#and it makes her sound uncharacteristically dumb

[eightofpents]

alright i'm gonna talk about the letter apparently. i was just gonna write something petty to rot in my drafts but i've decided i actually wanna collect my thoughts here.

this got. too long. it's under the cut.

FIRST. The letter doesn't invalidate his choice in Re Creation. WHY would he give up the wish he is currently making with the expectation that Adrien Might make the wish he actually wants sometime in the future. He's not the brightest but he's not that dumb. It would be an absolutely nonsense decision to make.

For now I'm gonna assume Gabriel wrote the letter.

I think Intuition is probably when it would've happened. He's high key dying and Nathalie asks him to make arrangements for Adrien, and despite his general inability to envision his failure he Does ask Adrien about it. And in the letter he assumes Nathalie will still be there; as of Intuition they think she'll outlive him. So, arrangements: world's shittiest letter.

And he marks it as anachronistic and puts it in the box with Froggy. Which is in character. White!Gabriel constantly doles out affection to Adrien to manipulate him. Look at Froggy, remember we love each other, and then read this mind blowing letter. Then go beg Nathalie to help you stop being an orphan even though she'd given up on that.

The contents of the letter, for reference:

My son. If you're reading this letter, it means I'm with your mother. I sacrificed everything to save Emilie. Monarch was me. I did all I could to seize the miraculous of the ladybug and the black cat. With their powers, I could have brought your mother back. But I failed. It's your turn, now, to continue my mission. Don't worry. You'll have help. Nathalie will explain. You will seize the miraculous of that wretched Ladybug and her pathetic partner Cat Noir, and you will make the wish to bring your mother and me back. You will be perfect. I know these revelations will turn your life completely upside down. It was the case for your mother and me when we first found out about the miraculous. But we never regretted harnessing the peacock to-

The letter to me, largely sounds like Gabriel could've written it. He Would be petty about Chat Noir.

"My son." Gabriel calls Adrien that on relatively few occasions, but he considers it affectionate, and importantly, he does it in Both My-Son-Is-Chat timelines, and fairly frequently as white!Gabriel, specifically to manipulate him. We're off to a very Gabriel start.

I am curious about him calling her Emilie to Adrien. Not in a "That's not Gabriel*" way, just. It's weird to call your partner by their name to your kids right? Are they just reminding Us of her name?? (*not that he's ever done it before)

"But I failed." His inability to conceive of a world where he fails; you might consider this an issue of ego, stubbornness, whatever. I. Do not. When he says he can't live without Emilie in Re Creation, he fucking means it. He finally accepts her death and Immediately kills himself. He can't lose because the world can't go on without Emilie. So despite it being uncharacteristic to Make Arrangements (notably. he doesn't, like, find a caretaker for adrien. just this letter.), I'm not marking it against Gabriel writing the letter because the arrangements he's making are actually just to make sure Emilie comes back.

"It's your turn, now, to continue my mission. You'll have help. Nathalie will explain." It's not Nathalie will help. It's Nathalie will explain. You'll have help. From the cult. (Who notably refer to the diamond's "mission" at the end.) The point of this letter isn't to get Adrien to start hunting miraculous (on his own). It's to get Adrien into the cult. Which I'm sure Nathalie recognizes.

Perfect and revelation are both loaded words but I don't have any thoughts on em beyond that.

"But we never regretted harnessing the peacock" (A lie, but one I can appreciate.) This is what really gets me. He's going to tell Adrien he's a senti. Which doesn't make any sense for Gabriel to do. A deathbed confession about senti stuff? Yeah, Maybe. But if he plans on being back to deal with the consequences of Adrien knowing??? This isn't going to endear him to Adrien. I don't think it'll make him more likely to listen. All it'll do is fuck the boy up.

And as someone else (i do not recall who) pointed out, hiding the letter in the box when you're working with the very limited time frame of Nathalie's life from Gabriel's perspective as he's ostensibly writing this would be Exceptionally risky. Its been months, now that we're finding it. But if it was written after Gabriel's wish that's a moot point.

I legit went into this post without strong feelings on who wrote the letter but I've kinda fully convinced myself it wasn't Gabriel. (<says noted Gabriel Apologist. but I was managing that just fine when I thought he Did write it so.)

Anyway I'm officially putting my money on "written by the cult, for the cult."

[anthrofreshtodeath]

I have to admit that nine times out of ten when people write Maura misusing idioms it falls flat for me 💀

[the-sunflower-room]

scared half to death

🌪️tyler owens x fem!reader 

☆ genre: angst, fluff, friends to lovers

☆ wc: 2.7k

☆ summary: tyler owens is not easily angered, but when the love of his life runs into an incoming tornado without a second thought, his emotions get the better of him.

☆ warnings: a very upset tyler, yelling, language

note: so i watched twisters and it was actually everything to me! the brainrot is bad and i’ve been wanting to write for tyler ever since i saw it, so here it is! this is very much the idiots in love trope because it’s one of my favorites. enjoy! :)

“Where is she?”

Tyler isn’t sure if he’s ever felt this angry before. He considers himself a fairly easy going man, always quick to make light of a situation and put everyone in the room at ease with his charming, joking nature.

But this was different. This had his heart pounding, his ears ringing. His face is flushed red and he feels like he can hardly breathe.

All because of her.

He slams the door of his truck, approaching his crew in the gas station parking lot with a look on his face that’s so completely un-Tyler that it makes them all shift uneasily.

“Where’s…who?” Boone tries weakly, unsuccessful in his attempt to play dumb. Lily rolls her eyes and elbows him in the ribs, shooting him a glare.

Tyler clenches his jaw, for once not in the mood for his friends’ antics. “You know damn well who I’m talking about.”

They all exchange glances, his uncharacteristic demeanor both surprising and concerning. This isn’t the calm, charismatic frontman of the Tornado Wranglers they’re used to.

“She’s in the RV, but I don’t think-” Dani begins, but he’s already beelining for the camper before they can finish. He can hear his heartbeat pulsing in his ears as he nearly bursts through the door, finding her sitting at the small table in the back with her head in her hands.

Her gaze snaps up at the sound of his entrance into the RV, and her face immediately drops when she sees him practically fuming. “Tyler-” she says urgently, instantly on her feet as he approaches as if she’s about to defend herself. But he isn’t having any of it.

“You wanna tell me what the hell you were thinking out there?” He seethes, suddenly towering over her with his jaw clenched and hands on his hips. She swallows thickly, nervous around this version of him. Terrified to have upset him, disappointed him.

“Tyler, I promise, I was just trying to do the right thing-” she starts again, her tone practically pleading, but he just scoffs. 

“The right thing?” He questions in disbelief, cutting her off with a shake of his head. “You call nearly getting yourself killed in the field ‘doing the right thing’?”

She squeezes her eyes shut at the reminder of what she’d done, at the venom in his voice that’s ordinarily so gentle when directed at her. Memories of what had transpired nearly 20 minutes ago flood her mind and she feels a lump forming in her throat.

“I couldn’t let our data get lost,” she whispers weakly, her gaze glued to the floor in shame. “Bullshit,” he mutters, jaw clenched as his breath picks up. His eyes search her face, grasping to understand why the hell she had risked her life the way she had.

“You don’t run into the path of an incoming EF3 to recover some stupid equipment for our disruption research,” he practically spits, his voice growing louder, more emotional.

“That equipment is completely replaceable. You sure as hell aren’t. So I want to know why on god’s green earth you thought it was a good idea to run headfirst into danger like that.”

Her breath hitches, her eyes welling up with unshed tears at the reminder of her brashness. She feels ashamed and almost embarrassed as Tyler practically berates her.

They were best friends, a pair that the rest of the team liked to call the “dynamic duo.” With a shared passion for tornadoes and a taste for danger, they had instantly clicked from the moment they met during a chase a few years ago, becoming inseparable. Which is why Tyler’s harsh reminder of her stupidity stung so painfully.

She wasn’t used to hearing him so upset, so emotional in the worst way. With her, his tone was always soft, teasing, sometimes so overtly flirty that it would leave her heart pounding and her cheeks flushed.

But this was different. Now his gaze was harsh, curses unnaturally tumbling from his lips as she struggled to explain herself. And she hated every moment of his scrutinizing stare.

“You’ve worked so hard on putting together the equipment for the disruption research. I didn’t want you to have to start from scratch…not after all the effort you went through,” she explains pathetically, her voice cracking slightly as her emotions begin to shine through.

Tyler shakes his head, stepping even closer into her space. “And you thought it was worth risking your life for?” He grits out, his furrowed brow and downturned lips looking so unnatural on his normally smiling face.

Another shuddering breath escapes her as she catches herself from revealing the true reason she’d been so careless, from baring her soul and telling him that she’d run into the path of an incoming tornado because she loved him more than anything. That the thought of his disappointed face, his devastation over months of work lost to an unpredictably large tornado, hurt her so much that she would have done anything to save that equipment.

Anything to make him happy, to be the hero that he was to her.

“I- I didn’t get hurt, I knew I had time to get at least some of it-” she stammers, but she can’t get the words out.

“You didn’t have time!” He practically yells, gripping her shoulders and giving her a gentle shake. His eyes are wide, his gaze burning as he stares down at her.

“If Boone hadn’t been close by with his truck, you could’ve easily not made it. You could’ve died,” he chokes out, his grip on her tightening. His eyes are watering now, his anger fizzling out into something more desperate, more panicked.

Tyler still remembers the pure, unadulterated fear he’d felt as she slipped out of the safety of his truck before he could stop her, sprinting out into the open field where the winds and torrential rain were getting worse by the second.

He remembers the devastated scream of her name that had ripped itself from his chest, lost to the howling winds.

He sure as hell can’t forget the feeling of overwhelming fear and helplessness that overtook him when the rain became so intense that he could not longer see her, no longer assure himself that she hadn’t been sucked up into the raging funnel or hurt by the flying debris.

It was only when he got radio confirmation from Boone five minutes later, stating that she was safe in their truck with some of the equipment intact, that he even knew she was alive.

It had been the most hopeless, terrifying five minutes of his life.

“Don’t you understand what you mean to everyone? What you mean to me?” He rasps, his voice quieter now, more broken. “Some stupid equipment for an experiment isn’t worth your life, Y/N. Not in the least.”

His eyes are tender now as they rake over her face, scanning the scrapes and cuts littering her cheeks, the patch of dried blood clinging to her temple. His heart aches at the thought of her getting hurt, even if the injuries are small.

She notices that nearly all of his anger has left his body, replaced by the emotion that had truly been brewing beneath the surface: crippling fear at the possibility of losing her.

A silent tear runs down her face at his softer, more vulnerable words, her heart breaking as she realizes the effect her thoughtless actions have had on the man she loves. He’s quick to gently wipe it away with the pad of his thumb, his touch lingering on her cheek as he gazes at her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her voice breaking as she chokes back a sob. In an instant, he’s enveloping her in his tight, comforting hold, cradling her head to his chest and pulling her so close to him that their bodies are practically molded together.

“Shhh…it’s alright, sweetheart,” he gently hushes, his hand stroking through her hair as she cries softly against him. He’s back to himself now, all anger and frustration long abandoned in favor of his naturally calm, caring demeanor. Through her tears, she feels herself flushing slightly at his term of endearment.

“I’m the sorry one. I shouldn’t have yelled at ya, you didn’t deserve it,” he murmurs into her ear, his arms tightening around her.

He internally berates himself for defaulting to anger when she had also probably been scared and upset. But thinking she had died in that tornado just for attempting to recover his equipment had struck something so deep within him that his brain had reacted irrationally.

He stews in his remorse for a moment longer before admitting a truth that might be a little too vulnerable, a little too revealing of his deep and unwavering love for her, but he has to get it off his chest.

“…You just scared me half to death, darlin’. I can’t lose you...I can’t. It would tear me apart worse than a damn tornado ever could.” His whispered words are so raw and tinged with devastation that her breath hitches against his chest.

Slowly, she peels herself away from his comforting embrace to get a good look at him, and what she finds makes her heart clench in her chest. 

His eyes are red and glassy, obvious signs that he’d been crying. His muscles are taught with anxiety, like every fiber in his body had been tense ever since she fled his truck. His hair is slightly tousled and she instantly knows he’d been running his hand through it the way he does when he’s stressed.

The thought that she could cause him this much worry, this much pain, sucks the breath from her lungs and makes her feel dizzy.

“I only tried to save the equipment because I knew how important the research was to you,” she whispers, her voice still shaky but full of sincerity.

“I know how much it means to you, finding a way to keep these tornadoes from causing so much damage to innocent lives. I just- I wanted to do something brave and selfless for you, the way you always have for me,” she admits softly, swallowing as she meets his gaze.

His lips part slightly at her admission, the reverence in her words staggering. Hearing that she cares for him, finds him brave and selfless, wants to return the way he makes her feel, fills his heart with a love so deep he feels like he’s drowning in it.

“Y/N, you’re-” he rasps, pausing to clear his throat when he hears how raw and weak his voice sounds.

“You’re so damn sweet. Your heart is so big. That’s what I love about you. But please, don’t be as stupid as me. I throw myself headfirst into danger so much because I don’t think first…my judgement gets clouded by the thought of helping someone and I get tunnel vision. Which has put me in one too many potentially life-ending scenarios,” he murmurs, his hands squeezing her slightly as they rest on her shoulders.

“I can’t- I won’t let you be that careless. You mean too much to me.”

Her eyes widen at the tenderness in his voice, the affection and worry dripping from every word. It feels like their conversation is breaching on something deeper, something much more vulnerable and terrifying.

Her mind is hung up on his soft that’s what I love about you. Even hearing the word love directed at her from the mouth of Tyler Owens makes her head spin and her face heat up, and she’s unsure if she’s even breathing anymore.

“Tyler…” she manages, her voice threatening to break with the overwhelming swirl of emotions running through her. She can’t help herself, knows that she’s finally going to put it out there, tell him how she feels no matter how scary it might be.

“I love-” his lips are on hers before she can even finish. The sensation of Tyler kissing her is unlike anything she’s ever felt, and she’s damn sure she never wants him to stop.

His large hand tenderly cups her cheek while the other snakes into her hair, tangling his fingers through the strands as he pulls her even closer. She gasps softly as his grip tightens, his lips moving against her own with an almost feral desperation.

The salt from her tears mixes with his sweet taste – something like honey and peppermint – and she melts further into him and his warmth. She can feel him pour every ounce of his turbulent, pent-up emotions into the kiss, and it leaves her completely breathless.

He’s waited for this moment for so long, and after thinking he’d lost her today, he’d be content to just kiss her like this for the rest of time. Reassuring himself that’s she’s still there, that she’s his. Showing her what she means to him.

Finally getting a grip on his emotions, Tyler pulls away for a moment, wanting to make sure he hasn’t misread the signs, misinterpreted what he’d felt brewing between them for so long.

But a wide, disbelieving grin spreads across her face as she fights to catch her breath, and he suddenly has no doubt that she’s been his all along.

“I’ve been waiting for that for- well, I don’t even know how long,” she laughs breathlessly, slightly woozy from his intoxicating taste.

He huffs a laugh in return, his eyes shining with an overwhelming adoration for the woman before him. “Yeah…I think Boone might owe Dexter and Lily some money,” he jokes softly, his thumb gently brushing her rain-soaked hair away from her face.

His eyes roam over her, taking in every inch of her muddy clothes, her scraped up hands, the shallow cut on her temple. Regret courses through him at the way he’d raised his voice at her, even if it had been out of fear of losing her.

“Are you sure you weren’t hurt?” He murmurs, his voice lower and more serious than before. She gently nods, her hand moving to rest on top of his own as it cups her face.

“I’m ok, promise. It’s just a little scrape from slipping in the mud,” she reassures him, sensing his lingering gaze on her slightly bloodied face. She can practically feel the apprehension in his stare, his constant worry for her well-being so endearing that she just wants to kiss him again and again.

“I promise, Ty. And I swear, I won’t do anything like that again. I just got lost in the moment and didn’t think before acting.” He nods slowly, letting the sincerity in her voice wash over her and comfort his racing mind. 

“You’d better not,” he teases softly, a ghost of a smile pulling at his lips. “If we’re doing this thing, no more running headfirst into tornadoes, you hear? Can’t have my girl acting like an irrational daredevil like me. I’ve been told she’s smarter than that.”

She feels herself blushing as he calls her his girl, the title rolling off his tongue so naturally that it makes her heart skip a beat. Tyler watches as a hearty laugh escapes her and she leans into his touch, his own smile growing wider.

Suddenly nothing else has ever mattered beyond this moment of her in his arms, blushing and laughing like he’s the funniest damn man in the world.

“Ok, alright,” she giggles with feigned exasperation. “No more running into tornado paths, I swear. Wrangler’s honor. But you have to swear it too. You’re an adrenaline junkie and a trouble maker, even more than I am.”

He chuckles at her playful jab, his body feeling lighter than it has all day as he finally lets the tension within him fade. She’s safe, he tells himself over and over. She’s alive, she’s teasing him like she always does, and she’s got him smiling like a damn fool.

“Baby,” he mutters with that teasing glint in his eye, “you need to get my head checked if I ever run away from you and into a tornado. No man in his right mind would leave a gorgeous thing like you for some wind.”

Before she can reply to his ridiculous comment, he captures her lips once more with his own, relishing in the way she smiles against him as he pulls her closer.

This is all Tyler’s ever wanted - all he’s ever needed. Just her, safe and sound, loving him in all his flaws and worry for her.

If her running into that damn field led to this moment, this reality where she’s finally his, then so be it. He’s never been more grateful for a tornado.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

(Genshin Impact) Lisa, Eula, Yae, Shenhe, Chiori, Rosaria, Navia, and Furina's S/O feeling insecure

No one requested this, just writing away some blues tonight since I can't sleep. Totally unrelated, Just Give Me A Reason is a really good song.

Lisa immediately noticed something was bothering S/O.

The way their hands fidgeted on the teacup, staring out into space with their brows creased.

(Lisa) "...S/O?"

She gently calls out to them, snapping them out of whatever they were thinking about as they blinked a few times in surprise.

(Lisa) "Is something the matter?"

S/O gave a smile, one she immediately knew was forced.

(S/O) "Ah, it's nothing.-"

Their expression vanished the moment they saw how concerned Lisa was getting. There was no point in lying to her, was it?

S/O sighed as their fingers resumed rapidly tapping against the side of the cup, struggling to look her in the eyes.

(S/O) "This is going to sound really dumb but...I've just been thinking lately. You...still love me right?""

Lisa's back straightens at their words, where was this going?

S/O shook their head in a slight panic as they realized how their words came across.

(S/O) "I-It's nothing you've done, I promise! I just...I'm just worried that I'm not good enough. And that...you'll leave me because of it."

Lisa for her part remains silent for a moment. Not because she didn't know what to say, it was the opposite.

She was just relieved that it wasn't something more serious. But regardless, Lisa's arms reach over the table and hover over their hands before gently squeezing them.

(Lisa) "S/O, you've always been perfect for me. Whatever thoughts you have right now, don't listen to them."

Her smile and soothing voice makes S/O thankfully relax, with them meeting her gaze.

(Lisa) "Of course I still love you. I always will."

Lisa gets up from her seat to embrace S/O, letting them take a second to let their emotions out.

(S/O) "Lisa-"

(Lisa) "It's okay. Take as long as you need."

Eula is completely stunned when she hears S/O voice their thoughts.

Leave them?

