#also i am thinking on your identity puzzle I’m just taking a while (and uh. a bit sidetracked with ny emotional state right now i guess?)

[anadorablekiwi]

*Rolls up sleeves*

*Deep inhale*

❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜 🖤 🤍 🤎❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜 🖤 🤍 🤎❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜 🖤 🤍 🤎❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜 🖤 🤍 🤎❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜 🖤 🤍 🤎❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜 🖤 🤍 🤎❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜 🖤 🤍 🤎❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜 🖤 🤍 🤎❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜 🖤 🤍 🤎❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜 🖤 🤍 🤎❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜 🖤 🤍 🤎❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜 🖤 🤍 🤎❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜 🖤 🤍 🤎❤️ 🧡 💛 💚

I love you I love you I love youuuuuuu!!! (/plat) Thank you for standing up for your needs and letting us know you're having a hard time!

~ 🌲

It's a good thing I'm a West Coaster and a night owl. I get to see the things that people post late at night.

Thank you dear 💜💙💜💙🫂🫂 I love you too /platypus

Reaching out and asking for emotional reassurance/support/love is really hard for me, but its worse when i don’t and just suffer alone. So ive gotten better about it (on tumblr at least)

[neonacity]

LUCID | NCT DREAM ‘00 LINE X READER | CH.4

LUCID DREAMS - A TYPE OF DREAM WHEREIN THE PERSON IS AWARE THAT THEY ARE CAUGHT IN A DREAM WORLD.

Summary: It was supposed to be a harmless, professional transaction. You were to tutor a group of boys, get your pay at the end of the day, and go home to your loving fiance. Kids aren’t supposed to be dangerous, right? So why, then, are you caught up in a web of madness that slowly makes you feel like you’re in a living nightmare?

NOTE:This is a yandere plot featuring NCT Dream ‘00 line which means there will be mature themes in the story as well as obsessive, toxic behavior. If you’re a minor, please refrain from interacting. If this isn’t your thing, then just scroll and skip. In no way am I condoning anything written here— this is not love, this is obsession—nor do I think that any of the people mentioned here will act any way like in this story. This is purely a work of fiction.

Genre: yandere, horror, suspense

TW: abuse, obsessive behavior, toxic relationships, suggestive scenes, stalking, possible kidnapping, mental health. Age gap–though nothing dramatic. Everyone is of legal age. Creepy, creepy, creepy! This will be updated as the story goes along.

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

“Deep into that darkness, peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared dream before”

— Edgar Allan Poe

"Is she going to be okay?"

"Yes. I checked the results of her scans and there seems to be no broken bones. But she did hit her head hard so I would suggest she take a rest for a couple of days."

The voices dipped in and out of your swimming consciousness like broken records. There were words that you caught and tried to grasp, but you couldn't quite make out what they mean while you struggled to emerge from your half asleep state. A searing pain ran down the left side of your head and you winced, before a particularly harsh throbbing there finally sent your eyes flying open.

The first thing you saw were the red velvet drapes hanging from the middle of what looked like the ceiling of a four poster. You frowned at it, not quite understanding what exactly it is you were looking at, when another painful throb on your temple had your hand flying towards it.

You were too focused on trying to grit back the pain that you missed the hurried rustling from beside your bed. When your vision finally focused again, you saw five heads peer at you wearing identical worried expressions.

"Hey. Are you okay?" Taeyong asked softly, concern written all over his face. He raised his hand slowly to reach out to you, but then something snapped deep down in your consciousness that sent you bolting up into a sitting position, your feet scrambling against the mattress until your back hit the headboard. Your eyes jumped from one face to the next, heart thudding harshly against your chest.

Taeyong's expression shifted from that of shock into pain at your reaction. He didn't make any other move, his gaze briefly moving instead to the person standing beside the head of your bed.

"Taeil-hyung…"

You felt a gentle hand rest on your shoulders then. For the first time, you noticed the man in a white jacket leaning towards you. He looked unfamiliar, but there was something about him that calmed you down. He peered closer into you now, brown eyes quickly scanning your features.

"Shh… everything's okay. How are you feeling?"

His soft voice slowed your heartbeat down a little. You tried to give him an answer, wincing at the scratchiness of your throat.

"Who are you?"

"I'm a doctor. Do you know where you are right now?"

Your gaze moved from him, then back to the others who are still standing on the fringes of your bed. Now that you are much calmer, you could finally properly recognize the rest of the group in the room. Taeyong sat closest to you while Haechan and Renjun hovered by the foot of the bed wearing identical frowns. Jaemin stood by the other side, his hand wrapped around Jisung's shoulders loosely. The youngest boy looked on to you, eyes rimmed with red.

You slowly nodded after swallowing the dryness in your mouth.

"The… manor…"

You visibly saw the rest of the group give a collective sigh of relief. Taeil moved to sit beside you and gently moved your face to him to quickly check your eyes with his pen light.

"She's still a little bit confused from the fall. She does look okay though," he said and you figured he was talking to the others instead of you. You frowned as you felt him take your wrist to check your pulse.

"I… fell?"

His brown eyes glanced at you briefly.

"You did. You don't remember anything?"

Before you could even respond, you heard Taeyong gently speak from your side.

"You fell on a ravine. We heard Jisung crying when we came back and came looking for you guys as fast as we could. You were unconscious when we found you…"

You let his words sink in slowly. Little by little, your memories came slipping back like little puzzle pieces that arranged themselves slowly in the back of your mind.

You remember Chenle's screams, you running into the forest, and then the feeling of falling into nothingness. Your hands balled over the blanket covering you as your head throbbed again.

"I'm so sorry, noona," your attention moved to Jisung who leaned just a little bit closer to you. He looked like he had been crying. "Chenle and I took our playing too far. We didn't think that this would happen…" he trailed off and you saw Jaemin try to soothe him by rubbing his arm.

"Where's Chenle…? Is he alright?" You asked, remembering that the boy was calling for help before your own accident.

"Yes. He's still unconscious from the anesthesia. He broke his leg from his fall but we were able to rush him to the clinic with you," Taeyong answered again.

"Is your head hurting? We had to make a couple of stitches on you, but your scans turned out fine," the doctor, who you figured out is named Taeil, asked again. Your hand raised once more to the side of your head and noticed the bandages there for the first time. One side of your skull alternated from throbbing dully to stinging sharply.

"Um...it hurts a little bit."

Taeil simply nodded and grabbed his pen to write something on the file he was holding. "That's normal. I thought you would have some short-term memory loss so it's good that you're only dealing with pain. I'll prescribe you painkillers for it."

You listened silently to what he was saying, only half understanding the context of his words. You still felt confused… like there was something you are missing.

As if he read your mind, Taeil glanced up at you again.

"Feeling confused is normal since you hit your head. You should also expect some intense headaches for a couple of weeks, maybe even some mild hallucinations. We'll try to control that with the medicine I'll give you but we're not sure how your body will react to them so just prepare yourself for the possibility, okay?"

You numbly nodded as you watched him finish scribbling something on a smaller piece of paper.

"Other than that, you don't need to be admitted to the hospital. But feel free to come back when you don't feel better after two weeks. You do have someone at home to watch over you, right?"

That made you stop, remembering that you would be alone for a couple of days. Taeil patiently waited for your answer, hand still hovering over his files.

"I… uh… I'm alone for three days but my boyfriend will be back after that…'' you finally managed to say. He frowned slightly at your answer.

"You don't have any relatives who can watch over you?"

You shook your head.

"You can stay here with us," you heard someone say and you looked over to Renjun who was still watching you with a worried expression on his face. "At least until you have someone with you at home."

The rest of the group seemed to have been taken by surprise by his suggestion as much as you were. The boy simply looked at his brothers in answer, however, a frown settling between his brows.

"It's the least we could do, right? Technically, it is our fault. And she got in an accident while at work. We can't just leave her on her own."

Taeil looked from the group, then at you. "That's not a bad idea… you do need to be under observation at least for a couple of days."

You honestly didn't know what to answer. Something told you to say no to the offer, but another part of you simply didn't have the energy to argue with the proposition. Before you could even give a reply, Jisung untangled himself from Jaemin to hold your hand. When you looked at him, he seemed on the verge of tears again.

"Please, noona? Can I make it up to you?"

You watched him, torn by the expression on his face. Finally, you gave a sigh.

"Okay… but I do need to tell my boyfriend that I'll stay over. And I don't really have anything with me…"

"You can borrow our mom's wardrobe. I think you are about the same size," Haechan offered. "Then we can just buy your other things."

You didn't know what to feel about that but nodded at the suggestion, at least for now. With the decision finalized, Taeil finally turned to Taeyong and handed him the paper he had been writing on.

"Here’s her prescription then. I have bottles of the painkillers with me but you might need to drive back to town for the sleeping pills," he said as he turned towards the older boy. "She might need it in case she gets trouble sleeping."

Taeyong nodded as his eyes quickly scanned the paper handed over to him. "About Chenle, do I also need to get him something?"

"We can talk about that separately. How about we go check him now? He must be up around this time, too."

The older boy threw you a glance and a parting apologetic smile before following Taeil who had already picked up his bag and started heading towards the door. Beside you, Jisung quickly let go of your hand to follow the doctor.

"Taeyong-hyung, I'll go with you. Noona, I'll be back later."

You watched silently as the group left and closed the door softly behind them. You still felt a little out of it that you didn't really give notice to the three boys left inside your room until you felt your mattress dip a little. A finger to your chin broke you from your reverie, and when you turned to your side, you saw Jaemin peering at you closely.

"Does it still hurt, noona?"

You blinked at his closeness, but you still felt too weak to even panic or move away. So instead, you simply nodded, goosebumps rising on your flesh as he moved to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

"I'm sorry… now your pretty face is all scratched up, too. I don't think they'll leave marks though… so we don't have to worry about that, hmm…?" His eyes roamed your features slowly and deliberately. You swallowed and finally moved away for a bit.

"Do you remember what happened? Did you slip?"

Renjun's question was the distraction you were looking for. Turning to him, you gave yourself some time to process an answer,  slowly shifting through the memories that were still painful and hazy for you to fully grasp. Still, you tried to recall what you could manage, your confusion only growing as you shifted through the bits and pieces of what you could remember.

There were a few things that didn't make sense to you and a few that you were also sure to be true, the most glaring one being the impossibility of you slipping down that cliff. No, you didn’t lose your footing. 

You were pushed. 

"No… I didn't. Something… something hit me," you finally managed to mumble. The three boys looked at each other, mild confusion in their expressions.

"Hit you? Like an animal?" Haechan asked with a concerned tone. You slightly shook your head as you thought over that possibility as well.

The thing is… you were sure there were no other people in the woods because everyone was accounted for when the accident happened. Taeyong and the kids weren't back yet from their trip and you were sure Jisung and Chenle were in another part of the forest since you heard them call out to you. Jeno is the only one left… but the chances of him being in the woods with you were also slim because of his injury. So that only leaves two possibilities—one, being a wild animal as the culprit behind your fall, or two, that someone else who isn't part of Rosewood manor was there with you in the woods.

Personally, you desperately wanted the first one to be true, but a gnawing feeling inside of you told you no. Your head might still feel a little hazy, but there's one thing you can be sure of.

The force that sent you hurtling down the cliff? That was no animal.

They were human hands.

"Might be… an animal," you whispered more to yourself than to address the boys in the room after a while. You didn't know what pushed you to lie through your teeth, but your gut feeling told you it is the right thing to do at the moment.

Haechan, Jaemin, and Renjun exchanged worried glances amongst themselves, obviously not buying what you just said. Fortunately, they didn't seem to push it for now.

"Well...we'll leave you alone tonight so you can rest. Haechan and I will try to look for clothes that could fit you so you can get changed. If you need anything, you can just press 0 on that intercom. It connects you to Taeyong-hyung," Renjun explained gently and pointed towards a small machine on the wall beside your bed. You nodded and gathered the blankets closer to you.

"We'll go now. Rest well, noona," Haechan said as he turned towards the door. Renjun followed after giving you another apologetic smile.

You waited for Jaemin to finally pick himself up from your bed as well before allowing yourself to relax. Silently, you moved your gaze towards him, only to be met by his smile. It was strange… how even though he looked so kind and gentle, the way he stared at you still sent chills running down your spine.

"Don't worry. We'll make it up to you. We'll take care of you really well…"

----- "I can drive back tonight and pick you up early tomorrow," Jaehyun said over the phone, his voice barely concealing his worry and agitation. You gnawed on your lower lip as you stared at the view outside of your room, the night sky looking foreboding without any presence of stars. You have managed to prop yourself up against the seat in front of your window out of your sheer desperation to temporarily escape the bed. It is quite ironic, maybe even strange, how you feel claustrophobic inside despite the expansive space of your quarters.

"It's fine, Jae. I'm doing much better now," you finally managed to say as you forced yourself to look away from the view of the forest beyond. Just looking at it gave you chills even though you know you should feel safe in the confines of the manor now.

"Baby, you have stitches on your head," Jaehyun tried to say that evenly, though you know just how much he is panicking right now. For a stranger, your fiance can easily pass off as unbothered and calm most of the time, but you know him enough to read him like an open book. To be honest though... you can't really blame him for how he is reacting right now.

"Yes, but I'm feeling fine now. I don't really want you to drive back this late…and besides, your workshop just started. It's only for three days anyway,” you tried to reason out, though another part of you desperately wants him by your side at the moment. You tried your best to fight it off, however, knowing how important this business trip is for him. “I think it’s okay if I stay here temporarily while I wait for you,” you added, trying your best to sound convincing. 

Jaehyun was silent at the other end of the line and you patiently waited for him to speak again, knowing full well that he is just looking for another possible compromise to the situation. Finally, he sighed. 

"Are you sure you are safe there though?" He asked quietly after a while. His question made you stop for a little bit, your eyes moving towards the view of the woods from your window again.

"...yes. I have a very private room right now so I can rest well," you answered as you tore your eyes away from it and forced yourself to look at the interiors of your quarters instead. Studying it now, it looks a lot like the layout of Jeno's room so you figured you must be in the same hallway.

"That's not what I mean," Jaehyun said, and you already know what he is going to say next. "What I mean is, are you sure you can trust the people there?"

It took you a few seconds to answer that. You would be lying to yourself if you say you don't feel strange and jumpy right now, but at the same time, you also feel a little guilty for harboring such emotions when the family was nice enough to offer you temporary space and care. Sure, your accident still remains a mystery, but it’s not like you can assume that anyone wanted it to happen, especially since Chenle also ended up injured. It’s because of that reason that you simply swallowed back your nerves, chalking up your odd feelings as after effects for your fall.  

"Yes, of course. They haven't really bothered me that much. I don't think we should worry about it…"

Jaehyun's silence said that he wasn't entirely convinced. It took a moment for him to finally give a resigned gust of breath.

"Fine. Keep yourself safe, okay? I will call you back again tomorrow morning. Make sure you rest tonight."

"Okay...Don't worry about me too much," you said, smiling even though you know he couldn’t see you right now.

"I will still try and see if I can cut my trip shorter, alright?"

You chuckled. There it is, the compromise.

"Okay…"

"I love you. Stay safe."

"I will… Love you too."

"Oh, and honey?" You were about to cut the call when his voice stopped you again. You pressed the phone closer to your ear once more, waiting for his last words.

"Lock the door."

Your eyes flew towards the dark oak door at the other end of the room at his words.

"Okay, I will. Goodnight, baby."

You let out a tired sigh when you finally finished the call. Maybe Jaehyun was right… Maybe it wouldn't hurt if he could cut his trip and go home earlier than planned. For now though, you don't have any other choice but at least spend the first night here to recover a little more. Your wound has honestly started stinging again, maybe because the effect of the first painkillers are finally starting to wear off.

You gave one long look around your quarters before throwing your phone on the wide four poster bed. When your gaze landed on the door once more, you heard Jaehyun's reminder echoing in your mind again.

Slowly, you walked towards it, feet padding over the lush rug that covered the whole floor of the room. You noticed that there was a double lock system installed on it at least—a knob one, and a bolt-type that can be maneuvered from the inside. You gave an internal sigh of relief when you took notice of the latter, knowing that you have at least a level of protection even from those who have keys to the house. You have started to reach out to fix both locks when the door swung open all of a sudden, causing you to stumble back a little in shock.

Haechan looked back at you with the same look of surprise on his face at the threshold. For a while the two of you just stood there, staring at each other.

"Ah, I'm sorry, noona. I forgot to knock. I'm not really used to having guests here," he smiled sheepishly as he scratched the back of his head. His apologetic chuckles finally made you unfreeze from your spot.

"Tha-that's fine. I was just surprised. Why… are you here?"

"Oh, I just have to give you this," he extended his hands over to you, and for the first time, you noticed the folded garment that he was holding. You gingerly took it, feeling the softness of silk brushing your fingers.

"Renjun and I tried to look for an old night gown of our mom's that would fit you. It is a little bit old fashioned but it's clean and still holds up together so I think that would work, at least for now."

At his words, you took a closer look at the dress on your hands before unfurling it to its full length. He was right, it does look a little dated with its long sleeves, laced collar, and embroidered hem that would probably fall mid-leg on you, but the size looks just enough for your frame. You looked up at Haechan again with a smile.

"Thank you. I think this will work… But, are you sure it is okay for me to borrow it?" You asked hesitantly, eyes falling briefly again on the dress. After all, you do know the story behind their parents, and there are some people who can get a little sensitive about the possessions of their passed on loved ones. The least you could do is to bring up the question. 

Haechan, however, looked the least bit bothered. You didn't catch it because you were studying the lacework on one of the cuffs under the light, but one end of his lips curled up into a smirk as his hooded gaze moved to study the dress on your hands before grazing your form from head to toe.

"No. We don't mind. It's the only female clothing that we can offer for now, unless you want to borrow one of our clothes~?"

That immediately made your eyes snap back to him. His words were innocent, but the way his voice curled made your cheeks feel hot all of a sudden.

"No, that's not what I meant—"

The embarrassment on your face must have looked too obvious because the boy suddenly burst out laughing, his giggles sounding like a lilting tune as it floated down the hallway. You've always noticed how beautiful his voice is, but it is only now that you realized how calming it is to the ears, despite your current flustered state.

"Yah, I'm kidding, noona. I was just trying to make you feel better," he said after his laughter calmed down. You tried to give him an apologetic smile and looked down on the dress in your hands, your fingers unconsciously finding comfort from the smoothness of the silk. Haechan drank your expression silently with his eyes in the brief moment that you were distracted. You have always had this independent and confident air around you normally, but you have a more subdued nature now, probably because you are hurt.

He studied you silently as a thought formed in his mind. He may like the way you carry yourself on an everyday basis, but the way you are now? 

He loves it. 

"Besides… I think you'll look pretty on it," he said softly, voice sounding like whispers on skin. You looked up to see him smiling at you fondly, as if he is remembering a distant memory.

You cleared your throat before nodding. "Thank you. I'll change to this tonight. Please say thanks to Renjun as well."

Haechan gave you his signature smile and clasped his hands behind his back.

"No problem. We'll check on you tomorrow again. Goodnight, noona."

You were about to close the door when you suddenly stopped halfway as you remembered something.

"Oh, sorry. Another thing."

The boy turned back to you to give you a questioning look. You smiled at him apologetically.

"Can I ask to have some of my medications? I don't know who has it but I think Taeyong was handed my prescription. It's just that, my head is hurting again so I’d like to take some before going to sleep…"

Haechan's brows raised slightly at the realization.

"Oh, Taeyong-hyung hasn't visited you yet then? Ah… I think it's because he is still busy with Chenle. I can get them for you, noona."

"Will that be okay? Really sorry for asking this."

"Stop apologizing, it's fine," he winked and you managed to return it with a grateful smile. "I'll look for Taeyong-hyung and bring you your meds. Maybe you can get changed for now."

"Thank you, Haechan."

"I'll be back," he nodded before turning on his heels again, a spring on his step. 

------- "Shhh… sweetie, don't cry. You know I don't like it when you do that, right?"

A woman bent over a boy not older than seven who was currently cowering against the shadowed corner of the room. The space didn't have any lights on, but the sliver of moonlight that passed between the small crack of curtains shone on the tear-streaked face of the child. The female in front of him gently reached out for his face, cradling his cheeks lovingly between long, slender fingers.

"Look at you, you look like a mess now… stop crying, okay?" Her voice was soft and angelic when she spoke, enough to calm down the sobs wrecking the thin frame of the child before her. The boy gave a small nod which made her smile, her dainty features glowing with happiness.

"Very good. Now… you do know we have to go through this, right? You've been a bad boy so you leave me with no other choice."

The child froze in fear but softened his stance after a few heartbeats. He mumbled softly, trying his best to keep his voice from breaking.

"Yes… mother."

The woman's expression remained somber, as if she was in pain. She gently moved her hand to run her thumb over the boy's cheek, wetting her sharp fingernail with his tears.

"You do know that even if it will hurt, mother still loves you a lot, right? Mama is doing this because she cares for you a lot and she wants you to be good... my sunshine... my precious, precious boy…"

Her soothing voice mixed with her words made the boy stop crying entirely. Instead, his eyes shone with pure adoration for her.

"Yes, mama… I know that."

The lady smiled. Her eyes scanned the features of the child momentarily before finally letting her hand holding his face drop to her side. Slowly, she straightened up again to her full height, but not before grabbing for something from the floor beside her. The moonlight caught it before it got swallowed by the darkness of the room again—a leather belt so thin it almost looks like a whip.

The woman raised her hand gracefully above her head before giving one last loving smile at the boy on the floor.

"Now, try not to scream too much… we don't want to hurt your voice."

---- Haechan softly hummed a happy tune as he walked through the wing of the house where their private quarters are. It was late at night and the rest of his brothers had retreated back into their own rooms despite all the excitement that  happened in the past few hours. His gaze touched each door as he passed them, a smile curling the tips of his lips as he did.

There are a few things that Haechan believes sets him apart from the rest of his family. He isn't as physically strong as Jeno, as charismatic as Jaemin, or as patient and quiet as Renjun. He isn't as friendly and likable as Mark, nor is he also as innocent and magnetic as Jisung and Chenle.

What Haechan is, however...is smart and cunning…

He is smart enough to always be two steps ahead of everyone and cunning enough to move the pieces that he set without having to lift a finger if he wanted to. There is a subtleness in him that doesn't make red flags flash in someone’s head unlike Jaemin does whenever he can't control his neediness, but he has enough pull to get under someone's skin if he wanted to unlike Renjun who prefers the quiet and watchful approach. Oh and Jeno? He knows how to use Jeno's strength well.

He knows it enough to suggest to his brother to give a little friendly push to the right direction—or rather, to the right cliff—so the wheel can finally move. Sure, it might hurt someone, maybe even break a bone or two, but that's normal. After all, when you love, you should be willing to hurt a little.

His hums died when he finally stopped at the last room down the hallway, mind trying to picture what's on the other side. His gaze quickly glanced at the small tray in his hands carrying a small glass of water and a variety of pills that gleamed under the dim lighting. He smiled. Finally, he raised his hand to gently tap on the oak door in front of him.

"Noona, can I come in? I have your medicine with me."

He heard a soft rustling from the other side before the door finally opened. Silently, Haechan took a calming breath and tried his best to look casual at the vision that welcomed him. Of course he was right. The dress looked perfect on her, almost as if she was the original owner of it. She looked like she stepped out from a dream… his dreams.

Oh and what he would do to keep her there.

He gave her a friendly smile now as he pushed the tray to her hands. She returned it with a grateful look before studying the oddly matched colors of pills there silently. They shone dully under the dim lighting of the hallway, as if officially warning the start of something.

Yes, Haechan believes that there are a few things that starkly sets him apart from the rest of his brothers. But if he were to choose one, he would say he is ruthless. Ruthless enough to drag someone down a little, all the while wearing that sunny smile on his face.

After all, a little nightmare won't hurt anyone.

"Don't forget to take them so you can feel better, okay noona?"

---

CHAPTER 5

A/N: Okaaay so the core four have finally been covered. Guess it’s time to ask now who is the scariest? JK. Taglist below! 

@negincho,  @jhornytrash, @jaeminhyuckiii, @jungwoosswhore, @jsturkey, @aj–7, @pukupukupawpau, @tomiesgirlfren, @vsszn, @those-winternights​, ---

[extasiswings]

Get in, clowns.  We’re going to the circus.  On ao3.

Eddie’s palms are sweaty.

It’s warm outside, the sun beating down on the park bench where he’s sitting, but it’s the nerves that have his hands clammy as he turns his water bottle over between them.  

When Buck had walked in the house earlier, he’d taken one look at Eddie and rolled his eyes before shoving him back into his bedroom.

“You can’t wear that,” Buck said, rifling through Eddie’s dresser.  He emerged with Eddie’s tightest pair of jeans and shoved them at his chest before turning to the drawers with shirts.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Eddie asked, baffled as he looked down at himself and then, skeptically, at the jeans.

“You look like a dad.”  Buck’s voice went muffled for a moment before he made a noise of victory and pulled out a deep red, long-sleeved shirt that Eddie’s pretty sure is at least a size too small. 

“Kind of hard not to.  Since I am one and all.  That’s not exactly a secret.”

“Yeah, but you can look like a hot dad who is making an effort instead of a regular dad going to the grocery store or something.  You’ll thank me later.”  

After Eddie had changed and walked out of the bathroom, Buck’s face shifted—Eddie could have sworn his eyes darkened, that his voice was rougher as he pronounced Eddie much better.

So Eddie knows he looks good.

But his palms are still sweaty.  He uncaps the water bottle and takes a sip more to have something to do than because he needs it.  And then he starts drumming his fingers against his thigh, needing something to occupy them, some way to move.  

He’s tempted to pull out his phone, to reread the latest texts from Bobby or even the shameless teasing in the group text that Buck started with his sisters—and boy, was that a mistake, putting the three of them in touch, because Eddie never in a million years would have told them he was going on a date if he hadn’t done it by accident because Buck’s direct messages happened to be right below the group—

He’s still not sure he should be, is the thing.  Dating.  He still feels like he can’t quite breathe right when he thinks too hard about it.  Can still play that last dinner with Shannon over on loop, from her asking for a divorce to the implication that really being with him again would be so terrible she would have to run for the hills and leave their child behind.

He didn’t exactly have great self-esteem to begin with.

Eddie wipes his palms on his jeans—he’s in the middle of debating whether it’s bad parenting to make up an emergency involving your kid to get out of a date, when—

“Eddie!  Hi,” Ana greets, walking up the path.  

The anxiety in his chest twists tighter as he gets up from the bench and waves.

“Hey.  You, uh—you look really nice,” he says, because it’s true and also the easiest thing he can remember from the last time he did this.  

Ana smiles.  “So do you.”

There’s a pause that lingers a little too long and then they both start trying to speak at once, cutting off abruptly when they realize.  Eddie rubs self-consciously at the back of his neck.

“Should we walk?” Ana offers, nodding down the path where it leads into the trees.

“Sure, yeah,” Eddie agrees.  

It’s actually not...bad.  She asks him about work and that’s a safe enough topic that he’s comfortable spending a few minutes telling her stories from the station.  She shares a little about the challenges of virtual teaching.  And then she asks about Chris, and, well, that’s an easy subject—Eddie could talk about Chris all day.  

He just finishes the story about the actual building of Christopher’s skateboard—which involved no small amount of comical trial and error on the part of two decidedly not Chris-sized grown men—when Ana gets a thoughtful look on her face and glances sideways at him.

“Can I ask you something personal?”  She asks.

Eddie rocks back on his heels and hooks his thumbs in his pockets.  “Sure.”

“How long has it been for you?”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up.  “Since...the last time I dated?”

Ana nods.

“Well…” He wets his lips to stall.  “The last person I dated was my wife.  And I’m not sure it was really dating in the same way after we were married so...I guess...eleven years give or take?”

He laughs and he can hear the edge of self-deprecation.  “That obvious I’m out of practice?”

“No,” Ana says.  “No, that wasn’t—it’s really not actually. Although it does explain some things.”

“Things?”

She bites her lip.  “Nothing bad,” she insists.  “Just—”

“Have you ever been on a date where the other person talked about their ex the whole time and it was kind of obvious they still had feelings for them and you couldn’t help wondering why they weren’t with the ex when they clearly wanted to be?”  She asks.

Eddie blinks, scrolling back through their conversation trying to think—he’s pretty sure he hasn’t mentioned Shannon except for the once.  And he’s not still—

“In high school, maybe?” He answers.  “But I’m not sure—”

“I was trying to figure out if you and Buck ever dated,” she clarifies, and Eddie stops in his tracks, his mind shorting out as he takes that in.

“I—what?”

They’re back at the parking lot anyway, and although they could take another loop around the park, Ana stops by the closest bench and smiles as she leans against it.

“Look, I like you, Eddie,” she says.  “And if I’m totally off base and you want to see me again, I will definitely pick up the phone.  But if I’m not?  I couldn’t not say something.”

“Buck’s my best friend,” Eddie replies.  His head is swimming but it surprisingly doesn’t feel bad.  More like he’s been handed the clue card for a puzzle he was trying to solve and while the pieces haven’t quite come together fully, they’re getting there.

“You talk about him like he’s your partner.  Like the three of you are a family.  And when you talk about him you look like…”  Ana shakes her head and laughs, but it’s not unkind.  Just soft and maybe a little longing.  “I would love for someone to look like that when they’re talking about me.  Thinking about me.  So, I thought you should know.  Just in case you didn’t.”

Another puzzle piece falls into place and Eddie sucks in a breath.

“I do like you,” he says.

“Yeah...but you’re in love with him.  Right?”  Eddie’s quiet and Ana nods.

“I’m gonna go,” she decides.  “This was nice, for the record.  Maybe we can do it again.  As friends next time.”

“Ana—” Eddie calls after her.  When she looks back over her shoulder though, he’s not sure what to say except, “...thank you.”

“Let me know how it works out?” She asks.  “I’m a little invested now.”

Eddie laughs and runs a hand through his hair.  “Yeah...sure.”  

