#they’re truly so important to me and help me feel so much safer

[softskiesahead-moved]

I am Not going to cry I’m posting chihiro instead

[possiblyunhinged]

Okay, here’s my possibly unpopular opinion: when white women on TikTok go after other white women who vote for Trump, it feels kind of disingenuous—as if they’re shocked, when we all know exactly why those women voted that way... At least if we allow ourselves to truly think about the value systems we're brought up with.

I truly believe that it’s tied to how much we, as white women, have been socialised to center men in our lives.

I truly believe that white women who vote for Trump do so for the same reasons women follow Farage, Tommy Robinson, or Andrew Tate. It’s all about seeking validation from men. The opinions and approval of men are often the most important thing in their lives, to the point where male validation is basically treated like "God."

This isn’t just a superficial thing—it’s a value system that was drilled into them, whether directly or through action. The message they were given growing up was that male validation is the most important kind of validation you can get. And not just for self-esteem, but because it’s tied to safety. The idea is that getting that approval from men will somehow keep you safer from male violence and keep you in the good graces of the patriarchy.

This isn’t a new thing—it’s deeply rooted in how women, especially white women, have been raised. Growing up, the value we were taught to place on ourselves came from how men saw us—whether it was our family, friends, or society in general. That’s why a lot of women conform to beauty standards based on what men find attractive, and why they often don’t get progressive women, like those who reject traditional beauty ideals (you know, like "blue-haired" feminists).

I remember hearing a woman online talking about how her experience with racism also affected how she saw men. At the time, I thought it was obvious, but it really clicked for me: being a white woman has always been tied to how we interact with men and how much we internalize male perspectives. I used to think I was different from other girls because I didn’t want to be treated the way I saw women around me being treated. I didn’t want to be the girl who was dismissed or objectified, so I tried to distance myself from that.

Looking back, I can see how much of a girl’s worth was tied to how men viewed her—whether she was pretty enough, good enough, or "worthy" of male attention. It wasn’t just about looks; it was about getting approval or validation from men, even if it meant putting our own needs aside.

Yet again, I may be wrong. I'm as thick as pig mince, but I do feel that women’s worth being determined by men’s opinions helps explain why some white women vote for people like Trump. It’s about aligning with a system that promises power, security, and validation through male-dominated structures. For a lot of these women, it’s not just about politics—it’s about reinforcing their place in a system that elevates male perspectives.

We need to recognise that it’s not just about who they vote for—it’s about how deep these patriarchal norms go. It’s about understanding how women have been socialised to chase male validation in almost every aspect of our lives, from beauty standards to political beliefs. Once we realise that, we can start to see why some white women cling to these ideas, even when they seem so out of step with progressive values.

[thecandlesticksfromlesmis]

From a younger trans person, does it ever get better? do I cut out the people that make it hard? everything just feels really impossible rn

Yes, it does. It gets so much better. I won’t make it any more complicated than that. I know how insurmountable these hopeless feelings can seem, but there is light! Always, there is light!

The biggest things to chase after are mental health resources and community. Those two things will save you. Therapy is life changing, don’t shy away from it. Meds can be life changing if they’re recommended. A community, big or small, of people who know /you/, is priceless. Find that community through school, through clubs, through your local LGBTQ centers, or (very carefully) online.

If you live somewhere dangerous, my best advice is to lay low until you can get out. Those years of living in hiding will hurt, but it’s not worth risking your safety. There are many undercover gender affirming things you can do in the meantime! I’ve done them, they help. It is possible to live in the closet and wait until you can be in a safer place to come out.

Cutting people out of your life is hard. I think each person is a case by case basis. Sometimes it’s not worth the fallout, sometimes it very much is. I think mental health care is important here. A therapist can give you the tools to deal with folks that make your life harder. The set of rules that I use to guide who I let into my life and who I don’t was built by me with the help of a therapist, and it’s saved me from so much grief.

I promise, it gets better. It took around ten years for me to do everything I listed above, but those ten years were absolutely worthwhile . To be truly happy is a completely attainable feeling, I swear. The moment you feel it, and you will feel it, it makes everything that came before it feel worth the struggle.

Your life is worth fighting for.

I love you very much, my sibling 🏳️‍⚧️💙

[otmaaromanovas]

I love OTMA and I love learning about them, but sometimes I'm just overwhelmed with sadness thinking about them. When I think about their fate, it's so devastating to me, it's hard to describe it. Everything that could have been, destroyed. The more you learn, the sadder it is. I know their parents, grandparents, etc. were not perfect but I will never know how those men could look at those pure, kind, beautiful girls and do what they did. And to this day I still see people saying they "deserved" what happened to them just because they don't like the tsarist government. It's sick. Sometimes I think if I had a time machine, I would have spirited the children off to England before measles ever ruined their plans. I want to see so badly what they could have become, and knowing that I never will hurts something awful. I thought you'd know more than most where I'm coming from and how I'm feeling ❤️

I'm so sorry that this has been sitting in my inbox for months and I've only just got around to replying to it now! This ask made me think a lot - about OTMA, and also history in general.

History is bloody, it's cruel, and it's often so, so unfair. We wish we could go back and change the past, but no matter what we do, we can't. It's blunt, unchangeable, and uncomfortable. I know that feeling you describe all too well!

Yet through the darkness, something shines through the cracks: remembrance. Empires have risen and fallen, rulers have come and gone, but, often, it is the ordinary people that continue to live in our minds, simply because they are remembered - and they’re all truly just like us. Whether it's the doodles that a child did on his homework or the very first signature on a tablet: they were here. We really are not so different than the people who came before us.

I constantly find connections from the past to the present. A name shared with someone from the year 600, sepia photographs of a beloved pet, the same favourite perfume as a Grand Duchess. Centuries apart but drawn together by history. They live on through us, and remembrance is an important part of that. Making sure the next generation has all of that history, and more.

All of this to say that... we can't change the past. It's a sad fact. But we can remember it. When we remember someone, or an event, or whatever it is in history that is important to you, it lives on. So much of history has been lost because it hasn't survived, so tell your stories! Write down your thoughts! Talk about the people you love, the people you have lost. They're still they're with you. Every single person on this earth, whether it is today or thousands of years ago, is apart of the most special club of all: being apart of history. It doesn't matter if you're a king and live in a palace, or a student in a studio flat in the middle of the suburbs, or the little bumblebee that flies around the flowers, weaving in and out of the grass like how history weaves through time. We’re all important.

Another part of history is that it confronts us with tragedy. We look at these horrible things that have happened and think to ourselves, how could people have stood by and let this happen? Why didn't anybody do something? As I said, we can't change the past, but we can change the future. The people of the past are just like us. We’re just like them. But - we can learn from their crimes and build a better and safer, free, world. When you can, speak up, take action, help to form a world which, in hundreds of years time, historians won’t read about it and be confronted by that same uncomfortable feeling that we experience today. Use that frustration, that sadness, and change the world for the better.

[edenmemes]

ghost of tsushima starters

❝ promise you’ll remain the good man i know. ❞   ❝ only fools have no fear of death. ❞   ❝ i am very much alive. but my patience is dying. ❞   ❝ i’ll make sure you are remembered. as a great warrior...a wise leader. ❞   ❝ the strength we need is all around us. ❞   ❝ the past cannot hurt you. ❞   ❝ this whole journey, and i never asked your name. ❞   ❝ fear drives you to be stronger. fight harder. ❞ ❝ sometimes...our only choice is to walk away from everything we know ❞ ❝ we do what we must. that is why you and i are both survivors. ❞ ❝ i can do good! i just...need practice. ❞ ❝ may your next life be more peaceful than this one. ❞ ❝ i knew it was too good to be true. ❞ ❝ i'll see what i can do. but if you’re lying to me... ❞ ❝ you’re too comfortable with that power. ❞ ❝ don’t ever try to kill me again. ❞ ❝ turn your back on a foe...and you will die with a sword stuck in it. ❞ ❝ youre not slipping away that easily. ❞ ❝ just stay closed. keep your sword sheathed. and let me do the talking. ❞ ❝ the things i saw still haunt my nightmares. ❞ ❝ i dont even know if you're real. ❞ ❝ victories don’t have to feel good. ❞   ❝ killing your own family...it’s harder than you could ever imagine. ❞   ❝ it’s safer for everyone if i just disappear. ❞   ❝ next time, leave some glory for the rest of us. ❞   ❝ peace doesn’t always come quietly. ❞   ❝ some people respond to kindness. others require a glimpse of steel. ❞ ❝ i am nothing if not honest. ❞ ❝ stop using people, and start thinking about how you can help them. ❞ ❝ you’ve had your vengeance. don’t stand in the way of mine. ❞ ❝ you don’t have to do it alone. ❞ ❝ not all words need to be spoken. ❞   ❝ there is time yet for revenge. i will savour their cries of pain when that time comes. ❞ ❝ i have learned to love the cool, damp dark. ❞ ❝ the last thing i saw was faces filled with hatred, rage... ❞ ❝ you didn’t think you'd get rid of me that easily, did you? ❞ ❝ we will celebrate when this is all over. ❞ ❝ what’s wrong with you? one moment we stand shoulder-to-shoulder, the next you’re ready to cross blades. ❞ ❝ a warrior learns from their mistakes, or they are buried by them. ❞ ❝ remember your training...and never leave my side. ❞ ❝ well...i guess this is goodbye. ❞ ❝ your visions will grow worse, driving you to madness and death. ❞ ❝ i can only pretend for so much longer. i’m not like these people and never will be. ❞ ❝ i loved you all my life, but i could never work up the courage to tell you. ❞ ❝ the proud do not last, and the mightiest of us perish like dust before the wind. ❞ ❝ you’re a vision of mercy. ❞ ❝ not bad, but only half-good. ❞ ❝ we make a good team, don’t we? ❞ ❝ an archer’s aim relies not on eyes...but on body, mind, and spirit. �� ❝ this is my fight. i don’t need your weapon. ❞ ❝ being right doesn’t always make things better. ❞ ❝ there is nothing easier than to prey upon the vanity of ambitious men. ❞ ❝ you weren’t looking so good. i let you rest. ❞ ❝ your intentions this time were...better than usual. ❞ ❝ what are you not telling me? ❞ ❝ trouble sticks to you like shit on rice. ❞ ❝ it’s strange being back after so many years...everywhere i look brings back memories. ❞ ❝ only a child expects perfection of their elders. ❞ ❝ when this is all over, what will you do? ❞ ❝ you are ruled by your emotion. ❞ ❝ is this how you want to be remembered? ❞ ❝ perhaps great men share all the aspects of their lessers, but more. great wisdom, but even greater cruelty. ❞ ❝ i cannot imagine the burden a leader like you must bear. ❞ ❝ our greatest enemies are the greatest teachers. ❞ ❝ death’s shadow embraces me. hand in hand we walk. ❞ ❝ breathe. you can’t fight if you hold your breath. ❞ ❝ i know you well enough by now, my friend. ❞ ❝ i can’t go back...to what i was. before this. ❞ ❝ i hope you one day forgive me for the choice i made. ❞ ❝ the wounds you dealt my spirit will never heal. ❞ ❝ why did you turn away from me? ❞ ❝ if you can keep moving forward, so can i. ❞ ❝ it’s a bad idea to sneak up on me. ❞ ❝ promise me something. don’t become like me. ❞ ❝ let me undo the damage i’ve done. ❞ ❝ ...and you want me to clean up your mess. ❞ ❝ the path ahead may take a lifetime, but i will walk it with you. always. ❞ ❝ whatever you believe i’ve become, i will always be your family. ❞ ❝ i wouldn’t be here without you. ❞ ❝ i’ll hunt you past the horizon if i must. ❞ ❝ can i count on you to do what needs to be done? ❞ ❝ that’s over now. you’re here. with me. ❞ ❝ i thought i’d lost you, i should’ve known you’d never give up. ❞ ❝ you can’t continue down this path. ❞ ❝ be careful. demons are everywhere and they fear nothing. ❞ ❝ corpses can’t answer questions. ❞ ❝ you deserve greater respect than this. ❞ ❝ it’s just like the stories my father told me. ❞ ❝ what you become tomorrow is your choice. ❞ ❝ just ask the last man who questioned my sincerity. you’ll find his head covered in flies out back. ❞ ❝ you shouldn’t have lied. i still would have helped you. ❞ ❝ we came this far. we’re not turning back now. ❞ ❝ how do we survive if we don’t trust each other? ❞ ❝ without my help, the fear and pain will overwhelm you. ❞ ❝ whatever happens, we don’t retreat. ❞ ❝ the stories are true. i’ve never seen anyone fight like you. ❞ ❝ see how the enemy fear you? you are a true warrior. ❞ ❝ you want to share a drink...with me? ❞ ❝ maybe you should’ve just ran away. like you always do. ❞ ❝ good people have nothing to fear from me. ❞ ❝ your promises are just like you. worthless. ❞ ❝ as you wish, since you asked so sweetly. ❞ ❝ i know better than to argue. ❞ ❝ i hope i can find quiet places like this one, untouched by war. ❞ ❝ we grew up together, but you threw it all away. ❞ ❝ it was so chaotic. i felt you grip my wrist and then nothing. ❞ ❝ desperation can bring out the demon in the best of men. ❞ ❝ i don’t want to leave without you, but...i can’t stay. i hope you understand. ❞ ❝ a grown man, and you still can barely sit still. ❞ ❝ and i heard you had no sense of humor! ❞ ❝ knowing and doing are different. ❞ ❝ trouble follows me everywhere. ❞ ❝ indulging violence weakens the warrior...like too much food or drink. ❞ ❝ i can always tell when you want to ask me something. out with it. ❞ ❝ i am proud to fight beside you. ❞ ❝ i didn’t nurse you back to health to watch you throw your life away. ❞ ❝ all i want...all i need is to start a new life. ❞ ❝ look twice and shoot once. ❞ ❝ i think they’re afraid of you. you can be...intimidating.. ❞ ❝ you don’t even try to hear me. it’s like talking to a stone. ❞ ❝ so you try to kill me? have you lost your mind? ❞ ❝ you’ve sacrificed everything. for revenge. ❞ ❝ we can’t let anger consume us. or blind us to our friends. ❞ ❝ there is only one way this ends. ❞ ❝ i gave you everything. and you threw it away. ❞ ❝ do not question my integrity again. ❞ ❝ your father would be proud. ❞ ❝ the worst one can do is take advantage of their own people. ❞ ❝ you follow trouble. you should ask yourself why.  ❞ ❝ some of my favourite memories happened at this place. ❞ ❝ i told you this was a bad idea! ❞ ❝ keep fighting. we need people like you. ❞ ❝ are you the one who finally kills me? ❞ ❝ a warrior’s most important weapon is themself. lose control, and you risk defeat. ❞ ❝ first, get some rest. this is killing you. ❞ ❝ see that? i told you. there’s always hope. ❞ ❝ i hope the skills i gained through hardship can be of use to the people here. ❞ ❝ you have skill...but you nearly died rushing into battle. ❞ ❝ in the midst of battle, true leaders must stay rooted, stand firm. ❞ ❝ every time i get in a mess like this, i’m as scared as the time before. ❞ ❝ don’t be the next to disappoint me. ❞ ❝ save what we can, but know that everything passes away. ❞ ❝ i hope you understand, this is just a job. ❞ ❝ that’s a sad way to look at the world. ❞ ❝ seeing you like that...i’m still shaken up. ❞ ❝ sit with me a moment. ❞ ❝ doubt and indecision have destroyed armies. ❞ ❝ it’s so painful to...see you weighed down by sadness. ❞ ❝ on the slim chance some good comes of this...lead the way. ❞ ❝ you fought well, but we’re finished. ❞ ❝ the warrior’s mind is quiet but alive, like rustling bamboo. ❞ ❝ i’ve trained with a blade since i could walk. ❞ ❝ the visions...they’re still happening. ❞ ❝ in our world, being intimidating isn’t a bad thing. ❞ ❝ you have a talent. it’s time you use it, for the sake of our land. ❞ ❝ i've tried to teach you all i know...but you act more like a poet than a warrior. ❞ ❝ your path leads to madness and death. ❞ ❝ that’s twice you saved my life. ❞ ❝ these people stay because they believe in you. ❞ ❝ i didn’t choose this life. it was my only option. ❞ ❝ you came at me like i was your mortal enemy. almost broke my arm! ❞ ❝ i could use your help...in the fight ahead. ❞ ❝ you can be a little rough, but you have a good heart. ❞ ❝ i don’t want to kill you, stop! ❞ ❝ what’s wrong? afraid i’ll get more famous than you? ❞ ❝ war brings out who we truly are. ❞ ❝ take care where you place your faith. ❞ ❝ you seem lost in thought. ❞ ❝ i was getting tired of waiting for you. ❞ ❝ without my wisdom, you will lose your soul to madness. ❞ ❝ peace is an unattainable dream...but a dream worth fighting for. ❞ ❝ i’ve killed a thousand men. every death was sweet. ❞ ❝ what is the point of prayer when we are doomed? ❞ ❝ you’re like your father in more ways than you know. ❞ ❝ if you want my respect, earn it. ❞ ❝ and how many wars have you fought? ❞ ❝ you’re quite the butcher with that sword. ❞ ❝ people who sow chaos must be punished. ❞ ❝ i can’t help but wonder if you enjoy the violence. ❞ ❝ i kill only to protect our people. i think about that every time i reach for my sword. ❞ ❝ i'm sorry if my lack of skill offends. ❞ ❝ it’s the first time in days i haven’t felt like i was about to die. ❞ ❝ you fought like an animal...or a demon! ❞ ❝ there’s nothing more painful to me than a perfect bow...ineptly used. ❞ ❝ victory is won by warriors, not weapons. ❞ ❝ i couldn’t leave you to die. ❞ ❝ i made my choices. even knowing what they’ve cost me, i’d make them again. ❞ ❝ when’s the last time you slept or ate? ❞ ❝ you don’t get to give up. this land needs you. ❞ ❝ oh you pretend we are different, but we fight for the same thing. ❞ ❝ there are still places of beauty to remind us of what truly matters. ❞ ❝ true mastery begins where individual ego ends. ❞ ❝ a warrior faces danger with courage and resolve. this is how they endure. ❞ ❝ those stories...they're not entirely true. ❞ ❝ even the youngest warrior needs a full belly and a rested sword-arm. ❞ ❝ bad men are good at hiding their true natures. ❞ ❝ there is nothing left for me here. my hope is lost. ❞ ❝ i did what i had to. for you. ❞ ❝ forgive my manners. i spent all my time alone. ❞ ❝ is that any way to greet a visitor? ❞ ❝ if you continue down this path...you’ll be no better than the enemy. ❞ ❝ i am grateful for the times we share...but, i always want more. ❞ ❝ you lived your life in a castle. it made you soft. ❞ ❝ i used to know what i fought for... ❞ ❝ face them as a warrior with honour. not a monster. ❞ ❝ i don’t take lives, but i am not a coward. ❞ ❝ i wonder if i’ve crossed a line. ❞ ❝ you can’t expect everyone to understand what you’re doing, or why. ❞ ❝ your methods were brutal...impulsive...without honour. ❞ ❝ there’s plenty to fear without worrying about folktales. ❞ ❝ i hope you’ll find peace again soon. ❞ ❝ you do what you need to survive. and yet you despise others for doing the same. ❞ ❝ is that your excuse? your reason to kill? ❞ ❝ we have to keep pushing. even if it costs us our lives. ❞ ❝ cowards without honour deserve no mercy. ❞ ❝ i’ll fight beside you until the end. ❞ ❝ whatever happens, your forgiveness won’t change who i am. ❞ ❝ why should we settle for scraps when we deserve to be legends? ❞ ❝ only cowards strike from the shadows. ❞ ❝ the proud do not endure. the greatest of us fall in the end. ❞ ❝ perhaps some good will come of this. ❞   ❝ you will see nothing but death to the end of your days. ❞ ❝ legacy is more than a name. ❞ ❝ im sorry. i know what it means to lose family. ❞ ❝ one day we'll escape the endless wheel of suffering. ❞ ❝ is that a 'thank you'? ❞ ❝ i know what it means to be hunted. ❞ ❝ you personify fury and regret. ❞ ❝ that's all right. i want to hear you dig your own grave. ❞ ❝ either way, we’ve got nothing to lose. ❞ ❝ i’ve done what i can. the rest is up to you. ❞ ❝ forgive me, but you look fatigued. have you endured much hardship? ❞    ❝ i hope you find true honour in your next life. ❞ ❝ you deserve nothing less than death. ❞ ❝ this is foolish. surrender, and you can live. ❞ ❝ i too have pride in family. and i know what it’s like to live in their shadow. ❞ ❝ you were gone so long, i knew you were in trouble. ❞ ❝ so many of us here owe you our lives. ❞ ❝ what's wrong? what did they do to you? ❞   ❝ you’re lucky to be alive. ❞ ❝ i know your language. your traditions. your beliefs. which village to tame and which to burn. ❞   ❝ i cannot lose you again. ❞   ❝ i don’t seek revenge. but i will fight for peace. ❞   ❝ we will meet again soon. until then...travel safely. ❞   ❝ this is war --- not a test. ❞ ❝ we can save our home together. it doesn’t have to be like this. ❞ ❝ fear is a weapon. don’t let them use it against you. ❞

[guaxinimraccoon]

jesus christ why-

oh mY DEAR GOD-

FIRST OF ALL I'm SO sorry for taking so damn long to answer those, I've been really really busy and I'm very sorry, I'm doing my best to answer everybody ; o ;

BUT FINALLY let's talk about our big last Euphoria reveal (about four months ago but ok-), where I showed you guys that Alex is Brad's father and Elisa is Toby's mom.

"BUT GUAX WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK??? HOW?? WHEN??? WHERE??"

SHUSH , CALM YOUR TITS DOWN and let me explain:

Ok, so I'll be putting some links here and there because yes, Alex and Elisa's story is very, VERY connected to Brad and Toby's. 

And get ready for a veeeeeeeeeeeeery long post. You were warned.

As you all already know, Alex and Elisa had a troublesome meeting, but eventually got closer to each other, they fell in love yadda yadda yadda BUT their will to get closer to each other, in other words, their relationship brought HUGE consequences.

Yes, they did manage to build a healthy relationship, they were happy, they were fine.

But they were also adults, adults that wanted something serious and concrete, they couldn't spend the rest of their lives as forbbiden lovers.

So Elisa did something literally illegal. She did a potion that was forbidden by the Colony authorities - a shrunken potion - to get closer to Alex.

Those potions were never developed, they're rustic and really antique, so they could do more harm than good or not work at all.

But Alex didn't care, he took the risk and drank the potion to get closer to his girl, the woman that was the love of his life.

The effect of the potion is temporary, so Alex would drink them from time to time whenever he had the opportunity to visit the Colony, spend some time with Elisa and, of course, be a part of her life.

He wasn't just trying to "be like her", he was also trying to be a part of her home. He made friends with her friends, he met her family, he met new imps, new fairies, all of it under his "imp disguise". He even fought for the Colony at it's war times (that is lasting till the current story time). He EVEN presented himself with a more “impish name” - Turk - to make sure people wouldn’t suspect anything.

Of course, people eventually started to ask why didn’t he live in the Colony with Elisa, why did he only showed up from time to time. Alex and Elisa lied, obviously, they told everyone that Alex belonged to a secluded imp tribe that lived walking around the forest as nomads, which made sense since those types of imp communities do exist.

ANYWAY THE POINT IS Alex grew affectioned of those people and with their lifestyle. He started to feel like he was one of them. 

And, of course, he was now closer than he ever was to Elisa.

Since they were different species, they never worried about having kids. I’ve never said this before but Alex is a doctor, he knows about this stuff, so he always made sure to reassure Elisa that "they were their own condon" and, as sad as it may sound, they couldn't have kids.

... Or so Alex thought.