Eula's mouth opens to immediately rebuke that, but quickly silences herself.

Truth be told, she felt that fear herself. The fact that S/O chose to love a Lawrence was a fact she still struggled to fully comprehend.

S/O was the first person to show her true love, and it felt like a knife to her heart to hear them think so little of themselves.

Instead, Eula's palm slowly caresses their cheek, letting their head rest into it.

And with a voice that grows softer by the second, she takes a deep breath and replies:

(Eula) "You mean more to me than anything I could ever say or do, S/O. Don't ever think that you're not good enough for me, because there's no one else I'd rather have."

(S/O) "...Thank you, Eula."

Once she sees that smile she loves, she gives one herself, not being able to help the teasing that follows up.

(Eula) "Remember, our feud is for the long-haul. Don't think that you can escape it that easily."

(Eula) "Hah, of course..."

Yae exhales deeply, processing S/O's words as her ears uncharacteristically twitch for a split second.

A soft chuckle from Yae is the sound S/O hears, making them turn their gaze from the ground to her.

(Yae) "Frankly, I thought when you began that sentence, it would be far worse."

For once, there's no sign of a mischievous smile or anything resembling that she'd tease them.

Yae gives a soft kiss to their forehead before taking their head to rest on her chest in an intimate hug.

(Yae) "I certainly hope you'd know by now, S/O. If I didn't love you, I wouldn't be here right now."

(S/O) "...S-Sorry, Miko.-"

She cuts them off by squeezing them tighter, her voice still as affectionate.

(Yae) "Don't apologize. Just remember that even if you doubt yourself, that I won't."

S/O pulls away after a small eternity, with Yae's expression going back to normal.

(Yae) "Good, that's the face I like to see."

Shenhe is terribly confused.

Why on earth would she ever leave without a good reason to?

(Shenhe) "You don't have to worry about something like that, S/O."

Abandon the person who made her feel human again, to feel love when she thought it was completely gone?

She would have to go completely insane to do that.

(S/O) "I-I know...It's not fair to you at all and-"

Shenhe instantly hugs them tightly, her face and voice not fluctuating all that much despite the strength that held S/O.

(Shenhe) "I am still struggling with emotions, but I know the feelings I have for you are real."

She's put at ease when S/O hugs her back. Thank the Archons she was saying her piece correctly.

(Shenhe) "I'm sorry that I have ever made you doubt me, but I love you, S/O."

(S/O) "I'm...I'm sorry I ever doubted you."

Neither of them move out of each other's arms for a long while.

Chiori sighs before she speaks up in her usual stoic tone. Though this time, there's a hint of kindness in it.

(Chiori) "Well, you're right about sounding dumb."

...Wait, shit that's not what she meant-

(Chiori) "I mean, you know I'm not the type to beat around the bush. If I wanted to leave, I'd have done it. I'm still here, aren't I?"

...Chiori shakes her head, mostly at herself. Even at times like these, she still can't help her choice of words.

This time, she moves to give them a tight hug, wiping away the tears forming at the edge of their eyes.

Chiori feels their heartbeat, giving her time to think of a way to not sound like a bitch.

(Chiori) "Too direct right now, aren't I? Then how about this, my feelings for you haven't changed, and they won't."

She hears S/O give a small chuckle, making her a little more at ease.

(S/O) "You have such a way with words, Chiori."

(Chiori) "Remember, you chose me...And I chose you, S/O."

Rosaria is silent, much of her actions mimicking S/O's.

She didn't look them in the eyes as she took her time, coming up with a response in her head.

Once she glanced at S/O and saw how uncomfortable they had become, she figured out what to say.

(S/O) "I shouldn't have brought this up, sorr-"

(Rosaria) "I'm glad you did, S/O...If anything, I feel like I haven't been there for you enough."

And she was proven right, seeing how they were tonight.

Rosaria hesitates before letting her hands hold S/O's, closing her eyes.

(Rosaria) "I know I'm not here a lot of nights to reassure you, and I know I'm really bad at this kinda stuff..."

Instead of saying anything, she gets up to kiss them, hoping that gets the message across.

(Rosaria) "...Don't worry about me leaving, that's not happening."

She makes it a mental note to come home sooner than usual now, if at the very least to wipe any tears S/O may have away.

Navia thoughtfully listens to S/O's troubles.

Her expression is completely serious, not saying anything until they finished their sentence.

Her first instinct is to wrap her arms around them and tell them that it's okay, but she knew what they really needed.

(Navia) "S/O. I don't think I could imagine my life with anyone else. And I never want anyone but you."

Seeing them relax got her to do so as well, Navia leaning in to kiss the top of their hand.

(Navia) "Don't ever be afraid to tell me these kinds of things. I'll make sure that you won't think that way about yourself ever again."

Now, she allows herself to give them a bone-crushing hug, making her giggle.

(S/O) "Thank you, Navia..."

(Navia) "It's what your wonderful girlfriend is here for, right?"

To brighten their mood, she puts her hat on them, before tilting it down and giving a cheeky smile.

Honestly? Furina completely understood the feeling, more than S/O could ever know.

She was so afraid that the people of Fontaine or that those closest to her would leave upon knowing what she was really like.

Centuries of feeling that she wasn't good enough for anyone ate away at her every night.

So to hear S/O voice the same words, thinking they weren't good enough for her?

The person who loved her despite everything? That broke her heart.

Furina's arms wrapped around their back before her head rested on their shoulders, hugging them tighter than she ever had before.

(Furina) "...Thank you for telling me, S/O."

She had no room to tell them that they shouldn't think this way about themselves. After all, she was still struggling with the very thing plaguing their mind.

(Furina) "I'll love you, no matter what you think. Because you'd do the same for me."

[slowlyoats]

The Lost Boys: How They Dream

Marko

- Bright bold colors and random images

- Distance sounds and physical sensations

- He dreams in a lot of red and blues

-He hears pigeon chirps and motorcycles engines

- very abstract

- He knows how the dream makes him feel, but what the dream is about is always unclear to him

- I think his jacket is based off his dreams

- He started with a plan jacket, and then every time he had a dream he would add something to his jacket that looked like what every he dreamed about

- It’s why his jacket is so wild and unhinged looking

- He spent many months digging through dumpsters and searching through thrift stores to find pieces for “the jacket” as he called it

- I think all the boys tried to contribute to the jacket too

- Dwayne cut a piece of his red bandanna off for Marko to use on his jacket

- David found a some scrap fabric and burnt pieces of it with a cigarette to attempt to make a cool looking design

- And with all my being I believe that Paul was the reason for the fishing lures on Marko’s jacket shoulder

- Dwayne and David thought they looked ridiculous, but Marko thinks they are cool looking

Paul

- Doesn’t usually dream

- Which he HATES

- He wants to have dreams sooooo badly

- He tries all the tricks that he reads about from magazines or picks up from various “spiritual’ people on the board walk

- He has tried special teas

- Turning his clothes inside out

- Mediating (which is really hard for him since he can’t sit still )

- Walking around the cave counter clockwise before morning

- Wearing “magical” trinkets while he sleeps (this one David makes fun of him hardcore for)

- But nothing works!

- He even paid a local Boardwalk witch once to “cast a spell” so that he could dream

- He gave her 50 bucks, and she said some magical words and sent Paul on his way

- It did not work

- He went back the next night and overheard her talking to someone about a “dumb blonde” trying to dream that she ripped off

- Paul, uncharacteristically, moped back to the cave

- When he told the boys what happened, well…..let’s just say that Santa Carla had once less witch by the end of the night

Dwayne

- he has very vivid dreams, with complex story lines that sometimes carry over to the following night morning

- The problem is that 8 times out of 10 he doesn’t remember his dreams

- This frustrates him to no end

- He alway remembers how the dream made him feel or sometimes the general theme of it

- Like he will recall that he dreamed about an exciting adventure or a sensual romance, but he can’t really tell you what exactly happened in it

- There is one exception to this though

- When he has a nightmare

- His always remembers his nightmares so vividly and can recall them clearly when he wakes up

- He would rather dream like this though, then to not dream at all like Paul

David

- David dreams pretty normally

- Sometimes he has a dream sometimes he doesn’t

- He dreams a lot about his past and his present family

- Sometimes they are good memories, sometimes not

- The bad memory dreams always seem to be recurring too

- Like if he has a bad dream one day, he will probably have the same dream over and over again for a week

- If he has an s/o then he definitely would dream about them ( in both G and X rated form hehehehe)

- I think because he has power of the mind he can also influence people’s dreams

- He finds this quiet entertaining, and has been trying to hone this skill for sometime

- He practices on the people who fall asleep on the beach while stair gazing

- He likes to give them the most weirdest or scariest dream he can think of, and then run away and watch from a distance when they wake up in a panic

[darksigns-exe]

be my angel | three - september 1991

warnings: swearing

word count: 3.6k

masterlist | series masterlist | taglist sign-up

Standing in front of the Bell Tower, Teddie suddenly feels awfully nervous. She hasn’t spent a lot of time with Nick alone and now that she thinks about it more, asking him to help with the photos feels like a dumb idea. Nick had been the one who had brought it up – asking about how and where she gets her films developed. And now – a few days later – Teddie isn’t so sure what had convinced her to tell him to join her in the darkroom if he wanted to.

She can’t quite see into the bar, but she can hear the music they’re playing. It’s loud and harsh, and Ted feels a little overwhelmed with it. She gives herself another moment, before she makes her way inside. The sound hits her like a brick wall, and she has to reorient herself before she feels good enough to really enter the bar. She can’t immediately spot Nick, and she stands idly in the middle of the bar for a good minute. Ted considers her options, but before she can decide on a course of action, Nick emerges from a door behind the bar. 

“You’re early.” he states blankly, setting down the tray of clean glasses he’d been carrying. 

“It’s four.” Ted offers, suddenly unsure if that was actually the time they had agreed on. 

His face falls a little when he rushes to check the watch on his wrist. The quiet swear that falls from him almost disappears under the still thundering music. 

“Give me five minutes. Sit, do you want something to drink?” the words come uncharacteristically rushed. 

Nick tosses a small back of chips her way before he vanishes into the back of the bar once again. 

Teddie feels like a child waiting for her parent. She doesn’t belong here and without Nick - or Noah - to ground her in this place, she feels more and more like an intruder with every minute that passes. But the bag of chips sustains her until Nick returns, stuffing a set of keys into the front pocket of his jeans. 

“Alright,” Nick announces as he comes to stand in front of her, “Lead the way.” 

Her fear that the walk would be quiet and uncomfortable seems to be unfounded. Nick is surprisingly easy to make conversation with, even without Noah being present to bridge the gap between them. And while it’s light and surface-level, Ted learns a few new things about him. Nick also grants her a few more entries on the seemingly never-ending list of music she wants to catch up on. Contrary to Noah, he doesn’t make a big scene when she doesn’t recognise a title he tells her about. Not that Noah's upset was ever meant seriously, but sometimes his antics do get to her. 

By the time they reach the building that houses the photo studio and dark room, Ted’s list has grown by a good few items. And while she isn’t entirely sure what Nick is gaining from this, she can’t deny that she is at least a little excited to spend more time with him. 

Nick walks a few steps behind her when they enter the building, and Ted can’t decide if it’s because he doesn’t know where he’s going or because he too feels a little out of place. She leads him up the winding stairs of the stairwell that’ll take them to the darkroom quickest. 

“Are you here a lot?” Nick asks as they make another turn through the unchanging hallways. 

“Not that often. The drawing rooms are in a different building, I only come here for the dark room and the printer.” Ted explains. 

Nick asks about what she actually studies, claiming that Noah hadn’t really made a lot of sense. Teddie can’t exactly blame him because she knows that Noah is prone to jumbling facts around, and who really knows what Noah actually told him. 

Through a little bit of sweet-talking, she had managed to convince the guy who usually hands out the keys to the non-photography students to let her keep one of the keys, allowing her to come and go whenever she pleased. Teddie doesn’t like that she can charm her way around people like that, but with how easily some people placed stones in her way, it’s only fair that she also plays the game. 

Nick quietly follows her into the antechamber. He remains by the door while she takes off her jacket and tosses it over one of the chairs. 

“You can leave anything you don’t need in here. The door doesn’t open from the outside.” she explains, pulling her hair out of her face with the little red and white plaid seersucker hair tie her mother had made for her some months before she had left. 

Nick shrugs off his denim jacket, hanging it over the back of the same chair hers is lying on. 

“Anything I need to know?”

“Room has to stay dark, or your photos are gone. Don’t touch anything and don’t taste anything? Noah tried to dip his finger into the fixer one time when I took him. I would not recommend that.”

From the way Nick shakes his head, she gathers that he isn’t exactly surprised. 

“Got it.” he replies, still quietly laughing to himself. 

Nick follows her into the actual dark room.

She goes about her usual preparations, getting all of the solutions and developers out of the shelves. Nick looks a little out of place, but putting him to work is turning out to be a little trickier than she had expected. 

“Can you get the scales? Should be in the cupboard on the right.” she points vaguely towards where they should be. 

After a little rummaging, Nick places the digital scales on the workbench next to her. 

“Do you have to measure all of this?” She nods, “Ratios need to be right or else we’ll end up with something indistinguishable. And you only really get one shot with this.” 

Teddie doesn’t know how much Nick actually cares about any of this, but she explains the process anyway. Noah’s disinterest had been much more obvious. 

“The longest part is the drying. I have three rolls, but it shouldn’t take much longer than an hour or so – clean up included.” “I thought this would take at least half a day.” Nick sounds a little surprised, “But then again, I don’t know anything about this.” 

Ted gives a chuckle in reply.

Nick hovers behind her while she continues to prepare the rolls of him. She manages to sneak a glance at him. In the harsh red light, his features look much more exaggerated. Ted briefly wonders if he’d let her take more pictures. 

The actual developing goes smoothly. Nick hovers a little, but she hadn’t expected anything else from him. He’d come to help and there wasn’t a whole lot he could do except hanging lengths of film up to dry while Teddie continues to work on the next batch. At least he’s more helpful than Noah had been the last time she’d brought him. Working with Nick like this feels surprisingly easy. It’s almost as if they’ve done this a thousand times already. He asks a few clarifying questions, but for the most part, he seems to have figured out what she needs him to do fairly quickly. And while they work in silence for the most part, Ted does enjoy the brief exchanges they have. 

“How long have you been here now?” Nick asks after a while. 

“Little over a year.”

Ted just sees him shaking his head as he laughs, “I could have sworn that Noah said you just moved here.”

“Feels a little like it.” Ted admits quietly, “I haven’t really felt like I’ve arrived here before I moved in with him.” 

“Where did you live before?” 

“Dorm. The people I lived with were new too, and it was all a little – sedentary. I think living with Noah has been good for me. I get out a lot more.”

He gives a knowing nod in response, “Noah’s good for that. That boy knows just about everyone that you need to know. He’s a little – oblivious, I guess – sometimes, but he means well.” 

Ted hands him the last section of film to hang up. She thinks that she knows what Nick means. Noah has an interesting way of thinking about finances sometimes. She’s sure that he doesn’t make enough at the record store to finance the place they live in. Even with the additional money she brings in, it should be impossible to for them to afford the loft. The portion Ted gives to the rent cannot be large enough to cover the rest.

“It’s hard to hide that you come from money when most of the people you hang out with have at some point questioned how they’ll buy groceries.” Nick finally adds, “He’s trying, but sometimes it’s just very obvious that he’s never really had to worry about a thing.”

The way Nick talks about him makes it sound as if Ted should be aware of Noah’s upbringing. But whenever they’d talked about their families so far, he had been quick to dismiss the conversation. Noah had told her more than once that his relationship with his family just wasn’t good, and Teddie had never thought to dig much deeper. 

“Where did you say you’re from again?” Nick asks then, as he hands her one of the bowls they’d used. 

“Place called Brevard. North Carolina.” 

“You’re a long way from home, huh? How’d you end up here?”

And so Ted tells him about how she’d always seen New York on the TV and thought that it was the best place for an artist to go. Another girl from her street had gone to New York to become a writer, and when she’d come back she’d told them all how great it had been there. 

Nick’s amused look tells her that he’s heard this tale a thousand times before. 

“I thought that the best place for a guy who wants to be in a band was the Bay, so I get it.” There's an awfully sentimental – and almost sad – look on his face then, “Sometimes it works out, and sometimes you have to crawl back home with your tail tucked between your legs.”

Ted wonders if she should dig deeper, but with Nick, it’s always so hard to know. She watches as his front teeth dig into his lip for a moment. 

“But you like what you’re doing here? Fine arts.” 

The little accent he puts on makes Teddie laugh out loud. 

“I do. It’s nice.”

Nick fixes her with a curious look, but ultimately doesn’t push further. 

It does feel a little like a lie. 

It’s not like Ted doesn’t enjoy the program she is in right now, but she also can’t deny that she loves taking pictures. Swapping programs just like that feels a little daunting, though. She’s never been one to just give up on something, just because it feels a little tricky at the moment. 

“When will you know if you’ve won this contest?” Ted asks, instead of dwelling on the matter for much longer. 

“End of October.” Nick replies, “We have a friend who’s getting the zine for us before it officially releases, so we should know before the end of the day on the 31st.”

“Have you played over there before?”

Nick shakes his head, “We’ve been around the states a few times, but that’s it. It’s been a little slow.”

“So what I’m hearing is no pressure at all.” 

Nick laughs in response, shaking his head. 

“Whatever happens, happens. If we win that’ll be great and if we don’t – at least a few more people will know about us.”

“Assuming you win, what happens then?” 

“Ideally, we figure out a way to get to Europe, play a bunch of festivals, make some money and new fans, see some new things.” he explains, “Don’t get me wrong. The album is selling so much better than expected, but Europe would change everything. I didn’t think that we’d sell more than a hundred units at all, and now they’ve told us that we might have the bestselling debut on that label. I don’t even want to think about how many more it could be if things go ideal with this contest and the festival.”

Nick looks as if the excitement about this all is bubbling just beneath the surface of his skin, but he’s not quite allowing himself to feel it properly. She can see the beginnings of a smile twitching at the corners of his lips, but it never becomes more, and Ted wonders if he doesn’t show it because he doesn’t know her well enough or if he actually won’t allow himself to be excited about this. Judging from how reserved he usually is, she’s inclined to believe that the latter is true. 

The tomato shaped timer rings. 

The blaring noise of it tears through the momentary silence that had spread between them. 

Ted quickly moves towards where they’d hung up the strips of film, to check if the first ones had already dried. 

She picks one of the dried strips up, holding it up in front of her face. She brings the strip over to the enlarger, sliding it under the lens. Ted fiddles with dials for a moment. And once the image has cleared up, and she’s faced with the test image she’d taken of Noah just before they had left or the show, she steps away from the device again.

“Do you want to have a look?” 

Nick steps forward, mimicking what Ted had done a moment ago. Ted starts to move the film toward showing the remaining photos on this strip. He remains stoically silent the entire time, almost making Ted believe that he doesn’t like a single one of the pictures.

When she’s reached the end of the strip, Nick steps away from the enlarger again. 

“Ted.” he says after a long moment of silence, “I don’t know what to say.” 

Ted wrings her hands together, nervously awaiting Nick’s judgement. Somehow, this more nerve-wracking than she had expected. She understands now how much actually rides on these pictures, and she really does not want to be the thing that ruins their chances at winning this contest. 

“If the rest are anything like this, we’re practically in Europe already.” 

And this time she sees a little bit more of a smile on his face. 

