#anyways it inspired me to do actual art but I’ll probably never post it anywhere sadly

[lesbianfakir]

If anyone is wondering what I’ve been doing I’ve been in full blorbo mode over fucking Skyrim of all things which is humiliating. I may have 4000+ hours but I will be the first to say it’s a terrible game

[sabugabr]

Why the Clone problem in Star Wars animated media is also a Mandalorian problem, and why we have to talk about it (PART 2)

Hi! I finally finished wrapping this up, so here’s part 2 of what has already become a mini article (you can find Part 1 here, if you like!)

And for this part, it won’t be as much as a critic as part 1 was, but instead I’d like to focus more on what I consider to be a wasted potential regarding the representation of the Clones in the Star Wars animated media, from the first season of The Clone Wars till now, and why I believe it to be an extension of the Mandalorian problem I discussed in part 1 —  the good old colonialism.

Sources used, as always, will be linked at the end of this post!

PART 2: THE CLONES

Cody will never know peace

So I’d like to state that I won’t focus as much on the blatantly whitewashing aspect, for I believe it to be very clear by now. If you aren’t familiar with it, I highly recommend you search around tumblr and the internet, there are a lot of interesting articles and posts about it that explain things very didactically and in detail. The only thing you need to know to get this started is that even at the first seasons of Clone Wars (when the troopers still had this somewhat darker skin complexion and all) they were still a whitewashed version of Temuera Morrison (Jango’s actor). And from then, as we all know, they only got whiter and whiter till we get where we are now, in rage.

Look at this very ambiguously non-white but still westernized men fiercely guarding their pin-up space poster

Now look at this still westernized but slightly (sarcasm) whiter men who for some reason now have different tanning levels among them (See how Rex now has a lighter skin tone? WHEN THE HELL DID THAT HAPPEN KKKKKKK) Anyway you got the idea. So without further ado...

2.1 THE FANTASY METAPHOR

As I mentioned before in Part 1, one thing that has to be very clear if you want to follow my train of thought is that it’s impossible to consume something without attributing cultural meanings to it, or without making cultural associations. This things will naturally happen and it often can improve our connection to certain narratives, especially fantastic ones. Even if a story takes place in a fantastic/sci fi universe, with all fictional species and people and worlds and cultures, they never come from nowhere, and almost always they have some or a lot of basing in real people and cultures. And when done properly, this can help making these stories resonate in a very beautifull, meaningfull way. I actually believe this intrisic cultural associations are the things that make these stories work at all. As the brilliant american speculative/science fiction author Ursula K. Le Guin says in the introduction (added in 1976) of her novel The Left Hand of Darkness, and that I was not able to chopp much because it’s absolutely genious and i’ll be leaving the link to the full text right here,

“The purpose of a thought-experiment, as the term was used by Schrodinger and other physicists, is not to predict the future — indeed Schrodinger's most famous thought-experiment goes to show that the ‘future,’ on the quantum level, cannot be predicted — but to describe reality, the present world.

Science fiction is not predictive; it is descriptive.”

[...] “Fiction writers, at least in their braver moments, do desire the truth: to know it, speak it, serve it. But they go about it in a peculiar and devious way, which consists in inventing persons, places, and events which never did and never will exist or occur, and telling about these fictions in detail and at length and with a great deal of emotion, and then when they are done writing down this pack of lies, they say, There! That's the truth!

They may use all kinds of facts to support their tissue of lies. They may describe the Marshalsea Prison, which was a real place, or the battle of Borodino, which really was fought, or the process of cloning, which really takes place in laboratories, or the deterioration of a personality, which is described in real textbooks of psychology; and so on. This weight of verifiable place-event-phenomenon-behavior makes the reader forget that he is reading a pure invention, a history that never took place anywhere but in that unlocalisable region, the author's mind. In fact, while we read a novel, we are insane —bonkers. We believe in the existence of people who aren't there, we hear their voices, we watch the battle of Borodino with  them, we may even become Napoleon. Sanity returns (in most cases) when the book is closed.”

[...] “ In reading a novel, any novel, we have to know perfectly well that the whole thing is nonsense, and then, while reading, believe every word of it. Finally, when we're done with it, we may find — if it's a good novel — that we're a bit different from what we were before we read it, that we have been changed a little, as if by having met a new face, crossed a street we never crossed before. But it's very hard to say just what we learned, how we were changed.

The artist deals with what cannot be said in words.

The artist whose medium is fiction does this within words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words. Words can be used thus paradoxically because they have, along with a semiotic usage, a symbolic or metaphoric usage. [...]  All fiction is metaphor. Science fiction is metaphor. What sets it apart from older forms of fiction seems to be its use of new metaphors, drawn from certain great dominants of our contemporary life — science, all the sciences, and technology, and the relativistic and the historical outlook, among them. Space travel is one of these metaphors; so is an alternative society, an alternative biology; the future is another. The future, in fiction, is a metaphor.

A metaphor for what?” [1]

A metaphor for what indeed. I won’t be going into what Star Wars as a whole is a metaphor for, because I am certain that it varies from person to person, and everyone can and has the total right to take whatever they want from this story, and understand it as they see fit. That’s why it’s called the modern myth. And therefore, all I’ll be saying here is playinly my take not only on what I understand the Clones to be, but what I believe they could have meant.

2.2 SO, BOBA IS A CLONE

I don’t want to get too repetitive, but I wanted to adress it because even though I by no means intend to put Boba and the Clones in the same bag, there is one aspect about them that I find very similar and interesting, that is the persue of individuality. While the Clones have this very intrinsically connected to their narratives, in Boba’s case this appears more in his concept design. As I mentioned in Part 1, one of the things the CW staff had in mind while designing the mandalorians is that they wanted to make Boba seem unique and distinguishable from them, and honestly even in the original trilogy he stands out a lot. He is unique and memorable and that’s one of the things that draws us to him.

And as we all know, both Boba and Jango and the Clones are played by Temuera Morrison — and occasionally by the wonderful Bodie Taylor and Daniel Logan. And Temuera Morrison comes from the Maori people. And differently from the mandalorian case, where we were talking about a whole planet, in this situation we’re talking about portraying one single person, so there’s nowhere to go around his appearance and phenotypes, right? I mean, you are literally representing an actual individual, so there’s no way you could alter their looks, right?

(hahahaha wrong)

And besides that, I think that is in situations like that (when we are talking about individuals) that the actor’s perspective could really have a place to shine (just the same as how Lea was mostly written by Carrie Fisher). In this very heart-warming interview for The New York Times (which you can read full signing up for their 5-free-articles-per-month policy), Temuera Morrison talks a little bit about how he incorporated his cultural background to Boba Fett in The Mandalorian:

“I come from the Maori nation of New Zealand, the Indigenous people — we’re the Down Under Polynesians — and I wanted to bring that kind of spirit and energy, which we call wairua. I’ve been trained in my cultural dance, which we call the haka. I’ve also been trained in some of our weapons, so that’s how I was able to manipulate some of the weapons in my fight scenes and work with the gaffi stick, which my character has.” [2]

The Gaffi stick (or Gaderffii), btw, is the weapon used by the Tusken Raiders on Tatooine, and according to oceanic art expert Bruno Claessens it’s design was inspired by wooden Fijian war clubs called totokia. [3]

And I think is very clear how this background can influence one’s performance and approach to a character, and majorly how much more alive this character will feel like. Beyond that, having an actor from your culture to play and add elements to a character will higly improve your sense of connection with them (besides all the impact of seeying yourself on screen, and seeying yourself portrayed with respect). It would only make sense if the cultural elements that the actor brought when giving life to a fictional individual would’ve been kept and even deepened while expanding this role. And if you’re familiar with Star Wars Legends you’ll probably rememeber that in Legends Jango would train and raise all Clone troopers in the Mandalorian culture, so that the Clones would sing traditional war chants before battles, be fluent in Mando’a (Mandalore’s language) and some would proudly take mandalorian names for themselves. So why didn’t Filoni Inc. take that into account when they went to delve into the clones in The Clone Wars?

2.3 THE WHITE MINORITY

First of all I’d like to state that all this is 100% me conjecturing, and by no means at all I’m saying that this is what really happened. But while I was re-watching CW before The Bad Batch premiere, something came to my mind regarding the whitewashing of the Clones, and I’d like to leave that on the table.

So, you know this kind of recent movies and series that depicted like, fairies in this fictional world where fairies were very opressed, but there would be a lot of fairies played by white actors? Just like Bright and Carnival Row. If you’ve watched some of these and have some racial conscience, you’ll probably know where I’m going here. And the issue with it is that often this medias will portray real situations of racism and opression and prejudice, but all applied to white people. Like in Carnival Row, when going to work as a maid in a rich human house, our girl Cara Delevingne had to fight not to have her braids (which held a lot of significance in her culture) cut by her intolerant human mistress, because the braids were not “appropriate”. Got it? hahahaha what a joy

Look at her ethnic braids!!!

One of the reasons this happens might be to relieve a white audience of the burden of watching these stories and feeling what I like to call “white guilt”. Because, as we all know, white people were never very oppressed.  Historically speaking, white people have always been in privileged social positions, and in an exploitative relationship between two ethnic groups, white people very usually would be the exploiters  —  the opressors. So while watching situations (that every minority would know to be very real) of opression in fiction, if these situations were lived by a white actor, there would be no real-life associations, because we have no historical parameter to associate this situation with anything in real life — if you are white. Thus, there is less chance that, when consuming one of these narratives, whoever is watching will question the "truthfulness" of these situations (because it's not "real racism", see, "they're just fairies"). It's easier for a person to watch without having to step out of their comfort zone, or confront the reality of real people who actually go through things like that. There's even a chance that this might diminish empathy for these people.

Once again, not saying this is specifically the case of the Clones, majorly because one of the main feelings you have when watching CW is exactly empathy for the troopers (at least for me, honestly, the galaxy could explode, I just wanted those poor men to be happy for God’s sake). But I’ll talk more about it later.

The thing is, the whole thing with the Clones, if you think about it, it’s not pretty. If you step on little tiny bit outside the bubble of “fictional fantasy”, the concept is very outrageous. They are kept in conditions analogous to slavery, to say the least. To say the more, they were literally made in an on-demand lab to serve a purpose they are personally not a part of, for which they will neither receive any reward nor share any part of the gains. On the contrary, as we saw in The Bad Batch, as soon as the war was over and the clones were no longer useful as cannonballs, they were discarded. In the (wonderful) episode 6 of the third season of (the almost flawless) Rebels, “The Last Battle”, we're even personally introduced to the analogy that there really wasn't much difference in value between clones and droids, something that was pretty clear in Clone Wars but hadn't been said explicitly yet.

In fact, technically the Separatists can be considered to be more human than the Republic. But that's just my opinion.

So, you had this whole army of pretty much slaves. I know this is a heavy term, but these were people who were originally stripped of any sense of humanity or individuality, made literally to go to war and die in it, doing so purely in exchange for food and lodging, under the false pretense that they belonged to a glorious purpose (yes, Loki me taught that term, that was the only thing I absorbed from this series). Doing all this under extremely precarious conditions from which they had no chance of getting out, actually, getting out was tantamount to the death penalty. They were slaves. In milder terms, an oppressed minority. And again, I don't know if that was the case, but I can understand why Filoni Inc would be apprehensive about representing phenotically indigenous people in this situation. Especially since we in theory should see Anakin and Obi-Wan as the good guys.

(and here I’d like to leave a little disclaimer that I believe the whole Anakin-was-a-slave-once plot was HUGELY misused (and honestly just badly done) both in the prequels and in the animeted series  — maybe for the best, since he was, you know, white and all that, and I don’t know how the writers would have handled it, but ANYWAY — I believe this could have been further explored, particularly regarding his relationship with the Clones, and how it could have influenced his revolt against the Jedi, and manipulated to add to his anger and all that. I mean, we already HAD the fact that Anakin shared a deeper conection with his troopers than usual)

Yes, Rex, you have common trauma experiences to share. But anyway, backing to my track

As I was saying, we are to see them as good guys, and maybe that could’ve been tricky if we saw them hooping up on slavery practices. Like, idk, a “nice” sugar plantation owner? (I don’t know the correct word for it in english, but in portuguese they were called senhores de engenho) Like this guy from 12 Years a Slave?

You know, the slave owner who was “nice”. IDK, anyway  

No one will ever watch Clone Wars and make this association (I believe not, at least), of course not. But if we were to see how CW deepened the clone arcs, and see them as phenotypically indigenous, subjected to certain situations that occur in CW (yes, like Umbara), maybe some kind of association would’ve been easier to make.

I mean, come onnnn I can’t be the only one seeing it

You see, maybe not the whole 12 Years a Slave association one, but I don’t think it’s hard to see there was something there. And maybe this could’ve been even more evident if they looked non-white. Because historically, both black peoples and indigenous peoples went through processes of slavery, from which we as a society are still impacted today. And to slave a people, the first thing you have to do is strip them from their humanity. So it might be easier to see this situation and apply it to real life. And maybe that could lead to a whole lot of other questions regarding the Clones, the Republic, the Jedi, and even how chill Obi-Wan was about all this. We might come out of it, as lady Ursula Le Guin stated in the fragment above, a bit different from what we were before we watch it.

Maybe even unconsciously, Filoni Inc thought we would be more confortable watching if they just looked white (and because of colonialism and all that, but I’m adding thoughts here).

And of course I don’t like the idea of, idk, looking at Obi-Wan and thinking about Benedict Cumberbatch in 12 Years a Slave or something like that. Of course that, if the Clones were to play the same role as they did in the prequels, to obediently serve the Jedi and quietly die for them, that would have been bad, and hurtfull, and pejorative if added to all that I said here. But the thing is that Clone Wars, consciously or not, already solved that. At least to my point of view, they already managed to approach this situation in an incredible competent way, that is giving them agency.

2.4 AGENCY AND INDIVIDUALITY

So, one of the things I love most in Clone Wars is how it really feels like it’s about the Clones. Like, we have the bigger scene of Palpatine taking over, Ahsoka’s growth arc, Anakin’s turn to The Dark Side, the dawn of the Jedi and rise of the Empire and all that, but it also has this idk, vibe, of there’s actually something going on that no one in scene is talking about? And this something is the Clones. We have these episodes spread throughout the seasons, even out of chronological order, which when watched together tell a parallel story to the war, to everything I mentioned. Which is a story about individuals. Clone Wars manages to, in a (at least to me) very touching way, make the Clones be the heros. 

Can you really look me in the eye and say that Five’s story didn’t CRASH you like a full-speed train???? He may not have the same amount of screen-time as the protagonists, but his story is just as important as theirs (and to me, it might be the most meaningful one). Because he is the first to break free from the opression cicle all the Clones were trapped into. 

His story can be divided into 6 phases.

1 - First, the construction of his individuality, in other words, the reclaiming of his humanity. 

2 - Then the assimilation of understanding yourself as an individual of value, and then extending this to all his brothers, not as a unit, but as a set of individuals collectively having this same newly discovered value.

3 - This makes him realize that in the situation they find themselves in, they are not being recognized as such. This makes him question the reality of their situation.

4 - Freed from the illusion of his state, he seeks the truth about it.

5 - This then leads him to seek liberation not just for himself, but for all the Clones (it's basically Plato's Cave, and I'm not exaggerating here).

6 - And finally, precisely because he has assimilated his individuality and sought freedom for himself and his brothers, he is punished for it.

His story is all about agency. Agency, according to the Wikipedia page that is the first to appear if you type “agency” on Google, is that agency is “the abstract principle that autonomous beings, agents, are capable of acting by themselves” [4], and this abstract principle can be dissected in 7 segments:

Law - a person acting on behalf of another person

Religious -  "the privilege of choice... introduced by God"

Moral -  capacity for making moral judgments

Philosophical -  the capacity of an autonomous agent to act, relating to action theory in philosophy

Psychological -  the ability to recognize or attribute agency in humans and non-human animals

Sociological -  the ability of social actors to make independent choices, relating to action theory in sociology

Structural - ability of an individual to organize future situations and resource distribution

All of them apply here. And this is just the story of one Clone. We know there are many others throughout the series. 

Agency is what can make the world of a difference when you are telling a story about an opressed minority. Because opressed minorities do exist, and opression exists, and if you are insecure about consuming a fictional media about opressed minorities, see if they have agency might be a good place to start. So that’s why I think that everything I said before in 2.3 falls short. Because the solution already existed, and was indeed done. Honestly, making the non-agency representation of the Clones (the one we see in the prequels) to be the one played by Temuera Morrison, and then giving them agency in the version where they appear to be white, just leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

And honestly, if they were to make the Clones look like Temuera Morrison, and by that mean, take more inspiration in the Māori culture, maybe they wouldn’t even have to change much of their representation besides their facial features. As I said in part 1, I am not by any means an expert in polynesian cultures, but there was something that really got me while I was researching about it. And is the facial tattoos. More precisely, the tā moko. 

2.5  TĀ MOKO

Once again I’ll be using the Te Ara: The Encyclopedia of New Zealand as source, and you can find the articles used linked at the end of this post. 

Etymologically speaking,

“The term moko traditionally applied to male facial tattooing, while kauae referred to moko on the chins of women. There were other specific terms for tattooing on other parts of the body. Eventually ‘moko’ came to be used for Māori tattooing in general.” [5]

So moko is the correct name for the characteristic tattoos we often see when we look for Māori culture. 

These ones ^. Please also look this book up, it’s beautiful. It’s written by  Ngahuia Te Awekotuku, a New Zealand academic specialising in Māori cultural issues and a lesbian activist. She’s wonderful. 

According to the Tourism NewZealand website, 

“In Māori culture, it [moko] reflects the individual's whakapapa (ancestry) and personal history. In earlier times it was an important signifier of social rank, knowledge, skill and eligibility to marry.”

“Traditionally men received moko on their faces, buttocks and thighs. Māori face tattoos are the ultimate expression of Māori identity. Māori believe the head is the most sacred part of the body, so facial tattoos have special significance.”

[...] “The main lines in a Māori tattoo are called manawa, which is the Māori word for heart.” [6]

Therefore, in the Māori culture, there’s this incredibly deep meaning attributed to the (specific of their culture) tattooing of the face. The act of tattooing the body, any part of the body, is incredibly powerful in many cultures around the globe. The adornment of the body can have different meanings for these different cultures, but all of which I've come into contact with do mean a lot. It’s one of the oldest and most beautiful human expressions of individuality and identity. 

And in the Star Wars universe, the Clones are the group that has the deeper connection to, and the best narrative regarding, tattoos. In fact, besides Hera’s father, Cham Syndulla, the Clones are the only individuals to have tattooed skin, at least that I can recall of. And they do share a deep connection to it. 

For the Clones, the tattoos (added to hairstyles) are the most meaningful way in which they can express themselves. Is what makes them distinguishable from each other to other people. Tattoos are one of the things that represent them as individuals.

And I’m not BY ANY MEANS sayin that the Clones facial tattoos = Moko. That’s not my point. But that’s one of the things I meant when I said earlier about the wasted potential of the representation of the Clones (in my point of view). Because maybe if it were their intention to base the culture of the clones after the polynesian culture, maybe if it were their intention to make the Clones actually look like Temuera Morrison, this could have meant a whole deal. More than it’d appear looking to it from outside this culture. Maybe if there were actual polynesian people in the team that designed the Clones and wrote them (or at least indigenous people, something), who knows what we could’ve had. 

Even in Hunter’s design, I noticed that if you take for example this frame of Temuera from the movie River Queen (2005), where we can have a closer look at the design of his tā moko

Speaking purely plastically (because I don’t want to get into the movie itself, just using it as example because then I can use Temuera himself as a comparison), see the lines around the contours of his mouth? Now look at Hunter’s. 

I find it interesting that they choose to design this lines coming from around his nose like that. But at this point I am stretching A LOT into plastic and semiotics, so this comparison is just a little thing that got my attention. I know that his tattoo is a skull and etc etc, I’m just poiting this out. And it even makes me a little frustrated, because they could have taken so many interesting paths in the Bad Batch designs. But instead they choose to pay homage to Rambo. And I mean, I like Rambo, I think he’s cool and all that.

Look at him doing Filipino martial arts

But then, as we say in Brasil, they had the knife and the cheese in their hands (all they had to do was cut the cheese, but they didn’t). Istead, it seems like in order to make Hunter look like Rambo, they made him even whiter??? 

2.6 SO...

Look, I love The Clone Wars. I’m crazy about it. I love the Clones, I love their stories and plots. They are great characters and one of the greatest addings ever made in the Star Wars universe. They even have, in my opinion, the best soundtrack piece to feature in a Star Wars media since John Williams’ wonderful score. It just feels to me as if their narrative core is full of bagage, and meanings, and associations that were just wiped under the carpet when they suddenly became white. It just feels to me as if, once again, they were trying to erase the person behing the trooper mask, and the people they were to represent, and the history they should evoke.

I don’t know why they were whitewashed. Maybe it was just the old due racism and colonialism. Maybe it was meant for us to not question the Jedi, or our good guys, or the real morality of this fictional universe where we were immersed. But then, was it meant for what?

The Clones were a metaphor for what? 

(spoiler: the answer still contains colonialism)

Thank you so much for reading !!!! (and congratulations for getting this far, you are a true hero)

SOURCES USED IN THIS:

[1] Ursulla K. Le Guin, 'The Left Hand of Darkness', 14th ACE print run of June, 1977

[2] Dave Itzkoff, 'Being Boba Fett: Temuera Morrison Discusses ‘The Mandalorian’', The New York Times, published Dec. 7, 2020, https://www.nytimes.com/2020/12/07/arts/television/the-mandalorian-boba-fett-temuera-morrison.html (accessed 15 September 2021)

[3] Bruno Claessens, 'George Lucas' "Star Wars" and Oceanic art' , Archived from the original on December 5, 2020, https://web.archive.org/web/20201205114353/http://brunoclaessens.com/2015/07/george-lucas-star-wars-and-oceanic-art/#.YEiJ-p37RhF (accessed 15 September 2021)

[4]  Wikipedia contributors, "Agency," Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Agency&oldid=1037924611 (accessed September 17, 2021)

[5] Rawinia Higgins, 'Tā moko – Māori tattooing - Origins of tā moko', Te Ara - the Encyclopedia of New Zealand, http://www.TeAra.govt.nz/en/ta-moko-maori-tattooing/page-1 (accessed 17 September 2021)

[6] Tourism New Zealand, ‘The meaning of tā moko, traditional Māori tattoos’,  The Tourism New Zealand website, https://www.newzealand.com/us/feature/ta-moko-maori-tattoo/ (accessed 17 September 2021)

[osir-ethria]

.... Debating on whether or not I should do something other than the Schneeblings...

Well here’s another thing about them anyway.

Whitley loves fashion and designing with a much more creative aspect to clothing. Jacques however found out and called it far to feminine and that he should be focusing business and other things (minus fighting).

Winter would always let Whitley choose the dress she would wear to business meeting with Jacques and tell him about the guests reactions and how many compliments she got because of his choice. She did this in the form of a letter that Klein would hand Whitley because if she was seen anywhere near Whitley he would be reprimanded by their father. She’d first give him a list on what the event was about, how she was to be represented, and if Jacques was there to enjoy himself a little or purely just business.

This helped Whitley with his look when he went out on formal events and got to choose. (This is me saying please change his outfit for once. Maybe inspired by Weiss?)

Even though Winter never directly told Weiss but Whitley was the one who designed her outfits minus the Volume 7 one... I’d have to say Weiss looks good but like, the pounds of hair in that braid is unnecessary. She has a lot of hair but why make it not proportional to the rest of the head. Other than that she actually picked up a few things from Whitley just by studying what she’s been wearing.

After the half of the group that got to Vacuo arrives at the main kingdom they need new gear. The Atlas gear is going to give them a heat stroke. They are trying to decide what to do and they see an obviously emotionally unavailable Winter write a few things down, hand it to Whitley, and tells him to go all out.

Later she explains the whole fashion thing with them and tells them that if they’d trust him with their outfit designs to just list necessities, color schemes, any requirements that’ll help with how they fight, and what style of clothing they are comfortable or uncomfortable with. When Whitley receives these papers from the group he starts crying, they aren’t seeing it as weird and actually trust him with it. Remember, Jacques hated this side of Whitley.

Whitley works with Pietro to design the new gear and everyone loves it. Comfortable, looks good, and does its job. I also remember that the Schnee dust company doesn’t only have dust mines in Atlas even though it was the majority, there are some all over Remnent. (This is from the World of Remnent episode Rooster Teeth did about the Schnee Dust Company.) The Schnees however stay with the refugees instead of going somewhere else so they can help them. They also have enough money to help provide for the refugees like buying tents, getting food and water, and any other necessity. Whitley gets a good feeling from helping and not keeping it all to himself.

Whitley better ask Winter to train him or Winter forcefully teaches him because she can’t handle losing another sibling. This is just with a sword he hasn’t gotten his semblance yet.

He’s smarter than a lot think he should be, the only thing that’s stopping him from being a huntsman is how young he is, like I would prefer if he was around Oscar’s age, and he’s not of the physical or aura capability of a huntsman. You could argue Jaune was like that but Jaune was of the age to go to beacon, had a weapon, and was physically fit to the point he could play it off as maybe going to the school. The only thing he was lacking was skill which was remedied by Pyrrha.

Whitley hasn’t had any of that but I wouldn’t doubt that he’d be a good fit. I can imagine him trying to use his left hand but it doesn’t work out so he forces himself to switch and it works but he wanted to use his left hand for that. He’s not as nimble as Weiss but more so than Winter so he’s slowly forming into a mix. Best part would be he keeps his sarcastic attitude and teasing only being serious in serious situations.

I think all Schnees are brutally honest with everything but understand and feel bad when they hurt someone who hasn’t done anything bad to them or has gotten on their nerves. If they are misunderstood for what they say and they know it wouldn’t be easy to understand said topic they go soft and attempt to explain, Winter and Penny at the Schnee manor in Vol 7.

I also like to think that each of them are slightly gifted in the others area of art. Whitley is better with design, art, and visual concepts.

Weiss is better musical and hearing as well as being able to take quickly to anything she was forced to learn by Jacques or genuinely wanted to know. Weiss and Whitley also share common interest in design from a mathematical stand point because it gets their motors going which was derived from Jacques trying to control them and force how they think, what they do, and what’s going on.

Winter is more about art through movement. She taught Weiss how to dance and is probably the only person who could stand a chance against Yang with Martial Arts. With her being the most controlling of her emotions she could easily do acting which she was forced to do while in school before Atlas Academy.

Whitley learnt how to play the piano from Weiss with videos Klein recorded where Weiss explained how to play. This was an assignment by Jacques to prove she was practicing but Whitley caught them once and asked Klein if he could see the videos. Jacques thought he had the natural talent for the piano, nah he just practiced a lot with Weiss’s help.

Winter hasn’t listened to any of Weiss’ personal songs. By personal I mean the RWBY soundtracks. I head canon that those songs are Weiss describing their journey and how she believes their friends, enemies, and family feels.

I like the idea that Weiss’s songs were used as protest. Now Winter has heard a few she just never put two and two together that that was Weiss singing since she always had a soft pitched opera voice. Well not until she heard someone in the refugee camp blast This Life Is Mine which included the more opera segment. That broke Winter. The idea was on a head canon post but I forgot the name and I’ve liked to many posts to the point I doubt I’ll find it.

Whitley got two copies of Weiss’s songs, using a bit of money for himself and Winter there, and as a bonding activity between them and if they ever feel stressed listen to her music and voice. This is how Whitley realized that Jacques had been lying to him about his sisters just abandoning him and not caring for him at all that they left him, but rather Jacques pulled him away from Winter to ensure he wouldn’t end up like Weiss. This Life Is Mine hits close to Whitley as for Winter as much as she agrees with Whitley that it hits close she knows that Weiss’s song Path to Isolation hits more for her.

Weiss had managed to submit War, Until The End, and Fear to the people who published her songs before everything the evacuation using Pietro. Pietro questioned why and she just gave a quick summary, not explaining everything but just enough. Those publishers got though the portals and with the help of Whitley and the Schnee money got Weiss’s ‘final’ track out.

The songs are played everyday which was new for the Atlesians that survived compared to the survivors in Mantle. No one expected Weiss to be so defiant and see how abusive Jacques was to her and which they can assume the rest of the family. How they weren’t picture perfect.

......... I should stop now. Written to much again. I’ll most likely try to find the post with the idea that Weiss’s song were used as songs of retaliation in Mantle. If I do I’m going to reboot it so here me go, deep diving.

[palimpsessed]

Writerly Ephemera

I was tagged by @amywaterwings @mostlymaudlin @tea-brigade @effing-numpties @captain-aralias @bloodiedpixie . This is so cool, so thanks for sharing yours! ❤️

Per Amy: We add little bits of ourselves to our writing, scattering memories and places and phrases and things into our stories. The game is to find five examples of this, of YOU, in your writing and show everyone.

I don’t really feel like I put much of my own experiences into my fic, probably because I don’t feel like I have a lot of experiences to pull from. (That’s not me being self-deprecating; that’s me never going anywhere or doing anything.) So, let’s see what we come up with!

Going to tag here. I feel like I’ve gotten to this late so I’m not sure who has been tagged. Anyway. No pressure, loves. Just saying hi. 🥰 @theflyingpeach @bazzybelle @otherworldsivelivedin @unseelieseelie @wetheformidables @caitybug @nightimedreamersworld @foolofabookwyrm @stillmadaboutpetra

1. I have put the most of myself into A Man of Letters. I have my degree in English Lit and when I was in college, I was at the height of my Jane Austen obsession. So I sort of built my degree around the development of the English novel. My senior thesis was on a book called Evelina by Frances Burney, who was one of Austen’s greatest literary influences. Evelina is an epistolary novel—told entirely in letters. I love the epistolary form, for the same reason I love dialogue and texting fics. It’s such a fun narrative technique and can reveal so much about individual characters. It’s actually a bit like the way Rainbow Rowell uses multi POV in her books. Anyway, my love of the epistle was on full display in this fic, which is ofc told in letters. —Do I share a passage? That’s like...the whole fic 😅 So, idk. Here’s Simon being a disaster as he meditates on letter writing:

Dear Penny,

As I start this letter, I already know I'm not going to post it. I know I won't be able to bring myself to do it, because of what I have to say to you. I do feel bad. It's not that I don't want to tell you. And you know I'm so much better at writing things down than saying them out loud. It's only that I feel like this would all sound better coming from me in person. I just don't think I'll be able to make you understand in a letter. I'm still trying to understand myself. And writing all of this down helps me with that. Even if I'm only pretending to write to you, it makes me feel better, to think of you on the other end. I promise I really will tell you everything as soon as we're together again.

2. Also for A Man of Letters, my fascination with Regency fashions, in particular the dandy, was a major factor. I did an art book about this, comparing how fashion has changed over time, especially in regard to gender. (I also did an art book based on Evelina, since I’m on the subject. I minored in book art. 😁) I always fancied the look of a Regency dandy, so that was my gift to Baz.

Whoever has been working their magic on Salisbury should in fact be the person to whom I offer my eternal devotion. Alas, I am left to flounder under the burden of lusting after a man who is incapable of dressing himself.

The utter and unmitigated shame.

Salisbury wore a forest green wool frock coat that set off the golden highlights in his brown locks. This was accented with a green and aubergine striped silk waistcoat that was trimmed in white piping and felt much too daring a pattern for the man. (I don't care if he was a soldier; it takes a hardier man than him by half to choose a stripe like that.) His charcoal trousers were enticingly snug, but not so much to prove lethal. His cravat and points left much to be desired, though that likely reflected poorly on his ability to keep himself in order, rather than the ability of his valet. (Good God, maybe the man doesn't even have a valet!)

