#I always wonder how the people who disappear and leave their presence in an online space are doing

[olessan-lokenosse]

Cahaya and Arum are the oldest dragons in my lair. They're in fact older than my lair. My own progen hitting 9 reminded me that they hit a decade:

Back in April 2015, when I'd just joined and was wanting to dip my toes into the coliseum, I wandered into the Lending Library thread to borrow a pair of level 25s to help me level up my own team.

A user called Ruinia (#234) happily let me take on Cahaya and Arum. After about a couple weeks I was ready to return them, but Ruinia didn't return until August when she was retiring from FR and looking to send off her dragons to adoptees, etc. She replied to my PM to keep them. They've been officially part of my clan ever since, and she doesn't appear to have logged in again after that week.

Ruinia's clan profile has comments up until 2019, some from 2015-2018 wishing her well wherever she is. 2018 was 7 years ago.

It's a bit daunting to think that they were with Ruinia's clan (led by her 1st gen imperial Solastiir) for about a year and a half, and have been with my clan for the nine years since.

They each have a piece of cute art that predates April 2015, and one of the artists (GwenniethePooh #377) appears to still be active on FR! It's just. It's been a long-ass time.

They're still major fixtures of my coli team, along with the team I levelled with them.

🫡

[silverynight]

Welcome home

<---Previous

Chapter 2

Since Katsuki goes really often to Izuku's side of the building, his coworkers are now used to his presence and don't even react when he's there. The first few times though, they were slightly scared because of his reputation; sure, when he gets angry he can be scary, but he's not really a bad person.

"Almost done, nerd?" Katsuki leans over his cubicle, looking particularly smug that day.

"Yes," Izuku smiles back at him; Aizawa texted him back about the other pro hero and said it didn't matter if they didn't have a name yet. He mentioned something about calling the new head of Endeavor's agency himself.

The green haired man shakes his head at his computer; he knows Aizawa is irritated about not having everything ready for the new mission, even though he says it's fine.

"Did you like it?"

Katsuki's words bring Izuku back to the present, and he looks a bit confused when he notices the red eyes staring at his neck.

But then he remembers the device.

"Yes!" He grins before his momentary excitement disappears. "How did you know about this?"

There's a moment of hesitation, but then Katsuki smirks again.

"Who doesn't?"

Izuku presses his lips together, having the weird feeling that he's missing something, but he has a few files to write.

When he's done, he makes sure everything in his station is in the right place before picking his backpack and hoodie up; with a smile, he walks out of his cubicle and says goodbye to his coworkers.

"Finally! You took ages!"

"You could've gone to your apartment, you know," Izuku smiles, watching as Katsuki shakes his head at him.

The pro hero could've left, but Izuku is glad he didn't; he finds it oddly sweet when he waits for him. He does that every time their schedules aline, which is not that often.

"Midoriya!" One of his coworkers stops him, prompting Katsuki to narrow his eyes at her immediately. "I was wondering if you'd like to–"

Katsuki puts an arm around Izuku's shoulders then, and she stops mid sentence; her eyes notice the necklace.

"Yeah? What is it?" He insists kindly. Perhaps she needs help with something; Izuku likes to help his coworkers. He has time, Katsuki can wait a bit.

She shakes her head while blushing.

"It's nothing! I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Alright, if you're sure!" However, Izuku is already being dragged towards the exit. "Kacchan, you're really impatient today..."

"I don't like her."

Izuku rolls his eyes, but he's glad they're heading to the parking lot now and she can't hear him.

"So where are we heading today?" He asks, feeling himself getting more hungry within each second.

"Wherever you want."

"I chose the last time we went out."

"So?"

This is exactly one of the reasons most people online get everything wrong about pro hero Dynamight; Katsuki is actually very kind and always puts Izuku first.

He's grateful they decided to start over, and now they're good friends.

"Kacchan..." Izuku trails off as he notices the scratches and bruises on the pro hero's arms. Even though he can't see his back, he knows he has a couple there as well. "Why didn't you let the paramedics patch you up?"

As they get out of the parking lot, Katsuki looks at Izuku momentarily with an amused smile on his face before facing ahead again. He takes one of his hands off the steering wheel to pinch Izuku's cheek.

"They usually take ages," he says as if that's a good response. "Besides, I'm fine."

"They are there for a reason, you know?" Izuku sighs. The concern is obvious in his tone. He doesn't like it when Katsuki doesn't take care of himself. "If they're just scratches, they probably wouldn't have taken too long."

"I wanted to see you."

The sincerity in his voice makes Izuku blush and look away; of course, it's normal for a friend to worry about him, but sometimes Katsuki has this look in his red eyes... it's so intense it makes Izuku feel warm and fuzzy inside.

"I'm not going anywhere," Izuku says after a while. "Please, let others take care of you."

"I leave that to you."

Izuku sighs, and Katsuki chuckles in response before stroking the other man's cheek with his thumb.

"Fine. We're going to your apartment then," he mumbles after a while.

"So you can patch me up?" Katsuki has a triumphant smirk on his face that makes Izuku narrow his eyes. He shouldn't be happy about getting hurt! "Nice. I'll make katsudon then."

"Really?" The asks, feeling his bad humor vanish in seconds.

"Of course, nerd."

***

It's a good thing he has done this a couple of times, otherwise he'd be really flustered at the moment.

Katsuki has taken a shower, and now he's patiently waiting for Izuku, sitting at the edge of his bed, with only a towel around his waist.

Even though they are friends, Izuku is not blind and admits the pro hero is very attractive; it seems the years of training and working as a pro hero had paid off because Izuku is sure his chest and back are only muscle mass now.

He's also taller and broader than Izuku; of course, Izuku goes to the gym, but he's still thin and small compared to his friend.

To push those thoughts away, Izuku goes to where Katsuki keeps his first aid kit before walking back in the bedroom, relieved that the bruises and scratches are only on Katsuki's back this time. That way he doesn't get to see Izuku's blush.

Actually, it's not only that, but the way Katsuki goes quiet and keeps staring at Izuku whenever he cleans his wounds that make him flustered. Despite being loud and grumpy when it comes to someone patching him up, Katsuki calms down and relaxes when Izuku does it.

And those red eyes never leave Izuku's face, which is why he's glad this time Katsuki's back is the only part that is hurt.

When he's almost done, he hears Katsuki sigh, and for a moment he worries he has another injury he hasn't told Izuku about.

"I'd like for you to patch me up for the rest of our lives."

"Of course, Kacchan!" Izuku smiles, taking a few steps back and moving around so he can finally face him. "We're friends after all!"

Katsuki doesn't smile back, but he nods, looking more tired than ever.

"I think I should leave you to rest; you had a long day at work..."

"Nonsense! Do you think I can't handle a simple katsudon?"

He's back to normal, Izuku thinks, relieved. Maybe he imagined the whole thing.

Chuckling, he goes back to the living room and sits on the couch while Katsuki changes. Izuku is kinda relieved when he sees him wearing pants and a shirt.

"I think you should stay," Katsuki mumbles then, rubbing the back of his neck.

"If this is about my apartment I–"

"No. I mean, I hate your place," the pro hero admits, cutting him off. "But this is not about that; I think it'd be nice for you to... sleep over tonight, like we used to do. And tomorrow you can go back to your shitty building."

Despite the numerous insults to his apartment, Izuku smiles back.

"That'd be nice! No, wait, I don't have extra clothes with me..."

"That's okay, I'll let you borrow some of mine to sleep in and we can throw that into the washer machine, I have to wash a couple of shirts too anyway. They'll be ready for tomorrow."

"Can we watch an All Might documentary while we have dinner?" Izuku asks, already excited about the plan.

Katsuki rolls his eyes.

"Sure, you nerd."

"Great! I'll take a shower!"

He chooses one of the guests' rooms; yes, Katsuki's apartment has a couple of those, a laundry room and three bathrooms. He has never told Izuku how much he had to pay for his apartment, but he can definitely take a guess.

When he steps out of the bathroom, he finds a black shirt and shorts. They're really comfortable, even though Izuku is swimming in the shirt.

The kitchen smells delicious already.

"Do you need help?"

A couple of things happen when Katsuki turns around to look at him; he drops the chopsticks he's holding, curses and turns bright red as Izuku rushes towards him.

"Are you hurt, Kacchan? Do you need to rest?"

"No," he grumbles, looking away from Izuku. "I just got distracted. I'm fine!"

"Do you want me to help you?"

Katsuki's cheeks turn pink again, but this time he narrows his eyes.

"No, you're just a distraction."

Izuku pouts, but he leaves and sits on the couch. His mistake is making himself too comfortable because the next thing he knows is that someone is calling out his name and stroking his cheek.

"I didn't spend my time making this so you didn't eat it," Katsuki mumbles, irritated. Although Izuku notices concern written all over his face as he blinks his eyes open. "Besides, I know you haven't eaten anything since breakfast."

Izuku is too tired to ask him how he knows that; he moves a bit before taking the bowl and chopsticks in his hands.

It smells delicious.

"Thank you, Kacchan!"

"You're welcome," the pro hero smiles fondly at him before adding: "Now scoot over!"

"Do you have tea, Kacchan?"

"Already made you a cup."

"You're the best!"

"Of course I am!"

After he finishes his katsudon, Izuku curls up on the couch; he must've been more tired than he thought because he only manages to watch half of the documentary.

When he wakes up though, he's back in the guest room, lying on the bed. There's a mouthwatering smell of pancakes coming from the kitchen so he walks out as fast as he can.

"Good morning, nerd!" Katsuki smirks; Izuku can tell he's in a very good mood. "Your hair looks like a bird's nest."

"When does it not?" He mumbles, moving closer to the pancakes. He's not hundred percent awake yet so he's not sure the chuckle he heard came from Katsuki. "Honey?"

"Yes, baby?"

Izuku suddenly feels very much awake now. His face turns pink as Katsuki starts laughing like the devil he is.

"I-I meant the bottle of honey!" He stammers. "I want to know where you k-keep it!"

"I know, I know," the pro hero grins, still enjoying his little joke. Izuku pouts at him, but that makes him laugh again. "Third cabinet, nerd."

Izuku forgives him because he put blueberries in his pancakes and those are his favorites.

***

He has a meeting with Eraserhead or Aizawa (as he knows him) that morning; the first time he met the man, Izuku got really nervous, but he realized quickly that even though he's a strict boss, he's fair and kind.

"Midoriya, there's been a change of plans," he says as soon as he walks into his office. "Pro hero Shoto is coming in a couple of hours to learn about the missing students' situation, and I want you to gather all the information you have on the case and explain everything to him."

So the pro hero they chose to send is Todoroki Shoto himself.

"Sure! Do you have his contact information? I need to select a few documents so he can–"

"Actually, I'd like for you to explain it to him in person. Time's running out and I think you're the one who knows more about this case at the moment. You can use this office."

"Oh," Izuku mumbles, slightly nervous. He's about to meet the number two and he doesn't want to make a fool of himself. "Sure!"

It's alright, he has to push his fanboy self away for a moment. He needs to be professional about this.

***

As he gets all the information necessary for the case ready; he makes sure to reread the key points so he doesn't miss anything important during his conversation with pro hero Shoto.

Alright, he's slightly nervous about it; the pro hero with mismatched hair usually looks serious during his interviews and even though Izuku has the feeling that he doesn't quite know how to interact with the public, he's also afraid that he's a person with very little patience.

And Izuku tends to get on people's nerves when he rambles, or at least that's what his old classmates used to say about him.

He was a very solitary person during high-school because of that; he knows it's different now and that people actually like him, but sometimes his insecurities come back, especially whenever he remembers how some of his classmates treated him for being quirkless.

He's glad Katsuki wasn't there to see that.

Izuku closes his eyes for a moment, reminding himself that he's not in school anymore; things have changed. People don't treat quirkless individuals like that anymore.

Well, most of them don't.

He's sure pro hero Shoto doesn't; so far all heroes he has met have been really kind and good to him.

Especially Katsuki, but that's not a surprise since they're friends now.

"Are you alright, Midoriya? Do you need to go to the infirmary?"

Izuku blinks his eyes open again and mentally thanks Bushida for talking to him; he's at work, he should be focusing, pro hero Shoto will arrive soon.

"No, I'm fine!" He smiles, making a dismissive gesture with his hand. "How can I help you?"

It's weird to see her there, since she's from human resources.

"I don't want to bother you, but they told me you got your device," she mumbles, pointing at the necklace. "And I just wanted to remind you of the agency policy regarding relationships. Surely, my coworker mentioned you had to fill certain documents in case you started dating someone working for the agency as well, right?"

Izuku blinks a couple of times and tries to process the information she just gave to him. Yes, he knows about that already, but he's not sure why she's bringing it up now or what his device has anything to do with it.

"Yes, I know, but I'm not dating anyone at the moment."

She chuckles, just like Hatsume did when he asked about Dynamight's symbol.

"Good one."

"No, I'm not joking..." He insists, trying to make her understand with a look. "I'm single."

"But Dynamight gave you a device to keep you safe!"

He blushes. This is a serious misunderstanding he needs to fix immediately.

"No, this is from the agency! Hatsume put it on me the other day, I'm sure everyone has one–"

"No," she shakes her head and shows him her own bracelet, the one she said was a gift from her fiancé, another pro hero working for the agency. "These are benefits the agency offers pro heroes in case their families and significant others need help. They can get the standard ones for free, but if they want to design their own to make it original or romantic, like my fiancé did for me, they get charged extra for it. Yours looks even more expensive than mine."

The blush deepens and spreads down his neck. Izuku shakes his head. This is about his apartment, isn't it? Katsuki is still worried about that.

He needs to have a serious conversation with him soon.

"L-Listen, I know what this looks like, but Kacchan... I mean Dynamight! We are just friends. He just... gets overprotective sometimes!"

Bushida looks at him like she can't quite believe what he's saying.

"Well, okay. But if you two start dating, tell him you need to fill the documents I sent to your email, sign them and then send them back to me, alright?"

"Sure!" Izuku nods. "But that won't be necessary!"

"Whatever you say, pretty!"

He wonders if he should text Katsuki telling him he wants to talk as soon as possible, but then he gets Aizawa's message.

He's here.

I'm coming! He texts back before grabbing a few files he printed beforehand... he thinks those will be enough to show pro hero Shoto.

His conversation with Katsuki can wait.

***

Next--->

Patreon

[blood-and-mud]

Live, Laugh, Love Lawrence (help)

I get these little obsessions over Lawrence every 4 month or so, so I'm here to share some random unfiltered thoughts and disappear again:

Lawrence's struggles feel exceptionally human to me. He feels like the realest person when it comes to being afraid to be perceived as a monster. (His crying fit after being called a monster is what lives in my head rent-free) He feels so human when he is afraid and nervous, it's ironic.

Even though he is a massive coward, I came to a thought that he isn't a lying type. Of course, he lies from time to time, but he seems to be painfully bad at it, and when it comes to telling the truth, he either doesn't want to admit it to the verge of a breakdown or just says as it is. Maybe it's stupidity and he's just accidentally honest, but I like this part of him.

Also, I sometimes wonder which particular situations brought him so much shame. I see shame splattered all over him. I know there were a lot of mistakes made by his own hands, but what was the first disturbing thing he did? Was it a mistake? And what happened before that? And after?... I guess I'll just keep wondering

I always considered the reason for his unstable state to be his fear of admitting to himself what he is and what he likes. He was neglected and outcasted his whole life, and I feel like he can't admit his dark desires to himself because it would mean they had a reason to. That he deserved it. What a frustrating situation, isn't it? I think his mind agrees, this is how you get sleep-deprived twitchy creeps with inability to emotionally regulate themselves.

For some reason, I think of the word "tender" when I remember Law. In some (maybe most) situations he is everything but tender, but I can't unlink this word from him.

Law would have greatly benefited from schema-therapy if he had the balls to face himself (and maybe was mortal :D)

I wonder if he ever bit himself to just see what happens (I'm sad 'cause he would have bit someone for sure if he wanted to)

I also involuntary realized he is involuntary celibates (or an incel). And even though I can get over the fact that stereotypes about man who just can't get a partner being incels aren't always true, but Lawrence did worse things than just having a questionable online presence. This thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth...

I wonder if he ever wanted to become a mortician. (He is the type of guy that makes people enforce only hiring women though)

"The Consequences of imagination is fear"&"Drown me" by Junie & TheHutFriends are MC meeting Lawrence-coded IMO

PS. it's just a random pic to a random post.

[paddlescuddlesbubblesgurgles]

happy new year! I wish I had some sexy thing to say or some wise words to start the new year, but instead I think I’ll say what I feel: tired, but optimistic. I’ve had such a lame year, most of it felt like a nightmarish haze, or a bad day over and over, but there was some big highlights.

I met some wonderful new people pretty much constantly through the whole year.

I fell in love, and even though it ended in heartbreak, it made me know I can fall in love. I wasn’t sure exactly how it felt before, but it was hard and fast and heart pounding, and so wonderful for every moment. I’m changed beyond words.

I traveled. So thankful I got to travel for a 3rd of the year!

I found lots of new music.

I gained about 50lbs(?!?!?!??) which caused me to need a new wardrobe, and it has been beyond lovely. I’ve self actualized so deeply this year with my appearance, and even though I have more to do, I feel so happy with my presentation.

I learned so much about how I process grief and sadness, and what I need in my day to day life. I learned so many new feelings and experiences.

I learned so much about my kinks and roles. I’ve always been a dominant, a BD/SM practitioner, and a feedist, but I learned so much more about what I need, and who I need, and what I’m capable of. I am much closer to accurately self identifying my roles.

I truly came into my own as a serious feeder / feedee, and dominant / caregiver. I know I need to fulfill these roles in someone’s life, and I know a lot more about what my ideal partner looks like.

I know I’d like to settle down and get real ‘domestic’. This was something I knew before, but this year made me realize how much I want it.

I made a tumblr blog to help me process my feelings, an outlet for leftover love and lust, and a place to explore my unbridled perversion and self expression. As you all know I blog like crazy.

I learned that people love my thoughts. All my online presences before this one have been based around pictures of my body and witty captions, and while I’ve gained plenty of attention and admirers in those spaces, I’ve blown all my previous fame out of the water. I’m approaching 100k notes(?!?!?!!!?) and I have over 2000 followers. Pretty much all of them are invested in just my perverted thoughts and experiences. I cannot thank you enough, it’s so kind.

