#calculations on lila's part

[bigfatbreak]

Since Fu and his methods have been kinda debated on in this fandom, I've just making sure. Is Marinette over-positiving her memories with Fu since she blames herself for him getting mind-wiped or would he be really scold her on recklessness and taking care of herself?

former. grieving his memory wipe is making any kindness he did seem to gleam like precious stars in her memory, which is making it hit that much harder. she's definitely spiraling around losing him right now, and not seeing the reality that he chose child soldiers to fight a supervillain. he really might've scolded her for being reckless, but nowhere near as lovingly as she's imagining he would - she's putting positive words in his phantom mouth because his loss hurts her more than she's willing to communicate, and its become the cornerstone of her isolation.

[anaargent]

You know season 4 yeah it was bad, and it made me so angry😭😭 and I want revenge, (delulul) so can you right something where reader finds out of five cheating on her, and her getting her little revenge, thank you (≧▽≦) (sorry if my grammar sucks)

Girl I totally loved this, hope you like it. contains slight suggestion of Diego x reader

MARRY MY HUSBAND

You sigh as you take another sip of the whiskey that Five had methodically stocked in your shared apartment. The thought makes you sick, your Five... or it was before his silent betrayal. You were fine, happy and unaware of the passionate acts of Five, your work and life partner, with none other than Lila, your sister-in-law, and a friend you held dear.

Oblivious to all of this until a few weeks ago, when you noticed that Five and Lila's days off had been modified, while you thought he was in some long-term affair, you did the obvious, investigated. But nothing prepared you for the scene you witnessed, a Five affectionately holding his sister-in-law in his arms, a sweet smile on his face as he gently rocked her in a restaurant, YOUR favorite restaurant, in the neighboring city. It was adorable, such a beautiful scene of two lovebirds in love.

You came up with crazy ideas to get revenge on the jerk, including throwing Five's body into the Seine River, to a simpler one like kicking his ass.

...

And here you were, at Diego's door, ready to use him as a pawn to knock Five off his damn pedestal "Holla, y/n! Where's Five?" Diego opens the door and smiles warmly. You were ready to manipulate your brother-in-law, but he was in front of you, pathetic as he wore a jellybean necklace, his hair was parted in two messy pigtails and his black outfit was covered in purple glitter "come in, come in, we were in the middle of an afternoon tea, you'll love it" he pulls you inside while three agitated children corner you with cute little eyes.

Five liked you for being calculating, rational and other adjectives that he saw as ideal in a partner, you considered yourself an equal. You bet he would take back his compliments when he saw you bent over in a small chair with an imaginary cup of tea.

After an endless afternoon, the little angels fell asleep from exhaustion "Thanks for helping with the mess, and sorry for dragging you into this" Diego says as he finishes cleaning up the mess in the living room "I wouldn't have the energy for the three of them alone"

"Don't thank me, they're so cute"you smile melancholy as you see the three children piled up, Gracie holding the twins protectively "Five and Lila are having an affair" you blurt out before you can explode with guilt.

You stare at Diego, the air tense as you watch the man's grateful species turn from confused to disbelieving "what?" he laughs incredulously.

" They...they're together"you look away from Diego, unable to maintain a rational facade as you watch Diego process everything. A pang of guilt hits you "I needed to tell you, I want to end that bastard...but I need you to agree, you have more to lose than I do"you say and see Diego look at his children, his lips in a thin line.

" Please go home y/n, it's already late" Diego sounds as polite as possible.

" I'll go... think about it" you say before leaving silently.

...

That was a few weeks ago, no sign of Diego. Five would come and spend a few days, always formal and distant as he talked about the cases he was working on, nonsense and more lies.

Then Diego was at your door, in the middle of the night, panting as if he had run a marathon, soaked from the torrential rain that was falling outside "Holla y/n" he tries to smile as you pull him inside.

"Are you crazy? You're going to catch a cold, come in, come in" you guide him to the living room and get a towel, quickly wrapping it around him.

" It was my fault, s/n" he says, trembling, you look at him, lost "Lila and Five... I... Lila wasn't happy, it was too much... the kids... work... the routine, she told me she was tired, I didn't hear her, I was only thinking about myself and the kids, I should have paid attention to her " he says everything at once, his shoulders still shaking from the cold, his voice weak, you didn't know if it was from the rain or emotional.

"Hey, hey" you try to sound affectionate, having no experience in supporting anyone, you sounded kind of robotic -but you tried, that's what counts, right? - "Come here" you pull him into a hug, it was clumsy and kind of strange, you didn't make physical contact with people, but Diego didn't seem to mind as he held you closer and sniffed softly " They betrayed us, Diego, you're a wonderful father. Routine hits everyone, but it's no excuse to stab anyone in the back" you patted his back.

" about your plan.."Diego steps away and looks at you, looking more composed, although his eyes were red "I'm in, what do I do?"

You try to contain the devilish smile that forms on your lips " All your little brother loves most is power.. I think he loves it more than his own family, we're going to take away his position at the FBI.

"But how are you going to do that? He's not like a Shellock from there?"

"he's...distracted" you try not to sound too suggestive of the fact that your boyfriend and his wife were, maybe at that exact moment, fucking each other " it means that his cases are open, he has a case, a big and old one, nobody solved it, I helped him with some clues. If someone solves the case, he loses the position he wanted" you smile and settle into the couch.

"okay... but who's going to solve it?" Diego asks, after a moment of silence he laughs, the first one you've seen in so many days, you missed that smile.

" You always wanted to go in there, Five never sent the letters Diego.."- Maybe it was a low blow, but you needed Diego by your side -

" what?" he asks looking disappointed, then gives a bitter laugh " I don't know why I still waited for him to really believe that I could get into the FBI"

"you have potential Diego" you pat his shoulder -were your comforting techniques better? " and you're going to walk into that damn office with a solved case"

You shake hands, smile and nod, sealing the little deal between you.

...

"What's going on here?"Five opens the doors aggressively, his irritated expression causing you immense pleasure even more when you notice Lila towing beside him.

You smile sweetly at your partner and your friend, walking towards then with your hands behind your back - someone solved the Alien case, everyone is impressed. Did you guys meet at the entrance? How great that we are all together"

"What? How? Who? - He cut the subject and looks around, examining the people, then looks at you again, suspicion filling his eyes " What did you do, s/n?" He approaches like an animal ready to tear its prey apart.

" Me? Nothing my dear, I would never do anything... behind your back, we're partners, right? No lies like you always tell me" you smile, seeing him narrow his eyes. It was worth every hour spent with Diego to solve that damn case, nothing would take away from you the sweet taste of seeing Five Hargreeves fall from the highest pedestal he placed himself on.

A part of you was still hurt, it was years of partnership, were you just a pastime for him? Didn't it mean anything? Before you could sink into the spiral of self-humiliation, Diego appeared with a huge smile

"oh Little brother, my dear wife, you didn't tell me you were in the secret service too, what an incredible knowledge. it's good to have all you here, it seems that we are now coworkers. I know we will get along well, don't pressure me too much, I'm new to this whole chief detective thing, but y/n was very kind and will accompany me until I adjust to the position - he puts an arm around your shoulders, the two of you watch with delight as Five and Lila finally realizes what was happening

Pt2:

https://www.tumblr.com/anaargent/763005744864985088/can-we-get-a-pt2-for-marry-my-husband-where-diego?source=share

[bagel-bird-ainsor]

Ghost trick spoiler thoughts I had while working on my most recent drawing

GT:PD SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT

Thinking about the process of Yomiel learning how to control his body again. I mean, when he took his body back from the morgue in-game, he got up and walked out pretty naturally. But what if it didn’t go so smoothly? He’s spiritually puppeting his own corpse around, and it’s probably a very different experience.

There’s a lot of bodily functions that we don’t necessarily *think* about; blinking, breathing, walking, etc.

So essentially what I’m picturing is Yomiel’s detachment from his body resulting in him being really uncanny (at least at first)

He zombie-walks at first, having to remember to keep his torso upright while manually moving one foot in front of the other. Even as he gets better at it, there’s still a stilted nature to his steps; never able to keep a steady walking rhythm.

Regaining his voice was the trickiest part. He had to learn what shapes to manipulate his throat and larynx into to formulate each sound. I feel like he’d sound like something out of the Mandela Catalogue, or similar horror content where an inhuman thing tries to mimic human voices. Once again, he gets better with practice, but there’s still something…off about him.

He never blinks, and why would he? He’s got the sunglasses on, so there’s no need to put in the effort. He never breathes, which most people don’t really notice unless they’re paying attention.

There’s a video game called Who’s Lila? that I heard about recently from a Jacob Geller video. In that game, you physically click and drag your characters facial features to form expressions, often to unsettling effect. I imagine it’s a similar process for Yomiel’s face. And without the ability to feel pain or damage his body, I can only imagine what expressions he could contort his face into without those limitations.

I like Yomiel as the cool, calculated, menacing presence that he is, but I also think the concept of what he is lends itself to the potential for uncanny imagery.

ANYHOOT; I just think it’s a cool concept to think about. Plus, there’s the added tragedy of his own body becoming such a foreign object to him, having to relearn things that were once second nature, and still not quite attaining a convincing visage of humanity. More traumatic experiences for Yomiel, why not.

If you read all that, thanks! And I’d love to hear any thoughts y’all have on the concept.

[badkitty3000]

Five and Lila are stuck in the Subway and since this is Lila's first apocalypse she has a major panic attack at the end of 6 years and Five calms her down, this is where she tries to come onto him but he firmly rejects her in a mixture of sweet, comforting, funny, asshole way.

I won't lie, my immediate reaction to this request was "NOOO", merely because I have been trying to avoid anything to do with this season and just generally pretending it doesn't exist. But then I started thinking about it and it was a really good idea. So, thank you, anon...you gave me some light at the end of the tunnel. Here is my take on this request as a nice little alternate scene instead of what we were given by the actual show.

You Made It Weird. Real Fucking Weird

2607 words, one-shot

Warnings: None. Zero Smut! Zero Romance!

“How long has it been now?”

“You just asked me that no more than two minutes ago.”

Lila lets out a long, dramatic whine and slides down the cement support beam of the subway station, drawing her knees up to her chest. “Two minutes? God, why does everything seem to take so long down here?”

There’s a pause and Five keeps quiet.

“So, how long now?”

“Jesus, Lila!” He sighs. “You really want to know?”

Lila nods sadly, her tangled hair hanging over her dirt-smudged face. “Yes.”

Five waits a beat because he knows she’s not going to like the answer. “If my calculations are correct, it’s been 6 years, 5 months, and 2 days.”

He watches as his partner in time-crime stares at him in disbelief. “But, that’s impossible. We can’t have been gone that long. I haven’t seen my own face in a while, but I can sure as bloody hell see yours and it’s still as smooth as a baby’s ass. That makes no sense!”

Five shrugs and looks guilty, although he’s not sure why. It’s not his fault time travel is so complicated. “Time travel is a finicky mistress. We just don’t seem to age on this train; I can’t explain it. There’s a lot of things I can’t explain, actually.”

Lila bangs her forehead against her knees a few times, making guttural groaning noises. When she looks up, it’s as if she has morphed into an entirely different person. She looks manic and scared, with her wide eyes and rapid breathing. She looks deranged. Five takes a small step back.

“Are you ok?” he asks dubiously.

Lila shakes her head. “No,” she says quietly. Then she scrambles up from the ground and starts yelling. “No, I’m not ok, Five! Of course I’m not ok! I’ve been away from my family for almost seven years!” Tears start welling up in her eyes. “My kids…I haven’t seen my kids in that long…oh my god…and Diego…” her voice trails off. After a second, her head whips in his direction again. “We need to go back, Five. I need to go back! Like right now!”

“What the hell do you think we’ve been trying to do? If I had a way back, I’d tell you, but I don’t.”

“No…no no no no…this cannot be happening. I don’t know what I was thinking. Five, my kids!” She stares at him with the most heartbreaking look on her face, the tears starting to quietly drip down her cheeks, leaving trails through the dirt smudges. Five’s demeanor starts to soften.

“Listen, I know this is terrible and I know you need your family. But the good news is, they don’t even know you’re gone. No time has passed for them.”

“How the hell do you know? You just said time travel was a judgy whore.”

“Finicky mistress, but sure, we can go with judgy whore. And I’m not sure on a lot of aspects of it, but that part I am sure of.”

That calms her a little bit and she takes a deep breath. “But…even if that were true and no time has passed for them, once we get back won’t that mean I’ll have aged by years in a matter of minutes? What if my kids don’t even recognize me? What if they’re scared of me because their mother is suddenly a haggard old witch with wrinkles and gray hair?”

Five shakes his head with a small smile. “Like I said, I don’t think we’re aging. I think it will be just fine.”

“You think?” She screams at him again. “Oh, well, that’s just great, Five! I’ll try not to worry that my entire life has been destroyed because you, the most self-centered asshole I have ever met, thinks it’ll be fine!”

“You know, if I recall, this was all your idea in the first place!” Five shoots back. “Because you were bored with your life and needed some adventure. So, who’s the self-centered asshole now?”

Lila stops and looks down at the ground. When she looks up, her face has changed again. It starts to crumble and she cries in earnest, her shoulders shaking with loud sobs. Five rolls his eyes and sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets, and looks around uncomfortably. Finally, he concedes and closes the few steps between them.

“It’s going to be ok,” he says softly. “I promise. I’ll get you back home.”

When he wraps his arms around her, pulling her into a hug, Lila collapses into him, her forehead pressed against his chest and her hands clutching onto the front of his wrinkled suit. She lets him take her full weight against him, eventually dragging them both down until they’re kneeling on the cold cement floor.

“Promise me,” Lila pleads in between sobs. “Promise me you’ll fix this.”

