#they need props for them and their clown partner

[gambitier]

cringetober day 3: unnecessarily complex fit

ft. wist (my clown oc)

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Digital Circus with a Mime Reader, who CAN speak but prefers to use sign language and gestures: they find find Kaufmo in the middle of abstracting and try to calm him down (against their better judgement). It doesn't go well, ending with them locking and closing Kaufmo's door, and running to find Caine... Only to hear the theme song suddenly stop and Jax say something about a "new character" as they approach...

Ough finally some Kaufmo angst-

........

Approaching Kaufmo's door, you stopped in front of it and politely knocked, wanting to check up on him before Caine could summon everybody to perform the Digital Circus' "theme song" musical number.

As of late, your fellow clown hasn't been feeling up to snuff, since apparently nobody was laughing at his jokes anymore...

Although said jokes have all mentioned something about an exit--a way out of the digital realm you've grown quite comfortable living in. But even when he is dead serious, the others are convinced he's only kidding around, pretending to laugh and sometimes asking him if he could joke about something else.

Least to say...it grew frustrating for him.

The only reason he hadn't totally lost it yet was because of you, a mime who has lived in the circus for the past five months and befriended him quickly. Together you've put on many acts: with his wacky props and your invisible techniques, your shows were amusing to all.

That being said, you didn't want your longtime partner to think about any exits too much, as you've lost several friends in the past when they started talking about the same thing.

It happened to Queener, Kinger's beloved wife, and the poor chess piece has been on the brink of abstraction ever since (honestly, it's a miracle he didn't immediately follow her).

Fortunately, he remained stable enough to be around everyone.

As for Kaufmo?

He didn't look so good last night at dinner, and you haven't seen him all morning. Normally he'd be up and about, juggling random things as he walked or approaching you to brainstorm new acts to perform.

Him locking himself away in his room was not normal.

Especially when he knew this musical number was super important to Caine.

After waiting a minute or two, you perked up as he finally answered the door.

At first you smiled in greeting, although that was quick to fade when he only kept it open just a crack--enough for you to barely see his face...

Which bore a terrified expression underneath his runny makeup, making his frown look worse than it actually is. His hat was nowhere to be found, either.

''Are you okay, Kaufmo?" You signed, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

That was your usual way of talking, despite knowing you could very well speak freely. You had no clue if you were proficient in sign language before entering this circus, but regardless it always came in handy, and everybody did their best to communicate with you that way (or at least those with fingers, unlike Zooble or Gangle).

Since your performances usually involved silence and expressive gestures, you didn't see a need to talk often--and that was usually fine with Kaufmo, who'd always chatter with you in sign language right back.

But when he attempted to respond, you swore you both saw his own hands glitching, before he quickly retracted them, clearly frightened.

You, on the other hand, wanted to believe it was just a "digital hallucination".

That's all it was...right?

"I-I'm sorry, [y/n]..haven't been..feeling like myself-f-f lately.." Even his own voice was betraying him, as it sounded distorted, lagging as though he was a slow computer program. "But you believe me, don't you?"

"Believe what?"

"The...the exit, of course! The thing I've been talking about this whole time!! It's real! There IS a way out!! I-I can show you!!"

You blinked, before shaking your head. "Kaufmo, let me in."

"Oh no, I think that's a bad id--wait! Wait!!" Despite his pleas for you to stop, you forced your way into his room, shutting the door behind you so nobody else could intrude or eavesdrop.

The last thing you needed was Caine listening in.

Yet after taking a look around at the state of his quarters--with everything being a complete mess and the word "EXIT" scrawled onto every square inch of the ceiling and walls--you were nothing short of terrified for his mental well-being.

'My god....what has he done..?' You thought to yourself, mortified.

"No, no, no, no!!"

Looking back at Kaufmo, you saw him back up against the wall, holding his face as black glitchy polygons started appearing on his body. He gasped in horror, looking at his hands...and then up at you.

"What's..h-happening to me-e-e?"

Your heart sunk, knowing exactly what was going on.

"You're abstracting.." You whispered, your voice small yet shaken.

"I-I didn't...think I'd be next...it hurts so much! Christ-!!!" He began crying, his makeup oozing as he stared at you with empty, soulless black eyes. One of his arms was already taken over by the glitches, morphing into a large one covered in jagged polygons.

"Make it stop..MAKE IT STOP!!!" He screamed, slumping to the floor.

You were frozen in a state of panic, unsure if you should go get Caine or stay here and try to pull him out of his abstraction.

Either way, you had to do something fast...lest you lose him forever or become infected yourself.

"Just focus on me, pal. I'm here. I'm here." Kneeling down, you grasped his non-glitching hand tightly with both of yours, attempting to guide him through a breathing exercise.

"You'll get through this." You mouthed, but he just shook his head, noticing a single glowing eye forming on the surface of the glitchy flesh.

"Wh-Whatever you do...don't tell Caine, I beg you-u.." He pleaded. "He'll lock me away...a-and I'll be all alone in the dark..I don't wanna be alone.."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you shook your head, and he gazed at you in confusion. "What do you mean "no"? You'd let him throw me into the cellar with the rest of them...?" He started to grow angrier, feeling betrayed. "I thought we were partners!"

"We are partners, Kaufmo. Always will be." You sighed, wishing there was another way to stop this from happening. "But there's nothing more I can do...he needs to know-"

"Fine...maybe things will be better if I'm not around to tell my stupid jokes anymore."

"Kaufmo-"

"Go....run, [y/n]...run-n-n-nnNNNN------"

Immediately after he said that, you let him go right as his other hand quickly became overtaken by the abstraction, almost taking you with it.

You got up and took a step backwards, watching in mute terror as he rapidly grew in size, turning into a massive amalgamation of glitch black polygons. Even more glowy-trippy eyes were popping up in different places, looking in every direction.

Within seconds, Kaufmo no longer resembled the clown you once knew (or a person, in general)....but was instead replaced by a horrific digital beast with a long neck, standing on four legs.

You gulped as every single eye on his body suddenly shifted to stare directly down at you.

'Uh-oh-'

You hastily created an invisible wall just as he lunged at you with a ferocious roar, slamming right into the illusion like a bird smacking into a glass pane.

'He still falls for the oldest trick in the book..oh Kaufmo..'

Although it pained your heart to abandon him like this, he was too far gone to be saved. He didn't even recognize you anymore.

The only thing you could do now was get Caine before he harmed you or anybody else--even if it means you never saw him again. He could very well threaten the entire stability of this world if he got loose.

You quickly ran out of the room just before he could break through the "wall" and go after you, slamming the door shut and locking it tight.

Moments later, you heard him ram into it, the hinges damn near breaking off (but by the grace of cartoon physics, that didn't happen).

You wiped the sweat from your forehead, making a mad dash out of the dormitory section of the tent in a desperate search for Caine.

Unfortunately, you could already hear Bubble's singing in the distance as the gang's musical number routine was already starting:

"Gangle, and Zooble, and Kinger, too~!"

You ran as fast as your legs could possibly carry you. They were already aware of both of your absences, and they chose to go on with the song anyways.

'Jerks..they couldn't at least wait for me?' You huffed. 'Caine never tells us when we're doing these musical ditties-'

By the time you arrived, however, you heard the music abruptly cut out.

You stopped upon seeing your friends tumbled over each other on the floor, with Gangle's comedy mask being broken and Jax picking himself up in annoyance.

"Caine, is this one of your NPCs or is this a new sucker?"

Blinking, you glanced at the new person he was referring to, surprised to see a girl dressed as a red and blue jester.

"........."

Now you couldn't say anything to Caine.

Not right now, at least.

[yandere-romanticaa]

song inspiration. // icon credit.

❝ 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐎𝐃 ...

What does one do when the omen of death hovers above them at all times? Be it day or night, there was no escaping the clown.

He would often visit you in your chambers, a silly smile on his face and he would often bring some props or toys with him, to kill the silence you know? Nikolai was unpredictable as the wind and you gave up trying to reason with him ages ago.

For a man who claims to be free like a bird, he was definitely shackled by his everlasting loyalty to Fyodor.

There were times when you would allow a tiny speck of courage to overtake your heart which gave you the will and strength to question the clown. Bit by bit your questions became bolder and bolder but Nikolai would give you either impossible riddles, half truths or even downright lies if he saw fit. Countless hours were spent with him in your room, his body draped over yours as he would talk and talk but he liked it when you talked too.

Even his own humanity shined ever so slightly in the rare occasions when his clown mask would slip.

"Everything I do, is for the greater good." he would say, his tone uncharacteristically soft as his hand would reach out for your cheek, his fingers just shy from actual contact.

"However." he continued, his voice much sharper now.

"If Fyodor catches you, there is nothing I can do!~ Him and I are partners and partners tell everything to each other, don't they?"

He would revert back to his clownish attitude in a matter of seconds, long gone was that moody and somber look in his eye as his goofy and playful demeanor would return at lightning speed.

You weren't even sure if he was human to begin with.

That is why you needed to get away.

... 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐎𝐓. ❞

"You have nowhere to run."

He was right, as per usual. It was infuriating how weak you were next to him, no matter what you tried to do, no matter how hard you tried to fight back Fyodor somehow always managed to be ten steps ahead of you. With your racing heart and dazed head it was hard to focus on anything other than him but Fyodor did nothing but stare, his purple eyes shining with complete glee as he no longer bothered to hide the smirk he held in for oh so long. Your escape attempt while it may be futile it was also oddly...

Cute.

Yes, that's the word, cute. The man hardly ever used such trivial words to describe the things he held in high regard but really, this entire situation was just too cute even for a demon like him.

Every step he took, every plan he made and every person he killed - it was all for his endgame. He wasn't quite sure how to fit you into the mix just yet but that didn't matter to him. He will force you to fit into his puzzle, he will craft everything with his own two hands from scratch because that is just the kind of man he is.

A cruel, merciless one. A killer.

He made sure to engrave that deep into your mind and soul at every possible opportunity.

🕊️ TAGS: @yanroma, @oneoftheprettynerds, @sxy0ung, @misdollface, @rosemary108233, @c4xcocoa, @gettinshiggywithit, @ophticcus, @lakxcpsta, @ranposgirlboss, @robinaxolotl, @acornwinter

[uninformedartist]

So a review on Helluva boss So2 ep 6

Ok so gonna break this review down into positives and negatives with my additional thoughts.

Positives:

So always start off with this, big props and love to the animation team we know know and see your struggle working under Vivienne and animating her over-complicated designs. Props to the BG team really stunning backgrounds, was actually a bit over the top for me (Ozzie's palace and especially the dildo factory shit was moving way too fast) but did pause to have a look at the BGs it is really pretty, the shit pacing made everything a visual blur tho.

VA work stunning love always a joy to hear Alex and James in any VA work tho Fizz's song was eyyy not the best but don't blame Alex it was a shittly written song in general especially when it went to the heavy metal part, overstimulating af and again shit pacing during the song and the flashing visuals gave me a headache. Striker's new VA, Ed's voice really grew on me he should've been Striker in the 1st place because I know for a fact Norman couldn't reprise his role for future episodes.

I loved Ozzie and Fizz's relationship especially the end scene where you can see Ozzie development or got hold of the best technology to give Fizz functional limbs, was a tender scene their relationship and interactions made me smile. I'll give Viv 1 ty for not fucking up their relationship, ty Viv (I can be nice to her :). Tho 1 scene that bothered me... the 12 sec Ozzie dong scene 💀 my soul it was just so jarring especially with the fast pacing. Felt like a race car coming to an immediate stop then speeding off again. Would've like the scene replaced with Fizz telling Bliz something nice about Ozzie, why Fizz likes him. I'm tired of queer couples/pairings in this show describing their partner in 2 ways, 1. how good they are in bed or 2. they got x anatomy that's amazing. But its Viv writing this ep, sigh her and her damn middle school sex jokes I'll let it slide.

Now negatives:

I said it before I'll say it for all eternity, the pacing was dogshit bad oh my soul wtf... Viv, Adam whoever I know you guys don't listen to criticism but if any criticism you take fix your damn pacing 😑. I had to pause multiple times just to see what has happening, what was said, what this paper/sign etc said. It was bad, and that paired with the overdetailed BGs and character designs, for the 1st time ever I got overstimulted from a HB ep and had to take a 5 min break to rest my eyes (was by Fizz's song). Its a noisey spinning kaleidoscope this ep, so unpleasant and its all pacing. Stay on certain scenes a bit longer and allow the audience to take in the scene before them (that flackback scene) its makes a difference. If you get overwhelmed/overstimlated ect by such visuals I recommend watching the leaked episode its much better in terms of pacing since its mostly storyboards and there is no color, plus its just the VAs talking with no background music and zero to minimal sound effects.

I didn't care for Crimson in this episode, I know he became Viv's favorite 😒 but seeing this fucker back so soon, it wasn't enjoyable, especially since the only reason he's in this ep is for a "big score" 😑. Also I'm tired of this over convenient plots, Fizz so happened to be in the greed ring and so happened to run into Blitz and Striker so happened to be in greed meeting with Crim who need a man for a "big score" AND SO HAPPENED Striker sees Fizz/Blitz fighting outside the window 🙃. Its all too convenient for me it takes me out and I then think how the plot coming together is ridiculous.

Striker is so under utilized. Since Viv hates him (confirmed by sources I can't pull now apologies) and she wrote this episode, everything established of Striker in So1 is destroyed. He's a husk of his intended character, all talk no show, a misogynistic clown who you can see Viv has no care writing him properly because she doesn't like him which is fucking horrible, this woman will butcher an integral villian, one with a good motivation (he hates blue-bloods) all because "oh I don't like him he's not in my fav OC list", petty af.

Fizz's disability and how its handled, spoke about it in this post:

It still remains the same though now we see it wasn't Wally holding the cake just some other imp and the card Bliz made for Fizz was a love confession still doesn't justify his reaction shoving the imp and his still underlying jealousy of Fizz since they were young. Yes it was backing off from a love confession/ashamed he's not as good a performer as Fizz, Blitz was jealous of Fizz. Made another post saying how I like how Fizz sees his disability, he's content, happy, has Ozzie who understands him and even made/went out his way to get Fizz the best prosthetics to better his quality of life, I like that good on Fizzy :).

5. Going to be a separate long post on (ಠ_ಠ) Blitz, THE FUCKING BIRD IS BACK 💀💀💀 why your rotisserie chicken ass not in hospital or we just skipping past that and how Viv keeps I'm gonna say it, forcing her characters to have daddy issues by writing this fucking irritating basic fanfic trope of killing the mother offscreen/not having the mother in the picture/us seeing her face. A commenter pointed this out and it irritates me because its the 3rd time she does this, she show Tilla (Blitz's mom) in pictures, you think there would be an episode revolving around Blitz's childhood etc but no she's "in" a fast paced pitty party flashback. This woman really can't show an ounce of respect to any female characters.

