#thanks again to Mathie for the fic as well

[thrumugnyr]

My @acotargiftexchange gift for @witch-and-her-witcher: Secret lovers Tamlin and Rhysand

Big thanks go out to Santa helper @highlordofkrypton, who graciously offered to contribute a little ficlet for the piece as well~! You can read it under the cut:

Meet me when the spirit blossoms bloom

The stars fall from the sky, sneaky little droplets under the cover of Night. They slip through the crack of Tamlin’s window, dancing across his sheets with their tails entwined like held hands. The bright baubles play, forgetting their missive for a brief moment of joy. The littlest one tumbles, bumping right into the young lord’s chin. It scrambles over his lips and wiggles under his nose until its a—ah—

“Achoo!”

Tamlin wakes with a surprise. He looks at the lights, and they pass on the message with great theatrics. He scoops them into his arms, and carries them to the window sill where they may watch, or leave. Whatever they please. He dresses swiftly, faster than the anxious beat of his heart.

I shouldn’t. I can’t allow this to continue.

And yet, his fingers fly across the buttons of his shirt, buttoning them with swift ease. His body thrums with eagerness. Each thump in his chest speaks his truth: I want to see him, I want to see him, I want to see him. Tamlin scoops up the stars as he leaps onto the sill, gently tossing them into the sky. They have a duty now, too, to watch over them and warn them of danger. With each escape, Tamlin cannot help but expect the sound of the alarms, of the furious steps of his brothers and of his name twisted into that of a traitor’s, but it never comes. One day, it will, but he takes today for himself and gifts it to the one who summons him.

Tamlin slips out of his father’s court and flies the rest of the way, trusting his great tawny wings to carry him where he needs to go. Past Summer, past Winter and over the Middle. If these Lords sense his trespassing, they say nothing.

I have to tell him. I have to be strong for both of us.

The meadow in Dawn is one of many safe spaces where duty, tradition and expectation cannot find them. It is a quiet place shielded by trees where alabaster flowers bloom. Their cores are not of colourful pollen, but of tiny little wisps, little spirits of neither human nor faerie nature. The wisps keep their secret, and Tamlin will be eternally grateful to them.

There is no choice to make, only something he must do. Love or life. He cannot love if one of them is dead. By ending this, he is protecting both of them. He is making sure that his beauty, his wonder and his charm carry on somewhere in this damned world, even if it’s not with Tamlin. 

He will change lives. He has already changed mine.

It’s different in his presence. Rhysand brings the moon and the stars with him, his personal guard while the rest of the nation slumbers. A dashing smile blooms on his handsome features, growing wider and wider at the sight of Tamlin. His joy is clear on his face, and the flush on his cheeks is a matching pair to Tamlin’s.

“Rhysand,” Tamlin breathes.

“Darling,” Rhysand hums, reaching for him.

“Wait—”

The words get caught in his throat as he sees the elation in Rhysand’s face falter. The smile slips away, replaced with worry and… sadness.

“What is it?” Rhysand asks, just a whisper, as if he can still prevent the moment from shattering.

I can’t do it.

Tamlin closes his eyes, shaking his head. He exhales, and leans in close. “I think… I think I’m in love with you.”

Rhysand chuckles in relief. He bumps his head against Tamlin’s, mindful of his antlers. “I thought you were going to say something else. I love you too.”

There’s a sorrow in Rhysand’s eyes that never quite leaves, no matter how fine he appears. He knows what Tamlin was going to say. The end is coming, sooner or later, but not now. Not if Rhysand can help it.

Just one more day.

One more day by the spirit blossoms.

[achaotichuman]

THANK YOU FOR THE TAG MATHI!! This looks incredibly fun

Describe your writing process from idea to posting/publishing

Lemme set the scene.

It's the middle of the night, the doomscrolling of social media has consumed my soul. All of a sudden, I ASCEND.

THE GODS BESTOW VISIONS

I AM LEFT REELING WITH ONLY THE KNOWLEDGE THAT I MUST SPREAD THE WORD OF THIS DREAM, THIS GIFT.

ROCKETING BACK DOWN TO REALITY, I SPRINT FOR THE COMPUTER I WRITE IN A HAZE, NOTHING MAKES SENSE, BUT WHY WOULD IT.

Then I stop.

I realise I am writing something that I am less than educated about.

SO I STUMBLE INTO THE RABBIT HOLE OF ARTICLES AND RESEARCH LOSING HOURS OF MY PRECIOUSLY SHORT LIFE TO FIGURING OUT HOW A NAME FOR A SIDE CHARACTER WHO WILL NEVER BE MENTIONED AGAIN WILL SET THE SCENE FOR THE CULTURE OF THE FICTIONAL PEOPLE IM WRITING ABOUT

AND ONCE IT IS DONE, I BARELY THROW IT AT @sonics-atelier AND PRAY IT LEGIABLE. (they'll tell me if it's not)

Okay, but for a serious answer. I find my ideas in the most unlikely of places, and then I hyperfixate on them for an unspecified amount of time. I have no schedule, nor organizational skills.

Are you a plotter or a pantser?

Panster all the way, but I am *trying* to learn to plot ahead.

What do you listen to when you are writing?

I have a writing playlist that is pretty much a blend of every genre in existence.

What’s your drink of choice(while writing)?

Coffee, I require the caffeine to keep my soul ascended lest I lose interest.

Promote yourself! What’s your favorite thing you’ve written?

A Court of Song and Desolation I wrote this lil fic over a year ago, then decided I made horrible mistakes, and rewrote it. I think it deserves much love!

Summary-

In the low lamplight, I was free Heaven and hell were words to me When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth Work Song: Hozier

It's been a year since the final battle of Hybern, and Spring remains in ruin. Darkness fabrics the land as its High Lord rots forgotten. Lucien, being unable to stand the distance growing between him and the male he once called his closest friend, decides to bring him to the Human Lands. But soon, a new threat tied to Koschei begins to unearth itself, promising to uproot Prythian entirely, and it has set its eyes on Tamlin.

Elain Archeron is lost to her dreams and visions, reality blurring, time and space intertwining and unravelling. Memories of who she once was are twisted now, and a woman from her past has been haunting her. After meeting Mintheal and Emerald, two escapees from the Hewn City, she decides it's beyond time to step beyond the Night Court and take fate into her own hands.

The Death God Koschei is the last threat left to eliminate, no one has yet seen the strings that move him, and the puppet master has decided its their time to come out from behind the curtain.

Share a fic of yours that you think is underrated/deserves more love.

A Court of Song and Desolation, I was expecting there to be less traction with the rewrite than the original, but I was kinda hoping for a little more interest in it.

Do you have any advice for new writers?

Piece of advice I received from my mentor growing up,

Everyone has a writing style, one that is only yours, it will develop as you get older, as you learn more and more about writing. Your writing style will have bits and pieces that you take from the things you read, read a little bit of everything, and keep reading. You're learning, and you're growing, and soon enough, one day you will look at your own writing you'll see your style, and it will just click for you.

Also piece of advice from me,

PEOPLE TALKIN SHIT ABOUT YOUR WRITING? FUCK EM

PEOPLE SAY YOUR WRITING SUCKS? FUCK EM

PEOPLE DON'T LIKE YOUR STORY? FUCK EM

YOU HAVE SUCH A SHORT FUCKING LIFE DON'T WASTE IT ON PEOPLE WHO DON'T DESERVE IT, ESPECIALLY THOSE WHO ARE PUTTING YOU DOWN

What is a writing style/technique that others do really well that you'd like to get better at?

Pacing, I am really bad at staying on track with my writing, and keeping the story moving along as the appropriate pace. Probably because I don't plan very far ahead, but I am also trying to learn how to plot properly. It's all a learning curve.

Is there a character you were surprised you enjoyed writing as much as you did?

Azriel and Elain Archeron.

Turns out when you have really empty characters, the creative freedom you get with them is very liberating.

Tags-

@shi-daisy, @praetorqueenreyna, @matrixsss

@sonics-atelier, @readychilledwine, @fourteentrout

@foxcort, @yaralulu and anyone else who wants to join!!

(ACOTAR) FANFIC WRITING TAG GAME

I love tag games and talking about writing, so I'm obsessed with this one -- thank you for thinking of me @zenkindoflove!!

Describe your writing process from idea to posting/publishing

I've already made some super long-winded posts about my drafting process and I can't seem to find the beta process post, but I'll do a short version here!

The formal answer

First draft - Don't think, just write. Nothing that comes to mind goes into the doc.

Technically point 1.2. because my betas will be cheering my insecure ass on and drag me to the finish line. They will also give me feedback on vibes.

Second draft - Flesh out the scenes that I think are too short or happening too quickly and they might need a transition.

Beta feedback and I provide them with specific questions and pain points that I experienced so they can enlighten me.

Third draft - Apply corrections

But honestly, the more I write, the less 'strict' I am in the process. Now, I'm more and more okay with just a vibe check from the betas and posting. I only follow the process above for longer fics, tbh.

Are you a plotter or a pantser?

Both. I will always start by pantsing, but ideas will pop up the more I think about it, so I'll have a doc on the side where I dump all my ideas and it becomes an outline. I don't take the time to plot it, it's just something that happens while I pants.

What do you listen to when you are writing?

Music relevant to the characters/vibe. I usually end up fixating on a single song and play it on repeat until the end. For Wildflowers, I just had 'Cruel Summer' by Taylor Swift on repeat. I can't explain it. Even if the song doesn't vibe with the scene, it just reminds my brain to stay consistent on that one emotion that made me ship the ship or like the song.

What’s your drink of choice(while writing)?

Tea. Coffee makes me smell colour and see into different dimensions.

Promote yourself! What’s your favorite thing you’ve written?

Cosmogeny -- My "Nyxlin" fic where he grew up to become an Eldritch God who wants to destroy Prythian because his parents failed him. It's a 100% self-indulgent fic with an OC (put into the role of Nyx in the ACOTAR universe) that I never ever thought anyone would like. He's a creature that has been with me through the worst times of my life, and a silent protector for my sanity. To see him be loved makes me really happy in ways that I cannot explain. I don't even think it's my best writing. I think this fic is an experience, and a community at this point and I love it even more because of the handful of readers who are along for the ride with me.

Share a fic of yours that you think is underrated/deserves more love.

Needle & King -- My fic about Rhysand's parents. I'm genuinely surprised at how poorly it's doing. I thought with the success (for me) of Wildflowers, I could make a Mathiverse that people would be interested in. Along with the outcry in the fandom for more feminism + diverse portrayal for the Illyrians, I thought I was kind of filling that void. In this fic, I get to tap into the important relationship of women between each other, and in society, as well as dive into parts of my culture I never really knew about. It's very personal to me, so I'm totally biased in saying it deserves more love! That said, keep in mind I'm a former marketing professional and I can't help but look at market, demands and stats (engagement). This will absolutely not stop me from continuing it. I'm way too invested in it. I do think that of all my fics, this would speak to a lot of readers as individuals and unrelated to any ships.