3. When it came to my countdown fic, To the Manor Borne, I had Shep make a reference to Cluedo, because Pitch Manor would be perfect for a real life game. Behind that, is the fact that my family played a lot of Clue and I watched the movie a whole bunch growing up, to the point where my sister and I used to quote it to each other. This was a way to pay homage to that. He also talks about playing the game Murder in the Dark, which was one I played at Halloween as a kid. One of my cousins was dressed as a ghoul with glow in the dark face paint and we were in my grandma’s creepy upstairs. Perfect vibes.

I’ve seen the kitchen and the dining room and the library and the study and the parlor. Walking through this house is like playing Clue. (They call it Cluedo on this side of the pond, because they like to be difficult.) (That was a whole thing. Do not get me started.)

I keep thinking Colonel Mustard’s going to pop up out of nowhere and brain me with a lead pipe.

And:

What kind of games do you play with magickal friends who don't have magic? Twister? Not with the wings and tail. Cards? Baz and Penny would cheat. Or accuse everyone else of cheating if they didn't win. Murder in the dark? With these people, in this house, I knew it would turn literal fast, and also it was like ten in the morning. Hide and seek? Simon and I would hide and everyone else would ditch. Snowball fight? World War III.

4. I’ve referenced Mozart in my fics a couple of times because when I was first getting into classical music, I was listening to a lot of Mozart. My sister had a CD of some of his early symphonies, and my local classical station does “Mozart in the Mornings” which happened to fit in the exact time slot between two morning classes I had my first year in college. I’d go sit in my car with a cup of tea, and just vibe with Mozart as my soundtrack. I’ve name dropped him in both A Man of Letters and To the Manor Borne. Also, Mozart wrote 12 variations on the melody shared by Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, which is a lovely tie in. (I also had the gang sing/cast The Holly and the Ivy, which is one of my favorite Christmas carols, and by strange coincidence was playing on the radio at the same time I wrote that scene. 🥰)

"It's a songbook," I tell him, like he can't figure that out for himself. "Did you know that Mozart wrote twelve different versions of the same song?"

He's laughing. "Mozart did not write Twinkle, twinkle, little star, Simon."

"You know what I mean."

"He composed twelve variations for solo piano on the French folk melody Ah! Vous dirai-je, maman."

"Sure. Anyway, this is for the violin. For you to play."

He's still laughing, and I'm trying to figure out what's so funny, but then he kisses me again, on the lips this time, so I figure maybe I'm still doing okay.

Only one more to go! What will it be? 👀

5. Therapy! Eheheh...😅 Look, it’s no secret the gang needs it. And tbh, so do I. Haven’t actually managed to get myself to go yet, and I think that’s where a lot of my “send them to therapy” happy endings come from. I did it in Use Your Words and To the Manor Borne. I started Chamber by Chamber with SnowBaz already in therapy, and then structured the whole thing around therapy that they give to each other and to themselves. It didn’t really fit in A Man of Letters, but if it had, I absolutely would have done it. I’ve only shared from two fics so far, and since it could kind of spoil the ending to Use Your Words (tho saying this may be spoiler anyway...), here are two snippets from It’s a Kind of Magic, Part I of Chamber by Chamber.

I've been working on articulating my needs. We both have. Ordinarily, I'd be afraid of pushing him away by making demands when he's on the verge of a spiral, but my therapist insists that I can't go on treating Simon with kid gloves. If I never ask him for anything, he'll think he doesn't have anything to give.

And

When I told that to my therapist, she said that I needed to talk it out of me and she'd help me find ways to work through it all. She said I needed to talk it out with Baz, too, so that he'd know how to help me when things got bad again—that was something else she said, that things would get bad again, and that I'd need to be prepared for that. That I couldn't expect things to be easy, and just go away.

6. BONUS! I think the biggest way I include bits of myself is in the AUs I’ve chosen to write. I have three I’m planning that say a lot about me, so I’m going to talk a bit about them here. There is ofc my Scooby Doo AU, inspired in large part by the fact that I watched it all the time growing up and also, my sister continues to be obsessed with it. When we were young, my parents were doing a lot of work on their house and we’d take family trips to the hardware store. My sister and I hated it, so we’d wait in the car with my mom and she would entertain us with “Scooby Doo stories”. Other AUs I’m planning? Troop Beverly Hills—please tell me someone else out there loved this movie the way I did when I was 5. It was very influential to baby me and I remember wishing for nothing more than being able to dress like Shelley Long. So, I’m going to let Baz do it, because I think he deserves it. 🥰 Lastly, tho it will probably be the first I write, is my Cupid and Psyche AU, from when I was heavy into mythology and religion. Since these are all forthcoming projects, I don’t really have a snippet. Instead, here’s Baz comparing Simon to Eros, which is what started my brain on that particular AU.

I am lost. I barely know anything about Salisbury, but I can't help being drawn in. At one time, I could have comforted myself that I was only so smitten with him because he looks like he was sculpted by Praxiteles. That excuse grows weaker with every encounter. He's the furthest thing from a lifeless tribute to beauty in marble as one can be. There is something deep and dark and feral inside of him and I want to claw it out. I want to see it, to let it free. To taste his wildness and his pain.

[quickspinner]

Killer Combo Ch 7 - The Final Showdown

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Epilogue | Bonus Tidbits | ART inspired by this story! | AO3 | Fiction Master Post

I sincerely apologize to everyone who prefers short chapters, as this is another really long one. Pace yourselves as necessary, and thank you so much for persevering to the end with me. I'm so grateful for everyone who has read and liked or reblogged or replied, and I hope though the journey is uh, long, you will find it satisfying. You can search *** for the scene breaks if you need to stop and come back.

Kagami, predictably, was not happy when Marinette returned alone, but Juleka’s vindictive smirk when she heard what her brother was doing was enough to convince Kagami to delay any plans of vengeance she might have been making. “I hope he gives that bitch the earful she deserves,” Juleka muttered darkly, and then snorted. “But knowing Luka, he won’t. He’ll be all gentle and patient and she’ll keep arguing for way longer than he should let her before she realizes she might as well be talking to a brick wall.” 

“You don’t think,” Marinette began, and then stopped, reaching up to smooth her hair self-consciously, shifting her weight on her feet and feeling like a fool as several pairs of knowing eyes turned her way.

Juleka arched an eyebrow, but her smile was sympathetic. “I definitely don’t think,” she said warmly, reaching out to squeeze Marinette’s shoulder in a move that reminded her strongly of Luka. “Luka’s very perceptive and empathetic. It makes him too gentle sometimes, but he’s no pushover. She might think she has a chance, but he’s been over her for a long time. Even if he hadn’t... met anybody , she wouldn’t get anywhere with him.” She grabbed Marinette’s hand and pulled her towards the dance floor, reaching out her other hand to snag Rose on her way. “Now enough about my stupid brother, we only have like an hour of party left, let’s go have fun.” 

Marinette giggled, grabbing Kagami’s arm and pulling her along. 

Kagami had offered to let her stay overnight at the mansion, but Marinette had declined in favor of a ride home. She crept into her room as quietly as she could, sent her parents a text to let them know she was home just in case one of them woke up and worried, and went to wash her makeup off and get ready for bed. 

Her phone beeped just as she was drying off her face, and she picked it up to find a text from Luka. Just letting you know I made it home. Sorry for leaving so suddenly. 

Marinette sighed, and smiled slightly as she answered him. It’s okay, I understand. Did you get everything worked out in the end? She chewed her lip as she sent the message, but she needed to know, and there really wasn’t any good way to ask the question. She finished up with her moisturizer and climbed the stairs up to her bed, wincing at the ache in her feet.

She sat cross-legged on her bed to read his reply. As much as it can be. She’s not happy, but making her happy isn’t my job anymore. She got the message, finally, and that’s all that matters to me. 

Before she’d even finished reading that one, another message came in.

I know it’s really late and I’ll understand if you don’t want to, but I’d really like to hear your voice one more time. Is it okay if I call?

Marinette really wanted to hear his voice too. Before she could second-guess herself too much, she hit the call button.

He picked up immediately. “Hey,” he said softly, voice a little rough and tired-sounding but still enough to make her feel warm and remember the soft touch of his lips against hers. 

“Hi,” she said shyly, suddenly breathless.

“Marinette,” he sighed, and she had to smile at the way he said her name, like he was relieved and happy and exhausted all at once. “I just wanted to say I am so, so sorry about how everything went down tonight, and also...thank you. I think I got some closure tonight that I really needed, and it was really thanks to you and your friends, and...and I’m just incredibly grateful. And I totally owe you a rain check on the party date because I was having a great time until—” he sighed again. “All that other stuff. Your friends are pretty cool.”  

“Yeah,” Marinette smiled, picking at the hem of her pants. “They really are. We’ve had our ups and downs, but the ones that have stuck around, they’re really amazing.” She sighed slightly through her nose, brow furrowing in annoyance. “And I’m really sorry you haven’t had the same experience.”

“Well,” Luka said, and the smile in his voice made her smile too, “I got a taste of it tonight. It’s nice to know friendships like that really exist. I mean, I know they do, I’ve had some...still have some, even if they’re far away, but...okay, I’m rambling and I’m keeping you awake and you’re probably just as tired as I am, but I just, um...I wanted to…” He took a deep breath, and went on a little too quickly, “When I kissed you tonight, I wasn’t, I didn’t do anything right and I was kind of overwhelmed and not thinking clearly, but I want you to know I really—” 

“Wait,” Marinette said quickly, her heart suddenly pounding. “Wait. I think...Luka, if it’s okay with you, I think I’d rather talk about this in person. Maybe when we’re both a little clearer headed than we are right now?”

“Yeah,” Luka said slowly. “Yeah, okay, I guess that makes sense. So...when can I see you in person?” 

Marinette winced, turning and pulling down her schedule. “I have so much to do this week,” she nearly moaned, fisting a hand in her hair and tugging hard. 

“Hey,” he said, and something in his voice made Marinette cringe. “It’s okay.”

“No, I want to, I promise I’m not blowing you off, I really want to talk about this with you, it’s just—of course everything always has to happen at once and…ugh, timing. ” Marinette chewed her lip, scanning across the week, trying to find some time. Surely she could spare him ten minutes somewhere...but was the conversation they needed to have something that she really could rush? What was she even doing, why didn’t she just let him say what he wanted to say, why was she...she was…

Hesitating. Why was she hesitating? Marinette chewed her lip and blew out a frustrated breath, forgetting that Luka was still on the phone. She jumped when he spoke again.

“Marinette,” Luka said, his tone gentle, and she made a distracted noise of acknowledgement. “Listen. Don’t sweat it. I know you have your presentation this week and the tournament, right? If you’re busy and you need some space, that’s fine. Don’t worry about it. We can settle this afterwards. I’m not going anywhere. Well. Not until we talk, at least.” 

Marinette’s eyes landed on the weekend, colored in red and outlined in black. “The tournament,” she said softly. “The championship. We could...we could talk there? Maybe after?” 

Luka was silent for a moment, and Marinette heard him take a deep breath. “Is that the best time?” he said cautiously. “Do we really want to have that on our minds?” 

“You know what,” Marinette said, beginning to smile. “I think it’s the perfect time. It’s where we met, afterall.”

“Well,” Luka said, and she could tell he was smiling too. “There is a certain poetry to that.” 

“Okay,” Marinette said, her smile growing into a grin. “After I’m done kicking your ass in the finals, then.” 

“Oh, brave words from the lady with the forty percent win rate against me,” he laughed, and Marinette made a face.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Max,” she accused. 

“Max is a fun guy,” Luka chuckled. “Not as much fun as you, but you know, he has his moments.” 

Why was she so pleased at that, that he preferred her company over Max, ugh she was pathetic. She covered a giggle anyway, but it turned into a yawn.

“I’ll let you go to sleep,” Luka said, amusement clear in his voice. “Good luck this week, Marinette, and I’ll see you this weekend and...we’ll talk.” 

“Yes,” Marinette nodded decisively, though he couldn’t see her. “We will.” 

***

Two days later and elbow deep in unfinished clothes that were supposed to be runway ready in less than twenty-four hours, Marinette was actually feeling good about her decision to defer her talk with Luka.

Not everyone agreed, however.

“ Girl ,” Alya screeched from Marinette’s floor, where she was hammering rivets into a jacket. Max winced from where he was sitting at Marinette’s desk, pliers in his hand and a spool of jewelry wire next to him. “Why did you do that?” 

Marinette sighed, and bit her lip. “Because—” 

“Because what? ” Alya demanded.

“Because I need to be the one to say it,” Marinette sighed, as she rearranged the fabric on her sewing machine. “It’s just...it’s something I need to do, Alya. I don’t expect you to understand.” 

“Oh I understand,” Alya sighed. “I just think it’s silly. You could be making out right now if you’d just let him say his piece.” 

“First of all,” Marinette grumbled. “You don’t know that, you’re making assumptions. He could have been about to say he really values my friendship and he doesn’t want anything to change. Second, I have way too much to do this week. I wouldn’t have time for making out even if I did have a hot new boyfriend to do it with. Third, I just...I told you, I need to do it. I need to know that I can put myself out there and tell a boy I like him and not just...let it happen to me.”

“You must have done that lots of times, Marinette, what about all those guys you made out with that last year of high school?” 

Marinette rolled her eyes, glancing at Max with a blush, though he was studiously ignoring the conversation, focused on the task in front of him. “It’s not even close to being the same thing.” She felt a little ashamed, actually, of the way she’d used some of those guys, even though they were usually more than happy to be used and she’d never been dishonest with any of them. “This isn’t about just kissing and proving to myself that someone can like me and be attracted to me. It’s not just as simple as asking a cute guy to a party, I just…” She sighed. “It’s the first time I’ve really felt like this since then, with all the butterflies and the fear and the...the…” 

“Passion?” suggested Alya smugly, and Marinette rolled her eyes again.

“Whatever. The point is, I just need to be the one to say it, and I want to do it face to face.” 

“Well, maybe you’re right and I don’t really get it,” Alya sighed. “It sounds like he’s pretty into you, so it seems like you’re splitting unnecessary hairs. But I guess you do what you have to do, girl.”

“I will,” Marinette said firmly, “And what I need to do now is get these garments finished for my presentation so I can put that to bed and focus on beating my gorgeous potential boyfriend this weekend before I confess my—”

“Yeeees?” Alya teased.

“Feelings,” Marinette finished with a flush. “Look, can we be done talking about this now?” 

“Fine,” Alya rolled her eyes and put the hammer down, stretching her fingers. “I’m going to go grab some water, do you guys want some?”

“Yes, please,” Marinette and Max chorused together, and Alya stood up. Before heading to the trap door, she crossed the room to look over Max’s shoulder at the wire he was twisting to match the sketch Marinette had given him. 

“Wow, Max, you’re surprisingly good at that,” Alya commented, and Max gave her a look over his glasses.

“I know my way around wires and a pair of pliers, thank you very much,” Max sniffed. “It’s not that different from wiring a circuit board.” 

“Well, the next time you need help with something like that, count me in,” Marinette said, frowning as she tried to untangle the mess her bobbin had mysteriously become. “I owe you guys sooooo much for this.”

“I will give your offer due consideration when the time inevitably comes,” Max replied. “Incidentally, do you happen to have another ticket to the show? I seem to have misplaced mine.”

“Max, really?” Alya sighed, heading towards the trap door. “You’re going to ask her that now? Have you checked under your piles of nerd crap?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Marinette said, reaching over to grab a decorated box on her desk and rummage through it. “Here you go, Max. Kagami can’t make it so I had one more than I needed anyway.” 

“Thank you, Marinette,” Max said, with a grin that would have made her look twice if she hadn’t been so preoccupied. 

As it was she barely noticed it, and forgot it entirely until much later, when her presentation was over and the high of achievement and the exhilaration of her first really professional fashion show were finally wearing off and she was about to fall into bed for the night. As she fumbled to plug her phone into the charger, she noticed a text on the screen and paused. 

It was from Luka.

You were fantastic up there. Sorry I couldn’t stay long enough to see you after. Congratulations, all the hard work paid off. 

Marinette gaped at the phone for a moment. You were there? she texted back, and then berated herself for not checking the time first. He was probably asleep, he must have sent that text hours ago.

Even as she thought it, her phone pinged with a response.

Yeah, I hope that was okay. Tell Max thanks for the ticket. ;) 

Marinette gaped again, and then pouted for a moment before hitting the call button. 

Luka picked up right away. “Surprise,” he said, laughter in his warm voice.

“Max is a sneak,” Marinette pouted, though she was trying not to smile. “And I’m going to kill him.” 

“Max is a sneak,” Luka agreed. “But don’t be mad. I ran into him the other day and asked how you were, and we got to talking, and I let it slip that I really wished I could be there, and he gave me his ticket on the spot. Made me promise not to tell you until after, though. I would’ve stayed to say congrats but I had a gig I had to get to, and...well I didn’t want to make things weird.” 

“I’m glad you were there,” Marinette smiled, and then added shyly, “You really think I did well?” 

“You did amazing,” he said sincerely, and Marinette felt a thrill that made her wiggle a little in place. “I know a thing or two about stage presence, and you’ve definitely got it. I’m really glad I got to see you present. And...well I can’t claim to know much about fashion, but I really liked what you did.” 

A hot flush raced up her face and she slapped a hand over it even though he couldn’t see her. 

“Marinette? You okay?”

Marinette made an affirmative noise. “Sorry. I just...that makes me really happy. That you think so. That you liked it. I—” She made a high pitched whine. “I’m not making any sense.” 

“It’s late and you’re tired,” Luka chuckled. “It’s fine. I don’t want to keep you up any longer, I just wanted to let you know I was there. Juleka said it was creepy to show up without telling you.” 

Marinette giggled. “Well, she maybe has a point. I would have gotten tickets for you and Juleka both if you had asked.”

“Sorry,” Luka sighed, and she heard a thump that she thought might be his head hitting a table. “I promise, I didn’t mean anything by it, I just...I knew it was important to you and…I know you needed space and I didn’t want to confuse anything and—” He cut off with a strangled noise and sighed. “Okay, I’m going to tell you good night now and hang up before I dig myself any deeper.” 

Marinette had to bite her lip to stop her giggling, “You don’t have to be sorry. I’m really glad you were there, Luka. Really. That...it was important to me, and it’s an important part of me, and I didn’t think about it before but...I’m really glad I got to show you that. Seeing you play on stage, I felt like I really got to see an important side of you that I didn’t know anything about, so...I hope maybe tonight was like that for you.” She bit her tongue, feeling like she wasn’t explaining herself well. 

“It was,” Luka said, his voice softening a little in a way that made her shiver. “It really was, and…” He paused, and cleared his throat. “Well. I know you’ve been working hard and I don’t want to keep you up any later. I just wanted to tell you I thought you did great tonight and I’m super impressed, as always. Get some sleep, okay?” 

“Sleep,” Marinette repeated, hand still over her face. “Sleep would be good. Maybe for like a week.” 

“You’ve really been running hard, huh,” Luka said sympathetically. “Once all this is over, we’ll take some time and just hang out and relax. I’ll play for you.” 

“Really?” Marinette perked up.

“Yeah,” Luka chuckled. “Just like that day on the boat.”

“That was nice,” Marinette smiled, finally letting her hand slide down off her face. 

“Mm. It really was.”

There was a long pause. 

“I should—” she began, just as he said, “You should—” and they both laughed. 

“Good night, Marinette,” Luka said at last. “Rest well.” 

“Good night, Luka,” Marinette murmured. “See you soon.” 

“Soon,” he repeated, and hung up. 

A few minutes later her phone beeped with one final text.

Can’t wait to see you this weekend.

Marinette sent back a single pink heart and fell back giggling onto her bed, kicking her feet for a second in a brief burst of energy before she crawled under the covers and fell asleep with a grin on her face. 

When Max showed up for practice the next day, she punched him in the arm, and then threw her arms around his neck. “You’re a great friend,” she mumbled into his shoulder. “And I hate you.”

Max just chuckled and patted her back.

***

The morning of the UMSIII Master League Championship, Marinette was a fluttering, nervous wreck. That wasn’t totally unexpected, and her parents put up cheerfully with her clumsiness, absentmindedness, and confusion, giving her gentle encouragement and moving the breakables quietly out of her path. Finally they kissed her goodbye, handed her the bag she’d been about to forget, and promised that they would be in the stands with the rest of her friends. 

She leaned her head on the cool metal rail of the subway and tried to breathe. There was a lot on the line today. Marinette was fairly confident she could place, but...she wanted to win. There was a steep drop in the prize value between first and second place and an even sharper drop between second and third. She wanted to do well, yes, but really she wanted to win. 

Luka wanted to win too, and that made her stomach twist. She hadn’t seen him in person since the night of the party. Other than their brief conversations, Marinette had been trying not to think too hard about him, to focus on the competition in her practice sessions with Max, but she wasn’t entirely successful. A lot of things had fallen into place for her since she’d seen him on stage. Now she understood how he played to the crowd in his interviews, the way he could project his voice in a crowd, the calm, easy going demeanor he kept up even in the heat of competition. He was used to pressure, he was used to crowds, he was a trained vocalist, and he enjoyed having an audience. Marinette felt like she had a much better picture of him in her mind now, a better understanding of who he was, and everything she knew just made her want to know more. 

She was determined to tell him so. 

But first she had to get through the tournament. And some small, ugly little part of her was afraid. Would he still want to talk to her if she beat him? 

Of course he would. It was ridiculous to think otherwise. It was just a game, after all.

A game with both their dreams on the line.

She almost missed her metro stop. 

Marinette swallowed hard as she walked up to the huge stadium and showed her player pass to the guard. She was on her own for the moment; the individual finals would be held in the afternoon and the team competition in the evening, so Max couldn’t come with her. Marinette was the only player in the finals for both the individual and the team championship. Well, and Luka. Technically he was still part of the team, even if he wouldn’t play.

She was escorted to a small lounge area where other players had already begun to congregate. She scanned the room but didn’t see Luka. Marinette wandered back and forth aimlessly, growing more and more restless the longer they were stuck waiting, her thoughts growing scattered and fragmented and her hands starting to shake slightly. She wished she’d brought her sketchbook, or some knitting. Something, anything, to vent her energy on and focus her mind.

A touch on her shoulder made her jump and she whirled around to find Luka behind her, looking surprised and then apologetic, shoulders hunching slightly. “Sorry. I called your name, but…” He shrugged and held out a bottle of water, a slow smile spreading over his face. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Marinette smiled shyly back. “Sorry, I guess I was zoned out.” She took the bottle and twisted off the cap. “Too much energy and nowhere to spend it.” She took a sip, peeking at him around the bottle. He wasn’t wearing his Viperion hoodie, but his old one, with her red stitching at the seams. She focused on the logo on his chest as she lowered the bottle. “New shirt?”

“Yeah,” Luka rolled his eyes. “The league sent it to me. Apparently they don’t want their vintage branding on the livestream tonight, so they asked me to wear the new logo.” 

Marinette huffed a quiet laugh. “Naturally.” She wrinkled her nose slightly. “The old one was better.”

“Right?” Luka groaned. “I almost wore it anyway, but…” He shrugged. “Wasn’t worth the fight, to be honest.” 

Marinette started to ask why he hadn’t worn his Viperion hoodie, but changed her mind, not sure that she wanted to know the answer. Instead she blurted, “You look good,” and promptly wanted to kick herself. He did look good; the new shirt fit him better than the old one, his hair was styled more deliberately than usual and the color in it looked recently touched up, bright and vibrant. He was freshly shaved and, she was pretty sure, wearing a touch of makeup, probably to keep from looking washed out under the lights. Of course he would consider those things. Was that peach lipstick? It was a good color on him.

Oh God she was staring. 

“You do too,” Luka smiled, reaching up to brush her pigtail back behind her shoulder. suddenly he winced and jerked his hand back quickly. “Sorry, I shouldn’t—sorry if I’m—”

“It’s okay,” Marinette said, catching the hand he was pulling back. “Really, Luka, I don’t mind. I know it’s how you connect. I know you won’t do anything inappropriate, and I don’t mind the rest, so just don’t worry about it.” 

Luka relaxed, and she squeezed his hand before letting go of it. “Thanks,” he said, reaching up to run a hand through his hair and stopping just in time. He tilted his head slightly, looking at Marinette, who found herself beginning to fidget again. “Are you okay?”

Marinette smiled, but her face felt like wood. “I’m fine. It’s fine.”

Luka raised his eyebrows slightly, and Marinette noticed absently that he was wearing eyeliner. “You don’t look fine,” he observed, and nudged the hand holding the water bottle. “Drink. It’s going to be crazy once things get going. Better to start hydrating now.” 

Marinette drank, more because she didn’t feel like arguing than from actually believing she needed it. “How can you be so calm?” she asked with a gusty sigh after she lowered the bottle.

Luka shrugged and flashed a grin. “Don’t forget I’ve done this before. Helps that I was practically raised on stage, so the lights, the effects, none of that really bothers me.” He put a hand on her shoulder and massaged gently. “I’m honestly a little surprised to see you so tense. I didn’t think anything would rattle you after seeing you up on stage before. You owned it and you didn’t look nervous at all.” 

“That was fashion,” Marinette hissed, glancing at the other competitors. “And I was busy. I didn’t have time to freak out. Not like this, with all the...the waiting. ” She tugged at her pigtails and resisted the urge to whine. “I just want to get started already! Just—all this—” she flapped her hands, trying to indicate the pent-up energy inside her. “There’s nowhere for it to go.” 

“Ah.” Luka glanced away, and then looked at her again. “I don’t know if it would help, but...want to meditate with me? I always try to meditate for at least a few minutes before I have to go on stage. Or into a competition.” 

Marinette blinked at him, for a moment and he shrugged. “But if you don’t want to, it’s fine, I know it’s a little weird, to think about sitting still when you’re so worked up—” 

“No, I—that sounds good.” Marinette glanced around. “But where—”  

Luka tipped his head to indicate a direction and Marinette followed him to a corner of the lounge where there was an old, battered, but currently empty sofa. He sat down and Marinette sat next to him. She glanced around a little self-consciously but most of the competitors were focused on their own pre-game rituals. The nervous chatterers were congregated together, fidgeting back and forth as they all talked over each other. Several others had headphones and closed eyes, a couple were pacing, and the only other female competitor in the room was staring at the ground, mumbling with her eyes closed and her weight shifting from foot to foot. No one was paying the two of them any mind at all. 

“Everybody’s too worried about their own game to care what we do,” Luka murmured, slipping a guitar pick out of his pocket and rotating it in his fingers. “Don’t worry about them, just focus on you.” He held the pick between his thumb and forefinger and breathed in slowly, and then out, closing his eyes. 

Marinette watched him for a moment, then placed one hand over the other in her lap, palms up, and did the same. It took some effort to keep from fidgeting, to force the circumstances from her mind and bring her scattered focus to her breathing and the flow of her energy, but Luka’s calm presence and the slow, regular swell of his ribs moving his arm against hers, helped her settle her mind.

As she breathed, the nervous flutters ebbed. She felt more solidly in her skin than she had all day. The tension was still there, but it was more focused now, less chaotic. She felt worlds better...but a little guilty.

“You shouldn’t be helping me so much,” Marinette murmured, her eyes still closed.

Luka’s shoulder vibrated against hers as he chuckled. “Have you looked at the brackets? Clearly the marketing geniuses have been at work because we don’t face each other until the finals. I want you to be there, not flame out from nerves in your first matchup.” After a moment he added quietly, “And you’re my friend. I can’t see you unhappy and not help. You’ve done a lot for me too, you know.” 

Marinette unfolded her hands and fumbled blindly beside her. She found his forearm and slid her hand down to slip her fingers through his and squeezed. 

“I’m really glad I met you, Luka,” she whispered. “Whatever happens today, I hope we can...” She hesitated, not wanting to say stay friends, because that wasn’t what she wanted. She opened one eye and peeked at him, and saw his eyes open as well as he smiled at her. His thumb caressed the back of her hand lightly.

“I hear you,” he said softly, and the drop in his voice made her insides quiver pleasantly. She was suddenly extremely aware of the rough skin of his hand enveloping hers, the warmth of where their shoulders pressed together. “I’m glad we met too. I want you to be in my life, no matter what happens today.” 

Marinette had to press her lips together to contain her smile. “Yeah...me too.” 

Luka glanced at the other players and gently extracted his hand. He took Marinette’s wrist and put her hand back on her own knee before curling his fingers back together and closing his eyes. Marinette understood, folding her hands back together and deepening her breathing again. It wouldn’t do for them to be cuddling too obviously in front of everyone else. There would already be talk, she was sure, if Ladybug and Viperion began dating after the tournament was over, no matter who won. 

But before she could think of that, she had to win.

And before she could even think about beating Luka, she had other competitors to worry about. He was right. She needed to focus and not let the situation get the better of her.

She stayed there, meditating alongside Luka, until the handlers came to get the players and walk them through their entrances and the procedures between matches. The sight of the jumbotron overhead and the giant stadium full of currently empty but soon-to-be-packed seats made Marinette’s nerves flare up again. Luka’s hand squeezed her shoulder, bringing her focus back to the moment.

“Hey,” he murmured when she looked up at him. “It’s just another match. The livestream’s just a little more up close and personal than we’re used to.” He grinned at her. “They’re all coming to see Ladybug and Viperion face off.” 

Marinette grinned back, and then brought her attention back to the handler explaining the procedure and reiterating the rules.The quarter finals and semifinals would be best two out of three, and the finals best three out of five. Matches would be held simultaneously using the pyrapods set up at ground level, and at the back, an elevated stage contained two pyrapods that would be used for the finals. 

None of this was news and Marinette was back to shifting from foot-to-foot impatiently, checking the time. Luka seemed as calm and relaxed as ever, but she could see the tightness beginning around his eyes and knew he was ready to get started too. 

Finally they were dumped back in the lounge, and Marinette went to the restroom. She’d done the rest of her routine at home, but she wanted her makeup mask fresh and bright. The ritual of putting it on, dusting the red mask across her eyes and drawing in her spots, calmed some of her resurging nerves, and when she straightened up from the mirror, Ladybug looked back at her. 

Ladybug was not going to lose because of stage fright.

Marinette reached back into her makeup bag and hesitated as her hand found her tube of black lipstick. She bit her lip and looked at her reflection again. The championship seemed like a bad time to be making changes, but…

Marinette swapped the black lipstick for red and painted her lips with quick, decisive movements, and then snapped the cap back on with a quiet click. She made sure her pigtails were still tight and secure, tapped her lucky earrings three times, and then zipped up her bag and went back to the lounge, already feeling more confident and ready to compete.

Luka caught her eye immediately when she stepped back inside, and she saw him grin at the change, but then the competitors were being herded out of the lounge and into the tunnel they would take into the arena.

In the chaos, she felt Luka’s hand wrap around hers and squeeze, and quickly let go. The competitors milled around in the tunnel aimlessly, well back from the fog machine spewing smoke near the entrance, until two production assistants dressed in black brusquely took charge and lined them up in a supposedly randomly generated but very important order, warning them to not, under any circumstances, shuffle the order or cross the line before their names were called or move from their place in line. Marinette found herself in the middle of the line, with Luka right beside her. “Random, huh,” Luka chuckled. “Yeah, right.” 

“They’re really hyping us up,” Marinette agreed. 

“Guess we better not let them down.” Luka and Marinette exchanged a look, and then a fistbump. “See you in the finals, Ladybug,” he grinned. 