You know how tigers and lions can have offspring together? Yeah, it's the same thing.

It's very hard to happen, but they spent YEARS together if you know what I mean so yeah

That's how Alex and Elisa gave birth to their first child: Tobias, the only one of a specie that is a mix between human and imp.

His parents were really worried at first, afterall, they new NOTHING about Toby's condition. They didn't know if he was going to grow as large as a human or if he'd assume imp proportions forever. After some research with his son's blood, Alex found out that Toby was indeed half human and half imp, but he was predominantly physically an imp. That means his biological features are, mostly, imp like: he'd hardly grow as large as a human through his life's course and could live as a normal imp in the Colony. The fact that he showed talent for magic (once he was old enough to do so) and was able to do it just like any other imp in the Colony also made things easier.

Elisa and Alex chose to raise Toby in the Colony, they believed it’d be healthier and safer for him (especially after some events that I’ll be talking about in other posts), although it hurt Alex to pretend that he was an imp to his son and that he couldn’t see him everyday. 

Even if they couldn’t see each other everyday, Alex and Toby were very close. Toby loved his daddy very much and was very attached to him.

After five years after Toby was born, Elisa got pregnant again and gave birth to their second child: Bernardo (that’d eventually be nicknamed as “Brad”), one of the two only beings of the specie Alex and Elisa accidently created together.

For preucation, Alex took a bit of Brad’s blood and made some research, just like he did to Toby.

And what he found out wasn’t exactly... relieving.

Brad, just like Toby, was half human and half imp, but he had expressed mostly human features in his physical body. He was as small as a baby imp now, but it was a matter of time until he started to grow very VERY large.

Unlike Toby, Brad couldn’t live as an imp in the Colony and things got very complicated for them.

Alex wanted to leave. He told Elisa the Colony’s community would NEVER accept their youngest, they would never accept Alex and probably wouldn’t accept Toby either. They had to leave that place before they couldn’t hide the truth anymore, even if it cost revealing Toby, a five year old child, that most of his life was a lie.

But Elisa was hesitant. She didn’t want to leave her home, her parents, her friends. She knew Alex was right, they couldn’t stand that play for too long, but how to leave everything she had built behind? How to leave everything she knew as home behind? It wasn’t that easy.

Until something very bad happened.

Remember I said Alex made a few friends in the Colony? So, one of them was Stefan, a experienced fairy soldier that had known Elisa for as long as she was alive. He was pretty much her best friend (even if he was old enough to be her father) and now he was also great friends with Alex.

Stefan is important here. He has a very tragic backstory involving humans. He lost pretty much everything to them: his whole family and his wings, something that meant more than just flying to him.

So, as expected, he hates humans and truly believes that they are nothing more than monsters that try to manipulate you and to get advantage from imp’s and fairy’s magic. 

After some years, he started to get very suspicious over Alex. Some things weren’t making any sense anymore and that “nomad imp community” was starting to sound way more like an excuse than the actual truth. He simply didn’t understand what was stopping him to live with Elisa and his sons for once.

So he did some investigation. One day, he followed Alex (that he knew as Turk) out of the Colony, in one of the days he had only come to visit his family. Alex had said earlier that he had to “go back to his own society”. Yeah, right. Stefan was hiding the whole time and followed Alex till a good distane from the Colony’s limits. 

And he didn’t get exaclty happy to see his best friend growing impossibly huge out of nowhere.

Stefan now knew the truth: Alex was pretending to be an imp using shrinking potions. He didn’t belong to any nomad imp group, he was a human that lived in his own house and was coming to the Colony to play family with them.

Of course, he didn’t only felt betrayed, but pissed as fuck. Stefan didn’t waste any time: as soon as Alex came back to the Colony he confronted him. Alex tried to explain himself, but they only argued and ended up having a pretty bad fight.

In anger, Stefan didn’t want to hear no more explanations, so he told some of the Colony’s high authorities about Alex’s lies and that they had to do something about it. 

The Colony’s Council decided to call Elisa and solve things between imps and fairies only. But they showed her no mercy.

They basically gave her two options: or she’d prove her loyalty to the Colony and would kill her husband and her human son, or the Colony would sentence all of them to death penalty, including Toby and Brad, children that they claimed should have never been born. 

Elisa was in shatters. She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t kill the man she loved and her baby child, she just couldn’t. She was about to accept the second option, rathering die with her family than killing them, but Stefan decided to help her out.

He wasn’t expecting the Council to be so cruel and he started to regret his decisions the moment he saw how Elisa was worried about her family and how much she loved them, even if they were human. He hated Alex and Brad, but seeing Elisa in excruciating pain over them was impossible for him, so he made up a plan with her to save everybody.

It cost Elisa to trust Stefan, he had told their secrets to the worst people possible, but she had no option aside from accepting his help and following his plan.

The plan was simple: Elisa would tell the Council she’d kill Alex and Brad and would tell Alex that she had changed her mind and that they should leave the Colony as soon as possible now that Stefan knew the truth.

Alex believed her and, after Stefan’s confirmation, so the Council did. The next step was to take Alex and Brad to the Colony’s limits, pretending they were about to leave. 

Then it happened.

Elisa made, with Stefan’s help, a huge barrier on the Colony’s frontier that didn’t allowed humans to cross it. It was basically a security method that they never thought it’d be necessary.

But now it was and it wasn’t meant to protect the ones inside the Colony...

Of course, Alex didn’t understand SHIT.

He spent MONTHS returning to the Colony in his shrinking form, trying to find a way to cross the barrier and to get Toby back. 

Or to talk to Elisa.

Or to understand.

Or anything.

He just wanted his family.

Eventually, his potions ended and he was left to raise Brad on his own and to never see his wife and oldest son again.

Since then, he hates Elisa. Or at least thinks he does. He’s just deeply mad at her, he doesn’t understand why she left them. 

He did everything for her. Denyed his own race, submitted himself to the dangerous effects of a extremely nocive potion which he faces the consequences till this day, did his fucking best to be the best father and husband his family could have-

All this love, all this effort, all this sweat and blood

Wasted.

It took years for him to fully recover. Aside from the health problems the abusive use of the shrinking potions brought, he also became alcohoolic. Because he wasn’t mentally estable enough, neither to take care of himself and of his very very small son, he went to live in his parents house. His family knew about Elisa and the children they had together, his folks actually liked her a lot so it saddened them as well that she simply abandoned Alex and Brad and that they would never see Toby again.

His family didn’t had to worry about Brad’s very little size for too long though, before he was one year old he had already reached his human size.

Anyway, Alex’s family gave him a huge help until he was healthy enough to take care of Brad, the only one left from the family he built.

Back to Elisa, she didn’t told Alex her plan because she KNEW he wouldn’t want to do it. She simply knew Alex would be too stubborn. He’d have wanted to try to escape or to face the Council. Both alternatives would get them all killed.

Toby didn’t understand why his mother did what she did. He was forced to go back home with her, screaming the whole time, saying that they left his father and brother behind while Elisa was crying endelessly.

Stefan came to them eventually and calmed Toby down. His heart broke when he saw Elisa. She was... not okay.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to assist her. He immediatly went to a representent of the Council and took them to Elisa and to the Colony’s frontier to prove that she had done it and did even more than she was suppose to. Of course, not without consequences to her sanity, she had just killed her husband and baby, of course she was in pain.

Nevertheless, the Council confirmed Elisa had done her part and left to leave her alone with the child they let live.

After that, Toby spent weeks returning to that spot of the frontier to look for his dad and brother. No sucess.

As time went by, he eventually forgot about Brad, he was very young when they tore apart and Elisa and Stefan never talked about him nor Alex. All he can remember is that there was a baby in the middle of that mess, but he can’t relate to it.

He kept the memories of his father though, who was closer to him, and till this day he believes he’s alive somewhere and that he can be found. But he has no idea he’s a human and has no idea of his own true nature.

Elisa and Alex miss their respective sons deeply and think about them everyday. They also miss each other very much and the first months after the incident were terribly agonizing for the both of them.

They kept going for the child that had remained for the both of them and raised them apart from each other. Alex never told Brad what happened and so Elisa did to Toby. Like that, none of the brothers knew about the existence of each other.

Until the day Toby was sent, coincidentally, to his “little” brother’s house

And none of them has no idea of this fucking long backstory I just spent four months writing :)

enjoy

[folklorelise]

Captain’s girlfriend being the Mom of the survey corps

You are Levi’s girlfriend, and you LOVE taking care of these kids.

  - Background story

As a kid, you grew up next to Levi and his mother’s door. Your mothers knew each other since they used to work together. You and Levi very soon became inseparable. You would always play together during daytime; you would sleep together too because neither of you wanted to leave each other. You mother died when you were four, and very soon after that a farmer came and took you in. You tried to resist because you wanted to stay with Levi but the military police intervened. You didn’t even get to say goodbye to Levi and you were gone. Levi did not understand why from one day to another, you just disappeared. He asked his mom where you were, but she had no idea too.

”Is it because she doesn’t love me anymore?” Levi wondered.

”I’m sure she loves you, don’t worry about that my angel.” Kuchel reassured him while hugging him.

On your side, the farmer told you that he was your father. Your mother had succeeded, somehow, to send him a letter telling him how she knew she was sick. As a dying wish, she asked him to come and take care of you.

”I want to go back! I have a friend there and I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

”I’m sorry but the Underground is dangerous. You’re much safer here in wall Sina.”

Since then, you lived with your father helping him with the farms. Your father’s farm helped feeding the three military branches, so it was important to work hard. At the age of eighteen, it was time for you to choose a career. Younger, you thought about joining the training corps, but you father was against it, so you continued studying and finally began training as a nurse. You worked with Doctor Yeager a lot and once your trainings were completed, you decided to join the survey corps as nurse to help. You were twenty-one when that happened.

Your first friend was Hange. They would come into the infirmary very often due to their experiments. It was the only friendship you made since you arrived - you didn’t know how to make friends but Hange was very sociable, so they introduced you to Erwin and Mike. One day, you were eating with Hange in your office and you were talking about the latest news.

”Erwin just brought in three recruits!”

”Is that even allowed?” you asked surprised.

”Apparently. They were all against it because they’re from the underground. But I’ve seen them in action, and they are amazing. Even more because they had no training. You have to see them in action, because one of them, Levi, is truly a titan slayer god.” Hange blabbered.

”Levi?” you wondered, could it be your Levi? It has been a very long time, but he was only friend when you were a kid. Was he still alive? If so, did he change? Surprisingly, you still looked a lot like when you were a kid (according to your father).

”Yeah that’s his name, and his friends are here too — Isabel and Furlan. They are probably training right now if you want to meet them.”

”Why not!”

You finished your meal and went to the training grounds.

”FLAGON! Hi!” Hange screamed.

”Hange and my favourite nurse!” Flagon smiled, ”If you are here to meet my new members, they are killing titans.”

”Y/N come, let’s find them!”

Hange took your arm and run through the trees and once you spotted them, you stopped. They were good. One of them turned their head to where you and Hange were and for a second, you two made eye contact. He froze for a second but quickly continued to kill fake titans.

”Are you okay?” Hange asked you worried. ”You look like you’ve seen a titan.”

”No, I’m good but I have to go, I just remembered how I had some paperwork to do. Hm I’ll see you later!” you explained before running away.

Once the three of them were done training, they met Hange and Flagon again.

”Who was that girl?” Levi asked abruptly.

”Why do you care?” Flagon answered.

”Just tell me.” Levi urged clenching his teeth.

”That was our nurse.” Hange responded to avoid more conflict between the two of them.

”I want her name!” Levi growled exasperated.

”It’s Y/N, why?”

Levi didn’t answer Hange and just left rapidly. Isabel and Furlan were just as confused as the two squad leaders. You lock yourself in your office, panting a little because you ran to there. Levi knew where the infirmary was so he just knocks on your office’s door. He tried to open the door when you did not answer but it was locked.

”You’re a nurse, you can’t ignore your patients!” Levi yelled. ”Open the door now! Y/N!”

You unlocked the door and opened it slowly. You were scared to look at him so you’re eyes were fixed on his shoes. He gently pushed you inside so you would both have privacy. After a minute or two of silence, Levi suddenly took you in his arms.

”I thought that you were dead,” Levi mumbled, ”when you didn’t came that day, I thought that I’d never see you again.”

”I’m sorry,” you said hugging him back, ”a man came in when my mom died and he said that he was my father and since then, he took care of me. What about you? What are doing here? How’s your mom?” you asked softly.

”Erwin took us in,” Levi revealed briefly, ”and my mom died a few days after you were gone.”

”Oh... I’m so sorry about that.” you said looking at him.

”I’m glad you’re here.”

Since that day, you two spent all your free time together. Very soon enough, you met Levi’s friends. You loved spending time with them, and everything was fine. Until that expedition, where both Furlan and Isabel died. You tried your best to be there for Levi but it was difficult between all the amount of work you had to do after each expedition. So, at night, you would sneak into his room that he used to share with Furlan, but now it was just him. Levi was on his bed, curled up on himself. You would just lay beside him, with your arms around him. You were sleeping together just like you used to when you were kids. Since that day, Levi never let you go back to your old bed.

  - First meeting with the 104th cadets

As head of the medical team, you volunteered to do rounds at the training headquarters because some of the kids were incredibly clumsy. It was the first week of training and you would constantly be visited by Eren. That kid was way too into trainings and wouldn’t mind hurting himself.

”Eren you should really calm down a little bit on the trainings.”

”No! I have to become a survey corps soldier so I can defeat ALL THE TITANS!” Eren screamed determined. Mikasa behind who just grab Eren and forced him to sit on his chair so you could stitch him up.

  —————

  The next kid that you would often see was Armin. He was constantly cold during winter and you would order him to rest instead of training. He would have to stay with you because otherwise, he would continue training because he was determined to pass his evaluations.

”If I rest too long, I’ll forget everything!” Armin tried to explain.

”I don’t want you to get hurt if you work out while being sick like this. You would have to wear so many layers of clothes that you couldn’t even put your ODM gear on.”

Once, you had to come urgently because Armin got extremely sick during winter. And he requested to have you here because apparently, sick Armin is really picky. You couldn’t refuse of course. You took the medicine you had for a cold and some extra blankets because you knew there was not any at the training corps and left. Armin was curled up on himself with his winter coat as well as Mikasa’s on top him.

”Armin, hey, I’m here.” you woke him up gently by sitting next to him.

”My head...” Armin whimpered.

”I know, I asked another nurse to boil some water and. It’s going to get better,” you reassured him, ”here’s some extra blankets I took for you.” you showed him the two blankets and put them on him and took off the coats.

After a few days of intense care from you, Armin started to feel better already. But never enough for him to go back training and once you heard him talking with Eren and Mikasa.

”If I’m better now she’s going to leave and that means no more bedtime stories or anything!”

That night you told him that you had to leave because the survey corps had an expedition, he next morning.

”But you’re not a survey corps soldier.” Armin said confused.

”But I am the nurse assigned for the expeditions.”

”What? But isn’t that too dangerous?”

”I had a lot of training believe me, and I have been doing that for five years now so I think I’m good. But thank you for worrying about me.” you laughed softly. ”I’ll be back in a few weeks alright?”

Armin only nodded and fell back to sleep.

  —————

  Reiner would constantly come for minor injuries or fake ones just because he liked hanging out in the infirmary. Reiner was too adorable for you to send him away. Bertolt would very often be with Reiner, and he would too often apologise for Reiner behaviour.

”I know you must be very busy, We shouldn’t bother you any longer.” Bertolt would blabber.

”Not at all! You kids are too adorable and nice for me to throw you outside.” you reassured them which would always lead to you giving them a hug after. You would remember the first time you hugged Reiner, he back up so brutally that it just confused you.

”What’s wrong? Are you hurt somewhere?” you asked worried.

”No! I-I was just... surprised.”

”Well get used to that then.” you joked before hugging him again.

  —————

  You remember once Jean broke his arm so he couldn’t eat by himself and you had to feed him his soup and bread. Jean was sitting with his friend, but he couldn’t go and grab his food and earlier you had told him to wait for you. Five minutes after, you appeared next to him with his soup and bread and fruit.

”Thanks Y/N but I think I can eat by myself.” Jean said with a grin. You didn’t leave and instead just watched him struggle with his left arm. He would spill half of his spoon on the table but he didn’t ask for help. You took the spoon out of his hand and took a spoonful of soup and blow on it so it wouldn’t be too hot. You put your hand under the spoon and expected Jean to eat the food without protest but that didn’t happen.

”Jean, just eat the food.”

”No! I-”

”Open your mouth before I make you.” you ordered with a firm voice.

Everyone was surprised by your tone since you were always so calm and patient. Jean stopped protestant and ate his food. Once you were done you cleaned his plates and went back to your office without another word. Just before you were ready to go back to the survey corps headquarters, your door opened on Jean.

”Shouldn’t you be sleeping at this hour?” you asked softly.

”I...” he hesitated while blushing a little, ”I’m sorry about earlier. You just — you were just helping me, and I was... a jerk...”

”Jean, it’s fine.”

”You promise?”

”I promise, don’t worry. Now go back to bed, I have to leave soon.”

”When are you coming back?”

”Very soon, so until then, ask Marco to help you eat.”

    - The night of the ceremony

Erwin was delivering his prepared speech, that he had practiced on you and Levi a least a thousand times. You would listen to him attentively in front of the crow. And in the end, only a bunch of them stayed. You would of course see Eren, Armin and Mikasa together. You greeted them and everyone else. You saw Jean sitting alone — you were surprised to see him here since you thought that he would join the MP. Your approached him and sat next to him.

”Are you okay? Where’s Marco?” you wondered.

”Marco’s dead.”

You didn’t say anything and just took Jean in your arms. He rested his head on you shoulder and cried a little.

    - Jean can sleep after Marco’s death

You were in Levi’s office, doing paperwork with him as usual.

”You love these kids too much.” Levi stated.

”What? I like them a little.”

”Oh please. You spent all your free during these last three years with them.”

”It’s my job to take care of them.” you laughed.

”They weren’t even that badly injured.”

”Aw, were you jealous? You just have to tell me and I’m all yours.” you teased him.

”You already are.” Levi expressed with a smirk.

”Oh, I’m out of tea, I’ll be right back.” you warned Levi before leaving, but not before a kiss to your boyfriend.

You walked to the kitchen with your two cups and boiled some water. You poured some water in your cups and left the kitchen which leads to the mess hall. A small figure was sitting alone at the back. You walked closer to that person and quickly noticed Jean.

”Can’t sleep?” you asked softly.

”Every time I close my eyes, I keep seeing Marco’s half body just lying there... alone.”

”I know it’s hard, especially because you just spent three entire years with him.” you sat next to him, ”but you need to rest. You are part of the survey corps now and it’s a lot of work.”

”I can’t fall asleep...”

”Go back to bed and I’ll be there, I just have to take these,” you showed the cups of tea, ”to someone and I’ll be there okay?”

He nodded and left. You ran to Levi’s office and told him what happened.

”You love these kids too much.” Levi repeated.

”I’m sorry, it’s just...”

”Y/N, it’s fine,’ Levi reassured you smiling, ”plus, I know how that Jean boy is your favourite so just go but come back to bed with me!” Levi screamed as you ran out of his office as soon as he said it was fine.

Once in front of Jean’s bedroom that he shared with Connie, you opened the door gently. Connie was sleeping on the top of the bunk bed. Jean was sitting on his bed waiting for you. You sat next to him and took off your shoes.

”I once managed to get a guy who would only sleeps three hours top every night to have a better schedule of sleep. So, I think I can get you to sleep.” you told Jean.

Jean had his head on your lap, and you sat against the wall. You started to tell one of the stories your dad used to tell you when you couldn’t sleep. While doing that, you would of course play with his hair because according to Levi ”that sh!t’s amazing to help me sleep so do it”. Soon after Jean fall asleep. You wanted to leave but he had his arms around you too tight. After an hour of waiting, Levi opened the door with a confused expression.

”What are you still doing here?” Levi asked quietly.

”Jean isn’t letting me go.” you showed his arms around you.

”I’m going to kill that boy tomorrow when training!” Levi yelled softly.

Levi then helped you get out of Jean’s arms. You kissed his forehead before leaving him sleep.

”I’m never going to say this enough but you love these kids too much.”

”I do.” you confessed.

”You shouldn’t.”

”I know, they are strange-”

”No. I’m saying this because if they end up dying in the next few expeditions, you’ll never get over it. And I don’t like seeing you all sad.” he explained.

”I knoow, but I can’t help it if they are all so adorable!”

—————

PART 2: here

MASTERLIST

[sameheart-sameblood]

Live While We’re Alive

(gif by @rex-is-best)

pairing: commander wolffe x f!reader

summary: you thought being a newly recruited civilian doctor to the GAR was hard enough until you developed a hopeless crush on Commander Wolffe

words: 2.8 k

warnings: mature, some suggestive talk, mutual pining, medical exams, co-workers to lovers, a doctor having inappropriate thoughts about their patient 

a/n: I started writing this awhile ago and then lost all creative motivation but I've been in a Wolffe mood the past few days and sad we didn't get to see him in The Bad Batch so here we are. I'd like to apologize to my doctor dad and all medical professionals everywhere lol. Also, I had intended for this to end in smut but then got lost in feelings so there mayyyy be a chapter 2. We'll see ;)

read on ao3!

You want to fuck him. It’s been decided. This realization couldn’t have come at a worse time, though. You’re surrounded by Jedi and Clone Officers in a very important meeting detailing your next mission. But you only have eyes for one of the men and he’s currently standing at the head of the room giving a briefing to the holo of Master Yoda. It’s a testament to Commander Wolffe’s presence that you barely notice the little green Jedi Master he’s conversing with. Well, his presence and his extreme handsomeness.

When you’d first met him, you’d been truly intimidated. The other women you worked with nodded in understanding, whispering they had been thrown off by his cybernetic eye and prominent scar. But that wasn’t it. You’d noticed those things, but that wasn’t what made you uneasy.

It was the fact that he took one look at you and seemed to see right into your soul. You couldn’t explain it but you felt like with just a glance, he could tell your deepest insecurities. And stars, did you have a lot of those.

You had worked your way up through the medical field and had started your residency at the biggest hospital in Coruscant. After your training ended, you had secured a permanent job there. It had been difficult, to say the least. Though you knew you were qualified, even more so than most of your male co-workers, you still doubted yourself often.

Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi had come to visit you one nondescript Thursday afternoon, telling you of the need for doctors in the GAR. He said you came most highly recommended when he was searching for recruits but still, you thought a mistake had been made and that someone soon would realize and send you back to your normal life. It was a recurring nightmare you’d developed in the past few weeks that shook you from your sleep.

You had agreed to join the GAR, sympathetic to the cause and wanting to do your part. The next few weeks had consisted of you getting your bearings and meeting the rest of the staff at the base . Kix, the clone medic in charge, had helped you learn the ropes and had introduced you to all his brothers. At first, you had been overwhelmed by the sea of identical faces. As the weeks had gone on, you’d learned everyone’s names and they’d made you feel welcome, like one of their own.

The Commander and you had crossed paths several times. He was polite but distant. Not like you blamed him. He had more important things to do than exchange drawn out pleasantries. With each run-in, though, he seemed to be making more of an effort to be personable. Unfortunately, each conversation left you looking more and more like an idiot. Or a di’kut. The boys had been teaching you some Mando’a.

You were a medical professional, a well-respected doctor and yet Wolffe made you feel unsure of yourself. It had been so long since you’d had a crush that you didn’t realize this was what the beginning of one felt like.

*******

As you sit around the war room table, you feel even more like a school girl. Instead of paying attention to whatever Master Yoda is saying, you’re transfixed by Wolffe’s face. The hazy blue light from the holo reflects off his features, making him look ethereal. His scar looks even more prominent and you blush, remembering how often you’ve wondered what it would feel like to let your fingers trace it.   And his lips. They’re moving, responding to whatever the Jedi has said. They’re mesmerizing and now you’re thinking of what it would be like to kiss him. Or even better yet, to have those lips pressed against the plushier parts of your body.

