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rumblelibrary · 3 years

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The Diary of Doctor Laszlo Kreizler

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Synopsis: Alienist’s notes are private, sometimes gruesome, secrets of others and of himself.Those pages belongs to secrecy and decadence, have a glimpse to this world made of drafts, notes, accidents and reflections. Or maybe it is you the only person that should ever reach for it.

While you read this imagine Laszlo mostly at the end of his day, scraping the ideas and the thoughts, adjusting previous notes with additions, closing the day behind himself with a couple of sentences while sitting in his evening robe, a good glass of whiskey and his glasses bridged almost at the tip of his nose. Or maybe imagine yourself, you sneaky thing, reach for it from a far shelf.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: listen, this is the set of ideas and confessions of a man living in the 1890’s. Most of them will be outdated, rough, even deprecating in some analysis of the roles of men, women and social status, religion, etc.So be prepared, my point is to make Laszlo reflect upon those topics, but to be as faithful as I can to his time. Mention of death, mutilation, self harm and sex. Psychologically troubled young children ahead! Author’s note: The story is placed between season 1 and season 2. Thank you for everyone that encouraged me to keep going. I have to wait for my local drop of serotonin to get fully Laszloed to go through this.

Lyra’s Contellation, Illustration taken from Uranographia by Johann Bode

Routine. Routine is comfort. Habit stabilises the character.

If you follow a routine, you won’t ever be victim of imprudence, of evil jokes of fate. The stability earned through calculated and repeated actions brings a sense of fulfilment that forbids other thoughts to come bashing in, breaking rules, breaking hopes that a solid scheduled routine forbids to have. I take my time to begin this week, I planned the things to do, the next steps for the case, the people to meet, the resources I am allowed to contemplate. I feel good, I feel back to myself and the events of the weekend seem far from me and my own perception. I probably got ahead of myself, carried by some instinctual though and random rush of emotion, to be always in contact with the same people and mostly kids probably doesn’t help my stance in the presence of other adults. I feel silly now reading back the last page, I felt tempted to tear it off, but to keep it there should be a small memento of not losing my temper so easily. I read it over and over and I know I am not as charmed as I thought I was. I am just lonely. I have always been and it is normal to face ups and downs even for a man of my age who is more accustomed to it. To desire a partner is a natural instinct, to find somebody attractive is meant by nature, it is the body calling for the natural fulfilment of the reason we are put on this very Earth. But even in a state of nature my own condition would be forbidding me to be part of the natural process of growing my own kind. I am the type of male that would be excluded because of his impossibility to give the protection to the pack, therefore it is just more reasonable to me to adapt to my condition. No matter what my Potentia generandi might be (the ability to procreate).

With all the smugness that characterises him, Niki showed off that he passed my challenge. But to be really of an help to his antics I didn’t show any kind of surprise. I treated him like he did the bare minimum, like he didn’t prove me any kind of superiority. He has a natural attitude toward challenging the figure of power, he is trying to overpower me, but I won’t satisfy his need. I have noticed he has a very technical brain, he finds ways to solve problems in ingenious way and not by throwing himself into the task. I proceeded giving him to work on a clock, an old broken one we had in the institute, one of the kids hit it with a ball years ago and nobody ever worked on repairing it. I gave him the clock, a couple of screwdrivers and a book. He called me a number of German names I won’t transcribe, but it gave me a certain amount of satisfaction. If my intuitions are right, I am sure the clock will be repaired by next week.

Analysis of the victim’s body through John’s eyes. The drawings and sketches are as detailed as I requested, all of this thanks to you joining him. I deal with art critic section, I am used to notice these things. You assure me, you play yourself low and I wonder why, nevertheless you did notice things neither John or I did, which pleased me. It fooled me, distracted me from my purpose to not give in to your witchery, as I leaned closer watching your pale hand move across the pages tracing this or that line, showing how this must be done with the killer on this side and not that side, with words so deliciously elaborate, your way of composing your speech is compelling, you could sell the drawing of a kid like it was a Botticelli. I noticed the shape of your hands, the way you move them, I wonder if you play an instrument, or played, some habits just stick with you through life. I focused on taking notes, your ideas and instructions giving me a new point of view, a new stimulus. What if that is the only way the killer can communicate? Or what if this is the communication that works for him? Could our killer be mute or deaf? Or that’s how society made him feel? This man, or woman, needs a listener and I am afraid that now, since he got our attention and the public’s, he won’t stop. Another killing could be just as close.

Scheduled: meeting with the parents of Alex Garel for new admission, Monday next week at 11 am. Love at first is a fetish and like all fetishes it is based onto an object that hides a deeper meaning, like gloves mean hands, to love at first sight means to see somebody that you think, and think only, to have the chance to share not only a sensual kind of bond, but an intellectual. Love at first sight is based onto not knowing someone well enough, but having the time to idealise most of that someone. I can see why I feel this attraction, using a particular phrase that Sara often mutters when investigating: you tick all the boxes. I know you do, your beauty is everything but conventional, you’re the kind of face that painters would paint and musicians would write hymns about, but any animal on the street would never be allowed to see. You have the grace of the body and the fire in the eyes, and then you speak. When you speak, I realise, you could bring the world to its knees. Also, you never speak out of context, and if you do it is to ease somebody’s position. You do it often with John or with Stevie, you say something really silly in order to put them back to a place of comfort. Some women would call it self deprecating, but I see that you only pick wisely your fights and your wins. You don’t need to earn your peace and quiet by neglecting, but by lifting up the others. I wonder if you do it with me too, if your silences are just you allowing me to be in a better place while instead your judgment is tearing me apart. I shouldn’t care, but I keep wondering, sometimes I take my time to answer you, I analyse every shade, every peculiarity of your question, I am looking for sarcasm, for a condescending voice, for something to hang on and bare you open. To prove myself you’re not perfect. But deep down I know that you do, you judge me and you do well.

Mother never said so. That’s what one of the girls in my care said today. Ursula. She is tough. Skin as thick as an alligator and the tendency to pull her own hair at night or when under a massive amount of stress, enuresis alongside erratic episodes of mutism. I tried the soft approach, it didn’t work. She is too accustomed to be indulged. Therefore today I pushed her a bit overboard, I teased her over opinions on the female body, the female role, she is only 12, but she is soon to bleed, she knows, I can tell from the way she clenches to her skirts, from the way she looks at me as a threatening figure. I am the incarnation of danger to her. Under her steady silence, I pushed a bit more, asking how her mother taught her to be nice and submissive. Does her mother tells her she is going to be a good wife? The phrase, which I reported at the top of the page, surprised me. What is her mother teaching to her then? What closed her so much, locked her soul away, making a small bird like this choose the silence and the retirement of self inflicted pain over, what? Mankind? Or just Men? Is that even a curse? Should I cure her from a truth that her own mother whispered to her ear one night before bed and made a child decide that the world wasn’t a place to share her time with? Am I the man supposed to teach her that men are worth of trust? In the eyes of modern society, who measures its own value over the modesty of the women, she would be a champion, but at what price? I can’t in any way let her parents bring her back home after our recent meetings. Nevertheless, I have to make up my own mind on how to give her troubled soul ease without making her believe in fables. I, as a man, regard myself not worth of any of the trust they expect me to teach her.

In all of my years practicing with people’s feelings and traumas, I challenged myself to find those same traumas within my own mind. It is a tricky game, terrible, anguishing at times. But it straightens me, the pain of others, the pain of kids mostly, so unadulterated and pure, breaks the curtain between me and the lies that I often surround myself with. Pain is made of method, you can open it up, you can scrutinise it, part it piece by piece dividing it in sectors and, partitions, centre part, side part, heart of the problem. Pain is reliable. Happiness is not. It is random, cruelly sudden, unexpected, it washes over you in such deflecting way only to leave you alone a moment after ashamed and alone. I saw you again today. You were in a table full of what I could only guess as your former university colleagues, I saw pain in you, not heavy but constant. Annoyance, a bit of sadness. Your head titling on side and your eyes drifting on the left, you’re imagining something away from them. A place? An object? Or maybe someone? Your hands play circles at the bottom of the flute of your drink like kids do, your smile only one sided. I don’t see you speak at all, only listen. What could keep your voice down? I almost gulped down my own breath as you looked up and I realised how I must have looked. I was having lunch on my own, in a very private table and even entertaining myself with a newspaper on the side. I wish you didn’t, but you came over, your eyes shining. Did I save you? Or maybe I was just a good excuse to leave that painful meeting behind. Don’t be so nice to me, it is not healthy. Don’t look at me like you expect anything more from me than me listening. I won’t smile back at you, I won’t give you care, attentions or thought. I won’t lean for your perfume, I won’t obsess over that dress you wore, that pin that adorned your neckline keeping your undershirt in place, a silver robin, I remember. I won’t remember the number of the buttons on the side of your glove, three. I won’t observe the little moles just under your ear. A small constellation, I later realised, hidden between your ear and the beginning of your neck. I don’t need to check in my books. It is a constellation. It is Lyra. Why? Why you must be like this? Are you the Lyra? Are you the instrument of Orpheus come to me to drag me out of Hell? The Tartarus holds my soul and you should know already, I am not worth the quarter part of Eurydice to be saved and she never came back anyway. I won’t be now recollecting the way your teeth sunk in the inner side of your cheek when you apologised for the annoyance. You apologised twice, I ignored you both times with a raised hand to request peace and silence. I am not letting you in.

Reserved: Tickets for Wednesday’s evening Traviata by Giuseppe Verdi. The guest female lead promises a beautiful show.

Leonardo, as I am learning through Paul Valery essay, is who I would define as a figure of projective identification of the Subject or, to better explain it, of the knowledge of the Subject that formed and grew through the use of sketches in the experience of the Artist. I have always thought that the finest form of art was the representation of knowledge duly undressed by any personal identification. Leonardo, instead, proceeded to represent the figure through the essence of the artist, a representation technically unlimited on objects and symbols and that keep expressing the transformation and development of Leonardo’s own being.Some artists are testimony of the destruction of the world, of the loss of eternal beauty over decadence. And then you have Leonardo, who creates an art that is the gravity of the world’s system, of the nature, of thoughts and abstractions. I wonder if our killer does the same, if the way they presents the victim through their own personal view, if what we can read there it is their stories, their pains, their needs. Their happiness and troubles. What are they trying to tell me? I need to know, I need to know to save a life, of course, but I also need to know to be able to sleep at night. Hair, hair are the epitome of femininity in any era. I keep studying Ursula and her habit to pull the. I took notes on it: she picks them by the bottom, slowly separates them until she gains an amount her mind defines satisfactory and then she rolls her finger and pulls, she does it until her finger is empty and there are no hair left. I find her process incredibly interesting. In men’s case the display of physical attributes is not as vital, a beard can be appreciated but does not modify the power of seduction of a grown man. On the contrary, for women hair are a vital part of their attractiveness toward the opposite sex, society sees the hair of a woman as part of their vital characteristics, also in ancient times for a woman to cut her hair or have her hair cut was a sign of deep separation from the society. Only heroines or whores wore that mark and the association of the two is so rooted into the way society always parted the role of a woman in two that it is nauseating to think of. I am still fearing to let Ursula go away, the repulsion that she is showing toward her own body makes it difficult even for me to crack her shell open as a man, but my deepest worry is when that hate will take a scarier and deeper tool on her. How a girl with such a fear of what her body can do, like sex or pregnancy, can endure in the future to have an husband? Or even to be courted by anyone?

John is helpless and I admire him for that. He doesn’t hide it, he just is. He is vulnerable and exposed, he is an open well bursting with doubts and feelings and troubled waters. He is genuine in a way I could never be. Maybe that’s why I despise even more him talking about you, how he sees you every morning, how you greet everybody, how you behave even with interns, how you like your coffee. Your talents, your wits, how you said this and acted like that and reasoned through him. How you forbid him to drink even when he felt tempted. How you stayed late over to help him collect all the informations I requested him to get. To him. Not to you. The evil demon of envy scratching in the back of my head screaming like a siren out in the sea, he demands to be heard, he demands to be allowed a part in this game. I won’t allow him that. I won’t allow myself any of that. This is a pure game of chess, if I give in a pawn now, I will lose my knight, and I know it. I advice him to not be so closed minded when he praises you, only to get surprised by the charms of a natural logical mind. I find a way to hurt him, he is an easy target, I look at him as his eyebrows twitch and he summons his patience on me. He lost the plot about you already, his bruised pride taking over. You won’t come into my life.

“Un dì, felice, eterea, mi balenaste innante, e da quel dì tremante vissi d'ignoto amor.” (“On a day, happy and ethereal, you appeared in front of me and from that day, trembling, I lived on an unknown love”)

The words of Alfredo in the first act of the Traviata keep running through me, a chant that won’t let me go, almost painful. The Opera House, that was my hiding place, a place where in plain sight I could let out myself, unleash. The catharsis of the characters involved running through me, I didn’t need anything but their voices and those musical instruments to let out my fears, doubts and anger. When Alfredo came to the scene tonight, the lights were strong and slightly pinkish, the performer bursting out of the seams with passion. My eyes diverted only to see you there. Alone. Those blinding lights gave you the the radiance of a vision singing the notes of greek myths and heroes, that dark blue evening clothing rang through my eyes like it was a bright yellow, the little shiny details that adorned you so clear against the heavy lighting to look like transparent pieces of water collected to adorn your beauty. I wasn’t me, but Alfredo, and I was helpless against you sitting so far and yet too close from me. I was naked in front of thousands. I am aware of the effect you have on me and our last conversation was barely regarded as one. This is infatuation, this is the pure work of a lonely mind and not something worth of any of all the words that I am dissipating here. Yet. I saw you cry at the climax of the opera, Violetta, the protagonist, heartbroken falling on stage consumed by pain and regret for her lost love and ultimate sacrifice. Your eyes shone as you tried to hide the tears and collect yourself. Through my binoculars, I saw your throat tremble and gulp down something more than just a sigh of pain. Your jaw clenched, your gloved hand moves to hide your shaking lips. I reckon, I have never seen such sad lips look more inviting. You look at the wall on your side breathing through your nose and not even that can save you by the strength of the voice of the soprano. You’re defeated and so you brought a fine silk handkerchief to your eyes, your shoulders bent inward in self defence. The Opera won. It won you like it always wins me. I wonder if you felt like this because of a past lover, somebody that broke your heart and made you feel wrong in any way. And because of that little wonder it is even more clear to me why I am a man worth of no trust. Because for a moment, I know, I wished to be the one that broke your heart. That gave you just the pain you’re inflicting on me so mercilessly by offering intoxicating kindness and beauty. To own your thoughts, tears and shame. To be the one man you have to look away from. I want to own all of that and, maybe, I will be freed of you the day you’ll be just another human being that hates Dr Laszlo Kreizler.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone

Let me know if you want to get tagged too <3

#the diary of doctor laszlo kreizler #dr laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler #dr laszlo kreizler x reader #dr laszlo kreizler imagine #dr laszlo kreizler x you #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler headcanons #thealienist #the alienist fanfic #the alienist fanfiction

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thoughts-on-bangtan · 3 years

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Let’s Talk: Jimin’s & Tae’s confessions (RUN Episode 141)

by Admin 1

Originally, I planned on writing a summary or vmin cut of the RUN episode but then I transcribed Jimin’s and Tae’s confessions and it got me thinking, and now here we are. Instead of a summary here are some of my musings and thoughts about their confessions and how they are right in line with things they’ve said in the past, and even quite recently, as well as how it fits with something Namjoon said in 2020 about them as well. I hope this will at least be somewhat interesting.

So, first, let’s look at Jimin’s confession, since this is longer and was first in the episode:

Jimin’s Confession

Jimin: Sometimes I am blunt. I’m like that at times.

Na PD: Taehyung, has Jimin ever said anything bluntly to you?

Tae: Nowadays, he's really putting in effort to fix that to the point where it rarely happens anymore. Jimin tends to be very hard on himself, which also broke our hearts to see.

Na PD: So, he gets stressed from himself, then gets mad at himself...

Tae: Then gets mad at himself.

Na PD: ...and then he blurts remarks.

(here it was a bit unclear (for me at least) which of the two said which line so I’m sorry if I mixed them up)

Jimin: It’s something I want to be forgiven for.

Tae: But Jiminie being blunt and me being blunt is completely different. Jimin has a kind hearted nature on the regular.

Na PD: Right.

Jimin: Are you usually not like that?

Tae: I’m, well...

The other members stop Tae, since it’s not time for his confession, and instead the question is posed by JK if they forgive Jimin to which everyone says yes.

Tae: You’re innately kind at heart. stretches out hand for handshake.

Jimin: Thank you. Jimin thinks (?) Tae might be going for a fist bump since he gives him his fist instead, which Tae still takes and shakes.

The first thing about this that caught my attention, as well as one of our anons, was the fact that instead of choosing literally any of the other members, Na PD turned to Tae and asked him to verify if something like that (as in Jimin being blunt) ever happened toward him. You could say we’re thinking too much here, interpreting too much into it, and yet it doesn’t change the fact that he chose to ask Tae. Of course it could be because he said at the start of the program that he feels closest to Tae since he heard about him from two of his Wooga squad friends, but it might’ve just as well been because he watched the members for a while already at that point (since they’d already been filming a few hours) and perhaps he did notice how Tae and Jimin naturally gravitate toward each other, have this special bond? Other people who worked with them in the past noticed it, so why wouldn’t he?

There’s actually moment where Jimin turns and says Taehyungie like he wants to ask him something or say something to him which isn’t in the subs and the members don’t notice it either so Jimin never got to actually say whatever he wanted to say. Also, we’ve all seen how Tae and Jimin behaved during the game in the previous episode, how happy, smiley and giggly they were while being silly together.

Then the actual confession itself, Jimin saying that he can be blunt at times, toward others but also especially toward himself. We’ve heard many times from Jimin about how much of a perfectionist he is, how he can get mad at himself for mistakes, how he sometimes speaks without thinking which can end up a bit mean/blunt, and now he’d like to be forgiven for it.

This actually reminded me of something he said to Tae before:

FESTA 2020 from 42:56 min onward (context - the question was: have you felt disappointed in or sorry to the member to your right?):

Jimin: For Taehyung I should say if I compare those two feelings to him I was more hurt than sorry. Over time, it was reversed. Now I don’t feel slighted. I’m more sorry about things. Back then we were buddies so we had a lot of disagreements or didn’t admit that we were wrong. So I felt disappointed about little things. Now he listens to me well so I feel sorry that I talked to him harshly and every little thing.

The last line especially sticks out to me. I know there’s some language nuance here that got lost in translation which wisha mentioned when the FESTA 2020 video was posted (but is now gone since her twt was suspended), and yet it doesn’t change that fact that it fits with Jimin’s confession, how he was harsh to Tae in the past but now feels sorry for it, and with what Tae said, that Jimin is now making an effort to fix that behavior, to not be so blunt/harsh anymore.

It’s so interesting to me to see these mentions of what could be seen as character flaws over the years, things that make them inherently human. Also it fits with what we know about the evolution of vmin, how they used to have disagreements, have issues with proper communication but over time worked on it, got better at it to the point where they can now understand each other by just looking into each other’s eyes, and Tae’s words about Jimin, how he’s an angel, the warmest person he ever met, and now how he has a kind hearted nature, therefore the bluntness is not taking away from it in any way.

There was also something about this in Jimin’s solo RollingStone interview which caught my attention:

(btw, if you haven’t yet, I highly recommend reading the main and solo RollingStone interviews because they are really, really good!)

Taehyung’s confession

Tae: Compared to the other members, I’m very lazy. Once I’ve set my mind on something, to get that into action, it takes me up to 2 months. I’m start working out, then quit. I’ve quit projects midway too. I’m the type where if I’m not feeling it, I don’t do it. There are times when I feel sorry to the members.

Someone (I can’t pinpoint the voice): How would be summarize this?

Jimin: You’d usually call this as “irresponsible”. He lacks responsibility,

Tae: I’m still an amateur.

Na PD: “I lack responsibility and am lazy”. Is that how we can understand it?

Tae: Yes.

Jimin: To be honest, we don’t think it’s to that extent, but if that’s what he feels... we forgive him.

Something I love about what Jimin said (in far fewer words than I will use because you know me, I can’t keep myself short) is that he essentially did two things at once, being: he assured Tae (and the viewers) that him and the members think differently, don’t see it as severely as Tae does himself, and then he also acknowledged the validity of Tae’s words, that even if Jimin doesn’t agree with him, Jimin knows that those feelings are still valid, that that’s what Tae feels and that, at the end of the day, even if the members don’t agree, they can’t change Tae’s mind, can’t force him into seeing things differently. The only person who can do that is Tae himself, and that’s okay. Jimin and the other members will still quietly support and reassure him when needed until he’ll “fix” this weakness, if that is something he wants to do.

This really shows how in tune with Tae Jimin is, but also how emotionally intelligent he is. Beautiful. Also, notice how Jimin said that without being asked to do so, which will come into play again a little later in this post and why I point it out specifically again.

Listening (or rather reading along) as Tae said that, it reminded me of something he said a few months ago:

Taehyung BE-hind Story Interview from 5:49 min onward:

Q: How do you cope when it’s hard to work/with these situations?

Tae: I’m very true to my emotions so uh...if I can’t write the songs or can’t come up with a title I just don’t. Like now!

Yoongi: That’s actually the best way.

Tae: I just don’t write it like how I’m doing it now, and I don’t want to be pressured to create something against my will.

Yoongi: It’s not like you have to finish a song within a day or two?

Tae: Right! So I’ve been taking some rest for about four months now. Now that I’m resting for four months...

Yoongi: Wasn’t your mixtape supposed to be out last year?

Tae: The mixtape that was supposed to happen last year was postponed. I should be in a state full of emotions right now, but I haven’t reached it yet. It’s like...my first mixtape so I want to feel that satisfaction when I release it whenever that time will be.

Yoongi: That’s why you have to finish the whole thing while you’re at it...

Tae: Yes.

Yoongi: ...or else it takes too long to finish it. So, you have to finish it within that period.

Tae: Right.

Yoongi: I’m guessing you might’ve missed the time.

