it made me feel like she was talking about herself even before the accident

Idea for a Superman origin movie

built around two solid points:
1) Lois Lane is the lead character; and
2) The audience dose not know who is playing Superman going into the movie.

So the movie centers around a young Lois, who’s desperately trying to get a job as a reporter at the Daily Planet, despite a hiring freeze as the printed journalism business struggles to keep up, and despite the fact she has no prior journalism experience (at least, not outside of an expensive degree that has yet to start paying for itself). Even though no one at the Planet will even return her calls, she barges in in the middle of a work day, trying to get an interview. She bounces off a lot of people (a number of them tall guys with dark hair and nice eyes who she barely notices) until she tracks down Perry White, who tells her, sarcastically, that he’ll hire her on the spot if she can bring him a properly sourced article revealing the story Metropolis’s new hero, who just yesterday stopped a runaway train with his bare hands. 

She gets to work. Her friends tell her she’s crazy. Her sister bails her out of jail at least once (maybe a montage of times). Her father, General Lane, threatens disownment and/or military arrest. This “menace” broke a muggers arm last week, and is wanted for vigilantism. If she really does find out the identity of this man (who’s been gaining notoriety with every feat) and brings it to a newspaper before the military, her father would have to take action. (This country is his family, after all.)

But the more Lois looks into this ‘super man’, the more she likes what she sees. It’s hard without credentials, but she’s been collecting eye-witness reports for months trying to find the pattern to track; the pattern that everyone’s been looking for. She has dozens of interviews with police, and store owners, and caught criminals, but it’s in the interviews of the regular folk that she finds the pattern:

This man is kind. 

Every headline is about a larger-than-life figure who catches falling statues, wins chases with cars, and stops bullets with his pecs. In the words of the innocent people of Metropolis though, is someone else. Someone who flies broken cars to the shop from the highway during rush hour. Someone who takes a sobbing child from the scene of a bike accident and drops off a smiling one with their parents. Someone who’s been spotted leaving flowers by the headstones of the ones who didn’t make it out of that train crash. Someone who sits in a secluded corner of the park and plays chess with the old woman who’s husband can no longer leave the house. Someone who literally pulled a dog out of a river and a cat from a tree. 

So, to find the Man of Steel, Lois searches for kindness - and she finds it everywhere. She finds all the coats freely shed for someone cold. She finds all the grocery carts paid for by the previous customer. She finds lonely veterans offered a seat at the family table in restaurants. She finds hate symbols painted over with cute cartoons and symbols of love. She finds dozens and dozens of volunteers who help clean up and serve food and rebuild after train crashes and car wrecks and robberies. 

She finds Superman.

And then she finds a man in the park.

He’s not doing much, just sitting on a bench with his head in his hands. The copy of the Daily Planet on the bench next to him speculates on the dangers of super humans, as it has every day for the last two weeks. Some have even suggested that the Man of Steel is an alien, though those theories have only barely broken into mainstream. Whatever this man is worrying over, whatever weight is on his shoulders, seems much heavier than a newspaper, though. Lois hasn’t worried herself with the same issue’s as her prospective employer, either. Thoughts still on the group of teens she’s just passed, each promising to beat up on some boy for their friend, are still fresh on her mind, and she takes the spot next to the stranger on the bench.

He’s not a stranger, though. Lois recognizes him. She doesn’t know his name, but she saw him that day at the Daily Planet months ago, and she’s seen him across the police tape at scenes she’s investigated. He wrote today’s front page article: “Man of Steel, or Menace of Steel?”

He’s politely flustered when she sits down, and she promptly tells him that everything about his article - she’s already read it, of course - is absurd. She doesn’t care who “made him write it”, the entire thing is just plain wrong. She finds herself repeating stories she’s read and re-read at all hours of the morning. Stories of regular people who’d told her how they’d been inspired by Superman. How they’d taken leaps of faith toward recovery and new lives thanks to Superman. Teenagers have chosen to live because of Superman. She quotes sources, and sources of people, including herself, who have said that the city of Metropolis - maybe even the world - was so much better because of Superman.

“Superman?” the reporter asks.

“It’s just something I’ve been calling him. He’s got that big S on his chest, right?”

The reporter laughs. He hasn’t smiled the whole time, only looked at her with wide eyes. His smile is… nice. His glasses are dumb though.

“Yeah,” she admits, “it’s a dumb name.”

“No,” he says. A weight has fallen off his shoulders while she was flipping through her notebooks. He sniffles a bit. Lois had just torn into his article with all the fury she could muster, is he crying about it? No, he’s smiling, still. “I really like it. Have you written all this down?”

Lois Lane writes it all down. Her new friend (who proofread the hell out of it because Lois is driven as hell but can’t spell) Clark Kent turned it in to his boss. The newest headline reads:

The Story of Superman -by Lois Lane


She’s getting paid more than Clark in under a year. He just seems to be so distracted all the time. Maybe she should look into that…
Moving on After Fred Weasley Passes Away - Headcanon/Would Include

Warnings: This broke my heart to write):


  • You wouldn’t cry much towards the beginning. Of course when the news hit a barricade of tears fell freely but after that, you learned how to bottle it all up. Everything was so unreal you weren’t even sure if it what was real anymore.
  • Fred was your best friend, your other half, the love of your life.
  • After the Battle of Hogwarts you’d travel back to the Burrow with the Weasley’s.
  • He was buried shortly after the Battle. His casket was a sleek black color and shined in the rain that fell. You placed a flower on the top of his casket and choked on a shaky sob. George stood behind you and his hand found it’s way into yours, giving you a squeeze of reassurance as he cried with you. You had never felt more lost in your life. Your fingers twiddled with the diamond band wrapped around your finger. It felt more like a piece of mockery, there to remind you everyday of what you could now never have.
  • Molly spent an entire week in the twins’ bedroom. She didn’t talk, hardly ate, just stared blankly at the wall next to Fred’s bed. He had pictures of his Hogwarts adventures taped to the wall and she had memorized every prospect of the photos so much she couldn’t rid the image from her brain when she closed her eyes, but she didn’t want to forget.
  • At the end of the week George entered his and Fred’s bedroom for the first time since the Battle. He spent an hour talking to his mother. You never did find out what he said, but you remember the burning visual of Molly exiting the room with reddened eyes full of heartbreak.
  • Ginny spent the nights sleeping in her room with you and cuddled against your chest, silently weeping to herself. Your presence made her feel close to her late brother, like he had never actually left.
  • George, Molly, and you would clean out Fred’s half of the room. It was full of tears and once happy now sad memories. Like the large maroon tie blanket you had made for Fred on your anniversary. Or the book on Magical Creatures that Fred had stolen on accident in Diagon Alley while he spied on you from behind a bookcase. You were shopping for all your school supplies and the redhead had torn from his family, catching glimpse of you in the robes shop and managed to follow you two stores later not wanting to leave you. You eventually caught him as he tripped over a pile of books, the binds of knowledge cascading to the floor with a crash. You smiled and helped him up while introducing yourself. The rest was history.
  • Arthur stood in the doorway of the room watching the three of you clean. Deep aging wrinkles indented his forehead making him appear older than he really was. His face was long, drowning in sorrow. He didn’t say a word, just watched.
  • Ginny cried alone in her room. Harry tried to comfort her but his success was no avail. She locked herself away for three days, lost in a sea of depression.
  • Ron turned to Harry and Hermione who welcomed him with open arms. He was the first to open up after his older brother’s death.
  • You stayed at the Burrow for a almost three weeks before flying to France. You choice was rash but you needed to get away. Molly understood and wished you well. You didn’t know how long you would be gone but you hoped it would give you some time to come to terms with the heartbreak you were experiencing.
  • Fred used to tell you when you were in school together that he always dreamed of going to France. He never knew why. He was rubbish at speaking French and had no idea how he’d survive, but it was a dream of his.
  • Percy, Bill, and Charlie all stayed at the Burrow for a month or so. Their hearts ached at the lose of their younger brother.
  • George… George no longer felt like himself. It was as if a part of himself was missing, torn from his soul. He dragged through the day’s, closing down the shop for a while. After spending two weeks at the Burrow he moved back to the apartment above Weasley Wizard Wheezes that Fred and him shared. The second he walked through the door he broke down. Tears splashed against his cheeks as he finally let all his emotions pour out. He called you, practically begging you to keep him company.
  • Of course you obliged and flew back home immediately. You lived with Fred in the apartment too. It was your home as well and you had been putting off going back to the apartment as much as possible. The home held so many items from your past involving Fred and you. Where he proposed to you, where you had you first blow up fight, where you had you first time together, where you had the million of talks about your future together, and so much more.  
  • This made Molly feel a little better when she heard you would be staying with George for a while. She hated the thought of George being all along right after losing his best friend, his twin, his other half.
  • You left France still clutching a box full of Fred’s belonging. A heavy feeling invaded your heart. You took a train to London after landing then joined George at the shop.
  • The minute the door swung open George’s arms were thrown around your frame as he pulled you into a tight embrace. The barrier you had been working so hard to uphold, crumbled at his touch. Not because you felt you could finally let go of all the emotions being kept inside. No, you cried because George’s embrace reminded you of Fred’s. The way his hold tighten as you sobbed mirrored Fred’s actions identically. Your chest ached as you came to realize you future with Fred was gone. George’s salty tears splashed on the crown of your head.
  • The first week barely any words at all were exchanged. You would mumble a small ‘good morning’ to each other during breakfast but that was usually it.
  • George spent the days in his room and the nights at a bar across the street. This continued on for a week until you confronted him. You waited up all night, worried sick. He stumbled in around three in the morning, eyes brimming red, breath stenching strong from alcohol.
  • “George Weasley, what the hell?” You would screeched. His eyes snapped up at you resembling a deer caught in headlights. His gazed quickly fell to the floor as he shut the house door and brushed past you. You yelled after him making him halt in his path,
  • “George pease just talk to me! I know this is hard for you, believe me I do. He was your brother. You two have never been apart so I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through. George I’m here for you and you can talk to me because I lost him too. You did everything with Fred, you two started this business together and we both know he just wants you to be happy again. Please… just try, George. Try for me, try for Fred. Please. I just want to be here for you. If there’s something I did. If you hate me-” Your voice broke at the end and your knees gave up. Crashing to the floor a echoing cry invaded the air. George stood motionless watching you fall apart before his eyes. He could almost hear Fred scolding him and urging him to act. Fred would want George to comfort you, Fred would want you two to be there for each other.
  • George hesitantly crossed the room and bent to your level. His hand reached out, brushing a strand of messy hair from your face. Glancing up at him you started in to question him but George beat you around the bush. He seemed half sobered up and shook his head.
  • “Y/n… it’s not you, I swear. You’re the most purest human being in the entirety of the world, please don’t think that way. Every moment you and Fred were together I could never shake that from my mind, how perfect you are. But god Y/n every time I see you I think of my brother. He loved you more than anything in this world and I know he would hate me right now for not being there for you. I feel like I’ve let him down and that hurts more than anything. I see Fred everytime I look in the mirror, everytime I see the pictures on the fridge, everytime I walk into the shop, everytime I come home and everytime I see you.”
  • His words took you by storm but for once, it made sense. You had been sleeping in Fred and your bed, helping start the shop back up (mainly by yourself), and it probably didn’t help that you had been stealing items of Fred’s clothing, just wanting to be close to him again. For the first time since the Battle, you admitted the burden you’d been holding inside.
  • “I wish I could’ve saved him. If I wasn’t distracted by the helping that student- if I would have been paying more attention to Fred… he’d still be here.” You quivered. George’s eye soften and he shook his head.
  • “Y/n you know no one could’ve stopped what happen. I’ve spent every night laying awake wondering if I could’ve changed something. I’m not sure what god planned this, or if there even is one, but Y/n we had no control over this.” His arms locked around you pulling you against his chest. His lips planted against your forehead sweetly covering you in a blanket of comfort.
  • You spent the rest of the night in George’s arm. You shared memories of Fred, some sweet, some funny, and some that made you cry again.
  • “Remember the time the two of you enchanted endless snowballs to pelt, well technically, Voldemort in the face and Quill in the back of the head?” You giggled into the glass of cherry red wine you held to your lips. George leaned into the cushion of the couch and shook his head with a smile. 
  • “Classic!”
  • George spent the night in Fred and your bed- to keep you company of course.
  • He kept you company for the rest of the nights to follow
  • The two of you began to drift into a weird zone
  • You had always lightly fancied George but it was Fred you loved.
  • He would randomly start bringing you home flowers and other small gifts
  • Some days George would come home to find a bundled up new sweater placed on his work desk. You always claimed the things you bought him were on sale so you just couldn’t resist but George knew better
  • A strong connection was growing and it confused you- George too. You wanted another shot at happiness but you weren’t sure if you were ready yet until another vacant Friday night rolled around and you found yourself laying on the couch in George’s arm talking about the week and before you knew it he was leaning forward.
  • The first time you kissed George you screwed your eyes shut tightly and imagined his lips as Fred’s. You knew it was horrible but you had no clue what else to do. It was like you were cheating on your fiance- your dead fiance, with his twin brother. But when you realized it was George, you didn’t entirely hate it. It was actually quite a fulfilling kiss. A part from inside of you warmed up for the first time in a long time.
  • George had a sickening vibe settling in the pit of his stomach after he pulled back. His heart sped up at the newfound affection the kiss brought although kissing you made him feel like he was betraying his brother. Fred planned to marry you for Merlin’s sake and there George was, making out with his dead twin’s girlfriend.
  • But you kissed him again the next day and he didn’t pull away
  • And the next
  • And the one after that too
  • Kissing you made George think of his brother. Fred loved you and George could understand why. Kissing you, sleeping beside you, comforting you, it all made George feel as if he was somehow growing closer to his twin.
  • At first your relationship with George was based solely on the fact that he was identical to your late lover but as time passed on George made you feel differently than Fred did. Despite you never thinking it was possible, George taught you how to laugh again. He would slowly crack back into his prankster self again. It took his almost a full year after Fred’s passing to invent a new product for the shop or even enter the store for more than passing to get to the apartment. He tested out the product on you during breakfast one morning. Pouring a lilac solution into the base of your black coffee and giving it a swirl, George carried on with breakfast as if nothing had happen. Dragging in, you hugged George from behind before taking a seat at the nook. You instantly sipped on the brewed mixture in front of you and spit it out in shock as the odd flavor set in.
  • George howled in laughed and bent over the kitchen stove pointing towards you. Furrowing your eyebrows you set the mug down and spoke up agitated,
  • “George what the hell did you put in- oh my god!”
  • You realized the change in tone quickly and covered your face in embarrassment. Your voice was as deep as a well making you sound similar to that of a male that had spent over half his life heavily smoking. George rushed over and planted a kiss to your cheek.
  • “It worked!” Although you were thoroughly ticked off at his choice of targeting you, you were happy he was back to his old ways. The bills were piling up by the second and the landlord wanted the shop either back up and running, or both of you to move out. Dumping your infected cup of coffee down the sink drain you started to make a new batch. Smiling to yourself you laughed softly,
  • “Well, I’m glad to have you back, George.”
  • That was only the beginning. George and you spent almost every moment inventing and creating new sale items. The first handful were absolute rubbish but it didn’t matter. Both of you were trying to get back in the swing of things and sometimes that took a while.
  • Within three months Weasley Wizard Wheezes was back up and running again.
  • Sales flooded in and shot straight through the roof steadily for a long term.
  • As a ‘thank you’ present for helping him get back on his feet George invited you out for a fancy meal out on the town.
  • You decided on a Muggle restaurant and dressed to the nines. George’s jaw skimmed the floor when you walked out of your room and slipped on your heels. He held your hand and escorted you out.
  • During dinner you had ntoiced how fidgety and nervous George was acting. You made the choice to question him on it over a glass of champagne right before the main course and he physically stiffened. Tilting his glass back, George chugged down the large intake and wiped his lips on the red amber napkin. His hands clasped together then unclasped at his side. His soft eyes found yours and he darted them back down to the tablecloth.
  • “It’s just- well, Y/n… what are we?”
  • It would get silent very fast and he would instantly fill it.
  • “What I mean is, I like you… I like you a lot but I know how you felt about my brother. I saw the glint in your eyes that would sparkle whenever you saw him and how happy you two were together and Y/n I want to be able to make you as happy as Fred did. With that being said I don’t want you to be with me because I remind you of him or because you can’t stop thinking about Fred. I’m not gonna lie at the start of our, uh, relationship I was hanging out with you because you made me think of Fred but all those late nights and million cups of coffee have made me realize the truth. I love you Y/n- and not because you dated my brother. I love you for you and I think I have for a very long time. What I’m asking is… Y/n would you um, like to be my girlfriend?”
  • You cried, a lot. George’s heart broke at the sight only confirming the love swelling in his heart. His feelings were genuine and it warmed your soul. You lunged across the table knocking over the bread bowl in the process and threw your arms around George’s frame.
  • “Of course I will! Oh my god, George. You’re making me cry like a bloody fool!”
  • George called his mother the second you got home. Molly was hit with a wave of shock at first. She gave both of you long speeches trying to inspect if the love was real or a mask to feign the hurt of bonding over the lose of Fred. She demanded both of you come home to the Burrow for the week so you did and the moment she looked into both of your eyes, it was clear as crystal.
  • “Good lord you are in love!”
  • It was hard for the rest of the Weasley family to accept at first. You understood completely since you had the same weary, unsure feeling as well but eventually they came to accept it. They were all happy to you and George happy once again.
  • But as happy as you were, small memories with Fred would constantly pop up.
  • Like one night when George and you were lying in bed together whispering softly realization would settle in and you’d comment,
  • “This is where he proposed. We were lying right here when Fred asked me to marry him.”
  • You knew how horrid it was to put this on George but you had no control. George thought about this all the time and was reminded of your relationship with his brother at every corner he turned.
  • You would then apologize feeling god awful for saying such a thing but George would hush you saying,
  • “It’s alright Y/n. Just because he’s not around anymore and because we’re together now doesn’t mean we have to pretend he was never alive or your relationship with him didn’t exist. He loved you, and I know how much you love him. I’m not upset- actually I’m more than thankful my brother managed to snag a girl like you. You two were perfect together and he will always love you just like how you will always love him. Fred… he is… was my brother and for a long time I thought he would hate me for me being with you and for a long time I thought my heart tricked me into loving you. That maybe it wasn’t love I was feeling but rather so the relationship my brother and I had and maybe because he loved you so much, being with you would make me feel less lonely about losing him but I know the truth. I love you, Y/n. Hell, maybe I always have but the important thing is I love you now and I will love you tomorrow and I will continue to love you years from now and that’s not because of Fred, it’s because of you and who you are. I love you.”
  • You two learned how to live your life no longer feeling guilty for the love you shared. Fred smiled down his heart warming at seeing his two favorite people in the world relying on each other and sharing a piece of their heart together.
  • He proposed to you in the middle of a busy work day right as you were restocking a shelf. The rest of his family were there to see. Molly, Hermione and Ginny cried a river while the boys patted George on the back. On your wedding day the tears were never ending, though happy ones.
  • You two eventually moved to London- kept the shop but decided you needed more room, well of course your growing stomach demanded that. One cold night in the middle of December George and you were blessed with the birth of your first son, Fred ll. He had a head of wicked red hair and a small mischievous smile toying on his face and you had never felt more complete in your life. George planted a kiss to your head muttering a string of ‘thank yous’. You knew in your heart this was exactly where you were meant to be.

