#there are more prompts that will be involved with this

[yandere-sins]

Monstober - Day 9: Folklore Creatures

Spin on "Little Red Riding Hood" anyone? What could be better than someone so obsessed with you, they simply want to eat you up?

Prompt: Folklore Creatures | Cautionary Tales // Truth // Naivity Warnings: Yandere, Violence (non-main character murder, Blood Mention, Implied Bullying of the reader (off-screen)), Topic of Jealousy, Posessiveness

"Love you, hun."

Pressing a gentle kiss to your head, your boyfriend got up, stretching his arms high over his head and popping his neck before he got to his feet with a sigh. "Where are you going? Do you really have to leave?" you mumbled, the disappointment unmistakably in your voice. It had been like this for weeks now, where you two spent a passionate night before he slipped out without a trace to find him all day.

"Mhm," he sighed, leaning down to you again to catch your lips once more. "You know how much it pains me, but I got to go before it's too late. Wouldn't want to awaken the monster in me, would you?"

He said it as if it was a challenge, and you giggled, thinking it was just another innuendo. "Wouldn't let me get out of bed, huh?"

"Oh, I'd gobble you up, darling."

Laughing, he stepped away, putting his shirt back on as he dipped into the bathroom of your small apartment real quick. The moment he disappeared from view, you couldn't help your expression from showing the disappointment and frustration you felt. It had been almost a month now, and you two never went out together in the daylight, never saw each other except when he picked you up for a night out in the club or came to watch a movie that was never finished.

It felt more like you were his friend-with-benefits—you didn't even know his last name.

As if you were the other one.

The thought made your blood boil. You weren't proud of it, but in a moment of jealous weakness, you had checked his phone, seeing countless messages where he told people how excited he was to hang out and make appointments with them while he never seemed to do the same for you. It didn't seem like he had another partner in his life, but how could you be sure when he played the role of the mysterious night visitor rather than your wholesome boyfriend?

Was he ashamed of you? Were you not good enough? Did he just keep you around for his entertainment? The questions plagued you as he never gave you a good answer. He wouldn't even entertain the discussions, only vowing that he loved you and his work was very important and took him all day.

So why was he meeting other people then?

There wasn't much time once he said his goodbyes, his kisses nothing short of loving and sweet. For a possible cheater, he was good at what he was doing. You only had a few seconds of self-doubt about what you were going to do before you were out of the door and hunting after him, long coat and sunglasses on in true stalker-fashion. It felt wrong, and you hated yourself for mistrusting him so much, but at the same time, you two were still practically strangers, knowing so little while still being so in love. A little craziness was inevitable, right?

However, as your boyfriend turned from the main street into the shady path leading to the central park of your town, you suddenly felt a sense of panic. What if you accidentally got involved with some shady fellow? What if this was a drug deal or worse? Why would someone need to go to a park in the middle of the night?

You had assumed he was leaving you alone every night to hook up with other people or go back to an unsuspecting partner, but as you gently brushed through the thicket, trying to stay out of the moonlight that would give away your presence, you suddenly weren't so sure anymore.

You could still see him as he walked further into the park. It should have been your sign to leave, get away while you could, and cut all contact... but you had already gotten this far. Following closely by hiding behind trees and the occasional park bench, you tracked him through the greenery. Once, he almost seemed to spot you, but you ducked into a bush just in time, regretting this move only when the thicket tore at the fabric of your coat, making unnecessary noise. Still, you managed to stay hidden, heart racing and always alert.

Eventually, your boyfriend sat on a park bench in front of a pond. Nothing much happened for the next few minutes, and you were about to call this mission off, seeing how relaxed he was. It was as if he simply enjoyed hanging out in the park at night like a semi-normal person would.

But footsteps crunching over the gravel made you cower lower, your eyes fixating on the person approaching. Your boyfriend lifted a hand in greeting, and the person sprinted forward, hood falling off her head, revealing a cruel sight.

Because you knew the woman your boyfriend was meeting.

Your bully.

Heart sinking into your stomach, you watched as she jumped into his arms, giggling as your boyfriend spun her around. The only reason for them to meet you could think of was that the two set you up, made you fall in love with him so they could laugh at you behind your back. It really broke your heart to watch them cuddle on the park bench, your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—ruffling her hair.

You didn't want to stay to see this.

It was a good thing you found out, but with tears filling your eyes, you knew you had to leave before you were discovered or hurt yourself more by watching them. This trainwreck wasn't one you should have been observing, and it hurt enough that you wanted to never come out of your home again.

"You know, [Name]?" your boyfriend suddenly asked, the sound of your name on his tongue so bittersweet.

"Who? Oh..." your bully replied, thinking for a moment. "What about them? They are a loser, not worth your time."

"Is that so? Because they told me about you, lots of things."

"You're ruining the mood. Isn't it enough that I agreed to meet you here? It's so creepy! Did you know how they found quite a few bodies lately around this park? We should go clubbing or to a bar, why are we even here talking about some loser?"

Your bully let out a frustrated sigh, throwing her hair back over her shoulder before leaning close. "You know we never even kissed until now. Don't you think it's such a waste of those lovely lips to talk when we could make out instead?"

Letting out a dry laugh, he didn't seem flattered at all as she tried to avert the topic of you. Good, you thought, because you really weren't up to hearing about yourself from the bully and the traitor. Even so, you couldn't move. As if you were frozen to the spot.

"Good thing you mentioned that. I prefer not making my partner worried about whether I'm cheating or not."

"Partner?" your bully spat, scrunching up her nose, the ugliness of her expression matching her personality. "Don't tell me you're fucking with that. I thought you had better taste when you asked me out to dinner the last few times. Thought you'd appreciate beauty more--"

Her words were cut off as your boyfriend's hand wrapped around your throat. He brought her face closer to his, sounding more enraged than you had ever heard him before. "How dare you talk about them like that. They are perfect. Wonderful. Special. It's filth like you that needs to be taken out so my love can be happy."

The two rose from their seat, and you watched as your boyfriend seemingly effortlessly hoisted your bully into the air. Something felt off, and you couldn't look away as you watched the clothes on his body tearing apart, your bully struggling as his fingers stretched and wrapped around her neck completely. She let out mewls and gasps as she tried to kick him, tried to make him stop, but the horror was in both of your eyes as you watched your boyfriend transform.

Skin turned into fur, mouth into snout. His posture changed as his body grew taller, monstrous, into a beast. Part of you couldn't believe your own eyes as you watched him take on canine features as if you were in a movie, watching a werewolf transform, but by the way, your bully was struggling harder, unable to scream, you realized it was real, and she saw it too.

Horrified, you could only clasp your hands over your mouth, containing your shivers. Doggish years popped up from his head, twisting and turning towards your direction. You had to be quiet, undetected, or surely, you'd be the next prey of that monster. His snout opened, long, sharp teeth glistening in the moonlight, and you heard the gurgled scream of your bully before the beast pounced, biting between her neck and shoulder.

Your bully was still kicking and trying to break loose as blood gushed from the bite, her sounds turning into gurgles before everything quieted out, and she stopped moving. Even though your eyes were so wide open, you couldn't believe them at all, couldn't understand what just happened, only listening to the sound of fluids gushing out and dripping to the floor, bones breaking beneath the claws and massive jaw, and eventually, her body simply slipping from his grip, seemingly meaningless.

"[Name], [Name], [Name]. Isn't it so impolite to eavesdrop on others?" the monster suddenly grumbled. Its massive head swung in your direction, eyes scanning from one side of the thicket to the other before finally settling on you despite the greenery. "I didn't want you to find out like this. We could have talked about it some other time—like on a picnic!"

