#I barely even care about the little fish who were probably bullied or lied to for this assignment AND WE DON'T KNOW THEM

[motorizedduck]

So we're doing public hatings now, with random unvetted name lists being thrown around? We're gonna nail these young adults on a cross on nothing but a wild accusation? We're just gonna ignore Musk?

We've gone through this lesson a hundred times in these past years already. Don't spread rumors and don't jump the gun. This is one of those times.

I already feel sorry for the random innocent strangers who might have one of these names and are now gonna have a really shitty time as a result.

Accusation is not proof of guilt.

These men just stole the personal information of everyone in America AND control the Treasury. Link to article.

Akash Bobba

Edward Coristine

Luke Farritor

Gautier Cole Killian

Gavin Kliger

Ethan Shaotran

Spread their names!

[rainbow-flavoured-skittles]

Hey Mom, Dead Mom

Chapter 2: No more playing daddy’s game, I’ll go insane if things don’t change

I suffered for this chapter. it was fighting me every single step of the way but it’s finally finished. I can rest now. this isn’t as dark as the last chapter but Cole is running away in this, so it’s still not very happy. also I did indeed make a couple of random ocs because how else was I supposed to advance the plot? they’re not returning any time soon. as always, this is cross posted to ao3

~

Cole got on the plane to MOSPA at exactly eleven in the morning on a Sunday. He traveled alone — Dad was unable to come with him. Other people at the airport gave strange looks to the unaccompanied twelve-year-old, reminding him of the looks he got after Mom died. “Oh, why is that little boy all alone? So strange,” and then they’d go about their day, not giving him a second thought.

The flight attendant in front of him right now was doing just that. “No parents?” She asked, face mildly concerned. 

Cole shook his head. “I’m going to visit my grandma, but Dad couldn’t come,” he lied. Cole was good at lying. He’d done it a lot these past few years; you couldn’t take care of yourself the way Cole had without at least some lying.

The attendant gave him a small smile. Maddy, her name tag read. “Well, if you need anything, just call.”

“Okay, thanks, Ms.”

Maddy nodded and continued walking, greeting the other passengers. Cole fidgeted in his seat. The fabric covering it was itchy and the seatbelt was too tight. The man sitting next to him scrolled through his phone, music blaring loudly, and the old lady behind him was snoring. Not even off the ground yet and this flight was already torture. Cole resisted the urge to groan.

It was only a two hour flight, Cole could do this. But he hated planes so much — always had. Not being on the ground made him feel ill, and every bit of turbulence was terrifying. At least he had the window seat, though that didn’t do much to soothe his nerves. Being able to see how high up he was might make Cole feel worse. 

The crackling of a speaker interrupted his panicking. The sounds it made were loud and screechy. “Please fasten your seatbelts and put all devices on airplane mode. We will be taking off shortly,” the announcements said. 

Finally. Cole dug through his backpack and found his book. Fish in a Tree, the title read. He’d found it at the school book sale but had never gotten around to reading it. Now was his chance.

He’d barely gotten past the first chapter before they took off. Cole actually felt it when they did — it was like getting severed from a part of him. He felt sick, though throwing up wouldn’t achieve anything. It would probably make him feel worse. Cole settled for putting the book down and staring blankly at the seat in front of him instead. He wouldn’t be able to focus on the book, or anything at all, not when his stomach was lurching so badly.

Just two hours, he told himself. Then I can collapse on a bed and sleep. He repeated those words over and over like a mantra. 

~

As it turned out, Cole was not able to immediately sleep once he arrived at MOSPA, because he had to check in. Check in, as if the school was a hotel. Or maybe a prison, which would be much more accurate.

“It’s great that you’re here, Nicholas,” the secretary smiled cheerily as she typed on her computer. “I’m sure you’ll love this school. We’re all one big family.”

Yeah, right. Every time a school said that they didn’t mean anything by it. In fact, it meant there was probably all sorts of bullying that went ignored. “It’s just Cole, not Nicholas. Nobody calls me that,” Cole said. He hated his full name — who agreed to let his grandfather pick it out? ‘Nicholas’ was an old-person name from at least a hundred years ago.

“Okay, then, Cole. I’ve got your dorm number and schedule here,” the secretary printed out a sheet of paper. “Do you need a map of the school?”

Cole shook his head. He had spent some of the flight looking at the floor plans and they were seared into his brain at this point. “I’ll be fine, thank you,” he hurried out before she could offer to have someone show him around. He didn’t want that kind of forced social interaction.

The dormitories were not hard to find, not with the giant sign that pointed to where they were. Cole opened the door, cursing when it was stuck, and shoved everything to the side before closing it again. He didn’t see a roommate anywhere, but it was a weekend, so everyone was probably out. That was good, it meant he had a couple hours alone; he could use the time to unpack and explore the school.

Cole shoved all his clothes into the closet and shoes under the bed. MOSPA had a strict uniform policy, so he wouldn’t be able to wear any casual clothing, nor his combat boots. That was a shame — he really liked those boots. They had served well when he got into fights. And they added another sorely needed three inches to his height, another advantage.

Any books that he’d brought were put onto the desk. Items such as stationery and notebooks were placed in drawers. Miscellaneous trinkets were placed in a box under the bed and his toiletries in another box. Cole pushed the suitcases into the corner. There wasn’t anywhere else to put them, but he’d figure it out later. Right now he wanted to take a nap and not wake up for a month. Screw exploring the school, he could do that tomorrow.

Cole closed the curtains, pulled the covers over his head, and went to sleep. 

~

MOSPA, as Cole found out in the span of a month, was its own special brand of hell. The students there hated Cole for always messing up and acting strange, as if grieving for a loved one was something to make fun of. The teachers hated him for not talking or making eye contact and always zoning out. Everybody seemed to agree that he was the weird kid who should be avoided at all costs. His roommate, a kid named John, disliked him enough that he asked to be put in a different dorm.

“Thanks for messing up again, Brookstone,” one of his classmates sneered. Brant Green, yet another asshole who existed to make Cole miserable. “You ruined the whole performance.”

It hadn’t been Cole’s fault. Another student had purposefully tripped him, causing him to fall and knock over several people. “Yeah, I did. What’s your point?” He tried not to flip off Brant. That would just cause more trouble, trouble he couldn’t risk. The teachers hated him enough already.

“How’d you even get into this school? I thought you needed to have talent to get in,” Brant spat. 

“Do I look like I want to be here? I hate this place,” Cole stood up and glared at the taller boy. Brant was a good head taller than him, unfortunately.

Brant didn’t seem to know what to say to that. Perhaps he’d thought Cole was going here willingly, though how he’d come to that conclusion was a mystery. He gave Cole another sneer and walked away.

Cole rolled his eyes and went back to his lunch. For all its faults, at least this school had good food. The chicken salad was pretty tasty.

A large group chattered next to him. One of them gave him the side eye. “That’s the Brookstone kid,” she said, loud enough for Cole to hear. “His dad’s a Royal Blacksmith. Isn’t it weird how he didn’t get any of the family talent?”

Cole scowled and looked down at the table. He stabbed his lunch with more force than was needed.

“Nicholas Brookstone to the office, Nicholas Brookstone to the office,” a speaker sounded. All eyes turned to him. Cole looked down at the floor and wondered if he could just die right there in the cafeteria. It would save everyone a lot of trouble.

A kid coughed from the table in front of him. Awkward, Cole thought. What had he done this time? There wasn’t anything recent he’d done to warrant this.

It took five minutes for the school to realise he wasn’t moving any time soon. They all went back to their conversations, and Cole snuck out the side entrance. He had always been good at going unnoticed.

Cole walked through the halls briskly and knocked on the office door. He was let in by the guidance counsellor, a lady in her forties with platinum blonde hair. “Nicholas, we need to talk about your behaviour,” she said as they sat down.

“I haven’t been in any more fights,” Cole said. It was true.

“Your teachers say that you don’t pay any attention in class and that you’re not following instructions. It has nothing to do with your peers.”

“I’m trying my best, okay?” Cole snapped. Why couldn’t anyone just listen for once? He was trying, he’d been trying for ages.

“Then how come your grades are so low? This is one of the top arts schools in Ninjago, Nicholas. We expect better.” The counsellor had a mask of false concern on. Cole kind of wanted to punch it off. 

“It’s not Nicholas, it’s Cole. And I am trying,” Cole gritted out. 

“Your grades are barely scraping fifty percent.”

“So?”

The counsellor frowned. “If you don’t start doing better, you may get expelled.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Cole said under his breath. Then to the counsellor, “I’m sorry. I’ll do better.” She might be suspicious of the sudden change of pace, but Cole couldn’t care less. He just wanted to get out of the office.

The counsellor nodded and fixed her glasses. “That’s all for today, Nicholas. You can go to class now.”

She didn’t even bother to get his name right. “Thanks,” Cole marched out the door.

~

Cole stared down at his exam results and wondered if he was dreaming. Forty percent average, the paper said. A fail. He’d managed to do so badly that his average wasn’t even fifty.

Dad’s going to kill me, he thought. Dad expected at least nineties, and this definitely wasn’t it. He’d be grounded until his thirtieth birthday, if he lived that long.

The only subject that had above sixty was visual arts. The teacher for that class was nice — he understood Cole’s struggles and gave him all the time he needed. It wouldn’t make Dad overlook all the other failures, though.

The paper crinkled under his grip. Cole blinked the tears out of his eyes and shoved the paper into his folder. His classmates were conversing all around him, comparing grades and bragging about what they’d gotten. The teacher sat at her desk on the computer. Nobody would notice if he went to the washroom and never returned, hopefully.

Cole got up and walked to the front. “Ms. Jackson, may I please go to the washroom?”

The teacher nodded distractedly and waved her hand. “Yes.”

Cole grabbed his belongings and slipped out the door. He hadn’t taken a hall pass, not when the teacher would notice it missing. She wouldn’t know he was gone, but she would notice the hall pass. The teachers here were strange like that.

He opened the door to his dorm and collapsed on the ground. How was he going to explain his grades to his dad, much less the teachers? He could already hear the lecture. “Your mother would be so disappointed in you, Cole. What happened to all that potential?”

Then again, Dad didn’t pay attention to him. Cole doubted he even remembered that he existed; Dad was too busy partying. Maybe he could burn the report card and pretend it didn’t exist.

Or… Cole’s thoughts drifted to a snide comment Brant had made a few months ago. “Why don’t you just run away? Nobody would miss you — we’d be happy to see you gone.”

Cole had ignored him at the time. It was just another uncreative insult from the stereotypical bully. But it wasn’t exactly a bad idea. As strict as the school was, Cole knew all the weak spots in its system. It was easy to sneak out and never return. And he’d been thinking about leaving and never coming back for ages. This was just the final straw.

“All right, then. Guess Brant gets his wish,” Cole said. No one responded, of course — he was all alone. But talking to himself was a habit. Cole got up and went to the closet, finding the duffel bag he used to use for camping. He blew the dust off and packed anything that seemed useful. A flashlight, multiple sets of clothes, a reusable water bottle, that box of granola bars he’d bought a month ago, all the cash he had.

More food would need to be picked up from the school cafeteria, he decided. And he’d need to find a sleeping bag somehow. But everything else was ready. Cole could leave during the night — he refused to call it running away, he wasn’t running from anything — it was easier that way. This was the best option, he told himself.

Cole snuck out as soon as it was dark. He didn’t need to avoid any roommates, thankfully — anyone who’d been placed with him had moved out. It took a few minutes for him to write a letter to Jay. His best friend didn’t deserve to have him disappearing without warning, though they hadn’t been best friends since before Mom’s death. He put it in the outgoing mail on the way out, sealed with a blue sticker. Jay would know what that meant.

He took the back exit and walked down the road to the bus stop. The city’s streets were dimly lit, people rushing past him to get home. A couple looked at him curiously but didn’t stop him. A drunk man sat down next to him on the bench as they waited. Dogs barked in the distance and a truck drove past. It was peaceful, Cole thought. The most peaceful he’d been in a while.

The bus arrived just after midnight. Cole got on and paid for a ticket to the next town over. He could find a sleeping bag and extra clothes there, and the further away he got the better. He was finally leaving MOSPA and his dad behind, and he wouldn’t be stopped by something as simple as not having basic supplies.

~

Running away wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. All the books made it seem easy — there was no mention of sleeping in alleys, or trying not to get mugged, or having to do odd jobs to get money. Thank goodness for Ninjago’s lax law enforcement; nobody would have hired a thirteen-year-old if the police were good at their job. Especially a thirteen-year-old who may or may not be on the missing persons list. Cole still wasn’t sure if anyone had noticed him missing.

Cole shouldered his backpack as he walked away from Jamanakai Village. He’d managed to find work at a local restaurant a few weeks prior and had finally saved up enough money to get somewhere else. He wasn’t quite sure where his next destination would be, but for now he planned to go back to the mountain range near Ninjago City. He deserved a break, and climbing was therapeutic. The city having a lot of people to pickpocket was just a bonus.

Jamanakai was isolated, unfortunately. It would be an entire day before Cole could get to a more urban area and find a bus stop. He knew there wasn’t a lot of point in travelling so often, of course, but Cole couldn’t shake the feeling that if he didn’t keep moving, someone would find him and bring him back to MOSPA. He couldn’t let that happen. And it kept his mind off of Mom and Dad. Nope, not thinking of that today, Cole thought. It was a good day and he wasn’t going to ruin it.

“Probably enough money for a ticket to Ninjago City,” Cole muttered. “Then it’s just some hitchhiking.”

Not a difficult journey, really. Cole continued on.

