#action cat my beloved…she gets me

[thestamp3d3]

do you miss me? cause i miss you. do you miss me? cause i miss you. do you miss me? cause i miss you. do you miss me? cause i miss you too

[soldiersgirl]

NOT IN THE SAME WAY .ᐟ

summary ⭑ you couldn't work out if you loved him or hated him, but all you knew is that you needed each other, no matter the cost. (based on this request). cw ⭑ fem!reader x soldier boy. 18+ smut/angst (mdni). mutual pining. flirting. mentions of cheating. reader has a bf. break-up mentions. guilt tripping. mentions of reader's past trauma. swearing. kissing. unprotected p in v (wrap it up). oral (f receiving.) fingering. masturbating (f). spit play. spanking. slapping. squirting. dirty talk. begging. sir kink. degradation. overstimulation. pet names (slut, whore, doll, good girl). word count ⭑ 4,493 words.

life used to be simple, nice, easy. you had your friends, your hobbies, your supporting boyfriend. you couldn't have asked for a better life, yet you always felt that something was missing. it was all too simple, too nice and too easy. you searched and craved for new, different. and no matter how much it scared and worried those around you, you never felt more alive than when you, alongside your childhood best friend hughie campbell, joined the boys and their suicide mission of taking down homelander, and more importantly vought.

like many others, you had had your unfortunate run-ins with vought and their supes with their catastrophic attempts to "save lives" and "bring justice". you had watched your best friend get crushed under a toppled sky scraper right in front of your own feet, thanks to homelander and some supposed bank robbers. no matter how many pr specialists vought hired, you knew the real truth. it was just typical homelander recklessness. you had spent weeks trying to get the bloodstains out of your favourite white sneakers. now they just stood abandoned in the back of your closet alongside your discarded vought merch, most notably your once-beloved soldier boy action figure.

standing toe-to-toe with soldier boy was something you had never expected. his presence as commanding and domineering as the rumours had stated, his gaze harsh and his lips always in a default sneer as he lazily trudged around the boys hq.

"not impressed, eh?" butcher laughed as ben's fingers traced along the edge of your desk, momentarily catching your eyes and giving you his signature smirk.

"what a fuckin' shithole. should've stayed with the commies, if this is what you're fuckin' offerin'." ben grumbles as he turns his back on you and leans against your desk, messing up your organised papers and staring directly at butcher who only chuckled in response.

"keep your flippin' knickers on. you'll get your own apartment tonight, a'right? she will show you where it is la'er." you shoot up from your desk and shake your head in defiance. your dislike and distrust for supes grew inch by inch with each passing day and you weren't willing to serve them hand and foot, like butcher expected you to. like he said with that cheshire cat smile; "happy supe, happy life."

"nuh huh! i have date night with my boyfriend! i told you this." you almost whine. you had cancelled twice in a row due to your duties and he was growing increasingly impatient with you. you knew you didn't have many chances left and you couldn't risk losing the one constant you had in your life.

"too. fuckin'. bad. we need you for this. hughie, m.m and i got some old friends to visit. annie's gotta stay under the radar. kimiko and frenchie are at the bleedin' hospital. that leaves you." butcher juts his finger at you as soldier boy slowly turns and silently analyses you. in retaliation, you strike up your middle finger at butcher and reluctantly stealing a glance at the psycho that sat before you. a cold dread settled in your bones as you both stared into, what felt like, each other's souls and all you saw was trouble. and you couldn't make yourself look away, no matter how much your mind willed it.

BRRRRR! BRRRRR! - hello? - hi babe... it's me. - let me fucking guess, you're cancelling again? - i.. no, yes. please, don't be mad! i had no choice, literally butch- - stop with the fucking excuses. i can't hear it anymore. i'm sleeping at my brothers place tonight. i'll call you when i'm ready to talk again. - babe, please! i'm so sorry, i love y– CLICK.

you pushed your phone deep into your jeans and ignored the smirking soldier boy next to you as you walked together in silence towards his apartment. you could feel he was dying to say something, anything, but your furrowed brows and the roll of a singular tear down your face deterred him, your mascara leaving a small stain on the apple of your cheeks. the silence continued as you unlocked his front door, slipped inside and handed him the keys as you gazed around the barren room that only had the essentials and lacked any form of welcome.

"so, yeah. this is it. your own place, soldier boy." the rusted kitchen chair creaked as you slowly eased down onto it, watching him as he glanced around and ran his fingers over the worn sofa, playing with a loose thread before his eyes finally settled on you.

"ben." he coughs before charging into the bedroom and checking out the bathroom. how could america's #1 live in a place like this?, he thought to himself. what a fucking disgrace, this is.

"ben." you repeat under your breath, not enjoying the taste it left on your tongue. it was bitter and unwelcoming, much like his attitude. he swaggered back into the living room and leaned up against the back of the sofa, crossing his strong arms over one another and resting his gaze on you once more. you physically squirmed each time his eyes fell on you, like he could hear your thoughts of discontent and mistrust. "well." you clap your thighs, preparing to leave. you didn't want to spend more time with him than you needed to. he made you feel vulnerable, weak, in danger; just like all the other supes do.

"sorry 'bout your little boyfriend." he offhandedly states, his trademark smirk nowhere to be found as your eyes meet his in surprise. you stand frozen in your spot, your head tilting as you consider his words.

"oh.. thanks. no need." you mutter. "ben." you instinctively add, testing out his name again. the taste was sweeter this time; less bitter and more pleasant, somehow.

"been together long?" he continues, surprising you.

"uh, 6 years." you nod, not wanting to reveal more than you have to, to him.

"hm, does he hate supes as much as you? or is that your own hobby?" he darkly chuckles.

"i don't hate supes, i–"

"don't lie to me, sweetheart. hughie told me everything. he's like a teenage girl at a sleepover, won't stop fuckin' gossiping and spilling every little secret." you accept your fate and just slowly nod. thank you hughie for pissing off one of the world's strongest supers, ever, it was just what you needed on top of everything else.

"i'm not going to apologise for my feelings." you stand your ground, copying his crossed arms and, almost, macabre seriousness.

"i'm sorry about your friend." he almost cuts you off, interrupting your annoyance.

"i don't need your apologies." you sigh. "i just need to do to your fucking job and help us." kicking the chair as you hurry to leave his apartment, his words melting into your bones, making you feel heavy as your mind reels about the accident. as you rush past him, he roughly grabs you by the forearm before, just as quickly, letting go.

"i'll help you. you can trust me." his voice, uncharacteristically soft, makes your heart beat flutter. you want to believe him, but the alarm bells are going off in your head. you flinch away from him, grabbing the arm of your jacket to comfort yourself.

"it's not what you think." and with that, you flee out into the cold new york air, away from the venus fly-trap that is soldier boy.

two things are certain. no matter how hard you try, you can't make it up to your boyfriend. and no matter how hard you try, you can't avoid ben. the more your boyfriend was giving you the cold shoulder, deservedly so, the more you sought out any welcome distraction and ben wasn't going to deny himself the pleasure of you.

long nights in the flatiron building with meetings, brainstorms and debriefs meant less time with your boyfriend and more time with be–, no sorry. the boys, you meant the boys. it was just easier to be at the hq than at home, where nothing but slamming doors and passive aggressiveness thrived. you tried to fix it all; making promises that only end up broken, dates that go unattended and messages left unread and forgotten. somebody else was always at hq, so you never got the moment to sink into despair and lose yourself in guilt. you longed to feel anything other than shame and ben's attention breathed life into you.

his longing glances at you as you pranced around the office, checking up on the boys and double-checking details of plans. the way his hands would accidentally brush against yours as you walked past one another or when his hands lingered too long on your waist when squeezing past you. if he made himself a coffee, he would pour you a cup as well, seeing as "he was already doing it" and let his hands linger on yours for a second too long before pulling back and showing off that devilish smile. he'd always greet you, ask you how you're doing. harmless flirting never hurt anybody, because that's all it was. harmless flirting that was never going to lead anywhere, because you loved your boyfriend. you were sure you did, he certainly loved you. and ben was just... fun, lighthearted fun.

as time went on, you couldn't quite work out ben's angle but you could feel that you lost yourself more and more with each small touch, glance, word that he directed towards just you. you couldn't help but reciprocate each look and fluttering touch. you were like a feather in a hurricane named ben, completely at his mercy. he was filling a void that was emptying out quicker than you could handle.

but then he would shift, like the changing tides of a raging storm. his smiles transforming into scowls, his fleeting touches becoming few and far-between, his soft words of encouragement devolved into yelled, harsh remarks. you would get into feverish arguments, calling him a psycho before storming out of the hq and finding yourself crying in the toilets. you'd recklessly threaten with pouring his pills down the sink, telling butcher that allowing ben to join the boys was his worst idea yet as ben stood and muttered obscenities behind you.

you know what you were playing with, you knew you were tempting trouble. but when everything you knew was falling apart around you, you grabbed onto what was closest and it just happened to be ben.

god help you, it made you feel sick. you grappled with your feelings for weeks. sometimes you could justify it with "you deserve happiness, no matter how it looks, you've been having a hard time. it's all harmless, right? flirting isn't a crime", but it always turned into your best friend's voice repeating the same mean sentiment, over and over. "you're fucking sick. wanting someone who destroyed the life that you knew. who killed me. he is one of them. you should be the one in the grave, not me. i wouldn't do this to you." and when you would turn to your boyfriend for those rare moments of comfort in grief, when you weren't shouting at each other, his hands and words didn't feel right. didn't ignite your skin the way his did. not in the same way.

"he broke it off last night." you shake and shiver in ben's grimy hallway, not knowing where else to turn. you could've gone anywhere, called your parents, but your weary bones carried you right to his door. he silently stepped aside, welcoming you in as you shed your soaked jacket and pushed away your drenched hair from your tear-stained face. a beat passes before he closes the door, another before he turns and gazes those emerald eyes deep into yours.

like a deer caught in his headlights, you stiffen. another pause. he brushes past you, as if everything's normal and takes his usual seat on the sofa to continue watching his show. unsure of what to do with yourself, watch the back of his head as the bile slowly climbs your throat and you struggle to swallow it.

what were you doing? why did you come here? he's the last person you should–

"sit down." his voice disrupts your silent tirade and he claps the cushion next to him.

