#listen the kid sitting next me in euro was acting up I had to make this up

[hot-cheddar-cheese-singles]

[miraculous-trinity-leo]

Whacky Gotham, Goofy New York, and Chaotic Paris.

(part 1) (part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7)

Chapter 1: Genius Little Ladybug

★—–—–†–—–—★

It all started when Sabine Cheng and her parents moved from China to America, where she met a rich boy named Tony, they weren't the best of friends at first, but they would always get into crazy shenanigans because of Tony. Sabine always finding a way to get them out of it. After a while they were practically inseparable, they had each others backs, both in the good times, and the bad.

So when Tony lost both his mother and father in a tragic car accident, and had to take over his parents company, she was there to try and ease the pain. It helped a little, but the boy changed and blocked out many people, only keeping a select few close to him. His personality changed, and he started to act differently, it saddened Sabine, but she knew it was his way of coping with his lose.

She would oftentimes find him crying silently in his office. When Tony opened a branch in Paris France, he was paranoid something would go wrong when he wasn't there, so he had Sabine become a sort of co-CEO for the Paris branch. Over the many years of her being a sibling-in-everything-but-blood to Tony, her intelligence was much higher than everyone in the company, other than said boy.

She moved to Paris not long after, always keeping an eye on both the Paris branch and Tony ( because god knows what would happen if she didn't do so). She even met a baker named Tom Dupain. Eventually dating, and marrying him. Tony wasn't the most eager when he heard of Tom, but he accepted him as family (not because if he didn't Sabine would knock some sense into him). He practically exploded with excitement when he heard we would be an uncle a few years after Sabine's wedding.

Tony was there in the waiting room with Tom, when Sabine was having the child ( Tony denies not having a mini heart attack when the nurse came in). Both men looked at the beautiful child through the glass. Tony was put to tears when he read her name "Maria Dupain-Cheng" and was comforted by a teary Tom.

When Maria was 9 months old, her Uncle Tony came to spend time with her, and talk business with Sabine. None of them expected Maria to crawl her way into their conversation and say "Uncle Tony" in the sweetest most adorable laugh both adults had ever heard. Tony had a massive grin on his face, and gave Maria a big hug and lots of kisses saying " I knew i was your favorite hahaha, and you're only 9 months old. Sabine I think we got a little genius on our hands." Sabine was just as happy and told Tom to hurry and grab the camera.

"Come on say it one more time my dear Maria, show your papa who your favorite adult is" Tony said with a very wide grin.

Maria giggled at her uncle's happiness, clapping her hands. "Uncle Tony, Uncle Tony" Tom just smiled giving his baby girl a kiss and handing Tony 10 Euros.

Tony continued to visit his little genius niece over the years. Maria ended up getting the best education a kid could get, becuase his logic was " If she is a genius (which she is) then she is going to have the best education money can buy, for nothing is to much for my Little Genius Maria!" and with that she could officially be called the smartest kid in all of Paris... heck probably in all of Europe even! So when she gained a passion for fashion at 4, Tony didn't hesitate to get her, her very first (kid friendly) sewing set. By the time Maria was 5 she already knew how to speak and write in French, English, Spanish, Russian, and is learning Mandarin.

Maria had met Chloé when they were both 6, although they weren't really friends, they were polite to each other, which surprised a lot of the other kids their age. She had met Alix a few months later. She spent a lot of the time she wasn't studying with her friends, Alix would get in trouble with another kid on the playground, Chloé would criticise the other kid, and Maria would talk to Alix and then apologize to the other kid. Overall, they had a good dynamic going on, and they (as 7 year olds) promised to always have each others backs to the very end.

When Maria was 3½ months away from her 9th birthday, Tony was kidnapped. Maria just broke down, she wanted to help her Uncle, but she didn't know where he was or how she could help if she did. For three months Maria would only speak to Chloé and Alix (they were kinda shocked to find out she was related to THE Tony Stark). A few days before her birthday, Tony came to their home, with rolls of fabric, flowers, and 'I'm sorry cards'. Maria jumped into his arms crying asking what happened, and "If you're the smartest man on the Earth, why the Heck did it take you so long? How did you get out? Are any of your vital organs hurts? Do you need to go to the Hospital? An-"

"Hey slow down My Little Genius Maria, I'm ok. 1, They didn't really give me much to work with at first, and there is only so much a genius like myself can do with so little resources, and time before your Birthday. 2, I made an anime mecha suit and flew out guns a blazing. 3, Nothing I can't live without. and 4, No because I'm spending the week with you lot before a conference I have in about 10 days." He said while holding his small little genius  in his arms.

Wiping away the tears she looked her Uncle in the eyes "Wait, you 'made an anime mecha suit and flew out guns a blazing?' How does it work? what's its power source? And why do you have a weird glowing device in your chest?!" He had a lot of explaining to do.

That week, in her words was 'The best week of her life.' She was really happy for the first time since the Tony-napping happened, although she was sad he had to go, she knew  he was safe, and that she didn't have to worry (as much) now.

When Maria was 13, both Tony and Sabine decided to have her go to public school with her friends. After hearing this Maria called for a meeting, her two commanders (Alix and Chloé) came for the meeting, and had a talk on how she should go about her first day of public school, asking questions like 'How do non-homeschooled kids act? What are their personalities like? What interests do they have? Are some barbaric like Alix is sometimes? Will they like me? Am I allowed to talk to Chloé in or only out of class? What are the seating arrangements? Who do I sit next to?' the list goes on. They were all excited to finally all be in the same study environment, now all they had to do was wait for their first day.

•~—~—~—~—~—~—~•

The night before her first day Maria may or may not have slept well due to her excitement, she woke up a little later than she ever would have preferred, getting breakfast, her clothes, the 'greeting sweets' (as Alix called them) and heading out in a slight panic.

On her way out she noticed an elderly man with a cain crossing the street, and a car coming a little faster than what was allowed, she pulled the man out of the cars way without losing any of the sweets, after making sure the man was ok, she gave him a sweet before saying good day and heading over to school. She never noticed the man walking away without the use of his cain.

She still got to class on time, when her teacher walked in she greeted everyone in the class "Bonjour, je m'appelle Maria Dupain-Cheng, c'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer! (Hello, my name in Maria Dupain-Cheng, it is a pleasure to meet you!)" after the introductions she sat down in the empty seat next to Alix, both giving a fist bump, and a smile to Chloé, who looked away as if she didn't care (the girl had an image to keep after all). When class was over she handed out the sweets and went with her friends to lunch. During lunch, one of the other students from a different class was mocking one of their classmates that Maria remembered as Ivan, for having a crush on Mylène and not saying how he really feels to her. Ivan ran off into one of the locker rooms, and Maria decided to go and comfort him, she explained that she overheard what happened and that he should try and tell Mylène about his feelings, listing many different things he could do or say, and that he should stay positive.

Ivan thanked Maria afterwards and went off to write a song for Mylène. Ivan later showed Mylène the song he wrote for her, but was teased by other students near them, Ivan ran away not wanting to be embarrassed more.

Back in the classroom Alix and Maria are sitting and talking when everyone hears crashing and screams outside, the class looked out to see a giant rock thing destroying everything  on its way to the school. The teachers sent the kids home in an attempt to keep them safe.

When Maria got home she noticed a small box with writing she didn't recognize, she carefully opened it, instantly releasing a glow of bright red-ish pink light.

"Greetings Maria Dupain-Cheng, I am Tikki, the Ladybug Kwami of creation and good Luck, it is a pleasure to meet you." Maria couldn't believe her eyes "Mon dieu..." was all she could say, before going full interrogation mode "You're a Kwami? What is that? How are you floating like that? How am I able to understand you? Do you have some sort of ability to communicate in any language?How did you fit in this box? w-"

"There is no time, Paris needs you! I can only explain the powers I grant and how to use them, so please listen carefully."

•~—~—~—~—~—~—~•

Soon Maria was running in a red suit with black spots and amor. She ended up facing the 'akuma' as Tikki called it in a stadium, meeting her partner (a blonde furry she decided) for the first time.

"Bonjour m'lady, so what's the plan to take this thing down?"

Without hesitation she explained her plan " The plan is for you to have your Cataclysm ready, I'll give you a signal when it's your-"

"Cataclysm!"  The boy proceeded to use his ONE attack on a GOAL POST!

"I said to wait for a SIGNAL! Now you only have five minutes before you power-off."

"Oops" The blonde was really wasting her more useful braincells. After the boy was thrown out of the stadium, Maria was left to fend for herself, and she did really well, considering this was her first non(but sort of) official villain fight, up until she lost her footing and was knocked into the side of the stadium. The akuma was gone before she could get back, more and more people were turned to stone, but it showed just where Stoneheart was heading.

She arrived at the Eiffel Tower, where blonde was fighting stone people, he just managed to get away and actually listened to the plan this time.

They defeated Stoneheart, Maria gave her speech to the villain, and did a fist bump (though at this point Maria just wanted to get some sleep), when a reporter came to interview them.

"What are your names, and where did you come from?"

"My name's Chat Noir an-"

"Ladybug, and we're hear to protect Paris from Moth-Man, as much as we would love to give you a bit more details, we don't have much time at the moment" right on que their Miraculous' beeped signalling they had 2 minutes left " Stay safe, and positive, Bug-Out. "

•~—~—~—~—~—~—~•

"Well done Maria!"

"Thanks Tikki." and with that Maria went downstairs to get something to eat, when she saw her parents watching the news.

"Earlier today Paris gained a villain and two heroes: Ladybug, and Chat Noir. Many of our viewers submitted pictures and videos, but only one of Ladybug came out clear."

"Thank you Ladybug and Chat Noir for protecting us, bonne journée à Paris."

.................

"Maria you're taking self-defense classes starting tomorrow" Sabine spoke, though Maria didn't have any complaints, plus it'll help when fighting akumas so it's a win win.

"Yes maman."

•~~~~~later in Maria's room~~~~~•

"Ok, so you're basically goddess of creation personified into a cute little Ladybug creature?"

"Kwami, but yes."

"And you've existed since basically the Big Bang?"

"Correct."

"... how are you able to float like that? How are we able to talk without any ancient god language in the way? And what other kinds of um kwamis are there?"

"I float with magic. Yes their is a language only for the Kwami, but we've learned every other language in existence, so there would never be an issue with communication. And to your last question, there are many different kinds of Miraculi all over the world, some even across the universe, so I am unable to list every single one in existence, but there are just as many Miraculi out there as there are starts in the sky."

"Impressive... does that mean I could learn magic?"

"As a human you are limited to what you can do with magic, but you have a strong creation soul. So yes it is possible for you to learn basic magic, I can teach you some life magic to help you heal quicker if you get hurt outside the suit. You can also learn other types of basic magic based on what Miraculous you are most aligned to. Surprisingly you have a close affinity to most of my brothers and sisters that are here in Paris."

"Are they in the hands of other Miraculous users?"

"... aside from Chat Noir, only two: one belongs to the Guardian, and the other to Hawkmoth."

"What are their names?"

"...Wayzz is Kwami of Protection, and is the partner of the Guardian. The other is Nooroo Kwami of Transmission, Hawkmoths Kwami.

"Ok, so then I assume the 'Guardian' is who you were with until now, right?"

"That is correct."

"And how was I chosen exactly?"

"The Guardian chose you because he saw your kindness in action, and sensed your strong Creation Soul, he has only ever been wrong once, but I can tell you will be a great Ladybug, maybe even one of the few who achieved a higher sence of life."

"... I feel like you kind of described a Sage, also how would he have seen an act of kindness, I mean, I got my things, went out helped an older man with a cain, wait."Maria squinted her eyes at Tikki as if looking for something.

"The elderly man's the Guardian isn't he?"

"..."

"I get it, you don't have to tell me, it's all apart of the 'plot' like some show, I get it. Welp, good night Tikki, have to get up early tomorrow."

"Good night Maria." Tikki never messed up so badly before, then again she never had a user with such a strong Creation Soul before either... Maria is something special.

•~—~—~—~—~—~—~•

And Tikki was right, she excelled at Life Magic, learning a fair bit of healing, luck and slight plant manipulation and communication magic. Tikki wasn't sure if she should be proud of her Bug, or scared at her fast learning skills.

A few weeks passed and Maria was thankful for the self-defense classes, she even started doing her own training routine with Tikki guiding her. She didn't like that her partner was a flirt, it got distracting and almost got Chat killed a few times. She often wondered 'what the hell did I do in my past life to get a partner like this?'

•~—~—~—~—~—~—~•

Tony Stark was called by Sabine to meet her earlier than they had planned, she informed him that Paris now has a villain and two heroes.

"Ok, so what's the problem? We agreed to put Maria in self-defense classes so she would be safe... is it a boy?! Don't tell me it's a boy, she's to young to be dating!"

"It's not about a boy."

"Then what is this about?"

"She's Ladybug, *sigh* I swear she gets it from you Tony. She learned it from your dumb@ss, and it didn't help the need to protect people she loves when you got kidnapped. I need you to teach her how to be a good hero, good combat strategist, and to give her your support. She already has a tactical mind, I'm proud in a way that she shares your bravery."

"Ffffffffudge... ok, where is she?"

"Upstairs."

•~—~—~—~—~—~—~•

After a slightly awkward conversation Maria started to get even more training, and became a pretty much badass on the field, she incorporated the known fighting styles of: Black Widow (her favorite hero), Captain America, Deadpool (favorite hero to some degree), Daredevil, Wolverine, and some moves from famous villains like, Kraven The Hunter, Red Skull, Doctor Doom, Scorpion, Shocker, and Taskmaster ( her favorite villain). And she used ALL of those skills in battle, it was damn impressive to watch, and then Sabine had a talk with Tony.

〜(꒪꒳꒪)〜Bonus〜(꒪꒳꒪)〜

"Ok Tony wtf? I asked you to teach her how to fight for protection when she's out there, But you turned her into a complete badass, I mean none of the akumas have lasted more than 10 minutes with her! I want to hug you and kick your @ss at the same time."

" Sorry not sorry Sabine, but she is our Genius Little Ladybug after all."

•—–—–†–—–—•

First fic, wahoo (mario stile), hope you're all having an Absolutely wonderful day, stay safe, and stay positive, BUG-OUT!🐞💮🐞

〜(꒪꒳꒪)〜 Tag List 〜(꒪꒳꒪)〜

1st place★: @animegirlweeb ☕

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30th Place★: @lady-phoenix-of-tardis

@lupagrimm

[votederpycausemufins]

I finally know how this thing is going to end, but it might go over 30 chapters. Whoops! This chapter could also be longer, but I wanted a bit of a cliffhanger.

@petrichormeraki @helleborusangel

“That isn’t fair! I found him so you have to keep up your end of the deal!” Grifter yelled at Death, but he barely reacted.

“That wasn’t the agreement.”

“The agreement was I was supposed to find out what happened to Theseus, and I did that! He kidnapped the wels version of his admin and revived Nightmare and it backfired. He screwed up and you wanted to know how he was doing, so I brought him here so he wouldn’t fucking die without you around. So, now you know what happened, how he’s doing, and I kept him safe. That’s like, three times what you wanted. Now uncurse my husband or you won’t be death anymore.”

Death glared at Grifter. “I thought you said you weren’t after that.”

“I said I wasn’t going to try and kill you for your power because now I have Sense, but if you cursed him so I can’t easily be around him, that’s gone. If you’re not planning to reverse the curse, then I’m going to get something out of it.” Grifter smiled at then pulled out a crossbow. “Now, you’re going to uncurse Sense, or you won’t be around much longer.”

“You still need to finish your end of the bargain.”

Grifter froze, his brain trying to comprehend what had been said before he growled in anger. “We just fucking covered I already did and more! I don’t need to do anything more!”

“Part of it was making sure Theseus was safe. You haven’t done that. He may have moved to a new dimension, but he refuses to officially unlink himself from Nightmare’s world. Nightmare, in his hubris, has decided to try and claim his wels dimension world in his current revived state. I don’t think I need to tell you what will happen if he fails, and at this point, he will.”

“So I need to keep the bastards alive, sure. Is that all?” Grifter sneered, crossing his arms.

“Not quite.I would prefer Nightmare dead, but no one will take his title, so Theseus will just try again with no one stopping him.” Death explained. “Listeners are quite powerful on their own and can link worlds, so you wouldn’t lose Sense, but I’m sure your kids would love to meet their family.”

Grifter rolled his eyes. “Like they would want to meet Wile and Euro. They’re only still alive since you keep them from dying. They’re too cowardly to do anything right.” Death glared at Grifter, who scoffed. “Fine, whatever. I guess they might like Fleur and Sadie. At the very least trying setting it up for me while I’m gone. I’m gonna be busy backing up the wels world before I do anything.”

“I can agree to that.”

“Oh, and can you pause the curse while I deal with Nightmare? It might be the only chance for us to do something so fun and I don’t want to miss out on that opportunity.”

Death glared before answering. “If you stop on your job, it’ll kill him, but sure, I can do that.”

“That’s great!” Grifter smiled, bouncing a little. “I’ll just make a little stop and then I’ll start! See you soon enough!” He started to walk off, but then paused to turn back to death slightly. “Oh, and remember to warn Euro. We don’t want him exploding again!”

.

.

.

The moment Grian was in the SMP, he started using his Watcher magic to look around. At the very least, it didn’t look like Grifter was around. It should have been obvious with his name not on the comms list, but if he had messed with the list before, he could have done it again. Fortunately that wasn’t the case.

Next he did what he could to find Grum, which was pretty easy. Grian already had a bit of tracking for Grum on his comm, and while before it wouldn’t have been enough to really help in another world, the fact that he could also track Watcher energy made it work. He was a little concerned that it felt weak, but he hadn’t really noticed it in the past, so likely Grum didn’t have much in the first place.

Either way, he knew where Grum was now, so he started flying that way. Grian wasn’t sure exactly what he would find there, so he got his sword ready for the worst case scenario. When he landed at the quartz mansion, he tried to be as quiet as possible. Peeking through a window, he couldn’t see anyone around, which was concerning. At least the demon should have still been there. This was his home, wasn’t it?

“Hey, what are we doing at the window?” someone spoke as they stood behind Grian, making the avian’s wings puff up before he whirled around and pointed the sword at. 

“Wil? Is that you?”

“Hi Xel! I haven’t seen you in ages. Though other than Phil and Techno, I haven’t really seen anyone for a while. I was sort of trapped in Te-” Wilbur started rambling before Grian clamped a hand over his mouth.

“I don’t need to hear all of that. Where is everyone?” Grian asked before slowly pulling his hand away.

“Right! Well Dream showed up again, though he’s a bit different. Dad went after him along with the others and they haven’t shown back up yet. Well, I mean, Tommy and Techno are still here.”

Grian looked at the building. “Techno’s here?! But Grum’s supposed to be here!”

“You mean the robot kid? He’s okay. I’ve barely seen him, even as a ghost.”

Grian didn’t bother to keep listening, moving into the house. Techno was supposed to be a great fighter, so the only upperhand Grian might get is taking him by surprise, which was pretty much all he had the last two times. But those two times might have been enough for the warrior to get his tells. That would make it risky and-

“I’m not his unc- did you just take a picture.”

“Yeah, say that again when I don’t have this photo.”

“Delete it before I make you delete it.”

“Whoops, too late. I already sent it to Tubbo! Maybe now you’ll be able to watch Michael.”

“Why would I want that?”

“Cause he’s a piglin too? And not like it’ll ruin your image now Technosoft.”

“Tommy…”

“Ah ah ah, you might wake Grum up!”

Grian slowly opened the door to find Tommy awake and chilling on his bed, just messing around with his comm. Techno was standing nearby with Grum asleep in his arms, plugged into the charger. Grian wanted to rush in, but his first thought was that if he did anything, it would be easy for Techno to do something to Grum.

“You think I would care about that?” Techno asked after rolling his eyes.

“Bitch, this kid might affectionately beat the anarchy out of you. You’re gonna be the favorite uncle whether you like it or not.”

Techno grumbled, but didn’t actively try to refute it, especially when Grum stirred slightly, snuggling up closer to the piglin. It made Grian hesitate. They had gone through a lot these past few days. And for Grum it had been around a month. While he wasn’t a fan of Grum being near Techno right now, he didn’t really want to disturb him while he looked so peaceful.

