#and i’m under no illusions as to how incredibly lucky i am because i know i am

[roy-kents]

just remembered i’m finally starting my dream degree in a little over a month and got the urge to giggle and kick my feet

[leapyearkisses]

For the director's cut: Could you do Nice Work If You Can Get It? (Eliseo/Padgett)

That fic... Changed me. I'll never forget it TBH.

Yes, I'd be happy to! This one was really fun to write, and it was the beginning of two OCs I am very fond of now (and who I am happy to know made an impression on quite a few people!).

(If anyone enjoys this director's cut thing and wants to see one for another of my stories, ask away. I had a lot of fun!)

Commentary in bold below the cut! NSFW, mess, deliberately sneezing on people, m/m

This story started from a prompt about one character hiring someone to get them sick. An intriguing idea!! But it was one I actually struggled with finding a groove for when I started out. I actually started a few different scenarios with different character dynamics before I figured this one out. I have a 2600-word WIP of a different version of this in my "unfinished" folder.

"All right... close your eyes." Eliseo swallowed and did so, blocking out his bedroom, the red-gold sunset light pouring in from the windows, and Padgett, who was straddling his hips. He could still hear, quite easily, the other man's labored breathing and feel the heat of his thighs... and his crotch. Eliseo was under no illusion that he was in an incredibly compromising position at the moment. He hadn't thought much about the.. particulars when he'd first decided to strike this deal. "Are we really doing this?" he asked, voice weak.

I can't really write fetish porn without including actual porn lol, so from the beginning it was sexy even without the snz. In this version, the POV character is Eliseo, who is the "naive" character in a way. I pretty much write pairs where one character has the fetish and their partner does not but is indulgent. The one with the fetish is usually embarrassed about it or somehow naively realizing they like this weird-ass thing. Padgett laughed, voice tumbled and edging on hoarse. "Hey now. Not getting cold feet are we, my lord?" His exhale ghosted over Eliseo's forehead and his tousled black hair touched Eliseo's cheek.

Padgett is the confident character, and he brought the humor to this scenario! Eliseo cleared his throat. "No..." He could imagine the other man's smug look. They'd known each other long enough now that the image rose unbidden to his mind's eye. Padgett's eyes always glittered like opals when he was scheming something. Padgett surprised him with a tender touch on the shoulder, and he almost opened his eyes again. "The safe word is 'pumpernickel,'" he said, managing not to chuckle. "We can stop whenever you want... Hhk-" He fought off a gasp. "Decide hh quickly, though." Eliseo shivered. "I'm okay. Let's do it." He didn't want to admit it, but Padgett's reassurance did put him at ease, even if this had been his idea. He relaxed and tried to lose himself in the late afternoon heat. "Yehh-s, my lord." Padgett leaned forward and took a shaky breath. It stuttered and caught on invisible hooks, sounding at once to be full of potential and then gone again, like a ghost at the window. Eliseo could feel his body tightening again with anticipation, especially when Padgett gasped and leaned back. "Hh-... hah--

"A ghost in the window" eehhh this is kind of overworked. I like to write descriptively even when it isn't necessary. "Huh-ktschht!" A warm rush of air burst in Eliseo's face, almost immediately followed by a watery spray over his forehead, closed eyes, and nose. His instant reaction was to curl back, or try to, and he had his hands braced on Padgett's chest before he could think about it.

I had never written anything quite this scandalous as it were. There hadn't been a lot of snzfic I had read where there was direct, purposeful contagion like this or quite so much mess description directly on the skin, the face even. So I was sweating while writing this lol. "Hey now," said Padgett, delayed by a sniffle. His tone was light. "Easy. You specified this in the contract, remember?" He rested his hands lightly on Eliseo's wrists. "How are you feeling about it?"

CONSENT IS THE SEXIEST THING. We get this instinctual edge of revulsion from Eliseo because he has not acknowledged to himself that he likes snz yet and also he has never allowed anyone to do this to him before because why would anyone do this? Eliseo found he was holding his breath, but- Well, that would defeat the purpose of this exercise. He cautiously let it go and then opened his eyes. Padgett was gazing down at him, looking neither smug nor concerned, just curious. "I- this was on instinct," Eliseo murmured. After a beat, he lowered his hands, and Padgett let him go easily. "Yes, I imagine so. It's natural." Padgett smiled then, and then his expression crinkled. "Wh- hh- want to do it again? Hkt-- hhh..." Eliseo forced himself to surrender again to his pillows. "Yes." Again, he closed his eyes. Padgett shifted forward on his lap and oh- but then he was sneezing one more. "Huh- hktsschit!" Again, the spray. This time it dusted over Eliseo's nose and mouth. He fought to keep from thinning his lips and... took a deeper breath. Padgett hadn't moved, was still fighting with his own lungs, reeling in another insistent sneeze like a stubborn trout. "Huh- hh... hh hh huh-" He made an annoyed sound. "Hah-- hah-krttschtts!" Eliseo felt droplets of saliva decorate his cheekbone. Padgett sniffled thickly.

I think artists often point out how funny it is that when they're drawing they mimic the face of the character. I do this with sneeze sounds (IF I'M ALONE). I tend to like softer sounds for my characters, so a lot of sibilance creeps in. "...Bless you," Eliseo murmured. He was feeling hot. Maybe it was Padgett on top of him. The man was running a fever. "You are... doing the job admirably." That earned him a laugh. Padgett shifted his weight to his heels, which did interesting things to his cock's relation to Eliseo's own. "Thanks, I guess? I never would have thought anyone would be hiring for this, much less you." "Circumstances are dire," Eliseo intoned without a hint of irony.

Eliseo is a card. I love him. Of the two of them he is much more my preferred "type." He is similar to my mage character Llewellyn but less fussy. "Mmhm." Padgett sniffled again. "You must really hate weddings. Couldn't you have just gone on a hunt or something this weekend instead?" Eliseo sighed. "No. My sister would do anything to ruin my plans if I tried to avoid the party any normal way. But luckily, she's terrified of germs. I think a miserable head cold will be the ticket." Like hell he wanted to sit through another of his sister's weddings. Every time it was some new, world-changing drama. He wasn't even sure whether the groom this time was noble born. No doubt the reception gossip would be scathing. What absolute drivel.

There's a little "my lord" up there before, but this is kind of where the setting is characterized - Eliseo is a noble and this is a time and place where nobility matters. However, it's also anachronistic, because germ theory is a thing. They're kind of in a pseudo Regency/Victorian world where I just write whatever feels like the most fun. "Lucky also that you have me around, hm?" Padgett's next chuckle turned into a bit of a cough. Eliseo patted his knee awkwardly. "I- well, yes. Very. But believe me when I say that I would not wish for you to be so stricken if I had the power to stop it."

People with shitty immune systems are my jam. Even if it's really unlikely, I love it. Sometimes especially if it's unlikely. Like mister high elf Llewellyn, or if they're a god or angel or something. Or in a world where if you had that bad of an immune system you probably would have died of diphtheria or pneumonia by now. "Of course, my lord." Padgett rubbed his nose. And though his breath hitched a few times in the following moments, he stayed where he was. Eliseo blinked. "Are we...?" Done? He didn't really think the exposure had been long enough. "I am ready." Padgett blushed a little. Blushed? "Sorry," he said. "I can kind of feel that, uh, the uh, next ones are going to be kind of... wet. I could blow my nose." His voice trailed off, wavering again. His nostrils twitched, and Eliseo did see within the promise of moisture. Perhaps it was the taboo of it, but Eliseo was alerted instantly to a sudden thickening of his cock. It pressed at his trousers with some gusto as Padgett sniffled again. Eliseo swallowed. "No. No, this is good. This will... help."

After consent, MESS is the sexiest thing. That's just how it goes. I don't make the rules. Padgett gave him a considering look, at least as well as he could between soft gasps and squinting against the itch in his nose. "If you're sure, my lord." "Just- call me Eli, like you used to," said Eliseo, stumbling over the words. He wasn't sure where they had come from, but now they were bare between them. Still, perhaps a bit of affection wasn't so odd compared to what they were already doing. Eliseo closed his eyes on Padgett's startled look.

I wasn't sure where this came from either. But suddenly they were in love and I was cool with it. Eli btw is pronounced like the name (Ee-lye) but Eliseo is pronounced Ell-ee-zay-oh in my mind. It's of Latin origin and means "God is my salvation" according to that authority Babynames.com lol. Padgett means "attendant" so that was chosen partially because he's Eliseo's employee but also because Padgett is just a SUPER English-sounding name. I really enjoy looking up name meanings and representing different traditions in my characters. I tried to give Eliseo's family members Latin names, too, although they're not mentioned here. "Eli," Padgett said, and he sounded like he'd just come home from a long war to find the hearth kept warm for him. "I will." He leaned forward again, bracing himself. "Now, I'm going to- to hih-- to snhhsneeze, hah-- haktschtsch! Hrh- Hnkgstschhiu! More spray this time, more wetness, and Eliseo gasped himself when he felt a thick drip against his chin. Padgett hadn't moved. When Eliseo tentatively looked up, he saw his friend caught in a limbo of urgency. His green eyes were shut, eyelashes fluttering. His nostrils, gently pink now, flared. A clear trail hung from one of them, quivering as Padgett panted. He looked wild and fever bright and teetering on a precipice. Eliseo ignored what it might mean that Padgett's desperate expression, his wet nose - even the mess - suddenly went to his cock. He was hard, looking up at a portrait of a sneeze.

Sometimes you just have to stop writing for a second and drink some cold water or something. Carefully, he placed a hand on Padgett's thigh. "It's okay," he said, words coming of their own accord. "I've got you." Padgett's fingers tightened fitfully in the sheet as he shifted his weight again. He was making soft, irritated noises. His nostrils flared and Eliseo saw another drip lying in wait on the cusp.

Fingers tightening fitfully in a sheet is a thing I love to describe. If you binge-read everything I've written, you will find that I write snz and sex in a very particular way over and over. Because that's what I like! And I'm super glad readers like it as well! But I can basically only find the motivation to write what I enjoy (when I write at all... .__.), which is why I only write m/m or nb characters and such. When the urge became too much, it was like watching a wave finally crash down. Padgett's breath caught; he tensed and leaned back. Eliseo hurriedly closed his eyes again, and none too soon. "Hhhhrektschuckh!" He felt the mess streak his face, fly to spatter his mouth and nose and chin. Padgett moaned and then gasped again, chest swelling with air.

SCANDALOUS "Hah- Huhrttschuh! Hshtt! Hah- hsshtt!" Again, he teetered, teasing the air with shivering gasps. Then, he abruptly folded with a crush of vowels and congestion. "Hggtschiucht!" A baptism, pondered Eliseo's brain as it detached from reality momentarily. Pinned as he was to the bed by Padgett's sex, he couldn't move when he felt himself coming just as abruptly as the sneeze. Somehow the slick wash had become a mounting sense of urgency in each of his muscles, racing from his fingertips and toes to his abdomen, where, quite unbidden, his cock had tugged all that energy into a gut-wrenching orgasm that sent the shockwaves back out with renewed vigor. Padgett whined, and Eliseo took him firmly by the shoulders and drew him in for a messy, off-putting, contagious, blindingly good kiss. "Wow," said Padgett, when they finally broke for air.

Wow, lol. I have a great imagination. I wish I could make myself write more often. "Don't ask me why," Eliseo muttered, but he refused to be made a fool of by embarrassment. "C- come here." He shifted to sit up further and put his hands on Padgett's hips. "I want-" He wanted. "This. Yes?" Before he could stop himself, he swept his tongue over Padgett's mouth, under his nose, to rest at the edge of a nostril. He tasted salt. It was not entirely pleasant, but whatever pilot was captaining his body right now didn't care. He could still feel his cock pulsing against his trousers.

Also the first time I wrote anything like this, but Eliseo was like go big or go home, so. Padgett moaned. "It feels... odd. But, my lord, you can do what you- I mean, Eli." He was breathless for different reasons now. Eliseo laved the tender skin above Padgett's lips, then licked up his septum. When Padgett shivered, Eliseo kissed him again. Slowly, he cleaned away the mess from Padgett's face. When he was finished, neither of them knew what to say. Eliseo was hard again.

Huahaha Eliseo can have an unrealistic refractory period. I don't really give a shit how accurate this stuff is when it would get in the way of the enjoyment. Not to the point where people are just going in without lube or something crazy like that, but being willing and able to go again is just sexy, so that's fine. Finally, Padgett laughed shyly. "I think you'll be catching your cold, Eli." Eliseo blushed and shrugged. "I should hope so. I am-" He bit his lip. "I'm not ready to stop. Will you stay the night? I'll look after you." Padgett kissed him, tenderly drawing them together. "I would like that, very much."

And then they DEFINITELY banged. I hadn't conceptualized their specific history together at this point, but Eliseo and Padgett were FWB while younger, so the "surprise" at meeting again like this in a sexy fashion is more like "Oh, are we doing this now, as adults with drastically different social standing?" and less "Hey, are you into me??"

I got more than one request to write the direct sequel to this, but I dunno. I usually prefer one character in the pair to be the one who is sneezing, and writing Eliseo sick isn't as fun. Partially because I'm much, MUCH more interested in the shy/embarrassed/"voyeur" dynamic, so someone who gets off on their own sneezes really does nothing for me. I do have a WIP of Eliseo sick that is a direct sequel to Carriage Shenanigans, but I have no idea if it will ever get finished.

Thanks so much for the request for this very fun exercise!

[greekbros]

"greek-Bros: When in Rome, wait wut?; The Reboot Nobody Fucking Asked For"

*after two incidences with his sons, Zeus has recruited Hades and Poseidon to investigate why the living hell was so distracting about Rome*

Zeus: *poorly disguised as a shepard* Well, it is a mighty fine city indeed. It's almost comparable to Athens. Don't you think so?

Poseidon: *also poorly disguised as the world's most muscular fisherman* It is dear brother! Why even our statues here are incredibly beautiful!

Hades: *who's cleverly disgusted as an old lady* hmf.

Poseidon: What's the matter Hades? Disgruntled that you don't have a shrine dedicated to you?

Hades: No quite frankly I actually don't care about shrines or temples in my honor. *Looks around and sees the same issues that the Bois saw* .....why do the mortals here call me Pluto?

Zeus and Poseidon: *both laugh at that*

Hades: Hahaha, laugh all you want.

Centurion: YOU TWO! How DARE you laugh at that poor, ugly old crone! You're under arrest for harassing the elderly!

Hades: *grins*

Zeus: *having absolutly none of this BS* .......

Poseidon: Ugh but sir we-

Centurion: *takes out cuffs and chains, FuCkInG puts them on Zeus and Poseidon* You're coming downtown! *Drags the both of them*

Zeus: *glares into space completely understanding why his sons tried to destroy Rome*

Poseidon: But sir! You can't just thrown people in jail for laughing!

Centurion: *in a completely casual tone* I deeply sorry sir but as of late there has been a zero tolerance policy throughout the city, orders say we MUST make an immediate arrest and put you through the identification process.

Hades: *still as an old crone clicks heels and walks away to sight see*

*later*

Mortus: *looming in the dark corner of the interrogation room, walks slowly to the table and slams his fist*.....where were you on the day of the Coliseum's destruction... And if you weren't there where were you on the day of its reopening?

An innocent bean farmer: *shaking in fear* ugh....in my field sir?

Mortus: *glares at the farmer*

A Centurion: *walks in the room* Sir! We have more prisoners! I think you maybe interested in these two.

Mortus: *slowly turns around* ......if this is another dead end.... you're joining the rest of the scum at the crucifixion field.

A Centurion: *gulps* ....y-yes sir.

Mortus: Bring them in...oh and release this one.

Bean Farmer: *just fucking bolts out of the room*

Mortus: .....

Centurion: *brings in Zeus, whom already looks a little claustrophobic in the already small room* There's a second one outside.

*outside*

Poseidon: *apparently has attracted the attention of many young beautiful women* Fear not Roman citizens! For I Po-*thinks of a name*...uhm...Paul.... understands your infatuation, but alas I am happily married, BUT let that not stop you from admiring my very being! *Tries to flex while handcuffed*

The small crowd of women: *swooned*

A Centurion: oh shut up.

*inside*

Mortus: *actually a little intimidated by Zeus and his stone cold resting death face*....Well now....you rather large for a shepard. Retired I suppose?

Zeus: ....no.

Mortus: Than what is your occupation?

Zeus: ......I do not think you have the jurisdiction to ask me.

Mortus: *getting angry* Where were you when the Coliseum was being destroyed!?

Zeus: .... Probably with your mother, who I would be certain would be very ashamed that her son has decided to harass the elderly.

Mortus: *steaming mad* YOU WILL ANSWER THE QUESTION!

Zeus: I want to speak with my lawyer.

Mortus: WHAT?!?

A Centurion: Um sir, we have a Mr-*looks at a crudly written card* Plutonium? He's a law maker and legally represents the detainee.

Mortus: *feeling a cold sweat as if the devil has entered the building, looks at Zeus*

Zeus: *smiling*

Mortus: ....bring him in.

Hades: *now looks more like a mortal version of himself but now carries a satchel* Good evening my name is Cryus Plutonium and I have heard my client and his brother have been unlawfully detained. *Places a scroll on the table* Sir if I may infer, I've been working several weeks in the law office and I have found no evidence of this new "Zero tolerance policy". So I do believe you have no legal right to detain and must release him-

Poseidon: *from outside* AND ME!

Hades: -and his brother.

Mortus: *stares in disbelief* ....what.

Hades: *slowly walks to Zeus and unbinds him*

Zeus: thank you.

Hades: Now. Let us l-*feels a sword near his next* ......

Mortus: *has just about snapped* .....I've been after you and your mutant kin for a whole year and three months.....you owe not just me....but you owe the empire....an explanation.

Hades: ............

Zeus: ...........*lifts a finger, shocks him and tases Mortus, knocking him cold* ................you know something.......I think I finally understand why the children hate this place.

Hades: *shakes his head, as the two leave they see poseidon just flexing for a small crowd while the Centurion who was gaurding him is tied to a support beam*

A Centurion: Please help me.

Zeus: *points and sarcastically smiles* No. *Walks to Poseidon and drags him* It's time to go.

Poseidon: Awww....but I was just getting the crowd warmed up!

Hades: Let's just say they'll be warmed up with a few weeks of heavy thunderstorms.

Poseidon: .....can there be earthqu-

Zeus: You may bury the lot.

Poseidon: *smiles* Huzzah!

Hades: Or....we can be a little less intrusive.

Zeus: Fine, I shall ask Odin if he wants to help.

Hades: Yes my thoughts exactly.

Zeus: *still angry until he sees Octavia and little Caius and suddenly feels a little odd*......Hades.

Hades: yes

Zeus: I understand you don't have children...but what are the chances that one of my sons may have left something behind.

Hades: *trying to understand what Zeus meant until he saw Caius* Hmm....oh come now you're not going to take the child away from. His mother....or..... fornicate with her.....are you?

Zeus: .....oh damn it all....we can't destroy this city........

Poseidon: *in a singsong tone* I can! *Suddenly a little rumble starts until Zeus bonks him on the head* ~°

Zeus: No....the city of Rome...if officially protected.

Hades: ........all this because there's a bastard grandson around here isn't it?

Zeus: Silence Hades. Look at him, not a care in the world. Enjoying his moments with his dear mother talking to Hera a-WHAT THE?!?!

Hades: Wait Hera is here??

Poseidon: *rubbing his head* Hey look! It's Amphitrite too!

Hera: *talking to Octavia* Oh yes, married life is great but have you ever considered divorce?

Octavia: Oh heavens no, even though my husband has been rather distent. I'm positive he isn't in an adulterous relationship. That's punishable but crucifixion here.

Amphitrite: Well yes darling, for the WOMEN, men here get away with it scot-free.

Octavia: Oh heavens no.

Caius: *squirming a little*

Octavia: aww what the matter deary.

Hera: *knotices that Caius has few enough features of Zeus to be related but not directly enough to be his son* Aw what an adorable little baby boy. Who's the father?

Octavia: oh I'm happily married to General Mortus Biccus.

Hera: hmm....

Zeus: Oh there you are my beautiful, wonderful and not here to make sure I'm cheating on her wife! *Grits teeth* what are you doing here?!

Hera: ....I was wondering the same thing. I'm here shopping for some exotic fruits.

Amphitrite: *shows her basket of bananas*

Zeus: Oh.

Poseidon: *enthralled by the bananas* ohhhh.....

Hades: Well....I guess we can all go home then.

Octavia: Oh my! This must be your husband. You must be very lucky to have married such a big strong man.

Hera: *unamused* I am so blessed.

Zeus: *puts his arm around her* not as blessed as I am to be married to her.

Octavia: aww.

Caius: *kinda happy sensing he's found grandma and grandpa* c:

Zeus: *now getting a closer look, the baby literally looks like a spitting image of Hermes* oh my.

Mortus: THERE YOU ARE! *huffing and puffing from running* You are all under arrest!

Octavia: Oh Mortus, don't be so rude to these fine people they have done nothing wrong.

Mortus: This man shot LIGHTNING out of his finger! And that one *points to Hades* is...well he's just scary and THAT one is just annoying! *points to Poseidon*

Poseidon and Amphitrite: *sharing a banana and suddenly stop* hmf?

Mortus: These men are connected to the destruction of the coliseum last year and the disappearance of Gaius!

Zeus: ....Oh! You mean my sons? Oh yes they're actually harmless. You see, they're traveling magicians and they perform fantastic illusions!

Mortus: NO! FUCK YPU OLD MAN! I know what the people saw! Clearly something is going on! ...my suspensions are...that you...and your cohorts.....are demons!

Octavia: Mortus!

Caius: :c

Zeus: ....oh that's rather rude.

Hera: Now hang on a minute. Let's prove our innocence.

Zeus: Hera what are you doing?

Hera: .....you know, the gods are technically innocent....and exempt from being accused of any crime.

Mortus: *tempted to mention Emperor Caligula and his recent campaign against Poseidon but decided not to*

Hera: ...so...if we were gods...we would be innocent.

Octavia: Hmm...she does have a point.

Mortus: What are you getting at?

Zeus: *deep sigh* Fine...I lied.....me...my lovely wife and my brothers....are all gods......I'm actually Zeus, she's Hera and so on and so forth. My sons are were Apollo, Hermes and Dionysus....you see....it's likely their fault for losing their tempers, I apologize for that too. And I apologize for shocking you but you did threaten to crucify me.

Mortus: ..........*starts laughing hysterically and has officially lost his mind*

Octavia: Oh dear. Let's go honey, I must apologize for my husband's behavior. He's been working day and night. Oh sweetheart let's go.

Caius: byebye c: *waves*

Mortus: *while laughing like a mad man* HAHAHAH wait! I HAVE to know this but IS Caius here yours?!? HAHAHAHA I mean, I don't have BALLS! HAHAHAHAHAHA *gets dragged back home*

Zeus: ......you didn't help with that last portion did you?

Hera: No. I figured a man who looked as pathetic and desperate like that probably was already at his wit's end.... Speaking of which is that child yours?

Zeus: hmm....

*back at Olypmus*

Zeus: *pulls the ears of Hermes and Dionysus*

Hera: *helping with the situation and pulls Apollo's and Ares's ear*

Zeus: You boys are forbidden from returning to Rome. And as for you Hermes....it's one thing frolicking with farm maidens with incompetent husbands....but a war general with no testicles?....shame on you.

Hermes: *knows what he's talking about*.....worth it. *Feeling his ear getting pulled* ow~°

[burninglilys]

run till the end of time

my hand kinda slipped and then i couldn’t stop writing. i have taken some creative liberty in making it so that their exams are pushed back because this entire ordeal has been a whole lot traumatic for the kids. 