Do you have any advice for new writers?

JUST DO IT. That is my #1 advice. Don't think about anything else, except getting those words and ideas on a page. Your first draft might suck, and honestly, it's allowed to. The first draft is not meant to be a polished product. The first draft is the first step of bringing your story to life. If you catch yourself doubting yourself, stop. Just keep writing. You are new. Give yourself some grace. Even if you aren't, art is an imperfect practice. On some days, you'll be amazing, and others maybe not. The difference is if you keep writing, keep practicing, the 'minimum bar' of quality on your first draft will keep rising.

Other advice I'd love to give:

Observe. Read books. Read fics. Find writers who's styles you like and pick out why you like them. Learn from that. I learned from another hobby writer, and I will always credit her for my ability to write. I can tell you exactly what I love about her, and if I did, I'm sure you'd see it in my writing too. Even so, that doesn't mean we write exactly the same. Try different things! You may be a super experienced writer in one style, but that doesn't mean you can't try something new. You can learn different ways of writing, and then mix and match with what you like. HAVE FUN. This is a hobby, don't forget that. As a new writer, the worst thing you can do is put pressure to 'make something' out of this whether it's in the fandom spaces or professional. Learn to enjoy writing, first, and grow with joy before giving room to negativity and criticism.

What is a writing style/technique that others do really well that you'd like to get better at?

Writing stamina, writing long-form and having a more disciplined prose than I do. I feel like I'm quite weak in writing prose. My writing tends to barrel straight to the next plot-driven scene, unless I'm feeling particularly bratty and absolutely want the blorbos to kiss. I also feel like I can't convey emotions as well as I used to, but it's par for the course with growing old and more responsible for me. Sometimes, I don't have time to feel while writing. Sometimes, I just need to write and get that chapter out. I struggle to balance that too. I have some old works that will have me in tears at the same part every time, no matter how often I read it. I wish I had the patience to write more, but I struggle with it and my priority is fun over my own diligence these days. You'll see this with my short/sillier/pantsing fics vs. the multi-chapter planned ones. I only have two of those and they take a lot out of me.

Is there a character you were surprised you enjoyed writing as much as you did?

Any of the Vanserras. I kind of started writing Lucien as a necessity since he's important in Tamlin's life but I didn't super care for him at the beginning. I only started writing Eris through @acotarmemes; he wasn't on my radar. My first time writing Beron was in a shitpost so... Sorry my Autumn boys 😂 Special shoutout to Jurian because I didn't care for him at first and then I realized he's literally Hal Jordan, and now I love writing him. Coincidentally, I didn't care for writing Hal either and only wrote him because my partner requested him for her Barry. Turns out Hal Jordan and Gojo Satoru are some of my best characterizations so... Good for Jurian if this keeps up???

No pressure tags: @achaotichuman @yaralulu @sonics-atelier @watcherintheweyr @paytowinsundays and anyone who wants to join! I'm lazy to fix the tags mobile whenever you tag more than 5 people on the pooter, but please join if you want and tag me, I wanna see!

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Hey John! There‘s been an idea on my mind and, if you‘re up for fics right now, I would be super grateful if you could write it. Maybe Thorne is there as a guest on Campbell‘s radio show and they get in the way of chatting about music and become friends (or even more, maybe?). Thank you in advance ♥️

Oooh, that's an interesting combo, I don't believe I've ever seen it before.

This is after Campbell gets his own show, so, like, post-canon stuff.

On with the fic!

--

"This is Campbell Bain, the bane of your life, bringing you all the latest and classic hits of this time and before! Today we've got a very special guess on the show that I'm sure some of you are just dyin' to listen to! His silky voice comin' at you live through your speakers and headphones, probably much more tolerable than mine!"

Campbell grinned, glancing over at the man in the booth with him. "I'll introduce this mystery guest to you after I play my pick for today's 'First Up Oldie', hope you're in the mood for a little Johnny Mathis!"

He set the needle on the record and the song began to play before he turned to his guest.

The man was slightly older than Campbell, dressed in what was considered punk style, much different from Campbell's own choice of... well.... he wasn't sure what his style was called.

His eyes were painted in eyeliner, he wore all sorts of jewelry, and he was smirking in a way that Campbell could register as implying a number of things. "You think a bunch of people who listen to ya for oldies is gonna wanna hear an interview from an up-and-comin' punk artist?"

"Hey, hey, I play modern stuff too." Campbell replied, waving a finger. "I like the old stuff, reminds me of my first DJ job. 'n fact, it's an homage to it!"

"Right, the St. Jude's hour you do on Fridays?" Thorne asked, leaning back in his seat.

Campbell blinked, surprised by that. "You listen to my show?"

"Course I do! 's why I specifically requested you to interview me!" Thorne replied as he put his arms behind his head, smirking at Campbell still. "I like your style, kid, it's a whole... hodge podge of whatever, and you clearly don't give two shits. Respect."

Campbell's grin was wider now before he suddenly turned back to the controls before him as the song started to end. "And that was Wonderful, Wonderful by Johnny Mathis, a true classic! Now, onto the interview with someone who I certainly hope will become a class in his own right far into the future! Do ya wanna introduce yourself to our listeners?"

"Oh, I suppose." Thorne chuckled, sitting up, leaning towards the mic before him. "Hello out there, radio listeners. Name's Thorne Jamison, and I'm gonna be the biggest name in punk since the 1970s, just you wait."

--

"I think that went well." Thorne said, removing the headphones from his head, handing them over to the host. "Do you think people liked it?"

"Well, considering those calls we got, I'd say they did." Campbell replied, smiling. He sure was a chipper guy, always smiling and grinning, Thorne noted. It was kinda cute.

"And you're gonna play my music on your show?"

"Of course I am! Gotta get it known, yeah? And what better way than through the show hosted by the loony! You'd be surprised by how often I get letters and calls from people who like gettin' their music selections from someone like me."

"Nice, nice." Thorne nodded, standing up from his seat, holding out a hand. Campbell looked at it, then took it. "Lovely meetin' you, Bain. We should meet up again sometime, my treat."

Campbell blinked a few times. "Oh, uh, ya wanna do that?"

"'Course, I like you, kid. Wouldn't mind gettin' to know you more, yeah?"

"Uh, sure! Yeah, we can do that!" Campbell replied, shaking his hand before pulling back, his grin in place once more.

"Well then, here's my card." Thorne pulled it from his wallet, then headed for the door, but not before holding his hand up to his face, thumb and pinky sticking out, mouthing 'call me' with a wink. And with that, he was out the door.

[marrymerthurmonth]

Marry Merthur Month 2019 Masterpost

First off, a big thank you to every single writer and artist who participated in this fest! It couldn’t have happened without you. It’s creators like you that keep this fandom thriving! I also want to thank our other mod, the lovely @schweetheart, who was a wonderful help putting this together and is wholly responsible for those adorable invitation promos as well as the entire livejournal page. 💙 We have a total 40-ish works this year. (almost 30 of which are cupcakezys’ oneshots!) Please check out these wonderful creations and give them your love!

The Ao3 collection Works tag

The Month of Marriage [+ Art] by cupcakezys On Ao3 Rating: T+ Chapters: 31/31 Word Count: 63,679 Summary: This is a collection of oneshots for Marry Merthur Month , coupled with lefayart's Merlin Inktober prompts. So if you want to see our favourite idiots tie the knot in as many different ways as possible, come on and enjoy the ride.

Love makes fools of us all (but especially Merlin) by CandiceWright On Ao3 Rating: G Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 793 Summary: Merlin and Arthur have recently gotten engaged. They’ve asked Morgana and Gwen for help organizing the wedding. That was a mistake.

And all the days ever after by schweetheart On Ao3 Rating: T+ Chapters: 2/2 Word Count: 2000 Summary: Modern Royalty AU. Arthur has an important question. Merlin would just like to go back to sleep. Second chapter/sequel added for @marrymerthurmonth 2019!

The Castle of Avalon by DrJackandMissJo On Ao3 Rating: G Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 2313 Summary: Good Monday to all of you, readers. This week I am going to talk to you about a location dear to my heart. “Why is it so dear to you, Balinor?” one might ask. Simple: I  hosted the reception to my own wedding there.

Such A Good Friend by tehfanglyfish On Ao3 Rating: E Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 14030 Summary: Years after they first met, the Lady Vivian is back in Camelot and still very enchanted. The only way for Arthur to escape her unwanted advances is to enter into a fake engagement with Merlin, who proves to be a very good friend by going along with it. The plan seems perfect until Arthur discovers he has developed Feelings... and not for Vivian. Fortunately, Gwen gave him a journal where he can sort things out and make sense of it all.

Merlinktober 2019 - Day 13: Pendragon [+ Art] by magicalmischel On Ao3 Rating: G Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 595 Summary: It's the middle of the night, but that doesn't stop Arthur from asking Merlin a very important question concerning their wedding - will Merlin accept the last name Pendragon?

twitterature by comin-up-for-air On Ao3 Rating: T+ Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 5533 Summary: Arthur is Camelot FC’s star striker. Merlin is Ealdor FC’s starting goalkeeper. And the whole world thinks they’re rivals, but are they? aka the Social Media/Football/Wedding AU nobody had asked for

It’s About Time by anAshcalledYggdrasil On Ao3 Rating: G Chapters: 2/2 Word Count: 3922 Summary: Arthur is fed up of Merlin hiding his secret. He figured it out years ago, but the stubborn prat seems too scared to tell anyone. So Arthur takes matters into his own hands...accidentally. A one-shot quick fic with a short mission, bandits, magic, and a proposal to top it all off.

For the kingdom you helped me build by queenofavalon3 On Ao3 Rating: Not Rated Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 1228 Summary: AU where Merlin reveals his magic but Arthur is not tragically taken away. Tension that you could cut Excalibur with. Arthur finally stops being a dollophead and realizes who he needs in his life.

It’s About Merlin by tehfanglyfish On Ao3 Rating: T+ Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 1288 Summary: Arthur asked Merlin a question, a big question, and got a favorable answer. Now he needs to know that Gaius approves.

