#it’s available up to chapter 54 on ao3 though!

[lucy4242564]

.birds of a feather.

The world was going to come to an end and Libby wanted to put up the biggest fight she could; she didn’t want to die, not when she’d come so far in her life.

When she fell in with a group outside of Atlanta, she was determined to become a useful member. Despite a brief meeting in the woods and having a crossbow held to her temple, her odds began looking up. She becomes part of the unlikely found family and tries her hardest to crack open the archer she met in the forest.

————

“Hey!” He hollered. “What’s yer name?”

“Libby!” I replied, continuing to scale the limbs.

Once I had completed the journey to the top, I looked back down to see him crouched beside the deer. I let myself take in his appearance one last time: the short, blondish brown hair, the sleeves obviously ripped off his shirt exposing tan, robust muscle, and his crossbow now discarded onto his back.

“Hey!” I yelled down to him. “What’s yours?”

His head tilted up, and I couldn’t clearly see his eyes from where I stood now with how small they were, but I just knew they were squinted.

“Daryl!”

I flashed him a smile, waving my fingers in goodbye.

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Magic and Madness - Chapter Six

To Understand Everything is to Forgive Everything.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> Tony Stark x Stephen Strange

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> Stephen has a job to do, and it almost destroys him. Where else can he go for comfort?

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 2388

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) Avoidance, GSW, ED mentions, alcoholism, internalised homophobia, self-doubt, self-blame, smuuuuut.

𝐀/𝐍 -> A Companion Piece to Multitudes, exploring the relationship of Tony Stark and Stephen Strange. This chapter best corresponds to Multitudes chapters seventeen and eighteen - I recommend starting there if you're reading both <3. Masterlist can be found here!

Check it out below, or on AO3 here! Dividers come from yours truly.

<- Previous Chapter (5/46) Next Chapter (7/46) ->

I avoided the compound like the plague.

The announcement of Natasha's plurality came of very little surprise to me – delivered, as it was, by a video call with Bruce. He didn’t ask why I refused to attend the meeting, and I didn’t volunteer the information.

I couldn’t face the man who had so unceremoniously dismissed me after almost two days of careful touches and hesitant kisses.

My hands shook whenever I thought about the look on his face when he glanced at me – the pure revulsion and desperation I found in his hollow gaze.

Despite my remorse, though, I couldn’t bring myself to regret it. It had been a glorious, if short-lived, experience. My only sorrow was that it had, by all accounts, left him drowning himself and finding solace at the bottom of a bottle.

I tried to be surreptitious in my probing – simply asking after the team when someone reached out to me, clarifying individual members – Tony included – when they weren’t detailed. Nat, in her rare correspondence via video, always made sure to talk about him first, and was by far the most candid.

I got the call in the evening a few weeks after I absconded, phone ringing out , shrill in the darkness. Steven's panicked explanation was accompanied by a backing track of Nat’s staccato, desperate whimpers as I dressed hurriedly, throwing on the first thing my hands reached for – a painfully familiar hooded sweatshirt that still smelled faintly of sex and aftershave.

Wreathed in an agonising comfort, I stepped through to the hospital.

You know I’ve done this too many times when they don’t even look up anymore. A little wonder would be nice.

“What is it this time, Dr. Strange?” My head nurse sighed as she spoke, eyebrow raised in surprise as she glanced at me. “... You look like hell, Stephen.”

“Thanks, Clarissa,” I snapped, rolling my eyes as I smoothed my hair. “GSW to the lower left quadrant. No known spinal implication, and there’s an exit wound. Patient is showing transient consciousness. ETA four minutes. Is there a team free?”

She nodded quickly, pushing herself to her feet. “Yes, Doctor. You got lucky; it’s been a hectic day. OR two is available.”

I nodded sharply, pacing impatiently as I waited. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I wondered if he would be there.

My question was answered as they barrelled through the door, Tony’s hands pressed to the wound in the archer’s side. “BP is 83 over 54 and falling fast. GCS eight, oxygen steady – mostly. Pulse 73 and dropping. Looks like the bullet fragmented after penetration.”

I motioned Nat away quickly, her eyes wide as she trembled, and offered her a quick smile. “I’ve got to get him into surgery. I’ll do what I can, Natash- Nat. I’ll do my best.”

Five hours and six minutes.

His insides were shredded by the shrapnel, and while I lived up to my promise, I hated that I couldn’t do more. My forehead found the wall as I sobbed softly, mourning the parts of the archer I couldn’t save.

But I had a job to do.

So I simply scrubbed a hand over my face and peeled off my bloodied gown, unable to stop the spark of anger that drove me to throw it violently into the contaminant trashcan, jaw set.

I should have done more. I should have been better.

I should have been there. Maybe I could have made a difference.

Natasha was curled on the floor, pressed against the wall, blood trickling through the fingers pressed to her ribs as she stared blankly into the distance. I sighed as I approached, steeling myself. “Let me take a look at you.”

“… Wh… What?” she murmured, blinking owlishly up at us, and I inclined my head toward the blood under her hand, jaw twitching. “I said, ‘Let me take a look at you’.”

She blinked again, blank and disinterested. “We’re fine. How’s Clint?” I offered her a wry smile and an extended hand, pity tugging at my heart. “Let’s make a deal.”

“Clint had a lot of internal damage. A lot. I’ve patched him up as best I could, but…” I sighed guiltily as I slid the needle through the edge of her wound, but she showed no reaction. “You’re lucky he was in front of you. You would likely have lost your lung, but instead it just broke the rib.”

“Lucky,” she scoffed, eliciting a flinch.

“He’s not come around yet. He… We had to perform an ileostomy. There wasn’t enough intestinal tissue left to salvage. He’s been fitted with a bag – if he… That will be permanent,” I added softly, jaw tight with remorse.

I should have been there.

She winced, glancing up. “Will he wake up?”

I hesitated only briefly, the loss of concentration bringing a faint tremor back to my hands. “We don’t know. He lost a lot of blood and sustained significant injuries. He underwent massive transfusions. The fact that he survived surgery is reassuring, but…” I sighed again, head shaking. “I’ve had this conversation too many times lately.”

When she glanced at me curiously, I offered her a weak, shaky smile. “I said almost the exact same thing to Clint, when it was you that may not wake up.”

I spent two weeks in my own alcohol-driven despair, wracked with remorse and selfish thoughts of comfort found in his embrace.

He’d tell me I tried my best. He’d tell me there was nothing more I could do. He...

No.

He’d tell me I repulse him, and that I am wrong.

Two weeks of long and suffering silence was all it took for Clint to start to come around, and I got the call to return. I’d checked on him daily, but they thought I’d like to be the one to break the news to him.

I can’t imagine anything worse.

But the archer, to my wonder, was impassive, seemingly unphased by this permanent alteration to his life, despite my immense shame and guilt.

The only person who seemed to struggle as much as I was Natasha herself. Chained to his bedside, I’d watched her grow steadily more gaunt, refusing all but water – and even that had to be administered intravenously. Not a single morsel or drop passed her lips during her silent vigil, and the weight began to drop from her frame once more.

A quiet word with Bruce when they eventually returned to the compound confirmed my worst suspicions – that she was, once again, skirting danger.

Bruce desperately argued that her weight was holding steady, but I could only snort. “You don’t believe that any more than I do, Banner. We need to find out how this is happening – before it’s too late. And ‘too late’ is approaching far too rapidly.”

The day she ended up being taken, unconscious and severely underweight, I broke.

When I appeared in his bedroom, he was lay with his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

“… Hi. I know I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t be here. I just…”

He nodded slowly, extending an arm to me with a quiet sigh. “Come here, baby boy.”

The name broke me, and I sobbed, falling down beside him and weeping desperately against his chest. “I should have done better. I should have done more. I…”

Shushing me gently, his fingers caressed my back as he held me close. “You did amazingly, honey. You did better than anyone else could have done. None of this is your fault, do you hear me?”

“I knew she was struggling. I knew that something wasn’t right. But I left it to Bruce, and I… I should have spoken to her. Helped her. This is all my fault. I’m not… Fuck, I’m such a… Fuck.”

He brushed his lips against my forehead, pulling me nearer. “Sweetheart, you did everything you could. You were incredible.”

“You never called,” I whispered into his chest, voice cracking. “I thought you hated me.”

He snorted weakly, shaking his head. “You? Never. Myself? Well… That’s a different matter entirely."

“I hate that I made you feel like that.”

“Not you, baby boy. Never you. I… I’ve missed you, Stephen. So much,” he muttered into my hair, fingers tightening against my spine.

“I’ve never hated myself quite so much as I do for what I said to you. I’m so, so sorry.”

I pushed my face through my tears to claim his mouth with mine, hands curling in his hair desperately. “Show me how sorry you are.”

“Aren’t you going to ask-”

“I already know you’re sober, Tony. I’m surprised and impressed.”

“I’ve been sober since Clint’s accident. I… I wanted to prove I can do it. Before I reached out.”

I purred happily, pulling him closer. “Fuck me like it’s you last night on this earth, Stark.”

He raised an eyebrow with a snort, dragging my shirt over my head. “You got it, baby boy.”

I lay in his arms as he smoked, and I scowled. “You shouldn’t substitute one vice for another, love.”

“One makes me significantly less of an asshole than the other, sweetheart.”

“Don’t you also have a ‘no smoking in the building’ rule?”

“It’s my building, who’s going to tell me off? You?” he added with a smirk, and my fingertips trailed his hip lightly, humming with delight at the hard lines I’d missed touching.

“Sounds fun. I might be into that.”

He barked out a surprised laugh, shaking his head. “Doctor Strange, you never cease to amaze.”

I arched an eyebrow, fixing him in my gaze. “Mr. Stark, I am a surgeon who tried to micromanage his own surgery, despite the fact that I would be profoundly unconscious for the procedure. I am nothing if not authoritarian.”

He purred and tugged me nearer, fingers curling around my back to drag me atop him. “Oh, yeah? I seem to remember you being pretty submissive every time I’ve made you beg...”

Smirking, I took his hands from my hips and pinned them over his head, delighting in the soft gulp the motion elicited, pressing my body against his. “You assume I couldn’t make you do the same?”

“Y-You gonna boss me around?” he stammered, back curving minutely against me as he blushed.

I hummed playfully, tongue trailing the length of his jaw. “... Not yet. Maybe when it’s my turn to fuck you.”

He stiffened, and I winced.

Fuck. Why would I say that?

“I-I didn’t mean to-”

“I’m scared,” he ground out quietly, gaze flicking away as he reddened.

I released his wrists and lay over him, watching him with my chin beside the glowing light of his reactor. “... What are you scared of?” I pressed softly, and he grimaced minutely.

“I... I’m not sure. I’m scared it’ll hurt. I’m scared I won’t be... Clean. I... I’m... I know this isn’t exactly straight, but I’m scared that if it’s me that gets... I’m scared that it’s just, y’know, more... g-gay.”

The last word was a pained, shameful whisper, but my heart throbbed proudly.

He’s never said it before. No matter how drunk, or sober, or angry.

He’s never said it.

“Do... Should I talk you through your fears? Or do you just want acknowledgement?” I asked quietly, fingers dancing across his collarbone, and he nodded shyly.

“I-I guess you can... Try and help.”

Smiling fondly, I kept my gaze on him as I thought. “Well... You saw – pretty intimately – my first time. Did I look like I was in any pain?” He shook his head reluctantly, and I pressed a kiss to his chest. “It was... Unusual. A little uncomfortable, at points, but that very quickly gave way to...” I swallowed dryly, cheeks heating. “You’ve seen what you do to me, Tony. It’s... The best I’ve ever felt. By far. By far.” My light shiver made his smirk, hands shifting to caress my back gently. “I don’t think I’ve ever had- No, let me try again. I have never, by far, had so much sex in such a short period of time. And I still want more.”

He grinned at last, palms finding my ass pointedly. “I’m happy to stop this conversation and give you more, baby boy.”

Heart fluttering, I did, admittedly, hesitate thoughtfully before I shook my head. “I’d rather make you feel better... At least first.” He rolled his eyes, but nodded, and I purred. “As for... I mean, it’s not a big deal either way. But there’s ways you can... prepare. Which I could talk you through, but I’m concerned for your blood pressure if I say any more about that,” I teased as his face turned crimson. “But... I’ve never bothered, and we’ve never had a problem, right?” He shook his head slowly, and I grinned, kissing his cheek. “Exactly.”

His jaw tightened in anticipation, eyes drifting further from mine. “As for the last... Tony. My dear, sweet, darling Tony. If you’re straight, all your sex is straight sex, regardless of how you do it. And the same is true for gay people, and bisexuals, and all the other myriad of sexualities out there. It's not more or less of what it is depending on how it’s done. If you’re gay, then you’re gay, and that’s fine. You’re not extra gay if you decide you want to... Be fucked,” I finished, blushing lightly. He was trembling at my words, still unable to meet my gaze, but he licked his lips dryly.

“I’m gay.”

I couldn’t help the blink of surprise, but buried it in a gentle kiss, nipping his lip lightly. “As am I, sweetheart.”

“It... That’s why I never settled down.”

“I tried. I loved her, I truly did, but... She was the only one.”

“I’m... I’m ready to settle down, Stephen,” he added softly, gaze flicking to mine at last. “With you.”

“I... You... Wh... Huh?”

He swallowed again, leaning forward to kiss me lightly. “I want to be yours, Stephen. And I... I want you to fuck me.”

God forgive me, but I am going to commit every sin. Send me to hell if you must; I’ll go with a smile.

The whine that eked from my lips was indecipherable, and he grinned softly. “Stephen Strange... Please fuck me.”

... ... ...

Yes.

Yes.

Yesyesyesyesyesyes-

[linksthoughtbrambles]

"Link's Thought Brambles" fic post list.

Link accidentally activates the Adventure Log feature on the Sheikah Slate pre-Calamity, before its software has been updated by the Great Plateau Tower.  This software version produces a more... er... complete log.

This is the Adventure Log+ AU! Link and Zelda are aged up to 18. Most chapters are rated T, but some are M. Warnings appear before all M chapters, and truly NSFW parts are skippable. (Specific Warnings: some foul language, and NSFW in parts 18, 22, and 54. Some strongly suggestive stuff in parts 31, 34, 38, and 53. Part 53.5 is skippable and very NSFW).

(This fic is also available on AO3 if you'd prefer to read it there).

Part 1: -this thing doing? Stop that, I

Part 2: [Link's strategy has its drawbacks.]

Part 3: [Not uncomfortable at all!]

Part 4: "Let us call this dictation one."

Part 5: [Link keeps track of jerks.]

Part 6: [Link's missed opportunity for a career in catering and event-planning.]

Part 7: [Link finds formalized services distracting. He's trying to pray, for goodness' sake. Be quiet!]

Part 8: [Zelda scrolls through Link's thoughts instead of sleeping. She lingers on some.]

Part 9: Awww. I missed it.

Part 10: [The slate has great hearing.]

Part 11: A series of silly decisions

Part 12: Your fantasies stay in your head, Link.

Part 13: [Link struggles with innuendo.]

Part 14: [No one here is having a good morning, but especially not Link.]

Part 15: [Link starts to pull the threads of his massive brain-knot. Also, scones.]

Part 16: [Zelda tries to be serious. Ducks happen.]

Part 17: [Zelda misses most of this while perfecting her travel itinerary. She reads it later.]

Part 18: Dark Air and Sunshine (mature rating, slightly NSFW?)

Part 19: MELEE (there's some nasty language in here, be warned)

Part 20: Fathers' Rules

Part 21: [Link Navigates Fancy Food.]

Part 22: [Link's subconscious has been ruminating on spoonfuls.] (mature rating, NSFW below the cut)

Part 23: [Zelda's pretty disgusted with herself.]

Part 24: Hi, Mom.

Part 25: A work in progress [a minimum of three, actually].

Part 26: [Link is not a politician, but the king is.]

Part 27: [Link's love for someone is directly proportional to how badly he wants to stuff food in their face.]

Part 28: Give people a party and they'll forget.

Part 29: The Crown's Deputy Fairground Officer

Part 30: [HiRAH for sidequest!Link]

Part 31: Nuts is another word for [a lot of things around here]. (Mature rating, strong suggestion of NSFW things).

Part 32: [Link's fish detection, bird attraction, and monster destruction service.]

Part 33: [Link runs around the castle and digs a deep brain-hole. Not literally. It's a metaphor.]

Part 34: Tiny Flames and Distant Stars (Warning for very strong suggestion of NSFW things. VERY strong.)

Part 35: [Zelda knows her physics and loves it, too.]

Part 36: [Link deals with fluids.]

Part 37: Because, you know, kids.

Part 38: [Link tries to keep it (a) together, (b) romantic, (c ) realistic, (d) casual, and (e) meaningful.] (Warning for very strong suggestion of NSFW things. AGAIN!)

Part 39: In the name of the Goddess Hylia, I offer this.

Part 40: Order Two

Part 41: [Link's mysterious creep-out compass.]

Part 42: One hell of a fantastic idea [or two].

Part 43: The general in charge of storeroom changes and off-key humming.

Part 44: Spin Me

Part 45: Spin Me [Too]

Part 46: She's your sister and you missed her.

Part 47: Like a hundred-pound draw.

Part 48: REMAIN STILL, REMAIN CALM. (Warning for violence).

Part 49: This will hurt.

Part 50: No excitement.

Part 51: [Close encounters of the imaginary-bunny and incorporeal-pig kind.]

Part 52: This gift is not for me.

Part 53: Her Firelight, Her Lightning-Rod

Part 53.5: The Last Leaf in Akkala (Mature Rating, NSFW, a skippable chapter though you'll miss some flavor and character development if you don't read it).

Part 54: [Fi has many useful recommendations and observations.] (I'm giving this one a mature rating for very strong suggestion of NSFW things along with discussion of NSFW things at a mature level.)

Part 55: So. Much. Fun!

___

That's a wrap - this fic is officially complete!

...But there's a sequel! Here it is: Adventure Log+

[jeonshookith]

I wanna share all of the jikook fics I have saved in my phone tabs (1/2)

if you see a reoccurring theme no you don’t

these are all so so good and a majority of them are chaptered or longer one shots since i don’t like reading shorter fics!!

99% of them are completed

these are in no particular order, just as they are opened in my tabs

i did not write any of these fics. i am not claiming ownership.

these are ALL ao3 links

Illuminate -incomplete as of 01/12/2021 but the author updates regularly-ish. (Its 54 chapters so far!)

The Gentle Centaur and The Sea Flower

Waiting on the One (Peace has decided to release this as a book! available on the Kindle App with Kindle Unlimited! u can search the title)

bone appétit

Rubies for A King

the prettiest prize.

heavenly bodies

you put a spell on me

Dazzle Me With Gold

Winter Song

i'm packing a bag of bad ideas (every time i'm thinking of you)

Chasing Broken Dreams

set my love on fire

why don’t you review me?

count your blessings

My Heart’s On Fire For Your Love

the nightbird and the kitten

Paper Planes

Smash or Pass?

Promise I’m Still With You

The One

Flowers in Hades

My Promise

The God of Fertility

Vanilla Baby -chef’s kiss 😘

Rain and Tangerines

Greece and Roses

Tender Peach

Park’s Anatomy

Nanny

Let's Tessellate ♡

In violence I found you -incomplete as on 01/12/2021. The author updated the title issuing hiatus. 2/3 chapters so far.

(Pick me up) - Playing With Fire

Wax, Wane

Strong eyes -update as of 08/27/21 :( i wanted to reread this and realized (i’m devastated) this is not finished. 12/? hasnt been updated since 03/2020

Black Rabbit -incomplete as of 01/12/2021. i’m not sure on this one since the author hasnt updated since 07/03/2020 so.. 31/?

Be My Eyes

Nemesis: Sex

Cutting the Braid -chef’s kiss 😘 i’ve read this like 8 times.

Hotter Than Hell -incomplete as of 01/12/2021. uhm the author hasn’t updated in almost a year but they have been writing this since 2018. its a good read though! 11/?

call it what you want

Favorite Clothes

until the spring comes again, until the flowers bloom again (stay here a little longer)

i have died every day waiting for you (but loved you for a thousand more)

The Dreaming of Escape

Never Judge a Book by its Cover

What Do You See?

A Guardian “Angel”

(my heart beats) for you

Listen Closely

longing: a yearning desire

warm me up (with your lips)

love, the shoreline where you and i meet

Be Not the Slave of Your Own Past

mi casa

to the end of this imagination, i’ll go

unwrap me (and see the present underneath)

Stolen Kisses Under the Sheets

we kiss like lovers (and laugh like best friends)

bndwboy

Chamomile and Honey

知己 (Ego)

Baptise in your Thighs (‘Till It Hurts)

at the edge of your touch

How Do You Say ‘Fuck Me’ In Swedish?

he smells like wolf, Jimin

You Don’t Need Your Airplane Mode

Cherry on the Cake

Hard to Get

false impressions

the seaweed is always greener

Dissonance -this is part of a WHOLE ASS series. these authors are amazing. this is just the jikook fic that belongs to the series.

Adoptions

The Dreaming of Escape

sun and moon

Blank Space -unfinished as of 01/12/2021. 3/4 chapter so far.

You’re Safe Now

love is a wild thing

3 nights

a bite that burns

Almond Dream

sweetener

Matcha Frappe, No Whip

stay a little longer

The Golden Flower

You had me feel the world

Your Song

jimin, I love you

Tangled Up In You

fuck the feral out of you

touch me more

from yesterday, for tomorrow

i wanna feel you in my bones

Talk Nerdy To Me

lets fall in love for the night (and forget in the morning)

Lemon Tree

Fold It Up Like Oragami

Peach in the Garden

laughs and kisses

I hit the 100 link per post limit 🙃 So I’ll do another one I guess? Part 2 posted here!

[zeppelin-and-unicorns]

Fanfic recommendations part two: Stories that take place during season 8 (canon divergence)

This is a smaller category than the previous one, but I promise that those stories are amazing. I’ve read and reread every single one of them, and I love them all with all of my heart. I hope this post is useful to you. Lots of love ❤️

(And yes, they are in alphabetical order. I wish I’ve done that with the post season 8 post too, but it’s up for a while now and it would be just too much work to edit the whole thing)

All These Things That I’ve Done by c00kiefic

Story based on the sexual tension between Jackie and Hyde during season 8.

This story is complete.

26k words, 9 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Don’t Stand so Close to Me by c00kiefic

A story when Eric came back way earlier than he planned to because his friends were being dumbasses and needed some direction. Gotta love Eric Forman.

This story is complete and it’s a super fun read, 10/10.

95k words, 24 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna, Kelso/Brooke, background Red/Kitty

Fear and Loathing in Wisconsin by elphabacan

What if Jackie had decided enough was enough after the slumberparty with Donna and Sam and recruited Brooke to go to Vegas? And what if turnabout is fairplay when they run afoul a charming lounge singer named Jude?

Lots and lots of love for this story. It’s amazing and it’s complete.

42k words, 15 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Brooke/Kelso

Get Away From The Edge by BlueZeppelin

Jackie has been down for a while and it leads her to the Water Tower, alone and depressed. She wants to jump but will Hyde let her?

This story is kind of sad, but it’s still good. I just wish it gave us more details. Don’t read it if you’re triggered by depressive thoughts. It’s complete.

5k words, 3 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

I Think it’s a Real Waste by Jaded

In which Fez and Donna are decent friends to Jackie, and Hyde knows he fucked up. There’s a lot of J/H, but the story also focuses on all the gang. This is a really good story, please read this.

This story is complete.

120k words, 13 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna, Brooke/Kelso, Fez/OC

Into the Woods by c00kiefic

Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful princess with long raven hair and enchanting eyes, whose only desire was to be loved by the handsome, yet distant prince…

I absolutely adore this story, I really, really do. It reminds me of fairytales and it makes me want to cry at the same time. Also, both Hyde and Donna get an not so pleasant “wake up call”, that they rightfully deserved btw.

This story is complete.

41k words, 10 chapters.

Rated T

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde mainly, some background Eric/Donna angst

Pain Without Love by YouLivexYouDie

This story made me cry so hard. It has a happy ending though, so it was worth it.

Jackie Burkhart is about to experience something life changing. She will never be the same afterwards, nor will the people who love her.

This story is complete.

12k words, 3 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Confession by heavinly-vixen

After the torture Hyde had been inflicting upon Jackie since the arrival of his 'wife', Jackie just needs to talk to someone who's on her side.

This story is complete and it has a sequel! It’s called Reconciliation and it’s also complete.

12k words, 9 chapters.

Rated T. The sequel is rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Made Bare by MistyMountainHop

A heartbroken Hyde considers his relationship with Jackie kaput. Too bad Jackie sees it differently. She intends to get a proper resolution with him, but breaking through his hostility — and getting past his wife — may well prove impossible.

This story is complete.

50k words, 8 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, background Eric/Donna

Also available on AO3

Someone To Love by Bunny1

Hyde comes back from his 3 month bender to the unexpected.

This story is complete.

6k words, 7 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

The Birds and The Bees by c00kiefic

Jackie’s pregnant and the father of her child is married to someone else. Amazing story, what I love the most about it is Jackie and Donna’s friendship.

This story is basically complete, the only thing missing is the epilogue.

22k words, 6 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna

The Right Road Lost by zpplnchick

After a car accident, Hyde wakes up to a twisted version of reality he comes to find is actual hell and with no memory of how he got there, a hell that Jackie's been living in for the past few months. Set during Season 8, shortly after "Sweet Lady".

This story is complete.

43k words, 20 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

The Road to Redemption by Hyde’s Bride

Jackie leaves the group because of Hyde and Donna's behavior. Eric comes back early to find how things have changed. When he forms a new bond with Jackie, will it force Hyde and Donna to fight for them? Or will they lose their loves forever?

This story is complete.

33k words, 12 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Jackie/Eric, Eric/Donna

When The Leeve Breaks by zeppelinandunicorns

What would've happened if Jackie and Donna left Point Place when Eric moved to Africa and Hyde married a stripper?

Donna and Jackie moved to Chicago once they realized that they've sacrificed themselves enough for the sake of their relationships with Eric and Hyde. Will it be too late to fix things once the boys realize what they're missing?

This story is a WIP.

So far, 125k words, 23 chapters. This story will be 54 chapters long so... yeah.

Trigger warning: Depression, past eating disorders, child abuse

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna

Zen Vision by Ultrawoman

A series of one-shots turning each and every episode of the horrendous Season 8 into a happy Jackie and Hyde love affair!

This story is complete.

37k words, 22 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

One-shots during season 8:

Being Here by UnfitWriter

Set in season 8, after Sam's departure. Jackie and Hyde can't stand each other, but when something horrible happens to Hyde, Jackie will try to console him in only way she knows how.

5k words.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Here Comes Goodbye by nannygirl

Sometimes you just have to say goodbye. Or not.

5k words.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, background Red/Kitty

Reconnecting by SerenitySparrow

During the party at WB's house in season 8. Jackie and Hyde hook up in a coat closet during the party.

3k words.

Rated M. Very M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Tipping Point by janus_74 (tanner)

How a different Perfect Man list could change the end of Season 8.

4k words.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

So far, this is all.

I’ll repeat this at the end of every single post: speaking as someone who writes, it would be really cool if you guys decide to leave a review (or a comment, if the story is on AO3) in the stories you read, especially the unfinished ones. It really motivates the authors, and receiving a compliment is always a mood lifter. I’ve seen some authors updating stories after years because of nice reviews, so… yeah, this is just an idea.

If you think I left out a good story, feel free to reply to this post!

Next category: Season 7 fix-its.

[p-artsypants]

List of All My Fics!

Every once in a while, I’ll update this list and share it. It is always available on my blog! (I’m up to 54 fics for multiple fandoms! 😱)

Find most, if not more, of these fics on:

Fanfiction.net | Archive of Our Own | Wattpad

(~AU’s, *Finished, ❤️Author’s Favorites)

Kingdom Hearts

~❤️Rage Awakened AO3 | FF.net- Ten years ago, Terra, Aqua, and Ventus lost their fellow apprentice, Sora, in Deep Jungle. Now, they are to return with two new students, Riku and Kairi, to lock the heart of the world. All the while, something watches from the trees. Feral!Sora AU

My Kingdom for a Heart AO3 | FF.Net - The curse of being one of the Princesses of heart, is that there’s always someone out to get you. As Xemnas looked failure in the face, he reached out in a last ditch effort and destroyed Kairi’s heart. Now her friends must travel the worlds again. Sora, to find a way to recover Kairi’s heart, and Riku, to make amends to those he has wronged. All the while, the darkness grows.

Miraculous Ladybug

One Shots

*❤️Amalgam- When an young man is rejected for being ‘incompatible’ he turns into the akuma ‘Amalgam’ able to fuse two people together. And later Adrien and Marinette would debate if it was lucky or unlucky that they got hit. (Also Available in Russian)

*Sing We All Noel- After receiving the worst Christmas present ever from his father, Chat Noir finds himself out on the streets with nowhere to go on Christmas Eve. Thankfully, Ladybug finds him and brings him home.

*Speechless- In a world where everyone has a soulmark, the first words their soulmate will say to them, Marinette is born without one. But Adrien Agreste has two. Curious, considering he’s mute.

*❤️Tunnels of Love- The night started out with an accidental kiss from Adrien Agreste, and ended with her bleeding in the Catacombs of Paris. Ladybug, the wielder of the miraculous of good luck. Yeah right. (Some blood)

*The Reveal That Wasn’t- First Parts My ending to kittybug’s Tumblr Prompt

*What A Mess We’re In- Ladybug has a lot on her mind, and when Chat Noir bugs her enough, she tells him she’s going to confess to her Crush, Adrien Agreste. Chat’s reaction is not what she’s expecting.

*Oblivi-oh no! - A retelling of Oblivio, except Ladybug is the only one to lose her memory. How will Chat deal?

*Bad Day (3 chapters) - Marinette was Ladybug! This was Adrien’s luckiest day ever! Except it wasn’t, because all his good luck was used up in one go. Turns out this might be the worst day of his life.

*One Win, So Many Losses- Marinette was forced to break up with Adrien. It had been a low blow from Gabriel, to be sure. But she was Ladybug. She’d find a solution…right? An alternate ending to Chat Blanc, where Adrien doesn’t Cataclysm the akuma.

