#love you all your comments and replies are my lifeblood and fuel

[lacollectionneuse1967]

so this was a lie 🚶🏻‍♂️👍🏼

When is part 3 going to be out? I’m so excited!!

getting a lot of this question <3 i haven't been working on it (vacation hehe) but a tentative date is Late next week! thank you all for reading i love you

i will make sure to tag those who asked!

[rosesgonerogue]

I didn’t so much fall in love - It kicked me in the face Chapter Eight

Masterlist

The room seemed empty without the plague that was his brothers. Tim stood silent and still for a few moments longer (long enough to make it awkward) before he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about Damian, he was out of line.” 

“He was, but I was a little out of line as well,” Marinette said with a sigh. “But you are also not responsible for your brother. I feel like I need to apologize and let you know that it’s okay if you don’t want to go for coffee.” 

“No, we’re still on for that,” Tim said immediately. “As long as you still want to, of course.” 

“I’ll be waiting in anticipation. But I’ve held you captive for too long already, I’m sure you’ve got things to do, naps to take. Unless you have any last minute comments or complaints on the suit?” 

“Ask me that again on a day when I’ve had more than forty-five minutes of sleep. Then I’ll have an incredibly witty response,” Tim said with a smile. “Aside from the lack of lining, the suit is everything I never knew I needed.” 

He carefully took off the jacket while his mind raced. Hearing the way Marinette had phrased her experiences had struck him with the fact that Paris wasn’t nearly as idyllic and safe as they had supposed, and the thought of Marinette in danger was unacceptable. Instead of sleeping, Tim found himself compiling a briefing file on the crime history of Paris, as well as the most important aspects of Ladybug and Chat Noir. Now Tim just had to convince everyone else that some of them needed to go assess the situation in the city itself. There were numerous evidences that Hawkmoth was an issue of the past, but the fact that the whole situation had gone on for at least four years without the League even noticing was… concerning, to say the least. 

Privately, Tim couldn’t help but wonder just how Marinette’s name hadn’t been added to the list of “akumatized” victims. From everything he knew of her, she was fueled by love and passion - she was an unstoppable force of emotion. He couldn’t help but respect her all the more. 

Ladybug was also a mystery. Paris wasn’t in constant danger like before, but she remained active, helping out in day-to-day crime. Chat Noir showed up occasionally, but she seemed to be the only regular hero. 

It was hours before the fittings for Dick and Jason were finished, and then he called everyone in for a meeting. Damian looked incredibly annoyed, a good portion of which was a remnant from his earlier collision with Marinette. Just thinking about the skirmish was enough for Tim to decide he was at least a little bit in love with the woman. Anyone who could put Damian in his place like that was someone to be respected. 

“So what’s up, Timmy? Why the family meeting? It must be serious if even Alfred is part of this,” Dick said, sitting down.

“First I have a question for Bruce. Did the League ever get any kind of distress call from Paris between nine and five years ago?” 

“From Paris? None that I know of. What’s going on, Tim?” Bruce asked, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Sit down boys, there’s been a serious oversight.” 

Tim handed them each a file and sat down, settling in to watch their reactions. 

*******

“Why do you keep looking in the mirror, Maman?” 

Marinette lurched away from the bathroom mirror, cheeks flushing. “I… I was just making sure my hair looked okay.” 

“You look pretty, Maman. I’m sure Monsieur Tim will think so too. When this is done you need to invite him to Paris so you can go on a date without me, like it’s supposed to be.” 

Choking on her spit, Marinette stared at her child. “Leo! Who told you to say such a thing?!” 

“Uncle Kim says that kids aren’t supposed to go on dates.” 

“Well, that’s usually true,” she said, massaging her temples. “But people go on dates to see if they like someone enough to see if they want them to be in their lives forever. If a man wants to be in my life forever, I have to make sure that you like him.” 

“I told you, we’re supposed to know Monsieur Tim,” Leo said, slightly exasperated. “He makes us both happier.” 