“I’ll fix it. I promise,” Five whispers as he rests his cheek on the top of her head.

They stay there for a few more minutes as Lila continues crying and Five rubs her back. Once she starts to settle down again, she sniffs loudly and Five can feel her body relax into his. He keeps holding her because he’s not quite sure when he should let go without seeming rude. In order to stave off the awkwardness that he feels is imminent, he clears his throat.

“You remember Dolores?”

There’s a pause. “You mean the mannequin you were shagging?”

Five grits his teeth. “Yes. That one.”

“What about her?”

“All those years it was just me and her. Forty-five years in my apocalypse and she was all I had. I loved her and she made me whole. We were a good team.”

Lila doesn’t say anything, but she adjusts herself and pulls away from Five. She shuffles back so that she’s leaning against the pillar again and Five joins her.

“I know how you feel, believe me. It’s horrible to be away from your family or the world you know. Not sure if you’ll ever make it back again, or if you’ll just die all alone with no one to grieve you. If I didn’t have Dolores…” Five swallows. “I don’t know what would have become of me. Humans just aren’t meant for solitary lives.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because,” Five starts warily, “You aren’t alone. And neither am I this time. We have each other. And even if I could not imagine a more annoying person to be stranded in a matrix of shitty timelines with, I’m still glad you’re here with me.”

Lila looks over at him and sees he’s actually smiling. She wipes away the remaining tears that have slipped down to her chin. “You are?”

Five nods. “It’s true. We can do this, Lila. Because we’re not alone. Anything is possible when you have someone you can count on.”

As Lila studies Five’s face, something in hers switches. She leans in, slowly at first, and then lunges toward him, grabbing the lapels of his suitcoat and pulling him in for a kiss. Five quickly jerks his head back and leans as far away as possible, until his body is practically flat on the ground. Lila’s hands are still clutching at his coat and she leans over him as he sits up on his elbows.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asks incredulously.

“I’m trying to kiss you, shithead. Now hold still.”

She leans in again, and Five risks a blink to get himself out of the situation as quickly as possible, leaving Lila falling forward onto the ground. He reappears a few feet away. The look on Lila’s face tells him she is not happy. And possibly insane.

“What is wrong with you?” Five barks. “Have you lost your damn mind?”

Lila stands up, brushing off her hands on her pant legs. “Apparently, I have! Because after your stupid, beautiful story, compounded with the fact that I haven’t touched a man in damn near seven years, you’re not looking so bad at the moment. And even if we do end up getting out of here, who knows how long that’s going to take. So, you’re all I have, as pathetic as that may be. Now, get over here so I can jump those puny little bones of yours.”

“Christ, Lila, get ahold of yourself!”

“What’s the matter? Scared that I’m a real woman?”

“No, actually there’s the small matter that you’re married to my brother. And you’re the mother of my nieces. And lest you forget, we have tried several times to kill one another in the past, so I’m thinking that may put a little damper on any romance between us. Shall I go on?”

Lila begins to look like she has a little more clarity again. “Right, that’s all true, isn’t it? You did once call me a sentient STD.”

Five gestures toward her and runs a hand through his hair in relief, letting out a loud exhale. “See? There you go!”

“Oh, god,” Lila starts, as she clutches her stomach. “I think I might be sick.”

“Alright, now you’re just being dramat—”

“No, no, really. I’m going to hurl,” she answers with a groan, doubling over and retching loudly.

Five crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. “Are you done?”

Lila spits a couple of times onto the ground and wipes her mouth with her coat sleeve. She nods. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Fabulous,” Five says dryly. Then he hands her a somewhat clean napkin he had stuffed in his pocket earlier. “Here.”

Lila takes the napkin and covers her mouth with it before looking guiltily at Five. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly.

Five’s posture relaxes again. “It’s ok. You just went a little off the deep end. It’s understandable. People in stressful situations do some pretty weird things.”

“Shit…I made it weird, didn’t I?”

Five chuckles. “I’ll get over it.” He leans cooly up against the cement pillar, crossing his ankles. “Besides, I now have some pretty great leverage over you. Now that you tried to fuck me.”

Lila gags again. “An attempted kiss is not the same as me trying to fuck you!”

Five’s mouth presses into a thin line and he cocks his head to the side, eyebrows drawn together. “Yeah…you tried to fuck me.”

“Oh screw you, you little…”

“See? There you go again,” Five interrupts, shaking his head sadly. “It’s like you just can’t help yourself. I do understand the impulse, but really Lila…keep it in your pants, ok?”

Lila’s face evolves from shock and rage to reluctant amusement, and soon she is cracking up laughing. Five joins her until they are both wiping tears from their faces.

“Oh, holy shit, I need to be locked up in the asylum again,” she wheezes out as her laughter starts to die down.

“That is a possibility,” Five says.

“I’m really sorry, Five.”

“I know. Are you going to be ok?”

Lila nods. “Yeah, I think so.” She plops herself down on the edge of the subway platform, swinging her legs. Five comes and sits next to her. “Thank you,” she says.

“No problem. I’m sure I’ll have a nervous breakdown next and you can talk me down from the ledge.”

“I really miss them, you know,” Lila says quietly. “I hope they don’t forget me.”

Five reaches over and snaps the elastic on the beaded bracelet that hasn’t left Lila’s wrist in 13-some years. “Don’t worry, they won’t. Diego loves you; he’d wait a thousand years for you. And you’re a good mom. Your kids know that.”

Another tear slips down her cheek. “Thanks, Five.”

There is a moment of silence, then Five looks over at her. “Now is the time you say something nice about me.”

Lila smiles and bumps him with her shoulder. “You aren’t so bad to have as an end-of-the-world partner.”

“Thank you.”

“You smell nice, too.”

“I smell nice?”

“Yeah. Even when we haven’t found a water source to wash off with for weeks, you never stink. I don’t know how you do it.”

Five laughs. “That may be the nicest compliment I have ever gotten, believe it or not.”

“You’re welcome.”

Lila leans in and rests her head on his shoulder. “God, I fucking hate this place.”

“Me, too.”

As if on cue, the loud whooshing noise of an incoming train can be heard approaching, and they blink against the bright headlamps that tear through the darkness.

“Well, here we go again,” Lila says as she takes Five’s hand and lets him pull her up to standing.

“Maybe this will be the last one,” he says with a shrug.

She grins at him. “Yeah, maybe it will be.”

As the doors open, Five gestures for her to go first. “I don’t want you checking out my ass,” he explains.

Lila snorts. “I can’t even if I wanted to, the damn thing’s so flat. Like a smashed hamburger.”

☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️

As the two of them stand on the porch of Lila’s house, she rings her hands nervously.

“You’re sure it’s only been a short amount of time for them?”

Five nods. “I’m sure.”

“And you’re sure I don’t look like I’m a hundred years old?”

“You inexplicably look just like you did when you left. I don’t even know how we got our old clothes back, but like I said, time travel is—”

“A whiny bitch,” she finishes for him.

Five sighs. “Right. Ok, are you ready?”

Lila nods. “Yep, ready.” She reaches for the door and then pulls her hand away. She turns to Five and shoves a finger in his face. “Don’t you dare say anything about what happened.”

Five smiles cruelly. “You mean when you tried to force me into having sexual relations with you? Oh, no I wouldn’t dare. Unless I have to, obviously. I don’t want to have to lie to my own brother, after all.”

“Damn it! Fine, you little shit stick. I will pay for one whole year’s worth of dry cleaning for your crappy little suits. Deal?”

“No deal. You called my suits crappy.”

“Ugh!” Lila throws her hands in the air and looks at the door nervously. “A year’s worth of dry cleaning and I’ll finally introduce you to that cute, single teacher at Grace’s school that you’ve been eye-fucking for the last year.”

Five thinks it over. “Deal.” He sticks out his hand to shake hers with a lopsided grin.

“Thanks again for everything. It’s been…interesting. But I’m glad I had you there with me,” she says with a smile.

“I’m glad you were there, too. We make a good team.”

As they step inside the house, Lila sees immediately that Five had been right. No one has aged. Nothing has changed. Her entire family is right where she had left them and she bursts into tears. Diego comes up, carrying one of the twins and gives her a quick kiss.

“Are you crying? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all,” Lila smiles through her tears. She reaches up and loops her arms around her husband’s neck, giving him a long and passionate kiss. “I just missed you, that’s all.”

As Diego stands there looking like a big dopey man in love, Five pipes up from behind.

“Hey Diego, good to see you again. Did you know your wife here tried to fuck m—”

Lila’s hand shoots out and without even looking, her fist rams right into Five’s crotch. As he gasps and wheezes, doubling over in pain, she smiles her wicked smile.

“Don’t mind him. Now what delicious thing did you make for dinner, darling? It smells amazing!”

[generalluxun]

Can you describe differences between Chloe and Lila’s hurting of people?

Keeping it super simple(maybe too simple)-

Lila hurts people for internal reasons. She wants something. She hates someone. She would find it amusing. Her hurtfulness is also calculated and meticulous.

Chloe hurts people for external reasons. Thoughtlessness, or maintaining a Status Quo for the most part. She's been taught How Things Should Be(TM) and acts accordingly. Her hurtfulness is usually spontaneous and reactive.

The easy way to see this distinction is that Chloe tends to be at her most kind(for her) when people aren't looking or when cruelty isn't expected of her.

Meanwhile Lila uses that time to plot some new pain to inflict on people.

[knifedancer]

Unsigned Gifts

Marinette has a secret admirer that keeps giving her really thoughtful gifts with no signature. But who is it?

OR

The five times Marinette received unsigned gifts and the one time she guessed who all the gifts were from.

AO3 Link

~~~First~~~

It all started one day when Lila and her lackeys broke her favorite marking pens. Not that she had any proof, except for the cruel light in Lila’s eyes and the way certain classmates weren’t meeting her eye – and hiding their hands in their laps – as she discovered the mess near the back of the classroom. Marinette had returned to the classroom after lunch and found the set of marking pens that her grandmother given her snapped in half, their vibrant inks smeared into a grotesque brown all over her desk surface. Luckily it wasn’t the whole set, but her favorite colors were in her bookbag for work on a commission… The bluenette hid her glistening eyes, not allowing a single tear to escape, as she began to wipe what she could from the desk. Her only response a silent nod when Madam Bustier, whom assumed it was not caused by someone else, told her that she needed to stay after school to make sure it was properly clean.

Honestly, she was glad to be alone after the last bell rang. The room was empty and silent except for the ticking clock on the wall. It gave her some private moments to let out those tears that she kept hidden – she would never let anyone see her cry from their bullying attempts – while she mindlessly went through the movements of scrubbing the tabletop. The gentle rasping sounds of the cloth against a hard surface and the familiar circular motions, long ingrained from cleaning parts of the bakery, gave the pigtailed girl a sense of Zen. It was oddly calming for all the emotions she had bottled up inside her earlier; at least she would not be visited by an akuma today. When she was finally done, she gathered up the empty cleanser bottle, dirty rags, and mangled pens to dump in the garbage near the teacher’s desk. Marinette gave one last sorrowful look at the pens, recalling all of the designs she had illustrated with them and the joy she had felt receiving them from Grandma Gina… On the bright side, they had not found her precious sketchpad to ruin. The designer wiped her damp cheeks with her jacket sleeve before dropping the pens into the can with a sigh. She trudged out of the class and down the steps, completely missing a pair of calculating eyes that watched her from the shadows…

~~

At the end of the next day, Marinette found a brand-new set of expensive Copic Marking Pens and five Bosco Wood pencils tucked into a simple pink ribbon bow on top in her locker, no note was attached. She looked around, feeling eyes watching her but not seeing anyone standing out in the crowd of random students gathering their things and chatting with friends. She reverently touched the beautiful clear case and hugged it to her chest, a small genuine smile gracing her features as she imagined all the stunning designs she would make, before tucking them safely into her bookbag. Perhaps one of her classmates felt bad for what happened and wanted to remain anonymous for fear of Lila? Whatever the case, these would be safer in her room.

~~~Second~~~

A few days later, Marinette sat at one of the tables in the library during lunch, off in her own world with her headphones playing the latest Jagged Stone single just loud enough for her to block out any passing sounds but low enough not to disturb others. She found it easier to focus on her work not surrounded by her former friends and the kindly librarian allowed her to eat at the tables so long as she didn’t make a mess. Today the designer was working on a dress for Clara Nightingale’s next award show appearance. The overall look was done but the colors… She tapped the end of her new oak pencil against her lips as she contemplated. The margins on the page were filled with tiny smudges of carefully erased notes. She pulled out her phone, looking through various Pantone color chip options through Qwant. Unfortunately, like with all electronics, the inherent settings and hardware capabilities altered the tones just slightly – making the decision even harder.

“I wish I could afford those Pantone Color chips…it would make it so much easier to choose,” Marinette murmured to herself with a sigh. “Perhaps I can buy one with the money Maman’s family will send me for New Year but that’s still months away...”

The five-minute warning bell signifying the end of lunch rang, pulling her from her thoughts. The girl packed her sketchbook and headphones away before sweeping any remaining crumbs and rubber shavings into her empty lunch containers, then headed off to class without a second thought to the other students meandering through the book stacks or lining up to check out something last minute. Her mind was elsewhere, dreaming of which colors would combine best to fit Clara’s style and still wow people on the red carpet, when she knocked into something solid. Marinette’s elbow was caught in a firm grip before she fell backward, finding herself hauled up against a familiar grey vest.

“Hello Angel, did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?” came the smug voice of the other blond boy in her class. Just great. She righted herself with a scoff, rolling her eyes at his ridiculous pick-up line while brushing imaginary wrinkles from her blazer. She knew he was only doing it to get a rise out of her but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of losing her temper.

“Not as much as when they kicked you out of hell, Felix,” she replied sweetly as she pulled away.

“Are you saying I’m hot?” he asked with a predatory grin.

