#I might have to seriously consider finally getting an AO3 account so I can make good on the archive part and archive some of my analyses

[loregoddess]

finally finished the first draft of my Octo2 analysis, I still need to go back and edit and rearrange stuff so it reads better, but I copied the text over into a Word doc so I could see the word count, out of curiosity, and it's currently a little over 4000 words, which isn't long per se (although it's apparently 7 pages of text in Times New Roman 12pt single spaced font), but that's definitely one of my longer analyses and, if I were to cite it out in Chicago Style, would absolutely qualify as an acceptable essay in length alone in most of the college classes I once took

[imawholeassmood]

Read Between the Lines

read it on ao3

Lena reads the review, rubs her temples a few times, then reads it again. There is no way Super_Girl has rated this book five stars and then wrote multiple paragraphs waxing poetic about how fantastic it was. Lena already submitted her own one-star review which included her breakdown of the writing, the characters, and the plot, of which this book had none.

For months, Lena has been seeing Super_Girl reviews pop up on the same books Lena recently finished. She wondered at this point if Super_Girl might be doing this on purpose – reading the same books just so she could rate the book the opposite of whatever Lena did. At first, it was simple - “Loved it!” or “Couldn’t get into this one,” but as of late, the reviews had gotten longer and more descriptive.

Lena herself always used the same formula for reviewing books: overall star rating with a breakdown of her thoughts on the characters, the plot, and the writing. Books, like most things in life, are easy to rate when you understand the evaluation system. Books follow formulas and rules for a reason – it’s what makes them good. A romance novel, for instance, requires a “happily ever after.” Without it, it cannot be considered a romance, and it certainly wouldn’t be a good one.

So, as Lena reads the latest review by Super_Girl, Lena can’t help but leave a comment. Maybe this person simply needs an education on the book rating system.

“What criteria do you use when rating a book?”

It’s a good starting place for this conversation. Lena has amassed quite the following with people interested in her book reviews and the last thing she wants to do is stir up internet drama to damage her good reputation. She knows how easy it is for people to take something out of context.

The reply comes almost immediately.

“Vibes!”

Lena blinks a few times, then closes the browser and leaves her laptop for the night.

**

Super_Girl does it again with another five-star rating for a book that made Lena seriously consider contacting the literary award agencies to complain about their selection. The book sounded like it was AI generated and had zero plot. And the characters? Don’t even get her started.

“How can you consider this a masterpiece?” she writes under the review. “There is zero substance in this book. It’s just a bunch of flowery words that mean nothing and make no sense. If this is your idea of romance, then I’d hate to be your girlfriend.”

Her phone rings and Lena spends the next hour talking with her assistant, Jess, about the priorities for the week and when they can finalize some presentations. Later, as she lays in bed scrolling on her phone, Lena thinks to check her goodreads account. There, under her latest comment, is a reply from Super_Girl.

“Amidst the turmoil of the crumbling world around them, two people take the time to write love letters to each other. What’s more romantic than that?

I want to meet you in every place I have loved.

I want to be in contact with you.

Swoon.”

Speaking of taking things out of context.

While Lena can see Super_Girl’s point, that’s not enough to change her mind about the book. Especially not in the context of it being a sci-fi fantasy that relegated war to a backdrop in much the same way Hollywood did with Pearl Harbor. Don’t get her started. She types out a response before closing the webpage and going to sleep.

“Relationships develop over time. Even if I agreed with your assessment, this book still lacked any real narrative and there’s zero reason to believe these two people would fall in love. They don’t know anything about each other except that they can write a decent letter.”

**

Oh, no, Lena thinks. Her latest read has her questioning her entire belief system about books. She liked the book. Not because it had a great plot. Not because she was rooting for the characters. She liked the book because…it gave her good vibes. She genuinely had a good time reading it, despite it being a complete shitshow. This never happened to her before.

She opens her goodreads page to leave her review and finds that Super_Girl hasn’t read this one yet. She feels the slightest pang of disappointment but pushes through to her review. At the end of her standard format, she adds a new category: vibes.

It takes a few days, and Lena finds herself checking her account every few hours. She’s sitting at her desk and scrolling on her phone when she gets a notification that Super_Girl commented on her review.

“Vibes?!?! I’m SUPER proud of you! And we agree the characters were awful and the plot was weak, but it was well-written.”

She doesn’t even realize she’s smiling until Jess comments about it.

“Oh, nothing,” she says and waves her hand. “Just a literary rival.”

Jess looks at her. “You’re smiling because of…a rival?”

Is that what they were? The word didn’t really feel like a good fit, but Lena goes with it.

“Agreed with me on a point. Can we please stay focused?”

And they do. Lena and Jess go over the latest reports and prepare for an upcoming meeting with one of their international partners. Lena doesn’t think about Super_Girl again until she’s lying in bed and that damn smile creeps backs onto her face.

**

Her next review is not a good one. It makes Lena question the romance genre as a whole. Has the world become so used to being treated like garbage, people can’t even tell the difference between healthy and toxic love?

She’s barely hit submit when Super_Girl comments on her review.

“They were flirting the whole time!”

Lena is still sour enough she doesn’t bother to hold back on her response.

“Flirting where? Being in each other’s orbit is not flirting. Why can’t people just say, ‘I like you and I’d like to go on a date with you?’ instead of whatever BS was happening in this book. Honestly, I’m worried for your love life if you think this is a healthy way to approach communication.”

Super_Girl goes silent for a long while after that.

Lena worries something may have happened and questions whether she should reach out. They haven’t gone this long without a reciprocal review since they started this little dance of theirs almost a year ago. She finds herself rereading their reviews and wondering about who Super_Girl might be behind the screen name. There’s no profile photo, no personal information at all. Just a single word.

Golly.

Lena smiles at that. In fact, she smiles at everything Super_Girl has written. While they may not agree on books, Lena can’t deny that whoever is behind the reviews is a wordsmith who comes across as the sweetest human on the planet.

It surprises her when she receives a notification that she has been selected to read a new release ahead of publication in exchange for an honest review. Lena doesn’t usually agree because she doesn’t want to give people any reason to think her reviews are biased or influenced in any way. She’s about to deny the request, but the cover art depicts two women, one blonde, the other brunette, and Lena never turns down a sapphic story. She accepts the request without another thought.

**

When Lena finishes The Write Stuff, she starts it over and reads it again, cover to cover. The writing, the pacing, and the storytelling are superb. It’s as if the author has studied every article about how a romance novel should be written. The characters are so well written, she has clear images of who each of these women are. She understands their desires, their fears, and their motives. Not only does she care about these people as a couple, but she also cares about them individually in a way she hasn’t cared about a character in a long time. As for the plot itself? It’s perfectly cheesy and still somehow realistic enough to be believable that it could happen in real life.

Lena hasn’t felt this…satisfied by a book since well, since she can’t remember.

So, that’s exactly what she writes in her review.

“I especially loved this line:

I would rewrite history if it meant a chance for a happy future with you.”

When she’s done, she looks up the author and finds that she’s written one other book.

Lena doesn’t recall reading it, but when she clicks on the title, she finds her review posted with a few hundred likes and several dozen comments. One star and zero positive things to say about it. Lena can’t help but think how far the author has come from this first book to the most recent one. It’s an impressive improvement, and Lena Luthor isn’t easily impressed.

Supergirl leaves a comment on her review a few days later.

“It looks like the author has been paying attention to your feedback.”

**

The following week, Lena is staring at the meeting invitation with furrowed brows and a healthy dose of confusion. She presses the call button on the speaker on her desk.

“Yes, Miss Luthor?” Jess says.

“Jess, why do I have a meeting with Supergirl on my calendar?”

Jess is quiet for a moment. She’s quiet so long, in fact, that Lena’s door opens and a blond woman with thick-rimmed glasses wearing chinos and a tucked-in button down steps just inside. She has a nervous smile and fidgets with her glasses.

Lena recognizes her from the photo bio she still has pulled up on her web browser and stands to greet her.

“Miss Danvers,” she says, “please, come in. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Kara Danvers, author of The Write Stuff, who Lena has been internet stalking for the past week shifts in the doorway. Lena comes around the front of her desk. They stare at each other in silence for a moment before Lena hears a faint “go” from Jess in the reception area. That makes Kara shake out of her stupor.

She brings her hand out from behind her back and holds her arm at full length with a bouquet of…plumerias. Lena can’t believe what she’s seeing. Her favorite flowers which represent love and new beginnings are being offered to her by this stunning woman who wrote one of her favorite books of the year. Lena looks from the flowers back to Kara’s face.

“I like you, Lena Reads” Kara says, “and I would like to go on a date with you.”

[yourlocalartsonist]

Hey hey hey fellas!

Sooo this is just a short post cuz I miss posting on here— I don’t got anything to show sadly. I’ve been taking a break from writing MFIP as I mentioned before but it’s still on my mind cuz i have issues and I haven’t made any artwork for MFIP that I can show now. Everything’s currently being made for chapters 10-14 so obvs can’t post any without spoilers. I’ve been writing some one-shots too as cool additional content for the story but those can’t come out yet either since I have everything specifically planned out. That all being said, I just missed y’all and don’t wanna ghost every time I take a break or don’t have anything to post so🦐

I’m also working on AUs as side-projects, nothing as seriously worked on and planned out as MFIP tho. The AUs are just things me and my bestie @yosajaeofficial like doing together on the side and keeps my creative brain sharp. Also makes sure I don’t get burnt out of MFIP cuz we can’t have that happening or I’ll transform into my final Leo kinnie form and leap out the window😀💥 We have a joint account, nothing posted there yet but when it starts running I’ll be sure to reblog it here. OH and I also think I might take a page out of Jae’s book and start doing monthly updates. These chapters are taking longer to work on even when they’re not long chapters and I want some way to still stay in touch with everyone here. As for Ao3, idk🦐🎀✨ I have no clue how to make sure my Ao3 folks know I’m not dead other than replying to comments so womp womp whoops—

But yea uh das all tbh. I love you guys, I’m genuinely so incredibly grateful for everyone choosing to read my silly turgle fic and ofc for my team as always cuz MAN Y’ALL DO SOME WIZARDLY LEVEL OF EDITING‼️‼️ I consider myself a good writer and I’ve still learned so much from everyone cuz of how skillful and intelligent they all are ;w; But ye, I hope to see you folks soon and hopefully won’t have to come empty handed again. Stay safe everyone!~

[right-brain-of-froggy2]

Colors

A little Saturday day drabble for you all- hope you enjoy it!

AO3 link here!

“Jeff balances the unimaginable: giving a guest lecture at MIT and herding his three little boys”

“So if you take into account the resistance drag from all of the asteroids’ gravity between here and Jupiter, the maximum size of a carrier ship is…”

“Ten!”

Jeff holds back a look as Virgil giggles at John’s exclamation. The students of the class, however, don’t hold back their coos as Scott clamors up into his lap at the same time.

“Well, as you can see, I am on babysitting duty today,” Jeff explains. Lucy had to help out her folks at the farmer’s market this morning after their normal hands got sick, leaving Jeff to manage a menagerie of sons. A nine-month-old, three year old, and very rambunctious five year old are not the best to combine with a guest lecture to PhD students at MIT.

Scott gets himself comfy and waves his own model spaceship (stolen from John, Scott certainly doesn’t have any space toys as by his own accord) to the class.

“Blue is the fastest color. You should make it blue!”

One student unmutes himself. “He may be onto something there, Mr. Tracy. You might want to look into that.”

“Actually, I would argue red is faster,” another jumps in.

Relieved that the students are better-natured than his last group, Jeff lets Scott stay in his lap. He does a quick scan of the room to find Virgil in his playpen and John by his feet with a set of action figures.

“The answer to the actual question is half a kilometer. Any larger and gravity would produce an unstable inertia.” The students jot down his answers. Jeff looks to the next few slides of his PowerPoint. They’re on the typical space travel topics that he’s sure these students have studied before in their classes. He’s just been brought in as more of a celebrity than a point of reference.

Scott makes vrooming noises as he crashes the ship into Jeff’s arm. It’s the last confirmation Jeff needs to shut out of the PowerPoint. Professor Mavis looks concerned as there’s still thirty minutes left, but Jeff waves her worries off.

“I’m sure you’re all tried and true with all the information I would have shared with you. It’s textbook information that I only add to with a few personal stories. But let’s go a little off the beaten path today. Let’s talk about those questions that no one has answered about space travel for you before.”

The students nod- they look excited- but stay quiet.

John makes grabby hands to be lifted up. Jeff moves his holoprojector to the coffee table to pick up his second son. Once again, the students cheer at the sight of another chunky little baby. John hides his blushing face into Jeff’s chest. He clears his throat. “I’ll start. Red or blue. Is one of them faster?”

“Red is!”

“Blue!”

“Guys, it’s a trick question…”

“No, red!”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I think o-ange,” John adds his two cents in. That just about earns him a wallop from Scott who will die by the color blue.

Jeff laughs at the students bickering amongst themselves. “I bet you weren’t ready to discuss color theory today in class. There is a right answer, but it’s not quite based on speed. Does anyone know what we’re starting to base craft colors on?”

One of the students, a fourth year Jeff recognizes from previous talks, unmutes. “Would it be based on distance in correlation with the redshift theory? Red is easier to see for deep space missions when viewing from the Solar System?”

“That’s a good idea,” Jeff says with a nod. “But not quite. We aren’t on the level of deep space travel that redshift would need to be considered.”

“Oh, you’re right,” the student agrees. “And unless it’s emitting light, there’s no way we would probably see a reflection.”

A chorus of “ooh’s” and “umm’s” chorus.

“Anyone else?”

“Blue is best,” Scott says. He looks to the students and nods oh so seriously that the students all have to go along with it.

Jeff finally answers. “Well, we based what colors to make a ship based on-”

Virgil decides to let to a racket of noise from his playpen at the anticipated moment. He’s whacking one hard toy against another as a mock hammer. The boy shrieks in joy when a chunk of one flies off. “No, no, no Virgie! Don’t break toys!” Scott’s pushing of from Jeff to play dictator and tell Virgil that he did wrong. John takes his chance and claims the prime spot on Jeff’s lap for his own.

Jeff laughs. He can feel how red his face is with the slight embarrassment. “We base colors on destination. You want to pick a color that stands out against both space, the sun, and your destination. That immediately takes out black, yellow, and most tans or oranges. Silver is common due to it’s reflectivity. And being the normal color for most of the metals we use. But so, if you have a rocky planet mission, blue would be an excellent choice. Going to Neptune or Uranus? Blue might be the worst possible choice. Go for red.”

The students flood with Jeff questions after the gate has been broken.

John falls asleep against his chest as he continues discussing all things space with the students. Scott’s asleep on the floor, half under the table, and Virgil’s fixated on a bird at the bird feeder outside the bay window. Jeff can’t think of a more perfect day beyond if Lucy were here, napping on the other couch too.

[starshine583]

New Girl on the Block (11)

(aaaaaah thank you guys so much for all of the replies in the last one! I get so giddy reading them! Anyway, here’s chapter 11 of New Girl on the Block. I hope you all enjoy and please feel free to check out the mini series connected to this called Journal Entries!)

Ch.1 / Ch.10 / Ch.12  (Ao3)

Chapter 11: Aw~ You Really Do Care

Gentle breezes that swayed this way and that were always known for creating calming atmospheres. They blew through the wisps of your hair like a sweet kiss from nature and quietly stole your troubles from the deep sigh that you’d let out from finally getting fresh air. They weren’t supposed to harshly wrap around your limbs and torso, condemning you to a make-shift cage that was built to keep you paralyzed as you were carried through the air by a magical, maniacal, part-time villain. And this, Marinette decided, was going to be reason number forty-seven for why she hated Hawkmoth. He ruined the little things. Not only was she going to scowl at every autumn breeze from this moment on due to bitter memories, she was also reminded that she can’t even have a small lunch with friends between classes without getting blasted across the street. With all of the akumas centering around Dupont, she had hoped that her chances of getting ambushed would decrease, but that was apparently too much to ask for.

She’ll give Hawkmoth credit on one account, though: this was the first time she’d gotten caught up in an akuma while in civilian form since she transferred schools. Nevertheless, one time is still one too many, especially when this was bound to happen again sooner or later.

Marinette thrashed against Whirlwind’s hold, and although she didn’t put too much effort into it for the sake of subtlety, she could tell they weren’t going to budge. She needed to find another way to get down that wouldn’t alarm or anger the akuma. Maybe she could convince Whirlwind to get on the ground somehow.. But she already seemed on edge. What if she got aggressive? These akumas were never reasonable, and Marinette couldn’t turn her head to see if Felix and the others were out of range yet. 

Marinette held back a groan. Why did there have to be so many obstacles!

“I’m not seeing any ‘company buildings’.” Whirlwind remarked, frowning as she scanned over the city rooftops. “Where did you say they were again?”

“It’s- uhm -” Marinette faltered. She hadn’t expected to be addressed once they started moving. “It’s on the other side of town. If I remember correctly. You should be able to find one if you fly Northeast from here.”

Whirlwind perked up. “Oh, good! I must say, I’m quite impressed with your navigation skills. I barely know what ‘Northeast’ is, myself.”

Marinette forced a smile in response. The akuma wouldn’t think so highly of her if they knew that she was only pointing them in the opposite direction of the café. 

They started moving again, the fresh surge of wind almost making it difficult to breathe as they rushed over the rooftops. It reminded Marinette of the time she had to fight Santa Clause while standing on top of his weird, gizmo sleigh, except this time she didn’t have Tikki’s magic to protect her. 

Her eyes flicked to the streets below, a part of her wondering what would happen if she fell, another part of her wondering if that’s what she’d have to resort to to get out of this mess. 

Come on, Marinette, think! She told herself. Come up with an excuse! Something to get you on the ground. The company is.. Unground? You need to.. Go to the bathroom? Get your phone? You’re-

“Airsick!” She gasped. “I’m getting airsick!”

In hindsight, she probably should have thought the excuse through before blurting out her imaginary nausea- how would she escape once Whirlwind brought her to ground? Would she make another excuse to go inside? How would Marinette be able to slip away to go transform if she made it that far? -but it had a decent effect. Whirlwind immediately stopped, causing the winds behind them to burst forward. Marinette briefly wondered how fast they’d been going to create such a force when coming to an abrupt halt.

“What was that?” Whirlwind asked. “I couldn’t hear you over my winds.”

Marinette hesitated. This was her chance to change the excuse if she wanted to. Should she stick with her airsick story or change it? What would she change it to? Should she just wait for another opportunity to arise? But what if this was her only chance to escape?

“I-”

Before she could utter a word about landing, a silver staff flew past her, smacking Whirlwind right in the stomach. The akuma let out a yelp of surprise and pain as she was launched backwards, and the winds curling around Marinette’s arms and legs lost their holds. That might have been ideal.. had she not been dangling over five stories high in the air. 

A scream ripped itself from Marinette’s lungs as she plummeted towards the ground, her arms flailing for support that simply wasn’t there. All coherent thoughts spiraled out of control as the deafening winds rushed around her. This wasn’t part of the plan. She needed to stop falling- she needed to grab something. Were there people in the street? Were there cars below her? What was she going to land on? How close was the ground? Was she going to survive the hit? What was going to happen if she couldn’t help fight the akuma?

Ice cold terror gripped her pounding heart, and she shimmied in the air to look for witnesses should she transform. What other choice did she have? She couldn’t allow herself to die. The Ladybug miraculous was too important.

Adrenaline coursed through her veins, helping her panic with more “what if”s but giving her no solutions. What if someone saw her? What if Whirlwind saw her, giving Hawkmoth her identity? What if she hit the ground before she fully had time to transform? Everything was happening so slowly yet so fast all at once. Time was crawling as her mind raced, but in the blink of an eye, the grey strip that was the road grew five times as wide as it was before in her teary, blurred vision, and Marinette knew her time was running out. She needed to do something, and she needed to do it now.

“Tikki, spots-”

A grunt cut her off as she landed in a pair of leather-clad arms. They pulled her closer to the chest of her savior, who flashed her an all too familiar smirk. 

“Don’t worry, Miss.” Chat Noir said, hopping across a few cars while he carried her to safety. “I’ve got y- wait.”

His pace slowed, though not by much considering the circumstances, and he stared down at her with wide eyes. “Marinette?”

Although her mind was reeling from almost- you know -falling to her death, she wrapped her arms around his neck, a relieved smile spreading onto her lips. “Chat Noir. Right on time, as always.”

“I- What are you doing here? And why is your face all red?” He asked, bewildered. She didn’t blame him. It’d been a while since they saw each other on the battlefield, let alone in a place so far from her house or school with her face the color of a cherry tomato.

“I was having lunch with my friends, and there was a small accident in Chemistry class earlier.” She explained, glancing over Chat’s shoulder to make sure the akuma wasn’t following them. Aside from a few car alarms and faint police sirens, it was quiet. Whirlwind must have a slow recovery time. That was going to come in handy later.

Chat Noir stopped in a random alleyway and carefully set her back down on her own two feet. “You mean the friends from your new school?”

Marinette wobbled a bit and placed a firm hand on his shoulder to regain balance. Now that she wasn’t in imminent danger, the shock and adrenaline in her body seemed to be wearing off. It left her heart racing and her body shaking, but she’d fallen enough times to know that it would pass in a few minutes as well. (And wasn’t it sad that she could say that?)

“Those would be the ones.” She replied after a few deep breaths. “We got attacked as we were leaving, and I went to lure Whirlwind away from everyone. I didn’t count on her picking me up to leave.”

Chat Noir frowned, offering a soft rub on the back to help her relax. “I appreciate your tenacity, Princess, but you could’ve gotten seriously hurt! You need to leave the rescuing to us heroes.”

Marinette resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Felix had said the same thing back at the café, neither of them realizing the horrible irony that she was one of the heroes. Sometimes she just wanted to expose her identity to Paris simply so she could do her job as Ladybug in peace without any resistance. 

“Anyway, I actually wanted to ask you about your new school.” Chat Noir remarked, bringing her from her mullings.

Marinette gave him a questioning look. Wasn’t he supposed to be fighting the akuma right now? Whirlwind wasn’t going to stay down forever. He needed to stay focused on the task at hand, dang it! Or at least leave her alone so she could transform and tell him to focus as Ladybug!

“Where did you go, you mangy cat!” The akuma roared in the distance. “Come out and face me like a proper hero!”

Aaaand she’s up now. Marinette mentally sighed. It was going to be hard knocking her down again. With her winds protecting her, an ambush will be the only way to get close, and she’ll be expecting that now. Maybe she can find another way to get the folder-fan thing. (That’s what she assumed to be the akumatized object, anyway.)

“Woops,” Chat Noir muttered, his gaze flicking towards the sky. Woops would be right.

“That’s my queue to go.” He said, offering her another quick smile before taking out his staff. “Stay safe, Princess!”