“I’ll be there,” she grinned back. “You better not stand me up, Viperion.”

“Never.” 

“Oh my God, get a room,” muttered the guy on Marinette’s other side. “You two are disgusting.” 

Marinette flushed, but Luka just chuckled again. “Aww, Pharaoh, you know I love beating you too, it’s just not in the cards today, man.”

Pharaoh scowled over Marinette’s head at him. “Kiss my ass, snake boy.” 

“Oh, when Ladybug here’s done kicking it you’re gonna need somebody to,” Luka said, winking at Marinette. “‘Fraid I’ll be busy, though. Tagger can do it for me, he’ll be free.”

“I hate you so much,” Tagger, Luka’s first round opponent, grumbled from down the line. “Fucking cocky bastard.” 

Marinette giggled, and Luka nudged her shoulder playfully with his. She looked up into his face and she could see the thrill of competition beginning to get to him, in his pirate grin and the sparkle in his eyes, and the challenge there sparked Marinette’s own competitive spirit.

“He’s not wrong,” she said, arching an eyebrow. “I thought the very same thing to myself during our first match.” Luka feigned being struck in the heart. 

“Betrayal!” he laughed. “I’m not cocky, I’m right. It’s not boasting if you can back it up.” 

“You can back it up all the way to second place.” Marinette poked him in the chest and he grabbed her hand, leaning down over her with a grin.

“Don’t make me break out Max’s win percentages again.” 

“The numbers can’t help you now,” Marinette shot back, pulling her hand free. She stepped up close to him and looked up into his face, shoulders back and hands on her hips. “We’re starting with a clean slate today and all that matters is here and now. I hope you enjoyed winning all those matches, Viperion, because it’s only going to make it sweeter when I finally take you down.” 

Luka bit his lip, and Marinette quirked her eyebrow a little higher, and then Pharaoh coughed, making them both jump. “We’re still here, you know,” he said sardonically as Marinette and Luka turned away from each other, Luka clearly fighting a grin, pink coloring the high points of his cheeks, and Marinette turning a brilliant red that she could only hope would fade before she was announced.

Mercifully the announcer began calling names, distracting everyone as a murmur of excitement went down the line.

Suddenly there was no one in front of Marinette and her heart began to pound.

“Ladybug!” the announcer roared, and the crowd erupted into a deafening roar that startled her. Marinette wasn’t given time to hesitate, though; the production assistant planted a hand in the middle of her back and shoved her forward into the fog. For a moment she was blind and confused, but then she stumbled out of the fog and into the bright lights of the stadium. Marinette quickly pasted on a wide smile and raised her arms to wave with both hands to the crowd, though her knees felt like jelly at the sight of so many people and her own promo picture on the jumbotron, smirking at the camera in full makeup and a challenging posture.

Somehow she made it across the field to her mark next to Pharaoh, and then the announcer was calling Viperion, and she turned her head, clapping automatically as Luka emerged from the fog and waved, looking completely at ease with his usual relaxed smile as he sauntered over to stand next to her. Part of the stadium started up a chant for him and he waved again, ducking his head slightly. Suddenly a competing chant of Ladybug! Ladybug! came up and Luka nudged her with a grin. She raised a slightly shaky hand to wave back, and then Luka made a settle down gesture with his hands. Marinette copied him and the chants died down so the announcer could call the next player. 

Marinette curled her fingers together, willing herself not to take Luka’s hand or grab onto his sleeve. Beside her, Luka folded his arms, and she wondered if he was fighting the same urge to touch her. He glanced at her and then quickly away, and her cheeks warmed, and she quickly aimed her suddenly much more sincere smile at the crowd, waving again. 

“You’ve got this, Ladybug,” Viperion leaned down to whisper when the announcer dismissed them to their pods. “I’ll be cheering for you.” 

“Worry about yourself,” Ladybug grinned and winked. “Like you said, I’ve got this.” 

Viperion grinned and shook his head as they separated.

Marinette was still nervous but smiling as she stepped into her pod and picked up her headset. “Viperion’s going to be so disappointed when I beat you,” Pharaoh said as soon as the channel was active. “Poor little Ladybug’s about to get squashed.” 

Marinette snorted. “I hope your game is more interesting than your trash talk,” she snickered. “If that’s as creative as you can get this is going to be really boring.” Pharaoh spluttered and Marinette grinned as the countdown began to blink. The controller in her hands felt like a part of her by now, and she bounced on her toes a little, eager for things to finally begin.

It wasn’t easy; crappy trash talk aside, Pharaoh was a highly ranked player and skilled enough to be a challenge. It was a perfect first match for her, actually, because she had to think to beat him and once her mind was focused and fully immersed in the game, she overcame the few mistakes she’d made early on. She was grinning broadly as she stepped out of the pod and raised her arms to acknowledge the cheers that followed when the announcer boomed out her name as the winner. Even as she did, though, she was looking for the leaderboard on the giant screen above them. At first she saw only her own flushed and happy face, but then the leaderboard reappeared, Viperion’s name blinking and then advancing to the next level. 

“Yes!” Marinette squealed, jumping up and down in place. She whipped her head towards Luka’s pod and watched him emerge. He looked up immediately just as she had, and punched the air and looked back at her with a broad grin. They both stood and watched as one by one the other players turned red or blinked green and advanced. 

Like Kagami’s party, like her presentation and fashion show, everything seemed to go by in a whirl and a blur. Months of preparation and planning and practice and the slow-motion waiting of the morning gave way to a heart-pounding, adrenaline-pumping whirl as she faced down match after match, dominating some and barely squeaking by others. Before she knew it, she was staring up at the jumbotron while the crowd screamed and the announcer cried, “And this is what we’ve all been waiting for, this is what we all came here to see! The final matchup in the Master League Championship will be! Ladybug! Versus! Viperioooooooon!”

Marinette raised her arms and waved with both hands again as the crowd cheered then she was being ushered off the field, back into the tunnel and then to the backstage area to wait while the runners up duked it out for third and fourth place and the crew made sure everything was set up for the final.

Marinette stared up at the steps to the stage and felt herself start to shake. She didn’t even notice Luka speaking at her side until he took her arm and turned her to face him. 

“Marinette, are you okay?” he asked, the grin quickly dropping from his face as he looked at her.

“Yeah,” she said, trying to smile. “I’m f-fine.” 

“You’re pale as a ghost.” Luka’s expression was grave and worried and he pulled her over to a chair and pushed her into it. “Sit. Breathe, Marinette. Are you dizzy?” 

“I’m fine,” Marinette said, trying to take his advice and slow her breathing. “I’m okay. I just...I need a second.” 

She felt Luka move away, but he was back in moments, kneeling in front of her to press a bottle of water into her hand. “Drink,” he ordered, helping her sit up. “Look at me.” He put his fingers under her chin and gently tipped it up so he could look into her eyes. “You’re sure you’re okay? Do you need the medic?” 

“No,” Marinette said, taking a deep breath before lifting the water to her trembling lips. “I’m all right, Luka.” She drank and then sighed. “That was just really intense.” She shot a sardonic smile up at him. “It felt really good though.”

Luka grinned as he took her hand between both of his and rubbed it gently. “It’s a rush, no doubt.” 

Marinette took another drink and mumbled weakly, “Gonna be even better when I beat you.” 

Luka laughed softly and leaned forward, resting his forehead on hers. Something about that touch was very comforting and she leaned into it. “I’m gonna give you a fight, I hope you know that,” Luka told her. “I’m not going to just hand it to you because you’re—” He paused, and Marinette back to look at him. He brought a hand up to cup her cheek, and Marinette wasn’t sure what might have happened if the production assistants hadn’t come looking for them just then. Luka stood up quickly, turning away from her for a moment, and Marinette put a hand over her chest, feeling the frantic flutter of her heart against her palm. 

“Head in the game, Ladybug,” Marinette murmured to herself before she shoved up out of her chair, shaking out her limbs and noting that at least her hands weren’t trembling anymore. 

It was time. The handlers lined them up shoulder to shoulder, in front of a fog-covered arch similar to the one on the field. 

Luka caught her hand and Marinette let him lace their fingers together. His hold was tighter than she expected and she glanced up at him. That competition spark was in his eyes and she could see the tension across his shoulders. He really was pumped up for this. 

He let go of her hand before they walked out together through the fog, waving at the cheering. The lights were hotter and brighter on the stage and Marinette’s nerves increased. She turned to shake hands with Luka and met his eyes, feeling like she was standing outside of her body, but simultaneously hyper aware of his touch and the blue of his eyes and the quirk of his smile before his hand slid away and they each turned to get into their pyrapods. 

Marinette came back to herself a bit when the pod slid closed behind her, shutting out the lights and the noise. She became aware of how fast she was breathing and made an effort to slow it down before she picked up her headset and put it on. 

“Hanging in there, Bug?” Luka asked, and though his voice was teasing she knew he was checking on her.

“You wanted it,” she replied, “I’m gonna bring it.”

“Show me what you got, Ladybug,” he chuckled, and Marinette grinned, pleased that he remembered after all this time. “I can take it.”

The countdown flashed on the screen, and Marinette took one last deep breath. “It’s been a long time since that first match,” Marinette pointed out with a smile. “I’m not the same newbie you played back then.”

“I know,” he said, and she could see his pirate grin in her mind (and she was kind of glad she couldn’t see it projected on the big screen outside; at that magnitude it might actually kill her). “I can’t wait.”

Once they started playing, there was no time to think about anything but the game. 

Luka won the first match, and Marinette couldn’t help her sigh, annoyed with herself. She’d been nervous and jumpy in the beginning and it had cost her. She and Luka were so evenly matched at this point that both knew they couldn’t give an inch or make a single mistake. She was going to have to do better. 

“It’s just the first match,” she heard Luka say over her headset, and she wasn’t sure if it was meant to comfort her or steady him. 

“I never thought it would be easy,” Marinette replied, and then smiled. “So let’s give the people the show they came for.” 

“You know it,” he laughed.

The next match was closer but Luka won that one too, and Marinette bit her lip hard, fighting the churning feeling in her stomach. If she lost the next one, that was it; she couldn’t afford to lose any more. 

Luka groaned as the third match ended. “Man, how do you do that. I was sure I had you there.” 

“I’m full of surprises,” Marinette replied, putting down the controller and shaking out her hands. They trembled slightly from the close call; he really had almost had her, and that would have been the end.

“You really are,” Luka chuckled. “Playing you is never boring, that’s for sure. Okay, just one more match to go.” 

“Oh, don’t count your trophies before they’re in the case,” Marinette muttered, narrowing her eyes though a smile tugged at her mouth. “No way I’m letting you take it that easily.”

“We’ll see,” Luka said, and then the countdown started again. 

The fourth match turned out to be an easy win for Marinette; Luka misjudged his timing early on and Marinette gave him no time to recover.

Marinette had to take a few more deep breaths as they prepared for the fifth and final match. Her stomach felt like jelly but her hands were steady. One more. She just had to beat him one more time. Either way, all of this would be over soon. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that so she pushed it aside, needing all her focus for the game. 

It was close, it was so close. Both of them had just a sliver of health left and Marinette was starting to panic. She’d managed to deflect his first venom strike, but the fight had gone on long enough that the ability had recharged and she hadn’t been able to dodge a second time. He didn’t even have to land another attack; if he held her off long enough, he would win with the recurring damage from the venom strike. She needed to take him out, but he kept interrupting her attacks, taking low level damage from her defensive moves to prevent her from getting a combo attack together. He was gambling that he could hold out until the venom strike wiped out the last of her health bar, and it was a bet he was going to win if Marinette couldn’t get off a decent attack. 

She bit her lip and tried to think. His armor has always been his weak point; she just needed to get one killer combo off and he’d be finished. Luka knew it, too. If he failed to interrupt her even once she’d take him out. Every time he attacked her directly, though, he took damage from her shields and counterattack. He could keep gambling on his health to hold out until the venom strike, or if he timed it just right, he could get his stun attack off and freeze her. If he could get the move off, she’d be held just long enough for the venom strike to finish her. 

But he couldn’t interrupt her attacks while he was charging the ability. If he tried it, and she was fast enough...she’d have to be so fast. It would have to be bug bombs, they were the fastest, and they should be enough. She’d have to be ready and watching, and...

Will he still want to be with me if I beat him? Or will I just be another girl that ruined his dreams?

The thought was both terrifying and unwelcome but even as it hit her, she saw Viperion draw back and begin to charge a glowing ball between his hands. Marinette had no time to deliberate, no time for hesitation. Her fingers moved and her mech exploded into action. She executed the attack and dropped the controller, grabbing her hair with her hands as she watched.

The stun left Viperion’s hands—and her bug bombs landed. Even as her mech froze in place, Viperion went down in a series of dramatic explosions. 

The screen flashed GAME OVER. It flashed up a picture of her mech with the word WINNER over and over.

“Holy sh—,” she heard Luka whisper, but the channel cut off.

She won.

She won.

Numbly she reached up and took off her headset as the pod door slid open behind her. 

She stepped out shakily, looking up uncomprehendingly at the crowd.

Across from her, Luka’s pod door was sliding open. The second there was room, Luka exploded out, leaping out with one of his deafening whoops as he caught her up in a bearhug that nearly took the breath from her. He swung her around. 

“That was amazing,” he shouted, nearly in her ear to be heard over the crowd. “I thought there was no way you could get an attack off fast enough, but you knew—you knew I was going to do it, didn’t you, you were ready, you’re so incredible—” 

“Luka,” Marinette gasped, and laughing, Luka set her down on her feet.

Before Marinette could do more than gasp in a breath, he had ducked down and—well she wasn’t sure exactly what he did, but suddenly she shrieked as he ducked his head under her leg and somehow managed to lift her onto his shoulders despite her flailing. He caught her hands and steadied her, and then let go of one hand to pump his fist in the air and cheer for her. Marinette kept a death grip on his other hand but she managed to smile and reach up to wave at the crowd, letting out a breathless laugh once the shock wore off. The crowd was cheering and her face was on the jumbotron, smiling but still looking more stunned than victorious. Luka turned in a slow circle so she could wave at the whole crowd until her arm was sore. 

It took her a minute to realize the announcer was trying to get her attention. “Ladybug, you are the Ultimate Mecha Strike III regional champion! Congratulations! How do you feel right now?” A slightly hysterical giggle escaped her at the way he had to hold the microphone up above his head to catch her answer. 

“I feel amazing, but my day isn't over yet,” she laughed. 

“That’s right, we’ll see you as part of Team Lucky Charm in the team competition later tonight! We’ll be looking forward to that. Viperion, you and Ladybug have had quite the rivalry going on and you were heavily the favorite to win coming into this event. How do you feel about taking second place tonight?” 

“I can’t be sore about a loss like that,” Luka laughed. “Of course I wanted to win, but—” He shook her head. “You can’t deny that was brilliant.” He patted Marinette’s leg on his shoulder. “Congratulations, Ladybug. The best player definitely won today.” 

“All right, look for more exclusive interview content with Ladybug and Viperion on the blog later tonight,” the announcer said into the microphone, looking up into the crowd. “We’re going to take a short recess to get things ready here and then we’ll be back to bring you the Master League team championship. “Congratulations again, Ladybug and Viperion.”  

He gestured them back towards the arch, and Luka carried Marinette back through it, both of them waving at the crowd as they went.

Marinette’s legs felt like jelly as she scrambled down from Luka’s shoulders, and he held her elbows as she swayed slightly, and when she was steady he hugged her tight. “Congratulations.”

“You’re not mad?” she asked softly, looking up at him through her lashes.

Luka curled a finger under her chin and tipped her face up so that she was looking at him more directly. “I’m not mad,” he promised, and the soft smile he gave her and the gentle look in his eyes made her believe him. “I’ll be disappointed, probably, tomorrow. I’ll have to scale back my plans. But that’s okay. I took a chance and it didn’t work out in my favor. You played your best. No regrets here. I’m so happy for you, too, and impressed, and…” he paused, and took a deep breath. “I’m definitely not mad.” His hand moved up to cup her cheek, and his thumb brushed over her face for a moment. 

“Viperion, Ladybug! Press room, let’s go.” 

“Oh,” Marinette gasped, but Luka just chuckled and put a hand on her arm. She went with him a little numbly until they were separated for the post-game interviews. Marinette wasn’t sure anything she said was coherent, but she had enough presence of mind to work in a mention of the bakery and her fashion business, so hopefully it wasn’t a total loss. 

“I’m sure you did great,” Luka told her as they walked out. 

“I hope so,” Marinette sighed, putting a hand against her forehead and flapping her hoodie to get some air under it. “But it’s over now, so no point in worrying about it.” 

“Yeah,” Luka smiled, and then nudged her shoulder with his arm. “I guess you better go. You’re not done yet, remember?” 

“Yeah,” Marinette nodded, turning to face her. “But...you’re going to stay, right?” 

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Luka grinned. “I’ll be cheering you on, no fear. And...I’ll be here after. Assuming you still want to talk?” 

“I do,” Marinette said quickly, blushing. 

“Okay then. You go get ready and find Max, and I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” Marinette whispered, and rose on her toes to quickly kiss his cheek before following a production assistant with a clipboard back to the player lounge.

Max nearly knocked her over in his enthusiasm as soon as she walked in, and she clung to the back of his hoodie, laughing incredulously. “I still can’t believe it,” she whispered. 

“I believe the evidence is irrefutable,” Max pointed out, and Marinette rolled her eyes, pushing him away. 

“You changed your lipstick,” Max observed as she looked up at him, and Marinette’s fingers flew to her mouth. 

“Oh, I forgot. I can—I can go change it back, if you’re afraid it’ll jinx us—” She knew how Max would react as soon as she said the words and pouted while he snorted with laughter.

“I appreciate the thought, but I don’t think the color of your lipstick will be the deciding factor,” Max snickered, and Marinette shoved him, making him stagger.

“Jerk,” she muttered. 

“I bet Luka liked it,” Max observed smugly, and Marinette’s face flamed red. 

“We’re not going to win this tournament if I break your arm before it starts,” she threatened, punching Max (lightly, as she knew her skinny friend bruised easily) in the arm. 

“I’m sure Luka would comfort y—ow!”

The waiting dragged on again but at least this time she had Max to talk to and strategize with. Once they walked out of the stupid fog tunnel, the whirl began again. It wasn’t any easier, Marinette found, but this time it was Max, confident in his calculations and their abilities, who was her steadying influence. She had more leeway, too, with Max there, they could cover for each other's mistakes. It felt like only moments before they were ushered into the backstage area, waiting to face their final opponents. Marinette felt a bit shaky and weak in the knees again from the rush, but this time she sat herself down and breathed through it while Max paced, muttering strategy and calculations to himself.

Someone cleared their throat beside her and Marinette looked up to find Luka standing there. Now he was wearing his Viperion hoodie, his face made up in a very good approximation of the mask Marinette had put on him when they played together, and he grinned widely at Marinette’s staring eyes. “Surprise.” 

Marinette sputtered for a moment, leaping to her feet as Max reversed his pacing and came over. “What are you—how did you even get back here?”

Luka shrugged, still grinning. “I’m on the team roster so I’m cleared to be here. I just wanted to wish you good luck,” he said, addressing them both though his eyes kept coming back to Marinette. “Not that you need it. I um, I hope this is okay.” He gestured vaguely at himself, and Marinette shut her gaping mouth with a snap. “I didn’t feel right wearing it while we were going head to head, but I just...I wanted to be here and support you guys as much as I could.” He held out his hand to Max, though he sent a worried-looking glance at Marinette, who couldn’t seem to move. 

“Absolutely,” Max said, stepping forward to meet Luka’s fistbump as if he didn’t notice Marinette was suddenly paralyzed next to him. “You’re a part of this team, and it wouldn’t feel right doing this without you.” 

Luka shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t do that much.” 

Marinette’s mouth dropped open again, this time in outrage, but Max beat her to it. “Don’t conflate the magnitude of the effort with its importance,” he told Luka, reaching out to pat his arm awkwardly. Luka’s eyes flicked to Marinette for a moment and she could see his amusement, though he kept a straight face. “Without your assistance we would never have finished the tournament in such an advantageous position for the finals,” Max continued, drawing his hand back to adjust his dark glasses. “We are indeed grateful and your position as a teammate is by no means honorary. I hope when we emerge victorious, you will join us in the awards ceremony.” 

“Oh, I—” Luka looked thrown, but Marinette nodded enthusiastically, catching his arm and squeezing it.

“Max is right. You belong up there with us.” She aimed a reassuring smile at him. “I’m glad you’re here.” 

The tension left Luka’s shoulders and he started to say something, but he was cut off.

“Team Lucky Charm!” the man with the clipboard shouted without actually looking at them. “Prep for entry. Go up the stage steps but do not cross the yellow line until you’re announced.” 

Marinette’s eyes widened slightly, and her whole body tensed. Once again she put a hand over her wildly beating heart and tried to breathe. One more time. She just had to face the lights and the screaming one more time.

Luka’s hand covered hers on his arm and Marinette realized she was digging her fingers into his sleeve. “Hey,” he said, gently detaching her fingers from his sleeve. “You’ve got this. Just like before, right? Own it.” He drew her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips lightly. Warmth spread from her fingers down her arm and through her body, pooling in her face and stomach. “Come on, before Max leaves you behind,” Luka said, letting go of her hand and placing his on her lower back, pressing gently until she began to move. He walked with her to the bottom of the stage’s metal stairs behind Max, who was marching forward with determination, confident that the numbers were on their side and determined not to be swayed by something as illogical as stage fright.

Marinette paused at the bottom of the stairs, Luka’s hand still warm on her back, her heart beating wildly in her throat. 

“Remember,” Luka soothed from behind her. “All you have to do is get across the stage and it doesn’t matter how. Once you’re in the pod you’ll forget everything else, just like before. Besides,” he grinned. “They’re just people. You’re the champion.” 

Marinette turned impulsively and hugged him tight. “Thank you,” she muttered, not quite daring to press her face into his chest. Luka’s hands went to her shoulders and squeezed. “Thank you for everything today.

“You’ve got this,” he repeated, sliding his hands down to her arms and shifting her gently back until she stepped up onto the first step, and once her eyes were level with his it became a little easier to breathe in the face of his calm confidence. “Whatever’s gonna happen is gonna happen, right? So just get out there and play.” He grinned. “Good luck, Ladybug.” 

Marinette felt an answering smile growing on her face.

“Marinette!” Max called from where he was waiting near the top of the stairs. “Hurry up!”

Marinette looked up at Max as Luka let go of her, but she turned back quickly, grabbed Luka’s face in her hands, and pressed her lips hard to his. He made a startled noise, and when she would have pulled back his hand came up to cradle the back of her head, prolonging the kiss as he swayed after her. Max hissed her name again from the top of the stairs and Luka let her go, breathing hard, something kindling in his blue eyes that made her flush and grin stupidly back at him. 

Then Max was grabbing her arm and hauling her, stumbling, back up the stairs with him. “The sooner you two have that talk, the better,” he muttered as they went up the last few steps together, Marinette trying to contain the stupid grin that kept wanting to break out on her face. "May I remind you we have a competition to win? The sooner it’s over, the sooner you two can go make out in a supply closet.”

“Max!” Marinette whisper-shouted in horror, and Max just grinned. 

“Win first,” he told her, adjusting his horseshoe pendant. “Kisses later.” 

Before she could retort, the announcer roared out, “Team Luckyyyyyy Chaaaarm!” and there was no more time to think about anything besides the bright lights and roaring crowd, and then the blink of the countdown and the hard plastic of the controller against her palms.

***

Luka was waiting when Marinette came flying down the stairs, a laughing Max following in her wake. 

This time she leapt into his arms, making him stagger, and her feet never touched the ground as he laughed and spun her around. He bounced her a couple of times before she let her feet drop to the floor and gave him enough room to share a fistbump and back-slapping hug with Max. 

Then everything was a whirl again, as all three of them were ushered to the press room for interviews and soundbites, and Marinette wasn’t sure whether she managed to get out anything coherent or not. She and Max both kept a hold on Luka, dragging him into the interviews with them, and they presented as a team. Luka’s experience bailed them out a couple of times when unexpected questions gave them pause, and his hand on her back was steadying when she started to stammer. Marinette paused and took a breath and steadied her voice before answering the next question. 

“You guys did great,” Luka murmured when they were finally released, and then there was another flood of bodies on them, and Alya was screaming in her ear and Max’s mother was screaming in his and then Kim wrapped his arms around both Max and Mrs. Kante just as Marinette’s dad did the same to her and Alya, and for a few moments it was a fight to breathe. Marinette saw a flash of Juleka’s purple hair and heard the Captain’s voice boom but everyone was talking at once and Marinette was too overwhelmed to focus on any of it.

Finally, the families were ushered back out to the stands with instructions to be back in their seats in forty-five minutes for the official awards ceremony. As the room began to clear out, leaving the top players milling around with varying expressions of elation and exhaustion. Marinette looked around and found Luka. He was looking right at her, and when their eyes met he tipped his head slightly and indicated the doors. Marinette nodded, heart suddenly in her throat, and Luka flashed her a quick grin before turning away. 

“Max,” Marinette whispered watching Luka slip out of the doors, “What are my odds?”

“The human heart is impossible to calculate, Marinette,” Max said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Although that kiss would argue for a positive response.” He squeezed her shoulder lightly. “No matter what happens, I support you one hundred percent.”

Marinette’s brain was already humming, giving her a list of excuses and reasons why it would be better to put this off, starting with the looming awards ceremony and moving on from there, but Max’s hand on her shoulder and Kagami’s words in her mind got her moving forward. No more hesitation. 

Marinette wormed her way through the bodies between her and the door and slipped out. She nearly collided with Luka, who was clearly waiting for her. He flashed her a grin and caught her hand, tugging her down the hallway. 

“Luka, where are we going?” Marinette hissed as he walked quickly, pulling her along.

“Somewhere we can talk,” he told her, keeping his voice quiet. “Just don’t make too much noise, okay?” 

Marinette frowned. “We better not really end up in a supply closet.” 

“What?” Luka nearly choked trying to muffle his laughter. “No, I promise, I can do better than that. My mom’s played this arena a couple of times, I know my way around.”

“But—” Marinette began, but then closed her mouth as Luka opened the door to a stairwell and started up it. “I don’t think we’re supposed to be up here,” she whispered as Luka checked the floor number and peeked through the window of the door. 

“Nope,” he grinned, opening the door and motioning her through. “Do you trust me?”

She did, so she went through. “We’re not going to the roof this time, are we?” she asked skeptically, and Luka chuckled. 

“Not this time.” She followed him down a dimly lit hallway and did her best not to squeal in incredulous dismay as he jimmied a door lock with a credit card. 

“All the security on the entrances, and crap locks up here,” he said, swinging the door open. “Typical.” 

“I didn’t realize you were a cat burglar in your spare time,” Marinette muttered as he took her hand and drew her inside what turned out to be some kind of private viewing lounge. She could see through the big windows down into the stadium, and the room was scattered with couches and cocktail tables. 

“Nah,” Luka laughed quietly through his nose, slipping his wallet back into his pocket. “I’m a pirate.” 

Marinette looked at him, and he winked at her with that grin, and she couldn’t help breaking into giggles. “You are, aren’t you,” she laughed, covering her mouth. Luka snickered with her, and for a moment they could only stand there trying to stifle their laughter. Luka made no move to turn the lights on, probably to keep anyone from noticing that the room was occupied, but there was enough light from the windows that they didn’t need it, and eventually their laughter died down, and they were left just looking at each other. 

Luka cleared his throat, pulling two bottles of water from the pockets of his hoodie. He held one out to her and she took it gratefully, suddenly aware she was parched. 

“I feel like you’ve been taking care of me all day,” Marinette said, stifling more slightly hysterical giggles, and Luka grinned at her. 

“Sorry. Big brother thing I guess. Or...well, maybe not,” he blushed and looked away. “I just know you’ve been pushing yourself a lot lately, and today was…” He blew out a breath and shook his head with a grin. “A lot. It can really take it out of you if you’re not taking care of yourself, so...sorry if I’ve been pushy.” 

Marinette smiled at him over the rim of her water bottle as he reached to twist the cap off his own. “I didn’t mi—whoa, are you okay?” she reached out to steady him as he suddenly fumbled it, spilling water over his hands.  

“Fine,” he said, a little too quickly, shaking the water off his hand without looking at her. “I’m fine.” He took a drink and then coughed, and Marinette pounded his back, concerned. 

“Geeze, slow down,” she said, torn between amusement and exasperation. “Maybe somebody ought to be taking care of you.”

He coughed through an embarrassed laugh. “Sorry. God, you always catch me off guard.” 

Marinette blushed, though she didn’t understand exactly what he meant. Getting control of himself he added quickly, “Congratulations. You and Max both did amazing. I think I screamed myself hoarse cheering you on.” 

Marinette hunched her shoulders slightly with a pleased smile. “You did really great too. I can’t wait to watch the replays, I heard you destroyed Desperada in the second round.”

Luka winced. “Yeah, that was rough, our skills just…” He shook his head. “She’s an amazing player with what she’s got but she’s basically never beaten me because of the way our stats stack up. She’s done so well, I hated for her to go down like that, but…” He shrugged and grinned. “I did what I had to do. Wasn’t going to miss going up against you in the final.”

Marinette grinned back, and then dropped her gaze, a silence falling between them that threatened to become awkward if one of them didn’t find a way to start. Determined that it would be her, Marinette began in a rush. “Um. Well I wanted to—we haven’t really talked, a-about, and we said we would, and I know maybe it might seem like we don’t need to, and, well this might not actually be the best time but if we wait for the perfect moment it’ll never happen, and I know we, uh, before, and then tonight, and so maybe we don’t need to but I just, I hate it when there are all these misunderstandings because people don’t talk and we should talk and—stop laughing!”

“Sorry,” Luka said, bringing up a hand to cover his mouth as he continued to chuckle. “I can’t help it. I’m happy and you’re really cute.”   

“Damn it,” she hissed, reaching up with both hands to pull on her pigtails in frustration, “I’m so bad at this!”

“You’re doing fine,” Luka said, taking the bottle of water from her and setting both hers and his on one of the tables. He stepped closer and put both hands on her shoulders, and rubbed lightly. “I can go first if you’d rather.” 

Marinette groaned and buried her face in her hands, suddenly mortifyingly close to tears. She was being an idiot. He’d kissed her, and let her kiss him, and acted like he wanted to keep kissing her, and with the texts during the week, and the way he’d been smiling at her all night, and he came to her fashion show, and bringing her up here and the way he was acting now, he really couldn’t be more clear, so why was she still so terrified? 

“Marinette,” he said, his voice soft and affectionate, “Listen, I think you’re—”

“No!” she yelled, throwing out her hands and stepping back from him, breaking his hold on her shoulders. “No, I have to do this, please.” 

God, she was going to ruin everything, he must think she was insane. There was no way that she could explain to him the utter train wreck that had been her years-long crush-obsession with Adrien Agreste, all the things she’d said and completely failed to say, all the time she’d spent analyzing their least little interactions, all the times she’d practically stalked him only to lose her courage and lie at the last minute, until finally, finally, the words passed her lips in a jumbled wreck and were met with— 

She peeked one eye open and could see that Luka was looking at her with concern. His eyes were blue and not green, his hair dark and not blond, and the expression on his face was concern and empathy and not blank confusion.

It wasn’t the same. She could do this. It wouldn’t be the same. It wasn’t the same. She wasn’t the same.

“Are you sure?” Luka said hesitantly. “If it’s this hard for you, then—I mean I thought you’d know by now that I—but you don’t have to say anything you’re not ready for, you know that, right?” 