I could go on and on about me, but it is clear: what a year it’s been. I believe this blog is temporary. I made it to process that heartbreak, and create a feed for someone whom I don’t think will ever read it, or maybe not for a very long time. I’ll most likely be processing it in pieces for a long time, but I know a time will come where this part of me, and my heart, must remain set in stone. Left behind as a little memento of my love, lust, and suffering. A small monument to my feelings and growth and self expression. I’ll never leave tumblr completely and I’m sure I’ll blog forever, but someday pcbg will stop posting, and I’ll disappear into the woodwork. Maybe I’ll come back, maybe I won’t. Life is often seasonal, and all too often cyclic.

happy new year! May it be wonderful. Love those you love deeply, and laugh as much as you can. Hold your head up, and hope. You deserve to be happy.

[howireallyfeels]

Worn Soles on Unchosen Paths

My Midlife Crisis

It’s strange how friendships form, unexpected and fleeting. Some stay, become confidants when you least expect it, while others vanish, leaving only faint memories. In high school, I didn’t know what was happening inside me, but I found solace in these friends. They became my lifeline when everything else felt uncertain.

Then came college, a place I didn’t choose, studying a course I never wanted. But I stayed, grateful that at least I was studying, despite the quiet resentment building in my heart. I watched others with lives that seemed easier, wondering why I was the one trapped in someone else’s dream. The weight of it all sank deep, pulling me into dark places, thoughts of ending it all, of crossing busy streets without looking, of disappearing without causing pain. I skipped meals, lost weight, lied to myself and everyone else, saying I was preparing for Miss Universe.

But in the midst of this storm, I met two girls. Unlikely saviors from another section, they introduced me to a family who would unknowingly pull me back from the brink. It was through them I met a priest who became a close friend, though I never knew if he saw me the same way. He brought me closer to God when I was drifting far from everything. No one knew the chaos in my mind, only me and the silence that grew louder with each passing day.

I was lost in a crisis of identity, torn between who I was and who the world expected me to be. There were days I walked aimlessly, my feet carrying me to a bridge where I stood, wondering if the fall would be my release. I never jumped, but the thought of it followed me like a shadow.

And then came the era of dating apps.

In those spaces, I felt even more lost, like I didn’t belong anywhere. Ghosted so many times that each instance cracked my soul a little more, I began to expect the pain. I stopped counting after 50, became someone who played along because that’s all I could do. The world blurred between the people I met online and the life I lived offline. I became the friend always there when needed, the one who would drop everything, but never the one remembered for my own needs. Birthdays went unnoticed except for a Facebook notification. I was the friend who existed on the fringes of everyone else’s life.

The dating app era continued, longer than I care to remember. When I wasn’t lost in the endless cycle of matches, I was sitting alone in a cinema, watching the same movie over and over, hoping someone, anyone, would notice my absence. But no one did. Not a single message. Not a single call. I was invisible.

It was during my third or fourth year of college when the circle of friends I held dear fell apart. Something happened, something I won’t speak of here, but I lost someone close, someone who was always there. The fallout left me even more alone, unsure of anything. I had no choice but to move on, to leave the chaos behind and start my OJT in Manila.

Manila, a city full of strangers but, ironically, where I felt more seen than ever. The dating apps were still a part of my life, but now I was meeting people who were just as lost as I was. I spent time with friends who made me feel wanted, who let me vent, who didn’t make me feel like a third wheel despite my constant presence. My OJT was a brief escape, a fleeting moment where I was appreciated, where I experienced luxury and felt, for the first time, valued at work.

But it was short-lived, like everything else in my life.

Manila was full of memories, but even those couldn’t save me from the quiet emptiness that always seemed to follow.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

His Partner (Part 1): Keizo Arashi x Fem!Reader

synopsis: no one dares touch Redcliff's girl. he's the only one who has permission.

wc: 926

tw: angst

masterlist

You hear him before you see him.

Big, clomping footsteps paired with long strides - you'd know the sound of his arrival anywhere. Especially here, in the brothel.

There's a pause at your door, and you look up from the mountain of paperwork to watch the door creak, maybe. To watch him stride in and take claim to his domain once more. But all you're met with is a timid knock. Odd.

"Come in," you mutter just loud enough for him to hear outside of the door, then return your eyes to the papers, pen poised to initial on the documents. The door opens slowly, and you catch his scent - which always preceded him - before you see his shoes step through the door. You try not lose yourself in the smell of expensive cologne, focusing on the blurring words in front of you with extreme concentration. "Wonderful of you to stop by, Redcliff."

"I got your message." You drop the pen in exasperation and look up at him, noting the out-of-place look he's giving you. Why the hesitation now? Wasn't this where he showed his strength, his dominion?

"I need you to sign the lease renewal and the checks for the previous month's utilities." Keizo nods, standing in front of your desk with his hands stuffed in his bomber jacket pockets. "Is it cold in here?" You wonder, standing up from your seat and moving to the thermostat.

"No," he answers quickly, walking closer to the desk. "It's fine."

"Good," you quip, turning the heat down. "The girls complain about the temperature all the time." You take another look at the man, his ice blue eyes looking at you intently. "What?"

His lips quirk at your snapped remark. "The papers?" Your feet carry you back to your desk and you quickly push the items over to him, sliding the cheap pen across the space before turning to your computer.

"Backdate the checks." He bends over to take the pen in his massive hands. You clench your mouse a little tighter.

"You're upset."

"No," you answer. "Not at all."

"You're being short with me."

"I just need you to keep your end of the business running."

"Well," Keizo sighs. "I'm here now."

"Three months too late," you grunt, typing away at an email before sending it off. Keizo's since stopped signing.

"It's been that long?" You turn your head toward him, a scowl marring your features. Keizo looks at you with empty eyes, and your skin bristles.

"Do you not know how long you spend away from this place?" you inquire nastily. "Three months and we've been festering without your presence."

"I thought you had control--"

"To a point," you gripe, gripping the armrests of the seat as you sit back in the office chair. "I can't fight off the men who come and harass the girls every single time." Keizo's face screws up in confusion. "Of course, you didn't know. You only show up when it suits you to fuck and leave."

"I'm here now," he repeats, but this time it sounds hollow, almost like he doesn't believe it himself.

"Just finish signing so you can disappear like always and leave me to do the dirty work."

"I'll send more guys to guard the place," Keizo murmurs, dropping the pen back down on the desk. "I'm sure that'll help with some of the issues."

"And can you be on time with the rent?" you add, defeated.

"You need to start paying those bills online," he retorts, straightening up.

"I'm not going to do that. You know people can hack into--"

"It's the business bank account--"

"You can't seriously think that shit is sec--"

"And a check in the mail is? Come on, y/n--"

"Everything okay in here?" you both hear, watching a blonde head peek past the doorframe.

"We're fine," you both say at the same time, suddenly realizing how loud you'd gotten. The door shuts once more and you sigh, slumping in the chair.

"What's this really about?" Keizo whispers, leaning a bit closer to the desk. "You haven't been sleeping well. And my absence has never really... bothered you. You keep busy while I'm away, I'm sure. What's different this time?"

"How do you know I'm not sleeping?" you scoff. Keizo points at the half-empty prescription bottle on the nighttable in the corner of the room, near your bed. You look away and shrug.

"Talk to me." Keizo reaches out to turn your chin toward him, and you shiver. He looks so earnest, so concerned... "Whatever you have to say, I can take it." You try to hold back the flood of emotion, but it comes out in a rush.

"Last time you were here, you left me alone. You didn't even say goodbye, you just up and left and--" You almost choke on your words. "I felt so used, so discarded, and you didn't even... I felt like a cheap whore."

"You're not a whore," Keizo murmurs, shaking his head. You swallow hard as he walks around the desk, crouching down to look you in the eye and holding your hands in his. "I'm sorry I made you feel that way. I thought would be easier - that you preferred it that way - but I see I was wrong." You nod, and he stands up, holding your chin in his palm. "That's my girl. All you needed was for me to show up, huh?" You nod again, and he smirks. "Don't worry, babe. I'll make things right."

[anonquack]

| Chef Q |

Alex Quackity x Reader, Oneshot, Requested by: @anotherdreamsimp !!

Word Count: 3328

Warnings: Some curse words, mainly just some fluff !

Summary: Quackity hasn't been streaming recently, and decides to come back with a cooking stream. Featuring you as a special guest.

Lately, Quackity had been studying like crazy for his final exams. That meant no streaming. He'd take a break from it to focus entirely on his studies. Absolutely nothing else.

He claimed to have his priorities straight, and had the goal to pass all exams with high scores in order to keep his grades looking wonderful.

This also meant there was rarely any time spent between you two, beside the occasional snack breaks you forced him to take so he wouldn't die at his desk.

It was tough not being able to show him a random video you'd found on the timeline, or walking up to chat with him whenever you wanted, but you knew this was very important to him. So you gladly supported him and offered as much support as possible.

Thankfully, all of his studying paid off and he passed with flying colors. A teacher had even informed him that he'd received the top score for one of his final exams.

You were the first person to hear the news, and you couldn't help but feel the adoration coursing through your body at how excited he was to tell you. Jumping up and down and shaking you lightly as he told you about his scores.

You'd offered to take him out for a celebratory meal, to treat him for all his hard work and also since you missed the fun outings with him. There was no way he was saying no to that.

—

After a day out and about, you two had made your way back home. Both of you were pleasantly full, having enjoyed the meal and also dessert. His request, for "doing so well on his finals." How could you possibly deny him that?

You both were also very content, a warmth and comfort surrounding the air around you two the entirety of the outing.

One thing that was impossible not to notice was how he'd become exceptionally clingy as soon as you two were out of the car. Gripping onto your hand tightly as you singlehandedly unlocked the front door.

"I've missed you so much these past few days." He murmered as you finally got the door to open and pulled him inside.

"I've missed you too." You hummed softly. It was always nice hearing him say these things. You locked the front door, and gently pulled at his hand to lead him back to your room.

It didn't take much of a pull for him to willingly follow you. "Can we cuddle or something?" He asked softly, almost as if he was a bit embarrassed to ask. You turned to him and gave him a grin, along with a small nod.

You'd missed him, even if you two had been in the same apartment this whole time. You'd especially been missing cuddles with him, considering he studied pretty much all day. There wasn't enough time being shared together so you gladly agreed to some cuddling.

Sooner than later, you two found yourselves in your pajamas, laying in bed peacefully as you scrolled through tiktok, screen tilted in order for him to see as well. It really was so nice finally being able to be this close to him again.

After some time, you found yourself looking through tweets on the timeline. A certain one caught his attention and he asked you to stop scrolling.

It was a tweet from a fan, saying they missed Quackity since he hadn't streamed in two weeks, but that overall they hoped his tests were going fine.

"Has it really been 2 weeks?" He asked aloud as he clicked on it and looked through the replies, all agreeing with the original tweet.

"Mm.. two and a half, I think." You answered, looking at him curiously as a guilty expression appeared on his face.

"Hey." You called out once you saw the expression wasn't leaving. He turned to you with a small frown.

"It's fine. You had a good reason for being gone so long. I'm sure they understand. Plus, you'll be back soon, right?" You asked, to which he nodded before sitting up from the cuddling position you two were in.

You sat up as well, noticing how his eyes widened slightly, and a small smile made its way onto his face.

"I just got a great idea." He exclaimed. "Y'know, I was going to just spend the next few days with you since I missed you but– how about we stream something together? That way I can enjoy both, and the fans get a stream too."

You stared at him in surprise. The fans did know he was dating someone, but you rarely ever came out on streams, not because he didn't want you to but because you didn't deem it to be necessary.

The few times you had been on, you'd received tons of love and support from the chat, so you didn't think anything too bad would happen if you were to appear on his stream again.

"What did you have in mind?" You asked curiously. The other times you'd been on were him playing horror games and an extremely scuffed IRL stream.

"Well.. I haven't done a cooking stream in a while." He began, but you quickly shook your head.

"Oh no. Don't tell me you're going to make us eat some monstrosity‐ like your past cooking streams." You visibly shuddered at the thought. You remember having to help clean up the mess after. And no matter how funny it had been, the actual cleanup was awful.

"No no– I was thinking maybe we do a serious one, y'know? Chat hasn't really been able to see my cooking abilities, and well.. I'd say I am pretty good at it." He grinned. He was unfortunately right.

You relaxed at the mention of it being a 'serious' cooking stream. It could never really be too serious when it came to Quackity, but it meant not eating dog food or poorly made pizza. You were in.

"So we'll make an actual.. edible.. meal?" You questioned again, just to be sure. To which he nodded.

"Yeah, and we can enjoy that meal after. Like a date. What do you say?" He was beaming. It was his creativity rolling in. And he was probably so proud of himself for finding a way to spend time with you yet also give chat the stream content they'd been missing out on.

"Alright. I'm in."

You hadn't seen him this eager to get out of bed and head to the grocery store ever before. Chat was really in for a fun stream tomorrow.

—

He'd tweeted it out several hours before you two planned on starting the stream that he'd be streaming today with a special guest, and that he had his chef hat ready to go.

As you scrolled through Twitter you could see the timeline freaking out over 'COOKING STREAM' and 'SPECIAL GUEST'. Lots of discussion over who it was.

You couldn't help but feel a bit bad since the fans were probably speculating that he'd met up with his online friends, but in reality it was just you. In that case, you'd try your best to make this a fun stream, and your presence an enjoyable one.

As the time for the stream to start got closer, you helped him set the ingredients you'd be using onto the table, in a way where it was in perfect view for the stream to see and follow along if they wished.

"We're supposed to start in 5." You called out as he slipped his beanie on, fixing the few hair strands that were sticking out a bit too much.

He smiled and made his way over to you, cupping your face and giving you a small kiss. "I'm so excited to do some cooking with you. They're all going to love you."

You couldn't help the warm feeling that spread over your chest at his words. It was like introducing you all over again. He'd recently gained a lot of new followers, and that meant they probably had no idea who you were. Always fun going through that again.

He dealt with some last minute editing and placing, checking all ingredients were there and that everything was set, before hitting the 'Go Live' button.

It didn't take long for the viewers to increase after the tweet notification went out, and the starting soon screen was the only thing really protecting you two from the roaring chat.

Everyone was dying to know what was going on, who the special guest was, and whether this would be yet another scuffed cooking stream.

You stood behind the camera as the starting soon screen finally disappeared and he began greeting the viewers, thanking all the subs coming in, and eventually also giving them a little update on how he'd done on his exams.

You felt so proud as you watched him boast about how his studying had paid off, and how he talked about being the happiest he'd been in a while. He deserved all of it. And chat thought so too.

After some rambling about his test scores and what they'd be cooking today, chat finally became too impatient and asked for a reveal of the special guest.

"Fine. Fine. Since you guys are so fucking impatient." He huffed, watching as chat flew by, telling him to 'get on with it' and to 'TELL US WHO IT IS'. You couldn't help but laugh at the relationship he had with his chat. Always bullying each other but usually knowing when to stop and send love.

"I've actually had them on multiple other streams, not so much recently.. but they've been on my horror streams.. some IRL streams.. and they are really really special to me, chat!" He said with a big smile. Some of chat was confused as to who he was referring to, while older fans began to question if it was YOU. They were very smart.

"Some of the viewers might not know of them, so this is like I'm introducing them to chat all over again! Come over here." He finally directed the last part at you. You couldn't help but feel the sudden spike in anxiety, but chose to ignore it as you smiled back at him and headed into the frame beside him.

With a small wave and a greeting, you watched as chat completely broke. A mess of question marks and your name being spread in chat. You couldn't help but laugh. It was an overwhelmingly positive reaction as Quackity explained to new viewers that you were his partner, and that older fans were already aware of this for a while now.

The amount of 'y/n our beloved' and people asking if quackity's partner was single were abundant in chat, and you couldn't help but feel stupid for thinking the newer viewers would hate you or something.

Having the approval of Quackity's chat also made you feel lighter, it made it easier to let go and just enjoy the cooking stream.

You two began to explain what you'd be cooking to chat, and you made it very clear that he actually had to try and cook this time, to which chat agreed wholeheartedly.

He'd taken a recipe from his mom for one of his favorite meals, one he hadn't had in a while. He explained to chat that he wanted to see how well you and him could recreate it until you two took a trip to visit his family.

"Hopefully we don't disappoint her too much." You mumbled as he placed the chef hat onto your head, fixing it so you looked presentable.

"She can't be because we're actually gonna try." He stated before beginning to explain to chat what the meal was since many of them might not have even heard of it before. As he did that, you began to set aside the ingredients you wouldn't be needing until later.

After everything had been explained, it was time to get cooking. His concentration to try and recreate his mom's recipe was adorable, and chat agreed on that too.

This stream wasn't loud and messy like the others, but it was still enjoyable in its own way. Quackity was radiating such wonderful light and energy, cracking jokes and genuinely enjoying himself. It was all thanks to the stress and worries being lifted off his back. You really enjoyed seeing him like this.

Chat was able to follow along later if they wanted with how organized you guys were being, but the banter he had with you and chat made it entertaining to any casual viewer. He always found a way to make it fun.

Not only that, but chat was able to see a new side of him. The Chef Q side. More often than not, a message would roll in saying they were amazed by how good Quackity actually was at cooking. You could already imagine some of the edits that'd come out of the stream.

His mom had told you two beforehand how long it would normally take to cook this meal, and it was perfect for a usual stream and some extras where you two would actually get to try the food.

There was moments where chat was warning you two that the food would burn or that he'd accidentally set the kitchen on fire, but overall you were enjoying yourself so much.

And chat was enjoying your presence too!

By the time you two managed to finish the meal, you both plopped down onto the chairs he'd set for the supposed 'breaks'.

He had some of the sauce on his cheek and his apron, but still managed to look good. He'd also smeared sauce onto your cheek, and at this point some strands were sticking out of your hat in such a messy way since the last few minutes had been rather hectic, food almost burning and all.

"Chat. We did it." He called out before cheering loudly and clapping his hands, to which you swiftly followed along, chat beginning to cheer as well.

"I think its only right that we try what we made, don't you think?" You ask, to which chat quickly types YES in all caps, wanting to see the finished product and also find out if it even tastes good.

