#a couple of months ago I found my old notes and sketches of this and um

[calmbigdipper]

What you mean to me

[ryuichirou]

Replies

A couple of replies today.

Anonymous asked:

Hell yeah, I’d get a daki from you. Also, Edmund as a body pillow? I’d eat that right up! (You can take that literally or figuratively.) Also a Lilia daki would be sexy af. Hmmm, depending on my cash situation later, I’d love to get an Idia dakimakura. The thought of his over flustered face makes me positively FERAL.

Ahh thank you so much, Anon! <3 Of course, feel free to message me about an Idia dakimakura or anything else whenever you want. He is the most perfect fit when it comes to characters to be put on daki, to be honest…

I am also very happy to see you feel that way about the possibility of Edmund as a body pillow hehe I would also love to eat it up both literally and figuratively. This boy is very eatable.

eh-nonnie-mouse asked:

I am sending this ask in super late but your guys piece with mountain Jade killed me. Like seeing the canon art was so cute and handsome and then the groovy had me on my knees clutching my heart and then your interpretation just KO'd me , just like he probably KO'd the poor soul who found him. I could see that one sketch (I think it was you two) where Jade and Rook pass each other in the woods with unidentified long black bags that suspiciously look like people.

But I was revived with the latest cute fucking Octo Trio in Isle of Lamentation and ASFGKJ I am so FERAL for that group of characters. (Not me up here crying in the club at Orthos HUMAN?! cute excited face omg 😭)

Is this Idia's dream and that's why he looks so shocked or is he super concerned because EELS are going to corrupt his baby bro!

Oh and how soft Azul looks at Idia, like they are group of highly disfunctional people who are a little (a lot) crazy for each other in all sorts of ways 🫠 but they are so pretty!!!! and WHY can't Floyd keep his clothes on ahahaha. He's just waltzing around half naked like a gladiator of old and everyone else is dressed appropriately. Orthos excitement over shoes is so cute! Is he looking at Floyd showing off his cool kicks (cause that eel is a certified sneaker head(?) Shoe fanatic?)

And as a last thing. Kalim is like an Asian parent in the way they show their affection through 'You vaguely like something? Here's a lifetime supply because I don't know how else to show my feelings'. Like I know it's just how Kalim is, very open with his affections for Jamil and he probably thinks money and gifts are the best ways to display that. Especially if Kalim can't get as touchy feely and handy as he would like but it just reminded me of that behavior.

No worries, thank you for sending asks!! I am always replying after like 4 months, so “late” doesn’t exist here; time is a flat circle lol

I am very happy you liked that Jade drawing, and YES it was me who drew that doodle of Jade and Rook lol We really love a forest as a creepy setting in general, so I just keep defaulting to something spooky whenever I draw anything related to it. And Jade’s new card was the perfect opportunity!

Jade really is a cryptid from the mountains… And apparently a very charming one 😭

Igni+Octa is such a good combination, I can’t get enough of them! I’m happy you also like them together!! <3 Ortho would always get along with Floyd lol The Tweels are bad influence on him.

It isn’t necessarily Idia’s dream, it’s kind of like an AU? We just wanted to put them in a setting that has vibes similar to Ancient Greece. But you are right: Idia is terrified because while he was talking to Azul, Ortho got completely enamoured by a pair of cool sandals… what else these creeps (fellow shoe fanatics!) are going to give him??

It’s so funny that you noted that Floyd just can’t keep his clothes on, we were wondering the same thing. I drew this sketch a while ago and coloured it the day we posted it, and the entire time I was unsure if I should dress him a little… I guess nah… he really is a gladiator at heart lol

You also completely nailed it about Kalim! I do think that he would love to shower Jamil with gifts, and to him it’s just like little ways to show appreciation and affection… when you are used to your family buying a whole-ass amusement park for one day just because you wanted to hang out there once, getting your beloved Jamil a lifetime supply of chocolate doesn’t feel too crazy at all!

Thank you as always for your kind review of everything that we post <3 I’ll reply to your other ask too!

eh-nonnie-mouse asked:

PEAKED NIPPLE ALERT!

ok sorry sorry but is Deuce going to get stuck again? Because that would be hilarious. Jack can't help himself when his Athletic rival is under him. Do you think they do this frequently? Working out does increase the blood flow and those running outfits are pretttttty tight.

YES!!

Also yes, this is very likely lol It’s a bit difficult to say if it’s them getting too riled up because of them training together, or it’s because Jack would develop a Pavlovian reaction at some point… He sees Deuce in those shorts – things happen :”( <3

Anonymous asked:

If Deuce tugs on Jack's tail, will Jack-

1. Yelp

2. Growl

3. Moan

:3

Anonymous asked:

Hi, I'm the "Deuce pulling on Jack's tail" anon. I forgot to add-

He does it at a random point during the day. Like, just walking behind him and just grabbed it and pulled.

(forgive me for forgetting to add this, I feel bad for sending in two asks for one question....)

I think it depends on what is on Jack’s mind at that time. It’s not entirely impossible for him to produce a sound that is too close to moaning… that would be embarrassing…

But in all honesty, I think he would yelp. Which would also be embarrassing because this is too much of a puppy-like reaction. He isn’t a kid anymore..!

If it’s someone else or Jack doesn’t see it’s Deuce who’s touching his tail, I think he’s going to growl though. The boy’s ready to attack lol

[triptuckers]

Two Homes (part 5/7) - Nikolai Lantsov

Request: no Pairing:  Nikolai Lantsov x reader Summary:  even though you were determined to leave the palace as soon as you could, you now find yourself waking up in a luxurious room of the palace months later  Warnings: angst Word count:  4.7K..... yea A/N: for the sake of this series, nikolai never gave alina the lantsov emerald lol also this turned out longer than I planned it to be but do I regret it? maybe a bit not in the slightest, enjoy reading! :) (also I know I posted part 4 like yesterday but I want this one out there cause a lot happens & I want to post part 6 & 7 so bad) PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART TAG LIST (two homes and/or all grishaverse fics): @godsofwriting@im-constantly-fangirling @ayushmitadutta @mrs-brekker15@dancingwith-sunflowers @thegirlwiththeimpala @parker-natasha @story-scribbler @romanoffstarkovs @daliareads @meiitanoia @itsnotquimey (if your name is in bold it means I couldn't tag you) @sanktaesperanza @whymyparentscheckmyphone @aleksanderwh0r3 @ilovemarvelanne1 add yourself to my tag lists here 

For someone who had dreaded going to Os Alta, you find yourself starting to actually like it. After pulling you aside, out of earshot of your father, Nikolai explained to you why he told your father he’d picked you as his bride.

When he told you it was to ensure he couldn’t control your life any longer, you got confused, asking him why he would do such thing. In response, he recalled the conversation you had at the gardens, when you told him your father had been controlling your entire life, and how people had made decisions for him his entire life as well. 

Nikolai merely said he thought you deserved to make your own choices for once. Even if it meant living at the palace, far away from Ketterdam.

You had agreed to stay at the palace. You knew you couldn’t go back to Ketterdam now. The news of Nikolai picking you as his bride would probably travel faster than you’d like to.

While you did like Nikolai, and you enjoyed the little time you had spent with him, you made it clear you still didn’t want to marry him. That a part of still longed for Ketterdam. 

Nikolai listened to you explaining your choices, and respected them. While both of you knew all eyes would be on you after announcing the engagement, you also knew you couldn’t push it back any further. Not after all the rumours. 

He did agree to wait with picking an actual wedding date, giving you enough time to get used to your new life. You had told him you had no intention of marrying him, but over time you found yourself thinking more and more about it.

You’re amazed by the palace, and the life you live now. Every day, you walk around the palace, finding new routes and rooms. You start to think you might never see all of it in one lifetime. And you visit the gardens as well. 

You keep the yellow flower Nikolai had given you next to the mirror in your room. But you’d never tell him that, he’d tease you endlessly about it. 

As more weeks pass by, you spend more time with Nikolai, as well as his triumvirate. He’d invited you to few of their meetings, telling you if you ever did get married, you’d have to attend them as well. And the sooner you got used to it, the better.

At first, it felt a little weird. You walk around with Nikolai and everyone knows you as his future bride. While it feels odd, Nikolai’s presence is a comforting one. And the more you get to know him, the more you actually start to like him. Maybe staying at the palace wouldn’t be so bad as you thought it would be.

He spends a lot of time getting to know you. You have long conversations about your life in Ketterdam and his time in the army. About both of your dreams for the future, and what you want to achieve. But you also talk about small and simple things such as your favourite dish, or a book you love. 

Most of the talks take place in the gardens or your room. You like getting to know the Nikolai beneath the mantle of king. You start to realise the two of you aren’t so different. If you had been born in a different city, you might have been childhood friends. 

On a particularly sunny spring morning, the two of you walk around the gardens again. Nikolai doesn’t even have to offer his arm to you, you already place your hand on it. After some time, you’ve slipped into an easy morning routine, which sometimes includes a walk through the gardens.

‘How long until the Summers Week blooms again?’ you ask him as you walk past the familiar bush.

Nikolai glances at the same bush. ‘Probably a couple of months.’ he says. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘I think they’re beautiful.’ you as the two of you sit down on the same bench you sat on so many months ago, when you had escaped the ball. ‘It really is a shame they only bloom for such a short period of time.’ 

‘Do you still have that one flower I gave you when we met?’ asks Nikolai.

You glare at him. You just know he’d never let you forget it if he knew you kept it. ‘Yes.’ you say. ‘I wouldn’t throw it away.’

And indeed, a smug look appears on Nikolai’s face. ‘I’m delighted you didn’t throw it away.’ he says. 

You playfully roll your eyes. ‘I expect a new one when they bloom again.’ you say.

‘I’ll make sure to give you one, sweetheart.’ he says with a smile. 

You feel your cheeks heat up at the mention of the nickname. He’d called you nicknames on more than one occasion. You still weren’t used to it. Maybe it had to do something with the fact that Nikolai seems to always look good.

You look at the bush again, getting lost in your thoughts. Nikolai seems to notice. After a while of silence, he speaks up.

‘What’s on your mind?’ he asks you.

You wonder when get got so good at reading your face. ‘I’ve been thinking about, well, all of this.’ you say, gesturing to the gardens and the palace behind you. 

Nikolai turns so he can properly look at you. ‘And?’ he says.

‘I have to admit, life at the grand palace isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. And it has been nice not to have my father following me around all day long. I still miss Ketterdam, but maybe not as much as I used to.’ you say. 

You briefly look at Nikolai and notice a faint smile on his lips as he’s listening to you.

‘Plus, the company isn’t so bad.’ you say. ‘I know I made it clear I didn’t want this. But the time I've spent here has been very nice. Everyone is so kind, and I love the walks around the palace.’

‘What exactly are you saying, Y/N?’ says Nikolai, though the look on his face tells you he already knows. 

You take a deep breath. ‘I’m saying I’m willing to do this. I think I could be happy here. I’m willing to marry you. Even it it’s just for the sake of Ravka. I’d rather marry you than some old merchant back in Kerch.’ you say.

Nikolai smiles. ‘That’s good to hear.’ he says. ‘Was it my dashing smile or charming personality that made you decide to stay?’

‘Don’t get cocky now, Nikolai.’ you chuckle.

‘Sweetheart, have you actually met me? I’ll always be cocky.’ he says. 

You laugh and Nikolai reaches out to take one of your hands in his.

‘But on a more serious note, I really am glad you decided to stay. I didn’t lie when I said you’re nice company.’ he says. ‘And now I can finally give you this.’

He gets something out of his pocket and holds it in his closed fist.

‘Close your eyes.’ he says.

You slightly raise your eyebrows. ‘Really?’ you say. 

‘Really.’ says Nikolai, smirking at you.

You do as he says and close your eyes. You feel how Nikolai lifts your hand and slides something on your finger. You feel the weight of it on your finger and can tell what it is before Nikolai tells you to open your eyes.

A ring with a beautiful green emerald sits on your finger. Your lips part in surprise. He doesn’t even have to say it, you know this ring.

‘This is the Lantsov emerald.’ you say as you look at him.

‘It’s really just an emerald like any others.’ says Nikolai, looking at your hand which is still in his. ‘But that is what most people call it, yes.’

You admire the ring on your finger. ‘It’s beautiful.’ you say. When you look up, you see Nikolai looking at you with an odd expression on his face.

‘What is it?’ you say.

He simply smiles at you and shakes his head. ‘Nothing.’ he says. He gets up and offers you his arm again. ‘Shall we go back to the palace? It’s almost lunch time.’ 

You nod and get up as well but instead of laying your hand on his arm, you grab his hand and intertwine your fingers with his instead. The two of you walk back to the palace, and you try to ignore the way people look at your left hand, clearly eyeing the emerald ring. 

This would be yet another rumour that would spread impossibly fast. You had to write another letter to the Crow Club soon. You’d rather have your friends find out through you, than because of rumours. 

You’d been writing letters to the Crows since you decided you stay at the palace. You told them about your life at the palace, and in return they told you what was going on in Ketterdam. 

You loved receiving letters from them. They each took turns writing you, and all of them signed the letter. 

Once you had lunch, Nikolai got called away to another meeting, and you went to your room to write a letter to Ketterdam. As usual, you started off by asking them how they were doing, if any jobs went wrong, and a new prediction on how many card games Jesper had lost. 

You then wrote about finally accepting the fact you’d marry Nikolai. Despite the chances being low they could attend, you invited them to the wedding anyway. You told them you’d send them a formal invitation with the date as soon as you picked a date. 

And then the chaos started. Genya insisted on being in charge of the planning, and she also sketched you a few designs for your wedding dress. They were all equally stunning, and you couldn’t pick one. Eventually, Nikolai picked the one he thought would suit you best.

Zoya was in charge of putting together the guest list. When she asked you who you wanted to invite, you gave her the names of the Crows. She seemed a bit taken aback you’d invite them because after all, they were criminals. You hadn’t yet told her you’d been part of the Crows for many years as well.

When you looked at the list she was writing, you noticed your father’s name on it as well. He’d sent you many letters, which you ignored. You took the pen from Zoya’s hand and crossed his name off the list without a word. 

Time seemed to fly by at an alarmingly speed. Before you know it, you wake up on the morning of your wedding. Until this day, it seemed like a strange concept somehow. As if you couldn’t fully realise it. 

But when your eyes land on your wedding dress, you feel like for the first time, the realisation of what’s about to happen finally sinks in. You would marry Nikolai. You would take his name and you would become a queen. Of a country that’s not even your own.

A knock on your door catches you off guard and you call for them to come in. Genya enters, followed by a few servants. She’s beaming at you, clearly excited about today.

‘Are you ready?’ she says.

‘More like the most nervous I’ve ever been.’ you say.

Genya smiles at you as she sits down on the bed next to you. ‘I understand you’re nervous.’ she says. ‘But I promise you it’ll be alright. We’ll all be here right beside you. And it’s just one day.’

‘One day of ceremonies and traditions and then I’m a queen.’ you say, having an uneasy feeling in your stomach. 

‘Nikolai will be there by your side. And we will be there as well.’ says Genya. ‘Now let’s get you in that dress.’

She rises to her feet and motions for you to get up as well. You hesitate. 

‘Could you, um, go and get Nikolai?’ you ask her, avoiding her eyes. ‘I want to talk to him.’

‘Of course.’ she says and she immediately leaves the room. You get up and start to pace the room, ignoring the servants who are patiently waiting for you. It doesn’t take long for Genya to return with Nikolai. 

Nikolai smiles at you and asks the servants and Genya to leave the room, which they do. 

By the looks of it, Genya caught him while he was getting dressed. His hair is still messy and his shirt is hastily tucked into his pants. He walks up to you, looking at you.

‘What can I do for you?’ he says. 

‘I’m nervous.’ you say.

‘If it helps, I’m nervous too.’ he says.

‘But you always manage to hide it behind a curtain of flirty comments and confidence.’ you say. ‘I wish I could do that.’

‘Y/N, just because I always know what to say, doesn’t mean I don’t get nervous.’ says Nikolai.

He reaches out to take your hand in his and walks you back to your bed, where you sit down. 

‘Listen, it’s completely normal to be nervous. It’s a big day. A lot of important people are going to be present. But I want you to be okay with this, so do you still want to do this?’ he says.

You look at him and frown. ‘Yes, of course!’ you say. ‘We’re not going to cancel this whole thing because I’m nervous. I just hope I won’t throw up because of the nerves.’

Nikolai chuckles. ‘I’m sure you’ll be fine.’ he says. ‘If it makes you feel better, we could practice.’ 

You frown again. ‘Practice what? I know how weddings work, Nikolai.’ you say. 

‘It wasn’t the entire wedding I was talking about.’ says Nikolai. 

You look at him, waiting for him to continue. He looks at your lips instead. 

‘Oh.’ you say softly. That was what he meant. 

Nikolai slowly inches closer to you, leaning in. His eyes switch from your lips to your eyes, silently asking permission. You give the barest of nods and Nikolai closes the remaining space between you, softly pressing his lips against yours. 

You close your eyes and focus on the feeling of his lips on yours. All of the nerves seem to leave your body as you easy into him. When he pulls away, your faces are still close to each other.

‘Well if that’s what you call practicing, I wonder what the real thing is going to do to top that.’ you say.

Nikolai laughs at your words. ‘You’re getting better at your comebacks with every passing day, sweetheart.’ he says.

‘I learn from the best.’ you say, smiling at him.

‘Are you ready for this?’ says Nikolai.

‘I am now.’ you say with a hint of newfound confidence. 

Nikolai nods and gets up. ‘I’ll call Genya back.’ he says.

You get up as well and walk with him to the door. Before opening it, Nikolai takes your hand in his and presses a kiss to your knuckles. With a wink, he opens the door and steps out into the hallway.

Once Genya and the servants enter, she immediately drags you over and pushes you into a chair to do your hair.

‘You don’t seem nervous anymore.’ she says. 

‘I’m not.’ you say. ‘Nikola and I, uh, talked about it.’ you say, unable to stop your cheeks from turning red. 

Genya smiles knowingly at you. ‘I’m sure it was a good talk then.’ she says, emphasising the word “talk”. 

‘It was.’ you say, avoiding her eyes.

The smile never leaves Genya’s face as she finishes with doing your hair. The servants help you to get in the dress, and you finally look at yourself in the mirror. Genya had really outdone herself with the dress. It looks beautiful on you, as if it was meant to be.

You turn to look at her. ‘Thank you.’ you say. ‘Truly. It’s perfect.’ 

‘Don’t thank me. Nikolai is the one who picked the dress.’ she says. ‘Are you ready to go?’

You take a deep breath and nod. Genya links her arm through yours and you start walking toward the small chapel on the palace grounds. The guests had already arrived and were gathered inside. You can hear them talking and chatting excitedly even outside the chapel.

Genya hugs you tightly and disappears inside the chapel. After a few deep breaths to calm yourself again, you firmly plant your feet on the ground. No going back now. 

The doors to the chapel open and you watch as the guests all rise. A last deep breath, and you start walking. Were there really this many people on the list Zoya had put together?

You start to feel nervous again, but then you see Nikolai looking at you. He’s smiling brightly, and looks very handsome. You remember the feeling of his lips on yours, and find your confidence once more. 

You slowly walk down the aisle, smiling as well, and your eyes are fixed on Nikolai. When you finally make it to the front of the chapel, Nikolai smiles as you stop walking. 

‘Still nervous?’ he whispers softly, so only you can hear it. 

‘Not anymore, thanks to you.’ you whisper back. 

You take a quick look at the crowd. You only recognise the people that lived at the palace as well. Thankfully, you don’t see your father in the crowd. But your heart sinks as you don’t spot your Crows either. They didn’t come. 

You had invited them. Maybe they feared being captured if they risked coming to Os Alta? Whatever their reason was, you’re sure it was a good one. You’d send them a letter after the wedding, asking them if maybe an important job had come up. But still, it hurt a little they wouldn’t attend your wedding. 