“No, it’s not that, and it’s not you, it’s me, and I need to deal with it. Please, Luka,” Marinette added desperately. She needed to put this ghost to rest and this was the only way she knew how.

“Okay. Okay, Marinette.” He reached up and took her hands, tugging them gently away from her face and then pulling her over to sit on one of the small couches. “I’m listening. Do what you need to do.”

“I’m sorry,” she sighed, slumping back for a minute. “It’s just, the last time I did something like this it...it didn’t go so well and I know this is different, I do, but it’s...it’s hard. But I want to. I want to do it. I...I kind of need this, Luka.”

“Okay.” Luka slid a little closer, his hands still wrapped around hers. “I hear you. Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Right,” Marinette whispered, half to herself. “Okay.” Luka squeezed her hands and she realized they were shaking. She needed to get this over with before she went completely to pieces. Why did he always have that effect on her?

No.

Adrien had that effect on her. 

Luka—Marinette forced herself to raise her eyes to Luka’s, and saw only warmth and encouragement there. She straightened and put her shoulders back and took a breath to steady herself, though the shaking didn’t stop.

“I r-really like you, Luka,” she began, wincing slightly at the stutter and feeling her lips begin to tremble too. “You’ve been a wonderful teammate and a good f-friend, but you’re—” She swallowed hard; this was too close, too close to the words she’d used back then, but it was too late, she had to keep going. “You’re so much more than a friend to me,” she went on in a rush. “At least, I—I want you to be. S-so maybe, if you, um, if you want to, maybe we could go out. Sometime. On a date. A real date, not a just-friends date.” She squeezed her eyes shut and looked down quickly, face burning, suddenly feeling totally inept and like a complete fool and what had she been thinking—

“Yeah.”

Marinette looked up. “What?” Luka was grinning broadly, and he looked oddly...proud. Of her? 

Maybe he really was as perceptive as Juleka said.

Shit he was talking, she should listen. 

“I said yes. Yes, hell yeah, I’d love to go out with you.” 

Marinette blinked at him uncomprehendingly. Luka laughed at the look on her face. “You’re unbelievable,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Smart, sassy, gorgeous, tough, incredibly brave, why wouldn’t I go out with you? Do you really think I’m that big an idiot?” 

She gaped at him like a fish.

“Can it be my turn now?” Luka asked, when she didn’t find anything to say, and she nodded dumbly, not entirely sure her soul was still inhabiting her body.

Luka leaned toward her and gently framed her face in his hands. “Marinette, these last few months have been the best I’ve had in a long time and you’ve been a huge part of that, as an opponent and a friend and...honestly the more time I spend with you the more amazing you are to me. I know there’s probably still a lot we don’t know about each other, but I want to. I want you to know me, and I want to know you. All of you. I want to be an expert in Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” 

Marinette had to giggle at that, slapping her hand over her mouth in horror at the high-pitched girly sound of it. Luka’s grin widened as he shook his head and pulled her hand away from her mouth, threading his fingers through hers and lowering their hands to his lap. “Don’t cover it up, it’s so pretty,” he told her, and his slow grin set off an entirely different panic as he tipped her chin up with his free hand, brushing his thumb lightly across her lips. “I was right about the red,” he said, and when did his face get so close, oh no, but also yes, but wait was this too soon or should she—but she wanted to and if he wanted to then that was good enough, right? ”Can I kiss you now?”

“Okay,” she said shakily, and he leaned in slowly, watching her face. 

“You sure?” he said, pausing and sitting back a bit. “You don’t look like you—”

As she stared at Luka frowning with concern because he thought she didn’t want to kiss him, there was almost an audible snap in her head as the past settled back where it belonged and the now became sharp and clear. What the hell was she doing?

Marinette grabbed the front of Luka’s hoodie and dragged him forward. “Get over here,” she ordered, though the breathiness in her voice took a lot of the force out of it. It was enough, though, Luka closed the distance with a desperate little noise and their lips met once, twice, three times in hard, passionate kisses, before finally settling together into something softer but no less heated. The hand under her chin slid up to flatten along the side of her throat, and then slid farther back to curl around the back of her neck, Luka’s thumb brushing her jaw as he tilted her back. He was kissing her like—like— 

Like he really did like her as much as she liked him, like he meant all those things he said to her, like he’d been thinking about it for a while now— 

And he was really good at it, she acknowledged dizzily as his lips began coaxing hers to open. 

But hell if she was going to let him run the show. She nipped his lower lip and he startled slightly. Grinning in the small space that granted her, Marinette wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled the other free from his hand to grab the back of the couch and pull, forcing him back as she straightened and rolled up to her knees so that he was the one with his head tilted back, and only then did she part her lips and slide her tongue into his mouth, hands moving to hold his face at just the right angle. The strangled noise he made and the way he grabbed at her hips was very satisfying. It felt so good to get some payback after all the time she’d spent agonizing over her crush on him. She wasn’t even sure he was aware of the way his hands were scrabbling against her, trying to pull her into his lap. 

She broke the kiss, laughing when he tried to follow her to prolong it. “Easy, we still have to go back in public after this,” she teased, and Luka groaned, letting his head fall back against the bench.

“Fuck me,” he muttered breathlessly, and Marinette snorted, leaning against him.

“What kind of girl do you think I am?” she scoffed, and Luka’s eyes flew open. 

“No, no, God, no, I didn’t mean, I wouldn’t—” 

Marinette let him stammer for another few moments out of pure revenge for all those times he had grinned at her while she tripped over her tongue, before she leaned in and kissed him, softly this time. “Shut up and put yourself back together, Viperion, we still have an awards ceremony to get through.”

“ Shit. ” Luka let go of her and covered his face with his hands. “I’m gonna need a minute.” 

Marinette put her hand over her mouth and tried not to laugh but she couldn’t help it. She was just so happy. Luka dropped his hands and grinned at her, reaching out to snag her around the waist and pull her close, kissing her even as she continued to laugh, pure joy singing from her soul as she pretended to dodge him. He planted kisses on her jaw and her neck as she squealed and tried half-heartedly to wriggle away before giving up and turning to kiss him again on the mouth, and then again, and then again, slow, deep kisses. 

“What?” she asked as Luka chuckled against her mouth. 

“Nothing,” he sighed, nudging his nose against hers. “Just feeling lucky I guess. I’m so happy, Marinette.” 

Marinette smiled, but they did need to be getting back, so she pushed his hands away for real and slid off the couch.

She bit her lip in amusement when Luka whined, leaning his elbows on the back of the couch and letting his head hang back. “Do we have to?” he groaned. “I really hate ceremonies.”

“Yes,” Marinette grinned, grabbing his hand and pulling him up off the couch. “I want to see you up there, right in the number two spot where you belong.” 

“Oh, low,” Luka laughed, dragging his feet as she tugged him towards the door. “Wait, wait.” He pulled his hand free and turned back to grab their water. “Never leave evidence behind,” he said, handing her one of the bottles with a wink. “Especially not evidence with lipstick stains.” 

Marinette giggled. “Wait, is that why you—” 

“No comment,” Luka said, cheeks reddening as he threw the incriminating evidence in the hallway’s recycling bin.

They weren’t very sneaky coming back down the stairs, giggling and snuggling and nearly tripping more than once because they were standing too close together. 

When they emerged into the full light of the hallway outside of the lounge, Luka looked at Marinette and smirked. “Hey Ladybug.” 

“Hmm?” Marinette raised her eyebrows.

Luka leaned in and kissed her until they were both breathless. “Fix your lipstick,” he whispered against her lips, and laughed as Marinette cursed and jerked back, slapping a hand over her mouth. Her red lipstick had held up to the relatively innocent kisses backstage, but now it was smeared all over his mouth, blended with the peach he’d been wearing, and her face couldn’t possibly look any better. Luka burst out laughing at her expression, and Marinette began to giggle again too. 

“Here, I have some wipes,” he managed to say at last, pulling a packet of makeup remover wipes from his back pocket. “Let me help.” 

“You should, since it was your fault,” Marinette shot back, taking the packet from him and pulling a wipe free. She pouted as Luka snatched it back from her fingers, but she didn’t really mean it, and she let him take her chin in his hand and tilt her face up.

“I’m not even sorry,” Luka chuckled, eyes on her lips as he gently wiped away the smears. “I’ll buy you a better brand.” He winked, and then his humor settled into a quiet contentment that shone in his face. “That was pretty amazing, Marinette. I hope we can do it again sometime soon. Maybe I could take you out to dinner and—”

“Marinette!” Max called, bursting out of the doors down the hall and looking around for a moment before spotting them. His shoulders slumped in relief. “There you are! You weren’t answering your phone, I was getting concerned. It’s almost time.”

Luka winced, going to work quickly on his own face. “Busted,” he murmured, and Marinette could hear the laughter in his voice.

Marinette snorted. “Like he didn’t already know. He’s been teasing me about you since we met.” She raised her voice and called, “We’re coming.” She took Luka’s hand and tugged him along with her back to the doors where Max was waiting. 

Max adjusted his glasses and looked at his phone. “We’re due for the ceremony in two minutes and forty-five seconds.” 

“Thanks for the heads up,” Marinette smiled. “I’m good to go, I just need to grab my makeup bag and fix my lipstick.”

Luka made a noise that sounded suspiciously like choked laughter, but Marinette didn’t look at him, squeezing his hand tight enough that he winced. 

“Oh, you left it on the drink table earlier, I picked it up for you,” Max said, pulling her lipstick tube out of his pocket and coming down the hallway to meet him. “It looks good to me, though, are you sure you want to take the time?”

Luka coughed into his hand, obviously trying not to laugh, but Max didn’t even glance at him.

“It’ll only be a second,” Marinette said, taking the tube from him. She opened it and paused as they reached the doors, using her reflection in the window to apply her lipstick over her naturally reddened lips. She could see Luka over her shoulder finger-combing his hair back into place. She capped the tube and handed it to Luka with a wink. “Hold onto it for me? I have a feeling I might need it again later.”

“Sure,” Luka grinned, and reached around her to pull the door open. “Just find me whenever you’re ready to need a touch up.” 

It was Marinette’s turn to choke on a laugh, while Max threw Luka a slightly puzzled glance, but clearly dismissed his odd phrasing in favor of ushering them all back into the ceremony. Marinette grinned. Max might think he’s all worldly, but when he’s focused on something he doesn’t notice anything.

***

They made it through the awards ceremony and almost an hour of the afterparty, accepting congratulations and fistbumps and handshakes and ribbing (mostly good-natured, some not so much, but Marinette had never cared less in her life than she did at that moment). Then someone on the game committee stood up to make a speech and Marinette saw her opportunity. She grabbed the lapel of Luka’s hoodie and tugged lightly. He met her gaze and grinned, following her pull willingly. 

She ducked into a shadowed hall, pulling him just beyond the light from the party, and as soon as she leaned back against the wall he was bending over her, though the kiss he laid on her lips was soft and gentle and over much too quickly. 

“Sorry,” he murmured, with a lopsided grin. “That was kind of presumptuous I guess.” 

Marinette grabbed the lapels of his hoodie and pulled him in for another soft kiss. “Maybe. I don’t mind though.”

“I really like you, Marinette,” Luka said, one hand finding her hip while the other leaned on the wall beside her. “In case I didn’t make that clear before. Not just kissing you, though, for the record, I really like that too, but. You. It’s you.” 

Marinette smiled, a happy flutter in her stomach making her wiggle a bit. “You should probably know I’ve had a massive crush on you for weeks,” she admitted shyly, still holding on to his hoodie. 

Luka’s grin got wider, his eyes lighting up. “Yeah? Weeks?”

Marinette pouted at him. “Don’t lie, you knew.” 

Luka chuckled and looked away. “Maybe. I just...I didn’t know what to do with it for a while. I didn’t want to lead you on if I wasn’t...but then I was, and...” He looked back at her and grinned slowly. “Just weeks, huh?” 

Marinette shrugged, looking somewhere over his left shoulder. “Weeks. Months. Something like that.” She twirled her finger in the string of his hoodie, still not quite looking at him. “So I’m maybe not at all opposed to—presumption.” 

“That’s, um…” He was clearly trying to keep his smile under control, but it wasn’t working. The grin on his face was rapidly crossing into idiotic. Marinette giggled. “That’s really good to hear,” he continued, “because I’ve been getting really stupid over you really fast since we started working together, so...I’m kinda glad you got a head start. It’s actually really flattering coming from a girl like you.”

Marinette frowned slightly. “A girl like me?

Luka gave her an amused look. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, Marinette, but you’re kind of a catch.” 

Marinette blinked at him, startled, and Luka buried his face in her shoulder to muffle his laughter. “Oh my God, you really hadn’t noticed. You’re so damn cute.” 

“Cute!” Marinette huffed indignantly, but Luka lifted his face from her shoulder and nudged his nose against hers with a low chuckle that made her shiver.

“Adorable,” he told her, with so much affection that she couldn’t be offended. “Also really, seriously hot, which, I don’t even know how you manage to do both of those at once, but—” He cleared his throat. “Can I—” 

“Yes,” Marinette giggled, tugging on his hoodie, and he bent, closing his eyes and kissing her with a slow heat that made her weak. She slid her hands up his firm chest and over his shoulders until they met behind his neck, savoring the pleased noise he made. Luka broke from her mouth and laid soft kisses along her jaw. 

“When can I see you again?” he asked, his voice so deep it was practically a growl, and Marinette shivered again. Luka cocked his head slightly. “You okay?” 

“I, um,” Marinette bit her lip. “I really like your voice,” she admitted in a rush. 

“Yeah?” That idiotic grin was growing on his face again and she was rapidly falling in love with it, with the way that he looked at her…

With him. She was falling pretty hard for him. And her only consolation was that he seemed to be tumbling head over heels along with her. The idea of loving someone who loved her back was...heady, to say the least. Not even the most euphoric moments of her ill-fated pining compared to this.

“Marinette?” he prompted, nudging his nose against hers. “I’m serious. I really want to see you again soon.” 

She kissed him again, just because he was so close. He chased her when she would have ended it, and she smiled against his lips before letting him coax her into a much longer, deeper kiss. 

“Wednesday?” she said, when he finally drew back. 

“Hm?” he blinked slightly glazed eyes and Marinette giggled. She straightened up off of the wall and leaned into him instead, fingers sliding up to play with the short hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Wednesday,” she repeated. “You can pick me up at seven. Bring your guitar, you promised to play for me again.” 

“I did,” he agreed, voice dipping low again as his hand slid around to the small of her back. “I can’t wait.” 

“Bring your A-game,” she told him. “I expect to be swept off my feet. But come hungry and plan somewhere light for dinner because my parents will freak when I tell them I have a boyfriend. There will definitely be appetizers. There might be cake. Maybe even a souffle. You tell Papa his rematch will have to wait though because I’m not sharing you this time.”  

The dopey grin returned. “I’m your boyfriend?” 

Marinette blinked, and then blushed hotly, which both made him grin wider and limited her ability to play it off, but she did her best. “You’re on trial. Think you can handle it?”

“Oh, definitely,” he chuckled, and that dopey grin turned into the pirate grin that always made her melt. “The question is, can you?” 

“Oh that’s how it is,” Marinette managed, raising her eyebrows. 

“Yeah,” he murmured, freeing one hand to slip it behind her neck and tilt her face up. “That's how it is. So you let me know when you’re convinced.” His lips descended on hers and his body pressed hers in the wall and by the time he was done kissing her Marinette was pretty thoroughly convinced.

Not that she planned to admit it anytime soon.

She was pretty sure she was going to like this game.

[harrylee94]

Log Entry XXXXXX - Chapter 5

Summary: A new space station, complete with the most high spec and up to date technology there is to offer, has been set up at the edge of the known universe, a new way point for explorers to keep in contact with the rest of the human race. It has been carefully designed by the best scientists and engineers Earth could offer, and now 7 brave souls are being sent out to ensure everything works perfectly.

However, when Logan wakes from cryosleep from the journey, he is informed that several things are now in need of repair, though everything had been in perfect working condition when the station had been reconstructed before he and his crew had arrived. They will have to solve the problems they’ve been left with before the station is up and running, and yet Logan can’t help but feel he’s done this before…

Relationships: Intrulogical (Remus/Logan)

Warnings: Blood, Gore, Parasites, Remus having an overactive imagination, It’s an Among Us crossover so there will be bad stuff afoot.

A/N: The ending was heavily inspired by this post, which I loved so much I had to include it!

For those of you who don’t know, this story is based off of a comic by @fangirltothefullest which I HIGHLY recommend you check them out on the link above! Their art is AMAZING.

Note to everyone before we begin; there will be graphic descriptions of gore, dismemberment, possibly torture, and any other awful things that come with the territory of writing a story in an Among Us universe.

Link to; Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

To read it on AO3 please click here.

Chapter 5: Log Entry #59

Stardate: October 17th XX20. 6:17 AM

Logan was tired. He’d lived the same six hours over fifty times now, give or take an hour or so each time, and not once had he been given a chance to rest. Though his body might have been able to handle the strain this time loop was creating due to its very nature, his mind could not. He had snapped at Remus for the first time today, had pushed him away before Remus pushed past his defences and held him close until he told him what was going on with the briefest of explanations.

Remus had become a Host to one of the parasites no more than five times, the lowest number of all the others barring himself, mostly because Logan had been with him almost all the time save for those four instances when they'd been separated, and yet, despite knowing that time had been reset, making the last run essentially non-existent, Logan still couldn’t bring himself to trust the man he loved most in the world until those arms were around him. He felt disgusted with himself for ever doing so, and the guilt still riddled him for being so frozen when it had happened that first time, but the experience took its toll.

The worst time had been when they had been forced to vent him, sending the feral creature in Remus’s form shooting into space. Logan had watched as he’d drifted slowly away, his body expanding, a small splatter of blood escaping his lips as the oxygen was pulled from his lungs, rupturing them, until he grew still. Waking up after that, despite knowing that the real Remus had been dead long before that moment, Logan had hovered over Remus as he recovered from falling out of his cryotube until, after that initial contact, he clung to his partner and sobbed into his shirt for a long time.

It was a similar situation to the one he was in now actually, sitting in Remus’s lap as the man hummed, swaying back and forth and rubbing at his back. He wanted to sleep here, to just drift off and forget all of this was happening. He needed to recharge, but he couldn't.

“I can tell them that the cryosleep messed you up,” Remus suggested softly, pressing a kiss to his hair. “We can say that you need time to recover and you can stay here and sleep.”

Logan shook his head. “But then everyone will die.”

“Sounds like we do anyway,” Remus said. It was supposed to be comforting, or at least reassuring that taking a break would be okay, but Logan couldn’t help but to flinch. “Okay, not the right thing to say, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re burning yourself out.”

“I can’t stop.”

“You have to.” Remus held his face softly in his hands. “Why don’t you go back to sleep? Rest. Recuperate. Even I know I have to stop every so often or I’ll crash worse than the Hindenburg.”

“I can’t leave you to face this alone,” Logan said, leaning into his hand.

“You’re not. You’ve told me what’s happening and where to find the information I need to prepare.”

“That’s not the same.”

“Well I’m not letting you leave this room.”

Logan scowled at his boyfriend. “They will kill you. They will pull you apart, shred you from within, vent you into space, turn you inside out-”

Remus stopped his words with his lips. Logan hated how he still couldn’t resist this, that he would still kiss him back with desperation when he knew it was a distraction, but he couldn’t resist. These moments were sometimes few and far between, and he clung to them like a man starved of affection.

“I would die for you a million times if I had to,” Remus said against his mouth as he pulled a little away, even as Logan followed him. “I can see how tired you are. Sleep.”

Logan shook his head. “I can’t. I won’t.”

“You have to, or you’ll collapse.”

“Then I’ll collapse.”

“Logan!”

He huffed. “I won’t be able to anyway. My body is well rested.”

“That’s what drugs are for,” Remus said with a roll of his eyes.

Drugs? “You mean sedatives?”

“That’s what I said.”

Even though Remus was giving him one of his many smirks, undoubtedly a little proud of himself, Logan could see the worry etched into the faint lines by his eyes and the edges of his mouth, even in the way his fingers were still holding onto his face a little harder than usual. Remus was scared for him and that was just about enough to convince him.

“Janus is in charge of the mission,” he said after deflating with a sigh. “Patton and Virgil are usually the targets of the parasites, though I haven’t been able to figure out why yet, just that they have been most frequently chosen as the hosts. Orange is usually the first victim, probably because he is the one with the most advanced knowledge of the reactor and the engines. And work with Roman when you can; I know you can be a formidable team when you get past your differences.”

Remus nodded to each point, even if he looked disappointed at not being chosen to be the new leader, and rubbed his thumb over Logan’s cheek. “You’re making the right decision.”

“The only right decision I’ve made since this started was telling you,” Logan said and turned his head to kiss Remus’s palm. “I could never regret you.”

“I love you too, Lo,” Remus said, pressing a kiss to his lips again. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“I know,” Logan replied, unable to keep his sadness from tainting his words. “You always are.”

_______________________________

Stardate: October 17th XX20. 6:00 AM

Logan woke with the rising light of the fake dawn. The sting of the needle from the sedative had vanished, and the tingle of the cryosleep still sat in his muscles. He sighed, closing his eyes as he remembered his last conscious moments and smiled to himself when he heard the familiar thump of Remus falling out of the cryotube. The sound was more comforting than he thought could be possible, especially considering Remus was getting hurt every time, but it was a confirmation that Remus was there, that even though all these horrible things were happening, he was still able to have these moments with the love of his life.

He did feel more rested now, even if not recovered completely (though he doubted there would be much that would help him recover from what he was experiencing), and he heaved his still aching body up to look down at the one that was groaning on the floor with a fond smile.

“You’re supposed to wait for your blood flow to return to normal,” he said, voice gravelly as it always was just after waking.

Remus groaned again and looked up with a squint and a blink before he rolled over and grinned up at him. “Hey, beautiful,” he said, his voice sending shivers up Logan’s spine. “Did they make a mistake at the gates of heaven, because I’m pretty sure I’m meant to be roasting with a spit up my butt right now and not looking at a beautiful angel.”

Logan grinned, blushing a little. “Are you sure I’m not some sort of demon here to trick you into Hell?”

“I’d follow you anywhere; heaven or hell” Remus said, and Logan hummed at the sound of awe the man made.

“I know you would,” Logan said, only for his smile to fall a fraction. “I’ve already led you to your death.”

Remus blinked at him again. “Huh?”

_______________________________

Stardate: October 17th XX20. 7:06 AM

“How many of those notes have you made?” Remus asked as Logan walked with him towards the storage room, having decided to start his journey there this time.

“Fifty-two,” Logan replied, waiting for the bar to finish loading while absently picking up the empty fuel container to set Orange up for refuelling later. “I have, unfortunately, been unable to make notes in some instances, though I have made up for some of those delays in future loops.”

“And you’ve relived this day…?”

“This will be my fifty-ninth time,” Logan replied, setting his tablet aside so he could fill up the container.

Remus whistled. “And you don’t even know how many times we’d gone through the loop before!”

Before? Oh, he should have thought of that. It was entirely possible that the first time he could recall living through this ‘cursed’ day (if he was using the expression correctly) was not in fact the first time he had lived it. No one else could remember after all, and he had not made any notes the first time, so there would have been no proof left behind.

“It’s getting kinda full there, Logie.”

Logan flinched and quickly turned off the tap before the container could spill. “I… had not considered that.”

“Well it kinda makes sense, doesn’t it?” Remus said, screwing the cap onto the container and pulling Logan’s hand into his. “Do you think anyone else will remember? One of the aliens maybe!”

“Please, don’t even suggest that!”

“Sorry.”

Logan took a deep breath to calm himself and banish the thought of an even more challenging experience, and nodded. “It’s possible.”

Remus hummed and gave his hand a squeeze. “Can I look at the notes?”

“Of course.” He reached for his tablet and handed it over without looking at the screen, prying his fingers away so he could go in search of the next container.

“Um, how many notes did you say you’ve made?” Remus asked, the light of the screen reflecting on the surface of his visor.

“Fifty-two,” Logan replied, finding the container behind a box. “Why?”

“Because there’s fifty-three.”

Logan paused. “... What does the last one say?”

“It doesn’t say anything,” Remus said. “It’s a video, but it says I have to access it in Communications.”

A video? “You must have made it. I was asleep all of… yesterday.”

“Should we watch it?”

“I think we all should.”

_______________________________

Stardate: October 17th XX20. 7:18 AM

“I don’t see why you couldn’t have done this earlier,” Orange said as he leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest. “We’ve only been here for fifteen minutes. I haven’t had the chance to do anything yet.”

“Fifteen minutes is plenty of time to set up a deep space communications network,” Janus chipped in. “It’s not like we’ll need it or anything.”

“I am well aware that I am causing a great frustration to all of you, but I must insist on everyone watching this,” Logan said, still searching the system for the file.

“Haven’t we got more important things to be doing?” Virgil said. “Fixing the Station, maybe?”

“This is important,” Remus said, and Logan smiled. He’d stationed himself next to him, keeping watch on their team to make sure none of them would leave without making them feel trapped.

“Why?” Roman asked, suspicious.

“Because it is.”

His skills in defending this argument needed a little work though. At least now he’d found the file, and he opened it. A video file opened on the main screen as a black box, the play button waiting to be clicked.

“What’s the video about?” Patton asked as Logan stood up from his chair to allow everyone to see.

“I don’t know,” he replied softly and, taking Remus’s hand, pressed play.

For a few seconds the screen remained blank, only a timestamp in the corner counting the seconds giving any real indication of time passing as heavy breathing could be heard.

“Twelve thirty?” Janus said, looking at the numbers. “But the system-”

Whatever the man in yellow was about to say was lost as there was some rustling and the camera was uncovered. It was the Communications room from the perspective of the screen; the lights were off, but the screen was giving off enough light to reveal the mess the room had become. They couldn’t see the floor, but they could see that the door was closed, and there were streaks of what had to be blood across the wall.

And then there was the figure. Remus’s fingers tightened in Logan’s as they watched him haul Janus’s torso from the desk to set him down on the ground, the eyes already milking over. The body left a stain on his green suit, and when he looked back at the camera, it revealed that the visor on his helmet had been broken, a chunk of it missing entirely. He huffed and quickly removed it, tossing it aside.

He looked pale, his eyes holding an edge of mania, and his entire right ear and a section of his hair was missing dripping blood down his chin, which they saw with more clarity when Remus turned his head, his eyes on where the screen must have been. He laughed.

“Oh man, they got me good,” they said with a cracking voice, and Logan noticed a few side-glances towards them, but he was more focused on how the Remus on the screen was trembling ever so slightly. “Shit. I’m not going to have time to start this again, so uh, I’m sorry you had to see... “ He looked down at where he’d just put Janus’s body and swallowed. “They’ll be here any minute. I’ll be torn to shreds for sure.”

This laugh was broken and he sounded so close to snapping. “You told me! Patton and Virgil, you said. I kept an eye on them, but then Orange…” He shook his head. “Fuck. Fuck! Why did I let him leave?”

There was a bang on the door behind him and he spun around, but quickly turned back. “Rambling. Shit. They’ll get through-- I read all your notes. All of them. You’ve been through some fucked up shit, Logie! I mean, I believed you when you told me, but when I read it… This loop is fucked up.”

There was another bang.

“Oh Re~mus!” It was Patton’s voice, still so familiar and joyful, and yet punctuated with another hit to the door. “Come out and play!”

Remus had shut his eyes, leaning against the desk. “I watched them pull Roman’s heart out of his chest,” he said, a tear dripping from his cheek. “Janus is… Well, you saw that. Orange is scattered across one of the Engine rooms and they…  they found you. They took you and they made me watch as they put you in the trash shoot and--” He cut himself off as another bang rattled the door and looked up into the camera, eyes filled with tears.

“You had to do that to me once. I don’t know how you survived. It felt like my soul was being torn out of my chest when I watched you die.” He wiped at his cheeks, wincing as he caught the torn flesh, but otherwise he didn’t seem to care. He looked down again, his face hidden by his hair. “I don’t know if this will even work, but I wanted to leave a note, like you do.” When he looked up again his face was scarily blank.

“Log Entry number fifty-three. The parasites have taken Patton and Virgil as hosts again. It was in the Medbay. They went after Janus first, as he was alone. There’s evidence they played with him before they pulled him in two.”

“Who are you talking to, Remus?” came Virgil’s voice from beyond the door. “We’re the only ones left.”

Remus stalwartly ignored them, eyes fixed on the camera. “Orange and I found the body. He left to fetch the fuel so we could try to burn whatever they are. I heard his screams when I found Virgil, or the thing he’d become, with Roman. My brother had been pinned to the wall by its tentacles, and it ripped his heart out as he begged for mercy.”

Another thud, this one louder than the others before it, and Remus flinched.

“They must have run out of energy or something, because they only captured me and dragged me into Storage. The Thing with Patton’s face had dragged your body off the shuttle. You were still asleep when they stuffed you in the trash shoot. I… I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I must have screamed myself hoarse.”

He looked over his shoulder as the metal of the door groaned with the next hit, then turned quickly back.

“I somehow managed to escape, though not before they did this.” He motioned to his missing ear. “I ran everywhere. I think I must have slipped in Orange’s blood when I found what was left of him in that Engine room, because I left footprints. This is the first room I could find without vents. You mentioned vents a lot.”

The door groaned again and bent a little behind Remus, but he didn’t look this time. He just smiled.

“I wish I could have done more. I wish I could have saved you, but… I know I’ll see you again. I’ll wake up and fall out of the cryotube and I’ll make you pesto pasta for breakfast just to try to make you smile. You’ll tell me about this fucking time loop and I’ll believe you, because I know you. I know you would never lie to me about this. And I will tell you I love you. I’ll tell you that you mean more to me than life itself. I’ll-”

The door behind him tore open, the metal shredding like cardboard, and the figures of Virgil and Patton stepped through. Remus tried desperately to reach something on the desk but he was pulled away by Patton, who had barely moved, before he was given the chance. Remus’s helmet flew at Patton before Janus’s followed, and the wheely chair started to move across the screen as Remus yelled profanities at the creatures.

Virgil and Patton, meanwhile, had begun to unfurl, their tentacles escaping and their bodies splitting into gaping maws.

“Now that wasn’t very nice,” Not-Patton said as he pulled a struggling Remus up into the air by his foot, even as he continued to try and fight. A second, third and fourth tentacle stretched out to hold him still, and still he struggled.

“Fuck you! Fuck both of you! You dickasses both deserve to-” Remus’s shouts became muffled as Not-Virgil covered his mouth and gave the struggling man a considering look.

“You know, you’ve always been so fond of medieval torture,” it said. “Why don’t we try that, what was it? Ah yes, being hung, drawn and quartered.”

“That sounds like fun!” Not-Patton said. “Let’s do it in the cafeteria. The tables are better there.”

Not-Virgil nodded with a double grin and helped drag the screaming Remus from the room.

It took Logan a few seconds to remember how to breathe, staring at the screen as the silence around him threatened to engulf him, but then Remus pulled him closer and gave him the best hug he could while they were still in their suits. Logan clutched back at him, turning away from the screen as Remus continued to stare at it over his shoulder, and his entire body flinched when his own agonised screams came from the speakers.

“So-someone turn it off,” Remus said, shaken but still standing strong somehow.

There was some shuffling and the screams suddenly cut off, making the silence somehow even more unbearable. Remus gave Logan another squeeze.

“That… that can’t be real,” Virgil said after a few more moments, the edges of panic staining his words. “I’m not… Patton and I…”

“Remus?” Roman said, and Logan pulled away from his partner enough so they could both turn towards the rest.

