#but i will Gleefully block them all so i dont have to see it

[orcelito]

Ok do blocked tags not show up in the recent section of following tags as much???? Bc here I am thinking plantcest is rare on tumblr in comparison to twitter, but then I happen upon a post in the trending tab of the tag & then go to the blog to block them (as I do). And then I end up finding post after post after post of plantcest, so hey Free Blocklist. I must've blocked like 10 blogs man and some of them were artists whose work I recognized. Literally How did I miss all this shit?

[pjwritingblog]

Hi i am back and again and no pressure answer when you can. So theyre dating now! How about the reader getting fed up of the townsfolk of whispering and muttering espcially when theyre out together. And reader is like " mi amor, mi cariño, mi sueño, mi corazon, mi querido... I know you dont want to attract too much attention but... THIS MAN IS AN ABSOLUTE SWEETHEART AND ANYONE WHO TELLS OTHERWISE FIGHT ME!" Imagine the reader ( shortgang XD) ready to throw hands at bruno slander! I feel like with enough provocation reader and pepa would have to be restricted by their partners to save.the villagers xF

a/n: alright i took a few liberties with this one but the concept is there. And yes, there will be a part 3, it’s just hella late and i wanted to get something posted today lol also @insanitybyanothername asked to be tagged so here u go bb

Part 1 (though you should be fine without it)

“Just admit you don’t love me already!”

“Ay, querido!” Bruno threw his hands up in exasperation. “All my grey hairs, they come from you.” He put his hands on your shoulders. “I love you. So much. Which is why I think we should keep our relationship a secret a little longer yet.”

“But-”

“No buts. You don’t hear the things they say about me, corazon. I couldn’t forgive myself if they started spreading lies about you too.” You were working on his self-esteem, and it was doing relatively better. Bruno could admit that what the townsfolk said about him was wrong, and that he didn’t deserve it(he would add, however, that he should have been more discerning between a prophecy and just neighborly advice). But rather than face their prejudices against him head-on, he hid in the Casita, venturing out only to see you. And though his nieces tried, parading around the square, showing off the positive prophecies he’d made recently about their lives, many still whispered cruel and malicious things about him.

“Amor. Please.” You wrapped your arms around him, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You said it yourself: lies. I know the kind of man you are. I know the love we share. What could any of them say to take that away from me?”

“But-”

“No buts.” You smirked at him. “I want to show everyone the man I love.” You didn’t say it aloud, but you thought taking your relationship public could actually be good for him. Your family was well-known and respected. Surely if they saw you and Bruno together, they’d know he couldn’t be bad.

“Well. You make a convincing argument.” He tried to look blase, but you saw a smile in his eyes.

“Great, come on!”

“What, now?” He let you drag him towards the square, where most of the town seemed to be congregated.

You took his arm, making a big show of lacing your hands together. You glanced at Isabela and she gleefully joined in, surreptitiously handing Bruno a large bouquet of exotic blooms, which he then passed to you. You thanked him with a kiss on the cheek, tucking a pure white lily into his lapel. “Laying it on thick, don’t you think?” He muttered in your ear, clearly unhappy.

“Don’t know what you mean.” You winked at him, then said much louder: “Thank you for walking me home, Cariño!” You kept going, past the square and down a block, to where you lived with your sister. “That went wonderfully.”

“I don’t like this, querido.” He rubbed at his temple. “Everyone was staring, and Dolores gave me this look like…people are saying things.”

“Yes, the town hermit just publicly announced a relationship with a very eligible and desirable and not to mention drop-dead gorgeous young thing. People are going to talk.”

“Careful, Corazon, or people might think you’re vain.”

“Like a peacock Amor, like a peacock.”

---

It was fine, at first. You had a few people make comments, saying Bruno looked much brighter these days, more out of his shell. Getting to go out in public with your beloved was a treat; the twilight walks you were fond of now took place around your neighborhood, instead of slipping out into the forest, and Bruno would kiss you goodbye when you left the Casita, even if half the town was outside.

The first cruel comment came from the baker across the street. She walked up to you one day when you were sweeping the verandah, puffing out her chest. “I guess you think if you date the crazy bachelor freak, you can marry into the Madrigal gold.”

You were honestly too shocked to speak. First of all, you and your sister weren’t exactly beggars. Second of all, as if your motivations could be so cruel. So heartless. “Ignore her.” Your sister urged you. “She used to be sweet on him, she’s just jealous.”

But it happened again. The candle-maker lured you over to him in the market, whispering that you needed to be careful. That Bruno had powers none of us understood. That he was dangerous. You did your best to assure him that you understood exactly how Brunos powers worked, and that you trusted him with your life, but he didn’t seem convinced.

And Bruno…Bruno was hiding something. For the first time since your relationship began, the dark circles under his eyes were returning. You tried to ask him what was wrong, but he just said he hadn’t slept well. Knowing a certain set of ears had a favorite Tio, you tracked down Dolores.

“People are being really mean. He doesn’t want to tell you, because he doesn’t want you to think it’s your fault.” She said before you could even speak. “They’ve never been nice to him, exactly, but this is the worst I’ve seen it.” Her big doe eyes stared straight into yours. “I think the townsfolk feel a little…protective of you. And they think….” She pursed her lips.

“Please, Dolores. I need to fix this.” You pleaded.

“They think he somehow…forced you. The way he forces bad things to happen. Which he doesn’t. But they don’t know that. We do.” With a squeak, she scuttled off.

It doesn’t matter, you told yourself. You know the truth. This was fine. This was okay, and it didn’t matter, and you love Bruno and Bruno loves you and it was fine. You kept repeating it to yourself even as hot tears dripped down your cheeks. You slid down the wall, hugging your knees to your chest as you sobbed. You had thought, you really had, that somehow this would make things better. That through the sheer power of love, people would see who Bruno truly was.

“What’s this?” You wiped at your eyes to see Camilo standing above you. Before you knew it he was beside you, but much taller, so he could wrap his arms around you and hold you tight to his now-broad chest. You tearfully explained what had happened, how things had only been made worse.

“No, no. We can work with this.” Camilo turned back into himself, brows knit in concentration.

“But how? How can we prove that I’m with Bruno of my own free will?’

A lightbulb.

“You break up with him!” Camilo clapped. “A big, messy public breakup. Then, he makes a big show of wooing you, proving he is a better man and worthy of your love.”

“He is worthy of my love.” You said petulantly.

“I know that, but they don’t.”

“It doesn’t matter, Bruno would never agree. I doubt he’s willing to leave the house right now.” When he didn’t respond, you looked up to see a mischievous, catlike grin on Camilo's face.

“I don’t see a problem with that.”

[thetiredstuff]

oh same here, I've blocked dozens and dozens of destiel blogs over the last few days. basically anyone wishing death or other horrible things on jensen (and jarpad, I mean, I dont like the guy either, but that is going way too far), anyone fantasizing about and plotting ways to make jensen suffer, anyone claiming he is a rabid homophobe, anyone hoping to destroy his career... and all the people gleefully celebrating that "everyone" has turned on jensen now because they've always hated jensen and always knew he was a horrible person etc.

I absolutely cannot stand that kind of gross mob mentality and I find it hilarious that they all think they're the most woke and progressive people in this fandom, when they don't have a shred of kindness and consideration between them. they're the ones who would have called for people to be burned at the sake in the middle ages (and I've literally seen them wish for exactly that for jensen and jared) and they don't even realize it.

Yeah exactly this! I also agree about the wishing (severe) bodily harm. My stance on my presence online is: would I say it to their face? And I would absolutely say all of what I've said to jp's face. But I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I wished bodily harm on someone. I'd rather they see some consequences for their actions.

Although, I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't disclose that I definitely sometimes wish for people to step on Lego or maybe fall down some stairs. Not badly but ya know. But that's the bad person in me.

But yes people have definitely gone off the rails with what happened this past weekend.

And I am sick of people coming for Jensen every chance they get. The loved calling him "fruity", which already irked me to death because that is an insult that is still not been reclaimed by the queer men it's been used against and almost all of the peopel using that insult as a "joke" had no business using it in the first place.

And then when he doesn't dance exactly like they want him to, they turn on him in an instant. Literally everyone says stuff they are not supposed to say, or puts their foot in their mouth, or encounters situations where they should have said something but didn't. Because we aren't perfect. Humans are not perfect.

But seeing how humans react to missing the mark, to putting their foot in their mouth, to not standing up when needed, to saying something they shouldn't have, that is incredibly important. And the context.

People keep coming for Jensen over his "open for interpretation" but guess what? He literally cannot confirm nor deny how Dean feels about Cas. Why? Because we never saw in the show how Dean felt.

The contracts that they signed basically boil down to: the show has ended so you cannot add to the existing material. You cannot add something of dialogue, or feelings, or stories about your character. You cannot speak in the name of your character. Which is why Misha had to stipulate during his panel "THAT THIS IS NOT CANON" He yelled it very loudly before answering about Cas in Heaven.

So technically, yes, Jensen can answer the question if he stipulates that what he is about to say is not canon. But it could jeopardize any projects with WB or in the SPN universe down the line. And it could jeopardize his potential career if he doesn't take contracts seriously.

What counts to me is that over the years, there have been so many queer fans who shared their interactions with Jensen and all of them have been positive. Haven't seen a negative one yet. Besides that, we've heard about his commitment to LGBTQ+ organizations. He doesn't do it for PR because the only reason we know about it is because those organizations or those in attendance reveal it later on.

And now he's started up a company with someone who is making waves for LGBTQ+ talent in Hollywood. Moreover, in every article mentioning Chaos Machine, it mentions the LGBTQ+ efforts of this person. A press release only ever reveals the most important information. The fact that her LGBTQ+ efforts have been mentioned in every single article means that this was not only in the press release but was high up in it as well because the information higher up in a press release is the most important one.

And about progressiveness: you cannot progress if you are not given the chances and space to do so. Being progressive is learning and unlearning. It is messing up constantly and trying to do better and educating yourself.

From the tidbits we've heard of Jensen, he genuinely seems like a nice guy. A little too nice towards jp if you ask me because he should have been facing consequences a long time ago but it is what it is because Jensen isn't the only one who is around jp's orbits so that responsibility shouldn't be solely placed on him (especially not since it seems like he no longer considers jp a friend)

Jensen has shown his willingness of learning and has altered his answers before after learning new information. People also seem to forget that he is shy. Like he might sing on stage and be an actor but he is a shy dude. He doesn't like solo panels, although he has clearly gotten a lot better at, but if you don't like solo panels, you also don't like due panels because the problem isn't being alone on stage, it's that he is shy and seems to get anxious.

Having to be perfect while being shy or anxious is literally an impossible situation. And I'm really fucking sick at all the Jensen-is-a-homophobe stuff.

When I got into this fandom, the Jensen-is-a-homophobe-stuff was so omnipresent, I genuinely thought for a second he was and it gave me just a ton of sadness. Not because I parasocialized with him but because I loved the show and I don't want homophobic actors play my favorite characters.

Jensen just can never catch a break. People are just lying in wait until he puts a toe out of the perfect mold and then the minefield they've layed around him explodes with the most vile stuff you can imagine. I'm sick of it. Also hilariously hypocritical how so many people are saying the most vile stuff about Ackles when a ton of them keep on following someone who is phobic against at least two queer identities within the LGBTQ+ community.

sorry this is so long, i kinda pop off when it comes to this subject lol.

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

Crescent Chapter 3 Revision Notes

Revised Chapter 3 is out baby, view it on tumblr dont talk to me about the links not working on that post its broken for some reason or ao3! Since this chapter feels like the one most heavily updated, here’s some notes on what was reworked

Removed Roman’s pov from the very beginning and replaced it with Patton’s pov. I made this decision because it felt like it made for a stronger opening. Some of Roman’s beginning inner monologue in the original is reused at the end of the revised chapter

Patton tearing that mugger apart is now 40% more gruesome and descriptive. 

Patton’s character is now more rounded out and thoroughly explored imho

Roman, Patton and Logan are now 20% more werewolf in their behavior 

Instead of Logan conveniently arriving home for that Dramatic Entrance when Patton finishes telling Roman what’s up, he’s just there and ready to silently disapprove Patton’s choices in life

The Argument at the end between the three is a bit more expanded upon and Patton has a bit more agency in it. 

Original Word-Count was 2557, Updated Word-Count is 4574, little over 2k more than the original.

Included below is the original chapter 3 so you can see the differences if you’d like

To be fair, Roman wasn’t surprised when Patton came home a stray in tow. Patton had a heart of gold—there wasn’t a mean bone in his body. He cried easily. He cried when a girl and her dog got separated in a movie, and he cried again when the two were reunited. He couldn’t bear passing by a downed bird, injured and all alone. It was why they now had a flock of ravens that took shelter within the confines of their yard.

Roman knew it was always hard for Patton to let go of the strays after he nursed them back to health. He grew attached to their presences, loved them like they were his own children. But he also knew that they couldn’t really care for pets with their type of lifestyle beyond the wild animals like the ravens that just wouldn’t leave. However, that was alright. A flock of ravens were considered good luck among werewolves.

So the ravens stayed, whilst the others were sent away. Logan always did his best to help situate the animals into loving homes. It made Patton feel better knowing that they went to owners who’d care for them just as much as he did.

What he was surprised about was the…species of the stray Patton brought home.

He heard the door click open, as he worked on his canvas. He didn’t bother glancing up. He didn’t need to use his nose to know it was Patton entering their humble yet magnificent dwelling. It couldn’t be anyone else, but Patton as Logan didn’t get off work this early, and there wasn’t anyone else who had a key to the house.

“Hey, padre!” He greeted, frowning as he redrew the eyes of his sketch, “Did you complete your quest to obtain the chocolate chip cookies with the extra chocolateyness?”

“Oh my goodness,” Patton gasped, “I left the cookies back in the city!”

“What happened? Did you get sidetracked by a baby squirrel again?” Roman chuckled.

He expected Patton to launch into some excited ramble about the cute poor animal he came across, or perhaps amazing scent trail that derailed him from his errand. But instead Patton seemed hesitant to share information.

“Not…exactly.” Patton admitted.

“What do you mean?” Roman finally looked up.

Instead of the kitten or baby bird that Roman expected to find, there was a stranger in Patton’s arms. Small and thin and pale in baggy black clothing. His first thought that must be another werewolf—Patton wouldn’t dare bring a human here, would he? But Roman took one sniff and knew immediately.

There was no mistake about it; Patton had brought a human into the home.

“Patton why is he here?” Roman growled, “He’s a human!”

The older man pressed his lips together, walking past Roman to lay the human on the couch before facing him once more.

“He was in trouble, Roman! He—he was all alone and I couldn’t just leave him—” Patton drew a breath, “Please, let me explain.”

-

To be fair, Patton did not mean to go sniffing out for trouble. He only meant to go sniffing out for cookies after another botched attempt at creating them. As much as he loved making food in the kitchen, baking was not his strong suit. Logan said it was because he wasn’t exact with his measurements. Patton didn’t see how adding more sugar could ruin the recipe that much. He only wanted to make the cookies sweeter, and what’s sweeter than sugar itself?

It was alright though, because that just gave himself an excuse to visit Thomas. He let his nose take all the way downtown to the Piece of Cake bakery. The bell jangled as he bounced in, grinning around at the pastel interior of the bakery. He took a deep breath in, letting the sweet scents of the desserts invade his nose.

“Hi Patton! What’ll it be today?” Thomas asked, giving a friendly wave from his place at the counter.

“Thomas! It’s so good to see you!” Patton squealed, reaching over the counter to give the man a hug.

The man let out a surprised yelp, but eagerly returned the hug just the same. He learned by now that Patton often to forgot to ask before he invaded people’s personal spaces in his rush to lavish them with affection.

“Opps sorry,” Patton gave a bashful grin as he withdrew from the hug, “I was just excited to see you! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you!”

“Patton, it’s only been like three days,” Thomas laughed.

“I know, but still.” Patton pouted.

The two made friendly conversation as Patton picked out his order. It wasn’t until another customer came into the bakery that the two exchanged their goodbyes, and Patton made his departure.

He hummed cheerfully, swinging the bag of cookies with each stride. Occasionally at intersections he took a moment to open the bag and smell the delicious sugary delights. Chocolate Chip, Snickerdoodles, Sugar Cookies—the scents tickled his nose with glee.

Patton loved scents—they often told the truth more often than someone else’s words or his own eyes could. He was happy he could always trust his nose when his other senses failed him. He couldn’t imagine not being able to smell! He’d rather give up his sight or his hearing than not being able to smell the comforting presences of his packmates.

Once, Logan revealed to him that humans couldn’t smell as well as their kind. Patton cried for fifteen minutes straight after that.

“Why are you crying?” Logan asked, awkwardly patting Patton’s back, “Humans’ sense of smell may be feeble compared to ours, but they have been able to survive just fine with it the way that it is. Besides, it is not as if they know the difference.”