"i'm soaking." this elicits a snort and a chuckle from the supe before he gets up with a sigh, disappears into his bedroom and walks out with a change of clothes for you. he shoves them into your hands, avoiding your doleful eyes altogether and settling back down in front of the tv. your chest burned and your eyes stung with the tears that threatened to spill over, no matter how much you prayed they wouldn't. after peeling off your clothes and pulling his oversized t-shirt and sweatpants that loosely hung from your limbs, you carefully climbed onto his sofa and sat with baited breath.

you were almost serving yourself on a silver platter to him, but he wasn't biting. every inch of you was burning, waiting for the torment to end, for anything to happen.

"why did you come here?" he asks, his eyes not leaving the tv for a second as he nurses his beer. you stutter and splutter for a second.

"i'm not really sure." you answer truthfully, kind of. he lets out another rough chuckle, running his hands through his chestnut locks and all you can focus on is his arms. the veins that curl around it, the scars that litter it from battles fought long ago.

"i never took you for a liar." he shrugs.

"i'm not." he sucks his teeth and shakes his head at your response.

"if you can't even admit, why you're fuckin' here, then you gotta get the fuck out." his tone grows rougher with each word.

"i'm not." you repeat, just a bit louder. "leaving." you whisper. "please, don't make me go, ben."

"i don't have time for your shittin' mind games." he pushes himself off the sofa and gets himself another beer. you turn and twist in your seat and watch his every move. open the beer, down it, pause. open another. "i got my own issues, can't help you with that fuck-nut you call a boyfriend."

"ex-boyfriend." you whisper and ben sighs.

"point is, you gotta fuckin' leave if you're gonna lie. why did you come here?"

"i came here, because i thought we were friends." you admit. and it was true, to a certain degree. you didn't know what you and ben were and you were fine with never finding out, up until this moment.

"friends? me and you? you think we're just pals?" he laughs to himself, planting seeds of doubt into your already anxious mind. "sweetheart. we're far from friends. i haven't had a fuckin' friend since nicaragua and you think i'd pick you?" he points the bottom of his beer bottle at you. "nah. we're not friends. because what i want to do to you, a friend wouldn't do to a friend." he says too nonchalantly, as if it's a fact shared between the two of you.

"what.." you swallow your rising anxiety. "what do you want to do to me?" you pull your knees to your chest, centering yourself as your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

"i think we both know that, don't we?" he hums, raising an eyebrow. "you're a smart girl, i see how hard you work for that cock-sucker butcher. don't be actin' all brain-dead now." he leaves his half-drunk beer bottle behind and slowly paces over to you. he reaches out and runs a rough finger down your cheek and under your jaw before dropping his hand. silence ensues as neither wants to be the first to break, to take that first step.

"what are we... if we're aren't friends?" you ask. curiosity killed the cat.

"whatever you want me to be." he mutters. but satisfaction brought it back. his touch was uncharacteristically soft as he brushed your damp hair away from your face and rested his hand on the back of your neck. he sucks his teeth before sighing deeply and cocking his head, watching you intensely. his long eyelashes fluttered as his eyes glanced over each of your features, taking the time to fully appreciate your beauty. "i can't say no to you." he quietly admits.

"why?" his eyes dramatically roll into the back of his head. what a dumb fucking question.

"we're good at this game, aren't we?" he retracts his hand and you almost whine at the loss of his strong hand on you. "but i don't wanna play this game no more. do you?" your innocent eyes could have killed ben right there and then. your pupils blown and filled with... fear? desire? he could never fully read you, the way he could everyone else.

he always wanted to dig into your skull and figure out how your brain worked, wanting to know the intricacies of you. exactly what you wished to do to him.

he dragged a thumb over your tear-stained cheeks and tugged on them, ever so slightly, reminding him of your youth and naivety, both he had lost at an early age. he battled with himself as the silence hung over you. the calm before the storm. he had tried to push you away but he always found himself drawn to you, like a soldier called to war. it was inevitable and undeniable. "why are you really here?" he asks for the third and final time, your last chance to be honest with him.

"y-you know why i'm here." your chest heaves and constricts as you finally admit the hidden truth between the two of you. that's all ben needed as he threaded his fingers through the hair on the nape of your neck, tugging you up to him against his toned chest before connecting your longing lips with his. the feeling of his soft lips finally against yours is the closest to heaven, you were sure you'd ever get to. he tugged on your hair, earning him a small whimper from you which only fuelled his desire more. that was a sound he would never get tired of. your tongues danced, finding the perfect rhythm before his glides across your teeth and swallows your high-pitched moans while his free hand, instinctively, palms your ass through his borrowed sweatpants. he breaks off the kiss only to forcefully grab you, hoist you over the sofa into his strong arms as you wrap your legs around his waist and let him carry you to the bedroom and throw you onto his bed. you expect him to be on you like a bee with honey, but instead he watches you as his herculean hands glide over his unignorable bulge.

"take it off." he grunts. he could barely contain himself as you rolled off his sweatpants, revealing the cutest pair of pink panties he had ever laid eyes on. your hands tremble ever so slightly as you go to take off his t-shirt revealing your bare chest to him. goosebumps rippled across your skin as his eyes fell to your perked nipples that were begging for his attention. ben was convinced that this was his personal heaven, his gift for being the loyal soldier he always had been. his bites and nibbles on his lips as you roll your shoulders back and lean back on your forearms and look up at him those eyes, exposing yourself to him. giving yourself over to him completely. "fuuuck..." ben sighs as he falls to his knees at the edge of the bed, grabbing your feet and tugging you closer so his stubble brushes up against the inside of your velvet thighs. you try your best to clench your thighs together and knock your knees against each other to hide the growing damp spot in your pink panties. "don't be a fuckin' tease now." ben grunts as he pushes your knees down and thighs apart, a grin spreading across his aged face. his finger prods your needy clit with a low chuckle before delicately running it up and down your clothed slit whilst pressing soft, teasing kisses to your trembling thighs.

"ben..." you whine, your hands fisting the sheets and turning white in anticipation. he hums as he rests his head on your thigh, admiring the scattered rising and falling of your chest as he continues to play with you. he had barely even laid a hand on you and you were already quivering underneath him.

"look at you. so fuckin' desperate, hm?" a soft kiss pressed against your clothed cunt followed by his tongue dragging over the same spot. torture. "'m sure that sack of shit, you call your ex, never made you feel like this, huh? one night with me and you're already so fuckin' pathetic." he hooks his fingers into your panties, roughly tugs them off and marvels at the sight of your weeping cunt as you keep your legs spread wide open for him. "sucha good girl." he mutters against your folds before hungrily diving his trained tongue between them and savouring the sweet taste of you. your hands automatically fly down and tug on his wavy, chestnut locks as he loses himself in the sensation of your inviting folds. sucking, nipping, licking at every bit of you that he could get his starving mouth on. he reluctantly pulls back, a string of saliva connecting his swollen lips to your slick cunt, admiring his work. a gentle slap to your pussy jolts you out of your ecstasy before three more come crashing down. your hips involuntarily buck with each clap of his hand as your body craves his touch, his attention. "bet your little ex doesn't know how much of a closeted whore you are." a dark chuckle rumbles in his chest at your lewd reactions before stuffing two fingers into you, deliciously curling and hitting your g-spot immediately.

"ngh, ben! fuck, fuck, fuck." you can't help but roll your hips and ride his fingers, the pad of his palm bumping into your clit. he watched in awe as your cunt clenched and took his fingers with ease, like it was made for him. "i'm gonna cu–!" your words and climax cut off by ben roughly flipping you over and propping you up until all fours. he couldn't wait any longer, couldn't deny himself the pleasure of sinking himself into you. he hurriedly sheds his clothes, spits into his hand and spreads it from the tip of his girthy cock to the base as your hole clenches around the absence of him. he towers behind you, pushing your head deep into the mattress as you relinquish all control to him.

"who is my good girl?" he purrs as he pumps himself as he drinks in the the curve of your ass and hushed whimpers into the bedsheets, painfully craning your neck to just get a sight of him. your lack of immediate response earned a harsh slap to your ass from him and a yelp from you. he sloppily kisses the reddened skin, his tongue gliding over the imprint of his hand.

"i'm–." you hiccup. "i'm your good girl."

"sir." he mumbles against your ass.

"sir." you repeat. "i'm your good girl, sir." the bedsheets muffling your whines, but ben heard you loud enough and he straightens up with a shit-eating grin.

"yeah, you fuckin' are." a glob of spit falls from his lips and rolls down from your tight hole and down, settling into your folds. he gives himself one last pump before guiding his tip and pushing himself, almost lazily, into your desperate cunt. you feel each vein, each bump of his cock before he finally nestles himself into you, at a depth you didn't know possible. your breath coming out in short, shallow gasps as he sighs with content and pushes your face further into the mattress with the other hand grabbing tightly onto your hip for support. he drags himself out and audibly groans at the sight of your slick covering him before effortlessly slamming back into you, his hips snapping against yours. "your pussy was made for me, baby. taking me so well." he gasps as he throws his head back in pure exhilaration, your tight pussy welcoming and accommodating his cock with ease.

he was sure that in his over 100 years of existence, that he had never felt a pussy as tight as yours, that took him better than anyone else. the hypnotising sound of his skin against yours, his hands gliding over and grabbing at your smooth skin, pulling you closer to him. you couldn't concentrate on anything else; your senses were overwhelmed with ben and you never wanted it to end. you snake your hand between your sweaty thighs and rub messy circles your oversensitive clit as you, again, near your climax. your eyes and pussy flutter in unison as ben swats away your hand and replaces it with his own.

"god, if i knew you were this fuckin' filthy, i would've fucked you weeks ago. got me waitin' like a pussy-whipped bitch for you." he pats your clit, laughing as you flinch with each touch. "bet no one's ever fucked you, like you deserve. like the slut you are, huh?" he leans forward and creates a make-shift ponytail, wrenching your head and neck back to look into his blown pupils as he continues his rough pace. "good girls answer when i fuckin' talk to 'em." he pushes his sweaty forehead against yours, demanding all of your attention and no matter how hard you try, your mind is completely elsewhere. he was right, no one had ever fucked you like this and no one else ever could. he had ruined other men for you.

"you're the best, sir. best cock i've ever had, t–thank you." you stutter as he expertly hits your g-spot, making your speech falter and eyes look skyward. he reaches up and lightly taps you on your cheeks before grabbing your jaw as his momentum wanes.