Putting his feet into motion, you were still completely frozen as you watched the creature march towards you. If this was a bad dream, now would have been a good moment to wake up. You two held the eye contact, even as you watched the grotesque features slowly turn back into a human, first the head, then arms.

"Well, it is your business, too, I'll admit. I've been doing this all of you. Was I not a good boy, taking care of all these mean people for you?"

Until now, you had never taken much notice of the people you disliked disappearing. If anything, you were glad they weren't around anymore. But now that he was pointing it out, a cold shudder ran down your spine, guilt overcoming you.

"They were in the way of your happiness, and I need a good meal every now and then. We both got something out of it, you sweet, sweet thing—look at you cowering. Are you scared? Of the big, bad wolf? What if I'm a nice wolf, will you come to me then? Don't worry, no one's going to hurt you, I'll take care of all that try."

Even with the words so sweetly murmured, you didn't dare move and fall for his promises. He was a fucking werewolf or any other kind of monster! But werewolf made the most sense. It also explained so much more, for example, how he knew exactly where you were. It only made you wonder if he knew all along. Let himself be exposed to you. Wanting for you to see this.

See him.

Now back in his human form, he reached into the bush, parting it aside to reveal your cowering form. His grin widened as he watched you trembling in fear from him, this... other side of him probably enjoying a primal thrill at the prey he had caught.

"What... what are you? You had those big ears-"

"-to hear your thrilling pulse, darling."

"And your eyes were-"

"-so I could spot you and make sure you'd not hurt yourself, sweetheart."

"A-And your mouth was... you know."

At this, he simply grinned, and you gulped down any other word. "Gobble you up," he said earlier that night. It had not just been a sexy innuendo.

"Are you... going to kill me, too?" you asked woefully, feeling like your fate had already been sealed.

"You? Now, now, who'd do such a thing."

Clicking his tongue at you as if you had just insulted him, your boyfriend stepped through the gap in the bush, crossing over into your hideout, destroying every safety this thicket had provided with his presence. He leaned down, picking you up with what you now knew was unnatural strength and holding your bridal style as he carried you back towards the pond. The moonlight shined down on you two, the reflection on the water's surface blinding you. But it wasn't enough to make you forget about the body that laid just below you.

"I'm glad you could make it here, though. I wanted to enjoy the full moon with you for so long, you know? But you did interrupt my meal, how are you going to make up for it?" he asked, not a hint of seriousness in his voice. As if this was all a game rather than the brutal reality you had only just learned about.

"I--" you sputtered, unable to answer that. Your mind kept coming back to realize you were the next best meal to have and served as if on a silver platter as he carried you.

"Juuust joking," your boyfriend laughed. "How about we go home and order some late-night food? I'm so hungry!"

Ignoring the dead body on the floor, he merely stepped over it, chatting about whether he wanted burger or tacos as if he hadn't just revealed himself to be a fairytale monster and killed someone.

"Or, you know, we could make this fun. You could run, and I could catch you, have a nibble of those sweet cheeks; how about it?"

You felt the blood drain from your face, and his grin diminished as he watched you cower into yourself, his grip tightening around as you grew tense. "Okay, too early, got it."

"You're really not going to kill me?"

"Nope. Can't. You're my mate. You're what all werewolves crave—what I crave. Your happiness is all that satisfies me."

"Then... you'll let me go if I want to?"

His expression turned into a frown, and he shook his head. "There are rules," he said factually. "I'll explain them to you someday. But basically, they don't allow us to tell people about our existence. If I let you go, you might tell someone and--"

"I won't! I promise! I'll take your secret to the grave, please!" you pleaded, and your boyfriend grimaced, looking unhappy at your determination.

"And even more importantly-" he continued, raising his voice threatingly to make you behave. "-they teach us to never let our mates go, as there won't be another one. And living without is torture for a werewolf."

"Never?" you whined softly, and the smile returned to his face. Now he looked almost completely back to normal, like the sweet boyfriend you fell in love with. But you couldn't ignore the wolf in a sheep's skin—not with the blood of your bully still clinging to his chest.

"Never," he assured you firmly, and you knew instinctively that he meant it.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

If you're looking for prompts, I've got a little idea, ,,,, I wanna see Nik fight someone for John. Maybe some asshole doesn't like what he sees when they're outside together, or an enemy, or whatever suits your fancy, but Nik unleashing the beast and maybe going too far but no one touches his love while he's around. Nik losing control of himself for a moment and then waking up, feeling very bad about it all. Angst with comfort, you know :3c (if you haven't written anything similar already, of course !! )

Nik believes Price is dead. He tears the world to pieces in his grief.

cw: extreme violence, torture, child endangerment, no MCD. Nikolai goes off the deepend. (Also for Anon who asked for the same.)

Laswell had delivered bad news many times in her career. It usually started the same way. 'Please sit down...' and then you moved onto the facts of the matter - the ones you could actually tell them - 'they died in the line of duty, they were killed by... they served with distinction' - and finally, you finished with 'I'm sorry for your loss, the United States government is at your disposal if...'

She knew what the relative, or relatives, looked like at each stage. The disbelief, the cracks of emotion spidering through their eyes as they tried to keep themselves together, and then the inevitable disintegration. Some people wailed, others sobbed softly into their hands, one person had roared in anguish and dropped to the floor. Grief looked slightly different on everyone, but she had seen every permutation.

There was usually another family member to pick them up, to offer comfort. It was hard. People got through. They healed, or they didn't. But that, as brutal as it was, was none of her concern. She had no loyalty to them and no history.

Nothing in her career had prepared her for telling Nikolai that Captain John Price had been killed in the line of duty.

John's task force stood with her as Nik walked into the room. She had placed damn tissues in the table. Tissues. Like Nikolai, of all people, would disintegrate into weeping and mucus. Perhaps it would have been easier if he had.

"Laswell," Nik greeted her in his usual manner, eyes crinkled in the corners, his hands spread. He looked at the three men standing around her in turn and instantly noted a fourth missing. The one he looked for first every time. The one that owned his heart and soul. His gaze lingered on Gaz, whose head tilted as if to begin an apology, and then finally Nik looked at Laswell. "Where is the captain?"

"Nik, take a seat." She gestured at the chair next to the table. Nik glanced at it, and then looked back at her. There was no point insisting. He was as stubborn as John was... had been.

The facts. "On 8th October, the 141 were involved in a raid on a base in search of a high value target. The mission went awry, and John was... killed covering the escape of his men." She swallowed, lowering her voice. For the first time since she had learned the news herself, she felt a stab of pain in her chest. "I'm sorry, Nik."

She believed she had seen grief in all its forms, but what she saw in Nikolai's eyes added a new dimension to her understanding. It was like all the light vanished in an instant; the jovial, lively man she had known for years since he turned informant for MI6 dissipated like smoke in the wind. It was a silent death; his face turned hard, his eyes darkened, and his huge body seemed to expand, casting a bigger shadow. The Nikolai she knew, and loved in her own way, disappeared before her very eyes.

"How?" he asked, his voice no more than whisper.

"He was shot," Sergeant MacTavish stepped forward. The scar down his face was still raw; a livid red in the artificial lights. "Savin' us. Watchin' our backs. Like he always did." Soap pulled something from his pocket and slid it across the table to Nik's hands. A boonie hat, Laswell noted. "Don't even 'ave his dog tags tae give ye, I..."

Nik looked at the folded beige cloth in silence, his eyes moving left to right as if he was reading something from it. When he picked it up, he touched the folded rim to his lips and then his forehead, before gazing down at it in his palms. "Who?"

"Nik?" Laswell asked, watching him carefully.