“Exactly!” Patton sobbed harder, “They’ll never know how—how wonderful smell is.”

Logan sighed.

“Would it help any to say as a former human, that I now know how wonderful a heightened sense of smell can be?”

“A little.” Patton sniffled.

The crosswalk switched from an angry red hand to the cute walking stick figure that signaled it was the pedestrians turn to walk. The crowd surged forward, a few people bumping into Patton’s shoulder as they passed by him.

“Oh!” He looked up from the bag, spying the crosswalk signal. He covered up the bag once more and hurried across the crosswalk.

It was a long walk to the outskirts of the city where Roman, Logan and Patton lived, but he much preferred it over taking the car. As much as he enjoyed driving, he didn’t enjoy that thick traffic that left him antsy in the seat knowing he could walk faster than how fast the car was crawling across the interstate. When there wasn’t traffic clogging the streets, the car whipped by faster than Patton’s liking.

He took the idiom “stop and smell the roses” literally. Patton enjoyed walking because of the journey. He loved hearing the chatter out of the bustling city, the wind rustling his hair, seeing the various sights that the city had to offer. Not to mention the smells. While some scents like gasoline could be nauseating to smell, there was scents like—pizza. Greasy breading baked with tomato sauce and cheese with a variety of toppings. His stomach grumbled in agreement.

As if in a trance, Patton’s feet led him in the direction of a nearby pizzeria. It wasn’t until he was a block away from the restaurant that he realized how far off he deviated from the walk home. He needed to walk north, not inwards towards the heart of the city. As much as his mouth watered for pizza, he already prepared a delicious meal at home. He would have to save pizza for another day. Perhaps he could even make homemade pizza! He hadn’t tried that doing that yet.

It was hard to suppress his urge to chase after every wonderful scent that infiltrated his nose, however. The closer he came towards home, the more overwhelming it became. When Patton had been younger, it was harder for him to ignore the urges to chase after the scents. Flowers, perfume, the smell of Asian food wafting in the air from a nearby restaurant—it enticed and overwhelmed him.

He chased the scents, curious to see where they led. Often, he found himself in trouble from sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. After spending his childhood largely isolated from the human world, he had been ignorant of appropriate manners among humans. For example, humans often took offense if you smelled them. Whereas werewolves had very little sense of personal space. Something that could be found inherent in Patton by how he heaped affection on people within five seconds of meeting them.

Patton knew better now. He recognized he couldn’t gleefully chase each scent without abandon. He had a responsibility to look after the needs of the others. If Patton didn’t remind the two workaholics when to eat, he wasn’t sure who else would.

Gotta focus, gotta focus, gotta focus. The mantra ran through his mind repeatedly. He opened the bag of cookies once more, taking a deep whiff to remind himself of his mission. The rich chocolate, cinnamon goodness and fear reminded him that he can’t wait to share them with the others—wait.

Patton paused in the middle of the sidewalk, causing the person behind him to grumble in frustration. Fear? That can’t be right. That scent doesn’t belong with a cookie but rather—a living being. He scanned the bustling crowd who traveled down the sidewalk as usual. The scent of increased perspiration clung to the air, how could the humans just ignore it? Could they not smell it?

He didn’t stay put to find out. There’s no question in his mind whether if he should not follow this scent. His heart pounded, as he dashed after the scent. He trusted his nose to lead him to the source.

“Opps, Excuse me! Sorry!” He called out, apologizing to disgruntled pedestrians as he tore through the foot traffic. His large, hulking figure was perfect at plowing through the crowd—no one wanted to get trampled by a 6’2 man.

He skidded around a corner, the scent leading him to the entrance of a winding, dark alleyway. There lay a sight that angered him. A large burly human held a gun against a smaller one, who shook badly from terror.

Patton let out a low growl, too upset to say anything intelligible. His claws came out as he launched himself at the mugger, tearing him away from the small human. A shot rang out from his gun, and Patton could only hope it didn’t hit the human on the ground. The mugger attempted pointing his gun towards Patton, but he ripped the weapon out of his hand and onto the ground.

The mugger made a frantic scramble after it, but Patton pinned him to the ground. He sunk his claws into the man, and only let go when the man went limp.

He breathed in deeply, forcing himself to relax. His instincts screamed at him to remain on guard. But the danger had passed, and he needed to make sure the small human was okay. He was ignorant of a lot of things about humans, but he did know they could be easily frightened by his more wolfish appearance. The last thing he wanted was to scare the poor guy even further. As soon as he morphed back into a humanoid appearance, his focus went immediately to the small human—his eyes widening in concern at their collapsed figure.

“Are you alright?!” He called out as he rushed to their side. Their head lolled backwards, signaling that they had gone unconscious.

A surge of protectiveness took over him as he immediately gathered the human in his embrace. He can’t help but marvel over how small and fragile the human looked! He must have been the runt in his litter. The human wore a raggedy black hoodie and ripped jeans with scuffed up converse. His face was too thin to be healthy, and those circles underneath his eyes! If the poor thing didn’t faint from fright, he certainly fainted from exhaustion.

He gasped upon seeing the bandages wrapped around the human’s hands. The skin underneath looked red and swollen, indicating it was a fresh wound. The human’s hair was glistened with sweat. Patton pressed a hand against his forehead and nearly flinched at how warm it felt. He shouldn’t feel this warm…humans shouldn’t feel this warm, right?

Patton snuck a glance towards the mugger, and immediately withheld the urge to vomit. The wounds looked deeper than Patton had initially thought and although the mugger was still breathing, it might not be for long. Patton was a lover not a fighter. The thought that he could be this man’s cause of death was haunting. But as he looked back down at the runt, he didn’t regret it. The mugger had threatened an innocent life, and Patton wasn’t going to stand there and watch it happen.

That was also the reason why he couldn’t just leave the human, alone and unconscious, in the alley alone with the bleeding-out stranger that tried to kill him. If someone came across him, he’d be an easy meal. He had to take the human somewhere safe. The only thing is, Patton had no way of knowing where he lived. He had no way of tracking down his home. It was nearly impossible to distinguish a scent from the hundreds of millions of aromas existing in the city air.

A scream interrupted his thoughts. Patton looked up to see a woman staring from the entrance of the alleyway, covering up her mouth in horror. Patton’s mind came to a screeching halt as his instincts screamed a singular command at him. Run.

This was not a time to attempt explaining the situation. His nerves were shot, and he was afraid of what was going to befall on the human. Would the other humans see how sick and small he was and attempted to finish what the mugger started? He couldn’t let this small human go through any more pain than he already had. Not now he was here. He scooped up the human in his arms, sprinting into through the sidewalks of the city.

He ran as fast as his feet would carry him, afraid that police sirens would be after him at any moment. Patton was fast, but not fast enough to outrun a car. Especially while carrying the human, despite how worryingly light he was.

Patton, being paranoid, took detours—attempting to throw off any would-be pursuers off his trail. When he finally reached the porch of the house, he almost collapsed from exhaustion. The human let out a cry in his sleep, and Patton stroked his hair.

“Shhh,” He said, “You’re safe now.”

The human unconsciously leaned into the touch, completely relaxing in Patton’s hold. The werewolf’s heart melted even further.  If Patton’s heart was a popsicle, it was now a puddle of sugary sweet liquid.

As he sat on the porch, the human lying draped across his lap, he started to realize that Logan and Roman probably wouldn’t be happy with this arrangement. But Patton wasn’t going to abandon him, even if he was a human!

Which was why, he was now pleading to let the human stay with them.

“Please Roman, he needs help, I couldn’t just leave him all like that!” Patton begged, “Please don’t tell Logan—not yet, at least.”

“Tell Logan, what?”

Logan stood in the door frame, arms crossed as he stared down at the unconscious form of the human on the couch. Patton gulped.

He did not look happy.

“Hi Logan,” Patton chuckled nervously.

“What is he doing here?” Logan gestured to the human, “He shouldn’t be here, Patton. Do you remember what happened last time we let a human in our house?”

“This—this is different,” Patton insisted, “He needs us!”

“He needs to go!” Roman burst, clenching his fists.

Logan turned to look at Patton.

“Explain.” He said, and Patton did.

He repeated the same story as he had with Roman, with a few occasional interruptions by Logan who reminded him to stick the facts and not stray off into tangents. Once he finished, Logan sighed and pinched his nose between his fingers.

“So, what I’m hearing is that you panicked and weren’t thinking straight.”

Roman snorted. “Patton doesn’t think straight—ever.”

“I couldn’t just leave him all alone like that! What if he got attacked again?” Patton huffed.

“You could’ve left him at a police station or taken him to the hospital if you were worried about his health.”

Now that he thought about it, those might’ve been better options. Logan had always been good at figuring out more rational solutions to problems than Patton. But it didn’t change the fact that the tiny human was here now and needed their help.

“He needs a pack, Logan. And I know you know how to care for sick humans!”

Logan raised an eyebrow, “Patton, humans are social creatures, I’m sure he has packmates of his own who are concerned by his disappearance. There’s also no telling how he would react once discovering our true nature. We should take him to the hospital.”

Patton frowned. He hadn’t taken in consideration that the small human might already have packmates. If he did, Patton didn’t think they were good packmates based on the human’s malnourished appearance.

“We don’t have to tell him about the pack. But we can’t just leave him alone in the hands of strangers, Logan! We should care for him until we find out where his packmates are.”

Roman glanced between the two like a child observing an argument between their parents unfold in front of them.

Logan said nothing, reaching downwards to feel the human’s forehead.

“His temperature is unusually warm,” He noted, “We should take his jacket off—to help cool down his temperature.”

Patton’s eyes widened.

“Does that mean—”

“Yes, he can stay,” Logan said before clarifying, “only until he’s no longer ill.”

Roman’s eyes flashed angrily.

“Wh—”

“Patton, can you go prepare the spare bedroom for the human?” Logan interrupted.

“Of course!” Patton beamed as he scurried out.

As soon as Patton left the room, Roman turned to face Logan.

“Do I have no say in this?” Roman spluttered indignantly, “Am I the only one who thinks this is a bad idea? It’s a human, Logan. A. Human.”

“A human who is physically weaker, underfed and feverish compared to us. While it would be optimal to take him to a hospital, you and I both know about how attached Patton gets to…strays. I theorize he’s able to pack-bond more easily with other species than us.”

“Look, I don’t want to hurt Patton’s feelings as much you do, but we should put the safety of the pack first.”

“I did consider the safety of the pack in my decision making. This is a compromise—we’ll look after the human for long as he’s sick in exchange for Patton promising to return him to his friends and family,” Logan explained, “Who knows? The human might even want to leave early.”

He walked towards his study before turning to glance back at Roman.

“Make no mistake. I know how dangerous humans can be; I was once one myself, Roman, and I have no intentions of harboring the delusion of keeping one in our home any longer than necessary.”

[ticklishshenanigansau]

Ticklish Shenanigans - Chapter 37

Da Adventures of Snas n Kibben!!! yAyA!!!

Mod Yosh ~ Angel, Temmie, Temmie, Temmie, Temmie Headmaster & Bob Mod Kitty ~ Sans, Flowey

One by one, little white dog-like monsters — or were they more cat-like? — wearing blue shirts began to pop out of the bushes surrounding the tree, each one squeaking out a single, “hOI!” as they did so. One of the little creatures walked forward, seeming to vibrate intensely with excitement.

“hOI!!!” she said, smiling wide. “im temmie!!! and dis is my friend.... temmie!!!” She gestured to one of the Temmies at random, who hopped out of the bush and approached to give her greeting.

“hOI!!! im temmie!!! and dis is my friend.... temmie!!!” She pointed to yet another Temmie, who approached and gave the same greeting and introduction of another Temmie.

“hOI!!! im temmie!!! and dis is my friend.... temmie!!!”

“hOI!!! im temmie!!! and dis is my friend.... temmie!!!”

“hOI!!! im temmie!!! dont forget my friend—!”

“We get it, you’re all named Temmie!” Angel suddenly meowed impatiently, glaring down at them.

“hOI, Kibben!” The first Temmie shouted gleefully, seemingly unfazed by Angel’s interruption. She tilted her head curiously, still smiling, as her gaze shifted to Sans. “Who are u? Hooman made of bone?”

----

"uhh, hi. i'm sans. sans the skeleton. listen i'd love to hang around, but can you let us down from here so we can have a chat...?" he asked hopefully.

----

The horde all gasped and leaped back at once, beginning to murmur amongst themselves.

“Skell made pUN!”

“pUN r no-no in TEM Villag!”

“Skell in alot o truble!”

The first Temmie let out a loud squeak to quiet down the other Temmies, and all at once they fell silent, turning their attention to her. She looked back up at Sans with a heavy frown. “TEM Headmaster ban pUN from TEM Villag. Skell get punished!”

“yAyA!!!” the Temmies all cheered in unison.

----

"wait, what...!?" Sans yelped, completely startled. "h-hey, can't i get some leniency? i don't know your, uh, village laws ... b-but if ya let me go, i'd love to, uh, learn 'em...?" he attempted.

----

“Hmm.... Let TEM talk to other TEMs.” She turned to face the other small monsters. “We let pUN go?”

“nU! nU! nU!” they all chanted angrily, hopping up and down.

Turning back to Sans, she shrugged. “Unanimous vote, sorrie. TEMS!” She turned back to the horde. “Bring Skell and Kibben to TEM Dungeon! TEM talk to TEM Headmaster.”

“yAyA!!!” Working together, the Temmies cut Sans and Angel down before using the vines from the trap to tie them up. They then hoisted the duo up and began making their rather bouncy way deeper into the woods.

Angel hissed and growled in fear. “Let us go! Let us go now! Sans, do something!”

----

"hhh—! c-c'mon...!" Struggling a bit in panic in his restraints, Sans glanced at Angel. "i ... i c-can't, that last shortcut took everything outta me ... i-i'm still recovering...."

----

“Oh, no! Oh, what are we gonna do?...”

The Temmie horde brushed past several large ferns that acted as a sort of gateway to a rebuilt Temmie Village, which didn’t look all that different from the one in Waterfall. The little monsters made quick work in untying Sans and Angel before literally throwing them into a large hole in the ground meant to act as a dungeon. They then rolled a rather large spherical rock over the hole to block out the exit, plunging the two friends into darkness. It would have been total darkness were it not for the small gaps that the rock couldn’t cover up.

This small bit of light reflected off of Angel’s eyes, allowing her to see better than the skeleton. However, it didn’t change the fact that she was still scared. Mewling softly, the kitten climbed into Sans’ lap and curled into a tight ball. “Wh-What’s gonna happen to us?”

----

"aughh—! hhf...!" Luckily the landing wasn't too hard.

Unable to see as much as she could, Sans leaned back against the wall of the pit, stroking Angel softly and methodically. He wished she wasn't in this predicament with him, but her presence did give him comfort. "hey, don't worry, okay?" he said quietly. "they’re probably going to just focus on me since i upset them, you'll be alright. maybe if they leave us in here long enough, i can get enough rest to get us outta here...."

----

Angel’s fur began to stand up in anger. “Their rule is so stupid. There’s nothing wrong with puns. I wish I could just fight them all if they try to lay a paw on you!” She exhaled heavily, her fur flattening again. Getting angry would get them nowhere, and besides.... “But I can’t because I’m just an ordinary, runty kitten being held hostage in monster territory.”

She looked up at him, scooching in a little closer to his chest. “It’s times like this where I wish you had one of those talk-into things like Papyrus does. Maybe then you would be able to call for help.”

----

"yeah ... i should probably get one. as it is, i'm not really in a position to argue with them. i didn't think they'd—!..."

With his magical energy so low, Sans very suddenly felt as if he'd hit rock bottom — as much as he literally had, sitting in a dark hole in the ground. His mood fell rather drastically as his SOUL began to ache. "...i promised pap i'd be careful about my magic usage, and look how careless i've been. what was i thinkin', confronting these scam artists with no defense.... i'm s-so useless...! f-flowey's right about m-me, all i''m good for is pushin' around...! w-why do i ever e-even t-try...?" His eyelights had flicked out as tears trickled, then streamed down his cheeks, his SOUL trembling inside him.

----

“No, no, no!” Angel reared up and balanced herself against Sans’ chest so she could lick away the tears. “Sans, that is not true! Sure, you’re caught between a rock and a hard place with that flower, but one of the many ... many things that Papyrus has told me about you is how powerful and reliable you are. He told me how you would always protect him from anything and anyone who dared to try and harm him. You also protected the non-mon— uh, the human during her time Underground.”

She nuzzled her head under his chin with a comforting purr. “And honestly, I don’t think you even need your magic all the time. You’re smart, quick-witted, and clever. I know you can get us out of this with just that. And once we’re out, you can rest and recharge your magic again, and this incident will be nothing more than a memory for us to look back on and laugh about.” She blinked slowly as she stared into his eyes lovingly. “Don’t lose hope, Sans. You have to stay strong. You’re on the Surface now, where the possibilities are endless. If you were to lose hope up here ... Papyrus would be devastated.”

