#i only realized that after i copy/pasted everything so oops

[todayisafridaynight]

Of course! I'm glad my Unmitigated Braindumping has given you more opportunities to talk about them at length I never know where to start myself, so I'm very thankful for the jumping-off point that first post provided (and that many of your posts provide!) This has been a wonderful experience. (Also, uh, since these "bookends" work for more personal stuff--I am No Longer Sick and I'm happy to hear you seem to be doing a bit better!)

Reading it over, I figure the event transcript itself is okay to share, so here it is on my test wiki! It's, well, it's about the same length as this ask will probably end up, and it's a "sequel" to his first event. A thing I really like about Mine's RGGO content is that It's All Connected; the narratives continue to build upon each other to this day. That's not the case for almost any other character.

And totally! With Mine in specific, I feel there's enough reductiveness on "both sides" regarding his sexuality and regarding Daigo that trying to put forward any particular stance would be detrimental on top of the reasons we've discussed. It's probably a bit weird to say this about a fictional character, but Mine's a whole person independent of the men in his life, y'know?

I actually fell for the red herring with Katase myself until the Kanda scene we talk about below haha, so I guess that's fair enough on your friend's part. Definitely the case that the ending makes it clear that's not how it is, though.

Mine's interactions with women are always fascinating to me, especially in contrast to Kanda as you mentioned, but also in contrast to the main series protagonists. Just the way he immediately drops everything to help the woman Kanda attempts to assault when he and Kanda first meet almost on instinct says a lot to me when almost every protagonist occasionally acts like it's an inconvenience to Them to intervene.

I'd say a lot of it comes from growth on the writers' parts in terms of understanding that, hey, being totally complacent in Kanda's actions is scummy. So I appreciate that Mine is by far the one who does the most to minimize Kanda's harm (up to and including having him killed, of course, but also getting him arrested in that event as well as physically stopping him--and apparently dozens of others, since every woman who picks him up in that event is apparently a woman he saved lmao.)

I feel like Mine, when mentally stable, has this almost "chivalrous" quality to him. I'm kind of reminded of Hijikata as well in that they both insist on calling every younger woman they meet "miss"; it's a little old-fashioned, perhaps condescending, but still kind of cute (biased though lol, the ratios on those three things may vary.) There's a lot I want to talk about on this topic with regard to Hijikata, the historical account, and other "definitive" Shinsengumi media, but I'll probably save that for another ask.

But on Mine and relationships, there's so much to unpack there! The old joke is absolutely applicable. And because he was talking about how he's "never 'picked anyone up' in his life" in that event, agreeing to all these "dates" but never enthusiastically (I think the one and only time he didn't seem actively unhappy was in the finale to the accompanying card's character story), I do wonder to what degree his passivity would play a role in other romantic encounters. Agreeing to whatever those women wanted whether he really wanted it himself.

Rewinding to Katase a bit, while that was obviously not romantic, I think the interaction in the finale could perhaps provide insight as to a problem he may face in romantic relationships. Which is his refusal (or inability) to be emotionally honest while sort of expecting the other party to be perfectly attuned to his emotions.

Because like, I don't think Katase /didn't/ care about him whatsoever, I think she just took his "I'm fine"(s) at face-value and took a "business as usual" approach without realizing how much that would upset him in his current state. I would be mortified in her position if I called up my boss on an urgent matter and he said he was "fine" and then just completely stopped responding before hanging up lol, especially upon learning he committed suicide shortly thereafter.

But that interaction is (or appears to be) something he emotionally experienced as a "betrayal" despite being totally unintentional, so I have to wonder how much of a pattern it is in his life; he's been concealing his real problems and saying he was """fine""" since he was a kid, after all. I obviously can't say anything conclusive, but it "feels like" there's something there with the way he sort of lumped in the women he's been with with his coworkers when talking about how "they'll all abandon ship sooner or later" or whatever.

Like, I don't doubt that some (or perhaps many) women would like him for shallow reasons, but all of them…? Hm. Not Sure. That said, there's definitely an argument to be made he was seeing hostesses and sex workers (seeing him talk to a hostess is one of my top 10 reasons for wanting him to be a protagonist at some point tbh), but I guess there's also an argument to made that those types of relationships are overtly "fake" and "paid-for" and so wouldn't appeal to him? I wish we actually got to see some of that when Kanda took him to cabaret clubs.

And hey, you're totally right about Aoki's secretary! That was something that stood out to me as well. Her screen-time is roughly comparable to Katase iirc, so it's puzzling. Jo's leftover files really are such an enigma, because everyone's got unused voice lines and stuff (and they're still interesting to listen through for "another dimension" to the characters you don't get to see in-game), but there's so much that's Unique to him. I can only hope some of those ideas are explored elsewhere.

Kanda's insult is a lot of fun to examine for the exact reasons you mentioned, because on the surface and in a literal sense, the translation is "off the mark"--but is it? I'm not sure how much crossover there is between cultures in this regard, but I know when I came out as bisexual to my family, there were a lot of accusations thrown around that I'd become "too Westernized." It's definitely something I'd like to ask native speakers about if I can get over the embarrassment; perhaps if that's no help, one of my books or papers on LGBT issues in Japan might have an answer.

I'm definitely under the impression that both localization teams understood Mine wasn't straight. I might be a little bit biased with regard to the original, since, like I said, that was actually the scene I began to "suspect" Mine was gay lmao. But there was an effort to maintain accuracy in the finale even if the wording is superseded by Y3R's intensity. In that respect I kind of wonder about the reason for the change, because it addresses the homophobia but not the inaccuracy.

Right! I do give Mine some credit for attempting to be cautious with Kanda and Daigo, of course. It does seem like his misanthropy (or his tendency to spiral into it when things go wrong, anyway) has a lot to do with his guardedness. And he definitely does have a tendency to look to the future to the detriment of his ability to consider the present (or even that the future might not turn out exactly as he predicts). "The pinnacle of hindsight bias" is the perfect way to put it.

I think that's very much evident in how much of his mental state hinges on things he takes for granted. He'll finally be happy now that he has Daigo to dedicate his life to, because of course Daigo will be around forever (spoilers: he won't.) He'll finally be happy now that he can take over the Tojo, because of course the Tojo will both accept him without a fuss and be around forever (spoilers: it won't).

But I very much agree this is exactly the sort of thing that makes him such a captivating and relatable character! It's been a lot of fun exploring that side of him with you, just as it's been a lot of fun exploring the Arakawas. Of course, I would also be interested in your take on Arakawa and femininity whenever you're feeling up to it.

It was no trouble, thank you so much for taking the time to watch my recommendations! Also gave me the push to get started on Hero with a friend and am excited to see how much that changes my perception of the special! Tsugaru's very much got things going on and I'm excited for the rewatch. Eventually! I honestly have no idea where I stopped watching Pure haha, but I recall wondering if her dependence on her family would just end up being transferred onto Toru, so I'm glad that's not the case at least.

I really appreciate the vote of confidence regarding examining the localization further! That means a lot to me. I think it was especially worth emphasizing Jo and Ikumi's youth because both dubs make the somewhat odd choice to have Jo voiced by the same actor (whereas teen Arakawa is given a different actor), and the model doesn't really have the same wide-eyed innocence Tsutsumi did when he was younger.

I did notice Tsutsumi's performance was much more animated than for Jo as an adult though, and it was a lot more "obvious" when he was saying things he didn't mean, so I appreciate the effort to make up for it in terms of Tsutsumi's acting and probably-Yokoyama's direction.

It's probably hard to believe these days haha, but if anything, people were significantly more vicious towards Arakawa than towards Jo at launch. It just got to be too much to take after a while, especially because I had to see it from ~mutuals~ too. Like you guys know that man's my namesake and that I can see what you're saying, but you're not even going to tone it down a little bit? Okay I Guess.

It felt really aimless to me, because it was like, what, "betraying" Ichi? Having a "weak" "redemption?" I'm not going to say Arakawa Did Nothing Wrong, and I'm sure even he would never be satisfied with whatever he tried to do to make it up to Ichi (he never was when it came to Masato), but he Kind Of Died before he had the chance. Sometimes that's how it is, but Ichi was always going to forgive him.

Of course I should be happy people loved Ichi enough to feel so protective over him, and I kind of am, but I can't fully put my experiences aside either. I don't want to harp on all that too much now that things are looking better though lol.

All of that aside, I'm glad Princess Toyotomi was an enjoyable enough experience! Although it's not as direct as Honnouji Hotel, I think there are still some time-bending aspects with reincarnation and such that history buffs can enjoy. For example, Matsudaira was Tokugawa Ieyasu's family name, and Sanada was the name of a samurai he respected greatly although they were on opposing sides. And of course, the Sanadas as a whole served as vassals to Toyotomi (after the Honnouji incident, coincidentally, haha.)

Chako was also named after the mother of Toyotomi's heirs, so I suppose one could have seen that coming if they were aware of that, but I really, really wanted Daisuke to be the princess too! She (and Sanada's acceptance of her) were very much one of my favorite things about the movie as a whole. I appreciate that, whenever I've seen transgender identities and gender non-conformity come up in Nakai and Tsutsumi's works, that's generally how it goes. Most of their works tend to narratively align with their viewpoints in real life so it's cool.

Speaking of, family issues are very much a pattern in Tsutsumi's characters! Most of what I could say here is a bit spoiler-y, so I won't, but I hope you'll notice more as you go on to experience other roles.

I was hoping to reply to the other asks here, but that got to be Too Hot To Handle (read: way too long), so I'll section them off into a different ask (that you'll probably end up seeing before this one haha). Hopefully they're a bit easier to respond to separately as well. Thank you for your time, and sorry to take up so much of it!

I love how all of Mine’s stories are connected, it feels like some sort of atonement for the fact that Mine wasn’t going to be RGGO’s main protagonist anymore: if we can’t have him in a brand new story, then we can at least make up for it by having multiple prologue stories line up together. HUGE huge thank you for sharing this with me, it was an absolute honor to be able to read this!

It’s incredibly interesting to see Mine and his line of thinking in this story. At the end of Y3, Mine practically explodes with anger towards the people who betrayed him back then, yet with Tashiro he’s almost entirely the opposite. I guess in this particular situation though, Mine managed to find an optimistic outcome of that deceit: because Mine was booted from his company, he was able to find the thing he really wanted with the Tojo Clan. I can’t explain it properly, but that’s a sweet mentality for Mine to have honestly considering his displeasure with the society around him: something terrible happened to him (and Tashiro even tried to worsen the wound), but having been able to make the most out of the situation, he was almost prepared to let Tashiro go unpunished (I suppose this ties back into Mine’s whole thing of not striking unless attacked first). As a final small note on the story and translation, I love the sprinkle of French in his dialogue. As we’d talked about before, it’s just small details like that that help enhance his Westernism and I appreciate it immensely.

I totally agree on Mine being his own man/character and wanting to focus on that! That’s something I’m always worried about when I post honestly, as weird as that might seem. It’d be ridiculous for me to try to deny relationships between characters are some of my favorite aspects of RGG, but I also try to highlight the characters on their own. The reason why examining the relationships in RGG is so fun is because of how the characters are by themselves, and ergo the type of characters they become when put with others/how certain qualities of their characters become enhanced when in a (any sort of) relationship. In that, relationships help deepened characters, but they definitely shouldn’t be reduced to ONLY the relationships they have.

As for Mine’s relationship with women in RGGO stories, that’s an aspect of Mine I adore too, and I agree on the whole ‘address women as ‘miss’’ bit: it is old fashioned and potentially condescending, but the over-polite nature of it is endearing all the same to me personally. Just in general, Mine’s very polite and I feel like that’s a detail that’s overlooked at times, but it’s a detail I love all the same. Moreover, Mine generally being- at the very least- a decent person does remind me of Hijikata now that you mention it (despite his scary reputation, apparently almost all personal accounts with him only ever said nice things about him and how amiable he was), not to mention the virtuous nature of kirins, to go back to his original symbol. To extend on that, it does just solidify that Mine is a kirin at heart: he respects the people who haven’t done anything wrong or egregious, but he’s harsh on the people who do injustice (and even then, his tolerance is incredibly high. Back to the subject of when Mine first meets Kanda, he doesn’t punish Kanda for acting inappropriately with the woman, he only engages in a fight with him to get his attention. I appreciate that Mine still wanted to make sure the woman he helped was alright though, making sure she was able to walk first before putting his full attention back to Kanda).

I agree that Mine probably doesn’t pursue relationships himself and more so lets them come to him (especially if the ending of that Okinawa story where Mine’s approached by a woman on the beach is any indication or hint at his past relationships), and I especially agree that due to his closed-off nature, he ultimately jeopardizing any romantic partners he could have had. Ergo, I agree in that Katase shouldn’t be put at fault for dismissing Mine’s feelings (while we’re on the subject, I’ve always wanted to explore how Katase might have reacted to Mine’s death. I know she’s considerably an irrelevant character, but I can’t help but wonder how she might have felt and if she ever felt guilty for something she had no control over). I personally always live by the idea of saying what you mean, and as a result I don’t get upset with people if they can’t discern I’m not okay if I don’t tell them that. As for Mine, it’s painfully evident that’s now how he operates: he fully expects others to be on the same page as him, and as we see that becomes incredibly detrimental to him. It’s a consequence of his need to be independent, I believe: he’s become so focused on himself, he either isn’t comfortable with expressing the truth and relying on others emotionally, or he doesn’t know how to do it.

To expand on the hypotheticals of his past relationship, it really is hard to discern what ‘type’ of women he was entangled with (as in whether they were hostesses/sex workers or women he met naturally), and trying to find out which one is significant to understand the depth of his grievances. We know Mine isn’t fond of money- he understands it’s a tool to achieve what he wants, but it doesn’t make him happy (it wouldn’t be a stretch to even say it disgusts him in some aspects, or at least the greed it brings out of people turns him off). So would he seek out workers to get a sample of a human bond? But again, he’d know right at the start that bond would be artificial, so the only conclusion I can come to is that he really did have the capability to attract women on his own (or at least he didn’t have to ‘buy’ them, per say). And of course, the reason they didn’t work out could have been due in part to multiple reasons: women being with him only for shallow reasons, Mine’s inability to be sincere with others, potentially his sexuality, or maybe some mixture of these factors. Not all relationships are the same, after all. BUT this is all speculation at this point, and unfortunately I doubt we’ll get a concrete backstory on Mine’s relationships (but I do agree in being curious as to how he behaves around hostesses…)

I’m not overly versed on LGBT issues and terminology in the East, so I can’t say my input would be anything of much value. All I know is that- at least in the West as well- the concept of LGBT seems to be very ‘western’ for whatever reason (or at least, I see a lot of people get upset with Japanese franchises having LGBT elements and then claiming they’re ‘affected by the West’. Maybe it’s a two-way street for some). But yeah, all-in-all, it really is an interesting case of ‘technically this is wrong translation wise, but character wise it’s accurate’.

As for Mine and his tendency to be ‘short sighted’, that’s precisely how he operates! He very much has the mentality of ‘there’s no problem now, so don’t worry about it’, or at the very least he is very present-minded (outside of business endeavors, of course) and focuses on his happiness in the moment. I can’t fault him for that, though: again, it’s a very human trait to have, even if a little naive, so to say, but again it’s greatly compelling and relatable.

On to Jo though, it definitely was a weird choice to not have child Jo dubbed with a different actor- I know some boys can have deep voices by 15, but it really is jarring to watch and doesn’t help keep me in the mindset that they’re kids at the time. But you’re right in Tsutsumi’s effort to try and sound more youthful at least: it’s not perfect of course, but it’s definitely easier to discern that he’s supposed to be younger (and definitely fits better based on the interpretation the director might have wanted. For the Japanese dub, Jo sounds a lot more carefree about the situation and like he’s just ready to go home- like the circumstances are more of an annoyance than anything severe. Whereas in the English dub, Jo sounds more remorseful- or at least like he’s struggling with moving on from what happened. But that’s just my takeaway, of course).

About Arakawa’s negative reception though, on the surface I get it just from the premise of ‘Arakawa betrays Ichiban’. Even when I didn’t know anything about Y7 and I was just reading a quick summary of the game, I had a sour taste in my mouth after reading that part. BUT of course now I adore Arakawa. His methods were extreme and deadly, but it’s hard to come up with any alternatives for his situation (and it’s not as though he isn’t aware of the pain he put Ichiban through with his elaborate plan. It’s just another case of not everything a character does can be categorized as a purely good or purely evil action), and it’s unfortunate we didn’t get to see Arakawa try to make things up to Ichi after all they went through.

Onto Princess Toyotomi, I wish I was as much of a history buff for Japan as I am with American history: I love history so much, so I’m sure if I’d known these bits before watching I would’ve appreciated the movie and its details a whole lot more (not that I didn’t enjoy it of course, but having that context definitely would’ve been fun to notice while viewing)! It’s also sweet to hear that Nakai and Tsutsumi seem to be accepting of LGBT themes (I try not to look too deep into actors since I’m scared I’ll find terrible things and it’ll make viewing media they’re in awkward, but so far I’m glad that they appear to be decent guys)! On that note, I am absolutely excited to watch more Nakai and Tsutsumi works when I get the chance- I’m curious what you’re referring to when you talk about spoilers, but I’ll find that out seen enough I guess!

And I also have replies to your second ask, though I'll put it below the cut just to keep things separated and organized.

Whatever you decide to do, I’m sure it’ll turn out great (and if you ever need the tweet, I have it bookmarked and screenshotted- I can never be too certain on whether Twitter’s going to nuke a tweet nowadays…)! As for Masato though, I’d be absolutely surprised if he somehow survived. My reason to doubt as much were the funeral scenes, but with Mine- even if unlikely without repercussions- it’s not impossible to survive a fall from that height, so yeah RGG if you drop the confirmed He’s Fine I have no promises on being Not Annoying LMAO

In reference the nature of Jo and Arakawa’s relationship, I’m glad to have given you a chance to talk about their relationship further (it really is an awkward subject to navigate: it’s fair and reasonable to assume SOMETHING is there obviously, we just can’t put an exact label on it.)! And I am open to criticisms, whether that was the intent or not, otherwise I’m a fan of peer review and looking at notes on a subject together, so no worries!

I’ve always been a big fan of turn-based RPGs, so RGG’s push towards the genre’s been really fun to watch! Again, while you certainly can do storytelling through gameplay for action games, RPGs inherently being more story based definitely lend a hand in being able to inject smaller details better (especially in regards to attack/ability and weapon names that highlight aspects of a character)!

Thank you about my latest comic, it means the world that you enjoyed it despite how simple it is! It’s unfortunate I never draw Ichi since whenever I do, I always have fun with how different and expressive I make him (most of it’s due in part to wanting to make a homage to Akira Toriyama since if the gameplay of Y7’s going to be affected by Ichi’s love for Dragon Quest, then I might as well draw him with Toriyama in mind. But at this point, it’s just fitting to draw him so exaggerated)! And I definitely wouldn’t say your contribution was ‘small’, our back and forth’s were a pretty significant reason for me to have the energy and inspiration to draw the thing in full, so thank you again for chatting with me so much!

The subject of Hijikata and his poetry’s one of my favorite topics (if not majorly because according to people who read them, his poems weren’t all that good despite their famous nature nowadays), and I’m glad they managed to sneak in bits about him and in poetry in Ishin (like him reading in his room, and as you said, the quote at the end)! I can definitely see Mine wanting to thoroughly analyze Hijikata’s poetry just on the basis of being an art buff and wanting to extract as much meaning as he could from the writing (but again, considering the questionable quality of them, I can just as easily see pretty much everyone else looking at it without much regard lmao). On that note though, I’d be interested to see how the poems’ meaning ultimately become reworked in your vision!

Talking more about Ishin, Arakawa and Jo would have fit well with Kondo and Hijikata’s roles, I agree! Honestly, if it weren’t for Mine and how popular he is (which I’m infinitely grateful for, I shouldn’t have to say), it wouldn’t be hard for me to imagine Jo filling in his spot (especially if they were willing to swap in Zhao for Baba; they weren’t afraid to switch out RGG characters for other RGG characters. Though imaging Y7Jo having that slightly friendly air that Hijikata does definitely would have been… something to see lmao). Kondo was also considerably sneaky in Ishin too, wasn’t he? That definitely would have been a good fit for how lowkey Arakawa tries to keep things in Y7.

The complicated nature of Ichi and Jo’s relationship is such a neat subject. As you said, I’m sure part of Jo’s frustrations with Ichi lie in how Ichi’s seeming aloof nature reminds him of his own careless attitude as a kid: nothing like old-fashioned projection to make you irked by someone, right. On the note of Arakawa though, it will be interesting to see how they interact now that they aren’t technically ‘required’ to with Arakawa gone and there’s technically no more need to keep the peace. As I said in some ask ago, I do hope they have a more neutral bond come LaD8; I don’t think it’s reasonable to think they can ever be as close as Ichi and Arakawa are, especially how shut off Jo is, but it would be nice to see them more civil and relatively on the same page (maybe despite Arakawa being gone, they can at least appreciate his memory together right. Not that Jo seems too earnest to crack on sharing his personal feelings about Arakawa anytime soon, though, but maybe one day Ichi can convince him lmao).

Shifting a bit, I do wonder why Kiryu was responsible for making sure Jo was going to be alright. That seems so weirdly specific, especially when Kiryu doesn’t seem to have any connection with the Arakawa family. I hope Gaiden answers that question too!

And if you ever want to talk about Ryuji, feel free to write in about him! It’s been a while since I’ve focused on Y2’s story, but I at least remember his scenes well and I’m pretty solid on his character!

[infiniteeight8]

Fic Writer 20 Questions

Tagged by @sweaterkittensahoy

I have two AO3 accounts (infiniteeight and crimsonquills) because I switched pseuds due to a troll in a fandom like, 10 or 15 years ago. So for AO3 stats questions, first number is infiniteeight, second number is crimsonquills, total in parentheses. The crimsonquills number is misleading, though--only about half my works written under that pseud are uploaded.

How many works do you have on AO3? 426 + 235 (661)

What's your total AO3 word count? 584,163 + 721,769 (1,305,932)

What fandoms do you write for?

Currently, IronStrange (MCU), Steter (Teen Wolf), and LazyTown. I have a lot of formerly serious fandoms, and I've dabbled in even more. There are 21 listed on infiniteeight and 28 on crimsonquills, to give you an idea, and that's not a complete list.

Top Five Fics by Kudos

For infiniteeight AO3 handle (all of these are Clint/Coulson, which makes sense, since it's the biggest fandom I've been in for the past 12 years):

Trump Card 

Relief 

Made Omega 

A House is Not a Home 

Five People Who Flinched From Phil and the One Person Who Never Did

For my crimsonquills AO3 handle (this is a little misleading--I have some very popular stories on this handle that aren't on AO3, though I keep meaning to upload them):

Full Body Workout (Steve/Tony, comic Avengers)

A Meeting of Minds (Steve/Tony, comic Avengers)

Beneath the Armor  (Steve/Tony, comic Avengers)

A Light To Guide You (Obi-Wan/Qui-Gon, The Phantom Menace)

Doubts  (Steve/Tony, comic Avengers)

Good grief, only now have I realized that my most popular Man from UNCLE fic (The Mirror, Mirror Affair) is not on AO3! I was certain it was. It looks like *none* of my MFU fics are on AO3. Oops? I really have to fix that...

Do you respond to comments?

Yes! I went through a period where I was very sporadic about it, but now I reply to them all. I'm even going through and answering old comments that have been there, unanswered, for years. The responses I've gotten from folks receiving a reply anywhere from a few months to 8 years later have been lovely. :D

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Definitely no heartbeat detected (IronStrange, true Drabble). I don't normally write much angst, and when I do, it's always with a happy ending. But that one was a prompt.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I don't think I can actually pick one? Almost all of my fics have happy endings!

Do you get hate on fics?

Nope. Which surprises me, honestly, because I've written plenty of tropes that other people get hate for all the time.

Do you write smut?

Yes! In fact, before I started writing the daily ficlets, I was primarily known as a smut writer. Almost everything I wrote was smutty. I find it kid of amusing that the drabbles have changed that.

Craziest Crossover?

Has to be the Band of Brothers/Terminator crossover. It's only posted on my old livejournal, but I'll upload it to AO3 one day and just watch people goggle at it. LOL.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of. The closest that I know of is someone who copied the entire first chapter (or couple of chapters?) of one of my more popular fics and then took it in a totally different direction. I contacted them and they were apologetic--the meant to go back and rewrite the beginning once they were done with their version, but they never finished it. They put a note and an inspired by tag on it after I contacted them, and that was fine with me.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Many times! Translations are always welcome.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yup! A couple times, although it's not something I do regularly.

All time favorite ship?

Hmmm. Difficult question. Longest lasting active ship is Steter, but all time favorite? I think it might be Marcus Cole/Neroon (Babylon 5).

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

This is a weird question for me, because I don't really work on more than one thing at a time, except for brief pauses on epic fics to knock out something short. And if I start to lose steam on a story I'm writing, there's not really a "doubt" phase. I either believe I will finish it, or it gets trunked and I don't consider it a WIP anymore, because it is no longer "in progress", it's just abandoned.

What are your writing strengths?

Characterization! I've had many compliments in this area.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Visual description, definitely.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Peppering in other language words to remind me of a character's background and for flavour is useful, but writing entire sentences in another language knock me right out of the story. If I have to check a footnote or hover text to know what they're saying, I instantly lose immersion.

Other language text that you can figure out from context is better than footnotes, but in my experience people rarely do it well.

First fandom you wrote in?

Star Trek: The Next Generation. It was on paper (one of those yellow note pads), but I never shared it with anyone. First fandom I actually posted in might have been Star Trek: Voyager? Or possibly Stargate: SG1. I'm not actually sure which came first. I have the stories (I think), but they aren't dated.

Favorite fic you've written?

Oh, gosh, I'm not sure. Maybe Patterns (Marcus/Neroon)? I've written better stories and more popular ones, but I have a soft spot for that one.

Tags (very optional): @airas-story. Um, anyone else? I am bad at remembering people.

[geddy-leesbian]

(screenshot because I accidentally hit post while trying to copy paste something and had to delete it oops)

GOD THE LEON ONE IS SO FUCKED UP CHSBSNALFLF

first off, the timeline is different than the actual game. Luis is able to get some suppressant for Leon before any shit gets burned.

Luis gets captured again, and taken to Saddler. He had injected all the suppressants he had with him just before getting carried off, so Saddler couldn't re-infect him. But it turns out that isn't even Saddler's plan.