His staff extended, which vaulted him into the air, and he disappeared onto the rooftops above, out of sight. 

Finally, Marinette thought. She was starting to wonder if he’d ever leave.

“Marinette!” As soon as the coast was clear, Tikki zipped out of her purse, flying around her holder with a worried look. “Are you alright? You didn’t get hurt, did you? That was too close!”

“I’m fine, Tikki.” Marinette assured with a soft smile. “See? I’m not even shaking anymore. I just hope we can defeat this akuma before next class period. You know how much Felix hates being late.”

Tikki giggled. “I think he’ll understand being a little late today.”

Marinette chuckled. “Tikki, spots on!”

Magic wrapped around her skin in a flash of bright light, creating her signature red and black-spotted costume. A smile graced her lips at the surge of power that washed over her body, and she threw her yo-yo towards the top of the rooftop. Now she was ready to face Whirlwind.

Her yo-yo pulled her onto the rooftop that Chat Noir stepped onto moments prior, but by the time she got up there, he was already blocks away and fighting against Whirlwind as best he could on his own. It.. wasn’t going well, but that served him right for wasting time while the akuma was vulnerable.

Nevertheless, Ladybug threw out her yo-yo again to swing in their direction. She still had to protect Paris, after all, and if she waited any longer, she might be fighting Whirlwind alone while trying not to look Chat Noir’s civilian self in the eyes. 

Hopefully she was underestimating him, because it only took half a swing for something else to stop her in her tracks. 

It was a cry. But not just any cry. Someone was calling out her name.

Her civilian name.

Ladybug’s arms flailed around as she stumbled onto another rooftop, and she looked to the streets below for the source. There should only be about four other people- aside from Chat -who knew her civilian self was in that area, and that fact had her begging that she’d heard something wrong. 

She should have known that she’d never be that lucky, though, despite her powers literally being based around life and luck. It took less than a second for her to spot a blonde boy in dark clothing running through the streets where she’d initially fallen as Marinette, and in all honesty.. she was stunned to see him. Not because she truly thought that the universe would be convenient for once, but because.. it was Felix. Not Claude or Allegra or Allan, who she’d certainly expected to be crazy enough to follow after her, but Felix. 

Felix who makes a point of avoiding people as much as possible because he supposedly hates them.

Felix who would usually rather stay home than go anywhere with the group at any time because he claims they are torture to be around.

Felix who had looked too terrified to even move right before she lured the akuma away from the café.

He was there, and he was searching for her. Not only that, he was desperately searching for her. Moving the debris that he could, looking through car windows, calling out her name multiple times- he was doing everything in his power to find her. And she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t extremely touched by the sight. Felix has helped her so much over the past month, but she’d always assumed that that was done out of the kindness of his own heart, not because he liked her, especially with how often he griped and grumbled about the trio dragging him to their group hangouts. Seeing him so worried now, though.. It almost made her smile despite herself. 

He really did care about them, didn’t he?

Ladybug shook her head and swung down to the street he was on. Whirlwind probably wouldn’t try to harm him purposely, but that didn’t mean the loose debris from the fight a few blocks down would magically avoid hitting him. She needed to get him to safety before the akuma realized that her second opponent had arrived.

“Sir, it’s not safe here.” She said as she landed behind him. “You need to come with me.”

Felix jumped out of his skin and whirled around. His expression was coated with terror and frustration, once again throwing Ladybug off. She’d never seen him this frantic before. 

“Oh, thank goodness.” He said after realizing who she was. “Please, I need your help. My friend- her name’s Marinette. She tried to lure the akuma to help us and got kidnapped! I tried to follow them, but they moved too fast. And then I saw her fall and-”

Recounting the events put him in a fresh state of panic, and he ran a hand through his hair as he scanned the streets once again. 

“I understand,” She replied softly, placing a hand on his shoulder to hopefully calm him down, “but I need to remain calm for me, okay? We’re going to clear the area, and then I’ll do everything in my power to find her.”

Felix’s gaze snapped to hers. “What? No, I don’t think you understand. She fell! She might be suffocating under the debris or critically injured in an alleyway or on a rooftop somewhere! We can’t just leave!”

Ladybug held back a smile towards his concern, as that would be wildly inappropriate at the moment, and reached down to pick him up. “I’m sure she would appreciate the sentiment, sir, but you being here makes our jobs harder. Please let us handle this. I’m sure she’s perfectly safe somewhere.”

“What are you-” Felix gasped as she scooped him up bridal style, and the mix of sheer outrage and bafflement that exploded onto his features once he realized what was happening made her wish that she had a camera. 

“Put me down this instant!” He demanded, scrambling in her hold. “I need to find Marinette!”

“We’ll do that,” Ladybug promised, “just as soon as I get you somewhere safe.”

Jumping over cars and weaving through alleyways, she managed to carry Felix a good few blocks away within five or ten minutes. He was strangely light for being so tall. Even as he continued to squirm in her grasp, she had no trouble lifting him to a sheltered and secluded area. 

“This is ridiculous!” Felix hissed, throwing himself off of her when she finally allowed him to do so. “What kind of hero ignores a person in need! Aren’t you supposed to save those injured by the akuma? Marinette could be out there dead while I’m perfectly fine, yet you waste time taking me somewhere I don’t want to go! Have some common sense and prioritize! Listen to what I’m telling you!”

Ladybug pursed her lips to avoid a sigh. If it weren’t for the fact that plenty of other people who were just like this made her job way more difficult than it already was, she would probably be laughing a bit towards the irony of his claims. “Sir, every life is a priority to us-”

A scream echoed in the distance, one that abruptly grew louder as the source grew nearer. Ladybug shifted into a fighting stance, but by the time she pulled out her yo-yo to use as a weapon, a blur of black was flying right past them. 

It landed hard in a dumpster near the end of the alleyway, a deep groan erupting from the surprise visitor a moment later. That fall clearly hadn’t been pleasant for whoever got thrown, and Ladybug had a pretty good idea of who that person was. Not many people got thrown around by akumas on a near-weekly basis.

“You okay, Chat?” She asked, putting away her yo-yo as she moved forward to help him up.

Her partner eyed her through a pained, squinted gaze while he rubbed the back of his head. “..My lady? When did you get here?”

She offered a smile and helped him sit up as she answered, “Only a few minutes ago. I was helping a civilian get to safety.”

Chat’s gaze slid to the spot over her shoulder, where she assumed Felix was standing, and a frown tugged at the corner of his lips.

“You’re here too?”

The question was more of muttered, but she heard it all the same, her eyebrows knitting together. What did he mean ‘too’? Did they know each other?

“I’m looking for my friend.” Felix spoke up, jumping at the opportunity to recruit another hero. It was probably for a good thing, since she didn’t want to think too much on who Chat did or didn’t know personally. “She was taken captive by the akuma while trying to protect us and fell from the air about twenty minutes ago. Have you seen her?”

Chat’s eyes widened, confusion and surprise swirling onto his features. Ladybug, for the life of her, couldn’t figure out why. Her alter ego had told him that she risked her life to save her friends. Minor surprise should have been the only reaction he had to that question. 

“Wait..” Her partner said with furrowed eyebrows. “Was this girl’s name Marinette?”

Felix straightened, hope rising to his silver eyes. “You know her?”

“I put her in an alleyway a few blocks from here.” Chat Noir answered, gesturing in the general direction. “She was a bit shaken up, but otherwise fine. How do you-”

“No time for chit-chat.” Ladybug interrupted. She wasn’t going to get trapped in another one of Chat Noir’s spiraling conversations. “We kind of have an akuma to take care of.”

Chat Noir pushed himself out of the dumpster, and although he looked reluctant to drop the subject, he nodded. “Right. I’m ready when you are.”

Ladybug gave a satisfied nod and turned back to Felix. 

“I know you’re worried for your friend,” She said, “but she’s safe. So I would greatly appreciate it if you went and hid until all of this was over. If you don’t, it’ll only make defeating Whirlwind harder.”

Felix frowned, clearly not on board with the idea, but he agreed anyway. “I’ll.. go back to the café. My other friends should be there waiting for us.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

Felix spun on his heel and started off in the opposite direction of Whirlwind, to her relief. With him out of the way, taking down Hawkmoth’s newest pawn should be a piece of cake.

“You ready, Chat?” 

Her partner didn’t respond, drawing her gaze over to him. He was staring at Felix with a quiet frown, watching the blonde walk away. Why did he look so troubled by the sight of the blond?

“Chat?”

This time his ears twitched, and he turned back to Ladybug with a questioning gaze. “Huh? Sorry, I got.. distracted.”

Ladybug tilted her head to the side slightly. “Are you sure you’re okay? You looked upset.”

Chat waved off the comment, plastering on a smile. “Nah, you know me, My Lady. I’m perfect, as always.”

She frowned. “If you’re sure.. I think I have a plan to beat the akuma. Are you ready?”

“You know I am.”

“Good. Then get ready to be the distraction.” She replied, quickly throwing her yo-yo into the air. “Lucky Charm!”

~~~~~~

Adrien ran through the Parisian streets, following the tip of their school building to find his way back. That akuma took longer than he thought it would. By the time he got back to class, it’d probably be over. 

So much for gaining more free time to go see Marinette. He thought, sparing a glance down the alleyway that he’d dropped her in as Chat Noir. It was empty now, as one would expect. LB’s miraculous ladybugs would have brought her back to where she was before the fight started. Even so, he couldn’t help feeling disappointed. It was the first time he’d seen her in almost two weeks as Adrien or Chat Noir, and possibly his only chance to talk to her for a long while. Tardiness at Dupont was pardoned when they got attacked by the akuma directly, but running off to video- or even capture -it wasn’t permitted. When Father saw his disciplinary marks, Adrien’s already tight schedule would no doubt coil around him even further. 

Adrien paused to catch his breath- running to school was so much easier as Chat Noir -and scanned the street for Alya. They needed to regroup before he got back to class or it might be suspicious on his part, since he specifically said that he was going to keep Alya safe. (Note to self: never use Alya as an excuse again.)

“Alya!” He called out. “Can you hear me?”

He’d wanted to go find that café that the blond guy from Rosemary mentioned, just to see if he could at least spot Marinette and maybe even catch her as Adrien, but Whirlwind ended up taking all of his free time. It was admittedly frustrating, being so close yet so far when it came to talking with her. They lived in the same city, for Pete’s sake! He should be able to drive over to her house and say hi without any struggle at all!

Speaking of which, what was with that blond guy? He totally lied about Marinette attending Rosemary! Unless they hadn’t met yet when Adrien first visited.. but that didn’t make any sense. He visited after Marinette said that she had her new friends come to her house, the same friends that were with her at the café. Meaning the blond guy. 

Adrien could give him the benefit of the doubt and say it was an honest mistake. Perhaps that guy really hadn’t met Marinette yet and she was referring to other friends that they were with. It did sound like she had a whole group now. Besides, why would the guy lie for no reason? People don’t usually do that. 

Either way, Adrien knew which school Marinette was at now, and that was all that mattered. His plan to go apologize could finally be put into action.

“Adrien?” 

A faint reply caught his attention, and Adrien glanced up to see Alya wandering around at the end of the street. 

“Is that you?�� She asked, looking around for him as well.

Adrien put on a smile and waved his hand as he approached her. “Yeah, it’s me! Where did you go? I couldn’t find you!”

“I was trying to get a shot of the akuma, but by the time I got here, the fight was practically over!” She answered, spotting him a second later and moving to meet him halfway. “Where did you go? You disappeared in, like, the first five minutes! How did you get down here so fast?”

“Oh, uh..” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck, nervousness crawling onto his features. He probably should have come up with an excuse for his absence before he tracked Alya down. “I decided to take a shortcut. I guess I should have told you?”

Alya scrunched up her nose. “A shortcut? I don’t remember any shortcuts around here.. Well, I’m sure there will be other chances to film akumas. It just stinks that I didn’t get to record the hostage situation. Did you happen to see who that was? It looked like a girl from where I was standing.”

“Sorry, Al.” Adrien said, offering a sheepish look. Chat Noir might know it was Marinette who fell, but he did not. “I got there after the hostage was rescued.”

Alya clicked her tongue, displeased. “Drat. Did you see anything interesting while you were out there?”

Define interesting. Adrien thought to himself. Finding Marinette and the blond who was looking for her in the same battle had been extremely interesting to him, but he doubted Alya would feel the same way. 

“She had a pretty cool costume.” He recounted as they started their way back to the school together. “It was all blue with a white cloak and this weird, spinning, white skirt thing. She also used a white and dark blue folder as a fan to control the wind. That ended up being the akumatized object, if I remember correctly-”

“Oh, hang on.” Alya cut in, switching to the memo on her phone. “Let me write this down for the blog. I got some of the footage, but it was grainy at best because of the distance. These details are great to add to it. Did you see anything else?”

Adrien thought over what he could tell her and what he should keep secret. Would he be able to know what the lucky charm was if he was watching from a random alleyway or behind a car?

“Not really.” He answered. Giving more information at this point might not end well for him if his lady followed the blog. She was too clever not to put things like that together. “You’re not going to name-drop me on the blog, are you?”

Alya shook her head. “No, no, you know I keep my sources a secret. It would lead other reporters to my scoops.”

“Right.” Adrien replied, relieved. Not only would name-dropping compromise his personal tips, it would also give people the opportunity to look for him through news footage and other things. He didn’t want anyone disproving the excuses that he’d given to Alya about his whereabouts. “That makes sense.”

Once she jotted down Adrien’s comments, Alya pulled out her phone to rewatch the footage. Although the image was being jostled around a bit from walking, he could still see how utterly grainy the video was. He could barely tell who was who, and he was one of the people who actually fought in the battle. The only reason he knew it was Ladybug snatching the akumatized object at the end was because she was the only one who had red pixels. 

“I would have just shot the scene without zooming in,” Alya said as she put the phone away, “but doing that made everyone look like specks. I hope Lila can clean it up for me.”

Adrien furrowed his eyebrows. “I didn’t know Lila edited videos.”

“Oh, she doesn’t.” Alya smiled. “She has an uncle who’s this big-time movie editor.”

Ah. Another famous uncle. He wondered if that was the same uncle who was supposed to be an incredible actor or the one that owned a humongous plaza. Gosh, did Lila even have any uncles in real life?

“You think he’s going to have time to do it?” He asked.

“Maybe not, but it couldn’t hurt to ask, right?” 

Adrien shrugged. No, it couldn’t hurt. At least not until Lila promises to get it to her uncle and then never gives the video back. How many false promises has she made now? There was the one where she said that she would get a gig for Nino, one to Alex about getting her this special, glow-in-the-dark spray paint, one to Max about getting some high-tech chip for Markov- She’d promised so many things that he couldn’t even remember most of them now! How long until those words buried her alive? How long until his classmates actually started demanding the fruits from her supposed labor? Were they just going to wait on her to deliver for the rest of their lives? 

Adrien heaved a small sigh. He would make them see reason eventually. He would.

But first he needed to pay another visit to Rosemary.

~~~~~~

Marinette pushed herself to go faster as she weaved through the different alleyways that led back to the café. Her legs were already aching from the fight that Whirlwind had dragged out, but she imagined the pain to be minor in comparison to how worried sick her friends probably were at this point. As a civilian, she should have made it back to the café about twenty minutes ago, give or take. If it weren’t for the multiple calls and messages asking if she was okay and her frantic responses that “yes, I’m fine, but please stay put till I get there”, then the group would probably be searching the streets for her right now. She would have stayed transformed to get back, but the fight drained all of Tikki’s energy. Marinette was lucky to have found an alleyway to even hide in before she de-transformed. 

Come on, come on, She thought, her gaze flicking left and right. I know it was around here somewhere- oh!

Marinette lit up at the sight of the café. She could see the group standing in front of it, huddled together and looking around to try and spot her. Felix was a step or two behind the trio with a deep frown on his lips and his arms crossed against his chest. His fingers tapped rapidly against his bicep, giving way to his nervousness towards her absence, and he glanced from side to side along with the others. His franticness from earlier appeared to be contained now, but still very much there. 

“Guys!” She called out, breaking into another sprint despite her body’s protest. She was going to have to grab an ice pack or two once she got home.

The group’s attention immediately snapped to her, and the trio practically sank to the ground with relief.

“Marinette!”

“Where have you been?!”

“We’ve been worried sick-”

They collided into her with a group hug, each sniffing and blubbering about not being able to find her. Claude was out right crying into her shoulder.

Marinette hugged them all back and apologized profusely, the guilt from upsetting them to this point twisting sharply through her stomach and heart. She couldn’t bear to see them this way, and the fact that this was inevitably going to happen again only made it worse. 

“I’m so sorry for making you worry.” She said, wiping away a tear of her own. “When Chat Noir save me, I was told to stay put till the fight was over, and-”

“No, don’t apologize.” Allegra interrupted with a watery smile. “We’re just happy you’re safe.”

A scoff brought their attention up to Felix, who was now standing next to them. 

“Don’t apologize?” He repeated, glaring at the other three in disbelief. “She almost got herself killed! Are we supposed to encourage that behavior?”

“She was trying to protect us.” Allan defended. “She was only doing what she thought was right.”

“And that’s supposed to make it better?” Felix countered. “She was reckless and idiotic! There were a million other ways to make it out of there safely without getting yourself kidnapped.”

“Hey, lay off!” Claude yelled, sounding surprisingly angry. “She’s been through a lot today already, so just leave her alone!”

“So, you’re willing to just let this slide?” Felix asked, growing agitated himself. “You’re telling me that as long as she dies out of the ‘goodness of her heart’, then it’s fine?”

“She didn’t die!”

“But she could have!” He shot back. “Doesn’t that bother any of you? What if the heroes didn’t get there in time? What if Whirlwind decided she didn’t care for civilians anymore before they even arrived? What would have happened if the miraculous cure couldn’t bring her back for some reason? There were too many variables that she didn’t know about and she went anyway. That’s not something that should be praised!”

Allegra shot him a glare. “Felix-”

“No.” Marinette interrupted, putting a hand on Allegra’s shoulder as the girl trailed off. “No, he’s right. I wasn’t thinking properly, and I jumped in with a plan that half-formed at best and didn’t look for other options until it was too late. I thought I was running out of time and panicked, but that’s no excuse.”

Marinette stepped forward, and Felix quietly stared at her in response. His eyebrows were still furrowed, the grief of the situation reflecting in his silvery blue eyes. She understood why he was angry and upset. She understood why he had that desperate look in his eyes as he tried to explain his displeasure towards her behavior. Felix was the only one to see her fall, after all. The only one to know how close to death she actually was. Seeing Chat Noir sacrifice himself over and over again helped her know exactly what that felt like.

She wanted to pull him into a hug, to tell him that everything was okay now and that she was okay now, but touch wasn’t exactly his thing. So she settled for something she knew was alright and lightly grabbed his hand.

“I really am sorry.” She apologized again. “I promise I’ll be more careful next time.”

Felix’s gaze softened slightly, and he shocked her by lightly squeezing her hand back. “I’d rather there not be a next time.”

Marinette offered a small, sheepish smile, knowing she couldn’t make that promise. She had too many responsibilities as Ladybug to stay away from akumas completely, but she could try to avoid them as a civilian. For his sake and the others’.

Allegra placed a gentle hand on Marinette’s back. “We should head back to the school. They don’t really give us lee-way for being late.”

“Well, they should today since we kind of got attacked,” Allan spoke up, “but I don’t quote me on that. Also, I’m calling my turn on driving Marinette.”

Allegra and Claude put a hand to their chests and gasped, both knowing that Allan hadn’t called a turn yet which made him automatically win. Marinette caught a smirk twitching onto Felix’s lips due to this fact, and she smiled with him, mainly because it was nice seeing him relax again.

“Oh no!” Claude said defiantly. “If you’re taking Marinette, then I’m gonna be riding with you too!”

“Same here!” Allegra agreed. “I’m not leaving her side until the teachers are forcing us to for our next classes.”

Marinette let out a small chuckle. “Is there enough room for that?”

“There is now.” 

Allan snorted. “Yeah, we’ll be fine. Our cars are pretty big.”

“Are you going to be riding with us too, Felix?” Allegra asked, glancing at the blond.

Felix’s hand tightened slightly around Marinette’s, but he shook his head. “No, I.. I think I’m gonna drive back alone.”

Claude frowned. “Seriously? After that whole rant you made two seconds ago?”

“Aw, let him be.” Allan said, waving off Claude’s comment. “It’s just more Marinette for us, right?”

Although the frown remained, the brunette made a half-shrug. “I guess that’s true..”

“Cool.” Allegra smiled. “Then I call the seat next to Marinette!”

“What!” Claude scoffed, whirling back to Allegra. “You can’t do that!”

“I just did.”

“Technically,” Allan cut in, “I should get to sit next to her, since I’m the one driving her.”

Allegra and Claude both shot him a glare, bringing out a giggle from Marinette. They did not seem to appreciate Allan’s accurate logic. 

Her gaze shifted to Felix, who was silently watching the trio bicker. His expression was neutral again, composed, but the way he continued to hold onto her hand told her that he wasn’t quite alright yet.

“So..” She said, almost awkwardly. Should she try to make him feel better? “I guess I’ll.. see you at school?”

Felix’s eyes flicked to her, and she mentally slapped herself for even speaking. “See you at school”? What kind of dull question was that?

“Yes.” He answered. The response was shorter than usual, but she’d try not to overthink it, since the last hour has been a long one for all of them. That’s probably why he decided to drive back alone in the first place. 

Allegra cut into the conversation by looping her arm with Marinette’s and pulling her towards Allan’s. The movement was quick and sudden, and it caused her hand to slip out of Felix’s in the process. She glanced down at her palm, curious at the sense of emptiness that immediately swept over it. It was as though she hadn’t been ready to let go herself. 

Marinette looked back to Felix to see if he felt it too, but his back was already turned to her as he walked back to his own car.

Huh. 

Maybe it was just her. 

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[robininthelabyrinth]

Tedious Joys - Chapter 4 -

- Ao3 link -

It had been an inauspicious year to begin with.

A poor harvest led to famine among the common people, which in turn created conditions ripe for evil creatures of all sorts; the night-hunts that were often treated as playful competition by the cultivation world became more like the boring drudgery of everyday work, disciples setting off in packs on a regular basis all over, time and time again. The tension wore on the sects, some more than others, and dozens of small disputes began to rise up, needing to be dealt with. Lan Qiren’s schedule became busy, and then busier, and then became overwhelming; he was forced to discard one pastime after another in his efforts to hold back the rising tide, and in the end sacrificed sleep and sometimes meals to preserve only two: playing for Jiwei and spending time with his nephews.

It meant that he was unprepared, both mentally and physically, for word of the death of Cangse Sanren and her husband, which took over two years to finally come to ears of the Great Sects – such a shocking failure of information that Lan Qiren briefly wondered if it had been concealed intentionally.