He drives home in a daze, so much of the past two years—maybe even longer—suddenly thrown into new light.  Everything he’s been afraid of, everything that’s been holding him back—all of the baggage and insecurities that Shannon left behind, that have made him feel like he’s not good enough, like he can’t be a partner to anyone—

He never stopped and looked too hard at what he already had.  What he was already doing.

What he has.  What he is doing.   

With Buck.

In the stark glare of hindsight, it’s easy to see—he was still married when they met, was worn down and bruised and not looking for anything.  He needed a friend and Buck slipped in to fill that void and Eddie...put him in a box.  Put them in a box.  Carefully compartmentalizing every aspect of his life because it was easier that way, because it allowed him to sort through the tangled knots of expectation from any number of other sides, any number of other identities—husband, father, son.

There was no baggage attached to friend.  No forgive and forget and take your wife back because kids need their mothers or you’ll drag him down with you or I wasn’t enough.

There was just...Buck.  Present.  Supportive.  Caring about him.  Believing in him.   The real him—masks off, walls down, warts and all.   

The longer Eddie thinks, the clearer things become.  His mind flips through memories like a scrapbook—panic attacks and phone calls at two in the morning, nights on the couch playing video games with Christopher and the slower, lingering moments with just the two of them after they put him to bed, all those months sharing a bed in Buck’s apartment while he despaired over being away from his son and Buck reminded him he was a good dad—

How many of those nights had Eddie wanted to kiss him?  How many times had he felt that buzz under his skin, the whisper of it would be so easy, only to shove it down because it was too dangerous to deal with.  

And when he thinks now about the future, about having someone in his home, in his bed, in his life, when he pictures it, all he can see is Buck.

It feels right.

“I love him,” Eddie says out loud, tasting the words on his tongue, letting them linger.

I love him.

His pulse spikes with his anxiety, but it calms down as he sits with it.  Because he knows Buck’s not going to leave.  He trusts that.  Buck’s seen him at his worst and none of that has ever driven him away.  So maybe…

Eddie’s mind flicks back to earlier in the day, to the dark heat in Buck’s gaze as it dragged over him before he looked away.

...yeah.  They’ll be okay.

He’s home before he even really registers and takes a few slow breaths before he shuts off the truck and gets out.  When he steps through the door, it’s a strange feeling.  The space is familiar but not.  More...settled somehow.  Home.

Home.

Eddie closes the door behind him and follows the sound of running water to the kitchen.  He stops in the doorway, leaning against the frame, and spends a moment just watching Buck scrub potatoes in the sink until the other man glances up and notices him.

“Hey,” Buck greets.  “Chris is reading in his room, I’m just working on dinner.  How was the date?”

God, I love you, Eddie thinks, and nearly has to bite his tongue to keep it to himself.

Yeah.  It’s right.

He shrugs.  “It was fine.  Ana’s nice.”

“When’s the next date then?”  There’s an odd note in Buck’s voice that makes Eddie push off the frame and step closer. 

“There’s not going to be one,” he replies.  “Ana’s nice...but I don’t want to date her.”

Buck stops.  Shuts off the water and turns, leaning back against the sink.

“No?”  Buck’s brow furrows.  “It’s not—do you still feel like you’re not ready?”

“No, it’s not that,” Eddie replies.  “I do think I’m ready.  But with the right person.”

His heart is pounding in his chest, but it’s not fear.  More...anticipation.  

He swallows hard.

“Ana said something that made me realize that...I don’t want to start from scratch with some stranger.”

Eddie takes another step closer and Buck inhales sharply, emotions shifting across his face too quickly for Eddie to name them all.

“Eddie…”  Buck sounds hoarse, a little disbelieving.  He leans forward for a moment before shaking his head, clearing his throat.

“I can’t—I need you to be specific,” he says.  “Because I can’t make assumptions here, I can’t—”

Eddie kisses him.  Steps in far enough that Buck’s body presses flush against his, slides his hand around the back of Buck’s neck, and kisses him.  Buck makes a small noise and grips him right back, his hands curving around Eddie’s hips nearly tight enough to bruise in sharp contrast to the way Eddie’s mouth feathers against his, soft as anything.  

“Specific enough?”  Eddie breathes, staying close enough that their lips brush again.  Buck surges up and uses his grip on Eddie’s hips to turn them, pinning Eddie against the counter as he kisses him again in response.  Once, twice, three times, and Eddie shivers.  

He hasn’t been kissed in so long, hasn’t been touched with intention like this—he’d forgotten what it felt like.  His body floods with heat as Buck’s hands slip under his shirt, spreading wide over his rib cage, and he parts his lips eagerly for Buck’s tongue.

Down the hall, a door closes, and Buck jumps back, Eddie slumping against the counter to keep himself upright.  Buck is flushed and panting and Eddie’s pretty sure he can’t look much better, too warm and electric, wanting, wanting, wanting—

Both of them catch their breath and watch the door, but Christopher doesn’t appear.  After a minute Eddie catches the faint sound of a toilet flushing and he looks back at Buck.  

And he laughs.  It bubbles up from his chest like champagne fizz, bright and warm and right, and apparently it’s contagious because Buck starts up as well, stepping in again and sliding his arms around Eddie’s waist, ducking his head to laugh breathlessly against Eddie’s neck.

When they calm down, Buck stays close, his lips feathering over Eddie’s pulse.  Eddie hums and closes his eyes as he tips his head back to give Buck better access.  

“I’m in love with you,” he says.  “In case that wasn’t clear.”

Buck’s lips curve up against Eddie’s skin.

“Well that’s convenient,” he replies.  “Since Chris was asking me earlier why you couldn’t just date me if you were going to date again.”

Eddie’s startled into another laugh.  “Really?”

“Really.”

Eddie grins and opens his eyes again.  “Hey Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“Go out with me?”

Buck snorts and pushes him out of the way so he can go back to the potatoes.  

“Help me finish getting dinner together and we’ll see.”  But the second Eddie turns away, Buck snags him by a belt loop and reels him back in for another kiss.

“Yes,” Buck says.  “Yes.”

And it’s right.           

[supercorpkid]

Hey! First of all want to say how much I love your writing! I always love reading your work it's amazing! Just a suggestion but I could just imagine that maybe there's a day where Maya is just off and having a bad day (maybe because of her parents) but Superkid thinks that's it's her or she did something. So she tries to do all these nice things for Maya to cheer her up. And when Maya asks why she's doing all these nice things, Superkid just stumbles over her words saying she didn't know if she upset her or anything and tried to make things better. Maya just gushes how good a gf she is and fluff ensues. Feel free to ignore this if it's terrible.

It is absolutely not terrible and I am aware it took me forever to write this, and for that I apologize, but here it is anyway, and I hope you still enjoy it! 💙❤️

Food is a love language.

Word count: 1185.

Maya walks in class a little later than usual. You and Jamie are already seated in the same place as you always do, when she rushes to her seat, passing through both of you with a ‘hey, good morning’. Jamie raises her eyebrows at you, like she’s asking what’s up.

Usually on ‘normal’ days, Maya would have stopped by, asked how both of you were and then kissed you good morning. Today she did none.

“Babe, you cool?” You ask, looking back at her and you get nothing but an agreeable nod while she looks inside her backpack.

“What did you do?” Jamie asks you, and you shrug your response.

“Babe? Did I-Well-Did I do something?” You ask her and she raises an eyebrow at you.

“I don’t know, did you?” She sighs, throwing herself back into her chair, the moment your teacher walks in. You turn to the front, thinking about it. Did you?

Honestly, you can’t remember. Sure, you disappeared for a week, but you two talked about that and you explained everything, so she didn’t seem to be upset about that at all. Sure, you also have been lying to her about your secret identity, but there’s no way she found out about that. Especially not now that you literally decided that Superkid is not even a thing anymore. So what else could you have possibly done?

You look at Jamie, who shrugs next to you. Maybe Jamie did something. No, that’s probably far from true.

Ok, so your girlfriend is clearly - you glance back at her - mad at something. Breathing so hard, you don’t even need super hearing for that. Even the way she is holding her pen is terrifying. If you were holding your pen like that, you would’ve certainly broken it into half. Maybe it is your fault or maybe this has nothing to do with you.

You have two options. You either deal with it the mature way: ask her what’s wrong, offer her your apologies or advice, and try not to add into it. OR -and let’s be honest you know yourself damn well to know you won’t deal with it maturely- you do everything in your power to break down her walls and make her feel better without actually addressing the problem. Yes. You’re definitely going with the latest option.

You: How busy are you right now?

Momma: Well, I am working. Why?

You: Can you buy a heart-shaped chocolate box and leave it in my locker, and I’ll explain to you later?

Momma: Maya’s mad?

You: Yeah ☹️

Momma: How about chocolate strawberries?

You: You would be my favorite adult if you did that.

The class isn’t even over yet, when you look at the little window on the door and you see Kara there with a big smile and thumbs up. You also give her a thumbs up and soon feel your phone buzzing with a message.

Momma: Tell your mom I’m your favorite adult. ❤️💙

On the lunch break you run to your locker and find the ‘when you mess up and have to make up kit’ (or at least that’s what is written on the card that Kara left). You pick the strawberries and leave the rest for later.

“Hey, uh, I thought you would like these?” You show her the food and a small smile comes to her lips.

“Where did you get those? You were gone for two minutes.” Maya asks, while you sit next to her and kiss her cheek.

“It’s a secret.” You answer, making Jamie raise an eyebrow at you, thinking you’ve used your powers for that. “But it starts with Ka, and ends with Ra.”

“You made Mrs. Danvers buy me strawberries?” Maya asks, shocked. But she is already eating them, regardless.

“I didn’t make her. Pfff. You can’t make Kara do anything that she doesn’t want to.” You smile at her. “Unless you say ‘please? For me?’. Then she’ll do basically anything.”

“Um, that only works with you. I tried that once and she said, ‘go ask your mom’, so-” Jamie adds, and Maya finally laughs a little. Which makes you finally breathe.

You put your arm around her. She gets stiff at first, and you’re almost moving it, when she rests her head on your shoulder and Jamie gives you a thumbs up from across the table.

“Do you want to do something after class?” You ask her and her answer comes before you even close your mouth.

“Yes!”

“Ok, cool. We could go to the movies, or to the park?” You suggest.

“Or you two could come to my place and watch me clean my room for a while and then we could play video games?” You only laugh Jamie’s suggestion away, getting a huff sound from her end.

“Going to the movies sounds fun.” It’s Maya’s answer.

So you decide not to go to L Corp, and instead, take a bus with Maya to the mall. You buy popcorn, sweets, soft drinks, and no matter how much she says that you don’t have to, you still pay for everything, including her movie ticket.

It’s almost night when you take her to the food court to eat something, and she grabs your hand before you disappear to buy everything you can think of.

“I’m not hungry, babe. We had so much popcorn.”

“Right, yeah. I’ll just buy a little something.”

But when you’re back you basically bought a little of everything. She smiles fondly at you from the other side of the table.

“Can I ask you something?” She asks, and you agree with your head, because your mouth is full of nachos. “Why are you doing this?” You give her a puzzling look, so she adds. “Buying me all this food?”

“Oh.” You finish chewing. “I guess in my house food is a love language.”

She glances down at the absurd amount of food between you two, with a bigger smile. “I see that. What I don’t understand is why you’re, um, showing me all this love.”

“Well, because one: I love you.” You get another loving smile from her. “And two: you seemed upset today. I don’t know if I made something to upset you, so I was trying to make you feel better.”

“Babe.” Maya reaches for your hand, and you hold her hand on top of the table. “It’s not you, I just had a fight with my mom.” She looks sad, remembering about it. “But I appreciate you doing all of the things you did to distract me.”

“Did it work?” You try with a little smile.

“Perfectly.”

You are glad it wasn’t anything that you did, but you’re also sad it has something to do with her mother, because things will probably go back to sucking once she gets home. You make a mental note to use the rest of Kara’s ‘when you mess up and have to make up kit’ as soon as Maya walks in the school the next day. Oh, and maybe buy less food because she definitely doesn’t eat that much.

[silkling]

Hi Silkling, could you please write a TFP story where Sierra discovers the Autobot's secret and joins up with Team Prime? TFP never really did much with her, and I think that a shame. I think Smokescreen would make a good partner for her.

Absolutely! Great to see you again in my ask box! :D your last prompt was super fun to write to, so I’m looking forward to this one! Now, I admit, I never paid much attention to Sierra, and the show didn’t give us a lot to work with, so I’m going to have to come up with some of her characterization. And I agree. So I’m mashing her with Smokescreen. It’s gonna a be great. I love Smokescreen very much! I even have a whole AU of my own for him. He’s a tiny happy dumbass and since Sierra has basically no canon personality, I can make her be his long-suffering but still very fond best friend.

———————————————————————————————————

Sierra had been having a good day. Emphasis on the word had. It was the weekend. She had packed a small picnic, grabbed her favorite book, and hopped on her bike. She’d ridden out to the popular hiking trails, intending to take a short hike and finding a nice place to spend the afternoon with a her novel and her snacks. The sun was out, the weather was great, and she had nothing to do today. It was perfect. So, of course, the laws of the universe demanded that something go wrong.

‘Murphy is a cruel bastard and and I’m going to punch him in the face when I see him in the afterlife.’ She thought viciously, staring up at the hulking titan that had just crushed her lunch and bike under a single massive metal foot with a sense of numb disbelief. ‘At least I still have the book.’ She ignored how the thought echoed with a note of hysteria as she shoved said book into the messenger bag over her shoulder.

“Are you Sierra O’Niell?”

She was only slightly surprised when the massive robot spoke. Because why wouldn’t the giant robot that had just moments ago been a jet be able to speak? Honestly, what even was her life at this point. She was more concerned with the fact that the thing knew her name. Her initial instinct was the demand how it knew her name. But she’d seen the movies. She knew that would only confirm it’s suspicions.

“Who?” she forced herself to ask instead, surprising herself with how steady her voice was. It was the shock, she told herself. It had to be. It was making her emotionally numb. “What are you?”

The robot seemed startled, before it snarled something that was most definitely a curse. It started speaking, though not to her, and it took Sierra a moment to realize it must have been talking over some sort of built in communication system. “-wrong human, Soundwave! This pathetic fleshling you pointed out to me doesn’t even know who I am talking about.” It paused. “What do you mean it’s not the wrong human? I just told you-“ it cut itself off. “Ah. I see.” A sinister grin twisted at metallic features. “Thank you, Soundwave. I will return with my prize shortly.”

Oh, Sierra did not like the sound of that.

Sure enough, the robot turned to face her when it was done. “It seems you lied to me, little fleshling.” it sneered. “My associate tracked the signal of your personal communications device. You humans never go without it, I’ve been told.”

She blinked. “You hacked my phone?” she sputtered, and oops, she’d just confirmed her identity. ‘Stupid, Sierra.’

It’s face twisted into a cruel expression of glee. She did not like it. “Indeed.” It began bending down, and then a large hand was reaching towards her. “You shall be coming with me, human. Soundwave has seen how Jackson Darby is fond of you.” it purred. “You will make a lovely bargaining chip against that pathetic human runt and his Autobot protectors.”

And wait, this was because of Jack? How did he come into all this? If this thing was after her because of him, that had to mean he knew about it and it’s…friends. Did robots have friends? She didn’t know. And wait, Autobot?

She stiffened, scrabbling away from the large metallic hand, shunting those questions to the back of her mind to be answered later. Escape the terrifying metal monster now, murder Jack for pulling her into this later. Clearly though, the robot disliked her attempt to flee because it only growled and stepped towards her again.

That’s when she heard the roaring of a powerful engine. It made the robot pause too, and they both looked to where the sound came from. Then, over the crest of a hill, a white and blue sports car came flying in. It had red accents and bold 38s painted onto its doors. Sierra was impressed. She was no car person, but even she liked this one. Only, the car started breaking apart once it hit the ground, unfolding and growing into the form of, you guessed it, another robot.

Sierra despaired for her luck. ‘Murphy is going to die a second time for this. He’d better be prepared.’ She thought with vicious hysteria.

Except, to her great surprise, the new robot didn’t try to help capture her. No, instead it rammed full force into the tall jet robot that had tried to snatch her up. Said jet yelped before quickly getting back to its feet. Sierra heard the should of metal and gears shifting, and saw the newcomer’s large hand change to some sort of weapon, though not one she could recognize.

“Terrorizing humans now, Starscream?” it taunted. “Can’t say I’m surprised, you always were one to sink so low.”

The first robot, Starscream, apparently, snarled in outrage. “Pathetic Autobot!” it roared, and oh, so this newcomer was Autobot?

Except, from the two names she’d heard already, that didn’t sound like the type of name these robots seemed to have. She did notice the little face badges they wore, the white bot bearing a red one proudly on its shoulders while the jet robot wore a smaller, pointier face on its chest. So maybe those had something to do with the whole ‘Autobot’ thing? Hell if she knew. Sierra was clever, and she’d always been good at puzzles and mystery solving, but she didn’t have enough information for this whole…thing.

“I’m not the one who’s picking on defenseless humans, ‘Con!” the car robot barked, smirking at the skinnier jet.

The jet only snarled, lifting an arm that she was just noticing had a freaking missile attached to it, and the white robot stilled briefly, before shooting her a frantic look and oh, would you look at that, she seemed to be right in the blast radius of the missile, and oh god she was going to die-

Except, there was that shifting sound again, but much larger, and then car robot was leaping towards her. It hit the ground in car form, it’s driver door open as it slid sideways in her direction, and then she was swept up into it and the door slammed shut. Tires squealed, and then they were peeling away to the sound of a missile screaming and impacting where they had been a half second before. The jet roared in outrage, but the car robot was speeding straight towards civilization, and it seemed to want to avoid that because when she glanced at the rear view mirror she saw it leap into the sky and transform before flying away.

Sierra slowly sat up from her ungainly sprawl, pulling the seatbelt across her chest on reflex before sitting back against the driver’s seat and wheezing. Her heartbeat, which she only just noticed had been thundering wildly in her chest, started to slowly calm, and she had to force herself to take deep, even breaths to keep herself from hyperventilating.

Now, Sierra wasn’t an irrational girl. She was among the top students of all her classes, she was smart, she knew a lot about various topics, and she had a good understanding of how people worked. She was clever, she knew she had a good head on her shoulders. She kept some of her interests closer to her chest, and she played the good, polite, quiet girl for the adults, because she wasn’t without manners, thank you very much. All that meant, though, was that she wasn’t prone to screaming in terror and running like a madman when she was freaked out by something. She would prefer to understand something rather than be irrationally terrified of it.

This, though? This was a bit much, even for her. As her heartbeat calmed, a sense of nausea built in her throat. “Excuse me, robot?” she squeaked. She wasn’t even sure if she could communicate with it while it was in car mode, but it was worth a shot.

“It’s Smokescreen.”

What?

“What?”

“My name is Smokescreen. Not “robot”.”

It sounded miffed. Which, okay. That was fair. If someone called her just “human” she’d probably be upset too. Hell, she had been upset when that other one, Starscream, had called her a “fleshling”. Smokescreen’s voice also sounded very male, and she paused before asking.

“And you’re not an “it” either, then?”

“No, I’m a mech.” A pause. “Uh, a male, by your definitions.”

“Okay. Smokescreen. Well, I’m Sierra, and as grateful as I am for your rescue you should really, really stop and let me out. Humans don’t handle extreme stress very well and I’m about to be sick.”

“Sick?”

Oh god, did robots even get sick?

“I’m about to vomit. Which means I am very close to expelling internal body waste, and it will be right in your seats if you don’t let me out so I can barf behind some rocks.” she informed him tightly, fighting down a gag.

There was a brief moment if silence as Smokescreen seemed to process her words, before he turned off the side of the road, drove behind some rocks, and popped open the door. “Please don’t be sick in me.” Oh, now he sounded sick. Sierra felt a little bad.

She didn’t say anything to that, instead stumbling out of the car and out of sight, before promptly bending over and tossing her breakfast. She gagged on bile, and after a moment of pause to make sure there was nothing left in her stomach, she stood and made her way back to where Smokescreen was waiting. She pulled her water bottle from her bag, taking a sip and washing out her mouth with it before spitting it to the side, and then she proceeded to drink everything left in the bottle. She tucked it away, turning to her impromptu ride, and opened her mouth to speak, when-.

“Oh slag.” He beat her to the punch.

She was confused, recognizing that as a curse of some sort, and then she heard the beeping from his radio.

“Um, hold on for a minute, alright? I gotta take this.” He sounded anxious, and didn’t give her a chance to answer before there was a click as he did just that.

She heard muffled noises over the radio, though she couldn’t make out the words being said.

“Um, yeah. There was a ‘Con signal. I was close so I checked it out.”

More radio noises, angry sounding ones.

“I know, I know! But I was closest and no one would pick up their comm. so I thought I should st least check it out! It was a good thing too, Starscream was there and he was about to snatch up a human!”

A pause, and then an explosion of garbled noise from the radio. Sierra got the feeling that Smokescreen was wincing.

“Well what was I supposed to do? Let her be taken? Plus she’d already seen him so it wasn’t like seeing me was going to do much damage!”

A growling noise, followed by a hiss of static.

“Yes, Ratchet. I know. And I am sorry, alright! I know I went against code again but if I had waited a human would’ve been in Deception hands and as new as I am to this planet, even I know that’s bad!”

Wait, planet? Was this giant ass robot an actual alien? That…honestly made sense. With that day she’d had, she wasn’t even surprised. Smokescreen was still having his discussion with…whoever was on the other end.

“Yes, I’ll bring her back to base. I’m not going to apologize for saving her, though.”

More angry static.

“Yeah yeah. I get it.”

He sounded tired, defeated. Sierra felt bad, and wondered what was being said to make him sound like that when he’d been so bright before.

“No, you don’t need to send a ground bridge. I’m close to the base anyway. I’ll be there soon.”

There was a click as Smokescreen disconnected from whoever called him, and then she could tell he was talking to her when he spoke next. “Mind hopping in? I gotta bring you back to base. The boss can explain everything. I promise you won’t be hurt or anything.”

Sierra hesitated for a moment, then sighed. She knew she probably shouldn’t, but at this point what was the harm? Besides, her gut instinct was telling her that, based on what that Starscream character had said about Jack, she wouldn’t have to worry about being hurt. Not if Darby spent all his free time around these weird alien robots and came back fine. Mind decided, she slipped into the car’s open door. It shut on its own, and she buckled herself in once more.

“Thanks.” He sounded grateful. And then he was driving off.

He wasn’t saying anything, and neither was Sierra, and she let herself be alone with her thoughts. They drove for a while, and Sierra let herself enjoy the landscape that passed by Smokescreen’s window. He really was a nice ride, she mused. Sleek and fast, and his engine purred quietly as he drove along the highway. She didn’t know much about cars, but she knew his car mode was a good one.

Soon enough, they were coming towards a large mesa. Smokescreen drove right toward its side, not even slowing as he approached, Sierra tensed, about to protest, when a previously invisible door opened in the rock face. She shut her mouth, her eyes blowing wide. Oh. That explained that. Their base was hidden in plain sight. Which…she supposed was fitting, for alien robots who disguised themselves as cars and jets. Smokescreen took them through a tunnel, and then they were coming into a large central chamber. Sierra peeked out if the window to see two other robots there. One, stocky and painted in red and white. The other…was absolutely massive. He towered above the red and white bot, and she had a feeling he’d tower over Smokescreen too. He was broad as he was tall, with wide shoulders and a heavy looking chest, his metal armor painted in red and blue. Sierra didn’t know how she knew, but she just knew that this large one was a he, a mech, as Smokescreen had said.

The door at her side popped open, and after brief hesitation she unbuckled herself and stood up. There was that sound of transformation behind her, and she glanced back to see Smokescreen rising to his feet in his robot mode. Then a voice spoke and she snapped her head around to see the large bot speaking.

“Greetings, young one. My name is Optimus Prime. My companion is Ratchet, and you have already met Smokescreen.”

Ratchet. That’s who Smokescreen had been talking to earlier. “I’m Sierra.” she said after a moment. “Sierra O’Niell.”

Optimus tilted his head downwards in her direction. “May I inquire why Starscream was attempting to abduct you, if you know?”

“You’re very polite.” she remarked dryly. “He said something about wanting to use me to get to Jack Darby, so that he could in turn use Jack to get to the “Autobots”. I’m guessing that’s you guys?”

Optimus shared a look with Ratchet, then looked back at her. “Indeed. Myself and my team are Autobots. Starscream is a Decepticon. Our factions are enemies, I am afraid.” he explained. “We are not from your world, Sierra O’Niell. We hail from a planet called Cybertron. Our two factions were at War on our home, and that War destroyed our world. The Deceptions came here, searching for energon, and we have followed them to keep them from destroying your planet and it’s people in their quest for it.”

Sierra turned that over. She’d guessed they weren’t from Earth, so that wasn’t a surprise. The rest of the information was new, though. And appreciated. “What’s energon? And how does Jack fit into all this?”

Optimus sighed. “Energon is an energy source, and the very lifeblood of every Cybertronian.” he explained. “It is a natural resource that was once common on our home, and somehow Earth too produces it in great abundance.” he explained. “Jackson, Miko, and Raphael became involved with us by accident. They were seen with my Autobots when they mistakenly were pulled into a battle with the Decepticons, and the Decepticons assumed they were our allies. In order to protect them, we took them under our watch and guard to ensure they could not be harmed.”

So, Esquivel and Nakadai were part of this too. She shouldn’t be surprised. She’d seen the cars that picked those two up, now that she thought of it. Speaking of which….

“Jack’s motorcycle is an Autobot, isn’t it? And Miko and Raphael’s cars?”

Optimus hummed. “Indeed. Arcee, Bumblee, and Bulkhead were the ones to initially partner with and save the children in that first encounter. After they were brought into the fold, it made only sense to assign them as their Autobot guardians.”

Sierra nodded as she took that all in. Then she frowned. “I’m involved now too, aren’t I? I would have been involved regardless, if the Decepticons were really after me, but Smokescreen saving me just means my involvement is going to be more pleasant than it otherwise would have been.”

Optimus and Ratchet shared yet another look, before casting their gazes to Smokescreen. The white bot fidgeted under their combined stares, head ducking and looking uncomfortable. “While we are not pleased that the youngling acted on impulse and charged into battle against protocol, we are pleased that he saved your life, young Sierra.” Optimus said after a moment.

Sierra blinked. “Youngling.” she repeated in confusion. Then she narrowed her eyes. “You’re not getting him into trouble for saving me, are you?” she asked heatedly. The very idea insulted her.

Optimus twitched as if startled, then rumbled a soft chuckle. “Youngling, yes. It is a term used by Cybertronians to refer to those of us who are not yet fully grown. Smokescreen is the equivalent of a human teenager.” he explained. “And worry not. In this instance, we can overlook the breach in regulations. It would send a poor message to punish a bot for upholding the Autobot creed.”

Sierra relaxed at that, nodding. Then she narrowed her eyes. “I’m going to want to have a discussion with you later about why you’re letting teenagers fight in a war, but I know now isn’t the time.” she said threateningly.

Both older bots startled back and her tone and words, and Smokescreen squeaked from behind her. She turned and drew a harsh line across her mouth before he could say anything, and she watched as he stared, slack-jawed, before closing his mouth with an audible clack. That done, she returned her attention to the apparent leader. There was one more thing she wanted settled.

“You said the others got guardians, right?”

A nod.

“Well, if I’m going to need one, and something tells me I will, then I want this one.” she jerked her thumb over her shoulder at Smokescreen.

Optimus’s eyes narrowed in what she realized was a faint smile. “If Smokescreen agrees, then I have no issues with that.” he hummed. “All I ask is that you remain here until our liaison with the human government arrives. Agent Fowler will want to discuss some matters with you before you return home.”

Sierra blinked. So the government knew about all this. That was good to know. It meant she wouldn’t get in trouble for conspiring with aliens if it ever came to light. She could also understand why they kept this whole thing a secret, even if governments hiding things from the public wasn’t always a good thing. In this case, it was a good thing.

“As long as I’m home before my curfew.” she agreed.

Another bow of that great head, and then Optimus was turning to stride away. Presumably to make contact with this Fowler. That left her and Smokescreen with Ratchet.

The stocky bot glanced at them, then turned to that odd console she’d noticed earlier. “Smokescreen will show you around.” Was all he said, waving them away with a dismissive flip of his hand.

Sierra, taking that as her cue, turned to the youngest bot. She thrust out her hand. “What do you say? Partners?”

He seemed confused, before slowly crouching and extending his hand to tap a finger to her palm. “Yeah, sure.” he seemed a little awed that she’d want to partner with him.

She smiled. “Good. In that case, why don’t you give me a ride and show me around your base?”

Smokescreen seemed confused. “Ride?”

“On your shoulder. I’d like to see it from your perspective.”

He blinked, then shrugged and put his hand, palm up, on the floor. Sierra took that as her que to climb up, and he carefully transferred her to his shoulder. Cool. Very cool. She just wanted to ride on the giant alien robot, and now she got to. That was cool.

She saw him look at her out of the corner of his bright, shining blue eyes, and she smiled warmly. “Well? Show me around your home, big guy. I’d like to get to know you.”

Smokescreen perked up, the little protrusions on his back wiggling with his apparent joy, and Sierra grinned a little wider. Oh, he was cute. How a giant robot could be endearing, she didn’t know, but he did it. He was sort of like a puppy. A giant, metal, alien puppy. She held on as he started walking, and she listened with half an ear, processing and noting what he told her as the rest of her mind turned over the events of her day.

It had been stressful, and scary, but now that it was all done and she was fine…

‘Yeah.’ she thought, watching her new partner eagerly show her around the small, hidden base he called home. ‘I think I’m gonna like it here.’

———————————————————————————————————

And that was that! I hoped you like it! It was fun to write. The show didn’t give Sierra a last name or a real personality, so I had to kind of do that bit myself. And I was right! I did enjoy writing this. The prompt inspired me to write this faster than I thought I’d be able to. I do not expect to be able to fill a prompt this quickly again. Unfortunately. Also, Sierra is definitely going to be the straight man to Smokescreen. He’s going to need it. Badly.

Until next time, friends!

