#joyous suggestions! yay!

[historixally-accurate]

mape for seri on twitter hi seri

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Gold Rush (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Your whole life you have been Daemon’s voice of reason. Tonight, you choose to be the impulsive one. 

Warnings: Velaryon! Reader (And POC!) Friends to lovers. Fluff. Eloping. Tender, loving smut.

Requested: Uh, I don’t know for markers of arousal, but they are a mess. Sub Daemon and POC reader, as requested. I finished the bingo! Yay! 

You clutch the letter in your hand, a joyous smile slowly starting to spread on your face. Uncaring of the guards, or the people around you, you hike up your skirt and race to the courtyard, screaming with all your might. 

“Daemon!” You say, laughing. “Daemon, Daemon, come quickly.” The letter is still clutched in your hand. Your light blue slippers, matching your dress, are starting to get mud soaked; you have avoided the paths to get there faster. 

Your childhood friend is in the training yard, his armor glinting under the sunlight. For once, he is not wearing the full Targaryen regalia, but rather a simple chest plate. You find yourself a bit taken aback by how handsome he looks with the sun hitting him from behind, hair shining like polished silver. He reminds you of the statues of the Seven you have seen in the royal Sept, a halo around his head. 

Daemon sets Dark Sister down when noticing your arrival. He steps aside from his sparring partner, a knight from House Lannister, as if he were meaningless. The man shouts something, probably in indignation from the abandoned match, but Daemon only has eyes for you.

Standing on the steps near the courtyard, his full attention is a heady feeling. It nearly makes you sway. He manages to look even more handsome when a bit roughed up. 

“Is that…?” He asks, pointing at the parchment in your hand. You nod. 

“He said yes! My brother said yes!” You shout, laughing. Daemon runs towards you, even more mud soaked and sweaty than you are and hugs you to him, spinning you around. It only prompts you to laugh louder. 

“You wonderful, wonderful woman.” He says, peppering your face with kisses, uncaring of the stares from the rest of the knights scattered around. You squeal when he squeezes you to him a little too hard, only to laugh right after at his eagerness. 

At the noise, Ser Harold lifts his head, but when he realizes that it is Daemon and you once more, he only shakes his head in exasperation before returning to his guard duties. 

“And has the Queen..?” You ask Daemon, in a low voice. Sudden doubts make your heart clench. Convincing her of allowing Daemon to marry you had been hard, especially considering she had a match in the Vale already lined up for him. It had taken the two of you nearly a year, and you had only managed to soften her heart by reminding her and her brother husband were once a love match too. She had agreed only if your brother agreed to it too. 

And that had been another can of worms. You knew Corlys was ambitious and wanted to see his wife, Rhaenys, on the throne. Marrying Daemon was the utmost betrayal in his eyes, for it was clear your friend would side with his own brother if there was a succession issue. Thankfully, he had given you permission, swayed by the promise that you would keep Daemon and Caraxes out of it if the worst came to pass. 

Finally, Daemon and you could marry. You were holding the very proof of it in your hands. 

“She has. But still…” Daemon gently grasped your face, tilting your head up so he could look into your dark eyes. “We must not allow them to change their minds.” 

You looked up at him, chewing your lower lip. It was not the first time Daemon suggested eloping. Running away to Dragonstone to be wed in the traditions of your shared ancestors and damn to your families. You had never dared. Despite being oddly similar to the romance tale of the Queen and King, you doubted they would take kindly to it. 

“Corlys said…” You start, softly. You do not mind being the voice of reason. It is how it has always been. Ever since you were the little girl sent to foster under Queen Alysanne’s watchful eye. Your father had thought, back then, if you could claim the Cannibal, you surely needed a strong woman to teach you to be one. 

His plan had worked. Perhaps you had not learned much about being a proper Lady, that didn’t track mud into the halls or stab others with practice swords, but by the Gods you had learned strength.  Both of you had, under her. The thing was, Daemon always thought that strength meant charging right at problems while you thought it was better to watch and think first. 

“Give me that.” Daemon complains, taking the parchment from your hand. You yelp and try to take it back, but he raises it high over his head, where you cannot reach. You try regardless, holding his shoulders and jumping up and down in a quite undignified manner. 

Daemon watches you with a smirk, eyes lingering on the bodice of your dress. It is once you exhaust yourself that you notice he is leering at your breasts, and you give him a good shove for it. 

He laughs. He pulls you by the waist and places a kiss on your forehead. 

“You are a pig.” You complain, crossing your arms over your chest. It is not the first time you have caught him looking at you, but it is the first time it feels so intentional. Daemon and you have never crossed that line before. Sure, he has looked, and you have too, but it is only natural. You are the only girl he has been around in a consistent manner. The two of you have been partners in crime since you were children. 

Daemon has had his dalliances outside of you, of course. You know he is fond of brothels and Gods know what else. You do not mind it. This wish for a match between the two of you is not about physical attraction, but rather that if you had to pick one man to be bound with and him only one woman to belong to, both of you choose each other. It’s simple. 

You love him, of course you do. But then, how could you not? Everyone loves Daemon. He is just that charming. Maidens want to be with him, knights want to be him. He is a true dragon, the finest his House has to offer. 

And you are… You. A daughter of House Velaryon, a bit too wild, a bit too unladylike. Nothing to your name but your dragon. At least in that you take pride in. What a foe, your child was. 

“Only for you.” Daemon says, brushing a stray curl away from your face. He twists his finger in it, making it coil tighter before springing back up. 

“Sure.” You laugh, and Daemon gives your hair a harsh little tug, making you yelp.

“I am serious.” He warns, a bit threateningly. His grip on your hair is firm enough to force you to keep your attention on him.  His eyes are locked with yours. “From today on, you are mine. And I am yours. I won’t… I don’t want anyone in my bed that is not you.” 

Your breath catches in your throat. It might as well be a declaration of undying love, coming from Daemon. He is not one for monogamy, your friend. That he is now saying he wants you and only you means… It means everything. 

“But you have never touched me.” You say to him, confused. 

“Of course not, you silly thing.” Daemon shakes his head. “My father would have strangled me.” 

You fight the urge to laugh. Baelon Targaryen had never been too fond of Daemon not being a proper Prince. Unfortunately, he was often so busy with his duties he had little chance of teaching either of you manners. 

No, instead, the older Prince was much more decisive. Every time he caught Daemon with one of the maids, he got rid of them and paid them a pretty sum to forget the incidents ever happened.

“They would have sent me back.” You realize, voice barely above a whisper. If he had ever caught a whiff of impropriety between the two of you, Prince Baelon would have sent you back to Driftmark so fast you would have gotten whiplash. 

“Yes. They would.” Daemon agrees, softly. His grip on your curls soften. Instead, he starts scratching at your scalp, as if to soothe the hurt. “And I didn’t… You are good. I wouldn’t have brought you dishonor.” 

The admission embarrasses him. Daemon wants everyone to think he isn't concerned with that sort of thing. It is his armor. Being the Rogue Prince, the one who makes the unexpected move, the one who doesn’t care about consequences. But he does. When it is someone he loves on the line, Daemon does. 

He loves you. You love him. Why do you have to wait a full moon for Corlys to get here? He is not the one getting married. You don’t need a fancy gown, nor do you need to be wed in a Sept, under a religion that is not yours. 

You look up at Daemon, a mischievous smile starting to form on your face. He looks at you. Not a word is needed. Daemon knows what you are thinking right away. 

His brows pinch together.

“Are you sure?” 

“Daemon.” You say, exasperated. Who does he think he is speaking to? You had not claimed the most dangerous dragon in Westeros because you lacked boldness. 

“Tonight?” Daemon searches your eyes. He finds no hesitation.  

“In the traditions of our houses.” You agree. 

“You understand that if we…” Of course you know. The bedding. Being married usually implies that. The thought fills you with dread and excitement in equal parts. You have been trying very hard not to think of Daemon in this way since the two of you were teenagers. But now, it is not only expected, but encouraged. 

“I know.” 

His hand on your waist tenses. You can feel his grip tighten, greedily. There is so much want in his eyes that it warms your blood. 

“Alright, Lady Confident.” Daemon teases, pressing another kiss to your forehead before letting you go. 

“The dragonpit, tonight. Get us the robes and Viserys.” You point at him, sternly. 

“And what will you get?” He pulls you in again, pressing your bodies flush against each other. You tremble against him, unable to help it. Daemon has such a magnetic pull on you, sometimes you feel like the two of you are never truly apart. He is constantly pulling you to him, into him, even when not in the room. He owns your thoughts, your feelings, your desires. 

But you are not about to tell him that. You like running too much, and by the Seven he likes to chase. 

“Is my presence not enough?” You tease, deftly slipping out of his grip. You start to walk away, hips swaying. Before you are truly out of his reach, you casually speak, as if it were the most normal thing to say. “My riding gear. I intend to ride a dragon tonight.” 

Daemon grabs your wrist, pupils blown. He stops you from leaving. 

“A dragon?”

“My dragon.” You snicker. “I suppose, while we are busy with that, Caraxes and my Cannibal can get to know each other.” 

His joyous laughter chases you all the way to your chambers. You spend the afternoon getting yourself ready. You bathe, soaking in the hot tub until you feel dizzy from the heat. Choosing to elope has made you unable to seek any advice from the only female presence in your life. You doubt Queen Alyssane will take well to the news of what Daemon and you are planning to do. 

Nerves clench in your stomach at the thought of bedding him. It is needed, if you wish to really be wed in the manner of your ancestors, and it has to happen tonight. Otherwise, the tradition would not be complete. 

Having grown around Daemon, you are not fully innocent. Not only have you listened to his exploits, but you also know your body well. What worries you is the fact that he has a lot of experience on you. 

You scrub yourself clean and get up, taking out your secret stash. Pearls are one of Driftmark more prized exports, and you have quite a few. Some have been ground into a fine powder that you apply over your eyelids. You like how the shimmery white contrasts against your brown eyelids, drawing attention to your eyes. 

Some women, especially near Dorne, use black pigment to make their eyelashes look fuller. You have always enjoyed the contrasts more. Velaryons have striking coloring, or so most say. The shimmery silver hair all Valyrians share, with darker skin to offset it and make it pop even more. It’s the same logic you apply to your makeup. 

Once you have scrubbed yourself to your satisfaction, you fret over choosing a shift to wear under the robes. Daemon has sent them to your chambers already, wrapped in a cloth as to not let anyone see what they are. You note that he has selected ones with a red sash, and you frown. You will no longer be a Velaryon after tonight, but you intend to honor your House. 

Perhaps the followers of the Faith of the Seven have the right of it, with the exchange of cloaks. With no Corlys to attend your wedding, you feel oddly adrift. You exchange the red sash for a light blue one. 

Finally, with no other excuse to stall, you put on your black cloak and make your way to the dragon pit. The dragonkeepers barely spare you a glance, used as they are to your antics. 

Caraxes has been brought forth, as has Balerion. Their growls and cries greet you as you step into the lower part of the pit. Your own mount is near, but kept carefully separated. He has an unfortunate tendency of biting other dragons. 

“This is an awful idea.” It is the first thing Viserys says to you, once he sees you approach. “The two of you will kill our grandmother one of these days.” 

“Good evening, Viserys.” You say, taking off your cloak. “Why, thank you for congratulating us.” 

“Thank the gods.” You hear Daemon’s voice before you see him. You turn, finding him dressed in his own set of robes. You had not doubted him for a second. “I thought you were playing a cruel joke on me. That you were… Oh.” 

He finally sees you, dressed in your version of the ceremonial robes. He freezes. 

“You look beautiful.” Daemon says, still a bit stunned. The images of him superpose in your mind. The boy he had been, the man he is now, lips stretching into the most joyful smile you have ever seen. It makes something warm and syrupy sweet nestle inside your chest, covering you in a golden glow.  So of course, he has to be a bit crude. “And all of it mine by the end of the night.” 

Viserys sighs. He looks very put upon, your recently appointed officiant. You decide not to make him wait any longer. Daemon and you marry under the traditions of your Houses that night, with only Viserys and your dragons as your witnesses. 

After the deed is done, palms and lips bloody, you race each other to Daemon’s chambers. The few servants left behind turn to stare, and as you pass, chamber’s doors open. Everyone wants a look at the two troublemakers that are making a ruckus near midnight. Gasps and scandalized murmurs are heard as the onlookers take in your appearance. The runes are painted brightly on your foreheads for all to see if your attires were not damning enough. 

You are sure the news will reach the Queen before the night is over. But as you stop in front of Daemon’s door, you can’t bring yourself to care. He lifts you up into his arms and opens the door with a well-placed kick. 

“Finally.” He says, carefully placing you inside. You laugh. Daemon busies himself with closing the door after the two of you, and it is then that you realize. 

You are married. To Daemon. Your best friend. Your childhood companion. Daemon, rider of Caraxes, the Rogue Prince, Daemon. Fuck. 

Daemon seems to be going through a similar thought process because when he turns to face you, his face is frozen into stunned realization. Now what? His eyes seem to be saying to you. So you step closer. And closer. 

And then his hands are on your waist, and he is kissing you for the first time. 

It’s devastating. There is no other way to describe it. You have been looking at Daemon ever since the two of you met, unable to look away from him, and you finally have his full attention on you. It’s terrifying. His lips move with yours, soft and tender, as if you are something to be treasured. No one knows you as he does, no one could break you as easily as he could. 

You grasp at him like he is your lifeline, hands clinging to his shoulders. There is no finesse in the way you undress him, greedy hands grasping at his robes. Daemon allows you to do so, his hands on your hips steady and calm. It is not until the robes have fallen from his shoulders, exposing his bare skin, that the two of you separate. 

“What do you need?” Daemon asks you, voice low. You look up at him, hoping to see the same desperation you feel reflected in his eyes. What you see takes your breath away. Daemon’s eyes are almost all pupils, the black having swallowed the purple you so love. His lips are swollen from your kisses, mouth slightly agape. “I’m here.” He says, and it sounds wrecked. “I am here.” 

The softness makes you want to cry. You feel overwhelmed with how badly you would like to be close to him. 

“I want… I need…” You articulate, barely. You try to take off your robes, but your hands, so deft at removing his, are slow and stupid when it comes to removing the knots. 

“Let me.” Daemon unties the knots, taking your robes away. His hands wrap around your back, pulling you close. “You are gorgeous.” 

His hands are warm against your ribs, caressing softly. He traces the curves of your waist and hips as if committing them to memory. You do not feel exposed or embarrassed, with Daemon touching you like this. You have belonged to him, heart and soul, since before you knew what the word meant. It’s only right that it is him who you give yourself to. 

Daemon kisses you again, slow and soft. His lips trace your jaw, and then, the shell of your ear. It makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge. 

“I seem to remember you saying something about dragon riding.” He whispers, and you can hear the devious smile he must be sporting in his tone alone. 

Because you are mean, and so much like him, you bite at his naked shoulder. You expect him to yelp or curse, but are fully unprepared for hearing Daemon moan. 

The both of you look at each other, before a giant grin takes over your face. 

“You like that.” You smirk. Daemon’s brows raise.

“So what if I do?” He challenges, with a smirk of his own. You run your nails down his sides, almost experimentally. His eyes almost cross, expression morphing into half pain and half pleasure.  “Seven Hells, you are not allowed to do that!” He complains, and you laugh. 

“I do intend to ride, you know?” You whisper to him, not a hint of shame on your face. 

“Good.” Daemon goes sit on the bed and takes off his breeches. He parts his legs, letting you see his cock for the first time. “Princess, come sit on your throne.” 

You shiver slightly, feeling arousal quickly taking over your best senses. His cock is pink and almost angry looking, perfectly placed for you to sit on his lap and sink on it. You want nothing more than to have him inside you. 

“No.” You say, instead. “Get me ready first.” 

“Come here, then.” He orders, impatiently. “Let me touch you.” 

“You have no manners.” You complain, a bit irked. Daemon has the bad habit of issuing commands, instead of asking. Ever since he was a child, the people around him have yielded to his position or his charm, even to his good looks. Daemon always gets what he wants. 

And you don’t want him to think it includes you. Being taken down a few pegs is healthy, once in a while. So you remain rooted to your spot, naked and confident in your own skin. You start to run your hands along your neck and breasts, tantalizingly. You can feel yourself starting to get wet. 

His eyes track your movements in the same way a man dying of thirst might look at running water. Hungrily, greedily. 

“And you intend to be the one who teaches them to me?” Daemon’s voice comes out much breathier than he probably expects. 

“It is never late to start.” You agree, mischief making your eyes light up. One of your hands pinches your soft buds, getting them hard and alluring. Your breath is heavier, soft little sighs leaving your lips at the stimulation. 

“Fucking… Come here.” Daemon says. You ignore him, running your hands over your breasts. “Please.” He adds, a bit desperate.

You smirk. You take exactly one step towards him. The way he looks at you makes you feel bolder. Your stance widens, one hand dropping between your legs, teasing. 

“Please. Please, by the Gods let me touch you.” He interrupts, before you can do anything more. “Come here, just… I’ll behave.” 

You run your hands over your sides and wait a bit, as if pondering his question. 

“Please.” Daemon repeats. He looks wrecked and you haven’t even touched him. You wonder if this is what he likes about sex, how powerful and in control you can feel knowing that you have another person wrapped around your little finger. 

“I suppose I’ll allow you to get me ready.” You say, very graciously. You make your way to his lap and pull him in for another kiss. 

As soon as your hips are over his, Daemon tries to cheat. He lifts his own hips, trying to grind his erection against your core. You pull at his hair, in warning. He growls against your mouth, and insists on attempting to grind against you. 

You pull back from him, bracing your hands on his knees. Almost on instinct, one of his hands goes to your waist, to steady you. 

“Was that what I asked you to do?” You ask him, frowning. Daemon pouts. 

“I was getting you ready. You are so wet and warm, I bet I could just slide right in.” He complains, much like a scolded child. 

“Really? Then you must not know what getting a woman ready means.” You grin. “Allow me to teach you. Sit back and watch.” 

Daemon growls at you, face slowly starting to flush. You are not sure if he is more enraged or aroused by what he is seeing.  

“You can’t be serious. My balls are turning blue from…” 

“Not my problem.” You answer him, cheerfully. You remain sitting on his lap. The hand he keeps on your waist allows you to not need to support yourself so much. You free one of your hands and direct it to your pearl, where you rub slow, steady circles. 

Under the candlelight, your cunt glistens. You wonder what you must look like to Daemon, wantonly touching yourself on his lap. By the awed look on his face, it must be quite the sight. 

“Do you..?” He licks his lips, throat suddenly dry. “Do you need my help?” 

“Yes. Put a finger inside.” You spread your folds, feeling how slick you are. Daemon groans. 

“Fuck. That’s…” He presses his finger into your hole, slowly. It sinks right in. You sigh, please. Fascinated, Daemon pulls it back a bit, only to push it back inside and feel your walls swallow it. 

“Another. Open me up.” You say, voice a bit shaky. “Curl… Ah. Like that.” No other order is needed. Daemon adds another finger and curls it, a bit mean. It makes you sit up straighter, hands clutching at his shoulders. For a while, nothing exists, except his fingers moving inside you. Want is making you burn up, sweat collecting in the small of your back. You rock your hips against his hand, looking him right in the eyes. 

Daemon’s expression is open in a way you have never seen before. He looks entranced by you, as if he is in the middle of a religious experience. His eyes are fixed on your face, watching your mouth form soft little pants. His other hand is on your hips, aiding your movements. 

“I love you.” He says, sounding a bit broken, a bit in awe. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You press a kiss to his temple. “Ready?” 

Daemon nods, hiding his face on your chest. You grab his erection and line it up with your hole. He hugs you, tighter still, and it’s then that you sink on him. 

You curse, eyes going wide. Daemon lets out a groan. 

“Daemon.” You say, urgently. You feel like he is carving out a space for himself inside of you, as if he had not owned it already. “Daemon.” 

“I know.” He whispers back, rubbing slow circles on your back. He lifts his head and cradles your face, as if you are made of the most fragile porcelain. “My lady wife.”

“My lord husband.” You answer, equally tender. And it is then that you lift your hips and bring them down again. Daemon gives a punched out moan, hands tightening on your hips. 

You push him down to lay flat on the bed, bracing your hands on his chest to get better leverage. You lift yourself, up and down, until you have worked yourself into a frenzy and cannot stop moaning. 

Under you, Daemon has his eyes closed. His mouth is parted open, and he gives soft moans every time you bring yourself down. His hands are curled around your wrists, gently holding you to him. 

It’s not enough. It’s not enough, it feels like you cannot breathe if you are not near him. You need to be as close as you possibly can, and you need it now. 

You lay yourself down on top of him, until your breasts are squished against his chest. Daemon’s eyes open. He hugs you to him, kissing the crown of your head. 

“Thrust your hips.” You say, starting to lavish his throat with kisses. “I need…” You grind your hips against him, his pubic hair rubbing against your pearl just right. With the way you are laying on top of him, Daemon can’t get enough leverage to do anything more than shallowly thrust. You nearly cry from frustration.

“Shh… Just…” He rolls the two of you over, ungracefully. He grinds his hips against yours, with little to no technique. His back is hunched, hair in complete disarray. The blood - drawn runes on his face have smeared, leaving only red lines in their wake. You wonder if you look as fucked out as Daemon does. The thought makes you clench around him, pleasure building up, and up, until one well aimed thrust makes you scream and reach your peak. 

Daemon collapses next to you, his release painting your thighs. There is silence, for a while. Both of you look at each other, sated and exhausted by the day you have had. And suddenly, there is a pounding on the door. 

“I swear to the Seven, Daemon Targaryen, when I get my hands on you…” The Queen screams, and you dissolve into a fit of giggles. 

[calissto]

On Writing Every Day

Possibly the most ubiquitous piece of writing advice: write everyday. Write every day or you’re not a writer, your work has no value, you’ll never get good, you’ll never go pro. Maybe I am at a bit of a disadvantage because I’ve never published a book, but I feel like I have some place to question this motion. 

Don’t write every day. Write often.

Because I agree; writing is like a muscle; you must train it. You have to exercise your vocabulary, your voice, your prose — all as often as you can. It’s essential. But you can do all of these things without gluing yourself to the chair each and every day. Some of us just can’t do that — some of us have obligations; a job, school, sickness, or emergencies. Things come up. And some of us just don’t want to. And that’s okay, too. 