~

The mountain was tall. And windy. And probably dangerous to climb without proper gear. Cole tried not to think of that as he pulled himself up the next ledge. He’d already had a close calls today, almost fell off before he found a foothold. Cole thanked Wojira that he hadn’t fallen to his death. If he was going to die, he wanted it to at least be dignified.

Only a bit more to the top of the mountain and then he could rest. Cole planned to camp there for the night and then go back down, hopefully without any major injuries. The broken ankle  still ached, and it had been months. He hadn’t been able to walk for two weeks the last time, and Cole wasn’t eager to have a repeat.

Huffing and sweaty, Cole reached the top. He climbed over the last few rocks and stopped, feeling pretty proud of himself, when he noticed the man sitting in front of him.

“Hello there,” the man said. He looked ancient, with deep set wrinkles and a long white beard. He took a sip of his drink and smiled.

Okay, that’s creepy, Cole thought. He had thought he was the only one climbing. How had he not noticed this guy?

“Wha— who are you?” The words exited Cole’s mouth without permission. He really should work on his brain-to-mouth filter at some point.

“Maybe that is a question you should ask, but first: why do you climb the mountain?” The old man looked at Cole with something like curiosity. Curiosity about what?

“Because it’s a good way to get exercise?”

“You can tell me the truth, Cole. I don’t judge.”

“How do you know my name? I never introduced myself,” Cole took a step back. Was this man some sort of stalker? Nobody knew where he was. If he got kidnapped, or murdered, no one would be able to find him. 

“Because I know you, Cole. I was there when you were born.”

“You know my Dad? Are you going to bring me back to him? Give me another lecture on how I’m a disappointment? I don’t need to hear it,” Cole crossed his arms and prepared to make a run for it. It would be suicidal to jump off the mountain, but he was a fast climber. The old man wouldn’t be able to catch up with him.

“I knew your mother. She was one of my students,” the old man stood and held up his hands in the ‘I surrender’ gesture. 

“Student?”

“I taught her to be a hero. Did you think that all the stories she told you were made up?”

Cole hadn’t thought about his mom’s stories in years. She used to tell him about great heroes who could control the very elements themselves, who tamed dragons and fought against evil. He’d loved those stories.

“You’re telling me that all those stories about ninja and dragons were real? Yeah, and I’m a giant purple unicorn,” Cole glared at the old man. This guy had to be crazy, spouting nonsense about real-life superheroes and monsters. Mom had told him those stories for entertainment and bonding, nothing more.

“You are stubborn. Also like your mother, I suppose. I can prove to you that all the old legends are real. You just have to trust me,” the man held out his hand. His face was a mixture of hope and worry and maybe a little bit of fear. Fear of what, Cole didn’t know.

Cole hesitated for a moment. There was nothing left for him back at home, if he still had one, and no one cared if he went missing. The only people he cared about were either dead or better off without him. His life truly couldn’t get any worse, and if this man had known his mom he couldn’t be too bad. Cole took the hand.

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: Catch a Falling Star

Relationship: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug

Characters: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug

Tags: Mentioned Alya Césaire and Nino Lahiffe, Mentioned Lila Rossi, Crushes, loss of friendship, Balcony Trope, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, ml salt, Mentioned Juleka Couffaine, Naive Adrien Agreste, Lila Rossi salt, Crying, Revelations, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Needs a Hug, Hugs

Summary: Adrien has been worried about Marinette, as she slowly walls herself off at school. He decides to pay her a visit as Chat to find out what's wrong, and learns more than he's bargained for. Set the night before the events of the s3 episode Ladybug. Spoilers for that and Kwamibuster.

Notes: This was my first Miraculous Ladybug fic, written back in October. Might be a bit derivative but I couldn’t get it out of my head. The song “Catch a Falling Star” was stuck in my head while writing and had an impact on the fic. I don't normally write in third person present tense, but I kept lapsing into it and gave up.

AO3 link

Part of the Catch a Falling Star series

-------

Chat is always a bit torn on how he feels on nights he patrols alone. On the one hand, he is bereft of Ladybug. On the other, it gives him time to visit a certain bakers’ daughter for talking and treats—which he desperately needs given he is burning off far more calories than he is taking in; model diets are awful. He likes their discussions, how open she is with him as Chat rather than Adrien.

Tonight, though, he’s a little worried, which is another reason he's stopping by. Adrien has noticed Marinette isn’t her bubbly self lately. She seems to go through the day almost slouched, too subdued. The warmth she usually shares with the world is just… gone. It had slowly leeched away.

She’s curled on a lawn chaise, wrapped in a blanket with her head against her knees when he lands. And when she looks up at the sound, he realizes she’s crying. Not just a little, either, her face red, eyes puffy, their light dull.

“Princess...?”

Chat is too shocked to move. He’s never seen her like this, or anywhere close to this. She has always been so strong, someone who carries everyone around her when they need a hand. He hadn’t thought she could break like this.

Marinette wipes at her eyes with a sleeve and attempts a smile that’s barely a shade of her usual brightness. Even that fades too quickly.

“I’m s-sorry, Chat… I…” She’s silent for a moment, her lower lip quivering. “I’m not g-good company tonight.”

The despair in her voice unfreezes him, and he quickly settles beside her.

“What’s wrong, Princess?” He settles an arm around her, pulling her close.

She lets out a hiccuping sob, hiding her face against her knees again. “I c-can’t do it anymore. I can’t k-keep being strong.”

Chat rubs her back in slow circles, hoping to soothe her. “What happened?”

Marinette shakes her head. “I d-don’t want to b-bother you with stupid collège drama, kitty.”

Collège drama, meaning something at school. What has Adrien missed? He tries to think of how he might get her to share, then remembers her genius as the adorable Mouse Miraculous holder.

“It’s hurting Multimouse. Superhero business.”

She peers up at him, not looking too impressed. “Former. Remember? I messed that up, too.”

“But you were amazing, and you deserve better than what’s making you cry.” Chat’s brain takes a moment to catch up with her sentence. “What do you mean, ‘too’? Don’t people call you their everyday Ladybug?”

“Not anymore.” It’s barely a whisper. “I’m jealous, petty, and a bully.”

Chat cups her cheek gently, careful with his claws, tilting her face until she’s looking at him. “You? Never.”

She avoids his gaze.

“Princess, if I hadn’t seen you as Multimouse, I’d be convinced you were my Lady!”

Marinette actually huffs at that. “Not likely. I’m just boring old Marinette.”

“You are anything but boring.”

She just shrugs, despondent. It’s as though all the fight has gone out of her. She’s gone from Marinette to a marionette, and he has to find out why.

“Who made you feel this way?” Chat wants to yeet whoever it was into the next decade.

A ghost of determination crosses her face, and she leans away. “It’s not important, kitty. It’s not like it’s an Akuma.”

Chat leans with her. “But you could be Akumatized. And honestly, Princess, that’s terrifying. I think you could beat Ladybug and me--you’re creative and smart enough to. And I don’t want to fight you.”

“I’ve fought them off,” she murmurs.

His jaw drops. “You’ve… They’ve come for you?”

Aside from himself, Marinette is the only one in their class who hadn’t been Akumatized. He expected her to laugh at the idea, but… he’s absolutely serious about the idea being terrifying.

She pulls her limbs around her tighter, making herself smaller. “A few times.”

Few meant more than once, more than twice. He draws in a sharp breath, horrified. “Princess…”

“They go away if you remember you’re not helpless.” She looks up at him suddenly, her eyes wide. “Ladybug told me.”

“I don’t want them coming for you at all,” Chat tells her firmly.

Marinette looks away again. “I’m sorry. I’m not as good as you think I am, Chat.”

He pulls her closer as she starts crying again. “You are, but you’re also human. M’Lady is also human, and I’m sure she’s had the same thing.”

Chat immediately hopes she won’t ask if he’s faced it, but what she does say is worse.

“It’s… getting harder to remember I’m not alone. That there are options. I d-don’t know if I can keep—” She breaks off with a sob. “It’s t-too much.”

It might not be the best move, pulling her in his lap and letting her sob against his chest. It might be inappropriate. But if he was as upset as her, he would want the contact, so he risks it, murmuring soft nonsense to her until her sobs turn to soft tears again. It reminds him of holding Ladybug, the few times she’s ever been upset, and he doesn’t want to think about that—he so wished Marinette was her.

“Tell me?” he asks softly. “Letting it out to a friendly ear can help sometimes.”

Chat can feel in her body language when she relents, and he waits for her to gather her thoughts.

“I’m really not a good person,” she starts, and he has to stop himself from interrupting. “A while back, a new girl came to school, and was getting really friendly with someone… someone I liked. I followed them, because I really was jealous.”

Marinette is too kind to give him Lila’s name, but of course he knows it anyway. She sniffles, leaning her head against Chat’s chest, and he winds up learning how his father’s book disappeared—Lila had stolen it and thrown it in the trash—and Marinette had fished it out and even taken the blame when returning it to his father. She had even seen Ladybug confront the liar.

He hadn’t known she had done that for him, or that she had seen Ladybug yell at Lila for lying. Chat rubs her shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell him the truth?”

Marinette snorts. “That convoluted mess? He probably wouldn’t’ve believed me, and then A— that boy would be stuck at home instead of in school. He’s stuck like that enough already.” She shakes her head. “I just wanted him to be happy.”

He learns she knows about Lila’s Volpina Akumazation—and that she heard it happened again on Heroes Day. And her relief at the girl’s disappearance, even if it meant occasionally she Skyped and lied about where she was.

When Marinette falls silent, Chat pulls away slightly. “Princess?”

She curls in on herself again. “When she came back, she pretended to have disabilities. So Nino—another friend—gave her his seat at the front. But then he took my seat, and so everyone changed seats. But I guess no one wanted to sit next to me, no one cared where I’d want to sit. I wound up in the back. Away from my friends. Like I wasn’t important.”

Her voice is steadily getting softer, and Chat’s glad for his enhanced hearing. She tells him of the class turning on her when she asked why she was in the back, like she doubted Lila’s disability, her best friend accusing her of jealousy over a boy. He had the uncomfortable feeling it was over him—his civilian self, at least—regardless of what she had said at the wax museum.

Adrien doesn’t know what to do with that information. He adores Marinette; if not for Ladybug, he knows he would return her crush.

And then she tells him about being threatened in the bathroom. Chat stiffens—she didn’t tell him that before. He recalls his words to her at school, and knows now how wrong they were.

“That’s when I saw the Akuma, and I fought it off, and she became Chameleon.”

She falls silent again, and Chat feels he needs to say something. “So this is that Lila Rossi girl who keeps getting Akumatized.”

Marinette nods. “I don’t know why the Akuma would go after her—she wasn’t upset. She had me where she wanted me. But A— that boy I liked… he said I shouldn’t say anything about her lies anymore. That I should just let her lies reveal her eventually. Otherwise she might get Akumatized.”

“But what about you?” slips from his mouth before he can stop himself. He feels like a heel for giving her that advice without knowing the whole story.

Her lips twist in the sort of bitter smile that he’s used to seeing on Chloé. Not on her. It’s wrong on her.

“That’s what I wondered. I stopped saying anything, though. Because I’m an idiot and I liked him and I thought he had my back. But I wasn’t going to pretend to be friends with her or to believe her. I wind up lying enough—I’m not going to be an accessory to her lies.”

Chat blinks. Is that what he’s been doing? Being Lila’s accessory. “Are you angry with him?”

Marinette seems startled by the question and frowns. He can tell she’s weighing how she feels, considering carefully before she answers.

“I want to be,” she whispers. “It’d be easy. But he’s… naïve about how to deal with bullies. They don’t go away if you ignore them. They just get worse. But how would he know? He’s been homeschooled most his life and his only friend was Chloé Bourgeois, and she’s Queen Bully. And it took me years to stand up to her, so he… I guess he’s kind of the doormat I used to be.”

She falls silent again, and Chat waits for her to continue, considering her words as he does. She’s not wrong—he doesn’t know how to stand up to bullies. He’s only just learned to stand up to Chloé. A little, anyway. The “doormat” comment hurts, though, more than he expected.

“I can tell Lila makes him uncomfortable, touching and hanging on him like she does. Like he’s a possession. His smile is fake when that happens, but he doesn’t stop her.”

“He’s a boy, though. Aren’t guys supposed to like girls touching them?” Chat asks.

Marinette frowns up at him. “Kitty, it’s sexual harassment, any gender. Unwanted touching is actually sexual assault, too, even if it’s a girl doing it to a boy.”

She’s worried about him, he realizes. More than that, he’s never thought he has other options beyond grin and bear it with Lila and other girls. He’s never been told that’s not normal or acceptable behavior. He really is naïve.

Chat is also well aware that he pulled Marinette in his lap without asking. He shifts away from her a bit. “Is this okay, Princess? I didn’t ask, and—”

“Oh, kitty!” Marinette flushes and interrupts him. “You— I mean, you’re not— This isn’t—” She takes a deep breath. “You’re trying to comfort me, as a friend. Not trying to possess me. It’s not… not, um, sexual.”

Chat can feel his face heating, and knows he’s blushing himself.

“There’s a difference. I don’t think he knows that he can say no. He’s so sheltered, Chat. And I can barely talk to him so it’s not like I can help.” She sighs. “And Lila would make it a big thing if I did and I’d look like the bad guy again. I can’t help him when I can’t even help myself.”

Chat winces. He’s been completely unaware of her isolation, and he has no excuse for that. “Does he know that’s happening?”

Marinette shrugs. “I thought he had my back, that all that mattered was that we knew. But Lila started telling lies about me, making me look petty and heartless and cruel, and he hasn’t said anything. My best friend thinks I’m unreasonable and mean because I don’t want to be around Lila. I barely see my friends outside of school anymore.”

Chat is unprepared when her tears start again.

