#If Mr. Whiskers Dreams About You It Means Something Big Is Going To Happen (Mr. Whiskers)

[all-my-friends-were-glorious]

DYLAN ALAN PARKS - TEMP BIO

The Kawaii Goth

“Only the united beat of sex and heart together can create ecstasy.” ― Anaïs Nin

GENERAL INFORMATION

Name: Dylan Alan Parks

Nicknames: Dyl, Kitten, Daemon, Princess

Faceclaim: Cazion Fhey

Age: 21

Gender: Genderflux Male (Agender-Male)

Pronouns: He/Him, They/Them, Demon/Demonself, Legion/Legionself, Kitten/Kittenself

Sexuality: Homosexual Homoromantic Polygamous

Height: 5′8.5″

Weight: 126lbs

Birthday: November 24th

Sign: Sagittarius

Occupation: Receptionist at Unplanned Parenthood; Prostitute/Camboy

Bento Box “Benny”

Benny is a sweet, lovely cat, but he’s not very bright. He didn’t know there was plastic on the window all winter one year, and has run into walls while having the zoomies. He’s a special needs boy, but Dylan loves him a lot. They cuddle often.

Mr. Whiskers

Mr. Whiskers is a very strange cat, and he is named for the cat from Frankenweenie. He has made the joke that his poops tell the future. Dylan adores his weird cat so much, and takes lots of photos of him. He has his own Instagram that he shares with Bento Box.

QUICK FACTS

He goes by Demon/Demonself and Legion/Legionself due to conservatives believing that people that use they/them pronouns are possessed by demons. Hence, Legion.

Just to bother people, he eats food wrong. Bites the cheese stick instead of peeling it, doesn’t break the Kit-Kats off, just bites the summer sausage meant to be cut up with cheese and put on crackers, etc.

One of his favorite foods is grilled PB&J. He loves it the most when Harker makes them because then his hands don’t get dirty and he gets extra peanut butter. He also only uses crunchy peanut butter, or honey peanut butter.

Just about every week he has a new hair color. He has an extensive hair care routine. He also can’t remember what his natural hair color was.

Sometimes he does ecstasy, and buys mostly from Kevin or Tweek. When in high school, it was spread around that he took it and came twice trying to put on his shoes. He’s proud of this.

He’s incredibly easy and likes to bare his body to others. He has a long tongue and will show it off whenever he can. He always makes people pay, however, for anything too explicit.

He has an OnlyFans, a JustForFans, and a Twitter that he posts promotions on.

He can eat whatever he wants and never gains weight. He uses this opportunity to eat garbage because he doesn’t like to cook. He’ll eat healthy things when Harker cooks for him, though.

He has a serious love for flat-faced cats. Bento Box is  mentally disabled, and Mr. Whiskers is a weird cat. He is named for the cat from Frankenweenie.

Has an addiction to buying contacts and wearing them. Also loves to be pierced and has a ton of them. He wants a tattoo someday but doesn’t know what to get.

He blows bubbles and slurps loudly from straws, will treat any vaguely phalic food like it needs to be blown, and does other obnoxious things because he can. He aims to be as annoying as possible because everyone thinks the emos are just that.

He flirts constantly with any man he comes into contact with.

He has bedded Michael several times and finds him to be fun to mess with. He enjoys teasing him.

Is Pete’s cousin, though Pete refuses to acknowledge that.

Headcanon Masterlist

TAGS LIST

I Can’t Pay My Rent But I’m Fucking Gorgeous (Dylan Parks)

I Don't Really Care Middle Fingers In The Air Like Lalalala (Dylan Aesthetic)

Take It Home Take It Home 'Cause I Can't Take Anymore (Dylan Musings)

But He Knows No Cash Flow Princess Ain't Gettin' No New Clothes (Dylan Closet)

Tell Me Something I Don’t Know You Can’t ‘Cause You Don’t (Dylan Headcanons)

This Is Not A Game We Play This Is Reality (Dylan Journal Entries)

He Isn’t Very Good He Isn’t Very Smart (Bento Box)

If Mr. Whiskers Dreams About You It Means Something Big Is Going To Happen (Mr. Whiskers)

VERSES

TBD

MAINS AND SHIPS

MAINS

@butyoudidntbreakme​ - Mole - Shut Your Mouth Boy The Angels Are Listening (Dylan and Mole - Butyoudidntbreakme)

@nxwkid​ -  - Douchebag/New Kid/Alex - Everybody Says Uh-Oh Let’s Go Here Comes Trouble (Dylan and Alex - NxwKid)

@southxparkxafterxdark​ - Michael - Let's Make A Fast Plan Watch It Burn To The Ground (Dylan and Michael - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@southxparkxafterxdark​ - Henrietta - You Been Knocking At The Door How Long You Been Waiting? (Dylan and Henrietta - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@southxparkxafterxdark​ - Mike - I Never Thought I Would Wake Up In bed Watching The World Coming Down On My Head (Dylan and Mike - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@southxparkxafterxdark​ - Mia - Leaves You Bleeding (Dylan and Mia - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@southxparkxafterxdark​ - Vic - My Eyes Are Glazed In Horror (Dylan and Vic - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@southxparkxafterxdark​ - Annie - I Feel It Tearing From The Inside Out (Dylan and Annie - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@southxparkxafterxdark​ - Daniella -  All The Pretty Corpses They Will Sing To You In Praise (Dylan and Daniella - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@southxparkxafterxdark​ - Hal - Destroy Me Just For Fun (Dylan and Hal - SouthxParkxAfterxDark)

