#would this have been a better/more appropriate post to make yesterday?

[love-fireflysong]

Does anyone else remember when I went crazy and decided it would be a great idea to write and post ELEVEN different short ud fics last Valentine's Day? Cause I sure as hell do lol.

So for those out there that want to read an eclectic mix of chrashley/climbing chrash (with a single jossam fic thrown in for flavour lol) fluff and angst, then have I got the collection for you as a (late) V-day gift!

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

Just had the wild realisation that I can write whatever I want here. This is a thing that I am allowed to do. I can scream into the void. I don't have to tag my posts. Grammar is a social construct. It doesn't matter who's listening. The people I love and who love me will talk to me posts or no posts. Someone's going to read this and smile. Even if it's just me.

I can watch only the finales of shows to see their happy endings. I can eat cornflakes in the afternoon. I can go into bookstores just to creepily stare at the hardcovers of Victorian literature. I can write meticulous notes for subjects I'm not studying, and highlight it to Pinterest perfection. I can tell people I want to bite them out of sheer love. I can write long emails to my friends about weird slippers that remind me of them.

I can tell you that it's been a hot year, the hottest one to date, and that April hasn't seen a single drop of rain fall onto the earth. But it's hanging in the air, making it heavy with moisture and that relentless, relentless heat. It's muggy and the swamp theme I chose for my bullet journal couldn't be more appropriate. I can tell you how I keep singing that song in my head, Corner Of My Sky, the one whose music video has Michael Sheen wrangling with an occult toaster. "The rain, the rain, the rain, thank god the rain."

I can tell you anything I like. I can tell you that I'm afraid of being forgotten, that I've always longed to be famous, that I have a hard time not caring about every single little thing. I can tell you that I'm ace and I'm afraid that no one will ever love me the way I need them too, even if I love them the way that they need me to. I can tell you the nightmares have gotten better, but they're still there, they don't seem to want to leave me. I can tell you that I'm so much more ill and broken than I dare think about. Because I am afraid that if I start thinking about it, I shan't stop, and then it will become everything. And I don't want it to be everything. I can tell you that. I can tell you that I have beautiful memories, too, not just the fear and the loss and the anger.

I can tell you that I'm a performer, an entertainer, and I love making people laugh. I'm more comfortable on stage, where people are already listening, than trying to go up and make conversation to groups of strangers. I can tell you how wonderful it feels to have been able to speak to so many people all around the world, to have them know me, to listen to me, and to listen to them in turn. I can tell you that I don't know where to draw the line sometimes, I'm never entirely sure when I'm joking, and the act easily becomes a second skin. I can tell you all of that.

I can tell you all the things that I used to tell myself in letters sealed in envelopes addressed to Future Me. And it won't matter, and it does matter, and it's all so fucking absurd. It doesn't make any sense at all. Does it? I don't know. I can tell you that I don't know very much at all. Knock knock. Who's there? No one. No one who? No one who matters. Knock knock. I haven't been able to walk around for a month. This room is an oven and I'm being slow-cooked, broiled into a little Asmi pie. I read fanfiction yesterday after a long while. That was nice. I think it's really cool that you all know me. You do know me. Sometimes better than I know myself. I can tell you that.

I can tell you the truth. I can tell you I love you. And that to be seen and to be known is a gift that I will always be grateful for. I can tell you that you don't have to listen. But if you do, then hi! Nothing makes sense. Let's sit in the nonsense for a while. I have biscuits. Would you like one? I'm very human. It's one of the things that gets me so easily hurt. Maybe it happens to you too. I can tell you that my plant Crowley is surviving, unlike the others did. I can tell you that maybe you and I are, too.

It's 8:02 in the morning. I might just eat breakfast now. It does seem like the thing to do. How weird and wonderful that is.

[i-actually-post-stuff]

In celebration of Spones day I remembered that I never posted the written submission for the @sponeszine after the waiting period was over! I'll have more to post today for Spones day! Something I that I actually made for the day 😂

For now, the unedited version of my zine entry:

A03 Link

“Now, what's this, Spock? Cookin’, or biological warfare?” McCoy eyed Spock's potluck contribution; a mixture of colorful unfamiliar baked vegetables, piping in the bath of sauce and spices, all served in complement with a steamed Vulcan grain that he recognized but didn't remember the name of. But, the spice from the stuff was practically overpowering without him even eating it. It made his eyes water like getting too close to the smoke from a fire. 

In all honesty, it seemed exciting. McCoy wasn't a loather of spice. He liked spicy chili, hot pot, jerk chicken, spiced rum; all kinds of tasty things that’d make his mouth burn. It wasn't that he disliked the idea of trying the dish at all; it was that he wanted Spock to tell him about it, and with Spock, an insult always worked better than a request.

“If I was attempting biological warfare, Doctor, I would have not chosen such an obvious method as poisoning you via food.” Spock paused to consider McCoy’s initial jab. “I am lucky to have found Vulcan ingredients in such abundance in the market. All of the vegetables and spices are Vulcan in origin, and the grain is myropses, which has been grown on Vulcan since the early days of space travel, when it was first imported.” he knew McCoy’s game at this point, it seemed, and he looked like he was taking an un-Vulcan-like pride in his recreation of the dish. “I ruminated on what to prepare for quite a long time yesterday evening.” 

McCoy leaned in a bit to really admire his work while he listened. It did look absolutely mouthwatering.

“You are unaware of this; Vulcan cuisine exists on what you would call two ends of a spectrum; unflavored meals focused on texture and, in contrast, meals that take full advantage of the spices available on Vulcan.” the corners of his mouth quirked up—subtly, but certainly fiendishly. “I only used a small fraction of the traditional spices for this dish. Perhaps I should have made a tasteless dish, in order to suit your palette more appropriately,” he insulted. 

McCoy resisted a simple; bite me. “Maybe I should’a made some spicy harissa aubergine pie. Had you put those Vulcan taste buds to the test,” he genuinely considered. “Lucky for your Vulcan ego, I just made some sweet peach pies.”

“Then, perhaps I'll show you the fault in your thinking that any Human spice would adequately phase my palate on another day,  doctor.”

“You’d-”

He was promptly cut off by Jim awkwardly ringing the little dinner-bell he'd replicated. The entire potluck crowd straightened up and looked to the captain. 

It was truly a wonderful sight laid out on the several large tables in front of them. The Enterprise cultural exchange potluck was many a crewmember's favorite time of year, including McCoy’s. There were so many tantalizing looking breakfasts, lunches, dinners, and desserts scattered across the table, and even more odd looking ones. Jim had been wise enough this year to separate the dishes by smell, after the absolute fiasco of smells from the last year's contributions. It certainly made where he was standing all the more dangerous for his sinuses. But, no one would be skipping over his pie sitting on the opposite table because of the magma incarnate Spock had brought along.

“Everyone, welcome, to the annual Enterprise potluck. Today we celebrate, where we came from, the people, we surround ourselves with and choose to care for now, and, the way that our strength is in what each, individual, one of us, brings to the table—because our differences are the exact thing that make, wonderful times like this, possible. I,, remember all those complaints last year about the length of my speech, and all I have to say, is, shame on you all for not enjoying the only thing I can bring to this table. You, don't, want my cooking here,” he got a light chuckle from the crowd, “and, dig in.” He stepped down from his spot at the head of the intersection of tables as everyone rushed for their plates. 

McCoy really did try to seem like he wasn't in a hurry to taste test Spock's special Vulcan dish that he'd so considerately made palatable for human consumption, but it was the third thing that he'd put on his first plate, and Spock definitely took notice, looking at him from across the table. And McCoy took note of that look, and the peach pie slice on Spock's dessert plate. That eased him. He'd actually been fairly concerned that Spock wouldn't like what he brought to the table this year; Vulcans weren't exactly known for being avid lovers of dessert. And the two years before, he hadn't gotten to participate. 

As he made his way to Jim's side at one of the sitting tables, he found himself troubled with the idea of Spock eating his pie. He knew he'd put a lot of effort into making it just right, and he knew that it was probably one of the best damn things at the entire potluck. But it was also the first time Spock was going to try his cooking. What are you sweating for, McCoy? It doesn't matter what Spock thinks. Get it together. He couldn't fathom why Spock's judgment on the matter seemed to get him so anxious.

Spock sat on the other side of Jim. McCoy eyed up his plates. Despite the many other wonderfully colorful dishes Spock had decided to sample, he couldn't help but lock his eyes on his own slice of pie on that dessert plate. He briefly considered causing a scene; doing something, anything, to get rid of that slice on Spock's plate. He won the battle with himself and forced himself to calm down, of course, but the whole thing just made him feel silly. 

He took a deep breath, double checked to make sure he had his little shot glass of milk, and took a bite of Spock's cooking. 

It was incredible.

The vegetables were crisp on the outside and tender on the inside. The perfect texture, easy to chew and easy to savor. As his teeth bit through them, the juice went straight to his taste buds, sweet and sour. But the method of cooking added something else; a kind of char, almost like it had been grilled; or, maybe that was one of the spices. That's when the first wave of spice hit. Whatever it was, it was intense, prickling at his tongue and down his throat, then right up into the sinuses. It was a good burn, like the first time he tried Thai food. The spice playing in harmony with all those flavors, pairing so perfectly with the plain, grounding taste of the grain, and just begging to be chased with a nice smooth drink. Then the second wave hit, and he sniffled a little as his nose started running. He held a napkin over his nose and mouth and let it run for a second, not wanting to give away that the third wave, the aftertaste, was making his eyes burn. He shut them. 

There was no doubt. Spock was a damn good cook.

He subtly wiped his nose and took half his shot of milk, wishing that he had gotten a full glass and didn't have to save the other half for what was left of it… and also wishing that he had a bigger stomach, to go back and get more without sacrificing the capacity to try all the rest of the food he’d piled on his plates. He cleared his throat, the remnants of the spices tickling where the milk hadn't entirely soothed.

Then, he subtly looked over to Spock. 

Spock was sitting there, looking as though he hadn't even started eating, like something was on his mind; not something troubling him, more so that he was ruminating on something he found important. He knew the man, after all—he knew what the look on his face was. The Vulcan was definitely thinking about something very important to him. So important that he hadn't touched anything on his plates—Leonard did a double take.

Spock had touched one thing on one of his plates. McCoy's slice of pie, which was completely gone. Briefly, he was flattered, before realizing all of the different things that that could mean. 

Maybe Spock hated it. Maybe it’d put him off eating all together. Or maybe he hadn't checked the little ingredient card in front of it closely enough, and it had something he couldn't eat, and now he was considering the validity of calling the whole thing off for himself and going back up to the ship to pretend that he wasn't having a reaction to it. Or, maybe he was trying to think of the best possible insult to grant him after the meal. Well, two can play at that, Spock! Yours is—well, it was perfect. It was just great; he couldn't think of a bad thing to say that wasn't just insulting himself for not having a Vulcan tolerance. 

Maybe Spock was thinking the same thing. Well, not exactly the same thing. 

Maybe Spock was thinking that he wished he'd tried his cooking sooner. Maybe, just like McCoy was, he was wishing that they’d just cooked for each other so they didn't have to worry about leaving out all the other wonderful things there were to eat on their plates. 

No, not Spock. The man doesn't even eat breakfast. He only ever eats what he needs to survive unless it's in the name of being diplomatic. It seemed inconceivable that the Vulcan could be thinking of something so worldly as having another bite of something delicious. 

“Since when are you a slow eater, Bones?” Jim remarked, nudging his shoulder knowingly. 

“It's called pacing yourself, Jim. Good for big meals like this. ‘N I'll recommend it to you if you don't slow down.” he gestured to Jim's half finished plate. “You even chewing? You're gonna give yourself a stomach ache.”

Jim huffed with a bit of amusement, both of them knowing that McCoy was just crabby about being caught staring at Spock and wondering what he thought of his food.

Leonard took a bite of something else on the plate to avoid more ridicule, listening as Jim turned to Spock and said, “not hungry, Spock?” 

Whatever game he was playing. 

Sure, everything at the potluck that McCoy had put on his plate tasted incredible. There wasn't a single thing he regretted, even the things that squirmed under his fork—a bit like octopus with soy sauce, he considered, and he knew better than to be put off—but nothing stuck in his head quite like Spock's silly little spicy vegetable dish. He was embarrassed, finding his thoughts drifting over and over again to a hypothetical situation of him walking up to Spock and asking about the recipe.