The sudden shock of grief hit him hard.

He tried to convince himself that he had expected it, that she had expected it, that at least her son was now safe in the Lotus Pier, and yet all he could think about was that he had one less friend in the world. The sadness interfered with his focus, creeping in at all hours, uncontrollable, until one evening he was playing guqin with his nephews and looked up to find them both weeping uncontrollably from the music he was playing. When he tried to stop mid-song, he abruptly collapsed, and upon waking was informed that he had become feverish at some point in the night.

His sect doctors advised him to go into seclusion until he could control himself.

Lan Qiren refused.

They advised him again, this time with greater insistence, and with the support of his sect elders.

“Tell them to fuck off,” Lao Nie suggested, pouring a calming tea that he’d brought from Qinghe.

He’d come to visit with his sons, Nie Mingjue disappearing with Lan Xichen as always and Nie Huaisang engaged in the newest stage in his eternal battle of wills with Lan Wangji over a game of weiqi that they were both taking far, far too seriously.

(Despite knowing Lan Wangji and indeed Nie Huaisang better than most people alive, Lan Qiren honestly could not determine whether the two of them despised each other or were close friends. Lao Nie claimed the answer was both, simultaneously, but Lan Qiren didn’t understand that at all.)

“That is not how we do things here,” Lan Qiren said, accepting a cup. It was rude for him to allow a fellow sect leader who was his guest to serve him, rather than the other way around, but he had a headache from the persistent fever and exhaustion that was even more persistent, the boundless river of grief in his heart translating into physical agony, and anyway Lao Nie hadn’t exactly asked permission before proceeding. “It would be more appropriate for me to present a well-reasoned case for it not being necessary, based on rules, authority, and precedent.”

“Except you can’t put one together because you’re upset and tired,” Lao Nie said with a snort. “That’s stupid. You’re overworked, stretched too thin, you just found out that your friend is dead – you need sleep, not seclusion. Anyway, what happens if you do go into seclusion? Aren’t they always saying they need you to stick around to be Sect Leader so desperately?”

Lan Qiren rubbed his eyes. “It would not be true seclusion. I would be expected to continue certain parts of the work.”

“You’re joking.”

“It would be primarily administrative correspondence –”

“By that token, your brother ought to do it!”

Lan Qiren glared. “It’s not the same and you know it. And they are not wrong that I need rest.”

“From what I recall of what you’ve told me about your sect’s practice of seclusion, that’s not rest,” Lao Nie said acidly. “Surely there’s something I can do to help. I could send over some of my disciples…”

“Excellent idea,” Lan Qiren said, rolling his eyes. “We can replace all those rumors that I’ve been secretly pining for years over my best female friend with ones regarding my best male friend.”

“It is a little ‘hero rushes to save the lady’, isn’t it?” Lao Nie said thoughtfully, shaking his head in amusement. “But seriously, I came here for a reason, and it’s not Jiwei or A-Jue or anything like that. You’re always trying to help me, Qiren. For once, let me help you.”

Lan Qiren would normally protest this – because Lao Nie had so done many things for him over the years that it was an incorrect statement, because he hated the helpless feeling of letting someone do things for him, because that wasn’t something sect leaders did for each other – but he was tired and he feared seclusion and sometimes he thought it might be nice to do one thing that could be considered a little reckless before he died.

“Very well,” he said, closing his eyes and drinking the tea. “Do as you like.”

That was a dangerous thing to say to someone like Lao Nie, who promptly pulled three dozen Nie sect disciples from out of nowhere and sent them scurrying around hunting down evil with the energetic enthusiasm of youth entrusted with gigantic sabers and the freedom to use them as they would, while he himself settled in very happily in Lan Qiren’s home, sleeping on a guest bed, keeping away unwanted visitors and helping with any paperwork that didn’t explicitly require a Lan. He also recruited Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen to assist, despite Lan Qiren’s protests that bureaucratic busywork was not an appropriate way for boys of approximately fifteen and definitely twelve, respectively, to spend their time; both of them very solemnly assured Lan Qiren that they were more than happy to do whatever they could.

Even little Lan Wangji and Nie Huaisang bullied their way into being involved, insisting that they wanted to do it more than they wanted to train or play, although at their ages there really wasn’t much they could do besides grind ink and run messages to the relevant recipients.

As Lan Qiren might have expected, rumors immediately started about some sort of torrid affair – life would be so much easier if everyone obeyed the rules against gossiping purposelessly – and they even got to the point that several of the sect elders cautiously hinted to him that although cutsleeve relationships were far from being in vogue, they had at no point been explicitly forbidden by the rules, and cited several provisions which seemed to favor such things.

Lan Qiren had thanked them for the reminder and caustically commented that he would be sure to incorporate that into his next set of lectures as he could see no other reason for them to mention it, and soon enough they backed off, shaking their heads. Still, those busybodies that had his best interests in mind were still preferable to the ones that started once more raising the idea of finding him a nice bride of suitable age – by suitable age, they meant too old for children, lest he get any idea of challenging his brother’s line of descent – before he did anything foolish like fall in love, or, worse, to act on it.

Obviously he had no intentions of permitting that.

Still, after a month of enforced rest, Lan Qiren was feeling a bit more himself. He took on more and more of the work, albeit supervised by five sets of judging eyes, and even began to play once more, this time without bringing anyone to tears. Jiwei and Xinfei rested together by the door in comfortable equilibrium, hot and cold, weak and powerful, and the jade pendant that Lan Qiren carried with him remained cool to the touch, not hot at all.

“You will need to go soon,” he told Lao Nie, who shrugged, not denying it – a month was a long time for a sect leader to be away from home absent some valid excuse like a war, not quite too long but starting to push it. No matter how effective one’s deputies were nor how much work one did from a distance, a sect leader was still necessary, in the end, or else Lan Qiren’s life would have been very different.

“Next week,” he said. “That’ll give me just enough time to take the boys home before heading back out again for the conference in Qishan.”

“There’s a conference? I wasn’t informed.”

“No, you weren’t, because I didn’t inform you,” Lao Nie said, utterly shameless. “You’re going to stay here and rest. It’s just a stupid party.”

“That doesn’t matter if it is also a stupid party which everyone else is attending,” Lan Qiren said sternly.

“Jiang Fengmian isn’t going, either,” Lao Nie said. “Doesn’t want to leave his new ward alone just yet…newest rumor has it that Wei Wuxian’s his bastard with Cangse Sanren.”

Lan Qiren shut his eyes. “Of course. Wasn’t I the one having the affair with her last week?”

“Perhaps it was a love triangle?”

“A square, at minimum. Don’t forget she had a husband.”

“A pyramid!”

“Lao Nie…”

Lao Nie laughed. “Jin Guangshan isn’t making it, either. His wife’s giving birth – predictions say to a daughter, I think, assuming this one survives the birth – and all accounts say that she’s threatened to cut his balls off if he even thinks of leaving Lanling City. So, you see, it really is just a stupid party, and by missing it you’ll be doing just the same thing as all the other Great Sects.”

Lan Qiren felt a sudden stab of misgiving. “Except you.”

“Except me,” Lao Nie said cheerfully. “Me and Hanhan.”

Lan Qiren truly did not want to know what went on in Lao Nie’s mind sometimes.

“Why don’t you refrain from going as well?” he asked, aware he sounded tetchy and irritable like some jealous wife in an opera. “If no one else is going.”

“Oh, I have to go. A-Han asked for me specifically,” Lao Nie said, and Lan Qiren thought to himself oh I’m certain he did, then promptly felt bad about doing so. Sneering for no reason was prohibited. “Someone’s gifted him with some magnificent saber for his collection, apparently, and he was boasting that it was the best there was right up until someone stuck their nose in it and said that it was all well and good but no comparison to my Jiwei.”

Lan Qiren could imagine exactly how well a statement like that had gone over with Wen Ruohan.

“And now he’s demanding you show up and produce evidence?” he asked, unimpressed.

Lao Nie grinned. “Ah, Qiren, it’s almost like you’ve met the man before.”

“You shouldn’t encourage him,” Lan Qiren said. “Why should you go just because he asked? He’s your equal, not your master.”

“There’s no harm in giving him some face.”

Lan Qiren could think of several ways that it could lead to harm, the inflation of Wen Ruohan’s already bloated ego being not the least of them, but Lao Nie was his equal as well, his equal and his elder. If the man had made up his mind, as it clearly appeared that he had, there was nothing Lan Qiren could say that would change it.

“Good luck, then,” he said, shaking his head, and called the boys to come in for dinner. As usual, the Lan half of the table remained mute while the Nie half did nothing but chatter, each according to their own family custom. It was a test of wills and endurance – Lan Wangji’s eye kept twitching every time Nie Huaisang filled in words for him, possibly due to the extremely high pitch Nie Huaisang chose to represent him – but it was a joy to share the time with them nonetheless.

Before Lao Nie left, Lan Qiren tried, not for the first time, to press the jade pendant that resonated with Jiwei into his hand. “You should take it with you,” he insisted. “Especially if you’re going to the Nightless City to exhibit your saber – there’s a great deal of resentful energy there, and you know that always gets Jiwei’s bloodlust up.”

“Which in turn will sharpen my reflexes, just when I need them most,” Lao Nie said, pressing the jade pendant right back into Lan Qiren’s hand. “Better you have it.”

“Lao Nie…”

“Jiwei likes you now,” Lao Nie said, as if that mattered. “She’s been just as avid to protect you as I’ve been, this past month – if I didn’t need her by my side, I’d almost be tempted to leave her here with you.”

Lan Qiren arched his eyebrows. “Are you suggesting that I can’t protect myself? Here? In the Cloud Recesses?”

“Saber spirits are not smart, Qiren. But even she can tell that you’re not well yet.”

Lan Qiren waved a hand dismissively. “Well enough,” he said, and it was even true – the grief was still there, of course, and likely would be every time he thought of Cangse Sanren in the near future, excluding maybe the few times when it was one of his students that resembled her only in terms of how much mischief she would get up to, but it was no longer drowning him. He had hope that, in time, this wound would also scab over and the hurt fade, and that at that time he could once again think of her with nothing but joy.

Lao Nie huffed. “Well enough isn’t well,” he grumbled, but that didn’t stop him from gathering his children and his disciples and heading out back towards Qinghe. ���Take care of yourself, Qiren! Be well!”

“And you,” Lan Qiren said. “Keep out of trouble, my friend.”

From what he later heard, the party at the Nightless City went about as anyone with half a brain might have expected: Wen Ruohan swanned around until Lao Nie showed up, there were tense words exchanged, and then Lao Nie produced Jiwei, allowing Wen Ruohan to examine her and even pat her a few times before the Wen sect leader was forced, with great reluctance and through gritted teeth, to admit her superiority to the saber he had received.

The stories ended there, but Lan Qiren had enough imagination to fill in how the rest of the night might have gone, especially with the only sect leaders there being Lao Nie and Wen Ruohan. He sincerely hoped that Lao Nie had remembered all those lectures he’d given him about the foolishness of lying in the same bed as poisonous snakes, no matter how beautiful they might be on the surface.

Perhaps he had, perhaps he hadn’t.

Either way, Lan Qiren heard nothing else until the day he interrupted his own afternoon lecture with a sudden cry of intense pain – the jade pendant had abruptly gone so hot that it had burned, and although his clothing, protected by stitched-in incantations, was unharmed, the heat was so severe that it had nevertheless left a mark on his thigh through all those layers.

Clutching at his leg, Lan Qiren ordered his students to run to fetch him cold water and a doctor, and wondered what in the world had happened.

A letter, he decided. He would write Lao Nie a letter to ask.

[musicanddancingthroughlife]

Shklance - I Died

I feel like I basically dropped off the face of the planet, and for that I apologize. I have no excuses, except stress and mental health have been a huge problem lately and I’ve just been trying to find balance in my life. I can’t promise anything in the near future, with holidays coming up, and I have finals in like 3 weeks, and then my husband and I are moving at the end of the year, and then my little sister’s wedding is a few weeks after so I’m helping with that, and basically my life is just a mess right now, but I am still working on stuff, comments are always welcome and really do help to get me motivated, and hopefully I can get back into the groove of writing daily and posting weekly!

This story is probs gonna be a part 1 of 2. Hopefully. As is, I wanted it to be a stand alone, but I’ve been drafting it for almost a month now and I just want to throw it at you guys. So know I’m working on a part 2, where they talk about the whole thing and you see everyone’s reactions to what happened. This was actually a request someone made of me on my Ao3 account, but I’ve always loved reading stories dealing with everyone finding out about Lance dying. Just never thought I could do it justice haha. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

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

Lance knew that this was going to be an emotional day for all of them, but seriously, this was a little overkill. He knew he shouldn’t have gotten out of bed today.

Sure, it was the one-year anniversary of the day they all saved the universe, ended the war that had gone on for decades, blah blah blah, but getting up also meant that he was going to have to see everyone again.

Not that he wasn’t thrilled to see them! He and Hunk especially had been waiting for this day for months, and he couldn’t wait to see Pidge and Matt again, either. Last Lance had talked to them, they had been working on some seriously neat stuff. They were sure to be a lot of fun.

Hell, he had even been looking forward to seeing Allura again, even though things had never really been the same between them after Allura broke things off. Though, considering how hurt he was still feeling about their break up, it was probably a good thing she had canceled last minute. She’d said that she needed to focus on helping the universe heal. Lance had wanted to go with her, but she rejected him. He knew she was trying to be kind, telling him that he “deserved the time to rest” and that she “knew how much he’s been missing his home planet.” But really, all it had done was serve to remind him that he wasn’t actually necessary.

Not like Shiro and Keith were.

Allura hadn’t had any problems taking them with her, even though everyone else (even Keith) and agreed that if anyone deserved the down time, it was Shiro. Especially since Shiro had seemed a little weary when he accepted the invitation from Allura. Personally, Lance believed the only reason he agreed to go was because he knew that Keith wouldn’t be happy staying in one place anymore, and of course, there was no way they were going to allow themselves to be separated again, not after everything that had happened…

And Lance was even looking forward to seeing Keith and Shiro, since he had probably missed them the most. But he also knew that it was going to be hard. It was always hard seeing them together, but knowing that they’ve been doing so much good out in the universe, that they’ve gotten to see so much more of those worlds than he had… That was going to be hard.

Not to mention Lance still hadn’t managed to shake the crushes he’d had on them for so long now.

Or the fact that while everyone else was off changing the universe, traveling the galaxies, creating newer and better technology and inventions, Lance had done nothing? Okay, so farming wasn’t nothing. And no one could deny that Earth needed some TLC after the trauma of the war had nearly destroyed it. But as much as he enjoyed the simple hard work involved, that didn’t mean he didn’t understand it was stupid. It was pathetic. His friends were still fighting, in their own ways, and Lance felt as if he had simply given up. He couldn’t figure out what he wanted to spend his time doing, what felt most worthy of his time and attention, and so he had allowed himself to fall back on something easy.

And he wasn’t sure that he could face his friends while knowing the truth about himself, that he was a coward and had no mission or goals in life.

******

So, maybe Lance was a bit of a drama queen, because things had actually been going better than he expected. Everyone looked good, older and more experienced. Hunk had even grown out some facial hair, though it was a little sparse coming in. Lance knew that wouldn’t be the case for very long. The most shocking was Allura’s news about expecting a child (Keith and Shiro had passed it on in her absence). That hurt way more than Lance thought had a right to, but he tried hard to suppress that pain until he could process it in private. Possibly while crying over a tub of ice cream.

And as far as their actual dinner and celebration went, well… it really had been inevitable that their discussion would become heavier. And, as usual, Lance couldn’t keep his own mouth shut.

“We had some good times, though, right?” Lance laughed easily, trying to direct the conversation back to something lighter, something easier (at this point he’d had a couple decades to cement his masks, and he was good at pretending like nothing was wrong). “I mean, we might have been injured, and tortured—”

“Lance,” Hunk warned. He darted a quick, concerned look to Keith and Shiro, but thankfully neither of them looked too worried. Instead, they were staring at Lance with such sappy looks Hunk was irritated Lance wasn’t paying enough attention to notice on his own. A shared glance with Pidge told him that at least he wasn’t alone in his annoyance.

Lance continued thoughtlessly, “and I mean, maybe a couple of us died, but hey! In the end, it all turned out okay, and look at everyone, living their best lives!” (Lance was firmly ignoring the fact that he had spent most of his free time leading up to today pouting in bed. No one else knew, and therefore it didn’t count.)

Pidge opened her mouth, but Shiro spoke first. His brows were furrowed, and his nose had scrunched up a little. Lance wanted to melt at the cuteness of it. “Did someone else die? I thought I was the only one. Who else died?”

Lance’s jaw snapped shut. He couldn’t remember if it had even been brought up or not… It had to have, right? There’s no way his friends – his team – had just gone on for this long without knowing! He thought they were just ignoring it! Things had been crazy, and they’d never really gotten a chance to slow down and breathe, let alone discuss everything that had happened. And that was fine! That was to be expected! But now he was supposed to believe they just didn’t know??? Did that mean they didn’t care? That they didn’t notice all the nightmares that had become the norm after his death? The way he was jumpier for months after that battle? And if that were the case, then was it even worth bringing up now, so long after it had happened?

Lance’s face was burning, the warm flush traveling up to the tips of his ears, and possibly all the way down his neck. He could feel his eyes welling up, but he brushed it away, pretending his face palm in order to hide the movement. He glanced at his friends, unsurprised to find Hunk staring at him intently. Pidge was muttering to herself, obviously trying to determine what had happened on her own. Lance couldn’t even bear to drag his gaze to Keith or Shiro.

He tried to get out of answering Keith.

“Oops haha, must’ve miscounted, I meant to say that one of us had died,” Lance laughed again but unlike earlier, this one was decidedly uncomfortable. “Because. Obviously. One of us… did. Sorry, Shiro. But like, you died. That happened. And it was weird and we got a weird clone out of the deal, which was weird – did I say that already? – and like he wasn’t a great dude, so I’m glad you didn’t stay dead, you know? You’re much nicer than that clone was, he was kind of a jerk. No offense, Shiro. I mean, not that you’re the clone or anything, cause you’re Shiro, and that was Not-Shiro—”

Oh dear God why wouldn’t they shut him up? Lance was so busy panicking about what he was saying that he didn’t notice Shiro and Keith slowly standing, approaching him from each side. But Hunk and Pidge could almost see the concern rising off them.

“But he was mean, and he yelled at us a lot. Although I guess he really spent most of his time yelling at me, which really, makes sense, but again, not something you would’ve done, Shiro, so I’m glad you didn’t stay dead or anything, because Not-Shiro was a terrible replacement and—”

“Shiro yelled at you?” Keith had come close enough that he could lay a warm, gentle hand on Lance’s shoulder. Lance almost flinched at the contact, it had been so long since someone had touched him like that. Sure, he saw his family way more often than he had while they were fighting in space, but, come on. They were fighting in space. He never saw them back then! Anything was an improvement over that! Anyway, the point was, he knew he was lonely. He ignored it. It didn’t matter. His friends were happy, his family was safe.

“Weren’t you listening when I said it was Not-Shiro?” was all Lance could think to say. Keith rolled his eyes.

“Why did he yell at you?” Shiro asked. Lance shrugged.

“Lance had some good advice to share. Though honestly, I’m thinking that Lance’s plan just wouldn’t have suited the clone’s purposes and he wanted to make sure that Lance would stop pushing. So he yelled, knowing that would be enough to shut Lance down,” Hunk said. He shot Lance an apologetic look as he did so. Smart, because Lance was Not Happy with him. Now wasn’t the time to share petty hurts!

“Personally, I believe it was because if anyone was going to find out he wasn’t really Shiro, it would’ve been you,” Pidge shrugged. And really, et tu, Pidge? This wasn’t fair at all. Not to mention, now Lance could feel the now-familiar guilt from knowing he hadn’t been able to tell.

And that was what finally had Lance speaking up. “Oh come on, guys, that’s not even the worst any of us suffered out there! Lotor joined the team! I died! Shiro died! Keith left! We had bigger things to deal with!”

There was a brief silence following this, long enough for Lance to squeeze his eyes shut and briefly mutter “Fuck” to himself, and then—

“What do you mean, you died?”

Lance’s ability to make things worse every time he opens his mouth really should be considered a wonder of the world.

He opened his eyes hesitantly to find that everyone was watching him intently. Tears were welling in Hunk’s eyes, and Lance knew that if he paid too much attention to his friend, then he would break almost instantly. He avoided looking in that direction, lips pursed shut, determined to stay quiet now. But they were just as determined to make him talk.

“Lance, please, what happened?” and since when the hell does Pidge beg? That’s just wrong. But effective, because that wrongness made Lance jerk his head up, eyes accidentally locking with Shiro.

He looked so sad…

“It really wasn’t a huge deal, I was just saying that there was a lot happening. It was pretty much impossible for all of us to keep up with each other, what with Lotor and Allura, and Keith disappearing then coming back, and the search for Shiro… and Hunk, Pidge, you guys had a great team thing going on there. That was a lot of fun! And then remember Coran had us playing Monsters and Mana? Good times!”

“You played what?” Keith asked, confused. Then he shook his head. “Stop distracting us, Lance. Answer the questions.”

“Um. What questions?”

Keith’s face hardened, eyes doing that dangerous flinty thing that Lance had always loved to see when he got mad. But before he could say anything, Lance’s phone went off. He really did try to hide the relief on his face as he stood, but the way Shiro set his jaw made him think he was not successful.

Before Lance could answer the call, he felt his phone plucked from his fingers. He lunged for it, and Keith slipped it into his own back pocket, out of Lance’s reach. Even worse, his lunge for it brought their faces way too close. Lance jerked back, face flaming a bright red, but he felt himself crash back into Shiro’s firm, solid chest. He started to stammer apologies, but Keith’s hands settled on Lance’s shoulders, pulling him away, and then he and Shiro pushed him back down into his chair. As Shiro moved to kneel next to Lance’s chair, Keith held him there, grounding and sure. He leaned down, putting his mouth close to Lance’s ear and then murmured “Please. We need to know. We’re horrible friends for not already knowing, but we’re asking now and we need you to tell us. Let us help.” And Shiro gripped Lance’s arm, thumb smoothing against his darker skin, making it harder and harder for Lance to want to move.

Lance knew that they were blowing this out of proportion. But he still felt touched. He’d thought they were just ignoring his death because other things were happening at the same time, but maybe that wasn’t really the case. Maybe they truly hadn’t known. Maybe Allura had never said anything, and Lance, expecting Allura to say something, hadn’t said anything either, and so maybe they just didn’t know. Maybe sharing it now would be okay.

[keepyourpantsongohan]

And Many Happy Returns

A gift for @sloaners, one of the funniest, nicest and most talented people I know. You deserve nothing but good things, so here’s something made with the wish to make you smile. Please check out the collaborative pieces by @uintuva​ @tomicaleto​ @kiro-sveta and @ohayohimawari​​. | AO3 (Art/Writing) | Podfic |

                               ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It starts, as the best intentions often do, with a thirty-year-old man blowing out a birthday candle. 

