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milknette · 4 years ago

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day 15 - mythical creatures

how i miss yesterday, and how i’d let it fade away.

tumblr month: @auyeahaugust

links: ao3 | ff.net

THE Agreste Mansion could have been beautiful, if not for the overgrown greenery and rusted fence that decorate the estate's exterior.

It looks like the textbook definition of what a haunted house is.

Marinette should be scared.

Instead, she takes out her cellphone, turns it on, faces the camera, and...

Goes live.

"Hey everyone, Marinette here!" She starts, waving almost awkwardly at the camera. (Thousands of viewers come storming into the live in seconds.) "So… welcome to the Ladybug— crap, I mean, the Ladyblog!"

Noticing that the camera is angled a little too low, she shifts to show herself better.

(Wow, she really is bad at this.)

"As you all know, or maybe you don't, haha… I'm heading the vlog for today!" She tries to smile, but it's clearly panicked. "Alya couldn't come back with me to Paris, unfortunately, and you all really wanted to see us cover the Agreste story so…," she moves along with the camera, trying to show off her surroundings.

(Nobody watching has the heart to tell her they can't see anything because her head's covering half the screen.)

"I'll be heading this adventure myself!" Marinette scratches her head awkwardly, and almost drops her phone as she hears a sudden crack! behind her. "Ohmygod what was that—"

She immediately turns the camera, only to notice a black cat pass behind her.

Its vivid green eyes almost make her shudder.

"Black cat," Marinette mutters to herself. "Sure, like I didn't know this was a terrible idea already.

She remembers a little too late that she's still online.

"I mean! This is going to be fun! Let's do this!"

The chatbox is filled with messages, but they all really say the same thing:

This is going to be a trainwreck.

But I am going to enjoy absolutely every minute of it.

(She pointedly ignores these messages and goes forward.)

Marinette walks towards the estate, using a key to unlock the rusted gate to the Agreste residence.

"If you're all wondering how I got entry to this place," she starts. "One of our subscribers actually helped us out," she turns towards the camera and smiles. "So Chloé Bourgeois, thanks a lot!"

(Yeah, thanks for giving her no choice but to go through with this video.)

"If it weren't for you, this video wouldn't be possible at all."

The gate opens with a resounding creaaaaak and Marinette has to force the unbothered smile on her face.

"Alright, let's go in."

[ INSTAGRAM STORY: maribug ]

"Hi guys! In case you don't know the story of the Agrestes, please swipe up with an article Alya wrote on the story below. As usual, be warned for creepy content!"

The Mysterious Disappearances of the Agreste Family

Almost five years ago, the Agrestes were the so-called 'it family' of Paris, France. Their family consisted of top fashion designer Gabriel, his beautiful wife, Emilie, and their only son, Adrien— a teenage model for his father's brand early on. In the public's eyes, this was a picture-perfect family.

However, this was soon revealed to be a ruse.

In 20XX, Emilie Agreste suddenly passed away. The family refused to comment and held a private funeral. A few weeks later, residents were surprised to find large fences erected around the residence, gating outsiders from entering the home. Father and son withdrew from contact with the outside world, aside from secretary Nathalie Sanceour and Adrien Agreste's unnamed personal bodyguard, nicknamed 'The Gorilla'.

Any media or news shared about the family were quickly taken down. For a long time, any and all information about the death of Emilie Agreste was removed— presumably by the husband himself.

News on the Agrestes stayed quiet for a year, until Adrien was spotted attending a local high school.

This was only for a day. After finding out about Adrien's attempted "escape", he was quickly returned to the premises and brought home.

The school refused to comment when we asked for an interview.

Due to limited information, little is known about what happened next.

The most accepted story, however, is that after Adrien was returned home, the Agrestes completely dropped off the radar. Even Gabriel Agreste was completely unreachable to his company.

Both Nathalie Sancoeur and 'The Gorilla' we're suddenly fired and removed from the premises without warning.