On one hand, it felt a whole lot like praising the enemy. The little game that they played that neither of them were supposed to really win didn't work that way. Sure, the occasional compliment on the other's competency slipped out on occasion. But asking the man to make him dinner was a whole ‘nother thing. It was so… domestic. And the thought of sitting down in one of their quarters over a Vulcan meal that Spock had put so much time and effort into preparing seemed a bit too much like him asking Spock on a date for his comfort. Although, it didn't sound like a bad date. It sounded like a very good date. In fact, it sounded like the best possible date with Spock he could think of in that moment.

In that train of thought, he considered that it might even be a bit of a show of strength on his part; a brag that he was able to handle it. One of his ways of teasing him that was more of a compliment, despite its disguise as a boast.

He thought back and forth on it until just about everyone at their table had finished everything on their plates. Not that he noticed until Spock intruded behind him.

“Doctor.” 

He looked back over his shoulder at Spock, playing with the last thing on his plate with his fork. “Spock,” he acknowledged.

“We will be in orbit of this planet for 57 more of your Earth hours. I intend to acknowledge your challenge. You will inform me of what time would work best for you. Then, we will meet and you will prepare a dish for me that you believe would adequately test my Vulcan taste buds.”

He was stunned for a moment, of course. Spock had beat him to it. He practically did everything but schedule the date. But McCoy was too quick a thinker to sit there with his mouth hanging open about it. “All right, Spock. Only if you take me to the market and show off your fancy Vulcan veggies and spices.” He wouldn't let Spock be in charge of the whole situation without a fight.

“Acceptable,” Spock immediately acknowledged, almost as if he would accept any condition.

“And, one more thing.” McCoy pushed his luck.

“Yes?” Spock shifted uncomfortably, as if he was worried- if McCoy didn't know better than to think such a thing about a distinguished Vulcan like Spock. 

“You're gonna make this for me again the night after we leave orbit.”

[rosie-b]

True Blue

Chapter 15: Trust Falls

“Marinette.” Gabriel cut her off with a solemn voice. “Listen to me. Adrien started wearing a ring last evening.” 

Marinette blinked in confusion. 

“Okay? Is that relevant to Golden Bug checking on civilians?” 

“Yesterday, you told Golden Bug to switch his Miraculous with Chat Grise. He would have to stop wearing his earrings and start wearing a ring instead. Just like Adrien did,” M. Agreste exclaimed, raising his voice. 

Marinette’s heart stopped.

You can read the rest on AO3 or below!

The akuma battle went flawlessly— from Golden Bug and Chat Grise’s perspectives, at least. Bluewing and Hawk Moth lost again.  

Marinette found herself distracted by the akuma throughout the battle, which contributed to their loss. She knew they were the innocent doubts of a civilian, but she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Adrien was right when he accused Hawk Moth of manipulating people into becoming victims of his akumas. Each time the purple butterfly mask flashed over Reverser’s eyes, she remembered the pained look that had flashed over Nathaniel’s face when the same thing happened to him as Evillustrator. She remembered the way another person had seemed to take over his mind on the boat, forcing him to tie her to the railing and threaten her life. 

She remembered what it felt like to be just a pawn. And she wondered. 

There hadn’t been enough time for Golden Bug and Chat Grise to exchange their Miraculous, so there was no advantage for Bluewing to hide the weakness of her wandering thoughts behind. The battle took a turn for the better when Golden Bug and Chat Grise were each struck by Reverser’s paper airplanes, but despite how indecisive Golden Bug became and how boomingly loud Chat Grise was, making it impossible for her to hide, Bluewing ultimately lost to the power of Lucky Charm. 

And her fan got Cataclysmed. Again. 

Overall, though, Marinette managed to avoid botching the battle; after all, it was thanks to her distractions that Reverser was able to hit Golden Bug and Chat Grise. (She hadn’t expected the flirty line she’d pilfered from Adrien’s repertoire to have such an effect on Golden Bug, but she wasn’t complaining. It had been satisfying to be the one making  him blush and trip over his feet, for once.) 

She’d have to try that trick again sometime— if it was appropriate, of course! All she wanted to do was trip Golden Bug up and create an opening for the akuma. Her flirting with Golden Bug was nothing if not professional.  

Professional, like Bluewing was when she took the opportunity after her defeat to inform Hawk Moth that Golden Bug and Chat Grise would likely be switching their Miraculous within the next day or two. 

“What?” Hawk Moth demanded, his voice booming in the earpiece Bluewing had found in the base of her fan after the Miracle Cure restored it post-battle. 

“Golden Bug stopped by my balcony before the fight. He doesn’t suspect me,” she quickly assured Hawk Moth, “He just wanted to make sure I wasn’t in danger of being akumatized because of my nightmare. I pried for a little information,” Marinette said, wincing at the white lie, “And he admitted to feeling like he’s losing to us, even if he wins against the akumas. So I suggested he and Chat Grise switch Miraculous again, to practice in case they ever need to switch Miraculous in a fight again.” 

Hawk Moth growled. “Why would you tell him to do that? It sounds like you want him to be more capable of defeating us!” 

“I know it does, but I have a plan. Before they can get any practice in, we should attack with another akuma. Not now, in case they still haven’t switched, but before too long. Give them a few days to think it over, and then send an akuma; we can catch them off guard and attack with an advantage!” 

Bluewing waited anxiously to hear what M. Agreste would say. It was a risky plan, to be sure, and maybe she was half-motivated by how good Golden Bug looked in black, but she did think her idea was worth a shot! She just hoped that Hawk Moth agreed. 

“I see,” he eventually said with a hum. “This might work. I approve, Bluewing, and I appreciate you taking some initiative. With an attitude like this, we may soon have our victory!” 

“You’re welcome! I hope we do,” Marinette said.  

Yet even as she spoke, doubt coiled in her stomach. Adrien and Golden Bug’s warnings, while probably wrong, wouldn’t leave her alone. 

“Very well. Goodbye for now, Bluewing. Be ready to seize our chance.” 

Hawk Moth hung up, and Bluewing quickly ducked out of her hiding spot to head home. Her work for the day was done. 

__*__*__*__*__

The next day was Saturday, and for once, Marinette had nothing scheduled. So she decided to just relax and try to work through the confusion of the past few days, in honor of Nathalie’s advice. 

As she rinsed her dishes after breakfast, though, Marinette found herself frowning as she tried to prepare herself to meet the new secretary on Monday. She still couldn’t believe Nathalie had just quit! Had the stress of working for Hawk Moth finally gotten to her? Had she just not cared about Adrien and Marinette as much as she seemed to? 

Whatever the reason for Nathalie’s short-notice departure had been, Marinette couldn’t help but feel a bit of resentment toward her for it. After all, Gabriel, Nathalie and she had arguably the most important jobs in all Paris! What could possibly take priority over saving the world? 

Adrien didn’t seem to share the same view, though. If he knew what Nathalie had been helping his father to do, maybe he would have begged her to quit. But then again, maybe he would have finally realized that Hawk Moth and Bluewing were not his enemies. 

Marinette was startled to learn that Adrien didn’t think saving his mother was worth using the Wish, but she was still hopeful that he’d change his mind if he knew the circumstance just a bit better! The problem was that he was used to the narrative of Golden Bug and Chat Grise being the heroes. After all, he was friends with the Goldenblogger herself, and no one hated Hawk Moth more than Alya and the other super-fans of the ‘heroes!’ 

Marinette may have been friends with Alya, too, but she had inside knowledge to protect her from the media’s bias. If only Gabriel had trusted his son with that knowledge from the beginning, they wouldn’t be in such a mess now! Sometimes she wondered if he’d sent Adrien to public school just to keep him away from the house while he was busy with his akumatizations. The thought brought a scowl to Marinette’s face. 

Still, Marinette was determined not to let her doubts and anger get the best of her, so she decided to help her parents in the bakery and then watch a movie to distract herself from her emotions. It worked like a charm at first, but eventually, reality began forcing its way in. Still, Marinette had had worse days. 

Halfway through lunchtime, Marinette’s phone started buzzing with an incoming call. She didn’t think anything of it at first. When she saw it was coming from Gabriel, she was intrigued, since he normally didn’t contact her outside of the mansion.  

She excused herself and answered the call as she made her way to her room. 

“Marinette,” Gabriel said in a low voice. “I have some important information to share with you. It’s critical to our success, so if you are not in one already, get to a secure location. Make sure no one can overhear what I am going to say.” 

Marinette raised an eyebrow. She was in her room now, and no one else was there except Duusu, who was sleeping on one corner of her pillow. They’d seemed pretty wiped out by the trip to Adrien’s room, and so Marinette was letting Duusu rest. She’d asked if anything was wrong, but Duusu said they were fine, it was just the memories of the past decade and a half re-settling in their brain.  

Marinette agreed that that was an awful lot of memories, even for a kwami, and was more than happy to leave Duusu alone until they felt better or until Hawk Moth sent out another akuma. 

“We’re secure,” Marinette confirmed to M. Agreste. “No one is around to overhear.” 

“Good. Now I need you to tell me if Golden Bug has ever contacted you, outside your suit, before.” 

Marinette frowned, her stomach twisting. “Sir, if you think I’m secretly working with him, I assure you, I am not. We are enemies.” 

“I know that,” Gabriel snapped. “Just tell me, has he ever visited your balcony before? He was comfortable enough talking with you to share his own insecurities and take your advice. So tell me, do you know why?” 

“No, I don’t,” Marinette quickly responded. “The first time I met him was during Evillustrator, but we didn’t spend much time together after he rescued me. He did check in on me a while after that, but that was because Adrien asked him to. He thought I was down and wanted to cheer me up. Golden Bug is interested in making sure me and the other civilians are safe from akumatization,” she admitted, feeling her stomach churn. Where was M. Agreste going with this?

“Adrien sent Golden Bug to your balcony? He told you that?” Gabriel sounded stressed by this information, as if his son was supposed to inherently mistrust Golden Bug and never talk to him. 

“Uh, yes. Oh, and Golden Bug also broke into my room to wake me up when Sandboy gave me a nightmare. He didn’t leave until he knew I was okay. Then, since he noticed I was still shaken up, he stopped by again today and I gave him the advice to switch Miraculous after a short chat.” She hesitated, still unsure of M. Agreste’s goal with this conversation. “He’s just really friendly, sir. Why are you asking?” 

Gabriel exhaled sharply and muttered a curse. “Golden Bug cares about you, specifically, far more than any other civilian. I’ve never heard of him checking in on any other akuma targets. He cares about you, Marinette.” 

He sounded upset about that, Marinette noted. But this didn’t sound so unusual to her; checking up on civilians was just something Golden Bug did. As far as she knew, this was normal behavior for him! 

“I’m sure he’s checked in on other people before, M. Agreste. What about after the—” 

“Marinette.” Gabriel cut her off with a solemn voice. “Listen to me. Adrien started wearing a ring last evening.” 

Marinette blinked in confusion. 

“Okay? Is that relevant to Golden Bug checking on civilians?” 

“Yesterday, you told Golden Bug to switch his Miraculous with Chat Grise. He would have to stop wearing his earrings and start wearing a ring instead. Just like Adrien did,” M. Agreste exclaimed, raising his voice. 

Marinette’s heart stopped. M. Agreste thought that his own son was his arch-nemesis? That couldn’t be true. For so many reasons, it couldn’t be true! She had to make Gabriel see reason. 

Taking a deep breath, she ventured, “Just because Adrien started wearing a ring around the same time Golden Bug and Chat Grise might have switched Miraculous, that doesn’t mean that they’re the same person. Maybe Adrien just likes rings! Or maybe he’s taking inspiration from his favorite hero.”  

Marinette’s mind raced as she thought of explanations for this coincidence. It had to be just that, just a trick Mr. Agreste’s mind was playing on him! It was just the stress of being Hawk Moth catching up to him, it had to be! She couldn’t bear to think that she’d been fighting her best friend this whole time. She would have recognized him! Wouldn’t she? 

Gabriel made a dismissive noise. “Marinette, have you ever noticed how Adrien usually wears his hair? It’s not a style I picked for him, though I let him wear it since it frames his face well. But he chose it deliberately to hide his ears, his Miraculous,” he hissed. “Adrien is Golden Bug, and that makes him a traitor!” 