Quackity let out a chuckle as he smiled over at you. "Not gonna lie, I'm a little nervous. We haven't even seen it so it might just be black. Burnt to a crisp. Or what if it tastes like shit? Y/N i don't know what I'm going to do if the food tastes like shit. Thats what we're supposed to eat on our date." He whined a bit.

You shook your head, "It'll be great. And if not, we can just order takeout. It'll be fine big q." You smiled reassuringly. Chat became a frenzy of calling him cute for the state he was in, declaring their love for how supportive and kind you were, and melting over your relationship.

Before you knew it, you were both revealing the meal to chat, and pleasantly surprised by the results. The presentation of the meal itself looked really good. It looked like what you'd expect from such a plate. Quackity had even gone as far as saying it looked similar to how his mom made it.

You gasped, smiling in surprise at him. "Really? Did we really do that good of a job." His face turned into one of regret, and a long segment of silence engulfed you two before he nodded hesitantly. You both broke out into a fit of laughter.

"Okay okay, seriously. Chat's waiting for you to try it." You placed a fork in front of him, earning a loud scoff from him.

"They want to see you try it as well." He mirrored your actions and you gladly took the fork.

"Alright. First bite. Let's see if all our hard work paid off! Chat, are you ready?" You grinned and watched as the 'YES's started rolling in, some viewers telling you both to get the fuck on with it, and others gushing about how the food actually looked good. You could only hope.

You watched as he began to dig in, mouth full and chewing slowly, truly trying to savor the first bite. You did the same, and the stream was silent for the first time in a while. Chat was in suspense as well, question marks and incoherent rambling rolling through the chat.

"Chat..." he finally spoke after swallowing his bite. "Chat. It's." He paused before showing a small smile. "It's not bad at all. I like it. It's good."

You nodded your head in agreement, "It's nowhere near as good as the ones your mom makes.. but I think you and I make a pretty good team."

"I think so too. And not just for cooking." He grinned, earning himself a playful eye roll and shy smile from you.

The stream proceeded to you two feeding each other bites of the meal, asking each other if it was good, and just enjoying yourselves for a bit longer before Quackity deemed it was time to end.

"Chat !! Thank you so much for tuning in and watching this.. actually coordinated cooking stream. I had so much fun and well, I ate yummy food. I'm happy." He laughed, thanking a few more gifters before doing his signature Bye, and ending stream.

He hurried over to your side, pulling you into a hug. "Thank you so much. I truly had fun. And they definitely loved you, but not nearly as much as I do."

You chuckled at his words, giving him a small kiss before cupping his face. "I had a lot of fun too. Thank you for always being so nice to me." You paused, observing how cute he looked with his chef hat still on. "I think I like Chef Alex." You reached over and fixed his hat a bit.

"Yeah? Should I keep it on?" He teased, coming a bit closer. You couldn't help the warmth that spread over your cheeks at how blunt he was.

"Yes, but you need to help me clean this up. Maybe after we finish the food, hm? C'mon. Don't think I forgot our deal."

He whined, already feeling too lazy, but he quickly followed after you as you two sat down to actually eat. Still wearing the silly attire he'd bought for the stream, far too unbothered to change just yet.

Through a mouthful he asked, "Cuddles and a nap after we're done?"

You smiled and nodded, to which he gave a silent cheer. That was enough motivation to get you both up and cleaning after finishing the meal.

—

Wrapped in each other's arms again. He couldn't seem to get enough of it. You were once again scrolling through Twitter, this time scrolling through his indirects, wanting to see what people were saying about the stream.

He'd ask you to stop to read certain ones he found funny, and even 'aww'd at the ones he found cute, mainly those talking about how cute you two looked.

Surely enough, there was already edits using the clips of him cooking, and you'd openly admitted to him that he looked "so fucking good." To which he responded by cuddling closer, if even humanly possible.

Quackity found the numerous clips of you two feeding each other to be the best part of the tweets. You two rewatched, saved, liked as many as you could before he became tired.

And with that, he was pulling you close, and leaving small kisses anywhere he could on your face. Eventually, his chest slowly rose and fell as he entered a deep slumber. You smiled, glad to see he was finally getting the rest he deserved.

"Goodnight, Alex." You whispered, leaving a small kiss on his cheek before closing your eyes as well.

[fatefulfaerie]

Of Regrets Not Reneged

A Happy September birthday to @obsidiangst. I hope you like it!

Zelda refused to admit she was cold, despite the fact that she was beginning to shiver. It hadn’t been like this when she left her dorm and so she couldn’t truly blame herself for not bringing a sweater.

Her leg bobbed up and down, her ankle shaking absentmindedly as she sat on the bench. Whether it was nerves or the cold, she had no idea, and she likely guessed it was both.

She tried to think of warm things but the cold, fall gust of wind that made the orange and brown leaves drift cut right through her form-fitting jeans and made her forearms adorn themselves with small bumps. Zelda moved her hands under her legs so that she sat on them, conserving at least some warmth.

She looked down at her feet and thought of why she sat here in wait, not knowing whether or not she should regret wanting some hot tea from the local coffee shop after her chem lab, replaying in her mind the moment the barista came to take her order and had blue eyes and blonde hair. She ordered her hot green tea trying to ignore the fact that this was the boy who went on a couple dates with her and then disappeared off the face of the earth when she texted him about a third date.

He had acted like he had never even met her until he handed her the tea ten minutes later.

“I get off at 4,” he had said. “Meet me at the benches in front of the library?”

Zelda had said yes in reply. It was apparent that their awkward eye contact when he took her order was indeed an exchange of questions. Perhaps he wanted to meet to explain himself.

So she waited at the benches in front of the library. It was 4:03. Was this another rouse to embarrass her? Did he take delight in getting her hopes up with no intention of following through?

Zelda decided she would wait until 4:15 to find out.

She saw him approaching at 4:07. She pursed her lips with a slight forced smile to be polite, all the while hoping that one of the to-go cups of coffee he held was for her.

“Pumpkin Spice,” he said. It was like a peace offering. He shared the same smile, yet there was an apology and sadness in his eyes. Zelda didn’t take it immediately, so he felt the need to explain himself. “You told me once that it’s your favorite when it’s in season but you don’t always get it because you see it as a treat.”

Zelda tried to hide the way her heart swooned. She tried to remember that this was the young man who ignored her for an entire month. She took the coffee nonetheless, letting it warm up her hands. 

It was a wonderful sensation.

Even more wonderful was how it tasted when she put it to her lips. She couldn’t even remember the last time she let herself have one of these. It was usually after a big test or an exhaustingly long week.

“Thanks,” she said after that first delectable sip, remembering he probably wanted to talk and looked down at the coffee in her hands. She felt his presence sit down next to her.

She had to give him credit, though. Most guys who ghost girls don’t care to give an explanation. It had never happened to her before but she once heard a guy at the cafeteria say that he stopped texting a girl just because her nose was too small.

Since then, Zelda lived in a constant back and forth within herself trying to guess what feature of hers Link didn’t like. She had once thought that he wasn’t as shallow as other guys, but they had only been on a couple dates. Perhaps she had misjudged him.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said. Zelda looked over to his hands. He hadn’t drank a single sip of his hot chocolate. Her slight smile came from the fact that she remembered how much he liked hot chocolate.

“You don’t have to—“

“I do,” he interrupted. “And you know it. It’s the reason you came.”

Zelda was silenced. He was right.

Link took a deep breath. It was shaky. Zelda stared at the ground preparing herself for what shallow thing he had to say. 

Your proportions are just all wrong.

She had to remember not to apologize for that one. It was her parents who gave her the small breasts and the wide hips. If he couldn’t get past that, he was not worth her trouble.

Your voice is so annoying.

She supposed she could take that one. Sometimes she felt like her voice wore on other people, that she talked too much, and she absolutely hated how her voice sounded when recorded.

“My dad died,” he finally said. Zelda froze. She felt the color drain from her face. “My mom called a couple days after our second date. He always had problems with his heart but he had an attack that was fatal.”

Zelda was speechless and so she just sat there like an idiot, regretting every bad thought she had about this guy over the past month.

‘I didn’t want to talk to anyone, not even my mom,” he explained. “I asked my teachers if I could send in my papers via email and take my tests online. I had to drop the two classes that didn’t let me. The other three did.”

“Link…”

“I picked up my phone to call you seven times,” Link insisted. She felt his eyes on her. She looked up and over to him. “But then I thought about how busy you are with your labs and stuff, how we might not have known each other long enough for me to dump all my problems on you...I felt even worse when you would text me but...I just couldn’t reply. I knew that if you asked how I was or if we met up I would just explode into a ball of tears. I didn’t want you to see that side of me and once I started getting out of mourning I figured you would want nothing to do with me, that I’d lost my shot.”

Zelda reached out and took his hand. His surprise was evident.

“You didn’t,” she said, before repeating. “You didn’t.”

She tightened her grip and Link’s chest sank with relief, melting into her touch. His eyes looked as if they could leak tears at any moment, but they didn’t.

“I am so sorry for your loss,” Zelda said softly, making sure their eyes met. “I want you to know that you can reach out to me any time you need. You don’t have to worry about showing a more vulnerable side. You’re only human and you are going through a lot.”

His eyes blinked and melted more. 

“I missed you so much,” Link said, and Zelda blushed. Her smile was genuine this time.

“I missed you too.”

[deathwishy]

×Childhood Friends×

Marinette never forgot the boy with steel eyes and silver tongue.

They met when she was ten. Her parents were hired to do the catering at a party, one to celebrate the opening of the Parisian branch of Wayne Enterprises. Of course the Drakes would be there. They too were planning to expand Drake Industries to Europe, and while it would have been best to be the first ones in Paris, it could still be beneficial.

Tim was twelve at the time, and already knew who Batman was. His parents left him alone most of the time so he had plenty of opportunities to analyze and admire the vigilantes at night. The days were filled with tutors coming and going, a nosy nanny and tons of homework to be done. Thankfully, Batman didn't usually come out in the light of day. He didn't actively try to figure out their identities most of the time, but when he saw the first Robin executing a complicated maneuver, that could be done by only a handful of people, the pieces fell into place. But he kept quiet. He erased every piece of evidence he collected, paper and online data, anything that could lead someone else to the same conclusion.

Marinette was sitting with her parents in the kitchen, sometimes helping her papa with arranging sweets on plates or bringing them to the guests. She liked helping her parents when she could.

Marinette met Tim in the garden of the hotel. He excused himself from his parents to go take photos of the Eiffel Tower, that was close to where the party was. Marinette got out to take a breath of fresh air, the kitchen was hot and her parents didn't need help at the moment.

She noticed him sitting on a bench, looking at his camera.

"<Good evening!>" She greeted him in French.

He was startled, almost dropping his camera.

"<I'm so sorry! I thought you heard me coming.>"

It took a few seconds for Tim to adjust his eyes from the light of the camera display to the darkness of the garden. There was a girl, of mixed descent, in a simple bubblegum pink dress. Her hair was as midnight black, long and tied in pigtails. He gave her a little smile.

"<Not a problem. I was just setting my camera, it needs to be adjusted to capture the lights of the tower better.>" He tried to hide his American accent, but he knew she still caught it.

"You're American, yes? If you'd like, I can speak English too. Mama said it's good to know something else other than French. I would like to practice as well."

Her English was good. Riddled with a thick French accent but still understandable. He nodded and patted the bench, signaling that she could stay too. She sat down with a bright smile. She extended her hand.

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

"Timothy Drake. But you can call me Tim."

And so they met. They shared their art interests, his love for photography, her love for drawing. She mentioned her growing interest in fashion and he shared his love for IT. They were so different yet so alike. She was form a middle class family of bakers, that loved her with all they had, he was from a rich family, had all he could have ever wanted, except for the love of his parents. But he didn't mention that.

She was entranced by his fervor when talking about his local heroes, or vigilantes, as he called them, and found that she could listen to him all night. He found that he could talk to her just as long, easily, as he could never before. He was happy to bring that sparkle of interest in her eyes.

But the bubble of happiness was soon burst by one Janet Drake.

Tim knew he was in trouble. Others couldn't see the fire behind her gray eyes, only Tim could. He shot up from the bench, startling Marinette in the process.

"Timothy. We have to go." Marinette shivered under her cold gaze, even if it wasn't directed to her. But what mother could look at her own son like that?

"Good evening, Madame." Marinette tried, but soon stepped back, almost cowering under the woman's gaze. Even if it was only for a second.

"Now."

She made one motion with her head, turning on her heels, and heading back into the building. Tim only waved and soon disappeared with his mother. Marinette didn't even get the chance to say goodbye. But she felt like it wasn't the last time she would see Timothy Drake.

                                                        ...

The next time they met, he was Robin. She was Ladybug. She was thirteen, he was fifteen. They didn't know who each other was. Being in Paris brought a longing in Tim's heart for a lost friend, but he knew he couldn't search for the pigtailed girl. Marinette felt her heart ache, missing the American boy she once befriended.

Batman came to Paris shortly after Stoneheart. After speaking to Diana, she granted her passage into Paris along with Robin and Batman to try assess the situation and develop a battle plan.

They set the meeting in the outskirts of Paris, in a abandoned building to try and hide the presence of the Justice League and keep their involvement a secret. They didn't need Hawkmoth on watch 24/7 after an angry superhero he could akumatize.

Ladybug swung through a broken window, Chat Noir jumping through moments after. They both landed at the same time, in front of the American heroes.

"Ladybug, Black Cat, it's an honor to meet the new wielders." Wonder Woman greeted with a slight bow. Robin followed suit, even if a little wobbly. Batman only bowed his head.

"There is no need for that," Ladybug blushed, bowing in return. "We haven't done any heroic feats worthy of such respect yet."

"Being chosen is always a reason to pride with, Ladybug. And the defeat of Stoneheart is quite remarkable for someone as young as yourself."

Batman frowned. Just how young were they?

"My lady is always modest. She doesn't believe me when I say she's incredible."

Ladybug rolls her eyes and punches Chat, making him giggle. Robin was eyeing him, scrutinizing every aspect. He had an extensible staff, like his, but obviously magic. His fighting style would match the Bats better, and Ladybug's yo-yo was very much like Wonder Woman's lasso. They already knew she would go to Themiscyra to train with Hippolyta but a bit of the Bats teachings would not hurt.

"As you know, miraculous magic protects our identities. It's the same thing for Hawkmoth. It will be hard to find and figure him out, unless we have irrefutable evidence." Ladybug began, opening her yo-yo.

"What we know so far is that he wants our miraculous, the Ladybug and the Black Cat. Our Kwami said that by merging the two, the wielder is granted a potentially reality altering wish. Unfortunately for now, that's all the information we have on him. It's going to take some time."

Through all her explanation, Batman was already thinking. They couldn't stay in Paris, even if the chance was small, they could be akumatized, that wasn't a viable option. Even an akumatized Robin would be a major problem. He had two years of training, the new heroes had almost none. He could see that Chat Noir had some, maybe fencing or swordplay by his posture and slight gestures. The girl maybe had some light self defense training. Maybe gymnastics recently.

"Ladybug shall come at times to Themiscyra to train with the Amazons, Chat Noir, you will go with the Bat."

Chat Noir began fidgeting.

"Um, my home life doesn't allow me to introduce intense training into my schedule. The best I can do is go out at night. My d... My parents don't know about this and with my obligations I can't just leave."

Robin, no, Tim knew as soon as Chat Noir opened his mouth. In that moment, he could see himself in the leather clad superhero. The controlling parents that had such high expectations of him, the suppressing nature that made him not even dare question their word. He was going to say that his dad doesn't know about it. So either his mother knows, which is unlikely, or he only has his father.

Tim was almost sure that Bruce came to the same conclusion. It would have been harder for someone that didn't personally know but he was the world's greatest detective for a reason. Batman nodded.

"Actually it is best if we do it at night. Maybe there will be less of a chance for someone to get akumatized. But not much, you still need sleep."

Chat Noir nodded vigorously, now smiling.

After going over some details regarding the training, the two teams went on their ways.

Chat Noir, happy that someone understood and actually made a compromise that worked for him too.

Ladybug, with a heavy heart, thinking about the battles ahead. And maybe about a certain boy.

Batman and Wonder Woman, both trying to not burn down every building in Paris in search of Hawkmoth.

Robin, with sorrow in his heart, for the boy that is like he once was, for the girl that was so close yet so far, for two kids that had to fight the battles of adults.

                                                         ...

This time, they met as Robin and Marinette.

It was in the same year, only a few months later. Robin was perched on a rooftop, waiting for Batman to finish the training session with Chat Noir. They had to zeta tube back to Gotham that night to go on patrol with the rest. There was an unusual rise in criminal activity and they needed all hands on deck.

"Mister Robin, sir!" there was an almost whisper from a balcony on the building next to the one he was sitting in. One on top of a bakery. There was someone there. They looked around and then signaled with their hand to come over.

There was a girl there, one that he recognized almost immediately. She didn't have the same long hair, but it was still tied in pigtails. She was taller and her voice changed a bit but he knew it was her. The girl from the garden, Marinette. He leveled his breath and jumped the narrow gap between the buildings on her balcony, on a shadowed portion.

"Is there a problem?" He asked, checking out the surroundings at the same time.

"No, sir, I just wanted to give you something." She reached to the table and pulled up two boxes. They looked like pastry boxes.

"I don't think people are supposed to know about you being here but I saw you a few times already. I don't know if anyone else did, I didn't ask around and haven't heard anything, but I wanted to thank you for helping Ladybug and Chat Noir, assuming that's what you're doing, so I made some pastries as a 'Thank you'. And, ah, again, thank you. I know that maybe things in Gotham can get pretty hectic and you are coming here too so, ah, I thought these can help, even if a little bit."

Robin listened through her rambling. She got flustered and started fidgeting midway through so he took the boxes from her hands when she stopped to breathe.

"Thank you, that is very considerate. We prefer to not make our involvement in Paris known so it would be appreciated if you still kept quiet."

She nods, smiling, then adds. "I sometimes leave some out here for our heroes too. Feel free to pass by anytime."

He gives her a little smile, then cups his ear when his com comes to life.

'Robin, rendezvous point. I'll be there in 5.'

"I have to go now. It was nice meeting you."

She takes a step back, he pulls out his grappling gun, boxes secured at his chest, and with small waves, he leaves the balcony.

                                                            ...

When they came across each other again, it was a year later. He was Timothy Drake. She was Ladybug.