“You’re right, and I trust you, but Monsieur Tim and I just need to get to know each other before anything happens.” 

“Fine,” Leo huffed, dramatically throwing himself onto his hotel bed. Marinette couldn’t help but shake her head. Her son was incredibly mature, and sometimes it felt like he could practically see into the future. But she loved the reminders that he was still just a child. 

“Stop pouting, it’s time to go,” Marinette said, shoving him off of the bed. He caught himself with ease - it seemed that he’d been blessed with a natural athleticism instead of her own inborn clumsiness.

The coffee shop was easily within walking distance, and Marinette held Leo’s hand with the strength of a vice - it was Gotham, after all, and they didn’t have the best track record with the city. 

After walking for about a block, Marinette finally brought herself to ask Leo what she’d been wondering since she and Leo had met Tim. “Leo?” 

“Hmm?” 

“What do you mean when you keep saying that we’re supposed to know Monsieur Tim?”

He turned to her, gifting her with one of his rare full smiles, and Marinette barely resisted the urge to smother him in a hug. His blue eyes sparkled with some secret knowledge before he said, “That’s a secret, Maman. You just have to wait and find out.” 

“Leo, that’s not fair,” Marinette said, mock pouting. 

“Monsieur Tim is going to be important to us both, but especially to you,” Leo said plainly. “He can understand you in a way that most people can’t, but he wouldn’t try to pity you or something like that.” 

Whatever she had been expecting, it definitely hadn’t been a reply like that. Marinette found herself rendered speechless for the rest of the walk, her mind racing with the possibilities of what Leo could possibly mean by that. 

They were early, but Tim was actually already inside, remarkably awake for so early in the morning. He sat at one of the tables by the window, and when he caught sight of her he waved wildly. (Marinette couldn’t tease him about it though, she and Leo waved just as enthusiastically.) She couldn’t help but smile. With a start to her day like this, how could it go wrong?

Taglist:  @ii-fox-demon @queen-in-a-flower-crown @novaloptr @saphiraazure2708 @iamabrownfox @smolplantmum @redhoodedtoad @loysydark @slytheringinger300 @finallyaniguana @brokenwordsarehard2 @abrx2002 @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @moonlightstar64  @marinettepotterandplagg @black-streak @purplesundaze @maribat-is-lifeblood @the-fusionist @river9noble @chocolatecatstheron @darkthunder1589 @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @dast218 @k-poplunardreams @meanids @changelinggarden @ladybug-182 @pawsitivelymiraculous @zotinha456 @tumbling-down-hills-and-stuff @somebodyspersephone @spider-person95 @zestyzealot @toodaloo-kangaroo @kokotaru @kurogaya913 @tis-i-beanbandit  @annapointone

Note:

Here's the next chapter, kids! I already posted about this, but I want your opinion as well. I have at least two more ideas for Mominette fics, would y'all be interested in me posting them? I'm still trying to ride through quarantine without seeing my nieces and nephews, so I need children in my life SOMEHOW. There’s a Daminette one and a Jasonette one. Let me know what y’all think. Also somehow I’ve almost got 500 followers??! I would like to do something as a thank you, just let me know if you guys have any ideas. 

Also I’m totally fine with my brand becoming Mominette. I don’t know how much everyone else in this little niche fandom like it, but I also assume the majority of you aren’t single people in grad school that get lonely. 

Anyway, let me know what you guys think, both for the Mominette fics and what you want for the 500 follower thing once I hit 500 followers! 

[border-spam]

(Featuring @godkingsanointed ‘s amazing OC JK)

  Mid COV

   “There’s a H… there." 

Seifa tapped a black nail into the paper Jak-Knife was staring at so intently their mask’s front grill brushed against the page. They let out a rumbling groan, slowly shaking their head side to side as she reassuringly patted their hand, leaning pressed against the length of their back so she could peer down at the scrawled letter splayed on the table in front of them.

"A H? Why??” they whined, cupping the sides of their head in calloused hands with a dejected sigh. Words were stupid.

It had been a long day for both of them.

