#i want margot to turn me and then actually take care of me

[defectivevillain]

tongues and teeth

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reading (can be read as romantic or platonic)

reader's pronouns & race: unspecified, ambiguous

summary:

“What should I do?” Franklyn whines. His voice continues to grate on your ears. Every remark that comes from his lips is dripping in misguided arrogance and misplaced hero worship. He’s staring down at his tortillas with worried eyes. “He hates me.” “Chef Lecter?” You ask incredulously. Franklyn nods. “I don’t think he cares enough to feel any particular way about you,” you say, the words slipping from your lips before you can stop them. There’s a whisper of a dark laugh from far away, an amused exhale of breath.

Chef Hannibal Lecter is a world renowned chef praised for his innovative dishes. He’s won numerous awards and his restaurant, Hawthorn, reflects his talents. There’s something off about him, though. It isn’t until you’re seated in Hawthorn, a distance away from the door guarded by security workers and looking down at a breadless bread plate, that you begin to connect the dots.

word count: 6k | ao3 version

Warnings: spoilers to The Menu, canon-typical blood & violence, suicide, hanging

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is going to be an alternate universe, in which the characters from the Menu are replaced by those from Hannibal. Hannibal is the main chef and the reader takes the place of Margot. In this universe, we’re pretending that the dinner guests—many of whom are criminals in Hannibal—are not hardened killers, but rich consumers in the highest echelons of society. There’s an exact list of which character corresponds with The Menu dinner guests in the endnotes, if you’re super interested.

I have many different justifications for some of the choices I made while writing this, but I don’t want to bore you all to tears, so I’ll detail them in the endnotes. Just know that Hannibal and Julian (the antagonist of The Menu) have very different reasons and motivations for killing, which will impact the story

You’re not sure how you find yourself sitting at a table in Hawthorn, one of the world’s most exclusive restaurants, next to someone you can barely consider an acquaintance. Actually, you do know—you’d just rather not think about it. The boat ride over to the private island, the entirely unnecessary tour of the facilities, and the weirdly stringent rules governing your every move… You indeed remember how you got here. These occurrences all seemed outlandish and entirely otherworldly to you. This entire day has been nothing but a flight of fancy for those with more money than they know what to do with. Not for the first time today, you regret every decision that led you to step into the boat, walk along the sandy shores, and step into this cage of a restaurant. 

Indeed, the space is nothing more than an enclosure. Everyone in the group seemed too excited about the upcoming meal to notice how the door promptly swiveled shut when you entered, sealing you into this urban nightmare of a building. You had turned over your shoulder upon hearing the door close, only to find several men in suits blocking the exit. A horrible feeling had settled in your chest. Whatever may come tonight, one thing is for certain: you are not supposed to leave. This may very well be your last meal. 

You’re ushered rather forcefully to your table. Franklyn Froideveaux, the man who invited you, looks completely ecstatic. You berate yourself for accepting the invitation; in your defense, however, you weren’t exactly given a choice. You owe this man a favor, as begrudged as you are to admit it. You’d rather wash your hands of the scourge that is Franklyn Froideveaux as soon as possible, which is why you find yourself in Hawthorn tonight. This restaurant doesn’t accept single reservations—something Franklyn made sure to announce several times on your walk over. You should be grateful for this opportunity, Franklyn says every few minutes. Currently, he’s prattling on about the cooking utensils in the kitchen, and about some television series that he claimed to watch about the executive chef. You nod and hum at the appropriate moments, but your attention is elsewhere. Conversations fill the space, combining with clinking glasses to create a pleasant ambiance. At least, you suspect it is intended to be pleasant. However, you can’t help but see past the pleasantries scattered around you—especially when in the presence of such… notorious dinner guests. 

First, there’s Frederick Chilton—self-proclaimed genius and institutional leader of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Next to him sits Dr. Bedelia Du Maurier, another high-profile psychologist known for her numerous research publications. Dr. Alana Bloom is seated in the third spot at the table. From what you know, the three professionals are colleagues in the medical field and research partners. 

Next is Freddie Lounds. You remember seeing her make the news for her self-published food review magazine, TattleCulinary. She sits with James Gray, another critic who is more well-known in the art world. Gray edits the journalist's pieces, and you can pick up on the underlying tones of superiority in their dynamic as Lounds dominates their conversation.  

Scott Komeda sits at a table off to the side with his wife, Cheryl. Neither of them look too happy to be here. You can’t say you blame them; although, judging from their luxurious attire, they’re all too familiar with a rich dining experience. A sordid state of affairs, you might say, if they weren't absolutely dripping in wealth. It almost appears as if they’ve dined here before. You certainly wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case. 

Mason and Margot Verger sit at the table to your left. Rumor has it Mason is a cruel bastard. Since his rise to stardom, he’s been embroiled in many scandals—scandals that have dragged him into the courthouse, of all places. He is not a good person. Margot, his sister, sits next to him. Her shoulders are drawn tight, as if she’s on guard. You can’t find it in your heart to pity her—not when you remember her and her brother’s exorbitant wealth. 

And, of course, Franklyn is sitting across from you. Truly, you’d rather be sitting here with anyone but him. Mr. Tobias Budge was supposed to dine with Franklyn instead—as the hostess so rudely reminded you several times—but he couldn’t make it. You wonder if Franklyn also has Tobias under his thumb; although, if he was able to escape this dinner, you suppose Tobias is in a much better spot than you are. 

You allow your gaze to wander about the room. Everyone is preoccupied with speaking to one another or sipping the proffered wine. Upon first glance, there isn’t much that this group has in common. However, the more you look at them, the more you’re struck with one fatal realization: this entire group is enamored with greed. You can see it in the most minute of gestures—the roll of their eyes when they’re left waiting, the expectations they carry on shoulders that have never known burden or suffering. Indeed, it costs an excessive amount to take part in this dinner—this dining experience, Franklyn is keen to remind you. 

Amuse bouche is served first. You stare down at the dish. It looks to be no more than two mouthfuls of food. You can’t help but huff a laugh from under your breath, which goes entirely unnoticed by Franklyn. He’s too busy sneaking pictures of the food—something the group was explicitly ordered not to do—and ranting about something pretentious. 

As you stare down at your plate, you feel a prickling sensation rising up your spine. Unnerved, you turn around, only to find that a new addition to the kitchen is staring at you. It’s not just a new addition, you realize with growing horror, but the chef himself. You’re the first to break eye contact, as you tear your gaze away and focus on the appetizer. The man unsettles you. 

Ultimately, you don’t end up eating the dish, so Franklyn takes it and eats it himself. Somehow, his behavior has grown worse since you first set foot on the island. You contemplate the thought for a moment, before you’re interrupted by a loud clapping sound. It makes your heart race out of your chest; startled, you turn around to find the chef standing in the center of the room. 

“My name is Hannibal Lecter,” he says, his voice cutting through the eerie silence. “Today, you will ingest some of the building blocks of nature and, perhaps, even nature herself.” You take the gifted opportunity to study the man before you. Perfectly coiffed hair frames a sharp, angular face and mahogany eyes. An understanding smile is plastered on his face, yet malice curves his lips and sharpens his teeth. Your heart is hammering in your chest. You’re thrown out of your reverie by the light applause scattered about the room. Clenching your fists at your sides, you try to remain calm and turn back to face Franklyn. The cooks descend the stairs and serve you the first course. Once again, the dish you’re presented with resembles a display more than a meal. You pick around at it for a few moments before abandoning the thought. 

If the first course is sparse, the second course is almost entirely empty of nourishment. Lecter’s description—an allusion to the privilege of the very guests sitting around his restaurant—is a warning for what lies ahead. The group will not be receiving bread, you realize as the cooks step down from the kitchen and fan out across the room. You have to suppress your irritation at the scene. Sure, you understand what the chef is trying to say. However, you get the feeling you’re not his intended audience. You’re not from the same world as these people. This is painfully present in the way Freddie Lounds tastes her dish, gushing about its distinct flavor profile. You grit your teeth to stop yourself from saying something stupid. 

You’re anchored to your seat. Ultimately, you don’t belong here amongst these upper-class socialites, born with silver spoons on their tongues and privilege in their every movement; you feel like a sheep in wolf’s clothing. 

The third course doesn’t bring nourishment, but it certainly brings a host of other feelings. The chef’s anecdote about his childhood is disturbing—especially when punctuated by the dish he serves, chicken thigh with scissors stabbed in it. When the dish is served, you can’t bear to touch it. Thankfully, there is an accompaniment to the poultry: tortillas. The tortillas have engraved drawings on them, supposedly. You unfold the tortilla cautiously. To your disbelief, there are indeed intricate depictions on the tortilla. Your heart hammers in your chest as you look at the single tortilla you were served. It’s an exact replica of how you’re seated right now, except Franklyn is missing. His chair is pictured and there’s a dish placed on his side of the table, but the man is excluded from the image. Upon closer examination, you find his fork and knife positioned vertically on the plate. Dread courses through your chest as you recognize the nonverbal sign of a finished meal. This does not bode well for Franklyn. 

Franklyn, seeing that your attention has been captured by the tortilla, moves to grab his own. His tortillas are engraved with sketches of him seated at this exact table, holding up his phone and sneaking pictures of the meal. The color promptly drains from his face. You’re about to ask him why he looks so disturbed when you hear several outcries from the tables around you. Each person’s tortillas are depictions of unsavory, humiliating truths. The three researchers are whispering hurriedly amongst each other. Mason Verger is glaring at Margot, as if the dish is somehow her fault. Mrs. Komeda is staring at her tortillas with wide eyes and her husband seems to be sweating. Suddenly, you feel as if you were spared from any potential humiliation and embarrassment. 

“What should I do?” Franklyn whines. His voice continues to grate on your ears. Every remark that comes from his lips is dripping in unfounded arrogance and misplaced hero worship. He’s staring down at his tortillas with worried eyes. “He hates me.”

“The chef?” You ask incredulously. Franklyn nods. “I don’t think he cares enough to feel any particular way about you,” you say, the words slipping from your lips before you can stop them. There’s a whisper of a dark laugh from far away, an amused exhale of breath. 

Franklyn’s preoccupation with his tortillas prompts you to look down at your own. You look down at the tortilla warily. Suddenly, you realize your picture has another meaning. It’s not just an omen for Franklyn, but for you, too. It’s a warning: this night is going to be a bloodbath. 

The fourth course validates the trepidation settling in your chest. Chef Lecter allows a cook, Jeremy, to take center stage. Immediately, you know something is wrong. From what you’ve seen, Hannibal Lecter treats cooking as a performance. What performer would willingly let another take the stage? Unless… that other performer was the entertainment. Your suspicions are proven correct when you see Jeremy put a gun to his mouth and fire it off. You flinch at the gunshot, even though you’re expecting it. The guests around you scream. 

The subsequent dish is aptly dubbed “The Mess.” There’s a significant resemblance to the human body, and the dish’s sauce looks like blood. You swallow hard, feeling rather nauseous. Franklyn rubs his hands together and begins eating, as if someone hadn’t just committed suicide before his very eyes. He is entirely unbothered and you’re sorely tempted to snap your fingers in front of his face. 

You feel completely sick to your stomach. You grip the table hard, trying to keep yourself anchored to this horrible reality. A man died before your very eyes. You’re going to die tonight, surrounded by wealthy, privileged assholes. Bolts of pain slide through your fingers. Before the sensation can begin to truly burn, there’s a harsh grip on your shoulder.  Hannibal Lecter, the chef, is looming over you. You flinch at the sudden touch and look up at him, while trying to regain feeling in your locked joints. There’s a buzzing sound in your ears. The chef’s eyes gleam crimson in the bright lighting. Franklyn lets out a weird squeal, clearly excited by the prospect of Lecter visiting your table. Unfortunately, the chef doesn’t have eyes for Franklyn. He’s staring at you hard enough for your skin to be lit with a phantom burn. 

“How are you enjoying the meal?” Lecter implores, looking down at you. He’s rather handsome up close, you realize. You try to choke out a response, but Franklyn is quicker. 

“It’s wonderful, sir!” Franklyn gushes shamelessly, “Truly exquisite-”

“I wasn’t speaking to you,” the chef interjects, sending him a withering glare before focusing back on you. He raises an eyebrow ever so slightly at you. You’re scrambling for words, empty promises and compliments that will leave him satisfied enough to leave you the hell alone. Thankfully, you’re spared by the enraged scream of Scott Komeda. The chef’s attention is drawn away from you and you breathe a sigh of relief. Lecter clasps his hands behind his back and levels the man with an expectant gaze. 

Mr. Komeda’s eyes are frantic and he breathes heavily. “Get me the hell out of here!” He screams. 

There are a few beats of silence, before the hostess—Abigail, you think her name is—paces over to him and places a hand on his shoulder. She whispers something quietly to him, something that goes unheard by everyone else. Whatever she says, it must be suitably disturbing, because the man’s face pales significantly. Abigail’s grip tightens on his shoulder. 

“Which hand would you like to lose, sir?” She asks politely. The placating smile on her face almost makes you second guess what you just heard her say. The man blinks at her in evident disbelief. His wife tries to pull him back, but security guards descend on the man and he doesn’t budge. “Left or right?” He does not answer.

“Left hand, ring finger,” Lecter announces, breaking through the tense silence that was descending in the air. You inhale sharply, nearly choking on air at the reminder of the dangerous man lurking near you. You had nearly forgotten his presence. Abigail nods and walks back towards the kitchen, returning with a sharpened butcher’s knife. 

You avert your eyes, but the man’s scream is enough to inform you of what occurs. When you turn back, you find Mr. Komeda holding his bloodied hand. His ring finger rests on the elegant tablecloth. You very nearly vomit right then and there—just barely managing to avoid the urge by placing a hand over your mouth and turning away. Mrs. Komeda’s jaw is frozen wide-open, and everyone else seems just as nauseated as you. At least, everyone except Franklyn. Somehow, amidst all this chaos and madness, Franklyn is still eating. His unaffected ferocity unsettles you. 

“Let’s get a breath of fresh air, shall we?” Lecter asks, before motioning for everyone to rise from their seats. No one seems to understand his question, in the wake of what just happened. After he repeats the question, the guests are quick to rise from their chairs. It is dangerous to try opposing the chef. You stand up and follow the group back through the entrance hall, until you step out the door and outside the building. The chef waits in the center of the assembled group, pausing for a few moments to let any stragglers catch up. Franklyn is still chewing. The researchers are whispering amongst themselves, and Mason looks two seconds from decapitating his sister with his own hands. You keep your eyes firmly on the ground. 

“You will be given a forty five second head start,” he begins. Everyone stares at him in confusion. “You may try to run. After forty five seconds have passed, my staff will chase you down.” Lecter doesn’t finish speaking before Frederick Chilton is sprinting away. The chef huffs in amusement, not looking the slightest bit threatened. He turns to regard the rest of the group. “Your head start begins… now.” Alana Bloom and Bedelia Du Maurier exchange glances before running away. Mr. Komeda stumbles away, with Mrs. Komeda tugging him along. Freddie Lounds and James Gray run in opposite directions, foregoing the path straight ahead and diving through the trees and bushes. Margot Verger doesn’t hesitate to run away. Mason watches her go for a few seconds, before pursuing her. This leaves Chef Hannibal Lecter, Franklyn Froideveaux, and you. You turn on your heel, about to run alongside the exterior of the restaurant and behind the building. A loud clap interrupts your momentary escape. 

“Stay.” You swivel back around, only to see Lecter staring you down. His eyes are glittering in the dark night. You bite the inside of your cheek. Of course, you could simply ignore his command. However, you know you’ll be caught by his staff eventually, anyway. Might as well spare him the chase, you think to yourself. You nod and take a step to break the distance between the two of you. Franklyn sends you an incredulous gaze that you pretend not to notice. “We will go inside.” Lecter doesn’t wait for your answer, instead walking past you and back towards the door. You follow after him apprehensively, wondering what he could be planning. Perhaps he will slaughter you and serve you as the fifth course. The thought makes you shudder. You step through the opened doorway and stop once you’ve crossed the threshold. Chef Lecter is staring at Franklyn with a bored expression. 

“Not you,” he says, effectively dismissing the man. Franklyn, evidently embarrassed, steps back from the door. The attendant closes the door, leaving you as Lecter’s only dinner guest who is still in the building. The chef’s shoes click against the polished floors. You momentarily contemplate ducking down into a hallway, but you realize you don’t know the building well enough to ensure you have a fighting chance at escape. Lecter leads you through the kitchen and into another room, waiting for you to enter before closing the door behind you. The room is sparsely furnished.

“This entire evening has been meticulously planned,” the chef says, taking a seat. You move to do the same. “You are not according to the plan.” He doesn’t seem too troubled by the notion—it’s a mild inconvenience. You frown. Before, you had attributed the chef to be a person taking his grievances out on his guests—each of whom serves as a reason for his loss of love for his craft. You were wrong, you’re beginning to realize. Hannibal Lecter is doing this for his own amusement. The social commentary behind it all is certainly motivation for his actions, but he does not intend to offset the system—the fragile ecosystem of the high-end restaurant industry. He is utilizing it to cater to his desires. What exactly are his desires, though? 

“Why are you doing this?” You decide to ask, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“Whenever feasible, one should always try to eat the rude.” It is not an answer to your question, yet it somehow provides you an explanation nonetheless. From there, the chef manipulates the conversation expertly, asking you all sorts of questions about your childhood, your adult life, your career… You’re beginning to feel unnerved, all up until he releases you from your pseudo-captivity. His attention has been recaptured by his staff, which you are extremely grateful for. His gaze felt as if it was searing through you. When you return to the dining area, you’re surprised to find the rest of the guests are already seated. They look tired, their hair messy and their clothing slightly rumpled. Just as you sit down, you’re immediately assaulted with tons of questions from Franklyn. They start off innocuous enough, but soon descend into an envious madness.

“Why would he want to speak with you?” Franklyn spits, stabbing at the remains of his meal. You watch as he shoves another bite into his mouth, seemingly immune to the positively disgusted glare Chef Lecter is pointing at him right now. 

“Franklyn.” The chef is heading towards your table. Franklyn practically lights up upon the chef saying his name. Lecter steps impossibly closer, until he’s almost towering over your table. It feels as if he’s looking down on you—and he sort of is, from his position. You try to just breathe. His attention isn’t on you right now. “There’s something you haven’t told your friend here.” The chef’s tone is slightly mocking.  His mention of you throws you for a loop. 

You look to Franklyn, only to find that he’s steadily paling. Agitation itches beneath your skin as you try to rationalize what could possibly cause such a fearful expression. Lecter is nearly smirking from his position at your side. You grit your teeth and clench your fists under the tablecloth.

“What were you told about tonight?” Lecter prompts the man. Everyone is looking at Franklyn now. Even the kitchen seems to have fallen into an uneasy quiet. What could he have possibly been told about tonight? You’re not sure. 

“Everyone would die,” Franklyn admits. There’s a ringing sound suddenly, and it takes several seconds for you to realize the sound is in your mind. Every thought almost seems to come to a screeching halt, as you try to come to terms with the unshakeable fact that Franklyn willingly attended this dinner, despite knowing he would die. 

“And what happened to your original companion?” Lecter muses. “Who did you bring in Mr. Budge’s stead?” You don’t stay still for long enough to hear his next remark. There is a sharp knife lying next to your fork and spoon, almost as if this very interaction had been planned (if not for you, then certainly for Tobias Budge). Rage governs your every move, as you realize that Franklyn brought you here despite knowing you would die. This night was a death sentence, executed by Franklyn himself. Before you can contemplate the consequences, you lunge across the table in a fluid movement, before reaching out and cutting him. Before you can stab him, you’re roughly yanked backwards by someone. The knife slices at the skin on Franklyn’s cheek, and he screams loudly. You try to fight the person’s grip off, and it takes a few people to hold you back from Franklyn. When you see the shock and fear on his face, you’re filled with a cruel sense of satisfaction and vengeance. 

“That is enough,” the chef remarks, slicing through the tense air with a simple sentence. 

“Sorry, Chef,” Franklyn immediately replies, a bead of sweat trickling down his face. Does the thought of falling out of Lecter’s favor really distress him so? Although, when you think about it, you’re not sure if he was ever in the chef’s favor. 

The chef looks at you now. You don’t bother apologizing. You didn't do anything wrong. If you’re correct, Chef Lecter engineered that very interaction. You don’t regret lashing out at Franklyn, so you meet Lecter’s expectant gaze head-on. Eventually, he seems to come to terms with your resolve, because his attention falls back to Franklyn. 