Marinette flinched at Gabriel’s tone. “No, Adrien’s not a traitor!” she cried. 

The words were out of her mouth before she realized what she was saying. Gabriel slowly breathed out, just barely audibly, as if to question her audacious outburst. 

Marinette, too, was surprised by her own words. But Gabriel was acting unstable! If she didn’t speak up, then who would? 

“Adrien’s not a traitor,” Marinette repeated in a quieter voice. “And I’m sure he has a good explanation for his new ring. You should ask him yourself, if you still don’t trust him.” 

Marinette could feel M. Agreste’s glower through the phone. “Miss Dupain-Cheng. There is no other explanation I can think of for this. Golden Bug took a personal interest in you, and Adrien has, too. We both know the depth of his emotions, misplaced though they may be. They share the same sympathies, the same childish behavior, and now they share a ring. Your advice prompted our enemy to reveal himself: Adrien is Golden Bug.” 

“Okay, well, I still think you should ask him first,” Marinette countered, and her heart beat wildly as she spoke. “I don’t believe they’re the same person. Besides, we still don’t have proof that Golden Bug even has Grise’s Miraculous! We shouldn’t jump to conclusions.” 

There was silence on the other end of the line for a minute. 

Then Gabriel spoke. “You’re right, we need proof that they switched Miraculous. Fine! I will discover the truth some other way. Thank you for your honesty, Marinette. You may go back to whatever it is you were doing.” 

He hung up, and Marinette’s shoulders sagged in relief. 

She’d managed to make M. Agreste stop and think. But would it be enough to change his mind? She hoped it was; there was no way Adrien was Golden Bug! 

As if her thoughts had summoned it, Marinette’s phone buzzed with a text from Adrien that moment. Curious, she checked what it was and found that he’d sent her a cat meme, a sure sign that he was bored. 

Silly kitty, she responded to the text. Adrien sent a few cat emojis, and then a longer text. 

Father stuck me with a surprise photoshoot, it read. I’m bored out of my mind and they’re only on styling my hair.  

Marinette giggled, then sobered. Maybe this photoshoot was part of M. Agreste’s plan to find out whether Adrien and Golden Bug were the same person? Was he planning to send an akuma to see if Adrien would suddenly vanish from the set? 

Teen model problems strike again, she responded. Hang in there! I’ll make sure my parents save some extra pastries to give you on Monday to cheer you up.  

Adrien thanked her in his usual, dramatic fashion. She smiled at his effusive texts, happy that they were still such good friends. It meant he didn’t suspect her after the stunt she’d pulled as Bluewing the other day, and that even Dark Cupid couldn’t tear them apart. They were the best of friends, completely the opposite of her relationship with Golden Bug! It was more proof that Adrien was not Golden Bug, regardless of what his father thought. 

Marinette spent a half hour cleaning her room, a rare occasion that had been becoming more necessary each day. Her bad mood from earlier was still threatening to return, but the quick interaction with Adrien left her feeling better than she had all day. 

She just hoped M. Agreste wouldn’t do anything to spoil her afternoon. 

A few minutes later, she received another call from him. Sighing, she picked up, hoping that this time, he was just calling to say she was right and Adrien was not a traitorous enemy withholding a Miraculous from them. (Even if he was Golden Bug, Marinette found herself thinking, that wouldn’t make him a traitor. That particular label could only apply if he’d been told what his father was trying to do from the start and had pretended to side with him.) 

“I am going to send out an akuma shortly,” Gabriel brusquely told Marinette. “Conditions are ripe, and with any luck, we will soon have conclusive proof on whether or not Adrien is Golden Bug. That is what you wanted, correct?” 

Marinette nodded. “Yes. You have taken into account that Adrien is at a photoshoot right now, right? You know I don’t want any akumas to put him in danger.” 

Gabriel sighed. “Just transform, Miss Dupain-Cheng. I am aware of your sensitivities. Rest assured that I am taking the best course of action.” 

Marinette frowned. “Okay, sir. Which way should Bluewing head?” 

“Head towards the park. I haven’t yet akumatized anyone, but I will have my champion soon enough. Oh, and Marinette?” 

“Yes?” 

“Now that Duusu’s brooch is healed, I’m hoping you will take the next step to help me. There is no risk to doing it now, so I want you to create a sentimonster to help us win this fight. Without one, we may fail again, but with a sentimonster of our own, we shall achieve victory. You know what you must do, Bluewing. Do not let me down again.” 

“Sir,” Marinette shot back in a tight voice, “I told you before, I won’t create a senti. They’re not monsters; Adrien is proof enough of that! Whatever I create would have its own mind and life. But Golden Bug and Chat Grise wouldn’t know that; they’d find and break or control the amok, which would violate the senti’s rights. I know you don’t agree with me, but I do believe that creating a senti for the express purpose of battle would be a misuse of the Miraculous power. I will help with this akuma, but you know the boundaries I set. Don’t make me cross them!” 

Silent for a moment, M. Agreste let out a sigh. “Fine, ignore my advice. But I think you will soon agree with me that sentimonsters will be necessary for our victory.” 

As M. Agreste hung up, Marinette struggled to hold in a sigh. Why did he have to be so moody? She understood that his fear of Adrien being Golden Bug would affect his emotions, but that didn’t give him the right to try and force her to break her moral code. He needed to calm down and act reasonably. 

Besides, he was sending an akuma to the park? Plenty of Adrien’s photoshoots were done there. She could only hope the one he was in now was being shot somewhere else. 

Marinette climbed up to her loft, feeling disgruntled. 

“Duusu,” she called, leaning over her bed to gently poke them with a finger. “Duusu, wake up.” 

Duusu opened one violet eye and slowly rose up from the pillow, stretching and yawning. 

“Hello master,” they said. “What is it?” 

“Don’t call me master,” she reminded Duusu. “I’m just Marinette!” 

Duusu blinked. “Oh, right. You are a nice holder, then. But I don’t have many memories of you talking to me yet.” 

Marinette winced. “I wasn’t allowed to talk to you while your brooch was broken. M. Agreste was afraid of what you’d tell me while you were... um, not in your right mind. But now that you’re better, I hope we’ll become closer!” 

Duusu smiled. “I’d like that, ma—e Marinette! But I’m still not completely better; my memory is still fixing itself. Why did you wake me up?” 

“Ah! M. Agreste called and told me that he’s going to create another akuma. We’re going to need to transform and get out there to help him.” 

Duusu hesitated. “A champion? The Guardian must have seen great need to send out a call for Nooroo’s Miraculous to be put in play. Is there some kind of threat to Paris?” 

“Yes,” Marinette said. “But it’s not one recognized by the Guadian. He is the one who created it! This time, Hawk Moth and I are working to undo the harm caused by the Guardian’s rules. We’re doing it to save your old holders, like I saved you. But to do that, we need a Wish.” 

Duusu’s eyes widened. “What? No! Wishes are dangerous, Marinette! If you don’t know what you’re doing, then... bad things happen,” they said, staring off into the distance. “Bad, bad things!” 

Marinette frowned. “Worse will happen if we don’t make the Wish. Has the Guardian lied to you, too? I promise we’re doing what’s best for Paris.” 

But something about the words did not feel right to say.  

Marinette hesitated, then added, “Or at least I am. The last thing I want to do is cause more harm than has already been done to the world.” 

Duusu narrowed their eyes. “Okay, then. Maybe I forgot something else, and I just need to remember what happened. Should we go, then?” 

Marinette nodded. “Thank you for trusting me, Duusu. Spread my feathers!” 

As soon as her transformation ended, Bluewing headed out to the park. Along the way, she saw a horde of people carrying posters of Adrien from the perfume ad he’d recently starred in.  

“What are they doing?” she asked herself as she watched them run down a series of alleys, chasing each other and taking pictures or live streams of what was going on. 

Bluewing dropped down into the alley once they’d all passed through, only to meet a latecomer dressed up like Adrien. The similarities between them was so uncanny, it made her take a step back. 

“Bluewing! Did you see which way Adrien went?” the boy gushed, seemingly not at all concerned to have run into a person widely considered to be both evil and dangerous. 

Bluewing’s heart stopped. Was this the akuma? 

“Adrien? No, why? What happened?” 

The boy grinned. “He was doing an outdoor photoshoot, and then took a break! Now’s our chance to catch up to him and show some appreciation!” 

Bluewing scowled. “Is there an akuma?” she asked. “How did this chase get started?” 

Not-Adrien shrugged. “I don’t think so. No, there’s no akuma, it’s just the power of Adrien making us go crazy for him!”  

Bluewing watched in disgust as the boy ran off to catch up with the rest of the mob.  

“Worse than normal paparazzi,” she muttered.  

Pulling out her fan, she opened the screen in its base and briefly checked the news. No reports of an akuma so far. Good. That would have been her last straw with Gabriel, regardless of his concerns about Golden Bug! 

Left with a bit of time on her hands, Bluewing wondered whether she should try to make it to the head of the stampede, to rescue Adrien from his predicament. But maybe the akuma would show up soon, and then Hawk Moth would accuse her of ignoring her job and letting Golden Bug and Chat Grise win! 

While she hid in a corner to ponder this, another person stepped into the alley by Bluewing. Holding in a gasp, she peeked out to check who this was and how much of a threat they presented to Adrien. This person cast a long, thick shadow, and as they came into view, she could see their muscly build, broad shoulders, and... sideburns? 

There was no threat at all! This was the Gorilla, which meant that Adrien was just minutes away from being saved. 

Then Marinette saw the deep scowl on the Gorilla’s face, and heard the low growl emitting from his throat. He was not happy to have lost his charge again. 

And the akuma flapping around him proved it. 

Marinette pressed a hand over her mouth in shock as she saw the akuma wedge itself in between the Gorilla’s clenched fingers, melding with the phone inside his fist. A butterfly outline lit up around the Gorilla’s eyes, and he grunted, stopping his slow march and standing up straight. Raising his free hand, the Gorilla pressed it against his forehead, seemingly trying to resist the akuma’s influence

But Hawk Moth’s symbol stayed where it was, and though the Gorilla shook his head and gritted his teeth, his attempts to lose the akuma were weakening every second. 

Horrified, Marinette watched from the shadows as the Gorilla continued trying to fight off the akuma. He looked like he was in pain from the effort, and she was just about to risk revealing herself to help him break out of the akuma’s hold when the Gorilla suddenly stilled, his head bowed low. 

Then a purple light flared around him, rippling his appearance and distorting it. When it faded, Hawk Moth’s new akuma stood where Adrien’s bodyguard had. 

The Gorilla’s attempts to resist akumatization had failed. 

Bluewing struggled to accept what she was seeing as the new akuma stormed off, causing a path of destruction to follow him as he continued his search for Adrien. 

Hawk Moth had just akumatized someone against their will. More than that, he’d chosen Adrien’s own bodyguard to akumatize. He was putting Adrien at risk, and he knew it! He had to know it! 

Bluewing scowled and took off after Gorizilla. This little game of Gabriel’s was going too far. 

As she avoided the hordes of people screaming while they escaped the King Kong-ish akuma, Bluewing took out her earpiece and called Hawk Moth. 

“The akuma. You chose Adrien’s bodyguard?” she accused as soon as he picked up. “This can only put him in more danger. I warned you not to do that!” 

“On the contrary,” Hawk Moth responded smoothly. “By choosing Adrien’s bodyguard, I am simply making sure we know where Adrien is at all times. He slipped away too easily. Furthermore, he will not be in danger; this is his bodyguard. Gorizilla is the least likely person to hurt Adrien.” 

Bluewing growled. “You’d better be right. This akuma is putting you on thin ice, Hawk Moth. Be careful; I’m running out of reasons to trust you.” 

Hawk Moth scoffed. “I am the only one who’s bothered telling you the truth, Bluewing. I gave you the power to defend Adrien and you still don’t want to use it, so Gorizilla will keep Adrien safe for you. If you don’t trust me, blame no one but yourself! Now excuse me, I’m in the middle of business of the utmost importance.” 

He hung up. Bluewing launched herself after Gorizilla, feeling rage build in her veins as she saw that the akuma had caught up to Adrien during the call. He was wrapped in the akuma’s fist, struggling to free himself. 