Sei had only just made it to her ship after a night of red tape and managing delays in her office below. Tyreen’s Saints had incredible skill in somehow making sure their daily business ended up impacting Troy’s in some way. Missing shipments, deadlines shifted far shorter than possible with no warning, the usual shit. She’d sat for hours after her shift, gritting her teeth while pouring through their condescending e-coms, pausing every now and then to distract herself from the frustration by catching flashes of today’s arena stream.

The Blight Devil had ripped through raiders on the flickering office screen as her papers shuffled. Heretics who’d led an assault on a protected settlement and refused to repent now faced the Holy Father’s executioner, a fitting end to parasites sucking lifeblood from the isolated villages the COV kept in food and medical supplies.

She’d found them after the fight as she left her office that night, leaning silently against the elevator gate in the lower workshop that lead to her ship docked above the Mechanicum. Head bowed and tilted to the side, ankles crossed and arms folded across their chest. They were spotless as usual, arena blood expertly removed from their skin, but the weight of the fight was visible on their frame - tired and quiet.

They’d perked out of their doze as she approached, and lifted a bag filled with something hot and spicy from the Slums as a greeting. JK was always like this. They had as much an open invitation to her home as the others, but while she’d retire some nights and find Ven and Eli already smiling cheekily from her kitchen table and expecting dinner to appear now that she’d gotten home, or Troy curled up asleep in the same tiny wall cot that she’d told him was his years ago, JK never entered without her.

Always waited by the elevator with offering in hand, a gift of food or beer like an olive branch. Habit, she figured. Something from a life of survival in Pandora’s roaming clans she’d maybe never understand, but she could appreciate even though she reassured them it wasn’t needed every single time.

She could tell they were struggling to keep going now still, heavy muscle shifting under her ribs as they groaned at the letter covered in smudged ink between their elbows on the kitchen table, muttering about the rogue “H” through their mask’s respirator.

Words made no damn sense, even less when they were marked down in writing.

 Bandit cant had always served JK well, icons, symbols, communication scratched into rocks and dirt and corpses with the tips of jagged blades. Writing was pointless, they’d been told that for as long as they could remember. Adults in their clan had mocked newcomers to Pandora, said their big words and fancy letters were just to hide behind. A mask without a mask, so they could pretend they were better, stronger than the salt and blood of the earth that crawled across the planet’s dusty wastes in scavenging mobs.

You didn’t need to write or read when your family could respond like a singular pack unit to bird whistles or rhythmic pounding on dry rock. Learning would be a waste of time and resources better used to serve the marauding horde.

This H was a waste. The flimsy, golden pen clutched in their calloused fist was a waste, a symbol of wealth, education, of weakness on Pandora. If it hadn’t been a gift, they’d…

“Because without the H it says tanks. Like, war-machines, you know?” Seifa laughed, pushing against them to her feet and shooting a deadeye finger gun at their chest with a silent pow as she back stepped to her side of the table.

“But gotta say, that looks like a love letter, JK” she grinned, lowering herself into her seat with an ungraceful thump.

“..She a fan of tanks?”

They huffed quietly, refusing to meet the shit-eating grin they knew she was aiming at them as she shuffled the papers in front of her and leaned back into her chair with a creak of wood.

“She likes tanks, yeah. She.. likes all weapons. All machines. Makes ‘em, fixes 'em..” they murmured as Seifa clicked her tongue in response, wolf whistling.

“Sounds like my kind of woman.”

“She’s… my kind of woman.” Jk replied through a crackling laugh, scratching the pen against the paper with practiced concentration. “She should have nice things like.. letters. She should have poems, songs.. chants… and thank you.” they looked up, catching Sei’s inquisitive gaze “Thank you for helping me.” She followed their hand, gesturing towards the paper with a blunt finger.

Sei laughed, smoothing loose hair back over her shoulder. “Don’t thank me, pal. I think if anything, I’m using you as a distraction..” she sighed, expression turning somber as she dropped the stack of papers to the table in front of her, grimacing. 