“So I guess she followed through on her threat. Maybe they weren’t really friends in the first place. Maybe they were just using me. Or they only want me when they need me. And only if I’m doing what they want. Only when I’m positive.”

He hugs her close, not sure what to say. He can’t understand why the class would treat her like this; Marinette has bent over backwards for them, always working to help. All Lila’s done is give them pretty stories.

“I wonder if he was ever a friend, or if he was just being polite.”

Chat goes still, horrified that he’s given her that impression as Adrien. But he’s never realized how much self-doubt she has; she hides it from everyone, and no wonder given what’s been happening. And he hasn’t stood up for her. He’s failed her.

“Maybe he thinks I’m annoying and mean and p-petty, too.” A sob breaks through, but she forces herself to keep going. “Maybe I never really saw him at all, just thought his smiles at me were real because I was infatuated with him. M-maybe he thinks I deserve this. Maybe I do.”

“You don’t deserve any of it.” Chat can’t stop the growl in his voice, and he takes a few breaths to calm himself. He’s made her feel this way, and he hates that. “Princess, you deserve so much better.”

She hugs him tightly, sobbing, and he holds her, resolving to change. To work to protect her. To be the friend she deserves but apparently doesn’t have. He let everyone abandon his everyday Ladybug, and now she’s full of self-doubt, a fallen star, because Adrien is inept.

Chat runs his clawed fingers through her hair, something he himself loves, something that comforts him, gently pulling loose the bands that keep it in pigtails, brushing through it. It takes a while, but she slowly calms. The way she’s relaxed against him, she’s close to sleep, but there’s more he wants to ask.

“Have you told your parents all this, Princess?” He’s limited in power, but he imagines her mom on the warpath could get things done.

Marinette shakes her head. “If things get worse, I might ask about… changing schools. Starting fresh.”

The idea chills him—school without Marinette, the very first friend he’d made on his own. He’d already felt the loss with her pulling away and into herself, staying distant and losing her shine. It’s what led to him coming here as Chat.

“You shouldn’t have to do that, Princess.” He realizes his hands have stopped, and he moves them closer to her scalp, brushing the skin.

“I know. But… it’s an option. Something that means I’m not helpless.” Her voice is a sleepy murmur. “Helps me against Akuma, maybe.”

He doesn’t like it, not at all, but it’s better than her being helpless to Hawkmoth. He never imagined she would be at risk of being Akumatized, but maybe he’d placed her on the same pedestal as he had Ladybug.

“What if you talked to that boy you like? Maybe he can help.”

She shakes her head, sinking more deeply against him. It occurs to him that their position together is almost… intimate. But he’s her friend, comforting her. Nothing more.

“I can’t… If he doesn’t believe me, I don’t think I could handle it.”

He wishes he could reassure her, but it runs the risk of revealing his identity. “I could talk to him? Make him see sense? Help him see you?”

“Kitty, don’t worry about it. It’s not worth it.” She sighs again as his hand grazes her ear and moves to the nape of her neck. “I don’t think I feel that way about him anymore. I wasn’t really healthy about it, anyway. I obsessed, I guess. I needed to stop. Maybe this was a wake up call. I’ve had a lot of time to think these past few weeks.”

She’s given up, he realizes. On him—or his civilian self, anyway. He doesn’t expect the tightness in his chest, the sense of loss that creeps through his body like the remnants of waves on a beach. Chat knows he should feel guilty that he’s cheated on his feelings for Ladybug, but he doesn’t. Rather, he’s amazed at the revelation that it’s possible to love more than one person like that at once.

Marinette is nearly asleep in his arms, and though he wants to keep holding her, she’s moved on. It isn’t fair to her for him to cling now just because he’s had a revelation.

“Let’s get you to bed, Princess. Wouldn’t want you to catch cold.”

He picks her up like the princess he sees her as, smiling as she loops her arms around his neck. He’s careful descending into her room, but once he’s fully in, he can’t move.

The pictures that once covered her walls are gone. All the ones of their friends, all the ones of him. The only two remaining are one picture of him in the pigeon hat, and another of him and Juleka modeling her designs. Replacing the rest are sketches of future designs. There’s nothing of Alya or Nino anymore.

“Kitty?”

“Just noticed you redecorated.”

He walks the few feet to her platform bed, gently easing her into it and pulling her sheets and blankets over her.

She manages a sleepy smile. “Treats on the desk under me. Take them.”

“I will.”

“Chat… Thank you. Talking did help.”

He reaches forward, burying his fingers in her hair again. She looks so different with it down.

“I’m glad,” he says finally. “Sweet dreams, Princess.”

He takes the plate of treats up with him, shutting the trapdoor behind him. Even after the treats are eaten, he finds himself still on her roof, engrossed in his thoughts. Only the distant chime of church bells indicating the late hour rouses him from his reverie, the tolls chasing him home.

Plagg is unusually quiet when he detransforms, letting him think uninterrupted.

He’ll change his behavior, starting tomorrow. Adrien will become the ally and friend she deserves. Not because it might rekindle anything—he doesn’t deserve it—but because he should have been one the whole time.

He doesn’t know it’s too late, that Lila’s plans will culminate in the morning with Marinette’s expulsion. That all he’ll be able to do is damage control after letting the liar’s claws dig into the school unchallenged for so long.

All he can do is try to help Marinette shine again, and never let her fade away.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #264

I did tell y’all WoW would devour my life again when I got my laptop back lmao. But I’m still alive!!

When you wake up to pee at night, do you turn on the light? You mean like, in the bathroom? Uh, yeah? When was the last time you got a fresh box of crayons? Damn dude, I don't have a clue. What color is your favorite towel? I don't have a favorite. They're all just random colors. Do you know anyone’s phone number by heart? Actually no, not since Mom got a new phone. I really need to learn it. Do you wear hoodies? Yeah, one Pikachu one. Something your mother said or did that shocked you: We were arguing and she tried to kick me out of the car once. Obviously I didn't listen. It was one of our worst arguments. How many different homes have you live in?We're in our fourth house now. WELL there's another if you count the apartment, but I didn't officially live there, I was just... always there even though it was against policy lmao. Then when we were technically homeless I "lived" with my former best friend, but again, that was not an official thing. Did your mom go to college? She is, though cancer has thrown a wrench in the plan... She's on her final semester of a bachelor's degree in social work. With cancer now plus this wild quarantine, we don't really know what's going on. Where is the best place you know to take a dog for a walk? We have a park maybe like 15 minutes from here that's pretty decent. Nice fountain, fishing docks, plenty of ducks. Are there any crazy sandwich combinations you like to eat? It's not "crazy," as I know it's actually tasty to some people: having lunch meat, cheese, mustard, and potato chips. I haven't had that in yeeeaaars. Which food do you think you have the most cans of in your cupboard? Uh. I'm not sure. We usually have fruit, beans, and soup in there, but I'm not sure which there's more of. Do you save fortunes from fortune cookies? No. Are you offended when Christmas is spelled Xmas? No. Do you prefer rugs or bare floors? Rugs. Describe your favorite mug or glass to drink from? I don't really drink from any. Your bad habit that you love the most: Heh, drinking soda... Do you name your pets after tv/movie/book characters: I have before, yes. Had a guinea pig named Harry Potter lol, rats named Tezzeret and Rhoka, and... that may be it. I am not positive, had a lotta pets... Have you ever died in one of your dreams? Yes. Which is tastier: fruity gum or minty gum? Fruity. Be honest, have you ever bullied anybody? Who was it? Oh my god, I was about to say no, but wait. When I first started RP at around 9, I had the impression you were supposed to always be in-character. Me, at the time my account being just "mozart2" (I don't count her as my first RP character though, she turned into Ruby and was drastically changed) on the Animal Planet forum, wanted to be the "dominant female," and one of the girls whose name was like Angelkiss or something was "mean" to me and so I reciprocated until I GOT FUCKING BANNED ON THIS ACCOUNT I'M WRITING THIS AND IT'S SO EMBARRASSING WHAT THE FUCK WAS WRONG WITH ME I HATE YOUNG ME SO MUCH. What is the cutest Halloween costume for a baby to wear? Idk. Is it a turn-off if somebody’s teeth are stained yellow? Not necessarily. Yellow doesn't mean dirty + everyone is supposed to have some coloration, and I can't say shit anyway 'cuz mine are kinda yellow from poor self-care in the past anyway. I just care that they're clean. Which of your friends is the tallest? Which of them is the shortest? Girt is a damn giant lmao. I only reach his chest. Shortest, I'm unsure. Do you know any quotes from Forrest Gump? Well besides the famous ones, no. HA, fun fact that cracked me the fuck up though, someone in the government in NC that is running for... something, there are sometimes like three signs in a row along the road that say "RUN FORREST, RUN" and I fuckin died the first time I saw it. Do you believe in demonic possession? How about ghosts? Angels? I don't believe in angels or demons, so. Ghosts, yes. Would you rather judge a singing or dancing competition? Why? Dancing, for sure. I'm more educated on the form and techniques, plus it's way more entertaining. What was the mascot at your elementary school? A bulldog. It was super cute, and in art class, the art students all worked together to make colorful, clay models that were in the principal's office. Everyone loved them. Have you ever fallen down in public? Did anybody see you? Yes and yes. Do you scream when you go on rollercoasters? Do you close your eyes? I'll probably never know 'cuz my ass is afraid of them lmao. I get dizzy too easily and I'm terrified of the potential of getting sick. Do you think home-made cards are better than store-bought ones? They're more thoughtful imo. What is one romantic movie that you enjoy enough to watch more than once? The Notebook. Who was the last person to walk out of your life, and why? By their volition, probably a Facebook friend. How did you decide upon your favorite colors? I didn't know you could pick your favorite color. Are you less likely to approach people that look/dress a certain way? Wow no. I mean unless they look obviously dangerous, like if they had blood on them or something like that. What is your favorite Starburst candy flavor? If you say anything but pink, you're wrong. Do you prefer schedules and plans, or spontaneity? Schedules. Sponteneity, usually, stresses me out. How do you let someone know that you like him/her? I mean idk. Act like it or say it. Do you think that you act like yourself while online? I'm more myself online. Have you ever lied about something to get someone to like you? Hell no. I'd want them to like me for who I actually am. Would you rather buy presents for others, or receive them? BUY, so long as I'm happy with what I bought and know it'll make them happy. How did you meet your current best friend? YouTube. The last song/poem/story you wrote - what was it about? I haven't finished it, but I'm writing a poem about the strength of cancer patients following Mom getting her hair shaved off. Are you a mostly blunt person? No, because I'm too afraid of starting an argument. Do you have any talents that come naturally? I guess writing since I've been applauded for it since I was very little. Do you go out often? Even before quarantine, not at all. I go out so little that my eyes seriously hurt when I step outside; I always have to squint or entirely close my eyes for a few seconds. What's the best Valentine's Day gift you've gotten? There was one year Jason got me a really pretty heart box of chocolates plus the game Heavy Rain and a pink rose. May still have a picture of it on my old phone... Is there anyone who is overly nice to you? No. It's hard to be "overly nice" in my opinion. Would you prefer internet or television? Internet. What is something you lose often? I'm not sure. Not a lot. Do you enter a lot of sweepstakes? I never do. How old is your oldest sibling? 30-something. Have you ever considered writing a novel? Yes. Who's the last person you said I love you to? Mom or Sara. What's your stance on spooning? What a question. It's comforting, but I usually can't actually fall asleep like that because I get too hot. Have you ever been "popular?" Nah, not really. Well, I was pretty well-known in the meerkat YouTube community as an editor, but not like, Yelozo level. Has someone ever tried to convert you? Well, I was a Christian when my sister's friend's grandpa made me like, SUPER uncomfortable by talking to me all the way home from school (he had to drive us this day) about the Bible and stuff because it was his "job" as a religious man and I kinda had to take this little Bible from him just to be nice. Even when I was a Christian I wasn't VERY religious and really really felt like he was hardcore shoving his beliefs down my throat. Are you thin? Ha ha no. Do you like big earrings? Heavy/big earrings ruined my ears, so no. The holes are too stretched now and is why I'm putting very small gauges in so it doesn't look as stupid when I put an earring in and it just barely hangs on because my ear lobe literally looks like it could tear. Animated character that was your gay awakening? HA, there's been a few that looking back, I definitely thought were more than pretty, even as a kid, like Sheego from Kim Possible. But #1? Holy mother of fuck, Bayonetta. That is one fuckin HOT MAMA. What show/YouTube video(s) do you put on in the background when you don’t have anything to watch but you want something on? Hmm. It really does depend on what I feel like semi-watching. Maybe like, a let's play where I'm not THAT interested in the game, but I still do listen and glance over. Your go-to bar order, if you drink? I've never been to a bar, but when I go out to eat and I feel like getting a drink, it's usually a margarita. What’s your favorite pair of shoes that you own? UGGGGHHHHH my tall leather boots with all these buckles and stuff. They're hot. What was your first word as a child (that wasn’t a variation of “Mom” or “Dad”)? I don’t know. What’s a job that you’ve had that people might be surprised to find out you’ve had? Nothing that's really "surprising." Just three ordinary minimum wage jobs. What’s directly across from you? My snake's terrarium. Do you own any signed books/memorabilia in general? No. ;-; I wish. What do you get on your bagels? What WOULD you get if you had access to anything you wanted? I've only ever had cream cheese. NO WAIT, I tried jam once and it was fucking repulsive. One bite and I was like "fuck no." I think it was strawberry jam though, which I hate. I'm not sure what else I'd try as idk what would taste good. Fruity or herbal teas? Neither. What’s that one TV show that you’re a little bit embarrassed to watch but you still like nonetheless? None. It's funny, as a kid when I thought I was "too old," I tried to hide the fact I still adored Pokemon, but for years now I've just been like "lol fuck yeah man Pokemon." What was your “phase” when you were younger? (i.e., Mythology Nerd, Horse Girl, Space Geek, etc) Being an emo/goth/metalhead thing was NEVER a phase, Mom. Goddamn do I wish I could afford a gothic wardrobe laksjdfawde. What’s that one outfit in your closet you never get the chance to wear but want to? There's no telling. I rarely check my closet for "special" clothes, but rather my dresser. Where do you sit in the living room (we all have a preferred spot, and you know it)? The couch. Are you a “Quote that relates to the photos” caption-er, an “explanation of where I took the photos” caption-er, or a no caption kinda person when you post pictures online? I'm all of them, plus sometimes song lyrics I find relevant lmao leave me alone. Name a classic Vine: YO that one of the dude looking for his berries with a WILD outfit, expression, and voice and then scares adventurers away from his tree made me fuckin cry for about 1,000 repeats. I miss Vine, man, good shit. What’s the freezer food that you stock up on when you go to the grocery store? We don't really "stock up" on any particular food. We do, however, tend to get a large box of frozen rats for Venus, if you can count that, but obviously that's not from the grocery store lol. How do you top your ice cream? Chocolate syrup mmmMMMMMMMMMMM Do you like Jello? Yeah. Do you have a fear, even only a slight fear of insects? I do. Do you have a favorite poem you like and can recall? If so, what is it? I don't have a favorite, no. Have you ever resided in a home that was haunted: *shrugs* I do think paranormal things happened in my last house, but idk about calling it haunted. Do you ever play any MMORPGS: Just WoW. What’s the closest river to you? Tar River. Have you ever been in a building with over 100 floors? I don't think so. What bird is the cutest? Oh, I don't know. Something small and pudgy lol. Are you scared to look at your own organs on x-ray or ultrasound? No, that shit is so cool. Have you ever held a real sword? No. What do you think about most? PTSD is v fun. My brain naturally drifts to relating topics when I don't know what to think about, which is most of the time. Certainly don't try to, but it just. Happens. Most attractive singer of your opposite gender? Hell man, idk. I do have a weakness for Kellin Quin though; he's the first to come to mind. What was the last film you saw in the cinema? The Lion King. What are you currently listening to? "Saturnalia" by Marilyn Manson. How many people have you kissed, that you can HONESTLY say you loved? Two. The last person to be under covers with you? Sara. What's the compliment you get the most? Uhhh I think it's "I like your tattoo" (referring to my Mark one). BITCH just wait til it gets tidied up for four hours. Have you ever disliked someone just because a friend disliked them? If they have good reason to, yes. I can't deeply dislike someone I don't know/have personally seen be a piece of shit, but I can sure not be fond of them until they prove unworthy of that judgment. Have you ever won a lot of money in a slot machine? How much? Never gambled and don't plan to. Do you eat/drink at your computer? Yes, oops. How much do you overeat at special occasions? (Birthdays, Christmas, etc) Actually, I tend to under-eat at most special occasions because odds are I'm not going to like the food. This isn't always the case, but yeah. Do you think it's important to enjoy your job or do you just work for money? I think it's very important to enjoy it. If you had to, which record would you go into Guinness World Records for? Probably the longest consecutive hours of not leaving the computer laksdfjawe I hate myself. Do/Did you enjoy school? Why (not)? From the very beginning, I hated school. It's why I was a goddamn monster to get up in the morning, even in high school. I only enjoyed (to a degree, anyway) my most recent college because it was a way to get out of the house and work towards my future. Do you find it difficult to sleep at night? Any reason(s) why? Boy, do I. Most recently, after being put on a medication for my nightmares/terrors (which works!), I have intense muscle spasms in my legs, oddly only when I'm falling asleep. Apparently it's a very rare side effect of it, but I'm willing to tolerate it in place of having nightly terrors. Then there's my PTSD and just general poor self-image that can both send me down a total spiral. Have you ever wished you were born the opposite gender? Why? Not legitimately. Like I've wondered what it would be like, but I've never truly wanted to be a guy. I'm just content with being what comes with being genetically female. Do you think you'd make a good model? Would you ever want to be one? Hell to the fuck no. Have you had an argument with anyone recently? If so, do you still have issues with that person? Not recently, no. Who was the last person that asked to hang out with you? Tell me the story of how you met that person, everything you remember. Hell man, I don't have a clue. Have you ever worn colored mascara? If not, would you ever think about trying it? And if you have, what is/was your favorite color to wear? No, but I guess, if I had a reason to? What do you remember about your first day of secondary school? Were you more nervous or excited about it? I very faintly remember I had no desire to be there. Before Facebook became popular, did you use any other social networking site, like Bebo or Myspace? Yeah, I had Myspace. Has anyone ever asked you out, and you turned them down? If so, did you feel guilty about it? Why do you think you said no? Yes, and not *really*, as I'm very strict with myself about whom I date. It's just awkward. And I just didn't like one guy romantically in elementary, my best male childhood friend was black (mind you I haven't been racist in the least since I was a tiny kid, I was just raised like that), and I knew Juan had a bad rep. Have you ever asked anyone “Do you love me?” If so, did you get the response you wanted? Do you think when someone says “I love you”, you feel obliged to say it back? Ugh. Let's not. I feel obligated only with family. Has someone of the opposite sex ever sang to you? If so, how did you respond to it? LET'S. FUCKIN. NOT. If you’ve had a bad experience in a past relationship, did you find that you were scared to get into another relationship, in case the same thing happened again? Terrified.

