#i have chapters for 3 fics competing to be written right now

[novarex]

I have SO MUCH actual job work today and dumb, feral brain is like "I'm reeeeady to write, hoe! Boot up the smut writing machine!" And I just gotta sit here in Zoom meetings, talking to clients, and sending business emails with a brain full of elf dick.

[aliensunflower-fics]

My Recommended Fic List

So, I got this ask awhile ago, and since I have been re-reading a bunch of my old favorite fics as a way to cheer up after work I figured why not. This list will be long... and varied but mostly its older fics cuz idk there my favs. Now lets go:

Fashion Upgrade - By @soap-lady : Straight up one of my favorite fics ever, its fun, its creative, it never fails to make me laugh when I need something warm and wholesome after a bad day. Also go check out the rest of her stuff there's so much good okay like shes just a writing queen. Shes on AO3 I don't want to spoil you on her other stuff just GO experience it for yourself.

Ode To Decoy pt 1 / 2 / 3 - By @a-marlene-s : Ive always liked this short sweet little fic about Lila getting caught. Its Lila + class salt though so avoid if that's not your flavor.

EVERYTHING - By @unmaskedagain : They have salt, they have sugar, they have funny, they have crossovers. Like honestly they are a just a great writer with so much variety so go check out the masterlist I linked and I guarantee there will be something there you like.

@ravennm84 Is a writer on the saltier side but they have a wonderful selection of weird wacky tales from the salty but oh so well written Damning Evidence that sees Lila get caught in the best way to the 3 part Horror inspired Serafina other great fics from them include Marinettes Family Court Circus pt 1 / 2 and Of Moldy Bread and Cockroaches / Be Kind to Servers honestly its worth giving there blog a look.

@mochinek0 Is another writer with several beloved fics. They write a lot of Maribat and we love them for it. Ones to check out would be Blind Date / Bruce vs Gabriel just go check out there tag list of daminette for more.

Accidental Crime Boss Marinette - By @lady-literature : This is a wonderful idea and a wonderful little fic and I just... I just like it okay. Sadly I haven't read a lot of there other stuff... But I might after finishing this list considering how much I enjoy this one.

@nobodyfamousposts I love a LOT of there fics. They are one of the best when it comes to striking that sweet spot of calling out the show for some of its garbage while not getting so salty that you cant have fun lighthearted goodness. I have been looking for a masterlist of there work but cant find one so just go stalk there tags. I do recommend there Chloe's Lament Series 1 / 2 exploring how certain 'wishes' would backfire. Guardian Assistant Kevin is also a good one Miracle Queen Aftermath pt 1 / 2 / The 8 parter Burn the Witch series / The Wisdom Teeth Reveal / Kagami Vs The Wall of Faces / Resigning With Grace & Spite / I tried to give a lot of links cuz they have a lot of stuff

Kill Them With Kindness - By @luki-fanfic : Well written, good salt without going overboard. Just good vibes. I havent stalked there other stuff but if its anything like this fic its probably excellent quality.

Stephen Vladislav pt 1 / 2 - By @stormiclown : Adrien centered salt on the idea of finally giving Adrien his own proper rival. I like the idea of Adrien having a rival because its usually Marinette and this was just the right length to get those creative ideas flowing. Also just well written what more can you ask for.

Power Trip - By @storygirl000 : This was the first fic that made me go... Wait would it be more fun if Lila was actually competent? And that set me on the path to writing my own fics where Lila is more villainous and more capable. Its short, well written. Good.

Your Wish is My Command - By DemiGoddess28 on AO3 : A great 11 chapter fic looking into Lila's life if she were to win and get a miraculous wish. Its got sugary goodness for our protagonists and the class and salt for our dearest friend Lila.

LadyBugOut AU - By Miraculous-Content on AO3 : A 50 chapter fic made up of snippets and ideas. I found it really inspiring in many ways. I also love how it redeems Marinettes classmates showing how and why they were tricked but holding them accountable anyway its just... Good.

Juleka vs The Forces of the Universe - By goldenlaurelleaves on AO3 : For those of us not yet ready to accept the death of luka/mari we have this wonderful fic showing Juleka being the biggest wingman as she helps these idiots find there way together.

ChaoticNeutral on AO3 has there own Chloe's Lament fic as well as a Gabriel's Lament fic for people who need sweet salty of those two characters.

BroadwayCutie16 was Inspired by the person above and DemiGoddesses your wish is my command fic to write Lila's Lament fic going over Lilas failed wish. Honestly I always love these fics because there just so interesting and the way wishes can be taken and twisted is always a fascinating idea to me.

#WayneAngel - By Tired-Writing-Teach on AO3 : For us Maribat lovers. Its fun and lighthearted with some good gags and some light fluff.

Damian in Paris - By Lilliesandliveries on AO3 : A sweet Maribat series showing what would happen if Damian ran away from home and found himself in Paris and getting therapy.

How a Demon Commissions an Angel - By AlixAnonymous : Damian blackmails Marinette into letting him be her client so he can get his bros the best gifts, they end up becoming penpal buddies.

Mythomania - By LadyEnna_50 on AO3 : Proof that I dont hate Adrien or Mari/Adrien. In this fic Adrien's spine gets titanium plating and he sees just how bad Lila is hurting Marinette and does something about it.

The Contingency - By AbyssalGuardian on AO3 : SALT. Also Tim/Mari but even still I love the way this was written, the style, and some of the ideas just ugh love it. Its not for those who dont like salt so just avoid at your own discretion. Its about a chaotic Marinette done with her life running away to Gotham where she meets her true black cat, and gets her life back on track.

The String That Binds Us - By FaithAndATypeWriter on AO3 : Okay so is there any Mari/Bat fan who hasnt already heard of this one? Who cares its good, its cute, I love it. May the author be blessed with snacks.

The Great IKEA Game - By @batsandbugs : Okay again... I think every Mari/Bat fan has probably heard of this one already because its just that good and that popular. But who cares I am recommending it anyway. Don't read if your allergic to fun I guess.

If this list still doesn't somehow have enough salt for you then try @goggles-mcgee fics here is a link to there Masterlist. They are in a way a professional at salt and angst and they make you want to adopt Marinette and pop her in a blanket fort.

Honestly I could keep going but this list already feels so long for other great recs though I can link you to @jayphoenic who has some great Daminette Fic Recs and some Lila Salt Fic Recs!

Feel free to reblog this and add some links to stuff you would think I or others might like! Also lets just acknowledge how many talented authors the community has like wow.

[sabraeal]

The Man of Progress, Chapter 4

[Read on AO3]

Written for @infinitelystrangemachinex who has not only been very patiently been waiting nearly two weeks for this birthday fic, but beta read it TWICE in one week so I could turn this around within a week of Act 3 airing. Since I think we all could use...something else to think of right now 🤣

Pretty manners might keep any clansman in good standing from daring to venture the question, and a personal precedent to refuse answering any inquiry without compensation might keep her from giving it, but there’s no shame— in Mel’s mind, at least— in admitting that she is just shy of three decades. That might make her an old crone according to some of her more distant cousins; the kind that merely cling to Medarda’s coattails, only caring about investments and opportunities the clan makes when it affects the amount of money left in their pockets.

But to her, that is nearly twenty years of experience. The proof of a comprehensive education in keeping this clan afloat, even in its leanest years. A testament to her knowledge and skill, a record of competence—

And yet one step beneath these vaulted ceilings, and she might as well be that small girl child from Noxus once again, still smelling of blood and sand as they herded her into the master’s study. Even now she can picture their pinched smiles, worry and suspicion carving furrows at the corner of her cousins’ eyes.

“I wonder if you understand the scope of what you mean to do.” Master Jago does not so much speak as croak these days, his once sonorous voice interrupted by the pops and crackles of age; a victrola’s skipping needle on the record of time. “It was Medarda who cast the Sun Gates' first gears.”

Mel stifles a snort, pacing the length of a shelf, fingers tracing over the master’s trophies; a carved dunpor horn from Stonewall, the dried husk of a honeyfruit from Palclyff, two entwined statues from Demacia with wings spread wide. Ridiculous to think that she needed to be reminded of their contributions, as if her tutors hadn’t had her memorize those accounts down to the washer barely a week after Ambessa dropped her at their doorstep.

As if Jago hadn’t handpicked her himself to be their representative on the council, hadn’t called her ‘the most Medarda of all of them,’ as shrewd and sensible and relentlessly ruthless as any of the old cog-clutching misers that preceded her. The only difference between their service to the clan and hers was that she looked good doing it. “Isn’t it fitting, then, that we should be at the forefront of Piltover’s next great venture?”

“A more prudent one would have been to use this Hextech to strengthen our current investments.” Jago’s hands are parchment pale as they tremble over his desk, wrinkled as an bank note discarded in the bin, but when he takes up his pen, there’s not a bit of him that isn’t steady, as sharp as the nib he sets to page. “If the Sun Gates were able to pass ships through fifty percent higher than our current rate, then that would put us near Clan Ferros in terms of wealth generated per day—”

“And they would somehow find some way to pick at our profits, either through maintenance or manpower.” For a man who professed to have no interest in running his clan, Albus has a keen sense of how to wedge his elbow into every door, turning any opportunity for one clan into an unmitigated triumph for his. “Even if our current ventures vest as they should, we’ll still be left nipping at Ferros’ heels. But if we were to put our considerable assets behind something new, something bold, then we have a chance to not just pull ahead of the other families, but to set the pace entirely.”

Jago had been halfway to gray when she’d been dropped on Medarda’s doorstep, but the brows he furrows now are whitecap pale, one disappearing behind the golden frame of his monocle. “You present a compelling point, as always, Mel.”

It would be foolish to preen under the master’s praise— she’s no longer a child in the schoolroom, proving that she has sufficiently mastered her sums, after all— but Mel allows herself a moment to bask in the flush of her accomplishment. To even let her shoulders relax— no slumping, and never slouching, but not entirely square. A moment of repose, well earned.

That is, of course, until Master Jago says, “However…”

Her spine snaps straight, even as her steps remain languid, confident, as if she anticipated his doubt. “I have handled all the arrangements,” she assures him, circling behind his chair until only her voice and the steady staccato of her heels mark her. “Not only will the presentation be sure to impress even Hextech’s staunchest critics, but there will be no question as to which clan has chosen to back the venture. The Sun Gates ushered in a new age of progress for Piltover two hundred years ago, and the Hexgate will do the same now.”

“I have no doubt you have seen to all the details, my girl.” Her cousins might murmur that one day Master Jago will lose his edge, that senility will come for him the way it does every man and take Medarda with it, but the eyes that swing to her now are still sharp, wheels and cogs in the great machine of his mind still running with a young man’s ease. “But Medarda has long made its fortune on maritime trade routes. These are not seafaring vessels, but…”

“There is no reason to worry, Master.” His shoulder is thin beneath her hand, frailer than she remembers. Still, she keeps her grip firm, if gentle. “I don’t imagine you acquired that sky frigate a few years ago with no intent to use it, did you?”

“Of course I didn’t.” One absent hand reaches up to touch hers; an afterthought, if a fond one. “It doesn’t do to be beholden to only one form of trade. You only need to look at the Hollorans to see what happens when you allow yourself to fall beneath the wheel of progress.”

“Then Medarda is already poised to take advantage of the new avenues for trade that the Hexgate can open to us.” She steps past him, hand leaving his shoulder to trace along the contours of his desk. How large this thing had seemed as a girl— an entire other country, never to be traversed. And now she skirts around the perimeter of it with no more than a stretch of a leg or two. “Only a few families have bothered to buy into sky ships, and those are nearly all pleasure barges. Not a single one of them is fit for long distances with heavy cargo.”

“It will astound you how quickly those things can change.” He laughs— a heavy, rolling noise, more like thunder than humor— but the stare he fixes her with is stern, sober. If she were more given to drama, she might even call it dire. “Only this morning, the papers said Albus Ferros planned to finance a significant portion of Hextech research. How certain are you that he will not simply shut you out from your plans when they’ve advanced far enough and reap the benefits all on his own?”

It’s certainly not out of the realm of possibility, as uncomfortable as it is to admit. Talis plays the part of a man of the people, just one engineer out of the hundreds of genius inventors the Academy has put out, pulling himself up by the bootstraps to change the world— and he plays it well. But he’s not that humble engineer, no matter how well he swings a hammer; he’s the scion of one of Piltover’s merchant clans, even if their circumstances are much diminished, and as eager to prove himself among them as any master’s son. If she can sway him with a sashay and a smile, Ferros could just as easily with an open purse and a pat on the back. Even now she can see it, those two sets of broad shoulders— one natural, one entirely engineered— rubbing as they bend over some schematic, shaking hands as coins rattle one after the other on the workbench.

But then she pictures that constructed bit of posture turning around, glaring over his mustache at the curved spine in the corner, more grease than man, and laughs.

“Quite sure, my dear Master Jago,” she says, smile slanting over her lips. “But I must admit, I’d love to see him try.”

*

The morning still clings stubbornly to the horizon when Mel emerges from the Medarda manor, none the worse for wear. It’s too early; Master Jago might prefer to have his business done by tea, but it's hours yet before any councilman would dare to show their face at the office, the fog not even burnt off from the dawn’s chill. It sits thick on the cobbles, eddying around the sway of her skirt, leaving an unpleasant draft against her ankles.

“You’ll be off then, Councilor?” one of the grooms asks, pushing off from where he’d been leaning on the carriage’s cab, making time with what seemed to be a gardener.

“That I will.” She takes his offered hand— appropriately gloved, black, and sturdy for the purpose— and asks, “Is your mother feeling better, by the way?”

There’s a single moment of hesitation, a small hiccup between one blink and the next that leaves room for his cheeks to flush and his tongue to flop around like a loose cog before snapping right into smiling place. “Much, ma’am. And I’m supposed to pass on her thanks— for the tonic, she says. Got rid of the cough right away.”

“Think nothing of it.” Impossible, she knows, but humility assures more goodwill than lofty benevolence. And a squeeze of the hand— not too much; just shy of an invitation— wins more loyalty than words ever could. “It was the least I could do.”

The man’s too well-trained to gawp or gape— Medarda isn’t in the habit of hiring hayseeds fresh off the wagons, after all— but his wide eyes weigh on her as she ducks into the carriage, warm as a hand laid against her spine. There’s one less tongue to wag itself at the master the moment he glares its way; important, if she’s going to pull this snare tight without Jago’s long fingers tangling in the knots.

A sigh slips from her as she sits, fogging a sliver of the carriage’s glass. “I trust everything is set for the reception?”

“Yes, Councilor.” Engineers could use Elora’s spine as a slide-rule for how stiff she sits on the bench, collar and hemline pin-straight, perfect. Another flawless cog in Medarda’s great machine. “Your meeting went well?”

“As well as can be expected.” Better, but Mel’s hardly fool enough to admit it where it might work back to Jago’s ears. Elora may be her personal assistant, secretary, and the closest she comes to a confidant, but it’s not from her accounts that Medarda pulls the cogs to pay salary. “Do I have any other engagements today?”

Elora glances down at the notes in her lap, even the line of her jaw precise, if not the bend of her mouth, too worried to meet proper angles. “The atelier you requested is sending over samples this afternoon.”

“Really.” Mel leans back, frowning at where the Academy juts up from Piltover’s skyline, its towers far above the fog of the city below. “They’ll be acceptable this time, I assume.”

“They have been informed of your particular specifications.” A corner of Elora’s too-serious mouth lifts, almost a smirk. “No blue, no beige, no white. Something impressive.”

Mel snorts. “Let us hope that they pay attention this time. If I have to hear that man preach to me about visions or muses again just because he can’t envisage a color darker than cream…”

“Any other modiste in the city would trip over themselves to dress you,” Elora assures her, quick as reflex. But it’s not simply comforting patter, oh no; she’s already flipping through her notes, finding names. “It would be short notice, but it’s not as if we can’t afford to pay them for the rush. If they even thought to ask.”

“We would pay them for their hard work whether they asked for it or not.” The other clansmen might clutch to cogs and account for every nut down to the washer, but Mel prefers to deal in a more valuable currency. “But hopefully our dear modiste does not get it into his head that he knows my preferences better than I do, and we are saved the trouble of finding out.”

Elora’s mouth rumples, unconvinced, but her fingers cease to flip pages. “As long as you’re sure. We could start contacting a few of the more fashionable houses to see if they could promise a complete product, just in case—”

Mel holds up a hand. Better to beg for a dress at the eleventh hour than to be seen undermining one of their fellow dressmakers the day before. “Let us believe that he can at least put out one sample that meets our expectations. At least for now.”

Modistes might have a reputation for nipping at each other’s backs, having as many petty quarrels as the council itself with just as disastrous consequences, but all it would take is one perceived insult to turn them all into dear colleagues— and leave her quite in the lurch.