I say write often because it’s a promise you can keep. No matter how pressed for time, you can construct a schedule around often. You can stick to that. Practice becomes joyous instead of overwhelming. You will improve without being weighed down by guilt clouding your judgment, adding on to the already compounding series of worries and doubts you have about your identity as a writer anyway. 

Often can look like this: every other day, a few days a week, a few days a month. Often is up to you. It’s a malleable guideline, and that’s why I like it. It’s about constant practice — routinely coming to dance with your writerly spirit without letting it die nor allowing it to overshadow everything else you are. You can be a writer and other things, too. It’s essential you are other things, too, otherwise you pigeonhole yourself and dull any unique perspective you may bring to the vast, ever-broadening literary table. Have something to share with your peers. Something to bestow. Besides, some of us have dreams besides writing we would like to pursue, and we have every right to pursue them. 

I think writing (well) is so demanding we sometimes forget writing is an incredibly forgiving art. It doesn’t usually feel like it. Writing is difficult (because it is everything) and mystifying and capricious. It feels like the most unforgiving art (because it is: it can be forgiving and unforgiving all at the same time, because it is everything). The muse coquettishly woos us one day then sets us on fire the next. You can have amazing ideas and, propelled by the whirlwind it conjures in your mind, sit down to write and hate everything you put down. The inner critic can be restricting, mean, impossible to satisfy. Plots can get dizzyingly convoluted and messy (and sometimes they don’t come at all! Yay!), wips take years and decades to perfect. You can spend hours, days, weeks, months, years in confusion as to what the fuck you’re even meant to be doing in order to make your story work. Just thinking about all this makes me tired. Writing can be grueling.

But it is also forgiving. 

We can take our time. We can fix our stories again and again and again. We can wait until we're ready for the world to see it.

A contradictory mistress, writing is. The truth is your writing hands will not fall off if you choose to take some time off. You do not really forget to write creatively. Oh, you can get rusty, and it can take some time to get your groove back, but the talent you’ve accumulated (and, perhaps, have been born with) does not evaporate out of thin air just because you step away from your word processor. I, myself, have stepped away from writing for large swaths of time only to return just as strong as I was before. If this is indeed a problem for you, I suggest reading more often — just so you can remain close to writing without actually doing it. You can stay familiar and play with language and characters and plotting without actually doing anything— watch essays on movies and characters. Stay engaged. Don’t feel like your talents will be irrevocably blunted by a break, no matter how long it is.

I often think writers are their own jailers, while other writers you associate with and look up to can function as fellow wardens; what exactly is gonna happen if you don’t write everyday? I’ve come to really detest writing “rules.” There are no rules — they aren’t even rules to be broken. There are guidelines and things that have worked in the past. The trick is to learn what has worked for others, why, and what works for you. Mix and match at your own discretion. The life of a writer is often a solitary, lonesome affair. Not just because you do it yourself, but because you are your own god; a huge part of being a writer is fashioning things for yourself, coming up with your own rules, if you dare to call them as such. You conjure up worlds for your own amusement. So, the way we find ourselves chained to the so-called rules and those who espouse them has become kinda hilarious to me.

Also, go ahead and accept this: a lot of what defines good writing is completely out of your hands. What is popular and lauded as a masterpiece today may be rejected and ignored tomorrow. There are principles to help you bridge the gap of generations — compelling characters, thoughtful plotting, and, oh, idk, basic understanding of storytelling elements etc, but we all will have our own personal talents as writers. Rest assured, you’ll be an acquired taste, so go ahead and study your own talents and strengths as a word person. What are the things you love about writing? What do you like to zero in on? What do you look forward to? Focus on those things, and just try to have a basic grasp of other, essential things.

The point is this: if writing really is that important to you, it will be in your life somehow. You won’t have to make room so much as it will wedge itself into one of the movie theater seats in your mind. Your mind will wander to your wips. You’ll think of your characters at random times. You’ll picture your settings and scenes will just randomly come to you. Don’t worry about it so much! Write often, stay engaged, but if you need a break, take one.

[mochaintherain]

Demense

Summary: You change your team lineup of starter characters. The subsequent Aftermath, revolving around a cryo user.

Word Count: ~1k

CW: Heavy religious themes, implied cultish behavior, (implied?) religious trauma, SAGAU

Add. Tags: Kaeya, Creator!Reader, unreliable narrator, reader is Not present in this story as a character.

Author's Note: Not proofread! I've no idea how to use Tumblr or format on mobile </3 please help me. did I miss something I DUNNO (´_ゝ`) WHERE EVEN AM I anyway kaeya is so babygirl

Never had Kaeya assumed the Gods would favor him. Not after the promise he made, the bonds he shared with both his fathers—his brother, and how easily his patchworked life tore beneath his feet, his right eye a constant reminder of all his failures.

So when Aether, Amber, and Lisa extended a hand toward his figure, purple light enveloping his being, bubbling with warmth that mended the bitterness of his past, and opened his eyes to the heavens—

How could he not become Your believer?

Soon, he would travel the entirety of Mondstat, escaping his duties whilst discovering treasures, receiving divine gifts: goblets, circlets, feathers—and participating in...rather strange rituals. You made him carry a hefty bag of mora and flowers, gems, remants of slain regisvines, to the zenith of Starsnatch Cliff before imbuing him with unknown strength that coarsed through his veins.

Aether called it an "initiation", to forever be acquainted with divine blessings, to be Yours. He affirmed the sole reason he'd been able to save Dvalin, the entirety of Mondstat, was due to You, granting him the privilege of becoming a vessel.

"...Vessel, huh?" The word stuck to his tongue like a bitter saccharine. Even worse--You seemingly vanished, leaving he and his comrades hollowed by Your absence. After a desperate letter and trek sent back home, the reception back in the City of Wind was nothing less than suffocating.

A small gathering of vision wielders greeted them at the gate, welcoming them home. Yet, the sun never penetrated his body. The bite of sheer cold blossomed in his veins, making him tremble with every step he took—the first of many which he had to be conscious of; and breathing, keeping his heart beating, leaving him winded and dizzy. Your gaze took away his autonomy, rendering him a spectator in his own corpse, but You left him with the most joyous of dreams and slumbers; abandoning him forced everything back into his muscles, and he scrambled to remember what it was like to be alive without you. However, that was hardly the worst part.

His friends who cheered at his safety—

their smiles did not meet their eyes.

Instead, replaced was envy, resentment, and the brewing notion that he was a fraud, tricking the Creator and seducing You into loving him. They swirled, in vile concoctions, behind each of their pupils. Yet they paraded around him like he, himself, was divinity. Did they all wish he never came back? Would they tear each other apart for a chance at Your Grace?

Maybe his death was an opportune moment.

Unfortunately, he lived.

"Welcome back, everyone. I'm glad the Creator brought you back safe and sound." Jean bowed slightly, relief written on her lips.

"Hmm...go on and rest for now. Tommorow, you can tell us what all your travels uncovered." Albedo smiled, nodding at him and Lisa in particular.

Klee bounced on the soles of her heels, waving her hands to the weary travelers. "Yay! Kaeya's back! And Amber and Lisa and Mr. Honorary knight!" she cheered, beaming.

"Ah...why don't we all go back to the cathedral? I can heal you all of any injuries!" the deaconess suggested, a strain of a smile forming on her face.

"...Welcome back," Diluc muttered, most likely dragged along by the Acting Grand Master.

"Hey, on the way there, why don't I sing you all a song? No wine in exchange!" The enigmatic bard hummed, giving them all a wink.

Kaeya heaved a ragged breath, forcing a small laugh out his lips. "Sorry, but I think I'll pass. I'd much rather rest at Angel's Share," he responded, ignoring the pointed glare from a certain redhead. "After all, the Creator never afforded us any sort of wine; I'd certainly die if I had to spend another day without it."

"Huh...?" Barbara said, "b-but, Sir Kaeya—"

She was interrupted with a solemn headshake from the librarian.

"None of us are hurt," Lisa reaffirmed, "let him be...We'll tell you everything."

The Calvary Captain huffed, breaking away from the group and stumbling into the tavern, his countenance morphed into the expression he held all those years ago, when he first received his vision.

Haunted.

Nothing had changed since his leave, though there were far less customers than usual. Did the other citizens feel You vanish too? Or was that a curse reserved only for the puppets You deemed fit for control?

"Charles, the strongest, if you please."

Alcohol had left his throat burning, a reprieve from the sudden, chilling, desolation. After his "ascension", he was no longer the same man. In gazing upon him, You stole away a piece of his soul, a void only able to be filled by You and You only.

It wasn't too long before the bar's door opened again.

"What are you up to, Kaeya?" Diluc stayed near the entrance, not bothering to move toward the stools.

"I'm not in the mood," he hissed, downing his glass too quickly to savour.

Diluc forewent the usual quips he'd aim toward his brother, settling in a silent scrutiny. He was never one to favor the Gods. They stood in one another's solitude, drinking until the "Darknight Hero" woke to dusk.

Then, Kaeya was truly alone. Truly, utterly alone, with not even the eyes of which he'd come to expect. After all, he, a barely devoted follower, could never stay in the Divine's gaze forever.

Even so, the ache in Kaeya's heart screamed that the Gods had forsaken him again; being a vessel was far more merciful than being 'Kaeya'. Because if he wasn't a vessel, he was emptier than he'd ever been.

And when Lisa wrote to him, musing about how his Prototype rancour ended up in the hands of the Yuheng of the Liyue Qixing, how strong she was—he knew he'd been discarded.

...

If he were more pious, would You deign to look at him once again?

[maddstermind]

Find the Word!

Yay another one!!!! Thank you @veneritia!!

hand

     After a long silence, Bella began to retract her hand, nerves visible on her face. "I'm sorry, is this not the right greeting? That's how I remember it…"      Snapping out of his thoughts, Addison jumped to grab her hand with both of his and shook it eagerly. "No, no, that's correct. I'm sorry, I'm just… I never expected to find you here. To find you at all!" He laughed, joyous, as Bella looked on, confused but smiling.

window

     Adam fell through the dim winter sunlight coming in from the large windows of the third floor. He reached for Maurelle, for anything, as he fell through the air. A hundred students watched his descent. A hundred students heard his scream. A hundred students saw him hit the stairs. They did not hear the sickening crack of his skull opening like an egg on the steps, but they all heard the deafening silence that followed. Nobody breathed; least of all Investigator Adam Hale.

turn

     "We can't go knocking on walls," Willow said, luckily stopping Spencer from doing just that. "Teachers will come out and yell at us."      "Unless we can turn invisible?" Spencer suggested, giving a hopeful look to Maurelle and Christie.      Maurelle shook her head, and Christie looked away, reaching for the pendant of her necklace. "That's a harder spell," Maurelle explained. "If we wanted to move around, we'd need to link it to an object. Times four for all of us, or we'd have to all link arms…"      "Dang," Spencer pouted. "And here I thought having a bunch of mages around might pay off."

sea

     "I put most of it in here," Ignacio patted a large box. "Didn't know what else to do with it. Tried to sell it, but no one would buy, 'cause no one knew what it was! Just sea junk, they said. Bah! I know sea junk, and this ain't that."

I shall tag @sentfromwolves, @k-v-briarwood, @sunset-a-story, @worldsfromhoney, and anyone else who wants! (And you are more than welcome to tag me back!)

Your words are greeting, scream, pendant, and junk!

[thelunarbar]

Let Me Be Your Shelter - IceMav

Part two of what I have dubbed my Patience Series.

In which: Mav and Ice receive their first foster placement.

Word count: 2167

A/N: Part two! Yay! There will be a third part so be on the look out. There’s no real timeline for this other than sometime around 2013. And as usual no beta we die like Goose.

TW: mentions of death(minor characters), illusions to abuse(very subtle, but definitely there). Please let me know if you see other things I should tag.

-/-/-/-

They receive another call less than a month later. A boy this time. Robbie. He’s just eight and has been in the system for a little over two years. His father passed away three years before and his mother had been in and out of rehab since.

Mav spends the day setting up their second guest room as a boy’s bedroom. It comes much more naturally than the girl’s room did. They walls are a mossy green color, the bedspread is blue with little dinosaurs all over it. A three shelf book case is filled with easy chapter books and eyewitness books on various topics as well as a few comic books and graphic novels. Hopefully something will catch Robbie’s eye.

He finds Ice’s old globe in their closet and puts it on the desk as well as a lamp. And a large orb night light that projects stars onto the ceiling.

He wants to do more, but he knows it’ll have to wait until Robbie settles in a little. So he sighs and heads downstairs to bug Ice until Robbie shows up.

-/-/-/-

Ice gives up on trying to read after ten minutes of Mav pacing in the living room. He understands why Mav is so tense, but the pacing drives him crazy. Encouraging Mav to sit doesn’t help. So he suggest they make cookies instead and grins at the way Mav’s eyes light up.

“That’s a great idea!” Mav grabs his hand and drags him into the kitchen.

Ice is a firm believer in the clean-as-you-go policy. Mav quite obviously is not. The sink is full of dirty dishes and there’s flour on the floor when they’re done, but cookies are in the oven and Mav seems much more relaxed so Ice is willing to let it go this time. He presses a kiss to Mav’s temple.

“You’re doing the dishes.” He says as he heads for the living room. Mav pouts, but loves to the sink to start washing up.

-/-/-/-

Robbie is tall for his age with neatly combed brown hair and big eyes, which only look bigger behind his glasses. His clothes hang off his thin frame, but are too short in the sleeves and pant legs.

His social worker pushes him through the door, drops his duffel bag and hands a manila folder to Ice before leaving with the most insincere apology Mav has ever heard.

“Hey, Robbie. I’m Tom.” Ice introduces himself. Robbie stands a little straighter and offers Tom his hand.

“‘M Bob.” He says softly. “Not Robbie. Please.” Ice nods and shakes Bob’s hand.

“I’m Pete.” Pete shakes Bob’s hand as well and then grabs the handle of his duffel bag. “Wanna see your room?” Bob nods and follows the two of them upstairs.

About halfway up the stairs Bob stops, transfixed by the collection of framed photos on the wall. One in particular seems to have caught his eye, Ice and Mav in their dress uniforms on their wedding day. Ice and Mav share confused looks and Mav goes back down two steps to look at the photo with Bob.

“That was our wedding.” While they’re wedding was obviously a joyous occasion thinking about it still makes Mav a little sad because Bradley hadn’t been there. Had refused to come. Mav shakes those thoughts away.

Bob seems to come out of his stupor then. He turns to face Mav, eyes holding more sorrow than any child’s should. Mav wonders what’s running through his head.

“Sorry.” He mumbles.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.” Mav assures him.

-/-/-/-

They leave Bob to get settled in his room, but after fifteen minutes Mav is antsy again so he piles the cookies on a plate and goes back upstairs.

Bob is perched on the edge of his bed reading one of the eyewitness books. He jumps when Mav knocks on the open door, but doesn’t say anything.

“Cookie?” Mav offers, holding out the plate. Bob smiles just a little and nods, taking a cookie from the plate. “I won’t tell if you take two.” Mav tells him, smiling. Bob grabs another cookie. Mav sets the plate on the nightstand and glances at the book Bob had been looking at. Flying Machine.

“You like planes?” Mav asks, nodding at the book. Bob nods. “I’m a pilot. And so is Tom.” Bob looks up at him, eyes wide.

“Really?” He asks, voice soft.

“Yup. In the navy.” Bob takes in this information as he begins nibbling at his second cookie. “Ever been in a plane?”

“A big one. Once.”

“Flying in the back just isn’t the same as being the pilot.” Mav picks up the book and flips it open. “Maybe someday I can take you up.” Mav smiles at the way Bob’s eyes light up.

-/-/-/-

Dinner is a quiet affair. Bob doesn’t talk, other than to thank them for the meal and disappears back to his room as soon as his plate is clean.

After dinner is finished and the dishes dealt with Ice and Mav settle in the living room. Ice in his overstuffed brown leather rocker/recliner and Mav on the edge of the couch hunched over the coffee table to work on a puzzle while Ice reads aloud from a copy of Pride and Prejudice that has clearly seen better days.

Puzzles aren’t Mav usual taste, but Ice likes to read aloud so Mav has to have something to do with his hands.

About eight Ice declares he’s tired and going to bed. Mav follows him to their room and flops back onto the bed while Ice goes about his nighttime routine.

“What’d you do with Bob’s file?” Mav asks, lifting his head to watch Ice strip off his shirt.

“It’s in my office.” Mav hums and pushes himself off the bed. He disappears for a moment to grab the file from Ice’s office.

Back in their room he drops down onto the end of the bed and flips the file open. He scans the first page, just general info about Bob, notes on his health, he has mild asthma and a very serious allergy to any and all free nuts. The second page is more personal information, including how his father died. Several things click into place at once.

“Shit.” Mav says softly, “Ice, his dad was in the navy.” Ice steps out of their en-suite bathroom with his toothbrush still hanging out of his mouth.

“Thit.” He mutters around his toothbrush. He steps back into the bathroom to spit and comes back without his toothbrush. He sits down beside Mav to look at the file.

“Died in an accident on a carrier three years ago. No specifics.” Mav tells him even though he knows Ice is reading it himself now.

“And his mom’s got a pill problem.” Ice sounds so forlorn, but Mav gets it. This poor kid just needs someone to be there consistently. Mav notes that there’s a phone number for the rehab center Bob’s mom is at and a note that says Bob calls after school Tuesdays and Thursday and Saturday early evening.

-/-/-/-/-

Mav wakes around two am. A common occurrence these days. Often woken by aches and pains and sometimes the occasional nightmare.

Tonight it’s pain. His back is twinging like crazy so he stands, being careful not to wake Ice, and does a couple stretches in the hopes of loosening his muscles. When that doesn’t work he shuffles out of the bedroom intent on making himself a cup of tea and sitting on the heating pad for awhile.

He stops when he sees the kitchen light on. Bob’s awake too. He shuffles down the stairs slowly, hand holding his lower back. Times like this he feels much older than he really is.

In the kitchen Bob, sans glasses, is on the counter on his knees, glass held in his hand. Mav can’t help his chuckle. Bob jumps and the glass slips from his fingers. It hits the ground, bounces twice and then cracks in two, top and bottom separating almost perfectly. Bob stares at Mav with wide eyes full of fear. He looks like he’s about to cry and Mav instantly feels bad.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, ok? It’s just a glass. I promise I’m not upset.” He smiles in what he hopes is a reassuring way and tries to bend to pick up the broken glass. He doesn’t even get halfway down before gasping in pain and slowly straightening back up. “Fuck.” He hisses softly, massaging at his lower back. “I’m too young to feel this old.” He tells Bob. Bob just blinks at him owlishly and shifts from kneeling to sitting before sliding off the counter. He collects the broken glass and throws it away.

“Sorry.” Bob finally mumbles around a yawn. “Jus’ need a drink.”

“You want some hot chocolate?” Mav offers. Bob hesitates for just a second before nodding.

“Please.” He mumbles before settling into one of the dining chairs. Mav grimaces at the pots and pans cupboard for a second before turning to look at Bob.

“Can you grab a pot for me? Bending’s a bit of a problem right now.” Bob nods and comes to grab a pot. He hands it to Mav and then takes his seat at the table again. Mav hums to himself as he pulls cocoa powder and sugar from the cabinet. When all the ingredients are combined in the pot and coming to a boil Mav puts the kettle on for his tea.

When the cocoa is done Mav pours it into a mug and sets the mug in front of Bob. He then pours the bowling water over his tea bag.

“I’m gonna go sit in the living room, you’re welcome to join me.” Mav gives Bob another smile before walking out of the kitchen, hand still massaging his aching back. He settles on the couch with a groan, flicks on the table lamp, and shoves the heating pad behind him before turning it on.

His heating pad is just starting to feel warm when Bob joins him. He kneels beside the coffee table and sets his mug down.

“Thank you.” He says softly. Mav nods and takes a sip of his tea. By the time he finishes cocoa Bob is yawning and rubbing his eyes. “Miss my mama.” He murmurs. Mav’s heart clenches and he doesn’t know what to say. Bob looks up at him with glassy eyes.

“I’m sorry, kiddo. I promise we’ll call her tomorrow afternoon.” Is the best he can up with. Unexpectedly Bob begins to sob. Mav sets his mug down and leans forward with a soft groan. “C’mere buddy.” He gestures for Bob to come to him. Still crying Bob gets to his feet and rounds the coffee table. He flinches a little when Mav reaches out, but doesn’t hesitate to sink to the hug Mav pulls him into. He sobs Mav’s shoulder, sinking into him. Mav rubs his back. “I know it’s hard.”

“Jus’ wanna go home.” Bob cries and Mav holds him a little tighter. He can feel a wet spot growing on his shoulder, but he doesn’t care. “Jus’ want Mama.” Bob fists Mav’s shirt in both hands.

They shift eventually so that Bob is sitting in Mav’s lap allowing Mav to relax against his heating pad again. They stay like that until Bob cries himself to sleep, still gripping Mav’s shirt in both hands. Mav continues rubbing circles on Bob’s back while sipping at his tepid tea.

Eventually he nods off as well, Bob held securely in his arms, head at an angle sure to give him a crick in his neck.

And that’s how Ice finds them four hours later.

-/-/-/-

That afternoon Bob calls his mom from the landline and the smile that breaks across his face when she answers warms Mav’s heart.

“Hi, Mama!” Bob says. There’s a beat of silence while his mom replies and then, “mmhm. I’m with Tom and Pete now. They’re takin’ good care of me. Uh-huh. I promise. I know.” He’s quiet for several seconds. “Miss you, Mama.” He says softly, eyes glassy with unshed tears. “When are you comin’ to get me so we can go home?” Whatever she says makes the first tears fall and Mav wants nothing more than to pull Bob into his arms again. “I understand. Ok. Uh-huh. I love you too, Mama.” And then he hands the phone back to Mav.

“D’you wanna hug?” Mav offers, holding his arm out. Bob accepts the invitation and starts to cry. It only lasts a minute though and then he’s wiping tears off his face and asking if he can go to his room which of course Mav allows him to do.

-/-/-/-

The rest of the afternoon is mostly quiet. Bob stays in his room and Mav does housework. And then Bradley shows up, making what was already an emotionally draining day even worse.

-/-/-/-

Tag list! Let me know if you’d to be added so you know when I post more parts.

