#I lied the reason I held these doodles off was because I really wanted to draw the show characters and never got around to it

[palossssssand]

Osmosis jones doodles that I’ve been hoarding for literal years for no reason

[canonicallyanxious]

“was today a nothing day to you?”

Druck | Fatou/Kieu My | 1.1k words

Prompt from an anonymous donor on ko-fi: “ Kieu My and Fatou heading home together from school or something, maybe some shameless banter, and Kieu My wants to hold Fatou's hand but is nervous about doing so in public.”

-

First of all thank you so much for supporting me on ko-fi!!! I deviated very slightly from the prompt in that this is not them walking home from school but a canon compliant missing moment that takes place after the museum date clip in episode 6. i hope you enjoy!

“I think I need to head home soon,” Fatou said, squinting at her phone.

Kieu My watched her quietly, something in her chest clenching and unclenching without her telling it to.

(Strange, the things her body did that were wholly out of her control. She hadn’t asked to feel this dull ache in the pit of her stomach at the thought of this impossible day coming to an impossible end but here she was anyway.)

“I can walk you to your bus stop,” Kieu My said.

The skin between Fatou’s brows creased into a tiny frown, an expression which Kieu My couldn’t help but find endearing. “If it’s not out of the way for you.”

“It’s not,” Kieu My lied. “Who do you think I am, anyway, letting young girls walk home in the dark?”

Fatou laughed and pushed at Kieu My’s shoulder, too gentle to be truly threatening. That was also endearing. “Aren’t you a young girl too?”

She could feel her mouth quirking up into a smile. “Maybe so.”

There was a moment where Fatou’s hand lingered, briefly, at her shoulder. Just long enough to be noticed, just short enough that maybe it could be passed off as an accident. She looked up, and their eyes met; Fatou smiled. It occurred to her, then, that maybe Fatou didn’t intend for her to think it was an accident. 

A braver girl, probably, would catch Fatou’s finger in her own, thoughtless and full of the kind of easy confidence that was real.

(She could only wonder what it would feel like to be a girl like that.)

She watched as Fatou’s arm fell back down to her side.

“Okay, then,” Fatou said, smile still lingering at the corner of her mouth in a way that made Kieu My want to kiss it, just to see what it would taste like. “It’s about five minutes this way, I think.”

Five minutes was not nearly enough time.

Though what would be enough for Kieu My’s greedy heart? She didn’t have a good answer to that. 

(She just knew there was a part of her that craved to linger around Fatou for as long as she could, soaking up her warmth and her gentle way of being like a hungry sponge; and that part of her was nearly bottomless.)

Kieu My pushed her hands deep into her jacket pockets as they began to walk. “I hate this stupid weather,” she said. “It gets dark so fucking fast. Always makes me feel like I’ve done nothing with my day before I’ve even had the chance to eat dinner.”

Fatou hummed tunelessly. “Was today a nothing day to you?”

Kieu My thought about the latest page in her notebook - no words written on it, no doodles scribbled in the margins because she’d been paying attention to something else entirely and the thing was she didn’t even regret it. In that exhibit she and Fatou had walked circles around each other like a dance neither of them could hear the music to, blue lights bathing Fatou in a soft glow that seemed almost otherworldly. 

(When she’d craned her head back to watch the film, she hadn’t seen stars; she’d seen Fatou’s eyes instead.)

“No,” she said, and dared to meet Fatou’s eyes.

Only for a moment, though. Fatou’s gaze grew soft when it caught on hers, and Kieu My looked away before she could quite stop herself. She had imagined that spending the day with Fatou (the whole day!) would have soothed the shakiness she always seemed to get in her hands whenever she came too close to Fatou and maybe turned into something that made her feel steady. Something she could get used to one day.

But it was quite the opposite, as it turned out. It was a small miracle her heart hadn’t yet pushed itself out of her chest and run somewhere far away.

(And yet. She couldn’t quite shake the feeling that when it came to Fatou, there was no such thing as too close.)

“Yeah,” Fatou said. “Me neither.”

They walked in silence for a while. Kieu My couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her. It seemed so damn easy to kiss a girl she liked under the cover of a dark room, no one around to see them or make assumptions about her she knew would make her skin crawl if she heard them. It was easy - to be around Fatou, at least. She made it easy. What did it matter what anyone else thought so long as Fatou was looking at her in her particular way, that way that made her feel like they were the only two girls in the entire world?

But in the end Fatou was Fatou, and Kieu My was Kieu My. She knew herself painfully well; she always made things harder than they needed to be.

Because what if out here she took Fatou’s hand, and Fatou pulled away? Wasn’t that what had happened the last time? It would be gentle because Fatou was nearly always gentle with her, with everyone; but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t still hurt like hell.

It would hurt worse, maybe, in some ways. Out here there was nothing but cold air between them, nothing but inches of space between their hands. Nothing to hide behind; nothing to use as a shield against all the ways this one person could ruin her. Which was fucking scary.

(What was even scarier was that Fatou made her want to risk it.

Who in this whole galaxy would be worth it, if not her?)

“This is me,” Fatou said then, jarring Kieu My out of her thoughts. They slowed to a halt in front of the bus stop and turned to face each other almost in tandem, which for some reason made Kieu My laugh a little. She smiled down at her shoes.

“Thank you,” she said.

There was a long pause. “For what?” Fatou said finally, confusion clear in her voice.

(For being you, Kieu My didn’t say.)

She shrugged instead. “A good day,” she said, which felt safer in some ways.

(Not all of them; absurdly, her heart still kicked itself painfully as the words left her mouth, as if she was telling Fatou a secret when in reality she was telling her practically nothing at all.)

Something brushed gently against her cheek, startling her into glancing up. Fatou met her gaze steadily, the corners of her eyes soft with understanding.

Her hand, Kieu My thought hazily. Fatou’s hand was against her cheek.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Fatou said.

On an impulse - driven by her touch against her face, maybe, or the look in her eyes - Kieu My reached up to take hold of Fatou’s hand.

“But I want to,” she said.

To that, Fatou said nothing. 

She only curled her fingers around Kieu My’s, and held on.

(Strange, really, the way Fatou always seemed to know what she wanted to hear.

Or maybe it wasn’t strange after all.)

[missdawnandherdusk]

Slytherin Extensive Dating a Malfoy Headcanons:

Here’s to all of my lovely Slytherin followers!

You’re sorted into Slytherin and you don’t quite understand why, but there had to be a reason. Draco didn’t quite understand either but not like he cares. pffft. nope. 

You’re a odd Slytherin. No one can deny your ambition or hesitancy to do things just right, but there are some times that you surprise everyone

Draco thinks you don’t belong in Slytherin but damn you’re good at Quidditch

You play as a Keeper. He thinks that it’s stupid but you give him a flash of your smile and maybe he’s forgotten what he’s supposed to be doing on the field too

He swears your part veela because people just stop and do things for you all the time

“Oh, I’ve forgotten my quill, does anyone have an extra?” There are about ten at your disposal from others that you always return with that same distracting smile not that he noticed 

You always get out of trouble, no matter what it is. With Filch or Snape or McGonagall. You just had a way with words and it frustrated him

And oh the way you snark at Potter. It’s not cruel like his normal taunts but you always have a way to sneak that smile in and a wicked quip leaving both he and Harry gaping after you

When Buckbeak goes to attack him, you’re right there, smiling and speaking softly to the beast and it backs down, charmed like everyone else “It’s alright, there’s no need to feel threatened, just calm,” Buckbeak then lets you and Draco approach and you give him that smile and the boy is a goner

“Malfoy?” You call his attention. “Huh what?” He blinks. “Are you alright?” You laugh and maybe he wasn’t paying attention the first time you asked him

You always looked so put together and confident whenever he was around, whenever he noticed you, you were always smiling and flawless and it wasn’t fair in his opinion because it just looked so effortless

First years from any house are hanging onto your every word because you’re always there to show them the way or give them advice on how to get on a professor’s good side which has him sulking because you never talk to him like that

Oh but wait until someone crosses you. He thought you had the patience of a saint but bloody hell 

One of your friends lies to you constantly? Someone betrays you? Oh you have receipts and evidence lined up against them. People from other houses and different years are at your defense because they know it just like you do. You’re ex-friend is a backbiter and damn Merlin if they think you’ll let them get away with it and honestly Draco can’t decide if he’s scared or turned on when he sees the fires of hell in your eyes

But then you catch sight of him and your smile is back and you wave and he’s gawking because yeah he’s definitely both scared and turned on

Even though everyone whispers around the school about what went down, you still hold your head high and still look flawless

But one night he finds you in the Slytherin common room, sitting in the window seat, watching the murky water of the lake, crying silently Draco starts panicking because what is he supposed to do you’re always put together what do you mean you’re crying alone

“Uh... are you okay?” He has no idea why he’s asking, but he can’t just leave you here... can he? 

You immediately wipe away your tears and smile, but Draco can see right through this one. He leans against the wall beside the window, waiting for you to explain

“Am... am I really vindictive, manipulative, and controlling?” You seem so insecure as you hug your knees. “I... I know Slytherins are cunning and ambitious... but I don’t want to be a bad person...”

He’s staring again because you always seem to keep him on his toes for trying to figure you out. And he’s never seen you as anything less than perfect and he’s not stopping now. You’re just more real

“You’re not a bad person,” He finally says, sitting on the window seat with you. Teary-eyed you look at him, and now he’s furious towards whoever thought they could make you think you’re a bad person

You laugh hopelessly and again, wipe away your tears. “Thanks Draco,” It’s the first time you’ve ever used his first name

He just nods and leaves you to your thoughts again. Now he’s asking around to what could possibly have you so upset and doubting of yourself even though you’re still put together in the halls, your head held high and maybe he hopes that someone might understand him back he’s not as put together as he seems either

You often come to him now when you’re really stressed out and you don’t want anyone else to know, but you know Draco won’t tell anyone nor judge you

Sometimes he just knows where to find you when you’re thinking alone and he has some sort of sweet, or tea, or something. You two just sit together, not saying anything, but not acting like you have it all together either

You notice in Fourth Year that Draco starts to slip through the cracks of falling into being like his father and you know he’s scared to be like his father but you also know what it’s like to not know what else to do

Draco notices that you’re getting a lot of attention from Viktor Krum and his school buddies. They all seem to have fallen for the same smile that he did but they couldn’t have you, they would never understand you like he did. How dare they even think it

“Do you want to go to the first task with me?” You ask him and he snaps his quill because Merlin how do you move so quietly “Me? Why don’t you go with one of your Durmstrang blokes?” He snaps. 

You gape at him. Sure, you knew you were getting attention from those guys, but was it really enough to make Draco jealous? “I don’t want to go with them, they’re entitled uncivilized imbeciles.” You scoff. “I want to go with you. Idiot!” Then you storm off. 

Draco realizes oh my stars I fucked up shitshitshitshitshitshit uh um bloody hell what to i do

So he chases after you and grabs your hand in the middle of that hall between classes so there are students everywhere

“I’m sorry,” He rushes out and you tilt your head, waiting. “If... if you still want to go with me...” 

“Malfoy bothering you?” One of the Durmstrang asks, coming up beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder and Draco’s blood just boils

But before Draco can get his wand out, you have the guy on the floor groaning in pain taking him down muggle style and Draco has gone back to being scared and turned on You smile at him and take his hand, on your way to the pitch to watch the task

He guesses that you’re dating now? No one ever offiaclly said anything and not much has changed except you always find him in the halls and hold his hand and maybe his most recent batch of Amortentia smells just like your perfume and favorite sweet... And maybe yours smells just like his cologne and favorite tea...

He eventually gets the words out: “Do you want to go out with me?” He’s stuttering and blushing because you two are alone and he doesn’t have to be Mr. PerfectTM and you’re smiling at him again and you’re making it so difficult for him and you know it

“Well duh,” You finally laugh. “You’re so dense sometimes Dray,” 

Everyone thinking that you are the EliteTM couple on campus because of how well you both charade perfection...

When you’re really just total goofballs. You like doodling stupid things on his notes and he always has a cheesy pickup lines at the ready. You two flirt but it’s more like banter because you’re already his and Merlin does everyone ship it 

Tickle fights / “For you my lady,” “Well thank you kind sir,” / Inside jokes / Maybe a prank or two that eventually escalates and ends when Draco has vibrant blue hair and you get the last laugh but merlin does he look good

His parents and your parents believe that they have the perfect couple between you two. Such decorum and tradition, and refinement. (And you and Draco are flying upside down on your brooms, running barefoot through the Manors, making a mess in the kitchen trying to bake without magic, blasting music in the halls and singing off key and dancing) Narcissa knows all of this and adores that you bring such joy to Draco’s life

Umbridge has met her match with you. She is completely enchanted with you, even though you’re running an underground network against her at the school and she doesn’t have the slightest idea Draco is so impressed and Merlin does he love how cunning you are

When No Nose comes back and fear is a constant lingering in the school and amongst Slytherins, you slowly drop your prefect facade and let others know it’s okay to not be okay. “Little Miss Perfect isn’t so perfect is she?” “No, but I am real,” 

You get fascinated with Dark Magic, because well, everyone keeps talking about it and you think that it’s stupid to be afraid of something you don’t know about so you learn and it doesn’t seem so scary when you realize there are counter curses and jinxes that spread like wildfire in the school in an underground network you and Hermione set up

Draco takes the Dark Mark, and so do you. You won’t leave him on his own. You want loyal and cunning and ambitious? Bring it No Nose who honestly believes that you’re on his side and for his cause because who can lie to him? You can.

 You stay at the Manor with Draco during the holidays. It’s almost vital that both you and Draco pull your masks of perfection back on for the sake of surviving. Which leave you both doing things that has you breaking down in each other arms in the quiet of the night because how did it come to this?

Using the same underground network, you feed encrypted information to the Golden Trio and Hogwarts. You always go down and talk with Luna and keep her company behind a silencing charm or two

You punch Pansy in the face when she suggests handing over Harry. 

You and Draco both stand with Hogwarts during the battle. You actually laugh when confusion breaks out across the Death Eaters and No Nose and you have the urge to scream “I’m a Slytherin! Who did you think you were dealing with!?” And maybe you do

After the war it’s hard facing anyone because for so long they thought that you and Draco had gone dark side, but slowly tensions ease and things get better and there’s a light at the end of the table.

You and Draco redeem the Slytherin House and later after you’re married to each other, McGonagall comes and asks you to teach and to be the Head of House for Slytherin

Tags: @coffee-addicti @msmcsmutt @ravn-87@artemismohr18@whygz @crazywritingbug @fuzzy-panda@bitemebro522 @zombiesnips-blog @jillanaholland@shookyungsoo @savingdraco@welcometomyworldwithoutrules@akari180 @slytherin-emerald@chaotic-good-gemini @memalfoy-spidey@theres-a-dog-outside-omg @queenfeatherwings@fanficflaneuse @go-whovian-universe@spicyshenanigans@darling-im-not-okay-i-promise@dietkiwi@katsukink@takemetothekingdom @strangerr-things@tmnt-queen@mccloudchloe @hxneybgb@justsomerandomgur @belcvayelena@moviesbooksandfandoms@howdycharlie@xtrashmouthxtozierx @cocochanelthepupper@ninacotte@mccloudchloe @braelynn-j@jiggllyy @honeymarvel@go-whovian-universe@darcypottah@atomicpunkrock @thiccheerioss @lottie289@boredashaeck​ @beautiful-pegasus @tceedlmao @deadlynyghtshayde @iconjuresnapeingrandmaclothes @anonymous034 @bi-andready-tocry @lunna-does-real-doodle @dragonsandbread @atomicwonderlandmentality @okaydraco@the–queen-of-hell@langdonzvoid @cmxreader @alienmotel @oh-itsnothing@tulippings @thestressedprincess @sunflowerxsadnessw@caps-wilsonn @fattycooter @angelotakunerd08@thisisahugemistake @fanficsigottaread​ @gweaslvy​ @okaydraco​ @strawberriesonsummer​ @ughjjloveme​ @honeymarvel​  @gaysludge​ @cleopatera​ @ray-of-sunrise​ @artist-bby​

[aerynwrites]

If you're still doing marcus requests... do you think you could write something where he just broke up with Teresa and is preparing to go to DC, and the reader is his best friend, but she tries to muster up the courage to confess that she loves him before he goes? Thank you 💕

AHhh this is so cute! Thanks for requesting this! <3

Stay

Marcus Pike x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: tiny bit of angst followed by fluff!

Love is a funny thing. 

It’s a funny thing simply because it can be so many things at once. It can be a warm slow growing feeling that begins as butterflies in your tummy before eventually moving it’s way into your heart. It can be an all at once feeling that seems to blow you off your feet. It can be a comforting feeling that reminds you of home and all the wonderful things that come with it. But it can also be sad. It can make your heart ache and your fingertips tingle. It can make your stomach roll in anxiousness, and make your mind run wild with all the different outcomes. But most of all, love is a powerful thing, able to make even the strongest man crumble beneath the weight of it all. 

Which is what happened to your best friend. 

You watched as Marcus experienced everything that love is, before the woman of his affections snatched it away when she realized her true feelings lied in another. While you were there as he cried on your shoulder and held you tightly in his arms as his grief ran out of him like a river, you couldn’t help the small sense of relief that washed over you. You too have experienced what Love is, except it was for the man who had cried in your arms, for the man you knew you could never have because he only saw you as his friend. 

You too knew that Love can be sad. 

You witnessed the awful ache that spread it;s tendrils through your chest when he told you he was leaving. You felt the way your stomach seemed to turn in on itself as you stood outside his door, ready to lay everything before him, no matter the outcome. Because you also knew all the good that Love can be, and that outweighed the bad, tenfold. And if there was even the slightest chance that Marcus could return the love you held for him, then you had to take that leap of faith.

You stood outside of Marcus’s apartment, wringing your hands together nervously as you built up the courage to knock on his door. It had been several weeks since Teresa had broken things off with Marcus, broken his heart. And now, he is leaving for DC, having told you the news over one of your weekly movie nights with empty Chinese takeout containers lying on the coffee table. You had held back your tears, shielded your crumbling heart as you hugged him and wished him the best. Because that;s what friends are supposed to do right? Encourage each other to pursue what’s best for them and what they want to do. Yet, as you hugged him and he hugged you back, you were unaware of the other heart breaking right across from yours. 

Marcus didn’t want to leave you. In fact he had hoped you would reduce his plan, ask him to stay so he had a reason too. Because, unbeknownst to you, Marcus had only pursued Theresa because he never thought he could have you. He hadn’t realized this until later, after he had been talking to you one night after the break up. But it seems even you didn’t want him around enough to ask him to stay. So he made the arrangements to go to DC, hoping time away from everything would help him forget. 

Marcus was actually packing the last of his bags when you took a deep breath and knocked firmly on his door. You shifted from one foot to the other anxiously as you waited for him to answer, and you felt your heart rate speed up as you heard his footsteps nearing the door. When the lock clicked and the door was pulled open to reveal the face of the man you loved, you felt a small if somewhat nervous smile come to your face. 

“Hey Marcus,” you greet quietly.

He beams at you, holding the door open wider to guide you into the apartment, “Hey, I didn’t expect you to come by,” he says, closing the door behind you and shoving his hands into his pockets as he looks around the mostly empty apartment, “I’m not really in the best spot to entertain right now,” he jokes.

You shake your head and send him a small smile, “You know I don’t care Marcus,” you say, “I just came by too…” you trail off, unsure of how to segway into what you want to tell him, “I wanted to see you again before you left,” you say finally, eyes falling to the floor. 

His eyes soften at your words, as if he himself had forgotten that he's moving across the country. He shifts on his feet for a moment before finally speaking again, “Why do I feel like that’s not the only reason you came all the way across town?”

You feel tears well up in your eyes at his words. Ever the FBI agent, trained to notice all the little things. Before you can stop yourself you launch yourself into Marcus, wrapping your arms around his middle and burrowing your face in his chest. Your tears soaking through the white t-shirt he’s wearing.

“Please don’t go, Marcus,” you beg quietly, voice wet with tears, “I don’t know what I’m going to do if you go.”

 After his momentary shock at your sudden actions, Marcus wraps his arms around you tightly, resting his head atop your own, your name falling from his lip, “I’ve already made the transfer...and all of my things have been moved down there. I can’t just-”

“I love you.”

Your voice is barely a whisper as the words slip past your lips, but Marcus hears them, and you feel his entire body tense, but you don’t move from your position in his arms. Instead you pull him tighter to you, afraid if you let go he’ll run away.

“That’s what I came here to tell you,” you admit, “I’ve felt like this for a while now but never said anything because I didn’t want to ruin what we had, and then you and Theresa -”

You hadn’t even been able to finish your sentence before Marcus was pulling you away from him, cradling your face in his hands and crashing his lips to yours. It didn’t take you long to respond, your body melting into his, as your hands rested on his wrists. Your tears seem to flow harder now, mixing together where your lips meet as you are bombarded with an onslaught of mixed emotions. Your lips move against his naturally, as if you both had done this a million times despite this being your first kiss. Marcus pulls away slowly after a few moments, both of you desperate for air. His hands stay where they are, his thumbs wiping at the tears on your cheeks, as your own hands fall to his chest. 

