I'm literally so obsessed with people who like fully and completely ignored site lore in their own lore lamenting the Beastclan change. like are you telling me you threw out everything EXCEPT the colonialism

loses my mind that they’ve known each other for over a year at that point (even if first four months was just bumping into each other at her work or around the city a bunch) but like um [redacted] was fascinated by her right away… which quickly turned into a weird obsession of wanting to figure her out… and he still hasn’t admitted mayhaps he had caught feelings a bit too quickly… hence the not date definitely dates… whereas diana like definitely started trusting him (in certain aspects) and kinda i guess maybe considered him something of a friend (which she didn’t know she needed) and recently she came to the realisation that somewhere along the line she caught feelings….

sorry I;m new and it's a lot to catch up on but can you briefly explain your better call mapleshade au?

Sure thing! As long as you don't mind that I'm gonna hijack your ask to answer a few other meta things at the same time! @katiek101 Rounding up your replies over here.

Btw never be afraid to just ask me questions about stuff, I need to update my Masterpost because I haven't added to it in a couple weeks but I'm always willing to just link people to stuff when asked!

What is the Better Call Mapleshade AU?

I summarized it in this reblog, which also contains @nightly-ruse design for BCM Mapleshade!

"Mapleshade is able to get into StarClan through a very slim ruling out of sympathy for the loss of her kits. She’s a prosecutor/defense attorney motivated by her own desire to be highly revered, playing as a literal “devil’s advocate“ against the awful choices we see StarClan make in canon.

In contrast to StarClan being the ‘council of well-meaning angels‘ who cause bad outcomes, Mapleshade is a self-concerned demon who makes good ones. Because of that, she looks somewhat out of place. An opposer for StarClan, a devil for a good cause.

The AU was born out of some joking with “Snowbird Anon” (hence the name #Better Call Mapleshade AU) and then evolved into an actual premise because my followers are literally the coolest"

It is separate from the #Bonefall Rewrite, but was inspired by aspects of it, namely a trial scene that is going to happen in Darkstar's Commandment.

though to be fair, I am considering just absorbing it into the rewrite. but for now they are still two separate, but related concepts

Do you plan to write/publish any aspects of the Bonefall Rewrite? Where would it be posted if so?

I WISH. Unfortunately I'm chronically unable to finish anything and only motivated by talking directly to people (I actually write first drafts of college essays in discord DMs). In a perfect world I would love to make full multi-chapter fics of the Super Edition rewrites such as Darkstar's Commandment and Firestar's Quietus, though.

Maybe one day, if I can speak to a psychiatrist! **laughs in undiagnosed neurodivergence**.

SO for now, everything is notes! Notes notes notes and rough drafts. The things I AM able to finish. If I ever wrote out anything, I would upload it to AO3. I promise I would make a post if that ever happens.

THE CURRENT NOTES I'M EDITING: Darkstar's Commandment, a follow-up story to Mapleshade's Vengeance, following Darkstar as she establishes the law about protecting kittens.

Blackstar, Russetfur, Rowanclaw

I powered through all of the "History Has Its Eyes On You" series in like 3 days between bus rides! I really like the take on them being a complicated couple (I keep thinking of that line, "their nests were as close as could be without being close at all") and my favorite story was the one where Russetfur went to bury Smokepaw.

Things are really different in my take, though! I see Blackstar as exclusively MLM and Russetfur is his WLW bestie. If Russet has children, they'll be honor dammed and raised by someone else.

I think you will quite like what I'm planning for Russetfur's death. It's a moment of deep pain for Blackstar that makes him relapse into some old, bad habits, leaving him wide open for Sol's influence.

Blackstar's sister Fernshade is going to have surviving children with Wolfstep (Ivytail is one of them, who eventually has Gullswoop), and I'm considering giving Flintfang a kitten or two as well. So there won't be a need for Blackstar to have kids anyway, besides, I like the idea that he's sort of Ivytail's embarrassing uncle, in a ShadowClan way where he's super intimidating to other clans.

And so Rowanclaw won't be part of that family... he is a son of Brokenstar. Same litter as Littlecloud, from Newtspeck. He will be bonding heavily with Tawnypelt over a shared experience of inheriting something VERY heavy.

Firestar's Quest with Brokenstar Details

The good deets are in this ask over here, but I really need to sit down and make a draft of it sometime soon. I'm held up on Darkstar's Commandment first, lmao

In a nutshell, Brokenstar was actually a nature spirit the whole time, the ghost of the 5th tree at Fourtrees. After the exile, the oak tree was blighted, fell over, and cracked on the highstone. It broke in the shape of Broken's tail; an omen of the curse that would befall them, revenge for the greatest sin of the clans.

This is (Brokenstar's Cataclysm)

After his death, he reconnects to these memories. In order for his restless spirit to finally be given peace, SkyClan must be resurrected. Runningnose enlists Firestar to help because he's such a little goody-goody two shoes and could never let an ancient wrong go unrighted. Hilarity ensues.

This is (Firestar's Quietus)

heyo!! i was wondering if you would mind writing hc’s for a reader who just had a major accomplishment but their parents don’t really congratulate them or anything, and then philza celebrates with them instead and tells reader how proud he is. i kinda want some dadza comfort rn :’) anyway, thank you sm!! have a great day <3

accomplishments

heyo!! i was wondering if you would mind writing hc’s for a reader who just had a major accomplishment but their parents don’t really congratulate them or anything, and then philza celebrates with them instead and tells reader how proud he is. i kinda want some dadza comfort rn :’) anyway, thank you sm!! have a great day <3

hello anon! i’m sorry i took a while to answer this. i went a bit off track with this and got A LOT more angsty, so i’m really sorry about that. If you want me to make a much more fluffier or mellowed-out version, i’d be happy to. please, read the trigger warnings before reading this.

i don’t plan on writing more angst-y things like this, especially not this angsty, so don’t worry. once again, please, if you would like me to rewrite this into a less emotional version i’d be happy to

cw: swearing

tw: talk of god and the church, slight manipulation, repetition of words

accomplishments:

  holy shit. you were in disbelief. a state of shock. one million twitch followers. one. million. followers. you were silent. shock can have many effects on a person. some scream and laugh out of joy, or a misplaced sense of mania. others cry, because they cannot handle it. some remain confused, because their brains are unable to conceptualize the event. you were silent.

  what should you do? would a “thank you” tweet be good enough or would it come off as insincere? should you wait to stream? or would that make people feel you didn’t care because you took so long? through the anxiety you could feel the true realization that you now had one million followers. like a truck, you were hit with the most excited feeling ever. getting up, you jumped around your room. you spun and jumped and cheered and whooped and yelled and smiled and danced and were overflowing with joy, with the acknowledgement that you had done it, you had really fucking done it. 

  opening the window above your desk, without a single fuck, you screamed. “WHOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! FUCK YEAH!!!!!!” let’s just hope your neighbors don’t wake up.

  you stayed up all night, celebrating. tweeting out a thank you, you received congratulations from your fans and friends while you talked with the people in your discord vcs.

  in the morning, your mother and father had woken up. with a newfound determination, you ran downstairs. streaming was your passion and you wanted to tell the world what you had done. but, because of limitations, your mother was your metaphorical world.

  “mom! mom! mom! mother, mother, mumther!!” you shouted, dashing down the stairs, tripping over your feet. stupid wood flooring and slidy socks.

  from your place at the bottom of the stairs, you heard her sigh, “yes, sweetie?”

  you bounded over to her, setting your arms on the kitchen counter. from the hallway you could see your dad, who was sitting on the couch drinking his sunday morning coffee. “mom! guess what?” without giving her time to respond, you shouted, “i hit one million follows on twitch! one freaking million!”.

  your mother didn’t seem as enthusiastic as you. “is that why you were causing such a ruckus last night? and, watch your mouth, even though ‘freaking’ isn’t a ‘true’ curse, i don’t want you swearing. especially not on the lord’s day. i couldn’t fathom going to church everyday, only to allow you to have a mouth like that.” she continued to stare at her work papers.

  “oh, uh, okay mother. dad? did you hear me? i hit one million on twitch.” you awkwardly turned your head over to your father.

  “she’s right, you know that, don’t you sweetie?” your father stood up, and made his way into the kitchen. “language like that, it’s shameful. surely, we don’t need you to have a private session with father paulson, do we?” your dad stood next to your mother, rubbing her back as he stared at you.

  “no, no, of course not. um, i’m gonna go upstairs now.” you turned around, wishing you could simply disappear.

  “without breakfast? are you truly that upset with us? we can’t have you ending up like those people, committing sinful acts and going to hell. god would never forgive you. we’re already taking a risk allowing you to stream, putting yourself out there.”

  both your mother and father stared at you. your blood felt like ice in your veins. the white walls of your house seemed so much brighter, yet duller at the same time. everything felt a white-pure-pink-orange. your breathing got uneasy. choppy. in, out, out, in, in, in, out, in, in, out, out for different increments of time. 5, 3, 2, 7, 10, 9, 6, 4, 1, 6, 8, seconds, over and over and over.

  “we just wanna protect you, dear. we love you, don’t you get that?” your mother stared at you.

  you felt like a scene in those movies. the ones that directly cater to teens who thought their lives were shit when in reality they just hadn’t grown up enough to make sense of something yet. were you one of those teens? or is this actually wrong. you don’t think it is, but you don’t talk to others about this. family matters stay in the family was a common phrase repeated in your household. the church was family, they could know. your mother and father, they could know. others, they must not know, never know.

  “of course, mother, father.” you wanted to force yourself to speak, but syllables were incapable of getting past your lips. your mouth was full of peanut butter from the sandwiches served in your elementary school cafeteria. but, the partly frozen chocolate milk always washed it down. “of course. i love you guys too. love you.” you smiled, a disgusting smile that felt violating to exist on your face, violating, violating, violating.

  you dashed up the stairs, to your room, up, up, up. running in, you wanted to slam the door, scream out the window, puch your pillow, smash your pc, cry, whatever you could do to get out your emotions. but instead, you lightly shut your door and slowly walked over to your desk chair to see who was online. you would go live later. it was only 5 AM, after all. they could wait. at least, you hoped they could.

  opening discord, just to see what everyone was doing, you saw philza minecraft was online. you went over and messaged him, ‘phil. philza. philza minecraft. vc please?’ in response, you received a short, ‘sure m8, gimme a minute’ you waited, until you heard the noise confirming he had joined.

  “good morning phil.” your energy from before had receded back into the confines of your chest. the prior excitement was gone and replaced with a feeling of fatigue.

  “morning mate, how are you? congrats on the one mill!” phil sounded excited, happy for you. you smiled, chuckling a bit.

  “i’m alright man, just tired. how are you? and, thanks for the congrats.” you smiled, feeling the fatigue set in.

  “i’m good. but you, you don’t sound very good. couldn’t sleep, could ya’? that was how i was when i hit one mill. way too excited to sleep.”

  “yeah. yeah, i’m just tired.” you were getting a bit too tired to talk. the day had barely started, and yet the full-body emotional exhaustion had set.

  “‘just tired’? the hell happened kid?” phil’s voice sounded concerned. fuck. the last thing you wanted to do was worry him. he had his own life and you had already caused enough trouble today.

  “it’s nothing big phil, seriously. just my parents.” there, a slight bit of information. family matters still within the family, just a few words.

  “they being shitbirds? or are you lying, and something big did happen?” he was being inquisitive, which was dangerous. questions were dangerous.

  “no, why would i lie?” his inquisitiveness would continue, you knew. so you spilled the metaphorical beans. “they just, just weren’t as supportive as i’d wished they were when i told them. i was really psyched, y’know? and them, just sort of, not giving a shit? i don’t know man, it just feels bad.”

  “i get you. it’s shit, when people don’t care about your accomplishments. my parents never really saw streaming as a true profession in the beginning, which led to shit like you describing. i promise it gets better though, even if it feels like shit now. and, for what it’s worth, i’m proud of you.”

  “it’s fine phil, you don’t need to try to make me feel better. i’m okay, seriously.” you didn’t need or want his pity. accepting it would feel patronizing.

  “no, you need to understand that i’m not fucking around. one million is a big fuckin’ thing, especially for you who hasn’t been streaming all that long to achieve. it’s fucking amazing, mate. be proud of yourself, for christ’s sake.” his fake anger chimed through your headphones. even though you were being berated, you still felt better.

  “thank you, phil. i needed that.”

  “your welcome, mate. and look, anytime your parents are being shit, don’t try to hold it all in. call me, or wil, or someone, okay? don’t hold that shit in.”

  you fake sighed, just to piss him off. “okayyyyyy….”

  “good. now, go take a nap or some shit. i love you, kid.”

  “love you too, dadza.” this time, your words didn’t feel forced. the smile on your face wasn’t violating, but an invitation to better times. it would be alright. okay.

Ay sorry for being dead again have some angst

School's awful- the only thing I could've done in these days was doodle dump on my school diary and literally all my school notebooks and share the doodles with my buddies on Discord-

So since I caught a bad cold, I had some time to do more stuff- other than sleeping because I'm kinda feeling like shit-

Recently I joined a Sweet Cap'n Cakes Discord server and basically everyone was drawing SCC getting plugged by the wires sjjdjsd so I had a very evil idea- like- a very evil one-

Wired!MIDI

But it's not only that.

This is canon

Yes I'm evil. Yes I'm sorry ajdjsj

Basically the wire forcely plugged itself, pretty much destroying most of his head, cuz- y'know he didn't had any actual holes or som for the plug. This explains the broken screen. Being wired causes MIDI to lose his memory in a way that nothing is actually new to him, he just can't understand why or how he feels like he's already seen the places/people he ends up into.

If that wasn't enough, the wire drains most of MIDI's energy and makes it really painful to talk or move a lot. Because of that he's mostly standing very still in the same position and being almost completely non-verbal. He can only give very small responses, usually one-worded ones. I was thinking about sign language for communication, but I'm still not sure, for now I'll stick with writing on a notebook. He can get unplugged by Ralsei casting Pacify, unless you go for Snowgrave.

[click for better quality I don't even have to explain why nsjd]

This gave me the chance to rewrite a bit the relationship that MIDI has with SCC before and after getting wired. I'm just going to dump them all here under the read more so you can read whenever you'd like sudjd

━━━━━━━━━━━━✁━━━━━━━━━━━━

Ok so basically

This will be super long and awfully written you've been warned ok sidjj

The idea that came to my mind was that SCC was indeed a struggling band. This is because other more modern and advanced music robots were gaining more popularity. MIDI was pretty much in a phase of "I'm not like other girls"(boys in this case lma) cuz basically he liked to explore different music genres than the more popular ones, like SCC. Sweet, between the three, was the one that was more pissed off by the thing. But like- really pissed off. I mostly see Sweet as the oldest, but since they let themselves get dragged away by their emotions, they end up experiencing said emotions in a more amplified way, maybe even exaggerated. They felt like MIDI was "stealing their spotlight". Cap'n was pissed off too, but not that much. K_K, on the other hand, didn't really care about getting angry at any other robot being more popular than them.