"look at you." he coos. "fucking you stupid, ain't i?" he gives your cheek another tap, harsher this time. all you can do is nod in return, your brain foggy. "fuck. cock so good, it got you speechless." he sighs through gritted teeth as you whimper pathetically, completely at under his control.

"c-close, so. close." you mewl. "please, sir. please, let me cum on your cock." and with that ben yanks your head back even further, yanking on your hair and contorting your back so his mouth was next to your ear, nibbling and nipping as you cried out in pleasure. he pushes you back down again, keeping one hand pressing down against your face whilst the other furiously worked your clit; rubbing tight, calculated circles.

"c'mon, you can do it. cum on this cock, you're taking me so fuckin' well, doll." like a man addicted, he's completely transfixed with watching his cock thrust into your inviting cunt. "gonna fuck'n cum in you. you'd like that, wouldn't you? filled with my cum. tell me you want it." he accentuates his last words with sharp thrusts and you whine loudly in agreement. strained whimpers, shaking legs. finally, it hits you like a bullet. your body arches upon instinct and you cry out ben's name, repeating it like a mantra. your spongy walls clench furiously around ben, encouraging him to spur on as your cries pleasure turn into pleas.

"t-too much, too mu–"

"i know you can do it. my good girl." it was a sensation like you've never felt before, pure bliss. a primal groan rumbles in ben's chest and his arm tenses as he continuously rubs your engorged bundle of nerves. "wanna see you fuckin' squirt." your body convulses as you reach your final tipping point and squirt all over ben's hand and bed covers, fireworks exploding behind your eyes before you fall limp in his tight grasp. ben follows quickly behind and paints your walls with his cum, grunting loudly as he rutts into you. he pulls out and falls down next to you, a content smirk plastered across his face. he wipes his sweaty brow and pushes his hair back before reaching out and repeating the action on you. for a while, you just lay and look into each other eyes and although no words were spoken, a silent understanding bloomed between the two of you. he placed a soft, chaste kiss to your lips before rolling out of the bed, making his way to the bathroom as he loudly yawned and scratched the back of his head.

as you laid there in his disheveled bed and your own mess, you knew that no matter what he would never want you. not in the same way you wanted him; all to yourself. you knew in the morning you'd be waking up to your mistake and you'd never be the same, again.

a/n: this took way too long to write, but here we finally are. to the anon that requested this, pls accept my humblest apologies, you've been so patient with me omg <3 i hope it's exactly how u wanted it to be. this fic was based on yet another song (try to act surprised) and this time it's 5sos, one of my faves bands ever! please support your writers by LIKING, COMMENTING & REBLOGGING if you loved this!

-`♡´- tag list: @bluemerakis @legalmente-loca @faiszt @vmiina @emeraldcrs @briiverse @figthoughts @sl33pylilbunny @jasvtsc @silverwoodlynx @kayleighwinchester @bejeweledinterludes @yooyieu @nperoconelcositoarriba @lanasgirlfr @velvetdandeli0n @iluvdeanwinchester @cowboysandcigarettes @daylighted @valjy @littlesoulshine @mostlymarvelgirl @syrma-sensei @rositaslabyrinth @blossomingorchids @deansbbyx @mads-ackles @lunaleah @diawinchester217 @sunnyteume @drakulana (comment or inbox me to be added)

(p.s thank you SO MUCH for 500 followers, never thought this would happen!! appreciate all your continuous love and support for my silly stories and dumb ass posts, i love you all 💗)

[itz-amani]

ADOPT ME HUMAN [What if Sukuna was a cat part 2]

Cat Sukuna X reader [part 2] Imagines.(Photos are not mine) [Grammar error]

TW : blood

Calling all JJK cat lovers your dessert has arrived..

-Basically Sukuna hates you giving orders towards him

-Like when he is laying on your laptop and you wanted to do your work, you ask him to get up,he ignored you so you ended up lifting him u

p put him on the floor.The fact that he was pissed.

-"How dare you lift me up.Such a foolish act "OHOHOHH you better becareful!

-After hours of working on your laptop you decided to spend the rest of the day with your "beloved" cat, Sukuna

-You saw him loafing beside the window of your apartment living room.You walked towards him calling "Kuna~Lets cuddle togeth-" Suddenly

-You saw him giving you the "Side eye" reaction , immediately scratch your hand in a blink of an eye.

-The scratch was very deep , causing your hand to bleed.A tear when down to your cheek you didn't realised and rushed towards the bathroom of your room for the first aid-kit ,as you lock the door leaving Sukuna alone.

-Sukuna felt so self satisfied"That what you get,Know your place fool" and proceeds to take a nap without a care

-But little did he know that the pride moment ended when he woke up you are not in the living room.

-At first he didn't care.A few minutes he started to get worried how long have you been in your room

-He assumed that after you heal the wound you go outside and apologised to him you didn't comeback.He started to get worried. (Imagine having a cat that worries its owner.I hope my cat does that everyday)

-Sukuna began to meow many times to make you respond at his calls It didn't worked at all.He thinks that you are already dead.He didn't even wanted to kill you he just wanted to make you kneel at him but it turned out worst.

-He began to scratch your bedroom door to make you hear the sound of the door knowing that he needs you.

-You are sleeping in your bedroom after you finished healing your wound.You don't want to bother Sukuma .That's why you decided to stay in your bedroom giving him some spaces and understanding that he is trying to "fit in " the new life.

-You woked up with the sound of scratching on your door assuming that is Sukuna

-You got up,opened the door revealing him in front of your bed room.You blinked with your tired puffy eyes,apologising about bothering him at the first and let him inside to your bedroom.

-Sukuna felt so asshamed.I know cats don't feel guilty when they scratch their owners but Sukuna has feelings.He is the one supposed to apologise.Sukuna walked inside , getting on your bed as you do it.

-Sukuna saw your healing woud that is already covered up with bandages.He felt so horrible he wanted to apologise to you.

-While you are trying to to sleep he keeps headbutting you on the forehead telling he is apologising "Forgive me human about my imprudent act".You give a tired smile forgiving his actions as you kiss his nose "I forgive you 'Kuna..But now I really need to go to sleep"

-Him crawling on to your chest laying as you fall into your slumber

"Maybe she isn't bad after all"

[Part 2] LIKE FOR PART 3

[sylusonychinus]

Side Story: A Day in the Life of Prince

6:00 AM – Prince’s Royal Wake-Up Service The sun rises, casting its glow over my glorious kingdom. My Queen, the most loyal of subjects, is nestled beneath the blankets, blissfully unaware of the day’s duties.

But as the ruler of this domain, it is my sworn duty to ensure the Queen rises on time. With the precision of a ninja, I leap onto the bed and strategically position myself on her chest.

��Mrow,” I announce regally. Translation: Wake up, my loyal subject, for the day awaits.

She stirs, opening her eyes and smiling at me. “Good morning, Prince.”

I reward her with a gentle headbutt. She deserves it.

From beneath the covers, the spare human groans. “Why is he stepping on my stomach?”

Because it’s there, I think, stepping harder for good measure.

“Prince, let Zayne sleep,” the Queen giggles, stroking my fur.

I look at her, then at the lump of spare human beneath the blankets. My paw lands squarely on his face.

“I hate this cat,” he mutters.

7:00 AM – Breakfast Politics The Queen gracefully enters the kitchen, opening the cabinet that contains the royal feast. As she scoops my food into my bowl, I circle her feet like a shark, meowing dramatically for emphasis.

“Here you go, Prince,” she says, setting the bowl down with the reverence I deserve.

Meanwhile, Zayne trudges in, hair sticking up like a haystack. “Do I get breakfast, or is it just His Majesty?”

The Queen grins. “Prince first, obviously.”

Zayne glares at me as he pours himself a sad bowl of cereal. “One day, I’ll come first.”

I chew loudly, making eye contact the entire time.

10:00 AM – Zayne’s Attempt at Diplomacy The spare human approaches me with a suspiciously eager look. In his hand is a single cat treat.

“Alright, Prince,” he says, kneeling down like a peasant. “Let’s make a deal. You stop sitting on my laptop during work, and I’ll give you this treat.”

I blink slowly. Amateur move, spare human.

He shakes the treat enticingly. “Come on, take it.”

I lean in, sniffing dramatically, then turn my head away with a flick of my tail.

“Are you serious?” he says, exasperated.

From the couch, the Queen laughs. “He doesn’t negotiate with terrorists, Zayne.”

I leap onto her lap, where I am promptly showered with love. The spare human sulks.

1:00 PM – Supervised Work Hours As my Queen and the spare human sit at their desks, I take my rightful place sprawled across Zayne’s keyboard.

“Prince,” he says in that tone. “I’m working.”

I yawn in response.

“Can you just—” He tries to move me, but I dig my claws into the keys.

The Queen looks over, amused. “Just let him stay. He’s supervising.”

“Oh yeah, great supervision,” Zayne mutters as I knock over his coffee mug.

3:00 PM – Toy Chaos The Queen retrieves my beloved feather wand for playtime, and I spring into action, leaping with the grace of a jungle cat.

Not to be outdone, the spare human pulls out the laser pointer. “Let’s see how smart you really are, Prince.”

The red dot skitters across the floor. I glance at it, unimpressed, then sit down and start grooming myself.

Zayne sighs. “Figures.”

The Queen smirks. “Told you. He’s too sophisticated for lasers.”

Zayne grumbles something under his breath as I pounce on the feather wand with a triumphant chirp.

8:00 PM – Couch Wars: The Sequel It’s movie night, which means I claim the best spot on the couch—right in the center. The Queen settles beside me, stroking my fur.

Zayne stands there, holding a bowl of popcorn. “Where am I supposed to sit?”

I stretch out luxuriously, taking up even more space.

“You can sit on the floor,” the Queen teases.

Zayne sighs, squeezing himself into the tiny sliver of couch I’ve graciously left unoccupied.

As he reaches for the popcorn, I smack his hand.

“Did he just—”

“He’s enforcing snack tax,” the Queen says, laughing.

10:00 PM – The Great Bedtime Snuggle At night, I return to my throne—their bed—and take my rightful place in the center.

Zayne tries to nudge me over, but I refuse to budge.

“Do you ever get tired of being such a pain?” he asks, lying down on the edge of the mattress.

I respond by kneading his side. Consider this your bedtime massage, spare human.

The Queen strokes my fur, her voice soft. “Goodnight, Prince.”

As she drifts off, I glance at Zayne, who’s watching me with narrowed eyes.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” he whispers.