The thing though is that what Tae said, that if he doesn’t feel it, he won’t do it/finish it, that just shows how much of an artist he is, how much his art truly matters to him, and how important it is to him that his art, in this case his music, turns out just the way he wants it to or else he won’t finish it or release it. And while Tae might call this “irresponsible”, I don’t think it’s that in this case, or that it’s a sign of laziness either, though just like Jimin, I don’t want to invalidate his feelings either. All I want to bring across is how in the context of his music, this isn’t a weakness or flaw, even if it might seem like it, especially in their line of work with deadlines, schedules and plans made weeks and months in advance where, usually, you can’t just take a four month break.

So, in that regard, I can understand how it can feel like a flaw to him, make him feel guilty about it and sorry to the members who in this case might rely on him to get something done on time and he might not do it, or not without forcing himself to do it or being dissatisfied, you know what I mean?

Earlier today Tae was on weverse and answered a few questions about his mixtape (though I have a feeling it really is time for ARMY to stop asking him about it and just let him breath) where he said that even though he got a song from someone and made ten himself, even with that break he took according to his BE interview, the songs just aren’t what he wanted them to be and thus he decided to start again.

Some could say it’s again a case of him being irresponsible the way he characterized it during the RUN episode, that even though he said last year he was almost done and would release it soon it ended up being postponed and now he started over again, but once again I think it just shows how very important his music is to him, and therefore I’d actually call it a strength. It shows how valuable his artistic expression is to him, to create music the way he wants to, at his own pace, and only release it once he feels it’s right.

One more thing, just like I said in the intro of this post, Jimin and Tae jumping in to assure the other, reminded me of something Namjoon said during his Map of the Soul : 7 vlive last year:

The context is a little different, but I think it’s still valid here as well, how Tae and Jimin made excuses for each other, how Tae immediately softened how harsh Jimin’s own words about himself might come across, assured both us and Jimin that really he has a kind heart despite this weakness, and then also Jimin by saying that things aren’t as bad as Tae makes them seem either. It’s interesting to really see something play out in a manner similar to what another member said about them based on having been with Jimin and Tae for the last nearly ten years.

Whoever claims that BTS just play out concepts or “plots” and characters given to them by the company really should just take a seat and stop. I mean, sure they all have a sort of persona they embody in front of the camera, at least to a certain degree, they’ve spoken about that numerous times, but they are still humans with flaws and their own dynamics between each other away from the cameras which, logically, also come across on camera as well, not always but enough for us to pick up on it. And in this case, with these confessions during RUN, we saw something that we previously only really heard about happen right in front of us proving (not that they have to prove anything to us, of course, we should simply trust them and what they tell us) that it really is that way.

Here’s the anon I mentioned earlier:

From anon: It might just be me lol but I think rather than Jimin forgetting he's being filmed for a show (with all those members of staff as onlookers as well) and blowing a kiss at Tae / blowing on Tae's chest, he probably just noticed a tiny bit of lint or fluff on Tae's cardigan or mic and decided to blow it off... Of course, if that was the case, that still reveals their high level of intimacy and the fact that even when interacting infront of strangers they seem to be unable to stop showing exactly how tuned into each other they are... I don't think it's a coincidence that Na PD chose to ask Tae, of all the members, to verify Jimin's statement about his flaw. He was probably observing them all day and noticed how particularly close they were, even amongst all the extremely close members.

#vmin #Jimin #Taehyung #BTS #BTS RUN episode 141

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zirkkun · 4 years

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Maybe this is cheesy, but with all the praising on stream, I decided I wanted to just gush about my friends and people I look up to on here too. I’m gettin’ sappy and sobby at this hour and I just wanna go out on a high note.

(Started writing this at about the half hour mark before Unus Annus’s death, and now it’s like an hour later. Gosh I just don’t know when to shut up huh? lmao)

@zilthai37 - heya!♥ know you don’t follow Unus Annus stuff, so this will definitely be out of no where for you, but god. You’re too good of a person. I can go to you for literally anything and honestly I probably take it for granted. Something trivial, something serious, you’re always down to talk. I’ve never met another human being who’s so open with talking about things and so open to learn about other people and ideals. You’re honestly so great and so wonderful, man. I love talking to you and I just want you to know that you’re incredibly irreplaceable as a friend and a person.

@cheshiregrinnbuttoneyes - I think you’re the only friend of mine from high school that still talks to me consistently -- and that’s so wild, considering during high school we almost never had the chance to talk. God, you’re just so passionate about your works and you’re always working on your art, and your art is so cute and wonderful. You’re also one of the NICEST people in the world. I don’t know many people who would be willing to give away what they have to support someone else. I adore talking to you and I’m so glad I didn’t lose you, and I never want to, not prematurely.

@secretly-neurotic - heyo! i dunno if you’ve been watching Unus Annus at all, so this might be a little random, but I just really want to say that you’re such a great friend and such a great memelord to talk to. Your art is AMAZING and I’m so glad that you’ve had the chance to be able to spread it to more people recently. I should do a better job of reblogging it so even more people can see it, haha. I know you’ve been real busy with school stuff lately and honestly i just feel really proud seeing you work towards things that you’re really interested in doing, while memeing it along the way. Tell your dad good luck with his BOTW game, hope you get your Switch back eventually lmao

@thoughtfullytired - i think of all my irl friends on this list, i’ve know you the shortest amount of time, but that doesn’t mean you’re any less valuable to me than any of my other friends. You always work so hard to improve your art, and you’re always so amazing at being able to express your emotions into your artwork. I love talking to you about everything, whether it be our nerd stuffs or just regular stuffs. You’re also so incredibly kind to offer your help on Act to Flirt, completely unprompted, when I came to you just ranting about my inability to write music, haha. Hoping the best for you in school (and for your space ship!!) even though I haven’t seen you in a long while.♥

@sansismybitch - ah the name sticks out in this sappy list, but it’s still a very fitting name regardless lmao. you’re honestly a really great and really inspired person. your dedication and interest in supporting those whose works you like is honestly unparalleled. i love when i get asks and memey submissions from you, it brings a smile to my day! talking to you is just so wonderful, and i know a lot of people out there would agree. i just want you to know that you’re really a wonderful person, truly.

@alch3mic - we’ve not talked very long, and I know I definitely already wrote you an incredibly sappy message the other day lmao, but this write-off wouldn’t feel right without saying something to you, especially since the two of us have been watching this stream together (though separately!) You’re just so incredibly passionate with all your projects and I honestly really look up to you and what you do. I’m always so happy seeing when you post because everything you write or draw always brings a smile to my face. Keep doin’ what you do man♥

@teirrart - maybe we don’t really talk (unless it’s some intense thirsting over milo), but I still really adore the work that you do! i think you were one of the first couple of people i followed when joining the fandom and re-joining on Tumblr here, because I adored the buttons you had on your store and bought them IMMEDIATELY haha. It’s still kinda funny to me to realize I have a set of buttons with Ink and Lust made by you and you’ve got my charms of Ink and Lust too.. it’s like a trade in a way, but I’ve just never had it happen lol. Your work is so cute, your characters are wonderful, and your stories are so emotionally driven. I adore them and adore what you do.

@tatatale - god, I still think about the drawing you did with Lust, Insans, and Ace. It brings such a smile to my face and it makes me so happy. I never thought someone who’s artwork and comics I’ve been reading since they started and really admired would ever make something with the characters I’ve made. And you do collabs and fanarts of people’s others works a lot! It’s so incredible to see. This kind of fan interaction is honestly so precious and rare. I adore your comics, I adore your art style, and you’re just so kind.

@owl-bones - we’ve only talked a few times, usually passively talking about the development of our dating sims, haha, but honestly your artwork is amazing, and the work you put into what you do is amazing. sometimes I sit here, a bit jealous of just how good Bonely Hearts Club is, but it’s honestly some silly jealousy lol. You put in an incredible amount of heart and soul into every bit of that game, and it’s so clearly evident even in just the short demo we’ve had so far -- everyone can see that. You’re an incredibly talented person.

...and, well, although you two will probably never ever see this, I suppose I’ll take the chance and throw my voice to the wind anyhow lol:

@markiplier and @crankgameplays - jesus christ, I’ve been watching you two for so long now that i can’t even believe how long it’s been. i was literally barely in high school. it’s so funny to me how I literally had the thought of “Man, I wish Ethan and Mark did more collabs” when YouTube decided to recommend me the escape room video from Unus Annus, a channel that I had somehow MISSED entirely. (At that point, of course. I watched every video from then onward and the ones from the couple of weeks I’d missed). It’s just so wild to me to really think that... a lot of what you two have done have really shaped me today. People often talk down upon the idea of looking up to others because people can do things wrong in the future and then - oh no - now you’re suddenly regretting supporting them. But you two have never once given me that kind of vibe, and I don’t feel like I’ll ever get that from you two in the future. Your work ethics and dedication to what you do really inspires me. It’s gotten me to where I am. Unus Annus ironically made me want death less when I was at such a low point in my life, and made me realize the value of using the time I have been given. It just somehow clicked for me. So, if either of you ever do see this? Just - thanks.

Memento mori.

but also, memento vivire. Remember to live.

#zircon rambles #memento mori #i dunno what to tag this as #sappy hours with zircon?#yall i just love you guys and all my friends #i never do enough for any of you #i just want to let you all know how wonderful and great you are

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clearlynotjanus · 3 years

Photo

Moceit Appreciation Week :: Baking

Read on Ao3

Art by @nonchimerical

tag list: @sanderssidesangsttrash @catalinaacosta @whatishappeningrightnow @the-snekwhisperer-world @varthandi @the-dead-and-the-decaying @serpentinesomebody

CW: Food mention, moral ambiguity Word Count: 2327 Genre: Hurt/Comfort Rating: Gen Ships: Moceit, implied if you squint Dukeceit

To support my writing & get access to exclusive content not posted anywhere else, consider subscribing to my Patreon.

The flower shaped cookies sat mockingly on the stove, having long gone cold. Two tubs of white frosting had been placed on the counter with some food dye as well. Many times he had second guessed the unassuming vials of concentrated hue--was it too much? Just as many times he had stood, picked up a frosting container, rolled it in his hands, picked at the aluminum before convincing himself not to peel it back, not to sink his finger in, not to cope with Janus’ absence by consuming a gluttonous amount of sugar.

He’ll show, of course he would. Janus hadn’t forgotten or … ditched him like that before. Just because he was preoccupied with something beforehand doesn’t mean he was forcing himself to come, forcing himself to spend time with him, indulging him, patronizing him … Janus would never, he enjoyed stuff like this! Even if … even if it was just for the sweets.

“Oh dear,” Patton inhaled between his sugar-coated teeth, shaking his head down at the demolished tub of vanilla frosting.

“Am I interrupting?” Patton jumped, hiding the nearly empty container behind his back, looking exactly like Pooh Bear after a honey binge, Janus thought.

“Janus!” Patton greeted, a little too much excitement and anxiety in his voice. “N-no, of course not, I was just,” He faltered, glancing at the cookies like they held an easier way of saying, I was waiting for you, thanks for not breaking my heart.

“...Testing the frosting?” Janus teased, easing into the kitchen, amusement sly on his lips.

“Yeah! Something, hah, something like that.” Patton chuckled down at the floor, a shoulder shrugging as he apprehensively brought the evidence forward. He weighed it nervously in one hand before grinning at Janus. “I guess it’s a good thing we had two containers!”

“Mm,” He hummed down at his hands as he peeled his gloves off. A rare occurrence of course, but having spent plenty of time baking together, one Patton had at least slightly adjusted to. A patch of shiny scales that spread from Janus’ left knuckle up to his wrist gleamed with the movement of folding his gloves neatly on the counter. Occupied with the curiosity Patton felt observing something so … pretty, he didn’t notice Janus reaching with a bare thumb to wipe away a sizable glob of sugar from the side of Patton’s mouth until the sensation jogged him out of thought. Janus looked down at it before placing it between his own teeth. Despite the way Patton’s mouth gaped, Janus continued to delicately scrape the sugar onto his tongue. “A good thing, indeed.” He smirked at Patton, satisfied with watching the glow of his grin quickly turn into a scarlet blush.

“Y-yeah,” Patton breathed, absolutely dumbstruck as Janus turned towards the stove. Relieved at no longer being scrutinized so closely, his head fell; cool palms pressed to his burning cheeks and a ragged breath was pulled in as quietly as he could manage. Dully he registered the sound of bowls being placed on the counter, but they didn’t make sense through the ringing in his ears.

His thoughts raced in circles as he tried to decode the meaning behind that flirtatious gesture. Patton wasn’t stupid of course, but he was an expert at assuming far too much of others’ words and actions; a pro at falling in love with basic kindness. The habit made him think at least four times over about everything ever since Thomas’ last heart crushing break up. Janus had to know that, right? And if he did, that made him really mean, didn’t it? Why then, did Patton enjoy it so much?

“...cold now, the frosting will be easier, right?” Janus paused for Patton to answer, setting the dye vials next to some arbitrarily chosen bowls. When the other didn’t respond, Janus turned just as Patton’s hands fell in a cartoonish motion. Janus caught the action in a blur, shaking his head back with a quirked brow. Patton blinked, eyes wide before catching up to the moment.

“Y-yeah, yes!” He nodded, again too eagerly, and assumed his position at the stove next to Janus.

“Wonderful,” Janus clapped his hands softly together at his chest. “This should be easy then,” He observed as he turned his head to smile at Patton in a way that had red climbing up his neck again.

Patton forced himself to inhale through his teeth and focus on the moment instead of how close they were standing.

“Thanks for getting the bowls,” Patton reached to place the vial of yellow dye in one before handing it to Janus. Reaching for a bowl of his own, Patton realized he didn’t know which color he wanted to start with. There were so many to choose from! Patton tapped his chin as Janus took the remaining tub of frosting. The signature sound of the aluminum being pulled back accompanied the rest of Patton’s sentence, which was mumbled almost shyly. “I wasn’t sure if you would think mixing the dyes was too much effort.”

“Says the person who insists on making the dough from scratch every time,” Janus snorted easily as he dolloped a spoonful of frosting in his own bowl, and then Patton’s. Patton bowed his head with a small bit of shame, but smiled at the way Janus teased him. “I know what I’m getting into every time I join you,” Janus continued, squeezing a couple drops of yellow into his bowl. Somehow Janus made the sound of a fork scraping against porcelain repeatedly not annoying. Patton didn’t know how he managed that; it always seemed like the second he held a utensil near anything, annoying noise was unavoidable.

“I guess that’s true,” Patton mumbled, finally settling on starting with purple. He planned to do a few of everyone’s favorite colors and let them know they were on the counter for the taking. Well, except yellow and green of course. Janus always did his and Remus’ himself. Carefully he squeezed a couple drops of blue and red into his bowl, tongue poking out the side of his mouth; Paton’s telltale sign of concentration. Knowing this, Janus let a few moments pass in silence as he began artfully scraping his pastel yellow mixture into a ziplock bag, which would eventually have its tip cut off to make piping the frosting onto the perfectly shaped cookies that much easier.

As Janus finished with that, Patton beamed at his perfectly purple colored frosting. The color had come out flawlessly, his concentration paying off well. “Making some for Virgil?” Janus asked conversationally as he held a ziplock bag open for Patton to begin spooning his mixture into.

“And Roman and Logan, of course,” Patton assured with a smile of appreciation as his tongue poked out once more.

“Of course,” Janus sassed but fell silent again as he watched Patton make sure he got every inch of the frosting inside the bag. He wondered how Patton ever did this without him. Had Roman helped? He couldn’t imagine the superfluous Prince capable of staying still long enough to hold a bag like this. The idea of Logan helping was almost comedic. Perhaps Virgil then … The two did get on very well and the brood had a history of helping Janus in the kitchen, years ago.

“Alright! Next color,” Patton cheered. Janus’ smile twitched and he busied himself with folding the bag of purple, squeezing out the air to be placed on the counter for later.

The bowls were placed in the sink and the process was repeated with a couple of clean ones, now with Janus mixing the forest green with a hint of yellow to achieve the Duke’s signature lime color. He watched as Patton used about half the tube of blue for Logan’s indigo shade, complaining all the while that it wasn’t dark enough and looked too much like his own favorite baby blue.

Janus hummed as he observed it; it was true, the color was far too light. “Try a couple drops of this,” He offered, reaching and handing Patton the unopened bottle of black food coloring.

“Black?” Patton said almost indignantly. His bottom lip jutted out an inch as he looked down at the bottle, turning it in his hand.

“Well, he likes dark blue, doesn’t he?” Janus questioned, wondering how on earth he could have offended Patton with the color black.

“I guess…” He trailed off, glancing between the bottle and the pretty light blue in the bowl. “It’s just…” Patton paused, realizing his thought was a bit silly, but it felt like a good question. Janus never made him feel stupid for asking things at least, even if the answer seemed obvious. “Logan’s … on our side, isn’t he?” Janus quirked a brow, his expression devoid of amusement suddenly. “L-like, mine and …. and Roman’s… I mean.”

Silence hung in the air for several seconds. Patton had begun regretting the question; usually, Janus had some sort of answer immediately. His mind was much faster than his, able to connect things instantly where Patton couldn’t even begin to see a relation. His explanations were always succinct, at least to him. This sort of pause was … rare, if not unheard of. He anxiously rolled the bottle in his hands, wishing he could just sink out and leave.

Janus started with a quiet click of his tongue as his head turned to look at the wall behind the stove. “Since when is color indicative of that sort of thing,” Janus mused rhetorically. Another pause ensued and Patton wasn’t quite fast enough to draw his own conclusion from that line alone. He did start to wonder, however, if he had managed to hurt Janus’ feelings, and if that was why he was reluctant to answer.

“Yellow doesn’t exactly scream evil, does it,” Janus said with too much venom on his tongue as he looked back at Patton and jabbed a hand almost violently at the bright gloves resting on the counter. Patton held the bottle to his chest, shrinking away as Janus’ anger showed. He didn’t like when Janus got angry, but he at least understood it. He knew he could be frustrating.

“Neither does bright green, right?” Janus tilted the bowl towards Patton unnecessary before sighing. “Your side, my side,” He mumbled, walking away from the counter. Patton frowned at the ground as Janus reigned his frustration in.

He had a point. Yellow was bright and happy; the sun was yellow, dandelions, sunflowers … lots of good things were yellow; and green was everywhere. Not exactly the Duke’s shade of green, but green nonetheless, Patton guessed. Why had he never noticed it before? Between everyone, only he and Roman wore bright colors, but that didn’t make Virgil, in his black hoodie and equally black jeans, any less good than either of them! What did that mean for yellow and green then, if even a color as dark as indigo was to be considered light?

“I’m sorry,” Patton sighed, shoulders deflating. He cautiously approached Janus’ back.

“No, no,” Janus muttered, fingers pressed to his brow with a thumb on his cheek, a hand on his hip as he berated himself for showing so much of his aggravation. “I shouldn’t have gotten so upset.”

“I get it,” Patton’s tone smiled bitterly as he hesitatingly placed a hand on Janus’ shoulder. “I’m really frustrating and ask stupid questions sometimes.”

“Pat…” Janus turned his head to frown at Patton. “That’s not…”

“Forget I asked anything,” he squeezed Janus’ shoulder and nodded towards the cookies on the stove. “C’mon, we should finish up.”

Janus stared at the wear on Patton’s face for a long moment. The air was sweet and not just because of the frosting on Morality’s teeth. There he went, hurting Patton again. Would he ever be able to stop?

“Sure,” Janus deflated and reached up to place a hand over Patton’s on his shoulder. For a moment, Patton’s facade fell and the surprise in his expression was genuine, but the slip was only quick enough for Janus to catch.

The familiar routine continued, now silently as Janus scooped Remus’ green into a bag. Patton stared down at the black dye in his hand but only paused briefly before tearing it open and poising the tip above the bright blue frosting. Janus held his breath and it seemed Patton was doing the same.

“I’m sure Log--” Janus started, about to reassure Patton with the idea that Logan would enjoy a cookie no matter its color, but was interrupted by two black globs falling into the bowl finally. Janus closed his mouth and watched from the side of his vision as Patton began mixing the color thoroughly; slowly at first, and then as the blue darkened to a familiar indigo, faster.

“Oh,” Patton sighed, soon smiling down at the bowl of perfect Logan-colored frosting. “It’s perfect,” He grinned at Janus, seeming to instantaneously forget their altercation.

Janus’ smile back was softer, much more relieved than anything. “It is,” he nodded and reached for a bag to hold open once more. When Patton had finished scooping the frosting inside and Janus had turned to place the bag with the other two, Morality paused.

“Thanks,” He mumbled to Janus’ back, hoping he would attribute the sudden appreciation to helping with Logan’s color. Really, Patton wasn’t quite sure what it was he realized, but he did realize something about the black and white way he viewed everyone; and that was thanks to Janus, as usual.

Janus ran his hands over the ziplock bags laying atop each other. Yellow, purple, green, indigo, soon to have light blue and red together with them. The colors didn’t mean anything, even if they were obviously representative of a specific person here. Sure, they could theorize all day about why each color, but what did it matter? A little darkness in someone didn’t make them all bad, obviously.

“Of course, dear.”

Chapter One || Chapter Three

#moceitappreciationweek #moceit appreciation week #moceit week 2021 #moceit #sanders sides

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curious-shadow-cat · 3 years

Text

Sleep

Made a Chuck/Papa G fanfic. Lemme know what you think. I don’t really like writing fanfics I mostly enjoy drawing comics. Oh well. Gotta get better at writing though somewhere I guess. I’m putting it under ‘Keep Reading’ ‘cause it’s a little long.