Of course MIDI caught the attention of Queen in no time because no one could deny that he was pretty skilled. Queen so invites MIDI at the palace to make him her new musician, although without telling him the existence of SCC. When MIDI finds it out, he's super pissed, he's a nice guy after all, he didn't want to steal anyone's job. So, all that stuff from my recent fic happens. If you didn't see it yet, it's on my first post about MIDI. But basically, MIDI got slightly interested into K_K, and decides to improvise being the hero and save SCC to gain their trust, and maybe be able to know the trio, but specifically K_K, a bit more.

Sweet and Cap'n are quite concerned of MIDI's behavior with K_K, because in fact, they both are in a polycule with K_K. Sweet could try to be nice to not just- straight up be rude to the guy who just saved them- but they just can't. They lose their temper, also because they're convinced that MIDI has some sort of plans going on etc etc. Cap'n is on Sweet's side, but of course he tries to calm them down, also because they surely brought MIDI into a panic attack. MIDI didn't know about the trio being in a relationship and he felt so fucking bad for trying to sneak in out of nowhere, invading their personal space.

Cap'n then had an idea. If K_K was also interested in MIDI, they would've talked it out. MIDI just acts normally until K_K actually starts getting slightly closer to him, of course without ignoring their bfs. MIDI is nervous to start talking about the polycule topic, so he waits for K_K to do it themselves, which doesn't take long at all. Sweet and Cap'n want K_K to be happy, and if they were happy with hanging out with MIDI too, it was ok for them to enlarge the polycule a little bit.

So, MIDI and K_K start slowly getting into a relationship, altho this was- sorta hampered by Sweet still being way too overprotective. Despite that, MIDI kept hanging out with Sweet and Cap'n too, also because it would've been pretty much an asshole-move if he didn't. He genuinely liked to hang out with them as best homies.

Seeing how nice MIDI actually was despite Sweet continuing to be passive-aggressive towards him, Cap'n slowly changed his mind on what he thought about MIDI. Maybe he even started to get slightly interested in him.

One day, Sweet send MIDI away to get some scrap parts for them, just to stop Cap'n from flirting with him. On the way home, MIDI suddenly gets attacked by the wires and ends up getting plugged by one of them.

Not being able to remember anything, MIDI was tired and constantly in pain. SCC are hugely worried about him, and try everything to let him out of the control of the wire. Seeing MIDI like that, Sweet felt horrendously awful for being that shitty with him. Moreover they blame themselves more than everyone, as if they didn't send MIDI out because of their stubbornness, maybe he wouldn't have been plugged by the wire.

But of course I wanted to end it in a good way. If you don't end up doing Snowgrave, SCC will go ask for help to Ralsei, who will cast Pacify on MIDI, unplugging the wire. After he gets repaired he magically manifests pupils because I say so skdk but also gets his memory back. Sweet won't stop apologizing for quite a long time, as they still think it's their fault. MIDI would eventually explain to Sweet that it's not their fault at all and that he understands that he got so overprotective. Plus, MIDI actually admires Sweet's determination in wanting to protect who they love.

Sweet and MIDI won't be going any step further from "friends/homies", while with Cap'n and K_K, MIDI will establish a proper relationship. This being more in a romantic way for K_K's case.

A Miraculous Second Chance

🧡 ~KiriBaku Drabble~ ❤️

Summary: An accident happens and Bakugou has a bad head injury that affects his relationship with Kirishima.

Warnings: cursing

So I realize that this drabble has a lot of holes and things wrong with it but I won’t ever actually write this because it’d be a lot to tackle, especially with basically rewriting Bakugou’s much needed character development buuuuut I thought of this and needed to share it. This was just a series of messages in a discord so, it’s choppy, there’s grammar mistakes, I go back and forth between Kiri and Kirishima, but I still love it. So I hope you enjoy it for the mess that it is 😊

Bakugou and Kirishima are dating, it’s their third year at AU, Bakugou is out on a work study mission, fighting villains ya know the norm, but something goes wrong and he hits his head somehow, gets knocked out, and has to go to the hospital. Once Kiri gets word that he’s hurt he rushes to the hospital and by the time he gets there Bakugou has only been awake for about 5-10 minutes and the doctor is talking to him and his parents are outside of his door. Kiri runs for his room and Mitsuki sees him and tries to speak to him, “wait Kirishima we need to talk to you real quick” but..

“I need to see him! Just let me him first please!”

Mitsuki tries to stop him but he barges through anyway.

“Katsuki!! Oh my god thank god you’re okay!” He walks over to Bakugou and hugs him but Bakugou is freaked out and pushes him off.

“Don’t fucking touch me who do you think you are?!”

Eijirou backs away from him to give him some space. “What- katsuki it’s okay it’s me, it’s Eijirou.”

“I don’t know who the fuck you are- and stop using my given name!”

And Eijirou is just stunned. Eyes wide, mouth slightly parted, eye brows scrunched up.

Mitsuki speaks up again, “Kirishima, honey. A word?”

Bakugou is just glaring at him and he can’t take it so he walks out of the room and next to Bakugou’s mom.

Kirishima is gutted. Understandably. With Bakugou being Bakugou he’s not gonna continue a relationship with some random stranger. (I’ll be continuing with bulletpoints)

Last thing Bakugou remembers is him finding out he got accepted into UA

Kiri had to explain the situation to rest of the BakuSquad and they now understand that Bakugou will be okay he just needs some space from everyone so he doesn’t get overwhelmed so they can’t bombard him with their usual nonsense.

But then BakuSquad asks about their relationship and Kiri just shakes his head and says “but I don’t blame him” and he’s been trying to hold back his tears. Of course he cried the night he saw Bakugou in the hospital but since then he’s been trying to suck it up because itd be selfish of him to cry over their relationship when Bakugou is going through something worse, right? So he should just be thankful that he’s alive and okay. But the bottle that’s been filling up with his emotions for the past couple days inevitably explodes and he starts to sob in front of his friends.

Bakugou is back to keeping his distance from everybody.

At first he’s given a little time to adjust to his “new” life before he asks about everything that’s happened to him but he definitely wants to know everything.

Kiri is trying to be friendly towards him. says hi to him every morning, tries to ask him questions about what he last remembers.

He gets a stern answer, “that I got accepted into UA.”

He hates the answer because that means Bakugou knows literally nothing about Kirishima, and what him and his class went through, or things they’ve done together.

Kirishima is hurting but he thinks he’ll be okay because at least he still gets to see Bakugou everyday.

He once accidentally called him Katsuki and apologized profusely. But what Kiri doesn’t know (thanks to Bakugou’s glare) is that Bakugou maybe, sort of, kind of liked the way his name sounded coming from Kiri’s mouth JUST A LITTLE THOUGH OKAY?

They soon become sort of friends again and Kiri is ecstatic by the minuscule amount of progress.

There’s a test coming up and Kiri asks Bakugou if he can help him study.

“Why the fuck would I wanna do that, Shitty-hair?”

“oh.. right.. sorry. Um, I’ll just ask Yaoyorozu then.” Kiri at least tries to think about the silver lining that is Bakugou calling him “shitty-hair” for the first time since the incident, but he’s still sad.

The sad look on Kiri’s face is foreign and horrible and why the fuck can’t Bakugou stand to look at it?! “Shut up. If you need help you might as well get it from the best in the class. I’ll help you. But don’t even think about mentioning it to the others” - there that’s better. That bright smile is back on Kiri’s face. Bakugou has to bite his cheek to keep him from smiling even the slightest bit.

 CUE THE FIRST NIGHTMARE.

Bakugou is surrounded by people he’s never seen before, everything around him is just rubble, and these people are trying to capture him, but he’s dodging and fighting back.

He wakes up to loud knocking on his door and realizes he’s sweating and breathing super heavy.

He lets Kiri in his room.

Kiri is asking if he’s okay and if he had a nightmare.

Bakugou gives short and simple answers as he tried to calm his breathing down.

He’s finally calm and he tells him what his dream was about.

Kiri is shocked tries his best to calmly break it to Bakugou that that actually happened.

They decide to tell Aizawa and Recovery Girl tomorrow but for now Bakugou wants to try and go back to sleep.

Cut Kiri some slack here, he’s half awake and his brain is in Comfort-Bakugou Mode, so when he tries to slide under the covers of Bakugou’s bed he’s all the sudden getting yelled at.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Shit shit! Shit! We would- or I would- um uh.. well we used to sleep together sometimes and especially if you had a nightmare.. but it’s okay I’ll just leave! Goodnight Ka- Bakugou!” And Kiri runs out of his room feeling absolutely mortified.

Bakugou is just sitting in his bed stunned. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was fucking KIDNAPPED once.. but he was also thinking about how that was the first time Kirishima said anything about when they were together. He tries not to think about what their relationship could’ve been like because it’s doing something weird to him like holy shit they slept in the same bed??? That guy?? With the stupid red hair?? Hair that honestly looked better down if Bakugou was concerned but he shouldn’t be, so he isn’t…

As Bakugou is falling asleep he thinks about how he finally wants to know about everything that happened to him in the last two and a half years.

So Bakugou talks to aizawa and recovery girl the next day and he gets a brain scan to see if maybe that one part of his brain that was damaged was healing at all.

The result: nothing much has changed with his brain.

He’s starting to get frustrated because he wants to remember but it looks like there was no hope of that happening anytime soon so he has to settle for stories from other people.

Sure he wants to know everything but good God a lot of shit has happened so he decides vague details for now are best.

Kiri just pretends that he didn’t try to sleep with Bakugou the night before and tries his best to act normal around him and it helps that Bakugou doesn’t bring it up.

Kiri really wants to tell him about their relationship though.. maybe one day. But as soon as he thought he was feeling better, he’s back to excusing himself from the lunch table because he can’t stop thinking about how much he loves Bakugou and wants him back and fuck he just really needs to have a cry right now. Luckily there isn’t anyone in the bathroom so he’s able to cry in peace.

Over the next week Bakugou has a couple more nightmares and Kirishima simply goes over to his room to check on him and it kills him that that’s all he can do for him now.

But on one night, it’s Bakugou’s turn to be pounding on Kirishima’s door.

Kiri quickly gets out of bed to open his door “Bakugou? You alright?”

“Why didn’t you tell me…”

“Tell you.. what?”

Bakugou just stares into his soul, takes him in, his pretty hair that barely reaches his shoulders, his eyes, the scar above his right eye, his whole face, his lips- okay that’s enough... 

“Bakugou, I’ll tell you anything you want-”

“Why didn’t you tell that you were the one who.. who was there.. who called out to me.. whose hand I grabbed to escape those villains..”

Kirishima just stands there dumbfounded and says nothing because he didn’t really have a good answer to his question. Why didn’t he tell him? Because it was too much about them? Yeah maybe but looking at Bakugou’s face right now makes him feel real stupid for telling him nothing about that.

“I.. I really don’t know.. I’m sorry Bakugou.”

“Do you not have feelings for me anymore?”

Kiri could fucking laugh right now because that was the furthest thing from the truth, but of course he refrains.

“No! That’s not it at all.. I mean.. sorry I just.. I didn’t think you would want to know about us? Our relationship? I don’t know.. I feel dumb now for not telling you that at least.”

Bakugou keeps staring at him and Kirishima has no clue what to say or do with himself right now.

But Bakugou is annoyed. Annoyed that Kirishima wouldn’t tell him about that. Annoyed at how he’s been feeling towards Kirishima recently. Annoyed at how he wants to know everything about them, their relationship, what they did together, what sleeping next to him was like. He’s annoyed and he’s gonna do something about it.

So Bakugou takes a giant leap of faith, grabs Kirishima’s shoulders, and crashes his lips onto his. He really hopes that they’ve kissed before, otherwise this would probably be pretty fucking weird to do.

Kiri doesn’t kiss back right away because his brain needs to process what the hell is actually happening right now. But once he realizes that he isn’t in fact dreaming he puts his hands on Bakugou’s face and kissed him back.

When they pull apart they’re both breathless and blushing.

Bakugou’s stomach is doing flips and Kirishima is putting on the biggest smile he’s ever seen on him. And he’s almost mad at himself for not being able to remember what Kirishima looks like after kissing him like that. But he burns it in his memory this time and he silently swears to himself and to Kirishima that he’ll never forget again.

“I want to know everything about us.”

Kirishima can’t help it... he starts crying. But he’s crying because he’s so fucking happy and relieved and oh my god Bakugou kissed him again. “Okay, yeah. I’ll tell you everything.”

Bakugou lets a small smile form on his face. “It’s Eijirou, right?”

Kirishima nods frantically and wraps his arms around Bakugou’s neck and continues let the tears of joy fall down his face.

~Fin.

TOG whump?? TOG whump!

I sat my ass down and did some writing for the first time in weeks, here’s a rewrite of the scene in the lab with Joe and Nicky, now 10x whumpier! Full disclosure, all I’ve done is a couple sprints on discord to write this and haven’t re-read, so mistakes are likely and maybe I’ll fix them some day (or never)

(italics are spoken in Italian cause I’m not even sure if they’re speaking modern Italian or what and I know g**gle translate isn’t great)

The last thing Joe remembered was the sadistic doctor slicing into his chest and relieving him of his lungs. It had taken several moments for him to asphyxiate, Kozak watching intently to see how quickly his body would heal. If he hadn’t been strapped to the table he would have punched the curious look right off her face, he had thought to himself before succumbing to the darkness. 

Joe woke with a strangled gasp, fighting against the straps that still held him down. He breathed heavily, the sterile smell of the lab stinging his nose. He opened his eyes as he heard heels clicking across the floor as the doctor walked past him without sparing him a glance. Lolling his head to the side he caught sight of Nicky who was also strapped down and then back towards the doctor before he had to take a second take, realizing that Nicky was awake and watching him. When Joe had died, Nicky had still been unconscious from the sedatives but now he had patches of blood around his throat and various points on his chest. No open wounds though, to Joe’s relief. He looked to check that the doctor was fully gone before letting his head hit the bed again, sighing heavily.

“As much as I like watching you sleep, I’m glad you’re awake.” 

Joe turned towards him and opened his eyes sleepily. “Bedhead?” he asked with a smirk.

Nicky laughed and looked away, a huge smile cracking across his usually somber face. If his hands weren’t restrained, Joe knew he would be trying to hide that beautiful smile like he always did, no matter how often Joe insisted he shouldn’t. “Nicely tousled.”

Another small chuckle and silence fell around them, interrupted only by Joe groaning again, his shoulders aching from fighting the restraints and his chest sore from the extensive healing. Regrowing organs always took more out of them, especially a full one, let alone two. 

“Do you know, I was thinking about Malta,” Nicky said suddenly, drawing Joe’s attention back to him. He was staring at the ceiling, his face set like stone once again.

“What time in Malta?”

All Nicky had to do was give him a look and Joe knew what he meant.

“Oh, that time in Malta,” he said with a laugh.

Nicky stared at the ceiling again, his expression falling even more and Joe wished he could touch him, to press gentle kisses to the tense muscles on his forehead. 

“We should go back there.”