A lone sky ship putters through the clouds; a heavy, ungainly thing that wobbles as the wind eddies around its bulk. There’s another slouching over the horizon, propellers struggling to keep the whole of it aloft instead of fumbling toward the sea. Pleasure barges; one more and it would be as many as she’s ever seen floating at once. The merchant clans might tout progress as their business and innovation as their creed, but when they envisioned the future of Piltover, this was still what they saw— a city dominated by the Academy.

Mel squints at its peaked roofs, clouds catching the thrust of its golden spires, and asks, “Is that all?”

“That’s all,” Elora confirms, hands folding over paper and ink. “They’re not supposed to be by until later this afternoon, so if you wanted to head to the Council Building before—?”

“Hardly.” She leans forward, drawing down the trumpet that leads up to the driver’s box. “To the Academy, if you would, Mr Gallow. I would be most appreciative.”

The carriage lurches to the left, hurtling down the familiar cobbles, and Elora’s frown furrows deeper into her cheeks. “The Academy? What business do you have there?”

“Why, to check up on my favorite investment, of course.” Mel leans her arm on the rest, letting her gaze drift back to those ivory towers, considering. “If we’re having all of Piltover out to see this little bit of theater, I’d like to know we have an actual show to put on.”

*

“The presentation is only two days away,” Elora reminds her as she chases her heels up the academy steps, practically bleeding paper on the marble. “Nearly all our guests have RSVP’d.”

“You don’t need to remind me.” The Academy has always been an impressive edifice, a marvel of modern engineering— and hell on the legs, if one didn’t navigate stairways poro-back. Still, she mounts each one with the ease of habit, hand only just brushing over the rail rather than Elora’s life-line clutch. “Why do you think I’m here?”

Her assistant blinks up at the labs looming before them, just as stately as the lecture halls— and certainly far nicer than the warehouse in Midtown, only suited to contain occasional explosions of genius. “You don’t think it’s done?”

A laugh spills right off her lips, as airy as it is wry. “You don’t know many engineers, do you?”

The question catches Elora by surprise; she lags behind a step, then two, before she scurries to keep pace. “It’s just…Mr Talis’s presentations are so polished. I can’t imagine him leaving anything to the last minute— not something so important, at least.”

So one might be tempted to think, so long as they had not witnessed Talis more than ten minutes pre-symposium. The Master of Ceremonies could be cutting his teeth on the glowing words of their introduction, and both those Academy boys would be on their knees backstage with wrench in hand, tightening bolts until the curtains rose.

Knowing Viktor, he’d still insist they were one last tweak from perfection, sending Talis to beg for five more minutes— ten, twenty, just an hour, surely she could give them one more day?— to work. Just one last distraction before the masses got to take their peek behind the curtain.

Mel snorts. “It’s not Mr Talis that I’m worried about.”

Elora’s brow furrows. “Then who—?”

The lab’s glass facade does not so much open as burst; at one moment a long, endless bank of mirrored windows, and the next, hinges squeal their protest as the atrium doors fly open, disgorging an entire entourage of trousers and waists, open-cut coats fluttering in the breeze of their brisk pace.

“Reginald.” The voice is as bold— brassy, one might even say— as the cogs capping Ferros’s shoulders, ringing out across the pavilion with all the pomp of a man used to being heard. “I want results, not numbers. Make it happen.”

The man scurries off on Ferros’s business, but he could be bowing and scraping and crawling on his belly still for all that Ferros notices, swaggering down the steps with the confidence of kings. Piltover prided itself on its meritocracy, boasting that without lords and peers, any man may make himself into a master if only he worked hard enough. But it was men like Ferros— born clansmen, ones who had enough hexes to be patrons rather than the patronized— who seemed to succeed, standing on the backs of brighter minds and pretending to more talents than simply sussing con from coup.

“Councilor Medarda.” The man smiles with all the warmth of a shark in chummed waters. “What a pleasure to see you here.”

“Albus.” She inclines her head, letting him take her hand between his two over-large ones, swallowing her up to the wrist. Thankfully he refrains from doing anything so crass as pressing his lips to it. “The pleasure is all mine.”

“I doubt it.” His mustache twitches at a corner, threatening to lift, to smirk. “You must be here to take a gander at what my boys have been up to.”

His boys. Her smile nearly creaks. “I just came by to make sure that everything was prepared for the presentation. Only a few days left, after all, and Medarda has put quite a bit behind this technology of theirs. We’re quite invested in making sure there’s no…surprises before the curtain rises.”

Such as not having a functioning prototype. Clan Cadwalder had never quite recovered from their last little slip up— fifteen years ago, by her count— and Mel had no intention of making Medarda suffer the same shame. She hasn’t clawed them this far up Piltover’s wheel of progress to be shoved back down by trusting engineers to meet a deadline. Especially not these engineers.

“Of course, of course.” There’s a smoothness to the way Ferros speaks, leaving the gravel of his voice to catch on it like a callus on silk. “Mr Talis’s project would be quite the boon for Medarda and its investments, should it pay off. One you must sorely need, since those summer storms off Demacia have made your foreign ones…slow to mature.”

Sunk to the bottom of the Conqueror’s Sea, he means— or at least, his shark-smile implies, eager to feast upon misfortune. He’d gotten their taste not long ago, and oh, it seems he’s ravenous for more. Pity she’ll have to disappoint him.

“Your concern is touching, Albus,” she drawls, brushing her fingers just beneath his cogs. “But Medarda has been sailing their ships down that strait since before the Sun Gates’ first cog was a sparkle in our eye. A few summer squalls won’t scuttle our ships or our investments— we know better than to count our coins before they cross our palms, or ships before they come into harbor.”

That mustache twitches again, grin stretching to grimace before finding good humor again, and pride pulls those bronze cogs even broader. “Excellent to hear. Medarda has always had a history of…over-reliance on its foreign connections. A pity when there is so much profit to be made relying on good old Piltoverian stock.”

“When it comes to innovation, I suppose, we can hardly disagree.” Her hand presses against the fine wool of his coat, patting the sloped shoulders he’s trying so hard to conceal. That was ever Ferros’s way— covering weakness with a show of strength, whether it be a poorly worded trade agreement with a display of wealth, or a weak upper lip with a ridiculous mustache. “Progress Day would hardly be much of a celebration of Piltover’s prowess if Medarda hadn’t commissioned every gear to be made in our own forges.”

“Well said,” he drawls, like a man marinating more than a few arguments of his own. “I must admit, I didn’t think you would be so appreciative of Piltover’s place in history. Few are, outside of these walls.”

Mel blinks, fingers flinching back from where they rest. They hang in the air for a bare moment, tension coiled down to the knuckles, before she lets them fall. A controlled descent, poised, like a skipping needle set back on its groove.

An amateur might stretch a smile across their teeth, making bone act as a buttress, as if more structure would solve the need for motivation. But Mel is an expert in insincerity, letting her lips lilt instead, humor implied by angle rather than earnestness by length. “And we’re all the poorer for it. Just think what our engineers might achieve if only they had competition to compel them.”

There’s a sharp jerk that of that mustache, a spasm that resembles a furred creature’s death throes more than a facial twitch, before it settles into one of his patronizing smirks. Or at least the shadow of one; Ferros barely able to hold its shape as he drawls, “Now wouldn’t that be something to behold.”

“If you would excuse me.” She rises one more step, the gap between them shortening. “Business conspires to keep me moving. No rest for the wicked and all that.”

“There certainly isn’t.” It’s said pleasantly enough, polite smile clutched in his mustache’s talons, but when she moves to pass him, his eyes fix on her with a predator’s purpose. “The presentation is only a few days away, isn’t it, Councilor? And with Medarda hosting the reception, it must keep you busy.”

He might well put a paw to her neck for how thoroughly his stare gives her pause, mounting only one last step to draw them shoulder-to-shoulder.

“Talis’s technology— it’s quite impressive, isn’t it? Magic for the masses.” He huffs out a laugh, but for all his bluster, his eyes never move an inch, keeping her pinned perfectly in place. “It could go a long way in paying back Medarda’s debts. If it works.”

Spoken like the man who holds them. “I suppose,” she allows, careful of the purse strings that could choke her. “Though one might think that being informed of such an opportunity might be its own payment.”

“One might,” he remarks, as if it were nothing.

Clan Ferros never concedes, never compromises— and yet here’s a foot in the door; the wedge she needs to keep it open, if only so that one day she might get out. Desperation makes strange bedfellows, her mother would laugh, watching clans and countries scramble for allies under her encroaching shadow. If only Mel had known she meant necessity breeds mistakes, she might have thought better of crawling into bed with them in the first place.

“Have a good day, Lord Albus,” she says, putting one sole on the step above her, shifting her weight to rise—

Only for Ferros to reach out, fingers banding around her arm, folding over where metal bites into flesh. It warms beneath his touch, a warning and a promise, just like the way he leans toward her, shoulders so broad they cast her in shadow.

“Impress me, Mel.” It’s not a growl— Ferros is far too mannerly for that— but it grates nonetheless. “Give me progress, and then we’ll see just how much such a helpful hint was worth.”

He releases her— just a simple jerk of his fingers and he’s gone, as if manhandling her was as natural and unremarkable as picking up a handkerchief. And yet, here she is, standing on the pavilion steps with every nerve left raw and sparking, like some half-finished project strewn across Viktor’s bench.

“Mel.” It’s more gulp than gasp, Elora lurching forward, concern scrawled across the tight furrow of her brow—

But Mel holds up a hand, halting her in place. “I’ve changed my mind. I think I’d like to see some blue after all.”

“Blue?” Elora steps back, blinking. “You mean...the dress? But didn’t you say—?”

“I know what I said,” she says coolly. “But I think a few people need to be reminded.”

Her head tilts. “Reminded? Of what?”

Mel pointedly lifts her gaze, right up to the top of the Academy’s ivory towers, where the blue and gold of Piltover waves. “Of who I am.”

*

Much as Talis might have prided himself on Hextech’s humble origins, there is nothing of that Midtown warehouse left in the lab now. Every surface is polishing to gleaming in the showroom, even the podium for reception sleek and buffed until stone shines like chrome. Which is where Talis stumbles out from, notes fumbling across the desk as she makes her entrance, guilt leaking out of him like a faulty faucet.

“Councilor!” he calls out, surreptitiously shoving papers on top of other papers, every line of him screaming unready. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”

Her eyebrow arches, one corner of her mouth following. “Clearly.”

“What do I—? Er, I mean, we, what do we, ah…” He clears his throat, one large hand tugging at the knot of his tie, as if a little air might make his conscience cleaner. “Elora isn’t with you?”

“She was.” Mel paces past him, touring the tables with all the interest of a tutor overlooking a student’s drill work. They’re cunning pieces, useful things in a pretty package— even the mining gloves have an elegance to them, though she doubts it would be appreciated by the folk down in the fissures— but with the instability of the crystals themselves, ultimately decoration; a future Talis could design but not manufacture. “However, it seems that I overlooked a small detail for the reception. I sent her to handle it.”

“Really?” She has to hand it to Talis; when he turns those wide eyes on her, all concern, she believes it. “Not anything too important, I hope. Be a shame for things to go sideways this late in the game, you know.”

“Nothing that would keep you two from getting up on that stage, I’m sure.” Though she wouldn’t put it past Viktor to try. What’s the point, he would drawl from the bowels of his creation, if the Councilor isn’t looking her best? We might as well move the whole thing to, oh, let’s see…never?

“That’s good.” His waistcoat doesn’t leave much room for slumping, but, ever the over-achiever, Talis manages it, relief slackening that chiseled jaw. “So this is just a…er…personal visit?”

“Hardly. I was out handling some last-minute plans for the presentation, I thought I might see how you boys were coming along.” She brushes past him— not close enough to touch, but close enough to imply, which, by the sharp breath he draws in, is more than enough for an engineer wound as tight as Talis. “Or at least make sure there’s an actual, working prototype.”

“Aw, come on, Councilor, can’t you give us a little credit?” One of those large palms scrapes over the short hairs at the back of his head, and ha, no one else could make humility so appealing. “We’ve never come up empty-handed, have we?”

She lifts her chin with a playful sniff. “Try that on someone who hasn’t seen you spend every last second before an exhibition tightening bolts.”

“Well, you got me there.” Talis rests one hip against the receptionist’s podium, hands lifted in a very aesthetically pleasing surrender. He always did have the sort of face that Noxian artists would clamor to paint on its knees. “But I promise, Councilor, I don’t have any intention of letting you down.”

“I’m hoping neither of you will,” she warns with a warmth that leaves Talis grinning rather than grimacing. “Though I suppose if Lord Albus’s mood was any indication, I won’t be unsatisfied with your progress.”

“Ah…” Talis has the grace to look chagrined, at least. “So you did see him.”

She cocks a hip, crossing her arms beneath her chest for best effect. “We ran into each other on the stairs.”

“Ah, right, right. Makes sense.” Little as he seems to like it. Clearly crossing patrons hadn’t been part of his afternoon plans. “It’s just— he only wanted a look around. Not in the lab, though. You know how Viktor doesn’t like, er” — gawkers is the politest way he’s ever put it in her hearing, and she doubts he’s stretched himself to search for another— “visitors while he’s working.”

“Really?” She arches an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Albus Ferros never struck me as the sort to leave any sleeping dog to lie.”

At least, not as long as he had money in it. The finer details of Hextech might fly right over his well-oiled head, but he does know what it will cost right down to the washer.

“Well…” Talis grimaces, guilty. “He might have peeked his head in. Just for a minute.”

Ah. Gawker. “And I suppose Viktor’s in fine feather after such a pleasant visit from his patron?”

“To put it mildly,” Talis mutters, arms crossed over that wide expanse of waistcoat. “He’s in the lab, if you’re looking to get scowled at. I’m letting him make some last minute tweaks to blow off some steam.”

She doubts that Talis had much of a say in the matter, but she magnanimously refrains from saying so; no, instead she drawls, “Tweaks? Is there some problem I should be aware of, or—?”

“No, no, nothing like that, Councilor.” He’s all good humor and graciousness now, hands waving in the air between them. “He just— well, you know Viktor. He had some ideas about optimization and performance, and well…as long as the gate gets on stage in working order in time for my presentation, he can do whatever he likes.”

“Your presentation?” The muscles in her cheek twitch, one side of her smile slanting into a smirk. Teasing, of course; playful, even. Enough to take the sting out of, “Weren’t you the one who wouldn’t even stand next to it when there was a cage?”

“Well, that’s before we got the field stable,” he protests, shoulders a little too square for nonchalance. “Now there’s no worries at all. Smooth sailing. Like riding one of those steam cabs downhill.”

Mel arches an eyebrow. The masses do seem to find their fun where they can get it. “I can’t say I would know.”

“In any case, I think we’ve all earned a rest on our laurels, haven’t we?” He leans over the podium with his most charming smile, heedless of the pages crinkling beneath his sleeves. A little ink smudges on his cuff, still wet, and she can’t help dropping her gaze to trace the angle of it, making out strange corners and hastily scribbled letters. “Speaking of a little rest and relaxation…I’ve heard there’s a new restaurant that’s opened up on Sidereal Avenue, just down the street from the treasury.  Some little Shuriman fusion place, I thought maybe you might—”

“What is this?” She bypasses those big dog eyes of his with a tap of her finger, drawing his attention down to his elbow. “Runes, I suppose?”

“Oh, that?” A laugh blows right out of him, more dismissive than a wave of his hand. “This is just a theory Viktor’s got me working on. It’s…well, it’s kind of technical” —meaning, she presumes, that there’s no possibility she might understand it— “but he’s got some ideas about the formation of runes. You know, how they talk to each other.”

“Oh? Because of how you two constructed the gate, correct?” The nitty-gritty of Hextech’s inner workings has never been her forte; she saw little point learning a science poorly when she already had two experts at her beck and call. But even she can see these aren’t the sharp lines and pointed corners she’d seen etched into metal from the day she first elbowed her way into the lab. “You’ve been toying with that gravity rune for ages, but the beam needed—”

“Something to focus it, and another to aim, yeah.” Talis scratches at the back of his head, no longer from boyish charm, but single-minded focus. “Took more than a couple, and the whole time it felt like I was trying to reach an itch I couldn’t scratch. I thought I was, you know, remembering, but Viktor…”

A thick finger traces over a delicate curve of ink, four trembling tines disappearing beneath it. As if the strokes themselves were uncertain— or the hand that made them. “He’s wondering if we just sort of find them. You know, when we need to. Like when we reach for the arcane, it’s just….”

Talis shakes his head, suddenly all square jaw and smiles once again. “Anyway, it’s all just a theory. Something we’ve been scratching away at in our spare time.”

Mel arches an eyebrow. “I imagine you don’t have much of that, right now.”

