#writing those little comments was the only thing keeping me sane

[berrysquared]

Welcome to YJH Fail Gallery, also known as me trying and failing to draw Yoo Joonghyuk for a month straight

tag your favorite yjh fail below, im pitting them against each other now

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

nymph. [part 4] l General Marcus Acacius

Summary:  you have been with him for a long time, but he has never seen you. but everything has changed.

Warnings:  +18, smut, fluff, maybe a little bit of angst, gods and mythology are treated in a simple way

A/N: part 4. I secretly hope you'll be gentle with me. I'm very curious about what your thoughts will be after this chapter. Please remember that I'd love to hear your comments and ideas. And especially when it comes to the ending of this part… I'll leave you alone now. I send you all my love.

I hope you will be gentle with me. your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

nymph [masterlist]

"She's not from here."

Marcus raised his eyes and followed his old friend's gaze. They could see your silhouette between the trees. It was a beautiful, sunny day and you and Melitta were spending it in the garden. 

The young girl had become your companion, although Marcus had often noticed the embarrassment and delight in her eyes almost simultaneously when she looked at you.

"No, she's not," he confirmed. "But would you believe me if I told you?"

Brutus smiled, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening. "I'm old enough to believe anything." he said. "But please, Marcus. Don't tell me things you should keep to yourself. Here," he pointed to the General's broad chest. "Everything is safer here."

Brutus' gray eyes wandered back to the garden. He had known Marcus when he was a child, his father had been Brutus' friend, and after his death he had surrounded the young man with care. He had never seen a woman in his house before, and he certainly didn't know of any that Acacius would look at in such a way.

"You love her." He said.

He didn't have to ask. He was at an age where certain things were simply obvious to him. Like this.

"I do." Marcus sighed. "More than anything."

"That's good. You can't fight the whole world without someone close to you. But she's not from here. Is she free?"

Marcus's eyebrows drew together. "I didn't take her as a concubine or a slave. She's free, more than any of us."

"Her family?" he saw a shadow in Acacius's gaze. "I see. Don't explain it, Marcus. She shouldn't appear among people without a background. Let's think..."

A warm wind blew through the window, playing with the delicate curtains, carrying with it the sweet scent of flowers. Brutus took a sip of wine and cleared his throat.

"You should say that her parents died when she was still a child. It would be safest." he said, and Marcus fixed his gaze on him, listening carefully. "Later, some distant family member took care of her. It wasn't a significant family. You met and fell in love, simply. Don't mention her origins, don't pay attention to her. Some may gossip about you, but it will quickly die down."

"I'm not afraid of gossip, only of her safety." Acacius replied. "I am the General, and I'm afraid that I won't be able to ensure the safety of the one I love."

Brutus nodded his gray head in understanding. "The gods must be favorable to you if you found each other in this vast world. It's a good sign."

And he really hoped that his friend was right.

A dozen or so days at Marcus' house passed quickly. You didn't find boredom there. Melitta accompanied you every day, slowly becoming a close friend. 

Antigonus, on the other hand, strived to ensure that all your requests, or at least those that General Acacius agreed to, were fulfilled. So although he sometimes grumbled something under his breath, he let you sit for hours in a room full of maps and writings, which you looked through, and then in the evenings you asked Marcus about them.

His duties to the Emperor and Rome didn't allow him to spend as much time with you as he would have liked, but the thought that he was coming back to you was something that kept him sane. 

Never before had this house been filled with such conversations and feelings. Never before had he felt as if he was hiding the most precious treasure. You.

"If you knew the true faces of the gods, your eyes would turn white." You said one evening, turning in the sheets. The glow of the candles danced on your bare back, and your hair was in a sweet mess. "All those carvings in the temples, the paintings - poof! - nonsense. None of you have seen the true wrath of Mars or Jupiter. You have not experienced the grace of Venus."

"So what lies next to me if not a gift from Venus?" Marcus asked, leaning down and placing a kiss somewhere between your shoulder blades. "Or Mars? I thought I was the favorite of the gods?"

"Sometimes you are too sure of yourself, General." You replied sarcastically, but you sighed quietly when his hand tightened on your buttock. "The gods have their favorites, but that doesn't mean they can't get bored with them."

"I don't care." His hands grabbed your hips and quickly turned you around, your laughter filling the darkened chamber. "As long as I have you in my hands, I am not afraid of the wrath of the gods. You are my redemption."

A hand tenderly stroked his cheek, fingers slipping into the curly hair among which you could see silver threads. "Don't treat me like one of them, my beloved... I'm not worthy of this."

The brown eyes that were staring at you, however, said something else. Adoration and delight radiated from his insides.

"To me, you are above them all." he replied, spreading your thighs with his hand and placing himself between them. "I want to adore you every day. Praise the day when my eyes saw you for the first time. Fight for you, conquer for you, live for you."

"Marcus..."

His hard cock slid into you without a problem, all the way to the base. Still slippery, full of his seed. You had made love just a moment earlier, like almost every night. Almost, because you also appreciated those moments when you could just fall asleep in each other's arms, feeling the closeness of your bodies, feeling the steady beating of your hearts.

"I will adore and worship you." his voice was low, he whispered to you as if he was praying "Your body is a temple, your sweet moans are songs of praise..." you sighed feeling him move inside you, you tightened your fingers on his strong shoulders "I was a mere mortal when your grace fell upon me. You were the one who decided to stay with me, now I will give you all of myself."

Hot lips kissed your neck as Marcus thrust into you with increasing force. You already knew perfectly well his endless hunger for you, so you gave him what he needed.

Acacius was a generous lover. He gave you pleasure in every way he knew, and you fell apart in his hands, intoxicated by this feeling. 

You never thought before that bodies could fit together so well, complement each other so much and give each other small deaths, while feeling that they were more alive than ever before.

"I love you..." his hot whisper reached your ears, you wrapped your arms around his neck, slid your hands into his soft hair "More than life, more than anything I know."

He hit exactly that spot, you couldn't say a word, catching your breath. His hot, sweaty body was pressing down on you lightly, but it didn't matter. Soon the pleasure spread through your body, all your senses and heart froze. 

Marcus felt your delicate walls squeeze his cock, but he didn't stop. His prayers had to be finished. He lifted himself on his shoulders, eyes swept over your sweaty cleavage and breasts, wandering to the place where you were connected. He disappeared inside you a few more times, and then a deep moan escaped his throat as his seed spurted into you, filling you up again.

Tender hands touched his face again, pulling him into a kiss. Soft lips that he never wanted to leave, arms that were supposed to embrace him forever. The woman who was supposed to love him for eternity.

When Marcus told you that morning that you could go out with him and see Rome, your eyes widened with delight. You had been begging him to let you see the city for a long time, although you understood perfectly well why he refused to do so. Every decision had to be thought out, every move planned.

"We'll visit Brutus, it's nothing interesting." he said, but the smile didn't leave his lips when he saw the glint in your eyes.

Melitta had been trying to help you dress for several minutes, but you were so excited that you couldn't stand still.

"My lady." she sighed. "The sun will set before you cross the threshold. Please..."

"I know, I know..." you repeated once again "It's just so, so exciting."

"Rome is beautiful." Melitta draped the material over your shoulder "You'll like it. Although I prefer forests and meadows... Bathed in the morning light, with the grass still covered in dew."

You tightened your fingers lightly on her arm. "I'll take you there, I promise." you said quietly "Soon."

The door creaked and you both jumped as General Acacius appeared before you. Even though he wasn't wearing armor, he still looked dignified. He smiled at the sight of you and nodded towards Melitta.

"Is everything ready?"

"Yes, my lord." she said curtsying.

"You did well." he praised her "You look wonderful, my love. I have something for you."

He took your hand and carefully slid a gold ring with an emerald stone onto your finger. He pressed his lips to your knuckles.

"It's for your safety." He explained seeing your questioning look. "Anyone who sees this ring will know who you..."

"...belong to." You finished for him.

He kissed your hand again and covered it with his. He wanted to avoid saying those words, but at the same time he wanted them. He wanted to know that you were only his.

Your eyes darted from one face to another, from one fruit stand to the beautifully dressed people you saw leaving the building. Conversations, laughter, the sound of horses' hooves, children running around. You had never been in a place like this before.

Marcus was close to you the whole time, observing your every move and gesture, noticing every smile and delight in your eyes. For a moment he regretted that he didn't see it all the same way you did. 

Years of fighting wars, talking to politicians, worrying about the fate of the country, had made him feel tired and numb. To everything, except you.

"Thank you, beautiful lady! May the gods bless you!" a hoarse voice rang out behind him.

It was only then that he noticed that you had escaped his eyes. Something or someone caught your attention. An older man, in a tattered robe, who was sitting against the wall begging for alms. The closer to the gladiator fights, the more of them appeared in the city, of all ages, sexes, and in various states of health.

Something flashed in the man's dirty hand and Acacius realized that you had given him one of your rings. Not the one he had given you that morning, some other one. He felt a warm surge of affection for you, because he had already forgotten what or who you were before, that you thought differently than those he knew.

A strong hand gently grabbed your arm. "We should go."

You nodded and obediently followed Marcus.

"The Emperor expects your presence during the fights. You should be there." Brutus sat comfortably on a bench under a spreading tree and nodded to the young girl who handed him wine. "There will be no better opportunity for her to go there with you."

"I'm not so sure about that." Marcus replied. "The Emperor, these people..."

"You can't keep her at home forever, Marcus!" the man snorted "I know you want her safety, but someone will notice her soon. Besides, I heard that a few people would be interested in you finally getting married."

Acacius frowned and snorted at the very statement. This topic always appeared when he returned to Rome, that's why he preferred barracks and battlefields, soldiers didn't care about marital status. 

Besides, marriage for people of his position was rarely connected with deeper feelings. It was about the arrangement, about position, about wealth, about creating a strong family.

Somewhere nearby he heard a familiar quiet laugh and noticed you with Aurelia, Brutus' wife, who was showing you around their house. His friend noticed how the General's face brightened at the sight of you.

"It gives me great joy to see you like this." he said warmly "I don't know what spell this girl has cast on you, but the gods are kind to you, since they allowed your paths to cross."

"I will be grateful to them for the rest of my life." Marcus said. "I feel like I knew her before my eyes first met her."

"Is that possible?"

"I don't know... Maybe it was just a dream." He raised his glass to his lips and took a sip of sweet wine. "So be it. She will accompany me there." Brutus patted him on the shoulder happily. "You're right. There will be no better time, and I don't want to risk it."

"We will be there too. But warn her, Marcus. A viper's nest is a terrible place for beautiful creatures like her."

Acacius nodded. A strange fear filled his heart, but when he heard your footsteps, when he felt a familiar hand on his shoulder, it all flew away with the wind.

Something strange woke you up at night. For a moment you tried to understand what it was. Marcus was sleeping quietly next to you, his arm around your waist, his body as hot as the sun close to yours. 

You felt it again. The scent that woke you up, so familiar.

Sage and other herbs, burning somewhere outside the window, in a garden immersed in darkness. You quietly and carefully got out of bed and threw thin robes over your naked body. The window was open and the gentle wind must have unconsciously brought the delicate smoke into the room.

You strained your eyes to see in the darkness the person who was not only burning herbs, but also... 

Yes, you knew the words to this prayer. You had heard it several times in one of the temples, but not in the temple dedicated to Minerva. These were words addressed to Venus, and they were whispered quietly by someone you knew so well. 

A prayer filled with regret, interwoven with quiet sobbing…

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

@ashleyfilm @gothcsz @littlenicpascal @missladym1981 @axshadows @psychoenergy @sabsunflowergirl @pedrofan @heckzprince @hard-candy-writing @mynameisbaby9 @94namkooksworld @bbyanarchist @picketniffler @tranquilty @psyched2b @jeewrites @tuquoquebrute @aotfantasmagorias

[neverpathia]

*drop these and runs away*

2. (Explore) If you have a least favorite Chapter, then how would you go about changing it?

12. (Explore) What's your favorite Voices dynamic?

25. (Explore) What’s a moment in the game that emotionally destroyed you?

nevvey has a PhD in yappanese so this came out too long, oops

2. least favourite chapter

huh. well I know everyone's been answering the greys for this, and I don't wanna be another member of that echo chamber, but honestly I'm kinda struggling to think of my least favourite right about now. the ones that are great are great, and the ones that aren't as great. uh. they're more or less on the same tier if I'm gonna be frank

fine. I'll cave. it's drowned grey. haven't seen her route yet but in all fairness I don't feel like it, not too interested, already know what happens, and am scared of being scared. with burned grey, at least I can respect the themes at play. the extremes of blind devotion playing into callousness. the crossing of boundaries that one has claimed to demolish. violence to fix violence met with violence. hurt intended to cure hurt.

there's at least more of an emotional reaction there, but with prisoner? you're less obligated to feel something for her, I guess. I'm not saying you're not a fucking traitorous scumbag if you slay pris, but I'm just saying that she provokes less pity and sadness than slaying the damsel. drowned grey to me comes off as pure spook factor imo. it's a tale of vengeance, that's it. there isn't as much to explore there.

drowned grey works as a route but it's not as complex as I would like it to be. and that's fine for the game. it works. but it's just kind of there. I wouldn't know how to fix it because the course of events still makes sense, but it's just. underwhelming. I wouldn't do anything about it but only because I have no idea how.

12. favourite voice dynamic

OH COME ON. YOU FUCKING EXPECT ME TO CHOOSE?????

so it keeps teetering between parahero and smittunist but in the end I've just been writing those things out in my head and the majority of how i perceive it is all fanon. it doesn't matter. nix. nada. nothing.

if we're going to talk about in the actual canon...probably still smittunist. it's hilarious how they interact in thorn. oppy being the same bootlicker as always, and smitten just mindlessly swinging behind GASP HOW DARE YOU and OH YOU ARE SO RIGHT FOR REAL, is just kind of golden. but at the same time it's sweet how smitten makes up for oppy's faults here. and at the same time as much as they contrast and you can still tell that oppy hasn't really changed too much but there's still something there and it's still so unresolved but they still manage to put aside their differences and stuff- plus. funny dialogue. it's gold. it's just gold

but at the same time I recently did den, and I think hunted and skeptic's a bit of an underrated dynamic. there's an inherent trust that's obviously there between most of the voices already, but it's especially highlighted with skeptic's plan and stuff. i can kinda hear them as a grizzled old man and the scruffy little creature he picked up on the side of the road and decided to adopt. he taught him that plans matter, yay. he saw him make his first friend (den in rescue), yay. it's adorable.

but then we also have hero and paranoid giving broken a reality check in apotheosis and like. paranoid losing his mind. broken having lost his mind in the other direction. a confused hero being the only sane man. them powering through together as a team anyway. the two gay uncles and the depressed nephew they got stuck with babysitting. I can't-

[rams my fist straight into the wall and splinters all of my phalanges and releases an uncouth yelp worthy of a soprano] I CANNOT. DON'T ASK ME TO CHOOSE.

25. worst trauma

look. all the pristine cut stuff so far was absolutely devastating, and I am specifically laser-focusing on Happily Ever After with that comment.

but the moment that fucking punched me in the gut and had me doubling over was probably, thorn. yeah because she's my wife and we're married and I can't bear to see her hurt and she's reading this over my shoulder right now and she's beautiful and she's resplendent and

specifically, when you descend down the charred remains of the cabin. you hear just how resigned she is. just how tired everything has made her. and you just look, and see how badly she's been wounded. how she's been hurt. all these raw bleeding cuts and scrapes and scratches and scabs. it's so clear how vulnerable she is, and she's truly ashamed. this is what she's done. this is who she is now. this is what she believes she deserves.

and then all the dialogue options that show how much you don't want to forgive her. just as she wasn't able to forgive herself, as much as she's punished herself instead. like. like MY POOR FUCKING GIRL.

and another one for when her grip on the blade tightens... the lingering spite. the remnants of fear. the urge to distrust. she's leaving behind everything she thought she was and it's utterly ASSRRRGGGHH love you thorn.

[gunmetal-ring]

anon again. i'm sorry that i keep coming to you with this depressing messages but you seem like one of the few sane ppl in this fandom and i appreciate your honesty.

truth is im feeling really disillusioned with hellcheer lately. we don't have a lot of "canon" content so after a while, it gets tiring going thru the same 2 scenes over and over again (especially when one of them involves chrissy's death). ive been relying on fandom but it seems like it's slowed down. fics arent updated as frequently, not a lot of new artwork.

heck, even joe and grace have moved on. joe's career is taking off. grace is leaving acting. it just feels like everything that happened last summer has come to an end :(

Aw anon thats okay. Ty for thinking of my feelings though 💓 (and also im flattered that you think im sane lmao)

Unfortunately its the way things go, especially with small ships, especially especially in a fandom as hostile as this one is. People come together and build community and share their love for characters and then g(r)o(w) their separate ways again.

But not everybody does! You and me, for example. And ive got plenty of hellcheer mutuals that seem perfectly content to draw, write, and rb their little hearts out.

I for one am absolutely astounded that theres even a fandom for hellcheer, let alone one with such talent and breadth and depth of love! Our characters had 2 scenes. Our girl was killed just as it all began. Our boy died with her name on his lips. In all likelihood we will never see them together on our screens again.

But somehow. Those ~10 minutes managed to foster an entire community of people and keep us engaged and in love w the characters for almost a year at this point! With no dangling promises or false hope or anything! Like we all know the score and we still go hard for hellcheer. Incredible.

Idk maybe it's just bc ive only had brainworms like this for 2 other ships and 1 of them is even smaller and the other one is a clusterfuck of unimaginable proportions, so im a little biased in terms of community/fandom, but im just like... idk. I think its really incredible thats all. And a testament to the very real power and truth of hellcheer 🥰

All i can say anon is that the best way to keep a fandom/ship going is engagement. Likes on tumblr and kudos on ao3 are great. But whats even better and more motivating (and i say this as a fic writer/meme shitposter so im speaking the total truth lol) is reblogs and comments. Tell people how much you love their work and how much it means to you, it goes a very long way. And on the flip side of that - stay out of the infighting. All it does is sap your mental energy and the fandom infighting bullshit is a major contributor to why people leave. The negativity and bitterness warp your perspective and make it really hard to remember what we're here for - it's not anti-st*ddie or anti-qu*nn stans or anti-anti-hellcheer or what the fuck ever. We're here for hellcheer!

Sorry my $0.02 is now $2.00 bc i ramble lol its a fatal flaw of mine. Anyway im sorry if this is annoyingly positive or dismissive but im in a strangely upbeat mood rn so there you have it

[anjuschiffer]

Amira Wayne - Chapter 23

...oh where have the writing deities gone now that I’ve gotten this random burst of motivation despite my job draining me?

Anyways, hope you guys enjoy this chapter :D

-

P. Tag: @toodaloo-kangaroo @elijahcrevan @vixen-uchiha

Tag: @we-want-mini-mini @ramos123 @redscarlet95 @corabeth11 @anonymously-odd @officiallydarkgeek @galla02006 @jayjayspixiepop

If you would like to be added to the taglist, just let me know in the comments

-

Chapter 23: Family, Friends and Identities (2)

MASTERLIST | FIRST | PREV | AO3

Damian sat in the middle of the archive room, assessing his new findings over the portrait he found of his father and sister with the unknown woman although he did have an inkling of who she might just be. 

However, guesses are guesses until you have enough evidence to make them into truths. 

One thing led to another and after coming to an obvious conclusion, he needed some evidence to know that he was right…that he was right. 

Which is how he found himself in front of his sister’s room. 

After all, she must have some clues about the woman that shared the same portrait as her, even if it was from some time ago.

It was strange to say the less the awkwardness Damian felt as his hand hovered over the doorknob leading into sister’s room. 

While there was a logical, or rather, biological reasoning for Amira’s existence, that was just it…

He has a sister. 

He has a sister who he didn’t know about until just a few hours ago.  

A sister that is the same age as him and has been living with their father since she was a toddler. 

He didn’t even know about him until he was four and even then, he didn’t know his name until he requested it as a prize for managing to land a hit on his grandfather on his birthday duel…

And that was years ago…

He didn’t want to thank the traitor, but…if it weren’t for Wilson’s invasion, he would have never-

“You shouldn’t be here.” A voice spoke from behind him, Damian holding in a huff. 

Timothy Jackson Drake.  

Father’s latest charity case…

Even though Drake has one relative left to care for him…never mind that. 

Just how long has he been standing there?

Ignoring the child, Damian turned the knob, only for it to only turn halfway. 

Of course it was locked. 

“Amira-“ Drake started, only for Damian to cut him off.

“What my sister owns and does should not be a secret to me. I’m her brother.”

“Blood doesn’t justify invading another person’s privacy.” Tim argued, recalling the importance of the word ‘blood’ and ‘biological’ meant to him. “ She shouldn’t have to report about every little thing she does. She has a right to keep secrets to herself. Not even Jason walked into her room unless she allowed him in. And that’s considering the fact that Jason was the closest to her.”

Damian pondered for a minute, his hand never letting go of the door knob. 

“Jason…as in Jason Todd?” 

Tim fought the urge to let out a snort.  

“I thought you knew-“

“I saw him once in the halls of our headquarters.” Damian casually mentioned, wondering what Drake’s expression would look like. “Todd looked just like you when he arrived; scrawny and lacking any sense of-“

“Jason was with you?” Damian turned to face him and based on the expression on Drake’s face, it seems like no one knew where Todd resided these past few months… or the fact that he was even alive.