@throughxthexmist​ - Sarah - The Flames Caress Your Skin We’ll Die So Slowly (Dylan and Sarah - ThroughxThexMist)

@throughxthexmist​ - Ella  - I Cross My Fingers Hope The Wicked Children Go Away  (Dylan and Ella - ThroughxThexMist) @throughxthexmist​ -  Ryan - Doing It To Death (Dylan and Ryan - ThroughxThexMist)

@throughxthexmist​ - Count Ravyncrowe - Will You For Pleasure Give Up Your Treasure? (Dylan and Ravyncrowe - ThroughxThexMist)

@throughxthexmist​ - Vladimir - You Can’t Resist Because It’s So Easy (Dylan and Vladimir - ThroughxThexMist)

@throughxthexmist​ - Stan - I’ve Seen This Room And I’ve Walked This Floor (Dylan and Stan - ThroughxThexMist)

@throughxthexmist​ - Craig - You Come Out Just Like Leather (Dylan and Craig - ThroughxThexMist)

@throughxthexmist​ - Kenny - I Met A Girl She Was A Frog Princess (Dylan and Kenny - ThroughxThexMist)

Here - Pete - A Twisted Vision Of A Horror (Dylan and Pete)

SHIPS

TBD

[captainmeowvelwrites]

You Times Two (Ch.6)

Pairing: Marinette/Ladybug | Adrien/Chat Noir Words: 4502 Summary: Ladybug knew this was necessary. She was the Guardian. He had the Cat Miraculous. But when his suit evaporated in a glow of pale green, she sure hadn’t expected him to have something far more precious: her heart. Cross-posted: AO3 and FFN

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | ...

Recap: Previously, on You Times Two… Our infuriating bean's gone and done it now. He asked Kagami out. And our favourite superheroine, bless her heart, decided pursuing Luka isn't such a selfish idea, despite Mr Whisker's recent unveiling as Mr Hotstuff. But of course, the calm waves of clarity lasted for all of two seconds, when light-hearted Ladynoir dove down to ow-my-heart Ladrien. Our boy hasn't gotten his lady. And our bug's still without her kitty. But at least they had cake, and that's what truly matters. What will Sunshine Boy do with his lady's kind words? And how will our silly bug fare after that little moment they shared? Read on, my fellow Miraculers, and purrhaps you'll find out.

 ---

Chapter Six

Adrien dove onto his bed, the springs squeaking beneath his weight. He felt five degrees warmer, like his joy was some tangible thing, its warmth spreading through his veins, right to his fingertips.

He whirled onto his back and gazed at the high ceiling, all too aware of the grin that filled his face. He'd bet all nine of his lives it'd been there for most of patrol, given the way his cheeks ached.

And boy, did he welcome the sensation.

It meant he wasn't dreaming.

Hadn't been dreaming.

Not when she'd cracked those purrfect puns.

Not when she'd said all those wonderful things.

Not when she'd accepted him, all of him.

If somehow he was dreaming, then clichés be damned, he never wanted to wake up.

Adrien drummed his fingers against the silk sheets of his bed. As terrible as it sounded, he almost hoped for an akuma, for a way to unleash all this energy, for a chance to see her again.

For a chance to be seen again.

Not as Adrien Agreste, the well-mannered model.

Not as Chat Noir, the boisterous superhero.

Just as him.

Loud chomps echoed off the marble tiles of his bathroom, where Plagg, of course, had taken up residence in a basket of dirty laundry.

"You're such a pig, Plagg," he called, rolling his eyes. "Are we not even gonna talk about what happened tonight?" Because, geez, he needed to get this out of his system.

Plagg's tiny head popped out from a sea of clothes. "You wanna talk about tonight? You mean"—mirth coated his every word—"how you're keeping your options open, Mr Heartbreaker?"

Adrien lurched upright on his bed. "I – What?" His hands twisted around his sheets. "No way, Plagg." His voice sounded drier than two-week-old toast. "I'm… I have a date with Kagami tomorrow. I've ordered roses, booked a nice rooftop – way harder than you'd think, by the way. It's all planned out!"

Plagg drifted over, half a wheel of Camembert clasped between his paws. "Oh please," he groaned, plonking his tiny butt on the mattress. "You just spent ten minutes smiling at the ceiling."

Adrien tensed, guilt writhing in his chest. "I – I wasn't—"

"This ain't my first rodeo, kid." He downed the rest of his cheese, and garbled, "I know a lovestruck kitty when I see one."

Adrien twisted his arms across his chest, a line forming between his brows. He was well aware that, just as there'd been other Ladybugs, there'd been other Chat Noirs. He didn't know much more than that, his main source of information being the Ladyblog. Plagg had never been the sentimental sort, after all.

Still, Plagg's words clung to his mind. Was he referring to a previous time he'd pined over Ladybug? Or perhaps a former black cat?

Adrien looked at his kwami, who'd since retrieved another wheel of Camembert from his minifridge. "Plagg, is this normal?"

Plagg looked up from his spot on the bed. "Huh?" He bit a big chunk of cheese off the wheel. "Whataya talking about?"