He started working at Wayne Enterprises with his father. The parisian branch had some odd numbers so they came to Paris as Tim and Bruce to investigate, but didn't go out as Batman and Robin. Unlike Ladybug and Chat Noir, they didn't have magic to protect their identities. Unless there was an emergency, they would lay low.

Then there was an akuma attack.

They were walking to the hotel when Dark Cupid attacked them. He only shot Bruce. Ladybug took him out of his way when he froze in place, shocked by his father's sudden hatred.

"Are you alright?" The heroine asked him when she saw that he didn't move. He was still thinking. "Don't listen what he said. Dark Cupid's power is to transform love into hate. There was nothing real about those words, trust me." She pulled him into a hug when she saw tears rolling on his cheeks. He embraced her back, for a few seconds, the pulled away.

"Go and kick his ass."

She grinned, made a salute, then threw her yo-yo, going full speed towards the akuma.

She swung with a new vigor, recognizing her old friend. She was happy to see him again, even if only for a little bit.

Even though he knows that Bruce didn't mean what he said, it still stung a bit. He didn't remember what he said or did after the cure was cast and Tim didn't want to tell him. But Bruce still knew that is hurt him.

                                                          ...

When Hawkmoth was finally defeated she was 18. She decided to join Batman in Gotham. The balance had to be restored in the city that drowned in chaos and destruction. A year later, at the beginning of her first year of university, they met again.

It was in a nice coffee shop, not far away from the campus. She waited in line with Adrien, who was rambling about a blue eyed boy he met when he was in Metropolis with Chloe for an interview with Lois Lane.

The bell at the door rings and sort of by instinct she looks over. Two boys enter. Both black haired, one with blue eyes, one with green.

When they make eye contact, she knows that he recognized her too. She smiles and waves. He does too, now coming towards her. Adrien leans towards her, whispering. The other green eyed boy does the same to his brother.

"Who is he?"

"Who is she?"

They both smile, eyes locked on each other.

"A childhood friend."

Some fluff, some angst, a lil' bit of everything. I'm not good at writing outright romance but I'm a sucker for friends to lovers. And Adrien sugar is my jam. He is a smoll cinnamon roll that needs to be protected.

Do comment, constructive criticism is always welcome.

@timari-month-event

[imagineabrighterworld]

Unlaced

Kurogiri x Reader

Under the watchful eyes of the LoV, you knew it would take more than a slip of luck to escape them.

For nearly three months, you acted as the villains temp shield to hide their online presence. Every random chance photo with a member in the background or leaked information of their base was to be erased. It just so happened that you were good at disappearing online. From scrambling location codes to replacing a wild Jin with a faceless shadow, you worked day in and day out to keep the League anonymous. You weren't sure how to feel about the whole situation. One day you were programming a new security software, and suddenly you were in a rinky dink bar surrounded by people who looked like asylum escapees.

Minus Kurogiri.

In the three months you had been held captive, Kurogiri was the most reasonable of them all. Dare you say it, the most charming. Sure there was Mr. Compress, who you got along well with, what with your similar love for the theater, but Kurogiri’s patient and soothing demeanor got under your skin in just the right way.

He never rose his voice at you or showed obvious disinterest in your hobbies. He was open to conversations and always lent an ear when you spoke about your want to return to the outside. Some days he even humored you, talking of scenarios where you and Mr. Compress might watch a play together or where you could return to your old life and start up new hobbies you were gaining interest in.

You both knew Shigaraki would never let you leave, not this early into his game, but it was nice to dream.

Now it was a quiet evening, with most members of the League either on missions or away doing their own thing.

Which meant that you and Kurogiri were alone until the next morning.

This normally wouldn't phase you, you both were often left alone, with him as your watcher, but tonight was different.

You wanted to make it different.

After some debating with Mr Compress, and a bit of help from Magne, you planned a little.. Surprise for Kurogiri.

The man was notoriously good at hiding his true emotions. Often the only emotions he did reveal was annoyance or apathy. You wanted to rile him up. To see what made the shadow man tick.  

Pulling your cloak taunt around your shoulders, you make your way upstairs from your room to the bar above where you knew you would find him. With each step your heart beat faster.

Would it work? Or were you about to ruin one of your only true ties to the League that was not built on unease?

Well, it was too late to turn around now. Yellow eyes blared from the purple smoke creating Kurogiri’s body. His gaze follows you from the door to your chair.

“Good evening.” He greets you in a passive tone. Light and without sentiment.

“Evening Kuro.” You smile, a tad bit nervously as you bunch the fabric in your palms and hold it tighter. The man takes note of this and puts the glass he was polishing onto the counter before him. Always so observant..

“Is something troubling you?”

“No. I..” You bite the inside of your cheek. “I want your opinion on something.”

His eyes flicker briefly. Seems you now have his attention.

“And what is it you want my opinion on?”

You inhale quietly, thinking back to your conversations with Mr. Compress and Magne. You could do this. You wanted to take this step. Clutching onto your courage, you release your hold of the cloth covering you and let it slide off your shoulders. The only reaction you can note from the shadow man is the fleeting widening of his eyes.

“I was wondering what you think of this?” You gestsure to the black corset you were wearing, the silver buttons of the front gleamed under the light of the sconces lining the wall. The white ribbon used to tie up the back was attempting to dig into your skin, but you paid it little mind. All your focus was on the man before you.

He says nothing. For the longest of time- which was truly only four minutes- he stares at the lacey piece of clothing. No sign of whether he had heard you or not. Should you repeat the question?

“Kurogiri?” You question nervously. “What do you think?” You were always comfortable in your own skin, always proud of what you had. But wow did it sting to hear nothing from the man. The beginnings of self doubt were starting to eat away at you, and soon you were reaching out to pick up your cloak to bolt back downstairs, certain you had overstepped.

“Lovely.”

You freeze up, your gaze set on the counter, face warm. Gods you felt silly..

“What?”

“You look lovely, my dear.”

Finally you look at the shadow man, your face burning brighter than the lights on the wall. “You think I.. Look pretty..?”

A crack in his facade. The slightest bit of hesitance in his voice as he carefully strings his words together.

“Pretty is not the proper word. There is no word I know of to define you properly. You are simply.. Lovely.”

Lovely.

He thought you were lovely.

A child-like grin forms on your face, a giggle threatening to escape you as you lean forward onto the counter. “I was convinced you thought I was ugly.” A small fit of laughter bursts forth as you see his eyes narrow in response to your words.

“A hasty and foolish assumption, I assure you.”

He leans forward, and for a moment all is still as he murmurs to you.

“However, I would like to loosen this article of yours, if you would allow me the pleasure.”

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 31

First

Previous

Next

Idk what happened. I was struggling to get this chapter to reach 1k words and then I blinked and it was 2k

... sorry?

Rena was the queen of pissing people off.

(She pinned most of it on her kwami, but it might just be because she had siblings. She’d been the baby for over ten years. It was the youngest’s job to piss off the older ones, it was basically in the job description.)

But even she knew that Chat had gone too far. She didn’t even have Chloe’s power of sensing emotions, but she knew from the moment Ladybug walked inside that shit was going to go down.

There are two types of anger.

Some people’s anger runs hot. Red faces and a voice raw from screaming and tears rolling down their cheeks. Rena’s anger ran hot, so did Chloe’s and Carapace’s. When Ladybug had stormed into the house, eyes full of fire, Rena had placed her in the hot anger category with them. She was fine with that. Preferred it, even. It was easy, predictable.

But it ended up not being predictable. She’d pointed the woman on her way and waited for the banging on the door, for the screaming to start.

… it never did.

Rena hesitated for only a few moments before heading up the stairs. For once, she was glad her kwami made it so people couldn’t easily sense her presence, because she did NOT want Ladybug’s anger to transfer over to her.

The woman’s hands were limp at her sides, her head resting against the door, her eyes squeezed shut. Rena watched, not daring to breathe…

And then Ladybug’s face forced itself into a neutral expression and she headed up to her room.

Rena watched her go and found herself almost scared of one of the people she’d used to idolize.

Ladybug had cold anger. Cold anger was everything that hot anger was not (obviously, cold and hot are opposites...). It was all thin lips and quiet words and dead eyes. And it was far, far worse for anyone involved. Because hot anger was traceable, there was a distinct escalation to follow until fists and words were thrown at each other. You knew when it was coming, you knew that when it did it would be over quickly.

But cold anger… it simmered under the surface. You may be able to detect when someone was experiencing it, but you’d never know when it would boil over or how.

Rena hoped that, whatever Ladybug did to retaliate (because she WOULD retaliate, pretty much everyone does at some point and she’d already had something against Chat), that it wouldn’t be too bad.

She made sure to be extra nice to the woman as she waited for something to happen. Ladybug probably knew why she was doing it, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t accept Rena’s offer to take patrols off of her hands when she’d noticed she was swamped with work or say no to the snacks she was giving her.

It was great. Rena’s chance of being murdered was like… 10%. Which she would take. It was better than Chat’s 90%.

~

Days passed, and the tenseness in the house did not leave.

Rena, obviously, was not a fan of the high tensions. No one likes to be in a tense place, and in Paris this was even worse. She was practically waiting for an akuma at all times.

On the other hand, it was a pretty good distraction. If she was constantly worried about what Ladybug was planning, then she wasn’t worrying about what Fu said --.

Damn it. Now she was worrying about what Fu said.

Because, as much as she hated it, the words they’d exchanged about her possibly getting corrupted felt far more real.

Back when she had only known about the other four miraculous holders, she hadn’t been worried. He’d gotten it right four times in a row; even Chloe, who was decidedly NOT a nice person, was very kind. All four of her predecessors were clearly chosen very carefully to fit the characteristics of their miraculi while also possessing heroic traits. Why would he drop the ball with the last hero?

But, no, now she had to live with the fact that he wasn’t totally infallible when it came to choosing heroes. Had Pieris been a fluke? Had the other miraculous heroes been the flukes?

Pieris had had the easiest miraculous to control. She had the hardest. Would she be able to stay sane while using it?

Part of her hummed that she’d already slipped some. That her time watching Chat had been an abuse of power and she knew it. So why had she done it?

Because it was necessary, the other part of her whispered. It was for the good of Paris.

… was she even completely sure that part of her WAS her?

She curled her fingers around the miraculous that hung around her neck like a noose.

And then Ladybug walked into the room and thank FUCK a distraction. Chat tensed up from his spot at the window.

… Ladybug brushed past him, her lips pressed together thinly as she made her way to the kitchen.

Rena couldn’t stop wondering about Chat. He had a tiny frown on his face as he watched the doorway she’d disappeared through. She wondered, vaguely, why he’d done it. It was a bad idea, anyone with two brain cells to rub together would know that, so why?

But she wasn’t really close enough to ask. So, she was left to just look on the internet for some theories.

(Her personal favorite was ‘it’s flirting!!!!!!’. The LadyNoir stans were always fun. Wrong, but fun.)

~

Four days in, Ladybug struck…

How did she know? Chat screamed at five o’clock.

She groaned and shuffled out of bed, rubbing her eyes as she slowly poked her head out the door to see what had happened.

Chat was standing in the doorway to his room after a long patrol… and it looked like he’d dropped into a pool of glitter… or, as her eyes took in the amount of glitter around his feet and the polka dotted tote bag resting on top of his head like a hat that was much too large for him to pull off, a pool’s worth of glitter had been dropped on him.

There was a beat before he slowly pulled the bag off of himself and tossed it into the room. And… wow, there was even more glitter than she’d thought.

It stuck to everything about him (the sweat probably didn’t help). She no longer felt like she should be rubbing her eyes because damn did he need it more. Not that it would help all that much, his hands were just as coated in glitter and it would probably only hurt him more.

There was a click of Chloe’s door opening and the woman stared at the scene before she mumbled a ‘it’s too early for this’ and closed the door again, presumably to go back to sleep.

Carapace walked out, the bags under his eyes more pronounced than usual and the cup of coffee in his hand was the size of a water bottle. It was midterms for him. He was… not taking it well.

“Sorry, Carapace, go ahead and go back to studying. Didn’t mean for him to come home so early,” called Ladybug. She was sitting in the ladder to the attic, legs swinging idly. She tipped her head to the side as she considered him. “Go back to studying. If you need help, I’m good with math and science.”

He looked between her and Chat, who was struggling to blink his eyes open without permanently going blind.

“Do you really want to get on my bad side, too?” Mused Ladybug. “You don’t need anything distracting you from school right now…”

Carapace winced at the threat. He continued to look between the two of them before sighing and slouching a bit. “Can I at least help him get to the sink? He’s going to blind himself.”

She clicked her tongue but nodded. “Sure, I guess.”

Rena hesitated. “May I take a video?”

Ladybug fixed her eyes on her and she fought the urge to shrink back into her room or look away.

And then she shrugged. “Sure. News is kinda your thing, right?”

Rena tensed a little, her brain screeching to a halt. Did Ladybug know about her Ladyblogger days? There was no way she did, right? Sure, Ladybug had known her a little bit back in the day because Rena had often hung out around akumas for her blog, but surely it wasn’t well enough to figure out her identity, right --?

… wait, no, she was still talking about the TikTok. Ladybug looked very confused about her sudden freeze up and Rena had to think of an explanation FAST.

She pulled a bright smile to her face. “Yeah. Not allowed to do as much as I’d like, but y’know… it is what it is.”

Ladybug still looked a little confused, but she shrugged to herself and started heading up to her room.

~

The video on Rena’s account was just a video of the aftermath in short cuts.

“Ladybug got Chat back for that video he posted about her!” She explained to the camera.

Chat was covered head-to-toe with glitter outside of a small area around his eyes. He was also struggling to figure out how brooms worked, it seemed. Rena had considered helping but honestly it was kind of funny to watch him attempt to sweep something with the wrong end and how did he not know how a BROOM worked it was a BROOM --?

“Regretting it?” Said Rena, sitting down beside him.

He wore an irritable expression, though that was hard to look at all intimidating when he looked like a child’s arts and crafts project. “A little, yeah.”

“It was dumb to mess with her.”

“A little, yeah.”

She laughed a little at that.

He brought up a hand to rub his eyes tiredly, because he wasn’t as used to not sleeping as Carapace and Ladybug were, and Rena had to grab his arm to stop him so he didn’t die by glitter-in-eyes-syndrome.

… but now she was kind of regretting it. Because her hand was all glittery.

He gave her a tiny smile.

“Thanks. And, uh, sorry about the hand.” He looked down at the broom and dustpan he was apparently still unsure about how to use. “Well, at least it’s over, right?”

Rena privately disagreed. But she didn’t say that aloud, instead she just smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek… which she also regretted.

The camera caught her vague choking noises and curses for a few seconds before it cut.

Carapace was struggling to write an essay because of all the glitter on his hands.

“Fuck I should’ve let it go I should’ve let it go fuck c’mon I don’t know how I’m going to explain this to my professor fuckkkkkkk --.”

“Do it online.”

He whipped around, brandishing his pencil like a weapon, and only slightly relaxed when he realized it was her. “When did you --? Nevermind, whatever.” He sighed. “My teacher is old so he only accepts stuff on paper. It’s stupid.”

Rena reached out and gave him a little head pat.

The video cut briefly to a video of Chloe sleeping and decidedly not helping anyone with anything.

Ladybug was only there for a few moments. Rena had gone up to see her in a red crop top and black leggings. She sent her a smile and a wave despite the fact that she was currently doing her best impersonation of a pretzel. “Hey! You filming a video, too?”

Rena stared at her, wondering how she’d managed to get that flexible, and then realized she was talking to her and quickly nodded. “Yeah yeah yeah, just reporting on the incident… how’re you feeling?”

She watched Ladybug do a back roll and by the time she was finished all of her limbs were miraculously untangled, which was insane and should be impossible but I digress. “Great, honestly! I mean, it was bad that the internet got to see me on an off day and all, but…” She shrugged. “I feel much better now.”

She smiled at the camera and waved it goodbye.