"Who is to blame? Give me the name."

"Nik, I can't--"

"A name, Kate!" His voice snapped like a whip through the room, with all the impact of a gunshot. She saw the fury in his eyes, the sharp edges, the fury, turning his usually warm brown hue into two bottomless pits.

"Makarov," Lieutenant Riley said. "Vladimir Makarov."

"Ultranationalists." It rolled out of Nik's mouth like he was spitting poison from his tongue. The corner of his eye twitched, his lips curling in a sneer. Laswell often forgot how dangerous, how volatile, Nikolai had been in those early days, when his wounds were raw and open, before John had helped him heal into the best version of himself. But she remembered now as she watched those proverbial wounds split open again, rending through psychological scars long since faded. Nik said nothing more, but tucked John's hat into the loops of his belt as he turned to leave.

"Nikolai, whatever you're planning on doing, we must ensure you--"

"There is no 'we', Laswell," Nik said. "There is not even a 'me' anymore."

She watched him leave, her words lodged in her throat. No one else tried to stop him either. They had lost their mentor, their captain, their friend. Nik had lost his heart. She cast a glance at Riley. "If it gets bad, if he goes too far, it'll be you that has to put him down."

Soap scoffed. "Why'd we do tha'? Hope he gives 'em hell."

"The only thing that kept Nikolai on our side was John Price," she said. "And once he's finished tearing through Ultranationalists and realises it hasn't healed his grief, or brought him peace, who do you think a man like Nikolai will come for next?"

They stood in silence.

***

"König, ich möchte dich einstellen."

"Ha! Nikolai? Was ist mit Chimera passiert?"

"Dafür brauche ich eine andere Strategie."

***

"Do your worst. I have nothing to tell you," the prisoner spat, a globule and saliva and blood landing on the floor near Nik's boot. Nik had already torn out three teeth with pliers, broken his ribs and two fingers. The man, one Ivan Yegerov, was tied to the chair with rope and barbed wire, which meant every convulsion tore into his skin, leaving deep welts of rended flesh leaking onto the floor.

He wasn't the first. Not even tonight.

Nikolai had shattered Yegerov's friend's skull with the wrench propped up against the wall nearby. The blood had spattered up his bare torso, matting his chest hair, stained the side of his face. Shirtless, with a buzzcut he hadn't worn since his time in the Russian Air Force, he looked every part the madman he had become. He had ignored Laswell's attempts to contact him, leaving bodies for her men to find, with notes pinned to their foreheads containing their sins. She had stopped trying after two years, but he knew she was still following his blood trail.

Yegerov and his ally had been at the base in Ukraine and, with KorTac's help, it had been a simple matter of extracting key links in the chain for a conversation. Nikolai was tracking them down, one by one, and once he was done there, he would make his way slowly to the top.

"This is not an interrogation," Nik said as he ran his fingers over the tools on the table. "This is revenge. The interrogation will start soon."

Nik selected a serrated hunting knife and turned it over his fingers as he walked towards his captive. Yegerov leaned back in the chair as Nik planted his hands over his broken wrists, seething and whimpering in pain. "Do you know the best way to extract information?" Nik asked. Yegerov said nothing, so Nik squeezed his wrists. "Answer."

"Ah, no! No! I do not."

"They truly do not make terrorists like they used to," Nik said quietly. "I will tell you." Nik ran the tip of the hunting knife down Yegerov's cheek as he spoke, not quite pressing hard enough for it to cut in yet. "You must find a bargaining chip. Every man has something in their life that they cannot live without, a line they will not cross. It is their reason to breathe, it governs their actions, it helps them... find their limit."

Nik stood up straight and reached into his back pocket, his fingers skimming over the folded boonie hat threaded through his belt loops. The picture he pulled out was crumpled and worn, spattered with sweat and blood. It had been pristine when he had snatched it from the overhead screen of his Black Hawk, the rage running in torrents of tears down his face as he had pressed it to his lips.

He had torn himself out of it, because he looked nothing like the man he had; his hair buzzed down to a military shave, his body leaner, his eyes dead. Only John remained, with his big grin and his glittering eyes. Nik pushed the picture close to Yegerov's face as he had done with every man he had killed so far. "He was my line. My reason to breathe. And you took him away."

Yegerov squinted, terrified eyes lifting away from the picture of a smiling John Price to Nik's. Before he could say anything, the nearby door burst open and König forced two hooded figures through in front of him, one so small he barely reached his hip. "Ah, bargaining chips," Nikolai stood, throwing the hunting knife to the table. "Shall we find your line, comrade?"

König shoved his hostages forward to stand before Yegerov and then tore their hoods off. Yegerov let out a strangled wail of horror as he drank in the tear-stained faces of his wife and daughter. "No, no!"

"This is how it works," Nikolai said. "You give me name of someone who will know the current whereabouts of Makarov, and I will allow you to choose who survives." It was unlikely Yegerov would know anything. Nik just wanted him to experience the feeling of powerlessness as his loved ones died before his eyes.

The same feeling Nik had felt when he had been considering turning his Black Hawk towards the White House; suicide by F-15. Numb emptiness, desperation, a bottomless, writhing grief that shredded his heart. He had decided then to leave a trail of bodies in his wake first, only then would he join John.

"No, please... please, no."

Nik picked up his M9 and checked the magazine. "I count down; five, four..." He pulled back the pistol slide and turned the weapon first to the woman, who cowered, clutching her child's head to her chest.

"Please, she is just a child!"

"...three, two.."

"Wait! Wait! He's alive!"

Nik's finger lifted from the trigger just as he was about to pull it, settling along the barrel. He looked first to König, and then to Yegerov. "Repeat."

"He's alive... John Price," Yegerov said, almost hyperventilating. "Stop pointing that gun at my wife! I will tell you! Tell you everything. Please."

Nik hesitated. For the first time since this crusade had begun, he hesitated. He returned the M9 to the table and trudged back to his captive, both hands slamming down onto his broken wrists. "If you are lying to me, I will make you watch as I peel every inch of skin from your wife's body while she is still alive."

Yegerov swallowed. "On her life, he is alive. Prisoner 627. He is at a gulag in Petrovpavlosk. Please. He is alive. You can check using my... my passkey in our system. Do not kill my family. Mercy."

Nikolai looked at König who inclined his head, disappearing from the room to follow the lead. The two hostages sank against the wall, whimpering and shivering, and Nik straightened slowly. His fingers ghosted over John's hat, and then found his picture again. Hope was a dangerous thing and Nik resisted the heat of it burning in his chest. "Mercy is for those with a heart," Nikolai said. "You tore mine out the day you took him from me. Pray that we find him."

***

"This belongs to you, sir."

***

Price watched the drills in the parade square outside and wondered whether the drill sergeant noticed the trooper lagging slightly out of step in the third row.

The medics had cleared him to leave. There was a pamphlet about PTSD shoved in the side pocket of his bag, and he had weekly meetings with the base psychologist until they were happy he wasn't going to snap at the wrong moment. He wasn't sure what the road forward looked like, or how to even take the first step, but there was one person who he knew he wanted to be there when he did.

The door behind him opened and Price turned. The man that stood in the doorway was leaner than he remembered, his black hair cut in a military-short back and sides he hadn't seen for nearly a decade. Nikolai looked knackered, no better than Price did, which was understandable given what Price had been told.

Nik walked in tentatively, as if he felt like he was intruding, and that cut Price down to the quick. If there was one fuckin' person he had wanted to see all this time, it was the weary Russian pilot currently stood before him. He surged forward, wrapping his arms around Nik's broad chest and burying his face in his shoulder. Nik squeezed him back, just as desperate.