“Happy birthday, Kakashi,” Tenzō tells him warmly. 

This warmth between them is both new and old. It aches of familiarity, and partnership, and all the things Kakashi has compartmentalized as something he ought to think about at a later date. But it is later, the moon shining down upon them in the wee hours of the night, his face bare to his companion. It’s a new world order, one where to Kakashi is the Sixth Hokage, and the village is bustling with migrants from all its neighbours, and where he lets someone look at him the way Tenzō is doing, like he has done something incredibly right. 

Kakashi wishes Obito were here to see this. He likes to think it would annoy him a little, even if this was exactly what he had suggested. 

“So how does it feel?” Tenzō asks, smiling. He sets down the cupcake, knowing Kakashi isn’t interested in sweets anyway. “Your first birthday as Hokage. This should be a day that the whole village celebrates.” 

“Maa, you know I don’t like parties,” Kakashi says, ducking his head as if a villager might pop up somewhere with a confetti canon. He reaches out and lets his fingers brush Tenzō’s. “This is fine with me.” 

Tenzō sighs, all fondness. “Well, you have to at least let me show you your birthday present.” 

Kakashi raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Did you bring something?” 

Tenzō shakes his head. “It’s more of something I get to show, actually.” 

It’s very tempting for Kakashi to make a joke at that, but his thought is soon cut off by a gleaming light in the sky, a bright blue-green speck making its way from far up above them, heading downward quite suddenly. For a moment, he thinks it could be a shooting star. Yet it doesn’t look much like a star to him, particularly not when he realizes whatever it is is hurtling not only towards the ground, but towards them. Kakashi’s mental calculations suggest that the meteor will land before they get a chance to move. 

It is all they can do to brace for impact. Kakashi feels his chakra gather in his palms and raises his hands so that he might be able to form a chidori. Beside him, Tenzō’s hands form a serpent seal and a wooden dome suddenly encloses them. A futile effort, given the speed and force of the object, but one Kakashi appreciates nonetheless. 

What surprises him, however, is when the meteor passes straight through the barrier, lands in their laps with a groan, and lets out a frustrated, “Ow!” 

Kakashi’s brain tries to catch up to the situation. They’re alive. They’re alive, and so is their meteor. Except it’s not a meteor, it’s a mint green man, who has appendages jutting out from his neck that dig into Kakashi’s thigh. Kakashi’s eyes rove over the man’s back, taking in the familiarity of what he is facing. 

“Obito?” asks Kakashi incredulously. 

“Obito?!” Tenzō repeats, his voice rising an octave. “Your Obito? Kakashi, isn’t he supposed to be dead?” 

Kakashi says, before he can think much about it, “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time.” 

In answer to their questions, Obito finally rolls over, confirming what Kakashi already knew. Obito’s face and body are the same as they were at the height of the war by all accounts. Scales, tomoe, and horns decorate his body, but what draws most of his attention are the brushstrokes painted across his stomach, reading, “Love, Kaa-san~”

A hand thrown over his eyes, Obito grumbles out, “Your mother says, ‘Happy birthday,’ Bakashi.”

—

Tenzō’s first order of business is to find out how this happened. Obito’s first order of business, as soon as he is able to stand on his own two feet, is to stare at Kakashi. 

“Wh— That’s— You’re handsome!” Obito accuses, outraged. He points his finger at Kakashi’s uncovered face. 

It’s unclear if Kakashi’s face is flushed from the impact of Obito’s words or the impact of his body flying at them from space. “Uh, thanks,” Kakashi replies weakly. 

“Can we go back to Kakashi’s mother?” Tenzō asks, waving a hand in front of them. “How many people are back from the dead?” 

“Just me, so far,” says Obito, a little defensively. “Kaguya’s immortal, so it’s not like she was dead in the first place.” 

“Kaguya,” Kakashi echoes flatly, eyes drifting up to the night sky. Tenzō’s gaze follows his, staring up at the moon, suddenly conscious of every moment he and Kakashi might have shared under the moon’s light. “My... mother?” 

Obito claps his hands together, distracting Tenzō and Kakashi from their respective existential crises. “Right! She said this would help explain.” 

Then, without preamble, Obito steps towards Kakashi, places his hands on either side of his face, and pulls him forward into a long, enthusiastic kiss. Kakashi’s hands drift upward, hovering over Obito’s sides. Though Tenzō can’t see both of Kakashi’s eyes, he does see one of them widen and shut, as a bright light pulses from Kakashi’s forehead, blowing his hair upward with an accompanying breeze. They draw apart, with half-smiles on their faces. 

“Oh,” Kakashi says, as if the situation makes any more sense. He looks at Tenzō. “Can you tell him too?” 

Obito nods. Tenzō tries not to jump when Obito leans towards him and their lips meet. As they do, Tenzō’s eyes are flooded with images, first of a woman with three eyes and long silver hair, and then of a man who looks just like Kakashi. The images flash quickly from the woman holding a small child, to passing through rips in the universe, to the remnants of Obito’s chakra being pulled into the moon. It is not unlike being awoken from a genjutsu.  

When the last memory passes before his eyes, Tenzō pulls away and says, “You know, all she said you had to do was touch us. Any reason you chose a kiss?” 

Obito’s mint green skin turns a bright shade of orange. “Hey— Well... Kakashi, help me out here.” 

“It was a pretty good kiss,” Kakashi offers in reply. “Eight out of ten, at least.” 

“Six and a half,” says Tenzō. “He bit my lip.” 

Obito grumbles under his breath, “Some people like that,” while Kakashi laughs.

—

“Remind me again why we’re staying at Yamato’s place and not yours, Bakashi?” 

Kakashi tosses a pillow at Obito, which, to Tenzō’s mild regret, he catches. “Because my place is the Hokage’s residence. Your chakra signature is too noticeable. Not to mention, the horns.” 

There’s far more intrigue in Kakashi’s last few words than Tenzō finds comforting. 

Obito and Tenzō lock eyes. “He looks at me judgementally,” Obito complains, pouting. 

“That’s because I’m judging you,” Tenzō informs him, just a little bit amused. “Consider me your rehabilitation sponsor.” 

Obito winces. “Doesn’t me dying count for something?” 

Tenzō regards Obito speculatively, weighing the consequences of an honest answer. Strangely enough, the man seems sincere. One of the orbs floating by Obito’s head brushes against Tenzō’s cheek, like a sulking cat seeking attention. “No,” says Tenzō, this time smiling outright.

Tenzō brings his attention back to Kakashi. He roots through one of his utility pouches, and shortly deposits what he finds into Kakashi’s palm. “This was supposed to be a gift for you,” Tenzō explains. “But now I suppose it makes more sense to give it to both of you.” 

“A key,” Kakashi observes, turning the wood over between his fingers. His mask, now back in place, doesn’t fully hide the flush creeping up. 

Tenzō nods, and with a few hand seals, a duplicate is in his hands. “I like my house the way it is,” he tells Obito, closing his fist over it. 

Without waiting for a reply, Tenzō crosses the room to head upstairs. Aside from Kakashi and Obito likely needing their own moment to speak, he feels the beginnings of a headache forming behind his eyes. 

As his feet reach the third step, he hears Obito say, “What am I supposed to do with that?” 

“You might try being helpful,” Tenzō calls out from the stairwell. 

—

Obito decides to take Yamato—Tenzō, as Kakashi keeps calling him—seriously. He spends the next morning in Tenzō’s kitchen helping out. The fridge doesn’t have everything he needs, but he saves time by going out into the garden and encouraging some of the fruits to grow with his mokuton. Food hasn’t been a necessity for Obito for a few years, so he takes care in arranging it, hoping that if it isn’t tasty, it’s at least well-presented. 

Obito is attempting to place seaweed on rice in an appreciable impression of a cat’s ears when Tenzō comes to stand beside him. 

“Is this for Kakashi?” 

“This one is for you,” Obito says, gesturing. “The other one is for Kakashi. His box has a rabbit.” 

Tenzō eyes crinkle at the corners. Obito is beginning to recognize the motion for what it is, a reflection of the way Kakashi smiles, when the mask is in place. “Thank you. I can bring it to him, if you want.” 

Obito mulls over the offer. “We can go together.” 

“I don’t know if that’s—“ 

Obito closes the box, and uses his free hand to wave off Tenzō’s concerns. “Don’t worry about it. It’s too early for him to have any visitors. Besides, I want to see if he really wears those robes like Old Man Third.” 

Tenzō shakes his head. “How are you planning to pass through the village unnoticed?“ 

Obito taps his temple, right beside his sharingan. “Kamui,” he says, both an explanation and a warning. 

“Obito—”

In one fluid motion, Obito tucks a bento box in the crook of his arm and grabs Tenzō’s elbow to yank him forward. Moments later, they stand in front of Kakashi, who looks surprised but pleased. 

“What brings you two here?” 

“Your lunch,” Obito declares, sliding the box across his desk. 

Kakashi rests one elbow on the desk, leaning his head on his palm. “What’s the occasion?” 

“I didn’t give you a gift,” Obito says, and then freezes. 

At once, both he and Kakashi realize what Obito has said. Kakashi is looking at him the same way he did the night before. His stricken look and doubt from the war is gone, replaced by something warmer and softer. Obito feels his face heat up. 

“There’s nothing you need to give me,” Kakashi says quietly. He hasn’t stopped looking at Obito. 

“I want to,” Obito tells him honestly. It feels freeing to say it. 

Kakashi finally breaks their gaze. “That’s good to hear,” is what he says, reaching for the bento box. Their fingers brush. 

Though Obito can feel Tenzō looking at them, he finds himself distracted in Kakashi’s face. The war feels only like yesterday to Obito, but he can see new lines on Kakashi’s face that hadn’t been there before. Lines beside his eyes to accompany his smile, a tan line peeking up from where his mask has not sat evenly on his face, and a line between his brows that reminds Obito he is standing in front of the Sixth Hokage. 

“Kakashi, I—”

What Obito is going to say, even he cannot predict, but he is spared from answering by the door to Kakashi’s office suddenly bursting open. 

“Sakura, Sai,” Kakashi greets the two teenagers casually, as if there is not a six-foot-tall formerly dead rogue ninja in his office. “What’s going on?” 

Sakura stares, disbelief written on her face. “I could ask the same question.” 

“It’s a long story,” Tenzō says, raising his hands in a warding gesture. 

The boy, who must be Sai, blinks, looking oddly unaffected. “Kakashi-sama, is this some kind of test?” 

“Would you believe it if I said yes?” Kakashi asks.

Sakura gives him a withering look. “Not even a little bit.”

Though Sakura is the one Obito expects to be gawking at him, given that she was present when he died, her ire is directed towards her teacher. It is Sai who looks at him with focused curiosity. Well, Obito supposes people don’t encounter a jinchuriki with his appearance every day. “If you have something to ask, just say it,” Obito tells him.

“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” Sai inquires seriously. He has a sketchpad in his hands, as if he were intending to take notes. 

“Why are you alive?” Sakura asks, reasonably. 

“It was Kakashi’s birthday yesterday,” he explains, before Tenzō grabs his arm and phases them both through the wooden floor. 

—

“Just stay put for now,” Tenzō demands, when they arrive in his back garden. “We’re lucky it was those two. If Sasuke or Naruto were in the village right now, there would’ve been much more of a scene.” 

Obito sits down on the engawa, feet sinking into the grass. “I was just helping out,” he says, shrugging. 

Tenzō takes a seat beside him. “Help less obviously.” 

“Kakashi wouldn’t take my apology,” Obito replies quietly. He brushes his fingers over a dandelion, letting it grow taller and wilder in his grasp. “But he would take my lunch. I know he still has thoughts about my past, but he won’t say anything about it. He just keeps looking at me like...” 

“...He’s happy that you’re alive?” Tenzō suggests. “He is. Believe me, he doesn’t look at just anyone like that.” 

“He looks at you like that.” 

Though his expression doesn’t change, Obito doesn’t need a sharingan to pick up the redness in Tenzō’s cheeks. “It’s complicated.” 

“Am I complicating it?” Obito asks sincerely. 

“A little,” Tenzō admits, to Obito’s surprise. The other man chuckles. “But I think you’d be complicating it whether you were alive or not. And I like to see him happy.” 

The words make Obito’s stomach tighten in a pleasant way. He takes a moment to take stock of his companion. It is easy enough to see what Kakashi sees in him, in his honest feelings, determination and loyalty. It makes Obito wonder if they can make whatever this is work after all. 

“I’m sorry for what happened during the war,” Obito tells him. “For what I did to you. I know what it’s like to be used. It doesn’t change anything, but—”

“It does,” Tenzō interjects calmly. “It helps.” 

Obito wants to say something more, but both of them turn their attention to the woods, feeling a familiar chakra presence rushing at them at full speed. 

“That’s not...” 

“It is,” Tenzō confirms. “Well, this was bound to happen eventually.” 

With that, a green blur rolls straight past Tenzō’s wards and jerks to a halt right at the edge of Tenzō’s property. “Yamato, my youthful friend!! Is it true that you and my rival are now living together in hot-blooded cohabitation?” 

“Does he really not notice me?” Obito mutters. Tenzō kicks him. 

“Not exactly, Gai,” Tenzō calls out. “He’s free to come and go as he pleases.” 

Gai, who looks every bit as energetic as ever, pushes his wheelchair closer to them. “Yosh!! Just like Kakashi!” Gai replies. “He wants to train harder before taking that next step.” 

When he is at arm’s length from the house, Gai turns his stare to Obito, narrowing his eyes with a concerned frown. 

“Hey Gai,” Obito says, waving. 

Gai lets out a thoughtful hum. “Yamato, your comrade seems... familiar. Have we met before?” 

“Seriously?!” Obito exclaims. 

This time, Tenzō elbows Obito. “Gai, I’m not sure if he looked like this that last time you saw him, but this is Obito. He's come back from... somewhere.” 

Gai’s smile fades. The seriousness in his expression looks out of place. “I see.” 

Obito takes a deep breath, and stands up. He bows his head a little, half in contrition and half because he thinks Gai would rather not look at him. “I’m sorry. Kakashi told me that Naruto’s friend, the Hyuga boy, was your student. I know that doesn’t change what I did, but you deserve to hear me say it. I wish I could bring him back—”

“Neji?” Gai interrupts him, his voice shaky. 

Obito offers one quick nod. “Yes, if I could’ve done things differently, I would—”

“Neji,” says Tenzō beside him, sounding shocked. “Obito, what did you do?”

It surprises Obito that Tenzō hasn’t already heard this story from Kakashi. He lifts his head to reply, when suddenly he catches sight of the source of their surprise. Standing beside Gai, unscathed, is the Hyuga boy who Obito had certainly impaled with mokuton. 

“Gai-sensei?” Neji asks, stepping unsteadily towards his teacher. “What happened?” 

“Neji!” Gai says again, pulling his student down into a tight hug. Gai’s eyes are full of tears, but his grin is blinding. “You’re alive!” 

“Not if you keep crushing me like this,” Neji wheezes, but he returns his teacher’s embrace, pressing his face to Gai’s shoulder. Some of the weight in the air finally lifts off, and for a moment, there is peace. 

And then the moment passes. Tenzō’s hand comes down firmly on Obito’s shoulder, turning them to face each other. “Obito,” he repeats soberly. “What did you do?” 

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Obito yelps. “All I said was that I wish I could take back what I’d done to the Hyuga kid—”

Tenzō eyes him doubtfully. “And that was all it took? Listen, I wish that I could bring Asuma back, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to show up at our next Mahjong game.” 

Obito wishes this level of suspicion was unwarranted, but he supposes his track record is less than stellar. “I don’t know what happened, alright? If you don’t believe me, ask the kid.” 

“Neji,” Tenzō asks, with far more patience in his voice than he had with Obito, “what’s the last thing you remember?” 

“The war,” Neji says, finally escaping Gai’s hug. He thinks for a moment, and then frowns. “And then some strange woman who claimed she knew Kakashi-sensei.” 

Obito and Tenzō look at each other. And somehow, from across the village in the Sarutobi District, the wind carries out three piercing screams. 

—

When Kakashi gets to Tenzō’s place that night, Obito is already fast asleep on the sofa, sitting up straight with his mouth wide open. One of the orbs that is always surrounding him bumps against Kakashi’s hand, not unlike Kakashi’s ninken do to greet him. Tugging the blanket over Obito’s shoulders, Kakashi smiles. “You’ve made a lot of paperwork for me, you know,” he tells his sleeping friend. Obito mumbles something in reply unconsciously, and Kakashi ruffles his hair, sighing. 

“You can’t give him all the blame,” Tenzō points out, emerging from the kitchen with his hands on his hips. “It’s a full moon this week. Strange things tend to happen.” 

Kakashi laughs. “You, defending Obito? It didn’t take him long to win you over.” 

Tenzō approaches him, settling a hand between Kakashi’s shoulder blades, a soothing warmth. “Only on a trial basis.” 

Kakashi closes his eyes. “You realize, as Hokage, I oversee all shinobi trials.” 

He feels Tenzō laugh at his back, the hand drifting to his side. “Maybe Obito was right, this system is corrupt.” 

“You can admit that you’re enjoying having him around, Tenzō,” Kakashi baits, tugging him towards the sofa. 

“I find his absurdity disarming,” Tenzō confesses. “It’s similar to how I feel around you sometimes, actually.” 

Kakashi pulls Tenzō down so that he can sandwich himself between the two mokuton users. “I’ll choose to take that as a compliment.”  

Tenzō leans on Kakashi, just as Kakashi leans on Obito. “You would.” 

Obito opens one eye. “You shouldn’t talk about me like I’m not here,” he mumbles, through a yawn.

“Go back to sleep,” Kakashi says, patting him on the cheek. 

For once, Obito listens. And so, tangled on the sofa is how they find themselves the next morning, when all three of them awake to a glowing purple egg gleaming innocently on Tenzō’s coffee table. 

[missjanjie]

Better Than Revenge | (2/?)

Title: Better Than Revenge Summary: Karma Inc.’s business structure is simple - clients hire them when they’ve been grievously wronged and they send one of their revenge mercenaries to right them. As painstaking as their efforts to remain ethical may be, that may be tested when former detective, Rosé, enlists the squad to pick up where she couldn’t on a much higher scale, with potentially greater consequences. Word Count: ~2.6k (this chapter) | ~5.3k (total) Relationship(s): Rosnali (Rosé/Denali Foxx), Jankie (Jackie Cox/Jan Sport), Halldoll (Nicky Doll/Jaida Essence Hall), Gimone (Gigi Goode/Symone), Gottlux (Gottmik/Olivia Lux) Rating: T

TW for this chapter: implied domestic abuse, attempted sexual coercion of a minor, deadnaming/transphobia

Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi

Chapter Summary: Rosé learns Nicky, Jan, and Mik's revenge origin stories

-

Milwaukee, WI - 2007

“I think my parents are starting to get suspicious,” Jaida quietly confessed, her gaze downcast to the floor while Nicky sat behind her, braiding her hair.

Nicky frowned, her brows furrowed as she tied off the braid she’d put Jaida’s hair in with a hair elastic. “What is making you say that?” she asked, moving so she was facing the other girl and taking her hands into her own.

She shrugged, fumbling with the hem of her shirt until Nicky’s grasp stilled them. “Just feels like they’re snooping around more, suddenly real interested in my life. And you know they’re always acting weird whenever we’re at my house together. Last time they made us keep the door open, remember?”

“I had assumed that was an American thing,” she confessed. She had only moved to the states a couple of months ago, at the start of her and Jaida’s junior year of high school, and she was still learning how to differentiate cultural differences from people behaving unusually to her specifically.

“You think everything you don’t understand is an American thing,” Jaida rolled her eyes with a fond smile, “though I guess you’re right most of the time,” she conceded.

Nicky shrugged it off, redirecting back to the topic at hand. “But you’re worried they’re going to find out about us and poop will hit the ceiling.”

“Shit will hit the fan,” she corrected, then sighed. “I mean, think about it — my mom’s a Sunday school teacher and my dad’s the son of a preacher, they take ‘traditional family values’ very seriously. And I don’t know how things are in France but there’s nothing traditional about this,” she explained, gesturing between the two of them.

She frowned, her brows knitting together. “But we are happy together, surely once we graduate, we can—”

“It’s not that simple, Nicky!” Jaida tossed her head back and groaned. “I love you, but in a place like this, sometimes love just ain’t enough.”

And maybe it was denial, or maybe it was blind optimism, but Nicky had refused to take that answer lying down. She fought for Jaida and fought even harder to keep the relationship away from her disapproving parents. For a while, it seemed to be working, they had their beautiful, fleeting moments that let them believe that everything would be okay.

It was the first day back after spring break and Nicky immediately noticed a change in her girlfriend. It was like the life and light had been drained from her like she was only present physically. And despite the warm weather, she was dressed for late fall. She rushed towards her, taking her hand. “Ma chérie, what’s wrong? You look so unwell.”

Jaida hesitated before pulling her hand away. “I can’t hang around you anymore,” she replied. “Though I’m not gonna see anyone around here for a while starting real soon,” she mumbled.

“What do you mean?”

“My parents found out, Nicky,” she choked out, forcing back a sob, “and they were mad, I ain’t never seen them so mad. They’re sending me to military school… well, they gave me a choice between that and conversion therapy… seemed like the better option.”

Nicky bit down on her quivering lip. “But you can find me when you are done, right?” She reached out to her again, but Jaida backed away to step out of her grasp.

“I can’t. Besides, you won’t want me anyway, I won’t be the same person.”

She tried to grab for her once more, desperate to keep her, looking at her with watery, pleading eyes. “Jaida, I can’t—”

“Please,” she sniffled, “don’t make this harder than it’s already gonna be.”

And perhaps Nicky should have let it go, accepted losing her first love, and moving on with her life. Sure, she would eventually. She would move around for school, for work, meeting many beautiful women along the way, but none of that happened until she made sure Jaida’s parents experienced at least a fraction of the hurt they had caused the both of them.

Her plan had been elaborate and convoluted and would require a heavy amount of stealth work and computer literacy to pull off. But as it turned out, her plan of convincing the two parents that the other was cheating on them was quite easy when her snooping unearthed the fact that both of them already were. All she needed to do was bring it to light.

Present Day

“When you think about it,” Nicky mused, “I did them a favor. There are worse ways they could’ve found out than having an envelope full of proof dropped off at your workplace. At least no one made a scene… as far as I know, at least.”

“Does Jaida know?” Rosé asked. “Now that you guys have reconnected, have you caught her up to speed? Because it seems like something you should tell her.”

Nicky winced and looked away. “It… has not come up yet,” she murmured. “There is no easy way to inform someone that you were the catalyst in their parent’s divorce. Unless you have a way, in which case, feel free to share with the class.”