“This jank is terrible.”

“Words?” they offered, lenses catching the light as their eyes followed her when she stood. 

“Nah JK, numbers” she scoffed, rolling sore shoulders as she stepped towards the kitchen counter to their side. “WAY worse. Listen, want to try something gross?” the chair struggling to support their bulk squeaked behind her as JK turned to face the cupboard she was rooting through. “I got this new coffee..-somewhere.. where is..- Ahh!”

“I like coffee, sure!” they chuckled with a nod, thumping their fist onto the little table the pair had been sharing in her ship’s kitchen

“This coffee though - ” she corrected smugly “This coffee has been shit out of some horrible little monkey thing on Eden-2” she smirked, stifling a giggle in response to the barking guffaw that erupted behind her.

“WHAT” they yelled through the muffle of the mask’s filters, deep voice cracking in amusement.

Sei turned, waving the foil bag towards them playfully as she leaned back against the counter.

“I’m not joking, gift from an ore dealer me and Ven had to sweet talk into very generous trade agreements on Astrensis a month ago. I don’t know if he was trying to impress me or what, but this is basically worth its weight in platinum and it’s-”

“ - It’s shit juice!” JK gasped between rolling belly laughs.

“It’s fuckin’ shit juice pal, you’re not wrong!” she chuckled, smile wrinkling across her nose as she flipped the coffee maker’s switch, grinning softly as the clunky hiss of the machine filled the little kitchen quarters.

Jk sighed happily behind her, twisting to stare at their paper again. “Rich people are so wrong. They don’t belong, not here, waste everything. Just walking sacks of ego thinking their paper money will stop this place taking its due from 'em”. They grunted thoughtfully, then continued in a quieter tone.

“I thought you were a rich person when we first met, another off-worlder.”

Seifa turned, wide-eyed in surprise at the comment.

JK was someone she’d known for years now, but even with so many hours of quiet time together in this ship, a quiet hiding hole away from the Holy City’s heaving bustle and fame both their titles reluctantly carried, even after all this time, they rarely spoke of their own feelings in this manner. JK’s thoughts were something they held deep in their chest, opinion’s they’d share, advice they’d willingly give, but their thoughts? She wanted to hear more, it was an unusual glimpse into an incredibly interesting mind.

“You thought I was rich?” she balked, pointing towards her chest. “How? You seen the way I live?”

Their head tilted, turning slowly to glance around the cabin. Clean, homely. Plants and textiles covering cracked wall panels… repaired and well-maintained kitchenware, the coffee machine behind her newer than nearly anything else surrounding it. They shifted, looking down at the polished and well loved table, the stains and scratches buffed but still visible in the finish. Years of love and use.

They made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a laugh, tilting their head slowly to the side. “Not about what you own, Seifa. It was how you carry yourself. You’re the only person in the room till you don’t want to be, then you were never there at all. Eyes miss you.” they rumble.

“Don’t belong here. Don’t belong out there either, in the city. Covered in gold, thought you were like the others. You aren’t though.” JK hums, shifting their eyes to the scrapped together coffee machine behind her.

“..You’re like him.”

She’d laugh if that wasn’t such an insult, rolling her eyes and huffing a chuckle into her fist.

“Thanks. What a compliment.” she groaned, flashing a quick grin before lifting a finger to scratch at her jaw thoughtfully. "… I’m not rich though I fleece the twins for all they are worth, sure, but that’s just good business.“ the homemade machine behind her whistled quietly as she paused, breathing deep the acrid aroma of roasted coffee wafting through the room.

"My clan might not be called that, but it’s still what they are. We’ve a creed of support. One of us does well for themselves? Strikes it rich? Lucks a factor as much as skill. There’s 10 bad deals for every good one.. some get a real bad streak, JK.” they nodded, understand her meaning if not her experiences.

“There were times before the twins where I needed help from family, care packages and donations to keep my ship running and fuel tanks full, now I repay that debt with what I earn here, spread the wealth to others who struggle now like I did then.” Seifa shrugged, uncomfortable in sounding anything close to generous regardless of the truth. “ It’s our creed, like I said. Family first.”