I purr smugly. This is my kingdom, spare human. You’re just visiting.

a/n: for my dear @nezuswritingdesk who loves prince the cat :3

[a-haunting-memory]

Hii! Idk if ur reqs r opened rn but if it isn’t u can do this l8r 🫶 May i req a rocky rickaby x rich gn (or fem) reader romantic hcs? I need to spoil this sopping drenched cat… also, please take ur time, do whatever u need to do- take breaks if u need em! 💗

Aww, you're so nice, thanks🫶

finally I found some motivation to write so here we go! I wasn't exactly sure how to write it, but I tried.

In case you wanted me to write it differently or if you want me to include some other stuff I didn't think of, let me know and I'll see what I can do.

The reader is gn.

Romantic headcannons, but no mention of established relationship.

At first he didn't think much of the gifts that you gave him. He saw them as rewards for his succeeded runs.

However when you didn't stop gifting him, he started feeling a little confused and awkward about it. He wasn't complaining tho, hah.

He started showing you more and more gratitude.

Subconsciously he was looking forward to seeing you, but it wasn't really because he wanted to get something from you. He was just yearning for this nice sensation of feelings he used to get around you.

One evening when he came back from one of his adventures, you heard him complaining about him damaging his violin. - That was the moment you knew what your next move was.

He was really skeptical about borrowing you his beloved violin but he decided to trust you since so far you've never let him down.

When you gave him back his violin, he was in tears (of joy ofc). He couldn't thank you enough. It was his old violin but it was repaired now and it looked almost brand-new.

He offered to play you something on it as a token of appreciation ;3

You were already used to Rocky reciting some random poets he came up with in the span of the moment, but now it got more frequent and more personalized.

He's very grateful for everything you do for him. He might not always be the best at words but his actions speak volumes you wish those 'actions' were less disastrous tho...

You need to tone down spoiling him or else he might feel like he's using you which is not good cuz your poor boy feels awful with that😔

There is a possibility that once Mitzi catches on how rich you are and that you're close to Rocky, she might try persuading him into asking you to help the speakeasy or she might ask you herself.

If you ever deny helping Mitzi's drowning ship and give them a good reason why, Rocky won't ask you for it again. What you do is enough for him and he doesn't wanna make you feel used.

A/n: might update this later. I was in a crowded area and blasting music on my headphones while writing this. It was hard to focus. I'm tired ( ༎ຶ0༎ຶ)

ALSO! GIVE ME ZIB REQUESTS👹👹👹

[greenerteacups]

1,7&8 for Minerva please! I love the way you write her and I always want to see more of her in fic, we didn’t get enough of her in my opinion in cannon.

1. Why do you like or dislike this character?

MINERVA MY BELOVED. I like Minerva McGonagall precisely for the respect in which she is like Severus Snape: because when you're encountering the books as a child, her actions read like normal intelligent grown-uppy behavior, and when you return to the books as adult, they become belligerently bugfuck insane. She is literally all those meme posts about Gryffindors. What do you mean you're putting an 11-year-old child on a high school varsity sports team. A sport that involves rocketing around in the air at Mach Christ while missiles the size of a fucking football zoom around trying to hit him. A sport where at least four other children on the field are wielding large heavy BATS. What do you mean you're buying him the most expensive racing broom on the market to do this. What do you MEAN you're dueling like four ministry officials at once while your students are taking their Astronomy practical. What do you mean you took four Stunners to the chest, something that your resident Healer says should have KILLED you, and then went back to work afterwards. What do you mean you're calling the Secretary of Education incompetent to her fucking face. What do you mean you realized the Battle of Hogwarts was coming and IMMEDIATELY started beating the ass of your coworker of seventeen years. What do you mean you're yelling COWARD at his fleeing back when he refuses to duel five professors at once, as, in fairness, you probably would have tried to do in his position? Huh? MINERVA?

Basically, Minerva's first principle when it comes to children is "I will be stern but fair with you when you inevitably make mistakes," and when it comes to adults, it's "catch these ninety-year-old hands, you contemptible bitches, I'll own you."

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

I really like the fandom trend of having all cats in Hogwarts be maybe-kind-of-probably McGonagall. Especially if they're engaging in normal, cat-like behaviors. Like, yeah, if I could turn into a cat, I'd probably spend my evenings just chillin and getting scritches, too.

I also really like fics where McGonagall teaches someone to become an animagus. I'm sad that canonically she doesn't know the Marauders are animagi, because the idea of her teaching them (or even accidentally helping them figure it out, a la Slughorn and the horcruxes) is so dear to me.

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

Minerva doesn't get nearly enough credit for being as unhinged as she is. She's treated often like a normal, reasonable figure of authority, which she is, but far too little attention is paid to the ways in which she is a two-time guerrilla soldier practically vibrating out of her chair with her desire to kick someone's ass.

[metis-iphigenia]

SOME DC RARESHIPS AND MY OPINIONS ON THEM(because this is supposed to be a yapping account but i wont be going on an analysis)

1)harpercass: my best friend got me into this ship and honestly they are very very cute. if it wasnt for stephcass they would be probably my favourite ship for cass for sure

2)timives: again, the same best friend got me into this ship but i have to thank them because this ship is a great ship

3)damimaps/mapsbird: i didnt look at them as a ship material but now that i do its a great ship made out of a great dynamic. i love my little detective duo <33 though i do prefer them as friends(robin twins)

4)stephrose: i think they would have been a very fun duo to read about in a platonic or romantic relationship

5)colindami: friends to lovers my beloved <33 they were very very entertaining to read and their bond was something i would like to see agian i wish dc would just bring back colin tbh but thats not gonna happen sadly :((

6)harlcativy: god gave us two(2) hands for a reason😈😈 also idk if this is a rareship but i didnt see anything about it so im assuming it is

7)darlasteph(idk their ship name): i smell lesbanism on them but darla being the reason steph became robin and darla dying because of stephs actions after she got fired is :(( it makes me cry ngl

8) taidami/greenbird: i honestly did not know this ship existed until a week ago and from my researches they are the same age(correct me if im wrong) if im right then artist lovers here i come!! i actually want them to be friends badly but i would also love an academic rivals to lovers arc with them(them being friends in their vigilante self but fighting in civvies lol) academic rivals to lovers because damian would love that trope imo(kinda canon with their manga)

9)tamsteph: i saw fanart of them today now i cannot get them out of my mind i think they would get along pretty well

10)babskori/starwatch: im a sucker for women leaving their ex and dating eachother instead they would have been a very nice relationship maybe it wouldnt work out tho?? who knows

11)jaderoy: idk how they are a rareship while being canon but i cannot find anything about them😭😭 doomed tragic yuri noo..😣

12)ghostcat: honestly this came out as a joke😭😭 i was thinking about ghostdemonbatcat(amazing ship ik😼) and i thought "this implies khoa and selina is also dating hmmm" and just went from there tbh

13) mara/maya(either m&m or r&y): no comment on this one because i dont know if their ages match the only reason i wrote it is because i wanted to tell people the ship name i came up for them😈😈

14)demoncat: they arent that rare but cat wives is all i wanna say

15)timtam: same with jaderoy, i cannot find content of them. they were very sweet imo

honorary mention to the ships i dont know well but my best friend does and she knows the best

*cissie/cassie

*cassie/steph

*greta/cassie

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

So, the Miraculous Ladybug TV Tropes page recently added this under the Broken Aesop section on the YMMV page:

Adrien/Cat Noir had many instances where he could have discovered the identity of Ladybug/Marinette, but always respected the private life of his beloved, despite knowing that learning it would bring them closer (The only time when he learned it accidentally, Adrien was punished with the apocalypse, no less, and a Retcon.) His attitude was presented as the right thing to do. In the meantime, Alya has been akumatized on the fact she wanted to know Ladybug/Marinette's secrets. Both times, she tried to violently force the issue with her powers and the second time was after she tried pressuring her into revealing them. But, as a reward for her pushy behavior, Alya has been entrusted with Ladybug's identity and the secrets of the Miracle Box. And Adrien's reward for respecting her privacy? He's still (and more and more) left in the dark, and will very likely be the last one to know.

Any thoughts?

I don't fully agree, but it's also not exactly wrong.

I love Alya, but I've never been a fan of the fact that she learned Marinette's secret identity, especially because the episode where it happens - Gang of Secrets - really failed to make the confession feel like a wise move. It's one of the many episodes with a wacky moral.

For those who don't remember, the episode has most of Marinette's female friends worrying about her. They know that she's keeping secrets because, for some reason, Marinette didn't tell anyone about her breakup with Luka:

Rose: They were so cute together! Alya: Yeah, except they broke up. Juleka: He was like super sad when they did. Alya: But the real problem here is that Marinette never told us anything. If Luka hadn't told Juleka, who told Rose, who told Mylène, who then told Alix, who finally told me. Then I, her BF in the whole world would still be in the dark! Yesterday I was in the restroom and I heard her crying.

This is... really weird. Why didn't Marinette tell them? The episode never explains and I can't figure out her logic because they'd obviously learn the truth. There's no way that Juleka wouldn't know!

My best guess is that the writers wanted a conflict over secrets, but they didn't want to have Marinette's girl friends pick up on her Ladybug-based lies as that would invite a level of complexity that they really can't resolve. But that's a meta reason. As far as the actual text goes, there's nothing to explain this baffling choice.

What's even more weird is that making it about the Ladybug secrets would have worked if Alya was the only one worried because the episode ends with Alya learning the truth. Having the episode only be about Marinette and Alya would make a lot of sense. Instead, it's about the whole, rarely-seen girl group so we're stuck with the Luka conflict. Yay.

Either way, I'm not wild about the actions Alya and Co take. Their first choice is to call Marinette. When she doesn't pick up, they leave a very sweet message. If things ended there, then we'd be fine, but right after that, we get this:

Alya: Maybe we should go to her house. What do you think? Mylène: We'll give her an eternal friendship bracelet so she never forgets that friends can tell each other anything and that we'll always be there for her.