They held each other in the quiet, confirming, checking they weren't dreaming, until finally Price pulled away to study Nik's face. "Yer hair looks shit," he croaked.

Nik smiled, just as lopsided as Price remembered. "And your beard is bad."

"Least I had an excuse," Price said, scratching at the scruffy stubble on his jaw.

Nik's eyes saddened. "As did I." He lifted a hand and cupped Price's face, bringing their foreheads together. "My life ended when I lost you."

"Ya didn't lose me. Ya found me, didn'tcha? Tore the world to pieces, Simon said."

"My hands got dirty, John," Nik rasped.

"Dirty so that my men could stay clean.'

Nik lifted his face away, studying Price's eyes, looking for condemnation, anger, disgust. He would find none of it, Price was certain. All he felt in that moment was gratitude, relief, exhaustion.

"Laswell has agreed to waive my arrest warrant," Nik said, clearing his throat. "Under the agreement that I am to retire when we have defeated Makarov."

"Sounds fair. I've always thought ye'd make a good stay at home husband."

Nik looked startled, and Price leaned in to kiss the stupid look right off his face. Bewilderment broke into relieved laughter, and then eventually tears. Price held Nikolai's face to his shoulder as the sobs shuddered through his body.

"S'olright, I'm home."

[mimisempai]

The daggers

Summary

A dagger can be sharp, so let's not talk about two daggers... but despite its sharpness, it can sometimes be the tangible proof of an unbreakable bond.

Mobius kept Loki's daggers. He carries them with him at all times, and locks them up in the evening after taking care of them. The only physical evidence of Loki's presence in his life.

But the daggers are also a daily reminder of the gaping hole the god's absence has dug in Mobius' heart.

For @rin-love-is-green

For the @lokiusbang Story based on @rin-love-is-green prompt and beautiful drawings you'll see through the story on Ao3 ann on her tumblr Beta'ed by Sabine

4/4 chapters - 6045 words Rating : G

The rapid tapping of keys echoed through the dimly lit open office of the T.V.A. as Mobius hunched over his desk, his eyes glued to the glowing screen. He was putting the finishing touches on the mission report he and his team had just completed. 

Another timeline repaired, and he felt a sense of satisfaction that the T.V.A., once on the verge of collapse, was coming back to life, giving meaning to the lives connected to its intricate network of timelines. Each mission accomplished was a small patch on the immense wound left by the revelation of all the lives the T.V.A. had previously cut short. All the lies.

"Hey, Mobius!" 

Casey's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, the agent always bright and cheerful now. He was standing by Mobius's desk, a broad smile on his face as he continued, "It's good to see the T.V.A. up and running again. I'm glad to be more involved in missions now, while I'm still here of course, I'm not cut out for field operations, I'll leave that to you guys. But I'm happy to be a force you can count on."

Mobius gave him a small smile in return. 

"Yes, things are looking up. Who would have thought that the T.V.A. debacle would reveal the hidden talents of some of our team members, hm?"

Mobius winked at him before adding, "People we'd barely noticed before. Make no mistake, you're a force we know we can count on, Casey."

Casey smiled happily.

"Well, I have to go, good night Mobius, see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow, Casey."

Casey walked away under Mobius' amused gaze and disappeared down the hallway with a final wave of his hand.

Before Mobius could resume his work, O.B. appeared, a whirlwind of ideas and excitement, and as always, Mobius could only listen.

"Mobius! You've got to come see me tomorrow. I have a concept for a new device that could..."

"A new concept?"

Mobius raised an eyebrow and O.B. nodded quickly, "Oh, it's revolutionary! You'll understand when you see it, but it's about adding a principle of..."

"O.B. Mobius doesn't have time to listen to this!"

It was Casey who had returned, and Mobius watched their interaction with an interested and amused eye.

"But what if it's vital to what happens next!"

"Yes, I know, but he doesn't have time now."

"But..."

"I have time now, so why don't you come and explain it to me."

"But I..."

"Over a meal in the cafeteria."

"Casey..."

"I'm sure you skipped lunch again."

O.B., seeing that he wouldn't have the last word, sighed.

"All right..."

"Come on, let's go."

Casey and O.B. said together, "Bye Mobius!" and then left the open office. As they walked away, Mobius heard their conversation fade away.

"So O.B. tell me about this new concept?"

"Well, you know, Casey, I was just thinking..."

Mobius realized how much things had changed around here. His two friends and colleagues had grown closer and Mobius wondered just how close, a strange knot forming in his stomach. What was behind their camaraderie? Was it just friendship or something deeper, something unfolding like the mysterious timelines they so often crossed?

Like what he had with... what he could have had with...

Read the complete story here on Ao3

Lokius masterlist : here

[drdtappreciation]

I love how the DRDT fandom makes all these fun themed events around making art and fics and stuff! I have trouble getting myself to do things with no deadline, and having to post on a specific date helps me be a lot more productive.

I love being able to see people make super cool new DRDT stuff by creatively answering prompts it’s so amazing!! You know DRDT is good when it inspires so many cool pieces of art.

There’s actually an event right now (Nov. 9th and 10th) for acevid that I’m having fun with! And I love that there’s finally a DRDT event with Ace specifically involved, since he’s my favorite. And DRDT is the reason I get to have fun at these events in the first place!

So anyways yeah DRDT is cool and brings me great joy directly and indirectly.

^

[puck-luck]

jack, hearts & prompt 18 pls! cant wait to read :)

Warnings: mutual masturbation WC: 418

Your favorite thing to do with Jack is absolutely nothing. Most of the time, absolutely nothing involves laying on your bed or your couch and watching TV or reading together. Today, absolutely nothing started with laying in bed together, but devolved into a session of mutual masturbation. You’re not really sure if it counts as mutual masturbation– it’s not really masturbation. Jack has his hands on you, touching your tits and your cunt, and you’ve got a hand on his cock. 

“This is so much better than Outer Banks,” Jack notes, drawing his fingers out of you slowly before plunging them back in. 

“God, not you complaining about OBX again,” you reply, adding a twist around his tip when you pump him. 

Jack’s stomach flexes at the change and he lets out a low groan. “I can’t help that the show has gone downhill since the first few seasons,” he says. “Plus– oh– you’re the one who insists on watching it.”

“You didn’t tell me no,” you argue back. You’re starting to strip his cock faster, just to make it more difficult for him to complain about your show.

“‘Cause I never tell you no,” Jack says. His hips twitch under your ministrations.

You let out a hmph of complaint, but drop it. It’s true that Jack never tells you no– not because he can’t, but because he never wants to. Then, you hit a stroke of genius. “So you want me to stop?” You loosen your grip on Jack’s cock.

“Fuck no,” Jack replies immediately, bucking his hips up until you giggle and take hold of him properly. “I could do this all day. Definitely all night. You close?”

“Not close enough,” you jibe back, clenching down on his fingers. “You need to work harder if you want me to come. Are you close?”

“Well, now I feel bad saying yes,” Jack complains. “Slow down.”

“Absolutely not.” You only increase your pace, which has Jack groaning and speeding up himself. You lean in and press a chaste kiss to his lips. “If you make me come first, I’ll let you do this ‘all night.’”

Jack sighs and turns into your touch, getting better leverage. He gets his mouth on your neck, then your tits. Your free hand finds his hair and pets through the strands, putting your lips on the crowd of his head as he continues fucking his fingers into your heat. He’s reinvigorated at the promise of doing this all night.

Jack is so easy.

