#all worth it though i really like how that turned out

[transmisogyny-explained]

[Image Text 1: “I wish to reiterate her message, grim though it may be: There is no salvation awaiting us in a glorified past that does not exist. If we are to advocate for our humanity, our legibility, and our liberty, it will be as a part of something new, something unprecedented, something we do not as yet have names for. You do not want the ‘veneration’ that the holy men of my culture reserve for us.” /End Image Text 1]

[Image Text 2: “Most reprehensible, however, are the attempts to paint any desires for solidarity between hijras and transsexuals as ‘Western imperialism’, or to enshrine their degendering as a valiant ‘decolonial’ effort to preserve non-Western cultures in all their bloodstained glory. As a disowned daughter of this culture, I wish to state in no uncertain terms:

“If a culture’s preservation depends on the violation and degendering of and denial of dignity to my sisters, then it should join every other extant regime that thrives on injustice, upon the ash-heap.” /End Image Text 2]

[Image Text 3: “...marginalization. Sex is not quite as binary as advertised, because the heterosexual regime has always regarded people as one of human, broodmare, or freak. If you are not a person with autonomy, then you are a vessel for those who are … and if you cannot even be that, then you are a waste of flesh, something to be fucked, killed, or both.

“The butch derided and beaten as a delusional ‘he-she’, the tranny who can be endlessly violated, and even the woman who merely refuses to have children, are bound by this commonality. If we cannot participate in reproduction, we must be fixed … or disposed of.”

[Image Text 4: “On that note, we ought to touch upon one of the most sinister omissions regarding this book, tucked away in endnotes on page 166. In the fourth numbered endnote there, Nanda suggests a slew of texts critiquing the ‘cultural construction of transsexualism by the medical and mental health professions’. Among them is Raymond (1979)—The Transsexual Empire.

“The foundational text of anthropological third-sexing of the hijra affirmatively cites the most famous transmisogynist in existence, laundering her bilious, fervent hatred of transsexuals into the annals of the queer academy.” /End Image Text 4]

[Image Text 5: “The Enlightened West, in all its wisdom, already has a Third Sex: the tranny.” /Image Text 5]

[Image Text 6: “(Trans)misogyny is not a cultural value worth preserving. The development of a cross-cultural transsexual and transfeminist consciousness, rooted in the recognition of how our identities and struggles are similarly shaped, is not imperialism. It is a struggle for liberation, one that queer academia is heinously eager to oppose, and one whose proponents shall no longer be spoken over.” /End Image Text 6]

[Image Text 7: “...reverted to appease that selfsame elite). I do not know how to explain to learned academics that sexual objectification and reproductive exploitation were not innovations that the West pioneered, nor do I know how to explain that historical record of ‘asceticism’, of hijra being prescribed a livelihood of begging for alms at ceremonies, is not ‘reverence’ or an ‘institutionalized gender-role’, but marginalization.” /End Image 7]

[Image Text 8: “#oh i didn’t realise this was a recent post.. read it like yesterday when someone linked it elsewhere #gotta say as another desi tgirl. thank you so much for writing this #i was vaguely aware of most of what was touched but i didn’t really the origins of most of it or how to discuss a lot of it #proceeded to go through the rest of your theory [on transmisogyny and lesbophobia] #your writing is wonderfully lucid and i love how you present concepts #the prose feels fantastic to try digest; even if a but dense for me at times #saved” /End Image Text 8]

[Image Text 9: “#as i read i started thinking the author being critiqued sounded more like ‘being nb is more queer than being binary trans: terf edition’ #and then BAM turns out she cited the terf bible just to remove all doubt #misogyny #and transmisogyny but mostly misogyny (in the form of ‘women who can’t bear children are worthless and that’s what transfems are ergo…’)” /End Image Text 9]

The Third Sex

After months of research and painstakingly connecting the threads of transmisogyny theory, queer activism, and field-wide epistemic injustice, I would like to present "The Third Sex": my treatise on a third-world transfeminism.

[cheyisagirlkisser]

・゜゜Gamer Ellie Headcannons ・．

NSFW CONTENT BELOW, MDNI

✧.* Gamer Ellie wears those plaid boxer-shorts around the house adorned with some random t-shirt she often sleeps in. When she's out and about, she loves her classic flannel or white wife-beaters, sports bra peeking out of the fabric when she moves just ever so slightly. Converse and doc-martins all the way. You'll beg her not to wear it in public, but Ellie's got this one black Call of Duty t-shirt that is she is obsessed with.

✧.* Gamer Ellie ismore introverted than anything. She likes staying inside with you and watching movies with you rather than going on restaurant dates. Speaking of movies, gamer Ellie would be more into comedy and sci-fi than anything. I've mentioned in previous headcannons Ellie would be a huge Jurassic park fan, but some other movie / shows she'd be begging you to watch with her are Airplane, Star Trek, and Pulp Fiction. Anything with action or on her level of dumb humor, and Star Trek for when she's geeking out. It's her guilty pleasure.

✧.* Gamer Ellie's favorite type of physical touch is having your fingers running through her hair. She likes to feels your touch in such a light, vulnerable way. Sometimes when she's playing a game, you'll approach her from behind and massage her scalp with your sweet touch. "Babe, you're distracting me!" She'll complain with a dramatic but playful groan, but her freckled face will melt like ice on a hot day from your touch.

✧.* Gamer Ellie isn't good at multi-tasking. She loves having you all up in her lap while her fingers are punching keys, but she always seems to lose when you're touching her, let alone near her. Why? Her thoughts are filled with the night before when the two of you were about to fall asleep, giggling in bed about some video on your phone, and specifically she's thinking about when you forgot all about sleep and had a late-night make-out session with some 90's movie tuned out on the television. It's so hard to remember to reload her virtual AR when all she's feeling is the way your warm fingers slid down her back and how your breathing turned into soft pants when she got all greedy and latched her filthy mouth onto your neck. Still, she'd never tell you to get off of her lap so she could focus. You were worth every aggravating respawn.

✧.* Gamer Ellie, in bed, isn't some huge dommy-mommy or whatever you're thinking. She's really touchy, sure. But she's honestly just your average lesbian who is absolutely obsessed with her girl, and she blanks at time. You'll be on top of her, and she's got this cave-woman aura going where she's just staring at your pretty face, focused on chasing your lips for a kiss. Her hands are awkwardly perched on her sides because she forgets how to even touch you: you're such a fucking goddess, and she's kind of a loser. You're a savior, though; guiding her hands to your waist with a sweet, patient smile. Ellie will get the cue and her fingers will spread across your waist to the top of your hips, and she remembers how desperate she is. (This one was inspired by me with my gf, you're so real gamer Ellie)

✧.* Gamer Ellie is also a switch! If you want her to be the top, she'll do it, but like I said she's going to be all cute and embarrassed about it. She'll be eating you out and her thoughts will be going at 100 miles per hour: "Am I doing this right?" "She's moaning Ellie, stop overthinking it." And sometimes the only thought she can really be having is "I love pussy." Cute. When she's bottom, which is most of the time, she isn't really all submissive and whiney but more like, defensively flustered like how she got with Dina when Dina threatened to bite her on the couch. Gay panic type of bottom. She does get pretty loud when you use a vibrator on her, though. That's a personal favorite in the bedroom.

✧.* Gamer Ellie did have a Fortnite phase. She hates talking about it but she spent like an ungodly amount on the stupidest skins. She used to make you watch her play at first, and then it was you having to create a whole Epic account so you could be her duo. Ellie's favorite season? Chapter two season seven. Why? Aliens. She got the battle pass and unlocked the alien skins, too. A little after she got super obsessed with it, like yelling at some 12 year old boy telling him his mother wishes she swallowed him, she moved on to a game that wasn't making her yell at at her screen. You were thankful.

✧.* Gamer Ellie is a huge night owl. While your sleep schedule is pretty average, she will blink and it'll be four in the morning. She'll groan and pop her back before stripping down to underwear and a t-shirt and then crash on your shared bed, making you stir from your rest. She sleepily curls her body into yours, peppering the warmest smooches wherever(probably with her eyes closed or half-way, at least) and muttering out apologies for waking you in the most ethereal voice known to woman-kind (it's raspy and the one she uses during sex when she's attempting to be a good top).