It's been a couple months for Chuck on this planet Earth. He's been living with George, or Papa G, in his house ever since he was thrown off his cowardly ex leader's ship. He thought it was a bad idea at first, especially since he caused them so much trouble, but George wouldn't take 'No' for an answer and immediately started fixing up that spare room he used to use as storage. He found some planets and hung them up from string on the ceiling over his bed. He painted the walls with other planets and some big stars. The nightstand and dresser were painted blue and black. There was a UFO lamp on his nightstand by his bed, it looked like it was abducting a cow. Chuck kinda likes it, he thinks it's a little silly. Where you'd walk in, you'd see the bed across the room by the oval shaped window. The floor was made of wood and there was an oval shaped rug that was black with two yellow rings on the outside and had Earth and the moon on the inside. He even had his own little T.V across from his bed on the dresser with some VHS tapes that Papa G found, or some that he bought from Jo. Most of them being about Action, some of them Horror, others were Romance. When Chuck first saw his new room he nearly cried. He never had his own room. Never looked as nice as this. Chuck wasn't sure how to thank him. He's a strange old man but he was kind and caring. But he later found out that George was struggling with money so he decided to get a job working at Mo's Oasis Cafe. It was a difficult week, new customers coming in, giving him some trouble but Tuna was kind enough to show them the Exit. Some were friendly. Some of them asked him quick questions like: Where he was from, how old was he, and his favorite: Was he single? But others would give him cold glares when he'd go back in the kitchen. He mostly cleaned the dishes but would sometimes take the customer's orders if Jo was running late or sick. Which was barely. After a little while, work got better. There were some problems here and there but not enough to wanna make him quit. Besides, coming home to see Kid running up to him excitedly to tell him everything he did today was nice. Or coming home to see George made him dinner and found something cool while him and Kid were exploring the desert, lookin' for treasure, and wanted to give it to him.

When they all went out to explore with Jo, Rosa and Tuna to see if anything new popped up in the desert, Papa G decided to bring some paper and pencils and crayons this time. Later he Sat down by a rock and started drawing something. Rosa wasn't interested in art at the moment, she was busy playing Princess and dragons with Chuck, Kid and Jo. Kid was the dragon and Jo was the wizard protecting Knight Rosa and Princess Chuck. Papa G kept glancing up at them and smiling. Eventually Rosa got tired and started picking flowers for Chuck, Jo and Kid. Everyone was eating snacks except George. He was focused on his drawing. As Chuck was eating some ice cream he noticed that George was staring at him. When he looked at him he quickly looked back down at the paper and continued drawing. He blinked. He was he...? No-he thought; he's probably drawing something else. He continued eating.

The sun was setting and it was time to head home. Papa G was carrying sleeping Rosa with one arm while holding his drawings and pens in the other. Jo was carrying sleeping Kid on her back. Papa G helped Chuck get his wheel chair in the back of the truck and helped him in. They all went home. George brought Kid back to the little trailer and tucked him in bed. He gave him a kiss on his head and turned out the light.

Papa G:"Sweet dreams kiddo." He whispered and went to the house. Chuck was in his room lying on his bed and watching T.V. He was finishing up one of the action movies until George came in."Well, G'night Charles. I'm going to bed. If ya need anythin' wake me up."

Chuck:"Good-night George." When he shut the door something fell to the floor from his pocket. Chuck got down and picked it up. It was one of his drawings. He gasped silently when he saw that some of these sketches were him. So he was drawing him! There's one where he seems happy with flowers that Rosa picked on his head, one where he's eating ice cream and another....he's sleeping? He looked confused. He doesn't remember sleeping. He can't actually remember when the last he actually had a good-night sleep. He's always been wide awake when he was on gaurd on the ship. Anytime he'd get tired, he'd force himself awake. It's what you had to do. Either that or be punished. He heard the credits song playing. The movie had ended. He looked back at his bed. He shrugged. Well...he wasn't back on the ship anymore... what harm could sleeping do now? He turned off his lamp and covered up under the blankets. He looked out the window on his right and was watching the stars until sleep finally took over him.

-------------------------------------------

The alarms were going off.

Something was very wrong.

Chuck found himself wide awake in his old bed. He had his legs back and gun in hand. He jumped out and ran out the door.

Chuck:"W....why am I here? I thought I was--"

PEWWW!

He was nearly hit with a ray to the face. He dodged it and it hit another soldier. Killing them instantly. He started running as more shots were fired. Killing or injuring his team. Smoke and screams filled the air.

Chuck:"I need to get out of here!" His heart was beating against his chest. He was so confused and afraid. Was he kidnapped? Was any of this real?! Why was this happening? The walls blew up and he hit the ground with the wall landing on top of him. He struggled to break free. He called for help but the soldiers kept running. They were ignoring his cries for help. He felt something on top of him slowly begin to crush him. He looked up. Glaring down at him was a mechanical monster with large glowing red eyes. It opened it's mouth showing rows and rows of sharp teeth. He tried reaching for his gun across from him but he couldn't grab it. The creature came closer towards his head. He couldn't do anything. He screamed. It was all he could do.

"Chuck!"

He stopped screaming when he heard that familiar voice.

"George?"

"Chuck!"

The voice was coming from behind him. He looked at the monster. No longer did it seem all that terrifying. It was giving him a look of concern...?

"Chuck! Wake up, Chuck! It's all a nightmare!" It spoke in George's voice.

-----------------------------------------------

Chuck opened his eyes finally and found himself on the floor by his bed with the blankets wrapped around him. George was over him with a worried look on his face. He was still in his pajamas and was wearing his glasses. Chuck sighed, he was relieved it was all a dream. George smiled.

George:"Haha....you gave me quite a scare there..." He helped him up back on the bed and fixed the blankets."Alright, no more ice cream and popcorn before bed." He said, he was joking kinda. He could see that Chuck was still shaking."I know, wanna come down stairs and watch T.V with me? I'll make some tea." He spoke softly. Chuck calmed himself down.

Chuck:"Uh, alright then." Instead of taking his wheel chair, Papa G carried him down stairs to the living room and placed him on the couch. He went in the kitchen and made them both tea. He sat back down next to Chuck and they both watched some T.V for a little while. George finally spoke up.

George:"So you finally went back to sleep."

Chuck:"Hm?" They looked at each other.

George:"I've seen you sleep before but it wasn't long 'till Kid woke you up when he and Jo started blasting music. You nearly hit me in the head with that glass cup. Do you remember that?" Chuck tried to remember but nothing came up. He shook his head no. He was frowning. "Anythin' you want to talk about?"

Chuck:"There's nothing really to talk about. I'm pretty sure I've told you about all my adventures in space." He took a drink of his tea.

George:"I can tell you left out some of the worst ones from Kid. You and I both know it's not all fun and games in Space." Chuck looked away from him. "If you don't wanna talk about it, it's fine. If you need someone I'm right here for ya Charles." He smiled and took a drink. Chuck looked back at him. He already knew he could put his trust in George. But hearing him say those words out loud made him feel better.

Chuck:"Thank you, George. That means a lot." He never noticed it until now but he was so tired. He never knew he was this tired. But he wanted to stay awake a little longer. They watched T.V all night with blankets wrapped around them. George was leaning on the arm of the couch and Chuck was starting to lean on George. He felt his arm around him, gently pulling him close and held his hand. Chuck squeezed it gently and laid his head on his shoulder. He closed his eyes. He felt his worries slowly disappear and soon fell asleep.

#Long post #Papastuck Fanfic #Kid Cosmic #Stuck Chuck #Papa G #Chuck #Rosa #Jo

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thinkingimmensely · 3 years

Text

Like An Open Book X

Part 1 | Part 9 | Part 11

A/N: Hello everyone! We’re halfway through the first month of 2021 and here’s a new chapter for y’all! Comments are very much appreciated <3 I want to know what you guys think of the story so far, it also gives me motivation to write more really :D

This chapter is quite long, I didn’t want to cut it halfway through since it breaks the momentum thingy haha, I hope you guys don’t mind and enjoy it! <3

MASTERLIST

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything from the Potterverse!

___________________

Remus and James had jumped into the water creating a wave that hit you, Sirius, and Peter. The boys soon started a wrestling match, with James up on Remus’ shoulders while Sirius was up on Peter’s.

You laughed as you watched Sirius successfully topple James down, winning the first round of their little wrestling match.

It was the first time you were actually laughing out loud with people you considered as friends, you realized, and if you dwelled on the thought, you felt like crying out of the happiness that filled you right now.

Because you were someone to them, you finally found a place where you belonged… but, will they still have you even though you had the ability to know their every nook and cranny? You knowingly frowned, then wiped it off your features.

“I’m feeling a bit knackered, I’m going to rest for a while!” You called out to the boys and they replied with a chorus of okay’s and aright’s. You swam back to shore and got off the water with ease. You sat on the blanket Remus had spread out earlier and wrapped a towel around yourself; you were already beginning to dry, what with the sun harshly beating down on you.

You would’ve used a drying spell but then you already used that whip earlier and you wouldn’t want to try and press the Ministry’s buttons with using so much underage magic. Thank Merlin Legilimency couldn’t be detected then, since you’d no doubt be behind bars with the number of times you’ve used it outside of Hogwarts.

You sighed, you wondered what Lily was doing right now; you hoped she was having as much fun as you were. She had written to you a few days ago saying that although she still finds James and company (excluding Remus) quite irritating, she was really glad you were having a grand time. She had also attached a picture of herself with the Eiffel Tower behind her. Your thoughts soon drifted off to a certain Slytherin student; you considered him a friend who knew you as well as you knew him. You’ve been inside Severus Snape’s mind too many times that you could read him as easy as an open book, and you’ve seen his fascination with the dark arts and his inner struggle to try and change his views about this whole mess.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about him anymore; despite his gloomy and snarky attitude, he was good company, and a good student. You just wished your memories about the time Mulciber and the others attacked you came back, maybe then you’d understand why Severus was hellbent on ignoring you; and if only Severus stood still for a moment, you could just peek and get the answers yourself.

Your train of thought was soon cut short as the boys got out of water and were heading your way, big smiles on their faces as they chatted. You cast a smile their way as they came near enough, your thoughts about Severus and your lost memories tucked into the back of your mind for now.

“Hey Y/N, how do I look?” Sirius asked as he came into view by your doorway. You turned to look at him and chuckled as he twirled around for good measure. He adorned an all-Black attire, with his black shirt, skinny black jeans, combat boots and a leather jacket.

“Like you’re ready for a rock concert.” You commented. He flashed his white pearls at you and came inside the room as you were just finishing up your preparations, pocketing your wand in your hoodie, you turned back to Sirius just in time to catch his pushing his long hair back his shoulders, “Do you want me to tie your hair up? I figured it might be annoying if you leave it down later.”

“Good idea!” He chirped and sat down on a stool by the vanity dresser. You came up behind him and scooped his curls in your hands, taking time to do it as neatly at possible, and tied it up with an extra elastic band. Sirius admired himself in the mirror, “My, don’t I look dashing?” He said then stood up as you snorted.

“Like a masterpiece.”

“Darling, may I commend you on your keen eye on beauty?” The both of you broke out laughing and Sirius wrapped an arm around your shoulders and smiled down at you fondly, “Anyway, I’m here to pick you up, the others are already waiting downstairs, and may I add, are itching to go. So, shall we?” He dropped his hand off your shoulder and offered his arm instead.

You shook your head and found this all so silly, but you hooked your arm with his nonetheless. “We shall.” The both of you teetering on your way down, arms linked together. James gave you two a confused look when you came into view, but decided not to say anything. You moved away from Sirius when Remus came out of the kitchen, cookie in hand. “Quick snack before we go?”

Remus smiled at you, “There’s more in the kitchen, I see you eyeing my cookie. Get your own.”

You placed a hand on your chest at mock-hurt, “Ouch Rem, what ever happened to sharing?”

“This is Sirius’ fault no doubt,” Remus said, then turned to the gray-eyed boy, “look what your influence has done to her; she’s as sassy as you.”

“Oi, it’s time to go!” James called out from the doorway.

“Now you kids be careful!” Euphemia doted, “Always carry your wands with you.”

James nodded as the rest of you piled outside, “Don’t worry mum, we’ll be back at dawn!”

When your group arrived at the area where the concert was held, there was already a swarm of people out and about. Remus placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder as you guys braved the crowd. The five of you soon found a spot beside a trailer, Sirius already had a few girls chatting him up while Peter hung on to their every word. Remus and James kept you grounded with all the muggles around and their hearts on their sleeves. They distracted you with conversations and jokes that you didn’t even notice the time that passed until the concert was starting in a couple of minutes.

The swarm of people started gathering and despite Remus’ best efforts to at least provide you with some space to personal space, you found yourself struggling to breathe as strangers pressed upon you as they headed near the stage to get a better view.

“I’m gonna go buy something to drink!” Sirius informed you guys over the cheers of the crowd as the band took to the stage.

Your ears were ringing and you grabbed Sirius by the sleeves of his jacket, “I’ll come with!” You shouted back. Sirius gave you a look of surprise but nodded nonetheless and the two of you dispersed from the rest.

You breathed a sigh of relief as the two of you approached a stall where they sold a variety of drinks. It wasn’t as crowded in this area compared to earlier since the concert just started.

“All right?” Sirius asked as you fanned yourself with your hands.

“Of course.” You replied as Sirius took the can of root beer and fished out a couple of muggle currency out of his pocket. He eyed it then flashed you a sheepish look. You rolled your eyes, chuckling lightly as you helped him pay, getting the right amount and handing it to the vendor.

He popped the lid of the can open releasing some fizz, and took a gulp. “Ack, I didn’t think beer would taste like this. Do muggles really get drunk with this?”

You raised a brow. “Are you serious?”

He furrowed his brows at you, “Yes???”

You shook your head, “I mean, that’s root beer, it isn’t alcoholic. I think it’s more soda actually.”

Sirius frowned and looked at the drink in his hand and took another gulp. He shrugged, “Kind of reminds me of butterbeer.” You laughed at that. He offered you the drink and you gladly took a a few gulps before giving it back to him, your thirst quenched for the time being.

You two were about to head back to the others when another group of girls crowded Sirius saying they just wanted to chat a bit. He had cast you a hesitant look before you waved him off, telling him that you’d wait for him. And wait you did, quite awkwardly at the side until someone suddenly grabbed your hand and pulled you away in haste. “What the bloody hell!” You exclaimed and snatched your hand away but the person turned to look at you. It was a he, and his eyes stormed with panic. “What are you doing here?!” He snapped as he pulled you further away from the crowd, you willingly followed this time, your mind still not believing the fact the he was actually here.

“I should be asking you that. I thought you didn’t hang out with muggles, Sev?” You tried to stay calm, but now that he was talking to you, you felt your nerves tangling up inside of you. For weeks he hadn’t said a word to you and now he’s snapping at you?

Severus ran a frustrated hand through his hair, “We don’t have time for this. You need to leave. Now.” He warned, “Something is about to happen and-” he was about to say but you cut him off, “What do you mean? You- you've been ignoring me for weeks and now... now you show up from who knows where and tell me to leave?”

He placed his hands on your shoulders, “If you think of me as your friend like you always say I am, then trust me when I say that it’s not safe here. They’re coming!”

“They’re?” You asked but before Severus could reply, people with masks and hoods over their heads apparated to the crowd from thin air, cackling noises vibrating throughout the area; people soon began shouting in shock and confusion. “No...” You whispered horridly. Death Eaters. You were about to run back to the crowd on instinct but Severus grabbed your hand. You whipped towards him, “Let me go! The others are still there!” You cried out. Green blasts lit at random places in the crowd while another batch of wizards and witches arrived, the cackling caused by apparation being overlapped by screams and spells. The new group battled the Death Eaters immediately, so they must be Aurors sent by the Ministry.

Muggles ran past the both of you, and someone slammed right into you and Severus, releasing the boy’s hold on you. You took this opportunity to get up and sprint back to search for your friends. You could feel your eyes prickle with unshed tears, of course Severus knew, he was one step away from joining them. “Sirius! Remus!” You shouted through the swarm of people. “Peter! James!” Shouts echoed the area as the people escaped, they’d never hear you at this rate. Hopelessness started to engulf you as dread filled your body. Everyone was scared you could hear everyone’s screams and you could slowly feel yourself lose your strength; you could feel yourself lose your own thoughts.

E c h o e s

Your mind was like a cave that had voices bouncing off its walls; echoing deeper in its crevice.

You’ve lost yourself in that cave countless of times before, each one was not a moment you looked back on fondly. Now you’re back and it seemed like the rocky walls of thoughts were closing in on you.

C l o s i n g r i g h t in

Covering your ears didn’t help, but you did it anyway. People were running amok; children were being separated from their parents, friends were losing each other in the crowd and you couldn’t focus even if you had to- the voices in reality was being mixed with the ones in your head.

Everyone was screaming.

You felt someone pull you away just as a flash of green hit the spot where you just stood.

You didn’t even know who he was.

“Y/N, are you all right?!” The person shook you, and you looked into hazel eyes that were wide with worry and fright. His hands held you by your shoulders in a vice-like grip and you were pretty sure he wasn’t even aware of it himself. “Stay with me. Focus on me.” His voice left no room for argument and you found yourself keenly aware of how close your bodies were. If the both of you weren’t stuck in this life-or-death situation, you would’ve turned into a million shades of red right now.

The both of you were hunched back behind some bushes, shielding you from the sight of any Death Eater around the area. He pried your hands away from your ears, his eyes never leaving yours, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until now, but everything in your head seemed quieter as James Potter’s thoughts drowned everyone else’s away. I’ll keep you safe, we’ll get out of here, we’ll get out. You breathed in a shaky breath and got your wand out of the pocket of your hoodie. “I won’t let anything happen to you too.”

You wiped your tears away and steeled your resolve. James pulled you up and held your hand tightly as you went around, trying to find your three friends. “Protego Duo!” You cast just as one of the Death Eaters was about to blast an Auror from behind.

“Stupefy!” James shouted and it hit the Death Eater square in the chest, making him fall backwards with a thud.

DIE

Merchant stalls caught on fire from Incendio, smoke erupting from the flames. You wiped your tears on the sleeve of your hoodie as James screamed for the names of your friends. He had long let go of your hand as the two of you cast spell after spell in defense and retaliation.

IMPURE

Someone had slammed into you again, sending you to the ground in a hard thud, your head hurt from the impact and the person paid no heed to you as he scrambled up and continued to run away.

MUDBLOOD

Muggles cry out as green hits them. How many has fallen? James had rushed to your side to pull you back up, and you groaned in pain as you did.

DIE

You whipped your attention behind you and saw the Death Eaters duel against Aurors. Someone seemed to float past the turmoil, unperturbed by the events and your blood ran cold. The man had snake-like features, his eyes were scarlet and his face, masklike. And throughout everyone, his eyes locked on to you and a sinister smile slowly spread on his face, time seemed to slow down, but not in a good way. His cruel entity radiated out of him and his thoughts made you want to hurl.

“Ah, a Legilimens!” He shouted, and despite all the noise around, his voice still boomed and everyone paying attention still heard him. A mistake. You made a mistake and now he knows. “And also well-versed in Occlumency I see.” He grinned, and you knew he tried to go into your subconscious as well.

“James,” You croaked out as the boy stepped in front of you, wand drawn, you didn’t want him to find out this way. You wanted to be able to tell them yourself when you were ready.

The Auror you saved shielded the both of you, shouting that you needed to escape.

“There is no need!” The snake-like man announced, “There is no escape from the Dark Lord!” He howled, “Avada Kedavra!” He yelled and the Auror dropped dead as the spell hit him square in the chest. You couldn’t even scream.

Shivers ran down your spine. This was him; this was Lord Voldemort in the flesh. Why was he here? Didn’t he usually leave little events to his followers? “You girl,” He called out to you and stretched out his hand, “Your talents will not be wasted if you join me! This is the first time I met a child blessed with such prowess of Legilimency! You may be only second to me! The boy beside you shows great potential as well, the both of you will rise up in my ranks with your skills!” Even though it seemed like he was complimenting you, his cold and steely tone held no such impression.

You gripped your wand tightly, ready for any sudden movements as sweat trickled down your forehead at the suspense. You glanced at James; the boy never took his eyes off of the Dark Lord and anger burned behind those hazel eyes.

“We will never join you!” James snapped and flicked his wand towards a fallen log and propelled it towards Voldemort and his other death eaters. The both of you took this opportunity to escape, never bothering to look back.

Voldemort bellowed at the petty trick, instantly blasting the log into pieces. “Leave them!” He commanded his followers when they were about to pursuit. “There will be many chances in the future.”

“Remus! Peter!” James exclaimed in relief as he saw the two. The four of you reunited and Peter was bawling his eyes out in fright, his hand that held his wand tightly was trembling vigorously as he held it up in defense.

The three boys looked haggard and you figured you were as well. All of you stayed on your guard as the battle still raged on. “We need to find Sirius and get away from here.” James said and the rest of you nodded in agreement.

“Petrificus Totalus!” Remus casted, hitting a Death Eater, disabling him from making any movements. You didn’t have to look for long when Peter spotted Sirius dueling with someone a few meters from where you stood.

“Peter, look out!” You shout and tackled the blonde boy to the ground as a spell flew by the both of you and hit another person instead. “Immobulus!” James shot at the perpetrator while Remus shot him with a Flipendo, sending him backwards. You helped Peter up, the boy looking absolutely distraught about that near-death experience but still continued on with the rest of you.

“Wouldn’t it be great if you joined us, cousin?!” A woman with wild, curly, black hair exclaimed as she shot spell after spell at your gray-eyed friend. You could feel the bloodlust radiating off of her as she had no qualms on dueling against her family member. Bellatrix Lestrange, or as you knew her back then, Bellatrix Black.

“In your wildest dreams, Bella!” Sirius retaliated with a smirk as he countered her every spell, hex, and dodge every curse. Unlike the other Death Eaters, Bellatrix didn’t wear a robe nor a mask to cover who she was. She was quite proud to be a follower of Voldemort and was sure to flaunt it.

A flash of green light burst in the sky all of a sudden, which made all of you look up and halting all duels. A colossal skull decorated the sky in a flurry of green smoke until it etched itself on the black sky like a new constellation. A snake protruded from its mouth like a tongue. The Dark Mark.

Now, just as sudden as the Death Eaters arrived, they vanished, leaving the aftermath of destruction in their wake. An eerie silence enveloped the area as the Aurors made quick work on damage control. The muggles that escaped were soon tracked and obliviated of any memory of magic that transpired.

You stared into the distance. Your throbbing head soon healed as a healer made quick work of any injuries the five of you may have sustained. “Your use of underage magic today will be overlooked as an act of self-defense.” An Auror informed you and your companions.

You sighed, “Can we go home now?” You were exhausted, all of you were, and James’ parents were probably pacing themselves in worry. The Auror looked at you, thinking. He was as tired as you guys were, and he surely didn’t want to deal with students right now.