Tommy and Techno both looked up when Grian lightly knocked on the door. “Hey Tommy. How’d you get here before me?”

“Heeey Big G. Pretty sure Grum fixed whatever was wrong with me and that brought me here. He did the same for Wilbur and he’s outside.”

“He acts a bit more like Ghostbur did if you ask me.” Techno huffed, adjusting Grum in his arms.

Grian shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen him in ages. Did see him outside though.” He then sighed and looked to Techno. “You haven’t done anything to Grum, have you?”

Techno managed not to flinch when the eyes glaring at him glinted a dangerous purple color. “Of course not. I even helped him out earlier.” He answered, kicking Tommy when he whispered another ‘Technosoft’ at that. 

Grum whined a little when the piglin moved, and Grian took that as an opportunity to take Grum into his own arms. The bot stirred a little, but still stayed asleep, making Grian furrow his brows. “He’s asleep…”

“Yeah, and?” Techno asked, crossing his arms. He didn’t know what was so surprising about that, but next to him, Tommy did.

“Grum doesn’t sleep. Neither of the boys do. I mean not really. They have a sleep mode, but that’s not really like actual sleeping.” Grian explained. “Here… let me test something.” He checked Grum’s power reading before unplugging the bot. They all waited a few minutes in silence before Grian checked again, eyes widening. “He’s charging himself.”

“What the fuck?! Really?!” Tommy shouted, though not loud enough to wake Grum. “How did that happen?!”

Grian shrugged, almost at a loss for words. “I… I don’t know. I didn’t think something like this was possible. I mean… I’ll look into it more later… but now really isn’t the best time.”

“You know, I wonder if it’s got something to do with their hels versions. When I was still stuck over there with Grifter, he said their versions of the bots weren’t built.”

“How does-” “Fundy.” “Right, nevermind.” Techno huffed, finally pulling a chair over and sitting down. “Well I have no clue how that place works, so for all we know, that’s what did it.”

Grian shook his head. “No, I doubt it. Normally hels is affected by us, not the other way around. The Listeners developed after the Watchers, Helscraft has fewer seasons than us. Theseus wasn’t in Helscraft until a while after Tommy joined us.”

“Yeah, but they had their kids back when they were in their previous season.” Tommy piped up. “There was no way for them to make them after you build Grum and Jrum since Grifter was stuck in their season four. For all we know, it works both ways.” Grian rubbed his chin, thinking about it, but then he suddenly started looking around, wings flared out. 

“What’s wrong?” Techno piped up, but the most he got in terms of an answer was Grum being handed to him again. The bot stirred a bit more, actually waking up this time. Before anyone could say something more, the world shuddered and a wave of green light suddenly passed through them. “What was that?”

“World backup. Watchers will do that sometimes, but it’s never noticeable.” Grian quickly explained, drawing his weapon.

“Then why the fuck did we notice that?” Tommy asked, a bit concerned.

“Because.” Grian turned around, wings shifting colors. “Green magic is what Listeners use.”

The_Grifter joined the world

PerfectSense joined the world

.

.

.

Grifter pulled Sense in close to him before sending out a ring of lit tnt that exploded around them. It was powerful enough it made the ground shake and rumble which just made the Listener smile more. “Oh Seesee! Look over there! A castle! Let’s go over there!”

“That sounds good to me.” Sense replied, picking Grifter up bridal style and walking towards Pride Palace. He had a little trouble getting through the newly formed rubble, but before long they were at the gates. Someone in a crown and sunglasses tried to approach them, but Sense quickly pulled out a death ray and shot them with it.

They reached the throne room and Sense set Grifter down. The Listener ran over to the throne and stood on it, a giant smile on his face. “I’m king of the castle! I’m king of the castle! Oh! Do you think there’s one just like this in the hels world?”

Sense chuckled. “Probably not exactly like this. And that’s if it isn’t rubble.”

Grifter pouted and fell down onto the throne to sit. “I guess that’s true. Well, when we leave I can throw some puzzle blocks together for this place to bring it over. Then we can make some improvements.”

“Why not start with them now?” Sense asked, shrugging with a little smile, which Grifter matched with his own grin. Sense tossed an axe to Grifter, who turned the pink metal more of a viridian. “Now, I suppose I’ll have to find someplace to sit.”

“While I would love to offer you a lovely seat up here, the throne will unfortunately have to do. I need to make sure Nightmare comes here.” And Grifter got up, summoning a communicator made entirely out of magic. “But I’m sure he won’t want to waste time, so you won’t need to wait too long.”

Sense moved to stand behind Grifter, putting his head on the Listener’s shoulder and looking at the comm. “Hmm, looks like Tommy’s here. He was the other version of Theseus, right?”

“Oh yes he was. I’m sure Nightmare would be much more convinced if we had him with us. He wouldn’t want Theseus dying by proxy, now would he? And it’s not like he knows I need bitch boy alive.”

“Have I ever told you how hot you are when you scheme like this?”

“Mmm, tell me again.” Grifter leaned back before a noise from his comm made him look back. “Hmm, seems we have a slight change of plans. Looks like Grian’s trying to interfere. Can you hold down the fort while I make a mess of things?”

“Of course. Have fun my darling.” Sense replied before letting Grifter go, the Listener using magic to quickly shift back to looking exactly like Grian, even changing the appearance of his wings. Sense held out a bucket filled with water and lined with soul sand which Grifter tossed an enderpearl into. The scientist put the bucket next to the throne before sitting down on it, watching as Grifter created an exit for himself and flew off.

[ot3tropetober]

Eliot and Hardison are travel journalists for rival publications who keep showing up in the same places 

Fic for this (~3500 words) is below the read more! Some notes: 

[backstory on why Hardison is writing these comes from this post]

[Eliot, Parker, and Hardison are all commenting on this document, think of it like the chat in Google drive? In-document comments from Eliot are italicized, from Hardison are in bold, and from Parker are plain text] 

By the time Will Coffey stepped off the plane in Dallas, all he wanted was a nice long shower and to sleep in his own bed for once. Being a travel journalist for a leading travel magazine had its perks– a month-long trip across Mexico, for example, all expenses paid or at least reimbursed – but after a month on the road he was dead tired and ready to be home. 

Is this supposed to be me? Why am I living in Dallas? 

Yes, and also, you don’t actually live in Dallas, Eliot, you live here, in Portland, with us. 

I know that, I just– you know what, never mind. 

Well, Will Coffey likes Dallas. 

I am Will Coffey!! 

That’s the spirit. 

The other thing about being on the road for a living was that sometimes it felt kinda lonely, and as relieved as he was to be home, the first couple of minutes after he walked in, turned on the lights, and looked around at an empty place, that was always a little bittersweet. But the only other person he’d really seen in any kind of serious capacity the whole time he’d had this gig was a fellow traveler who spent just as much time on the road as he did, so it just kinda was what it was. He set his keys and his bag down and headed to the kitchen for a beer, but he hadn’t even opened his fridge when his phone buzzed a couple times. It was a text from Sarah, his editor. He’d known her forever– they shared a couple classes in college. Now they shared the stress of managing a print publication in an increasingly digital world. 

“Did you see this?” she had written. There was a link in the next message. “How does this guy get this stuff up so fast?“ 

Will already knew what he was gonna find before he clicked the link, and sure enough, it directed him to a popular travel blog called The Travel Geek, which was a ridiculous name for a travel blog but people absolutely went wild for it. Will liked it too, not that he would ever really admit it, but that probably had more to do with the guy who ran it than anything else. They had…not a thing, exactly? It was hard to explain whatever was going on with Jeremy Edwards, who by rights Will should probably hate for stealing his stories and his audience. But the problem with that was mainly that the guy was so goddamn likeable. 

I’m guessing that’s you. 

You would be correct. 

You think I think you’re likeable? 

No, I know it. 

he is pretty likeable

Yeah, yeah. 

Will had met Jeremy a couple of years ago, right when he was just starting out with his blog. Jeremy said he’d been reading Will’s stuff for a while and would love some advice from a pro. It wasn’t like Will didn’t know it was a little bit of flattery, and it wasn’t like he didn’t know it was a little bit of flirting, either. It also wasn’t like Jeremy was bad to look at. So Will said sure, he’d be glad to, and they were in Belgium, so they shared some beers, ate fries from a baraque at one in the morning on a park bench, shoulders pressed together, while Will tipsily rhapsodized about gaufre de Liège while Jeremy laughed and laughed. 

I have never *rhapsodized* about anything in my damn life. 

Have you heard you talk about food? This is not a criticism. I could listen to that all day. 

Nothing really happened, in the end, just a good conversation and the promise to keep in touch. That turned out to be easier than it should have been, because they started covering the same damn things, all the time. One big world, and somehow they were always sharing part of it: Will was in India on a camel safari through the Thar Desert, and Jeremy was there, keeping Will up at night tappity tapping on his keyboard. Or Will was in Oatman, Arizona, for a piece on Route 66, and there was Jeremy, taking selfies with the wild burros roaming the streets of the town. Or Will was traveling around Japan, doing a feature on onsens, and Jeremy was there, too, acting like he wasn’t looking in Will’s direction while they sat, very naked, in the soothing hot water. It went on like that for a while until finally one night in Barcelona, in front of Sagrada Familia, he looked at Jeremy, tall and handsome in this absurd brightly patterned scarf, and said, “This is ridiculous, man,” and pulled him in for a long, lingering kiss. 

Do you honestly think it would have taken me that long? 

I don’t know, baby, it took your cowboy ass five years in real time, so Will’s doing a lot better than you. 

OoooooooOooo 

We had a lot goin on!!! And what is that supposed to be, parker? are you some kind of ghost? 

it made more sense in person 

I’ll take your word for it. 

It wasn’t a relationship, exactly. It was just something they did, sometimes, if they happened to run into each other on the road. It wasn’t like he was getting invited home for the holidays, or anything, and he was fine with that, really. The long and short of it was, they’d basically been circling each other for years now, professionally, personally, whatever, but the professional stuff was definitely getting in the way of anything else. Because Will would sit down and write out his long, detailed articles with carefully selected photographs that would look just right on the page, while Jeremy had already turned out quick blog entry after quick blog entry, listing off places people should visit with witty little one sentence summaries, and people just ate it right up with a spoon while Adventure., Will’s magazine, slowly saw its sales circling the drain. It stung a little. Maybe more than a little. It wasn’t like he could say the guy wasn’t working hard, but damn. Hell, the best selling issue they’d had in a couple years was the one where Sarah had masterminded a collaboration between Will and Jeremy. Blogging was definitely here to stay. 

That night in Belgium was five years ago, and at the time it seemed impossible that the internet would ever really fully overtake print. But bloggers and phones had both gotten smarter over the last five years, and now everyone wanted their news in little chunks that they could read on a screen during their commute, so travel blogs were the hot new thing. Will grimaced as he looked at the blog entries Jeremy already had up from Mexico, where they’d run into each other at least half a dozen times. 

Five Reasons You Need to Visit Mexico City Right Now; What You’re Missing Because You’re Not in Monterrey; Everything You Wanted to Know About Agave But Were Too Afraid to Ask 

“You gotta be kidding me with this,” he muttered, staring at his phone and thinking about the half-written article he had saved on his laptop detailing the history of agave and how to experience Jalisco as more than just the birthplace of tequila. 

He pulled up Sarah’s number and dialed. 

“I don’t know how we can compete with this,” he sighed, when she picked up. 

“We’re going to have to adapt,” she said. “You know that. I can hear you making a face." 

"I don’t want to blog,” he complained. “I like print." 

"I know,” she sighed. “I’m working on it. Anyway, I’m glad you called, I was going to call you. I need you to go to Italy. Flight leaves tomorrow." 

"No way. Not interested,” he told her. “I just got back to my apartment, Sarah, I’ve been in Mexico for a month. I’m beat." 

"It’s not my fault that you spend half your time on extracurricular activities,” she teased. 

“You can just say sex,” he said. “I won’t be offended. And it’s not half my time. Like, maybe twenty-five percent. Anyway, I get the job done." 

"Yeah, and you’re very good at it, which is why I need you to go to Italy,” she said. 

“I’m not saying yes,” he told her, “and I’m not interested. But what’s in Italy that’s so important for me to get to?" 

"You’ll love this one,” Sarah promised. “It’s a food festival." 

Okay, maybe he was a little interested. "Oh?”

“Yeah,” she said. His phone buzzed in his ear. “I just emailed you the details. Including your flight info." 

"Dammit, Sarah–" 

"Oops, emergency, the printer’s on fire, gotta go!” she chirped, and the line disconnected. 

Yeah okay that’s Parker huh

Yep!

I do know y'all a little bit. 

“Dammit,” Will said again, and opened Sarah’s email to read up on his next destination. 

+ 

The food festival turned out to be a week long international celebration of local food from around the world. It only happened once every few years in October, when a world of people descended on the city of Torino, and more specifically the park by the River Po, where they set up tents and stands and served pretty much every kind of food you could imagine, and Will loved food and could imagine a lot, so that was saying something. It was pretty cool, seeing all these people from all over the planet showing off food that was important to them, sharing it with strangers. It really was the whole planet, too, the way the park was set up you could walk through a continent at a time, with all the countries on it represented at their own space. He figured he’d pay his respects to the hosts first and start with Italy, which was definitely the largest section. Halfway through the displays he found a stall with some folks from Campania selling fresh mozzarella di bufala the size of his fist for a Euro. It was speared on a stick like a candy apple so he could walk around with it, nibbling on the sweet cheese as he checked out the festival’s other offerings. Aged cheeses covered in mud and straw from a little town in France. A swanky tent with wood plank floors where the Filipino agriculture offices had a set up with big displays dedicated to traditional food and heirloom crops. Six different kinds of wild rice were layered in a glass display bottle in the booth dedicated to Indigenous agriculture in North America. There were folks from the Yucatan peninsula displaying cured meats and wild honey. There was a whole series of displays about preserving, protecting, and raising Maasai red sheep, from Kenya. The whole event was really impressive, actually, and even though his body had no idea what time zone he was in, he didn’t feel too tired– although that might have been more because he’d been downing every cup of coffee from anyone selling it. 

Okay, this actually sounds pretty cool. But now you gotta fake a whole food festival like this if we ever use these aliases. 

I don’t have to. That’s a real thing. Happens every couple of years. I was gonna ask if you wanted to go to the next one. Parker can probably find us a job after, anyway. 

I’d love– like that. 

Hardison. HARDISON.

Why isn’t this deleting the things I tell it to delete??? 

Ooh, forgot to tell y'all, this chat records your keystrokes? You know. Just in case you happen to type something sappy about how much you love me, and then delete it before you send it in the chat. Pretty much exactly what just happened. 

Dammit Hardison I’m gonna delete YOU

Baby, that doesn’t even make any sense. 

im w hardison on this 1. it’s ok if u love things eliot. especially food . or us 

Just let me finish reading Hardison’s make believe story so I can get back to dinner prep, ok? 

(he loves us) 

I know :) 

Will strolled around the park, snapping photos here and there, jotting down notes. He talked to folks from all over who came here to run their country’s booths, locals who had come out to enjoy the day, and people who had traveled long distances to be there. After a couple of hours and a really good lunch, he found an unoccupied bench near the river and posted up there for a while, notebook open next to him as he flipped through photos on his phone, the story he could tell about this event already starting to take shape in his head, and he had to admit, at least to himself, that Sarah had been right about this one. Nobody else on their staff knew food enough to get this right. But even though he had a good idea where to start, he couldn’t help feeling a little overwhelmed, too. You could spend two weeks here and still not talk to everybody, and it seemed important to try, somehow. 

“Well, well, well,” said a voice, and Will looked up from his phone and his notes to see the tall form of none other than Jeremy Edwards. 

“Dammit, Edwards,” Will swore. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. Again?" 

Yeah it’s pretty much EXACTLY like that every time

Mmmhmm. You talk a big game, man, but no one here believes you. 

What he said ur like that stuff u put on the dessert u made 4 us last wk

Stuff on dessert– the Italian meringue? You really comparing me to Italian meringue?! 

Is that the stuff that was kinda hard and crunchy on the outside but actually really soft and sweet inside? 

Yep that’s the stuff

This is the worst conversation we’ve ever had. 

It’s weird how I can hear you smiling right now, though.

Shut up, Hardison, I’m reading.  

Got him! XD 

"Looks like it,” Jeremy said. He took a seat next to Will on the bench, despite the fact that Will had absolutely not fucking offered it to him. He grinned. Will looked back at his notes before he smiled back. “We’ve really gotta stop meeting like this." 

"Yeah, well, trust me, I’m working on it,” Will grumbled, and risked a look at Jeremy again. Still handsome, and still smiling, unfortunately. He thought about the blog a little and made himself frown. “So, you’re here to blog about this, huh? How many blog posts have you done already?" 

"None so far,” Jeremy said, scratching his chin, “but I am working on one right now. Tentative title, How to Tell The Guy You’re Casually Seeing And Have Been Chasing All Over the Globe That His Boss Sent Me Here To Work With Him." 

Well, there was a lot of information there, but Will decided maybe sticking with the professional stuff was better for now. "I’m sorry, you’re here for what?" 

Jeremy shrugged. "Sarah really liked that collaboration thing she got us to do last year, I guess, wanted to try it again for this. I said yes. It’s good for your magazine and it gives my blog some credibility with all you snooty print folks." 

"We’re not snooty,” Will said, although that wasn’t exactly true. Maybe they were, a little. He unlocked his phone and saw the email from Sarah, the subject line of which read: “DON’T ARGUE IT WILL BE GOOD FOR YOU/US/THE MAGAZINE.” He sighed and looked back at Jeremy. “I can’t believe she sent you to a food thing." 

"I’m offended,” Jeremy said, although it didn’t much sound like it. “I know food." 

"Oh really? So last year when we were in Beijing and you were looking for a McDonald’s that was just you knowing food, huh,” Will drawled.

“Sometimes you just really want a Happy Meal,” Jeremy joked, and Will just shook his head.

“I guess we should figure out what we’re doing, then,” he said, and Jeremy raised his eyebrows. 

“About the story,” he said, “right?" 

"Yeah, about the story,” Will grumbled. 

“Whatever you say,” Jeremy said affably, just like always. 

+

It was actually pretty easy to figure out how to cover the festival now that he had a partner in crime. They worked out a plan that afternoon, sketched out a couple of pieces, a collab for Adventure., a short guest piece for Will on The Travel Geek, and a short story in the magazine for Jeremy. Sarah signed off on everything from afar– “What time is it where she is? Does that woman ever sleep?” Jeremy asked, as they both got email after email. “I don’t think she does, man,” Will laughed– and they got to work pretty quick. There was plenty to do and they were both here for a few days, so they wandered through the park as they worked, stopping occasionally to sample food or take photos.  Eventually they walked all the way out of the park and into the city, up to a big plaza, Piazza Castello, in the center of the historic part of town. They got gelato from one of the many carts set up nearby for the festival, and sat outside, eating and talking as the sun set. 

It was nice. It was always nice, when they ran into each other. That wasn’t the problem. But they’d been stuck in the same routine for years now: they’d find themselves in the same place, Jeremy would laugh, Will would pretend he was annoyed, and then they’d spend a good chunk of their time together enjoying each other’s company in as many ways as they could find, and then they’d head to the airport and go their separate ways. And that was that. This shouldn’t be any different, but somehow it was. Maybe it was the sunset lighting up Jeremy’s skin, or maybe he’d just been lonely too long, but maybe they needed to figure out what they were doing with more than just the stories they were here to tell. 

“You wanna get dinner?” Will said, before he could talk himself out of it. 

“Yeah,” Jeremy said, smiling again, and this time Will let himself smile back. Just a little.  

They asked around for recommendations and ended up at a little restaurant in the city, a few blocks from the Piazza. They split a bottle of wine, a margherita pizza, and some perfectly fried fish, and they didn’t really talk about work at all. 

“You know,” Jeremy said, about halfway through the wine, “not for nothing, but I’ve gotta say, this looks and feels a lot like a date." 

"I wasn’t under the impression that you’d be opposed to that,” Will said.

“Oh, I’m not opposed,” Jeremy told him, “I’m just a little surprised you’re asking. I figured at this point it was gonna have to be me who said something." 