The wedding itself seems to last minutes. You’re only focused on Nikolai. He holds your hand and you’re grateful he does. It helps keep you grounded. You had expected the wedding to be grand because after all, it is a royal one. But once you leave the chapel, hand in hand with Nikolai, you realise it turned out to be even better than you expected. 

The two of you are silent as you walk through the halls of the palace. You see the door to your room in the distance, but Nikolai walks right past it. When you raise your eyebrows in question at him, he points at the door to his room in the distance.

‘They’d expect us to share a room. It’d be a bit weird if we got married but sleep in separate rooms.’ he says. ‘Don’t worry, the bed is large enough to fit both of us without having to cuddle close. Not that I would mind if you did.’

You chuckle at his words as he opens the door to his room. You’re thankful to be away from all the guests. You appreciated that they all came to attend the wedding, but you got tired of listening to their congratulations over and over again. 

Once the door closes behind you, you immediately bend down to take off your heels. You watch as Nikolai shrugs off his suit jacket and runs a hand through his hair. 

‘That wasn’t so bad, was it?’ he says. 

‘It wasn’t bad at all.’ you say. 

Nikolai studies your face. ‘But there’s something on your mind.’ he says.

‘I just...’ your voice trails off as you try to find the best way to voice your thoughts. Nikolai takes your hand and pulls you down to sit on the bed with him. 

‘I thought they would come.’ you say softly. ‘I invited them, and I know I haven’t seen them in a while, but I thought they’d at least come to my wedding. I spent years with them.’ 

‘Maybe something else got in the way? Maybe something came up and they simply couldn’t make it?’ suggest Nikolai.

You shake your head. ‘Even if Kaz would plan a job, Jesper and Nina would burn down all of Ketterdam if a job prevented them from attending my wedding.’ you say. ‘I can’t think of a single reason why they wouldn’t come. I thought I meant more to them.’ 

‘What if you write them another letter? I’m sure if you just ask them, they’ll explain why they couldn’t be there.’ says Nikolai.

‘I was going to write them about it anyway.’ you say. ‘But first I want to change. As beautiful as this dress is, it’s incredibly heavy.’

‘I had a servant move some of your belongings here already.’ says Nikolai. ‘A part of the closet is now yours.’

‘Thank you.’ you say and you walk over to the closet, opening it. You pick one of your comfortable dresses and go to the bathroom to change. When you get back, you see Nikolai hasn’t changed yet. You didn't mind. He really looked good in a formal suit. 

You move to sit behind Nikolai’s desk to write a letter to Ketterdam. You try to sound polite, but a part of you wants to just write what you’re actually thinking. But the Crows mean the world to you, and you don’t want to hurt them or piss them off. 

Once you finish the letter, you seal it and hand it to a servant, telling them it’s urgent. 

When you get back to the room, you find Nikolai sitting at his desk, fidgeting with something in his hands. Curiously, you walk over to him. 

‘What are you doing?’ you say.

Nikolai looks up and holds out his hand to you. On his palm is a small boat, made out of a piece of rope. You carefully take it from his hand to examine it.

‘How did you learn how to make this?’ you as him.

He shrugs. ‘A lot of practicing.’ he says. 

You smile and hand the little boat back to him. ‘It’s nice.’ you say. ‘Could you teach me how to make one?’

Nikolai nods and pulls out a second chair for you. He spends the rest of the evening trying to teach you how to make a boat out of a piece of rope. While his fingers move smoothly and create the boats with ease, you struggle with it. After all, he had probably done it for many years, whereas you’re only trying it out for the first time. 

When you successfully finish your first boat, you decide to call it a night and go to sleep. Nikolai hadn’t been lying; the bed was big enough to fit the both of you comfortably without invading each other’s personal space. 

Your usual routines don’t change much. Except for the fact you know share a room and a bed. And you notice there are more lingering glances between the two of you. 

Like Nikolai had said, you’re expected to attend important meetings as well. You try to listen to it, but sometimes the meetings just aren’t interesting in your eyes. Luckily you always sit next to Nikolai, who is able to nudge your leg with his boot if he thinks you’re starting to zone out.

You have breakfast together every morning, expect for the mornings when Nikolai isn’t at the palace. You practice making boats out of rope, and you’re improving. Nikolai’s still turn out better than yours, but you’re getting there.

Every day, you ask if there’s mail for you. But somehow the Crows don’t send letters as frequently as they used to. And they had never given you a proper explanation as to why they didn’t attend your wedding. 

Most of the times when you’re lost in thought, you’re thinking about Ketterdam. You hadn’t been there in months, not since the ball. It’s as if the longer you stay at the palace, the more you miss Ketterdam. 

The city had always felt like home. And no matter how much you like spending time at the palace with Nikolai, you can’t help but to feel guilty for being away from Ketterdam for so long. You miss the city, and you miss your Crows.

Nikolai must have noticed something is bothering you, but you dodge his questions. You try to come up with excuses, but eventually, he pulls you aside and stands in front of the door, preventing you from slipping away.

‘Out with it.’ he says. ‘What is going on?’

You look at him, not sure what to say. 

‘Is it our marriage? Do you regret it? Is that why you’re avoiding talking with me?’ says Nikolai.

‘Of course not!’ you quickly say. ‘Nikolai, I do not regret our marriage. I happen like you a lot.’

‘Then what is it?’ says Nikolai. ‘You’re not yourself and I can tell something is bothering you. Let me help you.’

‘I don’t know where to start.’ you say softly, lowering your head and looking at your feet. It all seemed so childish now. 

‘I miss Ketterdam.’ you say softly. You feel tears burning behind your eyes. ‘I miss the harbour, and the tourists flooding the docks. I miss playing card games with Jesper, and going out with Nina. I miss talking with Inej and going over Kaz’ plans with him. I even miss reading to Wylan and trying to win a drinking contest from Matthias. I miss the Crow Club, and their laughter. I miss all of it.’ 

You see how Nikolai’s feet step closer to you and his hands cup your face, tilting it upward so you look at him. He brushes a tear away with his thumb.

‘It’s alright to miss Ketterdam.’ he says. ‘You left everything behind, I understand it if you miss it. It’s been your home for so long.’

‘But this is my home now.’ you say, your voice trembling slightly. ‘Here in Os Alta, with you. I shouldn’t long to go back to Ketterdam as much as I do.’

Nikolai smiles at you, but there’s a hint of sadness in his eyes. ‘I told you a long time ago I won’t let anyone else control the choices you make in life, sweetheart. If you want to go to Ketterdam, I think you should go.’ he says.

You stare up at him, letting his words sink in. ‘But I’m your wife. You’d let me go just like that?’ you say.

‘You are indeed my wife. But I’m not going to tell you how to live your life. If you think you’re happier in Ketterdam than you are at the palace, then you should go. Go and be happy.’ he says. 

‘But I'm happy with you too.’ you say. ‘I just miss my home, that’s all.’

He smiles again. ‘Then you should go home. This is not goodbye forever, you know.’ he says. 

‘Not goodbye forever.’ you say, repeating his words. 

You stand on your toes and lean up to kiss him. Nikolai pulls you closer and you wrap your arms around his waist in response. When you pull back, he rests his forehead against yours.

‘Go.’ he says softly. ‘Go to your Ketterdam, go to your Crows. I’m sure they’d love to see you again.’

You nod and pull yourself out of his embrace. Nikolai watches you as you quickly pack a bag with some essentials. You can’t bear to look at him again as you walk past him, out of the room.

You didn’t know Nikolai followed you from a distance, to see you off. As soon as you got on a horse and left the gates, he stands at the top of the stairs that lead to the entrance of the palace. 

He watches you as you become a smaller and smaller dot on the horizon. The triumvirate, who had seen the two of you leave, joins him on the steps, wondering what Nikolai is looking at.

‘Was that Y/N? says Zoya. ‘Where is she going?’

‘Back to Ketterdam.’ says Nikolai.

Zoya turns to Nikolai. ‘You let her go?’ she says. ‘Saints, Nikolai, why did you let her go?’

Nikolai doesn’t say anything and continues to look at the horizon. Genya is studying Nikolai’s face as he looks at you in the distance. Her lips part in surprise, but her eyes are sad.

‘Because he loves her.’ says Genya.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

[liquid-luck-00]

Meeting for the First Time

Bio!Dad Bruce

So here is my first contribution to the Bio!Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020, 

Day 1: Meeting for the First Time

@biodad-bruce-month

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Okay granted noting seemed to ever go Marinette’s way. But this was the ultimate punch in the gut the universe could send her.

It started off as a normal Friday, 8 months since the liar came back to school. 8 months since she threatened to pull everyone, she cared about from her and leave her alone. Well 6 month ago Lila’s threat came true. Today she simply walked into class and ignore the cruel stares and watched as feet would pop out to trip her. Well she made it to her desk in one piece and that was a plus.

She was pulling out her tablet and then she heard and felt something slam onto her desk. It was a binder nearly exploding with paper’s and behind it was none other than Alya. “Hey Girl” she started trying to keep her voice friendly, but the repulsion was evident in her voice. “We were wondering if you could do us a favor” she gave Marinette a strained smile and when she didn’t answer continued “Can you help me plan Lila’s sweet 16 as a way to make up for bullying her.”

Marinette was beginning to become livid, her best friend, scratch that her EX- best friend, is asking her to plan a bully’s and a Liar’s party. No, oh Kwamii No she will not be doing that. She was about to say so when Miss Bustier walked in holding several envelopes.

“Please take a seat” Miss Bustier said and that was when Mari moved the binder as far from her as possible. “Today I have the results of the genetic testing we sent a while ago.” Everyone was beginning to murmur excitedly. Mari could only shrink into her seat. She was dreading this for multiple reasons. “Marinette would you please?”

Mari stood up and walked to her teacher took the envelopes and passed them out to the designated person. She kept hers and slipped it into her bag as soon as she got back to her seat.

She knew what it would say. She knew that it would not have what her ‘friends’ would think. It would only prove as Lila would claim that she was not actually wanted and that she was bullying her because she was loved, and Mari wasn’t. Luckily, no one noticed her as they were too excited with their own results. It wasn’t until the lunch bell rang that the dreaded moment came.

“So, Mari what were your results.” Adrien asked, once upon a time she would have gushed at him talking to her but now her crush was nothing but a pile of ashes in the wind.

“I don’t know” She replied as she picked up her bag and began to head out of the class.

“Wait you didn’t look at it” Adrien practically yelled and that got the class’s attention. He was giving her a frown and couldn’t believe that she wouldn’t even look.

“Why would you not look at your result Marinette?” Lila spoke in a sickly-sweet voice. “Are you ashamed that you have someone you want to hide from the class?” everyone began to murmur and was beginning to give her skeptical glares. As if she would attack them, almost no one noticed how Kim and Nino came around to block the door.

Mari was beginning to grow frustrated that they would not let her leave and that they continued to glare at her like a criminal. She had enough. “I WAS ADOPTED!!!” that made everyone go quiet and stared at her. “I was adopted when I was a couple of moths old and I have NO intention on knowing my biological family” she turned, and Nino and Kim were shocked that she simply slipped passed them and went home.

However, she knew who her biological father was. Well that isn’t the entire truth, she found out she was adopted when she was 10 years old. Her Biological father reached out stating he didn’t know until recently that he had a child. He wanted to get to know her and be a part of her life. However, Mari was stubborn, Tom and Sabine were her parents, so she told him she didn’t want to meet. Surprise though he was stubborn as well, he gave Mari his number and to call or message him even if it were to complain about him or anything at all. This had surprised her, and she did. She texted her father with things she didn’t feel she could tell her parents.

For the past 5 years she had told him about school, or mistakes she had made, and about her passion in fashion. He always seemed to listen and just let her rant. It was good for her. When she became ladybug, she was excited to tell him about the heroes of Paris. He sometimes never answered but she saw that he read them and that was comforting.

He became someone outside of Paris who helped anchor her. He would send her gifts for her birthday and messaged her when he could, and he really did help her though most of what was going on at school. She only knew him as Father, no name attached and that was fine. That was why she didn’t want to open the letter. She didn’t want a name to the person who cares for her as Marinette.

She went to the bakery and climbed the stairs knowing that it would be quiet. Her parents were taking a trip abroad for their anniversary along with her Nonna and that left her alone. “Tikki?” the little goddess floated up to her. “Should… should I… should I look at the names?” Mari wasn’t sure if she ever wanted to know but she also knew that she possibly would like to know.

“Mari the choice is yours but know that no one not even your father will think less of you if you never want to know.” Tikki really is always sure and can always make her feel better. Mari simply nodded went to get something to eat and stared at the letter she pulled out. As she finished her lunch and washed her plate, she turned to the letter with determination she opened it and read. Her Mother was blank, meaning that she probably hasn’t put her information on any site, but does say that she is of European decent. Then she looked at her father, he had a photo, black hair, and the same bluebell eyes. He was dressed in a suit and she looked at the name, Bruce Wayne. Next to her own photo was the photo of boy with tanned skin, black hair, and emerald green eyes, the name next to it was Damian Wayne. So, she had a brother, he looked close to her age, maybe he was the reason why her father contacted her years ago. Her father was also from European decent but that was about it. She’ll look into it more after school she dropped the envelope off in her room and left to go back.

She went back to class and sat in her seat before the bell rang so she was the first person back into the classroom. She kept her head down and didn’t look up from the sketch she was working on, she heard the whispers and caught a few glances at her, but she ignored them.

“Mari?” oh Kwamii why does he have to talk now again. She looked up and his expression softened into a small smile or more like a frown. “Do you…” he rubbed his neck. At this point everyone was staring between the two completely silent. “Do you want to talk about it?”

At this she scoffed “Why?” she was confused at this they wouldn’t talk to her unless it was to yell at her so why should she be vulnerable for them.

Alix spoke up “Why do you bother asking her anyways Adrien?” she snarked throwing Mari a glare. Adrien looked sheepish, and that was when Lila struck.

“Well if she puts it out in the open, she wouldn’t bully me, since we can help her. Make her feel loved since her parents didn’t want her” she spoke calmly and sweetly, and everyone nodded and agreed.

“Tell us Mari, you can trust us girl” Alya spoke from the class.

“Now why...” Mari was cut off as Miss Bustier entered to start the class. However, not even 10 minutes into the class the door opened. A man in a suit holding a folder came into the room.

“Miss Bustier” he asked, and the teacher nodded, so he continued. “I am sorry to disturb the class, but I need to speak with Miss Dupain-Cheng”

The teacher nodded and called “Marinette” gesturing towards the door. But of course, nothing was ever simple in this class.

“Sir if you need Marinette then you should also take Lila” Alya spoke up.

The man simply looked confused, “Why would I do that?”

“Marinette is bullying Lila so if you need Mari you need Lila as well” she huffed proud of her logic.

“I am sorry, but I really only need Miss Dupain-Cheng”

“Well whatever you need to say to her you can tell all of us”

Now the man looked exasperated and he turned towards the teacher. She nodded “It is for the best whatever you need to tell Marinette you can tell the class.” She stated.

He huffed and walked up the stairs to Marinette. “I am so very sorry for your loss Miss Dupain-Cheng. If you would please come with me, you are needed to verify the bodies.” This left the class in a quiet shock. They couldn’t believe what they just heard. Mari was wide eyed filled with tears ready to fall and was numb. She didn’t hear when everyone began to speak at once demanding answers of the man. And now Mari could tell he was mad. “Really I do not need to answer your questions as this matter only pertains to Miss Dupain-Cheng, this should have been done in private, so you” he pointed at Miss Bustier “will most likely be getting a call as soon as I will report this.” This shut up the class and he helped her up and walked her out.

Identifying the bodies was a blur in her mind, she was told they died as a riot stormed the airport on their way home. She was asked if she had anywhere to go “can you please give me a moment?” she spoke weakly and the woman who was in charge of her smiled and left her in the room. Thank the Kwamii that Hawkmoth had been inactive lately, so she was able to cry and mourn. She needed to tell someone anyone, but those she loved were gone and now what was she going to do. Tikki popped her head out of the bag and patted her leg. That was when she saw her phone, she picked it up and scrolled through her contacts. She got to the name Bio! Dad and pressed the call.

It rang a few times before he picked up. “Marinette is everything okay you don’t usually call?” she started to cry, and this put worry into his voice. “Mari sweetie what’s wrong. Deep breaths with me 1 in, hold 2, out 3. Again.” He repeated this until she was no longer gasping for breath.

“Maman, Papa, and Nonna died” she couldn’t keep strong anymore “please, please don’t leave me too.”

“I won’t Mari” his voice was the softest she had ever heard from him “I’ll be on the first plane over. I won’t leave you I promise” he hung up and she was finally starting to feel lighter. The woman from before came back.

“Are you okay sweetie?” she gave her a smile.

“I think I will be?” she gave a small smile.

“That call must have helped” Mari nodded in acceptance to the statement. “Who was it?”

“My Father, he is coming for me” the woman looked at her as if she grew another head. “My biological father. My maman, papa, and nonna that died were my adoptive family.” At that the woman gave her a sympathetic smile and a hug. “they were my family but…”

“Sweetie you don’t have to always be strong its okay to be sad.” She began to cry again. She was dropped off at the bakery by Officer Raincomprix, who gave her a sad smile and then left. Mari fell asleep in her parents’ room, Tikki curled up next to her.

She woke up the next morning and opened the Bakery, allowed in the staff, and went back to the apartment. Afterwards she went back up and curled up in her parents’ bed, but a notification on her phone made her stir again.

Bio!Dad: I’m in Paris where do you want me to meet you Mari?

Mari: The Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie

Bio!Dad: I’ll be there soon I promise.

Not long after a staff member knocked on the door, she recognized the voice. “Someone is here to see you”

“Mari can I come in?” she heard Bruce and that prompted her to open the door. She didn’t care that she looked like a mess, as soon as the door opened, she hugged him and started to cry for what felt like the hundredth time in the past 24 hrs. He murmured reassurances to her and led her to the couch.

---

If anyone had told him that he was going to rush onto a plane because of the daughter he has never met in person called him crying, he would not have given you any kind of reaction. But here he is on a jet headed to Paris to meet and comfort his daughter, after her parent’s death. Yikes that is a lot to handle.

The only positive to all this is that he left discreetly enough that he wasn’t tailed by the boys. And that was a relief, if Mari had to meet him for the first time that alone was one thing but meeting Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian would probably send the child over the edge. That is considering the fact that she actually deals with and processes emotions like a human and not like a bat.

He hadn’t even finished checking into his hotel and he was restless he knew that Mari needed him and if Bruce was anything, he was overprotective of his family. And right now, one of his family was hurt and he had to do something. He texted her and she told him to go to a bakery.

Well if she said to go to a Bakery then he went to a Bakery. He stepped in and looked around before going up to the counter.

“Excuse me Miss?” he stated towards a Girl no older than Twenty behind the counter placing pastries into the case.

“Hello, how can I assist you today?” she smiled.

“I am here to speak with Marinette.”

“Ah. Your first time here right.” He nodded his head. “That girl always forgets. Follow me” he was confused but followed the young woman through the kitchen and to a small hallway and up a flight of stairs. Where she knocked on a door. There was shuffling on the other side “Someone is here to see you” she plainly stated, and footsteps were heard near the door but just shy of opening it.

“Mari can I come in?” his question was tentative but even he was surprised by the softness of his voice.

The door swung open and there she stood. Oh, she was adorable. Her black hair was in a messy bun and had blue highlights that emphasized her bluebell eyes, which were red and puffy from her crying. She fell into him into a hug and she was so small, he had to protect her from everything. The worker left and he moved the two of them to the couch.

After a couple of hours, he got the full story and to say he was pissed was an understatement. First there was the teacher and how they had handled the situation was awful, but besides that he wanted Mari safe, but he had to know what she wanted instead of making the decisions for her. He learned the hard way with his boys.