“Of course. We will contact you if we have additional questions. Now, you shall be escorted-” He was about to say but James cut him off, “No it’s fine. My place isn’t far from here...”

You zoned out of the conversation when the Auror started explaining the need for an escort and James insisting that the lot of you could look after yourselves, your focus shifted to the people being obliviated. The flash of the wand as the spell was cast seemed so familiar, yet so foreign. You placed a hand on your head as flashes of darkness appeared in your mind. You suddenly stood up, much to the surprise of your friends, and you approached one of the Obliviators.

“Excuse me,” You said. The Obliviator finished her task and turned to look at you and raised a brow in question. You bit your lower lip in nervousness, “Um, would it be alright if I asked some questions about Obliviate?”

The woman faced you fully, letting out a kind smile. “Of course. What would you want to know?”

You ran a hand through your hair, “I- is it possible for the people who were obliviated to regain their memories?” You asked, “How would you know that you’ve been obliviated before?”

The Obliviator placed a hand on her chin in thought, “Well,” she started, “For one, you wouldn’t know if it was casted on you as long as it was properly cast.” She informed you and thought some more, “As for regaining memories, there are various ways of breaking the Memory Charm. Torture, for one. I heard the Death Eaters are especially fond of that; also, if the charm that was cast isn’t as strong, a simple memory potion should do the trick. There are different levels of the charm, so it’s very important to have full focus when casting it. If it’s too strong it could cause brain damage, or even worse, death. But if it’s too weak, there would be a high chance of the person regaining their memories.”

You nodded, engraving her words into your head, maybe this was the answer. “Thank you.” The woman nodded in reply and walked away to obliviate yet another unconscious muggle. Remus stood up as you headed back to them.

“All right?” He questioned as he placed his hands on your arms. You looked up at him, his brown eyes glinting off worry. You gulped.

“As I’ll ever be.” You replied. Remus’ mouth formed a thin line on his face; he didn’t believe you. But he chose not to pry any further, which you were glad for. They informed you that the Auror was going to Apparate you guys to James’ house and explain the situation to his parents.

When you arrived, the door slammed open and Euphemia and Fleamont rushed out, the former in tears as she pulled all five of you in a bone-crushing hug. Fleamont and the Auror moved a few meters away to discuss everything that happened as Euphemia hounded the lot of you inside.

After warm baths and a change of clothes, all of you retreated to bed. You were by yourself in the guest room while the boys shared James’ room. You wished you could go to them right now; you didn’t want to be alone.

You stared at the ceiling of the room as you laid in bed that night. Sleep eluded you and your thoughts plagued you. Someone may have obliviated yours and the Slytherins’ memories about the fight at Hogwarts, you didn’t know who it was and why they did what they did, but you were bent on figuring it out.

Also now, Voldemort knew your ability and wanted you to join his army. You doubt this would be the last time you come face to face with the Dark Lord, war was brewing and even with the safety Hogwarts provided you as students, you would ultimately have to graduate and leave. You had to tell Dumbledore about all this, you decided and immediately stood up to write him a letter.

Quill in hand, you realized your hand still shook from the shock of earlier’ s attack. You took in a deep breath in hopes to help still your mind. Your penmanship wasn’t the best right now but it would have to do with your current state. It was cold and you missed the familiar warmth of the bespectacled boy’s hand in yours and the protection it provided. James was like a pillar that kept you grounded that time...

James... you set down your quill midway the letter, the color draining from your face as realization dawned. James knew. He knew you were a Legilimens now.

___________________

LAOB Taglist:

@serenefreakgeek , @rising-ice-phoenix , @lilmissimperfectlyperfect , @criminallygoodimagines , @lookingformarissa , @fantasticchaoticwho , @bestillmystuckyheart , @stubbornflowerchild , @julygivesafuck , @clockworkherondale , @nikki-sixx-is-daddy , @sarai-ibn-la-ahad

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misssophiachase · 3 years

Text

You Make My Heart Smile

So, happy (belated) birthday, Tina @tnapki Your edits make me smile (pardon the pun) and I wanted to thank you for that and everything you bring to the fandom.

I based it on your GORGEOUS EDIT

I also made it about food cause it’s SO you. On AO3 HERE

Also thanks to the gorgeous Kait @an-awesome-wavve for being amazing and my part brainstorm, part beta, part researcher and part undercover partner in crime.

Renowned Chef Klaus Mikaelson has a bad reputation until he meets food blogger Caroline Forbes and has no idea how to handle her or the unfamiliar feelings she evokes, especially that annoying ability to make him smile.

3 May - Alinea - 1723 N. Halsted St, Chicago IL - 3pm

“I’m not going to do some stupid interview, you know I have other, more important things to do, right?”

Klaus Mikaelson didn’t do interviews. He didn’t need to because his accomplishments spoke for themselves. He hadn’t slogged away in kitchens since he was twelve and worked his way through culinary school and some of the best restaurants to waste his time.

Being a world-renowned chef owning not one, but four, three-Michelin-starred restaurants across the globe meant he could do whatever the hell he wanted.

But yet here she was running his life.

Still.

“Like yell at me? I mean, you’ve been doing that since we were little so I guess it’s nothing I haven’t experienced before. ”

“I knew I should have never mixed business and family,” he snapped. “You always throw our childhood back in my face as an excuse to insult my life choices.”

“Because it’s too easy not to,” she pouted, flicking a stray, blonde lock over her shoulder. “And, while I am unfortunately related to your sorry ass, I am also your publicist and this interview is good for your career.”

“I don’t need publicity.”

“Correction, you do need publicity,” she argued, her fork now attacking the very veal he’d cooked with more fervour than needed.

“Easy on the product, little sister,” Klaus growled, his protectiveness for his art on full display.

“Oh, silly me I thought it was already dead,” she shot back, tartly. “And before you interrupted, I was going to say that, yes maybe you shouldn’t need publicity given your career achievements, but that was before you dropped an entree on the food critic’s lap from the Chicago Tribune, fired your sous chef in front of the entire restaurant and insulted Gordon Ramsey on national television.”

“Ramsey is a sell out, I stand by my comments,” he muttered. “The critic had it coming and, now you mention it, so too did that sorry excuse for a sous chef.”

“You realise people call you the angry chef, right?”

“Better than the naked chef I suppose.” He shrugged his shoulders indifferently. Klaus wasn’t in the business for gimmicks or to secure his own cooking program. He took his food seriously and there was nothing wrong with that.

“At least people like Jamie Oliver,” she replied, arching her eyebrows knowingly. “Anyway, there’s no point in arguing because she’ll be here in five minutes.”

“Please tell me you didn’t just schedule an interview without my permission?”

1717 N. Halsted St, 3:10pm

“What’s with the expression of impending doom, Care Bear?” He asked, lugging his camera equipment as they walked up the block toward Alinea.

“What have I told you about calling me that?”

“Not to do it but it’s too fun not to, Care Bear.” Given his general maturity level, Caroline decided it was a losing battle and she had more important things on her mind.

“Anyway, it’s not doom,” she muttered. “It’s just the overwhelming desire not to do this interview but given I don’t want to get fired and also pay my rent, there’s no other option.”

“Is someone afraid of the angry chef?”

“Oh, puh-lease, I’m not afraid. Although, I might not be able to bite my tongue if he decides to insult me like he did Gordon Ramsey.”

Caroline wasn’t one to judge but his indiscretions were well-known and well-documented. Although, chefs with egos weren’t an entirely new phenomenon to the industry or to Caroline given interviewing them was her job.

“You and I both know Ramsey deserved that dressing down, if anything Mikaelson earned my respect that day.” Caroline couldn’t argue with that.

Although this one was another kind of beast.

The effortlessly attractive kind.

For Caroline, this was an unsettling prospect. Until she reminded herself why she was here in the first place.

Caroline loved food. Sometimes, she thought, more than life itself.

So, when she became a food blogger after graduating with a journalism degree from Northwestern, it wasn’t a surprise. She was currently the senior blogger at popular food blog Delicious.

“You love food and writing about it,” Was Enzo reading her mind? “How about instead of focusing on the negative, remember that this will be your biggest interview yet. Think about all of the exposure this will garner.”

The upper echelons of Delicious had decided that an interview with Klaus Mikaelson would be a big scoop. Caroline was all for interviewing chefs about their food and the passion behind it but she knew her editor wanted something less about his craft and more about his bad boy reputation.

“Yes, but I want to write about food, not produce tabloid fodder.”

“Just think, once you do this then maybe you’ll have enough of a following to start your own blog and write what you want and not what someone tells you to do.”

“Mmmm, you do have a point.”

“Of course I do because Enzo knows everything. Also, take me with you because you’d be lost without me, sweetcheeks.”

“Third person, huh? That ego of yours knows no bounds, Lorenzo.”

“You know it, Care Bear,” he joked, flashing his most dazzling smile. “Well, looks like we’re here.”

“Looks like it,” she murmured, noting the intimidating sign overhead and wondering what she’d gotten herself into. “Here goes nothing.”

3:15pm

“Caroline Forbes?”

“You must be Rebekah and this is my photographer Lorenzo St John.”

Klaus, who’d been throwing a temper tantrum not one minute ago, found himself looking up into the blue eyes of one Caroline Forbes. Suddenly, all of the white noise of the moment fell away and it was just the two of them in the room together and the blonde in question was looking at him expectantly.

It was paralysing.

But good paralysing he decided.

“Nik?” Rebekah questioned. Now they were both looking at him. Had he zoned out and not realised it? Well, if so, this was all kinds of embarrassing. “Caroline is the senior blogger for Delicious and she’s here for that interview, you know the one we talked about earlier?”

Yeah, ten minutes earlier, he thought to himself doing everything he could not to bite back in front of the new arrival.

“It’s nice to meet you Mr Mikaelson, I have to say I’m a big fan of your…”

“Look, it’s not going to be possible, I have to prep for dinner service,” he lied, although regretted it immediately when he noticed her expression. Klaus wasn’t used to being nice, it wasn’t in his DNA and usually it didn’t bother him.

Until now.

Klaus decided to blame it on the foreign feelings she was causing. As soon as he got some distance between them it would be fine, especially that vanilla scent he couldn’t ignore given it was infiltrating his first line of defence.

Klaus liked women, in fact he slept with many when his busy schedule permitted, but that was sex and nothing else. Just the way he liked it, easy and unemotional.

“Why don’t we multitask then? I’m happy to help. ” Her voice was light and melodic. Klaus was hoping it wasn’t going to sound so enticing. He also wasn’t expecting that response. “I worked in a restaurant kitchen for years, I can do dishes, polish cutlery and peel a mean potato and an onion, well almost without crying.”

Why was he buoyed by that ridiculous statement and increasingly trying not to flash her a goofy smile?

Klaus didn’t smile. He just didn’t. Ever.

This wasn’t how he saw his day going at all. He was going to kill Rebekah. Before he could reply, the current subject of his ire spoke.

“That sounds like a fantastic idea,” she grinned. “How about Lorenzo and I make ourselves scarce then?”

“It’s actually Enzo, darling, you sound a bit too much like my mother and my oppressive boss Care Bear here.”

Klaus hadn’t even realised there was someone else in the room up until this point but it was clear Caroline wasn’t too impressed by his nickname or the oppressive part. Maybe they had more in common than he thought?

Care Bear. Klaus thought it was adorable. Then he could feel it, that idiotic urge to smile again.

Before he could object again, Rebekah had made a quick exit with the photographer and she was just standing there. Klaus could feel the awkward tension between them and knowing he’d caused it wasn’t helping matters. But he didn’t know any other way to act.

Then the words he’d struggled with just tumbled out.

“How do you feel about fish?”

Not the most suave topic or question but this was his ‘uncomfort’ zone.

“Depends on the context.”

“The context?”

“I mean, if you think I can clean, fillet and debone a fish, you’ve obviously overestimated my cooking talents.”

Klaus had to practically eat the smile that was threatening to appear. Again.

“Everyone has to start somewhere and get their hands a bit dirty, otherwise what’s the point?” He advised. “But, if you don’t want to then…”

“Oh, I never back away from a challenge, chef,” she promised.

Again, the pesky smile was hovering just beneath the surface.

Leading her towards the kitchen, Klaus told himself that preparing a fish was definitely going to keep his emotions at bay and also block out that perfume which was throwing him off balance.

4:45pm

“Why do I feel like this was a ploy to distract me from my interview?” Caroline asked, dipping the fish into egg wash and then flour as instructed by her cooking mentor for the day..

This was not how she saw her day going. It was surreal to say the least. This guy was supposed to be an ogre but Caroline was realising he was something else entirely.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shot back. “But you filleted that fish like a professional, maybe you’ve missed your true calling?”

“I suppose I had a semi-good teacher,” she admitted wryly.

“Wow, tell me what you really think, Forbes.”

Caroline was trying not to to get too caught up in the moment but Klaus Mikaelson had challenged every judgment she’d ever harboured about the temperamental chef. He’d been unusually kind and patient.

The one thing she’d noticed was that his overall demeanour didn’t match his expression.

He didn’t smile.

Not once.

A few times, Caroline could swear it was close or maybe she was just imagining it?

“So, why do you like food?” It was a question she wasn’t expecting. Especially seeing as she was the interviewer and him her subject.

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be asking you?” He was silent for a moment, almost like he was contemplating it. “But I get the impression you don’t like that question much?”

“I’d much prefer to hear your story first, call it a warm-up.” Clearly he was nervous and Caroline was happy to oblige if it helped.

“My grandmother,” she smiled knowingly, visions of her nana filling her head. “When I was younger I’d go to her house most weekends and we’d cook together. She could make anything and everything. She died last year and it’s been tough without her but at least I still have those memories.”

Caroline didn’t mean to get personal, especially with the so-called “angry chef” but for some reason she felt nothing but comfort in his presence, even if he didn’t smile.

“What was her specialty?”

“Banana cream cheesecake,” she smiled, the taste of it rushing back in all its delicious glory.

“Hard to beat,” he murmured. “Have you ever eaten a Bananas Foster? My restaurant in New Orleans does a modern version over flame. According to my maitre’d there’ve apparently been a few proposals over dessert.”

“Over your dessert?”

“Someone sounds dubious. Let’s just say it’s fireworks but without the danger. Well, unless the tablecloth is accidentally set on fire but the fire department down there are pretty good first responders I understand.”

“I just didn’t take you for the romantic dessert type.”

“I suppose there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me then.”

“So, why do you like food then?”

“Well, of course I like food, I wouldn’t be a chef otherwise,” he shared, moving swiftly in behind her and taking the fillets from her hand and placing them in the hot pan, Caroline was trying not to react to his touch or that welcoming and heady mixture of sandalwood, spices and soap . “But one interview isn’t going to even begin to answer that question.”

He had a point and Caroline knew it. How could you sum up what food meant to you in one interview?

“So, what exactly are you trying to say? I do have a deadline to meet.”

“How about we schedule a follow-up interview tomorrow morning? Dinner service is imminent and if you stay I’m going to have to ask you to do more than fillet a fish. My pastry chef Lucien is also very needy, requires constant gratification, and you don’t want to be on the receiving end of that.”

“Not gonna lie I’m intrigued and by that I’m talking about Lucien. Did you insult his choux pastry or something?”

“Not if I want my patrons to eat dessert this century. But, if you insist on staying, there’s a whole pile of onions there with your name on it and we can call it even.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He raised his left eyebrow by way of response. Caroline was trying to ignore just how good he looked, even if there was no smile forthcoming.

“Fine,” she conceded. “Tomorrow morning but that’s it otherwise my editor might fire me.”

“Great, let’s make it 10:30, you can poach an egg, right? And I also expect extra crispy bacon.”

Caroline knew she was possibly in trouble and not because he was tasking her with cooking. Enzo would also parrot that particular concern but she couldn’t help herself.

Today was probably the best day she’d had in a long time and she didn’t want it to end. She told herself that she’d return tomorrow and get her interview, that’s all she wanted from him, right?

4 May - Alinea - 1723 N. Halsted St, Chicago IL - 11am

Klaus Mikaelson was in uncharted territory.

That’s what scared him the most.

Caroline Forbes was seated across from him at his best, window table in jeans and a cream sweater, her plate empty and a very full but satisfied look on her face. Klaus decided to add that to his favourite expressions file. It was fast filling up and he’d only known her for 20 hours.

He wasn’t this guy.

At all.

But she’d consumed his thoughts since their first meeting and all night through dinner service and beyond. He’d barely slept, but it wasn’t a bad thing. He’d been looking forward to seeing her as soon as she left.

The only problem? Not smiling because it was that difficult when she was in his presence. He had his reasons of course.

“So, why do you love food? And no arguments given I poached a mean egg and also let you have a reprieve yesterday.”

“The bacon could use some work, just saying.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to cook itself yourself, Mikaelson. Are you always such a critic? Last time I checked that was my job. Also enough with the distractions. So?”

“My mum,” he admitted quietly, even if it took a minute or so to verbalise. For some reason her opening up about her grandmother had filled him with courage. He didn’t do feelings or talk about them for that matter. “She cooked with me practically from birth until she got too sick last year.”

Those last words wobbled, it was unfortunate as it was expected. He’d struggled for a long time and losing his mother had been difficult.

“What was her specialty?” Klaus recognised the question he’d asked himself yesterday, but the fact her hand squeezed his at the same time filled him with the confidence and warmth he needed.

“Rosemary braised lamb shanks, it was her favourite protein. I’ve tried to pay homage on all my menus since.”

‘So, that explains the Saddle of Elysian Fields Farm Lamb with Babaganoush, Romano Beans and Harissa Jus on your menu then?”

“You’ve done your homework clearly?”

“That and the fact it’s the first time I’ve seen you smile, and I have to say it’s really nice.”

Klaus didn’t even realise he’d let it slip but suddenly it didn’t matter anymore. He didn’t want to hide it, not with her.

“She used to tell me to smile all the time because I was too serious, you could say it’s something I’ve battled with ever since she passed.”

“All the more reason to smile, even just to introduce those dimples to the general public. Has anyone ever told you they should come with a warning?”

“No, but more than happy to discuss further.”

“If only, but I have to get going.” Klaus felt almost deflated that she was leaving as quickly as she’d arrived. Maybe he’d shared too much. “Deadlines and all that. But if you could just consult the email I sent confirming the details of our interview that would be great.”

Klaus felt disillusioned, he’d opened himself up to someone and she was running away. She was out the door before he could even move from his seat. Checking his emails was the last thing he felt like doing, but his hand went to work on his cell checking it anyway and dreadfully waiting for its contents.

“As of three minutes ago, I no longer working for Delicious. It wanted a story I wasn’t prepared to write. I like your smile and dimples too much and I also want a Bananas Foster.”

His chest constricted as he read each word and his grin was unmistakable. It didn’t take long for him to reply.

“You make my heart smile.”

Tabloids would report months later that famed food blogger Caroline Forbes married famed chef Klaus Mikaelson in rural England after proposing over a dessert of Bananas Foster in New Orleans.

#you make my heart smile #happy birthday #tnapki #klaroline fanfiction #misssophiachase

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ladyvader23 · 4 years

Text

Darth Vader, Master Hairstylist

This was inspired by @scuddington ‘s post HERE. I absolutely love Scud’s art, and this one just instantly inspired me!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time Vader learned how important hair was to little children was the day Miss Laena took PTO in the morning for an important doctors appointment.

He figured he had this. It was just one morning. No big deal. The only difference was that this morning, he’d be the one getting the kids ready for school. That wasn’t hard. He was Darth Vader, Sith, destroyer of Jedi and Rebels alike, Commander of the Imperial Navy! He could handle school.

He scheduled his own meetings around the conflict, he’d warned the twins repeatedly that he needed them to cooperate, he’d made sure the night before that all was prepared. Bags, lunches, homework.

Too easy. Maybe he’d reconsider Miss Laena’s salary.

And the morning did begin smoothly. Until Leia came running to him with a brush in her hand.

“I gotta be pretty daddy!” She shoved the brush towards him. “Do my hair!”

Vader froze. He...knew nothing about hair. He knew his wife had been excellent at it. When had she begun to be interested in how she did her hair? He tried to think back, but he couldn’t remember a single time he’d seen her in public without perfectly styled tresses.

“You are a child. You do not need me to do your hair. Just brush it.”

That of course, offended Leia. She pouted and glared. “I’m a big girl daddy, and big girls have pretty hair!”

She literally forced the brush into his hand.

Well. He’d mastered the Force. How hard could hair be?

Famous last words.

First, he was apparently not gentle enough. He tried to comb the tangles that she’d acquired overnight, and each time he did she began screaming “OW!” and crying. Horrified, he decided to instead hide the tangles and figure them out later. He pulled her hair into what resembled a ponytail and stepped back. “There. Now you will be late for school. Let us leave.”

The hair wasn’t...exactly like it should be. It was crooked, and he wasn’t sure it was tight enough to stay in, but he didn’t want to hurt her further. And he was pretty sure she didn’t want him to try again, because she didn’t argue.

He forgot about the incident shortly after the kids were dropped off. Miss Laena came back shortly before the end of school. He was in their home’s personal conference room, doing assignments from home, when he heard the front door open and the telltale sound of children running through the home.

Miss Laena will take care of it. He thought, focusing back on his work…

Until he realized Leia was crying.

He hated it when she cried. Luke, he could deal with. But Leia? Absolutely not.

Shoving the datapad aside, he went to investigate.

“I’m ugly!” She was wailing when he entered the kitchen. Mis Laena was trying to comb Leia’s hair and having a hard time with it. “I’m ugly!!!”

“Who told you a ridiculous lie like that?!” Vader thundered. Leia was the image of his beloved wife. Both of them were more beautiful than all the stars of the galaxy.

But to his surprise, Leia wailed harder. “Everyone! My hair was ugly!!!”

“Your hair does not reflect how beautiful you are. Hair changes daily.”

Miss Laena winced. “Lord Vader...many children want to feel pretty when they go see their friends at school.”

“Leia is beautiful already. I do not see what the problem is.”

“...She is beautiful, but she may not feel that way when she doesn’t like her hair...and other kids might say something if it looks...different.”

“She is five.”

“Even five year olds want to feel pretty.”