Will eyed him carefully, thought back to a lot of nights on a lot of trips. "How long exactly have you been waiting around?" 

"I mean, don’t get the wrong idea, here, I haven’t been pining away for you like some Victorian in a bad novel,” Jeremy said, and Will snorted. “But yeah. I played a long game, man. I gotta say, though, after that fishing boat incident in Guyana I really thought you figured out we had a thing." 

"Yeah, well, I didn’t have time to notice, I was too busy taking pictures of you hiding behind that skinny British guy when that big old fish jumped out of the water,” Will snickered. 

“Big old– that thing was two-hundred and thirty-four pounds of ichthyological torpedo headed straight for yours truly,” Jeremy said, and Will chuckled. “Big doesn’t really describe it.”

“Hmm. It was kinda wild he thought we were gonna get in the water with it,” Will mused.  He winked. “Glad you finally remembered you owed me dinner for keeping him from pushing us into the river." 

"Ha. You know Sarah wants us to work with that guy again, right?" 

"Aw, hell,” Will said. “Really?" 

"Yeah,” Jeremy confirmed. “She said she was gonna talk to you about it when we got back from this. Canada this time, so when Mister Fisherman tries to throw me in the water at least the hypothermia will probably get me before the monster fish does." 

"Nah,” Will said. “Don’t worry about that. Nobody throws you off a fishing boat. Except maybe me. No. Well. Maybe. No,” he concluded. 

Hah. I mean, okay, that does sound like me. 

Oh, I am aware, trust me. 

“Sarah maybe also mentioned we might do a few more of these little…collaborative things,” Jeremy said, drawing invisible circles on the table. “Maybe even in a more formal capacity." 

Will raised his eyebrows. "No way she talked you into giving up the blog." 

"Oh, definitely not,” Jeremy said. “But funnily enough, people keep sending me emails about wanting a print version of some of my photographs? But I don’t really have the publishing connections. A magazine, though…” he shrugged. “Me and Sarah figured we might come to some kind of mutually beneficial arrangement, somehow. Might be seeing more of you, is what I’m trying to say." 

"Can’t say I mind that,” Will said, and reached out across the table to cover Jeremy’s hand with his. 

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Jeremy answered, and this time Will didn’t try to hide his smile. 

/end 

Okay? 

Okay, what? 

Well where the hell is the rest of it? 

What rest of it? It’s clearly implied that they’re dating now. They’re dating, they’re happy, they’re gonna work together for real, happily ever after, et cetera. 

they should have at least kissed. i would be into that 

This is what I’m saying. Where’s the resolution, here? 

Baby, anytime you want a kiss, you know where to find me. 

What I want is for you to take this seriously since you’re making us read all of it. 

Wow, okay. Here: 

They walked around the city for a long time after dinner, still holding hands, and the kiss they shared later under the moonlight felt like a promise. The Actual End. 

Y'all happy? 

too sappy 4 me but idk what eliot thinks

Not your best work but it’ll do, I guess. 

Are you still in the kitchen? 

Yeah, why? 

I’m gonna come give you a demonstration of my best work, that’s why. 

Bring it on, man. 

do i get a demo too

You know it.

[magic-miraculous]

Daminette December-- So Close (And Yet So Far), Chapter Two “Blind Date”

———————————————————————————————————– Marinette absolutely adored Gotham University. She felt free there, away from the responsibilities and drama that she’d been sucked into in Paris. Ever since the defeat of Hawkmoth a few months before, Mari had found that the only tie she had to the city was her parents. Luka was touring with Jagged as an intern, Kagami had gone to Japan for pre-Olympic training and University, and Chloe was planning to move to New York with her mother after her father lost his job as Paris’s mayor. She had no contact with anyone else in the class, but she did hear what some of them were up to through Luka, who was told from Juleka. Apparently, Lila and Adrien had started dating a few weeks into the summer (Marinette had left for Gotham just a few days after graduation, staying at the university for a summer program specifically for foreign students; where she met Damian, actually, even though he wasn’t a foreign student of course), and Alya and Nino had broken up yet again soon after. They got together for the first time during their last year in college, but the relationship had always been rocky. Alya was under Lila’s command, and Nino didn’t appreciate that. Luka said that this might be the real end for them, though. Nathaniel got into a prestigious art program at the Sorbonne, and Sabrina became one of Lila’s new cronies. The rest of the class didn’t do anything that Marinette or Luka found noteworthy. As much as thinking about her old class angered her, she felt comfort in the fact that she was able to escape and find such amazing friends.

Chloe, Luka, Kagami, Allegra, Felix, Allan, Claude. And now Damian, too, as difficult as it was for him to admit.

Marinette really appreciated Damian’s sobering and serious presence. He brought her back down when she spiraled, and he actually listened to her, which she really appreciated. He wasn’t the type of person Marinette ever expected to be friends with, but she’d found their personalities really complemented each other. Tikki even thought he reminded her of a black cat, and Mari agreed.

The duo was quiet on their walk, as Mari expected they would be. Mari waved as people she knew passed by, but Damian kept walking. She had to take quicker steps to keep up with his brisk pace, but with her extra endurance she wasn’t out of breath.

It was outside one of the academic buildings that a club had set up a table covered in newspaper-wrapped books. The sign in front of the table said “BLIND DATE WITH A BOOK: $2.00”

“Oh, look!” Mari said, pointing at the table. “Let’s go over!” She grabbed Damian’s hand, an act that he surprisingly didn’t recoil from as he would have if it was anyone else who’d done it, and headed over to the table.

“Hi! Want a book?” a boy sitting behind the table asked. “Some general info is written on the front, just so you have a general idea of what you’re getting into, but all the titles are hidden.”

Marinette picked up a thin book, reading the notes on the cover. “SUPERHEROES, BIRDS, WITTY BANTER”

“Can I take this one, please?”

“It’s all yours! Just two dollars, please.”

Marinette fished through her bag and frowned. “Any chance you would take euros? I need to convert some more cash…”

“I’ve got it, Mari,” Damian said, pulling out some money from his wallet.

“No, it’s--”

“It’s only two dollars,” he replied. “No big deal.”

“I’ll pay you back,” she said, making it clear that she wasn’t going to let him get away with that.

“If you say so. Want to keep walking?”

“Yeah!”

As they walked, Marinette started to unwrap the book. “Superheroes, birds, witty banter,” she told Damian. “Any guesses?”

“Comic book?” he suggested.

“Right you are!” She held up a copy of “Batman and Robin: Bad Blood.”

Damian scoffed. So it was one of the fake stories. There was no ‘bad blood’ between him and his father, and even when Dick was acting as Batman he was sure to keep things professional.

“--are so cool!” Mari said, flipping through the pages. Damian watched to make sure she didn’t trip over anything on the ground. “Who’s your favorite?”

Damian’s favorite hero? He couldn’t say Robin; that would be conceited, and on the slight chance she ever found out his alter ego she would think he was a raging narcissist. Definitely not Todd, and he would rather die than have Grayson find out he said something nice about the eldest brother. That only left--

“I guess Red Robin is pretty cool,” he replied calmly. “What about you?”

“I really like Robin,” Mari said. “Even though he has terrible fashion sense and his costume could use a serious update.”

Damian felt an unnatural blush forming from her first comment, but her second one sobered his thoughts. “What do you mean, ‘bad fashion sense’? His costume is tasteful, and timeless!”

“More like ‘lost in time,’” Mari told him, flipping to a page in the comic that had his full outfit on display. “The cape is old-fashioned and a bit too long, and the color blocking just gives you a headache, you know? The colors work, but they’re also very bright and… violent, maybe? I can’t find the right word, but you know what I mean, right?”

“Sure,” he muttered, staring at the page. He never really thought about any of the things she said, but now those critiques were all he could see. He’d have to talk to Alfred or one of his brothers about potentially changing it.

Wait, why did he care so much what she thought of his alter ego’s outfit? For some reason, he now craved her approval. He didn’t like that feeling at all. At least she looked happy, though. He always saw a light in her eyes when she talked about fashion, and this was just the distraction she needed to get over the stress of getting so many unsolicited calls.

Damian found himself wishing he could stare at that smile forever.

———————————————————————————————————–

BONUS #1:

“So, could you find out who the number belongs to?”

“Yeah, it’s a guy named Adrien Agreste. Age eighteen. Son of Gabriel Agreste; big fashion guy. Kid’s a model, currently living in London and attending University there. Business school, of course.”

“Any chance you can make it so his number can’t call this one?” Damian asked, handing Tim a piece of paper with Marinette’s number on it. “But you aren’t allowed to look up the holder of this number. You have to promise me.”

“Yeah, sure,” Tim replied, already typing away. “Okay, so now whenever he tries to call this number he’ll get one of those ‘why are you harassing women?’ messages. That good?”

“Perfect. Thank you.”

Tim blinked. “Did you… did you just thank me for something?”

“I take it back.”

“Too late! I’m going to cherish this moment forever, Demon Spawn. I hope you know that.”

“I’ll stab you, Drake. So help me, I’ll do it right now.”

“So that is a knife in your sock! Isn’t that uncomfortable?”

“Not as uncomfortable as it would be to be stabbed by it.”

“Touche.”

———————————————————————————————————–

BONUS #2:

In the Batcave:

Damian: Do you guys think my suit is outdated?

Dick: It’s a classic!

Damian: That’s what I thought too, but recently someone I know from school said that it was ‘lost to time,’ and that the colors were blocky and too bright and I’m starting to see it.

Tim: Is it the same person whose number you gave me to block from that creep?

Jason: What person? What creep?

Damian: Drake, I swear to all that you hold dear, I will stab you.

Tim: Do it. I’m calling your bluff.

Bruce: No stabbing anyone! We’ve talked about this!

Damian (mouthing to Tim): Watch your back!

Bruce: But yeah, the outfit can be a bit much sometimes.

Dick: *indignant noises*

Damian: Alfred, can we make some changes?

Alfred: Of course, Master Damian. I’ll have some new sketches ready in the next few days.

Jason: Hope your mystery friend likes it!

Damian: *scowls at Jason* You’re next.

———————————————————————————————————–

Hope you enjoy the bonuses! They're my favorite parts that I've written so far. Also I was planning to post this earlier but I’m dumb and accidentally deleted ALL of my tabs I had up and had to reorganize everything which took a WHILE so yeah.

Tagstagstagsallthetags:

@dawnwave16 @bluerosette23 @18-fandoms-unite-08 @northernbluetongue @latinawithbooks @blue-peach14 @weird-pale-blonde-person @astridflies @annabellabrookes @iloontjeboontje @abrx2002 @valeks-princess @interobanginyourmom @vixen-uchiha @sofmimis @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @thesunanditsangel @crazylittlemunchkin @caffeinetheory  (comment/send me an ask if you want to be added! Also, please feel free to lmk if the notifications aren’t working and I’ll my best to fix it!)

@daminette-december2019 @ozmav @maribat-archive

All of the prompts are available to see on @daminette-december2019 on Tumblr, and that might give you a general idea of how this fic is going to go (but there will definitely be some twists, I promise you that!)

COMING UP NEXT-- Chapter 3 "Decorating"

[mikauzoran]

Marichat/Adrienette: The Rejects Club: Chapter Twenty-Five

The Rejects Club: Chapter Twenty-Five: Look

“You’ve hit snooze twice already,” Plagg reports judgmentally, scooping the phone up and moving it over to the desk so that Adrien has no choice but to get out of bed to turn the alarm off.

“But I’m so tired,” Adrien groans, hoping his kwami will miraculously have a dramatic personality shift and take pity on him.

No such luck.

Plagg snorts. “Whose fault is that?”

“Mine?” Adrien guesses with a sigh, kicking off the covers and going to stop the alarm.

Plagg openly guffaws at this. “You are a mess of insecurities, unmet needs, and hormones. You could be considered legally insane and, therefore, are responsible for nothing. I was talking about that girlfriend of yours. She’s got you so wound up that—”

“—Plagg?” Adrien calls in such a hesitant, small voice that Plagg stops his ribbing to look at his charge and listen.

“Kid?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Adrien softly informs.

The mournful look in his peridot eyes says it all: She’s not his girlfriend, but he wants her to be. He’s afraid she might never be. He’s afraid of her accepting Chat but not Adrien. He’s afraid of ruining everything. He’s scared of letting himself hope only to be crushed again. He’s terrified that if this falls through he’s never going to find someone else…he’s never going to be able to love again, even if he does find someone else.

Plagg inhales slowly and takes just as long to breathe out. “So what are you going to do about it? You had a plan, didn’t you?” He nods over to where Émilie’s leather jacket and Adrien’s clothes are lying out for the day, golden bell on a leather choker sitting on top.

Adrien closes his eyes, takes several deep breaths, and nods. “This is stupid and reckless, and Marinette is probably the only one who won’t figure out my secret identity. Ladybug is going to kill me.”

 Nathalie takes one look at him and sighs deeply. “Worse than I had anticipated.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he pouts.

“Well, no one recognized you when you dressed up as Chat Noir for that music video a few years ago, so maybe…” she mutters without answering his question.

“Do I look weird?” he begins to worry and considers chickening out.

“You look like Chat Noir,” Nathalie corrects, fiddling with her glasses.

He purses his lips. “…If it’s that bad, tell me to go change.”

She shakes her head and relents. “It’s not bad. It’s…I believe the correct classification is ‘sexy’. You project a ‘bad boy’ image.” He can hear the finger quotes in her voice despite her not physically using them. “You look good, Adrien; you just don’t look much like…‘you’.”

“Me me, or Adrien Agreste, face of Gabriel?” he wonders.

She turns away without responding. “You’re going to be late. If your father asks, I did not see you before you left. I have no knowledge of this.” She makes her way to the ground floor office. “Have a nice day, and good luck with Miss Dupain-Cheng.”

Adrien sighs and calls after her. “Thank you, Nathalie!”

 Victor takes one look at him and shakes his head as he opens the back door of the car.

Adrien smiles innocently, opening the front passenger side door for himself and sliding in with a snicker of, “Shotgun!”

Vitya rolls his eyes, shuts the door, and goes around to get in the driver’s seat. He releases the parking break and then pauses, turning to look at Adrien again.

“Problem?” Adrien asks in Russian.

Victor sighs heavily. “Adrianushka, it is not my place, and I hate to say it, but—this—is obvious.”

Adrien blinks, thinking for a second that he has not heard right or mistranslated a word somewhere. “…‘This’?”

Vitya rolls his eyes once more and indicates Adrien’s outfit with a wave.

Adrien’s eyes widen. “Geez. Does everybody know?”

Victor grunts.

Adrien hangs his head. “I thought I was being careful. I thought I was being stealthy.”

Victor purses his lips, giving his charge a look of sympathy. “Adrianka, I’ve been your guard for how long now? I drive you for how many years, and you think I don’t notice you sneaking off during every single akuma attack and then slinking back with some hairbrained excuse that doesn’t hold water? You think I’m dumb enough to believe you?”

Adrien wilts.

Victor came to them a year or two after Nathalie. This man has known him since he was little, stood guard by his door for years, never been too far out of sight. Of course Vitya knows.

“Sorry,” Adrien mumbles. “No. Of course you figured it out.” He looks up with a pained expression on his face. “Do you think anyone else knows?”

Victor shrugs. “Natalka, obviously. She hasn’t said anything, but…”

“Yeah,” Adrien confirms. “Nathalie knows…. Do you think my father has any idea?”

Vitya lets out a boisterous roar of laughter. “Ha! Your father! Adriashenka, if your father knew, he would take your-your—what is it? Ring? He’d take your ring and lock you up for your own safety. Your father hasn’t an inkling.”

Adrien nods, looking miserable.

“There are times when I want to take your ring and lock you up myself, and I’m sure that Natalka feels the same way. She was a wreck on Thursday. Adrian Gavrillovich Agreste, if you’re not more careful in the future, you’re going to drive that woman to drink. Child, the whole house would be a—” It’s a word Adrien doesn’t know, but Victor’s tone makes it sound something like ‘dumpster fire’. “—if we lost you. Don’t you know this?”

Adrien curls even further up into himself and answers in a barely-there voice, “Sorry, Vitya.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Victor coaxes, giving Adrien’s arm an encouraging nudge. “Just don’t get yourself killed. Simple as that.”

This makes Adrien laugh, half genuine humor, half ruefulness. He gives Victor a watery smile. “It’s not so simple when it’s your job to keep Paris’s savior safe so that she can do her job.”

Victor gives a dismissive wave. “What are you—” An idiomatic expression that Adrien is not familiar with. From the tone, he fills in “chopped liver?” “—As if she saves Paris all by herself,” Victor scoffs. “Figure something out next time, Adrianka. Keep her safe without jumping in front of the car yourself. Your first instinct is always to act as a human shield. Kindly, cut it the—” Adrien knows that word, and it is a testament to how upset the ordeal has made Victor that he is using such strong language in front of Adrien. “—out, will you? Okay? Okay. We should be driving now. I’m making you late.”

They pull out of the drive and onto the street, making a few turns before ending up on the Quai Branly, taking the scenic route along the Seine on the Left Bank.

“So,” Vitya pipes up some minutes later. “Why are you being obvious today? I thought the superhero thing was a secret. Why are you trying to out yourself to all of Paris?”

“I’m only trying to out myself to one person in particular,” Adrien explains sheepishly, “…even though all of Paris might figure it out as a result. I’m being super reckless.”

“I’ll say,” Victor snorts. “And who is this special person you’re taking such a risk for?”

Adrien feels his cheeks heating up, but he doesn’t bother trying to hide it. Vitya would never make fun of him, so there’s no need to be embarrassed. “There’s…this girl.” Adrien bites his lip, casting Victor a sidelong glance. “Can I do this in French?”

Victor grunts. “English would be better for me, if you have to, but try it in Russian. If you don’t know the words, I’ll help you.”

Adrien nods, taking a deep breath. “There’s this girl.”

“Not Ladybug?” Vitya hums.

“Not Ladybug, but she might as well be for how-how—how do I say she’s so much better than I am?” Adrien fishes.

“She’s not,” Vitya snorts, “but the expression is ‘she is out of my league’.”

“Vitya, she is so out of my league. She’s gorgeous and talented and passionate and kind to people who don’t even deserve it, and she listens to me when I talk, and she doesn’t make me feel like an idiot, even though I most definitely am an idiot. She’s so… She’s amazing, Vitya. She’s so amazing, and I’m…” He shakes his head, knowing that he’s not doing Marinette justice.

“And you’re not amazing?” Victor shoots him a quick, disbelieving look before focusing back on the street as he makes the turn, crossing over to the Right Bank and heading east.

“I’m rich, and I’m pretty,” Adrien remarks dryly. “I’m not amazing.”

Vitya shakes his head. “The boy is blind. Never mind, Adrianka. Tell me about the girl.”

“I’ve been spending time with her as Chat Noir,” he continues.

Victor nods knowingly. “This is the girl who is Princess. I saw in the papers.”

“And we’re kind of thinking…maybe we like each other.” Adrien bites his lip before switching to English, making sure to enunciate. “Vitya, it’s complicated. She just got her heart broken by some jerk, and I’m trying to get over my feelings for Ladybug. Neither of us is ready to date yet, so I can’t let myself fall in love with her, but I do have a huge crush on her, and she’s taking the next month or two to decide if she wants to date me.”

Victor nods along, following Adrien’s predicament.

Adrien switches back to Russian. “She likes Chat Noir, but she’s unsure about Adrien. I want her to choose all of me, so I’m trying to show her pieces of Chat in Adrien and pieces of Adrien in Chat.”

“So you’re exposing your identity to the whole school,” Victor snickers. “Good plan. Agreste men really do do some pretty stupid things for the women they love. I think I owe Natalka five euros.”

Adrien wonders what exactly Gabriel has done to merit this comment alongside Adrien because Adrien knows exactly how stupid this is.

“Maybe people will just think I’m dressed up as Chat Noir. Maybe they won’t immediately think that I am Chat Noir,” Adrien suggests, mentally crossing his fingers.

Victor considers for a moment and then shrugs. “You did get away from that music video—” Adrien is going to have to make a study of idiomatic expressions. He’s guessing this one means something like “scot-free”. “—Maybe you’ll be so lucky this time.”