Some Queen for the King by PenDragonInkus On Ao3 Rating: Not Rated Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 4348 Summary: Basically Merlin finds an unfamiliar spell in his super-secret-sorcery book, and, well, does a Merlin, and casts it without thinking. The clotpole. It all ends up with singing, dancing and sorcery. And perhaps a marriage thrown in there somewhere too… 

One Hand, One Heart by MapleBreeze On Ao3 Rating: G Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 2216 Summary: The crown prince would never be allowed to wed his servant, especially not one who was also a warlock in a kingdom where magic was banned. They would have to find their own way to be together. Set mid season 2

[ART] Inktober day 24 by blau-enishi [ART] Handfasting by lao-pendragon On Ao3 [ART] At Last by SpiritDragon11 [ART] Day 2: Steep by ato-tarot [ART] Day 10: Mother by aro-tarot [ART] by mega-mathi

[ART] by lefayart On Ao3

I’d also like to remind everyone that over on the Ao3 collection we're bookmarking fics that fit the theme, but weren’t actually made for the fest. So if you’re still in the mood for some married!Merthur, check them out! And if you know of any fic that should be there, let us know! I would love to hear your thoughts about this fest. If we should do it again next year, and if so, any general suggestions that might make it better. Thank you all so much!  💙

[nillegible]

I have never thought about them as comfort characters before, but that is such a good way to put it. Mine are (again, in no particular order):

1. Liu Qingge - who is so very perfect, I am aware the fanon interpretations of him vary a lot, but in all my fave fic the authors do him just right.

2. Jin Guangyao - I have a soft spot for redemption stories? And tragedies. And complex characters with difficult siblings. JGY is just such a great character, and he’s usually written so well.

3. Jiang Wanyin - Heart of Tofu!!!

4. Percy Weasley. - I have no idea why I imprinted so hard on Percy... he’s just doing his best!

5. Xiao Jingyan - who is also just so perfect and tragic and wonderful.

And having laid them all out here, I believe I have a type, and that seems to be sibling issues (taking their martial siblings into account).

Thank you for the tag! Tagging: @myakkoh, @ibijau, @mega-mathi, @marbleglove, @marsdiogenes

Sorry if you’ve done this already, I haven’t been on tumblr much recently!

got tagged by @suspiciouspopsicle in a thing to post 5 comfort characters and then tag 5 people in no particular order.

Cloud Strife, oldie but goodie

Kim Dokja

Shang Qinghua

Jin Guangyao

Sailor Moon, another Ur fandom friend

Ok tag time! @lacertae-dreamscape @cicaklah @leatherbookmark @scribeprotra @blondejaneblonde

[dreamcrow]

Hey! Happy Holidays! If you're still taking promptals, consider: stricklake snuggles, for any verse that goes with that XD if I'm too late, then I'll just take that opportunity to thank you for the all the great fic you posted this year! *throws confetti*

thank YOU for reading!! and for such a welcome, relaxing prompt :v

this is set in the vague, near-ish future of in my sleep i dreamed of waking, after the second sequel i’ve currently got planned. no major spoilers, at least that i know of, though i…definitely let the word count get away from me. OTL

829 (!) words | it’s mf'in cozy time, lads (now ft. dumb romo conlang fluff)

It’s not that he's—ectothermic, now. Not strictly speaking.

“What you’re saying is ‘irregular endings,’ and ‘unique linguistic heritage.’ And I get that, I do.” Barbara’s voice, pitched almost convincingly to something bright and awake, is half-muffled from the voluminous cloud of their comforter. She’d hesitated a little, at first; but when she’d finally come around to the eiderdown, he’d been insufferable. “But what I’m hearing is: the fifth declension is garbage.”

“You’re just not used to such heavy inflection,” he protests. But he’s grinning, as he says it, and she’s laughing, and half-sleepy, and warm, and never, never did he ever dare to dream his life would be like this. “Six cases is hardly anything. That’s the same amount as Latin—”

“We’ve already established I only know bad doctor Latin.”

“Better than nothing.” He’d been a physician once, only briefly—back when it was still called leechdom, and featured actual leeches—but as he reaches up to take hold of her hand, he wonders how many bones he can still name. If they have names in the language he’s teaching her. “If you think this is bad, wait ‘til you hear standard Trollish.”

A flicker of something crosses her eyes, and then—because of course—she looks a little more awake. 

“I’ve never heard standard Trollish,” she says, in that slow, deliberate way. The way that means I’m asking indirectly on purpose, because for some reason, I’m interested, and invested in being gentle, even to a worn out treacherous two-timing old thing like you—

Maybe not…exactly in those words. But he hears it like that, anyway, at least until she’s pulling herself a little closer to him, and that train of thought abruptly derails. 

He rallies, just in time, and attempts a recovery. “As I told you, my dear. I’ve got an accent.”

“You’ve got an accent in English, too, you dork.”

“Regardless. You’ll pick it up. You’ll sound like a changeling, in front of all respectable troll society.”

“I am the Trollhunter’s mother,” she grumbles. Half tender, half fire, even from the comfort of bed, and oh, he is in love. “I’ll sound like whoever I damn well please.”

“Only if you master the fifth declension, áhttar.”

She groans, and kicks him tenderly in the shins, muttering something that sounds like I’ll show you declensions. He’s glad of the cover, honestly, to distract from the thought that someone—that she—would want to sound like him.

They stay like that a few more moments. He’s certainly not complaining. Then:

“Walt.”

He knows that tone of voice. But he can’t flinch, not now. “Barbara.”

“Were you aware. It’s almost nine.”

“It’s the weekend.”

“There’s no food here.”

He hums. “But we’re so comfortable.”

She gives a soft sigh. “I didn’t want to have to do this.”

“Oh?" 

She rolls onto her side, so she’s facing him directly. 

”En ánats,“ she says, slowly and carefully. ”En—eit araanai. Esti an…kahve-ci?“

I’m hungry. I'm—it’s breakfast. Do you want some coffee.

His eyes go wide. He can’t stop the smile coming back over his face.

”Ask me again, my darling.“

"Oh, come on—” She gives him a look, though it’s not quite enough to conceal the fondness in her voice. “I know you heard me.”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” he says, grinning like a fool. “There’s never been a human who spoke our language before—”

“En mathi.” I’m learning. “Even if I’ve got a horrible teacher. A handsome, horrible, no-good very bad teacher, who’s keeping me trapped in bed, on a Sunday, just so he can leech off my precious human warmth—”

“I’m not trapping you!”

“I’m going to starve, Walt. En ánats!” She gives him a pitiful face, even as he’s laughing into the pillow. “Come on, Walt. Oh, how d'you say it—viti?”

Please?

Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought to hear that word, in his language, coming from her.

But. Well. When asked with such tenderness, how can he refuse?

“Tell you what,” he says. “I’ll make you coffee. To show that I’m not just interested in your delightful endothermic qualities.”

“Tell me that’s you giving in.” She makes a wistful face. “I definitely heard kahve in there. And something about—humans?”

“Indeed. Clever darling heart.” He reaches out again, to take her hand. “But you’ll have to give me the instructions.”

“What.”

“The unused knife dulls quickest.”

“Oh, God. That was an idiom, wasn’t it.”

But she’s almost laughing, as she says it. And—well. Then, she’s slipping out of bed, and pulling his hand, and her touch is so gentle, so warm—

“At least let me have English 'til we get downstairs,” she’s saying. She could ask anything of him, he thinks, and it wouldn’t feel like any kind of concession, as long as she held his hand. “You still won’t teach me swearing, so I’ve gotta—surely I’ve earned some allowances, here.”

“Ah, my dear,” he says, as she pulls him out from under the covers. “I am nothing if not chivalrous.”

[dashesofink]

Of Flowers and Pain

Drabble: “One last request for Raymond and I’ll leave you alone for a bit! Can you do a fic and incorporate the Hanahaki disease? Kinda like an !au or smth like that. Your choice to make it happy or sad. Thanks on advance!”

Pairings: Raymond de Merville x Reader

Word Count: 2259

Warnings: mentions of blood

Main Taglist: @legolaslovely @c4ts4ndstuff @t00-many-th0ughts @fizzyxcustard

A/N: I think I might turn this into a two-parter request!! What do y’all think?? 

The pain that constantly bubbled in your throat and stomach was bad enough, but seeing the cause of your pain was almost too much to bare. People knew of the disease you had, as almost everyone in your village had experienced the damned thing by now. If not, they were destined to succumb to it eventually. It was difficult, coming up with ways to excuse yourself when he was constantly in your pub, hoping that you would make it out in time to vomit out the earthy build in your throat without him knowing. Each day the petals were a new color. Each day the thorns from their stems ravaged your throat. Each day the blood came out thicker. You knew if you didn’t tell him of your feelings you wouldn’t survive much longer. But the thought of him not loving you back was almost as painful as your disease, if not more. If he rejected you, rejected your feelings, surely you would die a slow and painful death. That was how the disease worked.

“You must tell him, y/n.” A gentle hand smoothed circles into your back. A hot, stabbing pain lining the muscles of your throat, tears trailing heavily down your cheeks as you watched the blood soaked flowers landed on the muddy ground with a splash. “My darling, please!” The hydrous blood splashed against your old boots when the last flower fell past your lips, your now red lips forming into a deep grimace.

“I cannot.” Your voice was hoarse, a loud cough bubbling in your throat and tearing at the fresh wounds as you doubled over again. No flowers came this time. “I fear he does not feel the same.” Your friend understood the dread that lingered in the pit of your stomach. You had expressed your fears of rejection to her many times, yet she still believed that there was a chance of the soldier returning your feelings for him. “I would rather continue with this pain then to die such as I migh.” She flinched when you shot her a stern glare, your hair falling into your face as you wiped the blood away from your lips. The red stained the sleeve of your tunic, yet you didn’t seem to care anymore.

“Y/n, please you must—“

“I don’t need to do anything like that.” You were stern in your ways. Death wasn’t something you feared. It was inevitable. But the choice you had to make was either death by flowers or death by rejection and then flowers. Neither sounded appealing, but you felt he wouldn’t feel the same. After all, you were just a lowly barmaid. Why would he love you? “What I need to do is get back to work.”

With one last pointed look you spun on your heel, the mud under your feet kicking up into the hem of your skirts before you stomped back to work. The air was thick and humid, and the mud under your feet continued to slosh and stick to your clothing as you hurried through the village and back to the pub. The closer you got the louder the pub grew, it’s current customers either already drunk or well on their way to being drunk. You hated working in the pub. But you didn’t have a choice. You weren’t born into royalty, nor did you family possess any large sums of money. It was either work as a barmaid or not work at all and not support your family. The later was something you tried to avoid at all costs.

“Aye, back from your little stroll, y/n?” The owner of the pub, Mathis, gave you a grim smile. He knew how the disease was affecting you, and he was gracious enough to let you leave whenever you felt the flowers burn your throat. You gave a small nod before snatching the old rag from his hands, and before you pushed your way behind the wooden counter he gave your shoulder a heavy pat. “He’s still here; back corner, to the left.” He warned low and close to your ear, his dark eyes trailing to said corner before he scurried off to deal with some rowdy customers.