“That would be nice,” Joe said, looking over Nicky with a concerned smile. His words were hopeful, but there was something off in his voice and now he can see that Nicky’s eyes, even though he was staring at the ceiling, weren’t focusing on anything in particular. “Nicolo?”

Nicky blinked slowly, turning his head ever so slightly towards Joe’s voice and humming quietly. 

“Nicolo, what’s wrong?” Joe asked, trying to lift himself onto his elbows and leaning towards Nicky.

“Tired suddenly,” Nicky slurred out, his eyes falling shut.

“Nicky! Nicolo, please. Wake up, Nicolo.” 

Doctor Kozak paced back into the room, stepping between their beds and checking the IV inserted into Nick’s elbow, just above the strap that held his arm in place. How he hadn’t noticed it before, Joe couldn’t say, distracted as he had been just by seeing Nicky awake and talking perhaps. Kozak picked up a needle from the table beside her and injected the dark fluid it contained into the injection port on the tube that was inserted into Nicky’s arm. She disposed of the needle and rolled the clamp on the IV line back, opening it further and giving the bag a gentle squeeze. She marked something on a clipboard with a satisfied hum, checking the time before scratching something else on the page and then turned to Joe to inspect his chest.

“39 minutes to regrow your lungs, is that a fairly typical time for you? And do you each heal at the same speed or does it vary?” She asked, her pen poised over her clipboard and looking at him expectantly.

Joe pulled against his restraints again, his focus only on Nicky. “Nicolo! Wake up, Nicolo!”

He could see Nicky’s body slowly relaxing against the table, his breath uneven and the heart monitor above his head slowing, which only made Joe’s pound even faster. 

His head lolled and his chin dropped towards his chest as the slow beeping of the monitor finally stopped and turned to a monotonous whine. 

“Nicolo!” Joe felt like his throat would tear at how viciously he screamed, as though he could drown out the flatlining monitor and make it not true.

Kozak looked at the clock again and scribbled on her clipboard, but made no move to do anything else, staring only at Joe as if she expected him to answer the questions she had asked.

“No, don’t! Nicolo!” Joe screamed.

“What did you give him? What was that? Take it out, let him heal!”

Kozak rolled her eyes and reached over to clamp the line shut again, dropping her clipboard onto the table with a huff because she wasn’t getting her answers. When she turned back to Joe, she had another silver injector in her hands.

Kozak placed her hand on his jaw, forcing his head back to expose his throat and jammed the needle into the exposed vein there.

Joe sagged against the table, trying to keep his eyes open to look at Nicky. 

“Nicolo…”

Back to Campus: Spring 2021

It has been 10 long months since I last stepped foot on the Smith College campus (or out of my home state for that matter). I am now officially back! Hooray! As I said in a recent post, I was prioritized for early arrival due to my job in ResLife as a Community Advisor. As I only just got here and am far from being settled in, this post is mostly just about the process. Hopefully this year I will actually post a room tour of sorts! (Last year, I literally only posted a photo of my emptied out room).  

Back in mid-December, I signed up for an arrival slot (2:00 on Friday the 22nd of January). I was so excited about returning to campus that I started packing quite a while ago. To make the packing process easier in the future, I created an extensive packing list. To read my college essentials guide, click here. On Friday, my dad drove me to Smith. Before returning to campus, we stopped by the house of some family friends to grab the rest of my dorm essentials. Since Massachusetts considers my state (Vermont) high-risk, I wasn’t allowed to move directly into my spring housing. At this point in time, Massachusetts and Hawaii are the only states with low-risk status. 

My house, Parsons, has been using Discord for our virtual house community. You can read about the other apps I use in (remote) college here. As I was the first one on campus, I decided to keep my residents updated on the check-in and quarantine process. This was not part of my job in ResLife, but it definitely felt relevant to that work. Even though I am a returning student and in ResLife, I didn’t fully know what to expect and figured others would appreciate a student’s perspective. I was already planning on writing this blog post but decided to just compile my updates here. For starters, I didn’t see the need for a total rewrite. I also thought it would be a fun and different post style. Lastly, I think there is value in knowing what people are thinking in the moment rather than just reflectively. Note that my updates are written to my Parsons residents and weren’t edited to reflect the audience of this blog. I did add some additional images to this blog post, but most were also sent via Discord.

Friday @ 1:19

Parsons in real life! 

Friday @ 4:07

Just a quick update. I have moved into my quarantine location and thought I would let you all know a little more about the check-in process from a student's perspective. All official information can be found in an email titled "IMPORTANT ARRIVAL INFORMATION". You basically just enter the CC, present your OneCard (unless you are a new student in which case you will receive yours), follow the arrows, and do what you are told. The whole process is quick and easy. The COVID test is painless (you can feel it though) as the swab doesn't need to go super deep into your nose like with other tests. While I strongly advise showing up at your scheduled time, if you are a little bit early, you may be able to check-in anyway. (I checked-in about 20 minutes early without an issue). The only hiccup I had was that I got the wrong room key (my correct room number but for Park House). As it's hard to hear people with masks on, be sure to check the envelope containing your room key and bracelet before leaving the ResLife table (to avoid going around the CC for a second time like I had to). I think check-in will only get better and even going around twice was still very quick and easy. If you have concerns and would like to talk to me about them, feel free to send me an email or direct message me here on Discord. As for moving things into Parsons, it was exhausting as no one was allowed to help me. When you arrive at Parsons, someone (possibly me) should be there to greet you (and make sure you don't stay over an hour). (Some of you may also meet me in the CC as I will be helping distribute keys). See you soon! 

Friday @ 5:02

As for the quarantine location, I am currently quarantined in the Ellery Inn. The other location is the Fairfield Inn & Suites. You can get to either location by way of a free shuttle. (Your ticket is the bracelet you receive at check-in). Students sit far apart with masks, but I personally felt more comfortable having my dad drop me off at the hotel. It is also worth noting that both hotels are within walking distance. The bracelet is also important so that staff in the house know you are allowed to be there. (If you have approved guests (low-risk state), I think they also get bracelets). I haven't learned the whole color-coding system, but my bracelet is red and lists my Parsons and Ellery rooms. My quarantine room is actually really nice. I have a comfortable king-sized bed and my own bathroom. When you arrive you get a bag with a few snacks, water, activities from OSE, and general information (including the wifi password). I will keep you posted on the food situation as dinner is yet to arrive. I will momentarily post the menu that was in my welcome bag. Hopefully, these updates are somewhat helpful or interesting. Let me know if you have specific questions.  

Friday at 5:15

Still waiting on dinner (to be delivered before 7), but here are the aforementioned snacks.

Friday @ 5:34

Dinner! Will let you know how it is soon, but my roommate from last year has said "The chicken is very tender!". Basically what happens is the people delivering the food knock loudly on the door, announce "dinner" and leave paper bags outside your room. Breakfast for tomorrow was also delivered.

Friday @ 6:18

I was initially quite worried about the food situation (during quarantine) as I am a picky eater and didn't get to choose the meal. (It's all based on the food preference form). The first dinner was much better than I feared. The chicken had flavor, was tender, and was fully cooked. The greens were also tasty. The potatoes could have used some ketchup but were pretty good when eaten with the chicken. I don't really like beets, so I just ate a few to try them. They didn't have much flavor but were well cooked. As for the cookies, they had good flavor but were very hard. Overall, I was unnecessarily worried about the food situation but am definitely excited to get out of quarantine to pick my own food among other things.

Friday @ 6:26

Tomorrow's breakfast! Looks pretty good other than the fact I hate bananas. I am most excited about the vanilla soy milk. I just don't get why we get plastic bottled water at each meal.

Saturday @ 11:51

Lunch for day two in quarantine has arrived. Another gripe that I have is that we get a new full set of plastic silverware at each meal. It's the compostable kind, but I don't think it's going to be composted. So far quarantine is boring, but not that bad. There is a TV in the room with cable and Roku. Make sure you pack your quarantine bag carefully as you cannot leave your room until you get an official release email from ResLife. The rooms (at least mine) have a mini-fridge, so if you have food or medications that require refrigeration, not to worry. We got an email today saying that we will be released on Monday at the latest. I initially had the impression we'd get out on Sunday and yesterday it sounded like we may get out today. I am obviously hoping to get out sooner rather than later, but I'll just have to wait and see.

Saturday @ 5:57

Dinner day two. Even though I have been busy with a French essay, I am definitely getting restless here in quarantine.

Saturday @ 6:38

Yesterday's dinner was better than today's, but this one wasn't too bad. The tortillas were dry, so the meal was better and less messy without them. My main critique is that while the beef had good flavor, it was tough. I also think yesterday's greens were a little bit better. Here's what I got for tomorrow's breakfast. I am hoping to be released from quarantine tomorrow, but it could be as late as Monday. Quarantine releases are at noon or 4 pm.

Sunday @ 9:15

I passed my initial COVID screening! (Still waiting on my official release email from ResLife). Just for a reference point, I took my test a little before 2 pm on Friday and got the results email at around 11 last night. (Basically, you get an email letting you know that the lab results are available and are given a registration code to set up your account).

Sunday @ 11:45

Well, I am still in quarantine, but at least lunch has arrived. Noon is fast approaching, so I might not be getting released until 4.

Sunday @ 12:33

I finally received the official release email from ResLife!!! I can leave as soon as 1 pm and must be moved out by 4 pm. Like with arrival, there are shuttles every half hour. Starting tonight I will be ordering my food through the Grubhub app and picking it up myself. I also have another COVID test scheduled for tomorrow.

Sunday @ 1:17

I am officially back at Parsons! (I decided to walk instead of taking the shuttle). Feel free to continue asking questions, but I think this is the end of my arrival updates. See you soon!

Med Rewatch Series (#5)

S3 e3: Trust Your Gut. From what I remember this is a big one. I just remember this episode title honestly but we’ll see what happens.

-look at that! ava’s just casually in this scene, minding her own business, doing her job! you would never guess that this is a character who would later have a psychotic break and commit suicide.

-that’s really the point i’m trying to make. I hate all those posts where they’re like ‘i hated ava before, but season 4 has finally shown her true colors’ like not even?? no??? we’re trying to prove that that was never even a thing. i want to eliminate the possibility of s4 happening from your minds. nothing from s3 should ever be used as foreshadowing. that’s what the rewrite is about, ava being a good character. ava was never going to commit suicide. she was never gonna go psychotic. that should be ingrained in everyone’s minds.

-anyways, back to the episode.

-connor takes everything like a personal attack. relax

- i never realized how fun stoll was. like obviously not in the story but as a character he’s hilarious. unattached by everyone else’s drama

-awww. this maggie interaction is amazing. tapping sarah on the shoulder (neck actually but whatever) just to say hi. adorable. and sarah is already super jumpy. come on. her anxiety is already setting in. they really gave sarah two huge storylines in the same season.

-maggie... no one else would ever slash sarah’s tires. i mean honestly

-WHY DOES CONNOR HAVE TO CONTROL OF EVERYTHING - honestly ava was just reading off the chart and he can’t even let her do that he has to take over just to say the same things.

-and the way ava just takes it with her smug smile

-she is such a strong character there is no reason she would have gone crazy over connor she literally needs nothing from him.he has not ever had anything that she needed. 

- SHE’S JUST ROLLING HER EYES, SMIRKING, AND SHAKING HER HEAD AT THIS INSECURE MAN ava I love you.

-okay there’s no way i can explain it but after rolling her eyes at connor Ava turns and looks at the patient and instantly her face changes and you can see such pure concern in her eyes?? s4 ava could never (can someone please rb with a picture of what i’m talking about? it’s uncanny and so so sincere.)

- she’s in control of her emotions. she cares so much for her patients so don’t even try to play that card. the only thing connor has done literally since she got here is get in her way.

-AND CONNOR LOOKS AT HER WITH SUCH DISTRUST AND CONTEMPT. TELL ME HOW. this is insane. exasperating.

-and the way she smiles and comforts the patient. i mean come on. she’s just so amazing. AND COMFORTING. if ava really was as heartless as people say, she wouldn’t take the effort to do that. connor didn’t even do that, he just scowls at ava.

-which just proves my point, ava is only ever mean to people who she thinks deserve it. and, the more that I think about it, she’s never really actually mean. sure, she’s blunt and rude, but never cutting. she’s nice to her patients (and I know what you’re going to say, it’s not because she has to be. she’s a doctor, she still wants to help people). but when her patients are dicks, she’s not nice to them. she’s as snarky with as she’s professionally allowed to be.

-like, take this guy. he seems nice enough. he’s funny, polite, comes across charming, so ava is nice and is polite back to him.

-let’s move on.

-why is connor always so suspicious of ava. come on. he’s the one who should be sus. she literally said ‘Don’t worry, Ray, we’ll take good care of you’ and he’s giving her this weird side eye.

-ethan and will being in this board meeting is really adorable to me. like, just, bros.

-oh godddd sarah please relax. sweetie. please.

-sarah fucking tranqed him oh my god

-oh my god noah asking people for help literally shut the fuck up

-straight people are gross. not to hate but how does anyone sit through manstead

-connor literally needs to chill. I know this bit (they’re arguing over menial things in surgery) plays more to them just picking on each other, pulling each other’s pigtails on the playground if you will (i didn’t like that analogy but I used it anyway), but if you look at it, ava was only trying to help connor (suggesting a wider possible target and an easier to handle stitch) and connor took it wayyy to personally. sure the second bit of advise is just poking at him, but she suggested a better spot on the base and he shut her down without any thought.

-and then latham points out that there is no point in arguing, to which ava defers, then connor snidely says ‘Thank you, Doctor, Now, how about from here on out we keep the background noise to a minimum’ and ava just shakes her head, scoffing.

-at this point ava just likes annoying connor because its fun. it’s entertaining. he gets so upset. everyone’s done that, just be annoying for fun (its bad to say but i mean come on everyones done it)

-another point, ava immediately deferring to latham might read to some as her being a suck up but that’s not what it is.

-ava really likes seeing how close to the line she can get. she goes right up to it, but she never crosses it. the same is true with her interactions with other people outside of surgery.

-I really like this story of the girl who passed out and hit her head, and her brother’s a wreck, and her parents obviously think the brother’s a disappointment. and it was finals week so of course she wasn’t taking care of herself. and the brother knew that, and you can tell he cares so much and feels so bad. it’s nice

-complication on the surgery they were working on. ava comes in with a solution (off of connor’s mistake during surgery after not following her advice) but I have a sneaking suspicion that by the end connor will be back on top

-the effort it took connor to say ‘it’s a good idea’ come on man just fucking let it go

-i’m glad we’ve all agreed that connor’s just a dick

-aw look at that she even held the door for him. connor would never

-i don’t want to overly push the ‘med is sexist’ thing but how is it that in a storyline between nat and ethan, characters who have never been romantically involved, they still pull the woman thinks one thing, man refuses to believe it and is right dynamic. i mean come on med seriously. what the fuck is wrong with you.

-the look of annoyance and disbelief on ava’s face that connor hadn’t actually messed up. comedic, but also i get your pain.