“Franklyn,” the chef starts. You see Franklyn nearly go limp at the prospect of Lecter using his name. You grimace. Something feels wrong here. Indeed, the chef’s next remark seems to be an omen. “You believe yourself superior to me.” 

“No, Chef,” Franklyn is quick to say. The patrons around you are entirely silent. The room almost seems to buzz around you, ringing with unresolved tension. You think back to Franklyn’s hero worship of the chef, clumsily combined with his own attempts at thoughtful critiques. 

“You have made a mockery of my craft,” Lecter continues.

“No, Chef-” Franklyn sputters. 

“Now,” the chef breaks off, a glint in his eyes, “We will test your assertions. Come here,” the chef orders. Franklyn obeys and, once he’s in the kitchen, Lecter awards him an apron and ties it around him. Franklyn looks absolutely over the moon, but you see the gesture for what it really is: the final nail in his coffin. “Everyone, please step back. Franklyn will cook something for our guests.” A hollowed laughter echoes throughout the space as the cooks chuckle, before stepping back to let Franklyn have control over the kitchen. 

What ensues is quite easily the most embarrassing and humiliating display you have ever been forced to witness. By the end, there are tears slipping down Franklyn’s face. You almost feel bad for him—almost. Your sympathy quickly fades to obscurity when you remember that he invited you here despite being told everyone would die. 

When Franklyn’s dish is complete, there’s a renewed silence around the space as the chef takes a few steps forward and leans down to smell it. Chef Lecter motions for a cook to step next to him and gestures for them to taste the dish. The cook eats the food, their left eyebrow ticking up ever so slightly.

“How is it?” Lecter questions. 

“Horrible, Chef,” the cook answers. “The lamb is undercooked, and the sauce is practically inedible.” They grab a napkin and wipe their mouth, before putting it in the pocket of their apron and stepping back to join the rest of the cooking staff in the background. The background is an apt term for the group—they are mere backdrops, accessories, to Chef Lecter’s performance. 

“Do you see now, Franklyn?” Chef Lecter asks, an understanding smile on his face. All you can see is sharpened teeth and a crooked malice. “Guests must remain in the dining hall, just as cooks must remain in the kitchen. Take off your apron; you’re dismissed.” But Chef Lecter isn’t done yet. The moment Franklyn takes off his apron and holds it in a clenched fist, Lecter places a hand on his shoulder and leans in to whisper something to him. It’s incomprehensible to you, but you can still see the way Franklyn’s expression falls, before an eerie resolve sets his shoulders. Without explanation, Franklyn steps further into the kitchen and disappears from sight. 

Things don’t end there, however. Lecter then calls your name, beckoning you to follow after him as he weaves through the busy kitchen with ease. The rest of the patrons are banished to return to their seats. You glance back at them for a moment, before returning your attention to the chef in front of you. Once you turn the corner and are out of view of the guests, the chef turns on you. 

“Abigail was supposed to bring dessert,” the chef remarks. His gaze flits to the hostess behind you for a moment. You hadn’t noticed her presence. Lecter stares at you. “Fetch the barrel from the smokehouse. It is a key instrument for the next course.” You stare at him in disbelief. You desperately want to object, but you suppress the urge. Once you think about it, you realize you’re being given a golden opportunity: a chance to leave the restaurant and explore the premises. Perhaps you could find something to aid your escape. With that knowledge in the back of your mind, you accept Lecter’s request.  

You nod and turn around, intending to retrace your steps. You’re walking into the kitchen when something enters your field of vision. You squint and take a step closer, eyes widening as you process just what you’re seeing. Franklyn is hanging from a noose, feet hanging limp in the air. There’s a horrible motley of bruises around his neck and his eyes almost seem to pop out of their sockets. Your eyes are inexplicably led to the bloody cut on his cheek. You take a deep breath and pretend you didn’t see anything, before heading through the winding hall and exiting through the door Lecter mentioned. When you reach the open air, you feel a new sense of tranquility and calm hit you. The night air doesn’t know of the pain and suffering inflicted tonight; its briskness seems to ground you to the present.

You manage to make it to the smokehouse and, once you find the barrel, you drag it outside. However, knowing this may be your only opportunity for exploration, you decide to look around a little. Leaving the barrel to rest near the smokehouse, you head towards the nearest building. To your surprise, the side door is unlocked. When you open it, you’re certainly not expecting to be standing in a living room. Upon closer examination, this appears to be a home—the chef’s, most likely. Abigail had mentioned that all the cooking staff sleep in barracks, which leaves Lecter as the only viable owner of this residence. You look around the space, unsurprised to find that it looks meticulously clean. 

You look around a little more, finding a gleaming stainless steel kitchen and an elaborate dining room. There’s only one space that remains: hidden behind the wooden door that you’re currently staring at. You tentatively grasp the door knob and slowly twist it, only to find that it’s locked. You tug at the door again, only for the sound of footsteps to distract you. 

You turn around, your heart nearly jumping out of your chest as you see Abigail standing a short distance from you. “No one is supposed to enter Chef’s personal quarters,” Abigail remarks, her voice hollow. There’s a dullness to her eyes that disturbs you.

You frown. “Why are you here, then?” You ask. She stills for a moment, clearly not expecting the question. A moment later, the hostess regains her composure. 

“You were asked to fetch the barrel, because of my mistake,” Abigail recounts, eyebrows furrowing to let you know what she really thinks of that idea. She crosses her arms over her chest, her eyes gleaming in the dim lighting. “But Chef never asked me to fetch it.” There’s a dangerous look in her eyes and a weapon in her hand. 

It happens in the blink of an eye. One moment, Abigail is running at you; the next, you’re standing over her bleeding body. A knife juts out of her throat and it seems that she’s choking on her own blood. The light slowly leaves her eyes, until her form is terribly still on the kitchen floor. You take a shaky breath in, finding the effort rather laborious. It takes you several moments to come to terms with the fact that you just committed murder. Once you’re finally able to steel your nerves, you take the hostess’s key and walk over to the door. After twisting the key, the door swings open to reveal a hallway. You don’t make it more than a few steps into the hall before noticing a doorway to your left, barricaded by a steel door with a small glass window. Against your best judgment, you steal a glance through the window.

There are chains and sharpened tools lining the walls, metallic gleam burning your vision. A corpse hangs from the ceiling, flayed and mutilated beyond recognition. It isn’t even the thought of a corpse that frightens you. No, this corpse is different from the ones you saw in the smokehouse—this one isn’t an animal. The realization slowly sinks into your skin, sending your heart roaring in your ears. Human corpses hang from dangling meat hooks, in various states of mutilation. 

You’re suddenly immensely glad you never ate anything. That chicken thigh served in the third course… was probably not chicken. You shudder. One thought triumphs over all others in your mind: you need to leave.

Afraid of what else you may find, you decide to turn back. You retrace your steps and walk back through the kitchen with bloody flooring and the empty living room until you’re outside once more. The walk to the smokehouse is quick, but once you grab the barrel, you’re reminded of how heavy it is. Your trip back to the kitchen takes longer than you’d like but, fortunately, Chef Lecter doesn’t seem bothered by how long it takes you to return. He only nods and instructs you to give the barrel to one of the cooks. Lecter’s attention is then taken elsewhere—as he still has a dessert to prepare—so you decide to take advantage. You know a way out now, after all. You have to wait for an opportune moment to access the outside door, since cooks are mulling about the kitchen near the exit. Eventually, you manage to find an ideal time frame for your escape and, with equal apprehension and anticipation, you walk over to the door. Your hand doesn’t even clasp the doorknob before there’s a hand on your shoulder. 

“Leaving so soon?” You turn around, dread prickling across your skin as you’re faced with Chef Lecter’s disappointment. You’re not sure you’ll make it out of this alive, after all. Every time you blink, you see yourself as the next course in this absurdly fanciful feast. The Unwanted Guest, the chef would probably call it. “The final course hasn’t been served yet.”

You manifest a confidence that you don’t necessarily feel. “I’m finished eating,” you assert. Beneath what you hope is a cool exterior, you’re panicking. You can’t think of an excuse that will permit you to leave. Lecter seems to recognize that, because he only arches an eyebrow at you. He is not threatened.

“You’ll miss dessert,” he remarks, a sad smile on his face. You know the gesture is nothing but an act, a performance put on for an audience of one. You bite the inside of your cheek, stopping yourself from doing anything rash. 

“I’m not much of a sweets person,” you eventually say, when the torrent of noise in your mind manages to calm down. The kitchen continues to hustle and bustle behind you, providing a subdued background of sound. It’s not enough to drown out your fear. 

“Stay,” Chef Lecter insists. 

“I couldn’t possibly,” you answer. You need to think of something quickly. What could justify your departure? “My clothes…” You break off, motioning down to your dress clothes, which are now stained with Abigail’s blood and who knows what else. This is as good of an excuse as you have, but it just may work. Stained clothing is extremely improper, and if there’s one thing you’ve learned from this hellish night, it’s that Chef Lecter abhors rudeness. 

It must only be a few seconds of silence before Lecter speaks again, but it feels like an eternity. “Very well,” the chef finally responds. Lecter reaches towards you, his hand frighteningly close to your hip, before he opens the door for you. It feels too good to be true. There’s no way you actually convinced him to let you go, right? 

He’s still holding the door open. This isn’t a trick. As you stand in the doorway, you briefly contemplate staying to rescue the other people. You contemplate fighting back against this chef and his staff. The thought doesn’t last long—not when visages of the guests are conjured up in your mind’s eye—Mr and Mrs. Komeda’s annoyed, impatient expressions, Miss Lounds and Mr. Gray debating the integrity of an ingredient worth more than your very life, Franklyn eating while blood splatters, the researchers amicably discussing the lives of their patients over the very depiction of the chef’s own trauma, Mason Verger gazing at his sister predatorily. None of these people are worth saving. 

“Thank you for the meal,” you murmur to Lecter. Somehow, it feels like the appropriate thing to say. It must be a good choice, because a small smile appears on the chef’s face. It’s a fleeting gesture, but it almost looks genuine. 

“I hope to see you here again soon,” Lecter says. You don’t acknowledge that remark, instead turning on your heel and walking away. The chef’s ensuing laughter follows you and echoes in your ears, even as you board the ship and sail back to the mainland.

©2023, @defectivehero | @defectivevillain, All Rights Reserved.

Character Guide Chef Julian = Hannibal Lecter Margot = Reader Soren, Dave, and Bryce, business partners = Frederick Chilton, Bedelia Du Maurier, and Alana Bloom, research partners Lillian Bloom, food critic = Freddie Lounds Tim, Lillian’s editor = James Gray Tyler Ledford = Franklyn Froideveaux Ms. Westervelt, Tyler’s original guest = Tobias Budge Richard and Anne Leibrandt, restaurant regulars = Scott and Cheryl Komeda George Diaz, movie star = Mason Verger George’s personal assistant, Felicity Lynn = Margot Verger Elsa, Chef’s right hand = Abigail Hobbs

Adjusted Menu (Appetizer) Amuse bouche: compressed and pickled cucumber melon, milk snow, and charred lace. (First Course) The Island: plants from around the island, seaweed, raw scallop served on a rock from the island (Second Course) Breadless Bread Plate: no bread, savory accompaniments (Third Course) Memory: house-smoked chicken thigh, served with scissors stabbed in the meat, along with house-made tortillas (Fourth Course) The Mess: pressure-cooked vegetables, roasted filet, potato confit, beef au jus, and bone marrow Franklyn’s Bullshit: undercooked lamb with inedible shallot-leek butter sauce

Justifications At first, I thought Abigail as Elsa was a stretch. Then, I remembered that Abigail helped source the victims for her father, Garret Jacob Hobbs. That led me to conceptualize an older Abigail—one who wasn’t afraid to embrace the cruelty that she witnessed all around her. She is rather similar to Elsa, especially in the sense that she longs for Hannibal’s approval (just as Elsa longs for Julian’s). Just like Elsa, she is delegated to the sidelines—forced to carry out the chef’s every whim without even a moment’s gratitude.

Freddie Lounds as the food critic (Lillian) just makes perfect sense. She would be a perfect food critic—entirely unflinching and brutally honest. The Komedas fit pretty well too, and I wasn’t even aware of their existence until I looked through the Hannibal wiki for characters to substitute. Mrs. Komeda—and her husband, by extension—was a frequent guest at Hannibal’s dinner parties, which bled rather well into her status as a regular at his restaurant.

Since Hannibal’s relatives aren’t exactly alive or easily accessible, I scrapped the whole alcoholic mother bit that Julian had going, and instead just kept the third course as a vague allusion to Hannibal’s childhood. The bit about having the males hunt and the females dine felt misogynistic (and also exclusive of people who aren’t exclusively male/female), especially without the context of Katherine and Julian’s interactions, so I just scrapped it. Now, everyone gets to run from a murderer! Woooo!!

Y’all, I did A LOT of research for this fic… so pls lmk if u enjoyed reading it !!!! <3

TAGLIST (hoped y'all don't mind I'm tagging you in this, but I figured you'd like another Hannibal piece): @its-ares @tobbotobbs @xrisdoesntexist @gr1mmac3 @tiredstarcerberuslamb @yourlocalratwriter @kingkoku @kahuunknown @atlas-king1 @pendragon-writes @slipknotcentury @cryinersaved @the-ultimate-librarian @starre-eyes @pendragon-writes @peterparkeeperer @gayschlatt69

[downtowncannibal]

My Black Christmas Informational Masterlist(?):

Every now and then I get asked for links or sources to some of the things I post and/or reference. This serves to be easy access to anyone interested in more info regarding the film, Bob Clark, or Billy in general. I'm sure I will expand with more links or info at some point, but here are the basics.

Docs and Commentaries:

Commentary featuring Nick Mancuso reprising his role as Billy. If you're not entirely interested in seeing Billy be represented as something beyond the figure in the movie or are looking to gain more knowledge on the creation of Black Christmas, this probably isn't for you.

Just as the title says, this is a Mini-Documentary that explores Black Christmas, its legacy, and a look into it's production. If your here for more info on Billy I HIGHLY recommend this as Nick has some incredibly interesting insight. Includes Lynne Griffin, John Saxon, along with Carl Zitter. Also includes some older clips of Albert J (Black Christmas's Camera Man), Bob Clark, Olivia Hussey, and Margot Kidder.

Closest thing to an ACTUAL documentary on Black Christmas I've seen. Goes good into detail about the production and creation of Black Christmas going from "The Babysitter" to "Stop Me".

There are a TON more extra's from the special release in 2015. Here is a playlist which compiles all that are publicly available. This does not include Bob Clarks actual commentary, nor Keir and John's. I own those on DVD, and I'll see what I can do about converting them onto my laptop, but I majorly recommend purchasing the 4k re-release from last year if you're looking for them. It's def worth your money and time if you're interested.

Tv Spots, Radio, etc:

Actual Documents:

2nd stage of the Black Christmas screenplays. Tread VERY lightly with this if you are sensitive to topics such as CSA and Child abuse, if you catch my drift. Has some problems with pages being turned upside down, but that's nothing I can fix at the moment.

The novelization based off of the "Stop Me" Screenplay. Questionable canonical status, but that's up to you. As it is based off "Stop Me" I am once again warning you to tread lightly and take care of yourself as the same warnings previous very much apply here.

ETC:

Not sure what to categorize this as, but I frequently see this slip under the radar of many people.

If you're looking at this masterlist because all of a sudden you've gained a fascination with this stupid fucking misogynist like I did, YOU WANT TO HEAR THIS! It is from Billy's POV and it gives a great insight into his mind and uses audio from the film, which if you rewatch the film after listening to this oh my god you will not be able to stop hearing shit. (Such as the fact I did not notice the music and wind in the beginning of the film when Billy enters the attic is literally just a bunch of people whispering his name.) Give it a listen, but again, tread lightly, if you, once again, catch my drift.

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Are you gonna talk about how Marlene is named after Margo Lane and Steven is bascially Lamont Cranstron Margo's boyfriend from the Shadow and Moench said as much

Because the shadow was on when Marc was a kid in volume #1 going by him being in his 30s and Elias leaving Europe in 1939 so like is Steven a Lamont Cranstron introject in the comics?

My friend, you just hit on a long time love of mine. 

Marlene Alraune. I've long had mixed feelings about the original flame of the Moon Knight system. 

She's absolutely a badass who could always take care of herself in a time when the women in comics were often just there to be eye-candy and rescued. 

Heck, half the time Marlene did the rescuing. The number of times she saved Moon Knight is quite high. 

But she also fell in love with an idea of who she wanted 'Marc' to be. When he didn't fit that idea, she could often be quite cruel and abelistic. 

Sometimes she was good for them, trying to get them to face their problems and let go of the past.... But usually she was the one pushing them to 'snap out of' their mental health issues and be Steven while forgetting the other two. 

Now, I don't know if she's based on Margot Lane. But it is easy to see that she is meant to be Moon Knight's version of Margo Lane. 

(I would love to see your source of Moench saying such! I'm always curious to see what the OG has to say about his MK starts). 

For those out of the loop: 

Margo Lane is from "The Shadow" (one of my favorites!!!). A comic created in 1931 and turned into a very popular radio play in 1937 (officially it was tested in the waters as early as 1930 before he was hashed out into a literary sense in 31 and then revived again in 37 as his own familiar self). 

It was later made into least one (Okay) movie with Alec Baldwin in 1994. 

Margo was created originally for the radio drama as a companion when they realized they had far too many men in the line up and it would become difficult to distinguish the voices. But MAN was she a heavy hitter! 

She was incredibly intelligent, fearless, and didn't put up with his shit. 

Orson Welles was the voice of the Shadow and his alter ego Lamont Cranston. Let me tell you... Once you've heard Orson deliver the line: "Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows!" You ain’t ever going back. 

You can still find the radio plays on most podcast services. 

Margot Lane fresh out of the 1930s! 

Now, I can 100% see the comparison between Marlene and Margot. At the start.

Complicated love interest of a character with alter egos and a complex social standing and questionable mental health at times. (I could go on and on about Lamont but I won't). 

Marlene was originally a damsel in distress that evolved into a badass independent woman. Margot was originally a fast talking quick witted woman who on occasion needed rescuing. 

As for their personalities? I’d say they are quite different. Perhaps Marlene started out as an idea to give Moon Knight an interesting companion. In fairness, imagining early MK without Marlene is actually a bit dull. You NEED to have that inner circle that knows his past and has an interest in helping him. As for Margot, she isn’t fleshed out well in the early radio show and she wasn’t in the original comic/story until after the radioshow. She was just a voice with witty remarks and smart observation that paired very well with Orson Wells. 

Now, you mentioned Steven as basically a fictive of Lamont Cranston. 

The timeline can line up for the original run. We already know little Marc liked to play with super hero toys and enjoyed an escape in fictional stories (Mostly from Lemire's run as we never see little Marc in the OG run outside of Zelenetz' 2 part exploration of the past in like, one page). It is possible he listened to The Shadow on the radio.

In the MCU, Steven is canonically a fictive. In the comics, we don't know the story of how and when Jake and Steven first came about. 

Let's look at Lamont Cranston's character. 

Lamont is a wealthy man-about-town. A carefree playboy that travels the world to 'learn the old mysteries that modern science has not yet rediscovered'. Once he is finished traveling and learning his special abilities, he returns to New York. (The radio show and the print stories are vastly different at this point). 

Now, Lamont is not really given a lot of 'radio time' in the old broadcasts. He's just a rich fellow with a nice girl on his arm. He's given more of a personality much much later in different installments of the Shadow. 

And while Steven Grant is originally SUPPOSED to be the main alter from issue #1, he quickly falls out of favor and the comic shifts to Jake Lockley as being the main face with Steven being the one to hold down the home life and the cash flow. 

As for Moench saying it was an inspiration? I don't know. I'd have to see the interview. But back in the late 70s and early 80s, the usual alter ego of superheroes tended to be rich, casual, playboys. 

Which brings me to the big kicker. Bob Kane and Bill Finger, creators of Batman, have explicitly said they based Batman off of pulp mystery characters like The Shadow. In fact, his first comic was a direct takeoff of a Shadow story! 

You can see the homage to this in The Batman Animated Adventures with "The Gray Ghost" that was voiced by Adam West (two homages in one people! I love it). 

And we all know that Moon Knight is constantly being compared to Batman (it's the cape. It has to be the cape). 

Batman was started in 1939. 