She shrugged, putting her hands up in surrender. “I got nothing, but my point remains. It’s gonna bite you in the ass badly if you wait too long to say anything.” When Nicky shrugged it off, she decided to move on. “What about you, Bubbles?” she asked, looking towards Jan, “what sort of scathing revenge does someone as bouncy as you come up with?”

Jan pressed her lips into a fine line, holding back what was either a smile or a grimace. “Well, this also happened in high school, an all-girl Catholic school, of course…”

Old Bridge, NJ - 2009

Jan was nothing if not brave. Coming out in tenth grade, especially considering the environment she was in, was a choice that couldn’t be taken lightly. While she had the support of her family and closest friends, the school environment had been a different story.

“Janice, could you stay back for a moment?” her math teacher, a conventionally attractive man in his early thirties, prompted as the final bell rang.

With math being her weakest subject, Jan was instantly concerned and nodded. “Of course, sir. Is something wrong?” she asked as she walked over to his desk.

“I think something is very wrong,” he replied as he got up. “Janice, I am highly concerned with your mental wellbeing.” He stopped in front of her, cupping her face with both hands. “You’re such a bright, beautiful girl. It would be such a shame for you to throw that away because you’ve chosen to shun God and live in sin.”

Jan felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach and her throat tighten. This was inevitable, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear. She started shaking her head. “N-No, I’m… I’m not, I—”

“Shh…” he pressed his thumb to her lips to quiet her, then swiped it across her bottom lip. “Part of being a good Christian is overcoming temptation. And that’s what you want, isn’t it? Isn’t it what your parents want for you?” His hands move to her shoulders, squeezing them gently. “God gave you this body to lay with a man, you just need to be put in the right direction before it’s too late. I could help you, I could save you.”

Jan felt sick to her stomach. She hated every moment of the interaction; she hated the feeling of his hands on her, the way he was leering at her body, undressing her with his eyes. But at the same time, it was hard to lean into that hate, because he did pick on every insecurity she had in regards to her faith. But her sense of self won out and she was able to free herself of his grasp and run out of the room as fast as her legs would take her.

Any shame or guilt she might have felt was quickly replaced by anger and a desire to stop the man that tried to rob her of her innocence from harming anyone else. But she was still cautious, she knew there was a risk of retaliation if she spoke out alone, that was when her plan formed.

She created a fake Facebook account of a fifteen-year-old girl who was ‘planning on transferring to her school’. That was why she messaged the teacher, and after a few days of exchanging messages, ‘Samantha’ had agreed to meet up with him, the conversation in no uncertain terms making his intent clear.

Now, the obvious path from there would have been to go to the police, but that wasn’t good enough for Jan. Instead, she went to her godfather, who had promised he’d always help her ‘by any means necessary’. So, it was neither the police nor ‘Samantha’ that met the teacher at the park. Instead, it was two burly men who drove home a rough lesson that he was to turn himself in the next day, lest he face even worse consequences. He’d been given a flash drive with a copy of the whole exchange and was told he had exactly twenty-four hours and that the police would be expecting him.

Of course, those details weren’t in the subsequent news story of the teacher’s arrest. The conviction, however, was disappointing to Jan, as it was only two years and a thousand dollar fine, as well as losing his teaching license and having to register as an offender.

Present Day

“But rest assured, people are keeping an eye on him these days. You know, should he ever try and act up,” Jan explained with a shrug.

Rosé’s mouth was hanging open by the time Jan had finished her story. “So, you put a hit out on a pedo. I mean, shit, color me impressed,” she chuckled softly, then quickly followed up with, “I’m so sorry any of that happened to you, though. I’ve had people in my life try to weaponize religion against me after I came out. It’s never an easy pill to swallow.” She then looked at the group curiously. “Are you all…”

“Mik’s pan but yeah, the rest of us are gay,” Gigi confirmed with a nod. “At first, I thought that’d be the only thing we all have in common, but here we are now.”

“Chosen family is super important,” Mik agreed, “you never know who you can’t trust in your bloodline.”

Rosé quirked her brow. “That what happened to you?”

Scottsdale, AZ - 2015

Mik had been sitting across from his parents in dead silence for the past five minutes. There was no easy way to break it, let alone a correct one. On the coffee table in front of them were printed pictures of screenshots from his private Twitter account, where he presented himself as his true identity, but the precautions he took weren’t enough.

“Kady, sweetheart, I’m sure Uncle Joe brought this to our attention with your best interest at heart,” his mother said in as sweet of a voice as she could muster, which only served to sound fake to her son.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh please, don’t give me that. If it was ‘concern’ he would’ve told you privately. He sent it to the family group chat then told you that, and I quote, ‘your daughter thinks she’s a tranny’,” he struggled to keep his tone even, but he knew he needed to coddle his parents’ feelings if he wanted a chance of being taken seriously.

“I’m sure it just caught him by surprise,” his father offered.

Mik groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Even if he did, he wasn’t treating it like a fun piece of gossip, he hunted down my private account and outed me to humiliate me, and it would mean a lot if you guys had my back on this.”

This brought another wave of silence upon his parents. He couldn’t get a clear read on them, but they seemed stressed, confused, and most painfully, they seemed sad. His mother slowly picked her head back up. “Kady, I—”

“My name is Mik.”

“Listen, honey, you’re going to have to give us some time to adjust,” his dad tried to ease the tension, “you’re still our child, but this isn’t an easy thing to process, your mother especially is mourning the loss of her daughter.”

Mik felt his chest tighten in anger and hurt. “But I’m not—” he got up, shaking his head. “Right, fine,” he mumbled and escaped to the sanctuary of his bedroom. Left alone with his thoughts, the anger he had towards his parents dissipated and the rage shifted solely onto his uncle. After all, this was his fault. He was the one that robbed him of the opportunity to come out on his terms, and with the active intent to cause harm.

The anger didn’t go away over the following weeks. Instead, it built up, it festered inside of him as the summer after high school began. He had downloaded Grindr out of casual curiosity, and it was only a matter of minutes before a profile caught his eye. “No fucking way,” he grinned.

Of course, it was Joe, Mik realized how much of a cliche it was, but that didn’t change the fact that his bigoted uncle that tried to ruin his familial relationships was soliciting male escorts on a gay dating app. The opportunity for revenge essentially fell into his lap. He made a fake account and exchanged messages with him, just enough to get the evidence he needed.

The last step was simple, he dropped the screenshots into the same group text without any comment and removed himself from the group chat right after. He didn’t need to see the chaos unfold, Uncle Joe’s absence from the next family gathering was all he needed.

Present Day

“Just to be clear,” Mik added as he finished the story, “I’m against outing people, for the most part, obviously it should be something done on your terms. But shit, sometimes it’s gotta be an eye for an eye, you know?”

“Wait, I have a question,” Jan chimed in, “is he out now? Do y’all even talk to him anymore?”

He shook his head. “He moved to Alabama, I guess he wanted to go somewhere to double-down on the bigotry. No idea what happened after that. But, you know, good fucking riddance.”

“Amen to that,” Rosé agreed. “I don’t know how you guys have figured out that line of deciding what’s morally sound and what’s ethical enough. It seems to work, but it seems hard.”

“Jackie helped a lot with that,” Jan told her, her face lighting up and her smile broadening as she continued, “she has this pragmatic take on these things while still understanding that there’s so much ambiguity and morally gray areas. She’s honestly the smartest person I’ve ever met.”

Rosé nodded as she listened. “I’m glad you guys have someone like that on your team. How long have you two been dating?”

Jan turned bright red, worsened by the way the rest of the group laughed. “Oh, um, we’re not dating. She and I are… very close friends,” she explained.

“Ah,” the corners of her lips tugged into a smirk, “you’re just fucking, got it,” she observed, causing another eruption of laughter from the others, much to Jan’s chagrin. Once it died down, she redirected her attention to the half of the group that had yet to recall their stories. “Alright, who’s next?”

[theclockworkmonk]

Another Way

Read on AO3

Summary: With Aang desperate for a way to stop the Fire Lord without taking his life, Zuko suddenly remembers what Katara did to the commander of the Southern Raiders.

******

"Aang, we do understand," said Katara, as patiently as she could, "It's just—"

"—Just what, Katara? What!?"

"We're trying to help!" she was yelling now.

"Then one of you figure out a way for me to beat the Firelord without taking his life!" Aang spat back, his voice choking with emotion, "I'd love to hear it!"

He turned away and stormed off out of the courtyard back into the house.

"Aang, don't walk away from this!" Katara called after him. She made to follow him, but felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Let him go," said Zuko, "He needs time to sort it out by himself."

Every instinct in her told her to never let Aang deal with something on his own as long as she could help him, but she had to admit that Zuko might be right, and she could just make things worse.

"I guess there really isn't much more to say anyway," she muttered reluctantly and sat back down on the stone steps. "I certainly don't know how to talk Aang into being a killer."

"None of us do," said Sokka sternly, "and none of us will. The only thing that will convince Aang is time. As we get closer to the comet, he'll have to eventually face the fact that there's no way out of this."

"I just don't know what this will do to him," Katara said miserably, hugging her knees to her chest, "I've never seen him this helpless, even when we lost Appa. He just feels so trapped, he wants another way and I feel trapped since I can't give him one."

Zuko's usual moody frown was replaced with his eyes widening in realization. He snapped his fingers and pointed at Katara.

"Hey! Maybe that's it!" he said, excited now, "We can't give him another way, but maybe you can, Katara."

"What do you mean?" asked Katara, "I certainly don't know how to remove the threat of the most powerful firebender in the world, supercharged by a comet, while also not killing him."

"What about that technique you used against the commander of the Southern Raiders?" Zuko asked.

Fear struck Katara like a hammer and her breath caught in her chest. In a panic, she looked around to discover that the others had indeed heard the worthless idiot, turning toward her with curiosity.

"What technique?" asked Suki.

"Nothing!" Katara said forcefully, but Zuko was looking away from her so he couldn't see the deadly glare she was sending him.

"Come on, Katara, like you said, we're desperate for ideas, and so is Aang," Suki pressed, "It certainly won't hurt."

"I suppose a waterbending technique would be ideal to defeat the Fire Lord," mused Sokka thoughtfully.

"Yeah, they say to 'fight fire with fire,' but that always sounded stupid to me," said Toph, picking at her toes, "Makes much more sense to fight fire with water, right?"

"She moved her hands, and the commander's entire body just went limp," said Zuko, "and then it was like she could control his arms and legs."

Katara winced as Suki frowned in confusion, Toph gaped in shock, and Sokka scowled at her in fury.

"YOU BLOODBENDED SOMEONE!?" her brother shouted at her, springing to his feet, "How could you possibly do that again! Have you been doing it this whole time?"

"No, I swear!" said Katara defensively, trying to shrink into the floor, "It was just that one time, I thought he was the one who killed mom."

"I'm sorry, but we seem to keep forgetting that I haven't always been here," said Suki, raising her hand, "What exactly is bloodbending?"

"It's when a waterbender bends the blood in someone's body," Sokka told his girlfriend, "It's turning someone's own body against them and exerting complete control over them." He turned back to stare daggers at Katara. "It's a disgusting perversion of waterbending that only a cruel coward would use!"

"Before the eclipse, we came across this crazy old lady," explained Toph, "She was a waterbender living in hiding in the Fire Nation. She'd abduct people at night, take them prisoner, and control them like puppets."

"Yeah, and she took control of me and tried to make me kill Aang!" shouted Sokka, throwing his hands in the air, "I honestly can't believe this!"

Katara just hung her head and didn't say anything.

Zuko was frowning and looking back and forth between the two of them.

"I'm….sorry, but am I the only one who doesn't get what the big deal is? You've got a way to instantly, non-fatally incapacitate someone. I can think of a hundred scenarios where that would be useful, like, oh I don't know, the one that we're in right now! Sure, it can do terrible things in the wrong hands, but that's true of all bending. Heck, that's true of every sword that's ever been made."

"Not to mention what this could mean for healing," said Suki, "If you can control the blood in someone's body, there's all kinds of injuries and illnesses you could treat with that."

"I'll agree it's a pretty dirty tactic," said Toph, shrugging, "but we don't really have the luxury of fighting 'honorably,' on account of, ya know, the whole world about to burn. I'm pretty sure Aang will feel better after tying the Firelord into a knot than killing him."

Sokka was scowling deeply at all of them. "None of you understand. You weren't there, you didn't have it used on you. You're a prisoner in your own body. Every inch of you is crawling, like there's something inside you, like you're about to explode or get turned inside out." His voice began to break, and he stared at his trembling hand as he slowly opened and closed it.

"When someone does this to you, you stop being a person. You're just….a thing. Just some meat. It's inherently evil, it's nothing like any other kind of bending or weapon. I don't expect any of you to understand.

"But you do!" he rounded on Katara again, "You had that done to you but still did it!"

"Will you back off already!?" Katara finally spat back at him, jumping to her feet to get on his level, "I already said it was one time! I'm never going to do it again!"

"I'm sure the people of the Earth Kingdom will take comfort in the wake of their nation being burned that you and Aang didn't have to corrupt your beliefs," said Zuko dryly, "I kind of expected something like this from him about taking a life, I never would have thought we'd have to worry about this squeamishness from you, about something that doesn't kill! If you can't do it yourself, at least teach Aang how to do it."

"No," said Katara resolutely, crossing her arms and turning away from them, "If I feel sick at the idea of bloodbending again, Aang will be even more against it. He's a better person than me, after all."

Zuko was taken aback by that last part, exchanging an awkward glance with Suki and Sokka, before continuing uneasily. "Um...isn't that Aang's decision? He's being torn in two and I think he'll take any way out of taking a life."

"Yeah!" said Toph, "The Air Nomads strictly considered all life sacred, but I bet they didn't have any rules regarding a form of bending of a different element that didn't exist yet. Loophole!" she cried cheerfully.

"I'm going to go at least suggest it to him, he can make up his own mind," said Zuko. He went to follow Aang into the house.

"NO!" Katara cried, spinning back around. Her unease had given way to outright panic and fear. "No Zuko, please don't say anything to him! The rest of you too, he can never know what I did!"

The rest of them just sat for a moment, surprised by the desperate tone in her voice.

Sokka shuffled his feet and hung his head. "Look Katara….I'm sorry I blew up at you. I don't think you're some heartless witch like Hama or that you're gonna start bloodbending left and right. You know how patient and zen Aang is, I'm sure he wouldn't react the same way."

"Yes, Sokka, I know he wouldn't yell at me," said Katara, "don't patronize me. It's still the worst thing I've ever done, and would rather no one else find out about it if I can help it. If Aang found out what I did, there'd be no going back from that. It would….he'd never look at me the same way again." Her voice caught in her throat and she turned away from them so they couldn't see the tears starting to sting in her eyes.

Aang had been so relieved when he found out that she had decided to spare the man who had killed her mother. He had smiled at her with such pride and affection that it made her heart ache. But also queasy with guilt, because he didn't know just how close she had come, and what she had done on her way there. If he knew just how dark she allowed her thoughts to get sometimes, she was certain that he wouldn't have said those things during the play.

It was part of why she couldn't bring herself to explore her feelings for him. He had such an inflated opinion of her that she felt she didn't deserve. Every time he gave her that look of complete adoration, she felt like she was lying to him.

Sokka carefully walked up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Katara, you know that Aang isn't immune to losing control himself. You saw how crazy he got with the people who took Appa. If he found out, he'd understand. It wouldn't…" he took a deep breath and steeled himself "...it wouldn't change how he feels about you."

Katara's breath hitched and she jerked away from him, spinning to face them all. She could feel her face burning.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" she hissed at him, staring daggers into his eyes.

There was a brief pause, then all four of her friends (including Zuko) burst into raucous laughter. She blushed even harder and wished she was an earthbender, so she could sink into the ground.

"Seriously?" asked Zuko, raising his remaining eyebrow, "We're still doing this?"

"What do you mean, 'seriously?' You just got here," moaned Sokka, "I've been dealing with this since we cracked open that stupid iceberg."

"Hey, at least you don't have to feel their hearts going all a-flutter every time they look at each other," Toph fake-swooned, clutching her chest dramatically.

"Okay, I'm going to be completely honest," said Suki, still laughing, "I actually thought you two were already a thing for weeks after we got back from the Boiling Rock. That's just the energy you guys are giving off." That made the other three laugh even harder.

"Shut up!" yelled Katara. Eventually, the laughter died down when they saw how serious she was.

"We promise not to tell Aang," said Zuko, "You can tell him if and when you're ready."

"But it's probably a good idea to clear the air about it before your wedding day," said Toph.

"Thank you," said Katara, ignoring Toph, "it was a valid idea, Zuko, but in any case, even the woman who invented bloodbending was only able to do it on the full moon. I doubt me or Aang would be able to do it on the day of the comet."

Zuko's smile vanished and he looked at her blankly. "Really? Why didn't you just say that at the start? We could have avoided half this conversation."

"Yeah, I know," she said Katara, angry at herself for getting upset and not thinking.

"It's just as well," sighed Zuko as he sat back down on the steps to the house. "Even if you could disable him, that's just a temporary solution. He's one of the two most powerful firebenders in the world, we'd never be able to contain him forever. And half the Fire Nation worships him, almost literally. As long as the possibility exists for him to reclaim the throne in some glorious Agni Kai, the country will never be free. There's no other way, he has to die."

The laughter from just a few moments ago was long gone, as everyone was reminded of the extremely un-Aang thing that Aang had to do. There was nothing more to be said, everything came down to him.

"If there's another way, he's going to be the one to find it, not us" Katara said quietly, "Aang is the best of us, he'll never stop trying, right until the last moment. But if he doesn't find it, he'll do what's necessary to protect the world."

"To protect you, more like," muttered Sokka under his breath.

Katara rolled her eyes. "Oh, would all of you grow up?" and she stormed into the house, leaving her friends snickering behind her.

******

In 2008, we all watched Aang yell at his friends that he needed a way to defeat Ozai without killing him, and I shouted, out loud in my living room, "just bloodbend him!"

This story is a result of that knocking around in my head for 12 years.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Drifters ch.8 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Edge has got a handle on this parenting stuff. Seriously. He does. It's alllll under control.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Violence, Rescued Child, Medical Experimentation, Babybones

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

In Underfell, Edge always showered quickly and efficiently. It was the surest way to avoid the bursts of cold that came from their capricious hot water heater, and there was no reason to assume things would be different in Underswap. Efficiency was the key to many things in his life and kept the juggling act that was his life well balanced between his guard duties, his training with Undyne, and simply dealing with his brother.

He’d expected to be able to transfer those lessons to caring for this child; practical efficiency, that would be the way. What he hadn’t considered was how such a tiny little creature could thwart his plans so easily, nor had he anticipated how much effort was involved in all this, even when it came to something so simple as a bath.

Once the tub was full of water and frothy bubbles, and the baby was down to her bare bones, Edge was forced to consider the best method of bathing her. She wasn’t able to sit up on her own, but she could if braced and managed to more or less hold her head upright, surely a minor magic of its own considering the ungainly size of her skull.

The easiest approach seemed to be holding her up with one hand and bathing her with the other. It was a reasonable strategy. He should be able to finish quickly with none of the aforementioned ‘greased watermelon’ issue coming into play.

What he didn’t take into account was that she was less of a simple slippery melon and more of a sentient squirming slippery melon, with legs and arms and an unshakeable will of her own.

The moment he lowered her into the bath, the child began to thrash, making a fair attempt to bash the bubbles with both tiny fists and feet. She laughed gleefully as the water splattered around them, right up until the wave returned to splash her directly in the face.

The baby sputtered and coughed, floundering as she gasped for breath while Edge struggled to keep her head above the water. Her chin trembling as she turned her dripping face to him, sockets wide and wounded as if seeking reassurance for this terrible betrayal.

Edge couldn’t hold back a low chuckle, “I’m sorry, child, but that’s what happens when you don’t consider the consequences of your attack.”

His amusement seemed to spur her own. Her upset forgotten, she chortled happily and renewed her attack on the water, and this time the wave encompassed them both. In the end, there was very little washing on his part. The best he could manage was keeping her from slipping underwater as she splashed and played. It wasn’t the most efficient method, but he had to admit, she was very clean when he finally lifted her from the tub despite her loud protests.

Then came drying which turned into a game of its own when he learned that if he held up the towel so she couldn’t see him, then quickly dropped it, she would squeal happily, hands and legs flailing with her excitement. That continued long after she was dry, until she began sucking on her fingers again, a sign he’d learned to read as meaning that food needed to be on its way soon or else the screams would quickly begin.

Her pajamas had escaped her watery wrath, at least, and that gave him another new experience to manage. She seemed to have very little control over her own limbs, they flailed and waved seemingly of their own accord and combatting that to gently navigate them through narrow sleeves and pantlegs proved a heroic task all its own.

By the time he was done, she was clean and dry, sitting pertly in her light blue pajamas with a snowflake motif, and he was a sweaty, damp mess in Stretch’s ratty old bathrobe. How did parents manage this, he wondered, how had his brother managed this? His esteem for everything his brother and Stretch must have endured to care for him and Blue had raised tenfold in the past 24 hours, with no end point in sight.

The finger sucking was increasing in urgency and Edge sighed inwardly, already resigned to all his hard work being rendered useless within the hour. He lifted her up, cautiously balancing her on his hip as he’d seen Stretch do, and found it not only comfortable but also a way to free one hand.

“Come along, little one,” Edge told her, smoothing that hand down the curve of her skull. “Breakfast is downstairs.”

She babbled softly, little nonsense sounds of agreement that food was an excellent choice, and he smiled helplessly.

“You need a name,” he told her as she cooed up at him. “But perhaps I need to know you better before choosing one.”

Down in the living room, Stretch and Red were sitting on the sofa together, looking for all the world like they hadn’t been talking about him while he was gone. One of those colorful bowls was in the table, half-full of some sort of pale mush.

“hey, you two,” Stretch said. One side of his mouth curved in a half-smile, his gaze more on Edge’s bedraggled form than the baby. “made it out alive, huh?”

“She made a fair attempt at drowning me,” Edge admitted.

“ya look like she won,” Red said, unimpressed, and of course he wouldn’t know Edge had already heard his pride this morning. That memory was already tucked away safely in his soul.

“there are no winners at bath time, only survivors.” Stretch reached for the child. “here, let me handle second breakfast while you get changed.”

Edge stepped back enough to put both of them out of reach. “I can do it,” he said firmly.

“sure you can, but i can also help, you know.” It was lightly said, in the same tone as yesterday when Stretch pointed out he didn’t need to slap away helping hands. It left Edge torn with indecision. On one side of the coin, he needed to become accustomed to handling the child on his own. Once he found a job and they found a place to live, he wouldn’t be able to depend on Stretch for simple childcare. But on the other, he was here now, damp, undressed, and thoroughly ready for breakfast and a shower of his own.