“We don’t,” he agrees, a shade too quickly for sincerity. “But I’ve been pecking away at it when I’ve got a minute. It’ll all be worth it if a little bit of forethought now keeps us from burning the midnight oil for months, hoping the lack of sleep will give us a breakthrough later.”

“Is that so?” she hummed, resting a hip against the podium. “And here I thought Viktor loved staying up to all hours.”

Talis laughs, shaking that pretty head of his. “That’s what I said. And you know what Viktor told me? I’d like to be doing it alone.”

“Now that sounds like him.” She can see it now— his already curved spine bent to all angles, making one last tweak, taking one last measurement, peeking out from beneath his monumental work to say, get out. “I suppose since I’m here, I best pay my respects to the genius inventor. I’d hate for him to think I’m playing favorites.”

“I doubt he’d mind,” Talis huffs out, all humor until she sweeps past him, making her way to the lab door. “Hey, you aren’t really going to go in there, are you? I told you he…?”

She slows to a sashay, each click of her heels lingering before she makes the next. “Would be happy to see his favorite patron?”

His outstretched hand curls, falling back down to his side. “Not exactly what I was going to say, no.”

“Oh, please.” It’s a struggle not to roll her eyes, but she blunts her impatience down to a cock of her hip and a cross of her arms. “If you think I can’t weather a man’s poor temperament, Mr Talis, I’d invite you to spend a day on the council. Then you’ll really see the sort of tantrum a grown man can throw.”

Talis snorts, shaking his head. “Hey, it’s your— er, choice. Just thought I’d give you fair warning.”

“And miss Viktor’s undoubtedly stimulating conversation?” Her mouth hooks into her slyest smirk. “Perish the thought.”

“Try blistering,” he mutters, so soft he must think she cannot hear. “Ah, but about the restaurant—”

“It sounds lovely,” she replies absently, the first set of doors opening before her. “I do hope you have a good time.”

*

If there is one compliment Mel can lay at the Revered Professor’s feet, it is this: his penchant for high ideals never stumbles. Every building of the academy is designed with his lofty goals in mind, every wall stretching up to vaulted ceilings, supported by square columns meant to draw the eye up, inviting every body that views it to dream beyond their earthly goals.

What purpose that might serve in what was, essentially, a service corridor, she could never quite say, but the acoustics were superb. The harsh click of her heels amplifies with every step, echoing down the tunnel like her own personal set of heralding trumpets. A pity there’s a set of doors at the end of it, heavy and metal; the academy’s answer to Talis’s blast door— what she wouldn’t give to see the face of her favorite investment as she swept into the lab, a veritable angel choir announcing her arrival.

Knowing him, he’d start researching an automatic door. Or at least a way to sound-proof the corridor.

Not that either of them would be terrible ideas. Especially if this presentation impresses the way she’s certain it will. Going forward with gate technology would take all this from academic to proprietary; an investment Medarda will have to see to protecting. More doors would be a start, and security that did not simply start and stop at the reception desk. Heimerdinger would never consent to private consultants on academy soil, but maybe a more responsive team of Piltover’s best—or at least someone with a bit more ambition than a grandfather more eager to show off family pictures than arrest trespassers.

He’ll have his concerns, of course— too much power in one person’s hands, he’d bluster, and anyone could become a tyrant— but she knows all too well that most of his protests are meant to act as a dialogue; a mentor posing questions in order to lead a student along the proper path. To teach how to think, rather than provide answers. An irritating little habit of his, but one Mel is happy to play along with so long as it helps him put pen to paper. Or wrench to bolt, as it were.

The sticking point will be whose pockets the washers come from— Medarda eager to stake its claim, and the Good Professor just as keen to keep the academy from being sullied by the grasping hands of Piltover’s clans, but—

“—Much as I would usually love to debate over the wisdom of that particular phrasing.” Viktor’s voice rings clearly into the corridor, just as strident and harassed as she expected from a man who spent the morning with Albus Ferros. “I do not particularly have the time for the theoreticals right now. Not when the practicals are going to knock down my door if this isn’t ready to ship out by tomorrow.”

It’s not until the much softer, more uncertain, “I appreciate that, I really do,” that follows— from the assistant, she presumes, considering the heavy dose of hero worship weighing it down— that Mel notices the doors stand open, the full breadth of the lab on display before she even gets to the stairs.

“It’s just…” The girl hovers at Viktor’s shoulder— or where his shoulder would be, if the whole of his body wasn’t eclipsed by the dome bubbling out of the floor tiles— fretting the way Hoskel does over his horses. As if by worrying, he might make them cross over the finish line faster. “I’m concerned with how much power the beam might need to be focused. Doesn’t it have to be grounded somehow? I thought that if we moved a couple of these antecedents, we might be able to displace—”

“Sky.” He sighs at the precise pitch of the pinnacle of his patience. “That is a conversation almost certainly worth having…at another time. Right now I have to concern myself with—”

“Making it work?” Mel offers, letting her heels clack a little more sharply as she descends the small set of steps down to the lab floor. “And after Mr Talis spent so long assuring me that you actually finished something on time.”

“Councilor.” The title rolls around between his teeth, taking scores out of it before he lets it loose in his lab. Viktor doesn’t bother to stand— where he’s crouched, she hardly thinks he could manage it without a crutch and a decent dose of cussing, both of which he’s loath to use in front of her— but he also doesn’t bother to look up, not until she orbits around one side of his lonely star to meet him in the middle. “To what do we owe the”— he hesitates— “honor?”

Sky watches her closely, skittish, almost. Those clever eyes dart between them with the same fervor as children counting between thunder and lightning strike, trying to divine just how close the next might come to their doorstep.

Mel smiles, but not at her. “Do I need a reason to visit my favorite investment?”

“No.” His teeth bite around the word, just shy of something like a smile. “I was under the impression you didn’t do anything for less than three.”

He looks at her now, hair askew and brows lifted to meet it, entirely too cocky to abide. She wraps her mouth around her next volley, already calculating his return, when—

“Viktor.” The Sky girl elbows her way between them, tall enough for the puff of her hair to disrupt line of sight. “What I was saying, about the rune phrasing—”

“We will talk about that at a later date.” It’s a rare occurrence to see Viktor acting as a mentor rather than recalcitrant employee; what would have been a rousing row if Mel stood between the man and his machine is blunted down to a gentle correction, his impatience only apparent in the way he puts his back to the girl, focus narrowed down to the single point where he works. “Now is hardly the time to start talking about…grammar refinement.”

“But the arcane power demanded by the current construction is—”

“Miss Young." His hands still, his dismissal all the more stark in the silence. “Later.”

Her shoulders shift beneath the white of her lab coat, sitting straight enough a yardstick would turn green with envy. A defensive maneuver, like a kitten puffing up its fur or hedgehog quivering its spines. As if she makes herself big enough, his disinterest can’t hurt her.

It’s a child’s game, one destined not to last. Puffed up as she is, there’s nothing left to do but deflate, her chest rounding over the books she has clutched to them. The girl spares Viktor one last lingering glance— hoping, perhaps, that he’ll notice the blow he’s dealt— before scurrying toward the door. Mel’s half-tempted to pity her; it’s the same sort of scene she’s seen played out in schoolyards and soirées and soldier encampments alike, one of the abiding embarrassments of growing up—

But the clever little assistant stops at the top of the stairs. Has her hand on the door and hesitates even still, as if just one more moment, one last look might change everything. But this time, she doesn’t pitch puppy dog eyes toward Viktor, oh no— this is a wary glare, aimed squarely at where Mel stands. Accusatory, almost. As if she is the interloper in the sanctum sanctorum that is this lab.

Perhaps she’s right, at that. But Mel’s hardly going to apologize for it. Business, as always, comes before feelings, no matter how tender some may be.

“Don’t you think you might have been a little harsh?” Most of their conversations flow best with a level playing field, but it would be a cold day in Sai Faraj before Mel would lower herself to a crouch. Not in these shoes, and certainly not in this dress. “The girl only wanted to impress you.”

“What’s the point? I’m already impressed.” He leans back, hands flush against the marble floors, leaving dark streaks of grease over its artful veins. “What would be the point of having her here if we didn’t think she could lend any insight into this project?”

It’s at the tip of her tongue, a reflex rather than a conscious thought— have you thought to tell Ms Young any of that?

Were this merely the lapse of a mentor in regards to his student, a failure in encouraging professional confidence to thrive, she might have let it fall. She’s hardly an expert on the shaping of young minds; not nearly old enough to take on anything like a successor, at least according to the Medarda, and not inclined to tutor any of her younger cousins, lest they’re encouraged to compete for her place. But she had, not long ago, been an apprenta herself, and Master Jago— well, he had never had a reputation for being effusive in his praise, not even for a young girl desperate to prove her place among a family more eager to see her stumble than succeed, but Mel never questioned his respect for her skills or her talent.

But this— this is not that. Simple professional jealousy would hardly leave her back burning this long after that girl’s glare gouged it; no, this is something infinitely more personal—

“Besides.” A tuft of dark hair slips down the furrowed expanse of Viktor’s forehead, and he spares a breath to blow it back. “She’s right about the grammar. This design draws too much power to be supported by so short a phrase. We either have to elongate the chamber, or we’ll have to swap the antecedents etched on every piece of the mechanism, from top to bottom—“

And equally unlikely to be noticed. The object of Ms Young’s admiration was already in a committed, mutually-beneficial relationship: with his work.

Sweet though, to see someone so interested in a man made more of math than muscle. Refreshing, even, to know that there were some who were drawn to intelligence over aesthetic. Little as the man in question would ever see his way around to appreciating it.

“So you mean to tell me that when you flip your switch tomorrow, the machine won’t work?” Hard to believe when every surface of this dome is carved with runes, channels for the arcane shaped like fissures around them; somewhere between an art installation one might find in the Council Building’s atrium and a brain.

“Ah, what? No. No no.” His hand waves sharply between them, not to ward off her question, but to redirect his mind to answer it.

“This” —his palms open, the whole of this great machine encompassed between them— “will turn on. And not only will it turn on, it will work. It will work so well that all our esteemed patrons will see fit to empty their pockets and give us five more years funding. And that is where Miss Young’s theory on antecedent order will matter, since then we will either reconstruct the whole thing to use the more efficient grammar, or we’ll have to…I don’t know. Build a tunnel long enough to contain the runic phrasing done the wrong way.”

Mel has never been a slouch at mental calculations, but even her mental faculties fail her as she tries to consider the scope. “And just how long would that be?”

“Well, let me put it this way: it wouldn’t do the Council any favors with your relationship with the Undercity.”  A laugh scrapes up from the recesses of his chest, less like draining the dregs at the bottom of the barrel, and more like cleaners shoveling up carriage-crushed carcasses from the streets. “Not that any of our Betters have lost sleep over that sort of thing before. But I would like to consider it a last resort. Greatness does not come from taking shortcuts.”

That little adage still has so much of the Great Professor in it, it squeaks, but Mel hardly finds that the most noteworthy part.

“Betters?” Her fingers reach out to trace the dome’s joints, pacing its perimeter with all the curiosity of a child approaching pristine plate glass. “Esteemed patrons? I never thought I’d live to see the day when you called me that.”

“It goes over better than purse strings.” There’s a strain in his voice, a snap, before Viktor settles back on his heels, nodding at his success. “Jayce has informed me that if I liked the…academic lassitude that comes from our funding, I cannot bite the hands that feeds. Or at least”— his mouth curls at a corner, teasing the barest hint of teeth— “learn to nibble a little more pleasantly.”

“Oh my,” she hums, drawing the words out to their flattest notes. “What dire straits Hextech’s funds must be in if you consent to being civilized. Whatever will Mr Talis do should his project fail before he even takes the stage?”

Ah, now that gets a glare slanted her way, Viktor’s mouth pursing in the very picture of academic affront. “I’ll thank you to remember that this is our project, Councilor.”

“Is it?” She lets a brow arch, inquisitive, skeptical. “With the way Mr Talis was talking out in the showroom, I assumed you had stepped down from being a partner to a”—pet, she’s not quite unkind enough to say— “employee.”

Four years of handling Piltover’s prickliest engineer has made Mel a connoisseur of grunts and snorts, and this newest one— a huff, bare inches away from a cluck— is dismissive. Dubious, even. “Then I’m afraid you’ve quite misunderstood. I am just a much as founder as I was the day—”

“I found you fiddling with Heimerdinger’s keys outside his office door?” Her mouth tilts, the fold of her arms following a similar cant. “Or maybe you mean later, when you blew out the Revered Professor’s—?”

“That’s all water under the bridge,” he assures her with a lazy wave of his hand. “He can hardly complain about his star pupils, now can he?”

“I suppose not.” The fissures thread along the bottom of her fingers, the chaotic network of channels falling into a half-familiar pattern, one she almost anticipates as one etching leads into the next. Like a half-forgotten childhood lullaby; she knows the tune by heart but stumbles through the words, phrases rising from her memory only fall to pieces beneath the weight of her tongue. “I have to admit, despite all the…extralegal skulduggery, you seemed like more of a partner then. Now you stay here in the lab, working on the future you and he were so keen on creating, while Mr Talis makes himself a household name.”

There’s scuffling as he gets his foot beneath him, one hand grasping at the crutch leaning on the console to deftly lever himself to his feet with only the barest squeal of his brace. The man might be doused in lubricant, the stretch between wrist and rolled up sleeve more grease than skin, but even still he can’t keep the thing properly oiled. For all his flaws, Talis must have the patience of a saint; even now she’s half tempted to hold him down and care for the joints herself, if only to save her from the clanking and whining she’s subject to as he hobbles his way across the workshop. Away from her, she takes care to note.

“You may not know this, Councilor,” he drawls, leaning over a sprawl of schematics. “But long-term partnerships require compromise.”

“Is that so?” She approaches with all the patience of a predator, skirt swaying around her legs like tall grass before a sand cat strikes. He watches her the way prey doesn’t, wary but aware as her hip props up beside his, fingers brushing over the topmost sheet— a sky ship, it looks like, though its shape has more in common with a sloop rather than a galley— until they trace over the single signature sweeping across the corner: Jayce Talis. “Including who gets credit for your inventions?”

He scowls, scooping up the schematics and rolling them into a tight tube. “That is for patenting purposes. We both invented these. Jayce knows that better than anyone.”

Reality rarely keeps an ambitious man from claiming credit, in her experience. “And I suppose it’s the both of you who will make sure the gate is in proper working order before the presentation? With no chance of explosion, if you don’t mind.”

“Councilor, please.” He presses a hand to his chest, the slant on his smile far too steep for sincerity. “When has one of my projects ever exploded?”

She barely has time to roll her eyes toward the window before he adds, “Recently.”

“I’m being unfair,” she admits, after a heavy pause to consider. “Your inventions don’t explode.”

“Thank you for n—”

“You merely throw yourself through them, untested, and hope for the best.”

“The gate wasn’t untested.” Most men would puff themselves up for this amount of protest; stretching their spines to loom, hoping the breadth of their shoulders might quell any question. Viktor, however, sits. “Its effects were just largely unknown on living objects larger than…oh, let’s say a cat.”

It’s Mel who stretches now, lifting her chin to its most imperious height. “So you thought the first person to test those effects should be you?”

Viktor shrugs, mouth pulling into one of his ridiculous grimaces. “Someone had to do it.”

“And what about me, then?” Positioned at all her best, most forbidding angles, Mel favors him with a glare. “Was there some reason I had to be the one to witness it? Without warning, might I add! Just called across the city with no explanation, only to have you disappear right before my eyes—”

“Not disappear, really,” he muses, one long finger tapping at his chin. “More like a relocation. The gate merely opens a point of entry in reality, and the vacuum pulls you through, almost like a pneumatic tube—”

“You were gone.” Mel prides herself on control, on her precise grasp of the way her voice rises and falls, always doing just as it ought. As she wills it to. But that last word leaves her mouth and collapses, folding in on itself, unable to bear the weight.

Viktor glances at her. Not the kind she’s used to from men; that surreptitious pass from one end of her to another, taking her measurements as thoroughly as a modiste— only it’s not the fit of a dress they’re concerned about. No, this one lifts to meet hers, not falling to any more familiar anatomy, but lingering. His brow furrows, the subtle movements of his eyes searching.

It’s…embarrassing, really. This…vulnerability. Mother always said it would kill her, caring too much. If only she had known it could lead to things worse than death, maybe she might have listened.

It’s a relief when his attention finally drops away, fixed to where his hands rest on the desk. His fingers flutter, his mouth works, and after one terrible, too-long moment, he shrugs. “I came back, too.”

She clears her throat, the pitch of her voice concertedly casual as she says, “Yes, well, you might have given me some warning. I’m sure Mr Talis might have had some idea of what to do should your…experiment go wrong, but I was quite in the dark.”

