#and not hiding behind layers and layers of wittiness and sarcasm that gives them a free pass over their not doing anything

[steelthroat]

I'd always thought I preferred the messiest, most chaotic and fucked up people but with a grain of wil and spark that makes them do something over passive people that do nothing wrong, that don't care about anything but themselves and that never help...

AND I WAS RIGHT

People who are willing to try, that give a shit, that MEAN IT when they try to do something, smuah smuah come here here’s your smooches smuah.

[thepickpocketofdreams]

Tails Never Fails - Chapter Six

“I know you’re there, Kagami.”

Adrien’s voice came out muffled from where his face was pressed to his knees. This was his usual hiding place, a forgotten service corridor on the third floor that only he and Kagami knew about.

Not that he was hiding. This was just his hiding place.

“I’m not supposed to let you out of my sight,” said Kagami, emerging from the shadows. “But I was trying to give you some space.”

“It’s okay.” Adrien scrubbed a hand across his face, letting his mask dangle loosely between his fingers. “I’m just tired.”

Beside him, Kagami folded herself gracefully to the floor. “You seem a little more than tired, Adrien.”

“Do I now?” he said with a humourless laugh.

“You do. Want to talk about it?” said Kagami. He looked sideways at her, expecting her usual shrewd expression, and he wasn’t disappointed. There was something like sympathy in her eyes, but it was hidden under layers of sarcasm and the desire to tell him to get his shit together.

Kagami raised her eyebrows in encouragement.

“I just…I can’t believe Felix would do something like that,” Adrien admitted. “This night has been planned for years, and he’s acting like an entitled rat. I mean, I don’t mind him scaring off the girls who just want the title – that’s why we came up with this whole plan in the first place! But, I think…” he tailed off, picking at the carpet.

“You think he’s scaring off the only girl you’ve ever felt this way about.”

Way to put it lightly, Kagami.

But she was right. And, as Adrien looked her in the eye, he knew that she knew she was right.

“You –”

“Are right. I know.” Kagami’s voice had taken on a mocking edge, one that Adrien wasn’t sure he appreciated, but her eyes were bright with interest. “So, Multimouse, hmm?”

“Are we really having this conversation?”

In response, Kagami leaned back against the wall and gave him a shit-eating grin.

“I…” Adrien sighed. “I like her. She’s sweet, she’s funny, and I know that both of those things are cliché, but I – there are no words to describe her, unless I wax poetic for three hours on end.”

Unbidden, Multimouse’s smile arose in his mind, and Adrien couldn’t help but smile back.

“She’s the only person this evening I’ve been able to talk to, just as easily as with yourself or Nino. Even if she were to refuse anything romantic, I’d still want her friendship.”

“Friendship is the best foundation for romance,” Kagami pointed out. “But I agree. You two seemed to hit it off perfectly.”

“But…” Adrien chewed his thumbnail. “Felix.”

“Felix is an ass, and I will give him a piece of my mind in the morning.” Behind the careful control of her voice, Adrien heard Kagami’s threat against his cousin, and, in a rare moment of affection, he leaned his head against her shoulder.

“What would I do without you?” he mumbled.

“Even more stupid things than already.” She punched him lightly on the arm. “Go for a walk, then go back to her. If you’re as serious as I think you are about this, you should tell her the truth.”

The truth.

I’m the Prince.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

~~

Out on the balcony, Marinette took a shaky breath and gazed up at the moon. A chill rippled through the air, but she hardly felt it.

I just walked away from the Prince. How could I do that? All evening I’ve been wanting to talk to him, and I finally got to and sure he was being a little off but he was probably just tired and cranky, right? It must get tiring, dancing with person after person, and I was probably just talking too much –

“Hey there.” A voice beside her said, and Marinette let out a squeak rather befitting of her costume. She snapped her head sideways to see a man dressed in blue scales, perched expertly on the balcony.

“How –”

“You were preoccupied,” he smiled. As he spoke, she realised that his hands were moving constantly across a lyre harp, playing a soothing melody. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Nono, please – I should have noticed you,” Marinette said, hastily dropping into a curtsey – until he put out a hand to stop her.

“No need for formalities out here,” he said, hopping down to lean against the railing with her. “I just thought you could use someone to talk to.”

“I – you did?”