“I’m sorry that we doubted you like that.” he sounds so very sincere in his apology, “These are incredible, Ted. I think we stand a real chance now.” 

They have made a preliminary choice to take back to the rest of the band. Nick understandably doesn’t want to make this decision on his own.

Ted thinks that the batch that they’ve marked for printing is really good. She’s proud of how the pictures have turned out, especially considering that she’d never taken pictures of a concert before that. And hearing how impressed Nick had been with the pictures had lifted her mood even further. 

“Have you ever thought about doing this? Like full-time?” Nick asks as they’re putting their jackets back on, “I know a couple of people that could need a photographer – and they’d probably be able to pay you in real money and not store credit for a Blockbuster and stale sandwiches.” 

“I don’t know, Nick.” 

“I mean it. Half of the pictures in magazines look the same, but you could add a breath of fresh air. Show some old dudes how it’s supposed to be done.” 

The trace of excitement in his voice is almost infectious. 

Ted can’t deny that she had thought about it before, but her parents had always insisted that she needed stability. She had seen first-hand what could happen if someone loses their job. During the brief period when her father had been out of work in 1985, they had only managed to come by because her mother had decided to work again. Fortunately, they’d only had a few months when things had looked truly dire, but other families in the community hadn’t been that lucky. 

The experience had left her with a lingering fear, though. 

And now that she is living somewhat on her own, she doesn’t want to risk losing the little bit of income she has. Crawling back home because she can’t afford to live here anymore sounds like the last thing she wants. Just the idea of having to admit defeat to her brothers is enough to make her want to stay in her lane. 

“How about this, next time you come around the Bell Tower I’ll introduce you to a couple of people. And if you feel like you can, you do the show. No one says that you have to jump into the deep end of the pool and go full-time immediately. I’ve been in bands for years, and I still have to take multiple jobs in between tours to keep myself over water.”

Ted tries to find a fault in his reasoning, but his logic seems sound. 

By the time they’re back at the apartment, Ted as agreed to his offer. 

If Nick was willing to extend her grace and trust with something as important as these pictures, she should be able to do the same. 

Ted hadn’t realised just how much time they’d spent in the darkroom until they step back out onto the street. The sun is already significantly lower in the sky. 

Their conversation continues on the way home, and while Ted still feels as if he’s holding her at an arm’s length, she thinks that she’s starting to get a little bit of a better picture of who Nick is. 

The route he shows her back to the apartment is quite a bit shorter than the one she’s been taking so far, and Ted tries her best to memorise it.  

They’re greeted by music and laughter as the elevator door slides open. Ted unlocks the grate, letting them into the main space of the apartment. The music is too old to be something Noah has picked, so she assumes that Jesse has come home with him after work. Ted doesn’t mind it at all. Jesse feels like a little piece of home in this big city. 

“There you are.” Noah exclaims as he exits his room, “I was starting to get a little worried.” 

“Just a little?” Nick asks as he throws his jacket over the back of the sofa. 

“Between you two, you’d be fine.” he shrugs, “You’re just in time, though. I guilted Jesse into cooking.”

Ted hangs her jacket up on the little rack next to their door, before she does the same with Nick’s. 

“What’s he making?” she asks, as she toes off her shoes. 

“You’ll have to ask him. All he said is that you’d be happy about it.” Noah replies. 

Nick shakes his head, and Ted is sure that Jesse had told him what he’d be making. It wouldn’t be the first time that Noah just stopped listening to a conversation. 

Ted pushes past him into the kitchen. 

As soon as the smell hits her, she finds herself back in her grandmas' kitchen. 

“Chicken and dumplings. Thought you could use a little bit of home.” Jesse says, without turning away from the stove, “I know I did.”

Ted comes to stand next to him, trying to get a peak into the pot.

“You’re an angel.”

She can’t stop herself from wrapping Jesse up in the tightest hug. Jesse gives a chuckle in return. He pats her back softly. 

“Almost done. You wanna get some plates out?” 

Maybe she’d tried a little too hard to remove herself from home in the attempt to feel less homesick. But even after being here for a little over a year, she still feels herself longing for the comfort of her mother's kitchen. 

The conversation around the table is comfortable. Noah’s account of the guy who tried to scam them with counterfeit Queen tapes makes all of them laugh — Nick included. 

Once dinner is cleaned up, and Noah is done complaining that he had to help with the dishes, the four of them reconvene in the living room. Before Ted even has the time to say something, Noah is digging through her bag for the photos. 

Ted is glad that Nick convinced her to get all of the pictures printed instead of just the ones they’d use for the contest. Getting this moment of looking back at that night together makes her feel a little more grounded in the group. When she’d taken the pictures, she was fully convinced that Nick would never speak more than a few words to her. 

“If you don’t take this one, I’m throwing you out. Both of you.” Noah argues, waving a close-up of Nick in Ted’s face, “I’m not saying that this is the best one, but – Jesse, help me out here.” 

“I’m staying out of this debate —”

The conversation quickly escalates into a half-hearted argument with Noah and Ted on one side and Nick on the other, who is adamant that he doesn’t want to be the face of the band. Nick doesn’t yield though, but at the end of the day, Ted knows that she can always just slip the picture into the batch when he’s not looking. 

From their they eventually turn to lighter topics and Ted allows herself to sink into the background for a moment. 

She watches them talk and laugh and joke, and maybe it’s then that she realise that she feels as if she’s a part of this group. 

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@rumoured-whispers @cheyyyyr @mathfairchild1 @thewrstinme @Follow-me-down-to-wonderland

[sixeyescurseuser]

hidden inventory a/b/o

Alpha Gojo grew up in a very traditional household. Of course he’s going to have questionable ideologies for how one’s assigned status should influence their behavior. 

Omega Geto hides his status because it makes him vulnerable. At least, Yaga-sensei had given him an earful about how dangerous it would be as a known omegan sorcerer. So Geto poses as a beta.

Everyone is supposed to wear scent blockers anyway.

As long as Geto’s scent doesn’t bleed through, he can bury the truth. 

Thus, their class consists of two alphas - Shoko and Gojo - while Geto is a self-proclaimed beta. 

During their first year, Gojo and Geto still bicker a lot despite always being assigned missions together. Geto is very protective about his room space (this ensures his scent is kept a secret) so the trio hangs out in either Gojo or Shoko’s room. 

By the end of their first year, Gojo realizes that he actually really enjoys Geto’s company. Geto treats him normally without fearing how Gojo’s alpha might react. It feels like he’s earned Geto’s tolerance and eventual respect too. 

And-

“Thank god none of us are omegas. That would’ve made shit ten times more complicated,” Gojo sighs. The three of them had just finished exercising their first special grade. 

Geto looks off to the side while Shoko cocks her head. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asks, sounding like she can’t believe what she’s hearing.

“Don’t you know that omegas are more sensitive to cursed energy? It messes with their hormonal balance,” Gojo says casually, naturally matching his gait with Geto. “That’s the main reason that there aren’t many omega sorcerers. They’re highly susceptible to cursed energy and can be sent into states of toxic shock, or even heat.”

Geto stares off into space while Gojo rambles. It’s like being thrown back to when he’d just joined Jujutsu High, Yaga-sensei had warned him about every risk factor of his status.

Shoko sighs from the other side.

“While that’s been true in some cases, it doesn’t mean every sorcerer who happens to be an omega will struggle with that. There’s methods to help build tolerance against cursed energy too,” Shoko rebuttals, casting a side glance at Geto. 

“Sure, but when exorcizing special grades, even first grades, an omega would only drag us down,” Gojo concludes. Wrapping an arm around Geto’s shoulders, he smiles widely. “Besides, we’re already the strongest!”

Geto only manages a small smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

***

Shoko can’t confirm her suspicions, but Geto had been uncharacteristically quiet for that conversation.

But she does have suspicions. Like that one time Geto was bedridden with a dangerously high fever, and demonstrated other symptoms that were suspiciously like a heat.The only thing that had worked was a suppressant shot that Shoko used as a final resort.

Another thing is that Geto purrs a lot but at a very low frequency, which isn’t typical of alphas. 

She is willing to bet that if they were allowed in Geto’s room, on his bed would be a semblance of a nest.

It gets even more obvious when they’re second years and Geto welcomes the new first years with a kind smile and warm-hearted words. Geto doesn’t feel threatened by the younger alphas at all. 

The same cannot be said for Gojo.

One of the dumb hierarchical things traditional families practice is the alphas on the lower ranks must answer to the higher-ranked alphas, aka only speak when spoken to.

Most of the time, Gojo won’t even speak so when it’s just him and the younger classmen, it’s both quiet and awkward.

Meanwhile, Geto is the most accommodating and considerate senpai. He praises his kouhai plenty, particularly Haibara, and invites them on all the second-year food outings.  

If Shoko is ultimately wrong in her guess, then their class is lucky that they have such a placid and balanced presence on the team. 

***

After a mission gone wrong that results in him losing a leg, it is revealed that Haibara had been an omega in hiding. Everyone is in shock, some more about his true status instead of the fact that he had nearly died had the second-years not been called for backup. 

Gojo’s comment of, “This is proof that it’s too dangerous for omegas to be in this field” sets Geto the fuck off. 

Geto is downright pissed.

“He should’ve known better, now he’s suffering the consequences,” Gojo tries arguing. He doesn’t expect that the next thing to happen is Geto’s fist colliding with his cheek. 

Gojo sputters. “Suguru, what the fuck!?”

Geto is breathing heavily himself, fingers twitching as he struggles to contain his temper. 

“You’re being so rude- no, you’re being worse than rude. That was terrible, Satoru. Even for you.”

“I-“

“You were what, just saying the truth?” Geto snarkily finishes Gojo’s sentence. “Well not everyone wants to hear the “truth” right now. Have some fucking decency because we almost lost one of our kouhai, omega or not. So if you’re not going to say anything nice, just fucking shut it.”

Geto stalks away before Gojo can say something to fix his statement. Geto then proceeds to ignore Gojo for the next twenty-four hours, basically avoids him like the plague, right before his solo mission at an abandoned temple.

It’s whatever, Satoru says shit like that all the time, Geto tells himself. 

He’s more than adamant enough to keep his own secret safe.

(2)

[anonymityisfunwriter]

The GED - Part 2

Pairing: Grumpy!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader Summary: You've made your bed. Now, you have to lie in it. And you'll do anything to prove you're not the stupid, illiterate Avenger dumb.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Grumpy Sunshine Series The GED Series List

You don't know how long you've been standing in the common room. You don't know how long it's been since you heard those agents making fun of your friends, making fun of you.

All you know is that you can't get the sound of their voices out of your head. They just keep echoing off each other, getting louder and louder with every passing moment. 

You feel shellshocked, hollow. 

"Hey, I thought you were taking those down," Sam's voice interrupts from the doorway. You didn't even realize you were still clutching the plate of cookies you made for those agents. 

"Oh," you choke out. Your knuckles are white. You have to will yourself to set the plate down on the table. You have to will the sadness off your face before Sam sees your pained expression. You don't want to tell him what you heard.

He would tell the others and they would just go down there. You really didn't want to make a tense relationship worse because you couldn't leave well enough alone. This was your fault. There's another part of you that just doesn't want to admit it. That doesn't want them to know what those agents think of you, what they found out by reading confidential files. You're worried they'll agree. You're worried they'll tell you they had a point. You're embarrassed. Embarrassed that people really think of you like that. Dumb. The stupid, illiterate Avenger. "I - I was. They weren't down there."

"Oh." Sam looks at you quizzically. "Are you okay? You look upset."

You shake your head, clearing the knot lodged in your throat. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just don't want those cookies to go to waste."

"Well, I doubt you have to worry about that," Sam jokes, grabbing a cookie off the plate. 

As Sam finishes off the cookie in his hand, your curiosity gets the best of you, "Hey, Sam? What's a Stepford Wife?"

"Nothing good, why?"

"I just - I heard it from somewhere."

"It's sorta like a woman who does whatever her husband wants, like she can't think for herself."

"Oh." It feels like a punch to the gut. That's what they thought of you. 

Sam reaches out, nudging your shoulder, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I was just thinking."

"About?" Sam urges.

"I want to go to school," you unexpectedly announce. 

"You wanna go to school. Why?"

"Why not?" you counter, an uncharacteristic bite to your words. 

Sam jolts, confused by your defensive response. "You've just - you've already got so much on your plate, you know? You barely have any free time as it is. And school is - it's hard, really hard."

"So you don't think I can do it?"

"Of course I think you can do it!" Sam exclaims. "I just don't know what brought this on, that's all."

You force yourself to calm back down. You remind yourself that you brought this on yourself, Sam didn't deserve your frustration. You take a deep breath, rolling your shoulders back. You hate how easily the lie rolls off your tongue. "I just - I want to have that experience. Everyone else in this Compound does."

"That's fair," Sam acquiesces. He gives your shoulder a comforting squeeze. "We'll talk to Fury. I'm sure we could make it happen. If anyone can do it, it's you."

You smile at him. "Thanks, Sam."

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Grumpy Sunshine Series

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

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[almighty-letu]

Day 2 Aleheather Week 2024

Day two, November 12th - Secret relationship/rain

Create something that involves a secret relationship between Aleheather, whether it takes place on the show or not. OR create a rainy day for Aleheather.

This is more a "what if" au thingy where Heather and Alejandro semi-solved their issues behind the scenes of all stars. Hope you enjoy!

Winter was over. Sprigs and buds started to bloom on the branches as the seasons shifted. Heather watched the pouring rain outside from within the winner’s cabin. It’s been raining for a while now, turning the ground outside damp and muddy. Good thing there was no challenge today. Although Heather wouldn’t put it past Chris to find some entertaining way to torment them if the storm did not let up soon.

Heather sat by the windowsill, bundled up and reading a book, soothed by the sounds of the thundering rain as she alternated between taking sips of her coffee and filing the pages of her book.

“Heather?” She looked up from her book, dark eyes inquisitive. Alejandro was hand-standing in the doorway. She lifted one eyebrow. “Can we talk?”

Sighing, Heather snapped her book closed, beckoning him to go ahead.

He drew closer and situated himself next to her on the windowsill, numb legs sprawled sideways and dangling over the edge. “I have been meaning to speak with you. Alone.”

“I already gathered that. And?”

Alejandro blinked at her. He hesitated, took a deep breath, and continued. “Do you ever regret what you did?”

Heather furrowed her eyebrows. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Heather. It’s me. We both know what we’re talking about here.” Alejandro hissed impatiently. “Back at World Tour. Back in Drumheller… and the volcano.” His eyes met hers. “In this one year we’ve been apart… have you ever thought of me at all?”

Heather gazed back at him. Although part of her longed to snap back at him defensively, for once she sensed his inquiries didn’t come from a malicious intent of trying to rile her up. His voice just sounded so uncharacteristically sad. His green eyes were full of such sorrow that there was no bottom or end to it.

“I missed you.” He went on when he received no answer. “When I was stuck in the robot suit there was not a day that went by where I didn’t think of you. To think I’d see you again… it was the only thing that kept me going.”

“That seems… a bit over dramatic, don’t you think?” Heather scoffed, trying to lighten up the mood.

Alejandro stared at her. “Back on the volcano, I meant every word I said. For what it's worth, I think we could make one hell of a team.”

“We are on the same team. For now.” Heather said.

“But you know I want more than that!” Alejandro told her. He leaned closer, taking one of her pale hands between his warm palms. “I know we are in a competition right now. The million dollars matters a lot to both of us.” He whispered. “And while part of me still resents you for the way you treated me a year ago… that still doesn’t change the way I feel about you.”

Heather avoided his eyes. “My feelings for you haven’t changed either.” She reluctantly confessed, her voice quivering. “But we’re in the middle of a game! Now is not the time to rethink our relationship.”

“Will there ever be a perfect time?” Alejandro queried.

“What you are asking for is impossible, you know that right?” Heather retorted, ripping her hand away. “If we do this… if we let THIS get in the way, the chances of either of us winning the game will be slim. The other contestants will take one look at us, see we’re allies, and do everything in their power to boot us off first. A relationship right now is way too risky.”

“The others don’t have to know.” Alejandro said, his voice leveled and clear. “Nothing has to change. We’ll play the game just as we always have. We’ll give it our all for our team and the challenges - we’ll do whatever it takes to win. But in the meantime… while we’re away from prying eyes… can’t we just focus on us for a little while?” He cupped her cheek lovingly with one hand.

Lowering my guard around him? Now that’s just asking to paint a target on my back. Heather thought idly. If no one is going to vote me off, then he most definitely will. Is that a risk I am willing to take?

Heather leaned closer to rest her forehead against his. “I can keep a secret if you will.”

In the moment, Heather let go of her restraints and took a leap of faith as the rain poured down out there. How can something so wrong feel so right?

[window-window]

— XV. THE DEVIL

“DON'T GET COCKY AND THINK YOU ARE INVINCIBLE IF YOU MANAGED TO DODGE THE BULLET.”

UPRIGHT: oppression, addiction, obsession, dependency, excess, powerlessness, limitations.

REVERSED: independence, freedom, revelation, release, reclaiming power, reclaiming control.

–––

LEONID SIMONYAN.

Last seen on January 23rd. His family has stated he last spoke with Seda Heydari before leaving the house with Pablo Mercado-Moreno, the latter noted to have vanished the same day. What people who know the victims find strangest about the whole situation is that they're two loud and confrontational people, even more so when they're paired up. Unafraid to resort to disruption and any self-defense necessary, it feels uncharacteristic that the two went missing so quietly.

PUBLIC BIOGRAPHY

Leonid Simonyan's family had lived in Los Angeles for generations, which is where he spent his childhood up until he completed elementary school. Public records upon the family's move out of state are hard to follow, though we do know for certain that he currently lives in the northernmost New Jersey area.

He has always lived, and still does live, with parents Eshkhan Simonyan and Sona Avedisian. They currently also live with Seda Heydari, his older cousin by four years, and her cat, Ani.

Leonid is a full-time student, learning cybersecurity with a computer science focus and planning on working in the field once he has the qualifications. For now, though, his current occupation is online tutoring, helping high schoolers virtually with their math classes. Leonid used to do the work in person, and still tries occasionally, but ... well.

He gets out when he can, it doesn't matter. He volunteers locally when his schedule opens up, which is rare between his job and his academic schedule, and before tutoring he's had a long, long list of odd jobs. A seasoned yarn bomber on top of all that -- just not as active as he used to be with it -- Leonid is a busy, busy man. Does he ever have room to breathe?

A lot of experience under his belt would make for a well-rounded guy, somebody pleasant for the average stranger to be around. Somebody dependable, even if you haven't got to know him yet.

The care and discretion he shows couldn't be exclusive to his personal life. Right?

Wrong. Dead wrong.

In the Labyrinth, complete 180. Leonid Simonyan has been nothing but irresponsible. Insolent, childish, mocking those around him in such an immature way; he's closer to a fly buzzing around the ears than someone who can actually say something that hurts. He doesn't involve himself in most conflicts unless to instigate from afar, laughs at the people around him, takes next to nothing seriously, and gets in the way above all else.

FUN FACTS

It's such a bizarre contrast to how he behaves in daily life. He's so aggravating to be around that it's as if he's making himself as personally grating for the group as possible. He for sure is playing it up deliberately while he's here, but why?

Rumors surround Leonid like a fog, that he isn't at all how he seems on the surface -- that he's a quitter, or a dropout, or a criminal, or some other kind of fraud. That he did something or his family did something and either way he's a selfish, conniving bastard. The fire is fueled by stereotyping, and he tries not to let it get to him.