-glad that latham sides with ava, ava advocating for a riskier procedure so they could ensure the blockage is removed)

-(something could be said about ava’s high-risk, high-reward ideals. you could even draw the parallel to events in s4 and s5, even though I really don’t want to. it’s an interesting and notable character trait to say the least)

-YOOOO I FORGOT HOW METAL THE PSYCH STORY GETS

-dude straight up cuts his abdomen open and his intestines spill out

-the fear and shock and emotion on sarah’s face make me feel so bad for her

-WAIT IS THIS THE EPISODE WHERE SHE LOSES THE END OF THE INSTRUMENT? IS THAT WHAT THIS IS? i am not prepared to watch an ava bekker breakdown rn.

-the shock on ava’s face when connor said nice job.

-ava actually tried to apologize to connor. well, not apologize but she feels a little bit bad for just how abrasive she’s been to connor. (connor didn’t necessarily have to make it super competitive). Ava said “Look, I know i have the tendency to step on toes. it’s nothing personal”

-and now they’re not arguing and are this close to actually working like a team

-and i cannot believe connor’s big one-liner is ‘Murphy’s law’

-the emotion on april’s face when the girl’s parents won’t even let her brother grieve for her. I feel it. astounding. its so painful omg

-ava: “your optimism is enchanting.” when i was writing earlier I was worried I wasn’t being accurate with her dialogue and making it sound too overly formal but i guess I nailed it. also, this line reinforces how much I love her (so does every other line)

-connor just refusing to give ava anything, no credit, no nothing. doesn’t even give her credit for earning the surgery saying “you may have elbowed your way onto the case, but he is still my patient” (I JUST TRANSITIONED INTO A QUOTE SO SMOOTHLY WHY CANT I DO THAT IN MY LANG RHETORICAL ANALYSIS ESSAYS YOU’RE KIDDING)

-hey it’s joey!

- i can appreciate him so much more when he’s not chasing after reese

-do you remember their first meeting? bickering over who gets the last splenda? (real meet cute amirite)

-dr. charles remarking how all the scientific advances can’t beat human instinct, nice little tie in to the episode title

-ava just smiling while connor waits for her to apologize. she. takes. no. shit.

-i literally hate connor’s face so much. it fucking looks predatory like stop looking at her like that. it’s almost like you were planning her psychotic break

-ava’s cunning, saying ‘we’ instead of ‘i’ when talking about the decisions being made. she’s smart. she knows what to do. She knows how to present herself. (and yeah, a little hypocritical that she said to connor ‘when you fail, I will make sure that it is noted that it was your fault and not mine,’ but like I said, she just knows how to present herself)

-latham: “Dr. Bekker seems to enjoy this discordance.”

-rhodes’ face when changing his mind and saying ‘maybe I do’ when asked if he enjoyed it too - he literally makes the dumbest faces. please. stop. (is it a straight people thing?)

Alright. Another episode down. 17 to go. This was actually a pretty good episode all around. Ava took none of connor’s shit and you’d have to squint to find any sort of romantic subtext in their interactions, which is huge win in my book. reese’s storyline wasn’t too bad, she didn’t go through too much trauma, which, the bar for watching med is incredibly low i guess. This was a really good episode for ava. like I said before, very little romantic subtext, and she had a redeeming quality in the way she obviously cared for her patient at the beginning of the episode.

The main point is something I’ve been reiterating again and again. Ava cares about her patients. Ava is mean to connor because she knows someone needs to put him in his place, and she is glad that it is her.

All in all, this was a pretty good Ava episode. Very happy.

thanks for sticking with it.

-

read the rest here:

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Extra

Under Pressure, Chapter 7

Word Count: 2,015

Rating: M/E

Link to previous chapter: https://fictional-affliction.tumblr.com/post/187929692300/under-pressure-chapter-6

The dam had broken and Duncan and Courtney couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. For the past week, any time they could get alone was spent kissing which turned into touching which turned into sex. They couldn’t get enough of each other, which is how they found themselves in a school stairwell with Courtney’s back up against a wall.

“I can only be gone one more minute before it looks suspicious.” Courtney warned, out of breath from their make out session. She left English class under the guise of needing to use the bathroom. That alone was suspicious because she never left in the middle of a class, but Duncan had texted her wanting to meet up and she couldn’t say no. She hadn’t seen him since last night which felt entirely too long.

“We can do a lot in two minutes.” Duncan slipped his hands down her  back and squeezed her cheeks. Courtney tangled her hands in his hair and hitched a leg around his waist.

Sneaking around was easily the most fun she’d ever had. It wasn’t that they weren’t going to tell their friends and family eventually, they just wanted to keep it between themselves for now and away from prying eyes. Besides, the secrecy and danger of being caught was hot.

“Okay times up!” Courtney playfully pushed on his chest not really bothered that he didn’t move.

“Nope.” Duncan refused and kept kissing her. She was trapped between him and the wall and was too giddy from his kisses to make a better argument.

“Dunkyyyyy.” She drew out and pouted.

“You’re lucky you’re so damn cute.” He backed away but still loosely held his arms around her.

“Come over tonight?” As Courtney disengaged she kissed him on the cheek. He gave her a look that said that he obviously was going to sneak into her room like he did almost every night.

“Go back to class nerd.” She backed away with her tongue stuck out at him until he was no longer in sight.

Courtney was practically skipping down the hallway with how happy she was. She forced herself to slow down to a normal walk when she got back to English class. No one is that happy after using the bathroom.

Everyone was journaling independently when she returned which made it easy not to draw attention, but her professor stopped her before she made it back to her desk.

“See me after class.” Mrs. Smith told her ominously. The older woman didn’t give away any clue about what the reason could be. Usually when Courtney was asked to be seen after class it was for praise, or to see if she was interested in an essay writing competition. Her foot shook as she counted down the minutes until the bell rang and tried to convince herself that everything was fine.

A feeling a dread washed over her as she gathered her things and stood next to Mrs. Smith’s desk.

“You wanted to see me?” Courtney asked politely with all the optimism she could muster. The professor didn’t look up and flipped through her test booklets until she found Courtney’s. She flipped open the cover to reveal the number sixty-eight in the teachers handwriting. Courtney’s heart stopped.

“This is the grade that I should give you.” Mrs. Smith said sternly with disappointment, while pointing at the shameful mark. Then she closed the booklet and handed it to her.

“But seeing as you are one of my best students and it is out of character for you to  perform this poorly, I will let you rewrite the essay.” Courtney began to breathe again.

“I’m so sorry I let you down, thank you so much for the opportunity, I don’t know what went wrong-” She rambled on.

“The highest grade that I can give you is a B. It’s not fair to other students to give you a second chance.” Courtney nodded solemnly, accepting the stipulation. It was better than nothing. “Have it back to me by tomorrow morning.”

“I will, thank you, again.”

---

The work began to pile on after that and by the time she made it to last period Courtney had calculus, chemistry, and history homework to do tonight; in addition to her essay rewrite.

She was so on edge. Courtney spent her lunch period in the library to get a jump start on her homework and worked diligently, while ignoring an urge that had started building as soon as she had gotten her essay grade. Usually she could hold off at least until she got home to punish herself, but the urge kept nagging at her.

“Are you okay?” Courtney shook herself from her thoughts and turned to Trent. It was her last class of the day, orchestra, the class that she always looked forward to but now was too distracted to enjoy it.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Courtney insisted, pushing away his concern. She loosened her grip on the violin string she had been tightening and gave him her full attention. “What were you saying?”

“The campaign? You still want to run together as President and VP, right?” Trent asked. Shit, how could she completely forget that it was time to run again? The thought of all the posters, pins, and the speech she had to work on, crashed down on her. She faked a smile.

“Of course! I’ll send you some ideas later.” Trent have her a strange look. “You better get to band before class starts!” She said in a too chipper voice.

The band and orchestra rooms were next to each other so Trent would pop over sometimes to talk. From the look on his face he didn’t buy her brushing him off.  

“You know if you ever need anything-”

“Got it!” She cut him off. He sighed, knowing that there was something she wasn’t telling him, but left for his class.

“Let’s go from the top of the new piece.” Courtney’s orchestra teacher instructed and they readied their instruments. Courtney placed her bow against the strings. When in doubt, her violin was her saving grace. Music was something that came so naturally to her, and she could get lost in playing. This is what she needed.

Halfway through the piece she still had yet to relax. The tension in her neck traveled to her shoulders, down her arms and to her hands. She closed her eyes since she already knew the notes, and tried to breathe evenly. Her brows furrowed when she kept failing to get control of herself, unconsciously pushing harder and harder on the violin’s strings. Just as her frustration hit its peak one of her violin strings snapped and hit her across her cheek.

The orchestra teacher stopped conducting, causing a discordant sound before the instruments stopped playing.

“Sorry, I think I tuned it too tightly.” Courtney admitted, slightly embarrassed. It had been a long time since she had a string break.  She took such pride in keeping her violin in tip top condition.

“Courtney are you all right?” Her teacher looked on with concern for his first chair violinist.

“I’m fine, I have an extra string in my case.”

“You’re bleeding.” Courtney raised her hand to her face and when she pulled it back there was red smeared on her fingers.

“Please go to the nurse and have it looked at.” Begrudgingly Courtney left the classroom but didn’t turn down the correct hallway that lead to the nurse’s office. Instead she entered a bathroom to assess the damage herself.

Her reflection wasn’t much different than normal, sans a thin slice that indicated had it been an inch higher, the string would have hit her in the eye. Courtney wet a paper towel to clean away the blood and dapped at the cut.

She flinched at the sting of an open wound, but held up the compress again.

Slowly she pressed against the cut once more, and added more pressure. Her teeth grit at the pain but she didn’t let up. When she couldn’t take it anymore she pulled away and caught her breath. As she inspected the cut in the mirror again, a sense of relief washed over her. The release the pain gave was almost euphoric. The urge that had been nagging her all day, satiated.

---

Duncan shifted and pulled a notebook from under his back where it was digging in, then shifted again to push away the markers that were on Courtney’s bed.

“Campaign ideas.” Courtney explained while pulling down his pants. She worked non stop since she got home from school and when Duncan showed up around ten o’clock she was begging for a break and to blow off steam.

“How are you gonna convince me to vote for you?” Duncan dropped smug grin as Courtney’s mouth hovered over his hard cock.

“I have some really persuasive tactics...” her breath teased him  “and I think you’ll like my approach to handling hard topics.” She held her position, her mouth barely touching the tip.

“You’ve got my vote.” Courtney smiled seductively and gave him the relief he was aching for.

Later, Duncan had his arms around her back as she straddled his hips as they basked in the afterglow. Courtney being on top was proving to be one of Duncan’s favorite positions. She was so sexy when she took control and he loved being able to have his hands free to roam over her body and take in how gorgeous she was.

“I have to work on my essay, but you can sleepover...” Courtney kissed his forehead.

“Stay with me.

“I can’t.” She grumbled and rolled off of him before she changed her mind. She put on his discarded shirt.

“You look good in my clothes.” This part of their relationship was still new, so when Duncan said things like that to her she had to kiss him for being sweet.

“I think so too.”

--- The light tap on her door startled Courtney. She was putting the final touches on her essay and was completely in the zone that she jumped at the noise. At first she panicked because she thought maybe one of her parents had come to check on her. She would be in an unfathomable amount of trouble. Not only was she up at two am on a school night, but a very naked Duncan was asleep in her bed. They weren’t exactly his biggest fans.

Instant relief washed over her when the tapping started again and she realized it was coming from the door to the conjoining bathroom. Courtney crossed the distance and opened the door just a crack.

“What are you doing awake?” She was more harsh with Cate than necessary, but the lack of sleep was weighing on her.

“I saw the light on under your door...besides, you guys aren’t as quiet as you think you are.” Courtney’s eyes widened at Cate and she tried to recover quickly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Cate didn’t buy it and pushed the door open wider to reveal Duncan asleep in Courtney’s bed, the sheets arranged on his waist to hide anything explicit.

“Mom and Dad would kill you if they knew he was here.”

“They aren’t going to find out.” Courtney threatened and stared her down. Cate sighed and crossed her arms.

“I’m not going to tell them.”

“Great. Now go to bed.” Courtney started to close the door.

“Wait-”

“What?” Courtney hissed. Cate face started to break into a grin.

“Duncan and Courtney sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-” Courtney closed the door in her face, promptly cutting her off, and locked it.

Feeling that her essay was sufficient, she printed it off, her eyeballs burning. Then she climbed in bed on top of Duncan and snuggled into his chest. He always cuddled back into her instantaneously, surrounding her in his embrace.

As Courtney drifted off to sleep she planned out the rest of her week. She could do this, she could balance it all. She might never sleep again though.

Carlotta’s Lament / Tool Scene

JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure fanfiction: OC/fankids focused

Words: 1,481

Read on the Ao3 here

Carlotta Brando sees herself as a tool to be used, and assumes Kokoro Kujo sees her the same way. She couldn't be more wrong, though.

---

This is a scene from my fanchild fanpart for JoJo, called "Heartbreak Hotel Heartbreakers." As I'm notorious for never finishing things, I'm writing out scenes from my fanparts so you guys can read them in case they never get written. For more updates on these characters and more, you can find their works here:

My Writeblr -- Fankids Ask Blog -- Fankids Discord (open to anyone, I'm not the only one who posts content there)

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Carlotta’s Lament / Tool Scene

"Carlotta -- hey, Carla, slow the hell down!"

Kokoro's voice is uncharacteristically loud and somewhat emotional as she chases down her wayward cousin. The blonde stalked off after managing to defeat Hephaestus, a stormy expression on her face and sour parting words hanging in the air:

"I'll be making my own way from here on out."

Kokoro knows it's an illogical decision. The Artemis House is far from defeated, and if Carlotta goes off on her own, she'll most certainly be killed by them. It's what she's been trying to avoid...

So why is she moving faster while Kokoro tries to catch up?

Catching the other girl on the shoulder with her hand, Kokoro whirls her around to face her. Her expression is still stormy, but now there's an undeniable pain on her face as well and in her eyes.

"What's wrong with you?" Kokoro says quickly. "You know going off on your own puts us all in danger, right? Not just you? Making impulsive decisions will drag this whole team down --"

"It's always like this," Carlotta murmurs. Her voice may be quiet, but she absolutely sounds hurt. "I'm always -- always -- doin' shit for other people. Been that way since I was a kid." She bites her lip. Kokoro decides to keep her mouth shut for now, instead watching and listening while Carlotta continues. "Now, nobody asked me t' do that, t' be fair. I took up the mantle on my own, of my own free will. I'm always shoulderin' my own shit to deal with other people's. For their good, instead of mine. Y'know why I do that, Miss Psychologist?" Carlotta jabs a finger into Kokoro's chest, but the red-head doesn't respond.

"Not even gonna guess? Damn, yer borin' as always." Carlotta turns her head to the side and spits, then looks back at Kokoro, in the eyes. Kokoro's uncomfortable with the direct eye contact, but maintains it. "Well, fine. I'll take the fun outta it n' just tell ya: it's cause I think that, mebbe, if I keep helpin' people, even when they don't like me? Maybe they'll start t' like me."