“Well, if I’d done it in front of Jayce, he would have stopped me.” He rolls his eyes, hands lifting to wrap quotes around, “For ‘safety reasons.’”

“I see,” she hums, deceptively light even as her temper lashes behind the golden cage of her civility. “So you chose me because you thought I’d be too stupid to understand what you were up to.”

“You wouldn’t be aware of the precise nature of my intentions, no.” The bastard doesn’t even have the decency to sound even slightly apologetic. Typical of him, really. “Or the risks of putting myself through what essentially amounts to a hole in reality.”

“Oh?” There’s no point in hiding the edge of her tone, not when he could have a real, actual knife held to his throat and still go on about his precise criteria for what constituted a ‘calculated risk.’ “For example?”

“Well…” His head tilts, sending that tuft skittering across his brow again. “There’s no air in a vacuum, traditionally.”

“Oh, honestly—!”

“I lived,” he tells her, as if that is his only metric for success. Considering the few times she’s seen Viktor testing his creations, there’s a reasonable possibility it might be. “And you were suitably impressed with my efforts, if I recall.”

“I was suitably impressed when you managed to move a pencil.” Had she only known that would not be his only magic trick that day, she might have spared herself no small amount of fright. “It has always been Medarda’s policy to allow our apprenta be the experts of their field of study with little oversight, however”— she slanted a pointed stare toward him— “perhaps in the interest of our continued support, I should become more familiar with the basis of your work.”

“Oh, don’t put yourself out on our account, Councilor,” Viktor assures her with his best don’t-get-in-my-way smile. “The naive mind is a wonderful thing. A layman’s perspective often gives more insight into a problem than—”

“I’m not trying to help you with your work, Viktor,” she grates out, every syllable strained through her teeth. “I’m trying to keep you from killing yourself with it.”

“Oh.” His mouth wraps around the sound slowly, as if testing to see if it might hold his weight, brow furrowed. “Well, that doesn’t seem necessary. It’s not as if I’ve died.”

“Yet,” she stresses wearily. And yet, even so, her own mouth begins to curve, hands coming to rest against the cool metal of the tabletop. “I do have to admit, that’s the first time in a long while that someone’s dared to call me naive.”

“Well then.” Viktor makes to stand, the mole beneath his eye wrinkling with the first inkling of a smirk. “I’m glad I could get away with it.”

It’s just chance that makes his glance flick to hers, a trick of the light that turns amber to gold and the strain of straightening his spine that drops his voice just so, that makes him lean in, entirely too close. And yet—

And yet the effect is undeniable. A strange itch that settles beneath her skin, an odd twist to her stomach. The sort of things that a nice pair of shoulders might make her feel, at least on the right man.

Which this certainly is not. It’s just…Viktor.

He rights himself, cursing as he gets the splinted leg beneath him, chin dropping to inspect the brace— it may not be squealing now, but misbehaving certainly seems to be on the menu— and that ridiculous tuft drops over him again, obscuring his eyes, in the way—

Her hand reaches out, the lightest brush pushing the errant tuft back to where it belongs. Or at least, where it will consent to stay. She knows better than to expect anything about Viktor to be tamed, least of all by her. “You will get cleaned up, won’t you?”

He stares at her, his gloved hand half-raised— to knock hers away, she realizes. A reflex, perhaps, abandoned after a thought. Or by the look in his eyes, a lack of one. “Pardon?”

“For the reception,” she says, stilted in a way she can’t quite account for. “I thought you might try and look presentable, for once.”

“Reception?” He snorts, hand dropping back to his crutch. “Why do you want me to go to one of those things? So they can all talk over me like I’m furniture?” His weight shifts, turning his back to her. “I think I’ll pass.”

“So that they can see it’s not just Jayce who is the mind behind Hextech,” she presses. “But the both of you.”

He hesitates, knee joint squeaking in protest. “I think they might rather it that way. It’s certainly simpler. I don’t think any of them would enjoy having to owe something to a man from the Undercity.”

Mel crosses her arms, one eyebrow lifted in challenge. “I didn’t realize you wanted to make things simple for these people.”

His hand flexes on his crutch. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask,” she says, and knows better than to add, for now.

[quirkyfries]

My concept of Dandy rebranding Gardenview to a new glory after the neglect of handlers, going back to their roots, and creating a toon with the use of research capsules.

[Mixed with your own theory of them, Dandy has a seemingly noble goal, they are just a bit evil and cause torment to the twisted and toons about it for their own satisfaction. The entitlement and audacity of a petal thinking they deserve to keep all the tapes of their history/training/making toons safety/learning videos/mlp/PSAs... you know the usual tapes you'd want to keep.] Now your theory was added, making Dandy seem more complex and interesting. Still mostly evil, BUT WHAT IF I MADE IT WORSE!!!

{A bit inspired by Sun and Moon Show <333}

... He was unable to figure out how to make an original toon, so tragic fan-child it is! Midnight Tragedy's Child (Astro x Dazzle) are they actually dating, or not. Who knows! They might not be, and that just makes it more funner(not in shipping, in the psychological torment sense <3 )

Dandy would totally family vlog, and Truman show the entire facility!!! They will compete at one point for the kid to do what challenges, and its Dandy vlogs vs Glistens lol.

I am planning on hopefully finishing chapter 1 today <3 wish I had written dopamine. I need it for my adding brain :D

Fun fact, the ideal design for the fan-child to have two-star shape'd eyes on the right of their face, was because the hands that Tron Astro uses are in his head, under his hat probably but in his brain basically.

So at will fan-child can move their eyes around to see into people's dreams or memories or to see if they are lying, who knows, dazzle hates it when Razzles acts.

what are your thoughts on it, I can't wait to figure out Glistens relationships with rnd, vee, and Astro specifically hehe. There are rnd headcanons that they look up to glisten, and glisten get along with vee. (karaoke, or has funner lines in trivia for the viewer to keep watching than winning all the prizes)

I love canon compliments, but I adore alterations if headcanons are not canon compliments. <3

oh yeah, and some doodles I did on a whiteboard. here are some of the concept chapters:

I'm too shy to show the last doodle with Astro and Rnd meeting up with Dandy, to figure out what their 'vacation' truly meant when they see the new toon on the bench(theirs another doodle of that on paper) I'm having so much fun with writing this, and I'm almost wondering how Dandy might become a manager. Can they ever get IDs?

:P

... Since they got research from the twisted themselves... whose child is it really [Family drama]

Hope you like my chaotic concept, i have no ideas for the other characters, but I just gave Poppy an HC that they are not allowed to drink pop because of a commercial aftermath incident :D

Astro giving others nightmares by accident will always be funny <3

Have a wonderful day! I didn't have this beta read, so my words may not make sense hehe

OOOO Thank you so much for sharing this with me!!

Between Dandy mixing Astro + RND’s (research? ichor? Toon dna) to make a toon from scratch, said child’s ability and the surrounding drama in the form of family vlog and Truman show’d facility, I’d say you’re in for a pretty solid story!

I’m really curious about Glisten’s relationships with other toons, I haven’t been able to look at the new update yet lol. I know that fella has all the deets.

Midnight tragedy is super cute, I love their design! I wonder, since it’s ambiguous who their parents actually are, if they’d chosen a parent figure? Unless Dandy filled that role by default, or maybe it was a “it takes a village to raise a child” situation? Or did they spawn fully grown and only needed some guidance to mature emotionally.. don’t let my questions point to spoilers for your fic, I’m just wondering aloud!

10/10 concepts and art, I will be watching for that fic when it’s posted! You have a nice day too :D!

[butteronabun]

Hellooo butter! What are your thoughts on Diluc as a senior? School or college au? 🤔 my friend and I were speculating this(+kaeya) and I thought your contribution to this topic would be just perfect!

okay. okay.

first of all, thank you for thinking that my contribution regarding this topic would be perfect. i am honored that you think that way, thank you for thinking that! 🤍✨

second — here, let me dump all the high school au concepts i thought about for diluc ( which may or may not have been already been written in my debut fic :D ):

In a modern au, hs student Diluc would be a "golden retriever"

He’s kind, gentle, and sweet. Man has good grades and perfect attendance. Charming and handsome to the point that he’s deemed as one of the ‘Campus Crushes.’ Well-liked and very popular. Dominates the basketball varsity team (he’s a team captain) and is often the MVP. Joins clubs that benefits his academics and is running for student council. One of the math wizards who partakes in school vs school competitions. Filthy rich.

Seriously, he’s the guy you usually find in those romcoms.

He who opens doors and waits for the other students to enter the cafeteria.

He who provides support to those who are nervous in reporting their chemistry presentations. He who offers his jacket quietly to that girl when she had blood stains on her skirt. 

He, who, has a smile that lights up the room and makes everyone’s hearts skip a beat.

His name is always the talk of the town 

His lockers filled with rose-scented letters & cheap chocolates every 14th of Feb 

The crowd cheers for his number when he gives them a 3 point shoot, 

Before proudly celebrating the well–deserved golden trophy with his team 

He who is sincere with his speeches regarding “changing the system.” 

Regarding unfair school policies, more renovations for campus facilities, and less homeworks for those who are unfortunate and come home late 

He who dreams of following his father’s footsteps 

By doing his best in school 

Even if it’s a simple thing like tutoring his friends when it comes to math 

Or something more complex when he’s the face of his batch to compete in academic competitions. 

And you bet that this man is favored by so many of his teachers

Bro posts something on social media and it probably gets a hundred likes and numerous supportive comments from friends and others.

He’s practically untouchable. And despite all the fame, he’s pretty private. ( and no one will ever mention how Diluc almost beat up some fools who bullied his younger brother for dreaming to become a pirate. )

He has everything and yet he can’t get the girl that he likes, because unfortunately, she— whose identity is private, for now—doesn’t seem to like him or even notice him

I like to think that Diluc has a lady friend who he can confide with. Maybe, in this case, it’s Lisa. One time, she was sitting beside him during lunch and was very much amused when she caught him staring at that one girl who laughed way too loud with her friends.

He was staring with a little flush and seemed to get a little timid whenever she passed by. 

Lisa couldn’t help but smile behind her fingers as she witnessed the beginning of a new chapter — a blooming flower.

Most people in Diluc’s life ( the judgmental and the nosey ), who think that they have opinions worth mentioning for, always think that they’re right: they expect Diluc to end up with someone like him – and yet he is besotted with that girl who played step foot with her friends outside their classroom despite the class rep reprimanding them to quiet down. That girl ( who had many dreams and becoming a director was one of them ) nearly got her camera confiscated when she was recording her friend climbing on the roof, as if her incident with her math teacher wasn’t enough ) and That. Girl. who somehow became his seatmate during their field trip when they both got late together and had to sit in front. That same girl who offered him if he would like some chocolates that she bought from duty free because it was her birthday soon.

That girl who laughed when she hit her head on the ground while playing basketball and was delivered to the emergency room afterward.

But despite all these “not-so charming flaws,” Diluc finds himself falling anyway.

He wants to try all sorts of things, and he imagines a future where she’s in it.

But he knows that he’s not that intriguing for her eyes. She doesn't seem to be interested in him or befriending him. Was it because he became hot and all sweaty during that one time in their field trip? When he awkwardly made conversation ( despite being praised for his articulate and cohesive speeches and arguments ? ) Was he way too boring and too ambitious for someone as spontaneous and going with the flow? Did he not tick all the checkboxes in her list of the Ideal Types that she wants to date? ( Kaeya informed him that she was sharing her ideal types with her friends, and him being curious was an understatement. )  

Because every time he sees her, she doesn’t bat an eyelash. She focuses so much on her friends and it seems that she has forgotten that she smiled at him during that field trip. When she commented on how the sunset looked beautiful behind him, when he was sitting on the window seat. 

He’s aware that she’s friendly but she’s not befriending him. :( 

And if people are going to ask you what happened between the two of you, perhaps, you’ll just raise a quizzical brow and tilt your head.

“Uhhh. . . What? Who? Ah. Him. The MVP guy? We became seatmates during the field trip and that’s it. We didn’t really talk because I slept throughout the whole ride. He was listening to music so I assumed he didn’t want to have a conversation with me. And I’m out of his league, so next question.”

( Diluc had earphones on but they were lowered down because he wanted to hear her small giggles — and, well. Ridiculous as it was, he was playing stupidly romantic love songs. Kaeya was right, maybe using Spotify premium once in a while wasn’t bad. )

Here’s another hs au concept:

So it starts like this: two fingers clutching a chess piece—a pawn, she recalls—and lips pursing in thought, you inadvertently sigh in defeat and simply put it on a black square. 

However, you confidently eye him anyway and grab his queen piece. You declare a “Checkmate!”

And the guy—the guy who’s sitting right across from you—with the wild, beautiful red hair tied in an elegant ponytail, releases an amused chuckle. You’re sure that the girls watching from the sidelines just swooned from that and you mentally roll your eyes. 

“Last time I’m aware, that’s not how the game works. That’s not how the queen moves.” 

His voice is deep and nice to hear. But the irritation boiling in your gut shoves that comment away and you cross your arms with puffed cheeks. 

“That’s how this queen moves,” You stand from your seat and take your bowl of soggy french fries from Potato Corner. “Checkmate.”

And from that very moment you leave — you think it’s a cool exit, because you know you’ll never see him again, and you’ll never play Chess again, because there are a lot of students in your high school with quirky hair and even stranger personalities. 

Like, who even randomly starts a chess duel during lunch, and in Mondstadt High’s quadrangle? Apparently, that guy. 

You don't really understand why a lot of students are drawn to him so much, especially your classmates. You don’t hide your disdain of course, but your amazing friends decided to pull something underneath their arses to somehow make you meet the guy. Make you meet the guy you weren’t really interested in getting to know. Even if he was quote unquote, a 10.

Thus, leading to that unexpected encounter—them registering your full name when the guy was searching for another player to duel with. For fun.

And you didn’t really know how to play chess, but you were in the mood for some shenanigans, so. . . that happened.

( tldr: u had an interesting meeting with diluc and thought u will never meet him again but then he becomes ur romeo to ur juliet when u joined the theater club. shenanigans ensue. )

i hope this is enough to satiate the people who want a part 2 of the hs au diluc <3 also, it's up to anyone's interpretation if they wonder if my debut hs au fic for him would end up with the reader.

[ edit at 1:02 am: oh. . . diluc in a high school au as a senior. . . oh anon. . . i did not read it carefully and immediately assumed - help - i said too much. . . GSJJDK 🧎🏻‍♀️] and third. . . so. uh! i had one fear. ONE FEAR when i started this writing blog. one fear if i would eventually get that one specific ask, and me from the past was like: no way, there’s a buuuunch of AUs in the world and surely, they wouldn’t ask about college au, right?? / pos

WRONG.

so ummm… regarding the college au. are you gonna believe me if i told you that i had been plotting & writing a diluc college au since last year 🫣 all supported and aided by a wonderful pal ofc :)

here’s a glimpse:

you guys don’t understand how much of a fixation the DILUC college au was for me. like at all FJDHDK only my bestie witnessed how feral i was over this au. it was seriously my life source / j

anyway, i’m not sure if i’d post it because it’s seriously hella of a mess ( like table filled with papers stacked over each other mess ) and i don’t even know if people will enjoy it - i have some crazy projections here 🤸🏻‍♀️

and to end this: if you guys are curious abt diluc and the reader’s dynamic in this one, it’s evidently grumpy x sunshine ( because i am a forever sucker for that trope with diluc ) and she is his first love and he is her last

cheers! 🥂

[almostfoxglove]

hi! happy possibly-belated holidays! 

‘twas thinking about your fics a lot over these past few days, and ended up re-reading a good handful of them, including the entirety of See You At Three, I'll Carry You, and The Prettiest again... plus your christmas one-shot was just so damn sweet. something so sugary for the soul it made me go back to syat another time just so i could specifically read the chapters with feverish joel, because there's something so earnest about the way he thinks — what they say about sugar cravings and all that, one taste is never enough. the first hints of it all really collapsing into a feelings free-fall... needed a mixture of the good feelings in this chili's tonight.

mildly unrelated, but i was beyond thrilled when i found out that The Prettiest had origins in a ghost dieter list, because dieterrrrrr omg!!! i genuinely think he may be near the top of my favorite pedro boys, and for the life of me i couldn't say why. he's just so endearingly disastrous. i couldn't help but start imagining him and max having insane beef with each other while trying to haunt the same person. i 100% feel like they'd hate each other. especially if dieter never shut up about technically (“Objectively!”) being more successful in life than max. (“Does anyone remember having an interesting sales manager, hotshot? Anyone have posters of you up on their walls you didn't print yourself? Didn't think so.”) but again that's a ramble, and i digress. 

i just want you to know that like always, your stories have been a source of a lot of really comforting (and/or painfully cathartic) feelings during stressful times, and they're really a balm for a lot of stuff that can hurt. the impact you and your writing has on people is really meaningful, and you deserve to hear it more often. so here i am, clogging your inbox to say it again: thank you, as always, for sharing something so personal and cared so deeply for with us. your works are a gift and we're lucky you share them; we're always blessed to be traveling the multiverse with you!

