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carryonmywaywardcaptain · 4 years ago

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Miles of Memories- 1

We’ve Got Tonight- Bob Seger

Miles of Memories Masterlist CarryOnCap’s Masterlist

Dean x reader Best Friends to Lovers AU

Summary: Feeling anxious about heading off to college, you make the most of your last night in town with the help of your best friend, Dean.

Warnings: fluffy, adorable Dean and fun banter. Slight angst (goodbyes are hard). Minor mentions of childhood trauma

WC: 2,900

A/N: This part is like a “prelude” to give you a glimpse of Y/N and Dean’s relationship (5 years before the main storyline). I hope you stay tuned for the slowest of Dean x fem!reader slowburns. I’m so excited to share this story, so please let me know what you think! MASSIVE thanks to my spectacular and badass beta crew—@christopher-evxns @deanwinchesterswitch @ezilyamuzed & @wonder-cole—for all of their help and input!! I edited even after their feedback, so all mistakes are my own. Credit to Bob Seger for the song :)

Zipping your suitcase closed with a heavy sigh, you worked through your mental checklist for the hundredth time to make sure you hadn’t forgotten to pack anything.

“Jeez, you act like it’s the last time you’ll ever see this place or something.” With a smile and a roll of your eyes, you turned to see Dean leaning casually against your doorframe. “Y’know, I figured I’d talk to Bobby about renting this space out anyway. Save you the stress of missing it while you’re gone because it’ll look completely different the next time you come back.”

“I’m not too worried. I think you’re the last person Bobby would trust with anything—let alone a space in his house.”

Dean grinned, pushing off the doorframe to mosey into your room. “See, normally I’d agree with you. But it just so happens that he gave me my very own key to the garage, so I think he’s coming around. This ready?” He pointed at the suitcase on your bed, and you nodded.

“Riiight. I’m supposed to believe that Bobby would actually give you a key to come and go at the shop anytime you want.”

Dean shrugged, spinning on his heel with your bag in hand. “Guess he’s looking for a new favorite since you’re skipping town to go be successful out in the real world.”

You snorted and shook your head, silently following him to the door. He stepped out of the way, placing his free hand on the doorknob as you scanned the bedroom one last time. Gnawing your bottom lip, you sucked in a deep breath and tried to alleviate some of the tightness in your chest.

This room had been a safe haven for most of your life, and it was hard to remember the days before you called it “home.” Your mother had passed away when you were a toddler, and your father was a drunk, in and out of jail and your life until one day he didn’t come back. Bobby had often been the one who took care of you when your father needed to pass you off onto someone else.

You didn’t remember much about the “Travelin’ Man” (as Bobby not-so-lovingly referred to him on the rare occasions he was mentioned), but you could easily recall the night Bobby told you this would be your room for good. The relief and excitement you’d felt upon learning you’d have a space of your own were still vivid. Knowing you had a place you could always return to provided a sense of stability and consistency you’d never known.

Bobby may not have been your father by blood, but he was your dad in every sense of the word. Sure, he was a little rough around the edges and tended to be a hermit, but he also had a heart of gold, and not once had he ever made you question whether he cared about you.

A few weeks after settling into your new home, you had met Jessica and Sam during recess at your new elementary school. Although they were a grade younger, you’d instantly hit it off with them. Jess and Sam had always been there for you over the years, too, willing to lend an ear or make time for movie nights and spontaneous trips to the diner. Eventually, Sam had introduced you to Dean, and the two of you had been inseparable ever since. Each and every memory you had growing up involved at least one (if not all three) of them. But while it was difficult saying goodbye to everyone in general...you still hadn’t been able to grasp the idea of saying goodbye to Dean.

Dean was the one who had been by your side through everything. From heartfelt life chats and your deepest moments of self-doubt to car ride sing-alongs and your loudest belly laughs. He was always there to comfort you, remind you not to take things so seriously, and even drag you into trouble once in a while.

The thought of leaving him and your safe, familiar home brought yet another wave of apprehension and doubt. What if you were making a huge mistake?

“Y/N...” Dean’s gentle voice coaxed you back to reality. “We’ve still got a lot to pack into our night, so don’t go checking out on me yet.”

Without looking back, you slipped past Dean and heard him shut the door as you made your way downstairs.

“You know, this wouldn’t be so hard if you would’ve just applied like I told you to. Then we could both be going off to college together, and you’d find out what an honor it would be to have me as a roomie.”

“Okay, well, let me remind you that you’re the one who decided to go ‘see what’s out there’ and get a fancy college degree under her belt. And, even if we did survive being roommates without making the other want to pull their hair out, there’s no way in hell that town would be able to handle both of us.”

“That’s fair.”

“Besides, I won’t have much of a chance to miss you. You’ll probably flunk out and be back here by the end of the semester anyway.”

“Also fair,” you laughed. “Taking a year off to work at The Roadhouse and pretend to get my life together seemed like a good idea at the time, but I’m a little worried about getting into the groove of studying and all that crap again.”

“You know, if you need help, all you gotta do is pick up the phone. I mean, Sammy’s a real bookworm, and he’s only a phone call away.” Dean winked as he held the front door open and motioned for you to lead the way.

Sticking your tongue in your cheek, you fought to hide your amusement at the way he threw his brother under the bus. Before you made it through the door, you whirled around toward the stairs again. “Dang it. I forgot my bathroom bag. Do you mind tossing that one in the car? I’ll be right back!”

“Another bag? Where are you gonna put all this crap?” he muttered.

After retrieving the pouch from the bathroom upstairs and making sure you hadn’t left any necessary items in the drawers and cabinets, you hurried outside to find Dean patiently waiting beside your car. You tossed the small bag and he caught it with ease, pitching it in the backseat before closing the door.

“And done. Any last-minute stops to make along the way?” he asked.

“Nope. I caught Ellen, Jo, and Jody at the end of my shift yesterday, and Charlie was over for a bit this morning. And, you know, Sam and Jess ditched us for California last weekend. That means you and Bobby are the only two left to put up with me until I leave in the morning.”

When your voice cracked unexpectedly, you cleared your throat and surveyed the scrapyard until the faint prick in the corners of your eyes faded. As your departure drew near and you considered everything you were leaving behind, venturing out into the world was quickly beginning to feel more daunting than exciting.

“Hey…” Dean gripped the tops of your arms, stirring you from your thoughts. “We’ve got tonight. Who needs tomorrow? We’ve got tonight...babe. Why don’t you staaaaaaaayy—”

You had thought he was going to say something sweet and comforting, but you playfully shoved him in the chest when you realized he was speaking in Bob Seger lyrics. He stumbled back a step, laughing as he walked around the front of the impala and climbed inside.

***

There was an old park on the outskirts of town where Bobby and John would occasionally drop you both off when they had errands to run. As the years passed, you began riding your bikes the few miles across town, taking turns balancing Sam on your handlebars until Dean was old enough to drive. Eventually, Sam stopped tagging along, but somewhere along the way the park became a place you and Dean cherished.

A large pond stretched across most of the area, and there was a stately willow tree near the water’s edge that served as your designated “spot.” It was a hideaway often overlooked by others, but it was the perfect escape when the two of you needed a place that was all your own.

��Alright.” Dean plopped down beside you on the blanket. “You’ve got your grub, an amazing view, and the best company you could ever ask for. What else could you possibly want?”

“You’re right. Baby’s good company and all, but she’s not much of a conversationalist.”

Dean grimaced. “Just for that, I might eat your food.”

“Depending on what it is, I might let you.”

He smirked and unrolled the brown paper sack in his hand. “PB&J’s, just like Mom used to make! I asked if she could whip up a few before she flew out to make sure Sam got all settled at Stanford. She said to tell you she’s sorry she couldn’t catch you and to wish you good luck. This seemed like a, uh, better idea at the time...now that it’s been a couple of days, these might taste like shit.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you took the sandwich Dean offered. “We’ve probably eaten worse, but I appreciate the sentimental twist. Seeing as how you’re in your 20’s and you had your mom make us sandwiches.”

“Hey, I was going for authenticity! Trying to help you feel like a kid again before you start adulting or whatever and—you know what? Just shut up and eat your food.”

The two of you unwrapped your sandwiches and continued bantering back and forth between bites. Even though the bread was soggy from marinating in jelly for a few days, and it certainly wasn’t the best thing you’d ever eaten, it brought back a flood of nostalgia.

When a comfortable silence fell over the two of you, your thoughts began to drift to dozens of adventures you and Dean had had here. You gazed out over the water, watching the willow branches graze the surface as they gently swayed in the breeze. You tried to commit every detail to memory as you soaked in the peaceful atmosphere, not knowing how long it would be until you returned.

After a while, Dean chuckled under his breath, and you looked at him curiously.

“You remember that day we were pretending to be pirates, and Dad ended up coming to pick us up early?”

“Of course.”

“Man, he was so pissed when he saw us standing on top of that picnic table we managed to drag out and ‘sail’ into the middle of the pond. Sure made an awesome ship, though.”

You smiled at the memory, though it was anything but funny at the time. “I think he was a little more pissed at the fact that we left Sam playing alone in the gazebo. And obviously what made the ‘ship’ great was the pirate flag I made.”

“Uh-huh,” Dean snorted. “You mean the crappy skull you drew on our lunch bag and stuck on the end of a stick? Pretty sure we were having a blast with the ship because it was my brilliant idea in the first place.”

“I was like 8, and it was still better than anything you could’ve drawn.” You crumpled up your trash and threw it at him. “And I was having fun--right up until you pushed me off anyway. I nearly choked to death on all that nasty water I sucked in.”

“Okay, well, you shouldn’t have been trying to be Captain when I’m the oldest, and it was clearly my title to begin with. There was no plank to walk, but obviously, you had to go overboard.”

He grinned, keeping his gaze fixed on the water. As you studied his face and noticed the faraway look in his eye, his smile faded. You figured his thoughts had drifted back to his dad, who had passed away a couple of years later.

“I felt so damn bad, though. I really was afraid you were gonna drown. And Bobby was ready to kill me when he found out.”

“Lucky for you, you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

The two of you joked and reminisced for several more hours, eventually watching the sun set over the water until it sank below the horizon. When it was time to head back to Bobby’s, Dean took the long way home so you could crank the radio and sing along with your hand hanging lazily out the open window. Back at the house, you sat on the kitchen counter and talked with both men until Bobby finally bid you goodnight--but you still weren’t ready to call it a night, knowing morning would come soon and it would be time for you to leave.

After convincing Dean to stay a little longer, you grabbed a couple of old blankets and spread them in the bed of one of the pickup trucks near the house. With your head on his chest and your body tucked comfortably against his side, you chatted beneath the stars until you drifted off to sleep.

***

“Got everything all packed up?” Bobby asked.

“I think so,” you answered.

“Better double-check because I’m not driving a few hours just to bring you a lost shoe or something.”

“Is that a challenge?” you teased, seeing right through his gruff quip. “Because I bet I could talk you into it. We both know you’re not gonna know what to do without me.”

He frowned a little before smiling fondly, and you could’ve sworn there was a misty glaze in his eyes.

“Yeah. I s’pose you’re right.”

“Oh, don’t get all sentimental on me now. You could probably use a little break. Besides, I’ll be back so often you’ll just get sick of me all over again.”

“C’mere, kid.”

Bobby reached out and pulled you into a hug. Much too soon, he let go and stepped aside so you could say goodbye to Dean. His soft green eyes had been fixed on you, but he glanced away and clenched his jaw when you took a step toward him.

“So, uh...don’t forget about us when you make it big out there in the real world—catch a break as an artist or an author or some music critic.”

“Yeah, okay,” you scoffed. “I haven’t even picked out a major yet, but I think I have an advisor who can help me figure out a good fit...eventually. Maybe I’ll be a doctor—or follow in Sam’s footsteps and be a lawyer!”

“There you go. Why not just do it all while you’re at it? Jack of all trades, master of none. Whatever you end up doing, you better come back to visit soon.”

“You got it. Try not to turn into a grumpy old man while I’m gone.”

He shook his head, cracking a smile as he met your eyes. “Only a couple years older than you, brat. Anyway, I didn’t get a whole lot of sleep last night, so I made you a playlist for the drive. Figured I might as well do something useful while I was awake. I sent it to you while you were getting ready.”

Pulling out your phone, you found a message already waiting with a link to the playlist.

“This is awesome, Dean, thank you. But if it ends up being six hours of nothing but Zeppelin, I’m gonna be pissed.”

He tossed his head back and laughed, making the knot in your throat grow once again at the thought of not seeing him almost every day. You couldn’t help but wonder if he’d miss you as much as you were going to miss him.

“Don’t worry; I think it ended up being a decent mix. Not too many classics and not too much of the more modern crap. There was, uh... a certain thought process behind each song, let’s just say that.”

“We all know some of that modern crap is a guilty pleasure of yours. I mean, Taylor Swift?”

“Yeah…” His gaze lingered until his grin faded to a sad smile. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you leaned forward and threw an arm around each man. Squeezing your eyes closed, you hugged them tight.

“All joking aside...you got nothing to worry about. You’re gonna kick this college thing in the ass,” Dean murmured.

“Thank you.”

Clearing your throat, you slipped out of their embrace and quickly made your way to the car.

“Drive safe--and call when you get there!” Bobby hollered.

Stealing one last glimpse over your shoulder, you waved and slid behind the wheel. You hit shuffle on the playlist, letting the music fill the vehicle while you fasten your seatbelt.

I know it’s late

I know you’re weary

I know your plans don’t include me...

You shook your head and smiled, blinking back tears at the irony of the song—the lyrics perfectly encapsulating your night with Dean.

Look at the stars so far away

We’ve got tonight

Who needs tomorrow?

We’ve got tonight, babe

Why don’t you stay?

As you started the car and drove away, seeing him and Bobby grow smaller in the rearview mirror, you finally began to cry.

Part 2

CarryOnCap Crew (Forevers):

@abswritesfandoms @amanda-teaches @cosicas-cuquis @crist1216 @droidyouseek @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008 @flawless-disaster @janeyboo @jenn0755 @ksgeekgirl @maresmiley @memyselfandmaddox @notyourtypicalrose @randomparanoid @rynabarnesrogers @sandlee44 @scarletsoldierrr @shann-the-artist-moon @sheerioasteroidpanda @shynara51 @someday-when-you-leave-me @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @thisismysecrethappyplace @torntaltos @waywardbaby @waywardrose13 @weebid @whimsicalrobots @wintersoldierbaby @yesfanficsaremylife

Cap’s SPN Crew:

@adoptdontshoppets @akshi8278 @alexwinchester23 @chevyharvelle @deangirl7695 @dean-winchesters-bacon @fandomoniumflurry @pisces-cutie @supernaturalenchanted @superromijn @thoughts-and-funnies @waywardnerd67 @x-waywardaf-x

Miles of Mems Tags:

@bobbie3939 @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @mlovesstories @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @valsworldofcreativity

Also tagging those of you who seemed interested when I posted the masterlist. I don’t want to pester you, so I probably won’t tag you in future parts unless you let me know that you’d like to be tagged!

@badlittlehabit99 @cajunquandary @devvoon @flamencodiva @hybrid-in-the-making @impalackless @janicho88 @themoonblooms

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the-edge-of-great · 4 years ago

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(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ JATP WEEK - DAY ONE: FAVORITE CHARACTER(S) ♥

(i don’t have one favorite character, so i wrote something from different POVs of my main five :)) @jatp-week

also i forgot ghosts don’t sleep. we’re pretending like they do today

––––––

FLYNN

“Flynn, no pressure, but I’m performing tonight,” Julie says while Flynn is dipping her brush into the black paint. “So, you know, make me look pretty.”

Flynn gasps, almost jerking her hand when she looks back at Julie. Julie catches her wrist before she can fling paint everywhere. “You didn’t tell me you were performing tonight!” She pauses, looking over her current progress. “Now I’m nervous.”

“I have total faith in you.” Julie’s eyes dart between the paint brush and Flynn. “But show me how it looks so far?”

Pursing her lips, Flynn shakes her head, grabs Julie’s shoulder, and aims the paintbrush at her cheek. “No way. You didn’t let me see until you were finished.”

“But—” Julie freezes when the brush touches the corner of her mouth, and her eyes quickly move to something behind Flynn. Her lips begin to twitch into a smile.

“Hey, hey!” Flynn cries. “No moving.”

“The guys are confused.”

“I’ll explain. You stay quiet.” Flynn gives her a second to stop laughing before continuing the delicate line she’s trying to curve across her cheek. She takes it slow—agonizingly, if Julie’s eyes are anything to go by. “So,” Flynn begins loudly to the dense air around her, “we’re getting ready for Day of the Dead, which is a holiday Julie’s family celebrates. I’m trying to draw a sugar skull design on her, like she did for me.”

Julie has always been the residential sugar skull designer in the house. She always drew Carlos’ face, her mom’s, and Flynn and Carrie’s. Usually, she does herself too, but this is their first Day of the Dead without her mom, so Flynn has decided to take the paintbrush into her own hands and surprise Julie with something beautiful—or try to, anyway.

Flynn’s face looks awesome. Julie painted only half in white with a fissured edge down the center of her face. From her eyebrow to her cheekbone, her eye is circled in green and lined with black. Half of Flynn’s mouth stretching to the middle of her cheek has been transformed into skeletal teeth with a vibrant green glow. Her dimple has layers upon layers of dark and light green paint, carefully blended to look like a real skull indentation. Small black circles line the top of her eyebrow, and thin black lines curve across the empty space of her cheek.

For Julie, Flynn is going for a more simplistic look—all of the drawing talent in the friendship seems to have been swallowed up by Julie. Right now, she’s focused on a curved black mouth stretching from one ear to another, adding extra detail to her lips to create a stitched effect, and then? She’ll figure it out from there.

“And I’m not taking any opinions from them,” Flynn declares. She holds her breath until the second line finally meets her ear and she’s finished with the mouth base. “They’re probably biased.”

Julie smiles as Flynn grabs her paint cup. “Actually, Alex says he likes what you’re doing so far.”

“… I’m only taking feedback from Alex.”

Julie laughs. Flynn can’t fight back her smile. “Reggie and Luke like it too,” she adds, smiling up at the space behind the couch. “They think I look scary.”

“How do I look?” Flynn asks, brushing her hair out of her face and looking up at the air, as if she can really see them. She wishes she could.

“They say you look amazing,” Julie translates. “I did that, by the way, so thank you.” She grins at them. Someone must reach for a fist bump, cause she moves her fist across the couch.

“Okay, if you’re going to stay, you can’t make her laugh.” Flynn leans forward, carefully painting over the tip of her nose. “She has a performance tonight, and if I mess up, you can’t fix it. I forbid it.”

“No—” Julie whines.

“You knew the risks when you agreed to let me do this!”

“You didn’t give me a choice!”

Flynn smacks her. “Stop smiling!” But she’s grinning too. It’s hard—how can you look at your best friend and not smile? Flynn waves a hand between them. “Okay, okay, we have to get this done. My hand is tired.”

Julie chuckles. “Okay.” She glances to her left. “No, I didn’t tell anyone I’m performing tonight. It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Then why’d you tell me?” Flynn demands.

“To make sure you don’t make me look bad!”

Flynn scoffs. Her finger lifts Julie’s chin to make their eyes meet. “Girl, it’ll take a lot of paint to make you look bad.”

Julie grins.

“And Luke better not have said something equally as cute just then.”

“No—” Julie says it like the idea is overly ridiculous, and Flynn wants to roll her eyes. “Of course not.”

“Mmhm. Hold still.”

Julie and Luke are dating. Flynn isn’t sure how that works—him being a ghost and everything—but Julie makes it make sense. And what can Flynn say? As long as Julie’s happy…

Forty-five minutes later, she sits back with a sigh to admire her work. One of the guys poofed into Julie’s room to grab her makeup bag, so Julie’s eyes are shining with pink and purple eyeshadow to match the pink patch surrounding her right eye. Flynn finished Julie’s eye with a thin black ring and pink and purple circles curved halfway around the top and bottom of her eye. Her nose is black—Flynn’s sure she’ll add more detail in her room later. Then Flynn will complain that she messed with a masterpiece, even though she’ll love whatever additions Julie draws in.

“Wow, okay,” Julie says, looking at herself in her phone’s camera. “This looks so good. Way to pop off, Flynn.”

Flynn waves herself. “Thank you, thank you. It’s my hidden talent.”

Julie grins over her phone. They share a beat of silence before bursting into laughter. Julie leans forward, throwing an arm around Flynn’s shoulders and holding her phone above their heads. They take bursts of pictures, some serious, most silly. They play with Snapchat filters, film TikToks. It’s fun—Day of the Dead is always fun. Especially this year: the year Julie found her music again.

–––––

LUKE

He knocks before entering her room. As he passes through the door, he can hear Flynn and Carlos arguing about what color icing should go on the cupcakes. Alex and Reggie are down there too; he hopes Alex doesn’t let Reggie do anything crazy tonight.

Julie’s sitting in front of her mirror, humming and painting over her eye. She glances at him as she walks in.

Luke chuckles. “Flynn’s not going to be happy you’re changing her design.” He pulls her desk chair over and takes a seat next to her.

“I’m not changing it.” Julie dips her brush into pink paint. “I’m just… adding some stuff. I had an idea.”

“Flowers?”

“Dahlias.” She side eyes him and smiles. “My mom loved dahlias.” She balances her palette on her knees, steadying it with one hand while leaning forward to paint a second flower at the corner of her eyebrow.

“Here,” Luke offers, reaching under her arm to grab the paint. He holds the palette next to her, and when she reaches over to dip her brush, she smiles in thanks. “So, what exactly is Day of the Dead?”

“First of all, it’s usually pronounced Día de los Muertos,” she begins. Oh God, he loves when she speaks Spanish. “It’s a three day festival where we celebrate the lives of those we’ve lost. My dad’s side is coming over—we always celebrate with the Molinas. My mom was Puerto Rican; they don’t really observe this holiday. But she celebrated with my dad when they first started dating, and she fell in love with the holiday.”

“What’s so great about it?”

Julie waves a hand at her face. “The makeup. The costumes. The music, dancing, food… Just having family around. Being completely immersed in our culture.” She shrugs at him. “We speak Spanish sometimes around the house, but it’s my grandparents’ first language. They had to learn English when they first came to America, but they prefer Spanish.”

“Where’d they come from?”