- Daizy xx

attention | jjk.
  • summary: “It’s like she got my attention for just a second, just one glance and that’s all it took. And now she’s all I can think about.”
  • genre: fluff, angst and some smut because it’s college! au.
  • words: 10,260 words.
  • warnings: drinking mention. smoking mention. vomit mention.
  • authors note: based loosely on charlie puth’s song attention. i had lots of fun writing this! sorry it took me so long to post again, but i’ve been trying for a long time. i hope you have as fun reading it as i did writing it. also jiimin is highly featured in this fic. - mo

Originally posted by jjks

Keep reading

When Duty and Desire Meet Chapter 4

Art by @edendaphne , words by moi!

Summary: After their accidental kiss on Valentine’s day, both Marinette and Chat Noir have to deal with the emotional fallout of their actions.

Read on AO3
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~

Valentine’s Day Part 2

“So, let me get this straight,” Alya said, leaning back against Marinette’s desk chair and steepling her fingers. Beside her, on a little table-cushion Marinette had made, Tikki slept soundly, having already heard the story a thousand times over. “You’re in love with Chat Noir.”

“You already knew that,” Marinette groaned from her chaise, hugging a cushion to her chest and leaning back like a Freudian patient. Lord knows she was about three sentences away from a therapy-inducing hissy fit regardless, so it was probably prudent of her to be lying down in such a way. She was preparing for her inevitable breakdown that’s all. It was the smart thing to do.

And she rarely did the smart thing nowadays it seemed, so she really needed this.

“You’ve been in love with Chat as Ladybug for like a bajillion years,” Alya continued, ignoring Marinette as she continued to rehash pointless details. Details which made Marinette want to bludgeon herself to death with her cushion.

It was most likely impossible to do such a thing but she was never one to back down from a challenge. Death by cushion- she’d find a way.

“Yes. We’ve already established that,” she replied through gritted teeth, said cushion slowly creeping up to cover her face.

“But last night you kissed him by accident,” Alya said.

“Uh-huh.”

“As Marinette.”

“That is correct sir,” Marinette wiggled a finger.

“And he gave you a rose and kissed you back.”

“Tru’ dat.”

It was indicative of Marinette’s deteriorating mental state that she’d said “Tru’ dat”. She’d never said “Tru’ dat” in her whole life.

“I see,” Alya nodded a few times. The fact her tone had remained neutral the whole time was doing nothing to help Marinette’s poor nerves, and so she swung her legs over the side of her chaise, sitting up to get a better view of Alya’s twinkling eyes. A sense of dread settled in Marinette’s stomach. Alya’s eye-twinkles were never a good thing, at least when they were directed towards her.

I see?! Is that all you have to say? Seriously?! I thought you’d be freaking out right now, I mean I’m freaking out but then I ALWAYS freak out. You not freaking out is making me freak out harder! Can you please freak out with me? Join me in the freak out zone already!” Marinette blabbed, waving her arms and promptly dropping the cushion to the ground.

Alya said nothing, instead choosing to raise an eyebrow at her and cross her legs. At least she’d stopped steepling her fingers, Marinette thought gruffly.

After a short pause, Alya finally spoke, but her voice wobbled and strained unnaturally, her lips thinned in a way that was entirely too suspicious. “Firstly, stop saying freak out, secondly I’m not freaking out because this is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.”

She barely made it to the end of her sentence before she doubled over and descended into giggles.

It was in that moment that Marinette realised Alya’s peculiar behaviour had been due to her hiding her amusement, and she felt fully justified in yanking the cushion from its position on the floor and hurling it towards her supposed ‘best friend forever.’

Unfortunately, Alya dodged the fluffy projectile with ease.

“Come on, this is serious! I’m in hot water here!” Marinette cried, crossing her arms across her chest.

“When are you not though? Let’s be real,” the redhead shot back with a wry grin, twirling in the chair and kicking backwards to check her hair in the small vanity mirror on Marinette’s desk. The sight made Marinette relax a little. Alya only checked her hair with such scrutiny when she was seriously contemplating something.

Suddenly missing the comforting embrace of the cushion, Marinette flopped down once more. As her back hit the large pillows adorning her chaise, she let out a long sigh and all the fear, the panic, the fight, left her in one fell swoop. Only tiredness and uncertainty remained.

“How am I going to face him?” she whispered. Her head tilted towards her small, round window, to the afternoon sun beaming down in a total antithesis to her feelings. She wondered where Chat Noir was at that moment.

Did she cross his mind?

Over the years Marinette had asked herself that question more times than she could count. But it was different now. Now she wondered if Chat thought of her, of Marinette, not of Ladybug. Did he dwell on it- how they’d kissed? She had. She’d thought about it all night, until exhaustion had finally overcome her and she’d woken up late, cold, wanting something she could barely comprehend.

For years, she’d thought about what it would mean to kiss Chat Noir, Dark Cupid incident aside considering she couldn’t even remember it.

A small, involuntary whimper left her when she recalled the night before. The kiss had been an accident… at first. But the second she felt Chat’s lips press into hers was burned into her memory, playing over and over again. The moment he returned her kiss had ignited something dormant inside her and she felt raw, emotions exposed and unlocked, with nowhere to hide.

She considered her question again. How on earth could she face him as Ladybug, knowing what she did, knowing him the way he didn’t know he knew her (and god wasn’t that sentence confusing in and of itself)?

For God’s sake Marinette, it was a peck of a kiss at the most, pull yourself together!

“You’ll figure it out.”

Alya’s voice sounded lightyears away, so stuck was Marinette in her own musings. She jumped, a little sheepishly, and realised she hadn’t noticed Alya coming over to her until the spinning desk chair was pressed right by the chaise. The next moment, Alya’s hands were in her hair. Having thoroughly fixed her own short curls, she now concentrated on the silky strands of Marinette’s loose locks, braiding little plaits as if they were children at a sleepover.

Marinette let her. Two perfectly groomed heads were better than one.

“You think you can talk to him about it? As you I mean, not Ladybug,” Alya suggested, quickly clarifying her meaning whilst tugging the red ribbons loose from Marinette’s dark hair.

Snorting in response, Marinette couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Talk? To Chat? The very idea…

“Yeah sure, let me just tweet at him Ayla. Hashtag balcony make-outs,” she giggled, feeling a little better as her hair fell around her shoulders.

Foregoing the braids, Alya reached up and began tying something new into Marinette’s hair, tutting in disapproval. “Slide into the DM’s at least girl, I raised you better than that.”

They shared a laugh, settling into a comfortable silence as Alya worked on both sides of her hair. Marinette sat back and mulled over her options. Truth be told she didn’t have many. She couldn’t talk to Chat, after all it wasn’t likely he’d be back and she had no idea who he was in real life. The notion that she could talk to him as Ladybug, thus revealing herself, made her rapidly descend into a panic so sharp that she quickly pushed that thought to the side.

Really there was nothing else to do but call it what it was. A blip. A crazy alignment of stars which had given her a taste of everything she’d wanted for the past four years, a reminder that it was probably all she was going to get.

She tried not to let the disappointment settle in her bones, yet it was fruitless. Her chest ached as though a hole had been carved there.

Suffice to say it was a familiar ache where Chat was concerned, but it was bigger now.

“There. Done,” Alya pulled back, pleased with her work, and Marinette stood. Stepping over to the vanity mirror, she leaned down to check her reflection. “Matching colours for you and the bae,” she teased, eyebrows wiggling from underneath her rounded glasses.