Here's the irrevocable truth: 

They've won. They've actually, veritably won. 

Their sweat and blood, and sometimes nothing but phantom desperation and determination has shaped itself into a completely intangible thing called 'victory' and has permeated into every nook and crevice of the world around them. 

They've won. 

Here's the truth that is extremely hard for Pang to fathom that he has been existing in for over a few days now: 

They've won. 

There's a voice inside his head telling him that all of this is a mere illusion; his actual reality is still muddled in layers of inequality instead of the palpable reality that he is currently living in. 

There is no need for him to look over his shoulder every step of the way, no need for him to drown in nights where sleep always seems a blink away, no need for him to think twice before he lets joy consume him whole. 

There is no need for any of that. 

They've won and Pang feels as though this is a simulation where nothing is as it is, as he has known, and that the Director is up there, superimposing his present, past, and his future, laughing at what a fool he was to have ever believed that he's won. 

But they have, is the thing. 

He's reminded that they have by the way Wave smiles, looking more relaxed than Pang has ever seen him, by how Ohm's eyes twinkle, the way they always did before all this, by how all his friends -- his family, really -- find their way to each other, their way around each other, a bond created by the constraints of dictatorial power -- something so strong that nothing could've been able to get through it. 

None of it explains why Pang feels this hollow chamber inside his chest where that fire of changing something used to be. 

Someone knocks against his shoulders, snapping him out of the syrupy reverie he finds himself in on most days. 

"You can't believe it, huh?" 

Pang blinks slowly, taking a deep breath before putting on a smile and turning towards P'Chanon. 

"How did you know?" Pang asks, ignoring the loud cry that Ohm gives out as Namtarn smears the icing on his face. 

P'Chanon shrugs. "I can't believe it either," he says.

Pang presses his lips together, swallowing. 

"Everything we fought for is over," Pang replies. 

"It is," P'Chanon says, leaning against the table. 

"I didn't have a purpose before this," Pang says. "And then there was this. And now there's nothing." 

Pang never did think of a future for himself, he realises. It's as though he lived his life with a neon sticker on his forehead, relaying to everyone who he was and moulded exactly to fit that. First, there was the stupid kid, then there was the stupid kid who was smart enough to get into Rithda, then there was the stupid Class 8 kid, then there was the lucky Class 8 Gifted kid, then it was Class 8 Kid but as a leader, after which he became the kid who was completely idealistic, and then the kid who finally succumbed to the Director. 

The reality of this has ripped the neon sign off his forehead, leaving him floundering for a person to be. 

"Oh, Pang," P'Chanon says, his voice incredibly gentle. "Pang, I know exactly what you mean. You feel lost again." 

"I am nothing without this," Pang says, even though a voice in his head that sounds a little too much like Wave disagrees. "I don't-- what am I supposed to do?" His voice comes out broken around the edges, firmed only with the number of times he's asked his reflection. 

"Pang," P'Chanon says, bumping their shoulders together again. "You find a new purpose." 

"You say as though it's easy." 

"It's not," P'Chanon says, his voice firm. "It really is not. I have been in your position before, Pang. I am in your position now." 

Pang turns to look at P'Chanon, who looks straight ahead, his jaw clenched. 

"I didn't know who I was," he says in a whisper. "For the longest time, I was a shadow of who I wanted to be. And then I remembered. So there was my purpose again-- defeating Supot. And then I was mind-controlled, of course. So there was my purpose again-- defeating Pom. And then there was nothing. Just a void in front of me."

"How did you find your purpose again?" Pang whispers. 

P'Chanon nods his head -- that is when Pang realises that P'Chanon had been looking at Khu Pom all along -- and he hears P'Chanon give out a sigh. "I had some help," he says. 

"And now?" Pang asks. 

P'Chanon nods at Khu Pom again, who is currently doing his absolute best to stop Jack and Joe from fighting over something. 

"I'll figure it out," he says with a small smile. "As will you, Pang," P'Chanon pats his shoulder. "We have all the time in the world." 

"I'm so exhausted," Pang whispers. 

P'Chanon's face turns soft. "You've fought for the generations before you and the generations that will follow. Rest now, Pang. You will find a purpose again."

P'Chanon looks ahead, and this time, Khu Pom looks back, smiling at P'Chanon. 

Pang feels as though he's intruding on something extremely personal. "I know that I've found mine," P'Chanon says. 

"Khu Pom?" Pang asks before he can stop himself. 

P'Chanon shakes his head. "Doing right by the ones I love."

"You're going to be okay, Pang," P'Chanon says,  giving him a final pat on the back and walks towards where Khu Pom stands with a smile Pang has never seen on him. 

Pang stands there, warmed by P'Chanon's words and uncertain, just the same. 

***

It was so sudden, is the thing. 

Pang had been fully prepared to work for the Director in case it all failed. He always assumed that he would die trying to rid the clutches he held everyone in. 

But one moment, there was all hope lost and the next, the Director was gone for good and the world resumed turning around its axis with everyone in tow. 

Everyone but Pang. 

It is a mere ten minutes after Pang reaches his dorm again when he hears frantic knocking on his door and for one horrible, horrible moment, he thinks that it's the Director. 

His stomach swoops at the sight of Wave on the other side of it. 

"Here," Wave says, holding out a bag. "You didn't eat much." 

Pang looks at Wave in awe. "You brought food for me?" 

"Don't make it weird," Wave mumbles. "Just eat something, okay?" 

Pang takes the bag out of his hands, warmth blooming at where their fingers touch. "Do you want to come in?" 

"Obviously," Wave says and pushes past him to stride inside the room. 

"You didn't have to bring me food," Pang says, pulling the chair out for Wave to sit in. 

He is about to bring them both a plate when Wave tugs at his wrist. "Sit."

"Wave…"

"Sit," Wave says. "Just sit, okay? You look like you're going to fall dead at any moment." 

Pang stands there, flummoxed when Wave moves around his room as though it's his own. He brings out two plates and two glasses and starts serving him the noodles, swatting at Pang's attempt to help. 

"Do you think that you're invisible somehow?" Wave mutters. "I see you, Pang. Do you think that I haven't noticed the change in you?" 

"What change?" Pang asks, digging into his noodles. 

"You really think I'm stupid, huh?" 

Pang looks up, not knowing how to reply to that. Wave sighs, pushing forward his plate to serve him more noodles. "I care for you," he grits out. "I care for you," he repeats, gentler this time. "You were so full of hope before the final video," Wave says. "And then, you came out of the room as though you'd lost a war. And today, at the party, you didn't talk to anyone." 

Guilt curdles in Pang's stomach. "I'm sorry--"

"No!" Wave exclaims. "None of that, Pang. I am just letting you know that I see you and that I-- that I'm here for you, whenever you want. In any form you want me."

Pang looks up, startled. In his yellow-hued room, Wave looks a whole lot pink. "Not in that way," Wave says hurriedly. "But I'm here for you. So just-- yeah." 

"I care for you too," Pang says, carefully putting his hand over Wave's. "And thank you, I appreciate you." 

Wave looks at him once before looking back at his noodles again and makes no move to remove his hand from under Pang's. "Good," he says, his voice hoarse. 

"Good," Pang replies, feeling lighter than he had all week. 

***

Here is the truth, no matter how Pang sees it: 

Pang is in love with Wave. 

He does not really know when exactly the process of falling in love happened. He just knows that one day he woke up and all of a sudden, his eyes involuntarily found Wave's. The world slowed down whenever Wave was in his vicinity and for some unfathomable reason, Wave was suddenly in everything he saw and did. 

Claire had once snickered when she'd found him staring at Wave and that's when he realised what the clamminess of his palms and the fastening of his heart beat meant. 

He is in love with Wave. 

This absolute truth is the one thing he does not find himself bending around, no matter what. The truth only glows brighter every day he spends with Wave, tinting all his surroundings with the pink that doesn't leave him even when Wave isn't around. 

There is no-one who understands him the way Wave does. 

Case in point: the reality unfolding itself in the way Wave lies beside him, holding one earbud out for Pang as he loads up a meticulously curated playlist. 

Pang gingerly takes the earbud from him and settles easily on the cold floor underneath them. 

"You can talk to me about anything, you know that right?" Wave says, somewhere in the middle of the fifth song. 

I love you, Pang thinks. "I know," Pang says. 

"I don't know what's bothering you and I want to be there for you," Wave says. 

I love you so much, Pang thinks. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do after this," Pang says. 

He feels Wave moving closer to him. "What do you mean?" Wave frowns. 

"I don't know what I wanted before this and I don't know what I want now," Pang admits. 

"You're Pang," Wave says, as the music shuts down. "You'll figure it out." 

The lull of the darkness around him makes it safer for him to say, "I don't know who I am supposed to be now." 

"You don't need to be anybody," Wave says, causing Pang to turn towards him. Always turning towards him. "You're Pang," Wave says, his voice a whisper. 

Who is that person, Pang wants to ask. There's a certain kind of surety behind Wave's words. The surety whose entire weight Pang doesn't think he can carry. 

"You're Pang," Wave whispers. "That's all you need to be," he says. 

I'm Pang, Pang thinks, and lets the golden of the words settle beneath his skin, as though merely being Pang is enough. 

He looks at the dead-set certainty veiled behind Wave's eyes and thinks that perhaps it is. 

"Why did you go against the Director?" Wave asks. 

"You know why," Pang replies, resigned. 

"No, say it." 

"Because he was harming everyone."

"And what made you want to stop him?"

"Because it wasn't fair."

"Why did you care?"

"Because I wanted to make this world a better place!" Pang exclaims, unbidden and then breathes a sigh of relief. "I want to make this world a better place," he whispers. 

The corner of Wave's mouth lifts up. "There you go."

I love you, Pang thinks. 

"I hope you have a seat beside you as you make your way in this world," Wave says, a bit hesitant. 

"For you, Wave? Always." 

Wave looks at him in surprise. 

Pang reaches across to cup their hands together, again. "We're going to find our way in this world together, I think."

"Together," Wave repeats, still wide-eyed. 

"Together," Pang confirms, feeling hope bloom behind his ribs. 

***

It takes some getting used to, but Pang gets there. 

The hallways of Rithda feel painted over, without the lingering anxiety of being surveilled by the Director all the time. There are bad days, and there are the exceptionally good ones, but the words, "We've won, we've won, we've won, we've won," keep ringing all the same. 

The hollow chamber in Pang's chest blooms with every possibility he can ever think of once it sinks into him that they are, in fact, free. Pang thinks of his life beyond this point in the present and thinks of a world waiting for him, in all the ways he's ever dreamt of. 

The lingering days of Rithda are moulded carefully by the smiles on his friends' face, by how Wave's hand slots so perfectly into Pang's, by the promise of never parting even after they've graduated, by Pang saying I love you out loud to Wave on their rooftop and Wave's equally dumb-struck declaration of reciprocated love, by the sturdy purpose of wanting to do good around him, and by the hope of a better future in his chest so bright that it spills through the gaps between his fingers. 

The future will unfold itself the way it has to. For now, Pang looks over the room full of his favourite people and feels nothing short of home. 

[quickspinner]

Triple Threat

Here it is, the 500 followers special, posted hot off the presses as promised because not only did I hit 500 followers before the poll even closed, I’m now at 520! My mind is blown. Thank you all for sticking around this little corner of the lukanette trash heap and especially for all your replies/comments/reblogs, I covet every single one. 

So you guys voted and you wanted to see Multimouse flirting with Viperion, and Marinette flirting with Viperion was a very close runner up, so I decided to do both, and I threw in a little Viperbug flirting for you just because I love you. So I hope you enjoy, and extra love to @livrever for giving me a sanity check when I needed it because y’all, I love you so much I wrote an akuma for you and even though most of the battle happened off-screen I still wasn’t sure whether the whole thing would hang together or not. 

I hate long author’s notes and this one is already wordy, but I just want to say again, thank you for being here and I appreciate all 520 of you that are here now and everyone who stumbles on this in the future. 

“Stupid Chat,” Ladybug muttered to herself between swings. “Stupid, overprotective Chat, making everything more complicated than it needs to be because of this stupid identity bullshit again and why am I still keeping up this ridiculousness now that Master Fu’s gone I have no idea…” 

She ought to be grateful, she knew. Later, she would be touched by Chat’s affection and protectiveness towards her civilian self, but right now it was just a pain in her red-and-black spotted ass. Fortunately, the akuma knew her name but not much else about her, which meant Chat was able to fool it into following him on a wild goose chase to buy Ladybug time to get help that they didn’t actually need but whatever. 

But it was fine. This was fine. She had a plan. In the three years that she’d been Ladybug she’d gotten very good at thinking on her feet. She tried not to call on Viperion too often, because it seemed like a bad idea to muck around with time too much, but the fact was, his power was both incredibly useful and incredibly reassuring for her. 

And, either because Luka was older or perhaps because he was simply more mature than the rest of the team, he’d been the first to push his powers past his original time limit, and he still had the longest time limit on the team, though he wasn’t anywhere near the unlimited time that supposedly came with being “an adult.” Marinette had questioned Tikki about that, whether it was a question of physical maturity or mental maturity or both, but it turned out that questioning a being as old as Tikki about the minutiae of human growth was...frustrating. Tikki’s concept of time was colored by her nearly-eternal perspective, and the markers of adulthood changed and shifted over the centuries.

In any case, second chances were all too scarce in her life and it was only the knowledge that all magic had a price and the fear that there had to be a catch somewhere kept her from calling on it more frequently. 

Seeing the Captain and Juleka both on deck, Ladybug crouched on the bank and squinted. It looked like Juleka and Luka’s room was empty, so she should be able to just slip through the porthole if she timed it right.  

Well, regardless of whatever method the Miraculous used to measure adultness, Marinette thought as she made her way through the porthole with some Miraculous-aided acrobatics, Luka had matured in the three years they’d known each other both mentally, and...and physically...oh dear. Ladybug gasped and slapped a hand over her mouth, which did absolutely nothing to salvage the situation, since her eyes were still wide and staring.

Luka was standing in the doorway in his boxers, hair dripping into the towel around his shoulders, a faint blush growing on his face. “Ladybug. I wasn’t expecting you. Obviously.” 

Ladybug yelped and turned her back, this time slapping her hands over her eyes, though too late to do either of them any good. “I’m sorry!” Ladybug cried. “I just—your family was on  deck and I didn’t want anyone to see me coming in and the room was empty so I thought I could just—but I didn’t expect you to—“‘

“It’s fine,” Luka chuckled weakly, and she could hear him moving around behind her. “Nothing you wouldn’t see at the beach. Living in a house full of girls I don’t actually make it a practice to run around naked. You can look now.” 

“Good. Sound policy,” Ladybug managed, like she wasn’t dying of embarrassment. She dropped her hands and turned around and then bit the inside of her cheek to keep in another scream. He had his jeans on now but he was still digging through a pile of shirts on the end of his bed and she was staring at his bare back. Which wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen before, really, but only when she was prepared and had Alya to smack her if she started...staring. Not ogling. Definitely not. 

“I’m assuming you need me for something?” he prompted, glancing over his shoulder. 

“Yes! Uh…” Ladybug shook herself back to reality and outlined the situation. How there had been a big design contest this week and one of the losers was taking it badly and had it out for the winner, a girl named—

“Marinette?” Luka turned to look at her sharply, now fully clothed (which, it turned out, helped less than it should have since knowing what he looked like under the shirt made her more than able to trace the lines his body made in it NOT THAT SHE WAS OH GOD) “Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

“Ah, yes,” Ladybug said, surprised enough to be shocked out of her absolutely-not-ogling. “You, um...know her?” 

“Yes, of course I do. If Marinette’s in trouble, I’ll do anything you need,” Luka declared, a fire in his eyes that almost made her step back. Ladybug paused and studied him for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Can you do this, Luka?” Ladybug asked, folding her arms. “The last thing I need is to suddenly be facing an akumatized Viperion with time reset powers. I know you guys are friends but if you’re more than that I need to know now.” What was she doing? It was a good thing she was still blushing from earlier. Why was she asking this, she knew he was over her, she was like a little sister to him and—wait, was he blushing? 

Luka looked away, but she was sure she saw red in his face. “We’re just friends,” he said softly. “Even if I sometimes wish we were more.” He glanced at her, and his blush deepened as he dropped his eyes again. “Maybe more than sometimes. I can do this, Ladybug. I won’t let my feelings for Marinette interfere. I promise.” He gave a lopsided smile. “I’ve gotten pretty good at keeping a lid on it.” 

“Oh,” Ladybug blinked. “I see.” She...wasn’t as surprised as she should be. Luka had never really made a secret of his feelings, but even if she hadn’t quite believed herself every time she told herself he was over her, she hadn’t expected him to be so...passionate about it. Especially after all this time. Especially after everything that had happened. “Well—well okay, if you think you can do this then I trust you.” She held out the box. 

Luka took the bracelet, greeted Sass briefly and transformed as Ladybug continued her instructions.

“I wanted to just hide Marinette but Chat thinks she needs more protection. He’s distracting the akuma now. You pick Marinette up at her home and keep her with you. Obviously, you’ll use Second Chance to keep her safe, but it might also take a few tries for Rena to get the illusion right, so you’ll also need to be in position to observe and report.” She couldn’t help a smile, feeling a rush of affection as the familiar green eyes blinked back at her. “I trust your judgement, so I’m not going to micromanage you; figure out what works and do it. Here’s the catch, though.” She folded her arms. “I won’t be there. I can’t explain to you why. Once the akuma’s focus is off Marinette, take her home, and proceed to Phase Two.” She continued giving him instructions and he listened attentively, asking only a few questions. 

Luka nodded as she finished. “I won’t let you down,” he said firmly. 

“You never have,” Ladybug smiled, and Luka looked...flattered? Almost shy. And that was kind of weird. Luka was reserved, sure, but never shy.

People did seem to find Ladybug intimidating, though. And it was kind of...cute. “You know,” she found herself saying as she strolled closer to him. “I think this Marinette girl’s awfully lucky to have caught your eye. I’m sure she’ll appreciate your help. I know I do.” Ladybug gave him a slow smile. She reached up and touched his mask with two fingers. Viperion’s eyes widened slightly. “I think I prefer blue eyes to green though.” 

“Me too,” he said almost absently, searching her face, and she thought she saw a hint of color just below the line of his mask. That made her smile wider. 

“It’s a bit of a complicated plan today, but I think you can handle it. Good luck.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek, and before Luka could react, she dove out of the porthole, yo-yo catching just in time to send her skimming away above the water. 

Luka—Viperion, now—swallowed hard, swaying slightly in place. Because it was a plain fact that Ladybug was hot, as well as strong, smart as a whip, and tough as nails. All things that very much appealed to him, even if his heart was still given elsewhere, and he...didn’t quite know what to do with the last few minutes.

Viperion shook himself. He had more important things to worry about. 

...Starting with how to leave the boat without being seen by his family. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Ladybug had caught him off guard this morning, and between having just woken up and running into Ladybug in his underwear—not to mention whatever that was just now—he was feeling a little off balance. It should have occurred to him to wait until he was off the boat to transform. 

Well, he’d figure something out. It sounded like his job was simple enough. He wasn’t super happy about having Marinette actually at the battle site, but he could see Chat’s point; it was the only way they knew she was absolutely protected and the akuma couldn’t pull a double-fake on them to come back for her. It had happened before. Hanging back with him, Marinette would be as protected as possible, out of sight of the villain to keep her from accidentally interfering with Rena’s illusion, with Second Chance as a backup if something went wrong.

Somehow, he just had to try and not be too Luka around Marinette. Best to keep things chill and aloof if he could, he supposed. 

Viperion could see her on her balcony as he approached, that would help. His last leap took him soaring in a flip to land on her balcony railing with a bit more show than was probably necessary. 

“Marinette?” he smiled. “Nice to meet you. Ladybug told you to expect me, I hope?”

“Wow,” Marinette breathed, blinking up at him. “She said she was sending someone but not who. You’re...you’re Viperion, right?” Her big blue eyes were round in her face. “You’re like—the most mysterious of all the heroes. You’re hardly ever on the Ladyblog.” 

“Not mysterious, just...quiet,” Viperion smiled with a shrug, feeling a little warm suddenly beneath his mask as he hopped off the rail. “I’m not really a front line fighter like Chat. I do my best work behind the scenes.”  

“Really? But you’re so strong—” Marinette’s eyes traveled down his body, rather blatantly checking him out. “Wow,” she breathed. “I thought the suit was just armored, but that’s actually you.” 

Viperion shifted a little uncomfortably under her gaze. Not that he minded, just...it was Marinette and she’d never looked at him like that before and...he kinda liked it.

Okay, he really liked it. 

But Ladybug was counting on him to be professional. 

Viperion cleared his throat. “Did Ladybug brief you on the plan?” 

Marinette nodded, still studying him though her expression turned serious. “Yes. I’m supposed to stick to you like glue and follow any orders you give.”

Viperion nodded. “We’ll be out of the main battle so you shouldn’t be in any danger, but that last part is really important. You’re a smart girl though so I’m not worried.” Much. He offered her a hand. “We should go so we’re in place before Chat gets there.” 

Marinette met his eyes and—shit, there went his traitor heart, suddenly galloping a mile a minute. Help me out here, Sass, he thought desperately, but his pulse continued to pound as Marinette put her hand in his and smiled up at him. Shyly, but also...mischievously? Her lips twitched just slightly, like they wanted to twist in a smirk, and crap why was he even looking at her lips, look away, Luka. 

If she smirked at him now he’d never be able to keep his cool. 

Taking a deep breath and hoping against hope that he wasn’t blushing too obviously, he tugged her closer to him and dropped her hand to put his on her back. “May I?” he asked, and when she nodded he lifted Marinette in his arms and settled her close against him, making sure he had a firm grip. She put one arm around his neck but ran her other hand across his chest, firm enough for him to feel the pressure even through the suit. His breath caught as she exclaimed “Cool! The material’s so different from Chat’s. Neat texture.” Her tone turned flirtatious. “Fits you really well too.” 

“Ah—” He couldn’t think.  

“Sorry,” she said, glancing up at him and looking not sorry at all. “I’m a fashion designer. You’re—inspiring.” She used the arm around his neck to pull herself up to look in his face, and he had to adjust his grip quickly. “I have to tell you I love your mask.” And there was the smirk, even more devastating at close range as she ran her fingertips along the bottom of his mask. 

Viperion felt dizzy as she settled back again with a cheerful, “Ready when you are!” 

***

She wouldn’t stop touching him. Tracing the lines of his suit where the different materials met, outlining the yellow diamond on his chest with one finger, not-so-subtly feeling up his arm…

Chill and aloof was obviously not going to be an option, he admitted to himself. He needed a new plan.

When her fingers traced his collar, actually brushed his skin at the hollow of his throat, he stumbled and nearly dropped her, landing hard on his knees.

“Are you okay?” she gasped, snatching her hand back guiltily. 

“I’m fine.” Viperion sighed and set her down, getting to his feet and brushing off his knees before turning to face her, trying to figure out how to say what he needed to say without hurting her feelings. 

He thought he understood what was going on. Marinette was always under a huge amount of stress. Pretty as she was, she didn’t get out much, and probably didn’t get to do a lot of flirting. She wouldn’t flirt with him—Luka him—because she knew he had feelings for her and she worried about leading him on. She couldn’t flirt with Adrien, partly because he was dating her friend and largely because she could still barely speak a coherent word to him.