A period of silence stretches between the two, and Carlotta snorts, removes her finger from Kokoro's chest and lets her hand fall back to her side. "I mean, I get it. I get this whole Artemis House deal, I get why people don't trust me or anybody else with th' name "Brando." My Pops did some bad shit back in th' day. I mean... how many folks d'you know who had their brother's body copied t' use as a backup in case somethin' happened to theirs?" She chuckles bitterly, but there's absolutely no happiness behind it. "Course, Uncle Jonathan forgave 'im for that, 'cause he's got a soft heart, y'know? Like me." She curls her hand into a fist over her chest, her fangs sinking deeper into her lower lip. Kokoro can tell that she's drawn blood, but she keeps speaking anyway.

"But the damage 's done. Nobody trusts me when I say I'm not a bad person. So I got to thinkin'... mebbe, if I just... stopped worryin' 'bout myself, how I felt, n' just let myself be a tool for others to use... mebbe I could fix us. Mebbe I could fix my family." Carlotta sniffs, her blue eyes shimmering with tears now as she rubs furiously at her face.

She may be eighteen, and legally an adult, but in reality, she's still just a child. A child with a burden far too heavy to bear on her own.

"Mebbe I could rewrite the Brando story, y'know? So that -- so that we ain't always just moochers on th' Joestar line." She sighs, looks down at her feet and kicks half-heartedly at a rock lying next to her foot. "But that was naive, n' stupid. We ain't never gonna be nothin' but a footnote in somebody else's story at best. At worst... we're the villains." She swallows, wipes away some of the blood trailing down her chin from where she split her lip earlier with her fangs.

"Pa n' Pops always wanted better fer us than what they got in life. 's why I never... told 'em about any o' this. Thinkin' about how Pops'd feel if I told 'im I was depressed after everythin' he's done for me? 's too much. 'sides, he don't need to worry 'bout me when we've got all the little ones, already." Carlotta wraps her arms around herself. She's long since looked away from Kokoro, instead turning her focus towards the ground as she shuffles her feet.

"Don'tcha get it, Kokoro? I'm -- I'm a fake. A fuckin' fake. Everythin' I've ever done is for somebody else, to make somebody else happy, so somebody else'll like me, or at the least, y'know, find some kinda use for me. My Pops used other folks as tools for his own gain..."

And here, Carlotta's hands curl into fists at her sides as her shoulders tremble with the weight of the world; she's become her own Atlas.

"... so I became everyone else's tool t' fix it. But even then -- even then, I couldn't win ya' over. An' not the Avdols either -- sure, J.P loves me, n' I'd die for him like I'd die for August or Teddy, or any of the others, but he's his own brand o' crazy. The others ain't gonna trust me. Even if I did die for 'im, I doubt they'd care enough to leave flowers at my grave. Yer different, though, Koku-chan. I think..." She furrows her brow and sniffs as tears roll down her cheeks. "... I think I wanted t' be friends with ya' so bad 'cause I wanted t' prove we -- the Brandos n' Joestars -- ain't gotta fight all the time. We can be friends, y'know?"

She starts to cry harder now, hiccupping sobs breaking through her words here and there. "But -- but I was -- I was wrong, again. Like a dumb lil' kid, I -- just don't learn my fuckin' lesson. It's my fault. I'm -- I'm not th' cousin ya' deserve, or th' friend ya' deserve either. I'm not good enough for nobody."

She ends her final word with a choked little whimper, curling in on herself before sitting down on the forest floor. Without thinking, Kokoro kneels down in front of her and puts her arms around her cousin, pulling her head in close to rest on her chest -- cheek pressed just above her heart -- just as her father Noriaki had done so many times when she would get overstimulated and panicked as a young child, so she could hear her heartbeat.

"You're wrong, Carla," Kokoro finally murmurs. Carlotta stops crying for a moment, curls her hands into the fabric of Kokoro's coat and goes still against her chest. "I don't hate you. I never have. I kept pushing you away because I figured you would be better off without me. I'm... not very good with showing emotions. I do a better job at analyzing other people's emotions and feelings, and talking them through it. Until you came looking for me, no one had ever tried to be my friend before, besides Axel." Kokoro sighs heavily, rests her cheek against the top of Carlotta's head as a few wet drops fall from her own eyes onto her hair. "I didn't know what to do. I'm sorry that I hurt you. But I don't -- I don't hate you. Not for anything you did, and not for anything your father did. That doesn't concern me -- or either of us -- anyway."

She squeezes Carlotta tight, presses a platonic kiss to her scalp. "Just promise me you'll do your best to live for yourself, and stay alive for yourself, and nobody else? You're not a tool to be used. You've got a path all of your own that's just as important as anyone else's. That's why I agreed to help you with Artemis House, anyway. I did it for you, and your family, not because I wanted anything out of any of you. I just believe living things have the right to live. Even if they are smelly vampires."

Carlotta snorts out a little laugh, pulls her head away from Kokoro's chest to look her in the eyes. She slides her glasses off, and Kokoro removes her shades for a moment, and they both rub at their eyes at the same time before putting their eyewear back on in tandem.

"We're gonna fight this battle together. As friends and equals. Got it?" Kokoro says, extending a hand to Carlotta for her to shake.

Carlotta gives a wry grin, takes Kokoro's hand in hers and shakes it. "Yeah. Got it. Thanks Koku-chan."

They return back to the others, hand-in-hand as cousins, not knowing just how important their bond is for the future of the Joestar family line and for each other.

100(ISH) WORDS A DAY CHALLENGE: NOVEMBER 2019 — DAY ELEVEN TO TWENTY-FOUR: WHISPER, BITTERSWEET.

rating: explicit. | categories: smut, modern au. | pairing: solavellan. | content warnings: mentions of alcohol. | word count: 2.2k.

previous days: day one. | day two. | day three. | day four. | day five. | day six. | day seven. | day eight. | day nine. | day ten.

author’s notes: idk what i’m doing. is that new tho? this wasn’t supposed to be uhhhh this long or take up two weeks afashfgsas oh well. i may actually end up using this an outline and turn it into a three chapter fic somewhere down the line, with more detail. i have Ideas.

                                                                              The main venue for tonight’s date is provided courtesy of Josephine.

Spare tickets for a new musical at one of Grande Royeaux’s theatres were given to her by an acquaintance hoping for good graces, and, as she had prior engagements, she passed them to Eludysia to do with as she pleases. It’s another modern retelling of Andraste’s rebellion against Tevinter, focused on her early life and the beginnings of the war she fought. The mythos is thoroughly known throughout Thedas of course. A centerpiece of faith and nations, it’s the subject of innumerable non-fiction and fictionalised works of controversy, so Eludysia had little inclination in carving out time to see it. But it has been weeks since she and Solas last had a night out together, and critics and audiences have raised this one to acclaim; thus, she has persuaded him and they are meeting tonight.

She wears a dress that flows to floor-length, with an asymmetrical neckline and a slit along her left leg, the shade of myrtle leaves. Her hair is bound into a simple side-braid, her makeup done with a subtle hand. Her heels and matching clutch-purse are an off-white colour. The overall effect is one that satisfies—and, she anticipates, is prepared well for the evening.

The show is at eight. In midnight black suit and tie, he picks her up at exactly six. It gives them enough time to have dinner and conversation at a restaurant nearby the theatre. They talk about the usual things: the current affairs of the city, her cases and their successes, his classes and the books he’s read, the new discoveries of the lost Elvhen empire. He tells her she looks beautiful. She jokes that he should wear a suit more often. His hand brushes her palm and she holds it. Their reconnection is natural. Smooth as the dark red wine which fills their glasses and they raise a toast to.

They arrive at the theatre on time to be seated. An usher escorts them to a private box for two, at the side of the stage. Soon, the seats below them are filled, to the very last one. And then the lights fade out. Applause follows. The play begins.

For the next half hour, they relive the times of old through the music of their own day. The tragedy of the story should be dissonant with the vibrancy of the beat, but the presented narrative is instead enriched. It’s something to be appreciated.

By Eludysia’s asking, Solas gives commentary on the historical inaccuracies and creative liberties taken. She’d be lying if she said she doesn’t prefer the deep baritone of his voice to the cast’s, talented though they are. In exchange, he asks for her thoughts. Their seats are side by side, close enough they are still be audible to each other over the orchestra. It’s close enough for their knees to touch, and for their hands to find each other’s after each applause break.

After half an hour, Solas’ hand doesn’t return to Eludysia’s. It drifts.

At first, his placement of it is innocuous—right above where her knee meets his. But then, his fingers trail a line. His touch whisper light, they wander up and up, across the skin bared by the opening of her dress’ slit, up toward her thigh. And he shifts the fabric.

Her breath hitches, of its own accord.

Solas hasn’t even begun.

She glances from the stage—where Andraste’s actress is delivering a conflicted soliloquy on her marriage to Maferath—to where his fingertips trace the curve of her thigh, back and forth. As if awaiting a decision. “Solas… What are you doing?” She asks, like she is unaware of his intent. Like she has to read his expression to glean it.

“I’m observing the show, vhenan,” he says, as if it’s obvious. He toys with her hem, but tenderness rests on his features. “Is there a problem?”

He’s offering an out. Affirming what she wants. One word from her, and he would stop. He wouldn’t question her. If she expressed any discomfort, he would let her push him away to undo it. The night could pass by without incident, and he’d bring her back to her apartment.

His concern cuts at her heart. She loves him. She does.

But the desire for this is mutual. She craves for it as much as he. So, “not at all,” she says, with a sweetened smile.

A smirk lurks at the corner of Solas’ mouth. His ivory hand dips beneath green.

He has knowledge on just how to unravel her seams, in both contexts of speech and touch. That may be the most dangerous part. She adjusts herself to help him push aside the fabric of her underwear, and his fingers are expert; he skims her inner thigh, teases at her folds, strokes slow circles around her clit, effortless. He does it all without looking directly at her, his attention still seemingly on the reenactment of the politics of the Alamarri border to an outsider’s eye. But while she tries to steady her gaze on the same, she grows wet and wanting. Her posture slackens to allow him better access. He slides a finger inside her, two, and she has to bite her lower lip to cage her gasps and moans as her hips seek and seek more and more of him.

He summons a tension Eludysia is driven to chase. She bucks forward, and he evades. She quickens her pace, and he delays his. The discordance of their rhythm is deliberate. It turns her frustrated and impelled to grasp for the cuff of his sleeve to synchronise their movements.

It’s a mistake. He withdraws.

She has to clamp her hand over mouth, muffling a scream of his name.

Distantly, as her head rests on the seat, she realises he’s remarking on the musical.

“…how vital Shartan’s role was in the rebellion. It is refreshing to see it recognised,” breaks through the drumming of the music—through her wild, erratic pulse—Solas’ tone somehow casually academic. He looks at her, wearing a spurious innocence, expectant. “Don’t you think so?”

Breathless, she laughs.

“I think…” What does she think? The only roles she cares about now are the ones she and Solas play. She is feverish, restless. The set of the theatre is reduced to a two-dimensional backdrop, fallen away and out of focus. The script’s pages are lost. She resolves to rewrite. “I think you’re enjoying this too much.”

Solas follows. “I always enjoy giving you what you want, vhenan,” he says, placing a soft kiss behind her ear. “In due time.”

He returns a long, slender finger to hover and drag along her sex. She writhes. The high ceiling is less dizzying to stare at than the stage lights and her mind.

For a fraction of a second, Eludysia weighs a plea on her tongue. Solas might relent. It’d be easy and she’d be satiated. But it occurs to her that if he keeps her on a precipice, there is a chance he will not. And she is rarely one who begs for leniency. If it’s a struggle he hopes for, it’s a struggle he will get. “How long?” she asks, for she has knowledge on Solas too.

He chuckles, shakes his head at her. Rubs patterns on her thigh to soothe. “Be patient.”

“No, no, I meant—” She wets her lips and considers him, and her laugh is of daring impulse. “—how long, do you suppose, until I can touch you the way you’re touching me now?” She ventures and leans toward him, cloying, promising. “How long until your cock will be stroked by my hands, my—”

His thumb presses her clit. Her legs squeeze and her hand flies to her mouth.

“Lest you forget,” Solas warns, the storm-grey of his eyes darkening. He parts her legs; fully revealing the left and more. The way her skirt drapes over her now is almost precarious. “I still have an advantage.”

A whimper escapes her, unhidden. She grips at the edge of her seat to rein herself. “You said you enjoy giving me what I want.”

“Unless what you want is to incite me any more than you have. That will not end well.”

She doesn’t give up. “Why? Will you bend me over and fuck me—”

“Eludysia!”

The thrust of his fingers is as sudden as his hiss. Thought is abandoned and she jolts and buries her face into his shoulder. He moves faster and deeper this time, a furor, that spurs her on and on and on until she is trembling around and beside him, smothering her keens and sobs as pressure builds, pushes her to the edge. She maintains her grip on the seat, knuckles whitening. Her hips press against him, her legs squeeze to snatch him there. Her insides are molten and the sought for high nears—

And Solas retreats again.

Strings of Elven curses tumble from her lips onto his sleeve.

Regretful, Solas calms her. His breathing is irregular, as is hers. The hand working her goes back to gently caressing her thigh, the other cradles the back of her head. He kisses the top of her hair, mumbling an apology, and ascertains if she’s all right. She collects what she has of her strength to nod and articulate an apology as well, in spite of her wound up state, and encircles his arm with hers to reassure.

There’s a sliver of Eludysia still conscious of their surroundings, the possible consequences of their actions; muted in the obscene but present. Applause is heard, a break before the next song. What would happen, if someone were to sight how she and Solas hold each other? She is ragged, covered in a sheen of sweat and her skirt askew. He is stiff and strained, fingers glistening from her slick. The balcony’s marble enclosure hides their misdemeanor, but not their unbelonging embrace.

She draws back, glances at the silhouette of the audience, then at him. “Aren’t you afraid of getting caught?” It’s a genuine question, apart from tricks and tactics. Absurdity underlines their situation like crimson ink. A portrayal of a battleground is just downstairs, and here they are, irreverent, above, with one of their own. All it would take is a slip of her voice, or for someone to look up, or for intermission to arrive. And yet, they go on.

“I calculate my risks,” Solas says, pausing his ministrations to pull at her skirt’s fabric so she is less exposed. He regards her appearance, her visage. “Not unlike you.”

Eludysia can’t help but smirk. “Referring to the dress, or?”

“You had your suspicions on how I’d respond if you chose it, didn’t you?” he sighs and stills, the statement coarsened. “Like you how you had suspicions on how I’d attempt to silence you if you stirred my fantasies.”

“Well,” she says, eyes bright as the purest emeralds, “I enjoy giving you what you like, too.”

“The games we play should frighten us,” he observes, his mouth forming a grim line.

“They would—if we weren’t aware of what we were getting ourselves into.”

“We aren’t always.”

“We’ll work on that,” she promises, and tugs on his arm. Her body is still as sensitive as a livewire, but her words are tender. Earnest.