“You’re about as hot as a dumpster on fire and only half as pleasant!” Marinette sing-songed before quickly brushing by him and walked back towards class, missing the playful look on his face as he followed her at a respectable distance. She settled into her seat with a huff, zoning out while Madam Bustier droned on about the Revolution, the girl’s mind lost in the details for Clara’s dress once again.

~~

The next gift unexpectedly appeared at lunch the next day. The librarian called her over and presented a small parcel wrapped in pink striped paper. “This is for you, dear.”

“What? Who…,” began the confused bluenette. She spied a small, unsigned tag with her name on it taped to the top. The tag itself was not handwritten, instead seemed to have been made on a typewriter. Who, besides her Grandpa Roland, even owned one of those anymore?

“Sorry but I don’t have any idea. It was left here with just your name printed on the card while I was busy with a phone call. Seems you have an admirer, dear!” chuckled the librarian as she patted the girl on the shoulder, then went back to sorting a stack of returns for reshelving.

Marinette settled the parcel on her usual table, carefully unwrapping to preserve the lovely paper for another of her crafting projects. She pulled off the lid of the plain white box and unfolded the tissue paper inside – her breath caught in her throat. Inside were four Pantone Color Guide fans for fashion and home design, each with 350 different swatches, in every shade of the rainbow. Her fingers trembled as she lifted one from the safety of its tissue bed, fanning it open with a look of awe. Who had done this? First the pens, now this… She was overwhelmed with happiness and gratitude, her face lighting up with palpable joy as her mind buzzed with questions and plans.

‘I need to take these home, immediately!’ she thought, returning the Pantone guide back to the same spot she had pulled it from. She closed the box and pressed it to her chest as she quickly departed from the library, barely preventing herself from bumping into a student that was about to depart through the doorway. She threw a quick “sorry!” over her shoulder as she ran, only catching a blur of gold hair in her periphery as she exited the school.

~~~Third~~~

A couple weeks later, after the commission for Clara was done, Marinette found herself with some free time on the weekend. Time to find a nice spot to draw! She had planned to wander through the park near her house, but discovered Adrien was doing a photoshoot with Lila. She rolled her eyes and wrinkled her nose as if she smelled something rotten.  Not that she didn’t still enjoy watching Adrien’s photoshoots – on the contrary, it was fun to see the modeling process and clothes – but the motivation had changed. She had found her feelings for the model fading as time went on; eventually she accepted that it was a temporary obsession rather than love that she felt. Being around him wasn’t as awkward as she expected but she preferred to avoid being around Lila – which meant not hanging out with Adrien as much as he was constantly around her due to his father’s wishes.

She hummed softly and turned on her heel, deciding to seek out another spot that might inspire her. The pigtailed girl wandered along the Siene, giving a friendly wave to Andre the ice cream vendor as she passed and enjoying the light breeze against her cheeks. She decided her time would be best spent at the Luxembourg Gardens – it had been a while since she had visited. Marinette took a deep breath as she meandered along the sunlight paths, surrounded by trees and flowers, the calming effect of the garden and architecture washing over the secret bug-themed heroine with each step. She found a bench near one of the buildings that caught her eye, settling down with one of her drawing pencils and losing herself to the sketching of various designs that began to form in her head. A few gowns inspired by flowers and the stream nearby, jackets and hats noted with colors of the various leaves overhead, but what appeared the most on the pages were men’s three-piece suits with embroidered vests… Marinette paused, gazing at the newest vest she had drawn. Deep twilight blue, bordering on black; with barely imperceptible golden and green abstract detailing that was vaguely reminiscent of peacock feathers.

It reminded her of Felix for some reason – not just the vest itself but the stylization she had added. She glanced up to the building again, taking in the architecture with a discerning gaze. It and part of the surrounding garden was of English design, merging in with the French touches seamlessly. Adrien’s cousin was from London, perhaps that was why it reminded her so much of him… She dropped her gaze back down to the page, her eyes widening as she realized she was unconsciously doodling Felix’s face and shoulders into the vest she had created. It was rough but the sketch – hair, jawline, and the beginning curve of a grin – was distinctively him. Marinette’s cheeks pinked at the realization, hurriedly attempted to flip the page only to discover it was the last sheet. Her book would need to be replaced!

“Well,” she said as she closed and halfheartedly tucked the pad away, “looks like I’ll have to buy a new sketch pad with my allowance next Friday.” With one last look at the beautiful garden around her, she began her journey home through the afternoon crowds. Marinette failed to hear the soft plop behind her as her sketchpad fell from her bag until she was back in her room. She returned to search for it with no luck, lamenting the loss of her work but hopeful that her luck – Tikki’s really – might just bring it back to her. After all, this was why she always wrote her name and address on the inside cover. Someone must have found it and would turn it in!

At school the following Monday and Tuesday, she relegated herself to making little doodles on her notebook’s lined paper. Nothing too serious or professional – little flowers and birds that she remembered seeing at the Luxembourg Gardens, black cats chasing peacocks through a field of flowers, ladybugs on leaves cleaning their antennae or snoozing in a pollen covered pistil bed... She didn’t want to waste a great design on paper that was too thin to accept her bold pencil strokes, not to mention whatever was left would not withstand the colored marker ink without becoming an oversaturated, soggy mess. At one point Marinette caught Felix staring over her shoulder at her drawings during free period; she was so taken aback that she was at a loss for words as his green eyes met hers.

 He propped his elbow on the desk and casually rested his chin in the palm of his hand, his trademark smirk spreading across his face. “Like what you see, Princess? Take a picture, it will last longer.”

Marinette gasped at the audacity and turned away, “No, you simply reminded me of a ‘before’ picture I saw on the TV the other day.”

“Give me a chance and I’ll do more than make you gasp,” he replied close to her ear.

“I’d slap you, but I don’t want to accidentally make your face look any better,” she murmured sweetly, her eyes alight with playful mockery as she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. A tingle went up her spine as his breath tickled her ear and they seemed frozen as their gazes met, the moment only being broken by the bell. Without turning her head any further, she heard him chuckle with mirth as he sat back in his seat.

By the end of class on Tuesday, she returned home to find a thick envelope tucked into the mail slot beside their apartment entry in the alleyway. She pulled it out and found yet another typed tag on the front addressed to her. Not wanting to wait a moment longer, she ripped it open right there on the doorstep. She cried with joy when she saw the contents! Inside was her lost sketchpad tied to a brand new one, its cover a pale pink and covered in plum blossoms and irises. Marinette looked up and down the alleyway, hoping to catch a glimpse of the person that had left the envelope, but no one was there. Did she really have an admirer? She blushed as her hand traced the pattern on the cover idly. Whomever they were, they didn’t waste time with cliché gestures of flowers and chocolates… Instead, they seemed very attentive to her likes and hobbies. Every gift was centered around her designing but still found a way to incorporate a personalized touch. She had never felt so special or seen before. A warmth blossomed in her chest at the thoughtfulness this mysterious figure had shown her; this feeling leaving her floating through the rest of the week as if on cloud nine.

~~~Fourth~~~

On Thursday, Marinette sat at her table after lunch and felt something bump against her knee unexpectedly. She shifted and felt something small fall onto her knees. Trying not to look distracted in class, she brought it into her lap proper and held back a squeal as she caught a glimpse of pink striped paper. They must have stuck it to the underside of the table to avoid someone else finding it. The pigtailed girl slowly opened the wrapping, careful to keep it as silent as possible, to reveal a spool of delicate lace edging in a creamy white. She contemplated uses for it and decided she had plenty left over for a little display of appreciation…

Friday morning, she checked herself in the mirror one last time and received the nub’s up from Tikki. Marinette made her way to school and happily skipped up the steps, ignoring the looks she received – didn’t matter to her if they were in envy, anger, or judgement. Let them look! The designer had raised her hair into her Multimouse space buns but pinned small segments of lace around the base of each, giving her a Chun-Li look with her usual red ribbons trailing from each bun. She had paired the look with a red qipao top with a peplum hem, which flared slightly at her hips, over tailored black pants. She had also exchanged her usual pink purse with one covered in upcycled cream colored doilies.

Surprisingly she entered the class with a couple minutes to spare, nearly stumbling into the two blond cousins conversing at the front table. Adrien was the first to see her, his eyes slipping up to her hair as his smile turned warm and fond. “Hey Marinette! I love the new look; did you design it yourself?”

“Hey Adrien! Yeah, just haven’t had the chance to wear it before now. Felt like wearing something new today,” the designer smiled in return, giving him a little twirl. In the meantime, Felix had turned around and standing eerily silent as he stared at her. She could have sworn his ears had turned slightly pink when he finally glanced at her hair. “Cat got your tongue, Felix?” Marinette asked cheekily.

He cleared his throat before he replied. “Can I take your picture so I can show Père Noël what I want for Christmas?”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, “Don’t you know? Only good kids get presents, I’m afraid you won’t qualify.”

“Well, if I must be a Grinch, then I’d rather steal you instead,” Felix stated with a grin.

She leaned in close and dropped her voice low, her eyes taking on a dangerous glint. “I guess I should add ‘body bag’ on my list this year then, because it sounds like you’ll end up in one.” The boy seemed temporarily speechless, so she smirked with victory and headed back to her seat. Vaguely she could hear the imperceptible murmurings of the two blonds get cut off by the bell as she settled in.

Marinette felt – and ignored – Felix’s stare on the back of her head the rest of the day. If she had turned around for even a moment, she likely would have seen the rouged complexion that he was unable to tame in her presence.

~~~Fifth~~~

A week later, after a long day dodging Lila’s machinations and having to stay late to handle Class Representative tasks, Marinette was relieved to find the locker room empty. She mentally ran through the list of books she would need to complete her homework and opened the lock, the door immediately falling open due to an unbalanced package within. Her heart leaped into her chest as she took in the memorable pink stripped paper. The bluenette sat on the bench and brought the package into her lap, noting that it felt soft under the crinkling exterior. Just as she did with the Pantone Guides, she carefully removed the paper. As the last of the tape was peeled and the boundary fell away to reveal the contents, Marinette audibly gasped. There in her lap lay the most beautiful silk she had ever seen, the same shade as the vest she had sketched at the gardens!

She blushed as she thought of the drawing and the image of Felix wearing it in her mind’s eye. She shook her head to free herself from such thoughts. Knowing him, he’d probably think her designs were not worthy enough to be worn. The designer brushed her hand over the material adoringly, unfolding the fabric slightly to gauge the length. There was enough to make a few vests or a skirt or a cocktail dress… Her fingers found a card hidden within the folds and pulled it free. Her cheeks flushed crimson as she read it. Printed in the same font as the others, it simply said:

The vest will only be half as beautiful as you.

~~~Plus One~~~

Marinette spent the next few days sewing the vest and adding the detailing. It now hung on her mannequin as pictured in her sketchpad but…it didn’t feel right. Incomplete. She trudged through school, distracted by the design and what it seemed to be missing. Even Tikki couldn’t calm her or help in any way. The girl wasn’t even sure why she was so focused on it! It wasn’t like she had a way to deliver it to her admirer… she had no way to tell if it would fit him either!

The girl was so unfocused all morning that, when it finally came to be lunch time, she tripped over something on the ground unexpectedly. She groaned from the floor as she brushed her knees off and sought out what item might have caused her fall. In the middle of the walkway was a nondescript black pencil case and – if the solidness she felt through the toe of her flat was any indication – it was full of writing utensils. Marinette grabbed it as she stood up, searching for a tag or name on it to figure out whom to return it to. Nothing was on the outside except for the zipper and a smudge of dirt in the shape of her shoe print. She unzipped it and peered inside, digging her fingers around to loosen the contents. She must have jostled something too hard because pens and pencils popped from the opening and spilled onto the floor.

“Damnit, Marinette…you’re such a klutz,” she muttered as she crouched back down to collect the items, hoping nothing was damaged. She knew how important good pens were. She smiled warmly as she looked at the case, remembering the pens and pencils she had received in her first gift from her admirer…

Just then a pencil caught her eye and she froze; it couldn’t be… As if afraid it was just one of Trixx’s mirages that would evaporate when touched, she reached out slowly and picked it up. There in her hand was a Bosco pencil, exact matches to the ones she had received. Looking around the semi-busy walkway, she quickly gathered up the rest and ran down an empty hall to the supply closet she sometimes used to transform during an akuma attack. The designer knew these came as a matching set of ten and had thought it was odd that she only received five…assuming whomever the giver was that they may have kept the others. She didn’t blame them; these were expensive pencils! She pulled her own pink case out and extracted one of the Bosco pencils to compare it against.

The serial numbers matched.

Marinette gasped and fell to her knees on the floor of the closet, staring at the zippered pouch in shock. “This is…this is my admirer’s case.” She sat dumbfounded for a moment before springing back into action to search for any name that might give away their identity. However, even after emptying it of all further contents, there wasn’t a single thing with initials or contact information. The girl groaned in frustration before carefully replacing the contents and cleaning the dirt from the outside. “I’ll bring it to the office, perhaps they will report it missing to Lost & Found. They brought me back my sketchpad, it’s only fair to find a way to bring this back to them too.”

The designer opened the door and stepped back out into the hall, keeping the case snuggly held against her stomach like a precious artifact, then made her way towards the front office. As she approached, she caught a familiar voice drifting from the open doorway and into the hall, a voice that no longer held the same haughty tone but one filled with anxiety and concern.

“It’s all black with a zipper down the side. Contains several wood drawing pencils and pens which mean a lot to me. Felix Fathom, 01-XX-XX-XXXX. Did you get that?” He paused and she could hear the dulcet voice of their receptionist responding the affirmative. “Thank you. You’ll call me if you find it?” She didn’t wait to hear the answer, instead she ducked into a bathroom nearby and stared at the case as if it had grown legs.