Vader thought it was silly. Leia could have no hair and he’d find her just as perfect as she was with it. But judging on Leia’s reaction, she very much cared about how her hair looked.

It was something her mother should have done. Had she lived, he had no doubt Leia would never have a bad day...or even Luke for that matter (sometimes that boy needed to run a comb through his hair, if Vader was being honest with himself).

But Padme...was not there. And it was his fault for that.

So it was up to him to fix it.

First, he ordered practice manikin heads, the kind hairdressers used to practice. Then, he found online tutorials on the holonet. He watched them carefully, paying close attention to the stylists finger and brush movements. It was not unlike studying lightsaber technique. Both had a certain art to it.

He just needed to master it.

The first many attempts didn’t work as planned. Part of it was due to his cybernetics. They were...not made for the delicacy it took to style hair. The first few manikin heads ended up either with hair ripped out, or he’d grow so frustrated when he couldn’t get a braid right, that he’d throw the manakin off the balcony, where it fell into the lower levels of Coruscant below.

But he was determined. He would not fail in this task. He would not be so reliant on Miss Laena that he would ruin his daughter's day again like that.

He would be the master hairstylist.

It took months (and countless manikin heads) to get things to where he felt he could confidently and safely try working on Leia’s hair.

One morning, before school, he interrupted Miss Laena as she was about to help Leia get ready for school. “I have no need of your services when it comes to Leia.” He informed her confidently. “I will handle it from here.”

He did not miss the concern that flashed through the other woman, but she wisely did not say anything. “As you wish, My Lord.”

He entered Leia’s room. She was already dressed, though her hair, thankfully, was still a mess. “Where’s Miss Laena?” She asked, frowning when he was the only one there.

“I am here to fix your hair problem.” He announced confidently, spotting the brush and summoning it to his hand.

Leia did not hide her nervousness. “No, that’s okay daddy, I...I can have ugly hair today.”

“No. You will sit down and allow me to help you.”

“No--”

“If you do not let me help you, I will ground you from your dolls.” It was an unfair threat and he knew it...but he was a Sith. He’d spent an unsithly amount of time mastering the ways of the hairdresser. He was not about to let Leia stop him now.

Leia pouted, but sat down. “Be nice to my hair, daddy.” She warned as he approached, and he felt her genuine fear.

Carefully, he placed a hand on top of her head and smoothed her hair down in what he hoped was a soothing gesture...and began.

He first worked out the tangles. Carefully, in a way he knew wouldn’t hurt her. Once all the tangles were gone, he began to braid.

The trick, he found, was not to completely rely on his metal fingers. Doing so would result in failure. The trick was to use the Force for anything that was too delicate and precarious for his clumsy hands. With a mixture of the Force and his own now well-practiced hands, he managed to braid her hair into a crown.

He stepped back, satisfied. “You look like a princess.” He told her, and he meant it. It was hair that would make any royal princess jealous. He was fairly certain that Padme would have been quite proud of him had she seen it.

Leia looked in the mirror...and smiled. “Wow, daddy! You got good!”

“For you, my princess...though don’t tell anyone I did it.”

Having redeemed himself, he could have stopped there. He’d mastered enough to impress any five year old.

But he didn’t stop there.

Leia soon decided that she’d rather have him do her hair than Miss Laena (something he was secretly pleased about, though he’d never admit it). As she grew, so too did her tastes in hair. Occasionally, she’d be interested in a style he didn’t know how to do. But if she showed him what she wanted, he’d spend what little off time he had trying to figure it out. Once he’d mastered it, he’d try it out on her. Usually he was successful.

Soon, he began to savor the moments when it was just him and her. She’d sit on the chair, swinging her legs happily while he worked on her hair. Sometimes it felt like they didn’t share as many interests, but when he did her hair, it seemed like it was their own “thing.” It was unsithly, and his Master would absolutely have a heart attack if he ever found out, but he didn’t care.

Soon though, as Leia grew into a teenager, she began to need him less and less. But instead, their time together was replaced by him teaching her how to do her own hair. He’d always dreamed of teaching his children the ways of the Force, but with Sidious suspicious of that ever happening, he knew this would probably be the closest thing he could get for Leia.

For now.

One day, as Leia finished braiding her hair so that it looked like a blooming flower for a Imperial youth party, she paused. “You know. I’ve never told anyone you learned how to do hair.” She said.

“That is wise.” He tried not to think of what the media would say if they ever found out Darth Vader knew almost as much about hair as any professional hairstylist.

“Why? I mean. You’re...you.”

He looked at her for a long moment. She’d grown to be so beautiful, exactly like her mother. And he decided to be honest.

“Because your mother was not here to do it for you.” He replied. “I did not want you to miss out on that experience.”

Leia turned, taking him in for a moment. Then, with a smile, she reached out and gave him a rare hug.

He...allowed it. This time.

“Thanks dad.” She said. “You’re the best. I don’t care what anyone else says.”

He didn’t understand how him being good at hair made him the best…

But he’d accept it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I accept PROMPTS for this or any SW AU!

#Darth Vader #dad vader series #Dad vader #leia organa #little leia #my writing #sometimes he makes a good dad decision #fanfic #star wars fanfic #star wars

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johns-prince · 3 years

Note

TW for eating disorders, etc.

John OP here. Thanks for the beautifully written answer. I appreciate the honesty and in fact, you make very good points. I doubt I'd be the best influence on someone like John when it came to body image because we seem too alike in that department. I was a teenager in the size zero hysteria of the early 00s and this probably shaped my sense of aesthetics. I'm more relaxed about that now but my eye still responds to a certain look on people. I can't help it. I had my own "Fat Beatle" episode and I could tell how it all changed when I shed the weight. It didn't really matter how or whether I was miserable, I just looked the "right" way and people would let me know. It's possible I projected it all on poor John. But I know he'd relate to that in many levels.

I'm not a fan of the "rat man" thing either. I know people mean well and I try to look at it with humor but it does bother me. Mostly because the stans of the other boys are very positive about them and I'd like that for John too. His looks were a major part of his struggle so I know he'd be crushed watching everyone praising his mates (especially Paul) while he gets to be the fucking rat, you know? As I have mentioned before, you can feel it even on fanfiction. Even the writers who seem more John inclined will go on for pages about how pretty Paul (which he is, of course) and how lucky John was to be with him. Like it was a favor or something. That when the stories don't keep pushing that tired trope about Crazy John crushing on pretty but Immovable Sexuality Paul. That's not really my cup of tea tbh.

In the end I'm just happy to start this discussion

with intelligent people who will bring their opinions to the table respectfully. I hope my previous comment didn't trigger anyone or came across as worse than I hoped. If that was the case, I'd like to apologize, it really wasn't my intention.

Darling, don't fret. You've really nothing to be sorry about. One reason why I relate to John is because I have issues with bulimia to this day, and can experience hardcore body dysmorphia at the worst of times dues to my insecure and self hatred towards my body. I get it.

I remember that, vaguely at least, the whole size zero thing. I do, that was such a strange phenomenon, because it takes a certain body type to fit it naturally, or... Y'know, starving yourself.

Anyway, I think we all sort of project on our favorite boy, and we all sort of see ourselves in them too. You wouldn't be the first, and certainly won't be the last.

Yeah, I completely understand how you feel. Maybe I'm just overreacting, maybe I don't have a sense of humor, but I'm inclined to feel protective over John, and I feel like if you know about John's insecurities and struggles with himself in regards to his physical appearance, why... Would you yourself find it a silly and relatively harmless thing to apparently joke about calling him things like that, idk like I said I don't see anyone else really making such snide comments and quips when it comes to the other three. So at what time did the bandom just agree it was an acceptable thing to do towards John?

Whatever, people can do and say what they like y'know free country an' all, but I don't have to approve of it or like it.

Real talk, I low-key I am guilty of writing in that way but I primarily do it as if John feels that way, or thinks it, or feels it. Due to his insecurity and self doubt, the fear that he'll always be abandoned by those he holds dear and loves, the fear that it's all just too good to be true for him-- that's why I ever write a scene when it comes to Paul, that it's just John's way of thinking, not seeing his own worth, and ends up sort of idolizing those individuals (listen John once compared Paul to a religion that he knew/had so I feel like he idolized and saw Paul in this 'oh God he's too perfect oh no' sort of light, which both terrified and fed into the 'paul's going to leave me one day he'll figure it out that he doesn't need me I'm not enough' sort of mindset too) he just had a bit of a habit doing that to those he held intimately dear, until... They let him down or proved his insecurities and doubts right, that in the end they all leave him and don't actually love him. It's a cruel self fulfilling prophecy in a sense, since John, either consciously or subconsciously, put relationships and people through tests to see if they could withstand him and his antics, if they'd stay loyal, if they'd still love him. Sometimes he'd just push people away, and then feel like they just up and abandoned him...

I'm rambling. Anyway the point, your point, still stands! Their relationship shouldn't be written as one doing the other a favor for liking them and being with them! Maybe in reality people did think Paul was doing not only John a favor for being his partner but also a favor to everyone else, because John had Paul and Paul could be seen as the one handling John's lead. It's kind of like how some peer at John's art school thought Cynthia had done them all a favor for taking John.

I don't like that. John isn't some problem to be passed onto someone who must then bear the burden of him. That's just... Wrong. And I think both Cynthia and Paul would think so too. John could be challenging but geez, it shouldn't be made out like anyone who loved John and wanted to be around him and be with him was just some sort of favor to the world or to him.

If anything John and Paul were both extremely lucky to have found each other-- it's not exactly common for soulmates to find each other, especially at such a young age? Please. Most of us will never, which is common.

Like the crushing went both ways lol if anything it's Paul who crushed first-- while John never mentioned it, Paul had brought up how he'd noticed John long before meeting him at the Fete. They had even briefly talked at a newspaper shop which Paul had been working at. He'd see John on the streets, he'd notice him riding on the top deck of buses, or in line at the fish and chips-- he'd try and steal glances at John when he'd notice him on the same bus! Paul was instantly drawn to this tough looking teddy with big sideboards and greased hair and the drainies and a roguish air about him. He was like a schoolgirl with a crush, and he didn't even know this boy. Yet.

If anything it's Paul who noticed John first, and started crushing on John first. Then they finally were introduced at the local Fete, and that was it for both of them.

And let's be real John might've been a bit crazy, but Paul loved him, loved his touch of crazy. And Paul might be immoveable heterosexuality, but that goes straight out the window when it comes to John, and only John it appears.

So yeah, I get where you're coming from, and your grievances and perspective.

I'm glad you decided to share it with me! Sorry about my rambling (• ▽ •;)

#questionsquestionsquestions #beatles discussion/discourse #mclennon #i love conversations like this it's been awhile lol #also who intelligent people cause i ain't one of them #im just glad to be here y'all lol

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aflyingcontradiction · 3 years

Text

The Magnus Archives Relisten: Episode 126 - Sculptor's Tool

Then Rosa made an off-colour joke about life drawing and getting – hands-on, and I forgot about it, but I still ended up going to the class. - Statement of Debra Madaki

I kinda like Rosa. I know nothing about Rosa, except she makes low-brow puns, but I kinda like Rosa.

Now, I’m not one to judge on appearances; I was the one who insisted Desmond still come to church after his operation

So, the statement giver is clearly one of those people who don't notice that they come across as giant fuck-off arseholes specifically when they explain how they're totally not giant fuck-off arseholes. Why, dearest Debra, the FUCK, are you acting like - erm - gracefully "allowing" someone to remain in the community even though they have - gasp - unseemly surgical scars shows how UNjudgmental you are.

It sort of – almost started out like a fish. But it just kept going and going, looping back and into itself, as if it was swimming through its own body. After a half hour, I had almost completely forgotten my own work, instead just staring at this serpentine structure that the dreadful man was building.

This may be the description in MAG that comes closest to making me feel how mesmerising the Spiral can be. Yeah, I'd be staring and forgetting my own work, too!

I know, it was an amateur class, and he was under no obligation to do exactly the work as instructed, but Ray was very clear with the rest of us that we were doing things in a specific order for a reason, and it was just a bit frustrating to see him nodding along to that awful man flagrantly disregarding what we were meant to be doing.

Okay, it's a bad sign when you're in a room with a being who literally feeds off people's fears and you come across as the worse person. MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS, DEBRA!

It made a noise that sounded like a scream heard through water and stretched out towards my mouth, which I’ll admit was hanging open in horror. If I hadn’t screamed and fallen backwards, I am sure the thing would have dived down my throat.

Oh yikes. There are some things you really don't want to accidentally swallow. Flies. Spiders. Creations of pure terror.

I was obviously taken aback at what had to be a really significant scheduling issue, but having a quick check of the timetable of classes, it looked very much like sculpting had always been on a Thursday, which didn’t make much sense to me, standing there in my dancing shoes and feeling like a fool.

Okay, I know this is a silly thing to focus on, but I feel that being told "No, you're wrong about your schedule, this has always been this way" would be genuinely fucking unsettling, especially when you're a very well-organised person, like Debra seems to be, and definitely wouldn't just randomly forget what day of the week a class was on. Like, I think I may have genuinely had nightmares with similar themes.

There was no sign of Mary. They still haven’t found her.

This is one of those "few words to reveal a deeper, surprising horror" moments that I love so much.

He coughed gently, and, well, I suppose it would have been rude not to look.

This is a very relatable thought process! So is Debra's later thing about "I would've run but that seemed rude." The number of times I've stayed in uncomfortable and occasionally genuinely frightening situations because I didn't want to come across as rude...

A door. “Perfect!” Gabriel told me. “It looks just like him!” I asked him if it was supposed to be a face and he told me yes. It was a good friend of his. I asked him who and he said they didn’t have a name. I told him everyone has a name, and he said his friend wasn’t like us, that having a name would only confuse them.

Okay, I'm aware we're talking about horrors beyond human comprehension here, but ... the Distortion has a friend! And that friend makes art for them! How sweet!

I got a letter, a week ago. It was from Gabriel. It said that he had found a new job, and he’d love it if I came up to assist him again. He’s working in a place called Sannikov Land. I looked it up. It doesn’t exist. And it sounds cold. I don’t think I should go. I’m not going to go.

Okay, I know it's revealed that in the end she DIDN'T go to Sannikov Land but my first reaction to this was definitely "Oh, she is SO going to go".

A Great Twisting, that Gertrude stopped at the cost of a single life. Hm... I thought moving away from my humanity would have made that seem more acceptable. That sort of sacrifice… But it just makes me sad. I remembered Gertrude’s notebook. We found it alongside the plastic explosives, but it rather got lost amongst the business of… saving the world at the cost of two lives - Jon

... damn. Jon seriously needs a hug. He's genuinely TRYING to be a good person, he's just not getting a lot of choice in the matter.

I don’t know, however, whether that was because she decided not to… or because shortly after this statement was given, they found the body of one Mary Randall in her basement, and she has spent the last nine years in Eastwood Park prison, where she remains to this day.

Now this was a genuinely surprising twist! Gave me shivers.

Martin: Really? I mean, it’s just admin. I-it’s not exactly thrilling listening.

I kind of love that Martin actually talks to the tape recorders as if they were human beings. It's cute. I mean, it's also a sign he really needs someone to fucking talk to because he is incredibly isolated thanks to Peter Fucking Lukas but hey, it's still kinda cute.

Martin: When all this is over, I’m telling him everything, with or without your permission. Peter Lukas: Martin, when it’s over, you won’t want to.

God, I want to punch Peter Lukas in his smug, condescending face so badly sometimes.

My impression of this episode

This isn't one of those episodes that stuck with me after listening, but the statement actually is delightfully unsettling and really well-written. It's actually one of the better statements for presenting the Spiral in its full glory, I think. And then that's immediately followed by a strong segment of Jon brooding subtly about morality and an even stronger segment of Peter and Martin being a) cryptic and b) infuriating that just left me going "I WANT TO KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON. ALSO I WANT TO KICK PETER LUKAS'S ASS." I'm ... rather protective of Martin.

#tma relisten #the magnus archives

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quickspinner · 4 years

Text

Killer Combo Ch 7 - The Final Showdown

I sincerely apologize to everyone who prefers short chapters, as this is another really long one. Pace yourselves as necessary, and thank you so much for persevering to the end with me. I'm so grateful for everyone who has read and liked or reblogged or replied, and I hope though the journey is uh, long, you will find it satisfying. You can search *** for the scene breaks if you need to stop and come back.

Kagami, predictably, was not happy when Marinette returned alone, but Juleka’s vindictive smirk when she heard what her brother was doing was enough to convince Kagami to delay any plans of vengeance she might have been making. “I hope he gives that bitch the earful she deserves,” Juleka muttered darkly, and then snorted. “But knowing Luka, he won’t. He’ll be all gentle and patient and she’ll keep arguing for way longer than he should let her before she realizes she might as well be talking to a brick wall.”

“You don’t think,” Marinette began, and then stopped, reaching up to smooth her hair self-consciously, shifting her weight on her feet and feeling like a fool as several pairs of knowing eyes turned her way.

Juleka arched an eyebrow, but her smile was sympathetic. “I definitely don’t think,” she said warmly, reaching out to squeeze Marinette’s shoulder in a move that reminded her strongly of Luka. “Luka’s very perceptive and empathetic. It makes him too gentle sometimes, but he’s no pushover. She might think she has a chance, but he’s been over her for a long time. Even if he hadn’t... met anybody , she wouldn’t get anywhere with him.” She grabbed Marinette’s hand and pulled her towards the dance floor, reaching out her other hand to snag Rose on her way. “Now enough about my stupid brother, we only have like an hour of party left, let’s go have fun.”

Marinette giggled, grabbing Kagami’s arm and pulling her along.

Kagami had offered to let her stay overnight at the mansion, but Marinette had declined in favor of a ride home. She crept into her room as quietly as she could, sent her parents a text to let them know she was home just in case one of them woke up and worried, and went to wash her makeup off and get ready for bed.

Her phone beeped just as she was drying off her face, and she picked it up to find a text from Luka. Just letting you know I made it home. Sorry for leaving so suddenly.

Marinette sighed, and smiled slightly as she answered him. It’s okay, I understand. Did you get everything worked out in the end? She chewed her lip as she sent the message, but she needed to know, and there really wasn’t any good way to ask the question. She finished up with her moisturizer and climbed the stairs up to her bed, wincing at the ache in her feet.

She sat cross-legged on her bed to read his reply. As much as it can be. She’s not happy, but making her happy isn’t my job anymore. She got the message, finally, and that’s all that matters to me.

Before she’d even finished reading that one, another message came in.

I know it’s really late and I’ll understand if you don’t want to, but I’d really like to hear your voice one more time. Is it okay if I call?

Marinette really wanted to hear his voice too. Before she could second-guess herself too much, she hit the call button.

He picked up immediately. “Hey,” he said softly, voice a little rough and tired-sounding but still enough to make her feel warm and remember the soft touch of his lips against hers.

“Hi,” she said shyly, suddenly breathless.

“Marinette,” he sighed, and she had to smile at the way he said her name, like he was relieved and happy and exhausted all at once. “I just wanted to say I am so, so sorry about how everything went down tonight, and also...thank you. I think I got some closure tonight that I really needed, and it was really thanks to you and your friends, and...and I’m just incredibly grateful. And I totally owe you a rain check on the party date because I was having a great time until—” he sighed again. “All that other stuff. Your friends are pretty cool.”

“Yeah,” Marinette smiled, picking at the hem of her pants. “They really are. We’ve had our ups and downs, but the ones that have stuck around, they’re really amazing.” She sighed slightly through her nose, brow furrowing in annoyance. “And I’m really sorry you haven’t had the same experience.”

“Well,” Luka said, and the smile in his voice made her smile too, “I got a taste of it tonight. It’s nice to know friendships like that really exist. I mean, I know they do, I’ve had some...still have some, even if they’re far away, but...okay, I’m rambling and I’m keeping you awake and you’re probably just as tired as I am, but I just, um...I wanted to…” He took a deep breath, and went on a little too quickly, “When I kissed you tonight, I wasn’t, I didn’t do anything right and I was kind of overwhelmed and not thinking clearly, but I want you to know I really—”

“Wait,” Marinette said quickly, her heart suddenly pounding. “Wait. I think...Luka, if it’s okay with you, I think I’d rather talk about this in person. Maybe when we’re both a little clearer headed than we are right now?”

“Yeah,” Luka said slowly. “Yeah, okay, I guess that makes sense. So...when can I see you in person?”

Marinette winced, turning and pulling down her schedule. “I have so much to do this week,” she nearly moaned, fisting a hand in her hair and tugging hard.

“Hey,” he said, and something in his voice made Marinette cringe. “It’s okay.”

“No, I want to, I promise I’m not blowing you off, I really want to talk about this with you, it’s just—of course everything always has to happen at once and…ugh, timing. ” Marinette chewed her lip, scanning across the week, trying to find some time. Surely she could spare him ten minutes somewhere...but was the conversation they needed to have something that she really could rush? What was she even doing, why didn’t she just let him say what he wanted to say, why was she...she was…

Hesitating. Why was she hesitating? Marinette chewed her lip and blew out a frustrated breath, forgetting that Luka was still on the phone. She jumped when he spoke again.

“Marinette,” Luka said, his tone gentle, and she made a distracted noise of acknowledgement. “Listen. Don’t sweat it. I know you have your presentation this week and the tournament, right? If you’re busy and you need some space, that’s fine. Don’t worry about it. We can settle this afterwards. I’m not going anywhere. Well. Not until we talk, at least.”

Marinette’s eyes landed on the weekend, colored in red and outlined in black. “The tournament,” she said softly. “The championship. We could...we could talk there? Maybe after?”

Luka was silent for a moment, and Marinette heard him take a deep breath. “Is that the best time?” he said cautiously. “Do we really want to have that on our minds?”

“You know what,” Marinette said, beginning to smile. “I think it’s the perfect time. It’s where we met, afterall.”

“Well,” Luka said, and she could tell he was smiling too. “There is a certain poetry to that.”

“Okay,” Marinette said, her smile growing into a grin. “After I’m done kicking your ass in the finals, then.”

“Oh, brave words from the lady with the forty percent win rate against me,” he laughed, and Marinette made a face.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Max,” she accused.

“Max is a fun guy,” Luka chuckled. “Not as much fun as you, but you know, he has his moments.”

