#she was verified but someone pointed out to me that she might have been a guy pretending to be a girl to try to get women's attention/pics

[localplaguenurse]

Falling Head over Heels (Pantalone x Male Reader) pt 8

WE ARE FUCKING BACK! (I immediately started hacking my lungs after typing this, I'm sick :P)

To make a long story short, for the past few months I've either been really busy, really depressed, and usually both. Also for some reason chapter 8 was already hard to write and I don't know why.

ALSO before we get into the fic, @your-local-furby drew some absolutely lovely fanart of MC apologizing and seeing the library from the previous two chapters. I think it finally kicked my brain back into gear lmao.

Without further ado, please enjoy!

@thedeimoshimself @eli-chris

It feels like the ground beneath me is sucking me in.

I feel myself sinking,

I wish the ground would swallow me whole.

Embarrassment washes over me and swallows me whole. I feel the air leave my chest I want to break free but I feel like I’m drowning. 

You take the page you’re scribbling your notes on and crumple it into a ball. You’ve reread your rough draft and decided the arranged wedding scene you had planned wasn’t tragic enough. The blind musician is tasked with performing for the prince’s wedding, but his heartbreak causes him to mess up his performance, which causes everyone to notice he’s crying, including the prince. You’re trying to convey the feeling of knowing every single person in the room is watching you during the lowest point in your life, but it’s just not coming together in a way you like. You’ll run it by Alik later.

Technically, Alik is no longer your editor as a result of your deal with the Yae Publishing House. Still, they’re one of your few friends, and their workload has lightened since your previous publisher terminated all of those other book deals. Now they’re acting as your beta reader before you send off the next draft to the editor at the Yae Publishing House. It’s actually making progress go a lot faster, so much so you might only need one final draft of the whole story before it’s finally published, as opposed to multiple drafts. 

I do not need sight to know everyone in the room is looking at me. I feel it in my broken notes that trail into nothingness. I feel it in the resulting silence. I feel it in the quiet murmur spreading through the room.

I feel tears in my eyes as I drop my head down, praying no one sees me crying. If I could, I would sprint out of the room, out of the palace, so no one is witness to my heartbroken embarrassment. I’d run so fast, the prince would have no time to chase after me. It would be for the best anyways. He deserves his perfect and beautiful bride, and I am no bride, I cannot verify if I am beautiful, and in this moment, I could not feel anymore flawed as a person and human. 

A knock on your door breaks your concentration. You’re dreading whatever is on the other side, but know it’s better to get this over with. 

“Yes?”

The door opens, and your mother pokes her head in through the gap. She offers a smile. “We have company. Come say hi, please.”

“I’m… kind of in the middle of something,” you reply, “and I’ve told you that I’m going to see Alik when I’m done writing.”

“How is she, by the way?”

“They’re fine.”

“And Maria? How’s she?”

“She’s alright, I think. I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“Well, tell them both I say hello. Anyways, if you have a minute, I would like you to come downstairs. There’s someone I’d like you to talk to.”

It takes you a moment to recognize what this is, mostly because it’s been a while since she tried pulling this off. When you realize what’s happening, you just shake your head and look at your mother. “Which family friend is this?”

She gives you a very unconvincing look of confusion. “My dear, what do you mean?”

“Mother, please.”

“... Ana. Anastasia.”

Anastasia is your younger sister Adéla’s friend. Much like your sister, she’s only a year younger than you, but unlike your sister, she actually likes you. Adéla and you have butted heads throughout your lives, as siblings tend to do and especially with such a small age gap, but Adéla has taken it a step further saying that it’s your fault her childhood was so “miserable” as she puts it. She claims that your diagnosis made you the centre of your parents’ attention until your youngest sister was born, and then they focused more on her than Adéla. Conveniently, she’s never had any sisterly drama with her, only you. You feel for her, but there was only so much you could do at the time, seeing as you were eight years old.

“Absolutely not,” you tell your mother.

“But you two got along so well when she would visit,” your mother insists, “and she’s become a fine young lady since the two of you last spoke! Don’t you remember reading together when you two were little?”

“I’m sure she’s beautiful,” you say, “but Adéla will throw a fit if she finds out you set me up with one of her friends.”

“You don’t know that.”

“And I don’t want to find out,” you tell her, “and I told you I don’t like being set up on dates.”

Your mother lets out an exasperated sigh. “I’m just worried about you, okay? I want to make sure my son is happy, healthy, and I want him to find someone he can settle down with. Your brother was already married at your age, and Adéla’s going to be having another baby soon.”

“Yes, but I’m not Pavel or Adéla,” you say, “the dating scene is different for me, and playing matchmaker isn’t going to make me feel any better or help me.”

Your mother just looks at you. That sad, pitiful look you know all too well. It stopped pulling on your heartstrings long ago, but sometimes it’s just easier to indulge her than it is to fight her on it. Besides, she means well, you think, it just can’t be helped that she doesn’t know her son has no interest in women.

You sigh, and stand up, much to your mother’s delight. “I’ll say hi, and that’s it.”

She grins, and she motions for you to follow her.

----

“... and she just happens to be single, too.”

Alik sets their glass down. “Interesting. So when’s the wedding?”

“It’s not happening,” you reply, “thank the Tsaritsa for that.”

“I’m honestly surprised your parents haven’t put you in an arranged marriage yet,” Alik comments.

“How many viable marriage candidates do you think there are that would be thrilled to marry someone who’s not only going blind, but could pass it on to their children as well?”

“Depends on how much the family is getting paid.”

“And it would not be much.”

The tavern is surprisingly quiet tonight. You chalk it up to it being the middle of the work week, not as many patrons willing to get drunk if they have work early in the morning. Currently, you and Alik are sitting at a table in the corner of the room while a few older patrons mill about, chattering on about their own lives at the bar. It’s actually rather nice, you think.

“What would they try to sell your bride to be on?” Alik asks.

“Um…” You look into your half drunk glass, trying to think of something funny. You clear your throat, straighten your posture, and put on your best business smile. “Here’s a fine young man who has no real work skills, and it’s not like they would do him any good since he’s considered legally blind and has between thirteen and fifteen years before he is fully blind. His only profitable skill is writing, though he doesn’t make enough to support a household. His blindness is also genetic!”

“By the Archons, at least say one nice thing about yourself,” Alik teases, though there’s a subtle sincerity to their words.

“I think I’m decent,” you say, “I think I might even make an okay husband, but I don’t think I’d be the kind of husband Pavel or my father are.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” Alik replies, “there are plenty of families and couples where the husband isn’t always a provider. Besides, you’re not really a ladies man to begin with.”

You shake your head. “It’s not even that, it’s just… you know I try not to make a big deal of me going blind, but it’d be naïve of me to pretend that it’s not, and especially if I was in a relationship. Whether I like it or not, whoever I marry is going to inevitably become my caretaker. There will come a day where I’m going to need help, and I’ll rarely be able to return that favour.”

“That’s why it’s in sickness and in health,” Alik comments. They reach across the table and take your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “For what it’s worth, I think you’d make a good house husband, before and after you start seeing the world how Maria does.”

Maria is Alik’s cousin, and one of your few very close friends. She has been a big help to you in writing your book as her blindness is similar to the main character’s. While he was born blind, she actually had vision when she was born. Unfortunately, she suffered a very severe head injury when she was very young. She has little to no memory of her life before she lost her sight as a result, as well as having some developmental problems growing up. These days she’s doing much better, though her eyesight is still gone. At most, she can detect if there’s light, but that’s the extent of it. 

“Do you have permission to make jokes about her being blind?” you ask.

“I not only have permission, but that’s not even the worst joke I’ve gotten away with.”

“I don’t want to know.”

“For the best.”

Your table goes quiet as you and Alik take a moment to drink. You try not to cringe at the taste of whatever the hell Alik recommended you try. It’s a beer, and you can taste that, but it’s a lot more bitter than you like. Still, they bought it for you, it would be rude to spit it out.

“You don’t have to drink that, you know.”

“It’s an acquired taste, I’ll get used to it.”

You see a smile twitch onto Alik’s lips, and even if they try to hide it, you can see a shit eating grin from miles away. 

“Okay,” you say, “out with it.”

“What do you mean?”

“You thought of something terrible, I want to hear it.”

Alik glances around the room, assessing how audible their comment would be. You take a sip of your drink, and they grin.

They lean in. “I’m sure Pantalone would be happy to hear that.”

You immediately sputter, spraying Alik in the face. They yell, swiping at their face as if they were sprayed with acid. You cough as what was left in your mouth goes down the wrong pipe. “Fuck, w-why’d I take a drink–”

“Did you have to spit that in my face?” Alik asks.

“Shut up,” you wheeze out. You give one more hearty cough, your throat and chest burning, and you can breathe again. You sit up, rubbing your chest through your shirt while Alik wipes their face and the table with napkins. You look around, and see the few patrons staring at your table. You painfully chuckle, and turn back to your friend. “S-Sorry, I should know better by now.”

Alik shrugs. “I’m not wrong, am I?”

“I told you that in confidence,” you whisper.

“You actually told me before the tea party,” Alik tells you. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s starting to show in your book.”

You feel your face flush, and you narrow your eyes. “I think I would know if I was writing about him, thank you.”

“The prince was a lot more arrogant in your first drafts,” Alik explains, “but in more recent iterations, it’s been toned down a lot. He’s also a lot more understanding of the musician’s blindness.”

You’re confused. “Well, yes. My first drafts are years old, so I’ve had to make some adjustments to better fit my writing style now. Besides, I’ve read too many stories about asshole love interests that don’t really learn anything, they just get tragic backstories that authors think justify their shitty behaviour. I’m not adding my characters to that pile.”

“No, I agree on that,” Alik says, “but even then, he was still a solid character, arrogance aside. He was just a spoiled prince who had to actually think about other people for the first time in his life. Like he’s never had to deal with someone with a disability, and doesn’t know how else to feel other than annoyed. In the more recent drafts, he still doesn’t know how to deal with it, but he’s a lot more willing to make up for the disrespect, where the old version did it, but complained the whole time. It just so happens that this change happened right when you met him for the first time.”

“That’s… hm.” You take a sip and don’t spit it in Alik’s face. “You’re on the right track, but I don’t think I was writing all of that because of a crush.” You feel your face flush warmer again. “He was a bit of an ass at the party, but since then he’s become one of…” You take a moment to count names on your finger. “... six or seven people that aren’t patronizing about me going blind. I’d just been putting up with most of my family either coddling me or being inconvenienced by me, but he’s a rare instance of someone making accommodations, but not making a big show of it. That’s why the book was like that until I met Pantalone.”

You stare into your glass. “And… a-and it’s why I enjoy his company so much…”

Alik doesn’t say anything. You look up, and you see their expression has softened a little bit. They lift their drink up to you, and you smile and lift yours up.

“Cheers.”

You both take a swig, and somehow the disgusting drink tastes sweeter going down. Your face feels warm, and you wonder why you’re still blushing when you see you’re already halfway through your drink. Alik has a similar glow in their cheeks. 

“That’s really sweet and cute,” Alik says, “but I do have to ask you something.”

You feel whatever warm feelings you’re feeling lessen when Alik’s softened expression gains a hint of concern. Their smile looks awkward by comparison, before they sigh and lose it altogether. You’re already dreading what they’re about to say.

They hesitate for a moment, and when they speak, it’s in a whisper. “Do you like him, or do you like what he’s done for you?”

“W-What?”

“I wouldn’t ask that if we were talking about anyone else,” Alik clarifies, “but I have to ask when it’s him. I don’t want to rain on your parade, I’m happy you like someone, but… he’s a harbinger. One of the more likeable ones, but not without flaws.”

“I know…”

Alik sighs. “Look, if it were some other handsome rich man, I’d say go for it. The fact it’s a harbinger specifically makes me a little worried, I won’t lie.”

You sound like my mother. “It’s a crush, not an engagement,” you tell them. “We enjoy each other’s company while he works with my father and sister. I just enjoy it differently than he does.”

“Still, even as friends, I’d be cautious. If not for what he’d have planned, then for what others might have in store for him.”

You take a swig. “You want to know what’s funny? You’re the first person to bring up his enemies as a point for why I shouldn’t get near him.”

“I am not.”

“No, seriously. My mother doesn’t want me near him because he’ll probably, I don’t know, kill me or sell me or steal my ideas, depends on the day. My father thinks I’ll ruin everything those two have built together, which I still don’t know why Pantalone is working with him.”

“Maybe your dad’s indebted to him or something.”

“...”

Alik notices your silence. They say your name in a soft voice, seeming worried by your expression. Your father’s not in debt, is he? The business isn’t as prosperous as it was when you were little, but job markets change all the time, and the economy is ever fluctuating. It’s purely the result of what happens when a business runs for as long as it does. Sometimes an empire doesn’t crumble, but rather dies slowly.

“Hey, are you okay?”

You snap out of it. “I’m, uh, I’m fine.” You push your seat back and stand. “I’m just, um, I’m going to go to the washroom for a second.”

“... Okay? Just watch yourself.”

“I’ll be fine,” you call out over your shoulder before immediately bumping into someone. Unlike with Pantalone, you actually manage to catch yourself before you fall. You know that Alik is holding their head in their hands, possibly stifling laughter too for a little extra salt in the wound.

“Archons, sorry,” you immediately blurt out, “I didn’t see you there.”

The ginger haired man laughs. “Oh, no worries comrade! Just be more careful next time!”

You stare at the man, eyes widening. His smile grows, almost reaching the dull blue of his eyes.

“Why the surprised face?” he asks jovially.

You sigh and shake your head. “I have got to stop meeting harbingers like this.”

[artemismatchalatte]

I hate constantly questioning and not knowing what identity I am. I am fully 30 years old and still do not know what I want. I usually just know what I really DON'T want because that's usually what is offered to me. I'm very good at finding what I don't want.

At this point if I am actually asexual or demisexual I would not be surprised. Because I got repulsed a woman who was being extremely forward on the dating site I was on. We did not know each other at all (literally the second message I got from this woman was sexual and all I said was hi). Am I crazy for thinking that maybe we should at least try to get to know each other first???

[selamat-linting]

Last night, a friend reached out to me asking for help. His name is Fahed ( @fahedshehab-new ). He talked to me about his eldest daughter Sahar, she is a very smart girl who wanted to study and be a doctor. But the bombings made her and her sisters to lose a year of school. They've been displaced from Rafah for ten times!

So thats why, they want to leave for a safer place where all of them can grow up without fear of bombings and disease. They set up a fundraiser, but its been stagnating at a halfway point for a while now. The donations have slowed down so much that Fahed said his daugher Sahar is starting to fear that maybe they'll never be able to leave and might all die there.

I don't have enough words to say how crushing that is. They're in an impossible situation and forced to e-beg and expose their pain try to make it palatable enough for people like us to help. Its unfair. Fahed and his family shouldnt be going around tumblr pleading for mercy and a little cash.

The least we can do is to help. Give a little donation or if you dont have the means, please share their campaign to someone who can. They've been verified and theyre sitting at 29k / 50k as of me writing this

Please help. Your donation could be the difference between life or death!