“That Agent Kennedy is proving to be quite a thorn in my side, much like you. I need him to live long enough for him to appreciate his gift and go home to spread it to the rest of the world, but he's starting to cause too much trouble. You like him, don't you?” “This isn't about him. Say whatever you want about me, but keep his name out of your mouth.” “But you'll want to hear this. He's quite fond of you. He doesn't want to admit it, but I've been in his head. He likes it when you tease him. He trusts you. You could send him on wild goose chases over and over, and he'd keep following you until time ran out.” “No. Never.” “It doesn't have to just be wild goose chases. Doesn't he owe you a dance? If you were to tell him that he had more time than expected, that he needed a break to relax before moving on, he would listen.” “You really think that I'm that selfish? That I'm willing to trade his life for mine? That I'm willing to trade his life for a dance?”

“Do you really think that you're not? You already chose your life over his. He doesn't have any suppressant. You used all of it on yourself, just so that you couldn't be re-infected. If you were willing to die for him, that was the time. Had you left all of it behind and accepted your own fate, he would have enough time to escape with his life and mind intact.”

Then he gets handed over to Krauser, who is pissy and a lot less concerned about Leon staying alive. So he gives him an ear piece, puts a tracker on him, chains him up again somewhere and says that he can either call Leon to come rescue him and Leon won't get hurt, or Krauser will abandon Saddler's plan and use Luis as the bait in a trap for Leon. (And ofc beyond that point he says he'll kill Leon if Luis isn't cooperating with the plan, and brags about being the one who taught Leon everything to the extent that Luis is actually worried.)

Luis just plays along, thinking that he'll be able to outsmart Krauser and somehow get Leon to the machine. Then Krauser sends him some pictures: His machine completely smashed, as well as everything being set on fire. It's 100% impossible to save Leon, and he breaks down sobbing and admits everything.

Leon's already made peace with the fact that it was a matter of when, not if, he'll die on a mission, so he's pretty chill about the whole thing and just asks Luis to kill him before his infection gets too bad 🙃

-

DON'T WALK AWAY is angsty but not that fucked up. it all started one night when I was listening to one of my many Serrennedy playlists, and forgot to loop it so after the last song spotify decides to autoplay Don't Walk Away. a song that I had never had any strong feelings about. but then I realized I'm a Fool because it is so Serrennedy and I've been sleeping on it

I know just what you're doing. You don't want to put the hurt on someone. You've been trying to convince yourself you're better off if you just turn and run.

But I'm gonna hold on tight. I've got a feeling you'll only happen once to me. And no one, not even you, is ever gonna make you wrong for me.

Don't walk away! Or are you looking for a price to pay? Is that your master plan? Don't walk away! I'll do everything to make you stay. I've got to make a stand. Don't walk away! I'm not afraid. Don't walk away!

so yeah the fic is just right after RE4 when Leon and Ashley are waiting to get picked up, and Luis is trying to slip away because he thinks he's a shitty person who doesn't deserve Leon, and Leon's like fuck that you're coming with me

[aidanchaser]

Thank you @mlsecretsanta​ for organizing such a fun exchange and all the hard work you put into making sure the event went off without a hitch. It’s always the work we don’t see that makes the work more fun for everyone, so thank you so much!

I got @lynnimaybe​ as my giftee! Your prompts were so overwhelming in the best way. I had to do everything in my power not to let this fic snowball into a 50k+ series. Instead it’s only 12k and 3 chapters. Much more manageable. Merry Christmas! I hope you enjoy it.

Thank you to @aliblujay​ for a wonderful beta read. Excellent help with tense and pluralization.

Rating: T Word Count: 12k Giftee Tags: Ladybug/Chat Noir, Felix/Lila, Chloe/Kagami (intended but never explicitly stated oops but it’s real I promise), Hurt/Comfort, Fluff/Angst, Home from University Internships, minor s5 spoilers (I haven’t seen s5, but I reference a couple of things I’ve picked up on just from being on tumblr) Additional Tags: Alya/Nino, Identity Reveal, Christmas Presents, Post-Hawk Moth Defeat, New Villains, College-Aged

Read on Ao3: The Distance Between

Read on Tumblr below

Chapter 1

Marinette rereads the message three times to make sure it’s appropriate before she copies it out of her notes app and pastes it into her messages.

I’m almost home from New York and wondered if you wanted to meet up while I’m here.

After her third read, she decides that it’s too personal, too much pressure on him. She tries again.

Did you decide on your plans for Christmas?

But she reads this one twice before realizing it offers nothing. It’s too casual.

My parents would love to have you over on Christmas if you’re not doing anything else.

That’s better. It’s not about her, so it can’t be too forward. And it’s not too much pressure, she hopes. She may not have asked her parents if Adrien can join them for Christmas just yet, but she knows they would be appalled if she hadn’t said anything, rather than surprised that she had.

She searches the crowded Metro car around her for something to distract her, but even making silly smiles at a toddler peering at her over his mother’s shoulder isn’t enough to keep her anxiety from spiraling. Because she can’t stop wondering, what if Adrien says no?

And, perhaps even worse, what if he says yes?

And his reply, which is neither, is somehow the worst:

Thank you.

And nothing else.

Marinette quickly exits the message to type a response in her notes before she dares put it in the messages. She has regretted too many texts to take the risk of actually sending what she’s thinking.

I just thought My parents like you were concerned that you’d be alone. I’d like to see you too, even if you’re not available on Christmas. Even if you’re not available on Christmas, it’d be great to see you before I go back to New York. I miss you. We should catch up.

Marinette rereads it one more time. It’s casual, comfortable, and a little condescending. She edits out the “alone” part of the message to My parents and I would like to see you. That’s better, short, simple, to the point. No pressure. Not too intimate. Not too much of anything.

She copies, pastes, and sends.

The Metro comes to a stop and Marinette slides her phone into her purse. Though it isn’t quite as bad as rush hour in New York, Marinette directs her full attention on getting in and out of the Metro safely. The crowds are thinner, but everyone is burdened with holiday packages, and Marinette has taken too many spills across stone and tile alike to risk losing focus.

But as she climbs the stairs, her phone buzzes in her pocket and she very nearly goes sprawling. The handrail saves her. She waits until she is safely on flat ground again before desperately digging her phone out of her pocket.

I’d like to see you, too. Glad you had a safe trip home.

Marinette’s heart thumps loudly. He wants to see her.

She types It was a safe trip, but a long one! I haven’t had to spend the night in an airport before, but I wasn’t going to risk missing my spot on any waiting lists after they canceled my first flight out of New York. They really wanted me to check my bag, but I was not going to risk your present getting lost in transit. into her notes app, but she doesn’t dare send it all. It sounds like a conversation, and Adrien’s been so hard to draw into a conversation ever since his father’s arrest.

Instead she sends, Hope you made it home safe from Venice? She doesn’t want to overwhelm him with herself and her own problems, but she wants to know he’s okay.

When she arrives at her parents’ bakery, her phone buzzes and she pauses, hand halfway to the door handle, to read his text.

Got in last night.

She doesn’t have time to open her notes app to draft a reply before she is swarmed by a bone-crushing hug and lifted off her feet with such force she assumes its her father. But the high-pitched squeal that accompanies the hug means it can only be one person: Alya.

Marinette squeals back and hugs her best friend as tightly as she can. As Alya sets her down, she sees Nino standing just behind her, arms spread wide. Marinette hugs him, too.

“What, no scream for me?” he grins.

“You know I missed you,” she says and kisses his cheek.

And though Marinette has a million questions for Alya and Nino, she has to say hello to her parents first.

The bakery is swarmed with customers, as it always is on Christmas Eve. Marinette had planned to get into Paris yesterday afternoon so she could help with the sales, but holiday travel plans are a terrible thing, especially internationally.

Despite the booming business of the day, her parents hold her long enough to ask her about her internship; she gives them all the positive updates. She asks them about news at home; they tell her about all the local gossip that filtered through the bakery doors: André is finally retiring his ice cream stand, Chloé Bourgeois has a girlfriend, and Kitty Section is going on tour again next year.

And finally, just as she’s reaching for an apron to help, her mother shoos her upstairs. “You must be exhausted; you’re not working after all that travel.”

“Twenty-four hours in an airport?” her father adds. “Absolutely not. Straight to bed with you.”

Marinette protests that she slept on the plane, but her parents are uninterested. She is sent away to rest.

Marinette, however, is not going to bed. She’ll get there, eventually, but first she has to talk with Alya and Nino away from where her parents can hear.

Her friends follow her upstairs, and as soon as Nino closes the trapdoor to Marinette’s childhood bedroom, Marinette is swarmed by the kwamis of the miracle box. Their squeal of excitement rivals Marinette and Alya’s.

“I missed you guys, too,” she assures them with a laugh, and takes a minute to nuzzle Tikki’s cheek in particular. Once the excitement from the reunion has settled down, Marinette turns back to Nino and Alya. “You really don’t have any news?”

Alya shakes her head. “Six months and no signs.”

“Nothing about the peacock or the butterfly miraculouses,” Nino frowns. He doesn’t mention the miraculous of destruction, but surely that’s been as fruitless a search, too. She stalks the Ladyblog for updates about their radio silent friend or the missing kwamis, though she knows Alya would text her anything before it made it to the blog.

“We’re sorry, Marinette,” Alya says. “We really thought we’d have something for you by now.”

“It’s all right. You’ve done your best.” She falls back onto her bed, suddenly bereft of any desire to unpack her things. The kwamis jump down beside her, a tumble of soft fur and static electricity.

“How’s the city treating Scarabella and Carapace?” she asks.

“It’s fine,” Nino says. “Everyone misses Ladybug and Chat Noir, but they like us well enough.”

“Not that there’s much for us to do,” Alya sighs. “Saving kittens from trees and helping people cross the road—you know, normal hero things. No villains to fight.”

“Which is a good thing,” Nino points out.

Alya shrugs.

Marinette runs her finger along the stitches in her pink comforter. She doesn’t know which is harder to bear: that the peacock and butterfly miraculouses are still lost after all the work she and Chat went through to save them or that Chat has really quit being a hero.

Six months ago, they faced Monarch, formerly Shadow Moth, formerly Hawk Moth. Six months ago, they learned that Monarch was Gabriel Agreste. Six months ago, Gabriel Agreste was arrested and Ladybug and Chat Noir were lauded as heroes.

The butterfly miraculous, however, had vanished, and the peacock along with it.

Once it was over, Ladybug and Chat Noir sat in their favorite spot atop the Eiffel Tower and watched the sun rise over the city. For Ladybug, it was a wonderful new beginning. Yes, things were unfinished, but Monarch had stalked them for so long. This still felt like a victory.

But Chat Noir was quiet, somber.

“Do you think…” Ladybug paused to evaluate her question, then plunged ahead despite her misgivings. “Do you think with Monarch gone, it might be safe to tell each other our identities?”

She expected it would cheer him up. She thought that, after four years of working together and him begging to know the truth, he would be thrilled to hear her offer it. And she was desperate to know him truly, even against her better judgment.

But instead he drew his knees tighter against his chest. “I don’t think I’m ready,” he said.

“O-oh, okay.”

“I… might need a break from this.”

“Oh.”

And that was the last time they spoke.

With no villain in Paris and an internship offer in New York waiting for her response, Marinette finally gave into Alya’s plan and handed over the earrings. Alya promised to be the best pinch hitter for Ladybug there would ever be, and swore that she’d recover the missing miraculouses by the time Marinette returned.

Alya pulls her earrings out and hands them to Marinette. “Sorry I couldn’t fix it all for you.”

Marinette hesitates. “No, Alya, they’re yours now—”

“Oh, you’re giving them back,” Alya grins and forces the earrings into her hands, “but I thought you might want a turn before you go back to New York.”

She does miss being Ladybug, and she has missed having Tikki nearby, but it won’t be the same without Chat Noir. “I could take Mullo instead. The three of us could still go out together.”

Alya snaps the Fox Pendant around her neck. “I had better take Trixx out before he gets himself into trouble.”

Trixx flies in an excited circle around Alya’s head. “Yes! Let’s go!”

“Not right now,” Alya laughs. “But we will get in a few runs as Rena Furtive before Marinette leaves. I promise.”

Maybe it’s the warm snuggles from Tikki. Maybe it’s the company of good friends. Maybe it’s having her familiar miraculous returned to her ears. Whatever the reason, Marinette manages to pull herself to her feet to unpack. She will be home for a few weeks, which is plenty of time to settle in. Or, perhaps more accurately, just enough time to settle in before she has to pack up again.

❖❖❖

It’s late that night, long after a warm Christmas Eve dinner with her parents and grandparents, before Marinette finally has a few moments to herself—well, as to herself as she can with the Miracle Box in her room. Alya insisted she keep it for the night, and Marinette guesses Alya was eager for a break. She’s happy to oblige. There was something lonely about living in New York with a roommate who came and went at all hours of the night. She’s missed having a flurry of friends to come home to.

Marinette pulls on her coat and slips upstairs to her rooftop balcony. She’s also missed this view. Paris’ lights aren’t all that different from New York but it feels different. The rooftops here are more intimate, older, and worn with familiar paths.

Tikki follows her. “Are we going out?” she asks, and Marinette hears the hope in her voice.

“It’s Christmas Eve. We shouldn’t.”

“Rest is important, Marinette, but you've been away a long time. It's okay to say you missed us.”

Marinette laughs. “Of course I missed you, Tikki. I missed everyone.”

For the most part, there has not been much time to miss her loved ones. She is used to being overworked and overwhelmed and New York is no different, even without her additional responsibilities as a hero.

But the day her father called to help her schedule a flight home for Christmas, Marinette’s heart began to ache with a longing to be home, and it has not stopped, even now that she is here.

Because she isn’t quite home. Not quite yet.

“Tikki, spots on.”

And Tikki goes with a smile, as if she knew this was exactly what Marinette came up here to do before Marinette knew it herself.

But even as the familiar magic settles into her bones, the ache in her heart does not quite fade. She leaps aimlessly across the rooftops, wishing it could all feel like it once did. She hears the jingle of a bell not far off and her heart lurches, but when she seeks out the sound, it’s only a decorative reindeer harnessed to a child-sized sled, left out in the soft dusting of snow that has begun to fall.

Otherwise, the city is quiet.

Though she has never been one for notoriety, she makes sure to call down greetings and well wishes to the people who are strolling the streets and enjoying the city’s holiday lights. She waves and smiles as they excitedly shout that Ladybug is back, that their hero is home. It isn’t the praise or recognition that she wants; she just hopes that word will reach him, wherever he is.

She stops at the Eiffel Tower.

When she is Ladybug, heights mean nothing to her. Falling and flying are as natural as inhaling and exhaling. She holds onto the iron rod above her head and leans out, looking at the city below. Its lamps glisten like starlight on the surface of water, much like the ocean she has stared across longingly from the other side, wondering if he stops to think of her as much as she stops to think of him.

If he is going to come find her, he will start here.

“Well isn’t this fortuitous,” a voice behind her murmurs.

Her heart thrums excitedly. It’s him, it’s his voice—but when she turns, Chat Noir is not behind her.

He has golden hair, like her Chat, but his eyes are hard and icy blue. Her heart stutters into an old nightmare, but no, this boy is not dressed in white. He wears a suit of pale blue with a deep violet button up visible beneath it. The tie knotted at his collar is bloodred and in place of a tie pin, he wears a brooch in the shape of a peacock’s tail.

The mask over his black-rimmed eyes is violet with feathers coming off the ends, their red, unblinking eyes as intimidating as his own cold blue ones. They’re a perfect match to the feather-shaped panel of the folded fan in his hand.

Ladybug takes a step backwards and her foot reaches the edge of the tower.

“I do love that we’re going to get a shot at the original instead of some knock off,” another voice says, high and feminine. A young woman drops down from the iron network of beams above them and lands in a graceful flourish. Her soft pink and orange skirts flutter like wings softening a landing before settling neatly around her feet. The bodice of her dress is a pale lavender, and her mask, like the young man’s, extends far beyond her face. But instead of ending in marks like a peacock’s feathers, her mask curves into the shape of a butterfly’s wings. She wears a purple brooch in the shape of a butterfly at the hollow of her throat and carries a cane tipped in amethyst.

Ladybug unclips her yo-yo from her waist. “Unless you two are going to politely hand over your miraculouses so I can return them to where they belong, I’m not sure that we have much to say to each other.”

“There’s no need for a fight,” the young man says.

“But I would love a fight,” the woman protests, lifting her cane as if it were a rapier. “How about it, Ladybug? Woman to woman?”

She plunges her cane at Ladybug’s chest and Ladybug knows she could move out of the way, but she doesn’t. She lets the attack knock her off the edge of the Eiffel Tower. Falling truly is no different from breathing for her, but her assailant, surprised to find the attack has landed, stumbles. Ladybug sees the young woman just barely catch herself on the iron beams and is disappointed. She uses her yo-yo to snag a beam of the tower, swing through and up, and lands behind the boy dressed in the peacock’s glamor.

She wastes no time. She launches her yo-yo with an intent to tie up the young man and drag him towards her. He sidesteps her attack and catches her yo-yo on the end of his fan. She pulls with the hope of disarming him, but his grip is strong.

“You could hand over your miraculous,” he suggests, “and tell us where to find Chat Noir.”

“Or don’t,” the woman says, only a small tremor in her voice after her near-fall. “I’d much rather see if you bleed first.”

She rushes Ladybug, full of an anger familiar after hundreds of fights with Monarch’s akumas and sentimonsters. It’s blind rage, formless and reckless. This woman hates her, and Ladybug hasn’t a clue why.

She’s forced to release the peacock’s fan to defend herself. She does think, a bit sadly, that perhaps it was a good thing Chat Noir declined her offer of sharing their secret identities. It means that even if she is to lose this fight, she has nothing to give these people to help them find her partner. Her former partner.

But she’s not going to lose this fight. She may not have been Ladybug for a few months, but she knows her strength and she knows her magic. The woman with the cane does not seem to know what to do with her weapon. She swings wildly, alternating between using her cane like a club or a sword. Ladybug ducks and side-steps her attacks easily. If the young man would bother to intervene, it might be a more challenging fight, but he seems content to stand to the side and watch his partner embarrass herself in her anger.

Ladybug’s yo-yo string finally snags on the woman’s cane. She yanks it towards her and tears the staff from the woman’s grip.

“That’s mine!” The young woman snarls and grasps desperately for her weapon, but the boy clicks his tongue against his teeth with the sort of sound one might reserve for a toddler throwing a tantrum.

He plucks a feather from his fan. “If you’re done throwing your fit, perhaps we could move onto the main event.”

The woman takes a step away from Ladybug with a furious frown scrawled across her face. “Fine.” And she certainly sounds like a petulant child who has just been told she can’t leave the table until she finishes her dinner.

She taps the brooch at her throat and a pale lavender butterfly flits out from her chest. The boy blows on his feather and the two magical creations swoop off the edge of the Eiffel Tower. Ladybug does her best to snare them in her yo-yo, but the boy throws his fan in an expert arc, striking her yo-yo from its path. His fan falls from the tower and the feather and the butterfly disappear into the night.

“What do you even want? Who are you?” Ladybug asks.

“I did ask politely for your miraculous,” he says, “and Chat Noir’s, but you’re right. It was quite rude of us not to introduce ourselves. This is Bella Moth, and you can call me Flourish.”

There’s a crash from the street below and Ladybug knows she needs to investigate, but if her years facing Hawk Moth and his subsequent forms taught her anything, it’s that an opportunity to meet her enemies in person is rare and she should not waste it.

“Go on, Ladybug,” Flourish says. “We’ll see you again—after our creations defeat you, and we take your miraculous.”

She thinks he ought to take a lesson from his predecessor as she is trying to do, and recognize that this strategy has ended in nothing but stalemates for the heroes and villains alike, but there’s a scream from below and Ladybug cannot ignore people in danger. She leaps from the ledge and plunges to the street below. She takes Bella Moth’s cane with her.

As she lands, she finds where Flourish’s fan has fallen. She grabs that, too and turns it over, examining it even as she runs towards the sounds of a monster tearing apart the streets of Paris. The fan looks identical to the one Mayura once wielded, but it’s clear that neither of these miraculous users are her.

She and Chat Noir never found proof that Mayura was Nathalie Sancouer, but it was not hard to put together once Gabriel Agreste’s identity was revealed. Nathalie was tight-lipped about Gabriel’s secrets, but Ladybug wonders if it might be time for another chat with the woman.

She finds the battle easily. A boy astride a senti-reindeer, whose red nose is glowing so brightly, is using his new powers and the help of his creature to fire deadly lasers at shop windows. Ladybug tries, first, to talk the boy down from his anger. She learns that he has decided to call himself Reign-deer, and he plans to destroy Christmas because his mother had to work, so he’ll be alone for the night. If he can’t enjoy the day, no one can.

It’s been a long time since she’s had to fight an akuma, and longer still since she’s had to fight one alone, but she still remembers how to use her Lucky Charm. Though it takes her a while to figure out what the red, black-spotted banana peel is for.

She notices the teddy bear dressed like a nurse that the akumatized boy clings to like a life preserver. In his other hand is a jingle bell, which he shakes each time the reindeer fires a laser. It’s not hard to guess that the powers of the miraculouses are stored in these objects, but it is hard for her to get close to the boy without getting hit by the reindeer’s shiny red nose.

But when she sees the senti-reindeer stumble on a frozen patch of road, she knows exactly how to put her Lucky Charm to use. She does have a single moment where she considers how much easier this would be if she had the help of Cataclysm, but the self-pity is brief. She can’t afford it for very long.

She uses Bella Moth’s cane—specifically the crystal on top—to deflect the reindeer’s laser. The redirected beam strikes the teddy bear right through its scrubs, and a lavender butterfly flits out of the stuffing. The reindeer rears back and its rider tumbles into the snow. The reindeer’s hoof comes down on the banana peel, slick with fresh snow, and it splays out in the street like a newborn fawn. The jingle bell goes flying into the air and Ladybug uses Flourish’s fan to catch it. It lands on the edges of the feathers and rolls into her hand where she snaps it in two and frees the blue feather.

She catches the feather and butterfly in her yo-yo and bleeds the color from them until they are pure white. Once they’re no longer a danger, she releases them, and uses her Lucky Charm to repair the damage done by the red-nosed reindeer and his rider.

The crowd has questions and concerns and she does her best to assure them that she has it under control, that she and Scarabella and Carapace are all working together to keep them safe. She promises that she and her friends will catch Bella Moth and Flourish just as they stopped Monarch.

She doesn’t answer their questions about Chat Noir. Instead, she escapes as quickly as she can. They do not complain, used to Ladybug and her hasty exits, but they don’t seem to notice that her earrings are not counting down the minutes of her transformation, not yet.

Ladybug can feel the loss where she has spent some of her magic, but she does not feel any warning signs that her power is fading. She’d waited so long for this strength, to be old enough and strong enough to no longer be bound by a single use of her miraculous’ power, but she had given it up by the time she was strong enough to hold it. At least this means she still has time to face Bella Moth and Flourish.

But when she finally reaches the Eiffel Tower, the new villains are gone. Then the cane and the fan she carries vanish suddenly and she knows there’s no hope of finding the villains now.

Something lands behind her with a thud, and Ladybug turns, fists closed in anticipation of a fight—but it is not the return of Bella Moth and Flourish. It’s only Carapace.

Rena Furtive melts out of the shadows just behind him and, without warning, pulls Ladybug into her arms.

“We got here as quickly as we could,” Carapace says.

“We’re sorry it wasn’t quickly enough,” Rena Furtive apologizes. “Are you okay?”

“It’s just my luck that two new villains decide to announce themselves the day I get back,” Ladybug says, and tries to make it funny, but her laugh sounds a bit more like a sob. She doesn’t even realize how overwhelming tonight has been until she hears it in her own voice.

Rena Furtive squeezes her shoulders tightly. “It’s not your fault.”

“It’s got to be a coincidence,” Carapace says confidently. “Maybe they’re also in town for the holiday.”

“But who are they?” Rena Furtive asks. “And what do they want?”

Ladybug tells them what she knows. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to make Rena Furtive’s brows furrow beneath her fox-like mask.

“Blonde?” Rena asks.

Carapace frowns. “No.”

“Why not?”

“We’ve talked about it before, and the answer is no.”

“That’s not a why.”

“I’ve told you why.”

Ladybug listens to this back and forth, feeling a bit like a ball at a tennis match. She has no idea what this argument is about, and she can’t manage to get a word in to interrupt.

“He got home yesterday,” Rena Furtive says, “and a new villain shows up today? Is that a coincidence?”

“Yes,” Carapace snaps. “It’s completely a coincidence.”

“Is what a coincidence?” Ladybug finally manages to ask.

“Adrien Agreste,” Rena Furtive says. “Who else would have ended up with Gabriel’s missing miraculous?”

Chapter 2

Adrien ignores the first alert on his phone. He has his tongue between his lips and his hands tangled up in a golden, sparkly ribbon. He has been fighting with this bow for fifteen minutes, and he is not going to give in now.

But when his phone beeps a third time, he picks it up.

At first, he’s disappointed it isn’t Marinette texting him back. Then his heart leaps into his throat as he realizes it’s a Ladyblog alert.

Ladybug is home.

Adrien very nearly bolts for his dresser to dig out the small black jewelry box he has abandoned in his sock drawer. He’s stopped by the news alert that appears at the top of his screen—not from the Ladyblog, but because he has his phone set up to alert him of any news articles that use the word “akuma” or “sentimonster.”

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reign-deer Rampage Reined in by Red-Spotted Hero blips at the top of his phone screen and he has hardly clicked on the notification before a new one appears: Ladybug Warns Citizens of Paris About New Villains in Town. Adrien quickly opens that one instead.

His stomach turns as he reads what little details Ladybug was able to give. It isn’t much for anyone else to chew on—Bella Moth and Flourish, the new wielders of the butterfly and peacock miraculouses—but for Adrien, it's nauseating.

His desire to see Ladybug is lost in that nausea, in that toxic pool of guilt that boils over in his stomach. He can’t face her, not after how dramatically he failed her. And now, to know that the lost miraculouses have ended up in the hands of two new villains?

There’s a reason he gave Plagg up and disappeared to Venice for two months.

He’s so caught up in his own agony, he doesn’t hear the click of heels on tile harmonized with the creak of mechanical joints announcing Nathalie’s arrival. He’s startled by the sharp staccato knocks on his bedroom door and hastily shoves the collection of half-wrapped presents under his couch as she opens his bedroom door.

The bottle of wine he bought for Nathalie rolls right on through his couch and stops at her feet. She glances down at it briefly, nudges it aside, and crosses the room to him.

Nathalie has known him too long to be put off by messes, and too long to be surprised that he’s bought her a bottle of wine for Christmas. He hopes she’ll at least be surprised by the dinner reservation in Shanghai.