*Five Minutes- Gabriel has had enough of all these girls fighting over Adrien. He decides it’s high time Adrien picks one, and arranges the perfect opportunity for him to do so. Each candidate has five minutes to present why they’d be a good girlfriend. Marinette decides to take this opportunity to shoot her shot.

~*Panache- Every eligible maiden was invited to the Prince's ball. That included Marinette, scullery maid in her own household. But her stepsisters destroyed her dress, and she can't go to the ball in rags. Or can she? (Cinderella!AU)

*Perfect, No Matter What-In which Gabriel sets the bar even lower for himself, a reveal happens because of pain medication, and the new guardian actually goes to Chloé for advice.

Long Fics

*❤️Longest Night- (FF.net | Ao3) - The day started out sucky to begin with. Her crush ousted to the class and Adrien. Lila taking pride in exacting her revenge. But by the time patrol was over, a young man was dead, and Ladybug’s identity was at risk. Lila was the least of her concerns. Good thing Adrien was taking it all like a champ. (Rated M for scenes of torture)

*❤️Nine Lives- (FF.net) When Adrien Agreste is scheduled to go to a Military School in Germany, Chat Noir must make a critical decision. Does he give up his Miraculous? Or does he give up his life as Adrien? I’ll save you the trouble of guessing, he gives up being Adrien.

*Tender Words- When Marinette finally gets the guts to confess her feelings for Adrien, some things go so wrong, and other things go so right.

*Integrity- Overwhelmed with her responsibilities, guilt, and drama, Marinette has an emotional breakdown in front of everyone, and even hands over her earrings in a moment of weakness. Only for a few seconds, but the damage was done. Adrien’s pretty quick on the uptake like that.

~Much Obliged- Everyone deals with grief differently. Some take to drinking, others devote themselves to charity. Adrien Agreste? Well, he became a cowboy. Marinette Dupain-Cheng is a witch, one of very few in the world. She knows what it's like to be doubted, and assumed delusional. Maybe that's why they got along so well. Or maybe it's just because they both like big hats. AU where everything is the same, except instead of superheroes, Adrien is a Cowboy and Marinette is a witch. (Unfinished) (Based on a AU by @bugaboo-n-bananoir)

I'll Handle This- “I’ll solve all your problems,” Plagg had said. “You just have to agree to it.” A fixed relationship with his father, Lila to stop bothering him, and Ladybug to fall in love with him? Who wouldn’t agree to that? Except Plagg was the God of Destruction and Chaos and had a more…hands-on approach. Adrien just wants his body back. (Body swap fic)

How To Train Your Dragon

One Shots

The Vikings Have Their Tea (FF.Net | AO3)

Arranged Marriage- Takes place at the beginning of HTTYD

❤️Breathe- Survival of the fittest

~Childhood Friends- At the Sandbox

❤️Easy Fix- In which Hiccup has a bad day

~Fashion Designer- Astrid needs a fill in

❤️Frozen- In Which Astrid takes a Dip and things get frisky (Rated M)

❤️Headache- In Which Hiccup hits his head….really hard

❤️Heir- In Which Hiccup is Picked (Longer version by FateCharms)

Illness- In Which Stoick is a dad

~Illusionist- Trick gone wrong

~In the Walls- In which there’s a poop ghost

~Knocking On The Wrong Door (2) - A chance encounter

❤️Messages- Astrid is Frustrated with Hiccup’s obliviousness

~To Mirkwood- Hiccup is not a dwarf

~Monster Falls- Hiccup and Astrid take a dip

❤️Mute- In which there’s a quiet stranger

~Music Video (ImgHS)- He didn’t expect it

❤️Operation: Lovebirds- In Which the gang makes a plan, and Hiccup gets Drunk

~Over- Too many nightmares

~Partners in Crime- A normal day at work

~Pirate- Astrid is the greatest treasure

~Prince- He doesn’t want to be a broken King

❤️Sorting Things Out- In Which Astrid gets her ducks in a row

~The Dragon and The Dame- Beauty and the Beast Au

The Pit- In Which Hiccup is rescued

Hide and Seek- Part 1

Lost and Found- Part 2

Long fics:

*❤️Infernal Responsibility- Being the son of the chief takes brains, courage, and a lot of patience. But at his father’s the request for marriage, Hiccup decides he has had enough. When he seeks out a life of ease, he runs into more than what he bargained for.

*❤️Roses and Lilies- “Astrid, you and I both know you’re much tougher than I am. You’re more brave, and a better fighter…but just for a little while…could we pretend that I’m the one protecting you?” “Oh gods yes!” (Also Available in Spanish!)

*~What the Water Gave Me- The sea is a wild and dangerous thing, something that cannot be foretold or predicted. Hiccup discovered this many years ago, in human naiveté. Yet, what was meant as a sacrifice became a new life, one like no one could comprehend. He now finds himself once more in the unknowing hands of those that sentenced him to death. He only prays things will be different this time. Merman!AU

*Parasite- Soulsnatcher Dragons are rare but deadly. But, As Hiccup finds out, it’s the eggs you have to watch out for.

*~320 State Street- Gobber’s Goods. A Hardware Store that was rumored to have everything you needed. She thought she only needed a job. Turns out, she needed a lot more than that. (A Modern AU no one asked for)

*~❤️The North Tower- When Finn Hofferson died, Astrid inherited his castle in Wales…and a whole lot more. Something sinister lurks in the North Tower.

*~❤️Boy Toy- AO3 - At the age of 21, Princess Astrid lawfully has to pick a husband. But when the perfect groom is nowhere to be found, she requests the toymaker to create one for her. It’s safe to say that everyone in the kingdom is a little concerned. (Pinocchio!AU I guess?)

No, You Go First- AO3 - The Chief of Berk was a headstrong viking, stubborn and full of pride, and willing to do whatever it takes to keep his village safe. But for a moment, he puts that aside, and listens to his son. In which Hiccup convinces his dad not to make him go through Dragon Training, and the subsequent changes that follow.

*In Due Time- AO3 - As another illness sweeps through Berk, Gothi needs another ingredient for her medicine…one that doesn’t exist anymore. Fortunately, she kept that old spell book around for such an occasion. Big Hiccup is sent to five years into the past, and his younger self sent to take his place in the future. But it’s only a few days, what could go wrong?

Trollhunters: Tales from Arcadia

❤️Arcadia or Bust- In Which Arcadia welcomes back it’s underground citizens.

Teen Titans

Oneshots:

~Big Brother- Don’t turn out the light (Horror)

Dear Jason- Bruce Writes a letter

Just Drawing- Bruce thinks about Robin

The Prisoner- Starfire is Guilty

Of Mustard and Three Foot Purple Tongues- A collection of Oneshots and Drabbles

Long Fics (*Finished):

*~❤️Carol of the Bells- High in the dark Bell Tower of Notre Dame, there lives a mysterious bell ringer. Legend tells of the angel who fell from the sky, and the curse she bares. There are few who know her true identity though; her master, the priest, and the acrobat that performs on the streets below. Based loosely on ‘The Hunchback of Notre Dame’ RobxStar and slight BBxRae

*No Escape- Three years ago, Starfire escaped an Alien race called the Gordanians, to arrive on Earth. They’re back, and ready to put Starfire back where she belongs, behind reinforced Titanium bars. Robin’s not about to let her go…if only he hadn’t got captured first. How does it feel to be the alien, Robin?

*Now you Know My Pain- When the new Villain, Gender Bender, comes to down, the Titans find themselves in an odd situation. They’ve been turned into the opposite gender against their will! Now in order to change back, they must learn to understand the gender they’ve turned into. Rated T for obvious reasons. A great read if you’ve ever wondered why girls or guys do [blank].

*Paint it Black- Robin disappeared three months ago. Now, Jump City’s crime rate is mysteriously being taken care of by a normal, albeit strange, teenage boy who goes by the name Black. As the Titans befriend this lunatic, they begin to see a relation between him and their missing leader. Will they be able to find Robin, or will Black turn them all insane as himself? Actually, contains NO OC.

*Saving Grace- “When I’m done with you, you won’t be able to walk upright or speak coherent sentences and all you’ll see is my mask and my voice repeating in your head…Weak. Richard Grayson, I am not tough, I am everything that you fear.” Happy Ending! Smudge of RobStar. NO Slash!

Other Fandoms

Final Fantasy XV

❤️Requiem for Pitioss-“O King. The god’s have heard your cries. Know that we weep with you. The Oracle’s calling has not yet been fulfilled. But…Lunafreya as you know her cannot return the way she was.” Noctis looked up, hopeful. “But she can return!” Canon divergence from Chapter 9. Happy ending. Some spoilers.

Beauty and the Beast

*❤️Behold the Beast- A Oneshot alternate ending to the Animated Film

Cinderella

*❤️Midnight- “When the clock strikes twelve, the spell will be broken,” the fairy godmother had warned. A retelling of the story, when Cinderella doesn’t escape the ball in time. Oneshot

*So This is Love- What if Jaq and Gus hadn’t made it in time to help Cinderella? A new twist on the ending of the classic Fairytale, and what lies beyond the story. She still gets her happy ending and her Prince, and her step family gets their just deserts.

Sleeping Beauty

*❤️A Love Song Back To Me- Maleficent saw the loophole that stared her in the face. Prince Phillip would break the curse in time, for sure. After all, he was betrothed to Aurora. So in an effort for her evil plan to stay in action, Maleficent takes care of the young prince herself. Phillip never imagined having to live off the land like the birds above. Alternate twist on the classic Disney tale.

Escaflowne

Down Feathers- Hitomi’s depressed. She’s been away from Van too long, he comes back to visit her…but what if something went wrong with the transfer? (Not finished. Never will be finished. Mwahaha) Circa 2012

*Angel’s Wounds- Fanelia’s been victorious in their most recent battle with Basrum. Unfortunately, someone is wounded and just seeks solace in his love that lives so far away. Post Anime.

Momma Look Sharp- With the war between Fanelia and Basrum finally coming to a close, the kingdom is celebrating. The young king, however, is suffering from an experience unlike any he had before. Van finally seeks solace in his wife.

[twilighteve-writes]

Feather One Divided -- Chapter 1: The Dream

Fic Summary:

Feather one divided, fate’s ties frayed, Fractured and wedged, scattered and gone.

After sharing an unsettling dream of Felldrake, the Three Caballeros decided to join back together with Xandra to form a stronghold in case the sorcerer returned. But Felldrake’s plans proved to be bigger than they expected, and when he struck so close to home, it was all Donald could do to keep his family – and himself – together.

(Also available in AO3)

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Feather one divided to three,

The red, the blue, and the green.

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The rush of wind upon her face – unfamiliar, harsh, cold. The sky expanded, the universe opened for her eyes, galaxies swelling and shining with the light of stars and colorful nebulas. Rocks floated, seemingly weightless, but her feet stayed firmly grounded. The rocks may escape the laws of gravity, but she couldn’t.

A shape loomed over her, an ominous shade of purple. It was a giant fowl with multiple horns and large, round belly, with booming voice that rang and echoed in the galaxy. His whole appearance would have been hilarious with how dramatic he was if he wasn’t also downright terrifying. He grinned at her, and dread pooled in her stomach – something whispered in her mind, telling her that he shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be like this, that this was wrong, all wrong.

Red and green flashed around her and ran to the giant fowl, and she followed, clad in blue light. There was a weight of a sword in her hand, unfamiliar but not unwelcome.

The shape reached out, striking out like a snake. Her sight was obscured in the purple, and the world went dark.

She woke with a start.

She blinked, for a moment disoriented. She took a deep breath and felt her magic, knowing immediately that the dream didn’t come from her. With that in mind, she rose from her bed and treaded lightly on the wooden floor, making her way to the houseboat.

“Donald?” she called softly as she opened the door to his bedroom. “What was with that dream?”

Her brother was curled up on his hammock, face illuminated by his phone. He looked up at her and tiredly waved her away. “It’s nothing. Go back to sleep, Dell.”

“Are you sure? That didn’t feel like nothing,” Della said. “And you’re up. Are you okay? Should we go to the kitchen?”

Donald snorted. “Uncle Scrooge will be mad if we drink coffee and eat brownies again.”

“Well, there’s hot chocolate.”

Donald shook his head. “It’s fine, Dell. Go back to sleep.”

Della studied his face. “Well… if you’re sure.” She turned, her gaze on Donald lingering, and walked away. “Goodnight, Don.”

“Night, Dell.”

The door clicked shut.

With Della gone, Donald returned his attention to his phone, scanning the last texts in the group chat with Panchito and José.

 [9:27 PM] José: ok, so i will go to mexico to get panchito and then we’ll get you see you in duckburg, donald  :))

[9:29 PM] Panchito: i’m so excited for this! the caballeros, back together again!

[9:30 PM] Me: yea i’m excited too!! see you soon guys!

His fingers hovered over the keys, thinking about what he wanted to write. Before he could decide, the phone dinged softly as a new message came in. He checked in, reading the text, and the phone dinged again and again as more message came in.

 [2:43 AM] Panchito: hey did you see that

[2:44 AM] José: are you talking about the felldrake vision? si

[2:44 AM] Panchito: oh good! that’s not just me

[2:45 AM] Me: no?? notg ood? guys we haven’t heard of felldrake in literal years and we just had a shared vision this feels like an omen?

[2:47 AM] José: but we can’t do anything about it now we should meet up first i think discuss it in person

[2:48 AM] Panchito: and also see if we get more vision? maybe xandra will meet us

[2:49 AM] Me: do we know where she is or how to contact her

[2:50 AM] Panchito: no, she didn’t say

[2:50 AM] Me: well shit

[2:51 AM] José: ok, i have an idea i’ll hit the places xandra might be in as i go to panchito we’ll search for her as we go to duckburg when we get to donald we continue searching maybe we can check the old cabana

[2:53 AM] Panchito: that sounds good

[2:54 AM] Me: yeah, ok see you soon?

[2:54 AM] Panchito: see you soon buenos noches, dulces sueños

[2:55 AM] José: you too, panchinto, donald

 Donald locked the screen and set the phone away, mind whirling. It had been a while since he thought in length about Felldrake. After all, they hadn’t heard of the sorcerer after he ran away in Sheldgoose’s body, and while Xandra had gone to track him down, there was no word about it. In his mind, he’d assumed that maybe Felldrake had just… croaked.

He sighed and laid back down, one hand snaking underneath his pillow. He froze when his fingers brushed against something cool and hard, and he took it out.

The familiar amulet gleamed in his hand.

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Louie suppressed a yawn as he opened the fridge to get milk. The morning was lazy and sluggish, with the occupants of the manor reaching for coffee or breakfast for their chosen pick-me-up. He knew, though, that it wouldn’t be for long. Uncle Donald told them that Panchito and José would be visiting, which was exciting to say the least. They were fun to be around.

As he poured cereal into his bowl, though, he noticed Uncle Donald blearily looking at his mug, looking more pensive than excited. Frowning, Louie opened the carton of milk and asked, “So, Panchito and José. When will they arrive?”

“Hm, hwha?” Uncle Donald looked up to meet his eyes, his magic just as sluggish as he looked. The question registered and he nodded. “Right! Panchito and José, right. They’ll arrive maybe in a week or so, they’re kind of sightseeing as they go.” He straightened up, seemingly regaining a bit of clarity. “But I know you kids are going later, and you’d better be back for lunch.”

“Aw, don’t worry, Uncle Donald. We’re just going to be in Funso’s for a bit,” Huey assured. “As long as Dewey doesn’t spend too much time playing that new spy game…”

“Hey, that new spy game is the spiffiest game in existence, and I will not let you slander it.”

“It’s okay, we’ll make sure to check the time,” Webby said.

“Alright, then. Take care, you guys.” Uncle Donald went back to contemplating his coffee mug. Mom glanced at him, frowned, and turned to the kids.

“Anyway, you kids have enough money for the bus fare? Do you need anything?”

“That’s okay, we got everything,” Huey said. The rest of breakfast went down quietly, though Louie noticed Mom and Uncle Donald’s magic keep rising and poking each other the way they always do when they talked magically. A part of him wondered what they were talking about, but then he remembered the one time he asked they answered, in unison, taxes. He was too young to be thinking about taxes, thanks.

The four of them set off to the bus stop, meeting up with Violet and Lena on the stop nearest to Funso’s. Webby immediately flocked with the girls, chattering up and down about anything and everything as the boys exchanged greetings with them. Dewey practically dragged the girls to play Double-O-Duck while Huey and Louie opted to hang about the tables, people watching and waiting for the others to be done.

“Hey, do you want something to drink?” Louie asked after a while.

“Sure. We can share a cup, that’ll be cheaper,” Huey said. He glanced at Louie and whispered, “And, hey. Water, alright?”

“Psssh, Huey. It’s like you don’t know me at all.” Louie rolled his eyes and went to get the cup, already wondering if the Pep station was filled or not.

Huey huffed. “My brother is a criminal,” he commented dramatically. “Anyway, I’m gonna go check out the arcade. Meet you later?”

“Sure.”

Louie eventually settled for the punch, and he sat on the table, happily skimming though social media using Funso’s free wifi – it was slow, but bearable.

The sound of a chair leg scraping against the floor drew his gaze up, and he came face to face with a goose in purple who stared into his eyes with much more intensity than he was comfortable with. Upon seeing Louie looking up at him, he smiled. “Hello,” he greeted.

Louie blinked. “Uh, hi?”

“Is this seat taken?” the goose asked again. Without waiting for Louie’s answer, he leaned forward and placed his chin on his hand. “Tell me, boy. Are you alone? Don’t your parents know to not leave kids alone in places like this?”

Louie blinked again and sized the goose. “I’m not alone,” he said as he slipped his phone into his pocket and took the cup – it was empty by now – and slowly slid off the chair. “But I was told not to talk to strangers. Bye.” He walked hastily, passing the goose, eyes already scanning the arcade to find Huey.

“Hey, don’t be so hasty.” The goose’s hand shot out and caught Louie’s elbow, and he dropped the empty cup. “I just wanted to talk to you a bit. I’m a little concerned, you know, since you’re alone and all.”

“I’m not alone. Let go.” Louie tugged his arm away, but the goose didn’t relent. Panic whispered into his magic as he dug deep into himself, searching for Huey’s comfortable warmth and Dewey’s excitable sparks.

The goose had been maintaining a thin smile the whole time, but the moment Louie reached for his brothers’ magic, his smile widened into something bordering on a grin as something washed over Louie. It felt vast and limitless, dark with twinkles of light in the distance, and so so cold and unforgiving Louie felt his knees buckle immediately. He caught himself on the table and scrambled back, but the goose kept his hold.

“Oh,” the goose breathed. “Interesting.”

“Let go,” Louie demanded again, but his voice had grown weak.

“No, no, look at you. You don’t look like you can even stand up straight.” The goose tilted his head as his grip grew tighter. “Why don’t I just… make sure you’re okay?”

Louie opened his mouth to decline, but his tongue felt leaden, his body heavy, the vastness dark twining his limbs and pressing him down like invisible load upon his shoulders. Only his left hand seemed to feel lighter, and he didn’t know why.

“Hey!”

A hand grabbed his arm while another ripped the goose’s hold away. Louie stumbled as the invisible load lifted, as he found his voice once again. He looked up to see Funso’s pig manager, who took one look at him and hastily shoved him behind his leg. “Sir, what were you doing to the kid?” he asked menacingly.

“Oh, I was just making sure the boy is alright,” the goose reasoned as he stood up. “He looks unwell, and it doesn’t look like his parents are around.”

“Do you know him?” the manager asked again.

“I don’t – I don’t know him,” Louie interjected before the goose could reply.

“Is that so,” the manager growled at the goose. He glanced back at Louie and looked around. “Look, kid, you look shaken, so why don’t you go find Jane and go sit in my office for a bit?”

“No.” Louie’s answer might have come a little too quickly, given how the manager glanced at him in concern. “No, I’m. I’m fine. I’m just gonna go find my… friends.” He shuffled back.

The manager handed him a new cup. “At least take this. Go drink whatever, it’s on the house.”

“Thank you,” Louie took the cup with shaky hands and bolted out of there, catching the sight of the manager talking softly but sternly to the goose, who held a neutral smile on his face the whole time as he climbed the stairs to the arcade area.

He almost crashed into Huey as he ran into the arcade area, and Huey immediately steadied him. “Louie?” Huey called. “Are you okay? I felt you reaching out, what happened?”

Louie blinked, meeting Huey’s concerned gaze, trying to control his hands so he didn’t crush the cup in his hold. “Um, there was a… a man, a goose, he gave me the creeps. Funso’s manager dealt with him.”

Huey breathed, and Louie could almost feel his concern bleed into relief. The sound of people running closer drew their attention, and they turned to check. Dewey, Webby, Lena, and Violet ran to them, and Dewey skidded to a halt as he reached to Louie.

“What? What? You felt weird earlier, did something bad happen?” Dewey grabbed Louie by the arms and stared at him.

Huey placed a hand on Dewey’s. “Louie said there was a creepy man, but the manager dealt with it.”

Louie nodded and held up the cup. “The manager said I can take whatever. I guess that’s a compensation or whatever.”

“Did he say anything to you? The creep?”

“Not really. But he wouldn’t leave me alone. He grabbed me by my arm.” Louie frowned. “I think… he might have magic.”

“Did he feel like space? Big, dark, cold?” Lena cut in. “Because I felt that rising, earlier.”

“Yeah,” Louie gulped. “Yeah, it felt like that.”

Dewey looked around. “I don’t like this. Someone grabbed you and he has magic? And it felt paralyzing earlier.”

Huey blinked. “Oh. That was from him? The heaviness?”

Louie nodded. “I don’t know if he’s still around. If he is, I don’t want to stay here.”

Violet looked around. “What is he?”

“Goose in purple.”

“I don’t see anyone fitting that description.”

“Hey, come on. Let’s get you something to drink.” Webby took the cup and his hand and led Louie back to the tables. “I’ll get you something. What do you want? Pep? Punch?”

“I think I can do with Pep,” Louie admitted with a smile.

“One Pep, coming right up!” Webby interlocked her elbow with Lena’s and dragged her away.

“Hey, I know it’s just happened and it’s probably still really scary for you, but can you tell in detail what the goose is like?” Huey asked as Louie sat down. He had flipped his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook to an empty page at the back. “I’ll write it down, just in case we need to tell someone about it.”

Louie shrugged. “Goose. Dressed in purple suit, I guess? He’s got black hair and this weirdly shaped mustache. Like lightning bolt, or something.” He rubbed his eyes. “Ugh, it feels all creepy crawly. I think I tried to reach you two, earlier. He commented that it’s interesting.”

“How did he even get inside in the first place?” Violet wondered aloud. “I thought adults aren’t allowed in if they aren’t escorting children.”

“Uncle Donald has gotten in by saying he’s here to pick us up, maybe he said something similar,” Dewey said. He sat by Louie’s side, purposefully pressing their shoulders together. “It’s good if the manager’s kicked him out, though.”

Violet fiddled with her bracelet in thought. “Maybe you should call your uncle or your mother,” she suggested. “For safety reasons.”

The triplets exchanged glances and nodded. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” Huey said. “I’ll text Uncle Donald, since he’s the one who actually owns a car.”

Webby and Lena came back later, just as Huey finished up his conversation with Uncle Donald, bearing a cup of Pep for Louie. “Here you go,” Webby said, putting the cup by Louie’s hand. “Anyway, you can relax a bit. Lena checked earlier if there’s any weird magical signatures around, she didn’t get anything.”

“I mean, I got traces, but it’s probably from that creepy goose from earlier. The traces led outside though, so you’re all good,” Lena explained.

“Thanks.” Louie took the cup and sipped.

“Uncle Donald will pick us up soon,” Huey announced. “He said he’ll text if he’s arrived.”

“Cool, cool. Can we talk about something else now?” Louie said.

They were silent for a moment, then Violet spoke up, “Well, I was in the library a few days ago. I read something interesting in a book, …”

Louie settled in his seat and let Violet’s words wash over him.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It didn’t take long for Uncle Donald to arrive with Mom in tow. Funso’s manager, who had been pretty much leaving them alone but hovering near while glancing around warily, walked them to the edge of the pier and explained the situation to them.

“Goose in purple suit?” Uncle Donald repeated, speaking slowly to make sure the manager understood him. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, purple suit. He has black hair and mustache looking like lightning bolts,” the manager confirmed. “He looked a bit too spiffy for our usual patrons, and he claimed he was looking after his niece, but he couldn’t point which kid. We kicked him out earlier, but you might want to look out.”

Uncle Donald looked around warily. “Yeah… yeah. Goose in purple suit. Thanks for the info.”

“Well,” Mom said as the manager went back to Funso’s and they were all seated in the car, “I guess we should all head back to the manor. We have board games at home so you guys could do that instead?”

“As long as it’s not game night again,” Huey muttered.

“I dunno, I think the last one was exciting,” Webby shrugged.

“What… happened in the last game night?” Violet asked.

“Do we even want to know?” Lena added.

“Oh, it was nothing! Just the family getting shrunk and we had to fight on Scroogopoly board.” Webby shrugged. “You know. Typical stuff.”

“Also, Scrooge gets crazy competitive so you might not want to get him involved. When it was just the three of us he got disturbingly happy at beating us in so many games…” Mom added.

“The last one was kind of my fault though. I was the one who shrunk Gyro and everything…” Louie grimaced and looked away, curling into himself in his seat.

The ride back to the manor was filled with their chatter, and Louie felt his frazzled nerves settle back into calmness. When Uncle Donald parked the car, he shooed the kids inside and took out his phone.

“Don, what are you doing? Let’s get inside,” Mom called from the doorway.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up soon,” Uncle Donald said, putting his phone by his ear. His voice was hushed when he talked, but Louie caught him saying Panchito and José’s name.

Louie ignored it in favor of going inside, idly chatting with Lena. He turned back to the door when he heard Uncle Donald stepping in. He stared at how Uncle Donald glanced outside warily, looking around, as if searching for something.

A part of him felt safer, with how Uncle Donald clearly looked after them. The other, for some reason, felt unsettled.

[radical-rad1986]

ESS sign-ups

Mmm... maybe sideblogs don’t show up in tag searches?? Because my key chain post does?

So the Escaflowne Secret Santa (ESS) is a gift exchange that’s going into its fifth year. If you love Escaflowne you should join! We love new blood people. Please follow the @esca-ss​ blog for information and updates!

Thanks @drkstars-art for reminding me! Omg it is almost the end of October isn’t it? :/

Yes I’mma still use this sideblog for sign-ups bc it functions. Sign-ups end 11/16, partners will go out 11/20. Please post gifts by 1/11/2020. (Cannot type ‘2019′ for that ha.)

Sign-up form is here, send your info to icm.9302014 [@] gmail.com to sign up. FAQ is here, if you can’t find the answer holla at me.

Remember that I ignore time zones; if your time zone is right then you’re good!!

Anyone who loves Esca and wants to participate is welcome!!! Reblog and tag!!

-----

If the blog doesn’t work, here’s the FAQ/Information and the Sign-up form:

- 

Don’t see your question here? Just contact Rad via any method (email: icm.9302014 [@] gmail.com). [Heeeey, that’s a different email…. Yeah I don’t mind that the internet can see it. Responses will come from my primary email.]

What is the ESS?

The Escaflowne Secret Santa (ESS for short) is a fan-created holiday gift exchange to promote friendship between those who enjoy Escaflowne and to create new works for the fandom.

Who runs the ESS?

radicalrad-1986, call her Rad, hosts the ESS exchange. So far we’ve got four! wonderful years under the belt!

Do you need help organizing/running the ESS or working the Tumblr site?

At this time, no. If help is needed there’s already a list going. If there arises a situation in the future where Rad needs help she’ll ask. Thank you!

Who can join/participate?

Anyone and everyone who loves Escaflowne! You don’t need to be a part of the location we hang at or our little usual group on Tumblr. If you love Esca then come have fun, meet new people, make stuff for the fandom! It does not matter how old you are* or how old a fan you are; come join! (* = Please be 18+/local age of consent to participate in the NSFW exchange.)

How does this work?

1) Sign up by filling out this form and emailing it to icm.9302014 [@] gmail.com.

2) Receive your recipient’s name. 3) Create! (Keep it a secret!) 4) Check in at the requested times. 5) Post! 6) Have fun!! – Each year there will be someone helping Rad give out a set of names - including hers! Please check in with Rad, not the secondary person. Generic questions about the ESS should be directed at Rad. If you receive Rad’s name and have a question about her gift please contact the secondary person OR if you directly ask Rad be sure you’re anonymous.

When are the sign-up dates / posting dates?

These dates will change as the years go by so they’re not set in stone. If Rad is on top of things (haha) sign-ups will begin early October and posting week is mid/late December or early January. For the posting week you have the entire week, you’re not late if you post on Wednesday or Saturday instead of Sunday! :)

What can I do as a gift for my recipient? What quality does it have to be? How much time should I spend on it?

Whatever you want! If you’re a writer, write! If you’re an artist, draw! If you like making animated images, animate away! Music videos, fan soundtracks, manips, whatever your talent is. Please make something for your recipient to enjoy; if they don’t like Dornkirk don’t draw or write something elaborate based on him. Quality and time spent are hard to quantify. No one expects you to spend years on it or break yourself over it. “Please spend more than five minutes and don’t gift a rush job,” goes without saying. Surely no one will give a rushed gift but so it’s been said. Don’t compare yourself to another gifter and feel bad; know that your gift will be loved by the recipient and the fandom for the care and time you put into it.

Can I gift something NSFW or state that I’m fine with receiving it?

Yes! There is a secondary swap for those who are alright with NSFW. If you’re not into NSFW no worries! Must I gift something NSFW if I’m in that group? No; if your inspiration does not lead down that road that’s alright. It’s a way for people who are comfortable in the area to give/receive NSFW while those who are uncomfortable don’t have to worry.

Can I do BOTH swaps if there are two swaps?

Sure! The point is to have fun, so why not double it?

How/where should I post my gift?

Wherever you want; Rad is primarily linking to things on AO3 due to Tumblr’s 12/2018 stupidity.

– NSFW entries that are SFW: Please comment in the post that they are SFW as Rad will tag them that way for the filtering/block systems.