----

Nuzzling and clinging to her, Sans quietly sobbed and hiccupped. "th-thanks ... you're r-right.... i gotta stay strong for pap." Comforted by her words and efforts to dry his tears, he calmed down, SOUL returning to its resting state. "heh ... don't know what i'd do without'cha right now...."

----

The kitten’s soft purring increased in volume as she gently bumped her forehead against Sans’ affectionately. “Anything for my owner’s amazing brother.”

Rumbling was suddenly heard from above as the little streaks of light began to grow in size. A small group of Temmies were pushing the rock off the dungeon’s entrance, and one of them poked her head into it to address the prisoners. “hOI! TEM Headmaster want to see u naow!”

Angel narrowed her eyes up at the little monster. “And how are we supposed to get out, huh? We couldn’t possibly reach all the way up there.”

“TEMS! Help Skell n Kibben!”

“yAyA!!!” The tossed down one end of a thick vine to Sans and Angel.

“Grab vine! TEMS pull u up!”

----

Dreading their judgement, but not wanting to stay in the 'dungeon', Sans carefully placed Angel back in his hoodie. "stay close to me," he told her softly, grabbing onto the vine tightly, squinting up into the light. "all right, i've got it, you can pull us up."

----

“Heave!”

“hOI!!!”

The Temmies all began pulling on the vine with astonishing strength until Sans and Angel were lifted out of the hole. Some covered the pit back up with the rock while the others tied Sans’ arms together for extra precaution, making sure he wouldn’t try to run away if he wanted to. Finally, they all led the two prisoners to a single Temmie, this one wearing a blue-and-yellow-striped shirt, who sat atop a high rock, smiling down at them.

“hOI! i am TEM Headmaster!” The Temmie blinked curiously at Sans, her smile not faltering. “Hmm? does TEM know u?” Suddenly, she gasped with excitement and began to vibrate a little. “TEM kno u! Snas! Friend o da Hooman! hOI, Snas! Remember TEM? TEM sold u Temmie Flakes™! yAyA!!”

“Wait, Sans, you actually know this mouse-brain of a Temmie headmaster?” Angel meowed, looking at her friend incredulously.

----

"i, uh...." Honestly, he had a hard time telling any of them apart. "look, let me just get to the point, i think there's been a huge misunderstanding." He held his bound arms out slightly in a submissive sort of gesture. "my brother asked me to deposit some gold in the bank and when i went to look for it, there was an envelope with a temmie flake in it instead. we hadn't planned on a transaction like that, so i was hoping we could just trade back?"

----

The Headmaster gasped loudly, her smile falling immediately. “TEM stole munz? Who stole munz?!” She glared accusingly at the horde.

All the Temmies were completely silent, save for the shocked murmuring amongst one another. After a few moments, a very guilty-looking Temmie stepped forward, her head lowered.

“I-I did....” she confessed softly, wincing at the loud gasps of her fellow clan mates.

“bOB?!” the Headmaster exclaimed. “But ... u smartest TEM! u kno better!”

“I-I’m sorry,” Bob began, speaking proper English instead of brokenly like the other Temmies, “but it’s just.... We were all running dangerously low on Gold because the village decided to live in the forest away from the rest of society. No one has any jobs, and ... well, we have yet to see anyone willing to buy your Temmie Flakes, Headmaster. No one was doing anything about our situation, so ... I did.” She looked back at Sans and bowed her head apologetically. “I’m sorry for stealing. I know it was wrong, but if I hadn’t tried something....”

Angel narrowed her eyes and leapt up on Sans' head, glaring daggers at the Temmie. “Save your sorry story for someone who cares! You stole from my owner! If I weren't so tiny and weak, I'd claw your eyes out for that!”

“I-I-I-....” Bob backed away, panicking.

----

Sans lightly ducked his head. "hey, e-easy there...! i-it's all right, angel." He knelt down with a peaceful smile directed to Bob. "look, i understand, and i'm glad you owned up to it, that's pretty brave. i'm not mad at'cha. would you be alright with coming back home with me and talking to my bro about it when he gets home? it's not rightfully my money, so i can't really make a decision concerning it."

----

“R-Really? Thank you so much!” Bob turned back to the Headmaster. “Would that be okay?”

“Hmmmmmmmmm....” The Headmaster stroked her chin thoughtfully, drawing out the hum for several moments. Finally, she nodded. “OK! TEMS! Release Snas n Kibben!”

The Temmies all began surrounding Sans and Angel, a few of them beginning to tease the knot out of Sans’ restraints, when one of them suddenly shouted, “WAIT!!!” They all stopped and turned to the Temmie who shouted. It was hard to tell them apart, but this one may have been the same one who had spoken to Sans when he had been captured by the net trap. “He said pUN!”

The Headmaster gasped loudly in horror. “Snas ... said pUN? TEM told u no pUN around TEMS! u dont remember?!”

----

Hope swelled and then fell. He looked down. "i ... guess it must've slipped my mind. i'm really, truly sorry...."

----

The Headmaster shook her head with a sigh. “Sorrie. TEMS cant let pUN slide. Hmmm....” She placed her paw on her chin again as she thought for another moment. “Do u liek tickls? Tickls can be punishment! Only few tickls tho! Becuz TEM liek u!”

----

With a full-bodied jolt, Sans looked up at the Headmaster, eyes reflecting his distress at the suggestion, though he nervously grinned at her. "u-uh, can't ya put me in like ... 'time out' for a little while instead...?"

----

She shook her head. “Either little o tickls or alot o tickls.”

----

With a resigned sigh, Sans nodded. "a-alright, if you're willing to just make it a few, then i'm grateful." Glancing at the kitten, he smiled at her gently. "why don't you wait with bob for now, let 'em have me, okay?"

----

Angel hesitated for a while before reluctantly nodding. “Fine. So long as they don’t hurt you.” She leapt out of Sans’ hoodie onto the ground, walking over to stand next to Bob, who seemed to shuffle a bit uncomfortably.

“TEMS!” the Headmaster commanded. “Take off slippurs!”

The Temmies all sat Sans down on the ground and removed his slippers. An extra vine was tied around his ankles to keep them pinned together.

“TEMS! Ready feathurs!”

Next, about ten of them equipped themselves with fairly long sticks with multiple feathers tied to the ends with long strands of grass.

----

Setting his hands in his lap, Sans looked quite contrite for breaking such a ridiculous law. His toes curled at the sight of the feathers. Geeze, how did he keep ending up in these sorts of situations?

----

“TEMS! Time for tickls!”

“yAyA!!!” The Temmies began their ticklish onslaught, stroking the feathers in wild and uncoordinated movements, covering all over his feet and toes.

----

With a shrill squeal, Sans wriggled and tugged, flopping onto his back as it was difficult to bear sitting up. "aaheeeheee! haahaaaaha! noho! noooho! kkh~aahahaaaa! heeeheee! oho gahaaaahash, ihit t-tickles~!" His sockets already watered and he twisted around, feeling like he'd just stepped in a nest of living, angry feather dusters.

----

The Headmaster began bouncing up and down excitedly. “Moar tickls! Moar tickls!”

As the horde continued to feather at his feet and toes, a few others swooped in from the sides with great speed to untie Sans wrists, only to tie them up again behind his back. This left his torso vulnerable, and the other Temmies lifted up his shirt to rapidly rub their tiny fluffy paws against his ribs and spine.

----

Sans anxiously squirmed as they moved his hands, trying not to struggle or fight against them — though when they started on his torso, he couldn't help thrashing. "g-gaaahaaaaa! n-no, pleeheease! aahaaahaa! nahat m-myhehe rihibs! eheehehaaahaaaa!" So much punishment on the sensitive places combined was starting to push his limits, especially since he didn't have much of a bond of trust with the Temmies like he had with his family — official and not.

----

“TEMS! HALT!” The Headmaster waited until all the Temmies stopped tickling, and until Sans caught most of his breath, before speaking. “That was fun! But naow ur punishment end. TEMS! UNTIE SNAS!”

Still giggling to themselves, they untied his wrists and bounced off of his legs, freeing him.

Angel scampered up to Sans, looking up at him worriedly. “Are you okay, Sans?”

----

Giving his wrists a rub, he managed to give Angel a reassuring grin. "y-yeah, dont'cha worry about me." Glad to be free of any restraints, he scooped the kitten up, cuddling her against himself as he nodded toward the Headmaster. "thanks for hearing me out, hopefully we can get this all cleared up soon."

----

“yAyA! But remember! No pUN! okeh, bOB! u go with Snas n kibben!”

“Alright. I'll be back later.” Bowing her head farewell to the Headmaster, Bob trotted into a little tipi made up of large leaves, branches, and vines. Moments later, she walked back out and over to Sans and Angel, balancing the stolen pouch of Gold on her head. She bowed her head once again apologetically, letting the pouch slip off her head and onto the ground. “H-here you go.”

----

"don't worry, i won't forget after this, heh...." Turning to Bob, he smiled as he accepted the pouch. "hey, thanks. i guess i'll trade this back to ya, like i said." Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out the envelope, handing it over, then gently teased, "i guess you already know the way to our house, huh? well, let's get goin'." He began to walk through the trail between the ferns.

----

“H-heh.... Okay.” She still seemed a bit nervous and uneasy as she slid the envelope under a fern to collect later and trotted after the larger monster.

Angel glared down at the Temmie. “When in the world did you even break in anyway, huh?”

“Umm....” Bob looked away shamefully. “L-last night while everyone was asleep ... I slipped in through the window in the kitchen and scoured around the house until I found the pouch of Gold in someone's bedroom. I grabbed it and fled back out the window.”

“Huh? Wait.... If you came in and left through the kitchen window, didn't that mean Flowey had to have noticed? He practically lives on that windowsill.”

“F-Flowey? Who's that?”

----

Sans shuddered, looking away as he walked. "o-oh, was he not there? i didn't even go downstairs last night, so i didn't see...." He was too much of a coward. "maybe if i'd'a slept on the couch i woulda caught you myself, heh...."

----

“I really hate that stupid flower....”

“Flower? Oh, I saw a flower; it looked like a hybrid of a buttercup and a sunflower, kinda. Is.... Is it a monster?”

“Um ... I think so? So that means Flowey was present. Either this Temmie's extremely stealthy, or Flowey noticed and decided not to tell anyone. I wouldn't put it past that piece of fox dung....”

----

Sans scuffed the ground with his slipper in a bit of frustration. "well, if he was there, then i'm sure he noticed. probably thought it was fun to watch. we should probably start locking up his window at night if he's just gonna let thieves come inside at their leisure. uh, no offense, bob, i know you know it was wrong."

----

Bob nodded slowly, eyes to the ground. “Um.... S-so.... You're friends with the ambassador, the human who liberated all monsters? That's ... really cool actually. I remember her coming into Temmie Village one time. She somehow had enough Gold to pay for Headmaster to go to college, as well as a few Temmie Flakes. She's a very kind human … even if she was allergic to us. At least the Temmie Armor she had bought seemed to protect her afterwards, though.”

----

Expression softening, Sans nodded. "yeah, she's one special person all right. she should be coming home around the same time as pap, so maybe you'll get to see her again. shoot ... i keep forgetting to get myself a watch, i don't know what time it is.... though i guess cell phones have the time too, and it's really gettin' apparent i need one...."

----

Angel couldn't help but purr with laughter. “Isn't that the truth!”

Bob smiled a bit. “Y-yes, it would be nice to see her again.”

“Our house shouldn't be too far off!” Leaping out of Sans' arms, Angel scampered off. “Race ya there, Sans!”

----

"ghh—!" Sans always cheated at races, it was one of his favorite pranks to play — especially heading in the opposite direction at the start. But now that wasn't an option, so he did his best to keep pace behind her. Already quite exhausted from his punishment, and not exactly fit anyway, Sans was heavily panting and just about dragging his feet by the time he reached the porch. "hff ... hhf ... you ... hh ... you win...." Taking out his key, he unlocked and opened the door, waiting for everyone to get inside and staggering over to the couch, dropping himself on it.

----

Angel purred loudly and twitched her whiskers. “You really need to exercise more! Maybe I could set up a routine!”

Bob giggled behind a paw softly before looking around. “Hmm? Where's your brother?”

“He's probably not home yet. Oh! That reminds me! Sans, can I have a piece of that tuna now?”

----

"yeah...," Sans mumbled, eyes closed, arm draped over the edge of the couch and laying on his front. "just lemme rest for ... just a sec...." A few moments later it was apparent he'd fallen asleep as he began to breathe slowly and rhythmically.

----

Angel huffed softly. “Oh, well. Guess I'll go annoy Flowey for a bit.” She trotted into the kitchen and leapt up on the counter, sitting at the edge of the sink and looking up intensely at Flowey. “Hey, Flowey, why'd you let Bob steal Papyrus' money?”

Unsure of what else to do, Bob decided to leap up on the couch next to Sans. It was a bit awkward for her to curl up next to someone she'd just met, but she found the sleeping skeleton to be surprisingly cuddly. She snuggled against him a bit before closing her eyes and drifting off as well.

----

Flowey turned to face the kitten as she came close. "I was curious to see what she'd do. I know her — I know everyone from the Underground — and she's pretty harmless. Would you rather I terrorized her?" His grin grew, teeth showing, tilting his head.

The monster next to him was rather cuddly herself, and Sans unconsciously wrapped an arm around her.

----

“I would rather you had told someone about it instead of let everyone freak out over it. You're a sick, vile creature. What has anyone ever done to you for you to treat everyone this poorly? Sans and Papyrus and all the other monsters are so kind!”

----

Flowey shrugged his leaves, still smiling. "Well, I found it satisfying to hear that garbage skeleton panic about it. I've had enough of him being so smug with his tricks, it's entertaining to play with him."

His expression suddenly, but subtly shifted, beady eyes slightly narrowed, grin slightly rougher. "I believe I told you that I was murdered. My family's torn apart. Life isn't fair or nice. You just have to know the right way to use people to survive and get what you want."

----

“I had major issues with my life, too, but that doesn't mean I manipulate people and torment them to do my bidding! Seriously, doesn't it hurt at least a little to be doing something like this to innocent monsters, or Frisk? What about Toriel and Denise? You can't just be made of pure evil.”

----

"I don't feel anything at all!" Flowey spat, rather venomously. He tilted his head suddenly as if in a bit of self-realization. "...Not when it comes to other people, anyway."

----

Flinching at his outburst, Angel narrowed her eyes. “So you're just a self-centered jerk who torments others just because you can and nothing more.... What would your parents say if they knew you were doing this? Who even are your parents?”

----

Matching her glare with a bit of an indifferent air, he answered, "I know very well what my parents would say. I've lived it. All they do is pity me and feel bad that they can't make me who I was. It's so much less of a hassle when they don't know. But, if you must know, then all I'll say is that smiley trashbag is...,” he gritted his teeth, hunching on his stem, “currently courting my mom."

----

Her eyes widened and her fur stood on end in pure shock. “Your mom is Toriel? And you didn't tell her this? She needs to know! Maybe she'll be able to help you! Thankfully she'll be home soon so I'll be able to tell her then!”

----

"You'll only tell her if you want me to RESET and make you forget everything. But not before tormenting Sans a little first. Maybe even Papyrus too," he threatened.

----

“I don't believe this! You don't even want any help? You know what? Fine, be that way! If you truly wanna make an enemy outta people instead of friends, be my guest!” She leapt off the counter and stormed off, her tail lashing back and forth in anger.

----

After a moment's pause, Flowey called after her, "Listen, you little idiot! I tried to get help from them, and it didn't work. They can't help me. No one can. That's just the way it is! I'm sure you'd agree it'll be much easier not to have Mom moping around that she can't do anything about it!"

----

“Well, at least Toriel would know her son isn't truly dead.... You really do only care about yourself, don't you?” She shot him a nasty glare — though her eyes seemed to shine with a twinge of sympathy — and trotted back into the living room.

----

"The one she wants is...," Flowey muttered, watching her leave. Turning back to the window, he closed his eyes, basking in the filtered sunlight.

----

Angel leapt up on the couch and curled up next to Sans and Bob. She tried not to think too much about Flowey, though she couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He did go through a lot after all. But that still gave him no right to do what he was doing to Sans and Papyrus, or whoever else he was doing awful things to. She huffed softly, dismissing the thoughts, and closed her eyes to rest.

[magma-cjay]

https://www.heroforge.com/load_config%3D14241314/

————–

“How long has it been since Diavolo’s henchmen attacked?” Abbacchio pondered, as he gazed out at the rising full moon.

“Hm, there was a quarter moon on the day of the attack, so I assume it’s been a week since,” Fugo explained. The two harpies had been vigilantly keeping watch for the past few days, with the rest of Risotto’s pod, especially Prosciutto, patrolling the waters around the island to watch for any danger. So far, there was no sign of their return, but they were better safe than sorry.