Marinette threw the cushion at her again, feeling a smug sense of satisfaction as it smacked her right in the face.

At the very least, she had the Gaming Club that night, that would provide a very welcome distraction.

***

Adrien was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Which was ironic, considering he’d joined the Gaming Club to avoid that exact thing from happening.

“I can’t do this, I’m going to cancel,” he whimpered, hiding out in the bathroom a floor above their usual meeting place like the coward he was.

“So cancel,” Plagg shrugged, busy amusing himself with unfurling a roll of toilet paper- as per his usual hobby.

“I can’t cancel!” Adrien replied, horror struck as he gazed at himself in the mirror. His fingers gripped the sides of the sink so hard that his knuckles turned white. “Are you insane?!”

“So don’t cancel,” Plagg’s disinterested monotone was really starting to grate on him. “Honestly kiddo what do you want me to say and will it get me food faster?”

The resounding groan from Adrien’s throat was so despairing in nature that he was afraid he’s start rumours of a ghost haunting the building. He leaned on his elbows, burying his face into his hands.

Stupid. He’d been so, so, stupid. And reckless! Totally reckless. What had he been thinking?!

It was worth it though, a small, unchecked part of him thought. Adrien squashed it flat in an instant. After all there was no time to consider the fluttering in his chest, the pleasant swoop of his stomach. Now was the time to face the consequences of his actions. His incredibly foolish, totally moronic actions.

Because, although a part of him ignited, burned in the best possible way, at the memory of Marinette’s lips against his own, another part felt thoroughly ashamed. It felt like he was tricking her in some way. Granted that had never been his intention. His plan had been simple. Leave the rose on her balcony for her to discover. She’d never know it was him and be happy at the gift from a secret admirer. Obviously, things hadn’t worked out the way he planned, though he should have anticipated that.

When had things ever gone the way he planned?

He needed to apologise to her, as Chat, and he was going to do so that night in fact. But before that Adrien needed to pretend, he needed to lie, to Marinette. To the girl he loved. He needed to act like he hadn’t heard her soft sigh, felt the warmth of her skin and the taste of her cherry-blossom lips. He had to fake it, act like it had never happened.

He had to pretend he didn’t desperately want it to happen again.

The idea of being so fake made him ill, and so he placed his hands under the cold water tap to splash his face, allowing the iciness of the water to penetrate his senses and offer him some much-needed clarity.

It didn’t really work but it was the best he could do.

When he entered the Gaming Club, Plagg tucked securely inside his jacket pocket, he was relieved to see Marinette talking to other people. He could barely look at her, the meagre glimpse he’d gotten from across the room had sent his heart cartwheeling down the corridor and somewhere into the next arrondissement.

Not wanting to look suspicious, and fully admitting that he was stalling for time, Adrien wandered over to the desk where Nino was hooking up an old Nintendo console for one of their signature Mario Kart nights.

Mario Kart…Marinette…partners… sitting close together… oh no.

“Hey bro!” Nino chirped, offering Adrien a fist to bump, clearly not noticing how the blood had completely drained from his friend’s face. “Everything ok?”

“H-hey! Everything’s good!” The first lie of the evening. How could Adrien have forgotten it was a Mario Kart night? More importantly, how was he going to survive the evening now? Sitting next to Marinette, shoulders pressed together, watching her tongue poke out in concentration like it normally did? How could he concentrate on anything knowing how close he’d been to said tongue the night before?

Grow up Adrien! You aren’t some horny teenager and Marinette isn’t a prize to be objectified. Show her some respect already!

If Nino had thought Adrien’s reaction was strange, he didn’t show it. Together they settled into an easy conversation, Adrien helping his friend set up the old console. Focusing on such a menial task did wonders for his nerves. He was almost starting to feel normal. Almost.

Of course, just as he was beginning to relax, Marinette had to tap him lightly on the shoulder.

She might as well have given him a 1.21 gigawatt electric shock, given his reaction to both was about the same. If he’d been Chat Noir at the time, his superpowers might have actually propelled him through the ceiling.

“A-Adrien?” Marinette tilted her head, taken aback by his startled shriek. “Are you ok?”

Subconsciously, Adrien’s hand reached up and he clutched his chest, fingers burying into his jumper as if it would cure the frantic beating of his wild heart.

Because she was there, right in front of him. Marinette. The girl he’d kissed last night.

His eyes flicked down to her lips before he could help himself.

“Adrien?”

The second time her voice permeated through his cloudy mind, something snapped inside of him. It was as if he were a character in a film, once played in slow motion, now fast-forwarding.

“Hey!” he cried, louder than he intended, and the people around him turned to stare. He looked at her eyes instead, with far more intensity than normal, mainly because he was so intent on not looking at her lips any more. “Marinette! It’s my friend- Marinette! My good friend, I’m good! How are you? You good- good? Yeah, I’m good, friend. How are you? Did you have a good Valentine’s day?”

WHAT?! Adrien’s brain-filter kicked in far too late, but began screaming at him nonetheless. Why would you ask her that? WHY?! You know how it went! YOU WERE THERE!

Marinette blinked, and it proved just how far gone he was that he found her blinking adorable.

Her blinking.

“Umm,” she blushed, unsure of what to say and, honestly, Adrien couldn’t blame her. He sounded insane even to his own ears, and he’d just asked her something quite private. Actually, he was surprised she wasn’t berating him for it. Then again, she thought he didn’t know about her encounter with Chat Noir.  His words may have seemed innocent to her ears.

What a mess Adrien had gotten himself into, and it only seemed to grow worse with every bit of word-vomit he expelled.

(Was it bad that he felt a tiny bit of pride at her blushing? Probably. But he was going to hell anyway so he might as well enjoy the slow descent at least a little bit.)

Tucking her hair behind her ear, Marinette glanced baffled at Nino, whom Adrien could see shrugging from his peripheral vision.

But he couldn’t care less.

Because he’d just noticed her hair. Or, more specifically, how she was wearing it.

In place of the red ribbons usually tied into her loose black locks, were two green ones instead. Vivid green. Chat Noir green.

His brain collapsed in on itself.

“I’m good-good too.”

Marinette was teasing him. She was grinning and she had green ribbons in her hair and Adrien was going to DIE.

“Good! That’s good!”

Great. He’d always wanted to die sounding like a partially strangled mongoose.

Marinette, mercifully, took pity on him and waved a controller in his face, offering him a place in the first race of the evening. He sighed, relaxing a little, but only a little. Gaming was fine. It was a welcome distraction, as long as he didn’t sit too close to her he’d be fine (who was he kidding? Of course he was going to sit close to her). At least, when he was focused on blue shells and Bullet Bills his brain couldn’t fixate on the meaning behind Marinette’s ribbons, if there was any hidden symbolism he was missing.

Suddenly the thought of seeing her that night, of apologising, seemed that much more dangerous- forbidden almost. But he had to do it. He owed it to her as her friend. Even if that’s all he could ever hope to be.

Nino still hadn’t finished setting up, and a few other members began helping him in their eagerness to get started. As a result, Adrien found himself more alone with Marinette than ever.

They sat down on the floor, controllers in hands, side by side. Their shoulders brushed, like they always did.

Adrien swallowed, wishing he’d worn a t-shirt instead of the woollen monstrosity currently overheating him.

He was fairly sure he was going to lose the game spectacularly.

His fears were proved right when, later that evening, Marinette’s knee brushed against his own and he ended up sending Donkey Kong careening off the end of Rainbow Road.

It was going to be a long night.

***

For the fifteenth time that evening, Marinette called herself an idiot.

Because she was an idiot. An idiot for standing on her balcony, an idiot for hoping lightning would strike twice in the same spot, an idiot for following her heart…

Tightly wrapping her cardigan around her, she gazed out into the mocking skyline. The bitterness of the cold February air was nothing compared to the bitterness she felt building up like sludge in her chest. Bitterness in her fortunes, bitterness in her decisions, bitterness in her own feelings.

Distantly, Marinette thanked the stars that at least it wasn’t as cold as it usually was. She was thankful she had a tiny shred of dignity left at least- that she wasn’t freezing to death in the vain hope that Chat Noir would show up again.

She reached up, fingers brushing against her lips, and remembered.

Furious with herself, Marinette shook her head, as if the rough gesture would expel all the unwanted memories from her mind. Honestly what was she doing acting like a silly sixteen-year-old with a crush? Again?! It was desperate, obsessive, ridiculous-

And totally in character if she was being honest with herself.

She needed a break. A breather. A respite from her own whirlwind emotions regarding the man in the black mask, the man who’d held her heart for longer than she cared to admit to anyone- not even Alya.

Stuffing her hands in her pockets, Marinette let out one last frustrated sigh before turning on her heels and making her way back to her room. Maybe her room would be less of a reminder, would save her from her torment.

But, as usual, fate had other plans for her.

Because, of course, Chat Noir happened to be standing there as if he’d suddenly popped into existence.

The shock of seeing him sent Marinette stumbling backwards with a cry, tripping over a flowerpot and tumbling to the ground.

“Whoa!” Chat called, rushing forward to catch her just in time. One hand gripped her flailing wrist, the other pressed against the small of her back as he pulled her towards him.

For a moment, both of them froze in place. Chat’s fingers splayed across her back, and she briefly felt the edges of his clawed-gloves scratching gently against the fabric of her cardigan. An involuntary shiver ran up her spine before she could control it.

Chat’s eyes widened and he stepped out of their half-embrace with awkward, jittery movements, casting his face away from hers. “Sorry,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry I shouldn’t have startled you. I guess I have a bad habit.”

Bad habit huh? Marinette had one of those too.

The silence which settled on them both was heavy, uncomfortable, and borderline unbearable. It was laden with memories of the night before, swirling around them, echoing in their minds as though they were standing in an empty theatre, watching their mistakes projected on a screen with no means of escape.

Because it was a mistake… wasn’t it? She hadn’t meant to kiss him, he probably regretted kissing her back. That was why he was here- of that she was sure. To think he was here for any other reason was just asking for a broken heart.

But, oh god, it hadn’t been a mistake. Not to her. She couldn’t ever consider it to be such.

Finally, Marinette could take the silence no longer. Taking a deep breath, she fixed a smile onto her face, painted a picture of a girl who had herself together at least a little, and placed a hand on her hip.

“No rose tonight?”

Chat’s cat-ears twitched. He peered over at her with a puzzled frown before he realised she was teasing. Something dark crossed his eyes and Marinette forgot how to breathe. The look was gone before she could concentrate on it fully, and she found that he was smiling back at her.

“Err, n-no. No. That is- I mean- unfortunately not,” he replied with his signature bow. “But I do have something far more important.”

“Oh really?” Marinette squeaked, inwardly cringing at how lame she sounded. She’d wanted her voice to be sensual and teasing, but instead it sounded like she’d inhaled a ton of helium instead. Clearing her throat, she tried again, arching her eyebrow for good measure and all the while thrilled at the fact that he was simply there. Chat Noir was there. He’d come back to her. “What’s that?”

“An apology.”

Marinette’s blood ran cold.

“About last night,” Chat continued, shuffling from foot to foot, completely unaware of how Marinette’s body, mind, and heart had seized up all at once. “I feel like I made a terrible impression. I- well- I’m not the type of guy to do… what I did.”

From the depths of despair and panic, Marinette felt the faintest hints of confusion. She latched onto it. Confusion was better than rejection.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice small and vulnerable, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Well I’m not really a playboy or anything, despite what the media likes to speculate about me. I don’t kiss strangers on balconies. I guess, I didn’t want you to have the wrong impression about me.”

When Marinette hung her head, Chat felt a wave of regret wash over him. He’d practiced what he wanted to say, over and over again but it never seemed enough to fully explain himself- not without revealing to her that he was Adrien Agreste and he’d been lying to her this entire time. He was too afraid of the ramifications of that- so he needed to end this now- before he hurt her.

Damn it, he’d gotten so close though. So close to knowing what they could have- what they could be.

But it was a fantasy. Chat Noir was a large part of him, but it wasn’t all of him. The person he was behind the mask was locked away from Marinette, was a separate entity in her eyes.

Who was he fooling? They couldn’t be together. Not like this.

He had to try harder as Adrien and if she rejected him he would simply pick up the pieces of his broken heart. He would respect her, be her friend, move on, and certainly not use Chat Noir’s hero status as a means to trick her into loving him. She deserved better, deserved the world, even if he wasn’t the one to give it to her.

That’s why he had to leave. Right now. Being here, being this close to her, was crumbling his resolve. Every cute gesture she made was another step closer to his damnation. He had to leave before he said or did something he’d regret, before his principles were lost to the wind.

“It was Valentine’s day. I guess… it’s easy to get swept up in the romance of the day, right?” Marinette said. She was smiling, but the sparkle in her eyes was dulled somehow. Once again Chat’s attention was drawn to the green ribbons in her hair, as she quickly tucked a few strands behind her ears. He couldn’t bring herself to speak as she grew distant, deep in her own thoughts, and her shoulders raised. “But if we’re being honest Chat, I was worried you’d see me in a bad light too. Like- I mean- I’m not the kind of girl who kisses random celebrities and I’m certainly not the type to blab to the press about it either.”

“I didn’t ever think you were,” he uttered, swallowing thickly, and a little bit of sparkle returned to Marinette’s eyes. Her cheeks turned pink again.

Chat felt his claws digging painfully into his palms.