‘Felix is my admirer…he gave me the gifts…this is his case…’ Her mind whirled as it connected the dots. All the times he had shown interest in her drawings and hobbies without calling attention to himself, the times they had bumped into each other in the library or the hallway, the pick-up lines and terms of endearment taking on a whole new meaning as she blushed… He had been there on the cusp of her periphery and paid more attention to her interests than she ever thought he might. And he sounded so worried about losing this case, which contained the matching ones to her set. Then a knowing grin crossed her face – the note cards! She recalled Adrien once mentioning that Felix’s father used to type all of his movie scripts on a typewriter. ‘He did all this…for me?’ Her heart swelled with warmth.

With a flash of brilliance, Marinette suddenly knew just how to finish her design!

But first, she needed to drop the pen pouch off at the front office.

~~

Marinette arrived early the next day and took her usual seat in the empty classroom, deciding to doodle as she waited for others to arrive. Well, one person in particular. Her nerves tingled with the impending confrontation. What if she was wrong? What if he did this as some sick joke? No. She and Tikki had talked through all those issues last night as she hand embroidered the lining with ladybugs flitting between Tudor Roses. It was folded and wrapped in her lap, covered by her jacket.

She heard the sound of his footfall in the hallway and held her breath, forcing her eyes to remain on the paper pad in front of her as she heard those footsteps falter at the doorway. Within a few moments, they restarted and walked up the aisle towards his desk before pausing next to hers. Marinette looked up and met his eyes, noticing he had already dropped his bookbag onto the ground next to his desk on the tier above hers. They were all alone, this was her chance!

“You’re here early, finally decided to be a good example, Miss Class Rep?” Damn him and that smirk!

“On the contrary, I had an important appointment to make this morning.” In one fluid movement she stood, unfolded the vest, and draped it around his shoulders like a cape before he could react.

His eyes widened as he looked down at the material swathed around his torso in awe, his eyes taking on a nervous shadow as they rose once again to her face, “You… How did…”

“You know what that’s made of don’t you?” Marinette’s voice took on a serious tone as if lecturing a student. Her fingers gently fiddled with an edge near his shoulder, pretending to assess the fabric before tucking it beneath his shirt collar. His eyes became searching, but he didn’t reply, his lips parted as if too stunned or unsure to answer.