[illuminating-dragons]

Recreation

Summary:  After the Wizarding War, Dudley has a choice to make. He can go back home, back to where he knows who he is, or go out into the world, and try to become something more. He chooses the braver option.

Word Count: 3,497

Notes: Requested by @harryjamesheadcanons

           The Wizarding War was the first time in his life Dudley felt powerless.

           As a child, he could send his parents scurrying with a few screams. His teachers were afraid of his mother’s shrieks, the neighbours were afraid of Vernon Dursley’s influence, and the kids were afraid of his fists.

           The kids, of course, including his cousin.

           But after the Dementors, Dudley realized that his power wasn’t enough to make people like him. And it wasn’t enough now to drown out the voices he’d heard, the voices he could hear so much more clearly now—the ones that said he was slow and clumsy and cruel and stupid, and wouldn’t be worth much once he was alone in the world.

           Dudley was lucky during the war. He wasn’t alone; his mother and father were there, and Hestia and Dedalus were there too. They got some snippets of news, terrible as it was, but they were far away from it in that little cabin in Wales.

           They were too far away.

           Dudley hated the terrible wizard (couldn’t say his name, couldn’t say his name even though he knew it, heard his cousin screaming it in his sleep), hated that he used his power on defenceless Muggles. It wasn’t fair; just like the giant giving him a tail as a child hadn’t been fair. The Muggles had no chance; they didn’t even know what they were facing. They didn’t know what to be scared of.

           And Dudley knew then the depth of his own hypocrisy.

           He’d bullied and cheated and lied his way through life, letting his parents spoil him, letting himself indulge in whatever he wanted. And now he was being hidden by his cousin’s friends because You-Know-Who might come after them.

           Might. They were his blood relatives, the people he’d lived with for so many years, and no one was quite certain that the Death Eaters would think to use them as leverage.

           That was terrible. And it was partly Dudley’s fault.

           He tried to talk to his parents about it, but his father spent most of those months drinking and staring at the telly mindlessly. When Dudley tried to bring up his fears, his worries, his father would shake his head.

           “You’re a fine lad, Dudders,” he slurred. “Better’n any of these freaks.”

           Once Dudley would have believed him. Now the words felt like a well-executed series of punches to the gut.

           His mother wasn’t much help either. She was thinner now, nearly skeletal, and spent her day wandering the house, trying to clean things again and again, no matter how many times Hestia offered to do it by magic.  “Dudley, this isn’t our world. This isn’t our fight. Your cousin had no right to get us involved.”

           “We’re his family!” Dudley shouted back one day. “We should be involved.”

           He recoiled a second later from his mother’s scream. “We are not his family! My sister made that choice long ago, and now we are suffering because of him!”

           Stunned, Dudley went upstairs and locked his bedroom door. That wasn’t right, a voice inside him insisted. Something was wrong.

           Dudley stopped bringing up his questions with his parents, but he worked it out on his own as best he could. He even asked Hestia if she could help him. Dudley felt horrible as he choked out what he was, what he’d done, but she listened.

           “You need some serious help,” was what she said. “You poor, poor child.”

           Hestia had been studying to be a mind Healer—Dudley thought it must be like being a psychologist—and even though she wasn’t fully trained she helped him through some of his problems. They stole moments together late at night and early morning, talking about the problems indulgence causes, the identity crisis that can happen once someone realizes their behaviour has been wrong, and the difficulty of pulling away from toxic behaviour when it is endorsed at home.

           Then the war was over—Hestia cried and told him about all the people who were now dead, but not Harry, not Harry, and Dudley was so grateful he almost cried—and they could go home. But Dudley didn’t go with them.

           “I’m finished with school,” he told them. “I want to go away for a while.”

           His parents let him, still too hurt themselves to really notice his struggles. Dudley moved to Manchester alone. They gave him a small allowance, and that was enough for a small flat. Dudley got a job as a janitor at the news building, and cleaned without complaint. He’d never done it before, but to his surprise it turned out to be interesting and even easy. It brought him a lot of pride to see the clean rooms, and soon he started making friends in the building. Well, friends was perhaps a strong word; he was friendly with some of the people who worked in the newsroom, because he always came and cleaned, no matter what the mess was.

           One lady was always nice to him. Her name was Iris. She was a film critic, and she was frightened of him at first. He could see the fear in her face and shoulders. He used to enjoy those signs. Now it made him sad.

           That was fixed his second week, when he went to get more supplies from the closet and found Iris struggling with Paula Murt, her boss.

           His boxing training got the older woman away from Iris long enough for her to call the police. Iris was Paula’s latest victim, and her other office mates rallied around her, giving testimony to years of sexual and physical abuse. Dudley wished he could have helped sooner, or that he’d hit the woman harder.

           From that point on, everyone in that office was kind to Dudley. They chatted with him when he came in, started being more careful about messes, and they told him all about their lives. Pretty soon Dudley knew almost everything about everyone. “You’re good at keeping secrets,” Iris explained, now the head writer in that division. “That’s why we trust you.”

           Of course he was good at keeping secrets. He didn’t have anyone to talk to outside of work.

           Besides Iris, his favourite person in the office was Beth. Beth was the food critic, she had three sons and a cheerful husband, and she wasn’t scared of Dudley. She was a boxer too, and they’d done a few training sessions together. Afterwards, they would go out to eat. Beth would ask him how he liked the food, and Dudley (who’d kept losing weight and now tried to eat only good food) would give her his opinion. Apparently he was funny, because Beth would laugh.

           “You should try writing for the paper,” Beth urged him.

           Dudley shook his head. “I’m no good.”

           “Oh, go on.”

           “I mean it. I’m not good at writing.”

           Beth didn’t believe him, but that didn’t matter in the end. The next week all three of her children fell ill, and she had to stay home from work. When she called in, Iris waved Dudley over.

           “Beth says you’d be a good replacement. What do you think?”

           “I think I don’t write very well.”

           “Are you dyslexic?”

           “No, I can read.” Dudley bowed his head. “I’ve just always had a hard time writing. It’s not my hands.”

           “Show me, please.”

           Dudley couldn’t refuse.

           Iris looked at his scrawled gibberish. “I think you might have dysgraphia. It’s a problem with writing.”

           “What do I do about it?”

           “I’m not sure about what you would do as an adult; that probably should have been caught when you were young. I’ll make some calls, alright? See what I can do. In the meantime, can you read your writing?”

           “Yes.”

           “Why don’t you go out then and take notes. When you get back, I may have a solution.”

           Dudley returned from the new seafood restaurant having just barely escaped food poisoning. “I want to write about those idiots.” He showed Iris the dozen or so pages of scribbles.

           “You can,” Iris replied. She indicated a short man. “This is Leo. He’s an editor, he can transcribe what you’re saying.”

           Leo was new to the building, dressed all in blue, and he had the biggest brown eyes Dudley had ever seen. They spent an afternoon going through Dudley’s impressions: “décor like an old antique shop”—“fish on the wrong side of raw”—“my server was the only bright spot; she noticed the mold on the sauce before I did”. Dudley wanted to publish under Beth’s byline, but Leo insisted they make their own. They finally agreed on Lee Durley.

           When Beth returned to work, she was delighted to see that Dudley had been hired as a food critic. From then on, Lee Durley appeared every other day, usually covering the extreme restaurants; the cheap, the expensive, the awful, the exquisite (not always at the same time). Leo and Dudley would go out together and eat. They only ate at places once, hence the column name ‘One Time Review’. Beth went to the restaurants a few times to compare, and that created a playful dialogue between the columns that people loved.

           It wasn’t long before Dudley and Leo were going out on nights when they had no column to write, just to spend time together. Other nights they would go to Leo’s (much nicer) apartment and Leo would encourage Dudley through writing exercises. After four months of this Dudley managed to write a review entirely on his own by hand, and he’d learn proper shorthand. Ecstatic, Leo kissed him.

           And for the first time in years—maybe the first time ever—Dudley was happy.

           He was trembling as he tried to decide whether or not to call his parents. He remembered another time that had set him trembling this badly.

           “Who’s Cedric, your boyfriend?”

