led laces

Your hands are Really Nice- Jughead Jones

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: (requested) Reader is too shy to tell Jughead about her feelings, so Veonica and Betty take matters in to their own hands (mostly Veronica)

Warnings: Swears, fluff so much fluff I couldn’t even deAL

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Being in love with your best friend isn’t easy. It feels taboo, like it’s wrong, and unhealthy. You’ll lay awake at ungodly hours of the night, wondering “How did this happen?” You’ll replay every moment of every waking minute you spent with them, wondering how in the world you ended up lying on your floor with an empty bowl of ramen beside your head and imagining what it would feel like to kiss them. You’ll catch yourself admiring the tiniest insignificant things about them, and every detail of their stupidly cute face, and every indent and curve and freckle on their body, and let me tell you, it sucks. Falling in love with your best friend isn’t easy, especially when your best friend is Jughead Jones.


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The Prince in the Castle

The people were disappointed in the prince in the castle.  They had become accustomed to a certain type of ruler, charismatic and easy.  Their king was just such a man.  Court was opened regularly to all petitioners, and subjects came from far and wide to see the king, to bask in his friendly smile and the love that shone between himself and the queen.  They ruled with wisdom and kindness and the people felt at ease in their presence, sure they would be listened to and cared for.

The prince did not inspire such trust, nor such love.  He stood at the edge of the court, hands behind his back, shoulders straight, and looked above the heads of the people who would one day be his to rule.  He would not meet their eyes.

He was cold, and the people asked themselves, Who is he to have such ice in his veins? How could he, when his parents shine so bright?

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*picks a character with a casual outfit*

* still ends up making armor that locks out use of dominant arm*

So that’s like 75% of a Galra arm done. I’m holding off on doing the hand until I decide whether or not I want to lace purple LEDs through it. I’m a little sad the design is so simple, because painting took all of 20 minutes and I really like painting. 

Miracufic Made Me Do This.

I warned you, @miracufic


He didn’t listen.

She’d told him to leave. The akuma was too much. Too strong. He needed to get out of there so one of them could protect Paris. She had been caught, unable to escape. Her Lucky Charm had failed and her transformation worn off, a simple bedsheet tossed over her head in the last possible second by Chat Noir the only thing protecting her identity from being known by the akuma, and thus Hawkmoth himself. There was no way to break her out of the trap, so Marinette had relinquished her miraculous to Chat in order to protect it and ordered him to leave her behind to face her fate alone.

And he didn’t listen.

Instead, he stayed, her miraculous curled protectively in his fist as he attempted to face down the akuma alone to save her. Her stupid, beautiful, selfless cat. He ignored her screams and cries. Her pleas. He stayed and he fought instead. And then he did something truly unforgivable. He apologized to her and told her that he loved her before activating his power right over the heart of the akuma.

After the drama with Dark Cupid, Marinette had asked Tikki what happened if Cataclysm was used on a living person. The Kwami had been reluctant to answer and had to be prodded into admitting that the power of destruction, if used on the living, would indeed have the absolute worst consequence. Marinette had assumed that to mean that the power would kill the person it was used upon, and shuttered a little at the thought before putting the idea far, far from her mind.

Now though, she was forced to face a reality even more horrible than the one she imagined.

Now she had to watch, helpless and stunned, as the power of cataclysm consumed not only the akumatized victim, but Chat Noir himself. Attacking them painfully and drawing out screams that burned in Marinette’s ears like acid and fire.

And when it ended, the trap that Marinette had been caged in was gone, along with the akuma who made it.

And Chat Noir.

It took nearly an hour before Marinette found the power to move. She had to crawl to get to the place where Chat and the Akuma had disappeared, all evidence of their extrusion gone save for the jewelry that sat innocently on the floor. A simple, silver ring that looked horrifyingly familiar in a way that Marinette didn’t want to consider too closely and a set of black stud earrings.

Marinette didn’t remember scooping the jewels up, but they found their way into her hands nonetheless, cutting into her skin as she clutched them to her chest and cried.

Eventually, someone found her and called an ambulance. Her parents came to pick her up from the hospital and the police came to question her, worried about the fact that the damage to the city hadn’t been reversed the way it usually was when an akuma attack ended, but she didn’t say a word to any of them, too far gone to acknowledge anything other than the stones in her hand and the lack of something she hadn’t even realized was there until it was ripped violently away from her. Hoping she’d feel better in the morning, her parents led her to bed, lacing water with sleeping pills in order to ensure her a dreamless sleep. She closed her eyes with the miraculouses still clenched in her bleeding fists, determined not to lose the one link she still had to her cat.

And yet when she awoke in the morning, both the ring and the earrings were gone.

Marinette destroyed her room searching for the precious magical stones, scaring her parents into intervening. She ignored their questions, their fear and worry and broke free, running like a woman possessed to find the massage parlor of the mysterious old man who had given her the power to become a superhero.

Only Fu had vanished, leaving behind only a simple apology letter and nothing else.

This, Marinette realized, was what losing everything felt like. What it was to be completely helpless and lost and in so much pain that nothing else could register. There was no coming back from this. No magic spell or lucky charm to make the damage go away and guarantee a happy ending.

She had lost.

And she wasn’t at all surprised when the little black butterfly absorbed itself into the letter she clenched in her hand as she sobbed her broken heart out. Almost welcomed it as it numbed her pain when a smooth, alluring voice rang out seductively in her head.

“So we meet at last, my dear Ladybug…”