Why was she so pleased at that, that he preferred her company over Max, ugh she was pathetic. She covered a giggle anyway, but it turned into a yawn.

“I’ll let you go to sleep,” Luka said, amusement clear in his voice. “Good luck this week, Marinette, and I’ll see you this weekend and...we’ll talk.”

“Yes,” Marinette nodded decisively, though he couldn’t see her. “We will.”

***

Two days later and elbow deep in unfinished clothes that were supposed to be runway ready in less than twenty-four hours, Marinette was actually feeling good about her decision to defer her talk with Luka.

Not everyone agreed, however.

“ Girl ,” Alya screeched from Marinette’s floor, where she was hammering rivets into a jacket. Max winced from where he was sitting at Marinette’s desk, pliers in his hand and a spool of jewelry wire next to him. “Why did you do that?”

Marinette sighed, and bit her lip. “Because—”

“Because what? ” Alya demanded.

“Because I need to be the one to say it,” Marinette sighed, as she rearranged the fabric on her sewing machine. “It’s just...it’s something I need to do, Alya. I don’t expect you to understand.”

“Oh I understand,” Alya sighed. “I just think it’s silly. You could be making out right now if you’d just let him say his piece.”

“First of all,” Marinette grumbled. “You don’t know that, you’re making assumptions. He could have been about to say he really values my friendship and he doesn’t want anything to change. Second, I have way too much to do this week. I wouldn’t have time for making out even if I did have a hot new boyfriend to do it with. Third, I just...I told you, I need to do it. I need to know that I can put myself out there and tell a boy I like him and not just...let it happen to me.”

“You must have done that lots of times, Marinette, what about all those guys you made out with that last year of high school?”

Marinette rolled her eyes, glancing at Max with a blush, though he was studiously ignoring the conversation, focused on the task in front of him. “It’s not even close to being the same thing.” She felt a little ashamed, actually, of the way she’d used some of those guys, even though they were usually more than happy to be used and she’d never been dishonest with any of them. “This isn’t about just kissing and proving to myself that someone can like me and be attracted to me. It’s not just as simple as asking a cute guy to a party, I just…” She sighed. “It’s the first time I’ve really felt like this since then, with all the butterflies and the fear and the...the…”

“Passion?” suggested Alya smugly, and Marinette rolled her eyes again.

“Whatever. The point is, I just need to be the one to say it, and I want to do it face to face.”

“Well, maybe you’re right and I don’t really get it,” Alya sighed. “It sounds like he’s pretty into you, so it seems like you’re splitting unnecessary hairs. But I guess you do what you have to do, girl.”

“I will,” Marinette said firmly, “And what I need to do now is get these garments finished for my presentation so I can put that to bed and focus on beating my gorgeous potential boyfriend this weekend before I confess my—”

“Yeeees?” Alya teased.

“Feelings,” Marinette finished with a flush. “Look, can we be done talking about this now?”

“Fine,” Alya rolled her eyes and put the hammer down, stretching her fingers. “I’m going to go grab some water, do you guys want some?”

“Yes, please,” Marinette and Max chorused together, and Alya stood up. Before heading to the trap door, she crossed the room to look over Max’s shoulder at the wire he was twisting to match the sketch Marinette had given him.

“Wow, Max, you’re surprisingly good at that,” Alya commented, and Max gave her a look over his glasses.

“I know my way around wires and a pair of pliers, thank you very much,” Max sniffed. “It’s not that different from wiring a circuit board.”

“Well, the next time you need help with something like that, count me in,” Marinette said, frowning as she tried to untangle the mess her bobbin had mysteriously become. “I owe you guys sooooo much for this.”

“I will give your offer due consideration when the time inevitably comes,” Max replied. “Incidentally, do you happen to have another ticket to the show? I seem to have misplaced mine.”

“Max, really?” Alya sighed, heading towards the trap door. “You’re going to ask her that now? Have you checked under your piles of nerd crap?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Marinette said, reaching over to grab a decorated box on her desk and rummage through it. “Here you go, Max. Kagami can’t make it so I had one more than I needed anyway.”

“Thank you, Marinette,” Max said, with a grin that would have made her look twice if she hadn’t been so preoccupied.

As it was she barely noticed it, and forgot it entirely until much later, when her presentation was over and the high of achievement and the exhilaration of her first really professional fashion show were finally wearing off and she was about to fall into bed for the night. As she fumbled to plug her phone into the charger, she noticed a text on the screen and paused.

It was from Luka.

You were fantastic up there. Sorry I couldn’t stay long enough to see you after. Congratulations, all the hard work paid off.

Marinette gaped at the phone for a moment. You were there? she texted back, and then berated herself for not checking the time first. He was probably asleep, he must have sent that text hours ago.

Even as she thought it, her phone pinged with a response.

Yeah, I hope that was okay. Tell Max thanks for the ticket. ;)

Marinette gaped again, and then pouted for a moment before hitting the call button.

Luka picked up right away. “Surprise,” he said, laughter in his warm voice.

“Max is a sneak,” Marinette pouted, though she was trying not to smile. “And I’m going to kill him.”

“Max is a sneak,” Luka agreed. “But don’t be mad. I ran into him the other day and asked how you were, and we got to talking, and I let it slip that I really wished I could be there, and he gave me his ticket on the spot. Made me promise not to tell you until after, though. I would’ve stayed to say congrats but I had a gig I had to get to, and...well I didn’t want to make things weird.”

“I’m glad you were there,” Marinette smiled, and then added shyly, “You really think I did well?”

“You did amazing,” he said sincerely, and Marinette felt a thrill that made her wiggle a little in place. “I know a thing or two about stage presence, and you’ve definitely got it. I’m really glad I got to see you present. And...well I can’t claim to know much about fashion, but I really liked what you did.”

A hot flush raced up her face and she slapped a hand over it even though he couldn’t see her.

“Marinette? You okay?”

Marinette made an affirmative noise. “Sorry. I just...that makes me really happy. That you think so. That you liked it. I—” She made a high pitched whine. “I’m not making any sense.”

“It’s late and you’re tired,” Luka chuckled. “It’s fine. I don’t want to keep you up any longer, I just wanted to let you know I was there. Juleka said it was creepy to show up without telling you.”

Marinette giggled. “Well, she maybe has a point. I would have gotten tickets for you and Juleka both if you had asked.”

“Sorry,” Luka sighed, and she heard a thump that she thought might be his head hitting a table. “I promise, I didn’t mean anything by it, I just...I knew it was important to you and…I know you needed space and I didn’t want to confuse anything and—” He cut off with a strangled noise and sighed. “Okay, I’m going to tell you good night now and hang up before I dig myself any deeper.”

Marinette had to bite her lip to stop her giggling, “You don’t have to be sorry. I’m really glad you were there, Luka. Really. That...it was important to me, and it’s an important part of me, and I didn’t think about it before but...I’m really glad I got to show you that. Seeing you play on stage, I felt like I really got to see an important side of you that I didn’t know anything about, so...I hope maybe tonight was like that for you.” She bit her tongue, feeling like she wasn’t explaining herself well.

“It was,” Luka said, his voice softening a little in a way that made her shiver. “It really was, and…” He paused, and cleared his throat. “Well. I know you’ve been working hard and I don’t want to keep you up any later. I just wanted to tell you I thought you did great tonight and I’m super impressed, as always. Get some sleep, okay?”

“Sleep,” Marinette repeated, hand still over her face. “Sleep would be good. Maybe for like a week.”

“You’ve really been running hard, huh,” Luka said sympathetically. “Once all this is over, we’ll take some time and just hang out and relax. I’ll play for you.”

“Really?” Marinette perked up.

“Yeah,” Luka chuckled. “Just like that day on the boat.”

“That was nice,” Marinette smiled, finally letting her hand slide down off her face.

“Mm. It really was.”

There was a long pause.

“I should—” she began, just as he said, “You should—” and they both laughed.

“Good night, Marinette,” Luka said at last. “Rest well.”

“Good night, Luka,” Marinette murmured. “See you soon.”

“Soon,” he repeated, and hung up.

A few minutes later her phone beeped with one final text.

Can’t wait to see you this weekend.

Marinette sent back a single pink heart and fell back giggling onto her bed, kicking her feet for a second in a brief burst of energy before she crawled under the covers and fell asleep with a grin on her face.

When Max showed up for practice the next day, she punched him in the arm, and then threw her arms around his neck. “You’re a great friend,” she mumbled into his shoulder. “And I hate you.”

Max just chuckled and patted her back.

***

The morning of the UMSIII Master League Championship, Marinette was a fluttering, nervous wreck. That wasn’t totally unexpected, and her parents put up cheerfully with her clumsiness, absentmindedness, and confusion, giving her gentle encouragement and moving the breakables quietly out of her path. Finally they kissed her goodbye, handed her the bag she’d been about to forget, and promised that they would be in the stands with the rest of her friends.

She leaned her head on the cool metal rail of the subway and tried to breathe. There was a lot on the line today. Marinette was fairly confident she could place, but...she wanted to win. There was a steep drop in the prize value between first and second place and an even sharper drop between second and third. She wanted to do well, yes, but really she wanted to win.

Luka wanted to win too, and that made her stomach twist. She hadn’t seen him in person since the night of the party. Other than their brief conversations, Marinette had been trying not to think too hard about him, to focus on the competition in her practice sessions with Max, but she wasn’t entirely successful. A lot of things had fallen into place for her since she’d seen him on stage. Now she understood how he played to the crowd in his interviews, the way he could project his voice in a crowd, the calm, easy going demeanor he kept up even in the heat of competition. He was used to pressure, he was used to crowds, he was a trained vocalist, and he enjoyed having an audience. Marinette felt like she had a much better picture of him in her mind now, a better understanding of who he was, and everything she knew just made her want to know more.

She was determined to tell him so.

But first she had to get through the tournament. And some small, ugly little part of her was afraid. Would he still want to talk to her if she beat him?

Of course he would. It was ridiculous to think otherwise. It was just a game, after all.

A game with both their dreams on the line.

She almost missed her metro stop.

Marinette swallowed hard as she walked up to the huge stadium and showed her player pass to the guard. She was on her own for the moment; the individual finals would be held in the afternoon and the team competition in the evening, so Max couldn’t come with her. Marinette was the only player in the finals for both the individual and the team championship. Well, and Luka. Technically he was still part of the team, even if he wouldn’t play.

She was escorted to a small lounge area where other players had already begun to congregate. She scanned the room but didn’t see Luka. Marinette wandered back and forth aimlessly, growing more and more restless the longer they were stuck waiting, her thoughts growing scattered and fragmented and her hands starting to shake slightly. She wished she’d brought her sketchbook, or some knitting. Something, anything, to vent her energy on and focus her mind.

A touch on her shoulder made her jump and she whirled around to find Luka behind her, looking surprised and then apologetic, shoulders hunching slightly. “Sorry. I called your name, but…” He shrugged and held out a bottle of water, a slow smile spreading over his face. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Marinette smiled shyly back. “Sorry, I guess I was zoned out.” She took the bottle and twisted off the cap. “Too much energy and nowhere to spend it.” She took a sip, peeking at him around the bottle. He wasn’t wearing his Viperion hoodie, but his old one, with her red stitching at the seams. She focused on the logo on his chest as she lowered the bottle. “New shirt?”

“Yeah,” Luka rolled his eyes. “The league sent it to me. Apparently they don’t want their vintage branding on the livestream tonight, so they asked me to wear the new logo.”

Marinette huffed a quiet laugh. “Naturally.” She wrinkled her nose slightly. “The old one was better.”

“Right?” Luka groaned. “I almost wore it anyway, but…” He shrugged. “Wasn’t worth the fight, to be honest.”

Marinette started to ask why he hadn’t worn his Viperion hoodie, but changed her mind, not sure that she wanted to know the answer. Instead she blurted, “You look good,” and promptly wanted to kick herself. He did look good; the new shirt fit him better than the old one, his hair was styled more deliberately than usual and the color in it looked recently touched up, bright and vibrant. He was freshly shaved and, she was pretty sure, wearing a touch of makeup, probably to keep from looking washed out under the lights. Of course he would consider those things. Was that peach lipstick? It was a good color on him.

Oh God she was staring.

“You do too,” Luka smiled, reaching up to brush her pigtail back behind her shoulder. suddenly he winced and jerked his hand back quickly. “Sorry, I shouldn’t—sorry if I’m—”

“It’s okay,” Marinette said, catching the hand he was pulling back. “Really, Luka, I don’t mind. I know it’s how you connect. I know you won’t do anything inappropriate, and I don’t mind the rest, so just don’t worry about it.”

Luka relaxed, and she squeezed his hand before letting go of it. “Thanks,” he said, reaching up to run a hand through his hair and stopping just in time. He tilted his head slightly, looking at Marinette, who found herself beginning to fidget again. “Are you okay?”

Marinette smiled, but her face felt like wood. “I’m fine. It’s fine.”

Luka raised his eyebrows slightly, and Marinette noticed absently that he was wearing eyeliner. “You don’t look fine,” he observed, and nudged the hand holding the water bottle. “Drink. It’s going to be crazy once things get going. Better to start hydrating now.”

Marinette drank, more because she didn’t feel like arguing than from actually believing she needed it. “How can you be so calm?” she asked with a gusty sigh after she lowered the bottle.

Luka shrugged and flashed a grin. “Don’t forget I’ve done this before. Helps that I was practically raised on stage, so the lights, the effects, none of that really bothers me.” He put a hand on her shoulder and massaged gently. “I’m honestly a little surprised to see you so tense. I didn’t think anything would rattle you after seeing you up on stage before. You owned it and you didn’t look nervous at all.”

“That was fashion,” Marinette hissed, glancing at the other competitors. “And I was busy. I didn’t have time to freak out. Not like this, with all the...the waiting. ” She tugged at her pigtails and resisted the urge to whine. “I just want to get started already! Just—all this—” she flapped her hands, trying to indicate the pent-up energy inside her. “There’s nowhere for it to go.”

“Ah.” Luka glanced away, and then looked at her again. “I don’t know if it would help, but...want to meditate with me? I always try to meditate for at least a few minutes before I have to go on stage. Or into a competition.”

Marinette blinked at him, for a moment and he shrugged. “But if you don’t want to, it’s fine, I know it’s a little weird, to think about sitting still when you’re so worked up—”

“No, I—that sounds good.” Marinette glanced around. “But where—”

Luka tipped his head to indicate a direction and Marinette followed him to a corner of the lounge where there was an old, battered, but currently empty sofa. He sat down and Marinette sat next to him. She glanced around a little self-consciously but most of the competitors were focused on their own pre-game rituals. The nervous chatterers were congregated together, fidgeting back and forth as they all talked over each other. Several others had headphones and closed eyes, a couple were pacing, and the only other female competitor in the room was staring at the ground, mumbling with her eyes closed and her weight shifting from foot to foot. No one was paying the two of them any mind at all.

“Everybody’s too worried about their own game to care what we do,” Luka murmured, slipping a guitar pick out of his pocket and rotating it in his fingers. “Don’t worry about them, just focus on you.” He held the pick between his thumb and forefinger and breathed in slowly, and then out, closing his eyes.

Marinette watched him for a moment, then placed one hand over the other in her lap, palms up, and did the same. It took some effort to keep from fidgeting, to force the circumstances from her mind and bring her scattered focus to her breathing and the flow of her energy, but Luka’s calm presence and the slow, regular swell of his ribs moving his arm against hers, helped her settle her mind.

As she breathed, the nervous flutters ebbed. She felt more solidly in her skin than she had all day. The tension was still there, but it was more focused now, less chaotic. She felt worlds better...but a little guilty.

“You shouldn’t be helping me so much,” Marinette murmured, her eyes still closed.

Luka’s shoulder vibrated against hers as he chuckled. “Have you looked at the brackets? Clearly the marketing geniuses have been at work because we don’t face each other until the finals. I want you to be there, not flame out from nerves in your first matchup.” After a moment he added quietly, “And you’re my friend. I can’t see you unhappy and not help. You’ve done a lot for me too, you know.”

Marinette unfolded her hands and fumbled blindly beside her. She found his forearm and slid her hand down to slip her fingers through his and squeezed.

“I’m really glad I met you, Luka,” she whispered. “Whatever happens today, I hope we can...” She hesitated, not wanting to say stay friends, because that wasn’t what she wanted. She opened one eye and peeked at him, and saw his eyes open as well as he smiled at her. His thumb caressed the back of her hand lightly.

“I hear you,” he said softly, and the drop in his voice made her insides quiver pleasantly. She was suddenly extremely aware of the rough skin of his hand enveloping hers, the warmth of where their shoulders pressed together. “I’m glad we met too. I want you to be in my life, no matter what happens today.”

Marinette had to press her lips together to contain her smile. “Yeah...me too.”

Luka glanced at the other players and gently extracted his hand. He took Marinette’s wrist and put her hand back on her own knee before curling his fingers back together and closing his eyes. Marinette understood, folding her hands back together and deepening her breathing again. It wouldn’t do for them to be cuddling too obviously in front of everyone else. There would already be talk, she was sure, if Ladybug and Viperion began dating after the tournament was over, no matter who won.

But before she could think of that, she had to win.

And before she could even think about beating Luka, she had other competitors to worry about. He was right. She needed to focus and not let the situation get the better of her.

She stayed there, meditating alongside Luka, until the handlers came to get the players and walk them through their entrances and the procedures between matches. The sight of the jumbotron overhead and the giant stadium full of currently empty but soon-to-be-packed seats made Marinette’s nerves flare up again. Luka’s hand squeezed her shoulder, bringing her focus back to the moment.

“Hey,” he murmured when she looked up at him. “It’s just another match. The livestream’s just a little more up close and personal than we’re used to.” He grinned at her. “They’re all coming to see Ladybug and Viperion face off.”

Marinette grinned back, and then brought her attention back to the handler explaining the procedure and reiterating the rules.The quarter finals and semifinals would be best two out of three, and the finals best three out of five. Matches would be held simultaneously using the pyrapods set up at ground level, and at the back, an elevated stage contained two pyrapods that would be used for the finals.

None of this was news and Marinette was back to shifting from foot-to-foot impatiently, checking the time. Luka seemed as calm and relaxed as ever, but she could see the tightness beginning around his eyes and knew he was ready to get started too.

Finally they were dumped back in the lounge, and Marinette went to the restroom. She’d done the rest of her routine at home, but she wanted her makeup mask fresh and bright. The ritual of putting it on, dusting the red mask across her eyes and drawing in her spots, calmed some of her resurging nerves, and when she straightened up from the mirror, Ladybug looked back at her.

Ladybug was not going to lose because of stage fright.

Marinette reached back into her makeup bag and hesitated as her hand found her tube of black lipstick. She bit her lip and looked at her reflection again. The championship seemed like a bad time to be making changes, but…

Marinette swapped the black lipstick for red and painted her lips with quick, decisive movements, and then snapped the cap back on with a quiet click. She made sure her pigtails were still tight and secure, tapped her lucky earrings three times, and then zipped up her bag and went back to the lounge, already feeling more confident and ready to compete.

Luka caught her eye immediately when she stepped back inside, and she saw him grin at the change, but then the competitors were being herded out of the lounge and into the tunnel they would take into the arena.

In the chaos, she felt Luka’s hand wrap around hers and squeeze, and quickly let go. The competitors milled around in the tunnel aimlessly, well back from the fog machine spewing smoke near the entrance, until two production assistants dressed in black brusquely took charge and lined them up in a supposedly randomly generated but very important order, warning them to not, under any circumstances, shuffle the order or cross the line before their names were called or move from their place in line. Marinette found herself in the middle of the line, with Luka right beside her. “Random, huh,” Luka chuckled. “Yeah, right.”

“They’re really hyping us up,” Marinette agreed.

“Guess we better not let them down.” Luka and Marinette exchanged a look, and then a fistbump. “See you in the finals, Ladybug,” he grinned.

“I’ll be there,” she grinned back. “You better not stand me up, Viperion.”

“Never.”

“Oh my God, get a room,” muttered the guy on Marinette’s other side. “You two are disgusting.”

Marinette flushed, but Luka just chuckled again. “Aww, Pharaoh, you know I love beating you too, it’s just not in the cards today, man.”

Pharaoh scowled over Marinette’s head at him. “Kiss my ass, snake boy.”

“Oh, when Ladybug here’s done kicking it you’re gonna need somebody to,” Luka said, winking at Marinette. “‘Fraid I’ll be busy, though. Tagger can do it for me, he’ll be free.”

“I hate you so much,” Tagger, Luka’s first round opponent, grumbled from down the line. “Fucking cocky bastard.”

Marinette giggled, and Luka nudged her shoulder playfully with his. She looked up into his face and she could see the thrill of competition beginning to get to him, in his pirate grin and the sparkle in his eyes, and the challenge there sparked Marinette’s own competitive spirit.

“He’s not wrong,” she said, arching an eyebrow. “I thought the very same thing to myself during our first match.” Luka feigned being struck in the heart.

“Betrayal!” he laughed. “I’m not cocky, I’m right. It’s not boasting if you can back it up.”

“You can back it up all the way to second place.” Marinette poked him in the chest and he grabbed her hand, leaning down over her with a grin.

“Don’t make me break out Max’s win percentages again.”

“The numbers can’t help you now,” Marinette shot back, pulling her hand free. She stepped up close to him and looked up into his face, shoulders back and hands on her hips. “We’re starting with a clean slate today and all that matters is here and now. I hope you enjoyed winning all those matches, Viperion, because it’s only going to make it sweeter when I finally take you down.”

Luka bit his lip, and Marinette quirked her eyebrow a little higher, and then Pharaoh coughed, making them both jump. “We’re still here, you know,” he said sardonically as Marinette and Luka turned away from each other, Luka clearly fighting a grin, pink coloring the high points of his cheeks, and Marinette turning a brilliant red that she could only hope would fade before she was announced.

Mercifully the announcer began calling names, distracting everyone as a murmur of excitement went down the line.

Suddenly there was no one in front of Marinette and her heart began to pound.