After a year of silence from the family, Sancoeur was finally given a warrant to enter the Agreste Mansion with the police force.

The mansion was empty. In fact, it seemed that nobody had occupied the space in months. A written report states that a cup of coffee Sancoeur remembers making from Mr. Agreste, on the day of her sudden termination, remained to be on his desk.

No sign of forced entry or violence was taken note of. They had just… disappeared.

A nationwide search was held to find the father-son duo, but to no avail. They were not found alive nor dead. The police soon branded this a cold case and filed it away.

Sancoeur was given control over the Agreste brand. 'The Gorilla' was also rehired to be her assistant.

Both declined to comment and continue to avoid topics talking about the Agreste family.

The mansion has been left untouched since then.

Until now.

(Please follow TheLadyblog on Instagram, tomorrow by 8PM vlogger Marinette Dupain-Cheng will visit the abandoned residence!)

The house is huge.

Marinette enters into a large foyer, run-down from years of neglect and disrepair. The pristine white of the walls have faded into a dull gray, complemented with spiderwebs in almost every corner. She holds her flashlight almost like a weapon.

Then, she switches to the front camera and shows the audience her surroundings.

"As you can see, the house seems untouched from when its previous owners lived here," Marinette begins, holding back the need to shudder. "Chloé messaged me that she ensured nobody else lived or even came in its vicinity," she explains, her tone turning more empathetic. "Apparently she and Adrien used to be friends, and she's still hoping that he'll come back to claim the house someday."

(Personally, Marinette doesn't think that he will— doesn't think he can, really— but decides to keep that little fact to herself.)

She turns the camera back to her.

"So anyway, I was given a floor plan to the building," she continues, raising up a piece of paper and showing it to her viewers. "Since the mansion is huge, and I can't possibly visit all the rooms tonight, tell me where you want to go!"

The comments flood in, and the answer is unanimous:

The previous room of Adrien Agreste.

Marinette opens the door carefully.

The door squeaking isn't that loud, but it echoes throughout the corridor and makes things so much creepier than they have to be.

She bites her lip, and enters the room— which takes up almost the entire second floor story.

Arcade stations, computers, games, books, and CDs fill up the entire floor. A television screen almost three times bigger than she is lays upon the wall. A basketball half-court decorates one side of the room. There are more doors which likely lead to other things to see, but she decides to check that later on.

"Okay, I don't think I'll do this room justice with a phone camera and a flashlight for lighting, but this is amazing," Marinette raves. "I feel like this is a teenage boy's dream room. Honestly, it's my dream room." She laughs to herself lightly, turning the front camera on. "Though I'd maybe change out the basketball court for my personal sewing space."

(Marinette briefly wonders why anyone would want to leave such a place, but dismisses the thought almost immediately; realizing that none of it could be enjoyed at all if she were alone.)

In fact, standing in the middle of it at that moment made her feel much lonelier than she was previously.

Except, she's not alone.

But Marinette's too busy looking around to notice the increasingly panicked messages of her viewers:

do yall

u all see that right…..

ohmygod is-

IS THAT REAL WTH

MARINETTE OMG

PLEASE TURN AROUND

RUN? DONT LOOK BACK?

PROTECT OUR SWEET SUMMER CHILD

I CANNOT WATCH ANOTHER LIVE WHERE SOMEONE GETS MURDERED PLS

CHECK UR MESSAGES GIRL !

Noticing her phone buzz with messages, she clicks on the tab that opens them.

Marinette's eyebrows wrinkle together.

"What are you guys talking abou—"

A scream, the sound of her phone cracking, and the live video suddenly being turned off.

well, there goes ½ of the ladyblog…

Alya wakes up to her phone overflowing with messages.

The first one she reads is extremely straightforward:

HELP I THINK MARINETTE'S DEAD

So understandably, she does what any good friend would do.

Think it's a prank set up by Marinette (for making her hold the live without her), get irritated, send her a 'haha nice try mari but dead is a stretch' message, then immediately go back to sleep.