This isn't a terrible idea. Checking on a friend when you're worried about them is a reasonable thing. The problem is the way that check up goes down. The girls basically invade Marinette's room and start messing with her stuff like this is some fun little hangout session, almost discovering the miracle box in the process:

Marinette: What are you doing here? Alya: We're just checkin' in on you, girl. Rose: Aw, it looks just like a real house, look how the roof comes off to show the inside! Marinette:(frantically) No! No, don't touch that! Move away! (As Rose opens the roof, Marinette gets down, pushing past through her friends and Rose as she hides what is inside of the dollhouse, while Rose accidentally drops the roof, which cracks. The girls gasp in shock.) Rose:(kneels to pick up the cracks) Sorry, Marinette! Marinette:(angrily) Will you please leave my room?! Alya: Chill out Marinette, it's just a doll house. We'll totally help. Marinette: No you won't, please go! Alya: Okay Marinette, there's clearly something wrong and we're not leaving you like this till you tell us what it is.

The scene goes on like this until Marinette lashes out and tells them to get out even if it means ending her friendship with them, which is a response that I find totally justified. Marinette is quite obviously very distressed by her friends' presence and they are refusing to listen to her pleas to leave. They're also giving that refusal in a highly confrontational manner, which is the completely wrong tone for conveying concern. They do not come across as caring. They come across as demanding.

Marinette has every right to be upset by that. It's okay to not want people to invade your room, touch your stuff, and demand to know you're secrets. It's also okay to get upset when people keep ignoring your clearly stated and perfectly reasonable boundaries.

While I fully support wellness checks, this is not how you do them. It's like a variation on the scenes where people confront Gabriel in Adrien's name. They're all impressively terrible examples of how you handle a very complex situation. Worst possible way you could go about it. Children, do not try this at home!

Of course, Marinette's justified reaction leads to the girls getting akumatized, leading to a fight, leading to Ladybug saving the day, leading to everyone being friends again even though the girls never apologize for how they went about their wellness check. Rose's quick sorry for breaking Marinette's doll house is the only one we get in the entire episode. Then we get this:

Alya: You go ahead girls, I just have one last thing to say to Marinette. (closes the door to Marinette's room) You didn't tell us everything, did you? A journalist and a BFF can tell these things. I won't try to figure it out or force it out of you. (sits beside Marinette) If you can't tell me what's in your heart, it's your right. Marinette: Will we still be friends? Alya: Marinette. I'm your best friend, and I'll always be. That's why it kills me that I can't help you with whatever's making you feel so alone. (Alya sighs, and is about to leave Marinette's room when Marinette grabs her hand.) Marinette: Alya, wait! Stay. You're right, I am alone. (grows increasingly emotional) More than ever before. I can barely take it anymore! You know why I broke up with Luka? Not because I don't like him, he's amazing! It's 'cause there's something that I can't tell him. You know why I have to forget Adrien? For the exact same reason! You're right, I keep secrets, I lie all the time! I lie to my friends, to my parents, to everyone and the worst thing is, I can't do it any other way! Alya: There's always another way. Marinette: No, not this time. I have no choice. All this is bigger than us, Alya. Way too big. Alya: If it's too big, two of us can handle it better than one. Marinette: If I tell you, things will never be the same between us again. (shakes her head) It'll mess up everything, maybe even destroy it. Alya:(voice breaking) Marinette, I'm your very best friend. Marinette: And I… I'm Ladybug.

Maybe this is just me, but this doesn't feel like Alya respecting Marinette's boundaries. It's certainly not as bad as the earlier scene. In fact, I like a lot of this in a vacuum, but because of that earlier scene, this one feels uncomfortable. Once again, Alya is so sure that she knows what she's talking about even though she really doesn't.

In the first scene, Marinette was right that they all needed to get out so that she could protect the Kwamis and in this scene she was right that the Ladybug reveal wasn't the kind of thing where sharing was the clear right choice. This would all play so much better if Alya said her first few lines and then actually left, only to be called back by Marinette several hours later. Then we'd really feel like Marinette was making an informed choice instead of revealing her identity in a panic.

Another option would be to have Alya offer comfort without needing to know what is upsetting Marinette, maintaining the secret identities while also giving Marinette some much needed support. Saying she'll support Marinette no matter what and then getting up to leave just doesn't feel super supportive to me. It feels like Alya is (unintentionally) making Marinette panic by saying one thing while technically doing another.

Remember, Marinette just had a really stressful day where she almost lost all of her friends, making this an incredibly charged moment that ends with Alya leaving while clearly disappointed. Of course Marinette would try to salvage that! Her brain isn't focusing on Alya's genuine words. It just sees Alya leaving and panics. It doesn't help that this opening line would put a lot of people on edge:

You didn't tell us everything, did you? A journalist and a BFF can tell these things.

"I know you're still keeping secrets, but I respect that" is not the best way to start a conversation with someone who is clearly struggling.

Because of these issues, I don't feel like Marinette truly decided to make this serious choice. I feel like she blurted it out in the middle of a panic attack, so this scene never gave me a warm fuzzy feeling. This is especially true because we never get to truly see the fallout of Alya processing the reveal and comforting Marinette. The scene just ends and the next episode has them back to their usual dynamic, just with the bonus element of Alya knowing the whole Ladybug thing.

To be fair to Alya, a lot of this comes back to our oft-discussed issue of Miraculous trying to speed run major story lines in 20 minutes because it's a formula show so it can't let things play out properly. That doesn't change the fact that this feels rushed and unsatisfying. It's not the natural conclusion to an episode where Alya learns to respect Marinette's boundaries, but I don't think that's actually the lesson here. The lesson seems to be that Marinette should share her secrets with her friends to lessen her mental burden.

Once again, that's a lovely lesson in a vacuum, but a really weird one for the show that gave us Chat Blanc and Miracle Queen in the previous season and that will include Sentibubbler, Ephemeral, and Nino accidentally outing Alya to Gabriel in the exact same season. Season five will even see Luka leave the country because he knows the secret identities!

Writers, when it comes to secret identities, you really need to pick a lane. Are they good or bad? Is sharing them a No Good Very Bad Thing, an act of trust, or no big deal? The inconsistency around this topic is a major issue for the show as the Alya reveal really undermines everything going on with Ladynoir. While there's solid logic for Ladynoir not sharing, similar logic applies to Alya at this point because Gabriel literally knows her secret identity! Through no fault of her own, Alya is not a safe person and that makes it really hard to watch Alya get the reveal while Adrien stays in the dark. I can justify him not knowing. I can't justify Alya knowing.

I'll wrap this up by saying that I don't agree that Adrien has respected Ladybug's boundaries to the point where it feels like he should have been rewarded (narratively speaking, of course. This is a story after all). He may not be all that pushy about an identity reveal, but he's pretty freaking pushy about Ladynoir becoming a thing, so Ladybug not being ready to trust him does feel earned. Plus, as I said above, it's not like there's no logic behind them keeping their identities a secret. We know that they're dating on the civilian side, but as far as they know, they're total strangers.

If you look at it from that perspective and ask, "what are the benefits of a reveal," you'll find that they're not overwhelming, especially when compared to the risks that come with a mind-controlling super villain on the loose. I totally get why Marinette isn't telling him a thing, I'm just not really sure why she needed to tell Alya. The more logical route here is for Marinette to keep her secrets and look for support on the Ladybug side of things. Ideally that support should be Chat Noir or Su-Han, but it could be Alya, too. I still think that's a bad call since Alya's identity is in the villain's hands, but it would still make more sense than Marinette telling Alya all of her secrets. Another route would be for Alya to learn by accident. She walks in at the wrong time and, ooops, no taking that back. That's the only way I'd personally write Alya learning at this point in the story.

Sorry if this one was a bit of a ramble, the writing around the topic of secret identities is one of the elements I truly don't understand. I have no idea what the writers are doing here. It's not even a "you didn't think this through" thing like the sentimonster stuff. It's a "you spent all of last season telling us that identity reveals are bad and you're about to spend all of this season also telling us that, so why do we randomly get an identity reveal that's magically okay? Rena Furtive doesn't even do anything useful for the plot, why make her a thing?? Are you even trying to tell a coherent story???"

[word-wytch]

✨ Life Update ✨

Hello everyone,

I have not been active here in months and wanted to fill you in on what has been transpiring in my life. All very good things, but it has undoubtedly taken my attention away from fandom and writing and into the more physical, tangible world -- a therapy for me that has been necessary on my creative and personal journey.

Back in October my coworker found a stray kitten that I fell in love with at first sight, but my home was a mess so I spent 3 weeks cleaning and organizing and getting it cat-ready while she fostered him. Over this time I discovered how therapeutic the act of cleaning -- something I had always seen as a tedious chore -- truly was. I began to look forward to the satisfaction of wiping away years worth of dust and grime, how I could lose myself in the moment and relish in simple, physical action, and delight in the finished result. In reality, all that really needed to change was my attitude and my relationship to cleaning. It has become like a therapy to me, and I was able to fulfill a dream of hosting a dinner party for friends after years of construction on our very old house prevented us (my partner and I) from doing so.

This is Munkustrap (aka Munk, Munko, baby kitty) named after my favorite and hottest cat from the musical Cats.

Anyway he's literally a perfect angel (and sometimes a poopyhead) but as he is a 6 month old kitten, he requires a lot of my attention. My days now begin and end with feeding and playing with him, and the physical interaction has been so welcome and therapeutic.

In my other real-world endeavors, I have been devoting quite a bit of time to another beloved artform, which is songwriting. In my day job I work at a nonprofit youth arts organization and have been training a new receptionist and also teaching songwriting and performing at the organization with the kids in my class. I have also been active in the dance company I am a part of as well.

It has become vitally important for me to devote time to engaging with my local artistic community, so I have been getting out in the real world and attending local shows. My community is small and my voice and presence in it, as all our voices are, is important. Just as our voices are in online communities, however large or small.

Though I have prioritized my physical world over my virtual one in the past few months, I have still been peripherally engaged, keeping a pulse through close friends and discord servers. And I have been writing, though not as often as I used to. It is not the center of my current life situation and that is ok.

I do intend on continuing and completing DSSCTM, though I am unsure of the timeline on that. Right now I am more focused on being rather than doing, but I sense that when I return to the realm of writing I will do so with a renewed sense of excitement, passion, and joy.