– NSFW entries that are NSFW MUST be under a cut!

– Tagging: Please @-tag this blog, esca-ss. In the tags section please tag it “ESS(space)[year]”. For example, “ESS 2017.” For the NSFW please tag it “NSFW(space)ESS(space)[year]”. Example, “NSFW ESS 2017”. Rad uses the Tumblr Search function to make sure she doesn’t miss postings. If this blog, esca-ss, doesn’t reglog your post within 48 hours please contact either this blog or RadicalRad1986 and nudge me.

Where do I sign up?? How much information should I provide? May I ask for an extra personalized gift?

Please email your form toicm.9302014 [@] gmail.com.

You can provide as much information as you want! Don’t write a book but don’t submit a single sentence either. :) — An ‘extra personalized gift’ means you’d like something based on fic you’ve written or art you’ve drawn or if you really like someone’s headcanon and you want your gift based on that. A generic request is alright but not specific (example of specific: fic A, chapter 2, lines 12-54). You must also include at least three generic likes as well. [If its longfic you can point to a chapter or two because yeah we may not have time to read 500,000 words.] Etc; it is not limited to fic, art, or headcanon. —— Example: “So I’d really like art based on this fic (URL link) that I/someone else wrote.” Or “I’d love to see a story based on this art (URL link) that I/someone else drew.” Or “Xyz posted this headcanon and I’d love to see this explored.“ As well as “I enjoy the VH dynamic, Folken intrigues me, and what the heck was Dryden doing for his five years abroad I mean how did he build his merchant empire-ish thing?” — URLs MUST be included, not just links. Links disappear as things are copied/pasted.

Can/should I message my recipient before the posting date? Can I post a teaser of some sort?

If you want, certainly! Remember though, it’s a secret! Don’t let your recipient know who you are or exactly what you’re making! If you’re having fun that’s the goal! (Example: Message your recipient as anonymous or Submit/send Rad or the ESS a teaser and she’ll post it, that way the original creator is temporarily disconnected from the teaser.)

What if I can’t post my gift on time or I have to duck out due to real life?

This is alright and totally understandable. There is a week’s time in which you can post your gift so don’t feel rushed. No one will look down on you because life happened. You have to take care of yourself first. Being a little late is obviously undesirable but understandable. If you’re going to be late or sadly must duck out please let Rad know asap. There are back-up gifters in place for this reason.

Deadlines and time zones

I try very hard to ignore timezone s. I live in Michigan, USA, so when I say a date/deadline I’m referring to my time zone of Eastern Standard. However, I try to allow twenty-four hours to go by before no longer accepting sign-ups or calling deadlines. If it’s the stated date in your timezone, you’re on time. :)

You sure link to your personal blog a lot… Just sayin’.

While I have notifications turned on for the ESS blog, Tumblr conspires against me and I don’t get the notifications. Notifications usually DO work for my personal blog. Therefore you’re more likely to get a faster response if you contact my personal blog. (Blame Tumblr.)

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The form must be emailed to icm.9302014 [@] gmail.com. This form is to indicate what you want to receive as a gift; NOT what you don’t want to gift to someone else.

.

1) Screenname: 2) Places on the internet with URLs**: 3) Likes: – Esca universe: – Genre/topics/etc: 4) Dislikes: – Esca universe: – Genre/topics/etc: 5) SFW, NSFW, or both? 6) Does #3 and/or #4 change in SFW vs NSFW exchange? Is something alright with you in one exchange but not alright with you in the other? 7) If needed, are you available as a back-up gifter?

**: Please copy/paste or type out the URL on the form. For example: (radicalrad-1986.tumblr.com). When Rad receives sign-ups and their information she copies and pastes them into a Word/GDrive document. Text links usually don’t/sometimes carry over and thus your locations are lost! (This is an example of a text link.)

——

EXAMPLE:

1) Screenname: Rad (variations apply) 2) Places on the internet with URLs: http://www.radical-rad1986.tumblr.com https://archiveofourown.org/users/rad http://www.deviantart.com/rad1986 http://www.deviantart.com/rad-destiny-arcs http://www.fanfiction.net/~rad

3) Likes: – Esca universe: If you know me at all you know that the Series is my only focus and Eries and the Astons and Dryden are my peeps. I’d LOVE to see more Marlene/Mahad! Love the girls x their men too. ^.^ I do love the Movie and if you want to do my gift in another universe, any universe, that’s totally fine. The usual/standard is also enjoyed but it’s nice to have a larger variety. I’d love to see more of minor characters or pairings. I can be tempted with rairpares if they’re not terribly OOC. :D I would super enjoy fanart of anything I’ve written too, iffn you feel like it. Fanart of anything I’ve written would be wonderful! (My Aston girls fic is in the reworks but the gist is the same.) – Genre/topic/etc: I don’t follow really in-depth things well (like murder/mystery or politics) but pretty much anything. While clearly there won’t be any long-haul in a Christmas gift I am all for the in-depth, long journey instead of the immediate dessert. 4) Dislikes: – Esca universe: Not a fan of Dornkirk. That’s pretty much it! – Genre/topics/etc: Whump, infidelity, gore/extreme violence, unnecessary/extreme ragging on a character/topic. 5) SFW, NSFW, or both? SFW 6) Does #4 and/or #5 change in SFW vs NSFW exchange? Is something alright with you in one exchange but not alright with you in the other? I’m not a fan of Dornkirk but in a NSFW gift his thought process could be explored and while I dislike detailed violence, test subjects could be shown with minor details. 7) If needed, are you available as a back-up gifter? Yup!

[gaylotusthatexists]

Flightless - Chapter Seven

Fandom: Sanders Sides 

Pairings: Eventual Moxiety, Platonic Prinxiety

Word Count: 2260

Notes: hey, i am so so sorry for the long wait for this chapter. life has been hectic with school and the month of december and exams and stuff, and also some other projects that i'm working on for y'all, but here is a chapter of flightless whilst i have the time (kinda) and motivation to write this. hopefully the next chapter shouldn't take too long haha. hope y'all enjoy :)

Tag List: @xx-fandom-potato-xx @trash-can-so-do-i @bunny222 @phantomofthesanderssides @everythings-coming-up-aces @unknownanonymousgirl @tinkslittlebelle @jani-bunny54 @noahlovescoffee @why-should-i-tell-youu2 @unicorndragon1-2-3 @ab-artist @journalanxiety @applecantbebothered @quietwords-loudthoughts @honeysucklingz

first | previous | next | ao3 

Virgil leant back, with his foot propped up against the wall. He knew that Logan hadn't gotten home yet, since he had already flown up himself to see. So instead, Virgil had decided to stay down in the lobby for a while until Logan returned, which shouldn't be too long, hopefully. At the very least, it was entertaining to watch people walk around the lobby. People watching had always been one of Virgil's favourite past times.

A man with wings almost identical to Virgil's walked up to the desk at the front. Huge, beautiful white wings - looking at the man, he could almost see the appeal to those kind of wings. And, looking a little closer, Virgil could swear he saw hints of red around the feathers. Interesting - perhaps that dye-offer that Talyn had given to him didn't sound that bad.

But the longer Virgil stared at the man, the more he realised that things were not going well.

"Look, I-"

"I'm telling you, it's not dangerous at all," the woman behind the desk said, sounding almost exasperated. "If you want, we can get somebody to escort you round?"

"I don't need escorting!" the man exclaimed. "I need another way to get up there!"

"Look, sir, there's nothing we can do."

"Surely there's something-"

The woman just shook her head. "I'm really sor-"

"Don't apologise to me! Just fix the goddamn problem!"

There was silence for a moment. Everybody else in the lobby had set their attention on the two. Virgil couldn't help but wonder what the problem had been in the first place.

"Sir, if you're not going to be cooperative, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave," the woman finally said.

The man just stared at her in disbelief. "All of my things are up there. All my equipment, clothing, everything. Can you not even move me to another room?"

"That was the only room available, we've told you-"

"Do you even know who I-"

"Sir," she snapped, "please leave the building."

Completely silence fell upon the room. It was as if the entire world had just paused, stopped at that moment, like it was going to end then and there. Virgil held his breath. Until the man turned and left, and everything went back to normal.

His phone buzzed in his hands - a message from Logan.

16:49 Logan: I've arrived at home.

Virgil glanced over at the stairs, and then out the door. He couldn't help but feel as if something was wrong. As if that man had needed help. As if Virgil needed to help him. Part of him just wanted to follow him out there and see if he was alright, if Virgil could help him. He had obviously had a problem, possibly something to do with flying, which Virgil knew all about. And the woman behind the desk hadn't attempted to help him in any way...

Then again, feeling as if something was wrong was just Virgil's constant state of being. Maybe the man would be fine and Virgil was just overreacting.

Unless...

16:52 Me: something happened down here, some dude got into some trouble or something, going to check if he is ok

Virgil put his phone back in his pocket and exited the building, looking around for any signs of that mysterious man. His phone buzzed again, but he ignored it, instead shooting up into the air and down the street. It didn't take him long to spot a familiar pair of white wings. The man had sat on a bench on the side of the street, his head in his hands.

"Hey," Virgil said, floating down to the floor. "You okay, dude?"

The man looked up and scowled. "What do you want? An autograph? Is it that hard to leave a guy alone?"

Virgil frowned, taken aback by his reaction. "Uh... I..." He cleared his throat. "I saw you back at the apartment block. Thought you, uh, might need some help, or something."

The man just stared at him. "So... you don't... you don't know who I am?"

Virgil blinked. "I've never seen you before today."

He let out a sigh. "You know, I've only come across one other person who hasn't recognised me."

"...okay?" Virgil looked him up and down - nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that sprung to mind. "What's your name?"

"Roman. And yours?"

"Virgil."

"Virgil," Roman repeated, smiling. "Hey, Virgil was the name of some Roman poet. Isn't that neat?"

Virgil blew a huff of air out his nose in what could loosely be described as a laugh. "Yeah, I guess that makes us basically soulmates."

Roman let out a hearty laugh. "Platonic soulmates, of course. Unfortunately, my heart belongs to another man."

"Oh really?" Virgil smirked. "And who might that be?"

Roman hesitated. "Well, uh, I'm not quite sure yet, but once I see him, I'll know."

Virgil sat down next to Roman, bringing his feet up onto the bench. "What, so you believe in love at first sight?"

"Of course." He smiled. "Why would you not?"

"I don't know. Maybe because love isn't that simple."

"Who said it was simple?"

"If you fall in love with someone after just meeting them, you're not in love." Virgil looked over at Roman. "You don't know the person well enough to understand your feelings. You have to... get to know them. Let it all happen naturally."

Roman hummed. "That sounds boring, though."

Virgil shrugged. "Can't argue with that. People are hard." He set his feet back down on the ground. "Anyway, I came here to see if you needed help."

Roman groaned. "Look, what happened back there was not my fault. I specifically told the management there that I needed a room with access from the stairs."

"Why? Surely with those amazing wings-"

"I'm not the best flyer," he interrupted, "and you'd better not tell anybody that." He sighed. "I just... What would they do if that exact same situation happened to a person without wings?"

"They'd probably kick that person out," Virgil said, without even thinking. "I mean, in my experience-" He caught himself before continuing, realising what he was about to say. "-from, uh, watching other people, the guys in that place are always giving wingless people dirty looks, and stuff. It sucks, y'know?"

"Ha, tell me about it." His eyes widened. "I-I mean, it does suck. Like, those people have done nothing to deserve that."

Virgil tried to shake away the feeling that Roman was hiding something, instead plastering a smile onto his face. "Glad we can agree. But, uh, we should probably tried to fix this problem of yours."

Roman took a deep breath in, and let a deep breath out. "How? I can't just walk back in there. And I can't explain it, either. If they- If they find out why I can't fly up there, my whole career could be ruined." He locked eyes with Virgil. "If anyone finds out that I'm-" he brought his voice down to a whisper- "not the best flyer, I'm basically dead."

"Okay, drama queen, we'll figure out a way to get you a room without letting out your biggest secret."

Virgil wondered for a moment why he was helping this stranger - having to get him up to the apartment without letting the secret get out seemed like a lot of work, which Virgil wasn't particularly keen on, and he still had no idea why it was so important that people don't know that this man couldn't fly well. Then again, when the two had first spoke Roman had seemed to act as if he was famous, or something. Like a lot of people knew who he was. And Virgil wouldn't have been surprised if his wings had something to do with the fame, since Roman cared so much about them. Whatever the case, he didn't want to let this man down, and Virgil had no idea why he felt that way.

Virgil took his phone out of his pocket, noticing that he had received a fair amount of messages from Logan.

16:53 Logan: What do you mean? What happened?

16:54 Logan: I just saw you leave the building. Please message me to let me know if you're okay.

17:05 Logan: It's been over ten minutes and you still haven't responded, are you okay?

17:06 Logan: Wait, I just heard that there was some problem with some singer down in the lobby, is that anything to do with what's happening?

Virgil glanced up at the time - 17:24. Logan hadn't sent him anymore texts.

Roman leant over Virgil's shoulder. "Who's that?"

Virgil jerked his phone away. "A friend. He lives in the apartment block that you were just in."

"A friend, huh?" He wiggles his eyebrows.

"Yes!" Virgil exclaimed. "A friend! Nothing more!"

Roman looked almost disappointed. "Well, if he's just a friend, why were you in the lobby?"

"I was waiting for him to get home. To visit him. Y'know, like friends do." He began to type out a response.

"And why are you texting him now when we should be figuring out how to get me into my apartment?"

Virgil pressed 'send'. "To see if he can help."

17:26 Virgil: hey lo. idk if it's that singer guy you were talking about but he needs helps. any chance i could bring him back to your apartment?

Roman skimmed through the message. "You think this guy can help?"

Virgil shrugged. "He's dedicated his entire life to helping people who, uh, 'aren't the best flyers', I guess. I'm sure he'd be more than happy to help."

His phone bleeped, signalling a reply from Logan.

17:27 Logan: I suppose I can see what I can do. Feel free to bring him up.

"And look at that, he said yes. Let's go." Virgil stood up and lifted himself into the air, beginning to make his way down the street. Roman looked up at him, helplessly.

"Hey, uh, Virgil?" he called. "Remember how I said that I 'wasn't the best flyer'? And how you said this guy 'helps out people who aren't the best flyers'?"

Virgil turned around. "Oh, right, uh..." He held out his hand. "Here, I'll help you."

Roman frowned. "You'll... what?"

"Take my hand and I'll help you fly up there."

"Why are we flying there?" he asked. "Can't we just walk?"

"I'd rather not risk walking into the lobby with you and getting kicked out again. We can reach my friend's apartment without walking through the building."

"But I can't fly."

"You can if you're holding my hand."

"What if you drop me? What if I'm too heavy?"

Virgil sighed, and landed on the pavement. "Look, I was the best flyer in class at school. I'm the best flyer in my family, in my friend group, even in my university class now. I'm training to do search and rescue in the airforce, which literally requires helping people who struggle to fly by helping them to fly to get out of danger, which is basically what I'm offering to do now. So-" he held out his hand- "do you trust me?"

Roman took in a deep breath, clearly still unsure, but took his hand anyway. "Okay. Off we go?"

Virgil smirked, and shot into the air, dragging Roman along behind them. They soon came high enough to feel the cool wind against their faces, to feel the breeze stroking through their hair, through their wings as they surged forward. Glancing over at Roman, Virgil noticed that he was smiling, laughing with glee. Maybe Roman had never experienced this before. Maybe he couldn't fly at all, and this was his first experience in the air. Virgil knew how special that could be.

"This is amazing!" Roman exclaimed. "Is this how it always feels? Why don't people talk about this more?"

"Most people take flying for granted," Virgil replied, slowing down a little to allow himself to navigate the city. "They forget how fantastic it can be. Which is why people who struggle with flying probably have it better - they never forget the feeling."

Roman hummed. "But people who can fly actually get to do this."

"True. But when those who can't always are finally able to, they find it to be the best feeling in the world." He looked back at Roman. "Speaking from personal experience."

Roman frowned. "I thought you said you were a good flyer? The best flyer, actually."

Virgil nodded. "Yeah. But also I have an issue that means sometimes I can't fly. I'm working on it, trust me, but on days like this when I can fly to my hearts content..." He smiled. "I can never forget how great it feels."

Why he was opening up to this complete stranger, Virgil didn't know. But what he did know was that he could trust this man, and if he wanted to help him, Roman would have to trust him as well. If that wasn't a good reason to tell Roman the truth, Virgil didn't know what was.

If he was able to open up to Roman so easily, then surely he could do the same to Patton. That was it - he had to tell Patton, tonight.

The two landed on Logan's balcony, Roman still smiling like crazy. But then when he stepped into the apartment and laid eyes on Logan, his smile faded.

"Logan? The guy from the theatre? Is- Is that you?"

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Prince Roman. Fancy seeing you here."

[popatochisssp]

Fur a Good Time, Call... 4/15

Series: Undertale, Horrortale Relationship(s): HT!Sans/Reader, HT!Papyrus & Reader, HT!Sans & HT!Papyrus Chapter Warnings: none

You work at an animal shelter. You love all your fuzzy buddies and can’t imagine a better job for yourself than looking after cats and dogs all day, even when the work is hard and often gross. What can you say? You’ve got a lot of love to give!

You’re just not quite sure yet how you feel about the new monster who’s been helping out these days, and this riddle wrapped up in an enigma is something you just can’t resist investigating…

AO3 Link

Bone Appétit

You’d always known your lack of etiquette-related knowledge was going to get you into trouble.

…alright, well, maybe not always, but you’d had a feeling that not knowing Proper Adulting Protocols might be a problem for you at some point and done absolutely nothing about it, so your current predicament was entirely your fault.

It had all started with Papyrus.

You had sent him a text shortly after your first meeting, asking after his availability to meet up—and he’d immediately called you back.

Unlike his brother, who was happy to text at all hours of the day and night, it turned out that Papyrus was more of a phone person who would always just rather talk.

To be fair, it was a lot easier for you to tell him all about the nice little park nearby that you knew about over the phone, and it had made for a pretty damn cinematic reunion spot for you and Buddy when you all finally made time to meet.

It made you smile to remember the way your dog friend had gone absolutely fucking nuts when he saw you for the first time in over a week, wiggling and whining and straining so hard against his harness to get to you that if it had been anyone but Papyrus holding his leash, you might’ve been worried.

You’d already pretty much known it, but you’d since confirmed the undeniable truth: Papyrus was a really cool guy!

Your little park hangouts started to become a regular thing and even considering you had a dog as a social buffer, the conversation between you came so naturally that you think becoming friends with this skeleton was an inevitability, with or without Buddy.

Papyrus was genuinely incredible at carrying a conversation. He filled awkward spaces like a professional and introduced new topics with ease when the old ones dried up; things you felt you’d always struggled to do yourself. He was also a beacon of cheer and optimism the likes of which you’d never met and it seemed like just being near him was enough to brighten your mood on a rotten day.

That may have been another family trait. Sans had a similar effect on you, only he didn’t even have to be in the room with you to do it. You doubt that from anyone else, a picture of a baked potato fallen on the carpet and the single word ‘dang��� texted at 1:47 AM could’ve brought you to literal tears of laughter like it did coming from Sans.

You: Oh no, that’s so sad!

PUNbelievable: [IMG-42]

You: OMG, you’re still eating it?! Pick the dust-bunny off, first!

PUNbelievable: can’t, it’s fiber.

You: No!!!

Among other things, Sans was a great catalyst for a lot of your chats with Papyrus—when topics of his schoolwork got too technical for you to follow, or the latest news in monster politics and what negotiations King Gerson was involved in ran thin, Sans was always a staple to fall back on.

If Sans loved to gush about his brother, then Papyrus loved to gossip about his in equal measure, something you took full and shameless advantage of.

PUNbelievable: hey, why’d you tell Papyrus about the garlic powder sweetener thing? i thought we were cool?

You: You think you can put garlic in your coffee, choke on the first sip, and then try to insist to me that it’s better that way and down the whole thing and I WOULDN’T tell your brother you did it?

You: Besides, he told me how you only started drinking ketchup as a gag and then got hooked, I felt like I owed him a funny story back.

PUNbelievable: oh my god, you’re ganging up on me. i feel so attacked right now.

PUNbelievable: [IMG-54] look, your son is heartbroken that you could be so evil.

You: What were you holding above your head to make Buddy do that face for you?

PUNbelievable: pizza.

You: Well did you give him any?

PUNbelievable: lil bit.

It was talking about Sans that had gotten you into this situation, though.

“You Go To The Same Place For Lunch Every Day?” Papyrus had asked, somewhat incredulous. “Wowie, It Must Be Quite The Restaurant!”

You had paused in the middle of pressing smooches to Buddy’s forehead, turning to the big lanky skeleton squished onto the park bench beside you. “Well, it’s cheap,” you admitted, “which is most of it, but Sans and I really like it so yeah, I guess it’s good!”

Papyrus was suddenly squinting at you from behind his glasses. “Wait. Sans Likes It? Oh No, It’s A Grease-Trap, Isn’t It?”

“Ehhh…” You couldn’t really find the words to deny it. None that weren’t outright lies, anyway.

“Oh My God, That’s Terrible!” Papyrus lamented, a hand pressed dramatically to his skull. “You Can’t Live On Grease! Well… You Can, But You Really Shouldn’t! Do You At Least Eat Actual Food For Dinner?”

You had snorted, ruffling Buddy’s fur. “Actual food as opposed to… what, fake food?”

“Yes!” Papyrus had thrown a toy for Buddy to fetch and your only hope of distraction had practically sprinted out of your hands after it. “Frozen Meals, Microwaved Stuff, Things You’d See In A Gas Station Convenience Store And Wonder If It’s Marked Down So Low Because It Expired Two Years Ago.”

“………” Papyrus had just described half of your kitchen and pantry. “Well…”

“Oh My God,” he’d sighed. “I Suppose I Should’ve Known If You’re Friends With My Brother, But If You’re My Friend, Too, You Can’t Eat Garbage AllThe Time! I Can’t Allow It!”

Your little traitor returned and you’d busied your hands playing tug-of-war with his toy. “I don’t have many other options,” you told Papyrus. “I’m no chef and I like to have something actually edible after work, so it’s kinda pre-made or nothing.”

Papyrus had looked thoughtful for a long moment, and then settled firmly on a conclusion.

“Then You’re Coming Over To Our House For Dinner,” he’d declared. “When Are You Free?”

And that was the story of how you’d ended up here, at a nearby drugstore at what felt like the last possible moment, trying to figure out whether you were going to buy something or not.

You were pretty sure that housewarming gifts were still a thing, but Sans and Papyrus hadn’t just moved into their house. Were you still supposed to bring something?

It was your first time formally seeing the place, and you were going to be a dinner guest, so that was probably enough to warrant a gift…? Right?

You knew a bottle of wine was usually the go-to for things like this, but then also, neither of your friends had struck you as big drinkers. The last thing you wanted was to give them something they’d put in a cupboard and never use, but that also crossed off the only thing you knew for sure was generally expected and accepted.

You’d been aimlessly wandering around the store for awhile now, much longer than you’d wanted to be here when the whole gift-thing had occurred to you. If you kept this up, the employees were probably going to think you were here to steal something.

Okay, come on, you’re making this too hard. Just… get something small, you decided. Something they’d like, the first thing you see, just do it!

Papyrus ended up being easy enough to choose for once you forced yourself to stop over-thinking. A fuzzy desk succulent in a cute little pot had jumped out at you right away and it now sat innocently in your basket while you did one more lap around the store, looking for something to join it.

It was proving a lot harder to turn off your brain and just pick something for Sans, though, which frustrated you to no end.

(It had surely nothing at all to do with your very small and totally negligible crush on the guy, and how you wanted to somehow impress him with a thoughtful gift that you carefully chose in ten minutes on the way over to his house.)

Sans is a simple guy, you reasoned with yourself. This should be easy, just think of what he likes!

Well, obviously, Sans liked food, but it seemed a little gauche to bring snacks to a homemade dinner.

He liked cats, but there wasn’t exactly a surplus of cat-related merchandise here. Besides, it felt a little like a betrayal to bring a cat-thing to the house where your dog-son, as Sans kept insisting, lived full-time.

God, what else does he like?!

You were near some office supplies now and sighed deeply. You were unlikely to find anything good over here unless Sans had some deep, abiding love for colorful paperclips that he never told you about.

You had almost completely turned away from the aisle when you saw the basket of paperweights.

As soon as you picked up one of the smooth stones and read the ‘motivational’ text on it, you knew.

“It’s perfect.”

The weight plopped into your basket and you happily hurried up to the front to pay for your items.

All you had to do now was get there on time, and you were golden.

-

You actually managed to be early! Stress really did fudge your perception of time, apparently.

Papyrus had given you great directions and you found the house without any trouble. It was a little small but in good repair and in the middle of what seemed to be a very nice neighborhood.

You’d been assured you’d know which house to go to as soon as you saw it, and with the cute string of fairy lights wrapped decoratively around the fence of just one abode you were pretty sure you were in the right place.

With your gifts in hand you go up to the door and knock, hoping you’re not too early and no one’s ready to answer the door.

You shouldn’t have worried, of course: ‘too early’ is an oxymoron for Papyrus who throws the door open and greets you with his usual enthusiasm right away.

“Welcome To Our Home!” he says, ushering you inside. “It’s Such A Pleasure To Have You Over!”

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” you agree. You’d seen more of the inside of this place than the outside, through pictures, but it was so much nicer to see it in person. Their house had such a warm, homey vibe to it that just didn’t come through in background glimpses on your phone.

A vibe that was totally disrupted when Papyrus very loudly announced to no one that you’d arrived.

Oh, maybe not no one. The pronouncement of your name had claws skittering distantly on some tile and much, much closer the snort of somebody just waking up.

Buddy burst into the room to wiggle excitedly at your feet just in time for a very sleepy-looking Sans to sit up and lean over the couch he’d been napping on and wave a little ‘hey.’

He might’ve almost looked cool doing it if his hoodie-string hadn’t found its way into his eye-socket sometime during his nap and he had to awkwardly fish it out right in front of you.

“Sweet dreams?” you couldn’t help but tease.

“nah, i don’t dream,” Sans said distractedly. He spotted the objects in your hands. “what’cha got there?”

“Oh, I brought gifts!”

“Oh My Goodness, How Courteous,” Papyrus exclaimed. “You Certainly Didn’t Have To Do That!”

“They’re small,” you promised. “It’s just a little ‘thank you’ for having me over!”

You held out the succulent to Papyrus, who gasped loudly.

“Oh, Very Little!” He took it from you and held it up to admire it. The plant in its tiny ceramic pot had fit in your palm, but Papyrus could hold it in just the tips of his long bony fingers. “It’s So Cute! And Thoughtful! Thank You, I Love It!”

“Don’t thank me yet, you haven’t seen Sans’ gift.”

You passed the paperweight over to a curious Sans, still hanging over the back of the couch.

He took one look at it and immediately dissolved into ugly, wheezing laughter that made you downright giddy with pride.

While he was losing his shit, he helpfully flipped it over to show his brother the writing on it.

‘NOTHING IS WRITTEN IN STONE’

“Nyeh-Heh-Heh, Oh No, That’s Great, Too!” Papyrus assured you. “I Love Irony!”

“it’s perfect, i’ll cherish it forever.”

You smiled…and then the sight of Sans holding the rock sparked an elusive memory in your head.

“Like you cherished Rocky?”

Sans had been lucky until now. Even once you’d started hanging out with Papyrus on the regular, you always seemed to forget to ask about the fabled ex-pet and cursed yourself at home later for letting it slip your mind again and again.

Not this time!

“Oh My God, I Should’ve Known That Would Come Up Sooner Or Later.”

You watched Papyrus kneel, fondly brushing over Buddy’s fur. “Listen,” he said to you, very seriously. “I Promise You, You Don’t Have To Worry About Our Dog’s Safety.”

“…” Wait, what? “I don’t?”

“Not At All! Buddy Is Being Very Well Taken Care Of Here, I Am In Charge Of His Mealtimes,” he told you with a pointed glare at his brother. “And Buddy Is Never Outside Without A Leash Or In-Yard Supervision, So There Is No Chance Of A Rocky Repeat!”

…oh my god.

“Oh, that’s…good to know,” you managed to get out. “Very comforting.”

“Good, I Strive To Be Comforting At All Times!” Papyrus stood, his attention back on his new little succulent. “Please Excuse Me For A Moment, I Need To Put This Where It Will Get The Best Light.”

And then Papyrus went off to squirrel his gift away, totally oblivious to the turmoil he’d just caused in your mind.

“…………Oh my god.”

Sans lost it again, practically cackling at you even as he pocketed his newest rock.

“Rocky was real?!”

“i told you he was,” Sans snickered, shaking his head. “you really gotta start trustin’ me more, jeez.”

Your mind was blown. Your world-view shaken.

Clearly, the only solution was to pet a dog.

You went around to the front side of the couch and plopped down on the floor where Buddy immediately swarmed over to you now that you were on his level.

“Hi, Buddy, good boy,” you cooed, letting him sniff and lick at your face. “At least you make sense.”

You may have gotten a little absorbed in scritching and snuggling because eventually Sans interrupted. “hey, i’m here, too, y’know.”

You spared him a sidelong glance. “What, you want a belly rub, too? Ear scratch?”

“sounds like a neat trick, wanna try it?”

He actually leaned down a little bit, tilting his head in invitation. You laughed but…what the hell, why not? If he was cool with it…

You reach up and give the unbroken side of his head a little scratch. You think this might be the first time you’ve actually touched him without cloth in the way and the texture of his skull is a lot smoother than you would’ve guessed; more polished and almost soft. Your nails don’t catch on any scrapes or divots at all and you wonder if all his bones feel the same way.

Which is… wow, a lot more suggestive-sounding than you intended it.

Feeling needlessly bashful about it, you pull your hand back. “How was that?”

Sans didn’t seem quite so affected. “for an ear scratch with no ears involved? it was great, a for effort.”

“Gee thanks,” you scoffed. “See if I go for the belly rub after a rousing motivational speech like that!”

There’s not much small-talk to make waiting for Papyrus to get back. You had both just seen each other at the shelter earlier in the day and not much has come up to talk about in the handful of hours you’ve been apart.

