#yes this is about Anna-scribbles

[marimbles]

I’m scared of anyone who can maintain a regular update schedule for fics. twice a week. Once a month. It’s all scarily impressive to me. That you could be disciplined enough to make yourself work that fast OR disciplined enough to hold onto it until it’s time. And people who write the entire thing and then release the chapters one at a time on a schedule??? people who have planned enough ahead to do actual promotion for their fic??? do art ahead of time???? good grief. are you even a mortal.

[ryssbelle]

Drew a bunch of Marinettes in a bunch of different artists styles it was a lot of fun!!

Artists who's styles I mimicked: @buggachat @hamsternamedmarinette @ladybeug @sabertoothwalrus and @anna-scribbles all epic artists 🤟😎

[justlemmeadoreyou]

Hopelessly Devoted to You-Part 2

Summary: Y/n agrees to Harry's offer; a flashback from the camp.

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, a LOT of cute shit in the end (harry with kids :(((( (my weakness))

(previous part here) | (series masterlist) | (main masterlist)

Harry wasn’t this much of a hopeless romantic he is now, over Y/n. Sure, he had had his fair share of heartbreaks in the past, but that didn’t stop him from loving unconditionally.

So, when he found out about Y/n, it made his heart ache. He didn’t know if she wanted her as her lawyer, or just wanted to talk to him about it as a friend

Either way, he was happy to help.

There was a call from his secretary, Anna, when he was going through a document.

“Yes?”

“Mrs. Clark is here to see you” she said through the phone.

“Mrs. Clark? Oh, Y/n? Yeah, send her in”

He would never get used to her carrying the name of her douchebag husband. 

She knocked the door softly, even though he had already allowed her to come in.

“Come in”

She unlocked the door, a smile on her face as she let herself in, closing it behind her.

“Hi” she greeted him, coming and sitting on the chair in front of his desk.

“Hi, how have you been?” he asked.

“I’m alright. I-I thought about–the offer you gave me the other day”

“Oh yeah? What did you decide?” 

“I’ll–I’ll take it, yeah. I just want this all to be over as soon as possible”

His smile faded away. Did something bad happen? Because if it did, God forbid he would go to her house right now and beat him up. 

“Did-did something happen, Y/n? You know you can tell me, right? I’m here for you”

She smiled again, shaking her head in no, “No–nothing bad happened–it’s just–he kind of got suspicious that day–after I went home, he kept asking me where I had gone and what I do”

“Oh–what did you tell him?”

“I told him it was lunch with a friend. He asked me who it was, and I told him it was Grace–she is a friend of mine. He called her and she said that I was with her the whole afternoon, she’s super sweet, and saved me.”

He sighed in relief, thankful that he hadn’t hurt her.

“He’s such a bastard–it’s like he feels that he owns you or something” he huffed.

“I know! That’s why–I want you to be my lawyer”

He grinned wide, a victory for his heart as he shook her hand.

“I’m so happy, Y/n. And I want you to know that you don’t have to worry about the money, alright? You don’t have to pay me at all”

Her eyes widened. Why was he doing this for free? She knew this was going to be a long trial, because he won’t let go that easily. Plus, she would have to fight for Ellie’s custody too.

“But–Mr.Styles–I can’t take it. It’s a super generous offer, but I really can’t.”

Of course she won’t. He’ll just have to make her take it, then.

“Y/n–okay, tell me, how will you pay me, then?”

Her shoulders slumped, mouth quirking in a pout, that he wanted to kiss. But he pushed that thought to the back of his mind, where numerous others were locked in.

“I have my savings–since the abuse started, I started to save money for myself, and Ellie’s education-in case I ever needed to leave him, or he left me for someone else”

If anyone leaves her, her, for someone else, he has to be the biggest moron on the planet.

“Y/n, you know I won’t let you do that. You are leaving Elliot, and you’ll need it after you move out of his house”

“But–but–”

“No but’s. Please. I insist”

She sighed, licking her lips as she reluctantly agreed. She began to think, lost in thought as he began to scribble something on the notepad nearby.

“Oh-what if I get a job till then? Then you’ll let me pay you, right? Because then money would be coming in and savings won’t be an issue–”

“We’ll see about that”

He dismissed. He wasn’t going to let her pay him even a penny. 

.   .   .

“So, you’re a lawyer?”

Y/n asked him.

They were sat by the bonfire. After a long, long day of kids screaming, playing around, crying for their parents, lots of first aid kits because they kept falling off the trampoline–all of them had a moment of rest.

A bonfire was lit, after the kids were put to sleep. Everyone had found someone they could talk to–just like Y/n and Harry found each other.

They were sat side by side on the mat, a cup of tea in their hands as they talked and laughed with no care in the world.

“Yeah. Family lawyer. If you ever need help, you can come to me, I’ll help you–no money in exchange”

She had giggled softly back then, but that offer was her lifeline today.

“Alright. Noted” she smiled, taking a sip off her cup.”

“What about you? Your husband–he works in accounts?”

Her smile slipped away at the mention of him, and Harry took a mental note to not bring him up again. She was hoping he would do that too.

“Yeah, he’s an accountant”

“That’s good.

They fell into silence after that, the sounds in the background only being the sounds of crackling fire and then suddenly, there was a cheer. They looked up to see someone had gotten a guitar, and began to play a song. It was difficult to identify which one it was from just the guitar tune, but Harry knew.

"Horse with No Name," Harry said, a nostalgic smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise. "You play guitar?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Harry nodded, a hint of bashfulness in his expression. "Yeah, I used to play quite a bit back in college. It's been a while, though."

Encouraged by his confession, Y/n urged him, "Well, why don't you play something for us now? I'd love to hear."

Harry hesitated for a moment, but the warm glow of the fire and Y/n's encouraging smile emboldened him. With a nod, he took the guitar from the musician and began to strum a gentle melody.

As the soothing notes filled the air, Y/n felt herself relax, the tension of the day melting away. Harry's fingers danced across the strings with practiced ease, and soon, the melody took on a life of its own.

Lost in the music, Y/n closed her eyes and let herself be carried away by the melody. For a brief moment, there was nothing else in the world except the sound of Harry's guitar and the crackling of the fire.

When the song came to an end, there was a moment of silence before applause erupted from the small crowd gathered around the bonfire. Y/n opened her eyes to see Harry smiling at her, a twinkle of satisfaction in his eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered, her heart full with the beauty of the moment.

Harry returned her smile, his own heart lightened by the connection they had shared. "Anytime," he replied, his voice soft with sincerity. 

“So, when did you decide to become a lawyer?” she asked, wanting to talk to him more. The camp was only a week, and that was a small amount of time for her to get to know this gentleman who found her interesting.

"Well, ever since I was a child, I've had this innate sense of justice. I couldn't stand seeing people treated unfairly, and I knew I wanted to make a difference." Harry replied.

Y/n nodded, impressed. "That's admirable. Not everyone has the courage to pursue their passions."

She knew she was talking about herself.

Harry smiled gratefully. "Thank you. It hasn't always been easy, but knowing that I can help people in their time of need makes it all worthwhile.”

He noted how she had said “not everyone” and he suspected she was talking about herself.

“And–I don’t mean to intrude, but I think when you said, “not everyone”, you meant yourself?” he asked.

She shrugged her shoulders, gulping down as she replied, “Yeah, I–I wanted to be a teacher. I’ve always loved children, and it was my dream to get a job at a primary school and teach and take care of little children.

Harry smiled. She was so innocent, so pure. But she had seen more than he ever did.

“So, why did you quit?”

Her smile faded away again, “It was mostly me, but I got married young, you know–I fell in love with him in high school, and I was just a young, naive, innocent girl who did not know better”

He nodded, listening intendedly as she talked about it.

“So–I got married, and then pregnant, and all of that faded away. Like, I completed school and my degree–that was when I got pregnant so I never really had a chance to complete my masters degree or look for a job. And then Ellie was a premature baby, so Elliot suggested that I stay at home.”

It was so easy to talk to him. Even though they had met today, the way he was able to get her to talk so much–open up about her past, and talk about stuff she never had with anyone–was magic.

“So, would you work if you got the chance to?” he asked. If she was his wife, he would never have gotten her pregnant if she didn’t want to, and he would’ve made her complete her masters, and get a Phd, even, because she was just that smart. 

“I mean–yeah sure, I would. But I would need a masters degree to work in a decent school, and the opportunities are already so low. So, it’s a lost cause”

Harry immediately protested, “Hey, don’t say that. No, it’s not a lost cause. If you want to, you can still get your degree, and then work. You’re young too”

She blushed at that. It had been a while since she had heard that.

.   .   .

The next morning, Y/n took Ellie to meet Harry.

“Honey, this is Harry–he’s mommy’s new friend” 

She introduced him, and he smiled so big, his dimples and bunny teeth were on display.

“Oh god, who is this pretty little girl?” he exclaimed, and she giggled, already looking up at him with adoration.

“Hi Harry, I’m Ellie. But my mom calls me cupcake”

He giggled again, crouching down on his knees, taking her tiny hands in his.

“So, what can I call you, Miss.Cupcake?”

She giggled again, and seeing the way Harry was with kids, made Y/n’s heart swell.

“You can call me cupcake too” she replied, and he reached into his pockets, pulling out a candy, “Here, take this” he gave it to her, and she smiled.

“Next time, I’ll have a cupcake for you”

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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[ohtobealady]

If you'd want to do another one-word prompt, I would like to suggest: provoke! <3 I'm living for all your new drabbles! The Cobert content that feeds me <3

Hi, sweet friend! Thank you so much for this prompt word--it's a great one. I set this as a missing scene during S5E8. Existing dialogue is at the top of the drabble (which you'll likely recognize) as well as some callbacks to JF's dialogue throughout S5. (I also included an original one of mine.)

There was a little line in this episode that struck me...along with the realization that Robert definitely goes to Bond Street (and therefore Sotheby's) after hanging around Susan and Shrimpie.

---Provoke------

He really hadn’t been paying much attention to what his valet was saying, but when Bates paused, silent, Robert realized he should speak. “Ah,” he tried. “Do let us know if you need us to do anything for you.”

It seemed to work, and Bates moved the slippers closer to Robert’s feet. “It isn’t necessary, my lord. Not yet. But thank you.”

He nodded at Bates, feeling a little sorry he’d not paid better attention to what he’d quietly said to him. Instead Robert’s thoughts had been on the dinner he’d endured, Susan’s ugly words tossed carelessly about, provoking everyone just the way she always did. He smiled at his valet, wishing Bates a good night, before slipping his feet into his house shoes. Truthfully he’d been eager to discuss the dinner with Cora all evening, but everytime he sought her out there was another person there beside her—Susan twice, which wouldn’t do. So he went through the small dividing door to their bedroom at Grantham House, happy to have her alone at last.

“Sinderby's going to be quite a challenge for Rose,” he said immediately upon entering, hardly waiting at all for the door to close behind him. 

His wife barely looked up as she sat on the small settee at the end of their bed, scribbling notes in her little notebook that she’d rested upon her lap. “No doubt about that.”

“And what possessed Susan?” he continued, untying his dressing gown as he stood before her. “‘Do you have any English blood?’” he repeated what his cousin had said to the boy’s parents. How had she had the gall to say that to them? “Really.” 

Cora, sighing and shaking her head in agreement, lifted her eyes to look around the room as if she were trying to find the answer floating in the air. “She speaks without thinking.”

And just as Robert was about to open his mouth, to continue saying what he’d stored away in his mind to tell her when they were finally alone, Bates’s words from his dressing room only moments ago came rushing back. Robert looked at Cora, and he dipped his brows. “By the way, did you know Bates and Anna are going to Scotland Yard tomorrow morning?”

“Certainly not!” she exclaimed. “Why?”

Robert frowned. “Bates didn't really give a reason.”

“Do they want character testimonials?”

“I offered, but he said no.” The weight of remorse that he’d been distracted earlier made his limbs heavier, and he walked to the bed. “Not yet.”

He picked up his book and dropped upon the mattress. He flipped through the pages he knew he’d already read, and then, just as he did at Downton, he swung his legs up and into the sheets before lifting his eyes to Cora who still sat upon the blue settee. 

She looked pretty there. He watched her for a moment, watched the braid of her hair as it moved upon her back when she looked down again into her notebook. He heard her pencil writing, and he wondered, distantly, what about. 

“Seems a strange business,” she said quietly, still looking down into her lap.

“Yes.” He drew in a breath, and although he made his eyes find the page of his book, it did not work. He still thought of Bates: the way he’d moved the muscles in his jaw when he mentioned their errand; the flippant way Robert had spoken to him; the way Bates had said his wife’s name, nearly reverently. And next, Robert’s mind inexplicably went to Susan. He sighed when his mind heard again what she’d said: “We’re not in one room? Together?” Her voice had not been soft. Her voice had been strained and annoyed.

Cora had been so embarrassed for Shrimpie, standing there in the foyer, fresh from the gangplank, his wife affronted that they may have to share a room. And Cora, in her way, had tried to diffuse it, giving some sort of excuse in order to bring some reason into it, but Susan could not be diffused. 

Robert’s eyes, like his thoughts, drifted up to find his wife once more, her delicate frame all dressed in creams and ivories as bent over her tiny notebook, writing. 

What had Cora said a moment ago? Whenever Robert had come in grumbling, incredulous at what Susan had said at dinner? What was it that Cora said? 

“She speaks without thinking.” 

Robert frowned. No, Susan did not speak without thinking. She thought about every single word that came from her lips. She was angry and bitter, and she made others angry and bitter, too. And Cora’s gentle assessment of his dreadful cousin—Cora’s nature to think better of everyone, to think that Susan had no malice there and instead only blundering impulsivity—-was far more than Susan deserved. 

But that was Cora. She didn’t consider the mean and undignified qualities that most people acted on from time-to-time, and Robert admired that in her—usually. He was grateful for it when he’d been on the receiving end of her grace, but then … Oh. Though he didn’t want to, he thought of the night weeks ago that she’d come into his dressing room, telling him to come back to her. He thought of the way Cora had shook her head when he argued with her, even after he’d joined her in their bed. He thought of the way she’d told him, tearily, as they trudged uncomfortably through the conversation, “I never expected him to think I’d do anything. He never gave any clue that’s what he was after.”

It made Robert angry then, for that man had given her clues. It made Robert angry that Cora had not noticed them. How could she not have noticed them? How could she possibly not have known that man—Bricker—didn’t simply want to speak of art; he didn’t just want to flirt. How had she not known he’d want to bed her? 

Again, he watched Cora’s braid move upon her back as she wrote in her little notebook, and he listened to the little sounds her pencil made … and suddenly Robert’s heart ached for her. 

“Cora?” he asked softly. “Aren’t you nearly finished?”

She twisted to glance at him over her shoulder. “Oh. Yes. Sorry, darling.” 

He smiled when she closed her notebook, and he watched the soft silk of her nightdress billow out behind her as she walked towards the bed. She slid her notebook upon her side table, and then her fingers unbuttoned the two small buttons at her neck to remove her cape of a dressing gown. 

He’d been staring at her, wondering at her. How had he not seen her this way weeks ago? 

“What is it?” she nearly cooed, a bashful smirk upon her lips, and Robert broke her gaze and laughed.