“Marcus? W-what, why did you-”

“I love you too,” he rasps, resting his forehead against your own, “I didn’t realize it then, but I love you so much, and I only used my relationship with Theresa as a way to try and smother my feelings for you.”

You pull back from him slightly, his hands falling from your face to rest on your hips instead, “Why didn’t you say anything?” you whisper, confusion tugging at your brows. 

He chuckles and shakes his head, “Same reason you didn’t,” he says, “Because I’d rather have you as a best friend than not have you at all.”

You smile at his words, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment before looking up at him, “Well I hope after that kiss we can be more than best friends now.”

Marcus lets out a laugh and nods, “I think I can agree to that,” he says quietly, his demeanor turning sheepish before he speaks again.

“Stay the night?” he asks, pressing a short kiss to your lips, “Please?”

You smile and return the kiss quickly before nuzzling your head into his chest again, “Of course, Marcus. And I hope you’ll call and cancel that transfer tomorrow.”

Marcus smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before resting his cheek against it once again, content to finally be holding you in his arms. 

 “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

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Marcus Pike Tag: @stanfordscrush

[recurring-polynya]

Tokusatsu Au where Rukia plays the lead actress in a superhero action show. Renji plays one of the villains and they are The most popular ship in the fandom. Bonus points if Orihime plays the main villain and loves every second of it.

This was the very first prompt I got, and I fell in love. Unfortunately, aside from a brief period of being grotesquely fascinated with Power Rangers as teen, I know almost nothing about tokusatsu. I did as much research as I could and I attempted to watch an episode of Kamen Rider, but my eyes glazed over halfway through. Anyway, please forgive my inaccuracies, I wrote this with my heart.

ao3 | ff.net

🏍    ⚡   🎬

“Uh, looks like we’re almost out of time,” the panel moderator for “High-Spirited Battle Clairvoyant Tomoe!: A Sneak Peak at Season 5” declared, “but would you be willing to take just a few audience questions?”

Head Screenwriter Kurosaki Ichigo glanced at Leading Actress Kuchiki Rukia out of the corner of his eye, and she gave a tiny nod.

“Yeah, sure!” he replied.

There was already a young woman waiting at the microphone, practically vibrating with anxiety. She was wearing a t-shirt that had ZabiTo4Ever!! handwritten in marker on it. Rukia knew, deep down in her bones, what the question was going to be.

“Hi, yes, hello, big fan of your work! My question is: are Tomoe and Zabimaru going to kiss this season?”

“No,” Rukia started to say.

“As you probably know,” Ichigo said loudly on top of her, “the show holds close to the core plot points of Kuna-sensei’s manga, although, because of her minimalist style, we do expand a lot of the dialogue and filler scenes. She has said in several interviews that High-Spirited Battle Clairvoyant Tomoe! is not a romance manga, so the odds of Tomoe and Zabimaru ever kissing on screen are very, very low.”

The young woman stared at Ichigo grumpily. “Does this also count Zabimaru’s secret college student identity, Satonako Takeru?”

Ichigo stared back at her. “Yes. It does.”

The next question came from a person wearing a full suit of HellKnight’s plasma armor made out of overlapping plates of cardboard. Rukia was kind of impressed by it. She wondered if he could sit down.

“Hi, Kurosaki-sensei, I am a huge fan of your work,” a voice emanated from deep within the cardboard. “I was wondering if you are influenced at all by fanworks, and if Episode 73: Pride is on the Line!: The Bake Sale Must Go On! was based in any way on the classic fanfiction, ‘Tell Me All Your Best Lies’? It’s the top story by kudos in the ZabiTo tag, which I might point out is the most popular shipping category on AO3.”

Ichigo cleared his throat gently. “I am contractually not allowed to read fanfiction, although I do enjoy fanart! There are some incredibly talented artists in the fandom, although for some reason, no one ever wants to draw pictures of Lead Screenwriters.”

“I’ll draw you, sleeping on the set like you always do,” Rukia offered, and that got a pretty big laugh. Rukia’s Tumblr of behind-the-scenes doodle comics was beloved among the fandom.

The next question was from a nonbinary person wearing a big poufy skirt and a hairstyle that would make their make-up and hair guru, Yumichika, sit up and take notice. “Hi, this is a question for Kuchiki-san! If the show is going to roughly keep pace with the manga, as it has done up until now, you should be shooting the storyline where Tomoe and Queen Bloodbuzz switch bodies later this year. I was wondering if you could comment on how you feel about filming that storyline?”

Finally! A good one! “Yes!” Rukia nodded eagerly. “I don’t usually like to speak for my fellow cast members, but Orihime and I are beyond excited about playing each other. We’ve been studying each other’s mannerisms and practicing already! Does anyone want to hear my Queen Bloodbuzz cackle?” She wagged her eyebrows as the audience cheered. “Here goes-- bwaHaHaHaHAHAHAHAAHAAAHAAAAAAAA!”

“Bonechilling,” Ichigo commented dryly as the audience erupted.

“Amazing, Kuchiki-san!” the moderator exclaimed. “I think there is time for one more, but this will be the last question!”

A tall girl in a full set of High-Spirited Battle Clairvoyant Tomoe motorcycle leathers stepped to the microphone. She was holding a notebook. “Hello!” she warbled. “In a 2020 interview with the Psychics and Sidekicks podcast, Abarai Renji was asked about his opinion on ZabiTo as a ship, and he replied,” she consulted her notebook, “‘Tomoe is such a cool lady and talented Battle Clairvoyant, and she always follows her heart and stays true to herself. I think that Zabimaru can’t help but be impressed with her, even though they’re enemies, and I always try to roll that into our on-screen interactions.’ I know that in the past you’ve refused to comment on the ship, but I was wondering if you had any thoughts on, y’know, his thoughts?”

“Well, he’s correct, of course, Tomoe is very cool and admirable,” Rukia replied, which drew a few laughs, although it seemed like the audience was leaning forward in anticipation of her answer. “Like I said, I don’t like to speak for other cast members. I’ll be doing a big cast panel with Abarai and Inoue and Matsumoto and Ukitake tomorrow afternoon, and I hope you all can make it! See you then!”

The moderator thanked them enthusiastically, and then Ichigo and Rukia slipped out the back guest entrance.

“Evasive as always, Kuchiki,” Ichigo teased.

“Whatever,” Rukia sniffed. “The higher ups say we’re not supposed to comment on stuff like that, and I was not commenting. By the way, how many secret fanfic accounts are you up to? Four?”

“It’s only three!” Ichigo paused. “I wrote that fanfic the guy brought up.”

“Of course you did,” Rukia sighed. “I do blame you personally for the popularity of the damn ship.”

“Me? Blame Kuna for making up two such sexy, emotionally constipated dumbasses!” Ichigo defended.

“Also, it’s not Ichigo’s fault that you and Abarai have insane chemistry.”

Rukia spun around, grinning. “Orihime!”

Rukia’s two co-stars, Inoue Orihime and Abarai Renji, the portrayers of Tomoe’s demonic archnemeses, stood in the hallway behind them.

“We sat in on your panel!” Orihime beamed. “You two were brilliant!”

“Don’t worry,” Renji added. “We were incognito.”

“Incognito” was relative, Rukia supposed, when you were at Tokyo’s biggest tokusatsu

convention.

Orihime was wearing a Zabimaru outfit so detailed that she probably could have won a prize down at the cosplay hall. She had the gravity-defying ponytail, the eyeliner, the insane widow's peak (complete with forehead tatts), the fangs, the motorcycle boots. The paper mache snake skull helmet was a little lopsided, but it was charming. She had her top zipped a little higher than canon, but that was forgivable, too.

Renji had taken the opposite tack of looking as much like a normal person-- or at least a normal Battle Clairvoyant Tomoe superfan-- as possible. Relaxed fit jeans and an oversized hoodie de-emphasized his ultra-fit physique. He was wearing a t-shirt with a very dramatic rendering of Orihime that said “Queen Bloodbuzz can step on me!” and a ball cap with the logo of Seireitei University, the fictional college Tomoe and Takeru attended.

“You think you’re in disguise,” Rukia pointed out, “but there are thousands of teen girls in this place with entire Tumblrs dedicated to your stupid face when you’re out of costume.”

Renji cocked an eyebrow at her. “You underestimate me, Rukia. I have bought… new sunglasses.” With a flourish, he whipped out a pair of the dorkiest wayfarers she’d ever seen, and flipped them onto his face. “I’ve disappeared! Who am I? Where am I?”

“You look really great, Orihime,” Ichigo said, his cheeks coloring a little bit. “Did you get Uryuu or Yumichika to help you with that costume?” In his continuing theme of doing things he wasn’t supposed to, Ichigo had finally started dating Orihime on the downlow around the time they finished up filming last season. It had done absolutely nothing for how shy he still got around her. They were, in Rukia’s opinion, cute as hell.

“Oh, no, that would be cheating!” Orihime replied, wagging a finger at him. “Well…maybe I did cheat, just a tiny bit. Renji helped me make the helmet and he held up references for me while I was painting on the tattoos.”

“Only the forehead ones,” Renji quickly added.

“He wouldn’t even offer feedback on my booby tattoos!” Orihime frowned. She leaned forward. “Rukia, how do they look?”

Ichigo turned even redder.

“Perfect, as in all you do!” Rukia replied loftily.

“What’s everyone got coming up next?” Renji asked. “I was thinking of slipping out and trying to pick up some real coffee.”

“I’m judging a villainess-themed cosplay competition,” Orihime chirped. “But I’m dying for a blueberry caramel iced latte. Renji, my henchman, pleeeeease!”

“Of course, my liege,” Renji replied in his Zabimaru voice.

It’s not like it had been a hard decision to accept the role of the motorcycle-riding, badass heroine of one of the most popular manga of the last decade, but it had turned out to be one of the best decisions of Rukia’s life. not just her career. Aside from a few of the money-obsessed executives, she liked nearly everyone in the cast and crew, but the fact that the fact that the ruthless, homicidal, literally Hell-spawned villains of the show were played by the two sweetest marshmallow people she had ever met just took the cake. Renji and Orihime had already known each other from some voicework they had done previously, and their excitement at working together on a live-action project had infected the entire cast from the start. Rukia wasn’t sure, but she strongly suspected that Renji was the one who had hyped Orihime up to ask Ichigo out.

“I have a writers’ workshop I’m moderating this afternoon, and I wanted to review the writing samples people sent in,” Ichigo said, scratching the back of his head. “I’d love to stop by that cosplay contest, though, at least for a few minutes.”

“You’ll be needing caffeine, too, then, eh?” Renji offered. “Hot, black, and in the largest cup they make, as usual?”

“Ugh, you’re the best,” Ichigo groaned. “You wanna power-up this season? Costume update? You know what? Maybe I’ll just have you defeat Tomoe once and for all, no one likes her anyway.”

“C’mon, you know I’m the world’s number one Tomoe simp, don’t do that!” Renji laughed.

Rukia rolled her eyes. “I’m free and I could use some fresh air. Besides, it’s going to take all your dumb muscles just to carry Kurosaki’s vat of coffee back here.”

“Cool!” Renji proclaimed. “We’ll be back soon!”

“Thanks, Renjiiiii!” Orihime waved.

“You need to stop off and put on a disguise?” Renji asked.

“No point in it, I always get recognized,” Rukia sighed, pulling her sunglasses out of her purse anyway.

“Here,” Renji said, plunking his hat on her head. “Maybe this will help.”

“Thanks,” Rukia replied, and then did a double take. “Whaaaaaat is on your head?”

“Shut up!” Renji laughed. He usually shaved his head when they were filming, because it made it easier to deal with the make-up and wigs, but since they were between seasons, he’d grown his hair out into a short, tousled mop of reddish-brown waves. He looked, for the lack of a better word, dreamy. “I shot a movie over the summer, and they wanted me to look softer.”

Rukia looked at him over the top of her sunglasses. “You didn’t tell me you were doing a movie!”

“Oh, it was just a little indy romcom thing. I wasn’t sure it was gonna pan out, I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

“You were in a romcom? You’re kidding me!” They ducked out of a side door of the convention center into the bright sunshine.

“Yeah, it’s about a guy who goes to the gym to try to get ripped to impress a girl, and makes friends with me, this nice, already ripped dude who gives him lifting tips and encourages him a bunch. By the end of the movie, it turns out we have crushes on each other.”

“Oh, no, that sounds really cute, actually!”

“It was written by a woman who graduated from one of Ichigo’s writing workshops. The script was really snappy and Ichigo thought having someone like me as the gym guy would give it just a bit of campy cachet. You know what a good sense he’s got for stuff like that.”

“That was cool of you to go out on a limb a little,” Rukia replied.

Renji rubbed the back of his neck. “I’d been wanting to try something like that for a while, actually.”

Rukia blinked. “You aren’t… you aren’t thinking of leaving the show, are you?”

“Huh? No. No! No, the show means the world to me, I would never. But… it’s not gonna run forever, y’know?”

“I would have guessed you’d want to be a big action star or something!” Rukia said, throwing a few air punches. “That’s my dream!”

Renji stuffed his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “Yeah, that’s what I thought I wanted when I first got into acting. I’d read the Tomoe manga, and I thought playing Zabimaru would be a good jumping-off point, besides just being a cool character overall.”

“Is that… not true?” Rukia frowned.

“Oh, I mean, I guess so! I didn’t really know about the fandom, though and… to be honest, I’m kinda into the idea that there are all these fans who think I’m complex and redeemable?”

Rukia regarded him out of the corner of her eye. “They just want to fix you.”

“Maybe! Ichigo made me read this one fanfic that was eight thousand words of the reader getting sick and Zabimaru making them soup? And feeding them the soup? I still haven’t decided how I feel about it.”

“How does he have time to find these things? Does he even sleep?”

“Anyway, it doesn’t hurt to be well-rounded and it was fun. I’m still mostly an action guy, but I wouldn’t mind doin’ something with a romantic subplot. A period drama or something like that. I look pretty good in hakama, you know.”

“I bet you do,” Rukia laughed. She squinted at him, but his expression was unreadable behind the shades. Renji didn’t have the classic leading man looks, not like her ridiculously famous older brother, but she could definitely see him as the best friend, the B-plot romance, with his cute, messy hair and that big doofy grin.

“By the way, I’m sorry you had to field that question about me spilling my romantic sensibilities on that podcast.”

Rukia laughed. “You didn’t even answer the question, either! These people are relentless!”

Renji stopped at a street corner and peered down the various possible directions they could go. “Which way feels like it might have a coffee shop?”

“You didn’t have one in mind before we left? I thought you knew where we were going!”

“Nah, I just like to go out and see what there is.”

“I can look up a map,” Rukia said, reaching in her bag for her phone.

“Let’s just go this way,” Renji said, stepping out into the street in the direction that had the WALK light. Rukia sighed and had to scramble to catch up with him.

“So, what do you think about it?”

“Huh?” Rukia asked. “Think about what?”

“Our ship. ZabiTo.”

“I can’t believe you just said that word out loud. And you know we’re not supposed to give our opinion on it!”

“Aw, c’mon, we’re not supposed to give public statements on our opinions. I don’t think there’s any harm in talking between ourselves. We’re in disguise, even.”

“‘Disguise’,” Rukia sniffed.

“You don’t like it, I can tell.”

“He’s a bad guy! Everyone always talks about chemistry, and that may be true, but I just don’t think that Tomoe could ever get over his acts of violence and cruelty.”

“Queen Bloodbuzz is cruel. Zabimaru is not cruel.”

“Okay, that’s fair, but still. He’s kidnapped just about all of Tomoe’s friends and or turned them into monsters at one time or another. He’s always setting Karakura Town on fire or flooding it with magic lizard goo. He ruined the sports festival.”

“Maybe the sports festival deserved to be ruined,” Renji muttered under his breath.

“Okay, you’ve got a point on that one,” Rukia admitted.

“It’s really clear though, that he’s got some agenda beyond just simping for Queen Bloodbuzz--”

“The simping for Queen Bloodbuzz is the most relatable thing about him, to be honest.”

“Granted. But, what if he’s got a good reason for everything he does, actually? What if he’s doing all of this against his own moral code as a means of infiltrating Hell itself and getting himself into a position of trust so that he can bring down the Lords of Hell from the inside?”

Rukia slipped her sunglasses down to the tip of her nose. “Does Kuna give you Zabimaru spoilers?” The reclusive creator High-Spirited Battle Clairvoyant Tomoe! was only barely involved with the television show, but she did privately meet with each of the cast members about once a year. Most of Rukia’s meetings consisted of Kuna giving her constructive criticism on her battle poses.

“No, mostly we practice sneering,” Renji replied. “But I gotta play the guy, so I gotta think about this, you know, what motivates him? I mean, you’re probably right, it would never work out. But unlike Tomoe, whose principles would call for her to ignore any attraction she has to him, Zabimaru has the freedom to pine for her, perhaps because his love is futile and he doesn’t think he deserves it anyway.”

“That’s kinda dark, dude,” Rukia frowned.

“Yes, well, that is the kind of character acting that netted me the 2019 Nickelodeon Kids’ Choice Best Villain Award, Foreign Language Category.”

“That’s literally what’s going through your head when you’re shouting that if I can’t make some sick motorcycle jump, you’ll turn all my friends into stuffed animal versions of themselves?”

“No, of course not! At those times I’m thinking about how much I love my job. OH! and what is that I see!” Renji struck an extremely Zabimaru pose. “A MISTER DONUT!”

“My hero!” Rukia exclaimed, unable to resist an opportunity to shout dramatically. “I’m sorry I doubted you!”

“I think we should get some donuts, too. Orihime loves donuts,” Renji declared.

“Oh, for sure,” Rukia agreed. She was thoughtful for a moment. It would be easy to move on to a different subject, the subject being donuts, but she wasn’t happy with leaving the last conversation hanging. “Look, Renji, just because I don’t like the dumb ship, you know that’s not a reflection on you, right?”

“Huh?” Renji replied. “You mean you don’t mind if I like it?”

“Well… I mean, I don’t, I guess, but what I really meant was, er… we joke a lot, but Tomoe and Zabimaru are just parts, y’know? Just because I don’t think Zabimaru isn’t good boyfriend material doesn’t mean I…” Rukia trailed off, suddenly realizing what she was saying. “Um. What I mean is. You’re very nice and probably one of my favorite people I’ve ever worked with and if someone I knew wanted to ask you out, I would definitely encourage them to, A+ guy, I’d say, probably would make a great boyfriend.”

Renji pushed his sunglasses up onto his forehead and regarded her for a long moment. “For the record, Kuchiki, I think that both you and Tomoe would make excellent girlfriend material.” While Rukia stood there and gaped like a fish, he turned and pushed open the door to the coffee shop. “Ichigo likes crullers and Orihime always wants the most colorful thing they’ve got. Do you know what you want?”

“I need to think about it,” Rukia squeaked. She wasn’t talking about donuts.

🏍    ⚡   🎬 

Bonus: Here are my notes from when I was making up the show. I hope this wasn’t too confusing!

High-Spirited Battle Clairvoyant Tomoe!

based on a manga by reclusive mangaka Kuna Mashiro

Head Screenwriter: Kurosaki Ichigo

🌟 Starring: 🌟

Kuchiki Rukia as Yukimura Tomoe, a spunky college student who can see ghosts and fights demons from Hell! She rides a motorcycle!

Inoue Orihime as Queen Bloodbuzz, a Lady of Hell, who seeks to gather energy from the Living Realm so that she can become the Supreme Ruler of Hell. Very aesthetic. Much bees.

Abarai Renji as Zabimaru, Queen Bloodbuzz’s ruthless henchman. He leads a double life as fierce-looking, but gentle-hearted college student Satonaka Takeru! What is his long game??