A/N: Thank you everyone for over 500 followers! I hope to post some longer fics this week or at least some more arcane fics. I promised some Jinx content, hopefully that'll be soon. Love you all.

[taylorklosscomeout138]

Where does swiftgron fit in your timeline? I thought kaylor was from 2012-13

I used to believe all love songs on Red had to be about Swiftgron because based on the Kaylor officially met in 2013 false narrative, it was impossible for songs to be about Karlie

But then I discovered the video where Taylor confirms she met Karlie at the 2008 Young Hollywood Awards so pretty much they lied about the entire tl to cover their tracks

(This is going to be a long wild ride but it's worth the read so please bare with me)

That led me to discover the 10000% proof that Begin Again is about Karlie because her full name and birth year is hidden on a car license plate in the MV. (That also led to me finding out many Red songs are about Karlie)

Taylor started officially dating Karlie in 2011, Kaylor began before Swiftgron. But by Summer of 2012 Kaylor and Swiftgron overlap. And thus we get the Folklore love triangle. "Chase 2 girls lose the 1" and she swears to Betty it was "just a summer thing"

(Which I need to fact check this for clarity, Betty August Rebekah are all Karlie. August is not a seperate person that was a bait and switch. Dianna Agron is Inez. The person Betty heard the rumours that James cheated from... how did Inez know if it was a secret? Because she was the other party in the affair. Inez derives from the Latin name AGnes)

Okay so back to "just a summer thing", well the actual confirmed Swiftgron timeline literally is called "The Swiftgron Summer" of 2012. So this makes it very obvious that the "summer thing" is when she started seeing Dianna despite being with Karlie. It is explained in Folklore that this ended their relationship initially

So now the timeline makes sm sense when you know How You Get The Girl was written about Taylor losing Karlie for 6 months due to this. And showing up to her doorstep to make it up to her after officially leaving Dianna in the Fall.

The 6 months would span the beginning of Summer, to November of 2012. I believe this is also why Red TV was released in Nov 2021. It is quite literally the same date, just rearranged.

So let's reflect back, because if Swiftgron really was only official in Summer of 2012 (which is also made apparent by Dianna and Lea Michele's timeline) and Red came out in Oct of 2012, then makes it impossible that Red songs could actually be about Dianna Agron besides the potential of a couple last minute love songs, but even then, albums are turned in months prior to the release.

Therefore, Red is likely only Liz Huett and Karlie Kloss. I was not apart of the fandom during Swiftgron, I joined way later, so I honestly do not understand how anyone ever concluded Red is about Swiftgron and didn't question that when even the masterpost makes it clear Swiftgron was mainly just a summer thing in 2012 and Dianna was with Lea Michele still in 2011. I can understand thinking Red was about her though based on just not having any other fitting muse due to the lie narrative about Kaylor.

But my friend even fact checked the one lyric on Red everyone thought to 100% be about Dianna from Holy Ground "I left a note on the door with a joke we made"

But the evidence comes from Dianna's birthday party at the end of April 2012. Whereas Taylor factually wrote Holy Ground in Feb 2012, 2 months prior to that.... which I also have no idea how that never got fact checked and was ran with.

I even believed it up until my friend told me about it a few weeks ago but that's because I've never looked into facts about the Swiftgron timeline much until finding out that the entire timeline as we knew it was a false public narrative timeline used to cover up Kaylor history of the past. So needless to say.... very shocking. And it changes everything

This basically means that Swiftgron doesn't even officially get a song until 1989- and even then it's half Karlie half Dianna as confirmed by Kimby Kloss in her messy era when she liked a post of someone saying YAIL is the Kaylor anthem and Wonderland is the Swiftgron anthem.

So there you have it. Honestly this isn't even beginning to scratch the surface because there is so many things about the timeline that have been misunderstood for so long.

Including that Enchanted off of Speak Now was the first ever song written about Karlie. It was just a fantasy song at the time, but the reason we all believed it to be about Emma Stone was because that's what she was going for. Why? Because when Taylor met Karlie for the first time in 2008 it was at the same time she met Emma Stone. The guy who introduced them said he brought Karlie and Emma over her to her at the same time. Hence why on Speak Now TV she coded Karlie as Emma with "When Emma Falls In Love".

I can definitely get into the breakdown of Red as to what songs are about Liz Huett and what songs are about Karlie if that's something you or anyone else would like! Me and my discord have already reassessed the whole album through this lens awhile ago

[lunarflux]

x: Thomas Shelby found his match in an information bookie who has eluded the grasp of the Peaky Blinders long enough to crumble their power over Birmingham. But at last, he found you. The ghost he'd been chasing was finally in front of him, but you were trickier than he expected. Dangerous, cunning - and a bit too much like himself. To buy your loyalty, he would have to sell his in equal measure. Loyalty for loyalty - blood for blood - how much were either of you willing to spill before the game changed entirely?

a/n: the slow burn is slow burning

part 10: the inevitable crash

word count: 3,048

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

The street was quieter than usual, the night cold and empty except for the occasional passerby. You made your way down the alley toward the Garrison, a slow, deliberate pace, your thoughts more on the events of the past days than the path ahead. The weight of the decision you made—though correct in your mind—Tommy’s amusement at your actions, the tension in the air between the two of you. It was a lot to carry, but it wasn't the first time you’ve found yourself with something weighing you down.

Just as you reached the corner, you heard footsteps behind you, quick, deliberate, the sound of boots on cobblestones. You instinctively reached for your knife—the concept that it could be Arthur or John trying to scare you crossed your mind. But when you turned, the figure that stepped out of the shadows was one you knew all too well.

Bingham.

The one who used to buy information from you. A man who’d never been above using others for his own gain, his reputation dark enough to send a ripple of unease through anyone who dealt with him. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. The familiar scar across his cheek caught the moonlight.

“You’re walking alone at this hour, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “Not a smart move, considering who’s still looking for your services.”

You stood firm, swallowing the minute flinch on your brow. “I’m not in that business anymore, Bingham.”

He stepped forward, eyes gleaming with a knowing, calculated glint. “You think I don’t know that?” He laughed softly, but there was something dangerous in it, something that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m not asking for your services, darling. I’m offering you a way back in. You’ve got a talent for finding things out. I remember what you're worth. I doubt the great Thomas Shelby and the Peaky Blinders really know.”

You met his gaze without hesitation. “I've kept my connections, Alfred. I've extended my kindness to the Blinders for a modest fee. I don't think anything else will be necessary.”

Bingham tilted his head, stepping closer. His voice quieted, but the threat was all too real, seeping through each word. “Don’t make me remind you what happened the last time you tried to play both sides, sweetheart. You’re a smart woman. Don’t let the Peaky Blinders loyalty cloud your judgment. It’s only a matter of time before they stop keeping you safe and start seeing you as a liability.”

Before you can respond, a sudden, sharp voice erupted from behind you.

“Come now, y/n. I started drinking without you.”

Tommy placed his hand on the back of your neck, his silhouette cutting through the dim light, standing with a calm, controlled presence that you knew so well. His eyes flickered down to you, then back to Bingham. There was no hesitation in his movement, no uncertainty. He was here, and his presence kept the unwelcome guest from getting any closer.

Bingham didn’t flinch, though the subtle tension in his jaw betrayed his irritation. “The Thomas Shelby,” he sneered. “Of all the people to come out and... Save the day. Surprised you didn't send one of your errand boys to fetch her. Didn't think she was worth a rope from the big man.”

Tommy stepped forward, guiding you with him, not bothering with any pretense of diplomacy. He looked down at the ground. His voice was cold, clipped. “You're standing on Blinders property.” He motioned with his hand. "All of this, those buildings. This pub. The rubble beneath your feet. And this woman—" His grip on your neck tightened. "—she's Blinders property as well."

Bingham’s eyes scanned Tommy's face, but he found no trace of humor. There was no doubt in his mind about the power Tommy wielded, especially with the way he stood tall, unwavering. There was a threat in Tommy’s voice that left no room for negotiation, and he knew it.