@pollyna

[palaceofpassion]

How about Pinkie Pie suggests a Truth Or Dare at Twilight's place. Mainly for when Spike walks by she can "coincidentally" ask him to join in with them. Spike would feel weird at that but accept it since it is Pinkie Pie and Twilight Sparkle suggesting he join in.

When Twilight had her sleepovers, Spike made special note to stay out of the way. Unless he was offering them refreshments. It was the least he could do after all...

From the kitchen he could hear the laughing, the joyous ruckor. And despite himself he found that he was longing to be a part of it. "Bad Spike, it's best this way. Yeah... you're alright. You have Twilight."

Calming himself he headed back, a tray in hand with various fruity drinks. "Hello. I've brought refreshments." He kept his tone leveled.

Something no one really knew about him, was that he actually hated speaking that way. The only time he didn't was when he was alone with Twilight or Celestia. But he needed it, to help him stay level headed at all times.

He could feel the stares from the girls, the careful gazes, the way they made sure that he wasn't going to get anywhere close to them.

So he knew when to take the pull, "Here you go Twi." He placed the tray close to her, so that way he could keep his distance.

"Spikey!" Pinkie's outburst caught everyone off Guard, Spike included. "We were going to play Truth or Dare, do you wanna join us?"

Jaws hung open and SPike was ready to decline, but then Twilight had to say something, "Yes! Please join Spike. You can't always be stuck in your room all the time." She shifted to the side, patting the floor between Pinkie and herself, calling him forward.

He made careful note to watch the other girls. He could tell there was a various level of interest, from dangerous glances form Rainbow Dash, to not comfortable with looking at him from Fluttershy.

"I think I'll pa..."

"No Darling, I think... I think it would be good to get to know you better."

Rarity wasn't sure where this was coming from... but she could see that he was sad. Even if they were scared of him. And if Pinkie could get over her cowardice, then so could she, right?

"Now hold on! This is a girls night!" Rainbow interjected, glaring at Rarity.

"Darling, he's a young boy, I don't think havi-"

"I'm uh... only 3 years younger than Twi. I'm not really a young boy..."

Spike was of age after all, at least by Equestrian rules. Though... he wasn't exactly a Pony. So his age was a bit confusing even for him.

"Oh!"

"Wait then why are you so short?"

He wasn't sure who said it, but Spike didn't feel like answering.

"Girls." Twilight kept a level gaze, each of them simmering down. "Please Spike? For me?"

Spike sucked in some air.

"Or me!" Pinkie joined in, grabbing his hand.

His eyes closed, "Okay... just. Please nothing personal."

"Yay!"

"Thanks Spike."

"Thank you darling."

Spike... wasn't sure where to go from here. He could tell it was going to be along evening... but it... it was nice not being alone.

[sxfterhearts]

30. [2:21 pm]

➳ pairing: jaebeom x reader

➳ genre/warnings: just fluff, idol!jb, stylist!reader

➳ word count: 844 words

➳ summary: 30. “One more chapter,”

➳ author's note: here's a short drabble (below 1k! yay!) been researching for yug's series and rly missed writing!! this is inspired by tourlog ep22 in berlin :) please enjoy, even if it's short 😘

//

"Excuse me, are you Def, by any chance? It’s just that," You paused briefly to catch your breath after the short sprint towards the riverbank. You approached the male carefully and knelt behind his seated figure. His nose was buried deep in a book, completely shut off from his surroundings. "You look an awful lot like my most favourite artist in the world."

Jaebeom emitted a low chuckle at your playfulness. You even scored a glimpse of his raised cheeks from behind his facemask and thin-rimmed glasses. The knowledge that you lifted his spirits did wonders to your already joyous mood, brightening your smile even further. You knew how much Jaebeom needed today to recuperate from post-concert fatigue and the head-splitting migraines he complained about for days. It was a wonder that he didn’t pass out in the dressing room when you helped him out of his elaborate costume and handed him his final, casual outfit for the night. The man had sheer determination and mental strength, of which you never failed to commend and praise him for.

"When will you be done?" You asked. "The boys are thinking of joining the buskers, the one with a guitar. Apparently the loser of rock paper scissors will sing Shape of You."

He turned to you, his eyes soft and pleading as he took in your features. It was refreshing to see you outside of work, without your frazzled expression and knitted eyebrows. He always had to resist the urge to soothe your nerves with a reassuring kiss whenever you busied yourself with fixing his buttons or picking out non-existent pieces of lint. Sometimes, Jaebeom swore that being the head stylist of seven chaotic boys who refused to stay still was more physically and mentally taxing than being their leader. At least he didn’t have to worry too much about last minute wardrobe mishaps, amongst other things. "One more chapter, please?"

You obliged, of course, with a nod of your head. "Do you mind if I take a couple of pictures? The view here is breathtaking."

"Go ahead," Jaebeom cocked his head towards the film camera sitting idly beside his crossed legs. "Are you sure it's the view that's breathtaking or something else? Someone else?" He teased with a hidden smirk, flipping a page of his book.

You shook your head in disbelief. "Lim Jaebeom, I thought you were feeling unwell. Clearly I was mistaken."

"Trust me, if I was fully recovered I would've volunteered to sing that Ed Sheeran song for you. What was your favourite again? Perfect? No, it's Thinking Out Loud, right? The lyrics you scribbled in my notebook?"

You knew which incident he was referring to. It happened ages ago, before the two of you got together. You were tipsy and were thinking of ways to confess, which led to clumsy sentences scribbled on an open notebook. Yet, you pretended to pay him no mind as you shifted around to find the right angle, trying to capture the back of his broad shoulders with the charming waters of River Spree in the background. Thankfully, the Berlin skies had been kind enough on their rest day, granting the boys pleasant weather. The dazzling afternoon sunshine illuminated the side of Jaebeom's face as his hand came up to push back his long fringe. You captured that exact moment with a swift click of a button.

"How did it go again?" Jaebeom hummed the beginnings of the chorus softly under his breath, folding the top of the page as he did so. "When my hair's all gone and my memory fades. And the crowds don't remember my name,"

You scoffed lightly at that, resting a palm on his shoulders. "No, not likely. They'll remember you, always."

"When my hands don't play the strings the same way, oh oh," Jaebeom directed an affectionate gaze towards you and held your hand in his. His thumb stroked your palm softly, tenderly. "You know I will still love you the same."

You pointed the camera towards him, your finger poised on the shutter release. Jaebeom pressed his warm, mask-covered lips against your skin, just as you pressed the camera button. A bashful smile worked its way upon your lips. "It's I know you will still love me the same, silly."

"Way to ruin the moment, genius. Either way they're both true, am I wrong?" Jaebeom lifted an eyebrow expectantly.

You hummed in agreement. "True," You replied, circling your arms around his upper body and resting your head against his shoulder. It was an action that you would never in a million years dream to perform publicly, especially not in Korea. Being on tour on the other side of the world had its perks, you supposed. It was extremely liberating to be within such close proximity with your lover. A part of you, the part that was still a love-struck teenager, rejoiced in your blatant display of affection.

The gentle nuzzle of Jaebeom's nose against your cheek suggested that perhaps he too was cherishing this rare moment together, wishing that you two could stay like this forever.

[liannyeong]

i think this is the end (we're different)

Summary: han jiyeon fell for park jinyoung in almost the same way as any other girl out there. what's so different about her, right?

Word count: 4795

Pairing: Jinyoung X OC

Warning(s): Mutual pining, fluff

A/N: Happy belated birthday to my bias wrecker (T_T) Park Jinyoung ~ Also, yay for a new completed fic since June 2020 lol. The title is from a line in DAY6′s Tick Tock because I’ve been listening to all their songs and covers non-stop and it seems fitting :’(

"rising actor park jinyoung has made the headlines for another hit drama in the year 2020--"

jiyeon thinks jinyoung has it easy. he has a pool of opportunities ready for him. he doesn't need to go through the trouble of uncertainty or instability. he's a star; everyone wants him.

jiyeon stares at the screen, the words from the reporter just goes over her head. she's happy for jinyoung, of course. she has always liked his mannerisms through the shows he appeared on. she always thought that anyone who dates park jinyoung is lucky. well, isn't dating a celebrity a kind of fantasy that one can only daydream? who wouldn't want to? the top star has the luxury to pamper her with gifts. whatever she needed, she just had to say it and he would get it for her.

but han jiyeon has never been a materialistic person. she is attracted to actor park jinyoung not because of his wealth or fame, but because of his personality. the way he was courteous to the people around him, the way he takes care of them even in the littlest of things. the way he pays his full attention on the ones who are speaking. or his calming voice. or the cute wrinkles around his eyes when he smiles. han jiyeon fell for park jinyoung in almost the same way as any other girl out there.

what's so different about her, right?

she reckons it's easy for him to move on too. jinyoung can easily find another girl to date. it’ll be easy for him to find another one to fill her space. he doesn't need a han jiyeon in his life. after all, what is she but a photographer who once worked with him?

---

jinyoung regrets the words he spat the moment he leaves her apartment. it has been a long day of filming. he's already struggling his work schedule with his lack of sleep. it's hard to control your emotions when you're dead grumpy and tired. it's no surprise that he lashed at the female with her unnecessary comments. but as he drives back to his own home, he can't help the ringing of her voice in his ears.

"you wouldn't need to choose between me or your career if i was the right one."

she looked so broken when she said it. why did jinyoung only realize it now? unless his memory fails, her body language showed how vulnerable she was. one arm crossed around her stomach, the other just dangling by her side. her voice was small, her eyes were looking at anywhere else but not him.

but he had to response in the worst way possible.

"then there's no reason for us to see each other anymore. we're done."

his tone was so cold, as if he had no emotions for her. jinyoung just spat those words and left. but now, regret blooms in his chest and he wishes he could turn back time.

he doesn't know what went down between them, or when exactly it all started. yet, he hasn't given himself the time to ponder over it. perhaps he gave himself the excuse that there is no time in his busy schedule. so he chucks it away, day after day, until it turns into weeks and months.

just like that, six months have gone since han jiyeon and park jinyoung broke up.

---

"rising actor park jinyoung is confirmed to be dating his co-star jeon sonee--"

jiyeon's heart hurts. the news channel shows jinyoung with the girl in tow. they are speculated to be on a date at night,  smiling wide, looking great together. jinyoung truly has moved on. fairly easily too, just as she expected.

jiyeon reckons it makes sense. they spend a lot of time together on set. they get to know more about each other as the filming goes on. they've even worked on a few projects together, the casting staff finding their chemistry perfect. it is unsurprising that they could develop feelings for each other.

jiyeon shouldn't be jealous. how can she when she was the one who suggested their break-up?

"i'm only a threat to your career. maybe the person you were meant for is someone who wouldn't jeopardize your career."

she only said it because she couldn't bear living with a man who hadn't been around for her. she wanted jinyoung to placate her, soothe her. she wanted jinyoung to say that they'll work it out. but she didn't think of the possibility that maybe, he was sick and tired of her endless worries. that he could have been waiting for the right moment to end things, but never got the chance. she was the one who propose their relationship to end. she doesn't deserve to be jealous of jinyoung's new love interest.

still, jiyeon wonders. why does it seem that she is the only one still unable to move on? how is it possible for jinyoung to get on so quickly? did he love her at all? or were all those lies, disguised beneath his actor mask? or was jiyeon just another experience on his list, so that he can portray emotions better on screen

no, don't put yourself down, jiyeon scolds herself. whatever that has passed, let it stay as good memories.

she loves him dearly, but their story wasn't meant to last long.

---

jinyoung is dressed handsomely in a suit. it's an acquaintance's wedding that he is invited to -- one of the art directors he worked closely with in the past.

he sees familiar faces, greeting all of them politely. but upon setting his eyes on a particular person, his breath stops.

han jiyeon.

of course, she's invited to the wedding. how can he forget? it's her colleague's wedding.

jiyeon has her hair tied in a low ponytail, some strands intentionally left loose to frame her face. she's donned in a light purple cold shouldered dress. the chiffon material flows elegantly as she walks. the man watches as she congratulates the groom, her smile is still beautiful in jinyoung's eyes.

he once dreamt of proposing to jiyeon. he once dreamt of building a home for the both of them. he wanted to lead a life with her by his side. but perhaps, such dreams are not meant to be achieved. perhaps, such dreams are for another man, not him.

---

there is no mistaking that jinyoung is here, in the same room as her. jiyeon can recognize that eye crinkles, that unique hahaha anywhere in the world. she may have stiffened at the realization that they're the closest they've ever been since their break-up. but she tries to play it cool. she may not have been trained to act, but having dated an actor, she may have picked up a thing or two.

the guests prepare for a cascade of group photos, neatly categorized according to the type of connections that the newlywed couple has. coincidentally, jiyeon ends up a row in front of jinyoung and his plus one.

"jiyeon-ssi," he greets formally, in the midst of aligning themselves in an orderly fashion.

she bows politely. "hello, jinyoung-ssi."

right, this is how they are. this is how they've always been. something like strangers in the public, but intimate behind closed doors. they've always kept their distance whenever they're seen together, not even an inch close. they don't even do any car dates as popularized by other celebrities. that's the difference between her and sonee, she realizes.

"hello, jiyeon-ssi," greets jinyoung's plus one. it's only now that jiyeon turns to look at her directly.

how insanely pretty, jiyeon mutters grudgingly in her head. the actress' hair is swept to one side, a shiny silver pin clipped to her fringe. she wears a baby pink dress that ends just past her knee caps, a string tied around her small waist. jiyeon can't help but think that sonee just came straight out of a webtoon. god, she can't help but think that jinyoung and sonee make a good couple too.

jiyeon tries not to think about it too much. after all, it's over, and they've come here to celebrate another couple's joyous occasion. so jiyeon puts on her most friendly side.

---

"ah, so you're the jeon sonee," jiyeon smiles. "congratulations on your relationship." jinyoung feels his stomach churn. jiyeon's smiles are wide but he can't tell the real emotions behind it. is she genuinely happy for him? or is there spite beneath her words? "you do seem like jinyoung's type," she chuckles.

jinyoung hopes she knows it's not true. he's never had a type. he used to say that the person he likes is his type. but jiyeon is the one who changed it all. jinyoung has never felt at ease with a person as much as with her. they clicked instantly, and they are so similar in their tastes in music, books and movies. there's no way he can find another like han jiyeon.

sonee smiles abashedly, tugging onto jinyoung's arm out of embarrassment. the man doesn't miss the way jiyeon eyes that movement.

"everyone, look at the camera!" instructs the main photographer.

jiyeon turns back, making a quick fix to her dress and hair. jinyoung can't help but stare at the crown of her head. how is it possible that someone is so close yet so far away? how is it possible that the person he spent his days with is suddenly a stranger? what went wrong, really?

"one! two--"

jinyoung flicks his eyes to the photographer, just in time before the flash goes off. they take a couple more shots before they are allowed to go back to their seats.

jiyeon turns around. "it was nice meeting you, sonee-ssi. have a great night," she politely says. then she faces jinyoung, not quite meeting his eyes, "and you too, jinyoung-ssi.”

---

"i think we should cast celebrity couple park jinyoung and jeon sonee for our upcoming pictorial," jaebeom, a creative director and jiyeon's supervisor, suggests during a meeting.

jiyeon stiffens at the idea. but her silence goes unnoticed by the excited murmur of the team.

"looking at this month's concept, i do think this two celebrities match it perfectly," jaebeom further expands. "besides, they're a hot topic in the entertainment industry now. it would be a waste to not use the chance!"

that earns nods from various members.

"that's true..." jiyeon hesitantly responds.

"jiyeon-ssi," the said girl flinches when her name is suddenly called. jaebeom doesn't inquire about her zoning out. "we both worked with jinyoung before. surely, i can trust you to contact him?"

jiyeon nods slowly. "i'll do my best, sir."

"very well!" jaebeom claps his hands together. "let's confirm the concept now--"

jiyeon breezes through the meeting, heart heavy with anxiety at having to work with jinyoung. she lets out a sigh.

---

when jinyoung heard from his manager that jiyeon came forth with a photoshoot offer, he didn't know what to make out of it. was it a company decision? or did jiyeon suggest working with jinyoung again? or... did jiyeon wanted to see him again?

no, jinyoung scolded himself mentally. he shouldn't put weird ideas in his head. what they had is now a thing of the past. jiyeon would have moved on. she must have. why else was she able to maintain that cool composure when they met during the wedding? why else was she able to treat sonee that kindly? jiyeon must have gotten over him. there can't be any other explanation.

"sure, hyung. i should be able to accommodate to jiyeon-ssi's project," jinyoung answered finally.

but now, breathing in jiyeon's studio, jinyoung feels out of place. he used to frequent here, especially when jiyeon works late into the night, when all the staff has gone home. no one knew of their relationship, not even their close colleagues. heck, jinyoung even made sure to hide from his manager.

"are you okay?" sonee pipes up next to him, having done her make-up and changed into the model clothes. "you seem a little tense."

"my schedules have been a little tight this week," jinyoung lies smoothly, adding a tired smile as extra measure.

"you can do it, jinyoung," sonee smiles sweetly at him, pumping her fists in the air as a gesture to give him strength.

jinyoung can't help but laugh heartily. "how cute my sonee is," he coos at her, pinching her cheek lightly. she whines--

there'a clear of a throat and jinyoung's smile nearly drops when he sees jiyeon. she pretends as if she didn't see anything, only casts jinyoung a brief glance before bringing up a notepad, briefing the couple about the concept and the poses she'd like them to do.

"just be natural," jiyeon ends the conversation. "just like how you two are, in your own bubble."

jinyoung can only nod.

---

she says that so easily but she's the one who's suffering alone. directing her ex-lover with his new partner to pose in a certain way, watching them gaze at each other in such a loving manner... how can her heart not crumble in sadness? her heart can't bear the pain. the way jinyoung looks at sonee is the same as how he used to look at her: that pure happiness and love. why, oh, why does the universe want to hurt her like this?

yet, amidst it all, jiyeon has to maintain her professionalism. she can't crack underneath all these romantic shots. she can't drop everything and run off, no matter how much she wants to.

in one particular setting, jiyeon has jinyoung resting his head on sonee's lap, his legs dangling over the arm of the couch. they look at each other, eyes smiling along. jiyeon can't help but feel the swell in her chest. she has to consciously control her breathing, to even it out.

jinyoung used to lay on her lap as he goes through his drama script. in the meantime, jiyeon would sketch out a particular storyboard idea for her project on the arm of the couch. that was how they spent their free days together, in comfortable silence. when he's tired of the lines, jinyoung would bury his face into her stomach, craving for her attention. and jiyeon always ends up giving in, after which they would just spend the rest of the day cuddling on that small couch, watching whatever show they randomly pick.

but now, times have changed. such memories don't matter anymore, especially not to jinyoung. it would have been replaced with new ones. they no longer exist in his mind. any emotional attachment would have been long gone from his heart.

jiyeon shakes herself from such thoughts. she brings up her camera and snaps away.

---

"representatives for actor park jinyoung and actress jeon sonee have confirmed that the celebrity couple has parted ways--"

"actor park jinyoung releases a statement of hiatus. netizens react."

user jl***09:

lol a coward running away from the media

user st4njinn1e:

i'm so sad... i have been a fan of jinyoung and his acting is so good, i'm sad that he'll be on hiatus... i hope he has a good break :(

user se0nii:

i always felt that it was a one-sided relationship between jinyoung and sonee... it seems like sonee was the only one in love.

user ilypjy94_:

stop with all your assumptions. we don't know what went down between the two of them. let's just support them with the best we can!

jinyoung's phone doesn't stop blowing up: media outlets wanting to know the reason for the breakup, some tarnishing his reputation. some of his fans even turning their backs on him. the pressure from the society is too much for him to take. he tries to block it out, but it's too difficult when you're a celebrity. your privacy is always at risk, paparazzi and stalker fans camping near his home. he doesn't even feel safe in his own home, he can't be himself and let loose.

his screen lights up again, at another message. despite telling himself not to check his phone, it's a habit that is difficult to break.

from han jiyeon:

hello jinyoung, this is han jiyeon. i saw the news... just wanted to check if you're okay?

jinyoung stares at his screen. it's from jiyeon. they haven't contacted each other in person for so long. jinyoung didn't delete her number off. and from the looks of it, jiyeon didn't either. she must have assumed jinyoung did with the way she introduced herself first.

jinyoung bites his lip. how should he reply? he wants to spill out everything that has been contained inside, but it'll be too much for the listener. besides, as a high profile celebrity, there are only a handful of people he can trust. jiyeon is one of them.

a string of messages pops up on his lockscreen.

from han jiyeon:

it's okay if you don't reply. i just want you to know that it'll be fine. the media will leave you alone soon. take a mental break, or travel to somewhere, away from the media. perhaps it'll give you peace from all the noise. you're a strong person, park jinyoung. i believe you can get through this. you're not one to give up so easily. just look at how far you've come, the awards you received.

take your time to heal, jinyoung. we may not have been in close contact for so long, but... you listened to my problems back then. i can lend you a listening ear if you ever need one.

i hope you find happiness again, jinyoung. have a good night.

jinyoung tears up at the message. how can jiyeon be so kind to him? how is it that she knows the right things to say, the right words he needed to hear? it has been two years since their breakup, how is it that she still knows him well?

jinyoung shuts his eyes and sinks back into his bed, phone clutched to his chest. he empties his mind, pushes any thoughts away and sleeps away.

---

jiyeon held no expectations that jinyoung would reply. what is she, but a thing of the past for him? she knows this and yet, she goes out of her way to drop him a message. out of goodwill? out of worry? or out of pure concern, jiyeon doesn't know herself. jinyoung may not even read it. god, he might have even blocked her number.

which is why she was surprised when she received a message from jinyoung, asking if her address is still the same. an hour later, jinyoung appeared at her doorstep with food in hand.

and now, they're lounging at her dining table, talking as if no time has passed. as if nothing has changed. as if nothing happened between them.

"i'm glad you're feeling better," jiyeon says.

jinyoung smiles, though his eye crinkles doesn't show. "thank you, jiyeon, for listening."

"it's fine. we all need someone to listen sometimes," she reassures. "sonee must have meant a lot to you."

jinyoung blinks.

silence ensues. then--

"you must know that's not true," comes jinyoung's soft reply.

---

jinyoung didn't mean to say it out loud. but as he looks at hyejin, he needs to come clean. he has to be honest about his own self.