This is all for now, will be making more posts the more this ep settles in.

Score: 4.7/10

[cebwrites]

Reacting to being kissed as a confession (Kidd)

Zoro and Bartolomeo’s reactions gn reader, mostly fluff word count: 0.6k

Kidd’s stunned, out of surprise if anything, but it doesn’t take long until he realizes what’s going on, and now he’s hot on your heels, yelling at you across the ship to explain yourself

“Oi, __, what the hell was that?! Don’t run away from me, coward!”

It’s a wild goose chase for the both of you, disrupting everyone else’s routines on the Punk as you made a mad dash though the halls and across the deck, weaving in between and away from people just to avoid having to have that awkward conversation or walk the plank for having kissed your captain without permission

Eventually, Kidd corners you, or you’ve been handed in by the crew (Killer) to minimize the destruction the two of you have wreaked on everyone’s peaceful Sunday afternoon, and Kidd’s not taking evasion as an answer anymore You shrink under his gaze, playing cat and mouse for the better part of the day certainly hasn’t made Kidd any less temperamental than he usually is But at the same time, there’s a certain kind of impatience radiating from your captain that you can’t quite place your finger on - the way that he’s tapping his foot, his eyes flickering from here to there across you; almost as if he’s desperately searching your body language for an indication for what your answer might be. You manage to gather up the courage to blurt out a hasty explanation before Kidd’s head explodes in a similar fashion to his hair, bracing yourself for the aftermath as you speak about how you’ve always admired him as your captain, propped out his ideals of loyalty and fearlessness on a pedestal as a goal for you to strive to but as time passed and the more you were around him - you realized that these feelings weren’t simply of admiration. You adore your captain, you’d lay down your life for him - as you would for anyone else on this crew and them for you - but Kidd was different, he was special, he was the man who would conquer the world with his crew at his side and  you feel selfish for wanting more. When the eruptive response you were expecting doesn’t come, you turn back to look at your captain - Kidd doesn’t look happy, but it doesn’t feel like he’s going to bite your head off any time soon, either “That’s how ya’ really feel, ey?” His voice is gruff, his gaze heavy as you nod, stubbornly standing your ground as you maintain unwavering eye contact - you could handle at least this much, especially if you were expected to be Kidd’s partner. He’s leant back in the chair by his workspace, sitting with his legs spread wide and the arrogance alongside it fit for a king. Suddenly, he pats his lap, you blink. Kidd levels a look your way - ‘Well, go on then, I’m waiting’ You can see it in his eyes, wasting no time more as you make yourself comfortable on his large thigh and the broad expanse of his chest. His organic arm snakes around your waist, the warmth is welcomed, you feel like you could get used to this. “Heh, partners, huh? I can roll with that.” Kidd moves in for a kiss and you gladly meet the man halfway. It’s a rough, breathless kiss that leaves you yearning for more even as the need for oxygen rips you away. Kidd smirks when he sees you gasping for air, his shirt bunched in your fists as he takes your chin between his fingers. You think he’s going in for another one when he runs his thumb over your bottom lip, already smeared in his favorite shade of red, when Kidd leans into your ear instead, “Pull that clown shit again and I’m getting Haikei to toss you in the drink.”

[bohemian-nights]

what do you think of laenyra? 🤔 (Whether book or show or both)

I’m not interested in any ship that involves Miss Maegor(except her x the first van to the nuthouse), but if we are talking about the validity of the ship(there is none) then that’s a different story.

Show!Laenyra does not exist. I wished the morons who are trying to make fetch happen would stop using Show!Laena in their fanart because show!Miss Maegor viewed Laena as competition(see Missy Anne glaring at her at her wedding).

It’s disrespectful as hell to put show!Laena with the woman who shamelessly threw herself at her husband at her funeral(karma hit her fast though, see chokegate). This ship is worse than Rancid. At least that’s show canon.

Don’t even get me started on how the dumb fucking Karen’s who love to shit on Nettles for being Black and existing suddenly care about racism when it comes to Laenyra. The fact that these clowns would rather make up racism than admit the truth is hilarious.

Let me break it down for those who pretend to be death dumb and blind, the show is not racist for not entertaining this bullshit ship.

The show is racist for making Laena seem like second place which is coincidentally the same thing that Becky and them are trying to do with Laenyra and Nettles when they say she should be fucking cut from the show because there are too many darkies around.

The show is racist for screwing over Laena. This show is racist for racebending a character and then proceeding to kill her off in the most brutal way possible in order to make a racist white woman’s death(she had it coming for her) look less pathetic while labeling your deplorable decisions as “empowering.”

Laena is treated as a pet or a prop by these deluded stans and not an actual character who deserved respect love and cherishment. Her purpose was not and has never been to bow down and thirst over a fucking lunatic.

Anyone who doesn’t acknowledge that isn’t ready to have a conversation about this shows biases and their own.

Moving on! The only basis for book!Laenyra is the word fond(which is used in as a comparison between how Missy Anne viewed Laena vs. her stepmother). That’s not enough proof to show that they were fucking or in a throuple situation with Daemon.

If they had actually been in the former Daemon would’ve gotten Missy Maegors dumbass pregnant and Joffrey would not exist(anyone who doesn’t think so is a dumb fuck who needs to brush up on their reading comprehension).

I’ve said it once, but I’ll say it until I’m blue in the face. No one actually cares about this stupid ship. Notice how the only people who ship it are Rhaenyra/Dumbnyra stans.

The only reason why Rhaenyra’s dumbass racist white-supremacy lite stanbase pretends to care about Laenyra is so that they can squeeze Rhaenyra’s ass into Laena and Daemon’s marriage and make it seem like Daemon just can’t live without her.

(Which makes total sense considering he couldn’t live without her so much that he choked her the fuck out in the show after she gave birth to a lizard and abandoned her for Nettles when she went fucking crazy and tried to murder her in her sleep in the books. I guess it’s not true love unless you completely don’t care about your partners emotional and physical well-being☺️).

To wrap this up, I cannot express how much I loathe this nonsensical ship(that’s why I’m censoring any of my cursing). Period point blank show!Laenyra isn’t fucking canon and book!Laenyra has only lint to support it being “canon.”

*I should add that there are people who genuinely support Laenyra and aren’t trying to use the ship to insert Miss Maegor into Laena and Daemons marriage or only view Laena as a prop, but they are few and far between.

[earthling-wolf]

Pe Real-Time

Thirst for Novelty

We receive from the explorer process the elation of new experiences; of sunset watching, cave diving, dancing, ocean sailing, travel and all sorts of fluid and rich activities. The explorer process wants to rediscover everything on its own. It may not be enough to view something in a book, since the greatest fulfillment comes in the real-time witnessing of life. Pe has an insatiable hunger for what comes next and can grow bored and restless in an environment that offers little opportunities for experimentation. The explorer process seeks animation and when a stagnant and texture-less “present” yields no such properties, they will venture elsewhere. But "elsewhere" need not be a physical location, as Pe types will also have the highest curiosity for new concepts, ideas, theories and interpretations of life. They may dabble with information structures, trying them on consecutively until finding their favorites. Yet, because this thirst is permanently embedded within Pe, it is not in it's nature to ever be fully satisfied for long. They may eventually abandon their present engagements to once again pursue new avenues and discover what has now entered into global attention.

Plasticity

This gives Pe a contemporary focus, allowing it to be up to date but also to pivot quickly whenever necessary. It carries an enormous capacity for flexibility and improvisation. Being "too old for new tricks" is never the case for Pe due to its refresh factor which metabolizes the world anew each moment. Learning a new job, task, skill, language or exercise is always plausible and in the worst case scenario older abilities are simply forgotten with time. In this sense Pe can be quite unlimited, as it gives the person an ability to reinvent themselves endlessly. But this plasticity can also have an unsettling effect, especially when this continual reinvention causes a loss of personal identity. The rate at which Pe can adapt to reality may leave it wondering about it's core essence, what they most cherish, what career is best suited for them and what kind of partner they really want. They will be vulnerable to surrender to the transience of life, flowing with all its currents, only to wash up ashore in a life they neither expected or wanted. But Pe also gives types a capacity to recover from hardships, to maintain hope and to keep on swimming.

Sense of Humor

This function also generates a special talent for humor, with Pe-leads being the most highly represented in the domain of comedy. Pe's situational awareness allows for quick improvisational thinking, leading to success in anything from stand-up comedy to freestyle rap. A key focus of the Pe function is entertainment, both in what it gravitates to and what it's own activity creates. Above all else Pe enjoys the experience of surprise and amusement; the euphoric stimulation of an engaging situation. Thus, Pe can provide a great deal of energy toward raising the laughter of the present, often using itself as a resource or prop. The class clown is a quintessential exemplar of Pe's comical energy, as is the court jester or joker. Because humor is generated by the sudden inversion of our perceptions and expectations, it constitutes a contagious novelty which Pe will thirst after in the same way it does for any other information. This habit of humor often translates into an jolly, easygoing and enthusiastic personality that is known for bringing a spark of light into the room.

Generative Ability

The essential role of Pe is the appreciation and introduction of new information into the world. It both seeks that information out but also participates in its renewed manifestation through a creative act. Pe is a creative function and is thus a key source of innovation and invention. The perpetual re-imagining of music, fashion, drama, art, and media owes its existence to Pe which forever revitalizes society. The street performer, the traveling musician, the trinket maker, the aerosol artist, the break-dancer, the gypsy, and the like -- are all varied iterations of a broader Pe narrative that collectively transforms and defines modern culture. However, this generative ability is also responsible for destabilizing the present societal structures. The heavier aspect of Pe can equally lead to disarray, disorder, and chaos as a byproduct of the disassembly of previous boundaries. Pe will flirt with danger as it explores uncharted territories, and stepping outside of the known societal structures can lead to delinquency, escapism, and intoxication.

[stefankarlfanblog]

One plus one equals 15

Article written by Sigurður G. Valgeirsson for Morgunblaðið on the 18th of September 2012: https://timarit.is/page/6028253#page/n29/mode/2up

Brilliant "Hilmir Snær and Stefán shine in this show, exactly as they did at the end of the year 2000 and all the characters are memorable" says, among others. in a review of the play Stones in his Pockets

Stones in his Pockets by Marie Jones. Actors: Hilmir Snær Guðnason and Stefán Karl Stefánsson. Design and costumes: Elín Edda Árnadóttir, Lighting: Halldór Örn Óskarsson, Translation: Guðni Kolbeinsson. Director: Ian McElhinney, Assistant Director: Selma Björnsdóttir. Premiere on the big stage of the National Theater on 15th of September 2012.

It is a good example of how active our imaginations are, despite everything, that two actors, who hardly change their clothes and have no special props to help them, can playfully keep a large hall captivated for over two hours.

In order for this to be successful, however, you need both a good story and excellent actors, and that applies in this case. Stones in his Pockets takes place in a village in Ireland where a big movie is being filmed and many of the townspeople have a job as extras in it. The work is actually turning a Hollywood film on its head, showing what really happens to the supporting actors between the time the glossy film is created. The opposite is the plot of the blockbuster, its stars, director, assistant director and security guard - people who live in some kind of artificial world.

The work paints a picture of the poor employment situation and limited opportunities of the villagers, weak hopes and broken dreams. The main characters are Jake Quinn, played by Stefán Karl Stefánsson, and Charlie Conlon, played by Hilmir Snær Guðnason. In addition, the partners act as thirteen characters, so it can be said that this is a show with many people.

Jake Quinn was born and raised locally. He has tried his luck in the United States but came home again with his tail between his legs. Charile Conlon has been laid off and suffered trauma. The former is extremely heavy-handed and full of accusations against himself and others for everything that goes wrong, the other is a bit of a clown who tries to make fun of most things. Underneath, however, there is a difficult experience.

Hilmir Snær and Stefán shine in this show, exactly as they did at the end of 2000, and all the characters are memorable. I especially mention Mickey, an old and experienced supporting actor played by Stefán Karl, and Jack Campbell, Caroline's security guard, which Hilmir Snær fills in well. Hilmir Snær also plays Finn, who is insecure and has a slight stammer, with great genius so that you instantly recognize the character.

It's especially nice to see how those companies manage to portray women. Hilmir Snær treated the movie star Caroline Giovanni so well that there was a real electric atmosphere between her and Jake Quinn. Stefán Karl was also very entertaining as the ambitious Aisling. She is the third assistant director, but she is aiming higher.

The show is all very well executed and the transitions flow perfectly. We can thank Ian McElhinney, the experienced director of the work, who has directed it in many places with a good reputation, including when it was shown in Iceland last time.

One of the things that made this show especially fun was how the band played to the audience and how the audience was drawn into the piece. Among other things, one of the spectators was forced to become a willing participant to the considerable joy of those present. Then the dance act of those partners is fantastically elegant and fun. In short, it was a memorable evening with good work and even better actors.

[unrivalling]

Decided to share a WIP Wednesday snippet from the Crewel/Crowley fic I started.

It slammed to a halt because I couldn’t figure out how the scene ends/how to get them fucking but I thought too much about gay bars on Sage’s Island

The Spindle was the only gentlemen's club on Sage’s Island that Divus graced with his presence.

It was on the second floor of a Shaftlands-inspired inn, up a dim, creaking staircase. A host greeted him and opened the door without asking for the password, allowing Divus to blow past him with a cursory nod as he stepped into the narrow entryway.

A warmly lit lounge greeted him. It didn’t feel like coming home, exactly, but it was close enough.

Not a crowded night, he observed as he took in the scene.

A pair of men in business suits were seated at the bar, chatting with the bartender as he wiped down a glass. In the middle of the room, an older man in blastcycle leathers was sprawled out on a loveseat, spurred boots propped up on an ornate coffee table as he sipped a beer with one hand, and held three chains in the other. His pups had leather masks, and each was in a various state of undress as they doted on their master, speaking only when spoken to. Divus was pretty sure he’d played with one of them a time or two—a man who owned a flower shop on Cobble St—and was glad he’d seemed to find a regular partner. Smoke, quiet conversation, and the occasional cheer came out of the gambling rooms in the back, where Divus’s friend Oleander was no doubt dressed up and dealing cards as Francesca.

Not seeing anyone new, Divus sidled up to the bar to collect the rye cocktail that the bartender started making the moment he walked in, then scanned around for a quiet seat where he might be able to watch.