As Viperion, he was a safe option. Marinette spent too much time lonely and sad. As far as she was concerned, she’d only just met Viperion, and when the mission was over he would disappear. She didn’t have to follow through on anything she said to him. Nothing she did raised any expectations. She didn’t have to worry about leading him on or breaking his heart. The situation must be frustrating for her. She was a doer. Being a spectator at best and a victim at worst in this situation, it made total sense that she would need something else to think about and focus on, a chance to blow off a little steam without consequences. 

And honestly, Luka was fine with indulging her. It fed his ego that she found him attractive enough to flirt with, even tease, but more importantly, if he could make Marinette happy, he wanted to. If he could make her feel pretty and valued and wanted, like the attractive young woman she was but never seemed to have time to be, then he wanted to, even if he had to wear a mask.

There was just one little problem. 

“Marinette,” he said, as gently as he could, “I get that you’re interested in the suit and I’m more happy to let you look at it, but first I’d like to get us where we’re going without faceplanting us both into the pavement, okay?”

“Right,” Marinette said, looking horrified and completely embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I should have known better, if course you’re a professional and I’m being horrible, aren’t I, making you uncomfortable when you’re just trying to do your job—“

Well, that wouldn’t do. He placed two fingers over her lips.

“Don’t be sorry,” he told her when she stopped talking, and chucked her under the chin gently. “I don’t mind you touching me at all. In fact—“ he leaned into her space, just a little. “I like it. Certainly worse things than having a hot girl put her hands on me, even if it’s just for the suit.” He gave her an appreciative look and a wink and had the satisfaction of seeing her blush. “I just don’t want you to be hurt. Ladybug’s counting on me to keep you safe after all.”

He could see instantly that it was the wrong thing to say, though he couldn’t fathom why. The color creeping up her face drained away and her smile turned plastic.

“Right,” Marinette said cheerfully, but the sound was hollow. “Wouldn’t want to let Ladybug down.” 

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Vierion repeated, putting his hand on her shoulder, all playfulness gone as he hunched slightly to look into her face. “Ever, but definitely not on my watch. Marinette, it would kill me if anything happened to you because I was distracted. And you can be…” He gave her a lopsided grin and a quick up and down look. “Very distracting.” 

She hunched her shoulders slightly, blushing, in a way that took him back to another time when he’d felt the urgent need to tell her how important she was. “I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said warmly, squeezing her shoulder before letting go. “You can check out the suit as much as you want when we get where we’re going.”  

“Right,” she breathed as he picked her up again. She put her arms around his neck and tucked her head down, pressing her eyes against his neck. “Because it was totally all about the suit.” 

Viperion chuckled. “You can check me out too if you want, I don’t mind.” 

He cradled her a little tighter as he ran, aware his heart was pounding from more than the run.

***

“There you go, Marinette. We made it.” Viperion let her feet drop, keeping his arm around her back. Marinette slid down his body until her feet touched the ground, her arms still around his neck. “I’m sure you’ve heard of Rena Rouge,” he added, gesturing at the hero in question. “Rena, Marinette.” 

“Hi,” Marinette said, sliding around to his side as she hunched her shoulders and waved with an awkward smile. “Um, sorry about all the trouble here.”

“It’s not your fault, Marinette,” Viperion said warmly, squeezing her against his side before Rena could even speak. 

Rena was looking at them with raised eyebrows. “You two are certainly...friendly,” she commented. 

“Are we?” Viperion said, lips twitching with the effort not to laugh as he looked down at Marinette still pressed against his side. “Sorry if I’m being too familiar,” he told her insincerely. She covered a giggle herself as he continued, “It’s just, well.” He gave Marinette a sly grin and a wink. “Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng is a bit of a mouthful.”

She looked up at him with a wicked twinkle in her pretty eyes. “I think you could handle it.”

He had to look away for just a moment before he could keep a straight face as he told her in a low voice, “I’d certainly try if you wanted me to.” Marinette giggled again behind her hand. 

Rena’s eyebrows looked likely to shoot off her head entirely. “Well, it certainly seems like there’s something going on here that I missed.” 

“You didn’t miss anything,” Viperion shrugged as Marinette unplastered herself from his side and wrapped her hands around his bicep instead. 

Probably fortunately, Chat showed up right then and ran through the plan again. Marinette continued clinging to Viperion’s arm throughout the briefing, which got looks from both Rena and Chat, but Viperion’s face remained impassive. 

“Don’t get distracted,” Chat warned him before leaping away. 

Marinette snorted softly. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Viperion coughed to cover an embarrassed laugh. 

“Looks like it’s just you and me now,” he remarked. 

Marinette perked up a little bit, squeezing his arm. “Do you work out? Or is it just part of being a hero? Do magic muscles come with the suit?”

Viperion laughed as he reached back for his lyre and shook his earpiece out of its compartment. “A little more strength, yeah, but no extra magic muscles. Let’s just say I lead an active lifestyle.”

“One that includes a lot of time in the sun,” Marinette giggled, reaching up to touch his cheek. “You’re pretty tanned. You definitely didn’t get that from being a hero.”

“Kind of hard to sunbathe in the suit,” Viperion agreed, running a finger along the edge of his mask. “Leaves awkward tan lines.” 

Marinette buried her face in his shoulder to muffle her laugh. “So the tan goes all the way down then?” she asked, when she could. 

Viperion smirked at her. “Yep. All the way.”  Marinette turned red and sputtered, and he looked away, grinning as he slipped his earpiece into place. Went a little further than you meant to, didn’t you? he thought with amusement. Too bad for you Couffaines have no shame. “Chat, Rena, do you read me?” 

“Loud and clear.”

“Gotcha, Scales.”

“Let me know when you’re in position,” he said, and then movement caught his eye. 

“Akuma,” he said urgently, growing serious at once. He put his arm out to move Marinette behind him, and felt her hands on his back as she moved close. “Here we go,” he said grimly. “Second Chance.” He slid the snake head back and touched his communicator. “Chat, Rena, she’s here. Checkpoint set. Round one.” 

Marinette’s hands moved over his back and down to his sides, and he sucked in a breath as they slid up the smoother texture of the darker panels on his side. “This part is kind of like Chat’s suit,” she murmured. “But this part must be armored,” she ran her hands forward over the ridged teal armor over his belly. 

Dear God, what had he gotten himself into?

She must have noticed his tension. “You said I could touch you,” she reminded him.

He had to swallow before he could answer. “I did.” 

“Did you change your mind?” 

Luka closed his eyes for a moment. He’d always known she was attracted to him but it wasn’t a thought he normally allowed himself to indulge in much. It just made knowing she didn’t actually want him worse. If he wanted to back out, now was the time. “No,” he said finally. “It’s okay.” 

Viperion drew back slightly as the akuma passed by below them. He felt Marinette peek over his shoulder.

“Oh, she’s scary,” Marinette whispered, and pressed her face into the back of his neck. “You’re sure you can’t see us?” 

He turned his head toward her for just a moment and leaned it on hers. “It’s fine, we’re out of sight. Don’t be scared, we’re all here to protect you.”

“I know,” she said softly. “I’m not scared if I’m with you.”

He had to shift his position to cover the shiver that sent through him. The akuma was past them now and Rena was casting her illusion. 

She ran her fingers through the tips of his hair at the nape of his neck. “Your hair’s so soft. Guess a Miraculous dye job will do that, huh?”

Oh, that felt amazing, but Viperion could see the akuma shriek and begin to flee. “Second Chance,” he breathed. A flash of white, and then he gave his debrief over the comm so that Rena could adjust her illusion. Then Marinette’s hands were sliding up his sides again.

It took nine resets before Rena got her illusion refined enough to fool the Akuma into thinking she’d gotten her revenge on Marinette and for Chat to successfully lure her away. Nine times he recounted the battle over the comms and suggested changes.

Nine times he’d steadfastly kept his attention on the akuma while he let Marinette run her hands over his sides, up his belly and chest. Nine times he felt her press her face to the back of his neck and rest her cheek on his back while she toyed with his hair. He knew every line of her teasing by heart. His own varied, partially depending on his own sense of whether he was going to have to reset again. The only reason he hadn’t just given in and kissed her (or tackled her to the floor, if he was honest) was the combined knowledge that his friends were still in harm's way and that Sass would give him a lecture about the responsibilities that came with time powers. 

He was maybe wound a little bit tight by the time he took her home. 

“Well,” he said, setting her down on her balcony. “Here we are, beautiful. Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately?” she asked, not unhooking her arms from around his neck. 

“I’ve never enjoyed an akuma battle so much,” he told her, voice low, one hand sliding onto her hip while the other gripped the railing behind him in a desperate attempt to ground himself before he did something stupid. “Whoever catches your heart will be one lucky guy.”

“Thanks for being my hero today,” she smiled up at him through her lashes, a pretty pink tinting her cheeks the only warning he got that she was about to wreck him again. “I think a kiss is the traditional reward?”

“I don’t hold with those kinds of traditions,” he said a little roughly, hand tightening on the rail behind him. “But if you want to kiss me, I’m not about to say no.”

“If I do, are you going to kiss me back?” she asked, and though her tone was teasing her eyes were anxious. 

Viperion hummed thoughtfully, the hand on her hip sliding around to press into her lower back, pulling her closer. “I guess that’s just a chance you’ll have to take. If you decide you want to.”

“I want to,” she breathed, and he bent down until his forehead touched hers, eyes on hers the whole time. He felt her breath hitch and closed his eyes, waiting, as always, for her to choose, and trying to pretend his heart wasn’t racing just at the thought.

Her fingertips touched his cheek, hesitating, and then her palm fitted itself to the curve. It occurred to him to be glad he’d had time to shave before Ladybug showed up. He did kiss her back and she grew more confident, pressing into him, and the next thing he knew her hands were in his hair and her tongue was in his mouth and he made an extremely unheroic noise even as his arms wrapped around her and pulled her up into him. 

Viperion’s bracelet beeped and he felt Marinette sigh as she pulled back from him. “That means you have to go, right?” 

“I, um,” he blinked as she began to back away from him and his hands slid from her back to her arms, and then to her hands, which softly squeezed before letting go completely. 

“Please be safe, Viperion,” she said, her brow creasing as she undoubtedly remembered that he still had an akuma to defeat. Viperion swallowed and shook his head quickly, mustering a Chat-worthy grin that was entirely fake.

“Don’t worry,” he winked. “That Akuma’s not even close to being the most dangerous thing I’ve been around today. I’ll be fine. Go inside now and stay there until Ladybug does her thing, okay?” Viperion turned away quickly, pulling in a deep breath before he vaulted over the balcony railing.

***

His bracelet beeped a final warning about three rooftops later. He quickly found a place in the shadow of the building’s roof entry hutch and put his back against the wall. His transformation released and he met Sass’s highly amused eyes before he put his hands on his face and slid to the ground with a muffled whine. 

Sass’s hissing laughter was deeply unhelpful.

“Sass,” Luka said from behind his hands. “What the hell was that?”

“At a guess,” Sass replied, smirking—Luka didn’t have to look at him to know it—“Hormonesss.”

Luka slid his hands down to glare at Sass over his fingers. “That’s your input? Ladybug and Marinette both decide to try and make me combust today and the best you’ve got is hormones?”

Sass laughed at him again and Luka groaned. 

“What do you wissssh me to sssay?” the kwami chuckled. “I have myssself heard Ladybug refer to Viperion as a ‘ssssnack.’ I don’t sssee any reason Marinette should think differently. Unless I mistake the meaning of the word in this contexsst, that should be ssssufficient anssswer.” He flicked his tail. “Ssssspeaking of which.”

Luka groaned. “I could have lived without knowing that, thanks.” He pulled the little baggie full of chopped hardboiled egg out of his pocket and tossed it to the kwami without even looking. “Eat fast, we have to go meet Ladybug’s other contact.” 

Sass just chuckled and pulled the bag open. 

***

She didn’t have a lot of time, she was on a schedule, but Marinette couldn’t resist throwing herself on her bed and squealing into her pillow. Then she rolled over onto her back. “I can’t believe I did all that,” she gasped, fingers flying to her lips “What’s wrong with me?”

Tikki floated nearby, giggling. “You like Luka, Marinette, you know you do. I think you just felt a little bit bolder knowing he was wearing the mask.” She flew close and poked Marinette’s cheek. “Was it everything you thought it would be.” 

Tikki zipped back quickly as Marinette pulled her pillow back over her red face and squealed into it again. She never thought she would be bold enough to do such things, but...but it felt good. And Luka...he’d been thrown at first, clearly, but then he’d rolled with it, because Luka was super good at rolling with things, even, apparently, if those things included her touching him and teasing him and flirting and trading innuendo she never could have spoken to his unmasked face. 

Would it...be like that? If it wasn’t Marinette and Viperion, but Marinette and Luka, and they were in a relationship, is that...is that how it would feel? Not awkward and embarrassing, but...fun and teasing and exciting. Was that how it felt when you liked someone who liked you back? Would he look at her like that every day with those soft eyes, and talk to her in that warm, low voice, and stand with his arm around her, pulling her close into his side, and...and let her kiss him like that...or maybe kiss her like— 

She felt Tikki land on her head and pat her hair. “Come on Marinette! You’d better get ready for the next part. You don’t want to keep Viperion waiting,” she finished in a singsong. 

“Right,” Marinette sighed. She got off her bed and pulled the Miracle Box out from under it. As soon as it opened, she picked up the mouse Miraculous and weighed it thoughtfully in her hand. It had been a couple of years since Multimouse’s last appearance. Surely she was safe to try it again. Mylène had done a great job with it but she was out of the country on one of her eco projects for the moment, so it was up to Marinette.

Not that she minded the chance to work with Viperion a little longer. Not that she minded at all.

Marinette put on the necklace and smiled at Mullo, eyes sparkling. Moments later, she was leaping off her balcony in the familiar pink and grey suit, on her way to meet Viperion, her heart beating with anticipation. 

***

Viperion was leaning against a wall, idly strumming his lyre and daydreaming about Marinette, when his mission partner hit the roof and rolled to her feet. It took him a moment to totally focus on her but when he did it took all of his natural stoicism to keep his jaw from dropping.

That...was not the mouse he expected.

Holy shit.

Until today, Luka would have denied that he had a type, but God. Clearly he was weak for tiny blue-eyed dynamos with dark hair. He’d never seen eyes that could kill like that except on Marinette. Her suit was fitted like Ladybug’s rather than padded and armored like his or Chat’s or Carpace’s, or flared like Rena’s. While all the boys had gotten used to seeing, or avoiding seeing, Ladybug’s curves in the suit, Viperion suddenly realized that the red and black spotted pattern did a much better job of distracting from the more subtle lines of her body, and the new mouse’s light grey suit...did not.

She cleared her throat, and he realized that he was staring at her abs and straightened off the wall, tucking his lyre away.

“Sorry, I was expecting someone else,” he said as smoothly as he could, offering his hand. “Viperion.” 

“Nice to meet you,” she said brightly, shaking his hand and then planting one hand on her cocked hip and saluting with the other. “I’m afraid your regularly scheduled mouse couldn’t be here today, so I’m Multimouse, at your service.” She winked one big blue eye and Viperion’s knees went weak.

He decided he was taking a very long, very cold shower when he got home. Assuming he survived. The universe really had it in for him today. 

Well it’s a hell of a way to go, he thought to himself, taking a steadying breath.

“Happy to work with you,” Viperion smiled. “I’m sure Ladybug briefed you on the plan, any questions?” 

“Plenty,” she grinned with another devastating wink. “But we’re supposed to be working.” 

Viperion folded his arms and smirked despite the heat he felt in his face. “I’m almost afraid to ask if there’s anything I should know.” 

“Just follow my lead, handsome,” she grinned, turning away as she unlooped her jump rope belt with an entirely unnecessary swing of her hips. “Think you can do that?” 

Oh, Mousey was a flirt. He grinned. “I’ll certainly enjoy trying,” he murmured, quiet enough that she could ignore it if she chose.

Instead Multimouse looked back at him over her shoulder with a mischievous smile. “I know you’ve had a long day already, so just let me know if you get tired.”

Viperion chuckled. “I think I’m getting my second wind,” he winked. “By all means, after you.” 

“Catch me if you can, handsome!” Multimouse swung from the building and Viperion took a running leap after her.

Multimouse led him to a warehouse, and after he smashed the lock, they slipped inside. It was deserted and Chat was supposed to be keeping the akuma occupied and after his ring, but there was no harm in being cautious. “You’re a handy partner to have,” Multimouse said, looping one arm through his. “This plan shouldn’t be difficult at all.”

“Ladybug did the hard work,” Viperion commented. “I’m just the muscle today. Have to hand it to her, she’s got a mind like a steel trap.”

“Ooh, watch your phrasing,” Multimouse winced, swinging her hip into him. “Remember your company, handsome.” 

“Sorry,” Viperion chuckled. “You’re right, poor choice of words.” 

“If you’re nice for the rest of the mission maybe I’ll let you make it up to me,” Multimouse teased, fingers curling around his bicep. “Hmm, Ladybug knew what she was doing.”

Viperion plucked her hand off him. “Don’t do that, please.” 

“Oh,” her eyes widened slightly, the first sign of hesitancy he’d seen from her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

“You didn’t,” Viiperion told her, squeezing the hand he was still holding before letting go. “I’d just rather we keep this hands off, if you don’t mind. No hard feelings.”

 “Sure,” Multimouse perked up again, though he thought he saw a hint of pink under her mask. 

“Can’t say I mind being on pretty girl detail for the day,” he said lightly, hoping to put her back at ease. “Where to, ma’am? I’m supposed to follow your lead.”

“This way,” Multimouse tugged him towards a corridor. “The akuma victim rents a space back here to use for her studio. Ladybug wants us to get there, take a look around, and see if we can get the akumatized item. She thinks it’s probably boobytrapped, so that’s where I come in. You’ll set second chance before I go just in case anything goes wrong.” 

Viperion followed her and they started slowly down the long, echoey hallway. So much for stealth, he thought, wincing slightly. Multimouse must have thought so too because while she kept her alert posture, she smiled back at him and said, “So, did you know that you came up second on the Ladyblog’s Hottest Hero: Male Edition survey?” 

Viperion chuckled awkwardly, trying not to blush. “Chat’s hard to compete with,” he replied with a crooked smile. 

“You were robbed, if you ask me,” Multimouse said in a conversational tone, winking at him when he glanced over at her. She really needs to stop doing that. He swallowed and took a slow breath before he answered her. He had a feeling he was going to be doing a lot of belly breathing today. 

“Everybody has their own taste,” Viperion shrugged. “Guess not everybody goes for ‘mysterious, aloof, and quiet.’” 

“You read your own profile?” Multimouse giggled. 

“I was curious,” he grinned. “Haven’t you read yours?”

“Don’t have one,” Multimouse held up her hands and pretended to pout. “I’m so overlooked.”

“I can’t imagine anyone overlooking you.” 

“Ooh, flatterer,” she giggled, and then sobered. “This is actually only my second time out. The first time was years ago and it didn’t end so great.” 

“Really? That surprises me. You seem so natural,” Viperion said, following her down the corridor. 

“Why thank you,” Multimouse grinned over her shoulder at him, and his heart skipped a beat. 

Marinette, he reminded himself firmly, although she technically had no claim on him and he certainly had none on her. He blew out another breath, and then inhaled deeply—and abruptly wrinkled his nose. “Fabric dye,” he muttered. He’d been over to Marinette’s once while she was dying fabric and even with her windows open the smell had driven him up to her balcony. 

“Yes, this is the place,” Multimouse confirmed. She opened the door a crack and peeked inside, and Viperion readied himself to jerk her back in case of any unexpected surprises. “You don’t have to go any further,” she said, her flirtatious air gone and replaced with an intense focus that impressed him. “I know you hate the smell. Multitude!”

Viperion looked at her sharply but was blinded by the light of her power activating. He took a step back as she glowed brightly, and when he could see again, his partner was gone. He looked down to see the Multimice grinning up at him. One of them waved him down. Viperion knelt and put his hand down. One of the Multimice climbed onto his palm and he lifted her to his face. “I’ll stay with you,” she said cheerfully, hands on her hips. “Wouldn’t want you to get lonely.” 

Viperion chuckled. “Welcome aboard.” He brought his hand up to his shoulder and the Multimouse hopped up. 

“The rest of me will go scout and report back,” she said, and then pointed to his bracelet. “If you could?”

“Second Chance.” Viperion slid the bracelet back.

The Multimice still on the floor blew him a kiss in unison, and then ran off in different directions. Viperion couldn’t help a smile, though he directed it at the ground. She—they? were really too cute. 

“So,” Multimouse said, reclining on her side along his shoulder and propping her face on one hand, “Just you and me now. Does my handsome partner have a girlfriend?” 

“No girlfriend,” he sighed, a wistful smile taking over his face. “Just a girl. One amazing girl. You’re cute, Mousey, and I’m sure you’ve got a style of amazing all your own, but my girl...she’s not my girl, she doesn’t like me that way, but...anyway, there’s no one like her. Not even Ladybug.” He looked at her and she jumped, shutting her mouth quickly and looking down as she ran her finger across the texture of his suit. “You? Anyone special in your life?”

“Hmm,” Multimouse twirled her jump rope absently. “Sort of. It’s...complicated.” She sighed dreamily. “And I really wish it wasn’t, because I really do like him. He’s sweet and talented and thoughtful...insightful, really.” She sat up, crossing her legs, and reached up to pinch his cheek, which felt really funny considering how small she was. “Almost as handsome as you. Nice muscles, too, though he doesn’t show them off nearly enough.” She bounced her foot and seemed to consider what she was about to say. “I thought I’d missed my chance though. I kept him waiting for a long time, and—” She looked at him, and then looked away quickly. “I was pretty sure he didn’t feel that way about me anymore, but...I’m starting to wonder if…” He turned his head slightly so that he could see her face better. She was smiling softly down at the jump rope in her hand, biting her full lower lip and blushing. Viperion smiled. 

“Well, maybe it’s time you took a little chance then,” he said, shrugging his shoulder just enough to jostle her slightly. “If he’s been waiting all that time, then he’s probably not going to make a move unless you do. He’s kinda put himself out there enough, don’t you think?”

Multimouse frowned, blinking at him. “But if he was still into me, wouldn’t he keep trying? Other...other guys have…” 

Luka snorted softly. “Would you like him if he was like ‘other guys?’” 

“I’d like him if he was like you,” Multimouse purred, leaning against his neck. 

“Right, okay,” Viperion chuckled. “We don’t have to talk about it anymore if you don’t want to. I’m just saying, if you are interested, then you’re going to have to make a move, because if he does still have feelings for you, he’s trying to respect you by keeping them to himself.” He turned his face toward her and winked. “Food for thought. Though I’m sure a girl like you has plenty of options.”

“Aw, I’ll bet you say that to all the girls you turn down.”

Luka chuckled. “Believe me, if it weren’t for M—my girl, I’d be first in line.”

Multimouse squeaked and nearly fell backwards off of his shoulder, and Luka bit his lip in a vain effort to contain his grin. 

“Need a hand?” he asked, careful not to move.

“No, I’m good!” she gasped, clawing her way back up the seams of his suit. Then she turned her head and brightened. “Oh, here I come!”

The Minimice—nope, Viperion immediately crossed that name out in his mind—the Manymice—no, that was practically the same as Multimice. Copymice? Okay that just sounded dumb. This is why I let Rose write the lyrics, ugh. The Multimice returned, each of them with their arms full of...yarn? Viperion knelt and his Multimouse jumped down from his shoulder. They chattered amongst themselves, talking so fast that Viperion couldn’t quite keep up, and then they lined up and began knotting their pieces of yarn together.