“Panama.” Julie pauses, carefully painting leaves around the base of her dahlia. “My grandparents have ofrendas set up at their house—ofrendas are altars where we leave offerings for those who have passed. Tonight, we’re going to the cemetery to visit Mom’s grave.”

He notices the way she falters when she mentions her mom. He hates when that happens; always wants to kiss away the sadness. When Julie puts down her paintbrush, he takes her hand in his.

“Hey,” he whispers, running his thumb over her knuckles.

Julie takes a deep breath. “We didn’t celebrate last year; it was too close to Mom passing away.” She shrugs. “We didn’t have it in us.”

“This is your first year without her,” Luke realizes quietly.

“We have an ofrenda downstairs for her. Dad and Carlos did most of it. I was supposed to find some stuff in the studio, but—” She shakes her head. “It’s just weird. This was her favorite holiday, and now she’s—” Julie rolls her eyes. “I know it’s been a year, but—”

“Hey,” Luke interrupts. He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers linger against her skin, cupping her cheek, mindful of the paint. “This is your first year without her. It’s okay to still be sad, Jules.”

Julie’s next breath is shaky; her eyes are glossy as she looks away. “Can’t cry,” she mumbles, shaking her head. “Flynn will kill me.”

Luke laughs. Behind him, he hears the whoosh of Alex and Reggie poofing in her room. Julie smiles weakly at them.

“Were we interrupting?” Reggie asks, raising his eyebrows knowingly.

Alex shakes his head. “Sorry. He kept stealing Flynn’s cupcakes to give to Carlos, and I knew he’d either scare your tía or Flynn would hit him with a spatula if we didn’t get out of there.”

“Carlos deserved to win—”

Julie laughs out loud. She wipes at her eyes carefully; Luke hopes she’s forgotten her grief for now. Luke grins at her. He loves her laugh. Have I mentioned he’s kinda just in love with her?

“We have a little bit before my family arrives,” Julie says, checking her phone. She tugs her lip between her teeth. “And I have extra paint…?”

Reggie bounces on his feet. “Yes!” he cries. “I want a face painting!”

As soon as Luke steps away from the chair, Reggie is there, knees bumping against Julie’s. “Make me look cool.”

Alex lays across her bed, resting his chin in his hands as he watches them. Luke hands the palette to Julie and steps out of her way. While she works on pouring more paint out, he dips his head and presses a soft kiss to her hair. Then he takes a seat next to Alex.

Luke grins. “I want next!”

–––––

REGGIE

He knows the party is really in full swing when the sugar skulls are beginning to set in and the children running around are almost as loud as Julie’s cousins playing music in the living room. Carlos’ real teeth are black; they match the set Julie painted on him. It looks a little creepy; his tía Victoria demands he go brush every time he grins at her in passing.

Reggie ducks past people as if they won’t pass through him; it’s still weird to him, and he knows they feel the same way. At some point, he was separated from his friends. He sees Luke and Julie every now and then—Julie’s making her rounds with her family, and Luke is by her side, always—but he hasn’t seen Alex in a while. He wonders, in the back of his mind, if Alex is even still around. Would he leave a party? He’s done it before. If there’s a chance he can hangout with Willie? No doubt. But would he leave Julie’s party to hangout with Willie? Hm… nah.

His favorite thing, he thinks as he walks through the house, is the atmosphere. There are so many people around—and most are Ray’s siblings! Julie mentioned in the middle of face painting that Latino families are often big, but he wasn’t expecting this! He loves it, though. Sometimes he lingers in a room before moving on, and he hears stories about Ray from his siblings: childhood mishaps and teenage antics.

And with so many siblings comes cousins. They range in age, from Carlos’ to Reggie’s. He overhears Carlos tell the other kids about the ghosts that haunt their house—Reggie leaves with a personal promise to prove him right later.

On his second walk through the living room, he finally spots his friends: Alex is sitting on the arm of the couch next to Flynn with Luke next to him. Julie stands beside an older man with a long beard and a guitar on his lap. Just as Reggie’s about to cross the room to them, something catches his eye.

It’s a shelf to his left, spotted with candles, photos, and flowers. He steps closer, curious. There’s a picture of Julie’s mom in a frame on top, he thinks. She looks�� familiar. On the first shelf down is a pair of drumsticks and guitar picks. Reggie frowns. Why are there… drumsticks? He reaches for them. They couldn’t be Alex’s… could they? Why would his drumsticks be—

“I told you our house is haunted!” Carlos cries, and that’s when Reggie notices how quiet everything is suddenly. The drumsticks bounce against his fingers and roll back against the shelf wall.

“Reggie,” Alex hisses behind him.

“Dude, your drumsticks are up here!” Reggie cries.

“My—What?”

Julie moves when no one else does. She’s not looking at Reggie, but he begins apologizing anyway, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare everyone.”

“It’s okay,” she says quietly, reaching for the sticks. “Whose are…?”

“I found them in a box of your mother’s things in the studio,” Ray explains, walking over.

Reggie throws a knowing look at Alex. Alex frowns and summons his drumsticks. They appear in his hand in a flash, and when Reggie turns back, there’s still a pair in Julie’s hand.

“Oh,” she says. “I didn’t know she played.”

Ray chuckles. “Your mother played every instrument she could. Now, there’s a difference in playing and actually sounding good… Drumming is not something she excelled at.”

This earns a round of laughter from their family. From Julie, who’s beaming under her makeup at the new information. From Alex, who adds a “If that isn’t a mood” under his breath.

“What—” Luke argues. “Dude, you’re literally a drummer.”

“I make it look easy.”

Luke rolls his eyes.

“The guitar picks are hers too,” Ray adds, pushing them into his hand. “Look, they have the logos from each of the bands she was in.”

Julie looks them over. “I’m sorry.” She shakes her head. “I should’ve grabbed these from the studio. You told me to find things for her ofrenda, but I—”

“Hey, it’s okay mija,” Ray interrupts. He squeezes her shoulder. “It was actually fun going through her old stuff again. I, personally, haven’t seen these in years.”

Reggie realizes he’s smiling long before Julie finds her strength again. He loves the father-daughter moments they have, even though he has a nagging feeling that he should be over by Luke and Alex and not intruding. Their relationship is addicting, though. He’s never had that with his father.

Maybe… that’s a can of worms to open on another day.

“Speaking of talent,” the man with the guitar says, “Julie? Cantar para nosotros?”

Reggie doesn’t know what he said, but Julie does. She nods. As they part ways—Ray moving past to fix the ofrenda, Reggie walking toward his friends, and Julie heading for the front of the room—Reggie squeezes Julie’s shoulder in passing. They share a quick smile.

“Good luck,” he says. She can’t respond, but he knows her smile is for him.

–––––

ALEX

Alex has never experienced this type of music live. They have a whole band up there—two guitarists, a woman sitting on a cajón box, and Julie with vocals in the center.

“And now you see Julie’s other band,” Flynn whispers to them. “The Molinas.”

The song begins softly. Alex can’t understand anything Julie’s singing, but he doesn’t have to know the words to hear her voice. As the beat picks up, so does her volume. He can see the moment she loses herself completely to the music; it’s the same at their own concerts: her eyes squeezing shut, one hand pressed in front of her and the other at her side. She can’t stand still, either. Julie steps over her younger siblings sitting on the ground carefully, but she’s bouncing on the soles of her feet. The music’s contagious—by the time she’s danced around the room and made it back to where she started, the whole room is clapping on beat. They’re grinning at each other, some singing along, some cheering.

Alex can’t fight a smile. It’s impossible. He looks at Luke and Reggie—they mirror him. The energy Julie and her family has created is infectious, as music should be; even if he still doesn’t know what she’s saying.

Julie ends the song on her own with a stretched out note, instruments falling away with each beat she holds in a breath he can’t believe is possible. Everyone watches with bated breath, anticipation, building excitement for this girl. Julie Molina—Alex shakes his head in disbelief. What a damn star.

Flynn leaps to her feet when Julie finally takes a breath. “WOO!” she shouts. “Go off girl!”

Alex finds himself laughing when the room erupts into cheers. Luke is practically vibrating with excitement. Reggie shouts with Flynn.

Julie takes a bow, shoulders bouncing with quickened breath and eyes shining under the dark makeup.

Flynn yanks her into a tight hug. “Oh my gosh, that was incredible!” she cries.

“Seriously,” Alex agrees. “You killed it.” He fist bumps her, hidden from the rest of the room in front of Flynn.

“I have no idea what you said, but it was beautiful,” Reggie adds, starstruck.

Luke grins at her. “You never cease to amaze me, Jules.”

As the excitement dies down, so does the party. The family disperses in groups until Carlos and Julie are hugging tía Victoria goodbye, and Ray is closing the door to a finally quiet home.

“So,” Ray says, turning to his kids. “One last thing to do tonight.”

Carlos nods. “I’ll grab the candles.”

"And I'll get… everything else," Julie adds. She glances at Alex and the others on her way up the stairs.

They meet her in her room. Alex sits on her bed. "So, what's next?"

"We're going to the cemetery to visit Mom's grave," Julie explains, opening her closet. She grabs a bag and joins Alex on the bed. "You guys can come if you want. People light up the graves with candles and lights—it's beautiful."

Sounds beautiful, but—Alex looks over at Luke and Reggie. They meet his gaze with as much hesitation as he feels.

"I think we're going to hang back," Luke admits softly. "It's, um… I think it's kind of weird for us, you know? Since we're…"

Julie blinks. "Oh, right. Duh. Of course." She shakes her head. "That's okay."

Alex smiles. "But we'll be here when you get home."

She nods, returning his smile. Her eyes flicker to something behind him, and she hurries around the bed. Alex is just turning to her when Reggie gasps.

“The box," he whispers, eyes wide.

"Don't act like at least one of you hasn't been in here already," Julie mutters, opening the box on her bed.

Alex and Reggie throw a look at Luke, who's chewing his lip sheepishly.

"What're you doing?" Luke asks, moving to her side.

"I—" Julie quickly tucks a piece of paper into her pocket. "I'm just… It's an offering for her."

Luke frowns. "Okay. Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"No, it's—"

"Julie!" Ray calls up the stairs. "You ready?"

Julie sighs. "Yeah, dad!" She shifts her weight, glancing between them. "I'll tell you guys later, okay?"

Reggie nods. "Yeah, of course."

She takes two steps toward the door before turning back to them. "Group hug?" she asks hopefully. "Real quick?"

Reggie immediately wraps his arms around her. "Like you even have to ask," he mutters. They chuckle. Alex rolls off the bed, and he and Luke join in. They've been doing this a lot more: hugging. Ever since they've been able to touch each other, this has become their thing. Not that Alex is complaining.

When Julie pulls away, she's smiling so wide. Alex smiles back, but he can't help thinking there's something behind that skeletal grin. He doesn't ask; none of them do. They let her go, despite the feeling gnawing at him. Later, he decides. Hopefully they can figure it out later.

–––––

JULIE

The cemetery was always Julie’s mom’s favorite part of Día de los Muertos. There’s a chilling beauty in a sea of lights across acres of land, crowded with people who can all relate on some level.

Rose Molina’s grave is lined with white and blue candles—she always loved the ones that smelled like the ocean. There are guitar picks scattered across the stone, most of which didn’t come from them. Ray suggested previous bandmates; Julie has never met the previous bandmates. She wants to one day; hopes to.

They stay with her for a while. She doesn’t know how long they sit by her, telling her stories about what’s happening in the past year. They have a lot to catch up on—Julie’s sure this is Carlos’ first visit since she died. It’s definitely Julie’s. Her dad’s been here a few times, only once or twice. She wonders if there have been any recent visits.

There are tears in her eyes when they finally stand to leave. Her dad catches it somehow—she’s sure her dark makeup shadowed by the dim light would’ve covered her—and before she can blink, he’s wrapping his arms around her in a tight hold. She would’ve buried her face in his chest if she had washed her paint off. But she didn’t, so she doesn’t hug as tight as she wants, and she pulls away too soon.

As they’re leaving, Julie remembers the note in her pocket. “Wait,” she says, falling out of step with them. “I forgot something.” She lingers, shifting her weight. “Can I meet you in the car?”

Carlos frowns. Dad nods. “Of course,” he says softly.

Julie watches them go, disappearing in the crowd. In just a blink, she’s alone. The note is heavy in her chest. With a deep breath, she turns back to her mom.

“Hey,” she says, sinking to her knees. “I have something I want to show you.” She crosses her legs under her and unfolds the note in her hands. “Remember that song we started writing while you were in the hospital? Stand Tall? We never… got to finish it…” With trembling hands, Julie slips the note beneath a picture frame Carlos left at the base of the stone. It’s a moment captured after Julie’s performance at The Orpheum: her, Carlos, Dad, and tía Victoria, posing under the Julie and the Phantoms sign.

“Well, my friend Luke helped me write that second verse,” she continues. “He’s—He’s kind of more than my friend. You know who he is, and what he is.” She laughs. “Don’t judge me too hard for this relationship, okay? He’s really… a great guy. They all are: Alex, Luke, and Reggie. They’ve helped me in… more ways that I can put into words.” The next time she laughs, her voice is shaking. She sniffs; the black on her nose smears across her hand when she rubs her face. “Anyway, um, I just wanted to give you this. And I wanted to tell you thanks. Thanks for sending the guys to me. Thanks for giving me the courage to get back into music. Thanks for…”

Julie shakes her head. The tears are back—she tries swallowing them back. Maybe if she can just hold it in for a little bit longer, at least until she takes the paint off—

“I really miss you, Mom,” she says carefully, slowly, like every word takes all of her strength. “A lot. Every day. I miss you. I miss you. I love you.”

Someone stops behind her stone. Two people, actually. Julie sniffs. She wipes at her nose again; she doesn’t care what she looks like now.

“Julie?”

That’s weird. Sounds almost like—

“Carrie?”

Julie brushes off her pants when she climbs to her feet. She sniffs again, eyeing the pair across from her: Carrie and Trevor Wilson. Trevor is holding a bouquet of flowers; it takes her breath away—dahlias.

“We were just coming out to pay our respects,” Trevor says. He separates a dahlia and hands it to her.

“Nice makeup,” Carrie says, not unkindly. She’s actually smiling, kind of like she used to when they were friends.

“Thanks, I—Flynn did it. Well, not…” Julie gestures to the smudged paint.

“Right.” Carrie reaches into her bag and offers a wad of tissues. Julie takes them with a smile. They share a nod, Julie thanks Trevor for the flower, and they go their separate ways. At least Julie doesn’t feel as heavy as usual when she walks away from Carrie.

At home, when her face is clean of any paint and she can see herself again, she steps into her animal slippers and makes her way down to the studio. The guys are waiting, just like they said they would. They smile when they see her, and she smiles back, but her gaze settles on the piano, and then she can’t look away from the piano.

Two years ago, she played a song while her mom strutted around the studio, pretending to sing terribly and still managing to sound like an angel. The year before that, Julie and her family sat on the floor surrounded by candles and told ghost stories because an earthquake knocked out their electricity (that’s where Carlos’ fascination comes from). The year before that, they—

Julie’s lip quivers. Her fingers curl around the arm of the couch, her vision blurs, and everything hurts. Someone’s in front of her in seconds—it’s Luke. He’s holding her close, tight against him, fingers in her hair, and she just breaks.

Her hands tighten into fists around his shirt. She buries her face in his shoulder; now that she’s started, she can’t stop. She tries to speak, to explain, but—

“Shh,” he whispers. He rubs circles into her back. “I know. I know, baby.” He kisses her hair. “It’s okay, Jules.”

She doesn’t try speaking again, and when Alex and Reggie join the hug, she just cries harder.

When she wakes the next morning, she’s on the couch. Luke’s behind her, an arm around her waist, legs tangled. Alex is in front of her, sitting against the couch with his cheek pressed against the cushion. She grimaces for him; that can’t be comfortable. On the floor, with his head in Alex’s lap is Reggie, curled in a ball against the couch. They never left her side last night.

With a heart swelling with warmth, Julie snuggles closer to Luke. Her movement causes him to hold tighter, which takes her breath away.

Julie smiles at something across from her before going back to sleep.

Laying on the coffee table in front of Alex, at the edge, as if it doesn’t want to leave her side either, is the dahlia.

#jatp week #julie and the phantoms #juke #julie molina #luke patterson #flynn jatp #alex jatp #reggie jatp #jatp #eog writes

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my-major-is-k-howard · 4 years ago

Text

The Emerald Letter

Hey guys! I’m finally back with another soulmate AU one shot. This one is a little shorter than my other ones but it was still pretty fun to write. I hope you all enjoy! 💙💚

Word Count: 3013

———————————————————————

Cathy stood by herself in her godmother’s apartment lobby, waiting patiently as the elevator descended the floors. She was on her way to pay Catherine a visit to catch up over tea, something the two had been doing at least once a month for years. Cathy smiled softly to herself as she recalled all of the memories that she had made with Catherine during these special moments together.

She looked back up at the elevator’s floor indicators and watched the numbers slowly decrease. This elevator was one of the slowest on the planet, which Cathy could attest to as someone who had ridden it plenty of times.

She sighed quietly to herself before looking down at the inside of her wrist, noticing that she was once again tracing the small letter that was there out of habit. Cathy stopped tracing the mark and appraised the green letter A, the only hint of who her soulmate was. The green letter meant the first letter of her soulmate’s name would be the first letter of the alphabet.

Cathy wondered what it would be like to finally find her soulmate. She had heard from some of her friends that it would be like finding the missing part of you. There would be an instant connection, a connection that would make you feel complete for the first time in your life. But the only way to know for sure would be after they introduced themselves and the soulmate letter finally disappeared for good.

Unfortunately for Cathy, she had met a lot of people throughout her life that had a name beginning with the same vowel on her wrist. Alfred. Audrey. Alex. Abby. Adam. Each person she met that had a name that began with A made her heart skip a beat. Her eyes would immediately dart to her wrist to see if her letter would fade away. Much to her disappointment, it never did. Her soulmate was still out there somewhere, bearing a C on their own wrist that stood for Cathy.

Cathy was snapped out of her thoughts by the elevator doors screeching open in front of her. She quickly entered and pressed the button that would take her up to the sixth floor. To her dismay however, the elevator began descending to the basement instead of taking her to the designated floor. Cathy cursed under her breath as the elevator stopped, dreading the unwanted social interaction that was bound to follow.

The doors opened to let the stranger in and immediately all of Cathy’s annoyance at the inconvenience melted away. Standing before her was possibly the most beautiful woman Cathy had ever seen in her life. Cathy took in the sight of the raven hair that flowed down in front of her shoulders, the porcelain skin that almost seemed to glow in the dingy light of the elevator, the leather jacket and boots that made her appearance even more awe-striking. Finally, Cathy made eye contact with the stranger and had to restrain herself from gasping aloud at the stunning emerald eyes that were curiously staring back at her.

The moment ended as quickly as it had started when the stranger moved to press the elevator button, shifting the motorcycle helmet she was holding under one arm as the other stretched towards the button panel. She stopped halfway when she noticed that the sixth floor button was already pressed. Cathy shuffled to the corner of the elevator to give the stranger more room as she found a comfortable place to stand.

Cathy shyly looked over at the pretty stranger who gave her a small smile in greeting. Cathy returned the smile before ducking her head and staring at her feet. After a few moments, Cathy looked up to watch the floors pass, refraining from stealing another glance at the other person in the elevator. For once, Cathy was glad that the old elevator took so long to reach its destination. She craved more time with the stranger in the elevator, even if it was just a few more moments.

Suddenly, there was a loud screech that echoed in the elevator shaft as the old machine shuddered to a stop between the fourth and fifth floors. Cathy grabbed onto the rail to prevent herself from falling. Her elevator buddy sloppily mirrored her movements, dropping her helmet in the process as the elevator shrieked to a halt.

Cathy had to stifle a giggle at the woman’s clumsy movements before the realization set in that she was now stuck in an old, rusty elevator. In a panic, Cathy pulled out her phone to call her godmother for help. She huffed when she saw that there was no service in the elevator and glumly slid her phone back into her pocket.

The other woman in the elevator picked up her helmet from the floor and quickly went to press the emergency alarm on the control panel. When no sound came out, the stranger banged on the metal a few times before trying again. The woman cursed quietly to herself when the alarm still stayed silent.

“Well, this is a shitty situation,” the stranger breathed out in defeat.

“You don’t say,” Cathy responded as the stranger turned to look at her. The two women shared a glance, and Cathy felt all of the panic from before evaporate into thin air.

The woman smiled at her. “Well, it could be worse. At least, I’m stuck with a pretty girl and not some creepy dude.”

Cathy blushed at the comment before shooting back a witty response. “And I’m stuck with a clumsy biker.”

The woman gave Cathy a sheepish grin. “My helmet slipped, okay? I’m not clumsy.” The woman looked down at the floor as she said the last statement, which Cathy took as a sign that she probably was quite a clumsy person.

“Whatever you say, Klutz,” Cathy joked as the woman across the elevator from her gave her a faux angry glare.

“Okay. That’s rude. I’ve known you for like one whole minute and you’re already giving me mean nicknames,” the biker shot back playfully as she fidgeted with her helmet.

One whole minute. That caught Cathy off guard. It had only been one minute and Cathy was already joking around with this stranger as if they had known each other their whole lives. Cathy shook her head before responding to her elevator acquaintance. “Well, it’s only fair if I let you give me one. Do your worst, Klutz.”

Cathy smirked as the girl struggled to come up with a nickname for her. “You really put me on the spot there.” The biker scratched the back of her neck as she appraised Cathy. “All I can think of is Pretty Girl. But that’s not a mean nickname at all.”

Cathy blushed at the phrase once again and smiled softly. “That’s actually really sweet, Klutz. Who knew you would be such a softie.”

“The leather jacket can only do so much for my reputation before my true colors show through,” the biker mused jokingly before looking back to the elevator control panel where the button for the sixth floor was still glowing a faint orange. She looked back to Cathy with a curious expression on her face. “I haven’t seen you around. Are you new here?”

“Oh, I don’t live here,” Cathy responded shyly as she rubbed her arm. “I was actually just visiting my godmother, Catherine.”

“Oh! We’re neighbors!” the woman commented excitedly. “When I was moving in, I accidentally walked into her apartment and she freaked out. She started yelling at me in Spanish and I barely escaped within an inch of my life. Good times.”