SO. One might just as easily argue that little Marc Spector loved to read comics and maybe picked up a Batman comic or two. So as much as Lamont could be where Steven got started, so too could Bruce Wayne. 

Let that one sit with you for a minute. 

I mean, if we're going down the rabbit hole of modern comics ripping on old radio broadcasts... Who's to say Kato from the Green Hornet isn't the inspiration for Robin? Or that he isn't the inspiration for Frenchie? A side kick that knows how to fight and works on cars and drives them around? Sounds like Frenchie to me. Heck, the Green Hornet and Kato even have a cameo in the Adam West Batman show with the building climbing bit they used to do.

All comics come from somewhere and over time, all comics will eventually resemble another as inspiration is sort of the name of the game.

I don't think that Steven Grant in the comics was a fictive. Especially if you go off Lemire's run as the real cannon event and we see a young Steven Grant making friends with a young Marc. I think at that point, Steven presented as the perfect Jewish Son that a Rabbi was supposed to have that Marc couldn't be. It is possible he had traits as an introject (adoption of traits and personalities of others), but it is truly hard to say from where he got the information.

But it is interesting to think of them listening to the old radio shows and drawing ideas from them on becoming the hero that is Moon Knight. After all, the Shadow wasn't exactly known for being merciful and his villains did tend to.... not survive.

[cedarxwing]

Your turn to suffer :D <3

3, 7, 19

Oof, these are spicy 😩

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

Gosh, there are so many to choose from... I saw someone call the Margot/Will sex scene "corrective rape" the other day and it made me see red, but I think that person's a troll. How seriously can you take such an opinion?

The worst take that I think people are serious about is that Alana didn't care about/was abusing Will in S1. She failed to see Will's encephalitis because that's what the plot demanded of her, not because she didn't care. Honestly, I hate any and all Alana bashing because the writers put so little effort into her development, it feels like punching down. She's like a child's stick figure drawing of a character. Blame the writing, not her!

---

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

This is so hard because I don't hate any of the characters. This is like choosing a least favorite child. T_T

If I had to choose, I'd say I begin to get annoyed with Freddie Lounds. She was meant to die, dammit! The narrative kept setting it up and taking it away. She was like Chekov's rude person. It would've been cool for her to go out in a blaze of glory, and I think she was meant to, eventually. Maybe Hannibal would've eaten her brain. Maybe she would've had a sword fight with Will, idk, I just wanted something, anything, to resolve the tension!

---

19. you're mad/ashamed/horrified you actually kind of like…

I'll proudly admit to liking all the crazy shit on Hannibal lol. I doubt I'm in the minority for lusting after Will in the tube scene or any of his other sweaty encephalitis moments. Love thinking about those therapy sessions where Hannibal was drugging him.

Had to think long and hard about this, but I'm ashamed to admit that I kinda like the Will/Hannibal/Alana love triangle. Hannibal fucking Will's crush? That's hot. I just know he was thinking about Will the whole time.

The only reason I'm ashamed to admit I like it is because it was written to pander to the masses. I am no better than the average NBC viewer in 2013. 😔

[vintagelacerosette]

Tag game catch up ✨

I was tagged by these magnificent sweet peas Macy @celestialmickey Evie @energievie Ling @lingy910y Laurel @lupeloto Deena @suzy-queued Vey @look-i-love-u Emmet @grossmickey Deanna @deedala Ajax @transmickey Cross @crossmydna Melodie @sirrudo Nosho @creepkinginc Jay @surviving-maybe Harvey @mikhailoisbaby Paola @mishervellous Sisi @sisitrip Donna @sleepyfacetoughguy Kat @milkmaidovich Lyds @ardent-fox Lemon @depressedstressedlemonzest Carolie @shinygalaxyperson Ri @tanktopgallavich Jade @jademickian Michelle @mmmichyyy Arrow @arrowflier Meagan @softmick @solaq Anna @rereadanon Julia @juliakayyy Cherry @too-schoolforcool

Thanks yall 🥰

This weeks Tag game Tuesday

Name: Shermyn

Whereabouts in the world are you? Sydneeeey

Do you have any pets? My Roxy pup

What do you do for work? DMV but we actually help y'all lol

Favourite fruit? Rock melon or as mericans like to say cantaloupe 🍈

A pet peeve of yours: Music or vid in public places like doctor waiting room or in trains

Are you a fast walker or a slow walker? As many have said, bc of short legs it looks fast, but I'm just tryna catch up 😅

How do you usually wear your hair? Down & flowing & I try to make it fun with hair bows or fun clips 💕

Sunny days or rainy days? Sunny days ☀️

What time do you usually go to bed? 11pm-1am

What time do you usually wake up? Sunrise clock is at 6am but I go back to sleep depending on how late i sleep lol so 7am-8am. 9am-10am on days off lol

if you were a cartoon character, what would be your everyday outfit? My birthday dress but in the cartoon my outfit is magic so it can turn whatever I want it to be depending on the occasion but keeping them colours 🩷🩵💜 for example if I needed a business outfit it would turn into a dashing 3 piece suit 💖

Something you'd like to learn: How to write fic & to crochet

and finally, tell me something that made you happy recently: All the birthday messages from y'all (thank you) & seeing my friends for my birthday 🎂💕

Last week's tag game Tuesday✨️

Name: Myn

Age: 27

Pronouns: she/they

Your sun sign, MBTI type, and enneagram type (google them if you’re not sure!): Leo, & Nines (ok screaming bc this was the first time i did thay & can i say accuracy wtf 😭)

How tall are you? 151cm/4"11 aka cute sized by

What colour are your eyes? Dark brown

The last time you saw a movie in theaters (bonus: what was it?): Barbie movie!! It was terrific & hilarious (if i did this one time the answer wouda been Birds of Prey haha great Margot films)

Favourite dessert: Love all dessert rn I'm craving for crepes 😋

Outer space or the ocean? Now I woulda said ocean before but just Good Omens season 2 means me want outta space 🚀

You’re in a McDonald’s drive thru, what are you ordering? 10 pack nugget meal with medium strawberry milkshake & sweet & sour sauce for the nugs

Are you good with plants? Probs not bought some basil & my dad ended up take care of it idk if they still alive 🥲

Would your current self and high school self get along? Sure but she'd berate me asking wth girl thought you'd be an animater 😅

A food you can’t stand:

Something you’d do if money were no object: Have an lavish retreat trip somewhere exciting to meet all the you amazing gallabitches in the fandom, where we can have fanfic writing sessions, craft sessions & even have a meet & greet with Cam & Noel. Oh my! Am I making a dashcon for gallavich? 😆

The last app you opened on your phone: Amazon prime bc of Good Omens s2

and finally, compliment yourself! You are incredibly resilient, creative & full of light. 💖

Picrew

Concert ABC

Five comfort characters

1. Mickey Milkovich from Shameless

2. Lacus Clyne from Gundam Seed

3. Kaylee Frye from Firefly

4. Wylan Hendricks from Shadow & Bone

5. Brooke Davis from One Tree Hill

List five songs that someone else introduced me to that have made their way into my regular rotation

Last line written of fic

“Ok! Small Gallaghers, it's time to get moving and into the car, or I'll be getting chatty kathy up my as again” A familiar voice cuts through the tender moment and causes Ian to shoot up like he’s been electrocuted with Liam still in his arms.

(Ngl i haven't touched my fics in forever 😅)

Fanfic trope tier list

[theroyalmisfitmess]

NHIE Farewell Season Reactions

Reactions were all typed real time as I was watching the show.

Ep. 1

- ohhhh they’re awkward

- Ben thinking Devi’s disappointed it’s him

- THEY’RE SO BAD AT COMMUNICATING

- I ONLY LOVE MY FAMILY AND MICHELLE OBAMAHDHDKSHDKS

- Ben looks constipated while working out

- “BUT YOU’RE STILL NOT DEVI” MCENROE PLSSDFJSKDJ

- loving nalini and devi’s relationship 🥺

- YASSS PAXTONNNN

- the go-gurt mention reminded me of laura marano and ross lynch (iykyk)

- noooo paxton not fitting in :((((((((((

- can’t take michael cimino seriously rn because of himyf

- PAINFUL PINING. PAINFUL PINING. PAINFUL PINING. OH NO DEVI’S FUTURE IS RUINED 😭

- where is aneesa tho?? :((

- dr. ryan scenes are the absolute best. i love seeing devi’s growth

- damn i’m loving these character growth moments. paxton not fitting in hits so hard and eleanor not being completely blinded by love is kinda refreshing

- NOOO NOT HER CAR

Ep. 2

- HSHAJDKDHD pati and nalini going all indian mom is always entertaining

- “This is about Ben? BEN GROSS?” NALINISHFKAKDHS

- FINALLY ANEESA IS BACK. girlie i miss you. i hate how they forgot about you.

- KAMALAAAAA (also nawt the teen hamilton auditions 😭)

- “Why tell me he’s white? I can see him!” 😭

- eleanor… pls be single for now it might do you good…

- UGH BENVI IS SO PINING FOR EACH OTHER YOU IDIOTS

- if i had a dollar every time victoria moroles played a main couple obstacle, id’d have two dollars—which isn’t a lot, but it’s funny (and sad) that it happened twice

- no but honestly, i appreciate how ben is setting boundaries. that’s correct. that’s right.

- YES DEVI STAND USE TO YOURSELF. i miss paxton’s crew lmao

- LMAO PAXTONHDJSKDHSKDHD teacher era let’s good

- ugh no michael cimino in his softness feely again but also pls devi don’t fix your shit with benjamin first

Okay. We’re back from the shackles of uni…

Ep. 3

- devi no… gosh please… fix your thing with ben first

- the line between paxton and devi is so clear now. i love paxton trying out new things.

- ugh i’m not liking thissss 😭

- awww paxton :(( i hope he finds what he wants to do again. i am not liking this super into parties thing

- THE BENVI SILENT TREATMENT IS SO PAINFULLL THE BANTERING PLS BRING IT BACKKK

- oh myyyy i kinda get nalini’s concern about the stairs and renovations tbh… when a home is LIVED IN it’s kinda hard to detach. not to mention,, it must remind her of mohan :((

- NAWWW ELEANOR SAWWW 😭

- NOT DEVI REFERENCING HERSELFHDKSJDKSJ

- OOO PAXTON AND THE SUB TEACHERRR

- devi pls stop this.

- OMG NOOO NOT BEN ACTUALLY HAVING THE IDEA 😭 but then again, i see the effort of trying to protect his feelings

- awww eleanor still loves trent (don’t rlly care for them but i loved that looking at the same moon thing)

- words cannot describe how much i love paxton. justice for paxton hall-yoshida.

- UGH why does michael cimino have to be a cutie??? i prefer him as a soft boi tho

Ep. 4

- NOOOOOO UGHHHH MY BENVI HEART IS CRYING

- oooo okay college fair devi you better not mess this up

- ms warner is NOT confident with devi HSHDJDH

- NOOO NOT FABIOLA’S MOM INTERVENING WITH HER FUTUREEEE

- succ-sexy is such a term lmao also wow the turn around from devi’s friends being so bad with advice to rightfully concerning is something i didn’t expect

- paxton and this sub teacher have CHEMISTRY + i feel so bad for him

- DESI SISTERHAHDJDHDJD

- BENHDJSKDHDKD YEAH SAME MCENROE I’M NERVOUS TOO

- okay ethan that was good on you but i still don’t trust him completely

- margot is such a sweetheart i just can’t hate her !!

- BEN’S SPEECHHFJSHDJAKDJ

- OH MY GOSHJFKSJDJD i’m getting feelings ben and devi being supportive friends has my heart UGH

- ETHAN. I HATE YOUUUU

- FINALLY. SHE DUMPED HIM AND DID THE RIGHT THING.

- “My best baby boy” TRENT YOU ARE PRECIOUSHAHDKDHD

- NOOOO IS LEN CHEATING ON PATI 🥺

- so i saw the script and devi doesn’t get in right? + FABIOLA’S GONNA GET IN INSTEAD OF DEVI IS SHE?? 😭

Ep. 5

- THE NEW YORK TRIPPPP

- yes mr shapiro. taylor swift is a great american writer.

- honestly true. fabiola should stop not prioritizing herself

- eleanor having an ego break is kinda hard and disheartening to watch

- oh so this is an ep where they find out that college isn’t what they thought it would be isn’t it :000

- awwww nalini is lonely :(((

- honestly why won’t ben just buy tickets for everyone he’s hella rich LMAOO

- THE PARTY SCENEGDJSHDKD OKAY I’M NOT READY

- nooo burnout :(( blair is so real so right

- AWWW PAXTON FOR WISDOM SCENE WE LOVE TO SEE (love daxton as friends)

- AWWWW BENNNN 🥺🥺🥺

- “Devi you know who you are” ONCE AGAIN. I AM TEAM BEN BECAUSE BEN IS TEAM DEVI.

- AWWWW AND DEVI BEING TEAM BEN MY HEART

- HE CALLED HER DAVID 🥺😭

- AWWW THEY MADE UPPP

- ok but the realization that canonically aaron tveit is still in moulin rouge at this point of the story is nice

- awwww nalini kinda finding love again

- devi and ben doing good again has my heart

Ep. 6

- EARLY DECISIONS DAY

- knew it. it was fabiola.

- FINALLY ANEESA IS BACK. also slay she got recruited !!

- CONGRATS BENNNN

- so len is cheating on pati???

- paxton is such an older brother now i can’t believe he and devi they dated HDKSJFKDJ

- THE PRINCETON SNAKEHDKSHDJD 😭😭😭

- OH MY GOSHFJDHDKD

- awww ben and margot are actually good together

- oh i think i spoke too soon

- OH. OH NO. UMMMM…

- but the way mcenroe is now narrating ben’s story as in-depth as devi’s means something… yeah i’m gonna be correct. benvi endgame

- PATI OWNING SHARES OF APPLE IS SENDING MEHAHDKDHDKD

- noooo fab and devi :(((

- i kinda understand why ben is like this. devi mssed him up fr fr 😭

- paxton talking about his dreams of becoming a scholarship swimmer, devi ruining it, but him still forgiving her :”))

- i am really loving paxton’s wise era !! he may be underutilized but i enjoy every scene he’s in

- okay but aneesa rlly just showing up once in this episode???

- AWWWW THE FRIENDSHIPS OF THIS EP

- ELEANOR IS GRADUATING EARLY?? woah okay slay

- “But do YOU think you’re good enough?” Y E S

- AWWWW SO SHE WANTS TO GO TO PRINCETON BC OF MOHAN 🥺😭 brb crying in the corner

- i could be wrong but the doctor looks like mrs. montez (gabriella’s mom from hsm)

- nalini and devi 🥺

- HER HEART IS STILL WITH BEN AAAAAA

Ep. 7

- OMG GIGI HADID IS BACK

- no bc paxton as a swim coach is a vibe

- DEVI BE NICER WITH YOUR PHRASES 😭😭😭 but i am loving the daxton friendship so much

- the identity crisis is so bad </3 i’m hoping paxton finds his way

- is paxton gonna end up dating lindsay/ms. thompson? i’m confused bc i read something about this

- “It’s okay if I fail as long as I tried” AWWWWW

- watching paxton be a coach is so endearing !!

- oof the lockeroom scene

- PAXTON IS SUCH AN OLDER BROTHER AT THIS POINT 😭 i promise this isn’t the benvi in me but their dynamic seems so platonic now

- SO THEY DID KISS OKAY OH MY GOSH

- paxton’s mom looks so close to his age 😭

- awwww the closure 🥹 i love closure moments

- PAXTON FEELING THE VIBES HAHDKSHDKD YEAH YOU TELL THEM (i am so gonna be right about benvi endgame)

- i wonder if paxton will go back to college :00

- AWWWW PAXTON YOU GO MAN

Okay. Will continue watching this tomorrow. I am a tired uni student first.

A night’s sleep, whole day of uni, and stressful cleaning later. WE’RE BACK!

Ep. 8

- OMG NOT MY BENVI PLOT IDEA ABOUT THEM TEXTING COMING TO LIFE

- THE ZOOM INS WITH NALINI ARE KILLING MEHAHAKDHDKD

- PROPERTY BROTHER LOOKING ASSHAHAHWKDHDJS

- oh nice devi is cool with it?!??? the maturity

- “You two are the best relationships I’ve had in high school” 🥺🥺🥺

- i can’t with this aneesa erasure though,, mindy did her so dirty 😭

- also where is manish

- JENNIFER COOLIDE CHARACTERHAKFHDJD

- AWWWW DEVI WANTING HER MOM TO BE HAPPY 🥺🥺🥺

- ben x trent subplot 👀👀👀

- OK MANISH MENTION

- WHATS THIS THING WITH LEN????

- ooof eleanor’s mom

- always a kitchen moment

- awwww devi being mature with her reaction about the texts even if it hurts 😭

- what if,, baby is len’s daughter 😭

- BEN AND TRENTGAGKDHDJSKS

- BEN HAVING A DREAM ABOUT DEVI??????SHAKDHSKSSJ

- TRENT PUSHING BEN TO GO AFTER DEVI WAS NOT ON MY BINGO CARD

- BEN????????? WHATS HAPPENING????????

- OKAY WOASHAKSHSHASJSHSJS SO CHAOTIC

- awww i love this vishwakumar bonding 🥹🫶

- i’d support a narrative about devi and margot just forgetting about ben lmao

- OH MY GODHAHDJSDHJS NALINI AND MARGOT’S DAD

- WHAT WHY IS DEVI BEING REJECTED????

Ep. 9

- noooo this is hitting me too hard i was in a devi situation where i only got in one college despite being a decorated overachieving student 😔

- okay everyone find a trent he honestly seems like the best hype man lol

- FAB IS GONNA GO TO HER DREAM SCHOOL THEREFORE OPENING A SLOT IN PRINCETON THAT WILL GO TO DEVI

- OMG NOT THE LIEEEEE

- “David? You okay?” BEN’S DELIVERY IS SO SOFT 🥺😩😭

- awwww devi offering to help ben has my heart 🥺

- devi and nalini’s moments hit homeeee i am emotional

- “I didn’t get into college. I didn’t get into anywhere.” 🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭

- PAXTON AND LINDSAY AAAAAAAA i ship it

- “Bevi, our best student, didn’t get into a single college” THEN BEN’S CONCERNED REACTION MY HEARTTTT

- okay fine maybe i do like trent and eleanor they’re the unhinged couple every sitcom has

- BEN’S WINDOW SCENEEEE

- ben asking how paxton went up through her window 😭

- the way my vision is coming to life i love winning i love being a pophet

- I AM TEAM BEN BECAUSE BEN IS TEAM DEVI !!

- “Maybe I was wrong, David” BUT DEVI ENDS UP SLEEPING

- OMG BEN STAYED OVERSHDOWHDKDHDOD

- “I thought he was one of your dolls” NALINIHSJSKDHD

Pause. About to do something.

Okay. We’re back…

- Dr. Ryan 🥺

- i love paxton finally knowing what he wants to do

- i’m crying at devi writing her essay about her dad 🥺😭 MY HEARTTTT

OKAY FOLKS. I DON’T THINK I’M READY JUST YET. GIVE ME A SECOND.

Okay. Here we go.

Ep. 10

- OMG ANEESA IS BACK

- OMG DEVI GOT INNNN

- AWWWW THE HUGGGG (and aneesa and fab’s reaction 👀)

- LAW FIRM WOW. okay ben i wish i were you.

- yeah end of nemesis era bc start of LOVERS ERA

- wait who was the valedictorian??