And yet, he didn’t seem to be hurt. Bluewing stumbled to a halt when she noticed the gentle, but firm, hold which Gorizilla kept Adrien in. He was trapped, yes, but he seemed to be all right. 

The sound of a yo-yo zipped through the air, and Bluewing turned to face Golden Bug. 

A blue-armored hero with long, dark hair stood in his place. 

“Chat Grise,” Bluewing said in surprise. Had Golden Bug taken Marinette’s advice, then? 

“It’s Lady Steel,” her opponent snarled. “Tell the akuma to drop Adrien, now.”  

Bluewing frowned. “Believe me, I wish I could,” she said. “But I’m afraid the only way this particular akuma will leave him alone is if you give me your Miraculous; you and Golden Bug— er, Chat, both.” 

Lady Steel lowered herself into a threatening stance. “Not happening.” 

As she clashed with Lady Steel, Bluewing caught Gorizilla’s movement out of the corner of her eye. Civilians screamed and ran as he stomped across the city blocks, over to the Montparnasse tower. 

Then, he began climbing it, letting out a challenging roar once he reached the top. 

Is Hawk Moth insane? Bluewing wondered. As she faltered, Lady Steel delivered a combo of hits that left her on the ground, wheezing. Lady Steel swung away before Bluewing could get up. 

But she didn’t really want to. That would mean she’d have to return to ugly old reality, where Adrien was being dangled off the top of a skyscraper by Hawk Moth’s own akuma, his old bodyguard. 

Gabriel had sent another akuma after his son, and he’d done it on purpose, against the Gorilla’s will. She’d seen the mask appear over Gorizilla’s eyes before he climbed up the tower; she knew whose fault it was that Adrien’s life was in danger now. 

Hawk Moth was trying to get Adrien to transform, just to prove the theory that he was Golden Bug. And he had no problem with putting Adrien’s life in danger to do that. 

Bluewing pushed herself off the ground, energized by her rage. Hawk Moth was not thinking clearly, and he refused to listen to her, when she tried to force him to! He was out of control. 

Then again, now that the ‘heroes’ had traded Miraculous, she and Hawk Moth held the advantage. If she ignored Hawk Moth’s ploy, maybe Bluewing could defeat Lady Steel and Black Cat or whatever name Golden Bug would be going by when he showed up. If she played her cards right, then this nightmare could still end today! 

Marinette’s heart raced as she approached the Montparnasse, leaping onto its steep side from the nearest building and running up to the top at full speed.  

Pulling out her earpiece again, Bluewing popped it in and called Hawk Moth, determined to at least communicate her moves, so that they could coordinate better. She dodged Lady Steel’s yo-yo swipe, but hesitated to strike back. Where was Golden Bug? He should be here by now! 

The battle was just getting started, she reminded herself as Hawk Moth picked up. He’ll be here soon enough.  

“Bluewing. Why are you calling me again?” Hawk Moth asked. 

Bluewing lashed out at Lady Steel with her fan, aiming for her ears. Lady Steel fell back with a grunt, leaving Bluewing with a little room. 

“Just trying this thing called communication. Don’t know if you’ve heard of it. I’ll whisper my moves ahead of time so you know what I’m doing, that’s all.” 

“Acceptable, I suppose,” Hawk Moth said, and fell silent. 

For a few minutes, Bluewing, Lady Steel, and Gorizilla fought, the latter fighter inhibited by his need to keep holding Adrien. From the cage of Gorizilla’s fingers, Adrien yelled encouragement for Lady Steel and tried to distract Bluewing, which worked disappointingly well. 

Her advantage was rapidly disappearing, even with an akuma to back her up.   

The mask appeared over Gorizilla’s eyes again, and he grunted loudly at Bluewing. 

It was a message from Hawk Moth, and she knew what it meant. 

“Use your power. Create a sentimonster,” Hawk Moth hissed in her ear. “This fight must end soon!” 

Marinette had several issues with his demand, which she’d already told him. Even if she didn’t, she failed to see how a sentimonster would reduce, not increase, the amount of danger Adrien was in! 

“No,” she huffed out, lashing at Lady Steel, who caught the fan in her hand. 

“Catacly— wait.” 

Bluewing smirked and twisted out of Lady Steel’s grasp. 

“Care to try that again?” she taunted. “Maybe you’ll have better luck this time!” 

Bluewing groaned as Lady Steel’s eyes lit up. 

“Lucky Charm!” she called. 

“Ha. Better luck. Nice one,” Adrien said with a laugh, and then flinched as Gorizilla squeezed him tighter. 

A red and black-spotted flower fell into Lady Steel’s waiting hands. 

“A freesia?” she asked, bewildered. 

“Pity. I’m not even allergic!” Bluewing remarked as she kicked Lady Steel’s legs out from under her.  

Gorizilla brought his free fist down, and Lady Steel moved out of the way just in time. The tower shuddered, and Bluewing was fairly certain she heard shards of glass fall from the windows and hit the ground. 

Adrien cried out, and Bluewing and Gorizilla twisted to look at him. He didn’t seem hurt, but it was clear that he was afraid, despite the bravado he’d taunted Bluewing with. 

Gorizilla looked upset, and he began to open his fist. Was he letting Adrien go? 

Then Hawk Moth’s symbol flashed over Gorizilla’s face, and he grunted as, once again, he fought the akuma’s influence. 

“What are you doing?” Bluewing asked Hawk Moth over the earpiece.  

He didn’t answer, too busy talking to the akuma instead, and soon, just like last time, Gorizilla lost to the power of the Butterfly. Marinette watched as Gorizilla’s face smoothed out, becoming impassive and devoid of emotion as the akuma took over. 

He backed away from Lady Steel, who had used Bluewing’s distraction to sneak up on Gorizilla, and stood close to the tower’s edge, clutching Adrien tightly. 

“We still need proof,” Hawk Moth finally responded in a clipped tone. “Get Lady Steel’s Miraculous.” 

Bluewing obediently moved toward her opponent, pouncing on Lady Steel and falling to the floor with her. They rolled, fighting for dominance, and Bluewing guided their path away from the akuma. Lady Steel didn’t seem to mind that much; she seemed reluctant to risk running into Gorizilla and startling him into dropping Adrien over the edge. 

Bluewing pinned Lady Steel beneath her, ready to make her move for the Miraculous, but her position was too loose. Lady Steel took advantage of her mistake and kicked Bluewing off before throwing her yo-yo at her. Bluewing dodged, but the yo-yo wrapped around her arm, pulling her off balance. She wobbled on her feet, but quickly raised her arm and spun back out of the yo-yo's grip in time to meet Lady Steel’s lunge and keep fighting. 

“We do need a sentimonster,” Hawk Moth hissed insistently through the earpiece as Bluewing grappled with Lady Steel. “You know it’s the truth, even if you keep denying it. Well, soon you will see reason, and I will have my proof.” 

“Hold on— bit of a problem here,” Bluewing panted, aiming a kick at Lady Steel’s stomach. 

Lady Steel caught it with her hands, and shoved Bluewing back and off balance again. The two circled each other, waiting for the other to make a move first, when a sharp cry came from Adrien’s direction. 

Bluewing turned in time to see Gorizilla raise his fists up to his head, fighting a command from Hawk Moth once again. Lady Steel took advantage of her distraction to grab the base of Bluewing’s fan, but she couldn’t pull it out of Marinette’s tight grip.  

“Adrien,” Bluewing whispered, noting the precarious position he and Gorizilla were in.  

His former bodyguard was slipping back under the akuma’s control, lowering his hands from his head. Adrien, still held tightly in Gorizilla’s right hand, was now dangling directly over the edge of the skyscraper. His eyes widened as he stopped struggling to get free, looking down in fear as Gorizilla seemed to relax further.  

The purple akuma mask vanished as Gorizilla’s expression calmed, his shoulders falling in relaxation. Bluewing sighed in relief, glad that the situation was back under control. Beside her, Lady Steel let out a shaky exhale. But in front of them, Adrien shivered and closed his eyes. 

Gorizilla’s fist had stopped moving, but as Bluewing squinted in his direction, she thought she saw his fingers twitch. Lady Steel saw it, too, and she tugged harder of Bluewing’s fan before giving up and throwing a punch at her face. She wanted to get to Adrien, Bluewing could tell as she reflexively fought back. They both wanted to make sure he was safe. But Hawk Moth had chosen the Gorilla for a reason, right? Gorizilla was only keeping Adrien safe. 

Bluewing flipped backwards, out of Lady Steel’s range, momentarily losing sight of Adrien. When she straightened, she lunged towards Lady Steel, but she wasn’t looking. Her attention was on Gorizilla, instead, as his fingers loosened, one by one. 

Bluewing froze, unable to process what was happening, as Gorizilla dropped Adrien over the skyscraper’s edge. 

For a moment, Lady Steel and Bluewing both watched in horror. As Adrien disappeared from sight without even a scream, Bluewing felt like she’d been punched. The feeling rapidly worsened as what she’d just seen sunk in. 

Gorizilla dropped Adrien. He’s going to die, all because of an akuma Hawk Moth promised I could trust! And it was all after Gorizilla received a new command. 

Bluewing sank to her knees, feeling like she was going to throw up. How could M. Agreste do this? Hadn’t he claimed to be fighting for his son? Then why would he endanger his son like this? Just to find out whether he was Golden Bug or not? 

No! He wouldn’t! This had to be some kind of mistake.  

Maybe Gorizilla wasn’t supposed to drop Adrien; maybe he’d been trying to fight the real command and couldn’t and messed up and now Adrien was falling from the top of a skyscraper.  

While Bluewing fought off her despair and forced herself to stand up, ready to fight, Lady Steel let out a bellow of rage and charged toward the edge of the roof. She pulled out her yo-yo, readying it to save Adrien, and Gorizilla watched her closely as the mask reappeared around his eyes. 

Bluewing sighed in relief. Hawk Moth was probably ordering Gorizilla to let Lady Steel go! Now she could save Adrien. He was going to be okay! 

But just as Lady Steel swung her yo-yo out and leapt toward Adrien, Gorizilla reached out and caught her, wrapping her tightly in his fist as he glared first at her, then at Bluewing. 

A cry of despair tore from Bluewing’s throat, and Lady Steel screamed, kicking Gorizilla and fighting to free herself from his grasp. 

He only squeezed her tighter, pinning her arms down and restricting her movement further. 

As Bluewing watched, horrified, the akuma turned to look at her. Hawk Moth’s mask reappeared over his face, and he pointedly looked down, where Adrien was still falling, then at the fan Marinette was holding. The message was clear. 

You want to save him? Then make a sentimonster. Now.  

The mask vanished, replaced by Hawk Moth’s voice in her ear. “Do it.”  

Bluewing shuddered at the spiteful command. 

Adrien’s fall wasn’t a mistake. This was Gabriel’s twisted ploy, meant to force Adrien to transform if he was Golden Bug, and to force Bluewing to create a sentimonster to save him if he was not. 

Hawk Moth had done this on purpose. There couldn’t be much time left to save Adrien, and yet M. Agreste still prioritized controlling her (and Adrien’s own bodyguard) over letting Lady Steel save his son. 

Bluewing’s eyes filled with tears as she ran towards Gorizilla, pleading with broken half-words that made no sense and did nothing to change Adrien’s fate. Could Hawk Moth even hear her? He must see her through the akuma’s eyes, but he did nothing, just forced Gorizilla to keep holding hostage Adrien’s only hope for salvation. 

But something about the way Bluewing’s face twisted up as she begged Hawk Moth to change his mind must have affected Lady Steel, because she, too, was watching. And unlike Hawk Moth, she seemed to be listening. 

She struggled once more to get free, but only succeeded in freeing one arm. Looking at the Lucky Charm she’d summoned, which lay forgotten on the roof, Lady Steel then looked at her enemy. 

“Bluewing,” she rasped out, pinning Marinette with her gaze.  

And then, with the one hand she’d managed to free, Lady Steel tossed Bluewing her yo-yo. 

Marinette dropped her fan and caught the yo-yo on instinct, feeling confused but realizing the same thing Lady Steel had within seconds. 

Today, they shared the same enemy. Hawk Moth had gone too far, and now they fought to save the same boy. Lady Steel couldn’t do it herself, trapped as she was. But with the help of her yo-yo, Bluewing could.  