"no one can take your place," jinyoung admits. "sonee liked me a lot but i-- i dated her because i wanted to make you jealous."

jiyeon seems at a loss for words. she looks uncomfortable, fidgeting. but jinyoung has to say it out. he has to get it off his chest.

"but you seemed fine. you didn't seem to care if i dated another. you seem like you've moved on. so i tried to like sonee," he continues. "but i just couldn't return her feelings. it was unfair for her. i felt like i was doing something wrong. my conscience wouldn't let me go. so i had to end it before i hurt her any further."

"she knew, from the beginning, that i wasn't that interested in her. she was happy that i agreed to go out with her though she didn't understand why. she tried her best to appeal to me but we both realized that it couldn't work. in the end, we parted on good terms."

jinyoung fiddles with his fingers. he glances up, but he can't read jiyeon's expression. is she angry? does she find his words outrageous? jinyoung just can't figure out.

"why are you telling me this now?" her voice comes out soft.

why? jinyoung asks himself. he, himself, is not certain. what does he want from this? jiyeon's love? jiyeon's attention? or does he want someone to lean on, someone that can provide him comfort?

"i... don't know either," jinyoung answers with a slump in his shoulders. "i just wanted to get it off my chest. and i wanted to be honest, at least to myself."

jiyeon nods slightly, then she takes in a deep breath. "then i'll be honest too."

jinyoung's ears perk up.

---

listening to jinyoung pouring out his thoughts, jiyeon feels that it's only right for her to do the same too. it gives her the courage to express herself without fear of jinyoung's judgment nor her own feelings.

"i thought that you moved on easily," she begins. "you continued to star in many dramas, and in all your interviews, you were smiling wide as if you felt no pain. as if our break-up didn't matter to you."

"when the news broke out that you were dating sonee, i just felt..." she trails off, unsure of how to describe her emotion at the time. heartbroken? disappointed? jealousy? or was it envy that sonee receives jinyoung's attention?

"... lost," she realizes. "i felt lost because you were my anchor. even though i was the one who initiated the break-up, i thought we'd patch things up again. but you dated someone else and i felt as if i was cast aside."

"i tried to soldier on, but it breaks me every time i see pictures of you and sonee," jiyeon confesses. "but it also hurts me to see you this sad."

there's a slight pause. then jiyeon concludes, "i guess i haven't moved on from you."

---

jinyoung didn't even realize he was holding his breath at her words. is she meaning to say that-- "do you want to start over? with me?" jinyoung's tongue slips faster than his mind could stop.

jiyeon folds her arms, avoiding the actor's gaze. "i don't know..." she trails off. "i don't think it's the right time. you're still healing. i don't want you to make decisions without thinking through it."

"give it some time. i think we both need to figure out what we truly want," jiyeon adds.

jinyoung keeps mum, a little disappointment in his heart but he finds himself agreeing to that suggestion.

---

"the drama that actor park jinyoung starred in breaks the record for the highest ratings on national broadcast!"

jiyeon stares at the screen, the words from the reporter just goes over her head. she's happy for jinyoung, of course. jinyoung has regained the trust and the love of the nation after his six months long hiatus. initially, he wasn't given as many drama offers prior to the hiatus, but slowly, he worked his way up again. jiyeon is more than happy to watch the man rebuild his life.

the chimes in the cafe ring, and jiyeon turns to the direction of the door. jinyoung waltzes in, most of his face hidden by the black cap and the scarf wound around his neck. he pads over to her table and takes the opposite seat.

"sorry, i'm late," he says first, unwrapping the scarf around his neck but leaving his cap on.

jiyeon waves her hand. "it's fine. it's not easy to meet mr. top star," she jokes.

jinyoung laughs. they fall into easy conversation, the cafe not that busy yet. it's a weekday morning after all.

"so," jinyoung starts, after completing his plate of pancakes. "what is your answer?"

jiyeon has been waiting for this moment. it's nerve wracking as how she imagined it to be.

"what was your question?" she counters, a smile tugging at her lips.

jinyoung exhales. then he leans forward, face serious. "back then, i wasn't the best at prioritizing. i couldn't effectively manage my time. and because of that, you suffered. we suffered. now, i believe i'm better able to manage my life properly. so, han jiyeon, would you give me another chance? to start over what was between us?"

"yes," jiyeon replies without hesitation. "let's try again. and this time, i'll be more understanding too."

jinyoung smiles wide, the crinkles around his eyes appearing.

---

they walk in the bustling streets of seoul side by side, but never touching. jinyoung knows jiyeon is trying to keep a distance between them in public places. but he wonders how long will they be a secret from the world. as long as they hide themselves from the eyes of the world, they can never achieve total freedom to date freely in public. there'll be no way they can be like any other couple out there.

so jinyoung halts in his tracks and pulls off the scarf that has been wrapped around his neck to cover his face, along with his cap and sunglasses. people stop to stare, some of them gasping to see the top actor in the streets of seoul.

"han jiyeon!" he yells after her. she hadn't noticed that jinyoung wasn't walking with her. when she hears her name being called, she flinches and turns around hastily. her eyes go wide at the sight of the actor with his bare face shown in public. she strides forward and tries to cover him with the scarf.

"what are you doing?!" she hisses, worried for the actor's safety.

"i'm in love with you, jiyeon-ah!" he declares out loud, enough for the people around them to hear. "you were there for me when i was going through tough times! you made me who i am today, the top actor that i am today!"

"jinyoung, you can't do this in public!" she hisses again, haphazardly still trying to cover his face. 

but jinyoung's adamant on staying at that spot, on exposing his face to the world. he grabs her shoulders.

"i'm not shying away anymore! i want the world to know how much i love you, jiyeon," jinyoung confesses.

then he brings his hands to his mouth and yells at the top of his lungs, "han jiyeon! i love you!"

jiyeon just stares at him, stupefied. darting her eyes left and right, she tries to stop him, "yah, you can't just--"

"i love you, han jiyeon!!" the man screams again.

"yah!!" she steps forward, pressing her palm against his mouth.

"i know," she says softly, a fond look on her face. "i know."

the hand around jinyoung's mouth loosens and he matches her smile. then he cups her face and connects their lips, uncaring about the bystanders. if they gasp, or there's a series of snapshots being taken, jinyoung doesn't hear it. because in this moment, there's only the two of them in the world.

---

"actor park jinyoung wins the daesang in 2025 seoul drama awards!"

jiyeon swoons over how handsome jinyoung looks in a suit. his hair purposely tousled to make him look even younger. she watches on the screen as the man receives the grand prize and a bouquet of flowers. he bows politely to the audience before saying his speech.

"first and foremost, this award is for the drama staff who had worked hard to put out such a great drama that is loved by many. i'm grateful to the director who brought out the best in me and my fellow co-stars who helped me be a better actor. to my fans, thank you so much for your constant support and love. i will work harder to become a better actor who deserves this prestigious award."

then jinyoung stares right at the camera, and jiyeon feels as if he's looking right into her. her heart pounds. "finally, to my dearest wife, han jiyeon, who is at home. thank you for being there for me throughout, for comforting me whenever i feel low. thank you for being my pillar of support, for encouraging me and supporting my dreams. i love you."

jinyoung blows a kiss to the camera and jiyeon smiles wide. she repeats the same action, uttering a soft "i love you too" in the quietness of their apartment. she makes a mental note to truly kiss him later, when he gets back home. 

[phobidawg]

This is insanely late, but I finally finished up my fic for the Renegades Fic Exchange, hosted by @narcissacronin and @ruby-assassin! It’s for @onecannotbebravewhohasnofear with the prompt of “something with Callum.” I hope you like it! <3

SUPERNOVA SPOILERS!

And AU where Callum survived Supernova, and all the team is grown up. It’s Giving Thanks Day, and Nova is completely overhwelmed with preparations, so Callum offers to babysit the kids. 

Word Count- 1728

Callum turned the lock, patting the granda victorian doors fondly. The wooden sign above them read “Treadwell’s Treasures.” The name had been an offhand thought of Nova’s. Though Maggie has scoffed, Callum thought it was charming. And so, the three of them had pooled their money, and bought Callum his dream museum. The museum hosted a wide variety of historical objects and presentations. The council even let Callum showcase many of the unused prodigy objects in the artifacts room, under the condition that they could access them at any time they needed. 

Treadwell’s Treasures was his favorite place to be in the world, hence why it had been open even today, a national holiday. Giving Thanks Day was to honor the gifts they had. It was a holiday that Callum himself had suggested to the Council, and they’d readily agreed.

There was a beep, and Callum looked down at his Renegade watch. He picked it up, and was met with a distressed Nova yelling at someone “no the other pot, there’s already something in that one!”

“Nova, are you okay?” Callum could sense the anxiety and Nova’s overwhelmed state of being through the phone. 

“Hi Callum, it just wanted to remind you that dinner’s at- Andromeda please don’t touch that it’s hot!”

“Dinner?” From the sound of it, that was the last thing Callum expected Nova to tell him about. 

“Yes it’s at 5… OSCAR PLEASE-”

“Do you need a hand?”

“Oh no you don’t have to do that,” There was a bang and a squeal that sounded suspiciously like Oscar in the background. It sounded like Callum did to do that. “I’ll be there in 10!” Callum reponsonded brightly, before hanging up and jogged to his bike. 

Callum never went anywhere by car, he believed that saving the environment was in the small things. He also always wore a helmet, which he buckled now.

Passing through the streets, Callum admired the improvement the Council had made to the dilapidated suburbs. The project was a huge undertaking, and when he had time Callum liked to help the effort. Though the main priority was making them safe to live in, Callum liked it when  the helpers repainted a house a bright color. The reds, yellows, greens, and blues really brightened the atmosphere of the whole place.

Callum turned a corner, smiling at people as he passed. Soon he neared a pretty, light blue house. Parking his bike, he knocked on the door.

Nova opened it, and promptly ushered him in.

“Happy Giving Thanks Day!” She began to hug him, but a “Nova! The pasta is on fire!” quickly recalled her back to the kitchen.

Callum wasn’t alone for long, only moments passed before a little girl came to hug his legs.

“Uncle Callum!” She squealed. He laughed, swinging her up over his head. She shrieked gleefully and he kissed her cheek. Callum loved when Nova’s kids called him Uncle, even if they were by no way related. 

“Andromenda! How’ve you been? How’s Bear?”

Andromeda showcased her stuffed cat proudly. “He got a cut above his eye, but I gave him stitches myself. Callum peered at the stitching. “Wow! You're going to have to give me lessons! I ripped my pants yesterday gardening, can you fix those too?”

Andromeda considered, before nodding, determined. “I’ll fix them!”

“Whew, what would I do without you.” He set her down, and she scampered off to find Nina, Oscar and Ruby’s daughter.

“Callum! Nova said I would find you here.” Adrian clapped his shoulder. The two exchanged greetings as Adrian led him to the back room. “Thank you so much for offering to help out, it’s really hectic- Oscar, his mom, and Ruby’s parents and grandmother are all in the kitchen trying to cook over each other while she leads them, and Ruby and I are busy setting the table and finishing up decorations… it’ll only be for a half hour before my dads and everyone else come and they’ll be fine on their own.”

“It’s no problem! I’m glad to help.” Callum responded, and Adrian sighed in relief. 

“Thank you so much.” He ran off to find Ruby again, and Callum was left with the kids.

There were three jumping kids, and one in a bucket seat. Andromeda and Nina, the 6 year olds, and Lucas, Ruby and Oscar’s 4 year old son. The one in the bucket seat began to cry, so Callum went over to pick the child up. Cradling the baby, he looked down and bopped it’s nose.

“Why are you so sad Diana?” He cooed, moving around a little bit to soothe her. Diana waved one little fist, sucking on the other. Callum caught the first, and enclosed it in his hand. Diana made a gasping sound, and her eyes widened as she wondered where her fist had gone. Callum smiled, and opened his hand. The little girl goggled at her newly reappeared hand, tears forgotten. Callum bounced her a little, and reached over to get the sash from the table. He handed the little girl to Andromeda for a moment, and put the sash over one shoulder and under the other. He took the baby back and settled her in the hammock like space that was made before turning to face the other children.

“Lucas, Nina! I believe it’s been a full week since I saw you last. Have you been good for your parents?”

The two bounced on the balls on their feet, nodding profusely. Callum smiled at them. “I’ve been good too!” Andromeda piped up. Callum laughed, and dug around in his pocket. Pulling out his hand, he extended it towards the three and opened it. The squealled gleefully when they saw the little caramel chews. Callum mimed a shushing motion, “your parents won’t be very happy since caramel gets stuck in your teeth, but a little extra sweetness has done nothing but help people.” 

“Thank you Uncle Callum!” They chorused, unwrapping them eagerly. 

Diana gurgled, and Callum reached over to grab her bottle. “I didn’t forget you.” He reassured, handing it to her.

“What were you doing before?” He asked when the candies had been eaten.

“We were playing family.” Andromeda informed. 

“I was the baby.” Nina complained, crossing her arms. “I wanted to be the dog!” She exclaimed, “And plus we already have a baby.”

“But Diana can’t play with us, and not every family has a dog.” Andromeda reasoned.

“I’m the Dad.” Lucas stuck his chest out proudly, looking at Andromeda for approval. She was too busy arguing with Nina though. Callum told Lucas he looked very manly.

“Well I can’t see why Nina can’t be a dog, not every couple has a child. Look at Aunt Danna and Aunt Narcissa!”

Nina began to grin, and Andromeda paused, considering.

“Well, they don’t have a dog either.” She said, as if that settled it. 

“That’s because Auntie Narcissa is allergic to dogs.” Lucas pointed out. “If she wasn’t they might!”

“Oh…” 

Callum was a little lost on the logic of toddlers, but could sense it was going to work itself out.

“Does that mean I can be a dog?” Nina was looking between them, equally lost. 

Andromeda didn’t answer, eyebrows furrowed, but Lucas told his sister that of course she could.

“Yay!” Nina jumped up and down.

“Wait, what’s Uncle Callum going to be?” Andromeda asked.

Callum considered, “the next door neighbor?”

“You can be the grandpa!” Lucas giggled, and Callum laughed, joining the game.

~*~

 Once the company began to arrive, they all congregated in the living room. Danna, Narcissa, Maggie, Ruby’s brother’s, Max were all there. After the battle, the last four had become a Renegades team, along with another girl (who couldn't make it tonight.) Hugh and Simon were in their way, as well as Leroy and Danna’s parents. 

Callum took a seat next to Maggie. She and the boys from her team were engaged in a very serious game of Connect 4. It was Maggie and Max against the twins.

Callum whispered something in Maggie’s ear. She grinned and a moment later, she and Max had the twins beat.

“No fair! They cheated!” Jade pointed at him accusingly, but Max and Maggie couldn't hear of the sound of their whooping.

The two hours passed in a joyous blur of talking, friends, and intense games of Uno (Danna won every time.)

Food was served, and the rest of the guests came, the meal was ended, people left to play games in the other room, and an exhausted Nova took a seat next to him.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, taking a bite.

“Aaaaaah.” Nova yell sighed. Callum pat her hand. “This is all amazing, you’ve done an outstanding job.” He reassured. She smiled at him.

“Hosting is hard,” she admitted. “It’s all much better now that I’m sitting though.”

“I wouldn’t know.” He laughed. “Well, I hosted a museum, but that’s very different.”

“Speaking of, how’s your Day of Triumph exhibition going?”

Callum nodded. “Very well, I think the people will walk out understanding both sides, the losses of both, and how it didn’t stop further problems- though a victory nonetheless.”

Nova nodded, fingers tapping her glass. “Are you doing another one of the ‘stand really still and look like a statue’ fundraisers soon? Because Narcissa loved it.”

“She did tell me that afterwards, also she said she had some good books I could borrow for my next exhibit.”

“That’s great!”

There was a pause of silence, before Nova said, “Thank you for coming over and watching the kids today. I know they’re a handful, but it was a huge help.”

Callum just smiled and waved it away. “Anytime, and it was no problem! Love the kids.”

Nova stood up. “You’re the best. Now I have to go wash the dishes.”

Ruby popped her head in the room. “Danna and I have got the dishes!”

Nova looked doubtful. “Clear the table…”

“Adrian did that.” Ruby informed.

“Oh!” Nova was surprised and clearly relieved. Callum gave her a gentle push towards the living room, where Adrian and her other friends were waiting for her on the couch. “Go!” 

Callum watched her sit and give Adrian a kiss on the cheek with content. His friends were happy, Gatlon was on the rise, and all was at peace in the world. He was most definitely thankful.

[thenovelartist]

Letters to Ladybug,pt 2

Ack! This took so long to finish, but it’s done!! YAY! :D

<<First

~ AO3 ~ Fanfiction ~ Support me on Ko-Fi ~

“I hope you’re happy,” Plagg snarked.

Nino snorted. “Don’t let him fool you,” he said with a grin. “He enjoyed his time with the princess just fine. A little too well, if you ask me.”

Plagg growled at him.

But Adrien wasn’t really paying attention. His mind was fully on a woman with dark curls and creamy skin that was complimented by a vivid red dress. And blue eyes.

Blue eyes he never got to see.

He sighed. Just as well. He was to meet the princess today. He needed to not be focused on a woman that he would never see again. A woman who was engaged to be married herself. A woman he needed to forget.

He wished he could say he would with a little time, but he had a feeling that it would be a vain effort. He would not be able to part with her letters or drawings. He couldn’t not have something to remember her by. Maybe time would dull the ache of her absence, but he couldn’t see forgetting her happening.

A knock on the door signaled the time for Adrien to meet his father in his office, where there would be an official introduction to his new wife and her family. Reluctantly, he headed to the door. Before he could exit his room, Nino grabbed his shoulder, giving him an apologetic smile. Plagg grabbed his other shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

From Plagg, that meant a lot. “Thanks,” Adrien said. “I still owe you two for last night.”

“You do,” Plagg agreed. “Later. For now, go meet your new wife and tell us how wonderful she is.”

Adrien gave them a thankful smile before heading out the door to greet Nathalie.

“Your father is waiting for you in his office.”

Adrien nodded. “Thank you, Nathalie.”

She nodded before marching off.

“Well,” Adrien said, straightening his coat. “Here we go.”

He marched down to his father’s office, hands clenched so they wouldn’t shake. He was nervous, for he was to meet his new wife shortly. He was a prince; he’d been raised for this, yet he feared what this woman could be like. What if Adrien didn’t like her? What if she was like Chloe or Lila or any of the other women who clung to him for his looks and status?

He shook his head clear. Whoever she was, she would be his wife, and he would treat her well.

He gave the door to his father’s office a knock before he entered the room, only to find it empty sans his father at the desk. Adrien stood by his father’s right shoulder, ready to greet the woman who was to be his bride.

Moments later, the royal family of Miraculous walked in. Adrien’s gaze immediately landed on the young princess, and his eyes widened. She was beautiful, to be sure. Black curls cascaded over her milky white shoulders. The red of her dress was striking, and it reminded him far too much of another woman he’d met.

“King Gabriel,” the King of Miraculous, a large man, greeted with a bow. “Prince Adrien.”

“King Tom,” his father returned. “Queen Sabine, Princess Marinette.”

The women curtsied.

“Adrien,” his father suggested. “Why don’t you take the princess on a tour of the gardens.”

It wasn’t a suggestion; it was a demand. “Of course, father.” He walked over to the princess and offered his elbow for her to take. “Shall we?”

She looked at him, that disappointed tilt of her lips replaced by a look of surprise. Slowly, she placed her arms around his elbow. “We shall.”

…

He was handsome, Marinette would give him that. But he was quiet. That couldn’t be his personality; Tikki assured her that last night, the prince couldn’t stop talking to her.

She tried to convince herself the silence gave her more time to process the events of last night and attempt to hide her heartbreak. However, she knew it was hardly fair to Adrien that she wasn’t trying to be more friendly. He was to be her husband, and she would submit like the wife she had been raised to become.

Suddenly, a rose appeared before her. It startled her a moment, causing her to look up at the man who held in in front of her.

“I know that this is sudden,” he began. “For both of us. But the last thing I wish is for us to be on poor terms. Forgive me for not being talkative this morning. I suppose I’m lost for words. I haven’t the faintest idea what to say to a woman who is to become my wife before the week is over.”

She looked at the peace offering: a red rose that was rich in color. Then she looked back up to Prince Adrien, taking in his golden locks and handsome face and vivid green eyes that she could see herself getting lost in. This was to be her husband, and he was clearly extending a peace offering here and now with a rose and a reassuring smile.

Slowly, she took the rose from him, then let a small smile loose. “How about we start with a hello, then you could tell me… what’s your favorite hobby?”

…

The wedding was made to be a much bigger event than it should have been. People in the streets celebrated the union between the kingdoms, knowing it would bring security and trade, and therefore, prosperity. However, according to Plagg, the townspeople were just pleased to have an excuse to throw a festival.

At least it brought happiness and cheer. Adrien wouldn’t deny his kingdom that.

After the ceremony at the church and the large, joyous banquet held in honor of the newlyweds and united kingdoms, Adrien wanted nothing more than to go to bed for the night. However, the woman walking at his side reminded him that there was more than sleep to a wedding night.

Adrien glanced at his bride, one who still dawned her wedding gown and veil. They had been shooed up to his room by the half-drunk crowd in the banquet hall that was sure to be sent away soon enough. And even though they had traversed the halls together, they hadn’t spoken a word to each other. Marinette had yet to look his direction, or even raise her gaze from the floor.

He led her into his room, opening the door for them. She let go of his elbow and stepped inside, still never looking him in the eye. He knew why. No matter how well they had gotten along, the fact was they still only knew each other for barely a week. He guessed she wasn’t any more comfortable than he was with the prospect of what the night was supposed to entail.

“Marinette,” He said, shutting the door behind him. “I have a proposition.”

Finally, she raised her eyes to look at him. Even in the low lighting, he could tell those blue eyes of hers held fear. Though they’d only known each other a short time, he already knew he hated that look on her. She was charming and sweet; innocent and child-like. Roses amused her more than jewelry did. And she held herself with pride and competence, but never once was she cruel.

The best part was he didn’t think it was an act. He’d watched her from a distance many a time, and never once was she any different than when he was by her side. This was a woman he could learn to love, but for right now, his love for her would be shown as respect for her comfort. His wife she may be, she clearly wasn’t comfortable with being here with him.

He couldn’t have that.

“Yes?” she asked.