Cathy chuckled at the anecdote. “She told me that story not that long ago. She thought you were trying to rob her hence the angry Spanish yelling. She did say that she felt bad so she made you cookies as an apology.”

The woman laughed and nodded. “Those were the best cookies I’ve ever had.”

“She also mentioned that you have a habit of playing music obnoxiously loud in the middle of the night,” Cathy added with a smirk.

The biker’s eyes widened before smiling shyly. “Yeah, I guess I’m a bad neighbor. I should probably make her some apology cookies.”

“Maybe you should try flowers instead, Klutz. I wouldn’t trust you around anything in the kitchen,” Cathy joked before taking a seat on the floor of the elevator. It seemed like they would be stuck for a while so why not pass the time talking with the woman until help arrived.

“You’re so mean to me, Pretty Girl,” the woman said as she sat next to Cathy. “For your information, I am superb at using a microwave.” She flashed Cathy a brilliant smile that made her heart pound in her chest. There was something about this girl that drew Cathy in, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

She was totally enraptured by the sight in front of her that she almost forgot to reply. “I bet you are. You must be such a culinary expert in that department,” Cathy giggled.

“Wait until you try my ramen, Pretty Girl. Gordon Ramsay would be quaking at my skills preparing that dish,” she joked which made Cathy laugh even harder. Her acquaintance joined in her laughter until both of them were almost in tears.

“You know, out of everybody I could have been trapped in an elevator with, I’m glad it was you, Klutz,” Cathy commented after her laughter subsided.

“Yeah, it’s like fate wanted us to meet or something,” Cathy’s new friend added, glancing back at her with a small smile.

Cathy looked back at the woman next to her and mirrored her smile. They stayed like that for a few moments, getting lost in each other’s eyes before the biker cleared her throat nervously.

“So, I haven’t asked yet. Have you met your soulmate?” The woman dropped Cathy’s gaze shyly as she began fidgeting with her helmet that was resting beside her.

Cathy smiled softly at the biker before looking down at her wrist and began tracing her soulmate mark. “No, not yet.” She looked back up to the woman next to her, who was gazing back at her with a new glimmer in her eyes. Cathy hesitated for a moment before she decided to return the question.

For some reason, it made Cathy’s heart ache when she thought about her new friend having a soulmate. She knew that they had just met but Cathy already felt so connected to the biker, more connected than she was to some of her friends even. Cathy took a quick breath to clear her mind of those emotions before letting the question slip out of her mouth. “What about you? Have you met your soulmate?” Cathy braced herself for her response, selfishly hoping that the girl was still searching.

“I have not, Pretty Girl. I’m still looking for my special someone,” the woman responded and looked down at her helmet. Cathy let out a small breath that she hadn’t realized she had been holding. She felt her heart jump in her chest as an elated feeling overtook her. She didn’t know why she felt this way but there was no denying that the biker’s confession had given her a little hope that maybe, just maybe, she and Klutz were soulmates.

Cathy stopped tracing her soulmate mark, realizing that she had been repeating the motion out of nervousness. Then, a sudden thought struck Cathy. Before she could stop herself, Cathy asked, “What’s your letter?”

The girl looked up with a soft expression on her face before pulling down the sleeve of her leather jacket to reveal the blue, cursive C on her wrist. Cathy gave a small gasp at the sight. Her hopeful eyes returned to the shining green ones that were peering back at her curiously.

“What’s yours?” the biker asked as she bit her lip nervously.

“It’s an A,” Cathy responded quietly as she showed her friend her soulmate mark. She watched the biker’s face closely, gauging her response for any notion that they could actually be soulmates.

The woman’s eyes sparkled before she let out a small laugh. “Hey! My name’s Anne! Maybe I’m your soulmate!” the biker exclaimed excitedly.

Anne. Cathy’s eyes immediately darted to her wrist and gawked at the sight of her green letter beginning to glow a gold hue before disappearing from her skin permanently. Cathy let out a shocked breath before turning back to Anne. “My name is Cathy.”

Cathy watched as Anne peered down at her own soulmate mark and witnessed it fade from her wrist. She let out an excited laugh before looking back at Cathy with a bright smile. “See! I knew fate wanted us to meet!”

Before Cathy could respond, Anne had thrown her arms around her and was pulling her into a tight hug. Cathy immediately wrapped her arms around Anne’s waist and rested her head gently in the crook of her neck. Cathy let out a satisfied sigh, reveling in the feeling of finally being in her soulmate’s arms.

They stayed in that position for a few minutes before parting from each other. Cathy looked into those mesmerizing emerald eyes and smiled happily as she felt butterflies erupt in her stomach. Her eyes slowly drifted down to Anne’s lips, admiring how full they were… and how badly Cathy wanted to feel them on hers.

“Hey Cathy,” Anne whispered quietly as Cathy looked back up to meet Anne’s nervous eyes. “I would really like to kiss you right now.” Cathy noticed Anne’s gaze momentarily shift to her own lips before meeting her gaze shyly once again.

“I’m not stopping you,” Cathy whispered back as she bit her lip. Anne gave her a soft smile before bringing a gentle hand up to cup her cheek. Cathy leaned into the touch and closed her eyes, anxiously awaiting Anne’s kiss.

Right before Anne’s lips touched hers, the old elevator creaked into motion, snapping the soulmates out of their moment. They quickly scrambled to their feet as Anne reached down to grab her abandoned helmet from the floor. As the doors slid open, she lost her grip and dropped her helmet back on the elevator tile.

Cathy giggled as she picked up the motorcycle helmet, exiting the elevator before Anne had a chance to react. A moment later, Anne joined her in the apartment hallway and watched the elevator doors close behind her.

“From now on, I’m taking the stairs,” Anne mused as she turned back to Cathy.

Cathy laughed out loud at Anne’s joke before handing her the helmet. “Here, Klutz. Try not to drop it again.”

Anne sighed as she carefully took her helmet back from Cathy. “I’m never going to escape that nickname, am I?”

“Not a chance!” Cathy giggled. “You’re stuck with it for the rest of our lives.”

“‘The rest of our lives.’ I could get used to that, Pretty Girl,” Anne responded with a smile.

Cathy returned Anne’s smile before slowly leaning up to finally press her lips against Anne’s. They immediately melted into the kiss, moving their lips together in perfect harmony. After a few moments of pure bliss, Cathy pulled away and admired the look of awe that was painted across Anne’s face.

“Wow,” Anne breathed out as a dopey grin took over her previous expression. “I really like having a soulmate.”

Cathy smiled softly at Anne’s words. “Me too.”

The two stayed there for a few more moments, admiring each other, until Anne cleared her throat. “I should let you go visit with your godmother.” Anne shuffled in her spot awkwardly before kissing Cathy’s cheek gently.

As Anne was about to walk down the hall to her apartment, Cathy grabbed her arm to get her attention. “Would you like to join us, Anne? I know she would love to have you over… and I’d like to spend more time with you.”

Anne met Cathy’s shy glance with a loving smile. “Yeah! I would love to join you!” Anne paused before adding, “Maybe she can teach me how to make those apology cookies I love so much.” Cathy giggled at that before taking Anne’s hand and leading her to her godmother’s apartment.

It wasn't long before Anne officially became a permanent member of the monthly tea time. They eventually made it their custom for Anne to pick Cathy up on her motorcycle and take her back to Catherine’s apartment, which originally started after Anne gifted Cathy a motorcycle helmet of her own on their four-month anniversary. They would ride together through the winding streets, Cathy with her arms around Anne’s waist to keep her secure as her soulmate navigated her motorcycle with ease.

When they arrived at the apartment, they would race each other up the stairs, refusing to take the elevator together ever again. Usually, Anne won but Cathy would occasionally snatch the victory on the times Anne dropped her helmet on the way up. On those occasions, Cathy would always turn around and endearingly call Anne her Klutz for dropping her helmet. Though, regardless of who won, they never failed to share a quick kiss at the top of the stairs after catching their breath.

For all the times Cathy wondered about what having a soulmate would be like, she never imagined how beautiful the little moments would be. But that was one of the amazing parts about having Anne as a soulmate. Every little thing was special and deliberate. Anne brought joy to every part of Cathy’s life, even the parts that were previously monotonous like her quick trips to her godmother’s apartment for tea.

Anne made Cathy feel complete. With her, colors were a little brighter, her smile was a little wider, and the longing for a soulmate that had resounded deep within her was now replaced with deep echoes of laughter. Cathy had finally found the missing part of her, someone who just so happened to be a clumsy, green-eyed biker named Anne.

#parrlyn #parrelyn #parrlyn fanfic #six the musical #six the musical fanfic #anne boleyn #catherine parr #anne boleyn x catherine parr

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black-streak · 5 years ago

Text

Waiting for the Worms - Nobody Home

Part 7

Warnings less? In effect here? But still be aware of course. Condensing a lot for the sake of timelines matching up and consistency in pacing. (Okay, so maybe I have Mari's entire plotline figured out and am mostly playing Jason's by ear, call me out on it)

Closed list of nice people who I regularly hurt for amusement: @northernbluetongue @thethirdwheelfriend @shizukiryuu @theatreandcomicfreak @michellemagic @karategirl119 @moonlightstar64 @my-name-is-michell @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @miraculousdisapointment @dorkus-minimus @jardimazul @allthebooksandcrannies @g-arya @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @persephonescat @mycupisbroken @luciferge @18-fandoms-unite-08 @dawnwave16 @alwaysreblogneverpost @kris-pines04 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @weird-pale-blonde-person @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @kokotaru @naclychilli @slytherinhquinn @clumsy-owl-4178 @ladybug-182 @darkthunder1589 @evil-elf16 @dast218 @lysslovsanime @emilytopaz @naoryllis @iloontjeboontje @thepeacetea @danielslilangel @finallyaniguana @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @vixen-uchiha @yuulxd @bleeding-heart-romantic @magic-inthe-stars @st0rmy-w1th1n

~---~

Jason woke up screaming to the sight of bright glowing green, only to snap back into the bedroom as Sabine burst in through the trapdoor. The petite woman ran up the stairs and collapsed beside him, throwing warm arms around his shoulders, tugging him down into the crook of her neck.

"Shh, shh honey, it's alright. It was just a dream, you're okay, I'm here."

He stiffened at first, only to melt into the embrace, meeting otherworldly blue eyes behind her. Tikki seemed to shake with concern, wanting to come to him, but unable to in the presence of his parental figure.

Sabine pulled back a touch, stroking his head in gentle motions, meeting his eyes and guiding him through concentrated breaths until hia had evened out.

"Do you want to talk about it, sweetie?"

A wobbly smile broke on his lips at the sweet endearment as he shook his head and fell back into her embrace. He'd never adjust to being so thoroughly cared for and loved and supported, even if she didn't realize it was all directed at the wrong person. God, he hated lying to her. About where he was during akuma attacks. Why he stopped being friends with most of the class. Why in the year after her death, he had stepped down from most of Marinette's class responsibilities. About who he was and what he meant to her. He hated letting this wonderful, loyal, fierce woman think he was her daughter.

Flashes of the toxic green flashed behind his closed eyes along with flowing red, reminding him why he woke in the first place.

Accepting the kiss on the cheek and reassuring Sabine that everything was okay, he waited until she disappeared down the steps and towards her own room, door firmly closed behind her before turning back towards Tikki.

"Are you okay, Jason?"

"Yeah… might be spending too much time with Plagg. Dreamt I was drowning in his eyes," he joked.

"That's awful, no wonder you were screaming," she tagged on, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Oh yeah, absolute nightmare."

"You're okay though."

"Yeah," he breathed out, turning over and feeling the kwami curl up on his hip and slowly fall back to sleep as he stared at the wall until morning.

…

Occasionally, someone worked up the nerve to ask him out.

Whether because her physique appealed to them or his personality drew in a rather specific type. Usually, guys who thought they could tame him. Girls who wanted his aggression directed in passion. Saw her body and his anger and guilt displayed in a rather intimidating, distant contenance. Never one to start a fight, but quick to end one with a verbal lashing. Otherwise friendly when approached, but never the one approaching. Some thought him shy, others knew better and saw the fire within. All were turned away.

It made Jason sick to his stomach to think of dating these people with her body. To show affection and know he was using her body in that manner. And moreover, he couldn't stand the idea of ever being with someone who wasn't her. Sure, he knew many people dated around before meeting their soulmate or were only platonic with their other half and sought romance elsewhere, but none of them were in his position. None of them were living inside a dead other half's body, pretending to live their life. Surely if they were, they would feel the same. Not that he planned on sharing.

As it stood, he became a known heartbreaker at school.

…

He dreamt of flashing blades and splattered blood that night. He screamed himself awake once more. He wasn't sure why. It's not like he didn't risk his life everyday since he was ten. Something about the dreams got to him though.

…

Sometimes he forgot he wasn't her. This life he lived, this lie became his truth for just a moment.

Nothing epitomized this as much as the absolute defeat of Hawkmoth.

Jocular came up with the idea with the help of Fievel. The two came up with a strategy of using illusions and prodding mice to draw akumas further and further towards the outskirts of Paris, making stops along the way to toy with the angered victims until they did something reckless. Serval and Ladybug made sure to stay completely out of sight to ensure that Hawkmoth knew that his goal would not be reached with this line of action. Nimbus jumped in if the akuma came too close to any of the others to knock them off their feet and give the others a chance to create distance. If Hawkmoth's signature purple symbol glowed around their face, they knew they were still in range. Once the akuma seemed to go absolutely off the rails with no interference, they ended the battle quickly and marked the spot on a map of Paris. Once they made their first mark, they went slightly to the right of the previous fight, waiting to make the next mark and leading the following battle to the right of that until, like clockwork, they made a complete circle.

With the circle complete, they took their map and drew a line from one point to the one directly across the map, until eventually they found the exact center.

The Agreste mansion. Oh, the irony.

The battle went surprisingly quick after that. They waited until they defeated an akuma close to the mansion, so that the Moth miraculous would need to recharge before it could activate again. Nathalie, who previously wielded the peacock, stayed out of the altercation, too sick to attempt anything. With Gabriel unable to transform yet and his assistant unable to fight back, they made quick work of apprehending the man, bringing the police into the atrium of butterflies and showing the underground garden that held his list wife. With a few threatened words whispered into his ear by Ladybug and Serval, Gabriel transformed in front of the police, allowing them to take pictures of everything as evidence of his actions. He also admitted his guilt into a tape recorder, to be used in court. Of course, they were all careful not to let any of the kwamis be seen by civilians throughout the arrest.

Finally, with the two adults arrested with their bodyguard and Adrien taken into custody for questioning, the heroes all disappeared into the dark night, the battle over and won.

They met back up in their headquarters, Fu's parlor. Luckily, throughout the years, the old master had never been found out, despite a handful of close calls. Mostly due to the group threatening the man back into hiding every time he considered getting involved. Still, the place became their haven. A place to relax and regroup without the fear of being overheard. That night, the group celebrated their victory, emotions haywire in a swirl of grief and anger and misery and elation and pure relief, letting everything flow out, the release long overdue.

Up until this point, the hunt of Hawkmoth over the last two months had kept Jason so busy that beyond the nightmares, he nearly forgot that they weren't celebrating with him, but with who they thought was Marinette. The constant use of false names and codes had helped further disillusion him.

Now though, they hollered and sobbed and laughed together in their exuberance and they all congratulated him as their leader, as the one freed of the most responsibility, as the one who had battled from the beginning. He thanked them and rejoiced the end of an era. And then he went to her home.

He slipped in through the balcony and dropped into bed, the transformation sliding off as he went. That wasn't really his battle to win. His enemy to defeat. He knew that. She would've been happy to know that their team protected Paris. Broke it free from Gabriel's reign of terror. That they won. He wished she could've been there to see it. To take down her enemy herself. This was supposed to be her victory. He fell back into depression, knowing she'd never get to witness his defeat.

…

That night, he dreamt of shrouded figures. Of defending himself from multiple enemies. He dreamt of proud jade green eyes watching at a distance.

…

It hurt so badly to let her dreams slip through his fingers. Muscle memory and basic knowledge from reading her old books on sewing led to an adequacy when mending old clothes, adding buttons, or customizing his own things to fit further to his style. This however, did not translate into her creativity and ability to take a concept and transform it into an original design.

At first, this raised suspicion and worry amongst their friends and family, but as time passed, they accepted that perhaps the inspiration had moved on. Jagged and Clara had shown their acceptance and support and told him if he ever got back into the game, to contact them first. Both protested and fought valiantly at first, but after a long conversation where he revealed that he simply couldn't bring himself to create the way he once had after losing his other half, the two had showered him in affection and backed off. The full truth was tragic, but the half truth was enough for them all.

The team had sensed the change since the beginning and upon finding his dwindling willingness to create, they thought perhaps moonlighting as ladybug drained it from him. Probably explained why he worked better with Plagg nowadays despite his attachment to Tikki. He allowed them to believe what they would as long as it meant not pushing him to design anymore.

He took to studying more, reading on any subjects that caught his attention at the moment, enjoying the freedom of no longer having a villain to fight. He kept up training with the team and her old martial arts classes. He also added in kickboxing for the hell of it. It became a wonderful outlet for his aggression without taking it out on his teammates.

Sometimes, on busy weekends or on breaks, he helped in the bakery. It was during one of these times that Tom brought him in to help develop a new flavor, that he found a love of creation again. Something about working side by side with Tom, discussing how different spices and fruits played off each other reminded him of early afternoons spent with Alfred. When tears sprung to his eyes at the thought of the older butler, Tom immediately drew him into a hug, asking what had made him cry. Jason gave a watery smile and simply said he had missed this.

After that, her parents started using him in the baking process more, allowing him to taste taste and make his own creations with their guidance. He was a decent baker, good enough to keep up with them and offer new takes on old classics, but they soon discovered that he truly came to life with cooking.

It was soon afterwards that he took over making dinner every night, releasing some of the pressure from Tom and Sabine to find time in the midst of shutting down the bakery. It also eased some of his guilt towards the two to have a way to pull his own weight within the family.

…

It had been about eight months since he first dreamt of toxic, luminescent green. It still visited him in his nightmares occasionally, engulfing him in horrific clarity. Sometimes he asked Plagg about it, only to be met with concerned, nervous eyes. Once he teased the little god about corrupting his soul, only to see a flash of fear quickly shroud itself in a huffy, put off demeanor. Plagg hissed at him and gave him the cold shoulder for three days after that. He never teased the kwami about the nightmares again.

Sometimes the dreams still held flashes of silver and red, dripping blood off steel, of shrouded aggressors. Of proud jade green, watching him at all times, assessing him, observing and glinting with a hidden glee.

It was a couple months after the two year anniversary of her death that something changed.

He dreamt of jade green eyes, staring up at him from a much lower height than the last set, coming closer, looking curious and guarded, yet hopeful.

#jasonette #maribat #ml x dc #WFTW #part 7

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handmadecp · 5 years ago

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‘Leaf’ Pouch, full Build along.

Hi guys, This week I’ve been busy with lots of little projects, all of which I will show on here all in good time. Also busy right now trying to go Self Employed with this which takes forever to sort out here in the uk because there ‘is’ help...but not much and what there is takes a long time to get, anyhoooo, moving on to the fun stuff. Some of you may have seen a few W.i.P’s added to keep you all up to date on whats actually going on, I hope you are enjoying the short snap shots through out the week, I thought it might grab your interest and also just to give you a quick taster of the coming blog. So here it is, the ‘Leaf’ pouch build. This build is ok to try if you are a beginner...but probably more suits people wo have had some experience with stitching, dying, cutting with a swivel knife and tooling. I am now four years into my Journey into this amazing craft but still learning new stuff all the time, so although there will be projects that may seem a bit advanced for Beginners, I will still be alternating between the ‘Beginner’ projects, intermediate and advanced ( As I learn more I will share.) So , lets get on. I First Purchased for about £3.50 (Uk) from a great Lady goes by the name of ‘Downtoearthcreations’ you can find her on Youtube she is a prolific maker and sells some great patterns and has build along tutorials I’d advise you to go have a look, I then down loaded the Pattern.

First go to Downtoearthcreations on youtube, find the Leaf bag tutorial video and the purchase this pattern, it’s not expensive and is very easy to follow.

I then cut all the pieces out as shown here and stuck them together where needed with decorators paper tape....why?...coz that’s what I had, no other reason. then Transfer the pattern shapes to the leather of your choice, I used a 2-3 mm veg tan, it takes tooling well, but just be careful, it’s not very thick, don’t press the swivell knife too hard or else it will go right through, how do I know this...guess. Well that’s not hard to guess, Yes I cut through my first one, I’ve always said I will mention successes and failures on here, it’s the only way to learn I think.

For any really ‘New’ people who maybe don’t know yet what ‘Casing’ means I’ll quickly explain, it just means ‘wetting’ the leather to a ‘certain’ point of saturation..NOT..completely saturated as you might do for wet molding, but that’s a whole other thing. so for now just wet it evenly, whenever I wet leather I usually wet it all over , even the areas that I won’t be tooling, I have learned from other more experienced folk that if you only wet the area you need, you can end up with a ‘tide’ line and the water actually does darken the leather so when you come to dye it the will be a difference in shade between the area that was wetted and the one that wasn’t. some people don’t mind it...but personally, I wet it all over, your choice. Then you have to leave it until it almost looks dry again, then it’s ready for cutting and tooling. First you need to draw your veins on the leaf, you can free hand this part if you are confident enough or trace the given pattern with a ball point stylus tool or similar to get the pattern on the leather, then, use the swivell knife to cut in your design, adding any extra veins or cuts you might like. Take a Pear shader tool as shown above and using the bigger edge..’smash’...in a controlled way...the edges of the leaf as shown above..

Here you can see how I’ve gone all around the edges and basically flattened them, also here the ‘veins’ have been cut into the leather it’s now ready to tool it. You can leave it exactly like this as it will still look great but for a little extra ‘depth’ to the design I’m tooling mine.

Here I’ve decided after several ‘Coats of Looking at’..that I wanted the veins to really stand out so made a second cut as seen here,

Once the veins are all tooled with the beveler (Number B802) I dampened it a bit more..not a lot as before because it still retains some moisture and I just want to mould it a bit not soak it. (This molding is completely different to ‘Wet Molding’ as such, as with wet moulding you are shaping pouches and bags etc...this is just a thin leaf. If you do think you have over watered it, just leave it to dry off for a while at room temprature, don’t try putting it in the oven or under the grill or using a heat gun..as you will make it solid and brittle...again..yes..I know because I’ve done just that in the past, luckily..I do learn from my mistakes. I then manipulates the leaf into a more acceptable shape, I did this several times before getting a shape that pleased me.