They were all in various states of shock or disbelief; Patton had tears streaming down his cheeks, Virgil was clutching at his body, Janus looked to be trying to figure out if it had been an elaborate joke or not, and Roman looked blank. Orange, however, was the only one to look somewhat angry, which Logan thought was fair considering the circumstances.

“It’s real,” Remus said, his eyes still on the screen as he spoke but they landed on his brother soon after. “Everything I… he said is true.”

“You can’t expect me to believe that,” Orange said with a snort. “It’s very clever though. Did you set it up before we left Earth?”

“He can’t have.” Janus said hesitantly. “The plans for the Station were kept confidential, to be released to the public after we’d already left, and no one else would have helped him gain access.”

Orange frowned. “That… That can’t be right. If it was then…”

“Is everybody okay?” Patton asked beyond the tears.

“Oh yes,” Janus drawled. “I absolutely love watching one of my best friends get dragged away to be tortured and killed. It hasn’t affected me at all. Especially not the part where he had to drag my own lifeless body away from the camera.”

“... Yeah, me too,” Patton said softly, and he leaned into the hand Roman had set on his shoulder. “How is this possible?”

“Remus was talking to Logan in the video,” Roman pointed out.

“I don’t know,” Logan said. “I… I haven’t been able to find an answer. There must be some sort of… rift or something. A black hole near our orbit that’s distorting the flow of time. There is so much we don’t know about them after all, and it’s possible, but I haven’t seen any that would be close enough to cause any real changes to the environment. Perhaps it’s the parasites themselves, but that doesn’t make any sense or they would remember as well, and that hasn’t happened. Not yet at least, and I hope it never does.”

“It won’t,” Remus said, and Logan graced him with a brief smile.

“Believe us or not, this is still a problem,” he continued. “The parasites only take a host after 9:30am, though I cannot tell you the exact time as it changes depending on a variety of variables, but it is always near the Medbay or the Reactor. I suspect they might be found in the vents but I cannot be certain.”

“Oh. Great,” Virgil said, Orange having to step to his side to guide him into the chair, He immediately ducked his head between his knees and Logan could hear him trying to control his breathing. Patton was at his side a moment later to hold his hand and help guide him through his breathing techniques.

“Perhaps we should have a codeword!” Roman suggested with forced charm. “Something to say to each other so we know if anyone’s… you know.”

Logan shook his head. “It wouldn’t work. The parasite essentially becomes us once it’s in our system. The host knows that it’s a host, that it was once human, they just don’t care anymore.”

“And how would you know that?” Janus asked.

“I’ve… been one, once,” Logan replied quietly, looking away as Remus’s hand squeezed him in comfort. It was really a miracle that he hadn't been caught again, and it had been a close call on a few occasions, but somehow that first time had remained the only time.

“What do you propose we do then?” Orange asked.

“We stick together, get through as many tasks as we can to get the Station back to full operation before the creatures emerge, and find a way to get them off the Station.”

_______________________________

Stardate: October 17th XX20. 10:35 AM

There had been no sign of the aliens. It had been an hour since they should have appeared, and yet there had been nothing but a growing sense of dread and, in Orange's case, annoyance. It was becoming increasingly clear that the engineer was growing impatient, and that his belief in the credibility of the video was tenuous at best. The further notes on what Logan had been able to assess from his observation of the creatures had not helped either, though the others had been enough to keep him satisfied for a time. However, it seemed that his patience had finally run its course.

"Look, you guys can all huddle together like scared little bunnies," he said, as they waited for Virgil to finish sorting out the medical supplies, "but we have a job to do, and we can't do it if we're doing everything one bit at a time!"

"Kiddo, we're trying to-" Patton started, but Orange huffed and started walking towards the door.

"Spare me," he spat. "I'll be in the engine rooms if anyone needs me, doing my job."

With that he stormed out of the Medbay, heading out of sight around the corner. Logan, who had been taking notes about their situation on his pad on the bed nearest the door, looked after him and didn't even blink when the door shut immediately after. He wouldn't have been able to reach him in time either way. He turned back around and gave Remus a look.

"That… that was you, right, Sherlock?" Roman asked as his brother heaved the mattress he'd been lying on off the bed frame. The lights went out a moment later and Patton squeaked in alarm as the room plunged into a pitch darkness.

"No," Logan replied, glancing up at the fading glow in the bulbs. "No it wasn't." He turned back to his pad and started to hack into the door to open it again.

The mattress hit the floor.

"Shit, where's the vent?" Remus cursed, and Logan could hear him dragging the mattress around.

"Over here." Janus.

"Get away from it," Remus growled, even as he dragged the mattress closer.

"Be careful," Patton said from next to Virgil, the two of whom were the only people visible thanks to the faint light of the isolated test lab.

Remus grunted and, after some sounds of shuffling, the mattress flopped down heavily again, this time with a slight echo.

"Got it," Remus said after a little more shuffling. "How are the doors, Lo?"

Logan tapped a few more keys and had the door ready to open. "I'll open it when you get here. We don't know if they're waiting for us out there."

"You mean Orange might be-?" Roman asked, but couldn't bring himself to finish.

"I believe it is all but certain," Logan confirmed, and he heard someone -- probably Patton or Virgil -- whimper.

There was some more shuffling and Logan turned his screen around to shed some light on the room. From the shadows cast and the sight his suit could offer him, he could just about see Roman coming slowly closer, his arms outstretched so he wouldn't go into anything. Janus, Remus, Patton and Virgil were all clustered as a group, Remus keeping his hand on Janus's shoulder as he glanced back at where the mattress (and therefore the vent) must have been while Virgil seemed to twitch at every sound.

Once everyone had reached him Logan slid off the bed and joined the cluster. "Let's go."

_______________________________

Stardate: October 17th XX20. 10:52 AM

Walking around so close together was not only cumbersome but also a little claustrophobic. Logan could hear every breath, every footstep, feel each unexpected touch and each slide of shoes against his own. Patton and Roman would occasionally whisper the breathing exercises to Virgil to keep him from panicking too much, but otherwise it was a slow walk in near silence.

They had walked through both engine rooms on their journey to Electrical, and while it was dark, there had been no sound of Orange on the entire journey. It was all but certain that he was now a Host. Now, however, they had all stopped to look into the ominous darkness of the room before.

"This doesn't feel like a trap at all," Janus said.

"Do you think Orange might be in there?" Patton asked.

"Either that, or the second parasite is lying in wait," Logan replied, squeezing Remus's hand. "Either way, something has to be in there."

"So someone's either going to end up becoming a big tentacle monster with a mouth that tears their body in two, or they're going to end up as a kebab," Remus said with a nod. "I think I'd prefer kebab myself."

"I would prefer it if neither situation happened," Roman said, Virgil making a noise of agreement.

There were a few seconds where nothing happened, but then Logan sighed and released Remus's hand to step forward; or at least he tried to.

"What are you doing?" he asked, Remus's hold having only grown stronger.

"I'm not letting you go in there alone."

"Who said I was doing that?"

"You did." Remus caught his shoulder and turned in to face him. "You're never silent in group projects."

Logan clenched his jaw. "You know me too well."

"You know me better," Remus said with a slow grin.

Logan huffed in annoyance but turned back to the others. "The fuse box is at the back, next to a vent," he said. "If we stick together and keep an eye on it then we should be able to get through this easily enough."

"And if Orange is in there?" Virgil asked.

Logan shared a look with Remus (as much as he could in the almost complete darkness anyway). "We will have to… take action."

"... Oh," Virgil said, sounding a little queasy.

In a way Logan envied their naivety. He envied their ability to hope for a better solution, their expectations of getting out of this alive, but his own experiences had worn that away. He had always been defined by the truths and facts that had become his life, but now even that was being worn away, and he knew he was becoming more jaded in each loop.

"Let's get this over with," Roman said, bringing Logan out from his thoughts.

The scientist nodded and pulled Remus after him into Electrical. "The fuse  box is just around-"

The door slammed shut, cutting the couple off from everyone else.

“-... the corner.”

Remus stepped closer as a few bangs came from the door. “We’re dead, aren’t we.”

Logan swallowed. “Yes.”

Remus hummed. “These aliens; they take on our memories when they take us for a host?”

“I… yes, that’s right.”

“And we just want to kill everyone in sight.”

“Yes,” Logan replied, trying to block out the noises that were coming from outside the door. He needed all of his senses if he was going to get them both through this, though every calculation he was making was only leading them towards one bloody and awful end. “You’re just… angry, and there’s this hunger, and you crave it. Nothing from before matters. You simply loath humanity.”

Remus hummed again, and they both froze when they saw something moving in the dark. Logan was so focused on it that he barely registered the click-hiss that came from beside him, from Remus, and he only understood that he had removed his helmet when he was shoved back into the wall behind them.

“No!”

He could see it happening, the lights of the Medbay blinding in his memory as Remus threw himself forwards, but this time he would not be frozen. There was shouting coming from the other side of the door as he pushed himself off the wall, chasing Remus into the dark, but when the love of his stopped short and Logan crashed into his back, he knew he was too late.

“Remus,” he breathed, catching him as his knees gave out and holding him close as he choked on his own blood. “Oh God, what did you do?”

Remus grinned. “Saved… you.”

There was no time to argue, and the smile fell quickly to a cough as the parasite ravaged his body, making its home inside him. “Yes. You saved me, Remus,” he said, all but tearing his own helmet from his head. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

He kissed Remus’s blood spattered lips and carded his fingers through his hair as the door opened, ten seconds too late.

“L-Love… yo-you,” Remus stuttered, only to choke, his body stiffening as the shaking began.

“I love you too,” Logan said, vaguely aware that the others were talking, that someone was moving, and a second later the lights were on again.

There were tears streaming down Remus’s cheeks, and tears running down his own. He could see the patches of red where the parasite was chewing away at Remus’s body, seeping into the fibres of the suit, and Remus struggled with himself until he roared in pain. Logan watched as it clouded his eyes, his gaze only briefly leaving his partner’s when Roman tried to come to their side, but was mercifully held back by Virgil and Patton.

“It’s okay,” he muttered as Remus’s body slowly went limp in his arms. “I love you, Remus. I love you. It’s going to be okay.”

The dark threads he had seen before started to seep from each blood-soaked spot, crawling out to start encompassing Remus’s body, and he choked on a sob, holding Remus closer. All too soon the body was completely encompassed, and the shape in his arms congealed with the pressure he was exerting with his arms. Someone tried to pull him away but he shook them off.

“I’ll distract him,” he said, though the tears threatened to choke him.

“Logan-”

“Go!”

There was only a brief hesitation before they left. He tried not to think of the anguish in Roman’s eyes.

As the mass in his arms solidified back into the shape of his lover, his strands of hair growing back between Logan’s fingers, he looked into those eyes that he had grown to love and saw the brief flash of recognition.

“Logan…” Remus said, the pain gone but the fear he had seen before still hanging onto its last threads, but then even that was snuffed out, and all that was left was a growing hunger. The grin that stretched Remus’s lips grew inhumanly wide as sharp tendrils extended out from him to puncture Logan in every way possible. He gasped as he clung to Remus’s form, vowing to never let this happen again.

“You smell delicious.”

_______________________________

Stardate: October 17th XX20. 6:00 AM

Logan woke with wet cheeks. The light of the cyrodeck had never felt so cold.

[rivalsforlife]

one more ahaha but the cherry blossom scene at the end of catch up game ch 3 because i'm still thinking nonstop about it all the time 👀👉👈

ABSOLUTELY I CAN also for anyone reading this go look at Mika’s art which inspired this scene. It’s the tumblr version so you can reblog it too, which you should do, even if you don’t read my long rambling,

okay once again rambling below...

Traditionally, Larry Butz arrived at any social gathering anywhere from half an hour to three hours later than the time he was told, so all things considered, he was actually early. Phoenix wasted no time informing him of the latest betrayal among their small elementary school friend group.

this is a direct callout to one of my friends from high school, where we started seriously considering telling her that any social event we were planning started an hour earlier than it actually did so that she’d make it there on time. We never did in case this turned out to be the time she actually made it on time, but still.

“Larry, remember that one time we were trying to make that gigantic hopscotch game, and we ran out of chalk?” He pointed an accusatory finger at Edgeworth, who sighed. “It turns out, Edgeworth hid it all along!”

Larry blinked, then shrugged. “Oh yeah, right, that. Well, I kind of had an idea…”

“Wh — You hid this from me too?! D-Death! The death penalty for the both of you!”

“Why does this all sound so familiar,” Edgeworth commented under his breath.

I think this part is mostly there so Larry actually does something because I couldn’t find any real way to fit him into this fic...? Anyways the dialogue there with Phoenix threatening the death penalty on Miles and Larry is pretty much directly lifted from the end of Turnabout Goodbyes, which is why Miles comments on it sounding familiar. 

They continued on in that vein for some time, dredging up old elementary school memories. Phoenix proclaimed to be the only innocent member of that group, before Edgeworth brought up a set of very nice gel pens Phoenix reportedly stole from him. Phoenix and Edgeworth got caught up in their argument, and barely even noticed when Larry wandered away, joining Maggey and Gumshoe at the fishing pond while Franziska critiqued them.

This sort of familiar banter was normal. As Edgeworth teased in that same way he had ever since Phoenix first faced him in court, he had to wonder if he’d just imagined the way Edgeworth had been looking at him during the party. Maybe everything was fine, after all.

Not pictured: Phoenix and Miles leaning in closer to each other as they argue. too close. Larry tries to comment but neither of them hear him. Eventually he just walks away because he’s sick of third-wheeling with these two. It’s my firm belief that if there weren’t the court benches in the way that they need to slam, these two would slowly walk closer and closer to each other as they argue because they. uh. want to “intimidate” each other. that’s why they’re nose to nose like that. the whole courtroom is suddenly very uncomfortable.

Haha anyways also I think these two would pick the dumbest things to argue about all the time? Never seriously arguing, the just like bickering because they don’t know how to hold conversations about their feelings.

“You still haven’t explained exactly what happened to my gel pen set,” Edgeworth accused, as they circled around the argument for the third time.

Phoenix threw his hands up in the air. “I just forgot to return it! I didn’t know you were so bothered by it. You should have brought it up!”

“Back then? You were so sensitive. If I brought up that you might have upset me in the least, you would have burst into tears.”

“I wasn’t that sensitive.”

Edgeworth sighed. “Wright, you cried when I got a question wrong on a spelling test, because you thought I would be sad about it.”

“And you were!” Phoenix retorted. “You cried for like an hour!”

“Because when you started crying, I thought it was something I had to be ashamed of!”

More bickering, pretty much! Also I do think Phoenix cried A Lot and was super sensitive up until the whole Dahlia trial which traumatized him pretty badly... 

Anyways the REAL story behind this incident which I am making up just now is probably that Miles was on the verge of crying because of Getting Something Wrong -- which I totally get, I absolutely almost cried over spelling tests as a baby -- and Phoenix picked up on this and realized his best friend was sad and started crying, which made Miles start to fully cry, and it just became a mess.

Meanwhile Larry with the 3/10 on his spelling test was just like “I don’t get what you guys are so upset about a 9/10 is great” which just makes them cry even more.

(Then Gregory probably found out about this incident and sat Miles down and gave him a speech about “everyone makes mistakes and it’s okay to not be perfect all the time, this is a learning opportunity and it shows you what you need to work on!”

:)

That sentiment didn’t last very long.)

Wow I’m getting off topic, moving on --

Phoenix crossed his arms. “I remember this whole thing very differently than you do. You cried first.”

“I never cried in fourth grade.”

Phoenix leaned in and whispered into his ear, “Origami.”

“Do not bring that up!” Edgeworth hissed as Phoenix reared back, laughing.

I don’t know if you need to lean in super close and whisper that in his ear though Phoenix, that might be a bit unnecessary. Miles got lucky here in that his Eternal Shame over not being able to fold an origami crane in fourth grade overrode whatever reaction he undoubtedly would have had about Phoenix’s face being very close to his face.

Anyways this banter is here in the fic mostly because I really wanted to show them being all comfortable and happy with each other. That was a major thing I wanted to push as much as possible in these earlier chapters, that they do care about each other a lot even before we enter the more outright romantic territory.

“Regardless, I am certain you took my gel pen set, so don’t try to blame faulty memory on that one. I bet you carelessly used them all up, didn’t you?”

“Hardly! I wouldn’t even touch it after you left. It reminded me of you.”

Some of the fight left Edgeworth’s stance. “Really?”

“Well… yeah.” He wasn’t sure why the admission suddenly felt like a confession of an entirely different sort.

aw man Phoenix you brought feelings into your banter NOW what are you going to do.

I’m preeetty sure I have books that I lent to my friends in fourth grade that they never gave back so it’s of course not an inherently romantic thing, they probably just forgot it was mine and obviously aren’t going to bring it back now ten years later, but for Phoenix in this case it was probably more like “I borrowed these gel pens from Miles and then keep forgetting to give them back but was going to after winter break, and then he left, so I need to hold onto them until he comes back”. Miles was taken from his life so suddenly it probably had a huge effect on him, especially since he had few friends at the time and Miles made such a big impact on him.

The two of them sat underneath the tree in a sudden, serene quiet. They’d both discarded their suit jackets at some point, down to their dress shirts and waistcoats. Phoenix pretended not to notice the way Edgeworth’s eyes darted across the line of his shoulders and lingered longer than they should have.

I don’t ever really pay much attention to what people are wearing or what they look like at any particular time when I’m writing, but in this case I took extra care to make sure they were in the same outfits as in the art that inspired this!

Maybe I’ll ramble a bit more about that! Pretty much the “theme” of narumitsu week this year was “cherry blossoms”, so I wanted to find some way to incorporate them into this fic somewhere somehow. I decided to have that as a focus on Free Day because I enjoy having structure and wasn’t sure what to have for the day.

Some of this scene, mainly the picnic, is inspired by that one official art here. The first iteration of this chapter had everyone in it (with the obvious exceptions of Diego and Mia) but then I took out Maya and Pearl for reasons I explained when I was talking about the scene in chapter 6 where I decided to cut a lot of Maya’s scenes out of this fic... even though I love her a lot.

And of course when I thought about cherry blossoms and narumitsu I thought about Mika’s art, yes I am linking it again, which I believe she posted about a month or so before I started planning and I was Thinking About It Constantly. It’s gorgeous and since there was the perfect opportunity to use it here I just couldn’t resist and here we are.

Back to the paragraph: Miles attempted to subtly check Phoenix out. It was not subtle.

“Do you still have those gel pens?” Edgeworth asked, softer. “I think you owe me them, after everything.”

“Oh, shut up,” said Phoenix, but it was difficult to have a heated argument right now, for some unknown reason. “If I still have them, they’re in a box somewhere. Plus, they ought to have dried up by now.”

“I doubt it.” A faint smile was beginning to crawl on Edgeworth’s face. “Those gel pens were state of the art.”

“Sure they were,” Phoenix dismissed. “And, what, you’re going to use them? Sign your fancy prosecutor documents in bright pink?”

“What makes you think I don’t do that already?”

“You wouldn’t — oh, wait, of course you’d have customized ink in the same colour as your entire wardrobe, who am I even talking to…”

“Mhm.” Edgeworth brushed his bangs from his eyes, a motion that Phoenix’s brain decided to fixate on for some reason. “But really, you went to all the trouble of keeping the set, and you never used any of them?”

(Miles voice) “oh so you kept something as trivial as that for so long because they reminded you of me? Tell me more. Why do you want a reminder of me. What exactly do you think of me, Wright,”

hm pretty much as soon as Phoenix brought Feelings into this conversation the atmosphere kind of changed and you can now imagine Miles staring with the most adoring expression at Phoenix while Phoenix is ignoring this with such intensity that it doesn’t even show up in his narration. But he also watches the way Miles brushes his bangs from his eyes, so he’s not much better.

And thinking about it now this scene really went on for too long about gel pens hahaha... 

“Objection!” Phoenix declared. “I used the blue one to write you letters at first.”

“Ah, of course you did. I never got any of those… How many did you send?”

“I don’t even want to know…”

Edgeworth hummed and looked off into the distance, where Gumshoe was demonstrating how to cast a line. “Your level of dedication is something else,” he said, as if to himself.

“Well, yeah. You were my only non-Larry friend. You were…” Phoenix swallowed. “You were important to me, you know? You saved me.”

“You keep bringing that up. You’ve more than returned the favor, you know that, don’t you?”

“I’m inclined to disagree.”

I don’t have a consistent headcanon about whether Miles got or read the letters, in this fic presumably von Karma intercepted them and got rid of them... and then presumably Miles ignored any that were sent to him as an adult.

Also these two are going to have ridiculous arguments about who saved who until they’re on their deathbeds, I’m sure.

Edgeworth turned back towards him as if to retort, but stopped halfway, his eyes widening slightly as he stared at Phoenix.

“... Something on my face?” Phoenix asked, trying to quell the feeling of some sort of anxiety that bubbled up when Edgeworth stared at him like that.

insert mikacherryblossomart.png

Miles turns away for one second and then suddenly oh no he’s even more gorgeous now

Edgeworth was silent for some time. Then, very softly, he said, “You have cherry blossom petals in your hair.”

“What? Do I?” He reached a hand up to brush them out, but Edgeworth stopped him by grabbing his wrist, freezing Phoenix.

“With your hair, you’ll never get them out like that.” With his spare hand, Edgeworth began to pick each individual petal from his hair. “You look so — silly, Wright.”

Partially a callback to the beginning of chapter 3, when they were kids:

“Y-Your hair,” Miles managed to say through stifled laughter. “One of the flowers fell into it.”

Phoenix hands shot up into his hair. “Really?”

“You look so silly, Phoenix.” When Phoenix failed to find the flower, Miles reached out. “Here, let me.” 

 Phoenix remained still as Miles reached up to the top of his head and picked the flower out of his hair. “Your hair’s really soft,” Miles said quietly, before handing it over to Phoenix. “Here you go.”

because Miles apparently remembered that it was difficult for Phoenix to get the petals from his hair the first time, and also, wanted an excuse to touch Phoenix’s hair again.

But also the dialogue and interactions are ONCE AGAIN INSPIRED BY MIKA based on this reply to my reply to the art on twitter. look at that you can go and retweet the art on twitter too!

Overall this gives us an accurate Thoughts to Speech translator for Miles:

Miles: You have cherry blossom petals in your hair and it is going to kill me.

Phoenix: What? Do I?

Miles: No, wait, don’t brush them out, I want to touch your hair because it is soft and this is the perfect excuse. You look so captivating.

if Miles had said that out loud though it would probably have killed both of them.

Phoenix let out an awkward, low laugh, starting somewhere deep within his chest. “R-Really.”

“Mhm.”

Edgeworth’s eyes locked with Phoenix’s, and time seemed to freeze. There was a sudden thrum of tension in the air, as if Phoenix were in a play and he’d suddenly forgotten his lines, forgotten he was supposed to be in a play at all.

(chanting) “kiss kiss kiSS KISS KISS --”

But before either of them could break the sudden spell over them, a fishing hook whirred through the air, and —

“Ack, I — I think I got it stuck!”

but of course that needs to be interrupted at the worst possible time because this is fanfiction and this is how things work!

“In the tree?! How did you even manage to get it that far?”

“Don’t worry about it, Maggey, I can climb up the tree and get it unstuck, just hang on —”

“No, no, if I just give it a big yank—”

“Maggey—!”

I broke the first rule of writing dialogue because I can’t really remember who’s supposed to be saying what. I think that Maya had a few lines here and then I didn’t change them since there were no dialogue tags...

Pretty much -- Maggey with her eternal luck tried to fish but released the line too early as she was swinging back so the line went back and got caught in the tree branches directly above Phoenix and Miles.

I think the dialogue progression goes Maggey -> Originally Maya but now either Larry or Franziska -> Gumshoe -> Maggey -> everyone going MAGGEY NO!!!

I remember going fishing with my grandpa once a long time ago and either I or my brother did get the fishing line stuck in a tree. would not recommend.

The branch above Phoenix and Edgeworth jostled, and pink petals burst all around them, fluttering down and catching in their hair and on their clothes. One petal even fell behind Edgeworth’s glasses.

They stared at each other for a moment, stunned, Edgeworth’s hand still loosely wrapped around Phoenix’s wrist, as Maggey shouted apologies from the distance.

There are no cherry blossom trees where I live so I have no idea if we’re even in the right season for this or if cherry blossom trees even behave this way - but I’m basing it off of... you know when it’s that point in fall where if you shake a tree branch leaves will just scatter everywhere? That. 

Also RIP to the other four who were just having a grand old time fishing and then turn around seeing these two sitting really close to each other almost holding hands about two seconds away from a kiss... which they’d just interrupted...

And then — the most incredible thing happened, and Edgeworth began to laugh.

Phoenix could have catalogued all the laughs he heard from Edgeworth: the usual, short laughs often mistaken for a scoff by those who didn’t know him as well as Phoenix did; the triumphant, smug, courtroom laughs when he thought he had Phoenix cornered; to the quiet, restrained ones in private that were more of a hum than anything else. This laugh was new.

This was a full-on fit of laughter bubbling deep in his chest and spilling from his mouth, which Edgeworth quickly covered with his free hand, with the additional bonus of covering his reddening face. It wasn’t something hidden or faked or triumphant, it was genuine, and open, and Phoenix could swear it was one of the most beautiful sounds he ever heard.

Miles here is going through an emotional rollercoaster having been two seconds away from finally kissing the love of his life only to be interrupted at the worst possible time, which is just so on brand for the two of them that he can’t help but start laughing hysterically. Plus Phoenix probably looks absolutely shocked suddenly covered in petals, which doesn’t help.

Then the next two paragraphs are brought on by Phoenix Pining and also me wanting Miles Edgeworth to laugh more... 

From my notes for this scene:

They stare at each other for a moment and laugh, and Miles’ laugh just utterly captivates Phoenix and makes him fall so completely in love immediately and oh no he is screwed he is utterly screwed.

So pretty much I had to encapsulate the “falling so completely in love immediately” part which I decided to do by focusing on Miles laughing. I wanted to draw a lot of attention to that which is why there are so many paragraphs dedicated to Miles laughing and Phoenix thinking about Miles laughing.

Trucy’s laughter always made the world feel a little brighter, and made Phoenix feel stronger. Edgeworth’s laugh did the opposite; it dislodged something inside of him, it weakened him, it made the whole world go soft and fuzzy around him. Instead of illuminating all the good in the world, it turned Phoenix’s world into one person.

More focus on Miles’ laughter but also... kind of drawing attention to Phoenix’s reaction to this being different from his reaction to other people he cares about laughing? Because feeling warm and happy when seeing someone you care about non-romantically laugh is normal, but then I wanted to make it clear that this is a different sort of feeling for Phoenix. 

Also Phoenix has to realize this is a different sort of feeling for him because otherwise he could brush it off like he’s probably dismissed all of his romantic feelings throughout the years as “oh I’m just glad my friend is happy, and I rarely ever hear Edgeworth laugh so him being relaxed enough to laugh like that makes me feel happy too,” but it’s not what he’d expect if he just sees Miles as a friend. And it’s described as weakening in the paragraph because right now the subject of his romantic feelings for Miles isn’t something that Phoenix can fully or easily accept right now (as chapter 5 would indicate).

Edgeworth’s fit of laughter subsided, and he shifted his hand so he could look at Phoenix again, the hints of a shy grin peeking out between his fingers, his hair and his shirt and his face adorned with a sweet, gentle pink. It was like looking at an entirely different person — or, no, the same person, but with all armor off, all guards lowered.

Miles is very embarrassed right now but kind of... in a good way...? Like again, almost kissed the love of his life then rudely interrupted at the last possible moment, plus Phoenix’s whole reaction to the thing gave Miles the impression that Phoenix wanted to kiss him as well, so he’s feeling a little giddy. Plus he was just laughing a lot when he normally doesn’t do that. Overall he’s not used to expressing his emotions so he’s embarrassed and a little shy about it...

The part about Miles’ “hair and shirt and face adorned with a sweet, gentle pink” refers to both the cherry blossom petals (in his hair and clinging to his shirt and a bit on his face) and also him blushing quite a bit.

It all feels a little out of character honestly haha because Miles isn’t really the type to be blushing hardcore like this and be a little shy, buuut in this case I let myself get away with it because he’s dealing with romantic feelings he hasn’t ever dealt with at this level before, and it’s also out of character just enough to really strike Phoenix in the heart. You can just imagine him staring at Miles with the most lovestruck expression on his face because he hasn’t seen this side of Miles before and he loves it.

Phoenix’s heart stuttered in his chest, and may have stopped entirely.

He was screwed.

He was completely and utterly screwed.

And even Phoenix can’t deny that he’s super in love at this point. 

I think I wrote this part, changed the words “screwed” to “doomed” right before posting, and then switched it back again for no particular reason. The Vibe just felt a little off but oh well.

Then the next chapter skips over the rest of this picnic but honestly Phoenix’s brain skipped over the rest of this picnic as well. Imagine the two of them just kind of standing around in a lovestruck daze for a while. I think Franziska had to physically drag Miles out of there. no one knows how Phoenix got home, not even Phoenix and least of all me!

But thank you Mika for requesting this!! And for drawing such incredible art for me to base the chapter around haha!!!

[indipindy16]

Heyyyyy, so about that doc with the AU ideas.... (Please feed me I yearn for content)

im obsessed with the idea of monoma and aizawa being related to afo lol. you only see like 3 quirks in the whole series that are based on other quirks - what i would call ‘meta quirks,’ that would only have any function in a world of quirked people. so ofc these 3 quirks have to be related:

afo decided to have a bunch of kids, to see if he could make noumus out of them which retained their brains after being given a bunch of quirks. he impregnated a bunch of women lol, but he kept tabs on them. as soon as the kids turned 4 and presented their quirk, they would be kidnapped by the doctor and brought into the lab. most of the kids had quirks based on quirks (seeing quirks, stealing quirks, copying quirks, erasing quirks…) and are various ages. aizawa, monoma and midoriya were some of them, but aizawa got saved by his badass mother when he was still a kid, so he was already gone by the time midoriya and monoma came around. the two of them manage to escape while afo is still recovering from his fight with all might, and since monoma’s mother was killed by afo, he goes to live with midoriya and his mother. they go off the grid and run away from afo. in this au midoriya is quirkless, up until he meets all might and it goes as usual. umm could be from monoma’s pov, and include monoshin because that’s cute. basically after the sports festival, afo finds monoma again and in the summer camp they kidnap him instead of bakugou. (the reason why aizawa was never caught or taken back by afo is because he won the whole sports fest and became too famous/well protected to be easily stolen back - since monoma didn’t make the fight rounds, he’s a perfect target. afo only knew the kids by their quirks, he never actually met them, so he doesn’t realise that midoriya is one of his kids as well because mido has a quirk now.) anyway so after they kidnap monoma back, he and midoriya spill the beans to the ua faculty, aizawa has a midlife crisis over the fact that he now has younger siblings, and afo continues to be a dick who doesn’t pay child support.

just some sweets stuff as well:

Christmas cake: Japanese slang for an unmarried woman over 25 who is considered undesirable as a wife, in the same way that Christmas cakes are considered useless after Christmas Day.

Good thing for Jirou, she never cared much about being ‘desirable’ to the opposite sex anyway.