Solas hums, and he allows himself a smile and the approval. The hand in Eludysia’s hair moves to tip her chin up, closer. “Perhaps you’ll stay quiet, then?”

It’s her turn, now, to shake her head at him. “One day, ma’lath,” she says, with a lilting affection, “you will tire of your need for restraint.”

“Ma vhenan,” he chokes, the endearment a bittersweet sound. Behind his lust, his delectation, his solicitude, is an unnameable despair. He sets it before her and indulges, “that day came when I fell in love with you.”

And so he kisses her roughly. A lash of hunger upon her, his mouth and nipping teeth inflict silken heat, his fingers finding her sex to delve in once more, so she gasps and his tongue can steal its way to entangle with hers. He conducts a new, headier rhythm, strikes in and out in concert with her need, how her hips rise and buck and pursue. He takes her moans, he takes her breath. Her nerves sing, burn, pulse. She becomes lightheaded and begins to seize as he finally, finally delivers unto her a delirium. She pushes away for air, but he keeps a vice-like grasp by the nape of her neck so their lips and her cresting cry remain sealed and secret.

There is a beautiful irony in the paradoxical act; what is meant to restrain is itself a surrender. What should conflict is inseparable. Where does one end and the other emerge?

As Solas releases Eludysia and rights her, she lets her head lay on his shoulder. He doesn’t protest. Oxygen floods her lungs, and in the equilibrium of weightlessness and the sense of gravity, a line from the Chant of Light rings crystalline: —a vision of all worlds, waking and slumbering / spirit and mortal to me appeared.

They don’t wait for intermission. He takes her home. Her dress is ripped, discarded on his bedroom floor with the rest of their clothes. She makes good on her word, strokes him with her hands, her mouth. He then has his way with her; marks her skin like she could eternally be his own. Like they’ll be all right. And together, they relish in their sounds and avowals of love saturating the room through and through.

He doesn’t know Eludysia wakes in the middle of the night to wonder at the profoundness of him and his confession, as she’d done months ago when he came to her door.

RQG 124

And he is doing the thing where he says the number digit by digit again. No idea why I always notice it so much. *deletes yet another essay about the intros" okay I am officially stalling because I am worried Hamid is banking on magic behaving without enough evidence and may have blown up both Grizzop and Eldarian. PS.  Either all it takes to get me to care enough about a character to worry is put them in danger while out of their element or Alex is even subtler than I thought. How am I concerned for a character who knew she was probably going to Rome and wore heels? Is Bryn deliberately bad at defending himself from accusations of setting everyone on fire? Lydia makes it canon that Rome weirdness is to blame for any timeline problems Nice fireball Hot Dog!?! Lydia and Alex are threatening each other and us with backstory The dice love us? Alex you can kill them all or have all your lovely monsters creamed, they don't really have middle modes So the kid rang the dinner bell for every nasty on the plane? Hugs for Hamid and Grizzop Hamid might be insecure at times but Bryn makes sure he gets credit for his magic at least OK it was temporary, already back to not trusting Eldarian even if I was worried Sasha is indifferent to her at best So maybe not deliberate malice but not a warm parental figure The team is stepping up well Yeah well we don't trust you either "I was in the papers and you couldn't find me?" good whatever their relationship was, Sasha is not falling into her old role. Too many people mistake not arguing with someone as agreeing with their version of events, and I don't want the team buddying up to Eldarian just because Sasha didn't think there was a point in arguing. God I LOVE this team, they aren't antagonizing her exactly but they are backing Sasha She "created it for herself"!! In what possible way? "You don't get to talk to me like that anymore!" hell no she doesn't Nice the ranks just closed against Eldarian "You need to Back Off!" "the bit where I was going to shoot you? I'm going back to that bit so can you be helpful or do you want to leave?" Oh Sasha, you can hear how unused to standing up for herself she is Oh Helen may have found a loophole for Azu They know each other? Mom way? For certain values of mom that normally scare the white picket fence kids maybe Yeah either she changes or I am never typing her name on discord, because I would literally have an easier time with the Bertie fans than who ever it was who was talking about liking her. My issues are showing so I'm just going to try avoid remembering who it was; before I end up getting weird and tetchy with someone whose only crime is an opinion on a fictional character. Not their fault "we'll talk about this later" being her catch phrase raises 6 kinds of alarms for me Hamid is not confident but doing a great job of standing on the line between getting the help they need, not tipping his hand about his attitude towards her and not giving her the least chance to screw them over. Gah I should probably have an actual conversation with my therapist about how Salah Sr hit me vs how I am seeing red flags that may or may not be there with Eldarian but as long as the team doesn't back her am mostly fine. Probably TMI but that was mostly a round about way of saying you guys probably picked up on my issues during Cairo and I didn't want you to worry about me now.   While we're on my hang ups are my ears behaving for once or did they tweak Ben's mic? Because I am not having to spend any effort to process tonight and he is normally right in my gap Grizzop is a good Bless Sasha, I love her explanation Did Grizzop just offer to kill Eldarian? Oh Sasha backstory, slightly confusing since I think she doesn't know many of the details and motivations. Did that sweet little goblin of my heart just upgrade that offer to "can I kill her? " And he remembered to loop them in. Recap time is always fine "they all had their shirts off very exciting" Sasha is so excited to go to another place with great daggers So Hamid is able to follow what Eldarian's doing and she is behaving. Worth a shot Lydia, Sasha would have stashed food And Grizzop has gifties! Explanation time Grizzop and Sasha are not letting Eldarian play language games or trusting her an inch Yeah that type are often saying things as they see them; they just have a "unique way of seeing things" Sweet sweet backstory time Poor kid Of course Eldarian is crying, place bets now on "it wasn't like that", "it was for your own good", "but I didn't mean to hurt you; even though you told me in every possible way that what I was doing was hurting you and I didn't stop", or a mixture thereof. On the other hand, Alex is damn good so maybe she has one hell of an explanation, realizes it was still not an excuse and was seeking out Sasha for a real reconciliation? I mean I hear it happens I am so happy she had Bi Ming Darn, I was betting on Meritocrats Of course she is playing the "you are making me out to be the bad guy" card Conflicted, if we don't get the explanation of her backstory then do we have enough info to trust her? but if we do get an explanation then the process will either mean letting her rewrite the whole thing unchallenged or pissing her off to the point that she starts noting who to "accidentally" lose Grizzop, watch telling Azu how things work here. Must try to remember that mental age aside, he only has 10 years of life experience so it makes sense he jumps to conclusions BTW I thought Einstein was their ticket home, if we are going to trust her with their transportation then can we not see him off safely before going through? Because even if you set aside his mental state, leaving a civilian there to wait is a dick move even if they do sort out the food Alex using Einstein to mess with Sasha is mean "oh no he teleported through the 4th wall" Rake Fines explanation time? I love Sasha's point of view regarding rich people vs criminals Nice solution, he can check in once a week! They don't have to just dismiss him and hope Eldarian doesn't get aggressive aggressive instead of passive aggressive or leave him to fight off everything that is coming after hearing the fight in the beginning of the episode Hamid points out they could use Einstein as a messenger. No one else has anyone to send a "if you are reading this.." letter Practical Sasha

Mage armor! Grizzop has the sense to give Einstein the necklace of sanctuary Yeah every mythology fan just winced as Einstein called himself a God while in Rome "Don't let go" and a paper chain of the team, right before heading to the place where Alex called for saves every 3 seconds, this sounds safe./s   They can't be tied together why? Poor Alex GMing and running the equipment at the same time

The endless chain of writers-block and its effects on productivity

Heyo!

I just thought I'd give an update as to what's happening in regards to writing projects, for anyone wanting to know.

I have a lot of things going on and not enough attention span to stick to any one particular thing. My To-Do list is 18 projects strong and in the last three months I've worked on 4 things (technically 5 if you wanna include Barbershop Duet which I had only minor tweaks needed in order for me to consider it complete enough to post), trying to complete one, getting stuck or bored or uncertain and then sought refuge in another story, only to get stuck, bored, or uncertain in that one and moving on to the next one, etc.

It's been a bit of a hard slog, TBH.

But just to list the four ongoing projects, because I want to get them done in the next 12 months -

The project which took up a lot of my time has been The Anomaly: part 2, which is my Axel is a demon AU. The first part you can currently read on AO3. I've had a very solid plan for that since I first published it a year ago. I wanted to have the story finished for Halloween this year, but the project grew too big. Part 2 is done (but not uploaded), and I have a part 3 and 4 to write now. I got hopelessly stuck on part 3 and moved on to another story, which I'll talk about below. But going back to The Anomaly for a moment - I'm very excited about this story. It's the biggest project I've got going because it has a lot of off-shoot projects attached to it, which I look forward to delving into once I'm done with the main story. And the main story is a beast. I've re-written large parts of part 1 to make it cohesive with the subsequent parts. I added an extra 5000 words to it, bringing the word count up to 40k. I haven't updated the story yet and won't do so until I'm ready to post parts 2, 3 and 4, and I'm not sure when that might be. Part 2 is over 30k, and while I'm not sure about the length of part 3 (esp since I'm so horribly uninspired and stuck on it) but it might be long once I get back into it. I think part 4 will also be quite long as well, as that is the part I’m really looking forward to writing. So you see, it is definitely a project I'm really enjoying... when I'm not stuck on it, and I’m stuck on it because of a POV change. God damn. So I dropped The Anomaly and moved on to this 'short' AkuRoku smut drabble I have to write for a friend, which should be the easiest because it was just supposed to be smut but I got bogged down in backstory and motivations and character drives like I usually do. I got up to a certain point and gave up on it. It feels like I've been working on it for ages but only have like 3000 words of writing to show for it. Also, an added fun bonus (not) of difficulty was a very unexpected crisis I had in regards to writing tense. I had started writing this story in past tense, but then going back to it after spending so much time living and breathing The Anomaly (like I was crazy prolific, writing about 50k in the span of maybe 3 weeks) I couldn't write past tense anymore. I basically rewrote what I had for this AkuRoku story in present tense and continued going with it, until I hit a brick wall and moved on from it.

The project I went on to work on is something I've had sitting on the ‘to be completed’ pile since October 2017. I'm very close to finishing it. Possibly two more chapters, but I am terribly uninspired about writing it too because it's hard. It's a Clack and AkuRoku story, where Cloud and Roxas as brothers (I love that familial relationship). It's also written in past tense, so of course I had a really hard time switching gears from the present tense high I was on from the previous two projects to the past tense this story needed. I thought about re-writing this Combo story but... I had already written too much to warrant the effort of rewriting the whole thing. So I had to stick to past tense and that was insanely hard. It had me in tears. It had me pulling at my hair and doubting that I would ever be able to write anything cohesive and meaningful ever again. Everything I had written felt like crap because I now feel like past tense is too passive. I really enjoy the impact of present tense. So everything I read and wrote felt like swill. 

In the midst of my crisis, I’ve now decided to exclusively write in present tense once I finish the past tense stories. It's also why I haven't gone back to The Anomaly and the AkuRoku story, because I'm scared of getting stuck in present tense mode again. It was really fucking hard to break out of that mindset to write past tense again, so I don't want to relive that experience.

Anyway, predictably, I got stuck on the above project and moved on to the current project which I'm writing. It's pure Clack. I started writing it in September 2017. Back in 2017 I got stuck on this Clack story, moved on to writing the Combo story above, and got stuck on that and started writing what became the behemoth that is The Two Penguins, which consumed two years of my life. But this Clack story is my true passion project. It's the thing I love and cherish the most. It's the thing I've been longing to get back into writing the most. Clack is my OTP, above AkuRoku. It's the pair I fear writing because I feel I can't do it justice; writing Cloud is hard. AkuRoku is my comfort ship. My easy ship. The ship that's as easy to do as breathing. Clack is breathing while climbing Everest, but I love it, and I am determined to finish it (until I get stuck on it and feel tempted to move on to something else 😅). I am three chapters away from finishing this Clack story. I'm having serious concerns about getting stuck after I finish chapter 7 because I think chapter 8 is a POV shift, which (as you may recall was also the thing that made me give up on The Anomaly) is always challenging for me. But God damn, I love Clack. I love this story and I want to finish telling it and exploring really heavy issues around recovery from severe physical and mental trauma (’cause that’s the way I roll). 

Anyway... these are the four projects I've got going at the moment and hope to finish in the next 12 months.

Clack Clack/AkuRoku AkuRoku The Anomaly (I don’t have any solid titles for any of the above stories, bar this one, as I did publish the first part of it, so ship names to identify the stories will have to do)

I want to finish the stories In that order. I'm least excited about the two middle projects, So I figure if I stick The Anomaly at the end it will motivate me to finish the other AkuRoku fic.

If any of you would like to be pre-readers for any of these stories do hit me up. I might need you. When I have people I can talk to and brainstorm with about my current projects, it helps me feel motivated to stick it out and get it done.

Send me asks, chat with me on Twitter or discord. You can find all my handle ID's on my AO3 profile page.

Anyway, I initially came here because I wanted to procrastinate and rave about my Clack project, but I might leave the raving to another day. I've procrastinated enough.

What Could’ve Been (ML season 2 rewrite) Volpina Part 1

Hey guys! This is a Miraculous Season 2 rewrite attempting to fix certain things and apply theories that could’ve been used. This will start from Volpina to the end of season 2 and hopefully continue when Season 3 comes out.

This wouldn’t have happened without the Marinette Defense Squad on discord and especially  @imthepunchlord for contributing with ideas and lore. I’m so thankful for their help and I hope they’ll continue to collab with me on the future chapters!

This is a gift to imthepunchlord and all of the Marinette Defense Squad on discord

Title: What Could’ve Been Pairings: Adrien/Marinette, Nino/Alya Genre(s): Romance/Friendship/Drama/Action Summary: Rewrite of Miraculous Ladybug from Volpina onward that will attempt to give healthy characterization, development, and slowburn with the miraculous cast that is not hindered by the episodic formula and reset button that is applied in the show.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Miraculous. If I did, I would give it to the discord server to rewrite it.

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Volpina: Part One

“Adrien, I’ve prepared your schedule for today.” Natalie announced as Adrien walked down the grand staircase to his foyer. Adrien resisted the urge to sigh and gave a weak smile. If structure is what his father wanted, he would go along with it…

“Thank you, Natalie.” Adrien replied. Natalie nodded and went to go prepare the car with the Gorilla. A slam was heard, and Adrien jumped, registering his father’s angry tone resonating from his study. Concern filled Adrien. He hasn’t seen his father much in these past months since his mother’s departure. Ever since then, his father had immersed himself in his work to the point where Adrien questioned if he ever slept or ate. He wondered what his father was thinking—did he miss her as much as Adrien did?

A hand touched the doorknob of his father’s study, the only physical barrier between them, but Adrien felt as if they were oceans away from each other emotionally. An urge to talk to his father about their grief entered his mind, and determined, Adrien peeked inside the study where his father was talking heatedly with an employee.