“Good. You’re here,” she says by way of greeting, and sits down on his couch. She hands him a leather-bound folder, the sort she keeps memos in, but it’s Christmas, and there shouldn’t be any reason for memos.

“Where else would I be?” he asks. He takes the folder from her but he does not open it. He was very clear with her that he was not going to do any work during Christmas. He also remembers telling her to take the time off.

Since he is being stubborn, she opens the folder up for him. “I’ve prepared a statement for the press about Paris’s new villains. It only needs your signature.”

Adrien stares at her in surprise. Nathalie has managed to get a statement together before he’s hardly begun to process the idea of new villains in Paris. Prepared for everything is sort of Nathalie’s job, but he can’t help but wonder if she knew about these new villains before they had made their appearance.

Though it feels like putting his hand in a tiger’s mouth, or dropping his heart into a vat of acid, he has dared, a few times, to ask Nathalie if she knew the truth about Hawk Moth, or if she had ever helped Gabriel with any of his villainy as she had helped him with everything else.

“I only ever helped your father manage his business,” is as much as she has ever said. Except once, she added, “Do you really think if I had known what he was doing to himself, I would have said nothing?”

Adrien doesn’t really believe her, but he has no one else to turn to, not really.

Shortly after Gabriel’s arrest and formal charges were filed, his father lapsed into a coma. The doctors have no explanation, but Adrien managed to find a second opinion in a friend with a bit more knowledge of what happens when someone uses too many miraculouses.

Plagg could not say he had ever seen someone collapse from using too many miraculouses at once, but he was aware that there are side effects from overuse of a miraculous or combining too many powers of the miraculouses at once. He also mentioned that using a damaged miraculous could put the user in a similar comatose state, though Adrien still doesn't understand why Plagg included that detail in his diagnosis.

It’s hard to know which would be the worse way to spend the holiday: his father languishing in a hospital, all but brain dead, or having to face his father in a cell somewhere with the unasked “why” as impenetrable as the iron bars and glass barrier between them.

So Adrien lets Nathalie stay—after all, who else has the knowledge to keep the Agreste brand running after such a scandal—but he has kept his eyes and ears open for signs that she might be hiding the lost butterfly and peacock miraculouses.

The saying is “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” though Adrien wishes he’d minded the first part a bit more closely.

His gaze lingers on Ladybug’s name in Nathalie’s press statement. I am glad to know that Paris’ hero is home again, and I wish Ladybug the best of luck in hunting out these new villains, though I know that she does not need it. Guilt bubbles up from his stomach to his throat, burning him from the inside out.

He’s always known that it’s his fault that Ladybug left Paris last fall. He had pushed her so far away that she’d passed her legacy onto Scarabella, and he’d let Carapace step into his place without protest. They’ve done a lot of good for the city, even without a villain to face. He’s dreamed of joining them a few times. He watches them work to save a kid or a cat and he twists the space around his finger that used to hold a silver ring.

He’s accepted his fate as a sort of penance for missing all the signs of his father’s villainous secrets. He was a hero; he should have seen it sooner. Instead he and Ladybug took years to realize that Gabriel and Hawk Moth were one and the same.

Adrien signs the statement, and though he knows it's a grievous sin to work on Christmas, he says, “Maybe change it to Ladybug and Scarabella instead of just Ladybug. And we ought to use a picture of the Ladybug statue for the socials.”

“Noted. I’ve already picked one out.” She takes the folder back from him, but she does not leave. She hesitates in the middle of his room.

Adrien can’t imagine what she’s waiting for. If she dares to say anything related to work or managing his father’s company—his company—he considers what it would cost him to fire her then and there.

“Do you have anything you want to tell me, Adrien?” she finally says.

He thinks of the black and red jewelry box tucked away in his sock drawer and the silver ring inside. “No.”

She still waits. When he does not offer anything more, she asks, “Is there anything you want to ask me?”

He has a dozen questions, a hundred, a million things to ask. He keeps his voice as even as he can as he says, “Nothing I haven’t asked you before.”

She still waits. He still says nothing.

“I was many things for your father,” she finally says, “but for you, all I have done is to look out for you.”

It is hard to forget that Nathalie is the one who enabled his escape to school all those years ago, an action that changed the course of his life irrevocably, and brought him some of the greatest joy he has ever known.

“If you need a confidant,” she adds, “I am an expert at non-disclosures.”

“No, thank you.”

She waits another moment before, in a turn that Adrien finds uncharacteristically blunt, she says, “If you are Flourish, you do not have to tell me, but I cannot cover for you if I do not know what you are doing.”

Adrien considers the possibility that Nathalie could be Bella Moth. Who else would have ended up with his father’s miraculouses? But if that’s the case, wouldn’t she know who Flourish is? Or is it possible that Bella Moth and Flourish as unaware of the other outside of their personas as he and Ladybug are?

Instead of denying her accusation, Adrien asks, “Like you covered for my father?”

She does not respond to this. She only waits, and Adrien wonders if this is what she did with his father. If she waited and waited for Gabriel to tell her the truth. If she suspected—she must have suspected; no one spent as much time with Gabriel as she did—and if he is wrong for leaping at the chance to blame her.

It is not as if she did anything less to stop Gabriel than Adrien did.

Adrien’s shoulders drop in defeat and the cool exterior he’s been trying to hold onto melts. “I’m not Flourish,” he says. “If you’re asking me, though, does this mean you’re not Bella Moth?”

“I cannot imagine how I would have the time,” she says, which isn’t a “no” exactly, but Adrien considers how close he and Nathalie have become in these last six months. She knows his schedule down to the minutes written in for bathroom breaks. It would be hard for her to slip away to be a villain just as it had always been hard for him to slip away to be a hero. Hard, but not quite impossible.

Adrien searches for a pin at Nathalie’s throat and wonders if it is hidden under the cuff of her turtle neck or tucked beneath the lapel of her blazer. He sees no sign of it.

“I’m leaving, then,” she moves on breezily, as if interrogating him was just one of the many tasks on her todo list, squeezed in between the press release and her Christmas vacation. “I’d encourage you not to leave the house without a guard. There’s no telling what people will think of you after tonight.”

Adrien knows there will be people who put together the timing of his return home and Flourish’s arrival in Paris, but he won’t ask the Gorilla to work on Christmas, and Nathalie is right to tell him that he shouldn’t go alone. He could send his friends their presents via courier, instead of delivering them in person like he planned, but that defeats the purpose of his gifts. He wants to see his friends. He owes them after how he has treated them over the last six months.

Because after Gabriel’s arrest, he didn’t just push away Chat Noir’s friends; he pushed Adrien’s friends away too.

It was just so easy to be busy. The press wanted him. The lawyers wanted him. The doctors wanted him. And he didn’t want to think.

His friends were kind and comforting, even when he smiled and promised them that he was okay. He saw them when he had to and avoided them when he had an excuse. His text history is full of broken engagements and broken promises.

He didn’t even go to Marinette’s going away party last August. Nino showed up to drag him away from a dining room of thick fountain pens, thicker stacks of paper, and an even thicker crowd of lawyers, but Adrien simply couldn’t get away. He promised to catch Marinette before she left, but he didn’t manage that either. He didn’t even tell Nino he was going to Venice for a photography project until he was already across the border.

He does want to be with his friends. His texts aren’t a lie—he wants to see them. He wants to know how they’re doing, what changes are going on in their lives, but he’s afraid of the questions being returned back to him. He’s afraid they might ask him all those questions he can’t answer, all those questions he’s afraid to know the answers to.

Questions he thinks he might be able to answer if he thinks long enough and hard enough, but he’s not ready to do that.

And maybe if he can prove that Nathalie is Bella Moth, he won’t have to.

He doesn’t know why she’s waited six months to reveal herself, and he hasn’t the faintest idea who Flourish is, but he doesn’t need to know the details. He just needs to get the butterfly back and beg for Ladybug’s forgiveness.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Adrien says. He, too, has become an expert at P.R.-level vagueness after working so closely with Nathalie. “Do you have plans for your time off?”

“I thought I might take a trip to Shanghai.”

Adrien manages a straight face for a moment, but he can’t even bring himself to feign an interested, nonchalant question. He fumbles under the couch for the card he’d put together for Nathalie, complete with all the information about the restaurant and her accommodations for her trip. “Someday I’ll surprise you.” He hands the card over.

“Someday you’ll remember that I’m the one who approves every dollar you spend.”

“Next time I’ll remember to ask Nino to put it on his credit card.”

There’s a hint of a smile on the edge of Nathalie’s mouth. “If Nino Lahiffe has a credit card maximum high enough for how much you like to lavish me, his career as a film director must have really taken off.”

“Not yet, but it will.”

“Then I await the day,” she says, but with all her usual enthusiasm, which is to say, hardly any at all. She picks up the bottle of wine that had rolled to her feet. “This is mine, too, isn’t it?”

“Enjoy,” Adrien says, and leans back on his hands.

She tucks it and the press release under her arm. “Thank you. Merry Christmas, Adrien.”

His heart lurches at her tone. It’s as close to affectionate as Nathalie ever comes. He wonders if she really meant it when she said that all she had ever done was look out for him.

“Merry Christmas, Nathalie,” he says.

As soon as she is gone, he pulls his presents out from under the couch. There’s a new pair of designer shoes for Chloe, an original Degas sketch for Kagami, a new hi-def camera for Nino with specs Adrien has tested himself, and a new tablet for Alya. Nino has always told him that he does too much when it comes to gifts, but Adrien doesn’t have an appropriate frame of reference. Even after six years of gift exchanges with Nino, Adrien still can only think about how much he wants to give to his friends and never considers how much it costs.

Comparatively, Marinette’s gift is nothing. It cost Adrien very little, particularly when held against the other gifts, and yet this gift is more than he has ever given to anyone. He decides to finish wrapping the others before he gets back into a fight with the glittery bow that he has picked out especially for her.

There’s a soft creak behind him as he’s taping the wrapping paper around the frame he’d purchased for Kagami’s gift, and he shivers as a chill slips into his room.

Adrien turns to see that one of the panels of his large bedroom window has slipped open. He knows the catch is weak from years of sneaking out as Chat Noir, but he can’t remember it ever opening on its own. He gets up to close it and has to pull over a table and stretch to reach the fastener. He’s used to having a bit more height in his jump when he is Chat Noir.

It closes easily, and though the latch is certainly not as snug as it once was, it seems secure enough. If the wind is pushing it open, though, the latch will need to be replaced. He makes a note to himself to fix it before Nathalie notices.

Once Adrien has finished wrapping Alya’s gift, he returns to the bow on Marinette’s present. The glitter has already transferred to each of the other gifts, and he’s fairly certain its embedded beneath the skin of his hands by now, but he refuses to be defeated.

He tries until he gets desperate enough to pull up a video online of how to tie a nice bow. The video is helpful, but there’s an odd squeaking noise in the background. It doesn’t bother him, exactly; it’s just a little distracting.

He manages to get the bow as neat as he can, and he thinks that while it isn’t up to Marinette’s standards, it’s really not bad. She’ll be nice about it, anyway. She always is. And as he sets it aside he hears a squeak again.

He can’t blame his phone for it this time. He surveys his room, wondering if it's possible that he has mice. It had been a concern when he had first started keeping cheese in his room, but Plagg was quite good at keeping them away. He hasn’t had cheese in his room for months, so why would they be here now?

Adrien follows a squeak to his desk, but he does not see anything. He does notice that the cabinet next to it is cracked open. Is it possible Plagg woke up without him, found out he was gone, and rebuilt his horde?

Adrien peers inside the cabinet, but he sees nothing unusual. The cabinet still smells, though, and Adrien thinks he’ll never be free of Plagg’s Camembert curse.

He hears a squeak again, this time from his dresser. He turns and trips over his desk chair that was definitely not right behind him a moment ago. He would swear it’s moved specifically to be in his way.

He pushes himself up, but not before he catches sight of something small and gray disappearing behind his wastebasket. It’s not a mouse, though. Mice don’t move on two legs.

“Ma—” he stops himself before he reveals anything that Adrien Agreste is not supposed to know. “Multimouse?” he asks.

The small gray figure peeks her head out from behind the wastebasket. Her dark hair is streaked pink and pulled back in a bun, and Adrien is positive that this is Multimouse, and he knows that Multimouse is Marinette, but why is she here and small and—

There are more of her suddenly, gathering back together, and before Adrien quite understands what is happening, Multimouse is sitting at his desk chair and he is still on the ground at her feet.

She presses her hand to her head, as if her mind is still gathering itself together, then her eyes flick directly to his dresser. Adrien follows her gaze and sees his sock drawer cracked open just enough for a small version of Multimouse to slip through.

Adrien glances guiltily at the pale white line across his ring finger, a scar of happier time, before he knew just how badly he had screwed up.

Multimouse says nothing to him. She stands and crosses to his dresser.

“Wait,” he tries, but she reaches into his sock drawer and pulls out the familiar black and red hexagonal box he had tucked away months ago.

Adrien kept Plagg around for a while before pushing him away, too, just like he’d done to all of his friends; having someone around at the end of the day, someone he didn't have to explain anything to, had been nice at first. He and Plagg didn't speak much then, but they were together, at least. Then Scarabella came on the scene and Adrien, with no preamble nor apology, formally returned his ring to its box. What was the point in being Chat Noir without Ladybug?

He bites his lip as Multimouse turns to face him.

“I defended you,” she says, and there’s something in her voice that’s utterly devastated.

Adrien uses his desk chair to help himself to his feet. “Mar—Multimouse, I’m sorry…”

She doesn’t look at him. Her eyes are solely on the box. “Why?” she asks.

“I thought…” He swallows down his guilt but it pushes its way back up regardless. “I didn’t know.”

Her gray-gloved hands grip the box as if she’s got her hands around his throat squeezing the life out of him. “I told Rena she had you all wrong. I told her it wasn’t like you to do this. I told her I’d look just to make her feel better, and now…”

Adrien thinks of the gift he’s just finished wrapping, and how it was intended to be all the vulnerable parts of him laid bare for Marinette in a way he hadn’t trusted with anyone else just yet. He trusted her because he knew that she would understand him. But he doesn’t see how she’ll be able to understand this.

“Does Ladybug know you’re here?” he asks. “Or did Scarabella send you?”

Multimouse hesitates. She chews on her lower lip with an indecision that is just so full of Marinette that Adrien’s heart finally manages to surface above his guilt and pain and he steps closer.

She misinterprets his approach and steps away, lifting the jewelry box out of his reach, or at least, as high as she can. She’s small; he is not. He could try to grab the box from her, but he doesn’t.

“I am sorry,” he says. “I just… can you tell Ladybug that?”

She doesn’t acknowledge his apology. She still won’t even look at him. “Where’s the other one?” she asks.

He doesn’t answer because he doesn’t know how. “The other what?”

“Your partner’s.” And now she looks at him, but there’s so much anger in her glare that he steps away from her.

He can only stare back at her, utterly bewildered by both her question and her anger. His only partner is Ladybug, and doesn’t she know that?

“Who are you talking about?” he asks.

“Bella Moth.”

And all of the guilt, all of the heartache, and even all of Adrien’s love for Marinette turns as cold as the ice in her voice. His shoulders tighten and his jaw clenches. His tone shifts to match hers.

“You think I’m Flourish?”

“Why else did I find a miraculous jewelry box in your room?”

He’s never felt so utterly betrayed. Not even when he discovered the truth about his father. It’s one thing for Nathalie to suspect him, Nathalie who knew his father and went through it all before.

But this is Marinette, and she mentioned Rena and surely Carapace was a part of this—and Adrien knows Rena Rouge and Carapace are Alya and Nino. He doesn’t know who Scarabella and Ladybug are, sure, but how could his best friends have ever suspected him of being a villain? He’s guilty of not catching his father sooner. He’s guilty of letting Ladybug down, but not of betraying her trust in this way, and he can’t believe Marinette and his friends think he would have.

Multimouse looks at him and he glimpses, just beyond her anger, the same heartbreak he feels.

He considers, briefly, asking her to flip the catch on the box, to look inside before she leaves. It’s a simple enough request, but his heartbreak is too great.

And, anyway, isn’t this his fault too? He pushed his friends away. Why wouldn’t they turn on him?

He sees movement in the corner of his eye as a violet butterfly squeezes through his loose window pane. He doesn’t know which of them its coming for, but he’s not going to let it take Marinette, certainly.

He lunges for the box in her hand, and they both tumble to the ground. The catch on the jewelry box unlatches as it hits the ground and Adrien yanks the ring from it.

“Plagg,” he says, even though his kwami has hardly begun to form, “claws out!”

He has not even fully adjusted to Plagg’s magic as the violence of chaos settles into his bones before he calls on that power.

“Cataclysm!” he shouts as his hand closes over the butterfly. It crumbles to dust in his hand.

Multimouse covers her mouth in horror as she looks up at Chat Noir, but he does not know which part of this revelation is the most horrifying for her. Is it knowing that Chat Noir is Hawk Moth’s son? Is it knowing that her best friend, who she’s just accused of being a villain, is one of Paris’s heroes? Is it knowing that he knows who she is under that mask?

He looks out the window for Flourish’s feather to follow Bella’s butterfly, but he sees no blue feather flitting near his bedroom window. He flexes his hand, surprised by the strength of the magic left in him. He does not feel his power draining, and wonders if he could call on another Cataclysm, should the villains show themselves.

“Chat…” Multimouse says, but he’s not ready for her apology.

He is careful to keep his voice even, because it so desperately wants to break—everything in him wants to break. “Ladybug can find me if she wants.”

Chat Noir leaves through the loose window, wishing he felt better about his return to this freedom he had denied himself for so long. He uses a search for Bella Moth to distract from his heartbreak, but it’s hard to say how close she was when she sent off her akuma. His father managed to curse half of Paris without leaving the house. Bella Moth might be miles away, sensing the pulse of heartbreak and anger throughout the city with the power of her miraculous.

Whoever she is, he thinks she’s very rude to try for two akuma attacks on Christmas Eve. It’s just poor sportsmanship on her part. Maybe there’s no feather to go with it this time because Flourish has better manners.

His search is, as he expected, fruitless, but he doesn’t take himself home rightaway. As much as he wants to curl up in his bed, apologize to Plagg, and sleep his way through Christmas, he knows that it is past the time to explain himself to Ladybug. He’s been avoiding her since she offered the truth of her identity.

He’s been avoiding the truth about everything for so long.

He climbs his way up the Eiffel Tower and stares out at the city, glittering with its holiday lights.

The truth is, he knows why his father did what he did. It’s not hard to guess what his father wanted the miraculouses for, what his father’s wish would be. He also knows that his father must have suspected that he was Chat Noir at least once. But Gabriel never trusted Adrien enough to even ask, to even hint that maybe Hawk Moth’s wish would be good for them both. He knows that if he could ask his father why, Gabriel would say that he had been doing it for the both of them.

But Adrien doesn’t think he would believe him.

He sinks down onto the tower’s highest platform and draws his knees up to his chest. Ladybug will find him. And if she doesn’t… Well, then he supposes that will be answer enough for how she feels about who he is.

Chapter 3

He’s waiting on the very ledge she waited on when she first arrived in Paris, entirely unchanged from the last time she saw him. He’s seated with his knees drawn up to his chest, green eyes glittering in the evening light.

For a moment, Ladybug thinks this could be the very night they saw Gabriel arrested. The last six months could have been a terrible dream and she is about to step back and start over, as cleanly as if Fluff or Sass reset time to take her back to their last meeting.

But she knows that’s untrue. She knows that the last six months happened, just as much as the last six minutes happened, and she has to face the consequences for that, too.

She steps lightly, but loud enough that he knows she’s coming. She doesn’t want to startle him.

He doesn’t even turn around.

She sits down beside him. She sets the two Christmas presents she’s brought with her on the edge of the platform, careful not to knock them over the edge. She’s not certain that she’ll use them, but she wants them just in case this all goes well. She’s still unsure where to start.

He’s the one who breaks the silence. “Did Marinette tell you everything?”

She doesn’t answer, because anything she could say to that would be untrue. Instead, she says, “I understand a lot more now than I did before.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

Ladybug bites her lip. “Multimouse wasn’t lying when she said she defended you. She and Carapace were adamant that you couldn’t be Flourish. But you know Rena, she always wants to be thorough.”

“I thought I knew Rena.”

Ladybug tips her head at that, unsure what to make of the tone in his voice. He knows who Multimouse is, but she can’t think how he would know Rena and Carapace’s identities. He offers no further explanation, so she decides she might as well begin with her apology.

“A long time ago,” she says, “like, a few years ago long, not miraculous long, I faced an akumatized version of you.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“It was… another timeline. Bunnyx helped me. I don’t want to talk about the details—” She chews on her lower lip again, wading through the trauma of facing Chat Blanc to pick out the parts she wants to make sure Adrien understands. “—but the akuma attack was so bad that we had to reset time itself. The thing we had to change was that Adrien Agreste figured out who I was. I used to think it was just that Adrien—” she hesitates before amending, “—you told someone by accident and the secret got out. And then, after we caught Hawk Moth I wondered if that accident was telling your father. But I never, for even a moment, considered that you might have known that your father was Hawk Moth, that you might have intentionally told your father to help him. I’ve always trusted you, Adrien. And I’m sorry I doubted you tonight.”

She keeps her eyes on Chat Noir, wondering if he is going to accept her apology. She won’t blame him if he refuses.

He doesn’t look at her. Instead, he watches the city below.

“You said Rena insisted on being thorough,” he finally says, as if she had not just shared one of her most traumatic, vulnerable memories with him. “What was your opinion?”

She takes in a long, slow breath. She knew that she would have to do this. It’s not how she has imagined it after all these years, but there is no other way to be honest with him, and she is never going to repair the break between them without honesty.

For an answer, she tugs on one of the two wrapped Christmas presents she’s brought with her for this apology.

“This is for you,” she says.

He has to let his knees go to take the gift from her, and part of him seems to uncoil. Curiosity glints in his eyes alongside the heartbreak. She resists the urge to reach for his ears and see if she can elicit a purr from him. She’s going to have to let him be vulnerable on his terms, not on hers.

His claw-like gloves cut through the velvety green ribbon and tear the red wrapping paper. The box inside is about as big as his lap, flat, and plain white. He lifts the lid and pulls back the tissue inside to reveal a white silk blazer, and embroidered down the lapel on one side is a pattern of green and pink geometric shapes and flowers.

He stares at it for a long moment. She can tell by the way he runs his hands over the stitching he recognizes what it represents, but she had expected a stronger reaction from him.

“Marinette made this?” he says, and she waits for him to correct himself to ”You made this,” but he does not.

“Designed after the good luck charm.” Ladybug pulls the second gift into her lap. The gold glitter of the ribbon dusts her thighs. “Can I open your gift?” she asks.

He looks at the box in her lap, at the tag attached to the glittery ribbon that reads To: Marinette and From: Adrien. He glances down at the box in his lap. He looks back at her as she bites down on her lip, afraid she is being too subtle.

“Oh,” he says.

She waits for him to properly process it. It took her long enough to understand and she had watched him transform in front of her.

“But—wait, no,” he shakes his head, “I’ve seen Multimouse and Ladybug together. You can’t be both.”

“Trixx helped cover for me,” she said.

He sets her gift aside and stares at her, frowning like he’s trying to see through her mask. “You’ve been Marinette the whole time?”

“Yes.”

“So you… you quit because you went to New York? You didn’t quit being Ladybug because of me?”

She fidgets with the ribbon in her lap, ignoring the way the glitter coats her gloved fingers. “It was… lonely without you. It made the decision to pass my miraculous onto Scarabella easier. But no, I didn’t quit because of you.”

Chat Noir purses his lips in his own bit of indecision. Finally, he says, “You should open your gift.”

She tugs on the ribbon. It takes her a moment to figure out how to undo the complex knot, but she’s always enjoyed puzzles.

Once the package is free of its glittery trappings, she peels back the paper to reveal a photography book. The cover is a photo of a row of colorful houses on the waterfront. She opens the book and flips through photographs of Venice’s architecture and artwork.

“I liked the color there,” he says. “I thought you would, too. And…” He reaches over to her lap and flips towards the back of the book. The pictures in this end of the book are no longer of artwork and architecture. They’re of people—or rather, they’re of people’s clothing.

The photographs must have been of people posing in front of the water or a marble statue, and some still are that—full-body shots of models in motion—but some of them have been cropped down to just a sleeve or the lines on a bodice or the cut of a neckline. She knows Adrien must have an eye for fashion photography after all of his experience in the industry, but she can’t help but marvel at the way he’s captured the weight of fabric, the contrast of color, the structure of the ensemble, the complements of the patterns—it's the kind of things she would look for.

“I left because of you,” he says.

She tears her eyes away from the book to meet his and she has never wanted more desperately than she has in this moment to actually see him beneath his mask.

“You went to New York and I couldn’t help but feel like you were leaving me behind. Not like you abandoned me or anything, but that you were growing. You were pursuing your dream. And Nino got into film school and Alya sold her first article and I… I was still doing all the same things I was doing before. I wanted to do something new. I wanted to grow with all of you. So I left. I wanted to keep up with you.”

“And?” she asks. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

He shrugs. “It was… lonely.”

“I was lonely, too,” she admits. “I kept busy to forget how lonely I was.”

“That sounds familiar,” he says. He kicks his legs against the iron beams holding them up. “I’m sorry,” he says.

She shakes her head. “No, you have nothing to apologize for—”

“I doubted you. I thought… I thought you would blame me for not catching Monarch sooner. Or that you’d think I was responsible somehow, and that wasn’t fair of me. I should have trusted you. I should have trusted us.”

She leans her head against his shoulder. “No more doubting each other. No more doubting ourselves.”

He stiffens at first, then he leans back against her, until they are exchanging each other’s weight as easily as they had exchanged gifts. Somewhere in the distance, a clock strikes midnight.

“Merry Christmas, chaton,” she murmurs.

“Merry Christmas, my Lady,” he replies.

He looks down and she looks up and then before she quite realizes what she’s doing, she presses her lips against his.

It isn’t her first kiss with Chat Noir by any stretch, but it is her first kiss with someone who knows she is both Marinette and Ladybug, and she knows that he is as fond of all of her as she is of all of him. He’s not just her partner, not just a boy she used to have a crush on, not just a dear friend she has been trying to keep afloat with casual, emotion-free text messages. She finally realizes the weight of all of those things put together and it leaves her a little dizzy.

He pulls away and there’s something mischievous in his grin. “You’re bright red.”

She’s warm, despite the cold night, and doesn’t even have the sense to be embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Adrien.”