Adrien chewed the inside of his cheek. "Is it normal for Ladybug and Cat Miraculous Holders to… have… love dramas, I guess?"

Plagg shrugged. "Ehh. It happens." He stretched across the bed, not unlike an actual cat, and dragged out a yawn. "It's not that surprising, really. Yin and yang. Opposites attract. That kinda stuff."

Adrien's eyes sunk to his sheets, and he absently smoothed any creases in sight.

Yin and yang…

When it came to relationships, Adrien had no basis for comparison. Still, he was familiar with the concept. If he wasn't, his Chinese tutor – a middle-aged man with a rather impressive moustache – would probably berate him to no end. The man often threw tidbits of Chinese history and culture into their one-on-one lessons.

Adrien gripped his chin, eyes drifting to the ceiling.

Come to think of it, Master Fu had mentioned the concept too, when he'd visited that Syren akuma.

"Tell me, Adrien"—a smile slid across the Guardian's thin lips—"are you familiar with yin and yang?"

Adrien gazed at the container in his palms, filled with a rainbow of assorted cheeses. "I, uhh… Of course, Master." He looked up from the box, meeting Master Fu's gaze. "But… why do you ask?"

Master Fu reached for Adrien's hand, and grazed a wrinkled thumb across the surface of his ring. "One cannot exist without the other." His tone, like his face, turned solemn. "Always remember that."

One cannot exist without the other…

Was that to say he and Ladybug were like yin and yang?

Push and pull?

Two halves of a whole?

He supposed that wasn't exactly inaccurate.

Ladybug creates, she takes the lead, and she's almost always careful.

Chat Noir destroys, he follows, and at times, he's reckless.

And of course, the comparisons flowed deeper still.

Adrien threw his legs over the side of the bed, elbows propped on his knees. "Opposites attract," he breathed to himself.

Plagg peered up from the cheese in his lap. "What was that?" he managed through a generous mouthful.

Adrien shook his head. "Never mind." His shoulders slumped.

Ladybug didn't share his feelings. If opposites really did attract, shouldn't that be the case?

He frowned, taunted by words his kwami had uttered just minutes ago. As much as he hated to admit it, Plagg was right. He was still gushing over Ladybug—but what was the point?

Yes, she was undoubtedly amazing.

Yes, she was one of his dearest friends.

Yes, she'd said all those lovely things to him.

But none of that changed the way she felt about him, nor how she felt about that unnamed boy.

And it didn't change the fact he had a date with Kagami tomorrow.

Adrien pursed his lips. With thoughts like these running rampant in his mind, was it really so wise to be pursuing Kagami?

He hoisted himself off the bed, a strained sigh escaping his lips. "Plagg?"

"What's up, kid?" the kwami called, still lazing on the bed.

Adrien's hands curled into fists as he marched toward his open window. "I just – I need to think, that's all."

Plagg groaned, sagging into the mattress. "Don't tell me we're going out again?"

"You and I both know I think a lot better out there than I do in here." He held up his hand, his ring gleaming in the overhead lights. "Plagg, claws out!" In a flash of pale green, leather slid up Adrien's body—and instantly, he felt lighter, freer, himself.

His tail billowed behind him as he leaped into the window frame, and scanned the shimmering cityscape. A waxing moon hung above, its milky glow dimmed by the shadows of wandering clouds. And past the high, brick wall ahead, steel lampposts illuminated a quiet street, no spectators in sight.

With no destination in mind, Chat Noir vaulted off his window and into the Parisian night.

---

The drone of late-night traffic coated the cool, evening air, as Marinette spritzed her potted plants and hummed a merry tune. She'd been grinning like a goof since downing cake with her kitty. And boy, had it been nice – wonderful, in fact – to just chill out, crack puns, and discuss mundane things.

His favourite meal was sausages with mashed potatoes, something his mother had often cooked before personal chefs came into the picture.

His favourite video game, to her surprise, wasn't Ultimate Mecha Strike III, but Mario Kart 8 Deluxe. And he'd claimed Rainbow Roads was his favourite track, to which she'd of course questioned his sanity.

As for his favourite subject, that spot went to Physics. He'd even considered making a career out of it (when she'd asked about his modelling, he'd merely said that wasn't where his passions lay).

He'd described his favourite colour as bluebell, specifically. And in the moments that followed, as Chat Noir had gazed into her eyes, her heart had transformed into a dancing candlewick, melting beneath the warmth of that… utterly breath-taking smile.

With a wistful sigh, Marinette crossed her arms atop her balcony railing, spray bottle still clutched between her fingers. Fortunately, he'd left her to ask most of the questions. Her identity was still a secret and tonight, he'd seemed more or less okay with that.

She knew that wouldn't last. Her kitty was stubborn, something she was painfully aware of, and it was only a matter of time until talk of her identity resurfaced. After all, Chat had made a fair point. What if something happened to her?

At that, memories of a fragmented moon flashed through her mind. What if she revealed her identity and something happened to him?

And what of Kagami? Adrien was clearly pursuing a relationship with her. Would unveiling herself as Ladybug come between that? Kagami was her friend, and as much as Marinette cared for Adrien, derailing what he had with Kagami wasn't really what she wanted.

No, she just wanted harmony.

And for Adrien to be happy.

Even if it wasn't with her.