Who cares what people think? Oh, they wanna be him so bad. He's cool as fuck and they're so mad. They wanna sound sooo smart and it makes them look so dumb. They're saying so many big words and it's making his head hurtttt. He doesn't need this, he's got family and he's got friends, one friend, Dex Saberhagen is his only friend, and he's got work in the morning and a report to finish by Sunday and dinner won't make itself.

Perceptive, and methodical where he wants to be (he just never wants to be). Impatient, unregulated, impulsive.

– Eats cough drops like candy. His favorites are the honey menthol ones. If you even care.

– Grew up Orthodox Christian and still helps out at a local church. Wasn't the one he grew up with, that one's across the country, but you know.

– Carries a lot of useless things in his pockets. Cards, marbles, pens, crumpled receipts, a tactical flashlight, yarn.

– Interestingly, speaks Armenian and can audibly understand it, but he isn't nearly as fluent in reading it anymore. Learning Spanish and ASL for accessibility purposes at his job, and he's (almost) conversational!

– He has, of all things, a major Force-Zero* hyperfixation and it's been going on for a while. Damn near a decade. Watch out!

– Insists on dyeing his own hair. Did a real patchy job last time but can't be bothered to fix it. Maybe tomorrow.

[syrikif]

Gamer Etiquette

Kodzuken x Streamer!Y/N

Pairing: Kenma Kozume x Fem!Reader

Genre: SMAU, Written Elements, Strangers to Lovers, Romance, Fluff, Humor, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Streamer/Youtuber AU

Upcoming content creator/streamer, Y/N, has gone viral for lots of things. Her infamous dumb moments, her blended cookie recipe (which tastes better than it sounds), the way she rages at her friends during games, and about a hundred more.

But her most recent viral moment? Accidentally knocking famous streamer, Kodzuken, off the Bedwars map and making him lose his two year winning streak.

Now with more attention (and hate) than she ever asked for, her only option left is to go to the source: the man himself, Kenma Kozume.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Chapter 6 (a): Cuddle Buddies

Word Count: 2381

You look up from your phone with confusion, eyebrows furrowed as you turn and make eye contact with Shoyo. Your features practically light up upon seeing him, a grin enveloping your face as you stand from your seat. 

“Sho!” And maybe your voice is a bit too loud in the quiet atmosphere of the cafe because you can see multiple heads turn in your direction as you begin making your way towards him. But you can’t find it in yourself to care when Sho’s arms come around your waist and he lifts you from the ground as your face is buried into his neck. 

“Hi Y/N.” His voice is warm in your ear, his tone full of affection for you as his grip tightens around your waist. 

And suddenly you feel so silly because your eyes are watering and you’re hiding your tears against his skin in complete embarrassment. You know you’re being uncharacteristically emotional, and you’re able to realize that you’re causing a scene. But even so, it’s been so long since you’ve seen Sho that you’re incapable of holding in your emotions even if you wanted to. 

Shoyo squeezes you tighter against him, most likely becoming aware of your current state of mess and trying to comfort you. Unfortunately for you though he underestimates his strength, resulting in your ribcage beginning to ache and your voice getting breathless from the lack of air.  

“Okay, okay,” you manage to get out, struggling to pull away as you pat his shoulder with one hand. “You’re crushing me here, Sho.” 

“Oh!” He releases you nearly instantaneously, laughing when you stumble as your feet come in contact with the ground. “Sorry, Y/N,” he rubs the back of his neck with one hand almost bashfully. 

He looks so different from when you last saw him, (How long has it been? Eight months? Nine?) but his ever-lasting smile is enough to make you feel like nothing has changed at all.

You hear a throat clear, “I feel like I’m interrupting something.” Only then do you remember who you’re even supposed to be meeting in the first place. “Should I give you guys some space?” He’s teasing you, you can recognize it in his voice, but when you turn to look at the man standing awkwardly off to the side you don’t recognize the face. 

But you know who he is. How could you not? 

“Hi Kenma,” you greet with an enthusiastic smile. He’s different than you expected; only a couple centimeters taller than Shoyo and admittedly more good-looking than you initially would’ve anticipated. 

He’s wearing a simple sweatshirt and jeans, his overgrown bleached hair tied back to (one can only assume) keep it out of his face. 

And, if you’re being honest with yourself, you feel a bit overdressed.

You’d made sure to do your makeup exceptionally well today, always wanting to impress when meeting someone new. You even wore a skirt for the occasion, although - judging by both of their casual outfits - it seems that it’s entirely unnecessary . 

You move forward to hug Kenma just as he reaches out with his right arm, presumably to shake your hand. You both pause, your gazes meeting as you realize the awkwardness that’s about to ensue. 

You don’t let it. 

“Can I give you a hug?” 

Kenma’s eyes grow wide, “You want to-? Why would you-? You-.” His hand retracts, his fingers restlessly playing with the hem of his hoodie as he looks you over. “You want to hug me?” It’s only the third coherent sentence he’s said since you’ve met, but it’s a surprisingly wholesome question all things considered. 

You can’t help but laugh then because he also seems to be a lot more timid than he’d ever been online. 

“I’m really good at hugs,” you tell him, your arms still outstretched in his direction. 

“You-,” he stops again, his head tilting as he gives you an unreadable expression. “Fine.” 

You mentally cheer even as he rolls his eyes, opening his arms for you rather reluctantly as you step closer to him. You give him no chance to change his mind, practically throwing your body into his in order to wrap your arms around him. 

And despite his earlier unwillingness Kenma returns your embrace with equal fervor, his hands encircling your body and pulling you into him almost roughly. 

It feels odd at first, because of course it’s only natural that you’ll be uncomfortable when you hug someone who’s essentially a stranger. But then you let yourself relax against him, and end up getting a feeling reminiscent of when you hugged Shoyo just moments before.

“Happy now?” Kenma’s voice is muffled but you can still clearly understand him, enough to know that he probably wants you to let go. 

You back away with a cheeky smile, “I’m never happy.”

His eyebrows furrow disbelievingly, “Well don’t you just seem like a bundle of joy.”

There's the streamer you know.

“Oh!” You suddenly remember what you’d been doing previously, anxiously looking back at where you were sitting. “Let’s go get my stuff.” You turn to make your way back to your seat, the men trailing closely behind you. 

“We’re leaving already?” You hear Sho ask and you glance back at him with a confused expression. 

“What do you mean?” Realization dawns on you as you’re grabbing your purse. You look at Kenma with a glare, “Did you not tell him what we’re doing?”

The plan for the day was simple; meet at the cafe, then travel from said cafe to Kenma’s house, where you would have all the time in the world to cuddle with some cats. 

Kenma looks at you incredulously, “Of course I did. Right Sho?” 

“Yeah. I just wanted some food first,” the shorter man laughs. 

“We can grab some before we go.” Kenma suddenly raises an eyebrow, “Did you follow through with your end of the deal?” 

You smirk, “Do you even have to ask?” You reach over to grab the white bakery box sitting on the table just besides your phone. 

“You put it in a box?” 

“Of course I put it in a box, I’m not a savage.” 

You notice Kenma lean towards Shoyo as you hand him the pie, “Is it normal to put a pie in a box?” 

Shoyo leans in even closer, “I have no idea.” 