One of them (he wasn’t sure if it was the same one that had been with him all this time; he wished they came in different colors or something so he could tell them apart) turned to him and said, “The akumatized object is defended by a weird sort of...maze made of yarn. Like one of those laser grids you see in spy movies? We’re pretty sure that if we can get above it, we can drop down through the maze. I’m not sure what the strands do but we’d just as soon not find out! I think we’ve got enough pieces here to reach from those girders up there.” She pointed up and Viperion looked up to the girders crossing the warehouse-style ceiling.

“Are you sure it’ll hold?” Viperion frowned. “I don’t want you to fall.” 

“Check it,” Multimouse winked at him, holding it up. Viperion took yarn and held it up, inspecting the knots. His eyebrows went up.

“You know your knots,” he said, tugging the yarn carefully. The knots tightened and held. “Where’d you learn that?” 

“Oh,” the mini Multimouse’s eyes went wide, and she blushed under her mask. “Umm...a friend taught me.” 

“Your special friend?” Viperion teased, “Maybe more special than you said if he taught you knots like these.”

“It is not like that,” Multimouse insisted, growing pinker. She folded her arms and looking away from him. “He spends a lot of time around boats, that’s all. Maybe I should ask how you know them.” 

“I’ve spent a little bit of time on boats as well,” Viperion chuckled. “Well, it looks pretty good. I think it should work. Everybody grab on, let’s give it a quick test and make sure it’ll hold your weights.” 

The Multimice all grabbed onto the yarn rope in a line, and Luka carefully lifted it by one end, his other hand ready to catch anybody that fell. Finally all of the mice were off the ground, the end of the rope hovering an inch or so above the floor. “Okay,” Viperion nodded. “Okay, looks good. Nice work. I’ll take you up.” He looked up to the steel girders criss-crossing above him and then around, planning his route up. 

It took some fumbling but after a few minutes, Viperion got to his feet with his arms full of clinging Multimice. “Everybody good?” he asked. “If you don’t feel secure, now’s the time to say.” 

“We’re good!” chorused the girls, and Viperion chuckled, then looked up again and took a deep breath.

“Okay, here we go. One...two…” He felt them grip tighter. “Three!” Viperion leapt, resisting the instinct to use his arms for balance and momentum, and made it up to the steel crossbeam. He blew out a slow breath, relieved as he let the Multimice carefully down on the girder. 

“Well done,” one said, patting his hand with a sympathetic look, and Viperion smiled tightly, a little more adrenaline in his system than he wanted to admit to from the effort of getting up here without dropping or crushing anyone. 

“Be careful,” he said as the Multimice walked along the girder until they were all gathered above the glowing yarn maze, looking down into the center. Luka followed, careful not to knock anyone off as he looked down. 

“Not scared of heights, are you?” Multimouse teased. 

“Not at all,” Luka chuckled, sitting down on the girder and hanging his legs off as he looked down. “What is that? It looks like a stapler.”

“It’s a bedazzler,” said Multimouse, and all of them wrinkled their noses at once. “How cheap. Did she really think she was going to pass that off in front of those judges? Audrey Bourgeois might be the queen of glitter but I guarantee you the stuff she uses costs at least a hundred bucks a bottle and cheap rhinestones are not going to cut it. I can just hear her now.” She put her nose in the air, one hand on her hip and the other one out in an affected pose as she flapped her hand. “Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!” Viperion’s breath caught, his eyes widening slightly.

“That’s...a pretty good impression,” he said slowly, looking intently at her. “Almost the best one I’ve seen.” 

Multimouse just shook her head. “Poor thing was probably humiliated, no wonder Hawkmoth got to her.” She held up the end of their yarn rope. “Would you mind tying it?” 

Viperion did so, hands working the tiny yarn rope almost automatically as his mind raced on other matters. He gave the Multimice a thoughtful look, but none of them noticed, all on their hands and knees staring down at the purple bedazzler. “This is really worrying,” one of them commented. “This is the first time an akuma’s actually hidden away from the akumatized person. This one’s simple enough, but they always get smarter.” 

When the rope was secure, he lowered it carefully between the strands of the yarn maze. Four Multimice hopped onto it one by one and slid down.

Working together, they knotted the end of the yarn rope securely around the bedazzler, silently thanking Luka for his lessons on knots and ropes, and then one by one the Multimice shimmied back up the rope. Once there, they reformed into one large multimouse, who grinned up at Viperion triumphantly as she reached down and grabbed the yarn rope, hauling the bedazzler up hand over hand. “And there we go,” she grinned triumphantly, sitting down on the beam and crossing her legs, holding out the bedazzler triumphantly.

Viperion was looking at her strangely, one arm folded across his chest and the other propped up on it, fingers pressed to his lips. Multimouse cocked her head, and looked back at him. “Do I have something on my face?” she quipped. “Besides the mask.” 

He didn’t answer. 

“Care to do the honors?” Multimouse asked, setting the bedazzler down between them. 

Viperion wordlessly took his lyre from the small of his back and smashed it down in a quick, violent movement that made Multimouse jump. It did the trick, though, and the akuma floated free. 

“Wow,” Multimouse said absently, tracking the little butterfly. “Never thought I’d see you do that with an instrument. I’ll signal Ladybug and meet you on the next roof over.” She got to her feet and leapt nimbly across the beams, following the akuma. When she was sure she was out of Viperion’s sight, she whispered, “Come on out, Tikki.” Tikki popped out of one of her buns and came to float in front of her, beaming. “Ready?” Multimouse asked, and Tikki nodded. “Okay. Mullo, Tikki, unify.” A few minutes later, she’d captured the akuma and tossed her yoyo to cast the cure.

She stood weighing her yoyo in her hand. Technically speaking, Multibug supposed there was no need for her to meet up with Viperion again. She could have just sent him home, which was her original plan. But she hadn’t and he was expecting her and she felt unwilling to disappoint him. Marinette was used to the extra freedom that came with the mask and didn’t usually let it go to her head, but...well. She’d said a lot of things to Viperion today that Marinette had been longing to say to Luka for a while now and it felt good. He deserved to hear that he was brave and strong and kind and wonderful, and nobody said it to him the way they should.

Including her. 

“Mullo, Tikki, divide,” she ordered, and Tikki flew free. She took one look at Multimouse’s face and giggled, hiding back in her bun again.

When Multimouse arrived on the roof, Viperion was sitting on the ledge of the roof, one knee bent and one hanging down, his eyes on the lyre in his hands as he idly plucked a tune. He looked like he’d been plucked from the gardens at Versaille and left there by accident. There was something about his posture that made her uneasy and she approached him with a little less swagger than she had planned. She opened her mouth to greet him but he spoke before she could.

“I was just thinking,” he said, eyes still down, “About that girl. The one I’m so crazy about. She’s a lot like you.” 

Multimouse rocked back on her heels slightly, trying not to give away how thrown she was. She folded her arms and cocked her shoulders teasingly, closing one eye. “I thought you said there was nobody like her.” 

Viperion chuckled, still strumming. Strumming...strumming Marinette’s song, she realized with a sudden jolt. “This girl, she’s amazing. I’ve been in love with her for years. She wasn’t interested though so I’ve been kinda hanging back for a while now.” He shook his head, and Multimouse was having trouble looking away from the fingers plucking the lyre. “I’m starting to think though...maybe she’s changing her mind. Maybe she’s starting to feel a little bit of what I feel for her.” 

Marinette felt a thrill that sped up and down her body and took up residence in her stomach, electrifying the butterflies already fluttering there. “You still love her?”

Viperion smiled, and stopped playing, returning his lyre to the small of his back as he cocked his head to look at her, and the look in his eyes took her breath. “More and more as time passes. She just keeps getting more amazing, not less. I’ve dated other people, but never for long. Nobody measures up. I think maybe I can get over her then I see her again and it’s like no time has passed at all.”

Multimouse had no reason to blush at that, she reminded herself. She strolled over to him and turned, flattening her hands on the ledge where he was sitting and leaning back against it. “You should tell her, then. Maybe you’re right and her feelings are changing, but she thinks you’ve moved on so she’s too scared to say anything.”

“Well, you know. I might be wrong, but…” Viperion leaned toward her and put his mouth right by her ear. “I think I just did.” 

She couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her. 

Viperion hopped off the ledge and turned to face her, placing one hand next to her on the ledge as he leaned in close. Just like Luka, she thought distantly, her heart racing, to not trap her in, to leave her an escape.  “You know a little too much about me for coincidence, little mouse. And maybe I know you just a little bit too well. I’ve heard you do that Audrey Bourgeois impression a few thousand times.” Multmouse bit her lip. “You’ve been running me a merry chase all day but I’ve caught you now, haven’t I?” Viperion continued, his nose brushed lightly against her cheek, just under her mask. “Can I kiss you?” 

“I don’t mind, handsome,” Multimouse said, as bravely as she could manage, even though having him so close was making her heart pound. “But what if you’re wrong?” 

“Haven’t you heard?” She could see Viperion’s grin widen out of the corner of her eye. “I’m all about taking chances.” 

Multimouse turned her face to give him a Look, lips parted for a retort, but as soon as she turned to him, he dipped down and kissed her—not the soft, careful way she’d always imagined Luka would kiss, but hard and hungry and fierce, like—

Like they were both wearing masks and they could pretend it never happened if they chose. Like it might be the only time she’d ever let him and he intended to make the most of it. Like she’d been torturing him all day and he just couldn’t take it anymore.

Like he’d been in love with her for years and was finally feeling a tiny sliver of hope that she might have feelings for him too.

She felt him hesitate and begin to pull back, and suddenly she realized she hadn’t exactly stopped him, but she wasn’t really responding either, too caught off guard to do more than let her lips form to his. And if that wasn’t just like Luka, to kiss her like that and still wait for her. 

Marinette might have hesitated. Ladybug would have delivered a lecture on professionalism in the suit.

Multimouse put her arms around his neck to stop his retreat and pressed into him, catching his lower lip between her teeth before pressing her mouth to his. His breath hitched and his hesitation disappeared and then they were really kissing, and it was like kissing him on her balcony only better, because this time he wasn’t shocked and hesitating and acting on instinct.  

This time he wanted her and she wanted him and neither of them had to own up to it if they didn’t want to and it made them reckless.

By the time they stopped only his arm around her waist and the hand feeling up her back were keeping her from just toppling over the roof, he’d bent her so far back. They hung there for a moment, panting, and then he slowly straightened, bringing her back upright. He grinned at her, looking extremely pleased with himself as he eyed her. She felt a little cheated that his Miraculous lipstick wasn’t smudged, but his hair was a wreck, which made her smirk. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he told her, voice deeper than she’d ever heard it outside of a performance.

Multimouse slipped out of his arms and turned half-away from him, hands on her hips. “You think you know who I am,” she said, pouting bruised lips. “But that doesn’t mean I know who you are.” 

“Hmm,” he smiled indulgently, leaning back against the roof ledge. “If you didn’t know before, I think you know now. I’m planning to be at Cafe Belle about two o’clock tomorrow. If the girl I like just happens to wander by, I’ll ask her to join me for coffee and cheesecake.” 

Multimouse wrinkled her nose. “Is that a mouse joke?” 

Viperion’s low chuckle made her shiver. “If she doesn’t care for cheesecake I’m sure I can find something to her taste.” 

“Hmm,” Multimouse said airily, twirling the end of her jump rope tail as she sauntered away from him. “Well, good luck with that…” 

Viperion sighed, head cocking slightly. “I am going to miss that suit.” 

Multimouse whirled, her hands on her hips. “And I thought you were such a gentleman.” 

Viperion grinned, looking at her through his bangs, his green eyes looking somehow more intense and...predatory than Luka’s usual blue. “I guess we both learned something about each other today. I didn’t know you could be such a tease. You made it an awfully long day today, you know.” 

Multimouse cocked a hip and folded her arms. “You still might be wrong.”

Viperion shrugged, but his grin didn’t budge. “Maybe.” He winked. “See you tomorrow.” He kicked up his legs and flipped over the roof ledge behind him. 

Multimouse sighed. “I’m going to miss that suit too.” 

***

Luka was sweating and exhausted by the time he got back to the boat. He’d run as Viperion as fast and as far as he could, teeth clenched to keep from whooping at the top of his lungs. 

Even after his transformation dropped, he sprinted a couple of blocks just on his own. He had, after all, kind of a lot of energy to burn off. Every time he thought he was calming down, he remembered, and a grin split his face and he put on another burst of speed. 

He could hear Sass laughing at him in his hood and he couldn’t care at all. 

Luka arrived home panting and sweating and dishevelled. That wasn’t unusual for him; if anyone saw him they’d probably assume he’d been at work—which was sort of true, anyway, even if no one knew he occasionally moonlighted as a superhero and made out with pretty girls on rooftops how the hell did this become his life.

Sass eyed Luka as the kwami ate his snack. Luka grinned at him and then at the ground.

“May I asssk what that was?”

Luka shrugged his shoulders without looking up. “Hormones?” 

Sass laughed. “Indeed.” 

Luka risked a glance at him. “Are you going to yell at me?” 

Sass snorted. “I am not. If you wissssh a lecture, I’m sure Ladybug can arrange a disssscusion with Tikki. Persssonally, I think if you are judged worthy to wield me, which you have done resssponssibly for yearsss, it isss reasssonable to asssume you are not a fool. You knew what you were doing, you knew the risssk you were taking. Ladybug trusssts you with the fate of the city; I trussst you to ssstand up to your choicesss, whatever the outcome.”

“I—” Luka sighed. “Thanks, Sass.” 

Sass finished his food and came to land on Luka’s shoulder, wrapping his tail lightly around Luka’s neck. He patted Luka’s cheek gently.

Luka put the plate away and went back on deck to wait for Ladybug. Unsurprisingly, given how long it had taken him to get home, he didn’t have to wait long. He was leaning on his elbows staring at the water when her feet hit the deck and the zip of her retracting yoyo. 

“You’re not playing your guitar,” she observed.

Luka turned and shrugged. “It’s been kind of a weird day,” he said, handing over the bracelet. “I think I’m still processing it.” 

Ladybug’s eyebrow quirked and his heart jumped for no apparent reason. Habit, he supposed, at this point. Gorgeous blue-eyed girls had been wrecking him all day so why should now be any different?

Different. 

It...wasn’t different. It wasn’t different at all. Luka swallowed, suddenly staring at Ladybug’s mouth.

“Good weird or bad weird?” Ladybug asked, tilting her head and studying him. He probably looked deranged, he realized, windblown and sweaty and suddenly having a lot of difficulty putting words together.

“Good,” he replied, barely managing not to stutter. “The good kind, the best, actually, um…” He pressed his lips together before he could babble anything else. Ladybug looked like she was fighting a smile.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I am fantastic,” he said, collapsing more than leaning back against the rail. “Couldn’t be better.” 

Ladybug giggled. “Well, that’s good to hear.” She gave him a smirk and flung her yoyo. “See you around, Luka.”  

“Right,” he said numbly to the empty air, and then he bolted for the door to the cabin. He clattered down the stairs and burst into his thankfully-empty room where he could lose his shit in peace. 

It was a little thing, really. Her lips were just a little redder than usual, but it was enough. The eyes, the lips, the hair—holy shit the smirk—he felt like an idiot. Luka’s legs went weak and he sat down on his bed.

He bent his head and ran his fingers through his sweaty hair. “I need a shower,” he muttered absently.

“Didn’t you shower this morning?” Juleka grumbled from the doorway.

Luka stripped off his sweaty shirt and threw it in her face. “I’m a guy, I need another one.” 

“Eeew!” she squealed, clawing it away. By the time she threw it to the floor, Luka had pushed past her and into the Liberty’s small bathroom, just about the only place where he could actually be alone on the whole boat. 

He preferred to be alone while his brain was melting out of his ears.

Multimouse was Marinette. Marinette is Ladybug. It was clear as day now, it just plain wasn’t possible that there were two people like that in the world, let alone three. He felt like such a moron. 

Marinette kissed him and he kissed Multmouse who was Marinette who was Ladybug and that he means he kissed Ladybug. Twice! Which, okay, he was in love with Marinette and always had been, and over the moon to have been kissing her, but he’d had some time to process that part and come on. Ladybug. If there was anyone in their age group who was attracted to girls who hadn’t fantasized about kissing Ladybug...well it was no one he’d ever met. Just nobody thought they’d ever actually get to, and he had, and that was kind of blowing his mind.

Juleka would be so jealous if she knew. 

Of course she hadn’t been wearing the masks at the time, or at least not that mask, but Luka didn’t care. He’d kiss Marinette in any mask or no mask and he’d wear any damn thing she wanted him to because he was madly, stupidly in love with her, and she was three times as amazing as he ever thought and he had a date with her tomorrow.

After years of silent pining and half-hearted attempts to move on...he had a date with Marinette. 

His hands were shaking.

Luka leaned his elbows on the tiny sink and grinned at himself in the mirror, shaking his head.

“You are one lucky bastard,” he muttered to his reflection, and laughed, giddy and breathless.

***

“What am I doing, Tikki?” Marinette breathed as she walked, briskly despite her nerves. “This is crazy. Right? Tell me this is crazy, Tikki.” 

“Love is always a little crazy, Marinette,” Tikki giggled, peeking up from Marinette’s purse. “Just give it a chance! For once it’s not the world at stake. And it’s just Luka.”

“Right,” Marinette muttered. “Just Luka, that I climbed all over yesterday and now he knows it was me and—”

“And thinking that he wanted you to meet him today just to reject you would be crazy,” Tikki teased, poking Marinette’s side. “I know it’s scary, Marinette, but this is the good scary! The normal scary! The exciting scary!”

Marinette smiled and put her hand in her purse to stroke Tikki’s head lightly. “Thanks, Tikki.” She promptly faltered a step and tripped. “Oh no, there he is. Just like he said he would be.”

“That’s a good thing, Marinette!” Tikki giggled.

Luka was leaning against the wall between the cafe door and the alley separating it from the next building, hands shoved in his pockets. His jean pockets, because he wasn’t wearing the hoodie that she had seen on him at nearly every encounter for three years, just a Kitty Section t-shirt that Marinette had made him.

And because she’d made it, it fit him perfectly. And without his hoodie, it left his arms mostly bare. Marinette whimpered quietly, cursing yesterday-Marinette for making her admiration of his arms so...obvious.

“You can do it, Marinette,” Tikki whispered, sinking lower into the purse. Marinette gulped in a deep breath and started walking again.

“Hi Luka,” she called as she got closer, “Hey, what a surprise, running into you like this! I was just, um, just out and about.” 

Luka looked up, giving her that same warm stare she’d last seen from masked green eyes, and a slow smile that made her skin tingle. “Hey Marinette. Fancy meeting you here. I was just thinking about getting a table to grab some lunch. His smile took on a cocky tilt that she had only rarely seen on him and for a moment she couldn’t decide if she was annoyed by it or something else entirely. “Care to join me? I hear they have great cheesecake here.”

Marinette stood, vibrating in indecision for just a moment. Luka’s eyes didn’t waver. 

Well, maybe it’s time you took a little chance then. He’s kinda put himself out there enough, don’t you think?

He was right. 

But first things first.

Marinette took a deep breath, steadied her nerves, and in a smoother motion than she would have thought she was capable of outside of the suit, she stepped up to him, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and swung him around into the alley entrance. “Woah,” he yelped, and then his eyes widened further as she planted a hand in the middle of his chest and pushed, backing him further down the (thankfully relatively clean) alley. Something in her face must have given him an inkling of her mood because he was slowly turning very red. 

She changed her angle to back him into the wall and kept advancing until she was chest to chest with him, looking up into his face. “Just so we’re clear,” she said, with only a little tremble in her voice though she could feel her hands starting to shake, “Nothing on this earth will save you if you breathe a word of what you think you know to anyone.” 

Luka’s eyes couldn’t get any wider. “Of course,” he gasped, breathlessly. “I wouldn’t, I would nev—mmph!” Marinette grabbed the back of his neck and jerked him down into a kiss that was harder than she meant it to be, just out of nerves. He must have liked it well enough, though, because he made the same noise he’d made yesterday when she kissed Viperion on her balcony. That sparked the memory of the look on his face afterwards, which made her giggle, and then she squeaked as he took advantage of her distraction and—wow, pulling him into the alley was a good decision because she did not want any witnesses to this.  

This was so much better without the suits, she realized giddily as he pulled her up flush against him. He made that noise again when her hands slid up over his shoulders and slipped into his hair. It felt amazing and she could have kissed him forever but there were things she still needed to say. 

Finally she put her hand on his shoulder, pushing lightly, and he stopped and drew back to look at her, lips red and hair even more tousled than usual, and Marinette was grateful he was still holding her because she wasn’t sure she could stand on her own at that point. 

“A little mouse told me you still had feelings for me,” Marinette whispered. “Is it true? Because I—” she continued in a rush before he could answer. “Because I definitely have feelings for you and if it’s not true that’s okay, but if it—if it is then maybe we could go have that cheesecake and if you’re free maybe we could go see a movie and—”

He cut her off with another kiss, and it was softer and slower, more tender, more like how she had always imagined Luka would kiss, but it was no less thrilling. 

“She also said you were a really good kisser,” Marinette added breathlessly when he drew back.  

“Yeah?” The corner of his mouth came up in a subtle smirk that she could definitely get used to seeing on him. 

“Yeah,” Marinette shrugged one shoulder, aware that her intense blush belied her unusually calm attitude. “So I guess I’m kinda hoping that since she was right about that,” Marinette dropped her eyes and rubbed two fingers against the fabric of his t-shirt, “Maybe she was right about the other thing too?” 

“If you mean the fact that I’m even more in love with you than I was the day you tripped into my room,” he lowered his forehead to rest on hers and took a shaky breath. “Then yeah, she was totally right. And that’s one secret I’m more than happy to be rid of.” 

“I’m sorry,” Marinette sighed, “For keeping you waiting so long, and then hesitating even when I knew what I wanted.”

Luka lifted one hand and brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek. “If you think I’m even the slightest bit dissatisfied right now then by all means, let me convince you I’m not.” His hand turned and cupped her cheek as he leaned in. Marinette put a finger on his chin and he paused. 

“So...about that cheesecake?” she smiled.

“I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,” he told her, and his eyes—she couldn’t look away. “Today and any day. Every day, if you want. Whatever I have to do to make this real, just tell me, I’m there.” 

Marinette smiled slowly. “Silly boy,” she said, letting her finger slide away from his chin. “It’s already real.” 

He looked at her with soft eyes, and his voice was warm and low as he said, “Then let’s go have some cheesecake and go watch a movie that, I’m going to warn you now, I have no intention of remembering.” His arm slid around her, pulling her close into his side, and she smiled. 

Luka smiled too as they strolled towards the cafe entrance together, not entirely convinced that his feet were touching the ground, and only the persistent pounding assured him his heart was still in his chest. 

Luka held open the cafe door for her and she smiled up at him. As she passed him, he took a cookie out of his pocket and slipped it into her purse. He wanted to make a good impression, after all, even if he wasn’t quite ready to tell Marinette he’d figured out more of her secrets than she realized.

@wickidjennie

[solitarystudies]

Book Club Review: Educated

Despite running the book club (and therefore being the one who writes these questions) I’m late as usual. Anyway, here is my review of Tara Westover’s Educated. I want to preface this by saying that I was initially very hesitant about this book. I wasn’t sure whether or not I should include it on this list and then wasn’t sure that I would like it. But it really surprised me. 