Someone else had the same idea.

In an alcove, half-hidden by a scarlet curtain, Dire Crowley looked at home seated in a plush, red armchair sat with one leg crossed over the other. A colorful cocktail rested on the end table next to him, and his gloved fingers, tipped with metal, tapped on the curvy glass. His obnoxious showman’s vest sparkled in the low light, and he’d hung his hat on a rack nailed to a nearby pillar, but the bird mask had stayed on.

Divus didn’t think he’d ever seen him without it.

By the time Divus saw him, Crowley’s pinprick magelight eyes were already fixed on his location. Those false eyes would be unsettling, if Divus didn’t know what a clown he was.

Crowley’s expression split into a smile, a clear invitation.

After a brief calculation, Divus sauntered over. It wasn’t the company he’d been looking for, but it felt unwise to ignore his boss, considering the circumstances. After gently hanging up his coat, he settled into the opposite seat.

“Hello,” Crowley said by way of greeting, his voice half joking and half syrupy sweet. “Come here often?”

“Yes,” Divus answered. “But you don’t.”

Crowley shrugged and took a sip of his drink. “I’m just so busy, I almost never have time to make it to town.”

There were only two bars on the island where Divus might encounter like-minded men. The other one, Cry Wolf, was a cheap, noisy dive where one was just as likely as not to run into a student with a fake I.D., something Divus desperately preferred not to know about rather than need to drag some young idiot back to campus by the ear and bring it up with the rest of the faculty. Too much hassle for his precious nights off.

There was no such risk at The Spindle, mostly. Only a couple NRC students were old enough to attend and classy enough to know about it, and Divus had never seen Leona Kingscholar there, so he assumed he was safe.

And he’d never seen Dire Crowley at either one.

“I wouldn’t have guessed this was your kind of place.” Divus chose his words carefully. There was nothing prohibiting faculty from socializing with whomever they chose, so long as they were discrete, but it was still potentially salacious for both of them. But at least the feeling would doubtlessly be mutual, and he couldn't deny a little curiosity.

Crowley smiled slyly under his mask. “Hmm, whyever not? There are good drinks…good company…”

“I suppose that answers that,” Divus said. He wrinkled his nose. The smell of tropical fruit and sweet, heavy rum wafting over from Crowley’s drink was overpowering.

“That leaves me wondering what kind of place you thought you might find me.”

“The circus.” He took a sip of his drink.

[tsumucore]

Request: ok headcannon this the tiktok trend of either climbing into your bfs lap/filming their reaction to you dancing/the walking in naked reaction Daichi, Kuroo, Semi, Bokuto, and Iwa??? or really any of them bc like honestly those reactions would be hilarious 🤣

A/N: I have so much fun writing tiktok requests :D

Warning: implied NSFW

Daichi

You were planning to spend some quality time with your boyfriend by having a movie night. As he set up everything in the living room, you were finishing up your shower. After drying your hair, you wrapped a towel around yourself which gave you an idea.

You had been seeing the trend of people ‘dropping the towel’ and walking in naked on their partners all over social media. You wanted to know how Daichi would react; obviously, he had seen you naked many times before, but catching him off guard would be interesting.

“Baby, are you almost done?” Daichi’s voice floated over to where you stood in the bathroom, spurring your eagerness to commence with the plan. You loosened the towel and got your phone ready to catch everything on film. You opened the door and emerged from the cloud of steam that had filled the bathroom.

“Daichi,” you drawled as you watched him prop up pillows and spread out blankets on the couch. You waited until he turned around to acknowledge you before letting the towel drop to the floor with one effortless flick of the wrist.

This man didn’t even bat an eye at your naked form. “Uh, babe? Make sure you’re completely dry if you’re going to be laying on the blankets.”

You felt like a clown; you were trying to catch him off guard, and instead, he had caught you off guard. You quickly stopped recording and saved the footage before stamping your foot. “Daichi,” you whined. “You were supposed to react more favorably - blush or stutter or something.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” he chuckled at your slightly indignant expression. “Here, why don’t you sit on my lap while we go ahead and start this movie. I’ll show you a genuine reaction.”

Kuroo

Damn you, Kenma, you thought to yourself for what felt like the umpteenth time. Ever since Kenma had introduced your boyfriend to a new game, he had been hooked. You considered yourself to be a reasonable person, but if Kuroo didn’t give you some attention soon, you were going to spontaneously combust.

Lo and behold, you saw the trend all over your ‘for you’ page: people walking in stark naked to see how their partners would react. You decided at once that you were going to try it. If your boyfriend didn’t react favorably to this, you were going to scream into the void.

You wrapped a towel around your otherwise bare body and pressed “record” on your phone. You ambled into the living room, took a deep breath, and called his name before dropping the towel.

“Yeah, babe,” your boyfriend didn’t even bother to turn around as his fingers madly pushed the controller’s buttons. Unbelievable. He merely continued to talk into his headset. You were going to have to kick this up a notch.

You stopped recording and threw your phone on the couch. In case you failed again, you did not need your humiliation caught on film. You came up behind him, lightly massaging his shoulders and calling his name one more time. “Tetsurou...” You were now climbing into his lap.

Kuroo immediately dropped the controller in surprise. He took one look at you before pausing the game and hastily turning off the headset before lightly tossing it next to him. “What’s all this, babe?” He chuckled while roaming his hands all over you.

Bingo. “It’s for you,” you replied.” But if you want to get back to your game, that’s fine with me too.” You shimmied out of his grasp and started heading out of the room. You had to pull together every brain cell you had to suppress your laughter when you heard him tripping over himself to chase after you.

Semi

Your could hear the echoes from your boyfriend’s bass wafting from his makeshift studio in his apartment. He really was good - so good, that you could feel the energy his sound conveyed from where you stood in the kitchen.

The bassline tingled through your extremities as you felt it evoke a slight swaying of your hips. This gave you an idea. You pulled off your clothes and casually dropped them on the living room couch before opening the tiktok app and recording your journey to Semi’s studio.

You lightly danced your way down the hall and to the right where you paused briefly outside the door of his second bedroom-turned-studio. You knocked lightly and pushed the door open, continuing to sway your hips to the rhythm of your lover’s music.

Semi was still playing when he lifted his head to look up at you - and when he did, his eyes widened and crimson dusted his cheeks. “Eita, I just love your playing so much... Look what it’s making me do,” you giggled as you slightly twirled your torso, causing your breasts to bounce.

At this, Semi couldn’t meet your eyes as he stopped playing to use one hand to cover the embarrassed smile tugging at his face. Cute. You stopped recording and shook your phone at him. “Now everyone will know how talented you are. You’re welcome,” you declared teasingly.

He gave a slight roll of his eyes before setting aside the bass and pulling you on his lap. “Oh? I think you had an ulterior motive going on here... I find it hard to believe you did this out of the goodness of your heart.”

You stuck your tongue out at him before lightly slapping his chest and feigning shock. “I’m offended that you’re questioning my kindness.” This earned you another eye roll and a sweet kiss straight on your lips.

Bokuto

The second you saw the trend circulating all over social media, you knew you had to try it on your own eccentric boyfriend. You wanted to see how he would react - obviously, he would get excited (it was Bokuto after all), but you thought it would be funny to get everything on camera.

He was on the phone with someone - Akaashi, you presumed - as you dawdled in the bedroom. You stripped yourself down completely and hit the record button on your phone. Showtime.

“Akaashi, I swear! It’s all in the Chipotle sauce.” Your boyfriend was speaking through mouthfuls of sandwich when you walked into the living room. “No, it really does make a difference! Man, this re-” You rolled your eyes as you waited for him to look up at you. 3, 2, 1.

When he finally acknowledged your presence, his already owlish eyes widened even further and bits of sandwich were falling out his mouth as he gaped at your completely bare form. “Akaashi, I gotta go,” he practically screamed as he tossed his phone on the couch and eagerly ran towards you, banging his toe on the furniture in the process. This man really started limping in his efforts to get to you.

You decided to yank his chain even further by innocently asking him what was wrong and then glancing down at yourself as if realizing for the first time that you were naked. By now, he was practically frothing at the mouth. “Woah, can we do it right now?”

You stopped recording because his hands were getting - ahem - grabby, and you were sure tiktok’s policy wouldn’t take too kindly to what was about to commence.

Bonus: He pulled a fast one and did the exact same thing to you a few days later.

Iwaizumi

You had been seeing the trend all over your ‘for you’ page for the past couple weeks. At first, you disregarded it as just another corny gimmick for couples chasing clout. However, your curiosity got the best of you as you wondered what your own boyfriend’s reaction would be like.

You commenced your plan of action by staying in your bedroom when he came home from the gym. He always made a protein shake in the kitchen after working out, so you knew this was the best time to catch him.

The only thing you had on as you made your way down the hallway was a towel wrapped precariously around your body. Your phone was on and recording your journey to the kitchen. Once you reached the kitchen, you saw that his back was turned to you as he was pouring the shake into a glass. Perfect.

“Hajime,” you called in the sweetest tone you could muster before dropping the towel on the floor. Your boyfriend was in the middle of taking a swig of his shake as he turned around.

When he saw that you were completely naked in front of him, he spluttered and choked on his shake, which sent him into a coughing fit. It took a whole minute for him to recover. His cheeks were red and his hands were wiping away at his mouth.

You teased him incessantly after ending the recording. You had successfully captured what you were looking for.

“Oi, what do you think you’re doing?” While you gleefully examined the footage, you didn’t notice your boyfriend inching closer to you and grabbing your hips. “Maybe I need to teach you a lesson.”

.°•  rules  ₊˚•.  masterlist  .°•

[inskz]

lucky charm - lee minho

pairing - lee minho x reader

genre - college!au, best friends to lovers, very cliche fluff (lucky girl starring lindsey lohan kinda vibes???)

words - 4k

note - this is just a cute little drabble i wrote while im still waiting for my covid test results to come back so that i can leave my room and see the sun again 🤪 pls be careful everybody take care of your health 💚 enjoy!!!

- - - - -

“You must be kidding me,” you sigh when you see Minho’s hand has turned into a fist, his rock crushing miserably your scissors. Once again, you lost at rock, paper, scissors. And once again, you’re the one that is going to wash your best friend’s dishes that have piled up in is tiny kitchen sink throughout the week.

“Fuck that. This is so unfair,” you grumble, throwing the dishtowel in Minho’s stupid yet perfectly chiseled face.

You make a beeline for his bed, which is actually only a few steps away from the kitchen. Being a broke college student definitely doesn’t allow him to rent a spacious studio, let alone a two-room apartment. You throw yourself headfirst onto his uncomfortable mattress, whose springs always poke your back at night.

“Life is so unfair,” your friend mocks you, dragging out every vowel of his sentence dramatically.

No doubt, you would be strangling him at that very moment if you weren’t so busy playing dead, hoping he would forget about your pitiful existence.

But there is no way mister Lee Minho would miss out on an opportunity to have his gross plates cleaned by someone else. Grabbing onto your ankle, he drags you out of bed until you plop down on the dirty carpeted floor (Minho has the unfortunate tendency to procrastinate vacuuming too). At this point, you are fake crying, throwing a literal tantrum, like a 6 years old child would.

“Life is unfair!” you yell, your feet kicking in the air in pure anger.

At least it is to you. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been lucky. The only instance you got remotely close to it was when you found a four-leaf clover last summer. Well, only if you disregard the fact you stepped into dog poop  on your way to picking it. Oh and that you were wearing brand new white Converse. 

On the other hand, it seems like the boy has the whole crew of the Olympus gods on his side. Not one day goes by without his guardian angel manifesting its presence. 

Minho has always been the lucky type. The type to get an extra nugget in his box of 10. To find 20 dollars bills on the ground. To win every single Instagram giveaway he participates to (and lord knows how much he likes participating to them). 

But how can you be mad at him when he always happily shares his food with you, invites you to the restaurant without you even asking, and gives you his prizes, pretending he doesn’t need them? You don’t believe him when he says he see no use in a panda onesie or a waterproof bluetooth speaker. Deep down, you know it’s his way to silently love you. 

But well, you can still blame him for occasionally taking advantage of your misfortune to make you do his dreaded house chores, just like right now. 

Everyone thinks you are a bizarre duo. Even you can’t fathom how in hell you two became best friends, considering how awfully your first encounter went three years ago. 

On orientation day, he asked you for the time, probably because his phone was dead (or maybe because he was dying to talk to you?)

Without hesitation, you lifted and rotated your wrist so that you could see your watch. Little did you remember; you never actually owned a watch and you were holding a fancy 7 dollars iced coffee, which, of course, did not have a lid on because plastic is bad for the environment (duh). 

Minho couldn’t help but burst out in hysterical laughter when the whole drink spilled on your jeans. For your defense, you didn’t sleep at all the night before  since you were terrified of being alone in your new dorm room the first few days (weird stuff happens all the time in dorms, okay?). If he had asked you for your name, you probably wouldn’t even have been able to tell him. 

But Minho thought you were the funniest person on campus, and he really needed a clown like you to entertain him throughout his endless college semesters. That’s what he told you anyways. Not that he thought you were the cutest human being he had ever seen. 

Why would he when you are the literal definition of a mess: always having toothpaste stains on your sweater, bags under your eyes, messy hair, tripping and falling, missing buses, breaking things, losing stuff. 

Most of the time, you just forget your keys and Minho lets you crash at his place since he hasn’t got any roommate and he isn’t used to sleeping alone, especially without his cats. It surely isn’t because he loves waking up next to a very groggy but adorable you every single morning, no.  

Minho manages to bring you back to the countertop despite your reluctance. Positioned behind you, his arms trapping your body to make sure you can’t run away from your duties, he dips your hands into the soapy water, and you can’t help but squirm at the touch of an unknown substance sticking to a plate that has probably been soaking here for a week. You despise doing the dishes and your friend knows it.

You hear him giggle in your ear while he is playing with your arms like you are some type of marionette, making you to take the sponge and squeeze dish soap onto it. 

You’ve never been the kind to like proximity nor seemed to be Minho, but for some reason, you always end up glued to each other. You hate public displays of attention and pet names a little less when it comes from him. Or maybe you don’t hate it at all and actually crave it every single minute that goes by.

Before he has the time to come up with the Machiavellian idea to soak your pajamas in dirty water (because you know he would inevitably have at some point), you yank his hands off of you and start scrubbing angrily the dirty cups. 

Minho stays behind you anyways, observing your every move, his chin propped up on your shoulder like a curious little bird. To be honest, his presence is kind of getting overwhelming. But whatever, it’s not like his slightest touch makes your heart warm up in comfort or that he smells like fresh linen drying out on the porch of a cottage house on a sunny Sunday morning or anything. 