[the-navistar-carol]

Intervention

Good God help me I’m back on my Garmari again. AGAIN. Class salt, but not Alya, Alix is neutral (so minor Alix salt?). Chloé redemption, but it’s not mentioned. Also, members of the new team at the end are PV Félix and his Gucci Gang

~~~

Marinette never thought she’d thank Chloé Bourgeois, of all people, for her boyfriend.

Backtrack.

A year and a half ago, their end-of-year class trip was the best one they had had or ever would. Funding, from Chloé’s father, went to a weeklong trip to San Francisco. They toured Alcatraz, the different neighborhoods, the Ghirardelli factory, and walked the Golden Gate Bridge.

None of those events even came close to the Teen Titans’ tower in San Francisco Bay. They didn’t go inside, obviously, but almost every day, in their allotted free time, she found herself at a harborside café, sketching the tower and designs that came to her from it and its team.

It was those quiet times that, incidentally, got her into contact with the team shapeshifter, Beast Boy.

Marinette had been sitting on a dock for a change, doodling idly as her legs swung from a bench — she was still too short for her feet to touch the ground at fifteen. Tikki dozed in her purse, stuffed full of chocolate.

As the sun began to make its way toward the horizon, she got up and placed the sketchbook in her backpack. Then, like the sun, she began to head home.

That journey would quickly be delayed. A man, hood up and all in dark clothes, snatched her purse and took off like a shot.

Tikki!

The Parisian girl sprinted after him, shouting for help. If she had been transformed, perhaps she would have taken him down faster.

But perhaps it was for the better. A green blur shot out of an alley and knocked into the would-be thief with a forceful missile kick, quickly apprehending the man. Marinette skidded to a halt to avoid running him over, and was caught in a pair of dark brown eyes.

Oh, hello there.

He grinned toothily, and held up her clutch purse. “Does this happen to be yours?”

“Oui!” Marinette’s hands flew to her mouth, and she couldn’t help but flush in embarrassment. “Oh! I am sorry, yes, it is.” Despite years of learning English, she couldn’t help but stammer with her accent.

The green boy fished out a pair of cuffs and locked them around the thief’s wrists, and kept a hold on them with his left hand as he held out his right. “I’m Beast Boy. Nice to meet you, though it would’ve been better under different circumstances.”

She shook his hand, and couldn’t help a sheepish smile. “Well, um, if you would like to try again,” Marinette suggested, already flushing, “I will be close to Hyde Street Pier, on the waterfront, close to three o’clock tomorrow.”

His grin only widened. “Can’t wait!” Beast Boy hauled the man to his feet, and glanced back at her. “Oh, hey, by the way — what’s your name?”

“I’m Marinette!”

“See you tomorrow, Marinette!”

That fateful encounter sparked a close friendship, which blossomed into an even closer relationship.

Marinette was grateful that the stars had aligned that day. She wouldn’t be where she was in life without him, if she was being completely honest.

She and Gar were open about their identities to each other, and when he came over on his bimonthly visit via Zeta tubes, they spent their days inside cuddling, watching movies, and playing video games.

The only thing that irked both of them was the fact that their relationship was one-hundred-percent secret from the press, as neither wanted that publicity.

Ergo, they couldn’t be seen in public together.

Therefore, they couldn’t go on dates, no matter how much they wanted to.

At least they had reached a compromise. Until Hawkmoth was defeated, on her own terms, they couldn’t be seen together. Even if her own terms, which would take more time, involved no outside help.

When Lila Rossi entered Françoise Dupont for the first time, Marinette didn’t have to be Ladybug to see through her lies. She claimed extravagant tales of meeting American superheroes on her mother’s travels — of the Teen Titans in New York City, of the Batfamily in Gotham, and of some group she had completely made up — the Gems of Justice, of all names.

Yeah, no. She didn’t have to be a superheroine to spot the bullcrap a mile away.

She tried to keep the whole situation quiet, though, she really did. Marinette didn’t want to burden Gar with class drama. After all, she was well aware that they only had so much time together.

But just like how she had tried to keep being Ladybug from him, that plan fell through in a matter of hours.

He held her when she sniffled over Lila’s threat, and let her slump back into him as she described how her classmates (sans Alya, bless her heart) were riveted by this Italian liar nobody who somehow held their attention.

She held onto the hope that they would all see reason, sometime.

That hope shattered when Alya moved away. Her parents wanted out from the living nightmare of Akumatown, as all four of their daughters had been akumatized at least once apiece.

Marinette sobbed, for the first time alone in the city of love.

It was midnight when she called him on her first night without her bestie, bawling into the phone line.

It was twenty minutes past when he showed up on her balcony, and she almost tackled them both over the railing. She let her emotions pour out onto his shoulder and he held her tight; and when she ran out of tears to cry, he held her until she fell asleep in her bed.

In the morning, he let her sleep in a little bit, and made her pancakes (with green food coloring, of course, because how else would he?). She cried again upon seeing the food, but there were thankful tears mixed among the sad ones.

Marinette left her house with her head held high.

Without her rock Alya at her side, Lila’s digs and jibes became worse. She took the mental hits, took the comments. Snide words turned into sneering faces turned into trips in the hallways, turned into destroyed work.

She resigned from the class presidency, choking down tears.

How could she have let it get this bad?

She should have stood up to it, so it could have stopped before it all began!

Oh, Alya…

Trips in the hallways turned to shoving at the steps, turned into stolen things.

Garfield, in the Titan Tower, had had a slow week. He’d only gone to visit Marinette a few days ago, but when Raven flicked his shoulder and told him he was moping, he headed off to the tubes to pay his girlfriend a surprise visit.

He emerged in Paris and immediately morphed into a bird, flying high above the city. He didn’t want the attention that came with his ability, not today.

As her school wasn’t out yet, Gar soared around Paris, taking in the sights. No matter how many times he came to the city, the views still left him amazed.

And Marinette with him, when they could go to those places, would leave him breathless.

As the hour wound closer, he headed over to Collège François Dupont, and took a perch on one of the flagpoles, content to wait for the time being.

The bell rang to let the classes out, and he shifted on his seat, eager to catch a glimpse of his girlfriend.

There!

She was one of the first out, and he readied his wings to swoop down to her and sweep Marinette off her feet. He was almost in flight when he stopped dead, dread washing over him like a tidal wave.

A tall Asian boy with an undercut and bleached hair hurried after her, his sneakered feet hitting the cement with a self-righteous purpose.

And a pack was following him.

Her classmates — a pale girl with long black hair, a dark-skinned boy with close-cropped hair, a short blonde girl, a tall blonde boy, and more — were in close pursuit.

And behind them strode a brunette, her wedged heels clicking with her own purpose. Green eyes watched all as her lips curled into a deadly, sickly smirk.

All attention was on Marinette, who hurried to go home, shoulders hunched.

He had left her alone like this.

“Hey!” the Asian boy called, and a robot whizzed in front of his girlfriend, bringing her up short.

She froze, and slowly turned to face him. Marinette was dwarfed by his massive frame, and she was terrified of what might happen next.

His hands came to rest on his hips, and he cocked his head in a leer. “Don’t think you’ve gotten away with what you’ve done.”

“Huh?” Her tone was shrill, it was panicked. “Kim, I didn’t do anything!”

An ugly frown twisted his face. “Then maybe you’ll remember!”

Faster than she could react, his hand raised and descended.

But Garfield reacted faster.

In a blink, he took off like a shot and dove down at the Asian boy, then shifted back to human form midair to launch himself at the boy feet-first like a missile. His boots hit the boy in the back of the neck, and man, was he satisfied to see him fall.

“G- Beast Boy?!” Marinette’s panicked whisper told him she was only a hair away from a complete breakdown.

The classmates hurriedly backpedaled, clearing a ring for him in the crowd that was quickly forming.

Gar hauled the boy — Kim — up by his hoodie collar. Despite his scrawny figure, he was lean, and packed a punch.

“I don’t like bullies,” he hissed as his eyes narrowed to slits. Kim quaked in his grasp, catching a good look at his fangs. “And if I catch you even looking at her wrong, you’ll wish you had never met her.”

Someone in the crowd was foolish enough to step forward and speak up. It was the dark-skinned boy with glasses, and his robot had flown back to be at his side. “My calculations prove that there is a ninety-percent chance that Marinette is the one at fault.”

He felt his girlfriend shrink beside him. It was tempting to shift into a tiger and intimidate the lot of them.

But instead his lips twitched into a smile, instead he grinned. The hook in his mouth had never been so cold.

“Then I suggest you check your calculations, buddy boy.” The class flinched back from his tone alone — it flashed knives, razor-sharp and ready to cut.

“All of you better watch your backs, ‘cause I’ll be waiting for an opening.” His voice spilled from his throat in an angry growl. If he had been a tiger, his tail would have lashed.

“I’m giving you one warning. Scram.”

The class took off and scattered, one of them even darting into the street.

Gar didn’t spare them a second glance before turning back to Marinette and hugging her tight. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, closing his eyes and inhaling the scent of her perfume. “I should be there for you, not an ocean away.”

Her arms snaked around his sides and clutched him tight. Her entire body was shaking like a leaf, so he gently rubbed her back.

“Hey, hey. Marinette, let’s get back to your room, okay?” Any trace of the snarl he had bared at her classmates was gone; his voice was gentle now, it was soothing.

She sniffled, and hiccuped once as she tried to get her breathing under control. “Okay.” Her voice was quiet, subdued. There was no trace of the sassy girl he had met who loved life fiercely with all her heart.

Anger built inside him but he dispelled it, thanking Raven for forcing him to learn meditation.

After he picked up her bag, Gar wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. “It’s not that far. You can make it.”

Another subdued “okay” was all the response he got.

He led her across the street, ignoring the looks passers-by threw him and even the phone cameras.

Once she was inside the bakery, a shocked gasp let him know Sabine Cheng had seen them. She rushed out from behind the counter to hug her daughter tight, then led the two of them to their living room upstairs.

After he had set down her bag and the three of them were seated on the couch, Sabine with her arm around Marinette and Garfield holding her hand, his girlfriend finally broke down, sobbing into her mother’s shoulder.

“Do you want me to make tea?” he offered, knowing Sabine didn’t want to leave her daughter’s side.

The older woman nodded. “Please. Peony.”

He gave Marinette’s hand a squeeze and got up, finding the kettle and mugs easily. While he waited for the water to heat up, he sat back down next to her.

Sabine looked to him, gray eyes piercing. “What happened, Garfield?”

He told her everything. How he had watched her come out of the school and saw Kim go straight for Marinette on an offense she hadn’t committed.

“It’s Lila,” his girlfriend muttered, her voice muffled by her mother’s shirt. “She’s influenced them all except Alix.”

That didn’t help matters.

“But Alix didn’t defend you,” Gar told her gently. “They all, one way or another, abandoned you.”

Marinette hiccuped, finally looking up at him. A bolt of pain shot through his heart at the face looking him in the eyes — red-rimmed eyes, tear-stained cheeks, and a running nose.

“They abandoned me,” she repeated, her voice hollow. “I have nobody.”

“You’ve got me,” Garfield reminded her, taking her hands and squeezing them tight. “You’ve got two parents who love you more than anything in the world. And, if I called them now, you have the Teen Titans. All of them would stand for you. Every last one of them.”

The kettle whistled, and he got up to steep the tea. He heard Sabine murmur to her daughter in Cantonese, things he didn’t understand but knew the intent. He returned to the couch with three mugs balanced carefully on a tray, and set it down on the table.

“Mrs. Cheng, I don’t know if you’ve considered it, but have you thought of moving schools?”

She nodded, and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I have. And I think that it would be best.”

Marinette didn’t even flinch, just numbly nodded. His heart broke to see her so lifeless, and he pulled her into a tight hug. He almost had to blink back tears of his own, and rested his chin on the top of her head.

“Let me help with this, Mrs. Cheng. Please.”

Sabine nodded. “I will. How long are you going to stay in Paris?”

“As long as I’m needed.”

And he did. He stayed.

Garfield was the one to march into Françoise Dupont to deliver the paperwork to Damocles, his chin up and shoulders back. Even if he was at average height — and shorter than a good half of the school — they cleared a path for him, the school yard silent enough to drop a pin.

He didn’t spare them a parting glance.

Gar was the one to walk her to her new school, where she was mobbed by Kagami, Luka, and Chloé. They thanked him, each thank-you heartfelt, and he grinned, knowing his girlfriend was in good hands.

He was there for her first week, and went back to the Tower knowing she had friends to support her there.

And when Hawkmoth was finally defeated months later, with a new team and a new Chat Noir, he pulled Marinette into a searing kiss as the rain began to wash Paris clean.

[jaskiers-sweetkiss]

Sunset Swerve - Part 8

Pairing: Luke x OC

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: some light swearing

A/N: For some reason I really want to say ‘We’re in the endgame now” about this chapter but its not true? We’re in like the mid-game lol. Anyway, shoutout to @meangirlsx who unknowingly inspired some of the dialog between Luke and Jordan in this chapter with her tags on a previous chapter. Send me a message if you’d like to be added to the taglist and, as always, let me know what you think!

Part 7  Masterlist

___

When they arrived back in the studio, they had not expected it to be filled with music.

Julie grinned at them from behind her keyboard and everyone else stopped playing at their arrival.

“Grab your guitars, we’ve got work to do.” Even without saying it, it was obvious that the girl had forgiven Luke and Jordan wondered what Alex and Reggie had said to her.

Jordan did as she said, heading to her stand and slinging the strap of her electric across her body while Luke headed straight toward Julie.

“What made you come back?” He asked the question Jordan had been wondering herself.

“I realized how much music meant to all of us, and we’ve lost so much already.” The way Julie said it made it seem like she knew more than Jordan would’ve expected and she wondered again what the boys had told her. “We can’t lose this too.”

“Thanks,” Luke nodded thoughtfully, slipping the strap of his guitar across his body. “Alright boss, where we at?”

Julie smiled, settling into her place at the keyboard before leaning forward again. “Oh, and by the way, happy birthday.”

The genuine smile that drew from Luke sent a pang through her chest and she frowned, wondering if it was another one of those jolts. However, as she looked around she noticed none of the boys felt it. Oh hell, she cursed herself silently. She was so lost in her thoughts that she nearly missed Julie’s instructions to start at the pre-chorus.

Jordan was grateful for the distraction of the music, all her focus going into singing and playing, no room for stupid thoughts about stupid boys. Practice ended too quickly for Jordan’s taste but she knew realistically that Julie needed time to get ready and travel to the venue while they could just poof around. She just needed Luke to do something stupid so that she could remember why she hated him because her stupid smooth brain (Julie taught her that) had forgotten it.

Instead, he turned and directed his dopey smile at her and she swore she nearly swooned.

“We are gonna rock those managers’ faces off!” He exclaimed as they put their instruments away.

Jordan grinned back at him, silently blaming it on the rush of playing well and having a performance soon. She was always more agreeable around music. Out of the corner of her eye though she thought she saw Reggie and Alex share a knowing look and she glared at them suspiciously.

“Yeah man, it’s gonna be awesome,” Alex responded to Luke and the rest of the ghosts nodded in agreement as they shuffled around the studio getting ready for the performance.

Jordan decided to keep the outfit she’d been wearing all day, fishnets and her old black Madonna t-shirt under a pair of overall shorts and her Docs. With her outfit and hair already taken care of thanks to Past Jordan, she was just left to slap on some makeup, thankful that she hadn’t done it before she’d spent the afternoon crying. Luke sat down on the couch next to her, watching curiously as she worked.

“Do you mind?” She asked, looking away from the small mirror Julie had lent her to stare blankly at the boy.

“Nope!” He responded cheekily and she groaned, turning back to her mirror and her eyeliner.

She’d finally managed to get the wings down again, making only one mistake this time, so the process went by fairly quickly.

“Do you need me to do yours?” She deadpanned, turning to stare at Luke who was still watching her.

“Nah,” he breathed, smiling cheekily at her as he flipped his imaginary hair over his shoulder. “I’m naturally gorgeous, I don’t need makeup.”

Jordan gasped.

“Asshole!” She exclaimed, smacking his shoulder but laughing anyway. “You’re lucky it’s your birthday or it would be on sight for that.”

“‘On sight’?” Luke asked, puzzled.

“Some twenty-first-century lingo Julie taught me,” Jordan explained superiorly. “Basically means I’d fight you as soon as I saw you.”

Luke nodded lightly, eyes going wide at the threat but slowly a mischievous look began to take over his face.

“Hey Alex, Reg, who would win in a fight? Me or Jordan?” Luke called out and Jordan rolled her eyes, putting away her makeup stash.

“Jordan,” they both answered at the same time and Jordan laughed, giving them both high fives as she returned her makeup to her designated cubby in the back of the studio (they’d had to create an official organization system because the boys tended to just take anything they found and claim it as their own).

Luke pouted, sitting on the couch with his arms crossed like a petulant child as he glared at his bandmates.

“Sorry, man,” Alex shrugged, “Have you seen her boots? She’d absolutely curb stomp you without a second thought.”

Reggie nodded and Luke huffed, standing up from the couch and making his way to the door.

“You guys are mean,” he whined. “I’m gonna tell Julie.”

He’d meant it to be a threat but the other three ghosts weren’t fulling listening, only hearing Julie’s name.

“Oooh, I wanna see Julie!” Reggie exclaimed and Alex and Jordan responded with a chorus of ‘Me too!’s and ’Same!’s as they began clamoring around the furniture in the studio in a race to the door.

Luke rolled his eyes, grumbling under his breath as he followed after them.

When they arrived at Julie’s door, Reggie held his arms out dramatically, effectively halting the movement of the three ghosts behind him. Once he felt sure they weren’t just going to barge in he stuck his arm through the door, knocking three times while the other ghosts rolled their eyes or laughed.

“What are you guys doing?” They heard Julie ask through the door and Reggie stuck his whole torso through.

“We’re being classy,” Jordan snorted at that and Luke huffed, pulling Reggie back through by his belt loops.

With Reggie out of the way, Luke stepped through the door but at the sight of the girl sitting on her bed, all thoughts of tattling left his mind.

“What’re you doing? We go on in twenty minutes,” he asked as the rest of the ghosts stepped through.

Julie was sitting on the bed doodling on her mic, still in her clothes from earlier.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

“I lied to my dad,” Julie explained forlornly, “So now I’m stuck in my room all night.”

“Yeah but like, the venue is packed with VIPs and managers,” Alex protested and Joran hit his arm.

“She’s grounded, the presence of VIPs and managers isn’t going to change that,” she huffed and Julie gave her a tight-lipped smile.

“What’re we gonna do about my aunt? She’s right downstairs.”

“Your aunt,” Luke repeated, chuckling as he crossed the room, throwing open her bedroom window. “You’re not taking the stairs.”

Jordan opened her mouth to defend the girl, never having been as big a fan of going around her parents’ backs as the guys had been, but before she could say anything Julie grinned at the group of ghosts.

“Okay. Let me get dressed, I’ll meet you guys there,” she said and the guys all grinned while Jordan looked at her nervously.

“Are you sure, Julie?” She asked warily and Luke whacked her arm with the back of his hand.

“Moss, don’t change her mind!” He hissed and Julie laughed.

“Thanks for the concern Jo,” she said, giving the girl a kind smile and Jordan felt her heart warm at the new nickname. “But it’s fine. We have managers to impress.”

She nodded and the ghosts prepared to poof out to the venue when Jordan stopped them again.

“Wait!”

“What now, Moss?” Luke groaned.

“I wanna grab my flannel.”

“Why?”

“It’s chilly.”

“You’re a ghost you can’t-“

“Shut up.” She said, ending their back and forth by poofing into the studio and grabbing one of her flannels from her cubby.

When she poofed back to Julie’s room the boys were gone and Julie was sifting through the trunk in her room.

“The guys went ahead to the venue,” Julie explained and Jordan nodded.

“Alright, I’ll see you there then,” Jordan nodded. “By the way, that vest is super cool.”

Julie smiled in thanks before Jordan poofed away to meet the guys at the venue.

___

The announcer had just called Dirty Candy to the stage when Julie arrived.

“Am I too late?” She asked, slightly out of breath.

“Too early,” Flynn huffed, gesturing up to where Carrie was taking the stage.

Jordan couldn’t figure out how she felt about Dirty Candy. On one hand, Carrie was the spawn of a fraud who she’d always hated and Carrie was mean to Julie and Flynn but on the other hand, the group was really talented and she loved their sound. She supposed it was like her feelings towards Sunset Curve, she loved the music but hated the musicians.

“Wait, did she just make a big show of putting on sunglasses just to throw them away in the first verse?” Jordan laughed, furrowing her brow in confusion at the choreography.

“Shhhh,” Alex hushed her, staring enthralled at the performance.

Before they knew what was happening he was on the stage, dancing with the group.

Jordan whooped excitedly, cheering him on while the rest of the group exchanged looks of surprise.

“You having fun out there?” Julie questioned when Alex poofed back to the group.

“It’s not my fault. It’s my, um… it’s my feet.” Alex gulped.

“Yeah,” Julie said, clearly not believing.

“Put me back in coach,” Alex breathed, poofing back to the stage.

“Why have we been keeping him behind the drums?” Jordan joked as they watched him dance out the rest of the song. “He’s got moves.”

Reggie nodded enthusiastically in agreement, their eyes never leaving the stage.

“I was just doing that for you guys,” Alex said when he returned and everyone expressed varying forms of disbelief.

“Mhmm,” Julie hummed while Luke and Jordan rolled their eyes.

“Yeah, you can’t stop smiling now,” Reggie smirked knowingly and Alex blushed.

“That was, actually kinda good,” Julie admitted, looking as though she’d rather cut her tongue off than admit it. Jordan knew what that was like.