The place that Westover comes from couldn’t be more distant than my own culture and community. It’s the sort of place where I doubt I would be welcome considering that I’m 1) an Arab 2) a Muslim and 3) a first generation immigrant. Yet, somehow, the story felt universal. Despite all the cultural differences between Westover and I, her book managed to be incredibly meaningful and inspiring. Okay enough blabbering, here’s the review:

Did any quotes or passages stand out to you? What where they and why?

There’s this one exchange between Westover and her teacher, that really stuck with me:

“It has never occurred to you,” he said, “that you might have as much right to be here as anyone.” He waited for an explanation. 

[...]

“This is a magical place,” I said. “Everything shines here.” 

“You must stop yourself from thinking like that,” Dr. Kerry said, his voice raised. “You are not fool’s gold, shining only under a particular light. Whomever you become, whatever you make yourself into, that is who you always were. It was always in you. Not in Cambridge. In you. You are gold. And returning to BYU, or even to that mountain you came from, will not change who you are. It may change how others see you, it may even change how you see yourself—even gold appears dull in some lights—but that is the illusion. And it always was.”

I want to preface this by saying that Tara’s experiences are a world away from mine, and that I’m fortunate to have never gone through anything remotely similar to her struggles. That being said, I can relate to this passage. I’ve spent years of my life refusing to see myself as good enough. Because accepting that you are in fact deserving of good things means making yourself vulnerable to the possibility of being proved wrong. I chose to constantly belittle myself and my capabilities under the guise of “realistic expectations”. It’s taken a long time for me to realize just how wrong that is. That’s why I loved this passage.

Did the book show you a new perspective on a certain topic?

Absolutely! I think it gave me insight to many topics, but the one I want to talk about is abuse. I’m very fortunate that I never faced any abuse, so I’ve always been (and I still am) very ignorant about it. One thing that has always confused me is how people can love their abusers. If someone is intentionally violent towards you, how can you still care for them? Educated showed me how abusers aren’t always violent or mean. There were definitely moments where Shawn would intentionally injure and humiliate Tara, but there were also moments when he would be a kind older brother. He was the one who stood up for Tara when her father wanted to endanger her safety (the shear incident), when he was sick he explicitly asked for her, and the two of them had shared memories and inside jokes (siddle lister). It’s this duality of being cruel and abusive on the one hand, but supportive and friendly on the other, that explained to me why people’s relationships with their abusers is so complicated.

This is the first non-fiction book we’ve read. Do you read non-fiction often? Would you be open to the book club reading more non-fiction in the future?

I don’t typically read much non-fiction (which I’m trying to change). This is probably the third memoir I’ve ever read in my whole life! I’m definitely going to try and read more though. 

I was really worried about including this book on the list because I wasn’t sure people wanted to read non-fiction. But I’m glad to see that isn’t the case. I’ll continue to include the occasional non-fiction book on the list (but not so much that it drowns out the novels!). 

In the book, Tara is very vulnerable in sharing her experiences and thoughts. How did it feel to get such an intimate look into a stranger’s life?

It was a little odd to read something so honest and private. But I’m really grateful that Tara chose to share her experiences. I can only imagine how hard it must have been to share such intimate parts of your life with the world. 

I think I had to keep reminding myself while reading the book that these events were real and happened to an actual person. Knowing that this wasn’t fiction made the message of the book all the more powerful. 

What did you learn from reading about someone with such unique life experiences?

I learnt just how privileged I am. I’ve grown up in a very supportive and loving family and I’ve been lucky enough to receive a wonderful education, one that is not afforded to many people. I often take a lot of that for granted, but I will try not to.

[reddpenn]

Hey, hey, I have some more Cool Rocks and I think they’re neat and I want to show everybody!

Ok so first of all, check out THIS weird rock!  This cool rock is aragonite.  Its crystals grow in these super weird clusters, all radiating out from each other.

Look at those shapes!  Aragonite is The Best when it comes to bizarre crystal formations.  This rock wouldn’t look out of place in an alien landscape from some scifi movie.  I’m proud of how big and weird my specimen is.

How about a lovely blue rock?  Celestite has this gorgeous pale blue color, like if you froze the sky into ice.  You can see how it got its name; it’s truely celestial!  It’s easy to tell apart from quartz, because celestite is way, way heavier.

A cute little cluster of black diopside, in a sparkly silvery matrix.  I guess part of this photoshoot is happening outside today, since it’s especially sparkly in sunlight!  Maybe I’ll show off some more of my Best Viewed in Sunlight rocks.

A pink forest of spiky triangular huelandite crystals, surrounding a huge rectangular crystal of silky white stilbite!  Stilbite and huelandite both belong to the zeolite group of minerals, and zeolites love to grow together.  The fact that the stilbite is framed so perfectly makes this zeolite extra special - like the huelandite is as proud to show it off as I am!  Ahh, those gentle pastel colors.  They’re so nice as a pair!

Phantom quartz!  The coolest name ever for a Cool Rock!  Can you spot the phantom?

It’s not an opera ghost, it’s a smaller quartz crystal hiding inside the larger one!  Hidden beneath that dark layer of dust and calcite inclusions, our phantom and its dusty coating got trapped inside when the larger quartz crystal grew over top of everything.  It’s like a shadowy and mysterious miniature landscape, tiny enough to fit in my hands.

Some rocks form slowly over thousands of years.  This rock formed when a meteorite smashed into the planet and instantly melted those Boring Earth Rocks, flung them into the air, fused them together into bottle green space glass, and rained them across Europe.  This is moldavite!!!  (Yes, real moldavite, and holy crap was it Expensive.)  That unique texture is the result of its explosive formation, and it’s best viewed with a bright light shining through it.  Can you imagine the kind of intense forces it must have taken to create such a pretty and delicate thing?

Here’s a tiny rock of mine.  Right now it doesn’t look like much, but it’s actually one of the rocks I’ve always dreamed of adding to my collection.  Let me take it out and let the light hit it just right…

A sudden rainbow flash!  This little guy is fire agate!  Its brilliant rainbow of colors comes from a layer of shiny hematite hidden inside.  The colors are brightest when the rock is wet, so I often show this one off to people by… licking it.  My friends are judgmental.

Here’s an unusual rock:  hemimorphite!  This colorful stuff looks like it’d be soft and waxy to the touch, doesn’t it?  Like the melted drips from a scented candle with a name like “summer surf.”  But it’s really a hard layer of crystal that forms on zinc-rich rocks.  The color contrast between this bright blue hemimorphite and the orange rock it’s growing on is really cool!

Hey you!  Yes, you!  Do you love the sparkly, night-sky look of blue goldstone, but were disappointed when you found out it was manmade, perhaps because you have made some sort of Blood Oath never to collect manmade rocks?  OH MAN DO I HAVE GOOD NEWS.  Let me tell you all about specularite.  It’s a naturally occurring type of hematite that forms in tiny, mirror-bright crystals.  When polished up and given a coat of protective resin finish, it glitters with an even brighter, even more complex galaxy of stars.  Holding a piece of this stuff is amazing, it’s like having a window into the Milky Way.  This is my Prettiest Rock.

But THIS.  This is undoubtedly one of the coolest rocks I own.  (Everyone I know can attest, I never shut up about this rock.)  This huge chunk of green cubes is fluorite, and there’s something incredible about it that you can’t see under artificial lighting.  Let’s get some sunlight shining on this thing!

It’s a beautiful sunny day outside, and the rock in my hands is BLUE now!!  It’s not my camera, it’s not an optical illusion, and I haven’t edited the photo.  This rock actually changes color!

You’ve probably heard of fluorescence, where certain minerals glow or change color under a UV lamp.  This fluorite comes from Rogerley Mine in the UK, and displays the mine’s famous Daylight Fluorescence!  It’s so sensitive to UV radiation that even regular sunlight causes an instant, vibrant color change!  Now’s not the time to Wax Obsessive over the science, but there’s so much Cool Science behind fluorescent minerals.  Daylight fluorescence is also a very, very valuable trait, and this big guy blows my previous Most Expensive Rock out of the water.  I have no regrets.  This rock is beautiful.

Let’s end on a closeup of those cloudy blue cubes.  Nature did this!  It made this with minerals and sunlight and science!  We’re so lucky to live in a world full of rocks!!

(You can see more of my rocks over here!)

[chevalier-tialys]

Look to the Stars

Rating: Gen

Summary: Lee is offered help by a few witches, and finds himself in an even bigger problem than he was in before.

His Dark Materials Fan Week

Day six: thing you are most looking forward to about season two | Lee attending the witches’ council

[Read on Ao3]

The sky split open, and Lee knew deep in his bones that something had gone wrong.

Unfortunately, his balloon had taken a terrible hit during the storm, so he couldn’t go and scout out exactly what was going on. No doubt Serafina Pekkala was doing as much right now, while Lee got his balloon back to Svalbard with the help of a few bears. He didn’t see Iorek anywhere, but then hadn’t expected to be able to with his new rank as king. King Iorek Byrnison, Lee thought with a wry grin. He’d told Iorek years ago that he had royal blood, exile be damned, but the bear hadn’t really listened.

Lee would do anything to shove that memory into his friend’s face, but right now his priority was to get his balloon fixed somehow and go find Lyra.

A rush of wind at his side alerted him to Serafina’s presence. “Lord Asriel opened a bridge to another world,” she announced without preamble.

“I’m sorry, what?” He had not signed up for this nonsense, and even now he was only helping out for Lyra’s sake, but… other worlds? “How is that even possible?”

She shrugged helplessly. “I think it has to do with Dust, since he was reportedly researching it in incredible detail. I saw an airship docked by his laboratory – I assume his research is now under Magisterium control.”

“The Oblation Board…”

“Perhaps. It doesn’t bode well for us,” she admitted, sounding as close to troubled as Lee had ever heard her.

He sighed. “Did you find Lyra and her friend anywhere? Roger, I mean.”

Serafina’s expression twisted. “I found the boy’s body in the snow,” she said mournfully.

“Not dead?”

“I’m afraid so. And I found this beside him,” she added, handing over a scrap of blue fabric – Bolvangar uniform, Lee supposed. “I believe it’s Lyra’s.”

Lee’s eyes widened. “She was there?”

“Not when I flew there, no. But I assume she was, at some point before. She likely took the bridge into another world,” Serafina mused aloud.

He swore under his breath.

“That’s not the worst,” she added grimly. “I found something else there as well, and the image is… disturbing, at the very least.”

“Worse than Bolvangar?” Lee asked, only halfway sarcastic. When Serafina didn’t respond, his heart sank. “Miss Pekkala…”

“Intercision cages,” she said grimly. “With a manual lever. Mr. Scoresby, I believe Lord Asriel killed Roger Parslow when he – when he cut them, to open the bridge in the Aurora.”

Lee fell silent, horrified by the act. He couldn’t tell if he found it more sickening than the experimentation in Bolvangar, or less so. For one thing, Asriel must have had the guts to commit the act himself, so there was no impersonal automation controlling the guillotine. On the other hand, the kid’s murder had probably been instrumental to Asriel’s success, which meant that it was planned.

“Damn.”

“I did say this was bigger than anything we might have imagined,” Serafina responded, still grave.

“Yeah, but – worlds? None of us could have predicted this, except–”

 “A city in the Northern Lights,” Lyra said, peering up at the Aurora. She’d opted to lay beside him on the sled that carried his balloon and stargaze for a change, instead of trekking beside the rest of the gyptians. Lee hadn’t protested, the kid had to be pretty tired from all the walking and thinner air at this altitude. He might have been used to it by now, but her Oxford upbringing wouldn’t be.

“A mirage?” Lee had never really seen a mirage himself, but he’d heard the ranchers back in Texas talk about the heat-illusions on particularly hot days when they’d been on the road for a while. He much preferred lying to travelling across land, so it hadn’t really become relevant.

Lyra shook her head. “An actual city. My father, Lord Asriel, he took a photogram of it to show the Scholars in Jordan College. So I know I ‘ent imagining things.”

“I didn’t say that you imagined it, kid,” he grunted as he sat upright, craning his neck to look at the shifting lights. No matter how much he saw them, the view never got old. “But if others have recorded the sight, I suppose…”

“What?”

“Could be some celestial phenomenon,” Lee mused aloud. “That sort of thing happens sometimes, the Aurora can look like different shapes from certain angles. Once, it even looked like a freshwater trout.”

Lyra frowned at him. “No, it can’t have. That’s ridiculous.”

“It is ridiculous,” Hester agreed, nipping at Lee’s finger. He hissed and flicked her ear in return, leaning back against the balloon.

“I guess it is,” he said amiably. “But it probably could look like a trout one day. Who knows, you might have seen an actual city there too, like Asriel. Anything’s possible ‘round these parts.”

 Anything’s possible indeed, Lee thought.

“Mr. Scoresby?”

“Lyra knew,” he said sharply. “She said that Asriel recorded an image of the city in the Aurora. You don’t think…?”

“It’s possible,” she said slowly. “But there are hundreds of thousands of worlds to cross into, Mr. Scoresby, we can’t risk following her into a place we don’t know only to get lost ourselves.”

Lee sighed. “You’re right,” he conceded. “‘Sides, we probably need to get my balloon fixed first. Though how that can be done in Svalbard I have no idea.”

“You won’t need to fix it in Svalbard,” Serafina assured him. “I summoned the aid of my clan, so my sisters will take you to Lake Enara and assist you with it themselves.”

Lee’s eyes widened. “Miss Pekkala, this is – you don’t have to–”

“Perhaps not, but it’s always good to help people when they’re in need.” Serafina’s eyes glittered. “And as I told you earlier, the universe has greater plans for you, Mr. Scoresby. Helping you wouldn’t be as altruistic as it sounds if it helps save the world, or, if my suspicions are correct, worlds.”

“Because obviously I was worried about altruism.”

She laughed.

-*-

“Lee, stop pacing,” Hester scolded. “The witches are here to help you, it’ll be fine.”

“We’ll be fine,” Lee corrected pointedly. “We don’t know where Lyra is, or – or what’s happened to her. She could be injured, and she just lost her friend! Does she even know about that? She’s probably in a strange world, and I have no idea if she’s with safe company.” He kicked a tree root and swore when pain shot up his foot.

“Don’t,” he snapped when Hester moved to speak. She sighed, exasperated.

“Lee, you’re trying to help her. If there’s any way we can find her, it’ll be with the help of the witches. They know of these worlds already, remember? Even if they’ve never been in them.”

Lee nodded. “I know, I know, I’m just–”

“Worried,” Hester completed. “I get it. I’m worried about the kid too.”

“Of course you are, we’re the same person.”

“Lee.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he conceded. “Wait a minute – that’s not a witch from the Lake Enara clan.”

From the distance, a light blur whizzed into view, landing a few paces away from Lee. A witch, certainly, from a different clan – light where Lake Enara was dark, and, lucky him, also familiar.

“Miss Virtanen,” he greeted amiably. “It’s been a while.”

“Mr. Scoresby,” she returned enthusiastically. “How are you faring, I didn’t expect to see you at this council meeting.”

“It’s a weird time,” he answered honestly. “Wait – council?”

She nodded. “I’m sure you know the significance of inviting someone who isn’t a witch into these gatherings.”

Well. Yeah.

“I thought men weren’t supposed to be witness to councils?”

“Like you said, Mr. Scoresby,” she replied sadly, “these are strange times. My sisters are meeting with the Lake Enara clan to discuss what we’ve observed so far, and Queen Serafina tells us that you have some important information of your own.”

“I hope so,” he said. “I’m not sure how relevant it is, but I’d hate it to be insignificant in the end.”

“I’m sure it won’t be,” Lisaveta assured him. “I can sense the calling of fate about your daemon.”

“Witches can do that?” he asked dryly. She grinned sheepishly and nodded.

“Some of us pay attention to the energies of the world. Others find it more productive to study people. I can say with utmost confidence that I am gifted in the latter.”

He smiled, and then remembered what he was actually here for. “I’m here about the kid – Lyra,” he clarified. “Apparently, she’s meant to save the world, or something. I want to help her do it, but mostly I just want to find her.”

His old friend cast a scrutinizing look at him. “I’m not entirely sure who you speak of,” she said at last, “but I believe Queen Serafina has something to say about it when we convene at the glen. Though it seems an awful lot like you’ve found yourself a daughter.”

“This conversation lasted for barely a minute,” Lee said exasperatedly. She just looked at him expectantly, and he deflated. “Fine, you’re not wrong. But she hasn’t had much luck by way of parents, so if I find her and escort her through her journey, I won’t push on the subject.”

She nodded and started to move towards the secluded glen, turning around to make sure he followed. “It’s like I said before, Mr. Scoresby. I’m good at reading people, and I generally stick with my first impressions of people I meet, witches or otherwise. They tend to be a lot more accurate than getting to know them before making a judgement of their character.”

“Out of curiosity, could you read an armoured bear that well?”

“Probably not,” she said. “But I will admit that I have never tried. Perhaps when this is all over, I could speak to the Svalbard bears and try.”

“Sounds like a great idea,” Lee said. “To know who they are, and all that. I mean, Iorek’s my best friend, and even I don’t know what’s on his mind half the time. Bears are strange like that.”

“They are,” she agreed softly. “Then again, people are also remarkably capable of being strange, especially mortals – humans, that is.”

“I suppose we are,” Lee chuckled.

“But I stand by what I said about you,” she said, amused. “Lyra would be very lucky to have you on her side.”

He shrugged, feeling heat rush to his face. “Well. I just try to help, and the kid’s hard to dislike.”

“Which is more than most would do. You’re a good man, Mr. Scoresby, and I trust a queen’s judgement. If Serafina Pekkala says that you have an important role to play in the fate of the world, I would be inclined to believe her. And not simply because of her rank.”

“I’m flattered,” he said, baffled, “but I still don’t know why I’m here. I thought I was just supposed to stay till my balloon was fixed, but it seems like everyone has other plans.”

“Mr. Scoresby, I just got here,” Lisaveta said, amused. “But I do think it will be interesting to find out, don’t you agree?”

Lee snorted. “Interesting doesn’t begin to cover it.”

[isidar-mithrim]

Letters from Hogwarts – Gus

For more than a thousand years, every summer, in the United Kingdom, the lives of a lucky cluster of eleven years old are radically changed.

These are the stories of four of them.

The first was that of a boy who lived for too long in the belief that he wasn’t a wizard, the second is that of a boy who lived for too long under the illusion of being one.

{Second installment of the “Letter from Hogwarts” series, but it stands alone}

{For this fic I have to thank immensely Hilda, Mah and @sazzy-hp-dw for their help and betaing! <3}</p>

{‘Letters from Hogwarts’ on tumblr: Neville, Remus and Hermione; on Ao3: Neville, Gus, Remus and Hermione}

__________________________________

Of missives, felines, and promises

He was chewing a delicious hazelnut biscuit when a decrepit owl glided uncertainly into their kitchen, landing with a thud right in front of him and making the milk wobble inside his mug.

Gus felt a surge of blissful joy and amazing relief, and with a thundering heart he hastily freed the thick envelope from the owl’s leg.

The owl took advantage of his distraction and pecked at his abandoned biscuit. In different circumstances Gus would have felt resentful, but this time the yearning to read the letter was too strong for him to be annoyed.

He opened it with trembling hands, cracking the wax seal without even looking at it, and with religious respect he took out the parchment covered in orange ink.

Chudley Cannons

Summer Camp for young beginners.

Your broom keeps unsaddling you, but you dream of becoming the Captain of your House Quidditch team?

You’ve never spotted a Snitch, but you want to break the record for the fastest catch?

You failed any attempt to get the Quaffle through the two hoops, forgetting that there was a third?

You are an excellent Beater, but your teammates keep losing teeth?

Then you’ve picked the right course for you! Fly with us and become a Champion!

Shooting Stars are supplied.

Detailed information about costs, schedules and locations of the course overleaf.

Gus put down the sheet of parchment and didn’t even bother to turn it over, a bitter taste in his mouth replacing the thrill of joy he had felt mere moments ago.

After the umpteenth humiliation suffered on the Quidditch pitch, his mother had suggested that he enroll for that stupid course promoted on the radio. I’m sure your broom will start listening to you, after a bit of practise, she had said.

He had dwelled on it for a while, but then she added a promise too sweet to be ignored. You’ll shine, at Hogwarts.

He had been full of optimism and good intentions when he sent the letter, and yet he couldn’t find the will to be happy with the news, his mind wandering towards fresh memories that stung more than he was willing to admit.

“Look! My Hogwarts letter!” Kresten had shouted ecstatically a week ago, running towards them and waving it with pride. They had spent the whole afternoon dreaming of their future Houses and wondering about wand woods and cores, betting on how many they would have to try before finding the right one.

The morning after, it had been Gus’ cousin Alan and their friend Jacob to celebrate, and then it had been Horatio’s turn.

“What about your letter?” Kresten had asked the following day, and Gus still wondered if he had only imagined the malice in his voice.

“Mum says it’ll arrive soon,” he had lied, his tone challenging in the hope of concealing the insidious anguish that had been creeping inside him more and more every day that went by without a letter.

“When will it arrive?” he had asked at dinner the day before.

“Soon, sweetheart.” His mother had given him a strained smile, before lowering her gaze to her plate.

Too caught up in the past, Gus was startled when his mum stormed into the kitchen.

“I’m warning you, you won’t go out until you’ve tidied up…”

She trailed off, her wide eyes fixed on the letter in front of him.

“Merlin… it arrived…” she murmured, as her bewilderment slowly morphed into amazement. “It arrived!”

She rushed towards Gus to squeeze him into a crushing hug.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so proud of you! You’ll see, they’ll be able to teach you the most incredible magic, at Hogwarts!”

Gus tensed at her excited words, but she didn’t seem to notice, too preoccupied with kissing his head and saying stupid, unwelcome things.

When she finally let him go, he glared at her, hoping this time she wouldn’t miss his gloomy frustration.

“It’s not my Hogwarts letter,” he hissed against the lump in his throat.

His mum froze, her eyebrows pursed in a confused frown. “What do you mean, it’s not?”

“It means it’s not!” yelled Gus with mounting rage. “It’s only,” he said, clenching the letter in his fist, “that sodding,” – he crumpled the hated parchment with his fingers – “Quidditch course,” – he crushed it between is hands – “you wanted me to join!” he shouted, throwing the paper ball in her face with forceful contempt, before running into his bedroom and slamming the door with all his might.

He was sulking on his bed when his mother knocked gently.

“Go away!” yelled Gus, but she ignored his protest.

He turned onto his side to face the wall, kicking it in frustration, and heard her light steps getting closer. He curled up in defense, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he muttered.

He felt the mattress sagging when his mother sat down beside him, her side brushing his back, her fingers softly caressing his hair. He jerked his head away, but his mum didn’t relent, running her fingers through his strands with tender, placating movements.

His anger faded, replaced by a deep, aching sadness that pressed down on his chest and clenched his throat. Silent, spiteful tears ran down his cheeks, and eventually he was sobbing in his mother’s arms, his snot damping her shirt.

“It’ll come, you’ll see,” she murmured, and in the comfort of her hug it was easy to delude himself that it was true.

*

“Alan will buy his books and all the rest this Saturday,” Gus mentioned casually during lunch. “We could go too.”

His mum hesitated. “Why don’t we go this Friday, instead?”

“But I want to go with Alan!” he complained, annoyed.

“Saturdays are always so busy, though…”

“We can’t go alone. I don’t have the list.”

His mum smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Well, I can ask Aunt Agnes to give me a copy.”

He huffed. “Okay, then…”

*

Gus left Flourish and Blotts with his brand-new pewter cauldron full of interesting books.

“Now there’s only the wand left!” he said excited, walking towards Ollivanders with a spring in his step.