Of course he’s still here. Luck would have it that the cause of your pain was still in the pub, a large tankard of ale in his strong hands as the men around him chattered about. You knew better than to look over to him. You already had to leave once today, who knew if you would have to leave twice in an hour to relieve your gut and throat of the burning flowers and blood. But you did. You kept your hands occupied by cleaning a few empty tankards as your eyes drifted to the corner in the left. Dark hair sat messy atop his head and fell against his forehead, his azure eyes scanning the crowd in the pub. Dirt was dusted across his skin, making the lines and scars that littered his hands and face seem darker than they should’ve been. Even tired and covered in dirt and grime he was handsome.

You watched as his fingers twitch and tighten around the wooden tankard. His thin lips were turned into a small scowl when one of his men bumped his shoulder, the ale in his cup sloshing around and over the rim of the cup. While usually he would’ve gotten up to punish the man who disturbed him, he remained seated, only bringing the now half-empty tankard to his lips to guzzle his beverage. He set the tankard on to the table with a slam, swiping his hand over his lips before he turned to the man next to him. It was then that you tore your gaze from him. You couldn’t bare to watch him any longer.

“Still pining after Raymond, I see!” Your blood turned to ice when a shrill voice suddenly sounded throughout the pub. The chatter amongst the drunkards and other customers dwindled and eyes turned when a familiar face sauntered into view. “I’m surprised, y/n,” Thick curls bounced around her round cheeks, her bright red lips turned into an evil smirk while she swayed her hips. Your eyes blew wide the closer she got to the bar, and if it wasn’t for the counter in front of you the tankard in your fingers would’ve fallen smack into the floor. The sound of your name seemed to echoed off of the wooden walls in the pub, and suddenly dozens of eyes were looking to you, watching as your face grew pale. “Thought you would’ve made it known by now.”

“Esmée, please.” Your lips began to tremble when she came to a stop in front of you, only the wooden counter separating you from her. She leaned in close, smacking her lips after chuckling at the terrified look in your eyes. She no longer had the disease. A painful surgery was the only thing— aside from your love admitting to loving you back— that could remove it, but that surgery was costly, and only her family seemed to have the money for it. You hated the way she flaunted it, showed off that she no longer had to suffer through flowers and blood. “You don’t need to do this.”

“Oh I know, sweetheart.” Esmée’s manicured fingers reaches forward to brush some hair behind your ear. She pulled away almost immediately after dragging her nails across your skin in a taunting manner. Your heart was racing when she turned away from you, your hands trembling with horror when you saw where she had locked her gaze; Raymond. Her hips swayed tauntingly as she neared him, pushing past the drunks the crowded the pub. Your eyes blew wide and suddenly you were moving forward, hands desperately reaching to grab her. However you suddenly found yourself being held back, the strong grip of a soldier holding you in place.

“No, let me go!” Your terror filled eyes locked with the battle-worn soldiers. He kept his grip firm. You continued to struggle even when you turned away from him, your eyes suddenly meeting a pair of piercing blue ones. You froze again. Raymond had been watching the entire scene, eyes filled with curiosity as he kept a tight grip on his tankard. You paled again, keeping your eyes locked with his for a moment longer before he looked to Esmée. You felt your knees knock together when she sat upon his lap, her arm thrown over his neck as she traced circles on to his chest. You suddenly felt sick. A familiar liquid bubbled in your gut, your eyes blowing wide again when a burning sensation grew in your throat. No. Not again!

Your not sure what came over you, but your foot slammed down on to the soldiers foot hard and fast. A single yell of pain echoed throughout the watching pub, eyes turning to you once again to see you drive your elbow into the nose of the soldier. The pain in your throat was growing. You snapped your lips shut to try and hold off the vomit for as long as possible, your hand slapping over your mouth like a barricade. Tears filled your eyes when you looked back to Raymond and Esmée, her lips just brushing over his ear as she paused to watch you. His eyes flashed with something unrecognizable for a moment, his lips pursed together as he watched you struggle. It wasn’t until your locked eyes with Esmée did you turn, seeing the horrid look of evil in her brown eyes.

Your footsteps reverberated through the pub as you slammed the door open, blood beginning to spill past your pale lips and coating your fingers and palm as you gagged. You ignored the calls for you. The biting pain in your throat was almost too much, the hand over your mouth just barely holding back the flowers as you rushed away from the pub and through the village. Another gag fell past your lips and tears flowed down your cheeks due to the pain that coursed through your throat and gut, your body jolting forward before your feet slipped on the slick mud. Ugly, red-stained flowers spilled out of your mouth. Your body was covered in mud the minute you fell to the ground, your hands clenching into fists as your worst nightmare came true. The village people watched as your succumbed to the disease. Your throat burned as the flowers continued to blossom in your body, coating themselves with sharp thorns and your blood before mixing with the mud on the ground.

It felt like an eternity before your throat was empty again. A large pile of flowers and vicious blood was in front of you, your eyes wide with fear and agony. It was getting worse. Laughter soon pushed through the buzzing in your ears. You recognized the laugh. Your hands shook as you tried to push yourself up, your legs shaking as your body tried to heal itself from the pain and the newer wounds in your throat. You kept your eyes low as you stood to your full height, looking at the disgusting brown and red stains that soaked through your tunic and skirts. The mud that coated your face, arms and hands made you feel even more gross now that blood was added into the mixture. The bloodied flowers were ugly and gross, melting into the mud. Must I always live like this?

“Aw, poor thing.” Esmée’s voice made you snap your bloodshot eyes in her direction. Her whole body was shaking with laughter, and the pain in your body only grew when you saw that most of the people from the pub were as well. “It was only a matter of time before you made a fool of yourself.” You looked down again. Your body ached all over. From the pain in your throat to the throbbing of your head, even down to the fear and pain that clenched your heart in its tight fists. You tried to tune out the laughter, you tried to ignore the staring eyes as you stood in public, skirts covered in blood and mud and your emotions piled on to the floor. But you could still hear her taunts. “... isn’t that right Raymond?”

You couldn’t bear it anymore. Sobs racked your already trembling figure. With what little strength you had left in you you spun on your heels, kicking up the ugly reminder of flowers and blood that he would never be his. A cry of agony bubbled in your torn up throat. Your eyes were blurry as you cast one last glance in Esmée’s direction, but to your surprise you met blue eyes instead brown. Though his face was stoic and unwavering, Raymond’s wide eyes swam with emotion, his lips parted in disbelief. You almost paused when he went to say something, hoping to hear what he had to say, but he snapped his mouth shut.

You blamed it on the sharp pain in your body and your blurry eyes, but even as you turned away you thought you saw him move to you, but surely it was only your imagination. He didn’t love you like you did him. You two weren’t meant to be together, you knew that. But still, even as you ran away from the crowd, away from him, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe there was a chance of you finally having a cure from your disease.

[nillegible]

All the best of luck with your thesis!!! I am currently writing mine too! So I know the stress! Let's hope we will both be done soon and they will be all we want them to be. All the very best again, make sure to hydrate and take small breaks and keep your thesis advisor in the loop. Lots of hugs!!! And I wait patiently for your next update!!💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

Oh, thank you so much, Mega-mathi! You're so incredibly sweet. I hope you do really well with your thesis, too! It's just so exhausting. But I'm sure we'll get through. Take care of yourself!

(And hey, um. When you're free, and if you'd like, drop me a fic request? Obviously it'll take me ages to get to it, but I'd love to write you a fic when I find time! ❤)

[guessimaclotpole]

If someone told me this time last year that I would have done the many things I have in 2018, I would have genuinely laughed off my female presenting nips.

Well, I guess 2018 was a bizzare little year full of wonderful moments and not so wonderful challenges. There have been missed opportunities which I have kicked myself for, and there have been things I have had to give up because of my health, but the good outweighs the bad.

I passed my PGCE after months of stress with the amazing help of those around me and we started working on getting the house the way we want it to look. I had an incredible summer which involved spending time with my friends and family and having lovely days out. I also got to go to York to see one of my favourite actors in a Shakespearean theatre.

I somehow managed to secure a place on a masters degree despite thinking I was incapable of such a level of critical thinking and I've had a lovely little few months celebrating my son's birthday and Christmas. I have made new friends, learned new things, got three new tattoos, a new piercing and to be honest, I think this is the first year, despite all that has gone sideways, that I can look back and say 'Actually, it wasn't really all that bad.'

Now it's New Year's Eve, and I've spent the last 36 hours or so in and out of sleep, vomiting and full of headache, but yanar what, at least I wasn't poorly on Christmas day for a change.

So here we are, and I'm making a post on tumblr and about to dedicate it to some wonderful friends. Back when Merlin was first aired on TV, a family member of mine watched it and I sort of tapped into bits and pieces and made a mental note to watch it. Then after something absolutely horrific happened to me in June, I was flicking through Netflix and there it was, forgotten about after 6 years.

I deleted my old tumblr back in 2013 and I found myself desperate to make an account again. I came across fanfiction, and more surprisingly I started writing my own. I also started drawing again, something which I never ever saw happening.

Not only is this because of the shoe itself, but because of an incredible group of friends. When I joined this site and tried to find my feet, @iamcaledonia became my first Fandom friend and what a friend she is. I have spoken to you about personal things, Fandom things, writing things, and I am grateful for it all. You have been wonderful to me and I don't ever intend on stopping reading your wonderful fics.

@das-alien-vom-planeten-wooh has become an invaluable part of my life. I don't think there has actually been a fully day where we haven't spoke to each other and I genuinely can not wait to meet you in May. Our Colin awaits!