He sighed. “I don’t think… either of us are ready for tonight.”

He saw the beginnings of a blush on her cheeks and chest as she turned away from him.

“My proposition is that we consummate our marriage at a later date.”

After a moment, Marinette turned back to him. “But won’t your kingdom be expecting an heir as soon as possible?”

Adrien sucked in a breath. “That is true,” he said. “But I’m sure they won’t mind waiting another one or two months before then.”

She looked surprised to say the least. “I…” she swallowed. “I would appreciate it more than you know…”

His smile faded. “What is it?”

She bit her lip. “In my kingdom,” she said. “There is a tradition where someone is sent to peek into the bedrooms after a wedding night and report to the court. It’s… it’s supposed to signal if the wife was submissive or not. If she was in her husband’s bed, then the court is assured she is a good wife. If the husband is in the wife’s, then she forced her husband to chase her, and it’s not seen as a good sign.”

“And you’re worried that tradition will extend here,” he finished.

She nodded, bowing her head and gaze locking on the floor once again.

He sighed. “Then,” he began. “How about this?” He reached for her hands to hold in his. This got her to look back up at him. “We both share my bed tonight,” he said. “I cannot let disgrace come to your head. But we still do not have to consummate our union tonight. We can wait.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You’re certain?” she asked.

He gave her a smile he hoped was gentle. “I think it would be for the better.”

“I’m certainly not going to argue with you,” she said, her posture already less rigid. “But… I do need one more thing.”

“And that is?”

Her blush returned full force. “Um… I’ll need…help… out of my wedding dress.”

…

Marinette didn’t want to get out of bed. Surprisingly.

Yesterday had been her wedding, and she had mentally prepared herself the previous week for the wedding night. But after her husband fully assured her that he’d rather wait, the tears she had held back all day wouldn’t stay in. He’d been so gentle with her last night, holding her caringly as she cried herself to sleep.

She knew he was a good man. He was a bit reserved, but over the week she’d known him, he’d proven himself to be considerate and gentle. His smile was sweet, and he always regarded her with respect. Maybe that was what had made it easier to accept that she would have to give herself to him on her wedding night.

Yet, when it came down to it, she’d been worried, even though she did everything she could to be strong.

He’d helped her escape the confines of her wedding dress, but he never made any move to cause her to think he stepped back from his promise. He allowed her to escape to her room, where she found a night gown to wear. Only then did she return to his room to see that he, too, had changed out of his wedding ensemble and into a pair of night clothes.

Actually, only a pair of night pants. He was bare chested, which only caused her face to heat.

Yet, even in that state, he never stopped reassuring her, and she didn’t feel uncomfortable with him. Even as she cried that night, still flabbergasted yet thankful that he did not want to claim his marital rights immediately, he was patient and kind with her.

She was sure he would be a good husband to her. As a princess, she was extraordinarily lucky in that respect. She supposed she really was a Ladybug.

Her eyes were heavy to open, but when she did, she found her husband was laying awake on his back, clearly lost in his thoughts as he stared up to the ceiling. Tentatively, she reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder.

Immediately, he turned to her and gave her a smile. “Good morning,” he began quietly.

“Good morning,” she returned, her voice hoarse from the tearful night. “Did… did you sleep well?”

“I did,” he assured, rolling over on his side. “Are you feeling better?”

She nodded, still feeling a bit embarrassed for crying so much last night. “I am, thank you.”

He took hold of her hand and kissed her knuckles. “I’m glad.”

She gave his hand a squeeze. “And thank you,” she said. “Thank you for everything.”

His smile brightened. “You’re welcome.”

“I mean it,” she said, squeezing his hand tighter. “Thank you.”

He gave her hands a squeeze back, and as she looked into his eyes, she felt safe here with him. “You’re very welcome, Marinette.”

…

Even before he’d met Marinette, Adrien knew he would need to pursue her faithfully and be the best husband he could to her. Though he had once worried it might be a struggle, Adrien found himself more than willing to go out of his way to woo his lovely wife. Her smile was a thing of beauty, her eyes always taking on mirthful gleam. Her laugh was quiet and reserved, with him, but he’d once heard her unabashedly laugh with her lady-in-waiting, and he wanted to make her laugh like that.

One day, that would happen. He was sure of it. But that wouldn’t happen unless he found her.

Instead, he found Plagg leaning idlily a wall.

“Don’t you have work to do?” Adrien challenged.

“It’s amazing how much more I can get done in a day when I don’t have letters to go fetch,” he said, standing upright. “Is that for the princess?”

Adrien glanced at the rose between his fingers. “Yes,” he said.

Plagg nodded. “It’s good to see you wooing her.”

“She is my wife. I think it should be my duty.”

“Not all men would think that,” Plagg said.

“I’m not all men.”

“That is true,” Plagg admitted. “But, surely you find her worth wooing in the first place.”

Adrien pursed his lips. “True,” he admitted. “I know I don’t always have the best of luck, but I was lucky enough to be blessed with a decent woman to be married to. Particularly since it was arranged.”

“Very lucky,” Plagg said. “I just saw her in the sunroom, if you wanted to know. Her and her lady-in-waiting are there.”

She wasn’t alone, then. Shame.

“I’m sure I could convince Nino to distract said lady, if you want,” Plagg said.

Adrien quirked a brow. “You’re being oddly helpful.”

Plagg smirked. “Not because you deserve it, that’s for sure. You still owe me. But Nino and Lady Alya did strike it off quite well at the masquerade.”

“Did they, now?” Adrien asked, surprised. “Why wasn’t I told?”

“Nino didn’t think it was important with all the other events and issues happening. You were heartbroken over your Ladybug as well as engaged to marry a woman within a week of meeting her. A fast time for a marriage, might I say, but it was done in good timing. One of the kingdoms to the north threatened Kingdom Miraculous right before the wedding, only to retract it once the union took place. Together, we are larger than either one of those kingdoms.”

“Not by much,” Adrien said. “But with those two kingdoms being in a scrimmage with each other, neither one can afford to get into battles that would cause them to use resources. Whether or not we’d win isn’t the point, but we are strong enough to cause them some serious trouble.”

Plagg nodded. “Hopefully, it discourages either of those kingdoms from coming after us. The last thing we need is to get into a war we have no stakes in.”

Adrien nodded. “Let’s keep our fingers crossed, shall we?”

“At this point, it’s all we can do. Now, go woo your princess.”

With a smile, Adrien patted Plagg’s shoulder. “Get back to work.”

“I’m resting,” Plagg retorted. “One of the many things you owe me.”

“I’m sure you can find better things to spend that favor on than a nap, Plagg,” he sassed back.

Plagg chuckled. “True,” he said, standing from the wall and marching off. “Very true.”

…

“I’m proud of you,” Alya commented, snapping Marinette from her reverie.

“Pardon?”

“You haven’t read any of Chat’s letters since you got married.”

Marinette sighed, her heart hurting at the mere mention of the letters. She hadn’t read them even though she wanted to. She was trying to distance herself as much as she could from Chat so she could give everything she could to her husband.

Alya must have sensed her internal struggle. “Hey,” Alya said, setting aside her needlework. “You should draw something for him.”

“Who?”

“Your husband,” Alya said. “He doesn’t know you draw yet, does he? You should surprise him with something.”

Marinette sighed. “I don’t know, Alya.”

“Why not?” she challenged. “It would be good for you to draw something. You haven’t touched a pencil since you learned you were engaged.”

Alya was right; it had been hard to bring herself to draw again since half of the joy of drawing had been from being able to give it to Chat.

Before Marinette could give Alya an answer, her friend had already rung the bell. “And when someone comes up to answer, we’ll get you some drawing supplies. I have no doubt you’ll thank me later.”

It wasn’t long before Marinette had some paper and charcoal before her. Now, the largest question was what to draw in the first place.

She stared at the paper for a while before a rose appeared before her. Startled, Marinette spun around to see Adrien standing behind her. “Good afternoon,” he greeted with a smile. “I came to give you a small gift that made me think of you.”

She looked back to the rose, her heart skipping a beat. “For me?”

“Who else?” he teased. “Of course, for you, my dear.”

My dear? she thought, taking the rose from him. He’d yet to call her any endearment, so this one felt sweetly genuine. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

He smiled. “I was going to ask if you would take a walk with me,” he began. “But I didn’t know you were busy.”

“I’m not,” Marinette said, happily setting aside the paper. Her muses simply weren’t coming, and she was pleased with any distraction at this point. “I would love to go for a walk with you.”

The happiness in his expression was enough to warm her heart and encourage her to do anything she could to see it again. “Then, my dear, shall we?”

She wrapped her arms over his extended elbow. “We shall.”

…

The knock on the door startled Adrien. He’d been so focused he hadn’t noticed Nino enter his office. “How long have you been there?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and begging his heart to slow down.

“Not long,” Nino said, stepping fully into the office and shutting the door behind him. “I was looking everywhere for you, buddy.”

“Sorry,” Adrien said. “I’ve been preoccupied.”

Nino gave a nod. “With?”

“Poetry.”

Nino’s eyes widened. “You haven’t written since Ladybug.”

“That was only a few weeks ago.”

“Six,” Nino corrected. “You used to write daily.”

Six? Had it really been that long since he’d written his last letter to Ladybug? That would mean that it had been around four weeks since he’d seen her and three since he married Marinette. Where had the time gone? It still felt like only yesterday he was blessed enough to have the opportunity to dance with her.

“No matter how irritating you get with your obnoxiously romantic writings,” Nino teased, “It’s good to see you writing again.”

Adrien gave a half smile. “I’m really struggling with this poem, though. Verses for Ladybug used to come so easily. It’s hard to write something for Marinette.”

“I don’t get how, but what do I know?” Nino said with a shrug. “Can’t you write things like you did for Ladybug.”

“No, I have to temper any feelings, for one,” Adrien began. “Our relationship is still new, and I don’t want to startle her with profound love confessions that wouldn’t be completely true in the first place. We haven’t consummated our marriage yet; you know.” Adrien felt a light blush dust his cheeks. He’d only told Nino after his friend had given him a large amount of ribbing the week after his marriage. “And our relationship is blooming really well right now. I have to be careful.”

“So write about that,” Nino said as though it was obvious. “About how you want a relationship with her.”

Adrien stared at the page, Nino’s words rolling through his mind. A blooming relationship, like the roses she liked so well. “That’s not a bad idea,” Adrien said, pulling out a clean sheet of paper.

Nino snorted in amusement. “Glad I could help. I’m not going to be able to convince you to shoot some arrows now, am I?”

“No.”

“I figured as much.”

…

He was a beautiful poet; she couldn’t deny it. His writing was very touching and earnest, but all she could think of was how it wasn’t Chat.

“I’m a horrible person,” she muttered.

“No, you’re not,” Tikki chastised from where she stood at Marinette’s dresser, putting away the clean laundry.

Marinette turned around in her seat to look at Tikki. “You don’t even know what I’m thinking about.”

“I don’t have to; you’re not a horrible person.”

Marinette sighed, turning back to the poem on her desk. “But Adrien wrote me a poem—”

“He’s a poet?”

“And a good one,” she said. “But all I can think of is Chat.”

Tikki gave her a pitying look before walking up to Marinette and wrapping her arms around her shoulders. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It must be hard, but you have to admit that Adrien has been nothing but a good husband to you.”

“I know,” Marinette said, reaching up to hold Tikki’s arms in place. “Which is why I feel so horrible comparing his work to Chat’s.”

“I’m sure that soon enough, Adrien’s poetry will be all you think of,” Tikki said.

“If he writes me any more.”

“Tell him you loved it. I’m sure you can subtly encourage him to continue writing more things for you. I know!” Tikki said, pulling back from her embrace. “What if you drew him a little something?”

Marinette chuckled. “You and Alya both suggested that. But the last time I tried, I couldn’t think of anything to draw.”

“That’s because you always used to draw when you were inspired by Chat’s work. What if you drew something based on what Adrien wrote you?”

Marinette looked at the poem with newfound interest. “Do you think so?”

“I think anything to put a smile back on your face when you have a pencil in your hand would be a good thing.”

Marinette stared at the poem, images of roses coming to mind. “I… I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

…

Adrien had to admit, waking up with Marinette at his side was growing to become one of his favorite things. How he found such a simple thing so enjoyable, he didn’t know. But he was now very used to the comfort of having her to hold at night and having her holding him in return.

He gave into the urge of kissing her temple and was rewarded by a sleepy smile.

He was a very lucky man, indeed, that he was granted such a luxury as this.

Adrien was reluctant to move from his spot, knowing he would wake her if he did. Therefore, he spent time thinking of a new poem for her. In response to the first poem he gave to her, she responded with a drawing of roses. For a moment, he had felt as though he was conversing with Ladybug all over again, and that had driven him to write more for her.

While he tried his best to not compare her to Ladybug, he failed more often than he cared to admit. He even started looking through Ladybug’s drawings again with a hope that maybe something would spark an idea for a poem for his wife. Nothing had caught his interest as of yet, but he wasn’t finished. He still held out a hope that he’d find something.

After all, he relished any time Marinette rewarded him with a smile. He wanted to see how large and uninhibited it could be.

…

It had been five weeks since the wedding, and Marinette could say that while she had yet to fall fully in love with her husband, she would admit she was on her way to. It was hard to not fall for him a little when he was such a gentleman.

And if Marinette were being honest, the fact he wrote her poetry helped a little.

It felt as though she was with Chat again, him sending her romantic poetry. This poetry was far tamer, expressing only budding feelings, yet it held a genuineness that touched her in a similar way that Chat Noir’s poetry did. It also helped spark her desire to draw more often. So, when Adrien presented her with yet another poem a few days ago, she spent her time drawing a scene for him. One that he depicted in his work.

She knocked on the door to his office, only for the door to crack open. “Adrien?” she called out. Except he didn’t answer.

Carefully, she pushed open the door, only to find the office was empty.

She frowned. She’d wanted to give this to him in person, but she’d already searched everywhere and still couldn’t find him. She supposed she could just leave it on his desk for him to find when he returned. Surely, he would find it a nice surprise.

She walked into the room to place the drawing on the desk, only to catch sight of another image. It caused her to pause, as she stared at the upside-down drawing: the image of two people dancing.

It was impossible to take her eyes off the drawing. Slowly, she placed her current drawing down on the desk so she could reach for the one that held her full attention. One that felt so familiar.

One that she’d given Chat.

As she stared at her drawing, one that had been folded in order to fit in the envelope, her mind started reeling. There was only one reason he would have it. One way he could.

And she wasn’t sure her heart could take the answer.

It couldn’t be that simple, could it? That Adrien was Chat Noir? No. Certainly not. Tikki said she danced with the prince that night. Adrien had spent the night dancing with Tikki.

But then she thought of that night, thought of the man who had led her around the garden. Thought of his stature, his hair, his voice. And all she could see… was Adrien.

Her breathing increased. Didn’t he tell her that night that he had an arranged marriage as well? That he would have to cut off correspondence to be loyal to his future wife.

Tears threatened to spill over as she set the picture down.

“Marinette?”

Instantly, she spun, coming face to face with Adrien.

…

He was surprised to see Marinette in his office. However, it certainly wasn’t an unwelcomed one. What was unwelcome was the tears in her eyes.

“My dear,” he cooed, ready to take her into his arms and hold her until she settled. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re Chat Noir?”

He froze, his eyes wide and chest suddenly tight. “P-pardon?”

“You’re Chat Noir,” she tearfully choked out.

As he watched the tears trail down her cheeks, he snapped to action, quickly wiping them away with his thumbs.

“You’re my Chat Noir,” she whispered, staring up at him.

And that’s when it hit him, his gut sinking and breath growing short. “Ladybug.”

A choked-up sob escaped through her smile. “Hello, my Black Cat.”

His world was suddenly spinning as he was suddenly taken back to that night, of dancing with a woman in red, her black curls shining in the moonlight. His eyes then locked on hers at the memory of him catching her before she ran off, begging to know what color her eyes were.

“They’re so beautiful.”

“Hmm?”

“Your eyes,” he whispered. “I didn’t imagine that they’d be this blue.”

Another sob escaped her, and Adrien wasted no time cocooning her up against his chest, reveling in how her hair brushed against his jaw as she choked out a few more sobs on his shoulder.

“How did you discover that?” he asked once she had calmed.

“I saw my drawing on your desk,” she answered. “One of the last ones I sent you.”

He sighed. “I couldn’t help myself. Your work inspired some of my poems. I was hoping to draw some inspiration from it again to write to you.”

She chuckled, and he wished that she would laugh more often. It was a sound that he’d grown quite fond of and wanted to hear more often. “I was just about to give you another drawing. One of the scenery you described in your last poem.”

“Did you enjoy it?” he asked. “I feel as though it’s not my best work.”

“It’s still lovely,” she assured. “Though I cannot lie, I much prefer your romantic works.”

“I can give you those again.”

“I would enjoy that very much.”

…

Marinette had spent the rest of the day right at her husband’s side. The announcement that dinner was ready was surprisingly unwelcomed as they were enjoying talking about everything and nothing. It felt like a whole other side to her husband had been exposed to her, and she was reveling in it.

After dinner, Adrien had caught hold of her hand and they had slipped away form the others in attendance at dinner. “Come with me?” he asked. “I want to show you something.”

Marinette bit her lip. “What?”

“It’s a surprise,” he said with a smile that caused her heart to race.

It made it impossible to say no. “All right.”

With a widening grin, he took her hand and led her outside. He called for a stable boy to saddle up two horses.

It didn’t take long for the men to tack up the horses. Adrien lifted her up onto one of the horses before mounting up one of his own.

He then guided the horse off into the fading night, glancing back to ensure she was following. She lead the horse up beside him.

“Are you comfortable riding fast?” he asked.

Marinette nodded, prompting Adrien to kick his horse on. Marinette did the same, and they cantered off into the sunset.

And when they stopped, she couldn’t help but gape at the scenery.

“This river,” Adrien said, dismounting. “Is the place I envision when I wrote several of the poems I sent you, including the one you chastised me for for being too lewd.”

Marinette allowed him to assist her down from the mount. “I…” She felt a blush return at the thought of that poem. “It’s not lewd between two lovers,” she said, certain she was blushing at this point. “But it was too much for a woman who wanted to be able to have sweet affections from a man she never met.”

Surprise was clear on Adrien’s face, and Marinette bowed her head in embarrassment.

But then he chuckled, cradling her chin and lifting her head to face him again. “I’m sorry to have caused you so much trouble, my lady. But…” A charmingly lopsided grin stretched across his face. “Seeing as you are now my wife, would you allow me to indulge in some of those behaviors.”

It was hard to breathe as her heart thundered in her chest and her stomach twisted into knots. “You may,” she answered breathlessly. Because this was her husband. Her love. Hers. Just as she was his. She had once wanted his affection like this, and now… now it seemed she would be rewarded with it.

If she didn’t faint first.

He took her in his arms, and she was instantly reminded of their first night, dancing together under disguises.

But then… that meant…

“Adrien?”

“What is it, my love?”

She took a breath. “If you were dancing with me in the gardens that night, then… who did my maid dance with?”

“Your maid?” he asked, confused.

She nodded. “I sent her to pretend to be me so I could dance with you in the gardens. I’d been told the prince was waiting for me…” She trailed off, mostly because he was no longer listening.

He was laughing. Loud and freely. “I sent my butler,” he said through his chuckles. “Because I simply couldn’t leave you, Ladybug, stranded there, waiting in the gardens for me.”

As soon as his words sank in, Marinette couldn’t help but laugh with him, their dance to the song of the crickets coming to a complete halt.

“We are terrible!” she cried. “Leaving our fiancés with a servant so we could meet with each other.”

“It really is horrible, isn’t it?” Adrien agreed. “What a terrible first impression.”

“We don’t deserve our spouses.”

“We certainly do not. How forgiving they are for our indiscretion.”

“Such scandalous behavior.”

Adrien calmed. “It is,” he said. “And looking back, I would like to apologize for it. Leaving you with my butler. It was so rude of me.”

Marinette took a moment to really think about it, how childish and immature she was to force her friend into such a situation. To lie to her fiancé so she could meet a man she’d never met yet loved from his letters. “I’m sorry, too.”

Adrien gave her hands a squeeze, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers. “It’s almost not fair,” he said. “That we were so lucky; that the two unfaithful royals end up with each other.”

“A blessing, indeed,” Marinette agreed.

“But I have to wonder,” he said, pulling away. “Is it fair or honest that I only fell fully in love with you once you admitted you were Ladybug? Is that unfair to Marinette?”

Her lip found her way between her teeth. He asked such a good and honest question, and she couldn’t help but wonder the same thing. Was if fair to Adrien that her love bloomed quickly only when she discovered her was Chat Noir? “I…” She swallowed, hoping her words would be steady. “I think… Chat Noir and Ladybug had been so close for a lot longer than Adrien and Marinette even know each other. And that… that it’s understandable that Chat Noir would have strong feelings for Ladybug and vice versa. And I think, that considering that we are Chat Noir and Ladybug, that Adrien and Marinette could have fallen for each other, too. Given time.”

Adrien regarded her carefully. “I would like to think the same,” he said, his hand traveling from cupping her cheek to threading through her hair. “Because I feel as though I was slowly falling for Marinette, and that I honestly could have loved her deeply with time.”

Marinette was very thankful he was holding her up with an arm around his waist, because her knees felt weak. “And I think,” she responded. “That given time, I could have fallen in love with Adrien.”

His smile was the brightest thing in the night. Brighter than the full moon. Brighter than any of the fireflies dancing in the field. “Marinette,” he spoke reverently, cradling the back of her head in a tender way that sent her mind flying back to the second to last poem he’d sent her. And she couldn’t help but wonder if this was the night she’d know just what such tender, loving affections felt like. “May I kiss you?”

Her answer was a simple one. “Yes.”

[writingsofmyimagination]

Conjecture |4|

Yoongi x Reader

Idol Reader Au, Enemies to Lovers AU

Summary: Your management refused to renew your contract unless you collaborated, so you ending up working with Min Yoongi. A guy you’d disliked from before both of your debuts. There is more to their past than meets the eye.