“It’s nothing,” he smiled down at his book. “You look very nice is all.”

He was rewarded with one of her real laughs, a surprised sort of burst of air that warmed the space around them. “In my nightclothes?” she asked as if Robert had lost his senses. He heard the switch of her lamp before her small weight rocked the mattress beneath him, and then came the subtle wafts of the warm, sweet smell of her perfume. And Robert closed his eyes. 

Beneath this very roof, two of the men he admired most likely lay in their beds uncomfortably. Bates, the echo of his voice feeling more and more like a pit of dread in one’s stomach. Shrimpie, his stiff features at dinner like an over-starched collar cutting into the soft flesh of one’s throat. 

And yet Robert lay here, in his soft bed, surrounded by sleepy whispers of jasmine perfume and a soft silk nightdress he knew was wrinkled and bunched beneath the sheets.

How did he deserve it? 

His eyes, those disobedient things, moved again from the printed words they would not read and to Cora beside him. He indulged himself by looking at her, at how she still shifted to find a comfortable position on her side, at how she tilted up her chin and how his lamp cast golden light on her face. He looked at her closed eyes, her still mouth, the fingers of her hand that rested upon his pillow. 

And instead of smiling, he frowned. 

“She speaks without thinking.”

No. Cora was wrong. 

“I never expected him to think I’d do anything. He never gave any clue that’s what he was after.”

Wrong, but he loved her so much more for it than he ever had before. 

“Cora.”

She opened her eyes and found him. “Mmm?”

He must’ve looked very serious, for she blinked at him, and he forced himself to grin. “I—-.” But he hadn’t a single thing to say aloud to her. Nothing that would make sense to her. Nothing he could put into words that could express how sorry he was that he’d ever imagined she was anything but … good.  

In spite of his grin, his silence alarmed her for now the blinking was also a furrowed brow. “Robert?” She lifted herself slightly upon an elbow. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.” He swallowed. “Only I find myself unable to sleep.”

This did the trick, and Cora laid back down, her features softening and relaxing once again. “Well you are reading,” she said. “It’s difficult to do both at once.”

Chuckling, Robert closed his book, and he slid it to the table beside him, and like his wife, switched off his lamp. 

“I didn’t mean you had to stop,” he could hear her saying as he shifted down into the bedding. “That is, if you aren’t tired.”

He ignored that, and instead he lifted his arm and invited her closer beside him. “Come.”

“Oh?” But she was laughing, lowly, in her throat as she moved to touch his side. 

With his arm around her, and her hand in his own lying in the dark, his heart beat madly against his ribs. Eventually, after a few still and silent moments, Cora whispered, and her breath was warm even through his nightshirt. 

“This is unlike you.”

“Nonsense.” He pressed a kiss to her head. And then to her forehead. And then, when she looked up at him, to her soft lips. “It’s exactly like me, to want to hold you.” 

She inhaled against him, and he could feel the lift of her thin shoulders and chest. “Well, since I like it, I won’t argue with you.”

“Do you like it?” His voice had been deeper than he thought it’d be, and he saw in the darkness of the room the way Cora’s lips parted before she nodded against his shoulder.

And he kissed her.

“We really shouldn’t,” she whispered against his mouth, even as he could feel her breath quicken. “Someone may hear.”

“And if they should?”

She laughed at this, a rumble of a laugh that hardly filled the space between them, before he caught her again in a kiss and began to move her beneath him. 

“Darling,” he heard her sigh, and he smiled at how sweet it was, even if he longed for more. He wanted to hear the care in her voice, the contrast to all the bitter and angry words at dinner.

“Say my name,” he asked of her as he kissed her ear, as he settled his weight upon her hips, between her knees. 

He heard her soft noise—confusion or surprise, he wasn’t sure, but it was quiet and if her lips hadn’t been against his jaw, he’d have missed it. “What?” 

“I want to hear you say my name.”

“Robert–” but it wasn’t soft or quiet. It was only the prelude to her small resistance. “We can’t.”

“Won’t you let me?” 

She hummed against him as his hand felt the thin silk of her nightdress. His breath caught at the sensation. 

“But what if we embarrass Susan? If she hears?”

“She won’t.”

“Her room shares a wall—“

“No one’s ever heard us before.” He closed his eyes at the soft skin of her thigh. She kissed his shoulder, his cheek. Her hands were at his chest. His back. And his heart beat madly. “We won’t make a sound.”

“The bed and …. everything’s been so uneasy between them … I wouldn’t want to make her feel—if—“

“Let me,” he begged as his head fell to her throat. She’d lifted her chin to give him access, and he could feel the soft curls in her braid against his forehead. Robert’s mind whirled, thought after thought, each one reminding him how he’d been such a fool. Reminding him how wonderful she was. Reminding him that he loved her so terribly, terribly much. “You’re my wife,” his voice prayed against her skin. 

And she stilled. 

He felt that she had. Her fingers that had been at his jaw slipped away. Her head tipped away from his lips. And when he lifted himself to peer at her in the dark, he could see she was not cross, but she did look different. For beneath him, she drew in a breath. Although she smiled, it didn’t reach her eyes. It was not one of her real smiles, not the ones that were so often in the heated air between them—the ones that wrinkled her nose, and Robert wondered what had happened. What had he done? 

But then, she nodded. “Very well. But please be very quiet.”

It wasn’t until she’d drawn in another deep breath that Robert realized what she’d heard: “You’re my wife.” Possession. Which, of course, she was his as much as he felt he was hers. But he’d not meant that. He meant it with gratitude, pride, love. And also guilt. 

Her fingers were working at his pajama bottoms when he stopped her, quickly pulling away and feigning a quick chuckle. “Wait.”

Her eyes met his.

“You’re right.” He sighed. “Of course you’re right.” He rolled from her and to his back.

“Oh?”

“Not that I care much for Susan’s feelings…” he mumbled as he fixed the bedclothes.

“Are you certain?” 

He looked at her, and just as he’d done before, he lifted his arm to invite her in. “Yes.” 

Like before, she moved to him and rested against him, his heart beating a little quicker in his chest. Again he pressed a kiss to her head, and his hand found hers. 

“I’m sorry,” her voice rumbled against him. “It isn’t that I don’t want to—“

“Don’t apologize,” he answered, and again he thought of buried memories so recently made new again. Of flirtations gotten out of hand. He thought of the break in her voice when he’d accused her of letting that man in her private life—into Robert’s place in her heart. “He thought it. And he was mistaken.” He thought of her smile when he entered the gallery at home, after he heard that man pour compliments upon her as she showed him the Della Francesca. “It’s nice to show it to someone so appreciative.” 

And at last, he thought of her soft little words about Susan. Words that couldn’t be more wrong: “She speaks without thinking.”

Robert blinked in the dark. Cora’s head on his chest. His heart beating beneath her. And suddenly he knew what he wanted to do.

“I think I’ll go to Bond Street tomorrow.”

“Oh?” He felt the warmth of her breath. “What for?”

“I want to see about something.”

He heard her yawn, but quietly. “Do you want company?”

“No.” Robert pulled his wife closer to him—-his darling wife—-and he closed his eyes. “But thank you.”

[flightfoot]

ML Fanfic recs for 2023: 2K - 5K Words

So I’ve been going through and adding particularly good fics I’ve read throughout the year. Only Complete fics, of course. Enjoy!

An uncaffeinated Marinette makes for an easily misunderstood Marinette.

Luka’s a ghost. Naturally, he does some haunting. He didn’t expect to fall in love along the way.

Nathaniel keeps trying to confess his feelings to Ivan. Marc keeps trying to sabotage those attempts in order to confess his own feelings. Why does it seem like things never go right?

Cat Walker’s under orders to fight Ladybug. That doesn’t stop Adrien from helping his girlfriend.

Zoe and Kagami discuss the intricacies of relationships while being mildly inconvenienced by zombies.

Kagami awakens to find herself in a house with a zombie. This is less of a problem than you might think.

Sabine keeps having nightmares about Ladybug and Chat Noir killing Marinette. She has some basis to worry.

All this and more below the break!

---

They fill you with the faults they had. And add some extra, just for you by @unecoccinellenoire 

The thing is, Adrien Agreste isn’t a sentimonster. That’s the problem.

It’s left ambiguous exactly what’s happening, but... instead of the characters who’re canonically sentis being controlled, it looks like another method’s been used to keep them under their parents thumb. Basically, that what we thought were the kids amoks’ were actually used to brainwash more generally. Which leads to some complicated ethical questions for Adrien, since he now holds the rings. Especially since he can now use the rings on others the way they were used on him. 

---

what if we got married in the park by my house in the middle of the school year by @wooawi

Marinette comes up with an ingenious plan to take Adrien away from Gabriel's garbage parenting.

This was just fun. Of course Marinette’s immediate plan to get Adrien away from his garbage family is to make him part of her own. It’s hilarious and adorable and Adrien rocks the wedding dress!

---

Slip of the Tongue (And Not Enough Caffiene) by That_WildChild

Marinette is tired. Marinette is also uncaffeinated. This is not a good combination.

A sleepy Marinette accidentally suggests that she shares her bed with Ladybug. At least she's protecting her identity?

Pure Crack.

Ah, sweet, sweet crack! I giggled during the story. Marinette is “fucking Ladybug” indeed. At least her classmates are supportive! 

---

See This Chance by @19thsentry-blog

Luka died in 2016. Yep. Crushed by the Arc de Triumph when Mayura’s Robustus slammed into it. It was kind of a big deal, but once you’re dead, you’re dead—especially when there’s no Lucky Charm to bring you back.

Luka’s been dealing with it in the typical ways.

Written for FeLuka week 2023.

Yes, this is FeLuka. Not one of the typical ships I read, but I ain’t opposed to it, and this is a nice foray into the pairing. I love ghost AUs! Luka’s just fumbling around, unsure what to do with his incorporeal existence, until he starts haunting Felix. It’s an intriguing plot and I gotta admit, I wish it was longer so it could be fleshed out more, but what’s here is good.

---

Confession Plans of Questionable Sanity by yellow14

Nathanael Kurtzberg has a confession to make. He's in love with his big classmate Ivan. With the help of Marc, Marinette, Adrien and Nino, he's going to confess, using increasingly complicated schemes.

Marc meanwhile, is busy coming up with even more complicated schemes to sabotage those schemes so he can confess HIS feelings for his redheaded friend.

Nothing could POSSIBLY go wrong with this, right?

Written for the March 2023 gift exchange on the Miraculous Fanworks Discord forum for CassieTheweirdWolf.

This fic’s just really funny. These kids love to make things waaaaay harder than they need to be. But hey, everything ends up working out in the end, even if it’s not the way they planned!

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at our wedding by @anna-scribbles

“Chloé,” Adrien said slowly, “At our wedding, are we gonna have to…”

“No!” Chloé shook her head firmly. “We don’t have to kiss. We can do whatever we want. It’s our wedding.”

“Oh, good,” Adrien sighed.

“You have to kiss at a wedding,” Félix argued.

“I don’t have to do anything and you’re not the boss of me!” Chloé shouted.

“Yeah!” Adrien grinned. He grabbed Chloé’s hand again. “Yeah, it’s our wedding.”

//

Adrien and Chloé, wedding planning through the years.

Despite what the summary sounds like, this is NOT a Chloe/Adrien fic - this concentrates on their platonic relationship (and a bit with Felix, he shows up a few times) throughout the years. I especially liked seeing Chloe’s reaction to Adrien coming to school and making friends besides her, being jealous and feeling abandoned, and how she finally had a breakdown over Adrien somehow staying nice despite everything, while she... hasn’t. It’s a great character study!

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Showing Love by @generalluxun

After the fiasco of Queen Wasp is over, Marinette knows what she had to do. If she just brings Chloé and her mother together, all will be fixed. A mother's love is just the thing to turn Chloé around, and it all must really just be a misunderstanding right?

Nothing else makes sense.

Marinette's mistake was forgetting that life never has to make sense, but she's Ladybug, and when one path closes she finds another.

I love Marinette really comprehending how little Audrey cares about Chloe here, and taking Chloe home with her to show her what a family should be like, reaching out to her even after everything. It’s just really nice.

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the legend of the firefly by @agnes-writes

“She’s… beautiful.

If he were to describe her, he’d say that they bottled summer in her eyes, and painted the night sky in her hair. Her lips are curved into a wistful smile, eyes trailing the thicket of trees where Adrien stands.

Her gaze sets his heart stuttering in his chest as it softens, and Adrien almost believes that look is meant for him.”

OR: A pair of lovers create a romance that transcends time, and leaves a mark like no other.

This is an incredibly well-written folk tale, one that I highly recommend anyone who loves mythological, folktale, fantasy, etc AUs for Adrienette to read! It’s on the shorter side, but woven so perfectly that it packs an outsized punch, and feels like it belongs in one of those collections of folk tales and myths I read as a kid! 

Adrien’s a god, gifting prosperity to those under his protection, but never interacting with them... until a farm girl catches his eye.

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The Cat’s Out of the Purse by The_Rabbit42

Adrien just took the ring off to be safe.

Plagg just got bored and wanted to annoy Tikki.

Rose just opened her purse and SURPRISE!

Ladybug just wants to get the ring back to her partner.

This was a fun fic, never seen Rose and Plagg interact like this before! It’s a treat getting more Rose and Plagg focus in general of course, but I really like their relationship here. Plagg’s really good with his wielders in general, and I love how he emphasizes that while he needs to get back to Chat Noir, while Rose is transformed with him, she’s as much her own wielder as he is. It reminds me of how he acted with Zoe, Plagg’s just a treasure XD

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home is where the fight is by @rosie-b

Nadja Chamack’s voice greeted Adrien as he sat up straight, wiping his clammy hands on his pants and ignoring the black kwami floating by his shoulder.

“—shocked to see our heroine fall in battle today, taking a direct hit from the akuma just as she detransformed. Parisians are torn between blaming Hawk Moth and Cat Walker for their roles in this tragedy, which ultimately revealed the civilian identity of Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Adrien turned off the TV and lowered his head as his vision blurred.

Written for Ladrien June Day 7: Injured

I adore this fic! Which shouldn’t be a a surprise, it’s no secret that I love Sentiadrien Enemies AU. Adrien’s so worried about Marinette getting hurt, and wishes that he could help keep her safer, could tell her what’s really going on or get rid of the ring or something, but he can’t. Still, he IS able to find clever ways around some of his father’s more problematic orders. Loopholes for the win!

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Attack of the Crystal Zombies by @trainsinanime

Kagami had spent more and more time hanging out with Zoé, talking about things like families, expectations and crushes on Marinette. It was only natural, probably, that she would help Zoé practice flirting. That was definitely a great idea.

Granted, the deadly Akuma battle around them was a bit of an issue…

Quality Zoegami fic here! I loved how Kagami kept thinking she was bad at flirting, but it was sure working on Zoe XD. The akuma attack going on around them, interweaving with their conversation, added a bit of spice to the whole affair!

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Closure by @bisexually-finger-guns

After the events of “Trust”, Alya tries to find closure.

I love this. A lot of the time, only the effects of Lila’s lies and manipulation on Marinette is explored, with the feelings of the people she tried to trick and use, with the Miracuclass and Alya in particular, ignored, downplayed, or even used to just rail at the kids for being gullible.