“You missed a spot. Here” he murmurs teasingly, his lips almost touching your earlobe, while he points at the handle of his hideous ‘world’s greatest dad’ mug Jisung gifted him last christmas. 

You know he has noticed the way you shivered violently at the feeling of his breath tickling your skin because he starts snickering loudly. 

“I swear to god if you don’t shut up and go seat on the couch, I’ll slap you so hard with this spatula you’ll regret you were even born,” you say, turning around suddenly to menace him with the plastic utensil. 

Of course, he isn’t afraid one bit. Right now, you really wish you could make the smug, but oh so attractive, look on his face disappear. 

“Alright, ma’am” he laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll let you do your thing”. He lets himself fall onto his dingy couch. 

You can hear him humming one of his favorite songs above the sound of the water running. It would probably be getting on your nerves if his voice wasn’t so pretty.  

“Chan’s sick, so we’re not going to the gym tomorrow night. Do you wanna eat tacos? El Huero has even better deals than usual” he asks you, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. 

“Aren’t the deals supposed to be on Tuesdays?” You frown and scrub a little harder the frying pan Minho has burnt the night before while trying to make chocolate chips pancakes for diner, because why eat savory food when you can have dessert for every meal, right? It is one of the few advantages of living without your parents you both truly enjoy. 

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Tomorrow,” he yawns, probably exhausted after what you put him through last night. You forced him to catch up on the entire season of Love Island because you desperately needed someone to bitch with, and what better partner than Lee Minho.  

You take a quick glance at him and see him stretching himself across the cushions like a cat. You always thought there was something feline about his features. While you’re drying the mugs with the dishtowel, your mind wanders uncontrollably, thinking about his piercing eyes, his delicate nose, the corners of his lips that curl up a little… 

All of the sudden, your hands freeze. Minho is too immersed in TikToks to notice the stupor on your face. “Wait. Today is… Monday?” you stutter. 

Alarmed by the sound of your voice, his eyes finally leave his phone’s screen to look up at you. “Yeah” he repeats slowly as if you are the dumbest person he has ever encountered. 

And you truly are. You are pretty sure your heart has stopped beating. Minho’s “world’s greatest dad” mug you’re holding slips between your fingers and comes crashing on the floor with a deafening sound. The pieces are now scattered all around you, making you unable to make out what’s written on it anymore. Not a big loss, if you ask. 

“Y/N, you know that’s my favorite mug!” he exclaims, leaping up from the couch. “I’m sure you did it on purpose,” he mutters while he’s trying to collect the small fragments, in vain. 

But you’re too shocked at this very moment to pay attention to the glare your friend is giving you. To be honest, Minho has only two moods: glaring at you or teasing you.  

“My interview,” you finally manage to say, and Minho’s eyes go wide as he realizes the critical situation you’re in. 

You check the time on the microwave: 10:45. In 30 minutes, you’re supposed to be on the other side of town, being interrogated by boring businessmen that are going to decide whether or not you’ll be accepted for a paid internship in one of the most reputable music label of the country. Basically, decide whether you’ll live a happy and fulfilling life, working in the sector you’ve always dreamed of or end up miserable with a boring office job and a massive college debt. 

“Holy shit,” Minho whispers. You can see a wave of panic washing across his face for a split second, but, as always, he manages to find his composure back immediately. 

He has never been the kind to lose his cool, except to scold you when you forget the names of his cats and their respective coats’ color (which you unfortunately often did forget). 

“What are you doing? Get dressed!” He tells you when he sees you’re still standing there dumbfounded in the kitchen, like the famous Robert Pattinson meme, wearing an oversize Kermit the frog shirt with a dozen holes in it and his favorite Adidas sweatpants you always stole from him.

“No, it’s too late. I can’t make it,” you mutter, your breath short. You’re paralyzed, as if there is a 20lbs rock sitting at the bottom of your stomach, pinning you to the ground. 

This isn’t bad luck, you think. This is karma. This is what you get for skipping classes to watch telereality shows in your bed with your best friend and not even realizing it isn’t the weekend anymore.

“Miss me with that bullshit.” He runs to his closet and rummages through his drawers, throwing every piece of clothing that’s on his way to find an appropriate outfit that would fit you. 

“You’re gonna go do this interview even if I have to drag you all the way there.” He pushes you into his bathroom since you still haven’t moved an inch. 

You manage to brush your teeth and your hair, fighting through the nauseous feeling that is building up in your tummy. 

When you come back to the living room, Minho has found dress pants and a sweater that might not look utterly ridiculous on you. He lets you change in a corner, while he runs around the room collecting all your essentials. 

“You’re coming?” you ask him when you see he is already wearing his puffer jacket.  

“You really think I’m gonna let you go all by yourself when you’re literally not even able to put your shoes on properly”. You are, indeed, struggling with your laces, as if your fingers are suddenly made out of butter. 

Minho ties them up for you and you literally feel like he’s your babysitter. You know you’re gonna hear about this for months – what are you saying- years! But all you can think about at the moment though, is the fact that sneakers are definitely not appropriate for an interview. 

He throws your warmest coat at you, grab his keys, and by some type of miracle, you’re both out to the door in less than 10 minutes. 

You try to call the elevator, but Minho grabs your arm and leads you to the staircase. His hand never leaving yours, he runs down the stairs and you have no choice but to follow him as fast as you can. 

You can’t count how many times you missed a step and fell at this particularly slippery spot, between the 5th and the 4th floor, but weirdly enough, it doesn’t happen today. 

When you finally reach the ground floor, you exit the complex and Minho hops on his old and rusty bike that he had attached to nearest tree the night before.

“There’s no way I’m riding behind you on this death machine,” you laugh nervously. The memory of that one time Minho convinced you to seat into his bicycle basket (as if you could even realistically fit in it) and you both fell seconds after he started to pedal is coming back to your mind.

Sure, it was after a long night of drinking, you were both tipsy and it was the only way to get you home since you had spent all your uber money at the bar, but still! You’re pretty sure the bruise on your butt hasn’t disappeared to this day.  

“Hurry up,” Minho groans, ignoring your complaint. You unwillingly seat on his flimsy pannier rack and wrap your arms around his torso. 

You haven’t even left, yet you’re already holding onto his puffer jacket for dear life. A giggle escapes your friend’s mouth (which you think is very inappropriate in such a desperate situation) before he lifts his feet off the ground and starts pedaling. 

You try to ignore the loud squeaking of the bicycle drive by shutting your eyes tighter and rehearsing your introduction you have prepared over and over in your head. No matter how hard you are trying, you can’t remember what you are supposed to say just after your age (which, as you can imagine, isn’t really far into your monologue). 

By the way the wind is lashing your face, you can tell Minho has picked up the speed. His breathing is getting louder, his heartbeat faster and you can’t help but think you’re probably way too heavy for him to bike you around like that. Maybe he shouldn’t skip his gym sessions with Chan so often. Or maybe you shouldn’t have eaten the leftover pancakes for breakfast after all.

You find the courage to open your eyelids and are pleased to see you’re already halfway there, probably because every single one of the traffic lights you encounter is green, and your friend is going surprisingly fast. Is luck finally starting to smile upon you? 

Your mad race comes to a halt when you reach the address of your interview. You hop off the bike and so does Minho who, by the way, is a panting mess. He’s barely able to catch his breath, strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, but he’s beaming at you when he realizes you’re just on time. 

“Go” he gasps, pushing you in the direction of the building’s hall. 

You walk up to the glass door but as your hands are about to push it, you pull a 180. Your friend sighs loudly, already knowing what’s coming next. 

“Wait. No. I can’t do this. I’m not prepared” you tell him frantically. “I’m freaking out. I think I’m gonna pass out.” You are now walking in circles, mumbling incoherently. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

Your heart is racing in your chest and your hands are getting clammy at the simple thought of failure. But guess what? You can’t fail if you don’t even try! One more good reason to just go back to bed and forget about your sad life for a good 8 hours, right? 

“Y/N, you’re the most talented person I know, you’re gonna do just fine” Minho catches you in his arm to stop your endless pacing. You would probably think this gesture is endearing if it wasn’t just meant to make sure you couldn’t run for your life.  

“No, I’m not. What if I throw up in front of everybody like that one time during the Romeo and Juliet musical?” You look up at him and his face is only inches away from yours. You’re sure you would be swooning at how beautiful he looks if you weren’t so terrified at this very moment.

“You were nine,” your best friend says, and you swear you have never heard him speak to you in such a sweet tone before. His voice is like honey and lavander but it doesn’t soothe you like it should. 

You manage to break free from his embrace to crouch down, in an attempt to slow down your breathing. If only you had data left, you could be watching those short relaxing videos on your phone. They always work. But no, you had to spent it all on online games, just one week into the month. You really are beyond help.  

“Y/N I know you’re scared, but if you miss out on this opportunity, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your life.” Minho is lowering himself so that you can hear him, even though you’re curled up in a ball. 

“And I’m warning you, I won’t want to hear you complain about it,” he adds, this whole situation obviously starting to get on his nerves. 

If you were him, you would have probably left a long time ago. But this isn’t your best friend’s way of behaving. You know he would never abandon you no matter how annoying you could be (and you could be very annoying sometimes). After all, he is always the one holding your hair while you puke in the toilets when you had a couple too many drinks.

It takes all your willpower to stand up but there is no other way, you have to do it. You can hear the time ticking dangerously in your mind, as if your brain had turned into a clock.

“You’re right. Slap me,” you say, looking at him straight in the eyes, dead serious. 

“Wha -“

“Slap some sense into me. They do that in movies when people are panicking. It’s like throwing a bucket of cold water in someone’s face. But clearly we don’t have a bucket and we don’t have cold wa- “ you start blabbering. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not gonna slap you!” Your friend isn’t usually that horrified at the thought of beating your ass. In fact, he has felt the desire to rip your head off more than once, especially when you’d steal all the duvet at night, but at this moment he is just scared you might have actually lost your mind.  

“Just fucking do it Minho!” you scream, your hands clenching the front of his grey hoodie he always looks so divine in. 

Minho has never obeyed you, and this is not the day he is going to start. 

He puts both of his hands on the sides of your face and crashes his lips onto yours. 

You would be lying if you said you have never imagined the day your best friend would kiss you. It happens pretty much every single time you look at his cute pout a little too long. But one thing is certain, it isn’t like you pictured it to be at all.

You were convinced your heart would go so wild it would burst out of your chest and your head would spin so furiously you’d lose your balance. You thought your stomach would fill with butterflies to the brim and your whole body would be on fire.

But none of that is happening. On the contrary, every single muscle in your body relaxes under his touch. The way his soft mouth presses gently against yours makes you calmer, almost at peace amongst all this turmoil. 

Minho is kissing all your tension and stress away and you catch yourself letting a sigh of relief escape your parted lips.

As if you have kissed him already hundreds of times in your past life, Minho feels like home. He’s a safe haven you can always take refuge in during troubled times. Ever since the day you met, he has never left your side.

When he breaks away from the kiss, you notice your breath isn’t so ragged and your mind isn’t so foggy anymore. You’re serene. His cold hands are still cupping your face, slightly squishing your cheeks, and you feel like an idiot sandwich for asking him to slap you seconds before.

“That can work too, I guess…” you mutter.  

“You’re okay?” he asks, staring at you with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen.

You just nod, unable to say one more word, and sprint to the entrance, not wanting to make your interviewers wait any longer than they already have.

“Good luck!” You hear him yell just before the door closes behind you and you can’t help but grin from ear to ear.

- - - - - 

Thirty minutes later, you finally step out of the fancy lobby to find a very bored Minho leaning against a tree, patiently waiting for you.

“You’re still here?”

“Of course, I am,” he says, his mouth full of croissant. He gives you a large iced coffee he probably went buying to kill time. Your lips unconsciously curl up into a smile when you notice it comes from the same chain that the one you spilled on your lap on the day you first met him. 

“How did it go?” he asks you, sticking his buttery pastry into your mouth so that you can take a bite.

“Way better than I thought” you answer, right after you swallowed. You hate the way flakes would always get stuck between your teeth. But Minho is always there to warn you about it before anyone else notices, and even pick them for you if you can’t manage to, which, when you think about it, is kind of gross. 

There are two things the boy knows about you: you’re the greatest pessimist on earth and you’d rather die than admit you were wrong (especially if it meant he was right). So for you to even say it wasn’t that bad, means it went phenomenal. 

“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’ but I told you so.” He smiles so wide you can barely see his eyes anymore. You have to look away, otherwise you know you might become instantly blinded by love.

“Maybe I could use some more of your luck” you mumble, staring at your shoes and kicking the red leaves that were surrounding your feet on this sunny autumn morning. 

“Really? And what makes you think I’ll share it with you,” he teases you, leaning forward to incite you to look at him in the eyes. 

“That.”

Your hand finds the back of his neck and pulls him in, in order to close the space that is still left between your mouths.

At first, Minho stiffens, taken aback by your bold move. But soon enough, he caves into your touch. He kisses you back fervently, like he means it. 

His fingers entagle in your hair, his arm wraps around your waist and his chest presses against your body. You’re melting in his embrace, submerged by a wave of bliss which he alone seems to know the recipe. 

It feels new, yet so familiar. Like it was supposed to happen, like it was written in the stars. 

He tastes like croissant and Americano. Like fortune and fate. 

And you can’t help but think you’re the luckiest person on earth.

Who cares about winning the lottery when Lee Minho is your lucky charm? 

[miraculousluvbug]

WINGLESS | Ch. 5

***New to Wingless? Start at Chapter 1!

CH. SUMMARY: Plagg panics because Lila's the devil incarnate and Lila learns that Gabriel Agreste is far stupider than he seems.

Adrien fondly flicked through the pages of The Pun-thagorean Theorem (Making Math Funny!) textbook. Plumes of dust wafted up his nostrils, causing his eyes to squint and his mouth to contort into the longest face known to man to avoid a hacking fit, but he smiled afterward nonetheless. The book was withered beyond measure, sure, but within its decaying jacket, it held the fleeting whispers of a previous life. A life before his mother went missing. When she enjoyed teaching him math with puns and pieces of candy while his father clung to the confines of closed doors. When her jokes graced the halls and her smiles left behind a fog of golden joy in her wake.

Adrien’s heart thudded with longing.

But he was determined to push back the feelings he had kept buried deep, deep, deep within his heart. So deep that he often forgot they were even there until they reared their ugly heads like a Hydra from the deepest recesses of the sea. Every time he thought he dealt with it, thought he had cut off its head and could breathe for just a second, two heads sprouted in its stead, determined to grip him by the ankles with their jagged teeth and force him to drown in his debilitating lack of self-worth.