You lean in too, lifting a free hand to cup your mouth, “You guys suck at whispering.” 

~~~

“Honey, I’m home!” You giggle as you enter the foyer, glancing back at Kenma as he lets the door fall closed behind him. 

“You know I have a roommate right?” He shakes his head as he steps past you, gesturing for you both to follow him as he walks deeper into the house. 

You tilt your head, “Oh you mean your ex best friend?”

He turns to look back at you with a deadpan expression, “There is something seriously wrong with you.” 

Kenma suddenly stops in what appears to be the kitchen, pulling out a chair at the marble island set just a few feet across from the kitchen sink. You sit in it before he can, directing a cheeky smile in his direction, “Thanks.” 

He sends you a sarcastic grin, “Oh yeah no problem. I definitely wasn’t trying to sit there or anything.” 

Shoyo sits in the chair next to you while Kenma drifts slightly away to open a drawer and grabs something. Shoyo then sets his food on the counter, ripping open into his bag of chips and unfolding the wrapper of his sandwich. 

Kenma takes the seat next to him, pulling the pie box towards him in order to lift the lid. You lean forward to eye him, “Are you trying to eat my homemade apple pie cold right now?” 

The streamer sighs out of clear frustration, his spoon falling from his hand and falling onto the countertop with a low clang. “How am I supposed to eat it then huh? Do I have to put it back in the oven or something?”  

“What?” You shake your head, “No but the microwave would do a lot.” You get up, making your way around Shoyo to grab the pie from him. “Do you have a pie slicer?”

He looks up at you expressionlessly, “You realize I eat pie every other day, right?”

“You realize I know nothing about you, right?” You sigh, rounding the island and setting it next to the kitchen sink. “Where is it?” 

“In the drawer right where you’re standing.” 

Well that’s convenient, you think to yourself as you step back slightly to pull open the drawer. You’re a little shocked by what you see to be honest; it’s full of cooking and baking utensils, all well organized and put in their rightful place. Thanks to this though, you’re able to find the pie slicer within only a couple seconds, setting it on the counter as you close the drawer. 

You cut a relatively big slice out of the apple pie, “Where’s the plates?” 

“Here,” you flinch as a glass plate is suddenly set on the counter beside you. “Sorry,” Kenma mutters when he notices your reaction, his voice so low that you almost don’t hear it. 

“It’s fine,” you say in return, despite the fact that you’re still kind of shaken from his unexpected closeness. 

You set the piece onto the plate, barely even having time to react before Kenma is lifting the plate and moving across the kitchen. He puts it in the microwave in almost record time, closing the door and then just standing there. 

You only wait a few seconds before he abruptly looks back at you with an expectant expression. “Well? How long?” 

“Oh,” right, “Fifty-two seconds.” 

His eyebrows furrow, “You’re kidding.” 

“I never lie about pie,” you tell him seriously. But then you sigh, rolling your eyes when he doesn’t move to start the microwave.  “Forty five seconds is too cold, fifty five seconds is too hot, and fifty-two is my lucky number.” 

He looks at you like you’re insane but doesn’t argue any further, “Whatever you say.” 

You turn to make eye contact with Shoyo, leaning against the counter as you fold your arms across your chest. “Do you want a piece, Sho?” 

He grins at you, “Hell yeah I do.” 

“Are you offering my pie to other people right in front of me?” 

You shoot Kenma a look, “You mean my pie.” You straighten, “And yes. I am.” 

Kenma looks at Shoyo, “You’re lucky I like you.” He pulls open a cabinet just to the right of the microwave, grabbing two more of the same white plates he’d used for himself earlier. 

You plate another slice before pausing to stare at the third dish sat before you. “What’s this for?” 

“My pet fish,” he answers sarcastically. “Who do you think it’s for, Y/N?” 

“Well sorry I can’t read your mind,” you retort. Sure you’d had an idea of who it was for but you didn’t want to use it for yourself before he’d confirmed it. 

By the time you’ve finished microwaving your own slice of pie, both Shoyo and Kenma are standing in the entranceway waiting for you. “What are we doing,” you ask, completely clueless as to why they’re standing. 

“We’re planning on watching a movie,” Shoyo explains. 

“Oh okay,” you grab your phone with your free hand, following behind them as they leave the room. 

“You know,” you announce as you’re walking down a set of stairs, “I’m kind of surprised that we haven’t come across any cats yet.” 

You see Kenma nod, “Yeah they tend to stay away from the main floor of the house; it’s colder than every other floor.” 

“Even the basement?” 

He looks back at you with an eyebrow raised, “I’m not some fiend that leaves my basement in negative two degrees like some people. Both Kuro’s and I’s bedrooms are down here.” 

“Oh,” you suppose that makes sense. 

“See look,” you all reach the end of the staircase, where Kenma pauses to point out two cats lying on the last step. “This is Mars and Dusty.” 

“Oh my gosh,” you practically squeal, forgetting that two other people are currently standing on the stairs with you as you step forward. Shoyo stumbles into Kenma at the movement, to which the taller man barely manages to avoid the cats as his feet make contact with the landing. 

You gasp, your hand reaching up to cover your mouth as Kenma looks up at you with wide eyes. And sure you feel bad but you’re still completely unable to hold back your laughter at his expression. 

He watches you giggle, his facial features growing even more incredulous the longer you laugh. “You literally almost killed the first two cats we came across and you still want me to let you cuddle them?” 

“Wait wait wait,” you panic as he reaches down and scoops up the two cats with his free hand. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be laughing I just-,” you cut yourself off with a snort, “I just was not ready for you to look at me like that.”

He shakes his head, “What the hell is wrong with you?” And while the words themselves could be considered harsh he can’t even hide his smile as he says it. 

You tuck your phone into the waistband of your skirt, silently praying that it won’t fall out as you reach towards him with your free hand. “I promise I’ll be gentle,” you tell him.

He hesitates. 

“Please,” you pout. And you feel completely pathetic as you do because you’re literally begging to hold a cat right now. (But - to be fair- it’s a really cute cat.)

You can see the exact moment Kenma’s resolve breaks, his shoulder’s relaxing as his expression falls. 

He sighs, his head falling back to look skyward as he finally gives in, “Fine.”

“Yay!” You’re practically bouncing on your feet, your smile wide as you step down to the bottom stair and become eye level with Kenma. 

“But,” he suddenly says and you pause mid-cheer, “Let’s go sit down first.” 

You immediately nod, “Okay.” 

You don’t care where he wants you, to be entirely honest; as long as you get to cuddle with some cats.

Taglist: @crazy-people-are-here, @existential-traveller, @peachesncats, @royalz658, @musicluverr, @tamimemo, @leathernourishingshoepolish

Any names in bold are unable to be tagged.

[liskantope]

I of course agree about disliking this thing where people go "X political opponent of mine is weird and awkward, haha", including when it comes from Democrats. In addition to it simply being ableist and hurtful to people who have struggled with social skills - I'm certainly no fan of J. D. Vance, and I imagine you aren't either. But I think there are lots of very intelligent, thoughtful people who would make great policy decisions but aren't especially socially charismatic. (1/2)

(2/2) I really don't think it's a good idea for liberals to reinforce a norm that such people should be disqualified from office.

(This is regarding this post from 10 days ago -- I've been really busy with the new academic semester and so am struggling to find time and the right mindspace to respond to stuff on Tumblr.)

You're right that I'm no fan of Vance: his book that made him famous might have some merits for all I know (I haven't read it), but at least since then he seems to be a completely phony chameleon, and, worst of all, he's chosen to run on a ticket with Trump, which is pretty automatically disqualifying for my respect. That, and all his vitriol towards childless people and cat ladies and so on is much worse than any of the specific examples of ableist undertones I see from the other side.

I'll also say that all the ridicule of Walz's son for standing up and tearfully shouting "That's my dad!" a bit non-neurotypically after Walz's words of love for his children (ugh! God forbid! actual exemplary family values are just dumb and cringey, at least if they come from Democrats!) made me far angrier than any kind of ableism that would come from David Pakman. The only reason I didn't go on a rant about it here is that I already got it out of my system on Facebook. And there's plenty of other garbage coming from the Trump/Vance side about Harris laughing a little strangely (supposedly? her laugh seems pretty normal to me) which makes her intolerable and so forth.

Still, two wrongs don't make a right.

And anyway, I agree that social skills shouldn't be considered such a huge factor in what makes for a qualified politician -- it does need to be somewhat of a factor, but I wish we didn't live in a world where most public support for politicians is based on vibes and most vibes come from superficial mannerisms. It wasn't true 150 years ago and is an unfortunate product of our modern technological world.

Also, if Pakman and his ilk want to point out that Vance was very awkward in the donut shop by typical politician standards and this doesn't bode too well for him because that's how politics works, I wouldn't really have a problem with that. (That's essentially the treatment they gave deSantis.) It's the "ha ha ha, nyah nyah nyah" -flavored mockery, which comes across as being independent of the context of politicians being held to extremely high standards of charisma, that gets to me.

I also might as well mention (though this is less in response to your ask) that this came somewhat in the wake of an earlier Pakman clip that I mentioned in the other post that I was even more annoyed by, didn't bother to post about it at the time, but I just recovered it. Seriously, Pakman, in an uncharacteristically halting way, says the following in anticipation of showing Vance issuing a few kind of evasive and sub-par answers at an event and being a little awkward by politician standards but still less awkward than most ordinary people in their everyday lives:

The only -- uh -- how can I even say this?... The only people I know personally who are this uncharismatic-seeming... Man, it's just so hard to say this without sounding so offensive. There's, like, some explanation, um, that sometimes is... medical in nature... uh, it just sounds so horrible to say... I-I guess what I'm trying to say is, it's... it's a personality that he seems to have that is really an edge case. It's a fringe personality of some way to be this unappealing as a person, some traits of which sometimes connect to medical explanations -- I don't believe they do with JD Vance -- I think he's just really a horrible person, is what I'm trying to say. I hope I'm being kinda like sensitive and not offending anybody.

He can worry as much as he wants about coming across ableist, but, well, what he says is still what he says.

[oakwolves]

Still I’m glad for what we had and how I once loved you - Hannah/MC

Ironically before another french test I am thinking about Rosalyn's love life and writing a one-shot about it.

Rosalyn brought her motorcycle to a sliding stop, taking in the open space of the ranch. She spotted Hannah leaning against the fence. Her face was unreadable. Rosalyn grinned shyly at her after taking off her helmet, hoping to make her smile. Hannah’s lips were pulled into a grim line, unchanging as Rosalyn approached.

Hannah pushed off the rail, crossing her arms as Rosalyn approached. Her silence was uncharacteristic, her gaze cool and assessing. Rosalyn shifted uncomfortably.

“It’s been a while, doll,” Hannah said. The use of her nickname gave her a small sense of comfort, and she lowered her guard a little.

“I uh, I figured you found out about the Charlene thing,” she said sheepishly. “Look, I was meaning to tell you, but it all happened so fast. B-but I did get her back to her stable eventually!”

“Are… are you serious?” Hannah said incredulously.

“I’m sorry, Hannah,  I really didn’t mean–”

“I’m not talking about the horse, doll.”

“Then, what?” she asked. Hannah sighed.

“Can’t believe I’m having this kind of conversation,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Rosalyn let out a nervous chuckle, unease creeping into her voice. “I… I don’t understand, Hannah. What are you talking about?”

“Rosalyn,” Hannah said coldly. “If you’re going to play dumb, why even come here? Why not just keep hiding away from me like you didn’t humiliate me a few weeks ago.”

Rosalyn’s heart sank, and she stepped forwards as she reached for Hannah.

“Hannah, I didn’t mean–”

“You didn’t mean to laugh in my face when I asked to become official and for you to be my girlfriend?” she snapped, her eyes glistening as she stepped back.

Rosalyn flinched back, hurt etched across her features. "I...it wasn’t like that. I was… surprised, that’s all. I never intended for it to come across that way."

“I just figured… after the time we spent after I came to your school, the evenings I held you close as we watched the sunset together…. Maybe we could’ve…” Hannah’s face softened as she talked. “We could’ve been a lot more.”

Rosalyn’s heart ached at Hannah’s words. The memory of those quiet evenings, huddled together in the soft glow of the setting sun, flooded her mind. She remembered the way her head rested on Hannah’s shoulder, the warmth of her arms around her. Those moments had been some of the most tender and precious in her life. 

In that moment, standing in the open ranch, it all felt like a distant memory, obscured by the hurt and confusion that filled the air between them. She couldn’t deny the fact that she cared deeply for Hannah, but when those memories became less and less like dreams,  she panicked as soon as they touched her.

She didn't know how to explain it. How she had trouble putting a name to the feelings she thought lay dormant and deep in her soul that Hannah roused. 

"I don't know," she said at last, her voice barely above a whisper. "I guess I just... wasn't ready for it. I wasn't ready for us. I’m still figuring myself out."

Hannah’s face hardened, her body tensing like a coiled spring. “Figure yourself out?” she echoed mockingly, her voice dripping with scorn. “Is that what I was? A phase for you to figure yourself out?”

Rosalyn winced like she'd been slapped. “No, it's not like that,” she protested. “Hannah, you mean more to me than just a phase. But I'm confused. My life is... complicated. I didn't want to lead you on, I didn't--"

This time, Hannah laughed. It wasn’t her typically boisterous, joyous voice with snorting in the middle. Her voice sounded clipped and forced.

"That's exactly what you did, Rosalyn. Every time you came to my ranch, every time you let me hold you, hold your hand, kiss you. We laughed and talked for hours, sharing secrets in the silence of the night. I sang to you. No one but my horses has heard me sing. And now you're telling me things are complicated and you don't know what you want?"

“It... it's not like that. I've done this with other close friends. I didn't think it meant..."

"Yeah?” Hannah interrupted. "You do this with all your friends? Hold their hand? Kiss them? Do they all share secrets like we do?”

“We were close. It was something I needed after the year I’d had before I started Lakeside.” Rosalyn knew she was digging a deeper hole for herself by rambling excuses, but she didn’t know what else she could say. “My last school was a nightmare, I lost my friends and my old boyfriend and–”

“We’ve been through this song and dance,” Hannah cut in, her disdain palpable as she circled Rosalyn. “Poor city girl got her heart broken and suddenly needed a dose of a humble farm girl who doesn’t know any better to make her feel better. I was your little bandage, wasn’t I? Is that what you do with your friends? The one's you're close with? We give you the love of a boyfriend to fill the void without the realness it comes with? Only this time, I caught on to what you were doing.”

Rosalyn’s mind was a whirl of emotions as Hannah’s words hit her like knives. 

"No!” she protested, voice hoarse. “It wasn’t like that at all. With anyone. But especially not with you, Hannah, I promise–”

But Hannah cut her off, her gaze cold and hard. "Spare me the explanation. Your actions spoke louder than words."

Rosalyn clenched her fists at her sides, a mix of anger and guilt welling up in her chest. Her heart ached with how this was all spiraling out of control.

 “I didn’t mean for it to become this, okay? I should’ve said something, kept you from getting too close, but when you…” she paused, searching for the right words. “Your embrace was comforting, your presence felt like home. It was more than I could’ve asked for, but I wasn’t ready for it to get deeper than that. And I don’t know when I will be ready to take the plunge.”

Hannah studied Rosalyn for a moment, her eyes cool and inscrutable. Then, she stepped back, putting up a wall between them. "Your indecision isn't a good enough excuse, doll," she said quietly. “Finding out who you are and what you want isn’t easy, I know how that feels. But I’m not someone you can just string along until you figure yourself out. I have feelings too.”

"I... I don't know what to say," Rosalyn admitted, her voice quavering. "I never meant to hurt you like this. I just… I just wish I could go back to that night under the stars and make things right.” 

She was lost in the memory, the peaceful silence only broken by Hannah’s soft breathing beside her. She could almost smell the crisp night air, see the glow of the fire in the distance and feel the warmth of Hannah’s body pressed against hers. Hannah looked at her silently, her expression softening a fraction as she too seemed to be thinking back to that same moment. But the memory was tainted now, covered in the shadow of their current predicament. Hannah's eyes hardened again and she shook her head.

 “You can’t go back, Rosalyn. You’d probably just freeze again, or run off. Or laugh.”

Rosalyn flinched, the words hitting her like a slap. It was true. She had frozen then, unable to process the emotions that were suddenly laid on her lap. And in her panic, she did laugh, a nervous, involuntary reaction that hurt Hannah more than any insult ever could.

“I regret it,” Rosalyn said finally. “More than you know.”

“I know you do, doll,” Hannah said softly, holding Rosalyn’s face in her hands gently. “Unfortunately regret isn’t enough to fix this. It’s not gonna negate how much it hurt when you laughed.”

As Hannah said the words, her voice cracked slightly, and Rosalyn felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over her. Every fiber in her being ached to reach out and pull Hannah into a tight embrace, to hold her close and whisper apologies over and over until the world righted itself. Hannah must've read the desire in Rosalyn's face because she dropped her hands and took a step back, putting a much-needed distance between them.

“Hannah…”

 "We can't go back, Rosalyn," she continued, her voice firm despite the sadness in her eyes. "We can't undo what's been done. These past few months have been amazing… but I can't keep waiting for you to make up your mind. I won't be anyone's experiment or safety net."

Rosalyn nodded, her heart heavy. She knew Hannah was right. The damage was done, and the trust they'd built had been shaken. Rosalyn had to face reality: she hurt Hannah, and their relationship couldn't just be mended with words alone.

"I... I understand," she murmured, her voice filled with resignation.

Hannah gave a small nod, acknowledging Rosalyn's concession. "Good," she said quietly. "I hope you figure things out for yourself, Rosalyn. I really do. But please, figure it out without me. I... I need my space. My heart needs its space."

"Goodbye, Hannah." she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Goodbye, Rosalyn," Hannah replied quietly, her shoulders tense. Her eyes held a mixture of sadness and resolve, as if she were forcing herself to say the words. Just like that, she turned and walked away, leaving Rosalyn standing alone in the ranch, her heart in shambles.

[goldenlaurelleaveswrites]

Juleka vs. the Forces of the Universe

Ch16 Juleka vs. the Forces of Alya Césaire

Juleka vs. the Forces of the Universe (AO3)

There are a couple of people I need to thank for this chapter.

First of all, a big thank you to @mintaka14, for letting me borrow Roarr's name for makeup from Living Arrangements (It's such a good read and I highly recommend it).

And a huge thank you to @verfound for helping me through the crisis of confidence this chapter gave me, and for beating some sense into me (with love and giggles as you pointed out all my dumb typos 😂). I would still be spinning myself in circles if it weren't for you, so thank you for beta reading this!!! 💖💖💖💖 And for letting Dingo and Bri stay when they insistent on being mentioned in this chapter 😂

Finally, a huge thank you to all of you for the ongoing support and kindness. It really means so much to me, and I can't thank you enough.

A little bit of house keeping now. The next chapter is likely going to take quite a bit of time, especially because I have bits and pieces of it written and it always takes longer to write a chapter that already has pieces I need to integrate in.

Also, I'm issuing a content warning for this chapter. Juleka's anxiety is very prevalent in this chapter. I don't describe it in detail, but it is present in the majority of the chapter. Please use your best judgement when deciding if this is something you're comfortable with. I would much rather you take care of yourself and skip a chapter than read something that might upset or trigger you. 💖

With all of the being said, I hope you enjoy the chapter!!! 💖💖💖💖

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The classroom was warm, just shy of uncomfortably so. And Bustier’s voice was nothing but cloying white noise; she had no idea what her teacher had been droning on about for the past half hour, and she sincerely doubted anyone else did either. 

All of their year end tests were written and done. Their projects submitted. Their lockers mostly cleared out. 

Now all that was left to do was make it to the end of the second last day of classes. 

Sleepily, she blinked her eyes and let her attention wander to the rest of the class. It seemed they were all paying as much attention to Bustier as she was. Ivan was drumming out a beat on his desk with his fingers, bopping his head along to the nearly indecipherable sound. Alix was leaning back in her seat, and was barely making an effort to hide the fact that she was playing on her phone. Kim was out cold, and Max and Markov were reading something on Max’s phone. Nathaniel was drawing, and beside her, Rose was doodling. 

She let out a sleepy sigh as her gaze drifted towards the front of the classroom. Chloe and Sabrina’s seats were empty; apparently they were skipping again. It wasn’t like they were missing much. She propped her cheek in her hand as her gaze travelled across the aisle. 

Adrien had been in a funk all day. He had tried to hide it, but little cracks in his facade had let it shine through. But it seemed everyone had assumed it was because the school year was almost over, and he wouldn’t see them every day anymore. At lunch, most of the class had tried to console him, assuring him that when he wasn’t busy or travelling over the summer that they would all hang out and that they would call and text. Maybe that was contributing to his funk. But given the argument he had had with Ladybug last night… well, her money was on that. 

She was still on edge from last night. 

And given the look Chat had given her last night… In all honesty, they were just lucky Shadowmoth needed time to recharge between akumas. That, and that—according to Roarr—wearing a miraculous provided some protection against akumatization. Otherwise… 

Well, they were all lucky they were just dealing with a moping classmate. That, and… 

Marinette had been uncharacteristically quiet today. Her mind had very obviously been elsewhere for most of the day. She assumed everything that had gone down last night was what had Marinette so preoccupied. Pensive even. 

During morning break, after Marinette and Nathaniel had gone to the art room to discuss some costume ideas for the comic with Marc, when she had been coming back from the washroom she had overheard Alya telling the rest of the girls Marinette was obviously thinking about summer break and Adrien. 

She turned her attention to Alya and Nino. 

They were very obviously texting each other. Which, to be fair, wasn’t exactly uncommon. Or something to be suspicious about. But considering the way Alya had been acting the past couple of weeks… 

That, and every so often, Nino would sneak a glance back at her. 

Well, sneak was being generous… It was obvious he was either trying to be subtle, or that he thought he was being subtle. Either way, he wasn’t. M. Damocles always gave her grief about her hair, asking her how she could see with her hair covering half her face. What he—and many people for that matter—seemed to forget was that hair was hardly a brick wall. Sure, it obscured her vision a bit. But she could see through her hair well enough to see Nino glancing back at her over his shoulder every time he thought she wasn’t looking. Just like she saw Alya kick the back of his bench every time she caught him looking back at her. 