Not so here. Alya gets to go to a school counselor and talk about her feelings about Lila manipulating her, using her. Ladybug even gives her the Fox Miraculous to try a Burn-letter therapy technique on, telling an illusion of Lila everything she wants to say to her in order to get some closure. 

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Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite! by 55Anon

In which Hawkmoth is defeated by a strike.

So basically, Parisians get pissed at Hawkmoth and decide that hey, maybe they can’t stop him themselves, and they can’t just stay entirely positive at all times, but they sure as hell can direct every bit of their hatred and anger at him so that if he akumatizes one of them, they make a beeline for his lair. Hawkmoth didn’t stand a chance against the contempt of Paris!

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All Of Them? Every Single One? by @liiinerle

It turns out that Marinette loves a lot more people than she'd initially thought.

This is hilarious and adorable. Tikki lays out how Marinette has a crush on basically every girl she’s met - and even girls she doesn’t know are girls yet XD. 

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Anchor by @liiinerle

“Marinette. Please take that sabre out of your neck.”

“Right. Thanks. I forgot it was there.” She grabbed hold of the guard and pulled; the blade slid out like it had only been run through butter. After dropping it on the floor, she picked up one of the teacups and picked up a biscuit from a tin she’d brought in; she placed the biscuit on the saucer plate and handed the whole thing to Kagami, who could only really resign herself to accepting it.

-----

Marinette has raised Kagami from the dead, and also happens to be dead herself. It turns out some bad choices were made in the past. But that doesn't mean they'll lead to bad outcomes for them now.

I love this, Marinette’s incredibly blase about being a zombie - which makes sense, given how long she’s had to get used to the idea. And she’s waited so long, tried so hard to bring Kagami back as well, though if she didn’t WANT to be back, she’d accede to that request. Luckily, Kagami doesn’t seem to mind as long as she’s with Marinette XD.

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safe and sound by Lady_Bryght

A crazed fan is stalking Adrien with violent intentions, and Ladybug is determined to protect him. When the school goes on lockdown and Marinette can't transform, she does her best to keep him safe without the use of a miraculous.

So this is a bit of a suspenseful thriller with a twist ending - well, sort of an ending, it’s a oneshot so far with an ambiguous ending that reveals what’s going on, but not how things actually resolve. It’s the sort of story where, after you see the ending, you look back through the story for foreshadowing. Can’t really go much more in detail, without spoiling the twist.

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Worth Your Time by @pearl484-blog

After the events of the Season 4 finale, Adrien leaves a series of voicemails for Felix after learning he is missing. Just because Felix is out of sight, doesn't mean he's out of mind for his cousin.

Entry for Adrien AUGreste prompt: Rings

I’d honestly forgotten about Adrien being told by Amelie that Felix was missing, and how that might have affected him. He doesn’t know that Felix is okay - he just knows that Felix disappeared after giving the Miraculous to Monarch, and that not even his mom (supposedly) knows where he is. So naturally, he fears the worst, and after awhile of leaving voicemails and not getting replies, he almost starts using the voicemails as a diary of sorts about the various events of season 5 - up until Emotion that is, for obvious reasons.

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the less I seek my source for some definitive by katrinette

When the akuma manages to smash a hole in the hull of the colony ship that's supposed to be unbreakable, Ladybug has to take drastic action to keep everyone safe.

This is an interesting sci-fi AU! Ladybug and Chat Noir pilot the last few fighter ships of their colony ship, the only defense against the akumas that keep on appearing and attacking the ship. But when one of the akumas smashes a hole in the ship, well Ladybug is willing to go to extreme measures to make sure everyone doesn’t die from the depressurization - measures that do not include any regard for her own safety, much to Chat’s displeasure.

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Guilty by Association by @rosie-b

Marinette respected Adrien’s strength and courage more and more every day. No matter how many times people threw nasty words or literal tomatoes at him; no matter how many companies refused to work with him anymore; no matter how clear it was becoming that he would never be forgiven for his father’s crimes, he chose to greet new people with a smile and hope that this time, someone would recognize the kind heart hidden behind his hated name.

She wished she’d had the chance to meet him before she’d accidentally ruined his life.

Written for the Ml Writers Guild September event 'back to school'

I love how Marinette keeps reaching out to Adrien, trying to protect him, even if it doesn’t always work. To let him know that she’s in his corner at least. Hawk Moth had to be taken down, but the consequences for Adrien... she never wanted anyone to get hurt in the process. 

---

The Supreme Movers by PearlO_O

Continuation of Tales of Shadybug and Claw Noir.

Adrien and Marinette battle with the emotional aftermath of meeting their alternate selves.

This was an excellent follow-up to the Paris Special! To be clear, the Adrien and Marinette here are Claw Noir and Shady Bug, not the ones from the show we’ve been following all this time. I really liked Adrien and Marinette reflecting and recontextualizing how their parents have been acting in more positive ways, and getting more positive responses in turn, along with them reassessing how they’ve been acting and reaching out to Alya and Nino. There’s this theme of “it doesn’t matter who we were or what mistakes we made, but who we want to be and that we keep moving forward”.

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Keep Me Safe Inside by RoFair

Adrien Agreste, formally known as Claw Noir attempts to get to know the girl he admires behind the mask of the reformed Shadybug. He has a plan, but it is derailed by a blonde bully.

I love how smitten Adrien is with Marinette! He might have a lot of bravado as Claw Noir, but he’s kinda shy as a civilian. Of course, that all goes out the window when Marinette needs help - like when she’s being bullied and is nearing a breakdown.

---

delicate in every way but one by katrinette

When Marinette finds a wanted ad that provokes just enough questions in her mind that she can't help answering it, the reward is sweeter than she could have imagined.

I love the little bit of worldbuilding we get here about vampire society, and Adrien’s usual awkward adorableness in asking Marinette for a certain necessary favor. It’s always neat to see such familiar characterization in a supernatural setting like this.

---

Lost Feather by @a-flaming-idiot

Sabine has always liked and respected Ladybug and Chat Noir. They've always been wonderful heroes and inspirations to all of Paris and she wouldn't trade them for the world. But that isn't to say she didn't begin to get worried when the heroes of Paris made it their mission to destroy all sentimonsters in their path. Though she knew they never would, it was hard to not worry for the safety of her daughter.

I liked this glimpse of what might happen if Marinette was a sentimonster as well! Poor Sabine, of course she’d have nightmares about the Heroes of Paris killing her daughter. While she likes and respects the Heroes and understands why they’ve been killing sentimonsters, given that the ones Shadow Moth spawns often don’t even seem sentient and are wreaking havoc, she’s still afraid for Marinette, that Ladybug might purify her Amok without ever considering that Marinette might be an actual person.

---

Partners in [Chaos] by @aidanchaser

Griffe Noire's needs no excuse to crash a fashion show competition, but when he sees the baker from his favorite bakery is involved, he decides to shift from spreading destruction to a different sort of chaos. He's not ready for her to see through him better than he knows himself.

Remixed from Partners in Clown by MiaBrown

I love Adrien’s portrayal here, how he lies to himself about how bad the cracks are getting, while also relishing them in a way, feeling like he’s living because of the self-harm he’s inflicting every time he unleashes a Cataclysm, it fits with his portrayal in the special. I like Marinette here too, you can see a bit of her vulnerabilities in this piece, though it’s not in her POV so she’s out of focus.

---

Perfect by @deinde_prandium

It’s Adrien and Marinette’s wedding day! On site to ensure the event goes perfectly is their friend and famed wedding planner Kagami Tsuguri, and so far all has been going according to plan. There's just one problem: no one ever told her about Adrien, Marinette, and their struggles with automatic doors. Add to this the fact that Marinette’s determination to play matchmaker between her and a certain wedding singer…

Needless to say, Kagami is not pleased.

This is mostly a Kagami-centric fic, with a touch of Lukagami at the end. I loved the callback to Adrienette’s automatic door troubles, and Kagami and Luka being sneaky XD. 

---

Patrolling with a friend for Christmas by @seasofsilver

Adrien just wanted to gift his Lady some time off and hang out more with Marinette during the festive season - it didn't exactly go to plan, but somehow ended up... better?

This was adorable! Chat Noir tries to give Ladybug a break by recruiting Multimouse to replace her on patrols for a bit, and Ladybug returns the favor by recruiting Aspik to replace Chat. Yep, it’s Snekmouse!

---

Far-Fetched Plans by @cravingcraze

“While that’s true, and I was going to bring that up, I wanted to talk about… when Wishmaker hit you,” he sat up and looked at Felix with… concern? Why was he concerned for him?

“You only care about my secret identity,” Felix deflected. No, there was no way fucking Viperion, Luka Couffaine of all people was worried about him.

(It was hard to imagine anyone working with Ladybug worried about him.)

So this is an intriguing prospect. Gabriel’s forcing Felix to work with him to try and get Ladybug’s and Chat Noir’s Miraculous, something Felix isn’t thrilled about. But Luka finds out Felix’s secret identity, and decides to try and help him to break free.

---

Life with a Stolen Slime by RustyAce

Sharp, dagger-like stabs from his stomach made the small creature whimper as they curled into himself. Hunger. A frequent state he should be used to by now, but a painful one nonetheless. His gelatinous form was nearly a ball as he tried to self soothe himself, with just portions of slime forming ears and a tail that stuck out of his main body. Usually this worked, but the slime made a distressed moan as they pressed their forehead against his glass prison.

Oh, how he wished he could escape this jar he was in. The humans never came often enough to give him enough food, or even to let him out to stretch his legs. No, instead they carefully opened the jar’s lid just enough to slip some disgusting trash into it with some forceps. They, it seemed, did not appreciate his surprisingly sharp bites or scratches when they first brought him here. A shame.

The slime let out a small sigh, their eyes closing in an attempt to fall asleep to ignore his hunger. Perhaps if he fell asleep, he would wake up to them bringing him food.

So this fic is based off the Reverse world presented in the Paris special. Claw Noir’s a small cat-slime that’s being held captive in a jar, until Marinette eventually rescues him and puts him in a bigger container and feeds him better food at least. It’s cute, and it makes me curious about the setting of this story (like where he came from and why humans were keeping him captive, along with how Marinette stumbled across him), and where the story might go from here (this is a oneshot, but I’d love to see this explored more, if you can’t tell).

---

Changeling by @unecoccinellenoire

Gabriel makes the Wish believing that he regretted everything with Adrien. The results suggest that he in fact regrets Adrien

So this is interesting. It’s giving a glimpse into a universe where Gabriel and Emilie never found the Peacock Miraculous, and they (along with Amelie and Colt) just adopted. Which unfortunately meant that Adrien and Felix as we know them never existed, and Gabriel finds that he misses his original son, which is especially acute when interacting with his new adopted son and knowing how much he’s NOT Adrien.

---

Here for now, but I can see the better days by @nirby-wirby

Now, laying on his bed with only the soft light of a bedside lamp illuminating the room, he felt guilt eating at him from inside his chest. His miraculous burned on his finger, a reminder of what he’d given up. Of what had somehow led to his father helping Ladybug and dying in the process. The guilt was suffocating, building more and more until he felt like all that was left of him was guilt.

———— Or: Adrien deals with the grief and guilt of losing his father with some help. Set post-s5 finale and written for the ML Secret Santa Exchange of 2023

I love the support Adrien gets here, both from Nathalie in a more motherly role, and from his friends. He even tells Nathalie his secret identity, which gets her thinking about how badly Adrien got screwed over. Especially with him feeling guilty over Gabriel’s fate, when she knows he has no reason to.

---

Under the Umbrella by @fruitdragon1a

Almost everyone has a soulmate. What are Adrien and Marinette supposed to do when they meet theirs?

ML Secret Santa gift for Mei! Merry Christmas!

Thank you to Now Loading and Rewan Demontay for beta reading this fic!

So this is a version of soulmarks I haven’t seen before. Around age six, soulmates get a soulmark that shows what their soulmate is thinking when they first meet them. Though I guess it doesn’t register while transformed, since it only counts for this one when Adrien and Marinette meet as civilians, and not when they first meet as superheroes.

[ladyofthenoodle]

WIP Reblog Game

thanks for the tag, @kasienda!

If you're like me and you have a million WIPs and are anxious about updating them, play this game!

List the titles your top five priorities for WIP updates (link your fics for new readers!)

An upcoming scene, event, or detail in each fic that you're looking forward to writing

Bonus: make a poll for your followers to vote on which top 5 WIP they are most excited to see an update on!

Then tag 10 writer friends!

My current top five WIP priorities (which are… the 5 wips i have posted, good job me keeping it at 5 😂):

part time soulmate full time problem

lies of attrition

we are the foxes

lead me up the staircase

all’s well chat ends well

What I'm excited about:

i’m super stuck on chapter 4 of this fic, but i’m excited to share the flashback of ladynoir breakup at the beginning of the chapter (that's already written)! and so excited to write the reveal for this one, if i can just get to it (or convince myself to write non-chronologically)

the next few chapters are @wackus-bonkus-maximus so i’m mostly excited to beta the scenes she has coming up. we have some new POVs coming into play the next couple chapters that i am so eager to see her write. and then when it’s my turn again we have an adrinette scene that i’m dying to dig into.

tbh this one is mostly on hiatus until part time soulmate is done and i’ve been trying not to think about it 🙈

yes it’s been more than a year since my last update but i LOVE the ending i have planned for this one

like everybody reading it, i’m probably most excited for when adrien finally gets an invite to the server…. but it’s so much fun keeping him out of it that i’m going to delay our satisfaction as long as possible 😉

Poll time!

No pressure tags:

@chocoluckchipz @bittersweetresilience @jattendschaton @anna-scribbles @cakemousse @sariahsue @mozzygan @marimbles @h-sunnywet-d @into-september

sorry if any of yall have been tagged already i'm doing my best

[ronaldofandom]

Forever, and for always!

And, after a few titbits, the proposal fic is up :)

Written at the request of a few readers. And also because I missed writing about my babies.

Summary: Bheem wants to ask Jenny to marry him. He's shit nervous and takes help from Ram & Sita. Then, he proposes in the most 'Bheem' way possible. This is fluff & fluff & more fluff.

................................................................

‘Anna - meet me riverside. It’s a matter of life and death.’

Ram had just finished the training session when a kid handed over Bheem’s note to him. The haphazardly scribbled words added to the urgency of the situation. Ram dropped everything and galloped towards the river, bracing himself for the worst. Ready to go on absolute rampage if anyone had dared to hurt Bheem.

His eyes scanned all directions, searching from pillar to post. When he finally spotted Bheem, he dashed towards him.

‘What…what’s wrong? What happened? I came as quickly as I could.’

Bheem looked curiously at Ram. The man was bent over, his hands on his knees, desperately trying to catch his breath.

Ram had also gotten the chance to look Bheem over. He didn’t seem physically hurt, thankfully, and there didn’t seem to be any imminent danger either. What was the issue then? Why did Bheem scare the living daylights out of him with that note?

‘Anna - why are you panting?’

Ram was more than mildly irritated by the question.

‘Isn’t it obvious? I came running because you said it’s a matter of life and death.’

Bheem looked guilty. Instantly. And Ram started to get irked by the look.

‘Well, what is it then? Spill. NOW.’