           And he’d prayed in the split second before Harry answered that he wasn’t, because Harry was a freak and Harry was wrong and if he liked boys, that meant it was a freak thing to do. And Dudley might have done many things but he’d never hurt someone for being queer. He wasn’t sure what his parents would do. Particularly since it turned out he wasn’t gay at all, because before Leo there’d been a brief fling with Jessica from the finance column. Leo had just gotten top surgery the year before, and he’d told Dudley that he was still willing to bear children. So he was…poly? Pan? He wasn’t sure how to say it right, to say that he understood that there were more than two genders and he liked more than two genders. He just loved Leo.  

           But his parents surprised him. “Bring him down to meet us,” his mother squealed, and his father said only, “I’m glad you’ve found someone.”        

           The next few years were cheerful ones. Dudley and Leo got hired full-time to write their column, and apart from occasional experiences with food poisoning (and one memorable day when a restaurant caught fire), it was a pleasant experience. Dudley and Leo moved into a flat together, and they had a decent life.

           And then Leo had to make a decision.

           “I want to have your baby,” he told Dudley. “And I better do it now, before I start too many hormone treatments.”

           Dudley was terrified. A child? Could he do that? The way he’d been raised, he knew next to nothing about parenting. It wasn’t about giving kids what they wanted at all times, it was about raising them, teaching them to be good, all of those things.

           But Leo had his heart set on it, and Iris encouraged them, and Dudley agreed. They would try for a child.

           Leo became pregnant almost immediately, and the next nine months were hard on both of them. Dudley was frantic, trying to find every book he could and read them as quick as possible, ad he was trying to protect his partner from being attacked.

           “I don’t mind them misgendering me,” Leo said through tears one night, a hand on his pregnant belly. “God knows it’s weird to see a pregnant man. But I just…I just want my baby, why do I have to go back to being Rachel to do that?”

           Dudley held his hands and took care of him and wrote most of their columns on his own. Leo learned to make concessions; he let his hair grow out again (and after the baby was born, he  kept it almost to his shoulders) and wore more ‘feminine clothes’, though he drew the line at dresses. After the first few miserable months of morning sickness, he joined Dudley for some of their reviews. They were actually in a restaurant when Leo’s water broke.

           He laboured for twelve hours, and he had to check in as Rachel and Dudley was told to ‘support your girlfriend’. But neither of them minded, because at the end of twelve hours they were together as partners, Leo and Dudley, as they held their baby daughter.

           She was named for her godmothers, Iris Elizabeth Dursley. Her grandparents squealed over her, but Dudley took them aside and said something quietly.

           “I don’t know if she’s magic. She might be. If she is, you better not turn your backs on her, or you will lose contact with all of us.”

           Shaken, his parents nodded. Dudley wasn’t sure if they would actually behave, but he intended to stick to his guns no matter what.

           A few days later, Dudley and Leo had their first picture taken of them above their column, with Iris in Leo’s arms. They’d never revealed their real names, and it was a big step for Leo to come out that way, but he insisted he was okay with it. “The more visibility, the better for young kids who don’t feel right in their own skin.”

           The photo brought in loads of mail, a lot of it pleasant, some of it so nasty that Iris (the Elder, which is what Leo called her) got the police after the senders, and one letter Dudley had never thought he would see.

           It was the last letter of the day, and Dudley was sitting with Iris in a sling, and he read it with utter shock.

           Dear Big D,

           Congratulations on your partner and your baby! She looks very sweet, she really takes after her fathers. I’m happy to see that you’ve made a life for yourself, outside of our old house. That must have taken a lot of effort, and I hope you feel satisfied.

           I’ve wondered where you were for a while now; I didn’t want to contact your parents, and I couldn’t find any record of you in Surrey. I’d be happy to come to Manchester; I don’t to make you travel with an infant, I know how hard that is. If you don’t want to see me, that’s fine, but I thought I’d better take this chance to write.

                                                                                                         Your Cousin,

                                                                                                          Harry Potter

           The return address on the letter was a postal box in London. Dudley waited until Leo woke up the next morning, and they talked about what they should do. Leo didn’t know about the magical world, but he knew the rest of the story.

           “It doesn’t sound like your cousin is really asking for anything,” Leo said carefully. “I think he just wants to see you. But hasn’t he heard of Facebook?”

           “I don’t think he’s the type for that,” Dudley said carefully. He really wasn’t quite sure how much to say. “I would like to see him. We have unfinished business.”

           Leo caught his wrist as he tried to rise. “Dudley, just remember that this is your life now. You’ve done a hard job of reinventing yourself. I don’t want your cousin to trigger you into going back.”

           “I’d rather die than be what I once was,” Dudley said. “Because I wouldn’t be worthy of you or Iris.” And he meant it. He hated the person he’d once been, and though he knew parts of it were because of his parents, a lot of it fell on his shoulders.

           Dear Harry,

           I think it would be nice to reconnect. Do you have access to a phone? My number is on the back of this, and you can call and arrange a time. If you can’t phone, write me back straight away.  

                                                                                                       Your Cousin,

                                                                                                               Dudley

           Harry called two days later. “Hello, Dudley.”

           “Harry.” Dudley fumbled for words; what should he say? What do you say when you have history like theirs?

           He heard a baby’s cry from the other end. “You have a child?”

           “I have three.” Harry sounded tired, but very proud. “Lily’s my baby, and I have two sons, James and Al.”

           “That’s nice. Leo and I are just going to have Iris.”

           “How is she?”

           “She’s…incredible. Babies are so small.” Dudley blushed. Obviously babies are small.

           But Harry just said, “I know. You’d think after having almost a dozen nieces and nephews and three kids of my own I’d get used to it, but…they’re so small.”

           Dudley wasn’t quite sure what to say next.

           “Would it be okay if we had a visit?” Harry asked. “I’ve rather gotten out of the habit of using a phone.”

           “Sure. I still have some time off, I could come down…do you live in London?”

           “Yes, but I can come up. It’s free for me to travel, right?”

           Dudley lowered his voice. “You mean the…the Disapparating thing?”

           “Yes, exactly. When are you free?”

           “I can take Iris to the park tomorrow afternoon. We could meet there.”

           And with some directions and a final, awkward goodbye, Dudley ended the first conversation with his cousin in eleven years.

           He showed up a couple of minutes late the next day, pushing Iris in her pram. Harry was sitting on a bench. He was wearing a Tshirt and jeans, ones that actually fit him, and he had a few lines around his eyes but nothing major. Dudley couldn’t think what the major difference was, until he realized that Harry looked happy. He’d never seen his cousin look that way.

           They shook hands and Dudley joined him on the bench, lifting Iris out of her pram. Harry cooed at the baby. “She’s even more lovely in person.”

           “What do your family look like?”

           “That’s right, you’ve never met Ginny. I forgot.” Harry pulled a picture from his pocket of a red haired woman with a small redhead boy and a dark haired boy on her lap. Harry sat next to her in the picture, cuddling a baby with masses of red hair. The picture moved, and Dudley watched fascinated as the little family played together.

           “They’re beautiful, Harry,” he muttered.

           “I know they are.” Harry smiled at his family before he put the picture away. “So…food critic? What’s that like?”

           “It’s nice. Better when the food isn’t terrible, but in some ways that makes the writing more fun.”    

           Harry laughed. “I know. I went and dug up the rest of the columns once I realized it was you and your partner. You write well.”

           “Leo taught me. Apparently I actually have a condition that makes it hard to write.”

           “That’s terrible.”

           “Should have caught it ages ago.” People would have, if his dad’s money and mum’s voice hadn’t kept forcing the teachers to move him along, if they hadn’t insisted nothing was wrong with him…

           “They fucked us up, didn’t they?”

           Harry’s bluntness startled Dudley into honesty. “Yes, they did. I love them, though. They thought they were doing what’s best.”

           “No,” Harry corrected him gently. “They knew what they were doing what’s best. They wouldn’t listen to anyone, because you were theirs, and they knew best.”

           Dudley couldn’t bring himself to defend his parents to the cousin who’d lived under his stairs, who’d worn his castoffs. “I had their love, at least. I think you had it worse.”

           “I don’t think so,” Harry said. “Looking back now, I really don’t. But that’s coming from my end.”

           Dudley just nodded. He stood up. “I can’t stay long,” he blurted, and really, he couldn’t. “Leo and I need to work on a quick column. But if you want, we could walk back together, it’s not far.”

           Harry smiled. “I’d like that.”

           And so began an awkward relationship. Dudley never quite lost his suspicion of wizards and magic, and the looks he got from some of Harry’s family made him suspect he was right to be cautious. Besides, he and his cousin had built separate lives, and with everything in their past it was probably for the best that they kept it that way.

           But every Christmas Harry sent cards of cash for him and Leo and toys for Iris, and Dudley sent the same. They kept in touch on the phone once a month, and finally grew comfortable when those calls ended in silence as they tried to bridge a gap that twenty-eight years had dug.

           That gap had a helping hand once Iris had grown up brilliant and Muggle, and met Lucy Weasley at university.

Note: This has been edited after some comments about Dudley speculating about being poly or pan. I realize now that I edited out a line that implied him having previous attraction to women, which would prompt that speculation. That's been fixed now, and I apologize for the confusion. If Dudley was attracted to men only, he would be gay and still attracted to Leo. Trans men are men.

[theboywiththepinkfloralpurse]

134 questions

1: Name - Joel 2: Age - 18 (19 in June) 3: 3 Fears - being alone, not making anything of myself, and bugs lol 4: 3 things I love - My Sweet and Wonderful Boyfriend, music and making music, chocolate 5: 4 turns on - the back of my neck, it's really sensitive… when the other person takes control… that's all you get for now ;) 6: 4 turns off - biting, roughness lol, uncomfortable positions, boobs (lol) 7: My best friend - Sterling 8: Sexual orientation - Gay (duh XD) 9: My best first date - pizza place with my current boyfriend 10: How tall am I - 5’6” 11: What do I miss - my boyfriend. And music camp tbh 12: What time was I born - not sure… the afternoon maybe? 13: Favorite color - Teal 14: Do I have a crush - very much so 15: Favorite quote - not my favorite but I love it cuz it's hilarious “...the people that put the chemicals in the water that turned the friggin frogs gay!” - Alex Jones 16: Favorite place - Sterling's house (and now anywhere with my boyfriend :) 17: Favorite food - Mac n’ cheese. Also chicken 18: Do I use sarcasm - nooooooo I neeeeever eeeeeeever use sarcasm (lol) 19: What am I listening to right now - my Mom has some cringey Christian radio station on... 20: First thing I notice in a new person - kindness 21: Shoe size - 10 (12 women's XD) 22: Eye color - blue 23: Hair color - dirty blonde 24: Favorite style of clothing - sweaters with or without buttons, clothes with buttons in general. Fall clothes 25: Ever done a prank call? - once… it was so cringey but he actually fell for it