“You got the arrangements all wrong and the show is next week! You seem more like an imbecile than a professional!” Gabriel roughly closed the tome he was searching through, picking it up and retreating to Adrien’s Maman’s portrait. Adrien’s eyes widened as he listened to his father talk while Gabriel revealed a secret safe behind the portrait.

“No, have Natalie send you the arrangements. She does a better job than your incompetent staff.” Gabriel finished the call, closing the safe, and hiding it from the world again. Adrien hid away as his father exited the study, his green eyes trained on the door.

“He keeps a safe behind Maman’s portrait?” Adrien whispered. Like his Black Cat Miraculous, Adrien couldn’t resist the temptation to sate his curiosity. He crept quietly into the study, immediately zeroing in on the portrait and moving it aside.

Staring at the lock though, he hesitated. This was his father’s privacy he was breaking. Whatever his father was hiding, he didn’t want Adrien to see. Guilt churned in his gut, preparing to shut the portrait’s view of the safe before Plagg chose this to be the time he would be the little devil on Adrien’s shoulder.

“Oooh I love secrets! Let’s have a look!” Plagg announced in glee, rubbing his paws together. Adrien looked unsure.

“We probably shouldn’t, Plagg.” Adrien said, but his traitorous eyes wouldn’t leave the safe. He then cleared his throat and appeared casual. “Besides, I wouldn’t want Father searching through my things like this.”

But Plagg wasn’t having it. He could see the thirst for knowledge in his kitten’s eyes and frankly, Plagg finally found something interesting in this stuffy mansion! He wasn’t going to just pass it up because his kitten has a conscience.

“Too late!” Plagg cried, eagerly zipping through the metal to unlock the safe. Adrien made a grab for him, but he was too slow. A few clicks were heard, and Adrien was face to face with the contents of the safe and Plagg’s Cheshire Cat grin.

“Ooooh lookie here! A ticket stub to Tibet! And some old Chinese relics! Ah, even a pretty lady!” Plagg flew around excitedly at all the contents. Adrien’s eyes snapped towards a picture of his beautiful mother Emile. Her serene expression was frozen in time in the photo, and he knew in his memory, it would burn in his mind forever. Sadness engulfed him while he fingered the glass of the picture.

“That’s my Maman, Plagg. You’ve seen her on my computer.” Adrien informed, distracted by his overwhelming urge to cry at the loss of his mother’s warm smile. She wouldn’t approve of him breaching his father’s trust like this. She always had told him and Gabriel it was better to be honest with each other even if it hurt, than to lie and find out from someone else causing more hurt.

“Plagg, I—”

“Ah ha! This is the book he was looking at!” Plagg was oblivious to Adrien’s conflict, opening the pages and flipping through them in interest. The contents of the book, however, made his eyes enlarge and he made a choking noise. Adrien stared at his kwami in concern.

“Plagg, what is…it…?” he trailed off, wide eyes taking in the contents of the book. There on the pages were both depictions of what looked like to be ancient Ladybug and Chat Noir wielders. Adrien gaped, his mouth opening and closing, quickly snatching the book and flipping the pages with as much care as his could have in his speedy examination.

His emerald eyes locked onto another hero, and Adrien gasped, anger flowing through him at the sight of what appeared to be Hawkmoth’s Miraculous.

“What’s he doing in this book about Ladybug and Chat Noir?” Adrien hissed. However, before he could examine the tome any further, he heard Natalie’s voice. He panicked, shutting the door to the safe and closing the portrait quickly, and stuffing the book in his bag. He composed himself, making sure to use some of his ‘Adrien charm’ as his mother would call it, and appeared sheepish.

“There you are! The car is ready.” Natalie told him.

“Coming, Natalie.” Adrien followed her, his mind firing questions left and right. Why was Hawkmoth with Ladybug and Chat Noir? How did his father get this book?

Most importantly, why did he have it and not tell Ladybug?

Adrien was distressed with these questions all the way to school.

------------------------------------------

“Gah! I’m late again!” Marinette cried as she scrambled to pack her bag. Tikki sighed.

“I told you not to switch off your alarm.” Tikki scolded in a way that said ‘I told you so’. Marinette was sheepish.

“But sleep is important for a superhero! You can’t deny that heroes need more sleep than regular people, right Tikki?” Marinette grinned bashfully. Tikki sighed, giving her a teasing smile.

“If all heroes slept like you, Marinette, we would never catch any akuma.” Tikki smirked. Marinette pouted.

“Awww Tikki! That’s unfair.” Marinette protested.

“Aren’t you forgetting you are running late, Marinette?” Tikki reminded, playing innocent. Marinette fell for it, gasping when she saw the clock. She gave a cry, immediately returning to scrambling around to gather her things. Tikki flew into her purse, amused at her little bug’s antics.

Marinette raced down the stairs towards the kitchen, grabbing an apple and swiftly kissing her mother and father’s cheeks. Sabine and Tom watched their daughter move about fondly, exchanging knowing looks and both giggling in amusement.

“Bye Maman! Bye Papa!” Marinette bid her parents farewell, sneaking a cookie for Tikki from the cookie tray. Her parents were none the wiser that she snuck it into her purse for her kwami. The teenage superhero raced out of her family’s bakery towards the steps of Collège Françoise Dupont. She breathed a sigh in relief that she wasn’t late for once. Maybe she could meet up with Alya and chat before class! An excited grin bloomed across her features, searching around for the journalist. When she couldn’t find her though, she decided to ask Rose and Juleka if they’ve seen the girl.

“I can’t believe Lila met Prince Ali! She’s so lucky to know him on a personal level!” Rose gushed, preventing Marinette from speaking. The girl saw Juleka appeared a little uncomfortable with Rose’s words, and Marinette felt pity for the sad glint in Juleka’s eyes as Rose admired Prince Ali. Maybe she should comfort her when they were alone…

“How dare Jagged Stone compose a love song for Lila outside of her window! I’m obviously better than her!” Chloe seethed, stomping by in one of her usual ‘Princess tantrums’ with Sabrina following and failing to calm her. Marinette blinked, distracted from her original mission of locating Alya and listening to all of her classmates praising a girl named Lila for incredible feats.

She entered the courtyard in curiosity, continuing to listen to everyone’s praises of the unknown girl. Finally spotting Alya, Marinette figured her friend could provide her an answer to her classmates’ behavior.

“Who’s Lila?” Marinette asked Alya. Alya was flipping through her phone, grinning like a mischievous fox. Her gold eyes sparkled in excitement and she looped an arm around Marinette’s shoulders to show her what she was looking at.

“She’s the new exchange student from Italy! Her mother’s a diplomat so she gets to travel a lot and meet a lot of famous people! Look! She’s even submitted something to the Ladyblog!” Alya grinned, clicking play on her video. Marinette found herself gazing at a pretty girl with brown hair laughing elegantly. The way the girl held herself was proud, but Marinette couldn’t help but feel a little turned off from the smug glint in the girl’s eyes.

“Oh Ladybug?” the girl, Lila’s, voice drifted into Marinette’s ears. “We’re like this.” Lila crossed her fingers, symbolizing her and Ladybug were tight. Marinette’s eyebrows rose in shock. She’s never met this girl! As she listened further about how Ladybug saved Lila and they’ve been close ever since, her frown deepened, and her eyes turned into slits the more she saw Lila’s smirk and fabricated smug story.

A memory crept from the recesses of her mind, of another person pretending to be nice and then crushing her hopes. Her eyes automatically focus on the person who fooled her before she shook her head. There was no use bringing up old wounds she couldn’t easily bandage back together. But the association already rooted in her mind, and Marinette felt an intense dislike for this Lila, just like she felt distain for all malicious liars. Squirming, Marinette felt like she was being suffocated and maneuvered out of Alya’s hold to get some air in order to calm her rising ire.

The familiar arrogant giggle reached her ears, and the midnight haired girl snapped her head up to see Lila in the flesh holding Adrien’s wrist. An ugly feeling of possession and protectiveness churned in Marinette’s stomach at the sight. She wanted to assert her claim on Adrien, but she also wanted to protect him from Lila’s dishonest clutches.

“What is she doing with my Adrien?” Marinette hissed. Alya looked taken aback by Marinette’s attitude before composing herself in a teasing manner. Maybe this will finally get her friend to make a move on Adrien!

“Oh, you know, probably charming up our local model! I mean she’s pretty famous after all!” Alya smirked. Marinette felt anxiety at that statement.

‘What if he falls for her and doesn’t know she’s lying? He could be hurt!’ Marinette fretted. She wrung her hands roughly, and Alya blinked. She knew her friend had bad anxiety, but she usually suffered exaggerated catastrophic thinking in a more comical way. Seeing Marinette really distressed alarmed her a bit.

“Are you okay?” Alya placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder. Marinette jolted out of her thoughts and locked eyes with Alya’s amber ones. “I know you like Adrien, but remember Marinette, he doesn’t know you like him. He’s allowed to be around other girls.” Alya gently explained to her. Marinette swallowed, her eyes hyper focusing on Lila tugging Adrien out of her sight, and her heart clenched in worry.

“I gotta go.” Marinette excused herself, running off to follow the two. Alya watched her go, worried about her friend, but knew if she went, it would only be encouraging Marinette’s jealousy. She sighed, resolving to talk to her about it later when she was calmer.

Marinette hid herself in the library, following Lila’s flirty giggling towards where the two were. Adrien and Lila were sitting at a table, his eyes intently examining the text he was reading. Lila appeared a little put off that Adrien was paying more attention to his book than her, and Marinette watched her place her hand on the text, moving closer to Adrien to get his attention. Marinette bit her jacket to keep from snarling.

“Thanks for helping me study history.” Lila smiled, twirling some of her hair and taking his hand. Adrien felt a little uncomfortable, Lila’s behavior vaguely reminding him of how Chloe hasn’t been respecting his boundaries lately and he resisted the urge to take his hand away.

“Oh, you’re welcome, Lila. Though Max’s grades are better than mine in history. Maybe next time we can ask him for help too.” Adrien mentioned, feeling increasingly uncomfortable with her not releasing his hand.

“Marinette,” Tikki left the safety of her purse, her voice dripping with disapproval. She crossed her paws, gazing at her bug sternly. “Are you spying on Adrien?”  

Marinette jolted, turning to Tikki, shock on her face before determination settled there.

“I’m not spying, Tikki. I’m chaperoning… without them knowing.” Marinette finished weakly. Tikki appeared not convinced.

“You know, Marinette. Adrien is always being watched over by his father and his bodyguards. Do you think he’d appreciate you watching over him like you’re his babysitter?” Tikki lectured. Marinette’s shoulders slumped, but she still wanted to defend herself.

“But Tikki! Lila is lying! I gotta protect him!” Marinette whispered.

“Protect or make sure he doesn’t get stolen away?” Tikki raised a brow. Marinette deflated.

“Protect? Keep him single? …I don’t know. Both?” Marinette admitted. Tikki sighed and flew to Marinette, lifting her chin to gaze at her. Tikki’s eyes were tender as she surveyed her bug.

“Marinette,” Tikki began, “You are my wonderful bug. You are so compassionate and smart, but you are letting your jealousy and fear dictate your actions. Perhaps not all your intentions are bad with wanting to also protect Adrien, but you must remember Adrien is his own person. You can’t always prevent him from being hurt or prevent him from loving others just because you don’t like them.” Tikki explained with tenderness.

“But she’s taking advantage of people Tikki…” Marinette tried to keep the hurt out of her voice from the memory of dealing with another person who harms others without any remorse, but Tikki heard it.

“And she will be found out sooner or later. This is not the time or the way to expose her. All maliciousness shows itself at some point.” Tikki told her soothingly. She sensed a deep hurt from Marinette, and she wondered what had given her such pain, but knew it wasn’t the time to pry.

Marinette sighed, and nodded, realizing that Tikki was right. She blinked tears out of her eyes from past scars, and Tikki comforted her. They would leave from their hiding place after Adrien and Lila to avoid being caught.

Meanwhile, Adrien was trying to help Lila with history, while discreetly trying to read the tome he stole—borrowed, he corrected himself—for more information on the Miraculous. Lila was increasingly insistent he pay attention to her, despite giving her passages she could read and dissect on her own, and Adrien made sure to keep his composure lest he put a tarnish on the Agreste name.

He turned another page of the ancient tome, and his expression turned to adoration as he fondly traced the picture of the female hero in the book wielding the Ladybug Miraculous, being reminded of his own Lady. He wondered what she was doing right now. He wished he knew who she was—being able to spend time with her outside of hero duties would send him to cloud 9.

“Ladybug fan?” Lila interrupted his musings. She appeared irritated that his attention was elsewhere, and Adrien could feel himself tensing from the calculating way she gazed at him. He glanced down at the image of the Ladybug hero to give him courage, and he felt a grin emerge on his face at the thought of his Lady.

“Yeah. She’s amazing!” Adrien sighed, blissfully imagining his Lady smiling, her bluebell eyes sparkling in jest as he delivers a terrible pun. Lila watched Adrien critically, and a surge of distain coiled in her gut for the spotted hero. Her mouth opened, spitting poison for the hero like a viper.

“She’s alright. Though if you ask me, I’ve seen better girls to idolize than her.” She spat a distasteful emphasis on Ladybug, and Adrien narrowed his eyes, not liking the way she addressed his partner. Not only was she the love of his life, but also, she was his valued teammate and deserved respect.

“Ladybug gives her all for Paris. To me, there’s no one more admirable.” Adrien said firmly, and Marinette blushed, her back to the bookshelf, listening in on the conversation when they started talking about Ladybug. Tikki couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride in Adrien for sticking up for her bug. However, her attention was then caught by the book Adrien was reading, and her eyes widened in realization.

‘That book… it can’t be!’

Lila made a face, but composed herself, smirking coyly like a predator cornering their prey, and placed her face in close proximity to Adrien’s. Adrien, not expecting the loss of space, backed away flustered. Lila wasn’t deterred.

“Hmph. Meet me in the park around 3pm after class. I’ll be sure to show you something that can change your mind.” Lila flirted, coming close to his face again. Adrien’s mind was screaming escape.

“Errr okay! I gotta go right now though!” Adrien excused himself quickly—agreeing to meet her just to cease her advances now—grabbing the tome and fleeing far away from her. Lila watched him go, a pensive expression on her face.

“He likes heroes huh…?” she murmured, departing from the library, a plan set in mind.

Marinette and Tikki released their breaths, sighing in relief when they were alone. Marinette stretched, getting ready to go to class, and leave Adrien and Lila alone. Tikki was right—Adrien was a person, not an object for her to covet. He had a right to make his own decisions.

‘Even if I don’t like them, I have to respect them because he’s my friend.’ Marinette concluded, proud of herself for choosing to be a good friend.

“Marinette! We have to go to the park after them!” Tikki urged. Marinette gaped.

“Tikki! You just told me I have to stop spying on Adrien! Now you’re telling me to spy on him?” Marinette questioned. What has gotten into her kwami?

“You don’t understand Marinette! Adrien’s book! We need the book! It’s important!” Tikki pushed on. Marinette scrunched her brow.

“What about his book?” she asked Tikki. Tikki flew close to her face.