Bheem started to pace around the area, nervously. The man was driving Ram nuts.

‘I…uh…I am thinking about asking Jenny to marry me.’

Ram processed the information for a few seconds. Then picked up a pebble and hurled it at Bheem. It was small enough to not hurt but large enough to at-least sting.

Bheem rubbled his hurt shoulder, and gaped at Ram, all crestfallen and confused.

‘THAT was a matter of life and death? THAT? Do you have any idea what all went through my mind in the last 6 minutes? DO YOU?’

Bheem looked down sheepishly. He should have worded the note better, instead of letting his heart overpower his judgement.

A few more cuss words and bear hugs and puppy eyes later, Ram’s mood improved markedly and he calmed down enough to focus  on the matter at hand.

‘What exactly is bothering you, Bheem? Tell me.’

Bheem started to pace up and down again, making Ram dizzy.

‘You remember how you had told me to give her time to get acclimatised? To not pop the question too soon? To not put her in a spot where she feels compelled or pressured to make a choice?’

‘Yes I said that. Because you wanted to propose marriage to her two days after you guys said ‘I love you’ to each other.’

Ram rolled his eyes in annoyance at the memory. He believed he had saved Bheem from falling off a cliff with that herculean stupid idea of his.

Bheem paused the frenzied pacing abruptly and held Ram’s shoulders.

‘Exactly. I did all that you said. I waited. Patiently. I didn’t blurt out or hinted anything. Not even once. I stayed mum all this while. But Anna, it’s been 3 months since we have been together. I…I think we are ready to take the next step. What do you think?’

For the first time that evening, and in a long time, Ram smiled. Fondly. While shaking his head at Bheem.

‘My sweet brother - how could I be the judge of that? Only you two could know where you are in your relationship.’

‘That’s not true. You know her world better than me. You can see things from her lens. If she hadn’t been here, if it hadn’t been me but one of….well….those white men, would they have waited 3 months or more to pop the question? What’s the norm?’

Ram smiled even more, irking Bheem this time.

‘Glad my troubles are amusing to you.’

Bheem huffed and crossed his hands across his chest.

‘Oh no no, it’s not like that. It’s just funny that of all the people in this world, you decided to come to ME for relationship advice. I am laughing at the irony, not you.’

Bheem just shrugged in response. Ram was the smartest person he knew, and he trusted him with his life. So ofcourse he had gone to Ram for advice. Plus, Ram had saved him from quite a few faux-pas during his whirlwind romance. And, he had asked Sita to marry him. Surely he would have some pearls of wisdom to offer.

‘Look Bheem, no part of this is as per the norm. While you made your courtship official to the tribal council, her living together with you all these months is not the accepted practice in her world. In fact, it would be frowned upon and would cause immense uproar in her family. She has defied every rule set for her by following you here, so that shouldn’t be your benchmark. Your relationship has moved at a very different pace. You both have been through a lot, in this short span of three months. Forget the norm, just ask yourself if you think she is ready.’

Bheem was dreading this answer. Frankly, he didn’t want to rely just on his own heart. If he had followed his stupid heart, he would have foolishly proposed three months back itself.

Ram saw his inner turmoil through his transparent face.

‘Ok - let’s go through a few parameters. She wanted to be more self-reliant, right? To learn the ways of your world. How do you think she fares in that now?’

‘Frankly, she has surprised me. Surpassed all my assumptions. She has been the most diligent student, Anna. In household stuff and outside stuff alike. I don’t need to tell you that, since you have already graduated her from knife training to a revolver. She has picked up the language so quickly. All day, she busies herself in one thing or another. As if wanting to do a crash course on everything related to my world. Long story short, I don’t believe that to be an issue anymore.’

Ram nodded in agreement. Jenny was one of the best students he ever had. He had seen her evolve rapidly in all departments.

‘Great. Now, what about communication? She wanted you to share more with her, about your troubles, and not keep shielding her from the sad realities. Where do you guys stand on that?’

Bheem paused for introspection. After that massive and near-terminal fight at the beginning, they had started to communicate better. It had taken conscious effort, on both sides, to not let their insecurities affect what they said to each other. To actually share things as they were. Because the unspoken things were doing more harm than good.

‘Yes, we learnt it the hard way but we are fine now.’

‘Super. What about her health? You were worried initially about her adapting to the climate and food.’

‘That’s settled too. She got a few bouts of fever and food poisoning initially but that I had anticipated. Since then, she has adapted well.’

Ram nodded his head silently, while going through the checklist in his mind. There wasn’t much else to ask. All of their initial hiccups in the relationship seemed to have been sorted. There was one elephant in the room, though. Ram decided to address it head on.

‘Finally, Bheem, are you over the stupid notion that you don’t deserve her? That she would walk away any day, wanting no more of this life with you?’

Bheem’s mood suddenly turned solemn and his face fell. Ram had to resist the urge to offer physical comfort.

‘Anna, to be honest, I don’t think that fear will go away fully. Ever. I think she knows it too. But she has shown me in her own way how much she…loves me. And that this isn’t some exotic adventure for her. She has given her all and more to our relationship. So, I don’t want to let this fear rule my life anymore.’

This time, Ram couldn’t stop himself from hugging his little pumpkin. The pumpkin hugged back instantly. Separating after a few pats on the back.

‘In that case, my friend, you are ready. Go and make me proud.’

Panic hit Bheem, suddenly.

‘Go? What do you mean go? I can’t just say it like that. What would I even say? What should I do? I should do something, right? I can’t just ask this plainly. It has to be special, how do I make it special? Why are you looking at me like that, Anna? What should I do?’

‘That is not my department. You should ask the wise one.’

‘Yes, Sita would know. Surely, she would know what to do. I will go find her now. Oh Anna, thanks a ton.’

Bheem crushed Ram in a bear hug, his excitement palpable from his every move.

Before galloping away to find Sita, Bheem turned around to look at Ram one final time.

‘Anna - she won’t say no, right?’

‘Bheem, the only question is, how quickly will she say yes. My guess is under a second. Unless there are tears. From both sides. You are going to cry, aren’t you?’

‘I shall neither confirm nor deny that.’

With that, Bheem ran away to find Sita. Leaving Ram in an uncharacteristically pleasant mood.

Sita had just finished her chores for the afternoon, and was sitting under the banyan tree near her hut, knitting for the village new-borns.

Bheem whooshed past her in his rush, only turning back when he heard her singing.

Sita was initially alarmed to see Bheem so frenzied, but he quickly assured her that all was well.

She patted to the makeshift bench next to her, and Bheem sat down, nervously wriggling his fingers.

‘Where were you all day? I made kheer. Was looking for you but you were nowhere to be found.’

‘Ahh I was caught up in something. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.’

‘Let me get you some kheer. Then we will talk.’

Bheem didn’t protest. A little kheer won’t do anyone any harm.

Sita returned shortly with the creamy delicacy, which Bheem gobbled in 5 bites, licking around his mouth for any leftovers. Sita smiled fondly at his antics.

‘So, what did you want to talk about?’

Bheem looked down & quickly repeated what he had told Ram, about his intentions to marry Jenny. In some ways, Sita’s thoughts would be more insightful here since she was the closest to Jenny here, after him.

When there was silence for the next few moments, Bheem looked up to find moistness in Sita’s eyes.

She cupped his face gently, and dropped an affectionate peck to his forehead.

‘Oh dear, you have no idea how happy that made me. I am sooo thrilled for my friend. And I am equally overjoyed for you, my sweet Bheem. You two deserve all the happiness in the world. May god save you from all evil eyes. My love and blessings will always be with you both.’

Sita held his hands, while saying all the prayers for the couple. Bheem couldn’t help but smile at this pure soul. Her nobility, her kindness, her wisdom, and her resolve was second to none. Truly, a goddess reincarnated. Sometimes, Bheem saw traces of his mother’s care and affection in her. He was very fond of Sita and always held her in high regard.

She was also as intuitive as his mother, quickly sensing his hesitation.

‘What’s troubling you, Bheem? Your smile isn’t fully reaching your eyes.’

‘Sita - you know her as well as I do. Tell me - is this the right time? Will I overwhelm her by asking now? Should I wait some more. I don’t…I am not going to do anything which causes her any stress.’

‘I will tell you what I feel. But before that, tell me, what does your heart say?’

‘I feel marriage is just a nomenclature for us now. We are already married in our hearts. But still, this is very important for me. And I know that she believes in marriage too. I just want her to be mine, in every way humanly possible. That’s what I feel.’

Sita smiled serenely at the adorable person she loved like a brother. They must have been siblings in a previous life.

She reached out and held his hand.

‘Here is what I think. She has been in this world for 21 years but she has truly lived in the last one year, since she has met you. And especially the last three months. Her hopes, fears, prayers, trepidations, pretty much all sentiments are linked to you, Bheem. She never thought this could be a reality, that you would ever love her back like she did. Every day, she thanks her stars for bringing you to her. Every effort she has made to assimilate and adapt here has all been for you.’

Bheem felt a lump in his throat, too overcome with emotion to say anything. She squeezed his hand lightly and continued.

‘Her time here has not been without challenges. You know that. But what you may not know is how much she appreciates you letting her navigate her own path. To make her own choices. Bheem - when you understood her hesitations about motherhood, it meant the world to her. When you let her fall, get hurt, get lost sometimes while learning this way of life, that support is all she needs. It shows her that you see her. You hear her. You understand her. You support her. You respect her. We all know how much that has hurt you, to let her go through any kind of pain, which is why she is all the more grateful. Her world begins and ends with you, my dear Bheem - there is no need to have any second thoughts.’

Bheem hung on to every word, smiling through his hazy eyes. Sita’s validation is what he needed. He had no doubt that Jenny loved him as unconditionally and irrevocably as he loved her. It hadn’t been easy but they had gotten here. What they had was so special, he couldn’t afford to make any stupid move to mess that up.

Grateful, he beamed back at Sita, who was wiping her eyes with her pallu and smiling like an idiot at the same time.

They brainstormed on how best to tell Jenny. And the things Bheem wanted to do to make the occasion even more special. Sita had a ton of ideas, Bheem loved them all. He had only two ideas but Sita cried again when she heard them. Clarifying between sobs that they touched her heart.

‘Oh Bheem, Jenny is so so lucky. Yes, please go ahead with both. I will help with the logistics.’

They were going to need at-least two days to execute the plan. Once all the details were finalised, Bheem looked at her earnestly.

‘I can’t thank Anna and you enough. Without you both, I would never have had the courage to do what I am going to do.’

‘One second, you asked Ram for suggestion? OUR RAM?’

‘Umm, yes?’

‘You do know he proposed to me when we were half asleep, after a harrowing day and a tumultuous fight, out of nowhere right?’

‘But you said yes, didn’t you?’

She sighed, resigned.

‘Yes. Yes, I did.’

‘I think that qualifies as mission accomplished.’

‘Yeah, whatever.’

They spent few more lazy moments together, then went their own ways. There was a lot to do.

Two days passed. And the D-Day was here.

Bheem was in Sita’s hut and they were cross-checking if everything was in place. Once Sita was satisfied, she kept the bag aside and held Bheem by his shoulders. Both smiled at each other. Both looked like absolute lunatics to Ram, who was observing their histrionics from a distance.

But when Sita put tilak on Bheem’s forehead and fed him some sweet curd, for good omen, Ram couldn’t help himself from chiming in.

‘Sita, he is not going on a war, for heaven’s sake.’

Both pair of eyes turned on him, Sita’s more annoyed than Bheem’s, obviously.

Ram looked away, muttering under his breath.

‘Bheem, ignore this robot. He can take his cynicism and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. You go on. I will wait to hear the good news.’

After a comforting and reassuring hug from Sita, Bheem headed out, smiling at the faint bickering between Ram-Sita in the background. Holding the bag close to his chest. Trying to relive all the pep talk from the last few days, to not panic.

But alas, Jenny wasn’t in the hut. Where could she go at this time?

He looked around, trying to keep a lid on his paranoia. Just then, a neighbour told him she had seen her near the well in the village courtyard.

And there she was. Frolicking with toddlers in the makeshift pool created for them, since these children were too young to bathe in the stream or the river.

She had a one year old in her lap, who was too young to even dip in this pool. So, she was splashing him with tiny droplets while he was bouncing in her arms. The other kids took advantage of the distraction and splashed her with fists full of water. Their giggles sounded like a song of nature. A celebration of freedom. An expression of pure unadulterated bliss.

Bheem stood in the shadows, admiring the scene. He should take her swimming soon. Last time, the river current had been too much for Jenny. She was used to swimming in pools and lakes but not in running water. So she had clung to him the whole time, head to toe, not letting go for a second. The memory made him all fuzzy.

Bheem couldn’t wait anymore and called out to Jenny. She waved back happily, safely returned the infant to his mother, bid goodbye to the other kids and semi-hopped towards him. Just when he thought she couldn’t get any more adorable.

Seeing her with toddlers always tugged at his heart strings. A strange desire mixed with ache. A hope for a family, if and when the notion appeals to her.

‘Hello hello. Earth to Bheem. Where are you lost?’

They were walking back, hand in hand. Jenny was chattering away, but Bheem was too lost in his imaginations to register her pearly voice.

Pearly voice. Bheem was amused as to how he had an adjective for everything related to her.

‘You had a good day?’

‘Oh it was absolutely lovely. I was walking by and the kids just dragged me in. You could have joined us in the merrymaking.’

She elbowed him lightly, glancing up at him. He seemed a bit lost today and she wondered if everything was well.

‘I have other plans for us today. But before that, let’s get you changed. You are soaking wet right now.’

She hummed and rested her head on his shoulder, lacing their fingers together.

Upon reaching the hut, Jenny started to pick up a change of clothing, when Bheem gently held her wrist.

‘Umm I have brought something for you. A saree. Will you wear that for me?’

‘Awww my darling. That’s so sweet. Ofcourse I will wear it now. But, how come this all of a sudden? Anything special today?’

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he held her close and looked straight into her eyes.

‘Every moment with you is special. You make it special, by just being with me.’

He said it so earnestly, so matter-of-factly that she nearly forgot to breathe for a few seconds, losing her way in his eyes.

When she went to take out the garments from the bag, Bheem jumped & took the bag out of her reach, handing her the red blouse and petticoat sheepishly. She looked at him curiously, convinced that he was up to something, but decided to play along.

While she changed in the adjoining chamber, Bheem bounced around the hut, praying to all gods known to mankind. Praying to his parents, seeking their blessings.

He also did a few squats, push-ups to dissipate the nervous every plaguing his body. He was in the middle of a headstand when he heard the door open, losing his balance and falling flat on his face with a loud thud. Thankfully, she didn’t see any of it.

Jenny walked out, knocking the wind out of his chest. The red blouse, fitted to perfection, a perfect match for her radiant skin. The petticoat around her slender, smooth, curvy lower waist. Her damp hair dangling over one shoulder, while she ran her fingers through them to sort the messy strands.

‘Help me with this please? I can’t reach it.’

She turned her back to him, pointing to the thread to tie the blouse.

Bheem’s fingers slid up her part-bare back, of their own volition, and tied the thread gently. Checking on the sturdiness of the knot by pulling at it with his teeth. Enjoying her resulting shudder & goosebumps.