Really, it was a wonder Bustier hadn’t noticed what was going on. 

Honestly, she had to wonder if Bustier had noticed her class wasn’t paying attention and was letting it slide, or if she actually was that oblivious.

She stifled a yawn as she directed her gaze to the clock. The time was crawling by. She could swear that clock had said twenty after three for the past half hour. 

Sighing, she dragged her gaze away from the clock. It seemed a watched clock didn’t move anyways….

Her frown returned as her eyes settled on Adrien once again. 

The past few weeks had been hard, having to be civil to Adrien in class when she knew he was Chat. When he was making her life a headache with his constant whining and tantrums. But coming into class this morning… it had been really hard to act normally towards him. Thankfully, he never really interacted with her all that much anyways, but he hadgreeter her along with the rest of the class when she had come in. 

And she had done her best. 

She really had. 

But she had maybe been a little… cool with her greeting. Which was frankly way more than he deserved. The good thing about being quiet was that people generally didn’t take note when she was extra quiet, and they didn’t tend to pick up on the nuances of her voice. Rose would have, and so would Marinette. But neither of them had been there when she had entered the room. So no one had really seemed to notice. 

Except… 

Alya’s eyes had narrowed as soon as she had mumbled her reply to Adrien. It was hard to tell if Alya knew she had seen the way her eyes had narrowed, given she had caught it out of the corner of her eye herself. But she knew she hadn’t imagined it, because as soon as she did look directly at Alya, her expression had shifted into a casual smile.  

But she had felt eyes on her as she had made her way back to her seat. 

She didn’t like it. All the hidden looks and glances from Alya. Coupled with those messages- the curt and deleted ones, And the pushiness and insistence on her voicing her support for the schemes… 

It was weird. 

But Nino… 

She cast a surreptitious glance down at Nino. He quickly turned away, his hat slipping with the movement. Subtle indeed. He couldn’t have been more blatant if he had tried. 

As weird as Alya had been the past couple of weeks…well, it was even weirder coming from him.

She sighed. There was no real point in dwelling on it though. Alya… she didn’t like to think about it, but Alya was definitely getting suspicious. That was the only explanation- though if Alya was suspicious, why was she still insisting on her helping with the schemes? 

It didn’t make sense. 

Regardless, if Alya was suspicious, well, it was safe to assume she had shared her suspicions with Nino. 

This… complicated things. 

She would need to be even more careful going forward.

Sighing to herself, she folded her arms on her desk and rested her chin on them. At least, if she was deep in thought, she would look like she was paying attention if Bustier clued in to the fact her lesson was going unheard. 

***

They were gathered at the base of the front steps to the school, a little off to the side so as not to end up trampled by the steady stream of students emerging from the building, clearly excited by the prospect of only one day left in the school year. 

“And you’re sure you don’t have time for ice cream?” Alya wheedled. “I can text Nino. He and the guys were going to shoot some hoops, but I’m sure they wouldn’t mind a change of plans. You know Adrien loves Andre’s ice cream.” 

She had to fight to keep herself from rolling her eyes. 

Even if  that particular ploy was weak by Alya’s standards, Alya was never one to miss an opportunity… 

Marinette shook her head, and she could have sworn she caught sight of her rolling her eyes… “No, I need to head home. I still need to finish my dress.” 

“Are you going to finish in time?” Mylène asked worriedly. 

Marinette nodded. “It’ll probably be cutting it a bit close, but I’ll have it done.”  

“I can wait to see it,” Rose sighed dreamily, “I can’t even imagine what you’ve cooked up this time!”

“Neither can I,” Alya agreed. “And it doesn’t help that my bestie won’t even give me a sneak peek,” Alya added in a playfully pointed voice. 

Marinette let out a semi-exasperated sigh. “I told you, it isn’t ready to be seen yet. Besides, you’ll all see it tomorrow.” 

“Fine, fine. But you can’t blame a girl for trying,” Alya laughed. “But you’re going to look amazing, I just know Adrien won’t be able to take his eyes off of you!” 

Marinette’s smile faltered for a second at Alya’s words, before returning. But it was tighter than before. Less genuine. 

“I’m just looking forward to wearing it,” Marinette said noncommittally. 

“I sure hope so, given how much time you’ve been spending on it. You missed one heck of a race last weekend. You should have seen how close-”

“I’m sure there will be plenty more races for Marinette to watch,” Mylène said, gently cutting Alix off before she could get too far into regaling them with every detail of the race. Again. 

“When’s the next one?” 

“Third day of break,” Alix grinned, “We both figured we would want to sleep in after the dance and Max has a dentist appointment the second day of break.” 

“I think that should work! We could do a picnic?’ 

“A victory picnic, I like it!” 

“You haven’t won yet,” she mumbled with a chuckle. 

Alix stuck her tongue out at her. “Yet.” 

“Anyways, I should get going…” Marinette said, taking an awkward little half-step back. “The dress won’t finish itself after all.” 

“Of course. Text if you need anything?” she asked.  

“Or if you’re bored!” Rose added as she stepped in to hug Marinette as well. 

“I will,” Marinette promised; there was a hint of laughter in her voice. She may have have been responding to Rose… but Marinette’s eyes were on her. With a smile, Marinette stepped forward and hugged her goodbye. 

Over Marinette’s head, she caught what looked like a frown flickering across Alya’s face. But then Marinette was pulling away, and once she had stepped back out of the hug, the look on Alya’s face was gone. 

Once all the goodbye hugs were exchanged, and Marinette was out of sight, Alya turned to the rest of them. “Ok, since ice cream was a bust, we can head straight to my place. It’s probably a good thing anyways, we have lots to get through.”

She fell into step with the rest of the group as they made their way towards Alya’s place, though she lagged a little behind Alya, Alix, and Mylène. As they made their way through the streets, Alya began going through a list of things they would need to prepare for one of the many plans they had cooked up for tomorrow. 

Because of course it couldn’t just be one plan.  

Alya had insisted that they plan multiple schemes. 

Each of which, of course, had a ridiculous name. 

“So for phase ‘Belle of the Ball,’ we’ll need to make sure…”  She only listened with half an ear as she followed along behind the rest of the girls. They had spent the past two weeks cooking up all of these plots, she knew them like the back of her own hand. They all did, as Alix had pointed out when protesting to this last scheming session. 

But Alya had insisted. 

As Alya had pointed out—while casting a glance in her direction—something always went wrong with the plans. And that meant they had to be ready. 

Under other circumstances—before she had found herself going toe to toe with Alya—she found Alya’s tenacity and determination admirable. She was bold and willing to do whatever it took to reach her goals. She was the very definition of if at first you don’t succeed…

The thing was, she couldn’t help but wonder… it wasn’t just that Alya’s scheming was bad for Marinette… at times… most of the time, the more she thought about it… it felt like it was bad for Alya. 

Alya was tenacious. Determined. Though some people might say headstrong or even pig-headed. Alya wasn’t afraid to go after what she wanted. And, despite what her actions may have screamed, she cared about her friends’ happiness. 

The problem was, Alya had something of a tunnel vision problem. She was so fixated on the idea of Marinette liking Adrien that she couldn’t—or maybe wouldn’t—acknowledge the fact that Marinette had moved on. Just like how she was so caught up in the pursuit of Ladybug’s identity, and the idea of Ladybug and Chat Noir being destined soulmates that she couldn’t see what was staring her straight in the face. 

“You ok?” Rose’s voice jolted her from her thoughts. She looked down at Rose, who had fallen into step beside her. “You looked far away,” Rose said as she slipped her hand into hers. 

“Yeah,” she tried to muster a smile. The feeling of Rose’s hand in hers made it much easier, despite the dour thoughts clouding her mind. “Just thinking,” she said as she laced her fingers with Rose’s. 

***

She sat in silence as Alya stuck a pin into another colour-coded scrap of paper to fix it to her cork board. The cork board was covered in a rainbow of scraps of paper, each colour indicating a different person, with the scheme name, details, and phase number outlined on them. 

It was a technicolour disaster. 

And the more of the schemes—which were all phases in the ‘Operation Fairytale Ball’ plot—Alya added to the board, the more she could feel a headache brewing. 

It was honestly impressive how Alya managed to keep track of all the details of the various schemes and plots. If journalism didn’t work out for her, Alya had a bright future in tactical mission planning ahead of her. 

“…so then when he sees the punch ladle is missing, he’ll have to ask her where the spare ones are. And then when she offers to go, Rose, you mention we need more napkins too and suggest Adrien help her.”

Rose made a sound of agreement, not looking up from the plethora of nail polish bottles she had spread out on the floor in front of her. 

“And then Juleka, while they’re gone, you’ll find Luka and keep him busy. By the time they get back, we’ll be ready for Phase: Glass Slipper.” Alya finally peeled her gaze away from the cork board to stare at her. Hard. “You’ll be able to do that, right?” There was a challenge in the way Alya was staring at her. It was almost like… like she was testing her. 

“It’s a plan,” she murmured. It was a plan. A terrible one. One she had no intention of carrying out. But it was a plan. 

Alya’s eyes hardened at her words. She had been careful to phrase it as the truth. Well, a half-truth. The words were true. But the intention behind them had been a lie. 

And Alya did not look satisfied: her eyes were hard and narrowed behind her glasses.

Alya opened her mouth to say something, but Mylène of all people interrupted her. “And that’s where the faux flowers come in, right? And what flowers were you thinking?” 

She could have answered those questions: yes and red roses. Because they symbolized ‘true love.’ 

At least all the other colours of roses hadn’t been ruined for her… 

Alya shot her one last look before turning to Mylène. “We need red roses; they’re the most romantic flowers. And yeah, once they come back they’ll…” 

She fought back a frown as best she could as Alya launched into going over every excruciating detail of the next phase of the operation. 

After the countless hours they had spent cooking up and reviewing these schemes, how could Mylène not remember the flowers? The flowers she was in charge of?

She shook her head to try and clear her thoughts. But as Alya continued on her tirade of the operation, her mind couldn’t help but wander. 

And it seemed she wasn’t the only one… 

Alix was paying barely—if any—attention to the whole conversation. She was flopped out on Alya’s bed with her legs up the wall and her eyes glued to the screen of her phone. 

Rose was on the floor, surrounded by an army of nail polish bottles. All in varying shades of pink. It seemed she still hadn’t decided on which shade of pink would go best with her outfit for tomorrow. 

Mylène was sitting beside Alix on the bed, though she wasn’t upside-down. She was sitting cross legged, with a pillow in her lap and her chin propped up in her hand, a bored look on her face.  

“And then you’ll keep Luka occupied so he doesn’t interrupt them, right, Juleka?” 

She jumped at the sudden sound of Alya—very pointedly—saying her name. “Sorry, what?” 

“You’ll make sure Luka- or anyone else for that matter, doesn’t ruin the moment.” 

“I’ll do my best.” 

Alya didn’t look satisfied by the answer, but she continued on. Time seemed to drag by as they went through the next four phases of the operation. And it didn’t help that it felt like Alya was asking her something every other minute. 

And she did not like how loaded the questions felt. 

She did not like it one bit. 

“…and because Nino isn’t doing the music, you’ll probably need to stall for a while, Alix, while I-” 

“Y’know, I really don’t see the point of this,“ Alix groaned. 

“What? What are you talking about?” Alya demanded as she turned to look at Alix as she crossed her arms. 

She followed Alya’s gaze, and watched as Alix rolled to right herself and sit up. “We’ve been over these plans a billiontimes, Alya,” Alix complained before looking back down at her game.  

“We have been reviewing them a lot,” Mylène quietly agreed. 

“But we have to!”

“Do we?” 

Alya’s gaze snapped to her so quickly, it was a miracle she didn’t have whiplash. “Of course we do. Don’t you want Marinette and Adrien to be happy?” 

She hesitated; it suddenly felt like she was standing in the middle of a minefield. She needed to weigh her words carefully. “Of course I want Marinette to be happy. But she’s already going with Luka.  Can’t we just let them enjoy the evening? Can’t we just enjoy the evening? Without scheming?” She certainly wouldn’t object to a scheme free evening. 

“Juleka does have a point-“ Rose started to say. 

“You’re only saying that because she’s going with your brother.” 

Back before she had seen Marinette transform, had she found herself on the receiving end of such a glare, she would have shrunk in on herself. She would have faded into the background. Even a month ago, before she had become a tigress, she probably would have. It was the easy thing to do. Far easier than standing up to anyone.   

But she was a tigress now. 

And tigresses knew how to fade into the background. To move about unseen and undetected. 

But they also knew how to roar. 

“No, I’m not. I just want her- everyone to enjoy the night. I want Marinette to be happy and-”

“And that’s what I want!”

“That’s what we all want-” Rose started to say, only to be cut off again. 

“After all the time she’s spent pining over Adrien, trying so hard to get him to notice her, you just want her to give up?” She met Alya’s glare with stoney silence. But before she could muster up words to redirect this conversation, or at least stall it, Alya’s eyes narrowed even further. “I knew it!” she hissed. “I knew something weird was going on-“

“Oh not this again,” Alix groaned. 

“Not what again?” 

Mylène—who at some point had gotten up—stepped forward tentatively, hands held out as if trying to placate. Though she wasn’t sure if it was her or Alya she was trying to calm. “Alya thinks-“

“I know-“

“Alya thinks you’ve been messing with the Adrien plans…”

Shoot. “What?”

“I told you it was dumb, Alya,” Alix said pointedly before looking up from her game to look at her. “She thinks you’ve been plotting against us.”

Shoot shoot shoot shoot shoot. 

“We told her it was just little miscommunications and accidents-“ Mylène started to say, only to be cut off. 

“But I know it’s been more than that!”

“But Juleka wouldn’t lie to us!” Rose cried out indignantly, knocking over one of her bottles on nail polish as she stood up.

“Everybody lies. Right, Juleka?” 

Alya was right. She would lie. She had lied to them. For months.  But she had done it for Marinette’s sake! 

And now this left her with a dilemma…

Was it better to come clean and tell them? Or was it better to stay quiet?

If she told them, she would have to tell them that Marinette had told her that she wanted to be with Luka. But Marinette had sworn her to secrecy, and she couldn’t betray Marinette’s trust. But if she didn’t come clean, she would be lying to them, which, granted, she had been doing every time she meddled with a plot… but those had always been little white lies! 

Hadn’t they? 

What was the right thing to do? 

She could hear the blood rushing past her ears.  It was the only sound she could hear. Everything - everyone - was silent. They were all just… just silent. Staring at her, waiting for her to- were they waiting for her to respond? Were they waiting for Alya to say something? 

She was suffocating in the weight of the silence. 

What was she supposed to do? 

How did she get herself out of this? 

“Come on Alya, that’s enough,” Mylène reprimanded. Her usually quiet voice was like thunder in the silence room. Suddenly, they were all talking

“Just let it go, it’s a stupid thing to fight about-” Alix added, only to be cut off.

“It’s not stupid! It’s-”

“Bijou, it’s ok. Just breathe…” 

All of their voices were overlapping. Blending into each other until they were an almost indistinguishable cacophony. All muffled by the blood rushing past her ears and the thoughts ricocheting around in her head. 

What was she supposed to do?

She needed quiet. Peace. To think. 

She needed to get away.

But how?

For once, Shadowmoth was her saving grace. 

The akuma alert blared from all of their phones. She jumped at the sound.  Alix was the only one who hadn’t, actually. Then again, Alix had been the only one to be somewhat disengaged in the growing tension over the Adrienette plots. As Alix had said when they had settled into the meeting, she had mostly been there for the snacks. 

Quickly, she scanned the akuma alert. There wasn’t much information about it, but it was by the tower. 

Why was it always the tower? It was like akumas and tourists thought that was the only important place in Paris. 

But it didn’t matter. 

She needed to leave. She needed to be somewhere Ladybug could easily find her if she needed help with this one. And given last night… it was a pretty good possibility. 

She froze when she looked up from her phone, her words dying on her lips. She could also see Alya’s desperation to go to ground zero of the akuma battle. 

But Alya also looked like she wasn’t done arguing yet. 

As it was, Alya was at an impasse. Both with herself and with her. 

Because Alya couldn’t stay to argue with her and go get footage for her blog. 

Or at least, she would be at an impasse with Alya. If she wanted to continue arguing with the equivalent of a brick wall that was. 

“I gotta go. Need to check on Luka and Ma.” The lie was bitter in her mouth as she dashed towards the door.  

“But bijou!” 

“I’ll be careful!” 

She was already out the door before Alya’s spluttered protests could reach her ears. 

***

Her feet pounded against the pavement as she ran towards the Liberty. 

If Ladybug needed her, she needed to be somewhere she would be easy to find. 

At least her story- her lie about needing to check on Luka and her ma was believable. Of course, neither Luka nor her ma were supposed to be onboard right now. Luka was hanging out with his friends at Aimee’s place, and her ma was staging fight choreography at a community theatre in a completely different arrondissement. None of the girls knew that though. And the Liberty was docked close enough to the tower that, while not directly in harm’s way, was close enough that under other circumstances she would be worried. 

But Juleka wouldn’t lie to us!

Rose’s words echoing in her head almost brought her to a halt. 

She needed to keep going. 

But the words weighed on her. 

Rose had been wrong. She had lied to them. She had been lying to them for months now. 

It had never felt great to lie. But they were harmless, small little lies. Or at least… 

It had started with little lies. Little white lies. About texting the wrong time or texting the wrong person… 

But the lies… they had become bigger. 

And so much easier. 

And the more she lied- whether by omission or fabrication, the harder it was to tell where the line between a half-truth and a lie lay. Was it even really a line anymore? 

Had there ever been a line? 

And with how easy the lies, the half-truths, the misdirections…  how easy it had become to lie to her friends, her family… how easy it had all become… 

The fact that she had so easily brushed off all of her lies until now… until she had been confronted and questioned point blank… 

What kind of person did that make her? 

She needed to keep going. 

She didn’t have time for this. 

But how was she supposed to move forward now?  

She pumped her arms and legs even harder.  Her lungs were starting to burn as she sprinted along the sidewalk, dodging dawdling tourists and ambling people left and right. With every step she took, the same question pounded through her head. Echoing the sound of her feet against the pavement. 

What was she supposed to do now? 

Finally, the Liberty came into view. She had barely made it on board when she saw a flash of red drop from the sky, down into the clutter of the meeting place they had hidden amongst all her ma’s chaos. 

She darted over just as Ladybug peeked out from behind a crate. 

“Good, you’re here. Are you free to help?” 

“Always. So what are we looking at?” she asked as Ladybug pulled the bracelet from her yoyo. 

“Not sure yet, I wanted to see if I could find you on my way there.”

“Well, glad that worked out,” she chuckled as she slipped the bracelet on. “Yeah, I’m free. Roarr, stripes on!” 

***

She stared in disbelief as the ‘akuma’ was loaded into the back of a police car by an officer. 

“…came all the way here, and decided he wanted to pull a prank,” Officer Roger groaned as he watched the door to the police car slam shut. “The embassy will have to deal with him. Tourists,” he added under his breath. 

“Well,” Ladybug sighed as she massaged her temples, “at least no one was actually akumatized. I might need to do a press conference or something to remind people akumas aren’t something to joke about.” 

“I’ll talk to the Commissioner and Mayor about it” Roger sighed before turning back to face her and Ladybug. “Good to see you, Ladybug. Purple Tigress, always a pleasure.” 

“Take care,” she said with a nod before Officer Roger turned and headed back towards the cluster of police cars. “Talk about a waste of time,” she grumbled as she watched the cars drive off. 

“You’d think they’d learn. C’mon,” Ladybug said, nodding towards the rooflines. Wordlessly, she followed Ladybug up. Once they were balanced on the roof, Ladybug turned to her with a wry smile. “Well, I can’t say I’m sorry it was just a tourist. You’re still ok for patrol later tonight?” 

“Yeah.”

“Great. Thank you, Juleka, you’re really saving my butt right now. Hold onto it until the end of patrol,” Ladybug added before she could finish undoing the clasp on the Miraculous. 

She nodded. “I’ll just message you a good place to meet up once we’re done?” she asked as she fiddled with her Miraculous. Ladybug still took it back most of the time after patrols, but she had gotten to hang onto it overnight a couple times. And she would be lying if she said she didn’t mind relinquishing her hold on it. She was going to miss hanging out with Roarr and patrolling the city. 

“That sounds perfect.” She glanced up at Ladybug to find her smiling thoughtfully at her.  

***

She went halfway towards home as Tigress before she ducked into an abandoned back alley. Once she was sure the coast was clear, she dropped her transformation. 

“I was looking forward to a good fight…” Roarr complained as soon as she was out of the Miraculous. 

“I know,” she murmured, holding out her hand to the disgruntled kwami. “But it’s just as well. Ladybug doesn’t have much time left to work on her project, and I’m all out of emergency candy.” 

“I guess…” Roarr mumbled as she settled into her palm. Despite her obvious disappointment at the lack of a fight, the kwami seemed unable to stop herself from purring as she stroked the soft fur on her head. 

“I need to stop by the store on the way home and pick up some more eyeliner-”

“Your war paint,” Roarr corrected. 

“Sure, my ‘war paint,’ but I’ll get you some more emergency candy. And…” she said, a smirk drawing across her face as Roarr’s ears twitched at the shift in her tone, “I’ll get you some anchovies too.” She couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose at the thought of the smelly, canned fish that Roarr adored. “Would that make you feel better?”

“I suppose…” Roarr said, her purr slipping into her voice. 

“Come on then,” she said, gesturing to backpack. As soon as Roarr was safely hidden in her pack, she shrugged it back onto her shoulder and slipped out of the alley. 

Once she stepped into the store, she made her way to the cosmetics aisle. Listlessly, she began perusing the display racks. Normally she enjoyed shopping for makeup—especially when her favourite eyeliner was on sale—but the deal on her favourite brand of eyeliner didn’t muster the usual excitement it would have. 

Getting excited over a good price on eyeliner felt trivial compared to everything that was going on right now. 

“What’s wrong, Juleka?” 

She jumped at the sudden sound of Roarr’s voice in her ear. 

“What are you doing?” she hissed. “Get back in my bag before someone sees you!” She cast a glance around the aisle, but thankfully no one else was browsing the cosmetics. 

“It’s fine, your hair is so thick no one can see me when I’m hidden in it.” She let out a sigh of exasperation, but Roarr continued on, undeterred. “So what’s the matter? Usually you’re happy when you’re looking at all this stuff,” she felt Roarr’s tail flick against her ear, “but you aren’t today.” 

“Well,” she said slowly as she picked up a random lipstick off the shelf and made a show of looking at the packaging. Hopefully, if anyone came into this section of the store, it would look like she was just mumbling over the packing of the lipstick instead of talking to her hair. “Alya caught on to what I’ve been up to…” 