Tagging : @commissions4aid-international

[angstywaifu]

The Lost Sister - Part 26

Synopsis: Xaden is known as an only child due to his sister who 'died' during the Rebellion. Little do they know she didn't die and has been so close this entire time.

Garrick Tavis x OC The Lost Sister Masterlist | Masterlist

”You can do what now?” Xaden nearly yells after getting over his shock.

I can mind speak. I say confidently in his head, causing him to jump back a bit, earning chuckles from Liam and Garrick.

I had spent the afternoon practicing on them. Jumping between their minds with ease, as if already second nature to me. All I had to do was focus on them and it seemed my mind connected with theirs. Only proven by how easily I had reached out and done the same to Xaden. I was also quite proud of the name I had given the ability. Direct and explained it perfectly.

”Does Carr know?” He demands as he starts to pace.

I shake my head. “No, this happened after I left. He only seemed intent on seeing if my signet blocked out other mental signets. And I can now safely say Dain’s signet did not work on me at all. And that was without me trying to put a shield up. But that doesn’t mean its not something he knows about. Seems there are tomes that have spoken of my ability somewhere.”

Xaden looks as if he breathes a sigh of relief. I would have said it was in regards to my mind being safe from Dain, but I can feel something else fuelling his relief. But what that was, I wasn’t sure. With how much he had going on I had no doubt there was others higher up with signets I was now safe from.

”I assume you tried to put a shield up?” Bodhi asks from where he is perched up against some stacked fighting mats.

I smirk and nod. “I did, sent Aetos jumping back from me as if I had electrocuted him. Was quite satisfying actually.”

”Well that is something at least. Now we just have to be careful of ourselves around Dain. Sadly our shields will not work against his like yours has.” Xaden states as he stops his pacing and stands next to Bodhi.

”I take it you’ve tried?” I ask him.

Xaden nods. “Not myself, but we have tested the theory with other cadets with stronger shields. He gets right through them like a knife through butter. So the fact he could barely make a dent in yours without even trying just goes to show how strong yours are.”

”You said Carr mentioned tomes about your signet. He let slip what they were at all?” Garrick asks from where he sits next to me, arm draped over my shoulders as I sit tucked into his sides.

I shake my head. “Sadly no. But least we know there are some. As well as fairy tales and stories of it. It’s a starting point.”

The others nod in agreement. The slip of that information, intentional or not was at least a starting point. One that had me thinking of where to start. And I knew exactly where to start. And none of these guys would be overly keen on my suggestion. But I had a feeling we could trust her. With time and how closer her and Xaden we’re getting despite him saying other wise, she could be a great asset.

”And I might have a suggestion on where we can start.” The others all turning to look at me.

”Why do I feel like we aren’t going to like your suggestion sweetheart?” Garrick drawls from next to me.

I look up at him and smirk. “Because you wont. Not entirely anyway.”

”Spit it out then. Where do we have to look?” Imogen asks.

I turn and look at Xaden, his eyes widening as if already knowing my answer.

”Not where. Who. And who better than my brothers new partner in crime for life. Violet Sorrengail.”

Xaden had not been thrilled by suggestion, but had agreed she was our best bet once we could verify she wouldn’t go tell someone about my signet. Though as I had pointed out, there was a very high chance she knew about Dain’s and as far as I knew hadn’t told anyone about it, even with how distant they had become while she had been here. He promised once he was sure my signet was safe, he would approach her about it. But only him.

”Aetos did not want to let you two go did he?” Garrick muses as we walk up to the flight field.

Garrick and Xaden had come to grab Violet and I for some training. Not that I needed it, but I took the excuse to get out of classes for a little bit. Aetos had put Garrick and Xaden through the wringer to let us go. Mainly Violet who was yet to manifest a signet. Claiming she needed Carr’s class more than anyone. But as Xaden had countered she wasn’t going to manifest a signet suddenly in Carr’s class and had proven she had the strongest shield in our year. I did not miss how Dain’s eyes flickered to me at that comment. He knew mine were significantly stronger that Violets. But it wasn’t public knowledge. Violet had proven she had mastered the basics and Xaden had dragged her out before he could say no. He had tried to fight it with me saying signet needed training. But as I pointed out I had a classified signet and was not allowed to fully show it off in classes. And with that I had turned and walked out, a snickering Garrick not far behind me. Which now lead to us heading down to the flight field to catch up with Xaden and Violet who definitely had a head start with only having to go to the first year doors three levels down. Due to Garrick insisting I move my stuff, we had to go all the way up to the third floor.

”No he didn’t. He’s just worried we wont win squad games. He is hell bent on winning it.” I inform Garrick as we push through the doors into the rotunda.

”You guys will be fine. Between you and Liam you should have the combat challenges and that hands down. Sadly I can’t speak about the other aspects.” The way he speaks, I know he knows what is coming. Wing leaders and section leaders knew everything to do with squad games as they didn’t take part as they didn’t technically belong to a squad.

”Don’t get any privileges, from being your kind of girlfriend?” I tease as we approach the stairs.

Garrick smirks and goes to respond, but his face goes blank as he pulls us both to a stop, his arm going in front of my protectively. I follow his gaze and watch as Colonel Aetos, General Sorrengail and Pancheck approach us.

”We’re getting the grand welcome today it seems.” Muses Colonel Aetos as they stop in front of us. My guess is they had encountered Xaden and Violet on their way up. “And I finally get to meet Fen Riorson’s daughter. Well know you by your actual name now. It still amazes me you hid her for long General, none of us had a clue who she really was.”

Colonel Aetos’s eyes look behind Garrick and I, and I know instantly who stands behind us. That familiar, black unhinged presence at the edge of my mind. Garrick going stiff as he angles his head ever so slightly to see who stands behind us. The muscle in his jaw twitching, eyes darting between the group in front of us and the General behind.

”Trust me Colonel, was no easy feat keeping who she was a secret from you. Surprised you believed me so easily when I introduced her as my niece.” Melgren drawls from behind us.

”Helps when she barely looks like her father and brother. And if I recall, not much like the women Fen called his wife for a short period of time either.” A small smirk on the Colonel’s face.

”Must have taken after some distant relatives.” I say sternly.

He just chuckles. “Some very distant relatives it seems. Well don’t let us hold you up cadets.”

And with that they walk past us, but I don’t miss the feeling of their eyes on us as they walk away. Mainly Melgren and Aetos, who as I turn my head catch looking directly at me. Clearly I was also on someone else’s radar, but for other reasons entirely. Part 27

@riorgail @going-through-shit @fw-gt @bbkissme99 @xceafh @leptitlu @came-to-laugh-but-cried @onthewaytotimbuktu @daardyrnitta @lovemesomevesey @mxtokko @krowiathemythologynerd @callsign-blue @1islessthan3books

[matan4il]

Watched Eurovision last weekend and tried to only pay attention to the music but oof, the Israel derangement was horrid. Were any of the other contestants nice to Eden or at the very least not total assholes to her because where's she's from? Please tell me someone was decent or even mildly professional.

Hi Nonnie!

I'm glad to tell you that there WERE people who were personally decent to Eden and the Israeli team, from what I've heard.

One of the parts that suck is that it feels like talking about it too loudly might bring those people into the line of fire. I can say that about myself, that while I was treated awfully by some people in fandom, I've had people be absolutely wonderful to me, and I've had to keep my mouth shut and not thank or celebrate them publicly, because that would have drawn the fire to them. They absolutely do not deserve that. And it sucks that I can't even be openly grateful. Same with the people friendlier to Eden, we Israelis have heard stuff, so we know of them and are thankful, but I don't think anyone has said anything too public, because no one wants to endanger them.

Still, I hope it's been long enough since the final, that we can safely share a few things. Also, I'll emphasize that most of this is hearsay, I can't verify any of it, because it wasn't published officially, this is just the stuff we hear.

The Israeli singer who grew up in and was representing Luxembourg was really lovely with Eden. Tali could have easily avoided ANY association with Eden, so I give her credit for not doing that. The German singer was the nicest to the Eden and Israeli delegation, and I also heard that Germany actually stood up for Israel when the EBU wanted to disqualify it, rightly pointing out the differences between this situation and Russia's ban. I heard good things about the Austrian singer as well, the Latvian, and the Georgian singer. There's probably more that aren't popping into my mind right now, but this is a start, and it's nice knowing kind people, who won't bully a 20 years old singer just because of her nationality, do exist, right?

Another part that sucks is that even some of the people who were nice backstage to Eden, were only willing to do so away from the public eye. I think the most extreme one is the 2023 runner up, Finnish performer Käärijä. He ran into Eden backstage and was totally cool with them doing a short, quick rendition of his ESC song together (which you can see in the link below). It was clearly just two people who love music having fun together, but once the vid was posted online, people started attacking him for supporting genocide (because that's not a leap of logic at all), and he quickly put out a message denouncing everything he's said and done ever, including being born. Then he just had to reassure all of his bullies that he's "okay" even further. The Norwegian 2023 singer who was supposed to deliver her country's jury results had already announced she won't as an anti-Israel measure, so when he was supposed to give the Finnish jury vote, he simply announced he won't, letting people make the connection, and figure out for themselves that it was an anti-Israel move.

Still I think you can take the ones who weren't loudly nasty to Eden, and assume most were nice enough to her privately, even if not publicly. To figure out who those probably were, on top of the ones I mentioned above, I'll just give a short rundown of the performers who were being awful about Israel to different degrees (so you can figure out who was at least decent by way of elimination): Ireland, Belgium, Switzerland, the UK, the Netherlands, Greece, Portugal, Lithuania, Norway, Finland, Slovenia, San Marino, Denmark.

I hope I helped... Have a good day! xoxox

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[wonderfullifestories]

How Belingorecoup.org got my Disabled page back.

This story is solely true and not fiction.

I have a story to share with you all. On October 13th, I suffered a devastating loss - my beloved Tumblr account, which I had been building for over 13 years, was suddenly gone. It was more than just an account to me; it was my primary means of communication with my family and friends. I had even started a new page, but it didn't have the same following as my main page.

I couldn't understand why Instagram would ban my account. I hadn't done anything wrong or deserving of such a punishment. Desperate for answers, I reached out to Instagram, sending them a request and even a photo to verify my identity. However, they continued to keep my account disabled and locked. I felt hopeless and lost, especially since it happened around my birthday week.

But then, my friend Adams, who worked at an IT cafe, told me about someone he knew who had successfully recovered her disabled Instagram page. She had also been wrongfully disabled by Instagram. Initially, I was skeptical due to my previous experiences, but since it came from a friend, I had a glimmer of hope. Adams assured me that this person was trustworthy.

Without wasting any time, I visited their website, belingorecoup.org, and reached out to the expert mentioned there. I shared my ordeal, and after a few hours of confirming my message, I received the most joyful news - my account was back! I couldn't contain my happiness.

I wanted to share this story with all of you who might be going through a similar situation. If you're trying to regain access to your lost page, I highly recommend reaching out to the experts at belingorecoup.org if you have been disabled wrongfully. I feel at this point everyone needs to know about them. Don’t mind the negative reviews they are surely trustable and I am a living proof. If they were able to help me I believe they can help you too. Don't lose hope, and remember that there are solutions out there.

[hyperpotamianarch]

Weird question, but I'm a little lost right now lol. My mom always told me her mom was raised Jewish and my mom's grandma was born Jewish. She's not at all religious and raised me atheist. I've done my best to keep kosher, study Torah, learn Hebrew, attend services or go to shul, perform mitzvot, etc in the past decade or so, and definitely thought of myself as a ba'al teshuvah.

Lately, I decided to get on a genealogy website and look into my actual ancestors. I found US census records, military draft cards, hospital death certificates, marriage licenses - extremely trustworthy, verifiable sources - going back to at least 1880 in a very clear trail. My grandma's extremely Polish maiden name came from her Polish Catholic father. Grandma's grandmother and grandfather came over from Bulgaria in the 1880s and were married in a church.

While it's cool to see my great great great grandparents' actual handwriting and know where they lived, I was completely wrong about everything I thought I knew about my family history and I feel like a complete berk. I genuinely thought I was Jewish. I wasn't trying to lie to people or misrepresent Judaism to curious gentiles or worm my way into Jewish spaces in order to proselytize. I still definitely want to continue my study and officially convert, and I'm trying to work up the courage to lay it all out in front of the local rabbi and ask what he thinks I should do. I've only gone to two Yom Kippur services and a few study sessions over Zoom, so I don't really know him or the congregation well.

I don't want to come off sounding like I intentionally lied to him or that I'm trying to get special treatment or skip steps during the conversion process. This is a genuinely jarring realization that's changed the way I think about myself and my faith. Do you have any advice for me going forward, or do you know someone who might?

To be honest, I'm... Probably not the best person to turn to on this topic. However, I can try and help.

You didn't lie to anyone, and this kind of things can happen. You can probably said you were told by your family you were Jewish but upon investigation you found out your great grandparents married in a church. Now, technically that doesn't directly point to the idea that your grandmother wasn't Jewish - she could've been a Jewish woman attempting to assimilate with general society, or have converted to Christianity (which according to Orthodox Judaism at least doesn't change her descendants' claim to Judaism.

Honestly, at this point... I think it's more a matter of having courage to talk to the Rabbi about it than it is about things of the religion. And yeah, gathering courage to talk to an authority figure you barely know is going to be hard.

I don't know if it'll be helpful, and I hope this won't hurt you, but I know a joke about people in a similar situation don't take it as me laughing at you for being where you are, but maybe it can help add levity to your eventual conversation with your congregation's rabbi. Anyway, here goes:

Three Jewish brothers found out that their mother wasn't Jewish. One was a Hareidi, Ultra Orthodox; another was more Neo-Orthodox, but tended to go with strict Halacha; and the third tended to go with more lenient Halacha. When they found out they are Goyim, the latter immediately went to eat pork before he converted - since, as he got some time to be Goy, he could at least enjoy it. The second, on the othr hand, went to eat meat from a cow that had a hole in her lungs, as up to today he went according to the Halacha that it is forbidden. The first said: "oh, now I can drink Coca Cola!"

(Hareidim tend to only trust very specific Kashrut brands. Maybe there could be a version with Orthodox, Conservative and Reform Jews, but I never heard one.)

If you still feel trepidation... you can, perhaps, turn to others on Tumblr that are better suited to that than I. I'm an Israeli Jew and I assume you are American, so there might be cultural differences. I suggest you try be open with your Rabbi, personally, but I might be missing something cultural that is different outside of Israel.

I wish you good luck in talking to your Rabbi and your conversion process!

[girldragongizzard]

Chapter 9: Character growth

Säure really is beginning to seem like everyone’s boogeyman. Like, his involvement doesn’t seem like it’s just some educated guess on Chapman’s part nor my own suspicion, but something everyone I know is taking for granted.

It makes me want to find him to see if I can confirm it.

People compare billionaires to dragons all the time, pointing out how they hoard wealth needlessly and to the detriment of the land around them. But so far, hoarding really hasn’t been a big part of my life. Now that I know that my personal belongings are safe in Nathan’s garage for the time being, I feel safe about them and capable of focusing on other things.

If anything, I might be hoarding social connections now. I’m certainly becoming emotionally attached to everyone I talk to. It’s different with humans than it is with dragons, but it’s still an emotional attachment all the same.