I love you! 🎢💕

[mr-president]

HIT THE SLAY BUTTON 🚨🚨

i was and am absolutely sick and floored that i couldn’t find a single drag queen jamie headcanon or design. i, frankly, absolutely despise designing things, especially fashion, so i grit my teeth and went into agony to deliver this concept.

seriously, how can you not look at this kid and go “a DRAAAG QUEEN???” anyways…here’s my design notes

if i’m referring to jamie in his drag persona, i’ll be using she/her pronouns as is customary with drag queens. and forgive me for any historical or chinese errors; i cannot read or write chinese i can only speak it, and my buddy vinnie stopped answering my questions after a while.

tentative drag name: xiao long bao—yun and yang are known as the white dragon (bai long) and blue dragon (lan long) respectively, but jamie’s title is a pun: “dragon” or “long” is the title, but the entire word “xiao long bao” jsut means soup dumpling. and that’s fitting to me as a nickname for jamie, but imo, it’s not a good drag name. it’s cute and it’s fitting, but it’s not vogue, it’s not a performance name. PLEASE GIVE ME IDEAS IM BEGGING YOU

jamie really seems to like having chinese inspirations in his normalwear, so it made sense to me to have his drag persona be very inspired by hanfu (i believe this is uhhh tang dynasty; the one focused on very ornate patterns with the cross-body robes and emphasis on a waistline; though normally every chinese character pulls from song-dynasty tradition). since i’m not very imaginative, this look was pulled straight from Guangzong drag queen Yuhua Hamasaki

in that traditional chinese hairstyle, jamie has 4 loops in the back with the crown and 4 major pieces of clothing, and with every swig, the loop gets untied and a piece of clothing gets taken off (numbered in order of taken off) the top of the clothes is a zhiju (2, 直裾), dark purple with a reddish iridescent pattern, with a the red xiapei (霞帔) scarf on top. it’s tied with a “horse face skirt”—mamianqun (1, 马面裙) —giving that very long dress/skirt sillohette. underneath that is a jinru (3, 晋襦), another cross-body but shorter robe that’s red and hides the typical drag queen bodysuit (4) that she can then breakdance in.

i debated the logistics of breakdancing in drag heels, but turns out elektra fence has done it on drag race before so. i don’t need to justify its plausibility.

the other two designs are kind of jokes; i’ve (against my will) been forced to see that darkstalkers felicia jamie mod, and i think it’d be a really cool if this actually was a drag thing of his, especially with my hc that yang kind of treats jamie like a beloved stray cat. and felicia’s a performer and singer; i’m sure he could do it. i did adapt some things from felicia’s design; instead of an actual tail (or even a prop one)—which could fuck up jamie’s breakdancing routine—she ties her hair at the end, where it’s dyed white to act as a “tail.” i also hope you enjoy the paw high heel concepts i came up with.

i like jttw, it’s probably my favorite legend of all time and i blame sun wukong for 40% of my personality. but quan yin is absolute fucking mother, and we must pay tribute, so like with his usual routine, jamie strips and reveals the lotus dress underneath her robes.

yun and yang are surprisingly supportive of jamie’s drag hobby, and they’re willing to participate in performances or just show up to support; hence, i think they open up the quan yin act with a fight between sun wukong (yun) and the liu er mihou (yang) before jamie comes in and breaks up the fight by distinguishing the two. the reason for yang’s pensive expression is that, because sun wukong and liu er mihou look exactly alike, then yang has to look like yun, something he despises. would require heavy convincing, but i think he’d eventually budge.

i think jamie’s drag attitude (and attitude in general) reminds me a lot of wesley snipes—an actor typically in hypermasculine action films, who played a very flamboyant drag queen. i’m referencing his role as noxemma jackson in “to wong foo” of course; everything about snipes as noxemma absolutely reeks of jamie, and i could see this being a major inspiration and influence for him

i thought a bit about jamie on rupaul’s drag race, and i concluded that he would fucking hate it. drag queens are viscous, and jamie’s good at quipping insults back, but he’s also used to being able to throw hands afterwards. i can imagine he’d say things like “even the most aggressive, dangerous street fighter cannot match the viciousness of these girls.” i also think he would not like rupaul because rupaul is racist and the judges don’t like cultural performances.

ah yes. the lesbian fucking love drag queens. drag in general—they show the fuck up. jamie in drag would summon every dyke with a 50 mile radius immediately, tips and drinks in hand to be given.

anyways, someone please tell me i’m not insane for this idea that is totally canon, peer reviewed, no notes.

[heartinhyacinth]

Please read fully if possible.

For a brief moment, I was unsure about sharing this here. Then I remember the scene from TGCF between Xie Lian and a farmer from Yushi Huang’s kingdom.

“If I am causing trouble for the rain master, I will not pester any further.”

However, the farmer said, “why won’t you pester? Because it’s shameful? This is about the survival of your {kingdom}—shouldn’t you pester us to death? Is it so hard to lower yourself and ask?”

Then I remember Hua Cheng. To watch your beloved in pain with your own eyes and be unable to do anything—that’s the worst suffering in the world.

The doctors, as well as I, strongly suspect cancer. Amputation was recommended as pretty much the only option to reduce pain, but there lies the risk that the cancer has metastasized to her chest or throughout other areas of her body. We cannot afford to do both. If we take more X-rays and find out it hasn’t spread, we cannot afford to amputate her paw before it does. If we do not check if it has spread, we may go into debt and put her through more suffering only for it to be too late for amputation to help much anyway. We would not be able to afford any more treatment after that.

If you had asked me before what the worst pain of my life was, I’d have said something along the lines of suspected gastroparesis or the time I had to get surgery for a badly infected ingrown toenail when I was thirteen—nitroglycerin was sprayed on my toe as a numbing agent before a needle as thick as spaghetti was inserted into it and a quarter of my nail was removed nearly all the way up to the joint.

However, If you’d ask me today what the worst pain of my life was, it would be this. If you’d ask me a week from now, it would be this. If you’d ask me in a year, though perhaps as soon as even a month, I fear it would be something far worse.

She is in pain and action needs to be taken as soon as possible. This world thrives on insisting upon every chance imaginable that money and independence should live as the core themes of humanity. So far, it is getting its way about the ‘money’ part. I ask that it does not about the ‘alone’ part.

Her name is Lily. She is the friendliest cat you will ever meet in your entire life. She does not care if you are a human, a dog, a cat, or even a rock—she will love you. She sleeps in my jacket when it’s cold. She lays on my face. She sits on wrapping paper like the gift that she is. She loves bread and tortillas and cheese. She sticks her head in my water glass when I’m not looking. She bosses around her best friend—a cat twice her size that everyone else is scared of. She cuddles with her and sleeps with her head tucked in the crook of her neck. She sticks her whiskers up my nose when I’m sad and makes me laugh and licks my tears away. She sits on my shoulder like a bird. She sleeps between my arms with her head on my pillow next to mine. She walks on the piano and plays music. She loves kisses more than air itself and perks up when she knows they’re coming. She cuddles up so close to me I always say it’s like she’s trying to crawl inside my mouth. She purrs more than she doesn’t. She is sassy and will bite your nose or your toes if you put them by her. She looks at me like I’m her entire world and she is mine. She’s my bright-eyed girl who was happy from the moment she arrived.

She is my child. She is my best friend. She is in pain.

This world says her life is not worth it if I cannot pay. This world will not compromise.

This world says If I cannot do it, I am alone. I am asking you to be the compromise. I am asking you to say this is not our world. I can’t do this alone.

Anything at all is appreciated more than you can ever know. Even if all you’re able to do right now is share this ❤️

[mikuni14]

4 Minutes - Ep 8

THIS IS WHAT I'VE BEEN TALKING ABOUT ALL THE TIME IN MY DFF POSTS!!! About bearing the consequences of your actions, about the fact that absolution and forgiveness cannot be given without admitting to sins and evil done and penance.

None of the guys in DFF did this, although they felt more or less guilty. But guilt alone is not enough, you can't make amends to the wronged with just your feelings alone. That's why Great turning away from his parents, from the money, going to the police and admitting what he did is so important to me. It was also perfectly emphasized by the neon wings 💯

I rate the finale highly, it was a very good ending (apart from what happened to Tonkla, poor Fuaiz, ​​his characters always end badly, undeservedly, and White and Tonkla just wanted to be left in peace and be happy). The scene with him, Korn and Win was somehow funny and sopa-opera style: those guys crying, fighting for Tonkla's affections, who just stands there so resigned, disappointed and a bit bored with the drama… The ending of his storyline was very melodramatic which is why I couldn't fully connect with the characters in this scene. And just like in DFF, I was hoping that Fuaiz's character would be the final girl, eh… (I'll be honest: I expected Tonkla to have some plan and eventually walk off into the sunset with a bag of money and leave Korn and Win compromised and arrested *sigh* a girl can dream). It's very sad that Dome and Tonkla, although they deserved everything, got nothing but death. But it also leaves us to wonder what Tonkla's life would be like after all those murders, without the last, solid, good "anchor" in his life - Dome. And in the end, it turned out that both Korn and Win were completely useless, hopeless and ineffective 🙄😒 What a loseres, Tonkla deserved better.

I really liked the solution to the mystery of the "clock" room, that it was an art installation. And that Great was so in character in that scene: avoiding, running away from responsibility and anything that would require him to make a decision, take action, even as simple as calling an ambulance.

I also like that in his idealized version Great is always active and doing good. And that in real life, after waking up, he tries to be his ideal version.

I also like that he discusses his plans with Tyme. I like the calm, everyday, ordinary romanticism of their relationship.

I liked that Tyme didn't give up trying to get to Great. Not giving up in love, not giving up on the beloved is one of my favorite tropes in BL series, it makes me believe in commitment and love between the characters 😊

I love the scene when the cat interrupts their kiss and Tyme just smiles fondly, THIS IS TRUE LOVE, when he/she likes your cat 🐱

Doctor Den and his game? Perfection. Well, he seduced Lukwa - and me! lol. Also him as a good friend - it was so nice. Was that the song from KinnPorsche at the end? What a nice touch!

And I'm most happy that we have a happy ending. I was 99% sure that they were both going to die and I was even fine with this. Because I couldn't imagine accepting Tyme and Great living HEA without Great suffering the consequences for what he did to Dome's dead body (and I was convinced that would have happened if Great had survived, so many series has disappointed me recently, why would this one be different 😑). So I would rather see him dead than alive and not suffering the consequences, because I couldn't feel sympathy for him and his HEA would be UNDESERVED. That he survived and can enjoy Tyme's love, I fully accepted only after seeing him in front of the police station and when his guilt became public. This kind of HEA is deserved and acceptable😊

[sunshinemoonrx]

GoGoV 31-36

AH...WE REACHED IT...

I suddenly kind of wish Daimon was the weird black sheep of the family who did "rescue work" as a wandering martial artist of justice rather than a cop with this on the side, because he's very memorable here.