[onmyo-jin]

Guess who wrote all that before watching ep 17! Guess who immediately had to write more after watching episode 17 and drying my tears! Which I suppose makes this snippet for @echo-story as well^^ Just like last time I'm still taking prompts! Unlikely last time I will actually move on to the prompts people have sent already 💜

Since he showed the scars on his back at the gates to Kunlun mountain, Zhao Yuanzhou has never once tried to hide them. He has also not breathed a word about them since that they, simply acting like they are not there at all.

Eight scars.

Eigh long years.

Those same eight years have left their marks on Yichen, but all those marks were left against his will, not by choice. To choose that reminder, not once but many times? Zhou Yichen wonders at the strength behind that, fears for the pain behind that. 

Words are hard for him, always have been, but he hopes that his actions have at least shown that he is willing to accept, even if forgiveness is not (not yet) something he can offer. As they prepare for bed he catches another glimpse of those scars, this time in a mirror behind Zhao Yuanzhou, and he cannot help but stare. (Preparing for bed tonight involves fighting off repeated attempts at teasing kisses, as they have better things to do tonight than playing around– tomorrow will be an ungodly early start, and Zhao Yuanzhou is hard enough to wake even after sunrise. Only threats of dunking iced water on him to wake him tomorrow have made him cease his bothering. Which of course means that he is now trying to tempt Yichen to continue what he just made Zhao Yuanzhou stop doing.)

"Enjoying the view, Xiao Zhuo-daren?" Zhao Yuanzhou teases, probably assuming Yichen is staring at his indecently uncovered chest instead of his back. He is in his inner robe, just barely, draping it from one shoulder in an impractical fashion he probably thinks is alluring. Yichen will not be admitting that he is right. Few things escape the demon's notice, and for anything else Yichen would assume he was posing in front of the mirror on purpose as well. But not for those scars.

"No," he answers absently, and gets to see Zhao Yuanzhou pout in a way that is more adorable than he has any right to be. He turns a shoulder to him when Zhou Yichen steps close, pretending that his answer hurt him. It gives Yichen the opening he needs, and he wraps an arm around the demon's waist to pull him close, his naked back close to Yichen's chest, the heat of him obvious even through Zhou Yichen's clothing.

"Don't think that I will forgive you so easily, daren–" his breath freezes in his mouth in a quiet gasp when Zhou Yichen leans in close and presses his lips, his acceptance, against the closest scar he can reach. Under his lips the skin is heated, the texture of the scar unusually smooth against the demon's already smooth skin. He bites the small ridge of it, softly tests it with his teeth, and is rewarded with another gasp from Zhao Yuanzhou.

"Zhou Yichen-!"

"Tell me to stop," he murmurs, an earnest offer. He's not even sure what he's doing, why the evidence of his demon's repentance pulls on him with such force, but he doesn't want to harm Zhao Yuanzhou– not this night. Absentmindedly he moves down the scar, alternating bites and kisses, receiving more little sounds from Zhao Yuanzhou in return. No request to stop follows. Those soft little sighs are his only answer.

Zhou Yichen takes it as acceptance.

ZYZ + ZYC = 20. Kiss on a scar ♥️

Amazing choice, thank you! This one went a little maudling...

I'm still taking prompts! You can find the full list here, or feel free to make up a fun addition to the list~

Zhao Yuanzhou forgets at times how easily humans scar. How they carry the visual, visceral evidence of their defeats or their victories on their bodies for the entirety of their short lifespans. He shudders at the thought: if one had to wear one's scars for life, at his age he might be covered in scars. It's probably for the best he can heal himself as well as he can.

Next to him on the bed Zhou Yichen sleeps on, unaware he is being watched so carefully. He claims he sleeps better when someone is with him, and to his credit Zhao Yuanzhou hasn't seen him have any nightmares on any of the nights they spent together. If he makes sure to thoroughly exhaust Zhou Yichen before he falls asleep, well, one does what one must to help a friend avoid nightmares.

The sweat they worked up together has since dried on Yichen's skin, but the smell of them still lingers in the room. These quiet moments feel like a luxury, and he would wake Yichen to share the moment, but waking him would break the moment too, and Yichen would not appreciate being woken for anything other than an emergency.

So Zhao Yuanzhou luxuriates in the peace alone, remembering the scars that cross Yichen's shoulders, the one round arrow scar next to his navel, the barely-visible scars on his hands. To say Zhou Yichen isn't self conscious about them would be a lie, but he forgets to hide himself between moans and sighs as they spend an evening in each other's company. It is only afterwards that he remembers, and they both pretend Zhao Yuanzhou hasn't long seen the past Yichen carries with him on his skin, like he didn't kiss the same expanse of flesh moments or hours ago.

Zhou Yichen rolls onto his side, his back now to Zhao Yuanzhou. Normally Zhao Yuanzhou would take this opportunity to lie down beside him, to pull him close, and fit them together in a way that will help him trap Yichen in bed come morning. Tonight, instead, he sits up, leaning on one hand as he reaches out and slides Yichen's shirt off his shoulder.

Lean muscles shrug in response to the cold, but Zhou Yichen doesn't wake. Instead he curls in on himself, pushing his back closer to Zhao Yuanzhou's warmth. In the moonlight the visible scars gleam like pearls, like treasures instead of imperfections.

Zhao Yuanzhou can't help himself– and why should he? He is a demon, after all. He leans in close, running a hand under Yichen's arm and to his chest to hold him in place (to hold him close), and presses a soft trail of kisses along one ridged scar, and down another. Zhou Yichen stirs, but wakes only slowly. Still languid from their earlier efforts, he only moves far enough to open one eye and stare balefully but sleepily and Zhao Yuanzhou.

"What are you doing, you ridiculous demon?"

"Hmm, I'm having my wicked way with you, can't you tell, Xiao Zhuo-daren?" Zhao Yuanzhou teases, lips barely releasing the marked skin under them to form the words.

"Why do you like them so much?" Yichen doesn't even respond to the teasing. It's no fun, except for the fact that Zhao Yuanzhou vividly remembers how he caused his current exhaustion. He finally relents his kisses, and settles down with his chest to Yichen's back, head propped up on one arm to lean over him- to be able to kiss him properly.

"I find it fascinating, the way you humans carry your past with you." 

Judging by his frown, Yichen is not moved by his kiss. "And must you enact this fascination in the middle of the night?"

"Would you prefer I do it during the day instead?" He replies in mock-surprise. They both know the answer to that, and Yichen pulls him into a rough kiss just to shut him up.

"No. Now sleep, you great ape."

[bloggerspam]

Chapter 1: Beginning of an End

For @sheabeeprime and @uniasus for this year's @phicphight !

===

The thing about Fenton is that he’s not…..subtle. 

Star thinks about this as she watches him struggle with his locker. Kwan’s just about to offer to help—she can see it in her peripherals—before Fenton groans, looks left and right (completely missing them loitering across the hall directly behind him) and sticks his hand into the locker. 

He’s fiddling around with the lock, trying to unlock it, instead of doing the completely reasonable thing and just. Grabbing the thing he wanted to grab. Why bother with the lock at all if he’s just gonna stick his hand in anyway?

She and Kwan share a look at that. Kwan scratches the back of his head, looking around to see if anybody else could tell him what to do, before settling on her pleadingly. 

She sighs, shaking her head and closing her eyes against the headache that she feels coming on. It’s Senior Year. You’d think after 3 years, Fenton would get better at hiding, not worse. 

But then again…it did take the majority of Casper High a year to even realize something was wrong with the boy.

She thinks about that, before correcting herself. There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s just….not all right either. She shakes her head, walking off to the nearest classroom door. It’s early in the morning so the halls are still relatively empty. Star and Kwan are only here because of morning practice. 

