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softquietsteadylove · 6 months

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Pleaseeeee we need more from the ghost file AU! It’s underrated and funny!

(as always, credit must be shared with @taran-chan who co-authored the first entry and shares custody of this AU with me)

"Hey, Thena?"

"Yes?"

"Why do I do this to myself?"

She smiled into her walkie-talkie. Gil was camping out upstairs while she was on the ground floor. He had initially said that he should be on the ground floor in case someone broke into the house. Then she said that the upper floor was likely more haunted and then he had fallen on that sword instead.

He was very protective, for a giant walking fraidy-cat.

"I wouldn't know the answer to that," she answered back, the click of the walkie's signal punctuating each sentence for her.

"Are you, um," he paused, and she heard the rustling of his sleeping bag. "Are you okay, down there?"

Ah, sweet Gilgamesh. Every hunt, she volunteered to come with him, and every hunt, he worried about her endlessly. She shifted in her own sleeping bag, "I'm fine Gil--are you?"

There was a bit of a silence on his end, because of course he was terrified. He hated doing solo investigations, even though that was always when he got his best evidence (when she wasn't there to corroborate the story).

"I know it's just an old house," he muttered, clearly sharing with her what he had been telling himself endlessly. "It makes...sounds."

"All old buildings do," she agreed, turning onto her back to stare up at the ceiling. Gil was up there, curled up on the carpet in the old bedroom of the woman who had died suddenly in full health on halloween night two hundred years earlier.

"The door's locked, right?"

"Yes," Thena laughed faintly, and he heard him grumbling about how lightly she took things on their hunts. "Gil, I'm safe."

"I just," he sighed and even clicked the walkie in the middle of his strenuous sentence. "I would feel a lot better if I could see you."

Thena shook her head on her pillow. Sweet, sweet Gilgamesh, with his charming words; and he wondered how she kept agreeing to late night ghost hunts with him. "I know, me too."

"What if-"

Thena looked at the walkie, but he never continued his statement. She clicked in, "Gil?"

"Ah, it's nothing."

She pursed her lips, sitting up now. It wasn't as if it wasn't creepy in the old, boarded up house she had broken them into for the night. But she didn't quite see things in the shadows and hear voices in the wind the way Gil did. "Gil?"

"It's okay, I'm sorry if I woke you up."

Thena reached for her phone and maglight, already shimmying out of her sleeping bag. "Do you want me to come up?"

She could practically imagine the look on his adorable face, lips all pouted and big brown eyes. He clicked in, "you don't have to."

"I'm coming up, Gil," she laughed, pulling her boots on again. "It's pretty late anyway. If you don't have much evidence by now I think the rest of the night will be quiet."

"Okay."

He sounded so excited.

Thena walked up the stairs, listening to every creek and moan. Gil was so expressive, always wearing his heart on his sleeve. She adored that about him. "Almost there."

She walked towards the first bedroom on the right, her feet creaking the floorboards. She knocked on the door, hearing a wobbly, "Thena?"

Gil was wrapped up in his sleeping bag, his flashlight on and pointed at the ceiling like a kid scared to go to sleep at camp. She shook her head, "what happened to lights off, hm?"

"Not tonight," he rustled around, emerging from the sleeping bag enough to look at her. He sighed, "you're a sight for sore eyes."

Thena rolled her eyes, "you're just saying that because you're scared that woman is going to appear at the foot of your sleeping bag."

"Well, I am now!"

She laughed as he unzipped the side of it and sat up properly, "I'm kidding Gil."

He pouted at her, holding the unzipped flap open, "just get in here."

Thena blushed. She had left her sleeping bag downstairs. She hadn't even thought about it--maybe she had just thought she would just come up and calm him down. Or maybe she imagined he would be so ready to leave that he would pack up and leave immediately.

"Come on," he urged, even moving the flashlight to beckon her closer. "It's chilly!"

Thena crept closer, tucking herself against his back at first to take off her boots again. "Gil, don't you-"

"Eep!"

A moan ran through the old house and that was all the excuse Gil needed to pull her into the sleeping bag with him, curling his arms around her and even tucking her smaller feet between his own.

"We've been in a lot of houses, but this one really takes the cake," he muttered against her hair, holding her against him like a full sized comfort toy.

Thena blinked, completely pressed into his chest as his hands rubbed circles in the back of her shirt. His sleeping bag was so much warmer than hers.

Gil settled himself more comfortably, finally turning the flashlight off and nestling his cheek against the top of her hair. "Okay, I'm beat. Wake me up if that ghost lady comes by."

"'Kay," Thena just barely managed to squeak out, and her voice was high and squeaky as she said, much to her own horror. She couldn't possibly sleep with her heart beating like this. It was the most adrenaline she'd had in her system all night.

"Hey," he whispered, and it was not helping her forget how close they were.

"Y-Yeah?" she whispered back, only because he couldn't see her face and how terribly flustered she felt.

"You know I couldn't do this without you, right?"

His arms tightened around her, and her hands gripped the back of his flannel in reflex. He was so warm, and he felt so strong, but also soft. Her eyes fluttered, "I know."

"Good," he sounded like he was smiling. He nuzzled her forehead until he could press his lips to it. "I just want you to know how happy I am that you're here."

Thena pressed herself even deeper into his chest, as if he and the ghosts could all see her falling even harder for him in real time. Her hands clung to him as she straightened out her curled spine, really cuddling against him. "I'm happy to be with you, too."

She heard him chuckle in the dark, and her blush intensified. That wasn't what he meant.

"Good," he sufficed to say. "Get some sleep."

She nodded against him, done trying to talk and formulate words with him saying such bone-meltingly sweet things. "Night."