He looked at Stretch, at the dark circles under his sockets, the mismatched clothes he’d likely scrounged from the unfolded clothes pile. He’d already done so much for them, more than anyone could reasonably expect, far more than a fuckbuddy, as he’d called it, should. Edge couldn’t keep asking for more.

“She’s already wreaked her havoc on me,” Edge managed to gesture at his damp bathrobe without the use of his hands, “I may as well take the full brunt of the damage she can cause before I clean up.”

It was the right thing to say. Stretch laughed and shook his head. “heh, fair enough.” He gave the bowl a nudge in Edge’s direction. “have at it.”

Edge settled the baby into her little pillow fort before picking up the bowl. The contents were gooey and a brownish-beige, unrecognizable. He sniffed it warily, “What is it?”

“banana.”

Edge scooped up a spoonful and let it fall back into the bowl with a wet plop. His experience with bananas was limited to pictures he’d seen in books. That was the sort of fruit only found in the King’s orchard, not in the outskirts of the Ruins where Snowdin lay.

“It doesn’t look like any of the pictures I’ve seen,” Edge said doubtfully. For one, he was very sure that bananas were supposed to be yellow, not the shade of the old personal computers that littered the dump.

“you probably saw them pre-baby smash,” Stretch said, “g’wan, she’s waiting.”

She was in fact smacking her mouth like a baby bird, gurgling hopefully. Well, he’d trusted Stretch so far, now was not the time for doubts. He scooped up some of the gunk and poked the spoon between her teeth. Then he had to grapple it free when she bit down, grunting and wriggling enthusiastically as she messily swallowed down her mouthful.

Behind him came smothered laughter from his unwanted audience.

“yeah, gonna have to be quicker than that,” Stretch chuckled.

Red hooted a laugh of his own. “be glad she ain’t got sharp teeth. almost lost a finger coupla times with you.”

Edge scowled at the baby, who met his glare with pure innocence that no longer fooled him. He was a captain in the royal guard, a days-old child was not going to outmatch him.

This time when he poked the spoon into her mouth to deposit the banana, he quickly pulled it back out before her teeth could close around it.

“Aha!” Edge said triumphantly. “You see? A little cooperation and we’ll get this done, child.”

“Brrrrp,” the baby replied, spewing smashed banana directly into Edge’s face. He sputtered, falling back, but it was too late. He could never again say that he didn’t know what slightly used banana tasted like, not unpleasant but definitely not something he’d choose on his own.

A sort of strangled sound came from behind him and he swung around to find Stretch nearly neon in the face, his gaze firmly on the ceiling and his teeth locked together. He refused to meet Edge’s glare, only studied the ceiling as if the answers of the universe might appear there, if only he looked hard enough.

His brother, on the other hand, was never shy about enjoying the pain of others. Red only grinned at him, asking with disturbing sweetness, “problems, pap?”

“Not at all,” Edge said stiffly.

“uh huh. paybacks a bitch, bro.”

Before he could scold Red for his language— honestly, her first word was going to be some sort of swearing, he just knew it— the front door opened, and Blue was talking before he even made it through the entryway.

“Papy, I’m home,” he called, “which you shouldn’t be because you’re supposed to be at your sentry station, what if a Human came through—"

Blue stopped, words trailed off as he stood in the doorway, a swirl of snowy air blowing in around him as he took in Edge, dressed only in Stretch’s bathrobe and a newly acquired layer of banana, his brother and Red taking up the sofa, and of course, their smallest and newest guest who paid him no mind, too busy preparing to decorate Edge with second banana-y coating.

“Is that a baby?” Blue said at last.

Edge groaned inwardly. Here we go again.

tbc

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: The Rebellion of Adrien Agreste ch. 1-2

Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Kagami Tsurugi, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Luka Couffaine, Lila Rossi/karma, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth/aneurism, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Kagami Tsurugi, Plagg & Tikki

Characters: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Lila Rossi, Jagged Stone, Plagg, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine, Penny Rolling, Anarka Couffaine, Rose Lavillant, Juleka Couffaine, Kagami Tsurugi, Alya Césaire, Chloé Bourgeois, Wayhem, Nadja Chamack, Nathalie Sancoeur, Sabine Cheng, Tom Dupain, Tikki, Fang, Principal Damocles, Caline Bustier, Ms. Mendeleiev, original minor character, Alec Cataldi, Lila Rossi's Mother, Sabrina Raincomprix, Roger Raincomprix, Mylène Haprèle, Le Gorille | Adrien Agreste's Bodyguard, Nino Lahiffe, Nooroo

Tags: Lila Rossi salt, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Teenage Rebellion, Swearing, Bad Parent Gabriel Agreste, Crack Treated Seriously, Lila Rossi's Lies Are Exposed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Luka Couffaine Needs a Hug, Paparazzi, Parentification, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Needs a Hug, Gabriel Agreste Needs an Aneurism, Uncle Jagged Stone, we're all queer here, the spirit of punk is sometimes just being allowed to be yourself, Kagami Finds Her Groove, punk rock fashion, Savage Kagami, Marinette protection squad, Good Parent Sabine Cheng, Good Parent Tom Dupain, Protective Kagami Tsurugi, Protective Luka Couffaine, Bisexual Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Pansexual Luka Couffaine, Sharing a Bed, Pet Names, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Instagram, Bullying, Social Media, Anxiety, Makeover, Hugs, will cure your acne, Face Punching, Bad Ass Juleka Couffaine, Rumors, Protective Juleka Couffaine, Protective Adrien Agreste, Lawyers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Holding Hands, accountability, mental health, Jagged Stone's well-paid pet shark, How to Make the Evening News, Sexy eyeliner for days, one fish two fish Lila is a screwed fish, How to have fun and piss Gabriel off, Fuckery, sweet litigious karma, Alya sugar, lawyer shark doo doo doo doo doo doo, Schadenfreude, Bad Ass Alya Césaire, Gaslighting, abuse denormalization, Jagged likes his lawyers like he likes his pets: toothy af, Blood in the Water, Everything you didn’t know you wanted and some things you did, Gabriel Agreste is shark bait, Denial, Consequences, Principal Damocles salt, caline bustier salt, the impotence of Gabriel Agreste, snarky Nooroo, lies and the lying liars who tell them, Lila's brain is a narcissistic hellscape, Lila’s mind is built like an Escher piece, Alec Cataldi salt, Adrien Sugar, wholesome salt, Fu Salt, Kwami Shenanigans, Nooroo is a little shit

Summary: Gabriel decides that Adrien entering a romantic relationship is a good move for the brand. He chooses Lila Rossi as the other half. Adrien nopes tf out.

Notes: I was gonna have it be a slow acceleration, but Adrien was all “Go big or go home.” Also trying to find motivation to write more of this fic.

AO3 link

----------

“No,” Adrien growled. “Absolutely not!”

Lila made a show of crying, not that anyone in the room believed her tears were real.

Gabriel frowned at him from his desk. “This will be good for the brand—”

“Fuck the brand!”

“Adrien! This is unbecoming. You will be seen to be dating Ms. Rossi. That is final.”

Adrien’s fists were so tight he was sure he had crescents eating into his palms. “Like hell it is! I will not date that—” he gestured at Lila “—lying cow. Not after how she’s hurt my friends.”

Said girl gasped, outraged, and Adrien was glad to see she actually looked truly upset.

His father stood, but kept his voice emotionless, calm, self-assured that he would capitulate. “Cease this ridiculous teenage rebellion.”

He saw red, but oddly it calmed him. “Father, you have not seen teenage rebellion,” he said, his voice almost terrifyingly calm. “But I would be happy to teach you what it looks like if you try to force me to do this.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses. Adrien could see him considering that, but then discarding it. “It will be in the papers tomorrow. If you misbehave, you’ll no longer be permitted to go to school.”

Adrien snorted. He knew more ways to escape this house than his father could possibly anticipate—some he’d made himself, even. “Good luck, Gabe. You’re going to need it.”

He spun on his heel before his father could respond and slammed the door behind him. With the enhanced strength he had as the Black Cat Miraculous chosen, the wood cracked audibly.

As he made his way back to his room, he realized the opportunity his father had just placed in his lap. As the face of the brand, Adrien had more power than Gabriel seemed to realize. It was time to stretch those muscles.

He had planning to do.

---------

His father had spectacularly good timing for pulling this kind of stunt—for Adrien, anyway. He’d heard from a couple of friends of his that a certain rock star was in town. And if anyone was up for promoting teenage rebellion, Adrien had no doubt it would be Jagged Stone.

It was child’s play to sneak out of the house. He didn’t even have to transform to do it. From there it was just making his way to the Grand Paris Hotel. The staff assumed he was there to see Chloé, so getting in was no problem. Jagged Stone always rented the same suite, so that wasn’t an issue, either.

The hard part, he knew, would come after he knocked on the door.

Jagged opened the door, and then peered at him suspiciously.

“Um, M. Stone, I don’t know if you remember me but—”

The rock star suddenly broke into a wide grin. “Oh, you’re Marinette’s model friend, right?”

Adrien blinked. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard. His rock idol knew him?

Sadly, he had no time to fanboy.

“Yes, Adrien. I was wondering if I could trouble you for some help?”

And so that was how Adrien Agreste wound up sitting in Jagged Stone’s suite, petting Fang, and telling him about the woe that was the obsession his father had with Lila Rossi, Liar Extraordinaire.

“She said I had a what?”

“A kitten. And she got Marinette expelled and is just being really awful to her.”

Jagged opened a cell phone. “Penny, I need you. Yes, I know I sent you for macrons, but this is really important. Bring my niece with.”

When he was finished, he turned to Adrien again. “We’ll get that taken care of.”

“That’s not all, M. Stone.”

He pressed forward, telling his idol of the relationship he was being forced into and his promise to show Gabriel Agreste just what he could do if he really rebelled.

When he was done, Jagged’s face was gleeful in an almost terrifying way.

“Oh, please tell me I get to help with this?” At Adrien’s nod the man whooped in excitement. “Brilliant. Once my niece gets here, we’ll plan properly. She’s a planner, that one. Smart as a whip.”

Adrien blinked. “Your niece?”

“Marinette, of course! Honorary niece.”

His jaw dropped. Marinette had always had the upper hand on Lila, could call in Jagged at any moment to destroy her, and had held back. He never should’ve stopped her.

“My father can’t know she helped. He’s got so much power in the fashion industry, and I don’t want to hurt her career.”

Jagged waved away his concerns. “Mate, listen. From what I understand you’re the face of that company. You have the power, not him. Get you in some Marinette originals, and he can’t undo the fame that’ll bring her.”

Adrien hadn’t considered that. “I just don’t want her hurt.”

He heard the door open, and then a soft, “Adrien?”

It meant he had to explain the situation all over again, letting Jagged Stone assure her that he was going to pop the liar’s kitten whopper as soon as possible.

“I can stop by your school with Fang, yeah? They can’t keep me from saying hi to my favorite niece.”

Marinette bit her lip. “That would be helpful, but for Adrien…”

Adrien smiled. “I want you to design me a new look. Something we can do here and now—maybe with the discrete help of some of the hotel staff, since they have that nice spa and such. Hair dye, new clothes. Maybe some fake piercings. Oooh, a fake tattoo?”

Jagged glanced at Penny, who looked uncertain about this. “Don’t be a party pooper, Penny.”

“His father might sue you,” she pointed out.

“Like I care. I have money.” He grinned. “And for what? Giving his kid a makeover?”

“French law—”

“Nope, don’t care. It’s happening. Get his sizes and go to my favorite stores. Adrien, what color scheme?”

Adrien blinked. He hadn’t thought that far. He glanced at Marinette. “Um, do you think Chat Noir would mind if I used his colors? I think of him when I think teenage rebellion.”

That was more because being Chat Noir had up to this point been his way of rebelling, but she didn’t need to know that.

To his surprise, Marinette grinned, the smile wide enough to match Jagged’s. “Oh, I like that idea. Chains and spikes? Fake lip ring and septum?”

“Absolutely!”

Jagged made a shooing motion at Penny, who rolled her eyes and headed toward the door, before joining in. “Now how about this idea: black and neon green hair, done to look like a skunk’s stripes!”

Adrien was surprised to find himself laughing honestly at the idea. He’d been so angry less than an hour ago, but this was truly fun. “This makes me think of those J-Rock bands, how they used to dress up.”

Jagged’s phone let out a guitar riff and he glanced at it. “Oh, right. Penny needs your measurements. Shoe size, too. Definitely some stomping boots, I think.”

He handed over his unlocked phone for Adrien to text.

“I’ll call the salon, yeah?”

Adrien nodded, texting the information, then froze. “Wait, Chloé might tell my father.”

That got a laugh. “Nah. They’re discrete. They bring everything up here for me—I won’t be around people if I’m getting my hair dyed.”

While Jagged made the call, Adrien finished the text. When he looked up, Marinette was watching him. She turned pink when she realized he’d caught her.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked after a moment.

He sighed, slumping back on the sofa and resting his hand on Fang’s head again. “No, but I don’t have any better ones. That stupid news claiming I’m with Lila’s going to hit tomorrow. And I’m so done with this, with him treating me like I’m property.”

Marinette looked worried, and he tried to muster up a smile. From her expression, he didn’t manage it.

“Maybe…” she started, then trailed off.

“Maybe?”

She didn’t look at him. “Maybe you should look into laws involving child labor and parental responsibility. You… you might be able to get emancipated.”

That startled him—something he hadn’t even thought of before. He hadn’t even been aware it was an option.

When Marinette did look at him, her eyes were stormy. “He’s so… cruel to you. Maybe there’s legal recourse.”

“I’ll think about it,” he murmured. That seemed like such a drastic measure. “I don’t know if I want to go that far.”

She nodded, and he excused himself to go to the bathroom.

Plagg shot out of his pocket the moment the door was closed. “I’m so proud of you kid. This is gonna be great!”

“Thanks, Plagg.”

The kwami grabbed the proffered wedge of camembert.

“And think about what Pigtails said. Your dad’s a real piece of work, and you deserve better.”

“I will.”

Adrien could feel the idea turning over in his mind, as though gathering strength. When he left the bathroom, Jagged met him excitedly.

“I have just the idea! A temporary face tattoo!”

[might-be-a-zygon]

Flat 40b

Chapter Five

What Road to Take?

AO3 link in the reblogs

Thea wasn’t really sure how she’d wound up spending so long chatting to that odd woman in the odder room. It was all a little concerning, honestly- just a woman sitting alone in a little room like that, with such a secure lock. She’d been half worried that someone had trapped her there, but when Thea had held the door open for her to follow, she’d just said she was waiting for a friend to visit and asked Thea to shut it for her.

She hadn’t expected the sky to have darkened when she left the room, but she wasn’t particularly worried. It wasn’t a far walk to the flat, after all, and she hadn’t had much else to do that day.

Still, her casual dismissal of how late it’d gotten did turn to some degree of guilt when she spotted Yaz, still sitting up in the kitchen, looking at her with a degree of relief.

“Where have you been?” She asked, looking Thea up and down as though expecting to see some injury. “Bill said you went for a walk after the lecture and they you never came back- I was worried.”

Thea had the good grace to look guilty, at least.

“I didn’t realise how long I was gone.” She admitted, taking a seat opposite Yaz at the kitchen table, even if all she really wanted to do now was go back to her room and try and work out who that mystery woman was.

“You didn’t even notice it getting dark?” She could tell Yaz didn’t quite believe her.

Thea considered a moment. She could tell Yaz the truth- they were friends, after all. Best friends. By all accounts, she should tell her, but- something deep inside of her was screaming that telling Yaz about the woman in her vault would be a very bad idea. It seemed to be the kind of thing which she just knew should be kept secret.

“I went to the library.” She lied, digging a notebook out of her bag as though trying to prove her point. “Keep having these weird dreams, I’ve been trying to write them down. Thought I might try and make them into a book or something.”

Yaz blinked at her a few times. She seemed to have been caught off guard by that one. “Weird dreams?” She asked, taking her hands off of the mug in front of her and reaching for the book tentatively. Thea handed it over without complaint.

She hadn’t been planning on sharing them again, but in honesty doing so made her feel an awful lot less guilty about lying to Yaz about where she’d been.

“Is that me?” Yaz asked, holding up a sketch of the pair of them in some sterile room.

Thea grinned, nodding. “Yeah! That’s the one where we’re fighting the little goblin!”

“The goblin?”

Thea flicked forwards a few pages to another sketch of a pting. It had a snarl on it’s face, just like it’s real life counterpart had when they’d faced him on the hospital ship.

“I don’t know what I’m actually gonna call them, yet.” She admitted, “But he’s kind of cute, look. They’re these little goblin things that eat everything.”

“And you’ve been dreaming about this?” Yaz asked.

“Yeah. Probably just too much dodgy sci-fi before bed, but I think there are some cool ideas there, if I could streamline them into something.”

“And you- am I there a lot?”

Thea was suddenly very glad she wasn’t much of a blusher.

“Sometimes.” She admitted, not quite looking Yaz in the eye. “A fair bit, really. You’re my best mate, I like it when you show up. Those are always the best ones- we fight aliens and stuff.”

Yaz broke into an almost proud smile, and Thea had to remind herself not to stare. Had Yaz always looked that pretty when she smiled?

“Aliens?” she laughed, as though at some joke Thea didn’t quite get. “I thought they were goblins?”

“Can’t they be both?” Thea asked, flicking through the pages. “I have one in here about vampires who were fish, too…”

“I’m just saying.” Martha raised her hands in mock surrender, “Maybe if it’s been this long and I haven’t seen anything weird, and you haven’t had any weird readings, it was just a machine error or something.”

“There’s got to be a reason that we were brought here in the first place.” The Doctor responded stubbornly, not even looking up at her. He’d been tinkering with the same bit of the console throughout their entire conversation, and it certainly wasn’t helping her feel particularly heard in the situation.

It wasn’t like she needed his undivided attention- they’d not spoken in person once since she’d moved into the flat- but it was more than a little frustrating to be ignored while she was trying to report what was going on to him. It didn’t help that most of the reason she’d agreed to this in the first place was to learn about emerging technology, and since he’d registered her as a first year, she was going through all the basics over again.

“Go through it again.” He said, more instruction than request.

“Go through what?” Martha asked, showing her frustration a little more, now.

“What’ve you found.”

“I told you already! There’s nothing suspicious. No signs of aliens or anything, just a normal Uni campus.”

The Doctor made a frustrated noise, and Martha couldn’t tell whether it was aimed at her, or whatever he was fixing. He muttered something under his breath, quiet enough that she clearly wasn’t supposed to be able to hear it, though she could just about pick out the word Rose. That one stung.

Of course Rose would have been able to track down whatever was going on immediately.

Or, at least the Doctor might have believed her when she said that nothing seemed suspicious.

“The energy readings from your flat are off.” The Doctor insisted, finally giving up on what he was messing with, though if Martha thought she was actually going to have any attention paid to her she was sorely mistaken, since he moved straight back to checking the readouts on the monitor. “Who’s living there? You’re sure they’re all human?”

“Well I haven’t exactly tested them all.” Martha replied sarcastically, “But everyone seems normal. They’re eating and sleeping like humans.”

“Nobody’s wearing a shimmer?”

“What’s a shimmer?”

“Oh it’s all-“ he made a vague gesture in mid-air which was apparently supposed to mean something. “You know. A shimmer.”

Martha gave him a blank look.

“…Right.” He nodded after a minute. “I’ll get you something to test for a shimmer.”

“Doctor-“

He cut her off before she could actually voice her question, brow furrowing, “Oh- Yeah you’re right, that won’t work if they’re Zygons.” he said, despite not having given her time to actually say anything even if she had known what a Zygon was. “Tell you what, I’ll get you a DNA scanner too.”

“Hang on.” Martha said, “You want me to scan my flatmate’s DNA? How am I meant to do that?”

The Doctor shrugged her concerns off. “I know you’ll work it out.”

Her meeting with Jack had dragged Yaz right out of the town centre, to some pop-up milkshake shop which was she’d heard a few other students chatting about. She’d been meaning to ask if Thea wanted to go (as friends, obviously), so it wasn’t as though she was actively blaming jack for dragging her away from the University for a little while. After all, they had to make sure to avoid his past self.

She’d arrived first, though she could hardly be annoyed about that- it’d been her idea. She arrived, checked that Rose and the other Jack were absent, texted the all clear, then grabbed herself a drink, and snagged a booth in the back corner where they’d be able to chat with some degree of privacy.

“Yasmin Khan.” Yaz heard a voice that was becoming increasingly familiar from behind her, turning around to smile a little at Jack as he approached her.

It was odd, really- being relieved to see him, rather than dreading it. That first time she’d been scared out of her mind (though in fairness, he had kidnapped all three of them), and the second- well. She wasn’t too proud to admit that she’d been so overwhelmed by the Doctor’s return she’d hardly noticed Jack stepping out alongside her. This time though? Well, seeing someone she could actually talk to about all of this was amazing.

“Thank you for coming.”

“I’m always here to help a friend.” Jack said seriously, despite the grin on his face. He slid into the booth opposite her, “Loving the choice of venue, by the way. Very 1950s.”

“Remind you of home?” Yaz asked, just for something to fill the small talk, though she was really itching to get straight onto the topic at hand.

“You’d think.” Jack laughed slightly, as though at some joke she wasn’t privy to. She didn’t push him.

“So.” She said, when he didn’t elaborate. He sat forwards slightly in his seat, already knowing what she was about to say, “You know about this chameleon thing the Doctor used to make herself human?”

“Not quite.” Jack admitted, glancing over behind her, in the direction of the counter. “I know what it is, but I’ve never been around when she’s had to use it.”

Yaz seemed to deflate a little at that. It was hardly his fault, but she’d really been hoping for some more concrete advice about the whole situation.

Noticing her reaction, he gave her a reassuring look, “Hey, don’t worry. I haven’t see it but I called in a friend of mine who has. Great girl, you’ll like her. She was with the Doctor the last time. Plus she’s from this Time Zone so she’ll cause a lot less chaos hanging around here than either of us will.”

“You brought backup?” The relief on her face grew. She’d been beginning to feel very out of her depth, especially with all of Thea’s talk about weird dreams and secret rooms. What was she supposed to say to discourage Thea from sneaking around when she was supposed to be keeping herself safe? She was still the Doctor under all that, after all.

Jack grinned. “The Doctor drops into a lot of people’s lives. Makes a lot of friends. I knew a woman, once, used to say that for a lonely man, the Doctor had the biggest family in the world.”

Odd as it was to hear the Doctor being referred to as a lonely man, Yaz smiled. It was nice to think how many other people out there would always be there for the Doctor when she needed them.

“And this friend of yours can help?” She asked.