I also want to shout out the absolutely amazing folk who welcomes me to Chatzy and who I consider to be the most wonderful of friends. I won't tag you all because I doubt tumblr will let me, but Plu, Fifty, Heather, Sparks, Devon, Polo, Elv, Venti, Sarah, Gabby, Moth, MK, AP, Nebula, Mist, Mathi, Lao, Cam, Wasp, Isaac, Penn, Aeris, Pecs, Raven, Lin, LFB, Merls and all of you who come and go and do the rewatch. I owe all of you so very much and I am ever grateful for your friendship. You guys have given me confidence and happiness and a time when I so badly needed it so thank you thank you thank you. ❤️❤️❤️

So here's to a 2019 that will (hopefully) be full of learning newer things, reading more books, writing more fic, creating more music, doing more decorating and just generally enjoying life. Now if we could just have a summer like last year's that'd be fab. 👌🌞

[hearts-hunger]

Just kidding, can’t wait - Ink, diary, novella, pulitzer, characterization, carnegie, faulkner, playlist, trope, houghton

um yes hello i love you, thank you for asking, i wrote you a whole essay my gosh sorry

ink: what do you do to “set the mood” when writing? 

i’m honestly very extra™ when it comes to setting the mood, at least in certain ways. for example, with this soft queen fic i’m working on now, the setting is a train so i found an hour-long loop of train-car-interior sounds to play on top of the soft jazz playlist i had on. sounds are really helpful to get me into the headspace of my fic, so i do the same kind of thing with rain sounds if it’s raining in my fic or crackling fire sounds if my characters are being cozy in front of the fireplace. i like to get into my fic as if it were a movie, and since all of my “Y/N” characters are secretly me (surprise surprise) i like to interact with my fics as intimately as possible because let’s be real, i’m living vicariously through them.

diary: how many pieces have you written that are just for you or will never see the light of day?

lord, i have quite a few fics that are for my eyes only. mostly because they’re very niche interest, very poorly written, very self-indulgent, or all three. i also have unfinished ones that are begging me to finish them and post them, and some day one day they may see the light of day.

novella: do you prefer to write short stories, one-shots, or entire novels?

i think it’s easiest for me to write one-shots, so that’s what i write most often. they’re more kind of snapshots of a longer story, and in them i can get the parts that excite and interest me the most. the longest thing i’ve ever written is a beatles fanfic that ended up being 50 or so pages, but i didn’t finish it so my bragging rights are limited.

pulitzer: tell about/link a piece where you felt your writing was the best.

well, there’s one idea i had that i didn’t write for very much but i really loved it and i thought it was a compelling and interesting story. Jack, a young, talented, promising doctor who loses his medical license and is sent to jail for stealing and using hospital narcotics; when he’s released, he has no life for him at home and he can’t ever get his medical licence again; he decides to live in a small community in rural louisiana and volunteer at the small, run-down clinic. the worn-out nurses that work there quickly see that Jack has medical training and start asking him to treat patients, and despite his protests that he’s not a doctor any more, he can’t stand to see these people he’s coming to love suffer when he knows exactly what to do. so it’s this tension between wanting to do the right thing and knowing how to treat people but also not legally being allowed to do it and not having the resources he needs in such a rural community, and also the tension of the light and dark in him. it’s all very vague and i have no idea how it would work out but i just really liked the concept and Jack’s character.

characterization: describe your favorite character(s) you’ve written.

my favorite character that i have ever written is a twenty-something boy named Albert Addison Mathis. he’s blonde and shy and sweet and loves dogs and is a very loyal friend. if you’ve ever seen that prompt floating around where a character gets superpowers that they hate, like someone who can fly but who is terrified of heights, that’s what i wrote Albert for. i actually had a whole thing planned out and i love the other characters i wrote for that story too - Sebastian, Veronica, and Amelia all have a special place in my heart - but Albert was my favorite.

carnegie: what authors and/or books/stories have inspired you to write or influenced your work?

since i mostly write fanfiction, i have to include a huge thank you to the creators of the characters and stories that i write for. other fanfic authors who write such beautiful and compelling and fun stories (for free!) encourage me to invest in my own writing and challenge me to hone my craft and always try and write a better fic than i did before, as well as encourage me to write for the fun of it. @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl continually inspires me to write with her amazing ideas and tireless encouragement and selfless love (also, go check out her stuff on @word-babble immediately because her fics are my favorite fics in the history of ever). she’s the jonesy to my nelson and i would be lost without her. 

also, at the risk of annoying a writer that i admire the heck out of and who writes incredibly lovely stories whose depth of craft i would be lucky to even approach in my own writing, i’m tagging @strangeandwonderfulconcepts so you can go read all of her stuff, especially her bxrxr stories. 

faulkner: what tropes do you LOVE writing? which ones are your guilty pleasure?

my absolute favorite trope and guiltiest pleasure when it comes to writing is the “character A is embarrassed/nervous and continually apologizes for things they can’t help (like being sick, which is my all time favorite and most self-indulgent thing to write) and character B sweetly reminds them that they have nothing to be embarrassed about and nothing to be sorry for”. since i’m embarrassed and nervous for a living thanks to social anxiety, i like to mitigate that in projecting onto my nervous characters and having someone be sweet to them like i would love to have someone be with me.

playlist: what kind of music/songs help you write? do you have a writing playlist?

i listen to mostly instrumental music when i write! some of my current favorite playlists are spotify’s “jazz for autumn” and my very own “soft queen” playlist.

trope: what’s a pet peeve you have about writing?

this isn’t so much a pet peeve but something that causes me trouble, but writing for a deadline stresses me the heck out. i love writing for prompts and stuff like that, so i’ll bear those deadlines in order to have the fun of fulfilling someone’s request, but it’s also fairly agonizing to have writer’s block when you’re writing for an audience. but really, having people who like my writing enough to ask for more is well worth the stress of deadlines :)

houghton: what’s something you love that people compliment your pieces on?

i love it when people point of specific things they like about my writing! i treasure every single comment and ask i get about my work, and i’m a beaming, grinning mess when people tell me a specific line or scene that they really loved. 

[whitebear-ofthe-watertribe]

That Which Holds Us - Chapter 3

Pairing(s): Adrien / Marinette, Nino / Alya

Summary: It has been several months since Ladybug and Chat Noir discovered their true identities. Now that they are not trapped by secrets, they can finally be their full selves around each other and have never been closer. Marinette is going into her final year at university, Adrien is exploring new classes and passions, and their friends Alya and Nino seem to be moving towards a happy future together. It all feels like things could not be better.

But of course, nothing in life is quite so perfect.

When Adrien starts having vivid nightmares and visions about his mother, old questions begin to resurface. Will he be able to find the answers, or will these ghosts from the past tear apart the heroes of Paris for good?

Reminder, you can also read / follow this fic at AO3 here, and FF.net here.

Previous Chapters

Chapter Word Count: 5,028

Enjoy!!!

A refreshingly cool breeze swirled around Marinette as she made her way through campus. Bright patches of early morning sunlight streamed between the buildings. The only sounds that reached her were enthusiastic twitters from birds soaring around the trees overhead. Adjusting the fully stocked cardboard coffee tray in her hands, she took in a deep breath and grinned.

Today felt like it was going to be a good day.

She’d managed to stay true to the goal she’d shared with Chat Noir the night before; when her alarm had gone off, she’d actually gotten up with it. And even with showering and prepping for the day, she’d ended up with plenty of time to stop by the nearby café and place an order.

“Mar-bear!”

A familiar voice rang out, and looking around Marinette spotted Meesh hurrying towards her, her long dark mohawk trailing behind her in a thick braid.

“Meesh!” Marinette cried, letting out an “Oof!” as her friend barreled into her and wrapped her in a hug. “You’re here!”

“How have you been?” Meesh asked, releasing the hug but keeping her arm wrapped through Marinette’s as they continued on. “You’re here so early, this is so unlike you!”

“Hey! It’s a new year, might as well start off on the right foot,” Marinette laughed, removing one of the to-go cups from the coffee tray and holding it out. “And I’ve been great. How are you? How was the move?”

Meesh took the coffee gratefully and shrugged. “Hectic, but alright. I always hate leaving home – and I especially hate leaving Benjamin – but at least it’s only for one more year.”

“Where’s the new place?”

“In one of the neighborhoods on that hill behind the library. You and Alya need to come over soon, I’ll make you guys dinner!”

Marinette let out an excited hum at the thought of that. Meesh always brought large bags full of fresh Mexican spices, a gift from her uncle who ran his own company. Food from Meesh was to die for every time.

“I’ll let her know! She was asking about you last night.”

The two girls continued around the corner and their familiar studio building came into view. Marinette’s heart leapt at the sight; after spending countless hours working there over the last three years, it was thrilling to be back once more.

Climbing the stairwell and opening the door to the third floor, Meesh let out a soft, “Yes!” and held out her fist for Marinette to bump. “First ones here, first choice of desk!”

Marinette returned the fist bump, letting out a dramatic sigh.

“Oh, however will we choose?”

“Goodness me, I just don’t know!” Meesh exclaimed, walking over to the desk second from the corner window and dumping her bag on it without hesitation.

Marinette laughed, following her and placing her own things on the corner desk, the very same one which she’d claimed as her own the previous year. Turning to look out the window, she placed her hands on her hips and took in the beautiful view. If she was being truthful, it wasn’t unusual to see the campus below her as it was now, slowly filling with life and light as the many students began their day; however, it was more common for her to see it from drowsy eyes at the tail end of an all-nighter working. To watch this now feeling so refreshed and charged for the coming day felt very nice indeed.

Going back to Meesh, she grabbed a second large cup out of the coffee tray and perched herself on her stool. They chatted happily, discussing their ideas for the Senior Capstone they would be putting together in their last semester, and wondering what sorts of assignments awaited them in the coming months as their studio slowly filled with fellow classmates.

“Hello ladies,” someone said above the growing noise.

They swiveled their stools to see Marinette’s favorite instructor approaching them, dressed in elegant black as usual, only her jewelry glittering with color.

“Good morning, Madam Charbonneau,” Meesh greeted.

Marinette pulled a third coffee out of the tray and offered it.

“Did you have a good summer?”

“Thank you, my dear,” Charbonneau accepted the drink with a smile. “You’re too kind. I certainly had a busy summer, but yes it was very good. I hope you are both ready for an exciting final year?”

“Very,” Marinette said, while Meesh nodded enthusiastically.

“Excellent!” 

Charbonneau grinned, before moving off to greet a few other people.

As she turned back to Meesh to continue their conversation, a figure from across the room caught Marinette’s eye; Mathis was setting his bag down at his desk from the previous year. 

A twinge of unease passed through Marinette as memories of what he’d done to her months ago came rushing back.

After the fateful Akuma attack that had brought the Student Gala to its horrendous conclusion, everyone had treated the situation the same as all other attacks. Hawkmoth was the one behind everything, and those who were Akumatized were considered as much the victim as anyone else.

But even though Marinette supported this approach wholeheartedly, she still couldn’t help but despised Mathis; after all, everything he had done to sabotage her and other students leading up to the Gala had nothing to do with any supervillains.

Adrien had encouraged her to tell her instructors about all Mathis had done, but without any concrete proof, Marinette decided it wouldn’t do any good. And since he had gained sympathy for being Akumatized, she might’ve just come across as spiteful. So instead, she’d kept the truth to herself. 

Surprisingly, Mathis had abandoned his usual snide remarks and criticisms after she’d returned to school from the hospital. In fact, he’d made no efforts to interact with her at all. 