Victor sneaks another quick glance at Adrien. “Who exactly are you doing this for?”

Adrien sighs, reaching up to run a hand through his hair before he remembers the disgusting amount of gel currently in it. He drops his arm by his side and mumbles, “You know my classmate Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

Victor’s eyes go wide. He makes an exclamation that Adrien decides to translate as “Get out!” “Little Masha from the bakery?”

Adrien blinks. “Masha?”

“It’s the diminutive of ‘Marie’,” Victor explains. “She brings me coffee and a croissant when I’m sitting out front of the school in the mornings. She’s usually running late, but if she sees me waiting out front, she never fails to bring out a cup of coffee and a croissant.”

“See how amazing she is?” Adrien sighs. “That’s the kind of stuff that she does. All the time!”

“She’s a good girl,” Vitya agrees. “And you’re going to—” Adrien remembers only that it’s a cooking term, but he can’t match the verb to its French counterpart. “—her brain when she sees you dressed like Chat Noir.”

Adrien blinks. “You think? Do you think she’ll be able to tell that I really am Chat Noir?”

Victor purses his lips. “You mean once someone reboots her? No. The girl is clueless.”

It’s true, but…

Adrien sighs.

 Nino takes one look at him, and—after the DJ has secured his eyeballs back into their sockets—rolls said eyes at Adrien. “Mec. My Dude. What. Are. You. Doing?!”

“Chat Noir cosplay?” Adrien smiles sheepishly.

Nino groans. “Mec, I know you’re just discovering an awesome girl with a thing for a certain superhero, but dressing like that superhero to get her to notice you… You’re gonna break her.”

“Nino, I don’t expect you to understand, but the situation is desperate, otherwise, I wouldn’t be doing something drastic like this,” Adrien sighs, reaching up for another aborted attempt to card a hand through his hair until he remembers the mess of gel. “I wish I could explain myself, but…” He gives his best friend a doe-eyed look of regret.

Nino takes off his hat to swipe at his brow with the back of his hand. He shakes his head and groans again. “You don’t have to explain yourself, Mec. I get it. Girls make guys do ridiculous things. I’m in love myself; I know this firsthand.”

A slow blush creeps over Adrien’s face at the comment. He doesn’t respond, even though his mind is chanting, “I’m not in love. I’m not in love. I canNOT be in love.”

On second thought, some verbal denial is deemed necessary. “Nino, I’m not in love with Marinette. This is just a little crush.”

Nino really looks at Adrien, smiles affectionately, and then shakes his head. “Oooh, Mec. Last week you told me you had never thought about her romantically in your life.”

“That was true!” Adrien rushes to defend himself. “I hadn’t until you brought it up—and while we’re on the topic, why didn’t you bring this up three years ago before Chat Noir got his paws on her?”

Nino shrugs. “Ask Alya. This wasn’t my idea, remember?—And then you were telling me your feelings for Marinette weren’t like that.”

“I was in denial,” Adrien rebuts. “I hadn’t realized that how I was feeling had shifted.”

“Now you admit you have a crush, but you’re digging your heels in concerning the intensity of your feelings,” Nino continues with a weary sigh, exhausted by the constant drama.

“Nino, I’m not in love,” Adrien stubbornly insists. “I can’t be.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t risk giving my heart away to be trampled on again,” Adrien stresses, making Nino wonder who’s been trampling on Adrien’s heart. Certainly not Ladybug. “I can’t let myself fall in love until I’m sure I’m not just courting misery and heartache here.”

Nino helpfully does not mention that Adrien is already experiencing misery and heartache over Marinette. “As your friend, I need you to stay the hell away from this girl. She likes someone else—not just anyone, but a superhero and a personal friend of yours—and she’s already had you seriously messed up the past week. If you pursue this, it’s only gonna get worse. This is a bad idea, Mec. She’s practically taken, and you’re only going to get yourself hurt—maybe physically, if you step on Chat Noir’s toes a time too many. He seems fond of you, but he also seems like the jealous type, and I can tell you from personally seeing them together yesterday that he is off the deep end in love with her. This isn’t going to be pretty, Adrien.”

Adrien shakes his head. “Nino, I don’t expect you to understand, but—”

“—Mec, I do understand,” Nino cuts him off gently, clapping a hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “That’s why, against my better judgment, I’m giving up and letting you do” He waves obliquely to Adrien’s outfit. “this. I’m going to shut up and support you. If you want to take on Chat Noir, I’ll be at your side. We can go get ice cream together or something after he wipes the floor with you.”

Adrien frowns. “Thank you? I appreciate your vote of confidence in me?”

“I’m being realistic,” Nino sighs, wishing he could go back and change things for Adrien. “I’m not trying to be harsh with you, Mec, but it would be cruel to encourage you and get your hopes up. The reality is that she loves him but cries ninety percent of the time she sees you. We’re fighting a losing battle, mon pote, and I’m prepared to fail and have to clean you up off of the floor afterwards. I’ll stand by you, Adrien, but I’m not going to lie to you to make you feel better in the short term.”

Adrien’s frown melts partially into confusion. “I’m not sure if you suck or if you’re the best.”

“I am Schrödinger’s turtle: simultaneously sucking and being the best,” Nino snorts, throwing an arm around Adrien’s shoulders. “Come on. We walk, Cat-Boy-Wannabe.”

“Why a turtle?”

“Reasons,” Nino snickers.

“…You suck,” Adrien decides.

“Only for you.” Nino winks, guiding Adrien through the quad towards the locker rooms.

Adrien rolls his eyes. “What if Chat Noir asked? I know you’re a total fanboy, Nino. Don’t pretend we’re exclusive.”

“I think Marinette is—” The innuendo concerning Marinette taking care of Chat Noir dies in Nino’s throat. He attempts to clear it.

Adrien tries really, really, really hard not to remember Marinette kneeling in front of him last night, pillowing her arms on his knees and looking up at him so sweetly, running her hands down his thighs and calling him by name.

He takes a deep breath and sighs at the futility of his situation.

“Sorry,” Nino mumbles for entirely the wrong reason. “We’ll get her to see you.” And yet somehow manages to pick the right words of comfort. “She’ll see how awesome Adrien Agreste can be, and, at the very least, you two can repair your relationship and be close friends. You’ve wanted that for a while, right?”

Adrien nods despite himself. Two weeks ago, the prospect of being honest-to-goodness friends with Marinette would have had him giddy. Now, if that’s all he gets… His stomach turns sour.

“Please let her see me…. Please let her like what she sees.”

As they pass through the quad, Adrien notes that he gets more stares and head-turns than usual. He keeps his easy model smile in place, but his voice is anxious when he whispers to Nino, “You don’t think anyone’s going to confuse me for the real Chat Noir, do you? I didn’t think of that.”

Nino shakes his head. “Nah. I mean the resemblance is striking—you had me seeing double for a minute there when you stepped out of the car—but you’re obviously not him.”

“How so?” Adrien feels slightly annoyed despite the fact that the security of his identity is astronomically important.

“Well,” Nino drops his arm from Adrien’s shoulders and takes a step back to better evaluate. “You two have the same body type, and the other physical features are similar, if not exact, but your hair is definitely not Chat Noir hair. His is naturally wild, and you can tell he rolls out of bed that way. Your hair looks like you had to coerce it to do that, and it still didn’t do exactly what you asked of it.”

Adrien sighs, giving up and conceding the point. “You have no idea how much gel I had to use to get it to do this. I would need literal magic to replicate Chat’s hair.”

“No shame in that, Mec. We can’t all have hair that fabulous,” Nino chuckles.

“What else about me is obviously not Chat Noir?” Adrien prompts.

“Well…” Nino bites his lip. “Sorry, but you’re too short.”

“Short?” Adrien is pretty sure he is exactly the right height to be Chat Noir.

“Yeah, I mean…Chat is about six foot. I’m six-one, and he’s just a hint shorter than me. You…” Nino grimaces. “Let’s just say it’s a good thing you got in on the model thing on the ground floor because you just don’t have the height for it.”

Adrien blinks stupidly, feeling insulted. He’s not THAT short.

“What are you? Like, five-eight?”

“Five-ten,” (in shoes) Adrien spits, drawing himself up a little straighter.

Nino shrugs helplessly. “It’s not your fault you dodged all the tall genes in your family. Maybe you’ll still have a growth spurt. I mean, Gabe is what? Six-four? And Nathalie is at least six feet, right? Both your parents are tall, so there’s still hope.”

Adrien stares for a moment and then breaks into a titter.

“What?” Nino gives him a funny look.

Adrien shakes his head. “Yeah. My mom is pretty tall, isn’t she?”

“And it’s not like she wears heels, really. You’d think with genes like that you’d be set.” Nino shrugs in a “What are ya gonna do?” manner.

“Unfortunately, my biological mother was only five-nine, so I don’t think my mom’s six-foot status is going to do much to help,” Adrien laughs heartily, more amused than he probably should be.

Nino smacks himself in the forehead. “Dude. Sorry. I don’t know where my head was at. I, like, know—”

“—Don’t apologize,” Adrien quickly cuts him off. “I’m actually really happy. I think of her as my mom, and if other people do too, I can probably get away with saying the ‘m’ word. It’s been a long time since I could talk about mothers in the present tense.”

Sensing Nino’s unease, Adrien grins and throws his arm around Nino’s shoulders. “So. What else makes me definitely not Chat Noir?” he inquires as they resume their walk to the locker room.

 “—but they couldn’t hide the existence of a twin brother for seventeen years, could they? That’s just stupid,” Marinette groans, trying not to tear her hair out. She’s got it up in a cute chignon that she wants Chat to see, so it has to stay cute at least until she gets to the locker room where he’s probably lying in wait, lurking in the shadows…or, more likely, just plain going about his business with her completely oblivious to his existence.

Ugh.

“It does sound a little bit like the plot of an anime,” Alya confesses, nose buried in her phone. “I think we would know if Adrien and your Mystery Boy Chat were switching in and out.”

“Then again,” Marinette hums, fiddling with the black and white lace bracelet around her right wrist. “Stranger things have happened. I am living in the middle of a magical girl anime, after all.”

“Yeah, and you’re a reoccurring background character. How does that feel?” Alya hums, nearly walking into the doorframe.

For once, Marinette has to be the one to pull Alya out of the way before she runs into something. The irony is not lost on Marinette. “Alya, what are you even reading? You haven’t looked at me once this morning, you’re so absorbed in your screen.”

Alya blinks and looks up, rubs her eyes, and stares. “Wooow. Really looking to knock the boxers off someone, aren’t we?”

“Al-ya!” Marinette squeaks, swatting halfheartedly at her best friend.

Marinette is wearing an off-the-shoulder black top exposing plenty of collarbone paired with black and white patterned palazzo pants that look like a maxi skirt and billow as she walks. Adorning her neck and wrist and accenting her updo are the black and white choker, bracelet, and hair clip that she made last night out of Chat’s gift.

“I just wanted to look cute. Chat sent me some lace scraps leftover from some of his father’s old designs for our one-week anniversary last night, so…” Marinette shrugs again, and Alya stops walking.

“Let’s pause and unpack that sentence,” Alya proposes. “I would like to focus on what you mean by lace leftover from Chat’s father’s designs and the one-week anniversary aspects in particular.”

Marinette waves Alya away. “His father’s company is apparently a fashion house. He’s a fashion designer. Chat models for his father’s brand.”

Alya’s eyes narrow. “I hate to keep bringing it up, but…are we sure that Adrien and Chat are two unique individuals?”

“Not you too,” Marinette groans, half crumpling to the ground before straightening up to point a no-nonsense finger in Alya’s face. “No. Banish the thought from your mind. They’ve been screwing with me about this since-since…Friday? Anyway, I don’t need you helping them with their scheme to drive me insane.”

“Adrien and Chat are teaming up to drive you insane,” Alya repeats flatly, obviously doubting Marinette’s sanity already.

“Yes! This is where the twins theory comes from. I think Adrien’s the younger twin, despite seeming more mature and refined.”

“Uh-huh.” Alya starts to go back to her phone. “One-week anniversary?” she reminds. “Do people do that?”

“Chat and I do,” Marinette retorts as if Alya is the strange one.

“Girl, he’s already got you on the hook and wriggling. I’m gonna need his phone number and email. I’m totally serious.”

Marinette snatches Alya’s phone. “What are you even—” She freezes at what she sees.

“Webcomic,” Alya explains, making a grab for her phone.

Marinette dodges rather agilely, scrolling down and down, mesmerized by the drawings, the dialogue.

“The artist, APlaggOnBothYourHouses, is doing a Princess Noir comic, and it’s really good.”

Chat and Princess are sitting on a roof having the picnic Chat Noir prepared for Ladybug before Glaciator, watching the Eiffel Tower light show. Chat’s arm is around her, their faces a mere handspan apart, and Princess is obviously totally into him. Chat is likewise drunk on Princess’s existence.

“His art is amazing, and the story is actually pretty interesting too. Plagg postulates that Princess doesn’t know Chat Noir’s identity, and one of the main plot points is Chat Noir as a civilian trying to get Princess as a civilian to notice him and love both sides of him. They just keep completely missing one another, though.”

In the comic, Princess is asking Chat to take her stargazing sometime, and Chat is talking about going to his family’s chateau in the country in August during the break, since she’ll have figured out his identity by then.

Marinette claps a hand over her mouth. She is going to kill Plagg, because it can only be Plagg. …On second thought, she is going to have Tikki kill Plagg. Tikki will have a better idea of how to go about it and has probably been waiting several millennia for a valid excuse to do so.

“What…is Princess’s true identity in the comic?” Marinette tries not to sound too invested in the answer.

Alya shrugs, ceasing her efforts at phone retrieval. “She’s just a regular girl like any one of us. She doesn’t think she’s special or anything, but Chat Noir sees the greatness in her and adores her for it. Her name is Adrienne. Her parents own a restaurant up in Montmartre that she sometimes helps out at.”

Marinette forces herself to draw air into her lungs. “And…who is Chat?”

Alya shrugs again. “Some made-up teen actor named Marin Mineau. It’s just a fan work, Marinette. It’s not like Plagg knows their real identities. It’s all speculation and imagination.”

Marinette hands the phone back, not wanting to see any more. It’s better if she doesn’t know. It’s better if she doesn’t think about it. “Could you send me the link?” she finds herself asking. It’s part morbid curiosity, part the need to tell Chat about this.

Plagg has to be responsible. Who else would switch Adrien and Marinette around into Adrienne and Marin? Who else would even create a Princess Noir comic anyway? Chat, Adrien, Tikki, and Marinette herself are the only other possible suspects, and she has a feeling that it’s not any of them.

“Are you finally taking an interest in Paris’s latest power couple?” Alya titters mischievously, sending the link.

“Alya, I love you, but I’m too wrapped up in my own love life right now to bother with anyone else’s.”

Alya opens the locker room door, catches sight of Adrien leaning up against Marinette’s locker, watermelon pink rose in hand, and relents. “You have a point. I believe your love life requires your full and undivided attention as we speak.”

Marinette frowns as Alya starts to walk away. “What?”

“Good luck!” Alya calls, heading for her own locker.

Marinette shakes her head, too tired to deal with this nonsense. With a sigh, she points herself in the right direction. 

Adrien comes into focus, and Marinette halts as her brain attempts to process. She’s not sure what she’s seeing. That’s Chat Noir, but he’s not wearing his suit or his mask or his cat ears. His hair isn’t quite right. His eyes aren’t quite right. He looks like Adrien, but he looks like Chat, but he looks like Adrien, but…

He moves, and it makes it so much worse. It’s not Adrien’s usual gait but Chat’s. He slinks like Chat towards her, coming to a stop entirely too close, only two feet away.

“Good Morning, Princess,” he purrs, all Chat as he scoops up her hand and presses a kiss to the inside of her wrist, lips brushing against the lace there.

He offers her the rose. It’s the same pink color as the dried rose in the vase on her shelf in her loft was back when it was fresh…the rose he gave her—Chat gave her—during the Papa Garou incident.

“It reminded me of you,” he coos, refusing to let Adrien be embarrassed by any of this. He’s Chat right now, even without the mask, and he has no qualms about being a total flirt. “More specifically, your lips.”

He taps them ever so lightly with his index finger and winks. The wink is very Adrien, but the tone is very Chat.

Marinette’s brain shuts down for a fourth time, and all that comes out of her mouth is a strangled noise of confusion.

“Say, are you tired?” he prompts.

Marinette arches an eyebrow in bewilderment, pathetically trying to keep up.

“I just wondered. I know you have a lot of stamina, but since you’re been running through my mind all night… I mean, that has to tire you out, right?”

Marinette is tempted to smack herself in the face. She’s tempted to smack HIM in the face, whoever he is. (Her brain can’t quite decide right now, and she’s pretty sure she’s seeing things.)

“By the way,” his voice softens. “The accessories you made with that lace turned out exquisitely. I knew you’d be able to make something beautiful with them. You’re so talented, Princess.”

Marinette melts a little bit at the genuine admiration in his voice. The rest has felt like a ruse precisely calculated to mimic the fake, flirty side of Chat that turned her off for so long. It seemed orchestrated to annoy her, but this…

She nervously fingers the lace choker around her neck, blushing under his adoring gaze. She opens her mouth to thank him, but then he goes and ruins everything.

“Your hair looks gorgeous in a chignon like that,” he whispers, as if it’s their own private joke.

It is Chat and Marinette’s private joke, and her brain has finally decided that this is definitely just Adrien Agreste screwing with her.

“You should wear it like that more often,” he adds in a voice so low, she’s the only one who can hear it.

He reaches out and takes the chin-length bang that is always out of place, pressing a reverent kiss to it.

That is it.

Marinette emits a high-pitched noise akin to a boiling teapot, causing Adrien to jerk back in concern.

“Princess? I’m sorry. I—”

“—I’m going to kick you in the shin,” Marinette announces coolly.

Adrien only has enough time to blink in confusion and get out half a “Wha—?” before she makes good on her threat.

Adrien yelps as her foot makes contact with his shin. “What the hell?!” he squawks.

“You don’t get to say ‘what the hell’!” Marinette snaps. “I get to say ‘what the hell’! What the hell, Adrien Agreste?!” She punctuates the question with a one-handed shove to his chest.

“Princess,” he attempts to placate, but she’s having none of it.

“Don’t call me that!” she squeaks. “There’s only one person allowed to call me that, and you’re NOT him, Adrien Agreste, so just cut it the hell out! I’m so sick of you two!” She shoves him again, and he takes it. “I’m sick of this game!”

“It’s not a game!” Adrien snaps back, the frustration finally coming to a head. He steps forward. “Maybe I’m sick of you. Maybe I’m fed up with the way you smile and laugh with him and burst into tears with me. Maybe I’m jealous.” He steps forward again, forcing her either to retreat or come chest to chest with him.

Marinette does not back down. She leans into him, hands going to her hips as she presses forward, the length of her body flush against his. It’s a tug of war she does not intend to lose. She will push him over before she allows herself to lose ground.

“Oh, you’re jealous?” she hisses. “What? Do you want me to scratch behind your ear and call you pet names too?”

She reaches up and does just that, and she feels his body soften, some of the tension evaporating at her touch.

“Hmm? How’s that, Minou?” She says it gently, but there are obviously barbs in her words. “Does that sooth your bruised ego?”

There’s a sharp intake of breath as she trails a hand down his neck.

“Hmm?” she prompts. “Is that better, Minou? Is this what you want?”

“I want you to see me,” he mutters, feeling all kinds of confused. His brain is scrambled.

“Why? You’ve never seen me,” she retorts with another shove. “Where do you get off being jealous anyhow?” She’s snapping again. “Two weeks ago you had zero interest in me. Now, now that your friend or your brother or your cousin or whoever likes me, now I’m suddenly worth paying attention to? You’re not really interested in me, Adrien. You’re just throwing a childish fit, so kindly cut it the hell out.” She punctuates her words with a fourth shove.

He doesn’t budge. He presses harder, almost managing to knock her back. Despite his height and weight advantage, Marinette is strong, and she stands firm.

He grits his teeth. “Listen here, Beautiful. I—”

“—Okay, okay. Enough!” Nino shouts, physically picking Marinette up and moving her so that he can come between them.

