend in his own lifetime, and there’s no thoughts in your head so—you kiss him. 

It isn’t your first kiss, but it feels like something new. He’s got stubble now, you’re wearing a lab coat—little details of proof you’re far from the kids you used to be. He smells the same though, like coffee and evergreens and fresh rain. The quiet, awed exhale of your name, like you’re something wonderful, something mythical come true, is the same too. 

And for the briefest of moments, you can almost imagine you’re together again.

But in the end it’s just a kiss, not a time machine. 

Day 1,762

“For someone with a new career, you don’t look very excited,” Will says, knocking his shoulder against yours good-naturedly. You try to summon up a smile, but it isn’t fooling anyone.

Professor Oak’s treating you both to a fancy dinner at a restaurant you can’t pronounce the name of, celebrating the news of your new job as an official field research photographer working alongside Professor Mirror in Florio. It’s an amazing step forward, resulting from the success of the Rainbow Cloud discovery with Frankie, certain to give your name another added boost of recognition in the photography community. 

“I am,” you say, remembering how you’d nearly passed out when you received the offer. Another attempt at a grin yields better results. “It’s gonna be great.”

Will tilts his head, a knowing look in his eyes. “You’re thinking about him. Again.”

“Not intentionally.” Your lips curl into a rueful grimace, fingers twisting together in your lap. “He just…never leaves my thoughts.”

Frankie told you before he left he didn’t have a home, not anymore, too much of a restless spirit to stay in one place. You wonder if his answer would be different, if he knew it’s been 1,762 days and every one of them he’s spent occupying your head.

“Even when he’s gone and left you behind?” From anyone else, the question would’ve been harsh, but your friend’s eyes are kind, full of empathy. 

There’s a second where you contemplate lying, but you can’t. Not to him, and not to yourself.

“Especially then.”

Day 2,000

“Sorry.” It comes out of your mouth stilted—not because you don’t mean it, but because your heart’s beating like a thunderstorm. A wildness you haven’t felt in years.

“I’ve never needed an apology from you.” Frankie looks at you softly, the brown of his eyes getting lost in the dark. “Two thousand. Can you believe it? Seems like just yesterday I watched you walk into class.”

You forget sometimes that he’s the sentimental type too when it comes to those he cares about. It’s why he doesn’t give Pikachu a Thunderstone, and why he only knows how to play one song on a guitar, his mother’s favorite. How sweet it is, to learn he must care about you to keep count, maybe even love you a little bit still.

“Frankie,” you start, dropping your forehead onto his shoulder. His nearness is a comfort as much as it is a distraction, but this conversation is long overdue by hundreds of days. “What are we?”

“You tell me.” A hand comes to rest on your waist, a searing brand through the fabric of your clothes. “What do you want us to be?”

You think about the question for a long moment, wondering what words pack enough meaning to give the answer it deserves.

What you want is another storm to chase, another constellation to trace. What you want is for your hands to brush during walks, never having to hear his voice on the end of a phone again because he’s right there by your side. What you want is everything that once was to align in perfect harmony with the immediate now.

“I want us to be together.”

“We are.”

“No, we’re not,” you murmur, staring down at the mud stains on his boots. 

“Listen, shutterbug,” his hands move to your head, one tilting up your chin and the other gently palming your neck, forcing you to meet his gaze, “a lot can happen in two thousand days–”

“I know, I know.”

His fingers spasm, like he’s resisting the urge to tug on your hair, eyes sharpening at the interruption. “A lot can happen in two thousand days,” he repeats, and you hear it this time, the heavy weight in his tone. Rarely is he this serious. “We’ve changed, we’ve grown, we’ve been on opposite ends of the earth from each other. But tonight, of all places, I’m here and you’re here.”

And maybe it really is that simple. People say lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice, but twice now you’ve watched him go and twice he’s been brought back to you. 

You reach up, wrapping your hands around his wrists, holding him there. “Do you think we’ll ever be what we were?”

“No.” He steps impossibly closer, lips brushing against your forehead. “I think one day we’ll be better.”

Better, you mouth the word. It feels like a promise, like a turning point. 

“Yeah, one day,” you agree, heartbeat steadying, matching the rhythm of his beneath your fingertips. “It’ll be worth the wait.”