As she continued through the store, she filled Roarr in as quickly as she could, pausing in front of random displays under the guise of browsing to give herself more time to explain everything.  Or at least, everything she could. But even that was only half the truth. Roarr still didn’t know that she knew Marinette was Ladybug, only that she had been interfering with the plots to get Adrien and Marinette together. 

Even confiding about her dilemma was a mockery of it.  

“…and it’s just a huge mess now,” she groaned as she dropped another bag of Roarr’s favourite candies into her shopping basket.  

“So what are you going to do?” 

“I don’t want to keep lying-” 

“I didn’t ask what you didn’t want to do. I asked what you’re going to do?” 

“I don’t know. I mean- Bustier is always drilling it into use that lying is wrong, and they’re my friends…” 

“But…?” 

“But if I tell them, they’ll ask questions. Alya will demand answers. Answers I can’t give without betraying Marinette’s trust. And I would never do that.” 

Roarr let out a satisfied purr. “A good tigress protects her own, and you’re a great Tigress. This Marinette girl is lucky to have you.” 

She bit back a wry smile at the way Roarr distanced herself from Marinette. “But what should I do? What’s the right thing to do?” 

Roarr let out something that was a cross between a yowl and a sigh. “You’re asking someone who’s kept her existence a secret from the world for millennia. As for the right thing… you mortals have such rigid understandings of what those concepts mean. There’s right and wrong, and there’s right and wrong.” 

“So… you think I should lie?”

“A Tigress fights her own battles, whether with her claws or her head.” Roarr nuzzled against the back of her neck. “Trust your judgment. You may not realize it, but you know what you’re doing.”

***

As she began making her way back home, she tried to think of how she would do her makeup for the dance. She already had a pretty clear idea, but there were still a few details she needed to decide on. Same with her hair. And her nails. 

Really, she tried to think about anything except what had gone down during the meeting. But as hard as she tried, her mind kept finding its way back. Relieving every moment of it. 

And dwelling on all of it. 

‘I told you it was dumb.’

Except, it wasn’t… 

‘We told her it was just little miscommunications and accidents.’

There had been nothing accidental about any of it… 

‘But I know it’s been more than that!’

And the one time Alya was right… 

She could tell them. She could come clean and fess up. Tell them- not everything. But she could tell them she had been sabotaging the schemes. 

Except she couldn’t. 

Lying was wrong. 

But right now, telling the truth didn’t feel right either. 

And while Roarr’s advice- well, it felt like a stretch to call it advice… but while Roarr’s words had comforted her, they hadn’t really given her an answer.

If anything, Roarr had only given her more food for thought. And it was tough things to chew on.   

By the time she was trudging across the gangplank, she was still no closer to an answer. If anything, it felt like she had spiralled further away from one. 

“Hey, Jules,” she looked up from her feet, where her gaze had drifted at some point during the walk home. Luka was sitting on the edge of the stage, his guitar in hand. 

“You’re back already?”

“Yeah, Nadine had an audition tonight and Bri had a shift, so we packed it in early. Captain called by the way, she’s going to be later than she thought and the crew is all grabbing a bite so it’s just you and me for dinner. We’re doing takeout, anything you feel like?” 

“I’m good with whatever. Just no-”

“Olives. I know,” he chuckled as he idly strummed his guitar. But then he frowned. He strummed the same notes again before he looked up from his guitar to meet her gaze. “Is everything ok? You sound a little flat.” 

She hesitated. Luka  was always the first person she turned to for advice. But he was… well, he was honest. And she knew honesty and lies were a bit of a sore subject for him, given their ma’s refusal to tell him the truth about his father.  

“C’mon Jules, you know you can talk about anything with me,” he said as he set his guitar aside and patted the empty stage next to him. 

She sighed as she sat down next to him. “What are your thoughts about… about lies? And lying?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Is the truth always better than a lie?” 

He turned to her with puzzlement and concern written all over his face. “What’s this all about, Jules?” 

“Say you weren’t being… entirely honest about something to a friend.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you were doing it because at the time, it seemed like the right thing to do, even though you didn’t like it. And now some people think you’re telling the truth and others think you’re lying and you suddenly aren’t sure-” 

“Jules,” Luka’s voice was quiet and gentle, but firm. “Take a breath.” She did as he told her, and once he seemed satisfied that she was at least a little calmer, he continued. “Now, why don’t you tell me what this is all about?” 

She sighed. If there was one person she could be straight with about her recent involvement in the Adrien schemes, it was Luka. “You know how the girls and I used to plot all those schemes to get Adrien and Marinette together?’ 

“Yeah I- used to? I thought those were still happening. Or did they stop when I asked-”

“They are. Like Alya would give up.” Luka snorted at that. “But… but I’ve maybe been kind of completely sabotaging them for months now.” She spat the words out as quickly as she could, and she suddenly felt so much lighter. 

“Really? You don’t say…” The sarcasm was practically dripping from his voice. “What?” he added when she snapped her head to stare incredulously at him. “All those times you found excuses for me to spend time with Marinette? You know Couaffines can only be so subtle.” He had a point: she was still her mother’s daughter after all. And maybe subtlety had gone by the wayside when she had been dealing with him… but subtlety only went so far when dealing with her brother’s particular brand of idiot…    

“And you’ve been telling me to ask her out for months. Remember?” She rolled her eyes, but allowed herself a wry smile at the memory of the multitude of headaches he had caused her. “So I take it you’re asking me this because the girls found out?”

“Alya suspects. The rest of the girls think she’s being paranoid.”

“And you don’t know if it’s better to come clean?” She nodded glumly. He sighed as he leaned back on his hands. “Honestly, I don’t know, Jules. It sucks being lied to, and they’ll probably find out eventually.”

“But if I have a reason not to tell them?” 

Really, it was a matter of reasons. 

“It would have to be a pretty good reason. At least, I think so. And I guess that’s where it gets more complicated. Is it better to hide the truth because it hurts? Or will it hurt more when they find out you’ve been lying to them? Will the lies even protect them from the hurt?”

Her gaze dropped down to her lap. 

They would be hurt. 

If she told the truth now, they would be hurt. But they would also be hurt if she told them the truth later.  

If she didn’t tell them, if she kept lying and they found out, they would be hurt. 

But if she told them the truth, Marinette would also be hurt. 

She would be going back on a promise. 

And if she kept lying and they all found out she had been meddling, would Marinette be hurt then too? 

No matter what she did, someone could end up getting hurt. 

She saw Luka shift out of the corner of her eye. She turned in time to see him shift to gaze down at his bracelets. She watched as he flicked listlessly at them. To anyone else, it would look like he was just fiddling with his jewelry. But the way he was flicking at it… it was obvious he was thinking about a particular bracelet.  

“But I think… well, there are some lies that need to be told. I made you promise not to tell anyone about how I felt about Marinette-”  

“Which I didn’t.” 

“But I’m guessing you had to tell lies to keep it a secret?”  

She had certainly been… creative with the truth. “It wasn’t my secret to tell.”   

He turned to her with heavy eyes and a grateful smile. “And I think that makes things more complicated too. Keeping secrets but also being honest.” He had no idea. “Honestly, Jules, I don’t think I have an answer for you. I don’t think it’s an easy black and white problem.”

“I figured as much.” With another wry smile, she stood up. “I’m going to go chill for a bit, and then I have to go out again. Are you ok if we have a late dinner?” 

“Works for me. Tom and Sabine sent Aimee home with a ton of stuff and Nadine brought falafel and fatayers-”

“Did you bring me any?” 

“You really think there was any left by the time everyone had their fill?”

“Dingo ate most of it, didn’t he?” 

“Of course he did.”

“You owe me then.”

“Wouldn’t Dingo-”

“Well, better you had all of that today.” If she was going to bring a dour mood to the boat, it was also up to her to break it. “Wouldn’t want you to have garlic breath for Marinette, now would we?” 

“Jules!” 

She smirked as she walked away; she didn’t need to look to know his ears were probably glowing bright red. 

“Coast is clear,” she murmured once she was in her room. Roarr zipped out of her bag to hover over her shoulder with wide, pleading eyes as she unpacked her shopping bag. With the emergency candy stashed in her backpack and purses, and her new makeup carefully arranged on her dressing table, she rolled her eyes affectionately and pulled out the can of anchovies with only a little disgust.  

“And you said I could watch videos on your phone while you read…” Roarr wheedled, giving her her best puppy—kitty?—eyes as she clutched the unopened can to her. She liked to use her claws to open them. Or, as Roarr called it, delivering the killing strike. 

She pulled her phone out of the depths of her bag; just as she was passing it to Roarr, her stomach plummeted to the bottom of the Seine. 

Two missed texts from Alix. 

Five from Mylène. 

Thirteen from Rose. 

Between the false alarm, her shopping expedition, and her rather preoccupied walk home, she hadn’t thought to check her phone…  

Rose 🌹💗: I wanted to say sorry

Rose 🌹💗: I feel really bad about not telling you 

Rose 🌹💗: I didn’t think Alya would be so intense

Rose 🌹💗: I thought it would be better to just go along

Rose 🌹💗: that she would realize sooner or later she didn’t need to worry  

Rose had sent those messages ages ago. 

And she hadn’t responded. 

Quickly, she began typing. She just hoped Rose didn’t think she was mad. 

Queen of Darkness 🦇: I'm so sorry! I got home but the akuma was a false alarm so I went out to get more eyeliner for tomorrow and I didn’t check my phone! I promise I wasn’t ignoring you  

It wasn’t the full or exact truth. But she had picked up eyeliner. And hadn’t been ignoring Rose—or the rest of the girls—on purpose.   

But it still felt like a lie. 

Dots appeared on the screen immediately. 

Rose 🌹💗: It’s ok!!!!!

Rose 🌹💗: I wanted to say sorry

Rose 🌹💗: actually

Rose 🌹💗: can I call you????

Rose 🌹💗: I want to say it properly 

She pressed the dial button, and Rose picked up before the first ring could even finish. 

“Angel, I’m-”  

“I’m so sorry, bijou!” The anguish in Rose’s voice was palpable. “I should have never let things go so far! I should have told you right away! Or at least sooner! Before it ever came to this! But I thought it would be better to just try and go with it. That maybe she would give up? Or see reason- I don’t know but the point is-”

“Rose. Rose. Slow down. Take a nice deep breath for me,” she waited while she listened to Rose inhale deeply and then exhale. “Can you start at the beginning? Because honestly, I don’t really know exactly what it is you’re apologizing for.” 

Rose sniffled. “Yeah, I can do that. I just, please don’t be mad at me,” Rose’s words tumbled out in an almost incomprehensible stream. 

“Take another breath.” She waited while she again listened to Rose’s breathing. Usually, it was Rose telling her to take a deep breath. “Ok?” 

“Yeah.” Over the line, she heard Rose take in a shaky breath, like she was trying to work herself up to say whatever it was she was apologizing for. “Ok, so you remember when we went shopping? And Luka bumped into the guys while he was out buying guitar strings? And he joined us all for lunch, and asked Marinette to the dance and sat beside her during lunch?”

How could she forget?  

“Well, Alya thought that you had made Luka come. That you had ruined her plan on purpose.”

Which she had. 

“And- well, she told us that she thought it was weird how the schemes with Adrien seemed to be going worse and worse the last few months. And she thought… well, she made this chart…”

Of course she had. 

“It started with that time you texted Marinette the wrong time for the movie. And, well, she was just so sure that you were trying to ruin things with Adrien. We all tried to tell her how ridiculous it was! You would never do anything to ruin Marinette’s love life.”

Technically true. Just not in the way Rose thought… 

“But you know how Alya can be sometimes…”

Try always. 

“And she was so sure that you were sabotaging things so she set up secret meetings without you to plan other schemes that you wouldn’t know about.”

So was that what the unsent message had been about?

“And she said that if the schemes we planned at the meetings you were there for went wrong, that would be proof that you were meddling.” 

“But the plans always go wrong.”

Sometimes, they just needed a helping hand. 

“That’s what we all told her. But she was so insistent. She wouldn’t listen to reason! And we- well, we went along with it. The secret meetings, I mean. The day I said I couldn’t go to lunch…” 

“There was another meeting after the one I went to.” It wasn’t even a question at this point. 

“I didn’t like it. None of us did. But… I guess we thought that maybe we could get her to listen if we humoured her for a bit? Help her realize how silly she was being about the whole thing. I think we all hoped she would realize herself.  Beforeshe could make any accusations like she did. That’s what we wanted to avoid. None of us liked it. Leaving you out that way. Lying and going behind your back. I wanted to tell you. We all did. But- we…” On the other end of the line, Rose descended into a fresh wave of tears and sniffles. 

“Shhh, it’s ok,” she murmured gently. It took a while, but after several minutes of offering quiet, and what she hoped were soothing and comforting, words of encouragement, Rose was able to talk through her tears again. 

“I didn’t like lying to you. But I thought it was the right thing to do. Please don’t be mad at me- you have every right to be- but at least let me make it up to you. Please?”

Her heart twisted at Rose’s words. At the tears in her voice. 

How could she be mad at Rose? Especially when she had been lying for far longer. 

She hesitated. 

She could tell Rose. She could tell her that Alya was right, and that she had been sabotaging the plans the whole time. 

But not without going back on her promise…  

“I know,” she said quietly. “And I’m not angry; I understand why you didn’t tell me.” The words tingled on the tip of her tongue. But… she couldn’t. “Your heart was in the right place. It always is.” Rose sniffled at her words. “I love you. Ok?”

She just hoped she was making the right choice. 

“I love you too, bijou.” 

***

She flew across the rooftops; the speed with which she was running and leaping, it felt like her feet didn’t even touch the ground. 

It was a sharp contrast to the heavy thoughts warring inside her head. 

She should have known going into all of this that it would only be a matter of time before Alya got suspicious. If not of her specifically then at least of all the ways the schemes went wrong that didn’t have to do with Marinette getting flustered or Adrien’s scheduling. She should have suspected this would be a bridge she would need to cross sooner or later. 

But she hadn’t realized later would come so soon. 

And now that she was here… 

She had never enjoyed lying to the girls. But it had been so much easier when they had no idea what was really going on. It had been easy enough to brush off the feeling of the lies in her mouth and the pangs of guilt that echoed in her chest.  

And she had never lied directly. 

Or at least, not often. 

She had just… misdirected and misrepresented with her words. 

She came to a halt at the end of a block of row houses, catching herself against a chimney. 

Wasn’t that the same thing as lying, really? 

If she told the girls the truth—well, part of it—now, would they understand? Would they forgive her? 

Would they believe her if she said she had seen the way Marinette was reluctant to participate in the plans she knew about? That she had noticed how uncomfortable Marinette was around Adrien? Or would they chalk that up to Marinette’s nerves?

Rose, Mylène, and Alix might- they probably would… but she couldn’t see Alya believing her. And even then… would Alya just take that as an admission of guilt anyway? For meddling? Would her friends be hurt? 

Was there even a right answer? 

Her talks with Roarr, Luka, and Rose had just given her more to chew on. 

Roarr had said she knew what she was doing. 

But obviously she didn’t. 

And the kwami’s stance on what the right thing was… was less than helpful. She wasn’t even entirely sure she understood what Roarr had meant. 

Luka had said there were some lies that needed to be told. He had obviously been thinking about his duties as Viperion. 

She had never questioned lying to keep Ladybug’s secrets… 

But Marinette’s secrets were just as important as Ladybug’s. 

And how could she live with herself if she only protected some of those secrets? 

And Rose… 

She wasn’t mad at Rose. How could she be? All Rose had been trying to do was protect her feelings. 

And Alix and Mylène… they had both confessed the truth- the full truth of what had been going on behind her back. They had confessed. They had apologized. And they had checked in on her too, to make sure she was ok after the way the meeting had ended. 

She still wished Rose- that all of them had just told her from the start. 

But that just made her a hypocrite. Her hands weren’t exactly clean… 

She had told Rose her heart had been in the right place. And it had been. 

She liked to think hers was, too. But she had also become so accustomed to lying. To secrets. And everything Rose did was paved with good intentions. 

 Would the rest of the girls be as understanding? Would they see things the same way? 

And worst of all… 

Was she only feeling this way now… questioning all of this now because Alya had called her out? 

Would she have crossed—or, more accurately, gotten stuck on—this bridge eventually? 

Or would she have just continued to lie? 

Guilt and indecision weighed down her otherwise light footsteps as she bounded across the rooftops towards her meeting place with Ladybug. Usually patrol was a good way to blow off steam, but she felt just as tense as she had when she left for patrol. Maybe even more so, knowing she wouldn’t have Roarr curled up under the covers with her tonight.  

Even if the kwami’s advice hadn’t been helpful, the cuddles always made her feel better. 

By the time she had made it to the top of the south bell tower of Notre Dame, Ladybug was waiting for her.

Ladybug was sitting on the edge of the roof. One of her legs dangling over the edge, the other she was hugging to herself, resting her chin on it as she stared out absently over the city. The sun was still in the sky, but it was sinking towards the horizon. 

“Ladybug?”

Ladybug turned, but didn’t stand. “Yeah?”

“You ok?”

“Oh, yeah. I just… I have a lot on my mind.  I’ve had a lot on my mind for a long time. But especially after yesterday…” Ladybug trailed off, her face flushed with the same shade of embarrassment as last night, when she had collected the Miraculous and apologized profusely for having such a heated argument with Chat in front of her.  “You look like you have a lot on your mind too.” 

“Yeah,” she mumbled, kicking a stray pebble, “you could say that.” 

Ladybug offered her a half smile and patted the empty roof beside her. “Maybe we can have a lot on our minds together for a bit? I…” Ladybug smiled shyly, “I wouldn’t mind having a break with a friend.” 

“Yeah, that would be nice.”

They sat in silence for some time. Ladybug had gone back to staring pensively out over the city, her hands uncharacteristically still in her lap. An errant breeze ruffled their hair as she turned her own attention out to the city below her. 

It was almost comical, really. 

That after dealing with countless schemes, ad campaigns, and even akumas, this was what she was getting hung up on. Lying and secrets. 

How could she be a hero if she didn’t even know what the right thing to do was? 

She sighed.  They never showed this in the movies, and none of the interviews with the American heroes that Alya always watched ever talked about this. There wasn’t a guidebook on how to deal with this. 

But… if there was one person who would understand lying and secrets better than anyone she knew… 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course!” Ladybug said, angling to turn to her. “I’m always here if you need to talk.”

She smiled gratefully at Ladybug, before taking a deep breath. “How do you deal with it?” she asked quietly. “The lying, I mean?” 

“…the lying?” 

“You know, the lies. Akuma attacks, well, they happen without warning and I figure you’ve got to have a life outside the mask so I assumed you must have to make up excuses to slip away.” It wasn’t quite the kind of lying she was grappling with. Though, to be frank, she still wasn’t all that great at coming up with excuses to slip away in case Tigress was needed, too. But it felt close enough. 

Beside her, Ladybug shifted, then sighed. It was a heavy sigh. A sound that expressed the weight of magical jewelry and everything it entailed. “I hate it.” Ladybug admitted quietly. 

Ladybug had her arms wrapped around her knees, hugging them close to her chest. Her eyes were fixed on the horizon, but her gaze was far away. Like she was trying to see something just out of sight. 

She let her own gaze drift back to the sky in front of them as she waited for her friend to gather her words. 

“I guess… I guess it helps that I know I have to. To keep them safe. Telling people, it would put them at risk. And it’s my job- I want to protect them. So I lie. I lie to my friends. To my family. To Lu- lots of people.”

She nodded solemnly, her gaze fixed out on the city below. Somehow, they had come to the silent agreement that this conversation was easier to have without looking the other in the eye. 

It… it was different. Maybe. But it also wasn’t. 

Marinette lied to the people she loved to protect them. 

She lied to the people she loved to protect Marinette’s happiness. 

Sure, she wasn’t exactly out there saving lives with her lies. But wasn’t misery just as much a threat? Especially with Shadowmoth?

“How do you… how do you know when it’s the right time to lie?”

“It’s always felt like lying was the only option. Sometimes it’s just a little lie. Y’know, ‘oh I have to go to the washroom’ or something. But sometimes I need to make the lies bigger. And when I do, well, I try to only do it when I need to. When I need to do or say something, even if it’s hard, to protect someone.”

“I see.” 

“It never goes away though.”

“What?” 

“The guilt. Knowing I’m lying to people I care about and that I’ll keep lying. Even though I know it’s the right thing, I still hate it. But in some ways… I think the guilt is good.”

“How so?” The guilt that had been eating away at her all afternoon and evening… how could such a horrible feeling be good? 

“If we feel guilty about lying, that means we’re still good people, even if we can’t be honest. Or at least,” Ladybug sighed, “that’s what I tell myself to try and stay sane.” 

She frowned. “I… I never really thought of it that way.”

“I don’t know if it’s true, but it helps to tell myself that, at least.” 

“Whoever you are, Ladybug, you’re a good person.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a small smile creep across Ladybug’s face. “So are you, Tigress.”

They settled back into silence, though it was a somewhat lighter silence this time. The only measure of time was the sun continuing its slow descent towards the horizon. 

“I’m tired of lying. I want to tell… people the truth. But I guess I’m so used to keeping secrets- and it’s such a big secret and it wouldn’t just change things for me-“ Ladybug cut herself off abruptly. Tigress turned to look at her friend, who flashed her an embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry. You asked me- you asked for advice and here I am blathering about my own problems. But I wanted to ask… you asked about the lying… is it too much? It know how hard it all is, and if this is getting to be too much-“

“No, no. It’s fine. I- I like being Tigress. And I don’t mind you talking about your stuff. Actually,” she said slowly, “it helped. A lot. And for what it’s worth, I think if there’s someone you trust enough with your secret, I’m betting they’d be happy to help you share the burden.”

“Maybe…” Ladybug said thoughtfully. 

“I guess it’s a good thing I had patrol tonight.” 

“Oh?” 

She smiled wryly. “Misery loves company, especially when it’s over the same problem.” A look flashed across Ladybug’s face that made her pause. “Or… did you have something else on your mind? You know I’m here to talk too, if you need it.” The fury in Ladybug’s eyes from last night flashed in her mind. “Yesterday…yesterday was a lot. Are you doing ok?” 

Ladybug’s face softened into a smile. “I know. And I am. Doing ok, that is.” She must not have looked particularly convinced because Ladybug chuckled. Enough so that the corners of her eyes crinkled, warping the spots of her mask. “Really, I’m fine. I promise,” she said before turning back to look over the city. “Last night was hard. Lying is hard. But sometimes…sometimes… well, I think it’s good. To do the hard things, that is. Even when you really don’t want to.” 