“It should only belong to the Guardian! It contains knowledge about all Miraculous that can be abused if it fell into the wrong hands! We need to get that book and return it to the Guardian immediately!” Tikki frantically explained.

“Who’s the Guardian?” Marinette inquired. Her bluebell eyes narrowed. “Tikki, what have you been hiding?”

“I promise I will tell you everything, but right now we need to make sure we follow Adrien to the park after class! We can’t let this chance get away from us!” Tikki persuaded her. Marinette saw the panic in her kwami’s face and nodded.

“Okay, we’ll follow them after class.” Marinette conceded. Tikki sighed in relief.

“Thank you, Marinette.” Tikki told her chosen sincerely, for she was very grateful Marinette listened to her council. She’s had some stubborn bugs in the past that often had to learn the hard way, but while Marinette was like that at times, she did respect Tikki’s input. She supposed it was because all her bugs were spirited little things, and that spirit could get in the way of rational thought if they weren’t careful.

She winced at the memory of Hippolyta. While she adored her like all her other bugs, the woman was not known for her willingness to compromise. Her fate was set the moment Hera manipulated her and Hercules took her life.

But Tikki has learned since then. She will try her hardest to council her bugs, even if they didn’t agree sometimes. She’s lived many lifetimes, but each of her bugs has never been forgotten by her, despite some of them rejecting her council. It just made her more determined to be better and guide her future bugs to success.

Marinette hid Tikki in her purse and set off towards class. She couldn’t help but muse about the book Adrien was reading and why Tikki wanted it. There was also the mysterious Guardian. She remembered Pharaoh, and her fight with him at the museum. Not since then has it hit her that Tikki was an all-powerful being that lived thousands of years and wasn’t just her small companion that helped her turn into Ladybug. Was this Guardian as old as Tikki? Was he a kwami like Tikki or was he human like her? Marinette tried to fathom a human living as long as perhaps Tikki had, and it didn’t seem to click, almost like it was too surreal—too phenomenal to comprehend a human living many lifetimes.

“Ah, Marinette, late again I see.” Madam Bustier remarked, but you could see her face stretched into an amused, fond smile for her class president. Marinette gave a weak grin, chuckling nervously.

“Sorry, Madam Bustier.” Marinette apologized. Madam Bustier shook her head, her smile still present.

“I will not count it on your record this time, but please try to be on time in the future.” Madam Bustier sighed. Marinette gave a grateful nod and sped towards her seat. She discreetly eyed Adrien. The boy paid her no mind, his eyes flickering between his notes and under his desk where the tome that Tikki wanted sat on his lap. Whatever this book was, it sure had Adrien’s attention. It only served to make Marinette more curious about the contents of the ancient book as well.

Alya didn’t seem to notice Marinette’s eyes trained on the book in Adrien’s lap instead of Adrien. The girl’s amber eyes watched her, concerned that Marinette may have gotten her heart broken while spying on Adrien and Lila. Marinette played her part and gave Alya a reassuring smile, mouthing ‘I’m okay’.

This seemed to satisfy the journalist, and she went back to her notes while Marinette stared at the back of Adrien’s head. Luckily, she did this so much that her friend didn’t even bother to be suspicious at her actions.

The midnight haired girl placed a hand on her purse where Tikki resided, drawing strength from her while she plotted in her head about how she was going to get the book from Adrien without revealing who she really was. She wouldn’t lie—she knew Adrien adored Ladybug—and at times she was hypnotized by the temptation to reveal to him who Ladybug really was, so she could earn his affections, but Marinette always stomped on these daydreams.

She wasn’t stupid. Revealing yourself comes with consequences—consequences she’s probably never realized that were even worse than putting her loved ones in danger. She wouldn’t put her friends and family in the line of fire just because she wanted a boy to notice her. When she first took up the mantle of Ladybug, it soon became apparent being a hero wasn’t just donning a mask—you could be required to make sacrifices and go against your personal wants for the sake of everyone else’s safety.

There were times Marinette was sure she was going to die in this never-ending war. She’s never discussed it with Tikki the realization that she could very well lose her life while fighting Hawkmoth. There were many—too many—close calls where she thought ‘this is it. I’m going to die.’ though she had a feeling Tikki knew all too well about the mortality of her Ladybugs.

These thoughts often stopped her from ever giving in and revealing herself to her partner, Chat Noir. She had no fear that he would be disappointed—that wasn’t what stopped her besides the fear that Hawkmoth could find out about her if Chat Noir was ever compromised and vice versa.

It was the fact that if she revealed herself, and she died, Chat Noir would be alone in his mourning of who she really was. He would be able to put a face to his dead partner, and no one besides him would ever know she was Ladybug and Marinette Dupain-Cheng, two people he’s interacted with actually being the same person. At least if one of them died, they would be able to protect themselves from the reality that they were more than soldiers against Hawkmoth—that they were just children.

If she gave Chat a face, an identity under the mask, it would shatter the illusion of their invincibility. The reality that they had lives outside of their masks would weigh upon them, and the façade of heroes would be gone, replaced by the frightening reality that they were just children in a war against a merciless terrorist.

To Chat Noir and Paris, she was Ladybug, a hero that couldn’t be put down or beaten. She was a symbol to them. A symbol of hope and that good always wins. If she died now, at least hope would live on and pass onto the next Ladybug.

She refused to make Chat Noir suffer in silence and despair if he knew the face behind the mask and no one would be able to share in his grief.

Paris could live on without her as Ladybug, but Chat Noir could not.

She was jolted from her reverie when she felt Tikki’s paw press against her palm through the fabric of her purse, as if she knew what Marinette was thinking. It brought Marinette back to reality, back to where she was and what her mission was.

Determination filled her. Now was not the time to dwell on her mortality. She was a soldier—a hero of Paris—and she would continue to fight for Paris until her last breath. However, now was the time to plan for her current mission to retrieve Adrien’s book.

It was time for Ladybug to step into the arena once more. \

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There’s part 1 of Volpina rewrite! I hope you guys like it. I have the whole rewrite of the episode outlined, but I find it easier to do smaller chapters in order to hopefully update faster. Please let me know what you think if you can!

Week 1

Exercise

1 film that’s stayed with me and remembered. The Secret Garden, 1993, dir. Agnieszka Holland.

Cinematography wide shots and beautiful establishing shots, opening shot is a lone girl that can’t clothe herself, left in dead centre with lots of space around her, the closeups of hands feels very innocent and intricate- they feel like a soft, innocent female gaze.

Lighting contrast between the stale dark inside and the light garden

Editing not noticed so much

The script, partly cheesy cause it’s about children trying/forced to grow up too fast, and a period like flick

Production design, old timey and frilly, but oh boy their green set designer went OFF 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

Tone, lonely and hollow to a slow burn hope

Theme….

theme? Did it speak to me? Yes, the absence of parents- chosen to or not, running around finding wonder, kindness and strength in a garden

How did I feel? Loved and seen- a lost and lonely child that internally begs for love but has an inability to regulate her emotions- Collin too!

What kind of film would I like to be a part of HORROR or like something that can incite hope and make all types of children feel seen

EXERCISE 2

Director that inspires me: Gia Coppola

Resource on their process: ‘everything was trying to reach out to as many people as I could.’ Many of them stayed at Coppola’s mother’s house during filming. “I would drive them home after work and we’d all have dinner,” Coppola says, “It was like camp. I loved it.”

https://www.google.com.au/amp/s/www.washingtonpost.com/news/arts-and-entertainment/wp/2014/05/09/gia-coppola-talks-directing-james-francos-palo-alto-and-the-pressures-of-her-last-name-qa/%3foutputType=amp

https://www.google.com.au/amp/s/www.vogue.com/article/gia-coppola-palo-alto-personal-style-and-james-franco/amp

Notes on script:

Does the camera show that she’s dead?

When do we learn that she’s dead- same time as him or before?

Rewrite in program with proper formatting

Week 3…

I was able to get together with a crew member and get the new draft of the script done. I have a bit of trouble understanding sometimes how to properly structure a script after coming from a book writing background, so I was really thankful that she was able to help me understand even better. The feedback from previous classes has centred around its general ‘look’ as a script and whether the viewer is in on knowing that Alexis is dead, and from the strat I’ve wanted the audience to know to further their distaste towards Ross, otherwise the audience could say ‘well hey I missed it, I get why he did’. Her choking will take place on camera, close up, so we can watch her leave us.

Week 4…

Getting ready for the pitch has been a huge mental struggle for me, but I keep holding onto the idea of actually making this film and that definitely gets me into our team meetings on the days it feels impossible. I’m already so happy with the crew and their thoughts and contributions, but it doesn’t kill my anxiety of presenting. I feel like the script is at a good point based on feedback, so when we presented and the main concern was finding a production designer, I felt immediate relief… okay we can tackle that. There is a pressure I’ve found quite uncomfortable so far in my journey in this class, and it’s even after filling the crew roles, a certain student not even in this class has become quite intense in getting involved as camera operator despite that role being VERY explicitly filled. I plan on keeping polite but firm, but god why should I have to?

Week 5…

So… despite the previous week's tiny rant of someone trying to vulture a filled role, our original DOP is now the 1st AD and someone else within our crew has taken on DOP, a choice we were actually all really content with. A search for a production designer continues, but we have to focus on scouting our potential Ross and Alexis. Unfortunately none from the team- including myself, could make it to crewing night, however, another student pitched on our behalf. The main goal is to obviously fill the production designer role, so fingers are crossed in the meantime. There was no class this week so I definitely spent the week taking care of myself and finishing off my slides for the pitch for next week, and I’m pretty happy with my slides and that most in the crew have stuck to the same aesthetic through the slides (minus points for memes).

Week 6…

Pitch week, so I’m ill with anxiety for it, but nonetheless, meds taken, train caught and standing before the panel. After the comments from the panel on how it very obviously pulls away from the serious nature of content, I was pretty bummed I didn’t just quickly delete people’s memes before the pitch. Overall I felt pretty good about how it went, but that’s only because that’s how my crew told me to feel about it. My anxiety was so bad while presenting, that I blacked out. In moments of intense anxiety I will disassociate entirely, I know I spoke, but I know nothing that I said or that was said to me. This is an incredibly frustrating process for me, especially because I have had to rely on my crews memories on the pitch, which definitely doesn’t feel fair. They assure me we are on the right path, and just that we should get a move on with casting. Still no production designer.

Week 7…

Mental health and substance abuse are taking a bad turn this week and it is affecting how easily it is for me to communicate effectively with my crew. I won’t be able to open messages or even show I’m online out of fear of disappointing and giving wrong/no answers. I feel entirely overwhelmed and I can feel myself falling behind. There’s still no production designer and at this point I’m willing to do it because I fear it’ll turn into a shit show anyway. I have been experiencing the worst internet from home and it’s been making getting anything done when I’m finally mentally available, impossible. I’m tired and as much as I love this script, I just want this trimester over.

Week 8…

This week for The Silent Treatment, we’ve been taking a look at Producer Sina’s Starnow casting calls for both roles, as well as looking at AirBnB’s for possible locations, which has lead to playful but extenuating bickering on the dop and producers part over ‘apartment or house’, which honestly, it’s quite easy reigning them in when they get a little too passionate. But I’ve actually found their bickering and passionate opinions on options for the film and helping restore my own fight for this film too. We have a few meetings coming up over our discord and we’ve been polishing up our previous presentation slowly.

Week 9…

We’re cutting down through our pickings for actors as well as getting excited over the possibility of taking James Lewis on as production designer. He actually appears to listen and understand quite well and he’s always writing notes in his book for props and decor. I’ve shared my ideas and I’m hoping he can fulfil my needs. This week was a really difficult one for me mentally (big shock and huge surprise) so I’ve actually been trying to make a plan to stay well and that’s by putting together a rehab stay, a huge and terrifying step I’m still not sure I’m going to actually take.

Week 10…

I’ve lost all of myself and my motivation this week. A rehab stay is officially scheduled and I’m afraid and trying so hard to reignite my passion for film and my own words and stories, but I don’t think it is worth it. I know I’ll look back in a week to a few weeks and struggle to understand why I hated my work so much, but I think when you hate you, everything you touch looks disgusting. I’ve been incredibly fortunate for my friends- some on my crew- and I’m INCREDIBLY fortunate for the crew members that don’t really know me from a bar of soap being exceptionally soft and kind with me during my low period. Knowing my team are such lovely people is actually a much better reason to get off my ass and do this- for them- not for me and my silly story…

Week 11…

We finally have short listed actors AND location and now we have those last auditions to wade through. Internally I definitely have decided on my location and actress, but for the male actor I’m not so sure yet. One guy auditioned and while he played it quite well, it was his in between chats that had me slightly off, as he kept feeling the need to drill in that he isn’t ‘this guy’, which of you arent, you don’t feel the need to tell everyone, which is why I’m keen to give another actor a whirl and see where to go from there. My fashion designer friend is still keen to make the scrubs and we’ve all worked out a decent pay for her services- I love bringing friends from other art disciplines into my films, eg placing crazy art from my painter friend, decorating the sets with my friends published books and even my nursing friend belinda wants to give me a bunch of medical supplies to set dress!

Week 12...

Big pitch next week and I’m terrified- how can I actually feel so prepared but terrified. The last male actor to audition BLEW me away and I felt a real chemistry when talking to him between the breaks which means I’m really looking forward to directions BOTH actors, as they’re super lovely and open and very relaxed to speak with! Location is LOCKED and I couldn’t be happier with the pick made! We just keep polishing away at the presentation, and yes, the memes are still coming out of the woodworks...

Week 13…

I'm not angry over the pitch, but I wouldn’t say I left happy… some of the ‘criticisms’ felt so empty and UTTERLY devoid of actual meaning. I mean, and I’m sorry, but this script was the same script written 1 year ago. No changes were made because I didn’t receive criticism through these weeks to do so- sure structure of the actual script itself changed but the scene where he imposes himself in her space was ALWAYS there, and I know the lecturers can have a lot to remember, but DO NOT ever say ‘this part wasn’t always here’ and ‘no I think we would’ve noticed’ had me boiling. It’s important to not talk with so much confidence in these kinds of times, as we all can forget things, but to stand and tell someone what they wrote and didn’t write in front of a crowd of people in higher positions than them, that’s insulting. I’m happy to take the criticisms about that ‘rape implication’ exert VERY easily, but it could have been addressed in week 1. I also do believe that younger lecturers NEED to be in these pitches, as it is a crowd of older people and senses of humour and film are changing and that should be fairly judged by a RANGE of ages.

APA REFERENCING

Gia Coppola talks directing James Franco’s “Palo Alto” and the pressures of her last name (Q&A). (n.d.). Washington Post. Retrieved June 25, 2021, from https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/arts-and-entertainment/wp/2014/05/09/gia-coppola-talks-directing-james-francos-palo-alto-and-the-pressures-of-her-last-name-qa/

Nast, C. (2014, April 4). Gia Coppola On Palo Alto, Personal Style, and James Franco. Vogue. https://www.vogue.com/article/gia-coppola-palo-alto-personal-style-and-james-franco--