Look closely you will notice I added some small ‘cuts’, just my own preference, you decide what you want if making one of these yourself.

I Layed down lots of paper, got myself gloved up, had some paper towels and old cloths handy, a small tub of water and a sponge, then I got out the Gel Antique dye, made by Eco-Flo. I decided on a Dark Brown. Couple of things here if you’ve never used Gel Antique dyes...firstly get some gloves on because this stuff will dye you and take weeks of hard scrubbing to get off. secondly, this is expensive stuff..for a reason, it actually works. I love it, but you have to get a whole bunch of it on your sponge to then spread it on your piece in circular motion as fast as you can..because then you need to get off the eccess with your towels, the reason is because the antique dyes go darker the longer its on, so get it on...get it off, if not dark enough for you then repeat until it is. this stuff also buffs up really nice. A good video on YT to watch is by a guy called Chuck Dorset at Weaver Leather Craft , go watch him first if you’ve never done this before. If it all looks a bit dark when you’ve finished don’t worry, antique gel dyes can be toned down by wiping with a ‘Damp’ cloth or sponge until it is a shade you like. You also don’t want this stuff on your clothes or furniture...you have been warned ( hahahaha ). Good luck...the results are worth it.

See how it’s getting lighter as it dries out.

I Like to use a piece of Canvas cloth to buff up my projects, it almost Burnishes them as seen here. note how I’ve twisted some of the ends of the leaf points, the Lady at Backtoearthcreations taught me that neat little trick on her YT video...once again..I advise you go have a look you’ll enjoy it.

So now we need to think about the stitch holes, I’ve used quite a wide gapped stitch iron as you can see on the following pic’, this is so that when it’s stitched we get the ‘style’ that I want. keep going you’ll see at the end. First I put stitch holes in the front piece, then laid that in position and made the first four holes just to give me the opposite position. I did use a Divider to draw a line to keep my stitch holes straight if you zoom in on the next pic you can see the line, this will be hidden by the thread when finished.

I have also made a strap loop which comes with the pattern, my advice...make it slightly longer so that a 2″ belt will fit through it. it’s ok as is...if you just rivit it ‘flat’ but if you want the extra ‘look’ you get from bending the strap over as shown here it can get a bit tight...your choice. I used a couple antique brass rivits top and bottom to hold it in place. Oh..nearly forgot, by this stage I had already coated with resolene to ‘fix’ the dye, but I guess you can do it at the end too. I dyed the flap side of the pouch on the inside dark because if you twist the leaf points you can see the ‘flesh’ color, didn’t want that, but I left the inside of the front peace ‘flesh’ colored and untouched so that when searching in the pouch in bad light it helps to light the inside of the pouch a little, just another little tip I got from someone far more experienced which I’m happy to pass on to you. I would have left it all flesh colored if not for the leaf points.

I decided to use an antique brass snap stud as a fastener for this pouch, so punch the hole BEFORE you start putting it all together...it’s just easier. ( guess how I know ???...hahahaha...yup you guessed it..what can I say..I didn’t have people pointing this stuff out to me, but hopefully by sharing my mistakes it will save you from doing the same thing..)

Not everyone has a snap stud fitting machine but the hand tools are easy to learn.

Starting to look like a pouch a bit more now.

So, all the pieces are almost ready, just the Gusset to make now, I chose a soft leather in Maroon color as seen here, again I drew a line about a quarter inch in as a stitch hole guide. The gusset section is deliberately cut a bit longer than needed and will be trimmed once done.

Finally it’s time to stitch it all together, I chose a veg tan flesh colored Lace and I had to stitch it all by hand with nothing more than a scratch awl to widen the holes. ( As I didn’t have the necessary Flat Lacing needle at the time ) but I personally enjoy stitching without a needle. so, I lined up the gusset, at this point you may do well to have the ‘Down to earth’ Leaf Bag Tutorial on as she demonstrates quite well how to begin the stitch which is a little difficult for me to explain on here. Ok, so once you’ve watched how she starts the stitch off you are basically ‘away’ and just keep going to the end and tie off as shown on the YT instructional video.

Here you can see the scratch awl in my hand whilst I’m ‘gently’ pulling the Lacing tight. Use good quality lace as there’s nothing more annoying than it keep snapping when you tighten it.

Really starting to come together now, the contrast between the Maroon and the antique colors is amazing...well, to me at least. Here now you can see why I used a wide gap stitching iron for the holes, it leaves a nice gap between each stitch which adds to the over all look of the project.

Here I’m trying to show how I finished off the stitching on this side of the gusset. as I came through with the last four stitches I pulled extra thread through so I could widen them on the inside allowing me to back thread the lace as shown here, I then pulled it through and snipped it off.

Then I went back and pulled all of the four stitched tight to hold the cut off end tightly. there are more than four widened here but as you saw I threaded it through four, you can do two if you like but I felt that four would hold better.

I then just snipped the end .

I slotted it in place and ‘snapped it closed just to get an idea how it was looking and have to say I was very happy at this point.

Then it was on to side two.

Annnnd..’Voila’ one really nice Leaf Bag / Pouch suitable for every day wear if you are into that sort of thing, or Renaissance / Larping / fancy Dress / medievel / basically any kind of costume event even Steam Punk if you just added some Steam punky bits to it. Well guys there you have it another little project from our new workshop, many more still to come, I’ll keep showing little snap shots through out the week to give a taste of whats going on in the w/shop just to show what I’m getting up to. Hope you have enjoyed this build along set, also hope you have a go yourself and as always I’m free to answer any questions and always happy to receive constructive advice. I’m still not professional, still learning and still sharing it all after nearly four years...yes my little Blog will be four years old next month. Till next time then, Stay crafty and watch this space.

#leather #leathercraft #medievel #larping #costumes #bags #pouches #leaf #leaves #renaissance

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ofcloudsandstars · 5 years ago

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This week was a wild Samhaintide ride. I’ll post more about it in the read more

Here's yet another selection of stories from my witchy life I am ready to dump on you all so get ready lol:

Wednesday night was the party at the occult shop Treadwells where we met a new witch friend who joined us for the Samhain festivities. I have already made a post about it here but her name is Letitia and she is a beautiful sapphic Taurean witch who loves gardening and cooking (duh she's a Taurus) and all the goddesses she worships and bought an incredible pumpkin pie to the ritual.

Halloween

So the day begun with me making candles for the ritual. I bought a skull candle, a candle the shape of a jackolantern and then I made several candles which were three mini pumpkins hollowed and filled with black wax that’s pumpkin and bourbon scented, then four tea light spell candles with black wax and four tea light spell candles with a special wax my sag witchy friend bought for me from Edinburgh from a witchy shop. The wax melt was made with herbs and was called 'thinning the veil'. I’ll elaborate later. I also had to walk to the post office to pick up the ouija board. I had a feeling I'd finally get my hands on it on Halloween. Its a very aesthetic round one and I was excited to use it.

We chose to gather in Queenswood in the north of London. It was already SUPER SPOOKY cause there was a murder nearby so all of the buses were being redirected lol. We gathered all in black with our witch hats and delved deep in the woods. It was so beautiful and the ground was completely coated in gold and red leaves so you couldn't even see the path. We found a clearing in the thick of the woods with an old tree that grew sideways so it made a semi circle. We made a HUGE circle that we drew in the earth with a dead stick and went over with dragonsblood incense and black salt.

We opened the space by lighting the pumpkin candles and begun with centering our energy. There were several parts to the ritual we planned, but first we begun with a 'putting it to rest' spell since autumn is the time to let things go and samhain is about death so it was like officially bringing things to an end. We wrote down what we wanted to end in our lives on a piece of paper (such as not seeing coworkers from a toxic job that someone was leaving or the retrograde made my friend run into her abusive father that she had binded from seeing her for YEARS so she wanted to put that situation to rest) and ignited it in my cauldron. When it burned down to ashes we chose a spot (under a goblin-like tree) outside of the circle to open the earth and bury it in. After we put it in it's grave we all said a few words of departure and said: rest in peace. lol.

In my case I wrote down names of these models that are obsessed with this Italian guy (who is the son of a huge fashion designer) who is in love with my sister. They are obsessed with him for his connections to the fashion world and that he is rich and are jealous of any 'hoes' he's currently into so they posted instagram stories on Halloween with them in witch hats taunting that they were going to curse him and all of his lovers or whatever in cutesy filters and my sister knows I practice witchcraft so she told me. So I binded and banished them and the next day they unfollowed her lol.

Anyway, afterwards we focused on what we should reflect on by pulling tarot cards for mercury retrograde in scorpio that was beginning on that day as it's going to be like two weeks of descending into our own underworlds. After we got a card we lit the black tealight candle as a road opening spell to manifest a helpful path with overcoming our retrograde's lessons.

Then I lit the skull candle and we had a moment to reflect on our ancestors and those that we loved that have been lost that year. We each shared stories then lit the white tea light candles with the wax that was for thinning the veil. When we lit it we thought about our loved ones or ancestors.

Finally we did a dance for thinning the veil. I had flying devil oil that was some fragrance oil I got from a hoodoo shop and we dressed ourselves with it and ran around the circle and chanted in the leaves. We then ate the pumpkin pie the lovely Taurean witch bought also some maple sugar fudge she bought (what a champ), and halloween candy. We used the Ouija board but it was really challenging. We thought maybe it was cause we needed to be less grounded so we put it away and cleaned up the ritual space and headed off.

The Taurean witch was going to head home to cook a feast, my French aries witch friend went to her friends she's staying at to have a party and my Sag witch friend went home to cook a dumb supper for her and her mom. I went back to my place to nap then get ready for the night. I met my Sag friend at a music venue to watch Honeyblood which is SUCH a witchy band. The performance really reminded me of some scooby doo hex girls shit. It was a lot of fun (until some grown ass men with no sense of self awareness took the mosh pit to mean something more of a Jailbreak riot and started throwing their whole 6ft man bodies everywhere despite not everyone being gladiator sized. It was really ridiculous but golden when Honeyblood sang "Glimmer" with lyrics like "she can put a hex on you" thats when this one guy in some sailor outfit shoved his body into us and we BOTH looked at him with such evil at the same time and he like.. stopped.. and like hastily moved to another part of the room..) If you don't know Honeyblood you should listen to them, they are such a babe witch band.

We then went to a bar nearby to get flaming shots of absinthe as its a personal tradition (also a way to 'cross the veil') and someone took candids of us at the bar! (I added the picture above), for some reason we really caught the attention of everyone though we just were in witch hats like EVERYONE was like: OOO WITCHES and like we even had some lady take pictures of us at the bar? Like ok it was cute I guess. My friend was drunk then so every time someone was like: oo a Witch! She'd holler back YASS BITCH 365 24/7!!!! Like o' dear.

Final part to the night was the house party my Aries witch friend (she's the one who's apartment I almost burned down once when I was making spell candles). It was a place around the corner from mine with a host who was HIGH OFF HER FACE on drugs. There was the counter of alcohol that kept us going all night, we had a lot of mingling with everyone there then when it started to get a little less wild we claimed an empty bedroom and tried the ouija board again since we were definitely less grounded than in the forest. Unfortunately the results were still a bit weak but we got a little bit of consistency with movement. There was some guy there that seemed interested but as time went on it turned out he was more interested in me than the board. I am a touched starved human being and he was playing with my hair and I was drunk so I did not care then after we ended up kissing while my other witchy friends and some new comers were chatting about the dead. My Aries witch friend lives on the other side of the city so she asked if they could stay at mine and I was like yea plus it was like 4AM at this point and this guy was getting very handsy like I just wanted my hair to be played with so I was like ok nice meeting you I gotta go. And He was like oh no please come say one last goodbye. I was too drunk to realize that he was in the bathroom and he closed to door to make out with me and I was like this is nice you do have nice flowy long hair that covers your big shiny forehead that I am now noticing in this bright fluorescent lighting but I gotta go. And he's like: No I wanna take you home I wanted to the moment I saw you. And he WHIPS OUT HIS DICK AND SAYS: this is for you. I am DYING like honestly I found it hilarious, I was so drunk I like forgot that there were other people on the other side of the door so I barge out of the bathroom like: WE ARE GOING HOME and my witchy friends saw his dick and were howling with laughter and that 10 minute walk home they would NOT LET ME BE IN PEACE about it.

Samhain Day

Anyway my friends stay over and in the morning I make tea and a light breakfast since we are hung over and we watch The Worst Witch 1980s Halloween special where we fucking Howl at laughter at everything especially Tim Curry flying around in that Cape. The rest of the day is really quiet since most of it is me sleeping trying to recover from the day before.

At 4 PM I call my relatives to say I love them and stuff cause I felt like my closest relatives on the other side of the veil wanted that. I made a feast for myself which consisted of Mashed sweet potato, a salad of chopped royal gala apples, carrots and beetroots and duck sauteed in maple syrup and bourbon. It may sound sweet but the bourbon balanced it out and duck tastes a bit sweet so it blended well with the maple flavor. After I had sticky toffee pudding for dessert. I made a plate for my ancestors and then got ready for fireworks with my other witchy friend who is the sound healer at Alexandra Palace.

I nearly missed the MASSIVE fire effigy burning cause the commute there was a NIGHTMARE since everything was still being redirected. (Thanks mercury retrograde). The fireworks were incredible though. There were so many it was like being bombarded with fiery psychedelics. My friend still wanted to show off her sexy angel outfit for Halloween so I asked if she wanted to hang out with us tomorrow night to party.

Saturday Night

She came over like at 4 and we got ready. She looked a bit like the angel from the remake of Romeo and Juliette with Leonardo decaprio but in lingerie with a long white lace robe. I dressed as a poltergeist though I don't think it came off that way but I had a sheer black dress on with a skeleton body suit, a glow in the dark wig and pale tulle. I just wanted to be a spooky ghost. We had to sneak into a members club that I work at cause I am NOT allowed to be there and I was terrified of them finding out so it felt like Danger Partying. They had a day of the dead party so I blended in but I felt like some staff that recognized me were like staring at me all night. We still had fun and spoke about our Samhain experiences. My friend is also a medium so she gave me some ouija tips so hopefully that can help me in the future.

Sunday Morning

I went to a workshop in the food forest about fire starting!! It was beautiful and magical and the forest was in full autumn mode. I learned how to chop wood with different axes and carve wood and start fires with either two pieces of wood (which is extremely hard on your own like you better be in the dryest place possible and you better have a bow), and how to start fire with flint/magnesium which is 1000% easier would highly recommend. There's so much magic in nature and so much magic in those workshops. We learned which trees were best for firewood and which were toxic and how to use bark or forage for fire starter materials. I am getting more drawn to fire as an element to work with in magic so I loved learning the techniques and also that you can start fires with the back of a knife (the teacher had a specific wood carving knife that was thick) so its like if you get a specific Athame which is ruled by fire you could also use it to start fires too if you got a fire steel key. (It's a rod of magnesium and you'd strike it with the back of the knife hard and fast and sparks will shoot out like fireworks).

Anyway that was my week so far!! It was so much fun and adventurous I couldn't have asked for a better experience. I have today off so I had a moment to reflect and get myself together for work tomorrow but afterwork I am celebrating Bonfire night with my sag witch friend at Victoria park so I am excited to take part in that!

I hope you all had a great Samhain!

#halloween #personal #samhain #celebrations #I wish like every sabbat was this eventful #some parts could have been a movie #Some parts I wish I was more in the moment for but it was also a bit emotional with the retrograde

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quicksilversquared · 6 years ago

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Keeping Up With the Ladyblog

A reporter has to adapt and improvise. It's an important skill to learn, especially when one is a reporter who is still in school and can't skip out to film all of the akuma battles without getting grounded. So Alya gets creative and starts using old security camera footage of akuma attacks. It keeps the Ladyblog active and maybe, just maybe, she'll finally get her scoop of a lifetime.

links in the reblog

Initially, setting up the Ladyblog and getting a devoted userbase had been a bit of an uphill battle. Even though Alya had gotten noticed right away with her footage from the first fight, that didn't guarantee her a permanent position as the best-known blog on Paris's superheroes. Not covering a few fights would mean that someone else could sneak in and steal her spot, so that meant that even if she missed a little school here and there (or had to drag her sisters along during a fight), it was worth it. She had to stay on top of all things Ladybug and right then, that meant getting the best coverage of as many fights as she could physically manage and writing up good, thought-provoking articles for when there was a slow day or two.

(Of course, there were other problems that she had to deal with as well. Alya had to put together a functioning site that was user-friendly, could handle the traffic that she was getting, and offered everything that anyone could possibly want from an official superhero blog, because there was no. way. Alya was going to lose traffic just because some other blog had one option or another that she didn't have or because her blog went down from traffic overload at a critical moment. There were some places that she drew the line- she didn't accept fanfiction of the superheroes, because they were real people and therefore it would be weird, and only appropriate art was allowed- but she had to add all sorts of options so that people who visited the Ladyblog would come back over and over again. It was a lot of work and all had to be done fairly quickly, which meant that her homework sometimes got pushed off until later than it should have.)

Alya didn't consider setting up the blog itself to be that big of a problem, though. Software could usually be battered into submission if she worked on it for long enough, and as long as she didn't try any system updates to the Ladyblog when a lot of people were using it, short outages were usually not a big deal. It was the content that was more of a problem, especially now that her parents (and teachers) were on her back about not skipping school just to film attacks.

She just had to get creative.

Originally, Alya had considered trying to use her fame from being the sole moderator of the Ladyblog to see if she could get a get-out-of-class-free card during the attacks. Her teachers could just check her blog to make sure that she wasn't abusing the pass, she figured, and it wasn't as though most of her classes would be that hard to make up. But it didn't take long before Alya realized that that was just a pipe dream. No teacher would just let her go whenever just so she could keep up a blog when there were professional reporters out there as well that could film the attacks just as well (though Alya would argue with that). Besides, she sometimes had to bike across town to try to get footage, and there were times when it took so long that Ladybug and Chat Noir were already done when she got there. Without any footage, it was a waste of her time.

She had to play it smart. She couldn't just take footage from news channels, but what if there was other footage out there, unseen by most of the public? The Ladyblog already used fan submissions. People took pictures and videos of the superheroes all the time, and most didn't have any interest in starting their own superhero blog but were willing enough to share their superhero content online. Alya always spent a chunk of time every day sorting through the submissions and organizing them by akuma for easy reference.

Still, that wasn't quite enough. Alya had to go above and beyond if she didn't want to be replaceable.

Asking Mr. Kubdel about getting security camera footage from the Louvre partway through the year was a stroke of pure genius on her part. Getting it was a combination of luck, her fame as the Ladyblogger, and the fact that she knew Alix.

"They don't have the best angles in the world," Alya told Nino three days after Mr. Kubdel agreed to her request. She had just gotten the footage from all of the security cameras for the time frames of the last few akuma attacks that had gone through the museum, and digging through the video to find clips of the actual fight was taking a while. Some parts she could just fast-forward through, since the superheroes didn't go into that particular room, but she couldn't go too fast or she could miss the superheroes flashing by. "But I can't really complain. No one has any video of any of these fights yet, so this is incredible."

"It was super-nice of Mr. Kubdel to agree to it," Nino said as he watched the video over her shoulder. "Are you- whoop, there goes Chat Noir."

"Am I what?" Alya asked as she marked down the time Chat Noir entered and when he exited. "Ooh, look, that's a cool akuma!"

"It is a pretty cool design," Nino agreed. "Are you going to ask other places if you can get security camera videos from them, too? Like, there's some places that seem to have a lot of akuma fights go through them. School, the Eiffel Tower, the Grand Paris-"

Alya's eyes lit up at the mention of the last place. "Ooh! D'you think I could wrangle some footage of Chloe as Antibug? I kind of want to see some footage of her getting her ass handed to her by Ladybug and Chat Noir."

Nino cringed slightly. "...yeah, I wouldn't phrase it like that when you ask Mr. Bourgeois about it if I were you. He might say no just because of it." He considered that for a second, then added, "Actually, come to think of it, a lot of the akuma that pop up at his hotel tend to be after Chloe, right? So maybe he would say no if most of the footage you get is of Chloe being tormented, no matter how funny you find it. And he's not going to have anything from inside of the guest rooms, just the hallways and dining areas and whatnot."

Alya sniffed. "I'd be professional and include as much of the fight as I could find. Any compilations of Chloe being pursued by angry akumas would be completely unofficial and only posted to an anonymous YouTube account. Which I would then share with you guys, of course."

Nino laughed.

"I think I could persuade him to help, though," Alya decided, going back to the Louvre videos. "He's nice enough when Chloe isn't pushing him around. I'd just have to ask when Chloe isn't there. Maybe I could ask Sabrina's father for help to get footage from other places." She squinted at the screen, then stopped the video for a moment. Nino looked over and saw that it had gone all blurry and pixilated.

He frowned. "Uh, what happened to it? Is the file corrupted?"

"I don't know. It's happened a couple times before on other files, once near the start of this fight and twice again near the end of the first fight I looked at. I don't know what causes it." Alya rewound a little so she could get the last good frame of the superheroes and record the time so she could cut it there. "And... I know I kind of gave up on exposing Ladybug and Chat Noir's identities on the Ladyblog, but I kind of thought that I might catch them detransforming on the security cams. I wasn't going to post that part online, of course, but still..."

"Maybe they're just really good at moving out of the area first," Nino suggested. "That's gotta be tough, actually. I never thought about it. But there's so many cameras in buildings like that nowadays that they have to be super-careful so they don't get seen by others or by cameras!"

"They're bound to slip up sometime," Alya grumbled, opening another file and starting to fast-forward through it. "I really hope I don't miss an attack when I'm working on this. Like, it's gonna be great for my blog to have this footage and all, but it's the live stuff that people like the most."

The first of the spliced-together security camera footage hit the Ladyblog almost a week after Alya got the first batch of raw video. There was an immediate spike of interest, though, as Alya complained to Nino as they waited for Adrien and Marinette to arrive to work on their group project, some people were whining about favoritism getting her the tapes.