-> a momojirou story about jirou’s 26th birthday and momo reassuring her that she is the best gf ever, and that she loves her very much. pro hero gfs <3

*

like. the trope of aizawa adopting shinsou? well what about instead… hawks adopting tokoyami?? maybe he comes from a super religious family and they tried to exorcise the ‘demon’ from him, protective services put him in the foster system, and he ends up with really shitty foster families, and his quirk is considered ‘dangerous.’ but then our boy hawks swoops in and goes ‘u know what? i’m not letting my intern get disrespected like this’ and adopts him. obviously hawks is still young himself (22 i think), so he’s not very good at the whole parenting thing, but miruko helps him out. he becomes an older brother figure for tokoyami. gen found family fluff ensues

*

bEST JEANIST AS A TEENAGE FASHION ICON

thats it, thats the idea

*

HAIKYUU AU - no quirks. just volleyball

so the ua boys volleyball team is on the rocks. its been pretty much non-existent and turned to dust at this point. but, it once own the nationals.

izuku’s mum runs this second hand / antique / trinket store, and izuku helps out sometimes. one day, he finds some old sports tapes in the back and watches them - they’re of the year when ua was at nationals, and their striker, yagi toshinori, inspires izuku to play volleyball.

bakugo is on the school team and he threatens / bullies izuku not to join, so izuku has to train on his own. he learns shitty technique, but he ends up building some muscle by clearing out the beach.

izuku gets into ua, and when he goes to apply for the volleyball team, ofc bakugo picks a fight. the other first-years who join the team are todoroki, kaminari, shinsou, kirishima, and iida. there aren’t any second years - they all got expelled - but mirio and tamaki are on the team as third years, and nejirou is the team manager. their teacher sponsor is a new teacher this year, and it’s left ambiguous. there’s the whole ‘get over ur differences if u want to join’ thing, and then woohoo! team!

turns out their teacher sponsor is aizawa. he drags in the now-retired-due-to-injury yagi toshinori to be the coach. when aizawa went to ua, the volleyball team was too small to go to any tournaments - he’s determined to turn it around and let these kids live their dreams.

some ‘canon? what’s that?’ ideas:

just a really wholesome story about inko and mitsuki being besties. met in middle school or something, supported each other through everything… just gals being the best of pals...

or i mean u could make it gay, that’s always an option (and have izuku and katsuki grow up as actual bros, and actually be friendly to one another? what a shocker) - like, the two of them get sperm donors and are pregnant at the same time so the kids can be twins or something. and ofc you’d expect katsuki to be closest to mitsuki and for inko to be closest to izuku, but then to make it a TWIST add some great bonding between inko + katsuki and mitsuki + izuku!! i’ve never really seen any mitsuki + izuku bonding in stories before, so that’d be pretty cool

*

izuku gets hit by a villain’s quirk during a big villain attack when he’s 7, turning him part-cat. the villain dies during the attack, so they can’t erase his quirk’s effects - they’d have to surgically remove the ears and tail, or get an expensive quirk specialist in. izuku decides he likes being a nekomimi, so he keeps them and gets being part-cat officially registered as his quirk. he has better senses and agility, and he can talk to cats now i guess. also his eyes are cat eyes. he doesn’t pass the ua exam, so he goes into the general department instead, but he does really well in the sports festival and gets transferred into the hero course with shinsou. (this is all just because i need a valid excuse to make izuku have cat ears.)

some ‘future au’ ideas:

all of the pro heroes merch lines - deku’s ’t-shirt’ shirts, tokoyami’s edgy emo/goth hoodies, iida’s ingenium trainers, bakugou’s popping candy chocolate, todoroki’s own brand of scar cream, HAGAKURE’S CAMO COLLECTION OMG the possibilities are endless  

---i made hagakure’s camo for her bday drawing

(i use a strikethrough so i know which ideas i’ve used or posted anywhere. i think that once i put an idea on the internet, it’s probably free reign, so if you want to use any of these for fics or art go ahead. i’d just appreciate it is you could link back to me haha)

5 years after graduating from the General Studies department of UA, Hitoshi opened his own agency. As a private detective.

By the time he’s 25, he’s settled in and relatively comfortable with his career choice. So when his work phone rings one day and he’s still half-asleep he easily opens with, “Shinsou Detective Agency. Before you ask, I do not investigate cheating spouses or missing dogs and I do not screen potential employees for companies.” He paused. “I’ll investigate missing cats, though.”

The person on the other end took a harsh breath, like an almost-laugh, and responded gruffly, “Hm. Good to know if Jelly ever gets lost.”

-> aka shinsou is a PI and aizawa contacts him for help on a case. aizawa never sought out shinsou after the sports festival, being too busy with 1-a’s insane antics, and so shinsou went on to never become a hero. maybe he’s also a vigilante on the side? idk. anyway so yeah aizawa gives him temporary permission to use his quirk during the case. they investigate, blah blah, the point is that afterwards aizawa gets shinsou a licence and takes him on as a sidekick (the same way ingenium offered to koichi in vigilantes)

i have new ideas on the daily. this doc is just growing

keep in mind, i have given to you here only a few of the shortest ones. there are several huge paragraphs of full-au ideas (like where izuku has a quirk, and the entire story follows canon)

these are, ostensibly, ideas for fics that i never write because i’m lazy. but some of them i do end up using for art or comics, so... yeah. most of the comics i’ve posted were originally just little scripts in this doc. an example:

yamada and reformed!shirakumo are walking together, with coffees

shirakumo: so then i - oh, your phone’s wringing

(yamada’s ringtone is the nyancat song, and the contact name is ‘daddy’)

shirakumo: haha, you still call ur dad ‘daddy’? i thought you got over that in high school (taking a sip on the coffee)

yamada: (answering the phone, keeping eye contact with shirakumo) hey, shouta, what’s up?

shirakumo: (spits out coffee)

—- made this a comic on tumblr

damn this post is longer than i expected

whelp, i hope you liked it

[kaotical]

Not the same anon, but can i ask a question, what motivation do you use for making art, i want to make art but i don’t feel like i will ever improve like others

There are actually a lot of things to consider when it comes to gaining motivation. You should try to figure out a proper balance of inspiration and competition. What I mean is this: When you look at someone’s art, how do you feel about it as it relates to your own art?

Warning, long post ahead :))

For most of my life as an artist, I felt inspired by artwork that was superior to mine and sought to improve to reach that level. Let me tell you — the artwork I first looked at when I was what.. 8 or 9 years old?? They were painted by trained anime professionals. I was astonished, and I aimed to reach that skill level… even though I was a kid with notebook paper and a no.2 pencil looking at artwork done with different layers and brushes on an expensive paint program. It’s been about 10 years, and I still don’t think I’m anywhere near that, but I can’t deny the progress I’ve made so far to get to where I am now! As a kid, I was confident in my skills, even though I cringe today looking at my old artwork. But that fact alone reminds me that progress takes time and I just have to work at it! Who knows, future me will probably be embarrassed of my recent art posts. But I’m choosing to be proud of them now, while also seeking to get better every day. Also, I was first inspired by manga drawings, which led me to develop an art style that only implemented certain parts of that style. Today, my drawings are mostly cartoonish (likely inspired by old cartoons as well as tv shows and video games I enjoy). You never know what’s gonna change as you progress, but based on experience, I’d say that it’s good change!

There’s another way people look at art outside the light of inspiration: competition. When they see a piece of art, they may not only feel motivated, but they want to surpass that level. This is where we have to be careful! I’ll be honest with you; If I had this mindset when I was a starting artist, I would have been severely disappointed early on. I would have expected to be as good as the next person as fast as I could, not realizing that it may take years to develop the proper skills, which requires dedication and passion. As a kid without social media, who didn’t know there was a whole art community where you could interact with artists from miles away, I did not know art was sometimes competitive. Ever since I’ve joined the online community of art, I’ve been seeing it everywhere. What tends to bring people down is the fact that there’s someone better than them. Join the club, pal; even the best artists to ever live had their flaws! No matter how good you are, there’s always someone better than you; I’m sure there are more than thousands better than me! I speak from experience that it’s generally unhealthy to compare yourself to others, as it may bring about feelings of self-doubt — that is, if you let others’ talents get to you, the competition smothering the inspiration. But if you truly feel you can surpass people, don’t go for the ones on top right away; find some friends in the art community who can help you! They don’t necessarily have to be better or worse, but cheering each other on and drawing shared interests or fandom-related things together is a great way to progress, as long as you share a healthy bond with just the right amount of competitive flare! Also, I’ve heard that Artfight is coming up soon. I’ve never done it before, but I feel like it would help lots! Anyway, striving to be the best artist in comparison to everyone else usually isn’t the best option. However, striving to be the best artist you can be is a great goal to have!

Uh, so am I finished with this unnecessarily long answer? …Perhaps. OK now to actually answer your question !! I’m motivated by things I love, which is usually fandom related. Whenever I’m not up to drawing my own characters, I just draw fan art! Occasionally, I’ll browse ye olde internet and find cool projects I’m capable of doing. What really gets me excited is looking at behind the scenes stuff and other interesting secrets! Makes me wanna start something of my own people can be interested in :0

[artemisfit]

my reasons to lose weight

One thing i did when I decided to start losing weight was to write down one reason to lose for every pound of my goal weight. I want to be 137 lbs? I wrote 137 reasons to lose the weight to get there.

I want to preface this by saying that these reasons are just my personal reasons for wanting to lose weight, and they have no bearing on and hold no judgement  for anyone else who might read the list. I do not judge anyone for where they are at in their life physically. We are all on our own path. That may sound really patronizing and flighty but it’s true. That being said, for those who suffer with negative body image, some of these reasons might be triggering for that, so please read on with that in mind. 

I don’t even know why I’m posting all of these in a place where other people can see them rather than just keeping them to myself, but I know that the actual process of writing a reason for every pound of my goal weight is something that I found greatly encouraging, so maybe it’ll help someone else?

So without further ado, my reasons to lose weight will be beneath the cut, just because to have them just typed out would make this a very long post. 

To stop hating how I look

To be able to look at my reflection in a full-length mirror without launching into a depressive episode

To be able to look at my own image during a video call without wanting to turn off my camera and hide

To be able to wear the clothes I want and look and feel good in them

To feel attractive and confident

To own my body instead of allowing my body to own me

To be able to enjoy food without being a victim of my appetite

To finally feel beautiful for once in my life

To have clear skin and a clean body

To be able to go up stairs or escalators without running out of breath

To get rid of the stretch marks on my skin

To potentially lessen my anxiety and depression

To be able to wake up at 5 in the morning and feel refreshed

To be the type of person who runs when stressed, not the type to eat her feelings

To never have to wear shapewear ever again

To know the strength that my body is capable of

To look like my own personal motivational photo

To not hate being in front of a camera because I know I’ll look fat in a photo

To treat my body with the respect it deserves

To hear the comments and compliments from friends/family/acquaintances 

To be able to walk around a room in underwear or a dressing gown and feel sexy or at least not self conscious

To see the lower number on the scale at the doctor’s office and not feel like I’m being judged by the nurse

To look good in athletic tights

To be able to stop comparing myself to every girl that passes by (or worse, to my friends)

To be light enough for friends to pick me up

To get to a point where being “what I eat” doesn’t feel like an insult

To be able to wear form fitting clothes without bumps or rolls

To get rid of the bump at the top of my spine and improve my posture

To be able to go swimming without wanting to put a t-shirt on over my swimsuit

To potentially get over my fear and hatred of going shopping in person

To stop constantly thinking people are talking about me and how fat I am

To have more energy

To be more flexible

To not lose my breath after even minimal exertion

To be able to wear a dress without my thighs chafing so bad I get a rash

To get rid of my double chin and perhaps the size/jutting of my actual chin

To have a thinner face over all in addition to a thinner body

To know what having abs feels like

To be able to wear high waisted jeans that zip all the way up and don’t have that pulled gap by the button

To be able to wear “one size fits all” clothing

To be able to playfully sit in a friend’s lap without feeling like I’m going to crush their legs

To improve the strength of my heart

To be confident enough to do karaoke

To be confident enough to wear shorts and sundresses in summer

To be able to do yoga and pilates

To get back into karate or some other type of martial arts

To be able to go to the gym and not feel like everyone’s staring and judging me

To be more active like I was when I was a kid

To be able to run a 5k

To be able to delete the “weight loss” and “motivation” boards on my Pinterest because I don’t need them anymore

To never see a scale number above 150 again

To be able to wear single digit clothing sizes

To maybe see if losing weight helps me wear heels without as much pain

To get rid of the roll-over on my stomach

To have more confidence when it comes to any kind of romance

 To never have to write down “lose weight” as a new years resolution ever again

To be able to fully close my coats and zip up my leather jackets

To have the only muffin top in my life be on actual muffins

To have longer, healthier hair, skin, and nails because my body is clean and healthy and can promote those things more easily

To not feel lethargic and lazy and like a slob all the time

To cry because I lost weight not cry because I gained it

To have my watches and bracelets fit perfectly without leaving marks – same for my rings

To confirm that I do actually have a smaller waist than it currently looks like I do

To lower my risk for health problems later in life

To get rid of the bulk on my thighs – I’ll never have a thigh gap but I can at least not have actual turkey legs

To be able to walk or run 4 miles every morning and not feel like I’m going to die

To stop being so utterly and constantly self-conscious and full of hatred about my own body

To not worry that the guy delivering my takeaway is judging me when I open the door

To look like someone who matches that “London life aesthetic”

To not fear stepping on the scale

To never hear my dad telling me I’ve gained weight again

To be able to encourage my mom in her own weight loss journey

To have thinner, more graceful fingers

To not be the fat friend

To be able to wear sexy, lacy lingerie and feel good in it and not have to buy it in a bigger size and then still be too self-conscious to wear it

To be able to be impressed by my own before and after pics

To not be afraid to see my own naked body when I get out of the shower

To be able to say that I did this, that I achieved my goal and changed my own life

To look good in baggy clothes, not like I’m trying to hide behind them

To enjoy exercise and feel the endorphins it produces

To be confident enough to go for nights out in London and have fun

To be able to buy a whole new wardrobe without feeling like I can’t buy certain things because there’s no way that they would look good on me

To have a higher percentage of muscle than fat

To feel like in at least one area I’m in control of my life and not letting it control me

To sleep better and wake up feeling rested

To hear the comments from my dad’s family in Egypt

To be able to dance around my apartment and not be worried that I left the blinds up

To feel more comfortable in various social situations

To not think that a guy who may or may not be looking at me from across the room is thinking negative things about my looks or my weight

To be able to fit into my fame & partners dress should I ever have an occasion to wear it

To stop feeling so desperate to find new, fad, or quick diets that probably wouldn’t work anyways

To be able to wear clothes like Julia from the magicians

To not feel like no matter what my makeup looks like I’m still ugly

To see the final goal weight number on the scale

To feel like I am worth the work and the effort and maybe even actually believe it

To be able to wear crop tops should I want to

To look good in any youtube videos I decide to make

To be able to make a youtube video or a series of videos at some point about how I lost weight and kept it off

To be able to tuck shirts in to my jeans or skirts and not immediately untuck it because I hate how it looks

To never have to spend hours looking up “weight loss” anywhere on the internet ever again

To feel my clothes get more and more loose

To know what it feels like to have a flat stomach

To not feel like I’m faking whenever I wear something stylish or remotely form-fitting

To be “that hot new phd student”

To have the possibility of a stranger telling me I’m pretty like they do my friends when we’re out (this one is quite selfish but I acknowledge that it’s still a reason)

To get to the point where eating healthy and drinking a gallon of water a day isn’t something I have to remind myself to do, it’s just second nature

To get to a point where I love myself, my whole self, rather than just hating the body I feel like I’m stuck in.

To get to the point where i love exercise and look forward to doing it multiple times a week

To eat intuitively and for enjoyment instead of eating recklessly and unhealthily

To know that I am what i have worked hard to become

To not feel so terrified about changing clothes when others are around

To have slimmer, toned legs

To have a good, shapely bum

To have my hair be my biggest concern when getting ready in the morning instead of “what clothes can I wear to hide my body today?”

To be able to take pictures of my body that will help inspire me and may in turn inspire others should I share them

To see the looks on my friends’ and family’s faces when I get back after being away for a while

To hear the comments from my friends and classmates

To stop hiding behind the camera all the time and be happy to stand in front of it

To stop the thighs of my jeans from wearing out so quickly

To be able to actually live in my body rather than just have it be the thing that takes my head from room to room

To stop feeling envious over the bodies of my friends (I know this is a toxic thing to do/think/live with and I want to get ride of this urge)

To not turn out like a lot of my family

To look more like the girl I used to be when I was a kid and to do her right/do her proud

To see more of the actual shape of my face (do I have good cheekbones? do I have a jawline that could cut a man?)

To be confident enough to go and do my running outside rather than feeling too awkward like people are going to stare and then just using a treadmill.

To get to the point where I know enough about nutrition and my body to be able to listen to it and give it what it needs, not just what I think I want

To get rid of some of the emotional and mental blocks that my physicality has built up for me which prevent me from doing the things I want to do and being the person that I want to be

To have a healthy relationship with food, with exercise, with myself, and with my mental image of myself.

To change the way I think about and talk about myself, to be less self deprecating and more proud

To be able to look at my own body and pictures of myself and find myself sexy and attractive

To be able to buy clothes in stores and not worry that they won’t fit when I get home and try them on

To get rid of the back rolls and actually see some definition in my shoulder blades

To see the look on old friends’ faces (and maybe even more so on those who weren’t friends) when they see how much I’ve changed

To prove people wrong

To prove myself wrong

To be the me that I pretend to be in my fantasies and daydreams

To be more myself, fully and completely, uninhibited and unrestrained

[badwolfwrites-sometimes]

Drawn Together: Chapter 11

Featuring a special character ;))

In his thinking about what he should do with his life now, Feliciano managed to fall asleep. If only for a short while.

"Toni is coming over! Make yourself presentable!" Lovino burst into his room, screaming and attempting to put some fancy leather pants on himself.

Feliciano turned around to face his brother. He loves his brother so much he would die for him, but if he wakes him up one more time... Feliciano wasn't actually sure what he would do. Probably something mean and then apologise the second the deed is done.

He closed his eyes again, adjusting in his comfortable bed. "He's your boyfriend. If anyone should look presentable, it's you."

"Don't embarrass me, Feli." Finally, those pants found themselves on Lovino's legs. Damn, he needed to lose some weight. And try not to sit down. "Get ready and help me set the table. Midget is off somewhere." After saying that, Lovino made his way downstairs.

Feliciano reluctantly sat on his bed, hugging his pillow. He giggled at his brother's gay panic. No matter how much of a flirt they all were, finding themselves in a situation where romance was required left all three of them in a state of helplessness.

Then it dawned on Feliciano. He was the only one not in a relationship out of the three of them. Well, Romeo wasn't officially in a relationship, but the way he talked about that girl the other day makes it seem like being single wouldn't last a while for him. It left Feliciano with a bittersweet feeling in his stomach. The ones who believe in love the most are always the last ones to experience it.

He should really get up before he gets drowned in the feelings of forever alone. He could stay in pajamas though, it's only their Toni.

As he was leaving his room, in the corner of his eye he noticed his unfinished painting still standing. It was calling for him, but he wasn't ready for it yet.

"Oh, please don't tell me you're wearing that to dinner." Lovino commented as soon as he saw him. Feliciano was dressed in his red pajama pants with cats all over them and an old blue T-shirt he got from Grandpa. In other words, he was dressed in his favourite outfit.

"It's comfortable." Feliciano responded, earning an eyeroll from his brother. "Don't tell me you're afraid he might actually come to my room tonight and not yours cuz I'm more inviting."

Lovino threw a rag at his brother.

Feliciano only laughed. "Those pants do look hard to pull off."

Lovino gasped at the comment, but before he could hit Feliciano again, the door swung open. "Lovi~" Came a sweet, exotic voice which got Lovino all red in a matter of seconds.

Feliciano smirked, but Lovino didn't notice. In fact, Lovino seemed unable to move. That means Feliciano has to get Antonio.

"Hi, Toni! Lovi is having a meltdown in the kitchen and he needs all of your kisses." Feliciano popped a greeting to his friend, before he turned serious. "Did you get my texts?"

Antonio nodded, patting Feliciano's head and messing his hair up. "I'll take good care of him." He smiled.

Feliciano's mood returned back to normal after hearing that, continuing with his jokes. "I hope you don't mind me being in pajamas. Please don't try to sleep with me accidentally."

Antonio blushed, the soft shade of pink matching his green eyes and dark complexion. Feliciano could see the reason why his brother fell for him. He was beautiful, kind, loving and had a really nice butt. "Don't worry about it, Feli. My heart is only Lovino's." Antonio said.

"Good. Make sure it stays that way. And use protection." Feliciano laughed before walking back to the kitchen.

"Mamita told me the same thing!" Antonio giggled, walking over to Lovino who was still experiencing some troubles with moving and talking, and gave him a big kiss on his cheeks. "How are you, amo?"

Feliciano avoided directly staring at them, but he could pick out Lovino's smiles and nuzzles from the glasses he was holding in hands. As much as he was glad that his brother was feeling happy and safe to even be doing this in front of him, Feliciano still worried.

"I finished the book, you know." He said, setting the glasses at the table. "I really liked it, too."

Antonio and Lovino tore their gazes away from each other for a couple of seconds, noticing that everything was now set. "Book? Silence in Venice?" Antonio asked, sitting down next to Lovino.

"Yeah. I feel really bad for Alice. She got too much abuse from everyone and she didn't deserve it." Feliciano ranted.

Antonio shrugged, running circles on Lovino's shoulder. "I only know what Andy told me so I can't really say anything about that. He has a theory that she's pregnant or something by the end of the book. And the author gave some hints about a sequal so..."

"Oh, you're talking about that German book." Came from Lovino, who finally connected the dots. "Should I leave the table?"

Antonio made a weird face, like he had done something wrong. Feliciano could feel his blood beginning to boil, wanting to evaporate from his body. He had to keep it cool, a dinner is never a place for war. "No, it's fine. We're done anyway." He said.

"You know I hate them and you know why I hate them, so don't bring them up in front of me." Lovino huffed out angrily.

Feliciano didn't respond, he just quietly ate his dinner. Right now, all he wanted was his room and his peace. And not being a third wheel to his brother.

He finally slipped away from the table, under a bathroom excuse, when Antonio was too busy courting Lovino and Lovino was too busy flirting with him to notice. God, it felt so good to be free from their loveydoveyness. True, he loved romance, he could literally drown in romance, but sometimes he needed to be away from it to fully enjoy it again.

He sat in front of his painting, thinking back of his mistake. There were still chances to fix it, but did he really have to do it now? After the suffering he just went through with the book?

Then it dawned on him. He could fix the painting AND his broken heart. All he had to do was paint what broke him over the nasty brown colour. Hell, even that ugly brown looked so beautiful to him now that he had an idea.

Feliciano raced out of his room, squealing and jumping around, bursting with inspiration and ideas. He had to share them with someone. The one time he could really say that he was a genious was now.

Antonio and Lovino looked at him as he jumped all across the stairs. If Lovino was forced to admit it, he had never seen Feliciano this happy in his life.

He run up to them, hugging them both at the same time much to their confusion, mumbling something about how he got it. Feliciano then proceeded to kiss both of their foreheads, just as Romeo was entering the house.

To Romeo's distress and confusion, Feliciano jumped for him next, hugging him and kissing him the same way he did Antonio and Lovino. The oldest and the youngest brothers exchanged looks of pure confusion. Something weird got into Feliciano lately.

Then, like nothing happened, Feliciano stormed back to his room, leaving his brothers and Antonio in a what-the-hell-just-happened-here atmosphere.

Feliciano returned back to his chair, he already wasted enough of his inspiration time to hug and kiss his brothers, if he wasted more, he would lose the idea.

It took Feliciano several days to finish his work of art. That is several days of not eating or sleeping. He barely even drank anything and most of the time it was paint water. He couldn't even distinguish it from actual water because everything started to taste metalic like the paint. But it was a small price to pay for being an artist.

Feliciano was proud of his work. The ugly brown stripe was now replaced by a magnificant bridge, The Rialto bridge. On top of the bridge Feliciano added two people holding hands and pressing their foreheads together. One was a beautiful girl with red hair tied in two side braids which fell neatly down her green dress. The other was a boy dressed in black with slicked blond hair and a lovestruck expression on his face. Just as Feliciano imagined them.

He snapped a picture of his painting, posting it on his Instagram and Tumblr, before leaving his room for the first time in a while.

"He's alive!" Was the first thing welcoming Feliciano as he entered the kitchen. "We really thought you were dead." The same person, Romeo, commented.

Romeo was making lunch that day, quite an unusual activity for him, and Lovino was nowhere to be found. "He's at Toni's house if you need him." Romeo said, reading Feliciano like an open book. "And Nonno called, he'll be here by tomorrow night."

Well, that was exciting. "Really?" Feliciano asked, earning a nod from his brother. "Where do you think he's been travelling this time?"

"Probably anywhere but Greece." Romeo joked.

"That's rude to Uncle Heracles!" Feliciano giggled.

"Why do we even call him uncle? He's basically the same age as Lovi."

"No idea."

The conversation died. Romeo was too busy cooking his lunch to continue poking fun at their odd family relationship. Uncle Heracles was actually only half of an uncle to them, their grandmother's son after she divorced their grandfather. Even with the two remaining close friends, Feliciano and his brothers barely see their uncle.

But it wasn't the time to think about family drama.

Feliciano placed his arms on his brother's shoulders, an old habit which hadn't died even after Romeo outgrew him. "What are you making?"

"Eggs." Romeo answered.

"Yeah, I can see that." Feliciano giggled. "Wait, that's all you're gonna eat?"

"That's four eggs, Feli."

"That's not a lunch!" Feliciano was offended. "Move over, I'm gonna make you something proper."

Romeo stopped and stared at Feliciano. "I wanna eat eggs. And I wanna make my own lunch. So go away."

Before Feliciano could protest, Romeo wiggled his eyebrows in the direction of the door, clicking with his tongue. No point in fighting, Feliciano, just be a good dog and walk away.

He returned to his room, wondering if he should paint more or leave it to settle for a few days. Or he could check how his new painting was doing on the social media.

Feliciano opened his Instagram first, saw that he got a few likes and no comments so far. Tumblr was even worse. Well, he didn't expect much in the first place.

Then he got a WhatsApp notification. From an unknown number.

'Hey Feli! <3' 'I haven't heard from you in a while, how are you?' 'This is Elizabeta btw. From middle school.'

Oh. It was Lizzie.

Truth to be told, Feliciano had the unfortunate luck to get all the numbers from his middle school deleted in a broken phone accident. Good thing he kept his old number.

He added her back to his contacts and responded.

♡~Feli~♡: Heyy Lizzie ♡~Feli~♡: True long time no hear ♡~Feli~♡: Im fine how are you hows life in Hungary

Feliciano decided to browse around his phone, waiting for a reply.

Lizzie: Great actually XD Lizzie: I'm not really living in Hungary anymore Lizzie: I got married

♡~Feli~♡: Congratulations!! ♡~Feli~♡: Where do you live now

Lizzie: Germany Lizzie: Actually that's what I texted you for Lizzie: See I saw your latest art on Facebook Lizzie: From the book Silence in Venice Lizzie: And I showed it to my husband's cousin and he's really into it so I wanted to ask if you'd be okay if I gave him your number Lizzie: He wants to gush about his emotions to you

Feliciano blinked. There was too much going on right now. First of all, he posted his art on Facebook? Unlikely, but then again he is prone to forgetting about things when it comes to art. That's how he failed his Art History. Stupid Rembrant.

Second of all, he was not comfortable with that at all. Elizabeta having his number was alright and all, even if they haven't seen each other since forever, but a complete stranger... He'll have to pass on that.

♡~Feli~♡: Actually... ♡~Feli~♡: Id rather you dont do that ♡~Feli~♡: Im not really comfortable with that ♡~Feli~♡: He can message me on Insta tho ♡~Feli~♡: Or Tumblr

A couple of minutes passed.

Lizzie: Yeah no problem Lizzie: He doesn't have either but I'm gonna make him some Lizzie: What's your Tumblr username

♡~Feli~♡: Artisloveandlife

Lizzie: That sounds just like you :D

Feliciano wasn't sure if he was supposed to wait for something or go and do his own thing. He wasn't sure if he even had a thing to do in the first place.

Half an hour passed. Feliciano spent them on Youtube, watching random cat videos. They were cute, but he wasn't really into them at the moment. Then his phone buzzed, two notifications from Tumblr.

'lutzie71 has followed you.'

'fryingpansandyaoi has followed you.'

Moments later, he was hit with another message on WhatsApp.

Lizzie: Heh took me a while Lizzie: I'm fryingpansandyaoi and he's lutzie71 Lizzie: You might want to message him first he's really shy

How cute! Feliciano thought. Shy men were the best kind of men in his opinion.

♡~Feli~♡: Okay lol ♡~Feli~♡: You re still into yaoi omg ♡~Feli~♡: Some things never change hahah

Lizzie: Yeah...

♡~Feli~♡: You re not trying to set me up with him are you now

Lizzie: No I've grown out of that phase Lizzie: Just talk to him he's been staring at his phone without blinking for a few minutes now Lizzie: It's freaking me out

♡~Feli~♡: Aww thats adorable ♡~Feli~♡: I will text him now

And true to his word, Feliciano opened his Tumblr, followed back his new mutuals, and typed out his message to a potential new friend.

Artisloveandlife: Hello! Artisloveandlife: How are you? I'm Elizabeta's friend! Nice to meet you!

3 minutes passed before Feliciano got a response.

Lutzie71: Hello... Lutzie71: I really appreciate your artwork for my book. Lutzie71: I am Ludwig by the way.

It was at that moment that Feliciano knew... the tables are about to be flipped.

[keichanz]

Move Your Body || pt. 1

Hi, friends. First off, I want to say that I really wanted to finish and post this before Sunday, but obviously that didn’t happen, so I decided to go ahead and post the first part of my new AU because...well. Just continue reading. :) 

Secondly, some of you may know this, some may not, but today, the 28th, is also my birthday. Yep, I turned the big 3-0 today, and lemme tell you I am not thrilled about it lmao. 

Some of you may also know that recently I created a Ko-fi and that I’ve been struggling a bit financially wise. 

This fic is a great, big, fat thank you to all of you who have supported me through Ko-fi and also for those of you who didn’t, but were there for me anyway with your encouragement, kind words, and emotional support. I can’t begin to tell how how much it meant to me that you guys didn’t hesitate to donate, and I am not lying when I say it literally brought me to tears. I cried from your generosity, and I cannot thank you enough for helping me out. This month has been a bit rougher than most, and I am eternally grateful to every single one of you. I wanted to give you something in return, and I thought, why not post this AU early. It’s small, and I know a lot of you are looking forward to the next chapter of You Rescued Me (it’s in the works!), but I hope this will suffice.

Having all of you as friends, as followers and readers, is the best birthday gift I could have ever asked for. I’m so damn blessed and grateful to have all of you in my life and i hope you all know that I appreciate and love you all from the very bottom of my heart.

So thank you again for being there for me. You can all bet your asses I’ll be the first one to jump on the chance in helping in any way that I can if ever one of you need support. Because you have mine, guaranteed. 

Note: I know fuck all about choreography or being a producer, so for the sake of this story, pretend everything in factual and accurate lmao.

Inuyasha was lounging in his office and puffing idly on a cigarette while poring over some of his old routines in hopes of sparking some inspiration when he heard the music.

Normally he wouldn’t care and would just ignore it, the probability that it was one of his instructors coming in for the midnight lessons his studio offered more than likely. Less likely it was one of their students wanting to get in some late night practice, but still possible. They needed express permission from himself in order to do that, and since neither Sango nor Miroku had run it by him to get that authorization, Inuyasha doubted any of his instructors’ students actually had the balls to sneak in without consent. So that ruled that out.