Sliding an arm over her waist, he turned her around, admiring her from head to toe. He was particularly proud of the fit of the blouse, given he had relied solely on his memory for the measurements. She realised it too & glanced away, trying to hide her fluster.

Finally, he pulled out the saree from the bag and she clapped in delight. It was a traditional Indian red & white saree. Jenny had been longing for one since she had seen it on a few women in Delhi during festivities. But only Sita knew about her fondness for it. And ofcourse she had told Bheem. Ofcourse.

Draping the saree was an adventure. Neither knew how to do it properly. Bheem knew the mechanics but actually doing the pleats was far more complicated than the concept of it. She helped however she could, letting her body loose like a doll for him to manoeuver, as he figured out which side to pull the pallu from. They laughed and giggled through it all.

The end result was quite close to a saree. Atleast that’s what they both insisted. Sita would have disagreed, ofcourse.

Bheem was far from being done. He sneaked into that suspicious bag again and pulled out a set of jhumkis, a waist chain, a red bindi and a gajra. Donning them all on her carefully, like she was made of rose petals.

Mesmerised, she just followed his movements. Every little thing he had picked to adorn her body was perfect. Stunning. He was dressing her up like a devoted priest would dress a goddess before the temple opening every morning. Readying her to be worshipped. The lump in her throat grew.

‘B-Bheem, all this….what’s happening?’

The way he looked at her then, she knew something momentous was going to happen.

Bheem held her hands, bringing them to his eyes first, and then to his lips, finally keeping them close to his chest, letting her feel his rapidly thumping heart.

‘Do you hear what it is saying?’

He pressed her hands further into his chest. She looked at him pleadingly, voice cracking in her throat.

‘Bangaram, it’s saying that it belongs to you, now and forever. For this life and the next six. You own my heart. You own my life. You own my soul, Jenny.’

Jenny leaned forward and lightly brushed her lips against his while pressing their foreheads together.

‘I…I know, my love.’

She whispered against his lips. Then stepped back to communicate the same through her eyes.

‘It is also scared. Not as scared as earlier, though, when it used to not feel deserving enough of you. Because you made it believe that you did love this fool back. You made the fears go away. You made it dream. You made it fly. You made it hope. You made it full. You made it worthy. You made it your home.’

Jenny tried hard to rein in her emotions but tears had started to drop from the corner of her eyes. He kissed away a few. She was shaking, as was he. They continued to cling to each other for support.

‘It’s scared because without you, it will suffocate to death. It won’t know how to function, how to get by. It doesn’t recollect what life used to be before you, or if that was any life at all. It can not imagine a life without you. You made it greedy, bangaram. Because now, it wants you fully. Exclusively. Forever.’

She desperately gripped his shoulder for support and started to respond, but he placed his palm over her lips.

‘If you say something now, I would lose the strength to continue. I am not good with words jaan, you know that.’

Jenny broke into a helpless giggle. Man had the audacity to say that after putting Jane Austen to shame with his ballad of love. But she nodded nonetheless, asking him to continue.

What he did next made her head reel.

Bheem went down on one knee, looking up at her with all the love he could muster.

‘I have wanted to do this since the day I told you I loved you. It felt right then. It feels right now. You are the light of my life, the centre of my universe, the reason for my existence. I want to grow old with you, Jenny.’

He pulled out the last item from the bag. A pair of gold-plated bangles that belonged to his mother. Jenny knew what those were; he had told her it was the only belonging of his mother that he had. That his father had given her on the day Bheem was born. It looked recently polished but Jenny was certain it was the same pair. Her heart threatened to burst out of her chest.

‘I know you know what these are and what they mean to me. All I can say is, you mean as much now, as she did. Amma would have loved for you to have these. I wish she was here. I wish she had given these to you herself. But I know she is smiling up there, watching over us.’

Jenny felt like she would combust any moment. She pinched herself a few times to ensure it wasn’t a dream.

‘Jenny Buxton, would you make me the happiest being to ever exist on this earth, by being mine forever? By….by being my wife?’

She fell down on her knees, throwing her arms around him, almost toppling him with the impact. She cupped his face and kissed him all over, like her life depended on it, whispering ‘yes’ with each kiss.

It took Bheem fifteen yes to finally believe it. When he did, he pulled her into his lap, kissing her back as desperately and passionately. When they parted after what seemed like an eternity, he held her wrists and slid the bangles lovingly on them.

He found her beautiful always. But today was extra special. No goddess, no angel, no divine being could match up to her glow today. He wanted her to see what he was seeing. So he took her in front of the full length mirror, that he had especially gotten for her (with immense efforts) when she had come to Adilabad.

She stood there, fiddling with the fabric and all the ornaments, quite pleased with herself too.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind, as Bheem buried his head into the side of her neck, which she could both feel and see through the mirror. His fingers started to play with the chain on her waist, as he nibbled around her neck and shoulder.

‘You could wear this saree on our wedding. It has both red and white. To represent both our cultures and marriage traditions.’

Jenny had to close her eyes, and not just because she was feeling dizzy with all his ministrations. Every-time she thought this man couldn’t get any more thoughtful, he did something like this.

She traced his arm which was wrapped around her waist, playing with the hair there. While her other hand reached back to caress his bearded cheek. He immediately leaned into her palm, nuzzling against it.

‘I want to take your name.’

He paused and looked up. Their eyes met through the mirror.

‘I don’t wanna be Jenny Buxton after the wedding. I want to take your name. I want everything a married woman has with her husband. Everything.’

Jenny didn’t know why that statement generated such fire in Bheem. He seemed to be undressing her with his eyes now, through the mirror. She had to break the gaze and look away.

His hands became more urgent, more insistent, roaming all over, turning her into a hot mess.

‘Since you have to wear this attire on our wedding, maybe we should keep it safe and take it off, yes?’

‘Oh, ‘we’ should take it off is it?’

She managed to find her voice.

‘Yes. It’s a two-person job.’

‘Uh-huh.’

Bheem took it atrociously slow, taking his time to undo her piece by piece. Not letting her help. Pinning her wrists in one hand.

He planned to only leave the bangles on her.

Just then, a loud knock on the door interrupted his flow.

‘Anna - the recce team is back from Hyderabad. Should I tell them you will meet them now?’

Bheem took a few deep breaths. The messenger was just doing his job, he didn’t want to yell at him.

Jenny was amused, observing his reaction. Pressed up close to him, she felt the state he was in and knew he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

‘Tell them I will come later.’

‘Ok. Should I tell them 15 minutes?’

‘15 MINUTES? Tell them one hour.’

He thought for a second, then called out again.

‘Actually, make that two hours. Go, tell them right now.’

The messenger scuttled away quickly, wanting to relay Bheem’s message ASAP.

And Bheem went back to celebrating his engagement with the love of his life. As planned, he left only the bangles on her. Loving the way they looked. The way they felt as she wrapped her arms around his neck. As her hands gripped his shoulders, his arms, his back, his face.

He just wanted to indulge in her attentions, immerse in her softness, drown in her love. Other things could wait. Other people could wait. Today was just for the two of them. The day that neither would forget for as long as they live. The day where they committed to be each other’s. Forever, and for always.

.................................................................

That was it, folks. Hope you liked it. Would love to hear your thoughts, as always!

@irisesforyoureyes @rambheem-is-real @thewinchestergirl1208 @eremin0109 @eenadu-varthalu @rorapostsbl @yehsahihai @budugu @maraudersbitchesassemble @justmeand-myinsight @rambheemisgoated @rosayounan @jrntrtitties @obsessedtoafault @rambheemlove @jjwolfesworld @alikokinav @iam-siriuslysher-lokid @dumdaradumdaradum @lovingperfectionwonderland

@chaanv @ssabriel @milla984 @kaagazkefool @boochhaan @mesimpleone @filesbeorganized @ladydarkey @teddybat24 @stanleykubricks @burningsheepcrown @veteran-fanperson @ronika-writes-stuff @beingmes-blog @yonderghostshistories @nisreenart @chaidrivenwhore @bheemaxrama @umbrulla @mizutaama @rosefulmadness @gifseafins @fangirlshrewt97 @voidsteffy @maooyinysparkle @amalthea9 @vijayasena @stars-in-the-distance @astrafangs

[jattendschaton]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you so much @ladyofthenoodle for tagging me! I love being part of things 🥺 <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

On my main account there are 37 publicly posted

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

Main account has 207,377, but if I included the other account and my unpublished stuff it's 280,000+

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly Miraculous Ladybug, but I have dabbled in others!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

honestly it was embarrassing to list these out :'):'):')

Out of the Closet Dropping All Pretenses On Open Secret electrify me, i'm dying to burn knowing you

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Most of the time I do! I dont tend to respond to rude comments anymore and sometimes I dont know what to say, but I try to respond to most comments!! I feel so lucky to receive any of them, I just want the commenter to know how much I appreciate them <3<3 There has been at least one time when I was so overwhelmed with a lovely comment that I never responded because I just liked looking at it so much 🙈 but that person was also a friend of mine so I did express to them privately how much their comment meant to me

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

For published fic, definitely whistle stop. I have written a lot of other angsty stuff though that will never see the light of day </3

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

I feel like after a certain point, they're all kind of equally happy in their endings, but I guess live chat? I dont know though, I really dont tend to reread my fics

8. Do you get hate on fics?

ajskdljkl yes I have gotten hate on fics before

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope!

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I dont think I've written anything that would classify as a crossover

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! I don't think the translation is up anymore but it was like my second or third fic and I was over the moon that someone liked it enough to put in the time to translate it!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not seriously. I've been part of a few projects where we were going to cowrite a fic together that never ended up getting finished and I've set up a document to cowrite a fic with a friend that we never did anything with :/ I'd love to co-write a fic though, I think it's so cool when people collaborate like that!

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Lovesquare and original ot4 of Alyadrininette <3

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

As far as published works from my main account there are a lot :') but the one that hurts the most is probably Where the Devils Are rip

16. What are your writing strengths?

I don't really have an answer for this!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

asjdjkl if I dwell on this too long I will never write another sentence so I'm also going to skip this one!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I think it's really cool when other people who are multilingual do it! I've dropped a word or two in when it felt right, but otherwise I personally stay away from writing it because I lack the knowledge to do it justice. I do sometimes make up languages for magic purposes, though!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

First fandom I published fanfic for was Miraculous Ladybug!

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

asjdklf ahhhh I have no response to this because I dont reread my writing. I think probably the closest thing I have to a favorite at any point in time is whichever one I wrote the most recently

tagging: @rosekasa @marimbles @picayunearts @emsylcatac @anna-scribbles @talkstoself (no pressure to anyone tagged if you dont want to do it of course, I'd just always love to see more stuff about your writing!) and anyone else who'd like to participate! I know it can be kind of sad if no one tags you in one of these things and you wanted to do it so just let me know and I will add you <3

[nikoisme]

You are one of the main reasons I think about Hector every now and then, which is why I'm throwing this thing at you in particular.

Imagine that I'm sending you a paper plane with some of my scribbles)))

Anna Akhmatova has a poem called "Песня последней встречи" ("Song of the last meeting") from 1911 and it was recently made into a song as a tribute to her by @polnalyubvi (the result is incredibly beautiful, definitely check it out, it's available on YouTube)

This poem and this song give me some Hector and Andromache vibes, especially the last verse:

Это песня последней встречи.

Я взглянула на темный дом.

Только в спальне горели свечи

Равнодушно-желтым огнем.

(This is the song of the last meeting.

I glanced at the dark house.

Only in the bedroom the candles were burning

With an indifferent yellow flame)

Hector was going to fight Achilles and Andromache was going to watch him go the way she always did: praying he will return the way he always has. She knows she cannot stop him. Still, it takes tremendous effort to not run after her husband and drag him back. Back behind the city walls, back to their chambers, to their child's crib. To safety. To hold her love close and not let go. This brave, strong, tired man. Oh, he's so tired... He looks exhausted every time she sees him. Andromache alone is allowed so close to him, to see her husband on the verge of falling apart, before the heir of Troy pulls himself back together and leaves again. Andromache is tired too.

Those feelings - fear and dread that followed them everywhere at the beginning of this war - are still so vivid, yet now they're also dull: there's resignation added to the mix. Hector leaves and Andromache watches him go. She glances at Apollo's shrine once her husband disappears from the view. The lamps burn the same way they always do. Apollo is the god of prophecy, he knows what's coming, and yet his golden eyes say nothing... Or at least not anything most people could see. One person sees it, but this time she is silent too, her voice means nothing anyway...

It all feels so unfair, but then again, how dare the mortals question gods and fates?

(p.s. this is just my imagination, I haven't read the Iliad yet, so forgive me, if this is not the vibe)

yES!! THIS IS THE LEGACY I WANT!!

But

WHy mUST YOU HURT ME LIKE THIS. THIS IS BEAUTIFUL. THE POEM??? YOUR WORDS??? AGHRRH. My heart can only take so muchh

Once you start thinking about Hector you never really stop. Prepare your mind for the most heartbreaking of thoughts

[miabrown007]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

I have been tagged for this by an astonishing amount of people, thank you for thinking of me @chocoluckchipz @ladyofthenoodle @kasienda @rosie-b and @burntwaffle12! 💜

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

58 (+ 1 in hiding because past me couldn't handle having unfinished fics fdgh)

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

333,162 words (+ about 80k of heist AU will be joining this slowly)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Miraculous Ladybug (I have fics for Harry Potter and The Inheritance Games but I don't really consider myself someone who actively writes for those fandom)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Hiding in Plain Sight

don't ask questions you don't wanna know

seven is my lucky number

Save You a Seat

17 days, 2 hours and some odd minutes

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! I wrote all that and someone decided to write back and discuss it with me? of course I will!

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

hmm, maybe hold your friends close (but your enemies closer)? but I do regularly get yelled at when someone at the Writers Guild remembers the flowers that we've grown together, so that's a win too

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

probably seven is my lucky number with the sappiest-happiest ending. though the ending that makes me the happiest must be that of Felonies and Other Love Languages

8. Do you get hate on fics?

not really *knocks on wood*

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

no because I'm a coward 😭 (also writing smut is so hard! though it is known that ace people write the best, so maybe I'm naturally talented and just don't know it)

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

not really. in Lost & Found the Teen Titans kind of adopt Adrien but they don't have dialogue because it's not a proper crossover. similarly, in Fighting Dragons with You Cedric Diggory is mentioned and Dramione is canon (to me), but all of that has zero impact on the plot

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that I know of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes, a few to Russian

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

yes, I tried it a couple times, but only one fic of those did we ever finish.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

love-square!

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

fdgfhj all of my WIPs at the moment? 😂 honestly it would be so nice to have (no one can) rewrite the stars finished (that's my hidden fic, ladrien dating/marichat soulmates), but I don't think I'll ever be excited about it enough again to go back and rewrite the 20k chilling in my docs that I planned to do after realizing the current setup wasn't the best it could be

16. What are your writing strengths?

planning, keeping details in check. I usually tinker enough with details that there's not many inconsistencies left. also, I think I'm good with dialogue and usually with the pacing of information

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

not stressing over how something is phrased and putting down actual words instead. it makes writing so excruciatingly slow and sometimes stressful that I want to get things perfect. also, descriptions are so hard, because I don't want to describe things plainly or in a dull way, but finding interesting ways takes a lot of effort.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I have done it, but honestly most of the time you're probably better off using italics.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Felonies and Other Love Languages <333

tagging @valiantlyjollynightmare @noirshitsuji @sunfoxfic @peachcitt @anna-scribbles if you feel like playing <3

[ts1989fanatic]

The NYT should be ashamed of its gross Taylor Swift op-ed speculating she’s a lesbian

By Johnny Oleksinski

It never ceases to amaze me what the New York Times will devote thousands of words to.