“Well… that’s a relief. I mean I always admired you,” Marinette stammered out the confession before she meant to, quickly covering her blunder with half-truths. “You know you saved me once- from an akuma. You didn’t notice me at the time, and it was years ago, but I never forgot.”

Chat felt as though he’d been physically struck by her words.

He’d saved her? He’d saved Marinette? And he hadn’t noticed her?!

“I wish I’d seen you,” he said before he could help himself. The rest of his desires remained unsaid, as new possibilities, new what ifs, formed in his mind- like an alternate reality.

Chat inwardly cringed. No way in hell was he going to get any sleep that night.

“I wish you’d seen me too,” Marinette admitted.

Chat’s hand was halfway to hers before he yanked it back, his heart beating wildly, his mind screaming at him to leave. The pull was almost tangible, magnetic, drawing him closer to her. It was dangerous, and he needed to leave.

“I hate to be a sundae, but I have to split!” he laughed, high and fake, all the while cringing at what was perhaps the worst pun he’d ever made. And that was saying something.

Marinette didn’t say anything, but laughed once.

Ok, she thought, maybe she was ridiculous, but he was equally so. Maybe that’s why she loved him so much.

She watched him make his way to the edge of the balcony and something stirred inside her, the raw feelings which had sparked when their lips had met woke from their slumber, and she reached out to touch his shoulder.

“Chat?” her voice matched the soft tremors echoing through her body, and she tried to remember to breathe. She couldn’t let him leave like this, she’d been so close. “How about…one last kiss?”

Chat stilled, statue-like. His lips parted, and Marinette panicked.

“I mean!” she corrected, face turning to flames, “I mean sorry that was dumb- so dumb. It’s just that I- I liked that kiss and I thought- I don’t know what I thought- but I wanted to-”

His lips crashed into hers, and the rest of Marinette’s sentence was lost forever.

Chat kissed her, kissed her with a resolve thoroughly destroyed and a heart so indescribably owned; owned by her, possessed by her, consumed by her. His hands were frantic, and Marinette matched him in every way as they pressed into each other. Her fingers gripped the back of his head, tangled in his hair, and pulled him closer.

Like he needed an excuse to get closer to her.

The pair of them moved apart to breathe, great shuddering breaths, and then their lips were together again- as neither of them could stand to be apart for a moment. Chat’s fingers slid from her hands to grip her hips, a primal, dark part of him triumphant as he heard a moan slip from Marinette’s mouth.

They stumbled backwards, towards the wall, and Chat pressed her against it, hands roaming her sides- never going too far- always listening to her reactions. Desire coursed through him, a need to please her, to make her moan again, without pushing too far.

She must have sensed him falter, sensed his caution, as a frustrated hum rose from the back of her throat, almost like a purr of her own. Her hands moved from his hair, gripping the bell around his throat, and she tugged him down towards her, kissing his neck.

Chat was having a hard time not passing out from that alone, but then she rolled her hips, making it so there wasn’t a sliver of streetlight between them, and he was fairly certain he died and was reborn on the spot.

Dangerous was the word whispering in his mind, the word he was ignoring as his hands cupped the sides of Marinette’s face, tilting her head back. She arched into him again, countering his movements like a dance, and he gasped.

It felt too natural, too perfect… almost…familiar.

Dangerous he thought as his tongue flicked against her lips.

Dangerous- he thought as her mouth opened and he was rewarded with another moan.

Stop. Stop before you can’t, he pleaded with himself as Marinette’s hands wrapped around his shoulders, her fingernails scratching against his neck.

He didn’t stop.

They kissed for what seemed like hours, passion moving from an explosive force to one of slow-burning sensuality, settling into a rhythm that was far too natural, but neither of them could bring themselves to mind.

It was a long time before Chat could bring himself to leave her, to stop kissing her. It was addictive, intoxicating, and filled with promise. For months his heart had been starved, yearning and wishing, and now it was real. Their kisses were real, her affections were real.

And so was her voice, ringing out in the coldness of the night, in answer to his question, “May I see you tomorrow night, Princess?”

There was a pause, both of them treading on thin ice, ice which slowly creaked and groaned beneath their feet.

“Yes,” she breathed, and the ice shattered, plunging them both into unknown depths.

(art to follow)

Stuff from the Falsettos: In Conversation event!

William Finn, James Lapine, and Stephanie J. Block blew my mind several times yesterday and I wanted to share some cool things I learned about the show!

tl;dr: Falsettos beat Spiderman, Bill Finn and James Lapine should have their own sitcom, aND THE BANANA BELTING MOMENT WAS INITIALLY AN ACCIDENT

  • Packed house in Westport Country Playhouse. It was quite ironic because the event was free, but everyone there was hella rich. Hella. I know this because they started thanking donors at the beginning and there was one family there who had just donated a million. And literally not a single person was a POC. My middle-class Asian ass felt awkward.
  • It was Bill Finn, James Lapine, and Stephanie J. Block, moderated by Andrew C. Wilk (to whom we all owe our lives because he’s the executive producer of Live From Lincoln Center)
  • He told us cool stuff about filming Falsettos. There were ten cameras. He said that bringing all these huge cameras in was like your drunk uncle coming to a party
  • According to Andrew, when it first opened in cinemas, apparently in some markets FALSETTOS BEAT SPIDERMAN?????
  • YESSSSS FALSETTOS THAT’S MY FANDOM
  • Even Andrew couldn’t believe it
  • He was like it doesn’t sound true but I’m going to say it because it feels good to say it
  • And, as I mentioned in a previous post, he confirmed the PBS airdate as October 27 and he said that Falsettos might even have a second run in cinemas.
  • Andrew brought the three in. Audience went wild.
  • He asked them what the main theme of Falsettos is. Bill Finn says that it’s about what it means to be a man (which it seems that the Tumblr fandom has really hit upon in all the analyses, so good job Tumblr!!!)
  • And they talked about casting Stephanie J. Block. Bill said that she came in and auditioned with Holding to the Ground (“which isn’t a very good song,” says Bill) and he had never heard it sound that good
  • Stephanie has a very subtly poetic way of talking about things and it’s really moving?? She described Trina as a woman who constantly has “a well of tears” (she gestures at her throat) right here.
  • I’ve been there.
  • Andrew mentioned how her life is very different than Trina’s–she’s happily married with a beautiful daughter–and he asked her how she accessed Trina’s character
  • She talked about how she had taken a few years away from theater since her daughter was born. When Finn and Lapine called her about Trina to see if it’d be right for them and for her, she felt very insecure and scared going back to performing. The way she put it, in her state at the time, every emotion was at her fingertips. But she drew on this insecurity to play Trina. She said she listened to Falsettos and felt that she knew Trina.

Originally posted by trinaweisenbachfeld

  • Bill Finn is a CHARACTER. Cracked the entire audience up. He communicated almost exclusively in mumbled one-liners
  • When James Lapine was explaining the whole March of the Falsettos and Falsettoland Act I-Act II thing, Bill Finn was like, the first act’s not as good as the second act
  • Excuse me, Bill, both acts are masterpieces
  • So the format of the evening was that they would show a clip from the film and then talk about it, which was so cool. Watching the three of them watching the film was surreal, but one part was even more surreal
  • I’ve never seen that many elderly people in a room laughing hysterically over dick jokes
  • Partway through the event, Bill Finn started complaining about the fact that there were so many Act I clips, and Lapine was reassuring him that the first act was still good
  • I’m like HELL YEAH IT IS
  • He and James were hilarious together; they just bounced off each other and said such complimentary things about each other’s work and they would have full conversations with just their eyes
  • Okay, so we watched I’m Breaking Down, of course. Then Stephanie and James Lapine talked about the process of staging that scene. That was a gold mine.

Originally posted by trinaweisenbachfeld

  • According to James Lapine, the boobs were all Stephanie’s idea
  • James Lapine REALLY wanted to have a dummy bloody finger. He wanted to have Trina chop off a piece of her finger and there would be blood spurting and the audience would be freaking out over whether the actor actually was injured. He was very attached this idea and stuck to it until the very end. Everyone else was like James pls no. Eventually, it had to go because of the possibility of fake blood staining the costumes or set pieces
  • Stephanie warned us that she was about to make a pun but that she had to because it was so good, and then she said “the finger was cut”
  • And she was super proud of herself and grinning at the audience
  • James Lapine tried to high-five her, but she was too happy to see
  • (She finally noticed and high-fived him back)
  • The iconic banana belting moment was an accident????
  • Okay okay so this is a GREAT STORY
  • So y’all already know all about how it’s the actors themselves moving all the set pieces throughout the show. Stephanie says that it was Anthony Rosenthal who had to do most of the moving
  • So if any of the banana pieces fell, it was “poor Anthony” who had to clean them up
  • One day in rehearsal, sure enough, some banana pieces fell
  • Stephanie felt bad and didn’t want to make Anthony clean it up, so she picked them up and freaking SHOVED THEM INTO HER MOUTH
  • BUT SHE FORGOT THAT SHE STILL HAD TWELVE BARS OF THE SONG LEFT
  • When she finished, James Lapine was like O.O do you think you could do that often
  • The rest is history 

Originally posted by upsettoland

  • I have so many Bill Finn anecdotes that I don’t know which to share
  • Like I said, Bill would mostly communicate in mumbly one-liners
  • Example: we were about to watch This Had Better Come to a Stop, and Andrew asked Bill to set up the scene for the audience (they explained all of the context for everything in case some audience members hadn’t seen Falsettos)
  • Bill: Whizzer is misbehaving and Marvin gets mad.
  • Andrew (laughing): Is that it?!
  • Bill: Yes.
  • (Lapine swooped in to give a more in-depth explanation)
  • But!! Bill would sometimes suddenly speak up and say something so incredibly thought-provoking 
  • They were talking about the unlikability of Marvin, and Bill talked about how a professor he had at Williams said that Jane Austen made Emma so unlikeable so that we could learn to like her
  • And Bill said that he listened
  • We finally got to Act II (Bill was very happy about this) and we watched the baseball scene. 
  • Apparently, James had said to Bill that they needed a group number with everyone in it. At that point, Bill had already written the entire baseball scene in his notebook except for a few final chords, and he was like oh here you go I already wrote one.
  • James: When were you going to give me this?!
  • Bill: When you needed it?
  • And Bill talked about what he referred to as the “handball scene.” James apparently staged the thing before Bill even wrote it.
  • James: Bill, that was racquetball.
  • Bill: Oh, I thought it was squash.

Originally posted by htmlarry

  • BILL GOT JAMES LAPINE SO CONFUSED ABOUT THE LESBIANS FROM NEXT DOOR
  • Andrew was asking about the Lesbians from Next Door and Bill was like, the lesbians are actually from In Trousers
  • And James had this wait hold up facial expression and he said, I didn’t even know this. Who were the lesbians???
  • And Bill was saying Ms. Goldberg and the high school sweetheart and by then, James Lapine looked like the galaxy brain meme
  • James was like, but that’s just the actors, not the same characters, right?!
  • Bill said yeah they’re completely different characters and James looked very relieved
  • James: We’re great together. On our own, we’re a disaster.
  • Stephanie was talking about how she feels like as a young woman, she didn’t have the life experience to appreciate the complexity of Bill Finn’s story and lyrics:
  • Stephanie: “I liked to tap dance and put on red lipstick and make people happy with musical theater.”
  • And suddenly Bill Finn yells, “ME TOO!!!!!!!!!!”
  • Imagine the kind of person who could write both “BITCH BITCH BITCH BITCH FUNNY FUNNY FUNNY FUNNY” and “this here is love when we’re talking face-to-face,” and you’ve got a pretty solid idea of Bill Finn
  • I know I haven’t talked about Andrew Wilk enough, so I’m going to reiterate here that we all owe our lives to this man. And he was so sweet and charismatic. I love this man. 
  • Near the end, they talked about us!!! The Falsettos fandom! Stephanie said she wants to call us kids, but she knows we’re teenagers and people in our twenties. She lovingly called us a cult and talked about all the banana memorabilia she has received and talked about how the cast sees pictures of us going to the cinemas in 80′s clothes/dressed as the characters. Stephanie thinks it’s so great <3 
  • Stephanie says that she’s not sure she’ll ever do a show as important as Falsettos again. She says there are so many wonderful shows, but in terms of “important”? It’s hard to find.

Originally posted by musicalsaregreat

  • The final scene they showed was Jason’s Bar Mitzvah and What Would I Do? and it was too much. You could hear people crying softly.
  • The last half hour was Stephanie doing a mini-concert (accompanied by the Falsettos conductor/pianist Vadim Feichtner!) and when she belted, I thought the back wall was going to blow off
  • She sang a bunch of gorgeous songs, interspersed with her talking about what these songs mean to her, but among them were “Don’t Rain on My Parade” and Holding to the Ground” (FIGHT ME BILL IT’S ONE OF MY FAVORITE SONGS EVER) and “Defying Gravity” (Wicked is the show that got me into musical theater, so this was really special to me) and I cried
  • An absolutely beautiful evening.

Originally posted by nikolaevna-romanova

  • Post-script: without announcing it or anything, they very quietly set up a signing with Stephanie in one corner. I spotted the table coming in, so I went to check it out afterwards, and SURE ENOUGH THERE SHE WAS. 
  • I was literally the second person to get there and there was no line behind me because people hadn’t realized yet. She signed the hand-out I got at the cinema (asking me who she should make it out to and addressing it to me in her beautiful swoopy handwriting!) and I told her I went to see Falsettos six times and she said, “I miss it every day, (my name). Every day.” And I asked her very hesitantly whether it’d be okay to get a picture with her, and she instantly said, “You ready?” Hence the selfie I posted last night. I CAN’T BELIEVE IT.