She wonders, idly, why Fenton is so early. He’s usually late, but then again the ghosts have been getting better about leaving him alone these days. Fenton’s lost those wretched eye-bags he kept carrying around like Paulina and her prada bags. 

She opens the door softly, placing Kwan in front of her and placing her hand on his broad back, as if pushing him out. She slams the door behind her, pushing Kwan who blessedly goes with it. 

“Star! What’s the rush?” Fenton jumps, yanking his hand out and inadvertently tripping the locker open. 

“We’re gonna be late to practice.” She says, primly. 

“Alright alright, oh, hey Fentino.” Kwan chuckles, as they pass by Danny. 

He flinches, picking up the books that spilled out. “Hey, Kwan. Star.” 

He starts pulling at his sleeves, always long sleeved nowadays, but no sleeve is long enough to cover the scars that litter his wrists and fists. She gives him a sweet smile, staunchly ignoring the way his answering nervous smile has too many teeth. 

“Morning Danny. See you later.” She stops pushing at Kwan to pull up beside him. He takes her hand, squeezing it gently as they make their way down the hall. Just before they turn the corner she sees Danny stare at his hand in fear. He flexes it, and she notices that it has claws, before they disappear and he breathes out a shakey sigh.

“It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” Kwan says softly. She looks up at him, and his sad far away stare. 

She doesn’t want to answer–doesn’t want to face the truth of it. But this is Kwan.

“Yes.” Of all the A-listers, she’s the only one that seems to be on neutral terms with Danny, and the only one who see exactly how many times it’s been a close call. 

His hand squeezes hers, and the rest of the walk to practice is deathly silent. Because what can you say to that? Nothing. 

She squeezes back. 

[stars-obsession-pit]

Danny Phantom finds John Constantine’s trenchcoat floating around in the Ghost Zone, having accumulated enough magical effects to form its own ghostly entity upon its “death” (it being destroyed somehow).

Thus, Danny decides to help the coat make its way back to reunite with its human. He figures it shouldn’t take too long, and he does like helping people. Plus, the whole situation will make a hilarious story to tell his friends later.

[shy-raccoon]

The damsel in distress slowly starts getting more and more unstable from the unaddressed trauma of being frequently kidnapped. One day they completely snap and the villains start being found mysteriously murdered with increasing brutality.

[cuttlefishink]

Serireiweek Day 3: Flowers / Music

💐Aster — love and patience💐

Something something metaphor for personal growth and being able to bloom into your best self regardless of how much time it takes to get there :)

I also saw something about the perfume from burning the leaves of the aster flower being able to drive away evil spirits so 👀

[hypewinter]

Danny messes up big time on a mission to the past for Clockwork. How does he mess up you may ask? Well he ends up getting ceremonially buried as a death god in ancient Egypt. Yes, he is embarrassed about the whole scenario thank you for asking.

To make matters worse, they doused him in blood blossom oils. Not enough to kill him, but enough to weaken him big time and put him in a deep sleep. Danny spends the next couple of thousands of years sleeping the blood blossom oil off. He wakes up just in time for his tomb to be opened by a grumpy guy in a trench coat, a weird magician lady, and a ghost dressed in red spandex. Nope, he was not dealing with that. He rolled over and went back to sleep.

The JLD had been running around chasing after green sticky notes for weeks. They finally found this hidden ancient tomb with a lot of inscriptions pertaining to the dead. When they finally enter the inner most chamber, they find a young boy resting on top of an altar. He's definitely not dead because if he was, he would have long since decomposed. However at the same time, he's not breathing.

In the middle of their discussion on how to proceed, a familiar green sticky note floats down from nowhere. It reads "He'll be a wonderful addition." What? Constantine instantly pulls out a sigil and teleports away muttering something about needing a drink, Deadman goes to investigate the kid, and Zatana just sighs. This was about to be a long day.

[help-i-need-a-cool-username]

Justice League meet the Batfam au fic BUT the secret only gets out because Batman had a choice between staying quiet or acting on a truly golden opportunity to embarrass his son and like any father he chose embarrassment

[deepwaterwritingprompts]

Deep Water Prompt #3380

Our wars have sunk so many gold laden ships in the sea, that gold has become prized currency for the creatures down there. An entirely new breed of pirate arises for us to contend with.

[crustyfloor]

Luka is very good at keeping himself composed on stage, mostly with the help of maintaining track of his heart rate, but during Mizi's attack in ROMH he seemed to slip up, not only was the red background a tell-tale sign of Mizi's violent intentions but it was a more symbolic way of showing Luka in quite visceral fear. Even if for only a second.

I'm not convinced Luka will be as continuously calculated as he normally comes off, it all seems too fake to me. Because it is. It’s a similar case to Ivan who can't feel, isn't normal, isn't human enough so he makes a persona to blend in. So Luka, whoever he is, makes this version of himself to cope with what he has to live through, pretending like he's on top of it all to survive in this world.

So in round 7, I think something drastic will happen to make him 'snap' in a way.

It's safe to say that we don't know Luka. We don't know who he really is. We don't know his real desires. But we do know one thing--he is scared. he is afraid of the aliens. That's why he appeases them--being their trophy. He's only kept around for his purpose as an entertainer and nothing else and he's very aware of that. He knows very well that a dented trophy will be discarded; with that mindset, he's been able to get so far, and he's scared of losing. That's why he holds any little thing he can get his hands on close. And an important extension of that fear is his fear of losing power.

Till should be the more likely in this position, given he's such a rebel. But isn't that just too predictable? Keep in mind, that Till is a strong person. Even after all he's been through, even after he's been beaten into something more manageable for the aliens--He still hasn't lost his spark. Till is a raging storm. subdued but nonetheless a force to be reckoned with.

Round 6's effect on Till is greatly ambiguous for now but at this point when the time for round 7 comes, Till has been put through so much hell. Whatever Luka does to provoke him probably won't work, he and Luka are equally talented individuals and will make for an intense battle, and at the end of the day, the numbers won't lie. Exactly that is what Luka is ready for but scared of--a worthy opponent for the throne. Someone capable of stripping him of his power. (Is fear what makes Luka so dismissive?)

It would be so aggravating that this 'pest'. who is so indignant, so rebellious (in a way Luka envies.), could so easily destroy everything Luka has worked for, disregard every pain Luka has been through to get to this point, and Till doesn't value this throne as much as Luka does, and Luka doesn't want to feel the pain of death anymore. If his facade is as destructible as I think it is, that will be what ultimately brings out Luka.

This idea may be flawed. Luka is so perfect, too perfect and confident and experienced for something as little as that to break him, just think of all the training Luka went through to get to this point. I'm positive he's very aware of what playing unfairly will lead to. But isn't there always room for a wild card?

Just remember what happened to Hyun-woo.

What happened here isn't fully explained (and probably will be in round 7) but imagine Luka: "Trophy child, goody two shoes" Luka possibly killing another human. Whether by accident or not, what happened?--what and how did Luka feel in the moment for the repercussions of whatever happened to be that bad?

A Luka that is secretly greatly insecure, pliable, and defensive enough that in a spur of emotions, he can’t help but lose his cool in a way he hasn’t in a while because he’s afraid—just to try and prove he is still valuable. That is the type of character I theorize we'll come to see in round 7.

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 12th: Soulmates | Eight - Sleeping at Last | Perceptive a/n: steddie, soulmates au (phillia + eros). eddie & jeff as platonic soulmates, stobin soulmates mentioned always. un-betaed because I’m challenging myself to write these in under an hour. read on ao3 | link to masterpost on ao3

Soulmates, Eddie scoffs to himself as he doodles in his notebook at the back of the coffee shop. Bullshit. 