“Apparently you lack the skill to comprehend. I only saw him. Never actually interacted with that plebeian.” He watched the boy’s eyes narrow. 

“Do you always look down on those beneath-“

“When I saw him, he was being restrained by two of our strongest guards, they were taking him to our solitary confinement area.” Damian clarified, not exactly knowing why he did so. “He was thrashing, snarling like a wolf cub that had been taken away from its mother.” Damian began to walk down the hall, hearing Drake’s footsteps softly trailing behind him as he took a turn. “It was a miracle he actually managed to become sane again after emerging from it.

It didn’t seem like it at first by the way he reacted once he was out of the waters…

Even Grandfather found it fascinating to see a person react so violently after emerging from the Pits. He had neutralized the entire security around the waters, something only Grandfather had done.” He noticed Drake tense at his words.

He remained silent as they approached what he recalled to be his father’s room. Or at least, what should be his room if the floor plan he memorized was accurate to date. 

He turned the knob, surprised to see that it was actually open. 

Damian’s enthusiasm was short lived as he found nothing as he rummaged through the drawers and walkthrough closet, tapped at the bottom of every drawer, inspected the floors for any creaks, lifted any carpet he could find and checked behind any furniture he could move.

Not a single thing stood out from the norm..except for a few papers that laid on the nightstand.

Picking them up, he examined them, noticing that they were hotel reservations, attraction reservations, a few copies of money transfers…

“Oh, you found the tickets for Disneyland Bruce was looking for yesterday.” Drake casually stated, taking them out of his hand. “Should probably tell him-”

“Why does he need these? Are they part of some mission? But even then it wouldn’t make any sense. Why would he only need reservations for two people if it’s just-”

“He actually bought them for Harley and Ivy as thanks for- that’s right.” Drake tried to redirect, quickly making his way towards the door, apparently not knowing any better. “Alfred-”

Damian quickly grabbed him, throwing him  to the ground, pressing one of his daggers against his neck.

“Speak. Or else.”

“First, take that off me.” Drake demanded, Damian noticing the small trembles in his voice as he attempted to speak firmly. “Then I’ll tell you.”

Damian slowly lifted the blade, observing every moment from Drake as he slowly sat up. “As I mentioned, Bruce had bought these for Harley and Ivy.”

“Before you fail to mention why specifically Father bought those for Doctors Quinzel and Doctor Isley.”

“It’s seems like you already know who-“

“The Jester and plant maniac? I spent hours reviewing their files down-“

“Right… you see, they’re Amira’s therapists.”

“Therapy? Why would-“

“That’s something you should ask her, not me.”

“Why should I-“

“Just because I know why Amira receives therapy doesn’t permit me to tell others the reason why she does.” Drake reminded him, getting up and dusting himself. “Since it is something relating to her, it’s up to her whether or not she wants to share her personal activities. Even if they are family.” Drake slowly opened the door to walk out. “After all, family doesn’t always mean they respect your decisions and boundaries. Not even being blood related guarantees being understood…and I know that better than anyone…even you.”

With that, Drake left the room, leaving Damian to his own devices. 

Blood…

Ra’s always told him that blood was everything. Blood was family and that there wasn’t anything blood couldn’t do when it came to achieving greatness…especially for an Al Ghul.

And yet why was everyone so insistent in saying the opposite?

Damian decided to not dawdle into the thought for long, circling the room one last time before stopping at a door that he had yet to investigate. 

The placement of the door had thrown him off; the layout of his father’s bedroom wouldn’t have needed a door to the right as his wardrobe and bath were at their optimal place.  

So there was only one way to get his answers.

Testing the doorknob, he let out a sigh of relief when he found it opened, slowly pulling the door forward to see what was inside the room. 

A crib.

That’s the first thing Damian notes when he steps into the room, the mosquito net draped over it slightly obscuring the items within. 

The large cloth hung from the ceiling straight to the floor, Damian slowly walking up to it, pushing the net aside. 

It felt awkward as his hands tried to settle against the wooden frame, his hands hovering over the frame as he peered into the crib. 

A stuffed sheep stared back at him, mismatched buttons boring right into him. 

Now why would his father need a room like this? He wasn’t expecting another child…was he? If anything, he shouldn’t be. If the files he read on Kyle meant anything, his father had yet to procure another being as they are…engaged… 

Damian felt his nose wrinkle at the thought. 

His father, marrying a thief. Out of all the women his father could have settled with, why a thief? Why not a woman of his stature? Of his league?

”The heart is a feeble thing, emotions even more. Make sure you never let those things dull your sense of duty.” 

That’s right. 

Grandfather had always warned him of emotions and the heart making one soft and causing one to stray away from their potential. 

Perhaps he could help talk his father out of this. Maybe help him look for someone else who could- a faint glare snapped him from his thoughts.

Damian quickly picked up the sheep that was staring at him all this time, lifting its ear up to see a name embroidered in gold into the inner portion of its ear.

Amira.

Quickly scanning the room, he noticed the walls covered in photos, drawings and diplomas displayed for everyone to see. Books lining the shelves of a nearby bookcase and other odd items adorning the floating shelves on the other side of the room. 

What seemed to be a table of some sorts had padding on its top, empty crates next to it.

It was then that it dawned on him. 

This was Amira’s nursery. 

He quickly went over to the frames, absorbing the photos of Amira looking straight at him with large doe eyes or a huge toothless smile. Or with a single tooth in some photos. 

Pictures of Amira wearing overalls and tiny frilly dresses, sometimes wearing a smock with paints or food thickly covering her small hands. 

There was one picture with the very same sheep he saw early, only this time, the doll was covered in mud and had lost a limb during play time. 

There were drawings of all sorts hanging about, some of random strokes of paint covering a canvas while there were a few of more detailed scenery, Damian being able to tell his sister was at an age where perspective was yet to be her forte, but he could see her improvement throughout the years…

Damian felt his gut twist at that realization…

Amira had evidence of her growing here, of her skills improving and seeing the improvement herself…evidence of her existence…evidence of their father’s pride in her…

It wasn’t until he heard something hit the floor that Damian realized that he was carrying Amira’s sheep in his hands the entire time, realizing then that he had torn off its eye from the frustration, the button falling onto the floor.

Setting it down on a nearby chair, Damian went back to looking at the diplomas and certificates that he realized something wasn’t right…

“Who is Marinette Dupain?”

—

Chloe gnawed the tip of her nail, pulling her thumb away when she realized what she was doing. Although honestly, she could care less about her manicure right now. 

She had other matters to think about, like Alya’s visit.

Just what did Alya want to talk about? Was this about earlier today? About not being part of their party? Then again, she mentioned Marinette.

But what about Marinette? 

Marinette was…Marinette! There was nothing more to the girl than- 

Chloe let out a scoff, biting her tongue to hold in a laugh.

Marinette wasn’t just Marinette, but at the same time, she was. 

Yes, her knowing Selina Kyle threw her off at first, but after knowing that the girl had known Jason Todd -one of Bruce Wayne’s sons- of course it would make sense that Marinette would know the rest of the family.

But then there was the kidnapping…she was just the daughter of a pair of sweet bakers, who would kidnap the child of a pair of bakers?

But what if…what if…what if knowing the Wayne’s made her a target?

Was Alya perhaps going to talk about that? About Marinette’s connections with the Wayne’s? Did she find something regarding the reason behind her kidnapping?

But then again, she wasn’t in the know of the kidnapping, unless Marinette told her… so why-

“-Queen! My Queen! Your phone has been going off for some time now!��� Pollen spoke up, snapping Chloe from her thoughts.

Quickly going to pick up her phone, Chloe was about to return the phone call when she noticed Pollen whiz away. On cue, Adrien came bursting into her room. 

“Chloe! What’s wrong? Why aren’t you answering- oh. You’re fine.” Adrien pointed out. 

“Of course I am! Why-“ Chloe tried to deflect.

“I’ve been texting you for a while and when those didn’t get read, I tried calling. And when you didn’t pick those up, I came here thinking something had happened to you. After all, there isn’t a time you aren’t on your phone.” 

“But as you can see, I’m fine. I was just busy admiring the bracelet Marinette gave me.” Chloe showed off said bracelet, Adrien noticing that a few of her nails had picked nail polish, parts of it lifting. He frowned.

“Somethings bothering you. Tell me.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Liar.” 

The room stayed silent for a while. “Sit down.” Adrien motioned to the chaise, patting a seat next to him. A split minute passed when Chloe finally sat down beside her friend. “So, what happened?”

“Alya wants to talk about Marinette. Not exactly sure about what, but…”

“But what?”

“That's just it, I don’t know.” Chloe stared at her hands, taking off the last bit of nail polish off her finger. “Her voice, her way of asking me if she could see me now…it sounded urgent. Panicky,  almost.”

When Adrien didn’t comment on anything, Chloe decided to turn to him, only to find him zoned on who knows what. “Adrien?”

“So she didn’t mention what she wanted to talk about?”

“Didn’t you just hear what I said?” She scoffed. “Ridiculous. Anyways, she urgently wanted to talk about Marinette and didn’t mention-“

“If she didn’t mention anything, that means it’s something she uncovered while looking at Marinette’s public information.” 

“Public information? What is that suppose to-”

“Alya knows something that everyone else doesn’t. It’s something besides having been Banshee, besides her being adopted, besides being from Gotham and knowing the Wayne’s.” 

“Are you saying Cesaire is digging up information on Marinette?” Chloe couldn’t believe the girl. “She claims to be her friend and she does that? Who does-”

“You know she’s not like that Chlo. We both know that.” Chloe remained silent. “I didn’t mean to imply that Alya is digging up information on Marinette, but rather…”

“Rather what?” Now Adrien went quiet, causing Chloe to scowl. “Adrien, what are you getting at?”

“It’s…it’s something that’s been weighing on my mind recently. Something that has been plaguing me ever since we’ve come back from Gotham.”

“Adrien…that was almost a month ago. Why didn’t you-”

“Because it concerns Marinette…”

“Now you’re doubting Marinette?”

“Chloe, listen…I think…I think Marinette isn’t who she says she is.”

“Adrien. You can’t just-”

“I know, I know! But…Chloe.” He grabbed her hands. “You’re my bestest friend. My sister from other parents. You know I trust you with everything, right?”

“I know that already. But what’s does this-“

“What I’m about to tell you stays between the two of us, okay?” 

“Always.” She answered without a second thought.

“Chloe,” he huffs. “There were so many loose threads and even then, I’m sure of what I’m about to say…” Chloe feels his grasp tighten. “Marinette…I believe Marinette Dupain Cheng is not the Marinette Dupain Cheng she claims to be. I believe…I believe that it’s just-”

“Adrien…get to the point already…please…” Chloe rushed, causing Adrien to hesitate to finish his thoughts more than what he already was.

“I know it sounds crazy and believe me, I’ve been in denial this entire time but now I’m sure of it. Marinette is actually-” The sound of footsteps caused Adrien to stop mid sentence, the two turning their heads to the doors to see who was running towards them.

They watched as the doors bursted open, Alya not even giving them a second to question her entrance.

“Marinette is Ladybird!” Alya bursted out only to then collapse to the floor.

“Cesaire! How dare you-” Chloe started to yell as she approached Alya.

“I don’t care if Adrien is here and I don’t care what you say about me having to ask to enter because you have to help me decide what the fuck to do with this piece of information,” Alya demanded, taking out a flashdrive, “because I can’t exactly say this on the Ladyblog or anywhere without causing another-“

“Alya, calm down. Breathe.” Adrien told her as he guided her to a seat at the chaise they had gotten up from. “And we’re going to have you say that one again because we want to make sure what you said was indeed what you said, okay?” Chloe handed her over a bottle of water. 

When Alya took a few sips and calmed out a bit, she looked at the two before taking interest in the bottle in her hands. 

“As I was trying to say before, I found out something I wasn’t supposed to.” She looked at the two before her. “Marinette… 

Marinette is Ladybird…and unfortunately, I have proof.”

——

It seemed that with each room he tried to enter to get answers, his list of questions only got longer.

Seeing as his father’s room had no answers and nor did the nursery, Damian returned to the room his brain knew should have the answers to all his questions: Amira’s. 

After taking mere seconds to lockpick the bedroom door, Damian was yet again disappointed with the lack of answers he got from his sister’s room as well.

Every photo on the wall lacked the face of the woman in the portrait. Instead, various photos of the circus boy and orphan joined her in several photos. In others, there were other teens being the main focus with his sister being in the background. 

In short, his sister also knew nothing of the woman from the portrait. However, there was something that caught his eye.

A red haired teen would often be found holding his sister’s hand in more recent photos, the teen often found being at her side at all times. 

While Damian was raised within the domain that was the League of Assassins, that didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of the signs of intimacy between two people. 

And this was exactly it. 

But who exactly was he?

Did their father allow them to be together? Was he of the same standing as them? 

Perhaps of the same wealth status? And if not that, then what? 

Damian closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he cleared those thoughts away. 

Focus. 

He’s not your top priority now. Finding out who the woman was and why his father had diplomas of a ‘Marinette Dupain’ in the nursery were his main concerns. 

After re-establishing his thoughts, Damian sat down on the edge of his sister’s bed, staring at the photo of what he assumed to be the skyline of the city of Paris from the top of the Eiffel-

Paris?

Why did his sister have a picture of the skyline of Paris? Or rather, how did she get this picture? Judging from the angle of the photo, it wasn’t just from the touristic height of the tower, but rather the very top, from the antenna of the tower itself…

“I have a few things left to do before I have to go elsewhere.” 

“Duties? Robin?”

His sister’s words from before her departure rang in his head. 

Just what were her duties in Paris? What drove her to Paris that made her not want to take the mantle of Robin?

Seems like there was only one thing left to do: visit his sister.

But first, he had some research he had to do before heading there.

-

The three teens looked at the screen in front of them, Alya barely holding in her tears while Chloe tore off a tip of her nail she had been chewing this entire time. 

Alya had decided to run through all of her data she had gathered that proved Marinette being Ladybird, screen mirroring Chloe’s laptop screen to a nearby tv to allow the three of them to see everything clearly. 

To see the facts Marinette had hidden from them all this time. 

From her mystery filled family background to her ability to adapt to any challenge thrown her way to knowing government related issues regular civilians shouldn’t know about...

“And you’re sure you haven’t told anyone-“

“For the last time Adrien, no!” Alya shrieked, finally letting the tears spill. “I’ve only found out now! Everything clicked when I left the Dupain-Cheng’s, I-“ Alya let out a frustrated scream, pulling at her hair. “What am I supposed to do with this?! Tell me, what-“

“Alya, please! This is…this is just as-'' Chloe dug her nails into the palm of her hand. “If she’s really Ladybird, then she must’ve had her reasons. I mean, Hawkmoth! 

She couldn’t just go and reveal herself to us. Can you imagine what would have happened if Hawkmoth knew that we knew who she was? 

He could’ve used us against her. And I don’t ever want to go against her!”

“Because of Banshee?” Alya dared to ask.

“What? No!” Chloe shrieked, appalled Alya would ever say something like that regarding their friend. “Because if she’s Ladybird, then I can’t risk endangering one of Paris’ vigilantes! And…

And…because she’s my friend, Alya. And the last thing I wanna do is hurt my friends, even outside of being a Victim.”

“Is that why you came to tell us?” Adrien asked, hating the pit he felt in his stomach after hearing Alya’s question. “Are you…are you afraid of Marinette turning into something like Banshee again?”

Alya opened her mouth to refute, only to clamp it shut when she saw Chloe’s wide eyes. 

“Cesaire. What the-“

“No! Yes! I don’t know!” Alya slumped to the floor. “I’m worried that one of us might get akumatized again and-“

“Again?” 

“Alya, what do you mean by again?”

“If Marinette knows that I know that she is Ladybird, her emotions will get the best of her if I decide to confront her and ask if she truly is Ladybird. She won’t turn into Banshee per se, but she could turn into something just as powerful and if not, worse. And if she decides to lie to me fully knowing my evidence is correct, being called a liar…I’m afraid…I’m afraid I must just- I just…I don’t want anyone to fall into Hawkmoth’s manipulation again.” 

Alya hugged her knees, her head pressed against them. “ I don’t want to fall into this manipulation again…I don’t ever want to go through that again...”

“You keep saying again…were you akumatized before?” Adrien asked. Seconds ticked before Alya raised her head to look at him. 

“LadyWifi. That’s how I realized Marinette was Ladybird. While we were talking, I brought up therapy and tried to tell her how she had to power through all of this…even when we feel like we should be punished for something we weren’t aware that we did…

It was then that she mentioned LadyWifi. 

No one should’ve known that I was LadyWifi and when I realized this..” she quietly trailed off. “I got so excited to know I wasn’t the only one who felt this way that nothing alarmed me at first and when it finally dawned on me...it was too late.

I had connected the dots and now…everything she had ever said to me makes sense…and now I can’t do anything to help her because I fear I’ll do more harm than good if I try to approach her…

And that’s the last thing I want to do. I don’t ever want to hurt those close to me, those dear to me. Because unlike you Chloe, I have hurt my friends and family before and before you say anything, you aren’t going to be the first one to tell me about this, nor the last. 

‘It wasn’t your fault,’ LadyWifi wasn’t really you. Her actions weren’t yours. You weren’t in control.’ But that’s exactly what bothers me!

Because it was me. Because it was me. 

Just because I don’t remember being LadyWifi doesn’t mean I wasn’t at fault!

After all, it was my fault for letting my emotions get the better of me, of allowing myself to get manipulated by Hawkmoth despite being fully aware of the conditions needed for him to take control of you…

While I was LadyWifi, I hurt so many people around me…I hurt Ladybird…

I feel like I should be held accountable for all the trouble I did while akumatized…even if I was being mind controlled…

And since Marinette shares the same approach to akumatization, I can only imagine the turmoil she is going through…”

The trio sat there, wondering what to do with this information, wondering how the three could avoid setting-

That’s when something dawned onto Adrien.

“Why hasn’t he attacked us?” The two girls looked up.

“He?”

“Hawkmoth.” Chloe’s eyes widened.

“Now that you mention it.”

“He hasn’t akumatized a single person since Banshee.” Alya noticed. “How long has it been since then?”

“Almost a month.” Chloe watched as Alya quickly opened up Beetle and Cat, navigating to the page that listed all of the latest Victims, Banshee being the most recent of them all and just as Chloe mentioned, that was roughly three weeks ago. 

There’s no way Hawkmoth would’ve let this type of opportunity slip just like that. 

So then, why?

“What hasn’t he akumatized us yet?” Adrien asked no one in particular.

“Could Banshee have taken that much energy from him?”

“We don’t know for sure.” Alya said as she continued to browse the site. “Hawkmoth has never been MIA before so we can’t really say for sure that was the case. 

It doesn’t help that we don’t know much about Hawkmoth nor the main details of the Banshee case.” Alya quickly filled in when she remembered what Marinette told her not long ago. “The security breach.”

“The what now?” Chloe looked at Adrien for clarification only to get a shrug of the shoulders. 

“The security breach. Marinette spoke to me about the city’s internet having been hacked into that allowed the situation in Paris to be known world wide. Marinette said that her identity as Banshee was leaked and how she has to lay low for-”

“The PRM has been violated.” Chloe whispered, Alya wondering what that meant. 

“Alya, what else do you know about this security breach?” Now that threw Alya for a spin. 

First Chloe and then Adrien. 

Why are they acting more serious the minute she spoke more about the breach? 

“Apparently, during the Banshee incident, Paris’ internet got hacked, allowing everyone in the world to see the whole akuma attack play out, including the aftermath. Because of this, Mari-”

“He’s being affected by this too.” Chloe pointed out. “With the Hawkmoth situation now out in the open, Hawkmoth is being more cautious now.”

“Of course!” Alya caught on. “With more eyes on him, he’s probably laying low to stop himself from-”

“No. I don’t think that is the case.” Adrien shut down, both girls feeling their conviction shrink. “I don’t think he would really care about having more eyes on him. If anything, he would see this as an opportunity. 

Take Queen Bee for instance. 

Even with the addition of more heroes, that didn’t stop him from akumatizing civilians. 

If anything, I think he’s using this as a distraction. He’s using the security breach as a means to gather the attention away from him and let it point towards the Parisian government for hiding this from the rest of France and the world.”

“But why would he do that? What has he to gain from all this chaos?” Alya’s eyes widened. “Oh no.”

“With this all going on, everyone will be on high alert now. Everyone’s minds and emotions would be all over the place.” Chloe scowled. “He’s not hiding because he’s afraid.”

“He’s hiding because he’s planning something big.” Adrien finished off.

“But can’t we-? I mean, I know we can’t exactly go to Marinette and ask about being Ladybird and whether she has noticed this or not. But we can’t just let Hawkmoth-“

“But we can’t just throw this at Marinette either. She’s already been through a lot this past month. I don’t think it’s wise of us to throw this identity question at her right now.”

“But Adrien! We have to act now! We know Hawkmoth is into something and if we don’t do something about it, all of Paris-“

“We can’t just go ahead and start doing something without a plan, Alya.” Adrien hissed, “We can’t just-“

“I agree, but I’m with Cesaire on this.” Chloe sided, taking Alya aback. “True, we can’t just ask Marinette about all of this, but we can’t just sit here and do nothing either. 

I want to do something before Hawkmoth gets the chance to act. I want to stop him before he can hurt anyone else…don’t you too, Adrien?”

Adrien stared at the girls before letting out a sigh. 

