* Clown brainrot in a specific part of my dome today and I’m reminded I LOVE pierrots so much

Great Minds (and Kind Hearts) Think Alike

Written as a gift for my sweet friend @sketchy-panda to celebrate a bunch of happy things in her life, as well as just because she's awesome. Inspired by this adorable piece of her art.

During a rooftop discussion about superhero merch while relaxing after patrol, Ladybug and Chat Noir each decide to share their favorite items with their partner. What results is an impromptu gift exchange that just might open the door to a whole lot more.

Read it on Ao3 here.

"My parents put us on the Christmas tree last year, Kitty! I had to see myself in the living room every day."

He bumps her shoulder with his. "And me, apparently."

"Yes, but your ornament was cute!" She flails her arms comically and he tries not to focus too much on the fact that she called his likeness cute. "Mine didn't even look like me."

"Would you have liked it better if it had?"

"That's not what I..." Ladybug scowls, but there's no real heat in her expression or her voice. "It was just weird."

"No, the baby onesie that I saw on an actual baby that said 'Meow, My Lady' was weird," Chat mutters. "I didn't even know any civilians had ever heard me say that."

Ladybug's surprised laughter rings out across the rooftop they're perched on tonight, loud enough to be heard from any nearby open window until she muffles the sound with her hand over her mouth. "And whose fault is that, you tomcat?" she asks through her remaining giggles.

He tries to pout, but her laughter is contagious and his smile breaks through. He chooses to ignore the jab at his vain attempts at flirting. Wooing is difficult business.

"The baby was cute, though. I had to take a picture with him."

"You had to?"

He shrugs. "That's a very small request, Bugaboo. I've encountered way worse. A few pictures? I don't mind."

She stares at him for a long moment, something unreadable in her gaze, before looking back over the horizon. "Have you ever bought any Chat Noir merch? You strike me as the kind of guy to have a bookshelf full of action figures."

He is the kind of guy to have a bookshelf full of action figures, and he definitely does, but he thinks of the drawer in his closet that's full of red and black, reminders of his beloved partner. There are far fewer items in black and green.

"I...have a few things. The action figures of us are really cool, actually. Didn't you always want to be immortalized in plastic as a kid?"

"Can't say I did, Minou." She bumps his shoulder this time. "I'll bet you had your supersuit all planned in your head already, didn't you?"

Not quite, but only because he never imagined himself as a cat-themed superhero. He has no intention of ever divulging the fact that his first real transformation sequence was anything but random. That secret is between him and Plagg, and he's not telling. Plagg probably will, but that's a problem for future Adrien.

She laughs again. "I'll take your silence as a 'yes'."

"I'll have you know, My Lady, that I have a carefully curated display of collectibles that are very valuable. And no, this—" he gestures from his cat ears to his steel toes, "was all spontaneous. Can't help it if I've got cat class and I've got cat style."

Ladybug shoots him a deadpan look that dissolves into giggles once more when he wiggles his eyebrows.

Success. He loves to hear his partner laugh, loves to make to his partner laugh. These are moments he wouldn't trade for the world.

"Well," she finally says after her laugher subsides, "the Chat Noir doll I saw in the market did not have cat style, so I made my own."

"Really?" His voice is soft with wonder.

"Yep! And a Ladybug doll, too." She casts him a sidelong grin. "They're a duo, you know. I couldn't have Chat without his Lady, could I?"

He wills himself not to cry. It takes three blinks and one shaky breath before he can respond. "You made them? Yourself?"

"Sure. It's not hard. All it takes is felt and thread and buttons for eyes. They're simple, but—" she shrugs, "I think they're pretty cute."

"Wow," he breathes. "You really are amazing, Bugaboo. They sound incredible."

His Lady seems to amaze him anew with each revelation she allows. He could count on one hand the things he knows about her, really knows, and those facts are tucked away and treasured. She's a whiz at video games. She babysits. She has a loving family. She listens to Jagged Stone. She loves animals.

"Thank you, Minou," she says softly, as the barest hint of a blush spreads to her cheeks beneath her mask.

His heart beats a little faster. His tongue feels heavier. He falls just a tiny bit more in love with her.

Ladybug fills the silence again. "Better than mass-produced action figures, for sure. More cuddle-able!"

That startles a laugh from him. "Is that a word?"

"It is now." She shrugs, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"I'm telling you, Bug, those action figures are cool. I can't believe you don't have a set."

"Guess I need to go shopping."

"Yup," he responds with a decisive nod.

When they make eye contact, it sets off another giggle fit, Ladybug's shoulders shaking with mirth and Chat having to wipe the tears from his eyes. It's not even that funny, but it doesn't have to be.