The pigtailed girl leaned in close to his lips and whispered, “Boyfriend material.” Then closed the distance to seal it with a kiss.

~~~Author's Notes: Do I sound like I am an artist knowing these things? Because I'm not. I just research A LOT when I write. 😅

[willowtab]

The Abduction

Hi there! Decided to try my hand at releasing some of my fanfictions.

This is a portion of my DR, S5 Spencer, (there will be more if this gets any attention, I just want to share this joy with someone). I'm not going to lie, this is based on a specific part of this song:

18+

Trigger Warnings; mention of r*pe, t*rt*re, pregnancy loss, and some s*icid*l inclinations, mentions of dr*g *se and mention of s*x

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Amelia laid on the ground, curled up in a ball and prayed silently for the fifth time that afternoon that he was done with her for the day. Her wrists had been rubbed raw from the fraction, he never got to take her without hearing and feeling her rage and fear, and her stomach was pained with hunger. 

It had been almost two days since she had been kidnapped by the BAU’s latest unsub, and though he had been attentive to his own needs, he’d seemed to forgotten that food was necessary for her survival. The same way he had forgotten for the girls before him-according to the coroner.

She should have known the others had been right about the unsub and that she was his type. In fact, as she found out after her abduction, Amelia had been the end goal. An FBI agent that matched the other Native American girls; long, blue/black hair and deep brown eyes. 

Amelia didn’t know how she’d ended up on the mission in the first place; even with her medical aid and tracking dog at her side. Emily had been there too, but Amelia followed her dog into a backyard and it was over. She could hear them calling her name, and her captor had made her watch her husband’s plea for her return on the television. What she would give for just five minutes with her favorite genius.

Listening to her coworker’s advice, which had once been hypothetical, she closed her eyes and escaped to her memories.

         Amelia’s fingers tapped the hard wood of the conference table, eyes glued to a deep scratch on the table and her leg was bouncing on its own in a quick rhythm. They had just gotten back from LA, and on the way out, Garcia reminded the team it was their monthly dinner night. So, instead of going home and being able to work on regulating her growing hurt, she had to sit next to him.

“Your turn, Amelia.” Spencer grinned, nudging her with his knee.

“Why are we talking about crushes?” Amelia sighed, glancing up at Gideon and Hotch, who had both opted out of the game.

She was already having the worst week, having watched him get all cozy with Lila, and now he wanted her to divulge her biggest and only secret? Given that it was only a secret from him, all the others had caught on in the beginning. How could we have grown up together, be able to have silent conversations, and him have an IQ of 187, all for him to be the dumbest man alive? Or does he know, and he just wants to throw more hurt into my face?

“The only reason you would protest playing a game like this would be if it was somebody on the team.” His eyes widened with excitement; she could see his brain working on calculations from here and knew it was about to be over. “It is someone on the team, but who?”

“Spencer…” Morgan shook his head in warning, Gideon’s eyes met Amelia’s in silent sympathy.

“No, it’s not Morgan. It’s someone you’re close to… you’ve been upset with them recently and can’t avoid them, so it’s someone you work with.” He tapped his lips thoughtfully, his eyes searching hers.

“Can we just drop it?” Amelia’s eyes dropped back down to the table. “I’m opting out, just like Hotch and Gideon.”

“Why? I’ll know who it is anyway here in a sec… Hotch and Gideon are the only ones you spend a lot of time with outside of me and potentially Morgan.” He scratched his chin and they locked eyes one last time.

“Spence, please.”

“It would logically have to be…” Spencer trailed off and his face scrunched in confusion, “Me.”

“Dammit, Spencer.” Morgan threw his hands up as Amelia’s face turned bright red, despite it only being news to Spencer; everyone on the team had known for years.

“I need to go.” Amelia lied, yanking her bag from the floor and quickly fleeing the room, ignoring whoever was calling her name.

Amelia knew she had led herself on; between sharing a home with him and often a bed when they needed release. Their ‘benefits’ had started when they were teenagers, only under the facade that neither had any romantic feelings for each other and it wasn’t true, not for her. She loved him more than words could describe and even if he didn’t reciprocate… 

As for Spencer, he hadn’t dreamed in a million years that Amelia would ever feel anything for him; she refused to kiss him and had made it a dealbreaker.  He’d known since the day he met her that she was the one, but she’d seemed so… detached? Maybe it was because they’d spent almost every day together since they met and trusted each other above anything; but in that moment his mind was swimming.

“You’ve got to be the blindest genius I’ve ever met, pretty boy.” Morgan shook his head, distaste filling his tone.

“She… I didn’t…” Spencer swallowed, praying she would return to the room so he could go on his knees and beg her for a chance. “She’s too good for me. Especially if I can’t see.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, sugar.” Penelope tapped his shoulder as she left the room. “She was blind to you as well.”

“What?”

“We all knew. The two of you follow each other around like little puppy dogs.” Elle laughed, “It’s adorable, but if you’re not gonna go after her…”

Spencer hadn’t hesitated to escape the room with the scrutinizing eyes, especially her father’s, and found her under a tree, ducking from the pouring rain. He knew then, as he’d seen in so many of the Romance movies Amelia had made him watch after losing chess to her, that this was his best chance and everything he knew she silently wished for. He just hadn’t thought it would be him going through with it.

“Amelia!” Spencer had shouted over the rain as he ran towards her.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Spencer.” Amelia’s chest ached as she watched, curls dripping with rain and his clothes were as soaked as hers. “It’s not a big deal-”

“I’m in love with you, Lia.” He grabbed her face, leaning over so his eyes could lock on hers.

“I…” Amelia’s voice got stuck in her throat and she wrapped her fingers around his wrists, not wanting him to let go.

“I love you, Amelia. I’ll only ever love you.” He laughed, shaking his head. “And that’s not even statistically possible and yet, I know it’s the most factual thing I will ever say.”

“I love you too, Spence.” 

Spencer ignored the tears streaming down their faces and the eyes he knew were watching from the windows, and his lips met hers. Amelia’s breath escaped her lungs with a ‘whoosh’ and she never wanted to stop kissing him; it was why she’d refused any time before. His lips were gentle, but firm on hers and she melted into him like butter, they fit together like puzzle pieces.

“They know who I am now.” The unsub kicked the chains around Amelia’s ankles and she scowled at him, pulling her ankles into her chest. “Your genius husband figured it out when he found your dog. Somethin’ to do with my DNA.”

“Please, I need something to eat and insulin. That’s why I had him with me, he would alert me when I’m low and I’m….” Amelia pleaded, though her voice was raspy and weak as her eyes found Spencer’s face on the screen. ‘I need my husband.’

“Then you should hope they find you soon, though they don’t know I use my friend’s warehouse. They don’t even have an address of mine.” He chuckled, but left the television on as he left her.

*****

Spencer paced the small space of the van Hotch had banished him to, since he refused to wait at home and let the EMT’s take care of her. He didn’t remember ever feeling so hopeless; not when he was kidnapped and formed a Dilaudid addiction, he had her to help and guide him through it, not when Gideon left, he was her father too and they mourned the loss of him on their team for months.

The rest of the team had rushed to their location the second Emily had called Morgan and told them she was gone, unable to erase the memory from replaying.

“Where is she?!” Spencer had yelled, his brain and heart seeming to malfunction as he prayed she would just appear.

“I don’t know, Spencer. I’m sorry, we got split up, Arnie ran after something and I didn’t see where she was going. She just disappeared.” Emily stared at him, unable to voice how helpless she felt.

“I need to find her. You know what he does to those girls.” His hands flew up and tangled in his hair, his eyes wide as he glanced around wildly for her.

“Spencer. I need you to walk away and find your cool. We are not ever going to find her if we lose control.” Hotch spoke quietly, but his eyes revealed the same worry; she hadn’t gone through near as much training or experience in kidnapping.

She was the therapist and medic for the team and the victims and the dog trainer for the K-9 unit, often bringing one or two of her dogs on their missions. Amelia was not allowed on scene aside from victim recovery and didn’t carry a gun or go unaccompanied.

“Okay, then we have to find her soon. We know he starves his victims and she’s a type one diabetic, but also forgetful so I have them in my bag.” Spencer’s legs felt weak and he urged his breakfast not to reappear.

“I think I know how we’re going to find her.” Morgan’s face had paled as he returned with Rossi.

“We found Archer. Looks like he did what he could to stop the unsub.” David lifted the garbage bag in his arms and Spencer’s urging failed as his stomach emptied itself.

Spencer knew the second his name was shouted from outside the van, he was right in insisting he came and stayed in the van in case. The van door opened and Morgan burst in, his eyes wide and blood on his hands.

“She won’t let us touch her. She needs help.” Morgan ducked back out, Spencer on his heels.

Spencer heard the screams before he saw her and while it wrecked his heart, his soul swelled with pride at the fight still in her voice. Amelia had chains still on her wrists, a medium wound in her stomach and blood on her hands as she seemed to snarl at even Hotch and Rossi trying to comfort her.

“‘Lia. I’m here. We have to get you some help. Stop fighting.” He knelt beside her, letting her wrap her arms around his neck.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, tears streaming down her face and onto his vest.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Spencer moved out of the medic’s way, keeping her hand in his even as they cut the chains and revealed bloody, damaged skin.

“I was…” She flinched at the pinch of a needle in her arm, her eyes suddenly droopy. “I was…”

“Shh, honey. Rest now. You’re safe.” Spencer kissed her forehead, ignoring his own tears as she gave in.

“I’m sorry I didn’t warn you I ordered a sedative.” Hotch murmured, a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “They thought it best for her own safety. Ride with her, we’ll be right behind you.

*****

The sounds of beeping and low voices woke Amelia up, her limbs and injury dully throbbed as she peeked through her eyelids. Hotch, Morgan, and Spencer were standing outside the door, heads together. Emily was asleep in the lounge chair behind the bed and Rossi was watching whatever was below the hospital window.

“Hey, Amelia.” JJ touched her hand from the armchair beside the hospital bed.

“JJ.” Amelia whispered, gripping the woman’s hand and ignored the pounding of her heart.

“Spencer.” JJ called softly, Amelia almost smiled as his head immediately to her direction and she felt her heart stop. Or, speed up according to her monitor.

“Baby, are you okay?” He knelt beside her, his hazel eyes piercing hers.

“I’m okay.” Amelia looked away, the past couple of days flashing through her memory again and couldn’t bear to face the hurt that was bound.

“Maybe not try to give her a heart attack.” Morgan laughed, leaning down to hug her. “I’m glad you’re okay, sweetheart. Penelope is on her way up here.”

“Did you get…” Amelia swallowed, looking at Hotch’s face instead of the one way too close.

“Yes. He’s gone.” Hotch’s eyes flickered to Rossi, who looked away and patted her shoulder. 

“Do you need my statement?” Amelia’s fingers twitched in JJ’s.

“If you feel up for it, sure, but there’s really no rush.”

“Wanna get it over with while it’s still fresh.” She swallowed and stared at the hand in hers. “I was following Archer, he had seen something and I didn’t see Emily, so I went into the backyard. He came at me from behind and I woke up in that warehouse. He raped me three times the first day and was finishing on his fifth when he stabbed me. He’d beat me up before because I would scream and fight every time he did. He said I was his final victim, the one he had wanted from the start.”

“Did he say why?”

“He saw me and Archer on the news comforting a victim and stalked me from there.” Amelia glanced at Spencer, who’s face had turned dark and was focused on the bruises on her arms. “When he told me he killed Archer I… I provoked him to stab me. I didn’t mean to, I thought he’d react differently and I was mad.”

“He was going to try to kill you anyway, baby, he knew we were here.”

“No.” Amelia looked up at the ceiling, her voice toneless and weary.

“What did you say, Amelia?” Hotch spoke softly, laying a reassuring hand on her leg.

“I told him he couldn’t get me pregnant because I was already twelve weeks.” Amelia’s chest began to ache terribly and her lungs were on fire as she glanced at her husband again. 

“No, baby, no. Don’t be sorry, my love. Please.” Spencer whispered, pulling her hand to rest on his face. 

“Let’s give them some space, please.” Hotch told the others, “Let’s go update Garcia and get some food.”

“Why don’t you get some rest, baby?” Spencer kissed her forehead and sat in the chair JJ had abandoned.

She didn’t understand how he could be so calm and patient, forgiving her for not telling him about their baby before going on the mission. Amelia knew he should hate her for putting herself and her unborn child, one they had on and off again tried for, at risk and ultimately losing. How he could still love her after another man had used her over and over again.

A nurse came in not long after and talked to them, but Amelia couldn’t understand a single word and just stared at the wall until her eyes were heavy once again. She continued her practice of good memories and found her favorite one.

Spencer and Amelia didn’t wait longer than a month after their engagement to get married; they flew his mother in from Las Vegas, Gideon showed up at the last minute to walk his daughter down the aisle, and their small group of friends gathered in a small church.

“I have been in love with you since the day I met you and you took my hand, since you protected me in school and only ever wanted me to be your friend. You could have been popular, you are the most beautiful girl in any room.” Spencer tightened his grip on her hand as he spoke the vows he had written the day they’d gotten together, “There is nothing in this world that could ever change that, not addictions and not death.”

“You say I protected you and that may be true, but you have protected me from myself. You are my map, my northern star, you are my home. I can’t love anything or anyone this much, til death do us part.” Amelia grinned, “Even in death, I’ll haunt you until you finally join me in the afterlife.”

Thunderous applause filled the room as they were pronounced Dr and Dr. Reid, their legal identities tied together just as their souls were. They’d danced the night away, laughing at the speeches from Morgan, Penelope, and Spencer’s mom, who’d accepted Amelia immediately as her own.

*****

“Please talk to me.” Spencer murmured, his fingers making circles on Amelia’s hand. 

Amelia hadn’t spoken for days, aside from one worded answers to the nurses, doctor, and occasionally Hotch, if he needed more information on the unsub. Spencer stayed patiently and stubbornly at her side, despite her attempts to lock him out. He noticed the tears that slipped from her closed lids or the trembling of her lips when he spoke to her and she refused to look at him.

“I can’t help you if you don’t speak to me.” 

“I don’t know what to say.” Amelia’s voice was cold and her eyes remained on her feet, covered by a blanket. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“We’ve always shared everything, good and bad. You can’t shut me out.”

“I can’t bear this feeling anymore, Spence. I don’t want to voice it into reality.”

“I need to know what you’re thinking.” Spencer lifted her hand up to his lips, his eyes studying her face in the way he knew she couldn’t resist.

“We’re trained to know how to help our victims; survivors guilt, PTSD, the physical abuse or losing a pregnancy. I’ve told women and little girls that they are not dirty, they are not broken, and what happened to them was not their fault and does not make them so unworthy.” Amelia’s eyes finally met Spencer’s, allowing him to see the deep hurt and fear. “So why do I feel all that, despite my education?l Like you shouldn’t want me anymore?”

“There is next to nothing you could do to make me not want you. You getting kidnapped and forced… to do things you didn’t want to do is not anything you need forgiveness for.” He slowly moved to sit beside her on the bed. “Do you not remember when you found my stash?”

“Spence, we gotta go, there’s been another attack. Have you seen my jacket?” Amelia called, frantically scanning the hotel room.

“It was on the bed, last I saw it.” Spencer raised his eyebrow as she sighed in resignation at herself and tugged it on, patting Archer on the head.

“Here, you want your bag?” Amelia reached to pick it up, but it slipped through her fingers and spilled out onto the floor.

“Fuck.” Spencer breathed, lunging to shovel his things back inside as Archer jumped down from the bed and started whining as he nosed through the mess. “Archer, bed.”

“I’m sorry, Spencer. I got it” Amelia glanced at his face, furrowing her brows at his panic.

“It’s fine, I got it. Just go on.”

“No, no. What’s in here you’re worried I’m going to find?” Amelia felt frozen to the carpet as he stood up and held the bag tightly in his fists. 

“Nothing, you know how I am about my stuff.” Spencer shifted his eyes away from her face.

“Archer was looking through that.” She felt her heart as she stood up, holding her hand out for the bag and scolding herself for not seeing the signs sooner. “Let me see it.”

“Please.” He almost whimpered, his fingers trembling.

“We don’t hide things from each other.” Amelia reminded him, gently tugging the bag from his fingers and laid it on the bed.

“Don’t hate me.”

“I could never hate you.” She reassured him, holding the bag open for Archer. “Find.”

Though she expected what her dog would find, Amelia couldn’t stop the shaking of her hands as a capsule of dilaudid landed in her palm. She should have known, he was constantly on edge, picking at his fingers, and had become more irritable; Amelia had never been annoying to him until recently.