27: Meaning behind my URL - theboywiththepinkfloralpurse was my first blog where I really needed someplace to make venting emotional posts and I'd just gotten a tacky pink purse with flowers lol. a-random-gay-bunny is pretty self explanatory lol 28: Favorite movie - ahhhhhh I'm so bad at picking favorites for most things…. I do really like V for Vendetta tho. Seen it many times, and the entire X-Men series. 29: Favorite song - too many to pick… 30: Favorite band - except this… I can say for sure it's Pentatonix. I've seen them in concert twice, I love them so much 31: How I feel right now - happy, but I wanna hold my boyfriend and kiss him 32: Someone I love - My boyfriend John 33: My current relationship status - very taken <3 34: My relationship with my parents - much better than a couple years ago, still a little rocky but pretty good 35: Favorite holiday - probably Christmas 36: Tattoos and piercing I have - none 37: Tattoos and piercing I want - I'm not sure, but I would like a tattoo or a few one day 38: The reason I joined Tumblr - to vent my feelings to the void lol 39: Do I and my last ex hate each other? - don't have one 40: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts? - everyday :) <3 41: Have you ever kissed the last person you texted? - this question is weird lol, but John's the last person I texted and the only person I've kissed :) 42: When did I last hold hands? - yesterday 43: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning? - depends, I can get ready really quickly if need be though 44: Have You shaved your legs in the past three days? - nope. Last I shaved was a week ago I think 45: Where am I right now? - at home on my couch 46: If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me? - either Sterling, John or both, but I don't plan on getting drunk ever. I guess it could happen but probably won't be drinking in the future 47: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level? - both, usually slightly loud though 48: Do I live with my Mom and Dad? - yeah… hopefully not for too much longer 49: Am I excited for anything? - seeing my boyfriend on Saturday, and going to camp in 52 days, and hopefully passing my driver's test in 107 days. 50: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to? - sort of? I feel like I can tell Tabby everything 51: How often do I wear a fake smile? - not too often, only in situations where I feel uncomfortable but feel I need to smile. 52: When was the last time I hugged someone? - couple of hours ago 53: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me? - I'd be vereh sad and I'd want to know why. But he wouldn't do that :) 54: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not? - I'm a really trusting person so probably 55: What is something I disliked about today? - I couldn't see my boyfriend and kiss his cute face 56: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? - uhhh… I dunno… maybe Tyler Oakley cuz I bet that would be really fun 57: What do I think about most? - heehee, my boyfriend. And also getting a job and figuring out plans for things, always running through plans in my head. 58: What’s my strangest talent? - I'm not sure, but the fact I can sing so low and so high is a pretty strange talent I guess 59: Do I have any strange phobias? - I'm very afraid of getting water in my eyes 60: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it? - behind it 61: What was the last lie I told? - I told my Mom I understood when she told me that my having a boyfriend is very difficult and awkward for her. I really don't understand 62: Do I prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online? - definitely on the phone, but before my boyfriend I would've said neither 63: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens? - I'd like to believe in aliens, but I dunno. As for ghosts I don't believe in them at all really. 64: Do I believe in magic? - kind of? I think people can and have been able to connect with demons and been controlled by them. I don't think it really happens today much anymore. I think it might tho? 65: Do I believe in luck? - not really, sort of in a cutesy way tho 66: What's the weather like right now? - slightly cloudy, but the sun has mostly set anyway 67: What was the last book I've read? - all the way through? Animal Farm. The last book I opened and read from was a book Sterling gave me. 68: Do I like the smell of gasoline? - Oh god no, do some people like that smell? 69: Do I have any nicknames? Dork, pianoman (from this strange sports camp where everyone had a nickname) 70: What was the worst injury I've ever had? - had a car hood slam on a couple fingers, they didn't break tho surprisingly. Never had a broken bone 71: Do I spend money or save it? - spend… I shouldn't, I need to make money so I can start saving 72: Can I touch my nose with a tongue? - just barely the bottom of my nose 73: Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me? - yes, my old pink purse and probably some other stuff 74: Favorite animal? - besides cats and bunnies, red pandas 75: What was I doing last night at 12 AM? - talking to bae 76: What do I think is Satan’s last name is? - I don't think he has one? Strange question lol 77: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it? - you'll be in my heart by Phil Collins 78: How can you win my heart? - genuinely caring about me :) 79: What would I want to be written on my tombstone? - Here lies the gayest gay to ever gay 80: What is my favorite word? - maybe bitch lol 81: My top 5 blogs on tumblr - a bunch of furry blogs lol 82: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say? - …..hi?... anybody wanna give me free money and help me see my boyfriend more?.... 83: Do I have any relatives in jail? - no. Unless I have distant relatives in jail 84: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power? - teleportation 85: What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on? - not many, but one is “have you cheated on school assignments” 86: What is my current desktop picture? - my cat Loki 87: Had sex? - nope 88: Bought condoms? - nope 89: Gotten pregnant? - NOPE XD 90: Failed a class? - no 91: Kissed a boy? - yee 92: Kissed a girl? - nononono 93: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain? - not yet ;) 94: Had job? - not yet :( 95: Left the house without my wallet? - plenty of times lol 96: Bullied someone on the internet? - maybe? When I was like 13/14 I might've, but not really, I made cringey YouTube comments. 97: Had sex in public? - nope lol 98: Played on a sports team? - nope 99: Smoked weed? - nope 100: Did drugs? - nope 101: Smoked cigarettes? - nope 102: Drank alcohol? - nope 103: Am I a vegetarian/vegan? - nope 104: Been overweight? - nope 105: Been underweight? - ...yeah 106: Been to a wedding? - many… many 107: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight? - HA plenty of times XD 108: Watched TV for 5 hours straight? - probably 109: Been outside my home country? - no 110: Gotten my heart broken? - yeah 111: Been to a professional sports game? - actually yeah… it was boring 112: Broken a bone? - nope 113: Cut myself? - no, I considered once but immediately decided against it because I know someone close to me who did 114: Been to prom? - nope 115: Been in airplane? - a few times 116: Fly by helicopter? - nope 117: What concerts have I been to? - Oh lots, a bunch of em were when I had a scholarship that allowed me to see concerts for free 118: Had a crush on someone of the same sex? - plenty lol, better question would be had a crush on the opposite sex. Which the answer would be… once 119: Learned another language? - sorta? Not fluently no lol 120: Wore make up? - nope, I don't like stuff on my face like face paints and makeup and stuff 121: Lost my virginity before I was 18? - nope 122: Had oral sex? - nope 123: Dyed my hair? - no, but I want to someday. Like a fun color 124: Voted in a presidential election? - yeah 125: Rode in an ambulance? - nope 126: Had a surgery? - nope 127: Met someone famous? - kinda! 128: Stalked someone on a social network? - a few times... 129: Peed outside? - yeah, hasn't everybody at least once? Right? 130: Been fishing? - once… super boring 131: Helped with charity? - not yet, can't afford to yet lol 132: Been rejected by a crush? - once 133: Broken a mirror? - don't think so 134: What do I want for birthday? - always a difficult question. But definitely want to see my boyfriend :)

[goonlalagoon]

Lessons in Falling || Leagues and Legends

Currently on a binge of writing fanfic for @ink-splotch‘s Leagues and Legends series, and decided to dust off something I wrote back in November but didn’t get around to posting...so here’s the Red/Leaf Modern Martial Arts!AU absolutely nobody asked for and I wrote anyway in a combination of NaNoWriMo “whatever it never needs to see the light of day” and grading stress...no real spoilers for Beanstalk or Echoes, and definitely none for RtD. A few lines are directly quoted from Beanstalk.

(Read on Ao3)

“Falling’s the bravest thing I’ve ever heard of.” - Liam Jones

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

White (grey)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“The first thing to learn in any combat,” Red says calmly at the first session, “is how to take a fall.” He smiles at them, a little sharp. “So, are you ready to learn to fall?” Leaf nods in puzzled agreement, and doesn’t think I already have. In the future he will - corny jokes and self-deprecating rolled eyes, remembering the way his heart had maybe skipped a little bit of a beat when the other boy had handed him a flier with a passing glance at his fading black eye.

But for now, he nods in puzzled agreement and tries to focus on what the red-belt is saying. He hadn’t managed to catch the boy’s name when the instructor rattled off a list of names and assigned someone to taking care of Leaf and Jack for their first session, so just mentally labelled the boy as Red, because of his belt colour.

Jack had insisted on coming along to at least the first session, an unspoken agreement that this could just be some elaborate trap, and Leaf is glad for the company. They’d been in and out of fights throughout the previous term, dealing with bullies and the kind of people who thought ‘I was drunk’ meant they could throw a punch at anyone who annoyed them, rather than ‘hey, maybe I should stop after three pints and not break someone’s nose for breathing too loud’. They’d also gotten into a few over hissed slurs and supposedly funny stereotypes, sharing resigned glances at Halloween and putting up with far too many ‘Juan’ jokes. It wasn’t entirely unthinkable that someone was trying to lure Leaf into a situation where he’d be without Jack to lend a hand, even if it seemed like an over the top ploy. The fact that they’d only managed to find any information about this particular martial art after hours of Googling hadn’t boded well, but they but they both had reasonable confidence in Jack’s ability to bodily throw someone across a room by this point.

Red falls forwards as though pushed by a ghost, tucking into a roll that makes him a blur of brown skin and red and white cloth, winding up on his feet with barely a whisper. Leaf feels his eyebrows shoot up, impressed. Red looks at them calmly. “See? A good fall saves you from getting injured and puts you back on your feet.”

Jack smiles, small and sharp, and falls - much more dramatically, but with the same careless ease he brings to everything except the one riding lesson he’d tried at Leaf’s insistence. Leaf swallows hard, and trades glances with the scrawny kid with a belt that had at one point been white who had trailed across the room after Red. The kid pulls a face. “I hate it when they’re a natural.” Leaf privately agrees. “I’m Grey. Better get this over with.” The boy drops into a much more ungainly roll, stumbling as he stands up and shrugging absently as though he really doesn’t care. He tugs his belt back around into place with a huff, and Leaf wonders what happened to the belt to get it quite that far from white.

Leaf crouches, feeling like a fool, and tries to roll with the same fluidity as Jack and Red. His head thumps against the ground, then his spine hits every vertebrae on the way past until he reaches the point when he thinks he should be magically on his feet, and instead lies staring up at the fluorescent light. Jack’s face appears in his field of vision, and he grins tiredly, already feeling that this is going to be a regular theme. “Guess I need to practice falling, huh?” Red nudges Jack out of the way with a hint of a scowl. “You and Grey run through a few more rolls. I’ll take Leaf through step by step - you were supposed to wait for me to take you through it.” Jack looks a little sheepish, while Leaf tries not to feel too foolish at having gotten carried away rather than waiting to be taught. As the other two obediently wander off, Jack chattering away happily, Red inspects Leaf for any sign of injury. “You okay? There’s a trick to it, like everything. C’mon, I’ll show you.” He pulls Leaf to his feet, and if his hand feels a little warmer in Leaf’s than he would have expected - well, they have been exercising, it’s only to be expected.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Green

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Leaf knows he’s got it wrong as soon as his balance tips past the point of no return. He is falling, just as he’s supposed to, but he realises too late that he’s trying to put the wrong shoulder forwards. He grits his teeth, and feels the impact roll flat along his back rather than shoulder to hip, noisy and ungainly. At least his head doesn’t thump against the ground, but that isn’t much consolation. He stumbles to his feet, hoping his blush isn’t noticeable but knowing it will be, and tries to act like he isn’t fazed. He can’t bring himself to glance over to where Red is watching the grading, and the only person he can see is Laney, one of the purple belts who’s partnering someone from a different dojo for their grading, and Laney has an absolutely unreadable poker face.

He tries telling himself it didn’t matter, but it does. Falling is the most important thing to get right. If you can fall without hurting yourself, you can get back to your feet and try again. He knows a grading isn’t the end of the world, that this is just a hobby, but it feels important. He wants to be good at this, and he wants all of Red’s efforts to teach him to mean something. Jack bumps his shoulder gently as they move to put the mats away, knowing him well enough to guess what he’s thinking. “You did fine.” Leaf shoots him a doubtful look, resigned to being told he’s failed. “Seriously, Leaf, for a white belt the roll was fine, and everything else was good.” Leaf grimaces. “You’re a white belt too, and your roll was way out of my league.” Jack grins and shrugs, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “I fell over a lot when I was younger, I’ve had a lot of practice.”

The examiner agrees with Jack, it seems, because the next session Leaf is told he’d passed. Red hands him a slightly faded green belt with a grin. “Here. New ones are ridiculously pricey, and they get dye all over your dogi unless you’re careful. May as well recycle mine, yeah?” Leaf beams, running his fingers over it gently, and ties it in a precise knot. Jack has produced a belt from his bag, declaring a friend had given it to him when they heard he was grading, ‘...thanks anyway Rupe’. It’s even more faded than Red’s, but Jack doesn’t seem to care that it’s tatty at one end.

The post-training trip to the local fish and chip shop feels like more of a celebration than the friendly post-grading drink had. Tucked into a booth between Jack and Red, Leaf thinks perhaps he just feels like there was something to celebrate, rather than just the fact that he’d made it through the grading in one piece, bar a few bruises. He also admits to himself, quietly, that perhaps it’s also because Red doesn’t have to run off home to finish an essay this time, then shies away from the thought.

While Leaf goes to fetch more chips from the counter, someone in the group decides to start up the karaoke machine in the corner. Jack and Red are deep in what is probably a fascinating conversation about the history of martial arts in different countries, but someone shoves the microphone in Leaf’s hands and puts his favourite song on, so he shoves the basket of chips on the table and joins in. Somewhere in the middle of the fourth song, he glances round to find that Jack and Red’s conversation has come to a lull. Jack is investigating the different sauces available, while Red watches in fascinated horror at what he’s prepared to try eating chips with. Leaf laughs and waves a spare microphone at Red. He knows the other boy will refuse, as he has every time anyone has asked him to join the singing, so turns back to the screen to pick up his cue.

He almost drops the microphone when an unfamiliar singing voice joins in, glancing to his side to find Red, looking slightly self-conscious. Leaf grins, and Red shrugs. He has a decent singing voice, low and warm, and Leaf wonders why he always refuses to join in. Three songs later, they’re both starting to sound raspy, so Leaf grabs Red’s wrist and drags him over to the counter to get a drink.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Blue

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ After a few months, Leaf has started to simply assume he will be working with Red. When they pair up for stretching, the other boy is always to his right in the lineup and already turning to him; when senior grades are assigned to coach the lower belts, Red is somehow in charge of whichever group Leaf is in more often than not. Jack is rarely working with him, nowadays. It was clear from the start that Jack knew what he was doing with the basics and the fundamentals, though no one is quite certain how or why. Jack tends to work with Rupert and Laney, learning techniques a belt or two above the green belts’ syllabus and giving blithe answers that don’t really explain anything but sound like they do when asked where he learnt it all.

Some days, Leaf is jealous, just a little. This does not come easily to him, no matter how much he wishes it would. His body doesn’t seem to understand what he’s asking of it, and he knows even his best techniques are formulaic, blocky, and horribly unreliable. On other days, Leaf doesn’t mind in the slightest, because it tends to be just him and Red, and all of Red’s careful attention is on him. Leaf long ago gave up on telling himself the excessive warmth of Red’s hands and the flush in his own cheeks was simply the result of exercise. He feels his heart skip a beat when he gets one of Red’s rare smiles, and hopes it isn’t obvious that he feels like a lovesick puppy.

It was not an easy realisation. Red is calm, collected, and a finalist; Leaf thinks he’s not about to be interested in getting into a relationship with an excitable first year, if he’s interested in a relationship with another boy at all. Leaf feels a little adrift, a little scared, and a little guilty. It’s a physical sport, and he catches himself craving brief contact and stolen moments of attention, and worries about whether acknowledging he likes the way Red’s hand feels when it’s wrapped around his for balance when they do warm up kicks is somehow unfair to the other boy. He hates that he feels jealous when the red belts train together, or when Red looks after Grey and the few new beginners, white belts already less than pristine and turning grubby grey, and someone else gets the approving nod Leaf judges his progress by.

But in the end, he can’t help his own feelings. He just looks forward to training and wishes it was more than three times a week, and reminds himself that Red doesn’t owe him anything, not even his attention.