“I suppose this is where I bid you farewell, y/n,” Bingham muttered, though his bravado was quickly fading. “In time, we will see each other again. I'll make sure of it.”

Tommy didn’t react to the veiled threat. He just raised an eyebrow, his gaze unwavering. “Come around here without an invitation again, and your body will be beneath this rubble. And then you'll be my property, too.”

Bingham chuckled at Tommy's threat, but, with a final glance at you, he stepped back into the shadows, disappearing as quickly as he appeared. The tension lingered in the air long after he was gone.

Tommy stood there for a moment, his eyes still locked on the spot where Bingham vanished, his jaw tense. He took a slow breath, finally turning to face you.

“Are you alright?” he asked, the concern in his voice softer than usual, though his gaze remains sharp. His hand remained on your neck though his grip eased until it was a gentle hold.

You nodded. “You shouldn't have gotten involved.”

Tommy’s eyes narrowed briefly, a hint of something unreadable in them. “I don't know what that fucking was, but I meant what I said.” He paused, looking at you with a touch of seriousness in his eyes. “The Blinders don't take kindly to strangers on our property. Touching our things. And that includes you.”

You placed your hand on his wrist and eased it down. "I'm not your fucking property, Tommy. Don't think I didn't catch that."

"You're a Blinder now, are you not?"

You could tell there was more he wanted to say, but he didn’t. Instead, he gave you a quick, assessing glance before heading for the door of the Garrison.

“Let’s get inside,” he said. “It’s too cold out here for games. Even yours.”

You followed him, the weight of Bingham's warning still hanging in the air, but now you were sure of one thing: Tommy Shelby wouldn’t let anyone take what’s his. Not without a fight. And part of knowing that meant accepting that—even though you would fight to the death to deny it—he believed you were his, too.

Tommy pulled a chair for you and set up behind the bar. He didn't speak. You watched quietly as he popped open a fresh bottle of whiskey. He pulled two glasses, but as he was about to pour yours, you held up your hand.

"Gin tonight."

The confusion quickly washed over his face. He pulled a bottle of gin from below the counter and filled your cup with a couple of inches. He placed the bottle down with a thud and toasted to the air. An odd silence that you'd never experienced with him before drifted over the bar.

He'd look at you occasionally as you sipped your drink, and you returned the glance. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, but you knew something was brewing in his mind. Whatever he was thinking about, it was heavy. And though you didn't know the depth of it, you could tell he was carrying it alone.

"So, are you thinking about your big white wedding?" you asked quietly in an attempt to steer the conversation away from Bingham, letting the gin roll over your tongue. "A man who drinks in silence in a woman's company always has something like that on his mind."

Tommy didn't often look shocked, but when he did, it brought a smile to your face, knowing that you read him properly. This time, it wasn't the case.

"No," he whispered. "No white wedding. She wore purple."

For once, you hated that you were right. Though he said so little, the sadness beneath seeped into your skin. The news about his wife's death came to you via a drunk Blinder who sat beside you in a pub. Though, the information alone did not carry the weight of Tommy's loss, his melancholy tone said everything you needed to know. The aftermath of your business never returned the following day.

The gin rested against your lip long enough for the burn to turn into nothing. You couldn't leave the conversation this way, but you didn't know how far to push before he'd back down.

"What was her name?" you asked.

Tommy's eyes connected with yours. It was the only proper way to say her name, the only proper way to tell this story. And though the depth of this story had seemingly died with time, it never got any easier.

"Grace. Grace Shelby."

You lowered your gaze, the name of Tommy's ghost imprinting itself deep into your memory. "Do I need to ask if you loved her?"

"No, perhaps not."

You looked around the Garrison, motioning to the air with your glass. "And what did she think about all this? About you."

Tommy tilted his whiskey all the way back then swiftly poured himself another. "She loved me."

"That wasn't my question." You sat up straight and tapped the counter. "I asked what she thought about you."

Tommy stared at you as he processed what you were asking him. It wasn't a kind question. Or maybe, it was. You were being gentle with him, and that wasn't something he was used to. And if someone had tried, he probably didn't notice.

Grace had, until the end, hoped—expected—things would go right. And so he tried if only for her and her memory. He mourned. He wept—in private, but he still did nevertheless.

And now, here you were. Asking if he really knew what Grace wanted. He should have been insulted except your question didn't imply he was wrong. He knew what Grace thought about all of this. And damn if he didn't try.

"Can I ask you something else?"

"I don't think my permission would stop you regardless," he sighed.

"The way you were before her," you started, your voice low and soft, "are you that man again?"

Tommy's jaw tightened. Now, your questions were teetering on things he didn't know how to answer. He eyed you with caution as you raised your hand and rested it on the top button of his shirt.

"When a woman falls in love with a broken man—" You twisted your fingers, and the button came undone. "She finds you with your shirt open. Cold. Exposed. But you don't know any different because that's how it's always been. And then it happens—" Quietly, you refastened it. "—and suddenly you're warm and safe. She buttons you up and reminds you to take care of yourself."

You smiled softly, a kind contrast to his cold stare.

"And when that story comes to a close—" You tugged on his collar with a brief but strong pull, and the button came clean off. It clattered to the bar. You picked it up and held it in between your eyes and his. "—Either you're cold again or you're not."

Tommy took the button from your fingers and held it in his hand. Such a fragile token, he thought. If he played along with your line of thinking, he could throw it in the river and never be warm again. Or he could hold onto it and put himself together once more. He might never know which choice was the right one.

"Look, Tommy. I won't besmirch Grace's name by saying this, so I'll put it plainly." You reached your hand forward and rested it a few inches in front of his. "There are loves in our life that are meant to make us want more."

The faint image of a face formed in Tommy's mind. Grace's smile, the softness of her eyes. He saw it so clearly, greeting him again just as she had in his dreams for so long.

"There are those that make us want less."

Grace's smile turned blurry like a thick fog from the river drifted over, unkind and unwilling to let the light shine through

"There are those who wish us to be more than we are because they alone saw the potential, and those who wish us to be more than we're capable of."

Heavier and heavier, the fog took over her image.

"And then there is a love, only one love, that takes you as you are. As you were. As you ever will be. Because they take all of the shit, the broken pieces, the parts of us that are shattered beyond belief—and damn, they fucking love you anyway."

Until she was gone. Replaced by the sweet dew of vapors, overtaking the memories he held onto so dearly. Your words didn't force him to forget. Many tried and failed. No, you made him see it all differently, lifting the veil that love so crudely pulled over his eyes.

Tommy came out from behind the bar and stood before you, still turning the button between his fingers. His expression hadn't changed since you started speaking, a sign that he was processing all you had to say. If you were wrong, he might've stopped you. If you were right, then he wouldn't admit it.

What was it—that pull you felt? He felt it, too. The softness in Tommy's eyes tugged at you. The need, the desperation for comfort that he would never willingly seek—it was calling you, and you didn't understand why. Until now, he was your reflection, separated by the half-inch of glass in the mirror, but now the two images would coincide and pray they wouldn't shatter the other.

You expected him to flinch when you reached for his cheek, but instead, he accepted it. And you swore, just for a second, his eyes softened further as the warmth met his skin. He leaned into your palm with the briefest movement that could've easily been mistaken for a twitch. Before you could process what was happening, he mirrored you, his hand on your face, pulling you towards him until his temple rested against your cheek.

"You may call me a ghost, but ghosts only travel to those who call them." you whispered in his ear. "Maybe it's time you hang up, and just live."

The room felt like it was closing in around the two of you, the air crackling with the weight of unsaid words and the weight of every shared glance. Tommy was so close, so close you could feel his heartbeat pounding in sync with yours. The pull of him—this was what you expected, wanted even. You wanted the walls to come crashing down until he spilled out before you. The indestructible face of Tommy Shelby melted away for you at last.

Tommy pulled back and his eyes flickered to your lips for just a split second, the raw hunger in his gaze finally bubbling to the surface. He leaned in just enough that you could feel his breath ghosting over your lips, your noses brushing as he exhaled. You could taste the desperation, the cold loneliness on his breath.