“We can’t just go ahead and play hero, you know that, don’t you?” When Adrien saw Chloe open her mouth to retort, he continued. “But knowing you, I know you’re going to do what you can to get what you want and all I can do is help prevent you from throwing yourself into danger.”

“Are you saying-”

“We have to create an opportunity to ask Marinette about all of this while also making a plan to try and let another vigilante know that Hawkmoth is planning something.” Adrien addressed. “I might know of a way to get into contact with one of the other vigilantes, even if it is risky, but as for creating an opportunity to ask Marinette…”

“We have to make the opportunity as soon as possible too.” Chloe pointed out. “After all, we don’t know when Hawkmoth might strike.”

“And we might need to take Selina into account for our plans.” Alya brought up. “Marinette mentioned that Selina is looking after her at the moment as her parents are in China visiting family and is feeling guilty for allowing Marinette to get kidnapped while in her care. We won’t be able to ask Marinette out unless Selina is there to look after her. And if we don’t take Selina in account, then the only other way we can ask Marinette would be at school.”

“But that would be in a month and we don’t exactly have time to just wait for the right time.” Adrien stated, noticing Chloe having gone quiet. “Chlo, what’s on your mind?

“What about another party? And this time…let’s invite the Wayne’s. We were invited to one of their galas before, it’s only right we invited them to ours.”

-

Amira bit her tongue, fighting the urge to take off her coat and shoes and just run back upstairs. Just thinking about heading outside made bile rise up to her mouth, Amira feeling her hands tremble as she tried to stuff them further into her pockets. She felt as her nails dug into her palm, wondering why they weren’t calming her down like usual.

A few days after the Christmas party, Adrien and Chloe invited her and her parents to a New Year’s Eve party, Amira finding herself promising to be there and promising to bring some eclairs for her friends.

“Māomāo, everything alright?” Selina asked, snapping Amira from her thoughts. 

“I’m fine.” She lied to herself, letting out a long huff. “A bit nervous, but I’m fine.”

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” Selina softly spoke, her father nodding in agreement. 

“It’s one thing if you guys don’t go and it’s another if I don’t go. While they’re expecting both of us to be there, they’re expecting me to actually show up because I’m their friend.”

“They’ll understand if you don’t want to go.”

“But I need to go.”

“Amira,” her father spoke, crouching to her eye level. “Don’t force yourself if you’re not feeling up to it.”

“I’m not forcing myself and I do want to go. I can’t go back on my promise after all.”

Bruce looked at Selina, Selina giving him a shrug.

“Alright. We’ll all go. But if anything-”

“I’ll make sure to let you guys be the first ones to know if anything goes wrong.” 

“Alright then.” Selina said, clapping her hands together. “As much as I like making a grand entrance, being two hours late isn’t what I consider to be an entrance nor can my outfit for tonight allow me to use the excuse of being fashionably late. So come on. Let’s go already.”

-

Amira didn’t know what to expect when Chloe had told her almost anyone she could think of -celebrity wise- would be at the party. 

For starters, her parents. The minute they entered, they were swarmed with people, a few congratulating their engagement, some asking them for the wedding date while others tried to talk business with them. 

While her parents took the room by storm, she quietly made her entrance, asking Chloe’s butler -Armand- about Chloe’s whereabouts.

According to the man, he last saw her with her father, who was just on the other side of the dimly lit hall.

As she made her way towards the mayor,  she couldn’t help but notice a few strangling reporters like Nadja Chamack there and a few play directors like Sarah in the crowd talking with Paris’ most popular show host Alec Cataldi.

She also noticed Bob Roth with his son in the crowd, his cackling regarding who knows whatever new accomplishment his son did causing her to make a mental note of avoiding him at all cost.

She didn’t need to get tangled into a long conversation of boasting with a man who already gave her a bad impression.

Just as she reached the mayor, she was tackled from behind, thankful to know it was just Chloe and Sabrina, the two girls having been tailing her the moment she walked in.

Sabrina tried to tell her something, but the multitude of conversations surrounding them, Chloe suggested they meet up with the others, Amira fully agreeing to going to a more open spaced area to converse in.

As Chloe guided her to where the rest of the group was at, she couldn’t help but spot Penny Rolling- Jagged Stone’s manager and if she was there, Jagged himself should be somewhere nearby. And the minute Chloe had guided her to the rooftop, she spotted the rock singer by the pool, telling Adrien and Nino stories of his tours and about Fang. Said reptilian guest was splashing about in the water, without a single care in the world.

It was only when Jagged spotted Clara Nightingale in the distance that he tore himself from the group, quickly giving them an apology before running over to talk with the pop singer. Something about an upcoming collaboration. 

“Marinette! You made it!” Adrien chirped, going up to hug his friend.

“Dudette! How've you been?”

“Never felt better!” Marinette said with a practiced smile. “By the way, I brought the snacks you guys asked for. I made sure to leave it in the kitchen for safe keeping. Oh, but won’t Natalie say anything about the sweets? I know-”

“You don’t gotta worry about her!” Nino said with a grin. “My dude can finally eat whatever he wants without her reporting to his old man tonight, isn’t that right?” Nino turned to Adrien.

“Y-yeah.” Adrien said with a strain smile. “She let me come here while she stayed back home.”

“Hey, is everything alright?” Chloe asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Adrien, are you alright?” Sabrina looked at their friend with worry.

“My dad…my dad hasn’t been feeling well as of late. It sometimes happens from time to time where he would randomly collapse, sometimes getting fevers and bad colds out of nowhere. Nathalie tells me everything is fine, that it’s just from overworking himself…but…I think it’s more than just work…” Adrien fumbled with his hands. “I’m worried they’re just trying to downplay it…just like…just like when-”

“Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!” Chloe interrupted. “This is a party. A party I worked hard for so that we can enjoy ourselves and countdown for the new year. I don’t want you starting the new year being all sulky when you have us around, so enough of this!” She looked Adrien square in the eyes. “You will enjoy this party and I’ll make sure of that!”

“That’s right!” Sabrina backed up.

“We’ll make sure you party so hard you forget about all the things that are making you sad!” Nino added.

“Adrien,” Marinette softly spoke up. “You’re dad is going to get better, you’ll see. And just like Chloe said, we’re here for you.” Amira mentally laughed at herself. The sweet hypocrisy that was about to come out of her mouth. “If you ever need someone to talk to, we’re here for you. You can trust us, okay?”

Adrien nodded, finally giving them a grin.

“Alright then, what are we waiting for? Let’s start with some drinks!”

“You know we’re not supposed to drink more than a cup, alright?” 

The group of friends managed to find an empty table to sit at and get some champagne, the friends quickly diving into small talk and retellings of their childhoods. 

Hours passed and Amira could feel the jitters from earlier start to fade away over the course of the night, even telling stories of her time at Gotham Academy and stories of when she first started to learn to bake.

Amira smiled as the others laughed at her retelling of her attempt at a cake when something passed by her, the corner of her eye barely catching it.

She ever so slightly turned her head to see what it was only to feel her heart stop and drop to the pits of her stomach.

Dark purple wings barely made it through the shut roof doors, but she knew that shade of purple all too well.

Hawkmoth’s butterflies’ wings. As in…an akuma…

“Marinette, is everything alright? Marinette jumped at the sound of Sabrina’s voice, turning to see said girl quite close to her. “You don’t seem-”

“I’m fine!” Marinette managed to squeak out, noticing she caught Chloe and Adrien’s attention from her sudden shout. “I-I just need to st- I was wondering where the kitchen was! I want to bring in the eclairs I made.” Marinette managed to fumble out, hoping they wouldn’t question her any further. After all, she had to find that akuma…now. “Do you know where it-”

“Marinette, are you alright?” Adrien asked, Marinette cursing his timing. “You seem a bit pale.”

“She says she’s fine. She’s looking for-”

“The kitchen!” Marinette cut Sabrina off. “I want to bring my surprise in!”

“Oh, I can take-”

“NO! I mean, no, that’s- I can get there myself! I, um, I can go if you just tell me how to get there.”

“Oh, I- sure, I guess.” Adrien fumbled, wondering why Marinette was acting strange. Was she onto them? “It’s right down stairs, right under us, in fact.”

“Under us? Alright. Thanks!” Without a second to lose, Amira bolted towards the glass dome, making sure each step she toko connected with the step, making sure she held onto the railing as she walked down the spiral stairway.  

She cursed herself when she realized she lost the butterfly when a faint trail of miasma seeped from the doors that lead to the staff stairwell. 

Without missing a beat, Amira followed, apologizing whenever she almost knocked someone over as she went to the stairwell, her eye barely catching the miasma as it went to a lower level, Amira stepping into the new floor, noticing the miasma seeping out of another pair of doors yet again.

Rushing towards the doors, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise when her hand touched the door handle. 

Pushing the doors inwards, Amira scanned the room, wondering where she was at. She circled around the round table, admiring the neatly composed white rose bouquet. She picked up on the two open doorways on either side of the room, wondering where she should start with to search for the aku- 

“Mlle Dupain-Cheng. I did not take you to be a child that snoops around other people’s homes.” Amira whipped her head to find Gabriel Agreste sitting on the furthest sofa chair, his eyes casted onto the book in his hands. 

“Mr.Agreste! I- I thought you were-what are you doing here?”

“The same reason you are here, Mlle Dupain-Cheng. I was invited to Mlle Bourgeois’ New Year Eve’s party. I had arrived just a few minutes ago, but I asked Andre if I could have a few minutes to compose myself before joining everyone else. He agreed, graciously allowing me to have a seat here.” Gabriel flipped a page. “But what about you, Mlle Dupain-Cheng? What brings you to Mlle Bourgeois’ quarters?”

“O-Oh. I-I wasn’t aware this was Chloe’s room…this is Chloe’s room?”

“More like her entertainment room although she likes to try and call it a waiting room for any person she deems worthy of her time. She usually spends her time here watching the hotel’s security cameras or viewing movies…or at least that’s what Adrien says Chloe does whenever they’re in this particular room.” Another page got flipped. “So back to the question, what brings you here when you should be upstairs, enjoying the countdown with your friends?”

“I was looking for the kitchen to check on the pastry I brought for the party. I was told it was the room just below the rooftop.” Marinette spoke, daring to take a step forward, now standing in the doorway. She scanned the room for any remnants of the akuma, only to realize that there was no miasma to be found anywhere in the room. 

There was no butterfly in sight either. “I must’ve gotten distracted by my phone as I went down the stairs as when I walked through the doors, I just found myself in a corridor and not the extravagant hall I was first brought to. Thinking I would find someone here to help me, I walked through the first doors I saw and I didn’t think I would run into you Mr.Agreste.

Although to be completely honest, I did not expect you to be up and walking. I was told you weren’t feeling well as of late. Or rather, Adrien told me that you’ve been fighting an awful cold these past few days.”

She didn’t expect Gabriel to be taken aback by this sentence, or rather, the fact that Gabriel took the time to look at her when she mentioned Adrien being worried about his father. He looked back down on his book.

“Adrien should not worry much; there have been a few times this has happened to me, but this cold will leave me soon…” Gabriel closed his book. “If memory serves me correctly,” Gabriel slowly got up, tucking the book into his arm. It was only then that Marinette noticed what the book he was reading this entire time was: the grimoire. “This is our second time meeting each other, is it not?”

“I suppose you can say that.” Marinette said, remaining where she was, making sure to scan the room with as little movement as possible. “But if you don’t want Adrien to worry, shouldn’t you-“

“Do you believe in fates, Mlle Dupain-Cheng?” Marinette tried her best to not show her confusion.

“What do you mean by that?”

“There must have been a reason for you waltzing into this room, Mlle Dupain-Cheng. Don’t you agree?” That took Marinette aback, almost letting out a laugh from the sudden change in topic but she bit her tongue to prevent herself from doing so. 

“Like I said before, I was looking for the kitchen to bring my pastry to Adrien’s room. But to answer your question, I don’t fully believe in fates and destinies. I say we have the ability to change them.”

“You disappoint me, Mlle Dupain Cheng.” Marinette frowned.

“Sounds like you are hoping I would agree with-“

“I was. After all, we’re two kindred spirits.” Gabriel took a seat at another sofa, this time motioning Marinette to take a seat on the opposite one. Slowly, she took the offer. “Marinette, I need your help.”

What?

“With all due respect Mr.Agreste, what can I -a 13 year old girl- do to help you? I don’t have much to off-“

“Oh, but you do.” Gabriel disputed. “You know how to translate the language in this book, can’t you?” She tensed up when he motioned the grimoire. 

That’s right. He knows that I know. He knows that I still remembered parts of Jason’s journal by memory. But why is he bringing that up now?

“As I’ve mentioned before,” she let herself relax, disregarding the still standing hairs on her neck. “It was my brother who knew how to decipher it. I, myself, don’t actually know much about the language, much less how to decipher it. So I don’t see how-”

“Yes, you did mention that it was him who knew the mysteries behind the book’s language.” Gabriel said, opening up the grimoire. “However, thanks to the small translations you’ve left behind, I was able to understand a few of the pages within the book.”

Marinett’s eyes widened. Did…did he find out about- no.

There’s no way he learned how to properly decipher the grimoire in mere days, there’s no way. Not with the simple translations she left behind. Hell, he shouldn’t be able to figure that out at all!

After all, it took Jason months to even find out that there was-

The cameras! 

She should’ve been checking them more often! Speaking of, when was the last time she checked it? Was it after- “Take the following section regarding the Butterfly. ” Gabriel started, interrupting her flow of thoughts. 

“The Butterfly is the miraculous of transmission, not to be confused with the miraculous of emotion - the peacock. While both are similar in regards to the miraculi allowing their users to grant powers to others, their way of doing so is where it differs. While the peacock user can grant an ally a champion to command, the butterfly user makes their ally into the champion.” 

Silence shortly filled the room, allowing Marinette to hear her heart racing loudly in her ears.

“I’m-I’m,” Marinette could feel her uncertainty continue to eat her thoughts, “I’m sorry…I-I don’t quite follow. How did the translations I left behind-”

“You see, thanks to the few translations you’ve left behind, I was able to see where my own translations were wrong, where I mistranslated and therefore mixed up the actual meaning of various pages of information.” Gabriel turned over a few more pages, the flipping coming to a stop a few pages over. “I always mistook the words ‘transmission’ and ‘emotion’ to be the same word, using them interchangeably throughout my translations. 

However, had I not stumbled into you and for you to give me with the little knowledge you had on the ancient language, I would have continued to misinterpret the information within the book. 

And for that, I thank you.” 

Thank me? 

I did nothing.

Jason was the one he should be thankful for. 

Why can’t he understand that it was all Jason?

Jason…she never told him about any of this! How did she forget to tell him?

“You have nothing to thank me for. If you want to thank anyone, it should be my brother..if he was still with us...” Gabriel watched the girl sink into herself 

“While it was your brother who originally discovered how to decipher the language, it was you who continued his legacy.” 

Her mind went blank. She felt her back straighten upon hearing those words. “Or do you not believe so?”

No.

“No.” She ended up vocalizing, saying it as she looked at him. “I-I don’t think-” 

“You see, Marinette. Thanks to the little amount of translation you’ve left behind, I was able to fully translate this small portion of the introductory paragraph of the butterfly miraculous that I wasn’t able to before.”

“Again,” Marinette clasped her hands together, fighting the urge to dig her nails into them. “That was all my brother.” 

That’s right, this was all Jason. 

She didn’t do a single thing to earn this praise. If anything, she was just taking credit for it…

“I just managed to know a few words that- coincident-“

“That wasn’t a mere coincidence, Marinette. This, this is the power of your knowledge-” 

Jason’s knowledge. 

Jason’s determination to crack the code. 

His efforts. 

Not hers. 

She somehow managed to zone back into Gabriel’s monologue. “-even as little as it may be, you've remembered enough of your brothers translations-“

“It was all his efforts! Not mine!” Marinette yelled, feeling her throat drying up. 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

Now there’s a lump. “I only know some of the things that he did and that just won’t be enough! Whatever it is you wanted me to help you with, I can’t help you! I have nothing else to offer!” She let herself catch her breath. “All I did was memorize what he translated and that’s it! I myself can’t translate the book! I’m…I’m useless…”

She didn’t expect her to get a laugh from Gabriel.

“Useless? Marinette, take a good look at yourself.” He smiled, sending a chill down her spine. “You’re more than just a translator. You’re the key to my success.”

“I’m- what?” 

Why? Why does he keep insisting- 

“With the knowledge you possess, you can translate the rest of the book, can’t you? Once you’ve helped me translate the book, you’ll help me-”

“I already told you that I can’t! Why are you still-”

“Marinette, my child. You’re failing to see the truth before your eyes.”

Truth? 

Why does she keep feeling this way? 

Why can’t she shake this feeling off? 

That something was happening and she couldn’t figure out what it was…

“Truth?”

“The truth. Your worth. Your potential.” Gabriel flipped to another page in his book. “You’re so busy trying to keep your emotions in check that you’ve become afraid of the possible aftermath that would happen if you let them out.”

Emotions in check? 

There it was again, her mind warning her about something…

“What are you-“

“Just imagine the creativity of your ideas if you just let them be, to let them happen without logic backing them up but instead emotion.”

“You’re not making any sen-“

“According to the grimoire, emotions allow a champion to become their greatest self, their power limitless if they allow their emotions to completely take over. Banshee-“ her breath hitched, “-was a perfect example of-“

“Stop it!” Marinette cut off, struggling to keep herself calm. The itching that began to gnaw on her skin didn’t help. “What do you know about-“

“I know a lot of people are against the idea of Hawkmoth’s guidance-“

“Guidance?” Marinette scoffed, hearing something inside her snap. “He uses a person’s greatest emotion and uses it to further his distorted desires, whatever it is. That’s not guidance. That’s manipulation.”

“But couldn’t the same be said about Ladybird?” 

All the buzzing in her head went silent.

“Ladybird?”

“Why yes. Despite her declaration after the defeat of Remidator, she has yet to complete her promise. Better yet, she had to gather help to take down Hawkmoth.”

“Because Hawkmoth has gotten stronger.” Marinette defended.

“That is true. But if that’s the case wouldn’t you think she would be in the front lines more than ever?”

“What do you mean more?”

“Oh.” Gabriel smirked. That couldn’t be good. “Haven’t you noticed? She hasn’t been on the frontlines for the past, I want to say, five akumas.”

“You probably didn’t see her.” Marinette tried to play off. “After all, now we have more than just her and Chat. We have two other heroes- Queen Bee and Carapace.” 

“Perhaps that is the case. But even when it was just the two of them, only Chat Noir would be seen more often; Ladybird would often make her entrance halfway through the fight. Wouldn’t you say she’s just using her supposed comrades to do the majority of the work before taking cre-”

“No! Why would she-”

“Why would she indeed? That is a good question. Do you want to know what I believe is to be the answer?”

Marinette sat there silently, allowing Gabriel to continue. “I think she wasn’t supposed to be Ladybird from the beginning.

She wasn’t meant to be the one to guide her team. I think Ladybird was supposed to be someone else. 

That the current one is only Ladybird now because she was a last resort.

After all that would be the only explanation behind her behavior. Why else would she be-“

“You’re  wrong.” Marinette tried to defend, but was coming with a blank. “Ladybird…Ladybird-”

“Ladybird is simply a placeholder and because of that, she can’t truly control her powers to its full extent. Why, with the most recent akuma proved that. Had she been the true Ladybug, Ladybird should have-”

“The power of the miraculous depends on the holder wielding the miraculous in that moment.” Marinette started, not really sure why she was even trying to defend herself, because Gabriel had a point…she couldn’t even hold up her end of her promise. 

Even with her comrades…she had yet to gather enough evidence and manpower to take down Hawkmoth. “Based on the holder’s compatibility, creativity and relation with the miraculous, the miraculous in use will be either at its most prime state or at its worst. 

Based on the latest additions to the grimoire, in comparison to her previous predecessors, our Ladybird seems to be the most astute of them all.” Marinette glared at Gabriel. 

That’s right.

Maybe she wasn’t the best Ladybug, but the new one will. They would have all the knowledge they would need to do what she couldn’t - defeat Hawkmoth!

The true Ladybug will triumph!

“So don’t say Ladybird isn’t fit for the job when she is! She will defeat Hawkmoth, just watch!” 

They just have to!

Standing up, Marinette marched back towards the doors that lead her to this room. “And if that’s all you wanted from me, then goodb-”

“And you called yourself useless.” Marinette turned around, wondering what he was talking about. “And yet you managed to tell me about a part of the book that doesn’t exist-”

 Oh…oh no…

”-unless you knew that the book’s information morphs as new wielders appear.” 

This…this was…this was all set up… it was a trap!

“Anyone who studies the grimoire for a bit more than a few months can figure out how the book works.” She tried to playoff.  “As for how I knew, it didn’t take much to figure it out as the pages mentioning older wielders were decorated differently compared to the newer pa-” 

“Two could play at that, Miss Dupin-Cheng....or should I say, Mlle Wayne?” Amira felt her heart stop, Gabriel internally grinning upon seeing her pale face. 

“What…what did you call me?” Was all she could say, Amira feeling her vision starting to narrow, her heart beating loudly in her ears. 

This wasn’t good, this wasn’t good, this wasn’t good!

She felt as her hands began to get clammy, growing warmer by the second. 

She tried to focus on anything else but the rising and falling of her chest, which just quickened with each second she paid attention to it didn’t allow her to breathe. 