- OKAY DEVI WAS VALEDICTORIAN

- the grad videos felt like the cast not the characters 🥺

- also i love how paxton was there posing with them 🥺🥺🥺

- nalini not being ready to take off the thalli awwww

- devi and her friends trying to look for a common date go hang with her hs friend group is so me and my hs friends when we got to uni 😭

- CARFAXHAHDKSHDJ

- CAUSE THEY DON’T KNOW ABOUT THE NIGHT IN THE HOTELLLLLLL UGHHHH THE MODEL UN TRIP

- UGH BENVI IS SO ENDGAME

- awwww devi’s friends being at the wedding 🥺

- greeting guests (especially the pretentious family friends and relatives) is truly dreadful

- kamala being the older sister devi never had is something i always love seing

- THE UN AWWWW

- DEVI PLAYING UNCHAINED MELLDY FOR HER GRANDMA’S WEDDING OH I AM EMOTIONAL

- MOHAN APPEARANCE 🥺🥺🥺

- “I AM SO PROUD OF YOU” *sobs*

- OMG DEVI AND KAMALA DANCING I SUDDENLY REMEMBER THEIR ACTORS’ YT VID 🥹

- at the start of the series, devi could care less about her heritage but now here she is dancing

- awww paxton 🥺 i really love his character growth

- LI’L D 🥺🥹😭

- DAXTON FRIENDSHIP IS SO PRECIOUS

- NOT THEM PLAYING NEVER HAVE I EVER HOW META

- BEN OMGOMGOMG THIS IS REMINDING ME OF TATBILB’S ENDING

- HE FLEW ALL ACROSS THE COUNTRY FOR DEVI BITCHHHH

- I THINK I LOVE YOU DEVI

- I LOVE YOU TOO BEN

- OMGHALDHAKSJSJ ENDGAME ENDGAME ENDGAME

- NALINI’S HEALING 🥺🥺🥺

- OH MY GOSH BENVI IS SO THE VERY FIRST NIGHT CODED

- AHSKDHSKDHWKSHWLDIS OMGOMGOMG

- BUT FOR YOU I CAN TRY UGHHH

- benvi endgameeeee

- DEVI’S ONLY PETITION BEING FOR HER MOM 🥺 + I’LL SEE YOU AT PRINCETON FOR HER DAD 🥺

- UGH THE PERFECT ENDINGGG

Ended watch on June 09, 2023. 11:54 PM.

Separate overall thoughts soon.

[wintershieldedheart]

@thenightmareofyourdrems​      

      ˜”*°•.          It   was  becoming  more and  more  intense . The  confusion ,  the disorientation .  His  head aching .  Almost  like  hands  were  pushing  it from  every  direction . A  dream .  It  was just  a  dream . If  only  he  could  wake  up .  Find  something , a  wrong  detail in  the   otherwise flawless   puzzle .  But he  couldn’t .  Breathing turned  deeper ,  quicker , sight  blurred  -  his  whole world  was  spinning .  Digits gripping  firm  on  the  kitchen counter .  Water .  A glass  of  water would  bring  him back.  He  opened the  cupboard ,  but hands  were  shaking . Dream .  It’s  a dream ,  he  was dreaming .  But  what if  he  wasn’t ?

The  sound of  the  doorbell brought  him  back to  reality .  And while  a  part of  him  was relieved  that  someone  was coming ,  that  he wouldn’t  have  to do  this  alone, another  part  was scared .  Terrified .  Something  was wrong  with  him , he  knew  that it  was . Eyes  closed .  Just briefly  -  a  vain attempt to  kick  the  voice out   of  his head .  But  then , hand  was  on  the  door handle  -  opening it.  And  he  couldn’t  stop it .

❝ Margot  hey . ❞  An  attempt  at a  smile  - yet  it  was mostly  exhaustion  filling his  voice .   She  is your  friend ,  isn’t  she Stiles  ?  ❝ Pizza  money  ?  Yeah but  just  so you  know,  I am  choosing  the  trash  movie this  time. ❞  Door  opened wider for  her  to  walk  in . She  had  to leave .  she  really had  to  leave . Still  he  followed her  in ,  door closed  behind  him .   ❝ A  better offer ?  No  trust me.   The  other option  was  to study  physics  for  tomorrow and nope . Not  appealing  at  all . ❞  

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆  

☆        her chest ached with how normal he sounded. For a brief moment, she wondered if maybe they had it wrong, maybe her theory was shit and she needed to go back to the drawing board because how could Stiles be possessed by something dark and evil when he was talking to her the way he always did. However, exhaustion was clearly hanging over him, and Margot could see the nervous energy radiating off of him in a way that was abnormal, even for Stiles. Even if he wasn’t possessed, something was clearly wrong, and Margot had never once been good at leaving things alone when she thought someone she cared for might be hurting.

‘ what do you want on your pizza this time? I’m getting half with cheese and mushroom, ‘ she asked, giving him a slight smile. Letting out a breath, she reminded herself that she could do this. If something was really wrong, then Stiles needed help, and she’d be damned if she left her friend to suffer alone. Rolling her eyes, she laughed, ‘ alright, alright, you get to pick the trash movie. just please, not another 80s werewolf movie. ‘ Despite her claims, they had made her laugh, and whatever he chose, she’d happily watch. Stiles had yet to make her watch a film that she didn’t like.

taking off her shoes, she turned to him with a scrunched nose, ‘ ew. I hate physics, ‘ Margot retorted, ‘ gross. sounds like ‘m actually saving your night then, ‘ she teased. Math was undeniably her least favorite subject and the one she was the worst at. If it weren’t for Lydia’s notes, there was no way she’d have passed last semester or the current one. Margot called for pizza, making sure to get half with her order and half with his, as she made her way into the living room. She hung up just as she made her way to the couch, taking over half of it. ‘ pizza should be here in half an hour, ‘ she grinned.

catching his eye, Margot’s gaze softened as she spoke, ‘ you know I’m here, right? you can talk to me, ‘ she offered.

[anyalovesu]

tolerate it.

vii. if it's all in my head, tell me now.

— “not so strangely, the stranger knows where my hiding spots, my weak spots, and the spots in my body no one else knew about and i knew exactly where his were. he knew where to hit the walls to make it crumble, but he never tried to hitting it hard enough to break it. does he want me to break it for him? is he waiting for me to make a hole in the exact shape of him for him to actually try?”

“Madam Eli!” Kyle happily greets Eli as soon as she opens the door to her own home. The rest of them were in the dining table, and true to his word, Leon did kept Kyle out of the kitchen, making the first to notice that she was home.

Aside from the occasional updates over social media and yapping from Ynes, she has never heard from Kyle personally since her departure with them years ago. She thought that he’d have changed like her best friend did all those years, but oddly enough, he was still the same. He was probably taller in stature and looked more manly now than then but his aura exuded the same warmth as she recalls it. 

Eli could not help but smile at him. 

Leon saw it—the way she smiled at him so easily like it was a natural response to his bandmate. Ever since they were shoved inside of this house, he has never seen Eli smile that warmly at him. Eli never even looked at him unless she needed to. You could just tell that Eli couldn’t even stomach considering him even as a friend. Was she really that hurt?

“Eli!” Amir stood up from the dining table and followed Kyle, even opening his arms to offer a hug for Eli. 

Leon can’t tell if it was jealousy or just guilt. Maybe it was a mix of both. There was a heavy feeling on his chest when Eli accepted the hug and even asked him how he was, apologizing for how things turned out for Margot, Leon’s now ex-girlfriend. Amir responded to her the way he used to four years ago, with so much care as if he was his own little sister too. After all, they knew each other for that long for him to see her in that kind of light. Amir tells her it’s not her apology to make and it wasn’t an apology he is to accept either way and that there’s nothing she should be guilty of.

Amir knew the words to comfort Eli and Leon couldn't help but hate himself for not knowing what to say whenever Eli thought of things like that. It’s not like Eli told him about her thoughts either way. They were always away at work and Eli has been missing their dinners on purpose to avoid him. Maybe even more now than before, after he intruded in her work station last night.

“Akin na ‘yan.” 

Even with his urges to fight his friends for being better at him in making Eli feel comfortable, fighting them would only fuel that already burning fire of hatred Eli had for him. Instead, he tries to take Eli’s bags from her shoulder, along with her canister drawing tube. 

“It’s okay, kaya ko naman,” Eli responds to him, surprisingly, softly. She did not sound angry at all. Especially after what happened this morning during the food tasting, he expected that Eli would be fuming at him for pulling that kind of shit for the sake of convincing other people into their game — but she was calm.

“I know, hindi ko naman sinabi na hindi mo kaya.”

Eli seemed taken back by his response that she froze before she could stop them from taking it from her. Truth to be told, her bag was heavy as fuck with her gadgets and everything else in them but she already got used to the weight of it after years of carrying it around for the nature of her job. “Magbihis ka na sa taas, I’ll call you kapag okay na ang dinner.”

Everyone else looks at them in curiosity, seeing how they are able to stand each other for longer than 5 seconds without someone attempting to break the other’s neck.

“I’ll cook with Kuya,” Eli replies, tapping his shoulder. “Wala naman akong balak lasunin kayo.”

Leon smiles at her, fondly, for that matter. “Okay,” he says, before playfully poking her cheek. “Saan ito ilalagay?”

She responds by also playfully glaring at him for poking her cheek. “Sa atelier.”

“Okay lang na pumasok ako doon?”

Elijah thinks of it for a good while, thinking back to her and Ynes’ conversation earlier. Her works were great and Leon might just be the luckiest person in the world to inspire most of them. She always painted him the best colors that she had even after setting her aside just like that. 

There was a difference between letting everyone in her atelier and going inside the atelier. She wasn’t ready for him to see all the mess that came out from her heartbreaks and surges of emotions— but right now seemed the right time.

Eli nodded at him. “Isama mo sila Kuya Amir,” she smiled at him. Leon felt his heart skip a beat and then flutter. This is what it feels like when she feels at her best.

She smiled at him. For the first time since they got in here. It didn’t even feel real.

“Dalian mo na bago pa magbago ang isip ko,” she joked before pulling up her sleeves and walking over to Tobias, who is busy cutting up meat for their dinner. 

“Good mood ka,” Tobi chuckled at her, before handing her some of the cut up meat to marinate.

“Maybe,” she replied curtly. “Or baka may ibang tao lang kaya hindi s’ya nakakainis.”

“Galing n’yo kanina ha,” Tobi laughed, leaning against the marble counters to look at Eli properly. “If I didn’t know any better, iisipin ko na nagkakamabutihan na kayo.”

“Well, I’m not Soren Yang’s daughter for nothing.”

“But really, Ellie,” Tobi sighed, suddenly changing his tone. “What’s holding you back? Bakit ayaw n’yo pang pagusapan ‘yung nangyari?”

“It’s either there really is nothing to it, or hindi pa kami mature enough to talk about it,” Elijah responded truthfully while still avoiding Tobi’s gaze. It was obvious that Tobi was trying to get a decent answer from her, but what she said really was all she knew. She didn’t know. 

“You know, I tried naman to put up with your brother,” Eli continued. “But I don’t know him anymore. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells when we’re alone. I don’t know how to address things with him. Nasa point na ako minsan na naiisip ko kung magiging okay pa ba ang mga bagay sa kanya. Kasi minsan he’s nice and all, but there are times na parang hindi n’ya matiis ang presensya ko. He keeps saying shit that aggravates me and nakakafrustrate na s’ya, kuya. I can’t say na I haven’t tried. I’m just tired at this point.”

“Leon had a meltdown noong nagbreak sila ni Krizal,” Tobi started before going back to cutting up he meat. “Krizal kept on accusing him of cheating on her with you kahit na it was obvious na he already ditched you for her. Hindi ko alam kung ano pa ang gusto n’ya. But he wasn’t the same anymore after that. Hindi namin rin alam what triggered him to switch up like that, ‘yon ba ‘yung narealize n’ya na iniwan ka n’ya para sa taong hindi pala worth it o dahil iniwan s’ya ng taong ginawa n’ya ang lahat para lang na patunayan na mahal n’ya.

“Either way, Leon wasn’t the same anymore after that. He coped by dating people that were different from Krizal and the next one was different from the last one. The moment na ma-bring up ang pangalan mo, he would either detach and just wait for them to break up with him. Siguro nasanay nalang din kami na ganoon kaya natitiis na namin s’ya ngayon. Kaya if you’re thinking na ang hirap hirap n’yang intindihin ngayon dahil hindi na s’ya yung Leon na kilala mo noon, there’s nothing to worry about. Dumaan rin kami doon.

“I’m not saying na i-tolerate mo, ‘yon. We don’t tolerate him when he’s being an asshole. You’re doing a great job in ignoring him kapag nagtatanga-tangahan nanaman s’ya. I’m just saying na kung nahihirapan kang intindihin si Leon, valid ang feelings mo. Totoo ‘yon. Hindi na rin ganoon ka-open si Leon matapos n’yo mag-fall out. Ang hirap n’yang intindihin. Nagsasabi naman ‘yan dati sa amin ni Bia kapag may bumabagabag sa kan’ya. But ngayon hindi na.”

“He dated a literal psychotherapist,” Eli scoffed. “Wala ba s’yang natutunan about a thing or two sa pakikipagcommunicate?”

“Talent ni Mags ang intindihin ang hayop na ‘yan,” Tobi chuckled. “Maybe that’s why they worked out so well. Si Margot lang ang may pasensya na makipagusap sa kan’ya kapag magkakaganon s’ya. Margot was his only ex-girlfriend that was willing to listen to him to talk about kung gaano kahirap sa kan’ya ang iwan at noong pumayag ka lang na iwanan ka. Si tanga, kasalanan naman n’ya. Pero ayon, dahil nga si Mags lang ang babae na hindi ka brining up against kay Leon, siguro dahil doon kaya bakit ang sama sama ng loob n’ya. Si Mags lang ‘yung hindi takot na kuhanin mo si Leon sa kan’ya eh.”

“And I was the one who took him from her.”

“Hindi ikaw,” Tobi corrected. “Hindi naman ikaw ang may gusto. For all we know, inagaw ka lang rin kay Isaac. Isaac nga ano? Tama ba?” Elijah nodded. “Oh ‘di ba? Parehas lang kayong inipit dito. Lahat kayo, actually, inipit dito. It’s unfair, pero ano nga ba ang magagawa na’tin?

“But really, thank you.”

Elijah looked up at him from where she was massaging the meat into the sauce. “Bakit?”

“Niligtas mo ‘yung banda just as much as Margot did noong hindi mo tinakbuhan ‘yung deal. Ang dali kasing tumakbo nalang at taguan sila haanggang sa tigilan ka nila. But you stayed. Alam ko namang hindi ‘yon ang dahilan mo, pero salamat pa rin.”

Elijah could not help but feel tears in the corner of her eyes, remembering how much it hurt her to detach from the band. The thought of Tobias and possibly Amir as well, going through that same feeling hurt her more than she liked to admit. She would never want to wish that kind of heartache to anyone, especially to two of the most passionate musicians she’s ever met in her entire life—the very foundations of both the Loophole and the Midnight Covey.

“I’m always going to be Midnight Covey’s first fan,” she smiled at him, “Nothing is going to change that, Kuya.”

“Thank you,” he smiled at him. 

cont. to elijah and bianca's conversation (click here)

“Babes, you look alright,” Ynes sighed, pulling Elijah away from the mirror of their room. They’ve been with each other since dawn, opting to drive to Batangas before Leon so they’d have more time to prepare for the party in the venue.

“Hindi ba ako mukhang underdressed? Papa has a lot of business partners coming, I don’t wanna look unkempt—”

“Gusto mo ba mag-gown na? Maganda na nga sabi,” Jacynthe frustratingly helps Ynes with pulling Elijah away from the full-length mirror to sit her down for make-up. Honestly, though it would’ve been better to just hire a make-up artist, they just decided to let Jas have the pleasure to do the job. After all, Jas has been doing this for them long before there was something like this happening in their lives. Plus, Eli’s anxiety would’ve put her off by just the mere fact that she’ll have someone stare at her face for hours on end just to make her ‘prettier’.

“Okay, run down muna uli ng mga hindi n’yo pwedeng gawin,” Al announced, her iPad in her hand, seemingly having a list on her notes app just so they would be able to go through every single one of them.

Everyone but Jas, who is now busy matching lipstick shades for Eli, looked at Al attentively.

“Number one, bawal awayin si Leon,” Al sighed.

“Sayang,” Bella jokes, but still ended up getting a playful smack on the arm from Ynes.

“Please, in love dapat sila sa isa’t isa. Which brings us to number two, hindi p’wede i-mention si Isaac or si Margot Lee. Kung magawa n’yo man, isusungalngal ko ‘to sa ngalangala n’yo,” Al raises her pencil up to show exactly what she was talking about. “Please, don’t mention anything. Lagot tayo. Maraming businessmen, socialites and other elite families ang andito and we’re doomed if malaman nila na arranged ang lahat ng ‘to and the fairytale bullshit na finabricate nila ay hindi totoo. Also, my parents are going to be there. I think Jas’ parents are too, ‘yung kay Ynes sure na and’yan, and yung kay Bella probably won’t be there kasi her parents are in SoKor. So, unless gusto n’yong maging shitshow rin ito for the rest of us, ‘wag nalang natin imention.”

“Noted, Ma’am!” Jas chuckles.

It’s not hard to admit that all of them can get a little neurotic when it comes to things that mattered to them. This was especially important to Eli, considering that she will be the one presented later. Though she’s never felt more objectified to be offered to another family as a gift to prove their loyalty to building their collaborated project, it still felt like her responsibility to put up a good front for her family. After all, if the image suffers, everyone does and god forbid she wants to Cielo and Bianca to experience half the shit they are going through right now.

“Number three, last na to. Please don’t get shit-faced drunk,” Ally sighed. “God, ‘yung ginawa n’yo noong isang gabi—big no. Utang na loob. If you can help it, walang lalapit sa bar. Jacynthe, heavy on you, if you do end up hooking up with someone tonight, make sure you’re not going to end up pregnant and make sure you reach out to me to figure out an NDA if you end up boning with a filthy rich guy. Kasi those people with fuck you up and it’s not gonna end well. Bawasan na natin ng sakit ng ulo si Tita, okay? But that applies to everyone. Malaki na kayo. Do it safe. Eli, if you’ll be the one to do it with someone na hindi si Leon, which is unlikely based sa personality mo, please wag kang magpapahuli kasi lagot ka.”

“Noted po,” Elijah sighed, slumping back on her chair, letting her mind wander off to what happened last night.

“Isang kanta lang, Madam,” Kyle whined, already begging with the acoustic guitar in hand, for her to play just one song for tomorrow.

Truth was, Elijah wasn’t even sure if she could still play. The music room was there for a few reasons, some of them being she never thought she’d be the one living in there and she’s always wanted her kids to learn music one day. Because if her parents were against the thought of her pursuing music, she would never do that to her own children if she ended up having any.

But it was never there because she planned to play in a band ever again.

“Anong kanta?”

“Payag ka na?” Amir’s head whipped towards her direction from where he was sitting.

“Ano munang kanta?”

“Mahika,” Kyle cheekily grins in front of her. Mahika was one of the few songs that Elijah sang when she was still in the Loophole. It was probably the last song that had its clout in their underground band scene before Elijah left the band for good. Her singing in it and the band gaining a good amount of popularity from it was probably what ticked Soren Yang to force Elijah out of it because he was afraid she’ll pursue it instead of actually doing something that would be beneficial to the company.

Mahika was a song that she wrote on her own. It getting its own kind of short glory really makes her heart swell in happiness but that short glory, that miniscule chance that the band will be successful one day, was the very reason her happiness was taken away from her. It was a bittersweet relationship between her and that song. Most times she wished she never showed it to Leon so that it was never proposed to be played and recorded at all. She still would’ve been in the band.

“Okay lang?”

“Yeah, sure. Basta kapag pumutok ang ugat sa batok ng tatay ko, kasalanan n’yo.”

“Okay na, darling,” Jas smiled, poking a finger on her cheek to get her attention.

She was never one to toot her own horn but Jas’ work was beautiful. She genuinely felt beautiful enough to face the hundreds of people that their parents invited for the reason that the wedding would be much more intimate and strictly family and close friends-only in the guest list.

—

“Lamig pa rin ng kamay mo,” Leon chuckled as he held Eli’s hand in between both of his while they waited for the organizer’s call that the event was going to start and they were needed in the venue.. It’s only been two days since Leon started initiating things like holding hands and occasionally having his hand around her waist or shoulders. Normally Eli would’ve freaked out already, but for the sake of putting on a show, she’s already gotten used to it. Though she would still deny that there was some sort of comfort in holding his hand.

After all, most of their ill-history and personal differences aside, the both of them are on the losing side here. There was comfort in the fact whether or not they see each other eye to eye, they are in each other’s corner.

“Kinakabahan ka?” He asked gently, squeezing her hand to get her attention after noticing she was spaced out. He knew she was, but if there was something he learned from Margot, anticipation is where you are the most anxious and talking can distract you from it. Leon did not know if assurance would be the best thing that Eli would want right now, but it’s what he gave when he saw her respond with a nod. “It’s okay— Well, hindi s’ya okay. But I’m here. Alam kong lagi tayong magkaaway and magkasama tayo buong araw ngayon, kaya if you need something, just tell me. I’ll do my best to get it for you, okay?”