“Yeah, I forgot why I hate her so much,” Flynn agreed.

“Hi girls,” Carrie said in her overly-perky voice as she made her way over with her entourage in tow. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“Now I remember,” Flynn pursed her lips, glaring at Carrie and Jordan snorted.

“If you’re looking for nick, he didn’t come,” Carrie addressed Julie coldly.

“That’s not why I’m here,” Julie scoffed, squaring up to the pink-haired girl.

“Okay, we have one more act tonight,” The announcer called, reading off the list on stage. “Julie and the Fat Ones?”

Dirty Candy snickered while the rest of them turned to glare at Luke.

“Yeah man, my handwriting sucks,” he admitted and Julie shook her head, making her way onto the stage while Carrie and her group stomped off.

“Hey. It’s actually Julie and the Phantoms,” Julie greeted the audience, quickly realizing they didn’t seem to care. “Okay.”

Jordan rocked back and forth on her heels excitedly as Julie placed her hands on the keyboard, beginning the song.

“Hearts on fire. We’re no liars, so we say what we wanna say,” she sang, the apathetic audience starting to pay attention. “I’m awakened, no more faking. So we push all our fears away.”

“Don’t know if I’ll make it cause I’m falling under. Close my eyes and feel my chest beating like thunder.”

Jordan took a deep breath, steadying herself as their time to join in approached. She reached out, grabbing Alex and Reggie’s hands on either side of her repeating the small ritual Apollo 81 had always done before going on stage.

“I wanna fly, come alive, watch me shine,” As Julie sang the refrain Jordan squeezed the boys’ hands comfortingly, letting go just in time for them to poof onstage.

“I got a spark in me. Hands up if you can see and you’re apart of me. Hands up if you’re with me,” Luke joined Julie for the chorus as she made her way out from the piano to center stage. Jordan immediately made her way over to Reggie, the two ghosts rocking out together in front of Alex’s drum set. The mood in the venue had become electric, everyone’s interests piqued by their sudden appearance. “Now till eternity. Hands up if you believe. Been so long and now we’re finally free.”

Luke joined her and Reggie on Alex’s platform, giving Julie the stage as she sang the second verse. As arranged, Jordan hopped down, joining Julie for the pre-chorus.

“We know we can make it, we’re not falling down under,” they sang together, Jordan taking the lower harmonies. They’d bonded a lot after the dance, they could see it in each other’s smiles. It felt good to be performing together. “Close my eyes and feel my chest beating like thunder.”

“I wanna fly, come alive,” Jordan started the refrain with her before backing off to give her the final line. Rejoining Luke and Reggie in the back. “Watch me shine.”

The three guitarists jumped down from the platform as the chorus hit, Luke immediately taking up the mic next to Julie as he joined her in the chorus again, Reggie and Jordan singing the background vocals on either side of them and Alex in the back. At one point in the chorus, Reggie made his way over to Jordan’s mic, the two singing together briefly before he bounced over to Luke, finally returning to his own mic as they hit the bridge.

Luke and Julie took up center stage as they shared a mic, singing through the call and response bridge. The two had obvious chemistry and as Jordan watched she felt a pit forming in her stomach. She passed it off as just nerves, she was about to pick up the chorus after all, and exchanged smiles with Alex and Reggie, the two boys calming her down.

The crowd roared as they hit the chorus for the final time, Reggie and Jordan leaning into their mics as they joined the chorus.

“I got a spark in me. Hands up if you can see, and you’re a part of me. Hands up if you’re with me…” They sang through the chorus, Jordan taking up Julie’s part so that she could riff off the vocals. They’d decided the final run-through of the chorus was the perfect place to really show off Julie’s pipes.

As the song wound down, the three guitarists backed off again, leaving Julie to sing the last “Finally free” on her own.

The crowd erupted into cheers when the song ended. Jordan sung her guitar to the side as they all took a bow, the four ghosts disappearing. They reappeared at the back of the venue, sitting on the countertop of the bar and giving Julie huge thumbs-ups as she finished out their performance.

“Thank you. We’re Julie and the Phantoms,” she said into the mic, soaking up the applause before adding with a wink to her ghost band, “Tell your friends.”

The four phantoms nearly lost their minds at that, all of them whacking each other’s limbs as they yelled excitedly. They were only starting to calm down when Julie bounded over to where they were sitting behind Flynn, giving her best friend a hug before grinning at the ghosts.

“You were incredible!” Flynn gushed to her friend.

“Yeah, we were!” Reggie exclaimed and Julie rolled her eyes slightly with a grin.

Just when Jordan thought the night couldn’t get any better, a woman in a power suit started making her way over to them, gracefully dodging Dirty Candy on her way.

“She looks all business,” Alex whispered and Jordan nodded.

“Wait! Who should do the talking?” Reggie panicked before looking around at the group, all of them giving him looks that said ‘really?’ “Oh, right, Julie.” He nodded.

“You’ve got this,” Luke whispered as the woman approached, sticking out her hand in introduction.

“Hi I’m Andi Parker and I would love to-“ she began but was cut off.

“Julie,” Ray called sternly from behind and everyone’s eyes widened.

“It’s time to go.” He said and Julie gulped, dropping Andi’s hand.

Oh shit.

Part 9

___

JATP Taglist: @meangirlsx

Sunset Swerve Taglist: @oopsiedoopsie23 @angryknightstatesmantrash @onlygetaway @deni-gonzalez @advicefromnixxxx @brooke0297 

[knight-ingale]

Chapter 5, Near-Death-Experience

Heyyy y’all! Sorry, I wanted to post earlier today (and with an update/warning so y’all could see it was coming) but a lot of... stuff(?) has happened this weekend. Hope you all enjoy regardless! ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---~---~---~---~---~---~--- *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“So,” you ask, leaning into the middle console, “What happened?” Bella purses her lips for a moment. 

“Um… a lot?” She starts, eyes still locked on the road, “He said ‘hi’ to me at the beginning of class, I guess, so that was new.” You nod, “He also called me Bella instead of Isabella, but no one else has done that? Like… he even corrected Mr. Banner when he called me Isabella.” You shrug, holding your head in your hand as you lean back against your door.

“Maybe since we’ve been here for a bit, he heard from everyone else you like being called Bella?” Bella nods, though her expression was disbelieving.

“Maybe,” she concedes, “But I don’t think so?” You shrug, making a movement with your other hand to queue her onwards. “He asked me a lot of questions, I guess. He tried to make small-talk about the snow at first, but I don’t like snow. He figured it was difficult for me to live here in Forks. Said I was ‘hard to read’ for some reason.” You shrug again, though she couldn’t see it. 

“Well, he doesn’t really know you, right? Just because Mom and I can read you doesn’t mean someone new can, I suppose.” She sighs, 

“That makes sense, I guess. But… there’s something else.” You lean away from your door to sit up straight. 

“Well?” you prompt after a short silence, “What is it?” Bella’s fingers tap against the wheel anxiously. 

“Well… have you noticed his eyes? The color change, I mean.” You freeze. Edward’s eyes had changed too? You noticed Jasper’s since he sat next to you, but you hadn’t noticed his brother’s change from across the room during lunch. Bella glances at you, “What? What’s wrong?” You shuffle in your seat, leaning back against the door with your arm.

“Well… I just.. I noticed the same thing with his brother, Jasper. He sits next to me in Psych. His eyes used to be really dark. Like, really dark. Now they kind of match his hair, like a golden color. I didn’t say anything about it, but it’s kinda weird.” Bella is obviously surprised by your comment. 

You drive the short rest of the drive home in contemplative silence.

You’re able to get most of your homework done before dinner, and Bella helps you with the Algebra after dinner. Dinner, speaking of, was the usual silence you were now used to. You doodled for a while before you decided to go to bed. 

The next day, you woke up to a surprise. The overcast, green-tinted light you were used to waking up to had cleared into bright, filtered light. You got dressed before you looked out the window and walked back to your closet to get your boots. On the other side of the glass, there was a snowy and frozen wonderland. Fern-like designs of frost hugged the edges of the glass on your window, every needle was coated in crystalline ice. The driveway had become an ice-trail of possible future concussions and a trip to the ER.

You came downstairs to see Bella making a bowl of cereal. You gasped in horror when you saw her drink orange juice straight from the carton while making your own cereal when she finished her own bowl. Bella sat in her chair practically vibrating with nervous energy as she waited for you to be done with your breakfast. 

“What’s with you?” You ask, shoveling another spoonful of Cheerios into your mouth while Bella gathers her thoughts. 

“I guess I’m just, kind of excited?” You nearly choked on your cereal. Y/n Swan, the beloved sister, died by shocking news and breakfast. A little ball of dread reappeared in the pit of your stomach. 

“Excuse me,” you ask, still coughing a little bit, “But why on Earth?” You already knew the answer as soon as she nearly killed you with your own surprise and food, but you asked anyway. 

“I… Agh, I know it’s stupid!” Your sister admits sheepishly, “But… I guess to see him.” You scoffed, this time not nearly dying.

“Yup, sounds very, very stupid. You shouldn’t trust someone who lies about their eyes,” You note, raising your eyebrows at Bella. She nods her head, but you can tell her attitude hasn’t changed much. You sigh and finish off your milk before standing to rinse your bowl out in the sink. You and Bella grab your bags and prepare to leave, fearing the worst for the journey ahead. 

You guided Bella to the very front of the truck, holding onto each other as supports to make the short way to the truck. It was only when you and your sister parted to go to your respective sides of the vehicle when Bella nearly toppled. Luckily, she caught the mirror of the door on the way down to steady herself. You laughed, relieved when you both made it into the cab without injury. Bella wasn’t nearly as amused. 

Bella drove carefully through the icy streets without difficulty, but still slowly, which you were glad for. The last thing you needed was for your father to show up at the site of a crash after carving a path of destruction through town. Despite this, the little lump of dread on your stomach was growing bigger and heavier.

When you made it to school, you got out of the warm cab, you noticed Bella stop at the back of the truck. You make your way to her side curiously. Did she find something on the ground? Standing beside her, you see what she’s looking at. Thin, silver snow chains had been fixed to your tires. You realized, like Bella seemingly had, that Charlie had gotten up early and put them on the truck for the both of you. This small act stunned you. Your mother had never done anything like this to take care of you, in fact, Bella had always been the one to take safety measures and care for you. Bella leans up, tears welling up in her eyes. You lay a hand on her shoulder and try to smile through the mini-wave of emotions.

A loud noise abruptly tears through the quiet air of the parking lot. You turn your head to see behind you a large, dark blue van skidding on the icy blacktop, and it’s headed right towards you and Bella.

You knew you wouldn’t have any time to run, you wouldn’t even have time to push Bella out of the way.

 Nothing was in slow motion, but you were fast enough to manage one maybe final act. 

You turned to Bella, her brown eyes wide and looking off away from the van at the crowd, and wrapped your arms behind her. One arm reached up and held the top of her head, the other crossed from one shoulder to hold the other. You were already on the outside, Bella was between you and the corner of the truck. You knew you were going to die. The chances of being pinned between the truck and a van probably weren’t very high, but maybe you’d be enough of a barrier to at least get your sister out alive? You hoped so.

Right before you expected to be smashed by the oncoming Frisbee-ing vehicle, you were pushed. You felt your wrist, the one behind Bella’s head, hit the concrete with sharp pain. Something cold and hard was pinning your back down. You hadn’t even blinked when you realized you were on the ground next to a tan car Bella had parked next to. You barely had time to look up and see two white hands thrust forward to stop the van from hitting you, pushing into an already deep dent in the side of the body. Then, like a blur, one hand reached to hold under the van and the other pulling you away, your legs swinging and hitting the tire of the car beside you.

And then, it was over. For a moment, it was silent after the van settled and the glass popped. After that short silence, pandemonium.  Many voices started yelling at once, the most you could understand was several people yelling your names. That was when you realized there was someone else there. You looked back behind you to see none other than the bagel-hater himself, Edward Cullen, holding you against his side, you sandwiched between both him and yourself clutching Bella to you.

“Bella?” He repeats, “Are you alright?” Bella groans and tries to escape both of your grasps, but you held onto her, as did Edward.

“I’m fine,” she groans. She looks up to you and realizes who you were being held against and immediately struggles to sit up against you. You help her sit up gently with Edward’s white hand guiding her back.

“Be careful,” he warns her, “I think you hit your head.” Bella reaches a hand up to her head, placing her hands against a spot above her left ear. 

“Ow.” Bella mumbles, sounding surprised. You sat up as fully as you could and gently looked about Bella’s face, your hands holding her jaw as you searched for any more irritated spots of impact or scrapes. Thankfully, she seemed fine.

“That’s what I thought,” Edward hums, almost sounding amused? If you weren’t in the head space of just trying to make sure you and your sister were alright, you probably would have at least turned to glare at Edward, maybe even yell. Bella mumbles, still wincing as she held onto the side of her head, 

“How in the…?” She shakes her head and her voice trails off before looking back up, “How did you get over here so fast?” Edward makes an expression of what you knew to be feigned-confusion,

“I was right next to you, Bella,” he says, his voice no longer exhibiting a humorous inflection. You steady Bella as she begins to push away to sit up and Edward unwinds his arms from around your side and Bella’s and scoots as far as he can in the very limited space in between the far too-close vehicles. You turned your back to press against the side of the tan car behind you, one hand on your sister's shoulder as you both looked over to the boy beside you. The way he was looking at you and Bella was bizarrely off-putting. The way he almost looked to be sincerely confused, he truly wore the expression of authentic befuddlement, but not quite. You looked into the golden hues of his eyes and knew that couldn’t be right. His gaze was too hard, too much like he was pleading you to just stay quiet or just go with it. He wasn’t confused. He knew exactly what had happened and what Bella was asking. 

Edward shifts his gaze to you, his expression slightly harder in some way, guarded perhaps? 

You’re snapped out of your speculative train of thought by voices. Now that everything had stopped, you realized there was screaming. Different voices screaming Bella’s name, screaming your name. Funnily enough, you weren’t able to pick out anyone calling for the Cullen boy beside you in the noise.

A crowd rushes up to the vehicles, crying faces and yelling greet you as you look up to them all. 

“Stay put!” Someone instructs loudly, but you can’t see who. 

“Get Tyler out of the van!” Someone else shouted. There is a dizzying amount of movement around the vehicles as you look back to Bella as she tries to stand up. Both your hand and Edwards place themselves on opposite shoulders before she can elevate herself.

“Somebody said to stay put just now Bells,” You remind softly as she lowers back down the few centimetres.

“But it’s cooold,” she whines. Edward snickers behind you, but Bella cuts him off, “You were over there. You were by your car...” her voice trails off once again as she looks up into his eyes. Edward drops his smile and instead presses his lips into a hard and narrows his eyes, frowning ever-so slightly.

“No, I wasn’t.” 

“I saw you,” Bella insists. Over the argument you hear deeper voices, teachers, arriving to the scene. 

“Bella, I was standing with you, I pulled you out of the way.” It seemed he was trying with all his silent might to convince your sister other from the truth. Bella breaks her gaze from Edward’s and looks at you. You could practically see the vicious curiosity burning behind her brown eyes. You turn to look at Edward and realize he had been staring at you. His nearly pleading gaze making contact with your own vision causes a strange panic to stir in your chest.

“You… you couldn’t have been there.” You say, “You weren’t there even when I turned and grabbed Bella…” Edward, obviously displeased with your answer, looks between you and your sister with a guarded panic, 

“Bella, Y/n, please,” he pleads softly. For some reason, his gentle voice aggravates the panic already present in the back of our mind, though you can’t tell why it did.

“Why?” Bella almost glares at the boy across from her. Obviously, you were alone in your sudden feeling of alarm.

“Trust me,” you begs again, his forceful gaze shifting from Bella to you before returning back to your sister.

“Will you promise to explain everything to me later?” Edward lets out a sharp sigh at your sisters continued pressing,

“Fine,” he snaps.

“Fine,” Bella echoes with her own angry tone.

You look between the two teenagers with worry. The far off sirens were finally in the parking lot. You could see flashing red and blue lights reflecting off of the wet asphalt and snow and edges of the vehicles around you. Through the wailing sirens and abrupt feeling of panic, you have a feeling the rest of the day was going to be a disaster. Though, how much worse could it get from here?

Turns out, much worse.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---~---~---~---~---~---~--- *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tags: @twilight-loveer, @rushiruby

[the-princess-atta]

Changing Seasons || Attendy

Summary: Atta tells Wendy the truth and they break up :( 

@flippin--corduroy

ATTA: 

She’d been avoiding Wendy.

She did not want to avoid Wendy, but at first she’d not known what to do. There was much to organize now that Atta would resume her talent, and the Hollow was full of buzz at the reveal that there was not only a royal, but that the royal was...well...her… the list-making tinker from the Orkney Hollow. She needed space and time to deal with all of that first. This was what Atta told herself. Once things calmed, then she’d contact Wendy and explain…

But when things did calm, she realized that an explanation would come with an ending. That was the only choice. That had always been the only choice. Royals could love, of course they could love. There was nothing in the rules, really, that said they couldn’t. But they didn’t. Because it wouldn’t be best for the Hollow. 

And loving a human mundus? They certainly never did that.

And so Atta needed to stop being cruel, and sending unclear texts and making up excuses about her classes and her duties. So, finally, she asked Wendy to meet her somewhere, and they returned to Chippamunka, where they’d had their first date.

Atta’s first ever date.

She regretted coming here the moment she sat down and she stared at the menu in front of her. An awkward silence festered between both her and Wendy in those initial minutes. The words were lodged in Atta’s throat. She didn’t want to say them. She still wanted a way around all this, but she knew there wasn’t, and this-- like so many things-- was her responsibility.

She stirred a little sugar into her water and finally cleared her throat. “I ah...first of all, I just… wanted to apologize for things in recent weeks. And for scaring you on the ice.”  

WENDY

Wendy knew something had been up. Atta had been dodging plans and texts for the better part of the last few weeks. She was always busy with something in the Hollow or with her sister or with school. Honestly, Wendy felt like the needy one in all this and it wasn’t a great feeling when you were used to being the girl who was aloof and chill and noncommittal. 

What worried her more was that when Atta had next resurfaced again, she asked her to Chippamunka. It was their first date spot. The night where Wendy really got to know and understand the fairy she’d been crushing on and flirting with. It was the night of their first kiss and the night she gave her the case for the log that had begun their friendship. It was all just so heavy and Wendy wasn’t one to get into heavy. 

So she gave Atta a smile and they had a little bit of a small talk but that awkward silence came. The moment where Wendy could ask what’s up with Atta but didn’t because well, she didn’t want to make it seem like she’d made more of this relationship than what Atta had intended. Maybe she was just more attached. Maybe they were just on the wrong pages of this story. 

Wendy played with the condensation on her soda glass, fingers drawing little patterns in the beads of water, leaning back in her chair a bit and glancing between the glass and Atta.

Then Atta started and although Wendy had expected it to go this way, she still felt her heart sink lower. It wasn’t a good beginning and it sounded really formal, like she and Atta were in a meeting or something and not two friends (or two something-mores).

“It’s alright. I mean, it’s not every day you save a girl from an icy fall.” Wendy tried to joke but it landed flat. “I’m just glad you’re okay, and you know, now that I’ve seen you, there’s physical evidence to prove it.” 

She gave a shrug of one shoulder and a slight smile before breathing out, maybe she should just come to the conclusion first before Atta had time to say it, rip the bandaid off, “As for the last couple weeks, maybe I just read signals wrong and put more into this than I should have. I didn’t mean to badger you with texts or anything.”

ATTA: 

Her eyes widened. Oh no, no, no, that wasn’t what she wanted Wendy to think at all! The guilt turned into a cascading waterfall, drenching Atta underneath it. She reached forward without thinking, taking Wendy’s beautiful strong hands and squeezing one of them, as if she were much smaller. She’d always loved Wendy’s hands, since the second she saw them. They made beautiful things. 

“No! No, you didn’t-- nothing you did was wrong,” blurted Atta. “I was the confusing one. I...didn’t mean to be. Everything I said was true. Well--” 

Atta had practiced this speech. She had turned this whole conversation into a task to be checked off, or perhaps similar to a duty to perform. However, now that she was sitting right here, she couldn’t find her way to the words. Everything felt just...wrong.

She drew her hand back and her eyes got a bit shiny. She glanced away quickly, breathed in softly, and then out again. 

If she were to be honest, then she’d have to confess to Wendy now that she had lied from the start. Wendy would probably be angry with her, as she should be. Maybe that would be for the best. It would be a sudden, painful break. 

“No, it wasn’t. It--” she stumbled, took another breath and then finally looked back at Wendy again. “I haven’t been honest from the start, actually. You see, I...I’m not a tinker, like I told you or everyone else. In my old Hollow, before it was destroyed, I…” 

It was still hard to say it. Every single time, she wanted to break down and cry as if she was confessing to murdering her own Hollow. (For some reason these two things felt the same.)

“I am what’s called a royal-talent. A princess. I...was going to become queen when our King stepped down. But then...the oil spill and…” she trailed off and looked down, fiddling with a braided bracelet on her wrist. 

WENDY