“Destiny is a funny thing, Mlle Wayne.” Gabriel started off, deciding to flip onto the next page of the grimoire, deciding to not look up as he already knew he had her where he wanted her. “Everyone believes one can change their fate, but that is never the case. 

Decisions are made, whether one regrets them or not so that one day, the decisions start to have cohesion and start to create a picture. A meaning.

Losing your name, your identity, losing your brother and then your home. 

Even coming to Paris and attending Dupont - it all had its meaning. A purpose.

They all led to the day the grimoire made its way to your hands.” Gabriel looked up to see Amira frozen in place, her eyes quivering as she kept staring at him, her eyes getting glossier by the second. “It was all so that you and I could meet. For you to help me with my goal.”

“Wha-What are you talking about?” Amira asked in hopes of changing the subject, trying her best to keep her voice from shaking. Oh but how her eyes betrayed her, unshed tears pooling at the brim of her eyes. “And how-” 

“Interested, aren’t we?” Gabriel smirked. “Thanks to you confirming my theories of you knowing how to translate the grimoire and its other mysteries, I think I should let you in on a little secret. 

Remember how I stated that your translation helped to correct the mistakes I made on my own? Well, let me read to you one of my corrections.” Amira watched as he scanned the page before him. “Ah yes, a bit further from where I first left off.” 

Alongside sharing a telepathic connection, the butterfly user can perceive anything that their champion perceives, as well as everything the champion hears and feels emotionally. This is due to the miraculous’ acute ability to sense emotions, allowing the miraculous to precisely pinpoint a champion’s true identity so as to not mistakenly give another person the power selected for them.

In other words…” Gabriel trailed, grinning as he watched the child further process the passage he finished reading, watching as she silently watched in horror as an ever familiar glow appeared millimeters away from her face, causing her to let out a whimper. 

“No...it can’t-”

“But it is.” Gabriel said with a smile, snapping his book shut and getting up. “I felt the anger and pain you felt when that girl from school claimed to have known your brother. A brother who has long stopped roaming on this Earth. 

How no one believed you when you told them that girl was lying and you were telling the truth. 

It was I who offered a hand when no one else did. It was me who gave you the power to seek vengeance…Amira.” Gabriel made his way towards Amira, seeing the way the gears were beginning to spin in her head, the way tears began to cascade down her face. Gabriel called out a white butterfly, Amira watching it land gracefully onto his finger.

“You’re...you’re-”

“That’s right, Mlle Wayne.” Amira watched as the man clasped his hands over the white butterfly, a purple miasma abruptly consuming him, watching it glow before it revealed him in a completely different attire. 

Long gone was the white suit, a black one replacing it. His face was now covered by what she mistook for a helmet, black, except for the giant reflective butterfly covering the majority of his face. And in his hand, an akuma, glistening purple lines adorning its small miasmic wings.

So this is what Hawkmoth looked like…so this was the enemy she had perfectly pinpointed towards…the enemy she had allowed to get the better of her…

Thanks to the reflectiveness of his mask, she saw how the glitching glowing butterfly that was mere millimeters away from her face looked on her…how it perfectly framed her eyes. 

How it reminded her of her mistake. 

Of how she failed her team…

Paris…

Her father… 

She watched as the akuma flew away. “I am Hawkmoth and you, my fated pupil, will help me get what I want.

You will help me get Chat Noir and Ladybird’s miraculous, whether you want to or not.

After all, as long as my miraculous continues to remain broken, the link between us will continue.” 

He closed the distance between them, placing a hand on her shoulder. Tears began to fall down the young child’s face as he watched her process everything that has just transpired. “So I suggest you start to cooperate if you want to get rid of it…” He watched as it finally sunk into her, watching as she fell to her knees, one of her hands gripping at her chest. 

He crouched down to try and look at her. “I know this is well overdue, but-” Hawkmoth offered her a hand.

“Welcome to Paris, Mlle Wayne.”

NEXT

[epitomereally]

🎵 🎶 5 faves from H/D Wireless 2023: Week 1 🎶 🎵

@hd-wireless, as always, has served us excellence. Thank you to the creators & mods. Usual disclaimer: I haven’t read everything yet!

Fic:

(you) find me when the lights go down by anon (1800 words, T)

Harry can hear footsteps on the stairs behind him but doesn't bother turning to look. There's only one person likely to follow him out here at this time of night.

"Potter," comes the crisp voice, easily recognisable as Draco. "You do know that most sane people, especially those who spend every waking moment complaining of being cold, would cast a warming charm. Or at the very least grab a sweater. Not spend every night attempting to turn into an icicle." What makes someone a ghost? Because if it's dying, Harry's got that covered.

A beautiful exploration of Harry’s demons in eighth year & how Draco can help exorcise them. How do I know I'm not a ghost? just punched me the solar plexus, so beautiful and so awful for Harry, and how tenderly Draco treats him, while still being Draco. One of the two masterclasses in short fic on this list! How MA says so much in so few words—I’m in awe.

Don’t hate him when he gets up to leave by anon (2200 words, M)

The linens are white and empty, sunlight slanting through the window illuminating a bed that has been deserted. Draco knew Potter would leave; he’s always gone by morning. Draco doesn’t even remember what he looks like in daylight.

Three words: pining while fucking. PINING. WHILE. FUCKING. I don’t even need to write a rec for this fic. Please click the link just for that tag.

Just kidding: MA, you can shove your brand of angst down my throat any day. I had to stop myself from quoting the entire fic back at you in my comment. Your prose is so evocative and sparse and melancholy. Marry me, please?

Title & Possession by anon (49k words, E)

Harry Potter’s life is going well in the aftermath of the war. Sure, his house is dark and run-down and might hate him (while his house elf definitely hates him). But other than that, things are good. Except, yeah, okay, Hermione and Ron are no longer on speaking terms. Worse, they keep trying to get Harry to pick sides. But otherwise, Harry couldn’t be happier. Well. Except for the fact that Ginny is being super weird about their relationship and never wants to have sex or talk about the future. But other than that, Harry is perfectly fine, thankyouverymuch. At least, he is until Draco Malfoy sues him for ownership of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Then Harry really isn’t fine at all.

This fic is FUNNY. Harry is such a wally, so perfectly in-character as our awkward, repressed, depressed, hilarious little cinnamon roll (and Draco is so proud and petty and desperate for Harry too). The romance is so well-deserved by both, and we love a Harry-realizing-his-sexuality fic (SO well-done here—the tension is scorching!). 

Everybody Hates a Tourist by anon (51.5k, E)

On a stag do in sunny Brighton with the Gryffindor lads, the last person Harry expects to run into is Draco Malfoy. After a glimpse of Malfoy’s Muggle life in Britain’s gay capital, Harry’s curiosity gets the better of him and he finds himself returning to the seaside again and again, drawn to the city, drawn to this new version of Malfoy that Harry barely recognises from school. Meanwhile, Draco’s just trying to live his big and best queer life: working for the weekend, chasing hot men, getting lost in Brighton's nightlife, and making friends with the neighbourhood cats. Why does his former school rival and crush have to show up and spoil everything?

An absolute banger on the first day of the fest. Come for the absolutely perfect characterization of Harry & Draco, stay for the lush descriptions of Brighton and EVERYWHERE. The perfect start-of-summer fic, absolutely impeccable, gentle, gorgeous summer vibes (conveniently when where I live FINALLY started getting hot). So many elements to love here: Harry learning about himself, gently and with grace from everyone around him, the TEXTING (absolutely perfect), the side characters with perfect characterization (Seamus at the hotel!), the flirting, DRACO BUYING HARRY A LEATHER JACKET (;_;). Just bury me dead; this fic was so lovely & it’s all I need.

Art:

Alive by anon (E)

Harry is lost after the final battle, but he finds comfort from an unexpected source.

Eighth year will forever have my heart for some angsty healing, and MA has captured this so beautifully. This art is not only beautiful (the animations! the color palette! both Harry & Draco! Idk how to compliment art!), but it’s such a gorgeous journey for Harry—from the trauma of the war towards happiness again. Exactly what our darling boy deserves <3

[im-not-batman]

Since Ao3 is down, I thought I'd post an old fic on here in the interest of keeping us all sane. Enjoy <3

Bloomed into Blue | Ronance | Rated G | 8,399 words

Nancy wanted to scream, tear out her hair, throw a tantrum and yell about how unfair it all was. Being in a professional work environment made that difficult though.

Instead, she smiled and clapped as she watched yet another of her colleagues collect on the rewards of her hard work. She sat in her seat for as long as she could stomach, and then broke away to hide in the bathroom until she felt like she could be in the office without feeling the urge to break something.

This marked the fifth time that one of her coworkers had gotten recognition for her research, her writing, or her investigating, and she was sick of it. After her stint at the paper in Hawkins, she had expected some disadvantages in her working life, but this was ridiculous. She had put more hours of work into that last story than anyone on the team, it had even become a running joke in the office that she spent more time here than at home! How could she have gone unrecognised again?

If only it was socially appropriate to send your boss into the hell dimension underneath your hometown, she thought fancifully. He certainly wouldn't underestimate her or her mettle ever again, but it would likely raise other issues.

So instead of doing what she wanted to do, what she felt like doing, she muscled it all down, dusted off her skirt, straightened her already perfectly laid blouse and looked at herself in the mirror.

"You deserve better," she told herself, firm and assured, "go out there and demand better."

She gritted her teeth, took a deep breath, and left the bathroom, beelining for her manager's office across the floor. She caught a few comments from the piggish men in their cubicles about how 'it must be that time of the month' or about 'how sensitive women are these days'. These were the sorts of comments that had become commonplace, really. Ordinarily, she'd have a quip or scathing remark to throw their way, but right now, she was on a mission.

Seeing that Jerry was free, she walked straight in without knocking. By way of greeting, she planted her hands firmly on her hips. Robin would call it a power pose and point out how odd it was that polite and demure Nancy Wheeler had grown into who she had.

"Miss Wheeler, what can I do for you?" Jerry started, but it wasn't a genuine question. He wasn't even paying the courtesy of looking at her and was instead polishing a tacky golf ornament that he kept on his desk.

"I want it on the record that I should have received a share in that raise," that was generous really, she should have received the entire raise. Frank had spent the last three weeks making unhelpful comments and sleeping through group meetings, instead of organising them like he should have been. Nancy decided, though, that if she made that observation known to her boss, she'd be on the entire company's shit-list.

"Wheeler, Frank was head writer on that project, it was his story, he got the raise," he already had the glazed-over look in his eye that she recognised all too well. She'd seen it enough times when she'd tried to engage her father in any kind of conversation that involved her passions.

"That's just it, sir, I did more work than anybody on this one. Ask around. I've worked more hours than anybody else in the department, I spent all my free time researching and I wrote almost the entire article–"

Jerry put up a condescending hand to stop her, "you chose to do those things, no one asked you to, darlin'." He said deliberately.

Nancy ground her teeth and lifted her chin – Lord knows she's put up with worse than a little misogyny. She poured all the false respect she had into her voice as she replied.

"All due respect, sir, but it never would have made it to print if it weren't for me."

"Fortunately, we'll never know," he said with a smugly patronising smile.

Nancy seethed. She opened her mouth to argue again, but he raised that damned hand again. This time he made a shooing motion. Like she was little better than a misbehaving child. Worse than that; like she was a creature he didn't care to even feign his respect for.

Without hesitation, and with all the surety she could muster, Nancy stood her ground and with a deep breath announced: "Jerry, I quit."

The moment the words were out of her mouth an overwhelming sense of relief washed over her. A heavy burden was lifted off of her shoulders and she felt like she could straighten her spine for the first time since she'd taken this god-forsaken job.

"Don't be stupid, Wheeler," Jerry warned, still with the tone of condescension, like it was his default when he spoke to her.

"Oh this is the smartest thing I could possibly do, right now, I deserve better than this." A smirk was fast-developing across her face, the apathy she had now that she wasn't worried about her job caused a little of her ruthlessness to slip through her crafted 'girl-next-door' veneer, "this paper will drown without me."

"Hah!" Her boss chortled, "you won't last a week out there in this business."

"I've faced down serial killers and won, Jerry. I'll be just fine."

Taking more than a little satisfaction in the astounded look on her ex-boss's face, she turned on her heel and walked out. Without slowing, she hooked her bag over her shoulder as she passed her desk and then walked out the front door. Not so much as a glance back before she stepped out into the crisp Chicago air.

Walking away from the building, Nancy felt like she could finally breathe properly. She'd spent her entire tenure there shaping herself into the boxes they wanted her in, squeezing herself into categories that made the men around her comfortable. When she thought about it, she'd done that her whole life.

She always made herself smaller to be more acceptable to those around her. People struggled to handle her competence and drive – it tended to make them feel inadequate – and so they found ways to limit her to make her more palatable. And when she'd gotten used to people reacting to her that way, to them wrestling down those parts of her personality, she'd started doing it preemptively.

Walking out of that no-name paper had been a wake up call. An opportunity to reset. Remove the mask.

She felt powerful.

So when she got home, jobless and pretty much penniless, she was smiling.

"What are you doing here so early?" Eddie asked from his spot on the sofa, guitar in hand, when she walked through the door.

"I just quit my job," Nancy replied. She was a little breathless, likely owed to the four flights of stairs up to their place, but it was also partly because she felt a bit giddy saying it outloud.

"Alright, Wheeler," he praised, setting down his prized guitar and holding up an appreciative fist for her to bump. She grinned and did so proudly. If she could count on anyone to be delighted about her joblessness, she could count on him. He'd been encouraging her to quit for almost as long as she'd worked there. Eddie wasn't one to suffer fools and so the very first time Nancy had come home seething about the blatant unfairness she was experiencing, that had been his immediate suggestion.

To begin with, she had found it infuriating. The fact that Eddie thought she could be content in giving up so easily and letting them win was insulting. She was too good for that; she was too smart, too stubborn.

Nancy refused to give in so easily. She was determined that once she proved herself useful, if she did what they asked, went above and beyond, they'd have to take her seriously. She thought she'd finally be given the lead on the important stories. She was a talented, hard-hitting, investigative journalist. She was wasted on boring puff pieces that only existed to fill in the gaps on the pages. She was naïve enough to think that her boss would see that in time. Clearly she had been wrong.

As she flopped down onto the sofa beside her best friend, she resented him a little. Things were so much easier for him – since they'd left Hawkins and the people who called him 'murderer' and 'Satanist' behind, at least. While he'd certainly understand some prejudices and unreasonable roadblocks in his day to day, his life would never be complicated by sexism. When he was good at things, that was taken at face value; he was allowed to be good at them. When he felt something, he didn't have to reign himself in or risk accusations of 'hysteria'. He didn't have to worry about saying or doing the wrong thing, and having that mistake reflect on every woman in the field.

She loved Eddie dearly, but he would never truly understand. So when he gave his advice, it was sometimes a bit too flippant, a bit too blasé.

But even when he couldn't help, he'd always be there with Nance to celebrate her wins. So she leaned against his side and smiled when he squeezed her tight and told her (not for the first time) that she was the baddest badass in the history of badassery.

"Alright, alright," Nancy grinned, pushing him away playfully. Eddie had a very physical way of showing his support and affection. Sometimes, it was a little stifling. She gave him a warm smile anyway, "Do you know what their shifts are today?" She asked, gesturing towards the ceiling. Robin and Steve lived in the flat above them, which conveniently concentrated all of Nancy's favourite people (bar a few) into one apartment block.

Eddie smirked and leaned back, picking up his guitar in one fluid motion, "Robin has today off if that's what you're asking," he said, playing a guitar riff that was vaguely familiar.

She rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue at him as she stood to head upstairs. She ignored it when he affectionately flipped the bird in her direction.

When she knocked on their door, it took a second for there to be a response. Nancy understood why when Robin came to the door dressed in coveralls that were more paint than fabric.

"Hey Robin-a-Roo, busy day?" She chuckled, a little sarcastically.

"You don't even know the half of it, Nance," Robin sighed with false weariness as she turned to walk back into the apartment with a broad grin.  She left the door open for Nancy to follow her.

Nancy smiled with amused shock when she reached Robin's room.

Every surface was covered in sheets of tarp, save for one wall which was smattered with splats vibrant colour.

There were open cans of paint in every colour you could imagine lined up on the floor (also protected with plastic), and there were various paint brushes and tools strewn about. When she looked at Robin again though, she saw that clearly she had leaned in favour of using her bare hands for this endeavour.

"Voilà!" Robin announced, waving her arms dramatically at the wall. Her face was adorned with a broad and bright grin that reached her eyes. Nancy's chest flowered with warmth.

"Cool," she said with a smile of her own, "there's almost as much paint on the wall as there is on you."

"Oh, excuse me for getting excited at the prospect of flinging colours around," Robin rolled her eyes good-naturedly and turned to admire her messy work.

Nancy laughed again and looked at the set up Robin had going.

She grinned, "looks like fun."

Robin beamed and turned to face Nancy again, "it's a great stress reliever. Wanna join?" She wiggled her eyebrows in challenge.

"Oh I wouldn't want to ruin it," she replied, suddenly feeling sheepish and vulnerable.

Robin's voice dropped a little, and she smirked, teasing, "ruin my completely random, zero skill required, messy, impulsive, paint splashing?"

Nancy frowned, "Impulsive? Didn't you get the landlord's permission?" She asked.

"There wasn't time! I had to go to the hardware store to get the tarps and paint and then I was deciding which wall to do it on and covering everything else with plastic and tape!" She spoke while waving her arms around dramatically, clearly just trying to make Nancy laugh. It worked.

"Don't worry I'll paint over it when I move out," she promised and wiggled her fingers ominously as she asked, "so are you getting your hands dirty or what?"

This time it was Nancy who rolled her eyes, "Fine, but I don't really have any clothes I'd be okay with getting paint on."

"Just borrow mine," Robin offered without hesitation, already dipping a hand into a truly alarming shade of bright green and admiring the way it dripped from her long fingers.

She grinned at Robin's ease at offering up her clothes for her to essentially ruin. The trust that Nancy would know the right clothes to pick, the inherent intimacy of sharing clothes, shocked her a little.

An indescribable warmth spread through her chest as she rifled through the drawers. She grabbed a grubby old work shirt that she knew Robin only kept for messy projects like this, since it was embroidered with a company logo. And she recognised a pair of dungarees she'd seen Robin wear before – she had a habit of drawing on the knees and wiping dirt and dyes and all sorts all over them, so she assumed a little paint would be fine – and took them to the bathroom to change.

When she came back into Robin's room, Nancy lingered at the door. Robin had put on some music (apparently not minding her tape deck getting a little colourful) and was jumping around dancing to David Bowie. With her eyes closed, she didn't see Nancy return and so was unencumbered by embarrassment or shyness.

Robin smiled bright, she occasionally flicked out her arms towards the paint wall, leaving a splatter of neon green from the arc of her hands as she danced. It was pure joy. Nancy couldn't keep herself from joining.

As the chorus hit, she jumped into Robin's room, dancing like no one was watching and she started singing along. Well, shouting would be more accurate.

At first her friend looked caught. Like she didn't mean for anyone to see her goofing around dancing to one of her favourite songs, so Nancy made sure to act even goofier. Even out the playing field.

Robin's face then transformed into something akin to awe. Like she couldn't believe that Nancy was there. Finally, her expression turned into one of sheer happiness as she started dancing again and joining Nancy in her shout-singing of the chorus.

As the song faded out, they found themselves theatrically falling to the ground out of breath, the plastic rustled beneath them. Any of Nancy's lingering annoyance for the people at her old job had been drowned out by the utter joy that coursed through her now.

She sighed as she finally regained her wind, "I needed that," she smiled as she sat up to look at the wall again, "so what do you want me to do?"

Robin mumbled something as she sat up herself, but it was garbled by the sound of the effort she took. When Nancy turned to look at her, Robin looked confused. "What do you mean? Just do what you want, man. Go with your feels, let the music move you."

The last words were said in a floaty sing-song that made Nancy giggle, as she watched Robin rock back and forth, out of time to the new song that had started playing, "sometimes I forget your parents were hippies, and then you go and say something like that."

Robin chuckled as she got to her feet, offering Nancy a hand, "seriously, Nance, just do what feels right, there's not a pattern to follow or a quota to meet, just–" She bent over abruptly, dunking her hands in a paint can and threw her arms out at the wall again, "dip and fling."

Nancy's smile felt like it'd rip her face in half. "Dip and fling," she tried to say seriously and failed.

She did exactly that, though: dipped her hands into a lovely shade of bright sky blue, and swung her arms out, watching the paint drops flick from her fingers in an arc and hit the plaster with a satisfying splat. She threw her arms about in every direction she could think of until the paint on her hands ran out and then she stood back, admiring her handiwork. It was messy and dripping down towards the ground already. It was perfect. Nancy looked over to Robin for her approval but she was already looking right at her with a huge grin, bouncing in place.

"Atta girl, Nance," she said, quieter than Nancy had expected her to speak. There was a strain behind it, like she was holding back. Nancy didn't really know how to respond, so she flicked the tiniest bit of remaining paint at Robin's chest playfully and then bent to get the next colour to decorate the wall.

For the next few hours they remained there, in a bubble, goofing around, listening to music, making a mess. The world may as well have disappeared for all they knew. In their little room, with Robin's ratty old speakers blasting Blondie and Bowie and Bonnie Tyler, Nancy felt freer than she had in months.