That was my day in Falsettoland!! I hope this stuff was interesting :) I love this show so much and I just wanted to share the cool stuff I learned!

11 | You’ll Never Walk Alone

BTS + GOT7 X READER [GANG!AU]

WORD COUNT: 4,522

series warnings: mature themes, strong language, violence, substance abuse, eventual smut. this chapter contains graphic content such as violence

Originally posted by bcshiro

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His || Jungkook || 0.10

Member: Jungkook x Reader

Type: Angst, Fluff, Smut.

Teaser | 0.1 | 0.2 | 0.3 | 0.4 | 0.5 | 0.6 | 0.7 | 0.8 | 0.9 | 0.10 

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Liveshow (Dan x Reader)

Character: Dan Howell (danisnotonfire)

Fandom: Phandom/Youtubers

Categories: Reader Insert, Female!Reader

Title: Liveshow


A/N: I got this idea from this post, from the @imaginedanandphil blog, which is really good! :D Also, written in Dan’s POV!!


Summary: Dan is in the middle of a liveshow when Y/N randomly decides to be loud on the other room and distracts him. Until she ends up joining him, with unexpected results.


For fuck’s sake. Y/N was being so loud in the other room, she was probably playing a game and having a rage fest because of it. Or fangirling about something. One thing or the other. Maybe even both, something to do with feels.

But since I was in the middle of a liveshow and couldn’t exactly do much at that moment, I resolved to just roll my eyes and grin at the camera with a resigned chuckle.

“Y/N is being so noisy” It was kind of distracting to hear her, even if I tried to focus on the people on the chat. “Rude…”

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some stories just don't have a happy ending (Stiles Stilinski)

Originally posted by ragazzosarcastico

“y/n stop!” Stiles screamed from his jeep but it was hard to hear in the pouring rain.

I didn’t pay attention, I just kept walking. Stiles pulled his jeep over, climbing out and running to catch me.

“stop and let me talk!” Stiles said roughly yanking my arm so I would stop walking.

“there is NOTHING you can say to change things Stiles.” I said yanking my arm out of his grasp and continuing to walk forward.

“I don’t even know what this is about?” Stiles yelled running a hand through his hair.

I tried to think back to the exact moment when things changed. Eveyrthing and everyone was different.

“you won’t even tell me?” He asked coming to stand in front of me.

“no, I don’t need to hear anymore of your lies!”

“y/n talk to me!“ Stiles said more desperate now.

“talk to you? why huh? Its not like you talk to me! I had to find out everything from Theo!” I screamed angry tears streaming down my face.

“Theo? what did he tell you?” Stiles asked grabbing my hands in his.

“you know what he told me.” I said glaring at him and ripping my hands from his.

“y/n I didn’t mean to, it was a mistake okay.” Stiles said taking a step back.

“a mistake that didn’t have to be made!” I screamed pulling my hair, completely frustrated by now.

“yeah well y/n some people have to make mistakes okay! Some of us are human!” Stiles screamed standing directly in front of me again.

Never once has he brought up the fact that I was different. I discovered my abilities when my name was on the deadpool list. I was called a djinn, I could create powerful hallucinations in people’s minds. Stiles was there for me, helping me to learn control that much power. He even went as far as taking a bullet to the shoulder when someone was shooting at me. Along the way we fell in love but now everything was falling apart. I felt a few more tears fall down my face.

“y/n i’m sorry I didn’t mean it that way.” Stiles said a few tears rolling down his cheeks as well.

I walked around him continuing to walk away but this time he didn’t stop me, he just let me go. I arrived at my house freezing and soaked from the rain.

“i’ve been waiting for you.” I heard a familiar voice say from a dark corner of the room.

“well here I am.” I snapped flipping on the light switch.

Theo sat in a chair across the room, his claws extended. He laughed as he stood up sauntering his way over to me.

“what’s wrong? trouble in paradise?” He asked with that same stupid look on his face.

“you were right, he admitted to it.“ I said slamming my bag down on the table.

"he did?” Theo asked almost as if he were surprised.

I gave him a look warily. Yesterday Theo told me he saw Stiles kissing his ex-girlfriend Malia Tate.

“why do you seem so surprised?” I asked raising my eyebrows.

“I just didn’t know if he’d own up to his mistake.” Theo rushed out.

I sighed walking up the stairs to my bedroom. I could feel Theo on my heels. On my bedside table was a picture of me and Stiles. I grabbed it throwing it across the room. The glass shattered in pieces, but that wasn’t enough for me. I picked up the picture, slicing my hand on a piece of glass in the process. I ripped the picture until I couldn’t rip it any further.

“feel better now?” Theo asked standing in my doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.

I was breathing heavily, all my anger flowing through me.

“that right y/n get angry, anger makes you stronger.” Theo said clapping his hands together.

my blood was boiling at his encouragement.

“you know who you should really be angry at? Malia. She kissed him too. You should show her who is really in charge.” Theo growled coming to stand by me.

I thought about his words for a second. At this point I was so angry I was considering what he said. I was probably the most powerful of the pack, next to Lydia and Parrish. I could totally incapacitate her, make her feel pain, my pain. That was exactly what I was going to do.

“lets go.” I growled clenching my fists.

Theo and I walked out to his truck climbing in. I knew where she’d be, she’d be with the pack.

“you know the pack may try to stop you.” Theo said glancing over at me.

“than I’ll take them out too.” I growled still feeling my blood boiling.

“i’m sure you will.” Theo smirked returning his eyes back to the road.

We pulled in the school parking lot. I didn’t take anytime in getting out and rushing to the library.

“Malia.” I growled seeing her standing with Scott, Stiles, and Lydia.

Malia gave me a confused look before placing her hands on her head. She let out a scream of pain as I entered her head. Her eyes turned completely white, experiencing the hallucination that I was making her see. I brought her back to the night of the car accident, I made her see herself ripping her family to shreds. She fell on the ground passing out from the pain.

“y/n stop! what are you doing?” Scott said rushing over to me and grabbing my shoulders.

I directed my powers at Scott, getting into his mind now. I made him see Allison dying again, but instead of the oni killing her, he did. Scott growled bringing his hands to his head. He followed the same actions as Malia did.

“stop y/n this isn’t you!” Lydia cried.

I turned my attention towards Lydia now. She tried to fight me off but I still got inside her head. I made her see herself getting attacked by peter over and over again.

“Y/n.” Stiles said stepping closer.

“stay back.” I growled getting out of Lydia’s head.

“y/n babe do you remember what you told me, huh you told me that you didn’t want to be a monster. I promised you that I wouldn’t let you. I’m keeping my promise.” Stiles said stepping even closer.

I could feel the tears slip down my cheeks as I thought back to that night.

The assassin was quickly gaining on me and Stiles. I took a deep breath turning towards the assassin. I tried to control my powers, getting in his head. He screamed placing his hands over his head.

“please stop.” The guy begged falling to the ground.

I didn’t stop. I didn’t have control over it.

“y/n stop.” Stiles said placing his hand over mine.

“oh god stop.” The guy screamed again.

“Stiles I don’t know how to stop.” I cried.

Stiles turned me around placing his lips on mine. I kissed him back feeling like my heart was about to explode. I felt myself get out of the guys head and focus on my kiss with Stiles.

“Y/n look out!” Stiles screamed pushing me out of the way.

The guy pulled the trigger of the gun shooting Stiles in the shoulder. I ran over knocking the gun out of his hand and punching him in the face, knocking him out. Stiles was gripping his shoulder in pain. I ran back over to him taking his head in my hands.

“Stiles i’m so sorry.” I said feeling the tears fall down my cheeks.

“It’s not your fault.” Stiles said placing a bloody hand on my cheek.

“yes it is, I’m a monster.”

“y/n you’re not a monster, okay I won’t let you become one either. I promise.” Stiles said kissing my lips again.

I believed every word he said.

I snapped out of my thoughts feeling the tears fall down my face again.

“Stiles.” I breathed.

Stiles ran over taking me in his arms while I sobbed.

“Stiles I’m so sorry I was just so mad about you kissing Malia and..” I started but was cut off by Stiles.

“I never kissed Malia.”

“you didn’t?” I asked confused.

“No, y/n I killed Donovan okay? I didn’t cheat on you. Killing Donovan was an accident, I would never intentionally hurt you, y/n remember I love you.” Stiles said putting a hand on my cheek.

Originally posted by admireforever

I was about to respond when I heard clapping from behind us.

“damn y/n I almost had you killing the whole room.” Theo said laughing.

Stiles put a protective arm around me.

“you lied to me so I’d hurt my friends. Well too bad your plan didn’t work.” I growled through clenched teeth.

“you see I thought about that, that’s why I always have a back up plan.”

Before I had time to react Tracy Stewart had scratched me and Stiles, paralyzing us with her kanima venom. Theo walked over pulling a jar out of his pocket.

“you see these y/n?” Theo asked showing me the contents of the jar.

“These come from a powerful creature who could take others power. They let me take power. Y/n I want your power.” Theo said pulling out the talons from the jar and putting them on his claws.

“if you touch her I swear to god.” Stiles spat from beside me.

I felt my heart beat pick up as Theo got closer.

“Theo don’t!” Stiles begged.

But Theo had already made up his mind. He bent down sticking the talons in my stomach. I felt the power and life being drained from me. I coughed up blood as Theo stuck the talons in deeper. Theo sucked in a sharp breath as my power surged into him.

“Theo stop!” Stiles said screaming.

“awh come on Stiles at least you’ll know she died loving you.” Theo said.

I felt my vision starting to get blurry, and my eyes start to close.

“y/n hold on okay, I’m gonna help you.” Stiles said but I didn’t hear him.

the last thing I thought about before my eyes closed was Stiles. I never got to tell him that I loved him too. But I guess that’s the way it goes in life. Some stories just don’t have a happy ending.

anonymous asked:

can i prompt touch starved tony who loves any and all physical contact he has? someone puts a hand on his shoulder? amazing! someone lens into his side at movie night? the best! someone actually hugs him? omg! the avengers start to notice and perhaps do something about it?

Tony is a puppy. He soaks up affection like a sponge. (I threw in some Bucky because I wanted sleepy, helpless Tony.) Look out for under the cut!

You can find this story on my Ao3 here.


Natasha noticed first. She had a leg up on everyone though, having been sent to spy on him. She’d noticed when Pepper would reach out to casually touch him—a pat on the shoulder, playing with his hair, sliding her foot up his calf—and Tony would look ecstatic. At least, as ecstatic as an emotionally constipated person could look. At first she’d thought it was flirting, and Tony was happy to finally have it reciprocated.

But then Jim Rhodes had stopped by and swept Tony up into a hug that brought his feet off the ground, and Tony had made a happy little noise that had… done something to her heart. While Rhodes was visiting, it seemed like they were always touching, whether it was an arm over Tony’s shoulders or Tony pressing his feet against Rhodes’s thigh.

Happy was touchy-feely with Tony, too. Even after boxing matches, when they were both bruised and sometimes bloody but always smiling, they’d lean their shoulders together, or Happy would be escorting Tony somewhere and keep a hand on his elbow. Tony didn’t even fuss, even though usually he would bitch about not needing anyone’s protection.

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anonymous asked:

Can I request an imagine with RFA + Saeran with a very short MC? Probably like 4'10-5'0 ft. This could be NSFW but doesn't have to be! :) thanks!

Anonymous said:

Hello there ^^ I would like to please request the RFA reacting to meeting the MC for the first time, but she’s a lot shorter than they expected. I wonder what that would be like since I’m 4'11 (about 150cm) and almost 20, so I feel like I look younger than I actually am T^T Thank you!

ok bUT CAN YOU BELIEVE WE’VE DONE HUNDREDS OF REQUESTS BUT NOT SHORT MC?? I swear most blogs have it, especially one that’s been around for a while like us;; I can’t believe it myself. Anyway, this will be SFW.

I made it more like mini-fics than a reaction because I can’t imagine anything other than, well, surprise and coming to terms with it. I’m sure you guys have read tons of short MC headcanons elsewhere already ahaha ^^

(Note: let’s assume MC has passed the age of puberty, otherwise being short before the end of puberty isn’t too surprising, you know?)

–R.I.