Marinette, however, never gets the message.

It's easy to panic when death's staring you right in the face.

So she does, because death is quite literally staring right at her.

In the form of a sixteen-year-old boy whose face she knew all too well from all the hidden fashion magazines her teenage self hid under her bed.

Adrien Agreste.

(Well, at least now the question of did-he-live was answered. A stone-cold, dead, nope!)

And also, ghosts really do exist— who knew?

(The so-called paranormal expert didn't, apparently.)

The ghost moves toward her, as she scrambles away, her back suddenly hitting the wall.

"Please, if you're gonna kill me, do it quick," Marinette replies, rushing through the words. "I don't know how angry you ghosts are, but I swear violence isn't the answer. It'll solve nothing and make me dead so let's maybe move away from that—"

Adrien tilts his head, and it almost looks human. (Maybe if his head hadn't done a complete three-sixty at that exact moment, she would've calmed down. Instead, and understandably, she panics more.)

"Hey, hey! Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you."

"You aren't?" She asks, then suddenly horrified (and almost embarrassed), covers her body with her hands. "Don't possess me! Look, I'm a klutz and have literally no coordination. You don't want me! Actually, I can get you better bodies! I have this friend named Alya…"

(Marinette isn't sure why, but she feels extremely irritated with her best friend for some reason.)

The ghost laughs.

And it doesn't echo ohmygod he really is dead and she really is going to die and all this drama for a bunch of views what has she become—

He floats closer to her, and smiles. "I won't possess you either," he replies. "You can keep your body."

"... then, what do you want?"

"Well, I don't really want anything."

"Really?"

He looks almost amused. "I mean, you were the one who broke into my house. I guess I'd like to know why."

Okay, fair.

Marinette looks almost sheepish when she responds, realizing how dumb her reasoning actually is:

"Well, I'm a paranormal vlogger…"

Marinette has done a lot of strange things in her life.

But this— talking to a ghost about YouTube of all things, is probably the weirdest of all.

(The really terrifying thing about it was how comfortable she actually felt about it.

Talking to Adrien was terribly easy that you couldn't help but let your guard down.)

He looks at her with wide-eyed awe. "That's amazing! And I can't believe I get to be included in your video!"

She smiles lightly. "Well, you are kind of a big deal…"

"I never knew fashion meant that much to so many people!"

(The truth was that they knew Adrien because of his disappearance and the conspiracy around his family, but she decides against mentioning it. Though, it's quite strange to be so cautious of hurting a ghost, of all things.)

"Yeah," Marinette replies instead. "I used to collect your magazines, you know?"

Adrien brightens up. "Dang, you're a fan of me?" He bows down, and his head almost falls over. (She finds herself laughing.) "I'm honored, milady."

"Milady?" She asks teasingly. "What era are you from?"

"Hey—! Technically, we're the same age." He protests, before suddenly quieting down. "I guess I'd be twenty now, huh?"

The mood shifts, and Marinette can't do anything about it.

"... I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he only says. "I guess I'm just a little sad that I never really got to experience being a teenager. Y'know, being normal." He laughs to himself. "And even after death, I'm still not. Being stuck here and all."

Quiet.

"Do you mind if I ask what happened…?" Marinette begins, her voice soft. "Not that you have to answer but… it was so sudden when everyone got the news you were gone."

Adrien sighs. "I'm not sure myself," he explains. "My dad… he thought there was some way to bring her back. Bring my mom back to life. And he did things, some dark things, but they didn't work… and before I knew it, he was gone, and I was stuck like this."

He gestures down at himself. "I can't even leave the house, can you believe it? I've just been here and alone for years…" Then, a smile. "Until you came along."

"I'm glad I can be of some company," Marinette replies, smiling back.

(It's strange— so strange, but she feels connected to him in ways she's never felt connected to anyone.)

"I'm glad that the company who showed up was you."

At that, Marinette decides on an idea.