But the passage of a week meant something more special for Bruno: it was the time to have the bandages of his wing removed and his injury examined by Giorno. He walked down the path leading to Giorno’s hut, which had been smoothened and covered in soft wet sand, to make it more accessible for Risotto and the other mermen.

Risotto followed Bruno down the path, wearing his scarf as usual as well as the hat Bruno had made for him. All the time he had spent on land had served him nicely as he was now quite adept outside the water, as long as he kept himself moist.

He wriggled along the sandy path beside Bruno, who slowed his pace to let his legless lover keep up. On land, Risotto moved much like a seal: he rhythmically undulated his body and tail forwards in a rippling motion, while using his elbows for leverage. It was faster, and less abrasive on his tail than dragging himself, but he looked incredibly silly moving in such a fashion and Bruno couldn’t help but hold back a giggle.

Risotto felt a slight hint of embarassment at his awkward means of locomotion. “Gee, Bruno, I’m sorry you have to see me like this. In the water I’m a lot more dignified, I’m not exactly built for land.”

Bruno smiled down at the flopping merman. “Don’t bother yourself too much with it, Riz,” he reassured. “I appreciate that you’re making do with what you have and trying your best to spend time with me. Besides…I do think your wriggling is rather adorable,” he added with warm, friendly chuckle.

Risotto blushed and paused mid-wiggle. “A-adorable? Y-you think the way I move is adorable?” He’d always despised that one flaw of himself, how he had to pathetically struggle about outside his natural environment, as clumsy as a fish out of water, which he was, in a way. He never expected that someone, let alone a harpy, would find that endearing about him.

Bruno laughed. “There’s a lot adorable about you, Riz, but especially that wiggle. Now come on, keep going, Giorno’s waiting for the two of us!” Bruno continued on his way as Risotto resumed his wriggling, but this time, with much more confidence. It was an ‘adorable’ wriggle, after all.

Soon the two reached Gio’s hut, where he had prepared a large tub to accommodate Risotto. “I’ll be checking on your wounds in a minute,” Gio reassured the merman, “But first I have to check on Bruno’s wing.”

Risotto sat himself into the tub and sighed in relief as the warm water immersed his exhausted tail. “It’s alright, I don’t mind.”

“Alright, Bruno, come this way,” Giorno guided. “If you can, please sit over here.”

“BUT NOT ON ME!” a tiny voice cried out. “WATCH IT, BIRD BOY!”

Bruno wheeled around in surprise to see the source of the voice, which seemed to have come from a little wooden drinking-cup that sat on one end of Giorno’s examining table. Bruno looked closely, and to his amazement, it was a tiny merman– scarcely a few inches in length.

“Is this tiny fellow also one of Risotto’s podmates?” Bruno said in a fascinated tone. “I didn’t know they came to be this small…”

“That’s Formaggio,” Risotto explained. “He’s mastered the art of size-shifting and claims he’s skilled in magics.” Bruno’s eyes widened in wonder. “You’re a spellmaker like Giorno too? What else can you do?” he eagerly asked the miniscule mer.

Formaggio scratched his head in confusion. “Well, so far…just this.”

“And it shows what a GREAT magic user you are,” said Ghiaccio sarcastically, as he reclined in a nearby tub of water that had been filled with chunks of ice.

“Ghiaccio’s healing well but he’s not very cooperative,” Giorno explained, as he unbandaged Bruno’s wing. “That’s why I brought Formaggio along, he seems to be the only one in the pod able to cheer him up. And it’s a good thing Formaggio’s shrinking comes in handy cause I’m all out of tubs!”

“I’m usually a lot bigger, trust me,” Formaggio insisted.

“Bruno’s wing has healed up perfectly well,” diagnosed Giorno, as he examined Bruno on his table. “He should be good to try out flying by tomorrow morning, he’ll need a day or two to get used to flying again. I’ll come with him, in case he needs any help.”

“And I’ll come too,” Trish added, who had been perched on a rafter on the roof of the hut, polishing her bow. “Bruno is still a target, if he comes out into the open we might need to defend him.” Risotto nodded in agreement. “Count me in.”

The wooden door opened with a creak as Fugo walked into the hut. “We’re all clear for today,” he announced, much to the relief of everyone present. “The weather’s getting colder too, the wind is quite chilly out there." 

"Wait, it’s the third full moon of fall, isn’t it?” Formaggio said excitedly. He climbed out of his cup, flopped his way across the table and jumped onto Ghiaccio with a flick of his tail, landing softly onto his fluffy blue head. “You hear that, ice boy? It’s gonna be winter in a few weeks time!”

“And I can’t wait any longer, dammit!” Ghiaccio replied gleefully with a laugh. It came as a surprise to everyone, harpy and merman alike: they’d never seen Ghiaccio this jolly unless his little companion was around.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go check on our…inmate,” Fugo replied, as he turned to leave and soared off.

He alighted next to a thick tree in the woods, where Narancia and Mista were standing next to a bamboo cage suspended from a tree, inside which Zucchero grumbled angrily, munching on an apple.

“So, my trusty wardens, any progress?” he asked the two.

“Nope, nada, it’s been days, and nothing,” Mista whined. “We tried being mean to him, we tried threatening him, we tried being nice to him and giving him food…”

“Too nice, actually,” Narancia complained. “He said he’d talk if we kept feeding him apples but now I think it was just a trick for free food.”

“You’re all hospitable fellows,” sneered Zucchero from within the cage.

“Well, surely you couldn’t have gotten some info from him at least? Anything, something useless, even?” Fugo complained, frustrated.

“Well, he did talk, a little,” Mista admitted, rustling his wings. “He said that the Luca guy always cries salty tears, that the Crimson King’s underboss once ate a frog, that he thinks our singing voices are dreadful and our dancing skills are shit…” Mista angrily knocked the cage, causing Zucchero to squeal in surprise. “Ok, so he talked a lot. But never what we wanted to know. As you said, all useless.”

“You said he hates your singing and dancing, huh….?” A sinister smirk crept across Fugo’s face. “I think that’s useful enough information…”

The sun began to rise the following morning, heralding the dawn of a new day. But instead of the silent tranquility of the early dawn, a different noise filled the air. Terrible singing and cries of despair.

“Stop it! STOP IT, I SAID!” Zucchero pleaded desperately, rattling the bars of his cage while trying to block out the noise with his wings pressed against his head.

“….OooooOoooh, we’re golden wind~” warbled Narancia in terrible off-key, while Fugo and Mista pranced about on a lower branch, flaring their wings and striking absurd poses like some bizarre avian courtship ritual. “You still not gonna talk, sugar boy? We can keep this up all day!”

“For the last time,” Fugo snapped, “Where are the Crimson King and his minions now, and why were you here?”

At this point, after a full night of torment, Zucchero’s will was beyond broken. “ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! THEY’RE NESTING IN THE STONE PILLARS BY THE NORTHERN COAST AND HE SENT US TO CAPTURE GIOVANNA AND BUCCIARATI SO HE CAN KILL THEM! NOW PLEASE, PLEASE JUST STOP!!” He cried desperately, peeping miserably like a frightened baby bird.

“Well, what do you know?” Mista cackled. “Music does soothe the most savage beasts…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So he's planning to kidnap and kill Bucciarati and Giorno? That's not good..." Fugo hums and frowns. "And kill them! Dont forget that Fugo!" Narancia squawks.

"I know Nara, we'll have to tell the others. Atleast we'll know the targets" Fugo goes to fly back but Mista stops him, "heyyy! What the hell do we do with sugar boy over here!?"

"do what ever you want with him. I don't care" he flies off. Mista starts chuckling and turns back to the bird, "you hear that?" "We can do whatever we want with you!" Nara laughs and the two approach the harpy. Zucchero gulps and flinches, "b-but I gave you what you wanted! Please! D-don't hurt me!" The laughs and chuckles grow as they close in on the sugar bird. Uh-oh, better wish him some luck because he's gonna need it.

[stoopsbookstore]

The Fan (Chapter 2)

Warnings - Mentions of groping, accident at a performance

“Do you know what happened to your fansite, Y/N?”

Aya looked at her group member, scrolling through Instagram to see Milton's post, showing the phone screen to Y/N.

"Wow, he seems pissed," Y/N read the post, feeling uncertain about the post, "I mean, I guess it's sweet he cares enough to get mad over people trying to get upskirt shots."

"And he hasn't tried to grope her yet," Sanghee jumped over the sofa to sit next to Y/N, throwing her arm around her, "and if he does, I'm sure security will ban him like that guy who tried to go through our dressing room and sniff our underwear."

"Not funny," Y/N threw a pillow at the laughing Sanghee, hitting her face, "Yunhee was terrified, the poor thing wanted to escorted everywhere."

"She's our maknae, of cours-"

"To be fair, a 15 year old should be able to handle going to the bathroom without having a security guard stand outside the stall," Aya corrected Sanghee.

"Let's focus on something good. The previews of the photos are amazing! Look!" Chinsun hooked up her laptop to the TV, gleefully sorting through the photos, "Firethorn is amazing! Look at the angle on this one."

"Is he one of the guys from that ATEEZ studio Milton mentioned?" Chinsun opened a bag of chips, crunching them one after anothet, "isn't there a bunch of them?"

"However many there is, they take amazing photos," Y/N clicked the mouse, seeing all of the members throughout the year they've been together.

The group was broken out of their trance, their manager had entered the dorm's living room.

"We have to go, girls! 2 hours until showtime!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Why am I being dragged along?"

Hongjoong was being pulled by Yunho and Wooyoung, the pair hurrying through the crowd.

"Because we need someone to hold our shit!" Yunho gave his camera bag to the older boy, looking through his camera, taking test shots of the arena, "I would've asked Seonghwa, but he's still upset about his camera."

"I would be too if some sleazeball pushed someone into me," Wooyoung snapped a picture of the crew setting up the stage.

"Well, I need to go take a piss, take your shit," Hongjoong handed Yunho back his luggage, handing to the bathroom before the performance started.

"He's going to miss the performance, he's not going to be able to get a good seat!" Yunho freaked out, waving his camera wildly and accidentally hitting a little fanboy who had been holding a sign for Yunhee, "oh shit, my bad, little dude. Here, you can have my lightstick."

The little boy stopped sobbing, snatching the Blossom Bong out of his hand, walking away from the tall boy, pouting for his father. The lights had changed to the group's signature colors, a dark green and a light mint, representing the stem of a flower. Erupting from the audience, the cheers drowned out the sound of whacks on metal.

Yunho's phone started buzzing, a text from Hongjoong appearing.

Dude, I can't get back in. They said once you're out, you're out.

Wtf thats bull shit! Its fine, the mall is just 2 blocks away, I'll go there, get some food, how long is the concert?

"Pick your petals! Hi, we are Bloom!"

Only about 90 minutes

ok, do you guys want anything?

Yeah, just get us some pizza. Ill text you when it's over. Sorry bro.

Its okay, Im not big on them anyway. And we'll have plently of more chances to see them.

Ok

After a few songs, the girls stood on stage to talk to the audience, a formality of their concerts.

"Petals, we are so proud of you," Chinsun had someone's camera, taking a selfie with Yunhee who was talking to the crowd, "because of you, we are able to stand on stage and dance, rap and sing, we're allowed to live our dream."

"Yunhee, you softie," Y/N was on the other end of the stage, holding a stuffed animal that someone had thrown on stage, "We may not have had a first win, we may not have a number one album, but we're with you guys and that's all that matters!"

"But I'm expecting a win for our comeba-"

Sanghee and Yunhee ran to Y/N, covering her mouth and dragging her to the floor.

"Just ignore her, she has a big mouth," Aya pointed her microphone at Y/N, the trio laughing on the stage floor, "she's always talking about crazy stuff. A comeback? Next month? That's insane!"

"But," the audience held their breath, Yunho and Wooyoung's camera clicking photos, a smug grin adorning Chinsun's face, "do you want a preview?"

The crowd roared into a thunderous applause, the girls gathering at center stage, waiting for Aya to come to them.

When Aya was about to step on the platform, it had collapsed, causing her to fall six feet onto her ankle.

"Fuck!" She had screamed in pain, the other members being held back by security as backstage crew helped Aya to her feet, her ankle throbbing in intense pain, "my leg! My fucking leg!"

"Holy shit!"

Wooyoung and Yunho saw the incident, Aya just a few feet front of them. She held her ankle when a security guard came, picking her up and bringing her offstage. The rest of the members were in a circle, talking to each other when their managers walked up, pulling them off stage. An announcement came up, the audience groaning and booing at what the voice had to say.

"Due to unforeseen circumstances, we have to cancel the rest of the concert. Check your email for any information about refunds, exchanges or other opportunities. We apologize for the inconvenience."

Yunho's phone vibrated, Wooyoung snapping a few photos of the downed platform.

"Dude," Yunho looked at Wooyoung with a disappointed look, the younger male lowering his camera in shame, "it's Hongjoong. Come on, let's go."

What happened?! Im in the lobby and heard a crash!

Aya got hurt! The stage fell

how did the stage fall?

I dont know. Theyre kicking everyone out and Bloom was pretty much ripped off stage. Its fucking bullshit, but I hope Aya's okay.

How is everyone else? Hows Yunhee hows Y/N?

Theyre fine from what we saw, a bit shaking. Where are you in the lobby?

Near the dipping dots

"Do you think that Milton guy will have something to say?"

"I don't think I even saw him there," Wooyoung mentioned the apparent absence of the fansite master, "I wonder if he had to do something with it."

Yunho scoffed at the theory, spotting Hongjoong in the disgruntled crowd, passing by the little boy, who was now full on pouring out tears.

"He may be crazy, but I don't think he would be that crazy."

"Who?" Hongjoong sipped his soda, Wooyoung taking his drink while the trio watched the people leave the arena, "that White Jasmine guy?"

"Yeah, he wasn't there," Yunho checked his phone, "no post either."

Hongjoong, Yunho and Wooyoung begun to hid out to the car, the cloud hanging out the parking lot dark and gloomy as the cries of little boys and girls could be heard for miles. Yunho started the car, Wooyoung getting in the back while Hongjoong turned on the radio, the car filling with one of Bloom's b-sides.

"Not now," Wooyoung reached between the front seats, switching it to classic music.

The rest of the ride spent in tense disappointment.

[mssjynx]

MiniCat NSFW and 16????

alpha / beta / omega au

minicat drabble

16. We’ve been best friends forever but I moved away for two years. Now we’re tipsy at my welcome back party and we’ve been dancing really close. If you keep looking at my lips I won’t be able to hold back much longer.

warning: slight nsfw

a/n; some of these are ending up only partially nsfw i hope thats okay! i dont have the energy to write full smut each time ^.^;

At four years old they found themselves in a sandbox with one another. Their older siblings dated all throughout primary school and it seemed they couldn’t spend a single day without one another.

Going into high school, Craig cried until his mother enrolled him in the same school as his best friend. In year nine they both got girlfriends, both fresh young betas. After three months, Tyler wasn’t dating again and after six months, Craig had traded in his girlfriend for a boyfriend instead; an alpha.

In year twelve they ended their year with no relationships and started planning a trip to Europe together in the following year.

That trip never happened. Craig got a scholarship offer in Europe. To refuse it would be ridiculous so he had to say his goodbyes and book a plane ticket.

Two years later, he was on a flight home.

He was tired; exhausted, by the time he was dragging his feet up the path to his family home. The lights were out despite the cars in the driveway and it was only barely six p.m.. The spare key was where it always was.

Door open. Lights on. A wave of mixed familiar scents. Then people jumped out from behind ever corner and piece of furniture, shouting unintelligible words with huge smiles on their faces. His mother reached him first as someone hit play on the radio, party poppers going off light fireworks in the room. Arms thrown around his shoulders with a squeal of glee.

“You’re home!” His mother’s cry deafened his right ear as he scooped her up in a hug. “Oh my Gosh, I’ve missed you!”

He laughed, swinging her around with a grin. “I missed you too, Ma!”

Then the party began.

There were at least forty people in the house, all crammed together sharing loud music and copious amounts of booze. Craig’s mother dipped out quickly, knowing that by the looks of it, there would be no peaceful sleeping for the sober. This many alphas, betas and omegas all in the same place was like a breeding ground and there no doubt would be several rooms occupied by the end of the night.

Craig was engulfed in hugs; friends and friends of friends, pressing drinks into his hand and convincing him to down far more alcohol than he should have. Within two hours he was crammed in the living room, dancing and swaying with friends he hadn’t spoken to in forever.

The first time he ran into Tyler, the world was already spinning. “Holy shit you’ve grown!” he’d gasped as he fell right against the man. Taller. Broad shoulders. Muscles and facial hair. His scent was even more intoxicating. He smiled goofily up at his best friend who wore confliction across his face. “I’ve missed youuu,” he cooed, ignoring the two Irish idiots snickering on the side.

“You haven’t texted in a year.” Blunt response. A voice Craig had missed for two whole years and he managed to block out the scent of distrust.