Adrien nearly falls over, and Marinette gives an undignified squawk.

“Al, put your damn phone down and stop filming. The rest of you, stop gawking. There’s nothing to see here,” Nino instructs, bristling at the rubberneckers.

He turns back to Adrien and Marinette and glares. “Breathe. The both of you.”

Marinette opens her mouth to protest, but Nino cuts her off with a look and a warning finger in her face. “Don’t get akumatized.”

Marinette audibly begins to breathe deeply.

Nino turns to Adrien with a sympathetic look. “You too, Mec.”

Adrien gazes back miserably like a chastened puppy.

“It’s okay, Mec,” Nino coaxes. “She doesn’t hate you. We’ll fix this, so just breathe and don’t get akumatized. That’s your job right now.”

Adrien nods and forces himself to keep inhaling and exhaling in a steady rhythm. He doesn’t dare look at Marinette.

“Okay,” Nino interrupts the breathing exercise a minute later, resting one hand on Marinette’s arm and the other on Adrien’s. “I think the lady gets an apology first. Adrien, please apologize to Marinette for this stunt.”

Adrien crumples, voice low, soft, and thoroughly beaten. “I’m sorry, Marinette. This was stupid. I should have known you wouldn’t react positively. I was just kidding myself thinking this would end well.”

Nino nods, satisfied. “Marinette, Adrien is sorry that he upset you. What do you say?”

She looks dumbly at one of her oldest friends. This feels like a test she hasn’t studied for. “…I…What do you want me to say? I’m still mad. He’s being childish and objectifying me. I’m not some prize for him to fight Chat over. I deserve more consideration than that, and he wasn’t remotely interested in me before a week ago. I’m…I’m still mad.”

Nino takes a long inhale, trying to be patient. “Pot.” He pokes her on the cheek. “Kettle.” He indicates Adrien. “Marinette, look at him.”

Adrien tries to melt through the floor. He wants to escape because he can feel her eyes on him, and they burn.

Nino lowers his voice even further so that only the three of them can hear. “Marinette, give him a break. He doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. He wants your attention. He wants you not to hate him. He spent the first thirteen years of his life locked up in a mansion with very little contact with people his own age. He’s dealing with a steep learning curve, and I’d say he’s doing pretty good. Can you imagine how hard it would be to act normal when you have very little conception of what normal is? You have a hard enough time in life with a supportive family and friends who love you. You’ve got to admit that Adrien’s playing with the deck stacked against him. Show a little mercy, will ya? He’s just trying to get you to like him, yeah?”

“I do like him,” Marinette grumbles, cheeks red as she looks away from Adrien’s cowering form. “I like him when he’s my friend Adrien, not when he’s badly imitating my friend Chat.”

Nino internally counts to three. “Okay. That’s fair. I’m in no way saying you don’t have any reason to be upset. I realize that it’s been a very emotional week, but I think right now that you’re not being fair to Adrien.”

Marinette cocks an eyebrow but waits patiently for Nino to continue.

“Let’s do a thought experiment,” Nino proposes as if talking to a room full of rowdy elementary school students. “Marinette, last week, Monday morning, if I had asked you, ‘Marinette, what do you think of Chat Noir romantically?’ what would you have said?”

Marinette’s face goes pale, and she steps back, away from Nino and closer to the lockers, crossing her arms. “I-I don’t know,” she answers cagily.

“I call bull,” Nino scoffs. “You know what you would have said. You would have told me, ‘Not in a thousand years’ and that there was someone else. And now, one week later, I hear from Alya that you two are already planning your wedding. If you can change your mind in one week, why can’t Adrien?”

“…Oh,” Marinette barely manages to meep out. All color has completely drained out of her cheeks, and she’s looking a little unsteady.

“Yes,” Nino laughs without mirth. “‘Oh’. Now, do you really think your friend Adrien would ever objectify you? Turn you into a trophy to fight some other guy over? Do you really think he’s just being childish right now?”

“No,” Marinette whispers down at her feet. “But if he isn’t…then I don’t know what to think at the moment.”

“Well then, it sounds like you have some thinking to do, don’t you?” Nino announces, voice going gentle. He doesn’t want to push her too hard and doom Paris because of it, so he’s backing off a little but not letting her completely off the hook yet.

She nods obediently, eyes wide and horrified at the discovery of her own hypocrisy. Helpfully, her mind calls up all the times she ever hurt Chat as Ladybug, adding on to the guilt pile.

“Now,” Nino coaxes. “You’re allowed to be sore about it in private, but Adrien just told you he was sorry for upsetting you. What do you say, Marinette?”

“Stop,” Adrien insists, firmly but kindly, as he steps between Nino and Marinette, shielding her. “Thanks, Nino, but she’s fine. You’re just upsetting her. She doesn’t have to apologize to me. She hasn’t done anything wrong. I mean, I’m the one who started it.”

“God, I’m such a witch,” Marinette mumbles, only half cognizant of what’s going on around her.

Adrien turns and takes her by the shoulders. “Princess, you are not. You are one of the most spectacular human beings I’ve ever met.”

She shakes her head sadly. “How can you say that when I’ve been nothing but awful to you for going on a week now? Why can’t you just be mad at me?”

“I am mad,” Adrien confesses. “I’m just more smitten than mad most of the time.”

Marinette lets out an enormous groan, bringing her head down to rest on his shoulder. “You two have got to be related; you sound just like him.”

She peeks up tentatively. “I need to sit you down and confess my sins against you at length sometime. You won’t find me nearly so wonderful after that.”

His hands slide down her arms to hold her hands loosely, careful not to damage the rose still gripped in her palm.

“Try me,” he dares her, words feather light in her ear.

She shakes her head. “Too much of a scaredy-cat right now. Maybe later today. Maybe tomorrow…. Maybe never.”

Marinette steps back, slowly pulling away from him. “I’m really sorry, Adrien. Thank you for the rose.”

He catches her hand and brings it to his lips. “I’ve already forgiven you, Marinette. Try to forgive yourself.”

She sighs loudly and pulls her hand away again. “How are you so good?” Tears begin to sting her eyes as she reaches out and rings the bell on his choker. “Stop being so good, Minou.”

His brain momentarily goes offline as he thinks that he’ll be just as bad as she wants him to be if she’ll only do that again.

“You’re such a lightweight, Agreste,” he mentally chides.

“You’re so good,” she repeats, the tears beginning to fall.

He reaches out in alarm to wipe at the tears, but she smiles and waves his hands away gently.

“And I can’t be around you right now, but that doesn’t mean I hate you, okay? Excuse me.”

She bolts across the locker room and yanks her locker open with a strange desperation.

The recording of the day starts up, and the tension abruptly leaves Marinette’s body. The tears dry up, and she smiles lovingly at the sound of Chat’s voice.

The scene makes Adrien feel weak at the knees because she’s making that face for him, because of him.

“Hey, Beautiful!” the Chat in the recording greets, and she perks up. “Good Morning.”

Chat does help. Chat does make a difference…and, maybe, if Adrien keeps working on it, maybe Adrien can too.

“It’s actually two in the morning right now, and guess what I’m doing?” the Chat recording continues.

“Not sleeping,” Marinette scoffs, grabbing her English text out of her locker.

“Right. Not sleeping,” Chat sighs.

Marinette giggles, and Alya comes over to join her. “Even though you said you were exhausted last night?”

“I know I was complaining about how exhausted I was, but now that I’m home, I’m wide awake.”

“Why?” Marinette inquires during the brief pause.

“…I’m actually kind of nervous about seeing you tomorrow,” Chat’s disembodied voice confesses, causing Marinette to pause and frown.

“You’re either going to know it’s me right away and probably hit me…or you’re not, and that’s going to suck…. But you’re all here for the music, not to stand around and listen to me talk. This one is super annoying. If you’ve seen me, you can hit me. If not, think of having this song stuck in your head all day as your punishment.”

Marinette winces.

“I’m just kidding, Marinette,” Chat laughs, and Adrien can definitely tell that he did this at two AM. “I love you.”

There is a collective gasp in the locker room, and many students begin to cheer. Rose is actually jumping up and down while Kim begrudgingly hands Alix ten euros, obviously having lost a bet concerning Marinette and Chat’s love life.

“This is Elle Me Dit by Mika,” Chat announces, and then the music starts.

Amid the general commotion, Nino turns to Adrien and gives him a funny look.

Adrien barely notices. He’s too busy watching Marinette.

“Mec?”

“Hmm?” He doesn’t take his eyes off of her.

“Your voices are really similar,” Nino remarks, giving Adrien a thoughtful stare.

Adrien isn’t paying attention. “Whose?”

“Your voice and Chat’s voice,” Nino expounds upon his comment.

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t hear my voice outside of my own skull often.” Adrien shrugs, throat beginning to tighten as Marinette slowly scans the room, obviously looking for him. “Is it bad that I sound like Chat?”

Nino shakes his head, letting go of the peculiar thought. “No. It’s just…an odd coincidence.”

Adrien hums thoughtfully starting to fidget as Marinette’s eyes come closer and closer to finding his own. “Would you still think it was odd if I told you we’re related?”

Nino blinks. “Oh. Like how Noël is supposedly starting to sound like me when he picks up the phone.”

Only Nino is not aware of Adrien having any relatives. In fact, Adrien has specifically told him before that his parents were both only children, so that rules out the possibility of cousins. This bothers Nino.

Marinette’s eyes finally come to rest upon Adrien, and they pause there for a second.

He gives her his best smile, hoping she notices how she makes him light up from within.

Marinette smiles fondly and gives a soft laugh before resuming her scan.

Adrien’s heart plummets.

It doesn’t look like it’s happening today.

He sighs, crestfallen.

Nino abandons his conspiracy theories to raise an eyebrow in concern at Adrien. “Everything okay, Dude?”

Adrien shakes his head. “This is Ladybug all over again. I’m going to wind up in the friend zone my entire life, and this is just me struggling futilely before giving up, resigning myself to my fate.”

Nino takes Adrien by the shoulders and forces Adrien to face him. “Mec…drama much? Don’t think that way. She…” Nino doesn’t know where he’s going with this, doesn’t know what to say to make it better for Adrien without outright lying. “…Wanna skip class and go get ice cream right now?”

Adrien laughs hollowly. “I’m actually partial to pastries over ice cream. I would live on Tom and Sabine’s pain au chocolat, given the opportunity.”

“Let’s go,” Nino prompts, slapping Adrien on the back. “Come on. Right now. It’s literally next door; we’ll be back before anyone misses us.”

Adrien shakes his head slowly. “Maybe some other time. I kind of just want to stand here and feel miserable watching her.”

Nino sighs, giving Adrien’s arm two condoling pats.

Marinette finishes her scan, looking about as disappointed as Adrien feels. She blows out a sigh as she pulls out her phone.

Adrien’s pocket vibrates, and his heart soars.

“Secret girlfriend?” Nino grumbles.

“Secret girlfriend,” Adrien giggles, suddenly feeling like he can walk on air.

“I love you too, Minou,” says Marinette’s first text. The others follow shortly: “I’m so sorry I’m disappointing you.” “Hang in there.” “I’ll find you soon.”

Adrien hurriedly types back, “You could never disappoint me, Princess. I’ll be waiting as long as it takes.”

He looks up to see her smile, seemingly reassured by his response.

“Are you texting Marinette?” Nino wonders, looking back and forth between the two.

“Didn’t we have this fight yesterday?” Adrien pouts.

Nino puts his hands up in surrender and lets it drop.

Adrien looks back down at his flip phone and adds, “Your hair looks gorgeous in a chignon like that.”

Marinette chuckles, touching her hair self-consciously. “Thank you!” she replies.

She glances up and looks around, giving the search another try.

Their gazes lock for a second once more, and Adrien takes the opportunity to smile and wave, betting he looks utterly ridiculous. He can’t bring himself to care.

She gives him a funny look, but she smiles and sends a petite wave right back at him.

“I am doomed,” Adrien sighs happily.

“I’ll say,” Nino groans, inwardly beginning to plot. He’s going to do his best to make things right for Adrien, even if he has to stoop to some Alya-level scheming to accomplish it.

Somehow, Nino doubts he is actually capable of accomplishing Alya-level anything.

He might need the real Alya’s help with this.

[naiveandexperienced]

the beginning of the end.

for those of you who remember, i said i would post my final draft of my letter to alex when i got closer to my graduation date. although it's still three months away, i'm satisfied with the final draft of said letter so i will go ahead and post it now. i'm not going to give this to him. here we go:

I honestly don’t know where to start with this letter. You don’t know how many times I have written and rewritten every single word. I have decided that this is going to be my final draft whether I like it or not. Forgive me if it gets all over the place; my thought process when I’m feeling emotional isn’t very coherent. I guess, let me start off by saying that I wish this could be written better. I wish it could sound sophisticated and meaningful but frankly, my mindset is incapable of finding eloquent ways to express my feelings. I suppose a written letter is better than me attempting to speak to you; that would not go well. It’s sad that I still haven’t been able to properly talk to you after knowing you for two school years. Anyways, time for me to pour my heart out in this farewell letter.

Truth be told, I didn’t quite like you when I first came into your AP European History class. It’s not that I disliked you; you just intimidated me. You intimidated me from the first time I met you during orientation, when it was just me and you in your classroom. You intimidated me from forty feet down the hallway. Even during school assemblies, with all of those hundreds of people, your presence still intimidated me. I say ‘intimidated’ like it’s past tense but you still do, if I’m being honest.

Do you want to know what changed and why I so obviously became attached to you?

I doubt you remember, but some kid (Andre or Connor probably) pronounced ‘gif’ incorrectly and you told him that if he pronounced it like that again you would hang yourself with the blinds in your classroom. I know that it’s kind of odd but that is a really fond memory to me. It made me realize that you weren’t as scary as I thought and that you have the millennial sense of humor that I’m so comfortable with. It’s a weird feeling, being so comfortable around someone yet on edge at the same time.

It’s exhilarating.

It’s exhausting.

Being around you is so exhausting but I wouldn’t change it for the world because you have taught me so much. You got me motivated when I just wanted to give up. I wanted to try and succeed, which is something that had been buried for so long. I wanted to make you proud. I know that in the second semester of last year I failed at that.

When I got suspended I wasn’t thinking about myself; I was just thinking about you (which is idiotic, I'm aware).

I was devastated because I knew that I had disappointed you. I didn’t want you to see me as an idiotic child who couldn’t care less about succeeding. I didn’t want you to think less of me. The logical part of me would tell myself everyday that you would understand that people make mistakes but I was still terrified.

Even as I write this now (August 3rd, 2019; 2:55 AM), I still don’t know if I can stand to see you when school starts. Part of me wants you to be mad at me because I deserve it. I want you to tell me you’re disappointed in me. I want you to tell me this because that would mean you noticed and you actually cared. Another, larger part if terrified because I know that the truth is, you probably don’t care enough to get angry with me or to feel anger about what I did (if you do in fact know why I was suspended; if you don’t, long story short, I had a drinking problem and it finally caught up with me). You won’t tell me you were disappointed with my actions or that you forgive me because you’re not as deeply invested in me as I am you.

I’m just another student and that’s perfectly okay with me.

Of course it hurts, but I would rather have my heart broken a million times than have the possibility of your happiness being taken away from you. Seeing you happy is all I need to be at peace with my emotions. Nothing makes me happier and nothing makes me sadder than you.

With that being said, I probably acted distant and indifferent to you throughout the year. I don’t know yet since I’m writing this before school even starts—it’s pathetic, writing about the end before it’s even begun. I have made a promise to myself to just treat you like any other teacher because if I allow myself any flicker of warmth, I know I will just fall back into this overwhelming pit. I’m sorry if it hurts your feelings (I doubt it will). It’s okay if you feel relieved (I expect you to). Addendum (August 25th, 2019): This letter was written under the impression that I would be in your government class, which I obviously was not. I don’t know why because I switched from AP to CP as soon as I heard that you were teaching CP Government this year and I put in a request to specifically be placed in your class with my counselor. She did that for me last year when I transferred to your APUSH class instead of Mrs. Wilson’s. With the new policy, I won’t be able to switch out of any of my classes next semester to take AP Human Geography or something that you might be teaching. I have a TA block next semester but it’s during first period and if it hasn’t changed, first period is your planning period. Plus even if it wasn’t, it is so hard to TA for you. A lot of people want to be your TA!

Now this is the part where you probably want to stop because having someone confess the whole truth to you is something that a lot of people can’t handle. The only reason that I feel comfortable enough to tell all of this to you is because you are one of the few people that I can 100% trust. I grasp onto the thought that you still stand by what you said about never getting mad at me ever with every coming sentence.

The saddest part about unrequited love is that you always try. Even as I tell myself to shut out anything other than teacher worthy emotions, I find myself clutching onto a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe you could love me back.

Please understand that although I did and do have feelings for you, everything that I did for you was not me trying to make you uncomfortable or seduce you or something like that. I would never never never want to do that to you. I truly did those things because I liked to make you happy. I love to do things for the people I love.

I don’t think you realized how devastated I was that time I got called to Student Services about you. I was so distraught that I had pushed too far and made you upset. Just the thought of me being the cause of you experiencing negative emotions makes me so upset with myself. I was so close to crying when I came into your classroom to ask if I did something wrong. Then you told me that everything was okay and for the first time in a long time, I actually believed it. You made me believe it.

I know I’ll miss you forever because the parts of you I have seen are some of the most beautiful pieces of a person that I have ever known. A wonderful quote by F. Scott Fitzgerald goes, “Suddenly, she realized that what she was regretting was not the lost past but the lost future, not what had not been but what would never be.” That quote flickers through my head a lot these days and I think it is very fitting for me and how our time is coming to an end. Even though we will never be together, it warms my heart to know that a person like you exists.

It’s weird to think about all of the things that I think about when it comes to you. It’s weird that I’m even writing this letter to you, which you have probably already stopped reading and have thrown it away or given it to administration or something of the like. None of it matters though because even if you have or haven’t stopped, I’m going to get everything out that I need to.

For starters, you confuse me. I doubt it was your intention but some of the things you said to me made me overthink everything. You randomly told me one day after I brought you coffee, and I quote, “Don’t ever worry about making me mad, okay? You could never make me mad.” You even repeated it to me when I didn’t respond to you the first time. You know what I did after that? I took that little bone and ran with it like a starving puppy. Then when I jokingly told Faith to tell you that I love you and you said you loved me too. Then at the Black and White, when I swear time froze when we saw each other for the first time that night. And then when you placed me in my AP Euro seat at the beginning of APUSH, when you were seating us alphabetically by last names and when you got to my seat you were still at the ‘Cs’ but you put me there instead, in the front row and the place you lecture in front of the most. All of those moments mean so much to me even though I know they were thoughtless to you.

Secondly, you ignite me. I know I said this earlier, but I am going to repeat myself because I mean it with every fiber of my being. You motivated me again. You were the only reason I kept coming to school when all I wanted to do was quit. It was so easy for me to get away with not coming to school but when I got into your class, I never wanted to leave. I was actually so disappointed every day I missed school because I wouldn’t get to see you that day.

Lastly, I love you. I love you in a way that I want you to succeed with everything in your life. I love you in a way that I want you to always be happy and content. I love you in a way that is so foreign to me because it is completely selfless. If you asked anything of me, I wouldn’t hesitate to do it. That’s a scary thought to know that you have so much power over me. The only reason I can tell you all of this is because I know you won’t abuse it or me.

I wish I had more time with you. I could sit in those stupid, uncomfortable desks 24/7 and listen to you talk about history, politics, whatever else you wanted for the rest of my life and never be satisfied with the amount of time spent with you.

Although we will most likely never talk again after graduation, please remember that I am forever changed by who you are and what you mean to me. You will always be important to me. I will fade from your memory but I want you to know that you will never fade from mine.

that's the end!

i feel like the letter is really all over the place but i think it does a great job reflecting my mindset and emotions when it came to him. i use past tense here because i have been thinking over a few things for a while. i am not going to be updating on this blog anymore and i am closing it down. i know that i've said this before in the past, but i truly do believe that i have lost feelings for alex now. since my last update, i actually saw him quite a bit and i... didn't feel anything? people change and mature and i believe that i have done that. thanks so much for taking the time to read that monstrosity as well as go on this tiring journey with me through the latter half of my high school years. it means a lot.

please remember to stay safe! thanks again!