#Thenamesh Ghost Files AU #Gil asks her if she's up for staking out this place for halloween night #thinking maybe she would rather go to a costume party or something #meanwhile Thena is like yes date night!#they do have some evidence to look at the next morning\#but Thena doesn't remember any of it #like not a spec #she's too busy thinking about how comfy it was to sleep together #all snuggled up like a couple of little love bugs #Gil is going through the tapes and asks if she remembers hearing this sound #Thena says no #because she could only hear her own heartbeat in her ears #and Gil's breathing #for hours #And Gil #poor sweet Gil #he has no idea why she seems to shy the next morning #they grab breakfast at some old dinner and when he brings her coffee she looks at him #like he's her prince charming #and he's like okay maybe last night wasn't so bad #Thena is here with heart eyes over spending the night together in a spooky old house #and listen honey same #happy spooky time!

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tortoisesshells · 29 days

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41. teamwork ; with rvb ? 🙏

“Oh,” said Vicki, the noise of the mantle-clock gradually cutting through her distraction – the time being struck, the soft sound of the evening breeze picking up outside, “We told your cousin we’d be there in fifteen minutes.” Saying this was one thing – untangling herself from Burke and Roger and her seemingly endless petticoats was another; it was the work of a minute to get to her feet and find Josette Collins’s dress where it had been carelessly discarded, if, blessedly, still intact. “Burke – will you – my buttons?” “We’re half the party,” Roger said, fixing the neck linens that had been his great-something-great uncle’s, and finding their shoes, “It would be worse manners to start without us – and just think: starting without Joshua, our patriarch?” “And what excuse will Joshua” (Burke said, and though she could not see him working behind her, Vicki could well and fondly imagine her husband’s look of exasperation) “offer for tardiness – did the car throw a shoe, maybe?”

Send me a number and two (or three!) characters, and get a five sentence drabble.

#photographs taken moments before disaster (barnabas becoming convinced vicki's a suitable josette) rvb au edition.#costume parties for ... well. there was some fun had. they don't profit any by it. alas.#fic #my fic

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kjack89 · 2 years

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To a Flame

For @themiserablesmonth Day 21: Flame.

Modern AU, Courferre, E/R, Halloween party shenanigans.

Read on AO3.

As soon as he set foot in the door, Courfeyrac kissed Grantaire on both cheeks. “Grantaire, my darling, you must tell me your secret,” he declared.

Grantaire, who had very clearly opted for the easy costume idea of dressing as Enjolras, arched an eyebrow. “My secret to what?”

“Convincing Enjolras to let you throw a Halloween party this close to Election Day,” Courfeyrac said airily.

Grantaire frowned slightly as he smoothed the front of the red hoodie he’d obviously purloined from Enjolras’s closet. “Election’s not for another week and a half,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, and normally by now Enjolras would be absolutely feral and obsessing over every poll to be released from battleground districts,” Courfeyrac said, having unfortunately witnessed this in person several times over. “Instead, I just saw him take a sip of a pumpkin-flavored lager.” He leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, “Did you drug him?”

“Of course not,” Grantaire huffed, rolling his eyes.

“But you were tempted.”

A smile twitched a the corners of Grantaire’s mouth. “I’m taking the Fifth on that one,” he said. “But the way I convinced him was easy. I promised I’d go knock doors with him tomorrow.”

Courfeyrac raised both eyebrows in exaggerated shock. “You’re going canvassing?”

Grantaire snorted. “No, of course not. I will be too hungover to do anything and I highly suspect he will be, too, so it didn’t really cost me anything to promise that.”

He shrugged, allowing himself a small, triumphant smile, and Courfeyrac shook his head, slowly smiling as well. “You are devious.”

“And you are…” Grantaire trailed off as he took in Courfeyrac’s costume for the first time. “Flaming.”

Courfeyrac smirked as he held his arms out to his side, showing off the exuberant flame costume he’d gotten a little drunk and made the night before. “I’ve been accused as much before,” he said with a wink.

Grantaire laughed, shaking his head. “Seriously, what are you dressed as? The burning of the Touquet Charter, perhaps?”

He waggled his eyebrows and Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. “I’m not nearly drunk enough for such a meta joke,” he said.

“Then what?” Grantaire pressed.

Courfeyrac patted him on the arm. “Patience, dearest Grantaire, remains ever a virtue,” he said primly.

“And I’m definitely not drunk enough to respond to that,” Grantaire said, making a face. He shooed Courfeyrac toward the rest of the party. “Go, mingle. See how many times you get called a homophobic slur.”

“Not sure it counts as a slur when it comes from a bunch of queers,” Courfeyrac called over his shoulder as he began to sashay away.

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Just go.”

Courfeyrac obediently went, going to get himself a glass of hard apple cider before saying hello to everyone else, admiring everyone else’s costumes and demurring whenever anyone asked for further explanation of his own.

Joly and Bossuet would undoubtedly win the prize for most cringe-inducing couples costume, having opted for their regular clothes with the word ‘DOCK’ written in masking tape across each of their chests. “We’re a paradox,” Joly told him, grinning when Courfeyrac choked on his drink.

Bahorel was resplendent as a princess in a sparkly pink gown. Feuilly looked a little put out by the whole situation. “If I had known he was going as royalty, I’d have gone a different zombie,” he said, adjusting the wig of his zombie Queen Elizabeth II costume, complete with a tiny stuffed corgi.

Jehan had also opted for a Queen Elizabeth II theme – of sorts, anyway. “Queen Elizabeth’s tombstone?” Courfeyrac queried when he saw what he was wearing.

Jehan just winked. “A gender neutral bathroom,” he said cheerfully, and Courfeyrac choked on his drink for the second time that evening. “But where is your better half? And what has he opted as to complement your flame?”

“He’s running late,” Courfeyrac told him. “He’s supposed to have all of his classes’ midterms graded by the end of the month so he’s been at work all day to get as much done as he could so that he can enjoy his hangover in peace tomorrow.”