Paris is quiet tonight, and his heart is light as he relaxes against the rooftop and laughs with his best friend.

*****

Four days later, when they meet up for patrol again, Chat Noir is surprised when his partner joins him carrying a gift-wrapped box. Especially since he himself is hiding a gift bag behind his back.

He sweeps into a bow as she approaches, straightening with an exaggerated wink. "Something for me-ow?"

Her expression morphs into one of longsuffering annoyance. "Well, it was, but I'm reconsidering."

"You wouldn't!" He gasps, one hand clutching his chest over his heart.

Her lips twitch into the beginning of a smile and soon the stillness of the nighttime rooftop is broken by their shared laughter again.

"For you, Chaton," she finally says with a grin, holding out the box.

He produces the gift bag from behind his back and presents it to her, the tissue paper fluttering in the night air. Her eyes widen with delight, and his heart sings.

The handoff is a quiet affair, a hushed silence of surprise settling over the moment as they sit cross-legged, facing each other.

Even the box is beautiful, he notes, wrapped in shiny black paper and adorned by a giant bow of vivid green with black paw prints. He knows, of course, what's in the bag she's holding in her hands. Could this box contain...? He doesn't dare to dream.

He looks up and nods at the bag. "Go ahead, Bug."

The tissue paper rustles as she removes it, trapping it under her foot to keep it from drifting away on the breeze. She takes one look inside, sees the label on the top of the box within, and bursts into laughter. "You didn't!"

Chat grins. "I did."

She pulls out the box to take a closer look. There are several options when it comes to Ladybug and Chat Noir collectible figurines, but this one is his particular favorite. They're sold separately, but he's always been partial to the 1st Anniversary Special Partners Edition, boxed together as a pair and made to wield his baton in his left hand and her yo-yo in her right, leaving them free to hold hands in the middle. Which the figurines' hands are molded to do, and how they're currently posed in the box. They can also stand alone, but there's just something special about the fact that joined hands are an option.

"Okay, Kitty, you were right. They really are cool." She points at the Ladybug figure. "This looks so much better than that Christmas ornament!" Squinting at the box to examine his figurine, she suddenly snorts a laugh. "Your hair looks like a bunch of bananas!"

"Hey!" He pouts, but he knows she's right. When he bought his own set last year, Plagg had made the same observation and laughed so hard he nearly choked on his cheese. He then proceeded to call him Bananoir for days, until Adrien threatened him with a month of Velveeta. The ribbing didn't really bother him that much - honestly, he had to concede the resemblance - because it was an action figure...of himself. No matter how many were produced, that fact would never not be incredible, and no amount of banana hair or cat god snark could diminish his excitement.

"Oh, Chaton, I'm just teasing. I love them." She beams at him, cradling the box with both hands. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome, LB. I just...I thought it would be fun."

"Great minds think alike, it seems. Your turn!"

He glances down at the box in his lap and back at his partner. Her smile is bright, but her eyes betray a nervous anticipation.

"Bug, you know I'm going to love whatever this is, right?"

"I hope so. I made them myself."

His heart in his throat, he carefully slips the ribbon from the box and slices the paper with his claws. He can barely breathe as he lifts the lid.

His hunch (his dream) is confirmed when he finally sees the contents of the box. Nestled in a bed of tissue paper, side by side, are two handmade plush dolls, opposite in configuration to the action figures but with their soft little hands touching in the center just the same. Tears spring to his eyes unbidden, and he wipes them away quickly, partially out of embarrassment but mostly because he wants to see every detail with clarity.

The seams are pristine, the limbs symmetrical; the dolls are simple, but crafted with a skilled, sure hand. He picks up the Ladybug doll first, lifting it reverently from the box. Red felt with carefully-painted black spots form the doll's body, and her little black button eyes gaze up at him from a matching spotted mask. A sweet smile is the only other adornment on her face, but the doll is perfect without anything else. This is his beloved partner, created by his beloved partner herself. That alone is perfection to him.

He returns the Ladybug doll to the box and shifts his attention to his own likeness, resolutely ignoring the lump in his throat.

Equal in craftsmanship, the felt Chat Noir in his hands smiles the same sweet smile and looks at him with shiny button eyes from a black domino mask. Perched on his blond felt hair are two black cat ears, and a real bell is sewn at his neck. He gives the doll a gentle shake and the golden bell rings with a jaunty jingle. It's adorable.

Chat Noir is helpless to the grin that lights his face, looking up from the doll to his partner just in time to see that same joy reflected back in her own dawning smile. Warmth suffuses his chest, elation and love and an overwhelming gratefulness bursting firework-bright and making his breath catch.