He – Blue, Marinette decided to call him – shrugged. “I saw you leave the ballroom. It looked as though the Prince upset you?”

It was an invitation to talk. Under normal circumstances, Marinette would have just declined and gone to Alya but – Alya wasn’t anywhere to be found. Neither was Nino. None of the people she wanted to see, none of her friends, were out here.

Marinette looked up at the stranger, who gave her a soft smile in response. Behind his mask, his eyes were kind.

“All I wanted was to dance with the Prince,” she said hesitantly. At his nod of encouragement, she continued, “and I thought it would be perfect. All I’ve heard, for years and years, was how kind he is, how wonderful he is, but tonight he was, well…”

Marinette made a useless gesture with her hands.

Blue hummed in response. “It’s difficult to meet someone and realise they’re a totally different person.”

“Yes!” Marinette threw up her hands. “He seemed completely different to what I was expecting, and maybe I’m just surprised, but it hurts to have spent so long imagining this particular moment, only for it to go so wrong.”

He hummed again. “You seemed really happy talking to that Cat guy.”

The change in tack caught her by surprise.

“Chat Noir?”

“Weren’t you?” He raised an eyebrow. Or at least, that was the impression she got from behind the mask.

Was she? “I mean…Yeah, I guess I was. I mean, Chat was easy to talk to,” – not to mention charming, and dashing, and witty – “but he wasn’t…you know…”

“He wasn’t the Prince.” Blue finished for her. Guilt settled in the pit of Marinette’s stomach as she watched his fingers dance across the lyre strings.

“It’s not that I even want the Prince. I just wanted to talk to Adrien, you know? Sure, Chat Noir is nice, but he’s not – he’s not Adrien.”

“Things aren’t always as they appear,” mused the guy, tilting his head back to regard the moon as she had earlier. “Perhaps you should give him another chance.”

“Another chance?”

“Sure. One conversation doesn’t tell you everything about a person. Maybe you’ll find out something new about him.”

He had a point. They’d only spoken briefly earlier, before Marinette had run out of the ballroom, after all.

“Perhaps you’re right,” she said aloud. Without warning, there came a crashing symphony from the ballroom, bellowing out of the doors onto the balcony. One of the final dances, then.

“That’s my cue,” said the stranger with a wink. “I promised my sister a dance.” He took her hand and kissed it. “Best of luck, Marinette.”

It was only as she watched him vanish back into the ballroom, that she realised he’d used her name.

~~

Meanwhile, in one of the many royal broom cupboards, Alya and Nino were in the process of deciding if it was ~ahem~ time to re-join the party.

“We could just stay here,” Nino proposed, gently kissing the side of Alya’s neck.

“We really can’t.”

“We could. They won’t notice.”

“I can’t leave Marinette alone all night. Besides, Kagami has definitely already noticed.”

“Point being?”

“Death by Kagami.”

“You got me. Let’s go.”

In the dim lighting, they retrieved various items of clothing that had become strewn about, and hurriedly got dressed. As Alya reached up to tie her mask back on, Nino zipped her dress back up, and they shared a smile.

It was almost as if they’d performed this exact routine, many, many, times before.

“Okay, let me check whether the coast is clear –” Nino cracked the door open the tiniest amount. When no one shouted at the moving door, he pushed it a little further and stuck his head out.

The hallway was deserted.

“We’re good – wait, why are you laughing?” he asked, clocking Alya’s shaking shoulders.

“You looked just like a little tortoise sticking its head out of a shell,” she giggled.

“Oh haha, very funny. Come on.”

The pair exited the cupboard, taking a second to ensure that they were both presentable once in the well-lit hallway, before Nino made a grand show of offering Alya his arm.

“My lady.”

“My lord,” she curtsied back and took his arm with a smile that, in Nino’s opinion, outshone even the fanciest chandelier in the ballroom.

The pair made their way back to the ballroom – not without some longing glances at cupboards along the way – without incident, and had set their sights on the grand doors when –

“Waitwaitwait,” Alya said, screeching to a halt. “Look!”

He followed her quivering finger to see a pair of figures on the balcony. One was dressed in blue, leaning back against the railing, giving off an aura of total calmness.

The other was a grey bundle of nervous energy.

“Whoa, is that – ”

“Marinette found a guy.”