Next

[paper-n-ashes]

The Late Shift

Characters: Paul Sevier x Female Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings/Tags: There’s actually none (I hope). I know. I’m surprised too.

Authors Note: This is so dumb. I’m aware. Look, I’ve been dealing with a horrendous writers block and shattered confidence and I made Paul Sevier gifs to ease my pain. It turned into this. I just wanted to try something a little cute and fluffy to get back into the swing of things. So... here it is.

*

It was going to be a long night.

Stuck on the Wednesday evening shift for the third time this month, you mindlessly fiddled with the pen in your hand. Twirling it between your fingers, your mind drifted away from the present moment, wondering why your boss seemed to dislike you so much to keep you here past 6pm in the middle of the week. He’d always been adamant this was prime selling time for this boutique suit store, with corporate clients needing to do their shopping outside of normal business hours.

You, however, knew keeping this place open was senseless, barely seeing more than a few unenthusiastic customers in these agonizingly slow stretches. Working on commission also made you all the more bitter about being paid minimum wage to stand behind a counter and doodle sketches of imaginary clients dressed in the outfits you personally tailored. This isn’t where you thought a Bachelor of Arts in Fashion Design would take you, that’s for sure.

“H-hello,” you heard a deep voice quietly greet you, startling you into focus. “Are you busy? I… think I need a little help.”

Eyes flickering up from the notepad, you were sure your pupils blew wide at the sight of the man in front of you. Standing at an imposingly large height, his hair a severely murky shade of black, with honeyed irises shining brightly behind delicate spectacles.

A human personification of tall, dark and handsome. Well, except for the clothes.

The stranger wore the layered combination of a grey tweed jacket and argyle patterned sweater, arranged over a particularly heinous, mustard-coloured button up. While the ensemble made you internally cringe, it gave him an air of intelligence, like the kind that hangs around stuffy, old college professors who have more academic accolades than you have fingers and toes.

“Me?” you coughed out, knowing full well you were the only other person in this tiny little shop. “Uh, yeah. I mean- No, no I’m not busy. What is it you need help with?” Even when you stood, the man towered above you, making you silently begin to calculate the high-numbered measurements you’d need to fit him in something.

“I have an important meeting scheduled for Friday. You know, the type you need to wear a suit to?” Evidently the thought of it made him nervous, as you noticed his cheek twitch slightly, his eyes scanning momentarily at the garments filling the space. “I’m… uh… not so great with clothes.”

Clearly, you chuckled inside your head, holding the word from your tongue. “You want me to pick out something for you?”

He took a defeated breath, his mouth twisting into an awkward yet wonderfully endearing smile. “Would you mind? Only if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble!” you burst, maybe a little too excitedly. “It’s my job!” Bounding out from behind the counter you’d been imprisoned by, you moved directly to the section of classic navy business suits. Slim line. Something to accentuate his well-built frame, rather than hide it away. You had to pause, swivelling back around to the dumbfounded man. “Is price an issue… uh…?”

“Paul,” he answered for you, slowly moving to where you stood. “And… I suppose not. Probably should spend the money on something that will last. If you think it’s a good idea.”

Oh thank god, you mused without showing the relief on your face. He’s not some rich asshole trying to flash his cash. “A good suit can last you five years, if you treat it right.” Your hand reached over to graze one of the deepened blue sleeves of a jacket at your left. “And a classic colour will never go out of style.”

Paul let out an embarrassed chuckle. “I think you’ve already noticed how lacking in style I am…” He glanced to your nametag, murmuring your name with a goofy smirk curling his lips. You’d never seen a grown man, especially not one of this stature, appear so adorable. It was horribly distracting.

“I’m sure you have expertise in other areas,” you stumbled, realizing only when the words came out how offensive they might seem. Yet Paul conceded to your comment, his rumbling laugh making your chest feel tight.

“Debatable,” he shrugged. “I’m just glad I found some qualified personnel to help me in this instance.”

Oh boy. Humble and charming? You were in so much trouble. Surely someone as sweet as this had another waiting for them at home. “I’m sure your partner could help you pick out something nice too.”

“Not an option in my case.”

Shit. Single too. You were truly fucked.

You turned, trying to calm your erratic heartbeat by focusing on finding an outfit that would contain his longer limbs. Plucking out a matching jacket and trouser set, with an ivory, collared button-up, you offered them to Paul, his features having melted into a sweetened look of intrigue. “Go and try these on. There’s a changeroom just behind the counter. See how they feel, and we can go from there.”

He nodded, taking the pieces with both of his large hands and shuffling away to where you’d pointed to. No sooner than the latch had locked were you dashing to where your phone was sitting at the register, flitting out a rushed text message to your favourite co-worker.

There was rustling you heard emanating from the changeroom stall, doing your best to ignore the urge of picturing Paul, a man you’d met only minutes ago, gradually slipping off his clothes to reveal the toned muscles underneath. You grimaced at yourself, shaking your head to banish the imaginations. God this was unprofessional.

Finally, a response lit up on your phone screen.

You laughed softly through your nose, about to type a reply when you heard the lock click open again. The breath in your lungs was stuck as Paul made his way out, the expensive textiles draping over his burly frame in a way that made your whole body tense.

He rustled a hand through his hair, looking up to you while fidgeting with the starchy material stretched over his chest. “Does it look okay?”

After all these years working this job, the enticing novelty of attractive men in well-fitted suits had slowly worn off, especially when most of them treated you with about as much respect as the used gum they spit out onto the sidewalk. Suddenly, all those preconceived notions were gone. On Paul, this ensemble instantly became the most captivating thing in the entire universe.

The inside of your mouth flooded with saliva, having to swallow hard before speaking again. “Great… it looks… great.” You did your best to conceal a settling exhale. “What do you think? How does it feel?”

Paul shifted to look at his reflection in the mirror, pupils trailing up and down, flexing his limbs in an attempt to get a proper impression of the new apparel. “It feels really good. Makes me look… sophisticated.” He turned to you, his expression unsure. “Right?”

Your smile was sparkling, nodding to his question. There was a small amount of work to do, noting how in your effort to make sure everything complemented his physique, you’d oversized him. The waistline of the jacket needed to be taken in, the shoulder lines sitting slightly off, and the trouser length needing to be taken up slightly. “A couple of adjustments and it’ll be perfect.”

“You mean taking it to be tailored?”

“No need.” You pulled out the wheel of berry pins from your pocket, kneeling down on the floor next to Paul’s feet. “All our tailoring is included in the price. Done completely in house.” You began to fold the bottom edge of his pants, pinning it to an adequate length. “I can have it ready for you tomorrow, all ready for your Friday meeting.”

“You do all the tailoring yourself?” Paul asked as you slinked another pin through the fabric.

“Sure do,” you chirped, moving onto the other leg. “3 years at a design school taught me a few things about cutting and sewing.” With the hemlines in place, you straightened in front of him, plucking out a roll of measuring tape from your other pocket. “I just… need to take a few measurements to properly alter the jacket.”

His cheek twitched, the line of his jaw seeming somewhat strained. “Sure. F-fine. Do what you gotta do."

You went with determining his arm length first, feeling out the boney point of his shoulder and striping the lined tape all the way down to his wrist. Then, after taking a deep inhale, you curled your arms around his hips, focusing hard on the little black numbers to ignore the fact Paul’s breath had started to skate over your skin with this close proximity. It was when you were lining up the thickened stripes indicating his chest circumference that you made the mistake of peering up, finding his alluring stare fully concentrated on you.

There was a moment. A spark to waiting kindling. Where impulse could have led you to do a dangerous thing. You’d never been the hasty type, never acted without considerable thought. Usually so shy and composed, never making the first move. Although right now, you could scarcely hold yourself back, desperate to know the sensation of Paul’s lips, how they’d move over yours, what they tasted like.

No. This was so inappropriate.

The compulsion was about to wither away when you felt a hand skim up your waist, the lightened touch shooting a thrill over your skin.

“Excuse me,” a gruff voice called from your side. “How much are these dress socks?”

You immediately stepped back, smacked into reality again. “$12.99. Exactly what it says on the box.”

The older gentlemen scrutinized the packaging, lids narrowed until he finally saw the numbers plastered at the border. “Oh, right. Eh, a little expensive for my taste. Thanks anyway.”

Flustered, you began to coil the measuring tape into its resting spiral, forcefully glaring at the floor. “I’m all done. You can get dressed into your own clothes now.”

In your periphery you saw Paul regarding you with a gentle nod, walking back into the changeroom without another word. Every part of you wanted to sink beneath the wooden floorboards, so horrendously embarrassed you could feel a smoldering heat prickle at your cheeks. Only to relieve some of the nervous energy, you ran to your phone.

Again, Paul was exiting out of the stall just as you were going to submit your reply, placing the neatly arranged garments over the counter. It was difficult to look directly at him, having to summon all remaining shards of your courage to drift your eyes up to his face. “Was there anything else you needed?”

His mouth parted, only to quickly snap shut, scratching at his hairline in the seconds it took for him to give you a response. “No. Nothing else. Unless there’s something more you think I need.”

You shook your head, wishing you could give another answer just to keep him here. “You’re all set.” The full price of his items flashed on the monitor in front of you, spouting it to him as your fingers flicked across the keyboard to finalize the purchase, with a personal discount that wouldn’t show on the receipt.

“When should I come by to pick it up?” he queried, passing you his credit card. “Oh, but there’s no pressure. Whenever you have the time is just fine.”

An idea flared. “If you give me your number, I can text you when it’s ready.”

“That works for me.”

Erasing all evidence of the conversation you’d been having, you brought up the number pad, handing your phone over. Paul swiftly typed in his details before placing it back in your palm. ‘Paul the Suit Guy’ the contact read, unable to stifle your laugh.  

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” His eager expression made your heart quiver through a beat.

“Y-yeah,” you stammered. “I’ll see you then.”

Paul waved his hand in an awkward flourish to signal his goodbye, eventually moving far enough from your vision for you to finally take a full, relaxed breath. In a dazed hurry, you keyed in your returning message to your co-worker.

It was the precise moment your thumb had pressed into the ‘Send’ button that you realised your recipient wasn’t the one you’d intended.

You’d sent this message straight to Paul.

Fuck. Oh fuck. This was bad.

While you were scrambling to formulate a believable excuse, a new message popped up onto the screen.

Tags for my lovelies who might tolerate this nonsense: @tlcwrites @roanniom @princessxkenobi @hopeamarsu @blowthatpieceofjunk @mariesackler @leatherboundriot @foxilayde @modernpaw @cornmousequeen @direnightshade @safarigirlsp @blackberries45 @mylifeisactuallyamess @caillea @jynzandtonic @beskarbabs​

[jerryb2]

A couple months ago now, I picked up this book at a local Half-Price Books. As you can of course see, it’s the Star Wars art portfolio of Dave Dorman. As I (then, erroneously) made reference to in a recent post, Dorman was a prolific watercolor artist for Star Wars media back in the 1990′s. 

This book, published in 1996, showcases his art up to that point in his career. Some of his most well-known art can be found in the Dark Empire comic:

This book is really interesting, not least because it shows some of Dorman’s rough sketches & layouts, but also a few of the body models that he employed. 

Look at this guy: 🤭

Dorman also did a number of the single-issue covers for the Tales of the Jedi comic series by Tom Veitch & Kevin J. Anderson. Though unfortunately, if you happen to own the trade paperbacks of Tales, you really don’t see very much of it, save for a brief cover gallery at the end. However, the most easily recognizable piece of art from this series is undoubtedly this painting of Ulic Qel-Droma: 

And just a side note here; this art also went on to be featured as the cover of the Tales of the Jedi Companion in the old Star Wars RPG from West End Games:

Weirdly, the same day that I found this book showcasing Dorman’s art, I found these at another HPB: full cast audio dramas of both Dark Empire & Tales of the Jedi on cassette tapes, all of them featuring this exact cover art. 😵 

Now, the more eagle-eyed among you have probably picked up on the fact that there are several things missing here. For one, there’s no Empire’s End. That’s not due to HPB not having that one on the shelf or me not being able to find it, that’s just because it doesn’t exist*. 😐 The same goes for the rest of Tales of the Jedi, though it’s a bit more forgivable there, since these were released back in 1995 and the story didn’t, for reals, conclude until 1999.

*Okay, technically the audio drama of Empire’s End does exist, but it’s only available in the CD special edition re-release of the audio drama - are you kidding me? 😑 

And to boot, in classic Star Wars in the 90′s fashion, both of these stories have been abridged to absolute shit. 😩  But I digress....

When I found these, they were all still factory sealed, so I had the distinct pleasure of popping them open for the first time in 26 years. That was really wonderful. 🙂 Look, I’ll probably never listen to these, and probably not for the reason you think. Believe it or not, I do have a working cassette player, but I just can’t say that I care all that much. They’re an oddity, and a really neat piece of Star Wars history, but for now, I think they’ll just live on my bookshelf.

Since finding this artbook, I’ve really gained a ton of respect and admiration for Dave Dorman as an artist, and as a Star Wars fan. And this is just scratching the surface; he did the covers for the Rogue Squadron comic series by Michael A. Stackpole, as well as the Dark Forces: Jedi Knight game tie-in (which isn’t mentioned in this book, since it only came out 1998!) and the covers for all of the Young Jedi Knights books. 

The man is a true legend, and his art has served to take readers to that galaxy far, far away for decades now. ❤

Next up in the art-appreciation posts: Drew Struzan 😉

[mintaka14]

This is the start of my newest multi-chapter Lukanette story, and a Dammit Quick! fic. To the LBSC crowd - you’re all a pack of enablers, so have some Disney music-nerd angst/fluff with a Julerose wedding for good measure.

See the Light

A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction

By Mintaka14

Chapter One – All Those Years

 Luka Couffaine got the shock of his life when, six months before his sister’s wedding, his past walked onto the boat. She moved with an assurance that she’d never had at fourteen. A little older at twenty-four, a little less arms-and-legs and a little more rounded curves, but still with those same devastating blue eyes.

Her hand curled on the rail, and he realised he was staring.

“Luka,” she said. “Hi.”

“Ma-ma-marinette,” he managed, and that mouth of hers lifted in a tentative smile. “It’s been a while.”

“It’s been a while,” she agreed softly. “How are you?”

He said something, he wasn’t sure what.

“I take it Juleka didn’t mention that I was coming,” she said. “I’ve offered to design the dresses for the wedding, and she suggested I come round today to talk about them. Are you… is it okay that I’m here?”

At that, Luka jolted out of his distraction and offered her a more genuine smile.

“Marinette, it’s more than okay. It’s good to see you again. You’re looking well.”

Her own smile grew a little brighter, and she flicked a quick glance down and back up to meet his eyes again. “So are you.”

“Marinette! You made it!” Rose’s shriek cut off any response he might have made. Rose barrelled up the steps from the galley and past him to engulf Marinette in a tight hug, with Juleka not far behind. Luka had a moment to collect himself while they caught up. All in all, he thought he’d handled it pretty well. He hadn’t actually swallowed his tongue.

Marinette flashed a brief, rueful smile at him over her shoulder as Rose towed her below deck, leaving Luka to pull his scattered thoughts together. He hadn’t seen her in ten years and she could still bowl him over at first sight. He turned absently to the stack of papers he’d been working on when she arrived, barely seeing them.

He hadn’t made much progress half an hour later, and gave up, heading down to the galley. A burst of laughter drew his attention and in the other room he could see Marinette wielding a tape measure around his sister with brisk efficiency, while Rose sat on the table, swinging her legs as she flicked through a plain black sketchbook. He’d seen plenty of the same type of book back when he’d been spending a lot of time with Marinette all those years ago. He leaned in the doorway, unnoticed, watching Marinette at work.

It had always been hard to define exactly what made Marinette so overwhelming whenever he saw her. Maybe it was the sense of intensity and creative fire, as if her skin could barely contain everything that she was, or the fierce, giving heart that shone within her. Maybe it was the endless blue of her eyes that spoke to him of a limitless horizon. It seemed like none of that had changed.

What had changed was the dizzying rush he felt as she bent to pick up something and he found himself following the tight curve of her jeans and the contour of her strong, lean legs. He jerked his wayward gaze away, trying to fight down the heat in his cheeks and the fleeting speculation about what it might be like to have those legs wrapped around him, and those beautiful eyes of hers on him while he … God, Couffaine, get your mind out of the gutter! It had been ten years since he’d last seen her, and these were not appropriate thoughts to be having barely thirty minutes and less than a handful of words of conversation after she’d turned up in his life again.

She had always been a pretty girl, but that was nothing to the gorgeous woman she’d grown into.

He would have bet money that the jeans hugging those legs like a second skin were her own design, and the silky red shirt sliding artfully off one shoulder but never quite falling looked like it had come straight from the fashion week runway. The way Marinette filled it, though, was far more distracting than any model could have ever made it.

The pigtails were another thing that was gone, but he didn’t spare them more than a moment of nostalgia, because the blue-black satin of her hair was caught up in a knot that left the smooth line of her neck bare, and that was a whole other train of thought that he cut off quickly. He looked up to find that she was watching him with a quizzical expression, and he managed to answer it with a smile of his own before Rose noticed him standing there.

“Luka!” she called out. “You have got to see what Marinette’s come up with for us!”

She was practically bouncing, and shoved the sketchbook at him. He looked at Marinette, one eyebrow raised in a question, before he opened it.

“If Marinette’s okay with that,” he said. Marinette’s mouth lifted in a smile at that.

“Marinette’s okay with that,” she told him, and he opened the cover. The slim book was full of designs and scribbled ideas and notes on wedding dresses. He’d seen her fourteen year old designs, and been impressed by them, but this… this was a whole other level, which, he supposed, wasn’t surprising. He turned through the pages slowly. He paused on one that was clearly meant for Juleka.

“Wow,” he said softly.

“That’s one of my favourites, too,” Marinette said. She’d come to look over his shoulder, and he was finding that rather unsettling for some reason. “Juleka’s so elegant, she could wear just about anything, but I like that structure for her.”

“It feels like her.” He glanced up at Marinette. “Dangerous edges, with just a bit of sweetness underneath.”

Marinette turned another few pages, and waited for Luka to find it.

“Rose,” he grinned back at her. “Channelling her inner Disney princess?”

“The brief was Sleeping Beauty, live action, but more -” Marinette gestured extravagantly, opening her eyes wide, and from the table where she was perched, Rose stuck out her tongue at them.

“It’s my wedding, and I’ll princess if I want to,” Rose sniffed.

Luka glanced back at the sketch, and was impressed all over again. Marinette had somehow turned flowers and glitter and pink and Rose into a few lines of charcoal and caught it on the page. Her own special brand of magic.

On the other side of the room, Juleka looked up from her phone.

“I’ve just ordered takeaway, and Ivan and Mylène are on their way,” she told them, and levelled a look at Marinette. “You are staying, aren’t you?”

By the time Marinette had been talked into it, and Ivan and Mylène had turned up in a bustle of exclamations and hugs and chatter, Luka had recovered something of his equilibrium. As darkness fell over the river and the lights strung up across the boat spilled a soft light over the deck, Luka handed Marinette a glass of wine and settled into the deck chair beside her.

“You’re wearing a tie these days,” she said with a hint of mischief, and he glanced down at the shirt he’d rolled up over his tattooed forearms and the tie he’d forgotten he was still wearing. “I never pictured you in the kind of career that would need a tie.”

He pulled himself together enough to smile easily back at her. “Well, it’s been a while. A few things have changed. I see you’re not wearing those pigtails anymore,” he teased her, and her hand went to the soft satin twist of her hair.

“No.” Marinette leaned back in the chair, her wine glass in hand, and her eyes were on Rose and Ivan arguing amicably about something. There was an indefinable sense of distance in her that had never been there when they were kids, and he wondered what had happened to put that there.

“So when did you get back in touch with Jules? She didn’t mention that she’d seen you.”