But even the criminally verbose Gray Lady shocked everybody last week when it published an out-of-its-mind 4,764-word op-ed analyzing why Taylor Swift might be a lesbian or bisexual.

Yes, the equivalent of 13 pages of a novel was spent on a yucky wild goose chase to out a famous woman who has a famous boyfriend.

No, we’re not back in homophobic 1985. It’s still supposedly enlightened 2024!

If you read that highfalutin crock in the morning paper, you’d be forgiven for thinking you were still asleep — it was that bonkers.

As I cross-country skied through the endless article, many questions popped up.

An opinion piece in the New York Times speculated that Taylor Swift could be a lesbian or bisexual.

How did a creepy, irresponsibly speculative analysis of years of pop lyrics, flamboyant costumes and out-of-context interview quotes wind up in a publication that once ran a lofty ad campaign proclaiming, “Truth. It’s more important now than ever.”?

How was the following sentence allowed to run in the New York Times opinion section? “What if the ‘Lover Era’ was merely Ms. Swift’s attempt to douse her work — and herself — in rainbows, as so many baby queers feel compelled to do as they come out to the world?”

Why are readers paying for the Times when they can get this “Is she? Isn’t she?” garbage on TikTok for free?

And most pressingly: Why is it not enough for Swift to be one of the best-selling music artists of all time, an unrivaled businesswoman in the entertainment industry and an unflinching LGBTQ ally? Why must she be wedged into some opinion writer’s head-in-the-clouds narrative that dreams Swift would come out and be a “hero” to queer people? What’s so wrong about her being a straight white woman who makes great music?

Why must Taylor Swift be everything for everybody?

A Swift source told CNN, “There seems to be no boundary some journalists won’t cross when writing about Taylor, regardless of how invasive, untrue, and inappropriate it is.”

Not only do you need a machete to hack your way through this overgrown opus — writer Anna Marks’ piece is offensive and socially backward for a newspaper that fancies itself the Vatican City of progressive mores.

Start with the headline: “Look What We Made Taylor Do.” Sure, it references Swift’s hit “Look What You Made Me Do,” but it also seems to recklessly conclude that the 34-year-old singer is “queer” even as she denies it.

Says the Times: It’s society’s fault for not letting Taylor be the person we have unilaterally decided she is!

Well, according to Swift, she’s not a member of the LGBTQIA community at all, although she supports them personally and artistically.

A Swift source told CNN, “There seems to be no boundary some journalists won’t cross when writing about Taylor, regardless of how invasive, untrue, and inappropriate it is — all under the protective veil of an ‘opinion piece.’”

Too right.

The Times op-ed cited instances of Swift “dropping hairpins” in music videos, which some perceived is a coded queer message.

By the way, Lady Gaga is also a gay ally and wrote and performed an LGBTQ anthem called “Born This Way,” but she is not yet the subject of a ridiculous, 4,764-word Twitter thread about her private life in the New York Times.

A woman’s insistence is, apparently, not enough for the crackerjack investigators over on 40th Street.

As the op-ed jabbers on, it becomes weirder and weirder, like a thriller movie scene that takes us into a conspiracy theorist’s basement with walls plastered in a celebrity’s photos and scribbled-on newspaper clippings.

Marks mentions instances of “dropped hairpin” imagery in Swift’s music videos and concerts, saying that is a coded message for queer identity: “They suggest to queer people that she is one of us.”

OK. Elsa lets her hair down during “Let It Go” in “Frozen.” Is Elsa also a lesbian who befriends a talking snowman?

The writer adds such incontrovertible bombshells as that the pop star once dyed her locks the colors of the bisexual pride flag and that she often wears rainbow outfits. Call the Pulitzer committee.

Swift’s “Eras Tour” film made $250 million at the worldwide box office.

The whole kooky thing is written in the tone of somebody trying to refute the John F. Kennedy assassination “single bullet theory” in the corner of a bar at 3 p.m.

And yet, as the Times so often does, the writer pretends that the piece is much more important and intellectual than trashy whispers in a supermarket gossip rag.

This part had me in stitches.

“Feverish discussions of her escapades with the latest yassified London Boy or mustachioed Mr. Americana fuel the tabloid press — and, embarrassingly, much of traditional media — that courts fan engagement by relentlessly, unquestioningly chronicling Ms. Swift’s love life.”

Um, what do you call this 4,764-WORD dissection of her sexuality? A doctoral thesis? Please.

Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour concert sold more than $1 billion in tickets and she was named Time’s 2023 Person of the Year.

Most bothersome is that op-eds like these don’t arrive in a publication via the stork. They are pitched to an editor, get approved, take a long time to write (Marks’ last piece for the Times ran in September) and undergo rigorous editing. There are many steps before you actually read it.

So, even if Marks’ article is not the official editorial stance of the Times, giving her the go-ahead to try and out a celebrity as gay in the guise of “the conversation” is damning enough.

In 2023, Swift’s Eras Tour grossed more than $1 billion in ticket sales. The movie of that concert did an additional $250 million at the worldwide box office — a record for a film of a live music performance — and Time magazine rightly named her their Person of the Year.

Remarkable achievements, all.

But over at the New York Times, who cares? They just wish she was gay.

ts1989fanatic:

I don’t often agree with a rag like the New York Post but in this instance I could not agree more. For The New York Times to give any credence let alone publish some 5,000 words speculating on anyone’s sexual identity let alone someone of Taylor’s stature is just shitty journalism.

It doesn’t matter that it was published as an opinion piece it was still published in TNYT and frankly it was poorly written speculation at best.

As a fan of Taylor Swift it makes me cringe when people be it journalists or fans discussing or speculating about her private life and sexuality, it’s nobody’s business but Taylor’s.

[emma-frxst]

The Implicit Demand for Proof (11)

Pairing: Detective David Loki x reader

Summary: you, a forensic psychologist, get called in on a high priority child abduction case in Conyers, PA. What happens when you catch feelings for detective Loki?

Warnings- movie level violence, su*cide guns, language. (I don’t think I’m forgetting anything.)

A/n- alright folks this chapter includes the scene where Bob Taylor dies by su*cide (unalives himself).We will process readers reaction/ Lokis reaction to it and thoughts/feelings about it. I know y’all have seen the movie and know what happens , just giving you fair warning.

A/n 2- this chapter is long as fuck, do with this information as you will.

Series masterlist here

-

“Bob Taylor, I’m agent (L/N) with the FBI.” You said, sitting down at the table across from him.

“So I hear that you told detective Loki you killed Anna” you slid Anna’s picture in front of him. “And Joy.” You did the same with her picture.

He let out a quiet ‘yes’.

“Okay. I’m going to get you a tissue for your bloody nose and a bandaid and then we’re gonna talk, ok?”

He nodded.

After making a psychological profile of Bob, you decided that going in soft would be best. You could tell it was already working. His body language changed almost instantly at your presence. He was less nervous, but nervous nonetheless. He had definitely been doing something.

.

Loki watched (y/n) interrogate Bob while forensics processed the clothing found at the scene. David was enjoying every minute of it. It was so fascinating to him how easily (y/n) got into Bob’s head.

“See, what you’re telling me is different from what you told my partner.” She said.

Partner…Loki no longer felt an overwhelming feeling of dread at that word; it had grown on him since she had been around.

“Let me tell you something Bob. I’m a forensic psychologist. Do you know what that is?”

He nodded yes

“You do? Good.” You paused. “Then you may know that means I know when you’re telling me lies. And I don’t like lying!” You exclaimed, slamming your fist on the table.

He drew back, shocked that you were no longer friendly.

It gets them every time.

“I-I- I’ll draw a map..to the bodies.”

You swiped your photos off the table then placed some paper and a small pencil in front of the man.

“Get drawing.” You spat.

Oh Loki definitely liked her. That bit of sass coming out right then? Yes please.

“Loki, the families are here.” Officer John informed him as he poked his head into the room.

Loki let out a sigh. Time to see if any of the clothes found belonged to the girls.

.

Loki came to stand next to you as you watched Bob Taylor obsessively draw mazes from behind the one way glass.

“How’d it go with the parents?” You asked him.

He sighed.

“Both sets of parents recognized at least one piece of clothing. Dover blames me for the whole thing. Says I wasted time following him.”

“Shit.” You said as you anxiously ran a hand through your hair. “You know it’s not your fault, right?”

“You get anything?” He inquired, changing the subject.

“No…yes…I dunno…something’s off.” You stated.

“What’s he doing right now?”

“Drawing us a map to the bodies.”

Loki, with brow raised, doubted that.

“It looks like the scribbles on the walls in his house.”

“Good eye, detective.” You complimented.

You didn’t miss the way Loki’s lips curved upward into what was almost a smile.

“What are you thinking?” He inquired.

“I’m not positive. Is the conference room free? I need space to think.”

“Yeah, it is.”

You grabbed your increasingly thick file folder and made your exit.

.

Loki didn’t wanna bother y/n while she was working, but Bob Taylor had been doing nothing but scribbling mazes for the past hour and he was getting bored. He needed an excuse to interrupt her.

Then, an idea struck him.

Coffee.

Not shitty break room coffee. The good shit from the shop down the street.

.

After a quick trip, Loki made his way down the hall to the conference room and leaned up against the door frame.

She had all her papers spread out on the bulletin board and onto the table and some even in the floor. String connected from one picture to another as (y/n) scoured her web of case notes. She was too focused to notice him standing there.

In the few seconds Loki stood there awkwardly with coffee in hand, he began to overthink his decision.

Is it weird that I knew her regular order? Would she get the wrong impression from this? What if she think it’s strange that I went out of my way just for her? Maybe I should just let her be, I should go. Oh too late she saw me. Fuck. No, it’s fine. Just be cool.

She smiled immediately upon seeing him, putting Loki’s troubled mind at ease.

.

Movement at the door caught your eye, you turned around and noticed Loki standing there, immediately motioning for him to come in.

He carefully stepped around all your organized chaos until he was in the center of what looked like a paperwork tornado.

“I hope you know I don’t usually work in such a mess like this.” You sheepishly admitted.

“Even if you did I wouldn’t stop you.” He assured you.

You looked up and noticed he was holding two cups of coffee.

To your surprise, one was for you.

“Figured you could use one.”

You smiled at the gesture, coffee and detective Loki? What more could a girl ask for?

“I can always use one. Thank you.”

You took a long sip and you were immediately taken aback by the the delicious flavor flooding your tastebuds.

This definitely wasn’t break room coffee. This was coffee shop coffee.

Actually, it was exactly what you would order at a coffee shop.

You looked at the order label stuck to the side of the cup.

Yep. That’s your order, down to a T.

Loki had memorized your coffee order.

Loki had memorized your coffee order!

“You memorized my order?” You couldn’t help the sheepish grin that plastered itself onto your face.

Loki, who was was looking very pleased with himself, nodded.

“You only order it a hundred times a day-and that’s since you’ve been here. Can’t imagine what you’re like back home.” A sly grin made its way to his lips.

“Hey!” You exclaimed, playfully whacking him with the papers in your hand.

He let out a chuckle, which was music to your ears.

“Sounds to me like you’ve got a caffeine addiction” he mumbled, taking a sip of his coffee as he nonchalantly sat on the edge of the conference room table

“If anyone around here has a coffee addiction, it’s you mister.” You said, sitting beside him.

“Ain’t no denying that.” Loki confessed.

“Well, here’s to caffeine addictions.” You said raising your cup for a toast.

He raised his cup to yours, the plastic not making much of a sound.

You were suddenly hyper-aware of your proximity to Loki. You glanced over at him- taking in all the small details. The way his cologne intoxicated you, the faded tattoos, the way his hair always fell out of place in the same spot first. Loki turned, locking eyes with you. As much as you didn’t wanna seem like a weirdo for staring at him, you couldn’t pull your gaze away.

David’s eyes searched your face for a sign, a signal or something that told him that you were feeling this too.

Your heart began to race and your palms grew sweaty.

Your eyes flickered between David’s eyes and lips, God you wanted to taste him so badly.

Loki nervously cleared his throat and looked down at the floor, breaking the trance he had put you in.

“So..” you started, trying to hide your disappointment. “I called my people back home and got everything we could find on Taylor, right?”

“Right” he confirmed, his face a mixture of emotions.

“They just got back to me after digging around some more.” You rustled around in the paper pile to find your notes.

“Apparently he was kidnapped when he was young, the captor kept him drugged up. Hospital reports show a mix of LSD and ketamine. Bob escaped, but they never caught the guy.”

You looked up from your notes at Loki to make sure he was listening- And there was that look again, like those blue eyes were staring straight into you.

“So you know how the other day after we went to the mall and I was talking about the suspect probably having extreme trauma the need to control it?”

“Yeah.” Loki replied.

“Taking Anna and Joy…is his attempt to control his trauma. And that experience of being kidnapped fucked him up so much, all he can do is draw mazes for hours on end. That trauma is all he can think about. I think his mind is a fucked up maze and he can’t get out.”

“So..?” Loki trailed off.

“So..I don’t know.” You sighed, feeling defeated. “We could question him together. Good cop, bad cop style?”

“Okay. You’re the bad cop though.”

You scoffed, feigning offense.

“Me? The bad cop?” Your voice going up an octave.

“Yeah.” Loki smirked. “I watched you interrogate Taylor. It suits you.”

“Yeah? You profiling me now detective?”

Loki chuckled. “Yeah..Well, did I do good?”

“Yeah, Loki, you did good.” You said, patting his arm.

Poor, touch starved Loki longed for just a few more moments of your touch. Damn he shouldn’t chickened out of kissing you.

.

“How long has this Bob Taylor been working on this map?” Captain O’Malley came by to check on things.

“Three and a half hours.”

“And you think this is going to lead you to the bodies? cause I sure as shit don’t.”

“Do me a favor Captain and go fuck yourself. We weren’t getting anywhere questioning him.”

Both your moods had shifted dramatically within the last two hours. Feeling the pressure from everyone, you were feeling particularly anxious about this case.

“There was no getting to him, it was like he’s in a trance. He shut down.” You confirmed.

“That looks more like a maze than a map-“

“He’s got a thing for mazes!” Loki spat.

“I’m going home. Call me if something happens.”

You and Loki were at your wits end trying to get this motherfucker to talk.

Loki let out a big sigh.

“Gimme that card John, the key card.”

Loki stormed into the interrogation room

He blinked ‘hard’ a few times and placed his hands on his hips.

“Alright it’s done now. Tell me what you’re drawing. You said you were drawing a map, that looks like a fucking puzzle. You tell me what you’re drawing.”

He blinked ‘hard’.

“Tell me what you’re drawing.”

Loki grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back from the table.

“I can’t!” Bob cried out.

“Yes you can!” and before you knew it he slammed his face into the desk.