Marinette heaved a sigh, slumping a little against the railing. Right now, she felt like the walking definition of "indecisive". With so many unknowns, how could she possibly make the right choice? What if she failed again and—

"Hello," came a hesitant murmur.

With a squeak, Marinette leaped back at record speed, juggling the spray bottle as though entangled in a game of hot potato. Once she had a steady grip on its handle, she lurched the plastic head toward the owner of that voice, finger on the trigger.

Green cat-eyes stared back at her, a flinch twisting the face of their owner.

She lowered her weapon, tension leaving her shoulders. "Chat Noir?"

He was perched on all fours atop a copper chimney cap. "Sorry, Marinette." He dropped to the balcony railing, just an arm's length away. "I didn't—"

"—mean to frighten me?" She offered a smile, one he returned in kind. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were doing this on purpose."

He chuckled. "This cat's not one for preying on mice. Promise." The slightest smirk he wore had her anticipating one of his infamous jests. "Speaking of which, that was quite the high-pitched squeak you did there." His smirk widened. "Purrhaps I should call you Marimouse��from now on?"

She rolled her eyes. "It was one freak-out." Granted, her kitty had borne witness to a great many of her freak-outs… but he didn't know she knew that.

He snickered. "Well, I was also inspired by how you're Multimouse."

"Was Multimouse."

A faint chuckle was the only answer Chat gave her. With perfect poise, he seated himself atop the balcony railing, one leg drawn to his chest, the other dangling over the edge. He seemed to be getting comfortable. Did he plan to stay a while?

Marinette's mind drifted months into the past, and her smile grew. To think, it had been Adrien who'd dropped by her balcony that night. Adrien who'd gone out of his way to cheer her up. Adrien who'd confided in her about his love troubles.

That fact was ironic and sweet in equal measure.

Or maybe one part ironic, two parts sweet?

One part ironic, three parts sweet?

Or—

No, if she didn't stop now, she probably never would.

Marinette pressed her lips together, if only to bite back a laugh.

"So," Chat started, "it's a little late to be watering plants, isn't it?"

She didn't miss the slight, playful lilt in his voice. In fact, it had her lips quirking up at the corners. She set the bottle down on a weather-worn table and gripped her hips. "It's a little late to be scaring the pants off of unsuspecting girls, isn't it?"

He gave her a once-over, then flashed a smirk. "Speaking of which, nice pyjamas."

Marinette tensed, stealing a glance at her sleepwear. Of course, she'd reached for the dark blue ones with silhouettes of yellow cats. She jutted her nose into the air. "Just so you know, I got these before you came along."

"So, you like cats, huh?" His smirk stretched with his next words, "Cat say I blame you." He winked.

She groaned despite the grin that had slapped itself on her face. "What're you even doing here, Chat Noir?" With folded arms, she leaned against the railing and looked up at him. "Don't you have, like, more important things to do?"

Chat shrugged. "Nah. Not really." He stared skyward, any amusement now gone from his face. "I had some stuff on my mind and…" His eyes sunk to his leather-clad lap, a sigh sliding through his lips. "Let's just say, this cat hates being locked up with his thoughts."

Thoughts?

What thoughts?

Had Ladybug not reassured him as much as she'd believed?

Such questions lingered near the fringes of her mind, but prying answers out of him wasn't her place. Or rather, it wasn't Marinette's place.

"So," she drawled instead, "is this becoming, like… a regular thing? Late night visits to my balcony?"

Chat straightened where he sat. "Sorry." He reached for his staff, tucked above his tail. "I – I can—"

"No!" Marinette gripped his wrist before he could draw his staff, and he blinked down at her. "I didn't mean it like that. Really."

His eyes left hers, trailing the length of her arm to fall on her hand, still around his wrist.

Suddenly, she was all too aware of the wild hammering in her chest. Clearing her throat, she pulled that hand to her side, heat prickling her ears. "You're always welcome here, Chat Noir."

Chat smiled, resettling in his makeshift seat atop the railing. "Thanks, Marinette." He gazed at her, a familiar softness in his smile; one that slowly made its way to his eyes. "You're pretty great, y'know that?"

Marinette stared into those eyes—green, green, green—as vibrant as early spring. "So you are," she breathed, then shot ramrod straight. "I – I mean, so are you. I mean, it's – uh – the least I can do for – um – one of Paris' superheroes." She giggled, as strained as it was, and he gave a little chuckle in turn.

As a soothing silence washed over them, Marinette was reminded of the quiet, comforting lulls that often took place on their patrols, and her lips quirked up of their own accord. She glanced at her partner to find his sight set on some unseen thing. Whatever he was watching, the distance in his eyes showed he wasn't truly seeing it. Did being here, on her balcony, somehow help him to think?

She supposed that made sense. Being up here certainly helped whenever she had something on her mind.

"So," Marinette drawled, "did you, uhh… wanna talk about what's bothering you?"

He continued to stare into the distance. "It's… kinda complicated."

"Oh. Um – Fair enough." She managed a smile. "It's your private business and that's totally fine."

"No, it's not like that." He looked at her, his fingers laced around the steel fencing on which he sat. "It's just… kinda hard to explain, is all."