That taste rolled over your tongue, and the second realization washed over you in an unfamiliar warmth. You hadn't just broken him down. You were reciprocating. The mirror of your hesitation, a fire ignited from two matches burning into char until plumes of smoke poured out into the sky. Both your pieces on the board were at a standstill, locked in a face off that could only end in the two of you being taken out of the game entirely.

His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair, pulling you just a little closer—closer than you'd had ever been. His lips hovered above yours, his gaze never breaking from your eyes.

As the space between you disappeared, the door to the Garrison slammed open.

“Tommy?” Arthur’s voice cut through the thick tension like a dagger.

Tommy stiffened, his eyes still locked on yours, but there was a flash of annoyance, a flash of something—something dangerous and almost angry—that passed over his face. He didn’t want to break this. He didn’t want to stop, but reality was harsh. Arthur’s sudden entrance slammed you both back into it.

Your breath faltered, and in that split second, when everything had been on the verge of shattering, you felt something cold rush over you. A rush of self-preservation, an instinctive retreat. Without a word, you pulled back from Tommy’s grip, your heart racing in your chest.

The heat lingered, still hanging heavy in the air, but it suddenly felt distant. You didn’t know how to explain it, how to admit how close you had come to meeting him down in the place where you forced him to stay—and you hated yourself for it. You couldn't let him see even though you'd both emerged from the same pool.

“Arthur,” you said, your voice colder than you'd intended, a mask sliding back over your emotions. “You’ve got a damn good timing.”

Tommy, still standing where you left him, didn’t speak. His jaw clenched, a muscle twitching in his cheek. He didn’t want to show how much he wanted to follow you, how much he wanted to pull you back into the moment that had slipped through his fingers. But he kept it in check. He had to.

Arthur looked from Tommy to you, his eyes narrowing. He saw the shift in the air, the way you were both too quiet, too controlled, like something had just cracked wide open and was now trying to fix itself. He could feel it in the room—the heat, the power play, the way you had both come so close to something irreversible.

But no one knew who had the upper hand.

Arthur cleared his throat awkwardly, but there was something in his eyes—a protective concern—for both of you. You wouldn't give him the chance to ask. Not now.

“Goodnight,” you snapped, turning on your heel and heading toward the door.

He nodded once, a silent acknowledgment. Then, almost as an afterthought, you glanced back, your movements deliberate.

"For the next deal, I’ll stay hidden. That’s what you expect, right?" Your words were laced with the same sharpness as before, but this time, there was something else behind them. It was the understanding that however this would play out, whichever of you was the first to slip further than intended—that one mistake could break you both.

The moment was broken, and so was your composure.

[pleasantinternetperson]

In the end, he's always drawn back to her.

---

The aftermath of the battle is terrible.

There are bodies littered everywhere, glassy-eyed and unseeing.

And he is nos stranger to it, to the terrible presence of death, but it-

It still hurts.

---

Vi's screams will haunt him to his dying day.

Her grief is so raw and angry he has to look away, and the words that spill from her lips over and over as she clutches at the ledge are ones he has thought countless times.

It's not fair it's not fair IT'S NOT FAIR-

He knows what happened.

(She's-)

(How-)

(How can she be-)

(After everything-)

(Just like that?)

---

Ekko is the one who hauls Vi to safety before the beam collapses.

She's quiet. Numb, he thinks.

A part of him wants to stay with her.

But he can't. He can't stay here another second or he's sure he won't be able to take one more breath.

(She's really gone-?)

(Jinx?)

(...Powder?)

---

For the first time in his life, the undercity is quiet.

He doesn't even notice, not really, until much later.

He walks through the streets and sees everything Zaun could've been.

He sees Mylo and Claggor in the shadowed corners of their old haunts.

He sees Vi teaching him how to throw a punch in every crack of a wall.

He sees Benzo in the window of every run-down shop of wares.

He sees Vander in the wreckage of The Last Drop.

And everywhere, everywhere, he looks, he sees her.

---

He doesn't know how many times he stops her from detonating the bomb.

Her eyes look so empty.

And it breaks him inside that this girl who used to be so full of life wanted nothing more to do with it after the world took everything from her.

She has caused so much pain and suffering, has continued the cycle of violence by those left before them.

She's well within her rights to want to leave.

But he knows for a fact there's a life where things could be better.

There's a life out there where Zaun thrives because of her.

There's a life where she's happy.

And he'll be damned if he can't make that life a reality, no matter how many times he needs to turn back the clock.

She traces the edge of her bomb, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Just let me die."

He stands.

Her grip tightens.

"No."

She scoffs, though there's no real heat to it.

"Why do you care?"

Because he doesn't want this to be the end for her. Because he knows she can do so much more. Because even under all the anger and pain and grief that makes her now, there's still a chance for her to be that girl from another world.

Because he might just have fallen in love with her.

But most of all-

"Because you're worth saving."

---

He ends up making a mural for her in her workshop. There are many that pop up all over the undercity once the news gets around but...

This one is for him.

To remember her not as the tragic hero who managed to unite Zaun, but for his friend who died.

(He could've saved her.)

The Z-Drive looks up at him darkly whenever this thought comes over him, and his fingers twitch over the dials.

But he doesn't do it.

He sees Heimerdinger's face every time he does.

---

Vi comes to see the mural.

He lights flickering candles and has some of her leftover bits and bobs all over the place - a monkey head here and an old tool there.

He's drawn pictures of her from when they were young, from when they grew apart and puts on paper what he imagined she would've looked like older.

And tucked away in a small corner is the drawing of what she looked like in that other world.

That's the one that draws her sister's attention.

Vi's fingers ghost over the pencil lines, almost reverent.

"...I would've loved to see her like this."

Ekko sighs, not looking at her as he runs a hand through his hair.

His eyes land on a drawing of Powder and Vi, arms looped around each other, young and bright-eyed and joyous.

"Yeah. You would've."

---

Another part of him died with her, he thinks.

Because he knows that grief never really goes away.

It leaves him gasping for air at night and reaching for someone who isn't there when his own mind taunts him with all the what-ifs, and could've been.

Sometimes it leaves him with the memory of her lips pressing against his own, her fingers on the side his face gently.

He hates those ones most.

---

(But really, he'd give anything for the chance to do it again.)

---

What gets to him the most is that he could've saved everybody.

If he had been smarter, of he had figured out faster none of this would've happened.

And the thought crashes into him so hard and fast sometimes, and leaves him with a rage that makes him want to hit anything in sight it makes him sick to his stomach he almost destroys her mural.

He yells and screams and grieves for everyone he's lost, this boy saviour who took the world upon his shoulders.

And at the last second, just as he has his weapon ready to ruin everything, realization rushes through him and he falls to his knees.

She looks at him through the drawings, frozen and smiling.

Finally, he sobs.

I could've saved you.

---

It gets better. Eventually.

He helps with clean-up efforts in the undercity, travels up topside on occasion when Vi needs a hand with something, but sticks to himself for the most part.

While he's helping clear another fallen building a pair of kids bump into him. They're young, and only laugh for a second at their mishap before rushing off again.

He hopes they can live like that for the rest of their childhood.

He wants to make sure they can.

---

It takes a while before he goes up to the rooftop. Their rooftop.

When the grief isn't a raging, alive thing inside his chest anymore and settles deep inside of him instead.

He takes a seat in the edge, and lets his leg dangle in the air.

He breathes in.

(I could've saved you.)

It's recurring thought, now. Always in the back of his mind.

(I could've saved you.)

In another world, there was a happy ending. He hopes.

In another world, there isn't years of resentment and death and violence between them.

In another world he takes her to a party where they dance their hearts out and have the time of their lives.

In another world, they are sitting up here, and he kisses her first.

(I could've saved you.)

Ekko breathes out.

He lets the thought go.

(I'm sorry I couldn't save you.)

(I wanted to.)

(I really did.)

He hopes that wherever she is now she's happy. Or simply at peace, and able to rest from the life she's had.

And something in him feels a little bit lighter.

---

Later, when he gets back to the workshop, something catches his eye near the mural.

A piece of paper, gently blowing in the wind, trapped under a rock.

It's curiosity, more than anything, that leads him to pick it up. It seems too deliberately placed.

Unfolding it, Ekko keeps an eye on his surroundings in case this is somebody's idea of a trap, one hand around his weapon.