[youngerdrgrey]

relax (this is private, too) // a Mary/Ryan oneshot

about: In a post-2x13 world, Mary welcomes Sophie to the Bat Team, and Sophie derails the conversation with an observation.

“It’s a tale as old as time. ‘Straight’ girl meets somebody that she just has to know, wants to spend all her time with her, starts wearing her clothes….” Sophie and Mary both look down at the color-block jacket that Mary’s wearing — Ryan’s color-block jacket. But Mary couldn’t possibly have a crush on Ryan… could she? + read on ao3

notes: Surprise! Truly, none probably more surprised than me. One moment I'm saying that I probably won't write for a bit, and the next I'm writing this because we really didn't talk enough about Mary saying, "Okay, that's kind of sexy" over the hot shot moment. (As a note, yes, platonic, intimate friendships between women are important. At this moment, though, let's run the tape back with Mary who is very confused.)

🦇

“Sit, sit, sit.” Mary leads Sophie through the loft to the living room. “You must have questions.”

Sophie does sit — on the chair this time, which leaves the couch open for Mary. It’s a slightly different seating arrangement than they had yesterday. There’s definitely a lot less attitude and tension here, but then again, it is only Mary and Sophie right now. Unless Ryan’s patrol goes poorly, but it probably won’t. Besides, Mary had texted Ryan about wanting some one-on-one time to suss Sophie out. Sophie’s a great person, but she might need to come around to Ryan wearing the suit.

Mary uncorks the wine bottle on the coffee table and gives a generous pour into the two stemless glasses. It’s a rosè, which is the perfect drink for a casual conversation. It’s light, airy, and has absolutely no chance of worms or poison in the bottom.

Sophie eyes her glass a moment before picking it up anyway. “Honestly?” She chuckles. “I have less questions now.”

“Really?” Mary settles back into the couch. “Because I won’t judge you if you do. It’s a lot to take in.” Mary’d wanted to rip the suit right off of Ryan the first time that she saw Ryan in it. Granted, at the time, they’d still been trying to find Kate, and a stranger was wearing Mary’s sister’s secret vigilante costume.

Sophie swirls her glass. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m still processing the Ryan Wilder of it all, but… well, it all makes sense now.” She leans forward, her elbows finding the tops of her knees as she pitches towards Mary. “Before last week, I couldn’t understand why Ryan was suddenly everywhere. Sure, she worked at the bar, but then you were roommates out of nowhere. You went from zero to….” Sophie snorts into her wine glass.

Mary laughs too, but she doesn’t quite get why. It’s like they’re playing Never Have I Ever all over again. “Zero to what? I want in on the joke.”

Sophie shakes her head though. Her eyebrows pull together like she’s still puzzling something. Then she gives in, and her voice still has a hint of that humor as she finishes, “Zero to U-haul.” Mary chokes on the air in her lungs. Sophie raises her glass in a silent toast. “So, the Batwoman thing — makes a lot more sense than you suddenly having a girlfriend.”

Mary’s cheeks flush. Leave it to the lesbian to assume Mary’s hiding her sexuality. “A secret girlfriend is much more your speed.” Wait, is that rude? “Uh, no offense.”

Sophie takes a swig of wine. “None taken. You’re right. So, tell me more about working with Ryan.”

Mary smiles. This, she can do. She could talk about Ryan for hours. “She’s amazing. I mean, you know, you’ve seen her. She totally fills out the suit. Like it suits her and not the other way around. You’d think that it wouldn’t, but she really makes it her own.”

“Right, with the wig.”

“With everything!” Mary drinks some more. “She really gets this city, you know? Everything we’re doing with the Center is all Ryan’s idea. She came up with the plan, and she has these rules that we follow as the Bat Team! No killing, no working with Crows — again, no offense. Er, well,” Mary tilts her head to the side, “some offense. You guys have an awful track record at this point.”

Sophie takes another drink. “So you tell me.”

“But we also do team building exercises. It’s mostly us playing Taboo, and Luke getting really tired of us. Ryan’s so great. It’s like we don’t even have to say anything to know what the other is thinking. And even though she’s the boss, and she’s the leader, it’s like we’re really working side by side to make Gotham the place we always wanted it to be. The Center’s only the start. She has ideas about upgraded transitional shelters for people experiencing homelessness, and expanding the clinic if we get enough resources. She listened to my whole pitch about what we would need to do it, and asked questions, and— what?”

Sophie’s staring at Mary. Staring hard, but soft at the same time.

Mary swipes a hand across her cheek. “Is something on my face?”

Sophie shakes her head. “No, it’s nothing.” She drinks again, but her brows stay furrowed.

“Sophie, come on. Whatever it is, you can tell me.” Maybe hearing about all the good that Ryan wants is too much for Sophie right now. Mary can wait. It’s not like she’ll run out of good stuff to say.

“It’s the way you talk about her,” Sophie says finally. That softness is there again. A gentle touch in her voice. “Between that and your ‘kinda sexy’ comment yesterday… I don’t know, Mary, it just sounds like you have a crush.”

“A crush?” Mary repeats. “On Ryan?” She scoffs. “Hate to break it to you, Sophie, but I am straight. Like so straight. Like—”

Sophie puts her hands up in a silent casual defense. She drops them a moment later. “You don’t have to convince me. I believe you.”

“Thank you!” Mary flops back into the couch. Her head bounces just a bit on the top of it. Her curls smush, and she sinks down so that the thought can hopefully follow it out of her head.

She knows what sexy is. She can identify that something could be attractive without actually being attracted to said thing. There are all the different types of attraction. She ran a course on gender and sexuality for the doctors and volunteers at her clinic to make sure that everyone was on the same page in how to properly treat people that the medical field did not always regard with respect. She would know if she had a crush on Ryan.

Wouldn’t she?

Sophie sets her wine onto the coffee table. “It’s a tale as old as time. ‘Straight’ girl meets somebody that she just has to know, wants to spend all her time with her, starts wearing her clothes….” Sophie and Mary both look down at the color-block jacket that Mary’s wearing — Ryan’s color-block jacket.

“Okay, but we live together,” Mary reasons. Roommates borrow each other’s clothes. It’s not like she’s taking her crush’s jacket so that she has an excuse to see Ryan again. She can see Ryan whenever she wants. She does see Ryan whenever she wants. She can’t even count the number of times she’s come back from an awful shift, walked into Ryan’s room, and flopped down onto the bed beside her.

Her bed’s not softer than Mary’s. Mary obviously cared a lot more about her rest than Kate did, so Mary’s mattress is a dream. But Ryan’s room smells like a dialed down greenhouse. It smells alive and hopeful and earthy in a way that instantly calms Mary down. And when Mary’s having a really rough day, Ryan will put a pillow in her lap and run her hands through Mary’s hair until she stops seeing whatever gruesome wounds that she’s spent the last few hours dealing with. That’s not a crush. That’s… comfort. Intimacy. A deep, deep starvation for physical touch after a lifetime of parental neglect.

Friends can be affectionate. Friends can want to be close to each other.

She wants to be close to Luke. And to Sophie! She would love to curl up next to Sophie right now. Though, the more that Mary thinks about curling up with Sophie, the more she recognizes that it wouldn’t be the same as cozying up to Ryan. Ryan’s basically her same size. She’s got this warmth that radiates from her cheeks and her chest, and she hums songs and asks Mary to guess which song it is. Mary’s awful at this game, by the way. She usually ends up giving up, or drifting off to sleep while Ryan’s clearly picking songs that Mary — as someone who did not grow up in a Black household — did not grow up with.

(The one time Mary used that as a defense, Ryan had pointed out that Ryan didn’t grow up in a Black household either. Ryan grew up in a mismatch of cultures and identities in group homes before Mama Cora found her in high school. They’d made up for lost time with plenty of Miss Anita Baker and all the classics that Ryan had missed out on. The rest of Ryan’s cultural education came from other Black students and friends who’d either clowned her for not knowing a reference, or rushed to show her what their parents told them. It hadn’t been as simple as a natural osmosis for Ryan to feel at home with some of the cultural references around her.)

(Mary had whispered that it wasn’t easy for her either. Not with her mom working all the time and the rest of her Korean-American family out of reach. “There weren’t many Korean people in Gotham.” An understatement, but Ryan had leaned down and pressed a kiss to the crown of Mary’s head to comfort her. Sadness Mary hadn’t even known was still there had welled up. Liquified into tears that slipped onto Ryan’s pillow.)

(“It was—” Her breath had caught in her throat. The tears smeared her vision, which was fine, since all she could see from this angle were Ryan’s plants by the window anyway. “It was so lonely sometimes. And my dad…. With Kate… And Alice….” She couldn’t finish a single sentence. All the tears turned to sobs, and the sobs turned into this soul-clenching pressure in her chest.)

(Ryan had curled around Mary then. An arm found its way under Mary’s knees and softly tugged her into a tighter ball in Ryan’s lap. Ryan rocked them, whispered again and again, “It’s okay. Let it out. I got you. I’m here, Mary. I’m here.”)

Mary gulps now. “Ryan is….” She’s Mary’s roommate. Mary’s best friend. She’s the one who got Mary through losing Kate and who welcomed Mary onto the Bat Team. She’s the first person Mary calls whenever anything happens and literally the only person Mary could entrust The Hold Up to. She’s Batwoman, and…. And Mary has no idea what she would do without Ryan at this point. But it’s not like Mary wants to kiss Ryan. Just look at Ryan.

Look at Ryan in those ridiculous flannel shirts. She has twelve. Not including jackets. And she’s a woman, which is not Mary’s type. Mary hasn’t been super successful with her previous type, but they definitely have certain characteristics that Ryan does not. They don’t walk around in fluffy robes that they bought to spite their ex-girlfriends, or wake up super early after a late shift to use the workout bike that Mary still has never actually tried riding. They don’t make Mary sweet potato pancakes and encourage her to try out cooking on her off nights for stress relief. They don’t make her feel like home. They don’t…. Shit.

The lowest groan that Mary has ever done in her life grumbles out of her.

Sophie pops her lips. “There it is.”

Mary squeezes her eyes shut. “You’re not right. I don’t — I can’t — it’s Ryan.” She can’t fall for her best friend! She doesn’t have a backup bestie. “Besides!” Mary pops up to tell Sophie, “I have never once wanted to kiss her.”

Sophie raises an eyebrow in the smoothest, most silent way to ask, Are you sure?

(Mary got them breakfast the next morning. She couldn’t do the sweet potato pancakes, but she knew the right cafe to get Ryan’s favorite vegan chorizo burrito. She got back just as Ryan was finishing up a shower and called out, “Breakfast!”)

(Steam followed Ryan out of her bedroom. The tips of her hair dripped softly onto her shirt, just above her chest, and Mary couldn’t stop glancing down at it. Normally, she would’ve been able to, but that morning…. Ryan snatched up her burrito and flopped down onto the couch. On the first bite, Ryan let out a soft moan that somehow carried straight over to Mary. Maybe Mary made the wrong food choice? If the burrito was that good, and Mary could feel it, then she needed some of what Ryan was having.)

(“You’re brilliant,” Ryan said. Then she locked eyes with Mary and gestured with her burrito. “Anyone who would ever leave you behind is a dumbass. Full offense to the entire Hamilton-Kane family.” Ryan dug in for another bite, and Mary’s heart swelled in her chest. She couldn’t even smile with how full she felt. How warm and safe and loved. God, she loved Ryan. She really, really could spend the rest of her life like this.)

(Ryan’s face scrunched up. “Stop looking at me like that. I don’t care how hungry you look. I’m not sharing.”)

(Mary faked an outraged gasp. She wasn’t even hungry. Not anymore, not really. Still, she threw herself onto the couch beside Ryan. “I paid for it! Give me a bite!” Ryan squirmed away, and Mary had to cling to the curve of Ryan’s back to try and reach for the good. “Come on! Ryan!”)

(If Ryan was a guy, this is when Mary would’ve kissed him. Would’ve peppered his head and his cheeks and his nose with kisses until he turned just enough for her to kiss his full lips and suck his tongue into her mouth. To lose every bit of resistance in the soft brush of her hands, and the gentle curls of Ryan’s hair beneath her fingers. Ryan’s teeth nipping at her bottom lip, then her neck, then—)

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!” Mary sinks even deeper into the couch. Then shoots up at the reminder of the memory of wanting to kiss Ryan on this exact freaking couch. She turns her wide eyes to Sophie. “What am I going to do?”

Sophie clicks her tongue. “Nope, I want nothing to do with that. Whatever happens there is between you and Ryan.”

“But what if….” Mary loses her words in a squeak. What if she doesn’t know what she wants to happen? What if she doesn’t want anything to happen? What if she’ll be totally fine, going about her business, continuing her life where she gets to occasionally cuddle up with her best friend in their apartment? Maybe she doesn’t need anything more than that. She’s made it this far, and she didn’t even know she had any sort of feelings, or attraction. She can keep on going now. She can be normal.

Not normal meaning straight, just normal meaning Mary’s normal state. Which was straight. Is straight?

Mary groans. “I hate my life.”

Sophie reaches for the wine bottle and fills Mary’s glass up to the brim. “Look on the bright side — at least you know who she is. No secret identities, or clandestine rendezvous. Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

“I am apparently into a lot of things I didn’t know,” Mary mumbles.

Sophie sighs. “It’s not that different, and for you, maybe it’s not different at all. Maybe….” Sophie glances around the loft. Mary follows her eyes as they bounce from the wine to the hallway to the silly bat wall decals that Ryan got from Party City and put near the TV. Sophie nods her head, as she finds her words. “Ryan loves Halloween.”

“What?”

“Stick with me.” Sophie points to the bats, then the tiny plastic pumpkins from the checkout section of Target. “Ryan loves Halloween. She decorates the whole house around it because she loves it so much. But me, I grew up in a strict Christian household where Halloween was not what we did. We did Christmas. And you….”

Mary follows again. “We did a mix. Christmas and Hanukkah.”

Sophie winces. “Okay, a mix of holidays. You’re not strictly a one holiday kind of girl. And that’s fine.”

Mary glances back to the Halloween decorations. “So, in this metaphor—”

“It might be time to celebrate Halloween. Maybe you’ll love it. Maybe you’ll hate it. But it’s October now, so, get a costume, grab a pumpkin, and tell her how you feel.”

Okay. Mary can do that. Mary can totally do that. If she can handle Alice imploding her entire life in front of the whole world, then she can tell her roommate that she has a crush on her.

Maybe.

Someday.

When she’s ready.

“Can we, uh, work our way up to Halloween? I feel like I’m still hearing fireworks.”

Sophie grins at her. “Of course. We’ll go at your speed. And if you have any questions?”

Mary picks back up her wine glass and knocks back nearly half of it. “I’ll ask you. Or Parker. She’s incredibly knowledgeable for a teenager.” She probably wouldn’t use such convoluted metaphors either. It’s a win-win really. Great, last time Mary saw Parker, they were watching the lesbian drama; now Mary will be a part of it. Ugh. "I'm never living this down, am I?"

"Oh, absolutely not. Hey, Mary?" Sophie waits until Mary's turned her steadily narrowing gaze to her. "Never have I ever had a crush on Batwoman."

Mary flips Sophie off.

🦇

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 1-5: 命运的拐点 Destiny’s Turning Point Translation

“Destiny is like a gust of wind… Red leaves flutter, flying away in the face of it.  And it is when the winds pick up ― That you meet once more…”

"Oh? Come on then, I’m waiting.”

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

MC: Uh oh, now I can’t run.

I stood rooted to my spot, brain blanking out.

??: Why aren’t you saying anything? Am I that terrifying?

I resisted the urge to nod in the heat of the moment, knowing that it wouldn’t do me any good to provoke him now. I lightly shook my head in response.

MC: …I didn’t see anything earlier.

??: Then why are you trying to escape?

His voice was calm and composed, much unlike my shaky one.

However, that soon changed. His voice took on a commanding tone, frigid and icy.

??: Turn around. Let’s have a talk.

I recalled that in movies, no good ever came out of having seen the villain’s face. I shook my head once more.

??: Must I make you?

Following a chuckle, the hand removed itself from the door and hovered close to my face. His hand was so close that I could feel the chill radiating off his fingers.

There was a faintly discernible scent of black cedarwood handing in the air. My instincts screamed danger.

My heart jumped, for fear that he’d take things a step further. I abruptly whipped around to face him.

❖☆———————————★❖

A man was standing in front of me within arm’s reach, looking down at me with a playful expression on his face. His eyes were sharp, with something wild and dangerous flickering within its depths.

??: Now that’s more like it.

He backed away a little, using his other hand to dangle the earring before my eyes.

❖☆———————————★❖

??: Did you lose this?

I frantically shook my head like how one would shake a rattle. Suddenly, I realized that something wasn’t quite right here. Why did he ask me if I’d lost it?

Is he testing me?

I tried my hardest to remain calm, holding tightly onto the phone I’d hidden behind my back as I felt around for the emergency call button.

??: ……

Who would have thought that he’d actually lean down, clasping onto my hand with a start. He slightly raised his eyes, fixing me with a calm look.

??: And what do you think you’re doing?

MC: Nothing.

??: You suspect that I’m the one who stole it, yes?

MC: ……

??: Then how about you take a guess? What do you think will happen if you get in the way of my business?

I could tell that he was evidently trying to egg me on. I was already a nervous wreck from being completely seen through by him, and since he’d already caught me red-handed in the act, there wasn’t much sense in trying to hide it anymore.

MC: This earring was something an acquaintance of mine lost. My brooch has also gone missing.

MC: And I saw you in the corridor right before things started going missing!

The man raises his chin after a few seconds of silence, releasing his hold on me.

??: Give me your hand.

I didn’t know what he intended to do with it, but neither did I have the courage to ask, so all I could do was to stick a hand out just like he asked.

He placed the earrings onto my awaiting palm and jabbed his finger behind him.

??: Take that and follow me.

I held onto the ruby earrings, stunned. The thought of running away and making my escape flashed to the forefront of my mind when I saw that he’d already proceeded a couple of steps forward.

The man turned back to look at me coldly, as if he was issuing a silent order to follow.

With no other choice, all I could do was to hold tightly onto the earrings and follow him to the corner of the roof.

❖☆———————————★❖

There was a wooden box there, not the jewellery box or the apple box kind that were frequently used in the competition, but an old cube that had been hollowed out in the middle with a couple of scratches at the sides.

He pointed to the box, gesturing for me to look within.

Cautiously peeking into it, I saw a layer of hay spread out on the bottom of the box. It appears to be what looked like a bird’s nest, with two bluish-purple feathers nestled within.

And the centre of this “nest” was filled with earrings, hairpins, rings… Heck, these were all the accessories we lost!

❖☆———————————★❖

MC: What are they all doing here!?

I whipped around to look at him in shock, forgetting my fear.

??: The thief hid it here. I found it.

??: Weren’t you missing a brooch? Have fun looking.

Is he for real? Is he not making this up on the fly…? Does this mean that he's… really not the thief?

Almost as if he’d read my thoughts, the man shrugged his shoulders and stepped a couple of steps away, turning his gaze up towards the night sky. I remained wary as I bent down and sifted through the pile until I found my missing brooch. I gave it a thorough check.

❖☆———————————★❖

MC: Thank god. It’s still in one piece…

??: Found it?

MC: Yeah.

The man moved away from the wall he had been leaning on, straightening up as he headed towards me. The heavy clouds finally moved away, revealing the moonlight that filtered down, illuminating his features.

He wore a look of indifference, his lips pressed into a thin line. He even had a great well-defined jawline.

❖☆———————————★❖

Suddenly, a memory flashed across my mind— The contestant that stood atop the highest point of the podium took off his helmet, looking towards the crowd below the stage.

Something clicked as the figure in front of me started associating itself with the image that An'an had once showed me. I widened my eyes incredulously.

❖☆———————————★❖

MC: No way! You're… Osborn!?

He stiffened for a while before his expression returned to his usual aloof one.

Osborn: You know of me? Looks like word of my name really travels.

…It’s really him!?

I only found myself puzzled even more despite having gotten undeniable affirmation from him. I just couldn’t connect the idea that the well-known racer was actually the same guy suspiciously sneaking about on the rooftop at night with our lost items.

A multitude of questions filled my mind.

MC: How did you find them here? Even the police couldn’t.

Osborn: Well, those two feathers there.

MC: This is…

Osborn: Feathers of a Purplite Bird. They like to gather shiny things and bring them back to their nest.

I suddenly recalled that I’d seen these exact same feathers inside my jewelry box. So… I was actually the one who’d misunderstood his intentions?

The realization hit me hard, followed by a bout of embarrassment. I wanted to say something to explain myself out of this awkward situation, but Osborn only smiled lightly at me.

The wind blew leisurely past the roof, bringing refreshing coolness along with it.

☆Light Choice: Trust him 

I decided to give him the benefit of doubt, trusting him since I'd already managed to ascertain his identity.

Besides, it was more important to focus on the contest given the current situation.

MC: Alright then. I'll believe you. Although... What are you doing here this late?

★Night Choice: Still feel a little skeptical

MC: But it’s so late now. What are you doing here? Besides, how did you know that we lost stuff?

Osborn: For someone so cowardly, you sure do have a load of questions.

Osborn: I’m no different from you. I’m still here because I’m looking for something I lost during rehearsals.

Osborn inclined his head, taking out a bracelet from his pocket.

It was a silver nameplate bracelet. Osborn held it up, lightly shaking it.

The nameplate had a two-headed snake motif on the front, with some English words and numbers engraved at the back.

❖☆———————————★❖

I couldn’t help but to feel as if something was off about it, but there was no real need for me to be delving deeper into it. It was more important to focus on the upcoming competition.

MC: So, what do we do about the rest of the stuff?

Osborn: I’ve already informed the police, so the rest of the missing items should be returned in due time after they’re done wrapping things up.

MC: Great. Then, seeing as how the issue has already been settled… I guess I’ll better be going now.

I nodded to him before making a speedy escape towards the exit. However, the weight nestled in my palm reminded me of something that I’d overlooked. After giving it some thought, I halted and turned back around.

Osborn: What now? Can’t bear to leave?

MC: I should put this brooch back. Else, the numbers won’t quite tally when the police do a count.

I placed the brooch back into the box and was just about to leave when my fingers accidentally brushed against the blueish-purple feathers. Suddenly, I was hit by an inexplicable wave of grief that filled my chest.

It was as if all my senses had suddenly dulled. All I heard was an odd, yet clear birdsong that made itself known to my ears, sad, forlorn, and speaking of immeasurable grief.

I hurriedly retracted my hand, suddenly feeling my senses revert to normal as I returned back to my body. Everything returned to normal, making what I’d just experienced seem naught but a brief trance of sorts.

MC: Do you hear something?

Osborn: Hear what?

He looked at me questioningly, seemingly not having heard the same thing I had.

MC: …Nothing. It must just be my imagination then.

I hesitantly made my way towards the door, mulling over the peculiar experience I just had while I opened the door. However, the door didn’t budge.

A chuckle sounded in my ears, carried along by the wind.

Osborn gave it a hard tug. It swung open with a loud clang.

It looks like the bolt had just gotten stuck.

Osborn: Looks like you’re not only lacking in the courage department, but strength as well.

Osborn: You’re welcome.

He looked me straight in the eye, a hint of a mirth flickering across his eyes.

MC: I’ve yet to even thank you…

Osborn: Oh? Come on then, I’m waiting.

MC: Thank. You. Very. Much.

I’d long since lost the fear I’d felt earlier. I met his gaze, biting out every word of thanks.

His attention had been starting to wander, his eyes moving elsewhere. However, he whipped back around upon hearing that, raising an eyebrow in question. I ignored him, dashing right downstairs.

It was only until the girl’s figure had disappeared down the stairs that Osborn shut the door to the roof.

A purple-coloured bird appeared under the covers of the night sky, letting out a shrill cry as it hovered mid-air.

It fluttered its wings, it’s entire body exuding inky black mist that seemed to devour everything in sight.

Osborn: Great to see you here. Now that spares me the trouble of having to go looking for you.

He raised a hand, deep blue flames erupting from his fingertips.

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 1-3) | Next Part: (Chapter 1-7)

[nitewrighter]

We've had Uncle Hanzo reading to little Rei but what about little Rei reading to Hanzo?

“Omnicode cipher one-one-eight-Delta-B underscore six is for...” 5-year-old Rei yawned, “Puhhh--pace--Peace!” She was tucked practically into a ball against Hanzo’s side, with Hanzo’s arm draping across the back of the loveseat, arching over her as he leaned his head back and rested his eyes. The late afternoon sun was streaming through the window and turning the insides of his eyelids sepia-red. A part of him knew he would probably stay awake if he took his hoodie off, but Rei was leaning against him and had finally seemed to stop fidgeting and he didn’t want to reset her posture by the action. He felt Rei nudge against him and he blinked his eyes open.

“I was listening--” he said, his voice a little groggy.

“But is it right?” asked Rei.

Hanzo gave a glance down to the page, the text was laid out in both english and Omnicode, with blocky, vivid illustrations showing a human and an omnic holding hands with yellow sunbeams streaming behind them and the Omnicode character for ‘Peace’ smack dab in the center of the sun. One corner of his mouth tugged up. Zenyatta had lent the book, Omnicode Adventure, to them to ask their opinion on it before the Shambali would publish it as a sort of gesture of goodwill between humans and omnics, but Hanzo wasn’t sure if a 144 character language with numerous complex context-and-sequence-shifted meanings translated all that well to a children’s book. It certainly felt far from an adventure.

“Yes, it’s right,” said Hanzo and Rei turned the page. 

“Omnicode cipher one-one-eight-Delta-B underscore seven is for....” Rei rubbed her eyes, “Family. Also Proh--uh...”

“Sound it out,” said Hanzo.

“Prooodue-”

“Little ‘u’ sound.”

“Produc--Produc-tee-own.”

“Production.”

“Production Seeress.”

“Production series.”

“Production series,” Rei nodded as she repeated.

The illustration for this cipher featured both a human family on one page and a group of identical omnics standing with their arms slung around each others’ shoulders on the other. Rei turned the page, rubbing one eye before adjusting her hold on the book.

“Omnicode cipher one-one-eight Delta-C underscore one is for---” Rei started to read when the door to the living room opened and McCree walked in, sighing and stretching. 

“You would not believe what happened with Jack at Winston’s latest--” McCree paused at the sight of Rei on the couch, “Oh hey, Sunshine.”

“Uncle Jesse, I’m reading!” she said.

“Oh yeah?” said McCree, setting a bag down in one of the chairs before plopping on the other side of Rei on the couch, “Something happen with Ange?”

“Something about a vid-com emergency meeting with one of her colleagues,” said Hanzo, with a hand wave, “And with Genji on that mission in Numbani... Rei gets to spend the afternoon with us.”

“And I’m reading,” Rei said again, a bit of that Genji theatrical cockiness in her voice this time. 

“I can see that,” said McCree with a chuckle.

“Zenyatta was kind enough to lend us a book to read,” said Hanzo.

“Really?” said Jesse, “Because you can’t get over your grudge against Little Lamby Lambkins?”

“Ha-ha,” said Hanzo drily, “No, this one is more... educational. If you want, I could get started on dinner while you take over.”

“Oh well you know I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” said McCree, taking his hat off before looking at Rei, “What do you think, Sunshine? You wanna read that book to me?”

 Rei excitedly gasped and bounced over to McCree’s side of the couch, shuffling her shoulders a little as she pushed under his arm and flipped the book back open.

Freedom, thought Hanzo with a slight smile, pushing up from the couch.

 McCree noticed the relative thickness of the book, but had assumed it was some kind of large board book, but as Rei turned the page, his brow crinkled with concern.

“Omnicode cipher one-one-eight Delta-C underscore one is for... Life,” Rei read, as McCree looked over the illustration of an omnic in some kind of farmer’s outfit looking fondly at a butterfly in its metal hand, while framed by greenery filled with more butterflies, birds, and flowers. “Omnicode cipher one-one-eight Delta-C underscore two is for life, sue--”

“’uh’ sound,” said McCree.

“Suuuhh-Sub-c-c-aaate---”

“Sub-cat-eg-or-ee,” said McCree, pointing at different sections of the word with his finger.

“Subcattergory,” Rei said, “Nuh-on-orr-gan-ick. Subcattergory Nonorganic!”

“Great job, kiddo,” said McCree, trying to will up the mental energy to correct her on the pronunciation of ‘Subcategory’ but at the same time it was well within her own half-Swiss-German, half-Japanese quirks of speaking.

“What’s nonorganic?” said Rei.

“...Zen’s nonorganic,” said McCree after a few seconds of thought.

“No, Master Zenyatta’s Omnic,” Rei corrected.

“That, too,” said McCree smiling a little. Rei seemed satisfied with this and kept reading.

“Omnicode cipher one-one-eight Delta-C underscore three is for life, subcattergory... Non?” she looked at McCree.

“Non,” said McCree, nodding.

“Non-sen-tee-ent life,” said Rei, “What’s ‘nonsentient?’”

Someone’s going to have to break it to Zenyatta that this is a terrible easy-to-read book, thought Hanzo, rinsing some rice off in the sink.

“Nonsentient means uh... like... plants? Like... living things but... they don’t uhh... think?”  McCree’s voice trailed off a little helplessly. 

“Like Junkrat?” said Rei.

“Well, no, Junkrat thinks... allegedly,” said McCree, “They’re talking about more like... uh... mushrooms and stuff. Mushrooms are alive, y’know?”

“Mushrooms...” Rei repeated thoughtfully.

“Hey sunshine?” said McCree.

“Yeah?” said Rei.

“Is uh... is the whole book like this?” McCree was trying to keep a smile up but his brow was crinkling.

“Uh huh!” said Rei.

“Do you wanna maybe... switch to an easier book?” McCree rubbed the back of his neck.

“But Master Zenyatta gave me this one! We have to finish it!” said Rei, clearly offended. 

“Okay, all right, we can keep goin’...” said McCree with a shrug.