“I was showing a couple of pieces at something Juleka was modelling at a while ago. We bumped into each other backstage, and when she mentioned that she and Rose were getting married I offered to make up the dresses for them. My wedding present to them,” she said with a self-conscious smile, and Luka couldn’t help a soft laugh.

“Only you would do that for someone you haven’t seen in years.”

“They’re still friends.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Like you wouldn’t do the same.”

Rose was standing on a stack of crates now, singing something about rainbows, while Juleka hooked an arm around her to keep her from overbalancing and Mylène snorted with laughter. Marinette looked over at them a little wistfully.

“It’s nice to be back in touch with the old Kitty Section crew,” she admitted. “It was nice to reconnect with Juleka… and you. I’ve missed that.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Luka said quietly. “Do you see much of the old school crowd?”

Marinette shrugged. “Not really. I run into Adrien from time to time. I see him at the fashion shows sometimes, but honestly, once we get past the awkward reminiscing about collège, and industry stuff, we don’t really have a whole lot to talk about these days. I’ve sort of lost touch with everyone else.”

“How about Alya?” he asked. Luka had never really warmed to the brash journalist-in-the-making, with all her Adrien-schemes, but she’d been best friends with Marinette back in the day.

“No.” The one word was oddly expressionless. “I haven’t see her in a few years.”

There was a heartbeat when he thought she was going to say something else, then those lashes of hers dropped. Instead, when she looked up again there was that mischievous spark in her eyes again, and she said, “So what convinced you to put on a tie? Although I notice you didn’t get rid of your blue hair.” Was that an approving note in her voice? He ran his hand a little self-consciously through the longer, teal-tipped sweep of his dark hair, rubbing at the shorter hairs at the back of his neck. “What are you doing these days?”

“Playing the occasional gig whenever I get the chance, selling my music from time to time, teaching…”

“Teaching?”

He named the lycèe.

“Lucky students.” Marinette tilted her head to regard him speculatively, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “I’m having a hard time seeing you as M. Couffaine, though.”

“Just Luka. I’m the cool teacher that half the faculty hates because I undermine authority.”

“And the other half madly crush on,” Marinette suggested, and Luka felt himself flush. She could still throw him off-balance, all these years later, although it was in a different way now. The fourteen year old Marinette he remembered would never have been able to say something like that without self-combusting, but here she was, watching him with that mischievous glint in her beautiful blue eyes, and it was just another reminder that things had changed.

“What about you?” he deflected. He gestured at the sketchbook she’d left on a nearby table with her handbag. “Following the dream?”

She gave a wry little smile. “Oh, I got through my degree in fashion design somehow, and I’ve been running a bespoke atelier out of my bedroom. It’s not huge, but it pays the bills, and at least it gives me a certain amount of … flexibility.” Luka couldn’t understand the slight twist of her mouth at the word, but she had it smoothed out before he could be sure he’d really seen it. “And Ja… a few high profile people have been very kind and sent work my way.”

Luka felt certain he knew who the celebrity had been. For that alone, he could forgive his father a lot. There was a long silence while Marinette contemplated her empty wine glass, then she met his eyes.

“You have no idea how sorry I am that I broke up with you like that, right when you were going through everything with... I just made everything worse, and it wasn’t fair on you. I never really found a way to tell you that I was sorry for everything.”

“Marinette, no!” Luka straightened in his deckchair, a faint frown crossing his face. “We were kids. I’ve always felt badly that I put you under more pressure when you were clearly having a hard time with something.”

“There was a fair bit of that going around,” she conceded, and let out a shuddering breath that he didn’t realise she’d been holding. “But you have nothing to apologise for, you had every right to be upset about how I treated you. I regret a lot of things about back then.”

“I don’t regret that we tried,” Luka said with unintentional intensity, and Marinette’s eyes widened a little. “But I do regret that I lost you out of my life altogether. You always had the most fascinating way of seeing things, and I missed just hanging out and talking to you.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me after all that. And I thought it was saf -“ she cut herself off abruptly, changing what she’d been going to say, “- better if I stayed away.”

He shook his head, but didn’t say anything in response.

She gave him a sidelong look. “I never really got the chance to ask you, did you… how did things go with Jagged in the end? Do you talk to him?”

Luka’s expression turned wry. “It’s complicated. It’s always complicated with Jagged, but we talk a bit. He’s going to be there for the wedding. Not sure how that’s going to go.”

Marinette made a sympathetic noise. He thought for a moment that she was going to ask him for the details, but instead, with another swift, perceptive glance from those blue eyes of hers, she changed the subject.

“So what’s teaching like, M. Couffaine?” she asked lightly, and he settled back to tell her some of his stories, enjoying the ripple of laughter he drew from her over his students’ antics, and the chuckles she surprised out of him with her own tales about clients and their most outrageous demands. He had no idea how late it had grown when the conversation was interrupted by a chorus of phones chiming all at once from various corners of the Liberty. Ivan was the first to reach his.

“Akuma alert,” he sighed. “Aw, man, they’ve shut down septième. Traffic getting home is going to be hell.”

“What’s the bet that it’s the Eiffel Tower again?” Juleka muttered.

Mylène was shaking her head. “Hawkmoth, and now Swallowtail, and there was that weird thing with the rats a few years ago, and the government keeps pretending that there’s nothing they can do as long as they can just dump it all on Ladybug and Chat Noir to deal with the problem. We’re still working on getting subsidies for mental health therapies, but they keep stonewalling us.”

Marinette was getting to her feet.

“I really should go,” she said reluctantly, and Luka stood as she gathered up her bag and sketchbook. “It was… really nice to catch up again, Luka. It’s been far too long.”

“Oh, but you’ll be back again soon, right?” Rose cut in before Luka could say anything. “There’ll be fittings for the wedding dresses, and we’re not letting you lose contact again like that. We’ve missed you, right, Luka?”

Luka ignored Rose’s unsubtle nudge, and Marinette said her goodbyes to the rest of their friends.

“It’s good to see you again, Marinette,” he told her, and accepted the light bise she brushed against his cheek. He caught a hint of vanilla and sugar as she leaned in, and oh hell, it suddenly hit him why the smell of cookies had always left him with a faint and peculiar sense of homesickness when his mother had never baked a cookie in her life. He closed his eyes briefly, and let Marinette go before he could do something stupid.

Luka watched her safely down to the dock, and he absolutely was not fixating on the sway of those jeans as she walked away, holy crap, and turned back to meet Rose’s hopeful and utterly transparent look.

“So-oo,” his future sister-in-law said with overdone nonchalance. “You and Marinette looked like you were having a good time together.”

“Don’t go getting ideas, Ro.”

“Rose,” Juleka muttered warningly from the bench where she was sitting, but Rose ignored her.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said innocently. “I just want you to be happy Luka. It looked like you were really happy tonight. And it was great to see Marinette again.”

“No ideas,” he repeated, and Rose gave him a look of deep disappointment. She started collecting the empty takeaway containers, while Luka rounded up the glasses. Rose dropped a kiss on Juleka’s mouth on the way past, and flitted down into the galley. Juleka heaved a put-upon sigh, and swung herself gracefully to her feet, scooping up a couple of stray cushions.

Luka picked up Marinette’s wineglass, with the soft pink imprint of her lipstick.

“You didn’t mention that Marinette would be coming round,” he said, his back to his sister. “You didn’t mention that you’d been in touch with her again.”

Juleka shrugged, and dumped the cushions in one of the storage boxes on the deck. “Didn’t think it mattered. It was ten years ago. You’re not still hung up on what happened back then, are you?”

“No, of course not.” And he was pretty sure that was true. This felt like he’d been blindsided by Marinette Dupain-Cheng in a whole new way.

[mattsvn]

Nostalgia.

Iwaizumi Hajime x fem!reader

Summary: A summer after graduation finds Iwaizumi Hajime halfway across the globe, sitting in a lecture hall and staring at a golden dome that reminds him of the world and his place in it. Or, the lack thereof.

Genre: Slight angst to fluff. Character introspection, self discovery!

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: none.

A/N: Guess who’s crying :smiley: Okay, so I got inspired by this tik tok, check it out, show the artist some love, and adding to another idea I had this came up, I hope you guys like it!  ALSO, that beautiful summary was suggested by @meliorist-midoriya​ !!!​ Repost from my old blog, this is on my favorite fics ever written hehe

There is something distinctive about the traces left by people in the places they inhabited. Whether intentional or not, to enter a house that was once occupied is to step into an unknown life, where all that remains are the lines drawn on the wall frames, with random dates, leaving a record of someone’s growth.

A part of the wall with a lighter color, where photographs once hung and the trace of old drawings on the wall could be seen even if you paid close attention. Seeing the home you had lived in for years empty, lifeless or without its distinctive smell caused an ache in your chest that you couldn’t describe, how was that atmosphere created again, with spotless walls, perfect floors and the lack of human warmth?

You weren’t afraid of living alone, you were afraid of having a lonely life.

It was frightening to think that the apartment you had just bought might feel like it was inhabited by a ghost, with no trace that anyone had ever been there. One way or another you wanted to make that space, with only two rooms and one bathroom, feel like your home, even if it was just you, even if you would only live there for a few months.

So, amidst the worry about establishing a home and hundreds of paperwork, came the first day of college, one more step to adapt to, the breaking of a routine you had just begun to create.

There was no better way to start that school year than by being on time, so, at least for the first week, you tried to be there early enough. It gave you time to get through the school buildings, and to finish your coffee just before the first class started.

Thursday arrived, with the first class being Medieval Art, not usually a subject that caught the attention of many, so it was common to see empty seats. Still, as usual, you were planning on choosing the seat right next to the window, where the sunlight illuminated your notes, but that day, it seemed that someone already occupied that place.

You sat next to him, there was no reason not to share the table, didn’t pay attention to him, it seemed that the boy was taking a nap a few minutes before class, probably he had a class before that one, or he was just tired. The teacher settled into her seat, and you glanced sideways, only to see that the boy was still asleep, not moving.

“One day, the architect, Frank Gehry said: architecture should speak of its time and place, but yearn for timelessness” she began, while behind her appeared the image of a building you had heard too much about. “I think one of the best representations of this is Hagia Sofia” she continued, showing the image of that beautiful golden dome behind her, she kept talking.

As the guy next to you opened his eyes, sleepily he took a deep breath, concentrating on the image in front of him, with some concern he took the supplies from his backpack to take notes for the class, he seemed lost, confused and, in general, tired, like he was there by mistake, or, against his will.

Iwaizumi was not usually like this. Before moving to the United States, he had never been late for a class, he was the type of person who kept everything in order, always punctual, with notes in order and an impeccable grade. A role model in every sense of the word, student, athlete and perfect son.

But as soon as he arrived from his flight, tired to the bone and affected by jet lag, he slept as much as he could, only to wake up in the early morning, stunned by the different time zone he could not fall asleep at the right time, he still couldn’t get used to the food offered there, and he was unable to find the ingredients he would commonly use in Miyagi to eat.

People drove on the left seat, and the road was on the right side, they used to eat on the street without any concern, or on the way to their jobs and schools, nor did there seem to be manners in public transportation, at least no the ones he knew. There were words that confused him, and the symbols on the streets made his head spin.

People did not have the same habits he knew, and he noticed that after only a couple of days after moving in. By the time school started, Iwaizum was still trying to sleep at the time he was used to and didn’t make it until two or three in the morning, so, it resulted in waking up late and sleeping in between classes, he still wasn’t used to having his notes in English, so his handwriting looked weird, the teachers spoke too fast for him to understand, therefore, his notes were all over the place

Not to mention how unpunctual they were, he found himself a couple of times arriving late to class, only to find out that the teacher wasn’t there, and that it would probably take them twenty minutes more to arrive, and sometimes, they would cancel the class when you were already there, just because.

Even in the classes he looked forward the most, he found himself tired, bored, easily distracted, and he expected the same from this one, a subject he had taken only to complete his units. But, when he opened his eyes, he swore he had never seen anything as beautiful as that. A gorgeous dome of gleaming gold, with light streaming in through the windows and the distinctive marks of history on its walls.

It took him a few seconds to listen to the professor properly, as he was still impressed with what he saw on the projector, there was nothing that did not interest him, from the columns to that painting of the Virgin Mary, an impeccable marble floor, and, the mixture of both religions on its walls was perhaps what left him most curious of all that he had seen.

There was nothing like that in Japan, or at least not that he remembered. Byzantine architecture had that distinctive feature in which it left you mesmerized for a moment, he was so enraptured by it that he didn’t notice that there was someone sitting next to him, taking notes of the things the teacher was saying, with a slightly frown, concentrating, and different pens scattered around the table. The teacher continued talking, still detailing how a building created almost fifteen hundred years ago remained one of the finest constructions in human history.

Hagia Sofia, she read from the blackboard. He wrote down the title in a slightly disorganized way, along with the rest of the words on the board.

Hagia Sofia, meaning: holy wisdom. Constantinople, now Istanbul.

“Long before what we now know, the Byzantine Empire took place in what is now Istanbul, the capital of this empire is perhaps one of the most important historical and architectural sites of the Medieval Era, this was the largest known church  for about a thousand years. It has been used as a church, a mosque and now serves as a museum.” She explained, showing the various images of the building. ”There were two later constructions after this, one destroyed in a fire and the second in the Niká riots, then, in the year 532 construction began on what we now know as Hagia Sofia.“

"Wow” Iwazumi sighed, absently sketching the shape of the building.

“I won’t tell you much about this building, at least not for now,” said the teacher, pausing for a moment to look at the picture. “I want an essay on this topic, and I would like you to gather in pairs for it.” she asked them. “I just want your opinions and analysis on the things that are most important to you about the place and what you think is meant to be represented by these, either imagery or architecture. Your partner will be the person who is closest to you, starting with the two of you, at the bottom.”

You looked at Iwaizumi out of the corner of your eye, having to work with people you didn’t know was always a problem, but, you hoped it wouldn’t be like that this time. He also looked at you, a little relieved thinking that you would surely know something about Medieval Architecture, not like him, who felt totally lost in that new subject. Even so, he returned his gaze to the front, memorizing every detail of that dome in his mind.

The class continued, with the teacher talking about historical processes in the fifth century and the topics that would be taken throughout the course, Hajime could not help but see the excitement that certain topics caused you, especially with the mention of some gothic buildings. And so, in the blink of an eye, the class was over, and before he realized it, you were already grabbing your things to leave.

“My next class is Historical Theory, what’s yours? We can organize on the way” you said, looking at him for a second while you closed your backpack. Iwaizumi tried to put his belongings away as quickly as possible, but failed a bit with his clumsy movements. “What’s your major?"

"Oh, Sports Science,” he replied. Your reaction was as expected: confusion, what was a sports science major doing in a medieval art class? “All the other classes were busy and I needed some extra units.”

“Oh, I see” you nodded, walking out of the classroom with him walking beside you.

“What’s your major?” he asked, feeling somewhat embarrassed that he hadn’t asked that before.

“Art History” you replied, with a smile. “By the way, my name is y/n” you said, extending your hand, he received it, still not used to the way people introduced themselves there, but little by little he was starting to adjust to it.

“Iwaizumi Hajime” he cleared his throat, here they speak by first names, not last names, you idiot, he said to himself in his mind. “Hajime.”

“So, Hajime, you didn’t organize your classes on time, you take naps before class, and you don’t know anything about Medieval Art” you jokingly commented. “We have quite a bit to learn, don’t you think?”

“Uh… y-yes” he nodded, stopping when you did, not even realizing how far he had walked. “I won’t let you do all the work, if that’s what you’re worried about” he assured, it seemed they were in front of the door to your next class the moment you stopped and looked at the door, Iwaizumi didn’t want to take up your time, but he had no idea what to say either.

“Well, how about we meet in the library later this week? You can give me your number so we can schedule the day” you hoped the professor wouldn’t come to the classroom while you were talking to  Iwaizumi, as he seemed like a very nice person, despite how nervous he was.

“Sure, I have the whole afternoon off tomorrow, is that okay?” you nodded, extending your phone to him so he could write down his number and name, to your luck, he returned it just in time.

“Sounds perfect to me, I’ll text you as soon as my class is over” you said, saying goodbye and entering just before the teacher, who closed the door behind himself.

Iwaizumi stared at the door for a few seconds, letting out a sigh,then, he walked to his next class. It felt awfully strange to walk around campus alone, with no one by his side. Maybe he had gotten too used to spending his free time with the rest of his friends in highschool, and, at times like these, where he was waiting for a message from a cute girl, he couldn’t help but think about how much he missed them.

He was alone, and that was terrifying.

Iwaizumi looked at his phone for the third time in an hour, the class, food chemistry, was just short of making him fall asleep, yet he couldn’t help but look at his phone and wonder at what point the cute girl in the Medieval Art class would send him a message.

She didn’t until almost four hours later, just as Iwaizumi had recently returned to his apartment and was working on a long assignment for the rest of the week. Ignoring the sound of a message at first, thinking it was probably Oikawa bugging him about some new thing he learned in Argentina, so, he didn’t look at his phone until a couple of minutes later, when a second message came through.

“Hi! Sorry I didn’t talk to you sooner, I’ve been a little busy, but this is my number!”

“My last class ends at 2:00 p.m., do you mind if I meet you at that time in the library?”

He answered almost immediately, regretting later for doing it so quickly, you look like a desperate idiot, he thought. To his luck, as soon as he locked the phone, the screen lit up again with the reply.

It seemed that after that things flowed perfectly, even though before he met her they would have seemed like inconveniences to him, now they looked as an opportunity. The professor for tomorrow’s class informed them that he was out of town, so his classes would start until the following week, which gave Iwaizumi a chance to continue with his homework calmly, and, to get ready to see the pretty girl the next day, maybe even sleep properly that night.

However, nothing went as he planned.

Again, he found himself staring at the ceiling at midnight, without any possibility of being able to fall asleep, no matter how hard he tried, nothing seemed to work. That wasn’t his bed, nor his sheets or his favorite pillow, it wasn’t his wall or the window overlooking his backyard. As he stared at the empty, flat ceiling, he wondered why he couldn’t at least see a golden dome so he would have something to think about while he tried to sleep.

And so he woke up quite late, much later than he was used to. Maybe his body took the opportunity to recover all his lost energy, he had no idea. The only thing he knew was that he woke up thirty minutes before the agreed time with the pretty girl, and, it took fifteen minutes to get to the library from where he was.

He sent as many messages as he could while getting dressed and trying to look as presentable as possible. At least it wasn’t strange to see people running around campus, although it was in the first few weeks of school, where no one was really worried about anything.

“I told you I could wait a while” you mentioned, Iwaizumi was standing in front of her, trying to control his breathing, visibly agitated for having run all the way to the library. “Tell me you at least ate something” you murmured, in a way to accept his apology, then he sat on the free seat in front of you, trying to avoid that questioning.

“I can eat something later, sorry I was late” he apologized, again, he expected you to be upset, but you weren’t, instead, the first thing he saw was a reassuring smile, you hadn’t been more than ten minutes late, so, there was really no problem. “Again, I’m sorry, I was…”

“You don’t have to apologize, Iwaizumi. You were only ten minutes late, I’ve known people who take an hour to show up” the boy looked at the table for the first time, it was almost like the mess she had in yesterday’s class, only now it had several open books around it. “My class ended early so I went ahead to research an assignment I had, don’t you want to go get something to eat before we start?”

“I���d rather do this and then I can eat something, I wouldn’t want to waste your time even more” he replied, it was too obvious that he still didn’t quite master English, or maybe he did but he was quite embarrassed about how it was that he pronounced things. “I’ve never had this happen to me before, I’m sorry, I’m not usually like this.”

“How many times do I have to tell you it’s okay? Seriously, but why are you late? If you say it doesn’t usually happen to you” Iwaizumi looked towards the window with a frown, he felt like he would spend an embarrassment for that, because, sleeping late was not a good excuse, actually, nothing was a good excuse for his lateness, but still, he sighed. “Don’t tell me you’re coming in with a hangover?”