He has never received such a heartfelt gift in his life. This eclipses the fine blue cashmere scarf his father gave him on his fourteenth birthday, folded in his closet and placed where he can see it every day. It's a treasure to him, and it always will be. But this, handmade just for him with obvious care by the person he loves most in the world? Nothing could come close.

"I don't know what to say, LB," he begins once he can finally speak, "They're...they're amazing. Adorable. Perfect." He takes a deep breath. "I'm fumbling this, but...thank you isn't enough."

Ladybug reaches out to place her hand on his knee. Even through two supersuits, the contact sends a shiver up his spine. Her expression is one of warm relief, clearly pleased with his reaction. "Thank you is more than enough, Kitty. It was nothing."

"Nothing?" he splutters. "These are far from nothing!"

"Oh, Minou," she laughs. "I meant that it was my pleasure. It wasn't difficult, but even if it was, you're worth it."

Do. Not. Cry. He thinks. He's been fighting tears since she handed him the box. Once he gets home, he's absolutely going to give in and sob while clutching them to his chest. He's man enough to admit that...to himself.

He takes several deep breaths and swallows against the lump in his throat as he arranges the dolls back in their tissue paper nest, making sure their hands are touching before replacing the lid on the box.

"Thank you, Ladybug," he says softly. "I love them. Us."

She pats the box still held on her lap. "And I love this version of us, too. Thank you for making sure I have the coolest action figures in Paris." After placing the box and the tissue paper back inside the gift bag, Ladybug stands and offers her hand to Chat to help him up. "Now, let's go stow these treasures and patrol. Last one to Sacre-Cœur has to buy the other an ice cream cone."

Still clutching the gift box under one arm, he watches her throw out her yo-yo to snag a distant chimney before she zips off with a giggle. He grins, shakes his head, and reaches behind him for his baton.

"That's my bug," he murmurs to himself, before setting off for home to secure the gift safely.

In a few minutes he'll rejoin his partner in a merry chase across the rooftops. He hopes the night remains quiet.

Chat Noir can't wait to buy ice cream for his Lady.

Honey 7

It’s been a while. I won’t lie and say that I didn’t have severe writer’s block. Still don’t like how this turned out. But it’s something. 

 “I’ve brought reinforcements,” Terra says, throwing her hands in the air enthusiastically. Raven breezes past her and places her bag of crystals and herbs onto the table.

“To our exposed tower,” Raven drones, emptying her bag one crystal at a time. Garfield bites at a hangnail on his thumb.

“Uh...you’re welcome,” Terra says, head tilting to the side and hands falling limply at her sides. Raven glances at Terra briefly, then returns her attention back to the stones. It’s silent for a few moments. Garfield sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. Terra and Raven toed the line between friends and enemies constantly. They cared about each other deeply but also knew exactly what to say to push each other’s buttons. There was no telling how they’d interact with each other at any given time.

  “Thank you Terra,” he says, placing a hand on his girlfriend’s back. She shoots him a loose, irritated smile. 

“You don’t need to thank me,” Terra says, directing her words at the sorceress across from her. Raven’s head is turned down.

“Thank you for thinking of us Terra. I just don’t know if this is an instance where there is strength in numbers or whether adding members to our team multiplies our vulnerabilities.”

Garfield places his hands on Terra’s tight shoulders, feeling the air around everyone rising in temperature. 

“Mmhhhm, I get it,” Terra says, sucking her lips into her mouth in a way that suggests she did not, in fact, ‘get it.’ “Guess I was just worried when Garfield called me in the middle of the night to tell me that your little boyfriend turned him into a literal fish out of water.”

“Okay!” Garfield says, clapping his hands at the same time Raven’s head snaps up at Terra. “Terra and Aqualad are here. Nothing we can do about that now.”

“Right,” Raven says, keeping eye contact with Terra for a few beats. She puckers her lips, and looks blankly at the wall behind them. “Truthfully, both of your powers will be very useful to us.”

“How so?” Terra asks. Garfield tries not to make his relief visible when he notes that a lot of the edge in both of their voices has been softened.

“I’ll explain but first-” Raven says, waving her hands until there is a circle of white gemstones around the group. “Demons can’t pass a barrier of quartz.”  

“Right,” Terra says, rocking on her heels and eyeing the little rocks skeptically. “So how can we help.”

“Incantations don’t really have a shelf life. They are immediate solutions to immediate problems. Spells and curses work best when they are bound to something tangible. Either a person or something earthen. It’s the reason why voodoo dolls are usually made of clay. And the reason for these,” Raven says, gesturing to the multi colored crystals in front of them. “And water-”

“Is a purifying element,” Aqualad finishes for Raven, playing with a chunk of amethyst. He looks around at the team’s expectant faces. “Ever watch the Wizards of Oz? Water melts the witch.”