I don’t know how the other dragons are doing in regards to hoarding. It just keeps not coming up. We have more important things to talk about, like Säure’s company, Equisetum Wildlife, and Joel and I having been kidnapped.

Still, we spent six hours talking in the arboretum. Six dragons for six hours, just to air our feelings and suspicions about other dragons who might be allied with Säure, and no concrete evidence that it’s happening.

Except Joel.

When I pointed this discrepancy in proof out, Joel yawped and stepped forward, confirming my suspicions about the night of my interview with the Mayor.

Joel had been recruited and then betrayed.

Six hours, and even though we had articulate and well spoken Wentin there, and Astraia and Tannis who weren’t so far behind, we hadn’t gotten anything more concrete than that, unfortunately.

Watching Ian talk for Brenna had been fascinating. He’d even affected a somewhat feminine voice, and her body language seemed to match what he was saying. It was the best act of faking telepathy I can imagine, and at this point I’m sure it wasn’t actually faked.

But we all ended up calling it off, frustrated, slightly suspicious of each other, and agreeing to be careful and to meet again when one of us had something verifiable.

And then I had gone back home to my roof thinking that maybe I had been invited there to stop a five way fight.

I spent the evening growling and trying to talk to myself, pacing my roof. And then went to sleep as it got dark. I barely even noticed the clouds rolling in.

Then my mind had the audacity to continue that whole “discussion” as a dream. Every time I went back to sleep.

So, I’m lying here on my roof a couple hours after Morning Roll Call, extremely grumpy about all that, thinking it might be extremely nice to just stay up here and ignore my tablet all day, and just take the entire Sunday to myself.

The coffee shop is closed, afterall. And Queen Meg needs her fucking alone time. She needs to think. Or stop thinking.

I get up and stretch again.

I’ve found myself stretching more often this morning, as something feels tight. And I think that last night I was rolling around in my sleep. I’d slept longer than usual, but I feel way more worn out than any other morning.

Grumpy, tired, and restless.

A good rock to lean against sounds awfully nice right now, and I find I’m jealous of Joel and his stretch of shoreline.

And there’s an itch, right in the nape of my neck where I can’t bite at it. But fortunately, my wing claws are really good for that spot and…

I see flakes of stuff falling to the rooftop.

There’s a comic from the internet that runs through my head. A two panel affair drawn by someone named pocketss, of a dragon holding up her leg and saying, “OMG Becky feel my leg I just shed”.

And I’d laugh at myself, but I desperately need a big fucking rock. A boulder, or three.

I cast around the rooftop futilely looking for one for several laps before I realize that the brick building itself is basically just one big giant boulder. I just have to find a reasonable place to rub up against it.

The alleyway. There are no windows in there, and I’d be mostly out of everyone’s sight. And if anyone turns in there to take a shortcut or something, I can just say, “Hi.” Which I taught myself how to do last night, along with a couple other useful words I’ve needed lately.

In desperation I leap off the building and flutter down there to find myself strutting up and down the alley, rubbing myself against every open brick and stone surface available, even rolling on the pavement.

And as exhausting as it is, I spend the better part of the day doing that and not much else.

If I don’t get my regular shipment of meat tonight, a couple of seagulls are gonna die, and I might not actually feel remorseful about it this time.

Assuming I’m not preoccupied with actively shedding well into the next day.

When does this stop?

Do I get a break?

What the hell? My whole body is itching.

When I start noticing larger flakes of scale shaped hide lifting off of me here and there, I try to help them get off faster by biting them and pulling. And then I find myself eating them.

Is this like a monthly thing or something? How often am I going to have to do this?

King Gidorah’s Breath, this sucks.

But, I do get to say, “Hi,” a couple times, which is as delightful as I imagined, as distracted as I am.

Someone walks in, and I stop and look at them, and say, “Hi.”

The first person just turns around and walks right out of the alley without breaking stride or saying anything.

The other, a bit later, says, “Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry!” And backs out quickly, with hands up, looking flustered. Just like they’d walked into a bathroom to see a naked woman drying herself off after a shower. I feel weirdly affirmed by this, and briefly wonder if a cop would dare try to arrest me for indecent exposure.

It’s when this child stands there and watches me for a while without saying anything that I find I can’t do the whole, “Hi,” routine. I feel like I shouldn’t interact with them, and I just keep working at getting myself clean of dead skin.

I’m wondering to myself whether this really came on so quickly today, or if I just didn’t notice the initial signs of it for the past few days or so, when the child looks down the street briefly and then steps into the alleyway and asks, “Want some help?”

That’s when I stop and look at them, careful to use only one eye to do so.

I feel like I need to be honest, but also to turn their help down specifically, so I string together a couple of my new words with old ones in hopes it comes across that way.

“Yes. Thanks. Please. No,” I say. I wish I’d taught myself “but” now.

They blink up at me in confusion, but don’t move.

“Thanks. No,” I repeat.

“Really?” they say. “I bet I’d be good at getting the small bits you can’t see.”

And I'm about to say “no” again when it occurs to me that I really do need help with something, because it’s been getting in the way.

I pull my tablet out of my purse, lay it on the ground, turn it on, open up the app, and say, “Actually, purse, please.”

And then I sit up and compose myself to present my purse, which falls into place in front of my chest. Chapman gave me this purse, which looks flame orange to me, and was thoughtful about it. The strap has clasps holding it to the purse.

“Of course!” my new friend exclaims, and eagerly steps forward to assist, undoing the clasps and gingerly removing my purse. “My name is Molly. Want me to hold onto it for you?”

“Thanks. No,” I say. Then use the tablet to add, “Put this in purse. Take purse to coffee shop. Explain.”

“Oh! OK!” Molly agrees, and then does what I ask.

When they come back, I am already working on the spots the purse was preventing me from really getting at.

“How long does it take?” Molly asks.

I have no idea how to respond without my tablet, and I'm really busy. It feels too good to be doing this now. There’s a lot of relief in it at this point.

And I keep at it.

After a while, Molly says, “Oh. You can’t talk much without your screen. OK. Can you say your name?”

I stop enough to say, “Meg.”

“I’ll leave you alone, but I wanted to say. Um. My pronouns are she/her, because I’m a girl. Mostly,” she looks a little uncomfortable about having said this to me for some reason, and she looks a little more antsy and ready to go find her parents again. But then, just before she goes, she says, “That looks like it’s really awful, but I still wish I was like you.”

That brings me up short, and I lift my head to look at her with my left eye again. Then I lower my head down to about level with her midsection and close my eyes most of the way, by way of my usual smile.

I’m halfway down the alley and she’s at the mouth of it. I’m sure it looks like a bow to her, and it is.

Even if I had a larger vocabulary, I’m at a loss for words.

“Thank you for talking to me, Meg,” Molly says. “I have to go now. I hope your shedding feels really good when you’re done.”

“Thanks,” I say. “Goodbye.”

She brightens up, waves, and then skips down the street and out of sight. But I still see a sadness in her eye as she does that.

I get so worked up in my thoughts about Molly and who and what she might be that I forget about my shed for a while, and when Rhoda finds me in the alley I’m still staring up at the sky, my heart hurting.

Why didn’t Molly transform when I did? Was it not safe for her yet? Will there be other waves of dragons? Or was it arbitrary and a one time thing?

She didn’t really look like a girl to me until she said her name, but I didn’t want to make any assumptions even then. Ever since I’ve met Chapman and come out to myself, I’ve been working hard to be good about that.

I think Molly is around 12 years old. Maybe give or take a couple of years. It’s hard to say. Maybe she’s lucky and on hormone blockers. Maybe puberty is being kind to her. Or maybe it’s not, and I’m reading her wrong.

But I recognized that look on her face because I saw it in the mirror for the past fifty years.

And she wants to be like me.

She already is.

“Hey, Meghan,” Rhoda says, holding my purse against her with her right arm, cane steadying her in left hand. “Are you OK?”

“No,” I say. “No.”

“Want to come over to my place to talk?” she asks.

“Yes. Thanks.”

“Ooh, a new word! I like it.”

“Thanks.”

—

I still have shedding to do, but now that I’m not in the middle of it I can ignore the urge for a while. I’m probably going to be spending a lot of the night working on it, still, though.

Rhoda and I have been talking for a while, enjoying her tea. I’m not drinking it, though, because I don’t want to make a mess in her apartment. I’m just tasting the air occasionally to get a whiff of it, mixed in with the other odors and aromas of Rhoda and her home. If I aim my head right, I get mostly tea, and I do love it.

She gets fancy, loose leaf teas from a shop on the edge of my territory, and I decide I need to visit it someday. Just to stick my head in the door, lick the air, and smile at the owner. I’ll even pay for the privilege, if I can.

Anyway, mostly I’ve been filling Rhoda in on the events of the past two days, and she’s been listening and nodding, only occasionally interjecting or asking a question.

It’s such a comfortable relief to me to be able to think about what I want to say and actually say it, and not be rushed by a conversation. It still takes longer than I’d like, but I start to lose track of time and forget about it, falling into my routine of communication.

This.

This is what I want my life to be like. To be myself in a quiet place with someone who is also just there.

I do wonder a little if Rhoda is being herself, or if she’s going out of her way to accommodate me. But the few times I’ve tried to pay her back for all she does for me, or to find out how, she’s told me, “Let me worry about me. I’ll be OK.” There isn’t much good in pushing, then.

However, when I get to talking about Molly, she has a story to share, so I listen.

“Just before my son died, he once told me something,” Rhoda says to me. “His best friend was a trans boy. A teenager just like him. And Jacob just one day says to me out of the blue, like he always did about whatever he was thinking about. He says, ‘Toby told me the first couple years of transition are the hardest.’ And then he went back to doing his homework and didn’t say anything else that night.”

I watch her look up at the corner of the ceiling. I’m sure she’s composing more words, and even if she isn’t she’s not looking for a response from me, yet.

“I always wondered what was going through Jacob’s head when he shared that. The phrase sounded to me like a piece of wisdom passed around from trans person to trans person. Something they told each other to help get through what they need to do. And I don’t see how it couldn’t be,” she continues eventually. “You’re a special case, Meghan, but I imagine it’s going to be similar for you. Things will get easier for you. They have to. But they didn’t for Jacob, and I don’t know why he left. I know that being autistic in this world can be so hard. Especially for a Black boy like him. But after he said that to me, I’ve always got to wonder, you know?”

Then she looks at me. And I still don’t feel like I should say anything.

I don’t smile. I just make sure my eye is pointed at her.

I’m right eye dominant, I think. I keep an eye out for danger with it more often. But it always feels like my left eye is my friendly one, so that’s the one facing her.

“I think,” Rhoda says. “I think, for Molly’s sake, if you are the center of this thing you call the dracomorphosis, you should figure out why and how. I think you know that.”

“Yes,” I say. 

I remember when she first mentioned her son, it sounded like he had died. But I hadn’t asked, and she had offered no indication how or why. I let the thought enter my head, I cataloged it for later, and had focused on what she wanted to talk about after that. She hadn’t even said his name.

So, tonight, to learn his name and that – I’m pretty sure I heard right – that he may have died from suicide. And that she wonders if he was trans, too.

It’s a lot.

“Yes,” I say again.

“Even if you’re an Artist, Meg. I want you to do this. I don’t know how you can. I don’t know if it’s even wise. But if you can give Molly anything that my son Jacob might have missed out on, I want you to do it. Please.”

I look down at my tablet and knuckle out a couple words, “I’ve already vowed to.”

“Good.”

After a little bit more silence, I dare to ask, “Is this why you friend me?”

She just shrugs and shakes her head. Not a tear on her face. And I think she’s trying to will them to come from the looks of it.

—

I’m on my roof again, staring up at the moon.

It’s a noticeable sliver high in the sky. It’s just strong enough to illuminate the high wispy clouds that are coming in and covering the whole sky, creating a cathedral of light and vapor. But it’s not quite as spectacular as I’ve seen it when near full.

This is my favorite kind of nighttime sky. You hardly get to see any stars anymore, especially from the middle of a city. So, moon illuminated clouds will do.

I used to daydream about flying up into the clouds and maybe kissing the moon, as if it was that close.

Now I’m wondering what moon rocks would do for my skin and scales.

And I want to talk to the moon. But I’m doing it in my head.

I remember Kimberly saying something about the neo-pagan belief that on a new moon you should wish for things to come to you, so that the moon will bring them as it waxes to full. And I know I missed that by a few nights.

I wonder if she wished for the ability to be a were-poodle that night. Or if she was joking for some of that, or just trying something on to see if it fit.

Thinking about spirituality, I find myself struck with an idea, a visualization.

If the Earth were a giant dragon, I’d like to think of the moon and the sun as her eyes, put there, up in the sky, to watch over us.

It’s a silly little myth I’ve just made up, but it feels special to me.

So, I ask the Earth, through the moon that is smiling at me, if maybe she could help me figure this all out.

What should I prepare for, if Säure’s people come for us again?

What should I look for to unravel the puzzle of the dracomorphosis?

Why am I supposedly the center of it?

Does that give me some sort of responsibility?

And then my tablet buzzes.

Rhoda has sent me a personal SMS, not in our group. It’s way past her stated bedtime.

“Don’t root out the mole,” she says. “Focus on community. Make it so strong the mole won’t matter. If the mole slips up, don’t acknowledge it. Feed them bullshit instead. But until then, don’t worry at it. Don’t seek them out.”

That seems like counterintuitive advice, until I remember what was done with Alan Turing’s discoveries. So, after a moment's consideration, I reply with, “OK. Thank you.”

“I’ll give you a paper with advice for direct action on it,” Rhoda sends back. “Best practices. Security. That kind of shit.”

“I know tumblr post. Can find myself,” I reply.

“No. Take it from me,” she responds. “It will seem more legit to the others. Caleb will get it, and Tannis’ girlfriend, probably. Maybe a couple of the dragons. But the rest will need that extra push to calm the fuck down.”

“Yes. Got it. Thank you so much.”

“I wish I could help you shed. That looks awful.”

“Please sleep,” I send her, with three different colored heart emojis.

“Meh,” she shoots back. “I will when you do.”

“Going to sleep now,” I reply.

“Good.”

If somehow, by some miracle, I manage to grant Molly her wish, or if the Earth just does it because I asked nicely, what will her parents do?

Another thought occurs to me, because I’m thinking about trans stuff as much as anything.

If I was human and I’d reached out and taken my transition by the horns back in 2015 when it had first occurred to me that I could seriously do it, and gotten my hormones and surgery funded by Medicaid. Would it be like this, too?

Would I hurt so much for my peers who, for one reason or another, didn’t have that chance?

Would I even be able to help them?

How would they be feeling about it all?

[jerzwriter]

Why don't you write more diverse characters?

And also:

Also might get hate for this but your Casey and Jessica pairing gives me "when straight girls say they wish they are gay so they don't have to deal with boys". I'm aware you're queer yourself and there's no one way to be queer but just wanting to let you know, from the perspective of a gay person myself.

You're welcome to disagree, delete this or so on but I just want to offer my two cents if that's still something I can do.