The video ended.

~~~

Taglist

@nathleigh @sassakitty @th1s-1s-my-aesthet1c @blueslushgueen @woe-is-me0 @ladybug-182 @cas-and-their-refusal-to-write @trippingovermyfeet @melicmusicmagic @meimei3841 @roseliali

[sighjeongguk]

↳ request! 

↳ jeon jeongguk x reader

↳ words: 1100

↳ genre: fluff

↳ summary: you’ve decided to surprise the boys by turning up to one of their international tour dates.

↳ part 7 of my jk mini series! beginning, previous.

There’s a thrumming in your chest as you take your place; front row seat surrounded by strangers who don’t speak the same language you do, but who share a common love for the boys that will soon take over the stage looming before you. This has been months in the making, a secret between you and Manager Sejin, who’d secured your tickets before they’d even gone on sale. A surprise for the boys, though keeping it a secret the two months they’ve been gone has been increasingly hard on you, growing more difficult with your longing to see them in person.

           Someone to your left recognizes you, a wide smile on their lips as they lean over and say, “You’re Y/N, right?” in English. You nod your head and smile politely, despite the awkwardness settling on your shoulders. You’re still shaking off the weight of the last scandal, so you hope this girl sees this only as a sign of your friendship with the boys, and not the relationship you’re secretly harbouring with Jungkook.

           You take a deep breath and listen to the crowd singing along to the songs playing through the arena’s speakers, the music videos played on the screens set up on either side of the stage. You understand now why they love performing live so much, can feel the adoration through the thousands of voices echoing around you. It touches you somewhere deep inside, ignites a feeling so beautiful inside of you. This isn’t your first concert of theirs, by far, but it is your first outside of Seoul—and it is the first time you have been able to witness just how global they have become. You have seen it online and through the TV screen, but being here, feeling this, you see it more clearly.

 The boys are captivating on-stage, this you have witnessed first-hand. Your gaze follows their every move, flitting between each member so rapidly that you’re surprised you catch anything at all. You’re singing along, so loud that you think your lungs might burst, and you’re smiling.

           Jimin crosses over to your side of the stage while Jungkook sings his part. He’s smiling, too, gaze sweeping across the rows of people before him. Your breath catches in your throat, but you still sing along, still join in with the crowd and with Jungkook. And then, Jimin pauses, just briefly, eyes widening as they catch you in the crowd. His smile widens as he brings the microphone to his lips to continue with his part of the song, and he does not bring attention to you.

           At least, not until they stop singing and gather at the centre of the stage to talk to the crowd. Namjoon is saying something in English when you spot Jimin whispering to Taehyung and Jungkook, their gazes immediately flickering towards the section you’re standing in. Taehyung is vibrating as he stands there, and you know, immediately, that he wants to come over here, wants to find your face in the crowd. Your eyes flicker up to the screen, to the close-up of their faces, and you see that they’ve started to tear up. Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jimin, too.  You wonder what the crowd must be thinking, especially when Jin leans in to ask Jimin something, when he, too, looks shocked at what he hears.

           They disappear beneath the stage a little while later, and you see Jungkook turn his head into Taehyung’s shoulder just as their heads dip out of view. You smile, but you feel the tears in your eyes, too. You’ve missed him. Missed them. They know that you’ve missed them, you have told them so nearly every night since they’ve been gone, told them about the void that opens up whenever they leave you. You can’t help it, the loneliness that fills the spaces they leave empty, but you can handle it. That temporary void is worth it when you get to see them realise their dreams time and time again.

 Jungkook is the first to reach you when you arrive backstage with Manager Sejin, hurrying to cross the distance between you. He pulls you to his chest before you can even get a word of greeting in, one hand cradling the back of your head while his other curls around your shoulder. “I missed you,” he says, hoarsely, against your hair. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

           “I wanted it to be a surprise,” you murmur, voice muffled by his chest, but you don’t pull away. You feel at home in his arms, feel lighter than you have these past two months with him gone. You wonder when he became home to you. You know it has been a long time, before you started dating—back when you were trying to navigate a friendship and not ignite dating rumours. Before, Taehyung was home—just Taehyung, but after meeting the boys your home grew bigger and bigger until you felt it with all of them. Taehyung feels like home, but so does Namjoon, so does Jimin, Jin, Yoongi, Hoseok, so does Jungkook. They feel like home, and being without them is so hard sometimes, but you know—you know—that home will always return to you.

           Like now. Jungkook presses a kiss to the side of your head and reluctantly lets you go. Only because Taehyung makes a whined noise behind him, eager to hold you for himself, his sister without the matching DNA. You let yourself be passed between members, wrap your arms around them and cling to them like it has been years instead of months.

           “I can’t believe you’re here,” Hoseok laughs when he hugs you, arms wrapping around your shoulders and swaying you from side to side. “Jungkook burst into tears when we got backstage, you know?”

           “I cried, too,” you sheepishly admit, turning your head to look at your boyfriend.

           “Hoseok, you cried, too,” Yoongi points out, settling himself down on the sofa in the centre of the room. “Everyone cried.”

           “Did you cry?” You ask him, and you lean back against Jungkook’s chest when he wraps his arms around you from behind. Hoseok and the others join Yoongi, dividing themselves among the sofas, exhaustion settling in.

           “He did,” Jungkook says, resting his chin on your shoulder. “After me and Tae, he cried the most.”

           “I’m glad to know my presence had that much of an affect on you,” you laugh, resting your hands atop Jungkook’s.

           “It’s because we love you,” he says, and he turns his head to press a kiss to your cheek. “So much.”

[deathisanartmetzli]

Are You New? || Milo & Metzli

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @wickedmilo @deathisanartmetzli

SUMMARY: Milo finds himself being saved by the most unlikely person.

CONTAINS: Alcoholism, Substance Abuse, Eating Disorder, Addiction

It wasn’t nearly enough. The blood bag they had received only quenched a fraction of the hunger they felt. At least Metzli found some relief from the spinning and fatigue the hunger strike they were on induced. Because of their state, they took to being more of a recluse and staying indoors as much as possible, not even taking to flirt with anyone online or in person. The activity took too much energy, and anything that was incited due to the flirting would not be satisfying, to anyone.

Amity Road had to have a place they could consume blood, but it still somehow felt off. They would consume blood-mixed alcohol freely before. That was then, this is now. Being different from the vampire they were was the goal. They couldn’t help but wonder if their new goal meant they couldn’t partake in the drinks they once enjoyed. Asking the bartenders how the business retrieved their blood supply seemed like too much as well, so they resolved to simply ignore the hunger until obtaining a blood supply was ethically sourced.

The parade of thoughts were quickly interrupted though, as a familiar hunter’s scent engulfed Metzli’s sense of smell. Ugh, it was Nicholas. A hunter that hated their guts. He wouldn’t attack out in the open though, there were too many witnesses and even beings that would step in and rip him apart. It appeared he was looking for someone, no, at someone. Looking down his line of sight, they caught sight and smell of the vampire up ahead. Moral obligation set by their clan kicked in, and they fast-walked steadfastly to Milo. “Hey kid, I think you’re being tailed by a hunter. Follow me and you’ll be fine,” They whispered and put an arm around Milo’s shoulders.

Louder now, they put on a show. “Hey! Long time no see. Where the hell you been?!” Metzli pulled him towards a road that led to an area full of trees.

Milo wasn’t sure how his body was still aching. Of all places, he definitely shouldn’t be back in a bar. Even he knew that, and he was notorious for trying to solve his problems with pills. He didn’t want to admit it, he petulantly refused to admit it, but Macleod was right. The crash had been inevitable, and with nowhere soft to land, he had emerged from it battered. Bruised, and broken. Alcohol wasn’t helping, and neither were his precious substances, but he didn’t know what else to try. How was he supposed to silence the voices in his head? How else could he ever be expected to move beyond the panic of being cornered by mimes, to forget the injury that had left him vulnerable, and weak, to bury the feeling of Alexander’s mouth, hot and teasing, against his neck. His chest tightening at the memory, he reached up to press a hand against the scars at the base of his throat. He hated how complicated things had become, he hated how damaged, and worthless his trauma was leading him to feel. Apparently he couldn’t even manage a one night stand without descending into fear, and anxiety. He only wanted things to be normal, but this was his normal now, so he swallowed his frustration, reaching forward to claim the shot the bartender had generously poured for him. At least he was still able to charm stronger drinks out of people, encourage them to fill his glass to the brim rather than the ridge.

Taking it back, he closed his eyes at the familiar burn of the clear liquid. It was the closest he ever felt to home anymore. He wanted to be left alone, to continue his attempts at fighting off the toxic mixture of a hangover and a comedown, now seven days in the making. But as always White Crest existed only to make him suffer. Flinching at the sound of a voice he didn’t recognise, his eyes snapped open, and quickly landed on a stranger. Their appearance wasn’t the first thing he noticed though, because their presence came with the distinct lack of a heartbeat, and a very, very familiar scent. Repressing any discomfort he still felt in the company of other vampires, he stared at them, taking a moment to register their words. Tailed by a Hunter. Maybe he should care, maybe he should be worried, or nervous, or look around to try and see who might be marking him for a second death, but all he could do was sigh. The air leaving his lungs, he didn’t put up a fight as an arm pulled him close, guiding him away from the bar and into the cool, crisp night air of his hometown. “Don’t lie to me,” he muttered, already craving another drink. “Fine is a matter of perspective, you can’t promise me fine.” Wincing as the stranger raised their voice, making a show of their non-existent friendship, he struggled to ignore the pounding in his head. “Where are you taking me?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know?” Metzli answered, surprised that Milo didn’t resist at all. They wondered if this had happened before. No time to wonder now though. “You’re depressing as hell, and you reek.” They looked behind them and saw that the hunter was following closely behind. Fuck. Okay, maybe they could just disarm and flee. “There’s a building a quarter mile that way,” a finger pointed, “Take a good whiff of the air. There’s ammo, cedar wood, and really bad cologne. A hunter. I’m gonna say hello, and you run, got it?”

Shuffled steps moved quickly, rising in volume as the hunter approached with a stake in hand. “Nick! How’s it going?!” Metzli pushed Milo forward and turned, opening their arms in a gesture for a hug. A stake swung right towards their chest, which they caught swiftly and flipped him over using his own weight. “Now that’s really rude. I was just saying hi!” They smiled, taunting the man who then tripped them and loomed above with the point right at their chest. “Hey!”

Metzli’s strength was waning and they felt so sluggish, but they knew they had to persevere. “You—” Several punches to the face with brass knuckles disoriented the vampire, and the need to get away rose. “Fuck you! I’m done playing nice!” Metzli twisted both hands, and with audible snaps, Nicholas fell over. They rose and ran quickly towards the abandoned building, their vision a little blurry. Making it only a tenth of a mile, they stumbled and fell. Fuck.

Milo felt a surge of annoyance, his fists clenching at his side, but he didn’t respond, choosing to hold his tongue in the hope of avoiding an argument. It was only as they began nearing the treeline that his nerves finally managed to grow in strength. This was incredibly moronic, allowing a vampire to escort him away from the safety of the public. But he wasn’t exactly in a position to fight back, and for all he knew they were telling him the truth. “Maybe I’m depressing because I’m depressed.” He bit out, stumbling a little as the arm around him suddenly disappeared. He turned to his company, staring at them as they started listing observations. They were right, he could smell all of the above, but he really hadn’t considered what that might mean. “Do all hunters wear bad cologne?” He asked, aware of the fact that he should probably be taking the situation a little more seriously. “Is that a thing?” He faltered, realising the vampire was too focused to listen to his nonsense. “Wait- what?” Suddenly more alert, understanding what their plan was, and what they were asking him to do, he very nearly groaned in response. But it wouldn’t be fair to throw a tantrum when they were quite possibly putting their un-life at risk for him. Who would do that for a stranger? Nothing made any sense, and he longed to be back inside the bar. Back where he felt comfortable, back where he knew how things were supposed to work. A quiet yelp escaping him, he tried not to fall forward as he was pushed, the unexpected contact catching him off guard. He turned back to protest and was shocked to find the hunter already upon them both. Jeez, he really needed to be more careful. No matter how many times he told himself that, putting the skills Harsh had taught him into practise was proving far more difficult than it should be.

He dazedly observed the scene, taking a few steps backwards to put some distance between himself and the brewing conflict. He wasn’t sure who to be more afraid of, but as he watched the vampire flip the hunter onto his back, teasing the man with the air of somebody who had done this far too many times, he decided he didn’t want to stick around and make a decision. For whatever reason, the vampire was helping him, they weren’t a threat to him… yet. He found himself resisting the urge to get involved. He wasn’t a fighter. He was hungover, and weak. Besides, he told himself, they seem to have it covered. Swallowing his pride, and his petulant desire to walk back into the bar, he did what he had been told to do, and made his way towards the supposed safe house. His gait was awkward, and tired, but he ran as fast as his body would allow, occasionally stopping to rest against a tree, his head spinning with the exertion. During one of his breaks, unsure of how far he had travelled, he heard footsteps following his path, accompanied by the familiar smell of the vampire who had helped him. “Hello?” He stage whispered, listening to his voice as it carried through the darkness. Before anybody could answer there was a rustle, followed by a thud, and he felt sure whoever was close by had fallen to the ground. Were they injured? Taking a deep, careful breath, he caught the subtle smell of old blood, congealed, and decidedly unappealing. Knowing he needed to find the vampire he scanned the foliage nearby, pushing away from his resting place with a vague sense of genuine concern. “Uh… you didn’t like… murder that guy, right?” He asked, as he tiptoed to where he felt they might be situated. “Are- are you okay?”

Metzli spit out blood, annoyed with themselves for being so weak. Their face was royally fucked, they could feel it. “No, I didn’t murder him. But he’s gonna be outta commission for a bit. Unless he gets some buddies. Which isn’t far off. I can hear him on the phone.” They sat up slowly, still dizzy and wobbly even as they got to their feet. God it hurt to stand, but they had to keep moving. Getting to the building was important. “He’s definitely calling his buddies,” Metzli spit again to the side and ran a hand through their hair. “Let’s get to the building. We can figure out what to do from there, depresso.”

It took a bit of stumbling, but the two arrived to the building, and walked in carefully. “Here,” Metzli pulled a flask from the inside of their suit jacket and handed it to Milo. “It has whiskey in it. I’m Metzli, by the w—” Their speech was slurred as black overtook Metzli’s sight. With the help of the wall, they managed to keep themselves upright and navigated further inside. “So much for that blood bag. Can’t be a proper vampire off of it. Puta madre.” Punching the wall proved to be both cathartic and extremely painful, but they didn’t regret it. Though the twitching smile on their face would say otherwise.

Continuing on, there was an empty room the two could hold out in for a while. “Are you new? ‘Cause you didn’t even smell that hunter at all.” Metzli asked, intrigued by the idea of a rookie. It had been a century since they’d been in his shoes. They sat, leaning against the wall exhaustedly.

Moving towards the sound of the vampire’s voice, it didn’t take Milo very long to find them. They were lying on the ground as predicted, and he felt a jolt of panic course through him as he realised they were undeniably hurt. He couldn’t exactly hold off a hunter, and even if he was grateful to hear the man was still alive, valuing his human life wasn’t going to stop him from trying to take his vampire one. Listening quietly, he couldn’t make out what was being said, but the quiet voices from beyond the trees were obvious. “Shit.” He muttered, his panic only managing to grow as the vampire who had saved him confirmed the hunter was definitely calling for backup. “I-” He broke off, debating whether to help them up as they struggled to get to their feet. But they eventually made it, their new height drawing attention to just how much damage had been done to their face. Milo’s hand absentmindedly moved to his side, to where Diedre had been forced to patch him up. The injury still ached as it continued to heal, but the process had been surprisingly fast. Hopefully some of the bruises on their face would begin to clear up as they made their way to their destination. “You still haven’t told me what building.” He pointed out. “The last time I let a stranger take me to some random building I ended up dying so…”

Watching them as they began to walk away from him, dragging their feet, slow in their progress, he let out a huff of breath before following them. They had saved him, after all. And he really didn’t like his chances against multiple hunters, even if one of them was temporarily out of action. Their pace was steady, and it didn’t take them very long to stumble upon what he could only assume was the building they were aiming for. It looked questionable, but he was very aware the entire situation was questionable. So he ducked under their arm as they opened the door, jumping as it eventually shut behind them both. For a brief second there was an uncomfortable silence, and then he was being offered a flask. Eyeing it carefully, he hesitated for a few seconds too long before finally taking it, sniffing at the contents to be sure it really was whiskey. “Milo.” He answered, only looking back up at Metzli as their speech noticeably began to slur. A frown creasing his brow, the flask was momentarily forgotten. He reached out to help them but they had already managed to steady themself. “What?” He asked, curious to hear more about a blood bag. Had they been poisoned? Could vampires potentially have a bad reaction to blood? Taking a step back, eyes widening, it was only as rubble and dust hit the floor that he realised Metzli had punched the wall behind them. “What- what was wrong with the blood bag? I don’t understand...” He asked, trying and failing to hide his distress.

Swallowing, feeling sheepish in the face of such an unexpected question, he lowered his gaze, staring down at his feet. “Seven months.” He admitted, as they both made their way into the next room, equally as dilapidated as the first. “Give or take…” He shrugged, hoping to expel some of his self consciousness. “Maybe I was distracted.” He added, attempting to ignore the sudden urge to defend himself. “Or are you going to be another person in my life telling me I’m not good enough? That I’m- I don’t know, throwing away my potential or some bullshit?”

“Nothing was wrong with it. It just wasn’t enough.” Metzli groaned from the pangs of hunger they felt. The pangs were getting stronger, but they had to ignore them. This became relatively easy thanks to the interesting kid in front of them. Depressed and has a complex. Should be fun. “Potential? Hell, you just became a vampire. Can’t be too little or too much this far in. I’m over a century old. If you were like this at my age, then maybe people would have the right to say you’re throwing away your potential.” Talking this much wasn’t typical, but it was better than acknowledging the pestering feeling in their stomach.

“You weren’t just distracted, kid. It’ll take a few years to learn. Ignore the idiots. After all, they’re just idiots.” Metzli waved their hand dismissively, rolling their eyes at the very idea that people couldn’t leave well enough alone. They didn’t understand why anyone stuck their nose somewhere if they weren’t gonna contribute anything of substance. And no one was helping Milo by treating him this way. “Listen, depresso, I mean, Milo, tell those guys to fuck off and keep doing what you’re doing. You literally have an eternity to live. Do whatever the fuck you want. Give up your soul like me. Or don’t. Just do whatever you want.”

The pain was building in Metzli’s body as they spoke. Each word getting more strained than the last. Without the proper amount of blood consumed, the healing process would not only be painful, but slower as well.