"Well, I've got time if you wanna give it a try." His eyes dropped, and hers followed the path they took. Only then did she realise her hand was atop his own, as though her inner-Ladybug had taken over, hoping to comfort her partner. She pulled it to her chest, red flushing her cheeks. "That is, uhh – maybe everything will make a little more sense – you know – if you put it into words?" She cleared her throat. "I mean, doing that helps me sometimes."

Chat bit his lower lip, something she shouldn’t have found so darn adorable during their current conversation. "I just… I guess, uhh…" He looked away, shrinking into his shoulders. "After what happened with Weredad, I… don't wanna make you uncomfortable with my"—he mumbled his next words—"love problems."

Marinette stilled. "Wait," she blurted out, "you're upset about love stuff?"

But wasn't he pursuing Kagami?

Oh no. Had her advice failed?

Wouldn't be the first time…

Or the second…

Or the—

"Sorry." He stooped his head low, his blond bangs skimming his mask. "Love stuff's probably all I ever seem to talk about, huh?"

"No, it's fine," she insisted, with a frantic wave of her hands. "Really. I mean, love is, umm… complicated like that."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

Marinette caught herself reaching for his hand again; the moment she realised, she reached for one of her pigtails instead. "And, umm – forget about Weredad. I'm totally past that. Promise." She re-propped her arms atop the railing, if only to stop herself from reaching for him again. "If you wanna talk, I'm all ears!"

Chat pursed his lips, his eyes travelling across the darkened sky, where stars glittered like soft flicks from a paintbrush. "Well, you see"—he spared a glance her way—"I'm kinda seeing this girl. She's smart, brave, really pretty. Strong-minded too." The makings of a smirk tugged at his lips. "Actually, she's a lot like Ladybug." He huffed with amusement. "Is that bad?" A rhetorical question, it seemed, as he gave her no time to even dwell on it. "We're not official yet, but she thinks we are and… well…" That tiny smirk vanished. Instead, his shoulders sagged in time with his tail.

Marinette's brows gathered. After more than a year of akuma-fighting alongside her kitty, reading his body language was usually kitten's play. Now was no exception. "It almost seems like… you don't want to be official?"

His cat-ears drooped. "I don't know. I mean, I thought I did, but… you know how I feel about Ladybug."

A gasp lodged itself in her throat.

Oh no. This was about this evening, wasn't it?

It had to be.

But God, he'd just been so terribly down on himself and she'd needed to put a stop to it. Confusing him hadn't been her intention. Quite the opposite!

Chat's sigh thrust her from those thoughts. "I know she's in love with someone else. She has every right to be. It's just… hard, y'know?" This time, when he huffed, she got the sense it was from self-frustration more than anything else. "I keep thinking I'm getting over her”—he threw a hand through his mussed locks—"but then I see her at patrol and suddenly, it's like I'm falling for her all over again."

Marinette stared at her partner, a sharp pang in her heart.

She hated how true those same words rang for her; hated how she couldn't just tell him; hated how fiercely she wanted to.

But damn it, she couldn't. Not like this, for personal gain.

Yes, she returned his feelings – understatement of the century – and sure, revealing her identity and announcing her ginormous crush could fix Adrien's entire dilemma—but unveiling herself over something like this? That wasn't a guardian thing to do at all.

No, she'd just be cracking open a heaping silo of worms, and making more mistakes was something she just could not risk!

Once again, Chat continued, completely unaware of the frantic turn her thoughts had taken. "The second I saw Ladybug tonight, everything else just… melted away. It always does." His words were tender, brimming with affection, yet there was this heart-jerking ache about them. "She said such wonderful things to me, about me. I thought I was gonna explode."

Marinette pursed her lips—partly to hide the way they quivered, partly to stifle a strangled cry of – of what, exactly?

Joy?

Guilt?

Frustration?

Or perhaps desperation?

Was this what he'd meant about exploding?

"She—" Chat's voice cracked. "She even told me I was enough. No. More than enough." A ghost of a smile eased across his lips. "I don't think anyone's told me that since…" He chuckled, though it was harrowingly hollow. "Well, it's, uhh... been a long time."

Marinette was sure his grip on the railing had tightened. And was it a trick of the light or was he tearing up? He looked her way and the moment their eyes met, she had her answer. Just when she'd thought he couldn't tug her heartstrings any harder, the shaky smile he revealed proved her horribly wrong.

God, she hated this! All the lies and the secrets. The tiptoeing and half-truths.

It just wasn't fair. None of it.

Not on him.

Not on her.

They were a team.

How could they be their best with something so suffocating in the way?

Tears glossed her vision and suddenly, Chat Noir was no more than a flurry of shapes and colours. She looked away, avoiding his gaze, and smeared tears from her eyes with the back of a trembling hand.

“Oh no…”

Marinette heard faint steps upon wood. He must’ve swept from the railing to his feet.

“Did – Did I do that?" His hands eased onto her bare shoulders, their warmth radiating through her skin despite the leather gloves. "Marinette, I'm so sorry!"

How?

Just… Just how?

How was he so kind and selfless and utterly beautiful?

How could he suffer so silently, yet still find the strength to give others so much of himself?

Had she been transformed, she might've tackled her kitty in a fervid embrace. Her fingers twitched, yearning to pull him close, to comfort him as much as he did her, to give something of herself for once.