Rei turned the page and started reading again. “Omnicode Cipher One-one-eight---”

As Rei read, McCree’s head swung around to look at the kitchen, where Hanzo was serenely slicing some onion. Jesse summoned his best, ‘I miscalculated, please help me, I love you’ face. Hanzo paused only momentarily to look up to meet his gaze and gave Jesse the smuggest, most cat-like, shit-eating ‘Suffer’ grin. There was a glint of ‘Oh you bastard’ in McCree’s eyes before he turned his attention to Rei, now struggling through the Omnicode cipher for the Turing test and its later variants. And of course he had to explain to her what a Turing test was. And the variants.

Hanzo let Rei’s chatter and hesitant sounding-out of syllables, and McCree’s stilted murmuring explanations fade to background noise as he fell into the motions of cooking. He wasn’t sure if it was ten or 15 minutes that had passed, but the savory smells of onion simmering in dashi filled the kitchen and lingered with rice cooker steam when McCree’s voice hoarsely drifted over.

“Hanzo--You gotta help me.”

“Mm?” Hanzo glanced up, turned down the heat on the stove, and toweled off his hands as he headed out of the kitchen to the living room. Rounding around the couch, he saw that Rei was asleep, one arm strung tight around McCree’s waist and her face smooshed against McCree’s side.

“She conked out around Omnicode cipher something-something epsilon. She’s like a vice,” McCree whispered.

“Mm-hmm,” said Hanzo, pulling his phone out of his pocket and opening the camera.

“Don’t just take pictures, help me out of this!” McCree hissed.

“Can you pretend to be asleep? It’s cuter that way,” said Hanzo, adjusting the lighting on the camera.

“I am not gonna pretend to be asleep, just so you can---” McCree heard the beep of the camera prepping and closed his eyes and relaxed his head slightly as Hanzo took the picture.

“You will and you did,” said Hanzo, tapping at his phone’s screen.

“That was for the doc and Genji and you know it,” muttered McCree.

“Mm-hmm,” said Hanzo, gently adjusting the lighting on the photo he had just taken and briefly puzzling over adding a ‘hearts and sparkles’ filter before deciding against it.

“...this is where all the displaced Yakuza boss evil goes, isn’t it?” said McCree.

“You love it,” said Hanzo, posting the photo to the family group chat.

“Mark me, Hanzo, had it not been for our 5 year old biotic mutant ninja niece currently threatening to break one of my ribs I would have cussed you out by now.”

“She’s not a mutant and she’s not going to break your ribs,” said Hanzo, bending and crisply kissing McCree on the temple before heading back into the kitchen.

“You don’t know that. I could be in danger right now.”

“Dinner’s in another 10 minutes,” Hanzo said airily from the kitchen.

“Save me, Han.”

“No.”

[im-the-punk-who]

Hi! I’m new to the fandom and I’m simply curious (not trying to start a feud or anything), why don’t you like Steinberg?

Hello dear anon! And welcome to the fandom! 

Oof. That’s a question. xD 

I’m going to try and stay as uh. neutral as possible. Because I’ve already written the post I know I failed but, the intent in answering this is also not to start a feud or hurt anyone’s feelings. 

Okay, so I got fairly negative in this chilis tonight, so I want to start by saying that even in light of the opinions I’m about to express, Black Sails is one of, if not my number one, favorite TV shows of all time. Certainly in recent memory - I’ve been hyperfixating on this show for 18 months with no sign of stopping, and I have a tremendous amount of respect for everyone who worked on the show - even Steinberg. (The one exclusion is Michael Bay, he can go twist.)

AND I think Stienberg is an incredibly talented writer. Black Sails is one of my favorite shows because it does such a wonderful job of weaving stories, creating characters, and melding things in a way that is both unexpected and makes sense narratively. I have changed as a person because of the show, and they will have to pry James McGraw and Thomas Hamilton from my cold dead knives-attached-to-them hands. None of what I’m going to say is meant to detract from that.

I will also say that a lot of these issues are not particular to Steinberg and are in fact a systemic problem with American TV + Film. And I’m not leaving Robert Levine out of my criticism, it’s just that Steinberg had the biggest hand in the pot(he wrote a full half the episodes) and a lot of what I’ve heard as far as talking about the show comes from Steinberg. So, he gets the brunt. But it isn’t that I think Steinberg was the only problematic element of the show. 

Also, these are all my opinions and are colored by how I interact with my fandoms. I am not only a fandom veteran, but I work and pretty much live in the entertainment industry. I work in indie film and theatre and am surrounded by artists and creators of all walks of life, like, constantly. I know what is possible, and when I see something that can be improved, I want to note it because it is important to me to always be striving forward. Like Miranda says about Thomas, this isn’t out of malice, or out of hate. It’s because I genuinely love this show, and I love entertainment as a whole, and I think in order to get to a better, more inclusive industry we have to have hard conversations and look critically at the media we consume, and it is frustrating to me to time and again see the same faces in the room. 

But if that isn’t your cuppa, that’s fine! Fandom isn’t meant to be stressful and if all you want to do is watch a show about gay pirates that is your tomato and I applaud you. Have at it you funky motherfucker.

OH! One more. At some point I’m going to talk about Silverflint. When I do, it is NOT meant as a ‘you shouldn’t/cant ship this’ or ‘this pairing is bad’ or any negative attack on the people who ship that pairing. My criticisms in this post are exclusively about what it means for Steinberg as a writer and Black Sails’ representation of gay and mlm men. While it’s not my cuppa, this is a sail your own ship blog. 

OKAY! SO! 

My main criticisms of Steinberg & Co boil down to:

The homozygosity of the writers and directors shows a complete lack of desire to include marginalized people in the writing of a show that is about them. Which leads to:

The centering of white men while choosing a historical setting and time period that was in fact dominated by people of color and specifically a black woman, 

The gratuitous inclusion of violence against women, particularly sexual violence, and again, that the female characters are often sidelined for the central male characters. 

SO.

Black Sails is a show centered around queer, female, and black leads, and yet there were only two non white-male directors (one bi-racial man and one white woman) and only 7 female writers - one of whom was Latina. The entire rest of the major creative staff was white men. I’m not going to comment on sexualities but none of the writers or directors are out as queer according to a quick google search. 

Let me reiterate the important bit there. 

In Black Sails, where the last two seasons specifically feature around a real, actually-happened-in-history event that shaped black history in the Caribbean, there was not a single black writer on the entire show. 

This is the main difference between inclusion for inclusion’s sake, and actually centering marginalized voices. Black Sails has a ton of gay, POC, and female rep in front of the camera but practically zero representation behind it, which leads to storylines and implications that Steinberg and his writers, as white men, simply would never realize.

It’s like why Silver and Miranda never realized the true reasons James was waging war on England. They just did not have the life experiences to realize they were missing a piece of the puzzle, and so they filled in their own without even realizing they’d done so. 

Because no one in the room of Black Sails was a part of these marginalized identities, nuances get lost or mistranslated, motivations get muddled through a white man’s gaze(or a straight person’s) and implications that someone within those communities might think is obvious won’t even come up.

And again, because there were no writers or directors of color in the last two seasons (the biracial man directed episodes 2x02 and 2x04 - WHICH MAKES SENSE IMO) the entirety of the historical lore that the show bases itself on in its latter half is filtered through a white man’s lens. And so there is no discussion of how changing something changes the meaning, how leaving someone out or changing their role to be more minor might affect people for whom that is their heritage. How the entire story they’re telling might change with one simple exclusion or addition.

So, how does this relate directly to Steinberg, you ask? Well, simply, because it was his show. 

Steinberg(and Levine) were involved in every major decision about the show, from its conception, to the script, to choosing the writers and directors. They chose how they wanted the show to look, to think, what stories to tell and how they wanted to tell them. Their decisions(and the biases that formed those decisions) are woven into the show.

And look. I don’t for a second believe any of this was willful or malicious. I don’t think that John Steinberg and Robert Levine sat down one day and said ‘you know what would make the gays really angry? If we locked the only two canonically gay men up in a prison camp.’

But the decisions that were made in the show were based in ignorance in a way that shows more than just simple negligence or laziness(especially given the attention to detail in everything else). The things they leave out or change in the Maroon War plotline for instance are not small details easily missed. They are big, giant waving flags. They are things that are irreplaceable to still have the same events and stories and tell them respectfully. 

It shows an insane amount of privilege to, for instance, write a show airing during a time when the Black Lives Matter movement was at the forefront of the American conscience, include black characters and black storylines, and yet not include a single black voice on their creative team. 

In a show that centers a gay man’s love and his journey in attempting to process the horrible things done to him and his lover because of it, we are given just forty minutes of the entire show dedicated to their relationship - and just fifteen of those minutes actually feature the lover! 

(Relatedly, the entirety of the gay romantic rep is two kisses, and a forehead touch. That’s the entirety of your gay intimacy representation. And yet there are in the first two seasons alone - because that’s all I’ve clocked so far - something like twenty seven minutes of scenes involving a naked or half naked woman. Five minutes of that is explicitly wlw sex.

Again, I just want to reiterate this because it’s important in recognizing bias. 

There is fully twice as much female nudity in the first two seasons, as the entirety of the time the two gay characters have together on screen. )

Steinberg is a perfect example of how a lack of understanding why the diversity you are representing is important, matters. I dislike Steinberg because he, just like every other straight white cis man I have known, profited off of marginalized voices without including them or creating with them in mind.

Art does not exist in a vacuum. You cannot create something - especially something as back breakingly, intensely a labor of love as Black Sails - without putting several pieces of yourself into it. But those pieces color your narrative. They will expose things about you that you don’t even realize. And it’s in these places we are weakest, and why a diverse group of writers with a diverse group of experiences can help a piece be stronger. But for whatever reason, John Steinberg thought that he could make art with only people who looked and thought and experienced like him. 

The lack of representation behind the camera in Black Sails was evident in front of it and yet Steinberg is out here getting to pretend like he created the most inclusive groundbreaking show that ever existed. It is important to me, personally, to acknowledge that. And that it kind of makes my skin crawl in the way all media made by straight white (cis)men makes my skin crawl. I wish I didn’t have to feel that way about my favorite tv show just because it was created by a man of privilege, but here we are.

SO. I hope that helped? Feel free to take what you want and leave what you don’t! 

Below the cut is a more in depth look at things that I think show what I’m talking about, but that up there ^^ is the gist. <3 |D

SURPRISE!

The Maroons and the Maroon War

So the first thing I want to point out is that the Maroon War was a real thing that happened. It lasted ten years, and resulted in the most substantial victory the Maroons ever achieved against the British. Not only that, there was in fact a KICKIN’ badass female leader of the maroons named Queen Nanny, who is to this day honored as a national hero in Jamaica. While they weren’t able to drive the British out, the outcome of this war led to a mostly self-governing Maroon population in Jamaica from the mid 1700s on. This was a long term fight that had a very tangible and real outcome, even if it didn’t end in the destruction of colonialism. 

And what is this war turned into in Black Sails? A white ‘madman’s revenge’  that is doomed to failure after six months.

That, my dear pirates, is a problem for me. (And those familiar with my brand of spiceyness know that I do not ascribe to the ‘Flint is a Madman’ trope, but that IS what Steinberg ascribes to, what he seems to have written the show thinking.) 

There was no narrative reason to include the Maroon War in the narrative of Black Sails. The Maroon War didn’t happen until a decade after the Golden Age of Piracy, and aside from Silver’s wife being a black woman there is no mention of Silver ever having contact with them. To me, this feels like the choice of a showrunner who found a cool historical event and saw a chance to up the stakes of their white male heroes while getting in some sweet sweet POC rep. 

Except that they then took the major events of the Maroon War and gave them to their white characters, Flint and Silver. 

Here’s the thing. If you’re going to take a piece of culturally important history and use it for your show, you NEED to have sensitivity writers. You need to have people who are at least familiar with those events and who care about them to do them justice. Have an expert come in and read your script or go over your ideas. Or just like. Hire a black writer. Hire ONE black writer. As a treat.

The important Maroon figures, Nanny, Cudjoe, and Quao, all get sidelined or ‘sexified’ and then used as plot points for the white characters. Nanny gets split into two women - the older mother queen and Madi, the young naive warbent visionary. Quao(Mr. Scott is the closest, or Kofi possibly) gets killed off because the writers realized they didn’t exactly have a place for him in their writing. Cudjoe(Julius) gets a few scenes and one good speech but his entire role in the war gets given to Silver. And THEN. That sexy Queen Madi figure gets used as emotional bait for Silver and then has to learn he has betrayed her and destroyed the hope and freedom she had wanted to bring to her people. 

Gross, pirates. Gross.

Anne Bonny/Max/Mary Read - a heads up, this section includes a semi in-depth discussion of both Max and Anne’s sexual assaults. If that bothers you, the paragraphs talking about that begin with a ***

COOL NOW LET’S TALK ABOUT LESBIANS. Words my 20 year old self would never have imagined coming out of my mouth. 

Specifically, I want to talk about Max, and Anne, and their backstories both involving extreme sexual trauma at the hands of men. And then Mary Read and the once again sexification of female characters.

(Actually while I’m here another criticism I have of Steinberg is that his writing does not seem to recognize how queer people existed in the past - again, likely because he didn’t have any gay historians to be like ‘actually buddy that doesn’t make sense also why is Anne not dressing as a man? If you want to fuck with anything and insert modern day terminology and ideas into this show, make her non binary and REALLY piss off the hetties.’)

(This same ficitonal gay dramaturg who is definitely not me has also questioned John Steinberg repeatedly about where Mary Read is, unsatisfied with the answer ‘well we wanted her to be hot so we made her a sex worker and then had Anne have to rescue her but then we realized it would be weird not to include her actual character so we gave her a five second cameo at the very end of the series and also made her like 13.’)

Anyway! So my main point in bringing up Anne and Max is the sexual trauma they are exposed to in the show, particularly being that they are the two primary wlw in the show, who Steinberg has said he views as being completely gay, and what THAT whole unexamined idea looks like. 

***Max. My dear Max. There was literally no reason to have her be repeatedly r*ped(and for the love of god there was even less reason to make it that gratuitous and graphic). Max being assaulted like that did not add anything to the gravity of Eleanor’s betrayal. The traumatic event was being tossed aside by Eleanor, and that could have been just as emotionally damaging without the sexual assault. And the only reason for her to be continually assaulted was to bring her and Anne together. 

***The reason imo that Max’s r*pe plot was added was because it was the only thing these white straight men could come up with that felt emotionally damaging enough to them. The act of betrayal itself wasn’t enough, the act of being thrown away, of having a lover put your life in danger because of her own ambitions wasn’t enough, they needed her to be r*ped to really drive home the point. 

***Anne, on the other hand, is never shown being sexually abused, but we are given an explicit account of her own traumatic history and how Jack saved her from this vile beast who was passing her around to his friends.

But here’s the thing pirates - that never happened. According to every account we have of Anne Bonny, she chose her husband, and married him against her father’s wishes. They were probably relatively happy until her husband started being a pirate spy and Anne started cheating on him with Jack. 

And yes, when they were found out. Her husband had her beat. That’s not fucking cool, and if they really wanted to go the damsel in distress route they still could have had Jack ‘save’ her from that. But at no point was she sexually abused by her husband(at least not in any accounts I’ve read.) 

You know who did likely sexually abuse her or at least manipulate her and Mary for his own benefit? If you guessed our Rat man Jack Rackham, you would be correct, because when he found out about Mary and Anne’s (supposed, but probably real) relationship, it’s implied he extorted both of them into fucking him to keep their secret from the crew. 

The addition of sexual abuse to Anne’s past isn’t done to be true to her character and was in fact explicitly untrue. Now of course I don’t know the reasons why they chose to do this, but I can guess. Just as with Max, the most traumatic thing a male writer can think of for a female character is for them to be sexually abused.

And the most disturbing part of this to me? The parallels it has to the real world of why straight men think lesbians exist. These characters who would be called man haters in present day are given these incredibly traumatic man-centered histories. It brings up something very uncomfortable in me about particularly wlw sexuality being viewed as a reaction to trauma at the hands of men. It’s just gross, I dont like it, and honestly there is no fucking excuse for it besides a room full of white straight men writing this bullshit. A room that Steinberg chose, because they fit his ideas.

In Fact heck, the women of Black Sails in general

***I honestly struggle to think of a single female character who I think was treated fairly in Black Sails. Miranda and Eleanor are killed for taking sides and not understanding their partners, Madi is betrayed in the worst way possible, Max is given a pseudo empowering ending but has that fucking terrible start. Idelle ends off fairly well, but tied to a man she may or may not have any actual feelings for, in what is essentially a political marriage. And Anne has her entire identity tied to a man who will be dead in two years as she is robbed of any agency whatsoever without him. (Oh, and the whole r*pe thing. And also her support for Max’s r*pe or death until she started having fee-fees. Who wrote this stuff. >_>)

Even though the characterization of each and every one of these women is PHENOMENAL - and again I will repeat that I absolutely LOVE these characters as they exist in a vacuum. I think they are well rounded, real, feeling people given motivations and drives and FEELINGS and they SHOW THEIR ANGER and i LOVE THEM. 

But the show punishes them for it. Miranda is essentially fridged to move Flint’s storyline along, and to make room for Silver. Eleanor is killed for the emotional damage it will cause Rogers. Madi is placed at the center of a conflict she explicitly says she is willing to die for and then not only is her entire cause taken from her, but when she tells Silver to fuck off he - in possibly the most predictable white man move ever - says ‘no i will stay until you change your mind. I will never leave you. I don’t care about your choice in this matter, I will wait forever for you. I’m your biggest fan. I’ll follow you until you love me. papa, - paparazzi.’ 

And I touched on this before, but I want to talk in more detail about what is possibly my hottest take to date, the sexification of Mary Read and Queen Nanny, as they are presented in the show. 

Max is to Anne what Mary Read is, historically. She is the lover that Jack Rackham discovers with Anne, and then he joins them in their bed. They form a triumvirate that upholds Jack at the expense of the women. But for some reason, Steinberg didn’t want to just include Mary Read as an actual character. For some reason he needed to make Anne’s love interest a sex worker who was in need of saving (and who, coincidentally, we never see working the brothel after she becomes lovers with Anne, because she is now a madam. :) Gross.)

And Madi. My dear sweet fucking Madi who didn’t fucking deserve any of this bullshit send tweet. 

So, historically, Queen Nanny was the Queen, spiritual advisor, and the military tactician of the Windward Maroons. She would have filled both Madi and the Queen’s character roles(and Flint’s, but who’s counting. A BLACK GAY LEAD? Inconceivable. I digress.) But, I guess, because they were wishy-washing with Silver’s sexuality or felt they needed to give him a female love interest because of Treasure Island, or because they were leaning a bit too hard into the gay shit and needed to backpedal, they took Queen Nanny and split her into a character who is for all intents and purposes powerless in the war and Madi, who is young and naive and does not have any real world experience outside of the Maroon camp.

Because that’s sexy, or something. They could have had the Maroon Queen be a fucking badass lady who works and fights alongside Flint and Silver and one ups them and teaches them shit and has her own ideas about where the British can stick it, but instead they made her into the perfect caricature of a female monarch, letting the big strong men handle the dirty work or something. Because white male power fantasies. 

Just let women be powerful and not nubile and let them have character arcs over fucking thirty and let them be CENTERED in their own. fucking. narratives. 

God damnit Steinberg.

James Flint, mlm extraordinaire

Oh, my love. My most amazing child. The light of my life. My purest cinnamon roll. 

~~And now we’ve come to the dreaded Silverflint criticism part of our programming. Please please know and remember this isn’t a criticism of people who ship Silverflint. As I said up top, Your Tomato Is Not My Tomato and that’s cool. Please don’t take this next part as an attack on Silverflint as a fandom ship.~~

My criticism of Steinberg as it relates to Flint is related to:

What a romantic/sexual relationship with Silver being the basis of the tension and plot means for Flint in particular as a gay or mostly mlm man. 

Refusing to confirm Thomas and James being alive at the end and honestly the whole finale in general but like I’ll try and focus.

The major problem I have with Silver and Flint being coded as in love with each other is the implications there in terms of gay men’s relationships to other men. 

From every corner, men are inundated with the idea that any close relationship between them must be gay. That intimacy cannot exist unless there are sexual feelings involved. That a relationship cannot be close, deep and soul shattering and life altering, unless one guy secretly(or not so secretly) wants to bone the other dude. That two men cannot value each other as partners or friends or truly know each other unless they are gay.

Seeing both of the meaningful relationships Flint forms with other men be sexually coded feels a bit the same way as Anne and Max’s sexual assault plotlines does vis-a-vis being wlw. (Even with Gates, Flint never spoke about Thomas or his plans - Silver is absolutely the closest person to Flint besides Thomas and Miranda.) And this is just as true for Silver. Having both Flint and Madi - the two people he trusts - both be people he’s in love with also just feels. I don’t know. 

It feels like a confusion between male intimacy and male love that is so so familiar to me as a gay man I could choke on it. Where they wanted these men to have a deep and really lasting connection, but could only figure out how to do it if they were in love. Friendship wouldn’t have been enough - only romantic and sexual love is enough for the gay man(or men, at all).

Just because it isn’t queerbaiting doesn’t mean it’s good rep, and I would have liked to see truly deep male friendships that did not center on sexual attraction - particularly for Flint as a confirmed mlm(and Silver too, if you’re counting him. The same arguments for why I dislike Flint being paired with Silver are also true in the reverse.) 

Even if both Flint and Silver were confirmed mlm I still would have LOVED to see a platonic relationship between them. In fact I would have loved that EVEN MORE. Men! Who fuck men! Not needing to fuck each other to be important to one another! Who made this. Very delicious. 

But because there weren’t any queer writers on the show, writers who understand this kind of struggle that gay and mlm men face, they thought ‘oh, let’s also have them be in love with each other. More gay rep is better gay rep, right?’ False. THOUGHTFUL gay rep is better gay rep.

Okay and here’s my last thing. The fact that Steinberg refuses to say whether or not the explicitly mlm men are alive at the end of the show - that the words he specifically uses are ‘up for interpretation’ is. Fuck, it’s gross, okay? It’s fucking gross. 

I have been around enough men, enough people in power, enough people with leverage who also know how to play the field, to know that when someone wants a group’s support but does not agree with them, their go to phrasing is that it is ‘up for debate’ or ‘up for interpretation.’

Say the gays are alive. Steinberg refusing to acknowledge the reality of the ending of his show to maintain his own sense of artistic integrity is what, honestly, really sets me off about him and I don’t care if this is a nuanced take.

Like yes, death of the author. I honestly don’t care if he thinks they’re dead or alive. What I care about is that he thinks he can get away with being clever and leaning hard into a story is true/untrue’ - doesn’t realize what the implications of that are, and didn’t when he was writing, and didn’t have anyone else in the room who would think about it either. 

ANYWAY. So this is....my long drawn out explanation for why I do not like Steinberg. Uhhhhh tune in next week for more of my totally unpopular opinions!

[cousinwingding97]

Silver Memories

Chapter Four: New Plan

Warning: Description of violence.

Realized this did not upload in the format I was hoping for at first. 😭 Sorry about that assault on your eyes. Hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Mando stayed with you throughout your entire episode, gently caressing your scars absentmindedly while whispering in another language to you. Your shaking body finally calmed enough for you to breathe normally. The tears dried and you had enough strength to pat Mando’s arm to get him to notice you were ready for him to leave while you freshened up.

He did so immediately, without making you feel like he was trying to peek at anything. Despite his actions and his words about the memory, you were shaken to the core. He still could’ve been lying, but your mind was at war. The feeling of security would not leave; yet, the violence in his voice in your memory sent chills down your spine. He may have done something and now you were temporary allies. Or maybe you were allies because of your lack of memories. You had no idea. Boba had said not to trust anyone without your memories and despite your dislike of the man, you were inclined to agree with him.

You stepped into the shower and let the scalding water burn your skin. The pain helped you focus on the now. I am in a shower and safe. The water feels good to my bones and I am safe. That’s all that matters in this moment.

The steam fogged the fresher, but your mind was clearer now. You would be flying by the seat of your pants from now on. That’s all you could do. One day at a time.

You found no clean clothes, so you grabbed the towel to dry off as best you could and threw on the white ones from Pollis Massa and the cloak. At least your body was a little warmer now.

———————————————————————

You stood in the hold of the ship, waiting for something to click in your mind to tell you what to do now that you were by yourself. You assumed Mando and Boba were up top in the cockpit flying you back to Pollis Massa; truthfully, you did not want to go up there and talk to either of them at the moment, but the thought of being alone with your thoughts was not an attractive option considering how your mind was finally feeling clearer to you. So, up the ladder you went to see if you could at least find some form of human interaction with them.

You should’ve known better. These men were deathly quiet. They didn’t even look at you as you entered the cockpit. You knew they heard you, yet they did not acknowledge your presence. You didn’t bother talking to them, not knowing how they would take it. You wanted to ask questions though. These men knew the past you. They knew and had deemed it necessary not to tell you anything. You fidgeted with nerves, the questions rolling through your mind one after the other. You opened your mouth multiple times to ask something, but promptly shut it not knowing how much information you would get.

“What is it you want to ask?” Mando inquired. He must have sensed the endless questions in your mind. Unknown to you, he had heard your start of questions multiple times with your mouth opening and promptly shutting with a clack of your teeth through the the enhanced hearing of his helmet.

You tried to think of the question you wanted answered the most. There were so many.

“Who am I?” You blurted out finally.

“You’re going to have to narrow that down, little one. He can’t answer your whole backstory without giving you another panic attack. Your head has to sort it out. Too much information and it won’t be able to handle it,” Boba interjected before Mando could say a word.

You stared daggers into the back of his head. Sure, he may have experience with memory loss according to Mando, but did he have any true idea? The humiliation of relying on others when you should be able to piece together everything yourself was beyond irritating.

As if sensing your anger, Boba turned his seat to face you, “You may not like my input, girl, but it is for your own benefit. You think your fit down there was bad? If Mando tells you the wrong thing or too much it could shut your brain down permanently from the trauma. Your brain is trying to heal on its own. Give it time and we’ll see if those at Pollis Massa can help. If not, then it’s up to you and your brain. So, be angry all you want. It won’t help you one way or another.”

“Easy for you to say when you have all your memories and a purpose,” you snarled back.

“You aren’t listening. Mando can’t give them to you. You’ve got to learn and heal. Until then, try to refrain from asking.”

Mando turned towards you now, “Runi, it’s for the best. Boba Fett’s right. I can’t answer everything. It truly is for the best. We’ll figure it out together.”

“You said you can’t answer everything, but can you answer some things?” You couldn’t help the spark of hope that lit your face and ran through your body with a warming glow.

Mando looked to Boba with the silent question and Boba just shrugged in response, “We’ll see. If you want to ask, go for it. I won’t answer you if it seems like a bad idea.”

You nodded your head excitedly since you would take anything at this point. Boba’s advice of not trusting anyone until you got your memories back still echoed in your mind, so you figured clarity would be best to discover if you could trust these two or not.

“Who are you?”

The Mandalorian froze with unnatural stillness. Boba snorted with amusement, but they were silent.

“Oh come on! You can at least start from the beginning. I don’t know you, so pretend it’s the first time meeting me.”

He thought it over and decided to play along, “I’m a Mandalorian.”

You groan in frustration and drop your hands onto your hips to further show you annoyance, “You do realize that means nothing to me and I don’t know what that is, right?”

Mando clears his throat in discomfort, “Sorry, usually people know us by reputation.” He shifts in his seat and fully faces you, “I live by a Creed. The Creed of Mandalorians is a serious one. We live in secret, train from a young age, and defend our people. We are a warrior clan. Our Creed never allows us to reveal our faces in order to maintain the secrecy of our identities to keep us safe. We used to live on Mandalore, a planet in the Outer Rim before it was destroyed by the Empire, so we have adapted. Learned to be bounty hunters, protectors, mercenaries. Whatever it took to survive.”

You have a lot of questions. So many more to add on to what you already have in your head. You blurt out the first one, “So you’ve never taken your helmet off? Is that why both of you keep wearing them all the time?”

“Easy there, princess. I’m not a Mandalorian like him,” Boba interjects, “I’m just a simple man making his way through the universe. Following my father’s footsteps and his ways. He was a Mandalorian and I wear this to honor him.”

“So, why don’t you take your helmet off? Is it against your rules?”

Boba doesn’t hesitate and reaches his fingers under the helmet. It comes off with a hiss and he turns to face you. His face is scarred. He has no hair, he is more tan than you would’ve expected for someone wearing armor all the time, but his face seems set to a permanent scowl. He looks scarier without the helmet. Not because of the scars but because of the eyes. His eyes look dead, emotionless. You can’t stare at them for long. You choose to look anywhere on his face, but his eyes.

“I wear it because people are intimidated by what they can’t read. What they don’t know, they fear. It has nothing to do with a creed. Just plain business tactics.”

These men were truly strange. You had no idea why they needed to be anymore intimidating than they already were. They look like they could break your bones with fairly little effort. They also sounded like they were in a cult, which was definitely disturbing to you.

“Then why can’t you take your helmet off, Mando? Besides secrecy. If you never take it off then don’t you just become just a Mandalorian and never the man underneath? Like how is it a secret if you just become it?”

He cocks his head to the side in thought. He’s silent for awhile trying to come up with an answer when he finally comes up with a simple answer, “This is the way. Spouses of Mandalorians can reveal their faces, but no one else needs to see it.”

You aren’t convinced. This just sounds like an excuse, “So your spouse has seen your face?”

He coughs and sputters out, “Uh no, I’m not... I’m not married.”

“So what if you die without anyone seeing your face? You’ll be unknown? What if someone takes it off forcibly? Are you still a Mandalorian?”

Boba Fett just sighs, “Look, you asking more questions about the Mandalorian isn’t going to help you. I’m tired of hearing your questions. You aren’t getting anything but more questions. I don’t see this getting anywhere except on my nerves. You should just rest.” With that he puts his helmet on and turns away from you.

You want to be angry, but you can’t help but feel like he’s right. The introduction left you more puzzled than you already were about these men. Now there was a whole culture involved on top of the backstories for both them and you. It was a lot to process and your body was weak from your earlier episode. You were cold too still in the wraparound cloak and thin clothes. The thought of relaxing under warm blankets on a soft bed was tantalizingly tempting to your weary body. You left the cockpit without argument in search of comfort in warmth. It did sound like Mando and Boba started speaking to each other quietly behind you as you left, but you didn’t bother trying to pick out any words.