Only when they started to get hungry did they realise how much time had passed and by then, Robin's bedroom wall looked positively psychedelic.

"Wow," Nancy chuckled when she stood back and took a proper look at the project. She hadn't really expected it to look as beautiful as it did, a little worried that the paints would congeal and dull into brown. Instead it made up a maelstrom of brightly coloured nonsense. Something like glee bubbled in the pit of her stomach.

"Right?!" Robin exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of her feet and wriggling her fingers in that cute way she did when something excited her. Nancy found herself hiding a private smile behind her curls before Robin could see her blush. Get a grip, Nancy.

They went off to clean themselves up in the bathroom, rinsing off what they could from their hands and arms. Robin hand shrugged off the top half of her coveralls and tied it around her waist. It was unbearably attractive. Nancy endeavoured not to stare by staring diligently at her own hands as she scrubbed them.

"So," Robin said, breaking the silence, "how are you now?" Robin asked and Nancy snapped her head back up in surprise at the question.

"What do you mean?" Nancy asked, acting as casual as she could manage.

Now Robin seemed to shrink a little, like she was embarrassed, "I mean – um – well, about the paper, I guess."

"Oh," she sighed, biting her lip, and Robin looked abruptly away. Nancy tried to lighten her tone "did Eddie somehow tell you when I wasn't looking?" 

"No, no, he didn't," Robin assured her quickly, "I just assumed. Since you're here… in the middle of the day. And I know you've been really unhappy there and you've been thinking about talking to your boss which I can't imagine going well since he's, like, a rich, old, white man. Not that I think you'd have said anything to get fired! It's just that that is what men are like, you know?"

Nancy found herself laughing at her companion's rambling and put a hand on her shoulder to keep her from rambling herself in circles, "I know. But I feel great, Robin."

She seemed to release the tension from her shoulders then, and relaxed under Nancy's hand. Robin was smiling but wouldn't look her in the eye, a sort of bashfulness overtaking her. It was painfully cute.

All Nancy could think about at that moment was how effortlessly Robin had re-routed her day to include her and help her forget the terrible day she'd had up until then. How easily she had brightened her mood, lifted her out of her anger and upset, by knowing exactly what would cheer her up.

"Thank you," Nancy said, and without her brain's permission her throat knotted which doused the words in emotion. She felt her lip quiver and took a breath to contain herself.

Before she could process what was happening, Robin had engulfed her in a hug. Her arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders, face buried somewhere near Nancy's collarbone. One hand brushed up and down her back while the other held her close, and both movements were immensely soothing. She felt safe, cared for. Tears began to fall.

"I'm sorry," Nancy apologised, looping an arm around Robin's waist while the other was trapped against her chest.

"You don't need to apologise."

"I'm just so angry, you know?" She gasped in a soggy breath, "I work so hard and do so much and it's never even noticed."

"I know," Robin whispered.

"It's not fair."

"It's not, you deserve better."

Nancy pulled away, not even enough to break their hold on each other, to look at Robin when she admitted, "That's what I said when I quit."

Robin's eyes lit up, "you quit?" She surged forwards again and held Nancy so tightly, her ribs complained.

"Nance, I'm so proud of you," she was whispering into Nancy's hair again but this time, it was cheerful.

Nancy's smile was watery but genuine when she tightened her arms around the person that always made her feel so much better.

She avoided visiting home as much as she could these days. She'd left Hawkins for a reason, so of course coming back was always slightly sour.

She'd outgrown this town years ago and being back was suffocating. There were a few moments of reprieve; when she got a moment alone with her mum and she gushed about how proud she was of all Nancy had accomplished, when she could get away to see Robin or the Byers-Hoppers (Steve and Eddie had stayed back in Chicago for the holidays, Wayne insisted he come up to them). Mostly though, it was horrible.

She only had to get through two more days. Two days and then she'll be free – she'll hightail it over to the Buckleys', grab Robin and haul ass straight back home.

Until then though, she had to sit through conversations with her family members. The questions she could handle, the small talk was mind-numbing but bearable, but when they started proffering their opinions on things? She hated it. Not so much from the more distant family members, random cousins and uncles that felt the need to put in their two cents – that much was expected and easily ignored. When it came from her dad though, the man she was supposed to look up to, the man whose thoughts had meant so much to her once upon a time (and still did if she was honest with herself), it was a much harsher blow.

She'd just finished recounting the story of how she'd left her job a few months ago and gotten a much better one for another paper. She had thought that her dad would be proud of her, would praise her for knowing her own value and succeeding because of it. Instead he'd hardly looked away from the television, and when he did, he regarded her with derision.

"What's the matter?" Nancy asked, her excited smile from recounting the tale beginning to drop.

"I don't understand why you bother working at all, Nancy. You ought to get married and settle down. You need to be tamed."

She felt like he'd slapped her across the face. He may as well have. She didn't think there was anything he could say that would have hurt worse than that. Ted turned towards the TV again without a second thought, probably already forgetting what he'd said to his daughter. Nancy felt the threat of tears prick her sinuses so she stood and made for her old bedroom before anyone could see her cry.

Despite her fury, she tried hard not to slam the door behind her, instead taking out her frustrations on the drawers. She gripped the wood until her knuckles turned white, her breathing turned erratic as she wrestled her instinct to shout and fight and make him understand.

She wished she was home again. Not for the first time that day, and likely not for the last.

She wanted to be back in Chicago with Eddie and Steve and Robin. The people who understood her, supported her, bolstered even her most outlandish ideas. She missed Eddie's look of awe at everything she did – it was disastrously nourishing to her ego, but she loved that he thought she was "the coolest cat since sliced bread". His words.

Nancy missed talking things through with Steve, she loved his level-headedness and balance. It usually meant that whatever scheme she had cooked up somehow ended up much more effective. He'd occasionally try and talk her down, but he knew her well by now. Knew her stubborn nature.

And she missed Robin. Just Robin. The way she'd always be there. Always cheering her on, always holding her hand when she needed it.

Right now she just wanted her friends.

Unfortunately, whatever higher power was up there felt differently and instead sent Mike.

He lightly knocked and then let himself into the room, seemingly completely unaware of how upset she was.

"Nancy, can you drive me to Will's later?" It was clear that he didn't expect any answer other than a happy 'yes'. He had barely stepped into the room and was already turning to go, knowing he'd not need to fight his case.

Nancy gritted her teeth against the instinct to snap at her brother. After all, he hadn't done anything wrong; she was angry at Ted, not at him.

"Sure," she answered through gritted teeth, giving him a false smile that would fool no one.

Mike looked to take it at face value for a moment, considering whether he should ask her or not. He wavered on the threshold  and eventually decided. He looked at her again, this time actually paying attention.

"What's got you all bent out of shape?" He asked. It wasn't unkind, just sort of… thoughtless. It annoyed her all over again.

"Nothing," her voice came out tight and strained, "dad's just– god, he thinks I need to be 'tamed'!" She didn't mean to say it, it wasn't Mike's problem, she knew he wouldn't understand, but she felt like she was going to explode if she didn't let some of her rage free. Like letting steam out of an over-boiling pot.

Mike looked nonplussed and simply stood there as she recounted her father's words and ranted a little. She gestured wildly in her fury and paced the floor. When she was done, she looked to her brother, hoping for sympathy, maybe even understanding.

She was disappointed.

"I mean, he's not wrong. When you have a house and a family, you won't have time to work. That's what girls do, right?" Mike looked like that was the most sensible thing in the world. Like it was fair. Expected. Nancy wanted to throw him out of her window.

"No, Mike, we don't," she spat, "we tend to be living, breathing creatures with brains and ambitions of our own."

Mike looked shocked, he didn't expect her to react so bitterly. He must have noticed his error because he quickly added, "well, that's just what mom did, I guess you can do whatever you want though."

It should have been enough to placate her, really. Mike was young, a product of his sheltered, privileged upbringing. He didn't know better unless someone taught him better. But Nancy was so tired of teaching people things. Sometimes she wished they'd just know.

So she turned away, silently fuming. She gazed out the window, briefly fantasising about an escape plan.

"Can you still give me a ride?" Mike asked, voice small and cautious. This time unsure of what the answer would be.

She put effort into making her voice softer this time, "Yes, Mike, be ready in thirty."

"It can be later if you want, I don't mind," he didn't sound sure, he was clearly still tiptoeing.

"Don't be silly," Nancy rolled her eyes with a sigh, "you'd rather be at Will's than listening to Aunt Carol sing White Christmas badly."

That managed to share a smile between them, tension dropped as they complained together about their very annoying relatives.

When her brother left to pack his overnight bag, Nancy was left to her own devices. A dangerous thing for a woman of her brains, capability and desperation to escape.

In the end she didn't need a grand plan. She was an adult. With her own home and her own car. She could just leave. So she gathered together her things haphazardly and while no one was looking, snuck outside to sling her bags into the back seat.

As she looked back at the house, hoping that Mike would be ready to go, she caught sight of her mum gliding across the window with Holly on her hip. Suddenly she couldn't allow herself to just leave without saying goodbye to them.

Ducking back inside, she managed to dodge beckons for her attention by pretending to need something in the kitchen, but she knew that would hardly work for long. So when she found her rearranging a couple of decorations absently, Holly had since gone off to do her own thing, she grabbed her mum by her wrists and dragged her along.

"Nancy, sweetie," Karen chuckled, trusting her daughter and going along without a fuss. Safely tucked away, she turned to her but clearly hadn't schooled her features well enough.

"You look… thunderous, Nance, are you okay?" She swept a hand down the side of Nancy's face, taming a stray curl and then moving to hold her chin gently.

"I can't be here after what dad said. I can't." Nancy admitted, "I'm leaving, but I needed to say goodbye."

Her mum's face softened in sympathy and she pulled her into a comforting, motherly hug, "it's okay, I understand."

There was no heat in her mother's voice. No strain of upset, no anger, no disappointment. Just love and compassion.

It made sense, really; if anyone was going to understand how it felt to be on the receiving end of her father's soul-crushing remarks and almost neglectful disinterest, it'd be Karen Wheeler.

Nancy squeezed her a little tighter.

"Okay, Wonder Woman," Karen huffed out a small laugh, "best get going before the crowd thins and they notice you leaving, eh?"

Nancy nodded with a sad smile, "thank you," she said. The words were small and broken, her heart broke a little bit too.

Her mother rubbed her back soothingly, "can I see you again before you head home? Or are you leaving tonight?"

"I'm just going to Robin's for now," she assured her. She pulled out of the hug but kept their hands gripped together, "I'll come see you before we go home."

"No no, I'll come see you, we can go for coffee or something." Something in the way her mum said it made Nancy want to cry. Like she was just as desperate to get out, even if only for a few hours.

"Sounds perfect," Nancy smiled knowingly, and before she lost her resolve she took a deep breath, "you know, you and Holly are always welcome in Chicago. Eddie can stay at Robin and Steve's and we'll have the apartment to ourselves."

Tears welled in her mother's eyes, and her lip quivered but she was smiling and nodding gently, "that would be lovely, Nance." She surged forward and wrapped her daughter in a bear hug, "I'm so proud of you. You are a wonderful, wonderful woman."

Nancy pulled back and beamed at her mother, "I got it from my mom," her voice was warm and thick with affection. She hoped it came across in those simple words, just how much she meant it.

Karen's eyes were still welled up but she was stoically fighting them back, determined not to cry. Nancy had seen that look in the mirror.

"I love you, mom," Nancy said, with one last squeeze of her mother's hand.

"Love you more, honey," she smiled through glistening eyes, "now go go go!"

Nancy did just so. She found Holly over by the unsupervised plate of cookies, kissed her goodbye and slipped out in the middle of a loud argument about who sang 'White Christmas' originally. Mike was waiting by the car with a bag slung on his shoulders.

As she pulled up to the Buckleys' house that evening, having dropped Mike off, she'd had plenty of time to consider what she was doing and work herself into knots.

It was unfair of her to spring this on Robin, for her to invite herself over until they decided to go home. It was the holidays, the Buckleys were probably busy with family things. Family that didn't include her.

Nancy was seconds away from driving off without even knocking the door when she caught movement from the corner of her eye.

"What are you doing here, Nance?" Robin asked, running up to the car and flinging the door open a broad smile lighting up her beautifully freckled features. She yanked Nancy out of the driver's seat to pull her into a bone crunching hug.

When she could breathe again, Nancy answered without answering, "I'm so sorry to just turn up like this."

Robin waved her off dramatically with a scoff, "you're always welcome, Nance, my parents love you." The thought made Nancy grin.

"So are you staying the night? Or is this a flying visit? Because if you're staying that'd be super helpful because we've got an odd number so games are a little harder. You can be on my team? I bet my dad will try to steal you though. For your brain." She said the last part with a strange seriousness that was rarely found on her face. Nancy laughed.

"I was hoping to stay the night?" She admitted, "I promise I'll be on your team," she added to sweeten the deal. Robin made a not-so-subtle fist pump and then leaned into the car to grab Nancy's bags. She headed into the house without another word, so Nancy assumed that it was okay. That she was welcome. She trailed up the path behind her friend.

When she stepped inside, she was sweetly assaulted by the smell of gingerbread and wintery herbs. The warmth that spread from the hearth in the living room bled into her bones and warmed her soul. There were carols playing delicately from the radio in the kitchen. Robin had disappeared into her bedroom down the hall, deposited Nancy's bags and returned, stopping through said kitchen, to pick up a bounty of cookies that she offered up.

Nancy took one with a smile. It was such a stark contrast to the chaos of Christmas at her parents'. No overbearing relatives telling her that she looked tired and hadn't done her hair right. No screaming cousins trying to hang off of her arms the moment she appeared. It was peaceful.

Only now, in the lull, did Nancy realise that Robin was wearing the sweater she'd given her for Christmas. It was mostly blue, slightly faded in places, with grey sleeves that frayed at the cuffs and in embroidered lettering across the chest, it read 'I'm a bottomless sea'. She'd found it in a thrift store back in Chicago and immediately imagined Robin wearing it.

Nancy was suddenly overwhelmed by how happy she was to be there.

"Are you sure it's okay with your parents that I'm here?" She asked, worried that she'd disrupt the atmosphere like a hostile species introduced to a thriving ecosystem.

"Let's go ask, Nancy-pants," Robin said through a cheekful of gingerbread. Nancy rolled her eyes at the moniker but followed her as she made off towards the living room.

Robin placed the cookies onto the coffee table and spoke along as she signed to her mother on the couch, "Nancy's here, can she stay the night?"

Mrs Buckley seemed to bolt upright at that and Nancy flinched, preparing to be kicked out. But as she turned and their eyes met, it was clear her worry was for nothing. Mrs Buckley beamed at her with a familiar smile that she'd obviously passed onto her daughter.

Nancy had only been learning sign language for a few months but she had a grasp on the basics. So when Mrs Buckley signed enthusiastically – "Of course! Have you had dinner already?" – Nancy was already bringing up her hands to respond when Robin started to translate.

Nancy felt something flutter in her chest at Robin's surprised, perhaps even impressed, expression.

It was senseless, really; she was sure that she signed like a five-year-old. Robin had no reason to be impressed. Still, though, she felt a blush begin to burn her cheeks.

To Nancy's horror, Mrs Buckley was looking directly at her. A knowing, sly smile encroached on her usually soft, amiable features; she looked downright devious.

This time when Nancy's stomach flipped, she knew it was a concoction made up of embarrassment, nerves and general inner turmoil. She shot a (hopefully subtle) panicked glance at Robin's mother who responded in kind with a subtle wink.

Dear God, I'm screwed, she thought, disastrously aware of her own inability to mask her fast-growing crush. And now said crush's mother was also aware. Fantastic.

She signed an incoherent excuse and all but sprinted to the bathroom to escape the scrutiny of Mrs Buckley's gaze. She pointlessly hoped that the reaction wasn't too transparent. But Robin wasn't a fool. For all the nonsense she rattled out in a day, there was twice as much going on in her mind that was useful. Nancy hoped in vain that the revelation of her feelings were shrouded in the layers of nonsense.

She splashed some cold water on her face and laughed a little hysterically.

She came here to escape the crushing weight of being misunderstood, of being a disappointment, and the claustrophobic press of expectation from her family. Now, here with the Buckleys, she was having a hard time being seen. Ironic, really.

There was a light tap on the door, loud enough to be heard, quiet enough not to startle. Robin's voice came through the door.

"Nance, are you okay?" She sounded worried. Nancy didn't want that.

"I'm fine, Robin-a-Roo," she said with wavering cheer as she unlocked the door, giving Robin a reassuring smile as she came in and closed the door behind her, "it's just weird being home."

Robin just nodded, looking down at her fingers where they fidgeted with the rings there. Nancy fought the urge to take those restless hands into hers.

She was nervous, fidgeting in that way she did when she had pent up feelings that needed to be let out. Robin shifted foot to foot, rhythmically swaying in time with a heartbeat. Nancy grinned and started moving along with her, the monotony peaceful and calming.

After a moment, Robin's eyes lifted up to Nancy's, determined and she spoke a little hurriedly – like she didn't want to not say it – "Why'd you come here, Nance?"

A little taken aback, it took Nancy a moment to realise what she'd been asked. She just blinked, calibrating and considering.

The truth was, the only time she felt relaxed was around Robin. The only time she felt completely herself was existing in the warm glow of Robin's presence. There was nothing she needed to do, nothing she had to explain or justify, she could just be. Any time spent in Robin's company was soothing, she came out of it feeling better, not worse.

That was more than she could say for anyone else in her life.

Mostly, her mother was kind, supportive. But there were times she'd make a needless comment about how skinny she was, or she'd sideways glance at something Nancy had said.

Then there was Steve. Sure, she and Steve were close. She trusted him with her life. But he knew her before. There was still a part of him that thought she might be happy living the small-town life. A part of him that still saw delicate and dainty little Nancy, whether he knew it consciously or not. She could see it, though.

And of course, Eddie was her best friend, her confidant, but he couldn't get it. They were fundamentally different: he followed his heart while she followed her head; he was happy to say a firm "fuck you" to society and live on the outside forever, she was determined to force society into submission until it accepted her, moulded around her. She sometimes felt like he was telling her to give up. Not outright, but it felt that way.

The kids still had a lot to learn. There was a lot they didn't understand just by virtue of their youth. And Nancy would never want to burden them with her own worries.

Robin never let her feel like a burden. She always understood her goals and ambitions. She always reminded her of exactly how much she was capable of. Never put her down or questioned her expertise.

"You get me," Nancy over-simplified, "and I'm happier with you than I am with anyone else."

That seemed to cause some sort of a crisis. Robin suddenly stopped rocking, her fingers stopped fidgeting. Nancy ducked to look her in the eyes, trying to decipher the reaction, and was surprised to find a glint of pride, and a whole lot of happiness bundled into the blue of her eyes.

"I don't have to be 'Nancy', you know?" She tried to explain, but she knew it was an asinine attempt, "I can stop being 'me' for a bit…"

Robin's mouth hung open slightly, toying with a sentence that Nancy could already tell would be rushed and chaotic and jumbled. It made her smile.

Just as Nancy was about to break the silence herself, Robin took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Her voice still sounded strained when she spoke, though. Like she was fighting something back.

"I feel the same about you," the rasp in her voice was more pronounced than usual.

"Really?"

Robin nodded gently, starting to rock again, "you never tell me to slow down when I talk too fast. You let me go off on pointless tangents and talk about random things I find cool. You've never told me to stop moving around – actually you copy me sometimes, and I love it." Her smile was back, but she couldn't look Nancy in her eyes still. Instead, her gaze darted around the small room, settling on anything but Nancy's face.

"You've never made me feel like I'm too much or too loud or too annoying," Robin admitted, Nancy felt her own breath catch and her ribs constrict, "I can be myself when you're here. I kind of want you around all the time."

"You do?" Nancy asked, sounding a little broken.

Robin nodded again with a private smile. It was unsure and quiet. At that, Nancy knew that she needed to be honest.

With a sudden rush of clarity, bravery and affection, she couldn't hold it in anymore.

"I want to be around you all the time," Nancy confessed breathlessly – even to her own ears it sounded more like a plea than a statement.

Only then did Robin's eyes meet hers. There was a hint of something like hope or nerves or excitement in them. Perhaps all three were swimming around in the glassy blue at once; Robin always had kept her feelings in shallow waters. The smallest ripple or break in the surface tension and all came spilling out of her in a crashing cascade of consciousness.

Right now, she was keeping an awful lot at bay – Nancy could see the strain of it in the curve of her raised shoulders, the way that she was curled in on herself.

Nancy took a step forward, something bold taking her over. She reached out to rest her hands on Robin's, hoping that the tremble in them wasn't too noticeable.

She didn't think too much about how automatically she had pulled their clasped hands up to her lips, kissing Robin's knuckles gently. Nancy's entire being thrummed with anticipation at the shiver Robin was unable to suppress at the contact.

The bathroom suddenly felt very, very small. Too small to contain the unspoken words, the inescapable tension, the feelings that were building up to a fever pitch. Nancy felt the pressure of it all squeezing the air from her lungs until she could only draw ragged breaths.

She'd been circling her feelings for Robin for months, only able to keep her distance this long with conscious and continuous effort. The moment her concentration had slipped, her brain had been sucked into the whirlpool that was her obsession with Robin Buckley. Now that she'd gotten this far, she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to pull away again.