Anyway, I really enjoy the gradual arc of Salamandes stepping out from his siblings' shadows; there's no single big moment of usurpation, he just loses his patience more and more. Even when their mom declares "okay lil bro's in charge now", he's already been yapping about that for a bit, and the other siblings don't really listen anyway.

I really like 31 including this bit about the importance of having an actual good relationship with your siblings, cause a lot of TV does just kinda assumes family automatically loves each other deep down. Also nice to see them really paying off the parallel between the hero and villain families. The core family relationship is a huge strength of the show! All the ways they help and annoy each other are really believably layered and mixed together. You really get that "one moment I love this guy, the next I need to punt this guy out the door" you feel with real siblings.

Also: They got the Metal Hero chaos dimension in this show!!!

My beloved.

Most of the rest of this batch were pretty good--32 was goofy, 34 was intense--I would have a lot more to say about it, from the intense and nuanced emotions to the sick as hell final fight scene, but @biomic 's liveblog of it kinda has everything covered as so frankly just check out such posts of these:

And 35 and 36 were entertaining zany high-concept spy/heist and martial arts dramas, respectively.

33 was...weird? (and not in the good way, like Milk Judo Piledriver). It could have been an all-timer (a monster gets magic'd into being comically shy around girls, defects from the villains in exchange for confidence lessons from the heroes, you know their eventual battle is going to be tragic), but then it spent quite a bit of time on that old chestnut, "how cute high school girls are", which c'mon, man. It then kinda dials it back by showing he's also shy and falling over around like, old grannies and toddlers, so it's clearly not just a sexual thing, but the emphasis really threw me off enjoying the episode. I dunno, Matsuri even does some ~sexy disguise changes~ and they're mostly not even actual sexy costumes. Speaking of which, further weird moment in 35 where Matsuri sees the crystal they're guarding that's this super important new energy source and repeatedly not listening to this is all "uwaaaah but it's so prettyyyyy" because, idk, girls are frivolous and like shiny things? It's really out of line with her characterisation so far. (This stuff is what caused that previous post where I was like, checking under rocks for Arakawa, but he was apparently nowhere to be found here!)

Still, big upside is 35 did have Dinus as a cat burglar seemingly just for fun? Like, she eventually goes after that super important crystal, but not before doing a bunch of other heists of just random shit. And good for her. The first scene where it keeps cutting between narrated comic panels and live-action footage is really fun, makes me wonder if this is a tribute to some manga that was big at the time.

Meanwhile 36 I admit I kept thinking everyone was tricking everyone else based on similar episodes I'd seen before, and then it turns out everyone was just being honest and sincere, and frankly the episode was much better for it. The monster really did leave the villains for the pursuit of ultimate martial arts knowledge, Daimon's old master really did take up the monster as his new student, and so on.

What's really important, though, is all the "mooks in fun costumes" content we got this batch.

I didn't keep a Dinus Gallery as I went along this time, but she's been pretty highlighted lately, so I have been well-fed.

I like looking at her : )

[susellesie]

my opinion on s2 Alicent is that house of the dragon needs to be different from game and thrones, and that most of the criticism of house of the dragon is a reactionary instinct to relive certain beloved characters and tropes from game of thrones.

let me be clear; house of the dragon as a show is already going into characterization with a lot of options for characters and tropes off the board because they've already been done in game of thrones. they're already going to have to work with the instinctual assumption from the audience to relate back to what they know. rhaenyra = daenerys, otto = tywin, and alicent = cersei.

now, obviously these aren't exact matches. i'm talking about sweeping personality and the tropes they march. cersei, specifically, is the trope of the feral mother. she kills for her kids (in the books at least - technically in the show too, but that was revenge and i'm talking about premeditated murder) she lives and dies by her kids. her ethical code, goals, all of it rests on her children.

and cersei is an amazing character. she's fascinating to read and watch, and lena headey's performance will live in my brain forever. but cersei is one of the main characters throughout game of thrones. and say what you want about season 8- god knows i won't defend it - but her arc ends there, for better or for worse, after all her children have died before her.

now, years after watching game of thrones slowly decline and eventually bomb in the final two seasons, the show writers are tasked to explore these new characters in a prequel. to be the first "new" asoiaf content to air on television since. the reality of house of the dragon is that it has to be different from game of thrones. it just does. hotd has to be its own show with its own characters.

so, here's what i'm getting at; alicent is the deconstruction of the trope of motherly devotion.

alicent in season one has the exact same ethical code as cersei; do whatever to protect my children. even if that means taking the throne from my childhood best friend, even if that means forcibly removing her from power. and in driftmark, this escalates, if only temporarily - alicent shows a willingness to harm a child to avenge the harm that has been done to hers.

asoiaf have always asked tough questions of the reader. what do you do if someone hurts someone you love? how do you act with honor if honor gets you killed? cersei's character asks an audience a question: what would you do to protect your children? and to the audience, that question is simple, it's easy. anything. it's the thing that redeems cersei when her actions are irredeemable; she does it out of love.

alicent's character asks a different question is season two, one that i think will be explored more in season three. what would it take for you to stop supporting your children?

no matter what joffrey does, cersei is a bystander to it, and often an accomplice. that is the devotion that makes up her character, and the trope she represents in the story. alicent is the deconstructed answer cersei's dilemma, and i think ultimately what cooke, condal & co. are trying to say is that there is a reality where "a mother's love" is a trope.

think about media today. think about the characters we think of when we think about mothers. cersei, cat, rhaenyra? all mothers so devoted they die for it. the concept of a mother's love is so idolized by the media that we don't think about the woman behind the mother. the woman becomes more mother than person, a shield for children both good and evil. (not talking about George's wrting - i'm talking about the way people view these characters commonly.)

and it's unrealistic. it just is. for every mother who is completely and utterly devoted to their good, well behaved child there is another who has raised a child who ended up committing sexual violence, or domestic abuse, or hurting others in general. and that's not to say children/people who grow up to do these things do not deserve to be loved by their mothers - that's to say the expectation that mothers should always be not only forgiving, but silently accepting and an accomplice to the actions of their children is not the feminist trope people might think it is.

cersei is already the example of the dedicated mother. we saw that arc play out on screen. Alicent is the deconstruction of the devoted mother who is tested beyond belief. who is challenged in the worldviews she has held her entire life. and the decision at the end of season 2 - the decision to choose rhaenyra over her son, half dead, who never took ruling seriously, who sought revenge by killing innocents, is something many dedicated mothers have had to do in their lives too.

it's not an easy thing to stomach, because we have been told through media our entire lives that a mother who does not choose or defend her children is the evilest of evil. but that is an antiquated trope for a reason.

we have to be able to move past the reactionary instinct to desire the things that make us comfortable, and one of the things that makes us comfortable are the tropes we rely on. alicent's s2 characterization is the deconstruction of that trope.

[marukuroshima]

Introducing my servant OC : Arianne Chevalier (Pretender)

Note : This character does not exist in any novels and isn’t an historical character. However, her story does exist in my universe !

Without further ado, here is her profile ! :

——————————————————

Character info :

A woman from the countryside of Arles. She was a kindhearted woman who loved her life

in the countryside with various animals, but had to leave her home to move in the city when her parents decided to marry her to a man named Lionel Collin.

Lionel was a respected man in Arles. He inherited his parents business, the citizens loved him... But Lionel was a different man with his wife, Arianne.

Profile 1:

Height/weight: 159cm, 45kg

Origin : "The black cat lady of Arles"

Region : France

Alignment : Neutral-good

Sub-attribute : Earth

Gender: Female

A broken lady who stopped believing in god when no one replied to her prayers and calls for help. She had to take matters in her own hands and people say she comes back as a black cat to guide those who are all by themselves in their misery.

Profile 2:

Arianne was the only one who knew Lionel's real personality. He was scarily smart, manipulative, controlling... He knew how to build a good reputation. To him, Arianne was acquired, she was his property, and made sure she knew he was superior.

But poor Arianne, who had a good heart, initially thought he acted like that due to stress from working so much in his family business. She would try to make him relax, feel good, while thinking «maybe if he's in a good mood he won't hurt me tomorrow », but this tomorrow she hoped for never came. And everytime, he would apologize and act like he regretted his actions to manipulate her even more.

The sad thing is that it worked. She genuinely loved him and blamed herself for failing to be a good wife. Despite her suffering, Arianne forgave her husband every time, but as time passed, she got more and more emotionally exhausted. She finally accepted to acknowledge that something was wrong in their relationship.

So she called for help.

Profile 3 :

« I have no intent of using a holy grail... But if you really want to know what I wish for, I would say that I would love to show you the countryside I grew up in. Would you like that as much I would, master? »

Arianne thinks her past is an important part of herself and keeps a fond memory of her childhood home. Whenever she talks about it with someone, you can see it as a mark of trust and affection.

Profile 4 :

Chat Noir d'Arles

Rank : C

NP type : Anti-personnel/self

Arianne turns into a black cat and summons her beloved animals as spirits to help her attack a single enemy.

As a cat, Arianne has access to every wisdom and answers of humanity, but she can't communicate and will forget those answers as soon as she transforms back.

Profile 5 :

But the citizen of Arles were too enamored by Lionel's charm. He was indeed a charming man, and they refused to believe that such a respectful man could be capable of such things. They thought she was insane and it got to the point of even doctors conforming her insanity. Maybe leaving the calm countryside to leave in the agitated city drove her crazy. Rumors spread... Mothers would tell their children to get away from her. Doctors even advised Lionel to keep her isolated for a while, to rest her mind.

So he locked her, and no one bat an eye.

That's when Arianne started to pray... But no one came. That's when she snapped. It has to stop, so she escaped when she got the perfect occasion. She brought the few animals she could bring with her when she moved. A horse, a dog and of course, a black cat.

Sadly, her husband caught her and killed her beloved animals as a punishment, and reminded her that she brought nothing good to them, just like a black cat. It was the last straw that made her snap. She killed her husband, wrote a message to those who didn't believe her, putting all of her rage and suffering in those words before killing herself.

But even after that, she wasn't peacefully resting, and she will never be. Even years after years, her story was still being told, and some innocent souls in misery testify having seen a black cat trying to guide them. All of those testimonies are from Arles. It is believed that it was Arianne coming back as a black cat to help those that gods and humans won't help.