Thus she, in turn, refrained from acknowledging him, and life had gone on in peace.

As if sensing her thoughts towards him, Mathis looked up and locked eyes on her. 

Marinette held his gaze defiantly for a long moment before turning fully back to Meesh, who was in the middle of telling her about a family trip from that summer. Marinette smiled and nodded, as though she’d been listening the whole time. After a moment, she chanced a glance back at Mathis.

He had his back turned to her, and was pinning things up to the wall above his desk.

Taking a deep breath Marinette looked away from him again, deciding to just keep ignoring him as best she could for the rest of the year, before she would finally be free of him for good.

A tall man with shoulder-length brown hair pulled into a ponytail walked through the door just then. Spotting the two of them at their desks, he picked his way over to them, smiling.

“Alec!” Marinette called to him, standing and giving him a hug once he reached them. “How are you? It’s so good to see you!”

“It’s great to see you guys too!” he said, giving her a squeeze and then hugging Meesh in turn. Pulling a nearby stool over to a neighboring desk, he set his things down. “I’ve been great! I’ll miss sleeping in regularly, but it’s good to be back.”

Marinette laughed and nodded in agreement, offering him the fourth and final coffee from the tray, which he took enthusiastically. 

Alec was from America, and had been one of the top three winners with Meesh and herself at the Gala that previous semester. In the months that followed, they had gotten to know him more and Marinette now considered him a very dear friend.

They continued catching up as the noise level grew and the studio filled with familiar faces. Friends greeted friends who they hadn’t seen in months, and the atmosphere hummed with anticipation.

Finally, the instructors gathered on one side of the hall near the wide windows, and Charbonneau called for everyone’s attention.

“Welcome, students, welcome!” she addressed them with a nod and a smile as they gathered around to listen. “Welcome to your final year at the Academy! You all have come so far over these last few years, and have grown impressively as designers. This year, we plan to push you more than ever, to stretch you in new directions, and challenge your skills in preparation of launching you into the professional industry. We know what you all are capable of, and we want you to see it for yourselves.

“This semester, we will be doing something a little different,” she continued, taking hold of a small box that had been sitting on the desk beside her. It seemed to be full of slips of paper. “While it is often preferable to design on your own, there will be instances when you will have to work closely with another person, or even with a team of fellow designers, on an extensive project. So, for your midterm assignment, we will have you partnered up with a fellow classmate.”

A murmur of surprise rose from the students.  

“Are they serious?” Meesh hissed to Marinette. “It’s our final year! They can’t expect us to show our best skills on a team project!”

Marinette frowned and nodded. It had been a long time since she’d had to work on a serious assignment with a partner – or even in a group – and that had only ever been in a traditional classroom setting. She’d never actually designed with anyone else.

“I know for many of you this isn’t your first choice,” Charbonneau said loudly, reclaiming their attention. The whispers died down and they all looked back at her, albeit warily. “But sometimes in life, you can’t always choose to have everything go your way. Many of you will likely have to work under a lead designer, depending on the kind of job you strive towards after graduation. And in those situations, you will have to work closely under their vision. This exercise will give you a taste for collaboration, and allow you the opportunity to figure out how you best cooperate with a partner in a setting where the stakes aren’t as high.”

As much as Marinette wasn’t thrilled by this project, she had to admit that Charbonneau had a point.

“Can’t we choose our own partners, Madame Charbonneau?” asked a tall girl standing on Meesh’s other side.

“Unfortunately, you may not,” Charbonneau said, reaching into the box to shuffle the bits of paper around. Marinette realized the box must be filled with their names. “Just as much as you can’t always choose your professional situation, you won’t be able to choose who you work with. Collaborating on something with your best friend is one thing; collaborating with someone you have yet to get to know is another. Your midterm deliverables will be a collection of twelve pieces total. Come up with an inspired theme and develop your visions together. Explore one another’s strengths and weaknesses, figure out a dynamic that works to your team’s advantage. From this point on, you must work together as one.”

With that, she pulled out two of the slips and read them aloud. “Antony and Clarissa, you will be our first pair.”

The two students smiled nervously at one another. 

Marinette noticed most of her fellow classmates still looked a bit apprehensive. Peering around, she imagined that working with any one of these people wouldn’t be half bad. There was, of course, a range of talent, but everyone had something to bring to the table, and she could certainly learn a thing or two from whoever she was put with. This might not be such a bad assignment after all.

Charbonneau continued pulling names out of the box, and as they were called, the pairs were shuffling around to stand next to one another.

“Meesh and Alec? You two are together.”

Marinette felt a small pang of disappointment as her friends high-fived each other; either Meesh or Alec would have been her top choices for this project.

“Marinette...”

She turned her attention back to Charbonneau with anticipation.

“You and Mathis will be partners this semester.”

Meesh and Alec let out a collective gasp. Even a few other students looked around in surprise.

Marinette was rooted to the spot. She stared at Charbonneau, who glanced between her and Mathis, looking slightly concerned.

Mathis, who stood at the opposite side of the class turned his head towards her, and he looked just as shocked as she felt.

‘Mathis? Freaking Mathis?!’ Her stomach felt as if it had decided to exit her body via her feet. ‘No, absolutely not. There is no way.’ 

Well, there went her plans of ignoring him for the year.

Charbonneau continued to read the last few names. 

Marinette stared at nothing. Thoughts of shouting “No!”, of declaring she’d refused to work with him, of demanding a new partner raced across her mind. But she did none of these things, her tongue frozen and heavy in her mouth. 

Absently, she heard Charbonneau name off the last pairs, and declare that the rest of their studio time was to be spent collaborating on ideas and researching inspiration. They were allowed to leave the building if they wanted as long as they sent in an email update by the end of the day to show any progress they’d made.

The hall filled with chatter as people broke off to start working. 

Mathis didn’t move. 

Neither did Marinette. She watched him, but his face had gone blank. A hand suddenly wrapped around Marinette’s arm and she looked around to find Meesh pulling her back to their desks, Alec trailing behind them looking unsure.

“You need to talk to Charbonneau,” Meesh said, releasing Marinette and sitting on her stool. “After everything he did to you? There’s no way, no way you can work with him!”

“You think I want to?!” Marinette hissed back, sitting on her own stool and feeling a swell of anxiety twisting her stomach into knots. “I don’t want anything to do with him! But –”

“But nothing!” Meesh insisted. “He’s the worst! You’ll be dragged down for this entire project. C’mon, you know I’m right.”

“I mean yeah, this will suck,” Marinette conceded. “But… I just… well, if I don’t do it, someone else will have to. And isn’t it better that I already know all his manipulative tricks? I don’t want anyone else to suffer just because I didn’t want to deal with him.”

“You don’t always need to be the hero, Mar,” Alec said earnestly.

Marinette let out a snort at that, knowing he had no idea how close to home he’d just hit.

“You’re right, no one ever needs to be the hero, but it’s still the right thing to do isn’t it?” she countered.

“You’re too nice for your own good, Mar,” he said, shaking his head.

She bit her lip, feeling conflicted.

“I can see the headlines now,” Meesh said dramatically. “‘Sweetest Girl In All Of Paris Tries To Do The Right Thing, Ends Up Convicted of Second Degree Murder.’ Sources say she was driven to ultimate violence by the biggest prick this century has ever seen!”

Alec laughed.

Marinette rolled her eyes and was about to shoot back a retort when she heard her name.

“Marinette?”

Turning, she found Mathis approaching them from between the desks. Instantly her guard was up, prepared for whatever snide insults he was going to throw.

But after a moment, he sighed and pushed his hands into his pockets, looking uncomfortable.

“Well, it looks like we’re stuck with each other,” he said, the muscles in his jaw tense.

“Yeah… looks like it,” Marinette said slowly, crossing her arms over her chest. “And I don’t know what kind of sabotage you have in mind, Mathis, but I really don’t have time for –”

“I’m sorry,” he interjected suddenly.

Marinette frowned. 

“For what, exactly?” she asked.

Beside her, her friends were doing nothing to hide their eavesdropping. Alec was looking back and forth between them. Meesh was glaring daggers at Mathis.

“You’re right. There isn’t any time for mind-games or whatever. This is our last year here, and I just want to use it grow as a designer and gain more knowledge and skill.” He shifted his weight to one leg, but never broke eye contact. His voice had an earnesty to it that she’d never heard before, though from his mouth it sounded like every word of sincerity was its own torture. “I’m sorry for how last semester went down. I let my temper and old habits get the best of me, and you won that competition fairly.”

Marinette tilted her head. Confusion coursed through her. There was no way he was actually, genuinely apologizing… was he?

“Oh, come on!” Meesh burst out. “You can’t actually expect us to believe a single word you say!” 

Marinette looked over at her, and Meesh shook her head warningly.

“No, I didn’t really think you would,” Mathis said irritably, a hint of his usual drawl coming back into his voice. “But regardless of whether you believe me or not, I want to do well this semester. And if we must work as a team, it wouldn’t really do me any good to sabotage my own partner, would it?”

Marinette knew begrudgingly that he had a point. This was exactly how she imagined any one of them should behave in their situation. Though of course, all of this would require thinking rationally and behaving like an actual, honest human being; things which she’d never really considered Mathis capable of.

“Is there a problem?”

Marinette turned to see Madame Charbonneau watching their conversation, wearing a critical expression.

Mathis looked back at Marinette with an eyebrow raised, as if to say, ‘Is there a problem?’

Taking in a deep breath, Marinette was silent for a long moment, thinking hard. Finally, she let out a sigh and shook her head. 

“No, Madame. We’re fine.”

Meesh scoffed.

Madam Charbonneau was regarding them closely.

Marinette put on a reassuring smile and said, “It’ll be fine. For this project, we’ll make it work.”

“Very well. Please let me know if this becomes any more trouble.”

Charbonneau gave Marinette one last meaningful glance before turning to check on the other pairs of students scattered throughout the studio.

Marinette suddenly had a strong feeling that Charbonneau might understand a bit more about her situation with Mathis than she was letting on. Smiling slightly to herself with this knowledge, she turned back to Mathis and glared up at him.

“Alright, let’s not dance around this,” she said in clipped tones. “I don’t trust you. Not even a little bit. But I do trust that you are a good designer. We are stuck with each other for the time being, whether we like it or not. But we don’t need to be friends to make this work, we just need to want to make a good collection and find a way to get along with as little bloodshed as possible.”

Mathis regarded her, and she saw a flicker of amusement in his expression.

“Fair enough,” he said, offering his hand to her. “Begrudging partners?”

Marinette smirked before taking his hand and giving it one, firm shake.

“Begrudging partners.”

Mathis released her hand and made his way back to his desk to collect his bag.

Marinette watched him for a moment before turning to her own desk and gathering up her things. 