You continue to stare until you realize his face has turned to you. It probably only takes you a second to come back to reality but it feels like an eternity. Somehow you’re able to respond to the question.

“Yes, Commander. All medical personnel are prepared for an 0800 liftoff. Kix will take his team with the 501st and I’ll have my staff along with the 104th. We’ll reconnoiter once we’ve landed on Hisseen.” The rest of the table nods, moving the conversation along. Wolffe stares at you for a moment, a hint of a smirk on his lips. You avert your gaze, finding the table a much safer object of your attention.

The discussion wraps up and Wolffe stands at attention, puffing his chest out, before Master Yoda disappears. Once again, your eyes are drawn to him. You’re not sure how but he makes something so mundane look indescribably attractive. Wolffe’s head turns in your direction but you’ve already bolted from your seat, hoping to cool down in the hallway.

Kix pushes through the crowd to get to you. “Hey, Doc. How’d the meeting go?” You shrug. “Nothing new to report. Just making sure we’re all set for our campaign.” He’s shifting back and forth, a sort of glazed look in his eyes. You realize he’s not paying particularly close attention. It’s the look of someone asking you something just so they can request a favor in return.

“Hmm oh yeah, that’s nice. Say, Doc, do you think you could cover for me for a few hours? I have some urgent business to attend to.”

“Since when is playing Sabacc with Fives and the boys urgent?”

“Since I remembered how terrible they are at it. I can make a real killing playing against them.”

You laugh. It’s true. You’ve come to love those men but a lot of them are really horrible at the game. You’ll need to give them a remedial course if you have any downtime on Hisseen. “Of course. What do you need me to do?” He rewards you with a huge grin. “Nothing hard! A few higher ups coming in for their physicals. Just the usual. Make sure they’re in tip top shape to get shot at by some tinnies.”

He gives you the list. It’s only a handful of men but the last one on it makes your blood go cold. “Commander Wolffe needs a physical?” Kix is oblivious to your inner turmoil. “Oh yeah, but he knows the drill. Honestly everyone can do it themselves at this point. We’re basically there to oversee it as a formality.”

You swallow down your apprehension and nod. “Sounds easy enough. Go have fun. And take it easy on them, will ya? Let them keep a little of their dignity intact” Kix just grins and shoots you a wave as he runs off.

*******

Your first few appointments go just fine. The officers are professionals and Kix was right, they could do these routine physicals with their eyes closed. You give them all your seal of approval and settle in to do your paperwork before your last, most anticipated patient arrives. The forms in front of you hold no interest and you find yourself checking the chrono every few seconds.

It’s not easy but you manage to finish your work. You set it aside and take steadying breath. Five more minutes and he’ll be here. You scold yourself. The Commander has never been anything but professional. You’re the one thinking these very unprofessional thoughts.

And you’re a doctor, for kriff’s sake. Your patients should be able to come to you without worrying you may be fantasizing about what they look like naked. But these are uncharted waters. It’s your first time having to deal with a patient you’re this attracted to. They really should take your medical license away.

Just as you’re thinking of packing it all up and handing in your resignation to the Jedi Council, a knock at the door snaps you to attention. Well, here goes nothing. You scold yourself once again for checking your reflection in the mirror before answering the door.

You had tried to adopt a passive, professional look to your face before greeting Wolffe but it must not have worked. “Everything alright, Doc? I’m not early, am I?” You shake your head.“Not at all. Punctual as always, Commander.” You beckon for him to come in and take a seat. You close the door, then sit across from him at your desk.

Your datapad hums to life and you busy yourself opening the appropriate forms you need to fill out. The weight of his eyes is heavy on you and your cheeks heat up in spite of yourself. You push on through as best you can.

“Well, Commander, how are you feeling today?” There’s that ghost of a smirk again but it vanishes so quickly you're not sure if you imagined it. “I feel like a million credits.” You giggle despite it not even being that funny. You’ve got it bad. “Glad to hear it. This should be quick then.” You gather your equipment and get to work.

First, you take his weight. Then, you listen to his heart. You press the stethoscope to his sternum, thankful you can do this over his blacks. He observes you the whole time. “And what about you? How are you today, Doc?” You risk a glance and meet his eyes. That was a mistake.

“Me? Oh-um just fine. Maybe not like a million credits but a few hundred at least.” You trail off dumbly but he humors you with a chuckle. You’re not sure you’ve ever heard that sound from him before. It’s like music to your ears. “Anything I can do to help? You do look a little flushed. Are you sure you don’t have a fever?” You avert your eyes again.

“No. I’m alright. It’s just, uh, hot in these uniforms. The coarseweave doesn’t breathe.”

“You sure? Maybe I should be the one giving you a check-up.”

You realize he’s toying with you now.

“That won’t be necessary, Commander.”

You move on to check his lungs. “Breathe in for me.” You move the stethoscope to his chest, then move it around a few different spots on his back. “You can call me, Wolffe. If you’d like.” He breathes in every time, not even needing prompting, ever the dutiful soldier, even when he’s teasing you.

“I would like that. Thank you, Wolffe.”

Next, you measure his blood pressure. You’re shocked that it’s so low. He sees the look of surprise on your face. “Something wrong?”

“Not at all. The opposite, in fact. Your pressures are great. I just thought with your lifestyle they might, understandably, be a bit higher.”

“What kind of lifestyle do you think I have?”

You’re backtracking as quickly as you can. “I just meant, your life as a soldier, it must be extremely stressful.”

There’s that smirk again. “It is. But you don’t get to be a Commander by not being able to handle the pressure.”

“Of course. But even so, if you’d like some stress relief techniques I can suggest some.” He hums as if really thinking it over. Thankfully there’s only one part of your exam left. Which is good because you’re not sure how much resolve you have remaining.

“Everything looks great. I’ll just do a head and neck exam and then I can send you on your way.”

You need to touch him for this part but you stop yourself, hands hovering but not quite meeting their destination. You feel like once you touch him, really feel his skin under your fingers, there may be no going back.

Wolffe sees your hesitation, then slowly reaches out to take your hands. You watch with wide eyes as he guides them to his neck. He looks up at you innocently enough but you can tell he’s laughing internally. You try to reign in control of the situation.

“Sorry, I just got distracted.” The Commander studies you but this time it’s in earnest. “Are you nervous? This’ll be your first time in an active war zone, right?” You had been anxious but not about that. But now that he mentions it, yeah, you honestly don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into.

“Yes, I’m not sure what to expect. I guess you could say I’m a little scared.” Wolffe gently holds your chin, directing you to look back at him. “I won’t lie. It’ll be overwhelming and frightening. Battles can seem never-ending. But I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You’re staring into each other’s eyes and you don’t want to stop. But then he’s clearing his throat and gently removing his hand from your skin. You realize you’ve been resting your own hands on his shoulders this whole time. “Thank you, Wolffe. I do feel much better knowing you’ll be there.” You offer him a smile, hoping it conveys just how much you appreciate him looking out for you.

You begin your exam, gently kneading where his neck meets his shoulders, checking for any anomalies. Then you move to his throat. The throat you’ve so often been distracted by. It’s featured prominently in your daydreams. You move your hands along it, under his jawline. Having a man this powerful baring one of the most vulnerable parts of his body to you is intoxicating. Focus, di’kut.

Everything feels normal except for some knots you find resting right below the surface of his smooth skin. “Lymph nodes feel good. You’re a little tense, though. But I bet it’s from that bucket you have to wear most of the day.” He hums in thought. “True. But even so. Maybe you could give me some of those ideas for stress management?” He looks up at you with big eyes. There’s mischief in them but something else. Vulnerability?

You gulp audibly. “Of course. There are a few that work particularly well, um, like deep breathing techniques, going on walks, talking with friends, meditation, journaling, physical activity…” You’re rambling, fighting a losing game against your resolve. Wolffe thinks on it. “Physical activity seems like a good place to start.” His hands come up to gently cover yours that are still resting on his neck.

The sensation of his calloused fingers on your skin sends shivers down your body. You close your eyes, feeling the last of your self-control topple over. “Wolffe,” you whine “We shouldn’t…” He immediately drops his hands, worry etched on his face. “I’m so sorry. It’s just- I thought you wanted-.” He cuts himself off, snapping up to his feet and to attention. “Doctor, you should report me to General Plo Koon for immediate disciplinary action.”

Dank Farrik, you’ve just ruined everything.“Wolffe! No, I’m not reporting you to anyone. If anything you should report me for being so unprofessional.” His shoulders relax a bit but he still eyes you as if you’re a live grenade that might explode at any second. “What do you mean?” You sigh in frustration. This isn’t how you wanted to confess your feelings to him.

“I…want you, Wolffe. The second I realized that I should have asked to be re-assigned to a different battalion. Instead I thought I could push those feelings down and continue to do my job. Looks like that was a mistake.” You hang your head, avoiding his piercing gaze. He’s silent for just a moment but it feels like an eternity.

“So, you want me and I want you?” You nod your head, ashamed, as he continues. “Then what’s the problem, Doc?” Your eyes snap to his, not believing what you’re hearing.

“Isn’t it wrong of us?”

Wolffe sits down on the exam table again, genuinely thinking on it. “I don’t see why. We’re both consenting adults. We don’t work directly with each other- I report to General Koon, you report to General Kenobi- so there’s no real conflict of interest. The worst we’ll face is a little ribbing from the boys if they find out.”

You raise your head to look him in the eyes, needing to make sure he’s serious and that this isn’t some twisted joke. What you find staring back at you is hope and promise. He senses your trepidation and gently takes your hands in his. “I’m sorry if I came on strong. But the thing about this life is that there are no guarantees. Tomorrow isn’t promised and so I figured I’d rather go for something, someone, that I want and have my heart broken rather than regretting my inaction.”

Your eyes roam the scars on his face, evidence of just how true his words are. You’re heading into active battle tomorrow. One or both of you could be injured, or worse. You step towards him. He spreads his legs so you have room to get closer. You rest your forehead on his, breathing him in.

His hands come up to caress your sides. You take a shaky breath. He questions you softly. “Cyar’ika?” Ah, now that’s one of the new words you definitely remember. His vulnerability makes you ache and the decision to hand your heart over is an easy one. “You’re right, Wolffe. Might as well do some living while we can.”

*******

[x-childish-x]

Hello!

May I ask for a scenario where reader is talking to Kurt about how they’re scared to be alone forever because they are asexual (but not aromantic) but Kurt comforts them and says that he actually liked them since they arrived at the Institute… just a getting-together scenario

Sorry about the big paragraph and the broken english (it’s not my first language ^^). If you can’t it’s okay ❤️

Thank yoooouuu ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Secret Comfort

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x asexual!reader

Fandom: X-Men

Warnings: Asexual reader, gender neutral reader, sadness, angst, mutual pining, fluff

Word Count: 677

A/N: Enjoy the 400 follower spoil-fest!!! Hello lovely, I truly hope I was able to write this the way you were hoping. I'm sorry it took me so long, but here it is! This is my first time ever writing an asexual reader, so please help me in making sure I'm writing accurately and non-offensively. Thank you for all the love and support, enjoy!

Summary: When confiding in Kurt about your asexuality you get much more than you ever expected.

(gif not mine!)

Kurt admired you for so many different reasons. He admired your beautiful, kind, caring soul. Kurt admired your friendliness to humans and mutants alike, and he admired your bravery, your fire, your confidence. The list went on and on. Truthfully, if someone would listen, Kurt would rant about you for hours and hours, explaining each and every reason why he loved liked you so much.

Kurt seized every opportunity with you. He didn't even care that it resulted in relentless teasing from Peter and Scott. He panicked at first, noticing that you were missing from the group's usual weekly meet-up to go watch a movie. Kurt acted upon instinct, immediately teleporting to all your favorite spots before finding you sitting in the rose garden.

"(Y/n)?" Kurt called softly, trying his best to not startle you.

"Oh! Kurt!" You yelped, rushing to wipe your tears, "Sorry, what's up? Is everything okay?"

Kurt frowned, quickly walking to you, "I should be asking you that. Why are you crying? Did someone hurt you?"

"No! No!" You nervously laughed, "Just... thinking."

"I'm always here to talk to," Kurt spoke softly, tentatively sitting beside you.

"I don't want to bother you with my stuff Kurt," You smiled at him, "Thank you, though."

"You don't bother me!" Kurt quickly defended, reaching for your hand, "I would love to help!"

You nodded, acknowledging that you knew Kurt would always help you, as you would love to help him. A gentle silence fell over the both of you, however, each of your thoughts seemed to be screaming into the air, begging you to speak up. Finally, you made up your mind. You would tell Kurt.

You hadn't imagined telling Kurt everything this way, but part of you knew it was safe. It was always safe with Kurt. Here, in the rose garden, you knew that you could confide in Kurt to be your secret comfort. Taking a deep breath and squeezing Kurt's hand, you sat up straighter, looking out directly in front of you.

"I'm scared," You whispered, tears rising to your eyes, "I'm afraid I'm gonna be alone forever because... I'm asexual. I'm not aromatic, I mean, I still like people, I just... don't feel sexually attracted to people. I just... I'm so afraid nobody will ever love me or accept me because I'm not interested in that."

"What if somebody was already attracted to you and accepted that part of you?" Kurt asked gently, taking your other hand.

"W-what?"

"(Y/n), I've liked you since you arrived at the mansion," Kurt smiled, squeezing your hands, "I don't care if you're asexual... that isn't important to me. I could care less about sex. I... I love your personality, your kindness, and your bravery. I admire everything about you, and... I'm rambling."

Tears rose in your eyes at Kurt's confession. You dropped his hands, unable to resist the urge to throw yourself into his arms, hugging him tightly.

"Kurt.." You cried softly, "I liked you too, I have for so long. I was afraid you wouldn't like me because of me being asexual."

Kurt hugged you back tightly, relishing in the feeling of you pressed to his chest, where he could keep you safe from everything, "(Y/n) that doesn't change a single thing about how I feel for you."

"Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Your soft cries slowly grew closer to a sob, "Thank you for accepting me, thank you for supporting me."

"I always will," Kurt smiled, squeezing you tighter, "It'd be a bit unfair for me to judge you for being asexual when I not only have a tail, but I'm also blue."

A chuckle slipped through your lips as you sat there, wrapped up in Kurt's arms, feeling safer than you had in a long, long time. Nobody's opinion mattered at that minute. Kurt liked you and accepted you for who you were. A multitude of feelings swarmed over you, drowning you in them and giving you the strength to conquer anything, as long as Kurt was by your side.

General Taglist: @nowthisisdark​ @techssexythighs​

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

(/rp! also, huge trigger warning for assault, graphic violence, death, abuse, possessive behaviour, obsession, mental breaks, hallucination, really fucking creepy treatment of a corpse, unreliable narrators, the perspective of a villain, torture, manipulation, and gaslighting! this gets pretty fucked up).

When Dream sees Tommy for the first time, there is no dramatic shift, no acknowledgement that his life had changed forever. No knowledge of the fact. All he sees is a skinny little kid who's obnoxious and loud, and he catalogues him just as one of Philza’s strays and leaves it at that.

No, it’s when Tommy drives the sword into his chest for the first time, and Dream wakes up from his non-canon death smiling despite itself when it clicks. He’s not sure what “it” is, exactly, but it’s just something about him Dream hadn’t seen in anyone before that has him hooked, captivated from the beginning.

(There's the vague recollection that he was like Tommy once, a bright eyed naive youth too loud for his own good, but that’s not unique. It’s not that, at least not entirely.)

The conflict was not started by Tommy, nor was he of any particular threat to Dream, but he was fun. So he ignored the rest, and took the boy's music discs. He knew Tommy well enough that he’d fight for them, and fight he did, and even though Dream lost in the end he laughed all the while. He’d played many a game before, but none quite this fun!

They both know this isn’t where it’ll end. Only one hopes it will be.

——

Dream didn’t care much about Wilbur's little revolutionary movement at first. As long as he obeyed the rules, and stayed in the server, it wouldn’t matter whether he delusionally thought he was under his own governance or not.

This changed immediately when he learnt Tommy was involved.

L'Manburg, a name he didn’t bother to remember until he learnt Tommy named it, was tiny, barely any more than a scavenged old world vehicle and some trees. It’s populace was peaceful, only Wilbur even an adult. None of that mattered. It wasn’t that the nation was a threat, though he certainly wouldn’t dissuade his friends fear that it was. But fighting L'Manburg meant fighting Tommy, and Dream wouldn't pass up the opportunity for anything.

He grinned with glee behind his mask as he blew Tommy's strange dirt hovel “embassy” sky high, enthusiastically threatened Tommy before remembering half heartedly to threaten the rest of the nation. He made dealings, found weak links- a new immigrant to the SMP that joined L'Manburg after the war began, it turns out. He offered extravagant promises in exchange for their betrayal, hiding the strings attached to his fingers.

Oh, but it was all worth it when the person with the eyes of an old god lead the revolutionaries into a trap, all worth it when they descended on them at once. It was definitely worth it to kill Tommy, kill Tommy, see him scream and cry in pain and stumble trying to escape and him taking a shuddering last breath. Dream had never seen anything as beautiful.

(It was a war, and feelings like this were okay in wars, right? It’s not like he was obsessed, it’s not like he was a monster. He’d been trying to be good, and killing your enemies was good, right?)

He killed Tommy a second time, too. The boy with shaking hands and a leg hanging limp challenged him to a duel for his nations future. His loss was assured, and Dream knew Tommy knew that also. This one was quicker, Tommy dead between the arrow entering his skull and his broken body make a loud thud against the planks, but it was no less fascinating. If only he had infinite canon lives, Dream would happily give up any ambitions and spend eternity seeing the boy die in so many fascinating ways.

(No, what the fuck was he thinking? The SMP was worth more than some stupid kid, and Dream wasn’t so inept with morality to know torturing someone over and over, killing them, was wrong.)

(Yet, it was so tempting he was almost ready to renounce morality wholeheartedly.)

It eventually comes to the discs again, Tommy handing Dream his prized possessions for some silly little nation. Dream knew Tommy would do anything to get them back. Having so much control was addicting, even more than control of anything else. Dream had learnt long ago that if you didn’t have complete power over anything, people would take the power from you and make you hurt.

So why did he care more about control of some kid than avoiding his own pain?

——

Dream would have sided with Tommy. Really, he would have, but Schlatt just had the better deal.

He holds the book in his hands, power filling him. He repeats the incantation, sacrifices the blood from his veins. He stares into the face of a man near-identical.

“”Brother dearest,”” he says, voice level. “”What do you wish of me?””

Dream grins behind his mask. “”Tommy.””

—

Wishes must come true, Dream thinks, as he sits on the beach of Logstedshire, Tommy passed out and leaning against his arm.

Oh, what he’d give for this moment to last forever. Alas, it passes, like they all do. Still, Tommy's getting so obedient lately- barely even grumbling as he threw his item into the hole. Part of him missed when Tommy would fight back all the while- his pained screams were entertaining. Still, it was safer this way, and more enjoyable in the long run. He’d hate to have his little songbird break it’s neck against the cage doors, never to sing again.

He’s not sure when life outside of Tommy became a chore, but he remembers dimly that it wasn’t always like that. There was a Dream long ago that wouldn’t give up friends and family, who'd cry over losing them even if he’d cut their threads voluntarily. He wasn’t that Dream anymore, the numb feeling in his chest a sign of growth. It didn’t matter that everything outside of Tommy was so miserable, because just being around the boy was a feeling a hundredfold better than any happiness he felt before.

Still, he had duties and responsibilities. Ones that seemed so important long ago, so fulfilling. Maybe one day they’d feel like that again. He had plans, from what he learnt. Government had not left him satisfied, but- whatever you could call what his relationship with Tommy was, it definitely did. Family, he supposed, recognising the boys actions towards him and his brothers. If he could make the entire server like that, that’d be a happiness greater than any other, apart from how Tommy made him feel.

He spent time with Tubbo, getting further and further towards getting that stupid fucking ram boy to calling him a friend and giving him Tommy's disc, all he wanted from him.

(He wasn’t jealous, of course he wasn’t. The anger he felt whenever Tommy called Tubbo a friend, that wasn’t jealousy. That was just logical).

Far more interesting was checking on the prison's completion. When it’s completed, it’d truly be a thing of beauty. Of course, his favourite part was the main cell, that he’d put so much thought into. He’d included all the little things that made Tommy squirm, made his breath hitch and eyes dart around fearfully. That would be so much fun.

(Tommy would learn to appreciate the fun in time, too. He was a smart boy, if irritatingly yet fascinatingly stubborn. He just needed to be taught that if he listened and just played along, Dream could give him the world.)

It took far too long, but eventually it finished, and he could return to the ugly mess of tents and logs he’d made so sure Tommy could never leave. He always started shaking when Dream showed up, trying desperately to hide his fear in his voice, and it was absolutely adorable. Dream savoured it, savoured everything about Tommy as they spent hours talking. Everything, his hysterical laugh, his nervous glances for escapes, the way he flinched whenever Dream grabbed his shoulder, his wrist, the poorly hidden look of pain when he held tighter, just hard enough to irritate the bruises that painted his skin a canvas of black and blue, it was all perfect.

Only he could love Tommy this much, and in time he knew Tommy would learn to appreciate that.

——

The second time he used the book, a tower extended from the ruins of the makeshift prison he’d made for Tommy. DreamXD stated ahead of him.

“”Brother dearest,” he said, “why are you calling on me again so soon?””

“”Bring him back,”” he said, voice painfully numb.

DreamXD shrugged a shoulder, golden hair waving around like in water. “”Who?””

“”Tommy.””

“”I cannot,”” DreamXD said. “”He lives.”” Dream couldn’t help but smile at hearing that.

“”Then bring him back to me.””

DreamXD laughed, a sound like church bells. “”That would be unnecessary. Did I not already grant you the mortal?””

Dream clenched his fist hard enough blood dripped onto scorched earth. “”He left me-“”

“”And you shall find him, no matter what.”” DreamXD smiled under the mask. “”You are bonded to him, and neither death nor distance shall break that. Just look, and you will find him, til the end of time and even past.””

“”Thank you,”” Dream said, genuinely for once.

“”Only the best for my little brother and sister. And I know you would do the same for us, brother dearest.””

——

His planning had come to fruition for once.

They were alone, in the depths of the Earth, just him, Tommy, the fucking hilarious excuse for a “president” Tommy called a friend for some reason, and his axe.

Finally, he could bring his dreams to fruition. He could get rid of any loose threads, and claim what was rightfully his. And once he’d taught Tommy to be grateful, he could get to work on the rest of the server.

It’d be beautiful. Everyone would be his friend, his brother, his sister, something in between. There would be no more wars, just peace. Everyone would be safe, he’d know they’re safe and they’d never rip him to pieces and laugh at his pain. And oh, it’d like be hard work, breaking everyone into obedience but not too much to the point they become boring, but so enjoyable and satisfying. He’d almost be disappointed when it was over.

Tommy- his Tommy, his Tommy, was crying, and it was amusing but he almost wanted to reach out and comfort him and explain it’d all be for the best. He’d do that later, once he’d secured him and any loose ends were gone forever. He couldn’t afford weakness until they were alone, but Tommy made it so tempting.

The ram and Tommy hugged a final goodbye, and the adoration he had towards Tommy, hiding his fear behind a smile, made Dream fucking sick. He should know Tommy was his. They all should know. He’d teach them, when he made the server a perfect family. Even Tubbo, if Tommy begged enough. Dream would do anything to hear Tommy's pathetic, gorgeous begging, breaking through his aggressive walls, and bringing back some random sheep was easily in his brother's power.

See, he could be kind. He wasn’t cruel, he wasn’t a monster. He didn’t even care if he was anymore, fun was so much more important than nonsensical human concepts, but it wasn’t even true. He could be incredibly, selflessly kind, as long as he had a reason. They’d learn, once he fulfilled his dream.