The redhead’s brows furrowed as Atta started backtracking and trying to explain herself into a circle. Atta took her hands and she felt warm again, like awkwardness had melted away to a warm feeling and she wasn’t here getting broken up with. Because that’s what was happening right? That’s what this was leading up to. Atta’s hands were small and soft, but strong. Her thumbs ran along the backs of them as they held hands for a moment before Atta pulled back.

And when Atta pulled back and hesitated, it was that she’d lied about something. Was she seeing someone else? Wendy had heard polyamory was kind of a thing in fairy culture was that it? She bit her lip, wondering what she’d lied about. She thought they’d told each other everything. That’s what this was. It was honest, right? They could just be themselves.

Well, apparently Atta hadn’t necessarily been herself with how this conversation had turned.

As Wendy let Atta talk her mind raced as to what she could’ve found so terrible as to hide from Wendy. The redhead never thought anything Atta had ever been was bad. Atta could’ve honestly done no wrong in the woodworkers eyes, but then again, maybe she’d been seeing all this with rose colored glasses. Blinded by her infatuation or something like that. 

Her heart hammered in her chest when Atta confessed she was lying from the very beginning. She just wanted to know. 

And then it came out. A royal talent. She was supposed to become queen. She was… a princess? Wendy had literally been dating a fairy princess? 

She was silent a moment as her eyes widened, trying to process this new information before a small grin appeared on her face, “So… I’ve been kissing a princess this whole time?” She snorted slightly, “Atta… I’m not gonna judge you because you’re a fairy princess or something. I mean yeah that’s like a big part of your life but that doesn’t change things for me.” 

And once that came out of her mouth her smile faded because it finally dawned on her, her voice grew quiet and a bit meek. “But… it does for you, doesn’t it?” It wasn’t really a question. “I… well, I mean I don’t want to be like offensive to fairy culture if this is wrong but are you about to tell me that you need to marry a fairy prince?” She looked down at the table a bit, drawing little doodles with her finger tips on the table top.

This was like getting the shit end of the stick in a romantic comedy wasn’t it? When a royal hides their identity and you find out you’ve been dating them all along. If Wendy were the character in that movie, she’d say she could learn. They’d stand up to the king or queen and say, this is the person I’m going to marry. But this wasn’t a movie and Wendy wasn’t ready for marriage, hell she didn’t even know if they’d been dating. And try as she might… Wendy would never be a fairy.

ATTA: 

Atta was once again a coward. She sat there and let Wendy stumble her way through the news. She watched, like watching a dam collapse in on itself, as Wendy realized what Atta was really saying. It was easier that way, wasn’t it? She didn’t want to have to explain that she could not kiss Wendy anymore. That they would not have any more coffee dates on campus, nor go ice skating on the lake. 

In fact, Atta did not know what her life was going to look like in the coming moons. She was still discussing her training with Clarion, considering she had come so far in her old Hollow before its destruction. She and Clarion were in completely new territory, unsure how long it would take for Atta to make a proper connection with the pixie tree, to absorb the amount of memories she would need to. Perhaps they would flood in. Or perhaps it would be a mere trickle, and she’d spend the next twenty years starting her training all over. 

Either way… she knew what the duties would be. There was no place for Wendy there. 

Her heart sank. The tears in her eyes shined, making her blue eyes even bluer. But she was a royal-talent and she had to start acting like it again. And in this respect at least, it was easy. It was much, much too easy to hold all those tears back. 

But when she took a breath, it was a heavy breath, and she felt exhausted already like she’d been flying for days without rest. 

She smiled very sadly. “No, I don’t...have to marry a fairy prince. We don’t have those. In fact, the way our Hollows work...there is only one royal-talent at a time. Two, I suppose, if there is an apprentice. But when it’s my time to protect the Hollow and become Queen, Queen Clarion will lose her connection with the tree. She will step down and live the rest of her days out peacefully, and I will rule for as long as it takes for another royal-talent to be born. So you see, I… I won’t… it isn’t appropriate for me to see anyone.” 

Before Wendy, Atta had not even given it much thought at all, for she had wanted to do her best, and she had more than enough love for her Hollow and her family. 

“Which is why I’m so grateful I was able to experience a little bit of that with you. I...know it was unfair of me, and selfish, but I really didn’t intend...I didn’t think I would make a new connection with the Enchantra’s tree because it wasn’t mine, I really didn’t. When it happened, I was shocked and scared and...I didn’t know what to do. I handled it poorly, and I’m so sorry if I’ve hurt you because of that.” 

WENDY

The minute Atta’s eyes shone those tears, Wendy wanted to reach across the table and wipe them from her eyes. She wanted to do anything. Honestly, just anything, other than have this conversation and be told that they were too different. That they came from different cultures and had different responsibilities. Because in the last few months, Wendy had only known that they had become more and more the same. They shared the same interests. Laughed at the same things. Wendy’s smile reflected Atta’s. And even now, Wendy’s eyes and heart fought hard not to join Atta in the hopelessness and just glisten with tears. 

“Queen Atta.” Wendy said simply with a sad sort of smile, “Fits.” She said simply, her fingers playing with her napkin as her eyes broke from the other girl’s. “You always sort of were one to me you know. A fairy princess, basically. You just… It was hard to not see that there was something inherently special about you.”

Wendy glanced up at Atta again, this time her eyes definitely betrayed her, “I mean this is all like a lot and from what I’m understanding you couldn’t have known, not after what had happened so I don’t--Atta just please don’t think I’m mad at you for this.” She bit down on her lip trying to figure out her words, “Did I think the whole waiting game of it all was kind of you know, handled not so great the last couple weeks? Well, yeah. But, I’m not mad. I guess I just sort of know where I stand with you which is I guess what I wanted in the first place.” That was a lie if she dug deep enough, what she wanted in the first place was Atta.

“I wish I knew what to say, you know?” She gave a slight laugh, looking up at the ceiling as if that would somehow give her an answer and stop her eyes from watering. “I just never really expected circumstance to be the reason we ended.” The redhead ran her fingers along the table, leaning forward a bit and adjusting herself in her seat, she took in a breath trying to focus on something other than the clenching feeling in her chest and the emotions that washed over her, “Um, do you still think we can hang out or are you going to be kind of in the Hollow more?”

ATTA: 

Atta hadn’t expected this either. Her time with Wendy had really been a faerytale, to use the language of the humans. It was an escape from her life, from her grief, from her sadness, and from herself. She’d learned so much. She’d become so much. And it was all thanks to Wendy, really-- she owed her so much. Without Wendy, Atta wasn’t sure if Swynlake would have felt close to something like...home. 

But what could have been a terrifying, strange place, full of new challenges, had transformed into an adventure. Because she had Wendy there to help her. 

The tears pricked her eyes again, but she knew they were not the type of tears that would fall. The weight in her chest was too heavy for something like tears. It was the type of weight that carved out a huge canyon between the two of them, and that boundary was something that Atta knew she shouldn’t cross. She wanted to. But--Atta could play out what that relationship would look like and she knew it was a ship beached from the beginning. After all, she wouldn’t have time to spend much time out of the Hollow. Atta would stop aging quite soon. Wendy wouldn’t. Wendy couldn’t live in the Hollow, even if, like Atta had said so many times, she would make an excellent tinker…

And even if she could remove some of those obstacles, Atta would never be able to share the most important things with Wendy. The traditions, the stories, the day-to-day struggles… 

That wasn’t a relationship. Wendy deserved more than that.

All Atta could offer was friendship instead. And so she smiled and nodded. “I will be in the Hollow a lot more but-- I mean, I talked to Queen Clarion and she actually thinks it’s a good idea I continue on in my Pride U studies. So we can definitely be friends. I--I would love to be friends, if that isn’t asking too much,” she finished quietly. “I understand though if...you don’t want to.” 

WENDY

Well that was good right? Atta was going to keep up her Pride U stuff so they could still hang out. That was totally fine. They could hang out and not like cuddle or kiss or make out or flirt or you know, act coupley right? That was totally doable. Sure. Lesbians always were better at remaining friends with their ex’s right? If Atta was even an ex. She kind of felt like an ex but they had never been dating officially.

Wendy gave a slight smile at that, “I think we can be friends, Atta.” And that was the truth. She thought they could. She didn’t know for sure that it would work but she thought, sure, why not, they could do it. They had common interests and it would be totally fine.

They’d had a really good run. She might’ve really fallen for the fairy if they’d continued so its probably better off that they didn’t. She could just go back to flirting with women in Pixie’s and hooking up without thinking about Atta and faltering. She was uninhibited now. She knew where they stood, she should be happy right?

Then why did this feel like she almost knocked herself out with a low hanging tree limb she hadn’t seen before? (Yeah that had happened more than once being out in the forest at her height). Whatever, it would have never worked and now it won’t. Good to know.

ATTA: 

Atta smiled back, but it didn’t really reach her eyes. Though Wendy was taking everything gracefully, all Atta could feel was… sad. 

In that moment, staring at Wendy, it was like looking at a life she could never have. That was her punishment. If she had been honest from the very first day she stepped into the Enchantra Hollow, she would never have pursued Wendy in the first place. She would have resumed her training. If she and Wendy met, she would have introduced herself as Princess of the Hollow, and remained at a distance always. There would have never been dates to Chippamunka, kisses in dusty workshoppes that smell like the forest, or laughter on ice skating rinks. 

And there would never have been a need for good-bye. 

But then… if Atta played all that out, she supposed the two of them might not have even become friends. Just...acquaintances. Perhaps business partners, considering Oaken’s deal with Queen Clarion. And that alternative was even more sad, even if it would have spared Atta’s heart and Wendy’s time. Everything happened for a reason; wasn’t that what fairies believed? And didn’t fairies also know that nothing was permanent? Friends came for a season and were gone the next, but that didn’t make the time any less special. 

Atta just wished things were different. One day, she supposed, that feeling would fade like the colour on spring leaves. 

“Thank you Wendy. For everything. I… am so glad we met, really, truly. I’m sure we’ll be friends for a long time.”

[ashtheshortstack]

make them learn - ch 1

Rating: T Ship: Adrinette (sorta)  Chapter 1/3: broken frame 

Tags: Princess Justice AU, Akumatized Marinette, Bullying, One-Sided Reveal, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

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Next Chapter

“You’re either with me, or you’re against me.” 

Lila’s words were clear and harsh, but Marinette battled akumas on a daily basis. It wasn’t something she couldn’t handle. She feared some things, but Lila Rossi definitely wasn’t one of them. Did the lying brat piss her off? Oh, big time. At first, it was jealousy revolving around Adrien, however, the blond seemed to figure out Lila’s lies all on his own. He didn’t need the constant proof. So, Marinette was comfortable that Adrien would never date someone like that. He wasn’t the type. 

“From now on, you and I are at war. You will lose all your friends and be all alone. And Adrien will soon be mine.” 

Marinette had to give her credit. The brat tried her best, that was for sure. Lila had successfully gotten her expelled, but suddenly just recanted all of her statements the next day and confirmed she made it all up. Blaming it on some stupid disease that didn’t exist, but whatever. It worked. She was thankful for that. Even though Lila’s change of heart clearly had something behind it, Marinette decided to not fret on it too much. It was clear the brat was still out to get her, but Marinette knew that taking the high road was obviously the best option. Adrien was right, there was no need to feed the troll. 

No way could she have predicted that Lila had something more sinister up her sleeve. Of course, she hadn’t assumed that the incident was the last she’d hear from Lila, but Marinette didn’t realize there could be something much, much worse. 

It had been a typical day for Marinette. There had been an akuma attack the previous evening, so she was a bit sleepy, but nothing she’d never pushed through before. She was Ladybug for a reason. She wouldn’t let a little lack of sleep ruin her day. Besides, Marinette looked forward to school. Seeing Adrien every day always uplifted her mood. He was such a kind soul, often lighting up the room more than she was sure he realized. Marinette knew he didn’t have a great homelife with his mother disappearing, assumed dead, and his father being an uptight, strict, recluse. It amazed her that he could be so positive every day. That he could be such a good person. Knowing what he went through just made her admire him even more. 

Despite how she tried to hide her fondness for him, it was difficult. Luckily, Adrien was the oblivious type and had no idea what feelings Marinette harbored for him. And she planned to keep it that way. No matter how much she wanted to be with him, she knew that Adrien loved another girl. She assumed that it was Kagami. They had gotten awfully close lately. And it hurt even more because she and Kagami had become friends. So, it wasn’t like she could hate her or be angry at her for liking the same boy as her. Even though Marinette liked him first , she digressed. Kagami would be good for him. They had so much in common… so it was okay. No matter how painful it was. No matter how much it made Marinette’s chest tighten with an ache. No matter how she desperately hoped that Adrien would see her the way she saw him… 

Taking her usual spot on the bench, Marinette sat with her knees pulled up to her chest as she doodled a few sketches into her sketchbook. However when Adrien arrived in the courtyard and made a bee-line for Nino, Marinette couldn’t help but follow him with her eyes. She could feel a soft small cross her lips when Nino swung an arm over the blond’s shoulder with Adrien grinning in return. It was wonderful to see him happy. She was glad he had a friend like Nino. 

“Hey, girl,” a familiar voice chimed. 

Startling at Alya’s sudden appearance, Marinette gave a tiny yelp. “Oh, hi.” 

“You had that dopey look on your face again. You could try to be a little less obvious, you know,” her best friend teased. 

Marinette laughed and tugged at a pigtail, “Sorry, I don’t mean to,” she glanced back to Adrien with her smile returning and shrugged. “Besides, he never notices anyway.” 

Scoffing, Alya shook her head. “Adrien does notice you. You know that, right?” 

“Well, yeah. But in a friend kind of way. He doesn’t see me the way… well I see him,” there was a sadness in her tone that she didn’t like. 

Marinette didn’t want to be disappointed that Adrien liked someone else. He was human. He was allowed to have his own crushes, right? But… she was also allowed to be human as well. And be sad she’d have to let him go. Maybe it was for the best? She had to focus on defeating Hawkmoth before she could even think about pursuing anything romantic. The world she lived in was dangerous, and she wouldn’t dare get Adrien dragged into it. If he got hurt… well, she wouldn’t know what she’d do. 

Alya bumping her gently. “You sound like you’re giving up.” 

“Not giving up,” she said with a shake of her head, “just respecting his choices. He’s such an amazing person, and I don’t want to get in the way of his happiness.” 

“Oh, Marinette, he’ll see it someday…” Alya fell silent as Marinette gave a non committal hum in response. “In the meantime, are you gonna take all those pictures of him down in your room?” she asked.

“No way, he’s easy on the eyes.” 

The two shared a laugh at that. Marinette returned to her drawing as Alya watched over her shoulder. Eventually, Alya flagged down her boyfriend. Nino, with Adrien in tow, came over to join the girls. Marinette was able to keep her cool when Adrien took a seat between her and Alya and watched her sketch. 

“That looks great, Marinette. Have you thought about entering my father’s next contest?” 

With a giggle, Marinette did her best to stop her heart from pounding. Stay cool, she reminded herself. “U-Uh, maybe. When is it?” 

Adrien smiled. “It’s in a few weeks, I think. I can check with Nathalie and get back with you?” 

“Yeah, sure,” she replied quickly. 

There was a beat before the blond spoke again. “You really are talented. I wish I could draw like you and Nathaniel.” 

“I’m sure you can draw just fine. Someone as amazing as you? I’m sure you're great at anything,” she blabbered out. 

He laughed at that. “Well, thanks. May I?” he asked, bobbing his head towards her sketchpad and holding his hand out for her pencil. 

“O-Of course,” she sputtered and instantly handed him her pencil and book. 

Marinette couldn’t help but watch him as he doodled in her sketchbook. His tongue poked out between his lips, wiggling slightly as he focused on his art. She noticed his brows pinch as her eyes wandered along his face down to his hands. Hands she’d held so many times and wished she could again and again. Granted, it was usually when Adrien was tugging her along to escape an akuma or that time he pulled her in to dance. 

Sucking in a breath, she looked away as she felt her face warm. Marinette silently prayed that he hadn’t noticed the vibrant flush that kissed her cheeks. When he finished, he held up the completed product. “Ta-da! What do you think?” 

In the middle of the page was a poorly drawn cat with a large body, stick legs, and a thick tail. There were dots for eyes and a squiggly cat mouth. Marinette couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of it, and Adrien quickly joined her. 

“Maybe, I need more practice. You should teach me sometime.” 

Marinette’s heart fluttered at the statement. “Yeah, maybe sometime. You may need quite a few lessons though,” she teased. 

Adrien smirked at her. “You gotta be kitten me, Marinette, I thought I was pretty good.” 

She couldn’t help but laugh at the horrible pun. There was a dull sense of familiarity that she shoved into the back of her mind. It was common to make puns. No need to overthink it. 

The bell chimed, echoing through the courtyard. Her friends all stood, ready to head to class. Adrien returned her sketchbook, smiling at her. “You coming?” 

“You guys go ahead, I need to pack up my things.” 

The blond tilted his head. “Need help?” 

“No, no. I got it,” she assured him with a smile. 

Adrien didn’t seem convinced, giving her a once over with a concerned pinch in his brows. But after a moment, gave a slight shrug and started up the stairs. 

Letting out a loud sigh, Marinette took a moment to gather her wits. She was proud she was slowly able to interact with Adrien despite how nervous she still felt around him. Her heart always pounded while her palms felt clammy. Wiping her hands on her pants, she corrected herself. Marinette glanced down at her sketchpad, glancing over the drawing. Adrien signed his name at the bottom with a smiley face next to it. She smiled, hugging it to her chest. Marinette would always cherish any moment she had with him. 

Standing, she gathered her things and headed up the stairs. Class went as usual. Lila was absent for the day, making Marinette relax a little knowing she wouldn’t have the brunette glaring at the back of her head for the day. 

 She took her notes, occasionally glanced down at Adrien (no one could blame her, really, he was so easy on the eyes), and drew tiny doodles on the corner of her paper. Marinette surprised herself with a little cat drawing that replicated the blond’s sketch from before. There was so much to learn about Adrien still. Did he really like cats? Maybe, he was a Chat Noir fan? 

Marinette was yanked from her musings when an akuma burst into the door of the classroom. Her classmates screamed and took cover beneath their desks as Madam Bustier shouted for the akuma to be gone. But the akuma locked eyes with her before smirking wickedly. 

“Ah, there you are Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I was hoping I’d find you here. I’m Crush Detector, and I’m here to expose your crush.” 

Her heart pounded with panic. “W-What?” 

Crush Detector gave a mused hum before prancing over to Adrien who stood at his desk with a gritted frown. “Don’t you want to know the truth , Adrien? We know how you feel about people who lie. I’m here to be honest… because we’re friends, aren’t we? ” 

Marinette watched as his expression changed. His eyes hardened. “Lila!” he hissed. 

Gaping, she looked at the akuma. “Lila?” Again!? How many times could this girl be akumatized intentionally? Was she working with Hawkmoth at this point? 

With a grin, Crush Detector turned her attention to the projector holding up a camera that was clearly the inflicted object. “Why don’t we all see the truth, hm?” 

Marinette watched in horror as the pictures of Adrien on the walls of her room flashed onto the screen, then Adrien’s schedule in detail, her desktop screen, then her. There was literal footage of her pieced together from before school. The entire conversation she and Alya had before class was played back in front of her, as well as her hugging the sketchpad after he’d doodled in it. 

Tears pricked her eyes, her heart dropping into her stomach. Her throat felt tight as her hands began to shake. She was utterly humiliated. It wasn’t a secret to her classmates how she felt about Adrien, but for him to see…

Kim laughed aloud. “You have his whole schedule on hand?” 

“I knew you liked him, but I didn’t realize you were a stalker, Dupain-Cheng,” Chloe mused. 

Her bottom lip wobbled as more and more images of her cooing over the blond were shoved into her face. As booked towards the door, vaguely hearing Alya and Adrien call after her. 

Crush Detector blocked her exit. “Oh, running away from your feelings again , Marinette?” 

She saw red. Marinette shoved Lila’s akumatized form out of the way. She booked it to the bathroom. Knowing that the akuma would be after her any moment, she locked the door, knowing it’d at least delay the process of Lila entering. 

Taking deep breaths, Marinette held her head as she slid down the door. Sobs wracked her body as she buried her face into her knees. 

“Marinette…” Tikki’s voice murmured as she floated out of the purse. “I’m so sorry…” 

With a sniffle, she wiped her face. “We have to catch an akuma.” 

“Marinette, are you okay?” 

Her body felt numb. An emptiness swirled within her. There wasn’t time to care. Lila had done this to purposely humiliate her. And she wouldn’t let that witch get away with it. Marinette called on her transformation. 

She left the bathroom, seeing Adrien searching around the courtyard. He hadn’t noticed her, thankfully. 

Crush Detector laughed spitefully. “Oh, c’mon, Adrien! We know you don’t like her! Don’t pity her!” 

The glare Adrien shot her was bone chilling. “This was the last straw, Lila. I told you to leave Marinette alone.” 

“Oh, but… I’m not Lila anymore, am I?” she snickered as she sat on the railing. 