“Like you’re going to give him anything resembling peace,” Jehan scoffed.

Courfeyrac smirked. “You know that, and I know that…” He trailed off and drained his glass of cider. “Need a refill?”

“Sure,” Jehan said, handing his mug over. “And don’t think I didn’t notice that you chose not to answer my question about what Combeferre’s going to be wearing.”

Courfeyrac just gave him a little wave, weaving between other guests, mostly non-Les Amis friends of Grantaire’s, in search of the bar. He almost ran straight into Enjolras, who gave him a quick once over. “I’m having sudden flashbacks to your more pyromaniac tendencies,” he said mildly.

“Don’t worry, I have no plans to burn down your apartment,” Courfeyrac assured him. He arched an eyebrow as he took in Enjolras’s costume. “Though the same can’t be said for your clothes.”

“What, these old things?” Enjolras said with a smirk, brushing his hand down the front of the t-shirt he’d crudely used magic marker on to spell out MAGA. “I went as an insurrectionist. Scariest thing I could think of.”

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. “I thought you said the scariest thing you could think of was the various state Secretary of State candidates who are election deniers.”

Enjolras scowled. “Fine, scariest thing I could think of and also come up with a costume for. Happy?”

“Always,” Courfeyrac said sweetly.

Enjolras glanced at his watch. “When’s Combeferre getting here?” he asked. “I want to see if I can convince him to come canvassing with me and Grantaire tomorrow.”

“Combeferre will be busy being hungover and feeling sorry for himself tomorrow,” Courfeyrac said. “He’ll probably be free on Sunday, though, if he finished his grading, at least.”

“I’m gonna hold you, and him, to that, you know,” Enjolras told him.

“I’m already signed up to text bank for at least five different candidates,” Courfeyrac reminded him. “And I just sent a shit ton of postcards reminding people to vote.”

“And yet study after study has shown that the most effective way of convincing voters is door-to-door canvassing using deep canvassing techniques—”

“Oh, look at that,” Courfeyrac interrupted brightly. “I think Grantaire just spilled on your hoodie.”

Enjolras’s eyes widened. “I knew I shouldn’t have let him borrow it,” he huffed, brushing past Courfeyrac, who chuckled to himself as he finally made his way to the bar.

He returned to Jehan with full drinks in hand a few minutes later. “Sorry for the delay,” he said, passing Jehan’s mug to him. “I was waylaid by Enjolras.”

Jehan took a sip of cider. “Did he give you the speech on deep canvassing?” he asked.

“Just as he does every election,” Courfeyrac confirmed. “One year we should convince him to dress as a preacher, and we can all dress as the choir he loves preaching to.”

Jehan laughed, and Joly and Bossuet joined them a moment later, both looking disgruntled. “When I swore to go through fire for Enjolras, I did not mean that I would sign up for every 8am canvassing shift he runs across for the rest of all time,” Joly informed them, a little sourly.

“It won’t be that bad,” Bossuet said bracingly.

Joly gave him a look. “You’re only saying that because you inevitably get the cops called on you five minutes into it, and therefore get to fuck off and have brunch with Grantaire instead.”

“One of the few perks of my bad luck,” Bossuet said with a grin.

Joly rolled his eyes, but before he could say anything, the door to Enjolras and Grantaire’s apartment opened, and Courfeyrac stood up on his tiptoes to see over the crowd. He grinned when he saw who it was. “Jehan, remember what you asked me before?”

Jehan looked momentarily confused before his expression evened out. “Right, what costume Combeferre would be wearing to complement yours.”

Courfeyrac just grinned as Combeferre pushed his way through the crowd to find him immediately. “Like a moth to a flame,” he said smugly.

Jehan, Joly and Bossuet groaned in unison as they saw Combeferre’s moth costume. “Of course,” Jehan sighed. “I should have known.”

Combeferre raised an eyebrow as he leaned in to kiss Courfeyrac’s cheek. “Problem?” he asked mildly.

“Not at all,” Courfeyrac said, wrapping an arm around his waist. “They just don’t appreciate our couple’s costume.”

Combeferre’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t realize we were wearing a couple’s costume.”

“I know,” Courfeyrac said, even more smugly than before. “That’s what makes it so perfect.”

#exr #courferre #courfeyrac #grantaire #enjolras #combeferre #joly #bossuet #jehan #bahorel #feuilly #les miserables #modern au #fanfiction #hijinks and shenanigans #halloween party #halloween costumes

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ionlydrinkhotwater · 2 years

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OK talking about a Legally Blonde Snowbaz AU in the discord lead to this recreation of the infamous "not actually a costume party but your rival told you it was to mock you when you showed up dressed up in an insane costume infront of all the law students" party scene

Also Vivian and Elle should have ended up together they had rivals to lovers vibes.

#simon snow #simon snow series #the simon snow trilogy #baz pitch #snowbaz #carry on rainbow rowell #simon and baz #rainbow rowell #simon snow trilogy #legally blonde #legally blonde snowbaz au #Bazs shit eating grin #Simons so angy #was told this was a costume party and showed up as a thotty demon

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spock-smokes-weed · 6 months

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don't rb cus this is just a sketch, but im working on comics again and sadly I have to say I side with oda cus drawing horny sanji is so much fun.

#my art #one piece #vinsmoke sanji #im making the halloween party comic for my au cus it's time to get in spirit of the season #im also gonna do paintings of all their costumes #i have like a week to do all of this wish me luck lol

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dreamdragoness · 6 months

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After checking out the Halloween update to the Welcome Home website, I've decided to give Stacy a costume for if she attended the party. I was also inspired by Man on the Internet's newest video, "Hand and Eye." Stacy decides to dress up as a pirate since most of the usual costumes were taken and it was either this or she'd wrap herself up to look like a mummy. Luckily, Stacy had some old clothes that she was able to cut up and cobble together into outfit. She did order the stripped stockings, the shoes, hat, and eyepatch through Howdy's store. She debated about bringing a wooden sword and attach a fake parrot to complete the look, but decided against it.