Eli didn’t know how to feel about that. Frankly, after everything that has been through, she didn’t know if she was strong enough to trust Leon like that again.

Why is he doing this?

How long is he going to be like this?

Those questions kept on bothering her every time he did something other than picking a fight.

She didn’t want to get used to something that was gonna go away in a few days or months or maybe even years. The thought of her being abandoned once again haunted her.

And if Leon, even after literally spending his entire life with her, once was able to quickly leave her for someone he wanted to pursue. He can do it again now that he already did it once. What weight does he hold on him now?

Probably not a lot.

Leon would leave the second he gets the chance.

Elijah would too… maybe.

“What’s on your mind?” Leon asks, pulling Elijah close to him and making her look at him by lifting her chin up.

Leon was astounded by how Elijah’s face stood so close to his. The distance gave him enough time to see how every curve, every beauty mark, the way her tired looking eyes fluttered, and even the way her lips were in a slight pout. It was all so beautiful to him, but also so new.

Maybe it was the light in the room. Or the nerves. Or something else. But he’s never seen Elijah look so beautiful before.

She looked divine.

He was sure she was Aphrodite in disguise at that very moment.

“I’m not sure,” she lies but the same fear from yesterday was bubbling in the pit of her stomach once again.

Leon went to move closer to the alluring sight in front of him…

and closer…

and closer…

As if the fear scurried away when he was just an inch away from her face, Elijah did not dare to step back and instead, and out of impulse moves closer to close the gap between their lips.

Leon did not hold back, hand moving from holding her hand to her waist to pull her impossibly closer while the other caresses her face ever so gently. While both of hers finds solace on the sides of both of his arms, feeling the soft fabric of his dress shirt, clinging on it as they relish on the wet feeling of their lips moving on each other like it has always supposed to belong to each other.

She could feel her thumping heart finally slowing down, letting her defenses down as she calms from the anxiety over everything that's about to happen.

Finally at rest, or so they thought.

“Ate?”

Both of them abruptly pull away from the kiss and turn to see Liz with an appalled expression on her face and Bianca in a panicked state trying to pull Liz away from the door.

“Shit.”

“Liz, let me explain,” Eli does not waste a moment, following Liz and Bianca towards the hall. “Annaliz!”

“Explain what, Ate? Na you’re already making out with someone in less than two weeks since your break up with kuya?” Liz spat with so much venom coating her words that Eli felt it taunting her for acting so recklessly. She then turns to Bianca, “Ikaw? Ano? Kaya ba isinama mo ako dito? Para ano? Ipagmalaki na nanalo na uli ang Kuya mo?”

“Liz…” Bianca looked nothing less than disappointed with how Liz was reacting to the situation. “How can you say that?”

“Anong how can you say that? I expected so much more sa inyo! I thought you hated this guy, Ate Ellie, tell me why the hell were you making out with him just now?”

Eli did not know what to say. This was all her fault. She shouldn't have kissed Leon. She shouldn’t have allowed her impulse to take over her.

God ang stupid talaga.

“Liz, calm down–”

“You know what,” she snatches her hand away from Bianca. “I can’t stay here. Ang sasama ng mga ugali n’yo. You and all your families are cruel and evil. It’s even worse to think now that I thought I was falling in love with you, Bianca.”

She then walks away before any of them could say something.

Elijah couldn’t think of anything else to do but fall to her knees and apologize to Bianca, who looked so distraught over what happened.

“Bia, I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, holding both of her hands as she stayed on her knees, begging for the younger girl’s forgiveness for ruining her just budding relationship with her ex’s little sister.

Both Bianca and Leon were trying to get her off her knees but Elijah remained unconsolable as she let out painful sobs.

“It’s not your fault, ate,” Bianca mumbles through her own tears as she helps her brother to get Elijah up

“I… I didn’t mean for it to end up that way— Gosh, ang tanga tanga. I’m so sorry.”

“Bia, look for Kuya Santi or si Ate Ynes,” Leon orders her, handing her a handkerchief to wipe her face first before dashing out of the building and into the event grounds.

“I’m sorry I kissed you,” Elijah whimpered against his shoulder as they stood there in the empty hall of the hotel they managed to rent for the entire event. “Nasira ko ‘yung relasyon ni Bia—”

“Hey, it was my fault too,” Leon sighs, rubbing soothing circles on her back. The entire situation was taunting him as well for causing so much distress on Elijah once again because he was just as reckless with his decisions. “I’m sorry you have to go through this, Eli.”

It was the first time he called her by that name since they got stuck together and it just slipped out of his mouth. As much as he knew it would be hard for Elijah to believe it, this was hurting him just as much. He was just as careless and the price to pay was his own little sister’s happiness for the actions that he did.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been the nicest person in the world,” he mumbles, choking on some words as he tries to hold back tears as well. He was never one to cry in front of anyone. But this is Eli. His Eli. Eli will never judge her for having emotions. For being hurt especially.

“I’m so sorry, I left you, Eli.”

“Are you really?” She asked, looking up to him.

It didn’t sound like she was mocking him. It sounded more like she was hopeful that it was true. Like she was hoping that the fall out maimed him too unlike what she had always thought.

“I am,” he replied softly as he stared at her glossed over eyes, breaking his own heart in the process. No one has looked this beautiful this close while crying. But he had to hold himself back from doing just what he did earlier. Instead he rests his forehead on hers and mumbles yet another apology.

God. If he is lying, please tell me now. Tell me I’m not wrong for believing him right now. Elijah’s thoughts ran in circles over and over until she might just pass out, but this wasn’t the right time. She had to fight against her ruminating thoughts, even just for tonight.

For the show.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ characters ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ previous ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ next ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

[chaotic-plotter]

@dreamerinsilico <3 sent me a lot of emojis and i'm going to answer them all. from this ask meme

✨What's a fic you've posted you wish you could breathe life into again and have people talking about it? (or simply a fic you wish got more credit)

is it cheating to say "any of them"? 😂

i haven't written all that many so there's not a lot to choose from. we'll go with "a lighthouse five hundred yards down". at the time, i never planned on writing it, but the idea hit me like a damn anvil one really stupid humid day in summer 2021 and i was haunted until i finally wrote it.

💫what is your favorite kind of comment/feedback?

the kind where people either tell me why something struck them or where they dive into language/images/etc. mostly because that's what i like to do when i read something (dive into language, images, etc) and also because, even though it's a super limited dataset, fic is the only place i can get random reader feedback (not writer feedback, i have critique partners). i come from throwing myself against (....and sliding on down) the glass hill of trad pub and had never actually gotten any kind of feedback/response from people who didn't know me or my writing before and it was really useful to see what people responded to, if they liked my style, etc.

💘Is there any posted fic you want to rework/re-edit/re-write?

funny enough.....yes? and also funny enough, i sort of get to? in a sense?

i started my long post-fall fic right after my first rewatch back in 2021 and i planned out the whole thing (yes it's still taking me 800 years to finish it, i apologize). but in reality, i sort of have a different outlook on will and hannibal post-s3 than i did at the time. and i'm really going to be rethinking the back half of that fic as i work towards finishing it.

so, essentially, yes, i wish i could rework those first 6 chapters (especially the first 2, wrt to writing style and tone especially!) to better fit whatever pivot i'm going to do in the last 4. i wouldn't change any of will's internal arc, i'm still happy with that, but there's plot stuff that i would.

🕯️was there a fic that was really hard on you to write, or took you to a place you didn't think it would take you?

not one that anyone can read, but i tried, thinking it would be darkly funny and maybe a good time (why i thought this is a mystery) to write about will post sex with margot. but writing about it in a "will has had sex that was Not Enjoyable but hey it was Sex With a Real Human Person and is reminded of his profound loneliness and has a little cry in the bathtub about it" way.

.......yeah i legitimately made myself upset with that one and had to stop. maybe i'll circle back around to it when i'm not so profoundly lonely.

🪄what is your post-writing/sharing aftercare? How do you take care of yourself or celebrate yourself when you've finished a fic?

i don't have any writing aftercare 😛 i probably should though

mostly i just take a couple of days off from writing after i finish something. idk, does checking your email hoping someone comments count as aftercare? i'm afraid i'm a terrible obsessive and putting things down is not my greatest skill, even if i am exhausted and glad to be done with actively working on them.

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

hmmmmmm. well.

the next wip i actually have on the docket is a s1 nudist will au. i'm excited to jump back into hannibal's headspace after being outside of it for so long. he's absolutely insufferable and i can't wait to go full goose menace on everyone in the story (until it turns back on me and he never shuts up 😛)

and then, well, i've got another one-shot challenge after that, which is all about stretching muscles i rarely stretch 😏. i'm still deciding if i want to run a poll about it or if it should be a complete surprise

send me more asks if you like! i love these emoji meme post things

[controlledchaosetc]

Watching First Kill w/ my partner

We're at Episode 5 rn and tl;dr off the bat, we're enjoying it for all the wrong reasons. Here's some notes, thoughts, and other things we did while watching

EP. 1:

The Zombie Song plays in the intro and my partner has an IMMEDIATE VISCERAL reaction like a flashbang has just gone off and doesn't recover until the first episode ended

16 FUCKING SONGS IN ONE 40 MINUTE EPISODE

Sound mixing is Not Good, whoever did audio mixing dropped the ball so hard

Invest more in your production and editing than in your licensing budget LMAO

Ben is the best character so far, the balls it takes to A. go get your man and B. turn that bottle right at Cal

Elinor is also great I love this evil bitch

EP. 2-4:

Thankfully episode 1 was the worst one

LESS SONGS THIS TIME POG

Please play more than the same Subnautica Lost River theme song over and over again though pls

Editing is ATROCIOUS, the ordering of scenes is just WRONG sometimes, this is a masterclass in truly terrible editing

This show gets better as it goes on bc the side characters get so much more enjoyable

Cal and Juliette's whole THING just isn't working right now, they act the same in almost every scene and other than dry humping in the woods, the chemistry just isn't really there

HOWEVER

I want Cal's mom and Juliette's mom to make out more than I want Cal and Juliette, these women can GET IT

The only thing that changes that is Margot and Sebastian are actually adorable and I love this straight romance more than the gay one the show's about which NEVER happens

Margot is the best character hands down and has the only genuinely REALLY good scene in the show telling Juliette it's ok that she didn't kill (which was actually surprising and nice to see) and talking about how her family hates her for doing what she wanted, not what was expected of her

Elinor and Oliver are duking it out for who can chew the scene more and I'm living for it, definitely tied for 2nd fav

Evil grandma lets go

Apollo and Theseus suck their dick measuring contest is a snooze fest and their characters flip back and forth between respecting and hating each other faster than I can skip through their scenes LMAO

In total, we count 6 cringes, but the total is 5 to subtract the one really good scene with Margot

BONUS ROUND: BETS

We made bets with each other before starting 2-4 and here's the results of them

VIC BETS (my bets for them that they'll viscerally react to)

the zombie song will play again and flashbang them yet again Was IMMEDIATELY proven correct and happened for every episode

a song from 2008 not yet but hopefully

late 2000s reference unfortunately no but I want it

bad audio this was a given lmao

(their bets for them)

anime reference no but there's still hope

teen wolf reference this whole show feels a bit but no direct reference yet

the song flesh by simon curtis will play ODDLY specific but no

tumblr joke please give this to me show

Bets for Me!

witch (good) it was and she's hot and that ring was metal as fuck

world building bad (annoyed) surprisingly not too annoyed

editing bad (screaming) oh I had a whole rant

hunters are used badly other than theo and apollo not too bad, but the fact they're less functional than the vampire family is great

[outerbankies]

new light blurb: tongue tied — rafe cameron

new light series masterlist

summary: back in the obx for the first time since you left for college, you run into the one friend you missed more than you care to admit.

warnings: alc and weed and swearing

a/n: aka kelce’s first thanksgiving eve party so takes place their freshman year of college. pic from kelce’s story lol

From part 1: “Or the first time you saw him since moving away, when Kelce had thrown a Thanksgiving Eve rager. You almost hadn’t recognized Rafe in the smoke filled house, but he had moved to you eagerly like he’d been waiting for you all night.

And now you realize, he probably had.”

&

From part 2: “My worst fear was that you’d come home with some college boyfriend I couldn’t compete with,” he admits. “I was nervous as fuck the first time we were all back here for the holidays. And then I saw you at that party and I just thought: 'alright, still got it bad.’”

—

“C‘mon, guys. Kelce really wanted us to come.”

“But,” your friend, Margot, groans. “I just don’t understand why we can’t go drink rosé in Gretchen’s basement.”

“Becauuuse,” Gretchen sing-songs. “All of our friends are going to be here tonight. And I miss partying in Figure 8.”

Margot laughs at that. “That’s actually kinda sad, Gretch.”

“Yeah, well,” she sighs. “That’s what happens when you go to a liberal arts school in Vermont.”

“Okay,” Margot concedes. “But I need about three shots right when we get in if I have to see people from high school tonight. Kelce probably splurged on booze, yeah?”

“Of course he did. I’m so excited to see everyone,” you say quietly, your smile just to yourself as you continue the walk up Kelce’s driveway. It’s already packed, the three of you arriving late as you always did, even in high school. Old habits die hard.

You hear Margot giggle when Gretchen murmurs something at your last comment, and shoot them both a weird look. But they just shrug as the three of you finally make your way into the house, the two girls hanging tightly on either of your arms.

Margot made good on her proclamation, Gretchen following her to the kitchen as soon as you’re inside.

You’re caught up waving to people, Griffin’s hug lasting a little too long, lost in the crowd to the point where your friends don’t wait for you to follow anymore.

You finally make your way to the kitchen after a while, already feeling dazed and a little tipsy after taking a couple of jello shots with some old classmates. You’re caught up in surveying the expansive kitchen packed with people you haven’t seen in months, trying to spot Gretchen’s pink dress.

“Hey, California.”

Rafe Cameron is leaned up against the counter by the fridge, arms crossed over his chest. That same self-assured smile that you pretended to never notice still on his face, looking comfortable as ever, like he owns the place. Until you meet his gaze and he’s immediately pushing off the counter, making his way toward you. He stops at the fridge on his way, pointing at you across the way. “Drink?”

“Please.”

Some stubborn strands of hair had fallen out of his usual gel—or maybe he was using less, you wonder. He pushes them back as he opens the fridge, only surveying its contents for a split second before immediately going for a bottle of wine on the top shelf.

He turns and kicks the fridge door shut, presenting it to you. “Kelce got this for you.”

“Lemme see,” you say, holding your hands out for it while Rafe grabs a red cup off of stack on top of the fridge, his t-shirt riding up just so on his stomach. You blink and look away immediately—god, you were so not used to being around him anymore—going back to studying the label. “Wow, he has good taste.”

“I have good taste,” Rafe corrects, cutting the foil off for you with one of his keys. “He made me nab it from my dad’s cellar.”

“Oh, so Ward has good taste. That was nice of you though,” you grin. Your heart seizes momentarily in your chest when Rafe suddenly leans closer to you, arm outstretched to rest his hand on the counter behind you. Up close like this you notice the subtle changes, but more importantly, all the ways he’d stayed the same. Comfort and thrill all wrapped into one high school crush that you’re beginning to think will never truly die. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he smiles, leaning back, displaying the corkscrew he has in hand, nabbed from the counter behind you. “How’s school? When’d you get home?”

“Good. Late last night,” you sigh, collecting your thoughts. “So I’m tired, but. Time difference helps.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Rafe says, handing you a red solo cup full of wine. He glances at his watch. “It’s only, what, seven for you right now, huh?”

“Yeah,” you smile, taking a sip of your drink, trying to remind yourself that everybody calculates time zones that easily—it doesn’t mean anything.

“Do you like it all the way out there?” Rafe wonders.

“I do. It’s different, but nice.”

“I see that on you. Whole California vibe,” he says, causing you to quirk a brow. Rafe smiles. “You know, vegan hippies who love astrology and whatever.”

“Ha, ha,” you say sarcastically. “Spoken like a true scorpio.”

“But hey,” Rafe says, voice going a little softer. You have to lean in a little closer to hear him properly. “That’s awesome. I’m glad you like it. You worked hard—I told you that you could do it.”

“Yeah,” you say, your eyes scanning his face. “You did.”

Your mind briefly wanders back to college applications season, exactly a year ago from now. You’d been stressed to the point of tears at one point—overwhelmed by the pressure you put on yourself to carve out a new path, away from the Outer Banks and away from where your parents expected you go to college. And your friend Rafe had been right there for you, to assure you that it’d all be fine—and he was right.

“But what about you? Did you rush?” you ask, changing the subject. “Oh, wait. Let me guess.”

“Ha, ha,” Rafe repeats. “I’m guessing you didn’t?”

You wrinkle your nose. “Not really my thing. But I love that for you.”

“Hold on, not your thing? You have to be a legacy,” Rafe says.

You shrug. “Figured I already pissed my parents off enough by not going up north, might as well fully send it.”

Rafe watches you for a second, his eyes shiny, from the liquor, you have to assume. “You’re trouble. C’mere.”

You set your wine on the counter as he pulls you into a quick hug, the sounds of the party momentarily quieting to a dull buzz as you’re pressed into his chest.

“Did you miss home?” you ask, pulling back after a second. His left hand lingers as he leans away from you again, dragging from the small of your back and across your hip until his touch is gone from you.

Rafe scans your features, bringing his own beer back to his lips. “Some of it. Definitely.”

“Y/n/n! You made it!”

Kelce is pulling you into a bone-crushing hug as he comes up behind you, Rafe moving your drink further away from you so it doesn’t spill. You giggle while Kelce presses aggressive kisses into your hair and on your cheek, quickly realizing how drunk he already is.

“Kelce,” you smile. “I missed you.”

“Missed you,” he says, glancing at your empty hands. “I’m a terrible host. Where’s your drink?”

“Oh,” you say, twisting around to pick it up and show him. “Rafe already got me one.”

“I’m sure he did,” Kelce says.

“I mean—it’s my wine, technically,” Rafe fumbles. You just smile obliviously at them both.

“How’s school treating you?”

The three of you catch up, taking turns exchanging horror stories about move-in, first nights out, required eight AM lectures. You can’t help the way your eyes trail over Rafe’s face as he tells you about pledging his fraternity, or the way his eyes twinkle under the harsh kitchen lights, the shirt you don’t recognize pulled tightly over his shoulders. You might get a little carried away, jolting when Kelce’s fingers suddenly dig into your ribs.

“Hey. I asked you a question.”

“Sorry, what?” you laugh, pushing away his hands where he keeps jabbing them into your stomach and taking a large gulp of your drink.

He smirks, eyes flickering to Rafe, then back to you once his friend breaks eye contract. “I was just wondering if you managed to find some uppity new boyfriend out at school yet.”

“Ah,” you sigh, that thought the furthest from your mind. “No, Kelce. C’mon, you’d know.”

Just then, Margot and Gretchen call you over from the other side of the kitchen, more jell-o shots in their hands. You turn back to Rafe and Kelce, giving them both a smile. “Duty calls. Nice to see you guys. Hit me up before we leave?”

“Yeah,” Rafe nods, while Kelce just watches the two of you. You give them both a two finger salute before heading off, knowing you’re gonna need more than a few jell-o shots to shake the feelings you were having about an old friend.

—

“Could you have been any more fucking obvious?” Rafe says, harshly nudging Kelce’s shoulder once you’re out of sight.

“What? You wanted to know. Now you know,” Kelce rolls his eyes. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“I was just curious,” Rafe sighs, exasperated. “Jesus. Now she’s gonna think I want to—”

Kelce narrows his eyes. “Don’t you?”

“That doesn’t—we don’t—it doesn’t matter,” Rafe stutters. But he doesn’t say ‘no.’

“I promise, dude. She’s not gonna suspect that,” Kelce sighs, putting your bottle of wine back in the fridge. “Y/n is seriously the only person I know who’s more oblivious than you.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

“You don’t think… no. She has to know I had a crush on her, right?”

“Highly doubt it,” Kelce says, considering it for a second. “Highly.”

“There’s no way. I was… there’s no way,” Rafe says. “Could you ask her?

“You could ask her. Take her out or something,” Kelce shrugs. Rafe just rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, maybe in a million years.”

“Nah,” Kelce says, downing the rest of his drink, patting his pockets for a lighter. “I give it, like, three. Four max? I mean, it’s Y/n/n. She’ll have to have found someone else by—”

“Will you shut the fuck—”

“Three what?” Topper says, coming up to join the two of them, eyes alight when Kelce pulls a joint from behind his ear.