Words:2713

Links to other parts in my masterlist

if you want to be tagged let me know :)

@msunnsstuff @rosey-roseu @eyelessmin

Warnings: Swearing Suggested smut. (Smut in next chapter YAY :)

(Mention’s on Monsta X’s Wonho)

Reblog, Like, Comment :)

//Yoongi had to consciously stop his mouth falling open when you came onto the set. He had to retain the same control over his gaze stopping them from constantly soaking up the view. When he was directed to grip at your hip, his heart forgot to function for a few beats. He wasn’t surprised by your irritated reaction given how you’d been acting and made himself empathise with you even though his less than innocent thoughts were permeating through.//

 You jolted awake

“Fuck” was all you heard muffled through your door accompanied by the sound of glass shattering. You rushed out of bed to the source of the noise. A section of the floor was blurred with a pool of orange juice with glass shards floating as debris. What was more alarming was the droplets of red falling and causing a red orange ripple throughout the pool. Yoongi was hissing through pursed lips and gripping his left hand with his right nursing it with a tea towel.

“What happened? Sit down” you ordered. He looked at you through his fringe which overshadowed his eyes.

“I just turned with the glass in my hand which wasn’t high enough and just smashed into the worktop. I’m fine, sorry I woke you”

“You’re obviously not, sit the fuck down and let me have a look” Your tone drew his eyes wide and he submitted, taking big steps to avoid any more glass took a drooped himself on the sofa.

“Please tell me you have something that resembles a first aid box or something” you pleaded.

“Under the bathroom sink”. You washed your hands and brought the box as well as some tweezers and sat on the coffee table facing him.

“Give me your hand” he did as he was told and gave you his hand.

“I don’t know how I feel about you bossing me around” Yoongi quipped a pained smile directed your way. This is nothing you thought.

“No? Why’s that?” You slowly pulled away the towel, there were several small cuts and a couple of large but thankfully not too deep gashes. You removed all his bracelets quickly erasing any blood which had invaded them.

“Because I normally hate being told what to do” he exhaled forcefully as you picked a couple of glass fragments from his hand.

“And what? With me you like it? Brace yourself” You wiped his palm over with a disinfectant wipe.

“Shit!” his other hand retracted into a fist, his knuckles washing over with white. “That stings, and yeah something like that” he chuckled with a light heartedness you’d not seen before, a light heartedness that was acting as a decoy to disguise the confession of something less innocent and playful than the reality of what he meant. You found the confession amusing yet curious but you hid any reaction, you cheeks on the other hand let you down and tinted a shallow shade of red. A quick smirk peeked out on his lips noticing this before his pained expression returned.

“What was you rushing around for anyway?” you asked completely steering away from any more teasing remarks.

“I was trying to make you breakfast before you woke up” You paused wrapping the bandage around his hand and stared at it for a moment, why was this guy so god damn sweet!

“And why was you doing that?”

“I could see you were pissed yesterday, and just thought it might make you feel better” you resumed your final wrap around with the bandage and pinned it.

“And I know you don’t particularly like me for some reason and I’d like to try and change that” he added as sincere as you’ve ever heard him but it was also laced with sadness that loaded you with slight guilt. You heart sank down feebly to the bottom of your stomach, you felt kind of bad that he’d picked up on it but then you acknowledged how much of a bitch you’d actually been to him at times. You wasn’t by any means going to enter into a discussion about the details but you told yourself from now on you’ll try and be more amenable. The guy you started working with a few days ago had been nothing but professional, kind and thoughtful.

“There, all done” you stood and gathered the rubbish and ignored his previous comment and went to go and make a start on the kitchen.

“I’m more than capable of cleaning up my own mess and thank you for this” he stood after you and waved his injured limb.

“Consider it my apology for being difficult and my thanks for making me breakfast. It has made me feel a bit better” You smile and words were resolute; he went to protest further

“Don’t make me boss you around” you teased. He raised his hands up in surrender and waited while cleaned the chaos and finished serving up the omelettes he’d prepared. They were amazing. He wasn’t sure on the toppings you’d want so he’d gathered a few bowls of a few different options.

“What’s the plan for today?” you enquired

“Well we’ve more or less smashed out the lyrics so let’s get those finished and polished off and then we can get started on the music, I’ve took some ideas from your singing the other day and made some demo’s we can trial. I reckon we can be in the studio by the end of the week  and make a start on recording” he ended brightly

“Sounds good, I’d like to have some solo studio time if that’s okay while I just work out the sections I’ll be rapping and singing. If you trust me in your set up that is”

“I’m sure I can cope. What time you want the guys to come pick you up later?”

“Probably about 20:45 if that’s okay? My hairdresser will be here around half seven. You should really come it will be good exposure for the single if we go together” You omitted the part that you’d actually just like to spend some more casual time with him, you wasn’t keen on accepting it yourself let alone speaking it aloud.

“I’m sure that will be fine, and nope, nothing will change my mind I’m staying in my cave”

“Fine suit yourself” you carried the dishes cleared them and loaded up the dishwasher, the mechanical hum merged into the background.

“Will Wonho be there?” he asked hoping he wasn’t coming across too curious.

“Yeah, but my manager bit my ear off yesterday about the whole dispatch thing. I’m not to go near him all evening” you sulked. There was a slight brightening of Yoongi’s demeanour, he felt slightly guilty for being pleased by this revelation.

“But they’ll be no press inside surely?”

“There’s always a couple who will have been given exclusive access, so means best behaviour for me”

“Is that even a thing with you?” he bounced back at you quickly.

“Very funny, I’m going to grab a quick shower and I’ll meet you in the studio”

A better attitude even if it was a slightly forced one at times made the days session fly by, you’d both completely finished and agreed with the lyrics and were soaring through the music. You ended up being so engrained into your work you were shocked when the bell rang at half seven.

“Oh shit, please can you let her in and tell her I’ll be like 15 minutes, I need to get dressed properly” you were staring into a face clearly amused by your panic and stared right back at you void of motion to wind you up.

“Yoongi!”

“Fine, fine, I’ll go”

You rushed to your room, launched your clothes to scatter behind you and unzipped the dress bag hung over the wardrobe door. The Alexander McQueen dress staring back at you made you happy you’d changed your mind last minute. It was a black mini dress with a deep V-neck line, the v-line was filled with tonal floral lace inserts. The same style of lace also covered the arms leaving scalloped edges at your hands. The neck line was too deep to have a normal bra so you’d have to rely on the lift tape to keep you in place and secure for the night. The dress was on the thinner side but the material was thick on quality, it sat nicely on your figure and gave you a smooth silhouette. You secured the thigh choker your assistant had dropped off tightly around your thigh. It was a simple black leather strap with rounded studs on it and connected to a metal heart. You slung your behind on your unmade bed and slipped on your long black ankle boots, also Alexander McQueen. The foot section was adorned with hammered silver studs, the leather that crept up your calf has a strip of nappa leather buttons going down the outside. The silver needle heel was sturdier than you thought it would be as you cat walked yourself up and down in front of the full length body mirror. Grateful you checked, your bruises needed a quick touch up of concealer.

Now just the hair and makeup left

Yoongi nearly floored you coming out of his room in an unnecessary rush.

“Sorry…” the other words got lost as his eyes scanned you intently

“Seeing as you’re there would you mind?” you turned and scooped your hair up exposing most of your upper back. He gripped the zip which sat at the small of your back and made every effort to pull it outwards slightly as too avoid contact as he pulled the zip up.

“Thanks, sure you still don’t want to come with a date looking like this?” you twirled in a joyous motion, enjoying the awkwardness of watching his eyes not know where to settle.

“With you looking as magnificent as that I’d be near enough invisible, I’ll leave Wonho to deal with all the admirers”

Why did he even bring him up? Was he implying he wouldn’t be able to deal with other people looking at me in a certain way?

“Your loss, and he’ll just have to look and not touch with all the others tonight” you affirmed seemingly pleased you’ll be teasing him.

“I don’t envy him this evening” The penny dropped Sadie was still waiting patiently in the living room and you hastily made your way to the woman capable of performing miracles.

“Sadie I’m so sorry, I was too absorbed in this new record” You grabbed a bar stool and placed it in front on the mirror on the wall next to the window. Her stack of boxes piled up on the coffee table.

“Don’t sweat it girl, now sit down and let’s finish this look off”

The boys arrived early to get introductions out of the way and to have a few pre drinks, Yoongi had resigned himself to being a solemn bartender. They repeated trying to convince him to make an appearance but he was as stubborn as he was talented.

“Cars here guys” RM announced. J-Hope bounced up, his face already a little flushed from alcohol.

The party was an exclusive event, anyone who was anyone in the industry gets invited, it’s more of a showcase with new or up and coming artists performing throughout the evening and general atmosphere to network. The car stopped outside the venue and the chauffer opened the door and the guys climbed out to a blinding screen of flashes and excited demanding noises. RM offered his hand and assisted you out of the car. Only a couple of media networks were allowed inside to take official photos and interviews; this only made the frenzy of media into the venue more ravenous. You stood and posed for the camera’s when directed, when you were freed you spent the remainder of the carpet time by the fans, taking selfies, signing autographs and generally giving them as much of your time as you could before you were ushered inside.

The buzz of the room when you entered was electric, crowds of people fluttering around reconnecting and mingling. Everyone had a drink in their hand and looked stunning, J-Hope and RM managed to find you amongst the chaos and showed you to your reserved booth for the evening at the side of the room. At the end of the room was a small elevated stage with equipment stacked neatly at the side, including some brilliant speakers. The room was decorated with mostly a royal red with silver vines twisting around features of the room; it was similar to the décor you’d expect at a theatre.

“You can order your drinks on this, we don’t even have to get up and go to the bar” J-Hope beamed as he slid you a small phone like device and you immediately went to the gin section and ordered a few pink gin cocktails. You’d sweetly smile when your eyes caught someone you were familiar with; your eyes fritted around for people you actually wanted to speak to. You and Wonho finally spotted each other pulling your lips into a grin, moments later your phone buzzed.

- You expect me to stay away from you all night looking like that?-[20:59]

You knew instantly it was going to be a long frustrating night

- well we’re just both going to have to do as we’re told, doesn’t mean we can’t have fun, you know I like to tease – [21:02]

You watched his expression diffuse into manic anticipation as he read your reply. When your drinks arrived you drifted from the boys and mingled with your friends, who imposed more than a few shots on you. Your manager managed to come out from backstage preparing a newbie to your label for his performance and casually checked in on your progress, you’d always loved his relaxed approach and how he just mostly left you to work, he didn’t even have to learn the hard way.

You slumped yourself back into the booth out of breath from owing the dancefloor, downing the last of one of your drinks including the ice cubes.

-That dress belongs on my bedroom floor, with me bound and gagged under you and my chest all marked up because I misbehaved-[22:39]

RM was looking at you amused with your intoxication or your wry smile as you read your message.

You almost choked on your drink, seemingly forgetting how to swallow as your body was too preoccupied controlling its arousal levels. He knew how to get you. You made a conscious effort to divert from being drawn in to Wonho’s gaze which you knew would be more than you could tolerate without dragging him somewhere private.

“What?” you questioned with a challenge.

“Nothing, nothing” he lied unapologetically. J-Hope returned reuniting the three of you at the table.

“Performances start in fifteen minutes” he announced. You were sat perfectly content until your eyes fell on the reason you’re mainstream career struggled to take off and the reason you’d vowed to never work with a male artists again. When his gaze melded with yours the bastard winked. Your eyes widened and mouth dropped slightly open with disgust. Anger swelled in your chest, raising your heart rate, adrenaline flooding your system preparing your for battle. You jumped up and made a b-line straight for him with everyone else in the room becoming a blur into the background.

“Hey, watch it!” you complained as you’d crashed into a figure. He grabbed your wrist and refused to move out of your line of fire.

“Let’s go get some air before you ruin your career” a voice spoke sternly yet quiet enough to keep the demand just between the two of you. You looked up

“Yoongi… What the fuck, I’m not…”

“You’re telling me you’re not on your way over there to attack that asshole?”

“He deserves it” you spat

“I’m not disputing that, outside now and cool down” he applied more pressure to your wrist, the way he was glaring at you, you knew he wasn’t backing down on his. Your rage hit a wall and sat simmering on hold. You rolled your eyes as he essentially escorted you out of the building.

[sandwichpress]

I end up with a box on my head.

Signal Day 13

I guess this is a rant / super long post/word dump. Yay! 

Again I spent most of my time trying to think up of ideas. In the end I mostly reiterated on what I’ve done yesterday.

I tried attaching a hat to the box so that I could wear it and walk up to people and see if the stick their hands in it. Sadly I needed something stronger than tape to keep the box on the hat as when I tried to move around with the box on my head the tape just fell of and the box ended up covering my head. We all laughed, it was fun I guess.

While I wasn’t really able to test the box, I still think that it is a viable avenue of testing. It seems to attract people’s attention and makes them want to put their hands in the box. Why this is I have no idea. It might be because you don’t see a person with a box on top of their head everyday and they want to know why its there. Or it might be because they want to feel what’s in the box, maybe see if they can feel my head when they stick their hands in. It could also be that those people yesterday were trying to annoy me, I have no idea. I do know however that if I continue with the hat box it would definitely be some sort of spectacle and I’m not sure if that is quite what we want. It is definitely more social as one would have to interact with the person wearing the hat. But I’m not too entirely convinced it would spark people’s curiosity in a way that would cause them to wonder more about things in their everyday lives.

The second prototype I tried today was essentially the same box but I had people stick their hands in the box and shake hands with me, while we both had our hands inside. I had people do this for a couple of reasons. The first of which is the fact that handshakes are a social action, they are what you do when you want to greet someone in a friendly manner. The second reason is a bit more difficult to explain.

My initial plan was to have a wall separating the two sides of the box. On each side there would be a sign that would prompt people to shake hands via the box. I was thinking this was a something I should try as I thought it could pique people’s curiosity, would there be someone else on the other side of the box? What if they’re holding something strange? etc. After the interaction is done people might wonder who they shook hands with, maybe question how confident they are with interacting with other people, etc. If that is the case, it would tie in very nicely with our goal of sparking curiosity and hopefully getting someone to question the objects/ people they interact with everyday.

The paragraph above is just conjecture however, as my test today was slightly different. I got a handful of people from the class, as well as everyone in my group to shake hands with me in the box. Most of them said it was weird, that is to be expected I guess. What was interesting though was that most people were fine with me shaking hands with them normally, but when I introduced the box to the equation almost everyone was hesitant to shake hands with me. When I asked them if a divider between the two sides of the box would change the experience most people said they didn’t know, so I guess the only logical answer to that would be to test it. The problem is I’m not sure how to test the box with the wall/divider. The divider would need a fair bit of materials, and quite a bit of space. I’m also not sure how I would observe how people respond to the box.

I think I will continue attempting to prototype the hat box on Monday as that seems like I would be able to test it faster.

I also made a prototype for touch and curiosity.

It was to see if people can finish a maze puzzle purely through touch. I thought it would be an interesting avenue to go through because when we tested for cheating, people seemed to be really into the puzzles. Occasionally somebody will pick up the puzzles on our table and mess them up and solve them, so I think that was enough justification to try that out. I made a little box thing with a piece of paper at the bottom and I would cover the top of it with an opaque material. The problem was that I could not feel the marble as it rolled around on the piece of paper. Maybe it’s the weight of the marble or the thickness of the piece of paper, but I will definitely try to make a version 2 of that and have people test it.

Final thing, yay!

While I was bashing my head trying to think up of how to include a social aspect to our project, I came across the 5 Dimensional curiosity scale (Kashdan 2018). To summarize, there are 5 states of curiosity.

Joyous Exploration - the desire to seek information and knowledge

Deprivation Sensitivity - Thinking about abstract ideas, etc.

Stress tolerance - Is about how well one copes with the emotions brought about by the new, unexpected events.

Social Curiosity - wanting to know what others are up to.

Thrill seeking- the willingness to take on risks. 

That was just a general summary of what the 5 dimensions of curiosity are. I think I want to try to focus more on either Deprivation Sensitivity or Social Curiosity. This is because Deprivation Sensitivity drives people to learn more and that is what we’re trying to achieve as a sort of secondary goal of our project, to take that curiosity we’ve sparked in people and have them apply it to something in their everyday life. Social Curiosity on the other hand was kind of what Ben was suggesting I prototype or find out, see how people respond to others’ curiosity and what they do about it.

This was a super long and boring post, so for making it to the end of this one you deserve a reward. So here, have a photo of me with a box on my head. Thanks Qiyue...

What are the Five-Dimensions of Curiosity?; Todd B. Kashdan (2018) ; retrieved from https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/curious/201801/what-are-the-five-dimensions-curiosity on 5/23/19

[casbeth19]

It’s 2:00am, and just a day away from the Big Day.

Yes, I said 2:00am. 2:00am and I have become quite close acquaintances lately, as I have with 3:00am, 4:00am and particularly 5:00am. It’s amazing what your brain dreams up at this hour. How many dowels will I need to stop the cakes sinking into oblivion? Would the Leaning Tower of Cake be a good look? What if my dress suddenly shrinks 2 sizes on the morning of the wedding? What if we get 6ft of snow? You name it, and I’ve worried about it. However, a little herbal collection of sleeping remedies has helped considerably in the last week. For some reason, I thought that I’d sleep well tonight, so didn’t bother!

So, here I am at 2:00am, drinking a cup of tea and thinking about the last 18 months or so. It’s been hard work, no doubt about that, but so exciting. When the midwife first presents you with your new baby daughter, you start thinking about this day. An old-fashioned view, maybe, but still such an important occasion. We have been through so much planning together. The bride has definite ideas about how she wants things to look, taste and sound, but of course we have to still explore all other options too! The groom has been very calm, saying yay or nay to the various suggestions. No wonder they work so well together.

All the jobs are pretty much done now, even the cake, which has been the cause of many a stressful nocturnal hour. All we have left is to enjoy it, and enjoy it we will. Will there be tears? Oh, you bet! There’ll be bucketloads, and not just from me, although I’m sure to make a significant contribution.

Have I enjoyed it? Yes, definitely. There have been ups and downs, obviously, but mostly ups. It’s been...joyous. It will be something to treasure for ever, a once in a lifetime experience...until of course, daughter #2 decides to get wed!!

[aion-rsa]

Doctor Who: Ranking Every Single Companion Departure

https://ift.tt/35el4vd

Graham and Ryan have left Doctor Who, and it was sad/joyous/on telly (delete as applicable), but where do their departures rank on the all-time list?

The question of “Who counts as a companion?” is a tricky one. Overall it’s an ad hoc combination of different criteria, with allowances made for the exceptions that are intended to fulfil the companion role on a one-off basis. The ranking system is based on whether the departure makes sense for that character, how well it’s built up to, and what it says about Doctor Who in a larger sense. The article only covers TV stories because I value what remains of my sanity.

That’s all the exposition. Please enjoy this non-linear history of production compromises.

47. Peri

Peri spends almost her entire time on Doctor Who being miserable, scared and under threat (even Big Finish doing a timey-wimey farce with Peri has abuse as a plot point), but there’s no compassionate release for her. Her mind is erased so her body can host another. She dies scared and alone, and it’s unlikely the Doctor could have saved her. While this is horrible, it could function, very bluntly, as an indictment of the Doctor and his treatment of Peri, but then it is revealed that this didn’t happen.

Peri is instead married with a pink love-heart around the flashback (the Matrix is corny AF apparently). This is because producer John Nathan-Turner changed his mind about killing Peri after they’d filmed her death. 

On one hand: yay, someone not dying. On the other: she only goes to a slightly better place, and when companions return from the dead it tends to require some cost to the Doctor. Here, any previous suggestion that the Doctor mistreated his companion is abandoned. Peri’s happy ending, rather than death, is that the Doctor abandons her without explanation and her new husband is an angry warlord who doesn’t seem the type to understand PTSD.

46. Leela

Producer Graeme Williams hoped that Louise Jameson would stay on in the role of Leela, despite Jameson insisting that she was leaving, and so didn’t write the character out. Leela was a warrior, intelligent but steeped in tribal superstition, and the investment in making a potentially problematic character work in her earlier stories gave way to more generic writing, hence Jameson’s departure. At the end of ‘Invasion of Time’ Leela abruptly announces that she wants to marry the Captain of the Time Lords’ Guards.

To borrow a term from critical theory: this is total f****** dogs***.

Jameson was happy for the character to be killed off but instead she ended up married on Gallifrey. We never see her again. It’s a lazy piece of writing; disrespectful to the actress, the character and the viewer.

45. Dodo

Poor Dodo never really stood a chance. Originally intended to be from Sixteenth Century France, producer John Wiles and script editor Donald Tosh remembered that previous historical companions had been deemed unworkable and so another was probably a bad idea. Instead, Dodo started off Cockney until the BBC told the Doctor Who team that she had to speak in Received Pronunciation English.

A happy-go-lucky soul, the production team never warmed to their creation and Dodo is sent away to recover from hypnosis halfway through ‘The War Machines’, and we never see her again. Polly tells the Doctor “she’d like to stay here in London and sends you her love” two episodes after her final appearance.

44. Sergeant Benton & 43. Harry Sullivan

Sergeant Benton and Harry Sullivan appear in ‘The Android Invasion’ as if it’s just another story for them. Benton last appears as an android duplicate and Harry says nothing during the final fight scene. They never appear again. For all of the strengths of early Tom Baker stories, emotional resonance is not one of them.

42. Katarina

Katarina was brought in for the final episode of ‘The Myth Makers’as a replacement for Vicki, and then sacrificed herself in ‘The Dalek Master Plan’. The production team had decided that, as a Trojan handmaiden, Katarina’s ignorance of modern and future technology meant she’d be hard to write for. This makes sense to an extent, except that her death involves her activating an airlock. So we have a production team creating a problem but solving it by suggesting that it wasn’t insurmountable anyway. As the Doctor says at the end of ‘Dalek Master Plan’: “What a waste.”

41. Sara Kingdom

Having killed off Katarina, the production team needed a new companion to fill her role for the rest of ‘The Dalek Master Plan’, so Terry Nation wrote in a Space Security Agent inspired by The Avengers’ Cathy Gale. After killing her own brother, believing him to be a traitor, Sara Kingdom joined the Doctor and Steven’s attempts to stop the Daleks from using the Time Destructor. Ultimately Sara is killed by the device, ageing to death. As the planet around them turns to dust, Sara’s body does likewise and is blown away by the wind.

It’s a horrific fate, to the extent that cuts were made to the sequence. Sara Kingdom was always designed as a short-term companion, and actor Jean Marsh wasn’t interested in joining the show permanently.