Nino and Alya looked at each other, stunned, then back at the pair.

“Wasn’t she dancing with – ”

“When we left? Yeah. Wonder how she found this guy.”

As they watched, Marinette threw her arms up in the air, and the guy leaned closer to her. Despite the distance, it was clear that he was smiling. And so was she. After a few more exchanges, the guy took Marinette’s hand and kissed it.

“Oh, she is definitely blushing,” Alya said, squinting to get a better look. Her eyes widened. “He’s coming our way! Hide –”

They skirted round a corner, looking over their shoulders to make sure the guy hadn’t seen them and –

“And where have you two been?”

“Ah, crap.”

Stood in the hallway was Kagami. Arms folded, with a look on her face that could probably set something on fire.

That somethingwas looking a lot like Nino-and-Alya.

“We can explain –”

“You were in a broom cupboard.”

“You got us.”

“Look, Kagami –” Nino was about to give the best explanation – read: bullshit – of his life, when Kagami’s face changed. She held up a finger to him, and a second later, a shadow indicated that someone had walked round the corner behind them.

“Evening,” said Kagami with a nod. “Are you lost?”

“Apparently so. I was just getting some air and I seem to have taken a wrong turn,” replied a male voice. Nino glanced at the figure and did a double-take.

Marinette’s dude!

“Ballroom is that way,” Kagami said, pointing back the way he’d just come with a polite smile.

“Ah, thank you.” As the guy turned back round, he winked at Nino and Alya, before following Kagami’s directions.

Why is he winking at me!? Why is he winking at Alya!? Why –

“Do you know him?” asked Kagami, interrupting Nino’s internal crisis. He and Alya shook their heads.

“We just saw him with our friend. Wait – do you not know him?” Alya said.

When Kagami shook her head no, Nino and Alya exchanged a glance. She knew everyone. Every guest. On every list. Nino had walked in on her studying them on more than one occasion (and had a knife thrown at him at least two of those times).

No one could get past Kagami.

“But he was with Marinette –” Nino began.

“Did she know him?” asked Alya.

“Nah, she can’t have. But how’d he get in?”

“No idea.”

There were a couple of seconds as they considered, then –

“You definitely don’t know him?” they asked Kagami in perfect sync. At her exasperated head shake, Nino held his arm out to Alya once again.

“We need to find out more on this dude. Later, Kagami!”

And the pair ran off, unknowingly leaving Kagami with two questions.

1) Who was the mysterious man in blue?

2) And who was Marinette?

~~

After Blue left, Marinette took a few minutes to compose herself. The chill in the air felt as though it had receded since their conversation, and she breathed deeply. Moonlight fell upon the lake across from her, and it danced with the barely-there ripples of a non-existent breeze.

She stiffened, hearing footsteps behind her on the balcony.

“Multimouse.”

The voice was familiar.

“I’m sorry.”

Give him a second chance, Blue had said.

So Marinette turned, plastering on a smile, and took the Prince’s arm.

[sandersstudies]

Sanders Sides fluff

Hey guys! This is my first time posting any Sanders Sides fic work, and I just want to know what people think! 

Warnings: Insomnia/Mild distress? Both are resolved. This is basically all fluff so I don’t think I need any more warnings, so please let me know if there is something that requires a warning. 

Platonic pairings only here, and mostly just a lot of soft love and a bit of witty banter. 

Words: 1870

Faint light streamed in through the blinds of Patton’s room, casting stripes of dark and light across the floor. Patton rolled over in bed and blinked a few times. He squinted, trying the make out the dark form on the floor. He fumbled on his nightstand for his glasses and slid them up his nose.

Virgil had stretched his hoodie taut around his torso. He screwed his eyes up even in sleep. His saliva grumbled in the back of his mouth as he breathed.

Patton slid out of bed, bringing the blanket with him. He draped it over Virgil, who didn’t stir.

Patton left his room on tiptoe, careful not to bump Virgil’s feet when he opened and closed the bedroom door. The dim sunlight was shifting to a bright rose color as Patton pulled eggs from the kitchen fridge. He didn’t turn any lights on; it was nice to make breakfast in the sunrise.