Since the show took place between the 60s and 70s, Stacy would bring popcorn balls and provide hot non-alcoholic apple cider and mulled cider. Some of the popcorn balls are coated in chocolate, making them Popcorn Cannonballs.

#original character #welcome home #welcome home au #pirates #pirate costume #halloween #halloween party

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thatmexisaurusrex · 2 years

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SamBucky Halloween Bingo 2022 Fill 2: Costume Mishap

Hey, people! This is my second fill for @sambuckyhalloweenbingo2022 for the prompt "Costume Mishap". Enjoy this little College AU Dorks in Love tale! 🥰

Totally Would Kiss Him

| Pairing: Sambucky | Rated: E | WC: 2.8K |

Summary: Bucky Barnes would totally kiss Sam Wilson. But, alas. Bucky's straight. And Sam is too.

Excerpt:

“How beautiful is Samuel. Thomas. Wilson again?” asked Ayo, as if to prove a point. “He’s the most beautiful person I know,” said Bucky. The sky was blue. Grass was green. Samuel Thomas Wilson was the most beautiful person Bucky had ever seen. “He’s more attractive than all the girls I know,” said Bucky like he was saying he needed air to breathe, “I would totally kiss Sam if I was gay.” And there was a grasping of something. In Ayo and Aneka’s eyes. As if waiting for something from Bucky. Bucky sighed. “Too bad I’m not gay,” said Bucky, possibly a little despondently as he chugged the rest of his drink.

READ THE REST ON AO3!

#sambuckyhalloweenbingo2022 #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sambucky fic #crack treated seriously #dorks in love #friends to lovers #college au #costume party #read the tags #costume mishap #my fic #Totally Would Kiss Him

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fabulous-fic-quotes · 1 year

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James looks up from the boys outfit to his face and surely James forgets to breathe.

Regulus has eyeliner under his eyes and what James could guess was black eyeshadow highlighting his sharp features making him look gray and gaunt, his pale complexion is helping a lot, and then Regulus flashes a small smile… his teeth.

A vampire.

Regulus is a vampire.

He’s got fangs…

Forget the fangs, he’s wearing a corset.

Whys and Noes - @sirinoir

#harry potter #james potter #regulus black #fic quotes #fic recs #alternate universe #no voldemort au #costume party #regulus got our boy so flustered!!#this fic is a gem #go read it #you'll enjoy it

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verdantvulpus · 2 years

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My TTWBAD Halloween Party Costume Pick Pics and the Original Costumes they’re based on!

Oct. 24, Sexy Sailor Thorn

Thorn is continuing his nautical themed outfits, moving from ‘pirate’ to this ‘sailor’ costume. It’s also the first costume he doesn’t need to accessorize with his massive sword.

Of course, he’d be the first to that, even unarmed, he still has a massive sword. Here he is, using it to casually sexually harrass another party guest. The dark fae are absolutely incorrigible, but this sort of thing is probably pretty tame considering the guest list.

This piece is available in high res to Patrons but will be made public next month on my Patreon.

Regular res versions are also together on AO3 here.

A creepy watery song for a watery creep:

Bottom Of The River by Delta Rae

#please repost #the trouble with being a demon #TTWBAD #ao3 #patreon #good omens adjacent #good omens au #troubleverse #playlists #OC #oc artwork #good omens oc #dark fae #dark faerie #changlings #unseelie #delta rae #sexy costumes #TTWBAD Halloween Party

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coldgpa · 2 years

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Asserted major lesbian dominance tonight

#in every sense #i made so much fucking eye contact #i went to a really bad college party thrown by my best friends boyfriends fraternity #and my best friend got too high from my weed..im so sorry #anyway the dude acted like... weirdly mad about the fact she kissed my cheek for the costume and brought it up TWICE in the same weird ass #way #just like hhaha wow u overlined it karissa #DUDE... is so fucking livid right now BHQHAHAHA #it was genuinely funny #like... ive known her first and longer.. step back now #she is my platonic soulmate youre just her boytoy #this could be a ronance college au #he was even like #haha u know u can jist put it on your hand and do it to yourself 🤬🤬#it was so funny

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aidanchaser · 7 months

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Boulangérella: A Miraculous Fairy Tale AU - Chapter Nineteen

Table of Contents Read on Ao3 Prologue

Marinette knew that Kagami needed her, but she could not help but think that Alya needed her more. She had done all she could for Char Noir, and now she had to help her other best friend. Tikki slipped into her apron pocket as she left the fitting room, and Marinette detoured to the palace doors where she had left Nino and Alya. She ran into them just as the guards were escorting them out, and she hurried to stop them.

“Alya! Nino!”

As Alya turned her head, Marinette’s heart flinched.

Marinette could not speak from experience, but she had heard from her parents, Alya, and Nino, who had all experienced Hawk Moth’s curses before, that when the curse was undone, there was a hollow, empty sensation left behind. That did not appear to exist in Alya, whose hazel eyes simmered with molten rage.

Marinette wondered if Hawk Moth could simply offer her Rena Rage’s power once more, and if he did, would Alya even attempt to resist?

“What’s happened?” Marinette asked. “I heard someone say that the throne room collapsed and I came to check on you—”

Alya yanked Marinette into a hug. Though it was bone-crushing, it was neither affectionate nor angry. It felt as desperate as Chat Noir had felt grabbing her hand.

“I’ll tell you everything,” Alya whispered, “but not in front of the palace guards.”