[writingmyanxietyaway]

Self Protecting | Rio

Requested by anon: Helloo!! Can I ask an imagine of la casa de papel where the reader is part of the heist and she has the name of a famous city (New York maybe?) and Rio or Denver is in love w/ her, but she is really intelligent and quiet and don’t want to have something with him because she doesn’t want to get hurt or something?? Thanks!! xx

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: spoilers of the Money Heist / La Casa De Papel, swearing, fluff Note: not my gif! sorry for possible typo’s!

This took me wayyyy to long, I’m so so sorry!!! I changed the name to Bali, because I feel like it fits more into the story and might be easier to pronounce in Spanish, hope you don’t mind! Hope you enjoy it, love!

Much love, Mer xx 💕

_________

3 months. That’s how long you’ve been stuck with this group of complete criminals. You felt way out of place. You were a criminal, sure, but you did petty crime and no one ever knew about your work. And they wouldn’t ever know about you.

You were a smart kid - being only 20 years old and making you the youngest of them all. You were an outsider, you always have been. You had a fascination for psychology. You knew human beings from the inside and out, without even needing to know them. People were open books, whether they closed themselves off or not. It made you perfect in your criminal forte. Manipulating, finessing and masterminding your way around others around you was your second nature. You made millions of euro’s already, but you never kept any of it. You always donated it to charity or other good causes. It wasn’t criminal money, not in the slightest. You made your money as a conduit. You got hired by certain people who wanted to get something from others, without interfering. You enjoyed it, but it has never been the dream. Your parents didn’t raise you to be a criminal. They taught you to be honest and good to the world around you - which you still are (by donating basically all of your money) - but you were caught up in the criminal world. And once you get in, you never get out. Sadly, your parents passed away in a car accident. They were hit by a drunk truck driver, dying almost instantly after the hit. So you were on your own. And you were managing just fine.

That is until El Professor showed up at your doorstep. He told you the plan, about robbing the Royal Mint of Spain and how much he needed your capacities in the field. He had everything stippled out, sure, but he needed a backup. So you said yes. You had nothing to loose anyway.

So here you were, in the Royal Mint of Spain, trapped like a mouse in a box. You had the winning hand, of course you had, but every single time something went wrong, you regretted your decision. You had been quiet from the beginning, focussed on your goal and not letting you get destracted by anything. The group noticed and the girls knew why, you’d told them when you all stayed at the mansion. You were doing your thing and they were doing theirs.

You were sitting in one of the office rooms, keeping the connection between El Professor and you secured while the others were doing God knows what. Occasionally you heard a gunshot, followed by Nairobi shouting loudly at, most likely, Berlin. They stormed in, Tokio and Rio following suit. Berlin’s face was as calm as if he’d taken a 6 month vacation to the Bahamas, while Nairobi’s face was red with anger as a tomato.

“Why can’t you just stick to the goddamn plan, Berlin?! Huh? You just have to be the macho and show how much ‘power’”, she out airquotes around the word, “you have?! This mission wasn’t about hurting anyone!!” She yelled at the top of her lungs. You clenched your eyes shut and tried to focus on anything else but the yelling.

“Nairobi. Calm down. All will be fine. El Professor gave me instructions and I simply followed,” Berlin told her. That only seemed to anger her more, as she stormed towards him. She was held back by Helsinki.

“Berlin,” you said. No one responded or even looked at you. “Berlin!” You said, but this time louder. All of them snapped their heads towards you. Rio’s head hadn’t moved, which signalled he had already been staring at you. You blushed a little, but continued.

“We were given strict instructions not to hurt anyone. There would be no casualties and no dead men. And look what happened. One man got shot, a woman got shot in her leg because apparently you thought she was a danger when she clearly was not and you are slowly dying too! This isn’t a time to fight or do anything else El Professor told us to do. He has a plan and we made a promise to follow it. Step by step. If you can’t do that, which I think you can’t since you’re clearly too selfish, then you should step outside these doors and let us do the rest. They already know who you are anyway. Now PLEASE, can you all shut up?! Some people are trying to work here.”

They all gawked at you. This had been the most you ever talked since all of you came together. Besides, you stood up against Berlin. No one dared to do that. Not even El Professor.

“Berlin, she’s right,” all heads turned to Rio, who seemed to be scared shitless at this point, “El Professor had everything planned out and now everything has gone to shit because we didn’t follow his orders. From now on we should stick to the plan.”

Berlin raised his eyebrows, surprised at the sudden confidence boost you had apparently given him. From the beginning he knew Rio had a crush on you, but now he knew for sure.

“Rio. Sweet little Rio,” his sinister voice made your skin crawl, “now is not the time to protect your little girlfriend. El Professor also said no personal relationships, remember?” He stepped towards Rio, but was held back by you grabbing his shoulder.

“Enough, Berlin. Go fuck that skank that’s waiting in your office. Might clear your head,” you hissed. You liked Rio. Maybe a little more too. His innocent smile made you fall in love with him since the first time you met him. But you were scared that you’d get hurt.

“My, my.. Bali. This isn’t what we’re used to seeing from you. You got your lady days? I understand that it’s hard, but you have to control your temper. Don’t want to leave with a bullet in your head,” he pointed to the gun that hung in the hollister around his neck.

“Soothes my soul to know you’re not far behind me,” you smirked, completely breaking Berlin’s act to scare you. You weren’t scared easily.

The crowd behind you wow-ed and hissed at your burn and Berlin snarled. He turned around and quickly left the room. Once he was out of ear and eye vision, the room burst of laughter. You couldn’t help but smile at your little victory too. The group congratulated you on your win and left to go to the hostages again, but not Rio. He stayed behind, which his hands awkwardly in his pockets.

“Thanks for defending me back there, Rio,” you sincerely thanked him. He smiled at you and nodded.

“Of course. That’s what friends do, right?” he said, stepping closer to you. You nodded and turned around again, focussing on the computer.

Your heart ached when you heard him say friends, but you knew this couldn’t happen. I’d hurt too much if you lost him. You heard him sigh and sit down next to you. You heart beat heavily in your chest, but you tried to stay calm.

“Listen, Bali.. I know you’ll never think of me that way, but in case all of this goes south I want you to know I like you more as a friend. You’re an incredibly intellegent woman and I-“ you cut him off by holding up your hand.

“Don’t, Rio,” you whispered softly. You lowered your hands again and fiddled eith them in your lap.

“I do too, but we can’t.. not here and not in this situation. I can’t do this. Something might happen to you and I’ll be all alone again and I just can’t handle that heartbreak again. I want us to work, I really do. But not right now. I’m- I’m scared, Rio. And I don’t want anything to happen to you, so we can’t do this.” You stated. You lifted your head to see a soft smile on Rio’s face.

“What, you dork?” You giggled.

“When we get out of here we’re gonna buy an Island and we’ll give the rest to charity and we’ll be together. We’ll make this work, Bali. We can do this. Together.”

[ofnifflersandkings]

Title: Good Day Sunshine

Character: Miles Morales

A/n: Miles is such a good character, but I’m not sure I have him down pact just yet. But I was too eager to write for him that I constructed this, I hope it isn’t too off the mark.

•

Miles leaned against the neighboring lockers next to Ganke’s, his sketchbook propped against the crook of his elbow as he made small drafts for his next sticker design. “Do you remember what the homework questions were for Euro?”

Ganke was about to answer but something caught his eyes and he perked up, shutting his locker door in an instant. “Wait here for a second? I gotta talk to someone real quick.”

Miles looked up from his sketchbook. “Hm? Oh yeah, do whatcha gotta do man.”

Ganke gave him a light pat on the shoulder and jogged further into the hallway. Trying to catch up with said person of interest.

When Miles glanced up again, he saw Ganke reach out to tap someone on the shoulder. They whirled around suddenly, and that’s when Miles got a decent look at you.

Oh no.

You were cute.

You looked at Ganke with a small smile of recognition and Miles blinked a few times to let his brain register.

You reached up take out one of your earbuds so you could listen to Ganke. When the two of you started talking to each other, Miles found himself leaning foward, trying to catch what you were walking about. But you were both out of range.

So instead, Miles not-so-discreetly stared at you. He noticed that your hair was tied up with a scrunchie that was probably the most aggressive shade of yellow he’d ever seen, brighter than sunshine.

Suddenly, you looked over at him and Miles froze up. You definitely caught him staring at you.

‘Just play it cool, Miles.’

He planned to nod his head and act nonchalant, but you beat him to it. So instead, he awkwardly raised his hand to wave with a laugh.

You turned your focus back to Ganke and the two of you finished your conversation. When Ganke went back to Miles, he still felt too awkward to ask about who you were.

•

Later in the day, Ganke offered to let Miles sit at his table for lunch. He led him through the throng of students until they approached a table next to a set of giant windows.

Miles stopped himself short when he saw you sitting there. Your back was facing the two of them, but he could still make out the yellow in your hair.

Ganke, however, took opportunity of the fact that you were distracted. Your earbuds were present again and you were typing furiously on your laptop. He walked up right behind you and grabbed your shoulders.

You spun around and looked up at him. “Ganke!” You ripped out your headphones and hit his arms. “I told you to stop doing that!”

The two of you started to talk again, and Miles shifted his weight between his feet, not knowing how to break into the conversation.

But the two of your gazes met and he froze up again.

“Hey, you’re the kid from the hallway,” You said, turning around in your seat to look at the two boys.

Miles laughed slightly, embarrassed that that encounter had been your first impression of him. So, he smoothly slid into the empty seat next to yours. “Miles Morales, and I’ll definitely remember your name once I hear it.”

“(Y/f/n),” You said, exchanging a hand shake with the boy next to you. “I have to ask though, was Ganke telling the truth when he told me your Dad made you say ‘I love you’ back to him at the main entrance? Cause I 100% thought he was lying.”

Miles stared pointedly at Ganke, who was still standing. He shrugged his shoulders guiltily and offered an apologetic smile.

“What can I say? We were still in our ‘Let’s share a room and mutually agree to just never speak to each other’ phase.”

Miles turned back to you. “You didn’t hear any of it? Felt like the whole school was there to see.”

You shook your head. “Too busy practicing.”

Miles waited for you to elaborate, but the bell rang and you started to pack up all of your stuff.

Still, he felt the need to say something to cover for it and lower how much a complete dork you must have thought he was. That would have severely killed his game. “Let’s just say I really know how to make a first impression.”

You laughed, and all three of you fell into step as all the students began to pour into the hallway.

Miles turned to you again, feeling a small burst of courage as he gave a small smile to Ganke.

“Maybe we can talk more later?”

Just then, a thought ran through your head, and it was simply too spectacular to not follow through with. A small smirk worked its way onto your face and you nodded before starting to walk to Physics.

“That’s a copy.”

Miles eyebrows shot up and if it was in any way possible, he’d have burrowed himself into the ground.

“Now hold on, you told me you didn’t hear any of that!”

However, as soon as you started to laugh, he felt the embarrassment melt away. Instead, he smiled and started to laugh with you.

You stopped walking, turning around to walk up to him. You pulled a pen from your pocket and wrote your number on the back of his hand.

“We’ll talk later then, yeah?”

Miles beamed and gave you a debonair smile Uncle Aaron would’ve been proud of. “Count on it, Sunshine.”

You tilted your head. “Sunshine?”

Miles sputtered. “I-I don’t really know why I said that. Just, ya know, your scrunchie is like really yellow. So I thought I’d put two and two together.”

You snorted and shook your head. “I like it. I’ll see you guys later. It was nice meeting you, Miles.”

He waved, turning his gaze to see Ganke giving him a mischievous look. When their eyes met, he wiggled his eyes suggestively.

Miles dropped his hand and immediately nudged Ganke with his shoulder. “Shut up.”

[jennamustafa267]

Creative Non-Fiction 1st Draft

Jenna Mustafa 

English 267

Professor Reiter

Creative Nonfiction 

February 10, 2020

                      Secrets Of The CobbleStone Streets 

   In the summer of July 2016, I took a rather interesting trip to Italy with my grandma (Tata), my Uncle, my Aunt, two baby cousins and my uncles’ mother in law. We traveled to three different places. First Venice, then Florence, then Rome. Out of three Florence was my favorite. The days would get pretty hectic trying to balance out two grandmas and two children. Regardless it was still a trip that I cherish deeply. 

   One night, in particular, my aunt and uncle went out to dinner and left the kids with me and their grandmas. However, my grandma and I did NOT feel like being confined to the hotel to stay and babysit. We were in freaking Florence for crying out loud! As evil as it may sound, my grandma and I conceived a plan to pretend that I- was the one that wanted to go out but my “Grandma didn’t want me to go alone.” So, we made sure Carla (My aunts’ mom) was all set with the kids and we left to venture out. We did not tell my uncle that we were leaving simply because he would have told us “No.” Yes, I know what you're thinking “How can a son tell his mother she can't do something?” Well, he would have just been worried about us being alone in a foreign atmosphere alone at night. Which makes sense...we did it anyways. 

   Our hotel was right next to the long, calm, glistening Arno river. The night was that perfect cool after a hot summer day, you're not really sweating but there is no breeze. The streets were anything but quiet. Every corner had a musician, every restaurant had a couple, and every street flourished with tourists. My grandma and I are two of them. Stopping at every storefront to admire the merchandise inside like the jewelry made out of Murano glass, vintage clocks or your classic “I LOVE ITALY” sweatshirts. There was a violinist playing his own rendition of an American classic “Sweet Caroline” by Neil Diamond. We stopped to watch some street performers dancing to an unfamiliar Italian hip hop song. We stopped to watch them for a minute and gave them a few Euros to respect their grind and display our appreciation.  

   To be completely honest, there was very little conversation exchanged between me and my grandma. We were just taking everything in while we could. We walked at a slow pace, arm in arm. It wasn’t until I asked her to tell me stories, that we could not stop talking. She shared with my things my mother used to do when she was my age, like how she would impersonate Steve Urcle or play as The Little Mermaid in the pool. We shared laughs over the memories we had when she used to visit me when I was younger and I acted like a complete brat. She told me how one time she wanted to sleep in my bed but I put up the biggest fit and refused to give up my bed for anyone. My grandma also explained some Islamic teachings to me and made certain situations easier to understand. Such as stories about Prophets and their wives. The feel of the cobblestone streets made it fun to walk slower. Something about the round feeling on your feet is so satisfying. 

   We walked past this gelato place, the gelato in Italy was the richest, sweetest, creamiest and dreamiest gelato in the world. But for some reason I did not want it nor did my grandma. Instead, I treated us both to a cup of fresh, juicy watermelon. Nothing like the fruit back home in America. Everything in Italy seemed better. The food is more organic and flavorful. The people are calmer than New York. No one was rushing or shoving you. They all just mind their own business and go about their day. 

   That night I realized how truly strong-spirited, faithful and exceptional my grandmother is. She is my ultimate role model and how badly I hope to grow to be just like her. Tata’s knees started hurting her (which was typical due to her age) so we snapped some pictures and took a rest sitting on a bridge above the Arno river. There were a few people also sitting on the bridge. This one lady next to us noticed our hijabs (Headscarf) and asked us where we were from. When we told her Palestine, she excitedly told us she was from there too. Her name was Salam and she was with her husband, they both are from a town right next to ours in Palestine called Beit Hanina, and lived in Brooklyn. It was the strangest thing. All four of us agreed that the world was extremely small. The fact that we never ran into each other in New York, yet we so happened to be sitting on a bridge at the same time in Italy. We let them go on their way, being that they were on their honeymoon and wanted to enjoy each other's company. 

   There was a small moment of silence as I pondered about how strange things (like meeting that couple) happen and how it was all meant to be. And it drew me back to how this moment of being alone with my grandma in Europe was meant to be and how it will most likely never happen again. This is an opportunity to just have a deep conversation with her and speak to her about anything I wanted to know, 

   “Tata, how were you able to handle the grief of momma?” I asked her with apprehension not wanting to make her upset. My mother passed away in August 2015; it would only be a year. We were on our way back home from Palestine and she had a stroke on the plane. She was only 43 years old, and it was completely unexpected. Everytime someone would try to talk to me, I would never listen. My grandma was the one my mother always went to, so I felt it fitting to ask her, even if I was weary that it would make her upset. But to my surprise she answered,  

   “When you have a strong trust in Allah (God)  plans, you will understand that this was always meant to happen. He will not give us anything that we can not endure. You must have patience and trust to be able to get through anything. Thank Allah for everything.”  I looked at her completely in awe. There were no tears building up in her eyes or even a crack in her voice. And this was a woman who was talking about her own daughters’ death. It is her faith that is helping her push through this. I, however, could not respond. I knew if I spoke it would just drown in tears. The lump in my throat was too large to let anything out. 

   She continued, “You know, she was too good for this world. We did not deserve her. She’s right where she belongs now. And one day we will all be reunited.” she continued. When she said “We will be reunited” it really made me think that I need to remain the proper Muslim girl that my mother would want me to be. 

  I just admired her as she spoke and gave her a big hug. She was right. Completely and truly right. It put everything in perspective for me. It made the anger I had built up after losing my mother disappear. It made the world make sense again. My grandma had an answer for everything. No wonder my mom was as perfect as she was. She had a great mother to look up too. And how lucky am I to have these two women in my life. 

   “This means so much to me,” I expressed to Tata, “You are so strong and so brave to be able to handle all of this and I love you.” I gave her a kiss on the cheek, “I love you too” she said. 

   When I first lost my mother I didn’t quite understand why it happened or how I would ever be able to get over. The entire trip me and my uncle (My moms’ brother)  were talking about how much she would have loved Italy. Everything from the chic boutiques to the savory pasta. Nonetheless, we were together enjoying it for her and to honor her. My mother was the perfect daughter and sister. The majority of my upbringing, I was surrounded by my father’s family. My maternal aunts and uncles all lived in different states and my grandparents lived in Jordan. The only times we got together were only for short periods of time during family weddings.  It was refreshing to be able to spend some time with them as they continued to tell me stories and little things about my mom as we toured the city. 

   We watched the amber color river flow. At that moment I knew this was going to be a night I’d never forget. Tata started to tell me about how she grew up. Living in Palestine at the start of the war was a very disquieting time for her. She explained to me how she practically had to escape from her home and keep moving from village to village in Palestine until she reached a place where the Isreali army would not be able to harm her and her family anymore. She even explained to me that she lost her newborn baby sister on the way.  Yet another thing that is so admirable about her. Before we knew it the streets slowly became more quiet and less busy. After we both yawned, we hugged again and made our way back to the hotel, right before my uncle came back.  

   Overall we should all learn to appreciate our family while they are around. I understood my whole family was hurting after the passing of my mother, but I was so worried about everyone else I forgot to try and deal with the grief myself. People would just talk to me and it would go in one ear and out the other. I was too busy thinking about if my brothers and my father are okay. I’m so beyond grateful to have had this walk with my grandma and for her to have been able to explain to me her grief. But it had to take us venturing off on our own to fully connect and help me grieve better. 

[80srockher]

Yuri on Ice Rewatch and Live-Commentary, Episode 1: Easy as Pirozhki!! The Grand Prix Final of Tears

*There are spoilers throughout.  I also make assumptions that anyone reading has already seen the episode or has a grasp of the content.*

Source: http://yurionicescreencaps.tumblr.com

The opening scene is so pretty.  Really sets a tone.  I went in knowing nothing about the anime first go-around, so I found Yuri and Victor’s grow/glow-ups montages interesting.  

This theme song is… not my favorite.  Maybe it’s the French horns?  That and too much synth.  I usually skip over it but want to give it a chance this go-around.

Heh, Victor and his gold blades to match his gold medal.  And his European af haircut.  Can’t remember the last time I saw an American past the age of 12 with bangs. No mistaking him for anything other than Eastern European.

Also, the poster on the left is for Victor, I believe.  Can he pull his leg that high in the air?  Was that featured and I forgot?  I’ll be on the lookout for it.

Also, looks like Jean JACK made it to Sochi and placed third here too, lolz.

Yes, please listen to your coach, Yuri.  Don’t poke the wound.  Stay off the internets.  ESPECIALLY the figure skating internets.  What little I remember from when I used to follow the sport is that it’s dramatic, to put it nicely.