- that one long and rambling anon 

(p.s.; holy MOLY that max fic you reblogged. that was like a portal into even more max for my very reluctant vampire-loving soul. how dare he be charming. thank you for exposing us to that, but also curse you because i didn't need extra brainrot in my life.)

(extra p.s.; you can consider this a present, if you like ❤️ it's rough because i am absolutely not a writer, but here's those 2.7k words i talked about last time! i hope they can at least make you smile. -> https://archiveofourown.org/works/61364959)

ANON

AAAAANNNNOOOOONNNN BABY I'M SORRY THIS TOOK ME A FEW DAYS TO REPLY TO - I wanted to make sure I could read your fic before replying and oh my GOD. I will try not to yap at you here after yapping at you on ao3 - but MY HEART! CANNOT TAKE IT! it was a goddamn delight, and some exceedingly clever writing. it was so much fun and max was so perfect in it - all his physicality and mannerisms WERE JUST SO GOOD AND PERFECT FOR HIM. I'm in love with it, and can't believe you took my silly ask reply and turned it into a whole fic that had my heart YANKING in my chest?? I adore you. thank you so much for posting and sharing it so I could fall in love with him all over again, and then with your brilliant brain :,) <3

(p.s. I'm now also obsessed with the thought of max and dieter competing with each other, like dear god it's so good)

LINK TO ANON'S PRESENTATION - truly cannot recommend enough.

I'm so unbelievably honored that anything I've written has been able to keep you company during stressful times (and I'm sending you all my love - hope you're doing okay out there, honey <3) - this ask felt like a big ol hug right when I needed it, so just thank you. again. you're honestly such a fucking gem!! ah!!

extremely sorry (but not that sorry) about passing the max brainrot along, but very happy to have you in the club. I adore you. thank you again for being so sweet to me :,) sending you the biggest new year's hug & all my love, ok?? take care of yourself <3 <3

[briliantlymad]

KinnPorsche Fic Rec List Part 1/??

LETS GO IM DOING IT IM DOING IT EHEHEHEHEH

Starting off with some that i love, completed, or work in progresses or just freshly posted. some are filthy some are not. And ALL that deserve more love

Pouring Down Crimson Fire by Lilla_Torg

This is a good one guys. Rated M. Right off the bat it hit all the good spots for me when I read fics. Alternate Universe. Magic. Porsche being an absolute BAMF. And it has that distinct Dark! Kinn flavour that I really really love. Obbsessed kinn for the win. get yourself a porsche baby. “You’re mine. Say it.”  “I’m yours,”

2. mirror, mirror by @wiccawrites

Rated E. YOU KNOW I LOVE THE SEXY TIMES. This one is so well written. the scene setting, the lead up to the climax (wink wink) was awesome. It builds up well. definitely one of the best explicit fics written for Kinnporsche being kinky bastards. Mirror sex written well. Orgasm denial my love

 "what if I didn’t feel like telling you what I want?”

“Then I won't know what to do."

3. The power in the taking by @iffervescent

Ah this fic was one of the first few posted for the fandom. and if you haven't read it you've gotta go read it now. It's got the characterisations down to the T. Absolutely love Kinn Porsche who dont talk to each other. also love how shameless kinn is in this like yeah i get that. Rated E and has one of the best written sex scenes ngl

“Pliant…and obedient.” Kinn says. 

“Fuck you.”

4. Alone Together by bewarethetraclepuppies

NOW LISTEN TO ME. I usually don't deviate much from the usual Kinn x Porsche pairing. but this one. ITS SO GOOD. Its Kinn x Porsche x Big. From Big's POV, there is ANGST and there is hurt and there most definitely is | comfort | This bad boy is 20016 words and i will let you know i was hanging onto every word. It just finished updating like. yesterday. SO GO READ IT. getting together in the forest is so onbrand for them.

Porsche rolls his eyes at him and stands up. “I’d slap you upside the head but you’re already hurt. I’m gonna set this snare, okay? There’s this fucking mouse that’s been bothering you at night and I’m gonna fuck it up.”

“I can see you,” Big whispers.

Kinn smiles. “I see you, too.”

5. Silvered Perceptions by @nuwildcat

Now this one. I've been waiting for it since @nuwildcat posted a little snippet for it. AND WOW. I'm a slut for A/B/O universe but i go crazier when its for KinnPorsche. BAMF competent porsche does things to me. Rated E, 3 chapters so far and i've gone crazy over all of them. The characterisation is amazing. the whole thing is well written. and mama theerapanyakul has a lot more influence on this fic's Kinn and that's just delicious.

“Till next time, Porsche.” And with that he’s gone, leaving Porsche behind with slightly shaky knees.

6. Starry eyes sparking up my darkest night by cherry_apples22

Ok so. Alternate universes are usually tricky to read, cus sometimes they don't hit right. but this one does. Its Alternate Universe- Fantasy. Dark Kinn and Dark Porsche. with just the right deliciousness. it is also written really well and makes it so easy to just. visualise the scenes and really get into the overall tone of this oneshot. a lovely little fuck you to korn in there too.

“Don’t let that pretty little head get any delicious ideas…” “…Ideas about how many men and women would kill to have you look at them with those eyes and have that beautiful mouth all over their skin.” 

7. Squeeze a little, tease a little more by @mirrorofprinces

Jae never misses. this oneshot is absolutely delicious, brat porsche is so dear to me. Kinn and Porsche are horny bastards and jae gets it right i love that for me. Written really well, the scene is absolutely fap worthy. And that's saying smth.

"Porsche knows he’s tucked up well under the desk, theoretically completely hidden, but..."

8. darling, you ain't seen nothin' yet by Kai Fennimore

Chaotic competent Porsche lovers riseeeeee. BAMF porsche is a delight to read. Rated G. and it's got one more chapter to go. It's slightly unserious but i love it for that. Porsche collects all the nongs.

"Something feels wrong. Porsche felt it the second the meeting with the Italians ended, the sudden shift in the air, the heavy tension."

9. Ill-fitting and tattred by Vicyvn

Post-canon Mafia head Porsche and how he absolutely rocks a dress. So sexy T _ T you won't believe it but my ears went red reading this fic. Kinn Porsche and how i love that the author shares my love for breeding kink because HELL YEA. "Words on the note are written as ‘Kinn’s spouse’, but Porsche understands they’re read as 'Kinn’s whore'."

10. How do you like it, daddy by @baby-droll

This is a series. And its absolutely amazing. The whole premise is delicous and each of the four fics is amazing. KinnPorsche A/B/O verse. it's toxic and that just makes it all the more flavoursome. Dark Kinn who's out here doing the most to Porsche. Just a list of explicit tags that are my favourite. Porsche gets himself a mate.

"It's one of the better cages he's danced in"

And thats 10. I have more. a lot more. But i only re-read these today.

The rest of my free time was spent reading Orientalism by Edward Said. and studying for my IR and HR classes tomorrow. T _ T

[thestalwartheart]

20 questions for fic writers

Thank you for the tag, @aniron48 ❤️ This was such a nice way to wrap up this year, and to remember what I'd written!

Tagging @cicerfics @dixkens @dassandre-00qpidsarrow @boffin1710 @samanthahirr and whoever else wants to play along!

Answers under the cut!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 82! I feel like I blacked out and blinked and woke up with a horrifying number of fics!

2. What’s your total A03 word count? 385,997 😨

3. What fandoms do you write for? James Bond mostly. Also Glass Onion/Knives Out. I don't write for The Witcher anymore, but I have in the past. On my laptop is a lot of unfinished Star Trek fic - mainly Kirk/Spock - and a crack at some Arthur/Eames (from Inception).

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

being with you (is the best of all)

date, interrupted

the places you leave in the dust

a rank above

by any other name

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I do try to, and I mostly succeed. I like to thank people for investing their time with my work, and I also like getting to know people in fandom. There's still 100+ comments I need to get back to, and some of them are very old. I will get to them though!!! I promise!

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Anything involving the MCD tag. There was also a short called garden that was very sad for other reasons.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Either being with you (is the best of all) or dispatches from the division.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not really, though I've had a few rude comments and bookmark notes. One person let me know across three chapters that they hated my characterisation of Bond so much they were tempted to rewrite the ending! But most people are lovely. The Bond fandom is small and most of us have our heads screwed on the right way.

9. Do you write smut? Frequently and without shame. There are 29 E-rated fics in my backlog for your reading pleasure.

10. Do you write crossovers? I have a Knives Out/James Bond crossover series where Bond and Blanc are detectives competing for Q's attention.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I'm aware of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes and I am endlessly grateful for people who are more talented with languages than I am ❤️

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Just a team poem for 007 Fest, though I have worked with beta readers.

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship? Kirk/Spock forever.

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I had a multiverse fic I posted a chapter of that I don't think I have the energy for anymore. I was so undecided about the ending that I lost interest in writing it.

16. What are your writing strengths? I think I'm good with characters and details. My writing has been called immersive by a few people, and I do really pride myself on building atmosphere. I think I can turn a good phrase occasionally too!

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I need to get better at proofreading for typos. I'm quite lazy with plotting and planning as well. I definitely need to work on that for an original novel I'm writing!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I only do it if it's necessary, and I'm so glad AO3 now has a hover feature for immediate translation. One of my pet peeves at uni was how often scholars used random French and Latin words or phrases when they didn't need to!!!

19. First fandom you wrote for? HP, probably. Or Glee. Those fics have been purged from the internet now 😂

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written? Either dispatches from the division or the WIP I'm in the process of posting now, called the age of change.

Shout out to everyone who has made it to the end! As a reward, please enjoy this picture of my cat flopped over in her cat tree ❤️

[suzy-queued]

New Year's Ask Game for Fic Writers

To close out 2023…

1) What fic did you have the most fun writing this year and why? Or, if you can’t decide, what was most fun about writing this year for you?

It was a lot of fun writing the Masquerade story, because there was a lot to consider. Should I use my own voice or try to mimic someone else's? Should I write a story that I normally wouldn't take a chance on? Game-ifying fic writing makes it really exciting. And now it's fun to guess on everyone else's stories!

2) What’s a scene/story that you finished and felt “wow, I really accomplished that, that actually went so well”?

Chapter 13 of Out of Nowhere. I knew from the beginning that I'd have to write that angsty sex scene, and I felt like I was training for a marathon leading up to it. It had to balance anger and love, had to involve force but not be rapey. There were so many complex and competing forces in the scene, and I wasn't sure I could pull it off.

3) What helped provide the most inspiration for stories, if anything? Was it poetry? A song on repeat? A gorgeous gifset? A walk outside? A book you read that made you want to change everything? Whatever it was! Tell all.

Songs! Always songs. Murder ballads. Heavy metal opuses. Raw 2000s emo. Give me all of it.

4) What is something you want to share about what you’ve written this year? A particular line, a comment that made you feel really good, a scene that was difficult to write — you get to choose! What do you wish someone would ask you about when it comes to what you’ve written?

I tried to write novels back between 2012-2018. I wrote 2 YA fantasy novels and pieces of four others. But none of them ever felt complete. None of them gelled in my mind. I don't know why. I shelved them all. Then, I discovered the Gallavich fandom. I read the fics and a fire got lit inside me. And now I've written five novel-length stories. FIVE. And they all feel right! I can't thank this fandom enough for being supportive, inspiring, and transformative. I may not have a ton of fics, but completing a fifth multi-chap makes me feel like a superhero.

And to start off 2024…

1) Do you have any writing/creation goals for the year? What are they?

Finish Out of Nowhere, which will happen ... any day now!

2) Is there a fic or idea that you’re really excited to be able to continue to work on in the new year (shout out to my fellow fic writing folks who take forever to finish wips, sometimes it’s nice to be able to continue working on something even if you wish you’d gotten it done! Now you get even MORE time with it!)

I am exited to continue the @galladrabbles series No Sleep 'Til Nashville. It makes me giggle to put all the fandom tropes in there. It might go on for the entire year, who knows? There's a lot of story left to tell, and I have a lot of shenanigans planned.

3) What’s something new in your writing you want to try/are going to try? A different writing style? Different fandom? Darker works? Fluffier? Longer or shorter?

I might write more short stories this year. I might write a non-Gallavich original novel (if the idea strikes). All I know is that I'll always be writing something.

4) What’s something you love about your own writing that you will continue to appreciate in the new year?

I love creating suspense — in a scene, in a chapter, in an entire fic. I enjoy the challenge of making every scene sing, or at least having narrative tension. I don't see that going away. Here's hoping I can succeed!

Tagging, if you'd like to participate: @sweetperversiongirl @sweetbee78 @depressedstressedlemonzest @juliakayyy @notherenewjersey @metalheadmickey @creepkinginc @whatthebodygraspsnot @arrowflier @crossmydna

[lookofhisoceaneyes]

**The Best of the Best: Must-Read Fanfiction Gems**

2/4

Marvel Fandom: 

1. when i die i’ll sacrifice (more than enough for the afterlife) by notcaycepollard

when i die i’ll sacrifice (more than enough for the afterlife) - notcaycepollard - Captain America (Movies) [Archive of Our Own]

The fall is longer than Natasha expects.

It’s tears cold on her face, teeth bitten all the way through her lip and the taste of copper in her mouth; she’s falling and falling and then, bracing for impact—she wakes up.

---

main ship: Maria Hill/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers

Oh my, Oh my, a kind of fix-it fic in which Natasha doesn't die but travels back in time and tries to make everything better. An absolute comfort fic for me. Quietnight has also recorded a really great podfic. Listen to it too!

the podfic: [Podfic] when i die i’ll sacrifice (more than enough for the afterlife) - quietnight - Captain America (Movies) [Archive of Our Own]

2. I'll explain everything to the geese by napricot

I'll explain everything to the geese - Chapter 1 - napricot - Marvel Cinematic Universe [Archive of Our Own]

Bucky is so competent that it hurts my feelings is not a rational complaint to have about a person, and yet, after a year of being Captain America and partnering up with Bucky for the new and improved, post-Blip Avengers, that’s kinda how Sam’s feeling.

It’s not great. It maybe leads to Sam making some rash, ill-advised decisions like claiming he has a previously undisclosed superpower, and then getting caught in a web of lies when he ends up actually developing that surprisingly inconvenient superpower. Talking to birds had seemed like a harmless superpower, but it turns out that birds have a lot of opinions, and they don’t hesitate to tell Sam about them, especially when it comes to his supposedly subpar courting skills. Which is ridiculous, because Sam isn’t courting Bucky. Right?

---

main ship: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson

I love SamBucky fic where Bucky is competent and has a lot of skills. The fic is very humorous and well written. It's about lots of talking birds and a rather smitten Sam. Be sure to check out napricot's profile. Quietnight has also recorded a great podfic, check it out too:

podfic:[Podfic] I'll explain everything to the geese - Chapter 1 - quietnight - Marvel Cinematic Universe [Archive of Our Own]

---

3. ain't really quaint by quietnight, silentwalrus

ain't really quaint - Chapter 1 - quietnight, silentwalrus - Captain America - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]

Natasha stops by on a Tuesday, early enough in the morning that it would have been late by Steve’s old standards. Now, though, it takes him nearly three minutes just to limp to the door, yawning, and when he opens it he has to lean heavily on the doorframe.

“Hi,” Natasha says, over the beginnings of birdsong. She’s not alone. “Can we come in?”

---

Main Ship: Steve Rogers/James "Bucky" Barnes 

You want a funny fic with comic accurate, Bucky Barnes, an absolute troll Steve Rogers (Who pretends to be a farmer?) Then you've come to the right place! Bucky is kind of a shy animal and Steve makes it harder for him than it should be. (In a funny way.)There's a great podfic from Quietnight here too (can you tell I love Quietnight's podfics?)

the podfic: [Podfic] ain't really quaint - Chapter 1 - quietnight - Captain America - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]

4. the thing is by napricot

the thing is - Chapter 1 - napricot - Marvel Cinematic Universe [Archive of Our Own]

“I don’t have a problem!” Sam insists. “Bucky is not a problem. Bucky is on a beautiful journey of self-care and healing and making amends with his body, and I support him 100%.”

“Mmhmm,” says Sarah, and when Sam can tear his gaze away from Bucky, he sees that she’s fixing him with a sweetly compassionate gaze. He readies himself for some no-nonsense sisterly wisdom. In tones of deep sympathy, she says, “And you’re horny about it.”

Sam grits his teeth and grips the arms of his lounge chair. “I’m so horny about it, oh my god.”