Roman and Logan had conjured food for years before Patton had taken up cooking. As sides, eating wasn’t a necessity, but Patton had gotten into the habit of making breakfast for his family every morning. He shelled eggs as he waited for a pat of butter to melt in the pan. He feared the others only ate his food to be polite, but the process was relaxing. He whisked the eggs and poured some into the pan. As the liquid darkened to a consistent gold, the sunrise brightened to the same hue. Patton could hear faint shuffling in Logan’s room. He folded the omelet over itself as he heard a book page rustle, and smiled as the pun “om-letter” occurred to him.

There was a dull creak from Patton’s door. Patton added more butter to the pan and did not turn around. He heard the sound of a blanket sliding against the floor.

“Morning, kiddo,” he murmured.

Virgil was squinting against the sunlight so his eyes were almost invisible. He’d wrapped Patton’s blanket around his shoulders, and Patton could see his white knuckles clinging to the cloth. He used one hand to hold the blanket as he flattened his bedhead with the other. (Or, Patton thought, would it be floorhead?)

Virgil reached for the coffee. Patton got there first and pulled the pot away faster than he meant to. Virgil blinked at him, brows furrowed.

“You know what Logan says about caffeine, Virge,” Patton said, drumming his fingers on the side of the pot. Virgil grunted a response and turned to open the fridge. “The usual on your omelet?” Patton asked, leaning forward.

Virgil nodded.

Patton nodded back even though Virgil wasn’t looking at him. He put the coffee pot back. He added mushroom to the first omelet and started a second. He heard the clink of a glass on the counter behind him.  

When he turned around to give Virgil his omelet, Virgil was sitting on the other side of the counter with two glasses of chocolate milk. He slid one toward Patton as Patton set down the omelets. Virgil had his with mushroom, Patton’s with cheese and extra butter. They ate and drank without speaking for a long moment. The sun was up now, and Patton examined Virgil’s eyeshadow, wondering if it was hiding a second layer of dark circles.

Virgil cut a slice of mushroom into little squares with his fork.

“Something wrong with the omelet?” Patton asked.

“No,” Virgil said. “No, it’s really good, thanks.”

“Trouble sleeping last night?”

Virgil shrugged. There was the muffled sound of books thudding against Logan’s floor. Patton hoped Logan hadn’t been up too late working on his latest theory.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, kiddo,” Patton said. He took his empty plate to the sink and began rinsing it off.

“Didn’t want to bother you or anything,” Virgil muttered. His voice cracked with sleepiness. He drank the rest of his chocolate milk and then wiped the liquid off of his lip. “But I didn’t…want to be alone.”

The only sound was running water and distant birdsong.

“You wouldn’t bother me,” Patton said. “Wake me up anytime you need to.”

“Yeah, well.” Virgil stopped. He joined Patton at the sink and began to wash the milk glasses. They dried and put away the dishes without speaking.

Patton rubbed his hands on a dishtowel as Virgil wiped his palms against his hoodie.

“Sure is a nice sunrise,” Patton said. Virgil muttered agreement.

They gazed through the window until the beams faded to a pale buttercup color. The light brightened Virgil’s face so even his pale skin looked flushed. The crisp beams of early morning turned into the warm embrace of day, and Patton started another omelet.

Logan’s door opened. As usual, he had dressed for the day. He’d recently learned from Roman how to tie a Prince Albert knot, and displayed one at his collar.

“Salutations,” he said. “It is 62 degrees and sunny this morning.”

“Thanks, Alexa,” Virgil said.

“Ah, sarcasm,” Logan said, placing the tea kettle on the stove. He glanced at Patton. “Is that unfertilized poultry reproductive byproduct for me?”

“It’s just eggs, Logan,” Patton said. “I’m making an omelet.”

“Excellent,” Logan said. “Sustenance will serve as a refreshing intermission from my attempts to solve the Köthe conjecture.”

Roman’s door slammed open. “Did someone say intermission?”

“I did,” Logan said. “But your failure to contextualize is disturbing.”

“Say, Virge,” Patton said. “Why don’t you let me show you how to make an omelet for Roman?”

“Ah, a feast,” Roman said, emerging from his room. His floor-length velvet robe billowed behind him as he strutted into the kitchen, revealing his patterned silk pajamas.

Virgil watched Patton melting butter in the pan. “How you like your omelet, Roman Tumoral?”