Sans does tell you that his brother has been looking forward to this dinner all week, though, and he thanks you for coming.

Unnecessary, as far as you’re concerned. “What, like I’m gonna turn down dinner at my three best friends’ place? Come on.”

And oh, look at that, you’d made Sans blush again. Stars, it was downright adorable the way he turned blue and pretended like he totally wasn’t, with that shy little, ‘eheheheheh’ of his.

He really had to quit doing that. It wasn’t exactly helping you forget about your crush that definitely wasn’t a big deal at all.

Papyrus saved you both with his return. He didn’t ask or even seem to notice anything unusual about the fact that you were on the floor with the dog, and you admired his ability to roll with the punches.

“There, All Settled! Now, As Much As I Admire And Appreciate Your Earliness, It Does Mean That Dinner Isn’t Quite Ready Yet…”

“That’s fine, I’m not in a hurry!” you assured.

“Well, That’s Good, Because Even If You Were, It Wouldn’t Cook Any Faster!”

“Is there anything I can do to help out?”

Papyrus seemed visibly startled. “Really? You Want To?”

You shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind. I’m not great in the kitchen but I do have an extra pair of hands, if they’d help. Besides,” you added, “I think I’d get antsy sitting around not helping while you did all the work!”

Papyrus clasped his hands over his chest and fixed you with a beaming smile. “I Knew There Was A Reason I Liked You!” he said. “Sans, Take Notes, This Is The Thing You Need To Practice.”

At the mere mention of doing something, Sans flopped back onto the couch. “yeah, okay, cool, i’m note-taking right now.”

Papyrus squinted at him. “You’re Going To Sleep Again.”

“nah, i’m takin’ the notes on my eyelids.”

“You Don’t Even Have Eyelids!”

A loud snore was Sans’ response.

You laughed even as Papyrus let out the most comically frustrated noise you’d ever heard.

You’d only hung out with these guys separately before and you don’t think anything could’ve prepared you for how hilarious they were together.

“Come on, Pap,” you chuckle, getting to your feet. “Leave him be, he did some stuff at work today. Let’s go check on dinner.”

Papyrus relents and you follow him into the kitchen, where it looks like he’s making pasta.

You’re a little relieved—that’s a pretty easy dish that even you can help with, so you ask him what he’d like for you to do.

Your job, he tells you, is to watch the noodles and stir occasionally until they’re ready. He’ll be busy throwing together the accompanying salad, apparently made up of veggies from his very own garden.

If he was trying to impress you, he’s absolutely succeeded.

You alternate between watching the noodles cook and watching Papyrus chop fresh greens. His cuts are swift and even with obvious skill behind them and you feel like this man could’ve easily become a professional chef.

“Sans said you don’t cook much these days,” you said. “I think I feel a little honored that you’re doing it now just so I didn’t go home and eat a frozen gas station burrito instead.”

“Ugh.” Papyrus paused mid-slice, looking to the ceiling as if begging for divine intervention. “I Knew, I Knew You Were Eating Crud Like That.” He pointed the knife in his hand at you, mock-threatening. “You Better Not Let Me Catch You With That Garbage!”

You raised your hand, a parody of scouts’ honor. “I solemnly swear, Papyrus, you will not catch me.”

He sighed. “That’s The Best I’m Going To Get, Hmm?” You playfully shrugged and he went back to chopping a cucumber. “Well, Fine. But Of Course I’m Going To Cook If You’re Coming Over To Visit! It’s A Very Important Step In Friendship-Building, You Know!”

“Is it?”

“The Most Important! I Used To Make Spaghetti All The Time Underground, Literal Oodles Of Noodles! My Friend Taught Me The Recipe And Our Cooking Lessons Were Wonderful Bonding Experiences!”

“Wow, that must’ve been some good spaghetti.”

“Oh, Not At All,” Papyrus told you. “It Was Terrible, She Didn’t Know The Recipe, Either. But We Had Fun Making It Anyway!”

You stifled a laugh. “Why’d you keep making it if you guys didn’t even know how?”

“Cooking Underground Was Much Harder Than It Is Up Here, With All Your Syndicated Food Shows On TV And Those Recipe Blogs On Your Human Internet,” he said, flapping his hand dismissively. “We Had A Cooking Program That Aired Sometimes, But It Was Pretty…Erm…Unique. Not Very Replicable In One’s Own Home. And We Had The Undernet, But It Was A Lot Better For Social Media Than Anything Else. Basically, If You Wanted To Learn How To Make Something, Your Best Bet Was To Know Someone Who Already Knew How To Make It And Have Them Teach You.”

“And if you didn’t?” you wondered.

“Trial And Error! And Lots Of It!” He grinned a little. “Honestly, It Was Mostly Error, But It Was Hard Finding People To Taste-Test And Give Useful Suggestions. All I Had Was Sans, And I’m Sure You Know By Now, He’s Disgusting. I’ve Seen Him Eat Mayonnaise With A Spoon, Directly Out Of The Jar. I Can’t Rely On Anything He Says As Useful Critique!”

“Garlic coffee,” you agreed, sadly shaking your head.

“Nyeh-Heh-Heh, Exactly! Please Don’t Worry About The Quality Of This Spaghetti,” he added as an afterthought, “I’ve Studied Plenty Of Actual Recipes By Now With Only The Highest Amount Of Stars Given In Reviews!”

“I wasn’t worried. I’m sure Master Chef Papyrus has something great cooking, literally.”

He laughed but you could tell he was flattered and patted yourself on the back for making him happy.

It seemed to you that the noodles were just about done and Papyrus came to take over the pot from you when you said as much, because he didn’t have any skin to potentially scald with hot water— unlike your poor fragile human self.

You watched him drain the noodles in a steady, practiced motion, admiring his general grace when he spoke again.

“Not That You Asked, But I Prefer Not To Keep Many Secrets From My Friends And… Well, We Are Friends, Aren’t We?”

“Definitely,” you agreed in a heartbeat.

Papyrus smiled. “Then Because You’re My Friend, I Don’t Mind Telling You That The Reason I Don’t Cook As Much As I Used To Is That I Have Some…” He paused a moment. “Well, The Word My Therapist Used Was ‘Trigger,’ Is That A Term That People Use Outside Of Therapy?”

You try to school your expression to something neutral at the sudden turn. “Yeah, it is.”

“Then I Have Some Triggers That Are Kitchen-Related, So It’s Usually Just Easier To Avoid The Situation As A Whole. For Mental Health Reasons!”

Your neutral expression fails, crumpling into a concerned frown. “Papyrus, I don’t want you risking your mental health for my sake.”

“I’m Not!” he cheerfully assures you. “It’s Only Certain Things In The Kitchen, And This Is All Very Safe. I’ve Never Had A Reaction Around Vegetables Or Pasta… Which Is Great Because I’m Not Sure I’d Know What To Do With Myself If I Couldn’t Prepare My Signature Dish For My Very Cool Friend!”

That’s a relief. “Alright, as long as you’re not putting yourself out.”

(You realize, of course, by process of elimination, that raw meat is probably the thing that triggers Papyrus. You don’t need to ask why and you don’t intend to.)

“It’s nice to know you’re looking out for your mental health,” you add, with genuine sincerity. “Do you and Sans see the same person?”

“Hmm?”

“For therapy,” you explain. “Sans doesn’t come in to the shelter every day. Is he your ride to the office on the other days? Or… are you his? I feel like you would be his, I can’t imagine him taking on that much responsibility.”

Papyrus is…suspiciously quiet, busying himself with food-plating and not meeting your eye.

You backtrack a little. “You don’t have to answer or anything, if it’s private. I totally get that, no hard feelings…”

“Mmm…Sans…” Papyrus says haltingly, “Doesn’t Go. To Therapy.”

“…Oh.”

That… wow, that really sits badly with you.

Sans is a grown skeleton. You know that, of course you do, and you especially know that you have no authority whatsoever to tell him what he should or shouldn’t do. If he’s not seeing a therapist, that’s his business and should be totally fine.

But…

You saw the news reports. When monsters had first surfaced. The pictures that came out… of the monsters who’d escaped and the desolate, horrific prison they’d escaped from…

There was no other way to put it: it was bad and everything humanity had seen of it had only been the aftermath. You couldn’t even begin to imagine the kind of grisly day-to-day these poor people had suffered through and you weren’t alone in knowing that—there was a reason health care had been the quickest thing humanity facilitated for monsters, physical and mental.

The fact that your very good friend lived through the Underground and isn’t getting any kind of counseling…

It doesn’t feel right. You really don’t like it.

At the same time though, you’re not sure how you’d even begin to express that thought. Anything you can think to say would come off as the worst kind of pushy; like you could possibly know best at something you really knew nothing about, or had any kind of right to dictate what he should do just because you were friends.

Instead, you decide to just…bite your tongue.

Papyrus is far too sharp for you, though. Without you having to say a word, he seemed to read every thought in your facial expression with a single glance.

“No, I Know, I Agree,” he told you. “I Would Love For Him To See A Therapist, Too. It’s Really Helped Me, It Would Be Nice If He Could…. But Also…He Has His Reasons For Not Going. I Thought He Was Just Being Stubborn, At First, But… His Reasons Are Actually Good Ones.” Papyrus grimaced a bit, looking at you beseechingly. “You Said I Didn’t Have To Answer If It Was Private. Would You Be Satisfied If I Told You The Reasons Why Are Private?”

“Of course,” you agree immediately. You don’t understand what a good reason could be, in a situation like this, but if it’s private, you know it’s not your place to understand.

Papyrus looked infinitely relieved by your answer. “Then The Reasons Are Private. But, Don’t Worry Too Much About Sans, He’s Almost As Tough As I Am! He Really Has Been A Lot Better Lately, Even Just On His Own. Besides,” he added with a conspiratory smirk. “We Know He Has At Least Two Very Cool People Looking Out For Him If He Ever Needs It!”

“That…really does make me feel better,” you admit, smiling a little despite yourself. “Thanks, Papyrus.”

Sans was doing okay, you assured yourself, and if he ever wasn’t, you’d be there to help. You and Papyrus both!

You share that pleasant moment of solidarity and then you’re moving on. The food has to get to the dinner table somehow and tall as he is, Papyrus only has two hands and you’d promised him an extra set.

It makes you audibly snort in surprise when on the way, Papyrus wakes Sans by kicking the edge of the couch and yelling, “Sans, You Lazybones, Wake Up! Your Friend Is Over For The Very First Time And You’re Going To Snore On The Couch All Night?”

“nah, I can snore at the table, too,” Sans mutters, rubbing his face and finally rolling off the cushions onto his feet. “i’m versatile like that.”

“You’re Impossible, Is What You Are, You Bipedal Snail!”

The bickering is almost jarring from how warm and concerned Papyrus had been about Sans just a few minutes ago, but the affection in both moments is obvious enough, if you know where to look for it.

Little brothers, you think with amusement.

Sans meets your eye on the way to the table and you get the sense that he’s having the same thought. You share a smile and he shrugs as if to say, ‘what’re you gonna do?’ before you all sit down for a delicious meal.

You almost lose your mind when Papyrus places a bowl of kibble at the fourth place setting and Buddy hops up into a chair like he’s done it a million times before, chowing down with the rest of you.

You want to take approximately ten thousand pictures of it, but Papyrus wasn’t kidding when he said he’d been studying recipes so you also really do not want to stop eating what is probably The Best Spaghetti You’ve Ever Had.

Dinner conversation is filled with effusive compliments to the chef from everyone. Or, you, at least. Sans is complimentary, but you’re not sure he has it in him to be effusive, and Buddy literally couldn’t speak.

He’d stared puppy-dog-eyes at everyone still eating and drooled a considerable puddle into his bowl after he finished his kibble, though, which was…sort of a compliment?

At some point, the topic of work had come up and Papyrus spoke a bit about his part-time job at the home improvement store. You learned that he was exceedingly coveted in the lumber department for his ability to just pick up giant boards and planks when it took several of his smaller human coworkers to accomplish the same task.

You also learned that one of said coworkers had mentioned she had negative vacation time allotted. “…And I Was Sure To Clarify If She Was Speaking Hyperbolically, But She Was Entirely Serious. Negative Time Off! I Feel Like That Shouldn’t Be Allowed, Don’t You?”

Taking off so many days that you owe your employer your time? “That doesn’t seem right,” you agree. “It feels kind of shady of your boss to allow that, but I don’t know. I can’t really imagine taking that much time off that I’d be in the red. The last time I took off was…ha, well, that week our manager forced me to take off, right before you started, Sans.”

You realized that somehow, that story had never come up when Sans looked at you with wide eye-sockets and a dawning grin. “wait, wait, hold up, she made you go on vacation? like she told you that you had to stay home for a week?” At your confirmation, he snickered. “oh my god, that’s the funniest thing i ever heard, that’s so you.”

You weren’t blind to the humor in the situation. You laugh at yourself a little along with him, but Papyrus interjects.

“I Would Never Take A Vacation!”

The conviction in his tone gives you pause. “Wait, really? Never?”

“Not For Any Reason!”

Sans chuckles. “you’re so intense, bro,” he said fondly. “it’s awesome.”

“…Well, now, I kinda want to make you go on vacation,” you admit.

You recognize the hypocrisy—you had certainly never really wanted to take time off when you had so much you felt you needed to do at work—but something about Papyrus’ firm stance just gave you the urge to be contrary.

Besides, it isn’t as if these skeletons don’t deserve a break or a trip or something. They’ve been up here for more than a year and haven’t gone anywhere else? That’s just a damn shame!

If you knew these guys at all, though, you knew you’d never get them going anywhere if you couldn’t convince Papyrus first. Sans was a homebody in the extreme and you’d need his brother on board to have any hope of dragging him somewhere out of his way.

“Isn’t there someplace you’d want to go?” you ask Papyrus. “Just to visit? Anywhere at all?”

“None Come To Mind!” Papyrus insists. “And I Certainly Wouldn’t Want To Request Time Off For It!”

You think you have your plan, at those words.

“You don’t work weekends, do you?”

Sans props his elbow on the table, looking casual but his hand is suddenly covering as much of his ever-widening smile as possible. He’s clearly already figured out where you’re going with this, and you’re grateful he’s sorta trying to shut up about it.

“No!” Papyrus answers, almost petulantly. “They Wouldn’t Let Me. And I Don’t Have Any Classes Either, Weekends Are The Worst! There’s Only So Many Weeds I Can Pull In The Garden Until There Aren’t Any More Weeds To Pull, And The Best Soap Operas Are Only During The Week, Which Is Prejudiced Somehow, I’m Sure!”

“I don’t work this weekend, either. We should do something. Y’know, for the sake of doing something instead of just laying around all weekend.”

Papyrus squints at you. You realize he’s also figured out what you’re up to.

“……Hmm, A Trap, Obviously. And Not Even A Very Clever One, I’m Afraid. You’re Clearly Trying To Trick Me Into Some Sort Of…Vacation-ry.”

“Is it really a vacation if you don’t take any leave for it, though?” you debate. “If you drove somewhere for a couple hours and then came back, you wouldn’t call that a vacation.”

“Alright, Definitional Nuance, Getting More Clever,” he concedes. “And Where Would This Hypothetical Not-A-Vacation Take Place?”

“Maybe that could be a surprise?”

You’ve never seen Papyrus look pissed before. “Ooh, Curses, I Love Surprises! Alright, Fine! You’ve Shanghaied Me, But Only If I Get To Drive!”

Fantastic, you hated driving distances. “Deal!”

-

Dinner ended and Papyrus went around collecting the dishes to wash—but this part he insists is the host’s duty and encourages you to sit with Sans and bask in the glow of a delightful dinner.

You can’t even make a sassy remark at that, it really was delicious. Instead, you plop yourself down onto the plush couch cushions right next to Sans.

“And Stars Above, Sans, Entertain Them!” Papyrus admonishes his brother. “You’re Technically A Host, Too, You Know!”

“yikes, that raises a whole host of problems”

You snicker.

“Oh My God, That Wasn’t Even Good! You’re Lucky They Like You!”

And with that way too accurate final statement that you hope nobody is thinking about as hard as you are, Papyrus was back off to the kitchen.

“Don’t listen to him,” you say to Sans, “I think you’re funny.”

“oh don’t let ‘im fool you, he does too,” Sans says, winking like he’s letting you in on a secret. “he just hates to give me an easy laugh. wants me to put more effort into my jokes instead of goin’ for the low-hanging fruit.”

“Sounds like he’s not berry grapeful for your zesty sense of humor.”

“it’s enough to make a guy meloncholy,” Sans agreed. “it’s the pits, actually, but I understand his raisining.”

You laugh and then a brilliant idea strikes you. You hurriedly whip out your phone and gesture for Sans to come closer so he can see your screen.

He watches over your shoulder as you pull up your contacts list and change ‘Papyrus’ to ‘PAPaya.’

Sans laughs, his deep baritone laugh that you can physically feel, especially when he’s sitting so close to you. It hits you anew how goddamn big he is when you realize that even though you’re sitting down on the same couch, the top of your head doesn’t even clear his shoulder.

“Is it ever weird for you?” you blurt, suddenly curious. Sans doesn’t answer, but his expression goes confused. You quickly add, “Being friends with me, I mean.”

That didn’t seem to clear anything up. “…because… you’re human?”

“No, no, the… the size difference. Is it weird?”

“oh. i dunno, i never thought about it before?” He scratches at his cheek a little, pondering the new concept. “i mean, most humans i met have been kinda small. i don’t think you’re that much different….”

You feel like he’s not giving the matter the appropriate amount of consideration. Driven by the need to prove your point, you wordlessly take his hand and flatten your palm against his.

(It’s definitely for size-comparison reasons. It has nothing to do with wanting to hold his hand.)

As soon as his big red eye-light falls on the sight of your hands pressed together, he snorts and starts laughing again. “oh my god, never mind, i take it all back, you’re teeny, what the fuck.”

“I am not, you’re just huge!”

You must not have said it very convincingly. “i can almost close my hand,” he giggled. “oh my god? this is hilarious.”

His fingers fold over yours a little bit and you definitely don’t spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about the way it feels. It seems like all the scrapes and nicks you were expecting on his skull are down here instead and the scratchy roughness is a fascinating texture against your skin. You’d love to explore it more, but friends didn’t really stroke each other’s hands just because, and you don’t want to be weird.

You pull your hand away. “Come on, don’t be a jerk about it!” you say, shoving away from him playfully.

“aww, okay, you’re right, i’m sorry.” He grabs your sleeve and tugs you back toward him. “c’mere, bring it in, apology-hug.”

You hug him.

It’s almost like being totally enveloped in him— he’s unfairly huge and his arms around you practically block out everything else, even when your own arms can’t even reach all the way around his broad-set rib cage. You do your best and find that his bones are hard against your body, which you’d expected, but not poking anywhere or really even uncomfortable, which you hadn’t.

He’s warm and he smells exactly like you’d have guessed he smelled, like ketchup and dryer sheets, but surprisingly, it isn’t gross. It’s…homey. Comfortable.

You’re a little startled by how much you like it and the thought makes you realize you don’t actually know how much time has passed since this hug started.

Has it been just a few seconds or more than a few seconds? He’d have nudged you away if it was too long, right?

Should…should you pull back first?

Is this awkward now?

Sans seems to answer all of your questions in one fell swoop…by setting his chin down on top of your head to emphasize how tiny you are.

Clearly his plan all along.

“Oh, you fucker, get off me!”

You wriggle out of the hug and he lets you go. One brief second of eye-contact is all it takes to set you both off.

The two of you are laughing like loons by the time Papyrus comes back from doing the dishes.

He proceeds to tell you all the proper hostly things— that it was a lovely evening, and they loved having you over, and you all must really do this again sometime, future Not-A-Vacations notwithstanding—and you know it’s about time for you to be heading out.

It’s getting late and it’s a weeknight, so you and Sans have work in the morning and Papyrus has an early class to attend, so you completely understand. Papyrus gives you a wonderfully large tupperware of leftover spaghetti to take home with you and walks you to the door with Buddy trailing after you.

You say your goodbyes to him, and to Papyrus, and you turn to Sans to do the same.

He cuts you off.

“hey,” he says, leaning casually against the wall like the coolest guy in school in every teen movie and staring down at you with lidded eyes. “can I come with?”

Oh boy. Wow.

As it turns out, you are not prepared for the things you feel when you’ve got your crush looming over you, asking to come home with you for the night.

“Uh….” You try your hardest to cover how flustered you suddenly feel and let your mouth fill the awkward space. “I, uh, I wasn’t really planning on doing anything else tonight? I was really just gonna go home and sleep, I feel like there are, heh, better times for a hangout?”

Sans laughs and for one terrifying moment, you thought it was at you. “nah, no, you’re right,” he says. “sorry, i literally just meant coming to your house, wasn’t plannin’ on staying more than a minute.”

Your confusion is apparent enough that he continues. “you’ve seen me take shortcuts, right?” he asks. “y’know, when i’m someplace and then i’m not, ‘cause i’m someplace else?”

Oh, yeah, that neat little trick. “Yeah, I’ve seen you do it a couple times.”

“well it only works if i been somewhere before. so if i tag along with you, you can leave your car at home next time an’ i can just drop you off.”

Right. Yes, obviously, that makes sense.

“Convenient,” you say out loud. “Sure, let’s go.”

-

The drive home isn’t nearly as awkward as you worried it would be.

It’s actually… very nice.

You don’t talk much because you’re feeling a lot of feelings that need some time to be processed, but it wasn’t like Sans was talking, either. The pleasant weather was holding strong and you had the windows down, so the skeleton in your passenger seat was leaning against the door and staring totally absorbed at the moon while the warm night air blew past his skull.

Even in mostly uninterrupted silence, you find that you just feel comfortable with Sans and that’s something you really like.

You get home almost too quickly and Sans asks if he can come inside, “just to see the place, real quick, you know me, last thing i wanna do is stand between you and sleep.”

You didn’t have time to clean up or anything before you left the house, so it’s not as neat as it could be, but you don’t feel particularly embarrassed. You’ve seen enough photos of the inside of Sans’ room to know there’s no comparison.

Your house is just your house, not very big or painfully small, not insanely messy or hyper-clean. You feel like it’s an accurate reflection of you: just average.

“Got what you needed?” you ask Sans. “Is this enough for you to…shortcut? Or whatever?”

He seems to consider it. “let’s find out,” he says. “what time do you leave in the morning?” You tell him. “cool, I’ll pop over tomorrow, you can give me a ride to work.”

That seems…so unnecessary for somebody who can literally teleport.

You almost tell him so but he shoots you a wink and shortcuts out right before your eyes.

You take a deep breath and huff it out in one long exhale.

After a minute, you go to put the leftover spaghetti in the fridge before you forget about it.

It would be a shame to let Papyrus’ cooking go to waste just because you were getting all tied up in knots over his unaccountably charming brother.

Prev Chapter | Next Chapter

[origamikungfuwrites]

Chapter 54 (AO3 Repost) & News Update, FF Net posts too!

~From Ch. 54, Available now on AO3 and FF Net: 

The vegetation moving all around the kodama stopped instantly.  Naraku tried to read the silence, but it was cut short before he had a moment to appraise it further: “How fitting that would be - secrets and names both hold power,” the spirit’s voice purred, and then it proposed. “I’ll hold your secret, while you hold my name, Naraku.” 

Link back to the the original tumblr post: Chapter 54 (FFN) is Up!

Dear readers, please note this is an exciting milestone too!  With this repost to AO3 of Chapter 54, we are now full circle to where I began announcing the original posts of chapters of Dying to Live on Tumblr.  

The reposting project has been a pretty big undertaking since I have been going through to clean up some editing issues with the reposting to AO3, so this feels like an accomplishment for me to make it to this point.  I am happy to share the improved chapter edits with the readers on Archive of Our Own though, so it’s definitely worth it!  (However, I still try to go back and clean up the FF Net posts when I have time too though.)

To save on the number of redundant posts or reblogging I would still have left to do though, I will probably condense the next few AO3 reposts and announce a few reposted chapters all at once.  

Meanwhile, I’m afraid I’ve been slow on getting newly published chapters on FF Net since back when May started.  Some new changes in life offline have caused some pretty big alterations to my weekly scheduling.  I’m working a few things out to find a more settled down time to write again, but while that’s going on, I figure I can take advantage of the fact that editing and reposting chapters can keep going even while I’m on the go so much.  

Thanks for understanding and being the best readers!   I’ll continue to hang out on Tumblr while things settle down, so you’ll still see me around 😉

[real-fakedoors]

under leaves so green - CHPT 15 - Miraculous Ladybug

After the Dupain-Cheng family purchases a flower shop around the block from the Agreste mansion, Chat Noir frequents the spot in search of company from the manager-but-not-really Marinette. Beneath the mask, Adrien starts to struggle with how cute she looks in that green apron. (AKA: the not-really flower shop AU where basically everything is the same, but Marinette is extra stressed by her job and Adrien tries to be supportive)

Cross-posted on AO3 and FF.net

Chapter 15: White Magnolias (Part 1)

In which, Marinette has some father-daughter time, basically everyone sneaks up on Adrien, and the most obvious person swears, twice. Additionally, we see Plagg and Tikki tempt fate, and Gabriel keep a secret.

With rays of light beaming across her forehead, Marinette groaned. Night was over, and the morning sky alone was cheerier than anything had right to be that early; she hadn’t even gotten out of bed, and yet Marinette was sure she was already beginning to wilt unders it sunny weight.

In an effort to force herself into better spirits, she knelt and opened the hatch on her window, and with it came a swift change of pressure. The room immediately felt ten-times lighter, no longer aching for rest, but opened to bird calls and idle cars - to Paris beyond.

Crawling through to the balcony, Marinette stretched and rubbed the corner of her eyes, wanting to take this time to appreciate the day. It was lovely enough to admire, and she found herself missing sleep less as Paris woke alongside her, pacing itself quietly against the morning dew that gathered on windshields and in parks.

“Good morning, Marinette,” Tikki greeted with a small yawn, stretching her arms and flying up to the balcony with her. “How did you sleep?”

Humming momentarily, Marinette gave her kwami an uneven smile. “Well enough.”

As it happened, Marinette slept very well... and somehow, not well at all. She blacked out for nearly six hours, and started up her day again without a wink of real rest. Dreamless, heavy, chronically empty sleep was all she had to tide her over, and the day was coming fast through the Eastern sky.

At a certain level of exhaustion, sleep wasn’t even refreshing; in some ways, it was almost just as tiresome as staying awake. To cease, knowing she had a large agenda with not enough to show for it, Marinette felt her very human needs to pace herself buckle under her will to keep going, to answer the call of responsibility wherever it bid her.

A bit cross over it, Marinette had promised Tikki, (and Adrien, and Alya, and her parents, for that matter,) that she’d take better care of herself. It was strange to focus inward rather than outward, but it was a habit she’d have to start practicing.

As if to prove her point, when Marinette raised a hand to shield the sun from her eyes, she winced. Her fingers tensed, pain licking her skin, radiating through the slice through her palm. It was a sharp, uncomfortable reminder of what could happen if she didn’t act more carefully.

Friday had passed in much the same fashion as Thursday. A memory now, the day had been a blur of movement, aching muscles, and copious sweating. Her friends arrived midday and they followed much of the same routine as the previous day - Marinette giving whoever was available a single task, with Max or Alya acting as coordinator depending on who was around. Though their progress began slowly, by the end of the day Friday, each person had established a rhythm; Juleka mastered her shears, Kim could set flowers with the same precision he had while swimming, and Max had established a even more organized system than she had before.

As an added bonus, Nino showed up for several hours, and it turned out that he was the prodigal son when it came to flower arrangements, his work just an extra boost of efficiency within an already well-oiled machine.

With her friends diligently working and keeping their voices to low murmurs, Marinette managed to keep the front of the store open without interruption, and she was able to oversee the demands of the day-to-day work without falling behind - tending to customers, watering her plants, adding fertilizer to her larger planters, sweeping the floors and wiping the windows… They were mundane tasks, all of the things she would do normally, but it was surprisingly restorative to just do simple, familiar work. No difficult brides, no overbearing coordinators, no funerals, no weddings. For one whole day, it was almost like tending to her own little garden, indulging in the best parts of work without shouldering so much responsibility.

Now, it was Saturday morning. The day of the party, and with it came a whole host of issues.

Tikki interrupted the thoughtful silence after several minutes, giggling at a pair of pooches on the ground growling at each other. “So, aren’t you excited, Marinette? It’s Saturday!”

Marinette repeated the word patiently. “Saturday… hmm, yes, I am excited. Mostly just to be done with this stupid order for Chloe, though.”

“Oh, right,” her kwami’s antenna drooped, voice turned to a sympathetic tone. “I am sorry we never got to go to the fabric store, and about the dress and the party… You’re a strong person, Marinette, and it shows in your work as Ladybug and in your job. You’ve given up so much to make others happy, and I’m really proud of you.”

The girl ducked her head, touched by her kwami’s sincerity. “Thanks, Tikki. I know that, but it is nice to hear it sometimes.”

Marinette released a contented sigh, and her arms fell from their comfortable spot on the balustrade. Tikki kept pace with her charge as she spun around, marching down the hatch to her bedroom as she began her day properly.

Collecting her wrinkled work clothes (as they had been tossed aside in the early hours of the morning without much care), Marinette paused in front of her full-length mirror. She approached it slowly, touching her cheekbones and brushing some hair from her eyes. The papery quality of her skin and the bags beneath her eyes seemed... less noticeable… Maybe? Maybe she was just getting used to them.

Marinette shook her head, not needing more distractions right now, and set herself to task of starting her morning routine. Though it was the weekend proper, she had to keep her focus on work; she dressed, ate and prepared herself quickly.

Just before heading downstairs, she checked her phone for the time, 7:54 AM, and discovered three new text messages.

+33635125 (5:50 AM):

Hey - knock knock! Guess who? It’s *not* your phone - that would make me a phone-y.

Marinette scrunched up her nose, knowing that horrible humor anywhere. Before even reading the next two messages, she immediately added his new number to his existing contact in her phone.

Adrien “Anything” Agreste (5:52 AM):

So you’re probably asleep - which is good, if you’re reading this before 7 AM go back to bed right this instant!