Bucky is finally ready to make amends with himself, and specifically his body, but he might need to enlist some help. If that help involves kind of, sort of tricking an overworked Sam into doing some self-care and having some fun of his own, so much the better. Sam, meanwhile, is happy to help, it's just that helping Bucky is turning out to have the inconvenient side effect of falling for him too.

—-

Main Ship: Sam Wilson/James "Bucky" Barnes 

Healing Bucky Barnes? Therapy, yoga and a stressed-out Sam who can't cope? Sign me up! Another fanfic that's a real comfort fic. Maybe I just want to be in such good therapy myself, but who knows. It's definitely worth it!

5. Out of the Dead Land by orphan_account

Out of the Dead Land - Chapter 1 - orphan_account - Captain America (Movies) [Archive of Our Own]

Someone is building machines that look and act like people.

Meanwhile, the Winter Soldier tries to be Bucky Barnes.

—

Main Ship: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers

You want a fic where the Winter Soldier finds out he's Bucky Barnes? Join Bucky Barnes as he comes in from the cold. There's also a great podfic from Quietnight.

Podfic:[Podfic] Out of the Dead Land - Chapter 1 - quietnight - Captain America (Movies) [Archive of Our Own]

6. keep making trouble (til you find what you love) by squadrickchestopher

keep making trouble (til you find what you love) - squadrickchestopher - Marvel Cinematic Universe [Archive of Our Own]

“I am paying attention,” Clint says, glaring at him. He’s so done with this guy. “Your name is Cale Montague. You wear sunglasses both at night and inside, which means you’re doubly the tool I thought you were. Your first name is also a vegetable, so I’m guessing your parents were either hippies or super rich. You like to hit poor, defenseless guys, and your suit is very much a last season kind of thing. That about cover it?”

Montague looks a little nonplussed at this. Behind him, Barnes’s shoulders are shaking with muffled laughter. Clint stifles his own grin and waits for an answer.

After a moment, Montague pinches the bridge of his nose and says, “This is going to be a long night, isn’t it?”

—

Main Ship: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton (this is Comic!Clint Barton)

You like comic accurate Clint Barton and Bucky Barnes? Then this is the fic for you. A good pinch of humor, action and a lot of bickering. There is also a fantastic Podfic. Make sure to check it out!

the podfic: (next post)

[bronanlynch]

trying to get back into writing weekly roundup posts inspired by @/girlfriendofthegalaxy's tuesday again no problem series so here goes (disclaimer that these are not recommendations, as a rule I don't like recommending things to people because taste is so subjective and also because I enjoy doing analysis on things that are not good)

listening (podcast): making my way through the Gundam Wing episodes of Great Gundam Project. love to hear queer leftists talk about Gundam. it's fun to listen to now that I know more about Gundam, because when I watched Wing myself I knew literally nothing, and it's cool to get extra context but also cool to hear that some of my initial analysis still holds up. has the (un?)fortunate side effect of constantly making me wish I were watching Gundam

also obligatory shout out to Media Club Plus, a Hunter x Hunter rewatch podcast just started by some of the Friends at the Table folks, which I'm also enjoying a lot (this *is* a recommendation. please listen to Media Club Plus)

listening (music): so turns out I mostly listen to music when I'm driving these days, and right now the cd in my car's cd player is Avril Lavigne's Let Go, which is causing me to think a lot about a world in which Fire Emblem 3 Houses was an anime and there could be a sylvix+dimilix amv set to Complicated. also I've been fondly remembering that one wangxian sk8er boi amv that makes me cry every time I watch it

reading: recently finished The Archive Undying by Emma Mieko Candon. lots of divine-mechanical body horror and also a big win for fans of body sharing. very tasty, lots to chew on. I think I would have more to say about this one if I'd read it more quickly, but it was the book that I read a chapter or two every night before bed because that's a load-bearing part of my routine, and I think that meant that I sometimes lost track of some of the plot threads and shifting allegiances & motivations

currently reading The Water Outlaws by S.L. Huang, which I'm not far into but it's fun so far, and. sighs. Rule of Wolves by Leigh Bardugo. unfortunately because I couldn't remember exactly what happened in the books to properly compare it to the second season of Shadow & Bone I committed to rereading the whole series and, well, this could be compelling political intrigue except that's not where the focus is (it feels like there's a lot of words wasted on reiterating who the main characters are but not in particularly interesting ways or ways that show them changing very much, at least so far) so it's just simply not compelling to me

watching: rewatching Hunter x Hunter (2011) along with the Media Club Plus coverage. only on episode 6 so far but man what a good show

with my roommate, we've been slowly making our way through Elementary, because it's good to have on in the background while working on other things, and I do enjoy a competently written mystery. we also watched. uh. the Bionicle movies. those sure are movies that exist to sell toys to children. like, there's stuff in there that could be really interesting. as a kid I probably would've been obsessed. I'm glad I've seen them. they're not ""good movies""

now, this past weekend, instead of making any progress in any of the shows I was already watching, or fic I was writing, or anything like that, I saw a tumblr post that made a very compelling argument for spending the entire weekend watching all 16 episodes of 2021 k-drama The Devil Judge. this is a show for people who watched Tiger & Bunny and wanted Yuri (you know, everyone's favorite T&B side character, the guy who's a vigilante murderer and also a judge and also very sad) to be the main character (it's me. I wanted that.) anyway. this one's gonna be rattling around in my brain for a while. it's a dystopian legal drama with a significant helping of the gothic (gothic is here defined as when you're forced by circumstance to stay at the mysterious big house of an older wealthy man with secrets). it's about, among other things, corporate greed, the rise of fascism, systemic judicial inequality, the self-destructive catharsis of revenge, whether justice is possible in an unjust society, and having an intense homoerotic bond with your hot morally dubious coworker

oh yeah I'm also keeping up with the Ahsoka show because I was cursed at birth to care about Star Wars. I wish I liked it because I love Ahsoka and Sabine as characters but it's just simply not a well-made television show. really suffers from over-reliance on their Volume soundstage and various other issues that seem to stem from uninspired direction, but I've been especially disappointed with so many of the blocking choices

playing: finally getting back into playing Ace Attorney 5, which I paused literally three months ago and didn't pick up again until this week. there are parts of the game I've enjoyed (Athena is a cool character even if I dislike her mood matrix thing both mechanically and thematically; the mock trial conceit of 5-3 is fun; I like Blackquill & his bird) but other parts I do not enjoy (the transphobia oh my god I hoped I was free after getting past the homophobia & transmisogyny in 5-2 and then got hit with whatever the fuck they were doing with Robin in 5-3 please Ace Attorney be normal about trans people I am begging you)

making: we recently got B. Dylan Hollis's cookbook Baking Yesteryear, and made some maple-squash gems from the 1920s. not too much to say about these, they're nice muffins, tasty, not too hard to make. I think I would probably double the amount of cinnamon next time though

drinking: it's nog season which means it's time for the return of one of my favorite seasonal mixed drinks: eggnog (pumpkin, since that felt the Most seasonal) with a splash of Kraken spiced rum

writing: picking away at editing my t4t yurivain fic that was originally meant to be for Fire Emblem Trans Week, which was like a month and a half ago now. it's fine. everything is fine. anyway here's some lines:

“This feels like a test,” said Sylvain. “Is that your subtle way of telling me that I have to order our next round?” “Depends,” Yuri said, suppressing a laugh at the expression on Sylvain’s face, like he’d forgotten an answer during an exam. “What would you order for me?”

[artikgato]

Some of you may know me for the copious amounts of Souyo fanfiction I've written. If you liked my writing style in those fics, I think you'll like Serpentarius. Yes, the main character is a very competent adult woman so she's about as far a cry away from Yosuke as you can get. No, this is not gay fanfiction about two video game teens making out. Also, let's just forget about the many, many, many hiatuses I took writing Practice Makes Perfect. I have 25 chapters and a map to the endgame of this novel written, there will be Content for many months to come :)

You can read it for $0 and then come back here and scream with and/or at me about it for free. If you want early chapters to scream at me about in advance you only have to give me 1 American dollar to do so. That's like 25 cents a chapter. For $3 I will put your name at the bottom of each chapter I post for the month you give me the $3. If enough people give me $5 I will actually start streaming on Twitch again and say their names at some point during the stream. The job market in my city is hell right now. Please pay me to write :)

Hi there, I'm Arti, and I've been trying to write a novel since Nanowrimo 2014 and in a desperate bid to actually finish it within the decade I'm going to start publishing it online, where people can read it and hold me accountable for not finishing it, thereby tricking my brain into wanting to work on it and not just daydream about it.

You can read it here for free :)

You can read chapter 2 on Patreon or Ko-Fi for $1

[kefalion]

Don’t Discount Your Sith Father when Searching for a Jedi Master by Kefalion

Darth Vader follows Luke to Lothal where the young rebel has gone to search for answers on how to be a Jedi.

When Luke falls through time, Vader continues to pursue. Through different times, places, and encounters with Jedi, they both learn something about what it means to be a Jedi and what they mean to each other.

This is written for the fic exchange arranged by @ladyvader23 and it’s the story I ranted about having things be similar to the Kenobi series. That scene happens in chapter 1, meaning you can read it right now!

Chapter 2 will be posted tomorrow and chapter 3 on Sunday. If you want to read all 24k words at once, wait until then.

Marked explicit for violence.

Tags:  Father-Son Relationship, Darth Vader Redemption, Time Travel, Fix-It of Sorts, Time Travel Fix-It, Alternate Universe - Canon DivergenceAngst, Whump, That's Not How The Force Works (Star Wars), It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Darth Vader Has Issues, Luke Skywalker Needs A Hug, POV Alternating, POV Darth Vader, POV Luke Skywalker, jedi cameos, so many jedi cameo, sand other cameos too, Graphic Descriptions of Injuries, Burns, Drowning, Choking, Lightsaber Wounds

Part 1 - Vader in Pursuit

Most days, Darth Vader despaired over the lack of competency in the navy, the Empire, the Bounty Hunter’s Guild, and the Galaxy at large. The vast majority of the Galaxy’s inhabitants were useless, causing an exponentially growing pile of problems instead of offering solutions. Once in a while, though, there were exceptions. That Boba Fett should be the exception was galling. Vader would much rather see skills worthy of the name within the Imperial Forces, not in a bounty hunter; yet in the larger scheme of things, it was of little consequence who gave Vader the information he desired. What mattered was that he got it.

Fett had tracked Luke Skywalker to a cave system on Lothal, and Vader didn’t wait long to follow. After Cymoon and Vrogas Vas, he was eager to meet his son properly and have him take his destined place by his side.

Head to AO3 to read the rest!

[horanghaechan]

LOVER (M.G) - Chapter 6

pairing: Michael Gray x original female character chapter: 6 pov: written in 3rd person genre: ‘rivals to lovers’, romance, mature content/smut, fluffy? warnings: S3 spoilers, non canon stuff. main character is BRAZILIAN therefore, there are references to 1920's brazil. keep in mind that the world at that time wasn't like the world we live nowadays, so there are offensive behaviours along the story. read at your own risk. english is not my first language, so any mistakes please tell me <3 disclaimer: this is the english translation of my portuguese fic 'Lover', based on Taylor Swift songs and Peaky Blinders S1-S3. This is PURE fanfiction.

Birmingham, England, 1924

Michael had such a busy day. Barely having returned from London, he was on his way to the headquarters to finish employees’ payments. It’s not that Maria Clara couldn’t do it alone, but Tommy had told him to never leave her alone and with money around men.

When he got there, Lizzie wasn’t at her desk and the door to Marie’s office was closed. He rolled his eyes, presuming the two of them were having tea and biscuits, chatting as if they didn’t have any work to do. Approaching her room to make a fuss of their leisure ‘afternoon tea’, he was stopped by what he heard as he came near.

“Your first kiss?!” The question came loud, as a screech.

“Shh! For God’s sake, Lizzie!”

“We should be having champagne, not tea. And then? How was it?”

Michael smirked.

So they were gossiping about her kiss?! Indirectly about him?!

“Weird. Very awkward! I didn’t know what to do and I panicked, but...” There was a pause. “You’ll find it pathetic, however… It was glorious, at the same time. It was like I could feel him all over my body, and the way he was holding me…!” Michael thought he heard a sigh. “Then I realised that, well, I was kissed by a man, you know? A real, moving force of a man. My first kiss and it was with Michael! And now...”

He couldn’t finish hearing the phrase, because someone nudged his shoulder, startling him. Turning around, he saw that it was Isaiah and shushed his friend, dragging him to the entrance of the office and starting to walk back inside, making loud noises.

“What’s gotten into you, Micky?” Isaiah whispered, frowning.

“I’ll tell you later.” He muttered. “What are you doing here, Isaiah?” He asked louder than he should, in front of Maria Clara’s door.

In less than three seconds, the Brazilian appeared, head peaking outside. When she saw him, her eyes widened and she froze.

“Where the hell did you come from?! Shouldn’t you be in London?”

“Hello, milady. It’s always a pleasure to see you, too.” Michael bowed sardonically. “And yes, I should. However, as I am a very competent man, I finished early and returned in time to make the payments here with you.”

“You didn’t need to.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve called Isaiah to escort me there, because I thought you’d be...”

“Did you call Isaiah?”

“Well, yes.” Marie crossed her arms, starting to get vexed. “It wasn’t fair to keep the workers waiting until tomorrow.”

“I see.” He looked at his friend. “Why don’t you take Your Ladyship to the pub and I’ll meet them in an hour? I believe you’ve dealt with the women employees, right?” His gaze returned to Maria Clara.

“I did. Lizzie was the last one.” She indicated someone behind her. “I can’t go to the pub now, Mr. Gray, work isn’t over yet. Isaiah, will you come with me, then?”

“Wait a second. How about he goes with me, and you stay here with Lizzie?”

“Of course not!” She snarled. “Why shouldn’t I go?”

“I confess that I prefer your dynamic that Monday, guys.” Lizzie walked through the door, smiling in amusement.

“What happened on Monday?” Isaiah questioned.

“Nothing!” Marie said quickly, gulping her shame and taking him by the hand. “So let’s go straight to the factory, dear!”

After hearing what she had said earlier, Michael wouldn’t let her get away like that. He annoyed her for the simple pleasure of doing so, but now... Now everything was different, since it seemed that, deep down, Maria Clara didn’t hate him that much.

“Oh, no, milady.” Michael stopped her. “Isaiah, you can go to the pub and I’ll go with Marie to the factory, eh.”

“I think it’s better...” His friend was going to go against it, but he raised his hand.

“I’m going with Maria Clara, we need to talk.”

“We don’t!” She widened her eyes.

“Yes, we do.” Passing her, he pulled her arm and started to drag her to the exit.

“Hey! What’s your problem?”

“We have to pay the workers, don’t we?”

“Mr. Gray, I’m not going to have you dragging me around like a paper sheet.”

“And I won’t have you walking around with money and only Isaiah as a chaperone.”

“But I can go with you?!” She scoffed, outraged. “I can’t see how it is of great help, especially since you don’t know how to shoot.”

“Maria Clara, don’t test me.” His hoarse and low voice was a warning, and for some divine reason, the Brazilian minx withdrew. He might not be skilled with firearms, but he was skilled with fists and knifes. “Now that we’re settled, shall we go?”

The scoff she let out was enough answer.

Marie went home from the factory. Michael had taken away all her desire to go out, and, thus cranky, she wouldn’t be good company. Luckily, Ana Vera promised to make a focaccia, a delicious salad and some Serrano ham to eat too.

She went upstairs and showered, anxious to get the cigarette smell out of her body. She couldn’t understand how everyone smoked so much! Her father and brothers smoked cheroots, obviously, but never around ladies and never more than three times a week – except for special occasions, which were not that often.

In the kitchen, she sat down with Ana and poured herself a glass of red wine.

“We should adopt a cat or a dog.” Marie looked around. “The house is so quiet.”

“Or you should accept Polly’s invitation and we move there.”

“Out of question!” She denied.

“Sinhá,” Ana sighed. “if it’s because of Mr. Gray, being here won’t change anything.”

“What about Michael?” She didn’t even bother asking Ana to stop calling her that. She had been doing it for years and the woman had never obeyed her.

“Do you really think that nobody has noticed? Probably even he did. Sinhazinha, since the Pearsons’ party, your behaviour only shows how you feel and being away from him doesn’t make any difference... Because when you meet him, it’s written all over your face.”

“And living under the same roof will make it impossible for me to hide, Ana!”

“At least we’ll be safe. Who can guarantee that what happened to Mrs. Shelby won’t happen again? And you’re a much more interesting target, for your family and the Pearsons would ask for Mr. Shelby’s head in retaliation.”

“Don’t say that!” Marie shivered. “I’m not a valuable prize for gangsters.”

“Alright, milady, then pretend I said nothing.” Ana gave up.