“I am not… who you fell in love with. I’m not worthy of you anymore.” Spencer’s chin fell to his chest as he sank to his knees. “I can’t stop.”

“I will fall in love with you, over and over again. I don’t care how, where, or when.” Amelia pulled him into her lap, holding him as he let go. “No matter what, you’re mine. You will never be alone. We’ll get through this together.”

“I will fall in love with you. Over and over again.” Spencer pulled her head into his chest. “No matter what, you’re mine.”

“Please don’t ever leave me.” Amelia choked out, her fingers tightening their grip on his shirt.

“Never.”

*****

[stephsageek]

A preview for chapter 10 of my Five X Lila fic, "Much Longer Than Six Years, Five Months, and Two Days."

“Nice Suit.”

“Thanks. Tailor in the lobby is a master craftsman.”

She meant it when she had said she missed seeing his pasty knees, but she had to admit, the suits he’d taken to wearing were certainly an upgrade.

They gave him a remote kind of beauty, something cold and elegant. She knew there was a part of him that very much was the cold calculating man he presented the world—but another part of her knew it was also a façade. Deep down, those suits just hid the man he really was. A man who was a complex mercurial mass of instability and emotion, teeming with a desperate volatile power not unlike the Kugelblitz they’d once faced. He was his own little pocket full of lightning.

Sometimes, when she was alone at night, lying beside his brother, the space between them an endless chasm, she would find her mind wandering to Five.

It was the same as the first night she and Diego had ever slept together.

She was there with him physically, but like all the people she’d ever been with, her mind was far away.

That night she had lied there, counting Diego’s breaths until she knew he was asleep, so she could slip away and report back to The Handler—about her precious top assassin. Lila had laid there thinking about him, her entire focus on him. On how she wanted to crush him.

Ever since she had learned about him, Five was always there, in the back of her mind, an enormous figure despite his slight size.

Later, lying there in her marital bed at night, when she should be thinking about Diego, thinking about how they should give couples counseling another try, or how maybe she should finally tell him she wanted a break, a separation so that they could both have a chance to reflect on if this marriage was worth saving anymore.

Instead, she would still find herself thinking about Five.

About the times they had fought. The times they had been enemies—wolves howling for one another’s blood. Their feet and fists connecting with flesh, snapping bone, and spilling blood. Their bodies pressed together, sweating, and panting.

His teeth scraping against her throat, his tongue sliding along her skin.

Lila would feel heat suffuse her skin, squeezing her thighs together—guilt and confusion seeping into her bones.

Lila would squeeze her eyes shut, desperately trying to will these thoughts away. Yet the harder she pushed, the more insistent they became. Over the years, especially now that he was physically maturing, it was becoming impossible to rid herself of these intrusive thoughts.

Lila told herself it was just an attraction, sexual tension—nothing more.

She’d clench her jaw and breathe through her nose, trying to think of anything else besides Number Five; She’d do her best to banish green eyes and a rakish smile. To forget their occasional sparring sessions—the times when both were coursing with unspent energy, unaddressed tension, like the marigold that had once filled their veins was still somehow dormant somewhere hidden in their bodies.

Christ, woman. Get a grip. It's just the little gremlin.

Lila lied too often sometimes; especially to herself.

Thank you @kitsuneudon743 for helping me get back into this story!

[jayphoenic]

Hello!

I don't know if it's still okay to ask for recommendations. I have recently been into daminette story (and I have been in love with this couple). Do you have good recommendations where Ladybug and Robin swap their body multiple times? I read one fanfic, where they have a similar theme, and I have been obsessed!

Thank you! With LOVE!

I'm sorry but I don't know any stories where they swap bodies. Here's a recommendation of Daminette anyways. Some of these are filled with fluff and some Lila salt so enjoy!

Daminette AO3 Fanfic Recommendations 2

Tolerance by @superpsychonutcase

Chapters: 2/2

Lila is up to her old tricks. Thankfully, Tim and the employees of Wayne Enterprises are not as dimwitted as Bustier and her class.

Warmth by FridayFirefly

Chapters: 2/2

When Damian wakes up with a stranger in his bed, he knows that there is only one possible explanation: that stranger is his Soulmate.

#SunshineOfGotham by sixtyeightdays

Chapters: 14/14

All of Gotham knows Marinette, the Sunshine who's made her way into everyone's hearts.

But so what if all of Gotham knows Marinette? Does her class know that they know Marinette?

Of course not, why would they! But, well, let's see how they find out.

A Welcoming Change by Brinxiethebear

Chapters: 43/43

Damian Wayne always saw himself in a certain light. He was calculating and cold and he always took his work seriously. He was what others would call the Ice Prince. He was a loner and by choice. The only people he ever really tolerated talking to was his family and his only friend, Jon. Mainly he just spent time with his pets.

So can you guess what happens when a new girl ends up coming to his school? It's certainly not what he was expecting. He finds that its a welcoming change nonetheless, no matter what surprises may come his way.

Gotham's (Fashion) Disasters by FaithWarrior

Chapters: 22/?

Marinette and her parents are dragged along to the Rock wedding of the year by none other than the groom himself Jagged Stone. To complicate matters the wedding is in Gotham city America. By the grace of her Ladybug luck Marinette has everything prepared for the trip. But her skills are needed in Gotham, and she might find something while she's there.

Part 1

Remember some chapters are longer than others (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*.✧

[zepskies]

Lessons Learned was so good!!! The perfect amount of fluff, smut, angst and humour!

Will we ever get a drabble of them trying and deciding for baby number 2?

Oh why thank you, lovely anon! 💚💚 I very much love to hear it!!

I did have a blast writing Lesson Learned (Soldier Boy x Reader). 😆 They're at an interesting stage in their relationship where they're married and doing the raise a family thing, but she can still have fun messing with him and testing his patience (as always). Made even more fun and complicated when Butcher, Hughie & Co. get into the mix. 😉

Will we ever get a drabble of them trying and deciding for baby number 2?

Ooh, that's an interesting question! In the story Green, they kind of have that Baby #2 conversation, more or less lol. (Heavily implied that they start trying again about two years later.)

By the time we get to the last story in the BMD-verse chronologically, Calculated Risks, we've jumped ahead to her being pregnant with Baby #2, and Lila being about 4 years old.

So I'll never say never to that prompt, to sort of fill in that "gap," but I think the next BMD challenge will be tackling their wedding, which was a considerable time gap in Strong as Blood (Part 2).

And just so everyone else knows, all of these BMD stories are listed chronologically in the storyverse timeline on the Break Me Down Masterlist, not by when they were originally written. I think chronological order makes it easier for you guys to follow the story as it continues to evolve. 💚

[myreia]

Seasons Passing

—part i: autumn leaves

Rating: Teen Characters: Y'mhitra Rhul, Aymeric de Borel, Yugiri Mistwalker, Erenville, Avi'li Sostomi (WoL) Pairings: Y'mhitra x Avi'li, Aymeric x Avi'li, Yugiri x Avi'li, Erenville x Avi'li Chapter Words: 1,860 Summary: For every season, a new love. Whether it is watching the soft fall of autumn leaves with Y’mhitra or the cold snows of winter with Aymeric, the spring blossoms with Yugiri or the summer rains with Erenville, these are the relationships Avi’li Sostomi holds in his heart. Chapters: one • two • three • four Read on AO3 Belated birthday gift for @lilas! Avi'li belongs to them. 💕

Geometric lines stand stark against white pages, a blur of equations and calculations and patterns that are beautiful as they are dangerous. Or could be dangerous. He isn’t really sure what this set does yet—he’s malms away from figuring it out, why must experts be so bloody dense?—but considering arcanima’s combat applications, dangerous is a good guess.

It’s always dangerous.

His ears wiggle with excitement. His tail would wiggle too if not for the fact he is lying down.

“Discovered something of interest, Avi’li?”

“Hm?”

Avi’li lowers the book, peeking out from over the top. Y’mhitra sits cross-legged on the blanket, her own book open in her lap, the tip of her finger idly toying with the corner of a page. She’s done away with her usual practical garb, replacing it with a pale green dress embroidered with leaves. Her hair is down for once, the loose white waves just brushing her shoulders. The front parts are pulled back in small braids twisted into a little rosette at the back of her head and pinned with a pink flower. Did she mean to match the flower in his ear? Likely not, but if she did…   

He smiles, warmth flushing his cheeks. Does she know how adorable she is? He could stare at her all afternoon. All day. All night.

Her brow furrows. “Avi’li?” she prompts again, and for a moment she looks exactly like her sister.

Avi’li pushes himself up. “Er, uh… well, yes and no.” He leans over and sets the book between them, holding the splayed pages open with his hand. “This here don’t make much sense to me no matter how long I stare at it, there ain’t no logic to it. No matter which way you follow it, the energy is lost. The equation’s unbalanced, see? If aetheric energies are sourced here and here, then directed here, then poof. Nothin’. Where did it go? And why? How—” 

Y’mhitra places a hand over his. Her fingers are warm and soft and gentle. “Avi’li.”

Third time she’s said his name.

He blows out of a puff of air. “Sorry, Mhitra,” he says wistfully, rubbing the back of his neck. The muscles are sore from all that reading. Chewing his lower lip, he glances to the side and takes in their surroundings. The great Gridanian trees arching overhead. The little babbling brook. The red and yellow autumnal wildflowers in the last days of their bloom. Their shared blanket and piles of cushions. The picnic basket and bottle of wine that have gone untouched, and the pile of books that most certainly have been. Perfectly picturesque and romantic, and yet, in his excitement, he allowed himself to get distracted. “Suppose when I asked you here you were expecting date date and not some study date.”

Her tail curls and uncurls, whisking against the blanket. “You would be correct,” she murmurs, glancing at him coyly from beneath her lashes. There’s a faint blush on her cheeks, rosy and soft. Her hand does not move away from his. “I do not think the two must be mutually exclusive, but I was hoping for a little more…”

“More?” His heart flip-flops. By the Twelve, must she be so cute when she’s looking at him like that?

“More of you.” She brushes her thumb against the back of his hand. “I know Avi’li the Warrior of Light very well. But I’d like to know the other one. The Avi’li who sends me letters detailing all his adventures, the Avi’li who can’t wait to recount all the misadventures of his siblings, the Avi’li who teases me mercilessly when the mood strikes, the Avi’li who drops in unannounced and spirits me away on a romantic outing. I’m happy to sit side by side and read until the sun sets, but there comes a time when even a scholar need set their books aside.”

He stiffens, her words unexpectedly hitting something buried deep within him. Something sore, something that aches, like an old injury he has forgotten is there.

She blinks. “I apologize,” she says quickly, removing her hand. “I meant no offense. If you wish to spend this afternoon at study, I am more than happy—”

“No, no, it’s fine, it’s good. It’s me.” He stares at the book and its beautiful geometry that has left him stumped, stunned, still thinking things through. “Ha! Ha!”  

Laughter bubbles out of him, strong and true, and he finds himself doubled over, hands on his knees, and grinning from ear to ear. Y’mhitra stares at him with curiosity and concern, fingers pressed to her mouth. She watches as he laughs himself silly, his voice ringing clear and bright through the clearing. The bushes tremble and a few spooked squirrels dart out and race up a tree.

Y’mhitra pushes her book out of her lap. “Dare I ask what is so funny?” she says, reaching for the basket and bottle of wine.

“Oh, me,” Avi’li says, still full of laughter. He watches as she rummages around in the basket, stealthily stuffing a few crackers into her mouth as she withdraws two glasses and opens the wine. The lush scent of a rich red fills his nostrils as she pours. A Wineport vintage. He recognizes it immediately. “If there comes a time when even a scholar needs to set their books aside, but I’m ahead of you. Too much time spent gallivantin’ around with Jacke and V’kebbe and their lot, or botherin’ Oboro about training. Arcanima may be what brought me to Limsa Lominsa, but…”

He trails off and takes the proffered glass. No matter his interest in arcanima, there is something about magical disciplines that he cannot fully grasp, something within it that slips right off his mind like rainwater rolling off a roof. What is good in theory is not always good in practice. But can he admit this to her when they’ve come so far? Oh hells, who is he fooling, she probably already knows. It doesn’t take a genius to read between the lines, and Y’mhitra is a certified genius.

She has the Studium credits to prove it.

“Somethin’ else grabbed my attention entirely. Well, not entirely, but… y’know, y’know? Changin’ interests and the like. Lovin’ something dearly but not feelin’ like it fits.” He raises his head and closes his eyes, basking in the warmth of the autumn sun. “Sometimes I wonder if I studied harder, if I had the tenacity of a Sharlayan scholar or the diligence of a Studium graduate, if I honed my mind as easily as I honed my blades, then maybe I’d discover some moment of grand enlightenment and the clouds would part and the sun would shine and it would all make sense. It would all be all right.”

He opens his eyes and turns to her with a smile. “I suppose that’s the struggle, ain’t it? Of being a person. No matter how much you yearn for one thing, growing up is a bit about realizing what you want isn’t always what you need.”

Y’mhitra’s expression softens. “Is that what these are for?” she asks, sipping on her wine as she gestures at the piles of books. “You wanted to impress me on our date?”

His lips twitch and he downs half his glass. “No,” he lies. Well, a partial one. “They are as much for you as they are for me. Sharin’ in like interests and all that, gettin’ to know you better—”

She grins.

“Oh.” He scrunches his nose. “Got me on that one.”

She laughs. “Well, perhaps there is some truth to it,” she says warmly, the blanket bunching as she scoots closer to him. “For I will admit that sometimes I worry that you push yourself too far to live up to expectations set by the Archons of your organization. But you need not impress me because of my sister, or my Sharlayan roots. Being a graduate of the Studium does not mark the wise anymore than a captain’s badge marks a good officer within a Grand Company.”

He pauses. “I know that, but…” He rubs the back of his neck again, tentatively searching for the right words. As much as he hates to admit it, he does worry sometimes what Y’shtola thinks of his relationship with her sister. If she deems his worthy enough. “It’s not Sharlayan or the Archons. Not really.”

Y’mhitra meets his eyes. “Let me tell you right now, Avi’li, in no uncertain terms: Y’shtola is brilliant, but brilliance is not always equivalent to cleverness. She is perfectly capable of making vastly unwise decisions and acting the fool. Do not let her outward façade intimate you.”

“I’m not—” He chuckles, shaking his head. Of course she found him out. “Thank you, Mhitra. For listenin’. Here I was not hopin’ to treat you to a nice afternoon and I’m spillin’ all my deep inner secrets.”

She moves closer, close enough to touch. Her shoulder bumps against his. “It’s charming to show a little vulnerability, you know,” she says quietly, leaning in. Her scent washes over him, like fresh-cut apples and wood berries. “And a little cute.”

Funny how she got to call him cute before he called her that. “Ahh, well, when you put it like that…” Shooting her a grin, Avi’li finishes off his wine and flops back into the soft, soft cushions, forearm resting against his brow, and stares at the blue, blue sky above. The sun peeks through the canopy, soft light streaming past red and gold-tinged leaves. It’s too warm to be autumn already, but it came for them anyway—this mark of seasons turning, of time marching forward. A bit in your face, come to think of it. Not the way it is in the south sea isles. Autumn doesn’t quite exist in his childhood home, nor even in his beloved Vylbrand. “So what is it like? Old Sharlayan?”

“Hm.” Y’mhitra hums thoughtfully, setting down her glass, and lies down beside him on her front. Propping herself up on an elbow, she cozies up next to him with a leg entangled in his and her tail resting lazily across his stomach. “Beautiful. The oceans are blue, the mountains verdant, the skies clear. There is such stunning intensity there its likeness is not one I can describe. But like their land, Sharlayans are filled with abundant and determined purpose. ‘Tis as much their flaw as it is their strength.”

“I would like to see it.”

“Would you?”

“I am ever curious.” He raises a hand and flicks her nose. “Perhaps one day we can visit together?”

She giggles and looks back at him, cheeks flushed, eyes shining. She is so very pretty, lying here beside him, her wine-stained lips bright in the autumn air. The vintage is truly remarkable. They should have more immediately. He rolls over and presses a hand to her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. One moment passes, and another. When he finally kisses her, she melts into it with joy and clings to him as if she will never let go.

The wine goes forgotten that afternoon.

next →

[roseyreveries]

Far Away - 22

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Muggle!Reader Previous Part <- click! Summary: You wake up inside the Harry Potter universe without any explanation as to why you're there. Disclaimer: All characters are being aged up for PLOT (1st years are 15, 7th years are 21) but characters may act immature and childish in the beginning at times to keep their character development. Not accurate to the books or movies. CW: interrogation, almost crying, anxiety Directory <- click!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ .

The library was dim and quiet, the warm glow of a single lantern casting soft shadows across the table where the reader sat, scribbling absentmindedly in her notebook. The castle was still, most students long gone to bed, but I often found solace in the late-night silence.