So before Gorizilla could react, she hooked the yo-yo's string around her finger, flung the yo-yo out and down, hooking it on some unseen anchor, and launched herself off the building. The earpiece connecting her to Hawk Moth’s outraged voice fell out as she leaped, dislodged by the force with which the yo-yo tugged her downwards. 

As Bluewing fell, travelling much more quickly than Adrien had, she caught sight of a distant crowd gathered on the road, and between her and them was Adrien. He’d twisted around at the sound of the yo-yo, and now he was looking up and Bluewing, eyes wide and full of a fearful kind of hope. 

Adrien opened his mouth to say something, but the wind tore it away from his lips before it could reach Bluewing’s ears fully-formed. 

They were close to the ground now, and getting closer. But before Bluewing saved herself, she needed to make sure Adrien would be safe, too. 

Bluewing fell farther, and the last few centimeters of separation between her and Adrien vanished. She quickly wrapped her arm around Adrien, pulling him close to her as she tossed her yo-yo out again, pulling them forward rather than down.  

Adrien buried his face in her neck, and she tested the elasticity of the yo-yo's pull, praying it would work to slow them down enough.  

They fell in an arc, passing over the confused, shouting crowd, heading for the next city block over. Again and again, Bluewing tossed out the yo-yo, each time gaining a little more control, slowing their descent even more while they travelled away from the last of the scattered crowd, until finally, she felt safe enough to slowly drop down to the ground, Adrien still tucked securely under her arm. 

Immediately, Bluewing pulled back from Adrien and began checking him over, gently touching the area under his arms to see if he’d been bruised when she grabbed him. He stood still and let her, looking down at her with an open yet unreadable expression.  

Bluewing let out a shaky sigh and pulled him down into a hug, cradling his head against her neck and tightening her fingers around his hair. He melted into her, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing like he never wanted to let go. A wet spot grew on Marinette’s shoulder, but she didn’t mind. It was proof that Adrien was still alive, that she’d saved him, that Hawk Moth had failed. 

Her heart broke at that thought, and she pressed herself closer to Adrien as tears of her own began to fall. 

Adrien had nearly died. He’d nearly been killed, and it was Hawk Moth’s fault; Hawk Moth’s plan!  

He’d lied to Bluewing. He’d promised that Gorizilla would keep Adrien safe, but that wasn’t true. Gabriel had chosen the Gorilla to make sure that his akuma caught Adrien, to keep tabs on him and make sure he couldn’t turn into Golden Bug (not that he was Golden Bug).  

Hawk Moth had tried to pressure Bluewing into creating a disposable sentibeing, and when that failed, he tried again to convince her by throwing Adrien from the top of a skyscraper, apparently to see if that would force Adrien to transform into Golden Bug, or at least convince Bluewing to create a senti to save him if he didn’t. 

What a mess.  

And how much more did Hawk Moth lie about? Marinette wondered as she forced herself to stop crying and focus on the situation she’d gotten herself into. 

Adrien had already stopped crying, and now he was the one cradling Bluewing, rubbing her back and humming softly in her ear.  

She didn’t deserve his comfort. 

“Adrien,” she choked out, pushing herself away from his embrace.  

She looked up at him, unsure what expression she’d find on his face. Whatever she’d thought it might be, it didn’t prepare for the soft, tender way Adrien was gazing down on her. A blush covered his cheeks, and Marinette realized that she could feel the strength of his emotions through the brooch on her chest if she concentrated. 

She’d never done that before. It felt good. 

Adrien’s emotions were as warm as his embrace had been, heating up her chest and filling it with a wave as deep as the ocean. Bluewing closed her eyes, thrilling at the sensation of it, feeling trust and happiness and love radiate from Adrien. It was soothing and addicting and the most confusing thing that she’d ever known. 

“You should hate me,” she whispered, opening her eyes to find that she was cradling Adrien’s hand to her chest. 

The shocked ‘O’ of his mouth was curving into a smile as he looked down at it. 

“You saved me,” he whispered. His voice was hushed, almost awed.  

Marinette was happy that she could still hear it. She was happy she’d saved him.  

She was very confused as to how a boy who’d seen her as a villain for so long, even after she tried explaining herself, could suddenly trust her now. Could love her. Was this just Adrien’s emotions for Marinette coming through the brooch? 

They were deeper than she’d ever dreamed. 

“I had to,” she whispered in return. Bluewing let go of Adrien’s hand, letting it drop back to his side. “And you have to go. He’ll be looking for you. Stay safe, away from the battle.” 

“Ma— Bluewing, what are you doing?” Adrien asked, and Bluewing felt a ripple of fear and confusion come through the brooch. 

“I don’t want to leave you, believe me. But I couldn’t stand it if I let you get hurt! I lo— I mean,” she stuttered, feeling a blush stain her own cheeks red. “I care about you. I’m glad you’re all right. But now, you have to stay away from Gorizilla. I don’t want Hawk Moth to hurt you,” she pleaded. 

Adrien looked down at her for a second, his confusion receding, his fear gone. 

Then he pulled her into a short hug, turning to press a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you,” he murmured, sending shivers down Marinette’s spine. “I’m glad you did the right thing.” 

She swallowed as Adrien stepped back. “I’m sorry it took so long.” 

Bluewing watched as Adrien turned to go, before turning to face her again.  

Hesitantly, he asked, “Is Hawk Moth going to be mad at you for this?” 

Dread shot through Marinette. “Yes,” she said. “He will be.” 

“Are you going to leave him? Will you join Golden Bug and Chat Grise?”  

Marinette hesitated. “You need to go, Adrien. There’s still an akuma, you know.” 

Adrien frowned, and his stubborn behavior sent its echo through her brooch. 

“But you will, right? You know the truth now.” 

Bluewing felt tears prick her eyes again. “Just go, Adrien. I don’t know what to do.” 

Adrien offered a small smile to her as he began to leave. “You will, Bluewing. I know you’ll do the right thing!” 

Bluewing felt his assurance, his trust, through the brooch, and a small smile of her own curved her lips. 

Maybe she would be able to live up to Adrien’s hopeful expectation. But as it turned out, she never had before. 

As Bluewing stood there, considering, the yo-yo Lady Steel had lent her vanished from her hand. She'd had to detransform, then.

I hope she’s safe, Marinette thought, heading off to find a safe spot of her own to detransform. I hope they’re all safe. Especially Adrien.  

It had taken a while, but now, she understood why she’d been so devastated by Hawk Moth’s attack on him. Any person being put in danger like that would have upset her, but Adrien... 

What she’d felt from him through the brooch wasn’t all that different from what she felt for him. Wasn’t that odd? She’d spent all this time worried about her crush on Golden Bug, and here she was in love with Adrien! 

But it didn’t matter now; Bluewing realized that there was a far more important matter to take care of. Gabriel Agreste was not the man she’d once thought he was. He’d called Adrien a traitor with no proof, only baseless suspicions; he was willing to risk killing his son just to prove he was Golden Bug— and he’d lied to Marinette to get her to go along with his plan! He was manipulating her; how much, she didn’t know, but it was obvious that he’d lied about more than just Gorizilla protecting Adrien. 

After all, he’d lied about asking for permission to akumatize people. A months-old baby giving informed consent to terrorize Paris? Adrien was right, that was ridiculous! 

Hawk Moth had deceived her. 

The Guardian. The Wish. How much more had he lied to her about? What about Nathalie; had she quit, or was she fired? 

What if he’d killed her? 

Marinette’s heart raced as she ducked into a hidden alcove and released her transformation. 

“Duusu,” she said, her voice shaking.  

“Yes, Marinette?” 

Marinette swallowed and looked up, meeting the kwami’s eyes with a determined expression. 

“We need to talk.” 

[fablepaint]

Another post came out on BackerKit yesterday with information about the pins that were sold last spring, and again no word on what's up with the pins that were sold on BackerKit. Is everything okay with them?

We've been trying to get those previous pins delivered since last summer. The ramifications of the pandemic and the shuffling of work spaces must've affecting more factories than we thought cuz the things that are normally straightforward in merch production ran into a kajillion snarls we had to (sometimes literally) manually untangle to get our products into customers' hands.

Basically, think up every nightmare scenario that could happen to a pin and apply it to those chevrons. It's been the cause of many sleepless nights as Tracy, Spike, and I tugged at the ropes as hard as we could. What should've taken 3 months max turned into 9 months of hell.

As for the BK pins, we were informed there was a new production process that would make them look better, but it required totally reconfiguring the files we had into something better suited.

It's been a bit overwhelming getting a studio off the ground like this, and there's nobody who wants those things out the door more than us (It's one less thing to worry about). We've been trying to get appropriate help with the tasks, but sometimes getting assistance from one person can turn into needing help from another two, and so on and so forth.

You end up having to pick and choose where the majority of your focus goes when each task eats up at least 10% of your time, and there's more than 10 things to do in a day (including eating and sleeping). And that's while delegating as much as you can.

One of these days we'll have folks who can take those tasks on all on their own without it requiring a full week of individual focus. But that'll take time to manifest.

TLDR: we're working on it, we haven't forgotten, but we are extremely exhausted.

[idv-sweethearts]

Glad we're in agreement haha! Consider me a loyal customer since I have notifications on and RUNN here when you post

You'll never guess who I'm here to request(it's luchino 😞) I like my men a little protective and you're the first person to indulge my luchino crave so you could write luchino getting a little jealous and possessive during a match?

Also I've never been a recurring anon before I've seen some sign off with an emoji should I do that?

Luchino Getting Protective ☕️

Notes: I do recommend that you find yourself a nickname or an emoji or something of that nature to sign your asks. I do enjoy having a loyal customer. Might I suggest something to do with reptiles? Btw, I'm so eager to write for Luchino today as I had a very interesting series of thoughts yesterday while zoning out into the wood patterns of the living room table. Cannibalism is bad in most situations, it's not vegan, and the only difference between humans and animals is intelligence, but that doesn't matter to vegans ^_^. Probably. I'm not vegan.

Luchino is not normally so reckless or irrational. So long as he can wrap his head around something, he can be rational about it. Relaxed, even. He was, in canon, transformed slowly into a human-sized, bipedal reptile and carried on as though nothing objectively horrifying had happened.

It makes sense. Humans are little different from animals, so why be concerned when one becomes the other? Even "human" intelligence, the only major difference between the two, is only present because it gives humans an advantage. And how prideful humans are to think the distance between them and a lizard isn't the same as a rodent and the bird that hunts it?

Unlike his immeasurable interest in reptiles and evolution, social interactions are illogical and difficult to navigate. He does his best to calculate the most appropriate expressions and words and gestures, but there are still things he can find no logic in.

What is logical to him, however, is that it takes only a moment for a calm, reasonable scene to decompose into a unmanageable hellscape comparable in sense to a nightmare. And it takes even less time for a human to become something truly horrid. Or perhaps all beings this way, hiding their true nature behind kind words and gentle smiles.

So, today, what is Luchino? He is a Survivor, always at your side either physically or figuratively, from the moment he realized he had grown fond of you. He aids you in every way he can, as he'd hate to see you suffer. He's always watching and listening during matches to determine your approximate location. It is better to know than to not know, he thinks. And if you need it, he'll drop everything to ensure your safety, as he has done today.

Furthermore, who are you? You are a Survivor, like him. And, in the chaos of it all, you've been cast aside. Left to die for the sake of a "victory" they may not even achieve, but where is any victory at all in an outcome where you must die so they can leave?

And finally, who are they? They, Hunters and Survivors barely different in this situation, are selfish scum who would prioritize their own lives and wishes over yours. Well, to say they're all so terrible would be hypocritical, as it seems Luchino has prioritized your life over all of theirs, his included. If his life were to conclude, in this hellscape or nightmare or whatever you want to call it, then he's satisfied with that outcome if it means you live to see another day.

So, only one question remains. Who, in this frenzy, is the monster, if there is even a difference between humans and monsters at all? Is the true monster the "Hunter", the more literal monster, who brought you so close to death? Those two other Survivors who left you to die, but were soon torn from the victory they yearned for before they had the chance to struggle or even crawl? Or Luchino himself, who lifted you from the chair, from the depths of Hell they were willing to leave you in, and pulled you toward the exit without even looking back at the nightmarish state he left the others in?