Then his heart drops.

It's a map.

And there are bright, colourful lines, squiggles, doodles-

A marked 'X' not too far beyond Piltover, and a message written beside it in haphazard fashion.

(It-)

(It can't-)

(She's-)

(Is she-?)

(Jinx-)

(...Powder?)

You gonna pay me a visit, boy saviour?

[iamzer0]

𝙂𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙪𝙥 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙁𝙚𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙣

Yandere platonic Feitan

You and feitan weren’t blood related, but you had grown up together as siblings.

Before he met the troupe he had met you, you were in a small wedge between some fallen rubble and the ground.

It wasn’t comfortable but it was safe.

You didn’t speak Feitans language but understood it.

You and him survived together, sharing the warmth and little food y’all had.

You and him stumbled across the troupe, at the time they were just a group of friends.

Y’all had integrated into the small group, it was a strange life but y’all were safe for the most part.

You loved Feitan with all your heart he was the only family you ever had.

But you absolutely hated how possessive he could get.

You always had to stay by him and only him, were he went you followed unless it was dangerous then you had to stay back.

You wanted to fight, to show your worth but he would never let you.

His presence around you become increasingly suffocating as y’all grew.

You never really talked much, you never needed too. You made simple gestures with your hands to communicate.

Like your own made up sign language.

Two hands clasped together pointed down meant you were bothered or upset. Two hands pointed up meant you were ok or at peace.

It had for the most part been a normal day.

Feitan and you had went out to retrieve an item that was sought after on the black market for its rarity.

As you and Feitan walked down the street you looked around at the various people, places, items etc.

You never strayed once but Feitan saw you looking around and took hold of your wrist forcing you to stay shoulder to shoulder with him.

Once again you were reminded of his possessive tendencies.

You absolutely hated it, you couldn’t do anything with him firmly planted to your side.

As he retrieves the artifact, you were standing on the side like always. You were thinking about how unfair it was, why did he get do all these cool jobs and you do jackshit.

He treated you like an incapable toddler, even though you had only been a couple yrs younger.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by Feitan grabbing your wrist leading you, this signaled he was done and y’all are leaving.

You pulled back your wrist.

He turned back to look at you, you quickly signed with your makeshift sign language.

The gist of what you were saying was ‘why don’t you left me do anything’ you were quick and angry with your signing.

“Let’s go” he said in a cold tone.

You tried to protest but you were pulled by your wrist, hard.

You tried pulling away, but he simply tightened his grip.

Y’all had arrived at the hideout, he passed off the item too Machi.

The second he let go of you, you walked of stomping the entire way.

“What’s up with them?” Shalnark asked Feitan,

Feitan didn’t answer, simply speed walking to were you were.

He couldn’t understand your anger, you had no reason to be angry. At least that’s what he thought.

Most of the troupe was gathered in the main area, that’s were you had walked too.

You were currently leaning against one of the rocks, when Feitan walked in.

He walked up to you, but you didn’t not want to face him you got up and turned away attempting to walk off.

He grabbed your shoulder, you shook him off.

But he suddenly grabbed you turning you to face him.

As this was unfolding the troupe grew quiet, watching y’all.

You quickly signed something, they had no idea what you were signing, but by your quick hands and angry look they could tell it wasn’t good.

He responded in a language they didn’t know, his response roughly translated to ‘you aren’t ready, your too young’

You signed back quicker and angrier, ‘I am ready! You never let me do anything’ you were angry, and determined to make him listen.

He responded again in his native tongue, ‘i protect you, I make sure you are safe, isn’t that enough’

You go back and forth, until he puts down his foot saying again in his native language, ‘you will listen to what I say, you. Are. Not. Ready.’ He said roughly.

For the first time in a long time, you spoke. Blurting out “I HATE YOU” you yell, voice raspy from not speaking all these years.

The entire room is silent, Feitan eyes wide.

You have never spoken this way, ever. It was a shock them all, especially Feitan.

Tears weld in your eyes, not from sadness from anger.

At that moment you hated everyone especially Feitan.

You walked away, hurriedly.

Feitan was standing there frozen in shock.

You had fallen asleep against the wall of your shared room, I bet you can take a wild guess on who you share it with.

Feitan walked in careful to not alert you that he was there.

In one swift motion he bent down, and shoved a needle in your neck, you woke for a brief second due to the pain, then quickly fell back a sleep.

He quickly in one motion stood up, you in his arms bringing you to his bed.

He had chained you to the bed post, making sure you couldn’t slip out by any means.

He sat by you, staring at you.

He was lost in thought, you were his family.

You couldn’t hate him, it wasn’t possible. You were just moody that was the only explanation.

He knew deep down that you would leave the first chance you got and he couldn’t take that risk.

You would understand eventually, he knew you would.

Im sorry this took so long I’m traveling to see family rn so I’ve been busy. I am working on a story but it’s taking me longer than I thought. Anyway imma stay on that grind trust. Love u all so much bye bye(((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o)))♡

[iambic-stan]

Welp, something happened the other day. A friend started messaging me that they were at a relative's echo appointment and proceeded to send me videos of the screen and descriptions of what was going on. They surprised me by talking poetically about the motion of heart valves. My brain partially melted at this. I got all caught up in the conversation and before I knew it...I'd gone online and ordered an Eko Core 500. Was that kind of stupid, considering the cost? I mean, yeah. But...will it be worth it in the end? I suspect as much. It came in yesterday!

I really love green. I wish the whole damn thing was green, but we can't have it all. I had a chance to use it last night and the EKG (not gonna pretend I can actually interpret one) worked well against bare skin and the heart rate monitor was fun to watch. I have a feeling those things will just be a novelty to me and not something I'll want every time I use a scope, but that's just me. It's more about the sound, the feeling of the stethoscope, and the closeness of it all for me. But those features are nifty for sure. The sound is comparable to my Thinklabs One. Also, I tried plugging in the headphones I use for my Thinklabs One to this chest piece and that works beautifully. Over the ear headphones are more comfortable than wearing binaurals, though these are fairly comfortable anyway, as binaurals go.

Cons: You have to run the Eko app to use this thing. Unnecessarily lame and proprietary, IMO. It's a free app that I went ahead and downloaded but I'm holding a bit of a grudge. You should be able to use a stethoscope, even get heart rate stats and all that, without having to run an app. Standard access to the app features was included with purchase, and I had zero interest in buying a premium subscription, but just FYI, that's how you get access to the AI features like afib detection. Another thing--it's a bit too easy to press the buttons while you're trying to use it. I accidentally turned the volume all the way down while listening, for example. Took me a second to figure out what in the world had happened.

[tumblingxelian]

Oh I have been looking FORWARD to this!!!

Excellent in media res opening, you get us into Fu's insecurities & head-space so smoothly and his ensuing logic, along with setting up Trixx's gambit which I am super curious about to say the least!

As before, more excellent in media res, flashbacks are hard to use but you set it up so smoothly without disrupting the frantic nature of the fight or how off balance Marinette is without a partner this early in her career. It makes sense Marinette's just been low key happy but also not noticing Chloe's absence from her life and is only keying in now, the little details are nice touches as Marinette is a very detail oriented person but one with a heavy reliance on her gut.  Chloe's continuing meltdown outside of the façade Purrge allows her to keep up came off really well, the "I know, I suck!" aspect was especially telling, I like Bustier making an effort though clearly being out of her depth given the circumstances. Also gosh, Chloe hissing XD

Adrien: So the Cat Miraculous does make us behave more like cats! Plagg: No, no I do not, don't pin this on me kid. Chloe: (Climbing to the highest place to hiss at people more)

Also nice to see the rest of the class showing some agency and activity on their own without prompting from the MCs, and that whole bit with Marinette nominating Alya only to realize Alya wasn't gonna nominate her was great, I loved their dialogue exchange they are so witty and fun and oooh the confused ball of Adrien feelings, I love it!

Solid break out from the flashback too, and a very smooth introduction with Fu, I love her not realizing his age due to the Miraculous mask effect and his dialogue. I dunno, I just really like how you write his manner of speech. Also more Adrien feels! Fu's method of just leaving Miraculous with people who's vibes are right may come back to bite him XD

"That which was not known could not be pursued, much less caught."