Before you could even explore, there were footsteps behind you. Mando followed you from the cockpit. His cape was in his hands instead of on his back, you noticed. He was wringing it in his hands nervously. He reached you and held it out, offering it to you, “You’re probably freezing.”

As if in response, your body shivered as you brushed his gloved hands to take it. “I am actually. I was thinking of trying to find somewhere to sleep actually. I haven’t properly rested on a real bed for awhile. Well, besides the hospital.” You take his cloak and wrap it around you, easing the chill that you hadn’t realized has set in your bones. Thankfully, the cloak was soft and smelled good. Pine, maybe? It smelled like the silver armor of Mando’s and woods. It was relaxing to your mind. Faintly familiar.

“I’m afraid Boba Fett doesn’t believe in comfort. Even if it is for himself.” He vaguely gestures to the ship and you look around seeing just how sterile everything is. Not a single thing that would reveal anything about the person that owned it. Just metal and cold. Much like the man flying it. “He has a very uncomfortable cot he hardly uses and only lets guests use it if they aren’t bounties. I figured the cloak might help a little too besides...” he waves his hand over your figure, “your thin hospital clothes.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t find anything else besides this cloak on Utapau. I appreciate the extra warmth, thank you, Mando.” He nods once in acknowledgement and silence falls on you two. It’s uncomfortable. This man, who is supposed to be a fearsome warrior, bounty hunter is nervous and fidgety around you and it makes you nervous. You try to break the silence with literally anything.

“What’s your full name? Not just the Mando part.”

“Huh?” His attention is now laser focused on you in disbelief, “My name? People call me Mando, but it’s not my name.”

“Oh. I thought since you were Mandalorian, you had a last name to differentiate between all of you. Sorry.”

“No, no you’re fine. I mean, you’re re-learning practically everything. Unfortunately, my name is a secret as well as my face.”

“So, what did I know about you? Anything? You said we were allies, maybe even friends, but it sounds like I know about the same information now as I did then.” The continuous lack of answers is infuriating. Why even bother talking to them if they aren’t going to tell me anything?

Mando matches your frustration with his own, “Why did you leave Pollis Massa if you’re so desperate for information? You were safe there!”

“I thought you guys were the bad guys! All I saw was everyone shooting other people, hanging out with bounty hunters and apparently upsetting the new form of government! I thought about staying, but all I saw was all of you at each other’s throats! What was I supposed to think? All everyone had told me made it sound like Mandalorians are the scariest bunch you don’t want to mess with, so excuse me for being wary!”

“We helped you escape from your cell! You were literally locked up when we found you! And hurt! Does that sound like the hands you want to be in?”

“For all I know, they were trying to help me! You guys didn’t exactly look like the nice rescuing type! All of you looked like emotionless droids armed to the teeth just waiting to kill everything in your path! That doesn’t inspire confidence and from what I saw, you all desperately want to fight all the time!”

Mando doesn’t respond. Without him even saying anything, you know that you messed up somewhere. Just not really sure where or how, but you could swear you feel his anger in your own soul. It overpowers your anger and makes you feel worse for pushing him to this.

He steps closer to you, crowding your space. The armor may be cold, but the heat radiating off of him is scorching you. You take steps back, but there’s only the hull of the ship behind you with its cold biting into your back and now cold armor biting into your front. You can’t look at the black visor staring into the depths of your soul. You don’t know why, your only guess is his reaction, but you feel guilt about something you said. This whole argument feels pointless now.

“Is that all we are? Emotionless because of our helmets? You think we are just murder bots coming to kill and destroy whatever we find? You acted like you knew better when I asked if you remembered me, but if that’s what you truly think, then I won’t hurt your head trying to get you to remember otherwise.” His voice is level the entire time, never shouting, but so cold. When he walks away, you catch your breath you had been holding and somehow, his lack of presence makes his icy words that much worse. You don’t have memories to go to in order to block out the noise of what just happened, so his words are so loud in your head. Berating, cutting, throbbing in your mind.

With tear filled eyes, you eventually find the sleeping quarters and shut the door behind you. Mando wasn’t kidding when he said Boba had lack of comforts. The cot was thin and firm. Like sleeping on a wooden plank. Not that you felt like sleeping.

The argument keeps playing through your head. It’s extremely unfair of him to be mad at me when I don’t even know if I’m insulting someone. I shouldn’t have been so angry, but he could cut me some slack.

You quietly cry in the confines of Boba’s room with Mando’s cloak wrapped tightly around you.

———————————————————————

Sleep was elusive. The anger, pain and sorrow still battered your soul. The ceiling became the most interesting thing to your eyes. You had counted every bolt, seen every shadow and the shapes they made. The grey tones of the ship started blending together with the tears in your eyes to make a stormy scene above you. A part of you could still feel the residual anger from Mando deep in your heart and focusing on that emotion kept you from falling too deep into a depressive state, and the sleep that your body desired.

You couldn’t understand how you could literally feel what he had felt in that moment. Nor the way you could feel the sense of safety that had drudged up from locked memories. It crowded out your own emotions. Your anger had been small compared to the insult he had felt. You were just mad at the lack of answers that they were giving you without even seeming to care that you were drowning in a body that didn’t feel like your own.

The ship lurched slightly with the suddenness of exiting hyperspace. You could feel the thrumming of the engines whine down. Since you had nothing better to do, you sat up and exited the room. Perhaps Pollis Massa will unlock my memories and I can move on with my life.

Slave I landed with a thud and the hatch opened leading to one of the landing platforms you had seen last time you were here. Boba and Mando descended from the ladder and you waited for them to lead the way. Mando took the lead, but Boba stayed on by the exit. You stopped and looked at him wondering why he wasn’t following.

Mando turned when he didn’t hear your footsteps following. When he saw you staring at Boba, he walked back up, “Boba isn’t coming with us. Let’s go,” he reached to grab your hand, but you turned back to Boba Fett, effectively keeping your hand out of his reach.

“Why aren’t you coming with us?”

He leveled his gaze at you, “I have business on Tatooine. A new business deal. I’ve already lost more time than I would like on this adventure. Now go on, you need to get going. You’ll be in my way otherwise.”

This time you felt a hand grab your arm leading you off the ship, a filtered voice sounded right by your ear, “I appreciate the help. Good luck with your venture.” The Mandalorian helmets nodded to each other and both turned away without another word.

You finally wrestled free from Mando’s grip and turned to follow him, “I thought you guys were friends. How are you going to get anywhere without a ship?”

“That’s a thought for a different time,” he answered bluntly. You got the feeling he was still pissed from earlier, so you let the questions die.

———————————————————————

Mando led you to the med bay in silence. The floating droids had led you to the same room you had been in when you woke up. Mando stood to the side of the room, facing towards the entrance as if guarding you. You vaguely remember him saying that he would guard you to that girl Cara. You didn’t know why you would need guarding if this was a safe place, but you figured he wouldn’t answer any questions you had right now even if the silence was heavy as if both of you had storms brewing in your heads, waiting for the other person to speak before lashing out.

You fiddle with the sheets on the bed you had been instructed to sit on while they prepared for all the tests they were going to run. They hadn’t said what that would involve, nor if it would be painless or just scans. Nervousness kept you jumping at any sound you heard from outside the room.

You broke the silence between you and Mando just to hear something besides your racing heart, “Do you think it will hurt?”

He turned his head to you, but not his whole body, “I don’t know,” he turned back to looking out to the hallway.

This is a man sized child. “Not like you would care anyway, I guess,” you whispered to yourself.

Against all odds, he turned to face you fully with a quickness that made your heart sink to your stomach as if he had actually heard your words.

“What?”

Before another argument could break out, the hallway door slid open and one of the floating droids came inside. Mando clenched his fists, but relaxed a little as the droid came over to your side of the bed.

“Hello, Miss. I’ve been assigned to examine your head. You’ve been dealing with memory loss, correct?”

The droid had a tiny mouth that moved with each word. It was smaller. About half your size. The voice was soft, soothing. It calmed your nerves.

“Uh, yeah. I can’t remember anything about my past. My name, family, friends, anything. I heard my mind may have been wiped.”

The droid hummed in response, “Typically, that practice is reserved for droids receiving new owners or prisoners during war. The practice has been outlawed by the New Republic. It could be that, but let’s check your head. It could be injured and a simple injection of bacta directly to your brain may fix the problem.”

“Will any of it hurt?”

“Oh no, Miss. All tests and procedures are painless. Just relax while I do a preliminary scan and we will go from there, alright?”

You breathed deeply and nodded. A hatch by the chest of the droid opened revealing a blue light that started at your face, momentarily blinding you, slowing scanning down to the bottom of your neck all the way back up your head.

“I have my initial scans. I will be back shortly while my colleagues and I gather more information and read over the data. Please, try to relax.” With that, the droid floated away and left you alone again with Mando who was now staring at you.

You wanted to ignore him since his earlier reaction to the argument, which hadn’t eased up the tension from earlier nor his shortness with you.

“I’m sorry for earlier.” You still didn’t look at him as you said it afraid he would see you as weak or just be too angry.

“I was just upset that you guys won’t tell me anything. I get it’s for my own good, but you just keep telling me to trust you; yet so far I’ve been locked up, hurt, shot at, flown to unknown places, hunted, shot into the air, and apparently whipped. You keep telling me that I know you and trusted you at one point. I want to believe you. It���s just feels like you keep hiding the most important things from me. You also got mad at me for something I didn’t even realize was super insulting to you because I don’t know why it would be. I’m sorry for the emotionless comment. I know you feel emotions, obviously. Please, just try to be patient with me. We are starting from scratch, ya know?”

He doesn’t respond and you finally turn your head to try to get a read on him. He’s now right in front of you, which should be impossible since you didn’t hear him with all that armor on. His hands are on the rails of the bed and he’s leaning over you. It should make your heart stop right there staring up at a silver and black helmet that could kill you with a headbutt. Or die by heart palpitations since it’s starting to pound.

He leans further down and gently places his helmet against your forehead. Instinctively, you close your eyes against it. The metal is cool and refreshing.

The absence of sight makes his voice sound less robotic. You can hear the gruff voice underneath the coder.

“I apologize too. You didn’t deserve it, Runi. I’ll try to be more patient. You must understand though, I am used to a different you. Seeing your face, but not the same mind is a new adjustment. I’ll be more patient too, but please extend that same patience with me.”

“I forgive you. You’re right. I didn’t think about how it is for you, but I’m at a disadvantage. You know way more than I do at the moment. Like what does that word mean? The runi?”

His head snaps up from yours in surprise. He fumbles for something to say and acts embarrassed, “It means...”

The hallway door slides open again and the droid floats back into the room. Mando jumps backs away from you before the droid even fully enters the room.

The droid comes to your side again and starts poking you with a needle, drawing blood and more scans. More droids pop into the room with a monitor.

The first one speaks quietly to the others in another language for a bit before finally turning back to you.

“There is good news. Your brain is fully healed. You have no existing physical problems; however, the memory loss is not something we can heal. It is not something physical that can be solved with any of our equipment or techniques.”

“What? You can’t do anything to help?” Mando sounds more upset than you feel at the moment. You hadn’t expected much. You hadn’t had a chance to really think about what would happen if you gained your memories back. Now that you wouldn’t, the sense of hope that had been in your heart, shattered completely. You just assumed you would be yourself again and the old you would be back. There wouldn’t be any reason to be upset or confused anymore. Was there nothing to do now? Were you stuck like this forever now? Learning through painful memories?

You covered your mouth with your hand to hold in the tears as best you could. You felt wet warmth slide down your face regardless. You couldn’t see properly.

“Unfortunately, no. There’s nothing we can do. It does not mean it’s a hopeless cause, however. I am only saying that there’s nothing we can offer you.”

“So, what can you offer us?” Mando grounded out.

“The best we can give you is advice. You need to heal her mind. Taking her to places that mean the most to her might trigger her memories.”

“I was told that would hurt her mind.”

“As long as you don’t push her, it should be fine. Start with important places and take it slow. If that doesn’t work, or if it’s too much of a risk, there are those that claim strong connection to the minds of others. You may try them.”

Mando sighed in frustration, “That’s the best you’ve got? I don’t even have a ship.”

It’s hopeless.

“You can try on of the captains on the landing platforms. They may be willing to give you passage or even sell. This planet is a refugee center now as well. Someone may sell you a ship.”

Mando nodded and the droids left the room. He looked back to you. He crossed the room back to you; once in front of you, he gently grabs your chin to tilt it up to face him.

“I swear, I will fix this. Just stay here and I’ll head down to see what I can find.”

Mando turns to leave, but you shoot out your hand to grab his arm, “Please let me go too. I don’t want to stay here alone with my thoughts.”

He looks back at you and you can tell he’s considering. You’re almost afraid he’ll say no before he finally answers, “Alright. Let’s go.” He reaches for your hand that’s on his arm and puts it in his gloved one, gently pulling you from the bed.

———————————————————————

After hours of talking to pilots, crew, literally anyone Mando and you could find to speak to about passage or buying a ship, both of you found one lonely older, green Twi’lek male unloading everything from an equally older looking ship. The ship had rust along both of its wings that came together in a “V” shape with the cockpit in the middle. It did have weapons and hyperdrive capabilities, much to Mando’s approval. The inside had plenty of room for you and Mando plus any cargo space for supplies. There was a larger refresher than Boba Fett’s. The sleeping nook was larger and more comfortable than Boba’s as well. Overall, the inside was clean and to your liking. Mando just seemed happy about the weapons and hyperdrive with little regard to the rest.

The Twi’lek negotiated with Mando about the price. Mando talked him down for repairs and tuneups that were needed and the Twi’lek accepted. He was anxious to be rid of it in order to retire on Pollis Massa. So, Mando handed over the credits and you both boarded the new ship, The Vanguard.

Neither of you had much in the way of supplies. You literally had the clothes on your back and Mando somehow had more weapons than you could’ve guessed he could hide on his body. The sinking realization that you would have to stop for supplies before you could focus on your memories took hold in your mind. You were tired of stops and delays.

“So, what’s the next step?” You asked Mando from inside the cockpit. He was fiddling with the controls and starting to warm up the engines.

Without turning from what he was doing to respond, “My best idea is to see someone about possible repairs and supplies first. After that, I’m not really sure.”

“But what about-“

“Look, I know you’re anxious for your memories to be returned, but without actual healing, I’m at a loss, okay? If I take you to places that are important to your past, I could ruin your chances and I’m not putting you in that position!”

“Mando, I need my memories. Maybe if we start with my home planet that would be a decent spot to slowly start the process.”

“You never told me where you were from.” He admits quietly.

Again the frustration with your past self rises up, “Why didn’t you ask??”

“I didn’t need to know.”

You groaned out a muffled scream. If you could punch your past self and Mando, you absolutely would.

“So, what do you want to do?”

He’s quiet and turns fully to you. “I do have a friend. She can connect with others on a mental level. Weird magical power stuff. She might be able to help you. We may even find supplies there.”

A friend? He has friends, that are girls? I didn’t think him capable.

You weren’t sure why, but your heart felt like it was corroding with an acidic build up. The thought of the girl made you feel uneasy. You hadn’t even met her, so why did you care? She was a friend and she could help you. You should be grateful.

“Have I met her?”

“Yes.” Of course that would be the only response from him. You rolled your eyes at his lack of explanation.

He caught that look and elaborated, “You liked her. She’s nice.”

It wasn’t much more, but at least you knew she wasn’t mean. It still didn’t shake the feeling that you were anxious about meeting her.

“Where is she?”

“Last I saw, Corvus. Hopefully, she’s still there.” He turns back to the controls and the ship roars to life, “Now sit down. We’re taking off.” You do as your told and watch as the ship leaves the slow, peacefulness of Pollis Massa and fires off into hyperspace.

———————————————————————

Everything within the oxygen filled environment is on fire. Bodies and parts are strewn across the floor. The air smells like blood and burning flesh. Anyone that is still alive, crawling on the floor are wishing they were dead compared to their pain.

There’s one such being in front. A black boot lands on his head, effectively halting his crawl. Leaning down, a man’s voice echoes loudly in the now silent rest area.

“Have you seen a girl around here lately?” A gloved hand fills the vision showing a picture that looks like you to the dying man.

“No, n-no.”

“Pity.” Fear, bone-chilling, unadulterated fear fills your whole body. The voice sounds like Death itself. A red flash and a simple swipe from the gloved hands, decapitates the head from the body and boots move on.

“Lord Laz!” A humanoid black droid comes into focus. “I was able to recover some footage from one of the med bay droids. It shows her with a Mandalorian.”

“Really?” The voice purrs. “Did you find out where she went?”

“Partially. Sounds like they bought a ship and left here not too many cycles ago.”

The asteroid shakes as something explodes nearby. The gloved hands reach up and fire emits from them, burning the surrounding area.

The voice fills the emptiness again, this time with fury, “Find what you can about what ship and then we are destroying this place.” The view changes to show the once beautiful Pollis Massa now turned to ruins.

“Yes, milord.”

The sudden wailing and screams of terror fills the vision. The dreaded voice is gone, but fear and pain are left behind.

——

“Hey, wake up!” You spring out of your seat. A cold sweat chills you further along with the cold of space. Your breaths are labored. You can’t remember where you are until a silver helmet fills your view.

“Relax. It was a just nightmare.”

You shake your head vehemently, “No, I think it was worse than that.”

[thearkhound]

Why are Konami’s MSX games fun? Interview from Beep #35 (1987/09)

We Asked Konami’s Development Division

Text by TAKE ON!

Photographs by: Keita Iwagami

While there are many gaming software for the MSX, there’s something special about Konami’s MSX titles that makes them stand out. Rather than just doing simple ports from other platforms, their titles have a unique charm to them that titles from other developers might lack. To find out how they do it, we tried asking Konami directly.

Just as Expected

“Hey, I knew it! It’s just like I predicted.” As I saw the results of this issue’s survey, I raised my voiced and shouted “Did you see this? Konami was voted the number 1 software maker for the MSX!” However, my voice was simply absorbed by the editing room, with no even a simple “yes” or “I see”-type of response. While I was happy that my favorite company Konami took the no. 1 spot, the editors around me didn’t seem very impressed by that. Perhaps they were exhausted by all the hard work they were doing everyday.

“Why are you guys not impressed? Maybe Konami being No. 1 was too predictable, but it’s still outstanding. Perhaps our readers might want to find out why their games are so interesting. I think such an article will probably be invaluable for this issue’s special MSX coverage...” After trying to argue with the editors in a way that made no sense, I went to Konami’s branch office at Tokyo to interview them.

Overwhelmed by the Company’s Policy

“Uhh, my name is Take On, I’m a writer for Beep magazine.” Like a country bumpkin, I went there without a business card stating who I was, so I had to spent time explaining myself away to the receptionist. After somehow managing to explain who I was and why I came there, Ms. [Akemi] Kamio, Konami’s spokeswoman, led me to what seems to be the reception room.

Before I knew it, I was sitting absent-mindedly at the reception room. “Where am I? Who am I? Ah! Ms. Kamio is such a beauty, that I almost lost my memory. I’m not so used to that. By the way, what was I going to talk about...”

While desperately trying to remember what kind of questions I had in mind, I noticed there was some kind of writing on the wall.

Company’s Policy:

Brilliance Begins With People

Cosmic Pondering

Earnest Action

Release the Fountain of Sensitivity

And Continue Sending Waves of Creativity

Into The Future

Huh. It has a very creative feeling to it, but I have no idea what it means by just reading it. What sort of company policy or philosophy was this? And what the heck was a “cosmic pondering”?

While I was thinking about this, Ms. Kamio guided me, or rather lured me to the “great developer”, so I automatically switched to interview mode. But I still didn’t know what was going to be my first question, so I ended up fumbling a bit.

Cosmic Pondering

Take On!: Uh-hello! I came here today to ask about the MSX and its “cosmic pondering”?

Akihiko Nagata: Uh, pardon me!?

T: (Crap! I fumbled my way so suddenly. Come to think of it, I did brought a notepad with me with the questions I had in mind. How silly of me.) Sorry about that! What I meant to say was that I came here to ask about why Konami’s MSX games are so popular. I would be glad if you could start by talking about Konami’s development department no. 1, the group you belong to.

Nagata: Our company’s development team is divided by three sections: Arcade, Famicom and PC. As you see, my department focuses on PC gaming development, even though most of our games are for the MSX. The company’s plan of action is to have the three sections assembled to work on the same level.

T: Does that mean that titles such as Ganbare Goemon and Akumajo Dracula [Vampire Killer], which were ported from Famicom games, have their own staffs for the MSX versions?

Nagata: That’s right. When it comes to porting a game from one platform to another, other companies tend to have the same team involved with the port. We could do that too, since it’s very efficient, but our company has a structure which allows the MSX team to independently research and develop its own ports. As a result, we hardly release any port that is just the same game with a few minor changes. In other words, because we feel the class of users for the Famicom and MSX, as well as the market, are different, we’re doing a full-time service for each, In that sense, each software is basically its own original product.

The Inside Story of the Gradius Development

T: (I see. With such a logic, you won’t have an identical product.) Speaking of which, the MSX version of Gradius [Nemesis] was very different compared to the arcade and Famicom versions when it came to aspects like the difficulty level and the additional stages.

Nagata: That’s right. When I saw the development of the Famicom version of Gradius I felt a sense of “I really want to do this”. When it comes to developing a port, we set milestones with the condition that “if we can’t complete this, then we must cancel the development.” In the case of Gradius, making the laser long was such a condition, so the first thing we ended up doing was the programming for the laser itself. If we could accomplish that, then we can surely port the game.

T: (He really knows how players feel.) That’s why I was glad when it had new area and the hidden extra stages.

Nagata: Originally we were set to develop the game on a 32 kilobyte cartridge, but that was not sufficient to fit everything we wanted, so it was increased to 1-Megabit. Because there weren’t that many Megarom cartridges back then, we worked hard to make the best of it. We ended up with excess space, so we added a new regular stage to make use of it, but that was still not enough content to fill the extra space, so we added the hidden extra stages, as well as title screen that took 8-kilobyte.

T: (I see. But still, doing your best to make full use of the game’s given memory is pretty amazing.) I had the chance to play Gradius 2 [Nemesis 2] a while ago. It’s a superb game with all new stages and inclusion of a sound source that seems like it was developed specifically for the Megarom cartridge format. Particularly with its opening story sequence that made me teary-eyed.

Nagata: That story was something that its lead designer was particularly fixated with. (laughs) The original arcade version of Gradius didn’t have much of a story other than “the Bacterions are coming, deploy the Vic Viper”, but that wasn’t enough for the manual, so we had to go back and write a new story.

T: And then Gradius 2 added a sound source to the software.

Nagata: The music is all new and composed by the same person who did the music for the original arcade version of Gradius. This time we were able to employ audio waveforms in addition to the standard 3 PSG channels. All in all, you could say it has 8 ports or 8 chords. Simple calculations are also increased by 2.8 times. The programming is already like a puzzle. As for the music itself, you might not be able to tell the difference when compared to a recent game, but when compared to the first Gradius, you’ll see that the sound itself was considerably improved.

A Gathering of Little Ideas

T: Lately Gradius 2 has served as the centerpiece of the MSX1, but where does that leave Metal Gear in regards to the MSX2? I was very impressed by the innovative direction it took.

Nagata: I’m glad that the game was well-received by your staff. (laughs) I was concerned whether or not the game would be well-received by players or not. But it seems like we’re off to a good start. The world of Metal Gear was also something that its designer was particularly fixated with. When it comes to directing, or rather structuring a game, there are ways to create it after deciding on its main ideas, but sometimes it’s better to mix up a lot of little ideas like a crossword. You’ll know the game’s overall balance when it’s finished.

T: That’s why all Konami games have subtle little touches or shine with their presentation. Are there any particular problems when it comes to developing an MSX game?

Nagata: Sincerely, while the world of graphics have expanded since the introduction of the MSX2, it is very difficult in terms of processing. The MSX was designed to be used on a home television set [as opposed to a computer monitor], so even if you make the graphics more detailed, it still won’t look very pretty on a TV screen.

And then there’s the scrolling. If you’ve seen TwinBee or Hinotori, you’ll understand. The machine is capable of vertical-scrolling, but not horizontal. That’s why you won’t see anything like points on-screen.

The LSI concept for the MSX’s image processing was designed with scalability in mind, but it wasn’t compatible with the kind of LSI employed by the Famicom, so that gave us a lot of problem.

T: You done a great job! Finally, I would be glad if you could tell us what’s Konami’s outlook for the future of the MSX.

Nagata: We’ve been allowed to make a living off the MSX, so we’ll continue to do our best when it comes to both, the MSX1 and MSX2.

When it comes to genre, our company has been basically making only action games up to this point, but we plan on adding more cerebral and adventure elements to future titles. The way users are viewing games are changing, so we want to grow while gradually attracting their needs.

Our MSX games have changed a lot content-wise since we started making them, but I don’t think they would changed that much in such a short time if we were doing only MSX games. There’s a sense of rivalry among Famicom and other PC users. We’re also going to do our best to compete with the arcade and Famicom sections anyway we can, so please continue to support us.

T: As an MSX user myself, I’m looking forward to Konami’s future games for the platform. I know it’s a lot of work, especially when it comes to the MSX1, but for the one million users out there please keep up the good work. Thank you for your time.

I was worried about what was going to happen at one point, but the interviewed ended in a hour without a hitch. If I get the opportunity, next time I’ll ask about what exactly a “cosmic pondering” is. Until then, see you again in “my own forum!” (Editor’s note: “Hey! Don’t advertise your own serial!”

Source

Beep Vol. 3 No. 9 - September 1987 issue (Softbank Publishing)

[maniacalmagician]

EVERHOOD: Pinocchio in Psychedelic Purgatory: the Rock Opera Adventure. OR: I walked backwards into hell, and felt euphoria as I became privvy to the Divine Truths

Hello tumblr people. I’ve been Away. I played a game recently and I wanted to talk about it.   damnit i really wanted to put pictures into this mini essay. ive been away from this garbage site for too long, i dont know how to do it lol.  ok anyway    First, I want to say to the developers and anyone else that this has quickly become one of my all time favorite games. Currently writing I have personally never felt a greater emotional attachment to an experience with a piece of software. Perhaps it is the extreme idiosyncratic nature of it, perhaps it is the deeply intriguing storyline, mostly however it is a combination of those in addition to some of the most outstanding psychedelic visuals I have ever seen, particularly in the finale sequence, and a killer soundtrack that combines many genres but focuses mostly to being as bangers as possible. I will be upfront and say this game comes with a boatload of trigger warnings, and thus the aforementioned idiosyncratic nature of it may not appeal to everyone, however I feel it necessary to indicate potential content warnings here as I would hate for people to be triggered: epilepsy is the big one, I myself have mild stutter based epilepsy and it didn't cause health problems or anything but my case is not universal. Anyway. That is a hard warning on epilepsy. I do it because The Incredibles 2 did not, lmao (that's an example of the kind of visuals that trigger me personally. An aside ) Other things include (spoilers): arachnophobia, misophonia (screeches, unsettling sounds), themes of death, immortality, suicide. Some game mechanics are not immediately intuitive and puzzles require some pretty clever but sometimes obtuse solutions. Direction is not always super clear either. People have complained of performance issues but I am leaving this review after playing the switch port, which played smoothly other than some awkwardly long loading times here and there. What I have played of PC so far runs smooth but as of writing, performance for me was fine (my pc is a lowend budget build). There is a difficulty to it. Even playing on easier modes, it can be quite unforgiving. If you're a fan of hard games (I am but I suck at them) and rhythm games (this is, uh, Not? That? Almost functions as half walking sim, half rhythm Game, dodgy shoot em up kinda feels. Truly unique gameplay I think. Constantly switches things up, too. But yes I also adore rhythm games, and yes i also do suck at those too.), half of it is that. The devs troll you with puzzles. It's truly a wild experience as it advertises, one of a kind. And yet, however.... This game wears, much like its heart,, its references, on its sleeve. If you are not into that kind of thing, you will probably be annoyed by this game. It also loves to delv into meta, as many puzzles and interactions are references to the UI of the game itself. Personally, I'm not wild about meta but I appreciate the ernestness here, so I'm willing to roll with whatever this game throws at me because every turn feels unexpected, fresh, funky, somber, and wildly intelligent, with boldly sincere ludonarrative choices, script and art direction. If you like Geno from super Mario Brothers, which, guess what, narrator here LOVES Geno from Super Mario Brothers, this is functionally the game you've always wanted that Nintendo could never make because Square has held Geno hostage in some kind of underground torture facility since 1995. Turns out they were rather right to do so, because when that puppet is out serving a higher authroity, he can be quite dangerous. Narrarively it borrows much from its sources but I would argue there's proof the writers have spent time thinking about the implications of their source materials worlds, and that reflection casts itself back to create this, experience that is wholly unique even if we know Red is Geno and "Gaster" (who was based on Uboa from Yume Nikki or princess mononokes forest spirits), and some kind of disco Marceline character who changes their identity frequently, skeleton brothers- well undead brothers, really - We have to remember in the creation and consumption of media sometimes, influences and archetypes are ever present and Everhood almost itself is a realm that would indulge in the idea of self referential material. It makes for this very Jungian experience of friendly archetypes we're familiar with, which works well with this setting of an immortal realm. Thats not to say the personalities we do meet aren't expounded upon - they are, heavily, and become uniquely their own. (Spoiler) if my theory is to be believed this world is a purgatory where people have made their own artificial vessels and as time has made them bored (though some seem to be having a good time) while typical strains of the Pinocchio myth are thrown in about questions of identity and death - and probably even more so towards Timothy Learys concept of the Ego Death, or the return to the collective soup of unconcious being. Undertale will probably always be a reccomendation even by its own reference to it so comparisons to it will be littered through here. It feels like the developers were emboldened by Toby Foxs spirit in game development (his creative energy is rather infectious) and shared many similar ideas, but this feels far more aimed towards a maturer audience (references to the things I mentioned in the trigger warning list) and focused on achieving this feeling that its predecesors have as well. Yume nikki. Lisa. Earthbound. Toby's games. super Mario rpg in its humor, Cat Soup in its psychedellic depressive vibes, all this cool indie cult classicy kinda mash up soup.  bizarre antics and then these characters who have surprising depth the further you go. It has been 6 years since Undertale came out, and the developers for Everhood have called a lot of the "what ifs" that fans of that game ask, an answer in their own game. (What if No Mercy was forced, for example? What if going against destiny is the wrong thing to do? Why is Death such a Bad Thing? etc!) And the further along you progress, the smarter the story gets, the more complex the narrative threads and characters. This game knows how to write compelling literature and that wasn't an element I expecting but god am I so glad for it. Literally my pea brain saw Red's design flipping around some frets on a streamers videocapture (shoutout to based fellow tampa native Charles White, thank you for being witty and having good taste and your Floridian comisery.) one night and went "oh i like." But the experience I got in exchange was, so, so much more than that (but the tetris effect won't let that image disappear from my eyelids quite yet haha.) I hear there are multiple endings and one requires a 3 hour long trek. I'm not done with the game at the time of reviewing. You bet your sweet ass I am going to find out the Ultimate Truth. I found a way to deal with some of the bullshit in other games, I may not be great at games but I want to see whatever imagery these guys put on screen so it compels me to seek out all the alternative routes. I am going to be following these developers projects very closely. If this is their debut, their next project will be ... ... I would hate to force expectations, like if you just made a magnum opus like this it'd be perfectly alright to retire, but I just once again want to say thank you to the developers for putting your heart on display for the world to see. I see it. I have dealt with struggles similar to the ones in the stories this game articulates about anxiety and depression, existentialism and dread, dissociation and all the heavy themes that were risky to include narratively - I'm certaintly glad you took the risks you did. May update this review as I get further along the story but yeah. Tl;dr: haha pinocchio myth done well make brain go brrr. 9.99999999999998/10. I am taking an infitisimal fraction of a point off because of the ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ spider in the monster maze. that thing was abhorrent, but I won't let it deter anyone else who wants to play.