“Oh…” It made sense, though Milo had never starved himself to the point of being weakened. Thirsty, yes. Really, really thirsty, but always somewhat in control. It seemed Metzli was beyond that, and he had no idea how to help them. “Why aren’t you eating?” He asked, the question escaping him before he could stop it. He knew through Luis, Harsh, and so many other people he had spoken to that there were places in White Crest to easily source blood. He was lucky his roommate had access to the hospital’s blood supply, but even if Harsh decided to cut him off he knew he would be able to find more. Why couldn’t Metzli? What was stopping them? Faltering at his company's surprising response to his attitude, he found himself genuinely speechless. Watching them for any sign they might be lying, or telling him what he wanted to hear, he released with a start that they were being serious. They weren’t judging him, they had simply been asking a question. There were no impending lectures, no disappointed glares, or offhand remarks about his habits. They had accepted who he was without any form of resistance. “You- you aren’t going to tell me I should have noticed?” He knew he shouldn’t tempt fate, give them a reason to take back their words, but he was desperate to hear their answer. “Or that I should have been able to- to fight back?”

A tired smile tugging at his lips, he decided he liked Metzli. He didn’t know anything about them, not really. But he liked them. “Wait-” Breaking off, allowing himself to process what he had just been told, he realised they were the first vampire he had ever spoken to who had not only given up their soul, but was willing to talk about doing so. “You don’t have a soul?” He made no effort to hide his curiosity, knowing it would be pointless. Scanning the room as he spoke so that he could avoid actively staring at his new friend, he soon gave up on searching for fabric, taking a drink of whisky before shrugging out of the plaid shirt he had on, revealing an old Hulk tee Rio had once gifted him. “Then why did you help me? If you don’t have a soul… doesn’t that mean you don’t care about, you know… saving other people from hunters?” Tearing off one of his shirt’s sleeves, he folded it neatly into a square, pouring a little whisky onto it before setting down the flask. Approaching Metzli, he held the cloth up, almost as a peace offering. He doubted vampires needed to sterilise their wounds, but he didn’t have any water, and it would be good to get some of the blood off of their face. He wasn’t sure it would aid any healing if they hadn’t eaten in a while, but it would be worth trying at the very least. “So, uh…” He gestured with the cloth, silently asking for permission to approach them with it. “Do you have places like this all over town? Like… ‘hide from hunter’ designated buildings?”

It felt shameful to speak of it. To speak of Bex, and what she had done to them. To admit why they were preventing themselves from feeding. They felt disconnected from every emotion that stemmed from empathy, but the logic of it all built a wall between them and feeding from people or feeding from sources they weren’t sure of. “Pretty much testing myself thanks to someone I met. Her parents were pieces of shit even with souls, and she kinda just got in my head. Fucking Bex.” Metzli muttered her name to themselves and took the offering. It didn’t sting to wipe their face, in fact, it felt refreshing to have the blood cleaned off for the most part. “I’m pretty new here so finding sources of blood where I know exactly where it’s from has proven difficult. It’s stupid.”

Metzli felt embarrassed to tell a stranger this, but they figured why not. The two vampires would be stuck until it was safe enough to head out in their state. Taking on multiple hunters would not be ideal. “What? No. You just started a new fucking life. You’re basically a toddler with super powers. You’re dumb, yeah, but that ain’t your fault. No one has taught ya shit.” Dust bellowed about as their head leaned against the broken wall. Exhaustion was setting in now, and it was only a matter of time before they possibly fell into a trance.

“No soul. Just a firm set of habits ingrained from my clan. If there’s a kind that you attempt to even help, it’s your own. If I wasn’t able to save you and you died though, I wouldn’t have cared. Not my fault. I would have at least tried,” They chuckled, and rubbed their head. A headache was coming in. “I don’t have hideouts. I just notice places and keep track in my head. In case of shit like this. You should probably do the same.”

“Bex?” Milo echoed, shocked to hear his friend’s name in such a strange context. “You’re not drinking blood because of Bex?” He tried to imagine what Bex might have said to make Metzli think starving themself was a good idea. She had never told him to stop drinking blood, although he could still remember her hesitance upon learning he drank human blood. It didn’t matter whether it came from bloodbags, it obviously made her uncomfortable. “Did she say something to you?” He needed to know, needed to understand what had taken place between the vampire standing in front of him, and one of his closest friends. “Should you be testing yourself? Is that even safe?” He thought back to Harsh explaining what happened when a vampire didn’t drink blood. It definitely didn’t sound enjoyable. “Have you been to the market?” He couldn’t remember the name of it, but he could still see the market stalls in his mind, rows and rows of vials filled with different types of blood. “Someone took me there once…” But he hadn’t asked where the blood had come from, in fact he had intentionally avoided asking in case the answer was one that he didn’t want to hear. Watching with a grim sense of satisfaction as all of the blood was cleaned from Metzli’s face, it only made the bruises more obvious, and he had to stop himself from wincing as he looked back up at them.

“I’m twenty-two, I’m not a toddler.” He insisted, resisting the urge to frown. “And I do have help, I do have somebody teaching me. I’m just… reckless, I guess. It was pissing people off back when I was human so it makes sense that it’s still pissing people off. I just… I don’t know.” He brushed away his thoughts, unwilling to dwell on his insecurities. He wasn’t about to force an injured vampire to play therapist, no matter how tired he was, no matter how bad he felt both physically, and mentally. “You had a clan?” Moving to drag an old bedside table towards where Metzli was standing, he gestured for them to sit on it, hoping that might make a difference somehow. “I’ll pretend you would have fallen to your knees and screamed ‘no’ at the sky like a superhero, that’s way more preferable.” He half teased, attempting to lighten the mood. Glancing towards the window, he couldn’t see anything beyond it. Only darkness, and a handful of trees. Were they really any safer indoors? He wasn’t feeling very confident. “How do you know they aren’t going to find us here?”

Metzli’s brow raised at the recognition in Milo’s voice upon hearing Bex’s name. “I guess you know her, huh? No, she didn’t tell me to stop. She just…got in my head. Some bullshit about being good is a choice. So here I am, making a choice to see if I can be good with or without a soul. I don’t feel shit but I guess I’m being good.” Their voice grew quieter, feeling the pain rise and making it harder to speak. The subject wasn’t particularly one they wanted to talk about so they used whatever energy they had left to compel Milo to stop. “No more questions on that, got it?” The vampire sighed in frustration before taking a seat. “I don’t care if it’s safe. I just need to test the theory and be done with it.” Adjusting themselves, they laid down and rested their eyes.

“I said you’re like a toddler. With superpowers. You were born again, kid. It’s safe to say that you’re a toddler vampire. Not a bad thing. Just a fact.” Metzli’s eyes remained closed as they explained, enjoying the darkness behind their eyelids. “Had a clan, yeah.” A groan escaped their lips and they rubbed their damaged face. “Not the best thing to get into. Steer clear.” It was genuine advice based off of the awful experience they had many years ago. Those were days that weren’t talked about, only thought of in the dead of night because sleep escaped them, evaded them for the rest of eternity.

“If I’m being honest, I don’t know if they’ll find us or not. I just know I couldn’t run far. If ya wanna leave, go ahead. I’ll be fine.”

“I do.” Milo admitted, thinking back to the first time he ever met Bex. She had been arguing with a bartender refusing to serve her, and he had stepped in to swipe her a bottle of vodka. It was strange how such a seemingly inconsequential interaction could lead to a genuine, and meaningful friendship. “She’s not wrong, you know… about good being a choice.” He liked to think so, at least. Despite sometimes wandering into a few grey areas, he never intended to hurt anyone. “It’s good now, but it won’t be good if you lose it and end up tearing out someone’s throat.” He added, repressing the memory of doing just that in an alleyway after first coming to. He had been so confused, so lost and alone. Maybe this was his chance to make up for the pain he caused. if he could only stop it from happening to somebody else… But then Metzli was bringing the conversation to an end, their voice curt, and serious. They left no room for him to argue, so he fell silent, listening as they took a seat, and wondering vaguely whether his blood would offer any substance. He could only assume the answer was no, but he had never discussed the subject with Harsh. “I’m guessing my blood is useless?” He asked. “Last question, then I’ll leave it alone.”

Shooting his company a petulant glance, he turned his gaze back to the window. Walking over to it he tried to see through the glass but it was covered with dust, and moss, watermarks staining the sodden wood surrounding it. He could barely see out, which surely meant anybody passing by could barely see in. He definitely couldn’t hear any hunters beyond the walls of his new little sanctuary. What if they had decided to take their injured friend home? It would only be a case of waiting them out. “Clans are… bad?” He asked, sighing deeply before finding a table to sit on. He dragged it over to where Metzli was resting, pulling himself up onto it so that he could lazily swing his legs. “I’m not about to leave you here, you’re in this state because you were looking out for me. What kind of an asshole would I be if I bailed on you now?”

Eyes opened lazily to look at Milo. He had a lot of annoying questions. But that was a given, considering he was fairly new. Still, Metzli huffed in anticipation of answering his question, and in reaction to agreeing with Bex. “Your blood is utterly useless, so don’t bother. Listen,” They paused for a moment, trying to prop themselves up and wincing as they did. “I’ve been alive for a while, you don’t have to question whether or not I’ll survive. And even if I don’t, it’s whatever. I’ve lived my span of life. I don’t care either way. That’s why the theory is so easy to try and test. I don’t care about anyone’s life, not even mine.”

Silence sat between the two as Metzli’s words settled. Distaste for life, existence itself resonated, revealing how cynical they could be. Being alive had its moments, really good moments, but they were greatly outweighed by all the traumatic and mundane ones. Moments that the vampire carried so quietly. “Think of it like a cult. Masters can be major assholes. Fucking pricks.” Acid filled every word and they had to squeeze their eyes shut despite the pain of the black eye forming to repress the anger.

Lucky for them, Milo gave them an opportunity to lighten the mood. “Hey, you’d be an asshole I’d be proud of if you left. Baller move. Looking out for yourself is key.”

Milo’s legs stopped swinging in response to Metzli’s tone, and he glared at them from where he was sitting. “I’m only trying to help, jeez…” He muttered, lowering his gaze to stare down at his hands. It was strange hearing somebody be so open about not having empathy for others. They really didn’t care whether they hurt someone, or even ended up getting hurt themself. It was a difficult thing to understand, and it was only making him feel certain he never wanted to be that person, the person who gave up such an intrinsic part of himself. He didn’t know what Metzli had suffered through in order to make them let go of their soul, and it felt far too personal to ask, even by his standards. But knowing they had made him sad. He wondered who they would be if they still had their soul, whether they would seem like an entirely different person. Sometimes not caring, not feeling would be freeing, and potentially even enjoyable. But Harsh had promised him he could still be Milo, that becoming a vampire didn’t mean having to change who he was. Giving up his soul would be erasing everything that made him. Everything Milo Summers. The idea was unnerving, he didn’t enjoy it. Listening quietly as his company began to elaborate on what made clans so terrible, he sat in silence for a while, just allowing the time to pass. He no longer felt nervous, or on edge. His fear was steadily being replaced by a feeling of protectiveness, a need to make sure Metzli was okay.

He knew it was stupid, a twenty-two year old kid feeling somewhat responsible for someone who had been around for over a century, but seeing the older vampire so weak, tired, and at the mercy of their injuries, he couldn’t help himself. “Don’t join a clan.” He said finally, nodding as he mulled over the words. “Noted.” Only glancing back up when Metzli insisted they would be proud of him if he had abandoned them, his expression darkened at the thought. How could he ever? When they had clocked the danger, and intentionally removed him from its path. It didn’t matter whether they cared about him on an emotional level, he owed them. And with his soul still firmly where it was meant to be, his gratitude was quickly becoming an unexpected sense of affection. “It’s okay, I’m kind of used to disappointing people.” He admitted, a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re stuck with me. At least until we know it’s safe to get out of here.”

“If you insist, depresso,” Metzli mocked half-heartedly. Milo spoke so badly of himself that it was actually humorous, brinking on annoyance. All this talk of being a disappointment yet he was doing a noble thing. The very fact that Milo was willing to stay was baffling to them. They themselves had abandoned several people and even tricked others. Vampires were predators, they attacked, they ate. Plain and simple. There was no need to meddle with the emotions of it all. “On the clan thing,” They added, “That’s actually where I gave up my soul. My master convinced me. But I won’t get into that. If I see ya again, maybe I’ll tell you over a drink.”

Thoughts of whether or not Metzli would be similar to Milo if they had a soul jumped around their mind. He was kind, maybe a little too kind. Life had beaten him up a little, sure, but it hadn’t completely destroyed him yet. Or maybe it never would. Regardless, it mattered not to Metzli.

Opening their eyes, Metzli slowly sat up and began to stand. “Or if you ask really nicely, I’ll tell you now.” The older vampire smiled, now looking at Milo. An arm wrapped around their stomach. It hurt to be this hungry and made it even harder to concentrate as they listened. “We should be good to go, though. So you’re gonna have to wait for that drink. I don’t hear anyone even remotely close.” They sighed in relief. Both of them got seriously lucky.

“I guess you weren’t the worst person to be stuck with.” Metzli teased, now knowing he could take it.

Milo rolled his eyes, it was the first opportunity he had been given to really hear his new nickname and though he couldn’t argue against its relevance, it wasn’t exactly flattering. “I do insist.” He said, his voice firm so that Metzli would know he was telling the truth, he really was trying to help them. He wanted to. Shifting on his perch, he chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip as they began to tell him more about why they had given up their soul. Feeling a pang of guilt for his previous assumptions, he realised they hadn’t given up a part of who they were, they had essentially been manipulated into letting somebody take it. This had nothing to do with their personal wants and desires. He wondered whether they ever missed the way things were, whether they ever regretted their decision, or even had the capability to wish they had done things differently. “Only if you’re buying.” He said, catching their gaze, his eyes shining with humour. Watching them as they began to stand, he hesitantly pushed away from his table, landing lightly on the floor so that he would be able to assist them.

Pausing briefly to listen at the mention of their being no sign of company, he was relieved to find he couldn’t hear anybody either. Maybe if they travelled away from the forest trails they would be able to make it back into town without crossing any hunters who were out to get them. “You know…” He said quietly, noticing the way Metzli was clutching at their stomach, “my roommate works nights, so he won’t be home… I could raid the fridge and share a couple of blood bags with you? They’re about as ethically sourced as you can get, I mean… people donated the blood, and it’s technically going to good use.” Taking a step towards them, he smiled. His first, genuine, unfiltered smile. When he had been human, every act of kindness had gone unnoticed, he had undeniably taken them for granted. Now that he was a vampire, as his problems seemed to triple in weight, and intensity, so did his gratitude. His acknowledgement of the fact that nobody was obligated to help him. People chose to. It meant more than he would ever be able to say. “Yeah, I guess you weren’t the worst person either.” He joked, mimicking their tone. “Even if you did drag me away from a bar just to waste thirty minutes in some dusty old building.”

The gentle air that danced around Milo was a little nauseating. Or was that what the hunger was doing? Metzli couldn’t tell. It couldn’t be denied though, Milo was being genuine and even a little protective. All this shown in the way he readied himself to catch them if they needed. As time ticked on, he continued to baffle them. From his kindness to his humor, he was someone they could tolerate to have around. Hell, Metzli needed more vampire friends. “You got a deal, kid.” They answered, fully committing to seeing Milo again. “So long as you don’t get me into this mess again. Otherwise, you’re on you’re own.” A raspy chuckle slipped through their lips, pain and exhaustion motivating their every sound.

Metzli thought about Milo’s offer, albeit briefly, before quickly saying no. “Nah. I’m gonna be fine. No sense in going into another vamp’s territory, and I don’t take handouts anyway.” Pride was something of a fault of theirs. They could dish it out no problem, but the second someone tried to help them, it was a no-go. It felt off, it felt wrong. “You’re lucky I dragged you in here. That dude almost staked me. It was the best thirty minutes of your life and you know it,” They barked back playfully.

Taking a few steps, they managed to finally get their stride steady enough to feel like they could get home. “I’m heading home. Got a cat waiting for me,” Metzli said tiredly. “Try not to get into too much trouble, all right? Keep the flask. I got more anyway.” Using the wall momentarily, they navigated themselves toward an exit.

Milo pointedly raised his eyebrows, crossing his arms over his chest when he was confident Metzli wouldn’t need his help to stay standing. “Excuse you, I was just innocently enjoying a drink, okay? If anything you dragged me into this.” Pleased to hear a laugh escape them, he still wasn’t entirely sure they were well enough to make it home, but he was in no place to demand to escort them. He hated to admit it, but that really would be like a toddler trying to babysit an adult. Unable to understand why anybody would ever turn down an offer of something they were craving, especially something that was being offered free of charge, it hit him that if maybe he was able to do what Metzli was doing right now, he wouldn’t have been killed. After all, the only reason he had been chosen by the asshole who decided to turn him was the fact that he had a rather reckless habit of saying yes to anything, and anyone. It was for that reason he decided not to argue with them, not to try and force the bloodbags on them and pull them back to his apartment. They deserved to keep their agency, he refused to disrespect that.

“Hm, territory.” He laughed, unable to help himself. It sounded so ridiculous, he was still struggling to get used to the animalistic terms that seemed to be so popular among the vampire and werewolf communities. His apartment definitely didn’t feel like his territory, he wondered vaguely whether Harsh ever viewed it in such a possessive way. “No shit he almost staked you, but I distinctly remember you deciding to take him on. You didn’t need to be such a drama queen, you know.” His smile growing, becoming an outright grin at the mention of a cat, he thought of Summer, and Quinn waiting for him back in his bedroom. No doubt they would start begging him for food the moment he wandered through the door. “And I have two mice waiting for me.” He admitted, swiping the flask from where he had set it down, more than happy to accept the drink. Hurrying to fall into step beside Metzli as they began to make their way towards the exit, he pointedly linked his arm through theirs, surprised to find the physical contact didn’t feel awkward, or uncomfortable. “I’m making sure you get out of this forest, and then you’re free to do whatever…” He insisted, making it clear they weren’t allowed to say no to him. As soon as they reached the town he would begrudgingly be forced to let Metzli go, but he was beginning to see the vampire as a friend, and as much as he could let his friends down sometimes, he did his best to look out for them.

The support Milo gave Metzli startled them a bit. Usually on the first meeting, they fucked up enough to get either yelled at or completely dismissed. Every little quip they made did nothing to deter the young vampire from being around them. “Fine,” they muttered, reluctantly accepting the help. Just this once, they’d accept it. Just this once. They were too tired to protest anyway.

Slowly, the two managed their way back so they could say their goodbyes. Long before they arrived, Metzli had already decided they would make an effort to see the kid again. Whether it was for fun or for another encounter like this, they didn’t know. White Crest had a way of surprising them in that regard.

[bungou-stray-dingus]