Nonny,

Let's see: Wake the Dead: My MC is Latina. I have a whole HC on how she tries to connect to her culture despite most of it being stolen from her due to their circumstances. It has been addressed in asks, etc., but I have not written it completely because of time. I wrote an extensive backstory on Eli's family; his parents are canonically black/white, and his brother (like him) is biracial. Crimes of Passion: My MC is Latina and demiro. I haven't addressed the latter as much as I want to, partially because I don't relish the inevitable feedback. You know, where the fandom that demands diversity then tears down any creator who attempts to write them? So, 99% of creators have decided to only want to write what they know? Yeah, that.

Open Heart: Casey is white because that's the sprite I used in canon, and you know what? There's nothing wrong with that. Her husband is bi-racial. Their 3 children are biracial. His mother (an OC) is black, his brother (an OC) is biracial and bisexual, oh, Casey's bisexual too, and I HC that their youngest daughter is queer, but I have not written much about their adult daughters.

So, yeah, while I don't owe you an explanation, I needed to point out how wrong you are. Saying there is no diversity among my characters is a bit of a stretch unless you want to say that Latino, black, biracial, and queer people aren't diverse. I hope that's not what you're saying.

As to Casey and Jess, you're entitled to your opinion, of course, but the typically straight girls who wish they were gay so they don't have to deal with boys don't date or fall in love with girls. At least not the ones I have known. They certainly don't fuck them. So, there's that. Have I written smut for J/C? No. But I haven't written much smut at all recently. I just have not been interested in doing so.

So I am bi, and my bi character isn't bi enough for you - BUT why do I suspect that you're one of the people who bitch about the lack of queer characters in the fandom, then sit perched and ready to attack when someone tries and doesn't do it "right." I can see how that really encourages people to branch out and write more diversity. Oh, that's sarcasm.

If my stuff isn't your cup of tea - that's fine. It's allowed. Don't follow/read and find another creator who can provide you with what you desire. That's sort of how it's supposed to work.

PS... are you the same anon who said I don't support queer creators? If so, babe, you're going to have to try harder. Don't accuse me of things that are so easily verifiably wrong.

[mochegato]

Don’t Let Me Down

Marinette didn’t need Klarion’s help, no matter how hard he tried to convince her otherwise.  She had a team behind her, and they may not be the miraculous team, as Klarion took great pleasure in pointing out, but they could still help, would still help, with miraculous matters.  Not that she even needed them or planned to bother them with this.  It would be an easy mission.  It wasn’t even a mission, really.  It was more like an excursion, a jaunty little stroll through the ruins of a sacred temple currently being temporarily inhabited by low level thieves.

As long as she got the stolen miraculous quickly, it would be easy.  In and out. The thieves wouldn’t even know they’d been infiltrated before she was gone with the miraculous.  By all accounts… well, Klarion’s account, they were such low-level thieves, they barely warranted the name, though she seriously doubted she and he had the same threshold for the term.  They wouldn’t know to have a decent guard up and couldn’t defend themselves if they did.  They didn’t even know what they had; they’d just lucked into stealing the right thing in the right place at the right time.

But again, that relied on Klarion telling the truth, which was a losing bet.  Klarion didn’t always lie.  If it was to his advantage, he would use the truth.  But if there was a choice between lying and telling the truth, all else being equal, he would definitely choose to lie.  Ideally, she’d be able to take a day to investigate and plan, verify Klarion’s info, or not, and plan accordingly.

However, if the thieves figured out what they had before she could recover the miraculous, things would get exponentially worse the longer they waited.  She’d seen how bad things could get when someone who shouldn’t have a miraculous got it, even those who weren’t raging megalomaniacs bent on rewriting the very fabric of reality.  She wasn’t about to risk it again.  Not if she could just jump in quickly and stop it.  So she had to take Klarion’s word at face value and hope she had good enough backup to cover her if she was wrong.

A loud groan reverberated through the entry way to Young Justice headquarters as the realization set in.  She slammed the door behind her.  She was going to have to jump in and create a plan on the fly, the very thing she’d been unsuccessfully begging her teammates to stop doing since she started. It always worked out for them, and to be fair, that had been her approach throughout almost her entire time fighting against Shadow Moth, but when she could plan, she did.  Now it was her choice, her mission, and she was choosing the seat of your pants strategy as well.  The irony was not appreciated.

The only thing she had time to plan was who would go with her, well… no, that wasn’t exactly true.  The choice wasn’t so much who she got to ask so much as if she was going to ask, because the who was decided for her already.  The whole team wasn’t needed for Young Justice’s latest mission so two of them had stayed home.  While Kon wouldn’t be her first choice, he would be perfect to watch her back.  Because while he may not trust her, she trusted him. And maybe while they were doing it, he would realize that she was competent, that she was a good hero too, just as good as the rest of the team.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like her, she knew that with absolute certainty.  When they weren’t on a mission, they got along frighteningly well.  Well enough that she occasionally thought it might be more, or maybe it was just that she hoped that’s what his smiles and casual touches meant.  She loved spending time with him and they did, a lot.

And it wasn’t just her prompting them spending time together.  He’d seek her out as often as she sought him out.  He would drop down next to her while she was designing and just hang out as she worked or he’d invite her to a gaming competition against him or he’d ask her to show him how to bake something she’d mentioned liking.  Despite Tim being like the big brother she never wanted, well, she had wanted one, just a less annoying one; it was Kon who could talk her through her anxiety spirals.  Everyone would try, with varying degrees of success, but it was Kon who succeeded.

It was just in the field that he shut her down, held her back, watched over her like a disappointed mentor, questioned her every move. And she couldn’t even blame it on distrust of new team members because he hadn’t started like that.  When she’d first joined, he’d been excited to work with her.  It wasn’t until she messed up that he started doubting her.  She’d rushed in, Tim had followed her, and they’d both gotten hurt. They’d recovered the item, thwarted the villains, but Tim had been in the infirmary for weeks.  And that was the ultimate transgression for Kon; anything that hurt Tim.

But right at the current moment in time, she needed him. She needed him to put that all behind them and have a little faith.  She needed to go and there was no way Kon would let her go on her own.  He wouldn’t let her down.  He wouldn’t like it, he would question every decision, he’d probably try to take over, but he wouldn’t say no.

><><><><><><><><>< 

“No.”

Marinette blinked at him.  “What?”

“No,” Kon repeated with a curt shake of his head.  “That’s crazy.”

Marinette stared at him dumbfounded.  The possibility of him saying no had honestly never occurred to her.  They’d done more dangerous things in the past, with less information, and he hadn’t questioned it.  But this? This he questioned?  This he found issue with?  He’d blindly follow after Tim or Bart or Cassie, but not inconvenience himself for her?  This wasn’t even half as crazy as most of Tim’s plans, if you could even call them that. And they always marched right in, no looking back.  No questions.  “I kind of thought crazy was our business,” Marinette clipped back.

Kon narrowed his eyes at her.  “Cute.  Funny. I’ll let Bart know you’re stealing his lines.  We,” he motioned harshly between the two of them, “don’t do crazy.  We do smart.  We do planned.  We do strategy.”

Marinette stared at him again.  The massive inaccuracy of the statement stealing her words and ability to process thoughts.  She finally shook her head to restart her thoughts again and glowered at him.  “When? When have we ever done that.  I beg you guys for a plan, but you just jump in. I follow.  I help.  Despite not agreeing with it, I do it.  Now that I want jump in, you say no?”

“It is not worth the risk.  We never go in without a plan unless we have no other option,” he insisted firmly.

Marinette scoffed.  “Right.  Unless you want to piss off Lex, or unless you want to prove a point, or unless Tim has some stupid idea, or unless one of you guys gets bored,” she growled, her voice getting louder and more aggravated with each word.  “Then you’re more than willing to go along.”

“’Willing’ is pretty fucking generous,” he grunted. He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his puffed-out chest, easing into leader mode and making it perfectly clear he was not inviting argument on this.

“It really isn’t,” she argued, narrowing her eyes right back at him.  “Regardless, you do it.  You do whatever Tim asks.  Without a plan.”

He groaned; his arms thrown out and head tossed back in frustration.  “Okay, fine. No, we don’t always have a plan, but we always have the team, which we don’t have now until they get back.”

“You and Tim go out on your own all the time!” she shouted indignantly.

“That’s not… that’s… that’s different,” he sputtered. He realized he’d said the wrong thing instantly when her heart rate plummeted.  He didn’t even have to look at her expression to know what he was going to see and he scrambled to find the words to fix it, to wipe that hurt look off her face.  “Tim and I have been… it’s complicated,” he huffed harshly and glared at the wall, consciously forcing his eyes not to switch to laser vision.

He waited to speak until he was calm enough to not have to focus on accidentally blowing holes in things.  This was all going wrong, and he needed to get it back on track.  “But that has nothing to do with this,” he finally continued calmly.  “This is about this mission.  Not you.” He turned his eyes to her, hoping his heartfelt sincerity shone through his eyes.  “You’re relying on information from Klarion.  Klarion!  Any time Klarion is involved, we need caution.  You know that.  We need to ask questions.  Like why isn’t he getting it himself?  Why didn’t he get one of his lackeys to get it?  He didn’t come to you purely out of the goodness of his heart.”

She looked away to allow herself to calm down to Kon’s level, taking several deep breaths and holding them for a few seconds until her heart rate had slowed.  If he was going to give her a chance to discuss this rationally, she was going to take it.  It was the only way she was going to get him on her side, and she really did need someone on her side.  He wasn’t wrong about Klarion, which was the entire reason she was here asking him for help in the first place.

When she looked back, her eyes had lost their hardness. “I know this could be dangerous and it would be better to plan.  I know I can’t trust Klarion.  I’m not stupid, Kon, no matter what you think of me.”  He made a noise, but she continued before he could vocalize his agreement.  “I’ve thought through those questions too.  He can’t get it because they’re holed up on holy land, land that blocks him and his powers. And he didn’t use one of his lackeys because he doesn’t want them to try to use the power.  He knows I won’t.  I know he isn’t doing it because he wants me to have it, he just doesn’t want them to have it more, and he thinks he can easily take it from me.  But, he’s wrong.

“But it doesn’t matter.  None of it matters.  Because he’s right.  I need to do it.  I don’t have time to wait.  If I don’t act now, I run the risk, the very strong risk, that they could unleash the miraculous.  If that happens…” her eyes grew wide and haunted contemplating the possibilities, remembering history.  She shook her head and looked back at him.  “I can’t wait. I have to go now.”

She took a step closer until she was close enough he could have felt her body heat even without his enhanced senses.  Her eyes were wide and earnest, their brilliant blue drawing him in.  “But you’re right, it would be better with someone watching my back, someone I can trust. That’s why I came to you.  It would be better with you.  I need you.  I want to do this with you.  There’s nobody I trust more.  And I need you to trust me that I need to move now.”

Kon almost gave in, almost got lost in her eyes. Her words struck through him, melting his resolve until it had almost disappeared.  But he wouldn’t let it.  He couldn’t.  “No.”

“No…” Marinette repeated cautiously, her voice tight, teetering on the brink of something.

“No.  We need more information before we do something,” he insisted again.  “Or just not do anything at all.  We don’t have to do anything,” he offered, his voice raising in hopeful tones.

She pursed her lips and slammed a cool façade in place. “You’re right.  We…” she motioned between them as she took a purposeful step back, establishing a visible distance between them, “… don’t need to do anything.  You don’t need to do anything.  This isn’t your problem.  It’s mine.”

Kon flinched at the tone of her voice.  The previously soft, enticing tones were gone, replaced with a sharp, coldness with which he was completely unfamiliar.  Worse were her eyes.  Where they’d drawn him in mere moments before, they now shut him out, left out in the cold… alone.  “Mari, that isn’t…” he let out a long groan and ran his hand through his hair a few times in quick, erratic movements.  “That’s not what I meant.  I meant we don’t have to act now.  We can wait until we have more information.  We can wait for the rest of the team.”

“Right.”  She nodded curtly but her eyes never softened.  Kon tried to search them, tried to find his way back in, but she turned away before he could, moving with steady, determined steps toward her room.

“Mari…” he called weakly after her, desperation edging into his voice.  He reached for her, despite her being too far away reach.  “Just let me check when the team will be back, and we can reassess.”

“Do whatever you want, Superboy,” she snapped over her shoulder.  

The detached, cold epithet stung.  She hadn’t called him ‘Superboy’ outside of the field since shortly after they first met.  His hand dropped and a deep sigh broke through when she turned the corner.  “Damn it,” he swore, kicking the wall in frustration, immediately cringing at the hole he put through the brick wall.  Tim was going to kill him.  Although if Marinette didn’t forgive him for his hesitance, he might just invite Tim’s wrath.

He refused to back off though.  He wasn’t wrong.  Dealings with Klarion never ended well.  They always had to be on heightened alert when Klarion was involved. That went doubly so since Marinette had joined the team.  Klarion had a disturbingly intense interest in her as another magic user.  And now he was seeking her out for secret missions, a fact which disturbed Kon on more levels and to a greater depth than he cared to examine.

They needed more information and more people before they even thought about engaging with Klarion.  If he moved fast enough, he might just be able to get everything ready by the time the rest of the team got back, and Marinette calmed down. However, he was going to disable all the vehicles before that just in case Marinette decided to go ahead without him, which was the absolute last thing he wanted to happen.

><><><><><><><><>< 

At the very least, she could state with all sincerity that she had been right about everything.  Klarion had not lied, for once.  The thieves were utterly unprepared for someone to come for their haul. They had set up no defenses other than a guard dog who was easily distracted and loved playing with kwami, while they napped in a separate part of the temple.  She’d met purse snatchers who were better prepared.  They never even knew she had been there before she was out.  It was a quick in and out.

It was after the out part that proved she had also been absolutely correct that she could not trust Klarion.  He’d waited until she passed through the boundaries of the temple to attack.  That had been her miscalculation, not that he would attack, that she’d anticipated, it’s why the ‘Marinette’ that exited the temple appeared to be wearing the Ladybug miraculous, not the Horse, Fox, and Turtle miraculous the real Marinette wore.

No, the miscalculation was that without the real her there to deflect the magical energy pulse, the only place for it to go was straight through ‘her’ and into the walls of the temple, behind which she had taken refuge so she could watch from an, apparently not so safe, distance.

The scream of frustration Klarion let out at the realization he had been tricked had almost made her current situation worth it… almost.  Because her current situation was underneath potentially a few tons of rubble with only the green glow of her shelter providing light and protection, and without her glasses which had been blown off her face and currently were somewhere in the rubble.

She looked around again, gently prodding the boundaries of the shelter to see where the vulnerabilities were and how difficult it would be to move them by hand.  The answer was damned hard.  Without a view to the outside, she had no way of knowing how many meters of rubble was above her.  It could be just a thin layer with dust covering the spaces to make it look thicker, or it could be several meters.  It couldn’t be too many meters, there wasn’t enough wall to bury her too deeply, but the walls were heavy stone, and she was very small and easily crushed. Even with the miraculous suit protecting her, she could still be flattened if there was too much.  It wasn’t a risk she relished taking.

She looked around one more time before whimpering and pushing her bottom lip out in a childish pout.  She was going to need to ask for help.  It was one of the last things she wanted to do; admit that this mission she’d refused help on had defeated her, that she couldn’t do this simple task on her own, that she needed help.  But the truth was, she did.  She would just have to withstand the embarrassment.  They’d tease her, especially Tim, for a few weeks, but it was that or specifically ask Kon for his help… again.  And that was the absolute last thing she wanted to do, other than die.