Request Killing: 7/30


Reactions to a Short MC

Yoosung

  • Out of everyone else in the RFA, he’d be the most mature and least judgmental about this, surprisingly
  • Honestly, he’d just be so excited to even meet you, he wouldn’t care how tall or short you were, or how you looked at all
  • Doesn’t even realize that you’re short until Seven starts making jokes about it
  • Yoosung would defend you first before looking at you more carefully and realizing that you were shorter than the average person your age, but he still wouldn’t care
  • “Don’t worry too much about it,” he comforts you, flashing a cheerful smile. “Being short isn’t a bad thing!”
  • Gets angry for you every time someone makes a comment about your height
  • Never teases you
  • Sure, sometimes it was difficult to find you in a crowd, but that gave him an excuse to hold your hand
  • He also loved getting things for you whenever you couldn’t reach
  • He just enjoys your company and treats you with respect regardless—just because you’re short, it would never mean he should respect you any less. At least, that’s what Yoosung believes

Zen

  • With him being as tall as he is, he thought he would be able to spot you in the crowds immediately at the party
  • Apparently he was wrong. He swore he’d be able to recognize you even though he’d never seen you before, and yet it’s been an hour since the party officially began and he hadn’t seen anyone that reminded him of you
  • And then he’d feel a poke on his back and turn around to find… no one
  • Huh?
  • You tugged at his sleeve, making him look down. Oh.
  • Though he hadn’t been the one to find you, he did recognize you immediately, and a big smile stretched across his face. “MC!” he exclaimed in glee, reaching his arms out to hug you—only to realize he wouldn’t be able to reach you unless he lowered them
  • Well… He was nearly an entire foot taller than you, after all.
  • Doesn’t understand why he feels a wave of pride rushing through him when he realizes how adorably short you are
  • But he loves it.
  • Uses you as a head rest, his arms hanging loosely around your shoulders
  • Asks to compare your hand and feet sizes, even though he knows he’s bigger than you in every way
  • Jokingly flirts as your hands are pressed together for comparison, “If you were a little taller, this could’ve been that much more romantic… I would’ve been able to put my forehead against yours, you know~?”
  • Loves teasing you about your height because you flash him an adorable attempt of a scary look every time
  • But he hates when someone else makes jokes about your short stature, and defends you every time

Jaehee

  • At first, she didn’t think that short person awkwardly trying to catch her attention in a subtle way was “MC” but realized that it really was you when you introduced yourself
  • Extremely surprised that you’re shorter than her
  • She thought she was short already (especially since she was surrounded by the tall RFA men, but Jaehee is actually average height)
  • She feels like she’s your older sister
  • Tempted to tease you, and beams innocently as she gives into the temptation
  • “MC~ Can you help me get this, please~? I can’t seem to reach it,” she said, pointing to something on a shelf that she could clearly reach if she stretched her hand
  • Would be taken aback when you basically climbed the shelf and returned with the item in hand, acting nonchalant about it
  • After the initial high of teasing you was over, she’d just talk to you like normal
  • But every now and then she’d find herself smiling because you look adorable and she can’t help but fawn over tiny things
  • Uh, not that she would say you’re tiny, of course…

Seven

  • He doesn’t hold himself back from squeezing you into a hug the first moment he sees you
  • Seven had already seen how you looked in the photos he’d found when he researched about you, but seeing you with his own two eyes made him realize just how short you really were
  • A goofy grin was on his face as he spun you around in his arms
  • “Why didn’t you tell me you were so cute and cuddly~?” he asked, pouting as he continued to hold onto you. Seriously, he had no qualms about being so touchy despite having only just met you
  • You’d stick your tongue out at him for calling you cute—gosh, you weren’t a little kid!
  • But he’d continue to treat you like one, even after the party. You would’ve thought the hype about your short height would’ve worn off soon, but it didn’t.
  • He’d use you as an arm rest
  • Lifts you up and spins you randomly
  • Tells you to look both ways when crossing the street, every time, saying that other people wouldn’t be able to see you because you were so short
  • Uses you as a teddy bear, cuddling you every chance he got. (But always ‘just friends’ though, according to him)
  • Pretends to forget your age all the time and asks when your 7th birthday will be
  • Teases you so much, you almost regret ever going to that party…
  • The next time you meet up with him, you were definitely wearing heels. It wouldn’t increase your height all too much, but it sure would let you stomp on his toes. Maybe then he’d fall down in pain. Who’s short now, huh?

V

  • He couldn’t help but worry about you the entire time at the party, nervously following you everywhere
  • Eventually, you’d be fed up that he just kept following you and not saying anything
  • He didn’t answer when you demanded why, averting your eyes as he thought to himself that you were short like a kid, and he wasn’t sure if he could trust you by yourself… There were so many people at the party, who knows when someone could bump into you?
  • And as you stood there, arms crossed, waiting for his response, that was exactly what happened.
  • A lady knocked into you by accident, causing you to trip and fall into V’s arms
  • It was then that he noticed just how short you were, because he couldn’t help but compare your height to his own
  • Before he knew it, the words had left his lips, “So much shorter than I thought…”
  • He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but when you whacked at his arm, he realized his mistake
  • Feels guilty for insulting you and stays far away for the rest of the party
  • Over time he’d get used to it
  • Would pet your hair a lot
  • Looks out for you as if you were his younger sibling
  • Hugs you as a greeting, but always ends up lifting you off the ground by accident
  • Apologizes profusely every time
  • But he never learns from his mistake honestly
  • At least he treats you to a drink after, which you liked because you could spend time getting to know this mysterious man better :)

Jumin

  • “Are you lost, miss?”
  • That was what Jumin had asked when he first saw you at the party, only to realize that you’re the MC he always talked to in the chatroom
  • His eyes widen slightly as he realizes that you’re much shorter than he imagined
  • He did expect a height difference since women were normally shorter than men, but he had expected you to be around Jaehee’s height
  • Still, he didn’t comment about it, instead greeting you with a professional smile as he asked how the party was
  • You roll your eyes at his formality, telling him to drop the act since you were friends, after all
  • Jumin would have trouble stopping himself from glancing at you constantly, still focused on your height
  • Also worried that he’d lose sight of you
  • Questions your age over and over, even though the answer doesn’t change
  • Until he asked for the 60th time and you dryly reply that you were a few centuries old and shrinking. “Happy now?” you sigh
  • It was then that Jumin realizes his rudeness, and smiles sheepishly
  • He puts an arm around you so that he doesn’t have to keep looking at you to make sure you weren’t lost, holding on tightly
  • But then he feels a strong tug on the tail of his tuxedo, and he turns to face you, only to realize that his arm was around your neck
  • “…Oh. My bad. I thought that was your waist.”

Saeran

  • He had been hiding out near the bathrooms (where hardly anyone passed through), waiting for you to pass by so he could take you away
  • Well, he was lucky that you’d been dared to drink as much as you could tonight (Seven had been teasing your alcohol tolerance because of your height, saying you couldn’t possibly hold your alcohol with such a stature…)
  • You were running to the bathroom, trying to make it to the toilet to throw up, because… well… you’d had waaaay more drinks than your body could handle
  • Unfortunately, Saeran hadn’t been aware of this.
  • I say “unfortunately” because he wouldn’t have grabbed you so quickly, had he known. And then you wouldn’t have vomited all over him.
  • SHIT!” he swore, wrinkling his nose at the stench. But a job was a job, and he had to escape quickly before anyone noticed you were missing. So, out the window he went, leaving behind a trail of bile. This was probably the most disgusting (and obvious, honestly… someone’s going to notice the vomit and lack of its culprit) kidnappings Saeran has done in a while.  
  • He was still surprised that you were so short, though, as he carried you. He laid you gently in the back of the car, and you fit just perfectly thanks to your height. He bit back a smile, finding it amusing. Then he proceeded to drive all the way back to headquarters.
  • Although he had been ordered to take you to the Saviour immediately upon returning with MC captured, he couldn’t help but feel intrigued by you… so he decided to lie down beside you, even though he wasn’t supposed to.
  • He held you in his arms, relishing the feeling of your body against his own, secretly comparing how much shorter you were in comparison to him.
  • He gently lifted your hand, smiling at how much smaller yours looked when he held it. You were so much shorter and smaller up close, appearing so innocent… 
  • And Saeran couldn’t help but relax while holding you like this, gradually drifting off to sleep.
  • Well, he would only have this night with you, after all. He felt a bit regretful, but he knew he couldn’t go against the Saviour’s desires… whatever her intentions would turn out to be.
Spiderboy And The Invisible Girl

Pairing: Peter Parker x Inhuman!reader

Summary: You’re the invisible Avenger, both figuratively and literally, as an accident when you were a little kid caused you to gain the power to turn invisible. Even when you’re not invisible you manage to blend in, until Peter Parker joins the team.

Warnings: Language (goddammit Tony)

A/N: Tagging @skymundane477@takenbymyfandoms​ and @pattypotterpevensie​ bc I know you guys love Peter as much as I do xx

Originally posted by crazyneoncupcake

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anonymous asked:

ur post about fic & racism in the supergirl fandom really got me thinking (especially about my own biases so thank you) but also like, how there’s this incredibly pervasive but subtle new form of racism I haven’t seen b4 in other fandoms? Like on one hand u have this loud condemnation of how racist monel is & how he was a slave owner blabh blah but no corresponding attention given to the existing Black characters. 1/4

I get wlw not wanting to write m/f fic but a lot of the fandom doesn’t reblog (or make) any of the gifsets, they don’t meta for him they don’t call for more screen time for Mehcad. Same for M’gann. SO many posts talking about how awful monel is compare him to Lena and strangely don’t mention the Black female character who also came from an oppressive society to become a hero? And there are like, idk, 4 people? Who write or post wlw fic with M’gann in it? 2/4

Same with Maggie. A huge segment of fandom decided Floriana is white (even tho hollywood clearly won’t cast her in roles for white women) so they use that as an excuse to exclusively stan the very light skinned white wlw. And the way it carries over to the characters, like, okay Flo is white? but Maggie is absolutely treated like a woc in how parts of fandom aggressively ignore her & find ways to demonize her character while overtly supporting lighter skinned characters ¾

And that same part of the fandom doesn’t ever seem to create content for Lucy or Vasquez either. IDK this isn’t something u can probably explore with stats but ur post really got me thinking and it just feels really gross now bc I see all these posts condemning racism but there’s still this extreme perpetuation of privileging white characters at the same time? & I haven’t seen this particular trend in fandom b4 4/4

Oh, anon, this made my day. I have a bunch of notes waiting in a doc to address the whole Mon-El thing with regard to the racist undertones and the rhetoric used by the show to frame his storyline, and I will do my best to write it before the season comes back again, because I genuinely think they tried to aim high and just … missed completely. (But I make no promises because my thesis defense is on Tuesday.)

To your first point re: fandom attitudes – I was surprised in the early half of S2 when so many people came out of the woodwork making posts in the main tag like “wait, why did they get rid of Kara/James??” because, oh right, nobody acted like they cared for almost twelve straight months. If y’all were so okay with this ship, where were you to acknowledge its social significance when it was canon? Where are you now? Why hasn’t there been an outpouring of tweets week after week at the execs and the writers for sidelining an interracial couple in favor of what we’re getting, especially since the storyline literally handwaved away human trafficking and slavery as minor plot points?

Not only that, when there’s unrealized potential for a non-canon ship there is typically an outpouring of fic in response, and while there’s been a statistically significant amount of new Karolsen fic in S2 because it’s pretty easy to top zero percent, the writing there is not keeping pace with any of the other dude-involved pairings. 

And you’re right, anon: it is not possible to prove anything with stats. HOWEVER, thanks to the addition of these new characters for S2, I *am* at the point now where it’s possible to see correlation between character race and fan engagement with different pairing choices. And the bias is there, whether it’s in the het pairings, the femslash, or even the m/m pairings. The whole reason I started tracking fic outputs in the first place was that any attempt to have this conversation last year devolved into yelling and finger-pointing because “you have no proof!” that racial bias is a thing. Except, yanno, all the POC who live with it daily saying that it’s a thing. Well, congratulations y’all: your choices leave digital footprints behind that are pretty easy to follow and chart for everyone to see.

This isn’t actually a new problem, by the way – racism and preferencing of white pairing happens a lot, in almost every fandom. The only difference maybe is that I’ve experimented with quantifying it, which is not something that people usually do when they study fandoms or fan behavior.

It pains me to no end that M’gann has been so overlooked, because her story has just as many dark character beats to it as Lena’s, if not more, plus the added bonus of her sharing a sense of “otherness” with Kara in a way that few other people can. And there is no way the disinterest in that pairing isn’t about race, because there are a whole bunch of ships from S1 between white women who’d never even met each other in canon that have more romantic fics than M’gann/anyone.

And the nonsense about Floriana, which I’ll remind everyone again was started by a white girl, had a demonstrable chilling effect on interest in Sanvers as a pairing. Like. I can actually show that on paper. And you’re absolutely right with what you said above, which bears repeating: Maggie is absolutely treated like a woc in how parts of fandom aggressively ignore her & find ways to demonize her character.

There’s also a treatment of Floriana herself that reminds me uncomfortably of how people went out of their way to demonize Naya Rivera’s personal life whenever she reminded the world she was black instead of just “very tan.” And a lot of the rhetoric people are using to talk about Floriana’s racial heritage is almost verbatim the same as what you’ll find on white supremacist discussion boards about Italian people. I’d love to think this is an accident, but I’ve made some people pretty angry for pointing this out in the past, so I suspect it’s at least partially deliberate.

Lucy was another case that drove me insane, for two reasons:

  1. The vast majority of femslash fans flat-out ignored her as a romantic choice even though there were a whole lot of good reasons to ship her with either Kara or Alex, and a whole lot less negative reasons not to. (And it’s not like Supercat was already dominating the scene before Lucy’s character was introduced. That ship only became popular after the movie Carol came out during the winter hiatus of S1.)
  2. People had the same fight last year about whether or not Lucy counted as a WOC and ultimately insisted that the answer was no. But then people kept on ignoring her anyway like somehow dubiously legal boss/employee relationships, potential treason, and incest were more logical bases for attraction.