[cultureaddictconfessions]

Reporting for Romance ~ EXO’s Lay x Reader

{{Since it’s our sweet healing unicorn’s birthday today, I wanted to write a short fic centered around him. Being a very stylish ambassador-around-the-world, Lay shows up at a variety of fashion-related events, so this setting is where the reader (Y/N and Y/F/LN) is a fashion journalist who catches his eye at a show.}}

———————————————————————————————————

It was still surreal to be covering the Valentino show for S/S this year, but when you queued up with your press pass, it became a more concrete happenstance. Your editor in chief would be sitting toward the front row, of course, while you were deposited elsewhere. Your phone was fully charged and at the ready for any recording purposes, and your notebook and pen were stashed in the purse precariously dangling off your shoulder. You nervously presented the badge and allowed security to rifle through your bag before crossing into the hallway.

It was a beautiful, sunny day and you could see the bright, verdant hedges wrapping around outside the glass walls of the atrium that was playing runway for the day. Seats were set out around the room on the hardwood floors. The walls were in elegant white French style, and complementary to the mirrors and chandeliers that dotted the décor. Despite how uncomplicated and traditional everything looked, you felt overwhelmed. You’d attended fashion shows before, but you’d bought your ticket with your own money so you could write up a piece to try to make a name for yourself and score a job.

Now that you had, you were choking on imposter syndrome. You stood for a moment in the hallway, tugging at the hem of your dress, which suddenly felt too short despite getting the seal of approval from your boss. You crossed the floor to a mirror to check that you were just having a minor identity crisis and not that you were styled incorrectly. You brushed over your clothes with your fingers to smooth anything that felt out of place and did the same to your hair. You pouted as you looked at yourself, still unconvinced at your reflection. Another face blurred in the corner of your periphery as you were tapping at your lipstick.

 “You’re putting the mirror to good use, but you already looked nice when you came over.” Your face flushed a shade that matched the tube perched between your fingers. You turned to identify the man speaking to you and felt your heart do a somersault in your chest. He was strikingly handsome, to say the least, draped in a long, graphic coat punctuated by crisp white sneakers. His golden skin was smooth, and he didn’t have a hair out of place. But the thing that wrung your heart was his warm, dimpled smile. You sucked in your lip as you tried to remember how to breathe. Finally, you managed a chuckle that was at a higher pitch than normal.

“You can never be too careful at these types of events. One shoe unbuckled and the internet will crucify you,” you tucked your hair shyly behind your ear and let a smile pull up your lips, “thank you though. That makes me feel a little better. I just don’t want to embarrass my boss and have her banish me to the fashion closet again.” The young man laughed, and you felt some of the tension drop off your shoulders.  “Are you a magazine reporter then?” “I am! This is my first time covering a show for my publication. I think that’s why I’m on-edge. I want to work hard and prove my worth so I can come back again, you know?” His eyes widened at this, but he nodded as the dimpled resurfaced.  “Wow, first time! So exciting! I hope you will really enjoy it. I love to see all the beautiful clothes, so it is nice to get an invitation. I’m Lay Zhang, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”

Your companion held out his hand for you to shake, and you took it gently with a sheepish grin. “I, uh… I know, actually. I’ve heard your music. You’re very talented!” his whole face brightened at your admission, but there was an expectancy lingering before you remembered yourself, “oh right! I’m Y/F/LN. It’s lovely to meet you too. That coat looks so sharp on you!”  “Thank you so much. I liked the tiger because it reminds me of China, and I like animals,” he hadn’t dropped your hand but continued talking, although he seemed to be a little restrained with his speech, perhaps because English wasn’t his first language, “I’m surprised you’ve heard my work, but I’m happy to hear that you like it! I always want to work very hard and do my best, so I understand how you feel. I’m sure your writing will be great. You speak nicely.”

You had to turn your face away a little to hide the blush creeping back across it. Reluctantly, you let your hand slide out of Lay’s as you fiddled with the zipper of your bag. “I listen to a fair amount of KPop actually, so I found you through that. I can tell you really pour your effort into everything you do, and I hope that more people can see its beauty like I do,” you flashed your teeth at him, happy to direct the conversation onto him for the moment, “I’m sure the show will be amazing, but we shall see if I can do it justice. If you see it, you can tell me what you think. Criticism is encouraged.” You laughed softly.

Lay’s perfect mouth shaped into an O and he took a minute to process everything you said.  “Ah, do you like EXO? I miss my members… it’s nice to get to make music in my home country, though, so I can represent it well. It would be really nice to share my music with the world. Your wish is very kind; I wish for it, too,” there was a wistfulness in his tone, but he also seemed very heartfelt, which only made you like him more, “when I read it, I will think of you and send you a message of praise, Y/N! You should believe in yourself more.” “Yes, I love you guys! Awww that’s hard. There are pros and cons to everything I suppose. I think you’re doing a really great job balancing everything. And now you’re here as a brand ambassador too, right? I’m sure China and your members are really proud of you. You should be proud of everything you’re doing and have done… and will do! If I have to be confident, then you do, too,” you leaned forward and bumped his shoulder with your own, giggling, “I would love to hear from you no matter what you think. You can message me whenever.”

Before Lay could answer, a few people swept by and noticed him, calling out greetings. He frowned to you for a moment before turning and waving congenially. It seemed like everyone was migrating into the main hall. When the passersby had dissipated, he looked back at you.  “I would like to talk to you more, but I don’t think we’re sitting so close to each other and my English takes a little longer to express what I really want to say. Will you go to the party afterwards? I don’t know if you’re busy and will continue working…” It was your turn to gape at him, but you quickly schooled it into a neutral expression.

“Ummm I think I am? I have to double-check with my boss, actually. Can I tell you my answer after the show or are they going to rush you off to start mingling?” You dragged your foot in front of you on the floor, feeling a little bit like a silly schoolgirl.  “I will come find you, but let’s exchange contacts now just in case it’s difficult to coordinate.” He slid his mobile smoothly out of his pocket and went to pull up a VCard, but he paused as he looked at the screen for a second. He shut off the screen and held his hand out to you, which had you puzzled until you realized he was asking for your phone. You dipped into your purse and mimicked the steps he’d just taken before placing it in his palm, fingers brushing. He tapped away in concentration before handing it gently back to you and smiling.

 “I thought this would be easier because I don’t know if you read Chinese. Please send me a message and tell me it’s you so I can save your information to my phone! We can talk about things… and maybe you can help me practice my English?” It was quite a sight to see Lay beginning to blush, and you wished you could replicate that expression many times over. “You’re so thoughtful. Xièxiè. I’ll send it before I sit down, okay,” you reached out and squeezed his shoulder affectionately, positively beaming, “your English is great, but I’d definitely be happy to help with whatever you need, so no worries! Tell me whatever you can think of and then I won’t focus on feeling so awkward being here where I don’t belong.” You snorted, shaking your head. The glow returned to his face when you thanked him in Mandarin and made your promises, but he looked a little concerned at the end. It was his turn to reach out, placing a hand on your arm to command your attention. Your eyes glazed a little bit.

“Don’t say that, Y/N. You are a fashion reporter! Your company wanted you to be here. You are meant to be here. Don’t doubt yourself. Do your best and don’t forget to enjoy yourself. I will be cheering for you in my heart. Keep smiling and everything will be okay… okay?” Lay spoke without any frills, so sincere that it made you want to believe him. You had to bite back the urge to cry because he was so sweet and encouraging. Your heart was melting. “Okay. I’m just going to trust that you’re right and that I can do this. I’m really happy you came over and talked to me, Lay. It’s made me feel so much better. I’m really grateful.” Lay let his hand trail down your arm before returning to his side. You felt the warmth radiating off of him, and he seemed very pleased at your turnaround. He pouted his lips for a moment.  “I’m happy too. I think we should go in now, though. Can I walk you to your seat?” “Oh! You don’t have to do that, you’re like, an actual important person! It seems like a lot of people wanted to chat with you. I feel bad that I stole you away from them for so long.”  “I’m sure I will get to talk to them at some point, maybe during the show or the party. I just want to make sure you find your way and don’t feel so nervous. Come on, let’s go.”

Lay turned and placed his hand on your lower back, guiding you forward at his side. You matched his pace as you crossed under an archway and headed past the scattering of other attendees. You peeked sideways to get a glimpse of Lay in profile, not quite believing your luck. Once you neared the seats, he helped you locate your company tag. It took a few minutes. “You’re some kind of special, Lay Zhang. I’m gonna text you right now, and then we’ll see each other after, okay? You just go and look pretty! I have to turn on my ace reporter mode now!” You brandished your fists, psyching yourself up. Lay laughed, bumping a fist against yours in agreement.  “I look nice because of my team, Y/N, it’s nothing,” his other hand finally slipped away from your back, a little to your chagrin, “I will look forward to it. Work hard, Miss Reporter! Then we can have fun together at the party… I hope your boss will let you come!” You covered your cheeks with your hands and grinned at him, shaking your head in amusement. “You’re too modest. Enjoy the show and we’ll catch up in a little while!” You clasped your hands together and bowed your head to him. He returned it and then walked off with a bright smile. You dropped down into your seat after you watched his retreating back, grabbing your phone. You sent off two messages—one informing your editor that you’d arrived, and the second to Lay, for him to save your contact.

[[From: Y/F/LN To: Zhang “Lay” Yixing

Ni-hao, Lay! It’s Y/F/LN, the ace reporter. Tell me afterwards which outfit you like the most, and I’ll finagle a party invitation from Kristen. ;)

Sent 2:00PM]]

You tucked your phone into your purse after silencing it and turned to face the center. Your eyes scanned the room, taking in the scenery and all the beautiful people and beautiful clothes. You were about to write a note in your notebook until you caught sight of a very handsome young Chinese man looking at you and waving. Lay smiled and gave you a thumbs up. All you could do was grin stupidly and wave back. You were somewhat glad he wasn’t sitting anywhere near you because you wouldn’t have been able to concentrate if he had been. Another beautiful person came over to him and struck up a conversation, so you turned back to your paper and began writing what you saw.

The show was a confectionary of dreamy designs in vibrant colors and sumptuous materials. You noted some people were near tears. It was probably the highlight of your life thus far, besides your earlier meeting with Lay, of course. As people began to disperse, you slipped out your phone. Your editor, Kristen, had responded to your message and had you nearly hopping in glee. You looked across the panorama of the room but didn’t spot your prince of China. Collecting your things, you slowly made your way toward the entrance, although you got caught up quite a few times by writers and photographers from other publications. Kristen told you to meet her outside so you could take a car over together, but your first priority was to find Lay.

By the time you’d made it into the exiting crowd, you felt like you’d never find anyone. Just then, you felt a hand hook in the crook of your elbow. You turned and faced the stranger.  “You were difficult to locate in all the people, Miss Reporter! You’re tinier than all the tall guys, you know? But here you are, I’m glad.” Lay was smiling again, and you joined him easily. “I couldn’t find you either and you’re not short! Hey, guess what,” you paused as the two of you wriggled past the other people, Lay’s hand still on your arm so you wouldn’t get separated, “Kristen said we’re going to the after party, so we get to hang out more!! Yay!!” You bobbed your head with excitement. Lay looked like a fish as he exclaimed his satisfaction.  “That’s great, Y/N! I will meet you there then. Go safely and I’ll see you soon.”

When you spotted Kristen, you took Lay’s hands and squeezed them between yours, the joy written all over your face. You didn’t think today could be topped; you felt really lucky. “You too, Lay. Text me and I’ll come find you this time!” He nodded and you parted with full hearts, vibrating with anticipation for your reunion. You ambled over to Kristen, who raised an eyebrow when you appeared at her side.   “Who was that good-looking man you were talking to, Y/N? He seemed very fond of you.” “Ah! He’s a Chinese musician who’s in a Kpop group. He’s a Valentino brand ambassador, too, actually! He’s really sweet. He asked me to practice English with him since he’s going to be at the party as well.” You covered your mouth to downplay your smile, but Kristen saw everything. She chuckled softly, patting you on the shoulder.   “Well, regardless of all of that he is, he was clearly taken with you. Behave yourself… but don’t forget to take advantage of the moment. Who knows… you might be able to continue helping with his English after today.” Kristen winked at you and your face bloomed red as a nervous chuckle escaped. Shaking your head, you nodded to her to lead the way to the car. Your brain was struggling to absorb what she’d just said, so you’d have to take the car ride over to cool down before you got to see your new companion again. And so the magic continued…

———————————————————————————————————

{{I hope you liked this scenario; please leave a comment or reblog if you did! Watching interviews with Lay for research and he is just so humble and precious; it made me so happy to do a fic with him. Don’t forget to support his solo stuff as well as his work with EXO because he’s doubly-amazing and so hardworking! Happy 29th birthday you beautiful soul—I’m wishing that your dream to be on stage at the Grammy’s for your music comes true! Saranghae <3 <3 EXOXO}}

[quicksilversquared]

The Substitute Ladybug: Chapter 8

After Lila takes things too far and Marinette ends up with a broken leg, Paris is going to have to deal with a different superhero arrangement for a bit. Having to share her superhero identity with her parents before Hawkmoth can be defeated isn’t something that Marinette had planned on doing, but- well, it might end up being a bit of a blessing in disguise.

links in the reblog

Marinette had gotten as far as the gate in front of the Agreste mansion when she realized that, like her house, Adrien's place had stairs. Unlike the Dupain-Cheng household, the mansion didn't have any sort of lifts on the stairs, or an elevator like the school.

She hadn't remembered to consider that. Really, she should have, and then she should have talked to Adrien about it before school let out for the day to figure out what he wanted her to do.

Worrying her lip, Marinette step-hopped forward through the gates as they swung open. She could probably figure out the steps- she had been working on it during her physical therapy, it was just that normally she had people behind her to steady her- or just scoot herself up the stairs on her rear, but neither seemed like particularly good ideas. The first sounded dangerous, and the second-

Well, Mr. Agreste was all about appearances, and scooting up the stairs on her butt wasn't exactly a good appearance. And after it had taken so long for Adrien to get permission to have Marinette over in the first place, she didn't want to do anything that would get her immediately booted out.

With a deep breath, Marinette readied herself to go up the steps. She had only just gotten herself in position to start hopping her way up, though, when two large hands grabbed her shoulders and lifted. Before Marinette could figure out what was going on, she was being carried up the front steps and through the front door as it smoothly swung open. The carrier- it had to be the Gorilla, based both on the size of the hands and the height at which she was being unceremoniously carried- continued forward at an unchanging pace, all the way up the set of stairs in the entryway and right to the door of Adrien's room, where they came to an abrupt halt.

Marinette didn't doubt that if Adrien hadn't been standing in front of his door, cringing as he took in the sight of her getting hauled in by her shoulders, that the Gorilla would have continued straight into his room without missing a beat.

And then Marinette found herself scrambling to get her feet under herself as the Gorilla set her back down, just as abruptly as he had picked her up. He lingered long enough to make sure that she wouldn't fall over, then headed off without a word.

"I am so, so sorry," Adrien murmured as he opened the door to his room, standing back to give her plenty of room to get by. "I mentioned that you might have trouble getting up the stairs, so- well, I was trying to ask about if we have any elevators or ground-level entrances, honestly, but. Uh. He just decided to do that, apparently."

Marinette giggled, unable to help finding it funny now that she wasn't being taken off guard and manhandled up the stairs. "He decided to interpret that as him needing to be a human elevator, apparently. I would have preferred a heads-up, sure, but I know he was just trying to help."

"I think he forgot that even if I'm used to him picking me up and moving me around without warning, not everyone is," Adrien said with a sigh. He stepped around Marinette, pulling out a chair for her so that she could sit down. "Really, I'm sorry about that. We can find some other way for you to get back down the stairs later on."

"It's fine," Marinette insisted. She sat down, scooting up to Adrien's desk. "So, what are we doing first- photos or schoolwork?"

"We should probably at least get out our homework," Adrien admitted. "And get started on it. That way, if Nathalie sticks her head in, we can claim that we've been working on it the whole time. Or that we're just taking a quick break from studying."

Somehow, Marinette doubted that Nathalie would fall for that. Whether or not she would let it slide, though, was another matter. Sometimes it seemed like she was willing to help and cover for Adrien, while other times she ratted him out and interfered with Adrien's attempts to get together with his friends. Which way she went seemed to depend on the day.

How Adrien put up with that, Marinette just didn't know. Having to be around adults who blew hot or cold at random had to be super hard.

It didn't take long for them to set up their things, and sure enough, Marinette heard the quiet click of a door as they started work, giving away that someone- Nathalie, probably- had just poked her head in to make sure that they were actually working. Adrien glanced over at the door at the same time, and Marinette knew that he must have heard it as well.

And she had thought that her parents were nosy. At least they wouldn't care if they were actually doing homework or not.

"We should definitely try to study together more often," Adrien said appreciatively as they worked their way through their science and math homework. "It goes really fast with both of us. If I had to work through these problems on my own, I think it would probably take twice as long."

Marinette smiled and nodded. She had been about to say the same, honestly. When she and Adrien hit a snag with a concept that they weren't quite getting, they would either both toss ideas back and forth until they had figured out what they were messing up, or they would dive into their books and onto the computer to find something that explained the concept better if they really had no idea where to start. They hadn't really worked together that much before, so the ease with which they clicked and worked as a team was- well, a little surprising.

Surprising, but definitely not a bad thing. If they were really productive, then hopefully Nathalie would let them hang out together more often, without so much hassle.

"Okay, we have probably fifteen minutes before Nathalie checks in again," Adrien murmured seconds after they heard the third click of their study session. He paused, listening closely, then pushed his chair across the floor to grab a small photo album that had been tucked alongside his desk. "So my mom made this photo album. It's a secret from my father, technically. It's all of the photos that he hates, for whatever reason, but my mom thought were cute or funny."

Marinette's eyes got wide. That- that sounded like the kind of this that Mr. Agreste would probably destroy, if he found out that the album existed. "And it's not been- well, destroyed or anything?"

"No, I keep it hidden. And I have digital copies, in case anything ever happens to it. I don't think my dad would mess with it, though. My mom thought it was cute, and he-" Adrien paused, swallowing. "I don't want to think that he would destroy anything that she liked so much. But it's better safe than sorry with him, honestly." He took a moment, then scooted back to Marinette's side. "There's- uh, okay, there's a lot of baby photos in here, honestly. Just ignore that. But further along..." He flipped through the pages, and Marinette had to restrain herself from trying to catch a peek of what Baby Adrien (or Toddler Adrien) had looked like. If he wanted her to know, then he wouldn't be flipping through so fast. "Aha! Here's the toga."

Marinette took one look and had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from bursting out with laughter. "Oh my god. That- how did you not trip over that?"

"Okay, the first iteration left something to be desired," Adrien admitted. "To be fair, I was nine, and I had no idea how togas were meant to work. And the sheets on my bed- well, I have a big bed. And I wasn't a particularly big nine-year-old."

"The first iteration?" Marinette asked, puzzled. She frowned. "I thought your father would have put a stop to it."

"He tried, but it wasn't like I was just dressing up for fun," Adrien told her. "My mom pointed out that I had a reason for it, and then she got me a smaller bedsheet and looked up how to tie a toga. And she had access to safety pins and everything, so..."

He turned the page, and- oh, that wasn't fair. How did Adrien look so good while wearing- well, just a bedsheet with a belt around it?

"If Father had taken any longer to make cast-friendly pants, my mom and I were planning on ordering some kilts in my size," Adrien told Marinette. "Not for wearing out, necessarily, but to bug Father a bit." He laughed. "I kind of regret that I didn't get to do that, actually. I would have loved trying on a kilt."

...well, now Marinette wanted to make him one. It would be an interesting experience, and maybe she would learn some skills that she hadn't really dealt with before. But that also ran a very real risk of ticking Gabriel Agreste off, and considering that she had already ticked Audrey Bourgeois off this year...

Maybe that was a project for another time. Or at the very least, a project that could not be shown off beyond the confines of her house.

"Maybe Father got mad, but when Mom was here and made sure that he wasn't taking it out on me, it was fun," Adrien told her. "He might huff and puff but there wouldn't be any consequences."

Unlike there would be now went unsaid. Marinette had to wince on his behalf, because that had to be an unpleasant change to get used to.

"Anyway, there were a couple days of togas, and then I had my new cast-friendly pants to wear," Adrien finished, flipping the page. It was another page of him posing in different togas, each made up slightly differently. There were different belts, then a couple brooches to hold the toga together, then a deep red one that was clearly not meant to be worn out, considering that the back dragged out like a royal cape. "But it was fun while it lasted, and it was probably- no, definitely- the best part of having a broken leg."

"There's not much good about being on crutches," Marinette agreed. "I mean, Lila's gone, so that's good. But if I could have just, like, sprained my ankle and gotten a few bruises instead but gotten the same results, that would have been so much better."

Adrien grinned, clearly about to respond, but a noise near the door had them scrambling to hide the photo album and turn back to their books before they could be caught. When they heard the telltale click a minute later, they exchanged conspiratorial glances. Adrien's was tinged with an impish smile, and Marinette was sure that she was no better.

Being around Adrien like this was fun. Marinette had gotten tastes of it before, of course- it was hardly as though she and Adrien never hung out together by themselves- but it had never quite been this side of him, impish and rule-bending and all poorly-concealed grins and twinkling eyes and muffled laughter.

And Marinette wanted to see it more. It was easy to be relaxed around Adrien when he was like this. They could joke around and just hang out and not be thinking too much.

Or maybe she was just more relaxed because she wasn't thinking about asking him out. That had been her mom's theory when they had been discussing Marinette's crush and how it was going a few evenings back, and Marinette had to admit that she made a good point.

(Also, her mom seemed to know a lot more about Marinette's attempts to ask Adrien out than Marinette remembered telling. She suspected that Tikki might be telling her a lot, which- well, normally Marinette would be mad about that, but honestly, Alya could have told them just as much.)

They had brought up another very good point when they said that it might not be the best idea to date while she was still fighting Hawkmoth and Mayura. Apparently her parents had heard quite a bit from Alya complaining about Marinette missing out ("forgetting") on things that they had planned, and translating that to a dating setting...

Well, it wouldn't be a good idea with anyone. And with Adrien, who was already regularly let down by his father promising to show up to things and then simply not bothering- well, it would be borderline cruel, even if she didn't mean to leave him on his own.

Focusing strictly on being friends for the time being would definitely be better, Marinette decided as she re-focused on her work. Next to her, Adrien was tapping a faint beat on his notebook with the end of his pencil as he focused on the next question. She didn't want to lose Adrien's friendship because of her duties as Ladybug pulling her away unexpectedly. Once Hawkmoth was defeated- well, then she would have the time to dedicate to a relationship.

  Marinette glanced over at her phone as it let out the oh-so-familiar chirp signaling an akuma attack, then up at her teacher. Ms. Bustier didn't appear to have heard (though maybe she was just choosing to ignore it, considering how many students had that alert on all the time), so Marinette slipped her phone out of her purse and checked the update.

Oh. That- that looked like a difficult akuma. It was flitting back and forth quick as lightning, too fast to spot anything on it that might be the akumatized item.

It would be hard to fight that, even with Second Chance. She just couldn't give out instructions fast enough to keep ahead of the akuma. Marinette puzzled over that for a second, then quickly excused herself to the bathroom and made a break for it, hopping to a supply closet in the hallway instead. One transformation and a Portal later, and Marinette was back at her house.

"Are you getting more Miraculous?" Sass asked as Marinette hopped across her temporary room to the box where she had hidden the Miracle Box. Kaalki was perched on her shoulder, inhaling a quick snack to recharge, and didn't seem at all bothered. "Or are just fighting from here instead of the closet because it's nicer?"

"I want another Miraculous," Marinette told him, pulling the box out. "I thought that the Bee might be a good choice. And- well, I'm not sure if I should give it to Chat Noir or to my mom. In theory, we'll only need one Sting. And if I give it to Chat Noir and he misses, we have Second Chance. But if my mom gets it..." She frowned, pausing with her hand hovering over the Bee's comb. "Actually, Sass, would giving my mom a second Miraculous be a good idea? Master Fu didn't tell us about the fusions right away, so is it not a good idea to have newer Miraculous holders fuse like that?"

"Yeah, it's- well, sometimes it's fine, but new users do have a tendency to tire more easily with fusions," Sass told her. "They're not as acclimated to the magic, and for it to double and for the powers to be used multiple times..."

Marinette winced. "We'll have Chat Bee again, then. I don't want to risk my mom falling ill."

Sass smiled. "That's probably wise."

With that decided, Marinette scooped up the comb and called for Kaalki. With a flash, she transformed, immediately grabbing her horseshoe to find where her mom was. Coccinelle was on the move, which would make catching her next to impossible, but Chat Noir was paused in one place, clearly waiting for instructing while staying a safe distance back from the akuma.

Well. She would just go to him, then. It would be nice to see Chat Noir in person again, even if- well, even if it was only going to be for a few seconds while she handed over the Miraculous.

"And that's a nice flat rooftop, too," Tianma murmured to herself, narrowing her eyes at her map one more time to make sure that she went to the right spot. "Okay, portal!"

The portal shimmered into being in front of her, and Tianma hopped forward on her Miraculous-provided crutches, making sure to jump high enough to clear the (thankfully low) threshold of the portal. She had barely landed when suddenly, her feet were off the ground once more.

"Bugaboo!" Chat Noir exclaimed in her ear, clearly delighted, and Tianma breathed a sigh of relief. He had startled her, but to be fair, she had returned the favor with the sudden unannounced portal popping out of nowhere behind him. "What are you doing out? Is your mom not coming? How's your leg? I didn't expect to see you today! How are you doing?"

"Slow down, kitty," Tianma ordered with a giggle. "My mom is coming, I just had to deliver the Bee. This akuma is super fast, and I think the only way for us to take them down fast is if we immobilize it. And my mom was already headed out when I made that decision, so I came. And my leg is- well, it's healing. Still."

"I wish it would heal faster," Chat Noir told the top of her head. "I mean, the short fights are great and all, and your mom is super cool and helpful, but it's not the same."

"I can't wait to get out again, either," Tianma admitted. "Being stuck at home and not being able to do everything that I'm used to- it sucks. And I have another three weeks before the cast comes off! Initially I had been hoping to have a lot shorter recovery time than more people because Tikki had said that the Miraculous makes us heal faster, but the doctor doesn't know that, so of course he's not going to look at my leg early." She had made that particular realization only a couple days ago, and- well, she still wasn't over it.

Marinette knew that the doctor had said six weeks, but she had really been hoping that Tikki would be able to get her recovery time down to, say, four and a half. Or five. Anything but six.

"Well, it's still going to help you get back out faster," Chat Noir told her, and Tianma pulled back enough to be able to look up at him in confusion. He raised an eyebrow at her. "Bugaboo, you know that just because the cast comes off, that doesn't automatically mean that you're 100% again, right? There's supposed to be several weeks of recovery afterwards, and the bone is still healing. If you didn't have Tikki's healing, you probably wouldn't be cleared to go back to normal physical activity again right away." He shrugged. "Or at least that was what I had happen when I fractured my leg as a kid. It sucked, and it- well, it was just super hard to remember that I still had to be careful after the cast came off."

Tianma's shoulders slumped. She- well, she had been counting down the days to when the cast would come off and she could go out as Ladybug again, but clearly she was being a bit too optimistic. "Oh."

"But like I said, Tikki should help with that part," Chat Noir added. "Maybe she can tell you more later?"

Tianma nodded. She would be questioning her kwami later on for sure. She didn't want to go forward with unrealistic expectations, so- well, she might as well find out sooner rather than later. "Yeah." She let out a long sigh and then, with a start, realized that- well, she hadn't just come out to chat with Chat Noir. She thrust the Bee's box at him. "Oh! Here's the Miraculous. Sass said that it would be better for you to do the combo- I thought maybe my mom could do it, so she would have multiple power uses, but Sass said that she's not used to the magic enough to do combos."

"Right, okay- Pollen, Plagg, combine!" Chat Noir called, and Tianma flinched at the bright flash of the transformation. He grinned at her- and oh, the jagged yellow stripes across his normal outfit would never stop being strange. "I'll do my best."