“Shit!” You exclaimed as your adrenaline shot up, what the hell was Loki doing?!

Yes you can! Yes you can!” Loki yelled at him over and over.

You and officer John and another officer who you didn’t know all barged in the room desperately trying to tear the two apart. The guys had hands on Loki desperately trying to pull him off, while you grabbed onto Bob Taylor and tried to pull him away, but Loki had a death grip on the man.

“Loki what the fuck are you doing?!” You asked, your anger bubbling to the surface.

In a split second, Bob jumped on the opportunity to pull the gun from the officers holster while he was distracted.

“Oh shit! Gun! Gun! Gun!” Loki yelled and drew his weapon.

You instantly went into crisis mode and drew your weapon.

“Bob you don’t have to do this.” You said. He glanced at you and in that split second you saw a broken man. A victim. He was tired.. tired of trying to escape the prison that was his mind. You’d seen that look before. You knew then it was too late, he had made the decision.

“Bob, put it down. Put the gun down. Bob, Bob. Bob, Bob. No. No no no no! No no no!-“

Bang!

You grimaced at the ringing in your ears from the gunshot.

The sight of Bob Taylor’s brains splattered on the wall made you queasy.

“Fuck.” Loki said in disbelief, “go call fucking R.A.” His voice wavering. You didn’t miss the way his lip trembled and his hands shook.

You angrily shoved your gun in its holster and bolted past Loki and the officers towards the bathroom.

Loki wasn’t the only one starting to crack under the pressure of the Dover-Birch case.

The gravity of what had just happened hit you like a ton of bricks. He was dead. And you watched it happen. You started to feel tightness in your chest, you were breathing but couldn’t get any air. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. Your head started to spin.

You turned on the sink and splashed cold water on your face.

Deep breaths, deep breaths you reminded yourself.

Once the room stopped spinning, you hoisted yourself on to the bathroom sink, you guessed that was as fine of a place to sit as any.

Your chest filled with anger. This was a mistake that was 100% avoidable. Now how were you going to find the girls? Your only real lead was fucking dead.

.

You planted yourself in the seat beside Loki who was waiting just outside the interrogation room.

“Will you sign my incident report?”

He signed the report and handed it back to you without saying a word.

After a few minutes of silence, Loki spoke up and asked if you were okay. It was a simple question but it filled you with anger. Blame it on frustration, lack of sleep, or unbounded stress piling up from this case. Or hell all three, but you couldn’t hold it in any longer. Professionalism be damned.

“No. No Loki I’m not! Our only lead on this case just blew his fucking brains out!”

He blinked ‘hard’.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.” As mad as you were, you knew the last thing Loki needed was you yelling at him.

You sighed. “I’m sorry Loki.”

“S’okay. Loki mumbled.

A heavy silence lingered.

After a minute or two, the medical examiners walked by, body bag in tow.

The captain followed them, holding Bob’s “map”.

“He explain this before he ate the bullet?” O’Malley questioned, trying his best to hold back his anger.

“I’m sorry.”

“Fuck your sorry. Save it for the girls parents.”

Loki stared at the paper the captain handed him.

“Does that look familiar to you? “ he asked, holding up the paper.

“No, sorry.” You said with a yawn, the all too familiar tired feeling sinking into your bones.

You stood from the cramped chair, hoping Loki would follow you.

He didn’t.

All he could do was stare at Bobs drawing.

“Goodnight, Loki.” You said, in a hurry to gather your things and leave.

“Night.” He murmured, unable to tear his eyes from the paper.

.

As y/n rounded the corner of the bullpen, Loki could’ve sworn he saw tears in her eyes. He wanted to go to her and apologize and tell her they’d find the girls some other way, but his feet felt like they were cemented to the floor.

What was he supposed to say anyways? Sorry I got our lead suspect killed and screwed up the entire investigation. Don’t think they make a card for that.

-

loki only tags: @spideyrights @sataninsatin @go-commander-kim @severuined @romancries @eclecticfashionbookszipper @fagen @sizzlingcloudmentality @kissyabish @gyllenhaal-darko-bloom-vibes

[bad-at-names-and-faces]

A New Dream

ao3

ffn

chapter index

November 1st, 1875

Dear Rapunzel,

Please let me know immediately if you’ve heard news from Henry or Inga recently.  I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but I have reason to worry.

Elsa

Rapunzel looked up from the letter she had just received from Elsa, quickly handing it over to Eugene, who looked over it quickly. 

“Well,” Eugene said, “when was the last you heard from them?”

“It’s been several weeks,” she replied. “And the telegraph has been down the whole time.”

“I hadn’t noticed that.”

“It’s working everywhere except between Corona and the Southern Isles,” Rapunzel explained. “That seems odd, don’t you think?”

“Very odd.  I hadn’t even heard anything about it.”

“I was already worried, but Elsa’s note makes me think there’s really something going on.”

Eugene put his hand on hers.

“Has Hilde heard anything?”

“No, though she’s been busy, of course.”

“Still, maybe you should ask her?”

“Of course I should, obviously.” Rapunzel sighed. “I should write back to Elsa, first.”

“Good idea.  I can send a note to Hilde, if you’d like.”

“Please do,” Rapunzel said as she sat down and scribbled out a quick reply to Elsa, folding it up, and calling up the wind spirit, the way Elsa had taught her over a decade before. 

***

Anna and Kristoff sat in the library silently.  Their younger children were all noisily enjoying themselves, and they didn’t want any curious attention. Elsa was talking with Linne about something unrelated. 

Sofia and Marie were talking amongst themselves.

“If the weather allows, we should go visit Isabella tomorrow,” Marie said. “Siggy has been away visiting his family, after all.”

“How long has Siggy been away?” Anna asked.

“Oh! Mother! We didn’t know you were listening!”  Sofia exclaimed. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t help overhearing.”

“Siggy went to visit a cousin in Bergen,” Sofia said. 

“He didn’t come back right after Inga went to the spa?” 

“You didn’t know?” Marie asked, glancing at Sofia.

Anna glanced at Kristoff, who raised an eyebrow.

“Perhaps, Kristoff, we should visit Inga tomorrow.”

***

Henry stood in the back of the cathedral in Corona. Everything was draped in black, and a somber hymn was coming from the organ. Everyone was dressed in full mourning, and he could just make out his family near the front, standing silently with their heads bowed. He hurried forward, but nobody seemed to pay any attention to him. He reached the front.  His sister’s face was covered with a veil, but he could see hints of tears streaking her cheeks, and their grandmother was holding her. He looked at his parents, and his mother in particular looked silently inconsolable, and his father was focusing on her, not looking up. 

“Mother, I’m here!” he announced, reaching for her hand, but it was like touching a statue, and no one seemed to see him. 

He realized that Inga wasn’t there.  Looking around, he saw Aggie to the side, with an unfamiliar governess holding his hand.

“I want to go home,” his son whimpered. 

“You’re next in line now,” the governess whispered. “You need to stay here for your education.”

***

Henry gasped for air, and looking around, realized that he was in Arendelle, sitting in a meadow overlooking the fjord.  Some people walked past, in the direction of the town below. 

“Very sad, isn’t it?” the one said.

“Yes, and both so young. Senseless, if you ask me.”

Henry stood up and chased after them.  “What happened? Who are you talking about?” he asked.

They ignored him. 

“Splitting up the children like that, too. Everyone says that the Queen in Corona will never die, anyway, so why do they have to take the boy away from his family here?”

Henry felt a pit in his stomach.  Was he dead? And what did they mean by both of them? 

“Please, stop!” he shouted, trying in vain to pull at the two.

***

Henry woke up to the sound of someone walking in the corridor.  It was the dreary room he had been in for what had to be at least a month now. He had forgotten to keep track. He stared at the window up above. It was sunny again, that much he could see. He hadn’t seen any people walking by, so he supposed he wasn’t in a basement room, but of course he couldn’t be certain. 

The dreams lingered in his mind. He wondered what they thought about him being gone so long.  But why would Inga be in any danger? It was just a dream, though.  Inga was safe at home. He was sure of it.

Just then he was startled by a knock at the door.

“Yes?” he asked.

The door opened and a man walked in. Henry didn’t recognize him, but something about his appearance made him think that he might be related to the royal family.

“Your Highness,” he intoned, “someone of your station deserves much better accommodation than this.”

The man gestured at the room.

“Who are you?”

“I am someone interested in your well-being,” he replied mysteriously.

Henry rolled his eyes at the man’s vague reply. 

“Well, anyway, the accommodation isn’t what bothers me,” Henry replied. “Can you tell me why I’m here?”

“We will determine that later. The important thing is that we come to an understanding.”

“Excuse me, but I think I deserve to know why I’m here. If you don’t have a reason for holding me-”

“We haven’t yet told anyone where you are. There are some people staying at your embassy who seem to be old friends, but our sources can’t tell us much more.  Depending on your cooperation here, before we reveal where you are, we can come up with an unfortunate accident, during which some kind soul was unaware of your identity, or we have the power to turn it into a scandal. The choice is yours.”

“What are you even talking about? What kind of choice are you talking about?”

“My sources tell me that you know something of use to us.”

“Once again,” Henry asked, increasingly agitated, “can you please tell me what this is about? If it’s about marrying off one of my wife’s sisters, that’s out of the question.”

“Oh, no,” the man laughed. “Some of them might be interested in that, but I’m more interested in the instability that will come when the line of succession goes to some distant duchy.”

“I don’t see how that’s in anyone’s interest,” Henry scoffed. “Besides, we all know that the Duke of Bielko is in line for practically every throne, however distantly. He was even third in line for Arendelle for a while.”

“I believe your own wife knocked him off of that position when she was born,” he chuckled.

“That is true,” Henry acknowledged. “And we all hope that Arendelle’s line of succession will remain secure. I mean no disrespect to the Duke of Bielko, of course.”

“The Duke of Bielko has a very nice life,” the man smirked. “One you yourself might find enviable. His duties extend little beyond that of running a large estate, and I’ve been told he is quite content with his lot. He gets to spend most of his time on his hobbies and relaxing with his family.”

“Yes, that does sound quite nice,” Henry agreed. “From what I’ve heard, I don’t believe he has any interest in taking on the leadership of a vast colonial empire like the Southern Isles. So explain what you’re thinking.”

“You were very young in 1848, of course, but there are those who were left disappointed.”

“Yes, of course,” Henry nodded, not needing a history lesson. “So a succession crisis would be quite useful. I think I understand now. What does this have to do with me?”

“Does the name Ludvig Holst ring a bell?” the man asked him.

“I remember Prince Ludvig mentioning someone by that name before I found myself here,” Henry answered. “But that’s just about the only thing I can tell you. I know he’s in newspapers.”

“Yes, well, he was in newspapers.”

“Was?”

“He came to an unfortunate end earlier this week.”

“Oh!” Henry gasped. As much as the name had sounded almost sinister when he was contemplating meeting with the proprietor of cheap papers focused on royal gossip, he wished nobody ill.

“You may have guessed his relation to Prince Ludvig,” the man hinted.

Henry thought for a moment. “Indeed, I hadn’t thought about that. Ludvig is a common enough name. But I assume you’ll tell me that he was more than simply a business associate?”

“Indeed, Ludvig had acknowledged as much, legally, though being in the position of controlling the press, he had managed to keep this quiet for the time being.”

“I see,” Henry said. “That is indeed unfortunate, but as you may be aware, I never met Ludvig Holst. I still fail to understand what role I have in all of this.”

“Your position, or rather, your close connection to Arendelle, is what we’re interested in. You see, we have reason to believe that there is another potential heir, yet to be publicly acknowledged, living in Arendelle.”

“This would be news to me,” Henry said, remaining technically honest. “I am aware of no such person in Arendelle. Do you care to tell me what you do know?”

“I only know what has been rumored,” he said, handing Henry one of the more notorious gossip papers from Corona. “For example, there are rumors of your wife’s activities since you’ve been gone.”

Henry looked at the paper. Assuming the paper was real, it seemed that October had already passed. For all the promises he had made Inga for when he would return at the end of the summer, he never thought he would still be away after this much time.

He skimmed the front page, which spoke of Inga running off to Bergen with the captain of the Arendelle guard. He knew her friendliness with Siggy was something people whispered and speculated about, though why they would think she was going all the way to Bergen with him, he didn’t know.

“This is nonsense,” Henry declared. “And I can only assume this supposed heir you’ve heard about is nonsense as well.”

“And yet, that is the same captain of the guard who has been rumored to be your wife’s lover since before you were married. Some even suspect-”

“I’m familiar with these rumors,” Henry retorted. “There’s nothing to them.”

“Are you saying there was nothing irregular about your wedding, then?”

“That’s not what I said,” Henry replied bluntly. “But bringing in people who had nothing to do with it doesn’t help anything.”

***

It was a dark, windy morning, and Arianna woke up in the nursery to see everyone else still asleep, and the nanny presumably gone to take care of their breakfast. She left quietly, but her brothers were fast asleep, so it probably didn’t matter. She wanted to see her grandmother, because something had seemed not quite right. 

She gently knocked at the door of the study, which swung open to reveal an empty room. Walking to the window, no one was outside, but that wasn’t much of a surprise given the weather. She heard some commotion coming from the library, and found Sofia and Marie on the sofa, looking over a stack of newspapers. 

“Good morning,” she said.  “Where is everyone else?” 

“Oh, good morning, Arianna,” Sofia said. “Everyone else is asleep, except Mother and Father and Aunt Elsa, but they left late last night.”

“Left?” Arianna asked. “Where?” 

“They wouldn’t say,” Marie said. “Mother said she wanted to see about some business matters in Bergen.”

“I think we know the real reason,” Sofia smirked. “They could have just sent Father if it was a trade guild matter.”

“What do you mean?” Arianna asked.

“Sofia, she doesn’t need to hear about that,” Marie whispered.

Sofia blushed, and started gathering up the papers. Arianna noticed that they were from Corona, not Arendelle.  Her parents never let her read the papers from Corona.

“You’re right, Marie,” Sofia sighed.  “Ariana, you probably don’t want to read any of the newspapers right now.”

“Oh! What’s this?” Olaf had entered the room without anyone noticing, and was reaching for one of the newspapers still on the floor. “That looks like it’s about Inga!”

Sofia and Marie were shaking their heads. 

“Nothing interesting,” Sofia insisted, grabbing the paper from Olaf. “Just some gossip from one of the Corona papers.” 

***

The road toward Bergen was well-maintained, but the wind and drizzle made the journey miserable.  Kristoff drove them silently, while Anna rode in back with her sister. Sleep was a good excuse not to voice her thoughts of what they might find. Part of her almost hoped to find out that Inga was having some kind of affair. They could figure something out. People did that, didn’t they?  But the Southern Isles, she didn’t want to think about that. Corona had taken care of dealings with the Southern Isles for thirty years now on behalf of Arendelle, and it seemed to be working.

The wind had died down and the drizzle subsided when they pulled up at the end of the path leading to the spa. The establishment showed all the signature details of an Oaken establishment, except a sign outside told passers by that they were closed for a private party.

“Elsa?” she said as they pulled to a stop.

“I think I’ll stay here for now,” her sister replied. 

Anna nodded, glancing at Kristoff, who gave a quick nod in return to go ahead.  