Still, he is glad when Red and Rupert casually invite him to join their study table in the library over the break, provided he’s quiet and contained. They’ll delight in his exuberance elsewhere, Red explains, but not when they’ve got an essay to finish in under two hours, thank you very much. Rupert is, as always, more polite about it, simply stressing that they take regular coffee breaks to stretch their legs and talk without disrupting the quiet of the library. Leaf jokingly avoids speaking at all the first time he joins them, but it backfires when they proceed to communicate only by note for the next three study sessions. Rupert smiles politely as though there’s nothing at all amiss about writing a note to ask Leaf to pass him a sheet of paper, but Red’s eyes gleam with humour and Leaf is certain that at least one bathroom break is so he can go crack up at the joke.

Eventually Rupert sighs heavily, and whispers “My pen is out of ink. Could you pass me an ink cartridge, please? I keep a stock of them in that cubby hole” and even though it isn’t that funny both Leaf and Red collapse into laughter, and the librarian throws them out. Rupert follows soon after, still sighing, with their bags and books. Leaf knows him well enough by now to know the quirk of his eyebrows means he’s laughing too. He’s just better at keeping a calm face. Red drags them both off to a coffee shop he knows that tends to be quiet and has enough plug sockets.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Purple

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As the ground rushes towards him, Leaf knows he’s falling wrong again. He is weightless, flying, and the ground is coming towards him too fast, and he knows, he knows before he hits the floor, that this is going to be bad. The impact is almost a relief, the moments before stretching into infinity, mere seconds lengthened by dread. He tries to roll, arms bending to take the impact, angling to roll from shoulder to hip as Red has tried and tried and tried to teach him, but he doesn’t manage it. He thinks that he feels each vertebrae hit the hard-packed ground, a new point of pain marking his progress from falling to fallen across his back, and then he stares at the sky, winded.

He can’t breathe. It’s panic-inducing, all the air in his lungs gone and gasping, gasping like a fish out of water, but not being able to fill them again, and his back hurts, but his arm is worse, so much worse, and he can’t breathe. There’s no one to pick him up, either - no Jack to haul him up, no Rupert with friendly concern, no Laney with a hint of impatience and a barely perceptible appraisal, no Red to offer a hand and a quiet correction. There are no concerned faces to peer down, just empty blue sky.

It’s Laney who finds him, somehow. Idly, Leaf wonders how. Later he realises that this part of the path is her favourite walk back from lectures, but when she kneels next to him with a worried frown, phone already halfway to her ear, he’s too deep in shock to think. He thinks she actually looks shaken, but he puts it down to shock when he remembers - no one has ever seen Laney Jones shaken by anything, and he can’t imagine that someone who’s taken a bad fall would throw her.

An hour later, they’re told his wrist is broken from the fall, and he’s got a few new bruises that didn’t come from the dojo. Someone kicked him the ribs at some point, and he vaguely remembers it getting even harder to breathe while he was on the ground, staring at the sky. The impact itself he can’t quite recall. His head is aching, but the doctor orders him not to sleep. Laney pinches him sharply every time his eyes start to drop shut until a nurse declares he’s okay to doze off.

When he wakes up, for a confused moment he thinks he’s in the dojo after all. It seems as though everyone is there. Jack is folded into a chair, brick red hair on end where he’s run frantic fingers through it. Grey is reading a book, but glances over the top at Leaf and gives him a little nod of quiet acknowledgement, then looks back at the page without saying anything to give him time to come around before answering questions. Laney and Rupert are reading the doctor’s notes, while Heather and Gloria exchange furious whispers about what on earth happened.

Red isn’t there, and Leaf feels…betrayed, even though he has no reason to. He is not owed this boy’s attention, or his care.

Jack notices he is awake, and is gabbling out apologies before Leaf can even smile at his friend. Leaf isn’t quite certain what for, until he finally realises that Jack thinks he should have been there. Leaf coughs when he tries to laugh, but eventually manages a weak smile. “Hey, shut up, Farris. Like even you can do anything about my terrible rolls.” Something flickers at the back of Jack’s eyes that Leaf hasn’t seen before, a seriousness he doesn’t associate with his permanently smiling friend. Jack shrugs. “I’d’ve kept you from falling.” It sounds something like a promise, and something entirely else like a plea, so Leaf just grins and says he knows he would. As she’s leaving, Laney thumps Leaf’s leg, something a little sad in her expression. “My brother always said falling was the bravest thing you could do. Don’t let this scare you out of trying again, alright? Only cowards never fall.” There’s a twist to her tone on the last few words that makes Leaf think she’s quoting something, or someone.

She’s gone before he can say the thought hadn’t occurred to him, or to say he’d never realised she has a brother. He doesn’t quite let himself think he’s already fallen as hard as he ever could, with both feet firmly on the ground, but only because he’s still trying a little not to let himself realise quite how far he’s fallen for Red.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Red

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“They didn’t call me.” It’s the first thing Red says when Leaf opens the door, before he’s really registered who was knocking. Red is flustered, dark cheeks darker still with exertion, and he’s actually leaning against the door frame for support. “I had an exam and they didn’t call me.” He’s actually gasping for breath, and Leaf can’t remember seeing him this - this dishevelled, even after a two hour training session. It dawns on him that Red lives on the other side of the city, and apparently ran all the way over to the university dorms.

A knot of something bitter and sad loosens in his chest. Jack peers to see who he’s talking to, then grabs a book off his bedside table and nudges Leaf out of the way. “Excellent, I need to return this to pipsqueak this evening before it gets too late but didn’t want to leave the walking wounded alone. Make sure Leaf eats something, alright, Red?” He’s gone before either of them can protest. Watching his friend stride away, barefoot, Leaf can’t help but feel that just maybe he’s being set up. Red looks at him, anxious. “Haven’t you eaten anything?”

Leaf rolls his eyes, embarrassed. “We got back like twenty minutes ago.” Red nods and glances at his phone, and Leaf stares. “Wait, Jack only texted you when we got - you ran here in twenty minutes? Sit down before you collapse.” Red shuffles inside obediently, looking a little embarrassed. Leaf pointedly extracts a Tupperware of soup from the bag Rupert had passed to Jack, full of healthy food and a few of Leaf’s favourite snacks. Leaf still isn’t quite certain how Rupert knows everyone’s favourite and least favourite foods, but he’s gotten used to being passed his favourite kind of cereal bar on the coach home whenever they go to a training seminar, along with a stern reminder to drink plenty of water and rehydrate. Red watches like a hawk until Leaf has eaten half of the microwaved soup, before relaxing a little. Leaf curls up and nods at the foot of his bed, hoping he doesn’t look as awkward as he feels. “Y’know, that desk chair is super uncomfortable.” Red smiles a little in agreement, and moves to sit on the bed, a precise, careful two feet between them. Leaf concentrates on eating his soup without spilling it on his duvet. More for something to do than because he’s hungry, he reaches into the bag to see what else the blue-belt packed for him.

For a brief, surprised moment he thinks that Rupert may actually have forgotten that Leaf absolutely cannot stand flapjack with raisins in it, before he remembers that it’s Red’s favourite for some twisted reason Leaf will never stop mocking him for. He holds the box out with a grin, and Red flops dramatically back on the bed with his arm over his face, laughing. Leaf thinks it might be the most relaxed he’s ever seen his friend. “Those - the - ugh, why am I friends with these people?” Leaf laughs, a bubble of happiness that everyone seems to have just assumed that Red would…that Red would run across the city to check he was okay. And he had. Leaf tells himself firmly that he’d have done it for any of them, but it’s hard to believe it when Red is either blushing or somehow still flushed from his run.

“Right, I should go, and you should sleep. Don’t - don’t scare us like that again, alright? I thought I was going to have a heart attack when I got Jack’s text.” Leaf smiles wryly. He hadn’t exactly intended to wind up in hospital in the first place. Red grimaces a little, and shuffles his feet as though uncertain what to say next. “Anyway, I’ll drop by again sometime to see how you’re doing. And once you’re back at training, you’re going to learn how to fall.” He doesn’t seem to be thinking when he leans over and presses a kiss to Leaf’s forehead, because he freezes, eyes widening with panic. “Uh - I -” Leaf grins, heart skipping a beat. He feels weightless again, but this time the ground isn’t rushing towards him. This, he thinks, is what a fall feels like when you know you’re going to roll and it isn’t going to hurt, or maybe just when you suspect there’s no landing, no impact, or at least none worth worrying about now. “I already have.” He mutters, shy, and kisses Red before he loses his nerve.

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: The Rebellion of Adrien Agreste, ch. 6

Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Kagami Tsurugi, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Luka Couffaine, Lila Rossi/karma, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth/aneurism, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Kagami Tsurugi, Plagg & Tikki

Characters: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Lila Rossi, Jagged Stone, Plagg, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine, Penny Rolling, Anarka Couffaine, Rose Lavillant, Juleka Couffaine, Kagami Tsurugi, Alya Césaire, Chloé Bourgeois, Wayhem, Nadja Chamack, Nathalie Sancoeur, Sabine Cheng, Tom Dupain, Tikki, Fang, Principal Damocles, Caline Bustier, Ms. Mendeleiev, original minor character, Alec Cataldi, Lila Rossi’s Mother, Sabrina Raincomprix, Roger Raincomprix, Mylène Haprèle, Le Gorille | Adrien Agreste’s Bodyguard, Nino Lahiffe, Nooroo

Tags: Lila Rossi salt, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Teenage Rebellion, Swearing, Bad Parent Gabriel Agreste, Crack Treated Seriously, Lila Rossi’s Lies Are Exposed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Luka Couffaine Needs a Hug, Paparazzi, Parentification, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Needs a Hug, Gabriel Agreste Needs an Aneurism, Uncle Jagged Stone, we’re all queer here, the spirit of punk is sometimes just being allowed to be yourself, Kagami Finds Her Groove, punk rock fashion, Savage Kagami, Marinette protection squad, Good Parent Sabine Cheng, Good Parent Tom Dupain, Protective Kagami Tsurugi, Protective Luka Couffaine, Bisexual Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Pansexual Luka Couffaine, Sharing a Bed, Pet Names, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Instagram, Bullying, Social Media, Anxiety, Makeover, Hugs, will cure your acne, Face Punching, Bad Ass Juleka Couffaine, Rumors, Protective Juleka Couffaine, Protective Adrien Agreste, Lawyers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Holding Hands, accountability, mental health, Jagged Stone’s well-paid pet shark, How to Make the Evening News, Sexy eyeliner for days, one fish two fish Lila is a screwed fish, How to have fun and piss Gabriel off, Fuckery, sweet litigious karma, Alya sugar, lawyer shark doo doo doo doo doo doo, Schadenfreude, Bad Ass Alya Césaire, Gaslighting, abuse denormalization, Jagged likes his lawyers like he likes his pets: toothy af, Blood in the Water, Everything you didn’t know you wanted and some things you did, Gabriel Agreste is shark bait, Denial, Consequences, Principal Damocles salt, caline bustier salt, the impotence of Gabriel Agreste, snarky Nooroo, lies and the lying liars who tell them, Lila’s brain is a narcissistic hellscape, Lila’s mind is built like an Escher piece, Alec Cataldi salt, Adrien Sugar, wholesome salt, Fu Salt, Kwami Shenanigans, Nooroo is a little shit

Summary: The Social Media Coup

Notes: Meant to put this on Tumblr days ago but yay depression.

AO3 link

Chapters 1-2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

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

Adrien was waiting for the dye to set when the girls returned, his hair securely under a shower cap. Apparently the stylist had decided to start by dying his entire head green, and the black would be applied to his roots afterward, with the logic of start with the light color, then apply the dark.

He’d never had his hair dyed, so he had just nodded. Luka hadn’t known if that was typical—apparently his normal hair color was black, and he just bleached and dyed the tips. It was amazing how much he was learning about his friends in just one evening.

The girls were carrying three large parcels, which they unpacked for them to take a look at. Several different styles of jeans—“We can return anything that doesn’t work,” Marinette said—a studded leather jacket, a hoodie that he just loved, and some jewelry.

“Chat Noir studs?” he asked incredulously. “They had those?”

Marinette nodded. “Kagami found them, and you mentioned Chat colors. We kind of changed that a little, but it seemed in keeping.”

Adrien grinned. “Thanks, girls. I really appreciate it.”

Kagami pulled out a large box. “There are also these boots. Marinette asked for my input on the choice, so I hope you find them to your liking.”

He stared after opening it, amazed to find what were basically stomping boots with huge buckles, reaching probably mid-calf.

“My father is going to have a heart attack,” he said after a moment, sounding not at all bothered by this. It was, after all, the point to freak the elder Agreste out. “You really went all-out! How much do I owe Jagged, Penny?”

Jagged was the one who responded. “Just some pics, I think. Hanging out like we’re jamming, yeah?”

That brought a bigger grin to Adrien’s face. If he had pictures, dressed in some of this and with his hair completely dyed, with Jagged Stone, it would be even more amazing. Not only for the sake of having those pictures, but for the reaction.

Luka brought it a bit further. “What about a video of the three of us jamming? Released to social media?”

Jagged and Penny exchanged a look, and she sighed. “Should I get a videographer?”

Marinette shook her head, a grin playing at her lips. “I think phones—we don’t want it to look set up. Just random. But we will need a keyboard for Adrien, and a guitar for Luka. And I know the perfect person to send it to first.”

All eyes turned to her.

“I babysit Nadja Chamack’s daughter, so I have her cell phone number.” Marinette’s voice was filled with glee.

Jagged grinned. “Bring out the big guns on this one.”

Penny nodded. “She may not be able to interview you without parental permission, but the video and news could make the rounds.”

“We’ll ruin my father’s announcement,” Adrien said with a laugh. “Serves him right.”

Kagami glanced at her phone. “We do not have a significant amount of time. Perhaps posting teasers on social media would be an apt way to start?”