As before I love the distinct manner in which he comes off with, everyone has their own voices, but Fu's is perhaps the most distinct which makes sense given his age and life experience. Sewer Hat Boy, another victim of the Miraculous mask effect and I love the manner in which Chloe is described, very much feels like a feline in human form. The fight itself was awesome, Fu's general nervousness really did not serve him well (Overall) in this fight, constantly over-thinking and fretting and then losing himself in a flashback while Chloe's turned off everything but fight mode. The swapping of the Cataclysm was an inspired idea and gods:

“Five minutes left to show you just how big of a mistake you’ve made.”

Is such a badass line and mental image!!!

Great intro with Adrien's scene, smoothly setting up Nino's upcoming presence and I love the Marinette ramble slipping out as Ladybug! Also gosh his minimal self worth and wow, thinking he can get the Black Cat back even without a Miraculous of his own, optimism bordering on delusion there I'm afraid.

Very swift intro with the Snake and Aspik, it makes sense to skip it even if I was curious, also love Marinette oscillating between her LB person and Marinette vibes. Also oh dear, he went with the bald cap again and aaaah you fools why did you separate, that didn't work out last time now did it!?

Holy fuck that was brutal, easily her most heartbreaking Adrien chapter, this whole experience is borderline cosmic horror in terms of vibes as a thousand truths overlay and his perceptions crumble, heavy stuff! "Would that have been what made her give it back?" That is still your focus my boi?!

Nino is such a ride or die guy, I love him, great sensation work for Adrien and oooh setting up a future conversation that I really wanna see!

& Trixx is here, to make us all cheer, because oh so many questions now rear! I lost the rhyming scheme but suffice to say excellent lead out location, loved all of this! 

Crossing Blades: An ML Fanfic Chapter 1 of 3

Next installment in my Chloe goes back in time AU! Link to AO3, then full text of the chapter below the cut.

Crossing Blades

The warning continued to blare on the ancient radio. It almost overrode the sounds of panic coming through the thin windows and walls of the backroom apartment. Wang Fu paced like a caged animal, twisting the bracelet on his wrist over and over. Beside him Wayzz hung in the air, concerned but silent.

Master Fu stopped in place, eyes narrowed at some unseen ghosts of the past, or future. “I must act. Wayzz, shell on!”

In a flash of green, casual clothing was replaced with armor and mask. Jade Turtle stepped up to the gramophone with determination in his manner. Tap, taptap, tap. Out came the miracle box.

Ignoring the two that remained on the top layer, he reached into a side drawer and took out the snake miraculous. He paused only once, turning away with the green band in hand. Is this the correct path? A life of running had not prepared him for a fight.

Without looking back, Jade Turtle closed the miracle box. The snap of the lid renewed his flagging conviction. This was right. He could bring things back under control and set them in balance once more.

If only he had looked back, he might have seen the fox tail necklace judder and bounce. He might have seen it hop from the box and hook itself to the back of his belt. He might have seen the little fox kwami blinking into existence, the culprit behind the jewelry’s odd behavior, then blink out again.

But, he did not.

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

Ladybug ducked between two buildings. She had no idea if the narrow alleyway was a dead end, she just needed breathing room. Squads of black armored knights marched up and down the streets, attacking anyone caught outside at will. Dark clouds painted the sky, casting everything into deep shadows.

She believed the source to be at city hall, a new akuma -of course- but she needed more to go on. She also needed a partner. She was *this* close to wishing for the Miraculous thief to show up, just to have someone watch her back against the legion of minions this akuma commanded.

To think, this morning had seemed like such a big deal only a few hours ago.

“Good morning everyone. Before we start for today, it’s time to elect your class representative.” Ms. Bustier had spoken in a chipper but uncertain tone. She gestured to Chloé in the front seat, “Chloé, I haven’t heard from Sabrina yet, but can we count on the two of you again this year?”

“What?” a muddled reply came, “No, ugh. I don’t want to be stupid representative anymore. Someone else do it.”

That had brought Marinette out of her own thoughts. Chloé had been weird lately, but Marinette had had her own problems to deal with. However, passing up prestige, not being the bigwig in the room? That was something else entirely. Marinette looked down at the back of Chloé’s head. Was the ponytail frizzed today? There was body language there that felt off, the set of her shoulders wasn’t right. Marinette had gotten good at reading Chloé’s moods in self defense.

Ms. Bustier’s lips made a surprised ‘oh’ and she looked up,”Well does anyone else want to run for the position?”

The kind of absolute silence that can only come from asking for a volunteer echoed back at her.

Ms. Bustier clasped her hands and tried again, “Chloé, why not be representative again this year? You know the most about it. You’re right here at the front of the room too. If things are a bit hectic, I’m sure we can work something out…”

“I said No!” Chloé slammed her palms down on the desk and stood up so fast Sabrina fell off the bench as it moved. “If being at the front means I have to do it, FINE!”

She grabbed her bag and stalked back to the rear of the room. All eyes followed her but no one dared say a word. Rose scooted closer to Juleka. Ivan’s brows lowered as she passed. Nathaniel’s eyes began to widen as she approached his desk.

*Thump* She shoved her bag onto it. Nathaniel’s eyes darted, he seemed paralyzed. Chloé’s face flushed for a moment then she grabbed his sketchbook from the desk.”You sit in the front now!”

The hurled sketchbook opened in mid-flight like a wounded bird, flapping and spinning until it landed on the front desk then skittered off the other side to the floor. Ms. Bustier’s eyes tracked its entire flight. There was one more beat of silence then she looked up.

“Ms. Bourgeois, that is no way to-”

“I know I know. I suck, whatever. Shut up. I’m in the back now, I can’t be the rep. Someone else do it.” Chloé dropped herself onto the bench beside Nathaniel, who fell off the other side, scrambling to escape.

He scuttled down to the front. Ms. Bustier met him and handed him his sketchbook with a gentle, ”Please put this away during the lesson, Nathaniel.” before looking up to the back. “Ms. Bourgeois, see me after class.”

An honest to God hiss was her answer to that.

Ms. Bustier quickly replaced the serene mask she normally wore, “So, it appears the field is indeed wide open. Would no one else like to take the reins and lead our class to the future?”

Alya’s elbow dug lightly into Marinette’s side. “You should do it,” her friend whispered.

Marinette bit her lip. It would be work, more work on top of Ladybug. She didn’t want to let anyone down either. She was always late, even before the miraculous. Surely someone else could do it, right?

“I don’t have time. Why don’t you try it?” Marinette whispered back.

“La-dy Blog,” Alya sing-songed. “Come on, maybe you could get Adrien to be your assistant.”

That sparked a whole ball of feelings. Imagined black cat ears popped into being atop Adrien’s head in Marinette’s mind. Adrien, Cat Noir, a chance to be partners again?

“Mylene!” Alix broke the silence that had settled again.

The redhead gave the girl beside her a friendly shove.

“You’re always into political stuff. Why don’t you do it?”

Mylene smiled for a second before shrinking in her seat. “I umm, don’t know. I’ve never actually been in charge of anything before.”

Alix leaned grinned down at Ms. Bustier, “I nominate Mylene! We can do that, right?”

The relief was clear on the teacher’s face, “Yes! Yes of course, nominations are allowed, though they need to be accepted.”

“Cool. Then that. I nominate. Come on, Mylene. Show us what you got.”

After a look towards Ivan, and another downcast fidget in her seat, Mylene finally nodded.

Marinette sagged with relief. That was taken care-

Alya’s voice, “Well, I nomi-”

A storm of images hit Marinette. Pressure, uncertainty, working with Adrien, not working with Adrien. Mylene working with Adrien, of all the oddball things.

She shot to her feet, “I nominate Alya!”

There was a general classwide blink.

Ms. Bustier nodded, “Alya, would you accept?”

Alya missed a beat, but recovered. “Yeah, sure. That way we get an election, right?” She leaned around Marinette, “We’ll highlight important issues with our speeches, right Mylene?”

Mylene brightened, “Yes, of course!”

There was a general murmur of excitement. Marinette took her seat again, giving Alya a smug look before whispering, “Beat you to it.”