“I got- I got so busy,” he slurred, giggling to himself at how ridiculous his voice sounded while so drunk. He pressed in closer to his best friend, cheek to his shoulder as he beamed up at the man who he’d known since he was only a boy. “And you got a girlfriend!” he accused, jabbing a finger to his chest and laughing at the shocked look in Tyler’s eyes. “Got all… jealous th’t she had all your tiiiime. What was she? Omega?”

“We broke up a few months ago.” Tyler’s voice sounded so far away as Craig tugged on his hands, leading him to the crowd of drunken dancers.

“Oh good!” In the back of his mind, he told himself that perhaps he sounded a little too cheerful about that fact. “Dance, dance, dance,” he sung, swinging himself back and forth as Tyler followed, hands in his.

“You’re hammered,” Tyler told him, slinging an arm around his back to stop the floor from rushing up to meet him. Craig only laughed, throwing his own arms around Tyler’s shoulders and hugging him close. “Absolutely smashed,” he muttered and Craig didn’t let the older man look away.

Despite seeing four eyes instead of two it didn’t change how bright and blue they were. How bright and blue they always had been. They flickered with joy, rolling with a kind of affection and care that no one else noticed in the hardened lines of Tyler’s face. Craig noticed. Craig always noticed.

“When you smile like that I wanna kiss you!” The words rolled out of his mouth without him even realising it and he found himself spinning in an awkward circle in search for who would have spoken the words. When his eyes returned to Tyler there was a different look in his eyes.

One of surprise, disbelief, a smidgen of concern and fear and perhaps something that the intoxication didn’t let him read to clearly.

Then the hands in his were pulling and Craig was helplessly following his best friend out of the room and into the empty hallway. “You want to kiss me?” Tyler asked, voice still but unreadable.

Craig giggled, nodding as he asked: “Did I say that?” At Tyler’s unimpressed look he tripped forward and found himself pressing Tyler to the wall. “Every time I kissed Charlie I pretended I was kissin’ you!” he exclaimed, childish glee swelling in his chest at the smile that lifted Tyler’s lips.

“You sure it ain’t the alcohol talking?”

“The alcohol isn’t making me hard,” he uttered, cheek falling to Tyler’s chest again as he giggled up at the man. The red blush that prickled his face and shoulders was a beautiful look on the man and he settled his hands over Tyler’s.

“You’re crazy.” The laugh was a breathless one and Craig couldn’t not fall a little bit more in love.

“Crazy for youu,” he cooed, giggling as he squeezed the hands under his. “D’you remember where my bedroom is?” he asked, seeking out those beautiful eyes once more.

Tyler didn’t wait any longer, “Do you?” winding his fingers through the drunken Brit’s and leading him down the hall. “C’mon, focus on climbing the steps for me.”

“I’ll focus on- on climbing you.” Craig giggled as he went, stumbling on every second step and pushing Tyler through his door. He attempted a sexy climb but stumbled, falling on his back on the mattress instead and cackling up at the man who shook his head above him. “C’mere!” he exclaimed.

“I think you’re far too drunk to make any smart decisions right now,” Tyler chuckled, taking a seat beside the hysterical beta who was rolling around on his own bed for the first time in two years.

Craig’s smile was broad, pushing awkwardly up to sit. “Not too drunk for a kiss!”

Tyler shook his head. “You sure it ain’t the alcohol talking?” he asked, not shrugging off the hand that Craig trailed up his bicep. He tilted his head, smiling sweetly as he dropped his eyes to the little smile on Tyler’s lips.

“Kiss me, please?” he asked, nibbling on his bottom lip.

Tyler shook his head, a laugh following the roll of his eyes before he leaned into the hand pressed to his cheek. “If it’ll make you shut up,” he joked, before finally dropping to press his smiling lips to the grin on Craig’s face.

Almost instantly, Craig’s hands were gripping his shoulders like if he let go, he’d lose everything in the moment between them. He hooked an ankle around Tyler’s thigh, pulling him close as he leaned back into the mattress. He keened as Tyler followed, mouth fit against Craig’s like it was his only source of oxygen and his hand on Craig’s cheek made him even dizzier than the alcohol.

The mattress shifted, weight pressing in over Craig and he spread his legs to make room for Tyler’s body atop his. Hands on his those broad shoulders slid up the side of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging as he slid his foot ankle up the backside of Tyler’s leg. “Tyler,” he gasped as their mouths parted for a half-hearted inhale and he giggled as kisses trailed across his cheeks and jaw.

He managed to get both legs hooked over Tyler’s hips, pulling him closer to settle deep between his thighs. With a needy rock of the hips, he was sparking in his gut and feeling Tyler’s low hum against the column of his neck.

“You’re so drunk,” Tyler laughed, the words mouthed against Craig’s jaw as he pulled Tyler’s bottom lip between his teeth, bucking his hips up and moaning breathily against Tyler’s tongue. “God, fuck me,” he sighed, sealing their mouths together and grinding his hips down hard and heavy.

Craig giggled, dropping hands to fumble at Tyler’s crotch. One hand cupping his arousal which he gleefully found hardening beneath that denim. “I was actually- actually thinking about doin’ this the other way ‘round,” he giggled, too lazy to even pull away from Tyler’s mouth to speak. “You can knot me if you’re good enough.”

Tyler snorted, pulling away to laugh. “No way, not while you’re this drunk,” he told the man, not stopping as Craig yanked off his shirt. “I’ll knot you if you still want me to when you’re sober,” he promised, mouthing down Craig’s throat.

Craig grinned, running his hands over the packed muscles of Tyler’s chest. “I’ve dreamt about you knottin’ me for years,” he purred, catching the way the alpha’s breath hitched against his collarbone.

“Sober,” he promised, Craig laughing at the growl edging his voice. “Now get your pants off so I can mark up your thighs,” he commanded and Craig laughed, biting back an eager whine.

He didn’t make his alpha wait any longer, gasping and moaning as hands spread along the underside of his thighs as Tyler buried his head between the beta’s legs. “Fuck,” he gasped, head rolling back. He was in for a great welcome home party.

[thenovelartist]

Debts on the Battlefield

This is the last prize for my TV Show contest going to @serenepy who wanted Adrienette and Mistaken Identity. After a few tries, I came up with this. I hope you enjoy it!

It all started when her parents were assassinated.

The neighboring country’s king swore they didn’t commit the crime. However, the evidence disproved his claim, and Marinette watched her father’s second-in-command declare war on the other country.

To say she wasn’t terrified of the thought of murder and bloodshed and war coming up to her kingdom would be an outright lie. This was her kingdom. If she were the heir, she would have gone on to negotiate with the neighboring king and try to uncover the truth. Unfortunately, even as the only child born to Queen Sabine, Marinette was not the true heir because she was a female, and the line passed down solely to sons.

So, she did the only thing she saw fit to do: join the military. She had been mocked at first, but when one of the commanders who had advanced high up the ranks spotted her, he enabled her to join.

“I remember you, your royal highness,” he commented with a smile. “You’re a crafty sort of girl. You were always able to slip around the house without anyone knowing. They called you Little Lucky Ladybug for good reason.”

And that was how she got her nickname. It wasn’t for two months that everyone fighting for her kingdom knew the spy that went by ‘Ladybug’. She was a valuable asset to the war.

Then came the dreaded day that she found herself caught up in a battle. It was in one of her kingdom’s towns, one that lay on the outskirts. Most of the town had evacuated, but for some, they had no where else to go but wait out the fight.

Marinette was forced to do the same.

She found refuge in a house close enough for her to see the fighting. Despite the queasiness in her stomach, she watched the battle. She watched as things exploded and guns went off and smoke billowed upward from the streets of the town. People were screaming; people were dying.

It was with a heavy heart Marinette watched the opposing forces win.

As the smoke cleared, it allowed her to see her army fall back, grabbing all the supplies they could and running in the cover the smoke provided. Those men would live to fight another day, and for that she was thankful. But when the smoke cleared completely, it allowed her to see the carnage in the streets, proving to her that there were many men who wouldn’t make it back home. Furthermore, this town that had once been hers was no longer.

She made it a habit to hold back her tears, but for today, she allowed herself to cry.

It was only once she was able to forcefully swallow the tears did she realize the front door of the house burst open. Her heart was pounding inside her chest as she froze instinctually.

Get up! She mentally chided. Move!

But it was too late. By the time she found the strength to stand, soldiers burst into the second story room, guns pointed at her.

Her only option was to hold up her hands in surrender.

…

He shouldn’t be here. If his father knew he was here, he’d have an absolute fit and likely punish Adrien as though he was a teenager instead of a man nearly twenty-one. But if his father was going to willingly go to war like this against Adrien’s adamant council, then defying his father it was.

Adrien roamed the streets of the town his kingdom had just taken over. He didn’t wear the uniform of a soldier, instead wearing plain clothes to blend into the surroundings. He wasn’t completely insane, after all. He was a hidden soldier, one that made shots from the rooftops and scoped out the best way to win against the enemy.

The moment a woman’s scream reached his ears, he instinctively looked up. Soldiers from his own kingdom were man-handling a woman, throwing her to the ground outside a house. They were yelling something, but at that point, Adrien didn’t care. The men had orders to not harm women and children. Even in this time of war, Adrien would ensure to uphold their honor.

Before one of the soldiers could strike the female, Adrien grabbed him, forcing him off his feet and disarming him. “What do you think you’re doing?” Adrien challenged.

Adrien felt the two other men point their guns at him while the man on the ground looked blankly up at him. With a scowl, Adrien threw the gun back at the man.

Adrien scowled. “Where is your honor, soldier? You don’t touch civilians, no matter which side they belong to.”

With that, he turned to offer a hand to the woman on the ground. Her wide-eyed gaze was mixed fear and intrigue. Adrien shot her a smile he hoped was charming before reaching his hand out to offer assistance. “I apologize on their behalf.”

She remained silent as she hesitantly took his hand and allowed him to assist her in standing.

She had beautiful blue eyes and hair like a raven’s feathers. Young, youthful face. A stunning beauty. He grinned, earnestly this time. “Was this your home?”

“No,” she admitted. “I was passing through and hid before I got caught in the crossfires.”

Poor girl. Yet, her voice held a stubborn courage underneath her fear. “May I then suggest running away from the fighting so as not to get caught again.”

“Understood,” she said, pulling her hand from his. “And thank you.”

With that, the girl spun around and scampered off.

Adrien watched her for a moment before turning back to glare at his men. “Listen carefully,” he warned, tugging out his pocket watch engraved with the kingdom crest. The men instantly stiffened and straightened. “Do not harass the enemy’s civilians. They already think lowly of us. Don’t give them any more reason to hate us.”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

…

It had been a month since Marinette had been saved from her certain entrapment by an extremely handsome young man. At the time, she had been carrying enough notes on her to have her captured as a hostage. She swore that if she ever got the opportunity to repay her debt to him, she’d do it in a heartbeat. Never once did she worry about forgetting his face. She would never forget those kind, green eyes or that mess of blonde hair on his head or that genuine smile.

It was after a battle that she saw him again.

He was in a town among the bodies of many people, both soldiers and civilians.

She would have to make up time later, but for now, she helped him off the ground, propped him upright against a building, then scavenged the area for anything she could find to wrap his head wound.

There was bullet-riddled laundry hanging about that would have to do.

“Well, we meet again,” he said, his smile lopsided and eyes halfway opened as he watched her rip apart the fabric into bandages.

Her heart skipped a beat. He remembered her? “It seems so,” she said with a grin.

He hummed, then remained silent as she wrapped his wound.

“Thank you,” he said once she finished tying off the strips. “I find myself deeply in your debt.”

She blushed lightly. “No. You saved me from those soldiers. This is me repaying my debt to you.”

His smile turned roguish, which only made him more handsome. “I don’t agree. You’ve exceeded paying off what little debt you were in.”

Even though she’d have to scold herself later for being caught up here, letting her heart run wild for a moment, she shot him another grin while shaking her head. “Not by my thoughts.”

“Well, then,” he said, and she knew by that gleam in his eye that she was in trouble. “I’ll just hope that I get once last chance to free myself of this debt you have placed on me, whether you agree or not.”

She should get out of here before she gave into the will to continue flirting with a man she didn’t know the name of. That was already scandalous of her, but it was particularly offensive in the middle of a war. She forced herself to stand. “Then I hope that our next meeting will be under more pleasurable circumstances.”

The smile he gave her as she ran off would come back to haunt her for weeks.

…

He counted himself lucky beyond belief. He was supposed to be marching around the town, trying to scope out the battlefield. In his down-dressed state, he was able to walk straight past soldiers without any issue. He had to hold back his smug grin.

And that’s when he saw her.

Gleefully grinning, Adrien slipped around the crowds of people so he could be in front of her path. “Why, would you look at that?”

He startled her, and it hurt his heart to see the sudden fear of her realizing her path was blocked. The way she looked up at him, with wide-eyes full of fear and stance prepped to run, it was clear she was skittish. If it was from war, then he could do nothing but feel guilty. But if it was from his men attacking her, then he’d swear vengeance.

However, she relaxed, her hand over her chest probably to calm her racing heart. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Forgive me,” he said earnestly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No. I’m just not used to being approached.”

He grinned. “Are you unused to men calling for your attention? I don’t believe that. A lovely girl such as yourself? You must have had many a man dropping at your feet before the war.”

Where those words came from, he didn’t know, but the blush on her cheeks as well as the skeptical smile was invaluable. “Careful, you sliver-tongued devil.”

He chuckled. “Forgive me. I can’t help myself. Nor can I stop myself from asking this question that has been on my mind since the day we meet.”

Her smile fell and brow knit in worry. He forced his smile to stay on his face even though he hated causing her guard to come rising up again like this. “Oh?”

“May I be so bold as to ask your name?”

Slowly, her shoulders relaxed and her smile returned. “Marinette.”

He tested the word on his tongue and very much liked the way it felt. “Well then, Marinette.” He reached for her hand to bestow a kiss on her knuckles. “What a pleasure meeting you officially.”

With a giggle, she tugged her hand away. “We have not met officially,” she teasingly scolded. “For I don’t know your name.”

Heat rose to his cheeks surprisingly quickly. “Ah, yes. What an idiot I am. My name is Adrien.”

Before she could respond, the clock chimed the hour, and he realized he needed to get back.

“Forgive me,” he said, bowing before her. “But I actually have somewhere I have to be.”

“As do I,” she said, taking a step back. “But it was such a pleasure to meet you.”

“And you, Marinette. I do hope to see you again.”

She gave him a smile before scurrying off into town. As he was leaving, he sent up a prayer that she would be getting out of town as quickly as she could. He didn’t want his Marinette caught in the cross-fires.

…

Her kingdom was losing the battle. They were up against an equally skilled army. The issue was they were much larger than their own.

That, and they had Chat Noir.

Marinette had been transporting a warning to all the squadrons all over her kingdom informing them about the man once caught in black leather taking shots from a high ground. It was as though he knew the terrain, knew the field, knew how their armed forces would be organized.

And that meant they were in deep trouble.

Marinette found herself caught in the cross-fires once again. She had been delivering messages about this Chat Noir figure to the troops stationed here, only for the opposing army to spring an attack on them.

Not wanting to be caught anywhere near the general’s house, Marinette scampered for another cover spot. Maybe, if she was lucky, she’d be able to get out of the town completely. There were many people unprepared for the attack here, all running around frantically while trying to escape the city. In the commotion, she slipped down an alley way, only to run into a figure in a black leather vest.

She looked up, only to come face to face with Adrien.

His eyes widened upon seeing her. “What are you still doing here? Get out of the town.”

“I could ask the same for you,” she countered, holding tightly to the hand he grabbed as he pulled her along out of the city.

“Wrong place, wrong time,” was all the answer he gave.

“You and me both.”

They escaped the alley, only to skid to a halt upon seeing several of the opposing army’s men standing there, guns in hand.

One spotted them and raised to fire.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Adrien shoved her back into the alley just as the shot rang out. Marinette squeaked at the sound, sadly accustomed to it but not of it being so close.

“Run!”

So she did. As fast as she could, her hand in his, she ran, weaving through the town buildings with ease. But just as she turned the corner, she slid to a stop upon seeing even more soldiers. She ducked into the closest open building, dragging Adrien in behind her. He quickly shut the door, just as the soldiers started shouting and gunfire went off.

“Upsta—” She never finished that word and instead gasped at the sight of blood staining his shirt.

He looked at her, then down at his shoulder. His brow furrowed as he tugged at the cloth. “They got me.”

“We have to get the bullet out,” Marinette said.

He frowned at her. “And you know how to do that?”

She would love to say that she could confidently, that she personally did it before when she spent the first month of the war helping at a hospital while other nurses were being assembled. “I’ve assisted in the procedure and seen it done many times.”

His brow furrowed, questions clear on his face. But he didn’t voice them. “What do you need?”