She took a breath and let it out in a harsh exhale before tapping her com.  “Young Justice, come in.”  She waited a few minutes before trying again with the same results.  She wasn’t concerned until she’d pulled out the com and saw the distinct lack of a power light on the internal portion.  Ice flooded her veins.  The com was broken.  She had no way to contact her team.

She took a breath, held it for a count of four and let it out slowly.  She needed to think.  She couldn’t dig herself out without bringing down the shield and without knowing what was above her, that was a no go.  She couldn’t send the kwami out for help without knowing if Klarion was still around. She couldn’t very well just start screaming for help either.  The thieves might not be competent, but that didn’t mean they weren’t dangerous.  With her weakened, she would be at their mercy.

She was running out of options.  In fact, with Jon too young to take on Klarion and Clark off world, she only had one.  One extremely undesirable option; Kon.  It was going to prove everything he thought about her correct, and maybe it was, maybe she was as incompetent as he thought, because she shouldn’t be in this situation.  She should have foreseen it and avoided it.  She should be better than this.

She lowered her eyes until she closed them and braced herself for the disappointed look and the reproachful lecture.  “Kon,” she said weakly but clearly.  “Kon, I need your help.”  She eased onto the ground, bringing her knees up to her chest as she waited.  The time ticked away, how much, she wasn’t sure, but the way her butt was now aching, it must have been a while, long enough for Kon to have gotten to her.

She scrunched her brow.  “Kon?” she tried again, significantly louder this time.  Something wasn’t right.  She shouldn’t need to be louder.  She’d seen him hear someone further away and deeper than she could have possibly been.  “Kon, I need you… please,” she added weakly, but just as loudly, concern starting to edge into her tone.

This time, as the moments ticked away, she paid far closer attention.  Every shift in the stone matrix around her drew her attention with a snap of her head until her neck was strained from the movements.  He still wasn’t answering.  He still wasn’t there.  He could hear her in his sleep.  Where was he! He was supposed to be her friend. At the very least, they were teammates! Where was he?

Was he really so angry with her, he was willing to just let her sit here, alone, buried alive.  Until she what?  Apologized? Begged?  Quit?  She didn’t know.  What she did know was fuck that.  “Kon!” she yelled.  “Kon, get your super annoying ass here now.  I’m running out of air asshole.”

She glared at the roof of her protective bubble waiting for his cocky, self-satisfied smile to appear with some asinine comment about her needing him.  She huffed in frustration and dropped to the floor of her bubble, arms crossed over her chest, every muscle in her body strained until they were ready to snap at the first sign of a super fucker.

But again, the time ticked away with no sign of salvation. By the time her butt started to hurt again, her anger had dissipated replaced by dejection.  He wasn’t coming. It didn’t make sense.  Kon wasn’t vindictive like that.  He could want her dead and still wouldn’t just let her suffocate.  Something else had to be going on but it was getting harder to think clearly, figure out why.  She was starting to get panicked and lightheaded, an absolutely terrible combination.

“Kon,” she tried again, more earnest, pleading.  “I need you right now and I need you to hurry up. I’m running out of air, Kon.  I’m out of time.  I’m sorry, okay?  I’m sorry. Please.”

Tears started flowing down her cheeks.  He wasn’t coming.  It was the first time he’d let her down.  The first time she had needed him, and he wasn’t by her side.  She always thought he would be.  It never occurred to her that he might not be.  In every eventuality, in every possible future she saw, he’d always been there, one way or another.  But he wasn’t.

She swallowed thickly and wiped away her tears. It was up to her.  She was going to have to save herself.  It wasn’t the first time.  It wouldn’t be the last.  She breathed in for a count of four and exhaled for a count of five, immediately calming after her familiar routine.  Her only hope now was that the rubble ceiling wasn’t too thick, and that it would have found some kind of equilibrium so when she lowered the shield it wouldn’t immediately fall on her.

She went through her breathing routine again and nodded to herself.  It was time. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself before she called off the shelter.  She kept her eyes scrunched for a few moments before opening one eye to look around her. A chuckle burst from her, but she immediately covered her mouth.  She was okay. The matrix had held.  The first part was done.  Now she just needed to dig out without brining the matrix down on herself in the process.

The sound of another voice almost made her jump into the matrix roof.  “Master,” Wayzz greeted her.  “This seems like a less than optimal situation.”

Marinette grinned.  “Wayzz!  I’m so glad to see you.  Can you phase through the top and tell me how thick the rubble is?”

“Of course, Master,” he agreed readily.

“Remember not to touch anything.  Phase through,” she reminded him, anxiety bleeding through.

“Any modifications may cause the tentative equilibrium to shift and collapse,” he noted, nodding his head in understanding.

“Exactly!  Thank you so much, Wayzz.  I really…” before she could finish a creaking sounded on the other side of the matrix. Marinette turned warily toward the sound, each millisecond feeling like a century until time sped up to superspeed and the matrix collapsed faster than she could register.  She barely had time to cover her head before she was covered.

She kept her eyes closed at first, trying to register any clues she could on her situation.  What did the air taste like?  Were there any sounds she could identify?  Could she hear the outside?  She tried to feel if there were areas of her body where the stones were heavier, but it was all heavy.  It weighed her down, pinning her between the layers until she couldn’t move her legs or chest.  Even her head was wedged stuck fast in its place.  The only part that seemed to have some freedom was her left arm.  The suit was keeping most of the weight at bay, but the pressure was slowly becoming overwhelming, driving all rational thought from her head.  She was losing feeling in her chest.  She had already lost feeling in her left leg.

She forced her eyes open despite every nerve in her body fighting for her to keep them clamped closed.  It was as dark as she expected.  She almost succumbed to her body’s urges and closed them again but just before they fluttered shut, she saw a pinhole of light.  It wasn’t too far away, maybe a meter or a meter and a half. If she pushed hard enough, she might be able to reach it.

She shifted to reach for it and immediately let out a scream of pain as the matrix shifted again and a large rock slipped onto her arm. The light started to become fuzzy until she wasn’t sure if she had imagined the whole thing, everything took on a dreamlike, blurry quality.  She couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer.  She was going to die.  Alone. “I, Marinette Dupain Cheng, pass guardians… pass guardiansh…ip t…” she murmured as she lost consciousness, missing the pinpoint of light bursting into bright sunlight.

><><><><><><><><>< 

The light was blinding.  Even with her eyes closed, it felt like everything was too bright. Going back to sleep seemed so much more appealing than enduring that damned light.  But before she could drift back to the peaceful oblivion, a sound brought her back to the light; a voice, deep and enticing, drawing her to it, making the harsh light transform into an embracing and warm glow.

“I know you’re awake, I can hear the change in your heart rate.  Can you open up those beautiful eyes for me… please?” the voice urged her gently.  “I miss your eyes.  You have the most enchanting eyes, I’m a bit lost without them to follow.  Come on, Starlight, open them for me.”  She knew that voice.  She’d heard that voice before, a lot.  But the voice didn’t sound right.  This voice was tight and sharp.  It should be lighter, more teasing.  It should be playful not pained.

She had opened her eyes before she even registered the impulse, wincing from the light.  Kon was looking up at her from a seat next to her bed, his grin widening with each passing moment until it was so wide and bright it almost made her have to close her eyes again.  “There they are,” he cooed.  He picked up her hand with a delicate reverence and gently ran his thumb over her knuckles bringing her hand close to her face as though the proximity comforted him. “Welcome back.”

She blinked a few times to clear her vision.  “Kon?” she mumbled; her voice gruff with disuse. She had to be dreaming.  Maybe she was dead.  She looked around sloppily, her head dropping to the side.  But she was in a hospital.  She was pretty sure neither her Heaven nor Hell would take place in a hospital.  So, she wasn’t dead… probably.

“Yeah, Starlight.  I’m here.  You’re safe,” he assured her, scooching closer to her so he could pull her hand to his lips without straining it, but redirected at the last moment to his chest.

She bobbed her head back to face him, letting her unsteady head fall back to her pillow.  His words didn’t make sense.  None of it made sense.  When did he get there?  When did she? “What are you doing here?” she uttered fuzzily.

“Is that any way to speak to your savior?” he joked, but the tension underlying it and his tightening grip on her hand betrayed his worry.

Marinette pulled her hand back and furrowed her brows as she shook her head slowly.  That wasn’t right.  That wasn’t what she remembered.  She remembered trying to dig herself out from being buried alive.  She remembered being alone.  She remembered being abandoned.  “No.  You weren’t there.  You left me.”

His eyes flashed with pain.  “Mari…”

“No.  I called you.,” she started slowly.  She shook her head faster as the memories flooded back to her.  “I called you and you didn't come.  I was stuck under that rubble and you just… you weren’t there. I needed you and you weren’t there.”

The pain that had flashed in his eyes before returned and settled in like it had taken residence in them.  He shook his head, moving closer to her again.  “No, that’s not true!  I was there.  I was the one that found you and brought you home.  I got there as quickly as I could.”

He bobbed his head down to catch her eyes, make sure she saw him, could see his sincerity, his regret.  “I just couldn’t find you.  There was some kind of barrier around you for a while.  I couldn’t hear you, your voice, your heartbeat, nothing!  Until finally the barrier fell or broke or something and I could finally hear you.  It was like a revelation.  I took off faster than I ever had before.  I moved faster than I’d ever moved before.”

He sat on the edge of the bed and hooked his finger under her chin, urging her to look up at him and delicately wiped her tears away with his thumbs, letting his hands rest on her jaw, cupping her face.  “I never abandoned you.  I would never abandon you,” he vowed fiercely.  “Mari, Starlight, you mean everything to me.  I love you.  I will never abandon you.”

She blinked, her brow pinching in confusion.  “You don’t even like me.”

“What?” he exclaimed, dropping his hands in surprise. “What do you… why would you… What?”

“You… no, that’s not the right word.  I can’t…” she motioned vaguely toward her head.  “I know you like me.”  She closed her eyes to focus on how to put what she was thinking into words, missing the way Kon relaxed slightly at her admission.  “I know you like me… off of the field.  But you don’t trust me.  You don’t…” she huffed in frustration as she searched for the right word, “… think I’m a good hero.  You don’t trust me to have your back.”

“That is categorically untrue!” he insisted indignantly.

She scoffed.  “You never want me in the field.  I screwed up once and Tim got hurt and since then, you haven’t trusted me on missions.”

“That is not what happened,” he groaned.

“It is,” she insisted.  This was something she knew.  This is something she’d thought about, brooded about, more nights than she cared to admit.  “You don’t want me on missions.  You watch me constantly in the field.  And it’s not a matter of watching over your teammates, because you don’t do that with anyone else.  Just me.  It’s just me you don’t have any faith in.”

“I don’t do that!” he objected, not quite yelling, but close.  He threw his hands out at her skeptically raised eyebrow.  “Fine!  Yes, I do. I try to keep you out of the field. I prefer it when you cover the coms from the base,” he admitted.  He stood up and started to pace the room in an attempt to work out his energy some way other than smashing something or lasering through the wall.

Instead of appreciating his confirmation, the admission cut through her like a blunt spoon.  His acknowledgement that he didn’t think she was skilled enough to be in the field, that she didn’t measure up in his eyes, hurt worse than the cave in.

“But it’s not because I have more faith in them than I do in you,” he continued without realizing her spiral.  “It’s not because I trust them more.  It’s not because I think they’re better.  It’s because I’m not as worried about them.”  He stalked back to Marinette’s side to continue but immediately stopped at seeing the devastated look in her eyes.  “Not because I think they’re better!” he clarified quickly, louder than he meant to.

“I know you’re an amazing hero.  Fuck, Marinette, I think you might be the best hero I’ve ever met.  The best I haven’t met.”  She scoffed and looked away petulantly, but Kon wouldn’t let her continue to think he didn’t realize how amazing she was.

He sat on the bed again and tried to crane his neck to catch her eye.  When she refused to look over, he kept his neck craned in the ridiculously uncomfortable position and continued speaking in a soft voice.  “You’re wrong you know.”  That got her attention.  She flicked her eyes over to him, but kept her face turned away.  “It wasn’t because Tim got hurt.  It was because you did.”  That finally got her to face back to him and he could finally settle his head into a more comfortable position.

“Because the idea of you getting hurt terrifies me in a way I’ve never felt before.  I watch you because I second guess every move, mine and everyone else’s, to see how it will affect you.  I’m not just watching what’s going on around me and calculating for myself, I’m doing it for you too.  I don’t think I realized until that very moment how I felt about you.”

He caressed her jaw, his fingers feather light against her skin, each touch like worshipful.  “I always want you out of the field because I’m afraid of what I would do if anything happened to you.  Because Tim is my best friend.  He’s like a brother.  But, if Tim miscalculated and got hurt, I’d be worried, I’d be frantic until he was okay. And if he wasn’t, I’d be devastated.” He cradled her head in his hands, letting his thumbs tenderly graze her cheeks.  “But if you got hurt… I’d destroy the world.  Not even kryptonite would be able to stop me.”

“Kon…” she started, unsure how to respond to that. Her eyes softened as they searched his, finding only awed reverence.

“I love you, Marinette.  I have since, God, I don’t even know how long.  I don’t even know when it happened, I just realized one day that the best part of my day was when you were there with me.  That I couldn’t stop thinking about you and every time I did, I’d smile like a damned fool and I didn’t care, I wanted to.  That making you laugh had somehow become my subconscious goal whenever I saw you.  

“I realized whenever you were sad or upset or hurt, it hurt me too and I would do whatever I had to in order to keep you safe, take every blow, handle every loss, face every evil if it meant you didn’t have to.  So, I tried to keep you safe, out of the danger zone, but I never meant to make you feel like I didn’t trust you.  I just… I needed you to be safe.”

She placed one hand on his wrist, keeping his hand on her cheek, with the other she gently brushed his bangs from his face, letting her fingers linger and fall ever so slowly, tracing the edges of his face until she wound it behind his head and pulled him closer to her.  Her eyes fluttered closed, attempting to keep the tears from overflowing, as she brought his forehead to hers.  A contented sigh escaped her lips when he leaned into the embrace.  She reveled in the feeling for a few moments before opening her eyes and gazing adoringly into his.  “That is… the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” she choked out through a half-suppressed sob.

Kon reared back like she’d punched him, but she kept her hold on his hand so he couldn’t go too far.  “What?”

“I can handle most of the same hits you can take, and I’m not vulnerable to kryptonite,” she pointed out wryly.  She pulled gently on his wrist to pull him back to her side and cupped his face with a gentle smile.  “You can’t wrap me in bubble wrap, Kon.  I’ll suffocate.”

He blinked a few times as he processed her words and tone, finally relaxing into her hand.  “What if I poke holes in it?” he asked with a tentatively teasing smirk.

Marinette grinned back for just a moment before quickly schooling her expression.  “No.  There’s no way to make bubble wrap flattering.”

“Uh huh, uh huh.  I see,” he nodded in mock solemnity and stroked his nonexistent beard.  “Yes, we can’t have the world’s next leading name in fashion looking unflattering.”