They drifted closer still. Nancy's hands had found their way to Robin's waist now, holding on to her belt loops and pulling her ever closer. She struggled to keep her eyes from honing in on Robin's full lips. Their height difference made that hard; they were directly at eye level, and so she got a front row seat to her tongue darting quickly across her bottom lip.

Nancy was hopelessly staring now.

Just barely registering that Robin's hands were shaking, Nancy could feel them slide up her shoulders and settle at the base of her skull. Leaving trails of goosebumps behind with the touch. She fought a shiver. Her entire body pulsed with energy.

She slowly, deliberately pulled herself to her full height and rolled up onto her tiptoes. The distance between them was negligible now, but Nancy kept it there for the moment. Instead of pulling them together completely, she moved her grip, balling her fists into Robin's sweater. The sweater Nancy had gotten for her.

It matched Robin's eyes almost perfectly.

In a broken whisper, Nancy confessed, "I would really like to kiss you."

The words tore a half panicked laugh out of Robin's throat. Nancy almost laughed too, at the look of irritation on her companion's face, like she was inwardly cursing herself.

"Sorry about that," Robin said once she'd gathered herself, and then made an over-serious, sobered face, "I think you deserve to have everything you want, Nancy Wheeler."

A grin broke across her face as she watched Robin's head bob up and down, like that was an absolute. Like it was obvious and unquestionable. Something joyous bubbled in her gut.

Finally – finally – she used her grip on Robin's clothes to pull her down to swallow up the last little bit of distance between them.

When their lips met, Nancy's mind exploded with light and colour and vibrance. Robin's mouth was warm and soft and inviting and so Nancy pushed further up into the kiss, all but begging for more.

Robin seemed happy to oblige, and while keeping one hand curling into Nancy's hair, she wound one arm around her waist, hoisting her up a little more. Nancy thanked her with a whimper that escaped without her permission.

A whimper that descended into an all-out moan when Robin's tongue grazed her top lip. Nancy couldn't be more enthusiastic in opening her mouth to deepen the kiss. The hands that were holding tightly at Robin's chest loosened and found their way up to her shoulders instead, wrapping around them to pull her closer.

Nancy was very aware that she'd need to come up for air soon but by-and-by thought that this would not be a bad way to go: suffocating with Robin's lips on hers, arms strong and desperate and needy wrapped around her.

All good things, though…

When they parted, they were both breathless and hazy, foreheads pressed together still. Neither wanted to separate from the other completely. So they panted and grinned and blinked away the daze, sharing their space, their air and their stability.

Robin managed to speak first, of course, "I'm so glad that that's what you wanted."

Nancy giggled airily, her brain was still a little mushy, "'want'," she corrected, "present continuous."

"Ugh, you nerd," Robin chastised before swooping down to catch their lips into another blistering kiss.

Nancy tightened her arms, still slung around the taller girl's neck to pull them closer but moved to part them again. They remained in each other's space, breathing the same air.

"We should go back out before your parents notice we've been gone," Nancy reasoned.

Robin whined in a way that Nancy shouldn't have found attractive, "but they'll be all annoying until we tell them what's going on."

It made her smile. The fear from earlier forgotten, "let's just go tell them then, your mom already knows about my embarrassingly huge crush on you."

"She does?" Robin seemed genuinely shocked. And then her features softened into something teasing, "I can't believe you have a crush on me, that's so weird."

"I know, right?" She laughed, placing one last chaste peck on Robin's lips and pulling away.

"Wait, just so I'm clear: you have a crush on me?" Robin's voice was a little shrill.

"That's probably understating things," Nancy said while she fixed her hair in the mirror and then spun to face Robin again, "I'm pretty sure you're my favourite person on the planet."

The little "oh," sound that Robin choked out was unbearably cute, and so Nancy felt the need to hold her face in her hands.

"Are you okay?" She asked delicately.

Robin's eyes were watery, moments from spilling over, but she kept her eyes on Nancy's. Gentle and loving and awed.

"Hell yeah, Hot Wheels," she replied softly and Nancy's answering giggle was a bit watery too.

[kanene-yaaay]

Okay so! I feel like sharing one of tickle dreams because GOSH I really want to remember that one ♡

Okay, so, everything starts just like it is in every dream ever, with me inside a Situation and my current situation is that I am walking around my workplace just hanging around and doing absolutely nothing and visiting places.

Doing that I eventually arrived in the meeting room that was like the MOST GIGANTIC room I've ever seen and that is filled, from everywhere with laughter.

Because there was a tickle competition going on.

It isn't even a tickle fight, it's literally a competition that started with too beans comparing who was the most ticklish and then everything escalated so friends and accquitances began ganging up on beans to playfully attack them and see who would be the most sensitive.

At the point that I arrived everything was already much more organized and there was like this LONG line of people just sitting and waiting for their time to be tickled and participate

The thing went a little bit like this: The first one in the line got attacked by the two other persons sitting behind them, and after a few minutes the first one would walk away and the second became the first and everything repeated itself.

While me, right now, writing this, is just about to scream with that cute mental image, Dream Me was like "Oh yeah yeah ofc A Tickle Competition Ofc That sounds fun :D" and just got into the end of the line and waited for my turn as well

😎😎

So yeah, the room is full of laughter, giggles, "Wait wait, I can't belive, you're ticklish HERE?" And I am waiting and everything and suddenly those two accquitances of mine appear and they are so :D surprised because "Noooo wayyyy, is that Kanene? Doing something that is not job-related and loosing up for a bit?" Because I was much more closed during work so I just laugh with a "yeah yeah well we gotta live too right"

And I NEED. I. NEED. you to understand that while all the three of us are just sitting there, chating, making small talk, the dear bean laying right by my side is DYING. They're laughing and giggling and squirming and being DESTROYED by their friends and we're just there like "This week has been quite slow, don't you think?"

Rip rip they will be missed

Anyway :D My Turn :DDD I take of my jacket because it's hot of course and not because I wanted less layers of protection pffffff ofc and when I turn around

I see no one to tickle me. Because I was the last of the line.

"Oh well, it was worth a shot"

Like BRUH I wasn't even SAD like the whole thing had been so crazy and fun that it was very nice to just be there to see all the happiness. So I just turned and began folding my jacket so I could keep visiting the rest of the place and then I listen to the commenter of the competition (??? Not sure if that is even a word but ya jnow that person that talks in the mic making commentaries about games and stuff) says that since I was the last one it would only be fair if the very first person that started everything came here and finished it.

And I actually pause because okay, that is a good point who the HECK started this craziness. And I am just 👀 looking around while pretending that I am just.... still.... folding my jacket because, again, SERIOUS BEAN but everyone is already walking away and no one appears so I just shrug and get ready to get up.

Oh the naivety....

Because then, out of NO ABSOLUTELY WHERE someone began tickling my neck and poking my back around EVERYWHERE and it was the fastest, lightest pokes and scribbles to ever exist, like, LIKE, IT WAS LITERALLY SO SOFT that I was not even full laughing, just giggling and like any other sane person under ATTACK falling on the floor and Dying.

(And yeah yeah everyone passing around got their comment of "Wait, is that how your giggles sound like?? Awwww, Kanene!" Which is something that sounds like it came right our of a tickle fanfic like Dream. Bruh. Come on.)

As I am THERE. DYING. For some reason the ???? Threathe part of the team began making a full singing performance in front of me like literally there was dancing and singing and everything (and, again, me DYING). And I am so ????? Confused??? Trying too survive the most unfair attack to ever exist and then it stops and the bean that was attacking me steps in front of me and I do realize why the treather was there.

He was their leader.

I don't think I will EVER be able to describe the true vibes of GREMLIN that this bean has but I am giving here a full description because I LOVED that design thank you so much brain for giving me it: he was with a pirate costume, his hair was green w black roots and widly curly (the one that clearly took a lot of gel to stay like that xD) with gigantic upwards curls and curls that went to absolutely everywhere. He was veeeery pale with rocked because that only made his purple-blackshi eyeshadow have a GREAT contrast w the skin and he smiled like an AGENT OF CHAOS

Before I could even complain because UNFAIR ATTACK or compliment him because waiting for your victim to lower their guards and then attacking them from behind is a very good tactic mah boi just started to make an entire monologur in character about how he is the BEST TICKLER to ever exist, which you can CLEARLY see by how quickly giggly you got and if you ever need to be tickled or to tickle someone again you should definitely call him to help and not his nemesis (and not a good tickler at all) Pacifica (yeah the one from Gravity Falls. I am-)

And yeah he maybe tickled me but I almost made HIM break his character by implying that I could totally take him in a tickle fight. Me and those noodle arms right here and he had to pretend to make a serious, considering face the whole time while saying that Of COURSE he would accept the DUEL

And then I woke up.

Jazz hands etc etc etc

[lovelyelbowleech]

HELLO!! HAIR ANON HERE!!! I’m SO SORRY this was delayed but I have been crazy busy. Mostly with good things (like graduating and getting my MA [🎉], and working out the details of starting my next MA program!!), but most recently with covid LOL. BUT THE LAST TWO CHAPTERS OF WAR GAMES HAVE BEEN KEEPING ME SANE. Or causing me to lose what’s left of my sanity (that last chapter especially). Honestly probably both at the same time 😂

Bc OOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH my GOD that last chapter. I feel VINDICATED. I feel FEVERED (and not just because of the covid lmaooo). I feel YRIEIFOWHFOWHDOWUDOWHDUD. I don’t even know how to describe how I’m feeling other than CHAOTIC and OVERWHELMINGLY POSITIVE. My brain is fuzzy but I needed you to know this was the most hyped up I’ve been about something fandom related in over a decade. I’m glad my gf wasn’t home bc I’m not sure I would want to explain the multiple screams I let out, or the multiple honest-to-god flails that happened.

IN HONOR OF THAT some of my favorite lines:

“Zuko’s eyes were bright, even in the dim light. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I just wanted to be normal. So I went with it.’” GOD. GOD. GOD. GOD. THE IMAGE THIS PAINTS. LIGHTING SOMETHING ON FIRE RN

“No, that wasn’t true. He had plenty in his head. Things like the fact that perhaps, just between him and himself, he could admit that maybe there was an attraction that he had been trying to convince himself was something else, like envy or admiration. He did maybe stare at Zuko’s muscles a little too much, and find the blushing and the way his hair was starting to flop very charming. Cute, even.” THIS…. INVENTED ROMANCE?? THE NOISE I MADE WHEN I READ THIS WAS SOMEWHERE BETWEEN A SQUEAL AND A WAIL

"’The Avatar is not a baby,’ Zuko said faintly, his eyes a little wide. ‘Not all babies are bald.’ He looked like maybe his brain had stopped working.” THIS MADE ME GIGGLE SO HARD SJDKSJDIWID ALSO THE WHOLE SCENE WHERE THEY WERE FIXING THE TENT!!! Toph, Katara, and Zuko had me in HYSTERICS, also I’m SO PROUD of Zuko’s angry stitching, good job, buddy

ALSO!!! Tu’s section was so sad and so good and so beautifully written??? I’m so worried about what’s going to happen to him and the freedom fighters. But as someone who loves your writing I’m also VERY EXCITED to see what happens with them. 😂 And omg YAY SUKI AND SHEN SURVIVING! And Shen *GETTING SOME*! I think I actually said, “YEAH, GET SOME” out loud when Shen rediscovered his dick. Good for him, man. He fucking deserves it (pun only half intended). Now I’m just desperately curious about what Azula is going to be up to in the next chapter, and which of the four groups we’re following are going to meet first 👀 I’M SO EXCITED TO FIND OUT AHHH

Thank you thank you thank you THANK YOU as always for sharing your amazing writing and story with us!! I am having the time of my life reading this and I am so grateful that I get to. I’m so excited and am waiting very patiently for the next chapter. I hope you’re feeling better, and thank you so much for sharing, again!!! 💖💖💖💖💖💖

Well done for graduation and getting your MA! Sorry about the covid though, that sucks. I hope you are feeling a bit better!

Glad you enjoyed the chapter 😂😬

"also I’m SO PROUD of Zuko’s angry stitching" > I have such a strong image of what those stitches looked like, and all the rage and frustration that went into them. I might have been projecting a bit 😂

Poor Tu is really going through it, his sections are very short at the moment, but I always pack a lot of suffering into them (like Katara's were before she met back up with Sokka, lol)

Shen's been though a lot, he deserves a treat. Good thing Suki is also there to keep ragging on him and making sure he doesn't get ahead of himself 😂

Thank you once again for the amazing comment! I am glad you are still reading and enjoying! And I hope you are on the mend from the plague! ❤️❤️❤️

[chromatic-lamina]

fic writer asks!! i’m really curious about these three:

🤲 what do YOU get out of writing?

🌈 is there a fic that you worked *really fucking hard on* that no one would ever know? maybe a scene/theme you struggled with?

☯️ how do you think engaging with each other through tumblr, twitter, comments, kudos, creates healthy fandom experiences? How do you deal with that if you're not a social person/experience social anxiety?

thank you!! ♥️

Hello there!

🤲 what do YOU get out of writing?

Keeps me sane. I think it's something I'm good at and something I enjoy doing, so I think I should do it if I feel driven to do it. Balance is important of course. Also, I can write, with some stuff, scenarios or character studies and relationships that I'd like to see.

🌈is there a fic that you worked *really fucking hard on* that no one would ever know? maybe a scene/theme you struggled with? Let me have a look. Not really, no. For me, anyway, fanfiction is easier than original fiction. I try to write well, but I'm more likely to possibly be happy with a scene with fewer drafts than I might in original fic. I want it to be, basically, not stressful, even when I'm writing dark stuff. As a matter of fact, fanfic can be an avoidance strategy for me, so I'm more likely to write it when I'm a little stressed, than it actually stressing me. I have deleted and re-uploaded some of my dark fics (and even non-dark), a few times because I felt I didn't have enough confidence to deal with any potential backlash, and I get insecure sometimes (that was probably in response to crickets. Haha).

There are probably a number of scenes in my fics that I worked hard

at and it's good if the seams aren't showing. I don't know that anything was a struggle. I find if you're really struggling with something it's good to go on to a later scene and come back to the scene giving you trouble later (if it's a multi-chap), or write an 'and-then' draft, where you just get a big pile of prosaic sketching, really, on your page. And that's hard, cos' it can be kinda tedious, but once you've got that, you can really dive in and have fun with character, scene, dialogue, etc. I'm not discounting anyone's writing struggles. I've been there. But probably fanfiction has struck me this way.

Like, there is no such thing as a filler chapter, dudes. If you're bored with the final result, probably your readers will be too, so sometimes you've got to knuckle down, isolate, pick apart, put back together, and proceed. And nine times out of ten, I end up loving those paragraphs/ sentences / chapters. I don't think I answered the question, but there you go!

☯️ how do you think engaging with each other through tumblr, twitter, comments, kudos, creates healthy fandom experiences? How do you deal with that if you're not a social person/experience social anxiety?

Interesting question. I can only speak for myself. I joined tumblr after maybe 3 years of writing fanfic, and I wasn't on twitter or discord. I belonged to a fanfiction subreddit, but I think the sub-reddit served to make writers more nervous of social media than not.

I was pleasantly surprised. tumblr and twitter helped me to see how much of fandom occurs away from AO3 or FFN, for one (most of it). And some story links I've posted haven't done badly in notes (which, let's face it, for fanfiction is when it goes into the teens), but people have also left comments on my work saying they saw my post on twt or tumblr, and even it my post didn't get me any notes, etc., it did get me some readers who left really nice comments, which was excellent, so it served its purpose.

People must curate their own experiences. I've banked a lot of self-worth on whether I get kudos or comments, and I'll still have dips, but the thing is, that for most people (not all), getting some traction is a bit of a long slog. Like, it was probably 6 months to a year before I really connected with anyone over my fics, and lots of good stuff came well after that.

But, although I do think it's important that community members support one another if the community is to be sustainable, individuals in that community need to know what they can or can't do. And there are different personalities, so different horses for different courses. Even stuff like these ask games can sometimes do a lot. Plus, I think lots of folks in fandom have a very intense attention span of a fly. So I'd also advise not to get too attached. People come and go.

Also, I don't think it hurts to research (like, I didn't!) on the fan fiction platform before uploading. If a writer's fic is OCxOC take a look and see how the OC fics go in the fandom, and tether expectations to that. Even if someone as a reader reads outside of the box, once they become a writer, they might want to realise that if they're writing what they like to read, it's no less valuable, but it might not be as popular as the more common tropes etc.

And really, if , say, you're flooded with antis or negativity, etc., on tumblr, twitter, etc., use the block/mute button. Delete where you can, and interact with folks that you vibe with and cruise along. If the social anxiety is too high, just stick to posting fic and disengage.

Thanks for the ask!

I've answered ✨ 💫 📡 , 🤲 , 🌈 , ☯️ and I'm about to answer: 🎈💥🎀 (way-hey! They look so bright in my inbox!!). The ask is here if anyone else wants to ask!

[spynorth]

🍓 me im needy

🍓 = (slow) positivity. accepting but .. s l o w.

here i am, @offenseonly - a month later and the biggest procrastinator ever. I hope this confession of adoration is worth the wait. To be honest, the moment I saw you send this in I started thinking about what I wanted to say to you and how I wanted to phrase it. Heck, that makes it seem like I'm gonna tell you to get lost! lmaooo and I swear I'm not. Our friendship is one of those funny ones where it was like one day you were on my dash as this little mutual I knew nothing about (same on your end, i'm sure) but we were vibing and we had mutuals in common whose taste i trusted.. so it amped up to that step of like commenting on posts and what not.. and one of the first things I noticed was your sense of humor. You are so damn funny, ray. It's just this quick, quiet bolt of wit that comes out of the corner when you least expect it because usually you're just minding your own business and doing your own thing and then .. wham! you're cracking me up. Second, was your taste in moves. I've written down more movies thanks to your mentions of them than I ever have from anyone and I've watched a few fair of them now too. I count you as one of the few truly sane individuals left here on tumblr and it's become one of those things where when it comes to any sort of tumblr news .. it's just immediately like don't care, if ray says it ... it's true .. because you don't bullshit and you don't change your opinions/truth for other people.

and your writing ... god, you're writing. I've told you quite a bit in discord how I've been absolutely sucked in with this lawrusso thing you got going on. I am INVESTED. In fact, I just saw somethign about criminal minds cross my dash the other day and i'm !!! but whether it's johnny, or greg or someone on your multi .. the passion and talent you have for bringing characters to life never wavers. I try to read writing from my mutuals whenever I see it on the dash (I follow for the writing, of course I'm gonna try and read it) .. but there isn't a try to with you .. there's only a 'MUST READ IMMEDIATELY BEFORE I SCROLL ANY FURTHER!' ...also, i don't say this about a lot of people (sorry, people) but its really easy to read everything you post (even threads) because you have partners whose writing styles really suit yours. The flow is seamless. It's impossible to enjoy keeping up with a thread when your mutual's partner just doesnt do it for you but like .. idk man. you just find really good writing partners, especially in how yall complement one another. but your descriptions, the rawness of emotion that you write with ... I live for it. I love it. It's one of my favorite things. I just adore the hell out of you ray and I hope you never think otherwise or forget it. Thanks to you, shootfighter lives in my head rent free (hand down, best 90s movie. best karate movie even. karate kid who??).

[silvery-orchid]

YAN! GENSHIN MEN READING YOUR DIARY PT.2 (includes: alhaitham, ayato and kaeya.)

ayato.

when you were little, ayato was the one that actually encouraged you to start a diary. he said his mom would write things inside hers and that sometimes his dad would lovingly read it out loud to her. he also told you that it would be the perfect thing for your handwriting to get better. but who knew that almost 20 years later ayato would be doing the same thing his father did only to you? granted, you think that his dad did it out of pure love, with his mother's consent but ayato never got either out of you yet he would sit in the bed next to you and flip those pages with eyes that made you scared sometimes. it was disturbing; the way he clung to every single word; the way his mouth would poetically read even your confessions of hate in the same way he did your descriptions of nature. he had the shuumatsuban while you had nothing; so ayato wasn't afraid to let you outside within special areas.

'oh, you noticed an onikabuto on our walk? it says here it was on the left tree... i haven't noticed that dear. what a sharp eye you have.'

and when he makes comments like that you want to hit your thighs repeatedly and tell him to stop. that it is enough. he has tortured you enough and nothing special hides in your diary. nothing you wouldn't say to his face. he reads it every night out loud to you, what would even be the point of trying to hide something?

what he really means is: 'you may have a sharp eye but it means nothing. you notice these insignificant things meanwhile i have my own eyes on you. my servant's even. and you will never escape.'

alhaitham.

alhaitham feels absolutely no guilt when he reads your diary. scholars pursue knowledge of their favourite subject and there is absolutely nothing that alhaitham loves more than you. in fact, him reading your diary is something he likes to consider as a proof of his love even if you call it an 'invasion of privacy'. do you ever consider how having someone wish to know you is essential? and since only he knows where this abandoned research facility lies - he is the only one that can offer you such a thing. you should be grateful and he believes that you will grow into it over time. you've rebelled a lot certainly; you've tried to keep your diary entries short and constantly wrote 'i hate him. i hate you. i wish you would go to hell for locking me up in here.' but when things became futile you used the diary as a way of staying as sane as possible. alhaitham sometimes feels guilty; no one is allowed to suspect his actions and your disappearance so he doesn't visit you as often as he would like. so, reading your diary is a way of him saying (in his own twisted head) 'sorry i've been gone for this long'. imagine his surprise when he flips to the next page while you sit on an uncomfortable chair with a proud smile on your face.