However, just as the lady-in-waiting had intended, the seed had been planted. Maria Clara was already contemplating the whole issue about their security and what happened to Grace. Was it why Michael was learning how to shoot? Why the mood of the three oldest Shelbys was like a powder keg next to a spark?!

Trying to distract herself and not suffer in advance, she grabbed her favourite book – ‘The Posthumous Memoirs of Brás Cubas’, by Brazilian author Machado de Assis,and hid in the library. It wasn’t a big house; after all, she lived only with Ana Vera. Although sometimes she had visits from other Shelby employees for repairs and heavy cleaning.

When she reached the part where Brás discovered Marcela’s ‘adventures’, a loud noise came from the front door. She rose up, startled. Armed with the bottle of wine she was drinking, she walked to the windows that faced the street and analysed through peripheral view who it might be. Recognizing the expensive suit and broad shoulders, Marie was beyond aghast, mouth drying at the sight. What the hell was Michael doing there?

“Sinhazinha, who is it? Are you expecting someone?”

“I wasn’t, but it’s Mr. Gray. Perhaps something happened?!”

“I’m going to make some tea; will you stay at the library?”

“Yes, sure.” Marie walked to the door. “Thank you, Ana.”

Michael staggered when Maria Clara appeared, for he was leaning against the wood. It only took a breath and two seconds gazing at him to realise he was drunk. The smell of alcohol and sweat was unpleasant, however... The bloodstains on his collar, the superficial cut on his lip, and the small bruises on his brow and jawline indicated that he not only was drunk, but also had been in trouble.

“Your Grace.” Bowing as etiquette demanded when greeting an aristocrat, Michael lost his balance again. Maria Clara held her breath and tried to keep him standing.

“Ana Vera!” She yelled as she pulled the man inside. “I need help!”

She just locked the door before Ana reappeared.

“Nossa Senhora D’Aparecida!” Her housekeeper was shocked. “What has happened to him? Let me help you, sinhazinha!”

“Let’s take him to my room. I think he needs a bath and to tend to these bruises, and a glass warm water with honey. The hangover will be unbearable!”

“A bath?! Sure you’re not suggesting we...”

“Leave him stinking here? No, Ana. He must shower.” Marie interrupted her. “We should also call Polly. She can take care of him as soon as she arrives.”

“What about Mum?” Michael questioned, leaning on Maria Clara and almost tripping over himself. Considering that they spoke in Portuguese, he understood shit, however, he recognized his mother’s name.

“We’re going to ask her to pick you up, Mr. Gray.” Ana replied. “Can you keep him awake while I make the call?” She looked at her mistress.

“Make haste, please.”

“No!” Michael stretched out his arm, preventing Ana from leaving. “Don’t call Mum! She’s going to embody the Inquisition and give me an earful.”

“And she won’t be wrong.” Maria Clara sighed. “Michael, you can’t stay here! We’re two single women, and... Well, look at you! You need a cold shower but you’re in no condition to stand.” As if proving her point, she backed away just one step and, to avoid falling on the floor, he collapsed against the wall, holding onto the stair rail.

“I can take a bath by myself if it’s in a bathtub! I came driving, so I’m fine.”

Marie was about to punch him. The irresponsible scoundrel still drove a car in that state?! Good God, she hoped the streets were intact and nobody was hurt.

“Come on, Sinhazinha. As long as he doesn’t drown, we can decide on what to do.”

Putting Michael in the bathroom was tough. Luckily, Maria Clara didn’t have to go through any extreme situation like undressing or soaping him. Ana Vera, as the head of the house, thought it best not to disturb Polly and keep him there for the night. She fetched clean towels and said she’d prepare the honey water, so Marie should just make sure he didn’t fall/injure himself or actually drown.

When Ana came back, she also had a piece of cake, for she believed that more sugar could help to cure or ease any hangover.

“Where is he going to sleep? Besides, we have to change him; his clothes are in a deplorable state, Ana!” Marie crossed her arms.

“Jesus, sinhazinha! I haven’t thought about that.” The housekeeper turned pale. “W-well, surely there must be something we can adapt for him to wear.”

Marie smiled ironically.

“In case you’ve forgotten, we are two women.”

“Let’s not panic, we’ll sort this out.” Ana asserted. “I’m going downstairs to see if I can find him anything and I’ll be right back. In the meantime, take care of him.”

With a sigh, Marie dropped her body onto the bed. Wanting to call Polly was equal to wanting to take care of Michael. Why had he fought? Where was Isaiah? His cousins? Charlotte? Why hadn’t he sought out Charlotte instead?

And what an unusual situation. If she was in a more relaxed mood, she could even pretend they were dating and Michael always did that sort of thing – how delusional that would be, too. Her heart pounded anxiously, because... Well, it was the first time she was alone with a man... In fact, it was the first time that she had a man (other than her family) in her house. If Ana couldn’t find something for him to wear, what would she do? Ask him to put on his smelly, ruined suit? Maybe he could sleep with a towel?!

Or she could leave him naked?

Her cheeks flushed. It would also be her first time seeing a naked man. She’d seen shirtless boys before, but never one whom she was emotionally involved with.

Dammit, if only Michael had stayed in London none of this would be happening!

As soon as the thought came, something else sparked in her head.

He came from London. And he said he went straight to Shelby Co.; so, he didn’t go home and unpacked his belongings... He most certainly still had his suitcase in the car.

“Michael?” She asked knocking on the bathroom door. “Are you alive?”

“And breathing.” He replied, voice laced with derision.

“Excellent.” She thanked. “Listen, did you take any luggage to London?”

“Yes, I was going to sleep there.”

“And where is it? Did you happen to leave it in the car?”

“Why’s that?”

“Because if you think you’re going to wear those filthy clothes and lie on my bed, you’re wrong.” Marie retorted, not caring it sounded wrong. “Did you leave it there or not?”

“I left it in the back seat.”

“Great, thanks.” Relieved, she went to the hallway and shouted instructions to Ana.

The wait didn’t last long. With perfect timing, Ana Vera brought the bag to her room seconds before Michael asked her to help him out of the bathtub.

Right. Maybe she could panic a little now.

“Go with your eyes closed and bring him directly to bed. He can get dressed under the covers.” Her lady’s maid suggested. “Or do you want me to go instead?”

“No!” Marie denied vehemently. “It’s fine, I can go by myself. Thank you, Ana, I’ll take over from here.”

“Are you sure not...”

“I am.” She cut her off. “Don’t make it worse for me, please.”

“Alright, milady.” The elder shook her head, displeased. “If anything happens, please call me. I’ll be in my room, as usual.”

“Perfect. Thanks. Goodnight.”

Alone, Maria Clara opened the bathroom door and took a deep breath. He was lying down, covered in a towel, and appeared to be sleeping, the water already drained. The scent of her shampoo and soap filled the entire room, a sign that he had really washed himself.

“I’m going to need you to wrap yourself in the towel, Michael. I didn’t bring your clothes, but they’re in bed and I’ll take you there. C’mon.” She closed her eyes.

Marie felt his warm hands closing around hers and braced herself for the urge to pull him away. With a husky chuckle, he got up and wrapped the towel around himself. When he said he was done, she held his arm tightly and walked to the bed; eyes fixed on the floor, for she didn’t have the courage to face him.

Luckily, he managed to keep his balance until they reached the mattress.

Under the covers, and very slowly, Michael put on his pyjama bottoms. It’d have to be enough, because he didn’t feel confident to button his nightshirt… He’d mess the order.

“Ana brought you some honey water and cake, for sugar can help ease hangovers. You better eat now and then I’ll help you brush your teeth.”

“I’m not hungry, but I’ll accept the water.” He reached for the glass, and despite being drunk, felt Marie’s gaze on his bare chest.

Oh, right.

If she’d never kissed anyone, what were the chances of knowing about male anatomy? She probably never saw a boy without a shirt before.

“I think you better eat just a little, so your stomach doesn’t get empty.” Marie sat on the edge of the bed, facing him and the tray. “It’s chocolate cake.”

“Then you eat it.”

“I’m not in your state, Michael.”

“And I’m not hungry.”

“If I take a bite, will you eat the rest?”

“Perhaps.” He taunted just for the simple pleasure of teasing her.

Rolling her eyes, she took a bite and moaned in delight. Michael was drunk and helpless, but the scene was… Incredible. Maria Clara was a beautiful girl, and ever since they kissed, there was something about her naiveness that trapped him. He opened his mouth, in a simple ‘Feed me, please’ gesture. To his surprise, she did so without resistance.

The cake was really delicious, but no better than the twist on the night course as a whole. When he left the pub, he didn’t think much, just drove to her house, because he knew that if his mother met him like that, he’d be a dead man. And he couldn’t stay with Isaiah, since the latter had female company. Marie was the safest route. It was a bonus that she didn’t send him away and made him spend the night in his car.

Now, to go through to all that fuss to tend for him...

That was a pleasant surprise.

After eating in silence, the two of them went to the bathroom again – his balance was still a joke – and Marie helped him with his teeth.

“If I’m going to sleep here, where are you going to sleep?” Michael broke the silence.

“In my bed, too.”

“My, my, Your Grace.” He smiled mischievously, green eyes gleaming in jest. “After a kiss you’ve became so bold!”

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“Shut up, it’s not like this! It’s just that... If you get sick, I’ll be around to help.”

“I think I better put my shirt on, or else I’ll be harassed.”

“Oh Michael, for God’s sake!” Marie grunted. “I won’t do anything! Try to take a nap, I’ll bring you some ointment for the bruises and some bandages.”

Without waiting for an answer, she disappeared from the room. Although Michael did try to stay awake, as soon as his head hit the pillow, sleep devoured him.

The morning sun didn’t pass the thick curtains of Maria Clara’s room, but Ana Vera’s noises around the house did. The cacophony of her crockery and silverware grew even louder as she went down the steps and entered the kitchen. Ana had set up the large table, in addition to having brew her father’s coffee: the elegant packaging was next to the teapot. If it weren’t for her poorly slept night and the constant lack of space in the bed, Marie wouldn’t accept having the best coffee made for Michael (and herself)... Turns out she was vexed and tired, so having something delicious was more than necessary to improve her mood.

“Good morning, Ana.” She sat down. “Where are the dishes?”

“I can’t decide if we use the Portuguese or English porcelain.”

“Whatever one we can eat, I’d say.” Marie suggested ironically.

“Oh, sinhazinha! What will Mr. Gray think? That you are uncultured?!”

“He won’t think of anything, because he’s still sleeping and probably will wake up with a hangover impeding him to even have breakfast or notice the china.”

Her maid grimaced and ignored her as she studied some cups.

“The Portuguese, then.” Ana decided. “I will finish setting the table in a second.”

Maria Clara sighed, taking a shortbread and eating it. Ana arranged two seats, but instead of joining her, she headed for the door that led to the backyard.

“Ana? Where are you going?”

“To see if Mr. Gray’s clothes have dried. I’ve already had coffee, milady.”

“Without me?! Why?”

“Because I thought you’d prefer to eat alone with Mr. Gray.” The housekeeper grinned. Maria Clara’s eyes widened, understanding everything. That traitor liked Michael! “It’s no use making that face. Yesterday, while you were taking care of him, I noticed that you two make a beautiful couple; in addition to being more handsome and nicer than Robert, Michael has an advantage: your love.”

“Oh, please! Something you ate made you sick.” Marie shook her head in disbelief. “This topic is forbidden. I want to have breakfast in silence.”

With a laugh, Ana left her alone.

The room was still dark when Michael woke up. Despite feeling like he had slept for hours, he also felt as if he’d been run over by a coach. He wasn’t supposed to drink that much! Running a hand over his face, the sticky substance on his jaw and eyebrow brought back memories of last night: he was at Maria Clara’s house. There was a pitcher of water on the nightstand beside him and his throat begged for a sip. Slowly, he got to his feet and went to the bathroom to wash his face and change his clothes; he wouldn’t be so pesky as to walk around in his pyjamas on a property he didn’t own… With two single ladies inside.

As soon as he reached the banister, he came face to face with Ana, Marie’s lady-in-waiting and housekeeper.

“My lord.” She smiled, and then shook her head. “I mean, Mr. Gray.”

“Good morning, Miss Ana.”

“Milady is still having breakfast in the kitchen, if you wish to join her. I brought your clean clothes; can I leave it in the room for you?”

“Sure.” He nodded. “Thanks.”

A soft melody filled the hallway to the kitchen. Michael was surprised that Marie had her meals there, because… Well, a well-bred girl like her certainly shouldn’t even go near that place. Adding a little more to his surprise, when he entered, said lady stood with her back to him, next to a phonograph and softly swaying her body to the beat of the music. Marie was looking out the window, a cup in one hand and what looked like a crystallized fig in the other. He remained silent as he watched her; something about the scene was so adorable he didn’t have the heart to bother her. The emerald-green silk robe reminded him of when Marie had worn that damned gown. Straining through his memory, he tried to remember what she had been wearing last night when he showed up. He was pretty sure it was something short, but he hadn’t paid much attention – for obvious reasons.

Marie bit into the last piece of fig and let out a moan of approval, sucking on her sugary fingers to clean them up. That was Michael’s cue to sit down as fast as possible and keep his body from betraying him.

She half-turned to grab a napkin, noticing him.

“Why are you here?” Her cheeks heated up. “Since when are you awake?”

“I woke up a while ago, but I just came down.” He lied.

“And why didn’t you announce yourself?”

“Am I being held for questioning, milady?”

Marie crossed her arms, oblivious to the focus the movement brought to her breasts. Her nightgown wasn’t long enough, as he predicted; the girl kept surprising him.

“Well, Ana set the table just to please you, so I suggest you eat a lot to make her happy. And she put our best Portuguese crockery so that you don’t think we’re uncultured.”

“I like Ana.”

“She likes you too.” Marie grumbled. “Enjoy your meal, I’ll go get ready.”

“Will go out today?”

“Yes.”

“Where? With whom?”

“Am I being held for questioning, Mr. Gray?” Maria Clara mocked.

“Touché.”

The truth is, Marie would go to Arrow House to ride Apollo and borrow some books that Grace had left. In the late afternoon, as usual, she would meet Polly for tea.

±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±

A week after the ‘night incident’ that Michael provoked, Maria Clara noticed a slight change in his behaviour. When they were alone, he was relatively pleasant… He even made ‘inside jokes’ with her. The two managed to go almost a whole day without arguing despite working side by side; and the one who informed them of that fact was Isaiah, because both didn’t notice what was happening.

The idea that Michael ‘Shelby’ was just one of many Michaels got stronger when, as they were leaving work on Friday, a lady stopped them calling him ‘Henry’.

“Wait here.” Michael ordered, walking towards the woman.

“It’s his adoptive mother.” Isaiah explained in a whisper.

“Oh.”

She had never met Michael’s other family, because he didn’t talk about them in front of her and, since, theoretically, they weren’t friends. Likewise, Polly wasn’t open to the topic and Maria Clara knew there was no need to poke at the wound; after all, Michael was back in his original family and seemed happy there.

A few minutes later, he waved for Marie and Isaiah to come over.

“This is Isaiah, do you remember him?” Michael indicated his friend. “And this is Maria Clara Barbosa, the Brazilian who works with me. Marie is a marchioness, Mom.”

The woman flushed all over, bowing as etiquette dictated.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace. I’m Rosemary Johnson.”

“Please, there’s no need to do this!” Maria Clara glared at Michael. “I seldom use my title; call me Marie, Mrs. Johnson.”

“If I had known you’d be accompanied, I’d have brought more apples with me and made another pie. Henry loves apples, so whenever we pick them, I bring him some.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you.” Marie smiled politely. “I’m sure Henry appreciates the gesture. And don’t worry, he can always share his pie, right?”

Rosemary smiled as if meeting God, blushing again.

“A marchioness eating my pie! Your brother would never believe that!” She stared at Michael, her chubby hands squeezing his forearm. “W-well, I know you lot are busy, so I’ll get going. It was a pleasure meeting you, Your Grace!”

“Likewise, Mrs. Johnson. I hope you have a good return.” Marie bowed.

“I’ll get you a taxi; come, Mom.” He guided her to a corner of the street.

As soon as Rosemary left, Michael’s sweet pose was replaced by his usual swagger. Maria Clara frowned, wondering who that boy really was. There were few times that she’d caught a glimpse of ‘Henry’, but... She never knew who the real Michael Gray was. It was no news that the way he’d changed once Marie was accepted into Shelby Company had intrigued her, but the man in front of her now… He looked like a confused mix of all the other ‘slices’ of Michaels.

Good God, would there ever be a day in her life that she would stop being so enchanted by him?! That she wouldn’t want to know every little bit of him?!

Instead of accompanying the boys to the pub, Marie chose to go home. She was expecting a letter from Pedro and another from Thea; her brother promised some pictures from Brazil, and Thea promised interesting gossip and an invitation to Louis’ birthday ball.