“Exactly!”  She met his eyes, allowing herself to get lost in them for a few moments before forcing herself to look away.  Her eyes darted back to his for just a moment but settled on her hand as she traced his hand, turning it over in hers to run her fingers over his and enjoying the softer texture of his fingers.  “I had my shield up,” she threw out.  Her eyes darted to him again so quickly her eyes were back on their intertwined hands before her mouth had closed.  

Kon jerked slightly at the non sequitur, mind racing to make sense of her words.  Emotionally? She had her emotional shields up? Did that mean she was taking them down for him?  Did that mean she shared his feelings?  “What?”

“Shelter,” she clarified.  “That’s why you couldn’t hear me.  I called on Shelter as soon as I got there.  My own personal little impenetrable, mobile fortress.”

He opened his mouth but snapped it shut.  Every time she spoke, she made less sense. “Why did you call it off?  You were safe!”

She chuckled at his gaping mouth.  “I was safe from the rubble, but I was suffocating.  I was so safe, I was dying from the inside,” she gave him a pointed look.

“Yeah, but instead you almost died from the outside!” he exclaimed.

“But I didn’t, because I let the shield down,” she pointed out with a slight smirk.

He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at her. “I don’t like this analogy.”

“Good.  Then it worked.”  Her grin was blinding and contagious.  Kon couldn’t stop himself from returning it no matter how hard he tried to keep his scowl. She smiled wider at his lost battle. After a few moments, her brow settled into a scowl.  “What I don’t like is someone trying to make decisions for me.  Someone letting their fears dictate my actions.”

Kon’s smile slowly dropped at her words turning grim. He nodded in understanding, eyes lowered in contrition.  “You’re right.  I fucked up. It wasn’t my place.  I shouldn’t have…” he sighed heavily.  “I’m so sorry.  I know you’re strong and powerful and talented.  I didn’t mean to try to control you.  I don’t think I realized what I was doing.”

His voice sounded so heavy and broken, her heart ached. Her hand was on his face, her thumb tracing his lower lip before she realized it had moved.  “But what I do like,” she whispered, “is you.”

His eyes jumped to hers, hope peeking through and lighting them up.  “Yeah?”

She nodded with a soft smile.  “Yeah,” she whispered.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he moved closer to her.  He paused for a moment, centimeters from her lips to give her a chance to object.  Instead, she wrapped her hand behind his neck to pull him to her, letting their lips finally touch in a soft, chaste kiss.  He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, his lips stretching into a wide, dazzling smile to match hers.  The kiss was short, but perfect.  It was a beginning, the start to many, many more.

“I’d hope so.  I’d hate to think you do that with people you don’t like,” he teased, breath hot against her lips.

Marinette rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh, but her lips quirked up into a playful smirk.  “You should see what I do with the people I love.”

Kon’s eyes lost their devilish glint suddenly becoming uncharacteristically serious.  “I would very much like to see that one day,” he declared.

Marinette’s breath caught in her chest.  She searched his eyes for any hint of teasing. Finding none, she licked her lips slowly.  “How about a sneak peek?” she asked before pulling him down for another, longer, more passionate kiss.

She pulled away suddenly.  “Kaalki!” she exclaimed.  Her eyes widened in fear.  “I left Kaalki in the ruins!”

She threw the blanket off and moved to get up, but Kon stopped her before she stood, his hand on her chest to hold her in place.  “Woah, slow down there, Starlight.  You just woke up.”

“I need to rescue Kaalki, Kon, and I need to get him before anyone else does!” she exclaimed, brushing his hand to the side.

He sighed heavily but nodded.  “Okay.  But you take it easy and let me do the heavy lifting until you’re fully recovered, please?”

She paused and looked back at him questioningly, a small smile emerging on her lips.  “You want to come with me?”

He smiled and shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world.  “Of course I do.  I won’t let you down again."  He kissed her quickly before extending his hand for her to take.  "Come on, let’s go.”

[random-thought-depository]

Just gonna do this like a band-aid: quick and rough so it's over with fast: Trump won.

Looks like Republicans are likely to control the next Congress too.

After having slept terribly last night because of election anxiety, I feel weirdly calmer now. At least now I know the outcome, we lost, they won, I know what to expect, and I can plan from there.

The smart guess was always that this was basically a coin toss, but in the last few days before the election it looked like things were looking up and I'd allowed myself cautious optimism. That made the disappointment of last night sharper.

The results really do look humiliating for Democrats, looks like Trump won the popular vote, though I guess that might change as all the votes get counted (not that this would concretely help us much).

In retrospect I think the fact that Harris's path to the top of the ticket was "do poorly in 2020 primaries, get picked as VP because Biden thought she was someone he could work with, become the obvious successor when Biden dropped out" might have been a huge red flag. Of Hillary Clinton, Joe Biden, and Kamala Harris, Biden had the most competitive primary, and I think one practical lesson for the Democrats from this might be the importance of having their candidate be selected by a really competitive primary. You should stress-test your Presidential candidates to verify that they're actually good at winning national elections before you put them at the top of the ticket!

I'm not super-optimistic about the "this big tent establishment-led don't spook the centrists triangulation approach isn't working, it got us an underwhelming victory with a once-in-a-century wind at our backs in 2020 and now this, the Dems should have been much less dismissive of the uncommitted movement and taken a much harder line on Israel, should have full-throatedly advocated for left-liberal economic policies instead of trying to get the country to swallow them on the down-low like trying to get a dog to swallow a pill by wrapping it in meat, should have aggressively attacked conservative institutional advantages by doing stuff like court-packing, etc., not just cause that's a morally superior set of positions but cause it'd be a better political strategy" take being anything but wishful thinking, but, I dunno, at this point part of me is thinking, yeah, maybe we might as well try that radical high-risk high-reward strategy next time cause the present approach clearly isn't working well. Then again, even if that would work I'm not optimistic about the Dems actually trying it instead of defaulting to their usual reflex of deciding they lost because they got too left-wing and moving right to chase the center-right vote. I dunno, I think we've basically just found ourselves living in the bad timeline again.

I really wouldn't want to be in Gaza, but I extra wouldn't want to be there after January 2025. I expect Trump will give Netanyahu a free hand to kill and kill and kill.

Oh, a rancid cherry on top: Trump is really old and if he dies or becomes incapacitated in office we'll get ... President J.D. Vance. Eeeeww. Shudder. That guy is such a creep. At least he's spectacularly uncharismatic so he'd be likely to lose in 2028 if he's the incumbent then and we still have competitive elections by then (at this point that cannot be taken for granted).

*Sigh.*

I fear we're in for a rough four years.

[opinated-user]

Oh yeah, Lily, you're not a white person. You're so native american.

......

You're so native american that you're not even claimed by the Nation, you're so native american you chose not to contact your Aunt who was actually claimed by the Nation and who could have helped you connect to that culture, you're so native american that you didn't even know what two spirit was until someone explained it to you, you're so native american that you burn sage, a practice many native people have spoke out against. you're so native american that your Avatar's skin is significantly darker than your actual skin tone in real life and is wearing a fucking. feather. on her ear, just to show how "Native" she is (and dont give me that Sylvanas Windrunner inspiration crap, we all know what you were doing) Youre so native american that the supposed native american "trinket" your grandfather left behind was just an unauthentic cheap pendant you could buy off of ebay that was designed by a coloniser. You're so native american that out of all of your siblings, you're the one who got the "native gene" because of "thick straight black hair," but oh wait! Apparently, Courtney is native too! She's just got internalised racism! You're just so. fucking. indigenous. that you think that if you were to die or go missing, you would be labelled as just another case of a Native Woman getting injustice, even though you yourself admited that you don't really face racism since you look white,to the point that you literally had to make yourself yellow by applying concealer in the worst possible way just so you look all nice and "exotic" for your predominantly white audience in that picture, but surely there is no way you're white Lily! You love minorities! Especially Black women who have definitely felt comfortable interacting with you, and you've never been at all fetishy with black female characters.

No but in all seriousness, if Lily wanted people to think she's secure in her "identity as a native woman", she wouldn't need to darken her avatars skin tone despite being much lighter in real life, she wouldn't need to play up how "native" she is, and if she really was native, then the "supposed dear pendant that her grandfather left behind for her as his last gift" WOULDN'T BE ON HER CHEST WHILE SHES LITERALLY STRIPPING SHIRTLESS ON STREAM

LIKE IF YOURE GONNA BROWNFACE AT LEAST VERIFY WHAT IS AND ISNT AUTHENTIC TO THAT CULTURE 😭

the thing is, to LO being "native/indigenous/Cherokee" is entirely about looking like a sexualized brown woman and having a shiny new shield from which she can scream about how everyone else is racist (for disagreeing with her). it has nothing to do with culture, community, tradition or actually nothing of what makes actual Native people proud in their heritage. it's entirely self serving and superficial. the worst thing may be that none of that is LO's original idea. those are just the regurgitated racist garbage that her mom was already spewing and LO just uncritically took it at face value, as a 31 grown woman. the only thing that LO might have added was stripping with a supposed "family heirloom".

[qlventingspace]

Rando anon, sorry, but I just got back into BL fandom. I heard about the poi incident that happened in april I think, and I thought things were okay since Build had a concert recently. If you dont mind, could you tell me what exactly is going on? Unless you were just venting about the past... thanks in advance!

hi human, if you don't mind I'm gonna turn this post into some of a rant, because I'm about to implode. Sorry, it's not because of you, but because I've had enough of people treating other people as some saint idols just because they're actors instead of treating them as FUCKING HUMAN BEINGS. And disclaimer, I am mentally tired. So tired.

(I'm gonna do bit of summary of everything, so if you don't have time skip to next brackets for what's happening now)

To all hell bent on laughing at us and 'proving us wrong': You think some pretty face is gonna make me forget my morals? We've been there, 7 months of hell, every minute of it. Cause when you love someone you WILL make sure you make a very informed decision if you'll continue or not and you WILL sacrifice the time to do it properly.

We turned every information upside down to analyse it properly and find what is the truth and what is fabrication, so my stance is very solid. I'm making an informed decision (unlike all the people that only come to me saying he's in wrong without any proofs, only shouting).

What you could've missed?

Perhaps you missed that it was Build who made himself scarce to the point his family didn't want to leave him alone for a minute in fear of what he might do to himself while Poi was trying to obsessively reach him, provoking him to speak to her, changing her narrative every 5 seconds, happily insulting people around, left and right, including Builds sister for being some lowly single mother because her husband passed away, INCLUDING religion (islam specifically) and sending death threads to fans. Which of their actions screams A Victim and which Abuser? I beg you use your brain for a bit.

Build is the one who waited for subpoena, since Poi was shouting she was at court (she wasn't). Build is the one who went to court with a folder thick with concrete and empirical evidence. BUILD is the one PROVEN INNOCENT BY A COURT.

And POI is the one who ADMITTED TO MAKING THINGS UP.

(now what's happening currently)

Every time Build tries to move on with his life, some low life (you can guess twice who) brings up unverified 'accusations' against him.

He said it himself, if you don't like him, just don't stay in a fandom. Just don't go around spreading more hate and misinformation about him.

He.just.wants.to.live.in.peace.

As I said in my convo with a hater under my latest post: Is leaking private photos okay when it's half naked man? Is leaking private chats okay if it's a man? There's several 'new' accounts spreading his private half naked photos that were taken without his consent or knowledge he's being photographed (taken by Poi). And now the account is spreading chats (not verified) where he badmouths his colleagues and company.

First of all, there is a fake translation of those chats, that is done by (wonder wonder) a completely new burner account (joined to twt this month I think). Secondly, Build only apologized for the chats leaked yesterday (was it noon?) in those he is complaining about unfair treatment he got from his former company (BOC).

Build never left anything for which he was truthfully responsible for go without an apology.

Why is he required to constantly apologize for the fact that HE COMPLAINED TO HIS FRIEND IN HIS PRIVATE CHAT ABOUT UNFAIR TREATMENT AT THE WORKPLACE?

I'm absolutely sure (sarcasm) that if all of your private chats got leaked now you would come out of it as absolute saints.

And then the account continued to publish thai chats with misleading captions, and fake translations, while the actual translations of those chats weren't that bad as the caption wants you to believe.

All in all it's just a normal person venting to his friends about his life and private matters.

Oh and did I tell you about that account threatening Build to leave the entertainment industry or they never stop?

As of today, guess who's again going to court because he's getting continuous harrassment? Build.

Because he's a victim, whose abuser is constantly attacking him and he has no other means to defend himself but the official jurisdiction.

And think what you want, but the lack of action from the company's side while he was under their care, unfair treatment, complicity in assuring he's gonna stay with Poi when he tried to seek a way out, throwing him under bus while he was under their management and also after, playing on both sides.....

I'll let you make up your mind. But there is too many things that just click together and for me: BOC as a company is complicit. In harrassment, in abuse. They are still working with and following Poi.

If you don't wanna see Build as victim, what about Barcode then? She harrassed him. What about Mile and Apo then? SHE HARRASSED THEM.

Yet the company is still working with her, because she has money and power and they have a sinking boat and planned projects.

I said what I said.

That cursed company will never see a damn penny from me ever again.

And someone on twitter said enlightening thing.

Why is it only now, only THIS company that has a problem with Build? While people from all his previous projects (actors, directors) are hyping him up and supporting him?

Build just wants to live his life. He is just a human being, as we all are. We sometimes do weird shit and bad shit and vent to our friends. But because he's public person he needs to be humiliated and treated like shit publicly while if it was you or me we'd just disapear for a week in our room and no repercussions would await us after?

Build is not an abuser. He is proven innocent BY COURT.

All he ever did was that he trusted the wrong people.

[chimerickat]

Chapter 2

When you caved in and agreed to help Mokuba with his plan, you never expected him to actually have a plan of action. You figured you would “help” for long enough for him to feel like the entire thing was pointless and then try to find another way to help his brother. 

You didn’t expect him to drag you to the campus Duel Monsters club.

“They all have a shared interest with my brother!” he’d said. 

Well, sure they did, and by that logic, you should go around meeting all the MBA candidates, too. 

“Don’t be ridiculous!” was the only response you received to that suggestion. 

In the end, you caved to Mokuba’s insane plan, and joined him in checking out the Duel Monsters club members. The club met up in one of the lecture halls on a weekly basis, and when you walked in with Mokuba, the two of you sat toward the back of the room. You watched as people noticed Mokuba Kaiba and then they began pointing him out. 

You leaned over to whisper to Mokuba, “Maybe I should have come alone. These people seem interested in you.”

“That’s how we weed out the groupies.” 

You frowned but gave him a nod. 

The meeting started with announcements and some information about some upcoming tournament. You looked down at the list of questions that Mokuba had given you. Could finding someone for Seto Kaiba really be so simple? 

Once the announcements ended, the social hour of dueling and comparing cards and discussing strategy began. You moved away from Mokuba and let him attract people. 

Before you had time to decide who to approach first, you found yourself approached by the leader of the club. At least, you assumed he was the leader since he had been doing the announcements. He held out his hand and welcomed you to the club. 

“Have you been playing the game long?” he asked. 

The truth came out before you had time to think. “Just a little while, but I’m not very good.” You left out the part where you had tried picking it up to attract the attention of a certain CEO. 