I keep getting distracted by the utter Euro-ness of the Europeans in this show. The cut of Coach Celestino’s suit is so Italian I weep. He’s too smooth.

Yuri’s name tag has his name in Cyrillic as well?  Cute.

My first impression of Yuri was that he looks about 18 and that impression hasn’t changed.  Perhaps it’s the glasses, but he def looks youthful. I’m also someone who’s been accused of looking a decade+ younger than I actually am, so I can sympathize.

Speaking of sympathy – Yuri caved to pressure, binged ate before the competition while mourning his dog, then bombed his first trip to the Grand Prix final.  All in front of his idol.  Damnity damn damn.  Sorry, kid.

Is Cao Bin ever introduced on the show?  Something else I forgot, maybe?

Now, when I first saw this poor child crying in the bathroom, that’s when I knew the series was going to be much different from the light-hearted anime about figure skating I expected.  It got real deep real quick.

Yuri Plisetsky “The Russian Punk”.  Is this something the in-universe media refers to him as?  Because I only recall (JPN) Yuri saying it and only this once.

This screencap is during the scene where the journalist Marooka (sp?) is hassling Yuri about his future plans and instead of answering, Yuri can only stare at someone else’s puppy that reminds him of his dead Vicchan.

This baby is crying. Cry.ing.  This has been a tough day for poor Yuri, overall.

And he talks down to himself so much.  It’s all his fault he caved to pressure. He was an idiot to think he could meet his idol on the same playing field.   He’s come so far and still thinks so little of his accomplishments.

So, I understand this “one year later” is not really accurate, lol.  It’s just the new  year following the previous season.  I was confused initially about a number of soon-to-happen events before Yuri’s mental alter ego cleared it up.

So, per Minako’s voice actress, Yuri really is pronounced YOO-RI.  Cute.

Four Continents is… not a Grand Prix competition?  My figure skating knowledge is all rust now.

LOL, Minako does. Not. Play. And she wears a pinky ring.  My God, that death grip on poor Yuri.

It’s snowing outside the train station when Yuri and Minako leave.  So, it’s not unusual to snow in this region in March, but it’s highly unusual a month or so later. Man, hard to believe Yuri sat around for almost an entire month before the infamous video became viral.  More on that, later.

So, based on everyone’s interactions with Yuri so far, the only person who cares that he didn’t make it to the World Championships is him.  And he should care since he’s worked basically his entire life towards that goal.  But, he doesn’t appear to have let anyone down but himself, though he doesn’t act that way.

So, the fact that the family hot springs is named “Yu-topia”… did that influence Yuri’s name at all, I wonder?

Ha!  I wish I could have recorded the Japanese actor’s voice when he says this line.  He makes Yuri sound so done with it all, lol.  It’s the best.

Ok, so a number of very interesting and entertaining things happen in succession that I don’t feel like screencapping.  No hug between the littlest Katsuki and the senior Katsukis, even though he hasn’t been home in 5 years.  Fascinating. No doubt cultural (I’m guessing) but fascinating.  

Yuri’s mom basically calls Minako a drunk.  To her face. LOL.  But I imagine no one can get mad at this sweet lady.

Minako calls Yuri out on his weight gain in front of God and everybody.  Though, I think it’s more of a matter of his clothes no longer fitting due to said weight gain.  

But, his parents don’t care. Eat more pork cutlet bowls, Yuri! Welcome home!

Vicchan’s shrine is where they also store the unused treadmill.  Want to bet the only person to use it was Yuri?

Then older sis Mari-neechan appears with frosted tips.  I can appreciate a character that doesn’t beat around the bush (a trait she inherited from her mother, I imagine).  Welcome home, Yuri, but don’t sit on your ass.  Start thinking about your next move.    

Actually *loads headcanon* I suspect Mari doesn’t want Yuri to give up on skating.  The longer he stays at home, the more quitting becomes a possibility.

So, the Katsuki family hot springs resort (Inn?  Restaurant?) is the last one standing in town.  Very OT, but I wonder if the hot springs are still an attraction at all and are perhaps, government-owned?  Protected, used by tourists for a fee, perhaps?  I think about things like that.

Having never visited a hot spring, and based on the setting around Minako while she watches the World Championships on TV, it appears to be a place for people to come, soak, and lounge and grab a bite to eat if the mood strikes.  So, the Katsukis wait on people basically all day long.  Gotta be exhausting work.

Yuuuuuko!  The Madonna of Ice Castle Hasetsu!  Yuri’s crush on her is hella cute.

A slight segue to Yuri’s perceived attraction to Yuko and what it could imply about his sexual identity.  Per his labeling of Yuko as a “Madonna,” I figure Yuri considers Yuko untouchable, perhaps even “too good” for him.  Yuko, just like Victor, is “ideal”.  For someone as self-conscious as Yuri, comparing any romantic prospects against his two ideals was probably a convenient excuse not to get *too* close to anyone, male or female.  That being said, he didn’t pursue Yuko.  Alcohol loosened enough of Yuri’s inhibitions to eventually openly flirt with Victor, but this is still an important distinction, IMO.  He pursued one of his ideals (in more ways than one, even going so far as to leave home to in hopes of becoming Victor’s equal) and left the other one behind.

Yuri idealizes/d Yuko, and comes to love Victor.  He’s gay.  Bi, at the least.  

I don’t feel confident in applying any other labels, because I’m a straight.  Yuri could fall under any number of categories as long it they include, IMO, same-sex attraction.

In actuality, Yuko is “introduced” to the audience as Yuri’s straight love interest, but that doesn’t last long.  Cute and clever, show creators.  Cute. And . Clever.

Then we find out, via flashback, a) how adorable they all were when they were little kids and b) Yuko wanted to see Yuri compete against Victor.  Yuko has been a profound influence on Yuri.

So, Victor.  This guy is in a class by himself.  The animators obviously invested a lot of time in his movements.  You can see why he leads the field even at 27.

Also, the creators had the nerve, the audacity, the unmitigated gall to compose an original opera aria for a cartoon.  That was my next indicator that this was more than a cutesy figure skating anime.  

The song really is beautiful, too.  Probably my favorite in the soundtrack.

Who’s the last IRL skater to win 5 consecutive World Championships?  Michelle Kwan, maybe?  Who is Kwan’s male equivalent?  Back then, probably Alexei Yagudin?  May research. May not. 

Anyway, Victor is the Michelle Kwan of YOI-verse lol.

Hmm.  Here come the three brats.  Good God.  Poor Yuko and Takeshi lol.

So sweet to see Yuri’s childhood bully is his biggest fan now.

Sooo, Yuko’s triplets secretly record Yuri’s private performance, post it online (sometime before April 10, when Victor shows up), and things progress rather quickly from there...

Or do they?  It appeared to me that Yuri caught up with Yuko at the rink the same day he returned home.  Did he skate Victor’s routine for her that day, as well, or did it happen later?  Perhaps the triplets waited a few weeks to post the video, or else it took a few weeks to go viral.  Did Yuri turn off his phone for *weeks* to avoid the world?

Maybe he got home on March 30 and then the whole month of April just went to hell for him?  The possibilities...

LOL, I’m so SO mad the title of the video is “Katsuki Yuri TRIED to Skate Victor’s FS Program”. Those brats.

This might be the most unattractive Victor’s ever looked.  Severe close-ups aren’t flattering on anyone.  Welp, down the rabbit hole now.  

So, in the next scene it snows in April which doesn’t stop anyone from stripping naked to bathe in a hot spring, apparently.  Or it just doesn’t stop Victor.

#moneyshot

I like this ending theme much better.  It’s a head-bopper.  The Instagram reel kills me.  

Thanks to anyone who took the time to read through this stream of consciousness!  No idea how long it may take me to get through the rest.  I tip my hat to those who regularly and passionately participate in fandom.  It’s a lot of work!

[delicatelythoughtfulpatrol]

How Pop Music’s Teenage Dream Ended

A decade ago, Katy Perry’s sound was ubiquitous. Today, it’s niche. How did a genre defined by popularity become unpopular?

Story by Spencer Kornhaber

“I am a walking cartoon most days,” Katy Perry told Billboard in 2010, and anyone who lived through the reign of Teenage Dream—Perry’s smash album that turned 10 years old on August 24—knows what she meant. Everywhere you looked or clicked back then, there was Perry, wrapped in candy-cane stripes, firing whipped cream from her breasts, wearing a toothpaste-blue wig, and grinning like an emoji. She titled one world tour “Hello Katy,” a nod to the Japanese cat character on gel pens worldwide. She made her voice-acting debut, in 2011, by playing Smurfette.

Perry’s music was cartoonish too: simple, silly, with lyrics stringing together caricature-like images of high-school parties, seductive aliens, and girls in Daisy Dukes with bikinis on top. Kids loved the stuff, and adults, bopping along at karaoke or Starbucks, enjoyed it too. (Maybe that’s because, like with so much classic Disney and Looney Tunes animation, the cuteness barely disguised a ton of raunch.) Teenage Dream generated five No. 1 singles in the United States—a feat previously accomplished only by Michael Jackson’s Bad—and it went platinum eight times.

Perry wasn’t alone in achieving domination through colorful looks and stomping songs. Teenage Dream arrived amid a wave of female pop singers selling their own costumed fictions: Lady Gaga, a walking Gaudí cathedral, roared EDM operas. Beyoncé shimmied in the guise of her alter ego, Sasha Fierce. Nicki Minaj flipped through personalities while wearing anime silhouettes and fuchsia patterns. Kesha, glitter-strewn and studded, babbled her battle cries. Taylor Swift trundled around in horse-drawn carriages. Each singer achieved impressive things, though arguably none of their albums so purely epitomized pop—in commercial, aesthetic, or sociological terms—like Perry’s Teenage Dream did.

A decade later, that early-2010s fantasy has ended, and Perry and her peers have seemed to switch gears. Rihanna has put her music career on pause while building a fashion and makeup empire. Beyoncé has turned her focus to richly textured visual albums that don’t necessarily spawn monster singles. Gaga, after a long detour away from dance floors, has returned to sounds and looks comparable to those of her early days, but she cannot bank on mass listenership for doing so. Swift keeps reinventing herself with greater seriousness, and little about her latest best seller, Folklore, scans as pop. Perry’s latest album, Smile, came out Friday. Regarding her new music’s likelihood of world domination, Perry told Apple Music’s Zane Lowe, “My expectations are very managed right now.”

For the younger class of today’s stars, Teenage Dream seems like a faint influence. The Billboard Hot 100 is largely the terrain of raunchy rap, political rap, and emo rap, with a smattering of country drinking songs thrown in. Ultra-hummable singers such as Halsey and Billie Eilish are still on the radio, but they cut their catchiness with a sad, sleepy edge. A light disco resurgence may be brewing—BTS just strutted to No. 1 on the American charts while capitalizing on it—but that doesn’t change the overall mood of the moment. Almost nothing creates the sucrose high of Teenage Dream; almost nothing sounds as if Smurfette might sing it.

The recent state of commercial music has led to much commentary arguing that pop is dying, dead, or dormant. That’s a funny concept to consider—isn’t popular music, definitionally, whatever’s popular? In one sense, yes. But pop also refers to a compositional tradition, one with go-to chords, structures, and tropes. This type of pop prizes easily enjoyed melodies and sentiments; it moves but does not challenge the hips and the feet. It is omnivorous, and will spangle itself with elements of rock, rap, country, or whatever else it wants without losing its essential pop-ness. 

The early-2010s strain of it seemed like the height of irresistibility, and yet it’s mostly faded away. There are many reasons for that, but they can all be reduced to what Perry’s journey over the past decade has shown: Life and listening have become too complex for 2-D.

Pop has seemed to die and be reborn many times. When the 21st century arrived, the music industry was near the historical peak of its profitability—in part because of slick sing-alongs catering to teenagers and written by grown-up Swedes.

 But over the first few years of the 2000s, CD sales crashed thanks to the internet, boy bands such as ’NSync began to splinter, and Britney Spears’s long-running confrontation with the paparazzi reached an ugly culmination. 

Around the same time, women such as Pink, Kelly Clarkson, Ashlee Simpson, and Avril Lavigne began scoring hits inspired by mosh pits but more appropriate for malls. Gwen Stefani moved from rock-band frontwoman to dance-floor diva during this period as well. Such performers, though often assisted by the same producers and songwriters who helped mold Spears, flaunted unruly personalities to a reality-TV-guzzling public hungry for a kind of curated grit.

Katy Perry capped off this rock-pop boomlet. The California-born Katheryn Hudson had kicked around the music industry for years, first as a Christian singer—her parents were traveling evangelists—and then as an Alanis Morissette–worshipping songwriter.

She finally hit on a winning combo of sounds for One of the Boys, her delicious 2008 major-label debut, whose spiky rhythms, crunching guitars, sneering vocals, and juvenile gender politics earned her a spot on the Warped Tour, a punk institution. But the gooey, sassy hooks of “I Kissed a Girl,” “Waking Up in Vegas,” and “Hot n Cold” really made her a household name. 

Some of those songs benefited from the touch of Max Martin and Dr. Luke, songwriters-slash-producers of 2000s pop legend. (In 2014, Kesha filed a lawsuit accusing Dr. Luke, her producer and manager, of rape and abuse; he denied her claims and eventually prevailed in a years-long, very-public court battle over Kesha’s record contract.)

By late 2009, when Perry set out to record her follow-up to One of the Boys, the musical landscape had shifted again thanks to the arrival of Lady Gaga, a former cabaret singer with mystique-infused visuals and an electro-dance sound. What made Gaga different was not only her thundering Euro-club beats, but also her persona, or lack thereof. 

Gaga’s work overflowed with camp fun while keeping the singer’s true nature hidden under outrageous headpieces. By forgoing any attempts at banal relatability, Gaga seemed deep. In this way, she updated the glam antics of Prince, Madonna, and David Bowie for the YouTube era. Many of her peers took note, including Perry. 

Teenage Dream was lighter and happier than anything Gaga did, but it was electronic and fanciful in a manner that Perry’s previous work had not been. The cartoon Perry was born.

The conceit of Teenage Dream’s title track—“you make me feel like I’m living a teenage dream”—really boils down pop’s appeal to its essence: indulging a preposterous rush while also reveling in its preposterousness. “It is Perry’s self-consciousness—her awareness of herself as a complete package—that makes her interesting,” went one line in an NPR rave about the album. Even skeptical reviewers gave credit to standout singles such as “California Gurls” and “Firework” for being effective earworms. Perry had laid out her intended sound by sending a mixtape of the Cardigans and ABBA to Dr. Luke, who was part of a production team that pushed for perfection. 

“People on the management side and label side were pretty much telling me that we were done, before we had ‘Teenage Dream’ or ‘California Gurls,’” Luke told Billboard in 2010. “And I said, ‘No, we’re not done.’”

Such efforts ensured Teenage Dream’s incredible staying power on the charts through early 2012. The album’s deluxe reissue that year then generated a sixth No. 1 single, “Part of Me,” which also provided the title of a self-produced documentary that Perry released around the same time. Much of the footage showcases the stagecraft behind her 2011–12 world tour, a pageant of dancing gingerbread men and poofy pink clouds that would presage her hallucinatory 2015 Super Bowl halftime show. Perry comes off as charming and willful, and the film currently sits as the 11th-highest-grossing documentary in U.S. box-office history.

Yet the movie is best remembered today not for the way it shored up Perry’s shiny image, but for the way it complicated it. Over the course of the tour, Perry’s marriage to the comedian Russell Brand dissolved, and the cameras captured her sobbing just before getting on stage in São Paulo. It’s a wrenching, now-legendary scene. But elsewhere in the film, the viewer can’t help but experience cognitive dissonance as the singer’s personal dramas are synced up to concert footage of grin-inducing costumes and schoolyard sing-alongs. By hitching Teenage Dream’s whimsy to real-life struggle, the movie seemed to subvert exactly what had made the album successful: the feeling that Perry’s music was made to escape, not amplify, one’s problems.

Perry released her next album in 2013, a year that now seems pivotal in mainstream music’s trajectory. That’s the year Gaga pushed her meta-superficial shtick until it broke on the bombastic Artpop, which earned mixed reviews and soft sales.

 It’s also the year Lorde, a New Zealand teenager whose confessional lyrics and glum sonic sensibility would be copied for the rest of the decade, released her debut. Then in December, Beyoncé surprise-dropped a self-titled album whose opening track, “Pretty Hurts,” convincingly critiqued the way society asks women to construct beauty-pageant versions of themselves.

Later on the album, Beyoncé sang in shockingly explicit detail about her marriage to Jay-Z. Tropes of drunken hookups, simmering jealousy, and near-breakups were reinvigorated as specific and biographical, thanks in part to Beyoncé’s fluency with rap’s and R&B’s storytelling methods. She ended up seeming more glamorous than ever for the appearance of honesty.

The title of Perry’s album, Prism, not-so-subtly advertised her trying, too, to show more dimension. But the songs’ greeting-card empowerment messages, hokey spirituality, and awkward genre hopping made it seem as if Perry had simply changed costumes rather than had a true breakthrough. 

Still, both the cliché-parade of “Roar” and the trap-appropriating “Dark Horse” hit No. 1., and Prism’s track list includes a few examples of expert, big-budget songcraft. 

The album would turn out to be Perry’s last outing with a key collaborator, Dr. Luke. While she has maintained that she’s had only positive experiences with the producer, Perry hasn’t recorded a song with him since Kesha filed her 2014 lawsuit.

The Kesha-versus-Luke chapter added to a brewing sense that the carefree pop of the early 2010s was built on dark realities: Perry and Gaga have both described their most profitable years as personally torturous. Broader social and political developments—Black Lives Matter, the #MeToo movement, and the election of Donald Trump—also proved impossible to ignore for even the most frivolous-seeming entertainers. 

“When I first came out, we were living in a different mindset in the world,” Perry said in a recent Rolling Stone interview. “We were flying high off of, like, life. We weren’t struggling like we are. 

There wasn’t so much of a divide. All of the inequality was kind of underneath the mat. It was unspoken. It wasn’t facing us. And now it’s really facing us. I just feel like I can’t just put an escapist record out: Like, let’s go to Disneyland in our mind for 45 minutes.”

If that point of view sounds blinkered by privilege—who wasn’t struggling before, Katy?—Perry probably wouldn’t disagree. Her 2017 album, Witness, arrived with a blitz of publicity about how the star had become politically awakened and had decided to strip back her Katy Perry character to show more of the real Katheryn Hudson. A multiday live-stream in which fans watched her sleep, wake up, have fun, and go to therapy certainly conveyed that she didn’t want to seem like a posterized picture anymore. 

Yet neither Witness’s attempts at light sloganeering (the anti-apathy “Chained to the Rhythm”) nor its sillier side (the charmingly odd “Swish Swish”) 

connected with the public. It’s hard to say whether the problem was more temperamental or technological: By 2017, streaming had fully upended the radio-centric monoculture that stars like Perry once thrived in.

Her new album, Smile, is an explicit reaction to the commercial and critical disappointment of the Witness phase. Over jaunty arrangements, song after song talks about perking up after, per Smile’s title track, an “ego check.” There are also clear nods to her personal life. “Never Really Over” ruminates on a dead-then-revived relationship much like the one she has had with Orlando Bloom. “What Makes a Woman,” Perry has said, is a letter to her daughter, who was born on Wednesday. But she’s still mostly communicating in generic terms—lyrics depict flowers growing through pavement and frowns turned around—and with interchangeable songs. The explosive optimism of Teenage Dream has been replaced by ambivalence and resolve, yet the musical mode hasn’t really changed to match.

This leaves Perry tending to longtime fans but unlikely to mint many new ones. That’s because pure pop, the kind that thrives on doing simplicity really well, is largely a niche art form now. The delightful Carly Rae Jepsen will still sell out venues despite not having had a true hit in years. Today’s most acclaimed indie acts include the likes of 100 Gecs and Sophie, who create parodic, deadpan pastiches of pop clichés. Fixtures such as Lady Gaga do still have enough heft to ripple the charts (and thank God—her sense of spectacle saved the VMAs on Sunday). But her recent No. 1 single, “Rain on Me,” benefited from Ariana Grande, whose ongoing success comes from smartly channeling R&B. 