Alya raised an eyebrow. “Girl, I was gonna nominate Adrien. You already said you didn’t want to. I figured it could work the other way too.”

Marinette’s triumphant smile melted into sadness. She slumped face first onto the desk. Alya patted her gently on the back.

“I dunno what about Mr. Modelpants does it for you, but I was trying to help.”

Marinette mumbled against the wood, “You got my vote.” She pushed herself upright and looked down to the row in front of them. “He just seems… nice. I think he deserves a chance.”

Alya’s snort was anything but subtle, “A chance with you, that is quite a reward.”

Marinette went instantly red. “I didn’t- I mean-”

Alya laid a hand on her shoulder, “Relax, girl. I got you.”

“You can speak at my funeral when I die of embarrassment,” Marinette groused.

“I will move the crowds to tears.” Alya nodded solemnly.

Much needed giggles slipped from Marinette’s lips. A sharply cleared throat cut her reply short though.

“Miss Cesaire, you will be ready to deliver your speech in the morning?” Ms. Bustier asked pointedly.

Alya saluted. “Yes Ma’am.”

At the time it had all seemed so important.

Breather over, Ladybug considered her options. She wasn’t even sure where the akuma was. City Hall seemed a good bet. The roving packs of armored warriors were a risk. One on one, she trusted her miraculous enhanced reflexes, but five on one? Ten? She wished for Cat Noir. In a moment of weakness she even felt she would settle for the thief. She needed someone to watch her back. She needed a partner.

A flash of motion -above!- Ladybug lashed out and dodged.

Spang!

Her yo-yo rebounded off the wide-brimmed metal hat of a green glad warrior. “Hold, Ladybug! I am ally, not foe!”

Ladybug kept her yo-yo at the ready. “Ally? Who are you?”

He raised his head, revealing the green mask and a smile. “I am the Guardian of the Miraculous. You may call me Jade Turtle.”

She sized him up quickly. Her height, her age? It was impossible to tell much from behind a mask. He held himself with poise, but also hunched like his namesake, as if awaiting a blow. “Guardian? What is that? Do you know what’s going on?”

He bowed his head a fraction, “I do, and I will share what I can with you once the crisis has passed. I have brought you the means to garner an ally in this battle.”

He unhooked a small box from his belt and opened it. Inside lay an unassuming bracelet of Jade.

“This is the Miraculous of the snake, which holds the power of intuition. It will allow the wearer to loop time, up to five minutes, to find the correct path to victory. Give it to one you trust.”

Adrien. The name popped instantly into Ladybug’s mind. She could have her partner back. She reached for the box but paused. “Will you be fighting with us too?”

Jade Turtle shook his head, “I am here to reclaim what is lost. I expect the black cat will make an appearance, and I will be ready. It is vital the miraculous not fall into the wrong hands.”

Ladybug took the box. Something nagged the back of her mind, but it didn’t translate properly and only, “Are you sure?” left her lips.

Jade Turtle nodded and ran his fingers along the brim of his metal hat. “Yes, almost as sure as I was in choosing you to be Ladybug.”

With that he turned and vaulted up out of the alley to the rooftops.

The box was heavy in Ladybug’s hand as her eyes lingered after the only person with any answers to her questions. Adrien. I can get this to Adrien. No rooftops for me though. I can’t risk being seen and followed.

Ladybug checked the end of the alleyway and then scurried back towards school, and she hoped, an ally.

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

Jade Turtle moved quickly as possible, keeping to the shadows. Avoiding being seen was still an ingrained habit. That which was not known could not be pursued, much less caught. The city swarmed with units of armored knights marching in formations. They were a concern, but also, he suspected, the perfect bait. His instincts proved correct. Commotion, running soldiers, and sounds of battle drew him to his quarry. 

The new holder of the black cat stood in a swath of carnage. Fallen knights littered the ground like leaves, but there was a lull. Only one knight still stood, sword held robotically en garde against her.

Jade Turtle's eyes scanned the scene quickly. He broke cover, “No! Wait!”

Too late. The black cat moved, slipping the knight's stiff guard and lashing out. Claws tore metal and everything beneath with equal ease. The knight crumpled into the pile.

“You! You! They are being controlled by the akuma! They are innocent people!”

She seemed to register only slowly. Feline disinterest painted across her sharp features. “Who are you supposed to be? Sewer Hat Boy?”

He raised his own guard as he approached. He knew better than to trust the languid curiosity in those mismatched eyes. “My name is unimportant. My purpose is to reclaim the black cat from you. You are not the one destined to hold it.” He directed a pointed glance down to the fallen bodies. “And you paint yourself unworthy by deed as well.”

She tilted her head slowly, then kicked the body at her feet. “They’ll be fine once stupid Ladybug does her thing. As for my miraculous, oh just you try to take it.”

Jade Turtle steeled himself and dropped into a fighting stance. “As you wish. These bones may be old, but they know many secrets.”

With the moment at hand Jade Turtle hesitated, how best to attack? He must strip the ring from her hand. Protection would be the key. He cou-

There was no warning in her eyes, no tension in her stance, none of the things he had learned to look for. She dropped into a hunched run, legs powering her into a lurching drunken charge that devoured the space between them.

Jade turtle jerked backwards. A clawed swipe slashed through the air where his throat had been. Another lunged for his eyes.

Block. Block. Redirect. Turn. Clear roo- no she was on him again. Catch. Twist. Her whole body moved as bonelessly as her namesake, spinning her whole body in the air around the pivot of his wristlock. Her claw toed boot scored lines in his metal hat.

Jade Turtle tried to disengage. He just needed space, time. She dogged his every move. He was being chased again, chased across the street just as he had been chased his whole life. Flashbacks warred with reality. His foe lunged and it wasn’t a child, it was a grown man in a black leather uniform with a very different meaning. Jade Turtle had been helpless then, he wasn’t now.

He lashed out and struck the man a deeply deserved killing blow to the sternum. Contact evaporated the memory. The child collapsed the ground in its place, but rebounded impossibly.

“So that’s how it is…” She gritted through clenched fangs. “Cataclysm!”

He’d lost control! Dodge. Dodge. Stagger. Dodge. Dodge. Backpedal. Something in that heterochromic gaze dredged up every fear from his two centuries of running. He couldn’t- he needed- She wouldn’t give him room.

“Protection!”

Instinct took over when reason fled. He met her next swipe and caught her just inside the wrist. The turtle Miraculous did the rest. A bubble of Green around that black death-clad hand.

He panted, keeping her wrist held firmly. ”Now… I’ve got you. Surrender. You can not-”

The Cataclysm vanished.

Motion.

Jade Turtle flinched and it saved his life.

Her free hand came around, sparking with destruction. It met the dipping edge of his shield hat and blasted it apart in an instant. The feedback robbed him of his senses and strength. Jade turtle fell. He sensed more than saw the shadow looming over him.

“Five minutes left to show you just how big of a mistake you’ve made.”

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

The difference five minutes could make; a million times over.

“Adrien!”

Adrien skidded to a stop at the sound of that voice. He cast a quick glance back over his shoulder, it looked like he had finally lost them. He turns his gaze skyward just as Ladybug landed beside him.

She unclipped a small box from her hip as she straightened up, holding it out.  “Am I glad to see you! I looked at your house first and you weren’t there, so then I checked the school. You weren't there either, so I tried all the streets in between and-”

She paused, withdrawing the box slightly.

“What are you doing out here?”

Adrien looked down, rubbing the back of his head. “Well, I thought, I mean I hoped, maybe I might still be useful. If I could, maybe at least find the akuma and report back.”

Or find Chloé and get the cat back. Or anything just to not be a disappointment. Well, not a disappointment to her. He was pretty sure Alya and Nino wouldn’t be happy with him for running off. He had glimpsed Nino running after him, even.

Ladybug made a soft sound in her throat, “Adrien, you’re amazing,” his heart swelled, “I don’t want you to be running around without a miraculous though. It’s dangerous out here. It’s a miracle you haven’t been caught and turned into one of these knight-zombie things. That’s why-”

Adrien looked up, sure the axe would fall now. He couldn’t account for the color on Ladybug’s cheeks, or the softness when she held the box out again.