'what is this supposed to be?' you cross your arms and your smile becomes brighter.

'i've figured if you were going to read my diary i should make up my own language that you cannot understand! how does it feel now, you bastard?'

alhaitham only hums and puts your diary down, his voice doesn't change at all when he speaks to you.

'did your stay here make you forget that i've had to learn 20 languages to graduate?'

you definitely don't like where this is going, and your smile completely breaks as he approaches you and takes your chin in his hand. you wish he would flare up at being called a bastard. he is far too calm.

'are you even aware of all the language properties? the kiki and bouba effect? historical linguistics perhaps?'

you don't want to answer him. 'i know what your 'invented' language means. you must have used that pretty head of yours quite a lot for it. you wrote down 'i will never love you' but i assure you - in time - you will.'

and just like that; alhaitham wins again.

kaeya.

kaeya believes that if he managed to charm you once - he will manage to do so again. and again if you prompt his hand to become cruel. he would like to say he felt guilty for kidnapping you after charming you and realising just how easily someone else could sway you away from him. he would like to; and he likes to pretend to your crying face that he does - but he only wonders how to charm you once again until you forget his little 'radical' proclamation of love. and for those means your diary becomes essential to him. you truly believe that kaeya left a few empty notebooks around on purpose; and you truly believe you've kept them hidden in places he never checks. he thinks its cute. because you believe those things, your diary is without restraints. it tells him everything: the state of your mind and how it changes, what you thought about his punishments, what food you'd want and which flowers you've had dreams about.

but, most importantly; your diary tells nothing but the truth. and that is exactly what kaeya needs.

slowly but surely, he can see the way his charm is starting to grow on you once more. like when he made you slip up and say your favorite flower only to bring it to you the next day and how happy it made you! or your true thoughts about the dinner he worked hard to make. it has everything.

but his absolute favorite is the way you cannot lie to your diary about your own pleasure. sure, you cry and tell him 'no' a lot, and you try to avoid his advances but your diary? the way you gradually start to write down your wet dreams of him more and more almost makes his face heat up. the truth written down about how his hands and kisses and thrusts make you feel oh so good and how eventually you come to miss them when he isn't around for a few days.

your diary makes it clear just how much his charm still works on you.

a/n: that moment when you think about these often but forget to write and post them here.

[thebadboyfanclub]

It’s Alright Darling (Sherlock x Reader)

Ok... Was this requested? No. Am I writing it cause anything Henry Cavill related makes me feel happy? Yes. Enjoy!

Being Sherlock Holmes assistant was something a lot of people would kill for and that makes it even better if you think about the irony of it. However, since Sherlock wasn’t a normal person to mostly everything he did, he had decided to hire a woman as his assistant, Mycroft called him mad and unhinged almost every time he brought up her name. (Y/n) was one of the most intelligent people he had ever been around, combining that with a charming personality was the recipe to success.

“Well, well, well I see my brother is full of surprises”

“Hello there Mycroft is so nice to see you again as well”

She spoke in an clearly ironic tone as she took of her gloves, she was never a fan of hats other than the occasions she knew she would be under the sun for hours. As she walked in the living room area for what seemed like their childhood home, Sherlock had requested for (y/n) to arrive a day later than the brothers, knowing that her and his older brother were like oil and water he chose to “prepare the grounds” first.

“Where is the young little Holmes?”

“Inside, talking with miss Harrison”

“Alright... who is miss Harrison?”

“Miss Harrison is an excellent teacher and a friend of mine, come to think of it maybe you should go in and ask her to take you as well... you might be a bit old but I’m sure she can make an exception”

Mycroft found (y/n) intolerant, she was dismissive, unladylike, mouthy and a feminist, he still does not understand what asset do she brought to his younger brother. She only smiled while sitting at one of the chairs

“I will let you know I was an excellent student in all my academic achievements, although I suppose you were one as well that doesn’t really prove someone’s intelligence or manners, right mister Holmes?”

Sherlock let a laugh be heard at (y/n)’s quick response, even though he would never take sides and sometimes wanted them to get along, he had accepted that it would never happen and simply enjoyed the situation.

“Amused brother? Of course you are as mad as her since you didn’t only hire her, you kept her around and brought her in my home”

“Now Now mister Holmes, what type of gentleman would you be if you threaten to through out not just a lady but your younger brothers guest, unfortunately you are just further proving my point about our little quarrel”

Before he had the chance to respond a young girl walked in, wearing a white undergarment dress and looking disheveled. The girl who (y/n) could only assume was the infamous Enola didn’t even notice her being in this room.

“No, don’t do this to me. Let me remain happy, I am happy here”

“You are a young woman now Enola, you need an education”

“Test me, on anything you think I need to know in order to be sufficient for this world”

“If she taught you so well, you wouldn’t be standing in your undergarment in front of me”

Silence fell in the room for a quick second. His disgusting answer to his own sister made (Y/n) get on her feet, Enola quickly let her gaze fall on the young woman that was now in her house.

“Why is that a problem Mister Holmes? Undergarments are scandalous for the men when a woman they are interested in wears them, she is your underaged sister”

“This is a family matter, it does not- I repeat- does not concern you”

“Of course it does not concern me, but it does concern me when a young girl is being held accountable for walking in her home, to her brothers, completely covered and still being shamed for it”

Enola understood by that quick argument the lady was not here because of Mycroft, so it only meant she was Sherlocks company, she is not his wife since if not invited he would have at least informed their mother, so perhaps a girlfriend?

“Enola you have no hopes of making a husband out of your state, neither do you... miss (y/l/n)”

“I don’t want a husband”

Enola claimed, raising her voice at the ridiculous claim her brother made. Even though they haven’t been properly introduced they had developed a mutually liking for each other, at a brief look they seemed to have the same outlook on life.

“And that is another thing you need to have educated out of you”

At that Enola turned to look at her other brother, Sherlock, who had remained radio silent throughout this entire conversation. Enola kneeled in front of him, as Sherlock looked at her and then broke eye contact to look down at the book he was holding.

“Sherlock, Don’t let him do this to me”

“You are his ward”

“Make me yours. Guide me. Teach me. For him I am nuisance. For you-”

“Enola. I’m sorry, but it’s out of my hands”

“Just like his cruelty to our mother was out of your hands”

Cruelty to their mother? No, Sherlock would have never allowed his mother to go through anything, he is a man of honor... isn’t he? (Y/n) felt her stomach tighten as she saw this tragic scene unravel, she hoped Sherlock would have accepted and took her in.

“She is not dangerous. She is remarkable and always has been. And if you still can’t see that then shame on you both”

“So remarkable she left you in my care”

Mycroft shot back. (Y/n) could almost feel the pain the young girl felt, you could see it in her eyes how that was an arrow straight in her heart. (Y/n) decided to step up and try to help, she approached the young girl with a kind smile and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here to calm down. Seems like your brothers don’t share the same love and admiration you do for the woman that made them who they are”

“I am a self made successful man”

“but you wouldn’t be no man if the woman you frown upon had not broken her hips and went through hours of painful labor. Take that as some food for thought before you school me on my manners”

Sherlock looked at her in awe, as she stood proudly next to his sister and became the shield he should have been. Standing up for a girl you haven’t even spoken to or knew before this.

“Let’s go young Enola, seems like a woman’s presence is wanted here only when she does as she is told”

-

“Come in”

“Can I open this door and be promised that I will remain safe or are you holding a dagger and you are ready to take me out of this world?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, dagger you in your own household? I would probably wait to poison you a few days after we leave and write the paperwork of you firing me”

He smiled at her plan as he closed the door in her room. It was already nightfall and the only light here were a few candles, he had let her take a breather after the unfortunate event that had occurred previously. Even though he wasn’t the one that she went toe to toe with, his silence was as obnoxious to her as his brothers loud ignorance towards the female gender.

“You are upset”

“Of course not, why would I be? It’s not like you let that man embarrass his own sibling and talk down to his mother without her being in the room”

She had remained sited in the chair next to the table, a book open that seemed like she was writing on rather than reading it. He was aware she was holding a journal, he didn’t blame her for it, having a job like she did she was in desperate need of something to keep her sane.

“This is a very wary subject”

“I am aware of it, I just can’t seem to understand why not comfort her, try to change your brothers opinion, anything that will show you care for her, you do care for her, right Sherlock?”

“She is my baby sister (y/n), that’s a given”

She closed her book. She ran her hand through her  through her hair and got up from her sit, her hands going in front of her torso at a defensive demeanor, even when Sherlock should be cold or show his higher position to her, he couldn’t help but seek some type of truce with her, how could he not? She looked so beautiful even when she mad at him, the eyes he was so caught up in looked at him with fury, her delicate feature went harsh and she was dressed more... lightly now.

“I spoke with her earlier, she was in the garden”

“I know, I saw.”

“She asked me about you, asked me if you were my lady”

Her eyes went wide for a split second before regaining her composer and turned her back to him. She approached the window before she spoke.

“If you think of how she became familiar with me, she was probably certain I wasn’t even friends with your holier than God brother”

“You mustn't be angry at me”

“And why is that?”

“Because other than my sister and mother, I care for you and for your opinion about me”

She remained silent. Not only because she was caught off guard by his comment, she also didn’t know what he was talking about. Sherlock stepped closer to her, his steps making her heart flutter and her palms sweaty. He stopped when he was right behind her, he wanted to hug her, caress her, kiss her, still he was uncertain of how she would react.

“I still remember the night you got kidnapped”

Someone that Sherlock had helped uncover had escaped prison and kidnapped her. Luckily, she was retrieved safely yet again she was still shaken up by the scary experience, when Sherlock found her awake next to the fireplace she was so vulnerable and grateful to be alive she launched at him and kissed him passionately.

He shared his bed with her, in the middle of the night though she had gotten up and left, when morning came she acted like nothing had happened, barely even looked at him in the eyes for a week.

“Please Sherlock don’t pick at my brain”

“Why did you leave that night? Did you regret it that much”

“That night... was the most blissful I have ever been.... However you are still my boss Sherlock”

“That’s all I am to you? Your boss?”

(Y/n) turned to look at him, tears welling up in her eyes. Those eyes would be the death of him, it was with no doubt the window to her soul, that pure gentle soul of hers.

“What am I to you then Sherlock? This wasn’t just about me”

“You are.... what I never knew I needed”

His hands went up to her forearms instinctively, a soft caress that made her think his hands were made out of the finest silk, she felt goosebumps as he touched her. Her lips parted slightly as she took in a heavy breath, her eyes searching for a hint of a lie in his words.

“Sherlock”

“Shhhhh, It’s alright darling. You don’t have to say anything”

At that he slowly leaned in, his lips on top of hers at a shy and gentle kiss. Her hand went to his neck, bringing her torso to touch his as the kiss deepened, her entire body felt a rush go through it as they should the passion they held for each other with this kiss. As she pulled back her fingertips traveled to his face, taking in his attractive features

“I had almost forgotten how good of a kisser you are”

“Oh love, you will never forget it ever again”

[babymetaldoll]

Quarantine with Matthew Gray Gubler (MGG / Reader)

(Not my gif, thank you to whoever made it! )

Requested: Yes :)

Vivir en cuarentena con Matthew, y él hace en vivos por Instagram con y/n respondiendo preguntas de fans

Category: Fluff

Pairing: Matthew Gray Gubler / Reader

Summary: Matthew loves making people happy, and in quarantine, he finds the best way to keep in touch with his fans and do what he loves the most: spend time with (Y/N) 💜

Warnings: Nope

Word count: 2,2K

Masterlist

A/N: I am so sorry this request took me forever!!  Hello guys!!  thank you for all your comments, and love 💖 You are awesome!! hope you have a great week!!

.

Living in quarantine isn't as bad as many people think. It all depends on who you are spending your time locked in with. (Y/N) knew it pretty well, 'cos she had been locked with her husband, Matthew Gray Gubler, in their shared house for the last month.

And even when most people were sick and tired of being home, (Y/N)and Matthew managed to keep themselves busy and mentally sane. In fact, you could feel more stressed considering there was a pandemic and no one could see their loved ones and friends. But being with Matthew made it all so much bearable.

Considering Gubler's job kept him busy most of the time during a normal year and that he didn't have many chances to be home the way he was now, he enjoyed it.

Sleeping in was heaven. And the fact he could stay in, wearing pajama and kimonos, just enjoying his wife's company, was what he needed.

He didn't realize he needed to take a break after years of hard work until he was forced to do it. And god, it felt good.

(Y/N) would keep herself busy writing and reading while Matthew painted and draw by her side.

Their daily activities included: trying new recipes at least three times each week. Gubler would always come with some random exotic dish he always wanted to recreate. And six of eight times, he nailed it.

They would also spend a day in their pajamas doing nothing. Usually, it was Sundays. That was their official cuddles day. Just movies, ice cream, and cuddles.

Matthew also started teaching (Y/N) some magic tricks. She had insisted a few times, but he was very reluctant to do it at first.

- "A magician never shares his tricks, Bunny"- he argued for days.

- "Ok, but what if I am a magician too? Then it would be ok?"

(Y/N) was sitting on his lap, playing with some curls of his hair between her fingers. They were in their backyard, having a picnic. They had set a blanket and had some cookies (Y/N) had baked, along with two tall ice coffee Matthew had prepared, with an obscene amount of whipped cream.

- "And how are you planning to be a magician if you don't know any trick?"- he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

- "Just because you haven't taught me any trick doesn't mean I don't know any!"- she answered, pretending to be insulted.

- "My wife can do magic, and she never told me?"

- "There are a lot of things about your wife you still don't know"- (Y/N) teased and smiled at him.

- "Bunny, we are locked in this house until further notice. I think I have enough time to find out all those things I haven't seen in the last years."

(Y/N) had finally convinced him when she showed him a simple card trick her father had taught her when she was a kid. Gubler got so excited he even presided a ceremony to name her an official magician and invited their friends to be part of it via zoom. Everybody enjoyed their magic tricks and shared a good hour of fun and laughter with them, just like they would do live.

It felt good to be with their loved ones, even if it was just online.

That gave Matthew an idea.

- "Hey, Bunny!"- he walked into the kitchen holding his phone, scrolling down his Instagram feed.

- "What is it, honey?"- (Y/N) asked him as she kept chopping vegetables for dinner.

- "I was thinking maybe I should start doing Instagram live streamings with the fans. Maybe do some magic tricks, tell jokes. I don't know."- (Y/N) raised his eyes from the food and smiled.

- "Sounds awesome! when do you wanna start?"

- "Now?"- he answered a little hesitant

- "And what do you have in mind?"

- "Maybe answering questions and asking them if hanging out via Instagram is something they'd like to do."

(Y/N) chuckled and walked to her husband, pinching his cheeks, making him giggle.

- "You are so adorable, Gub. Like anyone wouldn't love to hang out with you."- he blushed and shook his head.

- "Ok, I'm gonna do it here anyway."

- "While I'm cooking?"- (Y/N) looked confused

- "Yes, I want you near so you can stop me when I start rambling"- (Y/N) laughed and kissed her husband's lips sweetly.

- "I can't stop your rambling, Gubler. But I can mute the video"- she teased, and he pecked her lips, chuckling.

- "Just stop me when I start saying anything embarrassing."

- "Deal."

No one could say Matthew Gray Gubler didn't care about his fans. He was committed to being always nice to anyone who would ask for a picture or an autograph. Why? Because nothing made him happier than making people happy. And if his job gave people joy, he honestly felt his life had a purpose.

That's why he enjoyed his improvised IG stream so much. He just sat on a couch nearby the kitchen and started talking with fans, answering questions.

- "Where am I spending my quarantine? Here is my hunted treehouse. I don't think I had ever been home this much, and it's been awesome."- Gubler stood up and started walking around the room.

- "Who am I spending it with? my gorgeous wife, of course,"- he said and pointed the phone at (Y/N), who was still cooking dinner. She simply waved and smiled

- "She is making sure I eat proper food now... Bunny, people are asking what you are cooking."

- "Pad thai"- she answered with a huge grin- "Gubler's request for tonight's dinner."

- "Maybe we could make a cooking class one day,"- Matthew suggested, and the screen started filling with "YES!!" immediately- "I could teach people how to burn every pan in the house, and you can cook."

(Y/N) nodded, laughing.

- "You can teach everybody how to make the best hotcakes."- (Y/N) answered and walked away from the phone.

It wasn't that she didn't like being part of her husband's activities, but she figured she wasn't really that important. Fans were there to see him, not her.

But Matthew followed her.

- "Yeah! I'll make my famous chocolate chip hotcakes, and you will have to top them!"- (Y/N) laughed and looked at her husband, raising an eyebrow.

- "Battle of the hotcakes?"

- "Yes!"

- "Set a time and a place, and I'll be there"- (Y/N) put her hands in her waist and raised an eyebrow, looking as serious as she could fake it.

- "Tomorrow, noon, here in our kitchen, because we can't leave the house,"- Gubler answered and mimicked his wife's attitude, still streaming everything.

- "Bring it, Gub."

And just like that, another livestream was scheduled.

The next day, at noon, Matthew streamed the funniest hotcake competition there had ever been seen by humankind. At least that's what he described.

- "Let's say it's a tie"- Gubbler decided and finished the last piece of hotcake in his dish- "I'll leave a poll in my stories so you can decide what you wanna see in tomorrow's live."

- "Really?"- (Y/N) asked, surprised- "Which are the options?"

- "Magic tricks or... I don't know. I didn't think this through"- he answered, making his wife giggle.

- "Maybe you could make a Rumple reading"- and Gubler's eye brightened at the idea

- "With my Rumple costume?"

- "I don't see why not"- Gubler looked at the screen and grinned like a kid.

- "Ok, you'll decide, magic classes or Rumple reading."

It was a draw. That's why Gubler did a Rumple reading the next day and decided to prepare a magic class with his wife for later that week.

His followers were having a blast with each one of their streams. Matthew would always try to take a step back and let his wife shine in front of everybody. He thought she was so funny the world needed to see more of her.

And (Y/N) always tried to be the best sidekick for her husband. Helping him make his streamings as fun as possible.

For the Rumple reading, Matthew sat in an armchair by the fireplace, dressed like Rumple, and read the whole book, impersonating voices and everything. Then, (Y/N) read the questions from the fans, and Matthew answered everything.

Gubler dressed like a classic magician for their magic streaming, and his wife was his assistant, helping him with each trick.

And by the end of the week, the people picked Q&A streaming with the two of them. It was the Friday "Chilling with the Gubs special."

- "Your girl is about to steal the whole show"- Shemar called Matthew that week and made him laugh- "She's the best part of the whole stream."

- "Don't flirt with my wife!"- he answered and chuckled.

- "I'm just saying she has a lot of potentials. She should try to do some stand-up comedy."

Gubler loved that comment, though. He knew his wife was awesome, and he wanted the world to know. As simple as that.

- "Ok, Bunny, ready to answer some questions?"- Gubler set the phone in front of them as they sat in their backyard. One more time, they had set a blanket in their favorite spot. And they had cookies and coffee.

- "Hit it!"

It was fun to do those things together. (Y/N) had never been one to be in the spotlight, but she loved being with Matthew. And if he was happy, so was she.

And it took only a second to see how happy Matthew was. He beamed each time he looked at his wife by his side.

- "Ok, this is a good one. What did we have for breakfast today?"- (Y/N) read and chuckled.

- "Good question. Waffles. (Y/N) made waffles, and I ate five, with ice cream. I'm gonna get so fat in quarantine"- the actor answered and felt his wife's hand in his hair.

- "What's your next project"- (Y/N) read- "Oh! that's a good one!"

- "But I won't say anything about it,"- Gubler answered and chuckled- "You'll have to stay tuned."

- "But I can assure you, it's amazing,"- (Y/N) added smiling- "How did you two meet"- the couple looked at each other and giggled.

- "At a party in my best friend's house"- she answered- "She was dating one of Matthew's friends, and they had a huge celebration when they moved in together."

- "And when I saw her, I knew I had to talk to her, but her friends didn't leave her alone."

- "Why didn't you just walked over and talked to me anyway?"- (Y/N) asked and crossed her arms on her chest

- "Because they were intimidating! and I am a shy guy!"- he explained- "I had to wait until you walked away to get yourself a drink to talk to you finally!"

- "You literally appeared by my side as soon as I walked away from them"- (Y/N) laughed, remembering the moment- "It was so funny!"

- "Hey! it might have been my only chance! I needed to take it!"- Matthew held her hand and played with her fingers, thinking he was glad non of that was in the camera angle.

- "And it worked"- (Y/N) answered and smiled at her husband, thinking as soon as that livestream was over, she was going to have a serious make out session with him

- "I'm glad it did. Quarantine would suck without you."

Gubler answered and smiled, thinking as soon as that stream was over, he was going to jump on her and kiss every inch of her body, just because she looked so beautiful that day.

- "Are you guys planning on having kids?"- (Y/N) read and turned all kinds of pink. There was a silence between the couple as they just looked at each other and shrugged.

- "We'd make cute babies"- Matthew answered- "And we could clearly keep them entertained."

(Y/N) laughed and shook her head.

- "We are not streaming that!!"

- "What?"

- "The baby-making part!"- she joked, and Gubler blushed, laughing and falling back on the blanket.

- "That idea never crossed my mind!"

- "I had to say it! Just in case"- (Y/N) argued and chuckled.

She had thought about having babies in the last few months. But getting pregnant during a pandemic didn't sound like a good idea.