"It was just because I asked first," Alya grumbled, scrolling through the comments. "Because I thought of it first. And- oh! I forgot to tell you! Mr. Bourgeois said yes, I just have to figure out the dates and times of old attacks myself and give them to his security people. And I talked to the principal too, and to Sabrina's father. Mr. Damocles said yes, and Sabrina's father said that he would ask his supervisor and also people at Notre Dame and the Eiffel Tower about the security cameras at their individual sites." She was grinning now, momentary irritation gone. "It's gonna be a beast going through everything and getting my homework done, but it'll be worth it."

Nino frowned. "Are all of them gonna give you footage from past attacks? Some might discard video once a certain amount of time passes, or they might think that it's too much work to go back that far to get you the files."

Alya shrugged, face dropping slightly. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Still, going through the past stuff I do get plus new stuff is gonna be hard. At least spring break is coming up soon. Ish. Kinda. And then I can really plow through stuff once it's summer."

"You're gonna vanish into your room and never come out again," Nino joked. "You'll get all pale from lack of sun."

"I still gotta go out for livestreaming attacks," Alya reminded him. "And once I don't have homework to do, I don't think it'll take that long to mark and edit stuff. I can get through one per day for sure, maybe more. I can do it while I babysit my sisters, as long as they don't want to go anywhere."

Nino snorted. "Right, and the chances that they won't want to go out to the park or on a walk?" He shook his head at her. "But I can help with the timing stuff, so you can just focus on the splicing things together."

Alya grinned and leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips. "That would be great, Nino! Thank you so much!"

"You'll have to tell me how you want it done sometime before I start, but it really shouldn't be a problem," Nino assured her, grinning as he returned the kiss. "Though maybe we'll have time for you to show me before Adrien and Marinette arrive. Where are they, anyway?"

Alya just shrugged. "Who knows. I texted Marinette ten minutes ago to remind her we would be meeting, but no response yet. She might be in the middle of a project, and if she is, I don't wanna startle her. Last time I called her when she was busy sewing, she got started by her phone ringing and stabbed herself with a pin."

Nino cringed. "Ow. Yeah, I texted Adrien too, but no dice. No idea what he might be doing- oh, wait, here they come. Finally."

"And from the same direction too, hmm? Interesting!" Alya slid her laptop back into her bag and stood up, grinning as she watched Adrien and Marinette approach. "And neither of their houses are in that direction, either."

"We're here to study, not interrogate them," Nino reminded her. "Midterms, remember?"

"Oh, but come on-"

"You can interrogate them after, once we've gotten our studying done," Nino pointed out, grinning. "But I actually want to pass my classes, thank you very much."

There were times when Alya almost regretted starting to post the security camera footage. It was a lot to handle and process, and it ended up cutting into her article-writing time, which, well, she really liked writing those articles. It was one of the things that set the Ladyblog apart. But the old footage was popular, particularly when there was no good news coverage of the fight, and she could always prioritize which fights to edit together and which could maybe be set aside until she had more time.

It was after Alya was first tapped to become Rena Rouge when she realized how great of an idea it had been to start including the security footage from attacks on the Ladyblog. She couldn't cover her own fights- well, not that she was called for many of the akuma attacks, really- but she could still provide that footage, and it wasn't as though she had only started with that kind of footage after she became a superhero, so it wasn't going to raise any suspicion.

Well. Much suspicion, at least. There might be a few people who wondered why she could never cover Rena Rouge's fights, but there had been few enough of them so far that the pattern wouldn't be apparent. And if it continued- which, well, she hoped that it would- then she could always use her much improved video editing skills to "interview" Rena Rouge in person.

She was sure that Ladybug would let her borrow the Miraculous for a little extra time if she mentioned the need to throw people off of her trail. After all, Ladybug was very big on secrecy.

Most of the time, though, Alya loved her stroke of brilliance. It had been worth the security checks to make sure that she could be trusted with the security footage, and she had managed to shore up her views again. Future employers would see that she was focused and willing to put in the work, and well, she had gotten herself a fabulous reputation at the Louvre after she had spotted a shoplifter on the footage and let them know about it right away. It made her feel like a detective of sorts, discovering things that she wouldn't have otherwise.

And, well, summer was coming. Soon, she could get all caught up, and then Alya was sure that it wouldn't be quite so overwhelming.

"I figured it out!"

Nino glanced up at Alya as she slid into the empty spot at the table he was sitting at. From the other side of the table, Adrien and Marinette looked over at the reporter as well.

"What did you figure out?" Marinette asked, gaze immediately going to the tablet Alya was holding. She looked interested and inched closer. "Is it something to do with the Ladyblog?"

"It is!" Alya held up her tablet. "So you know how I've been putting together footage of the akuma fights from security cameras?"

Nino nodded. Both Adrien and Marinette looked puzzled. Alya groaned at them.

"Seriously? Have neither of you looked at the Ladyblog in weeks?! It's my big new thing!"

"I've been busy," they both claimed at once, before shooting each other startled looks. Alya narrowed her eyes at them both.

"Too busy to even glance at the Ladyblog once in a while, even now that school is almost out? Really?"

"I've glanced, but not looked into the archives at all," Marinette corrected herself. Then she frowned. "Wait, what do you mean, security camera footage?"

"Huh, I guess I must not have mentioned it to you before, either," Alya said, looking thoughtful. "Hm. Anyway, I've been contacting people at the Louvre and at the Eiffel Tower and Chloe's dad and Sabrina's dad and the principal to ask if I can get the raw security camera footage from the akuma fights that go through there, and they all said yes! So I've been going through that and splicing together stuff from different cameras to try to get as much of the fight covered as possible."

Now Adrien was frowning, too. "Really? They just happen to know which cameras Ladybug and Chat Noir have gone past?"

Now Nino snorted. "Of course not. They just basically give Alya all the footage from the cameras for the duration of the fight and she- well, we, I've been helping- have to go through and find which cameras Ladybug and Chat Noir went past and when."

For some reason, both Adrien and Marinette now looked deeply alarmed.

"Anyway, we've been noticing some weirdness on some of the clips," Alya told them. "It get corrupted for a bit, mostly near the start of the fight before the superheroes show up or after the akuma's been defeated but sometimes in the middle, too. I've been puzzling over it for the longest time, and I think I've finally figured it out!"

"Really?" Nino asked, interested and finally distracted from his strangely pale friends. "How?"

Alya grinned. "It was some comments on the Ladyblog that finally got me to notice the pattern. The corruption is either before Ladybug and Chat Noir show up or right after they vanish- or, in the middle of the fight, if one of them has to go recharge, then it happens then, too."

Nino blinked, then caught on. "So you're saying that somehow their magic is interfering with the cameras and protecting their secret identities?"

Alya pointed at him. "Exactly! I thought when I started all this that I might accidentally catch them transforming or see someone where they weren't meant to be, but their magic just means that they can't be caught on camera. It kind of makes me wonder if they always have that effect on cameras when they aren't transformed, or if it only pops up when they're about to transform or just detransformed."

Nino was so caught up in thinking about it that he completely missed Adrien and Marinette's identical sighs of relief as they both slumped in their seats. "It's gotta be the latter. Otherwise how would you explain people never getting a good picture of you, if it happened all the time?"

"Maybe Juleka is Ladybug, then," Marinette offered, giggling a little. "Remember, she was convinced that she had some sort of photo curse?"

"And now she's figured out how to manipulate the magic so that she can get normal photos again," Alya joked, sounding serious for a moment before she laughed. "Nah, she can't be, she was akumatized and fought Ladybug and Chat Noir. Remember that?"

Nino shuddered. "How could I forget? I was stuck in a skirt and high heels for ages!"

"I rocked the platforms," Adrien bragged. He grinned at Nino's raised eyebrow. "What? Sure, they were hard at first, but with a little practice..."

Nino just shook his head and groaned. "You would, dude. You must have been hidden, though. I couldn't find you after Reflecta left."

"Yeah, the outfit and the makeup would do that, probably," Adrien pointed out with a laugh. "I mostly decided to stay out of the way. And that fight didn't last that long. Ladybug and Chat Noir defeated her within an hour."

"Okay, fair."

"What would you do if you found something that told you who Ladybug or Chat Noir are?" Marinette asked, pulling the conversation back on track. "I mean, you can't see them transforming or detransforming, but if..."

Alya waved a hand. "Oh, I would destroy the footage as fast as possible. Hopefully I wouldn't recognize them-" though she wasn't certain about the probability of that, considering that Nino had been picked as a temporary superhero, too. What were the chances of that happening if Ladybug at least didn't know them to some extent? Unless of course it was a coincidence since she was the well-known Ladyblogger and Nino had already been out in the middle of the fight before Ladybug grabbed him- "and so it wouldn't matter if I saw them for two seconds."

Adrien looked astonished. "Really? I thought that was your dream, to figure out who they are! Not that I don't support the deleting thing," he added quickly. "That's probably safer for them. But what made you decide to change your mind?"

Well, she had become a superhero herself, for one. She had realized that she didn't really want the city to know her identity, because what if the akumas targeted her family and friends? And then Nino was a superhero, too, and what if people knew that and she became a target? She had figured that if she didn't want the city knowing her secret identity, she should probably extend the same courtesy to Ladybug and Chat Noir. And Heroes Day had proved that even superheroes knowing the secret identity of other superheroes wasn't necessarily safe. But instead of saying any of that, Alya just said "Well, I realized that it wouldn't be safe for them. And I figured that we should probably respect our superheroes' wishes since they've done so much for the city."

Adrien grinned. "That's very mature of you, Alya."

Alya just shrugged. Really, there had been so much more to it than she had let on. He was probably giving her too much credit, considering it had taken her being in the superheroes' shoes to realize what she had. "Yeah, well. I'll get a big scoop someday. I just refuse to have it at the superheroes' expense."

With the start of summer came more free time, and Alya attacked her backlog of footage with gusto. It was slowly shrinking as she and Nino dug into it with occasional help from Adrien or Marinette, deleting the superhero-less footage out and discarding it. It had become a bit of an obsession now that she had plenty of free time, and Alya had finally- finally!- figured out how to have several streams going at once on her screen and how to pause the others and switch to just one when there was footage that she wanted to watch more closely.

It made things go a lot faster, that was for sure. She was getting through a couple akuma attacks per day, and she finally had to start queuing things up so that the Ladyblog wouldn't get overwhelmed. One per day would be good, maybe two if they were short fights. Alya prioritized newer fights, too, knowing that the old ones were interesting but also old news. The newer fights generated more views and more interest, but it wouldn't be long before the next wave of akumas took over public interest.

Still, Alya loved having that old footage. She loved watching Ladybug and Chat Noir facing up against the akuma, and she loved seeing Ladybug's creativity when faced with a strange Lucky Charm. Their teamwork was so strong, and the way that they absorbed the occasional extra teammate and worked in those powers- yeah, it was pretty obvious why they had been chosen to be the city's main superheroes.

She was digging through her folders of akuma fight footage when she spotted a particularly large one. Alya frowned, puzzled- what, had the entire city been involved in the fight?- when she noticed the date. It was from Heroes Day.

"Oh yeah," Alya said eagerly, grinning as she clicked on the folder. This had been one of the battles that she really wanted footage for. All five superheroes at once in the boss battle? Yes please. All of the existing footage of the fight had been filled by possessed people, so it would be great to get literally anything else.

It was going to be difficult to piece together all of the bits of footage that were bound to be all over the city, but hey, it was summer and Alya could probably rope her friends into helping. And hey, if she could get Adrien roped in, he had several computer monitors. He could use all of them at once and have a ridiculous number of feeds going all at once. But Alya was impatient and wanted to get another look at the fight, so she flipped through the camera files until she found a set on the Eiffel Tower. They opened right before a fox-themed supervillain got there- and ugh, Alya immediately found herself annoyed. Another Volpina? Why were there so many people in Paris who seemed to have some sort of design on the Fox Miraculous?

Ugh. She was going to scour the footage to see if she could get a glance at this new Volpina's unakumatized identity. One Fox villain before Rena Rouge had showed up was one thing, but again? Nuh-uh.

Alya watched as once again, chaos descended on Paris. Volpina detransformed- uh, could Hawkmoth recall akumas? Then why had the baby akuma actually happened at all?- and revealed- uh, was that Lila? What was Lila doing in Paris? She had told the class that she was out of the country and wasn't going to be returning yet!

Okay, something was definitely up there. Maybe Marinette was on to something when she said that she didn't trust Lila. Especially when- they had talked to Lila on Heroes' Day, hadn't they? They had video chatted with her as a class. She had said that she was abroad, and it had looked like she was, too.

Strange. Alya was going to have to do some digging there for sure.

On-screen, the red butterflies descended on Paris. Alya winced as she remembered the terror that had reigned. They had been tricked by Volpina's illusions- and wait wait wait. Alya rewound the footage to when Lila detransformed and- oh, she looked disappointed when she was detransformed, as though she knew what she had been doing and had wanted to continue.

Even stranger. Also really, really concerning. Alya was going to put a hold on making any plans with Lila until she figured out what was going on there.

Alya continued watching. Red akumas found their mark, and Hawkmoth emerged, watching over the panic. Red bubbles bloomed into oversized akumas, and then... well, more chaos. There was screaming in the streets as people were turned into akumas and everyone else fled- well, there looked like there was screaming in the streets, at least. The cameras didn't pick up sound, which did take away from the experience, just a bit, but she could imagine what it would have sounded like.

The sheer amount of footage that Alya was getting from just the Eiffel Tower was astounding. She could only imagine how much she was going to get across the city, though the ice appearing now from the re-akumatized Frozer probably took at least a few of the feeds out. If she just played it all one camera at a time, it would be an insanely long video.

She might have to learn how to play several streams at once in a split screen. Hawkmoth would have to be shown at all times, Alya thought, and then she could do flashes of different akumas and also show the superheroes. They would fill the screen when they were doing an intense fight, maybe and-

Oh, Alya had so many ideas for the video already and she had only watched part of four streams so far. The number of akumas and the civilian resistance- which, by the way, amazing- meant that she could really play with angles and video cuts and oh, it was gonna be great.

It was also going to be a whole lot of work. Alya was probably going to spend the entire week picking out clips and then deciding which ones she wanted to use, and then it was going to be another few days of editing.

Hopefully her friends would be willing to help her out. They could blast through mostly-boring feeds in no time and get stuff trimmed down for her to review. Maybe she could even get Max to help her with the split-screen editing stuff, since he understood all of that technical talk.

Smiling widely, Alya turned back to her computer. Most of the footage at the moment was just Hawkmoth standing up on the Eiffel Tower with his two singers- and boy was Alya going to rake him over the coals for that, it was ridiculous- and so she had to wait for Ladybug and Chat Noir to head up like she knew they had. Thankfully the camera on that level wasn't iced over at all, like the ones on the lower levels were. This time, she had a front-row seat (abet at a bad angle) as she saw Lila get akumatized again (and boy was it interesting that Lila didn't look at all alarmed about the butterfly approaching her- she looked eager) and Volpina conjured up a second Hawkmoth while the real one hid.

And boy, was that ever an anxiety-inducing experience, watching Ladybug and Chat Noir approach the decoy while the real Hawkmoth hid down below, ready to surprise them from behind. Somehow Ladybug noticed him creeping up on them- and how, Alya had no idea how, she and Chat Noir seemed a bit distracted by trying to get Hawkmoth to do the right thing by turning over his Miraculous- and then they were fighting. Hawkmoth's cane-sword went down, but he didn't go down with it.

Alya sat up and watched as the three secondary users re-joined the fight just in time. She wondered where they had gone wrong, where they might have messed up and could have done better. The next bit was also the only example they had so far of the mysterious Peacock user's powers, and they needed to know what to expect in case they came into play again.

It wasn't that the Peacock's powers seemed that dangerous, at least not from what they had seen so far. Their team had just been taken off guard, and that gave Hawkmoth enough of a distraction to run off like the coward he was. Alya watched the giant moth vanish after Ladybug hit it, and she wondered if it would have vanished so easily if Ladybug had hit it when Hawkmoth was still there. Had the Peacock backed off as soon as Hawkmoth had retreated?

On one of the streams, the superheroes glanced around, trying to figure out where Hawkmoth had gone. Meanwhile, a Hawkmoth-shaped blob limped- had he been injured? They should have looked for him!- past one of the iced-over cameras, and then slumped down against a wall. Alya leaned forward, eager, as Hawkmoth sat there for a few seconds, likely shaken by the whole run-in.

Was he going to detransform? Had they really caught Hawkmoth on camera, after nearly a year of attacks? The ice on the camera would make it hard to see exactly who it was, but Ladybug's Miraculous Cure was bound to come zipping past any moment now. Was this her big scoop-?

"Ugh, and there's that distortion," Alya complained, flopping back in her chair as the already-fuzzy footage got even worse as a burst of purple lit up the screen. "C'mon, really? Can't his kwami not provide magical protection for him? The dude doesn't deserve it."

Alya sulked at the screen as a rush of red went by, clearing off the ice but doing nothing for the magical distortion. She could make out a bit of a shape on the screen, and colors- red and white- but no details, and static regularly cut across the already blurry picture. The static stayed there for longer than normal, and then the blurry, pixilated shape of civilian Hawkmoth finally got up, heading for the stairs. It was only once he had fully exited the frame that the picture finally snapped back into focus, one last bit of static cutting across the screen before the picture stabilized for good.

"Oh, come on," Alya groaned, flopping back on her bed. "That's so unfair that we were so close, and this freaking arse just- just waltzes out of there? Just walks away down the stairs and off of the tower and- and- ugh!" She slapped her fist down on the bed next to her- and then she froze. "Wait. Wait, wait, wait. He walked off of the Eiffel Tower. There have to be more cameras on the staircase and at the bottom. If he didn't detransform in front of those, would they have gone out, too?"

She didn't know. She had never really tracked other cameras from the area after the fights ended, so she didn't know if they had caught the civilian Ladybug and Chat Noir or not and she wasn't going to go back and look, not now that she knew now how dangerous it could be to have other people knowing a superhero's secret identity.

But now? There was absolutely no downside to finding out Hawkmoth's secret identity. It would be the biggest break of Alya's journalistic career.

Re-energized and laser-focused, Alya clicked back to her files, looking for the other cameras. It took a few tries for her to find the footage from the stair cameras and then she fast-forwarded to close to the end. There was a minute of anxious waiting, where Alya scanned the entire screen in case Hawkmoth had tried climbing down the side of the stairs or something ridiculous like that, and then a pair of feet appeared, headed slowly and almost unsteadily down the stairs. Before the feet could go down any further, though, the footage came to an end.

Alya let out a frustrated snarl and rewound the video a few seconds, pausing it right before it came to an end. Only a pair of perfectly white shoes and the hem of bright red pants came into view.

Those... those pants looked really familiar. Alya frowned as she stared at them. She couldn't quite place them, but maybe Marinette could, if Alya brought the footage over the next time that she went to Marinette's house. But that was stupid, Alya decided after a moment of mulling it over. Maybe they knew someone with pants like that, but there were several million people living in Paris. There was no guarantee that there weren't other people making the same (awful) fashion choices.

"So close," Alya complained aloud, glaring at her screen. If only Mr. Raincomprix had sent footage that was a few seconds longer! Except- oh, that was it! All she had to do was email him and ask for the footage from the lower-level cameras running from maybe a minute before the end of the fight to several minutes after the current end time. That would be sure to get her lots of footage of Hawkmoth, and surely he would be recognizable in some of it.

She had to hope that the footage still existed and it hadn't been written over at all. It would be close- it had been over two months since that battle- but Alya knew that she had gotten older footage from the Eiffel Tower before.

Hopefully that stuff hadn't just been saved for longer because of the akuma attack.

Excited, Alya turned back to her computer. If she was going to file a request for more footage and hoped to get it in a reasonable amount of time, she needed to have all of the information possible- what the camera IDS were, the exact date and times that she wanted were, everything. Just to be sure, Alya checked her other files to see which cameras would be focused on either the place where Hawkmoth detransformed or the stairs that he had gone down, writing the code for every last one down. Once she had that, she folded up the list and stuffed it in her pocket as she raced for the door.

"Alya, remember that you're going to be babysitting the twins in two hours," he mom called out as Alya raced past. "You'll be back by then, right?"

Alya had to bite down the frustrated noise that nearly escaped because even though this was critical, this was huge, it wasn't as though she couldn't wait a little longer to review the footage. And she could review the footage while sitting out at the kitchen counter with her sisters watching a movie in the living room, it would just be harder. "Yeah, I'll be back!"

And hopefully, she would come back with the footage that would change everything.

Officer Raincomprix was all too willing to bring Alya over to the Eiffel Tower to get more of the footage, all without her having to explain anything. He showed her to the people she needed to talk to and then trotted off to deal with a littering teenager while Alya was ushered inside of the office. The staff were all helpful, and soon Alya was leaving with everything she needed, with no questions asked.

She supposed that it was good that all of the adults were so busy, because she didn't exactly want to explain. Really, Ladybug and Chat Noir should be the first ones to know about Hawkmoth's identity.

Alya jogged back towards her family's apartment, memory stick clutched tightly in her hand. On it, she hoped, would be evidence that would show her Hawkmoth's identity. She was nearly back to her building when she ran smack-dab into a very familiar figure.

"Yo, I was just looking for you!" Nino exclaimed, pulling Alya up. He bent back over to grab the memory stick that she had dropped before the passing pedestrians could kick it away and handed it back to her. "I was trying to text you earlier, but I didn't get any response."

Alya winced. "I'm so sorry! I just got really distracted by my video editing. I opened up the folder for Heroes' Day and I got really distracted."

"Oh, that was a crazy fight. I bet there was a ton of footage. Well, until everything got all icy, at least." Nino glanced down at her as they continued down the sidewalk. "So can I ask why you were out? You look out of breath."

"Not out here," Alya warned immediately. She didn't want a passerby overhearing and trying to grab the memory stick to grab the discovery for themselves. "Come inside with me. I can tell you there, and at any rate I have to be back in-" she checked her phone- "fifteen minutes anyway to babysit my sisters."

Nino followed without question, looking interested.

"So did you find something interesting in the footage?" Nino asked curiously. "You must have. Or was there footage missing, was that why you were out?"

"Not quite," Alya told him, grinning. "I needed more footage, yeah, but it wasn't during the middle of the fight. It was at the end, because I almost had Hawkmoth's civilian self on tape."