He shook his head violently, as if that could shed him of his intrusive thoughts.

Hopefully, this book would help Lila. And then she’d leave. And then he could skip the anime and just take a fat nap. Keeping the Hydra at bay was exhausting.

Correcting his posture, Adrien approached his classmate, noticing straight away she had moved to his desk chair. Odd. But he was willing to roll with it.

Ha. Get it? Desk chair. Roll with it.

He pursed his lips, trying to hold back his laughter at himself.

Kagami had called him a clown, but Ladybug, as it turned out, appreciated his sense of humor. And if Lady-friggin’-bug--Commander of Wit and Creative Mastermind--thought he was funny, he must have been a damn comedic prodigy.

Plagg recognized that love-struck look on Adrien’s face and had to physically restrain himself from making barf noises.

“Are you ready to start, Lila?” Adrien said. Oblivious to Adrien’s whereabouts, Lila started and spun to greet him. (Was he always that quiet on his feet?)

“Adrien! You found the book.”

“Yep! Why don’t you take a look at it before we start?” Adrien smiled as he passed the book to her.

Lila returned the smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Adrien idly wondered if she had ever meant a smile in her life. She pinched the book between her thumb and forefinger as if it were a moldy sock. “Wow, Adrien, this book is so . . .”

A silence lingered as Lila racked her vocabulary for a word less insulting than crusty.

“Old?” Adrien offered, tilting his head.

Lila tittered unenthusiastically. “Yes, old.” She draped the book onto Adrien’s desk and poked at it. “How long have you, um, had it?”

“It’s been in the family a while.” Adrien hesitated. He didn’t really want to mention his mother to Lila. Lila was poisonous. She spun every piece of information she caught into a sticky web of lies like it was second nature. He didn’t know if he could stomach hearing lies about his mother.

So he bit down on the story of his mom before it could tumble from his lips. Even though he so badly wanted to tell anyone who would listen. His father never afforded him the opportunity to speak about her. His friends at school avoided the topic like the plague.

Come to think of it, Marinette was the only one of his friends who tried to help him see her movie that fateful day the press tried to pass her as his girlfriend. (Which he wouldn’t have minded, honestly, but she always seemed hellbent on them being just friends, so he accepted it.)

Ladybug, the other important person in his life, saw his mother on his desktop during that one akuma attack and commented on her smile. Those two girls (er--women? Which term was more respectful?) were the only people he truly felt safe around. Safe enough to turn his back on the Hydra he always kept a watchful, tired eye on and just enjoy the breeze of the ocean as it caressed his cheeks and messed up his perfect hair.

No, the subject of his mother wouldn’t scare them away. They could handle it.

But Lila was no Ladybug, and she definitely was no Marinette.

Behind them, Plagg was practically pulling his antennae out. It had been at least eight, maybe ten minutes since the akuma alert and his kid was none the wiser. And it really didn’t help that he just saw Ladybug and Rena Rouge pass by Adrien’s gigantic glass wall in a blur of red and orange.

But it was hopeless! He couldn’t get the message to Adrien without being seen!

Or . . .

Or could he?

“‘What’s Pythagoras’ favorite instrument?’” Lila read aloud. Her eyes darted over to the blonde leaning against the desk beside her. He bit his lip and his eyes were doing something weird. She had never seen that emotion on him.

“Go on,” Adrien pushed, his eyes practically sparkling. Huh. Was that emotion . . . eagerness?

She cleared her throat and turned the book upside down to read the answer awaiting her at the bottom of the page.

“‘A triangle.’”

Adrien giggled. What he wanted to do was slap his knee and let the whole world know he found it funny with a booming laughter that rivaled Tom Dupain-Cheng’s, but he knew that was un-gentlemanly.

Lila quirked an eyebrow.

Adrien sobered immediately. “You know,” he tried. “Since a triangle is an instrument and the theorem is about right triangles.”

Lila’s stare was unrelenting.

Adrien coughed. “So the triangle is his . . . favorite instrument.”

Lila stared for a bit longer than necessary before letting out a glaringly obvious fake laugh. Adrien was more offended that she thought that laugh was believable than that she didn’t find the pun funny at all. “Ha. That’s, like, so funny, Adrien. I can tell already that this book is going to be a big help.”

Adrien’s shoulders drooped a little. He hadn’t expected her to fall to the ground in ceaseless mirth, but he hadn’t thought her to be such a brick wall either. “Right. Well, why don’t we start with number one? Do you have your notebook or do you need a spare piece of pap--?”

The sound of the television coming to life cut Adrien’s question short. Lila’s eyes bulged out of her head and the sight would have been comical had it not also meant that Plagg was being a nuisance. Again.

But honestly, when was he not?

Lila burst from her seat and sprinted to the television. “Were you standing on the remote or something?” Lila queried, her voice high-pitched and grating to Adrien’s ears.

Adrien scratched the back of his neck. Think, think, think . . .

“Um, my room is haunted?”

Lila gawked at him wordlessly, gripping the back of his sofa. “You posted something about that on Instagram, but I thought you were, I don’t know? Making it up?”

Because you would be an expert on that, right, Lila?

Adrien plucked the remote from the coffee table and pointed it at the television, his thumb barely brushing the power button when the words from the newscaster reached his ears and sent chills down his spine.

“New akuma . . .”

“Ladybug and Rena Rouge on the scene . . .”

“Chat Noir yet to be spotted . . .”

Adrien’s heart skipped a beat. Furrowing his brow, he ran to his phone and ogled its empty notification list. Why hadn’t he received an akuma alert? Was the Ladyblog acting buggy?

Adrien had to come up with an alibi and fast. Lie like the wind, Bullseye.

He scooped up his cherished pun textbook and shepherded Lila to his bedroom door despite her protests. “I’m so sorry, Lila! I, uh, just remembered I have to practice piano for an extra hour today.” The television droned on about the deadly, unstoppable, mind-controlling, threateningly large, new akuma behind him. The hair on Adrien’s neck stood up with every added adjective.

“You’re not seriously sending me out into the city where the akuma is?” Lila exclaimed.

Oh. The thought hadn’t occurred to him.

“Um, sorry, Lila, but I’m sure you’ll be fine! You’re Ladybug’s best friend, right? She’d never let anything happen to you.” Adrien smirked inwardly at that. Lila was failing miserably at hiding her disgust for his spotted partner when he shut the door--politely--in her face.

Quickly, he propped up his phone on the piano and navigated to his voice memo app.

“I deserve extra cheese,” Plagg drawled, hovering to the side of Adrien.

“For nearly exposing yourself to Lila?” Adrien remarked bitterly.

Plagg narrowed his eyes. “No, for figuring out how to get your attention when Lila was clearly undermining you!”

Adrien stopped dead in his tracks. His finger hovered above his latest piano recording while his mind raced. “What do you mean, Plagg? I didn’t get an akuma alert. That’s not her fault.”

Plagg scoffed. “Uh, you did get an akuma alert. That--that menace got rid of it!” Plagg folded his arms across his chest, clearly much angrier than he would ever admit. “She got rid of the notification so you wouldn’t see. Even when she doesn’t know she’s doing it, she’s sabotaging Ladybug! You can’t let her in your room anymore, Adrien.”

Adrien stiffened. So Lila was far worse than he gave her credit for. He wouldn’t underestimate her again. Harmless snooping, he could live with. Interfering with him protecting his lady? Unforgivable. She did that when he was Chat Noir and he thought he had learned his lesson.

Apparently not.

“We’ll talk about this more later, Plagg,” Adrien finally decided. A moment later, the soft melody of a piano piece danced around the room. His eyes wandered to the whiteboard on his wall that had twelve tally marks souring its otherwise pristine surface. Plagg followed his gaze and looked back at his kid with a frown and drooping brows, tail and antennae betraying his melancholy.

Adrien pointedly ignored Plagg’s Pity™ look. “Ladybug’s already cleansed an akuma twelve times without needing my help. Let’s not let there be a thirteenth. Claws out!”

Meanwhile, from the other side of Adrien’s door, Lila simmered, jaw clenched, mouth dry. She didn’t have an inkling why Adrien had concocted such a ridiculous excuse, but she was ninety percent sure it had something to do with Ladybug.

It always came back to that impudent roach.

Lila dragged her feet all the way to the main staircase with every intention to vacate the Agreste premises, but a quick sweep of the mainroom revealed the bodyguard was nowhere to be seen. And interestingly enough, neither was that dreadfully stoic assistant Adrien was so fond of. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen her when she first entered.

Empty. The room was deliciously empty.

And Lila had never seen the inside of Gabriel’s office.

Smirking, she decided she would have to correct that.

Just in case she got caught, Lila inconspicuously flitted around the room in an attempt to appear like she wasn’t on a mission. She fawned over trinkets and leisurely “admired” the boring paintings accosting the walls before her twitching fingers rested on the door handle.

She waited with an ear pressed against the wood. Silence had never tasted sweeter.

The room was . . . well, it left something to be desired.

Wasn’t Gabriel supposed to be a fashion icon?

His interior design made her want to gouge out her eyes with a plastic spork.

Lila gingerly let the door fall into place behind her, the hinges creaking only slightly (a billionaire or whatever he was could afford to professionally oil his door, she assumed) before her feet carried her to a mustard yellow tapestry. The woman adorning it she recognized was Adrien’s mother. The photos of Adrien to her right were all edited from photoshoots. Perfect. Unblemished.

Lila supposed she could overlook Adrien’s pitiful sense of humor. Adrien was still great eye candy, and his reputation made him an even tastier prize.

The scent of cologne and disinfectant mingled, battling each other for dominance and the result was only a bit nauseating. Orange light seeped in from the windows, the tendrils of luminance touching everything in the room but the wall with the tapestry. It was golden hour apparently.

Unable to help herself, Lila brushed her fingers along the edges of Gabriel’s touchscreen, searching, searching. Ah. There. A ridge. A power button, perhaps? With the tip of her fingernail, she pressed it and . . .

Of course, the thing would be password protected.

Maybe Adrien’s birthday?

Wait. Did she even know Adrien’s birthday?

Lila shrugged and turned on her heel. She was curious, but odds were she would never be able to guess Monsieur Agreste’s password. Unless . . .

Slowly pivoting to face the screen again, she tried typing something crazy and, albeit, a little stupid.

There was just no way. It was a waste of time to even try.

She tapped a green enter button.

The waiting screen consisted of the outline of a butterfly slowly being filled in and then repeating. Interesting. She wouldn’t have pegged Gabriel to be a butterfly guy. But if she thought about it really, reeeeally hard, she could just barely recall a few designs Adrien had modeled that sported a butterfly-like logo.

But whatever. This butterfly waiting screen meant nothing. There was still no way.

There was absolutely no way the password to the great fashion mogul Gabriel Agreste’s personal computer was “password.”

Was there?

She idly tapped her nails on the screen, the clack-clack-clack echoing around her in the frustratingly barren room. The anticipation ate away at her until . . .

Bingo. The screen unlocked, and the light shining on Lila transitioned from the black of the waiting screen to the blue of a schematic.

Lila snorted. “Seriously? I’m no Max but even I know that’s the most brainless password known to man.”

Closer inspection led to a fascinating revelation. The schematic wasn’t actually for a building or even a design. There were photos of her classmates and their . . .

Their hero personas? Interesting. Could he have been planning a Superhero line? How did he even find out their identities?

Wow, there was Nino as Carapace and that one girl Kagami as Ryuko. Max as some horse-looking hero she honestly had never seen in her life. Kim as a monkey. Unsurprising. Some guy with blue highlights who she’d only seen around Marinette. And Alya . . . as Rena Rouge.

Lila clenched her fists. Her nails left indentations in her palms.

She didn’t have time to stew over this infuriating morsel of information, however, before the floor beneath her began to tremble. Wasting no time, she sprinted to the middle of the room and was surprised to find the floor now still. Had she imagined the earth quaking?

What sounded like mechanical whirring had her spinning on her heel to face the painting. Her jaw dropped to the floor at the sight of a hole in the previously-unmarred tile. From the dark pit rose one bonafide, Barney-colored supervillain, his back facing her.

“Nooroo, dark wings fall.”

Instantly, a waterfall of purple and white glitter illuminated the room. The light was so intense, Lila had to lift her arms and shield her retinas. Her heart thudded wildly against her ribcage.

Any sane person would have run away at the sight of a supervillain in their classmate’s mansion.

But not Lila.

Lila quite liked Hawk Moth. She more than shared his distaste for the superhero duo and was overjoyed whenever he graced her with the opportunity to fight them as an akuma.

She was even more overjoyed to find out her boss and Hawk Moth were not just cut from the same cloth . . .

They were the same cloth.

The man otherwise known as Gabriel Agreste stood before her, hands clenched into tight fists at his sides.

His shoulders were hunched up to his ears as he grumbled, “Blasted children. I’ll get your Miraculous one of these days--”

“Um, Master?” a tiny voice interrupted.

Lila had never seen such a thing. Was that a bug? A fairy?

“What is it, Nooroo?”

Upon Nooroo’s silence, Gabriel turned around and was incapable of hiding the shock on his face when he found Lila Rossi trespassing in his office.

“How much did you see?” he demanded, scowling.

Lila tittered behind her hand. “Even if I hadn’t seen everything, Hawk Moth, I’d still be asking you what on Earth that thing is.” She jabbed a manicured finger at Nooroo.

Upon seeing his computer on and unlocked, Gabriel lifted his chin and sneered at the fifteen year old girl who had evidently outsmarted him.

Understanding, Lila shook her head. “You really are a boomer,” she mused. “‘Password’ is the least intelligent password you could have picked.”

“I thought it was clever, Master,” Nooroo meekly added.

Desperate to get control of the situation, Gabriel folded his hands behind his back and stood until he was at his full height. “So now you know.” He dared not move from higher ground. “I can’t imagine you thought it’d be smart to confront an adult man who’s shown he has nothing to lose.”

Lila raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you have, like, a son?”

Gabriel’s gaze was unrelenting.

Lila almost pitied the oblivious blonde boy. “Whatever. I just wanted to snoop around your office. I couldn’t have possibly dreamed a juicier secret. Paris’s beloved and esteemed fashion designer doubling as its masked terrorist?”

Gabriel bristled.

Feigning nonchalance, Lila perched upon one of Gabriel’s long purple benches and crossed one leg over the other before leaning an elbow on her knee and resting her cheek in her palm. Mischief twinkled in her eyes. “Scandalous.”