Ladybug’s fist clenched. Rage flowed through her veins. A heat took over her she’d never felt before. It boiled at her back, shooting up her spine. Her fingers trembled with anger, her teeth grit harshly together. 

“Shut up!” she screeched before wrapping the akuma in her yo-yo. Ladybug yanked her victim harshly, forcing Crush Detector off the high railing and down onto the concrete of the courtyard. The akuma shouted in pain as she met the ground forcefully. “That’s enough! That’s enough! ” 

Adrien was stunned by Ladybug’s appearance, jaw hung open. She didn’t blame him. Marinette had never felt so much pain… hurt… anger… bubble through her. She’d never hurt an akumatized person intentionally. But Lila deserved it. She deserved so much worse!  

Ladybug tightened her yo-yo. “Do you just love to hurt others!? Does it make you happy? What do you think will happen now, huh!? Do you really think Adrien will love you after this!?” 

“Adrien will be mine,” Lila hissed. 

She tightened the string. The akuma gasped for air. 

Adrien took action. He ran over, snatching the inflicted camera and smashing it on the ground. The akuma flew out, but Marinette didn’t budge. When she saw Lila deakumatize… when she saw her at her mercy… she kept her wound in the yo-yo. 

“You have so much hate in your heart. You’re a horrible person! You just love to humiliate others, and for what? It’s not going to make anyone like you. It won’t make Adrien like you. You’re just a coward! Too afraid to be yourself, so you lie to everyone and bring everyone else down to bring yourself up!” 

“Ladybug!”

She gasped, glancing over at Adrien. His face was red. Had he been shouting at her the whole time? 

Quickly, she released Lila and snatched the akuma from the air. She waved off the butterfly silently. Adrien was staring at her with an emotion she couldn’t read. Lila was glaring at her with more fury than ever before. Swallowing, Ladybug gave Adrien a nod before whipping her yo-yo and fleeing quickly. 

                                                           o~o~o~o

Sobs wracked her body. Marinette hadn’t even made it to her bed. She wallowered on the floor, her face in her hands. Hot tears spilled onto her hands. Breathing was difficult through her cries, unable to catch necessary air. She vaguely felt Tikki’s pats of comfort on her head. 

“Marinette, you have to calm down… Hawkmoth will--” 

“I know , Tikki… I know. I-I need to--” she glanced down at her phone. There were many, many missed calls from both Alya and Adrien. Even one from Nino… which may have just been Alya calling from his phone. She couldn’t be sure. Her throat felt tight as she scrolled through her messages. 

There were texts from Lila. How’d she even gotten her number!? Who would’ve given it to her? 

  Hope you learned your lesson about crossing me. He’ll never love you. 

  Marinette didn’t dare open any more of them. She felt sick. Nauseated from the pain and anguish that stirred within her. There were texts from Adrien and Alya, both begging her to call them. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to speak to anyone. 

She trembled as she reached up to take her earrings from her lobes. Tikki gasped, looking at her chosen with worry. Marinette held the miraculous out in her palm, gazing at her kwami expectantly. “I need you to take these and find Chat Noir.” 

“Marinette, no--” 

“Tikki, please. I can’t let Hawkmoth get my miraculous. This is the only way to keep the earrings safe.” 

Tikki’s gaze was pleading. “B-But Marinette, you could lead him right to Master Fu.” 

Shaking her head, she took a breath. “I can tell you… the only person I’ll be after is Lila. She--She’s the reason for all of this. This is entirely her fault. A-And if I get akumatized and whatever I do… she deserves it.”

“Marinette, don’t talk like that.” 

“Go to Chat Noir.” 

It was a command. And Tikki knew it. The heartbroken expression on the kwami’s face was answer enough. She floated over, giving Marinette a kiss on the head. Watching her kwami phase through the window, she knew she’d done the right thing. She knew that the best option would be for Tikki to go to Chat. Chat had used the Ladybug miraculous before. If anyone could save her, it was her crime-fighting partner. 

When the black butterfly floated into her room, she wasn’t surprised to see it. The utter feeling of hopelessness that overwhelmed her was like fodder to Hawkmoth. It absorbed into her purse, and a voice echoed in her mind. 

“Princess Justice… your feelings have been exposed to the boy you love against your will…” 

[drangues]

I hope you’re right, but the future remains to be seen. On the upside, I’m finally gonna be able to see my therapist again! Which is good because I can finally report back on how my meds are doing. Also nooo I’m sorry your teacher is a Fool, that sucks. They clearly don’t know Good Kitty Doodles when they see them. Anyways, YEAH their dynamic is one of my favorites, they’re like. The definition of the vitriolic best buds trope, I feel like? (Nyanon, 1/7)

And it is a bit annoying when people reduce them to Kunikida hating Dazai and Dazai mocking Kunikida, because like you said, that’s part of it!!! But they also trust each other a lot, Dazai genuinely believes that Kunikida is a good man and I do think he tries to base a lot of his morals off of Kunikida’s (and Oda and Atsushi and Fukuzawa, but this isn’t about them), and I think that, while he finds Dazai’s antics annoying, Kunikida very clearly trusts and cares about him? (Nyanon, 2/7)

Sure he thinks he could take things more seriously, but he trusts in his ability to get the job done when it needs to happen, and he even plays into his antics a few times! That fic does sound like them though, Dazai being Extra and Kunikida being exasperated because “you’re dying and this isn’t a manga (unless we break the fourth wall)??? Please focus on staying alive so you can actually confess to the brat.” I love the two of them so much. (Nyanon, 3/7)

Moving on a bit, I seem to have bad luck with friends??? If they don’t randomly stop talking to me if they’re online friends (not for mean reasons, contact just tapers off), then I’ve has like. Physically abusive friends and friends who lied to me and took advantage of how gullible I was as a kid? I’d hope I get a friend like that but at this rate I’ve accepted my lot as a hermit. I am an introvert though, so I guess it’s fair. Back to BSD, though! (Nyanon, 4/7)

I BET OLD ATSUSHI GETS IT FROM FUKUZAWA, he’s been taught his Ways. And Atsushi is probably the one giving people hugs half the time, he’s touch starved and very nice to hold and be held by, again, like a cat- Speaking of, at least it’s a nice rent free thought and not something Super Weird like the theme song of a kids show (yes I hate having songs stuck in my head). But yeah, poor thing needs hugs, preferably from the rest of the ADA when he’s feeling inadequate. (Nyanon, 5/7)

I want them to tell him how much he means to them and shower him with love and affection. And listen, Atsushi is a Literal catboy but he isn’t anywhere near as chaotic as Dazai is, he isn’t a sadist, he isn’t a sugar addict, he isn’t,, The Tanizaki Family (TM), as far as Kunikida is concerned it’s a dream come true. The fact that he actually does try his best and take on extra work when Kunikida is overwhelmed is just a bonus. (Nyanon, 6/7)

Also Atsushi is an indulgent big brother who says fuck gender norms, he adores Kyouka to bits and if she wants him to model some fashion that she likes then he isn’t gonna say no. Anyways, moving on to another Scenario Concept: I’m reading a chat fic right now, so how do you think that’d go with BSD? I know they aren’t action stories but they’re always great if you find a good one,,, I feel like there’d be pictures of Atsushi as a tiger are being thrown around at lightspeed. (Nyanon, 7/7)

WOOO HELL YEAH IM GLAD YOU CAN GET BACK TO YOUR THERAPIST!! make sure to take not of EVERYTHING all right?? dont reduce to “eh it’s fine” S M H

and yes!!! i also hate how theyre reduced like that, though we also got the anime adaption to blame here because they really love to Crank That Part Of The Dynamic up, so the fans are not TOO much to blame. Plus as you said, they trust each other a lot clearly. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MAN FUCK ALL YOUR FRIENDS YOUVE HAD SO FAR S M H, i hope the abusive ones Rot In Hell they did not deserve to do that to you i swear. i understand if this makes you be more closed off but please dont let that hinder you from experiencing the true beauty of people that actually care!!! relationships/friendships take time to build so just have patience im sure youll get someone soon!! i believe in you!!

man you have songs stuck in your head?? mood, i feel that, it’s pretty hard for me to have Something stuck in my head for too long because of how many different thoughts my brain spits out constantly, it’s like several tabs open with many of them playing different sounds it’s all a M E S S but i like it uwu

atsushi is the Least weird in the ADA and kunikida appreciates him, im sure kunikida is the type to say something caring in a threatening voice and then play it off as something Logical like “make sure to not overwork yourself- good health is important for good work ethics”

i’m sure atsushi would feel weird being shoved feminine stuff in his face at first, but because he cant say and loves kyouka to bits he would sit through it and start actually liking it because really, why Not? Whats Wrong Exactly? nothing. thats the point.

I WANT A CHATFIC OF THE ADA LIKE FROM WHEN ATSUSHI FIRST GETS HIS PHONE AND ALL THE CHATFICS THERE MAN (though except for all those intense ass arcs man i like fics where i ignore the canon arcs that happened because F U C K that personally, bsd has VERY emotionally draining arcs imo and mainly the reason i stuck around is cause of the characters OSGDHJSK)

[secretsofthedarkestkind-arch]

Part three of the episode 1 ramble. Triggers are marked from what I know. We’re about half way through the episode. 

Part One

Part Two

word count: 1,820

@storieswrittcn​

A/N: I know in the history class scene Stefan saves Elena from Will ‘Jackass’ Tanner but for the purpose of where this verse is going and how Lee’s character is it needed to be Lee. 

Lee was laid back against the headboard of her bed, school books spread out in front of her with a pen between her teeth. She had changed out of her clothes once they’d gotten home from the Grill. She was lounging in a pair black sweatpants, a black tank top putting her tiger half sleeve tattoo on display, and socks. Her hair up in as much of a bun as she could get it. The vampire flipped through a few pages of a textbook that was in her lap. She had not missed high school. Not even a little bit. Lee glanced at her cell phone that laid silent beside her; she wasn’t sure if Katherine’s radio silence was a good or bad omen. 

“You promised.” Lee looked up as her hearing picked up Zach’s not so happy voice. She took the book off her lap, tossed the pen, down and made her way toward Stefan’s room. Curiosity gets the better of her. The brunette leaned in his doorway, eyes landing on the newspaper in their distant nephew’s hand. He didn’t know she was there but Stefan did. 

Stefan took the paper from his hands, reading over it quickly. “This was an animal attack,” Stefan shakes his head looking back at Zach. 

“Don’t give me that. I know the game.” Zach stands his ground, defensive. “You tear them up enough, they always suspect an animal attack.” He’s not wrong. “You said she had it under control.” Stefan’s eyes meet her’s briefly over the man’s shoulder. Lee pushed off the door-frame and entered the room more, tongue brushing over her bottom teeth. Stupid, stupid human. “You said, you drink animal blood.”

“He does.” Lee comments, leaning in toward Zach, the words ghosting over his ear. He only jumps slightly but his heart pounds roughly against his ribs. Good. She doesn’t stop, coming to stand beside Stefan.

“And she does,” Stefan defends her. She had more control than one would ever suspect, it something done out of necessity. Lee couldn’t make a damn mess on the run or leave a trail. Neither bring up the fact it could be Damon. That’d just cause more panic from the man.

“If it’d been me, there wouldn’t have been a body to find. I can promise you that.” She dares their nephew to argue with her. Zach swallows roughly, looking away from her to Stefan--the safer of the two in his mind. Stefan turns away from him, doing what he had been doing before Zach charged into his room.

“Please, Uncle Stefan. Mystic Falls is a different place now.” He nearly begs, it’s pathetic to her. Stefan glances at Lee before turning his head to look at Zach once more, “It’s been quiet for years, but there are people who still remember.” Those words sound like a threat to Lee, but she knows what he’s talking about. Those people are the reason Lee was worried about Damon leaving the trail of bodies. But what does Zach know about all this? She’s going to have to do some digging later. “And you being here, both of you, it’s just going to stir things up.”

Lee gives Stefan a meaningful look that screams I told you so. Stefan shakes his head, at both of them. “It’s not my intention.”

Most of the evil in this world is done by people with good intentions, is the first thing to come to Lee’s mind. The second, The road to hell is paved with good intentions. She doesn’t voice either of these quotes.

“Then what is?” Zach asks. “Why did you come back? After all this time, why now?” How is Stefan going to explain this one? Oh I just want to get to know the girl who looks identical to the vampire psychopath I fell in love with in 1864. Lee snickers but swallows it down as much as she can. That’d go over well.

“I don’t have to explain myself.” Stefan contends. 

Zach glances at Lee, “Then what about you?”

“I’m here because Stefan asked me to be.” Lee shrugs. That’s all their nephew is getting out of her. Then again that’s not even the true reason she’s here. 

Zach sighs and looks between the two, “I know you can’t change what you are. But neither of you belong here anymore.” That Lee can agree on. This isn’t her home, isn’t where her heart lies. She has avoided Mystic Falls as much as she could for the last century and a half. She’d been given the world and hadn’t looked back. 

Stefan actually looked hurt by the man’s words, “Then where do I belong?” For a nanosecond, Lee remembers Stefan hadn’t had the guidance she had when she’d woken up in transition...hadn’t had a partner to go through their new extended life with who already had so much experience. For an instant, Lee feels like a child again and feels for her lost older brother. But then it’s over. Lee remembers every cruel word or look, every time he brushed her aside or pretended she didn’t exist. Being alone had been part of the punishment for his treatment of her, a promise her lover had made good on.

“I can’t tell you what to do. But coming back here, was a mistake.” Zach turns to leave, tossing the paper down on the small ottoman of Stefan’s chair. 

“Stef…” Lee starts, willing to play the feeling sister.

“Don’t. Just don’t, okay?” Stefan doesn’t look at her, instead looking where Zach had just been.

“Okay,” She says softly, she squeezes his shoulder before following Zach’s lead and leaving him alone. If only she’d stayed or hidden in the shadows instead of going to her room, she’d have seen Stefan go to the cabinet that held all his old journals to pull the one from 1864 out. She would have seen him open it to a picture of Katherine.

-----

Text [To My Heart:] What do you know about Zach’s connections to the counsel? He just made a veiled threat that Stefan didn’t catch.

----- 

Lee’s pen moved across the notebook paper in front of her, she wasn’t usually one to doodle. But she figured a normal none attention seeking teenager shouldn’t be able to sketch/draw as well as she could. So here she was, ignoring the infuriating man who was her history teacher as she doodled. The Battle of Willow Creek, easy enough.

She could pass this class with her eyes closed. Her eyes did snap up as Mr.Tanner made a comment that got under skin. “Cute becomes dumb in an instant, Ms.Bennett.” She could see the embarrassment on Bonnie’s face. Lee felt her eyes narrow, a snarl tug at the corner of her lips. Wouldn’t be making comments like that if you didn’t have your tongue or if I ripped your throat out, would you Mr.Tanner?

“Mr.Donovan. Would you like to take this opportunity to overcome your embedded jock stereotype?” He gibed. What was this guy’s problem? Maybe Stefan would put aside his saintly act and help her hide the body.

“It’s okay, Mr.Tanner, I’m cool with it.” Matt didn’t even let the man’s words phase him. Good for him. A few students chuckled and a forced hmph left the teachers lips.

“Hmm. Elena?” Lee waited for it. What gibe would he send the brunette’s way. She glanced over at her brother. “Surely you can enlighten us about one of the town’s most significant historical events?” Lee bit the inside of her lower lip. His tone was demeaning, like he knew she would fail.

She tried to think of the answer, the vampire could see the wheels turning. Elena shook her head, “I’m sorry, I--I don’t know.”

“I was willing to be lenient last year for obvious reasons, Elena,” The pen in Lee’s hand snaps. Thankfully it was so low on ink it didn’t get all over her or her desk. Oh, I’m snapping this guy’s neck. Fuck whether or not Stefan helps me hide the body. “But the personal excuses ended with the summer break.” The hurt on her face, the waves of it were rolling off of her. 

“There were 346 casualties, unless you’re counting local civilians.” Lee states, a smug smirk on her lips as she leans back into the chair. Eyes daring him to question her. She feels the eyes of her brother and Elena on her, but doesn’t look away from the poor excuse of a man in front of her.

“That’s correct,” His eyes travel between Lee and Elena before settling on Lee. The vampire can see he isn’t pleased. If it’s because someone actually knew the answer or if it’s because she answered out of turn, Lee didn’t know or rightfully give a damn. “Miss…”

“Salvatore. Lee Salvatore.” Lee tilts her head a little. There’s a modest smile tugging at the corners of Elena’s lips, almost as a thank you. 

“Salvatore.” Elena’s eyes go back to the asshole in front of the room. “Any relation to the original settlers here at Mystic Falls?” Lee really should have seen that one coming.

“Possibly. If they are, it's very distant.” She answers vaguely. Last thing they need is someone to find pictures from 1864.

“Well, very good. Except, of course, there were no civilian casualties in this battle.” Is he really trying to save face? A low dangerous laugh brushes past her lips softly.

“Lee,” Stefan warns, his eyes begging her not to do what he knows is coming.

Lee raises the hand from her side slightly to stop her brother. If Stefan is going to just sit there, that’s on him. Way to protect your girl, big brother. “Seriously?” She looks at the man in front of her in disbelief. “Where exactly did you get your degree?”

“Excuse me?” Mr.Tanner asks, his voice laced with anger.

“Lee!” Stefan says louder this time.

“Hush, Stefan.” Lee grounds out, her eyes never leaving their teacher. “Actually, there were. Twenty-seven to be exact. Confederate soldiers fired on the church, Fell’s church. They believed it was housing weapons. They were wrong.” Lee shuts her notebook that’s on her desk, knowing after this she’s either going to be thrown out into the hall until the period ends or she’s going to be sitting in the principal's office. This man is too petty to let this go. “It was a night of great loss. The founder’s archives are stored in civil hall if you’d like to brush up on your facts, Mr.Tanner.” The look on Elena’s face is priceless--it’s almost one she recognizes. Bonnie is trying her best to hide her amusement but failing. Stefan looks like he could throttle her. There are a few students chuckling. “I’ll just see myself out.”

“Mm-hmm.” 

Lee grabs her satchel from the floor as she moves toward the front of the room and out into the hallway. At least he hadn’t told her to head toward the office.

[seerofmike]

31 Days of Apex: Day 24 (Hobby)

pairing: crypto & pathfinder

word count: 1.3k

tags: spoilers for the broken ghost

fic summary: Crypto draws when he’s bored, and Pathfinder wants to learn.

ao3 link

OR

read below

Taejoon had a headache.

It could be for any number of reasons, really. It could be the fact that Witt hadn’t shut up for the past half hour, talking so enthusiastically about himself to anyone who was willing to listen. It could be that Silva was playing three video games at once and shouting every time he won, or lost (which was far more frequent). It could be the drone and hum of the dropship, so deep and rumbling he swore he could feel it in his soul.

Any one of these would be easy excuses, but he knew the real reason; it was because he had been staring at a computer screen for the better part of nine hours without once stopping.

Taejoon massaged his temples with a groan, eyes squeezed shut, but he swore he could still see the lines of code burned into his eyelids. They had another two days until they dropped onto this new planet, and while mostly everyone was avoiding him, he could perhaps take this time to enjoy some of his other hobbies without having anyone breathe down his neck.

Shutting his computer off, Taejoon knelt down onto the floor to pull out a small box. It contained a few books and pencils, and he picked up the battered copy of a cheesy romance novel he’d read through about ten times already. The plot was about two esports players falling in love, and while Mila had gotten it for him as, like, a joke, he unironically liked it. It was funny, and sometimes, he needed funny.

This time, though, Taejoon could only stomach a few pages. The words seemed to be swimming before his eyes, physically hurting his retinas, and with a sigh he shut it and put it back in the box. Okay, so he wouldn’t be able to read due to his headache. Maybe he should try something else.

Eyeing the sketchbook in his box, which hadn’t been touched in months, he wondered if he should even bother. The dropship occasionally rumbled, and he hated making mistakes, but it was really his only other form of entertainment at this point that didn’t involve worsening his headache. So Taejoon took it out of the box, wiped the dust from the cover with his sleeve, and settled down on his cot with a pencil in hand.

He didn’t really have a goal in mind as he drew--just doodled whatever came to him, and before long the page was filled with sketches of his drone and the occasional cat. He flipped the page to draw on the next one, this time having someone in mind--the main characters on the cover of his novel. He drew two faces side-by-side before starting to sketch their hair, giving one of them dreads as described in the book and the other one wild bedhead. He was just starting to add detail to their faces when a voice made him freeze.

“Hi, friend! I like your drawing!”

Letting out a short puff of breath, Taejoon held his sketchbook close to his chest and glanced over at Pathfinder, who was standing there, his screen its usual smiley face.

“What are you doing here,” Taejoon said, much too flat to be a proper question.

“Mirage told me to go away, so now, I’m here. I saw you drawing, and I wanted to say I like it very much!” Pathfinder’s screen changed to one with heart eyes. “Could you teach me to draw?”

“No,” Taejoon said. 

“I think I would be very good. I can make poems, too. Do you want to hear a poem?”

“If I say yes, will you leave me alone?”

“Hmm...maybe!”

Taejoon sighed, closing his eyes briefly, before nodding.

“Okay!” Pathfinder knocked against his screen to get it back into its smiley face, and then started: “My name is Pathfinder. I like writing cool poems. I want to be friends.”

He stopped, and seemed to look at Taejoon expectantly, who raised an eyebrow in response.

“That’s it?” He asked.

“It was a haiku!”

“...It was nice,” Taejoon lied, not really caring for poetry. When Pathfinder didn’t move, he jerked his head a little to the wider area of the dropship, hoping he would get the memo. “You can go now...”

“But I want to watch you draw!” Pathfinder said, and Taejoon sighed to himself. His head was hurting too much to argue, so with a reluctant sigh he set his sketchbook back down in his lap. He would finish this page and then turn in for the night if Pathfinder hadn’t left yet. Going back to sketching, he gave the characters eyebrows and eyes with ease, but had to erase their noses and redraw them about ten times each.

“Are you having trouble?” Pathfinder asked, sounding curious, despite not much changing in the inflection of his voice.