Adrien “Anything” Agreste (5:53 AM):

And now that you’re properly awake after 7 AM, first of all - good morning! Second, I’m sorry I won’t be able to come by in the morning to help you finish the orders - I think R&J, M&I and Max & Kim will still be coming. But I’ll have my phone all day, so if you need me… dont hesitate to text or call :)

“Well, what did he say?” Tikki poked Marinette’s cheek when she mouthed the words of his last message.

“...Hmm? Oh,” Marinette blinked. “Just, he got a new phone. He can’t come to the store today.”

Her kwami appeared visibly saddened by that news, her antenna falling by degrees.

“Hey, it’s okay.” The girl offered her red companion her open palms, putting on a sympathetic smile. “We might get to see him in the afternoon when we drop off the flowers. I’m not that bummed about it.”

Her kwami made a face momentarily, but eventually returned her charge’s smile. “Right… right, that’s true.”

Quickly thereafter, Marinette descended to the bakery with Tikki in her bag, and she was surprised to find her parents out of their usual Saturday morning routine. Typically, Papa was the one deep in dough and smeared with frosting, but he was wearing just a t-shirt and a regular pair of slacks, like he might when they went out for dinner. Her mother was the one working at the prep station, smiling wide as her daughter appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

“Good morning, Maman, Papa.” Marinette went with greedy fingers to her travel mug, thanking her parents for helping her prepare.

She gestured to her father’s attire. “What’s this? Did you need to pick something up before the morning rush?”

The man laughed with enthusiasm before planting a kiss on the top of his daughter’s head. “Don’t be silly! I’m going to the shop with you today.”

Marinette scratched her chin, unphased. Surely, she must have misheard him. “Come again?”

Nodding, her father flattened out his mustache. “I will be working the flower shop with you, and I will come with you to help get things ready for the reception. Are you ready to go?”

Appearing more a fish than a ladybug, Marinette looked between her parents, opening and closing her mouth a few times. Her processing power dropped to zero, just fully blank as her brain did a factory reset. It took almost thirty seconds for her to realize they were waiting for her to say something.

“Wait - what? Why? How?” Marinette blurted, shaking her head. “Saturday’s are your busiest days! I can handle the store myself, Papa. You really don’t need to worry yourself...”

The room, stifling from the heat of the oven, grew even more uncomfortable as her voice trailed off, her hands shaking with self-prescribed guilt.

“Of course you can handle the store, sweetheart,” her mother offered, keeping her focus on the piping bags she was currently filling. “But we’re also not just going to ask you to give up your plans with your friends for business’ sake. You’re our daughter first, not an employee. The last thing we want is this job making you miserable.”

“I’m not miserable!” Marinette protested immediately, head shooting up. “I love the shop - I love my job! There’s no way you could have accounted for Chloe.” She made no attempt to stop her lip from curling with distaste.

With a collecting sigh, Marinette tagged on, “It’s just... time. There’s never enough of it, but you guys shouldn’t make that your problem.”

Her parents were quiet for a moment, and eventually her father placed a tender hand atop her head, touseling her ebony hair. “I wouldn’t have let you agree to this order if I didn’t think you could do it, Marinette, but that doesn’t mean you have to work through it alone. Let ol’ Dad here show you a thing or two about crunch time.”

Marinette bit her lip, trying to force back her smile. Her Papa was sometimes just too much.

“Are you… are you really sure? Don’t do this for the sake of me going to that dumb party - I can’t go either way. Adrien and Alya and Nino all already know.” Marinette glanced between her mother and father with overcast eyes.

Wearing tempered looks of sympathy, they both nodded.

Her father gave her an encouraging smile. “That’s not the important part, dear. You can go if you want, or you can stay home - but you’ve been working so hard, and we’re so proud of you, the least we can do is try to offer you a bit of a break. If you don’t go out to the… uh, museum hopping, was it?”

The man paused and shared a glance with his wife. “Even if it’s not that, you still deserve to have some time to rest. So no arguing!”

Marinette frowned momentarily, feeling a pang in her heart of guilt, but her father’s big, silly grin and reassuring presence was infectious. With a firm hug, she squeezed his midsection as far as her arms could reach, and the man laughed.

“Now, let’s go. Have a good day, dear,” he stepped around the counter and gave his wife a quick kiss, and she waved them off through the front door.

By the time the pair started on their way to the flower shop, Marinette realized it would be her first time working alone there with her father (well, they were only “alone” if she wasn’t counting Tikki).

“Hey, Papa?” Marinette peered up at him when they paused at a crosswalk. He hummed, indicating his acknowledgment.

“Why did you decide to come today? I mean - beside wanting to help me and being proud of me, and blah blah blah.” She waved a hand around nonchalantly, and they both giggled. “I meant, why you? Usually Maman comes to the store. You know, she’s got uh… smaller fingers.”

As if to demonstrate her point, Marinette’s father lifted up one of his massive paws and held it up against her dainty, thin hand. He chuckled and scratched his chin.

“I thought it was obvious, sweetie. There’ll be a lot of hauling with all these big planters - roses, mostly, right?” He glanced at her side-long, and Marinette nodded. “While your mother is a better baker, florist, organizer and overall better person than I am, I’ve got the guns in the family!”

In the middle of the sidewalk, he struck a pose that demonstrated just that, attempting to force his muscles to pop or his stomach to look less… flabby.

Marinette peeled with laughter, though her father took it in stride. “It’s true! That’s how you’ve gotten those biceps there, my girl,” he squeezed her upper arm, and she drew it back with a little giggle. “It’s a Dupain family heirloom - you’re welcome!”

Snorting, she waved him off. They were almost at the store now, so Marinette recovered her keys and began to thumb through them for the right match.

“Well, thank you so much for the gift, Papa. Unfortunately, today, I’ll have to be repaying you in hard labor.”

“Oh sweetheart,” he boomed with laughter, holding open the door for her. “Don’t tell me about manual labor. I’ve been doing this since before you were born.”

Marinette watched her father step into the shop with a small smile.

“Wow, sweetie, the place looks great. You’re doing such a good job,” her father remarked, and she smiled proudly. The happiness within the airy greenhouse permeated the fresh waves of morning blooms, and Marinette quickly followed after him.

Parisians of every age, every walk of life, every temperament seemed to pour into the greenhouse that day, and Marinette had to turn back to the office more than a handful of times just to let out a few exhausted sighs before returning to her task. Each time, her father offered wistful smiles and some words of encouragement, but she made sure not to linger. There were only six arrangements left, but he wasn’t particularly skilled in this capacity, so she wanted to give him as much time as possible.

It would have been a beautiful day to see one of her regulars, to lighten the stone in her stomach by keeping after Bitty or debating the right color combination with Brielle, but the ebb and flow of work was mostly driven by random sales - bouquets and potted plants, for the most part. A few crowns, maybe three bags of mulch - all regular, domestic purchases. They weren’t the most interesting aspects of the flora spectrum, but still important cornerstones to the integrity of the business.

The hours passed too quickly, and before Marinette could do much but blink, it was noon, and she switched to commander-in-chief of the flower brigade. Her classmates arrived in pairs, and Max helped her to establish an assembly line of last minute touches, packing and loading the delivery van.

With the midday sun high above, Marinette glanced at her phone once she set down the final arrangement in the back of a very-packed but very-well-organized van.

“Thank you guys again, so, so much, for everything.” She wiped her brow of a fresh layer of sweat and wrestled with the apron round her neck as she turned to Alix, Kim, Rose, Juleka and Max. “I’ll have just enough time to get these to the hotel before the party begins.” She punctuated her sentence by slamming the back door of the van with decisive force.

Usually, Marinette coordinated deliveries, and sometimes tagged along to help with unloading and set-up, but this time the responsibility fell entirely to her. Their usual delivery service didn’t have any drivers available for the off-cycle time on a Saturday with such short notice, so she and her father rented one of their vans and planned on driving it themselves.

Her father appeared from the cabin of the truck, releasing a low chuckle. “Labor of love, my dear.” Tapping twice against the industrial-grade steel exterior of the van, the man appraised each one of her friends.

“Thank you kids, again, for everything. Marinette’s mother and I appreciate it, and we’re so lucky Marinette has so many people in her corner.”

He paused beside his daughter, placing a large but gentle hand on her shoulder. Marinette smiled up at him.

“No prob, Monsieur Dupain!” Kim shot him a finger gun, which her father promptly returned.

Max fixed his glasses, adding, “It wasn’t so bad as a team, we were able to divide the more taxing issues and it made for a simple and effective streamline process. I’m just glad we finished in time.”

“Always got my girl’s back,” Alix said with a simple shrug, half-way through putting her skates back on.

Juleka bowed her head slightly. “We know Marinette would do the same for us.”

“And it’s the least we could do for all she does for our class!” Rose finished for them, leaning against her girlfriend’s side with a tired-but-accomplished grin.

Collectively, the group all waved to the father-daughter duo, giving plentiful reassurances and wishes of good luck as Marinette buckled her seatbelt, thanking them out the window repeatedly as the van pulled away.

She swiped a quick hand across her lashes, feeling a bit emotional.

“You’ve really got some great friends, sweetheart,” her father said as they came up to Courtier St., glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

Marinette sighed happily. “Yes. I really do.”

The drive to the hotel was not a long one in terms of distance, but it was painfully slow. Twice, Marinette could have sworn pedestrians were walking faster than the van’s crawl, but she didn’t blame her father for being cautious. Nothing would be worse than getting in an accident or hitting a bump too hard with seventy orders of flowers, sitting just so in the back. Even imagining it sprouted anxious roots in her belly, so Marinette sought any source of distraction.

“Papa,” she kept her eyes forward when they came to a stop at a light. “I know you and Maman always… like to tease and joke about, um, Adrien. But what do you… you know, really think about him?”

The man turned thoughtful for a moment, humming a tune before he responded.

“Your mother only teases you so much because that’s what her parents did about me,” the man adjusted his weight. “That means she approves.”

“I didn’t ask what Maman thought,” Marinette replied with a small laugh. “I asked what you thought.”

Her father’s expression softened, though he was gripping the steering wheel with the same tensed fingers he would when delivering a wedding cake.

“That’s a hard thing for me to answer... you’re my little girl, Marinette. No one will ever be good enough, but…” Papa smiled her way, and Marinette was surprised to see some moisture well at the corners of his eyes. “It also doesn’t exactly matter what I think. The important thing is he’s kind to you, and treats you with respect. Does he do those things?”

The question was unexpected, but Marinette did not stutter. “Of course! Adrien’s… he’s always been respectful, of me and everyone he meets. I mean, it’s weird, he’s famous and rich, but you would never know it just by talking to him. Heck, he even treats Chloe with respect… that I don’t think she deserves…” her voice darkened as she tagged on the last part, but the pair met eyes with a little laugh. “But yes. Definitely.”

“Then that’s your answer,” her father said, grinning broadly as they turned into the loading dock of the hotel. “Your approval means far more than mine ever would.”

Marinette tried to think of something to say, taken aback by how sincere and sweet an interaction she just had with her father, but the man was already out the door gesturing to some staff members. Instead, she just looked after him, her heart feeling especially full.

“It sounds like your Dad really values your opinion,” Tikki chirped suddenly, causing Marinette to flinch. She had poked her head out of Marinette’s purse momentarily, blue eyes wide.

“I guess it does sound like that, doesn’t it?” The girl wore an easy smile, watching him laugh at some unheard joke between the men at the gates.

After a few minutes, her father returned and pulled the car into a sort of huge garage around the back of the building, opening to freight elevators and all sorts of high-rise palettes that must provide services to the hotel. Marinette recalled this place as the entrance Planificateur had taken her and Madam Cesaire through a few days earlier, and the memory brought a frown to her lips.

To herself, she whispered a vow. “I won’t let you down, Madam Pomeroy.”

As the promise wore with time, Marinette grew increasingly nervous that she wasn’t going to manage to keep it.

Seconds turned to minutes, and minutes much too quickly turned to hours. The place was a bustle of activity, men and women moving around while doing their best not to get in each other’s ways, dozens of vans and trucks parked around for other providers who were servicing the event.

She, her father, and a few spare hands around the loading dock took to unpacking the van and loading each arrangement onto a sort of wheelbarrow-meets-dolly apparatus. It was flat-bottomed and long, almost like a child’s red wagon, with a handle and edge to tip-up uneven parts of the floor. The hotel only had one of these contraptions to spare, as many other crews and teams of people had claimed others for their own needs.

Marinette took responsibility for the dolly, which turned out to be the least labor-intensive rol, though her motivation had nothing to do with fatigue. Rather, the dolly could only carry perhaps four or five of her arrangements at a time, and Marinette made it her primary focus to roll each set up to the lobby and make sure they were set-up properly; this was the key to Madam Pomeroy’s position’s security. Chloe, Marinette knew, couldn’t care less about time tables or proper bloom care - as long as they looked pretty, she should be fine.

Still, even with the reassurance of being the ‘hands-on’ figure at the event for placement and preparations, Marinette was still terribly worried. Murphy’s Law stuck to each wall, glaring at her from every corner, and her shoulders felt desperately tense as the day went on.

The first hour over, now three PM, and the truck was fully unloaded. Marinette had managed to dodge Chloe, catching only a glimpse or two of her in the lobby; Madam Pomeroy swiftly said hello, thanking Marinette until her breath was hoarse, and quickly sped off again.

The second hour passed, indicating four PM, and guests were beginning to arrive. Perhaps two-thirds of the order were stationed dutifully around the lobby. Marinette made a point to work from the entrance and then back towards the inner-sanctums of the hotel. That way, as the first wave of attendees arrived, they would not notice any decor out-of-place or missing as they entered the atrium. Thankfully, with the opening hour, the guests were mostly only press and nominal friends to the Bourgeois who hadn’t any reason to seek further than the very cusp of the hotel.

Three hours in, and Marinette was the very definition of haggard. She had soil smeared down one cheek - how it got there, she didn’t even know - and the cramps in her arms had cramps. Her back sore, shoulders tight, and thighs achy, she almost dropped the seventieth and final pot, a tall, almost statuesque curved piece filled with a tower of white magnolias. They rose like sentinels above the vase, alabaster and elegant against a wall at the top of the stairs.

Marinette sighed, panic settling in her stomach when she caught the vase at the last second, and carefully repositioned it. With the back of her arm, the girl swiped at some of the perspiration that kissed her brow.

Tikki’s head popped out of one of her apron pockets, and thankfully, no one was around.

“You’re finished! Great job, Marinette.”

“Thanks,” she whispered back with a smile, breathing a little heavily from hauling the vase up the stairs. “And we finished in time. Just in time.”

With a little giggle, her kwami nodded and disappeared back into the sanctuary of green fabric that, sometimes, felt more a noose than a bow around her collarbone.

Guests were beginning to arrive in earnest now, audacious gowns and modern suits, all tailored-to-perfection, making their entrances in bold colors, accompanied by sultry makeup and daring hairstyles.

Marinette allowed herself just one, one little human moment, to breathe, to enjoy the scene from above.

The sight was beautiful, filled by beautiful people, in a beautiful room. While the world they lived in was superficial, it was certainly vibrant. Truly, even for all the disdain Marinette held for Chloe, she couldn’t say the party wasn’t everything Alya and Adrien had made it out to be.

Le Grande Paris shimmered, from the polished marble floors to the twinkling golden lights above. Snappy jazz music, (a surprising choice in Marinette’s opinion,) created an oddly lively and comfortable atmosphere beneath it all, and there was no shortage of drink being distributed to each guest in lavish flutes, a bubbling microcosm to pair alongside the strange reality at the bottom of the staircase.

Marinette released a low chuckle of sympathy when the smooth cornet solo was interrupted by Chloe, demanding something shrill (and probably unreasonable) to Jean. Some guests attention was drawn in the direction of her classmate’s screeching, and Marinette decided her singular moment had ended as appropriately as possible - ruined by Chloe. She slipped down the stairs quickly and made for the exit.

She didn’t make it very far.

“Mari - Marinette, wait!”

The pocket that held Tikki bristled slightly, almost excited. Marinette, on the other hand, sported a frown - she knew that voice anywhere, but for once, she wasn’t terribly excited to hear it.

Adrien must have seen her in the crowd.

Marinette groaned, knowing she looked (and, physically, felt) like hell. There were more than a few well-dressed, well-groomed individuals eyeing her appearance with curled lips and angry brows; she clearly didn’t belong here, and especially not looking like this.

It was probably silly, she reckoned, but Marinette decidedly bolted and made a beeline towards the stairs, pretending not to have heard him. She decided to forgo the elevator at risk of being slowed down.

“Marinette! What are you doing?” Tikki whisper-shouted up at her, clearly unhappy to be jostled around violently in the girl’s apron. “Adrien was trying to talk to you!”

“I know that,” she snapped back in anguish. “And I look like a fallen souffle, so no thank you, not today!”

Leaping through the doorway to the basement level, Marinette felt an uncomfortable twinge of familiarity here once again. She’d been brought here under the guise of being a mindless working zombie a few days ago, forced to do a job she didn’t want, all because Chloe still hasn’t learned to be nicer to people even after all these years.

The irony was definitely not lost to her.

“Aha!” Adrien appeared behind her much faster than she would have expected, and Marinette almost shrieked when he grabbed her wrist. “Mari, I’m so glad I caught up with you!”

“A-ah! A-A-Adrien, I’m s-sorry. I j-just…” The girl’s mouth ran dry, and she fumbled with her words. It was like going back to square one, her mind turned blank, like accepting an umbrella from him with shaking hands in a rainstorm.

Sure enough, when she turned around, the world’s most angelic smile greeted her in spite of his slightly labored breathing. Any attempt to form coherent words died in her throat, and her eyes went wide as he stood a few inches away.

Just as handsome as ever, the boy’s golden hair was brushed to the side and his complexion a gentle rush of cream with an echo of warmth against his cheeks. His smile was maddening and adorable, just-the-right amount of lopsided without seeming malicious. Clearly decked out in Gabrielproduct, Adrien’s suit was dark and form-fitting, showing off his slim figure a little too well, if Marinette’s lingering eyes had anything to say about it. Beneath the ebony suit, he wore a simple dark gray button-up - not unlike the one he wore for their dinner with his father, though they were matched this time with a perfect pair of slacks and shoes that shined.

“W-wow,” Marinette breathed, barely audible. Her face felt incredibly warm. “You look… you look great.”

Adrien smiled and held the front of his jacket. “You think so? I’m just sorry I’m not wearing my favorite accessory.” His voice turned playful, and he leaned a little closer. “My pretty girlfriend, on my arm.”

Marinette snorted. “You’re very sweet, and very silly. You really shouldn’t be -- ”

She was interrupted when a staffer, presumably some sort of waiter, brushed past them to use the staircase. Biting her lip, Marinette looked down the hallway marked Loading Zone, and then back at his heartbreakingly beautiful smile.

“P-Papa is waiting for me, so... I should probably go,” Marinette managed, swiftly kissing his cheek and taking a step back. “Have fun at the party.”

She watched his lips thin and brow come together slightly; even while scowling, he still looked frustratingly gorgeous.

“If you’re sure you won’t join me...” Adrien’s voice was low, almost hypnotic and he stepped after her.

With his cologne in her lungs and his face only a few inches away, Marinette’s head felt heavy and her heart fluttery. Her lips parted slightly, greedily wanting to drink him in through all five senses, though she was sure she probably looked foolish with her mouth hanging open. She was practically gaping at him, a plea tumbling from her mouth as an exhale of air, of unformed words - please, kiss me.

If Adrien thought she looked dumb, he didn’t comment. In fact, neither of them said a word for several seconds, and he decided to unravel the peace by answering her request, carefully pressing his lips against hers.

Sweet like creme and supple as water, Marinette forgot about the party, and her Dad waiting outside, and the fact that she probably smelled like sweat, and about Chloe, museums, Paris and even her own name. For a few moments, she yielded everything she had, everything she was, to the dreamy kiss. It was softer than previous kisses, like she could have sworn her flowers had imbued him with that same silky quality that defined her most gentle petals. Too easy to bruise, but too delicious to resist, Marinette just held his face with her loam-stained hands and breathed out an offer of security, a quiet sort of fortitude; in that moment, she was an amaryllis stake, and he delicate green veins that she would never, ever disappoint.

As they leaned apart, Adrien sighed. It was the sound of utter contentment, and he placed a hand over his heart - the action nearly broke Marinette in the most beautiful sort of way.

“You take care, and I’ll see you soon,” he said, meeting her gaze. Marinette felt her eyes widen as she tried desperately the curves of his face, the pale pink of his lips, the focus of his stare.

“I’ll see you soon,” she repeated, eventually ducking her head. The moment was almost too intense, and she was suddenly feeling very short of breath.

By the time she stumbled back to the delivery van, Marinette had only recovered some small amount of feeling in her legs.

“There you are! Everything settled upstairs?” Her father greeted her with his usual booming gusto. Apparently, he had made fast friends with the staff. A group of men and women had gathered and were laughing over water bottles in the shade of the garage.

Marinette nodded slowly, finding her words with some difficulty. “Umm… yes. We should be good to go back to the shop. I couldn’t find Madam Pomeroy after the party began, so I’ll call her tomorrow or Monday about payment.”

Wearing a smile so huge it bristled his mustache, her father clapped his hands together. “Well! That’s all I needed to hear. Let’s head back.”

A small round of “aww’s” and “c’mon, stay awhile’s!” came from the servicemembers around them, and Marinette giggled at her father’s popularity.

He waved them off. “Sorry folks, duty calls. My girl here has worked herself to the bone this week, so we better head out.”

“Fair enough, fair enough,” said a young man with a dark ponytail, beaming. “But we’re going to hold you to that promise on the croissants, though! Mark my word!” Everyone else roared with laughter at some joke Marinette must have missed earlier.

They climbed into the cabin, and once the truck was moving, Marinette finally let herself relax.

“We did it, didn’t we?”

She had to say it outloud, hardly able to believe it herself. “Seventy orders in three days. We did it.”

“You did it,” her father said pointedly as they pulled onto the main drag. “You’re a natural planner, Marinette. I’m so proud of you.”

The color of fresh Spring blooms spread across her cheeks, and Marinette smiled at her lap.

“W-well, I had plenty of help. Alya, Adrien, you, everyone from school… I’m just amazed it all worked out. Just, like, wow. I feel a hundred times lighter!” She laughed, and it sounded a little bit like a maddened cackle, but it was the really just the melody of sweet relief. Tension melting away, replaced by bubbly euphoria, the sudden sense of freedom was almost as thrilling as swinging across the Parisian skyline or racing down the Seine with her yo-yo in hand.

“Me too,” her father said with a warm smile. “Actually, speaking of which, I’m pretty hungry after all that work. Why don’t you run into the bakery and grab us a few things to eat before we head back?”

“Yeah?” Marinette brightened, surprised and excited by the suggestion. Today was such a strange day, and the idea of going back to the store with her father for the remainder of the day, instead of being alone, lifted a huge weight from her already lightened shoulders.

“Sure! We’re about to pass it anyways.”

Marinette’s father pulled up to the curb and unlocked the door.

“What do you want?” She asked, unbuckling her seatbelt.

His blue eyes, much like her own, danced as he mulled it over. “Hmm… Surprise me!”

Nodding, she leapt from the van and headed towards the store - thankfully, it was empty of customers at the moment.

“Maman! It’s me!” Marinette called over the bell, and she heard a pleasant sound of surprise.

“Oh! Honey, come here.”

Marinette did as the woman bid, loosening her apron as she stepped through to the back of the bakery. Her mother was smiling and giggling to herself, which struck Marinette as odd.

“What’s going on? Papa and I just stopped to pick up lunch.”

The woman raised a brow. “Oh, did you?”

Her tone was unmistakable - Maman was up to something.

“Just tell me what you’re planning, please,” Marinette whined, hunching over to demonstrate exactly how done she was with today.

“Nothing’s going on. I just had a feeling you’d stop for lunch, so I made you some sandwiches. They’re upstairs.”

Marinette narrowed her eyes distrustfully. “Is that so?”

Her only answer came in the way of a clicking tongue, dismissing her as the woman turned to pull out some cookies from the oven.

Marching up the stairs, Marinette grumbled a bit to herself about annoying parents and persistent boys, opening the door that led into the actual domestic part of their building. She stepped through the kitchen and walked towards the fridge.

As she expected, she found a conspicuous sticky note on the door handle, but she didn’t recognize the script.

“Look upstairs…?” She mumbled out loud, feeling Tikki free herself of her pocket as she read the note.

Marinette rolled her eyes and climbed the stairs to her bedroom, musing to herself if her mother’s little game would be worth the ticket Papa would get for parking illegally for so long.

Poking her head through the ceiling, Marinette gazed around her room suspiciously.

Her hands flew to her lips, subduing a stunned gasp. Tikki watched her charge with a huge, knowing smile on her face.

Suspended on a hanger against the edge of her loft bed was the most lovely gown Marinette had ever seen. At first glance, it looked almost just like the purple dress she had been working on in her sketchbook, but upon closer examination there were a number of differences that only amplified the almost nymphic quality of the delicate fabric, soft beneath the muted light of her bedroom. A wreath of midnight, hydrangeas were sown into the off-the-shoulder bodice, dipping carefully to maintain a sweetheart neckline. All along the corset, more of the same textured, handcrafted petals swirled in the colors of the night sky, paling by degrees as the tulle skirt fell away from the hips, tumbling to the floor in gradient shades of an amaranthine dream. Along the top, two thin sleeves - almost reminiscent of garters - hung from the edge of the gown, extending out into a sheer organza, delicate and tapering to about halfway the length of one’s arm. At both ends, the hemming was disguised by more intricate hydrangea blossoms that were sweet and simple, much like the gossamer sleeves she had imagined as accents to the other dress in her sketchbook, dyed the same tones of indigo and fading to lavender with each stitch.

As if it would help, Marinette balled her hands into fists and rubbed her eyes, trying to dispel the workings of her imagination.

“Oh no,” she whispered when she reopened her eyes. “I guess this is it.”

A few inches away, her kwami seemed concerned. “What do you mean?”

Vision out of focus, Marinette looked vaguely towards her red companion. “I finally snapped. That’s what this is. I’m probably in the madhouse, right now. They probably took my miraculous away, and Adrien’s getting married to Chloe, and I’m totally making all of this up. Some sort of psychological break-down. At least my room’s the same in my fugue state...”

“Marinette!” Tikki chirped in alarm. “Don’t say that! This is real - really real! Look, there’s a note on the chaise!”

The words were slow to sink, an anchor too buoyant to be believed. Still, Marinette figured she had nothing else to lose now that she’s officially become unhinged, so she stumbled across her bedroom and grabbed the note.

It sat on top of her sketchbook.

Marinette,

I know you’ve said you’re not going to the party. That’s okay - seriously. That’s 100% absolutely okay. But, I didn’t want you not to go just because you didn’t have a dress to wear - if you want to stay home because you’re tired, or not interested, or for any other reason, that’s what you should do. The dress is yours either way, and if you don’t wear it tonight, then I’ll just be excited for the next opportunity to see you in it.

I’ll be at the hotel - hopefully I can get there early enough to catch you before you leave after you deliver the flowers… Just seeing you once before the night is over would be enough for me.

Love,

Adrien

Adrien scrunched his nose up when one of Chloe’s father’s colleagues struck up a conversation with him.

For one, he really didn’t care for politics as a topical issue for discussion, especially in the polite passing conversations that were expected of him at these sort of social functions. Sure, Adrien was almost of French voting age, and living a double life as an icon of the city - if not the country - it would be almost impossible for him not to have his opinions. But with his father’s money and his own subsequent fame, Adrien’s found that his personal take on political affairs carried more weight than he was frankly prepared or interested to deal with.

More offensive than politics, though - the man’s breath was terrible. Just, awful. He reeked of tobacco and some sort of alcohol - perhaps vodka? Whatever it was, it was terribly strong and almost made Adrien nauseous.  And this was coming from someone who had a pungent-cheese-loving-roommate that also happened to imbue him with magical powers and occasionally enforced his rebellious behaviors.

Nodding along politely, Adrien sipped his water and used the opportunity to think about more interesting things. He had made eye contact with Alya at one point, but lost her in the crowds after he followed Marinette downstairs.

Speaking of which…

Anxious, Adrien quickly glanced at his phone, offering a hum to counteract his visible apathy towards the conversation - Marinette hadn’t sent him any text messages. Surely, she was home by now.

Was she going to come after all?

Maybe the dress didn’t fit? The designers did their best without being able to measure her.

Maybe having them combine the dresses was a bad idea, maybe she was mad about him taking her sketchbook?

It’s not like he could exactly explain his way out of that one.

“Oh, sorry Marinette! It was my kwami’s idea. He’s actually a hopeless romantic, deep down. Right, by the way I have a kwami, his name is Plagg, and together we’re Chat Noir!”

As a matter of fact, the two halves of Chat Noir had a small argument about it when they last left the shop, starting with when the black troublemaker instructed Adrien to turn back. He found Marinette’s sketchbook placed conspicuously around the corner of the store, laying on the ground, and his kwami laid out some larcentic instructions for him to follow thereafter.

Probably against his better judgement, Adrien complied and brought the designs to some people on his father’s detail. They seemed a tiny bit annoyed to have been given such a complicated request with only a few days notice and no model to measure, but the team didn’t give Adrien too much trouble - just, he would owe them one, when the time came.

To make Marinette happy, he would have gladly owed everyone in Paris.

“... And that’s when I told her, no, that’s not Emmanuel Macaroon, it’s Macron! Silly Americans.”

The man laughed heartily before sipping from his drink, and Adrien gave an uncomfortable chuckle while scanning the crowds.

The room was a champagne supernova, from the literal bubbly drinks to the aesthetic of the party. Overcome with light, every surface shimmered, and even the air seemed to refract unusual, unnatural levels of beauty. From every glimpse of a photography flash, to waiter’s serving platters, to the glare of reflective makeup on the faces of caustically beautiful women, even to his own shoes, the room was bright. Blindingly bright. Toobright.

With another fifteen minutes of inane discussion, Adrien had basically scoped out the entire lobby. He spotted Chloe, running between Jean and her other staffers, Alya and Nino, whispering intimately by the side windows, his father, speaking seriously to an artist Adrien vaguely recognized, Macie and some other of the usual Gabriel models sticking close to the cameras, and dozens more faceless aristocrats.