Lovely!Can I request again chuuya with his adorable gf who keeps getting some strange messages from men and clearly uncomfortable but doesn’t want to tell chuuya cause she doesn’t want to worry him💗

YOU CAN REQUEST AS MUCH AS YOU WANT DOLL! I LOVE WRITING YOUR REQUESTS! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Chuuya didn’t hide his relationship with you, not really. He wouldn’t hide his affection when he was out in public, and he even brought you into headquarters on days when he knew he wouldn’t have to leave or be gone for too long. One thing he didn’t do was post about your relationship online. It would be too dangerous if the entire world knew that the two of you were together. According to the internet, the two of you didn’t even know each other. There were no pictures of the two of you together, no statuses about the perfect dates he took you on. Your relationship status still said you were single, as much as he hated to see it, he knew it was for the best. If anyone knew you were together it posed the risk of someone targeting you just to get to him.

Your profile picture wasn’t bad, it’s not like you were revealing anything. Chuuya wouldn’t let you post those kinds of pictures anyway. He always took your pictures for you, acting as your personal photographer to make sure you looked like a model, even if the picture was just being posted on Instagram. He would have you pose near the window to let the sun shine in over you, the camera capturing your natural, unfiltered beauty.

He would watch the likes on your photos jump from 0-50, then 50-100 in a matter of minutes, and he’d just smirk at the phone. Of course they liked your photos, who wouldn’t. You were drop dead gorgeous, and you were also his. He didn’t mind the amount of likes you’d get on the pictures, even if every man in the world was dropping likes and eyeing you through their phone screens, he was the only one who got to hold you, touch you, kiss you. You were still his, and only his.

He knew your pictures got a lot of likes, and that’s why he didn’t seem to mind the way your phone would vibrate nonstop, the notifications building on your phone, taking up the entire lock screen. He wasn’t nosy, well... that nosy. He wasn’t the type to constantly peak over your shoulder to see what you were doing, so he never saw the messages you were getting. If he was to see the messages, he would have lost it. He would have grabbed your phone out of your hand and told the men to fuck off and leave you alone. He would have to control himself so he didn’t throw your phone out the window, he would have to tell himself that he shouldn’t hunt the men down and beat the shit out of each and every one of them for sending you the things they did.

But he didn’t see the messages, only you did. Whenever you saw the nasty things the men sent you, the vulgar descriptions of what they’d like to do to you, the nasty pictures that you hadn’t asked for, the proclamations of love, and by far the creepiest message when the man said he would find you and steal you and keep you for himself, when you saw the messages you would inwardly cringe and quickly delete the chat so Chuuya wouldn’t see it. He wouldn’t notice the slight change in your face, the way your nose would crinkle up when you saw the pictures. You were glad he wasn’t nosy, because seeing those messages would only make him worried about how your online presence was a risk. He knew how people were, and the message from the man threatening to take you away would make Chuuya panic. He knew that people had a way to track people down through the internet, they had people at the port mafia who did it often, and it wasn’t as hard as it seemed. He would make you disappear for a little, deleting your accounts, just to make sure that no one would find you until he felt like it was safe again.

You would have to hide the messages, make sure he never seen them. You knew that if you put a password on your phone now he’d think something was up, he’d be more mad at you than the guys who sent the messages. He’d be hurt that you didn’t show him what was going on, and he’d lose trust in you.

One night, laying in bed, you were already fast asleep. Your phone was on the nightstand, the screen constantly lit up the room and the vibrations on the table seemed too loud in the quiet room. He reached across you and grabbed the phone, he would just turn off the notifications and try to get some sleep. He wasn’t planning on looking through the messages, but once he caught a glimpse of one he couldn’t help himself.

He propped himself up on a pillow and started reading through them, his stomach turning as the words created images in his mind that he didn’t want to see. The pictures were another thing in itself, he quickly left the chat so he didn’t have to see them.

Creepy messages from men who threatened to take you away from him had him squeezing the phone so hard it could break. He would kill them, all of them.

How long had these messages been coming in? How could he have been so oblivious? Why hadn’t you told him about what these men were sending you? He would have to talk to you about it when you woke up.

He couldn’t seem to fall asleep, his mind was running rampant with thoughts of other men being with you, the way only he should. He didn’t know what to do, he wanted to read through more of the messages, but he knew it would only make him feel worse. So he sat in bed, watching you sleep. The way your hands were were folded under your head, your eyes moving behind your closed eyelids. You were smiling in your sleep and he wondered what you were dreaming about, hoping that it was him.

The sun started rising, and he couldn’t sit still much longer. He felt like a zombie from his lack of sleep, but he got out of bed and moved to the living room, bringing your phone with him.

You emerged soon after, your eyes still half shut, adjusting your eyes to the sunlight that filled the room. “Good morning baby.” You said, the words mixed in with a yawn as you stretched your arms above your head. You moved across the room and flopped down onto the couch next to him, his arm instinctively slinging across your shoulder to pull you against him. “You look tired, did you sleep last night?” You asked, analyzing his face, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, the way his eyes didn’t seem to sparkle the way they usually do in the morning.

“No, I couldn’t.” He pulled your phone out of his pocket, expecting you to get nervous or try to pull it away. Instead you snuggled closer against him and let him open it. “Your phone kept going off and I tried to turn off the notifications.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think they would keep liking my stuff in the middle of the night.” You said sheepishly.

“The notifications aren’t the problem, it’s the messages you get. You see them, right?” He asked, going to your direct messages, not wanting to open any of them though. You nodded slowly, your eyes dropping to your clasped hands in your lap. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You worry so much about me, I didn’t want to give you something else to worry about.”

“But if I knew I could have made them stop.”

“No, it’s different guys all the time. I told them to stop anyway, they don’t.”

“What do you want me to do? I’ll do whatever I have to, I want them to leave you alone. What do you think will work?” He didn’t want to take away your phone, he didn’t want to be that kind of boyfriend. He knew that getting those likes on your photos boosted your confidence, as much as he didn’t understand it, he didn’t want to take that away from you.

“Well, I mean.... I know that you don’t want to take pictures together because of the risk, but it might keep the guys away if they know I have a boyfriend.” You suggested quietly. He thought about it. It might be dangerous for you and him to be seen together, but if it lowered the chances of creepy men bombarding your DM’s with vulgarities and derogatory pictures, he would do it.

He didn’t bother getting ready, he didn’t mind that he was in nothing but his boxers and he had bed head. You didn’t care that your makeup was smudged from the night before, and your sloppy bun was even sloppier than when you threw your hair up before bed, or that you were in one of his over sized t-shirts. It was a genuine photo, it wasn’t staged, it was just the two of you having a lazy morning together.

He made the caption for the picture, which went a little something like “THIS IS THE BOYFRIEND AND IF YOU GUYS WANT YOUR ARMS AND LEGS TO NOT BE BROKE YOU’LL LEAVE MY GIRLFRIEND ALONE. SHES MINE.”

Sure, it was slightly hostile and maybe a little redundant, you let it stay. He cared about you, and he loved you, he was just doing what he thought he had to do.

You still received messages, but not nearly as many as you had before. You let Chuuya handle the responses, and he took a lot more pictures with you because as much as he hated to admit it, he thought it was cute. He even made his own Instagram account where he posted nothing but pictures of the two of you together, and he spent an entire day commenting on all of your pictures with hearts of the hashtag MINE. He showed off your pictures to everyone at work, but if they looked even slightly interested, or looked too long he would snap at them and tell them you were taken.

You were his, and dammit he was letting the entire world know.

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Float Like A Butterfly Ch.3 Unwanted Burdens

Summary:

Marinette and Adrien are trapped in cages of duty and resentment.

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

"Don't you think Adrien's been acting weird?" Marinette asked.

Alya glanced from Kitty Section readying their instruments to her best friend. She wanted to reassure Marinette that her concerns were just her imagination running away with her again. But Alya noticed it too.

"You mean with Chloe?"

Marinette's nose wrinkled at the mention of Adrien's first friend. But her worry quickly came back. She never realized how little time they spent together until they started spending more. It wasn't what she would call a positive development. They seemed to argue a lot more now.

Alya looked at Marinette and knew they were thinking the same thing. Going over what she overheard in her head.

"I'm no good at being nice, Adrien."

"You don't have to be nice. You just have to not be cruel."

That was after Chloe had acted like her usual self with Sabrina. Alya didn't know if she agreed with Adrien or not but she never told anyone. It was a private conversation. And Chloe sounded oddly... vulnerable.

"They've been acting weird," Marinette conceded. "But there's something else that's... off about him." Her eyes widened. "What if it's something I did? Or something his fans said online? Or something worse!?"

Marinette blinked as she realized she was leaning into Alya's space. Stepping back Marinette slowed her words down to a less panicky level. "Could you check with Nino, please. Just, of course, you know, casually."

As if she summoned him with talk of his best friend Nino showed up. Frowning at his phone.

Giving Marinette a worried look Alya complied. "Nino, any word from Adrien?"

Nino bit his lip. "He can't make it."

"What!?" Marinette winced as her yelp attracted unwanted attention from the rest of the ship. "Did he say why?"

"Something about messing up on the piano?" Nino glanced back at his phone, expression shifting into a glare. "It's just like Adrien's old man to be a killjoy the five seconds he spends with my bro!"

"Hey," Forcing some optimism into her voice Alya placed a reassuring hand on her boyfriend's shoulder. "I'm sure Adrien will sort it out. It's not the first time his dad has kept him from hanging out with us.

Nino wasn't convinced but he nodded anyway and let Alya kiss his cheek. He also noticed that Adrien was acting weird. But no matter how Nino asked, Adrien always evaded the question. It was wearing on his patience.

"Captain Anarka speakin' to ya! So, how's it comin' along me young pirates!"

Marinette started as Juleka's maman appeared out of nowhere. She was loud and jovial and apparently didn't like cleaning? Maybe it worked for the Couffaines but Marinette's mind needed a bit more order to function properly.

Still, it was her home, er, ship so Marinette could appreciate Anarka's unconventional hospitality. A smile formed slowly as Captain Couffaine's exuberance pulled her and her friends out of less pleasant thoughts.

 -------------------------

Adrien played the piano mechanically. Feeling his skin burn under his Father's stern gaze. When he wished for more time together Adrien didn't mean being judged in person.

Despite the focus Gabriel's mere presence demanded, Adrien's mind wandered. Juleka had extended an open invitation to the entire class for the music festival. That was the first time one of his... not-exactly-close friends had actually invited him over.

And he was stuck here.

Adrien winced as a discordant note echoed from where his finger slipped on the wrong key. Eyes glancing fearfully at his father.

"I've heard enough." Gabriel raised his hand to forestall any more noise from Adrien. "Are you sure you're practicing, Adrien?"

Standing, Gabriel showed his back to his son. Not looking at Adrien when speaking to him. Voice full of accusation and annoyance.

In other words, Gabriel acted the same as always.

"... I'm just doing the same exercises over and over again..." An idea came to him. "I think I could make better progress if I could just play with other musicians." Adrien forced his tone to be hopeful, trying to reason with his father. "After all, music is meant to be shared with other people don't you think?"

"We Agrestes are soloists." Gabriel crushed Adrien's argument dismissively, deigning a glance at his son. "Not mere group members. I suggest you rehearse your piece some more. You'll play it for me again later today."

His heartbeat spiked. "But- Father! You promised that I could attend my friends' concert!"

"Not after that performance you've just given."

But you promised! Adrien's jaw clenched to keep the words down. There was no point in arguing with someone who didn't listen.

"Which is probably due to their influence.

His hands trembled. You don't know them! You don't know anything!

"You need to refocus, Adrien."

With that Gabriel and Nathalie, who Adrien had forgotten was even there, left without a backward glance.

"You need to refocus, Adrien."

Adrien sat their as a growing pressure built in his chest. Clawing, demanding, yelling.  Jerking to his feet Adrien paced, trying to get his body and mind to quiet down.

"You need to refocus, Adrien."

Rubbing at his eyes Adrien sent a brief text to Nino. Forcing his breath to even out. He didn't feel like talking at the moment.

"You need to refocus, Adrien!"

That done Adrien snatched up his basketball and threw it at the net. His piano disappearing into the floor. Grabbing the ball as it bounced he threw it into the net again. His piano rising from its hiding place.

"YOU NEED TO REFOCUS, ADRIEN!"

Again he threw the ball.

Down it went.

Again into the net.

Up it came.

Again.

Down.

Again.

Up.

Again.

Down.

Again.

Up.

Again.

Down.

Again.

Up.

Again.

Down.

Again.

Up.

Again.

Down.

Again.

Up-

"YOU NEED TO REFOCUS, ADRIEN!"

Adrien shoved the ball forcefully away from him. Not caring what it hit. Grabbing the remote he turned on his TV and raised the volume as high as it would go.

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

Marinette stared openmouthed at the massive shockwave that came from Luka's electric guitar. By comparison she was only mildly surprised when police helicopters appeared overhead.

Sabrina's dad pulled up with a megaphone. "Mme. Anarka, are you completely out of your mind!?"

M. Raincomprix was on a first name basis with Juleka's maman? That probably wasn't good.

"It's the National Music Festival today, Officer Roger! My crew's allowed to play whatever they want!" Anarka projected over the speakers.

Definitely not good. Marinette tried to de-escalate the situation. "Uh, maybe we could turn the volume down a bit, Captain? Then there'd be no more problem, right?"

"No! Out of the question!" Anarka dismissed immediately. "I didn't name my galleon Liberty for nuthin' y'know! It's a matter of principle!"

From there things quickly spiraled. Anarka's stubborn refusal to listen to anything Roger had to say prompting him to pettily give more and more tickets. Each addition enraging her so much her voice stuck in her throat.

Anarka stalked away from the others on deck once Officer Roger and the other police left. Face red and fists clenched.

Marinette looked at her friends, all of them worried. Especially Juleka and Luka.

Luka. "Are you okay?" Marinette asked.

"Um, yeah." Luka gave a wan smile. "It isn't the first time ma's gotten mad at the cops."

That didn't reassure Marinette the way he probably meant it to. "So, this, happens often?"

"I wouldn't say often." Luka's gaze landed on Juleka, currently being comforted by Rose. Appreciation lit up his eyes. "It's harder on Juleka. I help where I can but I can't stay with her all the time. Rose has been amazing the past year. She stays with Juleka if me and ma are working."

"You have a job?" Marinette blinked in surprise.

"I have to. Maman can't pay for-" Luka stopped. Apparently realizing that he might've said too much. "Anyway I help her out... Doesn't leave much room for hanging out, though."

His gaze travelled across the deck. Taking in all of Marinette's friends. For the first time she realized no one from Luka's school was there.

"That's... You're a good brother, Luka." Marinette felt she understood the older boy a bit better. Even if the Couffaine's as a whole were even more unclear.

He shrugged in a 'anyone would do it for family' kinda way. "I-"

Dark, purple-ish fluid flowed from the helm, covering the entire Liberty.

Marinette went cold. "Oh, no!"

Sure enough, Anarka was akumatized.

Captain Hardrock wanted to destroy the music festival until only their song remained. Amid the fear and uncertainty of being in the power of an akuma without her transformation, Marinette felt pride that her friends rejected Captain Hardrock without hesitation.

Marinette's mind raced as she struggled to find a way out of the chains that bound her with Luka. No one else was coming. She was the only hero Paris had to protect it! She had to find a way out! She had to-

Tikki peered at Marinette from her purse. Smiling in relief, Marinette gave her a subtle nod. Stealthily, Tikki phased through the lock, chains falling with a clatter.

"Wow! How'd you do that?" Luka gave her a wondering look.

"Uh, I, uh- With this!" She held up the guitar pick he'd given her.

"Your amazing," he praised, helping her up. "A real magician, Marinette."

"Uh, you think so? Oh, it was nothing. Uh, amazing? Really?"

" 'Scuse me but some of us are still chained up here, y'know," Alya interrupted.

"Right!" Marinette placed herself between her friends line of sight and the locks. Obscuring Tikki from view. Soon everyone was freed.

"How're we getting off this crazy ride, dudes?" Nino asked.

Luka looked around the inside of the Liberty, which wasn't as transformed as the outside. "I have an idea."

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

"Few! That was close!" Tikki looked out from Marinette's purse at the others who made it off the Liberty in makeshift rafts.

They were on the opposite side of the Seine. Luka, Juleka, Rose and Ivan. Marinette gazed after the Liberty. Alya, Nino and Mylene still onboard. Liberty's chains catching them before they could take off.

Anxious, persistent defeat loomed in the back of Marinette's mind. Threatening to drown her. She pushed it back with difficulty. "Tikki, I have to save my friends!"

"But last time you struggled without someone to help you," Tikki pointed out. Concern for Marinette's wellbeing overriding any other considerations. "You should go to Master Fu for help."

Conflicting emotions flickered across Marinette's face. "... You're right," she agreed, resigned.

Quickly, Marinette found a hiding spot and transformed. With a backward glance at the destruction wrought by Captain Hardrock, Ladybug reluctantly swung towards the Guardian.

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

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng, pick an ally you can trust to fight alongside you in this mission. Choose wisely. Such powers are meant to serve the greater good. Once the mission is over you will retrieve the Miraculous and return it to me."

Ladybug was only half listening. Engrossed by the only Miraculous that lit up in her mind.

No. Please not his. Please.

But no matter which Miraculous she looked at her gaze was drawn back to his ring. Hand trembling, stomach turning itself inside out, (Ladybug didn't want anyone else) her fingers closed around Chat Noir's ring. Once it was in her hand she pressed it to her chest. It was the only thing she had of him.

Master Fu's eyes widened at her choice. "Are you sure, Marinette?"

Ladybug just nodded.

Staring at her for a moment, he finally spoke. "The Miraculous of the Black Cat is the most dangerous out of all in existence. Whoever you choose must put others above himself."

The words entered but did not impact her. Like a stone being thrown into waters too turbulent to make ripples. "Of course... Master Fu."

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

"Luka Couffaine, this is the Miraculous of the Black Cat. Which grants the power of Destruction. Once our mission is complete you will return it to me."

Eyes wide in disbelief, Luka carefully took the offered Miraculous. Wonder quickly morphed into confusion, however. "Wait. Black Cat? But what about-"

A ball of green energy shooting out of the ring interrupted him. When he lowered his hand at the fading light a small, cat-like being floated in front of him. Its ears drooping and eyes sad.

Luka took an involuntary step back as a requiem filled his head at the sight of it. Fingers twitching for his guitar.

"You're not-" Green bubbles erupted from its- his mouth, gaze turning toward Ladybug. "Why isn't it-" Again green bubbles came out before he could finish.

Ladybug gave the small, sad, cat-like being a pained look. "We need your help, Plagg. Paris needs your help... Please."

An unspoken understanding passed between Ladybug and Plagg. A conversation Luka was not privy to.

With a nod Plagg sized Luka up. "Well," he said with a mocking grin. "You're not much to look at. Name's Plagg."

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

With every misstep Ladybug reminded herself that Panthera was not Chat Noir.

That she couldn't expect him to function on the same level as someone who had his Miraculous for over a year. Couldn't expect someone she only just met to know her movements as well as someone who'd fought by her side since the very first akuma. Someone who'd never held a staff to wield it as expertly as someone who'd spent hours trying to figure out every possible use.