…

Adrien was not looking forward to this. Once before, did he have to get a bullet taken out of his leg, but that was the extent of his major injuries. He could have waited for the battle to be over and his own army’s medical staff patch him up, however he knew they would be busy as is. And as Marinette listed off the things she needed, marching around the surprisingly full house with a determined expression, his confidence in her grew.  

Once they collected everything they needed, Marinette instructed Adrien to lay down on the bed upstairs. He stripped out of his vest and shirt before he did. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a slight dusting of pink on her cheeks. He didn’t know what to think of it, but he wanted to be flattered by it.

For the next several minutes, he was biting down on a rag while she dug the lead bullet from his shoulder and sewed up the wound. It was about as painful as he remembered it being.

However, the biggest pain of all was being shot by one of his own men. He supposed that was the price for trying to protect a civilian.

“Thank you,” he said once she was bandaging him up yet again.

“You have to stop getting injured when I’m around,” she said. He got the pleasure of learning her eyes sparkled when she teased.

“I’d love to,” he said. “Unfortunately, I don’t think that’s going to happen for the foreseeable future.”

She shook her head, but the smile she wore was one of amusement.

“I can’t help but notice,” he began, unable to help himself, “that I seem to cross paths with you in the middle of these battles.”

Her expression fell as her eyes locked on his.

“I…” she began, struggling with her words. “I have family and friends everywhere,” she eventually said. “But I’m as shocked as you are that you’re in these battles constantly.”

He forced a grin when he really wanted to cringe. “I… I’m documenting the battles,” he answered, thinking that it was a halfway decent excuse.

“Oh,” was all Marinette said as she tied off his bandages.

He had to think of something quick to change the subject. “Sorry for asking,” he said. “It just seemed odd that such a lovely young woman like yourself happened to be in the middle of battles. Not that I don’t love running into you; I would just prefer them being under much better circumstances.”

A lovely rosy hue spread across her cheeks, and he couldn’t help but feel warm knowing he caused that lovely look on her. Slowly, she ducked her head, a smile on her face. “Flatterer.”

He grinned. “Hardly.” The scary thing was that he meant it. Here he was, Prince of the Papillion kingdom, flirting with a commoner girl of the opposing kingdom. She was beautiful; that he wasn’t lying about. And kind. And had a lovely smile.

She snorted, turning away.

Despite knowing he should be out there, it seemed he was trapped here until the battle was over. His own fault for wanting to clear out the civilians. He told the general not to pull such a barbaric move, attacking a full town, but even though he was the prince, the generals swore they knew better. Today, they would have to serve without their eyes in the sky. It seemed fair to Adrien. At least, that was what he told himself so he would feel less guilty in the pleasure he took being trapped here with Marinette.

…

She was terrified. And that was an understatement. She’d been caught by the opposing army. She listened to the creak of the enclosed cart, the lock and chains on the outside making plenty of noise with every step the horses took. There were a couple army officials in the cart with her, all ones she’d been meeting with before the camp was raided.

What they were going to do, she didn’t know. So to keep the thoughts at bay, she thought of her kingdom. And when that got too hard, she thought of Adrien and his smile as he told her to stay safe as they last parted ways.

“I’ll find you again once the war is over,” he’d said with a wink. “Mark my words on that.”

With a sigh, Marinette forced everything out of her head. Apparently, even dashingly handsome, green-eyed blondes made her heart hurt too much.

…

“Father, we took the kingdom.”

Even though Adrien grinned for his father, he did not feel happy about it. He could only think of the civilians caught in the crossfires, of the towns he’d assisted evacuating when the fighting happened. His thoughts wondered to a certain Marinette and her bright smile, appearing in the battlefields. She wasn’t the only young woman running for her life from the war—there had to be people younger and far older than her running for their lives­—but she was the only one that came to the forefront of his mind.

“Good,” was all his father said. “I hope this serves as a lesson to anyone else who dares to accuse us falsely.”

Adrien’s stomach dropped. He didn’t like his father’s methods. He felt them flawed. They should have gone to the kingdom with white flags raised and assisted them in discovering who the true assassins were. That would have been far more beneficial for both of them.

“We will absorb their kingdom into ours,” his father said. “They are small, as are we. We will be a stronger power together.”

Adrien simply nodded. “What will you do with the war prisoners?”

Gabriel paused. “I suppose we will release them,” he said. “No need to make any more of an enemy with the new part of our kingdom. But document them all first so that they have records against them already. If there is an uprising they are a part of, then they will be tried.”

Adrien nodded. “Yes, father.”

“And I will have you oversee it,” his father continued. “I’ll be far too busy with other matters to oversee something so trivial.”

“Yes, father. I understand.”

…

Marinette may have hated liars, but right now, it was best to tell herself she wasn’t completely terrified that she might just die.

She, along with all the other prisoners of war, were to be documented as potential threats, meaning that if they ever made a wrong move, they’d likely be hung.

The men brought the prisoners out in several small groups. They were warned against acting out, even under the threat of the Prince of Papillion being there and able to give the order of them being hung on the spot. Marinette hoped for the sake of them all making it out alive that everyone would cooperate and the officials would be merciful.

The soldiers made their way through the rows of cells, meaning Marinette was one of the last to be taken out. And as the only woman, she was taken out alone.

She had to squint at the sudden bright daylight, and she cursed the sunshine. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but once they did, her gut sank.

Because Adrien stood there in his royal garb, proving he was the prince overseeing everything.

She watched his expression shift to one of horror. She shoved down her emotions and begged her eyes to stay dry. She had to pretend it didn’t feel like betrayal that the man she remembered fondly on the battlefield happened to be the prince of the kingdom responsible for murdering her parents.

She had been the Princess of Coccinelle; she would stand with her head high, chin raised, back straight. She would not cower.

“State your name,” the recorder asked.

“Princess Marinette Dupain of the Coccinelle Kingdom.”

Everyone froze, particularly Adrien.

The recorder was the first to move, ready to write the name down in the book.

But Adrien’s arm shot out, covering the page before the man could touch the pen to the paper.

“Your royal highness,” Adrien addressed, bowing before her. “I would like to give my deepest apologies for the treatment you have received. Should you agree, I wish to offer you a stay here at Castle Papillion, for there are many matters I would like to discuss with you.”

Curious, she rose a brow. “What matters do we have to discuss? You are the ruler of my kingdom now, are you not? That is what this war was about.”

He looked hurt at her words. As he should be. “The first matter I wish to discuss being a long list of apologies for our transgressions against you,” Adrien began, his words still strong and steady as a prince’s should be. “The second being an offer to discover who truly is behind the deaths of your parents, for I assure you that I know of no such plan that has ever been in place in this kingdom.”

Her brow furrowed. “You say you know of no plan, yet did you not just wage war against us?”

“My father agreed to such terms, but I swear I opposed it from the start.”

“If the king himself did not listen to your council then what makes you believe he will agree with your offer to me now?”

At that, Adrien was silent.

Marinette bit back the urge to smile bitterly up at him. “Then I will decline your—”

“Your royal highness, please,” Adrien said. “Please, allow me to make amends.”

“Amends!” Marinette cried in outrage. “You take over my kingdom and now want to make amends?”

Her heart was screaming in pain as she watched Adrien struggle for words.

“Yes,” he answered. “I do. Whether my father does is not a decision I can make for him. But I want to do what I can to express my deepest regrets.”

Marinette glared at him. Even though the logical answer was no, something in her… something in her didn’t agree.

“One day,” she growled. “I will give you one day.”

Again, he bowed before her. “Thank you, your royal highness. That is grace from you I know I do not deserve.”

…

There was nothing more humiliating than having to salvage any possible relationship with a princess that had been mistaken as a war criminal.

Adrien rubbed his eyes. His father had been less than happy at the news of what Adrien had done. His father had glowered at him and said, “I will have no part in whatever you decide to do.”

Which really meant that Father was disappointed in Adrien’s choices and would make Adrien clean up his own mess with his own resources.

Adrien felt that was fair. He’d bit his tongue against voicing off against his father, knowing it would only rain more hell back down on him.

He sat in his own study awaiting Princess Marinette to arrive. He’d ordered her to be tended to, which meant a bath, a place for the night, and a change of his late mother’s clothes. Then, he’d asked for her to meet him in his study for the morning.

When she did arrive, she looked none too happy.

“Prince Adrien,” she said, her voice sharp with irritation as she curtsied before him.

“Princess Marinette,” he returned, bowing for her. He then offered her to take a seat, which she did. She sat all and proud, chin raised, eyes fiery.

If they were on better terms, he’d gladly pour compliments over her and lay a kiss on her knuckles. However, he knew that would not be accepted at the moment.

He hoped that one day they would.

“Your highness, I need to apologize­—”

“Why.”

Adrien paused. “Why?”

“Why do you feel the need to flatter me with apologies after what you did to my kingdom?”

Adrien took a breath. “Because no matter what my father did, I disagreed with him from the start.”

“Yet you were on the battlefield.”

“If he was going to start a war I could not stop, and the generals were more than happy to put in in motion, then there was nothing I could do except hope to keep the casualties to a minimum.”

Her eyes narrowed as she studied him for a moment. “Is that why we constantly crossed paths in town?” she asked. “Because you were trying to keep civilian casualties low?”

“And I scouted ahead,” he admitted. “To see the best way we could surprise people and subsequently flush them out instead of firing deadly shots.”

Again, those sharp blue eyes locked on him. He stared back, hoping that she would realize that he was telling the truth.

“I want to believe you.”

Her tone was sharp, but somehow, he believed those words. “If you don’t, I would understand completely,” he said. “You have every right to be mad at me. You have every right to not believe me. Honestly, you have every right to hate me and my kingdom and my father. I won’t fault you.”

For a moment, her eyes fell to her lap. After a moment of silence, they returned to him. “Before the war began,” she started, “your father said your kingdom did not kill my parents.”

“I have every reason to believe that is the truth,” Adrien said. “We had no reason to start war with your kingdom. As I said before, I advised my father against going to war with your kingdom. If the assassins were from our kingdom, then we would brand them as traitors and bring them to justice. As smaller kingdoms, we would have been better off forging an alliance between us. Why start a war when we could be strong together and on good terms?”

Marinette looked skeptical, but at least she wasn’t angry at him anymore. Adrien would gladly take any peace offering she would give.

“Can I have your word,” she said, “that you know nothing about the assassins. Swear to me with the same honor you showed on the battlefield to my people—to me—that you did not have any involvement with them or the plan to take over my kingdom.”

He held up a hand in oath and looked her directly in the eyes. “I swear on my life and on my honor that I had no knowledge of any sort pertaining to your parents’ assassination.”

For the longest time, she just looked at him, studying him. He didn’t dare move.

“I believe you.”

He felt relieved, but knew that that her belief was shaky. “I swear to you,” he said, “that even if I have to spend the rest of my life proving that trust to you, I will. And I will begin today.”

It was barely noticeable, but her shoulders relaxed the tiniest bit and her chin lowered slightly.

He grinned. He supposed it was a start.

…

Marinette was in her castle, back in her own room that wouldn’t be hers for much longer. How long, she wasn’t certain, but Adrien agreed to let her stay in the home she grew up in until further notice.

“Your royal highness,” a servant that approached her said. “Prince Adrien Agreste of the Papillion Kingdom has arrived and requested an audience with you.”

Her stomach dropped. “Lead me to him.”

With false courage, she went downstairs to meet him. “Prince Adrien,” she greeted. “What brings you?”

The look on his face was worrisome. His frown was strong, and his eyes held a sadness. With his head bowed, he presented her a stack of letters. “Princess Marinette,” he said. “I must beg your forgiveness. I swear I have upheld my oath that I had no hand in this, but I recently discovered that my father has.”

Her heart stopped. With shaky hands, she reached out to take the offered papers and slowly opened them to read.

“I’m sorry,” Adrien kept repeating. “I’m so sorry.”

She couldn’t read them fully. She could only skim them. Words popped off the page at her, haunting her. Somehow, she finished reading the damning papers. Her world felt like it was spinning, leaving her dizzy and disoriented. Absently, she closed the papers, looking up at him even though she felt completely lost.

“Princess Marinette, I have a proposition to make you,” he began. His voice was filled with emotion he was clearly trying to shove down. “I met you on the battlefield many a time, and if the rumors are true, then you are a skilled spy. Though, you only became one to serve your kingdom.”

Her brow furrowed.

“I know I do not know you well enough to say this, but I will state it anyway: I believe you would make a great queen for your kingdom. As its heir, you should be the rightful ruler, not my father.”

She smiled bitterly. “That is kind of you to say—”

“I’m not finished,” he said. He glanced around at the soldiers in the room before leaning closer and lowering his voice. “I am only slightly more confident in saying that my father clearly does not have the proper respect or honor it takes to lead a kingdom.”

Her eyes widened in surprise at his words.

A fire sparked in his eyes, and she knew he was about to say something dangerous. “So will you assist me,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “In overthrowing my father.”

His words stunned. She was there with her eyes wide and mouth agape in a way she would certainly be scolded for.

“And once we do,” he said. “Because I am most certain we will succeed, I will take over for my father and grant you back your kingdom, allowing you to become the ruler that your kingdom deserves.” He paused, taking a step back to give her space. “I wish to prove to you that the man you met on the battlefield was one of honor. I’m asking for a lot, I am aware, but will you partner with me on this endeavor?”

Marinette looked him over, searching his eyes and his body language and his expressions. She knew it was madness to trust him, but then again, did he have reason to trust her? Marinette could tell he was earnest in his apology and righteous in his intentions.

“I remember on the battlefield,” Adrien continued. “How, each time we ran into each other, we would find ourselves in the other’s debt. Well, I seem to find myself vastly in yours, and I hope… I hope you will trust me enough to allow me to pay it off.”

While stunned at his words, she stuck her hand out in the space between them. “Surprisingly, I do trust you. Prove to me now that you are that man I met on the battlefield.”

He smiled, then reached for her hand, bowing over it to kiss her knuckles respectfully. “Princess Marinette, I will not let you down. And maybe one day, I will prove to you the kind of man I am.”

She smiled, remembering that first time they met on the battlefield. How he’d come to save her. The irony of each of them assisting the enemy was not lost on her. But now, she knew in her heart that they were fighting for the same side. “I believe you… Partner.”

…

It was the second hardest year of Adrien’s life. Plotting to overthrow his own father… he warred with himself about how terrible of a son he was. But in the end, when he discovered more incriminating evidence about his father wanting to wage war with another kingdom, that was all Adrien needed to be certain that this plan was for the best.

Marinette was a good partner. She would make an incredible queen, her words powerful and actions meaningful. But she was also sly and crafty and clever. It was because of her that a rally of trustworthy troops were at the ready to assist in bringing Adrien’s father to justice.

“I’m doing this for you, Adrien,” his father had said when presented with the evidence.

“No, you’re not,” Adrien scowled. “This is for your own selfish gain.”

After that, Adrien offered his father two options: step down quietly and give Adrien the throne, or be assassinated on the spot.

With Marinette pointing a knife at his nick, Adrien’s father decided to go quietly. Adrien called in several court servants to serve as witnesses as the paperwork was completed.

“I don’t want to lock you in the dungeons, father,” Adrien said. “I suggest going quietly to mother’s old estate.”

Marinette was the one who sent soldiers to monitor him for months. And when they came back a few months later saying he was killed, Marinette and Adrien decided to look the other way instead of seek justice.

The next several months after King Gabriel’s resignation were spent rebuilding the kingdoms and establishing Marinette as Queen of the Coccinelle Kingdom before releasing it entirely.

“But Marinette,” Adrien began, “one thing before you return.”

She turned her blue eyes on him. He could not deny the way his heart skipped whenever she looked at him. Or how it got hard to breathe. Or words failed him.

He swallowed. “I… For the benefit of both our kingdoms, I would like to bind our kingdoms together in peace,” he said.

She smiled, and he might have had to brace himself on his desk to keep from falling over. When he was a kid, he never understood the fluttery feelings lovers got in fairytales. Now, it seemed he understood them too well. “Well,” she began. “There is a simple solution.”

It took him much too long to come to any conclusion, and when he did, it seemed like the wrong one. “A marriage union?”

Her smile confirmed it, and nearly knocked him off his feet in the process. “I do find myself in your debt, after all.”

His brow furrowed. “How so?”

Her smile shifted slightly, changing it from congratulatory to sweet. “You returned my kingdom to me.”

“I could not have accomplished that without your assistance,” he countered. “Furthermore, that is the fulfillment of my debt to you.”

She shook her head. “I disagree.”

His heart skipped and he swallowed, giving him a moment longer to find words to say. “I don’t think that you owe me nearly enough to pledge your life to me out of gratitude.”

That locked the two in an impasse.  

“Then,” Marinette began. “May I suggest that you come courting, and maybe, after a while, I’ll find myself in such a debt that I won’t be able to say no to your proposal.”