No navy hair, no purple gown.

“And with a watch like this? I couldn’t believe it -” the man brandished his wrist, shining a Rolex in Adrien’s face. “The nerve of some scummy…”

“Excuse me,” Adrien cleared his throat, stepping around his unsolicited conversational partner. “I think I see someone I’ve been supposed to meet…”

With a quick flash of his model-smile, the blond made his expression apologetic and quickly walked to the windows along the wall, near the cafe.

“Hey, man!” Nino greeted, glancing over his shoulder when Adrien released an irritable exhale. Upon his approach, the disgruntled teen noted Nino had a hand on Alya’s hip, and they both looked a little dreamy. Stupidly happy.

Jealousy thumped in his chest a tiny bit, but he swallowed hard on the instinct.

“Hey guys! Alya, you look great,” Adrien greeted with a smile, and he meant it. She wore a flattering dress in a shade of gold not unlike her eyes, and it sat snugly over her curves. Nino winked at Adrien, nodding vigorously.

“Thanks, blondie,” she rolled her eyes towards Nino’s not-at-all subtle agreement. “You clean up pretty nicely, too.”

Adrien shot Nino a finger-gun, who shot him right back. “And of course, Nino, you’re the most handsome belle of the ball.”

“I was going to say the same about you, dude,” he feigned bashfulness, resting a hand over his cheek.

Alya cut in with a loud cough.

“BRO-cough-MANCE.”

The three laughed openly for a moment, and Adrien felt ten-times better already after abandoning the foul smelling jerk, though he expected to get a bit of a verbal lashing from his father afterwards. Surely, his perceived “rudeness” in walking away would prompt some sort of unnecessary drama in the whispers of the crowds, but talking with his friends eased Marinette’s absence by a few degrees.

“Something on your mind, dude?” Nino questioned after a moment, looking at him from above his glasses.

Adrien fidgeted a bit, ultimately burying his hands in his pockets. He felt Plagg roll over in his jacket.

“Eh, just, wondering if Marinette is okay… I saw her for a second, when she was done with the deliveries. But she had to go. I’m sure she’s fine, though! Nothing to really get upset over, heh.”

Knowingly, Alya smirked. “It’s okay to be a little worried about her, she’s your girlfriend. If anyone would understand, don’t you think it’d be us?”

He looked up and met both their gazes, relieved to find they were both absent of judgement. Indeed, Nino was giving him an uncharacteristically serious nod, a sympathetic brow raised high along his forehead.

“We’re worried about her too, you know? Working so hard all the time - she showed me her hand when I was there yesterday.” Nino paused, shivering for effect. “Yikes.”

“Yeah, but,” Alya crossed her arms and released a slow sigh. “I know Mari like the back of my hand, and I’m telling you, she would feel way worse if we just mope for her sake. She told me she isn’t coming, and that was final, so let’s at least try to have a good time.”

Adrien pursed his lips, unable to disagree. Marinette always burdened herself with unnecessary guilt, and feeling bad about it wouldn’t help anyone. But still, the only topic he could find interesting tonight was the one person who wasn’t there.

“When do you guys wanna head to the museums?” Nino offered after a pause, glancing at his watch. “It’s like, almost 6:00 now, and there’s a few places I for-sure want to hit up. I heard there’s supposed to be an impromptu show outside the Louvre around 11, and that’s where most of the food is supposed to be.”

“I’m ready to go whenever,” his girlfriend responded. “Mom said she’s going to be working all night so not to stick around unless we wanted to. Maybe 6:30?”

“That seems a little early, doesn’t it?” The blond suggested, trying to keep the strain of hope from his tone.

Alya gave Adrien a hard stare, eventually dragging her eyes to her purse, recovering her phone.

“Actually… yes… maybe that is a little early. There are, uh, rumors Ladybug and Chat Noir might show up to the party… I’d like to stick around and see if they’re true. Gotta do it for the blog!”

Confused, Nino looked down at the brunette, then up again to Adrien. “You didn’t mention anything like that before?”

“Oh, my mistake. I forgot we agreed that I would tell you absolutely everything. Cause a girl can’t have any of her own business.” Alya countered, raising a brow.

Nino had enough sense to know when to drop it, so he held up two hands in defense and chuckled uncomfortably. “Uh… heh… right. You do you, babe. We can leave whenever.”

Wearing a smirk, the girl titled her head to one side. “‘Whenever’ sound good to you, blondie?”

“I…” he blinked slowly, a little confused. “Sure. I’m not on any schedule… for once.”

Clapping her hands together, Alya’s voice returned to normal. “Alright. Then, for now, why don’t --”

“Adrien.”

Shooting to ramrod straight posture, the so-named teen flinched. The icy inflection, punctual and exacting use of syllables… it was a voice Adrien would have recognized anywhere.

Turning swiftly, he plastered on his most convincing smile.

“Hello, father.”

Void of emotion, his father’s face was carved from stone. “A word, please.”

Ah, crap.

“Sure. I’ll be back, guys,” Adrien half-waved to the couple, and they gave him some apologetic and encouraging hand movements as he was led away.

The pair made their way through the crowd easily, his father’s intimidating aura all but bending the bodies away from them. A few young women very clearly tried to step in Adrien’s path at first, so he made a pointed effort to stare at the back of his father’s well-combed hair instead, staying close enough that no one could “fall” between them.

They came to a stop at the bottom of the stairwell, occupying the space beside the bannister and a huge, immaculate arrangement of roses in a porcelain planter, accented by sepia ribbons.

Automatically, Adrien smiled. This was one he worked on himself with Juleka, as he remembered a few of the roses’ peculiar blossoms, some tiny swirling galaxy of ruby stars, twisting inwards with a sort of shyness that he would never have been able to identify a few weeks ago.

“Marinette prepared these,” he commented off-handedly.

Both men looked down into the overflowing, lovingly crafted arrangement quietly for a moment.

His father cleared his throat. “Speaking of which, I noticed Mlle. Dupain-Cheng is not in attendance tonight.”

“No, she might not come. Probably not.” Adrien made a face. “I don’t know.”

“Well, then that is a shame. It would have been a good opportunity to put those rumors to bed after your impromptu breakfast. An irresponsible choice, to dine outside, you know.”

The teen grimaced and looked away, watching the crowds instead of meeting his father’s piercing stare. “Yeah, I imagined it was sort of… irresponsible. Sorry, father. Sometimes I just... lose my head around her.”

His father didn’t respond at first, but when he did, Adrien was surprised to hear him laugh.

“You’re just like your mother.”

Adrien nearly choked on a sip of water, and the man just shook his head.

“Neither of you could reel it in, even to keep up appearances. Hopeless romantics, the both of you.”

Thumping against his chest, Adrien coughed a few times and stared at his father like he had just confessed to him that he was Hawk Moth. In return, the fashion icon only wore a small smirk and a thoughtful gaze, joining his son in his study of the crowds.

“As it happens, I did not come over here to ask about Mlle. Dupain-Cheng’s whereabouts, or to cause you an untimely choking death, son,” he paused, glancing sidelong at Adrien. The teen just gaped back. “I just finished speaking to one of the patrons for the Musée d’Orsay, and they mentioned their affinity for music; as it turns out, they know your piano tutor. An old friend.”

Adrien frowned thoughtfully. “Oh… that’s, um, nice?”

“That is not of consequence. Rather, I’d like for you to parlay with them for a little while; they’re a valued benefactress, and as it happens, a fan of the brand. Once I mentioned you were here, she requested to see you specifically.” His father’s tone did not leave it open to debate, and a no point had he phrased it like a request.

After Adrien did not respond for several seconds - he was still trying to appreciate his father’s anecdote about his mother - the man put a sturdy hand on his son’s shoulder and offered a thin smile. It was reminiscent of something like encouragement.

“I have every confidence in you, so no need to be nervous.”

“I… er, that’s…” The blond shook his head, trying to catch up. “No, it’s not nerves, exactly. I just wish I had… er, I was still trying to wait to see if Marinette was coming. You want me to go, like, right now?”

In lieu of an answer, Adrien gauged his father’s expression.

That’s a yes.

The teen scratched his cheek. “... Right, um, I can do that. Let me just take a second?” And he promptly downed the rest of his water, a little too cold and stinging as it chilled his throat.

His father nodded sternly and walked away, in the general direction of the piano. Probably to indicate where Adrien’s next move should be.

A slight nuzzle inside his front pocket garnered his attention, and Adrien held open the front of his jacket.

“Your dad is something else, isn’t he?” Plagg muttered, wearing a scowl.

Adrien licked his lips, and they already felt dry again.

“Yep,” he sighed, but tried for an exasperated smile. “But I’m sure it can’t be worse than that guy from earlier. I just… I’m not a huge fan of when my Dad does things like this. Did he even say the woman’s name?”

His kwami hummed for a moment (though it sounded suspiciously like a purr).

“Nope. You could always guess. I think the most popular names in France right now are Louise, and maybe Gabriel.” Plagg shrugged.

“You are almost impressively unhelpful, you know that, right?” Adrien remarked.

The black cat scoffed, but his tone was an octave or two lower than usual. “Geez, lighten up. You’re just upset because your little girlfriend isn’t here.”

There was a small edge to the kwami’s voice, and Adrien knew him well enough to know his tone. It was comforting to know that, in his own way, Plagg was actually attempting... sympathy.

“Maybe a little,” Adrien admitted. “But I’m sure I’m worrying over nothing. Let’s go find ourselves Loiuse-whats-her-name.”

“Don’t go falling in love with her,” Plagg tagged on.

Adrien rolled his eyes and stepped out of the slightly private corner he had occupied with his father, frowning in the direction of the grand piano. The very tips of his father’s pale hair could be made out above the crowds nearby.

Wracking his brain, the teen tried to recall some talking points that would make the next twenty minutes or so less painful. He’d gotten good at talking to strangers over the years, making pleasantries when necessary, but that didn’t mean he necessarily liked it.

Before passing through the last few meters of the crowd, Adrien swiftly checked his phone, hoping uselessly to see any sort of simple message.

On my way!

The dress was perfect. Thank you.

I’ll be there as soon as I can.

Nothing.

Adrien released a slow sigh and slipped the device back into his pocket, fixed his hair and readjusted his shoulders. Wearing a small smile, he stepped out of the tides of people into the small circle around the piano, eyes scanning for his father.

The man himself was easy enough to spot, but Adrien didn’t see any obvious “benefactress” waiting for him. A little inanely, he hoped that maybe it was an elaborate surprise and Marinette would be there, perched in pretty hues of purple, but there wasn’t anyone in particular - man or woman - looking back to meet his gaze.

“Well, well well. I thought that was you.”

Adrien winced, surprised to hear a wheezy voice sidle up beside him. It took him a moment of blinking and stepping away, fully appraising the woman, to realize who it was.

And his heart swelled happily in recognition.

“Madam Kleinstein!” Adrien exclaimed, loud enough that a few people looked. “I -- you? I had no idea!”

Chuckling, the woman winked up at him with a crinkly smile. Her tanned-skinned was covered by a dark, long skirt, colored like the sea at night. Her severely bent torso was draped in a woman’s blazer of the same hue, but the whole ensemble was surprisingly lively, accented by flashes of red from head to toe. Decked out in ruby patent-leather shoes and buttons of scarlet that down the front of her jacket, the old woman’s youthful energy was clearly reflected in her choice of dress. Topped perfectly by a dark pillbox hat teetering off one-side, with a gossamer mesh of red and black polka-dots that just skimmed her forehead, Adrien smiled at the reminder of their shared favorite superhero.

“I told you, it’s Cecelia. I don’t mind the reminder of my late in-laws - good riddance, I say. But please, for my own sake! I’m not old enough to be madam anything.” She teetered over to him and gripped his arm for ironic support, aged and wispy as she was.

Adrien laughed, his free hand moving to his forehead in disbelief. “I just - huh, wow! What a small world. I didn’t know you were…” Hesitating, he scowled around at the crowd, unsure of how exactly to label Madam Kleinstein’s surprising presence.

“Rich enough to rub elbows with this lot?” She suggested, making no attempt to keep her voice down. Adrien felt a bit embarrassed, but the woman was a whip and he knew there would be no culling her.

Instead, he opted to take his father’s advice to heart and walk her around the lobby.

“You could say that,” the blond offered with a sheepish grin as he led them back towards the front of the room. “Really, I’m just not used to meeting… people I know in ‘real-life’ in… this-life.”

He swept a hand across the room to demonstrate, and Madam nodded knowingly.

Patting his arm with one of her heavily-ringed fingers, she chuckled. “I thought you were Gabriel’s son when we met, so imagine my surprise when I find you working at Mo’s! Er, Marinette’s, that is.” She smiled thoughtfully for a moment, and they stopped at one of the many bushels of roses scattered around the room.

“Marinette prepared the flowers for the event,” Adrien commented as the woman leaned down to inhale their perfume.

Releasing a contented sigh, Madam Kleinstein plucked one of the many roses right out of the arrangement, taking it while they walked. “I assumed as much; no flowers in all of Paris ever bloom as well as her’s. Though I’m surprised she’s not here; I thought vendors were usually offered to attend most of these events.”

“Mmm…” Adrien frowned, unsure how to reply. He didn’t want to harm Marinette’s professional appearance by discussing their personal relationship with one of her clients, but he also didn’t want to lie to Madam Kleinstein. Part of him had a feeling she would see right through him anyways.

He answered slowly, matching their pace as they wandered the vast room. “She… well, she might be coming, but I’m not really sure. She worked herself too hard this week in preparation for this, I think, and might just want to take a break.”

Madam stopped a waitress and offered her the rose in exchange for some champagne. The service worker seemed confused but appreciative, and they were on their way again.

“Oh no, she’ll be here.”

They stopped walking.

“How do you know that?” Adrien asked, wide-eyed. “She’s got to be exhausted, it’s not like anyone would blame her for not coming.”

Madam threw her head back and laughed, squeezing his arm a bit to steady herself.

“Marinette is too much like Mo. And my husband, for that matter. They’re proud. If they have the chance to go above and beyond, they will. They always will.”

“That…” Adrien tilted his head to one-side. “That does sound like Mari, doesn’t it?”

The woman chuckled and shook her head, and they began walking again.

Madam had to crane her neck to look at him, short as she was. “Don’t be sour, Adrien. She’ll come.”

Pinking slightly, he just nodded and grinned, feeling a little silly. “Was it that obvious?”

“Oh yes, but it’s not your fault. Everyone is about as transparent as the stars at midnight when it comes to love.”

Adrien staggered slightly in their walk, surprised to hear her say the word. It’s not like he hadn’t thought about how impossibly in love with her he had fallen, but to hear someone verbalize it…

Ultimately unsure of how to respond, the teen settled on a stiff nod, continuing to stroll around the room. He felt somewhere between comforted, disconcerted, hopeful, and terrified.

After a few moments of silence, the pair slowed to a stop again before another arrangement, near the side of the room he had last seen Nino and Alya. This was one of the few that weren’t roses. Adrien didn’t know these by name, but they were pretty, tall white things with delicate petals.

Madam tapped her chin. “My Lucky Little Latanas are just lovely, by the way. I do appreciate a keen eye when it comes to my garden.”

“Oh.” Adrien blinked, looking between the array of petals and the tiny woman on his arm. “Of course. You could say it’s just a product of my good luck.”

Snickering, the woman nodded in approval and turned them around, looking instead out to the crowd.

“This isn’t my kind of party, you know,” she remarked. “I was hoping there’d be less photography and more… portraits, murals, art. The music isn’t half-bad, though.”

To prove the point, Madam eased her hold on Adrien’s arm and did the most comical rendition of “raising the roof” Adrien had ever seen in his entire life. Unashamed, he began to giggle, and the woman stopped to join him, grabbing her knees to support her own amusement.

“I know what you mean,” Adrien agreed as he regained his wits. “But for an artless party, it sure did draw a crowd.”

Madam Kleinstein smirked and raised a challenging, thin eyebrow into the creases of her forehead.

“Now that’s the right frame of mind!”

Adrien’s smile widened, half-covering his mouth to keep from laughing too loudly. “Well, you were right. No use being sour - I’m glad I Baroqueout of that mood.”

“Oh, child,” Madam cackled so hard she started to cough, and Adrien snatched some water for her from a passing waitress. She smiled and accepted, wiping her mouth. “That’s the good stuff. You should consider a career in comedy.”

The pair continued like that for sometime, slowly circling the room with a buoyant spirit about them - totally puerile compared to the otherwise imperious attitude to the room, but once the jokes were rolling, their infectious moods played off each other. Adrien wasn’t exactly competitive, but Madam Kleinstein was practically trying to out-pun him, and he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

They slowed after the second or third full sweep of the room, coming back to the piano where he first found the tiny Madam.

“Now, Adrien,” she frowned and lowered her voice for the first time all evening, and it struck Adrien as odd. He bent slightly to better hear her.

“Do you think you’d do this old woman a favor?”

“Anything for such a young beauty, Cecelia,” he replied with a wink, and her dark eyes rolled.

“Do you know much Debussy?”

“Debussy?” Adrien repeated, furrowing his brow. “Well, sure. Mostly his bigger compositions, so I’m not sure how much…”

Madam waved a hand to interrupt him. “That’s fine, that’s fine. Then you’ve got to know Clair de Lune?”

Scratching his chin, Adrien sat at the piano bench. “I think I know where this is going. Though I didn’t picture you as the type, Cecelia.”

The woman sat beside him on the end of the bench and smirked. “I’m a bit of a wild child, so Marinette’s said.”

“I wholeheartedly believe that,” he replied with a laugh, eyes befalling the keys.

A bit weary, Adrien began to play the opening notes softly, not wanting to distract from the overall ambiance of the reception. Only a few heads, nearest the piano, turned in their direction, so he continued the opening, the lightest droplets of melody tuning to life beneath his fingertips. Impressionist music, Debussy’s music was composed of tiny pieces, put together to make the whole.

Adrien did not notice, not really, as the familiar notes filled the air, imbued with purpose through his the keys at his hands or the pedals at his feet, but the room had grown nearly as quiet as Marinette’s greenhouse after a minute’s worth of playing. Party-goers seemed to halt breathing, and camera stopped shuttering. No heels clicked, and no chatter interrupted. Only, for a time, the sound of the chords and sighes of the melody, complexity developing in the second half.

Of any song Madam could have requested of him, Adrien was abundantly thankful it was one he knew so well; he still could not keep his mind from wandering, even as far as this night has taken him.

Marinette. Marinette. Marinette.

She was the 9/8th meter that drove the song, the pressure in his chest as the piano filled the quiet hall, and the breeze of confidence that let him command the attention of the entire room. She was the moon he had fallen in love with. Delicate, and yet, so clear, the notes were her midnight hair or the freckles, twinkling like stars along her nose. The brighter, bold sections was his breathing whenever she was inches away, and the soft recessions of sounds were the smile she wore whenever she waved him off.

There was no denying it, if there was any chance before. His pulse felt like the ocean tides, weaning under her influence, a beauty that had never been successfully captured by song, or painting, or words.

And so the song ended, only half as beautiful as she was.

After a pregnant pause, the room erupted into applause, thundering in what had been a peaceful reprieve from the material restrictions of the hotel lobby. For a moment, he had been at sea in the darkest hours of night, but now he was awake again, on the mainland, in the real world.

Madam Kleinstein beside him wiped a hand across her cheek. “It was Jules favorite. My husband,” she clarified. “Those white magnolias from earlier just, I don’t know, set me off.”

Wearing a careful smile, Adrien glanced over at the woman and patted one of her wrinkled hands. “It was a pleasure to play it.”

After some more clapping, the crowd finally receded to the same buzzing monotone it had established before he played the song, and the swingy band picked back up the burden of entertainment. Adrien felt strangely cathartic, like his stomach was churning from nerves but his heart had found some small peace.

Cat-hartic. He could practically hear Marinette’s voice in his head, joking with him the day this all started.

Standing from the bench slowly, Adrien was aware of dozens of eyes still looking his way, so he smiled politely around the room while helping Madam stand. She clutched his arm appreciatively, though Adrien hardly noticed - he was busy internally rearing up to hear his father’s voice any moment, quelling him for making such a scene.

“Um, Adrien?”

A soft chill passed by his ear, and the teen felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on-end.

That voice.

That sweet, caring, hesitant and imaginative voice.

He was saying her name before he even finished turning around.

“Marinette?”

And so she had come.

The dress had been stunning when the designers presented it to him; leave it to Marinette to create something so ephemeral and dreamy, so he had thought. Any expectations he had of how she might look wearing the dress, however, were completely devastated with a single glance.

Dark hair, pinned up elegantly to expose her shoulders and neck, the tresses were gathered into a low bun that rested above her shoulder blades. The darkness of the top of the dress clung to her creamy skin like night drags against the walls of a windowed room, subduing everything around her by degrees. A phenomenon of the prettiest kind, the gown became a cascade of skirt, lightening in its descent to the floor, and Adrien admired the way the fabric of the sleeves both hugged her upper-arms, only to float delicately away from her elbows. Most eye-catching of all, Adrien’s breath caught in his throat when he found her cautious smile, worn against pink, full cheeks.

“There she is!” Madam Kleinstein snapped him back to reality, and Marinette turned a few shades darker in recognition. “You’ve got yourself a real pretty girl, Adrien. She looks like she belongs in a museum with that dress. It’s a work of art.”

Marinette sighed, holding her forehead with one hand. “Madam, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a dozen times. Don’t encourage him.”

“N-no,” Adrien cleared his throat, barely managing to relieve the scratchy emptiness of his windpipe. “She’s right. You look… beyond perfect. Amazing. I can’t - just, wow.”

As if to prove his point, Marinette flustered at his compliment, looking straight at the floor and covering one cheek with a hand; Adrien could see it burning beneath her fingers.

He opened his mouth to say something, but he stopped when he felt an almost nervous twitching in his breast pocket. Annoyed, he lightly patted it to get Plagg to stop fidgeting.

“Um… Madam Klein -- I mean, Cecelia,” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck, surprised to realize he was sweating slightly. “Do you mind if I have a minute alone with Mari?”

“Of course,” she smiled at the girl, who looked up at the mention of her name. “But don’t run off without saying goodbye.”

Making sure she was steadied, Adrien released the old woman from his hold and stepped forward to Marinette, carefully placing a few fingers just beneath her jawline. Her skin was smoother than he could have imagined.

They were both quiet, and Adrien was just fine with that. He was absorbing her presence, reveling in her really, really being here. Madam Kleinstein had said she’d be coming, but he hadn’t been sure. Now, seeing her up close, it was like a hole had been filled that he hadn’t even realized had been manifesting in his chest. She had little sprigs of green and purple flowers laced delicately into her hair on both sides, winding together at the bun between her shoulders. Her blue eyes were wide and full, turned up slightly at the corners to accent the curve of her smiling lips. Truly, she looked more like something out of a mythology textbook, like a sylph of the night sky.

“You came,” he eventually offered, not really thinking.

With a tiny nod, Marinette agreed. “I did.”

“The dress - you - you look really great. Did I say that already? Like, really great. Really.”

She giggled and brought one of her hands to the one he had nestled along her neck, squeezing his fingers. “Y-you did. Thank you, for the dress - for everything, really. I know I caught you earlier, but… you look handsome, too. The best dressed in the room, definitely.”

“Are you kidding?” Adrien croaked, forcing some air into his lungs. “You stole that possibility the moment you walked in. Just, wow. I can’t believe I’m dating you.”

Marinette lowered her neck into her shoulders slightly, adorably demure as she avoided his gaze. “Don’t be silly. You’re the model and the famous one here. Speaking of which, a lot of people are, um… looking.”

Attention flickering above her head momentarily, Adrien found Marinette’s claim to be accurate. Whispers were buzzing around them, and many eyes swiftly looked away when he glanced around. To his surprise, he locked eyes with his father - one of the few people who didn’t look away. The man’s lips were pursed, but he rolled his eyes and smirked before turning away, shaking his head.

You’re just like your mother.

Adrien slipped one of his hands into Marinette’s as he returned his attention down to her, easily lacing their fingers together. “Let them look.”

Bowing her head, Marinette just nodded twice and let Adrien lead the way, and he noted her movements were a little more stiff than normal.

“Are you okay?” He whispered, lowering his voice to her ear.

She shivered, though the room was plenty warm.

“I-I-I’m fine,” Marinette said with a breathy little laugh. “I’m just… happy. Really happy.”

That did it - Adrien was sure his heart stopped beating.

“Oh!” The girl at his side exclaimed, kickstarting him back into a living, breathing human-being. A man was tailing them with a camera, though she pointedly tried to ignore him. “I see Alya and Nino, over there.”

Grinning at the photographer, entirely proud (if not a little bit smug), Adrien stopped her.

“Is it okay if we let them take a picture of us? Together, I mean.”

She blinked at him a few times, appearing utterly confused, and her head tilted.

“I… sure, yes. Yes!”

“Yes! Thank you!” The photography exclaimed, unashamed to have been so easily caught, and instead he rushed up to them and half-knelt to widen his shot.

Adrien didn’t have to force his expression for once, though it was probably wider and giddier than was suitable for his usual photos. Beside him, Marinette appeared radiant, her smile reaching her eyes.

“Chaaaaaaaa’boy!” A voice called above the party-goers, many of whom turned and appeared offended at the source of the sound.

Half a second later, Nino bowled through the crowds and slammed into Adrien’s back, achieving maximum bro-hug capacity. Sensing the moment over, the young camera man bowed his head in thanks and began to thumb through his camera, scurrying back into the crowds.

Alya sauntered after Adrien’s attacker, but she went to Marinette and held the girl at arm’s length.

“Holy shit,” she commented. “Girl, you look hot.”

Marinette’s skin turned scarlet, from where her bodice hugged her torso all the way up to her ears. “Alya! Language!”

“Seriously. This justifies swearing, you look fucking amazing. Where did you get this dress? Did you make this?” As she spoke, the reporter-to-be wrapped Marinette in a hug, just as Nino released him.

Adrien piped up, smiling towards the girls. “I usually don’t condone swearing either, but she’s right, Mari. I can’t say it enough - 你看起来很美.”

“No offense friends,” Nino added, sweeping up beside Alya and swiftly wrapping a hand around her waist, reclaiming her by his side - the usually mellow brunette was so surprised she actually let out a tiny gasp. “While I agree, ‘Nette, you look amazing and thank god you ended up coming after all, ya’ll can’t hold a candle to this.”

He proceeded to plant a kiss atop Alya’s head, not sparing a care in the world for any of the people around them.

It’s not like Adrien could blame him, now that he knew how it felt to be in Nino’s shoes; he’d kiss Marinette every second of every day if he could get away with it.

“Are we still waiting for ‘whenever’, blondie? I think we’re about ready to go. I don’t know how much more I can take of being in the same room as Chloe, even if the room’s this big,” Alya said darkly, looking around in case the so-called blonde was afoot.

“I can be ready in a second, I just have to let Father know, and tell Madam Kleinstein goodbye... and give my regards to Chloe, so…”

Marinette and Alya exchanged a glance, and Nino responded, “I’d be exhausted if I had to put up with half the stuff you do, man.”

“Eh,” Adrien shrugged. “I don’t mind. Mari, do you want to come with me?”

She looked at Alya as if requesting permission, and the brunette just chuckled and nodded. Swift as the wind, Marinette came up beside him and carefully took his arm, much like she had several nights ago when he visited as Chat Noir. It was an attachment of security - one of trust. Adrien never wanted to let her go.

They started their salutations with Chloe, as she was the easiest person to find. The girl was storming around in her heels, spending the entire evening on the warpath, and her gown was a massive, golden ensemble that took up enough room for two people. It reminded him vaguely of the infamous one dress from the dance scene in Beauty and the Beast, though by the looks of it, Chloe’s was tight enough to be suffocating.

When Adrien managed to catch her attention, he felt a bit sad to see how strained she appeared. In no stretch of the imagination could he guess that party-planning was a laissez-faire sort of commitment, given the insight he had from Marinette’s work… and that was only one aspect of the huge affair.

At least she smiled when he approached.

“Adrikins!” She leapt at him, throwing herself into one of her iconic, overbearing and ridiculous hugs. Still, Adrien hugged back, happy to hear a familiar pitch in her voice.

“Hi, Chlo’.”

Marinette cleared her throat quietly. “Hello, Chloe.”

The blonde scowled as she pulled back from Adrien, glancing to her side with a look of distaste. “Oh. Dupain-Cheng…” her lip curled momentarily, but she flickered a gaze towards Adrien. “... Hi.”

Adrien, sensing the tension, decided to be the one to steer the conversation. “Well, I just wanted to catch you for a second. I can see you’re super busy, but, the party is a huge success. You did a great job, and the whole place looks amazing.”

Frowning, Chloe pulled out her phone. “Ugh, thanks, but no thanks. Everything is a disaster - you wouldn’t believe the behind the scenes nightmare --”

“Adrien’s right, Chloe.” Marinette interrupted, sounding a little exasperated. “It’s actually really lovely. If there’s anything going wrong, you wouldn’t know it from the guest’s perspective. I’m happy I got to see it. You’re a very talented planner.”

Chloe looked as if she’d been smacked, eyes wide but pupils tiny, confusion creasing her forehead. After a beat, though, she whipped her hair around slightly and resumed her usual attitude.

“Well… whatever. You’re… you know, thanks, I guess. I’m glad you both liked it.”

Turning his attention to the girl by his side, Marinette wore a huge grin and her blue eyes sparkled under the chandeliers above. Adrien felt like he’d had three cups of coffee for how fast his heart was beating, and they quickly bid Chloe farewell and sought out the next individual on their list.

They didn’t have to look far, thankfully, because Madam Kleinstein found them.

“Gosh, you kids look cute together. Almost as cute as I did with my husband.” She remarked, shuffling towards them with another champagne flute in her hand. Though her irises were dark, they turned spirited and humorous whenever she smiled.

“Madam,” Marinette whined slightly. “Please. I may be here as Adrien’s guest, but I’m also on business.”

The woman waved Marinette off, shooting the blond a wink instead.