“How could that be true? I noticed you came in with Mokuba Kaiba.” 

You wanted to laugh, Mokuba knew how to play Duel Monsters, but didn’t love it like his brother. He had other games that he preferred. “I guess I’m just not smart enough for the game.” Or rich enough to really invest in the cards needed for an amazing deck. 

“Well some of our members enjoy teaching others. Let me know if you want me to introduce you to any of them.” 

His statement sounded like a goodbye, but as he turned away, you reached out and put a hand on his arm, stopping him. “Actually, I’d love to know, who’s the best player here?” 

“That would be me.” He winked. “But I’m not accepting students.” 

“Oh what a shame!” Well, he had the arrogance to go with it, but you would verify that statement with other members of the group. You wrote his name down in your notebook. Since you couldn’t assume Kaiba was into women, you might as well get some options from both genders. “Thanks for your time!” 

You stepped away from him, eyeing the rest of the club members. 

There was a girl that you couldn't help but notice. You weren't sure if your eyes gravitated toward her because she was beautiful or because of her outfit. Either way, you could see her standing next to Kaiba. 

And you hated the image. 

You recognized the ugly emotion that you were feeling. Envy. If you looked like that, Kaiba might notice you. But knowing that your feelings were shameful didn't stop you from deciding to avoid the girl. She was paying far too much attention to Mokuba anyway. (A little voice pointed out that she wasn't paying very much attention at all compared to most of the people here, but you firmly squashed that voice.)

Now the girl currently involved in a duel looked promising. Her hair was tied up, and she seemed to be ignoring anything beyond the cards in front of her. Kaiba could appreciate an attitude like that.

You approached the duel. It was easy to pretend to be interested in the game when you were trying to figure out if this girl was any good. You smiled at the other people watching the game, sizing them up. They might be contenders as well. 

Then Mokuba broke away from the group surrounding him and approached the girl you’d noticed earlier. Darn. He’d noticed her, too. He smiled, and she smiled back at him. 

You tried to refocus on the duel, but your eyes kept drifting Mokuba’s way. 

They were laughing! 

You looked around for someone else. Anyone else. An alternative to that badass Kaiba bait. You focused on a cute girl with bows in her hair. She was pretty. 

So you approached her with a smile, intent on introducing yourself, but as you got closer, you overheard her conversation. She was telling the girl next to her about her boyfriend. Well, a girl with a boyfriend… that was big nope. 

You retreated before getting her attention and turned back to the duel. It was almost over, and you felt like the serious girl might be your best bet so far. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Mokuba approach with his new friend. You turned toward him, avoiding eye contact with the girl next to him. 

Mokuba gestured to her, forcing you to look over. “This is Machiko!” 

“Nice to meet you!” She smiled, and you hated to admit that she was even prettier up close. 

You smiled back, but before you could say anything, Mokuba said, “I’ve invited her over to the mansion to check out the duel system that we’ve got.” 

You raised an eyebrow at Mokuba. Was he going to go after her himself? 

He caught your expression and shook his head. “You know, during that gaming party we’re throwing?” 

You’d play along, but you weren’t sure if he was really planning a party. “Oh, yeah. That.” You turned to Machiko with a smile. “You should totally come to that.” 

She pushed her long hair back over her shoulders. “I guess now that midterms are over it would be nice to get out.” She looked at you and then Mokuba. “I was just telling Mokuba that I’m in my first year here, and I haven’t had the chance to meet anyone yet.” 

You looked at her outfit. She looked like she’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine with her high heeled boots and belted sweater dress. Bangles chimed every time she moved, and her makeup looked professionally done. You would assume that she or her parents had serious money. “Where’d you go to school before Domino?” you asked. 

She waved a hand. “Oh, nowhere local, but Domino U is such a good school I was surprised I even got in.” 

You wanted to interrogate her more, but duel that you’d been watching ended in a victory for the girl. “Mokuba, you should invite them too,” you told him, nodding toward the girl specifically. 

He made a face, clearly second-guessing your opinion, and you glared at him. Then he rolled his eyes as if to say, fine, I’ll waste my time with her. “Yeah, absolutely.” 

Once Mokuba walked over to the others, Machiko moved closer to you. “Can we exchange numbers?” 

“Sure.” You got your phone out, surprised that she would want your number. Was this just a ploy to then get Mokuba’s number? 

The two of you exchanged each other’s numbers, giving you the chance to get her last name. You’d creep on her over the internet later. Then she surprised you by putting her phone away without asking for Mokuba’s number. 

She looked over to where Mokuba was talking with the two people who had been dueling. “Are you and Mokuba dating?” 

“Ugh, no.” The truth came out before you could really consider your answer. Then you thought about why she was asking. Could you let her go after Mokuba thus ruining any chance that she might catch Kaiba’s eye? 

“Oh, are you related then?” 

“No just friends.” You gave in to your better impulse. “He did recently start seeing someone though.” You studied her face for a reaction. “Just in case you were thinking about it.” 

She laughed. “I suppose it did sound like I was interested.” 

“You’re not?” 

“Not my type.” 

You didn’t believe her, but since she was a stranger, you let the subject drop. Besides, you had more digging to do. There had to be something that made her incompatible for Seto Kaiba. “Do I hear an accent?” 

She covered her mouth, surprised. “Maybe. I did spend part of my childhood abroad.” 

Oh. Well, that was no good. You would probably find a beautiful instagram with thousands of followers. She probably had lots of experience with different cultures and spoke multiple languages fluently. 

She was a nightmare. 

You didn’t have energy for socializing anymore. “Well, it was nice meeting you!” 

“Yes! I’ll text you.” 

You just smiled at her before turning away to grab Mokuba. Now that he had the perfect girl for his brother, surely the two of you could leave. Instead of crashing his conversation, you stopped short of the group and caught his eye. Once Mokuba was looking at you, you pointed your thumb toward the door. It was a silent, can we leave? 

He shook his head. Rude. 

So you ditched him. You didn’t need to stick around for the rest of his social act. The questions that he’d given you had been dumb anyway. He probably hadn’t even bothered asking Machiko a single one. 

He caught up to you soon after you left, which meant he must have noticed you leaving. “Party tonight!” he announced, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. 

“Is that when you told Machiko to come over?” 

“Not just her! I invited plenty of other people, too. Gotta give Seto some options, right?” 

“I guess…” you said. “Machiko is really pretty though.” 

“Jealous?”

“NO!” Your answer came out too quickly and was far too loud. You hadn’t meant to shout. You backpedaled. “I don’t have anything to be jealous about. She’s not in the running to be your best friend.” 

The arm wrapped around your shoulders squeezed you, pulling you in closer to Mokuba. “You’ll always be my favorite.” 

You leaned your head into his chest. “You too.” 

And then he had to ruin the moment. “Now time for a party!” 

You groaned. You knew you would end up attending the party, but that didn’t stop you from wanting to whine about it first. 

“Also, you’re part of my plan to get Seto there.”

You stopped walking. Your head twisted so you could glare at Mokuba. “No. Nope. Never going to work. No. Hard pass.” 

“It’s a perfect plan. Listen…” 

So you let Mokuba convince you that he had a great plan. Of course, Mokuba was able to convince anyone of anything. Knowing how he worked should make you immune, but it didn’t. 

And that was how you found yourself knocking on the door to Kaiba’s home office later in the evening. He called out for Mokuba to come in, and you assumed that applied to you too and opened the door. 

You leaned into the doorway, poking your head around the partially open door. “Hi, um, sorry to bother you. Uh…” 

He looked up at you, and you tried not to melt when you saw the glasses perched on his nose. Somehow those glasses were attractive on him. He arched an eyebrow. “Where’s Mokuba?” 

“He’s not here, and I… oh…” This was so uncomfortable. You felt like you were one word away from incomprehensible stuttering. “He said I could try out the demo, but I think I did something wrong. I tried calling and Mokuba isn’t answering. There’s smoke?” You wanted to run as you watched a scowl take over Kaiba’s face. “I’msosorry!” You resisted the urge to bow, but your hands found their way to your thighs. 

“Remind me why my brother allows you to roam around unsupervised?” 

His sharp question made you flinch. You weren’t a disobedient pet. He held up his hand, palm out as if to stop you from speaking. With his other hand, he pinched the bridge of his nose. His eyes shut for a moment. 

Then he removed his glasses and dropped them on the desk. “Fine.” He stood up. As he walked out of the room and down the hall, he didn’t even glance your way. Nobody made you feel small like he did, but as you followed him to the gaming room, you still found yourself studying him as discreetly as you could.

When he pushed open the doors to the gaming room and saw Mokuba with a small crowd gathered around the dueling station, he turned to shoot you the dirtiest glare. 

“I really am sorry,” you said. 

He turned to leave, but it was too late, Mokuba had spotted him and was coming over to physically grab his brother. “Seto! So glad you could make it. Meet my new friends from the Duel Monsters club…”

Mokuba pulled him away, relying on his brother’s desire to keep him happy. However, Kaiba was a ticking time bomb. He would tolerate Mokuba’s nonsense for only so long before losing patience. So Mokuba led him straight to Machiko to start off.

Machiko, for her part, seemed to panic. You watched with growing curiosity as Machiko’s eyes roamed around as if she were looking for an escape route. It was unexpected. The girl in the skintight dress with red lipstick and perfectly done hair seemed to want to get as far away from Kaiba as possible. 

In her heels, she was almost Kaiba’s height. 

They looked good together, but he barely looked her way. 

Then she was backing away from the Kaiba brothers. Mokuba seemed to try to keep her talking but she was shaking her head. Then Machiko beelined straight for you. 

She grabbed your arm and looked back over her shoulder at the Kaibas. “Was that what I think it was?” 

“A rare meeting with the great and powerful Seto Kaiba?” 

She just stared at you, and her stare told you that she was on to your bullshit. “Mokuba just introduced me as if we’ve been friends for years,” she drawls. “Years.” 

Mokuba must have gone over the top again. He clearly hadn’t heard a word you’d said earlier. “Interested?” 

She scoffed. “Still not my type. Rich men make terrible husbands.” 

“You know from experience? And husband?”

She just shrugged as if it should be obvious why she would make such a statement. 

You had to wonder how much of Machiko was real and how much was an act. You’d helped Mokuba creep on her prior to the party, and just like you expected, she had an Instagram full of beautiful travel shots. Her family had money. 

“So how many failed marriages have you had so far then?” 

She smiled at you. “Four, but who’s counting?” She giggled, and you couldn’t help but join her. 

Then you looked over at Kaiba and Mokuba. Kaiba’s patience seemed to be wearing thin. You could tell from the sneer on his face that he had either said something rude or was about to say something rude. Either way, he was going to storm out of the party within the next ten minutes. 

Machiko still seemed to want to talk, and you were pretty sure that you’d missed part of the conversation, but you excused yourself, pretending that you had to use the bathroom. Then you left the party. 

You didn’t have the nerve to go inside Kaiba’s office when he wasn’t around so you waited in the hallway outside the door. Sure enough, you didn’t have to wait long before he stormed down the hall. He paused to glare at you once he noticed your existence. “Your friends or Mokuba’s?”

“Neither.” It was the truth.

He scoffed, and then walked past you and into his office. He left the door open, and you took that as an invitation to join him. As you settled into one of Mokuba’s couches, you wondered if there was any way to ask Kaiba about those bags under his eyes. Was he unable to sleep or choosing not to sleep? Was it stress? He looked less unwashed today but his face still seemed a little zombie-like. 

Instead, you stole a book off of Kaiba’s bookshelf and settled into the couch to read. Mokuba would find you here easily enough once he’d ended the “party”.

[thessalian]

Thess vs MCM Comic Con, Day 1

Well, first of all was yesterday, with Marion (one of my D&D players) arriving in London. She settled in nicely, I sat her down in front of Honour Among Thieves and Nimona, and the first few episodes of The Sandman, and we did some basic prep for the upcoming con. Only down sides involved the kitchen sink, which decided to back up on us. That still hasn't been entirely fixed but I'm working on it in stages.

This morning, we got up and headed for the convention, which ironically went a lot easier for me than for Marion - first she forgot to get her ticket verified at the same time as I was getting mine, and then she offered him the wrong confirmation email (she went to a smaller con here a few weeks ago). But we got it sorted out and headed in to see the things.

Good news is that they learned their lesson from the 2018 Critical Role panel and will be streaming it to every stage in the building. Bad news is that they underestimated the popularity of Baldur's Gate 3 and we couldn't even get near the queue for their panel. Apparently they're doing another one tomorrow but honestly, we might not bother. The stream's bound to end up on YouTube at some point anyway.

We wandered. I bought a set of dice (Scanlan-themed, mostly because I like purple), and picked up a lot of business cards. There's some neat stuff that I'll go over when there's not someone trying to sleep in the next room. I also threw axes because ... why not? Apparently my form was perfect and I would have done better than three out of eight if I'd put a bit more power behind my throws. Honestly, given the fibromyalgia, I'm surprised I did as well as I did. There are pictures - another one for later.

Then we went home via the big Sainsbury's, and I picked up drain cleaner (which has not really helped) and eventually put some dinner together. More Sandman and various other bits of fun.

Tomorrow is autograph and picture day. That's mainly what we're both there for, but we're happy to see a few panels if the mood takes us. Having to be a little careful about the spending this time around, though, because apparently my overtime pay has not gone through. Again. So I'm going to have to email Scruffman about that. But being on a budget isn't so bad. Although oddly, one of the three purchases I made today wasn't at the con at all. There was a bin of Squishmallows at the big Sainsbury's and while most of them were green dragons, there was one purple manatee. All by itself. Purple. Manatee. Squishmallow. It was like it was put there just for me.

Right. I'mma go crash. Tomorrow's a big day and I should be well-rested for it.

[cecexwrites]

(only if you feel like it) Kinktober 1 and/or 2 for Harry and his potions mistresses?

It was never a lovely day on The Isle, but this was about as close as it came, with a bit of sun peeking out between the endless clouds. Quinn took advantage, going to the only eatery that wasn't the disgusting fish and chips shop- until someone proved to her that Ursula wasn't using her own eggs to make the food, she wasn't going to eat there. She picked through the plate that was sitting in front of her. What she had ordered was a meat and cheese sandwich. On the Isle no one got to pick their meat, as no one could verify what kind of meat it truly was. However, what was sat in front of her was a pretty decent looking plate of pasta.

She could have pointed out she didn't order this, but seeing as it was probably significantly less rotten than the sandwich that was sitting in the kitchen window, she opted to keep what was put in front of her and when someone on the other side of the restaurant started to berate the waiter for bringing them the wrong thing- the waiter simply punched them and a couple of men with more muscle than brains dragged the person away from the 'patio seating' and tossed them into the street. 

"Thought I might find you here." A shadow fell over the table and Quinn looked up, her smart ass answer dying on her lips as she processed who she was looking at. Harry Hook and Gloria Gothel, in all their glory. Quinn slowly let her gaze drift up and down his body, and then hers. 

"A girl has to eat." She answered. "Join me?" She offered. Gloria's dark eyes swept over the table Quinn had snagged, or more to the point, the table she'd shoved a couple of pirate runts away from. "Only two seats." She noted, as if debating which option she liked more, making Harry sit on the ground, or making one of them share. 