He presses his lips against her cheek and keeps his face close against hers as he murmurs, “We finished the apology bit.”

“I was a bad friend,” she says.

“Marinette—”

“I was trying to be careful to give you space, but I should’ve trusted our friendship. You didn’t have to go to Venice alone. You could’ve come to New York with me. Or gone to school with Nino, or —”

He drops his head against her shoulder like her apology is wearing him out. “We were both distant. You did it because you wanted to look out for me. I pushed my friends away because I didn’t know how you could stay friends with someone who was so close to a villain. You had to think me an idiot for not noticing, or in on it because I had noticed—”

“We would never think that of you—”

“I know.” He presses his lips against her neck and a shiver runs up her spine.

She recalls her restraint when it came to scratching his ears, her withholding a desire to touch him so he could process his feelings. He wishes he would show her that same restraint, but his hand slides up the curve of her back, pressing her against him. He breathes in deep and lets it out slowly. His breath is hot and wet against her ear and it’s not just her face that’s warm. She’s warm all over. She decides she doesn’t need to talk through anything anymore, she just wants more of this.

She tightens her hand in his hair and his throat rumbles with something so close to a purr she cannot help but laugh. She feels his smile against her neck.

“I know I said we finished the apology bit,” he sighs, “but I’ve got one more to do.”

“What for?”

“Plagg. He’s going to be insufferable. I left him in a sock drawer for months.”

“You might deserve whatever he does to you for that.” She stifles a yawn and he pulls away.

“Sorry,” he says, despite their promise to be done apologizing. “You’ve had a long day—travel and an akuma fight—I should let you get some sleep.”

“I don’t want to sleep.” She knows once she drops Tikki’s magic, all the exhaustion of being human will settle in again, but right now she feels like she could stay awake all night. She wants to stay awake all night. She’s afraid to let him go and find out that this was all a dream.

He takes her hand in his, running the pads of his fingers against her palm like he’s committing the shape of her hand to memory. Though she just had the thought that she didn’t want to be human again, she is desperate for them to drop their magic and touch properly.

“I’ll come over tomorrow,” he promises.

“But there’s so much time between now and tomorrow,” she protests.

After six months apart, she can’t stand to face another six hours without him.

“You need to spend Christmas with your family.”

“And where am I going to spend the night?” she asks.

Now his face turns red beneath his mask and she grins mischievously at him. After years of him being the forward one, she’s happy to flip the script on him.

“Are you asking?” he says, like he can’t quite believe her.

“Are you inviting?” She bats her eyelashes in an attempt at flirtation, but it feels silly. She bites down on her lip to hold in a laugh.

“Well… I could. Nathalie is gone for a few days. We’d have the whole house to ourselves.”

She thinks of him going back to the house alone and her desire to go with him doubles. “So… are you?”

He stands and pulls her up with him. She drapes her arms over his shoulders and leans in until their noses are touching. She takes a deep breath in then pulls him into a kiss and pulls him off of the tower.

They’re falling. They’re kissing. They’re breathing.

❖❖❖

Christmas morning arrives faster than either of them would like. There are a few evening apologies dashed off once the masks drop. Adrien has to apologize to Plagg, who demands reparations in pounds of Camembert. There are also apologies made to Alya and Nino through the screen of Adrien’s phone. Adrien apologizes for pushing them away just as he had Marinette; Alya apologizes for ever suspecting him of being Flourish. Nino apologizes for failing to mention that he had once told Adrien about Carapace and Rena Rouge’s identities. Marinette and Alya forgive him, but it’s one of the more shocking reveals of the night.

And finally, Tikki and Plagg are asleep and Marinette and Adrien are truly alone and there is not much more to say to each other. They press themselves together, hands touching hands properly, her calloused fingertips brushing up his bare arm, his soft hands tugging her chin closer, lips crushed together in such a seamless union that they can’t help but wonder if they’ve been doing this forever, if this moment is the only moment of time that matters, like infinity stretched out into the past and future.

The sunrise doesn’t break it, but the sunrise is closely followed by Adrien’s phone buzzing on his nightstand.

He ignores it, but they call a second time.

Adrien, hands reluctantly daring to brave the cold beyond the blankets, fumbles for his phone long enough to catch the side button and dismiss the call. Marinette presses herself closer to him.

The phone buzzes again and they both groan loudly.

“It’s probably Alya checking on my honor,” Marinette grumbles.

“Or Nino trying to be a nuisance,” Adrien sighs and grabs the phone.

It’s neither Alya nor Nino. It’s his cousin.

Marinette dives under the covers as Adrien accepts the insistent call.

“Good morning, Félix,” Adrien says, in his best attempt at wakefulness. “Merry Christmas.”

Félix sounds plenty awake, voice crisp and cool as the winter outside, and he looks plenty awake in the video, sitting outside, wrapped in a scarf and coat with the lazy sun coming up over the park behind him. “Sorry to wake you,” he says without a hint of apology. “But I got into Paris last night and thought I ought to see you. Mother has a gift for you.”

Adrien stares up at his phone screen. “You’re in Paris?” but even as he says it, he knows it has to be true. If it’s only just sunrise here, Félix can’t be in dark, gloomy London at the moment.

“I came to visit my girlfriend, but I thought I ought to make time for you, too.”

“You have a girlfriend?”

Félix turns the camera and a young woman leans up against him. Her long, reddish-brown hair is tied in two loose tails on either side of her face. She’s wearing a pale pink scarf, pinned to an orange blouse, and Adrien stifles a gasp.

Lila Rossi slides her arm around Félix’s and smiles into the phone screen. “It’s been far too long, Adrien. How are you? We’d love to spend Christmas with you! Just tell us when you’re ready for us to come over.”

“I didn’t even know you were in the country,” Adrien finally stammers out. “I was going to spend Christmas with Marinette’s family.”

Félix and Lila’s polite smiles flicker in matching scowls, but Félix quickly smooths it over. “That’s alright. I’ll be in Paris for a while. I’ve got some business to take care of. We’ll see you another time, Adrien.”

“Merry Christmas!” Lila says effusively as Félix ends the call.

Adrien drops his phone on the nightstand and stares up at the ceiling.

“Lila?” he asks weakly.

Marinette crawls out from under the covers to join him. “Lila,” she confirms with a fair amount of acid in her voice.

“I suppose it makes sense in a Merteuil and Valmont sort of way.”

Marinette doesn’t get the reference, but Adrien’s head has always been full of an absurd amount of niche information, so she trusts it's an accurate comparison.

And suddenly Bella Moth and Flourish makes sense. Félix, who had stolen the miraculouses from Ladybug, surely could have squirreled the peacock away from Gabriel. And Lila, who had weasled her way into Gabriel’s company, must have slipped the butterfly away for herself. But how did they manage to find each other and what did they want with Chat Noir and Ladybug’s miraculouses?

Marinette slides her hand into Adrien’s. It doesn’t matter, not really. They’re stronger today than they were yesterday. They’ve become Chat Noir and Ladybug again, and they’re even more than that now.

“I think we’ll manage them easily, between the four of us,” she says. “We know who they are, but they haven’t any idea about us.”

“It’s a nice change,” he says, and smiles at her.

She kisses him again and even though they need to tell Alya and Nino about what they’ve learned, even though they need to freshen up before going to visit Marinette’s parents, even though there’s a new battlefield awaiting them in the fight against Bella Moth and Flourish, they let their kiss unwind into another moment of infinity.

All the worries will still be there on either end of this kiss, but at this moment they can set those worries aside. They’ve got time. And even when the kiss does reach its end—though they both feel as if it could not possibly come to an end—they’ll still have each other. And they’ll still have more moments like this.

[pandorama-art]

Hi pandora! I'm having a difficult time with setting up my new etsy shop. What company do you go to for producing your prints, pins, stationery, etc? (It's alright if you don't want to disclose that though). And do you have any advice from experience with etsy?, thank you for your sweet art!

Hi Berry!! I'm always happy to help, no worries. After trying out a million print services and not being satisfied with the quality, I finally just bought my own printer and print on demand. It's an Epson EcoTank ET-2720 and I feed it with some high quality Hahnemühle paper. I'm pretty satisfied with the quality, and printing on demand means I don't have to have a huge stock of prints that may or may not sell well.

Pins I actually also make myself (I'm just realizing that all this might not be very helpful to you since I diy most my products. Oops sorry). My friend has a Badgematic machine and we meet over tea in her studio to make pins every once in a while.

My stationary is one of the few things I don't make myself, I usually order it from some local companies that make promotional merchandise for businesses and choose the smallest quantity. Since I don't believe you need the highest quality paper for a little notepad that's meant to be used to write your grocery list on :-) I've been trying out different companies for those, there's always gonna be a bit of trial and error.

Oh and I order my vinyl stickers from Sticker App! Very good quality, though I have yet to sell out of a design haha.

My Etsy advice in general is to try and streamline the process of making new listings as much as possible, cause for me that was always the most annoying part. When I started out I built myself a lightbox to take product photos in and tried to make every product description unique. Nowadays I use mock ups for prints and mostly copy and paste a description with like 1 unique sentence for every product. Makes it all so much easier and less time intensive haha

Another thing that I've found to help is to have a large range of products in different price categories. Big fancy prints are great, every greater when someone can buy a cute little pin for only a few dollars to go with their new print :-) also just a large range of products is very good too, I would try to aim for at least 15 products for a start? If that's possible for you, no worries if not.

Lastly, just remember that these are only my experiences. If you find that the copy shop down the street make great quality prints, go for it and order from them! Different things may just work better for you than for me. Also, you are only one person and it's alright to take it slow before committing to buy a huge fancy printer, etc. Start where you can, there's already so much pressure on artists to sell everything they make and do marketing and branding and whatnot. Don't aim to be perfect, it's alright to just sell some art to nice people :-)

Hope this helped a little bit! I'm always happy to talk some more or answer specific questions you may have <3

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances: Ch. 24: Important Questions (Wedding)

AO3

Prev

Marinette pouts from her spot on the couch, shoving another spoonful of cookie dough in her mouth. She makes her eyes as big as possible, channeling Manon as she tries to emulate the younger girls’ puppy dog eyes.

“Silena, your kid’s eyes are breaking my heart. Look at her!” Harley cries, pointing at Marinette’s face. Silena rolls her eyes.

“Don’t give in Harls, remember what happened the last time we watched it?” Silena reminds her, and Marinette resists the urge to huff at her soon-to-be stepmom. Or, bonus mom, as she’d taken to mentally calling her. Stepmom had such an unfair negative context thanks to fairytales, and she actually really liked Silena. Except in this one moment. At this moment, they were on opposite sides of the war.

“Please Auntie Harley! Please!” She begs again, sitting up so that she can make direct eye contact with the woman. If she was any good at the ‘Manon stare’ as she called it, then Harley would be giving up in 3, 2, 1-

“Okay! I give! Looks like we’re watching Mamma Mia next.” Harley calls out, leaning over to grab the remote and turn the movie on. Marinette grins widely, settling back on the couch and curling into Selina’s side. Selina huffs.

“You’re lucky I love you, kitten. Last time we watched this Harley got in trouble for her impromptu ABBA concerts.” She complains, and Marinette’s grin widens.

“Really?” She says, then she gasps as the best idea comes to mind. “I just realized something.”

“What is it kiddo?” Harley asks, popping a handful of Reese's Pieces in her mouth.

“You guys can be Donna and the Dynamos.” She says, before miming a small explosion. This was awesome! Amazing! She could- whoa. She could even design them a group outfit with the characters in mind. She could already imagine all the ways she could improve on the original design. Of course she’d keep the bell bottoms, they were a staple of the time. And she knew her bonus mom and aunts would rock a good pair of bell bottoms. The major changes would come with the material type, the colors, and the sleeves of the suits.

“If we perform another musical on a roof Batsy’s gonna get mad.” Harley says with a sigh. Marinette purses her lips as she thinks. She was technically already on thin ice. She’d stolen the Batmobile earlier in the week, and had managed to worm her way into regular patrols. Which was technically her dad’s fault, but he still looked frustrated the first night she walked down and asked who she was patrolling with. But she was finally patrolling with them regularly, even if it felt like she had a babysitter some of the time (all of the time). She was supposed to always be with her dad or Dick (apparently she’s not allowed to go out with just Jason or Damian because they caused ‘trouble’ when they were left unsupervised). So she went, but it was more stifling than patrols in Paris. Patrols which she’d had to lighten up on, with the lack of attacks and the way it tired out Kaalki before there was even an emergency. It was wrong. But if she kept one of Gotham’s former rogues off the crime path with catchy tunes and bell bottom pants, who was her dad to judge?

---

Apparently her dad wouldn’t judge. Dick on the other hand..

“How can you do this to me? This is an absolute, utter, complete, total-”

“Dick, calm down! What’s wrong, talk to me.” Marinette hushes her older brother, looking at him worriedly. He takes a deep breath.

“I can’t believe you would stoop so low. After the hurtful things you said about my discowing suit?” He sniffles, throwing a hand over his heart. Marinette blinks, then realizes what the man was talking about.

“Is this about the Donna and the Dynamos outfits that I designed for those girls?” Marinette asks frowning. Dick lets out a pained moan, contorting his face as if he was in actual pain.

“I thought you cared about me! I thought we were close!” He cries. Marinette huffs, shoving him lightly.

“If I designed your discowing suit, it wouldn’t have been godawful. We would have used the disco elements in a way that didn’t suck. Ya know, like I did with the Sirens’ outfits?” She says, patting his back. “Just because I hated your suit doesn’t mean I hate you.” She reassures him. Though the distressed groan he lets out lets her know that he’s still taking it to heart. Oops.

---

“Hey! I’m here. I brought ice cream, like Harley asked.” Marinette announces, using the key Silena had given her to get into the apartment. She frowns at the emptiness of the apartment. She’d never seen it so devoid of life. Someone (usually Harley) was always there to greet her and pick her up into a huge hug. Not today though, which put her on edge. Creeping forward slowly, she glances around the room, looking for any potential danger. Or clues on where the Sirens might be. Had they forgotten about her? Just as she’s about to text Silena, music seeps into the apartment and she tenses. Until she sees her bonus mom and aunts. In their Dynamo outfits. Performing “Super Trouper”. With choreography and everything. Marinette lets out a short laugh, grinning widely at the three who just laugh and continue singing.

“Cause somewhere in the crowd there’s you.” Selina sings, pointing dramatically at Marinette. Marinette runs over and stands next to Silena, moving quietly and copying their movements. She’s pleasantly surprised at the level that she’s able to keep up with them, laughing with glee as the song continues. Once it’s done, the three women wrap her in a hug and Marinette’s eyebrows furrowed together.

“Ya know, I love that I got to see the outfits in action and everything, but was there a reason for the dramatics?” Marinette asks with a teasing smile. Silena glances at the other two before nodding.

“Marinette, sweetheart, I wanted to ask if you would be one of the bridesmaids.” Silena says and Marinette freezes. She swears she bluescreens. Bridesmaid? Her? She’s a disaster. She can’t do anything right and then her dad and Silena will be upset with her but then they’ll get more disappointed at each other and when she tries to fix it they won’t let her and instead they’ll send her away and say they never wanna see her again because she’s an awful bridesmaid and-

“Kitten, I need you to breathe.” Silena’s voice breaks through the haze she’s found herself in. Marinette blinks slowly, trying to break herself out of whatever hell her mind had managed to suck her into today.

“Why me?” Is what’s able to escape her mouth. It’s the only question that is able to breath past the barrier that Marinette set up for herself.

“Because you’re my daughter, whether you like it or not. So I want you to be part of the wedding, more than just someone who shows up for the food in a fancy outfit. Though that can definitely be your motivator.” Silena says, looking slightly unsure as she watches Marinette’s face- probably looking for any visible cues of discomfort. Marinette grins widely before throwing herself forward, wrapping her arms around the older woman, melting in the arms of the woman who truly was her second mom. She sighs in content at how safe she feels, how at home she is. It was strange for her, how quickly Gotham had managed to worm its way into her soul. Strange, but definitely something that they would figure out. She had to. She refused to lose either side of her family- civilian or not.

Next

Tag list:  @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @laurcad123 @waiting247 @jayjayspixiepop @mizzy-pop @jjmjjktth @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82 @lady-bee-fechin @corporeal-terrestrial

[alltooreid]

hi !!! first of congrats oh my gosh you deserve all of them and more :)

for the blurb celebration could you do a fluff for promot 30 with the reader having she/her pronouns? it could be like friends to lovers with like constant teasing banter and then theyre like oops i accidentally fell in live with you, ya dork? or whatever you want!

thank you so so much, you’re so sweet!! and i love this request omg!!

Prompt: #30: “i'm sick and tired of your attitude”

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Type: Fluffiest Fluff

Word Count: 1.1K

Content Warnings: None! (I think, please let me know if I’m missing something!)

***

“There’s my favorite loser!” Y/N said, ruffling her best friend Spencer Reid's hair as she walked past his desk. “So, what are you doing tonight babe?”

When Y/N started at the BAU, Spencer remembered being overwhelmed and nervous whenever she called him babe, until she called Morgan babe for getting her coffee and Garcia babe when she met her for the first time. What really confirmed for him that Y/N would call anything and everything babe is when she told Hotch “Good morning babe,” on pure accident because she was so used to using it in everyday conversation.

Now Y/N was his best friend, and he found her calling him babe kind of annoying and comical, instead of romantic and flirtatious. However, he couldn’t help but blush when she would ruffle or play with his hair. But Spencer had convinced himself that was a completely natural response, that it meant nothing, and that he definitely had no feelings for Y/N.

“Nothing, really. I’ll probably just stay home,” Spencer said. “I just bought a first edition copy of Pride and Prejudice that is practically begging to be read.”

She rolled her eyes over-dramatically, Spencer laughed, knowing she didn’t actually mean it and was just trying to mess with him. “Or you could do something way better. Instead of reading an incredibly boring book written in old English, you could come to my apartment and we could watch the movie! It’s really good, I promise even you’ll love it.”

Spencer smirked, “I don’t know, movie night sounds fun and all. . .  Maybe I’ll see if Emily wants to watch it with me.”

She laughed, “Oh so now you’re too good for me huh?”

“Maybe I'm just sick and tired of your attitude Y/N,” he said while smiling, they both knew that wasn’t true at all. Spencer found it comforting that Y/N was just as humorous with him as she was with everyone else, sometimes even more so. He often felt that because he was awkward around his coworkers and didn’t always get their sarcasm or jokes that he wasn’t included in the more silly, mundane “water cooler talk.”

Sometimes when he would try to include himself, he would begin to ramble, and by the time he was done most of his friends had walked away. Even more times they would just interrupt him so that he would stop talking.  Yet whenever he would attempt to make himself more conversational, everyone seemed to think it was stupid and a useless endeavor.

But with Y/N, Spencer knew she was willing to take the time to make jokes with him and listen to his interests. So when Y/N made fun of him, he knew that it wasn’t out of malice. He felt comfortable exchanging banter with her; he was never scared of annoying her or messing something up.

“I don’t know how much I believe that Reid. . .  but if you insist I guess I’ll just have to see if Penelope would like this chocolate frosted donut with sprinkles…. What a shame.”

“Wait! Y/N I still definitely want that.”

“Well I’m sure Penelope does as well, and she likes my attitude,” she said, giggling as she walked away.

Not too long after however, Y/N was back, and surprised Spencer by hugging him from behind and nuzzling her head on his shoulder. “Just kidding dork, I would never do that to you,” she dropped the donut onto his desk, “but! I would consider it if you don’t come watch Pride and Prejudice with me tonight.”

He laughed “Don’t worry Y/N, I’ll be there.”

“Yes! I knew it! Pride and Prejudice is on! 7 pm, my apartment, and you better bring snacks.”

She squeezed him again, and then went back to her desk, spinning around a couple of times in her chair and smiling.

Spencer couldn’t help but smile as well, both at the sight in front of him and his newest realization, one that he had buried deep inside himself ever since Y/N started at the BAU.

He was in love with his best friend.

***

“Spencer! You’re finally here! Did you bring snacks?” Y/N said, practically jumping off her couch as Spencer let himself inside; she had a terrible habit of always leaving her door unlocked when she was home.

“What do you mean finally?” he asked, “I’m ten minutes early?”

“Yeah but I’m starving and I really wanna watch this movie,” she radiated excitement, “Now come sit down and cuddle with me.”

This was one of those things that should have made Spencer realize just how much he loved Y/N. Platonic cuddling was not something Spencer was used to, but when it came to Y/N he looked forward to it. Yet now the realization that it was only platonic on one end made Spencer feel awkward.

“You seem tense babe. What’s wrong?” Y/N asked.

“It’s nothing,” he lied.

“Don’t play that game with me Spencer, you’re my best friend. I love you, I know you better than I know myself, you can tell me anything.”

He sighed, “That’s the problem Y/N, you love me, but I realized today that I don’t just love you, I’m in love with you.”

Y/N’s mouth was wide open, and for a second when he looked at her Spencer thought he had ruined everything.

That was until she fit her mouth to his.

“I realized a week ago, it hit me like a truck. When I went to your apartment after the Oregon case, and you read me to sleep because it had affected me so much. I just remember lying there, eyes half shut, and thinking ‘I want to spend the rest of my life with this man, I want to come home to this every single night’ and that’s when I realized I was in love with you.”

“That’s a cuter story than mine, I realized this morning. Something in me finally said that there was no way best friends felt the way I feel around you.”

Y/N pushed his hair off his forehead and planted a kiss there, “Look at us dork,” she said with her lips still brushing the top of his head, “We accidentally fell in love with each other.”

Spencer smiled and then laughed, “Yeah, I guess we did.”

***

taglist!!: @reidingmelodies @hercleverboy @rigatonireid @muffin-cup @takeyourleap-of-faith @wheelsup @spenxerslut @averyhotchner @widow-cevans @laurnrnlds @samuel-de-champagne-problems

let me know if you would like to be added or removed!!

please reblog and let me know what you think!! :))

or send me direct feedback here!

thank you again for this request! if anyone else would like to send request for my 300 celebration please refer to these guidelines!!

[oingo233]

You Are Beautiful (1)

Summary: Sirius Black was entranced since the moment he saw you. He had to have you but you are convinced his feelings are fleeting, and will only hurt you. People inside and outside of your relationship meddle in the makings of something that could be beautiful... or disastrous. Will love and confidence win? Or will doubt and uncertainty tear you both down?

Young Sirius Black x Pus SizedFemReader

Warning: one inappropriate joke lol, fluff I suppose and nothing else really. All the real stuff comes later :0

Authors note: I mostly write my xreader fics as neutral but as this is a request, I wrote this as fem. But if anyone would like a male version or neutral version let me know and I will copy this but obviously change readers gender (and it's no burden to me I'd love to make more readers feel included and represented). Also reader is plus sized and she is confident and strong throughout the fic -because plus sized characters aren't represented like that in film/books alot (but if looking for amazing and empowering plus sized female characters Nina Zenik from Six of Crows owns my entire heart and changed how I saw myself personally and I would recommend that book for anyone really)- but as any human she has her insecurities because beauty standards are unattainable and have a way excluding so many people and making us feel less than beautiful. As a plus sized/overweight person myself, I understand how we have to fight to feel beautiful and fight this internalized bias we have when we look in the mirror. But WE ARE BEAUTIFUL. WE ARE WORTHY OF MAGAZINGE COVERS AND COMPLIMENTS AND ABOVE ALL SELF LOVE!! The self insert character in this has fought for her confidence, but it will shake and stumble throughout the series and Sirius and friends are there for her to help her realize for herself how beautiful she truly is, once again. So I hope I didn't stray too far from the request :) Enjoy....

Word Count: 1.8

Authors Note: About halfway through I decided to make it a series oops-

****Blabbering Idiot****

Sirius Black is a man of many, many words. In fact, I'm sure if he was writing this he could quickly turn it into one of the most entertaining novels ever written. He'd describe the laughter of his friends for a whole page. Tell a hilarious joke on the next. Then he'd describe the wind blowing through the open halls and courtyard and the spring sun. He could write about a great many things in great detail. (But he wouldn't because he doesn't quite enjoy writing as much as he does anything else, but that's above the point.)

As I said, Sirius Black is a man of many words. So it was such a curious thing when he first saw you. It was an astounding thing really, because for the first time he found something that rendered him completely speechless.

The sun was peeking through the open corridor and pooled onto you, caressing your skin and hair in an ethereal glow. Highlighting curves that brought both sinful and sweet thoughts running through him. It was as if the universe was telling him, look at what we've created, look at this beautiful creature. But he could hardly believe that this world could create something so lovely and kind. You threw your head back in laughter at something your friend said and suddenly the world is back to normal and all he can hear is your laughter and the sound of his friends curiosity at what could have possibly kept him from the conversation about muggle rock compared to Wizard bands. In fact, James was so passionate about it half the hall turned to listen to his rendition of The Chain by Fleetwood Mac.

But he didn't care, he took a feeble step towards you and suddenly felt so nervous his hands began to sweat. He stuttered and coughed up his words just for a simple "hello" in your direction only for the wind blowing through the halls to carry it away. And his friends laughed at him as he watched you walk too far from where he wanted you. Because, oh did he want you.

Sirus POV:

"I'm telling you, I won't be able to sleep tonight unless I know who she is," Sirius says for not the first time that evening. James started to laugh.

"Why? Because you'll be too busy thinking of her?" James said, laughing as he made a very suggestive hand motion. Peter cackled and Remus rolled his eyes, trying to find the cleaner side of his humor but instead he couldn't help but snort. Sirius pushed James's shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm sure Lily would love to know how familiar with that feeling you are," Sirius says and James stopped laughing immediately, his eyes narrowed.

"Please, you wouldn't dare. And I will deny all accusations, you'll be made out to be a liar. Then the mystery girl will never love you. Is that what you want, Pads?" James joked with a single arch of his brow. Sirius just rolled his eyes. He was only half paying attention, he has been scouring the hallways since he first saw that girl. He wanted to speak to her again, or maybe just stare for a bit. If things went well, he'd be able to do both those things on a date. But he hasn't seen her since that morning and his heart felt oddly shallow. He wanted those butterflies he had when looking at her to come back and overwhelm him again.

"What'll it matter if I don't even know who she is? Or- or if I can't talk to her? No one falls in love with a blabbering idiot," Sirius says. Remus shrugs.

"Lily fell in love with James," he says, Peter laughed again.

"Yeah, regardless of what he does at night," Peter added and now both James and Sirius were rolling their eyes. James and Lily just recently stopped denying their feelings for one another and gave into the sexual tension and mutual pining. Their relationship was still fairly new but they act as if they've been together for years. Sirius supposed that in a way, they have been.