“I keep making their noses off-center,” Taejoon mumbled distractedly, before finally managing to give them both proper noses and moving on to their mouths. He almost forgot Pathfinder was there as he sketched their clothes, giving the both of them what he always pictured them to be wearing--Dante a baggy hoodie, and Chul a patchy jacket and torn t-shirt.

“Who are you drawing?” Pathfinder suddenly said, reminding him of the fact that he was still standing there and watching him.

“Characters,” he answered through gritted teeth.

“From what?”

“A book.”

“What kind of book?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Taejoon said, because god forbid anyone hear that he liked cheesy romance novels. 

“What’s it about?”

“Why are you even here?" He finally snapped, slamming his pencil down and fixing the robot with a bleary glare. "Shouldn't you be avoiding me like everyone else?"

"Why would I avoid you?" Pathfinder sounded genuinely puzzled.

"Because nobody trusts me." His fists clenched at his sides as he recalled the moment his drone flew around the room, speaking with Revenant's voice, and he felt a hollow feeling form in his stomach as he remembered Wattson's shocked face. Why didn't Pathfinder just leave him alone, like everyone else? Even after Gibraltar had revealed the true culprit, they all still tiptoed around him, untrusting.

He was tired of being framed.

"I trust you," Pathfinder said, and Taejoon stared at him.

"...What?"

"I trust you! Because you're my friend, and that's what friends are for."

Taejoon stared at the other for quite a long time, trying to formulate a response, before he slowly picked up his sketchbook and mumbled, "Shut up."

The MRVN went quiet after that, but he didn’t go away. Taejoon finished up his sketch after giving both of the characters basic-looking sneakers (he wasn’t very good at drawing shoes) and slammed the book shut, glad to get rid of Pathfinder as he leaned over to put it in his box. When he straightened up, Pathfinder’s screen had changed into heart eyes once again.

“I loved your drawing!” Pathfinder said, and gave a little clap. “Your lines are very smooth! Your expressions are very fun! I can tell you really like art!”

Taejoon felt heat rise to his face, but turned his head away under the guise of shoving the box back under his bed as he tried to formulate a response. He’d always liked receiving compliments on his drawings, had usually showed them to Mila so she could list off everything she liked about it to give him a bit of a confidence boost, but he hadn’t had that in years. Finally, Taejoon straightened up, and said coolly,

“Thank you. Maybe I will teach you one day.”

“Well, I look forward to it!” Pathfinder suddenly raised his metal hand, and asked in as hopeful a voice a robot could manage: “High five?”

Taejoon stared at it for a second, debating with himself, before quietly obliging, and Pathfinder’s screen was the most ecstatic he'd ever seen it.

[ticklishraspberries]

Try

A/N: (Hello! Haven’t been round here in a while, but it’s still lovely; you’re still lovely. And here’s a dual thank-you-for-filling-my-late-it-cravings and I-miss-stan-he-deserves-some-fix-it-fluff-too thoughts. Hope you’re having a good one!!)

This is so cute!! I loved it, thank you for submitting!! - Raspberry xo

There was a time in Stan’s life where he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen someone get tickled. It might happen occasionally; a poke here or there to accent a point or get someone to shift away. Then Richie decided he rather liked tickling, and well—

It’s not like any of the Losers had a lot of say when Richie wanted something.

But it wasn’t horrible, as much as Stan might’ve feared anyway. When half their time dissolved into wrestling matches, tussling and rolling around the carpet of Bill’s room, the addition of some wandering, wiggling fingers just meant less bruising (most of the time) and more laughing (all of the time).

This was probably due to the fact that the group, surprisingly or not, knew a lot about each person’s limits, even without saying so.

Richie didn’t have any, first of all. He was as content with ticklish tracing down his back as he was getting pinned to the ground and thoroughly taken apart. Of course, none of the Losers went full overboard or anything nasty, but even the more sadistic times they could remember left Richie cherry red and teary-eyed, beaming long after the tickling had stopped.

On the other side of the spectrum, Stan would have to put himself.

That’s not to say he had a problem participating in the suddenly numerous amount of tickle fights the group now had. If anything, he might even enjoy them, as long as Richie never found out. The gloating of his ‘genius idea’ would be unbearable and likely result in him getting tackled and wrecked—which is exactly what he wanted anyways, defeating the point entirely.

So yes, he enjoyed them, but almost strictly as the one doing the tickling.

Then he started dating Bill.

Dating Bill was easy, especially once their friends stopped their ‘subtle’ gawking and lame teasing. It was as cool and natural as their friendship, with the bonus of cuddles whenever Stan so desired (and he wouldn’t have thought that he’d want them all that much, but once he got them, he couldn’t imagine being without them).

And as their friendship slid easily into their relationship, so did their friend group’s element of random, frequent tickle fights.

And Stan liked them even more, if he were to be honest.

There is nothing in the world that can beat the sound of Bill Denbrough’s laughter or the look on his face as Stan scribbles quick and nimble fingers up his sides.

He’s a constant stream of babbling nonsense with no way to understand through his laughter and stutter combined. His hands tug uselessly at Stan’s sleeves, body squirming violently without going anywhere. His eyes get all crinkly with a smile so bright that when Stan stops, he feels more breathless than he thinks Bill might be.

Just the thought of Bill, flushed red and breathing deeply through stray giggles has Stan’s fingers itching for something to do, but—

That’s exactly what he shouldn’t do.

Stan blinks, eyes focusing back on his surroundings.

The TV is still on, at some part of the movie, though Stan has absolutely no idea where. He could’ve zoned out five minutes ago or fifty. This may even be a new movie; he’s not sure.

He can feel Bill take a deep breath behind him, chest raising enough to push lightly behind Stan’s back.

Bill’s hand lies still on his side.

And that—that’s what started Stan’s train of thought.

Because Bill, he was a bit of a fidgeter, at least when it came to touch.

He constantly had his hands moving; winding through Stan’s curls, rubbing over his back, caressing his cheeks. It was nice, one of Stan’s favorite things, actually. But Stan was perceptive, and he’d started to notice something.

He started to notice that Bill’s hands would sometimes, and with increasing frequency, come to a dead stop.

It happened when the were in his room, wasting the night away with slow kisses, his hands drifting slowly from Stan’s hair down his neck.

It happened in the night, when he held Stan from behind, a hand clasped over the front of his stomach.

And it happened just now, when his hand slipped from doodling small patterns over the sleeve of Stan’s upper arm to lay over his side.

Stan had noticed, though he hadn’t said a word. And he’d spent the week trying to put the pieces together, though it hadn’t really clicked until last night.

They were lounging around Bill’s room, splayed out over his bedsheets. It was all casual conversation when Bill shot off a snarky comment that had Stan poking a giggle out of him, a sound Stan felt compelled to chase after. And then after he’d wrestled Bill down and made him cry mercy—

Bill had sat up, a glint in his eyes.

A glint that had Stan’s eyes widening, skin prickling.

And then the look left, and Bill tugged him into a gentle and tired cuddle.

And it sounded dumb at the time, when Stan had tried to work out what just happened, but now-

Did Bill want to tickle him?

The thought sends heat crawling up Stan’s neck; it’s dumb and embarrassing, but-

It makes sense, if he thinks about it.

While Bill did get his fair share of attacks in the group, he’d never been one to turn down revenge. He’d even start a fight or two, if one of their friends looked a little bored or put out, just to liven them back up again.

Having a younger brother, Bill did have some of the most experience in this niche topic. He’d definitely sent more than one of the Losers into hysterics with his skilled, probing fingers.

And just the image of Bill, straddling a friend Stan can’t bother to conjure into better focus, with his head tilted, grin teasing, a devilish glint to his eyes—

Stan’s wants so badly to turn and check that Bill can’t feel the heat that’s burning his ears, but that’d probably look even more suspicious than what his paranoid brain is coming up with now.

So, what?

The problem had been found, mostly, kind of. It’s the closest thing to an answer Stan can reason to anyways, what with the small amount of information he’s gathered.

So this would be the part where he plans out the solution.

But—

Stan shifts in muddled discomfort before he can really think about what he’s doing. He masks it as repositioning and settles back more snuggly against Bill’s chest, hoping his boyfriend hasn’t noticed.

He settles for worrying at his lip, still lost in thought.

He doesn’t know how ticklish he is. He doesn’t even know if he is ticklish.

When tickle frights became a normal thing in the Losers’ Club—and even the thought has Stan rolling his eyes—he’d been hesitant.

Alright, more than hesitant, he’d been opposed.

The thought of being squished against the floor, hands ruffling through his clothes, while he made any number of weird snorting (Bill), shrieking (Eddie), or combined (Richie) kind of noise—

It unsettled him.

And bless him, somehow all of his friends, down to Richie ‘no boundaries’ Tozier, had gotten it without being asked and let him be.

But now…

Now he hears a thump and screaming laughter and he’s not scared. He’s sometimes annoyed, sometimes entertained. But now, it’s the new normal and…

His eyes roll more forcefully, almost rolling right out of his head.

It’s the new normal and he kind of wishes someone had just gotten him involved already so he didn’t have to go through the process of giving his boyfriend permission to tickle him.

The movie is still going, but Stan is 100% sure Bill isn’t paying attention. If he were, he’d have already gone back to some mindless, endearing movement, but his hand still lies fixed on Stan’s waist.

So Stan flips forward onto his stomach before pushing himself up to straddle Bill’s legs. Now Bill seems to be paying attention, though he only get a small “w-wha-“ out before his mouth seals shut at Stan’s hands, slipping under his shirt to drum lightly on his stomach.

He immediately goes to bite his lip, fighting to keep the twitching of his mouth to a minimum. Stan can’t help the smile that takes his own face. And though he knows what his goal is, he can’t help a quick swipe of fingers that has Bill tensing, eyes shutting, and mouth puffing in a startled breath, before he continues the steady tap-tap-tap.

“S-Stan, come on. Are you r-re-really-“

Another gratuitous scribble of Stan’s fingers catches Bill mid-speech and pulls a bright laugh out of him before his mouth zips shut once again, stubbornly refusing to let Stan catch him off guard.

And then they’re silent—waiting—tension growing with every bored tap of Stan’s fingers.

And Stan, he was just going to say it.

Rather, his plan was to just go out and say it.

But for some reason, the words, “You can tickle me, if you want,” are stuck somewhere beneath his windpipe. And in the time it takes for Stan to wrestle them into his mouth, Bill’s smile has shifted from one of light torment to full-bodied amusement.

He raises an eyebrow, when Stan finally meets his gaze, a repressed huff of laughter shaking his chest even though Stan’s fingers have stilled.

And damn it if this deviates a little from the plan, but sometimes Bill is just asking for it.

So Stan decides to take the scenic route to his destination, scribbling his fingers over Bill’s lower stomach and admiring the view when his shocked expression quickly crumbles into unrestrained laughter.

Bill does as Bill always does, grabbing ahold of the fabric around Stan’s wrists without really doing much to block the movement of his fingers, spidering up to his rib cage and back down. He just needs something to hold onto and the thought would make Stan smile if he weren’t already.

As his fingers travel along the familiar space, tracing nonsense onto Bill’s stomach, kneading along his sides, and scratching at the bone and spaces of his ribs (maybe sneaking a poke or two under his arms when he’s dumb enough to keep them up), Bill’s squirming only grows more wild.

It’s kind of funny actually. Here Bill is, able to pin any one of them down in a wrestling match (or whenever he finds it necessary to help someone else get some well-deserved revenge), and yet he never tries to use any of that strength to just, say, buck his torturer off.

It’s really not that hard a conclusion to come to, even if your mind is preoccupied with something more…pressing. But Bill still manages to let that slip his mind entirely, every time, and instead squirms and jolts and writhes around until he’s spent.

Sometimes Stan thinks Richie isn’t the only one who’s taken a liking to this new pastime of their’s. But Stan is a nice boyfriend, so he won’t embarrass Bill with that conclusion yet.

There’s enough pink in Bill’s cheeks now to see in the dark of the living room, lit only by the television long forgotten in the corner. The color starts somewhere beneath the collar of his shirt and washes up to the tips of his ears. Stan’s fingers travel with a mind of their own, slipping up the side of Bill’s well-travelled torso to follow the path of color.

And although Bill’s movements had calmed slightly as the tickling went on, fingers spidering up the side of his neck are enough to get him going again. His shoulder flinches inward, hands moving to fist in Stan’s shirt and push him marginally back. A desperate and semi-clear, “p-p-plehehease!” squeaks out through the blubbering.

Stan lingers, long enough for Bill’s nose to scrunch up and deliver an unfairly adorable snort, kicking the color in his face up a notch, before he finally stops, leaving his hand to play with the wild hair mussed up around the nape of Bill’s neck.

It doesn’t take Bill too long to get his breath back, though the tingly feeling of Stan playing with his hair does punctuate his breathy ‘calm down’ laughter with a sharp giggle or two every now and then.

It’s a sight Stan can’t get enough of and who could blame him?

But then, he’s reminded of exactly how this all came to be and exactly what is waiting for him.

One hand slips loose of Stan’s shirt, settling behind Bill for him to use as leverage. He pushes himself up, a smile on his face, but one much more controlled, more devious than the one Stan had put on his face moments before. His eyes are sparkling with left over laughter and steely with a quiet determination.

The hand still gripping one side of Stan’s shirt, hovering over his side, is suddenly all Stan can think about.

But all too soon, Bill’s gaze starts to go soft again. Stan latently thinks of what he must look like, the deer-in-the-headlights look, the spike of fear that muddles the strange anticipation in his gut. It’s got to be this that has Bill backing down before he’s even touched him.

“You know, you can-“ Bill’s eyes find Stan’s from where he’s begun settling back into the pillows. Stan has to take a second to refocus. He swallows.

“You can get me back, if you want.”

And that seems to be the last thing Bill was expecting, if his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline means anything. His mouth hangs open for a second, trying to speak with no sound coming out. Bill clears his throat.

“S-Stan, are you-?”

The question fades out and Stan has absolutely no idea why it has him feeling twitchy. The need to slip off Bill’s lap, out of his hold, grows strong in the back of his head.

“I don’t know,” His tongue feels dry. “But you can—you can try.”

The statement ends high, like a question, with Stan shifting his position at how awkward it all sounds. Bill doesn’t move his hand an inch, from where it’s still fisted in his tee, but Stan’s own movements have the fabric ghosting against his side and tingling in a shockingly new and sensitive way.

And they just sit there, in silence. Bill probably still staring up at Stan; he wouldn’t know. For some reason—despite how confusing this situation is making him feel—he knows for a fact that he’ll blow a fuse if he keeps looking Bill in the eye after finally spitting that out, so he doesn’t.

They sit there so long—at least it feels ridiculously long—in such a tense silence that Stan feels the sudden need to apologize.

Maybe he got it wrong. Maybe Bill was just forming new habits and Stan read too much into it. Maybe now he’s gone and asked Bill to—to tickle him, basically, and now he’s weirded out!

Stan gets so caught up in his own internal rambling that he doesn’t recognize the soft yet persistent pinching against his side until he’s jerking away and into the couch cushions.

It stops upon impact, but as soon as Stan’s pushed himself back upright, it’s back and worse.

A gasp catches in his throat and his left arm is pushing at the feeling with no thought as to what is could be, just that it needs to stop.

Then three things happen, in rapid succession.

First, Stan’s fingers tangle with Bill’s.

Next comes the realization of what’s happening, a realization Bill seems to have at the same time.

Then, Bill’s sly grin makes a reappearance, and Stan feels breathless all over.

Of course, that’s nothing compared to what real breathlessness can be, Stan finds out.

Because it’s a quick tussle that leads to their positions reversed, Stan—frazzled and still in minor shock—pinned underneath Bill—whose smile seems to grow with every second.

And then Bill’s fingers are tripping up Stan’s sides, clumsy in their excitement, but very, very effective.

They’re so devastatingly effective that Stan doesn’t actually realize he’s laughing until the room is echoing with it.

It sounds almost foreign to his own ears, high and frantic and loud. He can’t remember the last time he laughed so long or hard, but it’s not the most prominent thought on his mind at the moment. What is front and center is the tingling, electric, and down right debilitating sensation sparking along his body.

If Stan could get a coherent word, or even thought in, he might compliment Bill on his thorough technique. All that comes out though is a series of mortifying squeals and varying degrees of laughter. Ironically enough, this seems to be all the compliment of skill Bill needs.

His hands work methodically to trace, prod, and spider over every conceivable tickle spot Stan might have. And while it answers Stan’s lingering curiosity of his body, he did not need to know with such depth (or any depth, really) the different pitches of his own laughter that come from Bill drilling into each and every one of his ribs. Of course, Bill finds this to be critical information, and it might drive Stan a little crazy.

It’s only once Bill wriggles his fingers into the space under Stan’s arms that he squeals and latches onto Bill’s wrists.

Oh, yes, self-defense is a thing. Maybe Stan wouldn’t judge Bill on forgetting that quite so harshly next time.

But even with Bill’s hands in his grasp, Stan can’t just…push them away.

He could—physically. Despite the barrage of giggles pouring from him, he knows he could shove Bill onto the carpet or at least away from his shockingly sensitive armpits with enough effort.

But when he peeks through damp lashes (when did he start tearing up?), Bill looks the happiest Stan can remember seeing in a while. And beneath all that giddiness is a look so fond, it warms Stan in a way even his useless struggling hasn’t done yet.

So he—gives in.

His hands stay clamped around Bill’s wrists but do little more than squeeze tighter when Bill’s mouth joins the fray, dotting kisses into the crook of Stan’s neck and making him squeak externally and groan internally at the sappy picture they must make.

And in what must be the most surprising revelation of the night, Stan finds that he…doesn’t hate this.

He didn’t expect to truly despise it or anything (though he can’t say the thought didn’t cross his mind). But even so, the fears he’d had before—about losing control and feeling silly—haven’t really been an issue. And the unexpected pros of Bill being touchy, fixed with that sunshine-bright smile, and leaving him with the pleasant ache of a good laugh—

It’s actually kind of nice.

Damn it, Richie.

Stan doesn’t have the mind to follow that thought though, or any other matter-of-fact, because as soon as it enter his head, Bill’s fingers have slipped into the dips of his hip bones and started drilling in.

And he may have—no, definitely—spoken too soon, because it’s not until that point that Stan really does loose his mind.

It’s like the tingles that’ve floated through his body have all decided to ricochet towards one unbelievably sensitive point, and the shriek leaves his mouth before he can even get the breath for it.

Stan’s hips buck up instinctually, trying frantically to displace the sudden, overwhelming feeling. He can hear weird shrieking and loud laughter that can’t possibly be coming from him, but he can’t place it over the number one priority of getting enough air in.

He doesn’t know what to do, what to say. His body and mind are live wires that won’t connect, so he does the only thing he can think to do.

“B-Bill, plehease!” Stan gasps out, and—just like that—Bill’s hands are rubbing firm, soothing, and decidedly non-tickly strokes over the lingering prickle in Stan’s hips.

Stan is still gasping, like he’d just run a marathon if not for the intermittent strings of laughter. When Bill slides off Stan’s legs and into the space beside him, Stan can’t comment, but he does shift closer to smother the last of his soft giggles into Bill’s chest.

At that point, Stan is put together enough to realize that Bill is laughing, albeit without making any noise, but still laughing at Stan. So Stan smacks his shoulder, without any of the force that he should be using, before snuggling back into Bill’s arms. It has the opposite effect in making Bill laugh more, but Stan can’t be bothered to care; all he wants right now is to nap.

And with Bill’s hand rubbing softly up and down his back, sometimes trailing lightly in a way Stan now recognizes as a little bit ticklish, it’s all he can do to not pass out then and there.

But first, his voice comes out low and slurred.

“You are not telling the others about this.”

Bill laughs again, this time out loud. The shaking of his chest earns another smack from Stan. But between that and the kiss he leaves on Stan’s forehead, Stan falls into a peaceful sleep, a soft smile still on his face.

(Of course, the others do end up finding out. And Stan knows Bill didn’t say anything—at least purposefully—by the shock of his wide eyes and the apologetic gaze he offers Stan when Richie throws the first teasing comment.

Stan figured this would happen honestly, but that doesn’t stop him from rolling his eyes and flipping Richie the bird.

Things don’t change too drastically, even so. Sometimes Richie will tase his sides to steal Stan’s attention away from his books. Sometimes Eddie will poke at his ribs to check if he’s paying attention to his lectures.

Once in a while someone will try to catch him unaware and launch an attack. And sometimes he’ll just—let it happen. Because it’s really not that bad and it can feel nice to laugh with friends—especially when Stan knows he can turn the tables at any moment.

The only thing that does worry him for some time is the thought of someone slipping their hands a little lower than his sides. Call it baby steps, but Stan doesn’t feel quite ready to let that loose in front of a crowd.

But thanks to the fact that Stan’s hipbones are secured safely underneath the band of his pants, a place even Richie wouldn’t venture in his little experiments (if only because of Bill’s glaring), Stan feels sure enough that his secret will stay safe.

As safe as possible, anyways, with Bill already abusing the information.

Because as many times as Stan thinks, and even calls, Bill a monster for using that secret so liberally when they’re alone, Bill will always shoot back, smiling ear to ear, that he’ll stop as soon as Stan asks him to.

And well, behind the lingering smile and buzzing warmth in his stomach, Stan finds himself ignoring the teasing comment and diving right back in to make sure Bill knows the same is true for him too.)

[guardmesherlock-rowan]