Quinn made the choice for her, standing up and gesturing. "There's room for us both." She offered. Gloria smirked, turning and taking the seat, letting Quinn settle on her lap. Quinn speared some of the pasta onto the broken fork she'd been given and fed it to Gloria, who hmm'd softly as she chewed. 

"Pasta isn't as stale this time." She noted. 

"That's what it is." Quinn snapped her fingers and offered a bite to Harry, who had plopped down in the seat next to hers. His lips closed around the fork as Quinn felt Gloria's hands expertly and deftly untying the laces that held the front of her pants closed. 

"Harry and I just left his ship." Gloria commented, her warm hand slipped down into the front of the tight leather pants. One of the upsides of Evie being Evie was that she was not about to allow her sister to look like a ragamuffin. It reflected badly on the family and thus, Quinn always had well fitting, cute outfits. 

"Oh?" Quinn asked, taking a bite of her own food, doing her best to act as if Gloria's long, soft fingers were running down into her panties, Gloria's middle finger running down the middle of her slit, teasing Quinn's clit. 

"We could have used you, Quinn." Harry reached over, plucking a bit of pasta from the bowl, popping it into his mouth, he held his sauce covered fingers out and Quinn leaned over, taking them into her mouth, licking them clean. 

"Is that so? And what were you two doing?" Quinn's voice hitched as Gloria lightly pinched her clit between two fingers. 

"I was riding his dick." Gloria answered. 

"She surprised me this morning." Harry grinned. "woke me up with her mouth around my cock. My favorite way to wake up." He took the fork from Quinn and stabbed a bit more pasta, feeding it to Gloria, who's hand was quite busy. "Then she rode me until I got to see how fucking gorgeous she is when she cums." He fed the next bite to Quinn, who was struggling to pay attention. 

"Not hungry anymore, Quinn?" Gloria teased, "Oh would you look at that?" She slipped her fingers into Quinn's pussy, up to the second knuckle, smirking at just how wet she was. She pulled the two fingers out, unbothered by any mess she made, holding them up so they could all see how damp they were, the strings of arousal that connected the two. 

"Hungry for something else." Harry confirmed, leaning over to suck Gloria's fingers clean

"Very." Quinn agreed. 

"Be a good girl, Quinn, Eat your lunch." Gloria let her hand slide back down into Quinn's pants, "Not too quickly, wouldn't want you to get sick." There was a scraping sound as Harry moved closer to the two. 

God Bless Harry Hook and his ambidexterity. He smoothly used his right hand to gather more pasta on the fork, while the left slipped under Quinn's shirt. She wasn't wearing a bra so there was no barrier between his larger, more calloused hands and Quinn's already hard nipples. 

She let out a soft whimper as he pinched one between his fingers. The people at the table next to them glanced over, curious. 

"They can see how much you like this, Quinn." Gloria muttered against Quinn's neck, her fingers working in and out of Quinn's cunt, her palm grinding against her clit. "My little slut." She preened, nipping at her shoulder. 

"The pasta is good." Harry declared. "But you will taste so much better." he predicted, feeding her another bite. She took it, her hands gripping the edge of the table as she came closer and closer to coming. The table that had been watching, slowly realized what was going on and their interest increased. Public sex wasn't new around the Isle. This was the land of the evil, of degenerates. They were here for fun and watching as Quinn attempted to finish her food despite the hands all over her body counted as fun. Gloria's other hand joined Harry's toying with the untouched nipple until Quinn couldn't hold back.

Her hips lifted up off of Gloria's lap as she came, she let out a soft cry of pleasure as Gloria, didn't slow, but instead sped up. 

"Fuck- I- Gloria." Quinn gasped as she saw stars. Only then did Gloria slowly drag her hand out of Quinn's pants, this time she sucked her own fingers clean. 

"Harry is right, you do taste much, much better." She agreed. "Done?" Gloria asked. Quinn pushed the half finished plate away and nodded, words were a little too much for her at the moment. "Good, let's go to my place." She decided, Quinn cleared her throat and stood up. The men who had watched the show quickly snatched the leftover pasta from the table, but Quinn couldn't care less, not even bothering to tighten and re-tie her pants. 

Gloria's place was closer, and it had the added benefit of Quinn's mother not being there. Quinn had no shame about what she did in the bedroom, but Grimhilde was relentless in ruining the mood with her screeching voice. and warnings about stretch marks should they fuck up and she get pregnant. 

Gloria led the way to her room and gestured for them both to walk in. She locked the door behind them- again, not because they didn't enjoy people seeing, but because interruptions really got to be a mood killer. 

Quinn wasted no time, leather pants and her soaking wet cunt weren't a fun combo, so she wriggled out of the pants, kicking them away. Harry licked his lips, crossing the room to kiss her while Gloria busied herself with the chest at the end of the bed. 

Quinn stripped Harry of his vest, his belt and finally his shirt, leaving it all in a pile with her leather pants. He, meanwhile, got her shirt off

Gloria closed the trunk and there was a soft thud as she dropped something on top. She opened the shades covering the windows, and grabbed a couple of extra pillows. None of the pillows on the Isle were that great, but they had their uses, mostly under someone's hips. 

"Bend her over the bed, Hook." She ordered, opening a drawer and pulling out a bottle. She tossed it to Harry, who easily caught it in one hand. He smirked, doing as he was told, gripping Quinn by the back of the neck, making her turn and bend over the bed, his grip moving to her panties, literally ripping the scraps of material off of her. She started to whine but stopped as she felt the ice cold metal- the curve of Harry's hook against her clit. 

"Good girl." thin, soft fingertips ran up her spine. Quinn started to look back, but Harry's free hand gripped her neck and forced her to face forward again.

She could hear movement behind her, the whisper of clothing falling to the floor, the click of a lid opening. Then the cool liquid dripping down over her ass. 

"Make sure to prep her, Harry. We don't want her hurt... yet." Gloria warned. The bed shifted as Gloria climbed up onto it. moving until she was in front of Quinn, her back against the wall. She had shed her own clothes, so when she spread her legs she was fully bare for Quinn's enjoyment. "Make me cum, baby." Gloria ordered. Quinn happily obliged, pulling Gloria in closer. 

Gloria gathered Quinn's silky dark hair in one fist, holding it tight as Quinn licked and sucked on Gloria's clit. Gloria moaned, letting her hips raise up to meet Quinn's tongue. Her eyes opened to meet Harry's and she nodded, Harry coated his fingers in the same lube he'd dripped down onto Quinn, sliding one finger into her tight ass. 

Quinn moaned against Gloria's pussy, doing her best to not let his finger distract her. It was fine- until he added the second. This wasn't the first time she'd done this, but she was sure she'd never get used to the slight burn as she was stretched around his fingers. He kept it slow enough though, thrusting them in and out at a steady pace. 

"Fuck- Quinn." Gloria gasped, gripping her hair tighter. Quinn's scalp prickled as she pulled even tighter. She wasn't going to stop until she made Gloria scream. She didn't even pause as Harry added a third finger to the other two, moving them faster. She didn't stop until Gloria cried out, her hand slapping against the wall behind her as she came. She took a few deep breaths, coming down from the orgasm. When she knew she could move without shaking, she crawled off the bed and back over to the chest, picking up what she had dropped on top before. 

Harry slowly pulled his fingers out of her ass and let his other hand come down, slapping her asscheek, the smacking sound filling the room. Quinn let out a whimper, burying her face in the threadbare sheets that smelled like sex and Gloria. 

"Holy shit." Harry stepped back and Quinn looked up as Gloria stepped into a contraption made up of black straps, and in the front of it all was a large, dark red cock. 

"Holy shit." Quinn agreed, pushing herself to stand up. Gloria smirked and walked over, kissing Harry. 

"Do you like it?" She asked the pair. Harry nodded, his eyes glued to the toy. Quinn reached out, wrapping her hand around it. It was an odd material, soft but hard, not unlike a real cock. "You wouldn't believe the strings I had to pull and favors I had to call in to get this thing on the Isle." She reached down and stroked it slowly. 

"It's huge." Harry commented. 

"It's not that bad." Gloria shook her head. "And My Quinn is going to take it like a champ, aren't you?" She reached out, pulling Quinn in for a kiss. "While Harry takes that pretty little ass of yours." She nipped at Quinn's lower lip. Quinn gasped softly, nodding slowly. "That's my girl." She gestured for Harry to get on the bed. He sat down, his cock bobbing almost obscenely at them. Gloria grabbed the lube, slicking up her hand and giving his cock a few good pumps to coat it. Quinn backed up against him, and he guided his cock into place, letting her slowly lower herself down onto him. She whimpered softly, but Gloria stroked her hair, encouraging her.

Quinn slowly moved up and down until she was fully seated, taking his whole cock. 

"That's my girl, you're taking it so well." Gloria kissed her, lining up the toy with her pussy. She could see how wet Quinn was, dripping down onto Harry's cock. She pushed the first couple of inches in, then back out, with each thrust forward, she pushed in a couple more inches, until she was fully inside. Harry's leg's spread to make room for Gloria as Quinn was lying back on his chest. His hands coming around to the front, pinching and teasing Quinn's nipples. 

Quinn had never felt so full in her life. Even when Gloria had used a dildo on her ass while Harry fucked her- that hadn't felt quite this full. She wasn't sure if they'd be able to move without sending her to the moon. She spread her legs wider, her feet propped up on the bed as they slowly started to move. Harry used his free arm to prop them up so he could thrust his cock in and out of her ass slowly while Gloria moved in and out of her cunt in an opposite rhythm. 

"Gloria- Fuck-" Quinn cried out as Harry's teeth sank into her neck, just how she liked it. With that, Gloria gripped the other woman's hips and began to properly fuck her, her strap on hammering into the poor woman's pussy, roughly, with no regard for Harry's rhythm, just taking what she wanted. 

Quinn cried out again, her back arching up, but coming down as Harry's hand yanked her back against him. Gloria moved one hand between them to tease Quinn's clit as she continued to fuck her, her focus on Quinn, on making her cum. She could see the signs now when Quinn was close, when she was almost there. 

"That's my girl, cum for me, Quinn, cum hard for me, baby." She encouraged. Quinn did just that, crying out louder as she came, Gloria knew, without a doubt, the whole damn neighborhood heard that. 

"You're not done yet baby." She reminded her. "Roll." She helped them move so that Quinn was bent over the bed again, Harry on top of her now, more room to move now. 

He began to thrust in earnest now, his hand on her back, pressing her into the bed as he fucked her ass. Quinn whimpered into the bed, her hands gripping at the sheets, desperately holding on. 

Gloria picked up the discarded bottle of lube, carefully coating her own fingers. She dribbled a bit onto Harry's ass and he paused, looking back at her. She quirked an eyebrow but he didn't say anything, going back to fucking Quinn. Gloria smirked, spreading him and slipping two fingers into his ass. 

Harry groaned, each thrust back and forth with Quinn meant fucking himself on Gloria's fingers. She added a third and finally a fourth finger, stretching him nice and wide. 

"Fuck- Harry, I'm almost-" Quinn gasped. Gloria waited, watching as Quinn's legs locked, shaking as she came for the fourth time. Quinn slumped against the bed, exhausted but Gloria wasn't done with her yet. She let Harry keep going, fucking Quinn until he came, shooting his load into her. After they were done, She'd get all three of them in the shower to properly clean up. And these sheets were her extras, she wasn't about to get this mess on her normal sheets. 

"Harry, look at our girl." She teased, moving closer behind him, she slowly trailed the head of the fake cock up and down his ass. "I don't think she's had enough." Quinn loved forced orgasms. She wanted to be pushed until she actually couldn't take anymore. She wasn't satisfied until her cunt was red and sore, Quinn let out a soft whining sound as Harry pushed her to roll over onto her back. 

"What do you think?" He asked, looking down between her legs. She was leaking his cum from her ass, her own cum glistening around her pussy. 

"That you can use a meal. Sit up, Quinn, up against the wall." Gloria ordered. Quinn huffed, but did just that, scooting up so she could lean against the wall, just as Gloria had before. 

"I'm going to fuck you, Harry." Gloria informed him. "I'm going to fuck you, and then we are going to take a shower and we are going to go again." She kissed his shoulder and he got down on the bed. He pulled Quinn in closer, biting her inner thigh, before he began to properly eat her out. 

While he was doing that, Gloria positioned the head of the cock at his entrance, slowly pushing in a couple of inches. She actually wasn't sure if this was his first time or not (It wasn't) but she knew that taking it slow was smarter than going at it. She thrust in and out, taking her time. Harry shuddered as inch five- six- seven slipped into him. 

"Fuck-" Gloria hadn't really expected to like how this looked this much. She knew she'd love getting to properly fuck Quinn, but taking Harry? She gripped his hips, rolling her body, he grunted, the sound muffled by Quinn's clit. "That's a good boy." She slapped his ass and he groaned, rolling his head back to look at her. She smirked, oh, he liked that. She filed that away- and went about fucking their man. 

She's fucked Harry many, many times in many different positions, but this was different. This time, being on top in this way, she could see the muscles in his back as they flexed, as they moved under the skin. She could feel the muscles in his ass clench and flex against her hips and thighs as the orgasm built within him. 

She was aware of Quinn's orgasm when it happened, but her focus in that moment was on Harry, on how instead of gripping the bed, he gripped Quinn's legs, his fingers digging into her skin. Quinn didn't complain, she liked the pain. They all liked pain. 

She dragged her nails down his back, leaving eight lines from his shoulders down to his lower back and that did it for him- he let out a string of curses, his hips bucking wildly until he was done. When Gloria pulled out, he fell down to the bed, his legs unable to hold him up. She carefully unstrapped the toy, stepping out of it and putting it to the side so it could join them in the shower. She smirked, looking down at Quinn and Harry, who finally was able to get himself up onto the bed. 

"My favorite sight." She reached over the bed to slap Quinn's clit. The woman arched up to meet her hand, quickly grabbing Gloria's wrist and pulling her into the bed with them. She let it happen, her body pressed up against Harry's. 

"Now it's our turn." Quinn kissed Gloria. Harry's left hand, the one under her, moved to her stomach, holding her against him. His left went between her legs, teasing her clit. Quinn pulled herself to sit up, spreading Gloria's legs. She hummed in approval, slipping a couple of fingers into her cunt. 

"So wet." Harry commented against her ear. 

"Dripping." Quinn agreed, adding a third finger. Gloria let out a moan, her hips rolling to meet their hands. Quinn moved her hand, using the arousal from Gloria's pussy as lube to slip a finger into her ass, her other hand taking over, three fingers into Gloria's cunt. 

"Fuck-" Gloria's body jerked, but they didn't stop, Harry's fingers rough on her clit as Quinn's fingers worked her holes. Harry slapped her clit, just as she had to Quinn and that did it for her, She came, hard, her pussy clenching around Quinn's fingers. Her hips bucking up. She wasn't quite as loud and Quinn, the neighborhood might not know- but the neighbors definitely did. She rode out the orgasm, until she was able to settle down. 

"We need a shower." She commented, making no move to get up. 

"We do." Quinn agreed, laying down next to them, kissing Gloria. "And we will- in a minute."

"And then, we'll start all over again."