The part of her that was Ladybug, the part of her that needed to protect this city because no one else could, tried to raise a protest. Alya couldn’t tell her everything. No one else was supposed to know Rena Rouge’s identity except Ladybug.

Though Marinette supposed King Gabriel, Nino, and half of the palace guards knew the truth by now.

“I need to finish fitting Princess Kagami and the princes,” Marinette whispered back.

Alya’s lips pressed together in a tight line. Through gritted teeth, she spat, “Ask the princes why the king has taken to stealing from his people.”

“Alya—”

“Ask them.”

And then the guards were pulling them apart and practically dragging Alya and Nino from the palace.

Marinette swallowed down the lump in her throat. She knew her best friend well, and Alya would stop at nothing to get back what she had lost. So Marinette would not stop either.

She was going to beg King Gabriel for the fox pendant back.

No, not beg. That wasn’t the right word.

Demand.

Marinette turned to the nearest guard. “I’d like to speak to King Gabriel.”

The woman looked down at her with a bemused expression. “And I’d like a vacation to the sea for a week. Good luck to the both of us, kid.”

Marinette frowned. She supposed luck really would be her only option.

Despite her anger, she stifled a yawn and, as she began the walk up to Princess Kagami’s rooms, tried to put together a plan. She would have to find King Gabriel as Ladybug, and the best way to do that would be to attend the ball. She did not feel quite presentable for a ball in her exhausted state, but she would have to trust Tikki’s magic to take care of that for her.

She wondered what she ought to do for a dress. Her attire as Ladybug was well-suited for running across rooftops and battling Hawk Moth’s monstrous curses, but it was hardly appropriate for a ball.

Marinette would have to ask Tikki if there was any way to change her appearance, but she had already arrived at Princess Kagami’s rooms, and she had no sooner placed her hand on the door before Princess Kagami was there, pulling her inside.

“Where did you go?” Kagami demanded. “What happened?”

“Oh—” Marinette stumbled into the dressing room. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, I only—I went to get help, to find Ladybug.”

“Is that the magic that filled the palace? Just like yesterday evening?”

Marinette yawned again and nodded. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s been a very long two days.” Or, more accurately, a very long month.

But Princess Kagami did not seem to mind Marinette’s exhaustion. She pulled Marinette to her dressing table, sat her down, and said, “As you help me get ready for this evening, I want you to tell me everything about Ladybug.”

Some stories of Ladybug and her heroics in the City of Bright Lights had reached Kagami in the east, and she knew enough about magic in her own country. She did not find the fay so terribly different from the spirits in her land. Similar beings, different names.

But she had never seen magic up close, and if Prince Adrien wanted magic, if that was truly why he had spent so much time with Lila last night, then Kagami wanted to know everything.

So as Marinette helped her dress, she listened. She listened while Marinette told her about Hawk Moth and his desperation for a terrible wish. Marinette told her about Chat Noir and his thieving antics, but also that he was loyal and a hero just like Ladybug. Marinette even told Kagami about Alya, and everything that had happened today.

“The king took the magic from your friend?”

“I’m sure he had a good reason, but I hope he will change his mind.” Marinette rubbed her eyes and tied off the sash around Kagami’s waist. “Don’t you find all these silks heavy?” she asked, and tried to adjust the collar of Kagami’s dresses so that the layers of fabric were more visible. It seemed a shame to bury so much beautiful fabric.

“Don’t you find that your stays pinch your ribs?” Kagami asked. “Perhaps if your king rewarded Chat Noir and Ladybug for all the good they have done for the city, Chat Noir would not resort to such thievery, and your heroes would not have to be so secret.”

Marinette smiled. Chat Noir did what he did for fun, not for the value in what he took. But she wouldn’t complain about a little financial thank you. It’d be nice to provide for her parents after all that they had sacrificed to make sure that she could continue her apprenticeship year after year.

“Maybe,” she conceded, “but I think both Chat Noir and Ladybug do what they do because they want to help. They don’t do it for a reward.”

Marinette pulled back the layers of each dress so that they cascaded more like a collection of panels on the dresses that the other women would be wearing. “It does seem a shame to wear so much fine fabric and cover it all. Would you like me to pin it back?”

Kagami hummed in distracted agreement. “What has King Gabriel done about Hawk Moth’s attacks? To have the palace attacked twice in two days… It seems that something ought to be done.”

“Well, I know he increased the number of guards after yesterday’s attack…”

“Ineffective,” Kagami noted. “For today’s attack was far worse, you said.”

“Yes, but Hawk Moth’s power is stronger when the emotions he uses are stronger. I don’t think that’s something King Gabriel can control.”

“No, I suppose not.”

Kagami surveyed her reflection in the mirror. The way Marinette had pinned back her silks to reveal each layer was unusual to her, but she tried to see it through Marinette’s eyes, as an artistic challenge with certain limitations. The lavender and pale blue silk were lovely, even though they were not meant to be visible. The outer coat, painted in green, blue, and violet irises was still the central piece of the ensemble, but she felt rather exposed.

“Are you happy with it?” Marinette asked.

“It’s… different.”

There was a knock at the door and Kagami’s heart raced. Though she knew that her mother could not see, she felt certain that her mother would immediately know that Marinette had altered her traditional dress into something new.

But it was not her mother at the door. It was only a servant, arrived to tell Marinette that the princes were ready for their fitting.

“Oh—we’re nearly done,” Marinette said, and turned to Kagami. “I can undo it all, really, if you don’t like it.”

“But you like it, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“And… Prince Adrien liked what you designed for him?”

Marinette remembered his tears yesterday and thought it best not to give Kagami any details. “I think he did.”

“Then I shall try it for tonight.”