“Three years until Rafe and Y/n get their shit together.”

“Ah,” Topper says. “Yeah. Three’s a good guess. Cause it’s gonna have to be her. Rafe’ll never do it.”

Rafe flips him off then plucks the joint out of Kelce’s hand harshly, lighting it himself and taking a long drag.

Rafe never expected his feelings for you to completely evaporate once the two of you left town for school. He didn’t even consider that physically possible.

He knew that no matter what he told his friends, his “crush” on you had at some point evolved into a feeling he’d never felt before—and wasn’t sure he’d ever feel again. But still, if seeing you again didn’t nearly knock him completely off-kilter, like he should’ve anticipated but didn’t.

You didn’t look completely the same, not if he paid close attention. Which he did. Your shoulders were pressed back a bit further, your smiles were a bit less timid—not for him though. Never for him.

But you were still you, and he could never get enough. Would never get enough, ever.

He sees you from across the way, and you duck your head as soon as he makes eye contact, turning back to Margot and Gretchen.

Rafe shakes his head, passing the joint off and exhaling a plume of smoke. “It’s never gonna happen.”

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

june 11, 2021 2:00 p.m. newcrest counseling center

grant arrives promptly as always for his biweekly therapy session with margot campalans but when he checks in with the receptionist, she lets him know margot will be a few minutes late. something about mistakenly locking herself out of her car while picking up coffee. he’s allowed into the room early to wait–margot’s instructions, apparently–and is left to his own devices. so he sits there in the lavender-scented room alone, pondering on all the thoughts swirling in his head and deciding which ones to bring up in today’s session.

when thinking begins to stress him out, he fishes out his phone and scrolls through his notifications idly. he makes it to the end and once again, the now ancient email from his master’s advisor waits for a reply or any hint of care in the world. he sees it and immediately, a cold sweat breaks out across his forehead.

without a second though, grant opens up a safari tab and navigates to his university’s website. it takes a few moments to load, then a few longer when he tries to log in, anxiously mistyping his password multiple times. nothing about the website is well-designed but he manages to find his enrollment status soon enough and he submits a request to drop out.

the very moment it goes through, grant sighs in deep, instant relief.

it was a mistake to apply, no matter how convinced of it he’d been a few months ago.

grad school isn’t him. no, it’s not. all he wants is–

“hello grant! i am so sorry. today’s lesson for everyone is to always check on your car keys!”

margot dashes into the room with a half-empty iced coffee, announced by the jingle of car keys, sharp high heel clicks on the hardwood floor, and a bit of breathlessness.

“been there done that. but don’t worry about it, it’s no problem! you’re not that late anyway. i hope you weren’t locked out for very long.”

“oh no, not very long!” she says and shakes her head, pausing to throw her purse behind her desk and then to take a seat across from him in her pink chair. “there was a very nice young man leaving the coffee shop who saw that i looked, well, panicked. he said he worked at the photography studio next door and was on break, so he offered to help me. as it turns out, some types of car locks can be undone with a shoe lace. my question is how do you learn that skill.”

grant’s jaw drops. “wait, wait, a guy who can unlock a car with a shoe lace and works at a photography studio? there is a 99.99% chance i know him. no, actually, i definitely know him because that’s a very specific set of traits.”

“he said his name was henry.”

“knew it.” grant suddenly laughs. “yeah, no, so he’s my childhood best friend. we grew up together and we’re basically family. small world, eh? anyway, i know how he knows about that trick because i also know. it’s a long story, though.”

[witchthewriter]

Hi! I'm here for the open ships! My pronouns are she/her, and I am bisexual! A bit about my personality would be that while I can act very serious, or get angry quite easily, I can also act a lot like a child and I love to talk to people about the things I'm passionate about, whether that be a hobby, a book, a character, or something they're doing! Probably my biggest hobby is writing, and I love to get warped into worlds of my creation, and I also love to pick out different outfits, especially for summer, I also love roller and ice skating and talking with friends! Whether that be texting, talking, or running through a mall with them and going through random shops for fun! A few things I dislike would probably be loud cafes, not being left alone, and people constantly badgering me about the same thing or people just using me.

Fandoms I am doing this for:

A Court Of Thorns and Rose, Grishaverse, and Stranger Things (or Harry Potter if you don't know what to do for ST)

Want to be shipped? Here be the instructions 🦋

Thank you so so so much for participating!!! You sound like such a fun girlie <3 Wish we could be friends irl; also I would love to talk about books and characters WHENEVER YOU WANT pls I love talking about books

What each ship has in common:

⋆ Charismatic  ⋆ Independent ⋆ Kind-hearted ⋆ Badass ⋆ Surprising 

𝐀 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I ship you with Mor! (My fancast for her is Margot Robbie). I think she would really suit your playful yet sometimes introverted personality. You would definitely feel safe with Mor, as well as loved and cared for. She would absolutely spoil you rotten.

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・She would take you out to the best restaurants, the finest boutiques and gift you the most exquisite jewellery. 

・Meeting the Inner Circle and Cassian bounding over and squishing you into a bear hug. I think Cassian would definitely be one of your closest friends. The absolute mayhem you would cause – all Mor can do is laugh. 

・Slow dancing when dinner is cooking; she holds you close and rests her forehead against yours. 

・Getting dressed together and picking out each other’s outfits

・Mor has the BEST clothes too. Like imagine a walk-in wardrobe but bigger. It was literally a shock to see. 

𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I ship you with Genya!!! Similarly to Mor you guys would bond through friendship then the feelings would morph into romance. You were hesitant about her at first, but that was due to the rumours at the Little Palace. Genya actually turned out to be a wonderful person.

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・You guys would have so so so much fun with her tailoring abilities. Changing up your appearance but also doing it to mess with people

・Defending her against anyone/everyone. She gets a lot of nasty looks, and even then you’ll ask what their problem is.

・She loves your company; even before getting together, she would seek you out. You were her solace. A safe place in a scary home. 

・Genya didn’t want to be with you at first - only because she thought you would be shunned as well. She didn’t want your life to get harder just because of her. 

・Picking flowers for her in the morning and placing them behind her ear

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I ship you with Steve Harrington! I think you two would be the ultimate couple <3 Everyone would want to have the type of relationship that you guys have. It’s pretty iconic. He would mesh well with how you like to be social, but never push you to go anywhere you don’t want to. Honestly, Steve is a gentleman and has grown a lot since high school.

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・LOVES going skating with you. He’s like a baby giraffe and cannot stand up without your help but you guys have so much fun. It’s so funny to watch too –    

“Y/N! Y/N I’m going to fall!! Why is this so difficult!!! Y/N!!!!”

・Dustin LOVES YOU, he probably has a crush on you tbh. But he thinks you and Steve are really good together. It gives him hope for his future. 

・El and Max coming to you for advice; you being like their cool older sister who does their make up and hair. I can totally see you apart of the mall sequence where your running into every shop and trying things on

・Steve spends a LOT of time at your house. Your parents absolutely love him, and they were shocked at how respectful he was. So they feel comfortable with him being in your room

・He would love to spoil you, I mean he doesn’t have that much money and you tell him to save it instead. But he can’t help it, so you told him to get creative with his gifts. And he started giving you like homemade jewellery, he learned to bake etc., 

[ay0nha]

The Race That Launched a Thousand Ships: Part 2/?

 (Working) Summary:  Niki Lauda, the rookie starting his career requests the help of a mechanic, Margot Lancaster who has a buried past that he’s seemed to uncovered. (This is crap I know)

Pairing: Niki Lauda x femme!OC (mechanic)

Word Count: ~5.3K

A/N: I’m going to loosely base the timeline off of the movie, but it’s more inspired if anything. I’m touching on Margot’s background (hope it’s not confusing) but it’ll be explained better/fully next chapter. Thank you to google translate for the Italian and google for things about cars. I think this whole thing was better in my head, but it’s setting up some good stuff! So stick around if you’d like :) And most importantly, thank you to all of those who read and enjoyed the last part!  

I’ve also made a playlist that I listen to while I write this, so if anyone is interested hit me up. (I used talking head lyrics in this one lol) and I’m still figuring out tumblr, so if you want to be tagged, let me know.

Inspired by @niki-fucking-lauda​‘s post (it’s cute, check it out!)

 Master-list 

Part 1  Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

–

"I thought you had forgotten about me."

"I had some business to attend," Niki stated in a matter-of-fact manner.

"Races..." I corrected him, as I joined him at the break-room table, "Admit it, you missed me."

"These are the terms," Niki ignored my teasing, instead sliding the package of papers towards me. They were secure in a yellow envelope, but anyone could see that there was a thick stack of papers within.

"You really don't know how to take no for an answer," I laughed lightly. He kept his hands neatly folded in his lap, waiting for me to open the envelope and view the papers. I reached to feel the heft of it, then leaned forward to bring it towards me. However, before I actually opened it, I made sure to say, "Don't get excited, I'm only looking."

Niki had been in London for just shy of three months, but hadn't once stopped by.  I knew he was interested in moving onto bigger and better things so I didn't think I would hear from him after I had declined his offer, but that was just wishful thinking.

He was determined to pester me, no matter the form of communication. He had started to call me after a handful of his races. He wasn't looking for praise, but for me to point of his flaws. Then, not soon after, it was more than just the occasional call about a race, it turned into an almost daily occurrence. Inbetween races, he wanted to know more. He wanted to know how I would increase traction while driving on a wet track, what I knew about said tracks, or simply start with if I had any interesting cars in the shop lately. However, he was more interested in telling me how I could find more interesting cars if I had joined him.

Niki had called so frequently the others in the shop started to call it the Lauda Line. It didn't matter if I was neck-deep in work or the time of day, once that double alteration was yelled I knew I had to drop everything to answer it.  At first, I ignored it, not caring how much it rang. But I couldn't ignore the calls for too long, not for a lack of trying, but because the rest of the ship, my boss especially, didn't appreciate the constant interruption. Niki was a persistent man and he wanted it known. His tenacity led to where we were now, sitting across each other in the cramped storage closet that was more or less used as a sort of break room. Why he was still in London was beyond me, when I knew he had more pressing matters elsewhere in Europe.

"You're Formula 1 now?" I questioned, as I flipped through the first few pages where it said he was newly signed to the BRM Formula One team. I couldn't help but think about the retro-pay I deserved.

"I am."

"You move fast."

"In my line of work, that's the only way you can."

"Funny," I snapped my eyes up at him so he knew I wasn't humored. Skimming through the conditions, it was nothing less than expected. It was standard. Standard pay, standard living stipends, standard expectations of a mechanic, some added benefits that came with attending races, conferences, and, of course, the parties. It was comical the way the papers hinted at certain liabilities, "Pen?"

He looked at me dumbfounded, surprised by my simple compliance. By the look on his face, I could tell he expected more of a fight. After composing himself, he pulled a pen out of his blazer and handed it to me. Then, skipping to the last page of the agreement, not bothering to review the ridiculous regulations, I wrote on the dotted line. Turning it back to the first page, I gathered the papers and tapped them against the table making sure they were in line before sliding them back to Niki the same way he had for me. He tried not to seem too eager as he went to the final page to see my signature for himself. I watched his eyes search the page, running down until it landed at the bottom.

"What is your issue!" He asked, truly at his wit's end. He clearly was not expecting to see the letters N and O written boldly and underlined instead of my name, "I am doing you the favor."

"And what favor is that? Hmm?" I questioned, snatching the papers up to wave them in his face, "All you're trying to do is poach me. There is nothing in this for me."

He blinked a few times in frustration, then handed me the pen and paper again, "Fix it."

"What?"

"Make them your terms," He used his chin to gesture to the papers, "Isn't that what you want?"

I thought I finally had him, the final straw to get him off my back, but he was too far committed to let me go that easily. My leg was bouncing up and down impatient to leave, but then the pen found it's way back into my hand and I had already begun the correction process. As I did, I mentioned, "I won't go to the races."

"Fine."

"I mean it," I looked up at him for all intents and purposes.

"As do I."

"Hmm..." I concentrated now on the fine print of things. I refused to have a 'clause' be my demise, "and I won't watch them either, won't listen to them, and won't even read about them until I hear about it directly from you."

The lack of response matched the confusion on his face, "What do you mean?"

"You find me wherever I am after the race and tell me, to my face, how it went. I want it from the source," I emphasized my point to make sure he understood the seriousness in my words.

"Done," He agreed with a simple shrug.

"However," I scratched out an entire section, the pen's ink now fully covering the page, "I want to see the tracks beforehand."

"I can arrange that."

"Now, I would work for you. The same way you would work for me. You and me, we'd be a team. Fifty-fifty. You do whatever you want to do and I will do the same. I won't sign to a team, a sponsor, or any of that nonsense, that's your business," I said intently, before repeating myself to make sure I was as clear as I possibly could be, "But you and me, we're a team."

"You would still be working with the team."

"With the team, not for the team," I emphasized, writing that down as it's own bullet point. Then I went ahead and tore out the final few pages that concerned the pit crew and race regulations. 

Taking a few minutes, I finetooth combed through every page before I felt content enough to finally push it back to Niki.

"Now, if I were to agree, this is what would be more acceptable." I glanced up at the clock, my fifteen-minute break over, "Read over this, find me after work, and we'll talk more about it."

"You're setting me up for failure," He said knowingly, standing up, "I'll arrive and you will just tell me no. How do I know I'm not wasting more time?"

"Always the optimist," I stood,  following suit as he held open the door.

"Realist."

"I'm a tease, but that would just be cruel," I smiled and shook my head, "I get off at 5."

As punctual as any Austrian, Niki had met me fifteen minutes before the end of my shift, not daring to waste any time to finish our discussion. I gathered my things while he waited for me leaning against his car.

He looked like he wanted to get to the point, but I cut him off before he could, "Take me to the track, I want to show you something."

For a driver, he was being incredibly patient, not something I thought I'd encounter. I wanted to make my decision at the track and he seemed to understand that. Arriving, it felt strange to be there without the natural chaos that came with an actual race. There were a few people here and there walking about, most likely on their way out for the day, leaving the perfect opportunity for Niki to do what I wanted him to do. Before I could have the conversation I was to have with him, I needed to see him drive naturally. I wanted to see him in his car without the adrenaline, pressure, or influence of a title looming over his head. I just wanted to see him drive.

"Go again," I yelled over the hum of his engine as he slowed down next to me.

Niki only stared me down through his helmet and held up his hands in disbelief before his muffled voice said, "I have already gone around ten times!"

If I was being honest, I lost count of how many times I asked him to go around the track. It had to be more than ten, but I could tell Niki was trying to keep his cool, continue to be patient with me. Yet, his desire to indulge me was wearing thinner and thinner with each lap.

"Again," I patted the car, "Last one, I promise."

Instead of immediately running the lap again, he pulled off his helmet and pulled up the balaclava from around his head just enough to say, "That's what you said the last time."

I tried to assure him, "I'm serious this time. Last one."

He pulled the cloth and helmet down over his face again, not without sending me a slight glare. Then he shifted into the correct gear and sped off once again. This time though, he was getting careless, wanting it to be over. That twenty percent chance speech he had given me going up a few percentages. The only thing standing between him and the metaphorical finish line was me. He was fed up and I could see that as he drove a little less calculated than he had been. 

I hadn't expected it, but I was starting to get stage fright. When it had first happened to me it was more of an initiation ritual that I didn't see coming. So to be the person who knew what was going to happen made my heart beat a little faster with each shaky step I took onto the asphalt. I made sure that he was at the farthest point from me, the point where he wouldn't be able to see my new position.  I remember the first time I was in Niki's position. I was cocky, a know-it-all, that thought running pointless laps was a waste of time. So with each one, I challenged myself to go faster and faster each lap around until I was force braked so hard I spun out of control and gave myself a concussion.

So now, on the other end, I started to question my position. If I stood he would see me the moment he hit the apex of the turn, if I sat it would take him only a second longer, but if I laid down...Taking in a deep breath, going vertebrae by vertebrae I laid down on the warmth the track held onto from the day seep through my shirt to my back. I was sure I was making it up in my head, but it felt like time had slowed down. The birds flying above of me in my left peripheral looked as though their wings barely cut through the air. But when I heard Niki turn that corner, time had continued faster than I remembered it could.  Closing my eyes, I took in a few shallow breaths in preparation. The sound of the car approaching became louder and louder, drowning out the pounding of my heart until it came to a screeching stop.

My eyes shot open and met the clouds that had barely had time to move. Automatically I sought out the birds to see if they had passed while I stayed in my position, back against the ground. I could hear the engine turn off and there were only a few calm seconds before I Niki scrambled out of the car yelling, "Are you crazy!"

"Did you feel that?" I asked a bit breathlessly, tilting my head back to see him, truly snapping back to reality.

"Do you have a death wish?" He asked, ripping off his helmet to scold me further, "What were you thinking? I could have hit you!"

"But you didn't," I said with the same provocation as my previous comment.

"What was that?" Niki asked, clearly still flustered over the situation.

"I'm trying to get you to see my point," I responded, finally getting up to be at the same level as him, “The point you’ve been ignoring.”

"I see your point," Niki nodded his head in anger. I could see the sweat that had built up on his hairline, "It's clear you're trying to scare me off! It is not going to work."

"Really, I'm not," I insisted, shaking my head. I began to walk down the track he had just driven on, "Come, come look at these."

He ran his tongue over his lips, searching for words to respond to my strange, borderline cryptic behavior. However, after a quick internal battle, he begrudgingly walked over to next to me, clearly still fuming at the situation.

"This is a reminder that it can all be taken from you like that," I snapped my fingers instantaneously, "You learn to forget. But my job is to remind you that rug can be taken out from underneath you at any moment. Do you understand the gravity of that?"

He looked at me with wild eyes as if saying that's what all this was for, but then he nodded his head regardless.

"No,  don't just nod your head..." I stressed, probably looking insane as my hands kept fiercly gesturing toward the tire marks, "I need to hear you say it."

"I understand."

"No, you don't," I shook my head further, "You, you need to mean it."

"Margot, I understand." We both went quiet while I took the chance to read his face. I needed to know just how serious he was about it as much as he needed to see how serious I was. He looked at me and then up into the sky breathing out the breath he was holding, letting  out any grievances he still held onto, then looking back down at me to ask, "You said your job?"

I tilted my head to the side, trying now to be as blasé as possible as I shrugged my shoulders, "I put in my two weeks."

---

"Everyone," Niki's Austrian accent boomed throughout the garage, gaining the attention of all it's inhabitants, "This is Margot Lan-

"Banks," I spoke over him, stepping ahead of him slightly with my hand already stuck out to greet people. Meeting new people was never a strong suit of mine. There was always this anxiety that I built up in my head that would manifest through a slightly flushed face and nervous hands that needed distracting. It always felt good to keep my hands busy, but shaking other calloused hands at the moment wasn't the ideal distraction.

Niki shot me a confused look, but continued his introduction, "She will be working on my car for the foreseeable future."

"Clay Regazzoni," The next person had met my hand, one that was a bit more welcoming than the others, "Pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," I shook his hand, "Sei Italiano?" You're Italian?

"Ovviamente! Parli italiano?" He asked in his native tongue. Of course! You speak Italian? 

"Non bene," I laughed slightly, "Sono un po 'fuori allenamento." Not well, I'm a little out of practice.

"Non preoccuparti. Puoi esercitarti con me, a meno che questo qui- " Don't worry. You can practice with me, unless this one over here-

"Margot," Niki interrupted us as if on cue, using his head to tell me to follow, "The car."

I sent Clay a small smile as a goodbye before trailing after Niki with my personal toolbox in hand. On the way over to his car, I couldn't help but think about the list of things Niki expected me to get done today. He was very clear with me that there was no time to waste, as we've already wasted too much time. However, standing in front of his team car, I knew his list would have to wait until my list was completed.  Before he could protest, he was pulled into a conversation with the what looked to be a sponsorship manager, most likely talking about what other horrendous thing they'll add to the car will be.

Just glancing at the car, I could see how Niki had gotten his people to do what he wanted, but in turn they absolutely butchered it. It looked rushed and clumsy. He had smart ideas, but the execution was a bit lackluster and sloppy, creating unnecessary, avoidable risks for what was needed.

"Clay!" I called out to the other side of the garage, "Viene qui un momento." Come here a moment.