Inuyasha frowned and looked up from his desk, pinching the cig between two fingers and exhaling. He cocked his head, ears twitching as he tried to determine where exactly it was coming from, and when he did his eyebrows shot up in surprise. The music was not coming from the first or second floor, suggesting it was either one of his friends or a student, but instead the soft notes of a vaguely familiar hip-hop song were drifting up from directly below him.

The Taisho Studios building was made up of five floors, with the ground floor being the first. That one was Sango’s studio where she held her lessons, teaching those interested in how to dance in various styles and offering kick-boxing lessons as well. Miroku instructed his clientele on the second floor, where he offered various unique exercise regimes that was basically Zumba but with his own personal flare.

The third floor, however, was reserved for his use only, the top dog’s private studio where only a select few ever saw the inside, and those usually consisted of celebrities looking for the best of the best for their music videos. Inuyasha instructed those lessons himself and charged top dollar for his services. Everyone knew it was off limits and he kept the door locked. The fourth floor consisted of his spacious office and gym, also available to Miroku and Sango whenever they wanted since they weren’t just his instructors, but also his valued friends. It was conveniently located right below his top floor condo so whenever Inuyasha was working late, he could just drag his ass upstairs and bam, he was home.

Wondering who had the balls big enough to use his private studio without his permission, Inuyasha abandoned his work and strode to the door, cracking it open and sticking his head out into the hall. The music got louder and Inuyasha surmised whoever it was must have left the doors wide open so as far as he was concerned that was an open invitation to go see who it was and then kick them the hell out.

Glancing over his shoulder and eyeing the desk littered with paperwork and his open lap top, Inuyasha snorted, shrugged, and promptly decided he needed a break. His deadline wasn’t for another month and he wasn’t being very productive tonight anyway so Sesshomaru can just kiss his merrily dancing ass and deal with it.

Sticking his cig back between his lips, Inuyasha forwent using the elevator and instead wandered casually down the hall, going into the stairwell and then abruptly vaulting over the railing and dropping to the third floor. The entrance to his studio was right across from the elevators and staircase, so when he opened the door he found himself staring directly into it—and the person brave enough to utilize the spacious room without his knowledge.

For the second time that night Inuyasha’s eyebrows rose in surprise and without even being aware of it he padded across the hallway. His footsteps were masked by the music coming out of the Bluetooth speakers and they were facing away from them. Curious despite himself, Inuyasha leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms, golden eyes silent observing as a little smirk quirked his lips.

Kagome released an undignified squawk as she stumbled forward for the nth time that night, the toe of her shoe catching on the hardwood floor and throwing off her balance. Windmilling her arms, she managed to catch herself before she face-planted onto the hard floor and resisted the urge to stamp her foot like a child and scream her vexation into the empty studio.

Dammit, why couldn’t she get this? Sango had made it look so easy when she’d shown her earlier, and after a couple of tries with her instructor’s guidance, Kagome had been able to more or less command her body to execute a smooth hip roll without looking like a twerking imbecile. Now for some reason she was unable to smoothly transition into the dance move she wanted without nearly falling over and needless to say she was getting frustrated.

Grumbling under her breath and wishing she had her friend’s tall and slender physique, Kagome stomped over to the table where her phone sat and paused the song in order to once more bring up the choreography. She hit play for the hundredth time, studied closely the two men and one woman flawlessly busting out move after move without fault and she promptly scowled before tossing her phone back on the table with a rough exhale.

Closing her eyes and tilting her head back, Kagome frowned and allowed her mind to wander, vaguely noting the faint smell of cigarette smoke that had been present earlier had suddenly gotten stronger. What was she even doing, anyway? She’d never been the most coordinated of people and was oftentimes called a klutz. She wasn’t graceful and she wasn’t even athletic, so really, this was a waste of time. She knew if she carried this out she would only end up making a fool of herself so why go through the trouble?

“Because,” Kagome answered herself with a deep sigh, shoulders slumping in defeat, “I’m too damn stubborn and my stupid pride won’t let me quit.”

“You make it sound like that’s a bad thing.”

Kagome gasped and spun around, hand over her pounding heart and blue eyes wide with a combination of surprise and embarrassment. Her gaze landed on the lounging figure in the doorway, casually puffing away on a cigarette as he regarded her silently.

Well, that explains the odor of cigarette smoke, Kagome mused while aloud she said, “Jeez, you scared me. I didn’t know anyone else was here.” She paused and then frowned when his words registered. “What?”

The man said nothing and just continued to stare at her, cig tucked between his lips, expression unreadable. He was...damn, he was attractive, Kagome secretly admitted, feeling a blush creep up to color her cheeks a soft pink. Donned in loose fitting black jeans that rode low on his hips and a plain white t-shirt that contoured very nicely to a toned chest and stomach, a backwards ballcap was pulled on top of a head of short, shaggy silver hair. His eyes looked to be a stunning golden color and when he lifted a hand to pinch the cig between two fingers, Kagome noticed two things: the talons tipping each finger, instantly giving away what he was, and the black tattoo starting at his wrist that crawled up his arm to disappear into his shirt sleeve.

Kagome’s breath hitched and her heart skipped a beat. No wonder he’s so attractive, she thought dazedly, glimpsing a flash of fang as he parted his lips and tendrils of smoke drifted up toward the ceiling. He’s not human.

What was that saying? The most beautiful things in life are often the most dangerous, or something to that effect. Kagome was inclined to believe it, suddenly feeling very flushed and where was her water bottle?

“Tenacity and pride,” the man continued, studying the fag between his fingers with an air of boredom. “By themselves they don’t do much good and more often than not just get you into trouble, but put them together and success is pretty much guaranteed in the performing arts industry.

“So I guess you could say,” he said and took a drag of his cig, “they’re requirements in our world. Stipulations if you wanna get anywhere in life.”

Kagome shook her head. “Um, our world?” she repeated, utterly lost.

The look he gave her was deadpan. “Dancing, babydoll.”

Ocean eyes widened in understanding and her flush darkened as she sheepishly averted her gaze, fidgeting where she stood.

“Oh, I, um,” Kagome faltered, clearing her throat and for some reason suddenly feeling like a child in front of a grown up about to confess to being naughty. “I’m...not a dancer,” she finished lamely and winced, twisting the fabric of her shirt with her fingers in a nervous habit.

Inuyasha raised a dubious brow at that declaration. “Alright,” he allowed, nodding slowly. “So suppose you tell me what the hell you’re doing in my private studio then, playing music and dressed like that?”

Kagome blanched and jerked her head up to stare at him with wide-eyes. “P-private?” she squeaked and looked so terrified Inuyasha briefly regretted telling her that. “Oh god—I’m so sorry, I didn’t know! Er, my dance instructor Sango told me I could use her studio tonight to get some practice in, but when I got here it was locked and I...found this one and it was unlocked...”

Looking very uncomfortable with a red face and shifting nervously from foot to foot, Inuyasha felt his face soften slightly as he watched her and he released a quiet sigh around the cig in his mouth. It had been unlocked since he was in here an hour before trying out some moves for the new routine he was working on and he’d planned on locking back up before he went upstairs.

So ultimately it was his fault since he’d left the doors unlocked, and as such it wouldn’t exactly be fair to be angry at her. It also appeared she didn’t know who he was, which admittedly was a bit surprising. Everyone knew everything above the second floor was off limits unless given permission and it led him to believe she was a fairly new student of Sango’s.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized again and gave an awkward half-bow, biting down on her lip as she finally met his eyes. “I’ll, um, leave if you want me to. I really didn’t know...”

Inuyasha considered her for a moment and then shook his head. What was the point if she was already here? “Nah, don’t worry about,” he muttered and took another drag on his cig, watching as she visibly relaxed and offered him a timid smile.

Cute little thing, ain’t she? he mused idly and racked his gaze down her lithe form. She says she’s not a dancer, but she certainly had the body to be one. That damn shirt hid most of his view, but from what he could see of her legs—

“Are you an instructor?” she asked him, tilting her head. “I haven’t seen you around before.”

Inuyasha fought against the urge to grin. She really didn’t have any idea who he was.

“You can say that,” he finally said at length, finding himself not wanting to give away his identity just yet. This could prove to be interesting, and who knows; maybe it would spark some inspiration and he’d finally be able to get some results so Sesshomaru would stop jumping down his damn throat with his demands and deadlines.

“Still waiting for an explanation, babydoll,” Inuyasha reminded her and took another drag. Technically there was no smoking allowed in his building, but he owned it and could do whatever the hell he damn well pleased, so whatever.

She blinked. “For what?”

He cocked a brow at her and carelessly flicked some ashes onto the floor; maintenance would clean it up tomorrow morning anyway. “Why you’re here. You said you ain’t a dancer, which is all fine and dandy, but you got me curious.” He shrugged and let the cig dangle from his lips as he crossed his arms again.

Kagome winced and then wrinkled her nose, her face warming up at the true reason for her being here.

“It’s stupid...” she mumbled, staring down at the floor and hunching her shoulders a little.

Inuyasha frowned. “I doubt that,” he told her and had an insane, unexplainable urge to cross the room and wrap her up in his arms. She just looked so small and fragile and he wanted to...protect her? What the—from what?

Kagome looked like she didn’t believe but she took a breath and told him anyway, figuring he had a right to know since this was his private studio. Or at least that’s what he told her, however Kagome figured he was telling the truth because why else would he be here?

“It really is stupid,” she repeated with a sigh and a fleeting grimace crossed her features. “My college was holding an event the other day out in the courtyard in front of the student activities building, and since my friends and I had nothing better to do, we decided to go and see what it was all about. Turns out it was a DDR competition and they were using a giant white board as a screen and extension cords to hook the game up. Anyone was welcome to play a round and enter some friendly competition, and even though I’ve never played before in my life, I gave it a try.”

She paused and crossed her arms, her nose scrunching slightly in a little pout that he found completely too adorable. “Of course I failed miserably at it, but I laughed it off because it was just for fun anyway. But then this extremely rude and universally not liked rich bitch laughed way too hard about it and snarked that I would never win any contest with those moves.”

Inuyasha cocked a brow at her, his tone disbelieving as he drawled, “You’re here because of a game of DDR?”

She scowled at him and had the good grace to blush. “No. If you let me continue, I was going to say the purpose of the entire event was to promote an actual dance competition where you have to come up with a new dance to a song of your choosing. It has to be at least one minute long, an entry can have up to four people, and all of the moves have to be completely original.”

“Sounds fair,” he commented.

Kagome nodded. “So after humiliating me in front of dozens of people, this bitch flips her hair, pops her chest out so everybody notices her fake boobs, and loudly declares that it’ll be a piece of cake winning the competition since ‘nobody worth while’ has entered. And oh my god, I got so heated, and just to spite the cocky bitch, I stared her right in the eye as I entered despite the fact that I cannot dance worth a good goddamn.

“And so now,” Kagome shrugged and held up her hands helplessly. “Here I am, sneaking into private studios at midnight and pretending like I know what the hell I’m doing.” She offered a wavering smile, her face still red but her blue eyes were bright.

Inuyasha nodded again and whistled low. “I see,” he murmured. “Good on you though, for not letting her cow you like that. I take it this isn’t the first time she’s given you grief.”

Kagome sighed and pinched her nose. “Since I started college three years ago. We’re in the same major.”

“Which is?”

“Nursing.”

He looked surprised. “So this bitch walking about like her shit don’t stink wants a career that dedicates all of her time taking care of and thinking about someone else other than herself? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“I know,” Kagome said drolly, her expression one of dry exasperation. “Trust me, the irony is not lost on me.”

“Damn,” Inuyasha muttered in bewilderment, shaking his head.

Kagome grunted in agreement, wrinkling her nose.

He bit back a chuckle. “Alright. Now lemme ask you this, babydoll,” Inuyasha suddenly said, flicking more ashes onto the floor and when her inquisitive blue eyes met his, he continued. “You said earlier that your stubbornness and pride won’t let you back down. Is that still true?”

Kagome blinked in confusion, brow furrowing slightly. “What...?”

“Is it?”

Amber eyes bore into her own and Kagome shivered. “I...yes,” she answered, barely above a whisper.

He nodded. “One more thing.” Pinching the nearly gone cancer stick between two fingers and lowering it from his lips, Inuyasha looked directly into her eyes and exhaled smoothly.

“Do you want it?”

Kagome opened her mouth. Closed it. Looked adorably confused. “Do I...do I want what?”

Inuyasha was silent for a moment as he studied her, and then he answered roughly, “You have to want it, babydoll. Spite is a great motivator, but it’s not enough if you want real results. If you don’t want it bad enough, if this is all just a game to get back at some snotty bitch with fake tits, then you’re wasting your time and might as well leave right now. I don’t give my time to quitters.”

Kagome gasped and shook her head, her heart pounding at what he was implying. “What do you—”

“Do you want it?”

The intensity in which he’d asked that single question gave Kagome pause and suddenly she knew exactly what he was referring to, what he wanted to hear her say. And it was amazing because she did want it; she wanted it with a desperation that surprised her because when she’d changed into her workout clothes and left her apartment at 11:30 at night to practice dancing in an empty studio, she hadn’t truly thought that she would get anywhere and thought for sure she’d end up giving in and backing down.

But then suddenly this man appears out of nowhere, starts asking her questions about pride and tenacity, somehow wheedles out the real reason why she’s here and her ambition roars back to life. No, it wasn’t just spite that made her agree. True, she wanted to prove that bitch wrong, but she wanted to prove to herself even more that she could do this and do it so well she’d leave everyone wondering if she was the same clumsy Kagome that tripped over air and fell up the stairs.

“Yes,” Kagome answered honestly, squaring her shoulders and straightening her back. Nodding, she repeated herself, her voice strong and ringing with resolve.

“Yes, I want it. I want it.”

Inuyasha’s eyes flashed and he nodded once. “Good.”

Then with that he started toward her, his strides purposeful and Kagome watched him as he approached the table behind her and stabbed out his cigarette in the ash tray she’d failed to notice before now.

Then he turned to her, crossed his arms, and leaned back against the table.

“Let’s see it.”

Kagome balked. “What?”

“Show me what you got, babydoll. Dance for me.”

Kagome blushed and swallowed thickly, her mouth suddenly feeling dry as her heart kick started in her chest.

“Why?” she whispered although she suspected she already knew why.

Instead of answering, Inuyasha grabbed her phone and woke up the screen, ignoring her protest. “What song?”

Kagome made a half-hearted swipe for her mobile and huffed in aggravation when he held it away from her. “Song?”

He cut his eyes to her with an annoyed frown. “What song are you going to be dancing to?”

She blinked. “Oh. Well, I was thinking maybe Girls like You by Maroon—”

“No.”

“...Excuse me?”

“No,” Inuyasha repeated and scrolled through the songs on her music app. “It’s not a bad choice, but it’s too...soft for what you need. If you wanna win this competition you’re gonna want something with a real shock factor, something totally unexpected that’ll knock their fucking socks off and have men and women alike panting and wanting a piece of that.”

Kagome made a face and muttered, “I don’t really care if I win this thing. I just want Kamlyn to eat her words and maybe get her to stop harassing me every goddamned day.”

Inuyasha shrugged. “Then consider it a bonus because when I’m through with you it’ll be guaranteed. Now,” he said and browsed her music again with a contemplative frown. “From what you’ve told me about this Kamlyn wench, it’s safe to assume her dance is not going to be kid friendly. That means you’re gonna hafta knock her performance outta the park with something sexier.”

Kagome blanched. Sexier? Oh god. She was anything but sexy and she really didn’t think she liked where he was going with this...

“You’re taste in music sucks,” he commented idly when still he saw nothing after a few more minutes of scrolling. She must have had over five hundred songs on the damn thing and yet none of the titles he glimpsed were appropriate for what he had in mind. He uselessly scrolled for another minute, gave up, and decided he’d have better luck with YouTube. They’d have to discuss what song she’ll use at a later time, but for now he’d just use a random bop with a suitable rhythm and he searched for the first one that came to mind.

“It does not,” Kagome fired back petulantly and crossed her arms again. “If you’re gonna insult my music then you can just—”

Inuyasha tapped the screen and seconds later the rest of her words were abruptly cut off by a steady, thrumming beat pumping from the speakers around them. The music ebbed and flowed, giving off a suggestive and sultry energy that can often be found in strip clubs. The lyrics followed shortly thereafter, soft, sexy, and alluring.

Kagome’s heart stopped and for the second time in as many minutes the color drained from her face. Oh no. Nooooo no no no no he couldn’t possibly want her to dance to…to something like that?

As the crooning lyrics abruptly turned into obscene moaning sounds, Inuyasha set her phone on the table and crossed his arms before nodding his head behind her, a wordless gesture to get on with it.

Oh good lord he did. Fervently Kagome shook her head, her eyes pleading with him to choose another song while inwardly cursing every perverted songwriter that decided it would be a good idea to create something like that. It was too embarrassing, too…too suggestive, something she wouldn’t even do in the privacy of her own room, let alone in front of a very attractive man!

Inuyasha frowned at her adamant refusal and explained, “I need to see what I’m working with here, babydoll, and in order for me to do that, you need to show me. This is just to give me an idea on where to start, so just pretend I’m not here and let the music take over. Close your eyes if you need to and let everything else just fade away.”

Blushing furiously, Kagome bit her lip and hesitated, dropping her gaze to stare down at the floor and clutched the hem of her shirt, wringing the fabric in an obviously nervous gesture. She knew without a doubt that even if she did close her eyes she would still be aware of his presence. Even now she could feel the weight of his gaze, staring at her unwaveringly and it made her stomach do not so unpleasant flip-flops as her heart accelerated in her chest.

Didn’t he realize what he was asking of her? Kagome had never considered herself sexy; hell, she wouldn’t even call herself pretty. She was average. She didn’t turn heads, never attracted attention, and she could count on one hand the number of times a guy had flirted with her. (Once, and it was her ex-boyfriend.) Kagome was awkward, clumsy; she knew she was no prize and her confidence level was drastically low.

Simply put, she wasn’t Kamlyn, who, despite being completely fake, was considered one of the hottest people on campus and she wasn’t afraid to flaunt what she had. How could he possibly ask her to dance to a song like this when she had nothing to flaunt?

When the song transitioned into the first chorus and all she did was continue to stand there looking very uncomfortable while avoiding his gaze, it became glaringly obvious that her hesitation went beyond mere shyness so with a sigh Inuyasha swiped up her phone and hit pause. Her shoulders hunched as the music was abruptly cut off and she peeked up at him, biting her lip and looking like she was about to be scolded.

His expression softened, however the confusion was evident on his face as he regarded her thoughtfully. Was this truly so difficult for her?

“Okay,” he murmured. “What’s the matter?” The patient softness of his voice surprised even him and judging by the look that crossed her face, it surprised her too.

She recovered quickly, though, and once more ducked her head, shifting her weight and feeling a flush of embarrassment color her face a soft pink. She really didn’t want to confide in a virtual stranger all of her self-image issues, even if he was trying to help her. Maybe if she gave him just a brief display of her awkwardness and incoordination he would see for himself that the song definitely wasn’t the best choice.

Dearly hoping she wouldn’t regret this, Kagome swallowed thickly and said just loud enough for him to hear, “Um, s-start the song over, please.”

Inuyasha frowned at her unexpected request and he eyed her for a moment, expression contemplative, before wordlessly reaching over to wake up the screen and did as he bade him. A single tap of a clawed finger and the song was starting over, the beginning notes echoing throughout the studio.

Steeling herself, unable to stop her nervous shaking, Kagome took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and started moving.

Right off the bat Inuyasha knew with absolute certainty, or at the least very strongly suspected just why exactly she was so adamant about not using this particular song. It was heavy with sex appeal, the kind that made women grind and gyrate their hips as they sought to turn on every single man nearby, and this girl, this young woman had absolutely zero.

Her movements were stiff and awkward as she attempted to move her body to the music provided like she had no idea where to put her limbs. The look of intense concentration on her face suggested that might very well be the case and it was clear she’d never before used her hips or ass as a method of seduction. They didn’t roll so much as jerk and her knees weren’t at all relaxed but locked which accounted for all the stumbling she was doing. Of course with that damn shirt in the way it was hard to accurately guess, but altogether it was glaringly obvious how out of her element she was, her discomfort not only painted clear as day on her face, but in the stiff way she moved.

After another stumble that nearly sent her sprawling onto the floor, Inuyasha couldn’t take it anymore and he put a stop to her painful performance by pressing pause and he didn’t miss the unmistakable look of relief that crossed her features.  Then she righted herself, sighed, and looked positively defeated as she stared at him, as if she already knew he was going to declare her a lost cause and change his mind about helping her.

If only she knew that watching her sorely lacking performance had the complete opposite and only solidified his decision to help her.

And besides, he always liked a challenge. It was only a bonus that he could use her routine – with her permission, of course – as new material and Sesshomaru would stop hounding him about the damn deadline in a month.

Which reminded him… “What’s your name, babydoll?” he asked as he scrolled through her songs and selected one that would be good practice for what he had in mind.

Kagome frowned at the unexpected question but answered, “Kagome.”

“How long you got until the competition, Kagome?” Setting her phone back on the table, Inuyasha took off his hat and carelessly tossed it onto the table as well before promptly reaching behind him and yanking off his shirt.

Kagome sputtered as her face flamed, eyes going very wide to suddenly be faced with a very attractive, bare chested man. Good god, but this man was a silver-haired Adonis, all sculpted muscle, tanned skin, and those ears were too damn cute. What really grabbed her attention, however, was the wicked looking tribal tattoo wrapped around his left arm that she was finally able to see in its entirety. The intricate design extended all the way up to his shoulder and upon closer inspection it appeared to be a dragon with the head on his left pectoral. It was beautifully done and Kagome was slightly jealous. She’d always wanted a tattoo...

“I—I—uh, a little over a month?” she said, completely distracted by the complete magnificently tattooed male...yumminess that he presented.

Without her permission her eyes tracked the line of silver hair that disappeared into his low-slung jeans. Her heart beat a little faster as the blush on her face intensified and oh my god, he had another tattoo in the delectable V of his right hip bone, what looked to be jagged red claw marks half-concealed by his jeans.

Kagome thought she might faint.

Inuyasha snorted in amusement. This was too perfect. “Good. Take it off.”

That jolted her right out of her avid admiration of his solid abs and she blinked, darting her gaze this with a puzzled frown. “What?”

He withheld a smirk. Checking him out, was she? Then it was only fair he got to do the same.

“Shirt. Off. Now. Unless you’d like me to do it for you?” He cocked a brow at her and had to grin when she squeaked and took a step away from him. “C’mon, we ain’t got all night.”

“But—what—” Kagome stuttered, utterly perplexed and she crossed her arms over her stomach as if that would be any defense to him divesting her of her shirt. “Why?” she finally managed.

Inuyasha rolled his eyes and explained, “Because it’ll only get in the way and I need to be able to see.”

She eyed him suspiciously and narrowed her eyes. “See what?”

He scowled then, getting impatient. “To see why you move like an eighty year old woman with Parkinson’s, now would you stop questioning me and just take the fucking thing off already? You’re wearing a bra anyway and it ain’t like I’m asking so I can ogle your tits or some shit. Christ,” he muttered and rubbed his forehead. She certainly wasn’t kidding when she said she was stubborn.

Kagome flushed. Truth was, she had assumed part of the reason he was asking was so he could stare at her chest but now she felt ridiculous for even suspecting it. She didn’t even think he was that type of man anyway, she was just...nervous. She liked her oversized shirts; they were her security blanket, a shield to protect herself from anyone looking too closely. If she took it off, despite having a sports bra on underneath, she would feel too vulnerable, exposed in a way that had nothing to do with lack of clothing.

Here he was, standing in all his beautiful half-naked glory, sculpted abs, a hard chest, and arms thick with muscle and strength. Meanwhile here she was, plain, frumpy Kagome, with her small chest, soft stomach, and general awkwardness. Standing next to him, she felt like the ugly duckling that got hit with every branch on her way down the ugly tree and he expected her to reveal all of her could-stand-to-lose-a-few-pounds body to him?

Hell no.

Once more avoiding his gaze and shifting from foot to foot, Kagome’s hands clutched the dark gray fabric of her shirt and she shook her head, biting down on her lip.

“Um—I, uh, c-can’t I continue wearing it? Please?”

Even she could hear how pathetic she sounded pleading about something so trivial but she couldn’t help it. She was already feeling out of sorts with the song he was using; keeping her shirt was her last defense. Didn’t he know that?

Scowling, Inuyasha opened his mouth to once again demand she remove it, but then she peeked up at him from under dark, sooty lashes and when his eyes connected with hers realization hit him so hard his eyes widened and his mouth dropped. Kagome winced and immediately ducked her face again, flushing darkly.

...Well, fuck. It made so much sense now. Granted, this whole endeavor just became ten times more challenging, but it was too late to back out now. Besides, he couldn’t in good conscience allow her to continue thinking about herself like that when it was so obviously untrue.

Muttering a curse under his breath that had Kagome daring another glimpse at him, Inuyasha promptly stepped in close to her and ignored her quiet gasp of surprise before knocking her arms out of the way and hooking a claw in the collar of her shirt. Too late Kagome realized what he was going to do and before she could utter any sort of protest Inuyasha swiftly drew his hand down and sliced the garment right down the middle. Stunned and blushing up a storm, Kagome could do nothing as he yanked the shirt the rest of the way off and tossed it carelessly behind him onto the table.

While Kagome stood there with her arms over her chest and berated him for ruining her shirt, Inuyasha finally got his first good look at her and damn did he like what he saw. She was fucking perfect with a flat, trim belly that tapered into shapely hips and sender thighs encased in tight spandex shorts. Her skin was smooth and creamy and his hands suddenly itched to roam over her figure but he kept them to himself; he figured ignoring her wishes and destroying her only cover was pushing it enough as it was and he needed her to trust him.

From what he could see of her chest behind her arms, her breasts were small but that didn’t matter; a push-up bra or corset could do fucking wonders and before his mind had the chance to travel in a decidedly less than pure direction, Inuyasha said four words that promptly drew Kagome’s tirade to a screeching halt.

“Kagome, you’re fucking perfect,” he told her sincerely and perhaps a tad bit impatiently but she refused to hear it, adamantly shaking her head and denying his claim. Frowning he grabbed her hands kept her from hiding herself, tightening his grip when she tried to pull away.

“No, listen to me, I’m serious. You have absolutely fucking nothing to be ashamed of, Kagome. You’re stunning with a fucking rocking body and I’ll say it every goddamn day if I have to until you believe me, but what I see before me is nothing short of beautiful.”

When still she wouldn’t look at him and kept shaking her head, Inuyasha growled and gently grasped her chin in his fingers, tilting her face up and her sharp gasp went ignored as he continued, “Confidence is a key factor in this sort of thing, babydoll. You move the way you do because you don’t have any; you think you’re not sexy and that’s sorta the whole point I’m going for here. If you wanna do this, you’re gonna have to start believing you can and the first step is being confident and comfortable in your own skin.”

Inuyasha suddenly sighed and some of the vehemence left his tone as he said a bit more gently, “Look, you have the physical requirements for this; you’re fit and I’m willing to bet you’re flexible as hell. There’s really nothing stopping you but you and if you really do want this like you told me, then you need to stop this embarrassed shit and either tell me to fuck off and go home, or look me in the eye and fucking commit.  I don’t half-ass things, Kagome; I’m gonna work you into the fucking ground until I think you’re ready and if you think you can’t do this, tell me now. Like I told you before: I don’t give my time to quitters.”

Kagome flinched and he grit his teeth but didn’t take his words back. He wanted to help her, he truly did, but she needed to help him by trusting what he said and doing what was necessary. He may have been a bit too harsh, but he couldn’t help it. Most of the people he dealt with on a daily basis were pretentious celebrities that liked to throw around large amounts of cash just because they could and it was required of him to be a hardass to get through their self-absorbed bubble of fame in order to get to the nitty gritty of things. Most of the time it was received well, but occasionally he’d get the bored up and coming rock star that got too comfortable in their lifestyle and became nothing more than a spoiled brat and they ended up bowing out before any of the real work began. It was a giant pain in the ass and a huge waste of his valuable time, which was why he was so strict on who he decided to take on as a client.

He was one of the most respected, successful, and coveted producers in the whole fucking country. He was allowed to be choosy, goddammit.

Gently sweeping his thumb across her chin, Inuyasha waited to see what she would do, not afraid to admit to himself that he hoped she wouldn’t back out. He didn’t understand his strong desire to help her, not to mention his very strange urge to protect her at all costs, but he didn’t dwell on it. Kagome was different than any of the other woman he’d ever met; she was soft, innocent, untouched by the harsh realities of the world and despite having some evident self-image issues, he suspected that she was utterly breathtaking when she flourished and he wanted so badly to witness that. He wanted to be there when she shined, when she made that bitch Kam-whatever eat her words and that was when Inuyasha decided he was going to do something he’d never done before in any of his client’s routines. 

Of course he needed to get her to agree to it first, but he was confident he could wear her down even if she did disagree at first. She may be stubborn, but he was as bullheaded as they come and was oftentimes told he didn’t know when to give up. It was one of his best qualities that contributed to his popularity among producers and he wasn��t afraid to let anyone know.

Now if only Kagome had half that confidence...

Inuyasha was already cooking up a few ideas while he waited for her to make her decision when finally, finally, Kagome lifted her head, those beautiful ocean eyes locked with his, and the cautious hope in them was nearly his undoing. Without even realizing it his expression softened and he gave her that last push she needed to make her decision.

“Trust me, Kagome,” he murmured and daringly brushed his thumb across her bottom lip, watching the flush spread across her cheeks and hearing her breath hitch in her throat. “Just trust me and I promise you won’t regret it. Alright?”

Kagome’s eyes widened and she studied him quietly, her eyes searching his face, his eyes for what he hadn’t a clue, but apparently after another moment she found it because the corners of her mouth lifted up into a small, timid smile, she sucked in a breath, and then she gave a barely perceptible nod.

“Okay,” she breathed and officially sealed her fate.

Inuyasha grinned. “That’s my girl,” he said and had the insane urge to kiss her forehead. “Now let’s get this show on the road; it’s late, I have a meeting at 9 am, and I want to at least go over the basics before we call it a night. Sound good?”

Hardly believing she was actually going through with this, Kagome closed her eyes and nodded again. She could trust him. She could trust...wait a minute, what even was his name?

“What’s your name?” she blurted out as he restarted their practice song and golden eyes cut her way at the question.

He gave her a crooked grin and his eyes flashed wickedly. “It’s Inuyasha, babydoll, but I’m more commonly known as Sha.” He cocked a brow at her and watched Kagome’s face go from blank as she attempted to place his name to instant recognition, eyes going wide and mouth dropping in astonishment.

“Y...you’re...” she breathed, apparently having trouble articulating her thoughts, and Inuyasha chuckled. Usually it annoyed him when someone was so starstruck they could barely speak, but strangely with Kagome he found it completely endearing.

“Yeah,” he affirmed, raising his brows. “I admit, I’m a little surprised you didn’t recognize me. The ears usually give it away.” He wiggled them for emphasis and he caught her quiet giggle.

Her smile was equal parts sheepish and apologetic. “I don’t really watch TV and I’m not really invested in the entertainment world, either.” She shrugged.

Inuyasha stared at her. God, she was so pure he felt as if just standing next to her would somehow taint or blemish her. He’d done some shady shit in his past, and he was by no means innocent now, and for the first time in his life he felt inadequate and quite suddenly wanted to take a shower, as if that would help wash off his sins and dirty deeds.

