oh, joy

Bun | 22 | Fics! | ao3

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bun. 22. writing is fulfilling my ‘create more than you consume’ resolution.

Currently working on The Weight of Nothing — a Miraculous AU fic about what happens when you end up in the same place you forgot you were in before. It’s angsty, it’s dark, and it’ll be a love story, eventually, if everyone survives themselves and each other.

I’m most inspired by works like Atlas Six by Olivie Blake, Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo, and Katabasis by R F Kuang. I’m on a long dark academia kick that I fear will bleed through everything I do forever.

Fic status: in progress, pt. 1/3 done.

For now, you can browse the tags below this intro.

Thanks for being here :)

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Died a little bit, good things planned to happen today hopefully :)

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Declining dinner with your son to go stare at your dead wife in a secret lair must feel good as fuck when you’re Gabriel Agreste

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Are you new to writing? Where did the hobby come from?

New to fic writing for sure, I'm quite the perfectionist so most of what I write tends to die in some notepad or doc that I only open to add to. I write poetry a lot and keep a journal besides that, and I've posted short-form work on Tumblr from my main blog before.

The particular story I'm writing I've had at the back of my mind since I was disappointed with the OG monarch defeat. The best-case scenario with this blog is finally taking a project to completion, getting over myself and posting my work somewhere, and maybe having at least one person read it and go, "you know what? That's pretty nice."

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what does LB and Chat(?)'s dynamic look like? does he act the same even if it's his second time as CN?

:^)

"You can just ask, you know." His voice was conversational. Light. The tone of someone discussing anything but what he was. "If you'd like me to pretend sometimes." He glanced over his shoulder. His green eyes caught the lamplight, flashing as he focused on her. His mouth curved in something that wasn't quite a smile and wasn't quite an apology and wasn't quite anything except the expression of a man who knew exactly what he'd done and was doing. "I'd like to think I'm very good."

She didn't respond. He hadn't expected her to.

"Though-" He extended the baton. Leaned on it. Casual. "I'd maybe not mention it to Viperion."

He stood straight, turned towards the edge of the building, and launched. The silhouette against the sky was, from certain angles, in certain lights, indistinguishable from the boy she'd lost.

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behold! the heroes of Paris! (one wiped his own memories after finding out his dad was a supervillain and has no idea he's replacing himself while trying to figure out what the hell happened the night his dad died. it's complicated.).

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Is the story going to be told from Adrien's perspective?

Yes and no! The story kicks the POV between Adrien and Mari (in and out of the suit). Some chapters are entirely in one POV, some shift partway through. You'll also sort-of see the world from their perspectives.

Adrien has a very pessimistic, sarcastic kind of inner monologue and Mari is more optimistic and anxious-in-the-way-that-makes-you-notice-everything about what goes on around her.

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Another fic crumb, in which an Agreste will always be an Agreste, especially given an interrupted shower.

Adrien had been Chat Noir for — what, seven months now? Eight? Long enough to learn the particular acoustics of miraculous holders in motion.

Ladybug’s was unmistakable. Everything about the way she moved was controlled to the tendon, every atom of her arrival managed and deliberate, and the precision of it made something in Adrien’s chest tighten with an irritation he couldn’t explain.

He wrapped the towel around his waist.

Low.

Lower than was strictly necessary, if he was being honest, but the towel was soft and the bathroom was warm and he was standing in his own home on a Friday evening, and if Ladybug wanted to show up unannounced on his balcony, she could deal with the consequences of her timing.

He stepped into the bedroom.

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Happy Monday!

May your discover weekly be kind to you

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I beg for another fic crumb (especially if it's from the lukadrien one shot)

In reading it over, I didn't find anything short and punchy the way I'd like for crumbs to be, but here they are playing the game of seducing the guy you're networking with at a rich kid's house party (a favorite of Adrien's, he's real good):

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Luka set his wine glass down. The gesture was deliberate, breaking up their back-and-forth, and Adrien found that he rather disliked being the one waiting.

"You're thorough," Luka repeated, barely turning back towards him. "Is that what you're being right now? Thorough?" His eyes met Adrien's now.

"I'm just being curious, actually."

"Curious about what?"

"About you. About the guitar. About whether you'd let me pour you something better than Théo's borrowed Pommard."

The suggestion was rewarded with Luka finally facing him, and he tried not to let the satisfaction creep onto his face. Lest it scare off the opportunity.

"Where would this better wine be?"

"At my place. Which is—" Adrien paused, because timing was behind all great things, "—embarrassingly large for one person, incredibly well-stocked, and about fifteen minutes from here in a car I'll call."

Luka looked at him for a long moment. Whatever calculus was happening behind those eyes involved variables Adrien couldn't access, but the answer, when it came, was delivered with the same unhurried ease as everything else.

"Okay," Luka said.

"Okay?"

"I know when something might make a good song later."

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Your fic concept seems cool!! How do you plan on writing Chloe, or will she not be central to the story?

Thank you! It's very sweet to have seen people curious from the small bits I've shared, I hope the chapters stick the landing.

Chloé will very much be part of the story, which takes place some 3 years after Hawkmoth's defeat (the final battle goes a little off-canon). It's a little tough to concisely explain who she'll be written as, but there's a reason she gets to be Queen Bee above anybody else, and a reason Adrien holds out his elbow for her to hold on to.

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While writing scrap for figuring out how I want characters to sound and interact I wrote a full-on Lukadrien oneshot

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Adrien Agreste

tragic orphan millionaire playboy with traumatic amnesia and a bone to pick with Ladybug and a few hard drives of maybe-clues that'll definitely help him get to the bottom of the night of Hawkmoth's defeat and (also!!!) Gabriel Agreste's death and (also!!!) Chat Noir's disappearance.

I mean, the least Ladybug could do is get him flowers.

uhhh postnow yeah

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Fic crumb from my upcoming angsty ml slow-burn:

His left hand caught his attention. It always did.

He watched, detached, at the way his thumb moved to rub against his ring finger. It was disgustingly unconscious, automatic — like scratching a phantom itch. Three years and he still couldn't break the habit. His therapist had called it a "self-soothing mechanism." His neurologist said it was probably connected to the trauma-induced amnesia.

Adrien called it fucking annoying.