Instead, her jaw clamped in place as she fought back a guttural sob, and threw him the most convincing smile she could muster. "No, no," Marinette insisted, rubbing her reddening eyes. "It's not you. I'm just – Uh. The wind's a bit cold, that's all." She pointed up, as though the wind was some tangible thing. "It just – um – made my eyes sting. You know how those pesky breezes can be on your peepers!"

Chat rushed his hands up and down her bare arms. "I'm so sorry, Marinette." He scanned her balcony, as though hoping for a blanket to appear from thin air. "This suit sort of acts like a wind-protector, so I—"

"It's okay, Chat," said Marinette, a smile painting her lips. "I'll just consider this an excuse to have hot chocolate before bed."

He stilled at those words, and that soft smile was back—so Adrien, so Chat Noir, so him. "Well, when you put it like that." His smile spread. "Anyway, I should probably be going." His hands slid from her shoulders, one withdrawing his staff. "That hot chocolate of yours won't brew itself." He winked, and on light feet, took two steps toward the far end of her balcony.

"Chat Noir!"

Marinette grabbed his hand, and he stilled instantly, those green eyes watching her from over one shoulder. She pursed her lips, staring at her bare feet. "Umm… About this love stuff…" Warmth spread up her fingers, and she realised she hadn't released his hand. Her eyes reunited with his, pink grazing her cheeks, and she pulled her hand to her chest. "This – uh – might come as a surprise"—her insides writhed at the agonising truth of her next words—"but believe me, I know just how you feel."

Shock dusted his eyes. "You… You do?"

Marinette nodded, the movement slow and rather stiff. "So there are these two really smart, really kind, really cute guys – both amazing in their own special ways – and, well"—warmth crept across her face—"I really care about both of them, but I guess… deciding between them is like pulling teeth – worse than that, even." Her lips quaked. "It's just hard," she whispered, her brows furrowing. "Really hard."

Chat faced her completely, another smile gracing his full lips. "They're really lucky, you know"—her heart picked up the pace, throbbing madly in her eardrums—"to have a girl as amazing as you caring so much about them."

Had…

Had Adrien just said…

Marinette pinched her wrist, and the fleeting pain that brought with it had her choking back a squeal. "I – Uh —" Her mouth opened and closed as though she'd been born a goldfish. "Tha – Thank you," she eventually stammered, before sucking in a slow breath.

If she didn't keep her cool, she might do something stupid.

Like shatter his eardrums with a squeal.

Or call him Adrien.

Maybe kiss him.

No no no no.

That train of thought needed to stop pronto!

What… were they talking about again?

Remembrance flashed in her eyes. "But, uhh – about those girls." Her fingers drummed against her clothed thighs, the silk material smooth against her skin. "Those girls being – um – Ladybug and – uh – unnamed, mystery girl." She cleared her throat. "I'm sure they both care a lot about you, but at the end of the day, you've gotta do what's right for you." Her smile came easily, something she was immensely grateful for. "So, Chat, I say go for the girl that makes you happy."

He closed the gap between them, and Marinette hoped he wouldn't notice the goosebumps that blanketed her skin. If he did, she was totally blaming the wind again.

Of course, his hands found their way back to her shoulders. "Thank you, Marinette." He gazed into her eyes, and she wondered how a stare could possibly be so soft and intense at once. "You've helped me far more than you'll probably ever know."

Oh, the irony. It only powered the smile that lined her lips. "It was the least I could do," she said, echoing words he'd spoken all those months ago. By the look in his eyes, Chat seemed to understand.

He took two soundless steps back, extending his staff. "All right. I should probably scat before you get hypopurrmia."

Marinette snorted. "I think that second pun might've been pawshing it." She held her thumb and index finger parallel to each other and added, "Just a litter bit."

Chat stuck out his tongue. Like, actually stuck out his tongue. And Marinette wasn't sure if she'd ever seen him do that—in or out of the mask. "Thanks, Marimouse"—he showed a smirk and a two-fingered salute—"for being such a pawsome furend."

Why did she get the feeling he'd made those last two puns just to tease her?

He leaped onto the balcony railing, beaming when he glanced back at her. "Have a great evening, okay?" With a chuckle, he rubbed the nape of his neck. "And enjoy that hot chocolate!"

"Enjoy your evening too," she said with a wave. "And don't be a stranger, okay?"

With a nod and another of his classic, heart-warming smiles, Chat Noir leaped off the railing. The whir of his stick slowly faded, and Marinette watched as that unmistakable silhouette jumped from building to building, the light of nearby lampposts bouncing off his leather suit.

Only once he'd disappeared into the night did Tikki emerge, floating up to her face to nuzzle her cheek. With one finger, Marinette rubbed her kwami's tiny head. "Thanks, Tikki." She stared after her kitty and heaved a lengthy sigh. "What am I gonna do?"

[zhuletta]

A blanket, a tea and a mother's love

[chillustrationyr2-blog]

Introduction to The Weird Girl:

-She is aged around 10-12 -She is a self proclaimed psychic -She has a pet cat called Mr Whiskers who she shares unblinking eyes with Inspirations: -The girl who just stares by Tim Burton -She resembles a child version of Kim Bogg from Edward Scissorhands Quotes: -'If Mr Whiskers dreams about you, it means something big is going to happen.' -'One day you'll dream about me won't you kitty?' -'Mr Whiskers had a dream about you last night.'