“You look beautiful,” Marinette assured her. “Yesterday, I thought about how nice your dress would pair with the pale green that Prince Adrien wore. Tonight he’s wearing white and lavender, and I think it will match just as nicely.”

Kagami took in a deep breath and recovered all of her surety. “Thank you, Marinette.”

“You’re welcome, Your Highness.” Marinette curtsied. She glanced down at the jewelry box on the table. “Did you also want to wear the hair pins that Prince Adrien sent you?”

Kagami pulled the lid off of the box and examined the delicate glass lilies. They were gaudier than she was used to, but so was everything in this court. They also would pair well with the irises of her kosode, and she supposed if she wanted any chance with Prince Adrien, she would have to make a show of accepting his apology, even if it still stung.

“Very well.”

Kagami waited while Marinette carefully tucked the pins into her hair, and Kagami could not help but be impressed by this young girl’s generosity. She was a seamstress, but she had done far more for Kagami than any seamstress ought to, from her hair to her makeup to simply listening to Kagami’s heartbreak.

Kagami had never had someone she could count as a friend, and she was not sure that as a princess she could ever ask a peasant to be her friend, but for the first time in her life she imagined this must be what it felt like to have a friend.

“You are attending the ball tomorrow, correct?” Kagami asked.

“Oh… I was going to attend with Alya, but after today, I’m not sure—”

“Please attend.”

Marinette blinked, startled by the plea. It was so different from the controlled, commanding tone she was used to hearing Kagami speak with.

“I should like to meet your friend.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Marinette promised, and with a hasty curtsy, hurried to dress Princes Adrien and Félix.

Prince Adrien had taken his time on his walk back to Félix’s room. He’d used servants’ passages in an attempt to avoid anyone getting a good look at him or the bruises on his face. His heart felt hollow, wrung dry by his conversation with Ladybug. He was still hurt by the secrecy of the painting and worried about his father—though he imagined he would have heard something by now if his father had not made it out of the throne room safely. He wondered, too, why his father had taken the fay gift from Rena Rouge. He twisted the ring on his finger, trying to imagine what it would be like to have Plagg taken from him.

The black cat trotted after him, green eyes glinting in the dim light. He had not said anything, but Adrien had a feeling that as soon as the evening was over, Plagg was going to ask him to steal Trixx’s pendant back. Adrien wanted to, truly, but he also wanted to sleep. His late nights with Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng had taken their toll on him.

When he reached Félix’s bedroom door, Plagg leapt into Adrien’s pocket, shifting into his smaller fay shape as he did.

Félix had migrated from the bed to his desk, where his charcoals sat in front of him, but the sheaf of paper on his desk was blank. He twirled a pencil lazily in his hand. “Ladybug saved the day again?”

Adrien would never understand how Félix could be so bored by Ladybug’s magic. Most of the city, at the very least, admired the ladybug-like fay creatures that swarmed the city and undid Hawk Moth’s damage after each of Ladybug’s victories. Adrien was positively enamored with it.

“Hawk Moth created a curse that was powerful enough to bring the throne room down. Ladybug managed to save the guards in the throne room and put everything back together.” Almost everything. Adrien’s heart was still torn in two, but at least Ladybug had found him and tried to help.

“The king is fine?” Félix quirked an eyebrow, and Adrien could not quite read the expression there.

“I haven’t heard otherwise.” Adrien leaned against Félix’s desk and absentmindedly thumbed at his cousin’s stack of blank paper. He glimpsed fragments of sketches on the edges of buried sheets. He wasn’t interested in prying, not really, and only caught bits of black and white and gray. A feather here, an eye there, and a curl…

Adrien could not help himself. He knew the shape of that curl of hair, resting on top of a woman’s shoulder. Though he had not seen his mother since the day that she had fallen asleep, he could not forget her lifeless repose. He’d spent hours at her bedside, doing nothing but watching and crying, nothing but begging for her to wake up again.

“Is this… my mother?” Adrien asked.

Félix didn’t answer and Adrien continued to stare at the sketch until his eyes were blurry with tears and the sketch had dissolved into nothing but a gray, watery mist.

He took a moment to make sure he could speak without breaking before asking, “Have you seen the painting my father keeps in the throne room annex?”

Félix did his best to keep his face neutral. It was a long-practiced habit, but his sleepless night had left him raw. His instinct was to lie, but if secrets were not his to control anymore, he wasn’t sure what the point was in keeping them. He also couldn’t say which answer would hurt Adrien more.

“I have,” Félix finally murmured. “I saw it for the first time just the other day.”

Adrien considered the softness in Félix’s traditionally sharp voice. “Your father painted it?”

Félix nodded.

How foolish Adrien had been to think he was alone in his grief.

“I’m sorry,” Adrien said, and set the sketch back down on the desk.

“For what?”

“I don’t know. I just am.”

Adrien, hands still in search of something to do, something to fill his grief or to satisfy his magical penchant for mischief, picked up one of the charcoals. He rolled it between his fingers and watched the way it marked his hands, not unlike the twin bruises on his and his cousin’s faces.

He closed his eyes and searched for something stable inside of himself. He had cried too much today. He couldn’t afford any more tears, certainly not when he had to be presentable at a ball in just a few moments. Certainly not when he still had to face his father with the knowledge of the secret painting and what his father had done to Rena Rouge.

“Félix…”

Félix tucked the sketch back beneath the blank paper. “Hm.”

“Can you think of why Father would take a miraculous gift from someone?”

Félix’s heart accelerated as he recalled Gabriel tearing through his pockets last night as Nathalie held him in place and the strange thought that Gabriel had been disappointed to find Amelie and Michel’s ring, rather than the miraculous gift of destruction.

“No,” Féilx answered in what he hoped was distracted or off-hand way, but his mind was spinning. “What did he take?”

“The gift of illusion.”

“He stole the gift from Lila Rossi?”