His mum gave him an exaggerated grin. “Of course, sweetheart.”

When he reached the wand shop, he rested his hand against the window and peered inside.

“Look how many there are, Mum!” he said, enthralled by the sight of dozens of shelves packed with small boxes. “C’mon, let’s go inside!”

He was about to open the door, when his mum held him back.

She was still smiling, but now her expression seemed strained… Fake.

“Shouldn’t we wait for the letter, before buying a wand?” she asked with a too high-pitched voice.

Gus swallowed. “Why?” he asked harshly.

His mother let out an awkward laugh. “Well, you see, nobody ever buys a wand before receiving the letter… I’m not even sure that it’s allowed, so we really sh–”

“But I’m eleven!” Gus cut her off. “I want to start casting spells!”

“You know children can’t do magic outside of Hogwarts, sweetheart…”

“But all my friends have! Horatio fell from his broom and bounced without breaking a single bone; Jacob once spilled pumpkin juice on Alan but he didn’t get wet; Kresten made the mud stains on his new trousers disappear, because he was scared his mother would ground him, and –”

His mother sighed, her forced smile fading. “Those… those weren’t real spells, Gus…”

“Of course they were!”

She shook her head. “They were just… just bursts of accidental magic,” she explained in a low voice. “You see, it’s normal for children to accidentally do wandless magic, from time to time… Every child does.”

“But that’s not true!” objected Gus, clenching his hands. “It never happened to me!”

“No,” said his mother, her eyes glassy, and Gus felt his stomach plummeting. “No, it never happened to you, because you… you are not a wizard, Gus…”

He looked at her in shock, shaking his head in betrayed disbelief, his mouth opening and closing without uttering any sound.

“I… of course I am… I… I have to be…”

His mother swallowed, her features crumpled in sorrow, and Gus hated her for this despicable show of weakness.

“I’m so, so sorry, sweetheart, I know I should have told you sooner, but –”

“YOU’RE WRONG!” shouted Gus, a sour taste in his mouth, his inside twisted in a knot. He couldn’t bear it, he couldn’t bear her, with her sickening lies and her deceiving smiles, and when she grabbed him from the shoulders, Gus wriggled free.

He ran away with angry tears running down his face, feeling like his whole world had just been ripped apart.

*

He was crying in a forgotten alley, his back pressed against cold bricks and his forehead resting upon his knees, when he felt something wet grazing his fingers.

He shot his head towards it and saw a black kitten brushing his tiny snout against his bare skin.

“Go away,” he mumbled, but didn’t move his hand.

The kitten probably sensed his lack of conviction, because it didn’t pull back, preferring to lick his fingers. It tickled a bit, but in a pleasant way, and Gus tentatively turned his hand over to caress its neck.

“Where do you come from, kitty?”

Its soft meow was covered by the rumors of hasty steps, and a moment later a girl with dirty blond hair darted into the alley.

She stopped abruptly when she saw him, her breaths deep and frequent, a hand pressed against her right side. When she lowered her gaze, her eyes went wide. “Tibbles!” she exclaimed, running towards Gus and lifting the docile kitten in her arms. “I was at the Magical Menagerie, and,” - she took a deep breath - “a nasty cat fled from the owner’s hands and scared him off,” she explained with a hint of resentment, taking another deep breath.

Gus nodded in understanding, feeling a bit sorry for her and for her kitten, but also for himself. He would have liked to stay alone with Tibbles for a bit longer.

“I searched for him in every alley,” said the girl. “Thank Merlin you found him.”

“It wasn’t me who found him. He was the one who found me.”

The girl threw him a suspicious glance. “That’s weird. He doesn’t like strangers.”

“Well, he likes me,” said Gus defensively.

She quirked an eyebrow, studying his face. “So it seems,” she conceded eventually, scratching Tibbles’ ears. “Anyway, I’m glad he isn’t lost. Mr Paws would have gone barmy if I had come back without him.”

Gus felt a sting of annoyance. “Is Mr Paws your father?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. If his own dad were still alive, Gus certainly wouldn’t call him by his surname.

The girl scoffed mockingly, and he didn’t know if he felt more irritated or humiliated.

He crossed his arms in a challenging pose. “What’s so funny?”

“He’s not my father, silly boy,” she clarified with a slightly patronising tone. “He’s Tibbles’ father. I have to bring him back to him, by the way, but you can come with me to the Magical Menagerie, if you like. You seem a bit lost.”

“I’m not lost!” he spluttered indignantly.

The girl shrugged. “Suit yourself, then,” she said, heading towards the entrance to the alley with Tibbles secured firmly in her arms.

Gus watched her walking away, but a moment later he jumped onto his feet, wiping his face with the back of his hands.

“Wait,” he called, rushing towards her. “I’m coming too.”

She shrugged again. “Fine,” she said, looking at him with an odd expression. “Do you want to carry Tibbles?”

Gus hadn’t expected the offer, and he nodded eagerly, stretching his hands to grab him. The kitten snuggled cosily in his arms, and this was all Gus needed to endure the endless, dull chatting of the girl, who had taken it upon herself to tell him everything about her crossbred cats and Kneazles.

The Magical Menagerie was smelly, noisy and packed with cages on every wall. There were animals of every kind and colour, from cats, toads, and rats to weird furballs and double-ended newts.

“Arabella!” exclaimed the witch behind the counter, pulling off a pair of heavy black spectacles with which she was examining an adult cat with black fur. “Did you find him?” she asked urgently, while the cat raised his head and meowed.

The girl pointing her thumb at Gus. “He did.”

The witch pressed a hand to her chest at the sight of Tibbles. “Thank Merlin,” she said with relief. “I’m sorry about what happened, dear. I won’t charge you for Mr Paws’ examination, and feel free to grab a packet of cat treats on your way out.”

“I will,” said Arabella without any trace of embarrassment, before taking Mr Paws from the counter. She then turned towards Gus, looking right into his eyes. “What’s your name, by the way?”

“Gus,” he said a bit defiantly.

“You’re the boy they’re looking for, then!” said the older witch, her eyes wide. “Your mother was here a moment ago, she was worried sick!”

Gus felt a rush of vicious satisfaction at these words. “Serves her right,” he muttered.

“Come now, lad!” scolded the witch. “I’ll go find her. You stay here.” She pointed a menacing finger at him before looking back at the girl. “Arabella, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to wait a bit more. I’ll show you the new kittens when this matter is solved.”

“It’s okay,” said the girl, nonplussed.

As soon as the witch was out of the shop, Gus dashed to the door, but only to find out she had locked it. He swore and kicked it, frustrated.

Arabella looked at him with curiosity. “Why are you avoiding your mum?”

“That’s none of your business,” he said, scowling. “Why do you know that witch so well?”

“Weren’t you listening?” she asked, annoyed. “I told you, I picked all my cats here. I want the seventh one.”

“What do you do with all these cats, if you’re only allowed to bring one to Hogwarts?”

For the first time, Arabella was lost for words. She lowered her eyes, swaying slightly on her feet. “I…”

“Do you really have six cats?”

“Of course I do!” she said indignantly, raising her head again to glare at him.

“Then how –”

“I’ve never been to Hogwarts, okay?” she cut him off aggressively. “Are you happy, now?”

He stared at her, taken aback. She was taller than him and obviously a few years older. “Why not?” he asked in a low voice, his heart thundering in his ears.

“Because I’m a Squib, that’s why.”

Gus had no idea what she was talking about. “A what?”

“Someone without magical power born into a wizarding family,” she said with impatience. “Are you taking the mickey or have you actually never heard of it?”

Gus stayed silent. Squib. So that was what people like him were called…

“I’m a Squib too,” he admitted, finally saying out loud what he had secretly known since forever. He felt relieved, in a way.

“Oh.” She didn’t look particularly bothered. “Well, that’d explain why Tibbles liked you, then. Cats love Squibs.”

“They do?”

“Yes, Albus Dumbledore told me so, in person. See, my parents know him.”

Gus was quite impressed to hear that, but he wasn’t particularly keen to tell her.

She rolled her eyes. “You know, Dumbledore?” She had spoken as if she was talking to a two-year-old. “Hogwarts’ Deputy Headmaster, the greatest –”

“I know who he is!” said Gus with resentment. Blimey, he had five Chocolate Frog Cards of him! Of course he knew who he was. Everybody did.

The girl’s miffed answer was lost, because at that moment the owner got back, his mother in tow.

“Gus!” exclaimed the latter, rushing to hug him. “I was so worried, I couldn’t find you anywhere!”

He didn’t answer, making sure to put on a reproachful scowl. When his mum looked at him with dismay, Gus felt cruelly pleased.

The owner stepped in, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you help Arabella pick her new kitten, lad?”

She had spoken with a conciliatory tone, and even if Gus hated to admit it, he was intrigued by the offer. He glanced at the girl and she shrugged, so he looked back at the witch and nodded. “Okay.”

“C’mon, then,” she said briskly, leading them behind the counter. One by one, they took all the cats and Kneazles out of their cage, no matter their fur colour or their age, and Gus and Arabella held them all in turn.

“What about that one?” asked Gus with surprise when the witch skipped one of the cages.

“She’s the one that scared Tibbles,” said Arabella with bitterness.

“Can I see her?”

The witch looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Are you sure? I can’t guarantee you that –”

He nodded with decision.

“Very well, then.” She opened the cage with cautious movements, and the kitten showed her sharp teeth, jerking a paw forward with her claws out.

“Nasty kitty!” yelped the witch, withdrawing her hand.

Gus got closer, intrigued. Ignoring his mother’s frightened “No!”, he bent forward and took the dust-coloured kitten, who snuggled meekly in his arms, purring happily.

Gus turned and met the baffled gaze of the three women in the shop. “Can I keep her, Mum?” he asked. Only silence followed. “Mum?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” she said, coming back to earth. “Of course you can keep her.”

*

His mum knocked on the door and peered into his room without waiting for an answer.

“It’s Alan,” she said with a smile. “Why don’t you go and say hi?”

Gus kept caressing his kitten’s fur. “Tell him I’m not here,” he said, lowering his gaze and hoping she would take it as a hint to let him be.

“It’d do you good to go out with your friends, once in a while…”

“I don’t want to see them.”

“Gus… They care about you… I’m sure they’d understand, if you talk to them…”

“Nobody cares about Squibs,” he said stubbornly. “Except cats,” he added on a second thought.

“Please, Gus…”

“I said, tell them I’m not here.”

“Okay,” murmured his mum, defeated.

He thought she might have been crying, but he didn’t bother to check.

*

Gus refused to meet his friends for the rest of the summer. He would rather stay alone all the time than tell them why he wasn’t going to Hogwarts, or why he would never own a wand.

He made a habit of watching them play, perched on his windowsill, his cat always at his side. He couldn’t say when he had begun to resent them so much, so agile on their broomsticks, so happy and carefree, so good at reminding him how different he was.

“One day, we’ll go to Hogwarts too,” he promised to his cat on one of those awful afternoons. “And I swear that not a single student will dare make fools of Mrs Norris and Argus Filch.”

[vroenis]

Uncharted 4: An Era’s End

It’s recently come to light that game developer Naughty Dog has been subjecting its employees to crunch; the practice of overworking and underpaying staff in order to meet deadlines. This is not unique to Naughty Dog, nor to their current project pending release later this year, The Last Of US 2. Reports suggest that crunch has been endemic in the working culture of Naughty Dog for some time and this is now no surprise to us as such reports continue to surface about studio after studio, most in the corporately structured, premium funded and managed space we call “triple A” or AAA, but many smaller studios and independent spaces also. Several senior and long-tenured creatives have left Naughty Dog quite recently, and some may have been leaving earlier than those that have been reported during what’s turning out to be a turbulent development cycle for The Last Of Us 2.

Each month, as part of the paid subscription to the Playstation Plus online service, Sony offers a small selection of games. For April, one of them was Naughty Dog’s Uncharted 4: A Thief’s End, from which I derived my title. Not only am I here to suggest the studio’s troubles may have begun during the development of this game, first released back in 2016, but the title may have been one of the first significant indications that the book was closing on AAA development as we know it. I appreciate there have been many good voices shouting from the rooftops about the how unsustainable it’s been from before then, but the Naughty Dog for a long time seemed like a light in the dark, signalling that a big studio could still produce good product under strong leadership.

I feel that Uncharted 4 rather than The Last Of Us 2 is the real light, and instead of a light-house, it turned out to be a signal-fire warning that even then the composure of Naughty Dog was an illusion.

This piece is going to contain significant spoilers for Uncharted 4. It’s also not investigative - I just played it for the first time, completed it and I have some thoughts about it; these are my thoughts.

I didn’t like the third game at all. I took nothing away from it. I’ll never play it again as there’s nothing I want to relive from it, so I’d better look up the wiki on what happened in it... well that didn’t help at all as I don’t remember playing any of that, it was so unmemorable. I remember the wandering around in the desert bit and then some shooting in the desert which was all pointless. There were also some puzzles with shadow puppets that were almost good but so short and pointless, those two things sum up my feelings about the third game entirely.

What a way to start.

I’ve replayed the first and second games once each, so I’ve played those each twice thru and have decided that the first game is overlong and poorly paced, and the second game is the best and probably two-thirds good. Honestly, Elena should drop the Drakes in the ocean, run-off with Chloe and keep in touch with Sully because those are the only three characters with any depth and meaning. Let’s roll-back a bit.

I get that Nathan’s supposed to be a charming, happy-go-lucky character and for the most part, it works. Maybe I’m just getting too old for it or it’s wearing too thin. I really think the third game was completely unnecessary. When I review my notes on the fourth game, I think about the emotional quandary it attempts to set up i.e., ultimately that Nathan should be more honest with Elena - spoiler; he isn’t, but don’t worry it all works out *SPIT* - this was already a problem I was ready to face at the end of the second game. Given my feelings on the third game, I’d have much preferred a simple trilogy and conclusion that faced that emotional brunt to wrap things up. Naturally of-course, that’s not how money-spinners work.

If Uncharted 4 doesn’t spend time on Elena, who does it spend time on? Nathan has a brother! To be fair, I love Troy Baker as a voice actor and if there’s one thing that is consistent in Naughty Dog games, it’s excellent voice acting. I don’t know if I’m now biased after seeing so much of Nolan North and Troy Baker on YouTube outside of their VO talent work, but they’re wonderful people and their professional work is always great. The supporting cast is always great, too - so too the villains even if the narrative arcs are always completely absurd. I know these are always a bit of a lark, you can’t take them too seriously so I can’t hold Uncharted up to Kentucky Route Zero (got my mention in) and shake them comparatively, that’s not fair. It’s OK to have an excuse for a romp even if it does wear on a bit over time.

The problems I have with Uncharted 4 specifically are things like the level and environmental design. I’ve never gotten lost in this franchise up until now when it happened in almost every level... several times. I simply didn’t know where to go. There would be absolutely no clear indication of where to go and no assists, no subtle environmental guide and no camera nudges to help. There is a timer that eventually tells the player where to go and at times, this is tied to deaths so at one point I just threw Nathan off cliffs repeatedly to respawn until the hint appeared. This is unquestionably stupid design. I began to wonder if this was due to criticism that previous games had too much hand-holding, but when the UI assist was finally given and I made my way to the next check-point, I would *never* have found it under normal exploratory gameplay.

This remained true during several moments of scripted action sequences, some including during combat which brings up something else I now remember about the third game. I still couldn’t tell you when it was other than I didn’t know where to go and it was stupid, so there you have it. Maybe the third game was the real signal fire in my metaphor, who knows. In any case, constantly reverting to check-points and having to repeat, not understanding why you’re failing when the game isn’t telegraphing what you need for a success state in a scripted sequence is an exercise in frustration I’m not willing to ever repeat. While I’m not a souls-like player, I completely appreciate the admiration and respect for those games because they have rules that are clear to parse. Video games are *all about* providing feedback to the player. I’m not saying it’s easy, it is an incredibly difficult thing to achieve but it is literally the job you set out to do, it is the only vehicle you have to convey the lofty emotions you want to communicate to your audience.

And then there’s the driving. Naughty Dog. Do not put driving in your games. This is something you’re not able to do.

I don’t want to bash the driving so hard because at this point I feel like it may have been bolted on without time to make it stick correctly. This is the first game in the title where the hot-zones for interactions weren’t quite right. Where I bugged out of animations and had check-points or re-spawns instanced or loaded. Where I glitched out and fell off things, where I had to walk back and forth in-front of things to make buttons appear. The edges of that Naughty Dog polish were fraying. I’d attempt to do a thing and it just wouldn’t work, I’d fall to my death. I’d attempt to do the same thing the same way and it would work. Again this is dredging up more nondescript memories of the third game so I’m beginning to have my suspicions about the working environment there and when in the timeline things started getting bad - but cameras and jumping distances got really difficult to judge. One gap at one time would be fine to jump, then another would have you plunge to your death, and they’d be inconsistent to read or judge. These were not frequent, as with the third game, almost as if the artists and level designers were given time to adjust lighting and camera geometry tracking and control mapping as much as possible but just couldn’t get to them all. But throughout the games, it creeps in more and more.

I’d talk about combat - it’s functional, but it’s not interesting. These games don’t add anything interesting to the genre or video games in general. I play the games on easy because I don’t need to prolong the experience, I don’t actually have the physical time - if I could play the games without combat, I would. There are other games to play if I want dexterity challenges which I do engage in, Uncharted isn’t one of them. Even in 2016 I’m not entirely sure this would have turned heads. I realise I’m playing this a full four years later, but it’s hard to think of the sum-total of this game’s parts and see it as relevant...

But you know what? Uncharted 4 visually looks immaculate. Outside of the voice-acting and sound design, without question, the highest priority has been given to the visual fidelity of this game inclusive of the animations. So much has been invested in how the tech works, to the abandonment of everything else, I’d say the for example, the driving suffered the most, level design next, then interaction scripting. The attention to detail in the environments is stupendous...

...yet it’s all hollow. You know what? I don’t care about pirates and adventures anymore. Whatever. By the fourth game, I don’t care. I totally get that the game’s not for me but I played it and I’m writing how I feel about it. You’re telling me a story about a guy who met the person of his dreams and marries, then his brother turns up and he can’t be honest to his wife? Meow meow meow it’s all for the sake of drama so we skip over all the details but the contrivance is too much. You want me to accept these things on face value, then on face value, I say Nathan and his brother can go get fucked.

I took particular issue with the comically brief relationship discussion Elena and Nathan have after she saves him and they set off together in which she concludes she’s with him “for better or for worse”, which from memory the game chapter is titled after. Now either the character genuinely believes she owes him under the sanctity of nuptial obligation or she’s using it as a justification of such. This is a wholly unsatisfying discussion for me was when I finally checked out of this game - sure I should have done so hours before but this was the last straw and the indication that I am definitely too old for this shit - but this is a horrifying and stupid message to be spouting. Elena don’t owe anyone shit. Married or not, she’s free to save Nathan if she wants to, for any reason, but she’s certainly not obliged to. I despise this massive chunk of traditionalist patriarchy smashed into her character and the narrative, even if it is “well it’s just about her character” yea great, so that just re-enforces her as a loyal dog-trophy for the main character in the on-going male power-fantasy shenanigans shit-train. Nathan’s behaviour isn’t exactly selfish but it’s certainly not adult or considerate. He behaves like a child not taking on an appropriate level of responsibility. Others around him, being Elena and Sully, continuously bail him out - literally saving his life while endangering their own, and he continues to behave like a manchild that neither acknowledges their physical and emotional labour nor does he grow and evolve as an individual. What a fucker. Does he ever sort his shit out, ask Elena what she wants to do for a career and support whatever the fuck she wants to do with her life? Of-course the fuck he doesn’t. Know why? Because he’s a literal man-baby. And his brother is too. But that’s OK cos  he’s a fucken jock-hero and a funny guy so as long as we can all laugh about it and the narrative says-so and it all works out in the end and he gets the girl and she ends-up supporting his career anyway, it’s aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall fine.

Nathan should have died and Elena shouldn’t have given a fuck.

I know I know, it’s not that serious. Look I’ve been thru some shit, alright? I can see it both ways. Sometimes you don’t think about stupid shit that deep and sometimes you do. Most of the time, I do, and most of the time, I take it to the nth degree, so yea, shit like that gets to me. I call it bad writing, so no, I don’t like the story. At all. Nathan’s supposed to be flawed but nothing ever costs him. When people make mistakes in life, those mistakes cost. The unfortunately thing is the cost is most often paid by the others around them, and sometimes they themselves never realise it. I don’t like stories where there’s a fuckhead at the centre but everyone still stays happy. Nathan seems to have been given a lesson, but I don’t think he earned it. This is why y’all watch Game of Thrones and are surprised when characters die because you keep consuming narratives with no stakes, and GoT is *still* only middling stuff.

Anyway.

How could Elena’s character have been given more attention? Uncharted 4 isn’t all bad. The most valuable thing Naughty Dog achieved was the recreation of real domestic spaces; the Drake households. Twice, we’re given time and space and encouraged to explore them without being funnelled by level design, events, NPC shepherding or audio cues. Rooms and the objects that fill them are meticulously and beautifully created, and they're given life and purpose in a way that has meaning far beyond all the pirate nonsense that while almost as equally beautiful, is completely vacuous.

Putting on Elena’s vinyl record as her daughter Cassie was the only time I enjoyed the music in the game, and it was a great call-back to Nathan having done the same thing in their house much earlier. Sure, there’s the Drake theme that repeats ad nauseam throughout the series but otherwise the soundtrack is bland and unremarkable adventuring fare. It contributes more to the feeling of this game being out of touch, contrasted to something like Control which certainly has a completely different setting, sure - but that’s part of it, so that affords the creative team room for more modular synths and drones and to have a distinct sound.

Walking thru those houses, first as Nathan but really as the player repositioning themselves from adventurer to ordinary life-living person in a domestic setting, and then as Cassie - daughter of these two amazing characters in an equalling urbane setting yet filled with wonderful objects, made up the most fascinating and enjoyable moments of the game for me. The mess of each room gave the houses the perfect lived-in feel to a degree that most other games struggle to achieve, probably due to how much effort it takes to get that much geometry mapped in - Giant Sparrow’s What Became of Edith Finch is probably one of the few games that has come close. The difference between the tropical islands, decaying pirate mansions and the domestic Drake residences is that the houses felt like everything in there felt like it meant something and was in there for a reason, like it had been part of something. I don’t mean that just for the objects that were intrinsically tied to implicit narrative beats like collectables or even items from countries where Uncharted 4 or prior games are set, but also things like towels, washing baskets, plates and dishes, books and picture frames, shampoo bottles, food - the detail in the fridges! That you can feed Cassie’s dog, Vicky is the most meaningful interaction of the game - by the way, the second most meaningful set of interactions is buying an apple in the market in Madagascar then playing with lemur and letting it take the apple.

Back to the houses, I’m disappointed we never got to walk through one of them as Elena. Now that the core of the franchise is wrapped, I’m left with the impression that she’s the most important character in the series and she’s left woefully under-served. This is a very me thing, and unsurprising. I doubt anyone else cares enough about writing and character to have thoughts like this. They’re into Uncharted for the adventuring and the shooting, but as soon as you present me the opportunity for character drama and you want to have a red-hot go at it, I’m here to set aside the rest of that guff and go for it. The running and jumping and shooting never changes, and I’m here to say that the puzzling could have stepped up orders of magnitude that Naughty Dog never committed to - Crystal Dynamics did far better with Rise Of The Romb Raider, and while the puzzling was never really difficult, the way I described it to a friend was to liken the puzzles to desk toys; not intended to be too challenging, but more satisfying in their tactile nature. I feel Fireproof’s The Room series for iOS and Android are great examples of providing similar sensations.