Jk grunted, nodding to themself as they stared at the table in front of them, the scrunched letter in shaky lines.

“Family first..” they echoed, not quite to themself, and not quite to her either.

Family.

They let their eyes rest on the pen gripped in their hand, tilting it slowly. The solid gold barrel reflecting light the same way the gilded fangs in his crooked grin had as he pressed the box into their open palm. Troy had been so happy when he handed them the case, blushing and shifting his weight from foot to foot as he waited for them to open it. They’d not known what to do with the contents, looking back and forth between the solid gold pen and him awkwardly. Waiting for him to explain how they should react, anxiously hoping he’d guide them as always.

He’d laughed, plucking it from the case and pointing at the name etched into the bodywork.

“It’s for you, see, it’s your name like we p-practiced. J.a.k-.k.n.i.f.e, see it?” his hand had been trembling with excitement, cheeks flushed and smile squinting his eyes as he loomed over them, pressed close enough to hear his ragged breaths.

“Now when you write you’ll know I got your b-back, yeah? I’ve got your back, understand? 'Cus you’ll know that I know you can do it, and I’ll keep teaching you.”

They hadn’t known what to say, the words that felt right were choking in their throat. They knew Troy often compared himself cruelly to them, would emasculate himself by placing aspects of who they were on a pedestal then berate himself for not reaching. It was hard to communicate their awareness of it with him. He was so easily hurt by his weaknesses being recognised, it was easier to pretend they didn’t notice and insist on complimenting him when they spotted him sinking under his own detrimental thoughts. Lift him up when they saw him flag.

But this, writing? Reading? Troy was excellent at this. It was something he could help them with, and as soon as he’d realised they could do neither, he’d jumped on the opportunity to teach them. They understood it was a repayment of his own volition, even if they couldn’t understand why God King Calypso would feel like he’d owed them in any way. They were his guard. They shielded him. They didn’t need to be thanked, you don’t need to thank a brother…

Seifa waited for as silence fell between them, giving JK the chance to continue, but they said nothing, nodding almost imperceptibly as they continued to stare at the pen.

They got lost sometimes in the depths under that mask, but the people close to them understood, and it was easy enough to bring JK back into the current. Wait a moment, give them a chance to snap back, then pull them back into the conversation.

She cleared her throat to break the quiet.

“So, is this lady rich then? If she likes poems and songs… and weapons?”

It snapped them out of their daze immediately, turning snake quick to glare through the mismatched lenses at her instead.

“She… she has money yes, she works hard. Very hard. I don’t know if she even would like a poem. It’s just something.. I see sometimes on the echonet, those movies Troy watches.”

“You give poems to great women, don’t you…?” their voice caught on a question towards the end, something they weren’t wording but clearly needed an answer for.

Sei stepped towards them, reaching out to lay a hand on their shoulder as she carefully arranged the words that felt most right for them.

“Maybe..” she started tentatively, leaning down a little to meet their eyes through the mask’s glass. “..if that’s what she wants, sure. But it sounds like this woman doesn’t need fancy things, JK. Sounds like she’s plenty good at seeing the truth of what things are, huh?”

They nodded emphatically, the quiet choking sounds from under their mask emphasising their eagerness to agree.

“Thought so” Sei grinned cheekily. “Why not write how you see her then, huh? No poems, just the truth of how things are.” They rumbled as she patted their shoulder, turning back to the small kitchen to prepare their drinks.

She smiled triumphantly to herself as the welcoming sound of the pouring coffee mixed with the scratching of their pen behind her, before it was interrupted by a stern grunt.

“Seifa, how do you spell refuge?”