Until I wasn’t alone anymore.

“Late night?” Hermione’s voice broke the stillness, making me jump slightly. Hermione slid into the chair across from me, her expression unreadable. She didn’t have a single book with her— a rare sight for Hermione Granger.

“Yeah,” I said carefully, sitting up straighter. “Just catching up on notes.”

“Notes,” Hermione repeated, her tone thoughtful. “You must take excellent notes.”

My stomach twisted at the comment, the seemingly harmless words carrying an edge I couldn’t quite place. “I guess so,” I said lightly. “Why?”

Hermione leaned forward, folding her hands neatly on the table. Her gaze was sharp, calculating, but not unkind. “Because you always seem to know things before they happen.”

I froze, my quill hovering above the parchment. “What?”

Hermione tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as if she were studying a particularly puzzling equation. “Like today in Transfiguration. You knew McGonagall was going to pair us off before she even said it. Or last week in Potions, when you said the exact ingredient Snape would ask for before he opened his mouth.”

My heartbeat quickened, but I forced herself to laugh softly. “Lucky guesses, I guess.”

Hermione didn’t smile. “And what about in Charms? You warned Lila that someone was going to mess up the levitation charm. You said it before they even picked up their wand. Or all the bets you make with Malfoy, winning every single time.”

My pulse roared in my ears. “I— I don’t know. Maybe I just notice things.”

“Do you?” Hermione asked, her voice growing sharper. “Or is it something else?”

I stared at her, my hands trembling slightly. “What are you getting at, Hermione?”

Hermione sat back in her chair, studying me intently. “You’re not like the rest of us,” she said simply. “You’re different.”

“Everyone’s different,” I said quickly, trying to deflect.

“Don’t do that,” Hermione said, her voice firm but not unkind. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean.”

My mouth went dry. “I don’t—”

“You’ve never heard of magical basics,” Hermione interrupted, her tone shifting into something closer to an interrogation. “You struggled to name even the simplest spells during our first lessons, but now you know things that even upper years wouldn’t. You weren’t just raised differently. You weren’t raised in this world, were you?”

My chest tightened as Hermione’s words hit like a punch to the gut. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” Hermione pressed, leaning closer. “You don’t react like someone raised in the magical world. Half the things we take for granted leave you completely confused. The other half? You know too much about. Far more than you should. It doesn’t add up.”

I clenched my hands under the table, my mind racing for an excuse, a deflection, anything. But Hermione wasn’t done.

“You’re a muggle, aren’t you?” Hermione said softly, her voice almost gentle now. “Not a muggle-born. A muggle.”

The silence between us stretched unbearably long. My heart pounded in my chest as I stared at Hermione, my face pale. “I don’t—”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Hermione said quickly, holding up a hand. “But I’m right, aren’t I?”

I looked down at the table, my hands trembling. I didn’t nod. I didn’t confirm it. But the silence was enough.

Hermione let out a soft breath, leaning back in her chair. “That’s how you know, isn’t it? About what’s going to happen.”

My head snapped up, panic flooding me. “Hermione, please—”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Hermione said quickly, her voice steady but her gaze unwavering. “I swear, I won’t. But I need to know. Are you here because of Dumbledore?”

I stared at her, her chest tightening painfully. Hermione was too smart, too quick. She’d already connected the dots.

“I can’t,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I can’t tell you.”

Hermione softened slightly, her expression shifting from calculating to concerned. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not safe,” I said, my voice trembling. “For me. For you. For everyone. If anyone finds out…”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Hermione repeated firmly. “I mean it. But you don’t have to do this alone.”

I shook my head, tears pricking at my eyes. “You don’t understand. I can’t. If I say anything… if I change anything…”

Hermione leaned forward, her voice quiet but resolute. “I understand more than you think. You’re carrying something huge, something none of us could imagine. But you don’t have to carry it by yourself.”

I hesitated, my walls crumbling as Hermione’s words sank in. I looked down at my trembling hands, my throat tight. “I’m scared,” I admitted softly.

Hermione’s expression softened further, her hand reaching across the table to rest gently on mine. “It’s okay to be scared. But I promise, you can trust me.”

I sat still, my head bowed as Hermione’s words settled heavily between us. I could feel Hermione’s gaze on me, sharp yet not unkind, waiting for me to say something.

Finally, Hermione spoke again, her voice quieter this time. “So it’s true, then? You’re… a muggle?”

I hesitated, then gave the smallest nod, my hands still trembling in my lap. I didn’t look up, afraid of what I might see in Hermione’s face— judgment, fear, pity. But none of that came.

Instead, Hermione let out a soft breath, leaning back slightly. “How? How is that even possible?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Dumbledore said it was because of a prophecy. Something about me being… important.”

Hermione’s brow furrowed, her sharp mind already racing. “But that doesn’t make sense. Muggles can’t use magic. You shouldn’t even be able to see Hogwarts, let alone study here.”

“I know,” I said, finally looking up. My eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “That’s why I can’t tell anyone. I don’t belong here.”

Hermione shook her head, her expression firm. “No. If Dumbledore brought you here, there has to be a reason. He wouldn’t do something like this without one.”

I swallowed hard, my voice trembling. “But what if the reason isn’t good? What if I’m not supposed to be here?”

Hermione fell silent, her gaze distant as she turned the problem over in her mind. “I don’t know,” she admitted after a moment. “But it makes me wonder…”

“Wonder what?” I asked, my chest tightening.

Hermione leaned forward again, her tone growing more serious. “Why would Dumbledore go to so much trouble to bring you here? Especially if you’re from… somewhere else. He must know how dangerous it is for you to be here.”

I nodded slowly, my voice soft. “He does. He told me not to interfere. Not to say anything about what I know.”

“What you know,” Hermione repeated, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You mean… the future?”

I hesitated, then nodded again. “And the past. Everything. I know what’s already happened, and I know what’s going to happen.”

Hermione leaned back, her expression caught between awe and suspicion. “That’s why you’ve been acting so strangely. You’ve been trying to avoid changing things.”

“Yes,” I admitted, my voice breaking slightly. “If I change anything, even the smallest thing, it could ruin everything.”

Hermione’s gaze softened as she watched me, her sharpness giving way to empathy. “That’s… an incredible burden,” she said softly. “No wonder you’ve been so anxious.”

I let out a shaky breath, my shoulders slumping. “It’s terrifying. And I can’t talk to anyone about it. Not even Dumbledore.”

Hermione frowned, her brows knitting together. “But why would he leave you to deal with this alone? If he brought you here, surely he should be helping you.”

I shook my head. “He said I have to figure it out on my own. That it’s part of… whatever I’m supposed to do.”

Hermione’s lips pressed into a thin line, her suspicion clear. “That’s not fair. He’s asking too much of you.”

“I don’t think I have a choice,” I said, my voice small.

Hermione was quiet for a moment, her gaze distant as she thought. Finally, she looked back at me, her expression resolute. “You’re not alone anymore,” she said firmly. “You can trust me. I’ll help you however I can.”

My chest tightened with gratitude, a small, tentative smile forming on my lips. “Thank you, Hermione.”

“But,” Hermione continued, her tone thoughtful, “I need to understand more. If you know everything… what exactly are you here to do? Why would a prophecy involve a muggle?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice trembling. “Dumbledore hasn’t told me much. Just that I’m supposed to help someone.”

“Help someone?” Hermione asked, her brow furrowing. “Who?”

I hesitated, my stomach twisting. I couldn’t say it— not yet. If Hermione knew the truth about Draco, it could complicate everything. “I don’t know,” I lied.

Hermione studied me for a moment, her sharp gaze unwavering. “Alright,” she said finally. “But if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here.”

I nodded, my throat tight with emotion. “Thank you.”

Hermione’s expression softened again, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re braver than you think, you know. I don’t know how you’ve managed this on your own.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” I said quietly.

“Well,” Hermione said, her smile widening, “you do now.”

We sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling between us. For the first time in a long time, I felt a flicker of relief, knowing I wasn’t entirely alone in my secret anymore.

But as Hermione glanced toward the library windows, her expression turned thoughtful once more. “I still think there’s more to this,” she said, her voice quiet. “Dumbledore’s keeping secrets. Big ones. And I intend to find out why.”

My stomach twisted with anxiety, but I didn’t argue. Hermione’s curiosity was unstoppable, and deep down, I knew Hermione was right.

Whatever Dumbledore’s reasons were, they weren’t the whole truth.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ .

Read the next part here! Join my Taglist! @ferntv @Katie_kinz @malfoy-mrsdracomalfoy @rea-the-person @strbrrylmnadee @jazzywinter

[anxresi]

…Isn’t it a bit late for April Fools Day?! 🤡🤣

I was going to just write a few snarky remarks in the tags, but fuck it… I have a bit of time on my hands right now, so let’s tackle these somewhat disingenuous statements one at a time shall we? Starting from the one in the top left hand corner, and working our way anti-clockwise around… *Cracks knuckles*

1. Yep. SO nice in fact, she doesn’t have any other noticeable character trait. ‘Niceness’ by itself doesn’t make you an interesting, intriguing or compelling character… it just makes you boring. In fact, I’m gonna have to work pretty damn hard to finish this off before I nod off just thinking about her… 🥱

2. …And this is a GOOD thing? It just proves how much the writers were DESPERATE to make her Chloe’s replacement they rushed virtually everything to do with her, including her rapid induction to ‘Hero’. Most of the other Miraculous users had to wait AGES to get their chance, and Lil Miss Perfect just turns up in Paris and gets her chance virtually the first day. It wasn’t earned, it wasn’t believable… it was just handed to her on a silver platter because… reasons. 😩

3. So what? This is just yet more evidence that this girl, a TOTAL STRANGER up to S4 is all of a sudden being treated like the queen of all Mary Sues. Just listen to all the endless shilling about her from the rest of the cast (especially Marinette and, more depressingly Plagg) Now imagine them said in Thomas Astruc’s voice as he lays his case against Chloe… and everything should become clear.

4. This means virtually nothing. Everyone gets their Miraculous permanently at the end of S5, so the fact she gets her’s 5th is just down to a quirk in sequence. If anything, I’m surprised she didn’t get it sooner… in another gratuitous ‘Take That’ to diehard Chloe fans… 😬

5. I don’t even have anything to say about this.. it calculates the precise sum of 0.00% in terms of her worth of a character. You got anything better?

6. Oh, you mean the same acting ‘skills’ that she used to manipulate her sister into pretending she ‘loved’ her and to carry that useless charm about?The thing is, everyone might’ve SAID her talent was great in that AWFUL Queen Banana episode… but it actually wasn’t. Just because the other characters say she’s the next Sophia Loren, doesn’t mean the viewers don’t have eyes and ears. But I guess if they’re stupid enough to fall for Lila’s incredibly obvious lies when the plot demands it, anything’s possible…

7. What, you like her colorful shoes? This is possible the only one I’ll grant you (they ARE pretty snazzy) but at the end of the day, they’re just pointless aesthetics. Anyone else could be wearing them, and the garish colors can’t blind us to her all-conquering mediocrity. Moving on…

8. Here’s a hint: NEVER use the word ‘objectively’ when the opposite is clearly true. She’s not just ‘sweet’, spending time with her is akin to being pinned down in Wonka’s chocolate factory being force-fed candy by all the Oompa-Lumpas until you literally explode. Not a pleasant experience in other words, thanks to the writers laying this sole facet on with a literal trowel and shovel.

As for the ‘sass’ part… nope, not seeing it. Unless you mean the occasional scene when she ‘deals’ with her sister… these parts were obviously only put in to throw red meat for the Chloe-hating sheep out there could hoot and holler at the screen (probably waking their parents up in the process) whilst screaming “SEE? THAT’S WHAT YOU GET!!” Well, I hope you’re happy now. You hapless lame-o’s.

9. Mary Sues don’t get ‘character assassinated’. They get bigged-up, cheered, given every resource in the show to be Da Best… but NEVER wrecked in that manner. Her sister, on the other hand… 😢

I would argue though, that what she is, is WORSE than character assassination… she’s an individual that never should’ve existed in the first place. In fact, I’d barely even describe her as a character. A plot device, a waste of space, a product of Thomas Astruc’s inexplicable raging hatred against Chloe maybe, but not a serious character. As the popular meme goes, Change My Mind (you won’t).

10. …You’re REALLY scraping the bottom of the barrel now, aren’t you?

Besides, this hasn't even been confirmed yet. We don't even know anything about the elusive Mr Lee, or even what he might think about his daughter being forcibly adopted by the Mayor. Something which I'm sure a show of such grandiosity and ambition will go into at great length.. Nah, just kidding!

Next, you’ll be telling me that somehow her sexuality is another reason to think she’s the best thing since sliced bread…

11. And there we have it (sigh). How terribly predictable. 🙄

I’ve already done a whole post thingie about how her being a lesbian and having a short-lived crush on Marinette was just imposed to get unearned brownie points from underrepresented communities when they won’t actually do anything with said revelation, so I’ll keep this short. Sufficed to say though, I feel like starting a hashtag… #TheGaysDeserveBetterThanZoe. Get it trending, peeps! 😎

12. Whatever you’re smoking, can I have some of it? This is crossing the line from ‘delusional’ to ‘crazy’ now. She’s remained as static as a statue since her opening episode, has NO room for change and growth due to the fact she was only brought in to replace Chloe and in that uncomfortably dull niche she’ll stay. Sorry, but just because you wish that she’d had any kind of interesting development doesn’t mean she has. Facts have a funny habit of getting in the way of the truth.

13. In turns of ticking boxes for diversity, French-Americans aren’t exactly a high priority IMHO. But sure if you think that makes her the bees knees (pun intended), you go ahead and celebrate it. 👍

14. So in conclusion, I do agree that Zoe Lee is indeed ‘Best’ character… (hears sharp intake of breathes all round) oops, I’m sorry. What I meant was ‘Pest’ character… in that just having her buzzing about in all her flawless Mary-Sue glory makes you just wanna reach for the bug spray.

You know, like you would for a pesky wasp during a delicious picnic. Because she’s Vesperia, get it? 🤪

The only upside to this sad situation is, from what I can tell (being strictly a non-watcher these days, you figure out why) the writers half-agree with me.

After all for such an 'amazing' character who's apparently achieved so much in her short time in the show... why is she barely featured? They must know, somewhere down deep in their artistic brains, she's a narrative dead zone.

A collection of tiresome off-the-shelf quirks, traits and spare parts (someone here said she was like a bad fanfiction self-insert... ABSOLUTELY RIGHT), loosely held together with visible stitching and hastily assembled together like Frankenstein's Monster for the most cynical of reasons.

She has no arguable reason to be in the show, apart from being a far inferior replacement to the potential mine of character development that someone like Chloe could've represented.

I guess Thomas really does hate complex characters who may overshadow his precious Marinette... or school bullies who traumatized him so much as a lil kid he specifically wrote someone into his show he could subsequently and systematically destroy (as the rumors go... but it wouldn't surprise me with THAT guy).

Now I’m off to bed, but let me end on at least ONE positive note for this much-maligned individual: She’s EXACTLY the kind of character a show like Miraculous Ladybug deserves… and if you like her, you deserve her too.

Now, good night. 🌝 🛌

[allthistrashtalkmakemeitchin]

Who Invited You

I've yet again borrowed Declan and Roxy Somerset from @myloveforhergoeson because, yes. This is based off a dream I woke up from lmao.

"Six grand!"

Donna parted the weighted burgundy curtains that separated the dressing room from the rest of the store. Her hair was partially mussed up from trying on various different dresses. If she told her seventeen year old self that she would be stuck in a dressing room of a high end store, she would have laughed at herself. Donna gently pulled at the tag to read it in the clearer light, but she didn't misread the price.

"You look smokin'!" Lila wolf whistled and leaned forward. Her vibrant hair was neon under the fluorescent lights.

Donna stopped in front of the mirror and turned every which way. The glittering dress caught the light, it was floor length and backless covered in sequins. Considering a gala was pretty fancy in industry standards, she would have to find something to cover her back tattoo. She loved the roses that crept up her spine, but execs in stuffy suits and ties might not be too keen about it.

Too Bad About Your Girl played over the sound system. Donna, Myron, and Lila paused. It's been a while since they last heard their music over the speakers. It wasn't like they were washed out or old, all three of them were in their late-to-mid thirties.

"Is everything alright, over here?" One of the clerks came over. She was the same lady who took one look at them and tried to direct them toward a more 'affordable' clothing store. "Are the prices more than what you hoped?"

"The prices are fine." Donna sucked on her teeth. Maybe it was on her for looking like she didn't belong in such a high end store, but she doubted that would make much of a difference.