"You- what?" Nino asked, freezing for a few seconds before jogging up the stairs alongside her again. "You think you have Hawkmoth on tape? I thought that the magic messed with the cameras!"

Alya grinned. "It does. But where he detransformed- he had to go down the stairs, and there's another camera there. Before, I could see his shoes and the hems of his pants, but now I have an extended clip of the video! It should show him coming down the stairs into sight."

Nino looked impressed. "Oh, that is amazing. But what if it's not someone you know? I mean, there's a lot of people in Paris."

"Well, I'll turn the video over to Ladybug and Chat Noir. They can decide if they want to get the police involved. They might recognize the guy, too." Alya was assuming that she wouldn't recognize Hawkmoth, but she supposed that it was a possibility. "Or we could help by asking Max if he can run some sort of face recognition thing, so that they don't have to go to the police. I'm worried that the police might try to take over themselves and end up getting really hurt by underestimating him."

"Yeah, they might try to do that. Freaking adults, thinking that they know better than the actual experts." Nino shook his head, disgusted. "But do you think Max can do that? I mean, I know he's good at computers, but face recognition- that sounds like he would have to tap into files from, like, ID cards or something."

Alya shrugged. She supposed that was true, but Max was crazy smart and also had Markov. She was sure that if she asked, he would try to see what he could do for her.

"So are you gonna look at the footage now?" Nino asked as they reached her floor. "I thought you said that you have babysitting to do."

"I do, but I wanna at least look at the footage first, if I can." Alya pulled out her keys to open the apartment door. "And I was planning on just putting on a movie and some snacks for my sisters so that they stay out of trouble while I work. They should stay out of trouble that way."

Nino gave her a supremely dubious look. "Your sisters, staying out of trouble?"

"I'd still be in the room! And it's not like I would have headphones in or anything."

"...would you like me to stay there while you do your video stuff?"

"That would be amazing," Alya told Nino, leading him into the apartment. She waved to her mom as they headed down the hallway. "But I still have time to get this done before my mom has to leave!"

Nino glanced at the clock on the wall. "Uh, babe, you only have ten minutes."

"Do you really think I can't get this done in ten minutes?" Alya led the way into her room and wriggled her mouse, waking her laptop up. "You know me better than that. I know exactly where to look in the footage."

"And you really think you'll be able to focus on looking after kids once you've seen Hawkmoth's face?"

...Alya had to admit that that was a very good point.

"I can show you the footage leading up to the end while the computer recognizes my memory stick," Alya told Nino as she plugged the new flash drive in. She rewound the footage. "See, here's Hawkmoth escaping- but he didn't go far!"

"That ice on the cameras is annoying," Nino commented as the footage played. "Is all of it like that?"

"A few cameras were spared, I think," Alya told him. "Including the one on the main level, thank goodness. I mean, there's a few blurry spots from where the ice extended onto the lens a little bit, but it's mostly clear."

"Oh, and now it's worse," Nino added. "He detransformed right in front of the camera, holy cow."

"Yeah, I was really hoping that the distortion would go away since he seemed to be hanging around, but no such luck." Alya watched as on-screen, the ice cleared away and Hawkmoth finally got up, heading for the stairs. "So watch here- there's no one besides him and the superheroes on the Tower, right? Well, them and Lila, but that's beside the point. It got evacuated pretty fast, and anyone who didn't get off got akumatized or hit by Dark Cupid. So he's headed for those stairs."

"So whoever comes down is Hawkmoth, right," Nino agreed. Then he paused. "Wait, you said Lila? But she was abroad!"

"Apparently she lied." Alya stopped the tapes right where Hawkmoth's feet appeared on the stairs. "Okay, so the stuff that I got should start about thirty seconds before the end of these, so there's some overlap."

A tension rose in the room as Alya got the new files set up to play. She kept glancing at the clock while things loaded, watching as the time for her to move into the living room ticked closer and closer.

She wouldn't be able to stand it if she had to stop at this point. Even if it was only for a short break while she said good-bye to her mom and got the twins set up with their movie and their snacks, she couldn't. She was so, so close.

This had to work.

"Loaded," Alya announced as soon as the program was ready. "And here we go!"

She and Nino leaned forward as they watched the feed from the stairs on the screen. There were thirty seconds of anxious waiting, and then Hawkmoth's shoes appeared on the stairs. They headed down unevenly, revealing the red pants cuffs once again.

"Oh, he's shaken," Nino murmured, a grin evident in his voice. "Super shaken. Serves the asshole right."

Another step, more of the pants were revealed. They watched in anxious silence as the red pants gave way to a very familiar ivory jacket, then a striped necktie, and then Hawkmoth took one more step down the stairs, head hanging down as he made his way down the Eiffel Tower.

And much to Alya's surprise, she recognized the face that went with those atrocious fashion choices, even at this angle. And from Nino's sharp inhale, she knew that he had, too.

"Well," Nino managed after a minute of trying to find his words. "This is bad."

And with that, Alya could only agree.

#Miraculous Ladybug #My writing #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #in which Alya actually acts like a reporter

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itallcomesdown · 4 years ago

Text

Cloud 9s

The waves, ever so gently colliding into one another as they collapsed onto the beach, provided the perfect soundtrack to Nicky's breakdown.

Not too loud, not too harsh.

Soft and low like the tears running down her cheeks.

This wasn't Nicky’s first time weeping at the edge of the ocean. In fact, she was well into the double digits at this point and likely to hit triple before she closed out her third decade.

The first time she made the short drive to the shore for the express purpose of crying, she'd felt a little ridiculous. There was nothing wrong with her bedroom but something drew her to the drama of grey skies and sea breezes.

That's one of the perks of living by the water, depressive episodes seem more cinematic.

Today's helping of woe was served up by a call from her mother which, if you read a transcript, should have been totally normal but was, as always, specifically designed to destroy her.

"Darling."

Nicky cringed but replied sweetly. She could only hope to survive by mirroring her mother's tone.

"Darling, I'm so glad to hear from you. Your father and I do worry so much."

The first blow.

What was there to worry about? Her parents had checked in with her twice a week, every week, for years and Nicky had never shared even a passing comment that would indicate she was anything other than perfectly happy.

Now, was she? No, of course not. She was regularly crying by herself at the beach, but her parents didn't know that. Nobody knew that.

Nicky gave the verbal equivalent of a hand wave as a response. Life was all sunshine.

"Are you sure? You don't sound well."

She sounded the same as she had sounded the last time her mother had insisted that she'd sounded unwell. The same as all the times her mother had insisted she’d sounded unwell which was every time they spoke.

Another spoken hand wave. The salty air was in her throat, nothing more.

"I did say when you decided to move up there that the sea air would be bad for your lungs."

Lungs! How had this become about lungs? Last time it was "something something, microscopic sand particles are lacerating your vocal chords".

Nicky couldn't get the image of sliced, white bands out of her dreams for a week.

"You need to see someone or it will get worse. I'll speak to Dr Kline and see if she knows anyone you can go to down there."

Why?! From 16 words spoken over a patchy internet connection, her mother had decided that intervention was necessary.

Nicky’s chest tightened as she made a mental note to avoid clearing her throat for the rest of the call lest it fan the flames in her mother's mind. She kept her voice even in her response but made sure to not attempt firmness as she insisted that she was fine. Resistance only strengthened her mother's resolve.

"Jerry, remind me give Marsha a call tomorrow about Nicky's lungs."

Nicky imagined her father, somewhere off camera, giving a silent thumbs up to his wife.

Marsha Kline was not a doctor of medicine. She was a wonderful woman and a very accomplished professor of art history who had been friends with Nicky’s mother for longer than Nicky had been alive. Dr Kline was also very convinced that western medicine was a death cult and any medication not administered in tea form was bad for you.

"Don't roll your eyes, Nicky. I'm only doing my job as your mother. Someone has to look after you."

Blow 5?

The subtle difference between "out for" and "after" in a sentence like that would go unnoticed by most, but Nicky had been playing this game with her mother for all of time. Her mother used "out for" when referring to all adults except Nicky.

Now, you might think that's totally reasonable. Mother's always look after their children and that doesn't mean the semantic difference is some kind of dig. Except Nicky was the oldest of three children and the only one who her mother felt needed looking after.

"You did roll them, Nicky. I'm not going to argue, but you did. I used to be able to hear it in your voice over the phone but now that we are on Soom I can see it."

Nicky bit her tongue and tried to keep her jaw relaxed.

Where had the call gone wrong this time?

She should have suggested the call to Dr Kline herself. That way her mother wouldn't have been primed to fight about it.

At least this time she let "Soom" slide.

"Anyway, your sister and I had a lovely chat yesterday. The boys are doing great, she and Pat are looking really lean with the marathon coming up. Have you spoken to her?"

Marriage, children, weight. The self-esteem trifecta, all in one beautifully benign sentence. Nicky almost admired the efficiency.

Claire should have been born first. She was third in birth order but seemed to have decided from an early age to reach every available milestone before Nicky could make a meaningful attempt.

"You really should talk to her more. And James. Both of them really worry about you."

At this point, Nicky had accepted that she would be going to the beach as soon as the call was over. Why waste a day or two trying to hold it together when all she would be thinking about is the family meeting she hadn't been invited to where everyone did the sad head tilt as they talked about her.

"James is always saying he's happy to have you if you need somewhere to stay."

Somewhere to stay.

Nicky had a perfectly lovely apartment with her own office, a parking space and a gorgeous view but because she didn't have a mortgage, her family talked about her as if she was homeless.

"It doesn't have to be long term. Just until you're on your feet"

Would this be after her newly signed 2-year lease or would James buy that out for her?

"I'm sure he could afford it."

He probably could.

"You don't have to. I'm just putting it out there so you don't feel stuck and alone."

If Nicky had to pick a title for her autobiography, it would be "Stuck and Alone". Even at work where everyone was different from each other, she felt completely out of place. Like a puzzle piece you jam into the wrong section because it looks like it should work but when you take it in as part of the picture, something's off.

"You said you would think about it last time. I know you, you're stubborn but now is not the time for stubbornness. People are trying to help you."

The hardest part about these calls would always be having to defend her contentment when it seemed like everyone else thought she was drowning. Nicky wasn't sad about the life she had built for herself. She was sad that it seemed too small and pathetic for those she loved.

"Just call your siblings. If you've lost their numbers, I'll send them to you. Jerry, remind me to send Nicky the numbers."

Nicky sometimes distracted herself by imagining her father as a sort of humanoid smart speaker with steely mesh for skin, warm glowing eyes and a permanently erect thumb that shone green when a command had been accepted.

The speaker was called Greymax and it always made Nicky smile.

"What's funny? I know you think I'm a silly old woman so you might as well let your laugh out."

Nicky exaggerated her eye roll and sighed. It broke the tension and they both chuckled a bit but they probably couldn't tell you why. Sadness lingered behind both smiles.

"Anyway, nothing to report on this side since our last chat so I'll let you go. I'm sure you have lots of work to do for your fancy new show."

Nicky performed pleasantries with her cheek between her teeth.

It took her less than twelve minutes to reach her usual spot from the end of the call, a personal best, and less than twenty seconds to achieve full body sobs, another personal best.

The actual crying wasn't particularly intense on this occasion. Hard crying just added physical hurt to the emotional despair.

One time, she had attracted the attention of a couple of youths on what looked like a first date. They were shy and gentle but visibly concerned. Nicky was mortified.

From then on she sat in a partially enclosed opening on the side of a sheer rock face and avoided excessive wailing. Sometimes she'd get a curious bird or a tiny crustacean but, for the most part, human contact had been limited to surprised stares.

The time on her phone told her that she had been out there for twenty minutes. That was more than enough for one day and should tide her over until the following week if everything stayed calm at work.

Nicky imagined herself, in another universe, choosing to jog through her inner anguish. Smartphone strapped to her upper arm, smartwatch keeping track of her movements and bluetooth earphones delivering alternate universe pop into her ears. Was that worth a try?

Imagination Nicky was exactly as good at her job and bad at relationships, she just had a comfortable pair of running shoes. That was totally attainable but Real Nicky had always resisted. Crying sucked but it was cleansing and felt natural. Running felt like someone else's thing that she was putting on to prove a point.

When Nicky got back home, she ordered an inexpensive but well reviewed pair of running shoes. The product description painted a vivid picture of how impossibly soft these shoes were, at a fraction of the price charged by other brands. Confirmed buyers wrote formulaically about never needing another shoe again and buying pairs for friends. Nicky never read any of that though because she chose them exclusively for the price and availability for next day delivery.

The shoes arrived but remained in their box for days. Nicky passed them every time she entered her bedroom, making a mental note to try them on, even if only to check the fit, but quickly forgot.

Her mother's next call came and went without incident. A neighbour had to be hospitalised and their pet's needed a temporary home so the entire call was consumed by intro to the pup and solemn predictions regarding the neighbours fate. The prognosis was pretty good but Nicky's mother was certain big pharma was gunning for him. Dr Kline had been consulted, of course.

Teas had been ordered and special instructions repeated in hushed tones but the call was fine.

Nicky was fine.

Usually, the down time between calls was a safe zone where Nicky could stock up on the mundane joys of life but the shoes had been ordered so the universe needed to make sure they were used.

James sent a picture to the group chat. Two little lines on a white stick. Congratulations all around. Wonderful news!

That evening the phone rang.

"I'm trying to convince your brother to move into a bigger house so there is room for you and the baby but Ryan is acting as if I've gone crazy. Can you believe it?"

Nicky finally got to the beach after an hour and a bit. Turns out the shoes really were baby clouds with laces, but it's hard to run when your chest is heaving.

Next time she would have to drive to the beach, then cry while running.

Fewer witnesses and, again, more cinematic.

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wantisamlindyla · 7 years ago

Text

Your Ghost - Chapter 1

New York, 1999.

He wanted her to live again, even if she could only come back to him through the pages of a book.

A/N: Hi all. I’ve been sitting on this for a while I finally decided to post the first chapter. I have a rough outline but I don’t know how many chapters there are going to be, maybe 6? This is AU, Mileven, takes place 15 years after Eleven disappeared. Most of season 2 still happened, but there was no Mike/Eleven Reunion at the end of episode 8. Will eventually post on Ao3, but I dunno when I’m gonna get my invite to set up an account. Enjoy!

28 October 1999

“Ladies and gentlemen thank you for coming here today. There will be a book signing of this amazing book after this session. Now, the reason for why we are all here today, and why some of you have been lining up outside the venue all night, is currently backstage, waiting patiently for me to stop nerding out and pull myself together to introduce him!

After publishing his first novel and topping the New York bestseller’s list at only the age of 23, he is here tonight to talk about his newest novel, titled the Ides of Winter, and the third book in the world famous Montauk series. Everybody, please join me in welcoming to the stage, Michael Wheeler!”

***

It was one month and 17 days into the book tour. Mike had one more stop in New York before he could call it a day and go home.

He was so goddamned tired, he still had several book signings, an interview with the New Yorker (with that pretentious prig, Howell), a TV appearance on the Today Show, and, a few radio interviews, before he can escape back to the Lake house in Lovell, Maine which he now called home.

It’s not all bad news though. New York means seeing Will again for the first time since Christmas.

Not that Mike has completely lost all touch with his old friends, quite on the contrary.

After graduating from a fine arts course at his brother’s alma mater, NYU, Will had decided to stay in the city. He’d eventually landed an unpaid internship at a small start up animation studio. Now Will split his time travelling back and forth from California to New York as the head character designer on a number of superhero animated cartoons that Mike watched religiously on Saturday mornings.

It wasn’t hard to stay in touch with Will, it was just that this last year had been manic. Mike had barely fit in time for sleep what with working frantically to get his novel finished, having to attend stressful and tense meetings with his editor, forcing himself to return his lawyers’ phone calls about a copyright infringement litigation his publishers had commenced on his behalf, and having to deal with ideas about for the short story anthology he had been working on springing up at the most inconvenient times.

He and Will still managed to talk every other day though, either by telephone or AIM.

Ever since Nancy and Jonathan officially became a couple around Christmas of ‘84, Jonathan and Will became regular dinner guests at the Wheeler residence. He and Will had become almost inseparable, more than anybody in the party.

During his parents’ divorce, which took place during Mike’s sophomore year of high school, with Nancy and Jonathan away at college, Mike spent more and more time at the Byers’ residence, trying to escape the tensions at home, right up until he left for college in ‘89.

At college, Mike made new friends, attended dumb keg parties, dated girls, but he never lost touch with Dustin, Will, Lucas, or Max.

You didn’t help save the end of the world with your friends, twice, and then drift away from them over trivial things like distance and attending different colleges.

In fact, Mike had just met up with Dustin only a few months ago. Dustin had been in Maine for some reason connected with his annoyingly mysterious job.

After Dustin had graduated from MIT he had immediately been recruited by a secretive tech company in California. Dustin couldn’t talk about where he worked or what he did at his job. Whenever people asked him where he worked he’d tell them Cyberdyne Systems with a straight face.

He and Dustin had attended the Phantom Menace premiere together with Dustin’s then-girlfriend, Cindy. The boys had left the movie theatre deflated and heartsore while Cindy had tried valiantly to console them by saying all the wrong things.

Dustin called Mike a few weeks later to inform him that he and Cindy were no longer going out.

“I had to dump her Mike, she said she thought Jar Jar Binks was cute. Also she refused to share her food with me when we went out.”

“So?”

“So? So? It’s weird. We go out for Italian and I end up having to eat an entire Pepperoni pizza on my own, which I don’t really mind, but then her ravioli looks good too, but she won’t let me have any because she likes us to have our own meals. And don’t even get me started on that time I took her to Wang’s Treasure Palace.”

Besides those occasional and surprising visits during the year there was always Christmas and New Years at Lucas and Max’s place to look forward to.

Of all of them only Lucas and Max had opted to return to Hawkins. Lucas quit his mechanical engineering job and got a position as an assistant professor, teaching at the community college only after a few years in Chicago. Max got a job as a mechanic at a garage. They bought a house, got married, and got busy starting a family.

Mike smiled at the memory of last year’s Christmas.

He’d practically lived at Lucas and Max’s house the whole time he was there since the picture perfect Wheeler family Christmases that his mom had worked so hard to create during his childhood was now only a distant memory.

Nancy preferred to spend her Christmases in New York with Jonathan and Mrs Byers. The Wheeler home had been sold a few years ago when Holly had left to go to college. Holly preferred to spend her holidays in Chicago with her boyfriend’s family.

His mom was away on another cruise, and, his dad was busy with wife number two.

So, Mike spent his Christmas and News Years at the Sinclairs. He’d taught their three-year-old son, Robbie, how to build a snowman. He conducted a twelve-hour D & D Campaign, pelted Dustin with snowballs, watched a pregnant Max eat all the ice-cream and listened to her complain about how gassy pregnancy made her, watched a star wars marathon and gorged on pizza on Christmas day (just because Max was the only girl in the party did not mean that she would be cooking and cleaning for four man-child wastoids who liked to mooch off her and Lucas).

Mike considered a detour to Hawkins for a visit after New York so he could meet the newest addition to the Sinclair family, baby Grace, who was about to turn 6 months old. He decided to bring it up with Will tonight at dinner.

Mike pulled himself back to the present and to the interviewer who was introducing him to her broadcast audience.

“You’re listening to Terry Gross on Fresh Air. Joining us today is Michael Wheeler, author of the best selling book series, Montauk. The series is set in the 60s, in the small town of Montauk in upstate New York, the town is haunted by the misdeeds of its occupants.

The main protagonist is Millie, a brave young girl, with a few secrets of her own.

When Millie’s best friend, Noah, goes missing in mysterious and sinister circumstances, she sets out on a journey into the woods near the town to find him. The first two books in the series have already sold over 80 million copies worldwide and a movie adaptation of the first novel is currently in the works. The third book in the series, Ides of Winter, was released recently.

Michael was only 23 when the first novel in the series was published. He was awarded the Hugo Award for best new author in ‘95 and he has been named one of Time’s most influential people of the year. Michael thank you so much for joining us today.”

“Of course, thank you for having me.”

Terry was one of the best interviewers Mike had the pleasure of meeting. Her soft spoken and inquisitive questions put him immediately at ease, so much so that so he almost forgot he was being interviewed on radio.

He didn’t forget to lie though.

When Terry asked him about where he’d drawn inspiration from for his twelve-year-old girl protagonist, he told her Millie was a blend of himself and the two sisters whom he’d grown up with.

When Terry asked him what drew him to the supernatural and horror themes prevalent in his novels, he only talked about the books and authors he’d read growing up.

“Michael, my favourite chapter of your second novel is the Cave of Horrors. I’m sure you get that a lot. I just wanted to ask you about that chapter, because it’s pivotal, its when Millie comes to believe that she may have truly lost her friend forever, and you write so well about grief, and loss, and the trauma associated with that at such a young age. I guess what I wonder is, was this kind of loss something you had experience with?”

Mike pauses for a long moment.

He doesn’t know what it was, perhaps it’s the kindness in Terry’s voice.

Maybe it was the year he’d just had, it’d been especially difficult.

Maybe it was the tour.

Maybe it was the thought of that big empty lake house waiting for him at the end of the tour.

Maybe he’s just so tired of the lies and the bullshit. He didn’t really even understand why he still did it; it’s as natural as breathing, but its been almost 15 years. All the men who could punish him or his friends for saying the wrong thing are long gone.

He doesn’t know why or what it is, but all of a sudden his chest feels as if it’s been cracked wide open and its like everyone can see the wound inside him, vulnerable and raw as the day it happened. He wants to tell the world about her, he wants to scream it from the top of the Empire State Building.

He’s twelve years old again, he can smell the tang of blood and the smoke of ashes that had never touched fire. He can hear the violent and desperate screams of a dying creature ringing in his ears and in between darkness and the flickering fluorescent lights, he sees her eyes, tired, resigned, and filled with pain.

Goodbye Mike.

He wanted her to live again, even if she could only come back to him through the pages of a book.

So he’d saved her the only way he knew how. She came back to life by people reading his book, by growing to love and adore Millie, the brave and wonderful girl that would face monsters and death in order to save her friends.

“I….I lost a friend when I was a kid Terry. I don’t really speak about it often. But the way that it happened….it was violent and sudden. I don’t think I was able to come to grips with it for many years. It’s hard to admit sometimes, I think I lie to myself about it, but so much of her is in my writing.”