“Ladybug!” the announcer roared, and the crowd erupted into a deafening roar that startled her. Marinette wasn’t given time to hesitate, though; the production assistant planted a hand in the middle of her back and shoved her forward into the fog. For a moment she was blind and confused, but then she stumbled out of the fog and into the bright lights of the stadium. Marinette quickly pasted on a wide smile and raised her arms to wave with both hands to the crowd, though her knees felt like jelly at the sight of so many people and her own promo picture on the jumbotron, smirking at the camera in full makeup and a challenging posture.

Somehow she made it across the field to her mark next to Pharaoh, and then the announcer was calling Viperion, and she turned her head, clapping automatically as Luka emerged from the fog and waved, looking completely at ease with his usual relaxed smile as he sauntered over to stand next to her. Part of the stadium started up a chant for him and he waved again, ducking his head slightly. Suddenly a competing chant of Ladybug! Ladybug! came up and Luka nudged her with a grin. She raised a slightly shaky hand to wave back, and then Luka made a settle down gesture with his hands. Marinette copied him and the chants died down so the announcer could call the next player.

Marinette curled her fingers together, willing herself not to take Luka’s hand or grab onto his sleeve. Beside her, Luka folded his arms, and she wondered if he was fighting the same urge to touch her. He glanced at her and then quickly away, and her cheeks warmed, and she quickly aimed her suddenly much more sincere smile at the crowd, waving again.

“You’ve got this, Ladybug,” Viperion leaned down to whisper when the announcer dismissed them to their pods. “I’ll be cheering for you.”

“Worry about yourself,” Ladybug grinned and winked. “Like you said, I’ve got this.”

Viperion grinned and shook his head as they separated.

Marinette was still nervous but smiling as she stepped into her pod and picked up her headset. “Viperion’s going to be so disappointed when I beat you,” Pharaoh said as soon as the channel was active. “Poor little Ladybug’s about to get squashed.”

Marinette snorted. “I hope your game is more interesting than your trash talk,” she snickered. “If that’s as creative as you can get this is going to be really boring.” Pharaoh spluttered and Marinette grinned as the countdown began to blink. The controller in her hands felt like a part of her by now, and she bounced on her toes a little, eager for things to finally begin.

It wasn’t easy; crappy trash talk aside, Pharaoh was a highly ranked player and skilled enough to be a challenge. It was a perfect first match for her, actually, because she had to think to beat him and once her mind was focused and fully immersed in the game, she overcame the few mistakes she’d made early on. She was grinning broadly as she stepped out of the pod and raised her arms to acknowledge the cheers that followed when the announcer boomed out her name as the winner. Even as she did, though, she was looking for the leaderboard on the giant screen above them. At first she saw only her own flushed and happy face, but then the leaderboard reappeared, Viperion’s name blinking and then advancing to the next level.

“Yes!” Marinette squealed, jumping up and down in place. She whipped her head towards Luka’s pod and watched him emerge. He looked up immediately just as she had, and punched the air and looked back at her with a broad grin. They both stood and watched as one by one the other players turned red or blinked green and advanced.

Like Kagami’s party, like her presentation and fashion show, everything seemed to go by in a whirl and a blur. Months of preparation and planning and practice and the slow-motion waiting of the morning gave way to a heart-pounding, adrenaline-pumping whirl as she faced down match after match, dominating some and barely squeaking by others. Before she knew it, she was staring up at the jumbotron while the crowd screamed and the announcer cried, “And this is what we’ve all been waiting for, this is what we all came here to see! The final matchup in the Master League Championship will be! Ladybug! Versus! Viperioooooooon!”

Marinette raised her arms and waved with both hands again as the crowd cheered then she was being ushered off the field, back into the tunnel and then to the backstage area to wait while the runners up duked it out for third and fourth place and the crew made sure everything was set up for the final.

Marinette stared up at the steps to the stage and felt herself start to shake. She didn’t even notice Luka speaking at her side until he took her arm and turned her to face him.

“Marinette, are you okay?” he asked, the grin quickly dropping from his face as he looked at her.

“Yeah,” she said, trying to smile. “I’m f-fine.”

“You’re pale as a ghost.” Luka’s expression was grave and worried and he pulled her over to a chair and pushed her into it. “Sit. Breathe, Marinette. Are you dizzy?”

“I’m fine,” Marinette said, trying to take his advice and slow her breathing. “I’m okay. I just...I need a second.”

She felt Luka move away, but he was back in moments, kneeling in front of her to press a bottle of water into her hand. “Drink,” he ordered, helping her sit up. “Look at me.” He put his fingers under her chin and gently tipped it up so he could look into her eyes. “You’re sure you’re okay? Do you need the medic?”

“No,” Marinette said, taking a deep breath before lifting the water to her trembling lips. “I’m all right, Luka.” She drank and then sighed. “That was just really intense.” She shot a sardonic smile up at him. “It felt really good though.”

Luka grinned as he took her hand between both of his and rubbed it gently. “It’s a rush, no doubt.”

Marinette took another drink and mumbled weakly, “Gonna be even better when I beat you.”

Luka laughed softly and leaned forward, resting his forehead on hers. Something about that touch was very comforting and she leaned into it. “I’m gonna give you a fight, I hope you know that,” Luka told her. “I’m not going to just hand it to you because you’re—” He paused, and Marinette back to look at him. He brought a hand up to cup her cheek, and Marinette wasn’t sure what might have happened if the production assistants hadn’t come looking for them just then. Luka stood up quickly, turning away from her for a moment, and Marinette put a hand over her chest, feeling the frantic flutter of her heart against her palm.

“Head in the game, Ladybug,” Marinette murmured to herself before she shoved up out of her chair, shaking out her limbs and noting that at least her hands weren’t trembling anymore.

It was time. The handlers lined them up shoulder to shoulder, in front of a fog-covered arch similar to the one on the field.

Luka caught her hand and Marinette let him lace their fingers together. His hold was tighter than she expected and she glanced up at him. That competition spark was in his eyes and she could see the tension across his shoulders. He really was pumped up for this.

He let go of her hand before they walked out together through the fog, waving at the cheering. The lights were hotter and brighter on the stage and Marinette’s nerves increased. She turned to shake hands with Luka and met his eyes, feeling like she was standing outside of her body, but simultaneously hyper aware of his touch and the blue of his eyes and the quirk of his smile before his hand slid away and they each turned to get into their pyrapods.

Marinette came back to herself a bit when the pod slid closed behind her, shutting out the lights and the noise. She became aware of how fast she was breathing and made an effort to slow it down before she picked up her headset and put it on.

“Hanging in there, Bug?” Luka asked, and though his voice was teasing she knew he was checking on her.

“You wanted it,” she replied, “I’m gonna bring it.”

“Show me what you got, Ladybug,” he chuckled, and Marinette grinned, pleased that he remembered after all this time. “I can take it.”

The countdown flashed on the screen, and Marinette took one last deep breath. “It’s been a long time since that first match,” Marinette pointed out with a smile. “I’m not the same newbie you played back then.”

“I know,” he said, and she could see his pirate grin in her mind (and she was kind of glad she couldn’t see it projected on the big screen outside; at that magnitude it might actually kill her). “I can’t wait.”

Once they started playing, there was no time to think about anything but the game.

Luka won the first match, and Marinette couldn’t help her sigh, annoyed with herself. She’d been nervous and jumpy in the beginning and it had cost her. She and Luka were so evenly matched at this point that both knew they couldn’t give an inch or make a single mistake. She was going to have to do better.

“It’s just the first match,” she heard Luka say over her headset, and she wasn’t sure if it was meant to comfort her or steady him.

“I never thought it would be easy,” Marinette replied, and then smiled. “So let’s give the people the show they came for.”

“You know it,” he laughed.

The next match was closer but Luka won that one too, and Marinette bit her lip hard, fighting the churning feeling in her stomach. If she lost the next one, that was it; she couldn’t afford to lose any more.

Luka groaned as the third match ended. “Man, how do you do that. I was sure I had you there.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Marinette replied, putting down the controller and shaking out her hands. They trembled slightly from the close call; he really had almost had her, and that would have been the end.

“You really are,” Luka chuckled. “Playing you is never boring, that’s for sure. Okay, just one more match to go.”

“Oh, don’t count your trophies before they’re in the case,” Marinette muttered, narrowing her eyes though a smile tugged at her mouth. “No way I’m letting you take it that easily.”

“We’ll see,” Luka said, and then the countdown started again.

The fourth match turned out to be an easy win for Marinette; Luka misjudged his timing early on and Marinette gave him no time to recover.

Marinette had to take a few more deep breaths as they prepared for the fifth and final match. Her stomach felt like jelly but her hands were steady. One more. She just had to beat him one more time. Either way, all of this would be over soon. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that so she pushed it aside, needing all her focus for the game.

It was close, it was so close. Both of them had just a sliver of health left and Marinette was starting to panic. She’d managed to deflect his first venom strike, but the fight had gone on long enough that the ability had recharged and she hadn’t been able to dodge a second time. He didn’t even have to land another attack; if he held her off long enough, he would win with the recurring damage from the venom strike. She needed to take him out, but he kept interrupting her attacks, taking low level damage from her defensive moves to prevent her from getting a combo attack together. He was gambling that he could hold out until the venom strike wiped out the last of her health bar, and it was a bet he was going to win if Marinette couldn’t get off a decent attack.

She bit her lip and tried to think. His armor has always been his weak point; she just needed to get one killer combo off and he’d be finished. Luka knew it, too. If he failed to interrupt her even once she’d take him out. Every time he attacked her directly, though, he took damage from her shields and counterattack. He could keep gambling on his health to hold out until the venom strike, or if he timed it just right, he could get his stun attack off and freeze her. If he could get the move off, she’d be held just long enough for the venom strike to finish her.

But he couldn’t interrupt her attacks while he was charging the ability. If he tried it, and she was fast enough...she’d have to be so fast. It would have to be bug bombs, they were the fastest, and they should be enough. She’d have to be ready and watching, and...

Will he still want to be with me if I beat him? Or will I just be another girl that ruined his dreams?

The thought was both terrifying and unwelcome but even as it hit her, she saw Viperion draw back and begin to charge a glowing ball between his hands. Marinette had no time to deliberate, no time for hesitation. Her fingers moved and her mech exploded into action. She executed the attack and dropped the controller, grabbing her hair with her hands as she watched.

The stun left Viperion’s hands—and her bug bombs landed. Even as her mech froze in place, Viperion went down in a series of dramatic explosions.

The screen flashed GAME OVER. It flashed up a picture of her mech with the word WINNER over and over.

“Holy sh—,” she heard Luka whisper, but the channel cut off.

She won.

Numbly she reached up and took off her headset as the pod door slid open behind her.

She stepped out shakily, looking up uncomprehendingly at the crowd.

Across from her, Luka’s pod door was sliding open. The second there was room, Luka exploded out, leaping out with one of his deafening whoops as he caught her up in a bearhug that nearly took the breath from her. He swung her around.

“That was amazing,” he shouted, nearly in her ear to be heard over the crowd. “I thought there was no way you could get an attack off fast enough, but you knew—you knew I was going to do it, didn’t you, you were ready, you’re so incredible—”

“Luka,” Marinette gasped, and laughing, Luka set her down on her feet.

Before Marinette could do more than gasp in a breath, he had ducked down and—well she wasn’t sure exactly what he did, but suddenly she shrieked as he ducked his head under her leg and somehow managed to lift her onto his shoulders despite her flailing. He caught her hands and steadied her, and then let go of one hand to pump his fist in the air and cheer for her. Marinette kept a death grip on his other hand but she managed to smile and reach up to wave at the crowd, letting out a breathless laugh once the shock wore off. The crowd was cheering and her face was on the jumbotron, smiling but still looking more stunned than victorious. Luka turned in a slow circle so she could wave at the whole crowd until her arm was sore.

It took her a minute to realize the announcer was trying to get her attention. “Ladybug, you are the Ultimate Mecha Strike III regional champion! Congratulations! How do you feel right now?” A slightly hysterical giggle escaped her at the way he had to hold the microphone up above his head to catch her answer.

“I feel amazing, but my day isn't over yet,” she laughed.

“That’s right, we’ll see you as part of Team Lucky Charm in the team competition later tonight! We’ll be looking forward to that. Viperion, you and Ladybug have had quite the rivalry going on and you were heavily the favorite to win coming into this event. How do you feel about taking second place tonight?”

“I can’t be sore about a loss like that,” Luka laughed. “Of course I wanted to win, but—” He shook her head. “You can’t deny that was brilliant.” He patted Marinette’s leg on his shoulder. “Congratulations, Ladybug. The best player definitely won today.”

“All right, look for more exclusive interview content with Ladybug and Viperion on the blog later tonight,” the announcer said into the microphone, looking up into the crowd. “We’re going to take a short recess to get things ready here and then we’ll be back to bring you the Master League team championship. “Congratulations again, Ladybug and Viperion.”

He gestured them back towards the arch, and Luka carried Marinette back through it, both of them waving at the crowd as they went.

Marinette’s legs felt like jelly as she scrambled down from Luka’s shoulders, and he held her elbows as she swayed slightly, and when she was steady he hugged her tight. “Congratulations.”

“You’re not mad?” she asked softly, looking up at him through her lashes.

Luka curled a finger under her chin and tipped her face up so that she was looking at him more directly. “I’m not mad,” he promised, and the soft smile he gave her and the gentle look in his eyes made her believe him. “I’ll be disappointed, probably, tomorrow. I’ll have to scale back my plans. But that’s okay. I took a chance and it didn’t work out in my favor. You played your best. No regrets here. I’m so happy for you, too, and impressed, and…” he paused, and took a deep breath. “I’m definitely not mad.” His hand moved up to cup her cheek, and his thumb brushed over her face for a moment.

“Viperion, Ladybug! Press room, let’s go.”

“Oh,” Marinette gasped, but Luka just chuckled and put a hand on her arm. She went with him a little numbly until they were separated for the post-game interviews. Marinette wasn’t sure anything she said was coherent, but she had enough presence of mind to work in a mention of the bakery and her fashion business, so hopefully it wasn’t a total loss.

“I’m sure you did great,” Luka told her as they walked out.

“I hope so,” Marinette sighed, putting a hand against her forehead and flapping her hoodie to get some air under it. “But it’s over now, so no point in worrying about it.”

“Yeah,” Luka smiled, and then nudged her shoulder with his arm. “I guess you better go. You’re not done yet, remember?”

“Yeah,” Marinette nodded, turning to face her. “But...you’re going to stay, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Luka grinned. “I’ll be cheering you on, no fear. And...I’ll be here after. Assuming you still want to talk?”

“I do,” Marinette said quickly, blushing.

“Okay then. You go get ready and find Max, and I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” Marinette whispered, and rose on her toes to quickly kiss his cheek before following a production assistant with a clipboard back to the player lounge.

Max nearly knocked her over in his enthusiasm as soon as she walked in, and she clung to the back of his hoodie, laughing incredulously. “I still can’t believe it,” she whispered.

“I believe the evidence is irrefutable,” Max pointed out, and Marinette rolled her eyes, pushing him away.

“You changed your lipstick,” Max observed as she looked up at him, and Marinette’s fingers flew to her mouth.

“Oh, I forgot. I can—I can go change it back, if you’re afraid it’ll jinx us—” She knew how Max would react as soon as she said the words and pouted while he snorted with laughter.

“I appreciate the thought, but I don’t think the color of your lipstick will be the deciding factor,” Max snickered, and Marinette shoved him, making him stagger.

“Jerk,” she muttered.

“I bet Luka liked it,” Max observed smugly, and Marinette’s face flamed red.

“We’re not going to win this tournament if I break your arm before it starts,” she threatened, punching Max (lightly, as she knew her skinny friend bruised easily) in the arm.

“I’m sure Luka would comfort y—ow!”

The waiting dragged on again but at least this time she had Max to talk to and strategize with. Once they walked out of the stupid fog tunnel, the whirl began again. It wasn’t any easier, Marinette found, but this time it was Max, confident in his calculations and their abilities, who was her steadying influence. She had more leeway, too, with Max there, they could cover for each other's mistakes. It felt like only moments before they were ushered into the backstage area, waiting to face their final opponents. Marinette felt a bit shaky and weak in the knees again from the rush, but this time she sat herself down and breathed through it while Max paced, muttering strategy and calculations to himself.

Someone cleared their throat beside her and Marinette looked up to find Luka standing there. Now he was wearing his Viperion hoodie, his face made up in a very good approximation of the mask Marinette had put on him when they played together, and he grinned widely at Marinette’s staring eyes. “Surprise.”

Marinette sputtered for a moment, leaping to her feet as Max reversed his pacing and came over. “What are you—how did you even get back here?”

Luka shrugged, still grinning. “I’m on the team roster so I’m cleared to be here. I just wanted to wish you good luck,” he said, addressing them both though his eyes kept coming back to Marinette. “Not that you need it. I um, I hope this is okay.” He gestured vaguely at himself, and Marinette shut her gaping mouth with a snap. “I didn’t feel right wearing it while we were going head to head, but I just...I wanted to be here and support you guys as much as I could.” He held out his hand to Max, though he sent a worried-looking glance at Marinette, who couldn’t seem to move.

“Absolutely,” Max said, stepping forward to meet Luka’s fistbump as if he didn’t notice Marinette was suddenly paralyzed next to him. “You’re a part of this team, and it wouldn’t feel right doing this without you.”

Luka shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t do that much.”

Marinette’s mouth dropped open again, this time in outrage, but Max beat her to it. “Don’t conflate the magnitude of the effort with its importance,” he told Luka, reaching out to pat his arm awkwardly. Luka’s eyes flicked to Marinette for a moment and she could see his amusement, though he kept a straight face. “Without your assistance we would never have finished the tournament in such an advantageous position for the finals,” Max continued, drawing his hand back to adjust his dark glasses. “We are indeed grateful and your position as a teammate is by no means honorary. I hope when we emerge victorious, you will join us in the awards ceremony.”

“Oh, I—” Luka looked thrown, but Marinette nodded enthusiastically, catching his arm and squeezing it.

“Max is right. You belong up there with us.” She aimed a reassuring smile at him. “I’m glad you’re here.”

The tension left Luka’s shoulders and he started to say something, but he was cut off.

“Team Lucky Charm!” the man with the clipboard shouted without actually looking at them. “Prep for entry. Go up the stage steps but do not cross the yellow line until you’re announced.”

Marinette’s eyes widened slightly, and her whole body tensed. Once again she put a hand over her wildly beating heart and tried to breathe. One more time. She just had to face the lights and the screaming one more time.

Luka’s hand covered hers on his arm and Marinette realized she was digging her fingers into his sleeve. “Hey,” he said, gently detaching her fingers from his sleeve. “You’ve got this. Just like before, right? Own it.” He drew her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips lightly. Warmth spread from her fingers down her arm and through her body, pooling in her face and stomach. “Come on, before Max leaves you behind,” Luka said, letting go of her hand and placing his on her lower back, pressing gently until she began to move. He walked with her to the bottom of the stage’s metal stairs behind Max, who was marching forward with determination, confident that the numbers were on their side and determined not to be swayed by something as illogical as stage fright.

Marinette paused at the bottom of the stairs, Luka’s hand still warm on her back, her heart beating wildly in her throat.

“Remember,” Luka soothed from behind her. “All you have to do is get across the stage and it doesn’t matter how. Once you’re in the pod you’ll forget everything else, just like before. Besides,” he grinned. “They’re just people. You’re the champion.”

Marinette turned impulsively and hugged him tight. “Thank you,” she muttered, not quite daring to press her face into his chest. Luka’s hands went to her shoulders and squeezed. “Thank you for everything today.

“You’ve got this,” he repeated, sliding his hands down to her arms and shifting her gently back until she stepped up onto the first step, and once her eyes were level with his it became a little easier to breathe in the face of his calm confidence. “Whatever’s gonna happen is gonna happen, right? So just get out there and play.” He grinned. “Good luck, Ladybug.”

Marinette felt an answering smile growing on her face.

“Marinette!” Max called from where he was waiting near the top of the stairs. “Hurry up!”

Marinette looked up at Max as Luka let go of her, but she turned back quickly, grabbed Luka’s face in her hands, and pressed her lips hard to his. He made a startled noise, and when she would have pulled back his hand came up to cradle the back of her head, prolonging the kiss as he swayed after her. Max hissed her name again from the top of the stairs and Luka let her go, breathing hard, something kindling in his blue eyes that made her flush and grin stupidly back at him.

Then Max was grabbing her arm and hauling her, stumbling, back up the stairs with him. “The sooner you two have that talk, the better,” he muttered as they went up the last few steps together, Marinette trying to contain the stupid grin that kept wanting to break out on her face. "May I remind you we have a competition to win? The sooner it’s over, the sooner you two can go make out in a supply closet.”

“Max!” Marinette whisper-shouted in horror, and Max just grinned.

“Win first,” he told her, adjusting his horseshoe pendant. “Kisses later.”

Before she could retort, the announcer roared out, “Team Luckyyyyyy Chaaaarm!” and there was no more time to think about anything besides the bright lights and roaring crowd, and then the blink of the countdown and the hard plastic of the controller against her palms.

***

Luka was waiting when Marinette came flying down the stairs, a laughing Max following in her wake.

This time she leapt into his arms, making him stagger, and her feet never touched the ground as he laughed and spun her around. He bounced her a couple of times before she let her feet drop to the floor and gave him enough room to share a fistbump and back-slapping hug with Max.

Then everything was a whirl again, as all three of them were ushered to the press room for interviews and soundbites, and Marinette wasn’t sure whether she managed to get out anything coherent or not. She and Max both kept a hold on Luka, dragging him into the interviews with them, and they presented as a team. Luka’s experience bailed them out a couple of times when unexpected questions gave them pause, and his hand on her back was steadying when she started to stammer. Marinette paused and took a breath and steadied her voice before answering the next question.

“You guys did great,” Luka murmured when they were finally released, and then there was another flood of bodies on them, and Alya was screaming in her ear and Max’s mother was screaming in his and then Kim wrapped his arms around both Max and Mrs. Kante just as Marinette’s dad did the same to her and Alya, and for a few moments it was a fight to breathe. Marinette saw a flash of Juleka’s purple hair and heard the Captain’s voice boom but everyone was talking at once and Marinette was too overwhelmed to focus on any of it.