The sound of a nether portal, of betrayal, shatters his dreams and at this point he wonders why he’s surprised.

——

He’d had doubts, during the weeks (months, years? he had no way of knowing) he’d been trapped in the cell, but Tommy being here with him confirmed his design was excellent.

Oh, Tommy was being fucking obnoxious- and Dream knew he was doing it on purpose- but he saw it in the way he never was able to look at the lava properly, the way he always woke up in a cold sweat calling for his daddy like the child he insisted he wasn’t. It was perfect.

(Of course it was, though. It’s not hard to build on something already perfected, and Tommy was the perfect little toy.)

Tommy was so frustratingly different though. He tried not to take it out on him- it wasn’t his fault that everyone else spread lies, planted nonsense in his head about Dream being bad and not trying to do the best for everyone but especially for him- but he struggled sometimes, and it was always so tempting to hurt Tommy anyway, and get lost in the melody of his screams. It wouldn’t teach Tommy anything though, and that’s what was important. He needed to teach Tommy what was best for him.

Tommy had unlearnt all the lessons Dream painstakingly taught him. That wouldn’t be an issue- it was so, so fun to teach- but he knew, painfully deep down in his heart that he could not hold Tommy forever, not yet. The lockdown wasn’t forever, and Dream had no escape route yet. Tommy would just forget everything again, at the hands of his “friends” that couldn’t love him as much as Dream did. They needed to learn far more than Tommy did.

(Except Ranboo of course- oh, the purple eyed boy had the silly naive thoughts in his head everyone seemed to have that friendship was anything but possessing another, but he agreed family came first, listened to Dream, helped him, even with clenched teeth.)

And when one day the frustration got to Dream one day and he was so furious he hit Tommy again and again against the walls of the prison and strangled him until he was cold all he could do was laugh and laugh and laugh.

It was so, so funny, because of course he’d be the one to destroy everything he loved.

——

This time, when DreamXD is called, he looks upon his brother with concern.

“”Brother dearest,”” he says, “”are you quite alright?””

Dream laughs, because of course he’s alright! The tears staining his face must be joy, because of course he’s alright. He’s holding Tommy here, with him, and he was quiet, he must be listening. He can’t be dead, he can’t be, then there’d be no point to any of this.

“”Drista has been concerned for you for quite a while, you know,”” DreamXD continued. “”Is this because of your mortal?””

“”He’s been ever so quiet lately,”” Dream said, with a voice hoarse from crying and laughter. “”I’m not sure to be concerned or happy with him.””

“”You’re not well, Dream.”” DreamXD said, with a tone of finality despite clearly being wrong. “”The boy is dead.””

Dream laughs. “”And yet he does not slip from my grasp.””

“”Then, brother, why did you call me?””

The silence pierces through air like a knife. Eventually, through hiccuping sobs, Dream says “”Just, please, bring him back.””

Tommy sputters to life with ghostly eye and pure white streaks and more bruise on him than corpselike skin and Dream thinks he has never been more perfect.

——

Quackity's left, he thinks, because the pain's stopped growing.

He laughs, because he doesn’t know what to fucking do anymore but laugh. He can’t give up the secrets of the book, of course he can’t. Family comes first, after all, and he dreads to think what the bastard would do to his brother. But the pain was awful, never ending in waves through his whole body, and he almost just wants to confess so he can die.

He cradles what’s left of his arm since the bastard cut it off at the elbow, and he sobs. He doesn’t even care to hide it with his mask. It’s not even the pain that hurts the most, even. It’s that Tommy's gone, and by the time Dream escapes- because he’s going to escape, he’s got to- he might be so far from his grasp even their fates being tied might not be enough.

“Of course that’s not true,” a fake voice says in his head, and wavy form approaches. Fuck, the blood loss must be bad today. It always is when he sees things. Usually it’s George or Bad or Sapnap, and it leaves him with a numb feeling in his chest that he’s familiar with, but today it’s Tommy, and that’s worse. It reminds him of what he cannot hold.

“Fuck off,” he mouths at the apparition, voice too tired and hoarse from screaming to speak properly. Not-Tommy laughs, and the sound is so similar to Tommy he almost thinks that his desperate prayers have been answered, Tommy is there again, but he reached his fingers forward and they go through his tired hallucination.

“You’re a real dick, you know that?” Not-Tommy says, and laughs again. “But I know you mean the best.” Dream shrugs his shoulder at the fake, and then curls up, new waves of pain curling up his arm.

“I don’t know why I was ever friends with that bastard.” Not-Tommy lies, and Dream wants to believe it. “You’re just having fun. He’s cruel.” Tommy would never understand that clear distinction, no matter how much Dream explained it, but the fake said it with such conviction it was almost enough for Dream to fall for it.

“When you get out, I’ll be there, Dream. And then we can all be a big happy family,” Not-Tommy says, the thoughts so obviously Dream's and not Tommy’s but- the idea that Tommy understood, that he saw sense, was so tempting, Dream allowed himself to believe it, just for a second. Just until the pain started anew.

Broken and bloody, Dream drifted into unconsciousness with a smile on his face.

[yoonsshadow]

Strike! - OT7

❥ prompt ; ‘could you please do an ot7 where they all go bowling or to the arcade together? (I also love your eternals series so much!!)’ sent in by @deathbybigsisrory​ 

❥ pairing ; ot7 x fem!reader

❥ genres ; non-idol!au, rom-com, friends-to-[future]-lovers, [they’re not together yet but everyone is very much in love]

❥ themes ; fluff!!

❥ warnings ; none

❥ word count ; 1.7k

❥ note ; Thank you so much for the submission!!! (And also thank you for your sweet words darling xx) I may have strayed a little from the prompt, but I hope you still like it. I haven’t been bowling since I was like 11, so I’m sorry if some details are incorrect. I have never been to an arcade, so I thought this was the safer option. [this isn’t edited]

Somewhere, in the back of your subconscious, is a loud knocking.

It’s a rapid noise, insistent and forceful, but the dream you’re submerged in is far too pleasant to pay it any heed. It will go away eventually.

Except it doesn’t.

As you’re lying in the paradise of a warm coastal beach, mermaids off the coast and dragons in the distant sky, muffled yells are lost in the ambience of crashing waves and mer-song. You are so incredibly comfortable on this beach chair. You think, perhaps, that you’d happily stay here for an eternity.

Eternity does not last very long.

Your idyllic fantasy dissolves the instant hands shake your hunched shoulders, voices now louder in your ear as you are rocked from your sleep. It aches to move, to be moved, but soon you are sitting upright rather than folded over your desk, cheek pressed into papers.

“Hey there, sleepyhead.” Namjoon’s deep timbre vibrates through you; shocks you into clarity faster than your mind is ready.

“Hmrrfh?” Is your unintelligible response. He seems to understand.

Seokjin is crouched beside you, one hand on the back of your office chair, the other on your knee. “I thought you said that you were finished with your work.” You rub your eyes and yawn as he speaks, quickly taking notice of the other figures in the room. “You were supposed to have a break, remember?”

You hum. “I don’t get paid to take breaks, I get paid to have my work done by the deadline. Which is soon, might I add, so I’ll have to rain-check today. Sorry.”

“Nope.” It’s Yoongi who speaks this time. In the next moment, your office chair is rolled away from the desk and into the group of men who have somehow entered your home. Which reminds you-

“How did you even get in?”

“We found the spare key,” Taehyung says, as if the fact should be obvious.

“Yeah,” Jimin adds, “when you didn’t respond to our knocks and calls we thought you might be dead or something. Ggukie damn near kicked the door down when Namjoon-hyung lifted up the doormat.”

“Terrible hiding spot, Y/N,” Namjoon says. You can tell that he’s trying to sound disappointed, but he looks just a little too endeared.

Moving in front of you, Hoseok flashes you a warm smile. His eyes become crescents, his lips a heart, and your fingers twitch with the want to reach forward and caress his cheek. You don’t.

“There’s no way you’re getting out of today,” he says without a hint of malice. “You need a day to relax, and we haven’t seen our girl in far too long. So, will you be coming willingly, or by force?”

“But-” Your protests are cut off.

“By force it is. Gguk.”

Your vision is suddenly filled by a broad chest as thick arms sweep you from your seat. Gravity has no effect on the young man who now holds you bridal style, nor on the Bambi smile that naturally grows on his face.

“We’re going to have so much fun today,” Jeongguk says, muscles flexing around you as they all begin walking towards your bedroom. You have no doubt that Hoseok and Taehyung already have an outfit planned for you, and you even hear the bath beginning to run.

Your boys never fail to look after you. God, you care for them so much.

[You won’t admit to yourself that you may feel something deeper. Not yet. But one day, perhaps soon, you’ll realise that you don’t have to be afraid of that feeling.]

Retro music swirls around you as your group makes their way towards your assigned lane. Bowling shoes in hand and a competitive spirit growing, a weight seems to melt off of your shoulders.

All thoughts of work, of responsibilities, have simply disappeared.

“How are we going to decide teams?” Namjoon looks around the group, as if calculating a mathematic equation. “Rock, paper, scissors?”

Yoongi scoffs. “We’ll be here forever if we do that. Let’s just do Hyungs versus Youngs.”

While Jeongguk, Taehyung and Jimin are cheering at the quick resolution, you lift a brow at the unbothered man. “But what do I call your team then, Yoongi oppa?”

For a moment, he says nothing, merely ducking his head to hide the rosy tint that dusts across his cheeks. Hoseok is the one who steps in to answer, clapping a harsh hand on Yoongi’s back as if to wake him from a trance.

“We can come up with team names!”

Jimin jumps up and down, wide beam blinding you all. “We are team Young and Beautiful!”

“No, we should be Bold and Beautiful! Like that American hand-wash show,” Taehyung suggests, equally as enthusiastic.

Namjoon sighs. “It’s soap opera, Tae.”

“What about Y/N’s Angels?” Jeongguk seems to be thinking hard, ever competitive even in the sport of picking a team name. “Because we are angelic, and Y/N bosses us around.”

That lands him a swift chop to the neck, much to his giggling delight.

“We are the Young, Bold, and Beautiful Angels,” you decide, rolling your eyes. “And what about your team?”

Seokjin does not hesitate to announce: “We are team Kim Seok Jin!”

Yoongi sighs, but doesn’t object, and Hoseok leans his forehead on Namjoon’s shoulder as if he needs the support to keep standing.

“Thank you for consulting the rest of the team about this decision, Jin-hyung,” Namjoon says, deadpan but not upset.

“You should be thankful that I’m allowing you to use my name at all,” Seokjin replies, hands on hips. “It is, after all, a national symbol of good luck.”

“National...?” You mumble.

Jimin groans out a sigh, easily bored and antsy to win. “Can we just play already? We don’t need to have a board meeting every time we make a decision.”

“Let’s go hold some heavy balls!” Jeongguk then grabs your elbow and drags you to the bowling ball racks, uncaring that you’ve only laced one of your shoes on.

“Do you need me to teach you how to bowl?” Jeongguk’s voice in your ear startles you as you stand in front of your lane, ready to go. The pink ball is heavy in your hand when you turn around to glare at him.

“I know how to bowl, Gguk. Now shoo, I need to concentrate.”

“Yes, but do you know how to bowl properly? Like a pro?”

“I am this close to dropping this ball on your toes, don’t test me.”

“Pleeease? C’mon, just this once?”

Damn him and his doe eyes. “Fine. Just once. But you’re going to buy me a plate of nacho fries.”

“Deal.”

You shouldn’t be surprised when he stands behind you and circles his arms around yours, but you do jolt a bit when his hands touch your waist.

“Some people think that it’s the wrist movement that’s most important, but really, it’s the hips. Even if you mess up the bowl, if your hips are at the right angle, you can’t really go wrong.”

“I’m pretty sure wrist movement is actually pretty important.”

The man has the nerve to shush you. “Angle your hips like this,” fingertips press into the soft flesh over your hipbones, “and then take three steps before you let go of the ball. The trick is to start with your non-dominant foot, so that when you bowl, your dominant leg isn’t in the way.”

Sighing, you humour the youngest and stride away from him, following his steps and then releasing the ball from your grip.

It lands a perfect strike.

Jeongguk walks back to the group with a smug smile and a pep in his step, while you simply chuckle at his pride. Meanwhile, the other boys are glaring at him.

“So,” Hoseok says as you wait for your ball to return so that you can have your second go, “are we all going to be allowed to teach you? Or is this favouritism?”

Heaving a deep sigh, you look up to the ceiling as if it, or any higher being, may give you an answer as to why you’ve chosen these seven as your favourite people.

Deep down you know why, but it’s times like these that make you question yourself.

It’s also times like these that make you feel impossibly endeared.

Night has crept up on you by the time the boys drop you back at your apartment, ribs aching from laughter and cheeks sore from smiles. No tension resides in your muscles, in your bones, or even in your mind; you feel as though you are floating, ears brushing against the clouds, with how light you are right now.

“You have to promise that you won’t do any work until tomorrow,” Namjoon says, watching you dig through your bag for your keys. 

“After a full night of sleep,” Yoongi adds.

Seokjin then says, “And a nice, big breakfast.”

“And plenty of water!”

“And a comforting shower- Or a bubble bath!”

“And you have to take plenty of breaks.”

“Maybe we can drop by at lunch to make sure you eat-”

“Would it be better if we stayed over tonight?”

“Why don’t you just stay with us? We can help you-”

“Guys.” Your voice is sturdy as it cuts through the overlapping voices of seven worried men, all eyes turned to you as you stand in your open doorway. “I appreciate the concern, truly, but I’m a big girl. What happened yesterday - well, this morning - was a one-off. I assure you that I can take care of myself.”

You’re met with silence that sounds an awful lot like doubt.

“But,” you sigh, “maybe you can come over for lunch?”

Gleeful voices whoop into the night air, and you have to bite back your laughter as you hurriedly hush them, wary of your neighbours.

One by one, you give them a hug and a kiss on the cheek as you exchange farewells, peeling the younger ones off of you as you tell them that yes, I really do have to go inside now.

It’s only when you’ve closed the front door behind you, leaning on the wall beside you, that you come to the full, unafraid realisation.

You are in love with them. And you think they might love you back.

End

[the-ferocious-kittyrose]

My complicated opinion on Keith Kogane

Keith Kogane is definitely one of the more popular characters in the VLD fandom. People love brooding emo bad boys.

My feelings on Keith are... complicated. I definitely don’t hate him. I have a lot of problems with the character but I don’t think I could ever bring myself to actually hate him. Mainly because I kinda relate to him. We both have problems controlling our emotions, interacting with people, and making friends.

And we both have trouble believing there are people who truly have our best interests at heart and won’t abandon us because we’re a burden.

What I do hate is the way his character was written and the way it negatively impacted the characters around him.

There are definitely a lot of factors that contributed to VLD ending up the way it did. But to me, Keith and the writers insistence on pushing him to the forefront was the poison that killed the show.

Ok, before we get into this whole rant I feel like I should talk about the things I do like about Keith.

I like the premise of Keith’s character. He’s half Galra and never really fit in on Earth. He didn’t act like the other “normal” kids so kids made fun of him and adults didn’t want to deal with him. So in order to protect himself from the pain of rejection he would put up a tough angry facade and push people away and reject them before they could reject him.

This is something that really resonates with me personally having grown up neurodivergent. It’s awful growing up in a world that isn’t made for people like you and not knowing how to interact with or connect with your peers. Especially when you don’t know why you’re like that.

You learn to avoid social interaction because it always ends up negative. You put up walls because you don’t feel like anybody understands you or what you’re going through.

I know the writers probably didn’t intend to code Keith as neurodivergent. They just wanted Keith to be a hothead with abandonment issues, but nonetheless, this interpretation means a lot to me.

I also really like his relationship with Shiro. Keith is so used to being left behind and abandoned that when he meets someone like Shiro who’s patient and genuinely cares it’s new and strange. He’s so ready for Shiro to abandon him, even telling Shiro to send him back to the home, but Shiro refuses to leave him and tells Keith ethat he’s never going to give up on him.

It’s also interesting to see how their relationship develops over time. It’s clear Keith trusts Shiro, but you can tell that that fear of abandonment is still there deep down. In S2, Keith tells Shiro that he’s like a brother to him, and then in season 6, he takes the extra step and tells Shiro that he IS his brother and that he loves him. And for someone like Keith, telling their friend they love them is a big scary thing.

And also it’s just great to see a platonic “I love you,” especially between two guys. Don’t be afraid to tell your bros you love them!!!

Now let’s talk about the stuff I didn’t like.

Keith doesn’t have much going for him in terms of personality. He’s just sorta brooding and serious all the time. He does make jokes occasionally but it’s rare. The writers were more focused on making him cool and badass rather than fun.

I always loved the idea of Keith as a cocky carefree asshole who doesn’t give a shit about rules/laws and is kinda rude/aggressive but has a heart of gold deep down and would do anything for the people he cares about. (Just like a cat.)

I would also make him more alien esc. In terms of design I like the idea of Keith having red eyes with narrow pupils and fangs. And also just small things like the way he walks and holds himself. He growls and bears his teeth when he’s angry, his hair puffs up when scared, he’s fast and agile, disappearing and reappearing without making much noise, small things.

Then you have his race and sexuality. I have no doubt in my mind that Keith was intended to be a straight white dude. A lot of people see him as gay and Asian but there’s no evidence for this in canon. Acxa was originally intended to be his love interest and his race was never mentioned in canon. His name isn’t even Kogane in canon. (And the race of the voice actor doesn’t equal the race of the character. If that was the case Shiro, Hunk, and Lance would be white.)

They should’ve totally made Keith Japanese like he was in the original. It would’ve been so easy! Just canonize Kogane as his last name and have the book say he’s half Japanese half Galra. They could’ve also done what they did with Shiro and keep his og GoLion name. Just have him be Akira Kogane. Definitely cooler than “Keith.”

And as for his sexuality, I definitely think they should’ve had Keith be gay. But well get to that Later...

I also don’t like how they handled the whole Krolia thing. Not only was it crazy rushed, but it completely goes against the shows theme of found family.

Keith’s arc should’ve been about overcoming his abandonment issues and learning to accept the paladins as family. But instead they just get rid of the abandonment issues by just giving him his mom back.

I know a lot of people love Krolia but I don’t feel like she should’ve been introduced in anything other than flashbacks. Because Keith’s mom isn’t really that important. The show is about found family and friendship, not blood relation.

You can definitely have Keith learn about his mom and his family, but I feel like giving him his mom back was too much.

Personally, I always headcanoned that Kolivan was Keith’s grandfather or just a close friend of Krolia’s, and when Keith showed up at the Blade’s base Kolivan recognized the blade as his Krolia’s. Keith could learn about his mom through Kolivan telling him about her, how she was a great person and warrior who died fighting to make the universe a safer place for her son.

Another thing I didn’t like was the whole Keith leaving the team for the Blades thing. I know why he did it, he felt like the team was gonna reject him, he wanted to be more useful, and wanted to learn about his family, but I feel like you could’ve touched on all that without having him abandon his team.

One of the biggest problems with the show is that they did a bad job at establishing the paladins as friends, they feel like coworkers more than anything, and I feel like Keith being absent for two seasons contributed to that.

And his absence is hardly addressed. The team forms Voltron perfectly without him and no one ever says they miss him. Keith doesn’t even seem like he missed them after being gone for two years.

And a lot of the weight was taken out of that Keith v Kuron fight by the fact that Keith and Kuron hardly interacted.

That whole thing amounted to four things, Keith meeting Krolia (which I don’t think should’ve happened), them finding the colony (which was a dumb plot I don’t think should’ve happened), Keith aging up two years (which was weird and unnecessary), and Keith meeting Kosmo (which is... complicated).

I don’t think this plot was necessary. Keith should’ve stayed with his team.

Then you have his relationship with Lance. I know people are very sensitive about this topic. People have very strong opinions about whether or not Keith and Lance were intended to be romantically coded.

Personally, I do like Klance but I don’t believe they were romantically coded. I think if you want them to get together some things would have to go differently.

For example, the bonding moment. In canon, Lance tells Keith, “we make a good team.” I don’t see this as referring to him and Keith. I think he was talking about the whole team. If you want it to be about the two of them, I feel like it should be Lance telling Keith something like, “ya know, you’re not so bad after all,” and then Keith smiles and responds, “you’re not so bad yourself.”

Another example could be the scene where Lance comes to Keith with his insecurities. (Whether it’s as a leader or a friend.) This scene was weird in canon, Lance comes to Keith for advice and Keith basically tells him to just stop thinking about it.

I would prefer if Lance brought up to Keith how he doesn’t feel like he’s good enough or that he doesn’t have, “a thing,” and Keith is completely dumbfounded like, “what are you even talking about?” He goes on about all the good shit about Lance. Talks about how Blue chose him, how he’s a great shot, how he’s good at dealing with people, meanwhile Lance is standing there in shock as Keith says all these nice things about him.

Over all you would just have to develop their relationship more. More meaningful interactions. And if you want the relationship to be romantic you would have to establish that early on. Establish that one or both has romantic feelings for the other in like S1/S2 because if you wait too long it’s gonna feel forced/out of no where.

And then... you have the Black Paladin arc... I’m gonna be real with y’all, this is the arc that killed the show for me, for a few reasons.

One, even ignoring the whole quintessence bond thing, it makes no sense for Keith to be the bp. He doesn’t fit the role. I adore Shiro but choosing Keith as his successor was a dumb move. I get that he saw potential in Keith but they’re are fighting a war, there’s no room for favoritism.

Shiro should’ve chosen Allura as his successor. Not only does she have actual leadership experience, but you would only have one paladin in a new Lion instead of three.

If a lifeguard breaks his leg and can’t work, he should choose an experienced swimmers to take his place, not his little bro that’s still in water wings in the hopes that it’ll teach him to swim.

Two, Keith being the bp doesn’t help his arc. Keith’s arc is about overcoming his abandonment issues and learning to be a team player, he doesn’t need to be the leader for that.

VLD should’ve been about the paladins growing into the best versions of themselves they could be. Their development shown by unlocking new abilities in their respective lions, new forms for their bayards, and new Voltron bayard power ups. They shouldn’t have to change lions and themselves.

Keith and Red have a strong bond and work great together. Keith and Red are both temperamental, unpredictable, and have issues with trust. Keith having to fight to get Red to trust and open up to him mirrors how others have to fight to earn Keith’s trust and get him to let down his walls.

It would’ve been interesting to see them grow together. Keith has no emotional connection with Black.

We never even get to see them bond. Keith just suddenly becomes the “perfect” bp/leader because he got over his mommy issues

Three, it’s a MASSIVE disservice to Shiro’s character. Shiro put all the work in earning his position as the bp, he literally fits fought Zarkon on the astral plane to earn her trust, yet Keith is the true bp? What?

It sucks. Sendak told Shiro that a monster like him could never be a paladin and the writers went and proved him right. Hell Shiro didn’t even get to kill Sendak, Keith got that too.

And don’t tell me, “but he got the Atlas!” REALLY!? A massive Deus ex machina that required absolutely no effort from him to acquire!? Filled with a bunch of rando background characters no one gives a shit about!? You’re totally right, that 100% makes up for it.

I could go on and on about how the treatment of Shiro in this show (and fandom) is blatantly ableist but that’s a rant for another time.

It sucks. I want to like Keith! He had the potential to be an amazing character but the writers just kept on trying to turn him into something he wasn’t and it ruined him for me.

They kept trying to turn Keith into the main character and ignored that ALL the paladins are the main characters. It’s an ensemble cast! You don’t have to have everything come back to one guy.