“No, no, not at all. It’s just… I’m still not used to the time change here and I’m used to sleeping at a totally different time” he said, though there was more to it.

The insomnia was only a collateral result of how he felt, and perhaps what kept him most irritable. Perhaps he had chosen that change too quickly, or the feeling was probably something that would fade with time. But he couldn’t help but feel like he wasn’t quite connected to reality, like he was living a strange dream. The routine he had worked on for years that kept him safe was gone, and was now out of his reach.

He missed going out every Tuesday for lunch with Oikawa, Makki and Mattsun. He missed walking to school and greeting his neighbors, or the way Oikawa’s older sister squeezed his cheeks, even though he said how much he detested it, he missed the karaoke he went to once a month and his mother’s food, hell, he even missed Oikawa’s obnoxious nephew.

“So, where are you from? Moving is hard enough, I can’t imagine doing it from another country” he looked at her, realizing she was genuinely concerned and curious, she meant it. The sincerity brought him calm, enough to say what he felt.

“Japan, I just got here a couple of weeks ago, I still don’t understand much and my English isn’t the best so I’m not having the best time” he pointed out, as he picked up his notebook, watching as she jotted something down on the computer, adding a document to start the essay. “Not to be rude, but your culture is really weird.”

“You don’t have to tell me, it is. But you end up getting used to it, don’t you? I find people’s behavior patterns depending on their culture interesting” Iwaizumi hadn’t even noticed that there was already a book on Byzantine architecture on the table, which showed a picture of Hagia Sophia from the outside. “Besides, it’s normal to miss your hometown, don’t you think, what did you most like to do there?”

“Playing volleyball with my friends” he answered without hesitation, for it was true. He missed every detail of it, from the practices, to the coach yelling at his teammates to the games, even the ones he lost.

“Oh, were they on a team together?” she put the computer aside, devoting her full attention to him. Iwaizumi nodded, ready to talk about all the amazing things his team had. “Were you guys good?”

“Well, yes. At least within reason, we were. We never made it to nationals, but within our prefecture we were very good” he nodded, still feeling the bitter taste of defeat on the tip of his tongue as if it had happened yesterday, his last chance to go to nationals ended before it even started.

“And what position did you play?” he questioned, Iwaizumi picked up the book on the table solely to have something to distract himself with.

“Uh, wing spiker. I was the ‘ace’ of the school, but of course, I couldn’t be any of it without Oikawa."

"Oikawa?”

The conversation did not stop since then, between readings, corrections and stories about his high school, Iwaizumi did not even realize that almost three hours had passed, three hours in which he could not believe what he saw in images, despite all the fear he had, all the nostalgia that accumulated inside him, seeing that building in Constantinople brought him a peace that he could not manage to understand, no matter how much he wondered what was going on.

Although it didn’t compare to how the pretty girl explained things, he should probably stop referring to her as the pretty girl and start calling her by her name, as he ended up forgetting it, and every time she said his name, he blamed himself for not remembering hers. He learned everything he wanted to know in one afternoon, thanks to her, the semi domes, the atrium, every detail, structural and artistic there, he memorized it with her voice, melodious, calm, safe.

After making a couple of questions, he lost his fear of asking what he was seeing, because, as she told him, “no one knows everything, there will always be someone who knows something you don’t”. So, he ended up engaged in a conversation about the wonders of medieval architecture and no more than ten minutes later, the conversation drifted to the karaoke that his friends loved, or the park where he and Oikawa learned to play volleyball.

Life at the university became more bearable thanks to her, Iwaizumi heard the story of how she had just moved out of her parents’ house, how they also moved out of their house and the pain it caused her to leave the home she loved empty. She enjoyed knitting, watching movies and listening to new music all the time. In a couple of weeks, he discovered her favorite food, and the kind of clothes she liked best, the movies that made her cry and the ones that made her die laughing, and with each thing he learned, she asked him the same questions. Even though he wasn’t entirely sure how he was supposed to answer, or what people used to say, it made him wonder if he seemed like a nice person or someone who would be interesting to spend time with.

Tuesdays of going out to eat became Tuesdays of organized movies in the dorms, once-a-month karaokes became visits to museums instead of his neighbors, now he was greeting his roommates every morning, now the cute girl in Medieval Art class was the one squeezing his cheeks, it seemed that, little by little, everything was starting to be as he knew it.

Or at least that’s what he thought

“But what do you like, Iwaizumi?” she asked him on a sunny afternoon where sunlight illuminated her room and there was a random movie on TV as the background noise, around her a lot of snacks and fried food, that’s what Saturdays were like, relaxed and sunny. “I almost feel like I know Oikawa like you do, but you don’t tell me much about yourself.”

“Huh?” he asked, doubtful, hadn’t he been talking about himself all that time, or had he only thought he was? “I don’t know what you want to know about me.”

“I want to know who you are, beyond all your friends and the people in your life.I know what Oikawa likes and how many fans he had or the perfect settings he did, but I want to know about you.” she told him.

She didn’t know if it was because the girl was an art enthusiast, or if she just hadn’t met someone who wanted to know more about him for her own pleasure, for what she felt was inexplicable.

“Well, well… with my team” he began, stopping the moment he saw the look on the girl’s face, who could only thus make him feel as if he were a scolded child. He sighed, running his hand through his hair, confused as to what it was he should say.

“Who are you, Iwaizumi, what do you like, what song do you like the most? I don’t want to know about other people, I want to know about you, about what makes you who you are.” She began, the moment only seemed more special with the way the sun was shining on her skin and her smile seemed to shine even brighter than it always did. “I know you’re a good teammate, a good son, a good friend, but who are you, what are the qualities that you have?”

He looked into her eyes, how many times hadn’t he stopped to look into those beautiful eyes that stole his breath, or those lips that said the cutest yet most painful things?“

"Iwaizumi. I want you to tell me the story that you have, like Hagia Sophia, do you remember all the marks that it has? the mix of everything that lies in you? There is so much history in who you are beyond your friends, I want to know if you are happy or if you like ice cream, how you react to things. I hope you understand me, it’s okay to like things that your friends do or showed you, but I don’t think it should be all that you are, so, who are you?”

Still not taking his eyes off her, he remembered every detail of the building he studied for weeks, the religious motifs and art on its walls, the history even in the broken parts of the floor, or those portions where the paint was completely gone. And, with tears in his eyes, he replied:

“I don’t know.” He murmured, his voice trembling.

And he really didn’t know, he had lived so long being a friend, son, teammate and neighbor that, little by little, without realizing it, he stopped prioritizing the things that to him and only to him made him happy.

“Well, there’s only one thing to do about it” she murmured in the same way, very close to him as if she were telling him a secret. “Find out who you are.”

And just like that, the first picture of the two of you decorated your wall, along with some paint smudges from a sunny afternoon, a canvas, and some brushes, and a volleyball mark at first. Two wrongs can make a right, your mother would say. You, in search of rebuilding your space, and he, in search of himself.

You couldn’t have picked a better time than that, or a better life than that.

taglist: @sugas-sweetheart @kirislut @hannahalanib1 @goopyartiste @yee-harr @ohno-grapes @peach-pops @meliorist-midoriya @milktyama @majestic-sea-flip-flop @starlessnyx @tanakasimpcorner @msbyslugg @ordinary-ace @boosyboo9206

[yunhowhoitiss]

𝐜𝐨𝐫 ����𝐞𝐮𝐦

𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭!𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐟𝐞𝐦)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.5k+

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, fantasy au (?), slow burn, angst if you squint, ft co-worker jongho :)

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: You’re finally starting to make ends meet when you start working at your school’s local café, but the world is so full of surprises.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: reader panics a bit(?)

𝐚/𝐧: I came up with this at 4am a couple days ago so it’s not my proudest, but I felt bad just letting it sit in my drafts so here you go :) enjoy!

masterlist

The gentle smell of freshly baked pastries, accompanied by the stronger aroma of ground coffee beans, wafted through the comfy café. There was a constant chatter as customers scattered around the joint whilst waiting, disguising the soft hum coming from behind the coffee machine. Your face was out of sight, except your hair peeked out above the espresso machine where you were pouring a latté, entertaining yourself by decorating a small heart in the foam. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as your eyes turned to soft crescents when soft wisps of your hair had fallen out of your bun and across the sides of your forehead. The steam floating from the cup caressed your hands as you picked up the mug along with an assortment of macaroons. 

“Order for Julie: four macaroons, a chai latté, and an espresso affogato, extra dry!” You announced through the coffee shop, turning a few heads. 

You made your way back to the station to continue other orders but stopped as you noticed something missing; you had run out of cinnamon to top off drinks. Your coworker ought to know where another carton would be, so you turned towards the kitchen to find him wrist-deep in bread dough. 

“Jongho, where are the extra containers of cinnamon again?”

“Oh, those are in the grey cabinet below the pastry display,” he smiled back, all the while kneading the dough. 

Flashing him an ‘ok’ sign, you headed back to the front of the shop. You hadn’t been working at the Crescent Café very long, but you happened to be a pretty fast learner, according to Jongho; you could make latte art before other trainees could even make a latte. Quickly getting back to work, you served a customer until something caught you eye whilst jotting down an order on your notepad; had the writing been on your wrist all day? It must just be something I wrote down earlier, you thought.

As the sun made its way towards the horizon, you returned to the comfort of your small apartment to freshen up, eat dinner, and momentarily forget your academic responsibilities— homework, ugh-- before heading to school again the next day. You entered you apartment with a relived sigh and threw your keys onto a nearby dresser, mumbling "I'm home" to nobody in particular. Too lazy to go to your room, you simply undressed as you walked towards the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothing behind you. Note to self: clean that up later. 

The moment you stepped into the shower, your shoulders loosened as the hot water washed away your tension. The writing on your wrist caught your eye again. Scrutinizing the messy handwriting, you saw what seemed to be a shopping list. 

“Eggs, lucky charms, and aftershave,” you read aloud. 

Aftershave? I don’t use that. Could it be… you were lost thought, not noticing the warm steam filling the bathroom. You rubbed at your soapy skin frantically in an attempt to wash off the pen, to no avail. Lately, although rarely, you’d started to notice small bruises or random marks on your skin; you’d never seen writing, though. You briefly wondered if there was possibly another person causing this, but you only saw such things in movies or books... right? 

Your heart rate started to pick up, and a heavy sensation built up in your chest. It isn’t possible, it can’t be. The cramped space of your shower started to feel suffocating. Nearly slipping, you jumped out of the shower and dried yourself off. You got dressed in whatever shirt and sweats you found hanging around your bedroom. Was something wrong with you? Am I imagining things? I’m not going crazy, right?  Worrisome thoughts flooded your mind as you spiralled deeper into a panic. Calm down. Don’t skip to conclusions. You threw yourself onto the bed. In and out. It’s that simple, you consoled yourself. Slowly but surely, you felt your heart come to a rest. 

When you lifted your hand up above your head the writing was still there, unchanged. So you weren’t losing your mind. Could somebody else be the cause of this? Was someone else somehow writing on your skin? No, you felt stupid for even considering the thought; otherworldly things like that only happened in comics or movies. Nevertheless, it was the only possibility that made sense to you in the moment. You let your curiosity get the best of you, and paced towards the living room to grab a pen off the coffee table. On your right hand, you simply wrote "Hi," in hopes of eliciting some sort of response.

The following day proved to be a rather sunny, warm Monday, but you had to spend your time in a closed lecture hall. The cold-toned ceiling lights were much too bright for your liking, and the monotonous professor spouted information maybe only a handful of people were genuinely listening to. That morning, you had woken up to find the list on your wrist gone, leaving only your own message from the night before. You started to think you'd really had a hallucination of some sort. 

Half an hour into the lecture, you were already bored out of your mind and absentmindedly sketching intricate doodles on your notebook. I should just give up on biochemistry and become an artist, you mused to yourself. You remained focused on your art, while marks started to take shape on the back of your hand. Your soft eyes widened almost comically at the sight, and you shot a brief look to the people around you to make sure they hadn’t seen anything. Whipping your head back to your hand, you saw that the words stopped writing themselves, leaving a short message saying “Am I going nuts?” 

Wondering the same thing yourself, you jotted down a response below it: “I dunno, you tell me,” followed by a cheeky smiley face. If this really was real, you might as well make a good first impression. 

Weeks trickled into months as you made short exchanges with your newly discovered friend. Some nights you would write “good night” followed by a drawn heart, earning a sweet “sleep well” in return. You would frequently wake up to thoughtful words written on the palm of your hand, or you'd kindly ask your companion how they were doing when you had a quiet day at work. Even so, all you had learned about this person was their name, age, and that they were a student as well. Yunho was a twenty-one-year-old elementary education major with a minor in physiology-- he also worked as a dance teacher on weekends. You still didn’t know much about each other, so the messages never went further than greetings and simple conversations. 

Be that as it may, you liked it like that. Your relationship wasn’t complex; it felt comfortable and pure, and you didn’t want to change it.

Mellow spring afternoons at the café had always been your favourite. The wispy clouds in the sky were painted a buttery yellow by the slowly setting sun, and a steady stream of nearby students stopped by for coffee. Your new friend had sweetly noted "It's golden hour. Made me think of you," on your palm, leaving you in a bubbly mood. You had started your shift by drawing a heart on your wrist, hoping your secret companion would see it. 

You worked by the espresso machine as usual, humming to yourself as always. The bell rang, indicating that customers had arrived; it was a group of what seemed to be three guys and a girl. 

“We’ll be right with you!” you called. You turned towards the kitchen.  “Jongho, can you take their orders?” Silence. “Pretty please? I need to clean up my station.” you persisted. 

“Fine, yeah,” you heard your colleague grumble. 

As you tidied up behind the machine, you felt as though someone was watching you from the counter. You lifted your head curiously, meeting a pair of inquisitive doe eyes coloured a soft hazelnut brown. The warm eyes instantly turned into friendly half-moons as the boy smiled shyly upon being caught staring. You hurried back to cleaning up your station, hoping to hide the pink tint of your cheeks, but the red shade consuming your ears gave you away. 

Jongho handed you the cups for their orders and walked over to the pastry display. You got started on a hot chocolate and three iced americanos, getting back into your “barista brain,” as you liked to call it. After finishing the drinks, you called out "Three iced americanos, a hot chocolate, and two blueberry muffins!” 

You turned around to grab straws, and you overheard one of the guys say “I’ll grab ‘em, you guys can stay here.” You made your way back to the counter, looking up only to be met with the boy from earlier. Butterflies littered your stomach, fluttering up into your chest. “Oh, um, here are some straws,” you smiled gingerly.

“Thanks. Could I please get a sleeve as well?” he asked, “For my hot chocolate.”

“Of course!”

As you handed him the cardboard sleeve, his hands caught your eye. Not only were they the most beautiful hands you'd ever laid eyes on, but the boy had a heart drawn on the valley of skin between his left thumb and wrist, exactly where you had drawn one on your own hand just a while earlier. He seemed to recognize the message on your palm as well; a confused expression ghosted over his face. Gathering all your courage, you nodded towards his hand and did your best to form a coherent sentence. “That’s—”

“Your heart,” he interrupted, “Right?” 

You giggled softly in response, barely containing your excitement.

“Right,” you smiled down at your feet in an attempt to hide the bashful grin that pulled at your lips. A hand popped up in front of you.

“Nice to meet you, y/n. My name’s Yunho-- Oh, but you know that already, don’t you?” Yunho chuckled sheepishly. You looked up and slipped your hand into his, shaking it gently. His hands were warm, fingertips ever so soft.

“Nice to meet you too.”

[cloudshapedpatch]

Bells and Whistles

Happy Holidays @ghostlyhamburger, I’m your Lovesquare Obsessed Secret Santa! I hope you enjoy this very indulgent soulmate au 💚🌸

* * * *

Music. It’s all around, and yet, it never gets old. How? How does an arrangement of notes and sounds create wonderful music capable of bringing deep joy and sadness?

Everyone knows people love music. Archeologists always seem to be finding older and simpler instruments used by early humankind. People just love to create their own sounds, if not for their own enjoyment, or perhaps to attempt to share the songs in their heads with others.

For Marinette, it was no different than everyone else. Her song. The leitmotif that seemed to always play in her head. And she could not get it to be quiet. Just once, she wished to take a school test and be able to focus on her paper, and not the wispy bells meant only for her own ears.

It was a nice melody, and the universe had made it just for her (and for her soulmate, but she wasn’t too concerned with this fact at the moment). She never grew tired of it, thank kwami, but it also meant she could never go very long without hearing it. And how the universe loved to play the tune in the least convenient times.

30 chimes of bells.

What is the circumference of a circle that has a diameter of 8 inches?

30 chimes of bells.

What’s 8 times pi?

30 damned chimes of bells.

Marinette let her head drop onto her desk, letting the lone bells play out a couple more times. She only resumed her math test once it seemed it was done.

Thus was a normal occurrence for most people. It still annoyed her.

Her teacher gave Marinette a sympathetic look as she handed in her completed test, bells still ringing in her head.

“Why don’t you just go look for your soulmate?” Alya had suggested one night as they watched a movie.  

“I don’t wanna rush it.” Marinette had lied a little too easily for her liking.  

“You know if you do, your tune will get beautifuller and—”

“And I’ll get to control when I hear it, yeah yeah.” Marinette tossed a few unpopped popcorn kernels at Alya, a wide smile on her face. “And beautifuller isn’t a word.”

“Whatever!” Alya had laughed then, a really joyous, belly-shaking laugh. As they continued to watch their movie, Marinette could tell Alya was playing her own symphony in her head (she always smiled like the biggest love-sick goofball).

Alya was among the lucky few who found her soulmate quite young. It always brought a smile to Marinette’s face when the young couple spoke of the day they realized. Although, Marinette always had to swallow her pride because she couldn’t let anyone know she was the one who had locked them in that fateful zoo cage.

Speaking of, Alya was leading Marinette out of the classroom, saying something about the test, but Marinette didn’t hear her. She was too busy with her own thoughts about songs and soulmates.

Surprisingly, Nino was the first to notice Marinette’s dazed state. His ‘You good?’ was accompanied with a familiar smile; the one that told her she had missed everything he had said.

Marinette blinked her thoughts away. “Yeah! Yeah, just thinking. What’s up?”

“Alya and I were saying we were gonna play UMS 3 at my house, wanna come make it a tournament?”

Marinette’s sudden perfect posture didn’t go unnoticed by either of the other teens. “Sorry, I have some family things tonight. You know how Thursdays are…”

“Right!” Alya punctuated the word with a snap. “Thursdays are family nights. Funny, Adrien said the same thing.”

Nino got an elbow to his side for snickering at Marinette’s blush, but it couldn’t be helped. They bade goodbye and went their separate ways.

The chilly December air stung her heated cheeks, eliciting a breath of thanks that she lived close to the school. In truth, Marinette’s family didn’t have family nights. Thursdays were allotted for Chat Noir’s visits.

He came every Thursday, without fail, at 9pm sharp. Why? No one had any clue. Her parents always cooked for four those nights to be sure he had food (They learned early on he didn’t get much to eat. This concerned Marinette deeply, not only as his partner but also as his soulmate). She supposed the saying was true, ‘feed a cat once and they will return’. He hadn’t stopped visiting ever since she offered him a cookie one otherwise-normal Thursday night about 4 months ago.

Tonight was no different. He knocked on her balcony window at 9 o’clock on the dot, he came down and ate his plate of food, and Marinette beat him at video games with her parents.

It was only when they had gone back up to her attic room that the night turned south.

Chat was hovering over her shoulder as she sketched a dress, excitedly giving her suggestions. Sometimes they were good, other times… not (memories of the awful purple and orange clown jumper threatened to surface).

Marinette had started to hum whilst she drew. Chat was playing with her hair and whispering encouragement, and all was well.