Sirius would watch them giggling, hand and hand in the hall. He'd see them cuddling in the common room, or coming back after dates with rosy cheeks and beaming smiles. Sirius would never admit it out loud, but his heart cried out when he saw them like that. He rarely ever felt lonely. He could have any girl or boy he wanted if he really tried, but for what? One fun night? Only for one more morning where he wakes up alone? He wanted more than that whenever he saw Lily and James, their happiness was palpable. Their love was suffocating.

Sirius always thought he'd find the one after Hogwarts, if at all. But when he saw her... well that changed everything. In a flash he saw himself with her, their hands intertwined and her head thrown back in laughter. Rosy cheeks and bruised lips. Warm beds and making love... being in love. He nearly felt silly after and yet, he knew that even if he did sleep tonight, it would be her he'd dream of.

"Ello' guys!" Lily said, bouncing up to James who kissed her cheek. They walked with their arms looped and Sirius glared at the easy sign of affection. He thought of his parents, how they would be stiff with one another except for in quiet moments, when he'd pass through a hall and glance into their room. He'd spot a quick kiss on the cheek, and soft squeeze of the hand. It were those odd moments for him, that struck him so strongly with a sharp bitterness. They don't deserve softness and love, he'd think, how can such cruel creatures even feel such things? But even then, he'd walk away seeing them as still awful creatures born from the depths of hell, but more human.

"That's her," Sirius whispered so quietly Remus almost didn't hear it. In fact, Sirius didn’t think Remus heard it at all, but it was rather his look of longing towards the Great Hall entrance that gave him away. Because standing right there, was you.

Your hair was a little wind blown, messy around your face, bits of iit shaped your round cheeks and soft eyes. Sirius eyed you up and down and cursed clothes and cursed shyness and cursed his own head for thinking he could even talk to you. But most of all, he cursed a group of boys who walked past you.

Sirius was a confident boy, he knew how to spot someone who held their head up just as high as he did, and you were very much one of those people. You were giggling as you stole a biscuit from a friend and popped it into your mouth, you covered your mouth as you laughed when they complained with a little smile of their own.

"It's just so yummy, and I haven't eaten since breakfast." He heard you say, your friend just shook his head and handed you a plate as you sat down next to him. But right before you could get comfortable a sneering group of boys stole a piece of food from your hand and said something rather rude.

Sirius didn't even realize he had been walking towards you, this girl he has never even spoken too, yet thought of so endearingly, until he was standing right before the boys and had the pack leaders wrist firmly in his grip.

"Drop it boy, c'mon, drop it," he teased. It was humiliating for the boy and he knew it by the laughing and sneering others directed towards the group of boys, but Sirius did not care. The boy dropped the biscuit and looked as if his tail was tucked into his legs. "Good boy," he said, ruffling his hair until it was a knotted mess, the boy winced at just how hard Sirius dug his knuckles into his scalp, Sirius relented with a satisfied smirk.

Sirius’s voice took on a much harsher tone, "Now scram." The boys were out of their seats and in new ones within seconds.

Sirius felt his mood shift completely once they left, because now all eyes were on him, yours included. He looked up at you rather shyly, his hair falling in strands over his forehead. He tucked it behind his ear and found some confidence in the way your eyes followed the movement and how you blushed. He gave you his best smile, hoping his charm wasn't as weak as his legs felt at that moment.

"Hello, I'm Sirius... Sirius Black." Then, like an idiot he put his hand out for you to shake, what charmer just shakes the ladies hand? He stopped belittling himself the moment you softly placed your hand in his.

"It's nice to meet you, Sirius, and thanks for helping me. I know how to handle those filthy 'dogs'" you said, smiling as you remembered the way he spoke to them, he chuckled. "But I suppose it's nice not always having to," you finished with a bright smile on your face. He felt his own cheeks heat up and he nodded but could not think of anything better to say.

"Name," he said, you raised your brows. He cleared his throat, "your name?"

"Oh, how rude of me," you said and then you laughed, that same laugh that caught his attention and has yet to let go. "I'm (y/n) (y/l/n)."

"Nice to meet you," he said, it was as if he couldn't feel the appalled stares of your friends because all he could see was the blush on your cheeks and your head thrown back in laughter. He swallowed thickly before making his way back to his friends. They all wore raised brows and smirks, and he knew they were about to bite into him.

"Treating them like dogs, really? A bit ironic don't you think," Lily said, James shrugged

"That's why it was so good," he said, high fiving Sirius.

"But it admittedly went downhill from there," Peter was sure to add, just like Sirius knew one of them would. Sirius just laughed, too elated to finally know who you were.

"Don't start," he said, but it was too late.

All in union they sputtered out the lame word that will plague Sirius' memory of that moment forever, "Name?"

They cackled at him and ruffled his hair all the way to their seats, but Sirius knew they were pleased for him. And Sirius didn't mind, he could feel the pretty eyes of a pretty girl following him across the room. If only someone told him how important she would become to him, maybe he would have looked back at her and never looked away.

Taglist <3

@enchantedblackrose

[rainydaydream-gal18]

The Mandalorian - Imagine Din Being Protective (Part 4)

Wow.  I got it done during a lunch break, and I’m so happy.  This is set near the end of Season 2.   It is pretty long, just a fair warning. 

Warnings: spoilers for near-end of Season 2, blasters, brief fighting.

   You watched the unusual exchange unfold before you before Mayfeld’s gaze swept over the group before flickering back to land on you.  He seemed to puff out his chest a little as he eyed you with interest.  “And who’s this lovely miss?”  Wonderful.  Just fantastic.

   Over the last several days, you learned that the Empire had been steadily recuperating behind the scenes.  The Razor Crest had been obliterated in the matter of seconds.  But worst of all, the Grogu was taken.  It was like one giant nightmare that you were waiting to wake up from, only to find yourself lying in a cot aboard the Razor Crest.  But you didn’t.  Instead, you were standing in the middle of a junkyard to recruit a prisoner who could help locate the child.  

   Now to top it off, this scruffy guy was hitting on you?

   You gave him a look, arms folded across your chest.  “The name is _________.”

   “Yeah?  Nice name for a nice girl.”

   Cara Dune made a fake wincing sound.  “I would back off if I were you.”

   He gave a shrug.  “I don’t hear her complaining.”

   “You better hope she doesn’t,” Cara taunted, giving him a warning look.  

   Mayfeld narrowed his eyes.  “Or what?  The Mandalorian is going to shoot me?”  He gave a laugh, shaking his head at the idea.

   “Thinking about it,” Din sighed in annoyance, the beskar chestplate rising and falling dramatically with the gesture.  He stood, hand resting on his belt in a casual stance just across from you, completely unaware of how content you were observing him in moments like this.  A part of you wondered if his annoyance with Mayfeld stemmed from his past experience working with the man, or if even a small part was because of the obvious flirt attempt he made at you.

   The prisoner’s eyes widened and brows lifted incredulously as he gestured to you.  “What, is this your girl now?  Finally got over Xi’an, eh?”

   You tried to keep the surprise and curiosity from your expression at the mention of this female, but your eyes instinctively darted to Din, whose visor was still glued to Mayfeld and refused to look your way.  The man caught this subtle expression and smirked.

   “Oops, sorry,” he shrugged with mock regret.  “Didn’t tell her about the ex, I guess.  I’ll try and keep things on the down-low then until you have a chance to talk about it.”

   You hadn’t asked Din too much about his past.  He expressed his disdain for the way he used to be, so you figured it was something best left untouched until he was ready to speak more on the subject.  Of course you didn’t want to assume that he had never had a love interest before, but he seemed so closed-off when you met him.  It was hard to imagine anyone could melt that ice.  Unless this Xi’an was something special.

   You felt a twinge in your chest.  It was like jealousy walked through the front door unannounced and picked a place to crash for a while.  It wasn’t taking over, but could be bothersome if you paid too much attention.  So you decided not to.  There were too many other things to worry about.

   “Alright, let’s get moving,” Cara said impatiently.  “We’re wasting time.”

   You boarded Boba Fett’s ship, taking your seat as the others did. The new ally began the take-off, and several seconds passed in silence before Din spoke up.  Mayfeld scoffed at the idea of obtaining coordinates to Moff Gideon’s ship.  Cara sighed and informed him that the kid was taken.

   The kid.  The child.

   Your little baby.  You kept seeing his face, his tiny green features and big brown eyes.  You pictured him happy as he sipped some broth and smiled at you.  Or the time shortly after you learned from the former jedi that his name was Grogu.  You and Din spent the afternoon calling him that and sharing laughs at how his ears perked.  The image was replaced with the most recent memory you had of him, when he was ripped right from your arms by strange droids at the seeing stone. You glanced down at your arms, heart sinking.  The bruises those droids left had already healed from bacta patches, but your arms had never felt so empty.

   Your thoughts were interrupted by Din’s disbelieving tone.  “Morak?  There’s nothing on Morak.”

   “It’s a secret Imperial mining hub, okay?”  Mayfeld replied.  “If you can get me in there, I can get you the coordinates.”

   Silence fell over the group again.  Cara glanced your way, looking as if she wasn’t sure whether to believe the prisoner or not.  You gave a shrug.  This was Din’s idea, and if he thought it would work, you trusted him.

   Din commed Boba.  “Fett, punch in the coordinates to Morak.”

   “Copy that.”

----------

   “I did an initial scan of the planet,” Boba said.  “This is what you’re talkin’ about, right?”

   Mayfeld gave a nod, pointing to the holomap.  “Yeah, that’s the refinery right there.”

   “Wonder what they’re refining in there,” Fennec mused.

   “Looks like rhydonium.  Highly volatile and explosive.”

   “Yeah, kinda’ like this one, huh?”  Mayfeld chuckled, gesturing to Cara.

   From where you stood, you could see Boba’s look of unamusement and practically feel Din’s annoyance as the two stared at him.  That sight almost made you laugh, but the situation wasn’t exactly a laughing matter.

   The group speculated on the measures the Empire had taken to keep its refinery secure.  It didn’t sound like getting in would be very easy.  Fortunately, between a criminal, three bounty hunters, a New Republic officer, and you, a pretty decent plan was cooked up.  They were going to hijack a delivery truck and infiltrate the refinery that way.

   The question was, who?  Who was going to hop into the truck with Mayfeld?

   As it turned out, neither Cara nor Fennec could.  The ex-ISB had rigged the scanners, and both of them would be recognized in the database.  Even Boba couldn’t, and while the others stared at him in confusion, you chuckled under your breath.  You even heard a hint of amusement in his tone as he said that they might recognize his face.

   “Great, so it’s me going in alone,” Mayfeld shrugged.

   “No way,” Cara protested.  “The minute he gets inside, he’ll tip ‘em off.  He’ll be a hero.”

   “Hey, this wasn’t my idea,” he pointed out, offended.  “I’m doin’ you guys a favor.”

   “I can go.”  You spoke up much quieter than you intended, and the bickering didn’t stop, so you tried again.  “I can go with Mayfeld.”  At that, the conversations around you came to a halt as they considered the idea.  Cara nodded, impressed, while Mayfeld eyed you curiously.

“You, uh, sure you can handle it?”  He folded his arms.

“I’ve been traveling with Mando for a while now, and I’ve helped him and Cara on multiple occasions,” you told him.  “I think I can handle walking in there and laying low while you get the coordinates.”

He held his hands up in understanding.  “Well, okay.  I think it’ll work.”

You stole a glance at Din to see his visor already fixed on you.  It was that stare.  The protective one that made you feel safe from everything else, yet vulnerable to him.  It was like the air was stolen from your lungs for just a moment.  You figured he would protest, but you hadn’t expected what he’d say next.

“I’ll go,” Din volunteered.

   Mayfeld’s gaze traveled to him, and he scoffed.  “Hey buddy, I might be good at fast-talking, but I don’t think I can explain away a guy in a Mando suit to Imperial guards.  So unless you’re gonna’ take off that helmet, it’s gonna’ be me and _________ heading in there.  Or say goodbye to your little green friend.”

   “That’s not an option,” you argued, feeling the pain well up at his words.  You couldn't imagine what Grogu was going through, even now as the lot of you debated how this situation was going to play out.  You didn’t want to think about it, but you kept seeing him reaching for you.

   Din’s words drew the gazes of the entire group.  “__________ isn’t going in there.  I’m coming with you instead.  But I won’t show my face.”

   “No, Mando, even if you’re going, I’m going too.”  You blinked away the tears that had just started to blur your vision, fortunately catching them before they fell, and looking at him with resolve.  “I can’t stand by and do nothing.  Not with our baby being held by the Empire.”

   It was suddenly quiet.  Much too quiet.  And that’s when you realized your mistake.  You hadn’t called Grogu the baby.  Or even just his baby.  You had definitely used the word our.  It made you want to vanish into the jungle- especially when you took in how the group was looking at you.  Cara’s lips parted in a surprised smirk as she tipped her head slightly.  Fennec raised a brow, though her expression didn’t betray her intrigue in any other way.  Even Boba Fett’s eyes seemed to soften; whether it was over your expression of care for the child or out of pity at your slip-up, you weren’t sure.  You didn’t even want to look at Din, but you found yourself staring into his visor, searching for some indication of his feelings on the matter.  There was nothing, just silence.  Mayfeld sighed, though it didn’t sound like exasperation.  It almost sounded sympathetic.

   “Look, typically for a delivery like this, there’s only two troops,” he pointed out, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.  You looked to him, glad for the attention to be taken off of you.  He caught your pleading gaze and let out another sigh.  “It’s uncommon, but not unheard of.  I think we can get by with the three of us.  But you gotta’ lay low, like you said.”  He pointed at you, and you nodded.  “Alright.  We’ve got to go.”

   The nerves were building up in your chest as you, Cara, Din, and Mayfeld dropped onto the juggernaut.  This wasn’t like going undercover at the cantina.  This was a whole other experience entirely, but you felt ready.  Before long, the two troops were taken out, and their armor taken away.

   Din disappeared around a corner to change out of his Mandalorian armor and into the Imperial trooper gear.  Mayfeld complained about the smell of his newly acquired armor, and you were grateful to be wearing the spares that were tucked away.  You found a spot on the juggernaut to slip the armor on.  It wasn’t built for a female, so it wasn’t the best fit.  Still, it would have to work.

   Suddenly, Mayfeld chuckled.  “Look at this.”  You peeked your head out of the juggernaut to see what looked like a trooper approaching, but you knew to be Din.  “Oh, the shame.  Now that right there is worth the price of admission.”

   “Wish I could say it looked good on you,” Cara said, smirking.  “But I’d be lying.”

   Din ignored her statement.  “Just make sure you take out the rooftop gunners, or we’re never getting out of there.”

   “We got you.”

   “Take care of this.”  Din handed her the duffel with his Mandalorian armor.  “Keep it safe.”  As Cara took it, she assured him with a sincere look that she would.  You knew she would.  Like you, she knew what it meant to him.

   “Hey guys. Still on the clock,” Mayfeld reminded them.  “Me and _________ are all ready to go.  Right?”  He leaned over and gave your boot a nudge from where he sat.

   You shrugged and were glad to pull the trooper bucket over your head.  For once, you could be the mysterious face under the helmet.  “I’m ready when you’re ready.”  Not to mention your voice sounded pretty cool in the modulator.  Such a shame that it was a stormtrooper helmet because you could get used to this.

   While Mayfeld was busy taunting Din in an unsuccessful attempt to get a reaction, you looked to Cara.  

   “Wish me luck.”

   “Oh, I will.”  She shot a glance at the chatty man.  “Considering the company you’re going to have.”  Then she looked back at you with that smirk from before.  “So what was that about earlier?”

   You pulled the Imperial bucket off your head so that the modulator wouldn’t broadcast your voice.  “I don’t know what happened, Cara.  I can’t believe I said that.  We’re definitely more than travelling companions at this point.  I care a lot about him. I think I even... ”

   She nodded, smirk becoming a more reassuring smile.  “I understand.  It seems like he feels the same about you.”

   “Still, I’m afraid that I overstepped in calling Grogu our child.”  You shook your head.  “He hasn’t spoken to me since.”

   “Well there’s not a whole lot of time to talk, and it’s the kinda’ thing that takes time to sort out,” she pointed out.  “I’m sure it’ll be fine-”

   “Hey, if you two ladies are done, we have to get moving,” Mayfeld called.

   “Yeah, yeah,” you groaned, pulling the helmet over your head again.  You clambered into the front of the juggernaut to get situated.  The two guys were already seated and taking a look at the vehicle’s controls.  Mayfeld seemed content to be with his helmet off, while Din of course kept his on.

   “Feels better when it’s off,” he commented, glancing over at his companion.  Din’s trooper helmet simply turned to look in his direction.  He gave a smile in response before turning his attention to the road again.  “__________, you too, huh?”

   “I don’t ever get to wear a helmet, so I’m just enjoying this while it lasts.”

   “You’re enjoying this?” Din asked.  His tone didn’t seem to carry any disdain, just innocent curiosity.

   “Well, not this.  I mean the helmet.  It’s nice to have some privacy when I’m surrounded by people who get to cover their faces.  You guys don’t know whether I’m smiling or what in here.”

      “You’re smiling right now,” Din said, making you turn your visor in his direction suddenly.

   “How did you know that?”

   “I can hear it in your voice.”  And as if to prove his point, you picked up on the amusement in his tone as well.

   Right.  You forgot for a moment that he had a lifetime to discern emotions through helmets, being that he was a foundling in a Mandalorian community and all.

   “You know, you two are just adorable,” Mayfeld interjected humorously.  “Seriously, I’m touched.”

   The conversation died down again after that.  You were rather pleased with the exchange you had with Din.  At the very least, he didn’t seem irritated with you about your earlier statement.  Things seemed to be going rather smoothly.

- - - - - - - - - 

   You’d never been so happy to see Imperial troops in your whole life.  As Mayfeld pulled the juggernaut into the safety of the Empire base, they flooded the bridge and fought off the oncoming pirates.  Din had re-entered the vehicle, groaning in pain from his fight.  You noticed his armor had been busted off in some places from the fight.

   “Mando,” you said softly, hand on his forearm.  

   His visor looked to you as he said in a strained voice, “I’m alright.”  His reassurance put you somewhat at ease.  You knew he wasn’t really fine- he had injuries- but he was okay.  He made it.

   “Never thought you’d be happy to see stormtroopers.”  Mayfeld saluted the line of troops that saluted and waved as the vehicle passed by, most likely to make things convincing.  He and Din stepped out of the juggernaut to be met with actual applause and cheers.  One even clapped a gloved hand on Mayfeld’s shoulder in congratulations.  It would have been heartwarming if not for the fact that it was the Empire, and these people were working toward an oppressive future.  You hopped out of the vehicle, glad to be on solid ground and not on a shaky roadtrip with rhydonium in the back.

   “Okay,” Mayfeld said.  “All we gotta’ do is find a terminal.”  You moved to Din’s other side, and the three of you began making your way through the crowd of cheering troops.  His gloved hand took yours for just a moment and gave it a light squeeze, and you returned the gesture before separating.  “Should be in the officers’ mess.”

   “I’ll stand by and keep an eye out,” you said.

   “Good,” Mayfeld nodded.  “We’ll make it quick.”  You watched as the two men headed for the mess hall, and you found a spot along the wall to wait, bucket tucked under your arm.  The occasional trooper stopped by to congratulate you or give you a pat on the back.  This extended contact with Imperials was starting to get to your nerves.  

   Mayfeld and Din still hadn’t returned.  Whether you were being paranoid or not, you weren’t sure.  Better to play it safe.  You headed in the direction they had gone earlier, helmet still under your arm, and tried to act casual.  Mayfeld was standing at the doorway, eyes shifting between the floor and his surroundings.  No sign of Din.

   “Where is he?” you demanded.  “Is he okay?”

   “He’s in there.”

   You followed his gaze to the mess.  Everyone in the room had their helmet off.

   “I don’t see him.”

   Mayfeld sighed.  “He’s over there by the terminal.”  Both of you leaned in to sneak a glance, and you gasped softly.  You saw his form standing there in the very back, head of messy brown hair.  “I couldn’t go in.  He had to do a facial scan to get the information.”

   “You could’ve gotten me to do it.”

   “That’s exactly what I said.”  He shook his head.  “But we wasted enough time as it is.  He was worried about you going in there alone.  You know, he’d really do anything for that kid, and for you.”

   Oh, Din.

   “Trooper,” an officer said, and his eyes were fixed on the dark-haired man in the corner that you knew was the man you’d fallen for.  He rose from his seat, and your heart was pounding.

   “We need to do something,” you said.

   Mayfeld shook his head, eyes on the floor.  “I can’t.  I already said can’t go in there.”

   “Fine, I’ll do it.”  You straightened up, taking a deep breath, and quickly walked through the mess until you intervened the officer’s path.  “Sir.  You called for me, sir?”

   He paused, eyes narrowing, as he stared at you.  “I was referring to another trooper.  The one by that terminal.”  He moved to get around you, but you side-stepped to block him again.  “I’m sorry, you’re sure there’s nothing I can help you with?”

   He gave you a condescending look.  “No, but thanks anyway.”

   You hoped that Din had escaped the mess because there was nothing more you could do unless you caused a big scene, which was not in the plan.

   “Trooper,” he continued, stepping around you.  But to your surprise, he was faced with another.  Din had walked over.  Inwardly you burned at the thought of the Imperial officer looking at his face.  You averted your gaze, feeling as if it would be wrong not to.  Even though you wanted nothing more than to drink in his features while you could.  

   “You should pay attention when a superior officer addresses you,” the man said.  He tipped his head to one side in observation.  “What’s your designation?”

   Din spoke, voice unmodulated and sounding so small.  You’d never heard him sound so unsure before.  “Transport crew.”

   “What?” 

   “My designation is transport copilot,” Din said, forcing his tone to sound confident as possible to make it more convincing.  

   “No, son,” the officer chided.  “What’s your TK number?”

   “My TK number is…” He hesitated, and you could do nothing but stand aside and wait, holding your breath.  How many numbers were in a TK number, anyway?

   “This is my commanding officer, TK-593, sir,” Mayfeld’s voice interjected as he strolled in front of you.  He spoke so casually that you were sure he’d pull it off.  “I’m Imperial Combat Assault Transport Lieutenant Tk-111, sir.”  He gestured to you.  “This is TK-501.”  Then, he glanced at Din.  “I’m afraid you’ll have to speak up to him a bit since his vessel lost pressure in Taanab.”

   Your eyes wandered past Mayfeld, catching another glimpse of dark, messy hair.  To some it might seem a minor thing, but to you it was adding to the escalating situation.  Brown eyes locked with yours, and your breath hitched.  Din was looking at you.  There was a trace of warmth in his eyes, and your hesitation vanished.  You took in the way his brows furrowed slightly over his eyes, crinkling them at the edges.  You memorized each feature.  His nose.  This cheekbones.  The handsome way he seemed to be looking right back you.  You quickly turned your gaze back to the officer in front of you who looked in Din’s direction.

   “What’s your name, officer?” he belted, enunciating each word.  Seeing Din’s face had been a shock, and in the middle of the stress, this officer’s behavior almost made you laugh, but you swallowed the giggle that threatened to make things worse and kept your composure.  The officer leaned in, waiting for a response.

   Mayfeld took the liberty of answering instead.  “We just call him ‘Brown Eyes.’  Isn’t that right, Officer?”  Din’s eyes flickered over as he gave a hesitant nod.

   “Come on,” Mayfeld landed a hand on his shoulder and his other one on yours to lead you away.  “Let’s go fill out those TPS reports, so we can go recharge the power coils...”

   “You’re not dismissed.”

- - - - - - -

   In short, things had gone from bad to worse.  Mayfeld was growing shakier by the minute as this guy ranted about the Empire and the sacrifices that were made so far.  You kept glancing at Din, who looked just as concerned as you, as Mayfeld visibly became more distressed.

   Finally he raised a blaster and shot the sick man across the table.  It turned into a firefight that ended just as swiftly as it began.  Once the mess hall had quieted, Mayfeld handed Din his trooper helmet.

   “You did what you had to do,” he said.  “I never saw your face.”

   Din stared at him for a moment before accepting the helmet.  He quickly put it back over his head just as more troopers arrived on the scene.  You sprung into action, pulling out the blaster at your belt and firing.

   From there, it was just a quaint little trip out the window and along a ledge above roaring waters of the refinery with several stormtroopers in pursuit.  Shots were fired.  You ran.

   It wasn’t until you were pulled further onto Boba’s ship by Din that you were able to stop and breathe.  Mayfeld was set free by Cara and Din after he blew up the Imperial refinery, and after he left, Boba set a course for Moff Gideon’s ship.  For the first time in a while, you and Din had a moment alone as he found the duffel bag of Beskar armor.  He paused as if thinking it over, before setting the duffel back down.  The stormtrooper visor was focused on you again.  You had long removed yours, and so you gazed back with your own eyes.  Suddenly, he placed a hand on either side of his helmet and slowly began to lift.

   “Din,” you whispered, quiet enough so no one else would hear, as you gently stopped him with the touch of your hand to his wrist.  He let go of the helmet only to put his hand over yours.

   “You need to know,” he began.  “About Xi’an.”

   “What?  No, no, there’s no need.”

   “I could tell it bothered you.”

   “Well, yes… Mayfeld made it sound like she was rather important, like you just finally got over her, and it bothered me that you never mentioned her.”  You shook your head.  “But I guess there was no reason for you to.”

   “There was nothing to get over,” he said simply.  “We flirted here and there.  It wasn’t anything real.  It wasn’t love.  I think Mayfeld was just bitter because you weren’t responding to his attempts.”  The chuckle that emitted from Din’s stormtrooper helmet made you smile.  It was a sound that you never imagined getting used to.

   You couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped your lips.  “Thank you.”

   “For what?”

   “For talking with me,” you replied.  “I was worried that after earlier you were irritated.”

   “Earlier?” His tone went higher ever so slightly in realization.  “Oh, right.  Your turn to talk.”

   “My turn?” you gulped.  “No way.  Let’s just forget it happened.”

   You could almost hear the amusement as he tipped his head, the visor staring at you in silence.

   You sighed in defeat, observing your hands as you fiddled with the stormtrooper gloves.  “Alright, well...the truth is, it sort of slipped out.  I think of the kid as yours because, well, you’ve been looking after him since before I met you.  And the Mandalorian we spoke to said that you are as his father, by creed.”  You paused, glancing up at his visor before continuing.  “But...I’ve also come to think of him as my own as well.  When I met the two of you, of course I thought he was a cute little guy, but I never imagined I could love someone so much.  I adore Grogu, really, even though I haven’t cared for him as long as you…”

   “That does not matter.”