“Oh yeah.” He smiled at someone behind her, and Yaz turned to get a look. “PC Yasmin Khan, meet Dr-”

“Martha!” Yaz exclaimed, shock plain on her face, because- That was Martha, right? It was so clearly her. Except Martha was younger than this woman, by a fair few years, and at least judging by the shocked expression on her face, she didn’t recognise Yaz either.

“You two have met?” Jack asked, looking between them.

Both responded at the same time.

“Yes.”

“No.”

Another bewildered look shared, though Jack barking a laugh boke the tension.

“The joys of time travel.”

Martha seemed to relax slightly at that, slipping into the booth next to Jack, and setting a drink down in front of each of them. Yaz didn’t relax. She couldn’t just yet. If the Martha she’d met was younger, why didn’t this one seem to recognise her at all?

“Jack said the Doctor used the Chameleon Arch again?” Martha asked, drawing Yaz’s attention away from that issue for a moment. It was strange, but Jack had said she could help, and Yaz needed all the help she could get working out what was tracking them.

“That’s the thing that turns her human?” Yaz checked. The Doctor had never actually given it a name during their panicked preparations.

“Hang on, her?” Martha raised an eyebrow. “Blimy. He said he could change his face but I never knew he could change it that much.”

“You knew the white haired Scotsman?” Yaz asked. It was what the Doctor had said she’d looked like before.

“He got Scottish too? This must be a few regenerations since I last saw him.” Martha laughed. “I knew spikey hair and sandshoes.”

“Can’t believe I missed them turning Scottish.”

All three of them laughed a little at Jack’s statement, seeming to break a lot of the tension.

“So, spiky hair and sandshoes is who we think is here?” Yaz asked Jack. “You said the past you came here with a previous Doctor to investigate.”

“Oh, no. That was the Doctor with the ears and the leather jacket.” He supplied.

Yaz tried to picture the Doctor running around in a leather jacket, then quickly stopped herself. Nice as that image was, she doubted she’d get much else done today if she didn’t get it out of her head.

Still, that Martha thing was still nagging at her.

“Hang on, if the younger you,” Yaz nodded at Jack, “Is here with a younger Doctor. Then-” she glanced at Martha. “There’s a younger you living in the same flat as me and Rose. Does that mean…?”

“Another Doctor.”

Martha looked between Jack and Yaz, clearly thrown off by this whole thing.

“Hang on. I don’t remember coming here.”

“I don’t either, not really.” Jack said, though he seemed very calm about this whole thing. “Crossing your own timeline can sometimes scramble your head a bit. Makes you forget stuff, so you don’t find out about your own future too early.”

Martha gave him a look. “Do I want to know what you’ve been doing hanging around in your own timestream?” He winked at her, and based on the face she pulled, the answer was no.

“So, three Doctor’s then.” Yaz said, changing the subject. “That feels like a bad thing.”

“Well it’s not a good one.” Jack conceded. “We’re gonna need a way to differentiate, for a start.”

“Ears, Sandshoes and-“ Martha looked to the two who’d met the latest Doctor for a descriptor.

“Rainbows.” Yaz supplied. “She’s going by Thea Smith, right now, though.”

“Thea?” Martha looked surprised. “I would have expected Jane Smith.”

“Might be a little close to home.” Jack suggested.

The pair of them shared a sad look, and Yaz didn’t want to ask.

“Ears, Sandshoes, and Rainbows.” Yaz repeated, trying to get them back on topic.

“They’re like codenames.” Martha said. “It’s like we’re playing spies.”

Yaz felt a shiver run down her spine at the idea of ‘playing spies’. She’d been there, and fun as it had seemed at first… Well, she didn’t want to do it again. She thought about being on the run with Ryan and Graham, knowing how scared her family had to be, the plane, and that endless realm that those creatures had taken her to. They were all still fresh, and had very much put her off the James Bond lifestyle.

“Not spies.” She responded, quickly. The other two looked at her with some surprise. “There was a thing, with the Doctor, and some old mate-but-not-mate of hers. It wasn’t-“

Both of their expressions turned to understanding.

“The Master?” Jack asked and, when Yaz nodded, he spoke with the same bitter anger he’d used when talking about the daleks. “Pity. I’d hoped he’d stay dead.”

Opening up the diner portion of the TARDIS as a student hangout had seemed like a good idea at the time. They’d get to hear more gossip from around campus, and Clara had been kind of hoping it’d get them more information, though as of now she’d mostly just heard nonsense about who was dating who, and which of the tutors had the worst reputation.

The only real consolation was that they were far enough out of the way that they weren’t too busy, despite it being a Saturday morning. She had the distinct impression that most people were probably too hungover from the last night of Fresher’s week to fancy a milkshake.

It’d been an especially easy morning, really, since she’d roped Me into helping her out behind the counter, and she was just cleaning out one of the machines when her girlfriend had nudged her in the side, nodding towards a figure who’d just stepped into the shop.

“Is that…?”

“Jack Harkness.” Me responded, with a tone that suggested she was already bored of whatever drama he was about to drag them into.

It was hard to blame her- it wasn’t as though Earth had a lot of immortals, and from what stories of Me’s Clara had heard and read, they’d run into one another a fair few times over the years, usually with dramatic or dangerous results. Thankfully, he walked straight past them, to settle in a corner booth.

“What’re the bets that he’s behind this?”

Clara shot her a look that said ‘be nice’, despite the very real possibility he did have something to do with this.

“Should I go talk to him?” Clara asked.

Me shook her head. “I’ll do it. I’ve known him longer.”

“Play nice.” Clara said, a pleading note in her voice.

“I’m always nice.” Me responded in mock-offence, though the smile she gave Clara was a little too soft to maintain that charade. She leant in to kiss her girlfriend’s cheek, before slipping off towards the corner table.

The fact that they’d settled in the corner was honestly enough of a worry. There were two empty tables in between them and the nearest other customers, and they were speaking in the kind of low voices which implied they were plotting something.

“Okay, so no spy stuff.” Jack said as she approached, “But we’re keeping the code names.”

“Jack Harkness.” She said, drawing his attention, as well as that of his friends. “I should have known you’d be the source of all this.”

“Me.” Jack looked interested at her intrusion, even if his friends looked baffled. “Or, do I still have to call you Lady Me? Because you know I’m not big on titles.”

“Titles like Captain?” She retorted.

“Touché.” He smiled, in a way which made it unclear whether they were friends or foes. “Least you haven’t threatened me with a sword this time. Loving the uniform, by the way.”

“Still the same insufferable flirt, then?”

“You know you love it.” He grinned, before turning to his friends. “Martha, Yaz, meet Me. I have a feeling she might know a little bit about our problem.”

So, on the one hand, hanging around outside his dead wife’s office was an awful idea. On the other, the Doctor really couldn’t resist. He wasn’t planning on talking to her- he just wanted to see her, for a minute.

He knew that it would only upset him, really. He was just opening up an old wound. Somehow, though, that didn’t phase him. Seeing her for a few minutes- letting himself look back just once. It had to be worth it.

The Doctor was fully planning on seeing a face from his past that would make his hearts ache with loss- though the one he got was one that made them sink with guilt, instead.

Ashildr. He’d lost track of her a very long time ago- somewhere before all that hazy business on Gallifrey. Still, in this time zone he’d have assumed that she’d be managing Trap Street, still, not hanging around a University.

Not walking out of River Song’s office with a smile on her face.

Whatever she was planning, he already didn’t like it.

“Ashildr.” He said by way of greeting, glancing towards the door, but barely catching a glimpse of River before it slammed shut.

“Who?” From the look of false-innocence on her face, he got the impression that Ashildr was being purposefully difficult.

“You.”

“Call me Me, Doctor. How many times do I have to remind you?”

“Me isn’t a name.” He replied, sounding almost like a petulant child.

“Nor is Doctor.” Ashildr replied coolly, crossing her arms.

Since he didn’t have much of a retort for that one, he found himself falling silent for a moment, though when she didn’t get a response, and began to walk away, he found himself asking a question just to stop her from leaving just yet. He really didn’t like that she was here- with everything else that was going on, it made him nervous.

“What’re you doing here?” He asked, still not sounding the most friendly. He didn’t remember much about his last few meetings with Ashildr, but he remembered coming away from them very angry with her. She had to have done something, he just didn’t remember what.

She shrugged, maddeningly casual about the odd reunion. “The same thing as you, I imagine.”

Well that one certainly couldn’t be true. Ashildr may have had some questionable practices, but as far as the Doctor was concerned his and Missy’s current predicament had to be pretty unique.

“I really don’t think you are.”

Seemingly a little thrown off, she asked. “You’re not here investigating all the odd energy readings?”

“Energy readings?”

Ashildr narrowed her eyes at that. It clearly wasn’t the answer she’d been expecting, at any rate. “Why are you here, then?”

“I’ve got a thing to do.” He replied, sounding totally confident in his own vague explanation, even if she looked unconvinced.

“I told you once I’d protect the world from you, Doctor. I meant it.”

“I know you did.”

“Well then, I’d-”

Before either of them could continue their argument, the office door opened, and an annoyed looking River Song stuck her head out, looking between the pair of them as though they were naughty schoolchildren. Seeing that one of them was a Professor did nothing to change her demeanour- not that the Doctor had expected for a minute it would. Not with River.

“Excuse me, I don’t know what the two of you are bickering about, but if you could take it somewhere that isn’t right outside my door, I think it would be better for everybody. Okay?” She said sharply.

Ashildr offered a quick apology, while the Doctor suddenly found his throat had gone dry, his eyes fixed on the woman he’d been fairly sure he’d never see again.

She waited a full minute for him to speak, before beginning to disappear back inside. “Right, then. I’ll take the gawping fish look as a yes.”

“Y-Yes.” He just about managed as the door slammed shut between them.

By the time he’d managed to process what had happened and turned back to Ashildr to continue their argument, she was already disappearing from view at the end of the corridor.

After the third time going through the information they had at this point (which was about as little as they’d had when they arrived), Amy was really beginning to regret deciding to come back to the TARDIS instead of heading to the Student Union.

“Right…” The Doctor was pacing around the console, still. By now Amy was fairly sure he was talking more to himself than to them. “Right so what have we got? We’ve got a professor who doesn’t age-“

“We’ve got a professor who doesn’t age, and some weird energy readings coming from our flat.” She sighed, looking bored with the whole thing. “It’s the same thing we’ve known all week.”

“Wasn’t River trying to meet the professor.” Rory offered before either of them could say anything more. He just wanted them to stay on track, which between the Doctor and Amy was always a tricky task.

“He won’t set up a meeting with her.” Amy responded, “She said he turned her down when she made a proper request, and he’s never in his office when she goes.”

“So he’s onto her, then?” asked Rory.

“No…” The Doctor had moved back over to the scanner, now, bringing up those readings again, as though he was on the brink of some breakthrough the others couldn’t see. “No. Doesn’t make sense. I’m missing something-“ He turned to the pair of them. “What am I missing?”

Rory gave him a blank look.

“Right. Of course. In my head. Yeah…” The TARDIS made a wheezing noise, which appeared to mean something to him based on his reaction. “Oh! Oh, yes. That’s good, okay…” He began digging through a drawer under the console.

“What’s good?” Amy asked, leaning forwards to try and get a look what he was messing about with. When he didn’t respond right away she actually stepped over to get a look at the odd little device he was holding. It looked a bit like a USB drive, just with a display screen. “Doctor? What’s that?”

“What does he teach?” He asked, instead of answering her.

Amy hesitated. She knew that Bill, Thea and Jenny had been to lectures with their mystery professor, but she’d never bothered to work out what the lectures were actually about.

“Oh, I don’t know. I could ask my flatmate, he’s her personal tutor. Not sure what she studies, though.”

“Oh, that’s great.” He tossed the not-USB-drive to her, “DNA scanner. Should be able to work out if he’s human or not. You’ve just got to get close enough to use it.”

“And how am I meant to do that?” She asked, turning it over in her hands.

“Ask your friend if you can tag along to lectures or something.”

“Oh, great.” Amy replied, sarcastically, “You’re signing me up for mystery lectures with the maybe-alien professor.”

“Try and use it on your flatmates too, if you can.” The Doctor responded, either not picking up on the sarcasm, or deliberately ignoring it. He was messing about trying to wire something into the console, now, though he seemed to be mostly doing a lot of running around and sonicing various things.

Amy looked the device in her hands over. “You should’ve given me this earlier. Would have been easy to use it if I went to that comedy night with Rose-“

There was a clatter, followed by a squealing noise from the sonic, as it protested being dropped.

“Something wrong, Doctor?” Rory peered around the central console, looking concerned.

The Doctor picked up the sonic quickly, trying to brush off his slip-up. “What? No. Fine. I’m fine. Totally fine.”

Amy raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah. Because when someone says ‘fine’ that many times in one sentence, that usually means it’s true. What happened?”

“I had a friend called Rose once, that’s all.” He seemed to be staying at the other side of the console just so he didn’t have to meet their eyes. “Long time ago.”

“You’ve never mentioned her.” Amy said, nothing accusatory in her tone, though she certainly sounded curious.

The Doctor smiled a little, now, in that far off and slightly sad way he did when he was remembering something long since passed. “I don’t always like talking about the people I’ve lost.”

“She sounds special.”

“Oh, she was. Great woman, that Rose Tyler.”

Now, it was Amy’s turn to drop what she was holding.

[reyesstrand]

not sure if I’m allowed to send another but, what about 85 for tarlos?

sorry for the wait for this, but this idea got in my head and it kind of got out of control — a good ending to this series, i guess!! i hope you enjoy! 

prompt taken from this list. also available on ao3!!

Three weeks to the day after the solar flare, Carlos receives a cryptic text from his mom: come for lunch today?

He mulls it over; he loves his mother, and it’s no secret to anybody that knows him that he’s a total mama’s boy, but there’s got to be a reason behind her impromptu meal, and an evil part of his mind tells him it has to be bad news. She doesn’t mention anything about his sisters joining them, and Carlos doesn’t know if that should stress him out more or less. If it’s something bad, he’d assume that he and his sisters would find out at the same time — but that only leaves him more confused.

She’s a strong woman, and is a complete health-nut — ever since his abuela started having mobility issues, his mother’s been a champion for organic eating and natural sleep aids and doing yoga every morning. Carlos can’t put bad news from the doctor completely off the table, but he starts to drift towards the other countless possibilities — and so he can’t say no to her. Even if it’s his only day off that lines up with TK’s schedule, he spares a glance at his softly snoring boyfriend before figuring the man’s close enough with his own father that he’ll have to understand a shift in plans. And so Carlos finds himself more alert than he’d been when he’d rubbed sleep from his eyes and initially checked his phone five minutes ago, thumbs hovering over the screen before he sends her a simple of course, mami, and sets about getting ready for the day after pressing a quick kiss to TK’s hairline.

He’s showered and had his coffee and is trying to quietly get dressed when Carlos hears TK groan and grumble, clearly fighting between catching a little more sleep and getting out of bed. Carlos watches with a small smile as TK slowly sits up when he realizes he’s alone in bed, before their gazes catch, and his heart soars as TK’s eyes visibly light up at seeing him.

“Everything okay?” TK asks, voice still deep and groggy, and Carlos nods as he starts on buttoning up his shirt.

“We might have to change our plans today,” Carlos says apologetically. “I really—fuck, I really wanted to spend he day with you, but my mom wants me to come over and she usually doesn’t spring stuff like that on me unless there’s something wrong, and—”

“Hey,” TK cuts him off, and Carlos raises his brows at him. “It’s okay, seriously. Marjan’s been bugging me to take Buttercup to get some pampering, anyway.”

“You’re the best,” Carlos says, and TK grins at him.

“Damn straight.”

TK tilts his head up, clearly looking for a kiss. Carlos huffs out a laugh and comes in close, so their mouths are nearly touching, before he whispers, “You have no shame, do you.”

“Nope,” TK grins, eyes crinkling in the corners, popping the p before he closes the space between them and gets the kiss he wanted. “I’ll see you later, though?”

His eyes shine with hopefulness, and Carlos nods earnestly. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way home.”

There’s another brief kiss, before Carlos sighs as he presses their foreheads together.

“I hate just leaving on you,” Carlos admits, even though the thoughts surrounding what his mom’s intentions are with lunch are swirling around his mind.

“I’ll be fine,” TK says, ducking forward to press another kiss to the corner of Carlos’ mouth. “Say hi to your mom for me.”

It’s only half a joke — TK’s been talking, metaphorically, about meeting Carlos’ family for a week or so. He mentions it whenever Carlos talks about childhood memories or a story from one of his sisters, noting that Carlos has known his dad technically even before he knew TK. But it never evolves from a few jokes, and even though Carlos wants nothing more than to continue to make their relationship solidified through introducing each other properly to the people that mean the most to them, he doesn’t know how to seriously approach that subject.

Instead of trying now, Carlos leaves with a promised, “I’ll see you later,” before he grabs his keys and phone and makes his way out of his home.

The half-hour drive goes by mostly in a blur, because he’s too caught up in what might unfold at the lunch. They usually try to have big family dinners bi-weekly, due to everyone’s work schedules and his sister’s kids’ schedules, but he can’t remember the last time a meal like this was just dropped on him the day-of. He does have the right state of mind to stop and grab his mom a bouquet of lilies, her favourite, before he pulls up to the humble farmhouse he’d lived in his whole childhood.

“Is everything okay?”

The words are out of his mouth within seconds of stepping into the house, half-startling his mother as she pours out two glasses of sweet tea.

“Can’t I ask my favourite son to have lunch with me when I know it’s his day off?”

Carlos flushes a bit, handing the flowers to his mom as she pulls him in for a hug. “I’m your only son.”

“Still my favourite,” she grins, smacking a kiss on his cheek before she gestures toward the back deck. He follows her, taking a deep breath as he goes.

* * *

“I know something is up, baby.”

He'd been expecting something regarding her own well-being or health, or his abuela's, so when the conversation turns to him he's sort of confused. And Carlos has grown up hearing from people that he has his mother’s eyes, and as he looks into them now, he thinks he sees the similarities as she looks at him with a particular warmth laced with concern he’s been accustomed to since he was born.

“You know, I saw an interesting photo of you the other day,” she says it off-handedly, but Carlos still manages to choke on his drink. She doesn’t hesitate, going on to describe the picture he knows intimately because he posted it to his Instagram only forty-eight hours ago: him and TK, smiling as they stand close, too close to just be friendly to any onlooker, taken by Paul in the late hours of the night as they strolled around downtown after their shifts. He hadn’t even considered his family seeing the photo, and he silently rues the day his sisters made their mother various social media accounts so she could keep up with their lives. Her voice turns soft, as she squeezes his arm and asks, “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“Uh, I have to pee.”

He says it quickly enough that he can run off to inside the house, where the remnants of their lunch sits scattered over the counter. Carlos beelines for the bathroom and leans against the sink as he pulls out his phone.

how do you feel about my mom knowing about you?

seriously.

Carlos sends the messages to TK and taps his phone against the heel of his palm as he waits for a response. He thinks back to his mother’s implications — that she knows about them, is okay with them — and figures that he could always lie. It’ll look suspicious as hell, of course, after he just fucked off like that, but he’s never really brought any boyfriends around before. Mainly because he’s never been in a serious enough relationship to warrant that. But he thinks — he knows that there’s something real between him and TK, and he wouldn’t hate his mom and eventually his sisters knowing about him and meeting him and welcoming him into the fold of their family dynamic. But he needs to make sure this is still something TK’s okay with, that it’s going at his pace.

TK texts him back quickly, like always. i was serious about wanting to meet her someday. maybe even soon. so if you want to talk about me i support you.

you’re sure? Carlos texts back, as he feels his nerves starting to both tamper off and confusingly grow at the same time as he walks toward the backyard again, preparing to let his mother into this part of his life.

100%. tell her only the good things, i wanna impress her, TK replies, along with a string of heart emojis. Carlos huffs a little, quickly typing out, she’ll love you no matter what, before pocketing his phone and sliding back into his seat across from his mother.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, meeting her eyes, and as he opens his mouth to continue, she quickly interjects.

“Don’t lie to me, Carlos,” she warns, though there’s warmth behind her words, a desperate plea to tell him that she wants to be included in this part of his life, no matter how new it might be. "You know you can talk to me."

So Carlos takes another deep breath, not really looking at his mother as he whispers: “I met someone, mami.”

He stares down at the ground; after a few seconds, he shifts his gaze to stare at the blooming gardens that live in clusters around the yard, various vegetables and flowers alike growing with vengeance as the summer welcomes them back into the world. When she makes a noise and he finally meets her gaze again, she’s looking at him with nothing but fondness.

“Oh, baby,” his mom is smiling, now, and she brings his face close to press a kiss to his forehead.

“It’s only been official for a few weeks but, um, I really like him,” Carlos admits, as his mother lovingly squeezes his hand. With a laugh, he adds: “I like him a lot. And I’d love for you to meet him.”

His mother leans forward and curls her arms around him, like she did when he was a kid and he felt too small to conquer the world, and he immediately feels calm wash over him. “I would love to, mijo.”

(Carlos has a flash of a memory, then, coming out when he was fifteen years old and terrified but desperate for his truth to be known. He first told his older sister Camila, and then his mother a couple of days later, and he remembers so vividly how they hugged his then-tiny frame, all knobbly bones and a height he was getting used to, both of them supportive and loving and adamant that nothing would change how much they love him. He towers over both of them now, but he feels protected in his mother’s arms, like he always has).

As they pull out of the hug, his mother elbows him good-naturedly. “Alright, tell me about this boy then.”

His mama’s grinning at him teasingly as she says it, and Carlos sits back and huffs out a laugh of his own, rubbing the back of his neck.

“His name’s TK. He’s a firefighter,” Carlos says, barely holding back a bigger smile when his mother makes an approving face at that tidbit of information. “He’s—he’s funny and beautiful and has the warmest heart.”

“I’m so happy for you,” his mother says, eyes bright with love, as if just listening to him talk about TK has made her realize how truly happy he is. And maybe it's allowed himself to look at inside retrospectively and figure out that yeah, he is happier than he's ever been. “I’m sure I’ll love him. You’ll have to bring him around.”

“I will,” Carlos promises, feeling like he’s floating on air. “Oh, and he’s from New York City.”

He says it pointedly, knowing his mother’s always wanted to travel to the Big Apple.

“Well,” his mother says, “I guess we’ll have to show your city boy how we do family dinners, then.”

She brings him in for another hug as she smiles, before she goes off to refill their glasses. Carlos sits back, considering the idea of TK being a part of his family, for good — and he finds that he wants nothing else in the world.

[chaoticowlpost]

Hi GiRa, I don’t know if you do this, but do you have Captive Prince fic Recs? I’ve followed you for the Draco/Harry content, but Damen and Laurent looked like something I would enjoy so I’ve read all the books last week. It was sooooo good 😍 and now I need all the quality fic in my life. Please help!