Companion deaths aren’t intrinsically a bad idea, it’s just that they can’t be regular, expected events or else the show becomes ‘Come with me for an adventure, you’ll probably die. Yes I’m a psychopath’. They’re usually short-term solutions to mistakes but the momentum of the Doctor’s failures here could have gone somewhere. Instead, the show casually resets itself to the status quo on a flimsy pretext, so these deaths mean little. If Doctor Who doesn’t care about their impact, why should the audience?

40. Liz Shaw

New producer Barry Letts had decided that Liz Shaw was too intelligent to be a Doctor Who companion, and the interpretation most generous to Letts here is that Liz wanted to continue her own work rather than be drafted by UNIT as an assistant. While I hope this was the intention, it’s still a move that implies a reductive take on the role of the companion (that they’re a function rather than a character) and reinforces the paternalism of the Doctor: fatherly, yes, but also dominating and controlling.

39. Polly and Ben

Polly and Ben follow the Doctor into the TARDIS in ‘The War Machines’ and discover at the end of ‘The Faceless Ones’ that they’re back in London just when they left. They ask the Doctor his permission to leave, saying they’ll stay if he needs them. The Doctor is sad to see them go but doesn’t stand in their way, although he does suggest that Ben can go back to the Navy to become an admiral and Polly can… look after Ben.

It’s a pat, patronising little scene that comes and goes suddenly, especially as Polly and Ben haven’t actually been in the story since Episode Two. Polly and Ben leave and the Doctor and Jamie immediately start talking about their next adventure.  The production team had decided the characters weren’t working, and the best you can say is that they were given slightly more ceremony than Dodo.

38. Astrid Peth

The thing about Astrid’s death is that it’s impossible to type ‘She pushes a mugging gold-toothed businessman down a ravine using a fork-lift truck (in slow motion)’ in a way that conveys any sense of pathos. People talk about Andrew Cartmel’s time on Doctor Who influencing Russell T. Davies’ approach, and while they’re wrong (RTD would have written it like that anyway, even if the Cartmel era didn’t exist, but fair play to Cartmel for being on that wavelength) few ever mention ‘Time and the Rani’as an influence. Russell T. Davies’ writing sometimes feels like he’s gleefully trying to combine the tone of Sylvester-McCoy-playing-the-spoons-on-Kate-O’Mara-while-Kate-O’Mara-is-dressed-as-Bonnie-Langford, with the opening ten minutes of Up. Sometimes he actually does it! This was not one of those times.

37. Adric

The Davison companions tend to get good leaving stories that are apparently based on some unbroadcast version of Doctor Who in which they’re completely different people.

So on one hand obviously the death of Adric was a memorable piece of television that affected people deeply on broadcast, but on the other hand it’s a glorified jump-scare. Adric is on board a space freighter about to crash onto prehistoric Earth and cause the extinction of the dinosaurs. He doesn’t know about that last bit, so instead of getting into the escape pod he attempts to solve a logic puzzle that is stopping him from controlling the ship. His bravery in going back to the ship doesn’t achieve anything. In fact if he had succeeded it would have changed history dramatically, so he dooms himself for nothing.

It’s brutal, in comparison with earlier companion deaths the emotional fallout is poorly handled, and it doesn’t pay off anything we’ve seen earlier. Consider Adric’s character up until his final story – a reckless know-it-all who keeps joining the bad guys – and it doesn’t join up with his final story and fate. The initial setup of Adric feeling like an outsider is swiftly resolved rather than used as motivation for his death. There’s no redemption, just a cruel and unlucky moment of bravery for the sake of a semblance of drama.

36. Amy and Rory

Steven Moffat’s first companion departures are not his best work. Initially Amy and Rory broke a trend: companions leaving as they get married off. Only then Moffat wrote a poorly handled pregnancy storyline where the characters’ emotional responses felt implausible, and unlike his softening of the Twelfth Doctor’s character the attempts to address this were bumpy. Then for Amy and Rory’s departure he has River Song, the Doctor’s wife who he rarely meets in chronological order, tell them that he doesn’t like endings and “never let him see you age”.

This reminds you that the Doctor isn’t only manipulative and scheming on an epic scale, and the fact that he tries to convince Amy not to try to go after Rory continues is more in-your-face selfishness (another example of the Seventh Doctor era being on similar wavelengths to the post-2005 show), rather than feeling like a genuine concern for her safety.

Now, I love Doctor Who, I like that the hero is flawed but that they try to be hopeful (and Moffat addresses this successfully elsewhere). The issues with giving the Doctor flaws are whether they’re dealbreakers for people watching, and whether or not they’re deliberately done. This feels like it’s aiming for a commentary on the Doctor but goes too far, and I can understand people finding this hard to watch.

As with many of Moffat’s ideas, just because it didn’t fully work here doesn’t mean it won’t crop up again later.

35. Kamelion

There are a lot of cases of a companion leaving because the production team can’t make them work, but this is a bit on the nose.

Like Adric’s death, Kamelion begging the Doctor to destroy him would have much more impact if it followed through more substantially on previous stories. Unfortunately Kamelion’s character was that of a shape-shifting robot where the robot prop didn’t work, and rather than have him just assume a human guise they simply never wrote him back into the series until his final story. As a result, there’s no real relationship in play when the Doctor grants Kamelion’s wish. On the other hand the robot’s plight is consistent with what little we know of him.

While it’s never fun to watch someone beg for death, it’s more of a testament to Gerald Flood’s acting and Peter Grimwade’s script for ‘Planet of Fire’ that his death scene works.

34. Donna Noble

Everyone remembers the sequence in ‘Journey’s End’ where the companions pilot the TARDIS and drag the Earth back to the right place while “Song for Freedom” builds and Freema Agyeman looks directly at the camera. It’s joyous. It’s huge. It’s wonderful.

The 10 minutes that follow are bleak.

Rose gets her compromised happy ending, then it’s the fate of Donna. She gets given some of the Doctor’s mind, becomes even more brilliant, but then comes the turn: this will kill her. She can’t be this brilliant, she can’t have any more adventures with the Doctor. As she shouts “No” the Doctor wipes her memories of their time together.

33. Lady Christina de Souza

Flying off in a knackered double-decker bus to further adventures is a really good way to go. This would rank higher if it weren’t for the fact that the character is hard to warm to. Unlike Donna Noble’s first appearance in the show, Christina’s role in ‘Planet of the Dead’ doesn’t allow for much pathos or depth, and the character never returned on television to show these. As it is we’re left with a bored member of the aristocracy flying away in some very British iconography, but without the promise of a Barbara Wright figure puncturing their ego.

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32. Mel

It’s worth stressing that any critique of Mel as a character has to firmly centre on the inadequacy of her creation. She was devised as a computer programmer from Pease Pottage who was into keep-fit, and that’s her entire character. It seems churlish to criticise Bonnie Langford for playing the part as “Bonnie Langford in Doctor Who” because there was nothing else for her to go on.

Mel leaves the series because she decides to travel with Glitz, a mercenary. Does this follow on logically from her character? All we know about Mel is that she’s wholesome and enthusiastic and seems extremely unlikely to go off with a violent intergalactic Del Boy.

However, she gets another leaving scene that would be wonderful if it reflected a recognisable character. We get a sense of the Doctor’s affection for Mel and a series of wonderful melancholy moments: the Doctor shutting the conversation down so he doesn’t have to deal with human emotion, his obvious sadness at another friend leaving because that’s what his life is. Mel’s last line about putting a message in a bottle and throwing it into space (“It’ll reach you. In time”) is brilliant.

This scene bears comparison with Sarah Jane’s leaving scene, specifically because it wasn’t in the original script but the lead actor insisted it be added in its place. It was the scene Sylvester McCoy read when he auditioned for the role.

31. Adam Mitchell

Adam joins at the end of ‘Dalek’ and leaves at the end of ‘The Long Game’, the next story, and has a piece of future technology in his forehead so whenever someone clicks their fingers a little door opens up and you can see his brain.

Yes, in the grand scheme of things this is unfair. Other companions have done stupid things and the Doctor has helped them. The Brigadier flat out murdered people. But Adam was deliberately rubbish and this is reminder that the Ninth Doctor is a damaged man who lashes out. When he says ‘I only take the best’ it seems more like an excuse to get rid of Adam than anything factual, but then the Doctor starts acting like it’s true. 

30. Vicki

Vicki left the series because producer John Wiles heard actress Maureen O’Brien complain about her dialogue in ‘Galaxy 4’, so decided to let her go when her contract expired one story later. This led to her being paired off with Troilus at the end of ‘The Myth Makers’, set during the fall of Troy. A late decision requiring rewrites, this is quite an enigmatic fate. We see Vicki fleeing Troy after its fall with Troilus, the Doctor hopeful that she’s safe, but we never see her again. Given the TARDIS’ translation gifts, one imagines she suddenly has to learn Luwian.

29. Nyssa

Nyssa, a scientist/fairy princess mash-up whose entire family and planet was destroyed by the Master (who took over her father’s body) could be a great character. Her innately calm, generous and curious nature contrasted with all the horrors of her past is full of potential, and indeed her choice to stay behind at what is essentially a space leper colony is consistent with this. However, because none of this is ever seriously addressed in the show, the potential pathos of her leaving is greatly reduced. As is often the case we have to make do with a sad leaving scene, where Tegan flat out says to her “You’ll die here” to which she replies “Not easily. Like you I’m indestructible.”

As with Adric’s death, there’s the vague shape of something weighty and dramatic there but without the substance to fill it. John Nathan-Turner hated soaps, but actually using their techniques might have given us a stronger sense of Nyssa and Tegan’s relationship, meaning the audience wasn’t left to fill the gaps.

28. Jackson Lake

Considering during the course of ‘The Next Doctor’ Jackson Lake is in a fugue state, has a breakdown, remembers the death of his wife and the abduction of his child… he seems quite well adjusted by the end of the story. Reunited with his son and suggesting a Christmas dinner honouring the people they’ve lost, Lake seems to be in a better place than the Doctor.

27. Steven Taylor

Steven went through a lot: Wounded in Troy, witnessing the deaths of Katarina, Sara, and the Huguenots of Paris. Initially conceived as a replacement for Ian, meaning he took on most of the action sequences, he leaves in ‘The Savages’ to mediate between two societal factions after a story designed as a more cerebral alternative to biffing. It’s a good place to leave for a character who had stagnated (which, as you can see, happened a lot).

26. Graham and 25. Ryan

Ryan didn’t get killed or converted by Cybermen, so that’s progress. What did happen is that the Doctor accidentally returned to Sheffield ten months late. Yaz is hurt and Ryan returns more comfortably to his old life. Graham is also there.

The returning character of Robertson, an American tycoon with interests in becoming President functions as both a Doctor Who villain and a Donald Trump analogue (in a story universe containing Donald Trump) and this version of Doctor Who isn’t currently capable of dealing with that. Ryan watches Robertson on telly, unpunished by the Doctor and resolves to do something. This is a good reason to go, especially given the concerns of the Chibnall era (at its best focussing on the impact on well-drawn individuals, at its worst expositing over abstractions and sketches).

Graham decides that he will stay with his grandson after Ryan’s sudden announcement. This pays off their development in Series 11, where they had the main character arc of that series.

So far so good, but we also see Graham and Ryan deciding that, actually no, they’re not going to deal with real world problems, just Doctor Who-style adventures instead. It’s a useful microcosm of the era: good ideas present but not followed through on, being not shown Ryan’s reasons for leaving, and not successfully tethering the characters to either the forced whimsy of Doctor Who or the contemporary societal issues it wants to highlight.

And a final issue, which may be resolved: why is this the break-up of The Fam?

This ending doesn’t preclude the Doctor coming back to visit them in any way. In this respect it’s a classic companion departure: practically speaking actors aren’t always free for a cameo or a return visit (for example William Russell wasn’t ultimately available to play Ian Chesterton for ‘Mawdryn Undead’, so the Brigadier was written into the role of a school teacher instead), which means the Doctor not returning for their friends becomes a feature of the character. So while Ryan and Graham are choosing to leave, rather than being drastically and permanently separated, is the Doctor is still making the decision to cut them out of her life?

24. Mickey Smith

Mickey is given, in ‘The Age of Steel’, a proper old-fashioned companion exit, by which I mean some plot points are introduced at the start of his final story and by the end they’ve caused him to leave. Here it’s based on the Doctor and Rose’s behaviour and Mickey’s worth being dismissed until he does something heroic. He’s finally able to say to Rose that she doesn’t need him anymore and move on. Broad brushstrokes stuff in a busy episode, but it continues the idea that the Doctor makes people better that was emphasised from 2005 onwards.

Sure, he does it by being a bit of a prick here but the point stands.

23. The Brigadier

What is the Brigadier’s final story? I’m looking for a story that is written as a final departure, ideally after sustained involvement in the show. For the Brigadier that means ‘Terror of the Zygons’ doesn’t quite work, it wasn’t meant to be his final story (he was unavailable for ‘The Android Invasion’). ‘Battlefield’might have been his final bow, but writer Ben Aaronovitch set up the Brigadier’s death then found he simply couldn’t kill him off. The episode the Brigadier is initially written out of the show in is ‘The Wedding of River Song’ – where the Doctor receives news of his death by phone – and this is swiftly retconned with the divisive Cyber-Brig from ‘Death in Heaven’.

These two were written after Nicholas Courtney’s death, and the first one is used for dramatic weight but is over with too quickly. The latter does show the Brigadier, even in death and converted, saving the life of his daughter and helping the Doctor before going on to possibly eternal life – as seems right and proper – but as it involves the Brigadier’s buried body being reanimated there’s an invasive element connected to a beloved figure. As with many of Steven Moffat’s ideas, just because it didn’t fully work here doesn’t mean it won’t crop up again later.

22. Turlough

Peter Grimwade deserves credit again. Given the job of writing out Turlough, Kamelion and potentially the Master while also writing in the new companion Peri, Grimwade actually makes the brief for ‘Planet of Fire’ work. Here Turlough realises early on that his home planet is involved, and by involving his family Grimwade makes the stakes personal. Turlough also gets to use his brains here, rather than just wander around with a gun looking scared.

Turlough’s departure is developed through this story, and the farewell scene is a low-key goodbye as he admits that travelling with the Doctor has made him a better person. Again, it doesn’t follow from previous episodes, as Turlough isn’t developed as a character after ‘Enlightenment’, but in the context of this story it works well.

21. Mike Yates

An example of Barry Letts and script editor Terrance Dicks addressing how being a regular Doctor Who character might make you feel, Captain Mike Yates is shaken by his hypnosis when undercover at a petrochemical company and becomes concerned about the environment. He falls in with a plot to reduce overpopulation and restore Earth to a golden age by time scooping dinosaurs into central London, because Doctor Who, and is discharged from UNIT. He goes to a meditation centre to recover, and uncovers a sinister plot – because Doctor Who– and ultimately gets better. Yates gets an arc and closure, especially in comparison to his fellow UNIT soldiers.

20. Nardole

Nardole, chiefly a comic relief character with moments of depth, is entrusted with the task of evading the Cybermen for as long as possible while keeping a group of humans alive (a continuation from his assigned role of monitoring the Doctor). It seems likely they will eventually fall, and though this is de-emphasised to stop an already tragic episode from overloading, it’s quietly harrowing. Adric’s death shook up the children watching, Nardole’s affects the parents: the feeling of being a guardian to children in an uncertain, dangerous world is all too familiar right now.

19. Sarah Jane Smith

Sarah Jane’s departure in ‘The Hand of Fear’(written by Bob Baker and Dave Martin) comes out of the blue. An early outline for the story involved the Brigadier’s death, sacrificing himself to save the world. This was lost in development, and the story delayed while it was simplified. In the meantime Elisabeth Sladen asked to leave and for Sarah not to be the focus, married or killed off. Sarah was going to be killed off though, in a story called ‘The Lost Legion’. Script Editor Robert Holmes disliked the story, so a simplified version of ‘The Hand of Fear’returned to replace it with Holmes writing Sarah’s leaving scene. This was rewritten by Sladen and Tom Baker, with Holmes unavailable to do further rewrites. This is why Sarah’s departure is sudden. There’s no huge focus on her and then unrelated to the rest of the story the Doctor receives a summons to Gallifey where humans are not allowed (and given what happened last time he went he probably doesn’t want to take Sarah). What the scene does have is a strong sense of the unsaid to it, a sense of wistfulness akin to seeing someone else living in your childhood home.

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18. Wilf

Essentially, if Bernard Cribbins is crying then I’m going to cry. It’s Bernard Cribbins, for god’s sake. He’s so lovable its actually weaponised against the audience, and while ‘The End of Time’ might not be to everyone’s tastes, Cribbins makes every scene he’s in work, so you’re thoroughly invested in Wilf and his responses. However, this is harks back to Susan’s departure. It’s undeniably moving that the Doctor is making this man cry with happiness… after lying to him (no mention of the safeguards he put in Donna’s mind, or that Donna didn’t want her memories wiped anyway) and who he emphasises is “not remotely important” before saying it would “be my honour” to save him. It’s said of the Doctor “words are his weapons” in ‘Hell Bent’, and the pattern emerging here is that they’re weapons he uses on his friends; when the Doctor says “I only take the best” this is not only another weapon, it’s asking the question: the best for what?

17. Bill Potts

Potentially eternal life you say? A walking dead person? Maybe keep the dead body aspect of it and this idea has legs. Bill follows the Brigadier in becoming a Cyberman, and Clara in returning from the dead to travel the universe. The images of Cyber-Bill carrying the Doctor, the reaffirmation of who Bill is, the arrival of Heather: all of these are great.

Steven Moffat was right that the show hadn’t been diverse enough in its casting, but presumably no one behind the scenes understood that there are unintended connotations to a white man telling a black woman that she can’t be angry if she wants to be accepted – as happens to Bill in ‘The Doctor Falls’ – or that Clara got a gore-free death compared to the lingering shots of Bill’s gunshot wound. There’s also ambiguity in ‘Twice Upon a Time’as to when Bill dies – in that episode she is represented by an avatar taken from a moment near death, but given everything that’s happened to Bill this could be tomorrow or in a million years’ time – so overall this one has some extreme highs and lows.

16. Romana and K9

After Mary Tamm left the show, feeling similarly to Louise Jameson that despite a strong start her character was reverting to the stock companion figure (a damsel in distress, tripping ankles, screaming for help to advance the plot that’s being explained to them) Romana regenerated with Lalla Ward taking over the role. Ward left the show as new producer John Nathan-Turner came on board, and while Romana’s departure was foreshadowed well in advance, Nathan-Turner didn’t want any soap opera elements creeping into Doctor Who, and so Romana’s farewell scene was understated and rushed against Ward’s wishes. Otherwise it’s a good exit for Romana, who refuses a summons to Gallifrey and, finding herself in another dimension, decides to go off on her own journey after her travels with the Doctor.

K9 goes with her because John Nathan-Turner hated K9. Compared to ‘School Reunion’ this is just completely dismissive, but there is at least a coda: another scene at the end of ‘Warriors’ Gate’ where K9 and Romana face their future together with optimism, and Adric asks the Doctor if Romana will be alright: “Alright? She’ll be superb.”

15. Susan Foreman

The first companion departure, and something of a template. Susan falls in love and stays behind. Actress Carole Ann Ford left as she was unsatisfied by Susan’s lack of development.

It’s the Doctor’s decision to leave Susan, his granddaughter, behind. He locks the doors on her, believing that she stands a better chance of happiness staying on Earth rebuilding after a Dalek invasion. William Hartnell didn’t want Ford to leave and channels that into his performance. A clip of this scene was used to represent Hartnell at the beginning of the twentieth anniversary special ‘The Five Doctors’, and with Susan’s fate unconfirmed after The Time War his line ‘One day I shall come back’ lands even heavier: we know he never did.

No wonder he never comes back for anybody else.

14. Captain Jack

‘The Parting of the Ways’ is Jack’s departure story as it’s his last as a regular companion before moving to Torchwood.

Torchwood was not announced until after Series 1 of Doctor Who, and so when it became clear that Jack – with his cheesy grin and action hero posturing – was going to die, it was unexpected. There’s a sense of inevitability about the Daleks killing him when everyone else is dead but, because this was a new series, it was never clear how far it would go. Maybe there’d be a last-minute reprieve. Ultimately there was, but as far as self-contained character arcs go Jack’s journey from con-man to sacrificial hero works, and if it had ended there, it’d have been on a high.

13. Adelaide Brooke

In Base Under Siege stories we have the stock character of a distrusting commander who doesn’t get along with the Doctor. A fun idea in ‘The Waters of Mars’ is ‘Hey, what if they were the companion for one episode?’

One of the less fun but still powerful ideas is also that the Doctor’s behaviour be so unnerving that this stock character would kill themselves in response. So here we have someone standing up to the Doctor as he states the laws of time “are mine, and they will obey me!” What’s interesting is that this is not dissimilar to the standard companion departure, but operating in the epic register rather than a more intimate one. The Doctor has previous on saying that companions have to leave and not giving them a choice, but here the controlling behaviour is scaled upwards to time itself. Possibly the show was not ready to explore this explicitly in a smaller scale just yet.

12. Grace Holloway

Sneaking in unnoticed is the fact that Grace Holloway, the one-off companion for the 1996 TV Movie, ends the film by kissing the Doctor at midnight under the fireworks but refusing to go with him because her experiences have given her renewed self-confidence. Grace is that rarest of things – a Doctor Who companion who gets to leave on her own terms without the Doctor being a dick about it.

11. Ian Chesterton

Ian and Barbara are the first humans in Doctor Who to explore the universe in the TARDIS, taken away by force when the Doctor kidnaps them. Initially they want to return home, but this desire fades. However, when they’re presented with a chance they take it. As a contrast to Susan’s departure, Ian and Barbara’s departure is joyful as it turns out that you cantravel with the Doctor and leave on your own terms as richer, fuller people.

10. Rose Tyler

Rose and the Doctor. The Doctor and Rose. It’s easy to lose track – amidst the melodrama, epic gestures and various tensions – of the way Series 2 sets up Rose and the Doctor being torn apart almost straight away. They’re so wrapped up in how much fun they’re having that it stops them from noticing other people’s feelings. It becomes clear that had the Doctor and Rose done this, the Torchwood Institute wouldn’t exist, so Harriet Jones wouldn’t have had a weapon to fire at the Sycorax in the preceding Christmas episode. However, the show is also telling you that Rose and the Doctor being split up is a colossal tragedy; performances, visuals and music tell you this is incredibly sad while the stories are reminding you they’ve contributed to their own downfall.