Terry nodded thoughtfully even though though the gesture won’t be captured by the microphone.

“Did writing help you with dealing with that loss?”

Mike answered honestly, “I don’t know. Some days I think it’s made it worse, because she’s with me, everyday. I live and breathe the loss of her in work. But its just become inseparable from me, the pain. I think it’s just like an arm, or a leg. You heal, but you’re not ever the same. And you never really forget what you lost.”

#mike/eleven #mileven #fanfic #stranger things #au mileven #chapter 1 #authormike

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scrummethodologiestrainingw-blog · 4 years ago

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What Is Agile Methodology? Tools, Best Practices & More

Just about every technologies Firm these days seems to exercise the agile methodology for software package development, or perhaps a Edition of it. Or at the very least they feel they are doing. Whether you are new to agile software enhancement or you learned program development many years in the past utilizing the waterfall software package enhancement methodology, nowadays your perform is at the least motivated with the agile methodology. https://pm.mba/posts/waterfall-vs-agile/

But what on earth is agile methodology, And the way really should or not it's practiced in software program development? How does agile enhancement differ from waterfall in follow? What's the agile application progress lifecycle, or agile SDLC? And what is scrum agile vs . Kanban and various agile models?

Agile was formally introduced in 2001 when seventeen technologists drafted the Agile Manifesto. They wrote four significant rules for agile undertaking administration, with the aim of building superior computer software.

Right before Agile: The era of waterfall methodology. Old fingers like me recall the times when the waterfall methodology was the gold common for computer software enhancement. The computer software growth method demanded a huge amount of documentation up entrance prior to any coding started off. Another person, commonly the business enterprise analyst, very first wrote a company demands document that captured every little thing the business desired in the application. These company need paperwork have been prolonged, detailing every thing: overall technique, comprehensive purposeful requirements, and Visible user interface types. [Source]

Technologists took the small business necessity doc and made their own personal technological prerequisites doc. This doc outlined the applying’s architecture, info constructions, object-oriented useful designs, consumer interfaces, along with other nonfunctional specifications.

This waterfall computer software improvement system would eventually kick off coding, then integration, and finally tests in advance of an application was considered production Completely ready. The whole process could simply acquire two or three many years.

We builders have been anticipated to grasp “the spec,” as the complete documentation was referred to as, just along with the documents’ authors did, and we have been often chastised if we forgot to adequately put into practice a essential element outlined on website page 77 of a two hundred-webpage doc.

Back again then, computer software development alone also wasn’t uncomplicated. Several progress applications necessary specialised teaching, and there wasn’t any place near the open supply or professional software elements, APIs, and Internet products and services that exist currently. We needed to acquire the very low-amount things which include opening database connections and multithreading our information processing.

For even basic apps, groups had been large and conversation resources have been constrained. Our technical technical specs ended up what aligned us, and we leveraged them just like the Bible. If a prerequisite transformed, we’d place the business leaders through a extended technique of overview and sign off because speaking alterations across the staff and correcting code was costly.

As the software was designed depending on the complex architecture, reduced-level artifacts were being created initial and dependent artifacts afterward. Jobs had been assigned by ability, and it had been common for database engineers to construct the tables and also other database artifacts first, followed by the applying developers coding the performance and small business logic, then at last the consumer interface was overlaid. It took months before any one saw the applying Functioning and by then, the stakeholders were receiving antsy and often smarter about what they truly wished. No wonder employing alterations was so high priced!

Not all the things you put in front of end users labored as anticipated. Occasionally, consumers wouldn’t make use of a element at all. Other times, a ability was widely prosperous but required reengineering to assist the mandatory scalability and effectiveness. Inside the waterfall globe, You merely acquired these things after the software was deployed, after a long enhancement cycle.

Invented in 1970, the waterfall methodology was revolutionary as it introduced discipline to application progress to make certain there was a clear spec to stick to. It had been based upon the waterfall production strategy derived from Henry Ford’s 1913 assembly line innovations, which furnished certainty as to each phase inside the manufacturing method to ensure that the ultimate product or service matched what was spec’d to start with.

Once the waterfall methodology arrived into the computer software environment, computing techniques as well as their programs had been generally complicated and monolithic, requiring a self-discipline and crystal clear outcome to deliver. Requirements also transformed slowly compared to now, so significant-scale initiatives have been less problematic. Actually, programs have been designed beneath the idea they might not improve but would be perpetual battleships. Multiyear timeframes were being popular don't just in software program growth but will also in producing along with other business activities. But waterfall’s rigidity became an Achilles heel in the online world period, wherever pace and flexibility had been required. [Reference]

Computer software growth methodology commenced to alter when developers started working on Net purposes. Plenty of the early operate was performed at startups where groups were smaller sized, were being colocated, and often did not have common Laptop or computer science backgrounds. There were economic and competitive pressures to carry Internet sites, programs, and new capabilities to industry a lot quicker. The development instruments and platforms altered swiftly in response.

This led many of us Operating in startups to concern waterfall methodology and to search for approaches to be more economical. We couldn’t afford to pay for to complete the entire thorough documentation up front, and we wanted a far more iterative and collaborative approach. We continue to debated changes to the necessities, but we had been more open to experimentation and to adapting to end-person desires. Our organizations were being much less structured and our applications were fewer intricate than organization legacy methods, so we ended up much more open to creating vs . shopping for purposes. Much more importantly, we were looking to grow organizations, so when our people instructed us a little something wasn’t Doing the job, we more often than not chose to pay attention to them.

Our abilities and our abilities to innovate became strategically vital. You might raise all the money you needed, however , you couldn’t catch the attention of (Reference) talented software builders in a position to work with rapidly modifying Net systems when you have been going to take care of them as subservient coders slavishly following “the spec.” We turned down job professionals coming in with finish-to-end schedules describing what we should always develop, when applications really should ship, and from time to time even the way to structure the code. We have been terrible at hitting the 3-month and 6-thirty day period schedules that the waterfall undertaking managers drafted and unceasingly up to date.

Instead, we started to explain to them how Online programs necessary to be engineered, and we sent outcomes on the program that we drew up iteratively. It turns out we weren’t that bad at delivering what we reported we might when we committed to it in tiny, just one-7 days to four-week intervals.

In 2001, a gaggle of skilled application developers bought with each other and realized which they were collectively practising software improvement otherwise from the classical waterfall methodology. They usually weren’t all in startups. This group, which bundled know-how luminaries Kent Beck, Martin Fowler, Ron Jeffries, Ken Schwaber, and Jeff Sutherland, arrived up Together with the Agile Manifesto that documented their shared beliefs in how a modern application enhancement method should really work. They stressed collaboration in excess of documentation, self- Group in lieu of rigid administration practices, and the ability to manage to continual change instead of lock yourself into a rigid waterfall development process. (Source)

From All those concepts was born the agile methodology for application development.

youtube

#agile #scrum #management #projects

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dianamjackson · 5 years ago

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Dance (2020)

“What you can’t have with a man, you’ll experience onstage, ten times as intensely! Ten times? A hundred! Sublimated… As if I were making love with God? That’s right, you can dance everything, understand almost everything through music. Go on, get dressed!” ~ Birmant & Oubrerie, 2019, Isadora. And so went the lines that made me buy this book. It’s a brilliant graphic novel by Julie Birmant and illustrated by Clément Oubrerie about Isadora Duncan, the mother of modern dance. I was led to this book. I wasn’t even going to enter the bookshop but something compelled me. In the music section, which is where I usually go, I was looking for the dance section. I finally found it (it was tiny), and the name ‘Isadora’ in red letters on the spine so compelled me that I couldn’t stop staring at it. My other favourite line is when she’s in a cafe nursing a beer, having just turned down Loie Fuller’s offer to join the latter’s dance troupe: “Whom to share this strange feeling with, of Greek temples without sky or infinity?” Indeed, whom to share my view of life with. Story of my life. I called my website a lover’s dance because I consider all my activities dancing and I’m a lover. I love a lot of things, including love itself. I’ve always been that way; a floaty-headed romantic. I only ever draw pictures when I’m in love with my subject, I only ever record music when I felt compelled, and I only ever write when I have something to say. I have never been a Puritan when it comes to my arts. This “inspiration finds you at work” thing — please. In the past fifteen years I’ve recalled exactly two instances of boredom, each lasting about five minutes. I am always inspired and so there is always something to do. (Actually, Michael said something fascinating about “writer’s block” that I never forgot. He said that merely uttering the phrase creates writer’s block, because you ‘speak things into existence.’ He is absolutely right. I’d heard of this phenomenon but, as I’m always inspired, had never experienced it myself. Furthermore, I knew that acknowledging the concept would create it. I don’t know how I knew that, but I did. In art and design classes people talked about “fear of the blank page.” I had no idea what they were on about; to me a blank page was the most exciting thing ever. I guess these are the “ordinary people” Michael laments. One downside of being perpetually inspired and creatively active is that many people can’t relate to you. But more on that later.) I’d always loved the idea of dancing but was far too self conscious to ever do it in front of anyone. I was even too embarrassed to dance alone. But my love and fascination grew until it became stronger than the fear, and I started dancing. Now, I can’t help it. Before I encountered Michael (September of 2018) I was planning on going to clubs just to dance. But the problem with clubs is that people often go there to pick up, there’s not enough room and sometimes the music is bad or too loud or the sound is poorly balanced. There are so many problems with clubs. A fascinating thing about dancers, the really good ones, is that they do everything in a dancerly way. The way you do anything is the way you do everything, said Tom Waits. For me, all movement is an opportunity for dancing — whether walking to a door, typing on a keyboard, playing guitar or just sitting in a chair. When Miles Davis was going to clubs with Clark Terry to check out the musicians, he said that they could tell whether a guy could play by the way he was standing. I’m fascinated by the act of moving. I love creating graceful movements with my body — movements that look as beautiful as pictures. Dancing is a freer, more dynamic and more exciting way for me to draw. As I say in my Gold Dance commentary video, each frame is a painting — that’s thousands of paintings in a single short film! Far more than I could ever hope to produce as paintings in my lifetime. Not that quantity is so important; it’s just that there are so many poses I’d want to paint. With dancing, I can do them all, and quickly. There’s a kind of ‘move lightly’ principle at work in me — an economy of movement and contact. Some people are really profligate in the way they move; I can accomplish the same task in far fewer movements and with less contact. Michael has this economy too, I’ve noticed. Strangely enough, our tentativeness of contact is combined with a strong sensory desire for and enjoyment of contact. The tentativeness comes from being highly sensitive: watch any highly sensitive child among non-sensitive children and they will be the last to try or approach anything. This is obvious in footage of Michael playing in the snow with his brothers, aged about 6. His brothers are furiously playing in the snow and M is way off to the side, observing and not getting involved. The sensory sensitivity is evidenced by the way we touch things: watch the way Michael touches anything. When he strokes kids’ heads, he uses his whole hand, lovingly. This is exactly how I do it too. He’s enjoying the sensation of the kid’s hair and warm head on his whole hand, and it calms them both. We do the same thing with animals. There’s a fascinating video of M aged about 19 combing a little boy’s hair at a party. I love seeing the way he combs the boy’s hair: gently but deftly and swiftly, just like his dancing. There are no girls at the party; all the other boys are showing off or cracking jokes and M is in the back holding the little boy on his hip like a mother, not really participating in the revelry, just focusing on the kid. Idiots will infer sexual indecency, but it’s not. It’s because we’re highly sensitive, sensory types, and M is a very feminine and therefore maternal person. When we’re sitting down I’ve noticed we minimise the degree to which our bodies are in contact with other things. A characteristic pose will be one leg resting horizontally on the other knee (to stretch it out), but the contact between the ankle and the knee will be minimal; the whole pose is balanced and looks elegant. It’s like we’re always posing, always seeking a balanced stance; like our entire existence is an aesthetic project (it is). Along with economy is grace — whenever we move, we’re dancing. Everything is an opportunity for dancing — whether we’re actually dancing, or just picking up a cup. It does betray a real joy in being alive, in being in a body. What a beautiful privilege to live like this, when all movement is exciting.

I touched on the “leg thing” in my piece My Guy (2020) in Dance notes (www.aloversdance.com). I first noticed M doing this in a picture sitting at a table reading a book. His left leg is completely stretched out resting on a chair, while his right is bent normally. I’d done this for years without ever thinking about it or asking why I do it. I’m doing it right now, as I write this. Upon reflection, I think it might be related to the discharge of energy. We both have a lot of tension in our bodies — he probably has more — and stretching the body out in space is a way to dissipate this energy. Dr Christiane Northrup says that the body has a crystalline grid that discharges energy when we stretch. No wonder stretching feels so good. When I was little I was obsessed with cats (and still kinda am). I watched their movements very closely, obsessively studied pictures of them in cat books and drew them endlessly. I emulated their movements — the way they climbed, hunted, batted with their paws, licked milk from a bowl and walked on their tip toes. I scared people all the time because I’d walk up behind them without making a sound. I loved wearing socks, and still do. In my music film Moles (2020) I am dancing in sparkly socks on a table top. I loved climbing trees as a kid; M says this is one of his favourite things to do. If I were an animal, I’d be a cat. Maybe a lioness or a black panther. Michael would be a deer, I think. He really likes deers, and looks like one with his thin frame, thick neck and gigantic eyes. A cross between a deer, a cat and a praying mantis. He does have a weird reptilian thing with his pet boa constrictor and enjoyed scaring girls (and Quincy Jones!) with his pet snakes. I’ve never liked snakes; I think they’re gross. I’ve had many nightmares containing snakes. So that’s one thing we don’t have in common. So we both have a lot of bodily tension, which is largely responsible for our body rhythm, as I call it — the characteristic rhythm with which we do everything we do from singing to talking to writing to dancing. I’m fascinated by the way tension builds up. This became abundantly clear one day on the tram unable to stretch my leg out because there wasn’t enough room. It built up so much that I actually got angry. Certain activities build tension, and others dissipate it. Concentrating on a difficult problem using beta brain waves builds tension, while meditation using alpha brain waves eases it. Certain types of music create tension, other types ease it. Movement of any kind also eases tension. The Buddhists say that all movement is dukkha or suffering. But where would this suffering have originated? In the case of highly sensitive people growing up in largely non-sensitive households, their subjective experience of growing up in that household is considerably more traumatic than for the non-sensitives. For me, growing up in my house was like a daily war zone. No doubt Michael felt the same growing up in his house. All that trauma is registered by our cells, determines our gene expression and ingrains certain pathways that we carry into adulthood. We then have to live in ways that alleviate all this accrued suffering. It seems to me that we’re always in fight-or-flight mode because of that early conditioning; we’ve a constant vigilance. This is stressful for the body, so we find ways to calm ourselves through fiddling, dancing, avoiding stimulation and taking depressant drugs. I’m quite sure that Michael would not dance the way he did if it weren’t for his childhood experiences of trauma. Dancing is self-expression, and a person dances the way they do because of who they are and the experiences they’ve had. And, much of it depends on the music, I find. (As for dancing without music, as M did in BoW, I’m not sure what to make of that as yet.) I think of high sensitivity as having a ‘more porous’ body than non-sensitive people, so things ‘infect’ the sensitive person more strongly. Intense, hard music makes us dance hard and intense; soft, beautiful music creates soft and beautiful movements. I came across a great article by Lubov Fadeeva, a flamenco dancer. He describes Michael’s dancing accurately and intriguingly, and emphasises the importance of individuality in artistic creativity: “He dances in the flow of free creation. It should be noted that even the moves he performs on stage over and over again are not mechanically repeated like a stuck record. No, he can continue any of his dances by free improvisation at any moment. And it never looks out of sync with his personal style; instead, it opens new facets of his fathomless inner creator. This is what no impersonator can do. Only the creator of the dance can update and renew his dance naturally and improvise freely, and still be himself. No one else can plunge into his sacrament. This is his personal domain, just like every person has his or her own body and his or her own place on Earth.” How marvellous. “When Michael Jackson hit the stage, he danced in ecstasy. And it’s obvious to the spectator. All the best dancers and musicians enter a peculiar state of mind when they create. Art in its highest form is impossible without the ability to work with the subconscious, and without using altered states of awareness and intuition. Without this, it’s not art but simply cheap craft.” TBC Read more of my work at www.aloversdance.com

#essay #dance #dancing #spiritual #michaeljackson #isadoraduncan #dianaszabo #art #artist #music #love #spirituality #rhythm

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cookies-hetaoni · 8 years ago

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This is a rant but, like, you know. It would be nice if you read, if, like. You have patience and time? idk lmao

(adm: Hey guys!! Some things are kind of getting out of control, and honestly I don’t even know where to start, but...! I’m putting this under a cut because it’s so long lmao [I APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE]

First thing’s first: this blog was originally created to keep you updated on the progress of the making of my own version of HetaOni [holy cow, that’s a lot of “of”s]. It was released on December 26th, 2016. So, since then, all I’ve been doing is answering asks.

First the asks were about the game, glitches and all that. When people started to praise my art saying they liked how I drew a certain character, I drew them said character as a thank you for the compliment. And somehow, my art has become the main attention of this blog.

It makes me extremely happy that everyone enjoys my art so much, and even more happy when people remember I spent so much time working on the game [lmao], but, guys. Listen. I do not mind getting requests at all, but please understand that I am busy, I have a life and I when I have free time, I want to focus on working on HetaOni and its sequel.

People who have been following me since the beginning might remember I used to say that the reason I was rushing so much to finish and release the game was because I knew that this year I wouldn’t have nearly as enough time as I had last year. And this is exactly what’s happening. I made another post the other day talking about what I was working on regarding the game and the sequel, but now I’m going to tell you a bit of my personal life. Which is not much, to be quite honest.

I am a 21 year old student attending to a Graphic Design course in university, which is set to end in December 2018. It’s a really quick course, so I have to respond just as quickly. Every week I have a lot of work to do for it, now even more so since my class chose me as the class rep [I had absolutely no say in it tbh lmao but that’s okay]. So yes, you get the picture. Picture a Cookie running back and forth, carrying things around while helping my classmates.

Now, because I have depression and other mental health issues, I have to go to both a psychologist and a psychiatrist. I have to go to the psychologist every week, and to the psychiatrist once every month to get meds prescriptions. Imagine a Cookie, running back and forth carrying things around, helping my classmates and having to take meds and go to appointments to try to live life a little bit more normally.

Not only do I have these problems, but things have been going on in my family that have been making me feel even worse. I swear to all that’s looked upon as Holy in this world that I have NEVER been more stressed in my entire life. Never, ever. I’m currently experiencing overwhelming stress while having to deal with uni, health care and personal problems.

To top it off, the country I live in, especially the city I live in, is extremely dangerous. Just so you have an idea, last year my mom’s car and all of my sister’s and her documents/money/credit cards were stolen right in front of my house, while she was getting her car out of the garage. Last week, as I was coming home from uni, there were cops everywhere in my street and a bunch of people gathered together. We heard there was shooting while theives tried to steal someone else’s car. My neighbor’s dog has been killed recently when theives attempted to get inside their house. My neighbor was killed two years ago when he was painting his gate.

So now, imagine Cookie, running back and forth carrying things, having to help my classmates, while having to deal with uni, health care, personal problems and the risk of being killed/assaulted at any time, any day, anywhere. Not really fun, huh?

Well, let’s all be honest. All of this isn’t really a big deal. No, really, it isn’t. Literally everyone have their own problems to deal with, and just because I’m exposing my own doesn’t make it any more serious than anyone else’s problems. In all honesty, even with all of this going on I am still extremely grateful for having a house, clean water, access to education and health care, a family and being someone competent enough that people can rely on. All of us have it hard, and it’s only natural. If things were easy, we wouldn’t be able to experience emotions to its fullest, amiright?

The same way my problems aren’t more important than anyone else’s, that doesn’t make it any less heavy either. Everyone’s said this before, everyone says this constantly and in 80 years, people will continue to say: Life is hard. We are only one, yet the world demands we work as if we were one hundred. But we are not.

Why am I telling you all of this? I could’ve just summed it up and said I was busy, right? Well, I did make a post telling you I was busy before, but people still seemed not to care much. Which is totally fine, I guess. It’s not like it’s anyone’s obligation to care for other’s lives, anyway. Especially since a blog like mine is supposed to create entertaining content. If I offer you something you like to see then you’ll obviously want to see more, because entertainment is most definitely a thousand times better than having to deal with problems.

I am not writing this to complain about the asks I get, or that I want you guys to stop sending me asks or anything of the sort. I am just trying to explain that I do not have time to answer you immediately. That’s all.

I don’t delete any of the asks I get [unless it’s people sending me useless criticism - aka bitching at me for nothing], so it’s not like I forgot about you. So you don’t need to send me the same asks over and over again- this has happened multiple times, probably with different people. I get it, you want your request, I will do it but I just don’t have as much free time as I wish I had.

As I said in the beginning of this post, I created this blog to focus on HetaOni and on its sequel, so that��s what I’m trying to do. If I spend all of my time answering asks, I won’t be able to work on the game and I’ll have to deal with solving glitches for everyone and not getting any work done. And besides all of this I have to do, I also need to work on commissions.

I very much probably made it obvious that I do not have money. I have to gather every single penny I have to be able to pay for my school. If I couldn’t pay it myself, my mom would surely help me. The thing is, I don’t want her to, because I know she doesn’t have money either. All of it goes to pay for the house itself, its expenses, her car, food, bills, and my sister’s uni. She already has her hands full, so I’m trying my best to keep myself standing still. My friends know already that I love my mom unconditionally. She’s everything to me, I would give my life for her in the blink of an eye. I love her a billion more times than I could ever wish to love myself. She is trying very hard to keep everything under control. I’m not going to go much farther on this subject because it would get too personal, and it’s not really necessary for me to share this much information. All you need to know is I am trying my best to earn money so I can pay for school myself and give my mom one less problem to worry about. And earning money is NOT easy.

I don’t have a job. I couldn’t find one because of my mental health issues. Now I am a bit better than before so i started job-hunting again, but with no luck until now. All I can do is rely on commissions, the Patreon account I created just recently and on the donation button I added in the page, though I don’t really expect anyone to actually donate to be completely honest. It’s literally all I can do to earn money, besides selling some of my things.