He knows it’s actually not, that people walk around every day hand-in-hand with beautiful, swirling tattoos that grow in intricacy and detail the more time they spend with their soulmate. Most days, Eddie doesn’t mind that the simple snake design on the inside of his wrist never so much as slithers, but today? Today, he minds. 

Dating in the world of soulmates is challenging. He tries to just focus on how feels, on if the person sitting across from him is compatible with his lifestyle, on if there’s any kind of spark, but it’s inevitable that at some point, both he and his date look down at their wrists to find nothing. 

His coffee date had gone well enough but, like always, was a dead-end. How many paths can one person try before the destination seems moot? 

So he sits and scribbles in his notebook, hoping that perhaps staying in the coffee shop rather than returning home to the apartment he shares with Jeff will provide some inspiration. That tattoo, the one that’d started as a small star on his ankle, has grown into a whirling galaxy since moving in with Jeff– a philia connection if he’s ever seen one. But if his eros tattoo won’t build upon itself naturally, he’ll do it manually with a tattoo gun. 

It also helps that the barista is perhaps the most beautiful man Eddie’s ever laid eyes on, enough so that it’s… actually a little intimidating, if he’s being honest with himself. Intimidating to the point that Eddie’s yet to approach him for a refill since the girl who’d given him his first sugary abomination finished her shift. Besides, the mystery barista must’ve already found his soulmate. His entire left arm, from fingertip to at least his elbow, is covered in delicate, colorful designs that twist and wind about his skin, curling around each finger and looping gracefully up his arm.

I can still enjoy the view, he justifies to himself, taking a sip from his cup and remembering for the third time that it’s empty. 

He sighs and sets it back down, clearing his throat. It’s as good a time as any, he supposes, as he stands from his little corner table by the window and strolls across the room to the counter. 

“Hi, what can I get started for ya?” The barista asks, his name tag now visible and proclaiming Steve. 

“Uh,” he starts. “Salted caramel mocha, please?” 

Steve’s smile is bright and he leans on the counter, leveling it straight in Eddie’s direction. All Eddie wanted was a refill on his sweet treat disguised as coffee and instead, it feels as though he’s smacked in the head.

“Comin’ right up,” Steve replies, turning around to get his order going. “You’ve been sitting over there for a while, how’d that date go?” He asks with the confidence and familiarity of someone Eddie’s known his entire life. 

“Watching me, were you?” 

Steve grins over his shoulder, shrugging. “A little.” 

“I’m flattered. Well, I’m still here and they’re not so that oughta tell you everything.” 

Steve hums and turns back to the machine, finishing up his order. Eddie’s heart beats rhythmically, somehow slowing and quickening all at once and his lungs feel buoyed by something more powerful than his breath. When Steve faces him again and hands him his cup, exchanging it for the empty one in Eddie’s hand, they both freeze. 

Eddie’s snake begins to move. 

A clear, serpentine movement at the center as small, geometric lines begin to appear in the background. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie whispers, setting his full cup down so he doesn’t spill it. 

“Yeah, holy shit.” Steve places his other arm on the counter, the blank one, and Eddie sees that it’s not blank. There’s a small, barebones tree on his forearm whose leaves begin to blossom and shake, different shades of greens and oranges appearing before his eyes. 

“But– your other arm?” Eddie chokes out, eyes flickering between his own wrist, Steve’s forearm, and Steve’s other, fuller arm. 

“Philia. That’s Robin. But this one, this is eros.” Steve smiles again, matching the one Eddie can feel spreading across his own face as he looks up from his forearm. “I’m Steve.”

Steve smiles again, matching the one Eddie can feel spreading across his own face as he looks up from his forearm. Eddie looks in wonderment, searching for any sign of lie or trickery in Steve’s eyes and finds nothing but warmth and familiarity. 

“I’m Eddie.”

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

It's weird to expect lb to be able to read cn mind and called her a bad partner for it. But it's even weirder for lb to ignore cn WHEN HES OBVIOUSLY IN DISTRESS and not called her a bad partner for it because I think called her a bad partner for ignoring it is understandable and justified especially since she consider herself as his boss.

Every time I bring up this conflict, I try to make it clear that I don't think Ladybug was blameless, I just think Chat Noir's writing was worse. Let's walk through the problem to show what I mean.

Season four stars with Marinette extremely stressed by her new Guardian status. In Truth and Lies, the first episodes of the season, we get this:

Ladybug: Will you cut it out with the practical jokes? I could have really hurt you! Cat Noir:(answering while hanging by the yo-yo) M'lady, the only thing that really hurts me is when you make me go on patrol by myself. (sighs, relaxing his posture) I even missed your little angry pout. Ladybug: Sorry, Kitty Cat, I'm a bit over my head at the moment. (pulling him up) Cat Noir: I bet! "Guardian of the Miraculous", big name, big responsibility!

This is also the start to Chat Noir communicating poorly. In this episode, he's straight up told that Ladybug is in over her head and he never once asks how he can help. In fact, we even get him saying this when asked how he feels about the change:

Truth: Cat Noir, tell me what- (interupted by Ladybug throwing a present at Truth) Ladybug: (covering her parasol with foil) ...do you think about my new role as guardian! Cat Noir: If it doesn't change things between us, then I'm good with it!

So not a great start to the season. I know people focused on Adrien's terrible treatment of Kagami in these episodes, but this Ladynoir dynamic was actually what rang alarm bells for me. I kept waiting for Chat Noir to offer his support since it was really, really obvious that Ladybug was in over her head since she was late to patrols, the last season literally ended with her losing her mentor figure, and, you know, she straight up told him that was what was going on?

The next episode is Gang of Secrets in which we see Marinette out her identity to Alya. I get why she did this, she needed support and her partner doesn't seem interested in giving it, but she can't say that for certain because she never asked him directly and she should have. Trusting Chat Noir over Alya would have allowed Ladynette to maintain the security of her secret identity - a thing she claimed was more important than ever - and to honor their partnership. At the very least, she should have told Chat Noir that Rena Rouge was now a full time holder so that he could account for that in battle and to minimize the fallout by owning up to her mistake asap. The longer a lie goes on, the worse the truth will hurt.

To Ladybug's credit, she does eventually acknowledge her mistake after the Scarabella incident:

Ladybug: You... must've been pretty surprised to discover there was another holder! (Silence. She sits beside Cat Noir.) Ladybug: I'm really sorry, Cat Noir. I should've told you. I mean, if I found out that you told someone about your secret identity, I'd... probably be upset, too. I'm really sorry I hurt your feelings.

This is a decent apology. She doesn't try to absolve herself of wrong doing. Instead, she acknowledges that what she did would hurt her, too, if the shoe were on the other foot. The only thing she loses points on is the fact that she doesn't tell him about Rena Furtive.

However, instead of agreeing with her and telling her that she has hurt him, Chat Noir says that she did nothing wrong and never once brings up how their weakened partnership is bothering him:

Cat Noir: You didn't hurt my feelings. You did everything right. Paris will always need a Ladybug superhero to watch over her. It's just... I realized that if one day that hero wasn't you, m'lady, since we don't know each other's identities, that means... I'd never see you again. Ever. And now, I just don't know if I can bear it.

This is the thing that I hate about this arc. The reason why I say Ladybug is blamed for not reading his mind. Especially because, three episodes later, we get Rocketear, which gives us this:

Cat Noir: Everyone has doubts now and then, (looks down) even me... Ladybug: Is everything okay, Cat Noir? Cat Noir: Yeah, yeah. (prepare his fist) Pound it! Ladybug: (fistbumps) Pound it!