   “What?”

   “It doesn’t matter that I’ve known him longer.  You care about him, and that’s what’s important,” Din nodded.

   “I do care about him.  As my own.  And with the two of us…”

   His visor was so close all of a sudden.  “The two of us…?”

   You ducked a little, recalling how he embraced you on that planet after a tense training session.  “You know.”

   “Do I?” he teased in a low voice, helmet even closer.

   “With the two of us together, sort of, I guess I thought of us as a family...I guess.  And it slipped out earlier.  In front of all those people.”  You raised a hand to cover your face in embarrassment at the memory.  Din didn’t say anything for a moment.  He reached up to pull your hand from your face gently, and with the other he lifted the stormtrooper helmet off with a deep breath.

   As you peered into those brown eyes once more, you smiled.  He smiled too then, the movement making his eyes crinkle.  It was a lovely sight, and you lifted a hand, pausing just below his chin.

   “Is it okay?”

   He gave a small nod, and you reached up to touch his cheek.  It was a little stubbly toward his jawline.  Then you went up to start at the crease between his brows and trace down the length of his nose to his lips.  He tenderly took that hand in his and kissed the fingertips.

   “We’re going to get him back,” he said.

   You smiled again.  “I know we will.”  Then, your smile faded.  “And if we find where he belongs, with a jedi, then I am prepared to do what’s best for him.”

   His eyes look sad as he responded, “me too.”

   “For now,” you said quickly.  “Next stop is Moff Gideon’s ship.  We are going to take him down and get Grogu back.”

   With that, Din leaned in and planted a feathery light kiss on your lips.  It was something you had not expected since the moment you first laid eyes on the Mandalorian.  You never imagined that you’d end up with him, seeing his face, or kissing him.  You returned the kiss, touching his cheek again as you let him pull you closer, wrapping both arms around you.

   The last few days had felt like a nightmare that you hoped to wake up from.  But now it seemed that even in the darkness there was a glimmer of hope.  The nightmare would give way to a dream.

[tundrainafrica]

Note: Instead of posting a meta or a fic today, allow me to take a quick break from that because I think I really need to appreciate some people here and the fandom overall.  

February 7, 2021. 

Today, I turned 24 and my boyfriend surprised me with a gift I think I’ll be taking to heart for a very long time. 

The story behind the gift was as precious (or even more precious) as the gift itself and I thought I’d share it since it turned out some content creators were involved in this gift and I very much want to express how much this gift has defined this day for me and will place my 24th birthday as one of those birthdays I don’t think I’ll ever forget. 

Apparently, I had casually dropped both my tumblr and my ao3 account during one of our conversations and somewhere around November he had started looking through my bookmarks, my posts on tumblr and some of my interactions with people in the fandom.

I should have seen it coming. It had started with my boyfriend suddenly asking about my hyperfixation with Levihan.

Sav? Shipping? Sav? Binge reading ships and meta posts? Sav? Gushing about a fictional ship?

And I remember gushing about this with my seemingly uninterested boyfriend a long night after explaining what was oddly the most out of character thing for someone like me. 

I was sharing with him my metas and hcs and maybe, I was dropping a few of my favorite quotes along the way and it turned out he was interested. Suddenly he was asking me about my favorite fics, my favorite scenes. Suddenly, he was rereading my favorite fics with me and a few times, he was quoting those same scenes. I did find out he was looking through my blog when I got a random message from a really sketchy tumblr telling me to open my facebook. 

I suspected a few times that he could be planning something. December passed with nothing and eventually he stopped asking so I clocked that as a fevered dream or unnecessary assuming on my end and didn’t think too much of it after. 

It turned out my boyfriend had messaged my favorite authors about their fics and he commissioned one of my favorite artists (if not my favorite) to draw a few photos and bound them into a Levihan Anthology 

And it feels fucking amazing to receive something like this. To get Levihan which helped me through the worst of 2020, bound forever as a book I can just open up and read anytime. And I guess tearing up at receiving such a gift had me thinking of a lot of things at once (which were always at the back of mind) but I thought of sharing now. 

The past year wasn’t easy. Actually. don’t think it’s an understatement to say this past year was dog shit. With the covid pandemic and all plans after that cancelled, I’m sure we can all agree we had our ups and downs. 

I had a lot of my own plans completely thrown out the window for numerous reasons. I had plans of going to law school part time while building a career. And, I got a job right after college to make these plans come true. In September the law school I got accepted to (after working so damn hard the past year to get accepted) denied my appeal for night classes. I decided to drop my enrollment to focus on my career. A week later, my job laid me off. 

And for once in my life, I wasn’t going anywhere. And I lived in a house where everyone was always doing something and as soon as I lost my job I was pressured to find another one. But as we all know, searching for a job during this pandemic isn’t easy. I was still reeling after having dropped my enrollment just to focus on my job only to lose that job the week after with no prior notice. Everyone around me was busy doing their own thing. I had no one to talk to and for a while, I was falling into this pit of depression. 

My days consisted of me hiding under the covers of my bed in between the few interviews I would take day to day. Around that time, I decided to binge watch Attack on Titan as well 

I was never one to get hyper fixated in ships. In fact, this was the first ship since Royai and Victuuri which I have been so passionate. And this is a whole new level of passion. I think this is the first time I’ve ever written so much in this small amount of time. It was slow going. Just like Levi and Hange’s relationship, my fixation with this ship was a slowburn. 

Those days alone, I was reading fanfiction by the bundle, I was scrolling through the Levihan tag like a simp, leaving kudos in ao3 on a throwaway account and just scrolling through random people’s tumblr accounts. 

What happened during the one month? And when I was alone, sad, lonely and stagnant with no one to talk to, when everyone around me was living their own lives, all I had alone in the bedroom was Levi and Hange’s stories to keep me company between interviews. 

And the meta analyses and headcanons I had about their relationship were teaching me things. They were teaching me that life was never about how quickly you progress or how far you go. Maybe the real winners in life are the ones who can build good relationships, build relationships so mutually satisfying they keep each other growing and in those few moments reading, headcanoning ships, I did realize, maybe even as stagnant as I was at that moment, my life wasn’t dogshit. 

No one’s life is dogshit for a few small bumps along the way. Sometimes it just is part of the process of growing, learning to get past the worse, learning to manage relationships. And maybe it’s these relationships which make life worth living. Maybe it’s these struggles depicted in these stories and the bounce back. Maybe it’s the love, the life, the emotions so carefully described and depicted in every single story which makes life, life. 

With every single fic I read and every single fan art I scrolled through. Levihan was teaching my things about love, loss and life. 

Sometimes, these fandoms are the things which can catch people before they fall too low into something. These works and stories authors and artists shared so generously were what pulled me out of this state and are what inspired me to explore this relationship for all the potential its worth and maybe share my own stories and headcanons which people may learn a thing or two from or maybe just find some comfort and hope in.  

And these inspirations eventually evolved to writing. Writing 10,000 words in a day in between three interviews? I never was a writer but somehow, I found myself spending hours exploring the themes of love, loss and life with our favorite pairing 

I didn’t start writing out of nowhere. I didn’t start making metas out of nowhere. I needed the right inspiration, the right content to get me into this point where I could continue writing, reading, meta-ing, appreciating, headcanoning and everything in between.

And I just wanted to express my gratefulness to every single person in the fandom who had made it possible for me to pull out of that blackhole. Fandoms are underrated and I believe there are so many lessons which can be learned from the right content and from the right people. 

To the people who so willingly went along with my boyfriend’s little project: 

@faerielleart​ I saved A LOT of your art and they’re sitting in my google photos under a folder called Levihan and maybe I did share a few of your photos (the cheeks one and the beast titan one and the les miserables) ones to my boyfriend unsolicited just to show him how beautiful Levihan can be. Thank you so much for these beautiful drawings.

@lizaloveslevihan​ You were one of the first people I talked with in this fandom and dreams really was one of those stories that fucked me up a little bit, had me make a few misses on the commute on the way home one day but maybe it did have me explore the angst genre a little more, maybe it did have me explore Levi’s character a little more. 

@ariadneamare​ YELLOW. OH GOD. You know those letters? The ones which Hange left Levi at the end of the story? I ended up copying and pasting them and sending them to my boyfriend right after reading and I remember talking to him about this. We might be facing that same type of story in the future and I guess that ended up becoming a lot of foundation of our discussion and I guess, it’s just proof that there is so much to learn from fanfiction. There’s just so much to explore and fanfiction as a genre just does not get the credit it deserves.

@fanmoose12​​ I was exploring your works even before I started this tumblr up again. Maybe it was even your works which got me building my own headcanons from Levihan and writing from there. And I think I did leave a few anonymous messages telling you how I started exploring other genres because of your fics. Your works got my out of my dark place, it got me exploring a lot of other genres and for that I’m eternally grateful.

And somehow, my boyfriend picked that all up from late night discussions and one-on-one metas. Surprisingly, he wasn’t just playing along to humor his girlfriend. He was exploring the themes of love, life, loss and Levihan right along with me. (And got spoiled about Hange’s death along the way… Oops.) 

And I am eternally grateful for that and I made sure to shower him with a lot of kisses after he kept me in the loop with what has been going on these past few months with his sudden interest in Levihan.

And this huge thank you goes out to all content creators (authors, artists, gif creators, shitposters alike). Sometimes you never know who’s thinking about your work, who’s shoehorning your works and quoting them to their best friends. Sometimes, you never will find out but your work had pulled someone out of a blackhole which they’ve been stuck in and sometimes you never know that your work has been that seemingly small thing that had taught them a lesson in love, life or relationships. Sometimes, that one work turned out to be an inspiration which got them writing and sharing their own stories or making their own drawings

And I guess, the point is, keep writing. Keep drawing. Keep sharing pouring your love, passion and emotions into works of art because you never really know whose heart you touched or whose life you changed.

I have a job now. I decided to push law school a few years back and maybe take the time to work on myself now and maybe spend the next months or maybe years writing metas and fanfictions. I was pulled out of my hole. I was inspired. I have my own stories to tell and I don’t think I would have been here if I hadn’t spent the last few months reading fic after fic, meta after meta, appreciating art after art, 

So anyway, I just wanted to share some pics of my favortie fics, immortalized in one anthology, all organized by my boyfriend. And I think he made some great decisions with these.

(Bookbinding credits to @mayerwien)

[staarshines]

HI ILY and i'm so so glad we became mutuals recently. as you know i started my rewatching spree and old feelings have reemerged so i fell in love with baby anakin all over again ;p can i request a hurt/comfort drabble where either you comfort him, or he comforts you, after a nightmare? either way works :)) THANK YOU

One of the Two, Gone || A.S.

Warnings: Nightmares, mentions of death, unresolved mutual pining (I had to sorry)

Word Count: 1.4k

You wake to a desperate Anakin calling out your name and go to see if he’s okay, eventually finding out he suffered a nightmare where you were the victim.

[A/N]: This was supposed to be a drabble but I threw that out the window oops

Nat’s 500

You’re jolted awake by screams.

Not incoherent ones, but Anakin yelling your name.

You panic for a minute before realizing you’re hearing his thoughts through the Force. 

But why was he having a nightmare about you?

Immediately getting out of bed, you hastily slip on your robes and boots and sneak out of your quarters, making sure to be actively guarding your Force signature. You didn’t want anyone awake sensing you sneaking around, and definitely not to Anakin’s quarters. The first thing they’d expect was a secret relationship between the two of you, and as the phrase goes, attachment is forbidden by the Jedi Code. You were already failing to observe that aspect of the code, since you had feelings for Anakin. You’d had feelings for him for a while, you suspected, but you realized it when you had been ready to die for him on Kuat. 

You don’t even bother to knock on the door, knowing he most likely wouldn’t respond and it would just increase your chances of being caught. You try to remember the combination, furrowing your eyebrows and contemplating just breaking the lock and opening the door with the Force. Instead, it slides open, and you’re scared that you actually did so until you see Anakin at the door, in nothing but a pair of pants. It takes everything in you to not look at his toned chest, which is shining with sweat in the dim moonlight coming through the windows.

“How—”

“You let down your guard when you were trying to remember the combination, I believe.” Fuck, he was right. Why couldn’t you just get 2187 ingrained in your head? “And our Force connection.” He was definitely right about the last part. 

When Obi-Wan decided to take on the seemingly impossible—and unconventional, although he was given approval by the council because of how high your Midichlorian count was, which rivaled Anakin’s—task of training two Padawans at once, the first thing anybody noticed was how strong the connection through the Force between you both was. Over time, it had grown stronger; so much stronger that you could practically hear his thoughts and feel his emotions from across the galaxy at times.

Remembering you weren’t supposed to be seen with him at this hour, you push your way inside and let the door slide shut with a swift swipe of your hand, turning your attention to Anakin. He doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t need to. You can hear his thoughts clearly, and as much as he doesn’t want you to, he can’t do a single thing.

Don’t tell her. She’ll only panic.

“Why are you here?” You’re more focused on his thoughts than his question, arching an eyebrow.

You can hear me, can’t you?

Yes, Anakin. I can hear you.

“Both of us know why I’m here.” You’re not quite sure why you’re having two different conversations with him. Maybe for the sake of not saying aloud what he so desperately wanted to hide from you.

Are you going to tell me or not?

He scoffs, shaking his head and walking past you to the large transparisteel window, looking out at the nightlife of Coruscant. You copy his footwork, coming up next to him and scanning the sky that was littered with stars.

“It’s beautiful. I heard the weather is going to be nice tomorrow, too.” Sarcasm is practically dripping from your voice because you know goading him into telling you isn’t going to work. Getting him angry and then eventually having him break is how this is going to go.

“Stop it.”

“What do you want me to talk about, then?”

“Nothing! Why are you even here?”

“We’ve covered that.” His head snaps to you and you turn your head smoothly to meet his, eyeing him with a defiant expression on your face.

“I’m fine. Go back to sleep; we’re supposed to leave for a mission in the morning.” 

“All right.” He seems to be surprised by your sudden compliance, but he realizes what you mean when you flop down on his bed, starting to take off your boots. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Going back to sleep.” He groans, running a hand through his hair. You take the opportunity to steal a glance at his perfectly toned body. The light coming from Coruscant’s buildings only helps define his abs and his back, making you gulp. You can feel his gaze on you and you tear your eyes away from his body, returning the death stare he was giving you. “We both know I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“I hate you,” he mumbles, making his way to the bed and lying down, staring up at the ceiling.

Don’t tell her. For the love of the Maker, don’t tell her. She’ll think you’re weak.

For the love of the Maker? This must be some hell of a thing you’re keeping from me, Ani. And I’m never going to think you’re weak.

He breaks his stare with the ceiling to turn his head and look at you. You didn’t know it, but you were tearing down his walls with every single day that passed. Every so often he’d push you out of his heart—painfully—but you’d find your way back in less than a day. He could never really get rid of you or his feelings for you.

If only you knew.

“You’re reading all my thoughts; you must already know,” he snaps, prompting a sigh from you.

“I’m not reading them, I’m hearing them. All I know is that you had a nightmare and I was in it. You were calling out for me,” you explain at his groan, watching him wipe sweat from his forehead. “Ani, please.” The desolation in your two words is what finally breaks him. He’d imagined you getting hurt and him not being able to save you, and now he was hurting you.

“We… We were on a mission. Some desert planet or something; I’m not really sure. We were battling Dooku and you caught a lightsaber to the chest and…” he trails off and you close your eyes. “You died. In my arms. There was nothing I could do about it.”

“Ani—”

“I begged you to stay awake. To fight it, to not pass into the Force and leave me. But you didn’t listen. I lost you.” The anguish laced into his voice kills you.

Anyone else hearing about this would immediately know he has feelings for you that he’s pushing away, but you’re vehemently denying it. This is Anakin Skywalker. Quite possibly the Chosen One. And if he wasn’t the Chosen One, you were. Neither of you could risk a relationship right now.

“I’m here now,” you whisper, moving closer to him and lying down next to him. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, as if he’s trying to make out whether you’re real or not.

“I know. But you’re just so reckless on missions—”

“Look who’s talking—”

“—and I’m worried that we’ll lose you. That the galaxy will lose the Chosen One.” He means it as a term of adoration; the both of you would throw that term back and forth either with love or menace because nobody truly knows which one out of you both is the Chosen One.

“Truthfully, I don’t think it’s me. I think it’s you.” He just hums, preoccupied with that same strand of hair he’s been playing with for a while now. “Are you okay now?” He nods slightly, shifting his eyes to meet yours. You give him a small smile before slowly getting up, watching him frown.

“Where are you going?”

“Like you said, we have a mission in the morning and I’m going to fall asleep here if I lie down any longer. And it’s a hell of a lot harder to sneak around in the mornings.” You’re not completely lying. The main reason is that you’ve wanted to sleep with him by your side for so long that you’re sure you’ll blurt out your true feelings for him. Again, neither of you could risk that right now.

“But—”

“Anakin,” you start, grabbing his arm and sitting him up so he’s facing you. “I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re both fine, and nobody is dead. I would never die on you.” He still doesn’t seem convinced, so you gently press your forehead to his.

Your lips are less than a couple inches away from his, and you swear either of you could initiate a kiss in this moment.

But you can’t, and neither can he. Because of the Jedi Code. The galaxy. The Chosen One. 

You pull back because you know what you’re capable of, what your feelings are capable of making you do. He just nods, letting you know it was okay to leave.

“Goodnight, Ani.”

Masterlist

All taglists are open! Send me an ask or a message :)

Permanent: @becausewhyknotme, @criminal-cookies, @theladyoffangorn, @officialtonystarkprotectionsquad, @justmebeingtheweirdmeiam, @fantasticcopeaglepasta, @talk-geek-to-me, @letsmellowjello, @thescarletknight2014, @wemisshim3000, @arabellathorne, @brooklynsmorales, @marvel-dameron, @marvelinsanity

Star Wars: @kittyofalltrades, @arkofblake, @m1rkw00dpr1ncess, @propertyofdindjarin, @loshiflow, @coldbreadbouquetworld, @melvls, @waatermelon-sugaar, @thedevilwearsbeskar

[ltleflrt]

I would love some more mean advice, I'm taking notes because this is a goldmine

lol honestly, the advice about not starting a fic with Life Story Infodump or Daily Grind Infodump is the most important thing I can think of. Since nearly all of the times I back out of a fic, it’s because of one of those two things.  Just about everything else I can think of is pretty minor and won’t make me quit reading.  But here’s a few things I think might be helpful just for giving a story some extra shine.

1. Minute detail of a process is rarely necessary.  Gloss over how something works unless the details have something to do with plot. For instance, if Dean is making tacos for dinner, just say Dean gets to work preparing tacos. Don’t talk about warming up the shells, or browning the meat, or slicing the veggies.  Unless it’s plot related. If Dean makes checklists and crosses things off to soothe anxiety, then those details are important, but make it clear that he’s self-soothing.  Or if Cas is allergic to onions, bring up that Dean sauteed them and added them to the meat, because Dean LOVES onions, and it didn’t occur to him to check if Cas has allergies before he started cooking, and they can’t be picked out, and oops the date ends with Dean rushing Cas to the ER, etc.  Otherwise, just say Dean had an hour left till Cas showed up for dinner, so he hurried to prepare all the taco fixings, and it took too little time so now he had to figure out how to occupy himself till the doorbell rang.

(btw, I would LOVE more first date ending up in the ER stories, everyone who reads this is free to adopt that idea lol)

2. Please don’t write an entire story in 1-2 sentence paragraphs.  This is rare, but it’s an almost instant nope out for me.  There’s this one story that I reeeeeally want to read, because it’s right up my alley, and other than the short paragraph issue, it’s well written so I keep trying but getting stuck.  I’m gonna have to copy it into a doc and edit the paragraphs and squish some stuff together to make it legible to my brain.  Like there’s a long stretch in the first chapter where every sentence is its own paragraph, and just.... why.  When you’re putting a paragraph break, there’s a mental pause happening in the reader’s mind.  And too many short paragraphs in a row makes it more like a really long poem rather than a typical story you’d read in a book.  A lot of advice says to not attack your readers with a wall of text (WALL OF TEXT CRITS YOU FOR OVER 9000!!!) and to break things up, but the opposite is also true.  Too many super short paragraphs is like Damage Over Time (THROW MORE DOTS, MORE DOTS!) and either one of those will defeat your reader’s interest.  Short paragraphs are a very useful tool, I use them myself for emphasis, but it can’t be your whole story.  Try to limit it to no more than 3 in a row.  If you’re going past that, take a minute to read those sentences and see if they’re related to each other.  Squish them into a single paragraph if they are.  Varying your paragraph length IS an art form.  Like writing music.  Paragraphs build a cadence, and staccato cannot sustain a whole song.  This can be mitigated by creating long compound sentences though, so keep in mind that the length of the sentence, which should vary, can make a paragraph feel longer, even if it is only 1 or 2 sentences.

(haha she gives advice on how to break up paragraphs while critting you with a wall of text!  good job, Carebear.)

3. The art of breaking up dialogue is just as delicate as the art of paragraph construction.  Too much back and forth without breaking it up with an action or an internal thought can make it confusing who is talking.  The rule of 3 comes in handy here too.  After 3 back and forths, put in something non-dialogue.  So it would go Character A says thing, Character B says Thing, Character A says thing, add some action/internal thoughts.  And just a he/she/they said tag isn’t enough.  IT IS BETTER THAN NOTHING, and depending on the cadence of the conversation it’s the right tool.  But adding some physical movement or a stray thought would be better.  That being said, don’t put too much action/thought between sections of dialogue.  If you put too much info in there, it can make your reader forget that there’s even a conversation going on, and they’ll get to the next piece of dialogue and be like wtf is this pertaining to again? and they’ll have to scroll back to the last line of dialogue to remember what was last said.  Remember, thoughts fly at the speed of light, so if you’re pausing the dialogue for some internal character thought, it’s happening in a matter of seconds, but your reader needs minutes to read and parse what’s going on.  Again, rule of 3, try not to do more than 3 paragraphs between dialogues.  And if you’re still not sure, or you feel like you need more so you keep going, read out loud from the last dialogue through the next dialogue and it’ll give you an idea of just how much time is physically passing for your readers, and you’ll start to feel the true size of things.

(WRITE ALL THAT STUFF DOWN THO.  If you need to get it out, then by all means, get it out.  It’s your first draft, and it’s important for YOU, even if a lot of it isn’t important for the reader.  Trim it in the edit. FOR THE LOVE OF THE GODS, TRIM IT IN THE EDIT.)

(And the rule of 3 is a guideline, not a rule.  It’s just a good measuring tool that you can use until you’re comfortable enough to eyeball things on your own.)

Anyway, those are the only things that come to mind while I’m calm and not in a frothing rage over writing errors that are not mine to correct.  I feel like a huge asshole for vague-bitching about other people’s writing, and I profusely apologize for anyone’s hurt feelings if they read this advice and realize this might apply to something they’ve done.  PLEASE KEEP WRITING, DON’T LET MY WHINGING DISCOURAGE YOU, I LOVE YOU.

[zestyquetzalcoatl]

Luck is petty.

Like everything else about his luck, Gladstone hates this and loves it in equal turns, often both at once.

It’s pettiness means he always knows that people’s minds are their own (or at least not influenced by him). Once someone has decided he is insufferable and deserving of only a kick in the pants, it cannot make them give him things or put up with him anyway (ignoring the odd encounters he’s had with a chicken in a bright pink cape.*1 He’s pretty certain something entirely different then luck was at play there, though he has no idea what), which is why he mostly gets given free stuff by strangers instead of people who have met him before. It can influence the physical world, and that alone.

He loves this about it because it means he can exert some level of control over it, want and hate and whittle down its options until it’s forced to give him what he actually wants. He loves it because he is terrified of what it could do if it wasn’t petty. How far it could go, how much it could effect, how badly it would twist the world around it, while he would have no control or hope of containing it.

He hates it because petty luck is petty. It cares about riches, wining bets, getting free things, and curtailing talent and hard work. It can’t (and doesn’t) win him friends or happiness or love. It protects his physical health but doesn’t give a damn about his mental, content to let him be abused and taken advantage of (especially if that gives it another chance to win a prize), so long as he isn’t hungry, isn’t homeless, and isn’t injured. (Liu Hai’s was not the first gilded cage he’d been trapped in, just one that was unusually hard to escape.)

Luck is petty but Gladstone is not.

Sometimes (when the chips are down and the stakes are high) this means that his luck has to play by Gladstone’s rules.

———————————————O0—0—0O————————————————

Gladstone had run into Fethry by complete chance earlier in the day, and he’d spent the last several hours cheerfully walking and chatting with his red-hatted cousin as they meandered their way across town. Gladstone’s luck had been in full effect as they walked, guiding their route via construction sites that had blocked roads, flying $20 bills and interesting butterflies that tempted them down back alleys and side streets, and a very memorable dumpster that gave Gladstone a bad jump scare by falling over and releasing about twenty cats into the general area. The path they’d taken had been dictated largely by whatever looked like the least hassle, and had eventually ended up with them down by the docks, getting lost amongst the warehouses and shipping containers of the many trading companies that had operations in Duckburg Harbor.

Gladstone didn’t mind being utterly lost, he never had. His luck meant they’d get where they ought to go without being late, so he was content to simply wander at random while he enjoyed his cousin’s enthusiastic rambling.

Popping out of a particularly out-of-the-way alley, he realized that he and Fethry had ended up at the main road, less then twenty yards from the beginning of the pier. What was more, he could see Donald’s car.

It was pulled just off of the asphalt and onto the concrete, and parked behind a pile of boxes large enough that it likely couldn’t be spotted from anywhere except the small alley they’d just exited. The 313 was old, and in even worse repair then normal, with one of its mirrors duct taped on, and a couple of its fender skirts boasting decently sized dents. Slumped in the driver’s seat was Donald, with blood on his beak.

For a moment Gladstone felt like he had been plunged underwater.

He had seen his unlucky cousin injured before, many times even. Donald, Della, and Scrooge were always finding a way to get themselves into life-or-death danger, and even when they weren’t trouble managed to find Donald anyway. He’d seen his cousin thrown through walls, struck by lightning, almost crushed by falling boulders, and passed out in all sorts of places weirder then his own oddly parked car. But for all that, he’s rarely, if ever, seen his cousin bleed, so he thinks it’s probably the blood that makes everything about his just scream wrong.

The underwater-feeling, the feeling of wrongness, is intense, blurring the edges of the world and muffling all sound. He can just barely hear himself shout through the veil of unreality that, for one long moment, seems to drown him.

“Donald?!”

Beside him Fethry stops talking, then the underwater-feeling shatters to make way for the electrocuting feeling of ice-cold terror, and the next moment he and Fethry are both sprinting for the car.