MC’s robots!

Anon:  Could I request something with the three main boys - like the MC is secretly back at college and studies something in the tech branch but is struggling hard with math because she has a mean combo of learning disability and adhd and so she is keeping it hush hush because she always wanted to create robots but she loves acting too and the boys and parents have always praised her for her acting leaving unsure how to communicate that she wants more - basically something neurodiv. (+) positiv.  Please

(I hope this is something like what you’re looking for)

Finally, some things clicked.  Her notebook is full of notes, doodles, and more importantly a math problem that MC had been trying to solve.  She had done it a few different ways, and some of them tried more than once getting different answers each time.  Only when she was trying to make sure that her dinner didn’t burn that she realized why it hadn’t worked.  Turned out the third time she tried to solve it she was almost right.  It was frustrating, but it also felt like such a relief that she could use it and get further on the project.  The building would be closing soon, but while she was thinking about it she wanted to put it to work.  So it was there tomorrow if it worked, and find out now if it didn’t just in case she was wrong again.

MC put earbuds in, listening to music in hopes that she could stay focused on her destination and not get sidetracked.  There are little tricks that she had learned and picked up to make it a little easier for herself.  Especially when she wasn’t ready to come out and tell her friends and family.  She loved the creative acting side and analyzing characters and putting on a performance and letting those characters breathe through her.  But she also loved being creative in how she went about creating robots and being analytical in solving her problems with them.  Her parents were always supportive of her acting, but she knew they had been concerned when she was younger about her trouble with more science and math based classes and didn’t want to worry them until she could show them what she could do.  

Then with her friends, they would probably be supportive and would want her to do what she likes to do.  However, they’re all very smart.  They praised her for her acting abilities too.  Would they see her differently at all if they found out the truth?  Would they think she wasn’t as clever as they had thought?  Even if it wasn’t likely, the worries weighed heavily enough that MC held back talking to them about it.  They would know once she was ready to share her accomplishments with them.

That’s what she told herself as she hurried to the lab.  Only to come to a halt in the doorway, her stomach churning as she took in the sight before her.  The lab was a disaster.  Half the projects that had been completed by her classmates laid shattered on the floor, and the teacher stood there talking to someone she wished wasn’t making direct eye contact with her.

Sherlock:  He was surprised to see MC there.  But he had been following the progress of the class due to the curious nature of a few of the projects, so when he heard there was a break in he came hoping for an interesting case.  There was one, but not as interesting as he’d hope.  Solved before the teacher was even halfway through explaining what they knew.  Now he sees the horror flickering across her face.  She didn’t expect to see him there.  She had come for some purpose.  She carried a bookbag with her.  She must be a student.  It is late in the day, she must be rushing to add something to a project that couldn’t have waited.  “Miss MC?”  The teacher started, “did you come to work on your project?”  

“No.”  Too fast, too high.  MC was startled and surprised.  Normally she could cover up a lie faster than that.  The teacher gave her a kind smile.

“Luckily your project is one of the few that are intact if you wanted to take a look at it?”  He indicated off to one of the tables.  The project that sat on it was not nearly as far along as some of her classmates, and not as progressed as the trashed pieces had been.  She had been struggling.  

He wrapped up with the teacher, letting him know which student had been the culprit and for what reason.  And turned his attention to MC while the teacher rushed out to update security on the matter.  Sherlock stepped up to the table where she sat looking down at her projects.  “I don’t know why you’re hiding this, but I respect your privacy.  You will tell me when you’re ready?”  It was strange, normally he would want answers immediately.  But since it was MC, he would wait as long as she needed.  “Your robot looks promising, I hope you will show it to me once it’s finished.”  He added, helping MC smile a little bit.

John: John stood talking with the teacher, taking notes as needed.  Sherlock had been too busy to go but was still insistent that John needed to go in his place.  Which worked out in a way.  As now he got to see MC, though he didn’t know why she would be there.  He finished up taking notes from the teacher and taking pictures as the teacher directed MC to a back table where another project sat. 

John couldn’t tell exactly what was wrong, but MC seemed very tense.  As soon as he was done collecting the notes for Sherlock he hurried over to where she sat.  “What are you doing here?”

“I’m- uh.”

“Are you taking classes here?”  John encouraged, he wasn’t as good as Sherlock, but he could at least see that the teacher knew her.  

“Yeah…”

“That’s cool!  Is this your project?”

“Yeah.”

“What does it do?”

She sighed, “right now it doesn’t do anything.  I still need to work on it.”  

“Well, that’s alright.  A lot of projects are works in progress.”  She sat there silently, it was unusual for her to be that quiet.  “Hey, if you don’t want me to say anything, I’ll keep my lips shut.  But I got to warn you that Sherlock may figure it out anyway.  He’s weird that way.  But everyone’s brains work a little differently you know.  Sherlock is just super observant.  Maybe he’ll tell due to-”  John fumbled for words, “a strand of your hair on my clothing covered in pollen from trees I walk by on my way home.  I’ve seen him do something like that.”

“I guess.  Looks like my secret is going to be uncovered.”

“Maybe… do you want to go find someplace to grab something to eat?  Then I can say I ran into you and we got food.”

“I already had dinner.”

“Desert then?”  John smiled sweetly.  “If you came to work on your project I’m afraid you’re not going to until they sort things out.  It’s kind of a crime scene.”

“Sure.”  MC smiled.

“We can talk about anything you’d like.”

“I think I’d like that.”

James: There was hardly anything that happens in the school without his knowledge.  Or anything that happens to MC without him knowing.  It wasn’t the same school he worked for, but he was known well enough that when something happened in MC’s class no one questioned when he swung in to help advise an old colleague of his.  

It was only a blessing that MC would arrive at the same time.  He bid the teacher farewell and went over to her.  “MC!  What a lovely surprise!  What brings you here?”  He smiled adoringly.  

“Did something happen here?”  She looked around at the chaos.  But James stepped in close, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and escorted her out of the lab.  “Seems that some lad got jealous because a classmate’s project could do what his did but faster.  Then to cover it up he trashed different projects in his half of the room.  Childish really.  I’m so glad that your project was left unharmed.  I was looking forward to hearing how well it goes.”

“How did you know about my robot?”  She stopped, standing to face him.  

“I was visiting and noticed your name on the paperwork near it a while back.”  He lied so easily.  “But I figured there was a reason you didn’t tell me.  I was hoping maybe you wanted to surprise me.  I know you’re good at that.”  

“Actually, I wasn’t sure if I was going to tell you about it.”  She admitted.  

James faked a little gasped, “but why not?”

Mc shook her head, “I don’t think you would understand.”

“MC.”  James carefully took her chin and tilted her face to his.  “There is nothing about you that I don’t want to know.  Please, if there’s something bothering you, let me help you.  All you need to do is ask.”

“I know, thank you.”

“How about over dessert?”  

“Now?”

“No time better.”  He gently took her hand and led her towards the doors.

[fight-for-humanity]

Hunger

[cw: violence, swearing]

A dim glow of the street lamps illuminated the quiet town of Redacre. From this sight alone, one might make the assumption that it was a normal, peaceful town, where families gathered around the dinner table each evening to have a meal together and spend time in each other’s company, or where kids would go to school to meet up with their friends to laugh, joke, and talk about the most recent gossip or who they were going to junior prom with. But, I knew better. We all did. Dinner tables were often empty. Families were too tired to spend time together, either because they never slept or they dug down in the labyrinth hidden underneath the town all night. Innocent teen gossip was replaced by the somber air surrounding the discussion of who went missing the previous night.

And then there were kids like me, sorry bastards who were fortunate enough to hear Voices in our heads and wake up in the middle of the night in odd places where we didn’t initially close our eyes. I was a member of the esteemed Blackout Club who sought to disrupt the nightly operations of one of these mystifying Voices, often at the expense of a good night’s rest. Fortunately for me, it was the last objective of the night. Upon its completion, I would be able to head back to the boxcar for a quick nap before sneaking back home. Some nights, I had a group to keep me company, but not this night. Schedules clash and accidents happen, especially with the risky work we’re doing. I zipped up my black hoodie to stave off the cold Virginia air. I wanted to get this mission done as soon as possible.

Bzzzzzz.

I froze suddenly, then grimaced. Damn phone. I wish I could just turn it off during missions, but HQ insists we leave our phones on so they can track our progress and send us updates while we’re “out in the field”. Admittedly, it provides some insurance, in the odd case we get suppressed and need to be saved in the morning. Still, I can’t help but jump out of my shoes everytime it buzzes in my pocket. With a sigh, I retrieved the damn thing and looked at the message. 

Your Stalker: “Behind you.”

A gasp escaped my lips. My blood ran cold at the sight of the text message. Reflexively, I twisted my head around to see a familiar face, one I hoped I wouldn’t see again. Aaron Costa, leaning against a tree and looking directly at me. A black bandana covered the lower half of his face, and he wore a signature white and red jacket. The last time I saw him, he tried to drag me to the red door, force me to live in an eternal slumber, listening to the same old song forever. He tried to make me a walking puppet for the Voice that was deemed worse than the others.

“Please. Don’t freak out,” he hushed before I could say anything, his hands raised half way in an attempt to appear unthreatening. It was a decent attempt, but at his height, he mostly towered over me. He’d be a threat to the average person. Still, for as much of a threat that he was, my eyes couldn’t help but wander to the scar down the side of his face. It was the battle wound I gave him when I managed to get away from him on that fateful night. 

I took a step back. “What the hell do you want?” I hissed, teeth bared. I glanced left and right to look for possible escape routes. I might be able to outrun him. I knew for damn sure I could out maneuver him. The Club’s training made sure we could escape an enemy bigger than ourselves.

“I need your help, RK,” Aaron pleaded, pulling down his bandana and taking a step forward. In response, I took a couple steps back. If he gets within arm’s reach of me again, it’s game over. I’ll be at the red door before I know it, and I have no spare drone part to save me this time. He froze, noticing that I was putting space between us. “I’m…” he stammered. It was odd to see him flustered. He always had this air of calm around him, but I guess that’s just who I thought he was. It was just a ruse to get close to me, so he could convert me to his weird religion. 

“I’m sorry about what I did. What I said about your brother was insensitive,” he continued. “I was just…” he paused, searching for words. “I didn’t expect you to respond like that. I thought I could show you how that club lies about us, how destructive they are, how much better it would be with us. I failed, so I felt like... it was the only way to keep you as my friend. It was desperate and stupid.” There was a certain honesty behind those brown eyes, imploring me to listen. I was such a sucker for sob stories, but the voice of reason in my head was too strong. I knew we could never be friends like we once were.

“Well, what the hell did you expect to happen?” I growled, tightly crossing my arms in front of my chest. “You chose your Voice over me, a person! A human being!” Aaron didn’t respond, his gaze sinking to the ground. Did he want to argue about it, but was holding his tongue? I wasn't sure. In a different town, with no Voices, we would have been friends. I couldn’t help but wonder how my other relationships would be different if the looming threat of Voices didn’t hang over everyone. 

Here, in Redacre, I wasn’t afforded that opportunity. I always had to remember the grasp the Voices had on everyone, how much people tried to fill in missing puzzle pieces with them, to dull the emptiness and pain that was so common to the human condition. I had to remember what people were willing to do for the Voices. I could never forget. My honest friendship could never compete with a millennia of manipulation techniques. I’m not good enough. I would be thrown to the wolves easily, just like before.

After a moment of silence between us, my curiosity got the best of me. With a sigh, I asked, “What do you need help with? I’m not doing any stupid Chorus things.”

The tension in Aaron’s shoulders relaxed as he let out a breath. “No. It’s nothing like that,” he explained. “We are...being hunted. By the Beast."

"The Beast?" I asked.

"The Hunter," he clarified. "Some of us have gone missing, and I know you have been making notes." 

I arched a brow. "How do you know that?"

"Kids talk at school," he answered. "Please, RK. I don't want more people getting hurt. I just need more information so I can help protect them."

"You mean protect more Stalkers like you?" I gave him a skeptical look and planted my hands on my hips.

"No matter what you call them, they are still people," he responded with a frown.

I paused. Dammit, Aaron. He was right, in his own twisted sense. The thought of more people forced under the Hunter's sway hit a particularly sensitive nerve.

With a soft sigh, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a flipbook. With reluctance in my tone, I held it out to him and said, “Here. These are the more recent field notes.” 

Aaron reached out and took it, his eyes scanning the little pages as he flipped through them. “The Hunter is experimenting on people?” he asked.

“With these weird tablets, yeah,” I answered with a nod.

“And these curses…” He murmured, his face scrunching in confusion. He flipped the notebook around and pointed at a poorly drawn doodle of a person with sharp, gnashing teeth. “What does this mean?”

I couldn’t help but snerk at my own artistic talent. “That’s, uh, one of the curses.” That answer didn’t seem to work for Aaron. He still looked helplessly confused, and a little concerned. “It’s called the Hunter’s Hunger. It gives you, like… these cravings, where you just want to, like, bite someone. It’s like mental torture if you try to resist it.”

He frowned and flipped to a new page, taking a moment to study before looking back to me. “Can I keep some of these pages?”

“Yeah, whatever. The curses and stuff are the last four pages,” I said grudgingly. Aaron gave me a grateful smile as he ripped the pages out and handed the flipbook back to me. “Do you really not know anything about what’s going on with the Hunter? Are your people not told anything?”

Aaron’s lips pursed. “Anything we’re not told is to protect us and keep us safe. I trust them.” I let out a sigh at his response. Clearly, they weren’t being kept safe if Stalkers were disappearing, but he had such blind devotion that he’d be willing to sweep anything under the rug. Is that how they all are? Every kid who has an attachment to a Voice? Voices become so infallible that they can do nothing wrong?

“Hello? Someone there?”

Aaron and I both froze as a foreign baritone broke the silence of the night’s gentle ambience. The voice didn’t sound familiar, and judging by Aaron’s reaction, it wasn’t a Lucid or anyone he knew either. It definitely didn’t have that Lucid masked-sound to its tone.

“Come on. I knew I heard ya. Come out, come out,” the voice cooed. 

“Who is-” I began to whisper, but Aaron halted me with a soft shush, his finger pressed against his lips. He turned around and slowly stepped towards the nearby house, pressing his back against the wall. I followed him as he peeked around the corner in order to take a look at the strange fellow for myself, but Aaron stuck out his arm to block me before I could go further. He turned his head and gave me a look of concern. I shot him a nasty look. Aaron really needs to do something about his annoying “save everyone” superhero attitude. With an annoyed sigh, I grabbed his wrist and pushed it down and out of my way. He didn’t try to hold me back again, but from the corner of my eye, I could see his shoulders sulk.

A man that appeared to be in his early twenties walked down the street, looking under cars and behind corners for us. He wore torn up jeans and a loose black t-shirt. I looked a little closer and it looked like a rock band shirt with a colorful, abstract logo, but it wasn’t any band that I knew of. His shoulder-length dirty blond hair was pushed behind both of his ears.

“Greyson Burke,” Aaron whispered, his brows arched in surprise.

“You know him?” I looked up at him with a curious look.

“He was a senior at Central High when I was a freshman,” Aaron answered, his eyes still trained on Greyson. “After graduation, his band started playing at one of the local bars, but they stopped a few months ago. I thought their band split up, or something.”

Greyson was getting closer. I could see a wicked grin stretched across his face, his crazed green eyes still searching for the source of the voices he heard. A few more moments, and he would be upon us.

Aaron turned his body to me. “I’ll distract him. You go home, RK,” he told me. Sounds like a plan. Didn’t have to tell me twice. I was sure Aaron would be fine. He can handle himself. I gave him a nod as he stepped out of our hiding place out onto the street towards Greyson. I turned the other way and started sneaking back to the privacy fence, but I stopped. Curiosity got the better of me. I retracted my steps and peaked around the corner to watch the exchange.

“There you are. I knew I heard someone,” Greyson said with a sick grin. There was something off about his body language. The way he curled his fingers and dug his nails into the side of his pants. The way he would occasionally gnaw at his lower lip, and how he breathed through a partly open mouth. He wasn’t well. There was something wrong with him. He looked… hungry.

“What are you doing here, Greyson?” Aaron answered, his voice tense.

Greyson gave a nonchalant shrug, his tongue darting out of his mouth to wetten his lips. “I was just in the neighborhood. Thought I’d take a stroll, and look for a dance partner, y’know?” He took a step forward, approaching Aaron. “Is that… Is that you, Aaron? Aaron Costa?” He craned his neck forward, squinting his eyes to get a better look. “Damn, boy. You’ve gotten tall!” He threw his head back and laughed, hand holding his stomach. Recomposing himself, he wiped his eye with the back of his hand and took another step forward. “Have you been working out? You look strong. I bet you would make an excellent dance partner.” Aaron stood his ground, not responding as Greyson studied him. When his green eyes landed on the side of Aaron’s face, his grin grew wider. “Nice scar. Want a matching one on the other side?” 

“Why don’t you just go home?” Aaron said, eyes narrowing. You wouldn’t think he was nervous by the tone of his voice, but I could tell he was by how he gently fidgeted with the corner of his jacket between his fingers.

Greyson released a piercing laugh. “What’s wrong? You don’t want to dance?”

“Are you really looking for a fight you can’t win?” Aaron responded with an incredulous look. He had a point. Greyson was a bit gangly, compared to Aaron. Plus, Aaron had height on him. You could easily make the initial impression that Aaron would overpower Greyson in a fight.

“Oh, no. No, no, no. I don’t know about that,” Greyson said with a soft chuckle, running a hand through his hair before shoving both hands into his pockets. “You might be a big bastard. But... I don’t play fair.” In a swift motion, Greyson pulled his hands out of his pockets and lunged at Aaron, his hand gripping a pocket knife. My eyes widened as I caught sight of the weapon, a breath catching in my throat. Aaron had a similar reaction and reacted quickly by grabbing Greyson’s wrist. I heard a growl from Greyson’s throat. “Come on, Aaron. Just a little bite!”

I stood paralyzed as the two struggled with each other. Aaron would still be fine, right? Of course he would win. Anxious thoughts continued to run through my head as the battle waged. Greyson was stronger than he appeared, and Aaron was wearing down. Block after block, dodge after dodge. The pocketknife caught his heavy, white jacket a couple times, ripping into the material that was fortunately thick enough to protect his skin. Maybe Chorus does care after all. Aaron couldn’t manage to get a hold on him to subdue him, and every punch he landed didn’t seem to phase his attacker. There was something unseen fueling him, some hunger.

Greyson shoved Aaron back against a sedan, his body slamming against the metal with a reverberating bang. Aaron grimaced and momentarily lost his footing, but caught himself by grabbing the trunk of the car. “Gah...Shit...” Wow. Aaron actually swears. It would have been funny if this was not a life or death situation. I had seen enough. Panic was settling in, and if I did not do something, Aaron would just turn in to another missing Stalker. I stepped out of my hiding spot and made a bee-line towards them both.

“This was fun. Sorry it’s over already,” Greyson taunted. He reversed the grip on the pocketknife and moved in. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, my feet pounding against the pavement. With a battle yell, I barreled into Greyson, catching him by surprise and knocking us both to the ground. The pocketknife clattered against the concrete out of his reach.

I winced as I fell and twisted my head around to where Greyson landed. On his hands and knees, he shook his head, hair draping over his face. He slowly turned towards me. “RK...RK....RK… There you are. Did you want to play too?” he growled as he stood, his face splitting into a wide smile. I hoped I bought Aaron enough time to recover.

I scrambled to my feet, but before Greyson could change his target, Aaron moved behind him and slipped his arms underneath his armpits, locking his hands behind his neck. Greyson struggled to free himself from the hold, his arms flailing in the air. Aaron twisted his body and threw Greyson against the car, his head smacking into the window and shattering the glass. Greyson fell limp to the pavement, shards falling around him.

I flinched at the sight, but I was distracted by Aaron’s urgent plea. “Leave him.” Together, we ran off away from the street and houses, the blaring car alarm becoming more and more distant the farther we ran. Soon, we were surrounded by trees, only the soft glow of Redacre’s lights visible over the dense foliage.

“I told you to go home,” Aaron said after twisting around to face me. He was in bad shape and struggled to catch his breath.

“Don’t be a fucking idiot, Aaron. You’d be dead if I did,” I retorted, looking at him defiantly.

Guilt flashed across his expression, but he managed a soft smile and held out his hand, extending it towards me. “Thank you for having my back. I hope we can be friends again,” he said to me.

I looked at his hand, lips pursed into a frown. A long moment passed between us before I turned my body. “Be careful on your way home, Aaron,” I gave him those parting words, pulling my hoodie over my head as I walked away.

Never again.