Also, to the people who have been like “oh yay we could’ve had Dichen as Maggie, a real WOC” like somehow this would have made the fandom love her more – you’re full of shit. If you mean that, why has there been so little fic about Dichen as Roulette? Like, last year there were a whole bunch of shipfics featuring Livewire. There was Kara/Siobhan. And yet … no dark scenarios of Supergirl/Roulette? No Alex ones? There were even a bucketload of those for each Danvers sister + Max Lord, and this fandom isn’t even that into dudes. You’re telling me no one is interested in this kind of hero/villain dynamic with the Asian chick and somehow that’s not also about race?

tl;dr I suspect that a decent chunk of this problem is the result of subconscious bias, but some of it’s not. And what’s really sad about it is that, for all the talk on Tumblr about representation being important, we’re really doing no better as media producers than Hollywood when it comes to race. If anything, we might actually be doing worse.

To Misunderstand #4

Daddy Juju… oh boy… You’re like, the king of being clueless sometimes- so how are we gonna fix this up for you and MC?

IM SO SORRY IT TOOK FOREVER AND ALL YOU GUYS GOT WAS THIS. 

In true Jumin fashion, this fic moves from different times and different perspectives, so hopefully it’s not too confusing because apparently that’s how I always seem to see/write Jumin! A hot, jumbled mess. 

This will contain

1)    Slight mention of NSFW

2)    Trigger Warning: Abortion mention.

3)    *Si-Abeonim means Father in law (on your husband’s side…), Appa means father and Eomma is mother

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Not So Shore

A ‘Mortals Meet Percabeth’ fic, with a twist!!
10k words



“Hey, Kelly?”

Kelly looked up from her biology textbook, blinking at her best friend Olivia, who was definitely not doing the chapter review questions they’d been assigned. “What?”

“Do you think there’s something weird about Percy Jackson?” Olivia asked.

Kelly followed her to gaze to where Percy was sitting at the back of the room, leaning back in his chair. He wasn’t doing the review questions, either - instead, he was staring into the fish tank behind his desk. Kelly couldn’t see his face, but his dark hair was ruffled up and he was wearing his AHS hoodie with ‘Jackson’ emblazoned across the back of it.

“What do you mean, weird?” she asked, turning back around to Olivia.

Olivia shrugged. “I mean, just… there’s something strange about him.”

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Stole My Heart

Summary: The five times the universe appeared to be against you when you wanted to ask Peter out.

Word Count: 2,622.

A/N: After reading @bovaria‘s fic, “The Five Times Bucky Picks You“, it inspired me to write something along those lines with Peter instead. Although, I decided to do my own spinoff and give it a slight twist. Hope you enjoy :D

Originally posted by spiderholland

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Return to the Isle: Part 2


Request: Can I have a harry hook x reader where the reader is carlos’s twin sister and goes to auradon with them and then also comes back to rescue Ben. When they’re on the isle she is captured with ben by harry because they know how much Carlos loves her and that will help convince the vks to bring the wand. Then can you do fluff where she ends up falling for harry eventually. I hope this makes sense haha. Also, I love your writing!!

Warnings: Fluff, kidnapping, fluff, mentions of abuse, and did I mention fluff?

Words: 1,587

A/N: Due to much demand, here is Part 2 of Return to the Isle! And since she asked, @chloe-skywalker  you have been tagged!

‘Oh no.’ [Y/N] thought to herself as Harry Hook, the only son of Captain Hook, grabbed her by her arm and began to forcefully pull [Y/N] towards Uma’s ship, him being far too strong for her to be able for her to pull herself free of his grip.

“Hook, let me go!” [Y/N] pleaded, doing her best to pull herself free of his grip, which only seemed to cause him to tighten his grip even further before he got annoyed and picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder as though she were nothing more than a sack of potatoes.

“Love, quit struggling. You’re seriously making this difficult.” Harry said nonchalantly, as though he wasn’t completely kidnapping you. “Uma!” Harry called when he stepped onto the ship, the turquoise haired girl turning around upon hearing her name and grinning when she saw what Harry had brought.

“Perfect!” She shouted happily, coming over to Harry and [Y/N] as Harry sat her down, grabbing some rope to tie her to a pole. “Now they’ll have no choice but to bring the wand. Mal will want her little boyfriend back, and Carlos will be willing to do anything to get his sister back safely. Hook, you are a genius!” Uma said, bouncing up and down similar to a child who just learned she got what she wanted for Christmas.

“He’ll never hand over the wand!” [Y/N] argued, although she already knew that they would. With it being a fake wand, there was no reason for them not to hand it over right away. Although she had to make it seem as though it were going to be the real one.

Uma rolled her eyes at [Y/N]’s argument, laughing as she tapped her on the cheek. “But he will. Your brother has always been soft when it comes to you. It’s pathetic, really…Hook, make sure she doesn’t cut herself free somehow. You know how the De Vil kids are.” Uma said before leaving to go attend to some final details.

After a few minutes of sitting in silence, Harry spoke first, which surprised [Y/N]. “You look good.” He said simply, polishing his hook, to which [Y/N] scoffed.

“Like you knew what I looked like before I left.” She said, looking away and towards the inner part of the Isle, her wondering if Carlos has noticed her absence yet. Surely he had. Carlos always noticed when something was wrong when it came to [Y/N].

This time it was Harry’s turn to scoff. “Please, of course I did. You and I had every class together up until high school, remember? We used to play together until your mother got angry at you that one day.” Harry said, letting out a small sigh after he thought a little bit. “I’m surprised you came back. I thought you hated it here.”

“I do.” [Y/N] said, looking at him. “But I love Carlos. If he comes back, so do I. He’s all I have. Wherever he goes, I go.” She said, sighing some as she looked down at her feet, then Harry sighed and stood up, looking over the water before looking back at [Y/N], something else in his eyes that she couldn’t quite name, although it was there for just a moment before the same cold look went back to his eyes.

“Whatever, [Y/N]… whatever.” He said, going behind her and tightening the ropes before leaving, and [Y/N] laid her head back against the pole to think, her eyes closing since that would help.

A million thoughts raced through her mind. A lot of them involved trying to escape, trying to find a way to warn Carlos and the others, or even just a way to convince Uma and the others to just let them go. But no matter what she thought about, her mind drifted back to Harry, trying to decipher the look in his eyes.

Disdain? No, that wasn’t it…[Y/N] knew Harry’s look of disdain. Anger? That definitely wasn’t it, Harry’s angry look could cause even a mummy to drop dead. It seemed more…hurt? Yeah, that was it. But why would he be hurt? They never were friends, not since they were small children, when their bond was rivaled only by the bond [Y/N] had with Carlos.

~Flashback~

“Harry!” A young [Y/N] screamed with laughter, Harry standing above her with his hand forming a hook with his index finger.

“Aye! I got ye now, lassie! Prepare to walk the plank!” A six-year-old Harry said with an overly exaggerated pirate accent, even for him. Although Harry didn’t look threatening, his hair was in his eyes and the fake eye patch he wore was too big for his face so it kept sliding down.

“Please no, Captain Harry! I’ll do anything! I’ll join your pirate crew if you’ll let me live!” [Y/N] laughed loudly as she pretended to try to shield herself, laughing as she tried to ‘plead’ with the young pirate.

“A girl can’t be a pirate!” Harry said, still pretending to be a pirate just like his dad, grinning as he stood tall, one of his front teeth missing from an accident he had had while trying to play with a sword too heavy for him.

“Yes a girl can!” She argued, looking around and picking up a stick and holding it like a sword, which made Harry laugh again so he joined her, the two of them starting their own little sword battle, jumping around and chasing each other through the streets of the Isle, their laughter echoing through the crowd.

Suddenly when [Y/N] turned around, he wasn’t there. “Harry?” She called out to him, looking around and lowering her imaginary sword. “Harry!” She yelled again, jumping when suddenly someone grabbed her, turning around and seeing Harry standing there, a mischievous grin on his face, as per usual. “Harry Hook! Don’t do that, you scared me! I was worried!” [Y/N] scolded, hitting his arm with the stick and crossing her arms as he laughed.

“Oh come on, [Y/N], it’s just a bit of fun! Why were you worried? Do you looooooove me?” Harry teased with a laugh, grinning a wide grin before he looked over when the shrill voice of Cruella De Vil rang through the crowd.

“[Y/N] DE VIL!” Cruella screamed, and fear immediately went through her young body as she watched her mother approach her, fury in her eyes. “You didn’t take the trash out again! This is the third time this month!” Cruella screamed, grabbing her young daughter before looking at Harry, realizing what had happened. [Y/N] ditched chores to play.

“Momma, I swear I-” [Y/N] began to say, her imaginary fear replaced with the all too real version, her mother being the one person she was truly afraid of.

“You are never to see this boy again, do you hear me? You’ll be sorry if I ever catch you with him again!” Cruella shouted, shoving her young daughter away from the young pirate, who watched on in shock as his only friend at the time was taken away.

~End of Flashback~

In that moment, she realized just why Harry was hurt with what she had said. [Y/N] had Harry along with Carlos. He was her friend. The memory had even jogged a little something else… [Y/N] remembered that she had a crush on the son of Captain Hook during her childhood. The years of isolation from him having caused her to forget her feelings. But now, along with the memory of a dear friend, they have returned.

But [Y/N] knew she wouldn’t be able to talk to Harry, not yet…not now. She had to buy her time.

The rest of the evening went by in a blur. While she was glad to be reunited with her brother again, she stopped to look at Harry before she ran after the VK’s. “You guys go ahead…I have some business to take care of.” [Y/N] said to her friends, looking up at them and then looking at Carlos, who had a clear expression of worry. “Seriously…I’ll be fine. I’ll meet you at the limo in five minutes.” She assured him before going to find Harry.

It took less than thirty seconds to find the sopping wet pirate, he was feverishly trying to dry off his vest. “Hook!” [Y/N] said as she approached him, and he looked at her in confusion, opening his mouth to say something when she, for the first time in her life, was bold about something. She pressed her hands to his cheeks and kissed him, pulling away after a moment. “I remember…I remember.” She said softly as she looked at him.

Harry at first was confused, then it hit him like a ton of bricks; giving her the all too familiar grin from their childhood as he put his hands on her waist, pulling her close and returning her kiss. “I was beginning to wonder, love.” He breathed against her lips.

The pair stood like that as long as possible, before she had to pull herself away. “Come to Auradon with me…please. You can be so much more than this.” She whispered as she looked up into his ocean blue eyes, able to see the wheels turning in his head before he grinned.

“The Isle was getting boring anyway.”

Consolation

Hello again! I wrote this in about half and hour and didn’t proof-read or anything, so it may be a mess, but hopefully it’s alright? This is a Peter Parker story about the reader having an awful day and Peter being there to help make it better. I got a request for an imagine about Tom comforting an upset reader, but I just changed it to a Peter fic, so I hope that’s okay!

Consolation

    Peter and Ned rushed down the hallway, late for class as per usual, each boy faulting the other for the possible detention slip that loomed over their heads. Truthfully, they were both guilty parties.

Ned and Peter had gotten hungry after gym class and snuck off campus during their lunch break to grab sandwiches at the shop a few blocks down. They’d been so absorbed by greasy fries and vanilla malts that they had forgotten to check the clock. To make it to physics on time, the boys had needed to run down the street, which proved very difficult seeing as the streets were always crowded with too many people. You could barely bend over to tie your shoe without someone getting in your way and vice versa.

“This is so annoying!” Peter whined, “I can’t deal with a detention today, what if Mr. Stark needs me, or like, I don’t know, I’ve got to somehow figure out how to multiply myself so I can be about a thousand places at once so I can fight all the city’s crime.” He bent over for a second to wait for Ned to catch up.

“Dude, shut up,” Ned wheezed, “I think I’m just going to take the detention slip, I’m over this.” He braced himself with a harsh hand on Peter’s shoulder. “This is like taking gym all over again.”

“No, Ned, we’re so close! I’m sure that we can drag ourselves a few more feet.” Peter encouraged his best friend, while the pair moved sluggishly up the stairs.

Ned opened his mouth with a witty retort in mind, when Peter smacked a hand over his chest to steady him. “Do you hear that?” Peter mumbled.

The boys strained their ears and heard the soft pitter patter of heels clacking against the floor above them. The longer they listened, the more amplified the clicks became. “Shit,” Ned cursed, “we’re so getting caught. I am not down for detention right now.”

The boys fumbled on the stairs, unsure of which direction they should run in when the noise traveled nearer and nearer to where they stood on the stairs. “Maybe we’ll just get a firm talking to for being late again?” Peter said, doing his best to think positively in the face of defeat.

Ned groaned, slumping his shoulders, as he too accepted the fact that he and his best friend were about to be completely vanquished by whatever school staff member was about to bust them for their constant tardiness.

Peter moaned and leaned back into the banister, taking out his phone to text both Aunt May and Mr. Stark that he would be unavailable for a few more hours after class. The boys both lifted their heads up to meet the furious gaze of the teacher that never came.

Instead, the young girl that breezed past the boys was one of their friends, and Peter’s biggest crush yet. When Liz Allen hadn’t worked out, Liz had made sure to introduce Peter to her friend, who was in the same grade as Peter and Ned. She even shared more than a few classes with the pair of them.

She stunned Peter on a daily basis. Whether it was her ability to quote Shakespearean literature like it was a simple recipe that she’d learned over the weekend, drink eight lattes a day, manipulate chemicals to do as she pleased, or her capability to be the kindest person he’d ever met, Peter was always left breathless. She was nice to everyone, even to the people who didn’t deserve it and had never flaunted her beauty or brains in a way that hurt a classmate intentionally. Peter didn’t think he had ever heard her utter a mean word about someone in his entire life, even when people would say horrid things to her.