“Such a marvelous movie!” Starfire exclaims at the same time Garfield blurts-

“Raven takes showers though.”

He immediately buries his forehead into Terra’s hair. Not the best time to sound like I think about Raven showering. He thinks to himself, clenching his eyes tight. He feels his back muscles tighten when he hears Garth chuckle.

“The Wizard of Oz is an exaggeration of the actual truth,” Garth says.

“Being?” Nightwing asks. Aqualad looks at Raven to see if she wants to explain. Raven shrugs.

“You were very eager to explain a few moments ago,” she says, eyebrow arched. Garth chuckles, running a hand through his jet black locks. “Water is considered pure. Dark magic and dark energy travels through it at a much slower rate. It’s why people use water in baptisms and exorcisms. It’s meant to cleanse.”

“Is there anything this guy doesn’t know about?” Garfield mumbles under his breath into Terra’s hair. 

“I’m not great at art history,” Aqualad says. Garfield makes a point to look at Garth’s face when he rolls his eyes.

“So our plan is to have Aqualad throw buckets of water on your brothers?” Garfield asks.

“Our plan-” Raven narrows her eyes at Changeling. “Is to trap my three eldest brothers in crystal cages and detach their spirits from their corporeal forms.” 

“That sounds-” Cyborg starts, scratching at his head. 

“Like murder,” Nightwing finishes. Starfire cringes, placing her fingers on her lips. She looks to Nightwing, then to Raven.

“It’s not,” Raven says, sighing when Nightwing doesn’t immediately relax. “It’s not. My brothers are higher order demons. Their spirits cannot be destroyed.”

Nightwing crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Really Nightwing, do you honestly think we are capable of removing sin from the world?” Raven asks. One of her eyes twitches. 

Raven looks around to her teammates who say nothing. “The answer is a very very clear ‘no.’ My brothers need to exist.”

“The world needs balance,” Aqualad says. Raven nods at him. 

“Something it will not have if my father is released. Which is why we need to separate my brothers’ spirits from their bodies and trap them in clay figurines. This will make it nearly impossible for them to communicate their plans with each other. It will solve our problems for at least another decade.”

“And their bodies?” Nightwing asks. Raven feels her skin prickle at the sharp accusation.

“Are just that,” she replies smoothly. “Bodies. Their bodies only serve as conduits for their immortal spirits. Trigon will eventually find another human woman to manipulate and seduce and my brothers will have a new conduit.”  

“We need to think of another way,” Nightwing bristles, pounding his fist into his hand.  Raven looks at his fist in his hand.

“There is no other way.”

“We can’t just murd-”

“This is not murde-”

“Then why does your plan end with six lifeless bodies. Your brothers have human mothers. They are human.”

“No Nightwing...there is absolutely nothing human about my brothers. If you knew what they were capable of, you would know that. With certainty.” 

“Trigon made them the same way he made you.”

The words shouldn’t have had as much force as they did but Garfield finds himself taking a step back. He can hear everyone’s breath catch in their throat at the same time. Garfield notices Raven’s shoulders shift, almost as if she’s accommodating the weight of the words Nightwing just said. Besides that, she is frozen in place.  She does not look up. She does not acknowledge what was said. Nightwing’s frowning, his fingers twitching against his thighs. It looks like he’s torn between wanting to say something and wanting to stand firm. He doesn’t get the chance to make the decision because Raven turns around, her cloak swirling around her ankles. She starts moving towards the common room doors.

Then suddenly she yelps in a way that makes Garfield’s ears ring. One second she’s surrounded by shocking white light and the next she’s being propelled backwards, forcefully and quickly, into the sofa. Garfield can hear the impact as her back hits the wooden structure underneath the cushions. He winces. He and Starfire are by her side immediately. Nightwing runs in front of her, bo staff gripped tightly in his hand. His eyes are sharp as he looks around the common room for the intruder.

“My brothers aren’t here,” Raven says, wincing a little as Starfire helps her to sit up. Nightwing turns around, eyebrows crinkled. Raven sighs. 

“Star could you-” Raven pauses. Garfield looks down as her throat moves when she swallows deeply and silently. “Could you move one of those crystals?”

And understanding falls over Garfield like an itchy sweater.

“Demons can’t pass through a ring of quartz,” Raven mumbles, looking down. Garfield feels fingers tighten around his heart as Nightwing’s last words are validated. Trigon made them the same way he made you. He wonders how many therapy sessions he himself would need to work through that idea. Aqualad moves to the quartz quickly and tosses the gem across the room.