Making art takes a lot of time. Requests usually take me at least 2-3 hours each. I enjoy drawing requests very much so, I just love drawing with all my heart and whenever I get positive feedback from you guys, I feel like everything is worth it. As much as I love this feeling and wish to hold on to just this, I can’t pay for my university with emotions. More than I love drawing, I love my mom. And if it’s to make the weight she carries even a little bit lighter, I will do whatever it takes to keep steady on my feet by myself, until someday I can earn enough to take care of all of her financial problems and give her the proper life she deserves to live.

I’m not begging you for money. You do not have the obligation to give me financial support, especially because I know a lot of my followers are underage, that art is often not appreciated enough to be seen as something worth investing on and that money is just something VERY hard to attain. Not everyone can afford commissions, being a patron or donating. It’s just natural. That’s why I like to draw requests. I myself am someone that would love to offer financial support to a lot of my favorite artists, but I can’t. Even so, I have to talk about it everytime because I just don’t have another choice.

I am also not writing all of this to make you feel sorry for me, or to create drama or whatever. I am just being completely honest with you, and the length of this post just goes to show how absolutely stressed I have been trying to keep my life in order.

The only reason I am writing all of this is asking you guys to be patient. I WILL answer your asks, but please, just be patient. I’m trying my best to always get as much done as I can whenever I have free time, but I only have two hands. Art isn’t just magically created. It takes time, effort and lots of love for me to come up with answers for you. A lot of you already told me to take my time, not to worry about it and not to stress myself, but it’s kind of impossible not to. To each ask I answer, I get 3. I can never clear my inbox. When I tried closing it, even though I made a post about it, everyone came talking to me personally saying they couldn’t send me asks. I’m not the type of person who forgets about things easily. You could’ve asked me for something 10 years ago and I would still remember about it today- because you asked something for me, and I have 100% intention of doing it. I just need time and inspiration.

So please understand if I take long to answer your requests, or if I turn down a request because it would normally be considered a commission. I’m trying my best. I keep repeating that over and over again, but it’s not something I say just out of habit- I really am trying my best.

I appreciate your asks. I appreciate your support. I appreciate you taking your time to write something for me. Recreating this game and creating this blog was honestly the best idea I could’ve ever had. Interacting with you and creating art that causes positive emotions on both of us is what gives my life meaning. I am holding onto this fandom as if it were my life, because it gives me joy and the feeling I actually matter to someone, that I do things that some people care about and that’s what’s helping me get through the hard times. I love this game, I love this fandom, I love this blog and I love you. All I want from you is patience and understanding. If you want to do something for me, just show you care. Reblogging my art and getting other people to see it is a great way to do that. I just want to get someone to smile with my art and hope to make their day a little bit better. Life sucks for everyone, but we’re all in this together.

But jesus this was a HUGE rant lmfao I am so sorry for all of this. I just needed to write all of this down. If you actually read it until the end, thank you so, so much for your time. I really appreciate it, and hope you have a great week!!!)

#update #adm: i'm sorry lol

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 8 years ago

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Where Have I Been? | Doing the Write Thing #24

***TRIGGER WARNING: there’s mention of suicide/being suicidal in this post. If you’re sensitive to that, I’d advise you to skip this post!***

Well hellooooo, it’s been a while.

And by a while I mean 6 days, and for a series that’s supposed to be updated daily, that means something...

Where the actual heck have I been?

First, I gotta preface...

I LOVE writing these updates. I can’t express to you guys how important these updates are to my writing process and to keeping me motivated. The support I’ve gotten for this series means so much to me, so when I’m away from Tumblr for a while, trust me, I am still thinking about you guys and about these updates.

To be honest I don’t know why I’ve been gone this long... I have nothing to excuse this absence/mini hiatus. I’m sorry I fell off the face of the earth, especially since I’ve been posting frequently for the past month. Even though I haven’t been updating you, doesn’t mean I haven’t been writing. Sorry I’ve been away, but I’m back to writing these updates as much as I can.

Thank you guys for understanding... Seriously, it means the world to me.

Yesterday was such a day.

I kid you not, I spent my entire day watching 13 Reasons Why on Netflix.

I’ve expressed that I don’t actually support the book before on this blog. Not hating, or anything, but in my personal experience with being suicidal a suicidal human, I wasn’t a fan of how suicide was portrayed in the actual book. Suicide’s a huge part of my life (and I know that may come as a shock, but honestly, I don’t want to hold the truth back from you). (But also, I appreciate that the book still exists and helps raise awareness for others. I still really appreciate the effort.)

I’ve been suicidal since I was a child... It’s a weird thing to express. If you’re suicidal, you’d get what I mean. And also: just because I’m suicidal, doesn’t mean I’ve got a plan, or am going to actually do it. It’s just a part of my personality, and is a part of how I was programmed. This isn’t a new thing for me, and frankly, doesn’t interfere with my life. There’s no need to be concerned (just in case anyone else finds this alarming) about this, just to clear that up. (And I’m getting help, no worries, just sharing my story over here!)

I wrote a journal entry two days ago that might help people who aren’t suicidal understand what it’s like. Obviously, I need to put it out there: this is my personal experience. Not every person experiences this in the way I do and it’s very important to understand that.

Alright this is the journal entry:

It’s hard when I’m so willing to die and yet so motivated to live. That’s the thing about being suicidal. It’s the worst trap a person can fall victim to because for me, I feel great a lot of the times. I love small, irrelevant things in life like how it feels to watch the steam clear from the mirror after a long hot shower, or how at 6PM in the summer, this warm glow touches every corner of every object in every room. Or the way it feels to run my fingers through my hair and feel physical curls. Or the split second in which you finally take down a large ice cold glass of water after being parched for hours. Small things like that I appreciate. And I appreciate life so much. It’s not like I’m ungrateful for what I have, or I’m not happy with what I have because that’s not true at all. Being suicidal is loving everything but still having this deep pull inside of you yearn for death. And sometimes in not death, it’s silence that just cannot be recreated on this earth.

(btw, the hair bit is because I bleach my hair frequently, hence my natural curly hair has been destroyed because the lack of moisture, so seeing it curly [which is often now] is just a little small thing that makes me happy!)

(And if anyone wants to talk to me about this because they’re feeling similarly or would like some personal experience to help with research, feel free to message me! :))

Does that make sense? I know when I tell people this they become super concerned which I understand. This is a scary thing for me to admit on here, but honesty is very important to me. A lot of people don’t get what it’s like to be suicidal which I think is actually a very good thing. I don’t think anyone WANTS to feel like this.

So back to what I was saying about the show... I think the show depicted an AMAZING job at showing what being suicidal/coping with suicide is really like. Because it’s not pretty but also, goes unnoticed a lot of the time. I LOVED that they didn’t hide behind the ‘suicide is not the answer’ mantra and actually became ACTIVE in showing how harmful not paying attention is. I loved that Clay was angry about the school’s putting up of posters after the suicide of his friends because posters don’t help AFTER there’s been a tragedy as the one in the show and book. I love that it’s spreading awareness, especially to high schools. (The poster thing is personally a huge problem I have at my school. Crapton of posters, and zero actual active helping. Gah)

So while I don’t like how the book depicted a struggle I face, the show is so beautiful and honest and amazing. I highly recommend watching the show. It’s a work of art, and honestly, is something I’m so proud of. To get an accurate depiction of what being suicidal is like/suicide in the media is just... amazing. I’m so happy about this show. It’s wonderful.

(BUT of course, not everyone who is suicidal/has attempted suicide/is coping with suicide won’t feel this way. This is just my experience.)

So that’s what I did all of yesterday. And honestly, I can’t regret that. I feel so heard because of this show, and it means a lot.

And for those who are wondering: Dylan did an amazing job. I’m so happy he was cast for Clay. (Dylan’s from my favourite band, lol, check out The Narwhals small bands 4 lyfe, he was amazing.)

If you’ve got a solid 13 hours to kill, I’d highly recommend spending them on watching this important show.

My day didn’t really start until around midnight... Which means it didn’t really start at all... (Zero regrets though.)

BUT I DID A THING while I was watching the show!

I did my first digital painting! Yay!

My sister got a drawing tablet for Christmas, so I decided to pick it up yesterday and finished my first real piece of digital art.

I can’t really draw. I’m such a noob at drawing, and am really only trying to develop my skills since drawing isn’t my strongest point. (I’m more of a graphic design gal.) BUT you know what I can do? Use Photoshop.

I wish I had the original sketch to show you, but guys, I got the proportions all wrong. The eyes were huge and a completely different shape, the nose was way too big, the head was huge, the mouth was way too wide...

But I fixed it with Photoshop. ;’)

I drew my MC from FOSTERED’s spinoff duology, ALANNIS.

SO STOKED STOKED STOKED STOKED.

GUYS YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN THE BEFORE SKETCH. I’m kicking myself for not saving it, but it was so funny, LOL. I literally had to readjust the size of everything.

So in terms of software, I sketched everything on my drawing tablet in Photoshop, and painted it in there as well. I’m not an artist, but I’m pretty proud of this, considering it was my first time using the tablet! It’s not perfect but I love it a lot... Really proud of that nose. lol.

And more news!

@sarahkelsiwrites drew Colton from SIXTEEN CENTS for me, and AHHHH I’M SO EXCITED!

She’s also going to draw Andy and Jayesh which oh my I’m super stoked for. I love these three a lot.

Colton has the best hair. Like, my hair is blue, and he still wins at hair.

This just made me want to write the entire book right now. lol.

Okay onto the actual writing update...

Daily word count goal: 250

Words written: 1367

Total word count: 42 830

Total page count: 82

Songs played: No music

Things to know: I was pretty tired. But also, was SO excited. Fun times. I listened to the scenes before this and loved ‘em so much so I was just so stoked to write the next one.

How I felt: Stoked af. It was a little hard to get into at first, but holy stoked.

Bad haiku to describe writing session: 2 AM is a / Perfect time to write my book / I got a lot done

Rating of writing session out of 10 and why: Solid 8.75 because I was a little tired, but also very excited

On a scale from 1-10 my level of stoked-ness is: SO BLOODY STOKED 10/10

Lyrics to describe writing session: And strange as it seems / She’s endless to me / She’s just like paperwork / But harder to read

- Ed Sheeran, She (Song I Wrote With Amy EP)

BUT OHHHH SHE, KNOWS ME SOOOO WELLLLLL.

GIF to describe writing session:

WE WERE YOUUUUUUNG DARLIN WE DON’T HAVE NO CONTROL, WE’RE OUT OF CONTROLLLLL

(Also, does anyone else here like The Strokes? I’d be interested to know...)

Excerpt:

(I forgot the excerpt in the last writing update like a dunce)

“My mother always told me to get rid of the toxic people in my life. To only surround myself with positive relationships, and positive people. But maybe I’m just a toxic person, and there’s no getting rid of myself.”

(This might sound really bad, but I actually wrote this down in a journal entry as kind of a personal thought and immediately thought to add it into the book because TEENAGE ANGST COME ALL AGES.)

(You know, dude that said this isn't even a teenager. I’ve been writing these books for so long that if I go on for another year, the book would most likely move into adult.)

(Lonan’s my angsty ball of angst.)

(Join the club.)

(Currently, this club of angst is being populated by Cliff, Lone and I. Looking for new members.)

Okay, so that’s it. This post was different and really honest... I hope that you guys enjoyed it, honestly. Thank you for reading as always, and I’ll see you in the next one. :)

--Rachel

#Writing #doingthewritething #art

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megatraven · 8 years ago

Text

Girl Crush

Right okay so this took forever but it includes the first three femslash feb prompts and is also a late birthday gift to @starscrumbling :D EDIT: I forgot a read more lol woops

Summary: After not having spoke for a little while, Alya decides to call Marinette, only to run into her in an unlikely place.

AO3

Snow fell over the city, wrapping it in a blanket of cool cleanliness as lights shut off and many Parisians went to sleep. The sky was dark but the city glowed softly still, and with its silence, very few would find it perfect to be outside just then.

Alya was not one of those few. Sure, sometimes the quiet could be nice, and being alone could be a gift, but there was always such a thing as too much. While she trekked through the snow, the quiet began to bug her, and it didn’t take long for her to think of a solution. Removing her hands from the warmth of her pockets, she took her phone out and began scrolling through her contacts.

“Wow,” she breathed, feeling a little guilty when she finally got to the one she wanted. “I... haven’t talked to her in so long.” She tapped the contact, and her thumb hovered over the call button. She didn’t notice she’d paused in the middle of the park, and her brows drew together as she considered what the consequences of calling so late could be.

On the one hand, they could catch up and the quiet of the city could be drowned out by their talking. On the other, Alya could be cursed out for waking her up. Deciding that even being cursed at was better than the lonely feeling she had, and before she could talk herself out of it, she hit the call button and put her phone to her ear.

A small smile lit up her face when she heard the familiar ringback tone.

~ ♪ ♫ Feel the magic in the air,

Allez, allez, allez

Levez les mains en l'air

Allez, allez, allez

Feel the magic in the air,

Allez, allez- ♫ ♪ ~

Hey, you’ve reached-

“...Marinette?” Alya asked, cutting off the message with a quick tap of the ‘end call’ button. She stared for a moment longer before rushing forward, shaking awake the girl sleeping on the park bench. “Marinette! Girl, wake up! What’re you doing, sleeping on the bench while it’s snowing out!?”

It took a little more shaking before Marinette opened her eyes and yawned. “Mmm... A-Alya? What’re you d-doing out here?” she questioned through chattering teeth.

“What am I- girl, what are you doing out here? I’ve heard of ‘blankets of snow’ but you shouldn’t take it as a literal blanket, Mar!” She sighed and pulled her friend into a hug, hoping to share her warmth. “Mon Dieu, you scared the hell out of me,” she whispered.

“I-I was dr-drawing,” she explained, gestured to a sketchpad that had a layer of snow covering it now. “F-first snow, you know? Good i-inspiration.” Alya tightened her hold when she felt Marinette shiver and bury her face in the crook of Alya’s neck.

“Mhm. And how long were you out drawing for?”

“Not t-too long! But, um, it’s b-been a long few weeks, and I h-haven’t been sleeping well. Th-the peacefulness put me to sleep I gu-guess.” A full-body shiver went through her then, and that drove Alya to action.

"C'mon, get up. I live closer, so you can crash at my place tonight," she said, helping Marinette to her feet. She kept her arm around the other girl, who in turn wrapped both of her arms around Alya.

"Um, s-so about the last t-time we-"

Alya cut her off with a look. "We can talk when you get warm, okay?"

Marinette looked like she wanted to say more, but she bit her tongue and nodded instead. The rest of their walk carried on in silence, save for Alya occasionally commenting on the sights or closeness to her apartment.

When they finally did arrive, Alya made quick work of climbing the stairs, despite half-dragging Marinette alone. She hoped that what had happened between them hadn't been the source of her sleepless nights, because Alya knew Marinette, and she knew it took a lot for her best friend to be capable of falling asleep while walking. Of course, it only usually happened when there was a big design competition coming up, but Alya hadn't heard anything. Then again, her and Marinette hadn't spoken in awhile either.

Sighing, she tried not to jostle Marinette as she dug out her keys and opened the door. She didn't flick on the lights, used to arriving and maneuvering in the dark, and walked until she could drape Marinette over the couch. Detaching herself from her best friend's vice-like grip proved to be a challenge, but it was something she had experience with, for better or worse.

Alya took off her own jacket, and laid it over Marinette until she could get a few blankets and some hot chocolate going. Luckily, over the years, she had acquired quite a lot of blankets, thanks to Marinette herself. It was, as she put it, 'a travesty among travesties' that she only have two blankets. Alya chuckled at the memory of it. Man, that girl is dramatic, she thought with a shake of her head. She quickly took a few blankets out of her closet, pausing only to add a couple more into her pile in case they'd be talking for awhile. She walked back out to where Marinette dozed, and made sure she stepped quietly, avoiding any creaky spots in the wood she'd come to memorize.

She took a quick moment to watch her friend sleep, enjoying the startling calmness Marinette exuded when she slept. Her lips were drawn into a small smile, and she looked completely at peace. Alya smiled down at her friend, and reached down to sweep her bangs out from her face, only allowing her touch to linger for a second. With a content sigh, she took her jacket away and replaced it with a couple of blankets. Marinette automatically snuggled into them, which Alya had expected, but she also grabbed onto Alya's arm when she made to pull away.

"Mari?" Alya asked, her voice quiet and gentle. "Mari, you have to let go, or I can't make us hot chocolate."

She didn't respond for a good moment, and Alya was convinced she was asleep until she tugged on Alya's arm and mumbled, "No hot chocolate."

Alya let herself be pulled down, taking care not to sit on her friend. "No hot chocolate?" she repeated, and Marinette shook her head, enough so that her hair fell over her face again. Alya snorted and quickly swept it away. "So what, then?"

"Mmm… talk. Bout stuff." she answered, yawning as she said so. She stretched her body out and adjusted her position so that when she finished, her legs laid over Alya's. Her tired gaze found Alya's own and a frown tugged at her lips. "Sorry for not calling."

"It's alright. I didn't either, so I guess we can both take the blame there, huh?" Alya responded with a small smile. It took a few seconds, but Marinette returned it in full, and it took just as long for Alya to realize that her best friend's smile filled her with butterflies. "Anyways, um… I'm sorry if I didn't respond well- okay, wait, no. I know I didn't respond well, because I was really surprised? I mean, I was always under the assumption you were… well, straight, I guess. That, uh… that sounds pretty bad, doesn't it? I know I shouldn't have assumed-"

"Shh. It's okay. Assuming is what people do. You know what Americans say about assuming, though, don't you?" Marinette says with a smile. Alya snorted in response. "Really though, it's okay. I never… I didn't ever tell you or anything. And I did chase after you know who for like a good couple of years. Guess I was kind of ignoring anything else, so I didn't even realize things until our last year of lycée. But when I did notice it was like a switch flipped or something. I suddenly noticed like everything, the little touches, the ones that lasted for awhile, the way you and others moved, and it was just like. Wow."

"But it's been years since then, Mari…"

"I know. And I meant to tell you, I did! But in lycée you were with Nino again, and I couldn't say anything that might hurt you or him. And then you guys broke up again and even though it wasn't so bad I knew you were still sad and needed space, so I obviously wasn't gonna tell you then. After that, I guess… I never found a good opportunity. Last time wasn't very ideal either, but I was, admittedly, a little tipsy-" Alya laughed at that, and Marinette shot her an unamused look before continuing, "-and you looked so goddamn amazing and it just… slipped out." She sighed and closed her eyes, laying her head back against the arm of the couch. "I didn't mean to make things so awkward."

Alya stayed quiet while all the information sunk in. Marinette stole a glance at her, and was relieved to see that her best friend didn't look mad or uncomfortable about it.

"I didn't even get a chance to say something," she finally whispered."You ran out yelling something, and I- I didn't... I didn't go after you. Or call. Or message or email or anything." She swallowed and looked at Marinette. "I'm really sorry, Mar. You ran out and I thought you made a mistake. I didn't want things to be awkward so I just…"

"Waited." Marinette finished for her. When Alya nodded, Marinette found herself sitting up and putting her hands on Alya's shoulders. "I did too. We both made a mistake in doing that, I guess. But I want you to know that even though we didn't talk for a little while, I still thought about you, and I still really, really, really want to be friends, at the very least. Like I really wouldn't know what to do without you in my life? I fell asleep in the snow on a park bench while we weren't talking, for crying out loud!" She threw her hands up and was about to launch into one of her ramblings, but Alya was always one to calm her down enough to prevent it.

The situation they found themselves in didn't change that.

It was Alya's turn to put her hands on her friend's shoulders, and when she successfully got Marinette's attention, she pulled her into a hug. The blankets fell from Marinette's form, and Alya's fingers dug into the cloth of her friend's shirt. It was soft beneath her fingertips, but she knew Marinette was softer still. She took a deep breath, appreciating the scent of vanilla, new fabrics, and paper that clung to Marinette, as it has since the two met. Her eyes shut and her hold tightened as she listened to Marinette's semi-frantic heartbeat slow into a rhythmic tempo. Eventually, Marinette returned the hug with just as much love and care as she rested her head against Alya's chest.

"Girl, I don't think there's anything in the world I want more than to stay in your life." Her voice was quiet, but in the silence that had permeated the apartment, it was loud and clear. "No matter if it's as an acquaintance, a fan, a friend, a best friend, a girlfriend..." She heard Marinette's breath catch. "As long as I get to be greedy and steal even just a minute of your time, I think we'll be just fine." She pulled away just enough to smile at Marinette, whose eyes shimmered with tears ready to spill. She wore a small, nervous kind of smile, one not unlike how she smiled in front of previous crushes.

Alya winked at her, which made Marinette lean forward and laugh into her shoulder. Her laughter proved to be contagious, because soon both were laughing, Marinette into Alya's shoulder and Alya into Marinette's hair. When it finally died down, they stayed in the same position until Marinette pulled away just enough for them to be looking at each other.

"S-so, uh… girlfriend, huh?" she asked, nervousness taking root again, though this time it was accompanied by hope.

"Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng, are you asking me, greatest reporter of all time, to be your girlfriend?" Her voice was teasing in an effort to lessen the building tension, and to the relief of them both, it worked.

"Why, Mademoiselle Césaire, that's exactly what I'm asking," she answered with a smirk.

"Ah, yes, in that case," she started, leaning forward so her nose pressed into Marinette's cheek, "I would be honored to have such a title."

"Really?" she breathed.

"Really." Alya placed a quick peck on the corner of Marinette's lips. "Now, you're still kind of cold and I swear you look like you're gonna pass out at any second, so let me make us some hot cocoa and then we can get some sleep. Sound good?"

Her girlfriend- Marinette's my girlfriend now! Alya thought with glee- hummed, thinking about the offer.

"I think sleep sounds better. Cocoa's got nothing on blankets and cuddles, you know," she said in a very serious, certain tone. Alya snorted and moved to get up anyways, but Marinette, in a shocking show of strength, pulled her back down. This time, they were laying next to each other rather than sitting, and neither could lie about how nice it felt to share in each other's embrace. "You won't leave me to freeze, will you?" she pouted.

"Alright, alright, you've twisted my arm. Cuddles it is."

Together, they wrapped themselves in the plenty of blankets Alya had brought out until the warmth and rightness of their proximity lulled them both to sleep.

#alyanette #alya césaire #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculous ladybug #femslashfeb2017 #ml #alya #mari #Marinette #alya cesaire #my fic #fluff #unedited

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