Adrien wished it were all that simple. “Er—Chat Noir stole it from Lila, then gave it to Ladybug, who gave it to Rena Rouge, and Father stole it from Rena Rouge.”

Félix carefully set down the charcoal he had been holding and steadied himself against his desk. He felt dizzy with this information. Had the idea of gaining a miraculous through marriage had any influence on Gabriel’s decision to marry a Graham de Vanily? Was there some similar reason that Gabriel wanted Adrien to marry Princess Kagami?

And if Gabriel wanted miraculous gifts so badly, what was he doing with them?

A quick, efficient knock at the door announced Nathalie’s entrance, but Félix hardly heard her.

“Sorry for the delay,” Nathalie said, and hurried through Félix’s drawing room and into his bedroom. “There was an incident in the throne room.”

Nathalie set the tin of chalk powder that she had brought with her onto the dressing table. She eyed the mostly melted snow and the soaked napkins the boys had used. Well, at least they had used them. She’d been worried Félix would not bother out of some stubborn self-martyrdom.

As for Adrien, Nathalie could not imagine how he had hurt his face so similarly. Part of her wondered if the way Félix and Adrien had been created meant that they shared all injuries, but she imagined—or rather hoped—that Gabriel would have been aware of that before he had decided to strike Félix.

She turned to ask Adrien what had happened to him, but he had not followed her. Neither had Félix.

“We don’t have all the time in the world,” she called to them. “Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng is finishing up with Princess Tsurugi as we speak.”

Adrien was the first through the door, and he sat at the dressing table obediently. Félix trudged in moments later and sank onto his bed, arms folded over his chest.

Nathalie would let him sulk. She supposed his self-pity was not unwarranted.

Carefully, she dipped her fingers in the chalk mixture and smeared it across Adrien’s face. She started with the uninjured side before covering his bruised cheek as delicately as she could.

He wrinkled his nose. “Why does it smell so bad?”

“Vinegar.”

Adrien sighed. Perhaps it might keep Chloé and Lila from trying to kiss him. His nose burned, but he did not complain. He hardly even flinched as Nathalie’s fingers pressed tenderly against his bruise.

“What happened, Adrien?” she asked.

“I fell,” he said with a half-shrug.

Nathalie was unsatisfied, but she did not have time to press.

“Félix, you’re next,” she said.

There was a moment where Adrien and Nathalie alike thought that Félix would refuse to move from the bed, but it was a brief moment. Slowly, he got to his feet, and with the enthusiasm of a thief approaching the noose, slumped into the chair beside his dressing table.

Nathalie’s face was unchanged and her fingers just as delicate as she smeared the paste across Félix’s face as she had Adrien’s, but her heart twitched with sympathy.

Nathalie loved the princes, if only because they were both Queen Emilie’s children, and she loved Queen Emilie.

It was Queen Emilie who had graciously allowed her to take a leave of absence when her pregnancy had begun to show, and hired her back without question when Nathalie had returned to the castle with an infant and no husband. It was Queen Emilie who had found Nathalie in tears one morning because her child was sick with fever, and had ordered Nathalie to return home with pay. It was Queen Emilie who had continued to pay Nathalie for the rest of the month while Nathalie stayed home and grieved the loss of her child.

Nathalie loved Queen Emilie, and by extension she loved Gabriel and Adrien and Félix and Amelie. She knew their grief when Emilie had fallen asleep and Michel had disappeared because she had felt it too, and because she knew what it was to lose someone irreplaceable.

In Emilie’s honor, she had taken over managing the household staff. She had mourned privately and created space for the royal family to indulge in their grief as best as she could.

And when hers and Gabriel’s first attempt to claim the gifts of creation and destruction had gone awry, they had created a plan to bring Queen Emilie back. Their plan had meant that Gabriel would need her help managing the kingdom while he sought to claim the miraculous gifts, and she had readily agreed.

Her heart ached for Félix’s predicament, and Adrien’s, too, but if all worked out as she and Gabriel planned and hoped, then Emilie would be returned to them before the boys’ birthday, and Nathalie would see to it that everything was set right again.

She eyed Félix and Adrien’s faces, checking for the evenness of the powder and just how much of the bruise was evident beneath her cover-up. The swelling had lowered considerably, but their cheeks were still puffy if someone knew what to look for. The color, however, was nigh invisible. It would have to do.

Nathalie capped the tin of chalk. “I’ll send for Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng. You ought to put on something more appropriate before meeting her in the fitting room.”

The princes dressed, though with little enthusiasm. Nathalie could not recall seeing the princes this solemn since Michel’s funerary services. But she said nothing, merely made them as presentable as she could, and sent them on their way.

Once they arrived in the fitting room, Adrien balked in the doorway. Ladybug’s kiss was still smeared on the looking glass.

Félix looked at the pale smudge and scoffed. “What self-obsessed person left that?”

But Adrien’s heart pounded. So her brilliant red lips that he had dreamed of kissing were purely from her magic. Beneath it all she was… someone else.

He flexed his hand and remembered the feeling of her calloused finger tips. With hands like that, she must work for a living. He should have known; she had always said she was not truly a lady. Would he ever know the truth of who she was?

The knock on the door was gentle, a suggestion more than an interruption.

“Enter,” Félix snapped when Adrien said nothing, and Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng pushed open the door.

She curtsied deeply to both princes and kept her eyes on the floor. “Your Highnesses, I am at your service.”

Félix went first, and Adrien sank into the nearby chair to watch. Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng was as professional as ever as she helped Félix into the white doublet and black jerkin. Her eyes were heavily shadowed, and Adrien wondered how many long nights she had poured into these outfits for the ball. Her hands, however, were steady and her jaw set in a firm line. She was here to do a job, and she would do it well.