The dress was gorgeous, but did she really want to pay six grand for something she would wear for a single night? It wasn't exactly something she could wear casually either. But the gold coloring of the dress complimented her bleached hair. Looking at the price tag again she sighed and lowered her head.

"I think you look hot as shit, those suits won't know what hit 'em!" Lila grinned and joined Donna at the mirror. "I mean look at you! That pretty face and those long gorgeous legs!" Lila squished Donna's cheeks together and giggled.

"I never said I wasn't going to buy the dress," Donna chuckled and swatted Lila's hands away. "But, six grand... Damn."

"We can afford it, now." Myron said from where he lounged on a beige cushioned seat.

"I'm so used to diving through the bargain bin, I don't know..."

"Wearing this is all about confidence." Lila grinned and pushed Donna's shoulders back. "The price doesn't matter as long as you wear it like it was born for you,"

"Oh! Maybe you could send a picture to that cute guy who's daughter you've been hanging out with, a photo of your outfit like all those kids do!"

"No!" Donna's face turned very red and she shook her head. "For one, that's insane. There's nothing between us, I'm just playfully teasing him."

"Can't believe you stopped having fun." Lila pouted.

"You can blame Nathaniel for that one,"

"When is this big party again?" Myron asked. "I don't have a suit, and as much as I love the girl talk. I need a suit."

"Party pooper." Lila stuck her tongue out at him.

"He's right." Donna smacked her arm. "We're on a tight schedule here. So, I'm buying this one and you're buying that blue one. Together, that's..." Donna tapped her chin as she tried to calculate in her head. "Eh, whatever." She shrugged and slipped between the curtains.

Although she was much more comfortable in casual wear, she had no qualms with wearing anything fancy. Other patrons at the high-end store gave her strange looks as she walked up to the cashier with her friends. If Donna was a decade or two younger she would have been embarrassed and insecure about all the stares or the hushed whispers, but it came with the job. In the industry, everything she did was a spectacle to her fans or haters.

The cashier with a bob cut was thoroughly stunned when Donna pulled out her debit card and flashed a toothy smile. She stared with wide eyes and possibly even contemplated her life choices on the spot. It didn't take long for them to pay. They were out of the store in a few minutes. The big white bag on her arm looked out of place with her burnt-orange leather jacket, patched jeans and faded band t-shirt. She ran a hand through her hair, pushing it back. The L.A. sun assaulted her eyes but Lilla pulled sunglasses out of nowhere.

~ ~ ~

"You're going to a gala?"

Declan Somerset was supposed to be back in Minnesota at the start of the week, but because of a snowstorm in Minnesota he was stuck in Los Angeles for a little while longer. As much as he was stressed about his job back home, it was nice to not be so lonely. He would never admit aloud just how lonely without Roxy around. For so long it had been him and his daughter at home but with her at work in Los Angeles it made things seem a lot less lively.

"Yeah! Gustavo said it was to get more traction for Big Time Rush!" Roxy's eyes sparkled as she hugged her songbook to her chest. "And if they like the music, then maybe I can tell them I wrote it!"

"Is Mrs. Knight going to the gala?"

"No, I don't think so." Roxy shook her head, slightly caught off-guard. She loved having her dad around, but after so long of not having him around it was a little strange.

"You don't have a chaperone?" Declan raised a brow.

"Technically, Kelly is our chaperone but she'll probably be with Gustavo the whole time." Roxy shrugged.

"I'll go, to keep you kids out of trouble." Declan chuckled. "Also to make sure nothing sketchy happens."

"Wait, really?" Roxy's eyes sparkled and a big smile tugged at her lips. "You'll go with us to the gala?"

"Yeah, I've had my fair share of galas back in the day. They're boring, but I don't doubt you and your friends will find a way to entertain yourselves." Declan chuckled and pulled her into a side hug.

"You went to galas?" Roxy's eyes widened. "Please! Tell me all about it!"

"There isn't much to tell," Declan shrugged. "The parties were boring, and the people at those parties were even more boring." He laughed.

"Oh! I have to figure out what I'm wearing!" Roxy gasped. "James would want to coordinate out outfits!" She gave her father a big hug and pulled away.

"I'll go tell Mrs. Knight I'll be chaperoning," Dec laughed as he let his daughter go.

~ ~ ~

"Oh, this takes me back."

Dec whistled as he stepped out of the car. He straightened out the suit he was thankful to find for a bargain, as much as Roxy wanted to pay he wouldn't let her. He would never be able to forgive himself. His daughter wore a lovely red dress and coordinated with her boyfriend James, the accents on his suit matched the red of her dress. It was simple, not too extravagant.

"Look, there's a buffet!" Carlos gasped. He grabbed Kendall's arm and pulled his friend over.

Roxy and her friends were in awe of the venue. Glorious marble floors, chestnut walls decorated with expensive art, golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling over head. The hall opened up to a large room lined with clothed tables by the edges. The buffet was in the other room, but there were signs on the floors pointing patrons to where it might be.

Declan was confident he would be able to find Kendall and Carlos at the buffet if he thought he truly lost them. Logan, Roxy and James stayed to the side in the big room. They sat at a table by the wall. He could tell that it was overwhelming for his daughter, but once she got her bearings she'd drag her boyfriend to join the others on the dancefloor.

For a moment, he swore someone wearing orange perfume was nearby. It was stronger than vanilla or lavender. And it wasn't like Declan came to the gala for any other reason than chaperone the five teenagers. The last thing he wanted was for someone to rope them into a shady deal. Amidst the dresses and suits, he swore he saw Donna across the room but when he looked again she was gone. Shaking his head, he checked the tables and confirmed Logan was the only one sitting down.

"Pleasure to see you here, love." Donna jumped. She nearly dropped the small white plate in her hand. She piled it high with various pastries.

That British accent belonged to the only person she knew. Whenever she made an entrance she tried to replicate it horribly. Heat rose to the surface of her skin. Donna tried to ignore the feeling in the pit of her stomach. His voice made her sick to her stomach.

"Are you still in the top ten or have they demoted you?" His voice was smooth and buttery, but she knew what venom hid behind it. She grabbed a cannoli and put it on her plate.

"I don't want to talk to you."

"Oh, and why's that?" She heard the pout in his voice but pressed on, moving down the buffet table.

"You know very well why I want nothing to do with you."

"It's too bad, you look smashing in that dress. I can only imagine it took quite a chunk out of your savings." Nathaniel slyly grinned. He was trying way too hard to get under her skin.

Donna scowled and walked away. She took a seat at one of the vacant tables and leaned her cheek in her palm. There was no doubt in her mind that galas were quite boring, she had only attended one of these when Orange Rust first started. But, knowing Nathaniel was here meant The Burbs followed him. His posh rock band from across the pond was the bane of her existence. She tried to pretend he didn't get under her skin, but she was scorned once already and was in no mood to let that happen again.

Sitting alone wasn't a high light of her evening, but while Myron and Lila schmoozed with the execs in suits she was left by herself. It wasn't all that bad, but once in a while she would catch a glimpse of Nathaniel across the room and her stomach would twist in knots. But she had to admit the pastries were decadent. If she had her purse and a few Ziploc bags she could take as much as she could to take home.

Donna wasn't sure if she should let the plate stay on her table or if she needs to put it somewhere special. On her way to find out where the dirty dishes go, she bumped into someone.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" She half expected to have bumped into an exec, but she was pleasantly surprised it was Declan.

Wait, Declan?

"No, no. It's alright!" Declan wiped the crumbs off his suit jacket and laughed heartily. She wouldn't have recognized him. Her brain went numb. He looked so nice in a suit. "You can't figure out where they go either, can you?" His smile was so warm.

Donna's giggle was high pitched and she looked away. What was wrong with her? Why did she freeze up like a bashful teenager?

"Well- Well you never know, fancy people have all kinds of rules." If her hair were longer she would have idly twirled a strand around her finger. It wasn't often she was this flustered. "What are- What are you doing here?"

"Chaperoning my daughter and her friends,"

"They're here?" Donna's eyes widened a fraction. "Like, Gustavo invited them?"

"Yeah, why?" Declan raised a brow. He wasn't alarmed, but her alarm was getting to him a little bit.

"Donna!" Nathaniel smiled brightly and casually draped an arm over her shoulders. She tensed up, her smile no longer emotive. Her eyes were screaming discontent.

"I'm sorry, I don't think we've met."

"Nathaniel Dunlop, perhaps you've heard of The Burbs." He tucked Donna into his side like she an accessory. "Any friend of D's is a friend of mine." He chuckled and held a hand out.

Donna squirmed, taking his arm off her shoulders. His touch made her recoil, no matter how unprofessional it may seem. She didn't need to win him over, if anything she wanted him to go away but refrained from making a scene.

"Declan, this is the red-coat from across the pond." Her voice was as tense as she was.

"Red-coat? I think we're more familiar than that, dear." Nathaniel leaned close to her.

Declan didn't want to assume anything, but he might be right about the British man feeling threatened. It was in the way he spoke, and the way he regarded her. But Donna wanted nothing to do with him. Declan didn't want to step in unless it was direly needed.

"Yankee, red-coat. Same thing." Donna leaned away as politely as she could. "Either way, your presence isn't needed." She laughed it off as a joke.

"Oh, don't be like that. I'm sure your new friend would love to hear all about our past."

"Haha. No." Declan went from laughing to stone faced in the blink of an eye. "I don't even know who you are, or your band."

"What?" Nathaniel's eyes bugged out of his head. "The Burbs are far better than that American slop you pass off as music!"

"Nate," a blonde purred and sidled up to him. "Come dance with me."

"Apologies, but I can't let the lady down." Nathaniel chuckled and let the girl drag him away.

Declan's main priority was making sure the kids didn't get into too much trouble. He was content with watching the five teens have as much fun as they could dancing amidst the crowd. Although it was formal dancing, and he himself didn't have much practice in that department it was better that the kids were having fun. Neither he nor Donna could figure out what to do with their dirty/lightly-used plates from the buffet so they kept them at their tables.

Once in a while Nathaniel would lean away from the blonde he brought to the gala with him and would wink at her. Every fiber of her being revolted. Tapping her nails on the clothed table she sighed and leaned her chin in her palm. Lila and Myron were messing around on the dance floor having fun, and it was nice to see her childhood friends letting loose.

Declan practically had two left feet when it came to dancing, but he felt a bit bad seeing her all alone. Seeing as he knew where all the kids were, it wouldn't be that bad if he asked her to dance. For some reason, he felt like a teenager at prom when he approached her table.

Roxy spotted her dad from where she was with James and whispered something to her boyfriend. She couldn't contain the grin on her face as they moved across the floor to get closer. At first, she was afraid her dad would stay on the sidelines away from the fun but it put her at ease that he at least had someone to spend time with.

[purplebass]

I was at that part in adsom where Holland stops Kell before he can go to White London to reunite the black stone with the other piece and face the twins and they fight again. This is the second or third time they have a face off. Kell knows Holland could potentially kill him if he wanted to because he is stronger, older, compelled and emotionless, and in a way, Kell wants that. Death. He toys with the idea of dying because he is different, he is as much of a slave as Holland is. He believes that death will free him, somehow, because he knows that if he isn't a servant of the house Maresh, he can't be anything because a person like him would always be someone's prized possession. And Holland is probably the same. In his case, though, death would indeed be liberating because he's been subjected to worse torture than Kell, who, in comparison, grew up as a servant but a servant living in the royal quarters and eating with the royal family nonetheless. In two out of three instances where Holland faces Kell, Lila is involved too. She's like a pole in between them because she has this death drive too, but for other reasons. She doesn't want to die at the hand of Holland, she'd rather die doing something great. And doesn't want Kell to die either, and two times she manages to save him and herself from Holland's wrath and teether Kell back to reason. To the Lila in ADSOM (as I'm talking about Book #1 here), Holland must die and she doesn't care how. That's because she only met Holland right then and only knew him as a ruthless magician. But Kell is different. He's known him for years, and even though he knows he committed crimes, hurt him, hurt Lila, hurt people, he is still benevolent towards him and doesn't think twice when he decides to take Holland's body with him because he deserves that at least. Holland used to be a man just like him until someone betrayed him. Kell understands Holland's situation quite well and feels empathetic. All of this to say that Kell is often guided by his feelings when it comes to other people (see for example how he saved Rhy in Book 1 as well) while Lila's actions are more calculated, rational, logical (even though she looks irrational - remember Hamlet: Though this be madness, yet there is method in't.). Compelled!Holland is 100% rational but I'm sure he was quite like Kell before compulsion. Sometimes, that is a person's downfall. Their heart.

[fabrowrites]

For the ask game: you've got an improbable number of fics I'm not caught up on, so here comes a great big shiny

⭐

Hi Lila! tysm! you get the director's cut of Dosimetry!

Together they don their suits, gather their equipment, and ascend the ladder to the topside. Golden light floods down on them from seemingly everywhere at once, leaving no shadows to hide in. Kai’s breath hitches as the ruined point of Borg Tower rises into view. He hasn’t returned since that fateful day. or: Kai and Nya at the end of the world

So Dosimetry was originally written for a writing prompt challenge of "write about a ninja merging with their element." I chose Lloyd :D

The story takes place in an alternate s3, specifically canon-divergent post Enter the Digiverse. We open in media res with Kai and Nya, because I'm predictable XD

“I’m going up,” Kai says, throwing his jacket onto the bed as he enters their shared room.

Two things immediately:

"I'm going up" creates a "below" where Kai and the reader are

He's sharing a room with someone, implying (a) a lack of space and/or (b) a desire to be close to someone else.

Behind him, Nya’s pen clatters to the table.   “I’m coming too.” Kai freezes.  “No,” he says, spinning around.  “No, you can’t.  You don’t have any powers.” Nya gives him a sharp glare.  “Like fire is going to protect you out there,” she retorts, standing.

Dew from NWoD actually commented on this when she was reading Dosimetry, but there's not very much setting or description at the beginning (or really for the whole fic). This is due to the fact that I am (a) bad at descriptions, (b) limited by the challenge's word count, and (c) actually trying to create a sense of emptiness and utility.

Kai shoves the manhole cover aside.  Golden light floods down on them from seemingly everywhere at once, leaving no shadows to hide in.  It sets off his EPD counter’s mechanical clicking – slow, good.  It’s impossible not to trigger it on the topside, but as long as it stays this slow, they’re safe. Well, as safe as one can be when exposed to the criticality.

a little nod to the s3 manhole scene! we're also dropping some more terms that, if you combine them with the title, might start to paint a picture of what's going on.

It’s not the criticality.  Their counters would be going haywire if it were.  But there’s more than just exposure to worry about on the topside – only the desperate linger up here, and he edges in front of Nya, reaching for his sword.  Fire is dangerous here, bright and bold and full of energy as it is.  Behind him, he hears Nya readying her chakram.

This is just me begging Lego to let Nya use chakram again pls pls she'd be so cool

Click. Click, click, click click clickclick clickclickclickclickclick – Kai’s head snaps up.  His horrified eyes find Nya’s. Light as bright as the sun, light that burns a hole through the universe.  Light that thralls, that dazzles, that kills.

aw ye here we go! it's criticality time baby :D I actually really like how I formatted this part back when I was experimenting with Transfiguration compared to ao3.

In case it hasn't come together for you yet, we're dealing with an entire nuclear disaster situation here :D

You can actually blame Markiplier for this one, like the dominoes meme. I watched his video playing the Liquidators a summer ago and was hooked (here's my plug to go watch Kyle Hill on YouTube if you want to follow me down this rabbit hole XD) As explained by Wikipedia, which does it much better than I can:

Criticality occurs when sufficient fissile material (a critical mass) accumulates in a small volume such that each fission, on average, produces a neutron that in turn strikes another fissile atom causing another fission; this causes the chain reaction to become self-sustaining within the mass of material.

A critical mass accumulated in a small volume.

All the energy of creation, merged with one small body.

(Dosimetry, by the way, is "the measurement, calculation and assessment of the ionizing radiation dose absorbed by an object, usually the human body" - Wikipedia, emphasis added by me.)

A boy with unseeing golden eyes reaches out his hands. “W H Y  A M  I  A L O N E?  W H E R E  A R E  Y O U?”

The final lines of the criticality are a callback to "Enter the Digiverse."

Lloyd: I am not alone. I am not alone.

So that's Dosimetry! ad;fksjlgasdhjl this got way out of hand but thanks for letting me ramble, lila! this was really fun :D