Rocketear is the episode where Nino outs that he and Alya know each other's identities while acting like Ladybug said identities weren't a big deal even though that is very much not what happened. You'd think that Chat Noir would want to know the full story, but instead he just lies and says that everything is fine.

So we have two situations where the show allowed Ladybug to give Chat Noir a chance for clear and open communication and both times he turns her down.

What's worse is that he clearly starts making up stories in his head, leading to Kuro Neko, which starts with Adrien avoiding a fight on purpose as some sort of shit test. He then gets upset when Ladybug... doesn't lament his absence on national TV?

Clara: (from TV) By the way, where's Cat Noir? You've saved Paris without him quite a few times recently. Are you two at odds with each other? Carapace, Pegasus, Vesperia and Pigella: (from TV) Pound it! Ladybug: (from TV) Of course not, it's just that... umm, he's a partner like any other! The most important is to pick the best superheroes for each mission, with or without Cat Noir. No matter what, we've got a great team and we'll always be here to save Paris. (Adrien is shocked.) Adrien: (turns off the TV and sighs) "A partner like any other..."

Dude, what did you want her to do here? Complain that you flaked on her? Make Paris feel less safe by saying she doesn't know where you are? Imply that the fight was barely won without you? What are you doing? Plagg, you are completely failing as a mentor right now.

The shit test continues as Chat Noir goes to meet up with Ladybug now that the battle is over, arriving just as Ladybug has finished instructing the team on what to do:

Ladybug: Come on, guys! Hurry up before you all detransform. I'll meet you at rendezvous points. (The heroes jump away in different directions, and Ladybug starts typing something on her Yo-yo.) Cat Noir: Hey! Meow are you, m'lady? Ladybug: Great, thanks, but I gotta go retrieve all these Miraculous. Cat Noir: I could lend you a paw to help save time. Ladybug: Thanks, kitty cat, but it's a guardian's job to do it. Cat Noir: I know who some of them are, remember? I was there when you first gave them their Miraculous! Ladybug: You don't even know where their rendezvous points are, I don't have time to— Cat Noir: Playing cat and mouse is my forte, you know— Ladybug: (yelling) If you wanna save me time, stop wasting it in the first place! (Cat Noir gasps. As Ladybug swings away, Cat Noir clenches his fist.) Cat Noir: And take my Miraculous back when you're done!

So Ladybug doesn't publicly chastise Chat Noir for missing the battle and rejects an offer to help because of very legitimate timing concerns, leading to Chat Noir quitting because she failed his stupid, petty, childish tests. Realistic writing? Yes. Writing that paints Ladybug as the one in the wrong? No.

Going into this episode, Ladybug has no idea that things are messed up between them even though she has actually kept communication lines open. She asks him if things are okay, but he lies. And when he's ready to quit? He plays stupid games and wins a stupid prize. It's really not shocking that the next scene sees Ladybug totally baffled by what just happened:

Plagg: For a while now, you've been neglecting this camembert— I mean Cat Noir, and going on adventures with the all other cheeses! Ladybug: But he should be happy about it, it gives him more time off. Plagg: Cat Noir doesn't wanna have time off, Ladybug! He is in love with you! And your persistent calling on all the other heroes has broken his heart.

And how is she supposed to know that, Plagg? Was she supposed to assume that her partner was lying when he said he was fine? Because she did ask and he said that nothing was wrong. But something was wrong and it lead him to build up a story in his head, reading nonexistent intent into her actions, all of which is toxic and unhealthy communication.

I cannot stress how common this shit is. I've seen it so many times and I will own that I've done it in the past and wound up getting no support when I needed it because I'd directly told people I didn't and they committed the heinous crime of... believing me.

Here's the other thing, there are times when I'm in distress and legitimately don't want or need help. Times when I just need to be alone for a bit. So if someone asks me if I'm okay during those times, I'm probably just going to say, "Yeah, I just need a people break" or something like that. That's why the Scarabella scene is so bad. Ladybug can see that Chat Noir is in distress and he gives her a fully plausible answer: I'm not upset with you, I'm just saddened by the idea of losing you. And she believes him because why wouldn't she?

Same goes for Rocketear. It's reasonable for Ladybug to assume that Chat Noir is just shaken by the fight. She has no idea about the bombshell that Nino dropped right before the fight. She doesn't even know that Nino and Chat Noir are actually close friends, making this fight a lot more devastating than it looks at face value. Her actions here are not objectively wrong. They're only wrong if you know the whole story, including Adrien's needs. Things that she cannot know unless Chat Noir uses his words to tell her things.

I cannot over stress how much season four is a textbook example of denying yourself support because you cannot communicate your own needs. Is it an understandable character flaw for a character with Adrien's background to have? Yes. Absolutely. 100%. But it's still a character flaw. This season desperately needed an arc about Adrien learning to tell people what's wrong. Not because he's the only one in the wrong here, but because things cannot get better when Ladybug has no idea that she's hurting him. (Nino has no idea either, but let's keep our focus on Ladybug.)

One of the most important things you can do for your own mental well being is to dismiss the idea that your needs are the same as everyone else's. Everyone needs different amounts of attention and values different behavior based on things like their upbringing and life events.

I get the feeling that I'm wired pretty similar to Marinette. At least, it influences how I write her because I can go months without talking to my best friends and still call them my best friends, a trait we all share because two of use are artsy introverts and two of us are moms to young kids, which allows for very little free time. Meanwhile, my SO and his best friend spend hours on the phone almost every week. I swear that those two go into withdrawal if they don't talk at least once every seven days. If months went by without them talking? Something would be very wrong, but the exact same time gap isn't even remotely concerning when it comes to my friends. It's something my SO and I had to figure out when we got together because I need a lot less attention than he does. But we communicated and found a balance that we continue to work to communicate about so that he doesn't feel neglected and I don't feel overwhelmed by too little me time.

What I'm trying to say is Marinette wasn't horribly wrong for assuming that Chat Noir was telling her the truth or that he liked having a larger team so he had less responsibility. Those are reasonable assumptions. Especially since he never actually indicated that he wanted more responsibility until he was ready to quit and decided to shit test her by pushing for more to do when she was stressed and on a timer.

I do think that she should have offered it to him before that or - at the very least - the show should have clearly stated why she didn't do that since it apparently had nothing to do with Chat Blanc trauma like we all thought it did. I'm not saying that she's blameless or perfect or that there weren't things she could have done better. It's just really hard for me to look at Chat Noir's behavior in season four and go, "Oh yeah, he's the injured party here. Ladybug holds all the blame and did everything wrong." She did many things wrong, but generally speaking, she owned her faults and tried to keep communication channels open. Chat Noir chose to ignore those chances to talk or otherwise try to express his needs in a clear and understandable manner.

We'll end with one final point to drive this home: You said that she's his boss. Well, if my boss asked me, "is everything okay with the project?" and I said, "yes" while freaking out about the upcoming deadline that I'm probably going to miss because he's given me too much work, the issue is not all on my boss. It's on both of us. Him for overloading me and me for not telling him I'm overloaded. You could even argue that it's mostly on me because I'm the only one who can properly gauge my own ability to do a given workload. As soon as it was too much, I should have said something. And if I don't feel like my boss is approachable? Then I should quit. But that isn't the situation I'm in and it doesn't appear to be the one that Chat Noir was in, either. He wanted to stay part of the team, he just totally failed to tell Ladybug how being on the team was making him feel.

People magically knowing what you need and how you feel is a myth. I promise you, most people in this world do not want to cause you pain, but if you cannot clearly express when someone is causing you pain, then you will continue to get hurt by people who would be very happy to not hurt you if they actually knew that their actions were causing you pain.