“That’s why I’ve got something for you. It’s the snake Miraculous. With it you can help me again. We can defeat this akuma, get back your miraculous, and stop Hawkmoth!”

She’d laid out the snake’s powers. Sass had been more reserved than Plagg, but polite. When Adrien had transformed into Aspik he’d thought he’d caught Ladybug giggling behind her hand, but she flashed him a big smile nonetheless. She even rubbed his new costume’s smooth head ‘for Luck’. The plan was simple, split up and circle City Hall north and south. See what could be seen and meet up on the other side.

That had been less than ten minutes ago.

It had been months ago.

Aspik had spotted Chloé midway through his sweep. She ran on rooftops, wielding the power of the black cat, his power. The power he’d lost. He had the perfect chance to get it back, as many chances as needed. Aspik had activated Second Chance and altered his course. He couldn’t fail.

Reset. Come from the right. Reset. Try the left. Reset. Try reasoning. Reset. Threatening. Reset. Bargaining. Reset. Fight. Reset. Angry. Reset. Screaming. Reset. Go for the ring. Reset. Go for a knockout. Reset. Try to call Ladybug. Reset. Ladybug arrives on her own and catches a cataclysm. Reset. Reveal who he is. Reset. Again. Reset. Again. Reset. Reset. Reset. He’s hanging over the edge of a roof, danglinging from her grip on his wrist. The last light is blinking on the bracelet. He can’t reach- She smirks and twists the bracelet for him. Reset. Reset. Reset. Something is happening. Reset. The world feels thin. Reset. Spots at the edges of his vision. Reset. No, spots in the sky. Reset. Destruction. Reset. Cataclysm lingering. Reset. Wearing away these five minutes like a thread pulled back and forth through the eye of a needle too many times. Reset. He can’t fail! Reset. He has to prove- Reset. To Ladybug. Reset. He is-

Falling…

He can’t remember what he said this time. He can’t remember who threw the first punch. A thousand thousand truths overlap and spill out, covering his senses.  There’s only one consistency. He lost, again.

Aspik hits the pavement hard. A storm of black lightning tears at the sky for three, two, one. The snake Miraculous chirps one last warning and powers down. The storm vanishes. Time, no longer abused, marches on. It leaves him behind again. Chloé didn’t even spare him the benefit of a backward glance this time. Would it have even mattered if she did? Would seeing him defeated by her hand again have been the right or wrong thing to do? Would it have made her pause? Would that have been what made her give it back?

He feels numb. The street is a too-hard bed but he feels like he could sleep for a decade if he just closed his eyes. The overcast clouds no longer threaten the end, but are still a reminder of the akuma at large.

“Adrien!” Nino’s voice is so out of place it takes a moment for Adrien to recognize it.

Adrien turns his head, still not ready to move beyond that, to watch his friend rushing headlong down the empty street. Nino? Why are you here? It’s dangerous. Too dangerous.

“Dude! Are you okay? Can you stand?” Nino drops to one knee and tries to haul Adrien to his feet.

The answers quickly present themselves. No, and No. Adrien is beyond exhausted. His legs won’t hold him. He stumbles into Nino. His throat feels like sandpaper. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you, dude.” Nino loops Adrien’s arm over his shoulders and tries to take on more of the weight. Adrien’s legs still aren’t cooperating.

Ha. Hero saved by a civilian. But then, what’s the difference? Adrien found the strength to push Nino off gently, but not the strength to keep standing once he had. He sat down hard, but pulled the Snake Miraculous off his wrist.  A weary Sass sprang into being, hovering low in the air.

Nino blinked, ”Dude?”

Adrien waved him off with a floppy hand. “No time. Ladybug needs help. Defeat the Akuma. Tell Sass ‘Scales Slither.’ Bracelet resets things. Five minutes tops. Help Ladybug.”

Nino’s eyes darted between Sass and the bracelet Adrien was holding out in a trembling hand. Shock and fear each had a turn, but determination was right on their heels. He took the bracelet from Adrien’s hand, “I’ll try.”

Adrien remembered, “Get the cat back for Ladybug, if you can.”

Sass managed to perk some, and the transformation worked. Snake-clad Nino turned in the direction Adrien pointed, but before leaping away called back over his shoulder, “You have so much explaining to do, dude.”

And with that, he was gone.

Adrien fell back onto his back, ready to let the darkness of sleep take him, hopefully before more knights showed up.  Instead a new, high pitched, scratchy voice reached his ears.

“Hey. Hey you. I’ve got a proposition for you. We can both help each other out.”

[phantom-alpha]

this was for school, but since i had never used the program i drew this in until i drew it, i pretty much spent the entire time trying to figure out what i was doing

well, if nothing else, at least i got to draw fellow my beloved

[gaycrittercentral]

I realized I make a lot of spelling mistakes, damn you autism!

Anywho can we see more of the virtues? I would love to see kindness more, like him on the couch like how you described

Sfhfhshsjhd y’know what’s funny, my autism does the opposite bc I’m a nerd whose special interest is spelling and grammar 😂 but yeah I completely feel that no worries bud

Oh and HELL yeah I love my guy Kindness!! and so it is my great pleasure to reveal to you all this, my first fully colored comic in probably years because uh. welp y'all know how art block be lmao

also since this is based on a scene I sorta wrote out in a previous post, I've included that snippet under the comic! And here's a link to the original post, where I detailed everything about the virtues.

and then he immediately pops out of existence lmaoooooo

Max tells him to sit on the couch and relax while he grabs some snacks and coffee. The whole time, he has to keep insisting that Kindness stay seated instead of jumping back up to help. Eventually he grabs Kindness by the shoulders to explain that having his partner as, essentially, a self-offered indentured servant is funny and all, but it’s making him uncomfortable. They work so well together because they’ve always been equal, and as high and mighty as Max likes to act sometimes, it feels bad to just keep taking everything from his best friend and to be unable to give anything back. In a dreadfully ironic twist, preventing Max (and others, by extension) from doing anything for him is sort of unkind in and of itself. “So just keep your ass seated and let me do what I need to do, okay? You’re stressing me out. Eat your donut and calm down already.” And Kindness, maybe a little starry-eyed, finally concedes and allows Max to grab a blanket and finish making them some coffee. Once that’s done they sit on the couch together under the blanket for a minute and watch some junk TV while they eat a much-needed snack. After a few minutes of that, Max ventures, “Sooo…can I get that heart now, or…?” “Aw, buddy. You know you already have it.” And with a final little side hug, which Max finally returns with only a little grumbling about how sappy it is, he poofs out of existence.

[sisterdragonwithfeathers]

I think I just read my first tragedy.

It was good.

I do want to fistfight the devil though.

[candlebel]

I cared. I still do. I still think of you and I still cry over you. You were importat to me. You still are.

[the-busy-ghost]

Warning- this is a very petty post, but I think I'm entitled to at least one petty, pissed-off reaction every time I finish a classic novel that hit harder than I expected so take this as my quota for the year.

Also spoiler warning for a book that came out over a century ago but still, I didn't know the plot going in so don't want to ruin it for anyone else, if you haven't read it shut your eyes. (Also Local Tumblr User Going Wild Over Book Published a Hundred Years Ago That Everybody Else Already Read should probably be categorised as akey part of indigenous tumblr culture at this point).

Anyway I just finished the War of the Worlds and in between studying I've thinking about Themes and Motifs as you do, and idly looking for further analysis. I then accidentally ran into an article called 'A Quiet Place II Succeeds Where the War of the Worlds Failed' and:

Now I haven't seen any of the Quiet Place films, this is not a rant against them and of course everyone is entitled to their own opinions. But re: the ending of The War of the Worlds, I have to ask, did this guy somehow miss, uh, the entire point of the book or am I just utterly insane?

[bumblingbabooshka]

Worst Guy Ever - Also, Unfortunately, Very Homosexual Convo. (subtextually)

[shadowsandstarlight]

The painting is done. It is currently in the process of being flattened, I don’t want to take pictures until it’s flat so it won’t be warped. It’s far too nice an artwork to share photographs of it warped.

[keeps-ache]

heyoo.. :3 do you still pick flowers to give your mother ?