“Whatcha humming?” He murmured, barely audible above the sound of pencil on paper.

“Hm?” His hands had frozen in her hair, the lack of movement causing a lull in her train of thought. She blinked hard as if to will her thoughts back. “Oh, just a little tune. Should I put a flower or a bow here?”

“A bow, for sure.”

As she sketched the bow on the dress’ bodice, she hummed a little louder for Chat to hear.

And he hummed the last few notes with her.

Before she could comprehend how he knew the tune, she could hear a piano in her head, playing a sweet little harmony with jazzy drums. The familiar sound of ethereal bells played the melody she knew too well. It felt as if she were surrounded by a thousand magical whistles, carrying her up and away to the clouds. And based on the look in Chat’s eyes as he spun her chair to look at her, he was hearing it too.

Damn it.

She would have gotten emotional if she wasn’t filled with terror. Finding your soulmate was supposed to be an important event in one’s life. For Marinette, now it was another secret under her hat.

He was whispering her name, eyes sparkling and the most endearing smile on his face and why is he looking at me like that? say something, anything! to get him to stop!

“Wow it’s late, time flies, you know?” She cringed at her abnormally high voice, playing off the flinch as a yawn. “I should go to bed, haha.”

Her cheeks twitched with the effort to keep the fake smile as he just stood there, staring at her, an unreadable expression on his face.

And then she was in his arms as he carried her up to bed, eyes large and kind. He  set her down gently before giving a two-finger salute and jumping through her balcony window. She felt the mattress bounce slightly from his weight. Too late, she registered his parting words to her, goodnight princess.

With a pillow secured to her face, she screamed.

“Marinette! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Tikki. Just overwhelmed.” She threw the pillow down onto her knees.

“You don’t look fine.”

Neither did Tikki, if Marinette was being honest. She looked just as worried as she felt.

“I just… the ladybug and black cat miraculous are always soulmates, so I wanted Chat’s soulmate to be Ladybug, not Marinette. That makes sense, right?”

“Yes! And it was a great idea, but the universe has its own plans, and you can’t override them.”

“I know! It’s just that— I was planning— I didn’t want Marinette to be associated with Chat Noir. It’s too risky! What if people connect the dots? What if— oh no, Tikki! What if Plagg told Chat Noir about the soulmates? What if Chat Noir knows I’m Ladybug?!”

“Deep breaths, Marinette. It’s gonna be okay! I really don’t think Plagg would have told him, he’s really not fond of romance, he thinks it’s mushy.”

Marinette took a few moments to focus on her breathing, but Tikki’s unsure face didn’t calm her nerves any.

“I can go talk to Plagg if you want. And if Chat Noir really does know who you are, then we can work it all out! You make the rules now Marinette, you don’t have to choose a new partner unless you want to.”

The thought of her identity being known made her sick, but she tried to sleep anyway. A night of good rest would help her think more clearly, right?

She couldn’t help but let the song play out a few times more before she finally dozed off, only for it to echo in her sleep.

* * * *

If Marinette had been paying attention, she would have seen Adrien hovering nearby like the confused, enamoured puppy that he was. She would have noticed his lingering gaze, his soft smile. She would have noticed his internal debate over whether to say hello.

(Everyone else noticed; everyone except the object of his affections.)

Alas, she was too preoccupied with her increasing anxiety. She wasn’t sure when Tikki had left her purse, but she had checked ten minutes ago only to find she was missing. Her foot tapped at the floor at irregular intervals, matching the beat of the song in her heart (Jazz was the worst possible genre to pace her life, but then again, when was she ever regularly spaced?).

She played the whistling song in her head once more, too tired to fight her smile. She could have a much worse soulmate, that was for sure. Who wouldn’t want a sweet, considerate, objectively handsome if she really let herself think about it—

A nudge against her side let her know Tikki had phased into her purse. Almost too hastily, she excused herself to the washroom.

“So? What’s the verdict? I haven’t been able to focus all day!” She whispered, having been too anxious to wait for the door to close behind her.

“I’m so sorry, Marinette.”

Another wave of anxiety. Marinette took a shaky breath in. “What do you mean?”

Tikki’s little hands wrung each other dry as she spoke. “There was a miscommunication between Plagg and Chat Noir, and he knows you’re Ladybug now.”

Her charge slid to the floor by the sinks before her feet could give out completely. He knew? How could this have happened?

She fought the urge to cover her face and cringe. What now?

The door pushed in, Alya successfully interrupting her thoughts.

“Marinette! You okay?”

“Yeah!” Faster than a zip of her yo-yo, her hands flew to the hem of her pink jeans. “Just re-cuffing my jeans. What’s up?”

Alya gave Marinette a quirky sort-of look before shaking her head in amusement. “Miss Bustier wanted me to come get you. We’re starting the holiday party!”

“Let’s get going then!” Marinette locked arms with Alya as they walked out. If neither girl talked about the odd scene, perhaps they would both forget.

The party went well, the shiny menorah and shamash reflecting the small tree’s lights in dazzling patterns on the walls. The atmosphere was pleasant, the treats shared were delicious, and their White Elephant gift exchange went very well. The stuffed dinosaur she made ended up with Rose, and Marinette gratefully accepted a new oversized hat from Nino.

Adrien had caught her eyes a few times too many for her own comfort. It felt almost wrong to be thinking only of her partner while searching Adrien’s eyes for hidden meaning. She took his warm gaze and soft smile with a grain of salt, then turned her mind away to think of Chat Noir’s soft, affectionate gaze and his broad, warm smile that never failed to make her grin in return. For some reason, Adrien’s smile made Marinette want to listen to Chat’s song.

All too soon, the party came to a close. She bade her goodbyes, wished her friends a happy holiday break, and started to walk home in the early minutes of dusk. A fun day of sweet treats and party games left her heart warm and content. The soft tinkling of street lamps illuminating all around her brought a small spread of euphoria in her chest. Shadows danced in the corners of her eyes, drawing her gaze up to the rooftops, where her favorite pair of inhuman green eyes peered back at her. Chat leapt across the buildings in front of her, just enough to stop and look back for a moment as she walked.

Her stomach churned as they locked eyes. Feet glued to the pavement, she stared up at him, waiting for him to… well, she wasn't sure what she was waiting for. He was just looking at her, perched up four stories above her, head tilted.

Oh, she thought belatedly, he wants to talk.  

With a small burst of resolution, she gave him a smile before willing her feet to move towards her house. By now the sun had set and the sky was gradually turning dark, a deep ocean encouraging her escape. As much as she longed to fall into the stars and float away, she also found herself giddy with excitement.

Their shared symphony played in her head as she opened the door to her home and excused herself upstairs, the melody almost unbidden, but she knew in her heart she had been longing to allow herself to enjoy it again.

Although, feeling ready for the next chapter of life was different than turning the page itself. There was sure to be shaky hands and stuttered words, confusion and maybe a little more bittersweet than she’d like, but, little did she know, there was going to be acceptance, overpowering emotions, tears, and many long hugs (and perhaps a few kisses), but that was life.

Besides, with her soulmate and partner by her side, she could do anything.

* * * *

* * * *

Also! I may have gotten a little carried away and composed the leitmotif and the soulmate song as well~! You can listen to it here  :)

[a-la-la-llama]

Officially a twenty-one-year-old today, Damian was being dragged out to a run-down bar by the many annoyances that he was forced to call brothers. “Baby bird’s finally able to have a drink legally! It feels like yesterday when you threatened to stab me.”, he clapped his hand on Damian’s shoulder who immediately shrugged it off, with a far off look Dick sighed. “He did threaten to stab you yesterday.”, Tim corrected. “Tt, not my fault he decided a happy birthday was needed at midnight.” Damian crossed his arms as the group walked in. Jason had frequented the place enough to know the bartenders, who were now giving him crap because of the last time he came and started a bar fight. “Come on Larry, it’s Demon Spawn’s birthday! You can’t kick me out yet?”, trying to persuade the bartender into serving him, Jason threw an arm over Damian’s shoulder. “The infamous Demon Spawn is old enough to join the big boys, eh?”, the bartender asked, cleaning a mug before filling it up with a yellow substance. “Would you believe me if I said I was brought here against my will?”, staring at Larry with a deadpan expression he was handed a cup of beer. “First one’s on the house. It’s gonna taste bad but you’ll get used to it after a couple of rounds.” As if Damian hadn’t tasted alcohol before, it wasn’t hard to go to the middle of Jason’s stashes and fill them with water. After the second bottle of vodka, he was usually too drunk to even notice the difference. Taking a gulp, Damian could hear the cheers from Dick as Tim poured a suspicious amount of whiskey into his coffee mug.

Damian couldn’t be more content that he could now drink, or he would have already been annoyed at how loud and noisy the place was. Or the fact that a group of men were desperately trying to convince a group of girls to join them on the dance floor that was severely crowded and failing pitifully by not taking the hints. Don’t even get him started on those who were on the edge of blacking out and were making a fool of themselves on the dance floor. Tim and Dick had been the first to catch a buzz, one being a light-weight and the other having terrible health choices. Jason had grabbed the two on a mission to see what crazy plans he could pull while they were under the influence. This had not been Damian’s plan, he was spending his birthday sitting alone on a barstool when he would much rather be at home with his beloved fur family members than the human ones. But, he soon found himself on his own personal mission.

She had caught his eye first. He was scanning the crowd trying to locate his brothers in an attempt to convince them it was time to head home. Damian had to do a double-take when he saw her midnight sky hair in the faint yellow glow of the bar. She sat directly across the room from him on a tall table with her head down in what seemed to be a book. He didn’t register how long he had been staring but was pulled back to reality when a drink was placed on the counter. “She’s your age. Real sweet and has been coming here alone for the past two months.” It was none other than Larry the bartender that gave him an all-knowing smile that eerily reminded him of Alfred’s. “Tt. This is going to Drake’s tab, correct?”, jeering his head to the drink. Larry shook his head at the topic change, “I’m just saying you should go talk to her, that’s all.” Damian grumbled, he was an Al Ghul and Wayne, he would never succumb to the embarrassment of pinning after a girl in a bar like some others did around him. Then again, she didn’t have to know that, did she? He doubted he would ever see her again, what harm could come out of it? Damian, no last name, mused about the next following steps he would take.

She felt the presence of a pair of eyes on her. Keeping her head low she hoped the lack of interest in the setting was enough to throw them off. It was a common occurrence actually, what did she expect to happen coming into a place like this by herself. But this felt different somehow, the aura coming with the gaze made her distracted. She fiddled with Plagg’s ring, located on her right hand’s pointing finger, spinning it around. She adorned the leather as it was much more suited for the dark city of Gotham than her spots. The night vision was an added bonus that came in handy when traveling around at night and the sassy talks she had with Plagg. She had felt the eyes travel off her for a moment before they were right back on her. Now she couldn’t even focus enough to remember what she was just about to write. Frustrated, she tapped her foot impatiently on the chairs stepping stool. That she hated to admit she used to get up and her foot barely reached it. To her wit's end, she snapped her head up only to meet the most beautiful emerald green eyes she had ever seen. With newfound inspiration, she drowned herself back into her book.

Damian hadn’t expected her to snap her head up so quickly as she did, nor did he expect her to stare right at him when she did. Though, he couldn’t have been happier that she did, especially taking into account the lovely pair of doe eyes he was able to stare into at the moment. Her eyes were similar to a clear sky’s baby blue color but not as dull. It was almost like they had a certain electrifying touch to them because they seemed to glow in the dimly lit area. As if on the verge of catching fire at any given moment, holding a world of secrets and passions that he desperately wanted to uncover. Her eyes left him as quickly as they came leaving a void in his vision. The strange girl that captivated all of his attention in a blink of an eye without even knowing it, dove her head back down. He gave himself a sly grin.

Step One: Catch her Eye. Check

“I’d like-“, before he can even turn and ask Larry he already pulled two drinks out of nowhere and they were resting on the counter. “Good luck! Don’t make me regret this.”, lectured Larry. Mustering up his courage, Damian took a drink in each hand before making his way across the bar. Thankfully, his brothers were nowhere in sight and couldn’t possibly ruin this for him, yet that is. He set the drinks down with two little clinks, drawing her attention from her book to him. “Mind if I sit here with you?”, implored Damian gesturing to the open stool next to her. “I assume you brought me offerings to bargain with?” Damian almost short-circuited with how cute her voice sounded. “O-of course!” He mentally cursed himself at the small stutter but covered it up by handing her a drink. Damian noticed how one cup held a pink bendy straw and gave that one to her. She didn’t take a drink until she got a nod from Larry behind the bar. It wasn’t the first and certainly wouldn’t be the last time someone offered a drugged drink, but Larry always kept an eye out for her and said it was safe. “I’m Damian.” She nodded, “Marinette.” He felt a smile creep onto his face,” Nice to meet you, Marinette.” The name gracefully rolled off his tongue.

Step Two: Catch her name. Check.

Once out of his stupor he realized she had once again returned into the book. Peering over her shoulder (out of curiosity not to get closer to her, never!) , he noticed it was filled with intricate drawings with French notes written in the margins. “Isn’t that French?”, he questioned, “Are you not from Gotham.” She scribbled something down before looking up and answering. “It is and nope! I lived in Paris all my life until four years ago.” He pondered for a moment, “Any reason why?” The girl squirmed in her seat, ‘Dammit Damian! Now you made her uncomfortable, she hates you!’ She twirled her ring a couple of times, “I needed a change of pace and couldn't take living there anymore. So I packed up and left.” Damian could tell it wasn’t something she shared with most people and wondered what made him different. Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, he relished in the fact he was able to catch some of her secrets though it wasn’t what he was after at the moment. Taking another glance at what she was doing he realized that she was drawing in a sketchbook that seemed to be filled with countless articles of clothing. “Is this a hobby of yours?”, he asked pointing at a model sketch. She looked up at him and seemed to beam, “I’m an up and coming fashion designer! I come here every day to find inspiration! You won’t believe how many different styles you can see here!” Damian had found what caused the spark in her eyes and listened to her ramble about it happily.

Step Three: Start a Flame. Check!

She excitedly explained all the little details in her most recent designs and provided reasons and meanings behind each one. He hadn’t meant to read the margin notes of the dark green peacoat that was drawn with intricate gold embroidery. “Is this one from me?”, he questioned with a sly grin and side glance. Damian noticed how the color of her cheeks and the tips of her ears, that were now exposed as she tucked her hair behind them, turned a dark pink compared to her pale skin. The contrast helped him realize how her face was dotted with freckles that resembled constellations in his mind. A smile crept upon his face again, “I had already drawn the jacket but couldn’t decide on a color scheme. When I looked at you earlier, I concluded that you had really pretty eyes.”, she admitted mumbling the last sentence. Marinette was tense now and caused Damian to be determined to lighten the mood. “You know what they call a jacket on fire, right?” The random question threw her off as she furrowed her eyebrows together before raising one. “A blazer.” Nonchalantly as possible, he grabbed his drink and took a swig as the joke settled in. He admitted it wasn’t the best but was still rewarded greatly. A smile graced her lips before she burst into a fit of giggles, hiding her blush behind her hand. He was left catching his breath at the sweet sound of her laughs tinkled like bells in his ears. Completing his final step.

Step Four: Catch a Smile. Check!

Damian had not expected to get this far based on his track record. No matter how much the press gossiped about his looks and mysterious charm, he was never good at the social and relationship points in life. Damian would admit that the main problem was his inability to adjust to the variety of people’s personalities. Yet, this small slip of a girl who was an incarnation of pure sunshine made it feel so easy. His usually cold, harsh, and stoic demeanor vanished once in her presence. Damian felt like an entirely different person but found himself liking the new one better. His mind raced a million miles a minute on what else he could possibly do as they continued to talk. ‘Would it be weird if he tried to hold her hand? Maybe he could get a dance with her? What was a good way to catch her number? It’s dark he should definitely offer to walk her home. Getting a date didn’t sound bad either.’

Oh.

Oh.

Oh no.

Damian realized the girl sitting next to him was already five steps ahead of him on her own mission. She had already caught all of his feelings and his heart in the hour they spent together. He knew she knew it too as she gave him a pleased smirk. Damian Al Ghul Wayne had his heart stolen from him right under his nose.

And he had no intention of taking it back.      Next!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Aged up Daminette that I wrote about at 12 am....Enjoy?

[we-are-inevitable]

modern art // javid (ch. 1)

A/N: hi !! so some of you may remember an old songfic i did in march of last year, titled ‘modern art’ after the song “IDK You Yet” by Alexander 23. well, i’ve always thought that that one shot would work great as a stand alone fic, and here we are! i have ch. 1 edited and SO MUCH of it as changed- like, for example, the fic is a chapter fic now !! regardless, i hope you guys like this !!

WARNINGS: depression, anxiety, self-deprecation, past addiction, mentions of addiction, just general Bad Times- pls be mindful when reading !! it’s just very Not Happy rn ADDITIONAL INFO: all characters are in their mid-twenties in the fic. oh also this is probably important but it’s a soulmate au !!

Read On AO3!

tag list: @bound-for-santa-fe @wannabecowboypunk @shippingcannons @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside @smallsies @deliciouspeachpirate @newsies-is-my-erster 

Jack doesn't know what’s going on with himself, but he knows that he could really use his soulmate right about now.

They’ve communicated before. Never verbally, and never enough to reveal who they were. Perhaps they are both just... dealing with some unspoken fears, dealing with the worry of rejection sitting heavy in their chests. Perhaps they both like this mystery- the uncertainty that came with the notes scrawled across their bodies in a handwriting that isn’t their own.

Or perhaps they just aren’t ready to take the plunge. To grow up and face the harsh fact that, as soon as they meet, wherever and whenever that may be, a new chapter of their life will unfold. Consume them. Change anything and everything they’ve ever known or held dear.

They had been braver when they were children, that much was true. Jack remembers staying up late often, writing notes on his skin and watching in awe as the replies appeared. He remembers the giddy rush of trying to quickly wash off the ink on his wrist when they ran out of space to talk, and, oh, how they talked. There were school days when Jack would go to class exhausted, feeling like he’d been walking through quicksand for miles on end, but all of it had been worth it. The exhaustion he felt had been worth being able to talk to them until two, three, four in the morning. Sometimes he regretted it, of course, but only because it was harder for him to focus in class. Never because he was upset at them.

He could never be upset with them.

Even now, Jack remembers a lot about his soulmate. They liked music. They knew how to play the piano. They were into a few video games, even some that Jack had never played, and said that they always tried carrying a book with them wherever they went. Jack remembers that, as a younger kid, they liked Harry Potter and Percy Jackson, but also liked analyzing Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe and a bunch of other fancy authors that Jack had never even heard of. They were intimidatingly smart, and sometimes, would carefully correct Jack’s grammar whenever he misspelled a word or something- but they were never mean about it, they were just… there. A steady presence that he could count on.

Fifteen year old Jack dreamed of finding them one day. But now, twenty-five year old Jack is losing hope.

He can’t exactly help it. For starters, he and his soulmate haven’t communicated in… well, shit, it had to be nearly a year. Maybe nine months or so, but there’s no way to tell for sure, and even then, their conversations since reaching adulthood have been dull, for lack of a better word. A few positive comments here, a ‘have a good day’ there- it’s all so mundane, and neither of them can be blamed for it. They both have busy lives- or, well, Jack does, at least. His job as a graphic designer is hard enough on its own, but the added pressure of doing freelance work and commissions on the side has been eating away at him for weeks, coupled with debilitating self-doubt and lack of motivation for… anything.

Saying that he’s overwhelmed is the understatement of the century.

There is always another design, another client, another meeting, another deadline, another sleepless night as he stares at a blank canvas and prays for a spark of inspiration from whatever God is listening. Usually his inspiration comes from the world around him- his friends, city life, even the quiet confines of his apartment, but right now... Jack is stuck. He had holed himself up in his room days ago, trying and failing to get out of bed every morning when the time came to work- and thank God that the majority of his work could be done from home. His boss was understanding, too, to an extent.