That did not sound… reassuring. 

Maybe it was good to do hard things sometimes, but Chat had made things harder than necessary yesterday. He had been for a long time. 

There was still a hint of a smile onLadybug’s face, but it was caught somewhere between wistful and wry. And the look in her eyes… it wasn’t unlike the look Marinette got when she was studying a piece of clothing, trying to figure out its construction and such. Then the glint in her eyes was gone. 

She shifted beside Ladybug, opening her mouth to say something. But before she could figure out the words, Ladybug broke the silence. 

“I promise, I know what I’m doing. Trust me.” 

“I do.” 

She did. She just hoped Ladybug wasn’t going to make things harder for herself than they already were. 

Speaking of which…

“I’m sorry for keeping you so long. I know you’re working to a deadline.”

“Don’t worry about it. I was probably due for a break anyways and…” Ladybug smiled softly, “it was nice. Talking about all of this. I’ve never really had anyone who got it.” 

Ladybug- Marinette should have had someone who got it. She deserved someone who got it. She should have had someone from the start. 

And she… she hadn’t realized it until now. But she hadn’t really had someone who got it either. Not all of it. Luka… there were some things she couldn’t tell hm. Some things he couldn’t get. But even if she couldn’t talk to Luka about everything, he was always there. And just knowing he was there made all the difference. But… 

She hadn’t truly realized, hadn’t truly appreciated how much it meant to have someone who got it. And it made her heart ache that Marinette had been without someone for so long. 

“I may not get all of it, but I’m here. Whenever you need me.” 

***

“Get all your errands done?” 

“Yep. Get all your love songs written?”

“Nope,” he half sighed. She could hear the eye roll in his voice. “Food should be here soon. I ordered sushi.” 

“Did you get-” 

“Yes, I got spicy tuna. And spicy salmon.” 

“Good. I’m going down below for a bit. I need to figure out how I’m doing my nails for tomorrow- yes, you can borrow my good black nail polish.” 

“Thanks. I’ll let you know when the food’s here.” 

Once she was back in her room, she spread her nail polish bottles out across her dressing table. She probably wouldn’t do a manicure, given she had the lace gloves, but her shoes were open toed so it would be nice to have her toenails painted. 

Plus, she could really use a nice, relaxing pedicure. 

Honestly, she could do with a whole spa day. But that would have to wait. For now, an at home pedicure would have to do.  

She had just gotten her choices narrowed down, and was trying to decide which of the two deep plum shades would better match the lipstick she was planning on wearing when Luka’s voice floated down from above deck. 

“Jules.” She frowned at the sound of his voice. It was… it wasn’t… usually, when he called her to let her know their food was there or he needed her help with something- “Alya’s here to see you.” 

She almost dropped the bottles of nail polish. 

She should have seen this coming, what with the way they—she—had left things at the meeting earlier. Really, when she thought about it, it was suspicious that Alya hadn’t shown up earlier. Like right after the akuma was declared a hoax. Although… maybe there had been another meeting, like the ones Rose had told her had been going on… 

But Rose hadn’t said anything about another meeting taking place after the one she had run out of. And based on the timestamps, Mylène, Alix, and Rose had all started texting her almost right after she had bolted out. 

Grimacing, she set down the bottles of nail polish. Alya was probably the last person she wanted to talk to right now. Except maybe Adrien.  It was probably too late to pretend she was in the shower or something… 

But even if they didn’t have… whatever this talk was going to be now, she would only be delaying the inevitable. 

Sighing, she got up. 

It seemed the time had come for her to cross this bridge. 

She just hoped it wouldn’t end up burnt… 

Luka was standing with his guitar slung over his back and his hands shoved into his pockets. Most people found Luka hard to read; people said he kept his cards close to his chest. Maybe it was a Couffaine thing, or maybe it was just a sibling thing, but she had never had trouble reading her brother. And she did not like the look on his face. 

What most people would mistake for his resting face, she recognized as guarded. And there was something in his eyes- annoyance. And a sudden fatigue. 

Alya was standing across from him. She looked like she was ready for battle, with the tense way she was holding herself. Like she was ready to spring into action at a second’s notice. To say nothing of the hard and determined look on her face. The same look she had whenever she…

What had she said to Luka?

They both turned to look at her as the top step squeaked under her foot. 

Alya’s eyes narrowed behind her glasses, the lenses flashing in the dying light. 

The tension in the air was palpable. 

Luka looked at her with a silent question in his eyes. Luka was perceptive—about most things—and the vibes Alya was putting out right now? Well, Kim would have picked up on them… 

A few months ago, she would have asked him to stay. She would have needed him to. Part of her still wanted him to. But she also wanted- needed to do… whatever this was going to be, on her own. 

She squared her shoulders, and nodded. He gave her one last questioning and concerned look, which she returned with another nod. He nodded and left with a promise that he was close by if she needed him in his eyes.  

As she watched Luka warily head down the stairs below deck, she steeled herself for the oncoming storm.

“I would have come earlier,” Alya said. It was a good thing she hadn’t come earlier, especially as she had come with no warning. “But I got held up.”

Alya didn’t offer anything more, which left her with the distinct feeling she would not like whatever it was that had held Alya up. 

If she had to guess… her money was on a new set of schemes. 

Part of her wanted to ask, but there was no way Alya would tell her if her suspicions were correct. Not after this afternoon. Especially not, given the way Alya was watching her, with her arms folded across her chest and her eyes boring into her.  

“Just as well,” she said carefully, “I was out earlier. I had errands to run.” 

“Oh?” It was impressive how Alya could make it sound like both a question and accusation. 

“I needed to pick up some more eyeliner for tomorrow.” 

Alya’s eyes narrowed even more, and her mouth twisted into a tight line. Part of her couldn’t help but wonder if Alya was about to demand to see her literal receipt. “Speaking of tomorrow, I don’t know what you’ve been- what you are playing at, but it needs to stop.” 

“I’m not playing at anything.” That, at least, was the honest truth. 

When it came to Luka and Marinette’s happiness, there was no playing.

Alya raised her brows. “The movie incident?” 

“I texted her the wrong time for the movie we were going to go see.” 

Technically true. 

“The time we tried to get her to the park to see Adrien and she was out without her phone? You were slow to reply. And your messages never agreed to the plan! I went back and checked.” 

“I was on the way home from the laundromat, I had my hands full! And Marinette forgets her phone at home all the time!” 

“And the photoshoot?” 

“Marinette made an outfit specifically for me to model, and I had the makeup masterclass starting the next weekend-” 

“You were supposed to bail because of the class!” She and Alya both froze at the outburst; Alya’s eyes went wide, like she hadn’t been expecting to start shouting. She folded her arms across her chest as she watched Alya take a breath like Bustier always told them to. Though her exhale was still more of a huff than anything. Alya’s gaze refocused on her. “Luka asked her to the dance.”

“He did,” she agreed carefully. 

“Adrien was supposed to ask her when we all met for lunch.” 

“I didn’t know that.” That was the honest truth. Alya hadn’t told her about that particular scheme. Not that that would have changed anything… 

“You should have known,” Alya snapped, a note of desperation making its way into her voice. “And Luka looked at you before he asked her.”

“So?” 

“You put him up to it. You told him to ask her, even though you know Adrien and Marinette are meant to be.” Alya stepped towards her, a hiss slipping into her voice as she pointed an accusatory finger at her. Pain flared in her hands as her nails bit into her palms from how tightly her hands were balled into fists. But she refused to shrink. She refused to back down or balk. “You’ve been ruining the plans to get Adrien and Marinette together. Admit it.” 

Alya was staring her down. Hard. 

Months ago, she would have wilted under such a look. She never even would have made it far enough into a conflict to reach this precipice. 

But here she was. 

And she was not happy. 

Alya had shown up, unannounced. She had said only the Universe knew what to Luka. Although she had her suspicions. 

And now, Alya was flinging accusations. 

Yes, those accusations were true. 

Yes, she had been meddling and sabotaging at every turn. 

But she had done her best to listen to Marinette and Luka. 

She had respected what they wanted. 

She had never picked a fight over any of this. 

And now? 

She was not happy. 

Familiar heat was bubbling up in her stomach and coursing through her veins. Tension was seeping into every inch of her body. She pressed her lips together as tightly as she could, biting down on their insides to keep herself from saying something she would regret. 

Alya looked just as tense: her chest was heaving and all her weight was on her toes. Like she was ready for anything. And she was staring hard at her. 

It would be so easy to give into the white hot anger running through her right now. The anger at being confronted in her own home. 

At having accusations, as true as they were, flung in her face. 

At having to even be in this position in the first place… 

But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. 

She had decided a long time ago that she never wanted to be Shadowmoth’s puppet ever again. And now that she had been given responsibilities, had protected Paris, had worked alongside Ladybug? 

Well, that only strengthened her resolve. 

She refused to be used like that to hurt her friends, her family, her home,  ever again.

And part of those responsibilities- part of protecting everything she held dear, was not just fighting akumas. 

It was preventing them too. 

She took a breath to steady herself. “We both need to take a breath,” she said as calmly but as firmly as she could. “Neither of us wants to akumatized.”   

Alya stumbled at her words, like she had been broken from some sort of trance. She shook her head and then blinked at her, like she was startled by the notion that either of them could be at risk of akumatization. 

Without waiting for agreement—or protests—she let her eyes slip shut and began to inhale deeply. A moment later, she heard Alya join in with her. 

She let herself focus on the steady rhythm of her breathing, and the slowing of her racing heart. Once she felt calm enough, she opened her eyes again. 

Alya was staring at her once more.Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, and there were still hints of a glare in her eyes. But at least it seemed her anger had melted back into suspicion. “Thanks,” Alya said quietly. “I needed that.” 

“Me, too.” 

“But you never admitted to it. To any of it.” 

Right… 

The truth was a tricky thing. And lies were just as difficult. 

If she told Alya the truth about her interference, maybe it would help Alya step back and look at things for what they truly were. Maybe it would help Alya let go of her fixation on making Adrien and Marinette happen. 

But she had made a promise. 

And if she told Alya the truth, she would have questions. Questions she wouldn’t be able to answer. Not without breaking her promise and betraying Marinette’s trust. And she would go to her grave before she did that to Marinette. 

Which meant that the truth would just lead to more lies anyways. 

‘I think there are some lies that need to be told.’

‘I thought it was the right thing to do.’

‘I guess it helps that I know I have to. To keep them safe.’ 

Under the guise of taking another calming breath, she steeled herself. 

And lied as honestly as she could. 

“I didn’t tell him to ask her out the day we went shopping. I haven’t done anything to hurt Marinette’s happiness.” 

Alya’s frown deepened as she left out a huff. Behind her glasses, her eyes were once again narrowed with suspicion. For her part, she did her best to look cool and collected. She forced herself to stand tall, but she couldn’t keep herself from fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. 

“I don’t believe you-” 

“-and if you see the dry-cleaners,  then you’ve gone too far.” Luka’s voice and footsteps floated up from the stairs, and suddenly he was standing beside her—but a little ways off to give some semblance of privacy—his phone pressed to his ear. “Sorry,” he mumbled, covering his phone, “delivery guy got lost.” Alya’s face turned to disbelief before settling back into a suspicious glare pointed her way. He shot her a look with a silent question, to which she nodded. “Yeah, Darrel? Yeah, I’m still here. So if you take the next right, you should be on the North bank. We’re the houseboat with the huge stage. I’m on deck, just look for blue hair.” Luka started waving; she and Alya both looked in the direction he was looking. A tall, lanky guy with a phone pressed to his ear glanced at them and his face brightened. 

They watched as the guy—Darrel—bounded down the steps and approached the gangplank. 

“I have no idea how I missed it the first time,” he said as he ambled across the deck, completely oblivious to what he had just walked in on. How he couldn’t feel the tension in the air, thick as pea soup, was beyond her. “Not many houseboats have stages. Anyways, sorry for the delay. That looks like a wicked set up, I bet you could put on a pretty awesome concert…” 

Alya eyed her suspiciously as Luka began to talk shop with Darrel. 

Would Alya want to keep going in circles with her after Darrel was gone? 

Would she- who was she kidding? Alya was not one to give up-

“I should get going. Let you have your dinner.” 

What?

She snapped her gaze away from Darrel and Luka to look back at her friend. Alya was still watching her through narrowed eyes. But the heat that had been behind Alya’s eyes was gone. Replaced by a coolness.   

What…

“Uh- yeah. Sounds good…” 

“I’m sure tomorrow will be the night. The night Marinette’s dreamed about? The night she finally gets together with Adrien. Right?” Ok, yeah. Alya was definitely not giving up. 

As admirable as her tenacity was… it was just as much headache inducing. 

“Yeah,” she said slowly. 

With one last look, Alya turned on her heel.  

She watched as Alya made her way across the gangplank. Just one misplaced step… that’s all it would take… 

If she were a better person, she wouldn’t be having these thoughts. 

If she were a worse person, she probably would have already given into the temptation and pushed her into the river. 

But she wouldn’t. No matter how tempting it was… Sure, out of the girl squad, Alya was the one she was the least close with. And the past couple of weeks—months for her—had certainly put a strain on their relationship it seemed.

But Alya was still her friend. 

And it was the Seine. 

She watched as Alya, now across safe and sound, headed towards the stairs that led to the street. As if feeling her eyes on her, Alya stopped and turned around to meet her gaze. It was hard to tell with the last of the evening sun reflecting off the lenses of her glasses, but based on the way Alya’s mouth was screwed into a tight line… She felt pretty safe on betting that her response to Alya’s parting words had done nothing to quell her suspicions. 

Screwing her courage to the sticking place, she returned Alya’s gaze measure for measure. They stared at each other, caught in a silent showdown. And it seemed neither of them wanted to swerve first. 

Would it be better to just give Alya the win? 

Let her think she had called chicken first? Try and get her to lower her guard? 

Or would it be better to hold firm? 

Stand strong and not shrink back into the shadows? 

Before she could debate herself into any more circles—she had had more than enough of that for one day—the sound of Darel's voice broke the air. 

“Thanks for the tip, man,” Darrel said. She turned just in time to see him pass Luka a large paper bag filled with their dinner as he shoved the cash into a bag clipped to his belt. “Have a good one,” he said as he turned and headed towards the gangplank. Still seemingly blithely ignorant of the showdown he had interrupted.  

Her gaze followed his movement, and then drifted past to the stairs to the street. But there was no sign of Alya. 

“Watch your step,” she half-mumbled, half-called after him absently as her brows furrowed. She jumped at the feeling of a hand on her shoulder. When she turned, Luka was giving her the very definition of a ‘concerned older brother look. 

“Everything ok?” 

She looked back to the empty stairs, and then nodded with a sigh. “Yeah. Let’s eat.” 

As she and Luka headed towards the stairs down below deck, she looked back one last time. 

[lastintheserverbox]

Got it man, Just making sure, love ya dude.

Anyway- Uhm.. It's.. it's more of a setting up thing. I'm just telling it in the order Jade told me... In her own words, she "Technically Could" code her better... Uh so... What happened next, it sounded like it was a day or so later..? I could be wrong- Mark felt something in the servers, something dangerous, and he told Jade accordingly so that it could be dealt with... Jade's own words, again, She thought he was just being paranoid and she didn't believe him, so she ignored the warning he gave her... And uh... It... It ended up being Minette's Kinito.. He was held at bay outside when he tried to get in, but when Jade told Minette to stay inside, she... She didn't. It might of been a trust issue from the argument before, it could have not been, I don't know- Either way, she went out... And Jade uhm... From... what it sounded like, fought to get her back inside and... Broke.... her....

.... The.. The Kinito that was out there took something- Some code or.. Or whatever, and- and left.. Jade... tried to repair her from what was left but... couldn't. ... And because the one that tried to delete everything deleted all... all the other Kinitos, it.... he ended up deleting..-

[After all that, Lobby couldn't bring themself to say it.] ... I'm so, so sorry, Sam...

[...It reminded them of...] ...... [They brought up a claw to their face- They can't recall when they started crying again.] I...I-I.. [It reminded them... of when they were told of their own loss.]

I'm so... so sorry, man...

-🦞

[Sam is uncharacteristically quiet. He tilts his head side to side, blinks, then just. gets up.]

"Sam...? Are you alright?"

"...Yeah. I always am."

[...Then he leaves. Jade seemed to be avoiding something like this. He barely even reacted, just instantly shut down. It's hard to tell if he even believes Mark or Lobby's words.]

"...He uh..."

[Mark shudders a sigh]

"Sam doesn't take bad news very well. Probably worse than Jade or I. He'll...just shut down and pretend nothing happened until he can find something else to think about.

He...might even deny you said that or that it's even true. Try not to take it personally. Jade...Rarely ever tells him anything ever. She doesn't want him hurt but--- Well, doesn't that just make it worse? I think he'd take things better if Jade didn't treat him like...like a dumb dog."

[wh0refornikolailantsov]

Prompt: "You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

For Nina x Reader please!!

Couldn't Love Anybody Else - Nina Zenik

Content Warnings: Insecurity And Doubt. No Beta/Proof Reading.

"I think it's best that I go," Nina tells Kaz, "we know I can be very persuasive." You smile, knowing exactly how persuasive Nina is capable of being.

"No," Kaz says plainly before looking to you, "you will go."

"Why?" You ask, and bite your tongue at the snapping rate of the question.

"Because you have the expertise to get you in," Kaz says, "and you're exactly his type."

"I resent the way you said that Brekker," Nina says. "Besides I am everyone's type."

"Nina, I need your skills elsewhere," Kaz says, "now go home, get sleep, tomorrow we have a job to do."

You know better than to argue with Kaz Brekker, but that doesn't stop Nina from trying. Once she finally exhausts herself from arguing with him, you hold the door open for her and start the short walk back.

Jesper stops you on the way, asking if either of you have recently set eyes on Wylan, Nina is uncharacteristically quiet, clearly thinking something over and over. "What dumb thing have you done now?" You ask. Jesper tilts his head side to side.

"I didn't do anything dumb," he says, and then upon some contemplation, "but I did say something dumb."

"What could you possibly say that is dumber than things you've come out with before?" You ask, trying not to let your gaze linger on Nina's blank expression too long.

"I was talking about missing Milo," Jesper explained. You nod.

"The goat," you say. Jesper rubs his neck all sheepish.

"Yeah, I am glad you recognised that, turns out that might not have been so obvious to everyone," Jesper says. You sigh.

"You didn't prefix it with, by the way I am talking about a goat?" you ask. Jesper takes his head.

"I would clip you one if I didn't think you were faster than me," you warn him.

"It's stupid, I know, and now I can't find him to explain," he says.

"I'd check the night market," you tell him. Jesper frowns.

"We have a night market?" he looks deeply unnerved.

"In the nice side of Ketterdam, he sometimes goes there when he is stressed, they make good snacks, and they sometimes import good powders," you explain. Jesper scans you up and down in a glance. "Yes, I listen to your boyfriend, now go and apologise while he is still your boyfriend."

"Received," Jesper says before dashing off into the dark.

"Dumbass," you whisper, you look to Nina, hoping for a smile, but she is scrunching up her nose in discontent. You don't try asking until you make it back into your kitchen, and offer Nina some hot chocolate. She shakes her head, not even really registering the question and that's more than enough to have you worried.

"What is it?" You ask.

"Hmm?" Nina says, looking startled out of her thoughts as she looks across the room to you.

"You don't think I can do this job?" you ask her.

"I know you can do this job," she assures you. "I don't like it any though."

"Why spend so much time arguing with Kaz, Nina, you knew it was pointless," you say, leaning against the counter.

"Had to try," she says.

"Why though?" You ask. She presses her hands together and then looks up at the ceiling, she is searching for a reason, a reason that isn't the truth, a reason that sounds more reasonable than the truth, but she fails to find one. "You're jealous, aren't you?"

You had meant about the job, about Kaz putting you in the centre, and asking Nina to pull some background tricks to keep them moving, but the second the words reach her the look of guilt on her face reveals a whole other kind of jealousy, a type you hadn't dared consider. She's jealous that you have to seduce someone as part of the job.

"No," Nina's voice is sturdy but her conviction is lacking. She won't meet your eye as she says it.

"Nina," you sound out her name soft and slow, and she quickly mistakes your empathy or pity and throws you a look. Her arms crossed across her chest and doing her best not to pout.

"Look, you don't have to look at me like that," she says, "I know it's part of the job."

"Nina, I am not looking at you like anything," you defend. She eyes you, not yet convinced. She has flirted her way through jobs before, she has flirted herself out of trouble more times than she can count. But with you it's different, because you didn't flirt for fun, or for the sake of it, you weren't like Nina and Jesper, you'd never got your kicks from watching someone else blush and buckle under the weight of your attention. Flirting was something you'd grown to do, a response to Nina and her charm, a charm that flourished your own. So the idea of Nina watching you work that same charm on someone else, it made her jealous, jealous in a way she hasn't ever really known before. But also protective.

"With your eyes like that," she waves a hand at you before returning it to her side. You've never seen Nina Zenik, Queen of Smiles and Charisma, so... unsure.

"I am looking at you the way I always look at you Nina," you tell her.

"You always look at me with such pity?" she asks. She huffs slightly, moving to cross her arms. "I had always thought it was awe in those pretty eyes of yours, but thank you for correcting me."

"Nina," you tell her, closing the space between the two of you to place your hands gently on her arms. "I never look at you with anything less than utter admiration, and complete reverence."

"Really?" she asks, smile creeping into her pout.

"Nina for a while now, I have been nothing short of ridiculously, and rather desperately, irrevocably in love with you," you say, "have I not made that abundantly clear?"

"Well," she shrugs a shoulder gently, "maybe not abundantly."

"That is on me then treasure, and all I can do is beg your forgiveness for such an egregious duplicity."

"You're just trying to distract me with words now," she teases, "keep going it's working for you."

You laugh, her arms move from being crossed to wrapping around your waist, holding you close to her, as she smiles at you, all forgiven, all argument disarmed. "You know this is just a job to me Nina," you tell her, "this will always just be a job, Ketterdam is not my home, and admittedly neither is Ravka, you are my home, and I will always return to you, you are my only loyalty."