She stands, and gestures for him to follow.

"You're a ghost, so you can't touch things, right?"

"Yeah… but I can move them. I learned a lot of ghost skills while I was stuck here."

She smiles. "Great."

"What do you mean?"

Marinette walks over to the foosball table, groaning from years of neglect, and places her hands on it. "I may not be able to bring you back, but I can let you experience what it feels like to be a teenager." She tilts her head, pointing towards the game.

"Let's play?"

They play games late at night and into the early hours of the morning.

Marinette has never seen someone enjoy her company that much— like she had given him the whole world, and everything he'd ever wanted.

It makes her heart soar, to see him so happy.

They take a break as the clock tells them it's almost three in the morning.

Marinette settles into the couch, with Adrien lying down as he floats over her.

"I'm sorry you had to play with me," she starts. "Not really great at sports. And I can get pretty intense when it comes to online games."

Adrien only smiles at her, without a hint of irritation or regret. "No, this was perfect. It's the most fun I've had in a long time." He laughs. "Maybe ever. And I'll never forget this, no matter how long I stay like this."

She frowns as the words leave his mouth.

(Wasn't the thing tying him to the real world his failure to experience his life as a teenager?)

Marinette says it aloud.

"If only it were that simple," he responds, almost sad. "But I don't think that was ever the reason."

"Then what is it?"

"..."

"Adrien?"

"..."

"I won't judge it or anything. Please, I want to help."

Adrien sighs, then looms over her, the expression on his face almost breaking her heart. "It's corny, but… I wanted to experience love." He finally says. "After my mom died, I was locked away. I never felt my dad's love, and Nathalie cared for me, but that was it. My mom was the last person who ever loved me. I just wish I could've experienced that feeling one more time."

"...

I loved you."

"What?"

Marinette looks up at him, vulnerable. Her hands curl up into balls as they grab at the couch.

"I don't know if you remember me," she begins shakily. "But I was there that day you went to the high school."

"..."

"It was raining. And it was only for a moment, but you lent me your umbrella because I forgot mine," she laughs to herself. "I'm sure you don't remember me but…"

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

"... how did you know that?"

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng," he repeats. "I remember that name. I talked to Miss Bustier over the phone then, and she told me you were the first person I should find when I came to class. She told me you'd make me feel right at home. Adrien looks up at her, and smiles. "I guess she was right."

At that, Marinette feels her mouth tilt upward. "Took you a long time to find me, huh?"

"Better late than never, though?"

They share a laugh, before Adrien continues. "I was really looking forward to meeting you," he says. "And somehow, I knew it was you when I gave that umbrella. You just gave that feeling of home Miss Bustier was talking about… and I was so desperate to have you know me that the umbrella was my way of doing so. Even if I never gave my name, I hoped that somehow, in some way, you'd remember me." He smiles. "And you did."

"... I don't know what to say."

"I think I loved you then," Adrien says, almost to himself. "I just didn't know it yet."

They stare at each other for a moment, and Marinette feels her heart break and be whole at the same time.

The sun starts to show itself, peeking through the clouds.

"... I won't see you again anymore, will I?"

Adrien doesn't even have to nod for her to know his answer.

"Maybe I'll take back my, 'I love you', then."

He laughs.

"I don't like having to lose you all over again."

He makes his way to her, then presses a kiss to her forehead.

(She knows that ghosts can't touch her, but the warmth that spreads from his touch isn't anything short of real.)

"Good luck with your YouTube channel."

It's Marinette's turn to laugh.

"Are you sure those are what you want your last words to be?"

Adrien hums.

"I guess you're right," he replies softly. "I'll go with this then:

I love you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

And as the sun rises, she suddenly finds herself alone.

Marinette rushes home to use her laptop.

She scrolls through the messages— all assuming she's died, and dials a number she knows by heart.

"Oh thank God you're alive, I was so worried about you!"

"I saw your message, Alya."

"Oh. Haha, well! How was I supposed to believe that an actual ghost showed up on your live?"