Meesh and Alec were still looking at her in surprise. 

She shrugged, a little defeated.

“It’s not like I have much choice,” she said.

Meesh sighed. Putting her hand on Marinette’s shoulders, she whispered, “Watch him like a damn hawk, Mar. If he tries to pull anything, let us know immediately. He’ll never know what hit him.”

Marinette smiled at her, grateful to have a friend like Meesh.

The rest of the morning was devoted to inspiration hunting and library research. Both she and Mathis gathered up armfuls of books about everything from historical architecture to sci-fi and space travel, and they claimed a large corner table in the library to pour over them.

They discussed the merits of merging raw, elemental designs with the concept of clean, futuristic lines. They also pondered different types of detailed embroidery, and pairing simple silhouettes with dramatic embellishments. 

Every now and then, Mathis would say something rude or insulting that more befitted his character as she knew him, and in those moments Marinette would have to practically sit on her hands to avoid slapping him across his face. But regardless, she had to admit that it was obvious he was actually trying.

Eventually, they found themselves producing sketches based on their themes, and agreed to keep creating concepts until they could meet again in person during their next studio time.

By the end of the long period, Marinette felt unusually exhausted. The emotional tension that came with being around Mathis for such a long time had worn her thin. On any other day, Marinette knew she would’ve stayed in studio to keep improving their initial designs. But almost unthinkingly, she found herself making her way towards the subway station and boarding a train.

Tikki risked poking her head out of Marinette’s bag to look up at her, curious.

Marinette glanced down and shrugged apologetically. 

“I know, I just needed to see our guys for a bit.”

Tikki grinned. 

“You don’t need to apologize to me, I understand. This morning was way rougher than you were expecting, huh?”

“Ugh, tell me about it.”

Their whispered conversation was cut short as more people boarded the train at the next stop. It wasn’t long before Marinette was climbing the steps back into the bright afternoon sunlight.

The Agreste studio offices were set up in one of the larger buildings that inhabited downtown. Inside the entrance hall, the air was cool and conditioned. 

Marinette’s footsteps clicked on the polished marble floor as she made her way past the receptionist desks. A couple of familiar people greeted her with nods and friendly smiles, and she hurried up the grand staircase to the floor where Adrien’s office lived.

She was always surprised by how lively this place was; where the Agreste mansion always felt so cold and solemn, this company buzzed with activity. People hurried past her with stacks of materials or large magazine layout boards. Racks of high couture garments were being wheeled in and out of rooms. Every now and then, Marinette caught sight of an interior photoshoot taking place, the bright lights glowing to rival the sunlight she’d just left outside.

Making her way down several long, bustling halls, she finally rounded the last corner, bringing Adrien’s office into view. The floor-to-ceiling glass walls were gently frosted lower down but became clearer and clearer above eye level. She could make out Adrien sitting at his desk with his back to her, gazing out the window where the city stretched before him. 

Opening the door, she realized he was on some sort of conference call, speaking into an earpiece.

“Well if we can get her on board for the winter line, I’d say we’re in pretty good shape,” he was saying.

Marinette quietly put her bag down on top of his own backpack that sat in one of his guest chairs – he must’ve gotten there from his own morning classes not long ago – then moved around his desk to turn his chair around towards her. 

Adrien gave a small start when he felt himself being moved, but shot her a broad smile when he saw her. 

Without saying a word, Marinette sat herself onto his lap, snuggling into his chest and burying her face in his neck. She felt him smile against her head as he wrapped his arms around her. 

Already, just being close to him was causing her anxieties of the morning to fade away a little.

“Tell her I will come to Toronto myself for a few days if that would make things easier,” he continued, not missing a beat. “She shoots dramatic outdoor lighting better than most, and her techniques would be perfect to show off this series.”

Marinette fiddled absently with one of his shirt’s pockets, sad at the thought of him gone for a few days, but pleased that he would be getting to travel. He always loved assignments that took him places.

“Alright, let me know what she says, and hopefully we can arrange something for October, yeah? Cool, talk to you soon. Bye.” Adrien reached a hand up to his ear and clicked off the earpiece. “Hey Bugaboo, what’s up?”

“Hey,” she said, her voice muffled a little by his shoulder. “Did your classes go well this morning?”

“Yeah, that photography class looks like it’s going to be amazing.” He gave her a gentle squeeze. “I’m guessing my morning went a little better than yours though, huh?”

Marinette groaned.

“You’re never going to believe this,” and she launched into a recap of the events in studio.

“Wait, Mathis?” Adrien exclaimed when she got to the part of the name drawing. “You have to be paired up with Mathis?!”

“Yup.”

“And you can’t get swapped with anyone else?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?!”

Marinette sighed, and explained how even though it would be uncomfortable, at least she knew what he was capable of.

“Uh, yeah? Exactly?” Adrien said angrily, shifting her off himself a little to look her in the eye. “Don’t you think you act heroically enough as it is without making your personal school life suffer too?”

“That’s kinda what Alec said,” Marinette sighed, rubbing her eyes wearily.

“He’s right, you know,” Adrien huffed. “Mar, this is the guy who put you in a coma. You shouldn’t be spending your time with him! It’s not safe.”

“Adrien, he’d been Akumatized,” she sighed. “He would’ve never been able to do what he did if it wasn’t for Hawkmoth –”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is that supposed to make it better?” he shot back. “Every choice he made up until being Akumatized was still all him.”

“Your right!” she countered. “Which is why I don’t want him working with anyone else! I mean who’s better to handle something like this than Ladybug, y’know?”

“So you’re just going to step in front of the train on the off-chance that no one else will have to?”

“Well, now you’re just making my arguments for me,” she teased.

Adrien opened his mouth again, clearly ready to argue further, but was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. 

Turning, they saw Gabriel Agreste standing in the doorway, looking just as stern as always. 

Marinette hurriedly climbed off Adrien and stood up straight. 

Adrien made no move other than to turn his chair slightly more towards his father.

“Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, what a pleasant surprise,” Gabriel said, his low voice cool and collected. “Adrien didn’t tell me you would be stopping by today, I would have made reservations for lunch.”

“Hello, Monsieur Agreste,” she said, smiling nervously. “Adrien didn’t know I was coming. I just decided spur of the moment to come and see him.”

“I can still call for a reservation if you’d like –”

“There’s no need, father,” Adrien cut him off.

Marinette glanced down at him and saw that his face had taken on the usual impassive façade she knew he saved primarily for interacting with Gabriel.

“Marinette was just checking in, she has to go to work here shortly.”

He looked up at her briefly, and Marinette instantly caught on to his plan of protecting them both from an extended social engagement.

“He’s right,” she said, adopting an apologetic air and moving to gather her bag off the chair. “I really must be going.”

“Before you leave,” Gabriel interjected, causing Marinette to freeze uncertainly on her way past him. “I have a small request to make of you.”

Marinette looked back at Adrien, who’s façade had cracked just enough to allow a small frown through.

“Oh? What sort of request?”

“You are in your final year at the Academy, is that correct?”

“Erm… yes, Monsieur?”

“Well, I will be hosting an event at my home at the end of the month. It is a sort of annual get-together for all my best business partners and designers. A ‘thank you for all your hard work’ party, if you will.”

Marinette tilted her head. She knew of this event; Adrien had told her about it in the past. But he’d also done his best to avoid returning to his old home. Ever since he became a legal adult and moved out on his own, he’d never gone to any of the events his father hosted there, no matter how “mandatory” they seemed.

“Some of the people there are looking for new, talented designers to join their teams in the coming year. Designers like yourself. I have already spoken to a few of them about the skills and professionalism you have demonstrated over the years. They would love to meet you in person.”

Marinette had thought all the big surprises for that day were over. But hearing that Gabriel had been talking her up to potential employers had her utterly floored. She stared at him, trying to figure out whether she’d heard correctly.

“Oh, my goodness, th-that is such an honor!” she sputtered, feeling her cheeks going red. “I-I had no idea you were… thank you so much!”

“Yes, well,” he said, offering her a small smile. “Adrien has always managed to find an excuse for why he cannot attend this annual party, but perhaps you can convince him that one night away from his duties won’t do any harm? Please, I insist.”

Marinette fought the urge to let out an incredulous snort. Hearing Adrien’s father of all people say that his son needed to forgo work to attend a party was the last thing she’d ever expected to hear in her life. She looked over at Adrien again, unsure of what to say. His father had cornered them quite successfully.

Adrien’s shoulders slumped a little in defeat.

“Erm, well… how can we, uh, refuse?” she said finally, turning back to Gabriel and smiling hesitantly.

‘Seriously… how?’

YOOOO!!! Guess who is the Actual Worst, coming at you with a brand spankin’ new chapter!!!

Honestly, I’m so sorry for the hiatus between updates. Let’s just say, depression is a real MoFo and for most of December and January when I had actual time to write, I wasn’t motivated. And then, February hit, I left my old soul-sucking job, and started working three new jobs all at once! Now I’m down to working two (thank God) with one of them being actual Graphic Design work, so that’s awesome! And! I’m planning on moving into a new apartment with some awesome friends here in a couple months, so that’s great. I may be crazy busy, but I’m finally feeling happy and energized and like my old self once again!

Anyways, I am thrilled to be writing more, and I already have most of Chapter 4 written! I need to add in a few things and then do an editing read-through, but I’m planning on posting that here in the next few days at least.

Also!!! I want to give a HUGE THANK YOU to everyone who has been commenting on this fic, giving it Kudos on AO3, and sending me all those wonderful messages! YOU GUYS ARE THE REAL MVP HERE!! Reading the amazing, positive things you had to say was so encouraging and motivating, I don’t know how I would’ve gotten back into the swing of things without you all! So thank you, thank you, a million times over!!!

[stillthewordgirl]

LOT/CC fic: The Moment That Your Lips Meet Mine

Well, @larielromeniel said I was going to have to write the CaptainCanary morning make-out scene I referred to near the beginning of Chances Are 5.

So I did. (Also, thanks to her for the beta!)

Can also be read here at AO3. (FF.net is being cranky at the moment.)

FYI, the title of that story, its chapter heads, and the title of this story all come from "Chances Are" by Johnny Mathis, a song from ... 1958. ;)

Morning comes awfully quick.

Sara, curled up under the covers and warm and cozy with the benefit of two people's body heat, mutters to herself as she feels Leonard start to pull away from her, trying momentarily to tighten her grip on him. She almost thinks she hears a chuckle in response, but he still pulls inexorably away, withdrawing and getting to his feet, letting a very annoying draft into the blankets.

Sara grabs the covers and pulls them close again. That time, she definitely hears a chuckle.