I wanted to know what the team's car was supposed to look like and I knew his car would be the closest thing to the original. I needed to know the baseline to build it from the bolts up. I should have known that inviting over a talkative Italian meant that I'd really have to decipher my own mystery. After exchanging some pleasantries I started to wonder how long Niki would be gone. By looks of the conversation he was roped into, I had enough time to start the first thing on my list.

So while Clay helped me practice my Italian, I started inspecting Niki's car. I had learned Clay grew up in Porza, in the Canton of Ticino, part of the Italian-speaking region of Switzerland. He was friendly and welcoming, I already knew the name of his childhood dog, Enzo, and how he would always run away to his childhood crush who happened to look a lot like me. His flirtations, unbeknownst to him, were reaching a dead end. Because throughout the conversation, I could feel Niki's eyes follow my every move, ignoring the person talking to him. At first, I didn't mind it, thinking he just was watching me work. But as my conversation continued with Clay, I realized it wasn't that. Even though he was across the room I could see he looked upset. Angry almost. clearly, his current conversation bothering him enough to scowl over in my direction as he kept an eye on me.

Not long after, Clay too was roped into the conversation and I was left to my own device for the better half of the day, but so far no one who I had met at the beginning of the day even remotely offered me any help. Instead, they all brooded in the corner, as if waiting until I was finished to undo my hours worth of work. If I was thinking fairly, I don't think I would be all too pleased to watch the new person undo work months in the making. The minute I stepped away from the car I knew they'd swarm to it, not letting me get an inch in anylonger. So, the only resolution I could come up with was to muddle through it all in one go.However, the repercussions of that led to me burning the same part of my arm over and over. The first time was a stupid mistake I made while I was removing parts. I assumed the engine would be in the back, like most race cars, so when I reached in blindly the heat of the engine got me. The times following, was just out of pure laziness and frustration of the crammed pieces I was pulling apart.

Hissing again as I touched more hot metal, I could hear the few men behind me chuckle. Of course. There was always an issue. That's why I was always given the busy work, the simple fixes, the oil changes, engine cleaning, checking tire pressure, changing the air filters, anything that no one else wanted to do. So now, when I finally got my hands on something good, of course I'd have to endure the sniggering and overall lack of faith put in me. So be it.

If Niki saw them now, with idle hands, he'd be out for blood.  I wanted blood. Taking a breath to refocus, I continued to work on Niki's requests. He needed a cooler cabin for starters. I tried running the pipe on the outside by the rocker panels along the sides that way they wouldn’t directly under the Niki. That would also help with a mid or rear engine, keeping the fumes and exhaust heat out would making it a lot easier once it all happening behind him. I had lost track of time trying to finagle the gas flow inside the system so it would be kept away from anything that would react badly as I shuffled things around something so simple could end up being the trickiest piece of the puzzle .  I intentionally started from scratch, pulling out each piece one by one, rearranging everything, just to change it all again.  It had become hours of trial and error before Niki had returned.

"Here."

"Hmm?" I hummed, not quite breaking my concentration enough to really acknowledge Niki's presence.

"Eat."

"I will in a moment," I sat on the ground with my legs crossed while I rewired some circuits.

"You said that an hour ago." Did I? An hour ago? I didn't even remember him coming back in. 

Discreetly, I glanced up at the clock to see what time it was before saying, "There's really no hurry, I'll eat in a while."

"And your blister? Are you going to wait until that get's infected?"

"I wasn't," I hummed, standing  up to move onto the next part of my experiment. Carefully, I clicked the circuit back into its place saying, "...but now, out of spite, I think it's a given."

"You are no good to me if you can't work."

"You'll have to get that on a plaque for me," I joked, without pulling my hands from the car, "That way when I really want to feel inspired, all I have to do is look up and read it."

"The others said you won't let them touch the car," Niki ignored me and addressed what he really came over here to say. Probably send by the others.

"Of course they did," I snorted,  "At this point, I don't want them to. I'm too..."

I trailed off, refocusing more on the car and less on my surroundings. I walked around the side of the car, starting it again to see how things responded while it was running. When I saw that the circuit still weren't lighting up in the correct order I shut it down to try again.

"I do not have time for drama," Niki said like an annoyed father who was dealing with bickering teenagers.

"And you think I do?" I had no desire to entertain how I really felt about the so-called team.

"Then, tell them what to finish, and take a break before you become a lawsuit."

"It's not that simple."

"Make it simple," He said, but I only gave him a look, "Fine, I'll go make it simple."

This got me to stop, he knew that it would. So as he went to walk towards them, I said, "Don't...I'll eat the apple, but then you have to finish this how I want you to."

I started to take off my gloves like a truce. Noticing this, Niki came in my direction to switch places. However, before he did, he held out the apple, "A deal is a deal."

I swiped the apple from his hand and slumped onto the stool near the car. After rolling the apple along the side of my pants, I brought it up my mouth to take a satisfying crunch. I breathed out through my nose as I chewed and looked around the garage. The useless crowd of men, continued to look on, now with smug smirks on their lips. I had lost our nonexistent battle, I had passed the baton to Niki.

"You have changed everything," Niki said once he looked at the car. Then, he looked at me. I was positive grease littered my arms and face as earlier the towel soaked with sweat and oil became useless, "There is nothing in the car. Where are all the parts?"

"The trash," I continued to crunched on the apple obnoxiously, my frustrations obvious in each bite.

"You were supposed to fix it," Niki pinched the bridge of his nose, "Not throw everything away."

"This is fixing it," I said through a mouthful of food, "Your structure was all wrong-

"You eat like a cow," Niki said as he looked further into the car, "How am I supposed to focus with all that noise."

"The same way I did while Clay was talking to me."

"He's keen on you."

"I know." I groaned slightly, turning the apple to the other side, "He very...talkative-

"Annoying," Niki said at the same time.

"You aren't much different," I noted, before lulling my head to the side, "You haven't stopped talking to me since you got here, so be nice."

"Why?"

"Why not?" I clenched my jaw, before raising an eyebrow, "He's the only one here that thinks I'm not going to destroy the car if I touch it."

"That is not true," He tutted softly, starting to become more focused on finding his missing exhaust pipe.

"You're right, those boys over there have been nice enough to let me have the car all to myself," I spat sarcastically. I knew what he meant by his statment, but I couldn't help but bring attention to it again.  Especially when the culprits were looking me dead in the eye.

"I prefer it that way," Niki stated. I realized, then, that would probably be the closest thing to a compliment from him.

---

"It's terrible, drives like a pig," Niki concluded after his first test lap.

"Oh, you can't say that," Ferrari's head mechanic whispered, looking to the side praying no one else heard him.

"Why not?" Niki asked, pulling off his gloves and helmet.

"It's a Ferrari!" His arms went up in stereotypical Italian exasperation.

"It's a shit box. It understeers like crazy, and the weight distribution is a disaster," He said, being heard clearly as his balaclava rests on his forehead. He gestured around him, “ It's amazing, all these facilities, and you make a piece of crap like this."

With hands-on his hips, the guy started to form an expression, but Niki was first to mock his attitude, "Huh?"

 Niki wouldn't just accuse Ferriari for being crap if he hadn't truly meant it, but I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the exchange.  During it, I sat next to the owner of the team. He was a kind old man who only knew Italian. A very wealthy man who had an affinity for cars.

"Cosa ha detto?" the old man asked.  What did he say?

"Niente di importante..." I shrugged. Nothing important.

"Margot!" Niki beckoned me to the car. Pushing myself up from the chair next to the older man, I strolled over to Niki as he hoisted himself out of the car. "We need to fix the understeer and come up with something to help the weight distribution, it's shit."

"I heard," I said as I squatted down to take a look for myself. I knew I wouldn't feel it the same as when it drove, but it helped when trying to figure out how to maneuver things, "I'm not sure I can do much about the understeer without making the car illegal. Illegally though, I can do a lot."

"Certainly not," He said not appreciating my humor, "Pull the car in while I talk to him, then we'll address this."

It felt strange to get back into the car. It was like muscle memory the way I lowered my body into the cockpit-like seat. The garage was less than a few meters away, I would barely be driving the car, I could push it if I truly felt like it, which in hindsight I wish I had done. Starting it up, I slowly drove it to its place and practically ripped my body out the minute I had parked it.

The Italian weather was no longer the only thing making me sweat. Come on, get a grip. In an attempt to calm myself, I went through the steps of what I was going to do. See where the engine is housed, work on aerodynamics, put exhausts on the sides for aerodynamic design and weight considerations. Simple. Familiar. My hands were at my sides, twitching slightly any time I thought of touching it. Taking in a deep breath from my nose, I let it out through my mouth. I repeated this for a few minutes, thinking if I waited long enough, my body would respond. But anytime I went to reach out, I drew in another prolonging breath.

"Ora che facciamo parte della Ferrari, cosa ne dici se prendiamo una bevanda per festeggiare?" I jumped slightly at the sudden voice. Now that we're part of Ferrari, what do you say we grab a drink to celebrate?

"Sto bene grazie," I cleared my throat as if I was clearing my thoughts. I'm good.

"Siamo a Fiorano ormai da una settimana! In realtà qui il sole non è come Londra. C'è così tanto da festeggiare!"  Clay tried to ooze his Italian charm but it wasn't working in his favor. We've been in Fiorano for a week now! there's actually sun here not like London! There is so much to celebrate!

"È stata anche una settimana in cui mi hai chiesto di uscire." I poked fun at Clay's antics, trying to lighten my own mood. It's also been a week of you asking me out.

"Funziona ancora?" He gave me a grin. Is it working yet?

"Cosa ne pensi?" What do you think?

"Come on Niki, tell her that she should grab a drink with me to celebrate," He switched to English as Niki went to brush past the two of us only to get caught in Clay's web.

"Celebrate?" Niki laughed slightly, before saying, "What is there to celebrate exactly? She doesn't drive a car. She is not apart of Ferrari. She has already declined your offer. She has work she is behind on. Must I continue?"

"Thanks, Niki," I mumbled sarcastically.

"Is that it? You won't go without him," Clay looked between the two of us, then changing his tune, "Fine, we all go! A friend of mine is having a thing this weekend, it'll be perfect."

"I'm not the social type," I said, hoping to excuse myself from the invitation, "You two enjoy yourselves."

"And you think he's the social type?" Clay pointed to Niki, "Dai, non puoi lasciarmi con lui!" Come on you can't leave me with him!

"Socialization, it's a distraction," Niki pointed his lips down and brushed him off confidently.

"Fine then, you and me, bellissima," Clay turned towards me again, "Agree to this one time and I won't ask you ever again."

"Clay," I said his name, paired with a come-on look.

"You two are all car car car, never fun fun fun," Clay threw up his hands while he complained, then held up a singular finger, "One thing, all I'm asking of you."

"Fine," I sighed, knowing agreeing would be the only way I could be left alone at the moment.

"I'll go." Niki agreed to something I never thought he would. He had his hand on his hips while the two of us gave him a look of disbelief which he only waved off with a hand before getting back to work.

[ceriseeclipse]

Dark Skies

The Signs’ Face Claims

I had this idea for a while: Personification of the signs. I always wanted to write a story that presents the signs as people, with the same features and personalities that the signs are said to have, living their lives, interacting with each other. Here are a few ideas for each character, if I get to the actual story, the characters will develop a lot of course. Please inbox me your feedback, if you would be interested in a story as such. 

Here’s an idea for the face claims. (the actors’ actual sun signs don’t have anything to do with their roles):

Henry Cavill as Aries, the impulsive soldier.Strong-minded and brave, but a hot-head, which makes him dangerous in a fight. He often throws caution to the wind and goes straight to the point, which he may regret later. He lives for today, is initiative and ambitious, lacks certain gentleness, humility and sense of social act, hurts people without even intending to. He’s restless, vital and always looks for new challenges and adventures. Deep-set eyes and dark eyebrows give him the severe, serious but handsome look. He’s not into love, but does like sex. He rarely gets attached to people, only lives for war and winning battles.

Zoë Kravitz as Taurus, the confident, self-sufficient, but sensitive girl. You can rely on her, she’s honest and respects good manners. Patient and cautious, she knows what she wants and won’t let anyone stop her. She keeps her feet firmly on the ground, doesn’t like to dream or wish, she strongly believes that if you want something enough, you have to go and get it. She’s practical and responsible, but easier to break than she’ll ever show. She loves strongly, and passionately, has a big, loving heart, but knows when to let go, she doesn’t put herself down for anyone. Her doe-like, big, brown eyes will make you trust her with your life. She is exactly who a woman should be, if you could say that, confident, strong, independent and intelligent.

Tom Hiddleston as Gemini, the sweet and funny, blonde, curly-haired sunny-boy. He can seamlessly change everything, from style, ideas to work or partner. He is easy to adjust to significant changes. Surrounded by a little nervous energy, he is brilliant but sometimes emotionally unstable. Being bisexual, he likes to sleep around with different people, but doesn’t really mean to intentionally hurt anyone, he just expects other people to take life and relationships as easily as he does. He’s humorous, energetic and cheerful, but doesn’t let anyone see his sensitive side, that’s why his mysterious way seems very attractive. 

Andrew Garfield as Cancer, the typical sweet boy, who likes to play with fire and often gets burned. He can go from being in a great mood to suicidal thoughts in a second. His heart is easy to break and he doesn’t know how to get over it. Trying to bring an order to his chaotic feelings, he starts writing. For himself at first, but that’s how his talent as a writer gets discovered. It helps at first, but his vulnerable nature wants him to take revenge on those who hurt him, which starts to destroy him slowly. 

Madelaine Petsch as Leo, the Queen Bee in Louboutins. She likes expensive clothes, always looks flawless and knows it. She appears even more confident than she actually is. As a struggling actress, her life hasn’t been the easiest. Trusting and a little naive, she’s often been used and lied to. She likes to manipulate people, but sometimes ends up being manipulated herself. Trying hard to hide her generous, forgiving heart, she thinks that the key to success is heartlessness and diamonds. Her brutally honest personality gave her the name of a “bitch”, which she enjoys at times, it gives her a painful kind of satisfaction to be hated, but admired at the same time. Her long, red hair perfectly matches her ever-red lips and green eyes, that roll so often. She enjoys her naturally good looks and knows how to use it for her best. 

Jamie Chung as Virgo, the beautiful healer. She’s a doctor, she lives for helping people. But the sad truth is, she doesn’t always know how to help herself. Being a gorgeous, strong woman, she is full of insecurities, no one can understand. She is ready to sacrifice herself for others, even people she doesn’t know, because her own life doesn’t mean anything to her. Attentive, with great analytical skills, she seems to see everyone's personality through, she sees when somebody’s hurting, when somebody's lying, her eyes don’t miss out on anything. She loves to bring order into the chaotic life, and tries to make the world a better place by being considerate and organized. Being wealthy, she doesn’t like expensive and unnecessary luxuries. Taurus is her soulmate, but unfortunately, there are many struggles that come in their way. Their love is beautiful and innocent, but leaves them both heartbroken, more than once. 

Shay Mitchell as Libra, the girl next door. She has always been a girl who went by unnoticed. A wallflower kind of girl as they say. She never minds, she doesn’t like to show off, doens’t like to shine. Simple clothes and sneakers, ponytail and barely any make-up, that is her every day look. She has a soft personality and knows how to handle troubles, a diplomat, religious, fair, justice has always been important to her. People usually think that she is a depressed teenager, but that isn’t true, life is going as she wishes it to go. She doesn’t like to be pushed, pressured, she prefers to leave responsibility to others. Sometimes, she feels a little basic, that’s all. But the girl will find her place in this world very soon. 

Michael Ealy as Scorpio, the blue-eyed devil. Despite what people said, he isn’t all that bad. The often call him “the evil eye”, if your eyes meet, you always move first. He can kill you with a look, undress you with a look, send you to hell with only one look. He’s never easy, everything is important to him and he takes everything seriously. All around him is black or white, nothing in between. The only people he can call friends seem more like loyal servants. It feels like he never tells the truth, he’s mysterious to a fault and will never tell you his opinion about anything. Don’t do him wrong, he will never let you leave with it. He scars a lot of people. Not always intentionally, just by being himself. 

Will Smith as Sagittarius, the short-tempered cop. He’s charismatic and respectful, a real fighter for justice. Straightforward, he will shoot arrows, he can’t leave anything unspoken. If you’re in the wrong, he’ll make you crack. He does have strong relationships with people, but only the ones who deserve it in his opinion. Quite tolerant, he will accept a lot of your flaws, but never cross a line, he can cut you out of his life in a second. He’s living on the edge, taking risks, jumps into danger, whether it’s about work or love. Being short-tempered, he gets angry fast, screams, even gets physical, but calms down fast and often regrets it. He does have a good soul, but not many get to see it. Mostly, all they see is a man fighting for the good in any possible ways.

Keanu Reeves as Capricorn, the lone wolf. He never really needed anyone. He was fine being alone. Growing up in an orphanage, he was used to it. Not knowing love, no one to care about. But still, he got through, fought for his degree, became a teacher, not even knowing what for. He doesn't really fall in love, he doesn't really get attached, he doesn't really need it. His good looks and seemingly cool nature attracts a lot of people, he’s interesting, mysterious behind closed doors. But no one really knows him, not even himself. At times, it feels like he's ready, to be a part of the world, to take care of people, but he struggles to believe that anyone would put up with him. He always was so ambitious, so determined, but he came to a point where nothing makes sense anymore. That's the moment he meets him. Better said, he reads his book. A book about retaliation.

Margot Robbie as Aquarius, the sharp-tongued beauty. She grew through struggles and insecurities, which turned her into this perfect human being. She was abused, betrayed and had to fight to survive, just to become a brilliant thief. She’s a woman who gets what she wants, with her intelligence and incredible looks. She considers herself a visionary, she has her ambitions and desires, she’s close to the spiritual world and has a great imagination. Overly dramatic at times, she knows her worth, and knows others better than they know themselves. People bore her quite easily, she expects mystery and entertainment from others. Sexually passionate, she suffers from lack of permanent feelings. Her life has to be a never-ending adventure. 

Jared Leto as Pisces, the lost soul. He'a a musician, struggling with drugs and alcohol abuse. His curious and creative mind can't manage between his will to get inspiration and his addictions. He always needs more, whether it's whiskey, love or music, he can never stop. At times, it feels like he's at the end, that he can't do it anymore, but only one shot, and he's back, writing, singing, playing guitar. He falls in love with creative souls like himself, struggling, even dying. For him, it's always over. Every day, can be his last and all he does is singing, dreaming, he always took the path of least resistance.

[purrincess-chat]

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH12

It’s ya boooooy! Malin is here!! Super huge shout out to @salty-french-fry for bringing him to life. I commissioned her to draw all of my OC hero babies, so you can see Malin in all of his anime boy glory here! We stan a trans bicon. And for those who are unaware, Malin is another name for fox in French, but like with the connotation of calling someone sly or tricky. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! I tweaked it quite a bit from the original. ;)

Previous     First      Next     AO3

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Chapter 12: WTF Do I Know

“I know our duty is to the city, but I can’t help these feelings stirring my heart. Every time I see her brilliant blue eyes shining in the moonlight, I am overcome with passion and admiration. She truly is Miraculous.” Eliott looked to Marinette sitting cross-legged on the floor for approval. “How was that?”

“Incredible! You really have Chat Noir down,” she said.

Eliott rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks, but I still feel like I could do better. Opening night is only a week away, and I’m playing one of the leads. Everything has to be perfect.” He paced the length of the stage, adjusting his black mask.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. You make a wonderfully convincing Chat Noir.” She assured him—and she should know.

“Wonderfully convincing isn’t perfect. This play is a tribute to Ladybug and Chat Noir’s triumph on Heroes’ Day. If I screw up then I’ll be dishonoring them.” He turned and gestured to the impressive backdrop of the Eiffel Tower.

“No, you won’t.” Marinette stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re an amazing actor, and I know you’re gonna kill it.”

“Places in five everyone!” The director swept through the stage.

Stagehands rushed around the set. Costume designers made last-minute alterations, and each prop was meticulously tested and placed for ease of access during scene changes. Marinette never realized how chaotic theater was behind the scenes.

Eliott let a deep breath past his lips, and Marinette offered him a smile. “I’ll be watching in the audience. You’re gonna do great.”

“Thanks, Marinette,” he said. “And thanks for coming to watch our dress rehearsal.”

“Thanks for inviting me.”

“Sorry I’m so crazy about everything, I just want to be the best.” He fiddled with his gloves. “I’ve been studying English since I was little because my dream is to perform on Broadway. I know it’s a long shot, but it’s what I’ve wanted ever since my grandma and I watched a play together when I was a kid.”