She comforted Peter on his lowest nights, even without being near him. She had a soft voice and he imagined cuddling up with her in bed, while she played with his curls and listened to him cry about the level of stress that he was under without ever making fun of him. Besides that, she was easily the most beautifully luminous girl in Peter and Ned’s entire high school.

Although, right now, she was wiping her eyes and trying to cover up the sobs that drifted past her lips. Peter’s eyes widened and he looked to Ned and then back at the girl that he desperately desired to make his own, and then back at Ned.

“Go,” Ned urged, pushing Peter in an attempt to steer him closer to her. “Go or it’ll be too late. She likes you and you like her, stop being a baby, Parker. Tony Stark can’t do everything for you.”

A few weeks ago, a rumor spread that she had gotten a little too tipsy at one of Liz’s parties and had accidently, and quite loudly, revealed that she harbored a massive crush on Peter Parker. Peter had been quick to brush off the rumor, claiming that it was only started to embarrass her, remained unaware that the rumor wasn’t just a rumor, and was an actual fact.

Before Peter could take offense to Ned’s statement, something clicked in his brain and he was tearing down the stairs, trying to make his way to her before she reached the school’s front door.

He called out her name just as her hand closed over the door’s handle. She turned, brown mascara smudged beneath her eyes and waved, her lips quivering into a soft smile that she aimed at Peter before she pulled open the door and walked through it.

“Shit,” Peter mumbled, breaking into a full run in hopes of getting to her before she drove off.

Her day had been so horrible, no matter how she tried to look at. All she wanted was for Peter Parker to wrap his surprisingly muscular arms around her frame, pull her onto his lap, and allow her to cry into his neck while he whispered soft words of reassurement to her. She logiticied that Peter hadn’t reciprocate her feelings, seeing as Liz had been his crush since day one, no matter what Liz said, so she would have to settle for her warm, pink bed, a tub of ice-cream, and a Harry Potter movie marathon.

Peter called her name out once again, nearly tripping over his own two feet to stand in front of her. “Wait,” he wheezed, all of his words crawling back down his throat when he looked upon her face.

Fresh tears glimmered in her eyes, her rosey lipgloss had been disturbed, her lower lip trembled and Peter was almost lost for words. He had never seen her look so sad before and he decided right then and there that he would find the person who did this to her and destroy them, spidey suit or not.

“What’s the matter?” Peter said gently, moving to hug her close, but then dropping his hands because she hadn’t said that he was allowed to touch her and Peter wouldn’t ever want to make her heart hurt more.

In reality, the girl knew that she was probably being over-dramatic and silly, but she couldn’t help it. Everything that she had worked so hard for was collapsing in on her and there was nothing she could do about it. It wasn’t even one in the afternoon and she had suffered through three anxiety attacks, and was currently on the brink of another one.

She opened her mouth to respond to Peter, but when she couldn’t make her mouth move past a strangled sob, she simply shrugged her shoulders and catapulted herself into Peter’s arms.

Peter reacted automatically, cradling the small of her back to him while he rubbed soft circles onto her spine. “It’ll be okay,” he whispered into her floral smelling hair, “tell me what I can do to fix it and I’ll do it.”

They stood like that for a while, Peter slowly rocking them back and forth, while he supported the meager weight of her shaking frame in his arms. He spoke to her tenderly, telling her that he would help her make whatever was hurting her okay before she lifted her head to meet his eyes.

“Peter, I’m going to get you into trouble.” She sniffled, “you should be in class, I know that you love physics.”

“If you haven’t noticed,” Peter said, raising his eyebrows, “I don’t give half a damn about physics right now, you’re the only one who brought it up. I want to be where you are so I can help.”

She prayed that she wouldn’t regret what she was about to ask Peter, “do you wanna come home with me? We’re both going to get detention if we stay out here for much longer. I promise I’ll compensate you with warm chocolate chip cookies and coffee,” she trailed off, refusing to meet Peter’s hopeful gaze.

“Okay,” Peter said, “but I don’t know if you should drive right now,” he pointed to her shaking hands. “I don’t want you to get hurt by accident.”

She nodded her head, planning on ordering an uber and just leaving her car at the school.

“If you want, I can drive us home, I swear I know how.” Peter offered, a cherry blush spilling over his cheeks.

The girl dug through her purse before retrieving her car keys. “Okay, Peter. I trust you.”

Peter smiled at her before taking hold her keys and leading her into the parking lot. He couldn’t believe that she still looked so pretty after having just sobbed into his sweater.

“Peter?” She asked softly, tugging at his sleeve to make him look at her. “Thank you for being so good to me.”

He shook his head and leaned in, and before he could stop himself, he pressed a loving kiss to her forehead. Peter’s eyes widened, but before he could have his own panic attack, she flashed a real smile at him and pulled Peter forward, through lanes and lanes of parked cars.


Gasoline [unfinished WIP, KHR]

Going through my folders and posting what isn’t going to be finished or is dropped, so I can get it out for good and focus on what I do want to write.

Warnings for: born-a-female-Tsuna, mentions of attempted marital rape, forced marriages, drug-induced death and general mafia behavior.

Summary: Prior to marrying Iemitsu, Nana was a very accomplished black widow. Tsuna shouldn’t have to follow in her footsteps like this, but Vongola has left her no choice in the matter. So she will have the mafia fear her as she once feared them, and she will survive.

———–

Prior to marrying Iemitsu, Nana Sawada went under a different name, and was a very accomplished black widow. She slipped poison in drinks and drugs where nobody would think to look, put needle marks in skin and occasionally knives in the backs of men who treated her like an object rather than a person.

Tsuna never wanted to learn such lessons. She wanted her marriage, when it finally did happen, to be the once-in-a-lifetime event her mother gushed about having with Iemitsu. After the mafia came and ruined her life, she still clung to feeble hopes that maybe she could still get that.

But it isn’t to be.

Timoteo intends to make a statement, one way or another. Unfortunately, even if a woman should rule as Decima, she must still have a husband. And Xanxus isn’t about to touch the woman that froze him once upon a time. So he’s reached out beyond Vongola to allied families, and they’ve sent their best to him. And now he’s made a choice, and once again he’s forcing it on her.

Tsuna can lie to everyone but herself; she’s afraid. Terrified, in fact. The thought of a stranger touching her makes her want to vomit. The thought of this man breathing in her general vicinity makes her want to vomit, actually. She shakes and quivers and hides beneath her bedcovers, and for once, Reborn says nothing. He doesn’t scold her. He slides a mug of hot chocolate topped with enough whipped cream to give her diabetes her way, wordlessly tipping his hat down as he leaves the room. It doesn’t take someone of Reborn’s calibre to know the man doesn’t like this any more than she does. But he’s her tutor, not her father (no matter how much she wishes otherwise some days), and so he can only stand back and watch this trainwreck.

Maybe that’s why she confides in her mother. Why when everyone is gone, Tsuna goes downstairs, starts to speak, and then bursts into tears. Everything comes rushing out, every lie about the mafia she’s ever told, and she begs her mother’s forgiveness for the lies, and Nana gives it readily, wrapping arms around her and letting her cry into a warm shoulder. The tears eventually leave, and Nana sits her down, gets her a glass of cold water, and begins to tell her a story.

It is not a nice story.

But it teaches Tsuna what she needs to know to survive. Because Nana was once a prominent black widow that nobody could ever track down. Her husbands died of natural causes - all the autopsy reports say so - and while people had their suspicions, there was no evidence for them to pin her with. And after a time, she’d learned how to disguise herself, going from one husband to the next.

Now she cups Tsuna’s small hands in her own, and drops the mask she uses around everyone. “Tsunako, do you want to learn how?”

Tsuna can’t say yes fast enough.

———–

Her first husband dies to poison.

It’s tradition, her mother insists, when she shows Tsunako had to make a clear, tasteless, odorless toxin that’s practically untraceable once its inside the system. It’s homegrown, and Nana is a perfectionist at teaching it. She has Tsuna make batch after batch after batch until eventually she gets everything perfect. And then she gets a dropper and begins to administer one drop to Tsunako a day.

One drop doesn’t kill her. It makes her feel like shit, but she muscles through it, because a true poison user is protected against whatever they brew. Bianchi is the same way - she can eat whatever she makes and the poison won’t kill her or even make her queasy. Nana is immune to whatever toxins she injects into the veins of others, and eventually Tsuna will be too. They have time - the wedding isn’t due for a while, and nobody is going to force her and her husband together until then.

Tsuna sees Reborn watching them, once, but he vanishes too quickly for her to ask him if he’s going to tell anyone what she’s doing. She doesn’t ask afterward, because there’s a look in his eyes that’s… proud. It makes her feel warm, and when he drills her on her lessons later on, she doesn’t complain, driven by her twin desires to survive what’s coming, and make the man that has become her father in so many ways proud.

Spring passes into summer, and the wedding is held. People flock from all over to see it, and Tsuna is dressed to the nines and sent out at the alter. Her husband is a tall, weedy-looking young man who looks far too smug. She hates him at once, and his oily touch doesn’t remedy that.

The poison is not in his drink, but in her lipstick, and when they kiss (him pressing far too close, too hard, disgusting) she feels a sense of predatory satisfaction. The next morning she wakes up and screams, which brings the bodyguard outside the door running. She plays the part of the horrified wife, discovering her husband’s cold, lifeless body in bed. They rush the body away, and bring her to Reborn to keep her safe while they go question guests and comb through the drinks menu.

Reborn eyes her fingernails, but his eyes flicker upwards when she taps her lip in pretend thought. There’s a ghost of a smile across his face, but it fades once the door opens and Timoteo enters, looking both furious and terrified. He questions her if she feels ill, or if anything felt off at the wedding. She answers no to both, wringing her hands and playing up the ‘Dame-Tsuna’ act to full effect. It works, and the old man leaves.

“You’ve been hanging around Bianchi too much,” Reborn murmurs, not moving his lips, and Tsuna has to bite her own to hold back her return of its not Bianchi I’ve been spending so much time with lately, but you already know that.

————–

The death is passed off as a heart attack a week later when no results come up showing foul play. Tsuna doesn’t even get to play the widow in mourning before Timoteo’s given her another husband, this time in the form of a 40 something lech that’s like every old man out of a hentai. The old man gropes her and laughs too loudly and tries to sneak a hand up her dress to cop a feel, but Tsuna smacks his hand away and smiles the same smile her mother does at home even as her stomach rolls and her anger burns a hole through her heart.

He tries to take her no less than four separate time against various walls, each time growing more and more impatient and annoyed when Tsuna darts away. The poison is in her nails this time, and when he finally grabs her too hard she scratches him ‘on accident’ and then demands he leave her alone, she doesn’t want to be touched. She closes herself off in her room and locks the door. Her new husband pounds on it and snarls demands, but she puts her headphones on and ignores him until eventually he gives up and goes away.

This poison is far more slow-acting, and it doesn’t strike until early the next morning during breakfast. Bianchi and Reborn have taken her out to a nearby cafe for breakfast, citing ‘comfort food in these troubling times and a female shoulder to cry on’. In reality Bianchi wants to know her methods and trade tips, and Reborn pays for a tiny cake and congratulates her on finding sneaky solutions to her problems.

“I thought you’d go running off and tell Timoteo,” she confesses to her tutor. Reborn gives her a look.

“I’ve been around this business long enough to know how these things go, Tsuna. Trust me, I don’t judge you one iota for what you’re doing. But you should probably change your methods here shortly.”

She nods, having already planned to use a needle on whoever the unfortunate third soul is. They finish breakfast and head home, laughing and talking about whatever strikes their fancy, and when they arrive home its to a Timoteo that looks far older than before. “Grandfather? What’s wrong?”

He gives her a pitying look. “There’s… there’s been another death, my dear.”

She drops to her knees in shock, Bianchi by her side instantly, hooking an arm around her shoulders and murmuring comforting words as she ‘helps’ Tsunako up. Reborn’s face is shadowed, but Tsuna can see the sparkle in his eyes from her position. “What happened?” she asks in what she hopes is the right tone of voice.

Later, Reborn toasts her in the privacy of the bedroom, and Bianchi congratulates her on another job well done. This death is passed off as a choking accident, as apparently the man had been shoving as much food in his gullet as possible when the poison had kicked in. Nobody had managed to get to him in time to prevent the ‘choking’, which just made the victory all the easier.

Stop Talking - MariChat Reveal Fic

(A/N): Because Chat Noir called Ladybug Buginette and I bet he knows so have an angsty reveal fic. >u>

Word Count : 2477

It had just slipped out of his mouth. Her name. Her real name.

It had been in the middle of a fight. He had only meant to warn her – to stop herself getting impaled by a giant paperclip. He had meant to say Ladybug. Because she didn’t know and he hadn’t meant to tell her because she had always respected his privacy –

But the paperclip-

“Marinette!”

She hadn’t said anything at the time. She had dived out of the way, summoned Miraculous Ladybug and saved the day. She hadn’t so much as glanced at him. He had hoped that perhaps she hadn’t heard.

But she was late to their patrol. Ten minutes.

Ladybug was never late. Marinette was late to school. She was late to practically everything. But Ladybug wasn’t. She was always on time.

A shadow finally appeared, a streetlamp like an orange halo around the shadow of the pigtails. She was wearing a coat, but he knew it was her. From her steps and silhouette. He knew her better than he knew himself.

“Evenin’ m’lady,” he said it as cheerily as he could – as though he hadn’t noticed that she was Ladybug.

“Why did you call me Marinette?” a voice whispered. As though the fight had been seconds ago instead of two days ago.

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