Perhaps you, who witnessed every desperate murmur, every panicked scream, and every dying breath as your beloved partner traded a win for a tie, could provide some kind of answer.

[justafandomgvrl]

Heyy it's MJ right?

I saw your post about being ill, I hope you feel better soon!

I thought maybe some Percy x reader headcanons would be nice? With some fake-dating to lovers?

I honestly don't really mind, just love me some Percy :))

Thank you! Starting to work slowly through the requests now as yesterday was my Grandad's funeral. I'm so grateful to everyone who sent them in 🤍🤍

Fake Dating to Lovers, Percy de Rolo x Reader

- the two of you didn't really get along at first. when you joined Vox Machina, his exact words were "we don't need another arsehole".

- appropriately, you flipped him off.

- you never really found a need to interact with each other besides snide remarks and half hearted insults that neither of you really believed.

- until the rest of the team decided you were a perfect distraction for a long con.

- the two of you were forced to play a loving, engaged couple. him some young noble from a far off land, you his fiancée from a nearby town.

- you hit a few bumps to start with. he gripped your hand all too tightly, squeezing till it felt your knuckles would pop out of place.

- he refused to share the bed with you so he slept on the floor. which would have been chivalrous, if he hadn't taken the warmest blankets with him.

- you would step on his feet while the two of you danced. he was never quite sure whether it was intentional (it was) or if you were just clumsy.

- you're not sure when it happened, but something changed.

- maybe it was in the way your bodies fit together whilst you danced.

- maybe it was the way he smiled at you when you were pretending to be in love around the nobles you were staying with.

- maybe it was in the way your hand moulded with his and he thought it felt like you had been built for him.

- maybe it was in the way he was transfixed just by watching you brush your hair.

- you began to help him when he couldn't sleep. pulling him into the bed and holding him when the nightmares came.

- he found himself blushing whenever he heard you laughing.

- wishing he knew how to make it happen himself.

- goosebumps started appearing on your skin when he ran his thumb over your knuckles.

- the nobles you were staying with as a way to keep them busy whilst vox machina destroyed their reputation (they had done a lot of wrong to their workers and the town they lorded over) began to suspect you weren't truly engaged.

- so Percy held your face, brushed your hair from your eyes, and kissed you.

- and you couldn't breathe but it was in the best way. your body relaxed against him as he used just the right amount of pressure.

- from then, the two of you were inseparable.

- Vax and Vex teased Percy about it the second you were all reunited. Keyleth was just so happy for her best friend. Scanlan was, well, Scanlan. Pike took money from him after winning their bet that this would happen. Grog was a little confused but happy for the two of you.

- Percy kept the ring that they had used for the fake engagement. He tinkered with it and refined the jewel, and after a year, he gave it to you once more, this time in genuine.

- you pulled him to his feet without answering him and held him as tight as you could, nodding your head against his shoulder.

[percyjacksonblog]

I finished! ToA:TDP

Oh my gosh that was such a good book. It has been so long since I’ve read a book I liked that much. I read the new Percy Jackson book this past fall when it came out and loved it, but I really loved this book. So I’m basically going to do a combination of a whole book review and chapters 30-42.

So firstly I did finish the book yesterday but wanted some time to absorb everything and sort my thoughts.

I know on my last post I mentioned that chapters 20-30 were end of the second act chapters and I still stand by that after finishing these last 12. So good.

Chapters 30-42

Calypso and Leo staying at the Waystation seems right, but it also doesn’t. Like Calypso, sure, but Leo I feel like would have felt better at CHB, or heck even New Rome since other members of the 7 are there.

Red Mercedes, I don’t picture Apollo driving anything less than that. It was so perfect.

Oh poor baby Meg. I hated Nero last book but now I loathe him.

THREE PEACHES! I’ve died and gone to heaven. For the record I don’t know why I love Peaches so much but he just cracks me up. Like I would probably lose my mind if I ever heard someone just screech “PEACHES” as a battle cry. Is there any fan art of Peaches because I need to see some.

Pokémon Go! I am so old.

NO NOT THE GRIFFINS!

The stand off was so good. Not going to lie my intuition was off for this chapter. I was positive that Commodus was going to make Apollo choose who lived. It was set up perfectly for that. I would bet that in the original drafts that was going to happen but the editors were like, “this is a children’s book, you need to rewrite this so it’s more age appropriate.”

I got a little misty eyed at the funeral. I wish it had been longer, however, looking back to TLO the short funeral makes sense.

Why does Apollo hate iambic pentameter so much? I think it’s a classic.

Oh name dropping!

Georgina just outright rejecting Apollo had me floored. It was so funny.

Grover! Wow way to just pull in a major character. I love a good Grover line though so I’m hoping he’s pretty prominent in the next book.

The Whole Book

I just…wow. I complained about how there were no real stakes in the last book, but you guys told the stakes get higher and you are definitely right.

As a whole I really enjoyed this book, specifically the last ~30 chapters. I thought it got off to kind of a slow start even with getting attacked in the first few chapters but the rest of it was just phenomenal.

I think my favorite part is still breaking into and out of the Zoo. Something about that just really stuck with me. Close second was definitely Apollo’s reaction to the death of the hippogriff and the unnamed demigod. It really humanized him. So far with each different act from both books I think Apollo has slowly begun accepting his mortality as Lester more and more.

I can’t wait to see who the third emperor is. There’s so many that it could be, Augustus, Caesar, Caligula, Hadrian!

After finishing this book I can confidently say Apollo had some major self loathing going on.

It is clear that one of the central themes of the series at this point is humanity and what it means to be human. I love it.

Not sure when I’ll start reading the third book, could be as early as tonight, could be sometime next week. People as a whole seem to be enjoying my reactions to these books so I’ll continue until I feel the consensus switches.

Vaya con queso amigos!

[rival-the-rose]

So, last week, just before my birthday, I developed dysphagia, gastroparesis, and ileus due to a weird viral infection (came with a fever and sinus inflammation but nothing else). In layman's terms, this basically means all of the muscles in my entire GI tract have stopped working - esophagus is not moving food to the stomach, stomach is not opening to allow food nor is it opening to release food, and my intestines are not moving things along, just being inflamed and full of gas.

This is obviously deeply uncomfortable, I have been on a liquid diet and barely reaching BMR, on top of being dehydrated bc plain water causes a lot of pain (adding a neutral-basic substance to high acid environment=bad).

On top of that, I am not a layman, and therefore I know that generally this suite of symptoms are associated with the Big Bad Diagnoses and once they show up they are frequently lifelong and not infrequently fatal. I also know that my history and symptoms don't match any of the Big Bads and it's more likely a weirdly dramatic response to viral inflammation, and I think we confirmed that with my doctor today. She's an osteopath who used to specialize in post-GI surgical care and felt that my intestines responded to manipulation in a way that was more similar to inflamed intestines than intestines that are no longer enervated. I would tend to agree and also she relieved so much pain today, I can take deep breaths again.

However, she hasn't seen or heard of this before. She expects that if there's no active damage being done, the inflammation should be mostly resolved in a week or two, but that's based on physiological knowledge rather than specific disease etiology.

So I'm having a lot of emotions. Anxiety, bc these are serious issues that I don't have a solid timeline on resolving. Anxiety 2, bc any time my body does something weird I become paralyzed with fear that this is going to spiral into profound disability again. Shame about Anxiety 2 bc I feel like I'm being dramatic and also being paralyzed with fear makes me feel bad about myself. Concerned that this is going to trigger an eating disorder relapse. Excited that I get to relapse "legitimately" and the fact that I've been on half rations for awhile is relieving the thoughts around how much weight I've gained since getting back from Vermont. Concerned bc I'm already feeling some of the emotional effects of calorie restriction (weepy+fussy) and physical (so tired.) Shame bc I feel like I should be done being sick and I'm tired of cancelling things I really want to do and also bc I look fine and I do feel ok as long as I haven't eaten recently. So I feel like I'm letting ppl down for no reason/I should be toughing it out more. ???Bad bc this is the eating disorder dream and why can't I be functional while doing it (aka being confronted with the reality that I can't indulge my disorder in a safe way which is so scary). Fussy bc I don't actually feel sick so I still want to do things but then I do and I'm uncomfortable/tired/frustrated immediately. Shame about just lying on the couch so much. Fear bc I want to start T and I'm in the process of applying to vet school and I can't do either of those things if I keep having organ systems shutting down (I really thought my lungs were doing better but they're apparently still not deflating appropriately).

Logically I can see that if someone told me they had these symptoms I would be like "why are you not in a hospital" (as long as I can keep up on calories and liquid reasonably it's not necessary). But I'm the one experiencing it and it's not that bad so why can't I do more stuff. Even though I worked full time this week and went to a doctor appointment today and OT yesterday. But I cancelled hanging out with my bestie on her birthday today so I feel really bad about that.

Idk. I just want to feel better. Except for the part of me that wants to starve to death. I'd say that's the core of the issue lol.

[kumoriyami-xiuzhen]

Hakuoki Drama CD - Hijikata Biyori Track 11

Well, guess who passed out early on Sunday when she intended to translate then just couldn't afford the time to translate until now? 😅 Anyway, I'm going to work on a number of the Biyoris since they're short so I can actually put out a few things on time or schedule... because I'm going to be pretty occupied until the May 2nd (presumably), though I did rush this a bit.

Also, I'm pretty sure that the Hijikata Biyori tracks that remain untranslated are tracks: 12, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 25, 26, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 35, 36 and whatever the Sendai [?] thing was [if memory serves, it's a dialogue with only Harada and Shinpachi]. Please let me know if I'm missing something... or if I included a number of one that was already translated.

This post is to make up for last week! Will start working on the post for this week in a bit since I actually have some time today!

Hakuoki Drama - Hijikata Biyori Track 11: Letter [according to jisho, the JP 文 can alternatively be interpreted as 'texts', 'writing' or 'literary arts'. sorta leaning towards the last one because of Hakumyu LIVE]

Translation by KumoriYami

Harada: Ahh.... so sleepy.

Toudou: You drank too much yesterday, Sano-san.

Harda: Heisuke, aren't you the same?

Toudou: I don't drink until I get hungover.

Hijkata: It's already lively this early in the morning. [added in "already" for sentence flow]

Toudou: Uwah, Hijijkata-san.

Hijikata: Did you go to Shimabara last night?

Harada: Ah.... yeah. Do you have something to say about that [the word here I have translates to "idea / opinion / suggestion / objection / complaint" so I changed that to something more in line what I thought would be appropriate for the character]

Hijikata: No comment/No objections [same explanation as last line] . At this time, the organization is always changing, which has made things chaotic. It's fine to relax once in a while, but… ahh…

Harada: But... what.

Hijkata: It's fine to loosen up, but don't overdue it. In the future, you'll be shouldering the Shinsengumi's reputation, and be making achievements in Kyoto [reword later?]. You guys, you're in the position of being role models for the rest of the troop.

Harada: U-Uh... Toudou: I get it, Hijikata-san. Don't stare at us like that so early in the morning.

Hijikata: Ah, right. Hm? What is it?

Toudou: Um, These letters are are from the Shimabara nee-sans [check audio. the word I have is 'elder sisters' so I'm pretty sure that this fine…]. One, two, three, four. Here, for you.

Hijikata: Ah, yes. What a hassle/You've worked hard.

Harada: Hijikata-san, aren't you enjoying yourself to some extent?

Hijikata: But I don't go overboard. Well then.

Toudou: Ah, he escaped.

Harada: He really has a lot of tricks up his sleeve. He lectures people then runs away. That's right, Heisuke, let's storm into Hijikata-san's room together.

Toudou: Why? Harada: I'm sure he has a smile on his face as he reads those letters right now. Let's go and check it out.

Toudou: Ah, Sano-san, wait!

Harada:...How is it it?

Toudou: He seems to be writing something.

Harada: Oh? Has he already started writing his reply? How about it?

Toudou: Hey, wait, San-san...ah!

Hijikata: What are you two doing!

Harada: Ah, no, um...

Toudou: W-We wanted to see what Hijikata-san is doing. Lo-Look, you've been busy with a lot of work lately. We were wondering if there was something we could help you with…

Harada: Yes, that's right!

Hijikata: I see, you're just in time then. What I writing just now...

Harada: Eh? It's okay to look? Then...

Hijikata: I'd love to hear your opinions.