“I could make your life a living hell, young lady,” Gabriel began, but Lila held up a hand, halting him in his tracks.

“No need to get defensive, Monsieur. You have nothing to fear from me.” Lila stood then and crossed the room to stand on equal footing with Gabriel. While the top of her head was far beneath the man she addressed, her confidence made her a formidable contender. She leaned forward and peered up at him. “In fact, I want to help.”

Gabriel’s fingers twitched. He knew she liked getting akumatized, but this was unexpected. His initial reaction was to shut it down. This should have never happened. He had to ensure her silence but keep her far from involved.

His curiosity, however, got the better of him. He was a businessman at heart, after all.

“Help how?” he pressed.

Lila smiled crookedly.

Hook.

“You’ve akumatized me before and we’ve caused great chaos together.” Lila fiddled with one of her foxtails as she circled Gabriel. “Can you imagine if we actually strategized an akuma?”

“Are you implying my previous akuma were unplanned?”

Line.

“Not at all!” Lila mended, already sensing that Gabriel’s pride was a sore spot. “But you catch your victims when they’re unhinged, laden with their own emotions. How many times has an akuma put their own needs before yours?”

Lila turned her back on Gabriel then and moseyed toward the benches once more. She let her hand trail along the fabric of the cushions, waiting for him to take the bait . . .

“I’m listening.”

Sinker.

“What if your akuma’s goals were aligned with yours? Everything would be calculated. Predisposed. And--” Lila couldn’t prevent the smile from bleeding into her voice “--I’ve never had a sentimonster assist me before.” Lila stopped moving but remained facing the window. The sun was nearly set now.

Heels clacked against the tile. Approaching. Lila steeled herself.

“I don’t suppose you’ll join my assistant and I out in the gardens, Mademoiselle Rossi?”

Lila grinned from ear to ear. Oh, she could just imagine the taste of Ladybug’s fear when she loomed over her, fingers pinching her earrings and just ripping them from her lobes. Would the joy blooming in her heart be overwhelming, like a banana overpowering the flavors in a smoothie? Or would it slide down her throat like her mother’s hot chocolate? Rich, creamy, satisfying, and scalding all at the same time . . . but faintly nipping at her vocal cords from the traces of cinnamon?

Was it unbecoming to hope Ladybug’s ears would bleed?

“I would love to.”

Unbecoming or not, it was her greatest desire, from both the deepest and shallowest crevices of her soul.

-----

I just released Chapter 7 over on AO3, so if you're itching for more, go check it out here and leave me some love in the comments. Comments are jet fuel for my creativity 🥰 Follow me for updates and check out my Instagram where I post art!

(5/?) Previous | Next

[miss-tc-nova]

Fools on the Dancefloor - Xehanort x Eraqus

So this was my first fic for the Checkmate zine before I settled on the piece that I did actually end up making. I hope you enjoy because I definitely enjoyed writing it. 

Music Inspiration: Slow Dance cover by Ashestoashes

~~~~~

               “Yo, Fleetfoot!”

               When the pillow—his textbook—flies from beneath him, there’s a heavy THUNK and the boy in white jolts upright in shock. He finally comprehends the pair off to the side and gives his friends a cheesy smile.

               “Hey guys. What’s up?” he greets, rubbing at the spot his head met the table.

               Bragi snickers, but Vor is a little more serious. “You know Master Odin still expects you to know the stuff you sleep through.”

               That goofy grin replies, “I haven’t flunked out yet.”

               “You’ll be close if you keep drooling on your book.” Bragi’s upper lip curls back and he’s no longer keen on holding the text. “Gross! How can you catch up when you can’t even read the material anymore?”

               “It’s a talent.”

               “Whatever,” Bragi scoffs. Little Vor giggles behind her fist while the unimpressed boy throws his arms behind his head and leans his chair back on two legs.

               “Are you guys ready for the banquet this weekend?” the girl asks.

               “Not really,” Eraqus grumbles.

               Bragi groans along with him. “Man, don’t we already do enough to celebrate the Scala founders? We already got the festival, the show, and the lantern thing. We really gotta add a bunch of dumb speeches and some hokey pokey? Why are we even going again?”

               “Because Master Odin wants us there representing the future of keyblade wielders,” Vor sighs. “But I have to agree, it’s a little overkill on the celebrating.”

               “Some representation we’ll be when only Fleetfoot has fancy feet,” the red-head huffs. “The rest of us’ll be out there steppin’ on toes and Xehanort will probably be flat on his face.”

               Eraqus tilts his head. “You don’t think he can dance?”

               “Era, not everyone has your prestigious upbringing,” Vor reminds firmly. “It’s a miracle the rest of us have some basic understanding of formal dancing, but Xehanort came from a world completely different than ours. And from the sounds of it, he wasn’t exactly popular there.”

               The thought interests Eraqus; finding something Xehanort can’t do is pretty rare. “Yeah, but Xehanort learns pretty quick. We’ve spent most of our lives learning to use a keyblade but he caught up in less than a year.”

               “That’s true,” Bragi agrees. “It’d probably take him less than an hour to master the waltz or somethin’.”

               A hand slams down on the table, startling the boys enough that Bragi topples backwards. “That’s it! Eraqus, you should do a dance class,” Vor says excitedly.

               “D-Dance class?” Eraqus stammers. Even Bragi, once he’s shoved himself off the floor, gives her a skeptical look.

               “Yeah. Even if you try to help Xe, he’s not gonna accept it if he’s the only one. So what if we all went? Besides, I know I’m a little rusty.”

               Granite eyes look to Bragi who shrugs. “I got the gist of it, but my folks never made me learn so I guess I’m in.”

               Teaching Xehanort to dance—now that’s something Eraqus might enjoy. At first, his relation with the new-comer was adversarial, but as their competitions became more and more ridiculous, something stronger grew between them. There’s still a rivalry, but Eraqus began to notice a magnetism drawing him to his friend—a desire to be in his presence as often as possible. Outside that presence, he felt like he was lost in a fog. He spent his life navigating only what was right in front of him, but when Xehanort came into the picture, that smog rolled out and everything seemed clear. The pressure that comes with prestige fades, that outcast feeling he couldn’t shake slips away, and the jubilant act he used to put on becomes real—he’s truly happy when Xehanort is around.

               Dragging him from his contemplations is the creaking door; in steps the very person that has no issue overriding Era’s thoughts.

               “You guys do know class ended like thirty minutes ago, right?” he states, shifting the box under his arm.

               Bragi rights his toppled chair. “Yeah, but we decided to hassle Sleepfoot here.”

               “Guess what!” Vor shouts, hopping closer to Xe. “Eraqus is gonna teach us all to dance!”

               Well, he hadn’t actually accepted yet, but he can only meet that inquisitive glance with a fool’s smile.

               “You guys have fun with that.” The dismissal is so easy it pricks at Era’s ego.

               “So then you don’t mind looking like a clown at the banquet?” Bragi says with his signature smarmy grin. Silver eyes narrow at the offender. “Unless you can actually dance—in which case, show me wha’chu got.”

               Before Xehanort can retort, Vor tugs at his haori. “Come on! We’re all doing it. We’re supposed to be representing our school—we can’t be stumbling around.”

               Once again, he looks to Eraqus as if he’ll get an answer but Era’s being dragged into this just as much as he is.

               “Ugh. Fine.”

               “Great! We’ll do it tomorrow night after dinner!” the girl announces. “Bragi, come with me! We gotta find the others!”

               “Alright, alright.” There’s a clear difference in the enthusiasm and energy, but the two scurry off.

               “Those two are up to something,” Xehanort murmurs, watching the door close.

               “You think so?”

               “Yeah…” The suspicion fades when the youth in black turns back to Eraqus. There’s something soft there that churns at Eraqus’s stomach. “Anyway, chess?” he offers, holding up the box.

               “Oh, right!”

               The boys settle into their window seat, basking in the sunlight and pushing pieces across the board. Eraqus’s game isn’t up to par—his mind distracted with tomorrow’s endeavor. It’s fleeting, but there’s also the thought of Xehanort looking down at him, smiling, slow dancing. There goes any productivity he had any hope of having today.

~~~~~

               Class seems like an eternity and Eraqus can’t even nap through it this time. There’s a strange excitement concerning his dance class bubbling in his brain. He has a habit of half-assing things that involve effort—usually just getting by—but he’d actually spent time last night rehearsing what’s been drilled into his head since he was little. Even his daily chess game with Xehanort can barely distract him from his impatience, earning him a lecture from the boy who won’t accept an easy win—let alone two days in a row.

               Eraqus has never been early in his life for anything, he was even born a week late, but today is different; today, Eraqus scarfs down dinner like a starving man and rushes back to the classroom lugging a record player he’d borrowed from the Master. His heart is only just starting to slow when the door opens.

               “I told you guys he’d be here,” Vor says loudly.

               Urd smirks. “Now if he could just be on time to class.”

               Eraqus laughs. “I had to get the record player running.”

               “Oh my gods, he’s even prepared,” she gasps. “Did Hermod hit you too hard in class today?”

               Not thrilled with the subject, Hermod urges, “Alright, stop teasing him. The banquet is tomorrow so let’s get started.”

               The shortest classmate hurries forward. “Psst, Xe’s been grumbling about this all day, so you gotta give him lots of encouragement,” she whispers louder than necessary.

               “Okay?” Era agrees questionably. Standing straight, he notices how awkward Xehanort looks just being here, not even meeting anyone’s gaze. “Um, okay. Everyone partner up.”

               Vor hops beside Bragi while Urd nudges Hermod with an elbow; that leaves Xehanort—the person who needs the most help—without a partner.

               Eraqus glances around. “Wait, where’s Baldr?”

               “Said he already had plans to hang out with his sister,” Bragi answers.

               “Oh…” Well this un-evened the odds, granted they were already playing with some strange odds with four boys to two girls without the dance teacher, but at least even numbers made it possible to practice in pairs.

               “Guess I’ll just sit this one out,” Xehanort says, not at all irritated with the situation.

               Eraqus glances to Bragi and Vor who wave him on enthusiastically. While he may have been a bit enamored at the thought of dancing with Xehanort, he figured it would be in fleeting moments of demonstration, not being partnered for the whole thing.

               “Uh, no. It’s okay…I’ll be your partner.”

               The pair gives him thumbs up but Xehanort looks less amused. “Seriously?”

               The teacher shakes the doubt from his head. “Yeah.” He motions for Xehanort to approach. “Come on. I’ll do the girl’s part.”

               Cautiously, the boy in black comes closer. Trying to conceal his nerves, the expert props up his partner’s arms in the correct position and slides in to take the girl’s stance. As soon as Eraqus’s hand meets Xehanort’s bare arm, the latter recoils.

               “Nope! No! Uh uh! I’m out!” Xehanort blurts out, attempting to flee the situation.

               “Ah! Wait!” Eraqus snags a fistful of black fabric. “Come on. You didn’t even get to the first step. It’s really not that hard.”

               “I think I’d rather just make a fool of myself.”

               “You’d…rather be made fun of than dance with me?”

               The response comes harshly. “That’s not what I said!”

               The fabric creaks in Eraqus’s grasp while he lets his eyes plead for him. Somehow, in spite of Xehanort’s stubbornness, it works and the reluctant boy turns back with a sigh.

               Surprisingly, the class moves forward quite smoothly. Having done this before, the others require only some refinement on their moves while Xehanort is quick to catch on as always. The muscles in Eraqus’s face begin to ache from his uncontainable grin. Even as he’s correcting minor mistakes, his thoughts are teeming with the moments he’s got Xehanort’s hands on him and the static that buzzes across his skin where contact is made

               Currently, Eraqus is in the middle of teaching the pairs how to dip.

               “The girls should have most of their weight on the outside foot but the guys should still be holding them up somewhat.” Just as Eraqus begins to lean back, he remembers something. “And the guys should never—”

               The end of that sentence was ‘lean over their partner’ which is exactly what Xehanort does. This shift in weight unbalances the boys and down they go. Air promptly evacuates Era’s lungs as he’s squished between the floor and his partner.

               “Are you okay?” Hot breath ghosts across Eraqus’s nose.

               “Yeah,” he chuckles softly, the embers of a fire starting between his shoulder blades. Those silver eyes are so pretty up close, easily mesmerizing Eraqus.

               Xehanort helps the boy back to his feet, but as he does, there’s a disturbance that tugs the teacher’s attention to the far side of the room.

               “Shhh!” Vor hisses. She and Bragi are in the middle of harassing the other two, ushering the unwitting pair towards the door.

               “Hey!” Eraqus exclaims, starting for their friends. “What are you guys—”

               His steps halt when the grasp on his hand doesn’t release. With caution, he looks back at his fingers, still linked with Xehanort’s. His eyes trail up the opposite arm to the boy’s face, who refuses to make eye contact. Still, there’s the faintest dust of pink across his nose.

               “Show me that one again,” he murmurs.

               It doesn’t matter that Hermod and Urd are protesting or that Bragi and Vor are shushing them; absolutely nothing in this moment could tear Eraqus’s attention away from Xehanort. Without a word, he resets his stance, nudging Xehanort to take the lead.

               It’s a little strange to be playing the girl’s part in such a formal dance—having been unwillingly taught to be a leader his whole life—but Eraqus ignores discipline. The lesson forsaken, he lets his body react to the signals Xehanort gives while his mind soaks in this little bit of bliss.

               Having long forgotten their lesson, the pair slow dances for some time before Xehanort speaks with a crooked grin, “I told you they were up to something?”

               Eraqus laughs in response. “Do you think we should tell them we’re already dating?”

               “Nah, this is more entertaining. Besides, they deserve a little suffering for trying to meddle. Bunch of conniving foxes, all of them.”

               “Us too?”

               “Especially you.”

               “Me?”

               A spark shining in silver eyes expresses that adoration Eraqus used to confuse for less amorous feelings. Knowing what he does now, that look makes him feel so light.

               “Hiding all your talent behind that clown mask.” Xehanort’s words hold insult on the surface, but beneath them, in that husky tone, is that admiration. “The skill, smarts, wit…all on top of just how damn gorgeous you are.”

               Heat surges into Era’s ears. Afraid of turning into a real clown, he let’s his gaze fall to their feet. However, at the insistence of the hand at his back, the gap between them closes. His brain stutters briefly before the calm washes over him. The warmth against his cheek, the steady heartbeat against his ear—Eraqus soaks in this incredible comfort.