“What’s that saying - all fun and no play? You’ve done great work here,” Madam Kleinstein said with bright tone. “Now you can sit back and enjoy it!”

“Heh, well, about that,” Adrien commented, scratching his cheek. “We’re actually going out - to the museums and stuff. Like you said, these parties…”

Madam grimaced. “You don’t have to tell me twice. But if I can insert a small recommendation, be sure to stop by Musée d’Orsay at some point this evening. It’s one I’m particularly drawn to.”

“Well, then,” he replied with a knowing smile. “We’ll have to be sure to pencil it in.”

Marinette dropped his arm and threw her hands up. “That’s it - I’m leaving.”

“Such a temper! Color me sympathetic,” the old woman laughed, and Adrien couldn’t resist joining in. Sometimes, eliciting Marinette’s chagrin was too tempting, just to see how far she’d go before snapping back. It was one of the things he admired most about her; true to her convictions (misguided they may be when it came to humor), she took everything in stride and never truly harbored any anger. Indeed, she might not have a single unkind bone in her body.

“Ahh, but really, we should go find my father. We have some friends waiting for us,” Adrien said pointedly, garnering him an appreciative smile from Marinette that twisted his stomach into the most pleasant sorts of knots.

The tiny woman placed a hand on her cheek, studying the two seriously. “Sure, sure. Just be careful out there when it gets later. Maybe I’ll come by the shop sometime this week to get something for inside the house.”

“Of course,” Marinette said with a wistful tone, taking a step forward and gently holding one of the woman’s hands in both her own. “You take good care Madam. You can always call ahead if you want an appointment.”

Warmly, the two smiled at each other and said their goodbyes, and Adrien found Marinette’s bandaged hand a few moments later. He began to lead them towards the edge of the room as the volume of the music and pressing bodies began to increase incrementally, the space officially beginning to transition between refined reception and party proper.

“Thank goodness,” the dark-haired girl said quietly once they reached a tall column on the outskirts of the crowds. Curiously, he looked down at her with a brow raised, and Marinette held two hands in front of herself defensively.

“N-not that I’m unhappy to be here! J-just, you k-know, I’m no-not much of one for parties. You know?”

Winding a careful hand around her hip, Adrien pulled Marinette a little closer so he didn’t have to raise his voice over the din - surely, for no other reason than that.

“I was thinking the same thing. Just got to find my Dad and we can go” He stated, catching a sly glimpse of her in his periphery. With rosy cheeks and averted eyes, she was breathtaking, and it helped to bolster Adrien’s confidence to know he had that effect on her.

Absently, he pulled her in a little closer.

Marinette twisted her mouth in focus, glaring over the crowds on her tiptoes. “I don’t… hmm… oh! Is that him?”

Following her extended hand, he indeed spotted his father across the room by another fashion designer, one he had worked with on collaborations many times before.

“Yep, let’s go.” He directed them through the crowds, trying to stay close between jarring laughter and clinking glasses and weaving through rivers of wealth beneath the air of excess. In a word, the room was overstated, and stuffy and exaggerated by consequence, but Marinette didn’t seem to have any trouble. She dipped and dodged away from waiters in time with him, skimming over the marble tiles without crinkling a single corner of her dress. They stopped to take some more pictures, this time with a group of children dressed in what reminded him of flower girls and ring-bearer boys, almost like Marinette, and almost like him.

Giggling and holding hands with the kids, Marinette had a particularly difficult time parting with their unexpected friends, leaving them with a quick lecture on talking to strangers.

“I’m coming - just, hold on!” The girl swatted a hand at him, which he caught and held, stupidly pleased to catch her blushing. “T-that’s right, kids. We were happy to play with you, but just be careful! Not all adults are as nice as Monsieur Agreste here, so be sure you feel safe when you’re talking to people you don’t know.”

“Okay okay!” Most of them grumbled, giggling and gasping when Adrien took the chance to place a swift kiss on Marinette’s cheek, entirely embarrassing her in front of the group of children.  He felt pleasantly smug with the look she shot him.

“Don’t go yet,” another one of them whined, pulling on the hem of one of Marinette’s loose sleeves.

Carefully, she swiped some fringe from her own eyes and lowered herself to the little girl’s level (partially, Adrien assumed, so as not to tear her gown). “Sweetie, you’ve got lots of friends to play with here. We’ve got our own friends waiting for us. Just remember to be careful and play nice.” Marinette smiled and patted the girls dark brown ringlets.

Shyly, the child twisted away from Marinette, voice relcutant. “Ooo-kay… But you’ll come back and play later?”

“Maybe,” Adrien offered over Marinette’s shoulder, helping her to her feet and giving her a moment to smooth out the tulle of her skirt.

With some difficulty, the pair finally managed to part with all the kids, receiving lots of vigorous waving as they went.

“God, those kids were so cute,” Marinette said with a breathy sigh, reorienting herself.

Adrien took the chance to look around, and thankfully, his father was still absorbed in his earlier conversation. He set the path forward again, near the front of the room.

“They really were,” he agreed, squeezing her fingers. “You’re great with kids.”

He felt her arm move slightly, suggesting a shrug. “Babysitting. You learn to speak their language.”

Teasing, Adrien flashed her a grin. “So that’s French, some Chinese, flowers, and child - any other languages you know that I’m not aware of?”

“Klingon.”

Adrien was so surprised he stopped moving for a second. “Really?”

“Nope!” Marinette strode right past him, leaving him scrambling after her as she approached his father - rather boldly, if he were to judge.

Adrien caught the tail-end of his father’s conversation as he hurried after Marinette. She was standing a polite distance away with her hands behind her back.

“... And then this season’s line is -- oh, a moment, Marc.”

The men turned towards them, and Adrien gave the designer a friendly wave and smile.

“Adrien! Bonsoir! It’s been awhile.” Marc, a man a few years younger than father, strode forward and shook his hand very tightly.

Burying the instinct to wince, Adrien tried to return a friendly amount of pressure. “Yes, hello. Sorry if we’ve interrupted.”

“Not at all,” Marc insisted, attention turning to Marinette beside him. She appeared to be visibly shrinking under his gaze.

Placing a hand on her upper back, Adrien tried to be encouraging without becoming completely distracted by the feeling of her exposed skin, soft and warmth beneath his fingers.

“This is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, my girlfriend. We were actually planning to leave to see the museums in a few minutes,” Adrien turned his gaze to his father, wondering if the man picked up on the unasked question in his tone.

… If that’s okay?

“Well hello, mon belle fille. Are you one of Gabriel’s models?”

Adrien noticed his father’s brow flatten slightly, but Marinette responded before either had a chance to say something.

“Um, no. Just… I’m Adrien’s, uh, classmate. We met… at class.”

“I see,” Marc answered with a little smirk. “And that’s a lovely gown, I should add. Who is it?”

“...Who?” She repeated, blinking. Clearly, she’d never been asked such a question before, and Adrien frowned as her discomfort became more and more evident

He cleared his throat. “Actually, Marinette designed this herself. She wants to work in fashion someday.”

Marc stood back, surprised, and looked towards his father. “Really? This isn’t one of yours?”

“No. Mlle. Dupain-Cheng is extremely talented, especially for her age.” As ever, Adrien’s father’s tone rang with finality, and the man could only nod.

“Now, Marc, as I’ve already asked once, could I have a moment with my son and Mlle. Dupain-Cheng?”

“Oh, oh yes - my apologies. Take care, Adrien, mon belle.” The man waved them off, attention automatically being dragged to another person-of-importance just around the corner.

“My apologies, Marinette,” his father said, eyes narrow. “Marc is an old colleague with a good eye for the trends, and a terrible capacity for etiquette. I hope he did not offend you.”

His father bowed his head slightly as a show of respect and it was hard to know which of them was more shocked.

“Now,” his father stood upright again, voice a gunshot over the din of the idle party. “You were saying something, Adrien?”

Adrien blinked, forgetting himself, and shook his head. “R-right! Sorry, um, that was… weird. Anyways… Marinette and I are going to go out and see the museums with Alya and Nino. Is it alright if we leave the reception now?”

Beside him, he noted Marinette looking at their shoes, black tresses turned up to face the ceiling. Even just the glimpse of her face, though, showed that she was wearing a huge smile, and, wow, Adrien realized his heart was positively hammering in his chest. When did that happen?

Adrien’s father glanced at his watch, than up again at his son, who tried his best to look neutral, if not a little sensitive.

“Naturally, I would prefer if you stayed a little longer,” he sighed. “But I can see you’re both anxious to leave. Your bodyguard will be with you two and your friends all night - given the circumstances, I feel that’s only fair.”

“Yes,” Adrien said immediately, hardly caring. He was gripping to his good luck and intended to let it ride.

“I’ll have Nathalie communicate with him to keep… some distance, so you’re not uncomfortable. But I’d feel much better knowing he’s with you - let’s say, at minimum, one room away?”

Marinette looked up and nodded vigorously. “Yes! I’d feel better that way, too.”

His father looked amused. “I’m glad we’re all in agreement. Then, this is adieu for the evening. Thank you, Marinette, for agreeing to come tonight, even if it was brief. And, Adrien, be sure to have her home for her curfew. Keep your phone on at all times… and don’t lose it this time, if you don’t mind.”

With a hint of red tinting his cheeks, Adrien heard Marinette tried to stifle a giggle beside him.

“Yup, noted, and noted.” Eager to go, Adrien extended his arm for the girl at his side. “Shall we?”

“Oh - yes, sure. Thank you, Monsieur Agreste. Have a nice evening.” Marinette smiled and bowed her head politely, and his father offered them a nod before walking the other direction.

Adrien was quick to lead them away after that - away from the people and pageantry, thankful they were already near to the front of the building. Marinette had consigned her purse, so Adrien waited at the exit patiently, and he could already see Alya and Nino outside by the car. They were giggling and pointing at Alya’s phone, by the looks of it.

A little nudge against his chest grabbed Adrien’s attention.

Quickly and without looking down, he tried for his best sort of “ventriloquist” answer - that is, without moving his lips.

“What’s up?”

Plagg’s answer was louder than he expected.

“I’m thinking this is where I’ll duck out! Course, I’ll stay near, blah blah, keep and eye out, blah akumas. We’ve basically got this down to a science, right?”

“Err…” Adrien felt his forehead dip, but was determined not to look down. “I guess that’s okay. But seriously, if I need to transform, you have to be around. Okay?”

The cat grumbled something unintelligible before construing a proper response. “Sure, sure.”

Adrien offered a roll of his eyes and closed his jacket as Marinette approached. As she neared, the bow of her lips curved  into a simple, gentle smile.

“Ready to go have fun?”

Adrien wanted so badly to kiss her. So, so badly.

Instead, he choked out an answer and turned to the doors. “Yes.”

Bonus Scene (1):

Thursday afternoon, approx. 5:30 PM

Tikki frowned, watching Marinette’s classmates hard at work from inside the greenhouse. “Come on, please, Plagg?”

The cat’s head was in her lap, and she was patting behind his ears.

“Hmm…?”

“Were you even listening?” The red kwami asked, now annoyed. She continued to scratch though, and she had to admit the tiny purr rumbling in his chest was sort of… cute.

“Yes.” He opened one green eye, looking up at her. “You asked if I could rope Adrien into a silly plan to steal his girlfriend’s sketchbook, try to convince him to convince other people to magick up some dress for her, all for a party she might not go to, and my kid’s insisted it’s okay if she can’t go. Did I miss anything?”

Pursing her lips, Tikki looked outside after Marinette again, watching her lean over Juleka’s shoulder attentively.

“Just the part where you’re a real jerk sometimes,” she muttered in a low tone.

“C’mon, Tikki,” he said, sitting up and turning to face her. Today, their place of hiding had been the creepy crawly vines that hung above Marinette’s desk. “I’m just being realistic. Imagine - me! Realistic.”

Instead of meeting his green gaze, knowing that he was right, Tikki just bowed her head and picked at a fallen leaf. “I just want her to have this. This one night, Plagg. Doesn’t she deserve that?”

The black cat did not respond for several seconds, not until Tikki finally looked up at him with wide eyes. She was certain she looked terrible, worried and exhausted as she was for her charge. If Marinette wasn’t well rested, neither was she, and it was starting to fray her usually solid nerves. Slicing open her hand had been the straw that broke the kwami’s back.

“It’s not that she does or doesn’t, Tikki. But that’s not our job. You said so yourself - we maintain a balance, right? We can’t mess with fate like that. She’s not supposed to go.”

“Balance…” the kwami repeated, finally sighing and resting her head in her tiny paws. “You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry. I just feel so bad for her - especially after that akuma. Marinette just needs a break. So much for my good luck, right?”

She glanced up from her palms with a wry smile, and an unsettling grimace stared back at her.

“What?” Tikki leaned back slightly.

“Yes, we can’t go… intervening in fate. That would be bad.” Plagg spoke slowly, nodding his head. He tapped a paw on his knee, legs crossed. “Our chosens have to manage themselves.”

“Thank you, Plagg, I got it,” she snapped at him, only feeling more guilty when he flinched. “S-Sorry. This isn’t your fault.”

“It’s not,” he agreed. “But it could be.”

Now it was Tikki’s turn to grimace, turning her gaze over the ledge of the hanging planter again. Adrien was laughing along to something Kim or Rose just said, and Marinette looked chagrined but… happy.

“What good could possibly come of that?” She eventually asked, not liking the mischievous look spreading on his face.

“Well, if things were to be thrown off balance by one of us - say, Adrien happens to find your girl’s sketchbook in the alley and being gently encouraged to go along with this plan… Well, to maintain the rightful order of the universe, you’d have to act, take something away her subtly, to equalize his gain.”

Tikki blinked a few times, sure she wasn’t hearing what he was suggesting. “You mean - intentionally disturbing the roles of the universe, for our gain? Plagg, that’s the worst idea you’ve ever had!”

In a totally predictable fashion, the black cat’s smile just widened and he shrugged. “What’s the fun in keeping order for thousands of years if we - if they - don’t occasionally get something out of it? You better figure out something to keep from her, because I’ve already made up my mind. Now you’ve got to keep me in check, or this is on you.”

“P-Plagg!” She exclaimed, feeling her face warm a bit from the smug look he was giving her. “That’s… that’s underhanded! You can’t force me to…”

“Do you want to risk fate?” He wagered, whiskers bristling in amusement. “Because it’s fate now that she goes, unless you’re going to stop her.”

“I -- that’s… ugh!” Tikki dropped her face into her hands again, but this time, it was to hide her smile. “You’re unbelievable…”

“I know, I’m great. Adrien says that exact same thing all the time.”

Raising her head to chastise him for being, well, himself, Tikki was surprised to be wrapped into a soft, gentle hug.

Plagg snuggled into her shoulder, squeezing her tiny frame close.

“Marinette’s not the only one who deserves a break. Let me do this for you.”

Surely, the warmth from her cheeks must have been burning Plagg’s fur, but Tikki let herself smile anyways. She yielded to his suggestion, squishing her cheek against his shoulder and hugging him back, tightly, happier than ever to have his support.

“I… okay, Plagg. Thank you.”

After a brief pause, he pulled back and his whiskers tickled her face. He smiled at the sound of her giggle, and Tikki just felt her skin darken into deeper shades of scarlet.

“Do you know what you’ll give up? What’s something you give Marinette, maybe something everyday?”

The kwami wracked her brain for a moment, taking Plagg’s paws in her’s without a second thought. “... I guess, I guess I could stop giving her advice for a few days. Just sort of be there, instead of being there for her…?”

“That should be perfect,” her black companion nodded seriously, raising one of her paws to rest on his cheek. He closed his eyes and smiled at the contact. “Let me be there for you, and for her, this time.”

Bonus Scene (2):

Thursday Evening, approx. 8 PM

Adrien, literally, couldn’t thank them all enough.

“Thank you, thank you all so much. I can’t tell you what this means to me - even you just considering it. Thank you!”

The boy turned to Jacque, the head of the design team, and bowed his head politely. “If you make a decision, please give me a text or call. I’ll be sure you’re all paid overtime for your hard work, and I’ll definitely owe you one. Anything, anytime.”

The team of designers exchanged some heavy, doubtful looks, but politely waved off Gabriel’s son. It’s not like they could do much against the boss’s kid, though it was frustrating that he asked them not to tell Gabriel about it, either. Talk about a Catch-22.

“Welp, let’s put our heads together. He thinks we should mix them,” Rachel stated as she brought Marinette’s sketchbook to the center table, and the other five gathered around. “It’s not a bad idea, but it’d be more work. I’d say we go for this one instead?”

She pointed at the black, thinner and sexier dress in the book, and there was a general murmur of agreement.

“I’ll admit, she’s got talent,” remarked another designer, fixing his glasses as he peered over the purple design. “It’s sort of a shame they didn’t plan better. This one would have been a fun one to make. Nothing we can do about it now, though.”

“Right,” Jacque said with pursed lips. “Let’s go with Rach’s suggestion. We do the black one. Adrien will deal with it.”

“What will my son deal with, exactly?”

All six of the team practically (and in two cases, literally) leapt in the air at the sudden, sharp voice at the other end of the room. They were positioned around a long conference table, and at the other end, framed in the doorway, stood one Gabriel Agreste.

“M-Monsieur Agreste!” Rachel bowed severely. “What a surprise! Our apologies, we don’t have the samples ready quite yet.”

“That’s alright,” he said, tone so icy it made the team’s blood so cold. “What was it you were saying about my son?”

Several of them met eyes, all of them anxious and desperate. Gabriel Agreste was not the sort of man to lie to, and eventually, the tension hummed their general agreement.

Fuck this. Not worth losing my job over.

Jacque, as the team leader, cleared his throat and took a step forward. “M-Monsieur Agreste, your son, he just… that is to say, you’ve only just missed him. He brought us a request for a design, and asked that we stop all other projects to work on this by Saturday afternoon. We - I didn’t, rather, we did not know if it was... approved by you yet...”

As the man’s speech puttered off, it was accented by the sharp click of Gabriel Agreste’s heels on the tiles, and those on the left side of the table nearly fell backwards when he approached.

The man picked up the sketchbook with a skeptical look. “Is this what he requested?”

“Yes, sir,” another designer answered meekly. “He asked if we could combine them, and make the dress by Saturday, without any sort of model or measurements. It is reportedly for, um, Adrien’s… friend. I believe her name was Mary. We w-were going to, fairly, I’d say, pick t-the black one. It should be… simpler.”

“Simpler.” Gabriel repeated flatly.

Rachel nodded furiously. “Y-yes sir. We don’t want to take any time away from the Autumn project, so we’ll do the fastest and best job we can on the black one.

In the same tone, Gabriel inspected the sketches closely, bringing the book close to his glasses. “Yes. Why don’t you finish what you’re working on for the Autumn line.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Of course! Right away,” Jacques agreed fiercely, hugely relieved. “You heard him, Rachel, you go --”

Gabriel continued as if he hadn’t heard Jacque at all. When he looked up from the designs, his mouth was set to a hardened frown. “I will be back in an hour or so with a mock-up of the gowns, combined. See to it that they are completed by the latest, Saturday morning. This is not an ordinary gown - so, as usual, not a stitch out of place.”

Ghostly white, Jacque blinked furiously from the man to his team, all who looked about as deadpan as he was.

“Do you understand? This gown must be perfect.”

After a pregnant pause, the tension positively suffocating, Gabriel simply marched back out the way he came.

“Perfect,” he repeated. “And don’t mention a word of this to my son.”

Gabriel promptly closed the door behind him, leaving a room full of shocked, speechless - and soon-to-be relentlessly focused - designers in his wake.

[writingpaperghost]

There is a Me Who Can Become Strong (Chapter 54)

Chapter 54: You and Me

In the aftermath of Chronicle, not everything is okay, but the CR is managing. They seem to have acquired a new friend, as well.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32857183/chapters/90914299

Slumping in the chair at his makeshift desk in the patient room of the CR, Kuroto sighed, leaning his head next to his laptop. After hours and hours of work, all through the night, and a few lost lives – he wasn’t quite sure how many – he had finally managed to find a way to freeze the progression of the Gamedeus strain’s corruption of Emu’s data. Not that Kuroto was sure if that would even do much more than delay Emu’s death.

Now, the black scars had creeped well onto Emu’s face, on his cheeks and stopping a little below his eyes. According to Saki, the scars were all over his body, replacing Emu’s previous scars. Even the one from his surgery sixteen years before, the one that had been so faded, had been turned to black, though far thinner than the rest of the scars.

Never in his life had Kuroto thought that Emu was in this bad of shape. Never before had he been so afraid that Emu would die. Still, perhaps, now that Kuroto had somehow managed corral the infection, maybe he could awaken. Not that it seemed like it would be happening anytime soon. He wasn’t entirely sure, but he still feared that Emu’s data may be damaged, and without some kind of backup, he knew of no way to fix it.

With time, perhaps, but there was no telling how much they’d have.

He pulls himself out of the chair, giving Emu one last sad look, before leaving the room. The others will be here soon, at least Saki and most likely Director Kagami – Kiriya was still here, but Kuroto suspects he’d spent the night either on the couch, or in Poppy’s cabinet. Not that Kuroto particularly wanted to see Kiriya, but he’d at least admit that it was thanks to Kiriya he had gotten the motivation to try to directly stop Gamedeus’ infection. He could only hope he hadn’t somehow harmed Emu in the process.

Having reached the top of the stairs, Kuroto sees Kiriya on the couch, facing inwards so that, even if he were actually awake – which Kuroto doesn’t think he is – he wouldn’t be able to see the rest of the room. On the table, Kuroto notices two things. One, an old game console with a note on top – he thinks that might have been there the day before, but he wasn’t sure – and a Mighty plush, lying on its back with its eyes closed. The plush is the strange part, really, Kuroto doesn’t think there’s ever been a Mighty plush that looks like that.

Silently, he picks up the plush, which was strangely… warm. It was a rather good sized plush, larger than most of Gemn Corp’s plushes at about twelve inches tall, not counting the length of the legs, and it had a certain weight to it that didn’t quite seem right. Turning it over, he examines the back, and then all around, searching perhaps for some kind of tag, yet to no avail.

When he looks at its face again, the eyes are open, the left one red, and the right one pink. Hadn’t they been closed before? And those colors weren’t even right. Was this some kind of bootleg plush? Seriously? How’d it even get here?

A cheerful, but childish voice calls out, “Good morning!” Kuroto jumps back, dropping the Mighty plush which causes a loud “Oof!” from the child’s voice.

“What the?!” Looking around, Kuroto is unable to find the source of the voice. Then his eyes look down, at the Mighty plush again.

Now, the plush was standing, looking up at him curiously and rubbing its head. It blinked, curious. “Hello!” The childish voice said again.

Kuroto leans down to be closer to the Mighty, “A… Mighty?”

Suddenly, the Mighty looks around, whipping its body in a frantic search, “A Mighty?! Where?”

It occurred to Kuroto, then, that the source of the voice was in fact this Mighty. And that the Mighty wasn’t aware that he was a Mighty, it seemed. Kuroto chuckled, “You, you’re the Mighty.”

Loudly, the Mighty exclaimed, “I’m the Mighty?!” He cheerfully jumped up onto the table again, “Wow! That’s so cool! I’ve never been a Mighty before!”

From the couch, Kiriya makes a slight grumbling sound, before sitting up and swinging his legs off the couch, “Geez, what’s all this noise?”

Mighty jumps from the table into Kiriya’s lap, “I’m a Mighty!” He told Kiriya, in a proud and cheerful voice.

Kiriya stared at him for a moment, before laughing slightly, “Yeah, you are,”

The Mighty jumps down, then looks towards the stairs. There were footsteps, meaning that someone else was coming, if not more than one. Soon enough, Saki, Nico, Taiga, and the director enter the room, stopping when they see the Mighty.

It’s Nico who speaks first, “Why is there a Mighty plush on the floor?”

“Not a plush!” The Mighty protested, “I’m a… uh… a me!”

Saki blinked, before looking up at Kuroto and Kiriya for an explanation. Kuroto shrugged, “I found him this morning, a few minutes ago. He’s a… Mighty.”

“Yeah!” The Mighty cheered, “Imma Mighty!”

Picking up the Mighty, Kuroto asked, “Do you have a name?”

For a moment, the Mighty looks contemplative, before doing a motion that Kuroto thinks might count as shaking his head. “I don’t think so,”

“Then…” Kuroto can’t believe he’s about to suggest this, and perhaps it’s a testament to how much Emu’s current state is affecting him, but… “How about Mu?”

He can feel the eyes of the others on him, but he doesn’t pay them much mind. “…Mu…?” The Mighty echoes, before giggling, “I like that name! Mmmu! I like m sounds, like Mmmighty and Mmminecraft and mmmap!” The second time he said the name, and then in the following three words, he held the m sounds for a while, making a long m sound instead of whatever was supposed to be there.

“Mu it is,” Saki comments, “Speaking of… Kuroto, were you able to…?”

Sighing, Kuroto sets Mu down, “I was able to keep the infection from getting worse, not that I know how much good it will do. I… wouldn’t be surprised if the damage is already done.”

“Come with me and we’ll see what we can find out.”

Mu peered curiously at them, but simply waved and said, “Have fun, Mr. Zombie, Ms. Brave Knight!”

At the time, nothing had registered as strange about Mu’s names for them.

---

Mr. Bike was silly, he was stirring a bunch of sugar and milk into his coffee, but when he was done, he started playing with the spoon. Mu didn’t really get why, but he figured that maybe Mr. Bike was bored. Though, Ms. Snipe and Mr. Tiger were right over there, along with Mr. Director. It was only Mr. Zombie and Ms. Brave Knight who were gone, going to check on someone.

The silence in the room wasn’t very nice, it gave Mu a not very nice feeling. But Mu didn’t know how to fix it. No one was even saying anything, just sitting in quiet with only some sounds from Ms. Snipe’s game. Mu knew the sounds, they were from… well he wasn’t sure what, but he knew the game – he did!

So he hops over to Ms. Snipe, climbing up the couch beside her, “Ms. Snipe,” Mu called, “What game are you playing?”

With a funny expression, Ms. Snipe looks at him, frowning for a minute before answering, “Mighty Action X,”

“Mighty Action X…?” Mu echoes, “Is it like Mighty Action C?”

At that, Ms. Snipe sets her game down and looks at Mu, “Hold on…” Then she looks over at Mr. Tiger, “Taiga, isn’t that the game that Kuroto sent Emu when he was a kid?”

Mr. Tiger looked up, having not been paying attention, “What?”

“Mighty Action C,” Ms. Snipe repeats, “That was the game that Kuroto sent Emu, right?”

“Yeah, I think so, why?”

Returning her attention to Mu, Ms. Snipe answers, “Because somehow, Mu knows about it.”

Mu blinked, “I like lotsa games!” Games were fun.

“Yeah? I like games too,” Ms. Snipe says, “But how do you know about Mighty Action C?”

How did he know about Mighty Action C? Hmm… Mu had to think about that a bit. “I don’t know,” He finally told her, “I just do!”

“Ah, okay…”

Hopping down from the couch, Mu looked around the room again. Next, he decided he wanted to go talk to Mr. Director, so he jumps onto the table, sitting down in front of Mr. Director and his cake. “Hello!”

Mr. Director stares at him, before responding, “O-oh, hello,” Mr. Director was funny and very nervous-y. Mu was nervous-y too, sometimes.

But Mu didn’t want Mr. Director to be nervous-y, “Is cake good?”

“What?”

“Uh, is your cake yummy? Do you like cake?” It occurred to Mu he wasn’t actually all that great with people, “Um… cake’s supposed to be yummy.”

For a little bit, Mr. Director doesn’t answer. Maybe he’s still confused, or maybe he was just too nervous-y. Mu wasn’t sure. He just hoped he hadn’t made Mr. Director upset, he didn’t like upsetting people. After more time of Mr. Director not answering, Mu decided he must have upset him, and was going to leave.

Just as Mu was about to turn and hop off the table, Mr. Director finally says, “It is good, the cake, I mean.”

“That’s good!” Mu beamed, “It looks yummy!”

Curiously, Mr. Director asks, “Would you… like to try some?”

Mu gasps, “Really? Yes please!” So Mr. Director takes the fork and cuts a small bite, holding it out to Mu, before gaining a confused look on his face. Mu leans forward, moving his body closer and then the chunk of cake is gone. “It’s yummy!” He was ignoring the strange look that Mr. Director had.

---

“As far as either of us can tell, then,” Saki sighs, “He’s at least not getting any worse.”

From his seat at his makeshift desk, Kuroto grumbles, “He’s not getting any better, either.”

She sends him a slight glare, “At least like this, we might be able to find some way to help him, even if it takes a while,” Closing her eyes and tapping her finger on her cheek, she considers, “Maybe finding Emu’s Gashat might help?”

“Perhaps,” Kuroto considers, “Though I worry that Gamedeus might not be the only thing that might be negatively affecting Emu’s health.”

“What do you mean?”

“When Parad died, I believe Emu saved a bit of his data, enough that it seems Parad is using Emu as a sort of incubator, though I suspect it is not intentional. That takes a lot of energy,” Kuroto informs, frowning at his computer screen, “I had done the same with some of Poppy’s data, but my health isn’t already on the downhill. I fear that the additional strain on Emu’s body isn’t helping.”

Pursing her lips, Saki turns to him, “Is there a way to reduce the strain? Or remove Parad from Emu somehow?”

Kuroto types at his laptop for a moment, “I… might be able to move the fragments of data from Emu into a Bugvisor… I’ll need Parad’s Gashat Gear Dual and a Bugvisor, though,” He looks up, “I should be able to do what I did before, that way.”

“Right,” Saki nods, “We can do that… Then I suppose we should be expecting Parad and Poppy back, sooner or later.”

“Yes, you should.”

---

Mu sat on the table, sitting across from Ms. Brave Knight, who was quietly and slowly eating a slice of cake. In front of Mu was a plate with a much smaller slice of cake. He’d been here for what Mr. Bike says has been a week, and everyone in the See-Are were really nice. Mu liked them, Mr. Director and Ms. Brave Knight would share cake with him, Mr. Bike would tell him fun stories, Ms. Snipe would play games with him, Mr. Tiger didn’t really like talking to him, but he’d sometimes let Mu ride on his head, and Mr. Zombie would talk with him and show him the game he was working on (there was something really nice about the game).