Donald wakes up when they reach the car, both of them somewhat crashing into it in their panic. The more important thing, is that there are bloody petals in Donald’s lap. Gladstone suddenly feels like there’s something caught in his own throat that he has to force words out past, because he knows what bloody petals mean, but no no No NO—

“Donald, Donald what, w-who—“

Any doubt is swept away when Donald goes to respond and starts choking instead, coughing up not just bloody petals but entire flower heads. Red, Blue, Green, Pink, Gold, and White, all different shapes and kinds. Gladstone feels like every emotion he has has been flicked on at once, a white-hot intensity that burns through him just waiting to explode outward. The world around him is in crystalline clarity, all his senses turned up to eleven and recording in overwhelming detail, and he’s feeling everything at once. He knows what hanahaki is but he doesn’t know his flowers, can’t decipher what’s before him. Can’t know and can’t guess and can’t let Donald die.

Donald finishes hacking up a morbid bouquet and starts trying to tell him and Fethry, voice garbled even worse then normal, about having several hours left and wanting to be next to the ocean. Fethry is listening to Donald. Gladstone is doing anything but.

He hasn’t been Cloverleaf in years, and it’s been just as long since he actively controlled his luck. Focusing in the draining way it takes to Curse or Bless is not something he does outside of the mask, instead just letting Gladstone Gander be blown wherever his luck wishes to take him.

But by god he does it now, pouring everything he can into Blessing Donald more intensely then he’s ever done before, wanting and pushing, making bets against himself with devastating consequences if Donald dies. Deciding, with no hesitation or room for chance, what he’ll do —do to himself— if this goes wrong. Gladstone will never be okay again if Donald dies, making his luck agree is just a matter of making sure it knows that he means physically too.

He stifles and kills the urge to Curse whoever hurt his cousin, because that won’t help Donald now. But eyes are burning red with roiling anger, fear and worry adding fuel to the fire, the temper he shares with Donald on the few occasions he’s well and truly ticked on full display. And he will not release his death grip on his cousin’s arm.

And Gladstone doesn’t know it, but Paperinik has seen Cloverleaf Curse and Bless before, and can very much recognize the light static electricity jumping between his cousin’s feathers and the look of vicious concentration on his cousin’s face, even if he wasn’t expecting it at all.

Several miles across town in McDuck Mansion, six people discover they abruptly need Donald for something all at once. The worry that begins to break out when they can’t find him anywhere bubbles over into full blown panic as one of them trips into a trashcan, and a bunch of bloody petals are flung out as it goes flying.

———————————————O0—0—0O————————————————

Well! That wasn’t how I was expecting to loose my day. @bamboozledeagle this is your fault, I woke up to your Hanahaki post sitting at the top of my Tumblr dash, and spent the whole rest of the day writing it on-and-off. Then when I went to post it the WiFi crashed :/ so I had to wait a day.

This is completely unedited, so sorry about any glaring mistakes. I probably change style several times and I think I even changed tense once on accident. Oops. Also sorry about the formatting, I wrote it on notepad and then just copy-pasted to here, and only bothered fixing the italics.

The Gladstone/Cloverleaf on display here is my own version that I started playing around with after reading this post by @adamarinayu: https://adamarinayu.tumblr.com/post/176467180262/hey-yall asking for a competent version of Cloverleaf, but haven’t actually written anything with prior to this.

Blessing and Cursing is just what he calls manipulating his luck to make good things or bad things happen to other people. It also has the added bonus of helping protect his identity by making Cloverleaf seem magical instead of lucky.

Oh and Bam, the chicken in a pink cape line is also your fault by the way: *1 https://bamboozledeagle.tumblr.com/post/617956657118511104/i-love-how-in-your-and-other-peoples-aus

Sorry if the links don’t work on mobile.

[thetaylorfiles]

To your anon asking about TTB promises. She promised no second wedding, no male pronouns or male love interests on Lover, a coming out, Karlie leaving in August, no Josh at holidays, no way they go to awards, absolutely would she not include him in her documentary because it woul be about coming out. The list is rather long. The truth is people left over stopped calling her out on always being wrong. And every month for the last 2 years dont worry, its almost over the girls are fine.

Wow. Great memory.

Let’s list all of TTBs lies, promises and predictions that never came true. For posterity.

TTB promised there would be:

[[MORE]]

1. No Joshlie wedding. At all. And no second Joshlie wedding. (Both happened!)

- in fact the plan, according to TTB was: to gently introduce Kaylor to the public.

- announce engagement > call off engagement > have Taylor be seen providing emotional support to a heartbroken Karlie > after a while, explain that spending time together amid this upset made them realize they were more than just friends!

Oops. Never happened.

2. No male pronouns on Lover (several songs with male pronouns!)

3. No male love interests on Lover (clearly a male interest in Lover. And no, London Boy isn’t satire. It’s tongue in cheek)

4. Karlie being “free” in August each and every year. (and many, many more times)

5. No Josh at holidays.

(Yet somehow they seem to be together for thanksgiving and NYE and several Jewish holidays every single year.)

6. Joe and Taylor not attending awards shows together (so far they’ve attended: Golden Globes, Cats premiere, and NME awards)

7. Joe not being included in the documentary (Taylor literally runs into his arms backstage)

8. The documentary would be about Taylor coming out

I remember (and edited to add other peoples recollections)

9. Taylor was supposed to come out after Rep tour was over.

10. Taylor was supposed to come out the day she announced her new single “ME!” In fact, the announcement was meant to be her coming out, but instead was her new single.

11. Joe would be gone before Rep Tour

12. Joe would be gone after Rep Tour.

13. Joe would be gone before Lover Promo

14. Joe would be gone after Lover release.

15. Karlie would be free from Josh literally too many times to count. She always says that the contract is up in August. Then she says Karlie re-ups.

16. Taylor was going to come out on the last day of Pride month but scrapped those plans and instead released her statement about Scooter and Scott. That the masters changed everything so she couldn’t come out.

Now, had she intended to come out, and changed her mind that very last day upon learning of the master sales, she would’ve had to:

- add 4 new songs about a male

- chang all pronouns on lover from “her” to “him”

- remanufacturing every copy (how many DNAs did that need)

- create and chang diary entries

- all this would’ve had to be done whiles Taylor spent the first week of July with her friends on vacation. And while Karlie was on a yacht with Scooter, posting several instagrams documenting it.

- Then she went straight into filming ‘Lover’ video with a man. All this in a matter of a week or two, while on vacation, right before Lover came out. (Thanks to the anon for help!)

17. She claimed Karlie never followed Joe, when in fact, she did after K’s Rep concert. A week later, she unfollowed him. Also her sisters and Josh unfollowed Taylor in that same time frame.

18. She claims that when a beard wears blue, a breakup will occur and Taylor will be free of her contract. That Taylor plans it this way. TTB has said the inevitable breakup is going to happen when Joe wears blue numerous times yet this has never come to fruition.

19. Any time there is an article about Joshlie or Joe and Taylor, ttb claims its ALWAYS “seeding” a breakup. Yet, the breakup never, ever comes. (And no one in entertainment uses the phrase “seeding”. That’s a pure conspiracy theorist term. Like “crisis actor”).

20. She once promised a nervous anon that Josh and Karlie would never actually marry. They’d only be faux engaged to make it all seem real.

21. Claimed that Karlie and Josh didn’t go to New Zealand together over the New Year. Said Josh went alone and Karlie only flew in one day to take all the pics with him- in multiple clothing changes- to get all the pics necessary for the “stunt”. Even though everyone outside of Kaylorland already believes they’re a married couple and the “stunt” got zero publicity.

22. TTB claimed many times no beard would ever attend an important event or red carpet with Taylor. Then Joe went to the Golden Globes with her, then the Cats premiere, and then the NME awards. Oops! Wrong each and every time.

23. When Joe and Taylor vacationed in the Turks and Caicos TTB claimed Joe was flown in for a quick photoshoot and flown right back out. Except the next day, he was still there and there were new pictures.

24. Claimed for MONTHS after the Joshlie wedding that it was a “photoshoot”, not a wedding. That it would soon show up in Vogue. Then it was Vogue Brazil. (The wedding was never in a magazine)

25. She also claimed it was all a giant ad for Dior. The photoshoot would be one big advertisement for Dior. (The wedding was never an ad anywhere for Dior)

26. After several Vogue magazines came and went after, TTB claimed that Josh was having the article and photoshoot put on hold so that they could release it at a time that Trump made a big gaffe and Josh would need good press. The idea being that if Trump messes up, this somehow reflects badly on Josh, though it never has.

27. TTB and Kaylors claim that the reason why Karlie and Taylor stopped hanging out in public was so as not to tarnish Taylor’s reputation by being associated with Trump. Yet, Kelle went backstage at Rep after Trump was elected.

Anyone who knows about magazines or has seen the documentary The September Issue knows that the magazine layout is planned months in advance and articles and photo shoots are put in in a timely manner. Someone like Josh would have no bearing on getting to hold it back. (The wedding never showed up in any magazine and Trump made gaffes constantly).

28. TTB also claimed that they were no longer being seen in public anymore so that the public would start to ask and wonder why they weren’t “friends” anymore. Which would “seed” a coming out story.

29. Ttb claims she’ll have definitive proof this Monday, 9/7/20/, in the form of “tea” she’s been dangling in front of her followers for months now, that will prove the existence of Kaylor.

And she posted a submission that proved absolutely nothing! Just a screenshot of Karlies insta story from May that shows the reflection of one open white umbrella and one closed white umbrella. Apparently Taylor has two white umbrella near her pool in Beverly Hills. Ttb believes this is definitive proof that Karlie and Taykor have been together in LA for months.

This was wholly underwhelming and easily disputable. Taylor’s jet has been in Utah, with Joe posting a few pics of him hiking there. Her jet has also been in RI. Then the jet went to England. While the jet doesn’t prove Taylor wasn’t in BH the whole time, it sure does make it much more likely than a reflection in glass of an umbrella.

30 TTB claims that josh posted an Instagram on 9/3 of a sunset to indicate the sun setting on his relationship with Karlie. A message sent to Kaylors. No divorce as of yet!

31. Going along with the above, TTB also claimed that she expects Joshlie to announce their divorce on 9/4/20 because it’s the slowest in the news cycle. A Friday afternoon before a holiday weekend. Yet, no divorce news and Trump calling fallen soldiers “lovers and suckers” is dominating the headlines.

32. Prior to the Kushner biography being released TTB predicted/promised that it would mention Josh’s homosexual proclivities in some way: the bearding or Mikey. And at the very least, it would paint him to be the giant criminal that she claims he is.

Instead it did nothing of the sort. It only talked about how strong his love for Karlie was. That despite his parents being unkind and unaccepting to her for several years, he stuck it out with her. It also addressed her conversion to Judaism.

33. Ttb likes to claim that Karlie never converted to Judaism. She says that because Karlie has never spoken the exact words “I converted” that it means she hasn’t. Despite the fact that many Jewish people have told her that when Karlie told Andy Cohen that she “joined the tribe” that, was, in fact, how Jewish people say they converted.

Karlie has also spoken at length in interviews and her own musings about her conversion. Ttb still refutes this and sometimes will post anons who write in questionable and anti Semitic references.

34. There was a period of time where TTB claimed that Josh needed Karlie as a beard in order to get an inheritance from an old aunt of his. This aunt stipulated in their will that he MUST be married to a woman in order to collect the money. Shockingly (to no one) TTB started claiming this right after josh and Karlie got married.

A few months later, the aunt and the inheritance disappeared never to be spoken of again. Which was absurd to begin with considering Josh is reportedly worth $800 million. Which could be off considerably, but even if it is? Even if he’s only worth $100 million? Yeah, he’s good. He doesn’t need an aunts inheritance.

35. These days (September of 2020) TTB is claiming that Karlie is staying with Josh in the contact for bearding willingly. This is a drastic change of narrative from years past when she claimed he was essentially blackmailing her to stay. For the Aunt inheritance, for not telling the world her and Taylor’s secrets, etc.

**** this hasn’t been updated in a few months. It’s now Dec. 1st. I’ll do my best to fill in a couple more below soon. There’s been a handful or two of lies that need to be recorded.****

36. People Mag announces that sources close to Karlie say she’s pregnant with Josh’s kid. Ttb refuses to believe it until Karlie herself confirms it, though in the past she has specifically stated that People is the one mag you can trust as publicists use it as a vehicle to get the truth out about their client.

36. Ttb stated emphatically and multiple times that IF Karlie is pregnant it CANNOT be a Kaylor baby because it would not tarnished by having a Kushner last name and being tied to that “organized crime” family. Nope. Taylor is in no way involved.

And now that Karlie has confirmed the pregnancy, what do uou know? Ttb conveniently changes her time, forgets all she’s said in the past and seems to be firmly on the “oh, it’s totally a Karlie/Tayklor baby. I thought so all along”.

Now, Karlie is there willingly. And when an anon asked whyC her answer was “it’s all part of the narrative.” As if that’s a sufficient answer.

37. TTB said Joe and Taylor’s career paths would never intertwine.

And now they’ve written 5 songs together. One on which he played the piano too.

There’s a lot more especially about Karlies pregnancy but I don’t have the time or energy to fill it in right now. Back soon to do it.

Anyone else remember anything specific? Let’s come up with a comprehensive list.

[writingithink]

Tangled Timelines Chapter 3 Rated: T Chapter Word Count: 5,010 Chapter Summary: The Doctor and Rose try to track down some ghosts. Notes: Hey look! It's an update!! Hopefully they'll be happening more regularly now. I'm semi doing NaNoWriMo, and by that I mean that I'm attempting to write 50,000 words this month spread across any project (including this one). I'm starting to find my groove with this fic, so *fingers crossed*

As always, many hugs and thanks for @hey-there-juliet , my lovely beta. && all mistakes are mine.

READ IT ON AO3 [copy/paste link]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26686090/chapters/67268401

<-- Ch2

Ch 4 -->

As soon as he entered his ship, the Doctor collapsed onto the jumpseat and stared blankly at the time rotor for a few moments. And then he glared at it.

“I somehow manage to happen upon the exact coordinates for the beginning of an invasion, and for some reason you’ve put me smack dab in the middle of it?!”

The answering hum was … frustrated.

He furrowed his brows, frowning. It would be exceedingly bad, incredibly bad, astonishingly bad bad bad if something else was influencing the TARDIS. The Doctor sprang to his feet and immediately sonicked open the grating, taking a moment to place a temporary barrier around his panic before he could worry Rose.

Back at the flat, she was having tea with her mother. She’d only just managed to get Jackie to stop complaining about his apparent need to ‘make everything about aliens’, and they were now talking about the wedding. Apparently she’d found a baker who said they’d make up cake samples that all somehow incorporated bananas. Best news he’d heard (well, technically) all day, and he couldn’t properly appreciate the sentiment when he desperately needed to check his ship and parse out exactly what he was going to do about these ‘ghosts’.

First things first, he needed to make sure that the TARDIS was physically fine. That she was healthy. And actually, it wasn’t so bad. There were some minor repairs he should take care of before they next left Earth, but nothing he couldn’t leave until after they’d saved the planet. The Doctor pulled himself out from under the console and bounced over to the navigational matrix, pulling a screen with him as he went.

His mouth dropped as he looked at the recording of their last flight path. A time track seemed to just- just pop into existence, pushing them months away. His ship had immediately landed due to the unexpected error. It literally looked like a glitch in the Vortex - but there were no such thing as glitches in the Time Vortex. A whole dimension doesn’t glitch - not without some outside force acting on it.

And any outside force meddling with time was even more dangerous than whatever these ‘ghosts’ were.

One bloody thing at a time, though.

The Doctor pushed himself away from the console and began pacing.

Ghosts ghosts ghosts ghosts ghosts.

Not really ghosts. Getting stronger from the psychic energy of the entire human race. Incredibly unpleasant when one walks through you - really do feel dead. Worse than dead. Likely nothing good, and all over the world.

But they appear in shifts. There’s shifts.

So someone had to be in charge of that. Probably multiple someones. But still, there would be a central location connected to them, giving them whatever help they need to press themselves onto the Earth from wherever they really are. To do that, all around the world, they would have to have an incredibly strong signal.

An incredibly strong, traceable signal.

“Alright then!”

Headfirst into danger was just what it was going to have to be.

The Doctor sonicked open a different panel and began rummaging around for the equipment he’d need. It wasn’t long before he heard the TARDIS' door open.

“According to the paper,” his wife announced, “they’ve elected a ghost as MP for Leeds. Now tell me about this plan you’re tryin’ so hard to keep secret.”

He popped out of the grating with a backpack full of equipment.

“Who you gonna call?” he joked.

“Ghostbusters!” Rose laughed, more amused by the voice he was using than his shockingly similar looking technology.

“I ain’t afraid of no ghosts,” the Doctor finished with a little jig before dashing out of the TARDIS.

“My mum’s on her way down,” she informed him as he looked around the playground for the best area to set up the cones. Actually, should do nicely right where they were.

“Oh?” He turned on his heel and went back into their ship, pleased that she’d seen fit to set out the rest of the equipment they would need. “Let’s get these outside.”

“Doctor,” his bondmate huffed, even as she took a cone. I don’t think we should tell her yet. About the lifespan thing. Not until after we’ve gotten rid of the ghosts. Like, way after. Next trip back.

That’s fine, he agreed as he sat down his roll of wire and cone and began plugging everything in.

“We’ll still have to stay for awhile, though. Because we said we would.”

The Doctor paused what he was doing, dramatically raising his eyes skyward. It was quite a nice day, really. You’d think, with London having nice weather for once, that he’d be able to enjoy it. He opened his mouth, planning to vocalize his many complaints, but as soon as he turned back towards Rose, he saw Jackie walking up.

After the ghosts, yes. Sometime during this trip, though, please . 

He wasn’t ashamed to beg. Well … a little ashamed.

“Why’d you park all the way over here?” Jackie asked as he began plugging the wires into the cone Rose had placed.

“Got tired of the alley. Bit dingy,” he quipped. It was a lie, but better than telling his mother-in-law that not only had the flight gone wrong time-wise, but also slightly by location.

His wife shot him a worried look as she caught the thought.

Later, he promised, rushing back into the TARDIS for the final cone. He would worry about all of that later - they had important things to do.

“When’s the next shift?” he asked as he sat the cone down.

“Quarter to,” Jackie answered, “but don’t go causing trouble. What’s that lot do?”

“Triangulates their point of origin.”

“I don’t suppose it’s the Gelth?” Rose asked, visions of their spectral forms playing across their bond for a moment.

“Nah,” the Doctor responded, and she quickly shrugged off the idea. “They were just coming through one little rift. This lot are transposing themselves over the whole planet. Like tracing paper.”

With the final cone plugged in, he ran over to make sure they were all in the proper position.

“You’re always doing this,” Jackie complained. “Reducing it to science. Why can’t it be real? Just think of it, though. All the people we’ve lost. Our families coming back home. Don’t you think it’s beautiful?”

He paused to give his mother-in-law an honest answer. 

“I think it’s horrific.” 

And then the Doctor bounced back into motion, unrolling the cable that would connect the triangulation devices to the TARDIS console. They were on a time crunch, after all. “Rose, give us a hand, love.”

His bondmate sighed before following him into the ship.

She’s so upset.

The Doctor remained silent, aware that the thought wasn’t really meant for him and even more aware that there wasn’t anything he could say that would help. He plugged in the cable and turned to Rose, aware that her mother had followed them inside. This is how they could help.

“As soon as the cones activate,” he explained quickly, pointing to the monitor, “if that line goes red, press that button there. If it doesn’t stop,” he continued, reaching into his jacket to pull out the sonic screwdriver, “setting 15-B. Hold it against the port, eight seconds and stop.”

“15-B, eight seconds,” she confirmed.

“If it goes into the blue, activate the deep scan on the left.”

“Uhm … oh!” His wife leaned over the console, which he found much more provocative than the situation really called for. “This button there?”

“Hmm close.”

And he’d really, sincerely intended to send her a mental image of the correct button, but some wires must have gotten crossed there. Instead what he sent was a memory of their return to the TARDIS right after the Rhibelini festival. Eh. Oops?

“That one?” Rose smirked, pointing to another button that was definitely not close, while sending some very, uhm, creative suggestions that, unfortunately, weren’t actually feasible.

“Eehh, now you’ve just killed us,” the Doctor told her with a theatrical grimace.

With the button, or- ?

They both laughed, but only for a moment.

“Er, that one.” She confidently pointed to the correct button, telepathically informing him that she knew the whole time.

“Yeah!” he smiled before turning to Jackie. “Now, what’ve we got? Two minutes to go?”

Jackie looked down at her watch, and the Doctor was glad that she didn’t realize that he was just trying to make her feel needed. That he was a Time Lord and didn’t need her help to check the time. Because his wife had to be right - there’s no way her mum actually enjoys the act of doing laundry. She enjoys being a mum.

You like her, Rose teased over the bond.

Shush.

He gave her a peck on the cheek before exiting the ship to do the final prep work on the triangulation cones. It was go time. The Doctor raced around, calibrating each one.

“What’s the line doing?” he shouted through the door.

“It’s alright,” came his wife’s answering shout, though she really didn’t need to with his superior hearing. She could whisper and he’d be able to hear her from this short of a distance. “It’s holding!”

“You even look like him,” Jackie said to Rose, and he could hear her just fine. Not that he understood what that was supposed to mean.

“How do you mean? I suppose I do, yeah,” his wife responded, sounding pleased, though he still didn’t know what it meant. Rose didn’t look at all like him. What a strange thing to say. He tried to refocus on the triangulation equipment.

“You’ve changed so much,” Jackie sighed. “All grown up and married to an alien, living in a spaceship.”

The Doctor almost said something to Rose about her mother acknowledging that they were, in fact, already married, but then caught himself. If she didn’t already know that he was eavesdropping, no need to make it obvious. Not that it would matter either way. He wasn’t going to stuff cotton in his ears just because the humans in his life couldn’t be bothered to remember all of his biological differences.

“For the better,” his wife replied with confidence. “We have an amazing life, and we’re in love.”

“I suppose. It’s just barmy. Seeing you two like this in this box of his. Makes it hard to pretend everything’s even a little normal.”

He wondered what exactly Jackie imagined their life was like when they weren’t around. Things had actually gotten shockingly domestic lately, though it would still probably be too alien for his mother-in-law.

“Mum, I used to work in a shop.”

“I’ve worked in shops. What’s wrong with that?”

“No, I didn’t mean that,” Rose sighed.

Once again the Doctor made himself refocus on the task at hand, all the while hoping that they weren’t about to have a row.

“I know what you meant. What happens when I’m gone?”

“Don’t talk like that,” Rose ordered, distress flooding their connection, making it nearly impossible for him to pay attention to the cones.

How exactly was he supposed to save the Earth with these working conditions?

There was a smug voice in his head, with a distinct Northern accent, very pleased to point out how they were right about avoiding domestics.

“No, but really. When I’m dead and buried, you won’t have any reason to come back home. What happens then?” Jackie asked her.

“I don’t know,” Rose mumbled, as she tried and failed to imagine their future life without her mother in it.

The Doctor frowned, realizing that he couldn’t quite picture it either.

“Do you think you’ll ever settle down?” her mother continued.

Their connection was now awash with all sorts of negative emotions, and he could tell that his bondmate was near tears, which was completely unacceptable. He turned away from the cones, ready to march back on board before stopping himself.

“The Doctor never will, so I can’t,” Rose told her. “Wouldn’t want to. We’ll just keep traveling.”

“And you’ll keep on changing. And in forty years time, fifty, there’ll be this woman, this strange woman, walking through the marketplace on some planet a billion miles from Earth. But she’s not Rose Tyler. Not anymore. She’s not even human.”

Their bond somehow managed to pulse mauve.

It’s going to be okay, love, he tried to comfort her, fighting to send soothing, positive thoughts over their connection just as he finished up the calibrations. A distraction, that’s what she needed! It was certainly what he needed.

“Here we go!” he shouted.

“The scanner’s working!” Rose called out. “It says Delta-One-Six!”

“Come on then, you beauty!” the Doctor laughed, firmly resolved on drowning out all of the pain present in their shared mental space with adrenaline fueled glee. After all, he had always wanted to use these cones - they were state of the art!

He watched with wide eyes as the cones connected, immediately trapping one of the so-called ‘ghosts’ within their quasi-electric field. And then he reached into his pocket, carefully blocking their bond as he pulled out and put on a pair of 3D glasses - this was the part of his speculations that he really would rather not worry his bondmate with. At least, not yet. Not until he absolutely had to.

The ghost … thing he’d just trapped was absolutely riddled with Void particles. Completely covered, blurry head to blurry toe. Blimey.

The Doctor knelt down, adjusting the controls in order to get a more accurate read. If he was lucky, he would be able to figure out which parallel world these creatures were trying to come from. Likely a parallel Earth, but which one?

It began writhing, though nothing about the triangulation device should cause a living thing pain.

“Don’t like that much, do you?” he couldn’t help commenting. “Who are you? Where are you coming from? Woah!” He jumped back as the ‘ghost’ attempted to break out of the containment field. “That’s more like it! Not so friendly now, are you?”

He looked on as the creature faded away and the cones deactivated. While some more time would have been helpful, the Doctor had enough information to get started. After quickly picking up all of the cones, he ran back inside. Once he’d dumped them all out of the way, he raced up to the console, shrugging out of his coat and tossing it onto the railing.

“I said so!” he exclaimed. “Those ghosts have been forced into existence from one specific point, and I can track down the source. Allons-y!”

With that, he slammed the dematerialization lever, the coordinates having been inputted by the triangulation device. So handy! Finally got to use it.

The TARDIS shook violently.

Well, maybe he could make some improvements ... if he ever got the chance to use it again. The Doctor sprung to his feet and stabilized the flight.

Things seemed abnormally silent in the console room and over their bond. He was uncertain as to why, but still gave over to his natural inclination to fill the silence.

“I like that,” he told his wife as he moved around the console. “Allons-y. I should say allons-y more often. Allons-y. Watch out, Rose Tyler. Allons-y. And then, it would be really brilliant if I met someone called Alonso, because then I could say, ‘Allons-y Alonso’ every time.” He finally reached Rose and wrapped his arms around her before pausing. “You’re staring at me.”

“My mum’s still on board,” she whispered, squeezing his arms.

The Doctor looked up to see Jackie Tyler sitting on one of the platforms.

It was terrifying.

“If we end up on Mars, I’m going to kill you.”

Absolutely, bone-chillingly terrifying.

Stop being a drama queen, his bondmate chastised.