“You’ll get there, and I’ll be sitting in the front row with Macy, Martin, and Adrien.”

Eliott smiled at that, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. “I actually owe you, Marinette. You’ve helped me a lot as an actor since we met.”

“Me? How?”

“You taught me to take risks. Before I met you, I was just coasting through life, staying out of the way, playing it safe, but now I can stand up for other people and speak out,” he explained. “You helped me find the courage to step outside my comfort zone.”

Her cheeks burned, but she smiled at the sentiment. All of her new friends gave praise so easily—something Marinette wasn’t used to. Helping others wasn’t about getting rewarded, and in most cases, the attention just made her squirm. She helped her friends because she cared. Although, even if their compliments embarrassed her, it was nice to know she was appreciated.

“Watch where you’re going!” A nasally voice grabbed their attention.

“Sorry!” A tiny stagehand shrank under the icy glare of her aggressor.

Eliott sprang into action to diffuse the situation. “Margot, is there a problem?”

“She bumped into me! Can you imagine if I had fallen and broken my wrist a week before opening night? How can I play Ladybug with a broken wrist?” Margot shouted.

Eliott stepped between her and the stagehand, holding up defensive hands. “I’m sure it was just an accident. No one got hurt, so why don’t you go cool off? We’re almost ready to start.”

“Ugh, whatever. Just stay out of my way!”

As she stalked off, Eliott turned to the small girl. “Are you okay, Lisette?”

“You know my name?” Her eyes widened.

“Of course. You hand me my props before I go on stage,” he said. “Don’t let Margot get to you. She’s just nervous because the show is in a week, and it’s her first time playing a lead.”

“It was my fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going,” Lisette said.

Eliott tucked a strand of her blonde hair back into place, brushing her cheek with his thumb. “Hey, don’t worry about it. We’re all a little high strung right now.”

“You’re not.”

Eliott flashed her a playful grin. “I’m a good actor.”

“I know,” she said, and when Eliott quirked a brow she fumbled to add, “I-I’ve kind of had to watch you for the past several months. You’re really good.”

“Wow, thanks, Lisette. I’m flattered that a pretty girl like you is a fan of mine,” Eliott said.

Her cheeks flushed, and she gave a small nod before scurrying off to her position at the director’s order.

Marinette couldn’t help the smile on her lips as Eliott found his mark and took a few deep breaths to center himself. He’d grown a lot since they met, and if someone had to play Chat Noir, she was glad it was him. She’d been uncertain at first, but Eliott really was worthy of being a hero, even if his costar was the worst. How could they cast such a brat to play Ladybug?

Taking her seat in the audience, Marinette thought back to her encounter with Gabrielle several nights prior. True to her word, Gabrielle hadn’t bothered them since, but what she was doing out on her own like that? And what was up with the apron in her bag? Something fishy was going on with her, but at least she was keeping her word. It was about time Marinette got some peace and quiet.

♪♫♪ I’m Not Calling You a Liar ♪♫♪

When the school bell rang, Alya remained seated, lips pursed. Her other classmates gathered their backpacks, eager to enjoy their weekend plans. Adrien paid her no mind as he slung his bag over his shoulder and followed everyone else out. They hadn’t spoken since their last encounter, and Alya still wasn’t sure what to think. He sounded so sure of himself. After being friends with Marinette, she knew far more about Adrien Agreste than she ever cared to, and truthfully, Alya didn’t think he was capable of being malicious.

Don’t believe everything Lila tells you. Be a journalist. Investigate.

But how? It’s not like Alya could just call up a bunch of celebrities and foreign princes to ask them to corroborate all of Lila’s stories, and even if she could, what would Lila think if they proved Adrien wrong? Or worse, what would Alya think if they proved him right? If they proved Marinette right…

It had been two weeks since she left. Two weeks since they… Alya had been hurt at first, and her heart still ached thinking about it now. In the grand scheme of things, she hadn’t known Marinette that long—only a few months—so it was possible that there were things Alya didn’t know about her. Dark secrets she kept hidden. But if that were possible for Marinette, couldn’t the same be true for Lila? And why was Alya so afraid to go looking?

“Alya? Did you hear me?”

She blinked out of her trance. “Sorry, what?”

“You’ve been awfully spacey lately,” Lila remarked. “I was just saying that I have an important meeting today with my youth ambassadors committee. Clara Nightingale has promised to sponsor our clean water initiative, and today’s the only day we can meet with her. Is there any way you can take care of that thing Mlle. Bustier needed for me?”

Don’t believe her.

“Actually, Lila, I have to go pick up my little sisters because Nora has practice this afternoon, and Mlle. Bustier did ask you to do it,” Alya said.

Lila’s eyebrows raised, but just as quickly, she puckered her lips into a pout. “Is there any way you could have Nino pick up your sisters? This meeting is really important.”

“Nino promised Juleka he’d help Kitty Section with their sound system today so they can practice before their gig this weekend.” Her heart pounded as Lila’s lip twitched.

“I mean, I guess I can put off my meeting. Those kids in India will just have to go a little while longer without clean drinking water…” Lila eyed her.

“Ya know, if you’re too busy to keep up with your class rep stuff, you can always tell Mlle. Bustier to let us elect someone else. I’m sure everyone would understand,” Alya said pointedly.

“And let Chloe become the class rep again? I couldn’t do that to you guys.” Lila shook her head.

“True, but I can’t cover for you all the time. I have my own stuff going on. Maybe I’m not saving third world countries, but sometimes I have a life to live too,” Alya said. “You were elected to do all of this, you know.”

“No, I understand,” Lila sighed. “I’ve been putting too much pressure on you to do my job. It’s just so hard to juggle going to school and saving the world. I’ll figure out a way to do it for all of you because you’re my friends, and my friends are just as important to me as any starving, third-world country.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear that you’ll be putting in more effort.” Alya stood up. “Have a good weekend.”

“Oh, I’m sure my weekend will be better than those thirsty children in Iran.”

Alya stopped in the doorway. “Don’t you mean in India?”

“What?”

“Earlier you said the meeting was for children in India. Now you just said Iran,” Alya said.

“Oh, yeah, that’s what I meant,” Lila said. “I have a different thing for Iran next week. It’s hard to keep everything straight when you’re so busy.”

“Right.” Alya’s eyes narrowed. “Well, good luck.”

“Give your sisters a hug for me!”

Alya’s hands shook as she headed up the hall. It was probably nothing, just a simple mix up like she said, but… Given the circumstances, it was a little suspicious. One thing was certain: Alya would be keeping an eye on her.

♪♫♪ Thnks fr th Mmrs ♪♫♪

“Your rehearsal was amazing,” Marinette said afterward over tea. “Well, except for Margot’s prop mishap. I thought she was going to have a meltdown.”

Eliott stirred his drink with a smirk. “She’s a great actress until something goes wrong,” he chuckled. “I just feel bad for Lisette. She looked like she wanted to kill her.”

“Speaking of Lisette…” Marinette gave him a knowing look. “I think she might have a crush on you.”

“Lisette? Nah.” Eliott averted his gaze, taking a sip of his tea. “I’m not anyone important. There’s no way she’d be into me.”

“That’s not true. You’re an amazing actor,” Marinette said. “I mean that, you don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Thanks, I guess the thought of someone liking me just makes me nervous.” He bit his lip.

“Come on. You flirt with everyone all the time,” Marinette said. “You flirted with me on my first day of school.”

“Flirting is different. Just because I flirt with people doesn’t mean they have to like me back,” he said, then biting his lip, added, “Do you really think she likes me?”

“As someone who struggles to get two coherent sentences out around the boy she likes, I think she likes you more than you know,” Marinette said.

“Speaking of… You and Adrien sure seem to get along.” He sipped his tea with a satisfied smirk as Marinette’s cheeks burned. He didn’t waste any time flipping the script, but it was her fault for opening that door.

“Oh, do we? I mean, of course we do. We’re just friends, I don’t have feelings for him at all,” she said with a nervous titter.

“I never said you did,” Eliott said.

“Oh, um, yeah, well then I- don’t tell Macy.” She hung her head in defeat.

“Your secret’s safe with me.” He shrugged. “But you don’t have to worry about Macy’s crush. It’s superficial. She fixates on some famous guy for a while, then moves on when something new catches her eye.”

Marinette relaxed. “Good. I’ve just liked Adrien for a long time, and ever since I left my old school, he’s been paying more attention to me, so…I don’t want it to come between us.”

“Nah, I’m sure if she knew she’d back off,” Eliott assured her. “She’s extremely loyal to her friends and would never try to take away something you wanted even if she wants it too. One time she and I argued for twenty minutes because she convinced herself I wanted the last cookie on the plate. We ended up breaking it in half.”

“That’s a relief.” Marinette let out a breath.

“Though I do have to wonder which sounds better, Marinette Agreste or Adrien Dupain-Cheng?”

Marinette nearly choked on her tea. “Eliott!”

“I’m kinda partial to Adrien Dupain-Cheng myself.”

“Stop!” She covered her face, cheeks burning, and Eliott threw his head back with a laugh.

A herd of people stampeded up the sidewalk right before a loud crash sounded a few blocks over. Debris fell from the ceiling, and Eliott tackled Marinette to the ground, cradling her head.

“That sounded close, we should run.” He pulled her to her feet. “My yacht isn’t far from here, we can hide there.”

As much as she hated to do it, Marinette needed to get away. Gradually, she let herself slip from his grasp in the crowd. Eliott turned over his shoulder in an attempt to reach her again, but too many people stood between them.

“Marinette!”

“Go! I’ll catch up,” she called.

His eyebrows furrowed worriedly, but he pressed on without question.

Marinette ducked into a nearby alley and opened her purse. “Ready, Tikki? Transform me!”

Ladybug tossed her yoyo across the street, tugging the slack and launching herself into the rooftops. Racing down the row of buildings, she followed the civilian trail to the scene of the attack. Overturned cars and broken windows signaled that she was on the right track, and she arrived at the same time as Chat Noir.

“Well, well we meet again, m’lady.” His flirtatious lilt echoed between the buildings as he staff-coptered down to join her.

“I would hope so since saving the city is our job.” She flicked his bell. “I think it’s about time we clocked in, don’t you?”

“Ladies first.” Chat Noir bowed as Ladybug tossed her yoyo and shot into action. “Don’t mean to interrupt your tirade, but I’m gonna need to see some license and registration for that car,” he said as they landed. “What’s the matter? Rough break up?”

The akuma turned to them with a growl, tossing the car aside, and Ladybug spotted a small blonde girl cowering underneath.

“Civilian alert!”

“On it.” Chat Noir charged forward, brandishing his staff.

“Ladybug! Chat Noir! I am Showstopper, and I’m about to give Paris the performance of a lifetime after I get rid of her.”

The small girl on the ground cowered under Showstopper’s glare, her blonde buns oddly familiar…

Ladybug gasped. “That’s Lisette which means Showstopper must be Margot! She really was upset by that mistake.”

Lisette attempted to run, but Showstopper served a ball of light at her with the tennis racket—the lucky charm prop from the play and likely where the akuma was hiding. The attack froze Lisette in place, but before Showstopper could make her next move, she blocked a blow from Chat Noir’s staff. A few seconds passed, and the magic faded, sending Lisette toppling forward.

“So that’s it,” Ladybug said, then to Chat Noir called, “Don’t let her hit you, or she’ll freeze you for a few seconds!”

“Got it!” He dodged an orb.

Once Showstopper drove him back several paces, she dashed after Lisette, launching a bus to the end of the street to block the exit.

“Going somewhere?”

“No, but you are.” Ladybug hooked her yoyo around Showstopper’s ankle. Showstopper lobbed several orbs at her before she could pull the slack, and Ladybug backflipped out of the way, diving for cover with Chat Noir behind two flipped cars.

“We need a plan to get that girl out of here.” He peeked over the side.  

Ladybug palmed her yoyo. “Lucky Charm!” Her eyebrows raised as a paper lantern landed in her hands.

“Oh great, you can light the way for her to wreck that girl,” Chat Noir said.

Ladybug pursed her lips contemplatively. “I need to go to Master Fu,” she said. “Can you handle things until I get back?”

“Just don’t keep me waiting too long.” Chat Noir nodded before they broke off.

Leaving in the middle of a battle was always risky, but this wasn’t a fight they could win alone. She just hoped that she could find an ally in time.

“Master Fu?” Marinette knocked, peeking her head inside.

“What is it, Marinette?” He glanced up from his book.

“I need to borrow a Miraculous to win this battle.”

Master Fu retrieved the Miracle Box from the phonograph and placed it on the mat in front of her. “Have you found someone you trust to wield it?”

Marinette contemplated her choices carefully, running strategies in her head. After she and Alya split up, she wasn’t sure she’d ever trust someone enough to replace Rena Rouge, but her new friends proved her wrong. Taking a deep breath, she nodded and reached for the fox. “I know exactly who to pick, and I won’t let you down this time.”

Master Fu offered her one of his proud, grandfatherly smiles. “You never have. I have always had faith in you, Marinette.”

Her chest swirled with pride as she stood up. “Transform me.”

Eliott’s yacht was empty when Ladybug touched down on the deck. He told Marinette to hide there, so she’d been certain it was where he’d be. Then again, Eliott wasn’t the same cowardly boy he’d been when they met, and he didn’t turn his back on a friend. She knew where to find him.

“Marinette?” His voice echoed between the buildings of the abandoned street, and he flinched when Ladybug landed behind him. “Ladybug! Thank goodness, have you seen my friend Marinette? We got separated, and I told her to meet at my yacht, but-”

“Don’t worry. She’s safe,” Ladybug said. “Actually, I need your help.”

“My help?” He arched a brow. “I mean, sure, I'll do anything.”

“Eliott Chasse, this is the Miraculous of the fox which grants the power of illusion. You will use it to fight for the greater good.” She extended the box to him.

“Whoa, you're giving me a Miraculous?” he gasped. “But wait, why me? What happened to Rena Rouge?”

“She's...not around.” Ladybug averted her gaze. “Will you help me?”

“I-I dunno. I think my friend Marinette would be way better at this than me.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Eliott…” Ladybug smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You are the right person for this job. Have courage and believe in yourself. That's all you need to be a superhero.”

Eliott pressed his lips together, then accepted the box with a nod. Shielding his eyes from the bright light, he gaped in disbelief as Trixx materialized. “Whoa!”

“My name’s Trixx. I’m a kwami, and if you want to transform all you have to say is ‘Trixx, transform me!’” she explained as Eliott fastened the clasp of the necklace.

“Alright then. Trixx, transform me!” When the orange light faded, Eliott examined his orange and white suit with wide eyes. “Wait, is this really happening?”

“Do you know how your powers work?” Ladybug asked. There was no time to waste.

“Of course. I studied news footage in preparation for my role as Chat Noir in an upcoming play. I wanted to accurately portray the team's dynamic,” he said.

“Good, then follow me.”

Ladybug tossed her yoyo and shot off. Eliott hesitated only briefly, taking a few steps before leaping over the building after her. He touched down lightly beside her before they shot off again.

“I know it's a lot to take in, but we don't have a lot of time,” Ladybug said. She pulled up the news coverage of the akuma. Showstopper had taken the battle all the way to the Eiffel Tower. She skidded to a stop behind a chimney and closed her yoyo. “Hmm…Lucky Charm!”

“A bottle of soap? At least the villain will be squeaky clean?” Eliott shrugged.

Ladybug turned it over in her hands, a plan forming in her mind. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do.”

- - -

Showstopper held a frozen Lisette over the edge, and Chat Noir held up defensive hands as he attempted to negotiate.

“Hand over your Miraculous, or I'll drop her!”

“Maybe we can come to a compromise,” he reasoned, but Showstopper was in no mood.

“You have five seconds. One!”

“There has to be something else you want.”

“Two.”

“After all this is murder we're talking about.”

“Three!”

“I'm sure she didn't mean any harm.”

“Four!”

“Ladybug, hurry up!”

“Five!”

Before Chat could react, Showstopper released her grip, sending Lisette plunging toward her doom. Chat Noir attempted to dive after her, but Showstopper pitched another orb at him. To his relief, Ladybug swung in to deflect it just in time, but there was no time for gratitude.

“Ladybug! The girl!”

“Already taken care of,” she assured him.

- - -

Lisette unfroze midway down, eyes widening in fear as the ground grew closer. Just as a scream reached her throat, Eliott caught her, carrying her safely back to the Eiffel Tower. Her screams echoed across the bars as she clung to him for dear life, but they quieted the moment she looked into his eyes.

“Falling from heaven, angel?” He set her down gently. “Stay hidden. Showstopper can't see you if we want our plan to work.”

She blinked in shock, cheeks flushing. “Wait!” She caught his wrist as he turned to leave. “W-Who are you?”

“Uh… Call me Malin.” He winked, giving a two-finger salute before leaping up to the rafters.

Malin summoned his Mirage on the way up, cheeks still hot. Now wasn’t the time to worry about what Lisette thought of him. First, he needed to save her.

“You're too late!” Showstopper proclaimed, and Malin cleared his throat.

“Are we?” He clocked a brow.

Showstopper spun around where Malin held his fake damsel. “No!” she growled.

“New friend?” Chat Noir sized him up.

“I'll tell you later,” Ladybug said.

Malin set his illusion free with instructions to run, and as expected, Showstopper gave chase. Ladybug really was a wizard at coming up with plans. When Chat Noir moved to follow, Malin stepped in front of him with a wink.

“Who are you?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

“Name's Malin, and you are one foxy feline in person, Chat Noir.” He looked him up and down.

“Less flirting, more running. Phase two,” Ladybug ordered. “Kitty, follow me and get ready to use your Cataclysm. Malin, you know what to do.”

“On it.” Malin nodded, leaping back over the edge with a whoop.

Showstopper pursued the fake Lisette to the second-floor restaurants, falling right into their trap. She skidded against the soapy floor as Malin's illusion faded before her eyes. A broom perched between two chairs clotheslined her, sending her tennis racket flying from her grasp right into Chat Noir's waiting Cataclysm.

Malin helped Margot up as Ladybug captured the akuma and returned everything to normal. “Seriously, losing your cool over a prop malfunction is so lame.” He chided. “You're playing Ladybug, so my suggestion is: take a lesson from the real thing and let go of that bad energy.”

Lisette peeked up from the stairs timidly, pacing over to join them. “I'm sorry your yoyo string was tangled. I should have checked it,” she said.

“Yeah, whatever.” Margot rolled her eyes. “Sorry I tried to throw you off the Eiffel Tower.”

“Technically, you did throw her off the Eiffel Tower,” Chat Noir said pointedly.

“You were awesome, Malin.” Ladybug nudged him with her elbow.

“It was your plan, all I did was help.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

Ladybug shook her head. “You saved this girl, and we couldn't have done it without you. Be proud. You're a true superhero.”

Malin bit back a smile, surveying his suit and squaring his shoulders with a new sense of purpose. Ladybug was right. He had his doubts when she asked him because he still had a long way to go before he would consider himself an actual hero. If anyone deserved the title without a Miraculous, it was Marinette, and he owed this opportunity to her. He never would have had the courage to accept Ladybug’s offer without her. It was a shame she’d never know how much she truly changed his life. Maybe one day he could tell her this secret, but for now, he’d wear his secret identity like an invisible badge of honor.

“Pound it!” The three heroes said in unison.

Malin turned to Lisette and bowed formally. “Perhaps I will save you again someday,” he said.

Lisette bit her lip before stretching up to kiss his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Ladybug took his wrist and toted him off as a dopey grin spread across his lips. They retreated to a private corner at the base of the tower, and Malin returned the necklace to Ladybug. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Eliott shifted his gaze to his shoes with a sigh.

“What's wrong?” Ladybug asked.

“Nothing, just… Lisette kissed Malin, not Eliott.” He kicked at the ground.

“You really like her, don't you?” Ladybug asked.

Eliott flinched, rubbing the back of his neck. That morning the thought of falling in love with someone terrified him, but now… Maybe he hadn’t come down from his heroic high, but with Lisette’s kiss still burning on his cheek, he smiled.

“Yeah, I do,” he said.

“Well, Malin is very charming, but I think she might need someone to walk her home. Think Eliott can handle that?” Ladybug pointed to where Lisette was stepping off the elevator.

Have courage and believe in yourself.

On any other day, the fear of rejection would have convinced him to walk away, and maybe tomorrow it would. But today, today he wasn’t afraid.

“Lisette! Wait up.”