[shreddedparchment]

A World of Our Own Pt.10

Epilogue

10/11/2020

Pairing: Bucky x Reader          Word Count: 1,615

Warnings: allusions to miscarriage, LOTS of fluff, past death

A/N: I know I haven’t replied to many comments or asks from the previous chapter but I wanted to get this out as quickly as possible so that the story would be truly closed. The ending was incomplete and now it is done and I hope you enjoy this ending as much as I do. It really made me so happy to write and this is the ending these babies deserve after being blown up and deserted on an island. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Life doesn’t happen like we think it will.

We can plan and schedule and arrange as much as you’d like, but things will just not go your way.

As the ship docks, you sigh with frustration, rising to your feet to look through the porthole.

“We’re late.” You grumble, glaring at the darkening sky. “We were supposed to be here by noon. That way we had plenty of time to look around and make sure it’s safe.”

“Kitten, come here.” Bucky holds his arm out towards you without looking up from the small tablet in his hands.

There’s a weather radar on one half of the screen and on the bottom, an email. Probably from Fury.

You make a reluctant beeline for him, sitting on his lap when he urges you to, wrapping his arm around your waist.

With a lick to his lips, he puts the tablet down on the small bedside table—bolted down to keep from moving in rough seas—and brings his other arm around you.

“What did you just tell me last week?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug, pretending you can’t remember.

“Yes, you do, Y/N. What did you so passionately talk my ear off and insist that I remind you, especially on this very trip, if you begin to slide back on your newest and most important—your words by the way—resolution in life? What was it?” Bucky pokes your leg as he speaks, then wraps his arm back around your waist and gives you a squeeze.

“Not to stress about the things in life that I cannot control.” You sigh. “Out of all the damn things I’ve told you, why is this one the one you remember?”

“Because you wouldn’t stop talking about it for an entire day!” Bucky chuckles. “We’re a little late? So what? We have plenty of time. This is supposed to be our honeymoon. Let’s just let go of everything and enjoy our time here.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I just…I wanted everything to be right.” You nod.

“It will be. We bought the island. They’ve been working on it for a year. I’m sure everything will be perfect.” Bucky soothes you, reaching up to rub between your shoulders. “You approved all the changes. They said it was done. What are you worried about? Specifically. Help me to understand this anxiety you’re feeling.”

You grab Bucky’s face and pull his lips to yours roughly. He mumbles against your lips, a small huff of a laugh seeping through.

When you pull away, he laughs. “Ow.”

“I just…we haven’t been back here in years, Bucky. And I want it to be safer than when we left it.”

Bucky’s eyes are full of sudden understanding.

“I see.” He gets to his feet as the large yacht finally stops, helping you stand too before taking your hand in his own. “Come on. Let’s go see it. You kept the hut, right?”

“I kept everything.” You tell him, following him along the narrow white hallway, pristine wooden floors varnished and gleaming. “I just had them upgrade most of it.”

“I like your dress.” Bucky states, giving your outfit a quick once over even though you’d been wearing it for the better part of the day.

You smile bright however, pleased by the compliment before you stop, grab hold of the intentionally designed a-symmetrical dress and swing it back and forth. It’s navy with pink pansy florals and light green leaves, the top more modest than the one you owned before. Capped sleeves and a lovely heart neckline, a very thin strip of pink lace along the hem.

Bucky stops with you, smiling at the shift in your attitude with one simple acknowledgment of your reference to your first time on the island.

“How many times did we end up cutting off pieces of that first dress?” Bucky wonders, letting you think.

“Too many.” You acknowledge. “It was more of a shirt by the time we left.”

Bucky lifts your left hand up to his lips, kissing your simple solitaire engagement ring, your matching wedding band also on your finger.

“Well, we won’t have to cut any of this one off. I promise.” He assures you then pulls you along once again.

Bucky makes you wait. He makes you stay behind as the two of you reach the deck of the yacht—the Paradise Lost as you’d named it—while he steps onto the long and reinforced pier.

It stretches out on the same beach where the cabin of the plane had once stood, now relocated, and honored on another part of the island for the lives that had been lost.

The graves Bucky had dug had been remade, a small graveyard built to give the pilot and stewardess a proper resting place.

You can see it from the deck, a little farther inland where you’d had a cobbled path built to lead to it from the pier.

Making a mental note to tell Bucky you want the Stewardess’s family invited to give them a chance to say goodbye. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to get them here with the secrets surrounding the plane, but you can try.

Bucky comes back fairly quickly and waves you over. Eagerly you make your way to him.

“What happened?” You ask him but he gestures towards an older gentleman on the beach.

“Mr. Lara wants to talk to you about the chef’s supplies. Looks like there was a delay in the shipment.” Bucky tells you, then hurries past you. “Don’t worry, I’ll get our bags.”

“Bucky, we’re paying people to do that!” You call after him, but he waves you off and you turn to meet with Mr. Lara.

The island, while still massively private, has been built up like a small resort. There’s your hut, which the basic structure is the same but to it have been added a full chef’s kitchen. Several bedrooms. A living room. A master bedroom and access to the beach and a private pier.

There’s a beach barbecue patio and lounge chairs. Hidden behind the hut right in the spot Bucky built it, is the bathing pool, now with built in filtration, temperature control and more sustainable materials so that it will endure.

Your little island, the world you and Bucky created was given a full makeover. You’d always known you wanted to come back. You’d hated being stranded but the memories and the connections you’d formed here were special.

After assuring Mr. Lara that you have enough provisions on the yacht to last you until the grocery delivery arrives, you make your way back to see what’s keeping Bucky.

You’re nearly there when Bucky’s sweet chuckle stops you in your tracks. He takes the ramp onto the pier and with his hand still extended towards the yacht, you wait, your heart swelling.

“Careful.” You tell him, but he doesn’t need you to remind him.

Into view toddles a black-haired angel, eyes just as blue as his father’s. Just as you had when you’d thought about the possibility of a child with Bucky how beautiful it would be to see a mini version of him with your temper running around, it’s just so.

You wait with patience, his legs sure though slightly unsteady. His eyes scanning the area with inquisitive gusto.

He’s only just two years old but he’s already smart as a whip and when he spots you, he gasps with excitement and as soon as his little feet hit the pier, he releases Bucky’s hand and races for you.

You stoop down to scoop him and chuckle as he laughs, wrapping his arms around your neck.

“There’s my big boy.” You coo, pressing a kiss to his cheek before he can pull away. “Where are we, Robin? Do you know where this place is?”

As he straightens up, he points towards the shore. “Beesh!”

“That’s right. We’re at a beach. This is an island, Robin.” You explain, moving down the pier with him in your arms.

“I-wan.” He repeats, then giggles before squirming from your grip. “Woah, easy.”

Bucky moves forward and stops the little one before he can run.

“Hey bud, we can run down the pier and play in the sand, but you have to make me a deal, okay?”

Robin lifts his little hand up, bent at the elbow with his palm turned up as he shrugs. “Dew?”

“Yeah. We can run down to the beach if you hold my hand. Okay? The water is very deep, and mommy will cry if you fall in. You don’t want mommy to cry, do you?”

“No!” Robin exclaims, his little face suddenly angry, eyebrows drawn down on the inner corners in an exaggerated expression. “Mommy no cwy!”

“Then you’ll hold my hand?” Bucky asks, holding it out for him.

Without another word Robin takes hold of Bucky’s hand ad doesn’t wait before he’s pulling him along as fast as his little legs can.

“Be careful!” You call after them but they’re not listening anymore.

Life doesn’t function according to your plan.

While you were planning your wedding, Robin came as a sweet surprise. You postponed the wedding and instead celebrated the birth of your rainbow. Much sooner than expected but welcomed all the same.

Then you and Bucky took time to nurture your son and the wedding was finally held only two weeks ago. Honeymoon delayed to make certain the island was safe for you baby.

And although you’re saving the news for the right time, you hope that you can convince Bucky to stay here for a while, at least until your second little one comes. Just another seven months.

[nobodyfamousposts]

Missing - Part 4.1

Remember the something bad coming I mentioned before?

This is that.

Fencing practice the next day had been a bit more intense. Fortunately, Kagami had been a perfect opponent to go all out with. She seemed to notice his emotional state and reacted in kind. Which he appreciated, certainly. Adrien had needed to work off the stress and anxiety from the previous incident with Lila.

It hadn’t helped that Plagg had also been unusually agitated that morning. He wouldn’t say what was going on, but he had told Adrien that they needed to see Master Fu immediately.

Plagg...had never gotten like that. Adrien didn’t understand what was going on, but whatever it was, it seemed quite serious. So he had bit back any complaint about the early morning or his schedule and attempted to reach Master Fu by phone. Unfortunately, it had gone to voicemail after several rings, and they couldn’t be sure if it was that Fu had been asleep or otherwise occupied. While Adrien had offered to find time to go to Fu’s place that day once there was a break in his schedule, Plagg insisted that whatever was going on couldn’t wait, and had decided to go to the man’s home himself.

Adrien wasn’t about to refuse Plagg if he felt it was truly necessary to go, but he felt anxious without his kwami and he still wasn’t back yet. He only hoped that there wouldn’t be another akuma attack before he returned.

He hoped everything was okay…

But at least Kagami was there. Both to challenge him physically and to support him when he explained what happened afterwards.

“So you came clean to them?“ Kagami asked, seated on a bench in the locker room as she listened to Adrien talk about what had happened.

He nodded, coming back to the present and admittedly still somewhat shaken from the entire ordeal the day before. “They deserved to know.“

“And how did they take it?“ While he certainly warranted some reprimand for the poor decision he had made on the matter, he did not deserve to be ostracized or blamed for the mess. Lila’s actions were her own, and while each of them held responsibility for their part in falling for her manipulations and the weakness that allowed her to get as far as she did, ultimately Lila was the only one to blame for her actions. With everything so recent and still so raw, the last thing they needed to have happen was for someone else to be made a scapegoat, which was still a possibility now that Lila was no longer present to take the brunt of their anger. Kagami knew the class was made of generally kind souls, but people could do regretful things in anger.

She for one was not inclined to sit by and allow him to be made into the villain for a situation he was not fully responsible for, and her tightening grip on her foil was indicative of that.

“They weren’t happy with me. They still aren’t. And I don’t blame them, really.“ He admitted. He had been kicking himself ever since his initial talk with Nino for...a lot of reasons, really. Having friends really helped with getting insight and other perspectives. And helped him notice things he hadn’t before.

“But what it comes down to is that even if we knew or suspected that Lila wasn’t being honest, none of us truly realized the depths of just how manipulative she could be.” Not until it was all laid out for them at any rate.

“Even when she snuck into your house and sent out that picture?“ Kagami asked, keeping her voice level.

He winced at the memory of the cause of her akumatization. But still...

“That was rotten of her, and I warned her afterwards.” He took a breath, realizing that his school friends hadn’t been the only ones hurt because of this. This just served as another reminder of his failure to act. “I should have done more then. I’m sorry, Kagami.”

She frowned, not necessarily pleased, but not angry either. “What was the reasoning then?” She asked. Because even if she didn’t agree with it, she knew he at least had some view that led to the choice he made.

He winced. “Honestly, that was the sort of thing I would see of a more extreme fangirl. But lying to police to try and keep someone from getting help is a whole new level of low. And one I thought she actually would not stoop to.” He frowned, looking up at Kagami. “Does that make me foolish?”

“Yes.” She replied bluntly. “You at least knew that she was capable of underhanded things. And when you know a tiger’s stripes, you should know what to expect.”

He winced and looked away, guiltily. “I know. Or—I didn’t? I just...”

She decided to take pity on him.

“That said,” She added, drawing his attention back to her. “While you may know a tiger’s stripes, that does not necessarily mean you would be able to see them in the wild.”

He smiled bitterly. “Are you trying to make me feel better?”

“Yes.” She admitted bluntly. “But that doesn’t make me wrong.”

He sighed. “I still should have done something then. I knew she was capable of bad things. There was no excuse for not warning anyone at least.” He gave a sad laugh. “I can’t even imagine how Marinette must have felt when I told her to leave things alone.”

Adrien hesitated, coming to a realization.

“I think I’ve been doing that a lot...” He admitted. “I did the same thing to her when it came to Chloe when she was being her worst.”

“I cannot speak regarding Chloe.” Kagami stated, and she couldn’t given her limited interaction with the bratty daughter of the mayor. Anything she had to say about the girl would likely be far from helpful and only get them off track. “But if I may ask...why keep putting it on Marinette then when you knew she wasn’t in the wrong?“

He shrugged, despondent and uncertain.

“I just felt safer with her.” He answered.

He was used to being friends with Chloe. Where he had been expected to give her what she wants. Whether it was completing whatever task she demanded of him or tell her what she wanted to hear.

Telling her what she wanted to hear...even if it wasn’t true.

But Marinette...

“I knew Marinette would listen to me. And she’s been good with reaching out and giving chances.”

When two parties were arguing, one of them needed to be willing to offer an olive branch if they were to reconcile and make things better. But so far, Marinette was the only one he could see in that role. The only one capable of it, to be honest.

Heaven knew how often she intervened for their classmates. She’d stood up for them, but she had also been willing to put her own feelings aside to come to a compromise. After all, she had helped Chloe more than once. Even in spite of everything Chloe had done.

“My thoughts were that if I could get Marinette to listen and agree, others would follow suit. And there could be compromise. But that was an unfair burden to keep putting on her and I ignored that there were times she shouldn’t have had to be the one to reach out first. And when Lila came along…”

He shrugged, helplessly.

“In a weird way, I thought I was supporting her by encouraging her to not fight back.”

That turned out to be a mistake. One that had hurt everyone.

It was never that she didn’t matter as much as anyone else, or that she was less important than keeping the peace. It was just that out of everyone, she was the only one who would take that first step and he knew that. He knew it wasn’t fair to keep putting such responsibility on her. But there was no one else he could count on to help or mediate things. And he just didn’t want the class to fall apart.

He kept telling himself he would make it up to her and that he would support her when she needed it, but he wasn’t the most observant of people and Marinette always seemed so strong, like she’d never needed his help.

“I wasn’t being fair to her.“

The fact that he knew Marinette could handle things did not necessarily mean that she should be expected to be the one to have to, or that he should expect her to.

Kagami hummed to her self, thinking for a moment.

“Did you consider that the longer Lila Rossi was allowed to continue on, the more hurt other people would be once her lies were revealed?“

He winced.

“Or did you think they would be revealed at all?“

He sighed and slowly nodded. “At the start, her lies seemed frivolous and only meant to make herself look better. I had figured that either she would get comfortable and stop, or that people would lose interest in listening to her.”

She nodded, considering. “It was a reasonable assumption, albeit an erroneous one.“

He looked away and nodded. “It was a mistake on my part for assuming that much. I wanted to believe that people can get better and learn from their mistakes. And I keep wanting to give second chances, even in situations where I really shouldn’t.”

He knew now that Lila went beyond that.

“Why I let it happen was a combination of a lot of reasons really. I thought she would quit on her own. I thought people would get tired of listening to her. I thought that she would come clean herself. I thought, if nothing else, people would catch on to her lies. I had so many reasons behind my decision, but at the end of the day, it was the choice I made and I will never know what would’ve happened if I had simply told someone sooner. Maybe this could’ve been avoided.”

“But there’s no point lingering on the possibilities of different decisions now that the moment for them has passed.“ She pointed out.

He gave her a slight smile at that. “Yeah. While we all feel bad about it, wallowing in that isn’t going to change anything at this point. We’ve decided to keep our focus on trying to find Marinette. And if nothing else, the reveal of Lila will ensure she can’t sabotage our efforts anymore.”

“Has there been any luck?“

“Alya said she found something. Nino and I are going to talk to her tonight to go over what she’s learned. Maybe she found something that could help?“

“How are things with them?” She asked.

“They’re doing all right. Better than they were with Lila around. The others were really forgiving.” More than he honestly felt he deserved.

Kagami seemed satisfied with that. “They are good friends. If you try to talk to them, they will listen.”

He frowned, a bit frustrated but it seemed to be mostly with himself. “I know.”

She rested a hand on his shoulder. “If there’s something wrong, or if something is troubling you, then you should be free tocommunicate it. If nothing else, it can allow you to get a second opinion on a Point of concern. And in many cases you can share information that other people may not know.“

He smiled at her gratefully.

She smiled back.

“One of the common mistakes in fencing is to hesitate and miss an opportunity to act. Once the moment is over, it’s too late. But if nothing else, you at least have the knowledge for next time.”

“I know.” He agreed. “It’s why I want to help find Marinette. I want to be able to apologize to her in person…and reassure her that things will be better now.”

He clenched his fists.

“She deserves that much, at least.”

Because she was…

To him she was…

Kagami nodded in understanding.

“Marinette is a good friend.” She stated. “If there is any way I could help, I would like to try.”

He smiled.

“Thank you, Kagami.”

______________________

Another day came with another search party. The available classmates gathered in another attempt to try to locate their missing friend. Unfortunately, life goes on even when it feels like the world should stop turning. As such, not all of them were able to make it this day.

Adrien had fencing, and with his hectic schedule and strict expectations, he couldn’t afford to keep missing appointments or he’d lose any freedom to help in the search. Max was busy with a project and was thus unable to join the group on what was steadily becoming a new after school activity of searching the city for any clues. Nathaniel needed to do chores and help his dad at home. Mylene wasn’t feeling well and nobody wanted to risk her coming down with a cold or other illness. Kim had swim practice followed by a date, and it didn’t feel fair to make him give up something positive that made him happy on a search that would likely leave them all feeling drained and depressed.

Chloe was...well, Chloe. And while she had been surprisingly willing to step up and pull a major victory against Lila when it mattered, that one good deed didn’t necessarily mean she wasn’t still her usual self absorbed self. And it certainly didn’t mean that she was willing to traverse around Paris in the cold for who knows how long on behalf of someone she has expressed nothing but dislike for. She made it clear she would be spending her afternoon in warmth and comfort.

Sabrina, naturally, went with her. Though she had wished the group luck with their search.

This left Alya and Nino, along with the members of Kitty Section for the search. To Alya’s surprise, this meant they were joined by Luka as well.

“Luka? You helping out as well?” Nino greeted.

Luka hefted his guitar on his back and nodded. “ I heard you were looking and I wanted to help out anyway I could.”

In normal circumstances, Alya would be gleeful at the show of concern by a cute guy for her friend and the sign of at least one of her ships moving forward. But as sweet as the gesture was, it was really just a reminder of the fact that her friend was still missing, so whatever joy she felt was short-lived.

She shivered.

Chloe did have a point though. As it was getting later into the year, the days were getting colder. It only made her all the more concerned that her friend could be out on the streets in winter.

It was all the more reason to find her sooner. And she straightened, bringing out her phone and planning to do just that.

Alya had spent most of the night and well into the early hours of the morning going through the data Max gave her regarding Marinette’s phone.

What she found was....strange.

The phone itself was gone. Possibly turned off. However, the signal was still there. It was blurry. Seemingly fading in and out, inconsistent, and frequently moving. But it was there.

The data showed the status of Marinette’s phone and its location over the past weeks. Which was…weird, to say the least. The signal was abnormally weak. And didn’t seem to stick to one set location which she would have expected if the phone had been lost. No, if anything, it seemed to be...almost roaming?

Which didn’t make sense. If she was kidnapped, the kidnappers surely would have tossed the phone. And if it had just been left somewhere while being left on, it still should have run out of battery by now.

Instead, it just...sort of kept cutting in and out at random. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to it.

But what had caught Alya’s attention was just when and where this strange status first started, which she had decided would be the location of their search for the day.

The others followed her, letting her lead the way while they chatted amicably with one another. Alya only half paid attention to what they were saying, her focus primarily on her phone and the map it was showing.

“It’s getting colder out, huh?”

“Anyone want to grab a hot chocolate after this? Maybe just as a pick me up after the search?”

“That sounds nice! What do you think, Juleka?”

“I’m in.”

“Hey Luka, is it really a good idea to bring your guitar out here for this?“

“It helps me think. And besides, you never know when it might be needed.“

“I guess.”

Alya, for her part, only half minded the conversation behind her as she led the group to the last known location of Marinette’s phone before it started doing...this. This strange fuzzy image that didn’t seem to be all there.

Unfortunately, the map icon was only able to narrow down the location so much. She was able to find the general area Marinette had been in last, but the specific place...

She looked around.

Strangely, the map led her to a somewhat out of the way area. It was a normal street. Shops of various kinds were lined up along the sidewalk. There wasn’t much that stood out. This was a simple district with no real landmarks. There was no real draw. No tourist attractions. No fabric stores either to garner Marinette’s interest.

So why come here? What had she been doing? And where did she go?

“Does anything stick out to you guys?” Alya asked as she glanced around, trying to find anything that could indicate where Marinette had been.

The others started looking around as well, but for all intents and purposes, it was just a plain street. The split up amongst themselves to go into the shops and ask around for clues. But none of the stores seemed like places where Marinette would go. And none of the workers inside had seen her. Though if they had, there was no way for her to have stood out to them enough for them to recall her weeks later.

“Not with the akuma attack, anyway.” One clerk stated. “It was a distance away, sure, but still close enough that we all shut down and hid out in our stores.”

Alya had nodded in understanding. Because honestly, while Ladybug and Chat Noir did a great job stopping the akumas, the fights could take them all over Paris in the span of an hour. Even if a battle was on the other side of the city, there was no telling where they would end up by the end.

She thanked the man for his time and left the store. Nothing she didn’t already know, but still, any information was useful. Something about it had nagged at her, though, so she wrote it in her notes all the same.

“Any luck?” Ivan asked, causing her to look up at the assembled group. Nino had been chatting with Ivan while Luka had taken to strumming on his guitar while they waited. Rose and Juleka were talking to someone at a nearby kiosk, possibly to purchase one of the charms.

Alya shook her head, regretfully. “Nothing on my end. At least not anything new. How about you?”

The boys shook their heads sadly. Alya couldn’t help the disappointment at that.

“Do you think there’s something we missed?” Ivan asked, trying to be hopeful.

Luka frowned, playing a few notes on his guitar, a bit harshly in apparent agitation. It was probably his method of coping, Alya rationalized. A part of her wished she had some reassurance to give him, but she was feeling despondent herself. Whatever boost she had gotten from seeing justice served with Lila was starting to falter, and she didn’t know how much hope she’d be able to hold on to for her best friend.

“Hey guys!” Rose came running over, looking excited. Juleka followed along silently behind her at a somewhat slower but still faster than usual pace. “That guy selling charms said he saw Marinette that day!”

That got their attention as everyone perked up.

“Really?”

“Where?”

“It was right before the akuma attack.” Rose explained, practically bouncing as she told them. “She was looking at the charms at his kiosk and mumbling about different designs for them, so they had gotten to talking a bit.” She frowned, looking concerned. “But then they heard the akuma alert. The owner was shutting down his kiosk but pointed out the direction he saw Marinette run.”

Juleka reached out, pointing towards a gap between two particular stores. “In there.”

Alya turned to look. The stores in question were both the tallest buildings on the street, standing at four stories with a clear alleyway between them. They didn’t have much in the way of decorations, but with the awnings and balconies, did appear to provide cover. Maybe Marinette had hid in there during the fight?

The alleyway itself was empty. Other than a fire escape on one side, a dumpster, and a fence blocking the way through, there didn’t seem to be much else of notice. And the dumpster had to have been cleaned out in the weeks since Marinette’s disappearance.

Nino heaved a sigh of relief when Alya told him this before he could attempt to dumpster dive for clues. He wanted to find Marinette, sure. And he certainly would have been willing to loot a dumpster for her, but that didn’t mean he wanted to.

The group spread out along the alley, continuing to search for clues. While not searching within the dumpster itself, Nino and Ivan had gone so far as to lift the dumpster enough for Rose to do a quick search beneath for anything. Juleka checked the fence for any holes or ways through. Luka stood near the entrance to the alley as a lookout in case anyone noticed them, absently picking at notes on his guitar.