From anticipation, came hunger. Ana Vera prepared a salad with Parma ham, a chicken pie and three desserts: fig stuffed with soft cocada, chocolate pudding and walnut cake. All to be eaten while drinking champagne, to celebrate her family’s photos.

The agony increased as soon as Maria Clara started eating the pie. No letter had arrived during the day, and it was almost nine in the evening. According to Pedro’s call and their calculations, it should’ve arrived in the morning; and Thea’s by afternoon, because it came from London. Unfortunately, she might not get them until the next Monday.

“What do you think the pictures are?” Marie asked Ana, filling her glass.

“Lots of photos of Rui Patrício, I hope, and of Tiziu too. He must be huge already!”

“Oh, I wish I had stayed long enough to see him grow up and train him.” She pouted. Tiziu was the foal that her mare, Poá, gave birth a month before Marie moved to England.

“But didn’t João say that Tereza is taking very good care of him?”

“Yes, however... I’m not there, you know?!” She sighed.

“I’m sure everyone misses you, especially Rui. He was very attached to you since he was little.” Ana smiled. “When do you think about visiting Brazil?”

“I was going to ask for a few months this year, but with what happened to Grace... I didn’t have the heart to go away.”

“Well, maybe for Christmas?”

“Yeah, it doesn’t hurt to try.” Marie nodded.

The two continued to have dinner reminiscing about Rui Patrício’s stories, as he was the favourite animal in the house. All the others received affection and treatment worthy of a king, of course, but Rui would be the ‘emperor’. Always.

Ever since they rescued him while hiking through the farm.

She decided to start dessert with chocolate pudding, then the stuffed fig, and finish with her favourite: walnut cake. Maria Clara savoured it between laughter and tears. With each letter from her family, she spent a couple of days completely nostalgic. As she was going to bite a fig, the doorbell rang, and her heart sped up in her chest.

“It must be the postman!”

“I’ll answer, sinhazinha! Stay here.” Ana Vera rose, leaving the kitchen like a bolt.

Marie wiped her mouth and headed for the door as well, obviously. What were the chances of waiting calmly until Ana returned? None. Her racing heart tripled its speed at the sight of the ‘postman’. Maybe Michael was developing a habit of showing up at her house unannounced on Friday nights?!

This time, however, he was not empty-handed.

“What is it?” Marie didn’t even greet him, pointing to the basket and the package.

“My mother’s apple pie, and some letters, I suppose. I ran into the mailman as soon as I arrived.”

She flew towards him, taking the package from his hand. Ana Vera apologised for Marie’s ‘eagerness’, invited him in and offered to take the basket to the kitchen. Michael accepted and, as if he had no other choice, followed Maria Clara to the library.

The Brazilian was euphoric as she undid the seal, leaving two letters on the drinking table and carrying a kind of book to the sofa. He approached her, curious. Marie knelt, scattering several pictures on the upholstery and letting out little exclamations, which were soon followed by tears.

“Ana!” She yelled. “Tiziu is in them!”

“Ana is not here.” He walked to the door. “I’ll call her, though.”

Leaving the library, very uncomfortable due to Maria Clara’s crying, Michael bumped into Ana Vera in the hallway. The housekeeper was carrying a tray with stuffed figs and a generous slice of cake, as well as two glasses of champagne and a cup of tea.

“Milord!” The woman smiled. “I was going to meet you both; please, follow me.”

Michael noticed that this time Ana hadn’t corrected herself for calling him by a title he didn’t have.

Marie was still hunched over the photos, reading something that came with them. Her brother had the kindness to write the story about each one, and it made everything even more special. She would dedicate a full page of thanks to Pedro in her next letter. In addition to some family portraits, he’d also included some of her with them or their pets.

“He says that Tiziu is running the same drums as Poá.” Marie turned to Ana, showing the photo of a black horse. “And Eduarda can already recite a poem in French without stuttering!” She illustrated with her niece’s pic. “There are several of Rui Patrício, but I still haven’t read what he said. Give me a second, I’ll find out!”

“She’s telling me about the photos her brother sent, milord.” Ana explained to Michael, since Marie spoke in Portuguese at that moment. “Fancy champagne? Cake? Figs?”

“That chocolate cake was very good, what flavour is this?”

“Walnut; it is Lady Marie’s favourite.”

“Will she hate me if I grab a bite?”

“She rarely hates you, my lord.” Ana Vera was grateful that her sinhazinha was so distracted to noticed what they were talking about. “Besides, we still have a whole cake.”

“I think your concept of ‘hate’ is quite different from mine, Ana.” He joked.

“Trust me, just look at the…” The advice was never finished, because Marie laughed out loud and sobbed, starting to cry again. “Milady?”

“Papa’s the one who wrote it!” Holding up a photo of Rui next to her painting, she was moved by the story. “He said every time they are listening to Carinhoso, he flies to my portrait and rests there. Mama suggested decorating it with my silk ribbon, the one on my debut dress, and now, in addition to chirping, he smooths the fabric. Papa thinks it’s his way of showing he still remembers me!”

“Smart and adorable creature, indeed.” Ana smiled. “I’ll put this one in the frame next to your bed, okay? And Tiziu with Poá’s on the dressing table one.”

“Put this one of Netuno and Urano next to Tiziu’s, please.” Marie handed her one of the family dogs. “I’m so happy I could sing! Ah... I want to see them now more than ever!”

Michael had reverted to being a spectator. Her naivety trapped him, then the Portuguese that made him so aware of everything, and now, he realised that her happiness was a fantastically dangerous weapon. He was holding himself from grinning too!

“Well, sinhazinha, I brought the other desserts and mint tea, if you want. I’ll take the photos to your room and organize them. Goodnight.” Ana bowed, grabbing the letter. “Goodnight, milord.” She repeated in English.

And as her lady-in-waiting left the room, Maria Clara finally seemed to notice that Michael had been there the entire time.

“Oh, you.” She looked at him. “Do you need something from me? Did something happen to Polly? Isaiah? Tommy?”

“No, nothing. I only came by to bring you my pie since I kept thinking about what you said this evening…” He swallowed, the rest of the sentence stuck in his throat.

‘And maybe because I wanted to see you, but I’m not brave enough to admit it.’

“I see.” Wiping off her tears, Marie got up from the floor. “I tend to get a bit emotional when reading my family’s letters, I’m sorry you witnessed this.”

“No problem. I found it very fascinating.” Michael was sincere. “I’ve never received letters from my family, you know? It was quite an experience, even if indirectly.”

“Really?” She blinked, then shook her head.  “Fancy a cup? Fig? Cake?”

“Oh, I was going to eat the cake, but I was afraid you’d hate me.”

“My selfishness for food can be controlled, even if it’s with walnut cake.” Maria Clara joked, offering him the fork. “Ah, I see that Ana decided that English porcelain would be the best option for today. She’s really committed to not letting me look like an uncultured twat.” Smirking, she sat on the armchair opposite his. “Champagne?”

“Sure.” Michael agreed. “What were you telling her in Portuguese?”

“Oh, just some news from home. Rui Patrício, our toucan, surprised my parents by proving that he misses me... Or almost that.” She decided to eat a fig, as to try to calm herself down and look less flustered in front of him. “There is a song that I really like, it’s called Carinhoso... I don’t know exactly what the English translation is, something around ‘Affectionate’ but not quite that… Anyway, Papa said that every time they hear it, Rui flies up to my portrait and starts chirping. I used to hum the tune to him, or play it while I fed him.”

“Wow.” He smiled. “Perhaps he really misses you.”

“Right?! I’ll talk about this in my next letter.”

“Can you put this song on so I can hear it? Only while I eat.”

“Sure, no problem.”

The phonograph was no longer at the kitchen, it was at the library with them. Michael had the slight impression that Maria Clara carried it around the house. He realised as soon as the rhythm started that it was the same one he’d heard last Saturday morning when he was hungover. He’d ask Ana about its meaning, for Marie would never tell him – or perhaps she would, but he’d be suspicious if she was being honest.

He finished the cake in a heartbeat, for it was delicious.

Standing up, he downed the champagne with a large gulp and faced her.

“Tomorrow, when you go to have tea with my Mum, if you can bring the apple pie too, I’d appreciate it very much. It’ll look like Ana made it, and I’ll be able eat it without the tense atmosphere.” He asked her. “Just one slice, if you don’t mind. It’s a really good pie!”

“Who are you and what did you do to Michael Gray?!” Marie asked more to herself than to him. There was his gentle side again, but it still felt like a character.

“Why, Maria Clara, wasn’t you the one who said I appreciated the gesture?”

“I was being polite.” She almost laughed in disbelief.

“But you were right. I like it when my mother brings me food. Both of them.”

Her heart sped up. She didn’t know if from the green eyes, the affectionate tone he’d used at the end of the sentence, or said man. However, before she could even understand everything, Michael said goodbye, taking the last notes from Carinhoso with him.

[ilikekidsshows]

One thing that pisses me off not just about the miraculous fandom but modern fandoms is fans inability to consume long overarching stories.

Like so many people are complaining about how long the reveal is taking or why haven't certain characters outgrown this trait yet or why is this character arc botched or abandoned. Like guys we just got the confirmation this show will be 7 seasons long PLUS like 3 tv specials. We're only roughly halfway through the series.

Once the reveal happens half the tension in the show is gone! I'm not saying leave the reveal till season 7 and make us wait 9 years this isn't HIMYM but miraculous is not a fast paced story. It's a long haul story. I just wish more fans would be patient. Miraculous is in the extremely fortunate and rare position that it will have a conclusive end and not be suddenly cancelled. That was and still is a huge problem for shows and cartoons with dedicated fans but networks pull the plug for stupid ass reasons.

So miraculous fans please chill the fuck out on things not resolving right away. We still have 78+ episodes plus the tv specials. If we get the end to certain things now it'll be so boring.

I think the concept of Instant Gratification describes the issue with many modern fandoms today. I hate to sound like I'm anti-technology, but the constant stream of quick and short bursts of entertainment allowed by the information age has made people more impatient. It's not about waiting for the climax to get a deeper sense of satisfaction, it's about getting that instant gratification right this instant. It's why one-shot fanfics are all over the place, when multi-chapter stories used to be just as common and popular, if not even more so, and it’s also why people are less willing to read a fic that’s still a work in progress. It's why people refuse to watch Youtube video essays even as they leave comments on the topic based on the title and thumbnail alone because, while they couldn't be assed to watch a 20-minute video (let alone an hour long one), they sure can spend that time calling the Youtuber names and making arguments the video actually already refutes. It's why a lot of online arguments happen only because one party read nothing but the first and maybe the last paragraph of someone's post and skipped all the explanation for their point of view (if I've ignored an counter argument for one of my posts, it was either because I missed it or because said counter argument did this. I have attention deficit issues so I do genuinely forget responses sometimes, but I'm also not writing a second essay for someone who's proven to me they won't read it).

Of course, it's only by constantly consuming only fast-paced content that you can become this impatient. People have different ideas about stories based on what stories they have encountered in the past.

Another thing that influences the Miraculous fandom in particular is that, while I love to show off exactly how much Miraculous has done to build up the overarching plotlines, Miraculous isn't really a show that's about a single story. It's easy to understand why people think it is one though: there's one main villain, we keep discovering more about the mythology, one of the main plot threads is the romantic relationship between the leads and singular episodes and plot elements tend to get payoff later. What is the purpose of a show if not to progress the story? Because the heroes aren't getting closer to defeating Gabriel or getting together, people think that the story isn't accomplishing anything.

I'll do a comparison to illustrate why these things aren't as clear-cut signs of a continuous storyline as people think. In the Spider-Man comics, you can pick any issue up and the chances are that the villain will be a part of Spider-Man's already established Rogues Gallery, who's back for more after who knows how many defeats, and those past defeats might even get referenced in callbacks to previous issues. It's also very possible that Peter and Mary Jane's relationship is the central focus with them not being together yet, having relationship problems or even having broken up (in really old issues the girl might be Gwen Stacy and short-term options have also always been available for romantic entanglements). Does this mean Spider-Man is a continuous story where the only point is that all the villains get put away for good and Peter and MJ live happily ever after? No, it doesn't. Spider-Man is designed to go on indefinitely, so there's no clear ending point. So, what is the point of Spider-Man then, if there is no Ending?

It used to be the single issue, because comic books used to have every issue be a stand-alone story about the hero and their supportive cast. These days it's more every three-to-six issues, because superhero comics are written to have short story arcs that can then be collected into trade paperbacks. A superhero series is not a single story; it's a series that functions as a story engine, meaning the series can generate several shorter stories where the hero helps fix a problem or solve a mystery.

In the superhero genre a villain will never get killed off or removed from stories permanently as long as the writers think they can still come up with stories to tell about them. The hero's romantic life will never be completely smooth sailing unless the writer is using other things to ramp up the stakes. Everything always allows for there to be another adventure.

I think the huge success of Avatar: the Last Airbender made people think that a series that is a single story is always superior to a series with multiple shorter plots. When I was liveblogging Sailor Moon, a viewer offered to give me a list of all the non-filler episodes because they genuinely thought I'd feel like I was wasting time on the show otherwise. This attitude is simply not based on fact. It's not fair to compare Miraculous Ladybug to Avatar, because they're both setting up to do completely different things. Miraculous Ladybug is trying to become a brand, like Batman or Spider-Man. It is part of the "Zag Heroes" lineup, a series of French-created superhero franchises to compete in the America-centric superhero market. This challenge is good for the genre, because Marvel and DC have started resembling each other more and more as these companies stew in their old ideas and copy everything that worked for the other one. The superhero genre needs new blood.

Also, Avatar: the Last Airbender first became popular by doing episodic plots for almost the entirety of the first season because it's actually not a wise choice to expect the audience to be willing to commit to a story that'll only give payoff later when working with an untested IP. Very often shows with longer story arcs start with the episodic format to hook people first, and sometimes the more linear plot is introduced specifically because the audience for the show is now expected to be both dedicated enough and older and capable of keeping up. Because, here's the thing: you can't expect little kids to remember every episode or even every character you've introduced in your show. I'm not sure if people are ready to hear that but I'm throwing it out there anyway. Kids are not dumb, they can understand more complex storylines, but many kids are still training their memory, so they might not remember the details of complex storylines that go on for too long.

This is why the news that Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season was going to have a recommended viewing order originally had me concerned. Miraculous is being branded for kids. The plot requiring too much skill in memorizing story details will make it less accessible to kids and might put those two additional seasons at risk. However, it seems that the "constantly changing status quo" concept of Truth, Lies and Gang of Secrets was a fluke and the evolution of the show is more subtle, so they might not be cutting the amount of episodes for those final seasons because the show is getting too complicated for kids to follow all the important details.

Regardless, Miraculous Ladybug being an adventure cartoon TV show instead of a comic book or a more cheaper-to-produce TV drama does mean that Miraculous Ladybug isn’t expected to go on for decades like a superhero comic or a soap opera. Because of this, it can have evolution and changes and even a planned ending. The show is expected to end at some point, even by the people making money off of it, mostly because making a cartoon like this indefinitely costs a lot of money, and kids’ adventure shows tend to see a decrease in returns if they go on for too long.

[brightstrangeworld]

i'm writing a fic that's a little gay and i think it's pretty cool. i'm the slowest writer ever though so be patient with me.

Best Kept Secret (WIP, 3/10 chapters so far)

Rated E, pairing Aziraphale/Crowley, no major content warnings.

i'm a sucker for the trope of a person telling a lie out of necessity but ending up in over their head with it. there's also a lot of sex in it.

progress updates under the cut.

Feb 2: lol fuck

Dec 30: hey elliot why are you starting chapter 7 instead of working on 4. hey elliot why are you starting chapter 7 instead of working on 4.

Dec 25: *laughs evilly*

Dec 19: mental breakdown hours so

Dec 14: it's now "hating myself bc i haven't written in over a week" hours and also feeling like i should be writing right now despite the fact that i'm very unwell from booster side-effects. emotional brain thinks body not working isn't an excuse for not doing mental work despite logic brain's insistence otherwise.

Dec 4: making actual decent progress but help i am suffering i don't know how fancy restaurants work. how many forks are there?? do you get a menu, or is it so fancy that they expect you to know the lore going in? sex is so much easier to write than this.

Nov 29: one of my deadlines is out of the way, so i'll have more time for this now. hopefully all of the other ideas competing for space in my brain won't overpower it too much. also, this lol. credit to @/ao3commentoftheday

Nov 22: progress is... happening. slowly. i know it's been more than a month since i've updated but it's been a heck of a month. i had a number of busy things and seasonal depression has been kicking my ass. i also have a couple of upcoming deadlines for things that will take priority. but i'm making progress slowly but surely!