Tianma nodded, hopping back towards the portal. "Stay safe! And just send the Bee back with my mom. I don't want to have to recharge Kaalki an extra time."

"Of course." Chat Bee paused, then reached out for her, a light hand resting on her shoulder. "Hey, do- do you think we can hang out sometime? Like, for an evening? Not romantically or anything," he added hastily. "But I miss seeing you. It's not the same to just be hearing you."

Tianma didn't even have to consider that before she was nodding, completely on board with the idea. She missed Chat Noir, too, and- well, he was one of her best friends. They didn't get to hang out outside of the suit. "Maybe over the weekend? Not Friday or Saturday, because I don't want to disrupt your patrols with Coccinelle, but Sunday?"

Chat Noir nodded furiously. "Yeah! I'll bring some food- actually, you know what, I'll figure out the details with your mom," he said hastily when a loud explosion went off in the distance. "We've got an akuma to deal with. Back through the portal you go!"

With that, Chat Noir lent her a hand- or, rather, a paw- back through the portal into her room. It closed up behind her, and she detransformed and called on Sass.

"All right, down to business," Vipera announced, settling herself at her desk and getting set up as quickly as possible. She had spent far more time than she had planned with Chat Noir, and now she really had to get going if she wanted to be prepared for the battle.

Still, she smiled. Sunday couldn't come soon enough.

  Ladybug (or, rather, Horsebug) Portaled to their secluded rooftop five minutes early, hauling a backpack stuffed with pastries that her parents had packed for her, plus an entire quiche that her mom had made specifically for them. Unsurprisingly, Chat Noir was already there, spreading out a large blanket and fussing with making sure that it was just so.

"I brought more food," Ladybug announced, stumbling a little as she hopped though the portal. Chat Noir was by her side in an instant, steadying her and making sure that none of her weight landed on her bad leg. "And my mom made quiche, she said it's one of your favorites-"

"Ooh, she's the best!"

"I'll not ask how she knows it's one of your favorites," Ladybug added with a sigh as Chat Noir helped her sit down on the ground- or, well, on a pillow on the ground. She released Kaalki and beamed at the kwami in thanks before turning her attention to her partner. "It seems like she knows quite a bit."

Chat Noir winced at that. "I- yeah. I know I've maybe said too much to her about secret identity stuff, but it's just really easy to talk to her, you know? It's kind of like having a mom again- sorry, sorry, pretend I didn't say that bit," Chat Noir added hastily. "But it's nice to have a parental figure that actually listens, so maybe I talk a little more than I should."

...Ladybug was really glad that Tikki had mentioned that she and Chat Noir might be able to reveal their secret identities at some point soonish. If she hadn't- well, Ladybug would probably be panicking about the additional accidental information.

"Honestly, part of it might also just be that- well, what are the chances that she would actually know me?" Chat Noir asked. "Civilian me, that is. She's an adult, she wouldn't run in, like, the same social circles anyway."

"Except my mom known pretty much everyone I do," Ladybug reminded him. "She knows my classmates, she still recognizes my former classmates, she knows my friends from out of class, she even knows a lot of kids . She's not one of those adults that don't pay any attention to kids."

Chat Noir considered that. "...oh."

"I've told her that she needs to be more careful with what information she mentions to me," Ladybug told him, already hating the way his ears were starting to droop. If having an adult who would listen to him made that much of a difference to her partner- well, that could potentially save him from akumatization, couldn't it? That was super-important. "Because she was assuming at first that you and I talked about the same stuff, so she would just refer to it like common knowledge. So she's not going to accidentally tell me anything now. And..." Ladybug worried her lip for a moment, then forged on. "And she- she already knows my identity. She knows that she has to be careful to not get akumatized. If she figures out yours, too, I suppose it wouldn't be the end of the world. It would just be like how Master Fu knew about both of us, right?"

Chat Noir's entire being brightened, and Ladybug knew that she had made the right call. "I- right! Right, yeah, that- that was not the way I thought this conversation was going to go."

Ladybug had to laugh at that. "Honestly, me neither, but I know how much it's helped to be able to talk to my parents about everything in my life. I have Tikki, sure, but it's different, somehow. Tikki sometimes doesn't understand stuff in my normal life very well. And I don't think it's fair of me to deny you that."

Chat Noir pulled her into a wordless hug. Ladybug hugged him back, resting her cheek against his shoulder. She couldn't help but smile, completely content where she was.

"If I ever need to have a replacement Chat Noir, your parents would definitely be my go-to first choice," Chat Noir told her. "I mean, of course I'd rather be out there myself, but if I sprained my ankle really badly, or- heaven forbid- broke something- except I would have to know who they are, wouldn't I? There goes that idea."

"We could make it work," Ladybug told him. "I don't know how, but we could." She didn't mention Tikki's comment, not quite yet. It didn't seem like the time to.

Maybe once she returned to superheroing full-time then she could bring it up. Now, it just seemed too early and like she might be getting her partner's hopes up too early.

It didn't take long for them to settle down and unpack the food they had brought, arranging it across the blanket so that they could see everything. There was a lot- there was no way that they would be able to finish it all- but that just meant that there were plenty of tasty-looking choices. Chat Noir handed Ladybug a plate, and they dug in.

It was maybe a little strange, since- well, she and Chat Noir didn't really do this, hanging out and eating dinner. Patrols- when they did them, when they had the time to spare- doubled as exercise and training. They sometimes came out for speeches or events or dedications, but that was rare and they didn't really chat during those. It wouldn't be smart, not with reporters lurking nearby and ready to pounce on anything personal the superheroes said. And during akuma attacks, obviously they weren't going to be sprawling out on a rooftop and mindlessly chatting.

It was nice, though. Maybe- if they had the time- they could do this more often after her leg was back to normal.

"How's the Snake treating you?" Chat Noir asked as they finished up their slices of quiche and turned their attention to the petits fours that her parents had packed. "I don't think we've asked in a while. We got a few fights in with the Second Chance reset, and- well, now it's normal. But I have to imagine that it's super-tough on you."

"It's gotten easier," Ladybug told him. "I've gotten better at it, rather. It seems like I don't have to reset as often, because I've gotten good at spotting openings and incoming attacks. I've gotten Sass to give me more screens, so that helps. I have more angles to work with and watch."

"You're a regular Mission Control," Chat Noir said admiringly. "I couldn't do it. It sounds super hard."

Ladybug could only shrug sheepishly. "I guess. But I've gotten used to it, and it's a bit of a mental challenge, too. And I like a challenge." And she really, really did. It was like playing the world's fastest-paced puzzle game crossed with a fighting game.

"But aren't all of the resets hard on you? Like, seeing things going wrong again and again?" Chat Noir hadn't touched his petits four, instead fiddling with the end of his tail. Ladybug frowned at the question, puzzled.

Nothing had really gone terribly wrong during the fights when she was the Snake. Most of the time, it was just things not going nearly as well as they could have. So she said as much.

Chat Noir seemed really relieved by that.

Their conversation wandered from there, touching on the different battles and what they had seen from their perspective of the fight, then talking about things going on in the city. At one point, their conversation drifted towards the non-Miraculous side of their life, but they quickly backed off and changed the subject before they could say anything too identifying.

Maybe Tikki had said that they were getting closer to a reveal, but there was no point in running the risk of an early reveal before they were ready just because they got carried away with talking and teasing each other.

"Ah, it's getting late," Chat Noir exclaimed after he went to check his baton for something and caught sight of the time. "We'd better pack up and go home. I'm glad you could come out."

Ladybug smiled, leaning forward as much as she could to help pack up the leftovers. Her parents had definitely over-packed, and Chat Noir had brought more than they could eat, too. "I'm glad, too. This was fun. And it was nice to get out in this suit, too." She plucked at the red supersuit, smiling at the familiar outfit. "I know I've been transforming with the other kwami, and of course it's not exactly the same as my normal transformation, what with the crutches and the cast, but..." She trailed off, not sure how to explain it. Fortunately, Chat Noir knew exactly what she was talking about.

"Yeah, transforming with different Miraculous... it just isn't the same. I can't put my finger on exactly why, because- well, it's a strength boost, and you can just feel the magic, but it's not quite the same magic. It's like..." Chat Noir floundered for a second, his brow creasing. "Like if you're eating something, and the cook forgot one of the spices, or added a new one. But not like a strong spice. Like a really subtle one, and you'd only pick it up if you had it a lot."

Ladybug giggled, reaching forward to poke Chat Noir's stomach. "Talking about food already? You just ate!"

"There's food in front of me, that's why I thought of it!" Chat Noir protested with a laugh, batting her hand away. "Not because I was hungry!"

Ladybug giggled again before sitting back, content to let Chat Noir deal with packing up the food that was out of her reach. "I suppose it's a decent enough analogy. It's something subtle in the magic, not something obvious like the suit itself."

"Speaking of which- your Horse outfit is adorable," Chat Noir told her, pausing in his packing to beam over at her. "That tunic top over leggings? Very fashionable yet also leaning towards comfortable-at-home chic."

Ladybug beamed. "Thanks! I wanted to try something different. My transformation as Vipera has the same silhouette, actually. It's really comfy. And, well, it's not like I'm running and flipping around or anything. I can have a little fun with the design."

"D'you think you'd incorporate any of that design into your Ladybug outfit once you come back?" Chat Noir asked, clearly curious. "I mean, I can't see that particular design getting in your way while fighting. And it's cute."

Ladybug muffled a giggle. He had already mentioned that, which... well, was a clear giveaway that he wanted to see that sort of outfit more. "Maybe? As long as the tunic would stay down. And I would keep the higher neckline that I have now, just for safety reasons." Which honestly might throw off the composition of the entire outfit, since right now, with both the Horse and the Snake, she had a wider square neckline. Getting rid of that would get rid of the loose look that the tunic had. And- "Oh, and the sleeves aren't great for fighting. They're too loose. So- well, I guess that version of the Ladybug suit will have to wait until Hawkmoth is gone."

"Ooh." Chat Noir considered that, then smiled over at her. "Another motivation to take Hawkmoth down as soon as possible!"

"Flirt," Ladybug muttered, her cheeks red. Chat Noir just grinned at her, passing over the Horse Miraculous before helping her- or rather, lifting her- to her feet. "Thanks."

"Only the best for my lady!" Chat Noir chirped cheerfully. He grinned over at her as she put the Horse Miraculous on, the second part of her transformation washing over her. "Sweet dreams, Ladybug."

Ladybug smiled as she called on Portal. "You too, Chat Noir."

With a careful hop, Ladybug left the rooftop behind and landed back in her family's kitchen, her Portal closing up behind her. The basket of leftovers got unpacked into the fridge- except for a couple things set aside for the kwamis- and then Marinette headed to bed, unable to keep from yawning widely.

"It looks like you've had a good time," Tikki commented as Marinette washed up for bed. "Was it nice to see Chat Noir in person again?"

"It was great," Marinette told her, unable to help smiling. "I forgot how fun it is to banter with him. It's not a dynamic that I really have with any of my other friends, and I missed it." She tugged out her pigtails and started combing her hair before pausing mid-stroke. "It seemed different from when I last saw Chat Noir, though. When I last properly saw Chat Noir, before my leg broke, that is. He wasn't really flirting as much- or no, that's not right," she corrected herself. "He wasn't flirting seriously, that's the difference. We always flirt and tease, that's just how we are, but he wasn't trying to confess or ask me out or anything."

A smile flashed across Tikki's face before she hastily hid it. "He's growing up, maybe."

Marinette hummed in response, starting up her combing again. "Maybe. Whatever it is- well, I liked it. I like spending time with him."

"Do you think you're going to do another dinner together before the cast comes off?" Tikki asked. Marinette thought about it, then shrugged.

"If we have the time, maybe. We'd have to end earlier, though- it's super late right now, and I have school tomorrow."

Tikki smiled at that. "So yes?"

"Yeah." Marinette finished combing her hair and started tying it back up for the night, a small smile on her face. "Yeah, I'd like that."

  The next morning, Marinette's phone started ringing before her alarm even went off. She groaned, swatting for it blearily, and it shut off. Moments later, it started up again, and this time Marinette sat up properly, picking up the phone and squinting at it to see who on earth was calling her at this time in the morning.

It was Alya. With a groan- she and Chat Noir really should have headed home sooner, she was exhausted- Marinette picked up. "Hello? What's-"

"Marinette! Marinette! Have you heard? Ladybug's been spotted! She's finally back!"

[bouwrites]

Even Heroes Have the Right to Dream: Chapter 9

I remember the first night that she went to find her little place inside this world.

First, Previous, Next. Ao3.

Story under read-more.

“So… that’s the box?”

Marinette nods, frowning down at the Miracle Box.

“It’s, uh…” Jon clears his throat awkwardly, “spherical.”

Marinette snickers. “Not what you were expecting?”

She watches Jon frown at the ladybug-spotted dome of the box. “Well, no…”

“It’s kind of ugly, isn’t it?”

“Yes! Thank God, you said it!” Jon sighs in what must be relief. “I didn’t want to, I don’t know, insult the kwami’s… home? I don’t know, is this thing sacred?”

Marinette giggles freely, enjoying his antics. “It’s fine. It’s not exactly subtle. Or cute. The old guardian, the one who chose me, when the box was his it was this really pretty ornamental puzzle box sort of thing. But then I get it and it’s… this.”

“It’s spherical!” Jon exclaims.

“Yeah, it’s not even a box anymore and I’m honestly not sure if we should, you know, keep calling it that. But what’s the alternative? The Miracle Orb?”

Jon bursts into a giggling fit at that. “Miracle Egg.” He says.

“Or just Egg.” Marinette laughs.

“It is an oblong spherical thing that holds living creatures, so…” Jon just keeps cackling, and Marinette laughs along with him. It’s ridiculous to even consider calling the Miracle Box, the vessel that holds over a dozen immortal gods, an egg, but that’s exactly why Marinette is short on breath and leaning on Jon for support. (Mostly, because the description isn’t wrong.)

“Anyway.” Marinette says when she calms down. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About finding another way. It might not be… ideal, but I think I figured something out.”

“You did?” Jon watches her curiously. “And what’d you figure out?”

Marinette sighs and closes her eyes. “First, that you’re right. Passing the guardianship on to Chat Noir isn’t really an option. I don’t… Maybe it’s selfish, but I don’t want to forget. It’s too much of my life. I wouldn’t be the same person I am now if I did. And… despite how hard it is sometimes, I do like the person I am now.” She punches Jon’s shoulder gently. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

Jon grins cheekily. “For stopping you from forgetting, or for helping you like yourself?”

“Don’t give yourself too much credit.” Marinette teases. “But both. You’re a big reason why I’m happy giving up being a hero. I never would have accepted that I don’t have to be. I still haven’t completely, but if you weren’t here, then forgetting really would be my only option.” She sighs again, shaking her head. “Anyway. I was thinking about how to be guardian while still refusing to fight, and I’m honestly a little embarrassed I didn’t think of it sooner. The guardian before me did the same thing, though in his case it was because he was too old to fight.”

Jon looks between her and the box. “What are you going to do.”

“I’m giving up Tikki. Not completely, of course. She’ll still be in the box. But I still need a Miraculous to use if I have to, so instead of her, I’ll partner with Wayzz.”

Jon furrows his brow, but simply watches as Tikki and Wayzz both frown sadly at her. “Are you sure about this, Marinette? You’re such a wonderful Ladybug.” Tikki says.

“I’m sure, Tikki.” Marinette glances to Jon. “Wayzz is the turtle kwami of protection.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you.” Wayzz bows politely to Jon, who nods back.

“Did you see when Carapace was around?” Marinette asks.

“I did.” Jon says. “So, this is the Miraculous that he used?”

“Yes. It’s also the Miraculous that the guardian before me used. Its powers are all about shielding. Protection. I can use it, and keep myself and the Miraculous safe, all without breaking my promise of non-violence.”

Jon blinks dumbly. “You made a promise?”

“I am right now.” She says. “To you. We both want to leave that life behind us, and I turned my back on this once, so I’m promising you now. I won’t fight. Ever. If I ever have to again, I’ll find another way. I won’t abandon this life again. Or you.”

Jon worries his lip. His eyes are watery, but otherwise he just stares at her. “I promise, too.” He says eventually. “We’re in this together. No more fighting. No more heroes. There’s always another way.”

“A peaceful life.” Marinette says with a smile.

“A peaceful life.” He agrees. Then, he chuckles softly. “Normal was never possible, was it? But peaceful is. We know it is.”

Wayzz looks between the two of them for a moment and says, “Normal is a common misconception. Even people who are never touched by magic or heroism are all unique. Thus, a ‘normal life’ is entirely subjective, and says little about the actual contents of the life.”

“Heh. I see.” Jon says softly. “You’re the wise one.”

Wayzz laughs. “I try to be helpful.”

“Aha, well, I look forward to getting to know you, Wayzz.”

“And I, you.”

Marinette smiles at the two before turning her attention back to Tikki. “I’m sorry, Tikki.” She says. “I feel like I’m letting you down.”

“Never, Marinette.” Tikki zooms close to hug her cheek. “I understand. Wayzz is a good partner, and I’m glad you found something you care so much about. I’m proud of you, for making the decision to stand by what you believe in.”

And now Marinette is teary-eyed. “Thank you, Tikki. You’ve no idea how much that means to me.”

“Stay safe.” Tikki says. “Stay strong. I believe in you. Just do what you have to to be happy.”

“I will. I promise.”

Tikki drifts over to Jon to look him over sternly. “Take care of her.”

Jon purses his lips. “Duh. But you’re not going anywhere, though, right? Just into the Egg. You’ll be around to kick my butt if I do anything out of turn.”

Tikki giggles. “You’re right. I will. It’s just… sad. Marinette’s been my partner for many years now, and from the box I can’t always help her. I’m asking you to help her.”

“I already promised.” Jon says. “We’re in this together.”

Satisfied with that answer, Tikki nods and, with one last long look at Marinette, vanishes into the Miracle Box. Marinette carefully places the earrings inside, then checks the fastening of the bracelet around her wrist.

The air is tense, as if the very room can sense the significance of the moment. An exchange of Miraculous isn’t a small thing, especially when the ladybug Miraculous is involved. But Marinette puts a swift end to that tension with a decisive, clinical change of subject. “I don’t know about you,” She says to Jon, “but I am going to ace this semester.”

Jon chuckles. “I’m still hurting from that second semester, to be honest. But I’m with you. Can’t mess up my first semester in my new major.”

“We need to get into good habits again, like we did when we first got here.” Marinette says, standing to return to her desk and calendar. “And no more of this drama. I know this was my fault, but still.”

“Ugh, agreed.” Jon says. “We cannot do this every year. At least we figured it out in just a couple weeks this time. Not like last time.”

Marinette flinches. “Don’t remind me. That was my fault, too.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Jon says softly. “I would have done the same thing. That was just something we were inevitably going to have to deal with. I’m glad we got it out of the way so early. We’ve still got years to get everything put back together. And that’s only including college. Not to mention it would have hurt more if we’d kept the secret longer.”

“Good point.” She admits. “Still, I’m sorry I’ve caused so much trouble for you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jon waves her off. “Water under the bridge. It probably would have been simpler if I’d gotten some random normal roommate, but I’m still glad I got you.” He nudges her playfully. “You’re my friend.”

Marinette ducks her head, feeling her cheeks warm, but she doesn’t try to fight off the smile that stretches across her face.

“No, things have just been a bit hectic lately.” Marinette says into the phone. “I haven’t been giving myself enough time to study, so I’m playing catch up.” It’s not the whole truth, obviously, but she can’t tell even those closest to her about what’s been going on with Jon without his permission. He may not be Superboy anymore, but anyone who figures him out will be able to figure out Superman’s civilian identity and that could be disastrous. Not to mention, Marinette is sure that Jon doesn’t want the attention.

“Well, your education comes first.” Penny’s voice over the speaker says firmly. “But there’s some time before we’ll need everything. We know you’re in school, so we didn’t want to put any more on you than necessary. Do you think you can do the album cover, and then we can figure out later if you’ll have time to do the tour outfits?”

Marinette thinks for a moment. “That’ll work. I’ll be working off and on, since I don’t want to sacrifice study time, so keeping track of hours will be difficult. Will the flat rate work for you?”

“That’s fine. I’ll look around for other designers for the tour as a backup plan but let us know when you can if you think you’ll be able to make them for us.”

“I should have a good idea after midterms.” Marinette answers. “I’ll let you know once I do. Same NDA?”

“As always. I’ll send it now. You still want your identity secret, I assume?”

“For now, yes.”

Penny hums softly for a moment. “You know it would help your career if you’d let Jagged rave about you.”

“I know.” Marinette says quickly. “I’m… I think the pseudonym has served its purpose. It’s getting close to time to drop it, but… not yet. Oh! But, about the NDA, I do have a roommate. If I do have time to make those outfits, I’ll have to do it in my apartment. My roommate will see, though. It’s not a big deal, he won’t tell anyone, but I still thought you should know.”

“Ah, yes, I remember you mentioned a roommate. Let’s see… you can keep the album cover hidden, and we’ll announce the album quickly once we get that from you. So, by then, the NDA is largely finished anyway. On your end, though…”

“Don’t worry, I don’t mind him knowing. As I said, I’m thinking about announcing my name anyway.”

“If you’re sure. We could rent you a studio to work on them privately.”

“There’s no need for that.” Marinette says. “Jon can keep a secret. And you already pay me enough, you don’t need to rent a studio for me, too.”

“Money isn’t an issue, Marinette.” Penny says gently. “But ultimately it’s your decision. If you’re sure.”

“I am. Besides, we’re not even sure yet that I’ll be able to take the job.”

“Of course.” Penny says. “I have to go. Let me know about your schedule. And you know we’re here for you if you need anything.”

“I know, Penny. Thank you. And thanks again for commissioning me.”

Penny chuckles. “You know you’re the only designer rock and roll enough for Jagged.”

Marinette pulls the phone from her ear and immediately checks her email. Naturally, she already has the email she’s looking for. Jagged Stone and Marinette (and Penny) have worked together enough now that this is all fairly normal. Marinette skims through the NDA, just to confirm it’s the same as always (she trusts Penny, of course, but one can never be too careful with contracts) and signs it electronically and sends it back to Penny.

Just a few minutes later, Marinette receives all the information she’ll need to make the album cover. Jagged Stone’s concept, sample files of the music, all the drier organizational stuff that, most importantly, gives her a general deadline. Jagged is generous with information, since Marinette is under NDA anyway and he’s very passionate about everything being “rock and roll” enough.

Marinette is very lucky to have met him, despite the occasional trouble he causes. Once she lets him announce that she’s his designer, there’ll be a lot more trouble, too, but it will jumpstart her career.

Marinette sighs, making sure her headphones are in before clicking through the sample sound files. While it’s true that her reasoning for hiding her identity has essentially become obsolete, that doesn’t mean she’s eager for all the buzz that will surely appear when Jagged announces the name of the designer some people are raving to know about.

When she was Ladybug, too much personal fame as Marinette could be compromising. Adrien is in the same position, of course, but he was raised in fame. He’s used to it and knows how to navigate it. When Marinette designed those glasses and that first album cover for Jagged and everyone knew about her, a girl so young designing anything for an artist like Jagged Stone, she had her own moment of fame. Not to mention everything she watches Adrien go through, or, on occasion, goes through with him. That attention frightens her, it makes her nervous, and when she gets nervous, she’s more likely to slip up.

Plus, she was only a child. She didn’t need that kind of attention at that age. Not on top of Ladybug and, later, being Adrien Agreste’s girlfriend.

But there is no more Ladybug. Marinette is just a normal, adult girl in university. If she wants to get her name out as a big designer, there’s no danger in it. The idea is appealing. After all, what designer doesn’t want their brand to be recognized? Still, old habits die hard. As appealing as it is, it also makes her nervous. Part of her wants to wait until she’s finished with university, another part is calling that part a coward.

She doesn’t need to decide quite yet, though. For now, she has an album cover to design. As always, she does the best she can. As always, she feels that doubt that she’ll live up to expectations. But also, as always, Jagged adores the final design.

Marinette sighs in relief.

She doesn’t take time away from studying to make the album cover. She works on it during breaks and between classes while she’s just hanging around the university. It’s just a drawing, too, so once she gets the design solidified, most of her time spent on it is getting it to a state where it’s presentable. It’s still a time-consuming process, but it’s something she can pick up and work on for a few minutes here and there, rather than devoting entire evenings to.

That said, once she’s finished with it and it’s sent off to Penny and Jagged, Marinette redoubles her focus on her studies. The possibility of designing for Jagged’s next tour is too great an opportunity to pass up, so she has to be organized, be ready, and blow her midterms away.

She won’t be that girl that overworks herself committing too much to others at the sacrifice of her own well-being anymore. That was Ladybug Marinette. Jon told her not to sacrifice herself, and this qualifies, too. If she’s not up to snuff on the midterms, she will turn down the commission. Jagged understands, as does Penny. There will be more opportunities. Heck, there’s the retroactive opportunity whenever he announces that she designed his last few notable outfits. But if she messes up university, that’s not so easily made up, and she’s already butchered one semester with drama.

Her priorities are in order, and for what seems like the first time in a long while she’s happy with them, so she studies. She finds her routine. Classes in the morning, with some time between them out and about for lunch or to talk to friends, then she comes home in the evening, writes down all her assignments on her whiteboard, and starts checking them off one by one.

Jon makes dinner on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, because his classes let out earlier than hers do, but her Tuesday and Thursday are less crowded than his, so she takes dinner duty then, giving him a little extra time to do homework and study as well. They eat together every evening and use the time to chat and forget about studies for an hour or two. It works for them, based on their schedules this semester. Next semester they’ll have to reorganize, but that’s just fine with them. That’s just the way things are in university.

Most days, Marinette doesn’t have much to do after dinner. Since she’s not behind on her work anymore, she gets everything done by the time dinner is ready, so she either studies if she needs to, or relaxes, plays video games, designs if she feels like it. (And if she sketches out some designs for Jagged’s tour, then that’s just less work for her to do after she aces the midterms and takes the commission.) More than a few times, she and Jon have a movie night just because they’re both feeling good about what they’re doing and want to take that small moment to celebrate themselves. Sometimes, it’s nothing so fancy as that, and they’re just watching the television and the other comes in and joins them for no reason at all.

“By the way,” Marinette says suddenly, drawing Jon’s lazy attention. “Did your friends ever get together? David and Tamias?”

Jon shakes his head with a smile on his lips. “No. They’re still pining.”

“Gross.”

“Tell me about it.”

Marinette giggles. “Honestly, that whole situation is freaky to me. It makes me have flashbacks to collège.”

“Pfft. Your friends did the same thing to you, right?”

She groans. “Yes. I had the dumbest crush on Adrien, and Alya was always trying to set us up.”

“Is the crush really that dumb if you ended up dating him?” Jon asks.

“You did not know me during the crush phase.” Marinette says. “It was really dumb. Thank god I’m older and wiser now. It does make watching grown men do the same thing a little surreal, though.”

Jon snickers. “You should tell David that. Maybe you’ll embarrass him enough to square up.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s doing his best. I’m not going to make it harder on him.”

Jon hums. “In his defense, things tend to catch on fire around David. Once, I kid you not, he accidentally set his homework on fire from the sun going through his glasses.”

“He what? You’re joking.”

“I swear. I was there. It was stupid and hilarious, and it ruined a perfectly good opportunity for him to tell Tamias how he feels, so I kind of can’t blame him for messing it up all the time.”

“And things like that happen all the time?”

Jon nods. “Oh, yeah. It’s like he’s clumsy, but instead of tripping and dropping stuff, things catch on fire or explode. It’s kind of weird how often that happens to him. Frankly, I’m a little surprised he’s alive.”

Marinette shivers at the thought. “Keep him away from FIT, will you? We do not want a fire around all those textiles.”

“Oh, yikes. Yeah, he’s never invited to your school, ever.” Jon chuckles. “Speaking of, though, how’s midterm prep coming?”

“Good as it can, I think.” Marinette says. “You?”

He groans. “Good as it can, I suppose.”

Marinette giggles at his tone. “That’s not very reassuring.”

“Listen, I’m taking an evolution class.” Jon whines. “Like, biology. It’s hard!”

“I know. But you’re a smart man. You’ve got this.”

Jon smiles good-naturedly and fixes Marinette with a look in his eyes that tells Marinette he appreciates the sentiment more than he lets on. “I’ll do my best.” He says.

Technically speaking, Marinette should rent a studio to make Jagged’s tour outfits in. She’s essentially making a small, Jagged Stone-themed collection, after all, and her apartment is not really that big. Not to mention, she’s basically prohibited from bringing guests over for secrecy’s sake. Not that Jon and she often bring guests over. They have university friends, of course, Jon more than her, but bringing them back to the apartment is rare.

But Marinette likes her apartment. And she has Jon to remind her to eat here. She can’t really help when she gets into the zone, so having someone who will remind her to take care of herself will keep her productive longer. She still hasn’t quite mastered doing it herself.

That said, Jon is living here, too, and Marinette doesn’t want to inconvenience him too much with her project. That’s why she plans everything out. It feels good to do so. She’s usually organized these days, in fact she has always been an organized person, despite often losing control of it, so having a plan of attack on this big commission is a relief when she still needs to keep up with her studies.

She doesn’t plan to finish before summer, but Jagged doesn’t need the outfits until late summer, so she’ll have time when she gets back to Paris. That said, her friends who can’t see her except over the phone for most of the year will definitely be vying for her attention, so she wants to get as much done here in New York as possible.

So, if she gets all the bases done here, she can focus on the detail work in Paris. It means all her patterning and cutting will be here, which is, annoyingly, the most time-consuming and space-consuming parts of the project, but it also means that she’ll be in a very good position once summer starts. And if she can keep on top of her schoolwork, she should have most evenings fairly free to work on it, even if it’s only an hour or two a day. That’ll add up. She just has to be organized and dedicated.

She can do this. And the first item on the list is fabric shopping. This is also the most dangerous item on the list. Even in the same store there’s no guarantee she’ll find the same fabric again if she goes back later, but the odds of finding the right fabric an ocean away? Not likely. Marinette is sure she’ll go shopping in Paris, but she plans to gather all of the essentials here.