Ladybug reminded herself of this every time Panthera was caught in Liberty's chains or lost his staff to Captain Hardrock's swordplay or held back when he should push forward.

Her earrings beeped insistently, reminding her that time was almost up. Finally, Ladybug managed to trap Captain Hardrock to the helm with her Lucky Charm. Cataclysm destroying only the compass instead of the entire ship like she planned. Luckily, it turned out that's all they needed and she purified the akuma.

As the Miraculous Cure set everything right Ladybug turned to Panthera and- Luka was grinning at her. Relief adding to his joy. He held up a fist. Hesitantly, Ladybug raised her own, rewarding him with a smile.

"Bien joue."

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

I hate you!

Adrien glared at the screen, having turned down the volume once the news reported something of actual interest: the akuma attack... And Ladybug's new partner.

I hate you!

Panthera, as he called himself, had a rather uninspired suit design. The only significant difference from Chat Noir's look was his green hair.

I hate you!

Heartbeat pounding in his ears, Adrien dissected everything about this 'Panthera' as he could from the shaky broadcast. The newbie held his staff like a club, having trouble with the extending functions.

I hate you!

Captain Hardrock thrust with her sword. Pushing Panthera back. Splitting his staff in two he held them in an X, blocking an overhead blow. But immediately Captain Hardrock switched to an underhand strike, separating the two halves of the staff and sending one flying into the Seine.

I hate you!

Ladybug's yo-yo pulled Panthera out of the supervillain's sword range. But not before losing his remaining staff.

Captain Hardrock charged. Ladybug dodging both her and the flying chains. Panthera jumped away from her sword... and right into the boat's chains.

The remote creaked in Adrien's tightening grip; teeth clenched.

I hate you!

Quickly breaking Panthera's restraints, Ladybug helped him to his feet. Together they charged. Or rather, it should have been together. Panthera had to retrieve his staff which threw off their timing.

Ladybug leapt from chain to chain in midair, as graceful as a gymnast. Panthera a fraction behind her. Captain Hardrock took advantage of the minut delay by breaking past Ladybug's assault, jumping onto the mast net.

I hate you!

Sweat beaded on Adrien's forehead despite the coolness of his room.

Ladybug summoned her Lucky Charm -her own chain- and searched for how to use it while Panthera protected her from the Liberty's attacks. Finally getting into his role.

They conferred for a moment before the chains forced them to split up. Ladybug disappearing below deck while Panthera took on Captain Hardrock. He was marginally better than before, returning her strikes blow for blow. But Captain Hardrock still managed to pin him to the mast with her chains.

I hate you!

Panthera was saying something to the supervillain... Attempting to reason with her. It didn't work, of course, but it gave Ladybug the distraction she needed to rescue him. As they fought Ladybug maneuvered the supervillain towards the helm. In one swift movement she tied Captain Hardrock to her own wheel.

I hate-

Adrien jumped to his feet, eyes wide as the first vestiges of fear mixed with his already pounding heart; the ship sailed through the air for one moment before crashing to the ground. Sagging back down he saw Panthera call on Cataclysm. And Ladybug's cure put everything back to normal.

Nadja went on to heap praise on this 'new Chat Noir' and ask questions Adrien hoped no one ever found out. I hate you! Scowling he turned it off.

I hate you! Adrien's frown deepened. Ladybug... was usually better at communicating her plans. I hate you! It was a confusing thought. I hate you! As it meant Panthera wasn't the only one to blame for such abysmal teamwork. I hate you!

A sharp crack brought Adrien's attention to the remote still in his clenched fist. Uncurling his fingers Adrien stared at the break running along the bottom. I hate you! If you weren't looking for it you wouldn't even notice. I hate you!

The sound of Adrien's door opening was the only warning he got of Nathalie's entrance. (Why didn't he have a lock? Every other room in the manor had a lock, even the kitchen had a lock! So, why didn't he?) Not for the first time Adrien noted how she didn't knock before entering.

His father's assistant glanced between him and the piano but said nothing about it to Adrien. That didn't mean she'd say nothing about it to Gabriel.

"Adrien. Your father had something come up at work and won't be able to hear your recital today." Nathalie's impassive expression never changed. "...He still expects you to practice. I'll try to fit you in tomorrow."

"..."

"Adrien-"

"I get it." Adrien snapped, unclenching his jaw. "Father has more important things to deal with."

Nodding once, Nathalie left as quickly as she arrived.

Adrien's chest rose and fell as his breath came rapidly. I hate you! Mind snapping back to the akuma fight -fingernails digging into his palms- or more specifically, Ladybug's new partner.

Panthera wasn't any better than Chat Noir. I hate you! Adrien's hands were shaking. I hate you! He wasn't a better fighter. I hate you! The remote slipped from his grip as he clenched and unclenched his fingers like claws. I hate you! He couldn't follow Ladybug's signals like Chat Noir could. I hate you! Adrien's vision blurred, eyes burning. I hate you! It was hard to tell across a screen. I hate you! His throat was too tight. I hate you! But the only significant difference was how silent Panthera was compared to-

I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate-

Was that the only reason?

I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I-

Wildfire raged in Adrien's chest. Burning his throat, his stomach, his head.

I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!

Did they really choose this wannabe Chat Noir because he WOULDN'T ASK QUESTIONS!?

I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!

Building pressure pushed at Adrien's chest and jaw and throat and eyes and fists.

I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!

Choose him because he would be quiet and obedient and SYCOPHANTIC!?

I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!

Bile rose into his mouth and stung his throat.

I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!

Adrien's whole body shook. Everything blurred, nothing was clear. Except the great, persistent, growing pain that threatened to shake him apart. He could feel himself cracking, breaking, shattering-

His phone rang.

Adrien scrambled for it. Like it was a rope tossed into the deep, dark well he found himself drowning in.

I hate you!

Without bothering to glance at the caller Adrien answered.

"Sup, bro!"

Blinking rapidly, Adrien saw Nino, Alya and Marinette crowding into the screen. Behind them were their other friends making some last minute preparations for the music festival. Suddenly his raging storm was much more endurable.

Nino leaned into the camera. "Dude, is your camera off? It's all dark."

"Uh, yeah, just a sec." Realizing that he must look like a mess Adrien hit mute and hurried into his bathroom. The red eyed, tear stained face that he washed away made him grateful his friends hadn't seen him.

I hate you!

With a deep breath Adrien turned the mic and camera back on, forcing a smile. "Hey."

"There he is!" Nino grinned.

Alya turned the phone to focus on her. "So, we know you were looking forward to being here. Which is why this girl," Alya wrapped an arm around Marinette and hugged her close. "Had the brilliant idea to do this video chat!"

Smile softening into something more genuine Adrien gazed at Marinette's pink face. "You were thinking of me?"

"W-well, I just thought that it was a shame you couldn't tea- be here! So, I just, yeah..." Marinette trailed off, eyes everywhere but the screen.

His heart slowed from breakneck speed to merely sprinting. "Thank you."

Marinette squeaked and muttered what could have been a 'you're welcome' before pushing the phone back to Nino. Wiggling out of Alya's grasp as she dashed off.

His best friend grinned at them as Alya chased after Marinette offscreen. But once his eyes came back to Adrien, Nino's brow furrowed slightly. "Seriously, bro, how you holding up?"

I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!

Something must've shown on Adrien's face as Nino asked: "That bad?"

Trying to downplay it Adrien shrugged. "It's not like it's the first time he's changed his mind."

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, as Nino scowled at the specter of Gabriel Agreste. "Dude. No offence, but I wanna sock your old man."

Laughter bubbled up and spilled out of Adrien. Blocking his breath and forming a stitch in his side. Vision blurring. Hand covering his mouth as he tried to control himself. Tried to stop it from devolving into hysterical sobbing.

"Adrien!?" Nino's eyes were wide with alarm.

Biting the inside of his cheek Adrien gasped for breath. "S-sorry." He fought of the giggles that threatened to choke him. "It's just... he's a head taller than you."

Nino drew himself up indignantly and Adrien was relieved to see his misdirection work.

"That bony hermit never gets off his rear-end! My little brother could kick him into next week, dude!"

A bark of laughter escaped Adrien's control. Thankfully not igniting the false manic glee. "Thanks for that."

Despite his confusion Nino still smiled at Adrien. "What are bros for?"

Gazing gratefully at Nino, Adrien felt himself balance on a melancholy plateau. "I really will be okay. This," by which he meant their call, "helps."

Nino fidgeted, adjusting his cap. "I just... wish I could do more, y'know?" The unspoken for you was clear as day.

A pleasant warmth bloomed in Adrien's chest, softening further the ache that remained. "I know, bro. That's why I love you."

"I love you, too." Nino searched for something more to say as he searched Adrien's face for what remained unsaid, but nothing came to him. "Well... Kitty Section is starting soon. Might as well greet the band before they become famous and forget they know us."

"No, we wouldn't want that would we..." Adrien could almost ignore the pressure in his chest.

After a round of waving and sympathizing with him for not being able to make it, they began. Kitty Section was amazing. Rose's voice was never like that! Juleka smiled widely, carefree. Ivan was the most intense Adrien had ever seen. They looked... alive.

Gabriel would certainly classify it as 'classless noise' but to Adrien? Kitty Section had something that he couldn't replicate inside the four walls of his cage.

I hate you.

At least, not without Plagg.

While he stayed in frame Luka never took his eyes off Marinette. A hopeful smile evident even across the screen. As night came on and the band went from rehearsing to performing, Luka seemed to play for one person only.

Adrien had never met Luka, despite hearing about him from the bandmembers in his class. And he didn't really count saying hello over video chat like his father. The older boy was nice, polite and good at guitar. Besides dyeing their hair Adrien couldn't honestly say Luka bore any resemblance to his sister.

"-out of chaos comes creation!" He heard Anarka spout in the background, talking to someone he couldn't see. Adrien didn't know why but the phrase stuck in his head. It was like a promise.

Out of Chaos comes Creation.

Wrapping it tightly about himself, Adrien brandished it like an amulet against the voice that wouldn't stop whispering at the edges of his thoughts.

I hate you.

Apparently, that wasn't why Adrien's mind had latched onto the phrase.

Trying to drown it out with Kitty Section's illegally loud music didn't work. It was always the same volume.

I hate you.

Distracting Adrien from enjoying his friends' concert. Like a thorn in his side.

He knew what it was. It was everything he was trying to ignore. Everything he felt at seeing himself replaced so easily. At the excitement in Alya's voice when she shot out theories about Panthera. At the Guardian, at Ladybug, at himself. All summed up into three little words Adrien had never said to anyone.

I hate you.

Despite Adrien's attempts to even his breathing and calm his heartbeat, the voice continued to plague his thoughts for the rest of the night.

I hate you.

A reminder that, even in his own mind, Adrien could never be free.

[carlyraejepstein]

potentially upsetting topics: sui, gender dysphoria, abuse and parents, sex

Elliot Page’s coming out rescued an awful day. Its wording is unbelievably powerful, a comment I have made once before and will continue to do so. In it, he so strongly encompasses the fears, the sorrow, the rage, but most importantly the determination and the defiance of not only him but every trans person. I hesitate to use the word “community” because it implies a certain connection that might just not be there; I play a bit of Counter-Strike but I don’t consider myself part of the Counter-Strike community; yet when I read Elliot’s words I feel solidarity, I feel a pull to the trans community that I often don’t feel I pay my dues to, and it feels good, really good. Like I said on Twitter once, other trans people being, existing, living, is just rad. Inspiring, even, despite how that word has been worn out by cis people.

However, there’s a certain something that Elliot didn’t write, for Elliot never wrote “I am a man”; only his name, and pronouns, how he wishes to be referred to. Of course, we cannot possibly know what this omission means or does not mean to Elliot, but it’s something that concurred with a shift in how I perceive my own gender.

I remember first properly ruminating on gender in 2012 or 2013. My understanding was primitive, coming from Wikipedia. Once I knew what transgender or, given the time period, transsexual, the curiosity never really went away. I knew at this point about transition, and I knew about deed polls because of my resentment of my parents, I knew about HRT and I even knew about the GICs. I felt compelled to be an ally in that turbulent period in both my life and in the online culture I immersed myself in from around 2015 to 2017. At this time a friend was going through their own transition and seeing them gave me pause for thought; partly pride, partly worry but a small kernel of imagination, wondering if that could ever be me. It was when I went to sixth form, with its environment permitting greater yet still constrained self expression, that I felt gender dysphoria hit me with its full weight. Thinking, wondering, worrying about being transgender has been the central dialogue of my internal and external monologue ever since. Not a day passes where I don’t think about the dysphoria I feel over my continued closet-dwelling and the malignantly gendered properties of my body. On a January morning in 2019, at my very lowest point, motionless under the covers, I gave myself a choice between transition and death, and I chose transition.

It’s been a complex journey. When I was 13 I shortened my gender neutral name to make it more masc (which I have now happily embraced as my middle name). I leant into the deepening of my voice because I thought it gave me authority, conditioned through the harsh words of people from public Team Fortress 2 servers. I’ve done almost everything under the sun that gets people to say “I’d never have known!” when you come out to them; I worry that I still do and that nothing has changed. I’ve gone and cross-dressed when my parents were out, and I’ve been traumatised by Susan’s Place. I am autistic, no one who has met me can escape that fact; not that I would want to, and as a consequence I am so much more confident in my presence on the internet than I ever have been in the flesh, despite me still not knowing how to make friends; hence I’ve ended up trying to piece my transition together through 4chan (I know, bad) and Reddit and Twitter.

Perhaps the biggest reason I am not out is the time when I decided I would come out to my mother as trans. When we were in Munich we had walked past a pride parade, and when we got back to the apartment I revealed off hand that I was bi. My mother chided me for not telling them before hand since it was “polite” to do so, as if it were not my choice to make because, as I still believe to this day, it’s not a big deal and it’s none of their business. But I decided this time it was important, and that I could trust her. It turns out that just like every other time, trusting my mother is a bad idea that is guaranteed to cause me pain every time I make that mistake. She told me that because she “knows more about [me] than [I] do”, that she thought that I was just straight up wrong, couched it in rhetoric about how she thought that I was too weak to be trans, and quoted the shockingly offensive “autism is extreme male brain” theory to me. It was really devastating at the time and I think it still affects me to this day, especially as she constantly tries to worm her tendrils back into my life after I moved out.

But enough about my mother; she is a fucking flat out abuser. She has emotionally abused me, and undoubtedly my brother, all our lives. I was relieved that my dad chose not to react aggressively as she did, but with a modicum of respect and agreement not to make such a big deal out of it, something I would never expect my mother to match. In the middle of writing this piece I had to decide that I could not do it any longer, and I would never let her back into my life again.

Where that conversation in late 2018 relates to Elliot Page’s statement is my mother’s purported belief that “you don’t have to define yourself as a man or a woman”. Going past the fact that she is lying, since her tolerance for all trans people is thinner than the grey hairs on her head going on the basis that she couldn’t bring herself to say one positive thing to her own daughter that afternoon, it struck me recently that I can more eloquently describe my gender through elimination rather than a label. I am happy to call myself a woman, a trans woman, and I don’t feel as if I really am wavering in or around the binary. But what I can say for definite is that while I have been a boy for almost all my life, and am holding onto that, I am not, and never will be, a man.

Where that leaves me is that I am not a man, but must I be a woman? If I am perhaps not a woman, am I non-binary? No; it doesn’t feel right. However, if I attach just a convenience to the label woman, I can give myself that flexibility in how I feel and how I present myself, and perhaps the biggest example of that is how in recent months I have made peace with my voice. It is not really a femme voice; I hit vocal fry just speaking normally. But I know how to be expressive with it; it is my voice that I have honed over 19 years after all. One day I want to find someone who will help me upgrade my voice (and yes, upgrade) but keeping it means I fulfil one cool thing about being trans, and that is saying fuck you to the very existence of the gender binary. I keep this voice out of necessity, but I’m still trans femme, I am still a woman and I still want my facial hair zapped off.

As well, I reserve the right to say I used to be a boy. Not a man, but a boy. That’s why they call it boymoding, right? How else can I describe the first 17 years of my life? I can be a boy all the same now, although I may be pushing it aged 20, and at the point at which I am really stretching that concept which at this point I am adhering to solely for my safety and comfort, I shouldn’t need to use it anymore. Wishful thinking, of course.

I think we should consider why we use “man” and “woman” in the first place. From my perspective they are simply words to describe people with two different sets of primary and secondary sexual characteristics, convenient because, well, being cis is unavoidably common. But they are not discrete, as we so often have to reiterate using intersex people as an unwilling crutch, where one does not occur in the other they are so often analogous and often they overlap! Supposedly 60% of teenage boys develop further breast tissue, and 40% of women have some form of facial hair. Thinking that the two are discrete gives rise to the idea of “biological sex”, a concept developed by cis people either to misgender trans people in a way they think is philosophically rigorous, or to reconcile their tenuous support for trans people with a continuing belief in the gender binary. Personally I would like to smash the concept of biological sex to bits because it is not useful to us. At the very least it may describe one’s primary sexual characteristics but bottom surgery exists, and I don’t happen to think that it is “mutilation”. I don’t need to argue that “biological sex can be changed”; they are not discrete categories, and I don’t need to move between them, or seek validation for having moved between them. It is not a helpful generalisation for bodies, diverse as they are.

I must add that as a trans woman the fact that I may have a penis doesn’t mean that I use it in the same way as a man. I use mine to pee, primarily, and it’s definitely not going inside anyone except myself any time soon; a whole zine was written about how trans women fuck and use their bits to fuck, so I definitely don’t need to anyway.

Another bullshit concept is “biological destiny” or “biological reality”, although I will give less breath to this one because at it’s core it is fundamentally misogynistic, and it so often is divorced from any sensible definition of reality. It’s like if I had to have my arm amputated and then someone came up to me and said “you’ll always have two arms, you were born with them and you’ll die with them”.

I’ve heard and thought a lot about gender abolition but it seems to me that its proponents expect that like the state, gendered differences will just disappear over time. But I don’t want that to happen. If the binary is done away with I don’t want gender to disappear I want it to flourish! Because gender is beautiful, men are beautiful, women are beautiful, and everyone in between or outwith are beautiful. On the other hand, me and you don’t need to be men, or women, or call ourselves non-binary to be beautiful. Being trans is about cultivating your own beauty and your own identity. When cissiety demands that the only identity and presentation we’re allowed is one that corresponds to what they decided was between our legs when we were born, why give ourselves only one other choice?

I don’t really know how to end this piece because I wrote one half of it one day and the other half a couple of weeks later. At the very least I’m glad I can attribute my peace with not necessarily being a woman but a femme to Elliot Page, and not my rotten bastard mother.