               While the music floats through the air, the boys continue to softly sway. This would never fly at the banquet; they’re expected to be polite gentlemen and dance with all the girls—that and Eraqus’s parents would never condone this. He’s supposed to be a proper heir who will continue the family line. Xehanort though, he makes it so easy to forget those responsibilities. Besides, they’re perfectly alone right now, no prying eyes, no forbidding parents; the only thing Eraqus has to do right now is enjoy the moment.  

               “It’s getting late,” Eraqus murmurs, noting the moon lighting their tranquility. “I didn’t even get to teach you Scala’s traditional dance.”

               “Now you decide to be responsible?” the other teases. “Why dance at the banquet tomorrow when we can dance here all night long?”

               That brings a flutter to Era’s heart and, from the sounds of it, Xe’s too. “You know the Master is still gonna expect us to be there.”

               “So what?”

               This boy could make every one of Eraqus’s fake smiles real, all with very little effort. “For once I won’t be the biggest fool in the room, not when you don’t even know the basic step of the Choros Lucis.”

               “Oh you’re still a fool; you just happen to be a fool with fancy feet.”

               “I guess that’ll make us just a couple of fools on the dancefloor, huh?”

               “Sure, but probably not because of the dancing.”

               Confused, Eraqus lifts his head. His question dies on his lips, sentenced by a simple kiss that awakens an avarice in the boy. His hands leave their positions, snagging silver hair and preventing any escape Xehanort may have considered. This is everything he’s ever wanted; his whole life, he’s been starved for this unconditional affection. It swells so strongly in his chest he might burst—with a scream, with tears, he doesn’t know. All he knows is that he’s in love.

               For a while, the taller boy indulges him, but does eventually manage to break away, smirking at the resulting pout.

               “That’s why we’re fools.”

[amanda-glassen]

Drabble Prompts #41

“I’m not drunk enough for this.”

Because this line screams Serena Benson 😂

My drabbles are never drabbles and always end up like over 1,000 words. Sorry about that. I just always have fun with The Wonder Years universe.😄

Swimming all day had made Olivia thirsty, so when her uncle Kyle brought out a six-pack of Kool-Aid Bursts, Olivia immediately got out of the pool.

“Wanna help me crack open this six pack?” Uncle Kyle asked her when she sat down next to him on a lounge chair.

“Can Alex have one, too?”

Kyle handed her one of the cherry Kool-Aid Bursts. “I don’t know. You tell me. Is your girl a lightweight or can she hang?”

“No, Alex can party,” Olivia nodded.

The three of them were on their second Kool-Aid Burst when Uncle Kyle decided to convince Olivia to do the unthinkable. “Most business deals are made over a cold drink,” he began. “And I have a proposition for the two of you. Seeing as we’re going to Disneyland tomorrow, I know the two of you could use some extra spending money.”

“I’m listening,” Olivia intently leaned in.

“I want you to prank your mom for me,” Kyle told them.

“No,” Olivia shook her head. “I’ve heard of my mom’s revenge pranks and I don’t want to be the target of one.”

“Ollie, you’re her baby,” Uncle Kyle pointed out. “She’d never prank you. That’s why this is perfect. I just need the two of you to say something that’s going to freak her out. I’ll even let you have creative control over what you say. I just want you to get her good.”

“How much are you offering?” Alex asked. “Twenty bucks, no. Fifty bucks, yes, and that’s fifty bucks each. I’m scared of Serena’s pranks, too, so I need my compensation to be worth it.”

It was an hour before sunset when the entire Benson family was outside. Jamie and Mr. Benson were at the grill. Alex and Olivia were taking turns on the water slide and Kyle, Serena, Lexie, and Olivia’s grandma were sitting by the pool. Olivia noticed her mom was on her fourth Kool-Aid Burst and acting unusually happy for some reason. I think it’s time.

Olivia got out of the pool and motioned for Alex to follow her. When they were seated at the table, they each grabbed a Kool-Aid Burst and took a few sips to gather up the nerve.

“Alex, did you know this makes your tongue red? Look!” Olivia stuck out her tongue at her girlfriend.

“Your tongue is really red,” Alex pointed out. “I like your tongue, Olivia. It’s so long.”

“Whoa,” Lexie laughed. “What’s going on here?”

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” Serena told her. “They’re just kids.”

“Aunt Lexie, what do you mean?” Olivia asked. “How is Alex saying I have a long tongue mean something bad?”

“Yeah, Lexie,” Serena teased. “Get yourself out of this one.”

“This is not my area of expertise,” Lexie insisted. “Ollie, why don’t you ask your mom and Jamie?”

“Mom,” Olivia began. “What’s that mean? What do you and Jamie know?” Olivia looked over at Uncle Kyle trying not to laugh hysterically and even her grandma was trying to maintain her composure. I think me and Alex are really earning our fifty dollars.

“Nothing,” Serena responded.

“Serena, I think you should have these types of conversations with Olivia,” Mrs. Benson added. “She’s at an age where she’s curious. Besides, you and Jamie aren’t exactly silent. I should know. I have the room right next to yours.”

“Mom! Stop! This is not a conversation I will have with her,” Serena responded, her face turning redder than Olivia had ever seen before. “Can we just change the subject? Please?”

“Alex’s tongue tastes like cherry,” Olivia blurted out. “I found out when I was kissing her this afternoon.”

“That’s it!” Serena stood up from her chair and grabbed another Kool-Aid Burst. “I’m not drunk enough for this! I’m going inside and, when I come back, this family better have switched the topic of conversation.”

“You kids were excellent!” Kyle said as soon as Serena was inside. He, Lexie, and her grandma were in hysterics. “I’ll give you the money after dinner.”

“I’ll throw in an extra hundred,” Mrs. Benson insisted. “You girls earned it.”

“Kyle!” Mr. Benson shouted from the grill. “I want you to leave my little princess alone. She’s fragile right now and I don’t want you doing anything to reverse the progress she’s made.”

“What progress?” Kyle laughed. “Your little princess is on her fourth vodka-spiked Kool-Aid Burst.”

“Not my little Serena,” Mr. Benson shook his head.

“Why do you think she keeps going inside?” Kyle asked. “She fills one of those little medicine syringes with vodka and inserts it into the hole on top of these drinks. Face it, Dad, your little princess is a lush.”

“How did this prank war even start?” Jamie asked.

“When I was six and Serena was eight, I cut the hair off of her favorite Barbie, and she spent the rest of the summer tormenting me,” Kyle began. “She got our Uncle Jeff who used to make movie props to make her this really creepy clown statue. As soon as I’d fall asleep, she’d sneak it into my room and switch the location every night. Some nights, it was right by my bed, other nights in the closet with the closet door wide open, but it was always staring at me and it’d be the first thing I’d see when I’d wake up in the middle of the night. I finally got fed up and confronted her. And that’s when she looks me dead in the eyes and says ‘Kyle, we don’t have a clown statue. It’s the serial killer who dresses like a clown and hides in kids’ bedrooms. You have to tell Mom and Dad.’ I started crying hysterically and she still kept up with the prank. That whole summer, I thought there was a killer clown out to get me. Our parents thought I was crazy and what made it worse is I later found out Serena paid some boys across the street to dispose of it before Mom and Dad could find any evidence of what she had done. All of this because I cut her Barbie’s hair.”

Jamie snickered. “That’s actually incredibly complex, especially for an eight-year-old.”

“She’s a fucking psychopath,” Kyle warned her. “Don’t be like Mom and Dad and be fooled by those big, sad eyes. She’s 5’5” of crazy. Ask her what she did to Brittany Jenkins, her opponent in the Phi Delt presidential election.”

Olivia turned to the sliding glass door and saw her mom standing in the doorway, Kool-Aid Burst in hand. “What happened between Brittany and me doesn’t concern you, Kyle,” she said in a smug tone of voice. “...and the clown statue wasn’t even my finest hour. You’re forgetting the Ouija board incident. I thought we were finished with this prank war, but when I was inside I realized you had used my own child against me. Ollie, Alex, I have an even better proposition for you. Whatever he paid you, I’ll double it.”

“Deal,” Alex and Olivia said in unison.

“I thought we were business partners. You’re on her side now?” Kyle asked the girls in disbelief.

“Yup,” Olivia responded. “I love you Uncle Kyle, but she’s my mommy and since tomorrow is Disneyland day, more money means the difference between lots of Lightning McQueen stuff and not that much Lightning McQueen stuff.”

“Yeah,” Alex agreed. “I really want sparkly Minnie Mouse ears and a Disney Dooney and Bourke purse. Mine and Olivia’s services are in demand right now so, really Kyle, pranking is currently more of a seller’s market.”

[kitty0boy]

Marichat May Day 7 prompt: Secrets.

I think we can all agree that we were robbed in Shanghai. So I’m rewriting it because I can. This time though, the Shanghai special takes place somewhere in the middle of season 4 (probably after Guiltrip because that’s the episode I just watched) So there’s that.

————————————

Marinette was so excited to go to Shanghai about a day ago. She had taken to reading more about her Chinese heritage and, having learned that her parents wanted to surprise her with a trip to Shanghai, she was ecstatic to go. Her uncle happily provided his home for the visit and, to her great surprise, Adrien had come to Shanghai too. His father had coincidentally had business here.

She had worked hard to get over Adrien and at this point in time, it had nearly worked. She had taken down the pictures and erased his activities on her calendar. Unfortunately, the sight of him still sent her heart racing and made her tongue tied, but she stopped losing her head whenever he was around, which made conversation much easier.

She had strolled around Shanghai earlier in the day. Her uncle was concerned for her safety of course but she promised she would stay on the same street. She had looked in shop windows at the gorgeous antiques, clothes, and even more. Her sketch book was soon filled with new inspiration for her designs. When she turned to head home, she spotted a familiar mop of blonde hair and waved to Adrien. He didn’t seem to notice her though.

All these events felt like they happened years ago now as she stood a top a building with a distraught Fei. The sounds of Chat Noir taking great swings at the akuma rang loudly in her ears. Fei was the only one who could defeat them and she knew it deep down, but she still couldn’t bring herself to.

The next moment, she was falling. The events of a few minutes previous had quickly left her mind. She remembered learning to crawl, and falling off her bike, and drawing her first every design, matching t-shirts that said “Paris’ Greatest Parents”. She remembered capturing Tikki in a glass cup the first time they met, and standing under an umbrella that Adrien was holding. Master Fu was making her the new Guardian and Alya held her when she found out she was Ladybug.

“Marinette!” A desperate cry came from above her and she saw her partner. Was this another flashback? Without control of her body, her hand reached up to touch him, she wanted to hug him and thank him for everything. His hand latched around hers and pulled her flush towards him, then they weren’t falling anymore. She snapped out of it when she felt a shudder come from him. He picked his head up off of her shoulder, his face was stained with dried tears as more threatened to spill

“I finally found you.”

Fei, being fuelled by rage that Marinette had almost been killed, had become a dragon at last and easily defeated the akuma. She bounded towards Chat Noir once the pair of them had reached ground level. In the mouth of the bear form she had taken, was the butterfly. “Excellent job Fei, you really saved us.” Chat sniffed. His eyes were slightly puffy, which could have been from falling head first about 20 feet. “Marinette,” he turned to face her, his eyes watered almost instantly, “I need you to go and hide for now, Hawkmoth was taken by the akuma and I don’t want you to be anywhere near him when he reappears.” Marinette, thinking that it would be better to just follow instructions, began to walk away. Chat caught her hand.

“Just wait for me to come get you alright? I’ll bring you to your u- uh wherever you’re staying.” She looked at him puzzled. “But,” he waved a finger at her. “No buts, I’m making sure you get back safely. And don’t even try to leave without me, I will know.” She nodded and walked away towards a nearby, deserted alleyway.

“Marinette, what’s that on your shoulder?” Tikki flew from her purse. Marinette felt behind her with her arm before her fingers closed around a small disc. She pulled it off.

“That cat put a tracker on me. What a sly little,” Marinette recited but Tikki cut in. “He’s worried Marinette. You heard and saw how he reacted when you were falling.”

“No I didn’t, I just remember one minute I was with Fei, the next me and Chat were dangling from his baton in midair and he was crying.” Tikki smiled. “Yes he was crying, he screamed in terror when he saw you fall. It was quite frightening actually, that’s probably why Fei didn’t say anything.”

Marinette thought about this for a moment before realizing that she had somewhere to be. “We’ve got to go meet Chat and Fei now, there’s an akuma to cleanse and hopefully a Hawkmoth to catch. Tikki, Spots On!”

As she made her way to the alley where Chat thought she was, she couldn’t help feeling satisfied. She sent Chat to get Hawkmoth and although he didn’t catch him, she was still glad to see that the run had calmed him down a little. That was until he realized that Marinette was still alone in that alleyway. She was able to persuade him to wait and calm down before going to get her though, which gave her time to get back to her hiding spot and, with Tikki’s help, put the tracking device back where it had been moments ago.

A soft thump was heard beside her before she was being suffocated under arms that were magically stronger than the average person. “You’re alright, you’re alright.” He chanted over and over again before realizing that Marinette couldn’t breathe. He released her almost immediately and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. Marinette who wanted to comfort him, wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head and his chest. She could hear his heartbeat steadily speed up as he hugged her back and rested his head on hers.

“I was so worried when I found out you were missing. I thought maybe you had lost track of things, being how clumsy you are.” Marinette looked up at him and pouted. How long had he been searching for her exactly? Because it was about 9 pm now and she had started running around with Fei at about noon. He chuckled sadly and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Then you were missing for hours and I didn’t know what to think. I was scared you were robbed or kidnapped.” She smiled.

“The first answer was right. Fei stole my purse and I had the location of my uncle’s house on there. So I got scared that the thief might try to rob him later so I chased her down the street and got lost.” He gapped at her. “Are you crazy? You should had gone to your uncles and tried to contact me! That was so reckless and careless and-“

“What like how you throw your life away for Ladybug?” She didn’t have to say this loudly to have an effect. He immediately stopped and stared wide-eyed at her. Against her will, her vision started to blur. “You really need to stop doing that you know. I hate it when you do.” A tear ran down her cheek but Chat brushed it away and held her again. “Well I don’t think I ever want to see you fall off a building again so I’ll try to stop if you do.” She chuckled and buried her face in his shoulder.

“Hey, do you mind if we take a detour home?” He broke the silence a few minutes later and she nodded, allowing him to pick her up and carry her towards a darker part of the city. Unfortunately, Shanghai being as bright as it was, they couldn’t see many stars but all the same, they lay down on a rooftop and tried to find some.

“I like being Chat much better than my civilian life.” The comment came out of nowhere but Marinette still turned to listen.