Or was it?

- "Ok, everybody. We are signing out for today"- Gubler announced and waved at the camera- "Take care, stay in your house this weekend, and we'll come back maybe next week."

- "Maybe people can suggest what they'd like to see"- (Y/N) said and looked at Gubler, smiling back at her.

- "I'll leave the option in one of my stories so that you can leave your suggestions. See you!!"

The livestream was over. Gubler left his phone aside and looked at his wife. She was sipping her coffee and fidgeting with her fingers on the fabric of her jeans.

- "We would make cute babies, though,"- Matthew whispered and watched her beam at those words. That was all he needed to know.

- "You would spoil them so much"- (Y/N) replied, giggling.

- "Only because they will be just like you, and I love to spoil you so much"- he opened his arms, and (Y/N) leaned in, resting her body against his.

- "So... do you wanna have a baby Gub?"- she whispered against his chest- her voice was muffled, but he heard her clearly.

- "I think I do. You?"- Gubler answered, feeling his heart beating faster.

- "Me too."

(Y/N) muttered and giggled. Matthew looked at her and leaned in a little closer, kissing her lips sweetly.

It was a massive step for them, and they were very excited to do it.

- "Do you wanna start now?"- Matthew suggested, and (Y/N) blushed immediately- "I mean... I was going to suggest sex before, but now..."

- "The sooner, the better, Gubler,"- (Y/N) replied and bit her lips- "After all, we are gonna have to do a lot of practice before we succeed."

[myimaginesandrp]

Stuck with You (Ksj)

Summary: When the run-down elevator in your building breaks down, you find yourself trapped inside with your cute neighbor Seokjin.

Notes: 2k, One Shot, Neighbor!Ksj, N2L, Ksj x reader, fluff, mild angst

Warnings: Mild panic attack caused by claustrophobia [Any further warnings will be added upon request]

A/N: Please be nice this is the first time I write for BTS 🙈 {Also this was 0% Edited. oops}

 Cold sweat makes its way down your back as the pads of your fingers nervously press down on the emergency button of the elevator for just about  the fourth time in the last fifteen minutes. They’re starting to hurt. Maybe not as much as your feet in the stupid shoes you decided to wear today, but they were definitely not this red when you first entered the building. Nevermind that, it’s starting to get ridiculously hot and you’re not entirely sure if the sweat is really from how stuffy it's getting in here, or if your fried nerves are starting to get a hold of you. 

You’d told the owner several times that the elevator needed to be fixed, and now your worst nightmare had come true before your very eyes. Not even two seconds in and the sound of screeching and whining metal rang in your ears before the elevator stopped completely, only to leave  you in darkness and a pounding heart that was very close to giving out on you. You’d never admit that you were claustrophobic, but with each second that passed, the air entering your lungs seemed to have more and more difficulty finding its way out. 

Had you been by yourself, you’d have completely lost it by now, but as luck would have it, the quiet - and much more controlled -  breaths beside you told you that you very much weren’t. In your panic you’d nearly forgotten you weren’t alone in the metal death trap you found yourself in. Thinking back to it now, you’d managed to avoid everyone in the lobby until his hand broke through the gap of the elevator just as the doors were closing.

Seokjin, your neighbor who moved in next door almost a year ago, stood about a foot away from you, nowhere near as worried about your current predicament as he probably should've been. In fact if it weren’t for the thin sheen of sweat gracing his forehead, you’d think he was just as content here as if he were at home. 

In the short amount of time you’d known him it was more than clear he was a sweet and kind person, not to mention his ridiculous sense of humor and his even more ridiculous good looks. It was unfair really, that someone who looked so perfect was just as beautiful on the inside. His presence now had kept you somewhat sane, for the most part. His kind smile now met your panicked eyes, offering you silent comfort in hopes that it would stop you from banging on the steel again. He approached you slowly, stepping over the grocery bags he’d been carrying when he ran inside. In your pacing back and forth you’re sure that you’d smushed an orange or two into the floor, but you could worry about that later.

 His hand finds your shoulder and your breathing suddenly takes a turn for the worse. Not that you didn’t want his touch of course, you’d been crushing on him since the moment you met him walking up the steps of your apartment one cloudy afternoon. You’d craved to be this close to him for a while but given the current circumstances, this was far from any daydream you’d ever ran through your head before.  

“Are you sure you don’t want to eat something?” He began, pulling your attention away from your thoughts. “I have those chocolate bars you like.” He nods towards his bags and you arch your brow at him in confusion. All the blood drains from his face at the confession and he tries his best to backtrack without much success. “I mean- I just. I’ve seen you always grab some at the vending machine near the laundry room. Not that I always watch you. No wait-” A twitch of your lips gets him even more worked up. You watch in awe as his ears turn bright red and his words come out of him louder and faster. If you weren't filled with utter terror at the moment, you'd find it the most adorable thing in the world to see him this flustered. “-I mean  N-Not that I was staring! Why would I be staring at you! Sometimes I just happen to pass by when you’re there. Anyone could be there, it’s a public place you know? I just mean that-  I…” You shake your head at him to stop his rambling.

“It’s fine Jin” you muster with as much calmness as you could. He was a good distraction, but you were still stuck in a metal cage, dangling who knows how far above the ground. You were definitely gonna start taking the stairs from now on, this was getting to be too much for you. “I just lost my appetite really… I’ll just order something. If we ever get out- ” your voice breaks and before he can stop himself, his arms envelop you in a soft embrace. 

“Hey no don’t cry. It’s gonna be okay ______” he coos as you try and fail to control the stream of tears that leave you. You didn’t even know you were crying until he spoke, and now every time you tried to rein them in, more made their way out. “I’m here, you’re not alone.”

Jin wasn’t sure what came over him when he caught a glimpse of you entering the elevator, but he’d never been happier with his decision to run after you. Now as he felt you tremble in his arms, all he wanted was to make the fear go away. To make sure every tear was gone from your soft face and that nothing ever made you feel like this again.

He’s not really sure when he started to like you, but the moment he realized, it hit him like a truck. Maybe it was your kindness towards your elderly neighbor across the hall, or the way he could hear you belting out to your favorite music as you vacuumed your apartment. Or maybe it was because you were just so damn beautiful. With your sparkling eyes and the bright smile you gave him every time he was lucky enough to cross paths with you. He never stood a chance.

He really shouldn’t be feeling like this, like he wanted to keep holding you in his arms every day, to protect you. It made no sense after all, he was nothing but a stranger to you. But with every moment that passed, and every second that you didn’t push him away, something inside him fed hope that perhaps his feelings weren’t as one sided as he’d thought. 

“Listen,” he began again hoping to at least distract you. “You heard the maintenance guy not too long ago. The fire department has been called, we’ll be out of here in no time ok?” His voice was calm and soothing, and if it weren't for the fact that his touch sent a fire through your body, you're sure it would've been a cool balm to your nerves. You wipe your face with your sleeves and look up at him.

“I know, I- I just can’t breathe, I hate these things and it’s been too long now… I just-” You cut yourself off at the last minute to stop yourself from breaking down in front of him again.

“I understand ______. It’s perfectly reasonable for you to feel like this okay?” You nod and he reaches a hand to your face to wipe the remnants of a tear from your cheek. 

“You know -” he starts again, “ - one time I went fishing with a friend and our boat got stuck a few miles in. Man the fear I felt… I thought we’d be gone by then, but the human body is very resilient….” You listen as he rambles on about his friend and how he’s never taking him fishing again because not only were they  stuck in the middle of the sea, but they didn’t manage to catch a single fish. “Could you imagine my handsome face sunburnt? A horrible tragedy if there's ever been one..”

You latch on to his very word for who knows how long, until he’s got you giggling and the fear inside you is all but forgotten. The minutes pass and you don’t even realize that you’re still holding on to him until he reluctantly pulls away to offer you water, not fully letting go of your hand in the process. You both make it to the floor eventually, sitting side by side. He shares stories of his friends and you listen intently, now and again contributing with a comment and he swears your voice is the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

It’s almost a whole hour after the elevator stopped that you hear banging from the other side of the doors. Tears spring in your eyes again as you realize your imprisonment is almost over. Jin clears his throat and with a heavy heart you release his hand, knowing your time together is almost at its end too. He gathers his things from the floor and you help him. You’re not sure why you suddenly get so bold, but you let your fingers linger on his a little longer than necessary when you hand him back one of the chocolate bars you liked.

“Here” he says, handing it back to you. “I think you need it a little more than me right now” You chuckle and graciously accept it.

“Thank you Jin. I’d have gone completely mad without your help” He offers you a sweet content smile and your heart leaps, knowing it’s for you.

“Any time_____. Though let’s hope they actually fix this damn thing for once.”

The sounds of the doors being pushed open grow louder and the relief you feel when you start hearing voices outside is indescribable. As soon as you are able to, you pull away from Jin and drag your way out into the bright sunlight you never thought you’d see again. The firefighters help Jin pull you up and out of the elevator, slowly pulling you to the side to tend to your hand.

 There’s a small crowd standing by the lobby, watching and shaking their heads as they watch the firemen work. A few of them have less than kind looks for the owner as he stumbles his way in, with disheveled clothes and a distraught look in his eye. You’re offered an oxygen mask and you watch as a few moments later Seokjin is also pulled out to his freedom. He finds you almost immediately and moves his way over to you with nothing but relief in his eyes. 

“You okay?” he says as he pulls an oxygen mask to his face.

“Yeah, much better now.” 

“I’m glad. You were very brave, you know?” You scoff and he shakes his head. “Now don’t give me that, I'm serious ______. If we’d been stuck in a room full of insects you'd have had to give me cpr.” 

“Well let's hope the owner never decides to start a butterfly sanctuary on the roof”

“I would literally move cities” He deadpans and you start to laugh again. 

The rest of the afternoon passes by in a blur as the firemen ask you a bunch of health questions. The owner comes by to apologize to the both of you, begging  you not to press any charges and only leaving you both alone once you both agreed to. Jin’s hand finds its way to yours again, and this time neither one of you breaks the contact.  

After the sun has long left the sky, the lobby is mostly empty save for the maintenance folks who work on the elevator that you never want to spare another glance to. Jin makes to stand. 

“Come on _____ let me walk you up to your apartment. With the way the elevator went, I’m not taking any chances with the stairs” You actually let yourself laugh at that and take his outstretched hand to pull yourself up. “Are you hungry?” As if on queue your stomach decides to growl loudly. You throw your hand over your stomach and his face breaks into a huge grin.  

“I’m actually starving, now that you mention it'' you admit sheepishly. 

“Well I got some dinner waiting to be reheated at home and I wouldn’t mind sharing. What do you say?” He gives you a smile so dazzling, you think you’d melt back into the ground if it weren’t for his steady arm holding on to you. 

“I’d love that” 

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! 💜 [If you liked this please help me out by leaving some feedback on my ask box. It’s always appreciated!]

[brywrites]

Lock and Key I

Summary: In which Spencer Reid stumbles upon a GED class at Millburn and feels something like hope for the first time in weeks.

[Series Masterlist]

....

The prison library is a haven, for the few minutes he’s allowed to visit twice a week. It’s quiet, secluded, and full of his favorite things – books. The selection is nowhere near as nice as his personal collection at home, or the public library, but it’s better than nothing. Without words, he’d go mad. He needs stories to keep him sane, to give him a route he can escape by.

Today though, he’s startled to walk into the small space and find twelve other prisoners inside – accompanied by a face he’s never seen before. A woman. What’s even more surprising is that she doesn’t wear the uniform of a guard or an employee. Instead she’s in Converse sneakers and a lavender polka-dotted dress. It’s been so long since he saw that color – any bright color, really. But it’s his favorite and it isn’t until that moment that the realizes how much he’s missed the simplest of things. The sight of his favorite color. Bright images in dull spaces. Things that look hopeful.

Reid isn’t sure what’s going on, but the other prisoners seem to be too absorbed in the books to notice him. Just as he’s thinking he can back away quietly and return tomorrow, she turns around, smiling at the sight of him.

“Well hello there!” she says. “Are you Luis?”

Reid tilts his head, confused. How does this stranger know his friend? “Uh, no, no I’m not. I’m sorry, who are you?”

Her smile drops, though she doesn’t seem annoyed. Merely disappointed. “Oh. They told me Luis would be joining us today, but he never showed up. I’m Y/N. I’m one of the teachers here.”

This is the first he’s heard of such a thing. “You teach?”

She nods. “That’s right! I teach a couple of different groups – a few college classes here and there, a resume workshop. This is my GED class. We’re starting a unit on British Literature so they’ve all come to pick out a novel. You must be new here,” she notes, looking him over. He can feel himself flush under her gaze. It’s been a while since someone looked at him just to see him and not to evaluate his potential as a threat or a tool. “If you’d like, you can join the class. I’ve got plenty of open seats.”

“Oh no, I don’t need a GED.”

“It’s never too late to graduate,” she says. Then, considering him, “But that’s not what you meant is it?”

The way she’s studying him makes him nervous, though he’s certain it’s the same way he’s studied suspects and victims, trying to see beyond the obvious and understand what lies beneath. How strange, to be on the other side of that stare. “I’ve graduated high school already,” he informs her, hoping he doesn’t sound aloof. “And college. Actually, I hold three PhDs.”

“In what?”

“Mathematics, chemistry, and engineering.”

Y/N holds his gaze, taking this in. It’s as though she’s trying to decide whether or not to believe him. He figures in this environment, perhaps it’s not unusual to be told blatant lies by some prisoners. Delusion and paranoia aren’t uncommon. To teach in a place like this, she would have to be insightful and observant. For whatever reason, she must decide to trust him, because she smiles again.

“Well that’s rather impressive. You’re more qualified than I am. Just a Master’s for me.”

Reid decides against commenting in the irony of the situation, that despite his qualifications he’s nothing but a prisoner here. The same category as every drug-dealer, murderer, petty thief, and gangbanger. No better. But the way she looks at him, it at least makes him feel normal again. She looks at him like he’s a human being, with no disdain or disgust in her gaze, and no air of superiority in her voice.

“What did you study?” he asks her.

“English literature in college, education in grad school. I specialized in literature and languages, though I’m not too shabby when it comes to history. If it’s the STEM field you’ll be wanting though, you’ll have to check in on Tuesdays and Thursdays, my colleague teaches those classes.”

Glancing down at her watch, her eyes widen. “Goodness, we’re almost out of time.” She turns to the other inmates and instructs them to make their choices before she has to dismiss class for the day. To him, she adds, “It was nice to meet you – um…”

“Doct-” he begins, before stopping himself. This isn’t a normal introduction. Here, he holds no title, no position of importance. “Er, Spencer. My name is Spencer.”

“Well, Doc –” He tries not to smile at her casual acknowledgment – “if you ever change your mind, we meet Mondays and Wednesdays in room W15 during the afternoon rec slot.”

Despite having no need to attend a GED class, and for reasons he cannot quite explain, he finds himself slipping into that very room on Wednesday afternoon. Y/N glances up from the whiteboard she writes on, faltering for only a brief moment when she catches sight of him slipping into an empty seat in the back row, but she carries on. They’re talking about common themes in Brit Lit, and she’s explaining the Canterbury Tales, which they’ll be reading parts of. From what Reid gathers, there aren’t enough copies of books for them to all read the same novel, but she’s printed out large sections of the Tales for them to read together. It’s familiar, and for someone whose life has largely revolved in academia, it’s soothing to be in an environment where learning is taking place and discussion is happening. Even though he sits silently in the back row, observing.

The other inmates have all picked out books to read on their own and report on, from King Lear to Brave New World. A few have even selected Bronte and Austen novels, which Y/N applauds them for. When she divides them into groups to read and discuss “The Knight’s Tale,” she slips over to join Reid in the back of the room.

“I didn’t think you’d make it, Doc,” she tells him.

He shrugs. “I – I’ve kind of missed the classroom. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to sit in. If you don’t mind, of course!”

“Not at all.” She smiles, dismissing his worry with a wave of her hand. “The more the merrier. Besides, it’s rare that I have students with such an extensive education beforehand.  You’ll need to file an enrollment slip though, just for official records.”

She hands him a piece of paper and a commissary pen. While he doesn’t need the credit, he could use the normalcy. Discussions about books with other people in a space that feels a little safer – even if it doesn’t look like the classrooms he’s used to. The walls are stark white and bare save for three posters of famous writers and scientists. The two windows have thick bars on them. The desks are bolted to the floor. Every man in the room wears prison issued blues. But there is a whiteboard and a bookshelf and a clock. And Y/N, in a bright blue turtleneck. It makes him think of the sky, which he only gets a glimpse of for a few hours each week. Suddenly, she’s become the most vivid connection to the outside world.

“How long have you been teaching here?” he asks as he writes down answers to the form’s printed questions.

“Almost three years now. It started with just GED classes, but some volunteer programs have helped us bring new opportunities to the guys. It took me a while to convince the warden, but they’ve been a huge success. So are you coming from another facility? I know we had some transfers last week.”

He shakes his head. “I uh, I haven’t been sentenced yet. But there was overcrowding at the jail so they sent me here.” Reid pauses. “I assumed you would’ve known that.” The inmate records are publicly available. All she’d have to do is search his name or the number on his clothing and everything she needed to know would be right there – his charges, his admission date, his identifying information and that ID photo from his first day.

But she just shrugs. “I make a point not to look up what my students have been convicted of. I let them volunteer that information if they choose to, but I respect their privacy. Besides, I’d like to believe all of us are more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.”

He’s struck by her words. After all, for the last decade his job has been to see people precisely as the worst thing they’ve ever done. To delve deep into those actions and develop a profile of a person on that alone. He has an impulse to dismiss her statement as naïve, but it reminds him of Garcia, of her boundless optimism and her ability to see the best in the world even after looking at the worst of it. That memory and the smile Y/N looks at him with softens the heart he’s been carefully hardening since he arrived here. And so rather than dampen her spirit he asks, “Does it matter if I’ve read all of the books you’re discussing already?”

Her eyes widen ever so slightly with surprise. “All of them?”

“My mother was a literature professor,” he says. “And I just really like books.”

“Well, typically I’d encourage you to take the courses we offer for college credit but they’re full. Since you already have your GED, I suppose we could treat it like you’re auditing. It might help some of the guys to have someone with a little more academic experience…” She trails off and then gasps. “Oh wait! How would you feel about being the TA for the class? It’s been so long since I had one for the GED classes.”

“Like… grade papers and things?”

“No, not like that,” she says. “There are strict rules about who sees what here. Being a TA for me would be less typical TA duties and more of mentoring the other students, helping me clean up after class, re-shelving books, things like that. It’s not an official job so there’s no pay, but you would get good time credit.”

Though he doesn’t know what his sentence here will be, if he’s sentenced at all, he knows that any good time credit he can obtain to reduce the length of it is worth it. And so he says, “Okay.”

Y/N’s eyes light up. Her smile is the prettiest thing he’s seen since he got here. “Perfect! Oh, this is so exciting. I’m glad you joined us.” When he finishes the paperwork, she leads him to an empty seat at a group of tables.

“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong, Porkchop. It’s a love story,” one of the men is saying to another.

“Come on now, Xavier, you know the rules,” Y/N interrupts. “Nicknames stay outside the classroom. We use first names here.”

“Sorry, Teach,” Xavier says. He tries again. “It’s a love story, Carl.”

“That’s more like it. Carl, I can’t wait to hear your response. But first, I’m going to have Spencer join your group, alright? He’s our newest student and our TA for the class. He’s read a lot of these books so if you’re having a hard time or want to talk to someone about the material outside of class time, he’s a great person to ask.”

The group welcomes him – Xavier, Carl, Richie, and Luis. Reid is grateful to be with Luis, the one person he knows he can consider a friend inside. They talk about Chaucer and “The Franklin’s Tale,” and he’s surprised by the critiques and connections his peers make. Their debate is certainly different than the conversation he’d expect to find at a university class, but their ideas are still insightful and interesting. They make connections to their own lives, to the sacrifices they have made and the power of love they have witnessed firsthand. Mothers who never stop fighting for their appeal cases. Friends who send money so they can afford commissary. The difficulty of skipping commissary so they can send money home to their own families outside.

When their discussion finally winds down, Reid asks, “What’s the rule with nicknames about?”

“It’s Miss Y/N’s way of humanizing people,” Xavier says. “She says when we use first names like that, we’re all equals. But it’s different outside of class. We stick to nicknames because that’s what you do, y’know?” Reid shakes his head. Xavier chuckles. “You’re fresh meat, huh. First time you been down? In here, COs turn you into just a number or a last name. So nicknames inside are a way to hold on to some of your identity. Beyond that, there’s some guys in here you don’t want knowing your name, you feel me?”

“Nicknames gotta be given to you by someone else. Can’t make your own. Course, that means they’re usually a little insulting. They call me Porkchop,” Carl says. “Xavier’s Hammerhead. Richie is Spiders. And Luis, he been christened Slim Jim yesterday at chow. But don’t worry, we’ll find one for you soon.” Reid isn’t sure how to feel about the assurance. He doesn’t want to belong here, doesn’t want to fit in or get comfortable. On the other hand, he may be here for a while. Maybe laying low and finding allies wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

He knows one thing for sure – as he walks out of class, Y/N flashes that bright smile at him again. And for some reason, it makes him feel hopeful. More hopeful than any session with lawyers or judges has made him feel. Monday can’t come soon enough.

[Next]

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Tags: @calm-and-doctor​ @averyhotchner​