[readbookywooks]

A DAY WITH THE BEAVERS

WHILE the two boys were whispering behind, both the girls suddenly cried "Oh!" and stopped. "The robin!" cried Lucy, "the robin. It's flown away." And so it had - right out of sight. "And now what are we to do?" said Edmund, giving Peter a look which was as much as to say "What did I tell you?" "Sh! Look!" said Susan. "What?" said Peter. "There's something moving among the trees over there to the left." They all stared as hard as they could, and no one felt very comfortable. "There it goes again," said Susan presently. "I saw it that time too," said Peter. "It's still there. It's just gone behind that big tree." "What is it?" asked Lucy, trying very hard not to sound nervous. "Whatever it is," said Peter, "it's dodging us. It's something that doesn't want to be seen." "Let's go home," said Susan. And then, though nobody said it out loud, everyone suddenly realized the same fact that Edmund had whispered to Peter at the end of the last chapter. They were lost. "What's it like?" said Lucy. "It's - it's a kind of animal," said Susan; and then, "Look! Look! Quick! There it is." They all saw it this time, a whiskered furry face which had looked out at them from behind a tree. But this time it didn't immediately draw back. Instead, the animal put its paw against its mouth just as humans put their finger on their lips when they are signalling to you to be quiet. Then it disappeared again. The children, all stood holding their breath. A moment later the stranger came out from behind the tree, glanced all round as if it were afraid someone was watching, said "Hush", made signs to them to join it in the thicker bit of wood where it was standing, and then once more disappeared. "I know what it is," said Peter; "it's a beaver. I saw the tail." "It wants us to go to it," said Susan, "and it is warning us not to make a noise." "I know," said Peter. "The question is, are we to go to it or not? What do you think, Lu?" "I think it's a nice beaver," said Lucy. "Yes, but how do we know?" said Edmund. "Shan't we have to risk it?" said Susan. "I mean, it's no good just standing here and I feel I want some dinner." At this moment the Beaver again popped its head out from behind the tree and beckoned earnestly to them. "Come on," said Peter,"let's give it a try. All keep close together. We ought to be a match for one beaver if it turns out to be an enemy." So the children all got close together and walked up to the tree and in behind it, and there, sure enough, they found the Beaver; but it still drew back, saying to them in a hoarse throaty whisper, "Further in, come further in. Right in here. We're not safe in the open!" Only when it had led them into a dark spot where four trees grew so close together that their boughs met and the brown earth and pine needles could be seen underfoot because no snow had been able to fall there, did it begin to talk to them. "Are you the Sons of Adam and the Daughters of Eve?" it said. "We're some of them," said Peter. "S-s-s-sh!" said the Beaver, "not so loud please. We're not safe even here." "Why, who are you afraid of?" said Peter. "There's no one here but ourselves." "There are the trees," said the Beaver. "They're always listening. Most of them are on our side, but there are trees that would betray us to her; you know who I mean," and it nodded its head several times. "If it comes to talking about sides," said Edmund, "how do we know you're a friend?" "Not meaning to be rude, Mr Beaver," added Peter, "but you see, we're strangers." "Quite right, quite right," said the Beaver. "Here is my token." With these words it held up to them a little white object. They all looked at it in surprise, till suddenly Lucy said, "Oh, of course. It's my handkerchief - the one I gave to poor Mr Tumnus." "That's right," said the Beaver. "Poor fellow, he got wind of the arrest before it actually happened and handed this over to me. He said that if anything happened to him I must meet you here and take you on to - " Here the Beaver's voice sank into silence and it gave one or two very mysterious nods. Then signalling to the children to stand as close around it as they possibly could, so that their faces were actually tickled by its whiskers, it added in a low whisper - "They say Aslan is on the move - perhaps has already landed." And now a very curious thing happened. None of the children knew who Aslan was any more than you do; but the moment the Beaver had spoken these words everyone felt quite different. Perhaps it has sometimes happened to you in a dream that someone says something which you don't understand but in the dream it feels as if it had some enormous meaning - either a terrifying one which turns the whole dream into a nightmare or else a lovely meaning too lovely to put into words, which makes the dream so beautiful that you remember it all your life and are always wishing you could get into that dream again. It was like that now. At the name of Aslan each one of the children felt something jump in its inside. Edmund felt a sensation of mysterious horror. Peter felt suddenly brave and adventurous. Susan felt as if some delicious smell or some delightful strain of music had just floated by her. And Lucy got the feeling you have when you wake up in the morning and realize that it is the beginning of the holidays or the beginning of summer. "And what about Mr Tumnus," said Lucy; "where is he?" "S-s-s-sh," said the Beaver, "not here. I must bring you where we can have a real talk and also dinner." No one except Edmund felt any difficulty about trusting the beaver now, and everyone, including Edmund, was very glad to hear the word "dinner". They therefore all hurried along behind their new friend who led them at a surprisingly quick pace, and always in the thickest parts of the forest, for over an hour. Everyone was feeling very tired and very hungry when suddenly the trees began to get thinner in front of them and the ground to fall steeply downhill. A minute later they came out under the open sky (the sun was still shining) and found themselves looking down on a fine sight. They were standing on the edge of a steep, narrow valley at the bottom of which ran - at least it would have been running if it hadn't been frozen - a fairly large river. Just below them a dam had been built across this river, and when they saw it everyone suddenly remembered that of course beavers are always making dams and felt quite sure that Mr Beaver had made this one. They also noticed that