“With a little of everything, Dark Twain.”

“Weak.”

“Oh, please, it’s early. A prince needs his beauty rest.”

“Jam-uel Clemens,” Logan said, producing a jar of Crofters. He smiled before noticing that no one had laughed. “The legal name of the pseudonymous author Mark Twain to whom Roman alluded was Samuel Clemens. Considering that jam and Sam share corresponding sounds, I assumed that this would be an excellent example of exploiting word meaning.”

“Explaining makes it worse,” Virgil said.

“So was that a-” Patton asked.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Logan said. “Paronomasia is not equivalent to paternal humor.”

Patton smiled anyway.

***

Patton’s room was lit only by moonlight and he couldn’t make out the figure next to his bed even after he’d put his glasses on.

“I’m sorry.” Patton recognized Virgil’s voice. “Didn’t…sorry for – bothering – I couldn’t…” He whispered half of his words, and the rest were inaudible as if he’d swallowed them.

Patton got out of bed and hugged Virgil around the shoulders. “It’s okay, kiddo,” he whispered. “Let’s just be quiet.”

The two tiptoed to the kitchen. Patton poured two glasses of chocolate milk and handed one to Virgil. He went back to his room and pulled the blankets off of his bed. When he came back out, Virgil was sitting on the living room couch with his hoodie up around his face. He was drinking his milk.

Patton turned on the TV. Logan had left Big Hero 6 in the DVD player, and the main menu was playing in Spanish. Patton switched it to English and started the movie.

***

Logan had had a pair of earbuds in for most of the evening playing 528hz frequency music as he went over his notes and paced around the room. He’d had relative peace since he’d given Roman an “island of knights and knaves” logic problem. He’d heard a few frustrated outbursts from Roman’s room at first, but Princey must have given it up, as the noises had stopped some time ago. Had Roman solved the problem, he would have come back to brag.

A faint sound distracted Logan from his contemplation, and he removed his earbuds. “Immortals” played somewhere in the house.

Interesting, Logan thought. Roman must have returned to playing Disney music at inopportune hours. Logan checked his watch. It was an optimal time for a recreational break from his work. He should invite Roman to join him for a game of chess. Roman enjoyed the game despite his frequent failure. He slid his castles and galloped his knights into Logan’s hands each time. His aggressive strategies were predictable, and Logan could achieve checkmate within twenty minutes. Logan had tried to teach the game to Patton, who had almost broken into tears when Logan took his queen.  Patton’s emotionality and simplicity made him a better player at checkers, where he failed to personify his pieces so much. Checkers bored Logan, and his failure to teach Patton chess had discouraged him from teaching Virgil. 

Logan left his room and leaned against Roman’s door. Faint snoring from inside, and no music.

The door to Patton’s room was open, and Logan peered inside. The bed was stripped and empty.

Logan entered the living room. Big Hero 6 played on the screen, and Patton and Virgil were asleep on the floor, surrounded by couch cushions and blankets. Virgil’s had pulled his hoodie up and flattened his bangs down, hiding most of his face. Patton wore his cat hoodie over fuzzy pajamas. Logan’s chest swelled a little at this evidence that Patton had appreciated his gift.

Two empty glasses sat on the floor, one turned onto its side. Logan considered the probability of lactic acid buildup in the dregs of chocolate milk overnight. He’d better rinse the glasses. He did so while keeping one eye on the sleeping sides on the floor.

Blue light is bad for circadian rhythms, Logan remembered as he finished rinsing the glasses. He turned off the TV. Virgil snorted and rolled over in his sleep, exposing the side of his face which he had pressed against a couch cushion. Red lines from the pressure of the fabric ran over his cheek and temple like little ruts in his face. A blanket had smeared his eyeshadow down the sides of his face where the makeup settled in the ruts like ash.

Logan surveyed the scene again. What else should he incorporate for optimal sleeping conditions? Sleeping on the floor could cause muscle soreness, but disrupting the sleep cycle by waking the sides up would be damaging. Logan pulled a blanket over Virgil and Patton’s shoulders. That seemed correct. He knelt down to remove Patton’s glasses, which were askew. Logan could hear Patton’s breath whistling, and a small pool of saliva darkened the pillow under his head. Logan folded the glasses up and put them on the TV stand where Patton would be able to find them.