Hello​ nonnie~ Yes omg I do have fic recs but I’m afraid they may be a little biased as of now haha. That’s because I leaned towards fics in the setting of the canon when I first started but then slowly began reading Modern AU fics as I went- and I haven’t gone through nearly enough fics yet,- so I’ll probably have to do another sweep of all the fics on AO3, BUT here are some fics I’d love to recommend to start with 

1. @mfingenius

That’s it, that’s the tweet. HBFSJDF okay no I’m joking but I absolutely love their works and they were the one who introduced me to capri. There’s a bunch of short fics on their account that I like to indulge in constantly and you should definitely check it out because there’s too many for me to just pick one!

2. itallends ( @goldencuffs )

For Better, for Worse (9.2k) - Laurent arches an eyebrow. “I am married, Jord.”

Jord blinks at him slowly. “…To your job?”

“To a man.” 

Jord’s eyes fall on Laurent’s bare left hand. 

”Right,” he says.

Or: five times Laurent says he’s married, and the one time everyone finally believes him.

Receipts and Reciprocity (9.5k) -  Damen has a thing for buying Laurent stuff.

I love their works with my whole heart nobody touch me hnfdgjg but seriously these are some of my favorite fics! They’re both Modern AUs if that’s what you’re looking for and partial reason as to why I started opening up more towards Non-Canon setting fics. 

3.  waywardwriter

Courts, Crowns, and A Little Game of Chess (55k) - In an attempt to diffuse the rising tensions between Akielos and Vere, Prince Auguste invites a group of Akielon ambassadors to the Veretian court. He expects many things to come out of this visit: trade agreements, festivities and celebrations, and perhaps the emergence of better diplomatic relations between the two nations. What he did not expect, however, was for his younger brother to take an interest in the Crowned Prince of Akielos.

AKA: The fic where Laurent is a reserved, bookish, hero-worshipping boy who meets Prince Damianos for the first time.

 Waking Up To You (1.7k) -  Damen wakes up from his wisdom teeth surgery only to find the most beautiful man in the world sitting beside him.

I couldn’t help but insert Waking Up To You  😞 It’s a weakness because why wouldn’t I want a high-as-balls Damen just being in love with Laurent in general. The first fic, however, is up among one of my favorites. Damen courting Laurent? Sign me the fuck up! This was so well written I just fell in love with all of the characters.

4. DisraeliGears 

Anything For You (39k) - Laurent will do anything for Damen. Including make friends with Nikandros…if he must.

The story of Nikandros and Laurent’s friendship.

A Party of Our Own (5.5k) -  Nikandros escapes Damen’s party for some alone time…and ends up locked in the wine cellar with Laurent. As one could probably imagine, some snarking happens. And some airing of grievances.

These fics are mainly Nikandros and Laurent building a relationship and getting to understand one another and I’m absolutely HERE for it! The characterization of Laurent was so well done and Anything For You is also among my top favorites because of how intense it was towards the end and just everything Laurent did in general, but through Nikandros’ eyes (even better!)

5. damnmads & The Librarina (tears_of_nienna)

Pawn Sacrifice (85k) - The war with Akielos has settled into an uneasy alliance, and Prince Damianos is sent to spend a year at Arles. Seven years later, he returns to Vere to offer condolences to King Auguste on the death of his father. But Auguste’s younger brother is much changed, as is the political climate in Vere, and Prince Laurent is the target of an assassin. When Damen returns to Akielos, an unexpected guest is sent with him—but danger follows, and the fate of two kingdoms hangs in the balance.

What might have changed if Auguste lived—and what was inevitable, even so.

Another Auguste Lives AU because I love him and yes (the best brother™)  . This is a slow burn fic about how the story might have gone if Auguste lived to become king and how Damen and Laurent’s relationship might have gone. It’s quite a lengthy read but I think it’s a great fic to immerse yourself in if you’ve got the time

6.  Just_Another_Day

Five Times Laurent and Damen Unintentionally Caused an International Incident (and One Time They Meant To) (28k) -  Everyone in the world knows for a fact that Laurent and Damen despise each other with a burning passion despite their countries supposedly being allies. Strangely, though, the two of them seem to have missed that whole ‘hatred’ memo. Nikandros really doesn’t get paid enough to deal with this shit.

The title says it all and it’s absolutely perfect! Pray for Nikandros and give him a raise in this Modern Royalty AU because Damen and Laurent can’t keep their feels out of view for anything so watch as these boys in love make Nikandros lose 10 years of his life.

7.  thewriterofperfectdisasters

kimihia (22k) - Laurent frowned and drummed his fingers against his laptop as he considered what to say. In theory, nothing was stopping him from going to Greece. Nothing was stopping him from maybe running into someone he met over Tinder. The only thing standing in his way was his own apprehension and mistrust about the whole situation.

A Modern AU with the help of online dating because why not. This is such a feel good AU and it just makes me so happy to read it so I hope you like it as well

8.  Entity_Sylvir

How Not To Court A Veretian Prince (13k) - “He was—” Damen breaks off, swallows hard, pauses in the manner of a man soundly failing to find an explanation in what he is trying to explain, “—really pretty.”

“What,” says Nikandros, “the fuck.”

-

The first time Damen meets Laurent, he mistakes him for a pet. It doesn’t go well.

No one lets him forget it.

Words cannot DESCRIBE how much I love this fic! The fanart, the way Damen’s actions come to haunt him, and Laurent being a little shit™ in the best way had me cackling and just everything about this fic had me in love.

9.  dawnofthursday ( @americancupsofbritishtea )

The Pitfalls of being Overprotective (2.2k) - Auguste makes a discovery, and then wishes he hadn’t.

Another fic that had me screaming because Auguste deserved whatever he got in this fic for being big brother™. I’m not sure what else to say without spoiling it because this is absolutely hilarious but you gotta read the tags (PLEASE READ THE TAG IT’S GREAT)

10.  LaLaCat1

The Oath (78k) -  Young prince Laurent arrives in time to stop the killing blow from falling at Marlas. A split second decision has Damen swearing Auguste an oath to protect his younger brother, and it’s not until he brings the Veretian princes back to parley with his father that Damen realizes how difficult that oath will be to keep.

Okay so this fic is also kinda intense but it’s another AU about what would happen if Auguste lived and the amount of feels and stress (good stress) that came with this fic was just.. damn. I’ve lost sleep on this fic and every moment was worth it so if you’re interested in this type of fic, definitely give it a read when you can!

There are probably a few more in my list somewhere that I haven’t been able to update but here are a few to get you started! I hope you enjoy them as much as I did and I hope I was able to help

By the way, if anyone knows the tumblr accounts of the authors I tagged, could you please tell me? I’d love to give them a follow to keep up with them and help others find their accounts as well if they’re interested! 

[mikauzoran]

Platonic Alyanette/Adrienette/Ladrien: Drunk Ladybug on My Balcony? Yeah. This is Fine.: Chapter Five

Read it on AO3: Drunk Ladybug on My Balcony? Yeah. This is Fine.: Chapter Five: Horrifying Realization

Marinette looked up from her sewing machine and noted that Alya was still glaring at a mostly blank page on her laptop screen, her cursor blinking tauntingly much where it had been fifteen minutes ago when Marinette had last checked on her brooding companion.

“Everything okay?” she tentatively called to her best friend. “You don’t look like you’re making much progress on that article.”

Alya growled softly, sinking back into the cushion of Marinette’s chaise longue and gripping her hair with both hands at the roots. “Ugh. I just can’t focus right now.”

Marinette spun around in her chair to face Alya and give her her undivided attention. She arched an eyebrow concernedly as she inquired, “Anything in particular on your mind? You seem kind of irritated. If you need to vent, I’m all ears.”

Alya blew out a sigh and sat back up, gently closing her laptop and setting it aside. “I’m just…baffled, and, you know me, I can’t stand a mystery that resists solving.”

Marinette cocked her head to the side, intrigued. “What kind of mystery are you trying to crack?”

Alya bit her lip, hesitating, not wanting to tip her hand. She shook her head and waved dismissively in an attempt to minimize the significance of the problem to Marinette. “Oh, it’s just something I’m investigating. It’s driving me nuts because…has Adrien made you watch Kurosawa’s Rashomon?”

Marinette pursed her lips and wrinkled her brow as she silently repeated the film’s title to herself, trying to summon up some recollection. “Maybe? Sorry. Which one is that again? He always refers to them by their original Japanese titles, so sometimes they kind of blur together in my head.”

Alya smiled affectionately, explaining, “It’s the one where the characters all give their accounts of the same events, but their stories are all different and contradict one another.”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “Oooooh. Yeah. Is that the one where the guy takes home the abandoned baby at the end?”

The smile melted off of Alya’s face, turning down into a frown. “That’s the part you remember?”

Marinette shrugged simply. “That’s the most important part of the film, isn’t it? After watching the ugly sides of humanity portrayed in the rest of the film, the guy taking the baby home is something that inspires hope for the future. I really liked that.”

“Huh,” Alya replied thoughtfully, seeing Marinette’s point. “I mean, yeah,” she chuckled. “I guess you’re right.”

Marinette nodded, a self-satisfied grin just peeking out of the side of her mouth. “Of course I’m right. Adrien really likes that part too.”

“Nino likes the cinematography,” Alya snickered. “After Adrien showed it to him, he went on and on and on about the camera angles for three solid weeks.”

“Typical Nino,” Marinette laughed fondly. “So…what does the movie have to do with your investigation?”

Alya sighed as the frustration came rushing back. “The people I’ve interviewed’s stories aren’t lining up. They can’t possibly both be telling the truth, and yet, I don’t think either of them is lying to me. At least, they don’t seem to think that they’re lying, so…I just don’t know what to think, Marinette, and it’s making me want to scream. I’m going to figure this out,” she asserted, fire behind the declaration. “I am fueled by sheer annoyance!”

Marinette nodded encouragingly. “You’ll get it eventually. I’ve never known anything to be able to stop you once you set your mind to something, so I’m not holding out hope that this mystery will stand a chance against you for long.”

“You better believe it,” Alya snorted and then took a deep, cleansing breath so that she could appear to switch topics. “…So…”

Marinette’s head tipped to the right. “…Soooo?”

“Bear with me,” Alya requested, “but I just had movie night with Adrien, and we were talking about some things.”

Marinette shifted uncomfortably, eyeing her friend warily. “What is it?”

“I was just wondering…have you interacted much with Adrien as Ladybug?” Alya put it out there and then held her breath, eager for the results that would crack her case wide open.

Marinette blinked in surprise and then seemed to consider, searching her memories.

Alya frowned slightly.

Adrien had said that he and Ladybug interacted regularly, that they often had conversations and hung out, that they were close. If that were true, it wouldn’t be taking Marinette this long to come up with an answer…unless she was hiding something from Alya. But why would she do that now that her identity as Ladybug was no longer a secret?

“No,” Marinette finally answered. “Not really. I mean, no more so than any other Parisian who gets caught up in the akuma attacks as much as he does.”

“So…you two haven’t, like, had any lifechanging heart-to-heart talks?” Alya verified.

Marinette gave her a strange look. “Nope. When I’m transformed, I have a job to do. We’ve made chitchat while I’ve carried him to safety from time to time, but I don’t recall anything revolutionary or earthshattering ever being discussed. I think I would know if I’d reached that kind of romantic checkpoint with my crush.”

“Well, you have as Marinette,” Alya reminded encouragingly.

Marinette deflated, head dropping to her chest as she moaned, “Yeah, after a year of acting like a complete idiot in front of him.”

Alya rolled her eyes. “He thinks you’re adorable.”

Marinette scoffed, just as Alya had anticipated she would, and looked up. “Why are you asking about Ladybug and Adrien, Alya?”

Alya shrugged, playing it off casually as she switched the cross of her legs. “So, you don’t ever use your superpowers to go visit civilians and befriend them?”

Marinette gaped at Alya as if she suspected that her friend might be going insane. “No? How irresponsible would that be? If Papillon ever found out that Ladybug visited civilians, he would target them. I would never take that risk,” she stressed.

Alya quirked an eyebrow. “And yet, didn’t you tell me the other day that Chat Noir has been coming to visit Marinette for years now?”

Marinette averted her eyes, a soft blush flooding her cheeks. “That’s different.”

“How so?” Alya chortled. “Because you like it when the guy you love comes to woo your civilian self?”

“Because he’s lonely,” Marinette answered defensively. “I can go out as Marinette pretty much whenever I want and interact with whomever I want, but it’s not like that for Chat Noir.”

Alya’s grin faltered. “It’s not?”

Marinette shook her head vehemently. “Don’t breathe a word of what I’m about to say to anyone, but he has a really restrictive homelife.”

Alya’s eyes widened in surprise, and she leaned forward. “He does?”

Marinette sighed ruefully, “His mother died a while ago, and his father has been a really controlling jerk since then. He reminds me of Adrien’s father, actually, so imagine Gabriel Agreste, but, like, three times worse.”

Alya winced in sympathy. She knew how bad Gabriel Agreste could be to Adrien. She didn’t want to imagine worse neglect and abuse than that.

“So you see why it’s a different matter entirely for Chat Noir to use his Miraculous to get out of the house and go interact with other humans,” Marinette summarized, with a decisive nod.

Alya’s lips rounded into a pensive “O” as she took stock of this information. “Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense…. So…Ladybug doesn’t have any civilian friends?”

Marinette pursed her lips. “Civilian acquaintances, yes. Chat Noir and I get ice cream sometimes with Monsieur Ramier after he gets akumatized, but I wouldn’t consider us ‘friends’. Just friendly acquaintances.”

Alya nodded, trying to assimilate the additional facts she had gained.

So far, Adrien’s story was falling through, but Alya couldn’t bring herself to throw doubt on him yet. He’d been far too adamant about being close to Ladybug, about it not being a celebrity crush because he’d been on the receiving end of that much of his life and knew how horrible it could be.

Alya couldn’t make herself believe that Adrien was just delusional. There had to be something there.

“So…keep humoring me, but has Adrien ever told you he loves you?” Alya moved on, digging deeper.

Marinette gave her a bland, unimpressed look. “You mean other than in my dreams? No, Alya. What the heck is up with all the bizarre questions?”

“The why isn’t important,” Alya insisted with authority. “Just roll with it. I’m coming up with new tactics to get you and Adrien together.”

Marinette’s eyebrows slowly came together into a “V” of confusion. “But I decided to give up on Adrien.”

“Yeah, but if you change your mind, I’ve got it covered,” Alya explained, not convincing Marinette. “So Adrien’s never confessed his love for you?”

Marinette gave a longsuffering sigh. “Only to tell me what a great friend I am and how much he treasures my friendship.”

“Be nice,” Alya chided. “Friendship is a heck of a big deal to him. All he had was Chloé for thirteen years.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Marinette grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. “It just stings to get passively rejected like that over and over.”

“I know, Girl,” Alya cooed sympathetically. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not what you want, but try to take solace in how important being his friend makes you to him.”

“I know.” Marinette clicked her tongue in frustration. “I’m just sick of trying to make the best of things and looking on the bright side and taking the high road.”

“I get it,” Alya assured, “but I think we can still get you where you want to be.”

Marinette gave her a skeptical look. “Oh, yeah? How…if we overlook for a minute that I’m giving up on Adrien?”

“Has anyone ever confessed their love for you as Ladybug?” Alya tried a different route, trying to root out the truth.

Marinette sank petulantly in her desk chair. “Yeah, like, everyone and their dog. Ladybug is pretty universally loved.”

“No, like, seriously,” Alya clarified. “For real. Not just some crazy fan. Is there someone who actually loves Ladybug?”

Marinette almost replied automatically but then paused and considered. “I mean…if you’re asking about a civilian who loves Ladybug, then, no…but…there’s Chat Noir. I know that’s probably not what you mean, but…”

The gears in Alya’s mind caught on a snag and abruptly stopped, unable to keep turning as she came to an alarming solution that she wished she could dismiss out of hand.

She gulped, took a deep breath, and carefully inquired, “In the beginning, did you think Chat Noir was just joking when he told you he loved you?”

Marinette groaned, hiding her face in her hands. “Yeees. I know I’m the worst, but he was so over-the-top that I couldn’t take him seriously. It wasn’t until Glaciator when Chat Noir showed up on my balcony feeling all heartbroken over Ladybug that I realized that he was actually for real, and I felt awful, Alya.”

“But then you two talked and got things straightened out,” Alya added breathlessly, in a state of shock as she recalled what Adrien had told her.

“Yeah,” Marinette sighed, dropping her hands to her lap. “I still felt really bad for not returning his feelings, though, but I explained about how my heart was with someone else because I was pursuing Adrien at that point, so…”

Suddenly, things made too much sense, and Alya wished that they would stop because the solution she’d come to was just too ridiculous.

If Ladybug had been turning down Chat Noir because Marinette was in love with Adrien who was in love with Ladybug who was Marinette who loved Adrien who was Chat Noir…Alya was going to scream and pull her hair out and eat Nino’s hat or something.

Marinette jumped as Alya let out an involuntary curse. “W-What? What happened? What’s wrong?”

Alya cursed again, louder and more indignantly.

“Alya, what?” Marinette demanded. “You’re freaking me out.”

“Give me a minute,” Alya groaned, picking up the pillow on Marinette’s chaise and pressing it to her face, yelling into it.

Marinette sat staring at her best friend, utterly perplexed and not a small bit concerned.

Alya lowered the pillow about half a minute later, took a deep breath, and explained, “My life is dumb. Everything is so stupid and dumb, and my life’s work has no meaning because secret identities are infuriating.”

Marinette blinked uncomprehendingly. “Alya…are you okay?”

“No,” Alya replied calmly. “But you know what?”

“What?” Marinette played along, hoping that things would start making sense soon.

“It’s going to be okay,” Alya assured, fueled by a new sense of determination. “I’m going to fix everything, and it’s going to be fine.”

“Oh. That’s good,” Marinette replied, not so sure.

“New plan,” Alya announced, clapping her hands as she got to her feet and went over to Marinette, gently pulling the other girl up to standing and placing her hands on a very confused Marinette’s shoulders. “Step one. We need to make things right between you and Chat Noir.”

Marinette’s brow scrunched up, eyes narrowing. “Between Marinette and Chat Noir or Ladybug and Chat Noir? Because everything’s fine between us, Alya. Our partnership is great. Our friendship is great. Everything’s great. No fixing necessary.”

“Wrong,” Alya countered, pinning Marinette to the spot with an intense gaze.

Marinette saw the drive in Alya’s eyes and knew better than to argue.

“Girl, I know you told Chat Noir that there was someone else and that nothing was going to happen between you two, but your words and your actions aren’t lining up.”

Marinette’s frown deepened, shifting from confusion to apprehension. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’ve unintentionally been leading the poor boy on for years now,” Alya explained patiently yet decidedly. “You’re really bad at hiding your feelings, Marinette. The only reason Adrien doesn’t know is because his father kept him locked up the first thirteen years of his life, so he has zero understanding of social cues. You may have told Chat Noir that nothing was going to happen, but your actions have been hinting at the fact that you have feelings for him, so he’s been stuck in this loop of you telling him no with your words but then turning around and telling him maybe with your actions.”

Marinette’s face blanched in horror as she thought of her behavior around Chat Noir. Part of her wanted to tell Alya that she was off base, but a larger part knew that what Alya was saying rang true.

She had told Chat Noir in no uncertain terms that there was someone else and that they could only be partners and friends, but…there was the platonic flirting, just to start with. It had only been platonic for a short while. After Marinette had started to reciprocate Chat’s feelings, the flirting had ceased to be in jest. She hadn’t told Chat that she was serious, but…maybe there was a part of him that could tell.

And then there was the way she was so handsy with him. It was true that friends could be physically affectionate without there having to be romantic feelings, but…the hugs and the snuggling on rooftops and the casual touches…it had meant something to her, and she knew it had meant something to him. The only thing was that he hadn’t known what she was feeling, but…what if Alya was right and he had picked up on her romantic interest in him?

What if she’d unknowingly been giving him false hope all this time? It had never been her intention to lead him on. She wanted him to find someone to love him, find someone who made him happy. What if he’d pushed pause on all of that while waiting for her?

She felt sick, thinking that she’d been keeping him waiting, keeping him trapped because she knew he would wait forever for her if she gave him the slightest sliver of hope.

It was Marinette’s turn to curse loudly.

“Yeah,” Alya sighed in agreement.

“Alya, what do I do?!” Marinette demanded, gripping her friend by the arms, beginning to freak out.

“Deep breath,” Alya coached, inhaling and exhaling slowly so that Marinette could follow along.

They repeated the process several times until Marinette had markedly calmed down.

“Okay. Now what?” Marinette urged. “How do I fix this?”

“Call him,” Alya instructed. “Right now. Transform and call him and ask him to meet, and then come clean. Tell him what you told me the other day about how you love him, but it can’t happen because of your duty to Paris and the Guardian thing and the other guy you’re in love with and all that. Be honest with him and tell him you want him to give other people in his life a chance because you want him to be happy. Encourage him to move on. Give him the closure he needs, so he’ll know once and for all that nothing is happening between you two.”

Marinette blinked owlishly. “You want me to call him right now?”

Alya nodded. “Did I stutter? ‘Right now’ means right now, so hop to it. Put your spots on, call your cat-boy, and get this sorted out.”

“Like…right now?” Marinette gulped.

Alya stepped back, crossing her arms in disapproval as she gave Marinette a look that clearly begged the question, “Seriously?”

“I’m just…not prepared,” Marinette tried to finagle. “Usually, before I try to confess my feelings to Adrien, I come up with a plan and a script, so I’m prepared. Tikki and I practice roleplaying, and I memorize my lines, and—”

“—And that never works,” Alya cut in, not taking no for an answer.

Adrien had waited long enough. It was time Ladybug let him off the hook so that he could move on and be happy with Marinette.

Marinette’s shoulders rose up to meet her ears as she grumbled, “You never know. It might one of these days.”

“Tikki,” Alya called out for backup, “could you please tell her to get her butt in gear already? She’s stalling.”

“Tikki,” Marinette whined, “Alya’s being brutally honest, and I don’t like it.”

The kwami gave a soft, affectionate sigh as she flew down from her perch and nuzzled Marinette’s cheek. “I know you don’t think you’re ready, Marinette, but, if you wait until you do feel ready, you may never tell him how you feel at all. Maybe extemporaneous speaking would be good for you,” she encouraged, ever the optimist and cheerleader.

Marinette looked almost persuaded, but a hint of doubt remained, pinched between her eyebrows.

“After all,” Tikki continued, “do you really want to keep Chat Noir dangling in the dark for any longer than you already have? It has been six years since you realized you had feelings for him, Marinette. I think it would be best to tell him sooner rather than later.”

“Oh, all right,” Marinette sighed, sinking back down into her desk chair. “You two win. I’ll call him and figure out what to tell him on the fly. Tikki, transform me.”