he now had a sort of modest expression on his, face - the sort of look people have when you are visiting a garden they've made or reading a story they've written. So it was only common politeness when Susan said, "What a lovely dam!" And Mr Beaver didn't say "Hush" this time but "Merely a trifle! Merely a trifle! And it isn't really finished!" Above the dam there was what ought to have been a deep pool but was now, of course, a level floor of dark green ice. And below the dam, much lower down, was more ice, but instead of being smooth this was all frozen into the foamy and wavy shapes in which the water had been rushing along at the very moment when the frost came. And where the water had been trickling over and spurting through the dam there was now a glittering wall of icicles, as if the side of the dam had been covered all over with flowers and wreaths and festoons of the purest sugar. And out in the middle, and partly on top of the dam was a funny little house shaped rather like an enormous beehive and from a hole in the roof smoke was going up, so that when you saw it {especially if you were hungry) you at once thought of cooking and became hungrier than you were before. That was what the others chiefly noticed, but Edmund noticed something else. A little lower down the river there was another small river which came down another small valley to join it. And looking up that valley, Edmund could see two small hills, and he was almost sure they were the two hills which the White Witch had pointed out to him when he parted from her at the lamp-post that other day. And then between them, he thought, must be her palace, only a mile off or less. And he thought about Turkish Delight and about being a King ("And I wonder how Peter will like that?" he asked himself) and horrible ideas came into his head. "Here we are," said Mr Beaver, "and it looks as if Mrs Beaver is expecting us. I'll lead the way. But be careful and don't slip." The top of the dam was wide enough to walk on, though not (for humans) a very nice place to walk because it was covered with ice, and though the frozen pool was level with it on one side, there was a nasty drop to the lower river on the other. Along this route Mr Beaver led them in single file right out to the middle where they could look a long way up the river and a long way down it. And when they had reached the middle they were at the door of the house. "Here we are, Mrs Beaver," said Mr Beaver, "I've found them. Here are the Sons and Daughters of Adam and Eve' - and they all went in. The first thing Lucy noticed as she went in was a burring sound, and the first thing she saw was a kindlooking old she-beaver sitting in the corner with a thread in her mouth working busily at her sewing machine, and it was from it that the sound came. She stopped her work and got up as soon as the children came in. "So you've come at last!" she said, holding out both her wrinkled old paws. "At last! To think that ever I should live to see this day! The potatoes are on boiling and the kettle's singing and I daresay, Mr Beaver, you'll get us some fish." "That I will," said Mr Beaver, and he went out of the house (Peter went with him), and across the ice of the deep pool to where he had a little hole in the ice which he kept open every day with his hatchet. They took a pail with them. Mr Beaver sat down quietly at the edge of the hole (he didn't seem to mind it being so chilly), looked hard into it, then suddenly shot in his paw, and before you could say Jack Robinson had whisked out a beautiful trout. Then he did it all over again until they had a fine catch of fish. Meanwhile the girls were helping Mrs Beaver to fill the kettle and lay the table and cut the bread and put the plates in the oven to heat and draw a huge jug of beer for Mr Beaver from a barrel which stood in one corner of the house, and to put on the frying-pan and get the dripping hot. Lucy thought the Beavers had a very snug little home though it was not at all like Mr Tumnus's cave. There were no books or pictures, and instead of beds there were bunks, like on board ship, built into the wall. And there were hams and strings of onions hanging from the roof, and against the walls were gum boots and oilskins and hatchets and pairs of shears and spades and trowels and things for carrying mortar in and fishing-rods and fishing-nets and sacks. And the cloth on the table, though very clean, was very rough. Just as the frying-pan was nicely hissing Peter and Mr Beaver came in with the fish which Mr Beaver had already opened with his knife and cleaned out in the open air. You can think how good the new-caught fish smelled while they were frying and how the hungry children longed for them to be done and how very much hungrier still they had become before Mr Beaver said, "Now we're nearly ready." Susan drained the potatoes and then put them all back in the empty pot to dry on the side of the range while Lucy was helping Mrs Beaver to dish up the trout, so that in a very few minutes everyone was drawing up their stools (it was all three-legged stools in the Beavers' house except for Mrs Beaver's own special rockingchair beside the fire) and preparing to enjoy themselves. There was a jug of creamy milk for the children (Mr Beaver stuck to beer) and a great big lump of deep yellow butter in the middle of the table from which everyone took as much as he wanted to go with his potatoes, and all the children thought - and I agree with them - that there's nothing to beat good freshwater fish if you eat it when it has been alive half an hour ago and has come out of the pan half a minute ago. And when they had finished the fish Mrs Beaver brought unexpectedly out of the oven a great and gloriously sticky marmalade roll, steaming hot, and at the same time moved the kettle on to the fire, so that when they had finished the marmalade roll the tea was made and ready to be poured out. And when each person had got his (or her) cup of tea, each person shoved back his (or her) stool so as to be able to lean against the wall and gave a long sigh of contentment. "And now," said Mr Beaver, pushing away his empty beer mug and pulling his cup of tea towards him, "if you'll just wait till I've got my pipe lit up and going nicely - why, now we can get to business. It's snowing again," he added, cocking his eye at the window. "That's all the better, because it means we shan't have any visitors; and if anyone should have been trying to follow you, why he won't find any tracks."