The current status of Dr. Luke, who has retreated from the public eye but still works with lesser-known talents and while using pseudonyms, seems telling too. He can’t land a hit with Kim Petras, a dance diva in the Katy Perry lineage. But he can land a hit with a rapper: He’s behind Doja Cat’s recent smash “Say So.”

Streaming, now the dominant form of music consumption, does not reward bright and insistent sing-alongs that demand attention but offer little depth. It instead works well for vibey background music, like the kind made by Post Malone, who’s maybe the most cartoonish figure of the present zeitgeist. It also works well for hip-hop with an obsession-worthy interplay of slangy lyrics, syncopated rhythms, and complex personas, all of which are presented in a context that feels like it has something to do with real life. 

Last week’s No. 1 song in the country, “WAP,” by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion, radiates some of the fantastical thrill of the 2010 charts. But it delivers that thrill as part of a lewd verbal onslaught by women whom the public has come to know on an alarmingly personal level. The video for “WAP” is bright and pink, yes, but also immersive. 

It’s not a cartoon—it’s virtual reality.

[izzy-b-hands]

So this is an older piece that I was hemming and hawing over posting (I wrote it months back when I first started writing Dethklok fanfic again, so I’m a bit nervous about quality lol.) Finally decided that I like it enough to put it out there, though I worry I fucked up the timeline? Apologies if I did!

Set sometime before the ep where Pickles finally tells his mom to go fuck herself. 

The guys get sick of her calls (after Pickles stops answering) and take their own turn at creatively telling her to fuck off. 

This was therapeutic to write, and that’s all I will say about that.

Skwisgaar’s dethphone rang, discordant over his guitar. He didn’t recognize the number, but picked up. It might be a groupie eager to visit his bed, after all.

“Hellos, this ams Skwisgaar. What do yous wants?” 

“Why won’t Pickles answer my phone calls? I’m his mahm!” Molly shouted so loud he couldn’t keep the phone to his ear. 

He put it on speaker and resumed playing. Maybe if he just let her shout without response, she would hang up. 

“I mean, I need to talk to him, and he won’t answer! You would answer if Serveta called, I’m sure,” she continued. 

That hit a nerve. “Actuallys, I would nots. I don’t have any wants or needs to talks to her.” 

“Oh, so you’re the bad influence on him then!” Molly screamed so loud the speaker crackled. 

He sighed. “Pickles ams busy. I cannot helps yous, so I’m going to hangs up now,” 

“No! You give him a message from me to him, now write this down,” Molly shouted. “Pickles--” 

“Shouldn’t have to puts up with this shits! Leaves him alone, leaves mes alone, how the fucks did you even get my number?” Skwisgaar shouted back. 

“Well, I will be telling Serveta about this little outburst. She didn’t raise you this way, I’m sure,” Molly said. 

“She didn’ts barely raise mes at all; you needs to shuts up and,” he was out of breath, gripping his guitar so hard he swore he heard the neck crack. “And stops callings Pickles! He ams happiers without yous!” 

That shut her up. There was a shocked gasp, then the click of her finally hanging up. 

He played till his fingers bled that night. How Pickles hadn’t told his mother to fuck off yet, he didn’t know--but he might call Serveta and tell her to fuck off. 

Toki liked getting phone calls. Sometimes it was just a wrong number, but then he could talk to new people, tell them all about the models he was working on or if Skwisgaar was being a dick. They usually hung up too quickly to hear much, but he didn’t mind. 

He didn’t like this phone call, however. 

“Hello sweetie. Can you get Pickles for me? He won’t pick up his phone,” Molly’s voice was sickly sweet, it made him feel like he was getting a stomachache. 

“I really can’ts, I’m sorrys,” he said. Pickles would kill him if Toki bothered him over a phone call from his mother. 

“Oh, I see how it is then. You and that...that...I don’t know where he’s from and I don’t care. You’re all bad for Pickles--he’d answer me otherwise!” Molly screeched. 

“Do yous means Skwisgaar? Why’d you calls him firsts?” Toki said. Why did Skwisgaar always have to be first, even for awful bullshit like this?

“Yes! He was very rude, and he should know I’ll be telling Serveta!” Molly said. 

“Oh. I don’t thinks she’ll cares, but okays. He ams from Swedens, by the ways,” Toki said. 

“Euro-trash; I should have known! But you’re different, aren’t you dear? Now, I know you said you can’t get Pickles, but couldn’t you try? You wouldn’t want me to tell Anja about this, would you?” Molly said, her voice back to that disgusting sweetness. 

In earlier years, Toki could admit he might have been swayed. But now this was just irritating--he didn’t want to upset Pickles, and he spent everyday with Pickles, not his mother. Let her and Molly be upset. 

I’m from Norways, so I ams also ‘Euro-trashs’ I guess. And I’m not gettings Pickle for you, so stops askings!” Toki cried. 

Molly yelled something indistinguishable, and Toki hung up. His parents were their own level of awful, yet he couldn’t imagine having grown up with Molly as a mother--did she do anything but screech and demand things? 

“No,” Nathan growled. Molly hadn’t even spoken yet, and she didn’t need to. He knew what she wanted, and he didn’t give a fuck. Fuck her. 

He heard her take a breath. “No, I said no. Do not fucking say a word to me. You are making me waste my breath on this, and I hate you for that. Leave us alone. I know you called Skwisgaar and Toki--don’t fucking do that.” 

“Well, young man I’ll just--” Molly said. 

“No,” Nathan said as he hung up. Pickles was his friend, but fuck the guy’s mom. The fuck was her problem. 

Murderface knew he shouldn’t pick up his phone. Nathan had warned him and for once it actually seemed like a good idea to listen to him. 

He probably shouldn’t have listened to the voicemail, but he did anyway. 

“And your boy won’t even pick up! Nonsense, is what this is. William, I know you’re gonna listen to this, so listen closely! Get me Pickles; I don’t care if you have to force him to call me, make him!” Molly shrieked. 

He looked at his phone, then dropped it into the tank that held his latest pet piranha. He’d been wanting a new dethphone anyway (not that the model ever really changed--they just added or subtracted spikes at random, but still.) 

It was Nathan who gathered them to confront Pickles. 

“I hate this. So much. Your mother is...awful, the worst, but we have to do something. We can’t just keep getting new phones,” Nathan said. 

“Why not? I mean, that’s what we usually do, just like whenever we want so--” Pickles protested. It was weak protest though--his phone was still ringing, and hadn’t stopped for more than a few seconds for the past week. Laying there drunk on the couch was the only activity that allowed him to ignore the ringing. 

“That ams a good point,” Toki admitted. “But I means...someones keeps giving hers our numbers.” 

“Charles found out which klokateer it was. He had him killed but like, my mom emails them all the time to ask about new phone numbers and shit like that. She has this whole email tree thing or something, it sucks,” Nathan grumbled. It really did. It wasn’t metal to have a fucking email list, even if it was just for the band’s family members. 

“If I could make a suggestion?” Charles asked, pushing Pickles gently further down the couch so he could sit down. “Have you told her to go fuck herself?” 

Pickles groaned and reached for a bottle, then groaned louder when he saw it was empty. “I...look--” 

“Fine, I had a feeling you might not be ready for that. I have another idea, but it will require some acting from you all,” Charles said, steepling his hands. 

“Uh, you saw our movie...” Nathan said. The rest of the band nodded shamefully. They didn’t really talk about Blood Ocean anymore, if they could help it. 

“It doesn’t have to be good. In fact, the cheesier the better,” Charles said. 

He led them to the top of Mordhaus, and pulled out his own dethphone after scribbling lines on their hands with a pen. “Just recite everything I wrote down. If I’m correct, this should free you from any phone calls from your mothers for the next six months at least.” 

He turned on the video feature, and motioned for them to start. 

“Uh, I sure am tired of always being attached to my phone,” Nathan said stiffly. “I hate how it keeps me from being with the people around me.” 

“Yes, it ams sads we don’t pays enoughs attention to each others; we ams always on our phones,” Skwisgaar added, reading very visibly off the palm of his hand. 

“Yeah, so we gots to get rids of our phones, at least for a little bits,” Toki said, smiling so widely and fakely it made Charles shudder. The kid could really look like a serial killer when he wanted to--it was a horrifyingly good quality to have in this business, and Toki didn’t even know it. 

“There!” Murderface shouted, and tossed his phone into the air. “Now, I’m free to be with the people that I caresh about. My band isch more important than text meschages.” 

The rest of the boys followed suit, with Pickles offering the wave to camera just as Charles had instructed. 

He finished the video, and sent it quickly to all of the boys’ mothers. The atmosphere of the time had women their age hating technology and how it occupied their children, adult or not. Sure, eventually the women would want to contact their sons again, but first they’d be proud of this, to have proof of their boys being so responsible. They’d show it off to friends, and wouldn’t think till much later as to how they’d contact the boys.

“That was weird. Can we go back inside now?” Nathan asked, rubbing at his hand to get rid of the ink. 

“Yes, go right ahead. You’ll all be left alone for awhile now. Especially you, Pickles,” Charles said. 

Pickles hung back till his bandmates were inside. “You tell anyone about this and I’ll break every lamp in your office, expensive or not.” He rushed Charles into a hug. 

“Oh,” Charles awkwardly patted Pickles’s back. 

“Thank you, I was gonna--look, you know my mahm is fucking awful. Just...thank you,” Pickles whispered, then ran back inside like someone had lit one of the booze cabinets on fire. 

[alilysrose]

So I watched the fake TFP

Under the cut I give as in depth a summary of the episode as possible with quick reactions from me.

I’m happy to message anyone the link to the episode :)

Obviously spoilers below. I’m sorry about how long it is!

Tagging a few people who may be interested @inevitably-johnlocked @multifandom-madnesss @theobellz @watertherose

I speak Serbo-Croat and understand basic Russian so I was able to get a bit of a gist of what was going on but nothing super in depth. I’m a music nerd and play the violin (Ben’s violin playing has always annoyed me!) so I comment on that a bit.

I was typing notes on my phone so I’ve used the following abbreviations:

-S = Sherlock, J = John, M = Mycroft, E = Eurus

So they're on a plane and everyone is miraculously dead apart from a little girl. Looks like whatever happened to kill everyone happened suddenly. Loads of turbulence. Oxygen masks are hanging down. Phone starts ringing, girl answers it, asks for help. Moriarty says hi. 

How the fuck do you call a phone on an airplane.  

Omg the acting. I'm dying this is horror movie trope central and I don't even watch horror movies. Mark must have had so much fun doing this. 

And Mycroft is shown to be so sentimental. Omg the paintings bleed from the eyes like seriously.   

Wtf clowns. Like how can this be serious. Music from HoB. Why is Sherlock wearing the hat. This is literally a crack fic. Like characters keep randomingly appearing.   [Note from after the episode, like something fucky is happening all the characters magically teleport at least once). 

Music from Blind Banker.

Just mentioned something about Mary and a snake. Dog bark and flashback to child Eurus. Mycroft hallucinating about their childhood? 

Mycroft client and taking John and Sherlock back through their childhood. Clearly where the boy band photo shoot came from. Because it was on location (ie $$$) in inclined to believe some of it is real.   

Main theory about russian - fewer people speak it for translating purposes. Therefore if there are real scenes in there with either fake or real dubs we'll have a harder time telling Talking about Sherlock remembering.  

So Eurus apparently burnt down the homes family cottage as a young kid and Mycroft is remembering this and telling S and J in the client chair at Baker Street. Doesn't make sense, client chair is rarely used for exposition in Sherlock. The blocking is off. 

Skull hell still s4 skull turned on.   

Mycroft describing the institution/ prison where Eurus was kept. Hint: it's Mark's blueprint dick.   

Now everyone's hearing Eurus. There's a drone. Someone asks what the drone is. Someone answers it's a drone. Stellar dialogue (I can't tell the voices apart).  

Omg Hudders. [Post ep note: she was dancing to music while vacuuming. No clue what happened to her after the bomb. Ded?]

Omg dat slow mo. Highschool musical. Same fire promo as end of TLD. Now we know why it was so corny. That was Sherlock not Mycroft on the right. Speakers on ship keep saying sherinford. Sailors are confused af. Sherlock teleports to the boat. With John! Swan dives onto the boat deck (same as waterfall music).   

Again only two seconds of boat stuff compared to the amount we saw them shooting.   

Sherlock wrote 'tell my sister I'm here' in the sand at sherrinford. So this is after TLD and they've apparently recaptured Eurus and John has had plastic surgery after being shot in the face? Okaaaaaaaaay. 

Omg lmao Mycroft disguised as the fisherman (similar to that patient that John treated in empty hearse).   

So they've discovered Mycroft but still letting him give directions to Sherlock to get to Eurus' cell over an earpiece.   

Ben looks weird af with a beanie. Eurus plays the violin. 

Mycroft and John somehow made friends with interrogator.   

Sherlock is playing the theme for the woman and the bowing doesn't match the music or even when Sherlock is playing 😂😂😂 FAKE 

They actually touch their ears when listening to the earpieces. Is this year 9 drama class?   

Literally just did storm pathetic fallacy along with scary music.   

Eurus is trying to kill Sherlock. Sherlock is just lying there. Literally not even trying to defend himself like he did with Culbertson. 

They just had John fainting backwards, going cross eyed and spiny spiny effects. 

Moriarty is playing 'I want to break free' he looks like he's in one of the those sexy car ads.   

Moriarty: how many? 

Guard: three 

Moriarty: enough 

(Guessing they're referring to M, S and J) 

Nativity scene. Moriarty and M having a scene together. Mycroft sitting down. M theory maybe???   

Most telling: apart from 221B Baker Street, no wallpaper. 

Now some interpretative dance between Moriarty and Eurus. Lettering on the cell where M, S and J are says three feet.   

Now flight of dead again, girl calls through from the plane now. M and S deducing the girl, coming up with a plan, a better plan?   

Eurus is out, supposedly Moriarty broke her out. They've got the wife of random guy [post ep note: His name is David, WHY THE FUCKERY ARE THERE ONLY LIKE 3 NAMES ON THIS SHOW???] who's locked up with M, S and J.   

Eurus gives S the choice to shoot J or M to save wife of random guy. S chooses M. Mark's acting is terribly hilarious. Sherlock gives up on M and tries to hand gun butt to J. Omg red light going on and off with Moriarty trying to beatbox???? (Probably countdown). Yeah he's saying tick tick tick tick. Sounds like beat boxing though. 

John is going to shoot random guy??? He just asked random guy's name (David). Hmmmmm. Making him kneel. John says no. David takes gun off John. D suicides. Mycroft throws up. Mycroft miraculously recovers. 

Eurus shoots D's wife. Eurus is pissed Sherlock didn't choose J or M??? Sherlock has the gun again.   

Moriarty says Choo chooo as S, J and M are able to leave the room. [Post episode note: I’m clearly witnessing emmy-award wining writing here)  

Back to plane. Kid is drinking a juice and still on the phone somehow. Sherlock trying to deduce. Someone's at kid's grandparents.   

This episode is so weird it's like S having to pass a series of Moriarty and Eurus created tests. SMJ have somehow acquired a rifle. Continuity 👌 

Ah they're deducing who owns the rifle. J getting bitchy with M. Didn't answer the riddle fast enough so Eurus hanging three guys (not hung) outside the window to help Sherlock guess and deduce.   

All three guys dropped into the sea to death. Pretty sure S just told J that caring doesn't help/ save them to comfort? him. 

S and M deducing a coffin. I love you written on the coffin. Now S has 3 minutes to get Molly to say I love you on the phone? Eurus now beat boxing (ie. tick tick tick tick). A mastervillisn clearly came up with this plot. 

This tick tock red light stuff is like so extra.   

Why are they making such a big fuss about this I love you? And why was Sherlock so upset about it? Now Sherlock it beating up a coffin.   

Like wtf is the plot. They solve a puzzle by Eurus in one room then move to the next room? Now and then plane girl phones in and now and then there are red lights with Moriarty or Eurus beatboxing (tick tock tick tick). 

Sherlock has to choose between M and J. AGAIN. M and J both trying to convince Sherlock to shoot them and not the other. I think Mycroft just revealed M theory. Shoot straight little brother 😭 Mycroft highlighted in red light again, Moriarty pops up again.  

I can't pick where this music is from.   

Sherlock can't do it. He's about to suicide. Counting down. Why aren't M and J doing something?  Only Eurus is trying to talk him out of it. Sherlock pulled a pin out of the back of his head? Flashback of Eurus. Sherlock lying on table girl on plane coming through speakers.   

John teleported to well. Mycroft's voice somehow over the loud speakers. This doesnt make any sense and it's not that it's in Russian.   

Sherlock was in a shipping container helpfully dropped outside his childhood home (Musgrave). But he can still somehow hear Eurus. This almost has me on the EMP train. 

Why can everyone hear each other?? And why are there magically TV screens everywhere? 

John is chained to the bottom of the well.   

Sherlock talking to Eurus on a magic TV inside Musgrave hall and having childhood flashbacks while John just drowns?   

Sherlock just said Victor Trevor who was his childhood friend? But Victor in BB???Victor did something to Redbeard though. Now a shot of a kid down a well. Maybe young John or Victor? So young Victor drowned and John just found his skull in the bottom of the well. 

Flashback of great game pool and Abominable Bride waterfall. Wtf I'm now believing in EMP thanks to a fake episode? This scene (from TV eurus) could be the 26 pages? [Post ep: I doubt it but trying to keep an open mind to how fake it could be] Sherlock playing with words in the air at Nemo's grave.   

The girl has been crashing in the plane for almost 90 minutes now. Still somehow has a phone connection. Sherlock runs into a room and it's Eurus again. Definitely EMP. Wtf. Girl on plane was Eurus?   

Eurus: no one listened to me Sherlock hugging Eurus 'don't cry'.  

Time jump. Eurus arrested. John outside of well. J has shock blanket. Lestrade there.   

I just don't get how the fuck everyone teleported everywhere in the episode. 

This is definitely an ASIP callback. J and S talking about a text. John: 'it's neither better nor worse' 

Mummy Holmes telling M off (about Eurus, Sherlock and Sherlock's blog)? Daddy Holmes there too. Sherlock watching. This is in Mycroft's bunker office. 

Sherlock takes violin to Eurus. 

Sherlock playing to Euros. Can hear violin while Sherlock and John clean up Baker Street. 

Ugh the violin playing has almost always annoyed me in the show they don't move their wrists. Now Sherlock and Eurus playing a duet. 

Mary on a video to John. 

Brief shots back to ASIP. (John's nightmare st the bedsit, first shot of Sherlock opening the body bag).

Mary is doing a wrap up voice over for John??? Or the audience???

Awww J and S remaking Baker Street. Spray paint and gun shots and everything! 

Lmao E and S playing Sherlock main theme on violin. 

Parentlock. 

Mummy and Daddy and Mycroft sitting watching Eurus and possibly Sherlock play violin while smiling. 

Mary says Sherlock and Dr Watson. This Ep is obvs fake. Random running shot of Sherlock and John out a building. Credits! 

Like I literally can’t believe what I just watched. I literally cannot make sense of it as well.

IF this episode is real then I’m 100% on the EMP train even though that disappoints me as I’ve always seen it as the easy way out.

Honestly though I’m so doubtful that this is real. It had no new score, sloppy acting, sloppy writing, slopping cinematography and editing. Ugh. 

I’m still not sure what the point of the whole story was. Like Mycroft told Sherlock and John about Eurus burning down their house so they decided to go on a boat trip to visit her. Somehow Mycroft got there when we only saw John and Sherlock on the boat. Then it turned into mystery hour solving weird puzzles for Eurus while Moriarty beatboxed and a girl on the plane crashed for 60 minutes. Then more teleportation, Sherlock talking to more tv screens and a miraculous ending that fell about 1,895 miles short. Also how was Eurus on the island in the first place. That definitely was never explained. 

I honestly got bored while watching it which should not have happened given I was watching it for the first time while taking notes in a language I barely speak. Like geez it must be 10 times worse in English. Okay. Rant over. I hope this helps or something lol and if this is the real episode tomorrow I’ll try and get this review published!

Seriously though I love you guys and this has been the best fandom day ever.