“Well,” he drawled and reached back to wake her phone’s screen. “After tonight, babydoll, consider yourself invested.”

He hit play and the first notes of their practice song drifted out of the speakers.

Instantly Kagome recognized it and she frowned. “I thought we weren’t using this song.”

The silver-haired choreography shrugged and grabbed her hand to tug her a little closer. “We’re not, but it’s got a good enough melody to use as a practice song. We’ll start with something slow first that you’re comfortable with and then work our way up to faster paced songs that are similar to what you’re gonna use for the competition. Sound good?”

Releasing a steadying breath, Kagome briefly closed her eyes and then nodded, resolute. “Let’s do this.”

He smirked. “That’s what I like to hear. And now, lesson one.”

Without warning Inuyasha spun her around so he back was facing his chest and used his foot to nudge her legs a little farther apart. He slid his hand around to splay across her lower stomach and he felt her immediately tense up. Expected, which was why this was a good place to start.

“When I was watching you dance earlier,” he began and placed his other hand on her hip. “I noticed you were thinking way too hard on how to move, where to put your feet and all that. You need to relax. Let your body think for you, let it move on its own. You kept stumbling and tripping earlier because you were so tense and you were so busy trying to command your body to move the way you wanted it to that you ended up looking like a robot.”

He leaned his face down so his mouth hovered next to her ear. “So breathe, Kagome,” he said and smiled when she released the breath he was sure she wasn’t even aware she’d been holding. “Dancing is supposed to be fun. It ain’t rocket science.”

Reminding herself that she had to trust him – he did this for a living, after all – Kagome did as she was instructed and took a few moments to just breathe, closing her eyes and trying to clear her mind. She was highly aware of his hands on her hip and stomach but surprisingly enough the not so unpleasant sensation was easy to get used to. Her lips lifted into a slight smile as she slowly relaxed, listening to the music, allowing the smooth beat to ease the tension from her muscles.

“Thatta girl,” Inuyasha murmured behind her and squeezed her hip once in approval. “Alright, now listen to the beat...move with it...don’t think about it, Kagome, listen to the song and let it command you, not the other way around.”

“I am,” Kagome huffed, her brow furrowed slightly as she attempted to sync her hips with the beat of the music.

“No, you’re not,” Inuyasha insisted and closed the slight gap between them, stepping in close to press his chest flush against her back and yanking her ass into the cradle of his hips. She gasped, but he ignored it as he said, “You hear it, but you’re not listening.”

With his hands and his own body, Inuyasha moved her the way he wanted her to, guiding her hips from side to side as his own did the same, allowing her to feel and not merely hear what he was saying.

“See,” Inuyasha rumbled in her ear and Kagome shivered, willing her heartbeat to calm and the fierce blush on her face to recede as. “Don’t just listen with your ears, listen with your body. As cheesy as that sounds,” he added and smiled when she released a breathy laugh, gratified when she finally allowed herself to be taken by the beat and let the music command her.

With her eyes closed and so in tune with the melody wrapping around her body, letting it dictate her movements, Kagome was barely aware of Inuyasha stepping back, though he kept a light grip on her hips. She didn’t even understand how, but suddenly it was so easy to move with the rhythm of the beat and soon she lost herself to the notes of one of her favorite songs, smiling now as she danced without a care. It wasn’t a chore, it wasn’t something she felt she had to do at all costs, but a deep desire she hadn’t even been aware she’d harbored.

Standing a few feet away from her, arms crossed and a satisfied grin on his face, Inuyasha watched with half-lidded eyes as she danced like no one was watching, losing herself to the music and even singing along to the lyrics. It was obvious she’d forgotten he was even there, but that was okay. That’s what he’d wanted, for her to forget everything and just have fun, if only for a few minutes.

All right, so he could admit, this wasn’t really a lesson so much as a warm up. He’d caught a few brief glimpses of it earlier when he’d told her to show him what she had, but watching her now, taking in the graceful movements of her body and the smooth way she transitioned each step, it was obvious to him that Kagome was a natural. She knew what to do, or at least her body did; she just needed some fine-tuning, is all, an upgrade to an already seamlessly working piece of machinery. They still had a long way to go of course, but perhaps it wouldn’t be as challenging as he’d originally thought.

He was suddenly really looking forward to the next month or so.

The song ended a moment later and Kagome stood there, legs akimbo, chest popped and shoulders back and her face was beautifully flushed with a bright smile spread across her face. He was gratified to see she didn’t even seem to be that much out of breath either, a testament to her strength and agility, another thing that would make this easier for both of them.

The sound of clapping drew her attention and Kagome turned her head to find Inuyasha standing a little ways a way, a satisfied grin on his face as he clapped, obviously pleased with her performance. Suddenly giddy Kagome giggled and gave an exaggerated bow, sweeping her arms around behind her and she heard his amused chuckle.

“That was great, babydoll,” he praised and ambled toward her. “You’re a fucking natural and with a little guidance from yours truly, we’ll have both men and women drooling after you and you’re gonna show up that bitch Kam-what’s-her-face so good she won’t be able to show her face on campus for fucking weeks.”

With big blue eyes glinting with cautious hope, Kagome peered up at him with a hesitant smile as butterflies abruptly took flight in her belly.

“You really think so?” she asked, for the first time daring to believe that she could do something better than Kamlyn, daring to believe that she could be better, period.

Inuyasha stopped in front of her and smirked arrogantly.

“I know so. Alright, now I’m gonna show you a few basic moves and I want you to follow my lead...”

Part 2

[yuseirra]

This can be something personal but soon after I made a text post about taking care of eyes, I got a phone call from my parents. They’ve set up an appointment, and I may be getting an eye surgery tomorrow! We’re checking it to see if my eyes are fit for it and If all goes well, I wouldn’t have to wear my glasses anymore so that’s great. Since it’s about the eyes, however, I guess I’m feeling a bit nervous on how it’d turn out. It will turn out okay, but for one thing, I wouldn’t be able to use any electronic devices (watch TV, use phones or draw using my tablet and all that) for like a week! How will I live without all that, not that it’d be a big issue in the long run, but it will be pretty boring... Of course, I’ll miss drawing too. I felt that way when I was away due to my studies. And what if, just what if this could have an effect on how I see things in the future as well like how precise I could see things? Would I still be able to continue drawing the way I have?

While thinking through all that, I ended up examining the way I felt about drawing in general through my stream of consciousness. In short, I believe I really am fond of the process! I have a lot of fun, and I want to get better at it. Why though? I’m nowhere near as good as a lot of artists I see. I’ve drawn for years and I’m still not sure if I could call myself as one, even. Moreover, the path I’m currently taking has really little to do with art. It could be a waste of time for a person like me to draw, so to speak. Perhaps this is one of the reason why I feel a little anxious when I sit down to draw. I feel that I shouldn't be doing this because I’m not being productive. I’m not gaining so much. Would this help my career in any way? Would it be useful? Why am I spending so much time and effort on something that I am not good at? Am I doing the right thing, spending hours and hours on something that does not directly affect me in achieving goals regarding the road of success?

Yes, I think about these things a lot in my head. It’s not just me either. One way or another, I believe everyone who draws has a sense of insecurity may they be professional or not. I still remember getting some messages from years ago, that’s said something along the lines of “yusei, you’re so positive! It makes me happy watching you!” “you’re so brave on posting your art online where everyone can see!” and I was also happy that I could be an encouragement, or make someone’s day a little brighter, but as a person, I’m not sure if I can call myself having either of those traits so confidently. I may appear as positive because I don’t want to show all the doubts I have going on my head. I just don’t talk about it because it is of little use, I rather just make another drawing than worry about that. As for being called brave for posting art here and on other social media, I can do it because I was able to feel safe due to a lot of kind friends and supporters I’ve met, and because of the urge to share was way greater than keeping things to myself. It’s because people have been kind to me that I could keep posting! I could go on and on about the doubts I have and all the inferiority complex I have towards my art but this isn’t what I wish to talk about here,

I just felt like saying that despite my skills or talent, I still really like drawing! I can sit down for twelve hours straight staring at my monitor picturing about the things I want to draw, cry over how bad the proportions are, look at other people’s paintings and get inspired, and draw out my feelings and thoughts till my whole arm and thumb aches, even risking my finger getting a lil twisted on the edge. When I am drawing something, I feel happy and I don’t have to worry about anything while I'm absorbed in the process. Although making art, or keeping my social media up wouldn’t directly affect me on getting a job or excel on my studies, it’s been helping me cope, and it’s helped me to reach out, or be reached out to, a whole lot of great people. It might not be miracles for some but I consider some of the things that have happened to me here as small miracles. I never thought my drawings could be loved anywhere until I started posting. When you actually start sharing, those kinds of worries just start fading away. If you genuinely enjoy something, it shows. I feel that way at least.

There are a lot of things that I have to work on regarding art. I know my weaknesses, and of what I could improve on. And yet I am proud of it, because of the fact that I haven’t given up till now. Of all I’ve accomplished, no matter how small they are, I’ve still made steps that I could see for myself! Who cares if it’s not worth it? In fact, I think it’s been helping me through different ways working as one of the building blocks for me as a person. It’s been sustaining me and given me quite a bit of mental boost and support. Most of all, I’m really grateful that my drawings have been able to be a medium for me to communicate with people. It’s like getting a cool extra language to talk! Really..it’s wonderful to think of it that way. Neither do I think my art is all bad. There are certainly things I like about it and what I consider as strengths. If I hadn't have anything I liked about it I wouldn't have continued in the first place. No boasting, but I think my artstyle is cute!// It’s been developed to portray my own feelings and my stories to tell and on that aspect, it’s been doing its job pretty well over the years.

To all the friends, mutuals, followers and viewers who’s been seeing my art, thank you for sticking around with me and for reading and interacting with my posts. It’s given me lots of memories I could look back and reminiscence, smile at and I’m always grateful for having been able to meet all of you. Regardless of how good I am, I’m only going to keep drawing! Because I love it! I’ve come very far to stop drawing now at this point anyway and through improving, I wish to be able to communicate better through this medium. I hope you all also have fun with the things you’re passionate about, and make lovely achievements all the way. Don't worry about having to be good because life is short and chances don't come by often. Do it when you feel happy and when you can! Also, stay in good health! My bad eyesight is mostly due to hereditary reasons but still, take care of your health in fields that you can control so that you will not need medical care! It costs a lot of time, money and it probably hurts you, too.

Three sentence summary: I love drawing. I will keep on drawing. Thank you for seeing my drawings, I love all of you and I wish you well on the things you aspire.

Thank you! 

[daniellethamasa]

Hey all, Dani here.

I love talking about books. It’s the reason why I started this book blog, but over the years I’ve tried to balance my love of reading with all of my other geeky passions and hobbies. Occasionally that means posting about non-bookish things on here. Honestly this is more like my little corner of the geek universe. Today is one of those days where I just feel this huge need to talk about not quite as bookish things.

I say not quite because today I’m talking about shows that I’ve been binge-watching or re-watching quite recently. However, I can also say that they all have books attached to them, so I’ll talk about both the show and the books that go along with it.

It’s kind of a shorter list, but I’m probably going to gush about most of these for a little bit so it’ll still be a decently sized post.

First off, I have to talk about “The Good Place.” This show just finished its four season run recently, and I’ve somehow managed to avoid spoilers for the season finale, which is really impressive. I’m in the middle of season 3, so I’ll have to wait a little bit to be able to watch the final season, but you guys, this show is utterly amazing! The way it is able to balance all of these deep philosophical and ethical lessons and debates with ridiculous randomness and hilarity, as well as having massively compelling characters is just wonderful.

The character development is pretty exceptional overall as well. Watching these characters, who some of them are self-centered or obnoxious or arrogant or downright evil, learn and grow and change through all of these events that happen, and all of the ethics lessons that are presented to them, it’s just a delight to watch.

I don’t own this book yet, but come on, how cute is the idea behind it? A cookbook based on the show? Like, there are some pretty fun episodes around food and such throughout the show, so I’m excited to take a look at the book in the future.

Next, I’m going to mention one of my more recent manga/anime obsessions, and that is “Fruits Basket.” When it comes to reading I’m only through the third volume of the Collector’s Editions, which I think is like the first 9 volumes of the standard manga editions.

This story is just really cute, and like a lot of manga and anime I seem to enjoy, there is a fairly decent focus on food. It is a shojo manga, which is a story that is aimed more towards a teenage female audience, and the stories typically involve romance. This one follows a young woman named Tohru, whose mom recently passed away, and through a series of circumstances she ends up temporarily moving in with a classmate…only to learn that he and several other members of his family are possessed by the animal spirits of the Chinese Zodiac.

I just think that Tohru is so adorable and caring and compassionate, and watching how she interacts with members of the Sohma clan is really intriguing. I didn’t get into this series back when it was originally released (back in like 1999/2000), and didn’t even actually know it existed back then. I think the only manga/anime I really knew about back then was Sailor Moon and Cardcaptor Sakura, though I had heard of Dragon Ball Z and all that.

Anyway, I’m glad that Funimation decided to bring back the anime, mostly with the original cast as well. Much like what they did with Fullmetal Alchemist/Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, this new adaptation is supposed to follow the manga more closely. Now, considering I never watched the original series, I can’t say if that’s true or not. But based on images I’ve seen from both shows, I can say that the art and animation style has certainly improved over the past two decades, so that’s great.

I’m looking forward to continuing with this series and meeting the last members of the Zodiac, and seeing how Tohru living with a few of the Sohmas affects and changes them all.

My third current show obsession is “The Witcher.” Clearly I have to talk about this show, because I’m a little bit obsessed with it at the moment. I have the whole season downloaded on my phone so I can watch it anywhere/anytime. I own all of the books. We own a couple of the games.

The action in the show is phenomenal. Okay, yes, if you aren’t fully paying attention, the timeline in season one can be a little confusing, because there’s like three different timelines running at once for most of the show. I personally didn’t have any issues with it, though I know a lot of people complained about it. I enjoyed the costuming, and the magical special effects. The creatures were fantastic. There was a dragon in one of the episodes and he was glorious. Most of the creatures that Witchers hunt were delightfully creepy, which I thought was pretty darn cool.

I had tried to read the first book of stories twice before the release of the show and didn’t make it that far in, because while it was good, I still struggle with translated books. After watching the first couple episodes of the show, I picked up the book again and I was completely hooked. I don’t know what it was but all of the stories and characters and the world, it all just clicked for me, and now I just really want to binge-read the whole series, but at the same time, I want to savor the books…especially since we’re apparently not getting season two until at least early 2021.

Okay, fine, I have another manga/anime to talk about, and that’s “Black Clover.” Yes, I gush about this series pretty much every time I do a Manga Monday review for one of the volumes. I absolutely adore the characters in this show/series, and I’m excited about every time I get to enjoy more of their adventures.

Honestly, seriously, one of my absolute favorite parts about the Black Bulls squad of the Magic Knights is how they work together, and fight together, and stick up for each other, and defend each other, and how they never ever give up. They could be hurt and weak and be at the end of their magical ability, but if the people around them need protecting, the Black Bulls find a hidden reserve of strength and find a way to overcome any obstacle in front of them. It’s really awesome and inspiring.

Plus getting to watch the development of each character’s magic is really fun too. I’m completely caught up on the released volumes of the manga, but I have I think like 40 episodes or something of the anime to watch yet. I’ll be getting to that on my Funimation account next; I want to finish Fruits Basket first.

Finally, my obsession absolutely continues with one of my favorite shows, which you can watch for free on YouTube or you can just listen to as a podcast, and that is “Critical Role.”

Again, this is another one of those fandoms that I’ve talked about a number of times on this blog. I’ve been to three of the Gen Con live shows, I own a whole lot of merchandise, and I just love how this show sparks the creativity of so many and helps to inspire a lot of us out there.

I just, I really connect with the characters, each of them in different ways, but you do grow to really love them, and it’s all improv, and some of what happens is truly decided by rolls of the dice, so you never exactly know what to expect. But the characters and the stories are just complex and they get deep, and sometimes you’re watching it and you get emotional about it. If you’re like me then you get emotional sometimes while thinking about the characters and the story lines. Like, you know, right now while I’m typing this. I’m probably not helped by the fact that I have the show on in the background as I try to get completely caught up. –not having the best internet at home has meant that Damian and I have fallen quite a bit behind. It’s like if we don’t get to watch it live each week that we sometimes forget that we need to watch it.

There are a number of books that can be enjoyed from this fandom. There’s the art books, the prequel comics, a third party 5th edition setting book, and coming in March an official 5th edition setting book. So there’s so much out there to expand the massive world that Matthew Mercer has created and it’s fantastic.

All right, that is all from me for today. What are some shows that you are currently watching/obsessed with? Let me know in the comments, and I will be back soon with more bookish content.

Recommendations: Shows I’m Loving Right Now Hey all, Dani here. I love talking about books. It's the reason why I started this book blog, but over the years I've tried to balance my love of reading with all of my other geeky passions and hobbies.

[sqsupernova]

Author Post — KizuRai

We sat down with @kizurai to talk about Rain World, their process, and their Supernova adventure!

What inspired your story?

Listen. I was stuck in traffic on my way home from work one day, and it was pouring rain – as it does in Seattle, or anywhere near the northwest – and I thought to myself, “What if- but rain?”

No, but seriously though, I really was stuck in traffic and I wondered what would happen if rain could eat through materials. I would’ve been just stuck there, with nowhere to go and just melted there. Which is, okay, it’s morbid but I mean I wrote a post-apoc, what did you expect?

That and also I took inspiration from this indie game called <i>Rain World</i> (where I got the title if you couldn’t tell) and it… honestly there’s almost zero resemblance but I loved the concept of lizard monsters and the pressure of the rain killing you and having to run shelter to shelter. Like I said, kinda resembles my fic but not really?

Anyway, my fic is not frightening I swear!

How do you form your stories? Do you outline beforehand or write by the seat of your pants? Do you write linearly or out of order?

Outline? hAHA I tried, I honestly did try considering that was one of the requirements for the first draft: to at least have an outline written out (although it's a little more than that, be sure to read the rules lol). So I did write one, but then I threw that right out the window when I started writing because these ridiculous characters just don’t like to stick to script.

What I did do was write a bunch of random blurbs and facts about the world (which I never ended up using) and drew out some concept art and some floor plans, because I'm nothing if not a thorough game developer LOL

I also cannot for the life of me write out of order. If I do I just end up throwing it out even though I like it; I end up not being able to fit it anywhere.

So yes, I write linearly (not by choice) and write at the seat of my non-pants (because I hate wearing pants) and I just sit there, staring at a blank google doc until inspiration hits, or lightning strikes, whichever one comes first, and I just write and force myself to write and I keep writing until the stupid thing is done.

What in your fic are you most proud of?

Um, that it’s done? I’m still surprised I completed something, surprised I even managed 74k of words, like was I possessed?

Serious answer though, I wrote like up to chapter 9 and realized I didn’t add in any relationship stuff and Emma and Regina’s relationship went from 0 to 100 in a chapter. So I had to go back and sprinkle their relationship here and there. I guess that’s probably what I am most proud of, lmao, that I managed to make swanqueen for a swanqueen fic lol

Oh, and also making everyone hate me because of my fic. That is a joy.

Is there anything you'd change now?

Serious talk, which means this part is uninteresting but:

The thing is, we’re always changing, we’re always moving forward in one way or another, our minds are in constant movement. Therefore, whenever I look back on my old stuff I always get caught up in “god, that’s awful, why did I write that?” or “maybe I could’ve done better” and I’m sure I could if I spend the time to do so but why?

It’s done, if I’m really upset about something I should change then I’ll write a new story and do better because we grow with experience and each story writers churn out is like gaining experience points, eventually we’ll level up and maybe gain an extra skill.

The point I’m trying to get at is that, sure, there are plenty things I would love to change – burn the whole thing in a fire if I could (believe me I wanted to a couple of times) – but instead of looking back I’m going to look forward and make something better than the last. 

How do you deal with writers' block?

So I follow Emily Andras on twitter and she mentioned something that I took to heart; she said something along the lines of ”writer's block is for amateurs” and I got confused and a little angry at first but let me say, I think I get it. Even though I do get writers block and I’m screaming at my screen hoping for something to happen, I wonder what professional writers do when they’re on a deadline?

I think they power through.

And even if you think what you’re writing is terrible and it might never make it into the final copy, it’s still something, it’s still words on a page and sometimes just writing something might spark something. That’s basically what I did, I kept powering through even though I hated every second of it, but I managed to get it done on time (early actually because I remembered the deadline day wrong, but let’s not talk about that) and it’s done. Period.

Also, deadlines. Those help a lot.

Was this Supernova experience different than your typical writing experience?

As mentioned above I really think the deadlines helped me. I’ve always been kinda the ‘goal-orientated but lazy otherwise’ type so on my own I’m pretty much whatever and I have a billion WIPs but forcing myself to write and do daily sprints really helped. There’s also a bunch of other writers facing the same thing as me so we can all suffer together.

Any advice to other writers who might want to write a longfic, or participate in Supernova next year?

You know what, don’t listen to all the other authors telling you outlines are the key LOL sure, go ahead and write one if that helps you, but really you gotta find the process that works for you. It’s a little bit like education, everyone learns differently, everyone has a different way of doing things.

Oh but, yeah, listen to me on that ‘forcing yourself to write’ thing, you might hate yourself, or you might hate me while doing it – most likely me but whatever – but just get words on a page.

Also, don’t be so anxious about sharing your work. Your fic is not representative of your self-worth. Don’t write because you want validation or have everyone praise you. Write because you enjoy it and get happy if even one person reads your fic and loves it because these things tend to turn out like a popularity contest and a lot of new writers get lost in the crowd (I mean, like 6-8 things will pop out daily so unless you have a following already, people may or may not leave you until a lot later) so

1) Don’t be upset if you don’t receive any comments until a month (or 5) later 2) Be happy you finished something! Look at what you’ve accomplished rather than focus on the extraordinarily high expectations you’ve put on yourself 3) Have fun

That’s it for me on advice. #fluffwriter signing out.

You can read Rain World on AO3, along with KizuRai’s other works! And don’t forget to feed the author!

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: The Midnight Train Going Anywhere

Summary: Writer Belle French meets Nicholas Rush on the Night Riviera sleeper train, and proceeds to try and work out everything she can about him without actually talking to the man. After all, he'd make a very interesting character in her next book. Rushbelle.

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling picture prompt, available here.

Rated: G

CW: Mild blood/gore (nosebleed)

Note: The Night Riviera is a real service from London Paddington to Penzance. It leaves London just before midnight and takes over 7 hours. I've been on it.

=====

The Midnight Train Going Anywhere

Her father would have fifty fits if he knew that she was travelling alone in the middle of the night, but Belle didn't care. The train was almost empty, only one other person in her carriage. It was the slow sleeper down to Penzance, and most of the travellers would have booked beds in the other carriages. Belle had never been able to sleep properly on trains, so she didn't even try, sticking with an ordinary seat. Much cheaper, too.

She had always preferred travelling at night. During the day there were too many other people around, chasing connections and losing their luggage, and just generally behaving badly. At night, everything was calmer, quieter, and there was room for Belle to breathe and daydream. At the beginning of the journey she'd taken out her notebook, intending to write until they reached Exeter at least, but she hadn't even opened it yet. She glanced over at the man in the carriage with her, across the aisle, a couple of seats down. He was paying her no attention, papers strewn over the table and a huge cup of coffee beside him. He was totally absorbed in what he was doing, and Belle found herself making notes about him. He looked like an academic of some kind. She'd met enough of them during her travels to know the type. He wasn't dressed sharply enough to be a businessman, and he seemed to eschew technology like laptops and tablets in favour of good old-fashioned pen and paper. Much like her, in fact.

He was in his forties, Belle guessed, his dark hair beginning to show a little grey at the tips and temples. Studious brown eyes behind his glasses. He'd make an excellent character in her new book. It was almost something out of Brief Encounter, two strangers meeting on a train. Then again, it could also be something out of Strangers on a Train, and that was a lot less romantic a thought. She pushed it to the back of her mind and continued her appraisal of him.

He seemed completely oblivious to her presence and her eyes on him, and she appreciated being able to scrutinise him like this. Everyone else that she had observed as a character study had the usual sixth sense when it came to being watched, and she'd often been caught staring and ended up looking away quickly, breaking her concentration.

He was a good-looking man with a maturity in his features, and for a moment Belle felt a pang of disappointment when she saw the wedding ring. She wondered what his partner was like, trying to paint a mental picture. Probably academically inclined like he was, but opposites attracted after all. If he was in sciences, then his partner would be in arts. He looked like a scientist. Belle would be annoyed now if he turned out not to be. Still, the character that she was building around him was a mathematician, his head full of numbers and not a lot of practical sense. This man looked practical, though. If heavily caffeinated.

The guard came into the carriage to check tickets and tell them that the buffet was closing in ten minutes. Although he seemed oblivious to everything else, the man definitely heard that, and he jumped up, draining his coffee cup and heading out of the carriage for a refill. Belle looked around. She was definitely alone now, and she chanced to creep over to her travelling companion's table and take a look at what he was working on.

She'd guessed correctly - maths, or science of some sort. There was a stack of papers that were obviously graded work, and he certainly didn't flinch in failing his students. The rest of the notes seemed scattered and haphazard, one long run-on equation that stretched over several bits of paper, including a few napkins. His ticket showed that he was travelling from Oxford, and Belle wondered why he was going all the way to Penzance.

"Can I help you?"

She looked up with a start to find that she'd been sitting there opposite his seat for longer than she'd realised, and the man was back. He didn't look put out by her presence, more just mildly amused, and he slid back into his seat with his coffee, taking out his pencil and going back to his equations. The faint scent of cigarette smoke hung around him, and Belle wondered how he was going to get on, trapped in a smoke-free train for seven hours.

"I'm sorry. I'm too nosy for my own good. I'll leave you alone. I just wanted to see what was gripping your attention so much..." She tailed off on seeing his face, the tiniest quirk of a smile amid the increasing annoyance. "I'll leave you alone."

"By all means stay, just don't be distracting."

Belle shook her head and scuttled back to her own seat. Her eyes never left him. The brief interaction had only piqued her interest, because in addition to everything else that she had found out about him, she now also knew that he was very Scottish.

Belle put her notebook down and buried her nose in her novel instead, determining to think no more about him. She nearly succeeded; she’d got three chapters in and had just about forgotten his presence in the carriage with her until he let out a rather squashed and flat-sounding sigh, and she couldn’t help but glance over at him.

He was leaning back in his seat, eyes closed, attempting to staunch what was an incredibly impressive nosebleed.

“Lean forward.” She didn’t even know why she’d spoken; it wasn’t any of her business how he chose to treat nosebleeds which, if his expression was anything to go by, were a common occurrence.

He cracked open one eye and looked at her.

“Lean forward, not back,” she repeated. “If you lean back then the blood starts running down your throat.”

He gestured awkwardly to the paperwork spread out over his desk, indicating that he did not want to drip on it, and Belle found herself leaving her seat and going over to his table, making to move the papers there. He batted her hand away.

“You’ll ruin it,” he muttered, and his voice would have been snippish had it not been so nasal. As it was, he just sounded like a sulking child. Belle rolled her eyes and took his arm, guiding him over to an empty table. Once there was no danger of his precious paperwork being ruined, he dutifully leaned forward and accepted the wad of tissues that Belle handed to him.

“Do you get nosebleeds a lot?”

He nodded. “Too much caffeine and too little sleep. Ever since…”

The sentence tailed off and was left dangling ominously, but Belle didn’t push it, and they did not speak again until the worst of the blood flow seemed to have stopped. She still felt that she ought to make some attempt at conversation. The moment was a tricky one, a moment of weakness and vulnerability for her travelling companion, and everyone reacted to such moments differently. She wanted to say something, but she didn’t want to make an already awkward situation worse, and draw attention to the sudden intimacy of finding oneself in such a state in front of a stranger.

“I guess the combination of caffeine and insomnia explains why you’re in this carriage rather than in a sleeper berth,” she said eventually.

He nodded, moving the wad of tissue away from his nose and checking gingerly that the oozing had stopped.

“Never could sleep on trains anyway,” he grumbled. “I thought that there would be less distractions on the sleeper and I’d get more work done.”

“Same.”

He looked at her, and gave a huff of dry laughter. “I guess I’ve ruined our plans there then.”

Belle shrugged. “I wasn’t getting much work done to start with. At least I have an excuse for not working now.”

The man absented himself, leaving the carriage to go to the bathroom and clean up. Belle stayed sitting at the spare table. Now that the moment was over, she probably ought to go back to her own seat and get on with writing. He probably wouldn’t appreciate her still sitting there when he got back, especially since up until the unfortunate nosebleed he had seemed to be rather productive.

Nonetheless, she did not move, and when he returned, he came to sit opposite her again rather than going back to the papers spread out over his table.

“Thank you for your help.” He was looking very embarrassed, but with a sort of resignation to it, and air of ‘well, this might as well happen’. “Sorry for snapping about the papers.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m the same if someone moves my things when I’m storyboarding plots.”

He raised an eyebrow. “An author?”

“Indeed, for my sins. Arts and sciences, forever destined to be at odds.”

“Would I have read any of your books?”

“That depends. Are you a fan of noir-style detective fiction?”

He shook his head. “Not really my thing.”

“Then probably not.” Belle held out a hand. “Belle French. Or I.L. Chevalier, if you ever do have an urge to read about detectives in trench coats standing under lamp posts smoking cigars in the rain.”

“Nicholas Rush.” He shook her hand.

“So, may I ask what takes you from Oxford to Penzance?”

Nicholas grimaced. “It’s not the kind of errand you share with strangers on a train.”

“Fair enough. I’m hoping to get some inspiration for my new book. Everything’s been set in the city so far, and I think I need a change of scene before it all becomes stale and samey.”

“Well, I hope that the journey proves fruitful.”

Belle smiled. “It has so far.”

There was a pause as Nicholas caught her meaning and he groaned.

“Please tell me that I’m not going to be murdered in the first chapter.”

“No, you’re safe for now, even though your nose did produce enough blood to be a veritable crime scene. The guard’s going to wonder what on earth happened.”

“My wife used to say the same. Every time she saw me with a bloody nose she’d ask who I’d pissed off this time.”

Being a writer, Belle was very good at picking up the nuances of language, and she had to wonder at the use of the past tense in reference to the wife. Still, she’d only just met the man, and as attractive as he was, it wasn’t her place to start asking questions.

The train slowly came to a stop, pulling into the first station, and Nicholas got up to go and sneak a smoke on the platform before it set off again. Belle took her cue to move back to her own seat, and she picked up her pen, words flying over the page as the new character took shape. Whatever the real circumstances were, fiction would always be her saving grace.

The rest of the journey was spent in silence, both of them stealing the occasional glance at each other, and smiling when their eyes met. There was something about being the only ones awake on a sleeper train, alone together in the witching hour, that gave them a certain camaraderie. By the time they were pulling into Penzance, daylight was streaming in through the train windows, and Belle was ready for her bed.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Nicholas,” she said as they collected their bags from the luggage rack and stepped off the train. She rummaged in her pocket. Maybe it was forward of her, but nothing chanced, nothing gained, and she held out her card. “If you ever need a friend in Penzance, look me up.”

Nicholas smiled. “I’ll do that.”

Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe they were destined to be strangers on a train who’d shared a night’s travel together and nothing more. Whatever came of it, however, Belle would always remember him. She clutched her notebook a little tighter to her chest. Her journey was already incredibly inspirational.