"I guess you're right."

"... so, is it true? Was the ghost real? Is the Agreste mansion haunted?"

Marinette pauses.

Then, almost too softly for her to hear, she says it:

"Not anymore."

#auyeah2020 #mlauyeahaugust2020 #auyeahaugust #auyeah august #adrinette #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #ml #miraculous ladybug #milk writes #ml fic #ml fanfic #do ghosts fall under mythical creatures??#mayb not but my single braincell is too Tiredt to care #ghosts r also in some myths so i maintain that im right bYe #(ps i know how to use read more things now n i think thats Neat!

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icunlockers-blog · 6 years ago

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pllsetskyonice · 8 years ago

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@yuriplisetsky is a size queen

Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky

2,900 words

“What are you talking about?”

“Your Twitter? Your thread that spends about ten tweets waxing poetry about the size of my dick? Everyone’s talking about it, the fans are going crazy, I had Victor ringing me up half an hour ago to ask if it was true and if I really had deflowered Russia’s Fairy like that, and I just – what the hell were you thinking, Yuri?”

In which Yuri gets drunk and Tweets some things he probably shouldn't have.

AO3 link

So @94mercy made this post that headcanoned that Yuri gets drunk one night and talks about the size of Otabek’s dick on social media, and I immediately knew I had to write it. Otherwise known as me just wanting to join in with all the hung!Otabek content that’s been coming out of this fandom in recent weeks.

(Also tagging @daddybek because that’s where this all started back in February)

They’ve been dating for a few months when it happens.

Yuri goes round to Mila’s for a few drinks after practice one day, and they steadily make their way through a bottle of vodka, laughing and talking about their respective partners. The music is loud and Yuri feels all loose and giggly as he reaches for his phone, taking selfies and documenting their escapades on Snapchat. He’s never been this drunk before, so drunk he’s not even sure what order his memories from the last few hours go in, so drunk that he can barely stand, so drunk that the room is spinning.

He sits down and opens Twitter, starting to type. He doesn’t even think about what he’s Tweeting, just starts a thread and keeps on going until he gets it all off his chest. Mila is grabbing at his hands and pulling him up so they can dance together again, and Yuri’s phone lies on the couch, forgotten.

So he doesn’t see what he’s done until morning.

It’s the sound of his phone vibrating loudly on the bedside table that wakes him up. He’s in Mila’s spare bedroom, a small sized room with what feels like the most uncomfortable bed he’s ever slept on, but it evidently didn’t bother him at whatever time he collapsed onto last night. At least he made it into bed, he supposes. That’s an achievement, even if he’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes.

He grabs at his phone, squinting at the screen. It reads 6 AM, and is somehow fully charged, even though he has doesn’t remember plugging it in last night. It’s far too early. Yuri wants nothing more at this particular moment in time than to roll over and go back to sleep to avoid dealing with this hangover from hell, but it’s Otabek that’s calling him, so he supposes that he’d better answer.

“Hello?” he says, his voice sounding all croaky as he unplugs his phone and rolls back onto his back. There’s light streaming in through a gap in the curtains, and Yuri would get up and close them properly, but they’re too far away to deal with right now. Instead, he opts for the easier option: pulling his blankets over his head.

“Yuri, what the fuck?” Otabek asks on the other end of the line. Even in this still half drunk, hungover state, Yuri can tell that this is Not Good. “What were you thinking?”

“What are you talking about?” Yuri replies. He wonders if it’s about his and Mila’s Snapchat stories, but from what he can remember there’s nothing too outrageous on them, just some really bad singing in questionable English to pop songs neither of them like.

Yuri fumbles with his phone, opening Twitter with his phone call with Otabek still active in the background. He doesn’t even need to go onto his profile to see it, it’s all over his timeline. “Oh, shit,” he swears as he scrolls through the Tweets. “I don’t even remember posting any of this. I was so drunk, Beka. So drunk. I’m sorry.”