Still, though, there’s a constant heavy weight on his chest that prevents him from moving most days, and he’s lucky if he even gets up long enough to shower or eat or do literally anything aside from lie in silence and count the cracks in his ceiling.

Nothing had happened to him recently to bring this on, from what he can tell. Jack has always been the happy-go-lucky leader, the man with a plan, the guy who always knew just what to say to motivate others into doing the best thing for themselves, but when that responsibility is reflected back onto himself, Jack feels helpless. There are words waiting to be said, sketches waiting to be drawn, designs waiting to be sent to clients… yet Jack lies there, motionless in his room for three days before he even has the energy, the willpower, to pull back his curtains and allow the sunlight to shine through. There is so much he wants to do, so much he needs to do, but he can't bring himself to do any of it.

In all twenty-five years of his life, through all of the things he’s been through, the ups and downs and foster homes and graduations and birthdays and funerals and therapists and rehab facilities and whatever the fuck else life decided to throw at him, Jack has never felt so worthless, so… lonely. His closest friends are all moving on with their lives. Many have already found their soulmate, have settled down and hidden their rowdy, rambunctious pasts behind skeletons in a closet. They’d all gotten their adventures done and over with in high school and college, and most are moving onto bigger and better things in life. They have careers. Families. Some have children, others have pets, a few have an insane amount of plants to care for.

All have seemingly left Jack behind in the dust.

No one told him when to flip the switch.

No one told him when he had aged out of adventure.

Now, they would never say it, but Jack knows. He knows. Saturday hangouts and trips to the bar had been replaced by Sunday church services and playdates for the kids. Rather than hearing yelling from his living room after his friends had all been teetering just on the edge between tipsy and fucked up, Jack hears the news, and documentaries, and podcasts, and the ghosts of a past life that he still seemed to be desperately clinging on to.

Katherine had been the one to tell him that he needed to grow up, though she didn’t put it in such a blunt manner. No, she’s just.... gently urging him to find a bigger apartment, or buy matching furniture from a place that is not a thrift store, or purchase dishes that weren’t of the plastic Walmart brand. She says it was because she wants to see him in a more professional, "adulty" lifestyle, but he knows it’s really because she can see that he’s a mess.

Deep down, Jack knows she’s right. She’s always right.

He just can’t help but feel cemented in place, dreaming of the past while dreading the new future ahead of him.

Jack never asked to feel so broken for no reason. All of the hope and optimism he had felt as a teenager was gone, lost in a sea of uncertain plans and shitty jobs and bill extensions and canvases dropped onto the floor with no rhyme or reason. And, yes, maybe Jack would look dramatic to someone who didn’t know his situation, but Jack knows what dramatic feels like. Dramatic feels like watching his best friend, Charlie, belt onstage in front of a backdrop that he helped create for the school play. Dramatic feels like laughing at the top of his lungs while walking through a random gas station at two in the morning, joined by Race and Al, all while higher than a kite. Dramatic feels like driving to the outskirts of the city with Katherine, climbing onto the roof of an old building and screaming about all of their stress, their anxiety, their insecurities, just to have some form of emotional release.

Dramatic doesn’t feel like sadness. It’s not supposed to.

Not for Jack.

He had been so… so happy, as a teenager. Proud and defiant and carefree. He was the kind of guy to skate and smoke weed in Central Park until midnight and take a math test at eight in the morning the next day. He was the kid who stood on a table in the cafeteria and came out as bisexual to everyone around him, just because of a dumbass bet that he didn’t even get paid for. He was the boy who wasn’t at all good in an academic sense, but who always knew how to talk himself out of trouble, who always came up with the most ridiculous- or most believable- lies to cover his ass when he needed it, who was always the class favorite, the teacher’s pet without meaning to be.

Jack had felt on top of the world back then, but now he’s struggling to even get off of the ground. The longer time goes on, the more lost Jack feels inside his own life. He feels like something was missing, something big. Something bigger than himself.

When his mother was alive, which now felt like lifetimes ago, she would often echo this old wives’ tale about how it’s best to find your soulmate while you’re younger, just to save them- and yourself- the pain of being alone for a long time. Jack had always kind of believed her; logically, he knew it was true, but he had always told himself that it wouldn’t happen to him. That he would be fine alone, though it wouldn’t be ideal, and that he would have plenty of time for soulmates after he got out and made a name for himself.

He’s starting to think, though, that maybe she was right. Maybe Jack had waited too long to make a move, to make contact again, because now, he just feels nauseous even thinking about it.

Don’t get him wrong, he knows the negative effects of self deprecation and not taking his own mental health seriously, he’s been to rehab before, blah, blah, blah, but, fuck, how could he put his soulmate through something like this? This fucked up state of mind he has now. Jack can’t even imagine talking to Katherine about this, and Katherine had been his best friend for over a decade. He can’t just meet his soulmate now- it’s been too long, he’s too messed up, they won’t like him, they’ll hate him for not trying hard enough, and Jack will just end up alone again, wasting away in his bedroom because no one fucking cares. No one cares. He has nobody.

That’s not true. He has Medda, his mom, his savior, his impulse control, but the thought of telling her that everything is acting up again makes him want to scream. He has Tony, but Tony has Al, and Tony and Al have a kid- a sweet little five year old girl who calls Jack ‘Uncle Jackie’ and takes no shit from anyone. He has Katherine, but Katherine has her soulmate- this dude named Darcy, who Jack doesn’t have much of an opinion on because they just met, like, a month ago, and Jack hasn’t exactly been emotionally ready for a hangout session between the three of them. He also has Charlie, and Charlie has certainly seen him in worse times- like when Jack was kind of hooked on pills for the entirety their freshman year of college- but Charlie has grad school to worry about and Charlie would hate him if he bothered him with this.

Still, there are other people who would listen, probably. He could easily talk to Elmer, or Romeo, or Specs, or Jojo or Finch or Sean or a fucking therapist but that’s just it, isn’t it? If he talks, he burdens, and Jack Francisco Kelly would rather run himself into the ground than be a burden anyone.

So, he makes a vow.

He makes eye contact with his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He’s gripping onto the sink, holding on for dear life, as he stares into his own sunken eyes. He takes in his appearance. Damp, messy hair, falling down to cover his forehead. Pale skin, which isn’t normal at all. Dark circles have taken their place around his eyes, and his smile- one of his favorite things about himself- is… nonexistent.

Distantly, Jack registers himself dumping a full bottle of ibuprofen into the sink. And then, he does the same thing with the bottle of melatonin from his medicine cabinet. The valium follows. He lets the water run for a long time. It's not that he doesn't trust himself- he'd done so, so good in rehab, and he doesn't even feel urges that often anymore- but it's better safe than sorry, especially since he's like... this.

This is not the Jack Kelly he’s used to anymore. This is not the Jack Kelly he wants to be.

But this Jack Kelly is the one who vows not to reach out. The one who vows to only answer when his soulmate is ready, and maybe not even then.

He doesn’t have to wait long, though.

Not when a heart appears on the back of his hand the next morning.

It’s there when Jack wakes up, and, honestly, it almost brings Jack to tears- but not necessarily for happy reasons. Sure, Jack wants to be happy. Who wouldn’t be happy after seeing something like this? A lopsided heart drawn in red ink, right on the back of his left hand- it was the definition of a symbol, of a romantic gesture, and Jack wants so badly to write back, to strike up conversation, to draw a goddamn heart, but… he can’t.

He can’t, and that’s horrible of him, and he knows it.

Right now, though… Jack can’t even work up the courage, the energy, to call his mom.

His soulmate, whoever they are, is going to have to wait.

[snowdice]

Road Trips and Missing Persons (Part 13)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton & Virgil, Virgil & Deceit, Logan & Patton, Emile & Remy, Roman & Remus & Janus

Characters: Patton, Virgil, Deceit, Remus, Roman, Logan, Emile, Remy

Summary: Patton was just getting groceries. The next thing he knew, there was a knife at his throat and he was an unwilling uber driver. Virgil’s on the run after the murder of his dad, and it’s not just his paranoia that’s telling him he’s being chased down. He has to get somewhere safe, somewhere he can trust, and all he has is a couple of stories from his dad and a name: “Green Bellow Foods and Dispensary.”

Notes: Secret Agents AU, knives, carjacking, kidnapping, murder mentioned, guns mentioned, pepper spray, blood mentioned, drugs mentioned, explosions (more to be added)

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve affectionately named it the Goblin Brain Fic because it’s helping my brain actually get motivated for studying. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 My Master Post

Remy was slumped down in his seat as Emile continued to lecture him on all the possible consequences of his actions over the past 24 hours. Jeezy creezy was Emile miffed about all of that. Remy had been trying to blow it off, but Emile was fully, painfully aware that he’d almost had lost his brother today and Remy was going to hear about it until Emile’s lungs aches.

“And another thing…” he said.

“Wait,” Remy said, and Emile did because there was a lace of panic to his tone.

“What?” Emile asked.

“The tracker stopped working,” Remy answered pushing buttons a little bit desperately on his device.

“It went completely offline somehow,” Remy said.

“Did it get turned off?” Emile asked. “Or run out of batteries?”

“It doesn’t turn off and the batteries are designed to last for years,” Remy said. “It can even track through 20 feet of water. The only way it could stop sending a signal this abruptly is if the thing was destroyed.”

Emile paused. “You said Virgil knows what the blinking light means.”

“Yes.”

“Is it possible that he knows, or well, ‘knows,’ you’re dead? Barbara did send a man after him, he could have mentioned it.”

Remy stared down at the device in his hands.

He pressed a couple of buttons and studied the screen for a moment. “You little shit,” he groaned. “You threw it out the fucking car window, didn’t you?”

“How do you know?” Emile asked.

“Because if I look at the history, it was going at 65 miles per hour down the interstate, suddenly stopped cold, and then went offline probably when another car inevitably crushed it.”

“Ah.”

“Well, at least the fucker’s probably okay. Dammit Virgil! Where are you going?” Remy pushed a few more buttons almost idly as he thought. “Let me get into Virgil’s head for a minute: emo music, dark clothes, would rather have his toenails ripped out than go to parties, makes split second decisions based on little info. Yep! Got him.”

Emile rolled his eyes, but Remy wouldn’t have noticed as he had his own eyes closed. “Hmm. So, I’m Virgil. My bitch mom killed my dad and sent someone after me. I have no idea what’s going on, but I bolt out of there because fuck mom. I want to get the hell out of dodge so I convince someone to drive me somehow, I guess, but where would I want to go? Someplace safe. Where’s safe? Maybe Emile, but obviously that’s not where he went. Or Janus, but he’s too connected to mom. I don’t really know anyone else, especially not someone who could help with this sort of stuff.”

Remy thought for another long moment. “Oops.”

“Oops?” Emile asked. “What oops?”

He could tell by the expression on Remy’s face that he was not going to like the answer. “I may have let something… slip.”

“What do you mean, Remington?”

“Um, well you see,” Remy said. “A couple of months ago Virgil was being, you know, himself: a little shit. He may have, possibly, found some papers.”

“What kind of papers?” Emile asked.

“They were nothing important!” Remy assured. “There wasn’t any dangerous info in them or anything, but…”

“But?”

“It is somewhat possible that they had the name on them.”

“How possible?” Emile asked, eyes narrowed on him.

“He asked what Green Bellow Foods was and why they needed 50 top-of-the line computers outfitted at an old factory.”

“And what did you tell him?!”

“Nothing!”

Emile glared at him.

“Okay, well I had to tell him something,” Remy mumbled. “I just kind of said that I knew the owner well and was working with him on some stuff. Then I told him not to worry about it, which was probably a mistake, because he’s Virgil. So, then I found him snooping in my car. At that point I had to sit him down and talk to him. So, I told him a bit about Logan.”

“Remy that’s not nothing!”

“I didn’t use his name or anything. I just told him a couple of really, extremely, tremendously, vague stories, so he didn’t think I owed money to the mafia. Which, yes, he did suggest.”

“That’s worse!”

“What do you want from me Emile?!”

“Some common sense!” Emile answered. “I’ve been comparing you to the rat in Ratatouille for years, but I’m starting to think you’re more of a Pinky from Pinky and the Brain.”

“Hey, ouch,” Remy replied. “Also, I personally subscribe to the theory that Pinky is actually the intelligent one who is foiling Brain’s evil plots from the inside. So, there.”

“Now is not the time,” Emile said.

“Oh, it’s not the time to discuss cartoon theories?” Remy mumbled into his lap. “Must be serious.”

“It is serious! Virgil is missing!”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” Remy snapped. “I know, Emile.”

There was quiet. Emile took a breath. “Okay,” he said, calmer. “Do you really think he’s going to Logan?”

“He’s headed somewhere,” Remy answered, “and wherever that somewhere is, it’s inexplicably down the most direct route towards base.”

“Well, Virgil is smart. I don’t think he’d just keep going so quickly without a destination in mind. We should call Logan.”

“Do you honestly believe Barbara doesn’t have your phone tapped when Virgil is missing? If you had one of Logan’s phones, I might agree with you, but as it is, we’d be giving away our position, and possibly clueing her into Virgil’s plan. If he shows up at base, Logan will take him in no question. It’s less dangerous for everyone this way.”

“Fine,” Emile said. “We’ll just keep driving towards Logan and hope you’re right about where he’s going.”

“Of course, I’m right,” Remy said lightly. “I’ve got the paternal instincts going on. Course, they didn’t stop the knife throwing incident of ’09. I blame Janus for that, though.”

Emile shook his head at him.

“It is good for when he tries to steal sweets, or that one time he brought home a baby piglet and tried to hide it from me in his bedroom. Or when he’s feeling anxious about something but won’t tell me because he thinks it’s silly.” Remy’s own fingers tapped out an anxious pattern against his knee. “It also worked with the golf cart incident, but it was too late. Again, I blame Janus. He messes with the paternal instinct meter. He’s far too unpredictable and I make the mistake of thinking he’s responsible, which he is half the time, but the other half of the time I remember that he’s still mostly a kid and one that grew up in an unstable environment. Did I tell you that last month they went and won a bunch of tickets at the arcade and used them to get those 5 ticket rubber ducks and just unloaded them all over my room? Honestly, you’d think a 21-year-old would have a better use for his money or at least have the brains to go buy them at a store. He could have gotten like 500 more ducks for the same amount of money. Of course, it was his mom’s money, so I guess I can get behind wasting it on arcade games and rubber ducks. The prank was apparently based on some comedy sketch Virgil found online.”

“You’re doing the thing again,” Emile pointed out calmly.

“Stop psych evaluating me,” he shot back.

“Fine, fine,” Emile said. “Keep distracting yourself from your emotional responses with silly stories. See if I care.”

“Thank you,” Remy replied. “I will.”

Emile sighed as he started back up again mumbling something about having taken away Virgil’s Gameboy after catching him playing it at 3 o’clock in the morning. He claimed this wasn’t because the boy hadn’t gotten any sleep on a school night, but because he’d insulted Donkey Kong to Remy’s face. After that story had run its course, Remy continued to babble at an increasingly fast pace about all sorts of things. Emile imagined most of the stories he sprouted off were quite embellished.

Emile had tried to turn on the radio once, but Remy had slapped his hand away saying, “The next one’s a really good one.” So, he had resigned himself to his fate of tuning out Remy’s coping mechanism to the best of his abilities and just focusing on driving for the next 45 minutes. Which is probably why he noticed that traffic had strangely decreased. He didn’t really pay the fact that much mind until the traffic suddenly increased… in the form of a wall of stopped cars.

“Jenkies, what’s going on?” he asked, as he came to a stop at the end of the line of cars.

“Um…” Remy said looking out of his car window. There, staring into their car with beady black eyes was a cow. As Emile watched, said cow leaned forward to drag its tongue across the passenger side window. “Shit.”

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 14

[thirstforfleck]

I Had the Craziest Dream ~ Arthur Fleck x Reader

summary: arthur has a hard time convincing himself that you are real and not just in his head. a date with you proves otherwise

warnings: none? brief mentions of nudity

word count: 1,358

notes: finally finished this piece. the summary is really crappy, but I wasn’t quite sure what else to put. The ending is meh. I was inspired by the song “I Had the Craziest Dream” by Harry James and his Orchestra and vocals by Helen Forrest. Here’s the song if you want to listen to it. This is written with a female love interest in mind. I hope you enjoy :)

Arthur was convinced you weren’t real. He had visions of angels resembling you before you had even met. And yet, here you were.

Your hair was spread on your pillow like the sun’s rays. Your mouth slightly agape as you snoozed. Arthur found you most beautiful at your most vulnerable. You were reminiscent of a Renaissance marble sculpture: delicate and exquisite. A goddess, in simple terms. He had to resist the urge to kiss you. He didn’t want to wake you. Arthur grabbed his journal off the nightstand next to him. Perhaps he would sketch your soft, bare body bathing in the sunlight that shined through the curtains.

Flipping through his journal, Arthur glanced at his past entries and sketches. Dark words filled the majority of pages. Disturbing pornographic images, whether drawn by him or pasted from nudie magazines, were glued randomly throughout. The occasional black holes, made by repetitive anger-filled pen strokes, were found scribbled over top journal entries or a porn model’s face. As he got closer to a blank page, he spotted an entry titled ‘Beutiful Girl’. He smiled to himself. This was his first entry about you. 

You had met in the lobby downstairs months ago. You had just gotten off work, Arthur had guessed, and were standing in front of the elevator. Your arms were crossed in frustration, rightfully so. The building was dilapidated, built in ancient times it seemed. The elevator was taking longer than usual. You were tapping your foot impatiently. Your hair was tousled from the wind. Arthur waited alongside you.

You looked to him and shook your head. “Can you believe this place?” you said in disbelief. “I may have to start taking the stairs.”

Arthur couldn’t say much. He was struck by your beauty. Your limpid eyes were the first feature he noticed. Bright and clear, sparkling like daylights’ reflection on a calm body of water. Your lips looked plush, alluring. Arthur snapped himself out of his daydream and managed to croak out, “Yeah, it’s awful.”

Your heavenly lips formed a soft smile and Arthur’s heart skipped a beat. The ding of the elevator interrupted his thoughts. You both get on together, standing on opposite sides. “Which floor?” you asked, pressing the number 8.

“8,” Arthur said shyly.

“Hey, me too!” you grinned. “We’re practically neighbors.”

Arthur thought his heart would burst out of his chest. Someone was being polite to him, interacting with him positively. To Arthur, it didn’t seem like you were doing it just to be nice either. Your smile was unlike any other he had received in his life. The only word he could describe it was “warm”.

The doors opened to the 8th floor and you stepped out. You looked over your shoulder and made eye contact with Arthur. “See ya around, stranger,” you softly spoke with a wink.

“Bye,” Arthur spoke softly. You made a right down the hallway, and he made a left. He raced to his apartment with a pounding in his chest. He rushed to his journal after slamming the door shut. He flipped it open to the first empty page and began to write.

Beutiful Girl

I just met the most beutiful girl. I don’t no her name. All I no is that she is very nice and prety. She is the nicest person I hav met in a long time. She smild at me! And we liv on the same floor. I hope she is reel.

He saw you again, and again, and again. He found out what your name was. It was the prettiest name he had ever heard. You laughed at his jokes. You showed that you cared about his personal life. He didn’t know if his mind was playing tricks on him or if you were truly real. Someone as gorgeous and kind as you just didn’t exist, right?

He had his first dream about you. He barely slept, let alone had dreams. When he awoke, he rolled out of bed and scribbled in his journal.

I Had the Crazyest Dreem

Y/N was in my dreem. My first dream I’ve had in a long time. We wer dancing to Harry James and Glenn Miller. She smild at me. She playd with my hair. She was in love with me. I kissd her and she kissd me back. I want to kiss her so bad. I want to dance with her so bad. I still do not no if she is reel or not. If she is reel, I want to touch her and hold her and kiss her. How long must I wate until I no if she is reel? I hope my dreem comes tru. 