Toudou: Eh?

Hijikata: Hurry, read it.

Harada: First/One, it's forbidden to violate Bushido.

Toudou: First/One, leaving the Shinsengumi is strictly forbidden.

Harada: What is this!

Hijikata: The number of members of the Shinsengumi will increase in the future. In order to provide better leadership, I wanted to write down some rules that the Shinsengumi members must abide by. I was just working on a draft.

Toudou: Eh? What? Will you need to commit seppuku if you violate them?

Hijikata: Ah. As a samurai, you must pay with your life. Harada: That makes sense, though isn't that too harsh?

Hijikata: Well, both of you sit down. I'll explain what I haven't written down yet. If there are things that disrupt the troop affairs, I plan on having them banned. Additionally, meaningless fights are also unproductive…

Toudou: Where is the response.*

Harada: Don't say that.*

Hijikata: I will especially not tolerate fights within the Shinsengumi. I don't have time for that sort of thing. Also…*

[*I'm not entirely sure about these last bits since one of the tls I saved has this in an order where it looks like that some of the lines might overlap/have things spoken in the background. will fix them later after I hear the audio.]

-----end-----

also, ive been so busy that i havent even gotten around to organizing my latest merch haul... only got around to organizing the bromides.

[celticcrossanon]

You have no idea how angry I am. The tribute paid yesterday to the Queen was bland, pitiful and shameful. Charles and Camilla made a hasty appearance, looking like they just got out of bed. A photo of her posted with a few words, half of which are about him and his wife as a self-promotional message. Ashamed.If William and Kate hadn't held a small service in his memory, this day would have been just ordinary. She deserved better than that.

Hi Nonny,

I expected more as well. I think Her Late Majesty deserved more than what her memory received.

I have been upset ever since the King said there would be no public memorial service for his mother. I felt that the public needed something to mark the one year anniversary. I know I did.

I was grateful for the church service at St Davids (the one attended by the Prince and Princess of Wales). Otherwise there would be no public remembrance of Her Late Majesty at all.

I did like the family tributes with the pictures and the montage (the Tindalls?). I did not like the picture that Charles chose - my taste is showing here. I expected something more personal? evocative? - something that brought back memories, like the picture of Her Late Majesty on walkabout that the Prince and Princess of Wales used.

I did not like Charles's first Accession Day speech. For me, it was a lesson in how to make it all about him and his wife. Compared to Her Late Majesty's Accession Day speech in February last year, it was distinctly lacking in several areas.

I actually thought Charles looked appropriate in his kilt as he chatted to people after church. I thought that Camilla could have dressed more formally than what she did. I've never seen her look so casual and to me it showed a lack of respect for the late queen.

Edited for typos

[firespirited]

From yesterday. She loves to sit on the bench like a human and watch the world go by.

Today I got pretty sick so I'm going to have to not do much for the next few days let alone go out (the purpura are intense, I look like I took a spitting pan of grease to the face or measles or something. Also strained the neck injury which is visibly swollen and mighty sore)

I've listed the 9 vintage heads as a bundle and the Monster High bait on ebay (saffyruth)

but so long as there are no bids any dollblr folks can have the vintage head bundle for 8$ (aka free with tracked postage bubble envelope worldwide) or a $30 (aka the price of a kilo) box of dolls: monsters, various barbie/disney, stretch fabrics, fun yarn scraps for reroots, assorted accessories... (see suppi.net/bratz/recap.php for headshots) I'd be delighted to put together a custom package instead of listing stuff on ebay. If you're in the EU, 11€ for 3kilos of assorted doll junk. I'll empty the various drawers on to my bed: take photos and you can pick and choose.

Other stuff on ebay is available to be *added* to a just pay postage box, it's priced by how much it cost and the amount of work involved (glue treatments, bleaching and whatnot). I don't allow haggling once I've settled on an "ebay acceptable" price because the worth in time/effort and my minimum reveals itself. I know, the rules are weird. 😅 Reroots became more precious once I couldn't replicate that again, like sentimental value, I hope that makes sense.

Haven't posted much, had a lot to say but wasn't sure it was appropriate or would be properly understood. Not wording great lately. Having to do an overview of 2023 brought up some really interesting things about what I value and collect that need to be worded in a way that can't be misconstrued "so you hate waffles?"-style.

I've been grieving somewhat for a while and, well, it seems like everyone is going through it, so why add to dash sadness (at a time like this too)? But also had a bittersweet healing moment with mum and got to know my sister a little better as she's been coming on dog walks (Talia is hers, well it's more like she is Talias: chihuahuas bond to their chosen human, it's quite astonishing to witness) and my old lady-baby Lily is in better shape than ever. And some pondering about what kind of hobbyist I'd like to be if I can't use my arms again much this year (arm movements also include photos, editing and typing)

Ok off to sleep, see you in 12-14h. Love to all and special thoughts to everyone I'm seeing having a rough time of it. PS: Dms or emails re "doll clear out" will work much better than replies/reblogs.

[lesbi-nyan]

Its like 3:47AM and ig im making a life update post since i cant fall back asleep.

Huge news. in just these last 3 days of looking at places with assistance from this local housing program, I have responded to 8 listings and immediately got a reply from 1 that same hour. had a viewing the next day. yesterday I signed my very first rental lease contract and and i've paid the deposit fee. my move in date is march 15th!!! I'll have a proper place w a roommate (stranger).

The subsidy this program said they would provide me with, is no longer happening because i have too many savings above their cap. The great thing (sarcasm) about this, is i went with this place cause tho it is slightly above budget at $945/m (with utilities), with the rental subsidy that makes it loads more affordable. but now my whole paycheck from my minimum wage job is going to go to paying rent, with barely any left over. I mentioned this to the worker and she said she'd ask her manager if the subsidy would still be appropriate. to be determined.

the lease is only 5.5 months, with potential for longer.

I'm takibg steps to find a better paying job and one that'll make me hopefully less miserable. this program isnt just leaving me cut and try either; our next step is to visit Work BC and figure out HOW i can get a bettrr paying job/ the skills for that. that'll b next week.

as of earlier this week, during yet another work breakdown, my manager asked me how i feel about this job. i've told him i dont feel i fit in here and it sucks cause i was so excited to work for this compaby, and i am looking for new work. but i dont have a timeframe.

he said he won't change my schedule til i ask him to, and said he's sorry to see me leave, as he's seen some great work from me, just that it's really 50/50. somedays i cannot function, and other days i feel amazibg and great. To be clear i hate this job but i have to stick with it a bit longer.

I'm probably gonna keep ebegging, but with this new place i hope i can also start posting more lewd content that'll make you want to tip me 💜. if only if onlyfans finally accepts my damn identity authentication, ive been struggling with it for months and it sucks.

Thank you to everyone who's tipped and donated and been supportive to me these last 4 months of my leaving/ running away from my parents' place, and setting out in my own. it's not been easy, but it is getting better ~nya

[violetnerves]

Bully: Battle Royale, Chapter 1 -

Nothing will ever be the same again.

So I finally got this done, been struggling with feeling inspired to write for a while since my dog fell sick and couldn't walk without help anymore. We were forced to put her to sleep yesterday, and I only just got the inspiration to finish this a few hours ago.

It's a shame, she was a good dog, but all good things come to an end. I feel like I'm taking it rather well, but i'm also the type of person to have the grief hit later on rather than immediately.

It seems rather gruesome to write a fic like this considering all that, but I also feel like it kind of helps... in a weird way.

Anyway, Content warning for the following, I'll also put some of it in the tags too:

Death of a Major canon character.

Blood, like, a lot of it.

Graphic descriptions of injuries/wounds (Might be more applicable in future chapters, not so much here.)

Some foul language.

Honestly, if the deaths of teenagers/children is something that you have a difficult time reading about, you'll want to avoid this fic.

Word count: 2657 (It's short, but I consciously wanted to avoid what happened with the other fic where I had to split chapter 1 into two parts. Future chapters will be longer.)

Like my other fic, I'll also be posting this on Ao3.

Jimmy hated Mondays.

No, really. He did. There was just this suffocating atmosphere of suckage that, well, sucked any and all kind of positive feeling that you could get throughout the day. Besides, what good thing ever happened on a Monday? Exactly! Absolutely nothing!

Sunday was second to it as far as terrible days went, but that was only because the next day after that one was Monday.

Sure, it wasn't an unpopular opinion, but saying it out loud was dumb. It was like saying the sky was blue or that water was wet. The only appropriate response, in Jimmy's opinion at least, for saying you didn't like Mondays was the following:

*"Well, obviously no one likes Mondays **moron**. Who does?"*

...

Why did that sound exactly like something Gary would say?

Why would he even think about that *snake*?

He shook his head, trying to force his thought process onto something else.

This wasn't an ordinary, typical Monday at school, no, of course it wasn't. The entire student body of Bullworth Academy were shoved onto two garbage heaps of buses - Aside from the Preps, who got their own, new and fancy private bus - both of which might as well have been 20 miles away from breaking down and stranding them all in the middle of nowhere.

Jimmy sighed and leaned his head on the bus window as his classmates wreaked havoc all around him. Trent and Wade were throwing Bucky's glasses back and forth to each other across the left section bus seats while Bucky himself tried - and failed - to catch them. Johnny and Lola were - not so quietly - making out with each other in the other seat in the aisle next to him, and the rest of the Greasers were busy yelling at some passing drivers about how shit their cars looked. Several of the Jocks were tossing a mini toy football all around the bus, occasionally - most likely purposefully - hitting one of the nerds with it. The Nerds didn't have much of a way of defending themselves since they weren't allowed to bring any of their gadgets along.

Jimmy was left without a lot of the stuff he'd collected as well, having decided to just leave it all back in his dorm room. It's not like anybody could mess with anything there. The whole school was allowed to go on the field trip, regardless of grades. He'd thought that was a little odd, but he figured it was because the trip was meant to be educational rather than actually fun.

He wasn't sure what the Preps were up to. Most likely, they were all enjoying the experience of having their own bus to their inbred, spoiled rotten selves.

"You boys! Cut that out! You're old enough to know better than to throw things at people!" Mr. Galloway could be heard yelling from up front, his tone of voice sounding more irritated and tired than usual. The Jocks must've noticed his irritable tone as well, or they might've cooperated out of respect for one of the few nice teachers at the Academy, because after that, the toy hadn't been thrown around anymore.

Where Jimmy was seated, he was able to make out some irritated grumbles from Galloway, muttering about needing another drink, and Ms. Philips coaxed him off of the idea.

Galloway was clearly having a pretty bad hangover. This caused Jimmy to feel a bitter disappointment in the man, something that he was unfortunately used to feeling when it came to the adults in his life. He was miffed that Galloway was still drinking despite everything the boy had been doing to get him to stop. But he guessed there was only so much a kid like him could do. It was saddening that one of the few teachers who actually gave a damn about his students acted like a mean and irritable drunkard half of the time.

At least Ms. Philips was along for the trip as well, sitting right next to Galloway. She'd be an extra pair of eyes to make sure the English teacher didn't try and sneak a drink during the trip.

"Hey Jimmy?" Pete Kowalski said, concern in his tone. As Jimmy's friend, maybe the only real friend he had so far that hadn't been made by brute force, he sat next to Jimmy on the bus. Jimmy wasn't sure if he liked sharing a seat all that much, but he supposed it being Pete was better than anybody else.

Jimmy lifted his head up slightly from the window, looking over at his slightly younger friend.

"Yeah, Pete?" Jimmy said, slightly grumbling the first part of the sentence out.

"Are you ok? I dunno, you just seem kind of distracted by something."

Jimmy shrugged, leaning away fully from the window and sitting up in his seat. At first, Jimmy wanted to stay quiet and avoid answering, but he felt that Pete would think he was ignoring him. Which... well, that's pretty much what he would be doing.

"It's nothing, just..."

Jimmy knew he shouldn't look back at part of the source of his bad mood, but...

Well, there was something bothering him. Ok, not something, *someone*.

Jimmy turned in his seat to glare at the occupant of the last bus seat at the back of the bus. There, Gary Smith sat alone. His gaze faced the window, watching the scenery as it passed by and ignoring the shenanigans of the rest of their group.