I don’t mind a game mostly about shenanigans, I just don’t want it centred around a character that won’t learn, or who gets off cheaply. Elena is infinitely more interesting to me - her concerns, her desires - Chloe too, for that matter, and I absolutely am not above making the joke about shipping them as I’m sure thousands have before me (no I won’t write a fanfic about them, I’m sure there are plenty around).

I didn’t play the first The Last of Us. There was a horrifically jarring moment when the game felt it was over-playing its sense of cinema to me, then had a sudden camera zoom transition onto I think the first combat gameplay and I checked out. The tone of that game is trying to telegraph TAKE ME SERIOUSLY and I feel all I’m going to do is read tonally similar things to what I have here but far worse. Also post-apocalypse is easy pickings for bad writing, especially by video games narrative writers, I just don’t have the patience. I’m pleased that there’s lesbian representation in the second game but I’m not sure it’ll be handled with sensitivity. While I’m in no way invested in the game as a product, I continue to be concerned for the welfare of the employees at Naughty Dog, and all game developers everywhere, as always. It is a hugely unregulated industry that is in the process of slow collapse, and now more than ever do we need reform and cultural change.

And in the midst of that, one day we’ll get a decent game that’s about domestic partnerships and wonderful emotional relationships with stunning visual fidelity; maybe it’ll have running and jumping and shooting and maybe it won’t. Maybe it’ll end sadly and maybe it’ll end happily but hopefully it’ll be well-written. 

Here’s to Elena.

[ohnohetaliasues]

Stones to Abbigale {Ch. 3+4}

(Kat)

I’m doing chapter four also since chapter three is so short.

I hate this book thoroughly.

But here we go.

Briefly after I fell asleep that night I had a dream about Abbi,

Please don’t go the way I think this is going.

it was the first dream I had experienced in some time. I'm not normally the type of person to be deeply impacted by dreams as more often than not I can control them. I can recognize the fact that I'm in a dream and twist things around so that whatever is making me afraid becomes afraid of me. This tactic however could not possibly work in this soon-to-be nightmare, as there was no living monster waiting around the corner. There was no emotion in this machine that was about to reveal itself to me. I could only watch without a physical form. I was just a helpless spectator in my own mind.

Okay so that was actual word salad.

The dream began without any sound; only a deep hum accompanying what appeared to be Abbi laughing in a field of what looked like gray grass from a far. As my view of her revealed more detail I began to realize that what I thought was grass was actually long slender claws.

So this girl is just...

In a field of claws?

Experiencing a more alarmed spectrum of emotion, the audible hum cut out and was replaced by Abbi's screams. The sounds echoed bouncing off the walls of my mind splitting me in two and engulfing the core my being.

I’m so fucking confused.

She was not forming any words in her screams and I began to understand why the more I analyzed every detail. I shifted my perspective to a new angle. I was now above her looking down and could see the claws were pulling her into the ground. She showed no resistance to being dragged into the ground, she didn't even cry for help, she would only scream in pain as she slowly sank beneath the surface. I began to distinctly hear blades and gears violently turning just beneath her.

I cannot fucking picture this happening for the life of me.

It's difficult to explain, but in her eyes I could see she didn't want to be saved as she genuinely felt she had earned the suffering she was enduring.

Edgy as fuck, okay.

She believed she deserved to be ground up until there was nothing left. Once she was pulled completely under I was finally given a physical form in the dream. Dropping from above I landed on the soil she disappeared in. I immediately dropped to my knees and began digging with my bare hands to get to Abbi. I was only inches deep before the ground ripped open forcing me to jump back.

Okay uh.

I have no valid words that could express how I feel right now.

A deep canyon began to form central to where I had begun digging. The splitting and groaning quickly gained momentum. Ripping and screeching sounds erupted all around me as the earth divided before me at a now crippling rate. A hellish sight consumed my eyes as I looked down on the collapsing landmass below. Powerful machines wielding massive blades swung violently scraping dirt and rock with a sound so tremendous I could only faintly hear the screams of countless desperate humans below.

This is just.

Not okay.

I quickly realized the terrified voices beyond the ripping blades were no illusion.

But this is a dream.

Which means it’s an illusion.

Thousands of lives were being devoured in piles, no person among them begging for life rather, like Abbi, they screamed only from pain delivered not just by the roaring blades and gears, but their very existence itself. Suffering & consciousness had become one in the same.

You are not poetic.

Shut the literal fuck up.

I then woke up to my room filled with sunlight, but it could not change the darkness my dream left me with. I felt something inside me change, almost as if I had seen something I was never meant to and now had to find a way to lose the thick cloud freshly looming over my head.

I hate you.

It is as I said briefly before, I feel like a visitor here, like I'm in this world but not a part of it like everyone else.

Shut up, you pretentious asshole.

I study people and situations to find out how they work and sometimes my dreams fill in the emotions and thoughts I missed while I was awake.

Yes, so you’ve said, in a very creepy non-human way.

Not having to go to school that day due to my suspension I decided to write a letter to Abbi.

Cool. Awesome. This won’t be cringey at all.

It read:"When I look in your eyes... I at times feel a level of sadness I have never felt, as if we, despite barely knowing each other, have been apart for far too long.

Excuse me, that’s incredibly creepy.

When I talk to you it is like I am listening to a voice I've ached for yet haven't heard in a lifetime. Every other experience I have with you seems familiar but at the same time, it hurts, like you would feel if you begged for something and only received it when you had already given up hope.

More word salad.

These feelings are all so strange and evolving at a rate that scares me as they are for someone I am only just now truly getting to know.

Even with my brief presence in your life I've picked up on so much suffering and almost feel powerless to create any change.

This is so alarming and creepy and you need to stop.

There are so many wounds, so many scars, so much I only know enough about to fear. I'm trying to understand. Abbi, you have more pain in your life than I can imagine. I hear it in your voice, I see it in your eyes and in the way you move. I just want to see you smile without there being an ocean wall of tears behind your eyes. I want to hear everything you have to say. I want to find a way to heal the damage done until you can forget it ever existed.

THE ONLY FUCKING PROPER REACTION TO THIS LETTER IS TO MOVE TO ANOTHER CONTINENT.

I sent the letter to her email address, moments later the phone rang. Answering the phone I heard Abbi's voice on the other end.

"Hey, can you meet me at the Quick Shop?" she asked.

I responded, "Did you see my email?"

She replied "Nope, why didn't you just call?"

I said, "It would've been really hard to say over the phone, I had to find the words."

She replied, "Ok, I'll look and then I'll head over."

I then confirmed "Sure, see you there".

Yikes.

Shortly after, I got dressed and skated over to meet her. I arrived quickly, thanks to what seemed to be a record speed for me. However once I arrived I found myself waiting for someone who now had no intention of meeting me. I could only assume I had just made myself look like a huge jerk to her. I attempted to call her from the nearby payphone and she didn't answer.

What did you expect? That she wouldn’t find that fucking creepy?

As I skated home, in my mind, I went through the letter I wrote over and over. I began to blame myself, concluding based on her absence that I must have dug too deep too fast.

I scared her away because I reacted on the emotions I experienced in that dream before actually considering the human being on the other side of the letter.

Yeah, at least you’re fucking self aware for once.

I felt like I was just about finally connect with someone only to ruin everything at the last minute.

That’s your own fault. Don’t bitch about it.

Okay, chapter 4.

My suspension had been lifted and I had just arrived back at Lakewood High. Approaching my history class I could hear people snickering as they watched me walk by.

Someone screamed "Wuss! Learn how to fight!" behind me but I just kept walking.

I feel like I’ve read shit like this before.

Oh.

Yeah, it reads like any angsty Wattpad story ever.

As I sat down in class Mr. Hanson walked up to me, he placed his hand on my shoulder and spoke under his breath so others would not hear "Don't worry about the work you missed, ok James?"

It would be preferable that you didn’t use ‘ok’ instead of the word ‘okay.’

But this is terrible, so I don’t have high expectations. I don’t know what I expected.

I looked up at him and he gave me a slight smile. I suppose it's because he felt bad that I was beaten up shortly after trying to get Jason to leave the class alone. It was a lucky break too considering Mr. Hanson's class was one of the few I didn't stop by to see what work I would miss before beginning my suspension.

No. No. That isn’t this teacher’s job. He needs to grade something, and if James didn’t do the work, it would be immoral to put good grades in the grade book when this is the case.

I approached the art trailer feeling panicked over what to expect. I hated that I said anything to Abbi, that I overstepped my bounds and acted like I knew her when I was only going off my own dream-influenced emotional intuition.

Intuition my ass. That dream means nothing at all. Shut your pretentious mouth.

I felt a conflicted hatred towards myself for jeopardizing a relationship with someone that was so important to me.

MY FUCKING GOD YOU’VE HAD THREE CONVERSATIONS WITH HER.

If she did give up on me, I could only blame myself.

Yes. You can.

Opening the door I could see Abbi wasn't inside, instead there were just pieces of my bear sewn to pieces of her bear sitting on her desk. Maybe I was reading too far into what it meant, I could really only hope that there was something left to us that I could sew back together.

If I have to read another bullshit waxing poetic thing, I’m gonna scream. My eyes are already glazing over.

Walking closer I could see something sticking out just beneath the bear.

It was a note that read: "James, meet me behind the church when you get this."

Immediately, I thought of the church neighboring Lakewood High.

I find it bullshit that James was immediately able to figure out what church Abbi meant when she didn’t even specify which church she was talking about.

I stuffed my backpack inside the desk

Your backpack fits in a desk? Either the desk has a large compartment, your bag is nearly empty, or your bag is very small.

I’m going with the last option because it’s the funniest.

and quickly made my way off campus to meet Abbi.

You left your bag in class and just left?

What is wrong with you?

As I approached the church there was a strong forceful wind blowing behind me that made it feel as if I was being pushed to her by nature itself.

I really hate you pretending to be deep, Onion.

I felt like a fool for thinking that, I'm far too unimportant for any significant force to consciously influence my life. I walked around the church only to hear Abbi say loudly "James!" I turned to see her standing under an overhang that reached out from the church.

That is called an awning.

I walked over to her and began to apologize for the letter, but she cut me off saying "Why did you write that to me?"

A valid question.

I responded "I wanted to separate myself from everyone else in your eyes. I wanted you to know I was trying to understand you, all of..."

She interrupted "How messed up do you think I am James? How screwed do you think my life is exactly? Because if you had any social skills, you might know that saying to someone what you did, is... I'm not damaged goods... I'm not broken!"

Her voice was giving out as she began tearing up. "I'm sorry... I was..." I said, helplessly watching tears fall down her face.

This is a confusing and mechanical interaction.

"I was wrong... but I'm here, and I will be as long as you let me." I said.

She wiped her tears and struggled to speak. "The reason you saw what you did, in my eyes, my voice..." she continued to struggle as she cried "You saw the bruises from my ex, but you wanted to know everything."

You two have known each other for two fucking days. Like, you’ve only spoke four times now.

She paused to wipe her tears again. I listened carefully as she continued to speak "James... I haven't been beaten just one or two times..."

I would care more if there was any buildup to this moment or any character development that would make me like this girl.

But there isn’t.

So I feel nothing while reading this, and that is both incredibly boring and unfulfilling, as well as genuinely kind of creepy.

The fact that this does not evoke emotion in me when I should be feeling some form of empathy instead of the apathy I feel disturbs me.

Abbi said as she looked at me as if every word was agonizing for her to say.

I would like to know why she’s telling this to a guy she barely knows.

With tear soaked eyes she continued, "I've been violated beyond that James... by people who called me their friend, people I trusted took advantage of me and that killed so much of who I am... who I was."

I am so concerned that I don’t feel anything here. Are you guys feeling anything?

Her face was consumed with stress, her body shook but she managed to continue, "My mother abandoned me and left me with my father who doesn't even care if I live..." before she could finish I wrapped my arms around her.

She dug her fingers into my back as she pulled me closer and cried into my chest.

As we held each other I said, "You were never damaged, only changed. Any part of you that you think died is just hidden, waiting to come out when it's safe..."

I want to actually die.

Abbi squeezed me even tighter.

I continued, "Every time I see you, you become more beautiful to me than before."

She gripped me more tightly than anyone ever had. She was finally hearing everything she wanted someone to say to her and I was saying everything I wanted Abbi to hear, that is, most everything.

Okay, cool.

I just... This is such a gross fetishization of abuse? It makes my stomach twist. I also feel strange that I can’t feel any form of emotion for these characters beyond annoyance.

It actually bothers me deeply.

This is the opposite effect you want to have on your readers, Onion. you want your characters to be relatable and real so your readers can connect with them and feel something for them. Well written characters are ones you can get attached to.

These characters are poorly written, which is why I cannot relate to them or get attached to them. I’m not saying I’m any kind of master at writing characters, but Abbi has no personality of her own other than the fact that she’s an abuse victim, and the fact that that is all is concerning. I don’t even know what she looks like.

James is the most pretentious, condescending narrator in the world and it makes me physically recoil while I read from his point of view. He is nihilistic, bleak, creepy, and very flavorless. He’s boring as all hell, and again, I don’t even know what he looks like.

Does Onion just forget to describe his characters? It makes it very hard to visualize anything with them.

Okay. I’ll see you guys in chapter five.

This book is actually repulsive.

~Kat

[strangestdrabbles]

Yeah It’s You

A/N: i really loved writing this and i hope i wrote it cute enough and did the request justice,, also i hope you love it @mildredxrunner :o) 

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Y/N would admit that deciding to find a guy to fake date in an attempt to make Steve jealous wasn’t her smartest idea but it was the only plan her mind was able to conceive and rationalise, trying not to focus on the way that the light hit Steve’s hair and haloed his face; his smile causing a warm honey feeling to fill her stomach. She didn’t know if it was the banter, the arguments, the flirting, the will they/ won’t they that bloomed a garden of feelings within Y/N’s chest but all Y/N knew was that when the pair were friendly and Steve was laughing, that was when Y/N felt most at home while trying to suppress the almost overwhelming urge to just lean up and leave a soft kiss on the curly haired guy’s cheek. 

It hadn’t been a surprise to Nancy of Jonathan when Y/N had laid down on the former’s bed and sighed, confessing that she liked Steve in a way that had her heart beating quickly while her palms began to lightly sweat. 

“Well yeah.” 

Y/N sat up and looked at the pair in front of her, confusion etched on her face while tilting her head and making her look more adorable than usual. 

“What do you mean?” 

Jonathan laughed openly while Nancy giggled softly while covering her mouth, Y/N running a hand through her hair in exasperation. 

“It’s obvious you like him.” Nancy said after getting her giggles under control. 

“WHAT?! Are you serious? Do you think Steve knows?” 

Jonathan shook his head while Nancy bit her bottom lip, Y/N fiddling with her fingers as the sun winked through the open window; a red hue resting softly on the apples of Y/N’s cheeks while Jonathan and Nancy shared a look. 

“He doesn’t know but he feels the same for you that you do for him.” 

Y/N looked at Jonathan before laughing just a little too hard to be honest, wiping a rogue tear before looking from Jonathan to Nancy and back again while her smile slowly faded. 

“Steve doesn’t like me. I mean we flirt, argue and sometimes the way he smiles at me is softer than normal but no he doesn’t have feelings for me.” 

--

It had been three months since the conversation between Y/N, Jonathan and Nancy and in that time she had began to “date” a guy in her biology class, Adrian; a mutual understanding between the two that it was nothing more than a good time. The pair had great chemistry and were able to put forward the illusion convincingly that they were a couple; not noticing a particular fluffy haired guy watching them with a crease between the eyebrows and a pout on his lips. 

It was on a particularly rare warm Thursday in Hawkins that Steve sat across from Nancy and Jonathan at a picnic table, his fingers quick to pull apart his ham and cheese sandwich while he tried to organise his thoughts. 

“Did you know that Y/N liked Adrian?” 

Jonathan shared a look with Nancy, his eyebrows pulled down while her lips pouted ever so slightly. 

“U-Um no we didn’t.” Nancy said, her voice soft as she ran a hand through her hair. 

“I reckon you should tell her how you feel.” Jonathan’s voice cut through Steve’s thoughts, the latter looking at the former confused before shaking his head; a sad laugh echoing between the trio and hovering for a moment too long. 

“Yeah no I can’t do that. She doesn’t like me romantically and besides what’s the point, she’s with Adrian.” 

Steve was quick to put some of his sandwich in his mouth, Nancy watching him for a moment before turning her head to see Y/N walking out of the doors alone; a few textbooks clutched in her arms while her bag hung off one shoulder. Steve looked over then to ask what Nancy was looking at but it was at that moment that his breath left his body, watching the way the sun caught Y/N’s hair in a way that created an ethereal haze while the wind picked up, making her giggle in a way that had Steve’s stomach flipping and a flush settling on his cheeks. 

“Hey guys.” Y/N’s voice sounded light and airy, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. 

Steve was tongue tied even though his mind was racing as the sky was an absolutely stunning opalescent blue, surrounding Y/N and giving her an angelic haze but not noticing the way her cheeks blushed a pretty pink. It took about two minutes of Y/N calling his name, along with asking him what he was up to after school and waving her hand in front of his face before he shook his head and blinked up at her. 

“What?” 

“I was asking what you were up to after school.” Y/N’s voice was kind as she ran a hand through her hair before sitting down on the bench next to Steve, putting her biology and algebra textbooks on the picnic table in front of her. 

“U-Um nothing why?” Steve said, his voice sounding steadier than he felt. 

“Cool, do you wanna come over to my house so we can study for biology?” 

Y/N looked up at him through her lashes while a soft smile kissed her lips, watching Steve to get his answer but then the sound of someone calling her name caught her attention. She looked to the left and saw Adrian standing on the grass a little ways away, waving at her while a cheeky smile rested on his lips and the dimple on his right cheek was prominent; a bubble of laughter leaving her lips. 

“Hey I’m gonna have lunch with Adrian, I’ll see you guys later. If you wanna study after school just wait at my locker yeah?” 

Steve nodded shallowly before Y/N got up and grabbed her books, walking with a skip in her step over to the guy that Steve wanted to hate because he was lucky enough to be dating Y/N but he couldn’t; Adrian was just too likeable but that didn’t stop the ache in Steve’s chest. 

--

It was after the end of day bell that Steve left his English class and walked to Y/N’s locker, the sound of after school activities muffled only slightly by closed doors; every once in a while someone ran past Steve without noticing him. Aside from Y/N at her locker the corridor was deserted which Steve was thankful for, giving him the opportunity to enjoy the fact that she wasn’t around Adrian because then he couldn’t allow his mind to imagine; imagine her with him. It worked for a little before the sound of Y/N giggling pulled him out of his reverie, causing his heart to clench before he closed the distance and leaned against the locker beside hers. 

“Oh hey Steve.” 

Even in the fluorescent lights Steve thought Y/N looked ethereal, looking down to hide his heated cheeks and that’s when he saw it; Adrian’s name on the note held in her hand. Steve choked before clearing his throat and replying with a quiet ‘hey’, running a hand through his hair before once again making eye contact with her. 

“Why Adrian?” 

The question came out of nowhere and caught Y/N by surprise, her eyes wide as she looked at Steve. 

“What do you mean?” 

Steve ran a hand through his hair while his heart began to beat quickly, blood rushing to his ears. 

“Why did you choose Adrian to date?” 

There was a lull before Y/N spoke, swiping her tongue across her bottom lip but not noticing Steve watching the movement. 

“Steve I-” 

“Did you not notice what was right in front of you?” Steve asked, his eyes bright in the fluorescent lighting, “that I like you. I thought that I would be able to gather the courage to confess my feelings but then Adrian came along and I-I didn’t want to believe that I had lost that chance. Now it’s just become too much because I want to be the reason behind your smile and laugh, I want to be able to hold you close and kiss you when I can, I want to be able to call you mine and me yours. I don’t want to keep holding that in anymore.” 

It felt like all the air had left Y/N’s body, her cheeks flushed prettily while taking in what Steve had said.

“You like me?” Y/N asked before her bottom lip caught between her teeth. 

Steve laughed good naturedly before nodding and stepping forward, wrapping am arm around her shoulders and pulling her a little closer. 

“Hey Steve?” 

His ‘yeah’ was whispered against the crown of Y/N’s head, her right arm wrapping around Steve’s waist slowly. 

“Adrian and I were never dating.” 

Steve lifted his head at the information, looking down and catching Y/N’s eye while the look of confusion was evident on his face. 

“What?” 

“Adrian and I weren’t dating. I was seeing him to make you jealous. I like you Steve, so much but I thought that someone as incredible as you would never feel the same for me as I feel for you.” 

The confession left Steve speechless while his heart skipped a beat, trying to comprehend that they girl he felt such wonderful romantic feelings for felt the same; the part about Y/N dating Adrian to make him jealous caused him to smile cheekily while rolling his eyes. 

“I can’t believe you really dated Adrian to make me jealous.” Steve whispered, giggling before leaving a soft kiss on Y/N’s forehead. 

“Hey I didn’t say it was my best idea. I just thought it would be what made you see me as girlfriend material.” Y/N’s voice was light as she stood on her tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw and after that his cheek; both in their own little world. 

“We should get to my house.” 

Y/N’s whisper didn’t break the reverie until Steve moved his hand slightly on her waist, tickling Y/N and causing a laugh to escape her lips. 

“Come on angel, let’s go study.” Steve said, taking her hand and intertwining his fingers with hers. 

“Yeah let’s.”

[misssunflowersandsangria]

Adorned in Green

Thanks for the ask @sehuntema .  Hope that you like it!

Shikamaru leaned against the wall hidden in the shadows scowling annoyed and upset. He was sure that he was supposed to be mingling and promoting unity and peace between the nations and whatever other bullshit a state representative was supposed to do. He couldn’t find any motivation within him to even act interested in such things. His mind was solely focused on the vision of emerald and gold just beyond his reach. When Naruto had told him about Suna's state dinner he was so excited to see his Sand Goddess that he had failed to remember that she was their Sand Princess.  Tonight Temari played into that role quite well. She was a dream draped in the finest silks of jade that tried to compete with the green of her eyes. Precious jewels complemented the gold that naturally crowned her head.  She was in her element, in a position and place that was worthy of her.  

She was regal, gracious and welcoming to people who had come from all over the five great nations. She’d explained to him how important it was for Suna. This was their opportunity to show how much they’d progressed as a nation under Garra's leadership. She also wanted him there as moral support. She was very good at rubbing elbows with these people but hated it all the same. He should be right there next to her whispering words of encouragement but right now he was sulking in the dark.  

This was better for both of them because if he had to watch one more Lord, head of state or whoever stare, fuss and fawn over her he would start an international incident. 

There was a particular one that was asking for it. He looked like a squid which made sense because he was someone from the Land of Waves.  Besides, he looked slimy.   He watched as the squid reached up one of his tentacles to touch her exposed shoulder but was stopped in his tracks. Temari turned immediately towards him leveling him a stormy look but Shikamaru wasn’t moved, he was annoyed and upset and he wanted her to know it. The Lord seemed confused about why he was suddenly stopped and Temari took a step back excusing herself.  She passed by Shikamaru wordlessly to the balcony. Once she was outside and out of his clutches, he released his shadow causing the Lord to fall forward on his face. He smirked then followed after her. 

 “That didn’t last long.” Naruto laughed to the redhead Kazekage.  They'd been watching this play out for a while.  