So whenever Ms. Brave Knight had cake and Mu was around, she’d give him a small slice, and the two would eat together. It was nice. But she was sad, and she had been, for as long as Mu had been here. Finally, Mu decided that he wanted to ask what was wrong. “Ms. Brave Knight, is everyone sad?”

She looks up, “What do you mean, Mu?”

“Well, everyone here in the See-Are seem really sad,” Mu explained, setting down the DoReMiFa Beat themed fork Ms. Brave Knight had given him, “So is everyone sad?”

“We… are,” Ms. Brave Knight admits, setting her own fork down.

If Mu had a mouth, he’d frown, “Even Mr. Tiger?”

A small smile appears on her face, “Even Mr. Tiger,”

“Why?”

“Someone important isn’t doing very well,” Ms. Brave Knight explains, “And we’re all very worried.”

Slowly, Mu picks up his fork again, getting a small chunk of cake on his fork and bringing it to him. Cake was yummy. “Will they be okay?”

She looks down, “We don’t know.”

He jumps up, moving closer to her, “I’m sure they’ll get better, you’re all doctors and doctors make people better!” he didn’t want her to be sad anymore, he didn’t want anyone to be sad. “They’ll be okay and smile!”

The small smile returns, “I hope so too,” Then she changes the subject, “By the way, Mu, why do you call me ‘Ms. Brave Knight’?”

Mu giggles, moving back to his plate, “Because you’re brave and you’re a knight!” He waves his hand, mimicking the movements of a sword, “You’re a here-o! You save people!”

For a few moments she stares at him, “I… see. It’s a nice name.”

“I like it too!”

---

Two weeks after Chronicle had ended and Emu showed no signs of improvement. He didn’t seem to be worse, either, but that wasn’t entirely reassuring. Just because he wasn’t getting worse, didn’t mean that he was going to get better. Still, the CR was doing all they can, however little it was. Now, it was a matter of waiting, and hoping for the best.

A lot of what they were doing now, was waiting and hoping for the best.

Not just with Emu, but with a lot of things. Since they’d reported what had happened during the end of Chronicle to the Ministry of Health, the Ministry had been doing a… separate investigation. With something like Chronicle it was no surprise, but it had resulted in everyone being more or less stuck without much to do. They were allowed to act as Riders if there was a case of Game Disease, and they were allowed to tend to Emu, but that was about it, at least as far as the CR was concerned.

Saki suspected that the Ministry would be displeased with some of the actions taken by various members and/or Riders of the CR during Chronicle. She didn’t think they were too happy about Taiga or Nico, or how Kiriya had come upon a Gamer Driver and Gashat along with his time working for Masamune. Nor did she think they would take to kindly to Saki’s own brief stint working with Masamune, or everything that had happened with Kuroto and Emu with Masamune.

Still, if the Ministry had any problems with what had happened, they had yet to voice them. Which might have been a relief, maybe, were it not for the fact it really only worried Saki more. Especially with Parad and Poppy eventually returning, and the state Emu was in, as Masamune’s words still hung over them. The possibility of Gamedeus returning, so long as the strain remained present in Emu. And they knew they wouldn’t be able to separate the strain from Emu, not without killing him.

Emu didn’t deserve to die, not after everything he’s been through. He deserved to live, and they would do whatever they could to ensure that he did. Masamune took so much from him, but his life and his future wouldn’t be one of those things. Not if the CR had anything to say about.

That was assuming he ever woke up, of course, but they’d keep doing what they could. Whatever that ended up being, if anything at all. Kuroto was working to do what he could, for now he was focused on Parad and Poppy’s return. There wasn’t much else he could do, after all.

There was, of course, the offer of Gemn Corp’s new majority shareholder, but he had yet to give her an answer on it. It was still strange to think that Nico was the majority shareholder of Gemn Corp, having sank all her savings from being Genius Gamer N into it. She had said something about how she wasn’t going to let her favorite game company go under.

After all, with everything that had happened with Kamen Rider Chronicle and Masamune and Lovelica, along with the perceived misdeeds of Kuroto, people had lost a lot of faith in Gemn. Even if very few people working at Gemn Corp were actually responsible for any crimes. Most had nothing, if anything, to do with Game Disease and Chronicle.

Nico, using the brain logic that generally only Nico used, decided that she wanted Kuroto to be president again. There were a few possible obstacles with that, but Nico wasn’t one to be easily deterred. Kuroto, though, was hesitant, and Emu’s state probably didn’t help with that. Nico’s entirely logic was just that Kuroto liked making games for people, but Saki was pretty sure she had a backup if Kuroto turned her down.

Saki also wasn’t entirely sure Nico had cleared giving Kuroto such a job with the Ministry, but this was Nico. She’d have to deal with it sooner or later. Knowing Nico, she’d probably try to do it later, but who knows. Either way, she should probably clear it with the Ministry.

Mu, it seemed, was here to stay. He brought a little bit of levity into their lives, at least. He was… strange. Unlike other Bugsters (because that certainly was what he was), Mu, as it turned out, needed to eat, drink, and sleep. He got hungry and thirsty, and he got tired. Essentially, he was a Mighty shaped child. When he was tired, he was more easily upset, and he treated everything with this childlike wonder and excitement.

It was, in its own way, nice. He distracted from their worry, and since he was so small and relatively helpless when it came to getting food and drink for himself, someone usually had to help him. Kuroto had taken a particular shining to Mu, and Saki suspects it has to do with Mu’s similarities to Emu. Sure, Mu was strange, but most of that came from his Mighty appearance, more so than his actual personality. He needed their help, yes, but it wasn’t some grave life or death situations, it was small things.

It was trying to get him to eat food that was good for him (he mostly liked sweet things, or very sour things like lemons. No in between and certainly not vegetables, unless they were somehow sweet). Or giving him his glasses of milk, water, chocolate milk, and his cups of hot chocolate that he loved. Making him a bed using some of the blankets and pillows Graphite had acquired for his nest, since Mu refused to go into Poppy’s cabinet, even if Kiriya or Kuroto tried to go with him.

If nothing else, Mu gave Kuroto the sort of distraction he needed, so he wasn’t focusing so desperately on Emu.

---

Mr. Tiger was a grouchy person, and Mu thinks it must be because he’s old. After all, only old people had white hair, and Mr. Tiger had quite a bit of white in his hair. Ms. Snipe called him an old man, too, so he must be old! Today, Ms. Snipe had brought him with her to Mr. Tiger’s clinic, which had Mu marveling. It was a bit different from the See-Are and the hospital that the See-Are was in. Smaller, for one, and two, it was a bit more dusty.

“Taiga’s trying to get it spiffed up,” Ms. Snipe explained, “Little less disrepair since the Ministry’s agreed to give him his license back.”

Mu doesn’t know what Ms. Snipe means by ‘spiffed up’ or ‘disrepair’ (maybe like, not fixed?) nor does he know what a ‘Ministry’ is or why they’d be giving back Mr. Tiger’s license. What was the license even for? Like… driving? Mu’s pretty sure you’re supposed to have one for that, but he doesn’t get what that has to do with his clinic. Still, it was cool to see a new place! There weren’t a lot of new places for Mu to see in the See-Are, anymore. He’d seen them all.

Ms. Snipe is holding Mu in her arms, letting his legs dangle while his hands were on her arms, a bit like how you’d hold a plush. “Is this where Mr. Tiger lives?”

She nods, “Both him and me, we have rooms we’ve taken over as our sort of bedrooms.”

“It’s messy,” Mu notes, wiggling free of Ms. Snipe’s grasp and landing on the floor, “Reminds me of… my house.”

“Your house?”

Oh, it’s one of those times where something sort of just pops into Mu’s head, he says something about it, and then someone is confused and asks about it. Except Mu doesn’t really know the answer or how to explain. It doesn’t really make sense to him, either. “Uh… it was messy, except my rooms, those were clean. I didn’t clean the other rooms, just mine. They were… still a bit messy, but not that bad.”

He wanders off a ways but Ms. Snipe keeps up with him, not letting him get too far away from her, “Why did you only keep your rooms clean?”

“I don’t know, I just did,” Mu responds, before he catches a bit of black pants, boots, and a long white coat down one of the hallways. “Oh! Mr. Tiger!” He takes off after him.

When Mu climbs up Mr. Tiger’s coat and onto his head, Mr. Tiger only groans, “Why are you here?”

Ms. Snipe catches up, barely keeping her giggles hidden, “I brought him to come see the clinic and say hi,”

“You’re a gremlin and so is he,”

Whacking Mr. Tiger on the arm, Ms. Snipe remarks, “Don’t be dramatic,”

Mu laughs.

---

“They want to what?” Saki freezes, staring face to face with Director Hinata with Haima at her side. The words Director Hinata had just said to her had barely registered.

She’s not the only one present, as Director Hinata had asked, she’d made sure that Kuroto, Nico, Taiga, and Kiriya were also present (some part of her was wondering where Mu was, but then she sees a lump in his bed by Poppy’s cabinet and knows he must be sleeping. Hopefully none of this would wake him up). They needed to hear the news too, and she was beginning to see why.

“Now that the Ministry of Defense has heard that Gamedeus could be brought back, with Emu still infected, they want him to die,” Director Hinata informed them once more, still in a grave tone, “It’s ridiculous, but they won’t be easily dissuaded.”

This was a dangerous conversation to be having with Kuroto present. Already, with a glance back she could see Kuroto beginning to tremble in anger, Taiga moving himself closer in case Kuroto had an outburst. A glance back on the other side showed Kiriya’s strangely serious face and Nico’s own simmering anger. Finally, she says, “We’re not doing that,” Her tone is stern, “Emu is a victim here, and we’re not allowing him to die after all of this, even if there’s a chance that Gamedeus could come back.”

“I’m aware,” Director Hinata sighed, “But such understanding doesn’t come from others who have dealt less with Game Disease and Chronicle. I believe they’d rather ignore what has been done to Emu and pay attention solely to the possible dangers.”

Quietly, Nico scoffs, “Idiots,”

Director Hinata continued, “Emu isn’t the only one they want gone, though,” He keeps a neutral expression, but it’s clear by the tone in his voice, he isn’t entirely pleased with all of this, “They want allBugsters gone, even the ones that don’t have a strain directly attached to them.”

“So Kuroto and I,” Kiriya notes, “Yeesh, talk about cold.”

Nico swats at his arm, “Seriously?”

“The Ministry of Health has no intention in agreeing to their requests, though there are a few other things I must inform you of, more to do with what the Ministry found during their investigation, which I will say is still on going,” Saki suspected that the rest of the news wouldn’t be stellar either, but it probably wouldn’t have to do with wanting anyone dead. “Mr. Dan, as before, is to continue to be monitored, that should come as no surprise.”

At that, Kuroto just made a vague motion that probably summed up to understanding. The Ministry probably wasn’t entirely convinced on how much real agency Kuroto had held with his actions. Even if he was ultimately also responsible for most of the Gashats they used, and for more than a few necessary achievements during Chronicle.

Continuing on, Director Hinata says, “The Ministry does seek to pursue charges against Ms. Saiba and Ms. Morishita, for hacking into government files, as well as blackmail on Ms. Saiba’s part.” Nico seemed only mildly bothered by such things, mostly just shoving her hands into her pockets and shrugging. She looked a lot like Taiga, in that moment. He was really rubbing off on her. “I suspect they may attempt to impede Doctor Hanaya fully getting his clinic running as a Game Disease treatment center, despite returning his license, due to holding the Gamer Driver and Gashat, briefly, and later using them.”

At that Nico frowns, “Hey, hold on, why the hell would they give Taiga trouble for that, but not me? I mean, I was supposed to have the Gamer Driver and Gashats less than he was supposed to.”

Taiga glares at her, hissing, “Nico, shut up!”

“Well, they already have possible criminal charges against you, I believe that’s plenty enough for them,” Director Hinata told her, before continuing on, “As for Doctor Kujo and Doctor Momose, they are still under investigation and will suspend any of their medical activities, outside of patients within the CR and monitoring Mr. Dan.”

That, Saki was not surprised in the slightest by. Both she and Kiriya had worked for Masamune, for varying degrees of time. She doubted her argument of protecting a patient would amount to much, at least in the eyes of whoever was in charge of this investigation. It was likely whatever reasoning Kiriya could provide would do even less. Still, it was early enough into this investigation, she was willing to simply wait and see. It wasn’t like there was much more she could do.

Director Hinata looked some degree of remorseful, probably as much as he could without dropping an appearance of professionalism, “I’m trying to persuade the Ministry not to enact too heavy of punishment for what occurred, not after what you’ve all done to help. It far outweighs any mistakes or less than desirable decisions you’ve made.” Then his expression changes, taking on something perhaps a little lighter. “Now, enough of that, how has Emu been?”

“Not much better, I’m afraid,” Saki informs him, “He’s stable, but despite what we’ve done, it seems his body is slowly getting weaker.”

Kuroto rolls his eyes, taking on a bitter tone when he speaks, “I might have been able to stop Gamedeus’ strain from hurting him and corrupting more of his data, but I can’t undo what’s been done, even now that we’ve found his Gashat to aid in the process,” It had taken a while, but finally, they’d found the Gashat Emu’s data was tied to. Perhaps it was unsurprising that it had been Mighty Brothers XX. According to Kuroto, it had been made with Emu specifically in mind, and all that entailed. “At the very least, removing Parad’s data and putting it into a Bugvisor until he’s fully reformed has lessened the strain on Emu’s body.”

“Parad’s data?”

“Emu managed to grab a hold of some of his data, enough that it could easily reform. But it would use Emu as a source of energy, which would be draining on him and possibly makes things worse,” Kuroto quickly responded, “The same thing is happening with Poppy and myself, I simply am in far better condition to undergo such a process than Emu is currently.”

Briefly, a frown crosses Director Hinata’s face, before it disappears, “Other’s in the Ministry won’t be happy,” He states, “But I for one will welcome them back. Now, would it be alright if I see Emu?”

“It isn’t pretty,” Kuroto comments.

It’s ignored, Saki nodding, “Yes, of course.”

Before anyone could move, the sound of rustling blankets was heard, before quick and sudden footsteps, resulting in Mu standing on top of Kuroto’s head waving enthusiastically, “Good morning, Doctor Kyotaro!” At his words and appearance, Director Hinata startled, though Mu didn’t appear to notice. Or he did and ignored it. “I’m Mu! That’s the name Mr. Zombie gave me!”

“Mu is a Mighty, a Bugster, we believe,” Saki explained, seeing the surprise on Director Hinata’s face, “He appeared the night Chronicle had ended, though we’re not sure why.”

“I don’t know where I’m from,” Mu cheerfully, though not entirely helpfully, supplied, “I just woke up here! Then I went back to sleep, an’ then Mr. Zombie woke me up!”

Haima frowned, “But how does Mu know Director Hinata’s name?”

Mu hops down, making his way over to Director Hinata, “Of course I know it!” He declared in response, again not entirely a helpful answer, “A smile is proof of your health!” Certainly, if Mu had a mouth, he’d be smiling.

“It is,” Director Hinata crouches down to better reach Mu’s height, “Are you smiling?”

“Yeah! I smile lots! I just… don’t have a mouth, but I’m smiling!” Mu moves his body in the motion that they’ve learned is equivalent to nodding, “Everyone else is sad, because their important person is sick, but there’s no one important to me who’s sick, so…” Perhaps they could have done without Mu calling out their feelings about what happened to Emu, like that. Still, it was incredibly likely that Director Hinata was aware, anyway.

Gaining a contemplative expression, Mu looks down for a moment, before looking up at Saki, “Hey, Ms. Brave Knight?”

“Yes?”

“Can I meet Emu? Your sick important person?” There was something so innocent in Mu’s eyes when he asked, innocent yet earnest. Truly, he seemed to want to meet Emu, though Saki wasn’t entirely sure why.

She leans down, picking Mu up, “He won’t be able to speak to you, or do anything,” She tells him, “But if you’d still like to, you can.”

“Yes please!”

Saki turns to Director Hinata, “Then let’s go,”

When they arrive in Emu’s room, Mu hops out of Saki’s arms, climbing over to Emu’s bed and perching on the end, peering at Emu. Director Hinata keeps a bit more of a distance, instead standing next to the bed. There hasn’t been much they could do for Emu, but at least he wasn’t getting worse.

Quietly, Mu gently pokes Emu’s cheek.

“I suppose you’ve all had enough of seeing Emu in bed like this, between this and everything when you brought him here and during Chronicle,” Director Hinata comments.

“All we can hope now,” Saki sighs, “Is that he’ll recover. Even that seems unlikely.”

He regards Emu for a moment, “Emu has a way of surviving, it seems,” He notes, watching Mu, who now stared at Emu with an unreadable expression. “I’m certain he’ll pull through once more.”

For a moment, Saki wonders if she should tell him. Tell him what Nico had said about how easily Emu was willing to die. Prior to that, everyone had known that what had happened to him had been hard on him, but Saki had never considered that it had been so bad that Emu would want to die. She wondered if perhaps that had, to some degree, contributed to his current state.

Finally, though, she speaks in a hushed tone, simply so Mu wouldn’t overhear and wouldn’t worry, “Director Hinata, Emu wants to die.”

Director Hinata turns to her with a knowing, almost tired look, “Years after we’d met, Emu confessed to me that his accident when he was eight was no accident. That he’d stopped in the crosswalk on purpose. Because he had thought if he’d die, then he’d get a chance to go through everything again and have a better life. Because that’s what happened in games, and he’d been so lonely and sad that he’d decided that was the only way to be happy,” Somehow, the words still shook Saki, despite knowing how Emu was now. Perhaps, that explained why Parad had proclaimed himself Emu’s best friend. Because they had no other friend. “By that time, he’d knew that wasn’t what would have happened, but he had been desperate. He had thanked me, again, for saving him, not just from his injuries, but by showing him kindness, something no one really had before.”

Carefully, Saki says, “That doesn’t mean he’ll change his mind about whether he wants to live or die if he wakes up,”

“Be kind to him,” He says, “The world hasn’t and it’s up to us to remind him that not everything is cruel.”

Saki supposed he had a point, but she wasn’t sure just how right Director Hinata might. How likely it was that Emu’s mind could be changed when he woke up. Still, it was nice to hope, nice to consider that things might get better.

---

Going from grasping Gamedeus to simply standing in the CR was strange, and that was saying something, given everything that’s happened. Still, that was exactly what Parad had found himself faced with at this moment. Kuroto stood, looking tired, holding a Bugvisor out, behind him is Saki, Kiriya, and Nico.

Two things strike him in that moment, from the bond. A dull, aching pain, different from what he’d felt from the bond before. Then, there was also this intense, almost overwhelming sorrow. Both caught him off guard, but in varying degrees.

Saki takes a step forward, giving him a smile, “Welcome back, Parad,”

Almost stomping up to him, Nico holds out the old WonderSwan and his note, “You’ll have to wait to give it to Emu, but at least you can do it in person.”

Confused, he takes it, “…What?”

The smile on Saki’s face falls as Kuroto huffs. With a sigh, Saki explains, “Emu was infected with a strain of Gamedeus that was uncured by Poppy’s vaccine, it’s resulted in him being in a coma.”

“How long?”

“A month,” Kuroto answers blithely, “And I doubt he’ll wake up anytime soon.”

Parad tucks the WonderSwan and his note into his pocket, frowning, “…Fuck.”

The next thing he knows is pain as he’s hit in the head, a childish voice yelling, “Bad words! Puzzle says bad words!”

There’s a quiet laugh from Saki as Parad opens his eyes, then looks down to the source of the voice. Staring up at him, looking annoyed, was a Mighty, with red and pink eyes staring up at him, holding a small version of the Gashacon Breaker in his hand. Confused, Parad wonders aloud, “A Mighty…?”

The Mighty simply keeps glaring at him, “Puzzle better not try anything! Mu’ll whack him again!”

Kiriya plucks the Mighty off the ground by one of his spikes, “Chill, Mu,”

Mu, the Mighty, immediately began to squirm, “Let go! Let me go! Mr. Bike!” He drops his Gashacon Breaker. “Free Mu!”

“Nope!” Kiriya chirped, “Not if you’re going to try to hit Ace again.”

In response, Mu makes no comment, just keeps squirming.

With an almost affectionate expression, Kuroto tells Parad, “That’s Mu, he’s a Mighty who appeared after Chronicle ended.”

“He seems… nice?”

Kuroto just stares at Mu for another moment, before a small smile creeps its way onto his face, “He’s… wonderful.”

Nico walks up to them, “Yeah, now if only he was easier to get to eat things, I swear, you’d think he wants to live off of junk food.”

“Don’t you mostly live off of junk food?” Parad asks, recalling the times he’d seen her eating before. It was a lot of potato chips.

“Shut up,” She turns her attention to Kuroto, “Hey, marketing got back about your idea, same with the PR department. They think it’s a good idea, though I think you’re mostly just suggesting it because you have feelings and don’t want to properly admit it out loud.”

“I think it’s your turn to shut up,” Kuroto grumbles, “But of course it’s a good idea.”

Tilting his head, Parad asks, “What are you talking about?”

“Something Gemn’s been working on,” Nico explained, “I’m the majority shareholder of Gemn Corp, now, and I’ve put Kuroto as president, again.”

“Something the Ministry has feelings about,” Saki informs, “But they’re letting it be as long as we keep him here and monitor any files he sends or receives. I’m afraid not everyone is convinced on how little willingness Kuroto had in what had happened.”

Blinking, Parad sighs, “I see things have gone in a… bit of a manner.”

“Mr. Puzzle is a Boogster too!” Mu proclaims, finally wiggling free of Kiriya’s grasp, “Mr. Zombie tells me I’m a Boogster!”

“Boogster?” Parad echoes.

To which Mu responds, “Yeah! A fuzzy thing that vibrates and is a Boogster!”

Parad blinks. Kuroto sighs, “He means Bugster,”

“Boogster!” Mu repeats with a cheerful laugh.

Well, Mu was a nice breath of levity, it seemed.

---

The next Bugster to be brought back, only a couple days later, was Poppy. Apparently, while Parad had initially been using Emu to return, before being moved to the Bugvisor, Kuroto had ensured that Poppy would do the same with him. Which meant that she returned not too long after Parad had.

She looks around the CR, before seeing them and smiling, “Ah, I guess Emu’ll have to keep his promise,”

“When he wakes up,” Parad adds mirthlessly, “A lot has happened.”

“And,” Saki continues for him, “I’m afraid you’ll only be able to work around the CR. It’s the same for most of the rest of us.”

They spent what was probably the next hour explaining what all had happened to Poppy. She was, understandably, not the happiest about it, but they could all agree it could certainly be worse. Maybe they were all just holding out on the possibility of things working themselves out and getting better.

Finally, in wanders an exasperated Taiga, holding a squirming Mu by one of his spikes. “Mr. Tiger!” Mu cries, “Lemme go!”

Taiga drops Mu, who lands on the ground, then bounces up a few inches, before landing on the ground again. Then, he stands up, huffing. Taiga rolled his eyes, “Take the gremlin back,” He says, “Before he breaks something.”

“I’m not gonna break something!” Mu protests, crossing his arms. Then he turns around, seeing Poppy. The moment he lays eyes on Poppy, he rushes forward, hopping onto the table and beaming, “Hi! I’m Mu, that’s the name Mr. Zombie gave me!”

“Oh!” Poppy giggles, “It’s nice to meet you Mu, I’m Poppy Pipopapo.”

There’s a flash of recognition in Mu’s eyes, “Like DoReMiFa Beat!” He giggled himself, “I like DoReMiFa Beat! I like Ms. Flower, too, you remind me of my mom.”

As far as Parad knows, Mu has never mentioned any family, before. It was strange that he was bringing it up now. “I do?” Poppy asks.

“Yeah, you’re nice and flower-y,” Mu explained, “Like mom! At least, before mom got sick and went away… then my big bro was sad.”

“And… what happened to your mom when she got sick?”

Mu shrugged, “I dunno,” Then he looked around, “Hey! Hey! It’s sandwich time!”

Both Poppy and Saki giggled, before Parad sighed, making his way to where they kept food for Mu. If Mu was hungry, it was best to feed him, though he ate a lot. It was just a part of the routine in the CR. Feed Mu when he was hungry, so he wasn’t hungry. Not that they knew where any of that food really went.

Being given his sandwich, Mu hops off the table, eating it in moments, before wandering towards the stairs cheerfully singing a song.

Maybe just turn and walk away

You’ll somehow find the strength to say,

Only you alone can find your way.

In the coldest night of your darkest hour,

Listen to your heart ‘cause you got the power!

He pauses for a moment, before continuing, this time a slightly different tune.

You were there for me in my darkest days,

You came for me when I lost my way,

My guiding light, you always pulled me through…

I believe in you!

He’s on the stairs now – they know that he won’t leave the CR, he can’t even reach the call button for the elevator, so he couldn’t even if he wanted to. Hopping down the stairs, he pauses again, before continuing a new tune, still loudly.

Make a wish, it’s up to you!

Find the strength inside,

The watch your dreams come true.

You don’t need a shooting star,

The magic’s right there in your heart!

Close your eyes, believe,

And make a wish!

Mu giggles to himself, singing with his childish lack of care.

Oh oh, we’re coming home,

The only place that’s never too far!

Oh oh, we’re coming home,

It’s time to listen to their call!

When adventure comes our way,

We’ll go back and play!

Oh oh…

We’re coming home…

There was something very sweet about it.

[lbat1901]

Yeah, I’ve done the unspeakable and made one of these. However instead of an art summary, it’s a complication of things things that happened hence the title “Lbat1901’s Best of 2019”.

January 2019 - (I know that the pic for the January slot is to its side, but I couldn’t fit the full image without cutting most of it out) This was the month where I posted the prologue marking the first release of my Eddsworld based story, At World’s End. It was very successful and it is available on Tumblr, Quotev, Wattpad, Fanfiction.Net, and Ao3.

Also it is worth nothing that January saw the the prologue to Dropshot, an AU that is takes the elements to the High School AU but uses basketball elements in the universe that is Eddsworld.

February 2019 - This was the month where I launched my series Channel 7 Lucky Hour along with the first chapter to Dropshot. Plus this was the month were the first ever piece of UTFTF content was released

March 2019 - This was the month where I got bored one day and decided to open up Photoshop to make a silly edit of Patryck dancing to Never Gonna Give You Up. I regret nothing and Dropshot’s progress was a little lanky in terms of new chapters being released when the fourth chapter was released.

April 2019 - This was the month where the five and sixth chapters to Dropshot were released and was the month were the last chapter to At World’s End was published. Plus this is the same month where I gave everyone the first taste to Eddbusters which was a Ghostbusters AU for Eddsworld. Another thing that had happened in this month was I posted a rant about TBATF which blew up and has everyone on the Eddsworld Animo talk about the situation. I was the third person to make a TBATF rant and I am proud of it.

May 2019 - This was the month were seven chapters to Dropshot were released after getting my crap together.

June 2019 - This was the month were Dropshot gotten serious in terms of new chapter releases. It was crazy. I also posted the prologue to UTFTF on accident, but despite of it, it was successful.

July 2019 - July was the month where the plot to Dropshot was nearing to its end in an epic basketball match between Edd’s team and a team lead by the story’s true villain and his team that was considered to be very ruthless in order to save the world.

August 2019 - I know what you’re thinking, the Eddbusters cover art was revealed in September. Why is it in the slot for August? That’s because Eddbusters was fully completed and was in its editing state. The cover art was also made during the editing process and there were many concepts for it. I ended up basing it on the official DVD cover for the first Ghostbusters film since the story was entirely based on the movie.

September 2019 - Speaking of Eddbusters being based entirely on the first Ghostbusters film, even though it had the same plot, some things were left out to make sure that Eddbusters sticked to Eddsworld along the its charm and jokes. However nothing was changed from the main source material, so there’s that.

October 2019 - October was really a busy month in terms of new content being shared. First off was Inktober which I did some drawings for it last year and second, Eddbusters made its debut on October 12th which ended up receiving huge loads of feedback. Who knows, maybe it would get a direct sequel in 2020. A man can dream.

November 2019 - Nothing interesting really happened in November expect for Eddbusters still going strong and of course the release of Pokemon Sword and Shield. I even drew Inteleon for it.

December 2019 - The last and final month of 2019 and the ending cap for the 2010s. Main, where did time even go? Pokemon Sword and Shield had some controversy and I made an entire about the situation along with explaining the flaws of my beloved Pokemon Charizard, but despite that, I had a great time playing through Pokemon Sword. No matter what people say about a Pokemon game, I am still going to enjoy it. Oh and uh, December saw the last chapter release to Eddbusters and saw the few special looks into UTFTF which I’ve almost neglected.

Oh and here’s the entire chapter list for Dropshot which are in chronological order in terms of release. Just take it:

Prologue - January 6th 2019 (92 views) Chapter 1 - February 4th 2019 (80 views) Chapter 2 - February 13th 2019 (90 views) Chapter 3 - February 26th 2019 (87 views) Chapter 4 - March 12th 2019 (88 views) Chapter 5 - April 2nd 2019 (122 views) Chapter 6 - April 16th 2019 (61 views) Chapter 7 - May 1st 2019 (80 views) Chapter 8 - May 6th 2019 (77 views) Chapter 9 - May 10th 2019 (59 views) Chapter 10 - May 14th 2019 (48 views) Chapter 11 - May 16th 2019 (63 views) Chapter 12 - May 24th 2019 (71 views) Chapter 13 - May 29th 2019 (52 views) Chapter 14 - June 3rd 2019 (49 views) Chapter 15 - June 6th 2019 (54 views) Chapter 16 - June 10th 2019 (68 views) Chapter 17 - June 13th 2019 (61 views) Chapter 18 - June 16th 2019 (45 views) Chapter 19 - June 19th 2019 (56 views) Chapter 20 - June 25th 2019 (63 views) Chapter 21 - June 27th 2019 (41 views) Chapter 22 - July 5th 2019 (54 views) Chapter 23 - July 10th 2019 (42 views) Chapter 24 - July 17th 2019 (61 views) Chapter 25 - July 25th 2019 (37 views) Chapter 26 - July 29th 2019 (64 views) Chapter 27 - July 31st 2019 (69 views)