Logan stood up. Yes, he had established excellent conditions for sleep. He was not sure why either side had left their room in the first place but suspected it had something to do with feelings. Either way, he hoped he’d managed to ease any stress with his efforts.

“Sleep well,” he said. It felt very silly speaking out loud to the two sleeping figures. He feared he was becoming sentimental.

He poured himself a glass of chocolate milk and went back to his room.

[thenatureofpages]

More Than Maybe by Erin Hahn

*Disclosure: I received this book as an ARC courtesy of Negtalley. I am an affiliate of Bookshop.org and I will earn a commission if you click through and make a purchase. Happy reading!

More than Maybe by Erin Hahn

A Non-Spoilery Review by The Nature of Pages

Genre: YA Contemporary

Favorite Quote:

Behind me, I feel a rush of air and the low murmur of movement. I’m sure it’s the composer kids, but I refuse to open my eyes. Let them be the awkward ones. This is my home court, and I claim the advantage.

Synopsis:

Growing up under his punk rocker dad’s spotlight, eighteen-year-old Luke Greenly knows fame and wants nothing to do with it. His real love isn’t in front of a crowd, it’s on the page. Hiding his gift and secretly hoarding songs in his bedroom at night, he prefers the anonymous comfort of the locally popular podcast he co-hosts with his outgoing and meddling, far-too-jealousy-inspiringly-happy-with-his-long-term-boyfriend twin brother, Cullen. But that’s not Luke’s only secret. He also has a major un-requited crush on music blogger, Vada Carsewell.

Vada’s got a five year plan: secure a job at the Loud Lizard to learn from local legend (and her mom’s boyfriend) Phil Josephs (check), take over Phil’s music blog (double check), get accepted into Berkeley’s prestigious music journalism program (check, check, check), manage Ann Arbor’s summer concert series and secure a Rolling Stone internship. Luke Greenly is most definitely NOT on the list. So what if his self-deprecating charm and out-of-this-world music knowledge makes her dizzy? Or his brother just released a bootleg recording of Luke singing about some mystery girl on their podcast and she really, really wishes it was her?

Rating: 5 Stars

What Made This Book Unique:

The seamless inclusion of music, both older and new. A few of my own favorite bands were mentioned – like AJR and Judah & the Lion – and there were songs I’ve never heard of before! The soundtrack added another layer to the experience of reading this book as I listening to the songs when they were mentioned.

Y’all. Whenever I’m reviewing an ARC, I highlight on my Kindle app and make notes for favorite quotes and scenes.

I had 101 highlights.

More Than Maybe is absolutely phenomenal. Please excuse me while I fangirl over the writing.

This novel had an aspect to the writing that doesn’t often occur in books – a spark. At one point in the story, a character is referred to as a firecracker and honestly, that’s what reading this book felt like. The pacing was on fire in the best way.

I read it in one sitting and ended up staying up until 2 AM to finish the book. I literally cancelled my classes for the next morning so I could stay up and binge-read the book. It’s just that good – or, as they say in the book, a five-eyes-closed experience.

And oh, the characters. The characters. Vada and Luke had such strong voices, there was never any confusion as to who was talking even when I was way too absorbed in the story to notice the chapter markers of who’s point of view it is. Vada, with her witty sarcasm and determined drive inside of her. Luke, with his adorable shyness and journey to finding his own voice in writing. I also high-key related to Vada’s best friend Meg, who reminded me so very much of myself with her quirky sayings and cheerful disposition.

More Than Maybe also had an incredible way of weaving incredibly poignant lines into casual conversation. It felt like the words were settling into my heart and I’ll carry them with me -much like the music in the story.

Also, I have to take a moment to talk about Vada’s relationship with her parents. Erin Hahn’s skill with writing teenagers and knowing exactly what it feels like already has astounded me, but the way the characters interacted with parents was amazing. It’s so refreshing to see a character who gets along with her mother and both loves and supports her mother’s boyfriend. I teared up several times, to be honest.

More Than Maybe was just….amazing. I’d give it six stars if that was an option. Thank you, Erin Hahn, for writing one of my new favorite books that has moved me and touched my heart.

More Than Maybe is hitting the shelves on July 21st, 2020!

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