“His hair isn’t finished yet,” Luka responded. “That will take perhaps another hour or so…”

Marinette nodded. “We can do other things. Adrien, you need to pick out a pair of jeans, and get dressed. We can get a shot of you and Luka cuddling, but without your heads in the shot. Start with a teaser to rile up social media.”

“We will want to drape the sofa with a sheet in order to hide the location. These sofas have a… distinctive color,” Penny added. “I have no doubt M. Agreste would recognize them, and then we would have difficulty.”

They got to work. Adrien chose a pair of the jeans that had silver decorative zippers randomly placed on the legs, moving to the bathroom to change out of his normal jeans.

As he did, something occurred to him. “Uh, Plagg?”

His kwami was nibbling on a bit of Camembert that had been in his jeans pocket. “Hm?”

“The hair… It’s not going to reveal my identity, right?”

Plagg laughed. “No way. I can change that without breaking a sweat. It’s worth it to see your dad’s face.”

Adrien relaxed—he’d been afraid he’d really screwed up. That was the last thing he wanted; Ladybug would kill him if he revealed his identity so stupidly.

“Anyway, I wouldn’t let you do anything that exposed your identity. But you’ll have to take off the studs before transforming—not sure if I could do much with those.”

When he left the bathroom, one section of the sofa was covered. Marinette eyed him critically before she nodded, muttering about fitting.

“You might need help with these boots,” Luka commented, holding one up.

“Definitely welcome. Do those lace, too?”

Kagami answered. “Yes. The buckles appear to be primarily decorative. Marinette was torn between these and a pair with three buckles and chains above and below. However, that seemed unnecessarily complicated.���

Adrien blanched at the idea. “Yeah, definitely.”

Luka helped him get the boots on, while Marinette snapped a leather bracelet on his right wrist. Kagami slid the green beaded one after that. Once the boots were securely buckled, he started to grab the box with the studs before realizing they wouldn’t show in the picture and could get ruined with the dye.

“Do you want to wear the leather jacket, or the hoodie?” Marinette asked.

While the leather jacket was tempting, Adrien didn’t think it was right for this. “I think the hoodie is more casual, and it’ll look better.”

“I agree,” Kagami said. “It will match with Luka, and add the appearance of being a couple further through the parallel dress.”

Marinette handed it to him, and then she and Luka fiddled with the sleeves so his bracelets would show.

Finally, they were ready, and Adrien and Luka sat on the couch. Not that Adrien knew what to do beyond that.

At Marinette’s urging, they slid closer together. After a few minutes of rearranging, Luka’s leg wound up bent behind Adrien, with him snuggled against the older boy’s opposite shoulder—he was careful that the shower cap didn’t slide up and cover them both with dye. Kagami rearranged one of his legs to be a shadow of Luka’s. It was a bit of an intimate position, but not too much; just enough to imply.

Then they played with arm positions, trying several options before deciding on one of Luka’s arms around him, and the other propped on Adrien’s bent knee.

“Adrien, lace your fingers with Luka’s hand, the one at your waist,” Penny interjected.

Adrien followed her instructions, hoping this looked natural. He was used to modeling, but had never done a shoot like this before—and Luka wasn’t a model, so hopefully it wasn’t making him uncomfortable.

Finally Marinette nodded and smiled. “Now just relax your muscles. Enjoy cuddling with your boyfriend. Both of you.”

“I feel like a mannequin,” Luka muttered, and Adrien couldn’t stop himself from laughing, easing against him helplessly. Luka’s fingers squeezed his slightly before easing, and the older boy pulled him a bit closer.

He barely registered the flashes from the girls’ cell phone cameras as they moved to different angles, catching multiple possibilities, even standing on different parts of the couch or the table.

A knock on the door interrupted them, and they hurried to hide in the kitchenette area. It was the hairdresser and some hotel staff carrying a specialty sink for washing the dye out, the time already come. He took off the hoodie so it wouldn’t stain.

While the stylist washed the dye out and applied the black, the others crowded around the two cell phones to decide the best picture, murmuring amongst themselves. Eventually they had a photo cropped and filtered.

When they showed it to Adrien, he was amazed they were able to get it to look so good with just a quick set-up. It showed his smile and Luka’s, but nothing above that, and the position looked natural. They looked happy, close. Just like it was a candid shot. He loved the way Luka’s painted nails offset his unpainted ones, their rings resting together in their interlaced hands. He wanted to get his nails done, too. Why not go all the way?

Marinette was born to do fashion, clearly, if she could put together a shoot like this in minutes.

One the stylist finished, Adrien used the computer to upload it to Instagram. It took a while to consider what message to include with it, but he settled on, “Someone very special in my life. Been keeping it quiet, but decided to go public finally. ♥”

He quickly shared it to all his official social media.

“Anyone want to bet on how long it takes my father to call?” he joked.

As it turned out, it took barely ten minutes, and Adrien’s phone was blowing up with social media notifications within the first minute. He rejected the call, and all the subsequent ones, and ignored the text messages. Especially the ones from Lila.

“You may want to turn off your phone so he is unable to track you,” Kagami commented.

The cacophony stopped once he followed her advice.

Luka smiled when his own phone pinged. “Juleka figured it out. She wants to know how long we’ve been dating.”

Marinette laughed, pulling out her sketchbook again. “Okay, on to the next phase. Details. How long, how many dates—and probably when you were supposed to be doing other stuff, Adrien, but Kagami and I can cover some of that. Maybe we can say we knew and helped you two spend time together?”

Then she got a wicked grin. “And you need to figure out pet names for each other, maybe?”

Adrien and Luka exchanged a look.

“I’m guessing Magic Fingers is inappropriate?” Luka drawled.

It took a while for them to stop laughing.

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: The Rebellion of Adrien Agreste, ch. 16

Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Kagami Tsurugi, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Luka Couffaine, Lila Rossi/karma, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth/aneurism, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Kagami Tsurugi, Plagg & Tikki

Characters: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Lila Rossi, Jagged Stone, Plagg, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine, Penny Rolling, Anarka Couffaine, Rose Lavillant, Juleka Couffaine, Kagami Tsurugi, Alya Césaire, Chloé Bourgeois, Wayhem, Nadja Chamack, Nathalie Sancoeur, Sabine Cheng, Tom Dupain, Tikki, Fang, Principal Damocles, Caline Bustier, Ms. Mendeleiev, original minor character, Alec Cataldi, Lila Rossi’s Mother, Sabrina Raincomprix, Roger Raincomprix, Mylène Haprèle, Le Gorille | Adrien Agreste’s Bodyguard, Nino Lahiffe, Nooroo

Tags: Lila Rossi salt, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Teenage Rebellion, Swearing, Bad Parent Gabriel Agreste, Crack Treated Seriously, Lila Rossi’s Lies Are Exposed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Luka Couffaine Needs a Hug, Paparazzi, Parentification, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Needs a Hug, Gabriel Agreste Needs an Aneurism, Uncle Jagged Stone, we’re all queer here, the spirit of punk is sometimes just being allowed to be yourself, Kagami Finds Her Groove, punk rock fashion, Savage Kagami, Marinette protection squad, Good Parent Sabine Cheng, Good Parent Tom Dupain, Protective Kagami Tsurugi, Protective Luka Couffaine, Bisexual Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Pansexual Luka Couffaine, Sharing a Bed, Pet Names, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Instagram, Bullying, Social Media, Anxiety, Makeover, Hugs, will cure your acne, Face Punching, Bad Ass Juleka Couffaine, Rumors, Protective Juleka Couffaine, Protective Adrien Agreste, Lawyers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Holding Hands, accountability, mental health, Jagged Stone’s well-paid pet shark, How to Make the Evening News, Sexy eyeliner for days, one fish two fish Lila is a screwed fish, How to have fun and piss Gabriel off, Fuckery, sweet litigious karma, Alya sugar, lawyer shark doo doo doo doo doo doo, Schadenfreude, Bad Ass Alya Césaire, Gaslighting, abuse denormalization, Jagged likes his lawyers like he likes his pets: toothy af, Blood in the Water, Everything you didn’t know you wanted and some things you did, Gabriel Agreste is shark bait, Denial, Consequences, Principal Damocles salt, caline bustier salt, the impotence of Gabriel Agreste, snarky Nooroo, lies and the lying liars who tell them, Lila’s brain is a narcissistic hellscape, Lila’s mind is built like an Escher piece, Alec Cataldi salt, Adrien Sugar, wholesome salt, Fu Salt, Kwami Shenanigans, Nooroo is a little shit

Summary: Kwami Omake

Notes: This is the last chapter already written, and next week is finals week at my institution, so I won’t have time to write more just yet. I’ve been getting in snatches of paragraphs for a different fic (for The Untamed), but I now feel more motivation for this fic. Some crap went down a few months ago and made writing for ML hard for a while. As it turns out, wonderful people creating fanart for it is inspiring af.

AO3 link

Chapters 1-2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15

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

Tikki was almost falling asleep after the excitement of the morning when suddenly Plagg was in Marinette’s bag with her. She only barely managed to stop from letting out a startled cry.

“Plagg!” she hissed, glaring. “If my holder—”

“That’s why we need to go talk somewhere else, Sugarcube.”

Plagg was, at least, keeping his voice down. Small favors.

She scowled. “We’re not tempting Mme. Mendeleiev again. It was bad enough last time!”

He rolled his eyes. “Ugh, fine. We stay in the walls and floors until we find an empty room.”

“You had best hope there isn’t an Akuma Alert while we’re gone.”

It was unlikely, given that Marinette hadn’t had a chance to purify the Akuma Mme. Mendeleiev had captured. She likely wouldn’t even notice Tikki was gone, as Alya was sticking to her like glue, still occasionally crying when her guilt overflowed.

They did have to have a conversation—their holders had managed to get rid of the threat of the liar, but there were other issues to address. Namely the way his holder’s father was likely to react to what was happening as it continued. It wouldn’t do for Chat Noir to be on lockdown, after all.

They were able to make their way to the locker room and into an empty locker without any issue.

“Have you been reading the news?” Plagg asked once they had ascertained they wouldn’t be discovered. “Good ol’ Gabe tried to fire Lila a second time. Forgot he already had, I guess.”

Tikki frowned, not sure whether that was a good development. “So he’s irrational over it?”

Plagg snorted contemptuously. “When’s he not irrational, is more the question. Just more so than usual. My kid deals with way too much shit from that man.”

She was well aware of that, having heard enough through Marinette, who had always wondered how to help—both Adrien and Chat Noir, at that, since she was aware both had awful home lives but had no idea they were the same home life.

In many ways, Gabriel Agreste’s latest act of assholery was a blessing in disguise if it finally made Plagg’s holder snap and actively seek help. The boy was far too passive, and it was nice to see him finally put his foot down.

That it had involved an attempt to force him to date his “muse” the Liar was beyond the pale and more than a little creepy, in Tikki’s eyes. Sure, in some centuries their holders and all their friends would be married with kids by now, but allowing kids to grow more was a civilized move and a boon of modern society.

“If he likes her so much, he can date her,” Plagg commented.

Tikki had to suppress a smile at how in tune he was with her thoughts, truly her other half. “It’s illegal now.”

“Like Gabe cares about illegal,” Plagg scoffed. “The man’s a moral abyss. It’s shocking Adrien is such a good kid given his sire, but I guess it’s a good thing he’s had little involvement in his life beyond donating sperm.”

“Plagg!” Tikki frowned at him; that was taking it a bit far. Or at least she hoped it wasn’t that bad. “I hope you don’t talk like that around your holder.”

“I wish,” he muttered. “But no, the kid still hopes for his dad’s approval. Though from recent events that might’ve waned a bit.”

That was probably as good an opening as she was going to get.

“Recent events that might compromise your holder’s identity. His dad is obviously a loose cannon, and while it’s good the Liar was taken out, we need to counsel our holders to get the rest taken care of and their lives stabilized. Otherwise Hawkmoth could win.”

“Yeah, I know. But no Fu.”

Tikki already knew all the arguments he could bring up there, and she agreed with them. The man had trauma, certainly, but he kept making mistakes based on them that were hurting the kids. She had expected he would mentor them, not hide in his massage parlor and expect them to learn to swim on their own.

“Agreed. He’s prone to panic and bad decisions.”

Plagg looked briefly startled, but grinned. “Ah, always knew I’d create a rebel out of you, Sugarcube.”

She rolled her eyes affectionately. “I trust our judgment better, is all.”

“Been waiting a few millennia to hear you say that!”

He preened, and Tikki fixed him with an unimpressed stare.

“‘Our,’ Plagg. I know better than to trust yours alone. The dinosaurs, Atlantis…”

“Yeah, yeah. Make a few mistakes, everyone reminds you of them forever.”

Thankfully he knew better than to argue or mention her own. She hated reminders of her own failures, particularly the one that had gone beyond its target and through the millennia to the present. Tikki hadn’t expected the creation of abnormal cell growth to take on a life of its own… but maybe that was why she so rarely let herself lose her temper.

Plagg yawned widely, as though putting on a show to distract her, knowing she needed it.

Stinky Sock, always being so observant, making himself likeable.

“They’ll all be at Pigtails’ place tonight. We can plan more after we know their plan, right?”

Tikki hid a smile. “Let me guess. It’s naptime?”

He smiled. “You know me so well.”

She considered for a moment.

“Mind making a pit-stop along the way? I can purify that Akuma so my holder doesn’t have to worry about it.”

“Ooo!” Plagg brightened. “I wonder if that teacher has any of that delicious magic cheese…”

“Ugh, Stinky Sock. You and your cheese!”

Still, she felt the anxiety of the day start to ease at his antics as she led the way to the science room.

As it turned out, there was cheese, and a very pleasant teacher who actually apologized for trying to capture them and wished them luck fighting Hawkmoth. She even had a cookie for Tikki.

Life was good.