This is a companion departure with the heartbreak turned up to 11, to the point where the pretty loud “Brought this on themselves” track can get lost in the mix. Here’s the beginnings of companions burning out rather than fading away.

There’s also the unfortunate business where Rose Tyler, the beloved character who helped bring Doctor Who back as a critical and popular success, rips holes in the universe to find the man she loves.

Said man takes her back to the place she had the worst time of her life, gives her a genocidal sex clone and then quietly leaves when she’s making out with it.

9. Ace

Bearing in mind that Ace has left Doctor Who in so many different canons over the years, it’s specifically her departure in ‘Survival’ that I’m taking as her final story. I’m heavily indebted to Una McCormack’s book on ‘The Curse of Fenric’ here, as it makes the very good point that for everything that could happen to Ace – whatever fates spin-off media has in store for her – there’s nothing quite as perfect for where Ace has reached at the end of Season 26 as the promise of further adventures, the possibility of joy rather than darkness, an ellipsis rather than a full stop.

8. Barbara

Why is Barbara’s departure better than Ian’s? Because:

In ‘An Unearthly Child’ the Doctor asks them “What is going to happen to you?”, the single most important question in the entire series. Firstly because that is half the format of Doctor Who, and secondly because the other half is the same question in reverse. If Barbara Wright doesn’t happen to Doctor Who, then Doctor Who is a short lived 1960s sci-fi show about a cantankerous old git who kidnapped some school teachers (Missing presumed wiped).

7. Zoe and 6. Jamie

Zoe and Jamie both leave suddenly at the end of ‘The War Games’. Patrick Troughton was leaving and the actors decided to go with him, and that sense of an era ending bled into the fiction. 

At the end of ‘The War Games’ the Time Lords are named and appear for the first time, represented by a group of solemn men in robes who wield immense and ineffable power. The Doctor is put on trial for stealing the TARDIS and interfering on other worlds. His companions are returned to a time after their first meeting with the Doctor, their memories of their travels erased. This isn’t built up to, but there’s a general sense of unease in the final few episodes and the Time Lords seem aloof enough to mete out this sort of punishment.

Jamie and Zoe try to escape with the Doctor, but when they’re recaptured he gives up. With Patrick Troughton’s Doctor this is especially shocking, and it’s only his melancholy resignation that convinces them to give up too. Zoe ends up back on a space station, and knows there’s something she can’t quite remember, but with Jamie – who has been with the Second Doctor for almost the entire incarnation – he ends up back at the aftermath of Culloden, charging a redcoat. In a kind touch, the redcoat turns and flees, suggesting Jamie might be alright in the aftermath of the battle.

Doctor Who wasn’t really huge on tearjerkers until 2005, but it was very, very good at quiet melancholy.

5. Martha Jones

Martha is in love with the Doctor. The Doctor spends the entire series pining for Rose and being oblivious to this fact.

Martha Jones puts up with a lot, looking after the Doctor while in his human John Smith guise and having to restrain herself while being continually patronised, racially abused and treated like an idiot. She then spends a year travelling the Earth avoiding capture as the Master enslaves and murders the population, holding Martha’s family captive while she does this.

So frankly when Martha says she’s leaving and the Doctor still doesn’t understand why (“Is this going anywhere?”) it’s hugely cathartic for the audience and for someone who deserved better. Some people do get to choose when being with the Doctor stops, and it’s usually great when they do.

4. Jo Grant

However muddled the reasoning behind Jo Grant’s existence, the casting was inspired. Essentially a remix of Jamie (which suggests that Jo and Liz could have worked if Jamie and Zoe did), Jo Grant wasn’t the brightest but wasn’t stupid, and was incredibly loyal and brave.

With the Doctor’s paternal streak fully activated, the production team decided that Jo falling in love and telling the Doctor “he reminds me of a sort of younger you” would be exactly what the Doctor didn’t want to hear. In contrast to Victoria’s departure and the Doctor’s selflessness there, the Doctor doesn’t do what Mike Yates does when marriage is announced (looks upset and does his best to mask it) but instead quietly slips out and drives away by himself. The fact that he leaves in a way that suggests jealousy or loneliness is a huge change; now we see the Doctor closer to Susan’s position and he does not like it.

3. Tegan

Coming at the end of ‘Resurrection of the Daleks’, where she’s seen a lot of people killed and the Doctor pick up a gun and announce that he’s going to kill Davros (who Tegan presumably hasn’t heard of), Tegan’s leaving scene is very close to being perfect.

Firstly there’s the line “It’s stopped being fun”, which begs the question of when it started being fun for her, but that’s ignorable. Secondly, and this is more about personal taste than an inconsistency in characterisation, there’s a case to be made for Less is More here. Tegan runs from the Doctor and Turlough as he begs her not to leave “like this”, which causes the Doctor to consider his actions before he and Turlough leave in the TARDIS. As it’s dematerialising, Tegan runs back in has one final line. For me it’s just a line too far, and Tegan being unable to say anything at all would have been more powerful, especially for the self-described “mouth on legs”.

However, that’s more window dressing rather than substance: the reasons for Tegan leaving are excellent: it’s a commentary on the stories and Doctor we’ve seen recently, and a plausible emotional response to them. It sets the Doctor on his way to ‘The Caves of Androzani’ where the show comes even closer than ever to paying off a sustained period of grimdark storytelling. Adric’s death might be more famous, but Tegan’s departure is much better writing from Eric Saward and deserves more plaudits for it.

2. Victoria

Actor Deborah Watling wanted to leave, and so Victoria goes in ‘Fury from the Deep’. Here the character has a plausible response to screaming at monsters and getting into trouble: she leaves. She says that she’s having a miserable time screaming and getting into trouble, but isn’t sure if she can go: her father died saving the Doctor, she’s an orphan out of her own time. The Doctor intervenes and suggests a family she can stay with.

Most importantly, the Doctor and Jamie stay an extra day to give her time to think it over, and the Doctor stresses that it must be her decision. On top of this, the final scene of the episode is the Doctor quietly trying to make Jamie feel better about her leaving. Rather than the usual one scene and gone deal we have something drawn out, stemming from character, full of warmth and empathy.

1. Clara Oswald

Potentially eternal life you say? A walking dead person? Maybe lose the dead body aspect of it and this idea has legs. ‘Hell Bent’ is a divisive episode (referential meta-commentary on Doctor Who isn’t what everyone was looking for from a season finale) and the ideas in it are incredibly pointed: the grieving Doctor overthrows Rassilon, shooting a potential ally to retrieve Clara from a moment before her death, and tries to wipe her mind to save her life, addressing the long-term trends of companion departures head on.

Rather than a Gallifreyan epic, this is focussed on one relationship and the shade it casts on the Doctor’s behaviour, all the while dancing in and around threads from other plotlines. The Doctor wanted Gallifrey back so badly, but now it’s simply a means to an end for him to bring Clara back.

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Clara’s final story is often compared to Donna’s departure because of the mindwipe element and the idea of Clara being a Doctor-like figure in her own right – here realised rather than excised – but looking at this list you can see how it harks back all the way to Susan: the Doctor thinks he knows what is best and often gets it wrong, and what seems like extreme behaviour in this story is actually pretty standard. Here he gets properly called out on this behaviour, the show finally able to address this in an intimate rather than epic setting.

The post Doctor Who: Ranking Every Single Companion Departure appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/38mI515

[satyr-syd]

Sero isn’t bothered when Kayama-sensei assigns Bakugou as his partner for a project. Actually, he’s kind of glad. Bakugou is one of his friends, and it doesn’t hurt that in terms of academics, Bakugou is third in their class - definitely the kind of person he wants on his team.

Bakugou doesn’t seem the feel the same. In fact, Sero’s pretty sure he hates group projects. The way he furiously muttered, “I hate group projects,” when Kayama-sensei announced the project kind of gave it away.

They had met at the library after school to talk about the project. Sero already had ideas for topics - the project was a five minute presentation on the societal changes between the second and third quirk generations - but Bakugou shut him down before he could offer a suggestion.

“I’ll have this done by the deadline,” Bakugou says. “So you can leave now.”

Sero pauses from pulling his notebook out of his backpack. “Wait. What?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes. “What the fuck do you think? I’m going to do it myself, obviously.”

Sero is suddenly having second thoughts about having Bakugou as a partner. He knows Bakugou doesn't work well with others, but this seems excessive. “Dude. Hero work is all about collaboration.”

“This isn’t fucking hero work, is it? I can do this better all myself,” Bakugou says. “I’ll put together the presentation. And present it. You can stand there and...change the slides or something.”

Sero isn’t one to get in the way. When the top students like Bakugou or Todoroki or Midoriya went head on in a fight, Sero was more than happy to let them take the lead. He couldn't do anything when villains attacked during the school trip. He hadn't done anything to help Bakugou when he was captured. Even at the sports festival, Sero had let Bakugou make all their decisions, only chipping in when he was needed to pull Bakugou back onto their shoulders.

But in the end, everything had worked itself out, without Sero's active participation. He wasn't needed.

Hero work was one thing - unpredictable, dangerous, and best left to the strongest players. But this was classwork. And Sero felt guilty putting this whole project on Bakugou.

“I can’t just do nothing, man, I want to contribute something,” he says.

Bakugou slams his hands on the table. “I told you, I’ll do it.”

Sero doesn’t even flinch. He’s not intimidated by Bakugou’s aggressive tendencies. “I feel kind of useless, though,” he complains.

“I don’t give a shit,” Bakugou says. “I will do this and I will get us a perfect score, can’t you be satisfied with that?”

Sero bets this was how group projects were for Bakugou in middle school. He would be the super bossy one who took control of the project, and the everyone else would just be happy they could slack off. And hey, Sero was man enough to admit he was sometimes that guy. But that was before - now he’s at U.A. He has to get serious and earn his own grades. “Not if I don’t deserve it,” Sero tells him.

Bakugou groans, reaching into his backpack. “If I give you something to do, will you shut up?”

Sero smirks. “For 8000 dollars, I will stop.”

“The shit does that mean?”

“Just...give me something to do.”

He waits patiently while Bakugou pulls a paper out and shoves it at him. It’s the list of sample topics Kayama gave them. “Pick one.”

Sero glances at the list. Most of the topics seemed pretty boring, and Sero doesn’t even know what most of them are. But he notices that some of them are circled - maybe the ones Bakugou was considering? He picks the most interesting one of those. “How about Quirk Marriages?”

“Fine.” Bakugou snatches the paper back, and starts packing it into his bag. “There. You contributed.”

Just like that, his satisfaction disappears. Poof. Like Thirteen sucked it up and it disappeared into nothing. “Wait - that’s it?”

“Duh, that’s it,” Bakugou says, throwing on his backpack. “I can handle the rest, Soy Sauce Face.”

Sero rolls his eyes at the nickname. “Look, I know you think I’m stupid - and hey, I might be, in comparison to you - but that doesn’t mean I can’t be useful.” Even as the words leave Sero's mouth, he doesn't quite believe them. Was he useful during the end of term exam? Was he useful during the USJ attack?

“How many times do I have to say it to get it through your thick fucking skull?” Bakugou says at a near shout. “I. Don’t. Need. Your. Help!”

By the time the librarian comes to quiet them down with her voice silencing quirk, Bakugou’s long gone, leaving Sero alone, no closer to being useful than before.

To group: bakugou’s harem

snape (snail tape) do u guys ever feel useless

reeeeeed riot. *yum* Yes Wait bro are you feeling useless Because even though youre entitled to your feelings And I get how easy it is to feel like that

its always wednesday did someone call you useless????

reeeeeed riot. *yum* But i think youre really valuable!!!

its always wednesday tell me who ill fite them

reeeeeed riot. *yum* Ashido why must we resort to violence

lightnin mcmeme bro ur lyin if u thikn u wouldnt fight an army for seros honor

reeeeeed riot. *yum* … True

snape (snail tape) i have...the graetest frends

lightnin mcmeme we kno

its always wednesday obvi

reeeeeed riot. *yum* But hey bro are you doing okay?

snape (snail tape) yeah its just u guys have done so much cool shit this year and i have not and i kinda feel like guilty about it? but also like...whatever bc u all can do anything w/o me  

lightnin mcmeme mkay 1st thing: u couldve sent that as 1 text

snape (snail tape) why? does this annoy you?

lightnin mcmeme bruh

reeeeeed riot. *yum* Sero Hanta listen to me right now you are a very valuable human and a great asset to this class. Just because you havent had the chance shown your strengths like everyone else doesnt mean you dont have them or arent useful

its always wednesday what he said! u did amaaaaaazing in the sports festival!

lightnin mcmeme and u passed the hero license exam which even splodey didnt pass

its always wednesday and ur definitely the best at mobility we wouldnt have stood a chance in the cavalry battle w/o u!

reeeeeed riot. *yum* Youre like the tape that holds us together

lightnin mcmeme ur *literaly* the tape that holds us together

its always wednesday plus u came up w all our screen names !! which are cool af!!!!

snape (snail tape) thenks guys that means a lot im feeling a lot better now

reeeeeed riot. *yum* Yay!

its always wednesday yay!!!!!!

lightnin mcmeme glad ur feelin better dude!! but also y did u write thanks like that

snape (snail tape) why did u just double text like that

lightnin mcmeme ....touche

Sero is used to taking the sidelines, but this time will be different. Energized by the support from his friends, Sero vows to prove to Bakugou - and himself - that he’s useful.

He tries to do a bit of research for the project on his own. There’s an article on some online magazine that gives a general history of quirk marriages, from the first quirk marriage to the protests against them. Proud of his find, and much more informed than before, Sero pulls out his phone.

snape (snail tape) hey. found a cool article bout qrk marriage [link]

The Boy Who Cussed I read that shit already

Shit. Of course he had. It was practically the first thing that popped up when he searched  “quirk marriage.”

Sero tries to think of something to say back that won’t make him seem stupid when he sees that Bakugou’s typing something else.

The Boy Who Cussed But if you actually want to be useful Find out the causes leading up to the first quirk marriage protest

Never before has Sero been so excited to do school work. (He probably never would be again.) But getting Bakugou to trust part of their workload to him feels like a victory.

snape (snail tape) yeah np!

When Sero explains to their friends how their project is coming, Ashido claps him on the back. “You like, out-stubborned Bakuboy, which is basically unheard of,” she says. “You’re a force to be reckoned with, Cellophane!”

Sero preens at her praise. He didn’t think of himself as a stubborn guy, but he was persistent when he needed to be.

That wasn’t entirely true, though. Ever since he told his friends how he was feeling on the group chat, he’d been thinking about his place at U.A. Mostly, how he wasn’t persistent about pursuing a spot in the spotlight next to U.A.’s strongest. He had shrugged off his loss at the sports festival. He was the only one who failed the end of term test whose team had beat their hero opponent. He was content to sit back while his friends stormed on ahead of him, blaming his poor results on his less-powerful quirk rather than his relaxed attitude.

That wasn’t any different than sitting back and letting Bakugou do all this work on their project. Ashido called him stubborn, but a truly stubborn person wouldn’t be content with second place. Sure, he felt useless, but he wasn’t doing anything about it. If he really wanted to do better for himself, he’d have to make a bigger effort. Ashido called him stubborn, but a truly stubborn person wouldn’t be content with second place.

snape (snail tape) dude u should come to my dorm we can work on the project together

From The Boy Who Cussed no

snape (snail tape) come on man itll be fun

The Boy Who Cussed This isn’t supposed to be fun, assfuck

snape (snail tape) we can MAKE it fun

The Boy Who Cussed NO

snape (snail tape) what do you have against fun bakugou do u even know what fun is

The Boy Who Cussed OF COURSE I KNOW WHAT FUN IS FUCKTRUCK STOP TEXTING ME IM WORKING

snape (snail tape) r u allergic to fun ill stop if u come over

Bakugou doesn’t reply. Sero hears stomping. Suddenly his door slams open.

Bakugou is absolutely fuming. Smoke is literally coming from his palms. Sero silently counts this as another victory.

He storms into Sero’s room, slamming the door behind him and dropping his stuff on the ground. “I hope you’re fucking happy,” he growls.

“I’m positively joyous.”

Sero looks over the back of his chair, watching Bakugou work.

“So. How’s it coming?” Sero asks. “Were the sources I found useful?”

Without looking up, Bakugou lists off his evaluation. “The first source wasn’t credible. You can’t just cite some rando’s blog.” Sero’s heart plummets. “The second one would have been good - but it was the wrong time period. The third was beyond biased.” He pauses before continuing on. “The last one was...suitable.”

Sero gulps. Next to his past few victories, this is definitely a loss. He’s only proven Bakugou right by giving him these shitty sources.

This is why he usually let the others take the spotlight - they knew what they were doing. They were smart, they were reliable. Maybe Bakugou was right. Maybe he could do this better alone. Maybe Sero really was useless.

“Why the fuck do you want to help so bad anyway?” Bakugou speaks so quietly, Sero almost doesn’t hear him. He’s not even sure if he was supposed to hear him.

Sero decides to answer his question anyway.

“I don’t want to mooch off your work. I want to earn my own grade - it’s not fair to either of us if I don’t do any work,” he explains. “It’s like when you’re fighting, and someone doesn’t even try to fight against you. Even if you win, it doesn’t feel like a win, you know?”

Bakugou looks back at him with a near unreadable expression on his face. Sero isn’t sure whether he’s hit a nerve or struck a chord in him. Maybe both.

Suddenly Bakugou gets up and shoves his papers into his bag. Sero leans back in his chair and holds back a sigh. Fuck. I went to far. Now he’d be back at square one.

“I’m going to send you a list of sources.”

Sero looks up. Bakugou’s still standing by the open door.

“Take notes on them, then give them to me,” he demands.

Sero lights up. “Yeah, sure!”

Bakugou leaves, but Sero’s feeling more confident than before. He just needs to be stubborn like Bakugou. He’ll kept trying until he gets this right.

They meet in the library next week.

Bakugou is, to put it lightly, frustrated.

Sero thought the project was going well. Bakugou actually read over his notes and constructed a summary from it. They had the slides planned out and everything - but Bakugou still wasn’t satisfied.

“This isn’t good enough!” Bakugou says, throwing down his notes. “This is just generic, dumb facts. If we want to beat everyone else we need to do more.”

“I don’t think this is about beating the others.” Sero didn’t miss how he said “we” this time, instead of “I.” Another victory.

Bakugou ignores him. “We need to make a claim. Show how quirk marriage had a lasting effect.”

“It’s not like quirk marriage is dead,” Sero comments. Bakugou looks at him weird, so he tries to explain himself. “You say it like it’s a thing of the past, but people still do it, even if it’s not super common. My neighbor is the result of a quirk marriage. And she’s not even like, thirty.”

Bakugou’s eyes go wide, and his lips twitch. “That’s perfect,” Bakugou says, nearly jumping out of his seat. “Get an interview with her. We can put a video on the slides.”

Sero grins. “I can ask, sure!”

Bakugou leans back in his chair, kicking his legs up on the desk. “Top that, Ponytail girl.”

snape (snail tape) is this u? [link]

The Boy Who Cussed THE FUCK IS THAT SUPPOESD TO MEAN FUCKFACE??!!!

A few days later, they sit in front of Bakugou’s laptop, looking at the draft of their final presentation.

At the moment, the slides have a black backdrop with bright orange text in some hardcore font that’s incredibly hard to read. Sero notes that the colors match his costume. Each slide looks the same - blocks of information in bullet points, too hard to read.  

“Hey, Bakugou do you take constructive criticism?” Sero asks.

"No."

"It fucking sucks."

Bakugou swivels around in his seat, snarling. “The fuck do mean? It looks fucking cool.”

Considering Bakugou’s parents worked in the fashion industry, Sero would have thought Bakugou would have an eye for design. These slides proved that assumption wrong. “Yeah, maybe, but like...could we make it readable?”

Bakugou narrows his eyes. “You don’t think it’s readable?” he asks accusingly.

Sero throws up his arms. “I’m just calling it as I see it, dude.” Knowing that this is an area where Bakugou falls short, Sero makes this an opportunity for himself. He’s not an artist by any means, but he’s sure he can do better than this. “How about you can write the presentation, and I’ll design the slides.”

Bakugou glares at him for a moment, no doubt questioning whether he can trust Sero with this task.

“Relax. It’ll be fine,” Sero reassures him. “I promise I’ll put a lot of effort into it - and you can look over it when I’m done, so you can make sure it’s up to your standards.”

“Fucking fine,” Bakugou relents.

Sero is more than satisfied with the end result. One - because it was a bombass presentation, two - because Bakugou couldn’t have done this without Sero’s help, and three - because they got full marks from Kayama-sensei. She even complimented them on the sleek design of their presentation.

“Put it here, Bakugou!” Sero holds up his hand.

With a grin closer to a smirk, Bakugou slams his palm against Sero’s. His high five is just as explosive as his...well, explosions. That’s going to leave a mark.

Shaking out his wrist, Sero says, “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes. But Sero's silently proud of Bakugou for giving up some of his agency. He knows Bakugou likes to do things himself, and he bets Bakugou had just as hard a time sharing group work as Sero had trying to feel useful.

“You should have shown what you’re capable of earlier, Soy Sauce Face,” Bakugou says. “What the fuck have you been holding back for?”

Sero can hear Kirishima’s voice in his head saying So manly!

Bakugou’s words hit Sero like a punch. In middle school, Sero was described as plain. Plain face, plain clothes, plain personality. He thought going to U.A. would change all of that, and it did, at first. But Sero saw himself quickly falling behind ever since the sports festival. Against Bakugou and Kaminari’s flashy quirks or Ashido’s magnetic personality or Kirishima’s sheer resilience, Sero was once again the plain person in the pack. The useless one.

Sero is beginning to realize that this is his own fault. He can see how hard his classmates work - he just needs to up his game.

Bakugou’s right - what is he holding back for? He’s capable of so much more if he doesn’t play follower to the leaders of the pack. Sero can keep up with them - this project proved it.

“I’m not holding back,” Sero tells him. “I’m just warming up!”

Bakugou smirks. “Better catch up quick.”

“Trust me, I’m just getting started.”

ao3 | based on this hc | more like this

pst there’s a tiny deleted scene on ao3 in the notes if youre interested