Clear « interlude » :

If you ask her, she would say that she isn't like other servants, she doesn't see herself at their levels. But ever since she has been summoned, she developed a strong bond with her master, having huge respect and fondness for them, and also gratitude for trusting her.

« If you ever need a familiar shoulder to rest on or a purring session to relax, just call me, I'll be there just like you never gave up on me, master. Don't hesitate, okay? »

Some may think is weird but Arianne is definitely aware and having a cat purring on our lap can be the best therapy to a depressing day... Especially when the fate of humanity depends on you. Even as a demon servant, the kindness in her heart remains strong as she stays true to herself despite everything she has endured.

——————————————————

Some extra art with some edited sprites :

And her summer outfit !

[aidanchaser]

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to @thequeenofspace! I was your @mlsecretsanta for 2024 and I had a blast working on a little DJWiFi fic for you. I hope you enjoy!

Adrift

Tags: DJWiFi, Scarabella, Nino as Chat, Romance, Fluff, Comfort, Cozy, Identity Reveal Word Count: 1978 Rating: G for General Audiences Beta'd by: @samsimisauser

The living room is dark and empty. Though Alya’s family has gone to bed, Alya is wide awake, as usual. She sits on the small patio balcony, computer perched on her lap and keyboard clicking softly beneath her fingers.

Summer has finally crept in, and Alya has decided she likes Paris summers, when the air is warm and clings to her skin like a sopping towel. It reminds her of home. She’s a bit cool in her thin camisole and pajama shorts, but if she was dressed in anything more, it would break the illusion. 

She rests her laptop on the patio table and pauses her writing to reach for a candle labeled driftwood & sea salt. The wick is still white and slick with wax, unlit because Alya is afraid to burn through the candle, to lose this scent and this memory.

While Alya has some notes on how the candle’s sage oils aren’t quite the aroma of ocean water that she craves, this is the closest she has come to smelling the salty ocean air in the last year. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, wishing that sage were more like driftwood, wishing that Paris’s summers were thicker, wishing that home could always feel like home, wherever she is.

When she opens her eyes, a pair of feet dangle above her, clad in black leather and tipped with thin silver bands, curved like a pair of cat’s claws. She only just manages to shove aside the candle as the rest of the black cat superhero drops onto her balcony. To his credit, he looks as startled to see her as she is to see him.

Chat d’Ombre’s hood is low over his face, the goggles over his eyes are tinted green, and despite the loose shape of the hood over his head, the rest of his outfit is tight and trim, with thin green stripes that follow his figure from shoulder to toe.

“Sorry—” he says, and instantly backs away until he hits the railing that walls in the small patio. “I was just out patrolling—Didn’t realize you were out here—I was only—Just on my way—”

“You don’t have to go,” Alya says before she can quite stop herself. She tugs on the gold studs in her ears and, on an impulse she knows she shouldn’t follow, asks, “Where’s your partner?”

“I’m on my own tonight,” he says. “I—the power for the fan in my place went out, so I thought I’d get some fresh air.”

Alya laughs. “This weather is too much for you?”

“It’s <i>hot</i>,” he complains.

“Maybe I’ll update my blog tonight: ‘Paris’s beloved cat superhero’s greatest weakness—humidity.’”

He sticks his tongue out at her, and she sticks hers right back out at him, but the surprise and discomfort have vanished. He perches on the railing of her balcony like its the most comfortable place in the world.

“You don’t normally write about Scarabella and me,” he says, and tips his head to one side, like a cat examining a fish in a bowl.

Alya’s cheeks grow hot, and she wonders if maybe summer is too warm after all. “Well—plenty of other people do. And I sometimes will—you know—report on what they report on. It’s… <i>interesting</i> how they report on us—I mean—our heroes.” She coughs and hopes he doesn’t catch her near slip. “I didn’t know you read my blog.”

Her blog started as a way to chronicle her family’s move from one side of the world to the other. Then it became a way for her to adjust to Paris and invest in it. When she’s not reframing personal anecdotes into insightful narratives, she’s calling for action on Mylène’s latest project or critiquing Mayor Bourgeois’s latest mandates. Nino had once suggested she write about Paris’s heroes, had even suggested the name “The Bella Blog,” but she tries not to write about Scarabella and Chat d’Ombre—she’s too worried she might give herself away.

Chat d’Ombre shrugs. “I really like the way you write about home. And Paris. And the way it, you know, is and isn’t home.”

“Is Paris home for you?” she asks, though she immediately bites her tongue. “Sorry—I suppose you’re not supposed to share identity details with civilians, right?” But that lie tastes even worse that the dread from her question. She’s the one who has insisted on secrecy between them, for the sake of Paris. Personal details about her partner’s home aren’t allowed.

Chat d’Ombre shrugs and slides down from her railing. He stretches his arms over his head, and his back arches like a cat kneading its claws into the carpet. He even flexes his fingers like he’s attempting to make biscuits out of the humid night air. 

“Paris wasn’t always home,” he says, which is gratefully vague enough that she has no new clues to who he is. “I mean, I’ve always lived here,” he says, “but it didn’t always feel like home. It does now, though.” He reaches for one of the iron patio chairs and pulls it closer. He slumps into it, legs straddling the back with his chin resting on the metal curls with their flaking white paint. The light glints off of the green glass guarding his eyes, and Alya wonders, not for the first time, what it would be like to lift those goggles from his eyes, to truly see the boy who would be waiting behind them.

“Do you think that has to do with being a superhero?”

He frowns, as if he hadn’t considered this yet. “Maybe. I think it has more to do with the friends I’ve made.”

Heat pricks on the back of Alya’s neck. “Friends like Scarabella?”

He folds his arms under his chin and sinks his head into the crook of his elbow like a cat settling in for a nap. “She’s a good friend, yeah.”

She rests her elbow on the table and leans into her hand, tipping her head to meet the angle of his eyes. “Just your friend.”

“Oh, sure. We keep it profesh. Besides, I’ve had my eyes on another girl for a while.”

Alya’s heart twitches and she has to swallow down the sudden ache. “‘A while’? You haven’t told her?”

“I don’t think she notices me.”

“You’re literally a superhero. How could she not notice you?”

He smiles wryly. “That’s the thing, isn’t it? I can’t tell her who I am. And how am I supposed to get her to notice who I really am if all she sees is… this.”

“What do you want her to see?”

“I hope she thinks I’m funny. I hope she thinks I’m loyal. Trustworthy, dependable. Caring, cool, confident… even if I don’t feel confident.”

As he says it, she is suddenly aware of the way the clawed tips of his gloves tap anxiously against the back of the chair. He’s nervous—she makes him nervous.

“Do you want me to post a personal ad for you on my blog? ‘Caring, cool, confident guy who can’t reveal his name, seeking…?’”

He laughs, a single silly snort in a burst of humor. But then it settles into something soft. She’s familiar with the teasing arch of his eyebrow and she braces herself for a stupid pun, but instead he says something surprisingly genuine:

“Seeking someone thoughtful, insightful. Someone who sees the world as it is and presents it honestly, but is still optimistic about what it could become.”

Alya responds by blowing a fat raspberry into her palm. “That could be anyone.”

“No, it’s not anyone.”

The chair tips forward under his weight. Alya’s heart pounds in her chest, but she leans forward, too. 

“The thing is, though,” he says, voice low, “if I tell her how I feel right now, I can’t tell her as me.”

“Then don’t tell her anything,” Alya murmurs, and closes the distance between them.

As his lips press against hers, all she can think is that this is what home is supposed to feel like. It’s steady, supportive, and genuine. It’s about trust and commitment. This is her partner, and she wants him to be her partner in everything. 

And if she trusts him with her life every time she dons a magical disguise, why shouldn’t she trust him with her identity beneath that disguise?

He presses back against her, but as he presses too far, the chair slips out from under him and goes crashing to the floor. He goes with it, and so does she, laughing as she falls on top of him.

He winces and rubs his shoulder where he hit the ground. Alya sits up, enough to allow him room to sit beside her. His hood slides off of his head, revealing closely shorn curls and Alya reaches out to brush her fingers against them.

“Does it break the romantic alluring mystery?” he asks with a wry smile.

“I like it.”

“You know this means this is all we get, right? No dates, no holding hands along the riverbank, just… late night balcony visits.”

Alya purses her lips. “It doesn’t have to be.”

“I can’t tell you who I am. Scarabella would murder me and then fire me.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize she was your boss.”

“I mean, she’s not, but she is sort of the one in charge.”

“What if Scarabella told you her identity first? Then you could tell me yours, right?”

“I don’t know if that’s how that works.”

“Ask her.”

“Ask Scarabella if she can tell me her secret identity, just so that I can share my secret identity with the girl I like?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think she’ll say yes.”

“She already did.”

But Chat’s brow furrows and so, with a wide grin, Alya says, “Tikki, spots on.”

There’s a flash of pink, and when her vision clears, she expects to see Chat d’Ombre staring with perhaps shock or wonder, something romantic at least. Instead, he bursts out into laughter and even falls over.

Scarabella grips him by the shoulders to hold him still, but his laughter persists.

“It’s not that funny! I can be a superhero!”

“It’s not that,” he laughs. “I’ve just—I’ve liked you this whole time and you—I never would have guessed—” In between laughs and hiccups, he manages to spit out, “Plagg, claws in.”

Green light bursts from his ring and washes over him. The fine black leather catsuit disappears, leaving behind a plain t-shirt and a plain boy, no hood or goggles, staring up at her with the familiar silly grin of her best friend.

Alya doesn’t feel like laughing. She only gapes at him. “Nino?”

“The one and only.”

“But—but—” 

But of course he is. His sense of humor, his need for freedom, his casual, gentle, and compassionate approach to everything—if she had not been so distracted by the intrigue and mystery of a boy in a dark hood, perhaps she would have seen it sooner.

His laughter is suddenly lost in worry as her shock fails to clear.

“Is it—is it okay that it’s me?” he asks.

She sinks down on top of him, pinning him to the ground with her whole weight. “More than okay,” she says, and kisses him again.

Home, for Alya, was always the place she felt loved. Safety was not part of it, couldn’t be with storms raging and her father’s wild animals always in the periphery, but love was always part of it, from her parents to her sisters. As Nino slides his hand through Scarabella’s thick, magically finished curls, she merely adds this love to her definition of home. The place isn’t important, neither is the weather.

As Nino said, it’s the friends he made that made it home. And this friendship—because at its core it still is a friendship and a partnership—is the thing that makes Paris home.