“Well that particular Lord deserved it. He’s been inquiring about courting her for a while, incessantly, despite Nara’s claim. And the fact that he’s old enough to be our father.” 

“It’s been pretty amusing to see all these confused people coming to dead stops around her.” Any person that came within a foot of her that Shikamaru didn’t know found themselves trapped in his shadow jutsu. The Hokage wasn’t sure whether his friend realized that he was doing it or if it was a gut reaction to keep her safe.

“Hopefully once they’re married this will be less of a problem.”  Temari could be just as jealous and he'd seen her have some not so friendly conversations with different women all night.

“I doubt it, Hinata and I have been married for a while now but I still find myself sending clones to watch her from the shadows but I'm pretty sure that she knows by now."

They shared a laugh but ultimately Garra was happy for his sister.  She’d found someone who would love, care for and protect her, it was the most that he could wish for his sister.  

 “Want to explain to me why you’re being such an asshole tonight?”  Temari demanded the wind whipping around her. Even while in the throes of her anger she was still so dazzling.  He’d been rendered completely still and speechless when he’d first seen her that night.  He was used to her wearing her regular Shinobi garb.  Delicate fabrics wrapped tightly around her, priceless jewels, and exposed skin were overloading his senses.  He wanted to tear off that green dress for a number of reasons, but also because it was replacing all his images of her and that would be distracting in his daily life. He'd always known that she was gorgeous with her sandy blonde hair and teal eyes but to have it so highlighted and on display tonight was killing him.  It only made him more annoyed that other people got to behold her beauty like this, which was meant only for him.  

“Why? Did you want to dance with that guy?”  He replied harshly leaning against the wall.  He really wished that he could smoke.  

She glared at the response.  “Are you serious right now? Do you think that I'm enjoying this?  I’m Suna’s Princess, this is part of my job. Besides if you weren’t sulking in the corner you could have been right there with me instead of trapping everyone in your shadows like some petty child.”

Surprised she was caught in his shadow and placed against the wall his warm body caging her in.  She knew that she had pushed him and that he was upset but a part of her was thrilled to be 'trapped' like this.  She could overpower him if she wanted but she was safe and she wanted to see what he would do. 

“Yes, you may be their princess, but you’re mine. Call it possessive or chauvinistic if you want but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re mine and no one else gets to touch you.”  In any other situation with any other person, she would have destroyed him but this was her Shikamaru, her usually calm, lazy nin. To see him so fierce and passionate, his normally soft eyes firey only made her feel wanted.  She reached forward his shadows allowing her to move so that she could wrap her arms around his neck.

“Shika, I love you, only you. These other people, Lords, shinobi or whoever doesn’t matter to me.  I’m here with you, I'm wearing your clan’s crest sewn into this dress against my heart. You’re mine, just as much as I am yours, never forget that.”  He picked her up to pull her into a kiss her legs wrapping around his waist, desperately needing to remind himself that no one could take her away. They’d been through too much together to ever be apart.  He’d happily start a war if he needed to, just to keep her.

He scattered kisses along her neck in apology not caring if they left marks for the world to see.  “I’m sorry. You’re an important figure to Suna and I’ll have to share you sometimes, but it doesn’t mean that I have to like it. But, I can learn to handle it better.”  He mumbled knowing that he was being childish and that this wouldn't be the first time.

Her hands gently played with his hair.  “That’s why I wanted you here. I want people to know that you’re the most important person in my life.  That I chose you and I’m proud to stand next to you.”

“Really?”  He asked unsure.

Temari kissed him sweetly.  “Baby, we’ve gotta work on your confidence.  You’re the Hokage’s adviser, you’re from a storied, respected clan, your jutsu is strong, your contributions during the war are known far and wide.  You are good, kind and loyal. I had to put my claim on you before someone else tried to take you from me. Never think that you’re less than anyone in that room.  I’m lucky that you’re mine.” She assured him kissing him fiercely and possessively. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t seen the ladies of Suna eyeing him while he pouted and sulked.  He looked incredibly handsome tonight clothed in a fitted suit that she had specially made for him that incorporated traditional Suna fashion. She was glad that he didn’t realize how attractive he was or else she’d have a lot more talking to's by the council because of her behavior.  

After a few more kisses, and shared promises about what the night would hold for them after the event they returned to the ballroom and he remained steadfast by her side.  He was charming and intelligent, his presence only elevating the guests’ feelings and experiences in Suna. He wanted Temari to shine and so he reflected all the greatness and glory that was within her.   His hand was warm and ever-present on her back, his figure looming over her like a shadow. She felt safe and protected under his watchful gaze and no one dared cross his path. He may not particularly enjoy politics but he knew how to play the game well.  By the end of the night, no one could question her choosing him, a ninja from another village with little title or status, as her mate.  

 “I think that we’ve gotta invite you to these things more often Nara. People were impressed.” Kankuro toasted him before they both took a drink. The guests had all left but the Konoha delegation remained along with the Sand siblings for the after-party.  Temari seated comfortably in Shikamaru’s lap playing with his hair while the group enjoyed more food and drinks relaxing by a fire under the desert sky. 

“I had to pick up a lot of broken hearts after they found out you were with my sister and after she threatened to exile them from the country,” Kankuro added with a grin knowing that she’d take the bait. 

“Shut up Kankuro.” She growled about to jump and attack her brother till Shikamaru’s arms wrapped around her waist pulling her back into his lap. 

“Didn’t know you felt that way about me Trouble.” He teased her and Kankuro took that as his opportunity to get out of harm’s way. 

She pouted and blushed before ducking her face into his neck. 

“I wasn’t jealous.”  She mumbled. He just chuckled before turning her gaze back towards him.  She couldn’t help but smile at the way his eyes shined in amusement. He was very much her Prince.  While she had no illusions of what being a Princess meant for her she couldn't help but feel that she had earned him and their fairy tale. 

“I love you.”  He told her simply and while she’d heard those words many times before they always filled her such an immense feeling of joy.  

“I love you too.”  It wasn’t always easy being with the Suna Princess, famed Sand Kunoichi and wind mistress, but he wouldn’t trade her for the world.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21393019

[cjdemooi]

The problem with performing

When I told a few friends in the entertainment industry I was going to write this piece, they begged me not to post it. They all agreed with what I wanted to say but desperately tried to persuade me I had to ‘play the game’ and under no circumstances criticise those who might be in a position to give me a job.

However, I found myself in an unfortunate yet unique position. After the last 4 years and through no fault of my own, I’m utterly toxic so can speak out with no consequences. After all, I can’t get more unemployable! If I was willing to play tedious games, I’d still be on television, have regular auditions and a career. Now I’ve been permanently deprived of those and am no longer willing to work with people I don’t trust, there’s nothing to keep me quiet or compliant. That rules out large swathes of opportunities but so what?

Smiling sweetly while being dismissed as a worthless commodity is something performers endure every day. The simple fact is, if you’re not willing to toe the line and do what’s expected, there are countless others who will. My response is, and always has been, screw that! The performance arts aren’t jobs, they’re callings. From a very early age, we all knew what we wanted to be and that fire only grew more intense. Of course there are sacrifices to be made but a line has to be drawn somewhere. I personally don’t believe that integrity and personal ethics are worth giving up for a dream.

Please understand that is only my view and I don’t in any way diminish those who strive tirelessly to succeed. Decisions have to be made and weighed up against such incredibly fine margins that distinctions become blurred. I’ve made my choices but each to his or her  own. 

I spoke out and criticised the BBC for the lack of same sex representation and racism. I lost my job because of it and was subjected to a smear campaign of lies in the national press. The implicit threat was, we pay you so do as you’re told. That’s a price very few people would be able or willing to pay and ultimately, I couldn’t afford it either. I lost everything because I didn’t shut up as was demanded of me. Honestly though, I don’t regret it.

Actors are treated with utter disdain. The recent interview with Mena Massoud in which he revealed he hadn’t had a single audition since Aladdin is a case in point. If the lead in a billion dollar movie is struggling to be seen, what chance does anyone else have? I have an impressive and award nominated CV but 4 auditions in 5 years speak for themselves and yet I’m still relatively lucky. Thousands of others are in far worse positions. 

Recently there has been a campaign to persuade casting directors and producers to let auditioning performers know if they haven’t been successful. Hanging around, waiting and hoping to hear about a role is not only frustrating, it causes people to miss out on other opportunities. A bulk email would take 5 minutes and allay a lot of fears but such a simple courtesy seems beneath a lot of people. We don’t need an apology or meticulous dissection of our technique. Just a quick ‘Sorry, not this time’ is all that’s required!

My worst experience, and there have been more than I care to remember, was a few years ago when I was called in for the national tour of Rent. I was sent 3 songs and dialogue for an audition 4 days later. I worked hard and managed to learn it all, travelling to London the night before to prepare. The next morning I had a singing lesson to warm up and set off up Tottenham Court Road. Literally as I was about to knock on the door, I received a text saying the producer had changed his mind and didn’t think I was right for the role. After all that effort, they wouldn’t even allow me 5 minutes to show what I could do. I was incensed so emailed him back expressing my disappointment and asking where I should send the invoice for my time and expenditure. He replied with indignant pomposity saying that was the way things were and if that’s how I was going to be, he was glad he didn’t have to work with me but I sent him the bill anyway. 

Of course this damaged my reputation with him and many others he spoke to but the fact he considered it completely acceptable to treat hard working professionals in such a manner was unforgivable. You may not want to work with me but I assure you, the feeling’s more than mutual. As actors, all we want is a chance. If we’re not good enough, fine but at least give us a few moments to try and impress you. 

I’ve burnt my bridges with a lot of industry professionals because I’m strong willed (or arrogant, depending on which side of the desk you’re sitting) but I’ve never once wished I’d kept my mouth tightly closed and my opinions to myself. I’m nothing if not brutally honest and direct. No doubt that attitude has cost me a lot of roles. 

A casting director who’d rather give a job to someone who’s become available from another production rather than sit through 3 days of auditions because the pay’s the same either way. A producer who consistently advertises jobs without pay because he’ll still be inundated with eager young things desperate for their break. A director who rehearses for 10 days then cuts your role to the bare minimum in order to give himself a big scene (and yes, this happened to me in panto in Clacton) Playwrights who promise you a script then go back on their word expecting you’ll bend over backwards to assure them it’s all fine. If nobody has to face any consequences, where is the incentive to change?

Too often, it’s not what you know, it’s who you know. Although thankfully no longer as common as it once was, it’s also not what you know but who you’re willing to sleep with. I wish that this wasn’t true but I can say from personal experience and stories from others that it most certainly is.

Potentially the most harmful barrier is the competition, very little of it healthy, between artists themselves. This rarely produces a buoyant environment of support for each other. It’s always been a case of how can I knock the other person down rather than raising myself up? I can reluctantly understand why this would be the case when trying to secure an audition but it happens all too frequently when there’s no direct or obvious rivalry. The whole industry seems to be predicated on survival of the fittest, so talent and kindness are often reduced to irrelevancies. I truly believe most performers are caring and encouraging but they’re battered down by a system that’s relentless and ruthless. The fact may very well be that I’m not good or obedient enough to succeed as an actor and those who are clever and subtle enough manipulate the system to their own advantage are the ones who will make it big. I honestly congratulate them as they’re better and more skilled than I ever will be.

We are taught there are standards to be upheld such as unrealistic body image or heteronormativity and these have been immensely damaging in the past. Fortunately, at least in this aspect, times are changing. I’ve been honoured to work with some amazing and nurturing people who’ve actively fostered workplaces of support and inclusivity. I hope these very positive models will soon represent the rule over the above examples rather than the exception. 

The problem is, drama schools are churning out increased numbers of students every year. They’re not taught how to cope in the outside world and find themselves ill equipped to vie for a finite number of jobs. The vast majority hold down multiple jobs just for a brief glimpse of their dreams. The time between sinking into debt during drama school and having to give it all up in order to live is probably only 3 or 4 years. That’s an cruelly narrow window to achieve something they’ve been yearning after for decades. The harsh reality is, most will never have a professional contract and will all too soon have to give up in order to survive. Surely casting directors and producers can appreciate that and at least give a few more chances to a few more desperate people?

I know these aren’t popular opinions but I believe them to be the truth. I refuse to play those ridiculous games pretending everything’s fine and not making waves with anyone with the power to employ me. I’m under no illusion that this article will obliterate any slim chance I had of ever working again so that gives me a free pass to call out what I believe to be wrong with the industry I love. Only when we come together in respect will we move forward in solidarity and strength. Performing is one of the very toughest communities to be a part of so I beg you, please, treat everyone in it with consideration and they’ll do the same in return.

 We all deserve that.

[9w1ft]

as the lovely @yailgraduate pointed to, i felt something was afoot with this lottery ticket. and how could you not? what’s Tay doing *not* playing her lucky number 13? on a lotto ticket??

🤔 truth be told, my questions started with this:

this gift was handed out on TSL earlier in the week, if you remember, and in the spirit of selectively taking things literal, i very much did not know what to do. that said, it looked enough like a date for me to wait it out until 1/13. maybe something big would appear.

but 1/13 happened over here in my time zone without incident. curious.

and yet, like i have many a morning for the past half year, i got up in the middle of my slumber

to the Irish Sun article about the lottery ticket.

immediately, i knew something was afoot.

straight away, i recognized the first two numbers as being significant as in they marked Karlie’s “wedding day” (see here instagram)— but the second half of the ticket? 20, 25? didn’t make sense to me.

at first.

but, i was reminded again about TSL.

The Swift Life is ending February 1st, and so are my chronicles with it. but despite that signoff message being posted to the main feed and everyone on the app thinking that’d be it, we got another gift in the form of swiftsends, and the biggest number of them in my memory. 113. and... this lotto ticket tweet did happen on 1/13

so... i decided to whip out the old thinking ribbon one more time and do what i “know what to do”

and that is, make crazy connections using these taymoji gifts 😜

so.

in the sequence of gifts given out starting with the yacht in july, there have, in fact, been swiftsend gifts of totals of 20 and 25 respectively, given in that order, with an interesting mix of other taymoji gifts in between.

so what i’m gonna do now is show you what’s in there and see if we can’t make some sense out of it. spoiler alert: no big reveal.

*a disclaimer, seeing as i have gained 50+ followers in the past week or so who are likely about to be bamboozled*

i am by no means under the illusion that what i have experienced on TSL is completely real. as many of my mutuals can attest to, at every juncture, i have been incredibly weirded out and in stitches about every coincidence that has happened to me. i will never have full confidence that any of this business of the app interacting with my account is true until there’s like, a tell all, specifically saying it is true, or like, kimby going on her instagram story saying farewell (mirror, mirror 😭). it is that obscure. and i am fully aware of that.

that being said, i went to high school in the early-mid 2000s and i am very familiar with the concept of the ARG (Alternate Reality Game). i watched my friends participate in I Love Bees, and my sister was super into the Lost ARG. please google what ARG’s are. i approach all this The Swift Life stuff with a conscience that tells me to believe in the possibility of fun: that, despite how cryptic our fandom may be, there is a possibility that we are not only in the right, but that taylor and her team are treating us to a grand scavenger hunt that is a cross-media and cross-platform networked narrative. and as a TS fan i feel it is my duty to try and appreciate this for what it may be, because if even 10% of it is true, it is an incredible feat and deserves praise and excitement from somebody because ARG’s take a ton of work. worse comes to worse? you’re right and i’m blacklisted from ever meeting taylor 😂 and i’m ok with that.

***

okay. here’s what i’ve got.

the taymoji gifts given out in between the 20 and 25, starting 8/31 (so post-engagement announcement) and ending 9/27 (after i made my first really big TSL post) are:

*the order and dates of them being given out can be confirmed on @theyachtinthekitchen . please scroll to the bottom for in-game screencaps.

if you follow my blog you may know that i believe the original point of the yacht in the kitchen event on TSL was to lay out for us (‘warn us’) that the ‘engagement’ between karlie and josh would happen, before it did. that’s not the consensus view but i think there’s room for it.

and now i assume the point of the lottery ticket plant, (assuming it was a plant and assuming it had to do with TSL 😂 if you can’t come along with me on these assumptions this post ain’t getting better), was to reassure us that:

1. the ‘wedding’ was a gamble (lotto ticket. see what i did there?), and

2. was not in the original plans, but that

3. it doesn’t mean we should stop believing because look, they’ve been interacting with us kaylors and why else would they do that?

i think the key taymoji to look at here are the ones before the pixel art heart. look at the language used. it’s always felt ominous to me.

🦰first the paper plane with the 89 i assume is to be interpreted to represent taylor.

🌹the rose, well established in my mind as representing karlie (go through my #taymoji tag on desktop), was given out the day before Carolina Herrera SS19, which karlie did not walk in despite being anticipated to (because that’s what CH’s instagram activity alluded to up til the day of). we get a taymoji saying it’s a “bad sign” if what we want didn’t happen.

so, taylor and karlie. this message is about taylor and karlie.

🚪next, on the morning of, we get this cryptic message along with what i’ve called the “coming out” door. “i want the red door” “i don’t want to wait forever” —language that felt sort of like a tease for us. we all want them to come out. we’re tired of waiting. but the door is saying, if we want that, we have to endure a little more.

🌳🃏the next two taymoji to be given out were given out as a pair— “looking at this now, it all seems so simple” “we had so many dreams [...] happy endings [...] now we know” which to me feels like a signal that original plans for taylor and karlie to come out at the timing they originally planned may have been scrapped. things got complicated. as i have mentioned before, that ripped ace taymoji has always felt so key to me. this idea of part of the heart being torn away as being “out” of its box.

the rest of the taymoji are a mix of times when i had a call and response with the app twice, (please scroll through my #tsl tag) the paul mccartney coincidence, and a slightly unsolved mystery revolving around the I Knew You Were Trouble Pack television. but i think if taylor was retroactively referring to a string of taymoji using numbers, she can’t really select a more narrow grouping of taymoji than by using what she did.

so what i’m saying is taylor intentionally went all the way to ireland to plant-rent a castle for PR for her beard’s movie, and simultaneously visited a local lotto ticket dealer with the intent to intentionally plant a hint for us kaylors?

😂

absolutely nuts of me to suggest. and no, i don’t believe the lotto ticket was pre-meditated and i’m not positive that these taymoji were originally laid out so as to be referenced at this moment, four months later.

but, i would imagine that if someone on her team happened to run in to such an opportunity, our girl wouldn’t miss out on it. it’s the kind of ingenuity and thinking on ones feet that i have come to expect from her and her team, and i would expect from a modern ARG. and if i was on her team, it’s the kind of innovation i’d aspire to deliver 🥰

so my takeaway here is that it’s a nod to us and recognition of our worries. i feel much better seeing how this connects because it says to me that the lines of communication are still open and they’re still watching us ☺️

as always, i think this can be interpreted many different ways and i encourage it. because honestly it’s a crime how much TSL has been flying under the radar. this is my first crack at it :)

ok, crawling back to my deep sea pirate’s den again to hibernate 😊 have a lovely day!

[brostateexam]

The flaw of weak ties

If you are going to read this, you should know I’m going to talk about someone dying.

We got AOL when I was still in grade school, and talking to strangers, some of whom eventually became friends, has been a lifelong avocation for me ever since. I’ve known some people I talk to on the internet for more than 15 years. I have internet friends or acquaintances or pen pals or whatever you want to call it that go back to when I was still in high school.

One of the things I’ve been thinking about a lot recently, though, are the weak ties on the internet. The people you get to know for a while through a forum or a fandom or a shared passion who you lose track of. The forum gets deleted, or you grow out of a hobby, or you stop using a platform, and by the time you return, it’s deleted or defunct or your friends are just gone. It’s a rare pleasure to be able to find someone after a long, long absence, all the more pleasurable because it’s so rare. Most people who are gone are just gone forever.

I wonder about people I used to talk to on the internet. I wonder if they went on to do the things they wanted to do. I wonder if they are happy. I wonder, somewhat egocentrically, if they think about me.

One such person was Pete. What always struck me about him was that he was incredibly kind and supportive despite (or perhaps because of ) dealing with some pretty severe mental health issues. Those were apparent both because he talked about them openly and because they kind of took over his life at times. He was also much more internet famous than me, so I had no illusions that we were bffs or similar. I was just flattered and happy he wrote back, and that he would talk to me. I fear I am not being clear, and I worry I am overstating our relationship. We were not close. We talked perhaps half a dozen times over the last decade. He was just someone I admired, someone who I thought was brave and very kind. 

Pete died December of last year. I did not find out until a few months later.

I was on tumblr when it occurred to me that I hadn’t see a post from him in a while -- he had never been that active here, though, so I switched to Instagram. Those of you who follow me there may have noticed that I am very rarely on Insta, but Pete preferred the more visual medium. His page there had a memorial post on it, which I assumed was a joke. I looked for some kind of link to his new instagram, or new tumblr, found nothing. 

I found nothing because it wasn’t a joke, and he was dead, and I had missed all the social media fracas about it due to being somewhat busy in the weeks following his death. I was pretty broken up about it at the time, but a mutual friend eventually filled me in on the details and knowing how it all went down helped me move on.

Recently, if you are gay or follow a lot of gay guys on social media (esp twitter and tumblr, but facebook too) you may have seen people talking about someone else who died (Jack aka Tank), and how it may be in connection to Dylan (who has had a lot of aliases over the years and who will definitely come back under another one eventually). I did not know Jack, but I was acquainted with Dylan. We both posted on the same forums about ten years back, and I’ve seen him run through names and usernames since then.

The Dylan I knew best was a skinny brown twink who desperately wanted a white muscle gay with blue eyes and a hairy chest to notice him. That he eventually committed to a gym routine, rather obviously took a bunch of steroids and had one, then two, then five boyfriends seemed like a happy ending for a guy who had always wanted to be huge and to be desired, not any kind of portentous omen. I had no concept of how fucked things were within his relationships -- I saw occasional social media updates, vaguely thought “good for him,” and moved on.

It made me feel, in retrospect, that I was lucky I never made my interest known. When Dylan was still in San Francisco, I almost did a few times, but figured he wouldn't be interested. He did message me once, I think about a year before he left SF, but at the time I was already seeing someone, and I never responded. Thinking about that recently, the phrase that came to me was: “I really dodged a bullet.” Then I felt awful for thinking that because, you know, that was a bullet I dodged, and then it hit someone else.

Hearing the details about how all this went down, and seeing them repeated on social media with more and more accounts of how Pete died, of how Dylan was in some way the reason for all this happening... it was just too much for me. It reopened old wounds about how sad I was about Pete’s death. It also made me feel stupid for even feeling this sad, because I didn’t know Pete all that well! It felt (and feels) stupid to center this on myself. Fact is, I’ve cried more about Pete dying than about my grandfather, and there is no cultural script for that. There is no way to explain to Non-Internet People that you are sad someone you didn’t really know and had never met but always liked is dead. 

I got my degree in school in social psychology. Exploring connectedness and the ways we relate to each other has always been a primary interest of mine. It’s been suggested by social psych theorists that when you need something that you can’t immediately gain access to, it’s the strength of weak ties that gets you what you need: a friend or a cousin or someone you know on the internet provides a concert ticket or recipe or legal advice or crucial introduction not because they know you, but because they know someone who knows someone who knows you. One thing the last few weeks have taught me is that there are downsides to weak ties, too, and downsides to connectedness. Weak ties mean you can’t really evaluate the person helping you because you lack the context (and or the expertise) to do so. And being connected, while broadly speaking a positive thing, can also hurt pretty bad. 

So while I’m hurting, I’m gonna be scarce, but I wanted to write about what happened with the hopes that doing so would make me feel lighter. It hasn’t yet, but maybe it will, in time.