Alya, for her part, tried to check the fire escape. Was it reachable from the ground? No, it was at least a story up and the ladder leading to it wasn’t lowered if it was even there at all. Maybe if Marinette had stood on the dumpster? Hmm...what if there was a way to check for height on her map?

She pulled out her phone

And immediately froze.

There, on her phone’s map, was a blinking, fuzzy icon. The one that had been indicating Marinette. At some point without realizing it, she had switched from the image of Marinette’s last placement to the current. She saw her own indicator with her picture, as well as those of her other friends with her.

But amidst her searching, the icon symbolizing Marinette’s current location on her map had been moving.

It was moving here.

And suddenly...

It had stopped.

It...was here.

Marinette...it said she was here.

Alya froze.

She couldn’t breathe.

She couldn’t even move her body from her spot. At most, she was able to move her eyes, searching wildly for any trace of her best friend.

But...nothing.

Why was it saying she was here?

“Marinette?!”

All other sound ceased. The others turned to her, but she didn’t even notice because it was here! The signal was right here! Marinette was here!

But…she wasn’t.

It was just herself. Just Alya. Just Nino. Just Luka and Rose and the rest of Kitty Section. Just them. Just random people passing by on the street.

No Marinette.

But…

A quick glance to the phone showed it was still there. So Marinette had to be here, right?

But why?

Alya looked around frantically, calling out in desperation.

“MARINETTE?!”

Silence.

A few strange looks from the people nearby.

Not even her friends dared to speak.

And on her phone, the icon symbolizing Marinette’s signal started to fade and drift away.

Alya stared at the icon. Wishing it back.

“Babe…” Nino tried, approaching her cautiously. “What was that?”

She bit her lip.

“I…don’t know?”

______________________

Oh.

The music stopped.

Whatever strands of melody and lingering echoes of the tune had since faded from the rooftop where she stood.

It had been a beautiful melody. Something gentle and kind in its own way. And while she knew better than to take a break, she had a strange inclination to listen to the sweet yet heartbreaking tune while it lasted.

…it just hadn’t lasted very long.

The loss felt…sad, in a way. She couldn’t help but feel that it had been cut off all too soon.

And the silence bothered her.

It seemed…stifling, almost.

She shook it off.

It was time to go anyway. She had spent too much time here as it was. And she still needed to…do whatever it was she was here to do. Continue searching the city. Keep an eye out for any akumas. Be useful. Stay busy.

Until she could go back to wherever she had been before, at least.

She sighed and threw her yo-yo. As she approached the edge of the building, she allowed the low murmur of background noise and city life to erase that gnawing emptiness. She swung off, leaving the sounds of shouting behind her. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound important.

Back to work.

______________________

Evening came all too slowly for Adrien. The rest of the day seemed to drag on and made him all that much more eager for the end of school. And wasn’t that an irony that he actually wanted to be out of school for once?

But the only thing he was more eager about than school was his friends. And Alya seemed to think she had a lead on Marinette. If she had anything, he wanted to know. If there was even a chance, he’d happily take it if it meant getting to see her again.

Unfortunately, their differing schedules made meeting difficult. Alya had wanted to share her info with Nino, and knowing how affected Adrien was by everything, Nino had insisted Adrien be there as well. But Adrien had practice and lessons after school. And Nino and Alya both had obligations at their respective homes.

It had been decided that they would do a phone chat later in the evening. After Nino and Alya’s younger siblings were put to bed and when Adrien’s schedule was clear.

He was practically vibrating out of his chair with nervousness the longer he waited for their video chat.

“Boo!”

So much so that he actually fell out of his chair when Plagg returned.

“Plagg! Where have you been?!” Adrien demanded as he pushed himself up. He was of course happy that he had returned, but really!

The kwami snickered at Adrien’s expression. Could anyone blame him? That was hilarious.

...but back on point, Plagg remembered his news and quickly got serious.

“I couldn’t find the Guardian.”

Adrien’s eyes widened. “Did something happen to him?”

Plagg shrugged. “I don’t know. He could just be out running errands or something. We’ll need to try again.”

“I could try calling him now.” Adrien suggested. If he had just been busy when he tried before, then surely it would be all right to try again to reach him now? And as long as he had his phone, Fu should be able to get his call. Though in that case, Fu should already have known about his earlier call, right?

Adrien bit his lip in worry. So much had been happening lately. Marinette disappeared. The whole thing with Lila. Ladybug was...apparently in a bad mood for some reason. Now Plagg was agitated and they couldn’t reach Master Fu.

He took a breath to steady himself. They weren’t sure Fu was actually unreachable yet. He needed to call him first. And if that didn’t work, he could have Plagg lead him to the man’s place to check up on him.

Still...he couldn’t help the anxiety he was feeling, and it only seemed to be getting worse.

BRIIIIIING!

“AAH!”

As was evident when he panicked at the sudden alarm from his phone. So much so that it took him three tries to grab the phone as he kept dropping it due to his frantic fumbling. Ignoring Plagg’s commentary, he looked to the screen and saw it was a video call request from Alya.

Oh right. The video chat with Nino and Alya. It was supposed to start now. He had just gotten distracted.

He took a breath and answered the call.

“Hey! Hi! Hello! Glad you made it!”

Honestly, he could have smacked himself.

Somewhere off to the side, Plagg was snickering. On the video, both Alya and Nino seemed to be smiling at how frazzled he appeared. Adrien himself was much less amused.

“Did you find anything?” He asked, only partly to distract from himself.

Mostly because he was hoping for some news. That their excursion earlier had been successful. That they’d found something on their friend. Preferably the friend in question.

But their downhearted expressions told him the answer before they even had to say anything. The explanation that followed was short but detailed, and only seemed to further his confusion. Given their expressions, Adrien was sure that Alya and Nino were in the same boat.

“It was the weirdest thing...” Alya trailed off in a mutter.

“I’ll say.” Nino added with a laugh. “You were kind of freaking out. We all panicked when you started shouting.”

In any other instance, Alya might have been offended. As it was, though, she was quiet. Remaining deep in thought and seemingly oblivious to her boyfriend’s attempt to distract from her.

But Adrien noticed.

“Alya? What’s up?”

A moment of silence followed as she attempted to gather her thoughts.

Then...

“I have a theory.“ Alya started, looking apprehensive.

Adrien perked up. “A theory? What of?”

Nino, for his part, found in realization. “Does this have to do with what happened earlier?“

She nodded. “I’d been following her cell phone signal. After…” She hesitated for a second. “Well, when I was Lady Wifi, I managed to track Marinette’s phone signal and that same signal is on my phone now. But something isn’t right about it.”

She lifted her phone to the screen so Adrien could see what she meant. Sure enough, there was Marinette’s icon active on the map, but...it looked strange. Distorted. He struggled to tell that it was Marinette’s picture there at all.

“It’s been like this for a while. I’ve never seen any case like this, and there are no reports online of anything similar. Plus given how it’s been moving around…” She pulled her phone back and shrugged. “I think magic may be involved.”

Adrien straightened. “So you think she might have been akumatized?”

She shrugged. “Near as I can figure.“

Nino frowned. “But that doesn’t make sense. Hawk Moth can only akumatize one person at a time.“

Well, that wasn’t quite true, Adrien realized. There had been the Scarlet Moth incident when he had caused a mass akumatization with that illusion. Then it happened again that time Marinette had been expelled thanks to Lila’s schemes.

He bit back the rush of resentment and guilt at the memory to focus.

Could Hawk Moth akumatize more than one person at once? There had been the young twins who became Sapotis and when Alya and Nino became Oblivio, but those were cases where two people were essentially one akuma. And even in the case of multiple active akuma like the time Lady WiFi, Reflecta, and Princess Fragrance came after him thanks to his cousin, they all still only shared one akuma. Purifying that had been enough to restore all three, and in this case, he and Ladybug had already done that. So if that was the case, Marinette should have been restored as well, even if they hadn’t fought her.

“Could he have made Lady WiFi if Marinette was already an akuma?” Adrien asked.

“He’s akumatized more than one person at once though. There was the incident with the scarlet butterflies. And then there were also the time with my sisters.” Alya argued, remembering the same incidents Adrien had.

“And when Adrien’s jerk of a cousin caused you, Rose, and Juleka to be akumatized.” Nino added.

Alya groaned. “We just don’t know the extent of Hawk Moth’s power.”

Adrien nodded at that. Of course it was possible that Hawk Moth had discovered some new ability. But his power seemed to follow certain rules and have at least some limitations, so it didn’t make sense that he could suddenly do this.

Or why, for that matter? Hawk Moth did show some capability for planning—Scarlet Moth was proof of that. But what could he possibly gain from keeping Marinette as an akuma for this long?

But...hadn’t he targeted her before?

Adrien bit his lip.

There was too much uncertainty.

He sent a glance to Plagg, who saw his look and shook his head in response. The kwami looked particularly annoyed at the current train of the discussion. Clearly they were on the wrong track.

Adrien took a breath. “I don’t think that’s it. If it was Hawk Moth, what would be the purpose? We all know Marinette is gone now and would be looking for anything that could be behind it. If he had the ability to akumatize multiple people back to back, why use it like this? It doesn’t add up.”

“I don’t know if it is that Hawk Moth akumatized her.” Aly admitted. “It’s just that it has to be magic. There’s no other way to explain it. I mean, it’s not just Marinette that’s gone. Her cellphone…” She hesitated. “It isn’t stable. It’s there, but...not? And she was there today. I know she was.”

She had to give Max credit for his capabilities. The data was extensive and thorough despite the clear limits. And quite advanced. She hadn’t known it was possible to get as much data as he had, or even that it existed. But it was helpful to her search, and that was the important thing. With it, she was able to glean information. And slowly, a timeline started to form.

As did a theory.

“So her phone signal is still there, but she isn’t. And it’s been like this since...“

Since Marinette went missing.

The same day she disappeared, the biggest thing that happened that day was—

“The akuma.” Alya whispered. She frowned as she switched her browser on her computer to the Ladyblog and started looking through the archived footage and documentation of that attack.

There was an akuma attack that day. Someone feeling forgotten and overlooked was given the power to erase others.

She had watched a video of one such unfortunate victim. The poor guy didn’t even have a chance to wince at being hit. He just vanished the instant the attack made contact.

“But if Marinette was akumatized,” Nino continued, “why would Hawk Moth even make an akuma like that? If she’s not doing anything other than making herself disappear...that’s not useful for him, is it?”

Alya frowned, looking over the data again. “It’s not, no.”

Adrien also wasn’t convinced. From Plagg’s expression, it seemed he had some idea, though now wasn’t the time to press him. He’d have to wait until after the call was over. “It’s also much quieter, isn’t it? Every akuma up until now has been immediate and noticeable, otherwise Ladybug and Chat Noir wouldn’t know to come out and fight it, and Hawk Moth wouldn’t have a chance to target their Miraculous. The only exception was when Sabrina was akumatized the first time to be invisible, and even that was only for a couple of days.”

Nino shrugged but appeared to agree with him. “It’s been a couple of weeks since Marinette disappeared. If it was an akuma, wouldn’t we have noticed one by now? Akumas are generally fueled by emotions. They aren’t subtle.”

Alya looked back at her phone, reviewing the timeline. “But if she isn’t an akuma herself, then the only other option I can think of is that she was hit by that erasure akuma last month.” She shook her head, incredulous. “But that can’t be right. The Miraculous Cure would have brought her back, wouldn’t it?”

So caught in the discussion between his friends, Adrien didn’t see how Plagg looked stricken.

“It’s never failed before.” Nino stated.

“But what else could explain the state of her phone signal? It should either be there or not at all.

Adrien paused, tilting his head thoughtfully.  “That’s not normal.” He agreed.

“It does indicate that whatever happened to Marinette, it must be magical. And the only one with any sort of power along those lines would be Hawk Moth.”

“But why?”

She sighed.

“I guess that’s the question, isn’t it?”

None of them noticed Gabriel standing outside the door. Or the expression of dawning horror.

________________

Gabriel felt numb in a way he never thought he had been before.

The missing Dupain-Cheng girl? An akuma?

No. That was impossible.

Even if he was capable of akumatizing more than one person at a time outside of the Scarlet Moths, he would still have known. He would have made contact with her. And from his experience with his powers, he would have a link to the girl.

There was nothing.

But the only other explanation…

An official victim of an akuma attack. Someone that the Cure didn’t bring back.

How was it possible?

He entered the office in a daze. Nathalie followed him closely  in worry, but he barely took notice. He just shut the door quietly behind him once they had both entered, then leaned against it. He felt shaky. Off balance.

He had gone to his son’s room to see if he had access to any of the pictures or footage from the fashion show. Or if that journalist friend of his still had her video. Just...anything.

Audrey had called him in such a rage that day. Somehow, the shipments of her latest issue of Style Queen never made it out. Her attempt to recover the issue failed due to multiple holes and entire blank pages where pictures and articles should have been. So she had reached out to him through Nathalie, demanding his involvement and taking his attention away from his duties as Hawk Moth. At the time, he had begrudged her the missed opportunity at another akumatization.

But now…

“That can’t be right.” He murmured to himself. How could this be? How was this even possible?

“Sir?”

“The blank pages and missing pictures were those of myself and my son, as well as any of my son in that hat.”

“The one from the contest?” Nathalie asked, uncertainly.

“Made by a Marinette Dupain-Cheng. A girl who it seems is also missing. And has been for some time…”

He looked to his computer, wondering if he could pull up the information or if that would be gone as well. He had thought it a simple error at first, but the more he searched, the less he found. And now, after hearing his son’s conversation...what else could it be?

“But the Miraculous Cure restores everything.” He continued, almost monotone. “That’s what it does. That’s how it works.”

She hesitated.

“Maybe…not this time?”

He felt unsteady as he made his way to his desk. Perhaps he actually was, as Nathalie had quickly moved to his side to help him to his chair. Given how he felt, he could only assume he probably looked ready to fall over.

“Sir?”

It…it shouldn’t have happened. The Miraculous Cure always undid any damage of the akuma battles. It rebuilt any damaged or destroyed property. Healed injuries. Brought people back from any sort of unwelcome fate. It restored people from being half-melted ice cream sculptures, for crying out loud!

For anyone to have just…NOT been saved was unheard of.

Gabriel had thought he had been prepared for this. But now that he was actually experiencing it, he was…left shaken...

He had known going in that casualties would be a very real possibility, but had reassured himself. It was for the greater good. His family was worth it. Everything would work out in the end. He could just use the Wish to change the world and make it so that none of this had ever happened.

And then Ladybug had appeared with the power to restore things and he was only further convinced. There wouldn’t be any long term damage. No one would be really harmed. Whatever happened could be fixed.

No one would die.

It became almost like a game. He could go all out with little concern for the consequences. If he lost, Ladybug would just use her Cure to fix everything and he would get another chance to try again. And if he won, he could correct things himself.

As such, he ceased to worry about the “what if’s” and focused solely on his goal.

But now a child was gone. As good as dead. Possibly worse.

And this time, magic wouldn’t bring her back.

For not the first time since he had started on this path, Gabriel wondered if it was worth it.

Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng was an aspiring designer who showed great promise. From his limited interactions with her, he could see she had passion—both for her art and in her life. He had been impressed with what he had seen of her capability, and her level of care for his son was secret only to Adrien himself.

And now she was gone.

And Adrien…his own son was suffering for it.

He had heard from Nathalie how Adrien had been worried for her. How he had gone so far as to go out and search for her in some futile hope of finding her. How he had held onto that hope, trying to reassure himself each day that she would return safely.

Adrien…truly cared about this girl.

He wondered if it was any different to how he felt about Emilie?

What would he think if he learned the truth? If he discovered who Hawk Moth really was? If he knew his father was the reason his friend had been erased.

It was…too much.

Was this a sign?

Was this an indicator that he was going too far?

He should stop. Before more people were hurt. Before his son discovered the truth. He should…

He should stop this.

…

And yet…

Gabriel clenched his eyes shut.

…he couldn’t.

Stopping meant letting go of Emilie. It meant giving up on ever getting her back. Of ever making their family whole.

If he gave up now, that would make all he had done for nothing—including the child’s loss as well.

He was not completely heartless. A missing child would no doubt cause quite a bit of turmoil. It was no wonder Lady WiFi hadn’t listened to him, being too intent on searching for her friend. The feelings that had drawn his akuma to her...similar to the growing feelings settling on a number of Paris’s citizens.

Worry, sadness, fear, anger…all were emotions that would make perfect targets for his akumas. In any other circumstances, he would see fit to use that. However…given his part in this matter, the very thought of using the loss of a child to his advantage—especially when it was his fault—made him feel ill.

He would avoid targeting her friends or family. He owed her that much.

But he…he had to continue.

He had to make it worth it.

Once he saved Emilie, perhaps he could even use the Wish to bring back Miss Dupain-Cheng as well?

Then maybe…

Maybe they would forgive him someday.

________________

Sure enough, a few days later it all came to a head.

When Adrien arrived in class that day after yet another failed attempt at contacting Master Fu, it was to a group of some of his classmates looking particularly concerned and surrounding an upset Juleka. The girl wasn't crying, but she looked to be close as Rose kept an arm around her shoulder and was trying to whisper words of comfort to her. The only ones not present were Max and Nathaniel.

"Don't worry.” Rose reassured her. “I’m sure they've just been misplaced somewhere."

Juleka shook her head firmly. "No. I keep them on my wall. I never move them, but they're just gone."

"Maybe your mom or Luka moved them?" Kim suggested.

"Not without telling me. And I asked them. Neither of them knew anything."

Adrien grew more concerned as he approached the group. "Guys, what's going on?"

Alix glanced over to him and answered. "Juleka's photos are missing."

That was a surprise. He knew how much actually appearing in a photograph meant to the girl. It would have to be upsetting to her to lose any of them.

"They were all the ones from the class photograph.” Mylene explained. "Remember? The ones we took in the park.”

Adrien winced internally before nodding. He had remembered full well that entire incident...and the akuma she turned into because of it...and the heels (god, the heels). They had taken quite a number that day and Juleka had seemed so happy when she went home with copies in hand. "Do you recall where you last left them?"

Juleka appeared more morose. "They're on my wall. They're always right there and I can't miss them. I put them up immediately after getting home and haven't moved them since. I know I saw them there yesterday, but when I got up this morning, the wall was completely blank."

"That's really weird.” Alya chimed in. "And you're saying no one moved them?"

Juleka shook her head.

The other classmates glanced to each other, appearing more uncertain. Adrien himself started to gain an unsettling feeling.

"I keep them all posted on a board in my room. They're right there and I can't miss them, but when I looked this morning…” She shook her head.

"I never move them."

"Maybe it's a prank?” Kim asked, but he sounded uncertain. If it was a prank, it was a cruel and rather pointless one.

Alix seemed to share that sentiment. "It's not a funny one. Who would even do that?"

The group looked around at each other. They were really the only ones who even knew Juleka's "curse” or about the pictures. But each of them simply looked confused over the matter.

"It couldn't have been a prank.” Ivan insisted. "Luka would never do that and their mother would punch out anyone who tried."

Mylene frowned, considering. "Juleka's house is a boat. One housing three people and isn't that big that someone could sneak on board without being seen."

“It’d be a pointless thing to do—sneak onto a boat just to mess with pictures and nothing else.” Kim noted. “Was anything else missing?”

Juleka shook her head. “Not that I know of. Just my pictures.”

"It's okay." Rose said, trying to be cheerful and calm her upset friend. "I have a couple extras of the photos we took in my notebook. We can copy them and replace the ones that went missing."

It wasn’t quite the same, but it was a suitable alternative for now. So with a solution to the more immediate problem at hand, Rose shared a bright smile that Juleka tried to return—albeit with a much more strained and shaky one. Rose didn't comment, instead going to her desk and pulling out her book bag.

“I keep them right in—”

The others looked over in confusion as Rose suddenly cut off, her expression turning confused.

"Rose? Everything okay?” Alix asked, growing worried at the prolonged silence.

Rose bit her lip and turned back to the group. "Did one of you maybe already take my notebook?"

Confusion seemed to be the theme of the day, as the classmates again glanced at one another before looking back to Rose.

"I'm not mad or anything!” Rose said, attempting to reassure them. "Since it's for Juleka, but if you already have it, I'd like to know where it is."

"Wait...are you saying your notebook is missing, too?" Nino asked.

Rose bit her lip, uncertain. "I don't—I mean, I guess so?"

"That's strange." Adrien said with a frown. He turned to the rest of the group in growing concern. "Look around. Is anyone else missing anything?"

The rest of the class searched through their bags, but fortunately, no one else seemed to be missing anything.

“That is odd. First Juleka’s pictures, then Rose’s diary? Why those things?” Alya wondered. She muttered to herself about an akuma and checked her blog to see if anyone had posted any similar cases on the matter.

The rest of the class took it upon themselves to try and offer some reassurance to the two girls that their items would be found.

“Maybe we can check the cameras?” Ivan suggested.

“That’s a lot of footage to go through though.” Nino pointed out.

“I bet Markov could go through it pretty quick.” Kim replied with a grin.

Adrien looked around at his classmates. It was good to see them mostly recovered from the ordeal with Lila and trying to help each other. But he couldn’t shake the feeling something was strange.

He could almost get a sense for it before he was interrupted by the timely yet untimely arrival of Max.

Kim smiled in relief at the sight of his friend. “Hey, Max! Buddy! Think you and Markov could give us a hand with a little investigation? Rose and Juleka seem to be missing some things and we figured maybe you could help!”

Max, for his part, looked concerned and a bit guilty. "I'm sorry, but Markov and I are already busy trying to assist Nathaniel and Marc. It seems that somehow, their collaborative comic has been erased."

Multiple gasp and moans of horror and disappointment filled the room at that. Everyone really enjoyed that comic and they had been really looking forward to the next installment.

"Do you know what caused it?" Mylene asked.

"We've been doing everything we could, but we haven't been able to find anything about the comic in the computer. I suspect it may be a virus of some kind, but there's no trace of anything of the sort. We're trying to help them work this out. They had gotten a lot of work done on this comic and I'd hate to see it lost."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out. You're amazing when it comes to technology." Kim said with a grin, fully confident in his friend's capabilities.

But Max didn't look enthused. "I'm not so sure. Markov can't find any trace of an outside program or of the comic even being there.” He waved his hands. “It’s like it just…vanished!”

Adrien frowned. Three things in one day. It…couldn’t just be coincidence, could it?

“Can it do that?”

“Not like that. Not normally.”

"This is strange.” Mylene said anxiously, gripping Ivan’s hand. “A lot of things seem to be missing."

Alya frowned, looking at her phone. "Speaking of strange things, I just got a hit to the Ladyblog. It's Marinette's parents. They want to talk to Ladybug and Chat Noir as soon as possible."

Several of the classmates perked in surprise.

“Could it be an akuma?”

“Do you think they’re okay?”

“Did they find something about Marinette?”

“But why call for Ladybug and Chat Noir then?”

“Huh? Hey, Adrien, where are you going? Class is about to start!”

Adrien barely took notice. He was already out the door.

______________________

If he hadn't already received the message, Chat would have known immediately that something was wrong. Rolland and Gina Dupain were present at the bakery. He knew little regarding the Dupain family, but he had been under the impression that the two were not on good terms. But they were actually working together without issue, with Gina working the counter and Rolland working the kitchen with nary a grumble regarding the bread.

When Chat arrived, Gina immediately called for Tom. And within seconds, he was quickly rushed in by the much taller man, who…did not look well.

The giant, kind bear of a man looked like he had aged since the last time he had seen him. Not to any great or unnatural extent, but it was clear that stress had impacted him.

Losing a child would do that to you, he realized. But whatever else was going on was certainly doing him no favors.

"Thank you for coming." Tom said with clear relief as he opened the door.

Chat nodded in return as he entered. "It's not a problem. But your message sounded urgent. Has there been any word on Marinette?" Like hopefully that she returned and the bakery was closed so the parents could smother her in affection?