“One of the many joys of being me, is a tightly packed schedule and endless amounts of responsibility. Many people regard me as this kind of statue that has to stay highly polished at all times. I think I’m too good at leaving that impression on people, my first girlfriend had flat out rejected me when I showed her my silly side. She said I was acting like a clown and that it wasn’t who I really was.” He had never told Ladybug any of this, she hoped that he wouldn’t hit too close to home.

“Sometimes I think that I don’t know who I am anymore. I know that I feel happy being funny and when I protect people, but,” he turned to look at her. His face was soft. “Right now is different.” She was confused. “Different how?” She questioned.

“It’s a good different. I know it’s kind of random but I just wanted you to know that, I feel like myself right now, which isn’t something I get to feel often. So thank you.” He smiled.

She would be lying if she said that her heart wasn’t doing backflips right now. “That sounds nice, but, why me? I mean, I’m not really anything special or different. I thought that you would be happiest with Ladybug.” He smiled. “I don’t get to hang out Ladybug very often, and when we do hang out, it’s more of a patrol. Everything is work with her, being with her is easy but we don’t really get the chance to just relax and be in each other’s company like this.” He frowned slightly.

“And don’t say you’re nothing special. I don’t really understand it but you have this magnetism that I can’t explain. I’ve seen it before. People are just naturally attracted towards you, I myself feel more attached to you than any other civilian I’ve met, and yes that includes the other superheroes.”

She gaped at him. She never knew how much influence she had on Chat Noir. I mean they’ve only met a few times. “I just, how? We aren’t around each other often. I mean sure you’ve saved me a number of times but other than that one time, we haven’t spent time together.” He shrugged, “I don’t know either. I just get the feeling that you’re someone who I can be myself with.” She smiled. “Well since we’re sharing secrets I might as well share one of mine.

He rolled over and propped himself up on his elbows, smiling down at her expectantly. “Well, there was a boy.” He tilted his head in confusion. “Was a boy?” She nodded. “I’ve liked him for forever but I could never get the words out. I stammer in front of him so much that he thinks everything I say doesn’t make sense.” He smiled. “Well you make sense to me.” She grinned. “Yes well I’ve been trying to get over him for a while now, but every time I see his face I just melt all over again. Not that I don’t want to love him, because I do. He’s one of the best people I know, but I know he’ll never feel the same.”

Chat looked confused again. “How do you know he won’t feel the same way?” She frowned. “Because I’ve always been just a friend to him. He makes that very clear.” Chat’s eyes went wide, but Marinette didn’t know why. “It wouldn’t happen to be Adrien Agreste would it?” Now it was her turn to go wide eyed. “How did you know?” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Uh lucky guess I suppose.” A tinge of pink was prominent under his mask. They needed a change of subject. She sat up and put on her best smile.

“Can I draw you?” His ears perked up. “Uh what?” He blushed again. “Can I draw you?” In what seemed to be a great effort, he screwed up his face and looked at her in a teasing sort of way. “Draw me? Or paint me,” he threw an arm over his forehead and posed in a, supposed to be seductive pose. “Like one of your french girls.” He swooned. She burst out laughing which, she noticed, created a sort of twinkle in his eye. “I mean we are french but I meant just draw you. You know, you pose and I draw you. I could even give you a cool outfit to wear.” He stood up and walked around so he was in front of her.

She crossed her legs and rested the sketch book against her knee. “Ok now strike a pose kitty!” He looked suddenly sheepish but posed like a model worthy of a magazine. She went to work drawing him out in a messy sketch that she could tidy up after. They went through a few poses before she stopped him.

“Hmm yes yes these are great model poses. Now how about a different kind of pose.” His face went ridged. She panicked and waves her arms in front of her. “I mean you don’t have to if you don’t want to, I just want to try to express a different part of your personality.” He walked over and sat down in front of her confused.

“A different part of my personality?” She blinked. “Well yeah, you’re not just some perfect statue are you? Your also a silly cat, and a protective superhero, and a caring person, and a flirt.” He blushed then laughed. “Nice way to end it princess.” She crossed her arms. “Well it’s true, you’re a flirty person. You flirt with people all the time, whether it’s on purpose or not.” He blushed. “Do I really flirt with a lot of people.” She nodded.

He fidgeted a little. “Come on Chat, strike a pose, but not one worthy of fashion weekly.” He screwed up his face in contemplation before standing and apparently coming to a decision. “Ok then, how about the cat!” Then he struck a goofy pose. She laughed and he looked crest fallen for a second before she said, “Yes kitty that’s purrfect.” She started sketching away.

Little did she know. Chat Noir was displaying the biggest grin he had ever produced. A smile so bright, it could rival the blinding lights of Shanghai.

——————————

Thanks for reading.

[krowfics]

A Scare and A Treat

Fandom: MLP:FiM

Ship: Diamond Tiara x Scootaloo, background Sweetie Belle x Apple Bloom

Plot: Scootaloo is a scare actor at a haunted house, her friends and marefriend come to get a good fright but Diamond in unbelievably distracted.

Words: 1807

Notes: Shameless Fanfic Trope AU (you do not need to read anything else in this au to get this), mild description of fake gore effects (blood, injuries, weapons, eye stuff, ect), friendly bickering, scary clowns, kissing, food, barely edited! like i read through it once-

AU stuff: Apple Bloom is nonbinary and uses they/them pronouns, Sweetie and Diamond are close and mess with each other a lot, Scootaloo is punk but it barely shows up in this

FiMfiction

~~~

Sweetie Belle huffed at Apple Bloom's insistent hushing.

"It's all fake, Bloom." she clearly tried for reassuring, perhaps annoyed, but it came out awfully fond, "You know how they're made, your family has a haunt every year."

"Ah know, Sweets but it's different." They argued quietly, "Some of these props are way more realistic. What if they're actually dead ponies?"

"Then something interesting might happen." Diamond Tiara huffed.

The couple blinked over at her then. Some horrid, confused shock on Apple Bloom's face and mild but unimpressed disgust on Sweetie Belle's.

Diamond rolled her eyes, "Did you forget I was here again?"

Apple Bloom opened her mouth, "No-"

"You make it so easy to." Sweetie stated. The boujee appearance lasted for a few seconds before she snickered.

"Yeah yeah," Diamond laughed back, "In my defense, you're too distracted to even see the blood dripping down the walls let alone your lonesome third wheel."

"And what a pretty distraction they are." Sweetie Belle deliberately glanced at her partner, who flushed an amusing shade of red.

"Gross." Diamond stated.

"Like you're gonna be much better."

A small part of Diamond wanted to argue, but she wasn't entirely sure the unicorn was wrong.

Logically, she should be scared, or atleast unsettled, this haunted house was far more realistic and gruesome than the Apple family's maze ever is. It was next to impossible to figure out where the scare actors would jump out from, even harder to tell which bodies were fake and which were costumed ponies lying in wait.

Diamond did get a little startled the few times somepony thought to be inanimate suddenly snarled at her, but it wasn't true fear and it left her after a moment with a little wave to the actor with an awkward smile and she kept on her way.

She wasn't bored. She wasn't. She was just playing it off as that. She liked horror movies, or rather she liked watching horror movies with her marefreind clinging to her. The other fully loved to let herself be scared, the adrenaline junky that she is, despite the fact that none of this stuff really bothered her. If it did, Scootaloo probably wouldn't be a scare actor herself.

And that's why the trio was there and not at the Apple family's hay maze, though they’d probably trott through it later. Partly because they were curious to see a more mature haunted house, mostly because Scootaloo was so unbelievably excited to be a scare actor here that her friends and marefriend had to come to see her. Or be scared by her, judging by the couples reactions thus far.

So Diamond was not bored, but she might have been distracted. She hadn't seen Scootaloo all day, both busy with their costumes. Diamond wasn't going to wear anything but Scootaloo, Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and even Silver Spoon insisted she should. Though Silvey's vote shouldn't count considering she shot down the invite to come like it had attacked her.

Under the peer pressure, Diamond fished out some face & coat paint and some old, fluffy, black boots. Painting whiskers on her face and her ears black, and wearing those shoes, she was the laziest excuse for a black cat costume. She was still cute, mind you, but there was a clear difference in effort put in when she stood next to the matching skeleton couple who went all out for the holiday.

Diamond tried to focus on the props and decorations, trying to distract herself from the foal-like excitement of seeing her marefriend, and attempting to distract herself from the cuddly couple. Though it was admittedly amusing to see Sweetie Belle going from calm and collected, trying to help the other relax, only to hear her scream just as loud as Apple Bloom when an undead clown came towards them.

Diamond pulled her attention away from a blood splattered design on the wall when she realized the clown was attempting to scare her now. She blinked, feeling a bit bad that she really wasn't frightened despite the admittedly unsettling eye dangling from it's socket.

"Um, nice eye effect." she said before trotting right passed him to continue on.

It was stupid to be so preoccupied with her own longing. So she hadn't seen Scootaloo all day, she had gone on longer before, it was no big deal. Except Scootaloo kissed her goodbye last night, after spending at least an hour adorably rambling on about this haunted house, kissing her like that was just how dating ponies said goodbye, because it was. Like she was going to kiss her like that every time they parted ways, leaving Diamond dazed and giddy like some love sick fool.

Judging by her current distraction, that seemed to be an apt description.

Diamond wanted to kiss her again. The moment she saw her, no matter what dramatic makeup she has on. She wouldn’t, special effect make up did not seem like it would lend well to smashing their faces together, and also Scootaloo was at work and Diamond was fairly certain Scootaloo would be at least a little peeved if she ruined this for her. Besides, there was a donut and apple cider stand outside that Scootaloo said she could wait at until the pegasus got off work and out of costume.

The filly stopped suddenly, nearly walking right into another scare actor. “Sorry.” She blurted, stepping back.

The trio had been confronted by three ponies, looking to be in varying levels of rotten and dead, still all clowns for some reason. The clearly most frightening one was in the middle. A fake mouth filled with monstrous teeth looked akin to a gash across her face, she wore colored contacts making one eye fully black and the other completely white. She was covered in spikes, presumably because nopony could convince her to dress any less punk rock even when she was literally dressed as a messed up version of a children’s entertainer. And there was quite a bit of blood, and a hacksaw covered in more blood. 

It was impressive and terrifying. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle had screamed and outright looked like they were going to turn tail and run. Diamond’s chest felt like it had been punched out of air.

“Hi, Loo.” She said softly, completely by accident.

Scootaloo snapped her gaze toward her, laughing, in a monstrous laugh that Diamond had helped her practice for so really, who was she fooling? 

“Um- Nice make up, all of you.” She glanced at the other two, “Very scary.”

One of the other ponies growled, jumping forward in an over exaggerated movement, sending the couple screeching in fear. 

Scootaloo stalked forward threateningly. Inches away from her face, Diamond's heart stuttered. She just stared into the others mismatched eyes, trying desperately to not think of a dream scenario where Scootaloo is out of costume pushing her against a wall with her gaze alone.

Scootaloo ended her display with a minute lunge of the saw and a snarl that turned into a hacking laugh.

"I'll uh- see you later, Loo." Diamond said numbly, walking passed the performers.

They were all quiet as they walked. 

"Sweet Celestia, I can't believe you." Sweetie laughed suddenly.

"Shut it, Sweetie!" Diamond screeched, face flushing.

"And you thought we were bad-"

"At least, I wasn't screaming my lungs out."

"Hey!" Apple Bloom cut it, "The make up was very convincing." 

"Of what? My marefreind being a clown?"

Sweetie shrugged, "I actually think they all had the most dramatic costumes in the whole haunt. Hence that." She nodded to the door ahead, "They were the grand finally."

Diamond pushed the door open, blinking blearily at the light from outside. There were a few haunt actors strewn about, some bales of hay arranged for seating areas, and that cider stand probably run by one of Apple Bloom's cousins.

"Really, did none of that scare ya?" Apple Bloom asked.

"I was distracted." Diamond defended.

Sweetie laughed again, "You’re hopeless."

Diamond looked over at them, the couples sides pressed together, leaning on each other. "Pot meet kettle."

Sweetie stuck her tongue out then. Diamond rolled her eyes with a chuckle and trotted over to get something from the stand.

The three waited for a while over donuts and cider. Diamond was right, the pony running the stand had been one of Apple Bloom's cousins. He and Apple Bloom had talked for a bit as Diamond and Sweetie found someplace to sit, which wasn't hard being that it was still early in the evening and the real crowds didn't come until after sunset.

Once Apple Bloom came over, treats in tow and chattering away about their cousin, the pair started properly cuddling. The earth pony tucked themself into Sweetie's side and Sweetie in turn rested her muzzle in their mane.

Diamond caught Sweetie's eye and fake gagged at their cuteness. Sweetie squinted at her teasingly before refocusing on her partner. Diamond tried to focus on her friend speaking, she really did, but her mind kept going to the filly in gory clown makeup.

Her eyes snapped to the distance when she saw a few ponies stepping out of a door. A few moments later and a mental mane peaks out from behind it. Scootaloo was laughing at something one of her co-workers said, she then waved goodbye to them and started her trot to the cider stand.

Diamond was standing before she knew it. Distantly, she was aware that she was being pathetic but she couldn't help trotting over and meeting Scootaloo halfway despite the fact that Apple Bloom was in the middle of their sentence.

"Hey, D." Scootaloo said when they’re stopped in front of each other, "You didn't seem very scared." She laughed a bit.

"I was distracted." Diamond moved forward to lean her head against the other’s shoulder.

"By what? Bloody marefriend not enough for you?" Scootaloo's hoof came to rest on Diamond's mane.

"I missed you." she admitted.

"We saw each other last night?"

Diamond groaned, "I know. I'm being dumb, you were scary, I've just spent all day wanting to kiss you and I can't think about anything else." she spat.

"Oh, uh," Scootaloo coughed, "That- Can be arranged."

Diamond lifted her head with determination and leaned in quickly. Scootaloo made a startled little noise but she softened, hoof moving to cradle the other's jaw. Diamond finally relaxed with the familiar lips slotted against her own, she sighed in what could only be described as relief.

A loud ‘woop’ was heard from behind the pegasus, she broke away quickly to yell over her shoulder, "Biscuit! I swear to Celestia!"

Diamond really couldn't help the hysterical giggles she broke into at that, and when Scootaloo's gaze turned back to her soft and loving, she really didn't feel all that bad.

~~~

you don’t understand. I wasnt going to write anything for halloween because i was focusing on a sander sides fic for Logan’s birthday, and in my procrastination of that, this morning i woke up and started writing this.

i’ve had a busy day on top of it, i cant believe ive finished this.. happy nightmare night every pony!!! im gonna go sleep now