Snuggled in there, she listens as he crosses to the bathroom and shuts the door. Then there's the sound of water running.

Sara closes her eyes.

"Of course."

After she'd whispered that to him last night, they'd stayed close, lying there in each other's arms, heartbeats slowing, breath growing a little less ragged.

"I'm sorry," he'd murmured after a while, just as she was starting to drift off to sleep.

Sara had yawned. "Why?" she'd asked sleepily, moving her head a little so her lips just brush his collarbone, noticing his small shudder as they do so. (Although it doesn't seem to be a bad one.)

"For…" She feels him shrug. "For…stopping. It's not…it's not that I didn't want…"

"Len…" Sara tilts her head back. "I know. OK? I could tell." She smiles, knowing he can feel her smile. "There are certain tell-tale signs…"

That does get a chuckle. One of his hands drifts back up her back and, damn, if they couldn't start the whole thing again, no matter how tired they are.

But they don't. They fall asleep in each other's arms, and don't stir until Leonard's self-imposed time to get up. The man has a ridiculously good inner clock. Sara yawns again, listening to the sound of the sink and then the shower, then sighs, dragging the covers back and getting to her feet.

Heh. Her shirt is still unbuttoned. She considers it, then shrugs, heading for the sink and reaching for her toothbrush.

She's just running a comb through her hair, yawning again, when Leonard emerges from the inner bathroom, with nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips, stopping dead when he sees her standing right there.

It would take a stronger person than her not to stare. Sara licks her lips, indulging that impulse for a moment before glancing away. He is, just as expected, the exact level of brawny she prefers, lean muscle without bulk, that delicious "V" of his hips and lower abdomen vanishing into the towel, the idea of lean strength without anything over the top.

Even the black hairs on his chest are mixed with just enough gray to be interesting.

She's staring again. But, oh, it's such a nice view.

The scars are even more obvious in the stronger light, of course. Beyond a brief glance, she barely notices them. Hell, the scars from the wounds that killed her are probably obvious there on her abdomen, with her unbuttoned top. People like them have scars. No matter.

After a moment, Leonard clears his throat, and she drags her gaze back to his face, suddenly a little embarrassed by the shameless gawking. But there's actually a small smirk on his lips, amusement in his eyes, and she guesses he realizes perfectly well that they've moved beyond caring about scars. About lots of things, really.

"Enjoying the view?" he drawls after a moment, reaching to tuck the towel around himself a little more securely, but seemingly unbothered.

Oh, so he's comfortable enough to return to flirting, is he? "It's a nice view," she says casually in response, turning to lean against the outer bathroom counter. "And are you?"

His eyebrows go up. "Enjoying the view?" His eyes slowly travel from her face down to the open collar of her shirt, then farther down, slowly, between the valley visible between her breasts as the shirt hangs open, down to the muscles of her abdomen and the faint scars. "Indubitably."

Goddamn that voice, especially when it gets all smoky and intense like that. And just when her libido had finally started to calm down from earlier, too. Sara shifts a little as he starts to saunter toward her, eyes traveling (again, slowly) back up the path to her face.

It's a measure of how things have changed that he very purposefully stops inside her personal space, eyes studying hers, expression enigmatic. And, yeah, Sara's libido is now very definitely making loud, drunken whoops of encouragement at that closeness.

"I meant what I said," he comments after a moment, leaning forward to put his hands very deliberately on the counter on either side of her. They're barely touching, but they're barely touching all over, and Sara can feel her breathing speeding up again.

"What part?" she whispers, amused at how husky her own voice sounds.

"That it wasn't that I didn't…want." He's looking up through those lashes again, and that voice, and…argh. "And that, in time…"

"Ah." Sara tries to distract herself by wondering where that little half-moon scar right over his breastbone came from. "I believe you." She reaches up to run her fingers over it…realizing as skin touches skin that she's made a serious mistake.

Leonard's eyes flicker, desire and something deeper mingled. Well, at least he seems to be as affected as she is.

"Well," he whispers, leaning yet closer. "Let me prove it to you."

Sara's been kissed many times. She's been kissed by people she likes, people she's attracted to. She's been fortunate enough to be kissed by people she loves, and to have kissed them in return.

None of those kisses were anything like this one.

He tastes, faintly, of the mint of their toothpaste, cool and sweet, and Sara gives in immediately, making a noise somewhere between a sigh and a growl, opening her mouth promptly under his, encouraging him onward. He takes that encouragement, moving forward and pressing her back against the counter, hands moving to her hips and holding her steady as her own hands move up and curve around his back, his shoulders, pressing him closer too.

He's still warm from the shower, and faintly damp, and damn if the clean scent of the hotel-room soap isn't the sexiest cologne ever right now. Sara gasps as Leonard breaks the kiss suddenly, moving his mouth to the line of her jaw, the hinge of her jaw, her neck, and clings to him as he moves his arms and hands down and boosts her just a little up against the counter.

Well, it takes two. She promptly wraps her legs around him, marveling that that damned towel is still there, and grabs his face with her hands as he moves his mouth back to hers.

She's not sure how long they make out like that against the counter; it feels like both a few moments and an eternity. And who knows where it might have gone eventually, but a loud noise (and raised voices) from the room next door make them both jump, recollect where and when they are, and part infinitesimally to stare at each other.

Leonard, the unflappable, looks…flapped. Well and truly flapped. Sara can't help smirking as he shakes his head roughly, as if trying to recollect himself. She moves her hands to his shoulders, cognizant that the moment has passed but still relishing the closeness.

After a minute, he looks back into her eyes, a smirk of his own hovering around the corners of his mouth.

"I…" he says after a moment, eyes still dark, pupils shot, "…didn't really mean that to get so out of hand."

Sara laughs a little. "Well," she says lightly, removing her hands and putting them back on the counter. "It's good to know I'm not the only one capable of getting…a little too caught up."

"Hmmm." After another moment, Leonard sighs, then steps back, putting space between them again.

"I…" he says again, then stops.

"It's OK." Sara smiles at him, trying to convey sincerity even though her body wants him back here right now, damn it. "I just need a cold shower. And, how convenient…" She waves a hand at the door. "…there's one right there."

Leonard's lips twitch as he crosses his arms. "I'd suggest that I join you, but that would certainly defeat the purpose."

Sara groans. "And you need to stop saying things like that," she tells him sternly, straightening and turning for the shower, smiling at his low ripple of laughter.

But, she figures, turnabout is fair play.

Leonard dodges, a little, as Sara's shirt comes sailing across the space toward him, putting up a hand to snag the silky bit of material out of the air. Turning it in his hands, he watches her saunter, topless, toward the inner bathroom, giving him one more smirk before vanishing therein.

"Time," he murmurs to himself, taking a steadying breath and trying to remind himself why that's a good idea. "Right. So long as we get to make up…for lost time."

[yuesai]

5 Things Tag

tagged by @lukastrent​, not sure why you would want to know these things about me, but nonetheless, here we go!

5 Things you’ll find in my bag:

A notebook for sudden bunnies

Pens

Wallet

Keys

Ah... a lot of loose change

5 Things you’ll find in my bedroom:

A lot of beautiful fanart bought from cons and redbubble

Large stack of notebooks filled with bunnies and notes

Electric wax candles (because I cannot be trusted with real ones)

Some dogs and hopefully a cat

Ah... lego fairy Batman figurine

5 Things I want to do in life:

Wow, what a loaded question...

First and foremost make people happy without the expense of my own happiness

Travel and meet all my online friends that live far away

One day own a waterfront house where I can scull in the mornings or evenings

Write a novel (don’t need to publish it but just for once finish an original work of mine)

Own an Irish Wolfhound, or a Scottish Fold when I finally live on my own

5 Things I’m Currently Into:

DCU

This is Us

Hannibal

X-Men

 Markiplier

5 Things on my to-do list:

SBB fic! (and a lot of other WIPs)

Improve writing skills

Improve ukulele skills

Look for field work

Get another job that pays (I enjoy volunteering but I need to start saving for things)

5 Things people may not know about me:

Uh... well I’m normally not one to hide things but things you may not know about me, Kitty:

I am a Hufflepuff at heart (& team Instinct), but an overall Potterhead. Harry Potter was my gateway to fanfic, and I went to see the off Broadway show, “Potted Potter”. I also won a free book for answering a Harry Potter question right by a guy who writes theories on Harry Potter because I went to that lecture. Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Also, my new bed sheets is the Hogwarts’ crest, and I have a Ravenclaw pillow.

I have an unhealthy obsession with owls. For example, when I first went on my college tour, I immediately saw the owl mascot and told my mom, “I’m sold. I’m going here.” “Sai, you shouldn’t choose a college because owls.” “Don’t care. I’m going.” And here I am, with an owl as my mascot. I didn’t place this in things in my room, but I have a lot of owl things in my room like a huge portrait, and Hedwig (one of several stuffed animal owls I have), and owl figurines, it’s bad. Also my purse is an owl made out of buttons. I love it.

I first got into DC through the Justice League Animated shows. My mom only allowed me one hour of TV on school days, and I say school days because weekends my mom slept in and I could therefore sneak into the living room and watch all the Sunday morning cartoons. So for that one hour, I watched the one hour block of Justice League. I loved it that much. If it was a repeat, I watched Teen Titans which I believe came after Justice League, but that’s how I fell in love with DC and why it’ll always hold a special place in my heart.

I also got into reading comic books and reading manga because of the pictures, and it took me a while to learn how to read. I was very hearing impaired when I was younger. I’ve had surgery so I’m better now, but I grew up with hearing aids that just had constant static. Also, I was adopted at a much later age than other children and thus began learning English at a later age than my peers. So I fell in love with comic books for their pictures. I could make up the story as I went.

I started writing about the age of six or seven. My mom had an old laptop and gave it to me which I used to write all my stories. I mostly wrote epic fantasy or twisted fairy tales. I remember scarring my first grade (I believe) teachers by writing a twisted, bloody version of Cinderella clashed with Charlotte’s Web. We also had to write and illustrate a book once for Parent Teacher night, and apparently mine made mothers cry (started breaking hearts at a young age, I guess). Nonetheless, I’ve been writing for a while. You’d think I’d be better at it now seeing how early I started but... Nonetheless, that’s where I started and hopefully will continue going.

And that’s all she wrote, folks! Thanks for tagging me, Kitty! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed reading yours.

Tagging: Hmmm... Let’s go with Yami, @yamad-a! SDS, @scumashslanderson! Sunshine, @subatlove! Momo, @glasshalfdruunk! Yo beautiful lovely person, @judette-mathis, how are you? Also, anyone else that’d like to do it, feel free to! I’d love to read any of your responses to any of the above. Thanks again, Kitty, and take care!