Oh, the domestics of it all! Worse than living in a house! Traveling with his mother-in-law?!

You’ll be fine, it’s hardly traveling . We’re in the same city, in the same time, Rose reassured him, rolling her eyes before giving him a proper hug.

What was he supposed to do now, though?! Bring Jackie with them? Leave her in the TARDIS? It would likely be dangerous wherever they ended up, invasion and all. The alternative was having her stay in their home to snoop around and get up to who knows what. There was no winning!

“Welcome aboard, Jackie!” he said with a wave, his smile showing a bit too much teeth.

“Where exactly are we going, anyway?” her mother asked.

“Come down, mum. You can watch the landing on the view screen with us,” Rose encouraged, releasing him so that she could meet her halfway. “We’re gonna land at wherever they’re controlling the ghosts. Are you fine to stay on board? There’s a pool, you could have a nice swim. Or watch telly in the media room. We’ll be back before you know it.”

“I’m just supposed to hang out in this weird ship of his while you’re off trying to get yourselves killed?”

“We do stuff like this all the time,” the Doctor piped in, trying to reassure her. “Only this time you’re on the TARDIS instead of at home in your flat. Which, really, is much better, when you think about it. Best ship in the Universe.”

Jackie still didn’t look thrilled as they all gathered around the view screen. She looked even less thrilled as they watched the TARDIS land in a hanger before immediately being surrounded by armed gunmen.

“Oh, well, there goes the advantage of surprise,” he sighed. “Still, cuts to the chase.”

Now he was going to have to deal with soldiers. Really, every time he thought that the day couldn’t possibly get worse. The Doctor turned to his mother-in-law as he made his way around the console.

“Jackie, stay inside. Doors shut. They can’t get in.”

“I’m not staying here! Take me home!”

“It’s too late for that,” he told her. “Shouldn’t have come aboard if you didn’t fancy a trip.”

“I was kidnapped!”

He rolled his eyes, deciding not to dignify that with a response as he took Rose’s hand. She pulled him to a stop before they reached the door.

“Doctor, they’ve got guns.”

The Doctor mentally reminded his wife that they’d been surrounded by much, much worse. Daleks couldn’t help but come to mind. 21 st century Earth guns were really the least of his concerns at the moment. Jackie Tyler accidentally breaking his precious timeship was more of a worry than guns. Whatever these creatures had planned, definitely more of a worry than guns.

“And we haven’t,” he delightfully informed her. “Which makes us the better people, don’t you think? They can shoot us dead, but the moral high ground is ours.”

With that, he tugged her out of the TARDIS behind him and closed the door as casually as he could manage.

Honestly, with all of the emergency programs he had installed, why couldn’t he have made one to deal with this scenario? A program that would immediately take Jackie home and then bring the TARDIS right back - now that would be nifty.

 They barely had a chance to look around before the soldiers surrounding them cocked their guns. He and Rose quickly raised their hands to prove they were unarmed.

Y’know what this reminds me of?, his wife casually asked across their connection.

What?

Utah, 2012.

The Doctor’s eyes swept the area as much as he could without moving his head. He could see her point.

Do you think they’d fire if I knocked on wood right now?, he asked her, just as a blonde woman in a suit rushed into the hanger.

“Oh! Oh, how marvelous!” she exclaimed, clapping.

I think she may’ve gone ‘round the bend, Rose laughed in his head as she fought back a confused smile.

The soldiers slowly began to lower their weapons as they joined in on the … clapping? Really, why were they clapping?

“Oh, very good. Superb. Happy day!”

Really, the Doctor felt inclined to agree with his bondmate on this one. Still, now that guns weren’t being pointed at them he was inclined to just go with it.

“Uhm, thanks. Nice to meet you,” he greeted. “I’m the Doctor, and this is my-”

Probably not the time to introduce me as your wife.

“- this is Rose.”

“Hello,” his wife waved with a wide grin that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Oh, I should say! Hurray!”

And there they went again with the clapping. Honestly, what the bloody hell was going on?

Think you’ve got more fans, Rose teased.

“You- you’ve heard of me, then?”

Really, where had his ship landed them?

“Well of course we have,” the overly enthusiastic woman replied. “And I have to say, if it wasn’t for you, none of us would be here! The Doctor and the TARDIS.” 

Everyone started clapping yet again. He was starting to get used to it, actually. It was kind of nice.

“And his companion, of course,” the woman continued.

Okay, not as nice. Then again, Rose was the one who didn’t want him to say she was his wife. Which was probably the smart thing to do, mid-invasion, but still. Just … didn’t feel right. As it was, she had had to cover her mouth with her hands in order to keep herself from laughing - out loud. Their bond was awash with her amusement. The Doctor found himself fighting the urge himself as he tried to politely make them stop.

“And- and- and you are?” he asked as the noise died down.

“Oh, plenty of time for that,” she evaded. Huh.

I think she thinks she’s the boss of you, his bondmate informed him.

She also thinks that I’m the boss ofyou, the Doctor couldn’t help but point out.

Bless.

“Aaaaaaanyway lead on, allons-y. Will there be nibbles?”

He fought the urge to take Rose’s hand as they followed the woman away from the TARDIS, surrounded by armed guards, stuffing his fists into his pockets. A moment later she tugged on his sleeve. The Doctor glanced over, taking out his hand when she rolled her eyes. Their fingers slotted together, perfect fit, as always.

We’ve been holding hands since the moment we met, she mentally chastised. Memories played across their bond.

She certainly wasn’t wrong.

Sorry, he told her, squeezing her hand. Not sure how to pretend to not be married, I guess.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Rose smirk.

Well, I took off my ring. Think all we’ve got to do now is not say it outright.

Before he could properly respond, something on the tip of his tongue (or whatever the telepathic equivalent of that idiom might be) about how he could do a much better job than that, the mystery woman started talking.

“It was only a matter of time until you found us, and at last you’ve made it,” she said. “I’d like to welcome you, Doctor. Welcome to Torchwood.”

With that, she flung open the doors and they entered a massive warehouse. A massive warehouse that was full of alien technology. And since this definitely wasn’t UNIT, this was very, very not good.

Blimey , he told his wife, you’re right. This really is frighteningly similar to that bunker in Utah.

Gonna nip over to that crate and knock on wood?, Rose asked, only partially teasing.

He really was considering it, actually, but … (he peeked behind him at the armed soldiers following uncomfortably close) better not. Instead he focused on the spacecraft in front of them.

“That’s a Jathar Sunglider,” he realized.

“Came down to Earth off the Shetland Islands ten years ago,” the woman explained.

“What, did it crash?”

“No, we shot it down,” she stated. “It violated our airspace. Then we stripped it bare.” 

Oh, this was really not good. The Doctor tried to sense the timelines, but they were all still so jumbled and wrong that he couldn’t make out the consequences of it, this technology that Earth really shouldn’t have right now. Not yet.

“The weapon that destroyed the Sycorax on Christmas day?” the woman continued with pride, “That was us. Now, if you’d like to come with me.”

That’s what Harriet said, Rose realized, replaying the memory over the bond, Torchwood. I didn’t even think about it, though.

No, me either, he agreed as they were led further into the warehouse. Why hadn’t he noticed anything off before? He should have felt it. On Christmas, maybe not - he’d just regenerated. But apparently this organization has been active for at least a decade, if not longer.

“The Torchwood Institute has a motto - ‘If it’s alien, it’s ours’,” their ‘captor’ slash ‘tour guide’ explained. “Anything that comes from the sky, we strip it down and we use it for the good of the British Empire.”

“Excuse me, the what?” Rose interrupted.

“The British Empire,” the woman repeated, turning around and looking his bondmate up and down, sizing her up.

“There hasn’t been a British Empire in ages,” Rose informed her, and she wasn’t wrong.

“We’ll see,” their hostess replied, a little too condescending for his liking. “Ah, excuse me,” she continued as a soldier handed her a particle gun?! “Now if you wouldn’t mind. Do you recognize this, Doctor?”

“That’s a particle gun.”

Now that he was here, now that this had his full attention, the Doctor could feel the strain on the timelines. This whole building was a threat to the entire causal nexus. His wife held his hand tighter when he showed her just a smidge of it over their connection.

“Good, isn’t it?” the woman smiled, unaware of the impending disaster that he wasn’t yet sure how to fix. “Took us eight years to get it to work.”

“It’s the 21st century,” he calmly tried to explain. “You can’t have particle guns.”

“We must defend our border against the alien,” she replied, as if that somehow gave them a free pass.

The Doctor didn’t know what to say to that, which apparently was fine, as their guide wasn’t really paying attention anyway as she handed back the gun.

“Thank you, Sebastian, isn’t it?”

I think it’s best if we just, you know, let her talk, he told Rose, studiously not looking directly at her - and really, there was a lot to take in, the warehouse was packed with advanced tech. Much too advanced.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Think she’ll give us an evil monologue?

Well, I don’t think she’s evil, he admitted. I think she’s … some sort of, I don’t know, business woman? I think she truly believes that what they’re doing here is good . Which makes them even more dangerous.

It would also make stopping them even more difficult.

“Thank you, Sebastian.”

He refocused as she turned back to them.

“I think it’s very important to know everyone by name,” she said. “Torchwood is a very modern organization. People skills. That’s what it’s all about these days. I’m a people person.”

Well that’s … nice?, Rose commented across the bond as she gave the woman a very forced grin.

“Have you got anyone called Alonso?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“No, I don’t think so. Is that important?”

Eh, oh well. It was kind of nice, though, having her asking a question for once.

“No, I suppose not,” the Doctor replied, just as he noticed a crate of Magnaclamps. He’d always wanted some, hadn’t gotten around to it, though. “What was your name?”

“Yvonne,” she told them (finally). “Yvonne Hartman.”

He let go of his wife’s hand, giving into the urge to inspect a clamp.

“Ah, yes,” Yvonne said with a smile. “Now, we’re very fond of these. The Magnaclamp. Found in a spaceship buried at the base of Mount Snowdon. Attach this to an object and it cancels the mass,” she explained, as if he didn’t already know. “I could use it to lift two tonnes of weight with a single hand. That’s an imperial ton, by the way. Torchwood refuses to go metric.”

Of course they do, Rose scoffed over the bond. British Empire, I mean really.

“Well, that’s handy,” is what she said aloud as he tossed the clamp back into the crate, wandering away to try to get a better idea of all of the other alien technology they’d managed to scavenge, commandeer or steal. His wife wandered in the opposite direction, giving him a second set of eyes even if she didn’t know what everything was. It really was a devastating amount, and the Doctor had to assume that this wasn’t all of it.

Really, it was about time they got back on track.

“So, what about the ghosts?” he asked.

“Ah, yes, the ghosts. They’re, er, what you might call a side effect,” Yvonne admitted.

“Of what?”

“All in good time, Doctor. There is an itinerary, trust me.”

Ugh, of all the things to add to this no-good-very-bad-day, he was stuck on a tour. With an itinerary.

It was his personal hell, really.

And to make it even worse, there went the TARDIS on the back of a lorry.

“An itinerary?” Rose scoffed. “And what are you lot doing with the TARDIS?!” My mum’s in there!

Oh, seriously?! He’d just managed to forget that they’d left Jackie Tyler unsupervised on the ship. Really, truly, worst day ever.

Seriously? Could you just grow up and get some perspective?, his wife snarled over their connection.

“If it’s alien, it’s ours,” Yvonne replied confidently.

“You’ll never get inside it,” he told her with just as much confidence, if not more.

“Hmm, et cetera.”

Once she turned away, they both glanced back at their ship to see Rose’s mum peek out through the doors - which he distinctly remembered telling her to keep shut.

Really, why did no one ever listen? He didn’t understand it.

With a sigh, and all of his unflattering thoughts about his mother-in-law safely behind a barrier, the Doctor turned away to continue their ‘tour’. At least the ghosts were on the itinerary. So this day had to turn ‘round at some point … right?

[therainroguefanfiction]

⚘ Karasuno Alumni (Daichi Sawamura)

Genre: Slice of Life, AU, Fluff, Friendship

Word Count: 3,132

Pairing: Reader x Daichi

World: Haikyuu

Prompt(s): A bought the last piece of [item] that B was about to get. / “I have nothing to lose.” / Tattoo Artist AU

Author’s Note: This was written for the weekly-prompt (08/19/20) over on @hqbookclub​ ‘s discord server – you should check it out if you haven’t It should be noted that I do not have tattoos and I know nothing about tattooing. I asked a couple different people and watched a couple videos, but it’s hard to understand if you haven’t experienced it yourself so I kinda just wrote what I imagine would take place and how it would feel. So yeah.

━━━━━━༻⚘༺━━━━━━

You didn’t get cravings very often, but when you did, they drove you absolutely batty until you got the object that you suddenly desired so badly. This was especially annoying at midnight when all you wanted to do was sleep but your brain wouldn’t stop craving for some strawberry flake pocky which, not so conveniently, was sold only at the quick mart about twenty minutes away from your house.

With a groan, you forced yourself out of bed, throwing on whatever clothes you could find quickly as you grumbled under your breath about how much you hated your brain and its ability to act like a damn toddler. And nearly thirty minutes later, you found yourself approaching the quick mart, still grumbling under your breath, though, at this point, it was more noises than words.

The glass doors slid open, a burst of cold air hitting the top of your head and causing a shiver to go down your spine. The cashier, a young girl that should probably be in bed and not working at one in the morning, smiled brightly upon your entrance.

“Welcome!”

You nodded at her before heading toward the back of the store where your precious pocky was located. The pocky was lined up at the end of the aisle, appearing in your line of sight as soon as you turned the corner, but the lack of flavors was startling. Normally, the shelf would be packed with the treats, but they had clearly become much more popular than normal. The shelves were nearly empty, offering only a few boxes in varying flavors. Your eyes scanned what was left, praying to whatever deity you could think of that they had the flavor you so desired.

Just as your eyes landed on the strawberry flake pocky, a large hand shot out, fingers curling around the very last box before pulling it from the shelf. Time seemed to move in slow motion as your eyes trained on the box like a hawk, watching as it was placed into the plastic basket being held by the perpetrator.

The man in question was pretty tall, standing probably around five-foot-nine, and his body was well defined with muscles. You could just barely make out the tattoo of a crow in mid-flight peeking out from the collar of his sweater. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think he was attractive with his messy raven hair and dark brown eyes, but the only thing you could focus on was the fact that he had just taken the last feckin’ box of strawberry flake pocky.

He finally noticed your intense stare, turning his dark eyes to meet yours. “It’s not polite to stare, you know,” he teased, the corner of his lips twitching up.

You scowled at him. “It’s also not polite to steal someone’s pocky!”

His brow quirked at that, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I didn’t steal anything. It was on the shelf, free for anyone to take. Maybe you should have been faster.”

In your tired, annoyed state, you didn’t recognize the teasing tone he was using and took it as a challenge. When he tried to step past you, your hand shot up, palm flat against his chest to push him backward. You resolve faltered for just a moment when you felt his toned chest tensing beneath your hand, but you quickly shook the thoughts from your head. “Give me back my pocky, you jerk!”

His eyes darkened, smile turning to a scowl as he grabbed your wrist to remove your hand from his chest. You could feel how strong he was from the amount of restraint he was showing. If he wanted to, he could easily hurt you, but his grip was soft, just enough to hold you back. “Maybe if you asked nicely I would have considered it, but since you’re being so rude, I’m gonna say no. Have a good night.” He released his grip on your wrist and headed for the front of the store.

Your eyes widened a bit at his words and you realized that you were being a complete jerk. Sure, you could use the lack of sleep and your shitty day as an excuse, but it was just that – an excuse. Shaking your head, you bolted toward the front of the store, intent on apologizing to the man, but he was already gone. You could only stand there feeling like a shitty person for being so rude to a man you had never even met before.

━━━━━━༻⚘༺━━━━━━

“Y/N!” Tsuko, your childhood best friend, burst into your dorm room without knocking and, since you were in the middle of erasing a failed equation, you ended up jumping and tearing the page.

You groaned, slamming your face onto the desk. Math was bad enough, but now you had to recopy everything because of the torn page and that did not sound like a good time for you. “How many times do I have to tell you to knock, woman?”

“Sorry~” She giggled, not sounding the least bit sorry. “I have the best news!”

You hummed as you tore the page from the notebook, beginning to re-copy the notes on a fresh, clean one. You were not really interested in whatever gossip she had to offer this time because this was a regular occurrence with her and it was mostly about other student’s relationships.

“Okay, so,” she plopped down on the side of your bed. “I met a guy in class today that knows Anne, you know, the exchange student from the states, who is good friends with Ako, that really cute football scholar in his third year, who heard from Carl, the half-Japanese kid that’s weirdly obsessed with tomatoes, who is best friends with Nia, that girl that was featured in Art Monthly in January, who happens to know -”

You slammed your head back on the desk, the notes completely forgotten as her word vomit swirled in your ears. First off, you didn’t know any of those people and you really didn’t care about them or what incredible thing they had passed along to a million different people. It was like one of those chain games you played as a kid – one person says something before passing it on to another and, by the time it got to the end of the line, it was something completely different from what it once was. “Tsuko, please spare me any further pain and just get to the point.”

She rolled her brown eyes, “You’re so dramatic, Y/N. Anywho, let’s get tattoos!”

“Heh?”

“Nia knows a guy that does tattoos at a discounted price for Karasuno alumni!” She clapped her hands excitedly. “I set us up with an appointment tomorrow afternoon!”

“You -” your eye twitched in annoyance as you looked at her, but your gaze softened when you saw how excited she was. She had always been super into tattoos and had dreamed of getting one since she was thirteen-years-old and her mom married a guy that was covered in them. You were happy she was finally getting one, but why did you have to get one, as well? Sure, you thought tattoos were absolutely gorgeous and you could definitely appreciate an attractive man with them, but you had never actually considered getting one yourself. “I don’t know… What would I even get? Aren’t tattoos supposed to have meaning behind them? It’s not really something you just decide on the fly, you know?”

“That’s true,” she agreed, tapping her chin. “But you really loved your time at Karasuno, right? You said it was the best time of your life! So why not commemorate that with a tattoo?”

You frowned. “Getting the name of a high school tattooed on my body sounds super tacky.”

“Not the name!” She clicked her tongue in annoyance before pulling out her phone. After a few taps, she stood up to thrust the device in your face, showing off various drawings and designs of crows. “You can get the school’s mascot – a crow!”

You hummed as you took her phone, scrolling through the various images she had found on google with a simple search. Some of them did look pretty cool and you had loved your time at Karasuno. Sometimes you even found yourself wishing that you were back in high school when things were so much simpler and easier. The more you thought about the idea, the more you liked it.

“So~, what do you say?” Tsuko clapped her hands together, giving you the best puppy dog eyes she could manage.

“Well,” you answered after a moment’s pause. “I guess I have nothing to lose. Sure, let’s do it.”

“Yes!” She threw her arms around your neck, squeezing you against her chest. “You’re the bestest friend in the world, Y/N!”

You slapped her arms frantically, “Then let me breathe!”

“Oh, oops.” With a giggle, she released you, allowing you to take in a large gulp of air.

━━━━━━༻⚘༺━━━━━━

Tsuko parked the car in front of the small tattoo shop nestled between a used bookstore and a fast-food chicken place. This did little to boost your confidence and you grabbed her arm before she could leave the car.

“Are you sure this place is legit? Did you research it? Look up reviews? What’s the -”

“Y/N!” She rolled her eyes. “This place comes highly recommended. Don’t tell me you’re going to chicken out at the last moment.”

“I’m not, I just…”

“Come on, we’re gonna be late for our appointment!”

With a sigh, you climbed out of her car and followed her to the door, glancing up at the bell above the door when it chimed loudly. On either side of the door were metal chairs lined against the class walls. Directly across from the door was an L-shaped desk with a computer on the right and various drawings scattered across its surface. A wall hid the tattooing area, offering a small opening on the left to pass through.

Tsuko stepped up to the counter while you hung back a bit, staying near the door. A moment passed before a tall man with a shaved head appeared in the doorway, covered in head to toe in various tattoo styles, piercings in both ears and on the left side of his bottom lip. He honestly looked terrifying.

His small eyes fell on Tsuko and his face brightened, a streak of red crawling across his face as he practically skipped over to the counter. “Hey, babe! You lookin’ to get a tattoo?”

“We are!” Tsuko chirped, clearly interested in this man even though she had only just met him. “We have an appointment, actually.”

“I gotchu,” he winked, stepping behind the counter to check the computer. “Ah, you two the Karasuno alumni?”

“Yep!”

“Perfect! Come on back and we’ll get to work!”

Tsuko didn’t hesitate to follow him and you sighed, trailing behind as you chewed on your bottom lip. Honestly, you were feeling kind of scared, but you didn’t want your best friend to think bad of you for chickening out, as she called it. How bad could it be, really? You weren’t afraid of needles and your pain tolerance was pretty high, so you were confident that you could make it through. Plus, you’d have a pretty bomb tattoo to show for it.

‘Hopefully,’ you thought as your eyes scanned the framed drawings lining the backroom. ‘These drawings look amazing, but there’s no way to prove that they did these.’

The man led the two of you to one of the plush chairs, motioning with his arms as his eyes stayed trained on your friend. “Have a seat, princess, and I’ll be right with you!”

She giggled in response, falling into the chair with a flushed face.

“As for you,” his eyes fell on you and you swallowed at how darker they got. “Follow me!”

You glanced at your friend, but her eyes were trained on the man’s back, offering you no support as you followed him a few chairs down on the opposite side of the room.

“Have a seat,” he grinned at you before turning toward the back of the room where a lone door sat, cupping his mouth. “Yo, Daichi! You got a customer!”

“Coming!”

You pulled out the folded piece of paper in your pocket that had several printed illustrations of crows in various poses. You had printed it out last night to try and help out the tattooer rather just saying, ‘I want a crow.’

“Hello, my name is Daichi and I’ll be -”

Your eyes met dark ones that widened in time with your own. Standing before you in a tight, black muscle shirt was the man that had taken your pocky the other night. Without any sleeves, you could see the dragon tattoo curling around his left arm, a light pink lotus flower clutched between its claws. On his right bicep was a crow sitting atop a volleyball and, of course, the crow in mid-flight could be seen more clearly on his neck.

Daichi cleared his throat, putting on an obviously forced smile. “I’ll be your tattooist today. What are you looking to get?”

“O-Oh, umm…” You handed him the paper with a shaking hand, unable to look him in the eye. Your face was burning with embarrassment and you were torn on whether or not you should mention what happened that night. You really wanted to apologize, but you weren’t entirely sure how, especially when one wrong word could land you in a world of hurt.

He took the paper, careful not to touch your hand with his as he glanced over the printed designs. “You want a crow?”

“Y-Yeah,” you cleared your throat, shifting in your seat. “I really enjoyed my time at Karasuno, so…”

He smiled down at the paper, settling himself on the rolling stool as he grabbed a sketchbook from beneath the counter. “Is there a specific design you want?”

“Not really. Umm… whatever you think would look nice.” You rubbed the back of your neck, glancing at your friend, but neither her nor the other man were paying either of you any mind.

“How about this?” He held up the sketchbook, showing off a small crow in mid-hop, its eyes trained on a butterfly flying above its head. Small feathers were spread out around it. It was such a simple design, but you fell in love the moment you saw it.

“Yes, that looks amazing!”

“Cool. I’ll be right back.” He stood up, tearing the drawing from the book before returning to the room at the back. When he returned, he was carrying a thin piece of paper that he held gently between his fingers. “Where do you want to get it?”

You glanced at the paper, taking note of its small size. “My upper arm?” You lifted the sleeve of the t-shirt on your left arm, looking up at him for approval.

“Can you take your shirt off, please?”

“W-What?” Your cheeks burned at the sudden request.

“The sleeve might get in the way of the tattoo and ruin it. It’s better if it’s not in the way.” Daichi explained, setting the paper on the table beside the chair before setting up the tools.

Swallowing your nerves, you glanced at him before pulling the shirt over your head, holding it across your chest. He didn’t even spare you a glance as he rolled over to your side, slipping his hands into black gloves before cleaning the area where the tattoo would be placed. The stencil was cold as he carefully smoothed it out across your skin, pressing hard to ensure that the ink transferred. When he was satisfied, he slowly peeled it away, the ink stuck to your skin.

Daichi’s dark eyes met yours as he picked up the ink gun. “Are you ready?” You nodded, taking a deep breath. “Remember to breathe and try not to tense up, it’ll make it hurt worse. If it gets too much or you start to feel lightheaded, let me know and we’ll take a break. I’m going to start now.”

“Okay.” Your eyes followed his movements as he clicked on the gun, lowering the needle to your skin. You sucked in a breath at the strange stinging feeling upon your skin, as if you were getting a shot multiple times. You found yourself focusing on the pain and it was making you feel light-headed – you had to distract yourself. “Hey, I uhh… I’m sorry.”

“Hm?” He didn’t glance away from his work, carefully tracing the lines with the needle. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just… the other night in the quick mart…” You chewed on your bottom lip as you searched your brain for the proper words, meeting his dark eyes when he paused his ministrations to glance at you. “I want to apologize. I was such a jerk to you even though I didn’t know you and… I’m sorry.”

Daichi hummed, the corners of his lips twitching up as he returned to the tattoo, his tone teasing. “Are you just apologizing so I won’t mess up your tattoo?”

“What? N-No, that’s not -” You paused when he started laughing, bringing the gun away from your skin so he wouldn’t mess up the tattoo. “You’re teasing me.”

“Yup,” his dark eyes sparkled with amusement. “Don’t worry, I’m not so petty that I’d mark up someone’s skin over something like that. To be honest, I had forgotten all about it until I saw you.”

Seeing him so close to you made your heart pick up speed because he was a really gorgeous man and you adored his laugh. You wanted to get to know him more, so you threw caution to the wind, looking up at him through your lashes. “Can I… make it up to you? Maybe I can buy you some lunch or something.”

“That sounds nice,” he smiled warmly, his eyes lighting up.

“Way to go, Daichi!” The other man waggled his eyebrows as he looked at the two of you, a smirk upon his lips. “And you always yell at me for trying to date the clients!”

Daichi scowled over his shoulder, a light shade of pink coming to his cheeks. “Shut it, Tanaka! Focus on your client.”

“Oh trust me, I am~” Tanaka wiggled his brows again, this time at Tsuko who giggled in response.

“We should go on a double date!” She suggested happily, to which Tanaka nodded enthusiastically.

Daichi sighed, giving you a sheepish look. “You up for a double date?”

You glanced at your best friend and her new love interest before giving him a smile. “Something tells me we don’t have a choice.”

“Definitely not,” he laughed.

━━━━━━༻⚘༺━━━━━━

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