[writing-in-riverdale]

how to praise writers & influence your favourite fics

okay so ive seen many posts about this matter and then i saw this massive post from a lovely blog that ill link below if i find it again. but anyways ive seen a lot of writers, including myself post about reminding our readers to leave feedback on fics, which i think is freaking great!!

writers deserve all the love they can get. the likes, reblogs, comments, messages, these are the lifeblood of writers. they give us proof that people are reading, that they’re enjoying, and that they want more. it helps us know that we don’t suck and fuels us to continue producing for you guys

i know that maybe some of you readers don’t know what to say. maybe you’re new to Tumblr, new to reading fan fiction, shy, or just not sure how to say what you want to say. and that’s okay.

let me just start off by saying that no matter how popular the blog or how cool you think they are, everyone loves a compliment. if you’re worried about sounding silly or bothering people, let me assure you- a message will make your writer do a happy dance (depending on the writer, they may actually get up and dance. i know that i have. many many times)

heres the basic ways of communicating with writers on Tumblr:

likes & kudos- these are great, they’re the high-fives in this world. they are the “hey, nice” nod.

reblogs - even better, because they mean exposure. more people see the story and that makes us really happy. a reblog with a comment is amazing, especially one that entices others to read. there make a writer’s day.

comments & messages- these are the thing that keeps us going, majority of us will have anon turned on- and if we don’t, just let us know you want a private reply. (if your writer has anon off, it probably means they’ve been getting hate and deserve extra love.)

recommendations - recs are like coming in to work to find someone baked your favorite cake and left it on your desk. they make your writer feel so loved and valued beyond your imagination

so, that’s all good, but what do you actually SAY to writers? It doesn’t have to be much or take a lot of time. like seriously a simple “This is great/funny/hot!” is wonderful. “Best fic I’ve read this week!“ “Funny as hell and cute too.” "You have to read this, it’s awesome!“ "I can’t wait for more of this.” "I hope you keep going!“ theses are great in reblogs and in messages.

what is even better is the specific feedback god we live for that specific feedback, because it tells us what readers liked and what they didn’t.

want to influence our next fic? tell us what you liked about this one and I bet you it will keep showing up! specific feedback is just telling the writer what you liked. It doesn’t have to be long or complicated, either. (But if you write a lot, we will love you so much.)

was there a character you liked? talk about them: "I love how you wrote X” “Y was so funny!” "OMG I wanted to STRANGLE Q!“ "You can really feel X’s frustration.” "Y has so much depth, they’re a really well-rounded character.“ "R says so much with so few words, it’s amazing.”

what about a part or line you enjoyed? "That bit in the park- LOVE IT.“ "I have never read a better description of a cup of tea.” "The way you wrote about his fear, that was heartbreaking.“ Was there a part that made you feel something? Happy, sad, angry? "That last sentence killed me, he’s so broken.” "I wanted to jump around when they finally kissed!“ "This chapter was so tense, my heart was pounding by the end.”

did the characters or plot or setting remind you of your life? "I live in Brussels, that’s just how that street looks.“ "When Y talked about R, I knew exactly how he felt.” "You captured that lost, aimless feeling perfectly; I’ve so been there.“

are there unanswered questions? mention how much you want the answers. "I can’t wait to find out what’s in the basket!” "That was a cliffhanger ending, wow.“ "How is she going to explain THAT?” (some writers are touchy about predicting, though, so stay away from “I bet he’ll throw that letter out.” or “X is clearly coming back.”)

a few other closing notes: be enthusiastic if that’s your style, go crazy with exclamation marks, smileys, caps! tell a writer if you’re rereading their work or just stumble across their page and binge read all of their stuff- very little makes us happier than knowing our writing has the staying power for a second, third, sixth, tenth read.

did a reread give you a new insight or feeling about the fic? tell us! we will be so excited to hear & remember, recommendations are wonderful- putting up a random post tagging your favorite writers or fics you’re enjoying will show the writers that they’re writing is more than a flash in the opan and they’ll get some new readers too!

we can’t do this writing thing without you guys. so thank you so much! without readers, we’re just talking to ourselves. we love and appreciate you for reading- but we need to know you’re doing it. we need feedback like we need air. don’t let your favorite writers suffocate!