He couldn’t hold back his smile even if he wanted to. “Then my I warn you that this young king has set his sights on a lovely young queen to be his bride.”

He relished the sight of her smile as well as the light dusting of pink on her cheeks. “Your warning has been noted. Best of luck to you in your endeavors.”

[silversmith-91]

I had a dream, I woke up, I wrote this. It has mentions of bones, corpses, jellyfish, and is about the sea. I tried to tag accordingly.

.

.

They called to you.

Every night.

Every night after dark they called.

And you knew you werent supposed to, but they were your friends now. Almost family. Almost... home.

The water was chilly but you had long gotten used to it. These night swims, these nightly dives, they've been happening for months now. Ever since you arrived the water, and your friends, have called to you.

Jellyfish.

At least... you think they are jellyfish. You've never been truly sure but everything needs a name, a label to set the mind at ease. They glow almost... no not almost, they glow. Beautiful, ethereal, and always there after dark, singing to you. Calling your name, waiting for you to join them. So you do.

Some colleagues have warned you, never stray to far, never go to deep. Please... please stop going out at night, after dark when you can't see where you're going, and the water is too cold, and there is no one around to help you, and if you're lost they would never know. But... they called to you. These were your friends. Your family. You were safe

Charice.

You arent sure why that name. It could have been anyone's you supposed, a mother, a sister, maybe it was an aunt, but it was the one that came to mind after swimming with it for some time. It was a mother, it acted like a mother. It was the one you knew best and you always knew where it was. It was the largest, at least one of the largest you saw. Maybe there were bigger, brighter, more alive ones. But you'd never seen one, and maybe never would. But Charice was there. Always waiting for you, almost leading you out from the shore to wherever your adventures took.

Some nights you found yourself among shipwrecks you had never seen, old ships, coated in scum and barnacles like years of dust so fine it looked more like a drawing, an old painting, then a ship. Some that gleamed, shone like they were new, and polished, and you swore you could have watched sail away on the morning breeze into a horizon you would never see.

Some nights you found new caves, new ecosystems, new life, and fish and fauna that... no... no you're sure doesn't exist but you mark on maps in case, and maybe you'd have a discovery named after you one day. If you ever showed these maps that is. They were dear and you had trouble handing them over because what if they were real, new, and humanity messed them up, and maybe your friends would leave and you'd never see them again... maybe not right now you'd say, every morning. Maybe tomorrow but not tonight...

You find yourself almost floating, flying. It's like the night sky among the jellyfish. Every one glowing gently in the black abyss, every one a star, a galaxy, a new world. A new life. And Charice shows you them all. It brings you between, under, over. You touch each one. They all touch you, gently it seems, carefully, reverently, like they know you could easily break if they weren't careful. And they never stung, jellyfish were supposed to sting werent they? But Charice lead you through, untouched, unharmed, unstung, reminding you to breathe when needed, to go to the surface because your tank, while good and always fresh and always full and always there, didnt mean you could stay forever.

One night you were careless. You dove early, dove before they arrived, before Charice was there to guide you. You wanted to find one of the caves, it was beautiful, and lately it was in your dreams. Crystals, pale and bright and gleaming, called out to you from its depths. By the time you found it again it was dark... it was always dark but this? This blackness; a void wrapping around you, sucking you in, down was up and up was down and sideways and backwards and... you forgot there were other things that existed in the water other then your friends.

Your friend had brought you here before, many times, so why had you never noticed? Bones... so many bones... tangled up, broken, cracked, shards among the floor and newer then that... bodies and corpses, fresh, bloated but snagged in those bright and gleaming crystals and with horror you realized you were watched by something else from the void that was still trying to suck you in, down, up...

You never really knew what attacked. Something old, desperate, hungry as you stared in horror at the cave floor. Even now the memory is blurry. Too many teeth, too much skin yet gaunt... gills, and claws, and sharp death dealing daggers slashing out, gashing your clothes, your tank, and you realise in horror that you can't make it to the surface, where is the surface? Where are you?

And then your friends are there. Around you, lifting you, helping you away as they block your path, pushing you away, protecting you from the attack and the death surely coming and you take a deep breath and you're okay. You are okay. But you're cold, and you don't know where you are, and you realize that you should have listened when your colleagues told you to stop going out alone at night. In the dark. In the sea, where they can't follow.

Tendrils stroke your skin, stroke your face, and you fight the cold and the night but you're tired. So very... tired...

Your eyes close without consent; body and mind numbed by the chill and the dark and the fear that had run its course and left you alone. And you still feel those tendrils stroking, touching but it's cold and it's dark and then... nothing.

Charice dances, gently pulling your body back down to the depths. To the cave, almost gleefully arranging your silent body among the bones, settled like flowers and petals on the floor, and it waits. And waits.

And waits.

And then you're there again. Charice is still there, waiting and watching. And it sings happily, loudly, and your friends, no... your family is there, and they welcome you. And you feel tendrils touch you, cover you like a hug and you aren't scared anymore, how could you be scared? And you look back and see your body, cold, dark, pale, but it isnt you. You dont know that lifeless shell. From the outside a small, gleaming jellyfish drifts away from the endless darkness, away from it's old life, with it family, and it dances, and then..

They are all gone.

[bigskydreaming]

Not trying to be aggro today, in fact really really want to be just the opposite for a change, so put simply: From this point on, if you reblog shit that spouts off about how its only terfs and transphobes and exclusionists who don’t like the word queer and there’s really no other reason to be against it other than transphobic rhetoric, that’s an insta-block from me. No exceptions, no ifs, ands or buts, I do not give a flying fuck how long I’ve known you, it just is. I’m tired. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t have the same fucking argument over and over and over again, often with the same people, while at the same time doing MY part and regulating my OWN interactions and behaviors in order to make sure my issues with the word don’t intrude on anyone else’s positive associations with it.

I don’t give anyone shit for using the word queer, using it to describe our community, anything, EVER. The one and only thing I have EVER asked on this site or any other, REPEATEDLY, is to do me the one SINGULAR courtesy of not presuming my reasons for not embracing that word for MYSELF, for how *I* choose to describe my community. For using any of the other labels I have available for myself, or even just good old alphabet soup, instead. Because the word bringing you power and community doesn’t change the fact that the very same word only brings me pain and alienation. Nor does the fact that it brings me those feelings change what it means for you - and I have never once EVER argued that it does, or it should. I’ve simply asked, over and over and OVER, for people to respect that their experiences are not universal. Their associations with the word are not everyone’s association with the word.

Sometimes, peoples’ opposition to the community embracing a word that some of us have issues with, isn’t an indication that we have an issue with the community, or the inclusivity of the community.

Sometimes, its just an indication that....hey....you guys know you chose to embrace a word that SOME OF US HAVE ISSUES WITH, y’know???

I’m DONE trotting out my trauma to justify why I, for myself, am probably ALWAYS going to be uncomfortable with say, straight people being patted on the back for being progressive when they use the word queer for me, without asking, on the assumption that its the ‘polite and educated and INFORMED’ way to approach someone who’s openly LGBTQ+, like for me it isn’t just a reminder of the straight people gleefully using all its other associations while gay-bashing me. Like I’m not always gonna cynically wonder at the same time just how many of those oh-so-progressive and enlightened straight people are unironically using the word as a sign of their allyship now, when twenty years earlier maybe they were some of the very same ones laughingly playing ‘Smear the Queer’ and contributing to the internalized homophobia of who knows how many kids who sat out such games rather than play and spend the whole time feeling like the whole schoolyards’ literal punching bag.

I’m just done, guys. I’m tired. I’m not doing this anymore. It sucks. It fucking SUCKS feeling constantly shut out and silenced by the very members of your community who MOST pride themselves on being inclusive and obliviously declaring themselves inclusionists.

Its fucking exhausting constantly feeling like you have to rattle off a list of “I’ve never done this or that’” as a disclaimer any time you so much as speak up to respectfully ask someone to stick with calling me bisexual or referring to me as bi instead of shorthanding it to queer. I’m not denying there are people who go in other peoples’ inboxes and say ‘dont use queer, its a slur,’ but this isn’t about other people, this is about me, and what *I* have asked of MY mutuals, a fairly short list of people who I’ve been friends or at least friendly with, for years at this point.

I’m open and vocal enough that at this point, I think my actions and stated beliefs and intentions should be more than enough for people to decide based just on those whether or not I am transphobic, attempting to police my community or regulate who is allowed into it or allowed to speak, etc. If you believe any of those things of me, not sure why you’d even still be associating with me, but regardless, its one thing if any of my actions or beliefs lead someone to that conclusion. Its another fucking thing entirely for the eight simple words “I prefer not to be called queer, thanks,” to lead people to make that leap.

It really sucks having to take such a hard line with this, but nothing else works, apparently, and I’m sick and tired of having to wade through a shame spiral before reminding myself there IS nothing wrong with my personal choice not to embrace a word so many have chosen to view as the ONLY path to personal or communal empowerment as an LGBTQ+ individual, and it DOESN’T actually imply or indicate anything about me other than the fact that for me, interactions with that word are a reminder of it being used to dehumanize me on one of the worst nights of my life.

I am a survivor, yes, and I call myself such, but that doesn’t mean I see any shame in admitting that means I was a victim as well. And for me, there is absolutely nothing empowering about the idea of taking responsibility for what OTHERS chose to do to me and the aftermath of THEIR choice to deliberately victimize me. My gay-bashing left me with scars, more metaphorical than literal, but scars nonetheless. My associations with a word my community has otherwise so enthusiastically embraced, is one of them. I will not ever accept being shamed for my scars. Not by anyone, and CERTAINLY not by my own community.

“I’m here, I’m bisexual, and I will proudly beat the ever-living SHIT out of any fuck that tries to give me or ANY other member of my LGBTQ+ community grief,” is admittedly not as short and catchy as “I’m here, I’m queer, get used to it.” But that doesn’t make it any less true, and I’m fresh out of fucks for anyone who wants to so much as imply my choice to pad a few extra words and syllables into my phrasing makes me any less a member of the LGBTQ+ community. Or any less empowered than others in it.

I have alternatives to that word. If you’re going to make less of me for making the CHOICE to use those alternatives instead of that word, you’re literally saying that there actually IS no choice in whether or not someone can be ‘fully’ a member of the LGBTQ+ community without using the word queer.

And sorry not sorry, there is NOTHING empowering about that.

I’m fucking done with this so-called discourse, because it isn’t discourse for me, it isn’t easy, it hurts, and I’m tired. Tired of being left feeling hurt and silenced by my own community when I’ve put in the work to make sure I don’t overstep and impede on anyone else’s choices for themselves. Narrowing down my ‘ask’ to make it as little an ask as possible:

Please just don’t blindly reiterate, reblog or support assertions that transphobic, exclusionist rhetoric or philosophies are the ONLY reasons that LGBTQ+ individuals might have issues with the word queer.

That’s it. That is literally ALL I ask.

I’m done with everything else about this. Please don’t make me be done with you, just because I don’t like being cast as gatekeeping or isolationist or exclusive simply because using one specific word for myself brings up painful memories.

[winsister91]

Marriage Guidance

Part of the SOWINFREDSISIE Celebration!

(Yeah...remember that? We’re still slowly working through these. We are aware it has been literal months. Soz.)

Summary: @feelmyroarrr (won’t let me tag, sorry :( ) asked: Ohhh congrats both of you! How about having to pretend to be married to the Winchester but having to pretend you don’t really fancy them.

I wrote for Sam and @sofreddie wrote for Dean (link when fic is posted).

Characters: Sam x Reader, Dean, OC Dr. Wells

Warnings: Um...this fic is stupid? I wouldn’t say it’s angst and I wouldn’t say its fluff. An attempt at crack if anything. Oh, and no doubts swearing coz I’m just like that. Oh, some mild blood and violence briefly.

Wordcount: 2000~

My Masterlist!

~ Sam and forever tags are open! ~

“Wait, what?” you stopped the youngest Winchester mid sentence, “J-Just run that by me again?”

“Well…” Sam shrugged, tilting his head curiously at your sudden reaction, “It’s the easiest way in without breaking in.”

“B-but,” you stuttered desperately, hoping to god the hotness on your cheeks wasn’t evidence that they were turning pink, “Pretend I’m your wife and go see the fucking marriage counsellor?”

You gestured to the small building Dean had pulled up in front of. A perfectly innocent looking place with a professional looking business name. However there was some suspicions that the counsellor himself was Werewolf. This didn’t exactly fill you with any confidence regarding this plan.

“Yeah I wouldn’t wanna be married to Sam either,” Dean tittered, “But Sam’s got a point, it’s a clean way in.”

“Are you boys forgetting what this guy possibly is?” you blinked rapidly in horror, “We could walk in and become this guy’s meal for his lunch break.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam flashed a reassuring smile at you, “We’ll conceal some silver weapons on us, it’ll be fine.”

You sighed heavily in defeat, rubbing your temple as you felt like the only person on the planet who thought this was a ludicrous idea, “Go on then, we get in there, then what? Get our marital issues out in the open?”

“Improvise,” Sam shrugged, “They’ll probably just ask us to make an appointment. So you keep them talking to buy us time and I’ll ask if I can use the bathroom and... scope the place out. See if I can find anything that confirms this guy is the culprit.”

“Wonderful,” you whined, “Foolproof, love it.”

“Here,” Sam opened the glovebox, retrieving a small box from inside.

You recoiled, instantly recognising the box and knowing what it held. Sam opens it to reveal his mother’s wedding ring.

“You can wear this,” Sam stated nonchalantly.

You felt the blood rush from your face and you freeze on the spot. You could just see Dean’s eyes twinkling with glee in the corner of your eye. He was loving this. Many a drunken night ago, the eldest Winchester had fed you one too many tequilas and all your concealed feelings for Sam came pouring out. You could see the corners of Dean’s mouth twitching, swiftly followed by him silently mouthing the word “awkward” at you whilst you stared down at the ring Sam offered you. You’d fantasised many a scenarios of Sam asking you to be his wife, precisely none of them were like this.

“S-Sam,” you shook your head, “O-okay we’re getting a bit too serious about this now, we don’t need-”

“Just put in on,” Sam laughed, forcing his Mother’s memento onto your ring finger, “It’s all we have that’ll be convincing.”

You grimaced, staring at the beautiful golden band. This isn’t right. This isn’t right. Help. Abort. ABORT.

“C’mon let’s go,” Sam opened the car door and quickly steppd out, popping open the boot and rummaging for some silver weapons quickly. You couldn’t find the motivation to move, you were completely frozen to that seat.

Dean tittered to himself in the driver’s seat.

“Shut up,” you snapped quickly, “He can’t make me do this. I won’t. I refuse!”

“Aw, but I’m afraid he is making you do it,” Dean giggled gleefully, as Sam tapped on your window, beckoning you to get out, “Hang in there soldier.”

You shot Dean your most dangerous glare as you reluctantly threw the car door open and climbed out.

You took a pistol loaded with silver bullets from Sam and stashed it inside your jacket. Clenching your eyes, you hoped that something would come up and stop you both from doing this. Alas, with each step towards the building, you felt your heart sink lower and lower.

This is not gonna go well. It can’t possibly go well. We’re either getting eaten or I’m gonna blurt some bowl full of crazy out.

Sam held the front door open for you and you both entered, walking into a small reception area. Nothing special or out of the ordinary jumped out at you. A small sitting area, the surrounding walls painted with a safe and neutral beige. Sam dragged you up to the counter where an over-smiley blonde lady sat expectantly.

“Hi!” she cheeped in an irritating tone, “How can I help? Do you have an appointment?”

“Uh, no,” Sam smiled casually, “We were hoping to make one?”

“Well aren’t you guys just in luck,” she clapped her hands making you jump with a start, “Dr Wells has a free slot right now if you’d like?”

“Uh…” Sam stuttered slightly, briefly glancing to you. With all the power you can muster you tried to force the message ‘OH HELL NO’ telepathically back to him.

“Sure!” he laughed unconvincingly, and your heart sunk more, “No time like the present.”

“Can I take your names?”

“It’s uh...Sam and Y/N Winchester.”

Your heart skipped a beat hearing your name referred to as a Winchester, but then you remembered the situation you’re in and come crashing back to reality.

“Great!” the receptionist typed away on her little computer behind the desk, “I’ll just let the doctor know and you can go right on through.”

“Great,” you drawled sarcastically as she swiftly left through a door.

“Could you be any less convincing?” Sam whispered harshly at you, “Can you just try a little?”

“Sam!” you hissed back at him, “We’re going to see a marriage counsellor. And. We. are. NOT. Married!”

“It’s okay, we’ll just improvise, like I said,” he tried to reason with you, “I’m sure we can make up some marriage problems stuff.”

“What, like my husband is a freaking pain in the ass who doesn’t listen! You didn’t even use a fucking fake name!”

“Just go with it, please!”

“Oh I’ll go with it, you just watch me go with it.”