He was hopeful. He was a hopeful guy.

Tom shook his head. "I don't know how to explain it. It's best if you see it for yourself." With that, he led the way through the back. Chat followed with some growing trepidation and jumped when he entered the living area.

Sabine was there. Her gaze practically snapped to him the instant he appeared, though she didn't otherwise move. The woman was sitting on the couch, clutching a box of what appeared to contain an assortment of clothes and dolls. Marinette's things, he realized. But why? Comfort, perhaps?

But Sabine didn't look sad or in need of comfort. If anything, her expression made him wary to approach her. She looked upset no—not just upset, but downright angry. She was on guard and watching him with a strange sort of hypervigilance. Like she'd literally bite his hand off if he got too close. He had no doubt that magical suit or not, the woman probably could.

Chat had thought the grandparents had looked particularly tired. Like perhaps they hadn’t slept in a while. But Tom and Sabine both looked like they had slept even less.

For her part, Sabine’s eyes narrowed at him and she pulled the box closer to her and as out of his sight as possible. It bothered him, because it was strange for someone to be clutching a box like that. She wasn't looking to the things inside for solace, she was warily watching everything else around her.

Something was wrong.

More wrong, he amended.

"We noticed it after a few days, but we didn't know what to think." Tom said, softly as he continued to lead the hero up the stairs and through the house. "It looked like some of her things had been moved around. At first we thought that maybe she'd found a way back home. Or that she was trying to communicate with us somehow. But... “He opened the door and allowed Chat into the room.

When Chat finally entered Marinette's room, he couldn't help feeling bewildered.

Was it always this empty, he wondered? He glanced around at the different areas of Marinette's room, noting the differences and the overall"¦lacking. The walls were missing pictures. There was nothing on the desk. The mannequin that was normally adorned with the beginnings of some sort of outfit or new piece wasn't even present, leaving a sadly empty space in the room. There weren't even the knick knacks or textiles or yarn or cloth pieces that he remembered seeing previously. It looked like a room. It even looked like someone lived in it. But it was bare of a lot of what made it Marinette's.

Tom looked around the room in growing dismay. "It's getting worse."

Chat blinked in confusion. "What?"

"The posters are gone now. So are the gloves she had been working on. Several of the pictures changed before they disappeared." Tom looked to Chat, eyes begging for an answer. "We checked frequently, but bit by bit, they were gone before we realized it. It's like they're just...”

"They're fading." Chat realized in growing horror. He'd started to suspect, given Juleka's pictures and Rose's diary, but this confirmed it.

This wasn't natural.

Marinette didn't run away. Nothing so simple could explain what he had been seeing so far. No human could pull this off, and he knew Marinette was far from the sort to even try, no matter the reason. This was magic, he was sure of it.

"Sabine and I have been taking shifts. Whenever we looked away, something else was gone. So we just...” He shrugged helplessly before gesturing down the ladder.

Downstairs. To where Sabine sat hoarding a box with all the ferocity of a dragon guarding its gold.

He understood now. Marinette's mother wasn't holding onto Marinette's belongings out of missing her child, she was literally trying to keep them from disappearing!

Her room. The pictures. The notebook. The comic. They were all connected by her influence. Everything Marinette owned or had a part in was starting to fade away. Her parents figured it out and they were trying to protect what was left of their daughter.

He clenched his fists.

He had to talk to Ladybug.

______________________

How frustrating.

It had been weeks, but Ladybug had made little progress in her self appointed mission to track down Hawk Moth. And it had been vexing, especially given his recent silence. Other than Lady Wifi, there hadn’t been any other akuma attacks. Even in spite of the more despondent atmosphere she had noticed around the Francois Dupont school as of late.

He must be planning something...

Surely there had to be some minor issue he would consider escalating to akuma-worthy. That incident in the park with that strange old man certainly stood out in her mind as one such missed opportunity for the supervillain.

...who even was that man? He acted like he knew her and was spouting...the strangest things.

Who she was before she became Ladybug? Someone beneath the mask? He ‘knew’ her?

Ridiculous.

Clearly he had been suffering some ailment when he happened upon her.

She sighed.

It was unfortunate really. For a brief moment there, she had almost thought the man had known something valuable. He had seemed so earnest. And she could almost swear he seemed...familiar? Like she had met him somewhere before.

She rubbed her head, trying to recall. It wasn’t just this time or the one incident before. Maybe she had rescued him once? Maybe he was one of the civilians she had chatted with on some previous occasion? And that could be how he thought he knew her?

Maybe...

“Ladybug! LADYBUG!”

At the sound of someone calling for her, she stopped and turned around to see Chat running towards her. She was glad to see him again, but from his expression and the way he was running, it looked like this wasn’t a social visit.

“Chat? Is everything all right?” She asked once he had finally reached her. “Is there an akuma?”

“No! I mean yes! I mean—not exactly!” He shook his head. “Sorry, just…”

She couldn’t understand him through his babbling. Ladybug frowned and held her hands out, gesturing for his silence to get his attention.

“Chat, calm down and breathe. Then tell me what is wrong.”

To her further annoyance, he took a deep—somewhat exaggerated breath. If nothing else, however, it did serve to get him to settle and be able to speak normally.

“Listen, I think something may have gone wrong in the last akuma battle. Well—not the last one, but the last last one.”

…semi-normally.

At least she could understand him, at any rate.

Still, that was concerning. “What do you mean?”

She had stopped that akuma, hadn’t she?

“A friend of mine disappeared after that battle and never reappeared. Now she’s missing.”

“You mean that Marinette girl? Chat, it’s likely she may have run away.”

“NO. She didn’t. I was worried about that at first, but she wouldn’t and I was right. Other things are disappearing now! Everything of hers or that she had a hand in is literally fading away! She had to have been hit by that erasing akuma.”

“That’s impossible. The Miraculous Cure fixes all the damage caused by an akuma fight.”

“But Marinette hasn’t returned!”

“Then maybe she wasn’t involved with the akuma fight at all.”

“Her things are disappearing! Anything that reminds people of her are suddenly vanishing if people aren’t constantly watching them! That’s not normal! That’s magic.”

“Did you actually see anything disappear?”

He paused.

“Well—not directly myself, no.” He admitted, rubbing his head. “But a lot of people have said things are disappearing. And they all seem to be things she had some involvement or influence in.”

Marinette had come up with the idea for Rose’s journal after Chloe had insulted it. She had helped Juleka break her curse and take all those fun photos to make up for the class picture. Marc and Nathaniel’s comic only got started because Marinette had introduced them. And from what he saw at the bakery, the effect was expanding.

He froze, a creeping realization sinking in.

If it was expanding, just how much would be gone?

“But if you haven’t seen it, then how do you know that it’s an akuma?”

“But they said—”

She shook her head. “Chat, it could just be coincidence. People misplace things. Lose things. Throw things away and forget about them. It happens. That doesn’t make it noteworthy and doesn’t mean it’s magic. Sometimes, those things are just gone.”

“But they—”

“You have to face facts, Chat Noir. If she’s gone, she may not return.”

He’d had enough.

“What is WRONG with you?”

He had plenty of times where he felt annoyed or angry with Ladybug. When she rejected him. When she kept secrets. When she didn’t seem to take him seriously. Looking back, those instances seemed so incredibly petty compared to how he felt in this moment.

Never had he ever wanted to shake her the way he did now.

“A girl is missing! She is literally fading from existence and you don’t care!”

“Chat, you don’t even know that’s actually the case! There are other things to worry about right now!”

“This is a person’s LIFE AT STAKE!”

Ladybug simply looked unimpressed. “Everyone’s life is at stake against Hawk Moth, Chat! And you would have me put him on hold just for one person?”

“She isn’t just one person!”

She was a person! She had a name! And a family! And friends! And a dream! She was an up and coming designer! Jagged Stone’s artist! Their class representative! His classmate!

She...

She was his...

Now Ladybug looked almost...sad? Disappointed?

“You’re too attached to this girl to think about this objectively, Chat. You are letting your emotions cloud your judgement. As a hero, you need to be impartial.”

He grit his teeth.

He wanted to say something.

He wanted to say so much.

But instead, he turned tail and stormed off.

It was Ladybug. His partner. The person he would follow in any crisis. He knew to an extent that she had a point, because yeah, he had a tendency to act on his emotions rather than think things through. But...she sounded like she didn’t care.

What else could he do?

So he ran away.

But Ladybug...

She simply stood there. Her head tilted in confusion as she watched him go. She watched for a minute before she shrugged it off and turned away. She didn't try to go after him. Not once did she call out to him.

Her partner was running away from her...

...and she just let him.

______________________

Tom knew something was wrong.

It had been a busy day in the bakery. Despite the circumstances in the current situation with her daughter being missing, they couldn't just keep the bakery closed. After all, Marinette had to have a place to come back to at some point. And they needed to keep living.

But that didn't mean it wasn't hard.

Tom and Sabine had been torn. In their current state, they were hard pressed to keep the bakery running and also focus on efforts to find their daughter. It was even worse now that they had distinct reason to believe magic was involved.

It had been fortunate that both Gina and Rolland had been willing to put their differences and issues aside to come help. They had been a substantial support during this time. When Tom had reached out to them, Gina had cut short her trip to Peru to fly back to Paris and assist, mentioning using her connections to deal with some of the cartels in the area known for human trafficking on the chance they happened to be involved. And Rolland had taken to the traditional methods of posting Marinette’s MISSING picture at various locations.

Seeing the current situation with the parents, both had gone so far as to agree to help in the bakery. Gina had agreed to manage the storefront while Rolland had taken to helping in the kitchen. Surprisingly with minimal complaint about the bread. And even willing to close his own bakery in the meantime.

He was still difficult, but it was clear the man was trying. And he was more help than not.

This allowed Tom and Sabine to be able to breathe. There were points where one or the other would have to go to the back when things got to be too much. From the normal stress of the job itself to the pitying looks and questions they would sometimes get. And now to try to keep count of what else of their daughter’s had disappeared when they weren’t looking. Which meant they had taken to shifts during the night as well in hopes that their presence would slow down the process.

Sabine had been quite focused on this for the past few days, willing to leave the majority of the bakery work to the other three. But one could only spend so long staring at a box and a slowly emptying room, and she had eventually agreed to Tom’s pleas to just try to return to a regular work day if only to restore a sense of normalcy.

...he should have realized something was up the instant she had agreed.

She had switched with Gina in working the front and dealing with the customers. Plastering a perfect smile and jovial tone, as if her world wasn’t crumbling. He was concerned with her state, but Tom had wondered if this wasn’t her way of trying to cope. Sabine had long had a way of being a pillar of calm in any storm, so he had decided to trust in her.

But then there were the more...delicate customers.

Enrique Arnette was never an easy man to deal with. Pretentious, high-handed, and with a need to be catered to in a way that rivaled with Audrey Bourgeois. He could be her brother, all things considered. They were both loud and full of themselves. Only she, at least, had the power and capability to back her.

Unlike Audrey, Enrique was just loud. Loud and entitled. He was well known for being picky and making specific demands that some questioned might be less about what he actually wanted and more about looking for a reason to get upset and cause a fuss. But Tom and Sabine's Bakery seemed to be one of the few places capable of meeting his picky and overly extravagant standards.

Usually, Sabine was more than capable of handling him or any other contrary customer.

But today...

"What is this? Are you supposed to be a bakery or a crematorium?"

It was like nothing she did was satisfactory.

It might have been the stress getting to her. Tom would have believed that.

Except that the smile on her face was like ice. And her eyes were like steel. When he tried to step in to take over handling the order, Sabine clutched the plate in an iron grip. And as she looked up at him, her gaze was downright unnerving.

"Let me handle this."

Tom didn't dare disagree. He just watched and waited anxiously to the side as Sabine continued to try and fail to fulfill his order.

It was too cooked.

There was too much syrup.

The fruit was mashed.

The design was poorly done.

As Enrique became more frustrated, Tom noticed how Sabine neither stood up to the verbal tirade, nor did she apologize.

And his wife's expression was a knowing one.

It was...unusual for her. If he didn't know better...or maybe because he did know better, he couldn't stop himself from wondering if it was intentional?

The way she was messing up the order so many times was not like her, to the point he could swear it was on purpose. And her attitude and responses, while not outright rude, were not customer-friendly and were certainly far from her norm.

Was she...trying to upset him?

"What kind of service is this?!" The man demanded.

Tom stepped forward. "Dear, why don't I handle this and you can take a break, okay?"

But Sabine didn't even look at Tom. Her gaze remained fully on Enrique.

"If it is so displeasing to you, perhaps you would find service more befitting of your station in a dumpster?"

Everyone froze.

Sabine was many things. Matronly. Firm at times when needed. Soft at other times when it isn't. Fully willing to stand up to people.

But she was never rude. And she would never insult anyone like this.

Enrique’s face turned red in growing rage.

"What did you say?"

“Are you deaf?” She asked him congenially in a tone and manner as if she was commenting on the weather instead of actively insulting the man. “Or is there as much trash filling your ears as there is your mouth?”

Tom gaped momentarily before moving forward to intervene. “Sabine, why don’t you just—”

“HOW DARE YOU?!” Enrique shouted, almost on the verge of a shriek. “I have NEVER been so insulted in my life!”

“Then clearly people weren’t trying hard enough.” Sabine shot back derisively. “If you aren’t going to take your needlessly complicated and pretentious order, then get out and let someone else.”

Gasps and murmurs resounded.

He turned up his nose. “I won’t pay a euro for that mess or your attitude! If anything, you should be paying ME at this point for the insult! And trust me, I WILL be making you pay!”

Shouts of alarm got Tom’s attention, along with the sound of wings.

“Oh no!”

And akuma had gotten into the store, no doubt attracted to Enrique’s indignation as it fluttered its way towards the irate man.

Except that in the second before the akuma could reach him and assimilate into his watch—

SLAM!

Sabine had caught the akuma in midair before it could reach Enrique, her hand covered in an old worn oven mitt.

Everyone jerked back in shock and growing horror.

But Tom just stared in sorrowful realization.

He recognized that mitt. It was one of the first things Marinette had made and gifted to her mother.

It was one of her few possessions that remained.

One that Sabine had refused to part with.

"No." He murmured. "Sabine. Honey, no.”

His wife couldn't hear him.

The glowing mask was indicative that it was already too late.

[bloodybells1]

Some Other Aisle

As of late, the following words recur in my head:

Drifting leftwards . . . .

They come in and out of my awareness like waves. Sometimes I’m making breakfast and they loll in like a prerecorded mantra; the volume fader slowly goes up and then down and then the words disappear.

Other times they resemble the ambient calls from the hallways—I live in an apartment in the city—pinging and echoing in my head like the sundry canines and babies, the hellos and the door slams I hear above and below. The words pop in, linger in the air for a bit and then slowly disappear.

Drifting leftwards . . . .

What are they doing in my brain? They don’t seem to make all that much sense; there’s little context for them, at least as I stand over the pan searing my Beyond sausages. I guess you could say that they’re vaguely nautical. That doesn’t help me understand all that much, though, since I don’t boat. Without the endemic jargon of boaters—that lexicon which I’ve never been able to quite get (“aft,” “knot,” “halyard,” et al)—the words don’t place me anywhere, at least not in the way boating terminology places me. When someone says “Stay on port tack” (I hope I’m getting that right) we are instantly there, on the sea, looking up at a sail, smelling the brine. These words, however, in their mundanity, as specific as being stopped at a light after which one turns to who knows where, don’t capture a comparable sense of environment.

Drifting leftwards . . . .

Ok, so they’re not nautical; but, for the sake of argument, let’s just say they’re of a maritime nature.

I suppose that’s as it should be. If we’re talking about being adrift, that is. Yet, despite all this murk, the drift I’m experiencing does, in fact, have a direction. No Sargasso Sea here. So the words don’t imply off the bat that my movements in the ocean are random. I do seem to be going somewhere. After all, I may be drifting, but I’m still going left.

[I should note that this post will come with the second edition of my newsletter, called, not too coincidentally—now that I think about it—The Anchor. Should I take this as some kind of synchronicity]?

You might be able to guess by this point that I’m talking about politics. Which is slightly weird since I don’t usually write about politics. I used to, though mostly on social media. And it wasn’t pretty. So, a little over a year ago, I terminated my Twitter account, an action I carried out with the conviction of a toilet flush. Since then I’ve been consuming my usual intake of news, commentary and opinion pieces, which I might rate as above average. But, though a lot has been going in, almost nothing has been going out. The only time I pontificate these days is with my girlfriend and friends. Which I’ve truly savored the way recovering alcoholics savor their meetings. Unlike with social media, I consider the face-to-face gathering of friends to discuss important current affairs as a sacred event, tantamount to a kind of civic duty. I’m not a commentator, at least not by profession, so, while I certainly can’t go a day without gabbing about D.C., actually writing about politics doesn’t naturally occur to me.

But, I’ve been confused lately, what with little imaginary logographic boats sailing into view all the time, and so I feel the need to break my fast—though of course not on Twitter but in this much safer environ. I suspect that my confusion stems from not just my political orientation “drifting” but also from the nature of this particular type of drift, which looks now as if it’s in some late stage wherein my loyalty to the Democratic Party is being cast off. And, since this for me is also a recognition that there exists no viable political party to migrate into, I’m encountering what sounds like what many veteran Independents have already remarked upon, that this process traffics in mystification. The word on the street when it comes to being an Independent is that it’s a hazardous affair, a road full of potholes and dead-ends. Though, of course, we live in strange times anyway now, which explains why this strange migration I’m writing about now, a migration I’m undertaking in a definitive way, is becoming quite common indeed.

One of the first things that occurs to me is how long this has taken, how ironclad my loyalty to the party has been. It’s been like trying to wrest myself from a plush lounge with great vibes, though, as of late, the more I make for the exit the more it feels instead like prying myself from a hungry shark. I think many Americans believe they must be in one of these parties, and that if they aren’t that they’re betraying something terribly important. Sometimes it even seems like they sin if they don’t pledge fealty either way. What’s most interesting to me is how, now that we’ve all entered the so-called subtext-as-text phase of late-stage capitalism, the battle lines are drawn so firmly, etched so concretely, it’s impossible to ignore just how conspicuous the split-screen is. They used to do it with a modicum of grace. The line between us versus them used to be drawn with a fine stencil. Now they’re using magic marker. That aisle they love saying they used to cross all the time, the lost tradition of which they now with calibrated sighs bemoan, is truly a wonder now, a border wall within our politics that has developed into its own iconic status. The word “duopoly” is on everyone’s lips. It’s impossible to ignore. It’s also no longer possible not to see the sham of it all.

So what next? What happens when you finally cross some other aisle, the one that most people either don’t know about or, worse, don’t take seriously, that specific weird aisle reserved for the curious and strange, the soon-to-be politically homeless? This is the aisle that divides those with membership in a party from those without. Already I can hear the war drums beating in my head, warning me of doom should I cross. There are people who use their influence to frame any other aisle than that binary defined by cable news as nothing but a chimera. Or, if you press the point, they’ll insist on a certain closetedness: “you’re sounding like them over there” is what you’ll hear the moment you express the barest nuance. Which is why they’ve largely succeeded in painting the independents who reject the binary as only so many anomalous simps.

Have I, in my confusion, in my consternation, internalized this sophistry? Does my procrastination in cutting the cord with the Democratic Party indicate an abdication of free thought? Have they succeeded in a kind of coercion?

Or could it be that my confusion is not confusion at all, but merely the oh so strange sensation of real liberty?

Now that I’ve tasted this wine, I most certainly believe the latter.

And yet, still, the question persists: what to do now?

I guess what I’m describing is the experience of not having a tent, of running in between the awnings and getting stuck in the rain. The big tent I’ve been under my whole life has become intolerable, the duplicities unconscionable.

I should also note that not all Independents are created equal. Some truly have no political affiliation, are agnostic to their bones. You could call these people “winnable,” “persuadable,” or “available” for either flank of the duopoly.

But I suspect that many are like me. Many have fled their party and have seen only two exits from the tent, one to the right and one to the left, and have decided to pick a direction to go in. They haven’t just entered an escape pod into deep space, they’ve made a decision that their own party doesn’t have enough of a certain direction. I guess that, by this logic, my drift doesn’t look like drift at all, but actually something like forward momentum in a specific direction.

Though it still consoles me only a little bit. Because, now that I’ve picked a direction, I see that those two exits in this tent both have real problems.

To me, the rightward exit from the Democratic Party looks like a chaotic bazaar, like a crazy festival saturated in personality cults all centered around a Randian neoliberal hellscape that believes in running the economy like it’s a grotesque hotrod engine that should be free to ride the highways with no speed limit. So, needless to say, no can do.

But the one to the left, seems, well, like Siberia. “A Leftist in the United States” are about the loneliest words on the planet. “Anyone home?” It’s so cold on this side of the tent it’s enough to instill a desire to trick oneself into taking the snake-oil on the right. After all, bazaars are fun. That right-wing snake-oil even seems more American somehow. They love waving that flag. In a way, they’re right. They certainly have the optics. The thought over on that side of the political spectrum has metastasized over several centuries into a bunch of indelible tropes, from the snare and piccolo accompanied ostentation of Old Glory to the baked-in fetish for John Wayne individualism. It bespeaks of a hopeless ontology of right-wing sentiment in the American soul. So, to actually drift away from that, towards what is ostensibly opposite of what it means to be American, away from the bazaar of one side to the permafrost of the other, seems like a kind of masochism.

Yet: what else am I to do? I do love the woods, so I guess my direction makes sense. Though that offers little help with the vertigo.

- - - - - -

I was eighteen when Bill Clinton won in ’92. My hot take the next day was telling my friend that “I don’t trust that guy." At the time, I knew little of politics. I only knew to parrot my father’s condemnation of all things “big D” Democratic. His politics and how he came to judge the candidates, typically, I suppose, for a certain type of Republican, was a matter of scents: one needed only to hear where they stood on gays in the military and the rest could be easily derived from a kind of intuition that was equal parts Holmesian induction and animal instinct. And so Bill with his aw-shucks smirks and his suspicious charm and his saxophone was immediately written off as a shyster. My father, unlike me, would never waver from his discontent: late-stage Bill, awash in controversy, was as offensive to my father as the early one that won the first term. Like many Americans during the Clinton-Lewinsky scandal, I watched Bill tell the camera live that he didn’t have relations, though, in my case, as was the case with many who had angry, right-wing parents, that broadcast was accompanied for me with an audience response (“You’re an effing liar!”).

For my part, when I was eighteen, I barely understood the difference between the two parties. I knew only of certain optics, that there’d been twelve years of Republican rule and that it had come in two forms, in the persons of two scions of elite moralism. First, in the person of Reagan, with his Californian scrupulousness and throwback to old-timey Hollywood—with all of the American exceptionalism coded in. And second, in what followed for another four years, another term of Republican rule in the form of upstanding CIA-style technocracy, in the person of the elder Bush—though H.W. also mixed it with some of the can-do Calvinism of New England WASPS (brilliant).

And then along come a hammer to bash all of this Comstockery into smithereens with some Dionysian fun from the South, a devil from the Bayou in the person of Slick Willy, a good ol’ boy from Arkansas with a thick drawl that spoke of marshes and barbecue sauce. It was like for twelve years we’d been attending some Heritage Foundation conference, complete with $500 tables (or, more likely $5,000) and suddenly some greasy libertine who souped-up his neighbor’s cars for a living had now crashed the event and taken over the microphone (never mind the cleverness of Bill’s working class disguise, which lopped over and around his tenure as a Rhodes scholar like a Laudian vestment in reverse).

I’ll never forget the smile on election night, which seemed to already telegraph how much of the tenor, if not the substance, of the times were about to change. Indeed Bill’s own face, the one which that night would induce my skepticism, was a hallmark of the coming era. Unlike those of his 80s Republican forebears, whose narrow features made them a little more difficult to lampoon, Bill’s was a face made for the comic strip. Along with that smile there was the symmetry of those gigantic cheeks, and of course that nose, a proboscis which over the years would so often turn red and sometimes seemed even to grow. He was to become both Rudolph and Pinocchio, at once the odd one out and the liar.