When she was finished with Félix, Adrien took his turn. This time, he took a moment to appreciate the black lining she had sewn in out of respect for his grief, and he was surprised when she fastened a black doublet around his chest. The jerkin, however, was white. As Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng fastened his sleeves, he glanced up at his own reflection and at Félix’s, standing just behind him.

They looked more like twins than they ever had before.

Adrien’s jerkin was not just white; it was crafted from shot silk that shimmered white and gold in the late afternoon sun. It was embroidered with the stenciled designs of purple, green, and gold chrysanthemums, and beneath it was a black doublet with a matching embroidered pattern in gold to bring out the shifts in the shot silk.

Félix’s was identical in structure—embroidered chrysanthemums on shot silk—but his jerkin was woven with black and silver silk and embroidered in white flowers; his doublet was white with silver embroidery. It was a much more somber variation of Adrien’s, but the contrast served them well.

Adrien wondered if he would ever stop being amazed with Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng’s work.

He wondered if she would let him kiss her again.

“I’m not sure how to thank you for all you’ve done,” Adrien murmured as she adjusted the fit between the sleeves of his chemise and the doublet.

Marinette’s cheeks flared red. She had been grateful for the somber mood between both princes. She was not quite capable of conversation today, not between her exhaustion and everything that had happened with Alya and Chat Noir. It had been quite enough to explain it all to Kagami.

“It’s my dog—I mean—my job.”

“You do it well.” More than well. Adrien had, just moments ago, hid behind that mirror and agonized over his love for his father and Ladybug, and how that love would never be reciprocated in the way that he wished for. But Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng had seen him before he had even asked. She had listened to his grief and respected it. Maybe she wasn’t the heroine that he had first fallen in love with, but she was certainly someone worth loving.

“Would you—” Adrien caught himself. He had been about to ask her to dance with him at the ball, but remembered that he only knew that she would be attending because he had asked her as Chat Noir. He reframed his question. “I mean, do you have plans to attend the ball?”

Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng tucked her needle into the spool of thread and dropped it into her apron pocket. Carefully she gathered up the wrappings from the delivery boxes and began to fold them. “I had plans to attend tomorrow evening,” she said.

Adrien’s heart sank. “Had?”

Marinette bit down on her cheek. Though Alya had told her to, she did not see what point there was to asking the princes about Trixx. They had not been in the throne room, had not been there when King Gabriel had made his decision to take the fay from Alya.

“I was planning to attend with a friend,” she said. “But I don’t believe my friend will be allowed to return after… well, I don’t believe she’d want to return.”

“Who is your friend?”

“Alya Césaire.”

Adrien searched his memory for any meaning to the name. He thought he remembered a Césaire involved with the kitchens or food of some sort, but he could not remember any recent incidents with the name. “What happened?”

“She—well, she nearly destroyed the throne room today. Because King Gabriel stole her miraculous gift from her, and Hawk Moth took advantage of her anger.”

Adrien tried to put Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng beside Rena Rouge, the confident trickster whom he had met only briefly. Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng was quiet, self-assured, and prone to strange outbursts as she stumbled over her words. Rena Rouge was loud and playful. He wondered what it was that held their friendship together.

“Traditionally,” Félix said, “people aren’t exiled for something that happened to them under Hawk Moth’s influence. Otherwise, we’d be well-rid of the Bourgeois family ages ago.”

“Traditionally, people don’t try to collapse the throne room on top of the king,” Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng pointed out. “But exiled or not, I don’t expect she’ll even want to come to the ball after the king stole a miraculous gift from her.”

“We’ll get it back,” Adrien said, without hesitation.

Félix raised an eyebrow. “We will?”

Adrien reconsidered where he was and who he was with. “We’ll ask for it back. We’ll figure it out.” And if asking didn’t work, well… Adrien knew of a very good thief.

Marinette managed to meet Prince Adrien’s eyes. They seemed to shimmer like the shot silk he was dressed in. Something was off about his face… It was powdered, but that wasn’t what was bothering her.

“Why are you offering to help?” she asked.

“Good question,” Félix grunted.

“Because your friend didn’t deserve what happened to her.” Adrien might have only a handful of details, and he trusted that his father had a good reason, but he also trusted what Ladybug had told him. And he still believed he could find a way to make it right.

He took Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng’s hand in his. Her fingertips were calloused from years of pressing needles through fabric and her hands rough.

“Also,” he said softly, “I’d like you to be there tomorrow night. I’d like to share a dance with you.”

Marinette’s face was so warm she thought she might simply collapse to the floor. She struggled for a response. “I—I’m promised.”

Adrien bit down on his tongue and let her hand fall. “Oh. Of course.”

“I mean—I mean I have promised—I already promised a dance to someone.”

“I… see.”

Marinette was not entirely sure what the connections between her heart, her head, and her words were doing but she heard herself say, “But I have room for a dance with you, too.”

Prince Adrien smiled hesitantly and Marinette very nearly melted into the floor. “Then I look forward to it. Thank you, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng.”

He bowed to her and she hardly had time to register the gesture before he and Félix were gone, and she belatedly dropped into a curtsy to absolutely no one but her own reflection. Finally, upon realizing her foolishness, she let herself fall to the floor.

“Tikki,” she gasped, “what did I just do?”

#sorry its late on tumblr i was busy friday and saturday planning and hosting my sister's baby shower #if youve ever been to one of my parties you know they are A Lot #i am a hostess first and foremost #anyway remember how I said once that costuming was like central to the themes of this au #so like colors and designs and stuff #but also make up #make up plays an important role as a commentary on cultural issues and suppression #anyway enjoy #have i officially tagged enough things with personal commentary to ensure that this wont show up in the fandom tags?#oh well cest la vie #ml #ml fanfic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fanfic #ml fic #ml fairy tale au #fairy tale au

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