She walked up to the door and knocked.

“Your Majesty!” Renata gasped as she opened the door.

“Hello, Renata, I hope I’m not troubling you too much,” Anna apologized, “but I need to speak with my daughter, and I understand that she’s reserved your entire resort for the past month.”

“That’s true,” Renata replied nervously, “Her Highness has reserved the place.  We haven’t taken any other guests since her arrival.”

“Thank you,” Anna said cautiously, realizing that the family were probably following Inga’s own orders. She would save any possible anger for her own daughter, not Renata or anyone working here.  “Wait here a moment, please?”

Anna walked to the main road where the wagon had stopped.  

“Is she here?” Kristoff asked as he came down from the wagon.

“I don’t think so,” Anna replied. “I don’t want to go charging in making them think they’re going to be arrested for treason or something.”

“No, of course not,” he nodded.  

Elsa stepped down from the back. “I told you I was fairly certain she’s not here.”

“Yes, but we need to find out where she actually is,” Anna insisted,  “And maybe find out why she felt compelled to just leave like that.”

Kristoff took Anna’s hand.  “We’ll wait here.”

Anna took a deep breath and walked back to the door.  “Can you tell me if Inga is here now?”

Renata looked uncomfortable, glancing back inside.  “Your Majesty, please, I don’t want any scandal.  Nobody has spoken to anyone.”

“I… I hadn’t thought there would be a scandal,” Anna replied.  “I promise you won’t be in any trouble with me.  May I come in?”

Renata nervously opened the door wide, and Anna stepped inside.  Several members of the extended Oaken family had gathered in the kitchen, and Anna felt the strong urge to apologize for her interruption, but then reminded herself that they were covering up Inga’s whereabouts. 

She stopped right behind Renata, anxious to find out what they had to say.  There was some commotion by the main stairway in the front hall, and she saw Inga’s maid being led downstairs, looking terrified.

“Your Majesty,” she said with a deep curtsey.

“Oline?” Anna asked.  “Where is Inga?”

“Your Majesty,” the maid replied, sounding like she was ready to cry, “Her Highness left me here.  I was ordered not to say anything.”

“Did she tell you where she was going?”

“She was going on to Bergen, but she didn’t say if they were staying there.”

“They?”

“Oh…” Oline sighed.  “She didn’t want him to get in trouble.  It was all her idea.”

“What?  What was her idea? And who is going to be in trouble?”

“Can you promise that you won’t get anyone in trouble?”

“I promise to be fair,” Anna told her.

The maid looked around nervously, and took a deep breath.  “Captain Olsen took her on to Bergen, but I swear I wasn’t the one who told the papers.”

“Which papers?”

“One of the papers from Corona.  The family here gets several of them each week.”

***

Eugene stood alone on the terrace, pacing nervously.

“Father?” Hilde asked. “I came as soon as I got your letter. What’s going on?”

“Has Henry written to you recently? Or maybe Inga?” 

“No. Inga hardly ever writes to me. Henry hasn’t written since the summer, but he sometimes forgets, you know.”

“Have you heard from anyone in the Southern Isles?” Eugene asked her.

“No, but the Dowager has mentioned some gossip that never makes it into the newspapers.”

“I haven’t seen her since your wedding, how’s she doing?” 

“Quite well, but she’s very worried for her daughter, the one married to the Duke of Bielko.  It seems that anyone with a connection to the Southern Isles family is starting to worry.”

“I hadn’t heard about that.” 

“I’m surprised. Henry has been complaining about the succession crisis in his letters to me.”

“Really?” Eugene asked. “He doesn’t bring up politics in his letters to us.”

“He knows I like some good gossip, I guess. Some of the princes are trying to get married again, and they think Henry could connect them to the young single princesses of Arendelle.”

“Well, they do have a few of those,” Eugene laughed in spite of himself. He was not feeling any less nervous, but at least it almost made sense now.  Almost.

“Hilde, do you have any of those letters with you?” 

“Not with me here, but they’re at the cottage,” she said. 

“If you don’t mind sharing them, they might be helpful.”

***

Eugene found Rapunzel in their room.

“I just talked to Hilde,” he announced. “She has letters from the dowager Princess of Glowerhaven with information that might be of interest, and she left to get them.  None of this is showing up in any of the newspapers, but the Duke of Bielko seems to be worried that he’ll actually be in line for succession.”

“I know they’re having a bit of a succession crisis

“Is there anything we can do right now?” she asked him.

He stood silently for a moment.

“Has anyone been in their room?” he asked.

“Just the cleaning staff once a week, I think,” Rapunzel said. “It seems invasive.”

Eugene sighed. “They might both be in trouble, we need to go.”

Rapunzel was relieved that her spare key still opened the door to their son’s room, but of course the servants would have a working key, as well, but she didn’t want the questions that would come from asking them.

The place was obviously not lived in.  Henry had visited briefly during one of his diplomatic trips during the past year, but Inga had been in Arendelle for over two years now with their children.  Rapunzel knew it wasn’t personal, but she wished she could see them more often.  

She and Eugene stood at the door, looking around. In one corner were several of Henry’s paintings, partially finished, simply leaning against the wall behind an easel. Inga had left very few things besides a closet full of dresses that were obviously only worn in Corona. Rapunzel walked over to the small bookshelf by the bed, next to Inga’s writing desk. The top of the desk was completely empty, except for a small portrait of her, obviously Henry’s work, and from the look of Inga’s hair, possibly painted soon after the two had met.

“Should we look in the drawers?” Eugene asked.

“Oh, of course!” Rapunzel said, wondering why she hadn’t started with that.  The first drawer contained a single sheet of paper, carefully folded. She opened it up, quickly folding it back.

“What was that?” Eugene asked.

“It’s from Henry.  It’s- I think they had a sort of game of leaving notes for each other… here.” 

She felt like she was invading their son’s privacy, but perhaps Eugene would notice something in it that she hadn’t.

November 2nd, 1869

Dear Inga,

I’m going to be traveling again. I’ll see if you can find this note.  I already miss you.  I’ve left a surprise for Ariana in the nursery, and I’ll get something for both her and Aggie while I’m in the Southern Isles. 

Much love,

Yours,

Henry

“This was five years ago,” Eugene observed, setting the letter back into the drawer. 

“Six years ago,” Rapunzel corrected, then shook her head. “Not that it matters…”

“What about the other drawer?” Eugene asked. 

Rapunzel felt a small frame, and pulled out a miniature painting, about the size of a book. She turned it over and held it up to reveal a painting of a mermaid resting on a half dressed young man.

“We weren’t meant to see that, put it back,” Eugene said quickly. 

“Why?” Rapunzel asked, then looked closer, realizing that the faces were those of Henry and Inga. “Yes, that’s going back where it came from.”

She closed the drawer as quietly as she could, as Henry or Inga might walk in at that moment.

“Is there anything on the shelves?”

Rapunzel squatted down and looked at the shelves underneath.  There were novels in various languages, and a Portuguese phrasebook.  Then she saw a book at the back with nothing written on the spine. She pulled it out from the shelf, carefully opening it to the first page.  

“I’m pretty sure this is Inga’s writing,” she sighed. “I can’t read this, though.  Now I wish I’d put in some effort to learn the language…”

“Let me take a look,” Eugene said, taking the book. “This is from nine years ago. Nothing too astounding, pretty much the usual stuff someone would say starting out a diary.”

***

Inga sat in the Embassy dining room with Lars. John had just returned from the staff outing, and most of them were heading to their rooms to sleep the rest of the day, as the rain had meant that most of their revelries involved the beer hall rather than outdoor amusements. 

John walked in with a bowl of soup.

“Here, Inga, I know that you haven’t had much appetite lately, but I think this will help.  You should eat more.” 

“Wait, carrot soup?” Inga asked, smelling the familiar odor.

“Yes, I remembered Halima telling me it’s what you usually eat if you don’t have a good appetite.  She said it was a family favorite.”

“Well, thank you, John,” she said. Inga never remembered actually ordering it from Halima, but it did always seem to be on hand when she claimed she had no appetite.

“Some food would do you some good,” Lars said. “By the way, John, did you see this?” 

Lars showed him a card. 

“Bielsko is hosting a party tonight?” John asked. “You want me to find out who’s going to be there, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“The Duke of Bielsko is next in line for the throne of the Southern Isles after the royal family, isn’t he?” Inga mused between bites of soup.

“And for Arendelle’s after your family,” Lars said. “They’re married into nearly every family. I wonder if Glowerhaven will be there. Have you met the Princess of Glowerhaven?” 

“No,” Inga said. “Only her younger daughter, once, in Corona. She was interested in Frederick, of course.” 

“Of course,” John laughed. “But who wasn't?” 

Lars took back the invitation, and rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “Wait… Maldonia… Inga, which ones have you met?”

Inga hesitated, remembering exactly what Lars was referring to. “The older brother… oh, and his sister.”

“Which one is the older brother?” John asked. 

“Tarkan is the older one,” Lars replied. “Good thing, too, since we know he’s not in town.” 

Inga relaxed a bit. “Still, I suppose I’d be recognized by someone if I went.”

“Not necessarily,” Lars said.  “You have a reputation for not being seen at foreign events, you know.”

“Do I?” Inga asked.

“Honesty may be the perfect disguise, as you learned when you arrived here,” Lars said.

“What do you mean?” 

“You will go as my half sister Ingeborg. You will dress up, of course, that much is expected.”

“Are you sure about this?” John asked. 

“Yes, quite sure,” Lars said. “That is, if you agree.”

Inga thought about it. It was tempting.  “It might be interesting,” she admitted. 

“Good,” Lars said, standing up. “Even though we didn’t learn very much at the opera, I think that you will hear things that neither John nor I would be able to learn.”

“When should I be ready?” Inga asked. 

Lars looked at the card, then the clock. “We should probably be ready to go in an hour.  John, why don’t you get the carriage ready, and I’ll let the maid know. You should finish that soup.”

[peachcitt]

ok chrysalis spoilers for anyone who hasn’t read it yet

but omg the thing about adrien being like afraid or feeling incapable of touching her ??? ok that is so slutty. sorry!! but it is. metamorphosis introduced me to slutdrien and it is all i think about now </3 shoutout anna scribbles and her cover for the chapter with the red suit dear god

THIS IS MAKING ME LAUGH SO HARD

like yeah it’s unbelievably sad but you’re right. it is so terribly slutty in an unflinchingly polite repressed victorian suitor kind of way. yes. you are so so right

<3

[appetite4savage]

Jealous (Joe Elliott)

-

request from anon: ‘80s joe meets a tour photographer that has already developed a liking for Steve

-

Joe’s POV

Today we’re meeting the crew for the upcoming Hysteria tour. Some of them have worked with us in the past, but others are brand new.

Our team asked us to meet at a brick building by the studio where we mix some of our songs. I don’t know why, but I’m nervous about meeting the new employees.

Immediately upon walking in someone catches my eye. It’s a new girl, sitting beside Steve and chatting with him. They’re smiling and laughing, maybe they know each other?

I walk over and hold out my hand to her.

“Hi, I’m Joe.” I shake her hand.

“Anna, I’m the new tour photographer.” She shakes my hand and returns to her conversation with Steve. I raise an eyebrow at him. He shrugs.

“So you’re into music theory too?” She asked him.

“Yeah, I was classically trained with guitar so I can look at a note and know when not to play it because it’s musically incorrect.” He explains.

I mentally scoff. We get it, Steve. You’re a musical genius.

“I think that’s what makes you and Phil work together so well.” She giggles.

“You know, Steve isn’t the only one with musical talents. I can play a mean piano.” I interject.

She barely pays attention to me, still facing Steve.

“That’s good, Joe.”

What is it about him that’s got her gawking?

I roll my eyes and move to the couch with Phil and Sav.

“What is it, Joe? Why is your knee moving like a freight train?” Sav whispers.

“The new girl is into Steve.”

Sav snorts. “Jealous that she’s not into you?”

I smack him on the shoulder.

“Look at her, mate. Do you blame me?”

She’s beautiful. Her brown hair frames her face perfectly and her green eyes sparkle every time she smiles. She catches me staring at her and I glance away quickly.

-

Hours pass by and I can’t focus on anyone but Anna. Anna. Her name just flows off the tongue so well, doesn’t it?

A voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

“Joe?”

It’s her. She’s actually speaking to me?

“Hey, where did Steve go?” I ask, taking a sip of my drink to avoid eye contact.

“He had to go.”

“Oh.”

“I have to get out of this room. There’s so many people. Do you want to go get some fresh air with me?”

Suddenly I feel like I could run a marathon. Surely I’m imagining this.

Answer her, dumbass.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” I nod and get up, following her out the door.

-

“You like Mott the Hoople?” She asks.

“Yes, they’re only my favorite band.” I laugh.

“That’s amazing! I rarely ever meet someone who likes them too.”

We have been sitting on this park bench for what feels like hours. I’ve learned that she’s essentially the female version of me. Everything she says about herself throws me for a loop. She’s full of surprises I guess.

“You’re a lot different than I expected you to be.” She says abruptly.

“Oh?”

“I expected a egomaniac lead singer.”

“I’m afraid I’m just like everyone else. You’re not what I expected either. I thought you liked Steve.”

“He’s great, but so are you.”

I scoot closer to her on the bench and put my hand on her knee.

She gets up and smiles at me. What?

“I have to go, but here’s my number.” She pulls a notepad out of her purse and scribbles her number on it. She kissed me on the cheek and walks away, leaving me flabbergasted.

That’s not what I expected to happen, but it’s good enough for me. Take that, Steve.

[chidoroki]

182 Days of TPN - Day 21

Chapter 21: “Blatant Trap”

Okay WAIT. I don’t remember them asking this question at all because the anime skips over it completely?? It goes unanswered in the manga since Krone just agrees then reiterates how she’ll tell them anything as Emma proceeds to ask to look at the tracking device, but still. I can imagine what Krone’s answer would’ve been by that look on her face.

You just had to give them ideas, huh? Sure it’s helpful in the end and ultimately makes that device Ray spent years slowly putting together go unused, but now our girl gets a bad idea in her head for later! Oh, I dunno if it was ever mentioned (or this is me forgetting as usual) who removes the trackers of everyone else (minus Ray & Emma since the latter does both) the night of the escape but, I shall imagine it was Anna since she’s our future medic.

Also, Norman’s comment about there being no knives in the house was kinda unbelievable to me, but nah, they really only have one damn fork. How do y’all cut up your food? Do you even have spoons for things like soup?? (no worries, future me says yes and some are shown in a couple chapters).

And they both look stunning for their ages! (pftt, “their ages,” as if i’m not old as hell too..god that’s highly upsetting).

This advice definitely works wonders for Emma. She was already a good actor before, but now? especially after Norman’s shipment and during the night of the escape? Ooohh she plays Isabella like a fiddle and I absolutely love it.

No, I don’t know about whatever keyboard smash nonsense you just said. Why? Because we never get to hear how to say His name and yes it still bugs me! And since we’ll never know how to pronounce and I don’t wanna refer to him as “scribbles” as so many others do, I shall continue to call Him as “bastard” because that’s certainly what he is after what he did Emma! I’ll never forgive Him for that.

Favorite panel/moment:

Gilda certainly has quite the imagination.