Arthur’s dream did indeed come true. He gained some much needed confidence and invited you to one of his gigs at Pogo’s. You accepted. You thought his jokes were sweet, mostly cheesy. Afterwards, he took you out to a diner. It was late, after midnight. You were one of the few couples still out and about on a Tuesday night. Arthur made you laugh some more with a few jokes he had hidden from his routine. 

You stared intensely at him, your eyes peering from above your cup of tea that touched your lips. He sucked on the end of his cigarette, his cheeks hollowing. His eyes met yours, a cloud of smoke leaving his lips. You reached your hand out and caressed his wrist that rested on the table. Arthur tensed up slightly, but eased when you stroked small circles into his worn skin. 

“Arthur, thank you for a great night. I’ve really enjoyed myself,” you smiled.

Arthur grinned, holding back the tears that almost brimmed his eyes. “I have too, Y/N.”

Walking back home, you held hands and shared sweet side glances. You made it back to your building on Anderson Avenue. You squeezed his hand as you rode the elevator together. His cheeks flushed pink and you smiled cheekily. Arthur walked you to your room first. You put his arms around him, resting your head on his shoulder. You could feel Arthur was hesitant on what to do. No one had ever hugged him before besides his mother on occasion. He rested his arms around your waist and pulled your chest flush against his. His cheek laid on the top of your head. 

He had been waiting for this moment. He could feel your body heat radiating, your heart beating softly. You breathed in the fresh scent of your hair. How wonderful it felt to finally hold you. 

“Arthur?” he heard you murmur from his shoulder.

“Yes?” he asked softly.

He felt your head move so he lifted his cheek. You gazed at him, your hands tracing his spine. “Can I… kiss you?” you asked him.

Arthur was speechless. You wanted to kiss him. To kiss you would make his day, his week, his year, his whole life. This would be his first kiss. That was something you hadn’t discovered yet. He was too embarrassed to tell you yet.

Arthur stammered. “Y-yeah. Y/N, y-you can kiss me whenever you want.”

You giggled, pursing your lips and planting them on his. His first instinct was to hold your face in his hands. His thumbs stroked your cheekbones as he kissed back. You hummed into the kiss, clearly enjoying yourself. Your fingers danced up his back and tangled into his hair. Arthur smiled as his lips brushed against yours. You broke away for air, your eyes still shut. You bit your bottom lip as you found his eyes. They were large and puppy-dog like, almost pleading with you to kiss him again. You granted his wish. 

A soft touch halted his memory. You were upright in bed now, brushing his hair away from the nape of his neck. “Good morning, darling,” you whispered, your hot breath giving him goosebumps. You peppered his neck in kisses. “What are you up to?”

Arthur closed the journal with a chuckle. “Just reading some old dreams I had.”

“Oh, yeah?” you enthused. “Do you have a favorite dream?”

Arthur’s gaze locked with yours. “You.”

lovelies who wanted to be tagged: @freewriterofdarkness​ @bring-your-holy-water​ @flowerglitterwoman​ @arthurflecksgirl​ @mr--clown​

[blahblahwritings]

Contracts and Captains. - IV

A/N: Remember how I posted something before one of my other fics saying that I had been consistently updating for weeks? Neither do I lmao who was she? Don’t know her anyway heres the fourth chapter of this black sails fic.

Words: 1823. Honestly I’ve been writing this since about 12pm I don’t know how its so short and its probably shit bc I haven’t written anything in months.

Warnings: Mentions of vomit as per the last chapter. Think thats it lmao. See you in three months.

As your eyes opened, there were a blissful couple of seconds where the previous night’s encounter didn’t exist in your memory. But, just like the sun flooding the room, unwanted flashes of vomit and slurred words rose like a tidal wave in your minds eye. You rolled over, burying your face and groaning into the pillow out of sheer embarrassment as a dull throbbing started in the depths of your skull. 

Why did you keep drinking? You could’ve simply had one or two before retiring for the night and you wouldn’t have met that boatswain or thrown up on your own boots. What was his name again? Ben? Boyd? No, they weren’t quite right. Either way you made a mental note to apologise again whenever you next saw him. 

Slowly, you tugged your still clothed limbs from the thin sheets, trying not to jostle your stomach too much for fear of whatever was left in there making an unwelcome appearance. Your pants were scuffed from where you took a tumble outside the tavern, your shirt was half undone, probably from a failed attempt to undress before not-so-gracefully falling into bed. A single boot was thrown on the floor alongside your coat, the other still stuck on your foot. What a mess. 

A hot bath, that's what you needed, and a hearty breakfast if your insides don’t bring it back up. Pulling on the other boot, you made your way to one of the girls working downstairs, trading her coin to fill the tub in your room. You must’ve looked rough as you passed her to get to the man at the bar because when he turned to look at you, his brows shot up, disappearing behind his hair. 

“You look like you could use a little hair of the dog, love.” He chuckled, eyes scanning your disheveled form. A grimace was your immediate response. “Some food then.” He offered, filling a bowl with something that you didn’t stop to look at as you practically inhaled it. The man watched you with a knowing smirk and had you not felt so terrible you’d have spat out a snarky comment. You chose to gulp down your water instead.

“Thank you.” You huffed with a small nod, tossing some money on the counter before you headed back upstairs. The state you were in just added to this morning's growing list of regrets but you weren’t quite sure if you cared how you looked to anyone else right now. All that was on your mind was a piercing headache and a good soak.

Stripping off, you stepped into the water, sinking down slowly as your body got used to the heat. Finally, with a heavy sigh, you rested your head on the back of the tub, your aching muscles beginning to relax. Scented oils and soaps were left on a stand by the bath. Working a generous amount between your palms, you massaged your limbs and torso getting rid of any tension and purging the memories of last night’s… festivities. In the quiet of your room, you took a moment to trace the small scars that littered your form, fingers landing at last on the freshly healed knife wound from only a few weeks ago. The soft pink flesh was still tender, and if you moved the wrong way it would ache. It was dangerous to be alone on this island, in this line of work. You needed friends, not just contacts. A crew, perhaps. 

Letting your mind wander, you thought about your new found place among Flint’s men. You had to keep bringing in leads to be of any value to him, lest you risk being tossed aside and left in the dirt. He and his crew were among the most revered on the island, therefore cementing your part in that would bring security. It would ensure that other crews would leave you alone, as you were important to someone they feared and the consequences of harming you could be severe. 

Then again, there was a little more than security on your list of perks as you thought more about the taller man from last night. He was kind to you, not that the others weren’t having bought your drinks and all, but, he made sure you were safe and fed. Billy Bones. You recalled. Replaying the meeting in your head, you winced at the slurred introduction and the puking soon after. Why did you care about how he saw you? Was it because he was the crew’s boatswain or because he was handsome and softer than most pirates you’d met. 

Catching that last thought, you shook it from your head, refusing to let it take root in your brain. Attachments like that are a weakness here and you cannot afford to have those. You’d only met the guy once and he probably didn’t want anything to do with you anyway, especially after that drunken show you gave him. Cupping a handful of water, you splashed your face, scrubbing any further thoughts of the man from your head, instead, choosing to focus on finding a new lead for Flint. 

They would be leaving to chase down the details you gave him yesterday in a couple of days, if not sooner, which meant you probably had around two weeks to find something of substance upon their return. You’d struggled last time but after sending out letters to old friends in neighbouring ports, you were hopeful something would turn up. 

Padding your way to the dresser, you pulled out some fresh clothes and got ready, feeling much better than you did even an hour before. The food had settled your stomach and the water you guzzled seemed to bring some life back into your face as when you left to go hunt down some work, the barman from earlier spouted something along the lines of ‘A whole other woman’ when you walked by.

---

An uneventful morning led to an uneventful afternoon. There were no new letters or leads and the streets were pleasantly calm compared to usual. You certainly weren’t complaining, you had been feeling better since this morning but your body was still recovering. The easy day was probably just what you needed. You were sat on the beach, sipping some water and watching passersby as you sketched in the journal you kept.

It was something you’d taken to keeping since arriving in Nassau just over two years ago. A small leather book to help keep track of potential jobs and record anything interesting that happened. Really, though, you just loved to draw. You’d already filled a couple just like it with sketches of people, ships and landscapes that caught your eye, often accompanied by your messy scrawl. You were just about satisfied with your latest addition when Mr Gates clapped you on the shoulder making you jump and slam the journal closed. You’d never shown anyone the contents before. 

“Sorry, Miss Devereux, didn’t mean to startle you.” He began, chuckling lightly at your reaction. “I heard you and the lads had quite the night..” He moved to stand by you as you got to your feet, dusting the sand from your pants. Tucking away the book, an amused smirk finds its way to your face as you look at him. 

“Depends on who you ask.” You replied. “How were they this morning? Feeling sorry for themselves?” Your brows raised in question as you both started aimlessly wandering along the shore. A snort met your ears as his head fell forwards, looking at the ground then back at you. “I didn’t see the majority of them until at least noon and they were still in a sorry state, although I wonder how you must’ve been. I heard that you hurled your guts up right after meeting our boatswain.” Gates mused, eyes crinkling as he watched your entire face turn a lovely shade of red. You tried to keep your cool but your expression faltered into one of sheer embarrassment. Apparently, this was hilarious as Mr Gates exploded into a fit of hearty laughter, and as much as you told him to stop you couldn’t help but have a good chuckle yourself as you covered your face with a half-sandy palm at the thought.

When you both regain your composure, he gives you a reassuring pat on the back.

“Don’t worry, the only people who know are Billy and myself, the men still think you can hold your drink.” He winked. You made a move to argue that you could in fact hold your drink but he began talking about the plan to set sail the day after tomorrow. You listened intently and explained that you were awaiting correspondence from friends in other ports to supply more promising leads upon their return. 

---

It had been four days since the crew left in search of another haul using your most recent information. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened, you’d made some money here and there through smaller jobs and pickpocketing but overall, there was nothing of real interest. You spent the days reading anything you could get your hands on or drawing and you’d even had your eye on some paints in one of the markets, but all you could do was wait. Checking for mail at the front desk of the inn you were staying at every morning had become a routine, desperate for any work or ships that you could relay to Flint. It was on the fifth day that you had gotten a response from someone in Port Royal.

As you read over the letter for the third time, you could feel your eyes widen in disbelief, your heart hammered in your chest and you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. This was far too good to be true. Surely this was a myth. A prize of this magnitude was simply unheard of. Your eyes scanned over the paper again, barely able to focus on the words because your hands were trembling so violently. Calm down. You told yourself. It can’t be the truth. You thought as you stared at the other envelope that had arrived alongside it. At the bottom of the letter it read:

“P.S

Should you doubt my information, I sent you the correspondence shared between the dead man and the merchant with evidence pertaining to this gold. Best not ask how it came into my possession.

Your dear friend,

Josiah.”

You ran to shut the windows to your room and close the drapes. If anyone found out you had this information and the evidence to go with it, you would surely be killed for it. Tearing open the paper, you unfolded its contents. It was all here. The initials of the merchant, R.P., details alluding to the existence of this gold and the name of the dead man involved in plotting the course it would be on. 

Vasquez.

[nearlymanaged]

4. Remus’ Secret

It had been a couple of weeks since Sirius had come out to his friends, but Moony still hadn’t flung himself into his arms, confessing unbridled attraction. If anything, he seemed more distant now. Almost as distant as he used to get every month before Sirius, James, and Peter found out about his furry little secret. They did have quite different schedules this year that sometimes caused them to not run into each other for half a day, but Remus’ strange coldness seemed to go beyond that.

Sirius was starting to feel a little hurt, thinking that maybe Remus wasn’t as okay with him being bisexual as he claimed, so he confronted him about it one evening in the common room. It turned out to be a rather anticlimactic exchange since Remus assured him, quite convincingly, that it was completely ridiculous of Sirius to even think that. He said he was simply tired all the time since they had come back to Hogwarts and then made some stupid joke about being ready for death to take him.

This particular evening he seemed perfectly energised and happy while doing homework with Evans in the corner of the common room. Sirius was sitting in one of the prime armchairs in front of the fireplace with James and Peter, and if he hadn’t been so preoccupied with repeatedly stealing glances at Moony and Evans, he would have seen that James was doing the same thing.

“Since when is Moony such good friends with Evans?” Peter unknowingly voiced what they were all thinking when the sound of Remus and Lily’s laughter filled the room momentarily.

“Nerd solidarity, I suppose,” Sirius mumbled, watching Remus push the sleeves of his jumper up, seemingly oblivious to how unexpectedly attractive that was.

“I never realised Ancient Runes homework was that much fun,” James mumbled, pouting slightly.

“Are you jealous, Prongs?” Sirius asked, a tickled grin spreading across his face.

“Aw, he is! Prongs is jealous!” Cackled Peter.

Just then, Remus walked over to them, still beaming. “Prongs is…” He glanced back at Lily over his shoulder. “Prongs is jealous?”

“No, I’m not,” James folded his arms over his chest, which didn’t help make his statement any more convincing.

“How curious,” Remus said brightly and made himself comfortable on the couch next to Peter while Sirius draped himself across the armchair, his head hanging off the side.

“D’you know what? I’m jealous too.” He looked over at Remus with a smirk.

“That’s messed up, Sirius. Lily’s the mother of James’ future children.”

“Who said anything about Evans?” Sirius locked eyes with Remus, that same smile still playing on his lips. For a second, Black thought he saw Moony blush, but he couldn’t tell whether it was just the flickering fire light playing tricks. Moony scrunched his eyebrows and turned away to point at the notice board.

“Did you lot see that? Hogsmeade dates have been posted.”

“Yeah, first one’s in a couple of weeks.” Peter nodded. “I’ve thought about this, and I think the best thing for me to do is ask Lydia if she wants to meet up in Three Broomsticks. Then she won’t feel like she has to spend the whole day with me...but if she wanted to, she could.”

“Wormtail.” Sirius impatiently propped himself back up. “Why wouldn’t she want to spend the day with you? You need to have more confidence, mate.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“No, it’s not. You think it was easy for me to listen to my dear mother list all the ways in which I’m a disappointment for years?”

“I didn’t mean--”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just saying, you can’t please everyone, but you can’t let that get to you. Lydia seems pretty interested in you, and even if it doesn’t work out in the end, well...c'est la vie,” Sirius ended his little pep talk with a shrug and Peter went back to his essay, looking slightly more bewildered than before.

“Anyway,” Remus enunciated slowly. “Perfect timing, I have just about enough chocolate to last me two weeks.”

* * *

The heavy clouds above the castle seemed to be turning a darker shade of grey every day, and the sixth years were becoming more and more stressed with every lesson. Now that Remus had positively become friends with Lily Evans, he was thanking his lucky stars for it. He strongly suspected he might have lost his mind without someone to do Ancient Runes homework with.

He also noticed that Lily didn’t mind being in James’ immediate vicinity as much anymore, and James in turn had halted his incessant hitting on her for the time being. Remus had also noticed that Sirius hadn’t been spotted snogging or asking anyone out in quite a while; in fact, it hadn’t happened once since the beginning of term. He couldn’t help but harbour a secret hope that it would go on indefinitely and then he wouldn’t have to pretend that seeing Sirius with someone else didn’t bother him.

Although realistically, he didn’t really count on that. Especially since Sirius had come out about being bisexual. That just meant that now Sirius could choose out of twice the amount of people who were more attractive than his boring old friend.

Still, Remus could not refrain from coming up with imaginary scenarios in his head, in which Sirius would ask him out or confess his feelings for him, or kiss him… Initially, completely against his own will, Remus let his hopes go up just a tiny bit (that’s when the daydreaming started in full force), so he started avoiding Padfoot as a means of self preservation. That hadn’t lasted very long though, because Sirius interpreted that as Remus having a problem with him and confronted him about it...

This particular morning, a few days before the Hogsmeade trip, saw the castle brutally whipped by ice-cold rain. It was looking like their Saturday was going to be spent sipping butterbeer indoors instead of wandering around the village.

“You’ve got jam on your face, did you know?” Sirius grabbed a napkin without missing a beat, leaned over the breakfast-laden table, and dabbed the corner of Remus’ mouth. “There you go, skip along now, my love.”

Remus, who had just announced that he needed to leave to make it to Ancient Runes on time, felt his ears go ablaze, the colour spreading to his cheeks. He wasn’t sure why it startled him so much. Surely, Sirius would have done the same to either James or Peter, wouldn’t he have? That was just how he was. “Right,” Remus cleared his throat, gathering his composure. “I’ll see you lot at lunch then.”

“Wait up, Lupin!” Lily caught up with him in the middle of the entrance hall. “So I’ve noticed…” She began brightly, yet hesitantly but then trailed off. “Are...are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, what do you mean…” Remus tried to sound normal, very aware that he was still blushing. “What have you noticed?”

“Nothing. How did you get on with the Einang stone essay?”

They talked about their homework all the way to the sixth floor, but Remus couldn’t shake off the feeling that Lily was going to say something about the scene at breakfast. He wasn’t even sure that Peter and James had noticed it, but he had gathered by now that Lily was a lot more perceptive than most people. Plus, she kept giving him strange looks all throughout the Ancient Runes lesson and then it continued on the very windy grounds (it had stopped raining), during Care of Magical Creatures.

“Obviously, you don’t need to answer if you don’t want to, but...” Lily began, her voice ever so gentle, while they were making detailed sketches of fwoopers with notes about all their magical properties. “But can I ask you something personal?”

“You can ask, yes.”

“Do you like boys?”

Remus stared at her with a mixture of surprise and horror, until he felt a sharp pain in his hand - he had squeezed the little bird he was using for reference so tightly that it pecked at his flesh angrily. “Why-- Why do you ask?” He tried to sound politely surprised as he shook his hand in the air.

“Please don’t get upset with me,” Lily was gazing at him tentatively with her brow furrowed now. “I’ve noticed a while ago now, sometime last year… And then lately, since you and I... I couldn’t help it, really. I’ve seen the way you look at him, when you think that no one’s watching…”

Remus felt a strange mixture of his heart sinking and feel lighter all at once. Now that someone else knew, it felt like that would make it easier to carry this secret around, somehow. He blankly stared at his half finished sketch for a moment before speaking in a low, determined voice. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“You have my word.”

“Not that it matters anyway,” he added before he could stop himself.

“How do you mean? Is it because you’ve been friends for so long?”

“Well that too, but… I mean, look at me,” he laughed out uncomfortably rather with a roll of his eyes.

“Yes, I am…?”

“I’m about as exciting as Binns’ lessons, with a sweet bonus of ugly scars.”

Remus was surprised by how open he was with Lily. Curiously, it was really easy to talk to her about it. He’d shared so many secrets, confessions, and pains with his three friends, that sometimes he felt like he had maxed out, like he didn’t want to trouble them with any more of his problems. But it was different with Lily, perhaps because they were just becoming friends.

“I don’t think that about you at all, if you care to know,” she informed him, a strange spark lighting up her eyes. “I’ve grown to like you a lot lately and I can objectively say that you are tenfold better than what you seem to think about yourself.”

“You’re only saying that because you thought my friends and I were enormous pricks for years,” Remus smirked at her, feeling his heart grow to twice its size in his chest. “That’s a low bar.”

“Thought?” Lily grinned devilishly, making them both laugh. “Seriously, the more I’m getting to know you, the more I feel like maybe your friends can’t be all that awful after all. You are a beautiful person, Remus. You are!” She added when he rolled his eyes again.

“Sure, Evans.”

“I’ve heard he’s into boys too.” Lily ignored Lupin’s retort and then her face split into an excited smile.

Remus rolled his eyes once more… And yet, he couldn’t help but feel happier and lighter for the rest of the day, even when it started raining again towards the end of Cary of Magical Creatures.