It was stupid, Jimmy had hardly known Gary for barely a month, and they'd been enemies for longer than they'd been friends. Yet... aside from the fact that it was a Monday, as well as the dumb crap the other students were doing around him... Gary's betrayal still nagged and scratched at him the most.

Mainly from how spontaneous and, frankly, stupid it was. Gary seemed to pride himself on his intelligence and how he always thought ahead compared to the "morons" around him. But... he was by himself. The only other kid that actually sat alone was Russell, who was forced to since his size caused him to take up the entire bus seat. In Gary's case, it was because nobody in Bullworth actually liked him enough to sit by him. How could he even think he could become king of the school when no one even liked him?

"It's Gary, isn't it? He's still bugging you."

Jimmy turned to Pete, who seemed to lean back at his intense gaze.

"What! No, I don't care about that chump! Screw him!" Jimmy replied, following it up with a scoff, "Though i'm sure Gary *wishes* I cared that much about him. You remember how offended he got when I called him *boring*?"

Pete seemed to relax a bit more.

"Ha, yeah. I actually thought he was gonna hit you right after that. I'm surprised he didn't, then again, Gary's always been kind of hesitant about getting into an actual fight."

"Yeah, cause he's a coward. If he wasn't such an asskisser to Crabblesnitch, I'd beat the crap out of him."

Bucky's glasses flew just above Jimmy's head, and he snatched them out of the air. Wade, who'd been the one to toss them, yelled out:

"Hey Hopkins! Toss those to Trent!"

Jimmy frowned, turning around with his knees on his seat and his arms laid on the back to face Wade. He got a side eye from Constantinos, who sat right behind him, but he didn't care much. It's not like his respect mattered much. The kid was no better than Gary, except he happened to be a lot less bold about insulting people.

"Will you dumbasses cut it out! What'd I say about picking on the nerds? Do you want me to kick your ass *again*?"

Wade frowned, but rather than actually do anything, he sat back in his seat. Trent flipped Jimmy off but got back in his seat just as quickly as Wade did.

Jimmy smirked and looked over to Bucky.

"Here, catch."

From 3 seats away, Jimmy tossed Bucky's glasses back to him. Rather than actually catch them, though, the glasses slipped from Bucky's hands and fell to the ground, cracking the left lense right in the middle.

Jimmy noticed but didn't much care, sitting right back in his seat.

"I swear, some people just never learn."

Pete nodded, yawning. Jimmy thought that was kind of odd. Did he not get enough sleep last night? Then again, he did have Gary for a roommate, Jimmy wouldn't be surprised if that weird mumbling Gary had kept him up late.

"Yeah... The kids around her are... So stubborn... man, I'm kinda tired..." Pete mumbled, already appearing half asleep. He looked like he was struggling to even sit up. "W-What about you?"

Jimmy was about to say he wasn't until he himself had yawned before he could. Suddenly, it seemed he was also on the verge of dozing off. This didn't seem right, Jimmy knew he'd gotten plenty of sleep last night. He'd clocked out at 7:30, right after a whole day of running around and doing errands for some extra spending money.

"Yeah... It's weird, I was gonna say no, but for some reason, I'm just feeling like I could pass out at any second... Weird... Huh?" Jimmy looked over to Pete, finding the latter boy passed out... along with Lola and Johnny, who were also passed out in their seat in the next aisle.

Jimmy had a bad feeling bubbling inside him, and despite being on the verge of passing out, he grabbed the back of his seat and struggled to lift himself up to get a look at the rest of the bus.

Every single student, as well as Mr. Galloway and Ms. Philips were in a deep sleep in their seats. He glanced over to Gary, who had his fingers gripping the window, as if he'd been trying to open it before succumbing to whatever had caused everybody else to pass out.

*'What the... Is there some kind of gas leak in the air? What's going on here?'*

Jimmy attempted to get out of his seat to reach the aisle, but his drowsiness won out. He fell, barely catching himself with his arms before even those had failed him. On the ground, he tried to get up again, but his eyelids grew heavier and heavier until he couldn't keep them up anymore.

*'What...'*

The thought barely registered in his head before he lost consciousness.

***

*Jimmy sat alone on a park bench.*

*He wasn't sure what he was doing there, but he had a feeling it didn't actually mean all that much. He was dreaming after all, and as far as he understood it, dreams and nightmares were just your brain throwing out stuff from your memories and smashing them together in your head to sort things out. At least that's what a therapist had told him once, in the one time he went.*

*He'd only gone once because mom had only really paid for one session. CPS had only really required her to take him one time, so that's the only time he'd ever seen a therapist.*

*Suddenly, he wasn't alone, and he turned to find his father sitting with him.*

*Well, not his dad, more like his dad's tattooed body from the shoulders down that Jimmy had only seen from a photo of him as a baby. From the neck up, it was Mr. Galloway's head, which... was a weird sight to look at, given how his bio dad's muscular frame compared to the rather gaunt Galloway was mismatched in the most uncanny way.*

*Jimmy grimaced.*

*"Ew."*

*"Look, I'm trying to work with what I've got here. It's not my fault your mother's taste in men is terrible." The voice that came out of Jimmy's pseudo father figure belonged to the hobo who lived behind the bus. Man, surely he could've had more to work with than that?*

*"Fine, but do you take constructive criticism?"*

*"Sure."*

*"You did a bad job."*

*"Aw, c'mon."*

*Jimmy frowned.*

*"What's up with all this, by the way? Why are you here? Or is asking that question just pointless?"*

*Jimmy's pseudo dad sighed, scratching his head.*

*"Who knows? I guess your brain felt like you needed a father figure at the moment to prepare you for what you might see once you wake up."*

*Jimmy leaned forward, rolling his eyes. So he wasn't even sure why he was here? Great.*

*"And why is that? I fell asleep on the school bus on the way for a friggin field trip to a museum. What could be so dangerous about that?"*

*Pseudo dad went quiet for a bit, sighing.*

*"I guess we'll figure that out soon enough. God help you James," as he called Jimmy "James" he briefly sounded like Galloway for a moment, and he began to disappear.*

*The dream began to break up, and as soon as Jimmy had arrived -*

He woke up.

Jimmy found himself sitting in a school desk, his head laying on the table. He lifted his head up and looked around. The rest of the class was in the room... as well as the townies? None of the townies were sat at a desk, instead the group were laying in a pile at the other side of the room. Mr. Galloway and Ms. Philips were nowhere to be found, something which gave Jimmy pause... as well as a terrible feeling to take over him.

He looked around the room, trying to get a sense of the area in case he could make a quick escape.

The room itself appeared to be an abandoned classroom, left to decay and be ravaged by God knows who. Some plants had grown in through the broken window panels at the right side of the classroom. The floor had visible holes in it, the stone broken either by disrepair or by anyone who explored the building.

"What the hell..." Jimmy muttered, turning his head as he heard someone mumbling. Just one row and two seats behind Jimmy, Russell lifted up his head. It was only then that Jimmy noticed the metal collars everyone in the room was wearing, and as he held his hand up to his own neck, he realised he was wearing one too.

Russell noticed his collar immediately, touching it.

"Huh?" Russell said. His fingers began to curl around the collar as if he was about to rip it off.

Without hesistation and fully going off of his gut feeling, Jimmy yelled out to Russell:

"H-hey Russell, don't pull on that!"

Russell didn't listen, didn't even really register Jimmy's voice at all. He gave the collar a hard tug, and Jimmy heard a loud crack as the pressure caused the metal to break.

Before Russell could even realise the repercussions of what he did, the collar *exploded.*

The sound of the blast woke everyone in the room up, and those in front of Russell got the worst of it as they were sprayed by Russell's arterial blood from his burst open neck. The big guy fell over on his desk, his life literally draining out of him and spewing out on the dirty, decrepid tile floor. The Townies awoke and scrambled to their feet at an almost unnatural speed, their eyes widening at Russell's corpse.

It only took a second of realization, before the scream of one of the girl's caused a panic, and all hell broke loose in the room as desks and furniture were toppled over and people scrambled and ran blindly around the room.

Jimmy hated Mondays, and this time, he felt that he had a good reason to at this very moment.

Nothing good happened on Mondays, and it didn't take Russell's gruesome death for Jimmy to realise that after today, nothing would ever be the same again.

[spicycreativity]

Long post/cosplay ramble:

So Roman's katana has been on my radar ever since I first got into TSS (I'm Nikkei* and I'll take literally any opportunity I can find to work my heritage into any given cosplay hehe)

I initially wanted to do some sort of samurai!Roman but I got caught up with the armor and everything and just felt way too intimidated by all the research and thought it was way too much effort.

Well

Since then, I've learned a lot about samurai apparel outside of armor and had a lot of Realizations and so on. And yesterday, I was struck with the perfect design for a samurai!Roman cosplay 🤩

First, a vocab lesson:

*Nikkei = anyone of any Japanese descent living outside the country of Japan; Japanese diaspora. In my case, I am of mixed Japanese and white descent born, raised, and currently living in the USA

My initial thought was to perfectly mirror my Roman cosplay (red hakama, white hakamashita), but upon doing some research it seemed like that particular color combo is only worn by miko (shrine maidens). So I decided it would be better to avoid that.

I really don't want to wear white hakama bc I know it'll be a MESS, but alas, we all must make sacrifices for art. So white hakama, red hakamashita. I think that will work well with what I have in mind for the haori.

Instead of a traditional Japanese haori, I'm gonna get an open prince jacket (you know, as opposed to a closed on like Disney princes wear) and— here's the fun part— use Roman's emblems as the kamon!

I think that's a smart, respectful move bc obviously "Sanders" wouldn't have a Japanese family crest and I don't really feel that it would be appropriate for me to design or wear one anyway because that's. not my family name. My Japanese family name also doesn't have a kamon (that I could find) and I'd also be hesitant on using it to cosplay a white dude (that's more personal preference). But then I remembered that every sign has a canonical symbol/crest! So I think it's gonna look super cool!

If I could draw, I'd draw a picture bc I know it's gonna look dope as hell. But I can't, so I'm setting for making this post 😆

(Obligatory Nuance Paragraph:

None of this clothing is considered "closed" or inherently religious or off limits in any way. There are respectful avenues for people of all racial and ethnic identities to access and wear traditional Japanese clothing, that is, you don't have to "earn" the right to wear it. If you're not Japanese, the only thing I would watch out for is the kamon— don't wear a kamon that isn't yours without first researching if it would be appropriate to do so).

[judasdreams]

CW: me yacking on about my surgery, post-surgery pain, shame, & the woes of being undiagnosed and just... in chronic pain.

I'm honestly afraid.

Tomorrow marks my last day of "proper" painkillers, on Monday I'll have to rely on my regular paracetamol + arcoxia. I'm still in a lot of pain. Getting in and out of bed is incredibly painful, and laying in bed I'm breathing shallow & occasionally gasping because the pain stops me from taking any deep breaths. (It's not new, the lung thing was happening in the hospital too, getting MARGINALLY better through today. This is the one thing that makes me cautiously optimistic; i really don't wanna deal with the BS of getting a cab out of there again.)

I'm terrified that I have to call the clinic back on Monday and just... "I'm sorry but I'm still in too much pain for this to be normal and can I please either have a consult with the doctor or have them prescribe me more painkillers?"

I feel like I'm acting the part of a person becoming addicted although all I'm asking for is a couple more days for my body to just... get over the fucking surgery.

I hate living in this faulty fucking meatsuit; the humiliations, begging and arguing that I have to (occasionally, let's be fair) do for appropriate help & treatment...

But let's also be fair a second time: I'm in general having doubts if my body is healing the way it should. I've been taking pics of my surgery wounds & they look a little irritated which very could be just normal healing, and my stomach is still swollen (much less than it was yesterday, but still noticeable), especially at one spot that is VERY tender. I don't know. Maybe I'm way ahead of things... but I don't understand how "normal people" deal with this surgery... do I really have this low of a pain tolerance or is my body really this slow to heal & am I really this fucking prone to being in prolonged periods of pain?

I'm also afraid that I actually might have EDS (it's been in the back of my mind for years, but I haven't had the opportunity to figure out anything up until this summer), because if I have it, my recovery from the surgery is going to be massively impacted and it might make my recovery more complicated.

This would be the worst fucking way to find out that oh, by the way: my body will never heal as well as the body of an average human.

In short: I'm in deep doo-doo with my post-surgery pain, and I really hate being undiagnosed.