The receptionist suddenly popped out from behind a different door and cheerily beckons you through. Sam watched you with narrowed eyes as you barreled on ahead in front of him with heavy stomps.

“Good afternoon,” an elderly gent with white hair and a neatly trimmed goatee welcomed you in the room the receptionist lead you.

“Hi!” you beamed over-enthusiastically, prompting Sam to throw you a worried look.

The man beckoned you to sit on the couch opposite his arm chair. He smiled warmly at you both and spoke with a soft calm voice.

“I’m glad we could fit you in on short notice. What made you decide to seek marriage counselling?”

“Yeah, what was it Sammy?” you folded your arms and glared at the Winchester.

“U-uh,” he stared wide-eyed at you for a moment before turning back to the doctor, “I- W-we feel like we’ve hit a-a road block in our marriage?”

“Oh really?” you tilted your head at him, not giving Dr Wells the chance to speak, “I thought it was to do with the fact I’m constantly tidying up after you. You stay up all night on your computer. You don’t clean your damn hair outta the shower plug. You never re-fill the damn coffee machine when you’ve drank it all!”

“W-what!?” Sam looked at you mortified, the biggest ‘what the fuck’ face you’d ever seen in your life on him.

“Well that’s what we do in these things right?” you narrowed your eyes and glared into his soul, “Vent out our frustrations?”

“Right,” he narrowed his back and counter glared, “So I can tell the good doctor here about how stubborn you are? That you blast music out at stupid hours in the morning? That you randomly go out on all night drinking benders with my damn brother?”

“Oh dont worry,” you huffed, still mad at Dean for teasing you, “Your brother’s a damn jackass too.”

“O-okay…” the doctor tried to step in tentatively, “I can see we’ve got a lot to delve into here.”

“Shut up!” you and Sam shouted at the doctor in unison.

“I don’t know what you’re getting all pent up about Sam,” you shrugged very matter of factly at him, “It was your idea to come here!”

“I don’t believe this,” Sam sighed in defeat, rubbing his forehead. This wasn’t what he planned. “L-look, Doctor h-have you got a restroom I can use?”

“Sure,” he answered, leaning back in his arm chair to take a breather, “Just up the stairs on your left.”

You continued to glare at Sam as he got up and motioned to leave, he shook his head, still in total disbelief and the door clicked closed behind him.

You sighd heavily, a thick tension filling the room. All that could be heard was the obnoxiously loud ticking from a clock on the rear wall. The Doctor observed you, making you shuffle uncomfortable on the couch.

“I get the feeling you don’t want to be here,” he chuckled.

“Way to go Doc,” you growled, every fibre of your being wishing Sam would hurry the fuck up already.

“I can see there’s a current hostility sure, the key is finding where that stems from. Do you resent your husband?”

“What the hell are you talking about? No he just fucking annoys me.”

“You say he stays up all night on his computer. He says you go out drinking with his brother. Do you feel his brother pays you more attention? Are you attracted to him?”

“Dude!” you cried in horror, “Ew!”

You couldn't deny that Dean is certainly a looker, but knowing him like you did, you could never yourself with him like that in any way.

“Are you still attracted to your husband then? Do you engage in sexual interaction?”

“Ha!” you squealed comically, “Oh Doc. Oooh if only you knew. I try so hard getting him to look at me and there’s just nothing. Nothing.”

“Are you scared he’s looking elsewhere?”

“I know he’s not looking elsewhere. He doesn’t have the time too. Listen, you don’t know the full story here and you’re not likely to ever find out if I have anything to do with it.”

Dr Wells looked at you puzzled, unable to find a suitable reaction to what he was hearing.

“All you gotta know is that big lug up there,” you pointed to the ceiling knowing Sam was probably creeping around and snooping somewhere on the upper floor, “Is the fucking love of my life, and I can’t even get the damn guy to look at me.”

The door suddenly burst open and Sam stumbled through. Your eyes widened at the sight of his jacket now spattered with copious amounts of blood.

“W-werewolves,” he gasped while he panted for air.

Dr Wells jumped to his feet, his face suddenly contorting into a mangled embodiment of rage. His teeth grew long, sharp and deadly, and a menacing roar bellowed from his snarl.

You hastily fumbled in your jacket for the pistol Sam gave you previously, but there was no need. As soon as Dr. Wells lunged for you, Sam was there, stopping the creature in its tracks with a silver blade to the heart.

You froze in disgust as the Doctor’s blood sprays back on you, and his body then slumps to the floor.

“You okay?” Sam rushed to you, “He didn’t get you did he?”

“No…” you mumbled, grimacing as you looked down at your ruined shirt, “Just bits of him got on me.”

Sam sighed with relief, dropping onto the arm of the couch to rest for a moment.

You followed suit, dropping onto the sofa next to him.

“Who’s that?” you pointed to his blood spattered shirt.

“The receptionist...” he answered bluntly.

“Right,” you nodded. Well, case closed at least.

“Um…” Sam looked at you questioningly, “What was that stuff you were saying before I came in?”

“W-what?” you blurted out, hairs standing on end, “Nothing. I said nothing.”

You instantly retreated, heading straight for the exit. You needed to get back to that car and kick Dean’s ass too.

“But!” Sam jogged after you, “I could’ve sworn I heard you say-”

“You heard nothing Sammy!” you squeaked, barging out of the exit and proceeding to scream obscenities at Dean.

Sam stopped inside for a moment, sighing deeply and shaking his head.

“She definitely said...” he mumbled to himself quietly, “....I love you too Y/N.”

Tags! Forevers Posse: @sofreddie @chelsea074298 @ria132love @untitled39887 @chicagolove88 @akshi8278 @sis-tafics @younoeatcheeseyounobefat @mandilion76 @teamfreewill92 @supernaturalmagicfolk @emoryhemsworth @musicistobeheard-blog @pheonyxstorm @mrswhozeewhatsis @turnttoverr @itspronouncedsatanbitch @the--real-wombat  @xagateophobiax @samisimportant @jensen-gal @castiel11235   @waiting-to-find-myshadows  @19agbrown   @mogaruke @nyxveracity   @cole-winchester @esoltis280 @maui137 @internationalmusicteacher @meganywinchester  

Sam Lovelies: @andkatiethings

[crowsent]

Would you be willing to elaborate on the vase story?

sure why the fuck not

i was young. way young. and had a temper shorter than my height. and back then, i was even shorter than i am now. i was this waifish 4 feet thing that wore a pleated skirt and stockings with floral-print boots and had my hair up in pigtails. dainty as a prairie flower that wore an absurd pink bedazzled slap bracelet on both wrists. walked around like i was dorothy skippin down the brick road. in short. i was the furthest fucking thing from intimidating as you could get.

and back then, i was the Weird kid. we had a bitch who spoke to trees and a bastard son of a bicol politican sentenced to live in the backwoods bronies who gleefully licked stripes up down and sideways on the classroom wall. but i was the Weird Kid. because apparently being neurodivergent in my country is a death knell for children bc i got bodied. and i got bodied hard.

as in got slammed into walls “on accident” all the time, had someone write on the blackboard “i wish salt would just permanently leave” in block letters and had kids very blatantly exclude me from their games/activities/hangout-sessions. for some fucking reason, i still stayed a decent human bc while i had the full capacity to yank this bitch pricea’s dumb head into the ground and knock her frail ass unconscious i didnt.

was nice like that

anyway. because i was the Weird Kid and never fought back, resident Asshole Extrodinaire Shitface Mcgee decided to bully me hardfucking core. lets call this bastard DU.

so i was having a good fucking time by myself, running around and bothering no one bc i still liked to do physical things way back when, when DU fucking bodyslams me once or twice while i was frolicking around n bein one with nature and all that bullshit. when i decided “yeah, i need the exercise during lunch break but not when this fucker is out on the field” so i very casually jogged back.

then DU breaks a vase on me.

specifically my right knee.

huge-ass scar runnin horizontal. if you run a finger over it you can feel texture where the flesh dun heal proper. couldnt walk straight for like. two days

but i was a nice girl so i told the principal that we were horsin round and he accidentally pushed too hard and i fell on the ceramic vase and it just so happened to shatter unfortunately on my knee. was a liar back then too, but way way too nice. teachers bought it, students didnt because people saw what happened n didnt give no fucks bout me since it was the most amusin thing to happen in a while. you know. just teenager things. casually observe someone get bullied and injured and bleeding all over the ground cus its fun.

so the news of the vase thing spread around the school because the school is a private one and rumours fly like tp off shelves and i guess the constant talk about me bein a coward pushover who dont know how to fight back kinda made me snap????? like. i can put up with bullyin and physical abuse by people taller and heavier than me no problem but the moment you call me an idiot who cant swing a fist, i mcfucking lose it.

so.

injured right leg, limpin like a newborn fawn caught its leg in a trap and the DU motherfucker accosts me again in the middle of a dark hallway on the first floor between the canteen and the dining room. says “sorry you tripped onto the vase” like an ASSHOLE bc we both know i sure as fuck didnt trip and then the bitch had the nerve to say “you should look where youre goin” like it was my fault theres a tear in my fucking knee.

then he took my glasses and told me to walk back to class but be careful goin up the stairs cus i might trip and injure my other knee. then the motherfucker laughed.

and then i broke his nose and dislocated his wrist.

real nice story. feral salt fucking surfaced that day. im still nice i guess but my first response can and will be physical violence bc thats the only goddamn language that seems to work around people

gives me a real kick when people who see the scar ask me about it and then i get to watch their faces go from pity to this perfect mix of fear and concern and threatened at the same time when i tell them that i broke the motherfuckers nose, dislocated his wrist, and enjoyed doing it. i get such a good kick from the looks on their faces. aint nothin better

injury’s all healed up too.

bastard couldnt even break the vase over my knee properly. dont feel nothin on my right leg now. all he did was push “nice good christian girl” salt down and bring “feral, unhinged, will murder your family for the price of one corn chip” salt to the surface.

[placetobenation]

To celebrate the happy occasion of Natalya and Alicia Fox facing off on Mixed Match Challenge this week, I want to tell you all about Natalya and Alicia Fox.

They debuted on WWE TV within two months of each other, all the way back in 2008, and have been trucking along ever since. The true survivors of the women’s division. They’ve naturally crossed paths a number of times over the years, and let me tell you what.

This is my favorite pairing in wrestling.

Ever.

Nattie and Foxy were born to wrestle each other, in a way few people were ever born to wrestle anyone. It’s magical, it’s mystical, it’s transcendental. It defies explanation and yet makes perfect sense. Pure chemistry, on a molecular level.

No matter what they’re both doing, whether they’re faces or heels, being pushed or not, whether they’re even having good matches with anyone else, whenever Nattie and Alicia lock horns, sparks fly and the earth moves.

Honestly, if WWE hypothetically let me book any match I wanted tomorrow, order any possible combo off of the most stacked women’s roster in company history, all I would want is a 15 minute Natalya vs. Alicia Fox match. Straight into my veins. They’ve had 21 singles matches on television at this point, and all I want is more.

I’m not sure how to begin explaining why this is, but I think one significant factor is how well their wrestling styles mesh together. Natalya is the world’s greatest house show worker. She knows the basics so well and loves doing the kind of light hearted, comedy-adjacent spots that make house show matches so much fun. Put her on a live event or a C Show and she will have an absolute ball.

Alicia Fox, on the other hand, is the world’s greatest headphones worker. What I mean by that is that you need to have the sound all the way up to hear all of the crazy, hilarious stuff she says in the ring. She’s a talker. The female Mark Henry, except instead of mean trash talk, it’s just batshit insanity. So she’s also the kind of worker who comes off best watching from ringside at a live event, or with the creative freedom of a C Show. It’s no surprise that their best matches together were on Superstars.

The first few times they squared off were criminally short, but showed so much promise. I’m not sure how to explain this but even the way that they locked up with each other was great, like you could tell they really meant business with it. So there were a couple of quick teases, just to get me going for what was to come.

And then, the first time they got significant time to wrestle – on Superstars of course – they had such a monumentally great wrestling match that it blew my fucking mind, and maybe a few other organs too. Holy shit. The way that they fought and struggled over every hold, the way that everything they did physically made sense and built the match brick by brick… argh. I need some water. This is some sexy pro wrestling.

I mean, Nattie ran so damn wild on the comeback that she picked up Alicia Fox and suplexed her so violently that she ended up suplexing herself. The Sharpshooter kept getting blocked so finally Nattie found a way to apply it on the ground from underneath to prevent a counter. Double argh. From start to finish this was just such great wrestling, in the purest sense.

Next came their magnum opus. A match based entirely around Alicia Fox literally getting her wig snatched.

Girl.

You DEFINITELY need the headphones for this one. It is a match that was wrestled verbally as much as it was wrestled physically. Early on Nattie rips a part of Foxy’s weave out, and this is what the match becomes about. Nattie laughs and gloats and waves it around. Foxy flips her entire lid and goes off her head screaming all sorts of stuff:

“WHERE’S MY HAIR?!” “YOU OWE ME NEW HAIR!” “I DONT LIKE YOU!”

This match is a whole damn conversation. Fox also exacts her revenge by taking over, giving REALLY AGGRESSIVE NOOGIES in the headlock, and, oh, BITING NATTIE’S FINGERNAIL CLEAN OFF AND SPITTING IT IN HER FUCKING FACE.

This thing is WILD.

I don’t just need water after this one, I need a cigarette. This is the kind of ridiculous, hilarious, happy fun time wrestling that I would mainline into my soul if that wasn’t physically impossible on any number of levels. The perfect combination of wrasslin’ and bullshit. In other words, the C Show Special. I’ve watched this thing countless times, and I’ll keep gleefully watching it until the day that I die. In fact, my cause of death will probably be this match.

Those are the big two that definitely stand out above the rest, but seriously, all their matches are good, with the exception of those that are just too short and abrupt. But even those ones are still the best 45 second or 60 second matches you’ll ever see. Even the rematch from The Wig Incident, for example, clocked in at just 2:43, but included Nattie pulling Foxy’s belt off, a slap battle and a sick finish, and I motherfucking DARE YOU to find a better sub three minute match.

They had the first ever women’s match on the short-lived but delightful Saturday Morning Slam, and that was their most light hearted, goofy, PG romp. Then there’s one they had during Alicia Fox’s crazy run in 2014 (more on THAT later, believe me) that was all about her insanity and Nattie dealing with a mental patient. The last singles match they had pre-Revolution was different again, this time the gritty, nasty brawling version.

Whatever route they go with it, they’ve never had a bad match. It’s a remarkable batting average.

There’s just something about them together. We live in the era of over saturation; WWE has a million hours of TV every week and endless rematches for no reason are not uncommon. One thing that the wrestlers can do to mitigate this is to make their matches not only feel different every time, but also feel part of a larger, coherent whole as well. They throw in callbacks to previous matches, counter moves and finishes that worked before, and then come up with counters to the counters. They make it seem like they’re actually learning from each match with one another, building a rivalry, and thus, it gives these matches some purpose and meaning. Basically, they act like they’re feuding, even if the company isn’t acting like they are.

Natalya and Alicia Fox always act like they’re feuding. Foxy has come up with so many counters to the Sharpshooter over the years that it’s always amazing when Nattie can get it on first go. Foxy also often sees Nattie’s kip up coming, and BOOTS her effin’ head off for having the AUDACITY to try that ish on her. They LOVE to slap each other and get sucked into these slap battles. And of course, ever since The Wig Incident, whenever hair comes up in one of their matches it is A Big Deal. Never forget.

These two know they’re feuding. When they randomly cross paths with each other, in a tag team match or whatever it may be, they are always so visibly excited to get it on, on a level above if it was anyone else. They know. And then they lock up, like only they can, and just go to town. And they’ve done so since 2009, right up until literally today as I write this.

Full disclosure, as of right now I haven’t seen their Mixed Match Challenge match yet. But I am hopelessly excited to get to it. The great thing is that they’re both currently on the Raw roster, and on different sides of the fence, so the possibility is there for more and more matches. My dream match is tantalisingly within reach again.

Please WWE. Give ’em 15 minutes and I’ll never whinge about Shane ever again.

I’ll certainly have more to say about both Nattie and Alicia Fox in the future. There’s a lot of ground to cover still. But you know what, next week I might bite the bullet and unleash the piece that I’ve been brandishing as a weapon for the last two years. Be ready.

Check it out: Natalya vs. Alicia Fox (ECW, March 3rd 2009) Natalya vs. Alicia Fox (Superstars, February 10th 2011) Natalya vs. Alicia Fox (Superstars, July 7th 2011) Natalya vs. Alicia Fox (Superstars, July 21st 2011) Natalya vs. Alicia Fox (Superstars, September 13th 2012) Natalya vs. Alicia Fox (Saturday Morning Slam, January 20th 2013) Natalya vs. Alicia Fox (Main Event, December 11th 2013) Natalya vs. Alicia Fox (Smackdown, June 6th 2014) Natalya vs. Alicia Fox (Smackdown, April 9th 2015)