“Hey, Jon?” Marinette says during dinner on Friday. “I’ve got a new commission, and it’s sort of a big project. I’m going to be needing to use the apartment for it. I’ll try to keep out of your way, but it’ll probably get annoying.”

Jon tilts his head cutely. “Don’t you usually do big projects over at your school?” He asks. “I’m not complaining – it’s fine – but why’re you doing this one here?”

Marinette sighs. “Because it’s a high-profile client, and technically, no one knows I work for him.”

Jon blinks, then leans forward in his seat. “Oh? This sounds interesting.”

“It’s no big deal.” Marinette says. “I had a lucky opportunity a long time ago, and he likes my style, so he keeps hiring me. But since I was barely fifteen when all that started, and I was worried about attention outing me as Ladybug, I asked him not to announce who was designing for him.”

“Ah.” Jon nods. “That makes sense. Who’s this celebrity you work for, then?”

“Jagged Stone.”

“Jagged- woah.” Jon’s jaw drops to the floor. “You’ve been working for him since you were fifteen?”

“Mhmm.” Marinette chuckles at his awe. “Nothing as big as this, of course. I did some accessories for him, and an album cover way back when. Since then I’ve been doing the occasional outfit or artwork, but now he’s asking me to do almost all of his performance outfits for his next tour. He’s been hiring me more and more as I get older. I guess he thinks I’m ready for this now.”

Jon stares dumbfounded at her. “Have told you how cool you are? Because wow. Okay. You’re a designer for a major rock artist. No big deal, right?”

Marinette rolls her eyes at his sarcasm. “As I said, I was fifteen. Believe me, I freaked out more than enough. He’s basically my weird uncle these days, so it really isn’t that big of a deal anymore.”

“It’s Jagged Stone.” Jon protests. “Come on!”

Marinette stares him down. “Really, son of Superman?”

Jon flushes and ducks his head quickly. “Ah- right, yeah. Good point.”

“Anyway, keeping me hidden served its purpose. Not that I’m not Ladybug anymore, or a teenager, I think I’m going to tell him to go crazy. So, this will probably be the last thing I do for him that I have to be so secretive about. But I’d appreciate it all the same if you don’t go talking about it yet. Jagged hasn’t announced the tour yet, so technically speaking I’m breaking NDA just telling you about it.”

“No worries. My lips are sealed.” Jon pretends to zip up his lips and toss the key over his shoulder.

“Good.” Marinette giggles. “Will you come fabric shopping with me tomorrow? Fair warning, you’re going to be carrying my bags. There will be a lot of bags.” Marinette smirks for a moment, then tacks on, “Hopefully.”

“Sounds like fun.” Jon says. “I’m in. You know, thinking about it, this might be the first chance I’ve gotten to see your whole process. From start to finish, I mean.”

Marinette laughs. “Not quite. There’s no way I’m finishing everything before summer. Not while staying on top of class. But that’s good. You won’t see the finished product until the reveal.”

Jon pouts a little, but his smile ruins it. “Fine. Be that way. Just remember me as your pack horse when you’re famous, will you?”

Marinette snorts. “Oh, Jon. You know you’re so much more valuable than a pack horse.” She playfully boops his nose with a finger as she rises to take her dish to the sink. She laughs as Jon turns entertainingly red.

With so much work to do, the rest of the semester flies by in a flash. Marinette has some detail work to hand sew that occupies her on the plane, and then she’s desperately trying to schedule time to work on the outfits while her friends are all dragging her around Paris.

It works out. She ends up having most of the summer to work on the outfits, so there’s no real rush.

She also has time to think about her decision. Keeping Jagged Stone’s designer secret stirs up more interest because of the intrigue of it all, but luckily, it’s been a few years since all that. There’s no good reason to stay hidden, especially considering she’s now working towards her dream of being a designer in earnest, rather than split between that and Ladybug.

It’s still frightening, but Marinette doesn’t let fear control her. She’s a normal girl. A normal woman. As normal as anyone is ever normal. Her quirks just happen to include a colorful past and some magic creatures living with her rather than the more average personality quirk. That’s all. She’s going to have a peaceful life.

She still screams to keep that armor up, though. To stay hidden and safe, where scrutiny can’t directly target her. Where her work is judged for its own merits or flaws rather than because of her name. Revealing herself makes her vulnerable, and what seems like a lifetime of caution has trained her to avoid this at all costs.

It’s a good idea, though. It’s time. Marinette will make the life she wants, and that life includes getting credit for her work. Fame is unnecessary, though it will be flattering if it comes, but she refuses to let people speculate and attribute her work to someone else. And she refuses to hide.

That’s why, with shaky hands and trembling breath, she tells Jagged after he accepts the outfits that he’s free to mention her now, if he wants. She’s twenty-one now and preparing for her career after university. It’s easy to say that’s why she stayed hidden so long up until this point, and why now for revealing her. Jagged knows more than just that, but that’s what he’ll tell everyone, because the truth is long and complicated and more convoluted than even Jagged knows.

Marinette sits alone in the dark in her room when Jagged announces the tour. It starts in a few months, during Autumn, and he’ll be in New York in November. I should get tickets. Marinette thinks, investigating the location. I can go with Jon. I think that’s the week before Thanksgiving, but I should ask to be sure. Jon always goes home for Thanksgiving. The concert is scheduled for Saturday, and with his powers it should be possible either way, but Marinette doesn’t want to ask him to fly around just to catch a concert with her.

I should also make sure Penny isn’t already booking us tickets.

Promptly as ever, Jagged’s first statements about the new album and tour start coming out barely minutes after the announcement. A lot of it is just generating hype, and most of the rest is praising everyone who is working to ensure the tour is going to happen. The entire team that ordinarily doesn’t see the spotlight is highlighted one by one, and Marinette is one of the first.

Designer of the most recent album’s cover art, as well as many of the tour outfits everyone will see in just a few months. Designer of his looks at the past several big-name events. All-around wonderful little lady who has been like a niece to him for years now. Jagged really spares no compliment.

It doesn’t take long before her phone starts exploding from all the notifications. A lot of her old friends, the ones in Paris, already know about her working for Jagged Stone, but no one in New York except Jon does. So she gets congratulations from those that know, shock and awe and, in an odd case, outrage, from those that don’t, all mixing into the sea of social media notifications of all of her accounts suddenly being flooded with traffic at once.

It’s all a little overwhelming. But it’s not bad. And it’s nothing she’s wholly unfamiliar with. She has a bad feeling in her gut, because she doesn’t know every way her life will change and how it won’t because of this, but she calls Alya and stays on the phone with her for a long while until, eventually, she feels ready to take on the last of the summer.

Marinette laughs as photos of old work she’s done for Jagged resurfaces, now with her name to tag onto. She confirms the work she really has done for him, but otherwise takes the rest of the summer to try to stay off of social media. She doesn’t need to worry about that right now. Instead, she turns her mind to something rather more important. Something so obvious, that somehow slipped her mind until now.

As she wonders about Jagged’s November concert and Jon’s Thanksgiving with his family, Marinette realizes that they’ve known each other for two years and never once celebrated Christmas! Obviously, they’re both home for Christmas, so they can’t celebrate the holiday itself, but that’s no reason that they shouldn’t do anything. And now that she thinks about it, Jon’s birthday is in the second semester and they haven’t really done anything special for that, either.

With her commission for Jagged Stone done, Marinette has space for a new project lined up, as well as a lot of extra cash. She thinks it’s about time she starts thinking on her next project.

——-=——-

Tag List: @moonystars14 @pawsitivelymiraculous @magic-miraculous @vixen-uchiha @buticaaba @bigpicklebananatree @lozzybowe  @moonlightstar64 @amayakans @theatreandcomicfreak​  @toodaloo-kangaroo​ @too0bsessedformyowngood​  <3

[authenticcadence18]

“Do You Trust Me?” Chapter 2/Conclusion

HEYYYY GUYS. Back in February, I wrote a few fics for @lovesquarefluffweek, including one called “Do You Trust Me?” that was based on a few of my favorite scenes in Aladdin and ended on a bit of a cliffhanger 😅

I am pleased to tell you that I have FINALLY finished the second and final part of this fic! (I wanted to finish it in time for Ladrien June, but alas...t’was not meant to be). I’d highly recommend reading Chapter One before moving on to this one, if you haven’t already. 

I want to thank the amazing @youruinedmylifebynotbeingreal for beta reading/proofreading this piece and the lovely @macaronsforchat for motivating me to finish it once and for all! Y’all ROCK!!

AO3

....

Adrien never tired of feeling wind dance though his hair as he vaulted across Paris as Chat Noir. There was a confidence involved with every burst of air, an assuredness that he COULD be his own person and ensure his own freedom, at least for a little while.

He’d leapt over rooftops and soared high above the city more times than he could count. He loved it--how could he not??--but it was normal to him by now. He’d grown used to it.

…...but Adrien would never grow used to soaring over Paris in the arms of his Lady.

Seeing the city from Ladybug’s perspective took Adrien’s breath away….which was a little embarrassing, considering he’d seen all these landmarks from above dozens, if not hundreds of times, AND typically accompanied by Ladybug herself.

But being gathered in her arms as she swung across the city? Untransformed and completely dependent on her for safety?

It was just an extension of the trust he felt for her as Chat…..and it was invigorating.

….especially considering he became more and more certain who lay beneath her mask with every leap she took.

...

Marinette was observant.

Perhaps a little too observant when it came to Adrien. (At least according to Alya, anyway).

But Alya didn’t notice the things Marinette did.

Such as the way Adrien had slowly been deflating over the past week.  

She sensed it in the smiles that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

In the snippets of overheard phone calls in which Adrien looked pained and the person on the other line--presumably his father or Nathalie--sounded angry.

And in the way he looked just as sad as Alya--if not more so--when Nino didn’t show up for school for multiple days due to a bout with the flu.

By Friday, Marinette ached to ask Adrien what was wrong because she just KNEW something had to be wrong. So she did.

He didn’t say much. Just a hasty, “Oh, I’m alright! Just a bit tired, that’s all...I’ve had a busy week.”

Marinette didn’t believe him for a minute. She wanted to help him so badly, but wasn’t sure how…

And then she realized.

Perhaps it would be difficult to help him as Marinette…..but Ladybug would have an easier time at it.

….

After a half hour or so of exploring the city, Ladybug swung unto a nearby rooftop and gently set Adrien down before reeling in her yo-yo.

“This spot has a great view of the river,” she explained, sitting down and gesturing for Adrien to follow suit.

Adrien did just that, heart still racing from the exhilaration of the ride (and from the close proximity to his lady, of course).

“Would you like a macaron?” Ladybug asked, revealing a small paper bag tucked away beside a chimney. She retrieved a cookie from the bag and offered it to Adrien with a warm smile.

Adrien accepted the gift and took a bite. His breath caught as the familiar flavor dissolved over his tongue. “Is this passionfruit flavored?”

Ladybug nodded (perhaps a bit smugly).

“That’s my favorite!! How did you know?”

She shrugged with a coy grin. “A hero never reveals her secrets.”

...only one other person had ever offered Adrien a passionfruit macaron.

And she just so happened to be the same person who’d recently helped Adrien escape a rooftop similar to the one he and Ladybug were seated on now.

Marinette.

Adrien bit his lip, stealing a glance at his Lady—at....Marinette?—as she gazed at the stars and nibbled on a macaron.

He’d never spent this much time with her without a miraculous—unless, of course, she and Marinette were indeed the same person.

He was 90% sure of her identity this point…the passionfruit macarons she’d brought him only contributed more puzzle pieces to the final image that had been growing in his mind ever since she’d reached out to him earlier in the night....but the remaining 10% insisted it couldn’t be true, that it would be too good to be true, that Ladybug would be ANGRY with him if it were true so he might as well try to forget about the possibility and move on with his life.

Still, if his Lady really WAS Marinette, he couldn’t just keep it a secret from her. He had to tell her the truth.

And if she wasn’t? If the uncanny similarities between the two of them that sent his heart racing were just coincidences?

No harm done then.

(There wasn’t a pang in Adrien’s chest at that thought. No way.)

….

"...so....do you want to talk about it?"

Adrien's pulse skyrocketed.

"What? Huh?? Talk about what??"

Did she know?

Did she know he knew??

Ladybug cocked her head at him, seemingly puzzled.

"About whatever's bothering you. We don't have to, if you don't want to. I just thought it might help."

Adrien let out a relieved sigh.

"Oh! That."

He supposed the "sorry I figured out your secret identity, but in my defense, it was only because you’re just so amazingly wonderful" conversation could wait a bit longer.

"Well, I mean....”

What harm was there in telling Ladybug...in telling Marinette...what was bothering him?

She was a superhero. She was probably as good at keeping secrets as he was.

"My father....well, I haven't really seen much of him this week....and I wonder if it's because he doesn't really want to see ME. I see Nathalie, my father's assistant, all the time...but this week she's just been acting like him. Cold. Only seeming to notice the things I do wrong.”

A dark scowl passed over Ladybug’s face.

"Don't get me wrong, I love my father!!" Adrien insisted as he caught a glimpse of the storm clouds brewing in Ladybug’s eyes.

"It's just....this week he's being less supportive than usual. Yeah, that's it. And then, one of my best friends has been absent from school for the past few days because he's sick. Usually I'm able to talk to him about this stuff and he makes it easier, but now I can't even visit him....and I don't want to text him about it, because what if my Father or Nathalie take my phone and find out?? They'd be so disappointed in me... And I already feel bad enough for telling Nino about some of my problems...I didn't want to burden any of my other friends with them..."

A wave of sadness and clarity rolled over Ladybug's shoulders at that final statement. No wonder Adrien hadn't gone into any specifics with her at school.

".....I probably shouldn't be telling you this…” Adrien muttered after a few seconds of contemplation, gazing down to the ground below. “You already have the weight of the world on your shoulders, you don't need my personal problems added to the mix...I’m sorry…..”

"Adrien.”

The sharpness in Ladybug’s tone snapped Adrien out of his lonesome stupor.

Ladybug placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it.

“Listen to me....you are NOT a burden. And you are NOT in the wrong for wishing your father and Nathalie treated you differently.”

Adrien knew that. Deep down, somewhere, he knew it, even if it was hard to believe.

It still felt good to hear Ladybug say it though.

But she wasn’t done.

"...you are so loved, Adrien.

You are loved in ways and to lengths you don't even realize, in ways you can’t even IMAGINE.  I guess the main reason I brought you out here tonight was so I could tell you that."

".....how could you know that?" Adrien breathed softly.

"Oh...a bug has her ways...." Ladybug replied with a gentle smile. "And you trust me, don't you, Adrien? You know I’m telling the truth.”

That sealed the deal. It was official.

Ladybug was in fact Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

And suddenly, Adrien didn’t want to keep this knowledge to himself any longer.

“You know, I’ve also been having a bit of trouble with school,” Adrien said, trying to conceal a wobble in his voice. “You know that reading assignment Ms. Bustier assigned us to analyze this weekend? I just don’t understand it.”

“Wait, really?” Marinette asked, cocking an eyebrow.  “I didn’t think it was too bad. Maybe I can help you with it before Monday.”

Adrien’s breath caught in his throat.

A wave of nausea struck Marinette as her brain caught up to her tongue. She slammed on her breaks...but the car ahead of her was already hit.

“.......uh. I mean…….”

Oh no. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. This WASN’T REAL. Adrien could NOT know she was his classmate.

It was okay. She could fix this. Ladybug could fix this.

“I mean, I Alya told me all about the reading assignment earlier today!!!! We talk sometimes because of her Ladyblog, that’s all….”

She made the mistake of glancing at Adrien...and any remaining words fizzled out on her tongue...because he was gazing at her as if she’d hung all the stars in the sky.

There was a softness...an assuredness in his gaze unlike anything Marinette had ever known.

Adrien had never looked at her—with or without her mask—like this before.

Luka had never looked at her like this.

Even Chat Noir, with all his pining and devotion and declarations of love, had never looked at her like this..

Adrien’s eyes seemed to capture her entire being. He saw all of her...he looked like he’d spent a lifetime searching for his other half and had finally found it in her.

“....it’s you,” he whispered softly. Reverently.

“Marinette.”

The logical part of Marinette screamed for her to DENY and ESCAPE before it was too late.

……..but the corner of her heart that had never quite given up on Adrien refused to settle for

that.

“I….okay…..I’m Marinette...” she breathed.

Adrien’s eyes shone. “I knew it.”

“But….but...but how did you know?” Marinette asked.

“Uh….” Adrien hesitated. He couldn’t really explain how he’d figured it out without compromising his own identity...and would Marinette want him to do that?

Fortunately, he was spared from facing this predicament for the time being because Marinette was talking again.

“I mean, I’ve barely been the guardian for a month! I thought I was being so CAREFUL, but somehow you figured it out and if YOU figured it out, what if someone ELSE figured it out?? Oh GOSH I am a HORRIBLE guardian and everyone probably knows my secret identity now and this is SO BAD--” “Woah, slow down!!” Adrien interjected with a chuckle, taking Marinette’s hand in his own and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You are definitely NOT a horrible guardian. You’re the most amazing person ever!! You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise. And no one else knows! Don’t worry: your secret is safe with me.”

Marinette gazed at him, a blush glowing faintly on her cheeks and the hint of a smile gracing her face.

Perhaps Adrien knowing her identity wouldn’t be so bad. She WAS the guardian now, after all, and had more responsibilities than ever. He could help keep her secret, maybe even help her come up with excuses if she needed to leave school more often.

….but Chat Noir would be disappointed when she told him Adrien Agreste had figured out her identity before he learned it for himself.

Wait.

Chat Noir.

Suddenly, Marinette remembered icy blue eyes bearing the grief of a hundred restless, lonely nights boring into her.

Oh no.

Oh NO.

“Oh no, no, NO, Adrien, you CAN’T know who I am, this is so bad, this is so bad, the last time this happened….oh gosh, oh no--”

Adrien’s face blanched as Ladybug--Marinette--his lady began to shake.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! Please don’t cry, it’ll be okay, I won’t tell anyone, I promise…..”

Adrien was sitting closer to her now, rubbing circles into her back in an attempt to calm her down and unable to comprehend why his lady was so distraught when she’d seemed alright just a minute ago.

Normally, Marinette would have been over the moon to be so close to Adrien.

But the thought of poor Chat Noir all alone in a barren Paris was too horrible to be chased away by Adrien’s close proximity.

“It’s all my fault…..” Marinette wept. “I’m a horrible Ladybug...I can’t even keep my identity a secret and now Chat Noir will suffer for it….”

Adrien stiffened. What did Chat Noir have to do with any of this?

“You are NOT a horrible Ladybug, Marinette….” Adrien assured her. “It’s not your fault that I found out your identity, honestly! Why is this so bad?”

Was HE the problem? Did Marinette already know his identity? Was she disappointed?

Marinette bit her lip, straining to hold back tears that threatened to continue falling.

“...the last time you found out my identity, Chat Noir was akumatized….” she sniffled.

Adrien’s stomach plummeted. “Wait, what? What do you mean? What last time? And I--er--I never saw any footage of Chat Noir as an akuma! I mean, unless you count Copycat, which I don’t.”

Adrien wished he could forget THAT day.

“You’re right, he hasn’t been akumatized…” Marinette agreed. “...not anymore, anyway.”

Shadows of an abandoned city haunted Marinette’s eyes as she gazed out over Paris. Adrien couldn’t see what she was seeing...and yet he shuddered .

“But in an alternate timeline…” Marinette whispered. “...you found out my identity. And somehow it led to Chat Noir finding out my identity….which led to him being akumatized.”

An alternate timeline? A faint shudder glided along Adrien’s shoulders, phantoms of a life he never lived chilling him to the bone.

“But….but how? I only figured out your identity today,” Adrien replied.

“It wasn’t always this way….do you remember the beret I brought you from your fanclub in Brazil?”

“Yeah! I love that beret! But that was a while ago...what does that have to do with this?”

Ladybug bit her lip. “Well….that beret was actually from me. Marinette. I meant to give it to you as Marinette, but you weren’t home...so I left it in your room as Ladybug. In the original timeline, I signed my name on the card and bugged out without being seen...or at least that’s what I thought. But then Bunnix grabbed me and brought me to the future that mistake led to...a future where Chat Noir had been akumatized and...and bad things happened.

“It isn’t that I don’t trust you Adrien, I do!! But somehow, you learning my secret identity led to Chat’s akumatization….”

Adrien considered his next words carefully. If he’d been akumatized for knowing Ladybug’s identity in the past--or, well, in the future--he had to tell her the truth about his own identity.

Maybe doing so would prevent anything bad from happening this time around.

“Well, I’m not sure why Chat Noir would have gotten akumatized...but I think I know how he was able to figure out your identity….” he said thoughtfully.

“What? How??”

“Well, Chat and I both have a similar...perspective on things…” Adrien said slowly. “...you could say that, if I figured out your identity, Chat would too.”

“but...but...you mean you told him?” Marinette asked incredulously. “I don’t understand.”

Adrien bit his lip before continuing. “Well, when two beautiful girls, one with a mask and one without, ask you to trust them twice in the same week, it’s hard NOT to see behind the second girl’s mask and find the first girl beneath.”

Ladybug’s eyes narrowed, the gears in her head turning. “But...I barely talked to you as Marinette last week...the only other person I asked to trust me is….”

Her breath caught in her throat.

“Chat.”

A roguish glint twinkled in Adrien’s eye.

“We should hang out like this more often, m’lady.”

….

“Oh my gosh. Ohhh my gosh. Oh my GOSH OH MY GOSH.”

Marinette was hyperventilating, looking around in every direction but at Adrien, as if searching for some sort of clarity in the vast city sprawling below them.

“You’re Chat Noir. You’re CHAT NOIR. YOU’VE BEEN CHAT NOIR ALL THIS TIME OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH it all makes SENSE but it also DOESN’T OH GOSH.”

“Are...are you upset?” Adrien dared to ask as Marinette paused to take a few breaths. “I know you wanted us to keep our identities a secret, but--” “Upset?” Marinette let out a strained laugh. “No, no, I’m not upset. I just….all this time...two of the people I care about more than anything in the world...they’ve been the same person. It’s just...I...it’s a lot to process…”

“Believe me.” Adrien squeezed her hand gently. “I know the feeling.

“Do you want me to transform? Would that make you feel more comfortable with...all this?”

“No, no!!” Marinette stuttered, gesturing about. “I mean! If you want to transform, that’s fine! But if you don’t want to, that’s fine too! Whatever you want to do...anything is fine.”

Her gaze was still distant. She wouldn’t look at him.

“...are you thinking about the future?” Adrien asked, trying to ignore the pit of dread slowly forming in his gut.

“....maybe….” Marinette replied softly. She clenched her eyes shut, as if to chase away the images haunting her mind.

“Do you want to talk about it? Maybe we can figure out how I got akumatized back then, figure out how to keep it from happening again.”

“No…” Marinette took a deep breath. “I think it might be best if I took you home. I don’t want your father discovering you’ve been gone for so long, considering how he’s been treating you this week.

“Or, you know, if you’d rather transform and go home yourself, that’s alright too! I just...I think I need more time to think about all this. Before we figure out how things are going to work from here.”

“Will I need to give my miraculous back?”

Marinette finally looked at him at that.

“Are you kidding? No one can be my partner but you, Chaton. You’re irreplaceable. You know that.”

She caressed his palm with the tip of her thumb.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

For a few seconds, Marinette and Adrien sat in silence...Marinette finding the partner she’d grown to depend on and care for so much in the features of the boy she’d loved from the day they met, and Adrien seeing beyond the mask of his lady for the girl who’d been there for him since they shared an umbrella on a fateful rainy day.

Adrien broke the silence with a whispered request.

“...do you mind taking me home? I think Plagg is asleep in my jacket, and I’d hate to wake him.”

“...I’d be happy to.”

…..

It was our love that did this to the world, m’lady.

The words echoed in Ladybug’s head like a warning siren as she soared over Paris, their volume only amplified by the proximity of the boy she cradled in her free arm.

Chat Noir loved her.

ADRIEN loved her.

And that love had destroyed their world.

Learning the identity of her partner brought many of the walls Marinette had constructed around her feelings crashing down. She now understood just how deeply she cared for Chat Noir...understood why the feelings lingering beneath the surface of her subconscious felt right, even though she loved Adrien so much already.

Those feelings were one and the same. And now?

They were stronger and ever.

But new walls were already sprouting to take the place of the old ones.

Because now, loving Adrien--AND loving Chat--meant risking everything.

Paris.

The world.

And above all….Adrien himself.

Marinette never wanted him to suffer the heartache and devastation his alternate counterpart had. How could she confess her feelings to him when she knew the horrible outcome that could follow it? That had ALREADY followed it?

Maybe Bunnix wouldn’t be able to save them this time.

She couldn’t reveal her feelings. Not yet, anyway.

It wasn’t safe.

….

“Thank you for tonight, Mari...uh...Ladybug...I feel better than I have in a long time.”

A smile tugged at Marinette’s lips as she swung to a stop at Adrien’s window and helped her partner climb inside. She remained outside, still held taut by her yo-yo string. “I’m glad I was able to help...even if YOU took our discussion in a direction I never would have expected.”

Adrien smirked. “Cats have a way of bringing things out of the bag.”

Marinette rolled her eyes with a grin. “So I’ve learned.”

“You know, speaking of our discussion....” Adrien leaned out over the railing until he was looking up at Ladybug as she dangled a few feet above him. “Hearing you say how loved I am as Ladybug reminded me of how compassionate and caring you are as Marinette, which was more or less definitive proof that you ARE Marinette, you know?

“But...even if that was a very ‘Marinette’ thing of you to say...I can’t help but wonder who you were referring to. Who could love me that much?”

“Uhh, uhhhh…..”

Marinette was blushing and CURSING herself for blushing because this was a matter of literal life-and-death but she just couldn’t help it. She’d been relying on the elusiveness of her identity to conceal the fact she was talking about her own love for Adrien as Ladybug, but now that they knew each other’s identities, that elusiveness had been nullified...and she’d basically admitted her feelings to Adrien already.  

“Our friends!” she finally stuttered, doing her best to sound casual.

“Our friends love you! And our teachers! And myself, of course, because of COURSE I love you! Er, as my friend! Just like Alya loves you! Or Nino!”

Adrien couldn’t help but smile at her rambling explanation, even if the words themselves weren’t quite what he was hoping for. There was the Marinette he knew and...well…

He didn’t allow his mind to finish that statement.

“That’s what I figured!” he replied with a smile. “I just wanted to make sure.”

“Well, anyway, I should probably head home…” Marinette said, already envisioning flopping on her bed and shrieking at Tikki for a couple of hours. “I still have some studying to do.”

“I guess I’ll see you at school on Monday,” Adrien replied. “Or maybe for patrol before then?”

“Maybe!” Marinette replied with a smile. “And Adrien…

“If you ever need to escape or just, you know, sneak out and hang out with our friends...just let me know. Ladybug is always willing to protect an unsuspecting akuma target or potential akuma victim by stealing him away for a few hours.”

There was a hint of truth in the latter part of that statement that didn’t really resonate with Marinette until it left her tongue. Adrien, fortunately, didn’t seem to pick up on it at all, as his face was beaming.

“I’ll definitely take you up on that, m’lady.”

“Good. Well, uh...bug out, I guess!”

Marinette tugged on the yo-yo string, prepared to make her exit as gracefully as possible.

...but her yo-yo apparently had other plans tonight.

Perhaps by chance, perhaps by luck, or perhaps by divine kwami intervention, Ladybug’s yo-yo did not send her shooting into the sky as it normally did. Rather, it sent her barreling downward.

Not too far downward, fortunately.

Just far enough to crash into Adrien’s lips with her own.

The first few seconds were a kaleidoscope of emotions and feelings and sensations because THEY HADN’T DISCUSSED THEIR FEELINGS and this would make things AWKWARD and ADRIEN DIDN’T THINK MARINETTE LIKED HIM THAT WAY AT ALL and MARINETTE COULDN’T LET ADRIEN KNOW JUST HOW MUCH SHE CARED because THE WORLD WAS AT STAKE.

...but the softness of Adrien’s lips against hers rapidly tore down the walls Marinette had hastily constructed barely an hour ago.

He loved her.

She loved him.

Maybe their situation was complicated, sure, but...they loved each other.

Maybe the world was at stake...but it had always been the two of them against the world, hadn’t it?

Adrien’s first instinct was to go rigid as Marinette melted into the kiss. She didn’t like him, right? She just wanted to be friends, right?? This couldn’t be happening...right??? But as Ladybug gently cradled his face with her hand, Adrien realized he might have been wrong about all that.

It would have been quite a sight for the papers and blogs. Paris’s favorite hero and their favorite star, tenderly expressing their love for one another under a moonlit sky.

But Lady Luck was on their side tonight...the streets of Paris were quiet.

This moment was theirs and theirs alone.

….

“...so...I think I understand who you were referring to earlier….” Adrien whispered, eyes wide.

“You know….when you said I was loved in ways I couldn’t even imagine….”

Marinette’s eyes twinkled as she brushed a lock of golden hair behind his ear and leaned in to press a kiss against his cheek.

“You always were a smart kitty.”

The rational part of Marinette’s brain reminded her of why she’d been so adamant not to let this happen in the first place, and she flinched.

“We can talk more about...this...on patrol…” she said, “but for now...let’s just agree to keep everything between us, okay?”

Perhaps in the other timeline, she and Adrien had dated publicly, which led to Hawkmoth discovering their identities, Marinette reasoned. Keeping their feelings for one-another a secret might allow them to be together while also protecting themselves.

“Whatever you say, m’lady,” Adrien replied dreamily.

He didn’t need the world to know how lucky he felt to love and be loved by such an amazing girl.

All that mattered was that he knew.

“Goodnight, my beautiful princess…” he whispered.

Marinette blushed, the warmth of their kiss still lingering on her lips and the joy of finally, FINALLY expressing her feelings to Adrien bringing tears to her eyes.

They’d find a way to make this work.

They WERE Ladybug and Chat Noir, after all.

“Sleep well, my prince.”

...

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! I hope it was worth the wait!! :)