After the steady drip of my father’s nativism throughout my childhood, really the entirety of my conscious years up to that point—I was six when Reagan was elected—I was only now beginning to figure out where I stood. It was becoming clear to me that I was not to follow in his bigoted boots. Which made Election ’92 something of a political inception point, something that ushered in the very drift I’m experiencing right now, thirty years later. It was the first time I became conscious of a swing, of the possibility of this central aisle in American politics. I could feel the change. I wasn’t completely free of the nationalism and xenophobia I grew up with, still prone to repeating my father’s propaganda about white countries (he was a big Pat Buchanan guy). But Bill Clinton’s election had triggered the first stirrings of honest political consciousness on my part. In the 90s, I became aware of myself and my peers as being defined not only by the music we listened to but in our belief in Bill and the Democratic Party. And it was to be a long haul: I was already back in New York at NYU when he was reelected four years later, by that point well on my way in my effort at ditching my working class affects and seeking entry into the rarified climes of the so-called liberal coastal elite.

But what’s as important as having ultimately shed my father’s atavism was having begun my long drift, the one towards the leftward exit from the big tent which I’m finally taking now.

By the time of Clinton’s tome of an autobiography, My Life, which I read cover to cover during the later neocon thicket of the Dubya era, Bill hadn’t been Slick Willy to me for a long time. He’d been a hero. He’d become ensconced into the storybook of past warriors, much the way Obama is looked upon now, as the de facto leader of the party. And just as the memory of the good warrior Obama functioned during the Trump administration, as a carefully placed reminder to hold the party ticket line, to make way for the future good king that shall save us from the present bad one, so too did the memory of Bill furnish that necessary coercive maneuver on the part of the elites seeking to shore up the liberal vote and keep it in line for the next election. In the face of Dubya’s psychotic Middle Eastern rampage, Bill’s face was soothing, especially on the cover of his book, proboscis and all. It was a reminder that we’d only been a couple of hanging chads’ worth away from victory and that we best hold on, never mind that the road to Baghdad had been paved long before Dubya, by Bill’s minions in the CIA. I, of course, fell for it all, hook, line and sinker.

There actually was one meaningful difference between Bill and Obama, though. Contrary to his Democratic heir, Bill had served as an exemplar of a certain type of liberalism—free-thinking, sexually liberated, compassionate—which Obama would slightly temper. It was the kind that had been fought for during the Civil Rights Era and Vietnam War, one which, whether I consciously knew it or not, had informed my every move during my previous adulthood. Indeed, every nascent lesson had come to me under the wing of the Pax Clintonia. Every experience, every benchmark of post-adolescent growth, from high school graduation to moving out of the house to going back to school to moving back to New York, from my first love to my first car accident to my first mosh pit to my first sexual experiment, all were undertaken under the bright aegis of Clintonian liberalism. Bill, our first baby boomer POTUS, had ushered in a countercultural victory—what with his cheeky failures at inhalation—and so far my life was headed in the exact direction of that particular mandate, one that was so carefully balanced within, if not outrightly epitomized by, the winking insouciance of the lothario whose love for Third Way policy was matched only by his lust for workplace sex. And with the dawning of the new millennium just up ahead every decision I made and every milestone I achieved in those early years of adulthood smacked of a last-minute bargain during the End of Days. Only, owing to post-Cold War optimism, it was in reverse. The promised land of liberation from cultural strangleholds had come early, and we were to partake of the harvest freely. We were Generation “Move On.” And, like many during the dark ages before Generation MeToo, before belated conversations about power relations and patriarchy would pose a meaningful challenge to the prerogatives of the counterculture, I had been proud of being a part of it.

That I’m now making for the exit from the big Clintonian tent is actually not the saddest part of this story of disenchantment. That’s merely bittersweet, since I know that I now see the truth, my soon-to-be political homelessness notwithstanding. The scales have fallen from my eyes, as it were. “. . . [W]hereas I was blind, now I see” [Saint Paul].

No, what’s saddest isn’t unregistering from the Democratic Party, but, rather, thinking back to my blindness during the Clintonian era, along with the nauseating pendulum swing to the War on Terror that came fast on its heels. It’s humbling now to see how much darkness had in fact surrounded me and how little I knew of it, like a straggler in the woods at night mistaking the moon for the sun. What today I see as the plain truth, that this New Democrat-Third Way is actually a cleverly disguised dead end, something that is almost consciously tailored by oligarchic forces to forestall economic justice, the very same economic justice that the Democratic Party claims as one of its ideological pillars, was obscured during the Dubya era by something rather maudlin stirring within me, which I feel chagrin even thinking about today. It was the man from Hope’s smile on the cover of his book. I used to look at it longingly after reading passages of his autobiography, all of the studiously reproduced details of his administration, no doubt culled from endless minutes and meeting transcripts, of his intervention in Sarajevo, of his steadfastness during the government shutdown, of his long, post-Monica affinity for sleeping on the living room couch. It was thrilling, like reading about what the Kingdom of Earth was like up in the castle during my very first years as an adult. I’d finish a long passage and close the book and look at his face on the cover. My brain would be addled by the ubiquitous “Hail to the Chimp” renderings circulating the media of then present-day POTUS. I would look into that smile, the one that had fostered such visceral distrust back in ’92, and instead see a bright glimmer of hope during a time of war. I would think, “Save us from the chimp.”

I need to have sympathy for myself in thinking back to the bamboozlement of all of this. The con job’s a tough one to crack. I could not have known how intoxicated I was back then while I was so entranced by Bill’s face; I could not have known how much this movement was scripted, how my consent was so maneuvered, the puppeteering of it all. In the same way that a mother props up a stuffed toy on her lap and animates it with her hand and tricks her newborn into gleeful smiles, so the duopoly had successfully manipulated my own credulity around this figure of Bill the Savior, the previous good-guy whose book we should now read to keep the home fire burning during times of darkness when the bad guy is the king. Keep it burning, they say, for the good king shall rise again, just you wait. Only, of course, another bad king shall rise in his wake as assuredly as this current bad king lives and breathes. And onward and so on and so forth into the horizon like a flock of sheep.

What’s really scandalous to me is thinking back to how I’d read Bill’s book and incanted this ritual at thirty thousand feet, in business class, with the loud background roar of jet turbines constantly reminding me that I was a “Somebody-Headed-Somewhere.” This was when I played with the band Interpol, when I very busy touring and performing across the globe. I was making a lot of very popular music, making a lot of money and making a lot of appearances.

I guess it only makes sense, then, how I failed so spectacularly to see what is plainly evident today, how Clinton’s Democrats were not all very different from Reagan’s, nor, for that matter, from Republicans in general. It makes sense to me now how I stayed in the dark, how that smile, as I gazed longingly at Bill on the cover of his book, could offer me such misplaced hope. The chief difference between Bill and George was that the former’s vision of America made room for cherished liberal ideals, specific ones, though, the ones that made for good news and party enlistment, ideals centered around racial equality and the right to choose. Beyond that, there was very little. Let’s not be obtuse. Sure, it’s pretty likely Gore wouldn’t have brought us to Iraq, though I think we can now see that something just as troubling as, say, Obama’s drones would’ve arisen. After all, they always, Republican or Democrat, find a way to appease the brass. This is to say nothing of the gutting of American manufacturing, of course, nor anything else regarding the working class.

There was still relative prosperity for many back then, so we still weren’t at a time for rallies around minimum wage and healthcare to be viable seat fillers. At the end of the day, only the specter of “the other side” gaining power satisfied the political consumer’s appetite for bread and circuses. That’s still a problem today, but it was believed in much more prevalently back then. Obviously, there were plenty of people at the time who could see past the propaganda, like I only have gotten around to at this relatively late juncture. There were no doubt many Lefties to go around. But, pre-Bernie, they were living in an even more profound darkness than today. I certainly didn’t even know they existed. I didn’t even know what a Lefty was.

I was too drunk on the Clintonian-countercultural promise, the rise of the enlightened liberal outlook, the world of Move-On where the sexual advances, and even abuses, of a lecherous boss should before anything be understood as honest desire and that to litigate it is the worst—read, most Republican—offense any good liberal could ever hope to make. It was an attractive carrot to hold in front of the libs, back during less complicated moments for sexual liberation. But that promise should’ve always been qualified, heavily, since its noble valence of a world free of intrusive oversight, sexual domination and gendered coercion, without the necessary correlate of economic justice, easily curdles into its more cynical variant of a consumer-driven hedonic paradise. There are still problems with a party that leads with the counterculture even in the best case, since all of that Berkeley campus gusto did very little to address the growing income inequality. For my part, the bargain was as conspicuous as it was reductive. It amounted to a basic fact around heteronormativity, hormones and rising social capital, all realities that proved themselves to be in my case—somewhat embarrassingly in hindsight—worthy of electability ipso facto.

I can see pretty clearly now that the buy-in to the duopoly, forever toggling between good and bad kings, politics as cinematic kayfabe, was deeply aligned with my class interests at the time. At the end of the day, the Admirals Club really only votes in one direction, even when they cast their vote for the “good guy.” They think that they’re voting to help the little guys when they vote-blue-no-matter-who. If you spend enough time on cable news or reading literary journals like The New York Times, then, yes, of course, you will believe that these are the good guys. And speaking for myself as an erstwhile member, I had completely drunk the New Democrat Kool-Aid. How could I not have? I grew up during its regime. And my moral vanity was now benefitting from its dibs. I had failed to make the connection, that, for people with my class interests, the difference between a Democrat and a Republican in office is merely a matter of window dressing. We well-off liberals are made to endure periods of four or eight years wherein some group of people we don’t like have put up curtains that we find tacky. But in terms of the structure of the house, its foundation, its plumbing, its electricity, there is no real difference. The lights stay on regardless. And in order to evade having to look squarely in the face of this “inconvenient truth” we buy in wholesale into the kayfabe and convince ourselves that the scripted professional wrestling is actually a real match. And so, rather disingenuously, we believe that we are voting for the little guy when we vote-blue-no-matter-who but in fact we are only voting for ourselves and our class interests. That middle aisle that everyone always seems to think is so very wide, such a giant chasm, is actually quite narrow, not much wider than the one I knew so well up above in the airplane in business class, only about as wide, in fact, as the opening of an unfolded wallet.

- - - - - -

Today, I became an Independent. I sent in the form. I do not say this jubilantly. It’s a statement of a kind of homelessness, of a drifting into the woods. The value of growing up during Clinton’s time, of having a more compassionate politics than that of my parents, had certainly been accomplished. But like any tutelage under the wing of a corporate Democrat, it came with a price tag, one that today I can no longer afford. There is no party for me, at least for now. So there’s no chance of setting myself down firmly at a table. Maybe I’ll go Green. I tend to be skeptical of third parties, but that could change. My drift continues.

I know I’m not reinventing the wheel with this decision. I know that Independents have been growing ever since Reagan began the decades-long, successful luring of the working class away from the Democrats. I also know that my own class interests are very different from these people. So I’m not looking to gain credit by making a play to join their ranks. I don’t have that ability since, for a while now and for all intents and purposes, I've been a member of the managerial class.

But from this point forward I intend to hold solidarity with their class interests, not mine. Because I’m not the one suffering. They are. It sucks it took me this long to leave this tacky, tired party, this party that has sold out this class of people over and over again for decades, and which continues to do so. But better late than never, I suppose.

The real reason I’ve written this post, though, is not to litigate my various disappointments over the years. I’m sure it has sounded that way. But I can only trust that I went into a historical account to serve its necessary expositional role. This has been a long journey. One that began during a very different time.

The real reason I’ve written all of this down is to address the curious feeling I’ve had since I’ve made this decision. I’ve crossed some other aisle I never knew existed, the one between the people with political addresses and those without them. I’m beginning to sense that there is some other affiliation here, one that puts me with strange bedfellows, people with some views that I can never support, but whose realities and experiences I somehow sympathize with. What unites me with these people is our missing political addresses. Within the bifurcated panopticon of Red/Blue politics there seems to be no other valence than the digital toggle, the on/off switch between the two parties. I ask, then: where’s the dimmer? I long for shades of colors. At the very least, irrespective of our views on religion, sex, racism, patriarchy and so on, I have one very important point of solidarity with all of these latter-day strange bedfellows: a rejection of the binary. Or at least, a rejection of that binary.

It feels way different. Even almost like a betrayal. I have come to believe so forthrightly in progress and in all of the forms of justice that our country sorely lacks, racial and otherwise. Naturally, this won’t change for me, but it still feels almost verboten to go the economic justice route, because I’ve believed that the other forms of justice should come first before anything else. I have brothers and sisters to think of, fellow humans that I care about with whom I wish never to waver in my solidarity. It’s just that now I’ve come to believe that the best way to fortify that pact is through a labor union. And, sadly, we don’t live in a particularly union-heavy universe, which means needing to take this torch, the torch of the working class, up first.

Drifting leftwards . . . .

Yes, very strange times indeed. I think it’s why those words keep wafting into my field of attention, when I’m walking the dog or decorating the tree. The drift is gradual. It’s not that I’m kicking myself out into the street after an eviction. It’s a slow process of untethering, of slackening the leash until I’m out there in the wilderness. It feels as though I’ve just now taken a very important step in that process, kind of like the feeling of the car dropping you off at the trailhead with nothing but a backpack on and no one around.

There’ll be rallies in the future, sure. There’ll be chances to break bread with fellow travelers. But the likelihood that any of these efforts will result in real power, real change and real meaning is very low. Interestingly, I almost wrote just now that the reason for this absence of potential is that we don’t have the numbers, but that’s actually not true. All of these policies poll extremely well. They are prima facie net goods. No one says no to a government check. There are so many sleepy would-be socialists out across this great land. We do have the numbers. We just don’t have a working class with class consciousness. They are not permitted to, not under the current system. And so long as the working class sleeps, nothing will ever change. Power concedes nothing.

This is a dark vision, yes. But the acknowledgment of surrounding darkness is itself a form of light. Because it induces you to light a candle, a tiny little light of truth that you can use to light your way as you amble through the catacombs. I can’t say that I’m happy that I’m going to spend the rest of my days in the wilderness. But I will enjoy it greatly when I begin to see another faint light in the distance, another candle lit for someone else’s path, and draw closer to it so that when the twain shall meet, bread will be broken, stories will be told, feelings will be exchanged and, with this nourishment in the belly, the two shall separate again and drift on until the next time.

[dainty-fingertips]

a date, i guess! ||koichi zenigata x fem!reader

This is my first post on this account! Hope you enjoy my little oneshot of zen :)

word count: 1855

summary: you are the newest member of the lupin gang. lupin says that you guys are meeting up at a french restaurant to discuss plans for a heist, but it seems they all had other plans; plans to set you up on a date with zenigata, to be exact.

trigger warnings:  none :)

||

      Lupin beamed upon seeing where her gaze had landed. That quirky grin smeared itself onto his lips and he placed his head in his hands, creasing his maroon overcoat as he stared at her. She had always been his source of vague amusement, but this? This was gold. The group of five, including Jigen, Goemon, and Fujiko, were at a French hotel-restaurant, supposedly planning out the big heist for the next night; and apparently a certain inspector had figured out where they were meeting.

      The thief had suspected Yn had feelings for Zenigata, but had no real evidence to base it off of. This, however, with her cheeks red and her eyes looking over to the poorly disguised inspector every few seconds? How much more obvious can you get? She had helped Lupin, too, by noticing where he was. He was wearing a tacky purple and gold striped button up and black denim pants, and she had no idea why. She frowned slightly, somewhat shamefully wishing he had his usual frumpy trench coat she liked so much. He wasn’t wearing his hat either, allowing his short charcoal locks to get some light. Fujiko nudged her. “You’ve been in space this entire time. What’s on your mind?” She questioned off-handedly. Goemon moved his attention over to her, his dark brown eyes filled with an apathetic sort of curiosity. “I’ve noticed too. You of aren’t much use if you aren’t even here.” Yn quickly snapped her eyes back over in front of her, clearly flustered from being caught in her Zenigata-induced daze. “Oh, sorry.” She chuckled bashfully. She was worried they were beginning to not like her. 

      Lupin put his hands on the table, his playful brown eyes glimmering as they normally did. “It’s fine! Besides, if I saw a peacock in a petting zoo, I’d be staring too.” She stared at him blankly. “I mean… he’s right there.” She shrugged, glancing back to him. He nodded his head, that stupid grin still present. “I figured you’d be the first to notice.” She furrowed her eyebrows a bit and pursed her lips. “What…” Lupin straightened up and snickered. “‘What are you talking about?’ That’s what you were gonna ask, right?” The group stayed silent except for Jigen, who asked Lupin what he was going on about. Fujiko’s slim eyebrows knotted together, signaling to Yn that at least Fujiko was just as lost as she is. Jigen showed no expression, but that was to be expected.       “Well, you see, I may have given Pops a little anonymous tip.”

      “Arsene Lupin.” She said, her expression growing grim.

      “-The third.” He shot back cockily.

      She huffed through clenched teeth. The thief snickered again, happily shutting his eyes as he did so. “I know, right? Figured it would be a good way for the two of you to get introduced.” Goemon glared at Lupin, a disappointed look on his pale face. “You know,” He began, sighing and folding his hands in front of him. He closed his eyes in annoyance. “I feel everyone is entitled to be stupid every now and again, but you abuse that privilege.” Lupin shrugged and looked up. “We’ve all had our special little rendezvous’ with Pops, haven’t we?” Jigen, Fujiko, and Goemon all sat in knowing silence. They all had, in fact. Lupin nodded with a smile. “Well, you see, she hasn’t gotten that privilege yet. What better than a candlelit dinner?” She looked nervously at the man; an expression that really wasn’t so much in fear, but simply in awe at his audacity. “What— I have to go sit down and eat with him?” She mumbled, growing anxious. Lupin winked. “Bingo! Since you seem to already have an eye out for him, it should be no problem, right?” 

      She felt like she was trapped in limbo. “I wonder how much better the world would be if you had gotten enough oxygen at birth.” She grumbled lowly. Fujiko aired an amused ‘hm.’ and looked over at Lupin. “Agreed.” He scoffed, putting the back of his hand to his forehead in a fake swoon. “The audacity. The betrayal!” He soon began to laugh and nudged Jigen. Jigen eyed him before he stood up out of the booth and walked around the table, grabbing Yn’s arm. “You were in on this too?” She snapped at him. Jigen snickered and yanked her up and out of the seat. She quickly caught her balance and swerved around to face him. He then shoved her away from the table and stood in front of the seats, ready to block her from returning to her seat.

      Jigen had a surprising amount of upper body strength for a gunslinger, but she knew she could probably land a few hits. However, they were in a very public restaurant in a very public area. It wasn’t worth the repercussion of getting thrown out. She scowled angrily at both him and Lupin before hesitantly turning around. There he was, in his funky outfit, hands clasped together and eyes looking out for any sight of Lupin’s gang. He had an iced water in front of him. Luckily they were in the very back, so he didn’t seem to notice them. He was facing to her left behind a waist high divider with a small slit near the top.

      She walked in the opposite direction he was facing, to the right. She figured it might be a bit safer if she approached him from behind. She rounded the corner and saw him near the front of the row, his back facing her. He ran a hand through his soot black hair and ruffled it a bit. She carefully approached him, slowly beginning to think that ugly shirt was more form-fitting than she’d anticipated. She passed the table directly behind him and slowed down her pace to the point she nearly stopped. This was terrible, and she’d never forgive Lupin for doing this to her.

      “Ins-Inspector?” She called, fumbling her words immediately. This truly was the worst. Zenigata quickly whipped his head around. “Wh- YN?” He yelled in response, disrupting the people behind him. She quickly put her finger to her lips. “Y-Yes, be quiet!” He carefully shrunk back in his chair and looked at her suspiciously. “That letter taped to my door said I’d be meeting someone to discuss something important. Are you the person?” He quizzed. Having no knowledge of what the letter read, she assumed Lupin had planned this exact scenario. She huffed in blatant annoyance. “Yes, sir.” He let out a small ‘hmph.’ And motioned for her to sit down, but he too seemed a bit nervous. 

She bit her cheek and took a seat across from him. “So,” he began, looking down at his water. “Why did one of Lupin’s thugs wanna meet me here, huh?” Thug? Is… is that what he thought of her? Technically, she was a part of a gang, but she didn’t hold herself like that. “With all due respect, inspector, I don’t know what makes you think that about me.” She frowned slightly. Zenigata looked up, slightly more wide-eyed than before. “Wait! T-That’s not what I— urgh.” He rubbed his temples. “I don’t think that about you, per se.” he mumbled in a slightly softer tone of voice. “You were just the last person I expected. I figured it’d be Jigen if anyone.” Did… he have a script he was following? The thought made her mouth curl into a soft grin. 

“Did the letter say it would be someone of Lupin’s?” She questioned, folding her arms in her lap. He groaned aggravatedly and pinched his nose. “Of course he’d do this. Did you even know about this?” He sighed, seeing her shake her head. “I thought I was supposed to meet them here to discuss something, but apparently that was not the deal.” She laughed dryly. Zenigata shot up. “They’re here?” He called, scanning the room.

She eyed where they were when she was forcefully pulled out of her seat, and it seemed they had all left right after she did. The booth was empty. Some friends, eh? She sighed through her nose. “No, sir.” He frowned and sat back down. “Oh.” He said softly. The disappointment in his voice was clear as day, which made her slightly sad. “Sorry, Zenigata.” He shook his head. “Why are you apologizing? Those weasels left you here by yourself with no clue what to do!” He quickly pulled the folded note out of his pants pocket. “Here, read the note.” She nodded and took it from his hand, and just like in every romance: their fingers brushed. She bit her cheek again and pulled her arm away a bit quicker, and he did the same. She didn’t catch it, but his cheeks grew slightly redder than they were before 

She opened the note with curiosity and immediately clicked her tongue in distaste. 

Dear Zenigata,

      I have oh-so important news to share with you. Something terrible has happened and you’re the only one who can help! ...Just kidding. It’s Lupin! Someone special is going to be meeting you tonight, 10pm, at the Hôtel d’Maigot, the French hotel/restaurant. If you want some very special info from a very special friend of mine, I recommend you head down there. Toodles!

P.S. Jigen says hi.

P.P.S So does Fujiko. I wish they would have said something when I was writing, but what can you do. Goemon and Yn aren’t here or I’m sure they would have said hi, too.

She sighed and folded the letter again, handing it back to Zenigata. “Yep. I was told nothing.” He scoffed. “That’s incredibly rude.” He murmured. He sipped his water, and the waitress approached. “Evening. Can I get you a drink?” She asked, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear. Yn nodded her head. “Water with lemon, please.” The woman smiled softly and sent her a thumbs-up. “Right on it.” She spun around on her heel and walked away. Yn turned back to Zenigata and placed her head in her hands. “Inspector, it’s clear that they are just trying to set us up on some blind date or something.” She mumbled shyly.

“I’m not complaining, but please don’t feel forced to stay if you are busy.” She added with a sort of frown.

“Not— hey, what do you mean?”

Her face began heating up and she put her hands back in her lap. “I mean, ah, I’d enjoy a dinner with you if you’d have me.” She murmured quieter than before. Her cheeks were clearly red, but hopefully he wouldn’t notice in the dim light. “You… want this to be a… a date?” It seemed Zenigata was getting flustered too. She bit the inside of her lip and shrunk back in her chair. “Only if you want.” 

Zenigata cleared his throat and tried to brush off his burning cheeks. “Well, if you insist! You’ll probably tell me something I need to know about Lupin, anyway.” He called, feigning confidence. A small grin cracked onto the corners of her lips. “A date it shall be, then.”