Finally, the families were ushered back out to the stands with instructions to be back in their seats in forty-five minutes for the official awards ceremony. As the room began to clear out, leaving the top players milling around with varying expressions of elation and exhaustion. Marinette looked around and found Luka. He was looking right at her, and when their eyes met he tipped his head slightly and indicated the doors. Marinette nodded, heart suddenly in her throat, and Luka flashed her a quick grin before turning away.

“Max,” Marinette whispered watching Luka slip out of the doors, “What are my odds?”

“The human heart is impossible to calculate, Marinette,” Max said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Although that kiss would argue for a positive response.” He squeezed her shoulder lightly. “No matter what happens, I support you one hundred percent.”

Marinette’s brain was already humming, giving her a list of excuses and reasons why it would be better to put this off, starting with the looming awards ceremony and moving on from there, but Max’s hand on her shoulder and Kagami’s words in her mind got her moving forward. No more hesitation.

Marinette wormed her way through the bodies between her and the door and slipped out. She nearly collided with Luka, who was clearly waiting for her. He flashed her a grin and caught her hand, tugging her down the hallway.

“Luka, where are we going?” Marinette hissed as he walked quickly, pulling her along.

“Somewhere we can talk,” he told her, keeping his voice quiet. “Just don’t make too much noise, okay?”

Marinette frowned. “We better not really end up in a supply closet.”

“What?” Luka nearly choked trying to muffle his laughter. “No, I promise, I can do better than that. My mom’s played this arena a couple of times, I know my way around.”

“But—” Marinette began, but then closed her mouth as Luka opened the door to a stairwell and started up it. “I don’t think we’re supposed to be up here,” she whispered as Luka checked the floor number and peeked through the window of the door.

“Nope,” he grinned, opening the door and motioning her through. “Do you trust me?”

She did, so she went through. “We’re not going to the roof this time, are we?” she asked skeptically, and Luka chuckled.

“Not this time.” She followed him down a dimly lit hallway and did her best not to squeal in incredulous dismay as he jimmied a door lock with a credit card.

“All the security on the entrances, and crap locks up here,” he said, swinging the door open. “Typical.”

“I didn’t realize you were a cat burglar in your spare time,” Marinette muttered as he took her hand and drew her inside what turned out to be some kind of private viewing lounge. She could see through the big windows down into the stadium, and the room was scattered with couches and cocktail tables.

“Nah,” Luka laughed quietly through his nose, slipping his wallet back into his pocket. “I’m a pirate.”

Marinette looked at him, and he winked at her with that grin, and she couldn’t help breaking into giggles. “You are, aren’t you,” she laughed, covering her mouth. Luka snickered with her, and for a moment they could only stand there trying to stifle their laughter. Luka made no move to turn the lights on, probably to keep anyone from noticing that the room was occupied, but there was enough light from the windows that they didn’t need it, and eventually their laughter died down, and they were left just looking at each other.

Luka cleared his throat, pulling two bottles of water from the pockets of his hoodie. He held one out to her and she took it gratefully, suddenly aware she was parched.

“I feel like you’ve been taking care of me all day,” Marinette said, stifling more slightly hysterical giggles, and Luka grinned at her.

“Sorry. Big brother thing I guess. Or...well, maybe not,” he blushed and looked away. “I just know you’ve been pushing yourself a lot lately, and today was…” He blew out a breath and shook his head with a grin. “A lot. It can really take it out of you if you’re not taking care of yourself, so...sorry if I’ve been pushy.”

Marinette smiled at him over the rim of her water bottle as he reached to twist the cap off his own. “I didn’t mi—whoa, are you okay?” she reached out to steady him as he suddenly fumbled it, spilling water over his hands.

“Fine,” he said, a little too quickly, shaking the water off his hand without looking at her. “I’m fine.” He took a drink and then coughed, and Marinette pounded his back, concerned.

“Geeze, slow down,” she said, torn between amusement and exasperation. “Maybe somebody ought to be taking care of you.”

He coughed through an embarrassed laugh. “Sorry. God, you always catch me off guard.”

Marinette blushed, though she didn’t understand exactly what he meant. Getting control of himself he added quickly, “Congratulations. You and Max both did amazing. I think I screamed myself hoarse cheering you on.”

Marinette hunched her shoulders slightly with a pleased smile. “You did really great too. I can’t wait to watch the replays, I heard you destroyed Desperada in the second round.”

Luka winced. “Yeah, that was rough, our skills just…” He shook his head. “She’s an amazing player with what she’s got but she’s basically never beaten me because of the way our stats stack up. She’s done so well, I hated for her to go down like that, but…” He shrugged and grinned. “I did what I had to do. Wasn’t going to miss going up against you in the final.”

Marinette grinned back, and then dropped her gaze, a silence falling between them that threatened to become awkward if one of them didn’t find a way to start. Determined that it would be her, Marinette began in a rush. “Um. Well I wanted to—we haven’t really talked, a-about, and we said we would, and I know maybe it might seem like we don’t need to, and, well this might not actually be the best time but if we wait for the perfect moment it’ll never happen, and I know we, uh, before, and then tonight, and so maybe we don’t need to but I just, I hate it when there are all these misunderstandings because people don’t talk and we should talk and—stop laughing!”

“Sorry,” Luka said, bringing up a hand to cover his mouth as he continued to chuckle. “I can’t help it. I’m happy and you’re really cute.”

“Damn it,” she hissed, reaching up with both hands to pull on her pigtails in frustration, “I’m so bad at this!”

“You’re doing fine,” Luka said, taking the bottle of water from her and setting both hers and his on one of the tables. He stepped closer and put both hands on her shoulders, and rubbed lightly. “I can go first if you’d rather.”

Marinette groaned and buried her face in her hands, suddenly mortifyingly close to tears. She was being an idiot. He’d kissed her, and let her kiss him, and acted like he wanted to keep kissing her, and with the texts during the week, and the way he’d been smiling at her all night, and he came to her fashion show, and bringing her up here and the way he was acting now, he really couldn’t be more clear, so why was she still so terrified?

“Marinette,” he said, his voice soft and affectionate, “Listen, I think you’re—”

“No!” she yelled, throwing out her hands and stepping back from him, breaking his hold on her shoulders. “No, I have to do this, please.”

God, she was going to ruin everything, he must think she was insane. There was no way that she could explain to him the utter train wreck that had been her years-long crush-obsession with Adrien Agreste, all the things she’d said and completely failed to say, all the time she’d spent analyzing their least little interactions, all the times she’d practically stalked him only to lose her courage and lie at the last minute, until finally, finally, the words passed her lips in a jumbled wreck and were met with—

She peeked one eye open and could see that Luka was looking at her with concern. His eyes were blue and not green, his hair dark and not blond, and the expression on his face was concern and empathy and not blank confusion.

It wasn’t the same. She could do this. It wouldn’t be the same. It wasn’t the same. She wasn’t the same.

“Are you sure?” Luka said hesitantly. “If it’s this hard for you, then—I mean I thought you’d know by now that I—but you don’t have to say anything you’re not ready for, you know that, right?”

“No, it’s not that, and it’s not you, it’s me, and I need to deal with it. Please, Luka,” Marinette added desperately. She needed to put this ghost to rest and this was the only way she knew how.

“Okay. Okay, Marinette.” He reached up and took her hands, tugging them gently away from her face and then pulling her over to sit on one of the small couches. “I’m listening. Do what you need to do.”

“I’m sorry,” she sighed, slumping back for a minute. “It’s just, the last time I did something like this it...it didn’t go so well and I know this is different, I do, but it’s...it’s hard. But I want to. I want to do it. I...I kind of need this, Luka.”

“Okay.” Luka slid a little closer, his hands still wrapped around hers. “I hear you. Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Right,” Marinette whispered, half to herself. “Okay.” Luka squeezed her hands and she realized they were shaking. She needed to get this over with before she went completely to pieces. Why did he always have that effect on her?

No.

Adrien had that effect on her.

Luka—Marinette forced herself to raise her eyes to Luka’s, and saw only warmth and encouragement there. She straightened and put her shoulders back and took a breath to steady herself, though the shaking didn’t stop.

“I r-really like you, Luka,” she began, wincing slightly at the stutter and feeling her lips begin to tremble too. “You’ve been a wonderful teammate and a good f-friend, but you’re—” She swallowed hard; this was too close, too close to the words she’d used back then, but it was too late, she had to keep going. “You’re so much more than a friend to me,” she went on in a rush. “At least, I—I want you to be. S-so maybe, if you, um, if you want to, maybe we could go out. Sometime. On a date. A real date, not a just-friends date.” She squeezed her eyes shut and looked down quickly, face burning, suddenly feeling totally inept and like a complete fool and what had she been thinking—

“Yeah.”

Marinette looked up. “What?” Luka was grinning broadly, and he looked oddly...proud. Of her?

Maybe he really was as perceptive as Juleka said.

Shit he was talking, she should listen.

“I said yes. Yes, hell yeah, I’d love to go out with you.”

Marinette blinked at him uncomprehendingly. Luka laughed at the look on her face. “You’re unbelievable,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Smart, sassy, gorgeous, tough, incredibly brave, why wouldn’t I go out with you? Do you really think I’m that big an idiot?”

She gaped at him like a fish.

“Can it be my turn now?” Luka asked, when she didn’t find anything to say, and she nodded dumbly, not entirely sure her soul was still inhabiting her body.

Luka leaned toward her and gently framed her face in his hands. “Marinette, these last few months have been the best I’ve had in a long time and you’ve been a huge part of that, as an opponent and a friend and...honestly the more time I spend with you the more amazing you are to me. I know there’s probably still a lot we don’t know about each other, but I want to. I want you to know me, and I want to know you. All of you. I want to be an expert in Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette had to giggle at that, slapping her hand over her mouth in horror at the high-pitched girly sound of it. Luka’s grin widened as he shook his head and pulled her hand away from her mouth, threading his fingers through hers and lowering their hands to his lap. “Don’t cover it up, it’s so pretty,” he told her, and his slow grin set off an entirely different panic as he tipped her chin up with his free hand, brushing his thumb lightly across her lips. “I was right about the red,” he said, and when did his face get so close, oh no, but also yes, but wait was this too soon or should she—but she wanted to and if he wanted to then that was good enough, right? ”Can I kiss you now?”

“Okay,” she said shakily, and he leaned in slowly, watching her face.

“You sure?” he said, pausing and sitting back a bit. “You don’t look like you—”

As she stared at Luka frowning with concern because he thought she didn’t want to kiss him, there was almost an audible snap in her head as the past settled back where it belonged and the now became sharp and clear. What the hell was she doing?

Marinette grabbed the front of Luka’s hoodie and dragged him forward. “Get over here,” she ordered, though the breathiness in her voice took a lot of the force out of it. It was enough, though, Luka closed the distance with a desperate little noise and their lips met once, twice, three times in hard, passionate kisses, before finally settling together into something softer but no less heated. The hand under her chin slid up to flatten along the side of her throat, and then slid farther back to curl around the back of her neck, Luka’s thumb brushing her jaw as he tilted her back. He was kissing her like—like—

Like he really did like her as much as she liked him, like he meant all those things he said to her, like he’d been thinking about it for a while now—

And he was really good at it, she acknowledged dizzily as his lips began coaxing hers to open.

But hell if she was going to let him run the show. She nipped his lower lip and he startled slightly. Grinning in the small space that granted her, Marinette wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled the other free from his hand to grab the back of the couch and pull, forcing him back as she straightened and rolled up to her knees so that he was the one with his head tilted back, and only then did she part her lips and slide her tongue into his mouth, hands moving to hold his face at just the right angle. The strangled noise he made and the way he grabbed at her hips was very satisfying. It felt so good to get some payback after all the time she’d spent agonizing over her crush on him. She wasn’t even sure he was aware of the way his hands were scrabbling against her, trying to pull her into his lap.

She broke the kiss, laughing when he tried to follow her to prolong it. “Easy, we still have to go back in public after this,” she teased, and Luka groaned, letting his head fall back against the bench.

“Fuck me,” he muttered breathlessly, and Marinette snorted, leaning against him.

“What kind of girl do you think I am?” she scoffed, and Luka’s eyes flew open.

“No, no, God, no, I didn’t mean, I wouldn’t—”

Marinette let him stammer for another few moments out of pure revenge for all those times he had grinned at her while she tripped over her tongue, before she leaned in and kissed him, softly this time. “Shut up and put yourself back together, Viperion, we still have an awards ceremony to get through.”

“ Shit. ” Luka let go of her and covered his face with his hands. “I’m gonna need a minute.”

Marinette put her hand over her mouth and tried not to laugh but she couldn’t help it. She was just so happy. Luka dropped his hands and grinned at her, reaching out to snag her around the waist and pull her close, kissing her even as she continued to laugh, pure joy singing from her soul as she pretended to dodge him. He planted kisses on her jaw and her neck as she squealed and tried half-heartedly to wriggle away before giving up and turning to kiss him again on the mouth, and then again, and then again, slow, deep kisses.

“What?” she asked as Luka chuckled against her mouth.

“Nothing,” he sighed, nudging his nose against hers. “Just feeling lucky I guess. I’m so happy, Marinette.”

Marinette smiled, but they did need to be getting back, so she pushed his hands away for real and slid off the couch.

She bit her lip in amusement when Luka whined, leaning his elbows on the back of the couch and letting his head hang back. “Do we have to?” he groaned. “I really hate ceremonies.”

“Yes,” Marinette grinned, grabbing his hand and pulling him up off the couch. “I want to see you up there, right in the number two spot where you belong.”

“Oh, low,” Luka laughed, dragging his feet as she tugged him towards the door. “Wait, wait.” He pulled his hand free and turned back to grab their water. “Never leave evidence behind,” he said, handing her one of the bottles with a wink. “Especially not evidence with lipstick stains.”

Marinette giggled. “Wait, is that why you—”

“No comment,” Luka said, cheeks reddening as he threw the incriminating evidence in the hallway’s recycling bin.

They weren’t very sneaky coming back down the stairs, giggling and snuggling and nearly tripping more than once because they were standing too close together.

When they emerged into the full light of the hallway outside of the lounge, Luka looked at Marinette and smirked. “Hey Ladybug.”

“Hmm?” Marinette raised her eyebrows.

Luka leaned in and kissed her until they were both breathless. “Fix your lipstick,” he whispered against her lips, and laughed as Marinette cursed and jerked back, slapping a hand over her mouth. Her red lipstick had held up to the relatively innocent kisses backstage, but now it was smeared all over his mouth, blended with the peach he’d been wearing, and her face couldn’t possibly look any better. Luka burst out laughing at her expression, and Marinette began to giggle again too.

“Here, I have some wipes,” he managed to say at last, pulling a packet of makeup remover wipes from his back pocket. “Let me help.”

“You should, since it was your fault,” Marinette shot back, taking the packet from him and pulling a wipe free. She pouted as Luka snatched it back from her fingers, but she didn’t really mean it, and she let him take her chin in his hand and tilt her face up.

“I’m not even sorry,” Luka chuckled, eyes on her lips as he gently wiped away the smears. “I’ll buy you a better brand.” He winked, and then his humor settled into a quiet contentment that shone in his face. “That was pretty amazing, Marinette. I hope we can do it again sometime soon. Maybe I could take you out to dinner and—”

“Marinette!” Max called, bursting out of the doors down the hall and looking around for a moment before spotting them. His shoulders slumped in relief. “There you are! You weren’t answering your phone, I was getting concerned. It’s almost time.”

Luka winced, going to work quickly on his own face. “Busted,” he murmured, and Marinette could hear the laughter in his voice.

Marinette snorted. “Like he didn’t already know. He’s been teasing me about you since we met.” She raised her voice and called, “We’re coming.” She took Luka’s hand and tugged him along with her back to the doors where Max was waiting.

Max adjusted his glasses and looked at his phone. “We’re due for the ceremony in two minutes and forty-five seconds.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” Marinette smiled. “I’m good to go, I just need to grab my makeup bag and fix my lipstick.”

Luka made a noise that sounded suspiciously like choked laughter, but Marinette didn’t look at him, squeezing his hand tight enough that he winced.

“Oh, you left it on the drink table earlier, I picked it up for you,” Max said, pulling her lipstick tube out of his pocket and coming down the hallway to meet him. “It looks good to me, though, are you sure you want to take the time?”

Luka coughed into his hand, obviously trying not to laugh, but Max didn’t even glance at him.

“It’ll only be a second,” Marinette said, taking the tube from him. She opened it and paused as they reached the doors, using her reflection in the window to apply her lipstick over her naturally reddened lips. She could see Luka over her shoulder finger-combing his hair back into place. She capped the tube and handed it to Luka with a wink. “Hold onto it for me? I have a feeling I might need it again later.”

“Sure,” Luka grinned, and reached around her to pull the door open. “Just find me whenever you’re ready to need a touch up.”

It was Marinette’s turn to choke on a laugh, while Max threw Luka a slightly puzzled glance, but clearly dismissed his odd phrasing in favor of ushering them all back into the ceremony. Marinette grinned. Max might think he’s all worldly, but when he’s focused on something he doesn’t notice anything.

***

They made it through the awards ceremony and almost an hour of the afterparty, accepting congratulations and fistbumps and handshakes and ribbing (mostly good-natured, some not so much, but Marinette had never cared less in her life than she did at that moment). Then someone on the game committee stood up to make a speech and Marinette saw her opportunity. She grabbed the lapel of Luka’s hoodie and tugged lightly. He met her gaze and grinned, following her pull willingly.

She ducked into a shadowed hall, pulling him just beyond the light from the party, and as soon as she leaned back against the wall he was bending over her, though the kiss he laid on her lips was soft and gentle and over much too quickly.

“Sorry,” he murmured, with a lopsided grin. “That was kind of presumptuous I guess.”

Marinette grabbed the lapels of his hoodie and pulled him in for another soft kiss. “Maybe. I don’t mind though.”

“I really like you, Marinette,” Luka said, one hand finding her hip while the other leaned on the wall beside her. “In case I didn’t make that clear before. Not just kissing you, though, for the record, I really like that too, but. You. It’s you.”

Marinette smiled, a happy flutter in her stomach making her wiggle a bit. “You should probably know I’ve had a massive crush on you for weeks,” she admitted shyly, still holding on to his hoodie.

Luka’s grin got wider, his eyes lighting up. “Yeah? Weeks?”

Marinette pouted at him. “Don’t lie, you knew.”

Luka chuckled and looked away. “Maybe. I just...I didn’t know what to do with it for a while. I didn’t want to lead you on if I wasn’t...but then I was, and...” He looked back at her and grinned slowly. “Just weeks, huh?”

Marinette shrugged, looking somewhere over his left shoulder. “Weeks. Months. Something like that.” She twirled her finger in the string of his hoodie, still not quite looking at him. “So I’m maybe not at all opposed to—presumption.”

“That’s, um…” He was clearly trying to keep his smile under control, but it wasn’t working. The grin on his face was rapidly crossing into idiotic. Marinette giggled. “That’s really good to hear,” he continued, “because I’ve been getting really stupid over you really fast since we started working together, so...I’m kinda glad you got a head start. It’s actually really flattering coming from a girl like you.”

Marinette frowned slightly. “A girl like me?

Luka gave her an amused look. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, Marinette, but you’re kind of a catch.”

Marinette blinked at him, startled, and Luka buried his face in her shoulder to muffle his laughter. “Oh my God, you really hadn’t noticed. You’re so damn cute.”

“Cute!” Marinette huffed indignantly, but Luka lifted his face from her shoulder and nudged his nose against hers with a low chuckle that made her shiver.

“Adorable,” he told her, with so much affection that she couldn’t be offended. “Also really, seriously hot, which, I don’t even know how you manage to do both of those at once, but—” He cleared his throat. “Can I—”

“Yes,” Marinette giggled, tugging on his hoodie, and he bent, closing his eyes and kissing her with a slow heat that made her weak. She slid her hands up his firm chest and over his shoulders until they met behind his neck, savoring the pleased noise he made. Luka broke from her mouth and laid soft kisses along her jaw.

“When can I see you again?” he asked, his voice so deep it was practically a growl, and Marinette shivered again. Luka cocked his head slightly. “You okay?”

“I, um,” Marinette bit her lip. “I really like your voice,” she admitted in a rush.

“Yeah?” That idiotic grin was growing on his face again and she was rapidly falling in love with it, with the way that he looked at her…

With him. She was falling pretty hard for him. And her only consolation was that he seemed to be tumbling head over heels along with her. The idea of loving someone who loved her back was...heady, to say the least. Not even the most euphoric moments of her ill-fated pining compared to this.

“Marinette?” he prompted, nudging his nose against hers. “I’m serious. I really want to see you again soon.”

She kissed him again, just because he was so close. He chased her when she would have ended it, and she smiled against his lips before letting him coax her into a much longer, deeper kiss.

“Wednesday?” she said, when he finally drew back.

“Hm?” he blinked slightly glazed eyes and Marinette giggled. She straightened up off of the wall and leaned into him instead, fingers sliding up to play with the short hair at the nape of his neck.

“Wednesday,” she repeated. “You can pick me up at seven. Bring your guitar, you promised to play for me again.”

“I did,” he agreed, voice dipping low again as his hand slid around to the small of her back. “I can’t wait.”

“Bring your A-game,” she told him. “I expect to be swept off my feet. But come hungry and plan somewhere light for dinner because my parents will freak when I tell them I have a boyfriend. There will definitely be appetizers. There might be cake. Maybe even a souffle. You tell Papa his rematch will have to wait though because I’m not sharing you this time.”

The dopey grin returned. “I’m your boyfriend?”

Marinette blinked, and then blushed hotly, which both made him grin wider and limited her ability to play it off, but she did her best. “You’re on trial. Think you can handle it?”

“Oh, definitely,” he chuckled, and that dopey grin turned into the pirate grin that always made her melt. “The question is, can you?”

“Oh that’s how it is,” Marinette managed, raising her eyebrows.

“Yeah,” he murmured, freeing one hand to slip it behind her neck and tilt her face up. “That's how it is. So you let me know when you’re convinced.” His lips descended on hers and his body pressed hers in the wall and by the time he was done kissing her Marinette was pretty thoroughly convinced.

Not that she planned to admit it anytime soon.

She was pretty sure she was going to like this game.

#quickspins #killer combo #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #gamer au #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #ml fics

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