“You’ll have to-” Raven clears her throat, and she hasn’t looked back up again. “You’ll have to put it back when I leave.”

“Listen Raven-” Nightwing starts.

“I’ll be back,” Raven says, rushing to the roof. Garfield presses his lips firmly together and runs a hand through his hair. No one moves for a couple minutes.

“So...what do we do now?” Terra asks. Garfield rubs the back of his neck. The whole team looks to Nightwing. His face and body are a mix of hard angles as he looks to the doors Raven left out of. His lips a straight line. His shoulders at perfect right angles with his neck. His jaw, somehow even more chiseled. Still Garfield can see traces of regret behind his statuesque frame. Realizing they wouldn’t be getting anything useful from him, Starfire, Cyborg and Changeling look between each other.

“You’re up grass stain,” Cyborg says, drumming his mechanical fingers against his chest. Garfield gapes at him.

“Up for what?”

“You gotta bring her back down,” Cyborg says, as if it’s that simple. Garfield places both hands on his head.

“Bro, what if she’s meditating?”

“Her brothers can attack at any time. We have to prioritize this,” Cyborg says, arms crossed over his chest. Garfield looks towards Terra who has started up a conversation with Aqualad since Raven’s departure. He leans towards his friend.

“Do you really think I am the best person to talk to her about this right now?” Garfield whispers, his voice coming out like little hisses between his tight lips. Cyborg waves him off.

“Her brother was obviously trying to throw you two off your game earlier,” Cyborg shrugs. Garfield crosses his arms across his chest and resists stomping his foot.

“Seriously? Why does everyone keep saying it’s obvious? What am I? Chopped liver.” 

“Of course not friend,” Starfire says, rubbing her hand back and forth over his shoulder. 

“You know you’re the only one who can talk to her when she’s on that roof.”

“That’s not true!” Garfield exclaims. Cyborg presses his lips together and tilts his head from left and right as if contemplating that sentence.

“Okay, we could all probably  reach out to her but you’re usually the only one ballsy enough to do it. She’ll be expecting you.” 

“Well it’s not gonna be me this time,” Garfield says, fingers digging into his elbows. It was awkward enough in the elevator. 

Garfield stares at Cyborg. 

And Cyborg stares at Garfield.

And Starfire stands to the side looking between both of them.

And five minutes later Garfield finds himself on the roof of the tower, the door closing softly behind him. 

Garfield curses and silently prays he’s not interrupting time she needs for herself. Raven’s knees are clutched to her chest, the soft wind is blowing strands of her hair backwards. He’s pondering how to approach her when a strand of her hair catches the light. All together her hair is such a dark purple that it’s almost black but when the strands are separated it’s a plum color. It’s the same color of the plums his mom used to bring him in Africa. They were always so fat and juicy. Garfield licks his lips.

“Are you going to stand there all day?” Raven asks, not bothering to look back at him.

“Was trying to avoid getting thrown off the roof,” Garfield says, placing his hands in his pockets and leaning against the door. Raven finally looks back, and the light is hitting her in a way that tints half her face golden. 

“Haven’t thrown you off the roof, or anywhere for that matter, in years.”

“That’s-” Not true, he wants to say but then he thinks about it. She hasn’t used her powers on him in a while.

“Fair enough,” he says, and walks towards her. He tilts his chin to the spot next to her. “Mind if I sit?”

“It’s not my roof,” Raven shrugs. Garfield presses his lips together tightly but sits down next to her anyways. He mirrors her position, bringing his knees to his chest. He looks out at the glittering water.

“You think my plan is murder?” Raven asks. 

“Don’t think you’re capable of murder,” Garfield says, watching a bird jump around at the shore line. They let the sound of the waves crash over their conversation for a few moments.

“But I’m not comfortable with your plan,” he says and turns his head to look her in the eyes. “And I’m not sure the rest of the team is either.” 

Raven’s lips remain frustratingly straight. Garfield doesn’t break eye contact.

“There’s not another option.” Garfield shakes his head.

“There’s always another option.”

A particular hard wave crashes against the shore. Raven looks away to look at it.

“They won’t hesitate to kill any of you if given the option,” Raven says in a low voice. Garfield watches as she brushes a strand of hair away from her face then looks away again. 

“It’s usually a hazard of the job,” Garfield says, leaning his back against the roof and looking up at the clouds above their heads. Raven looks back at him from her seated position the sunlight behind her is making the edges of her hair glow.

“If your lives are in danger I’m going through with it regardless of what Nightwing, or anyone, thinks.”

Garfield sticks his palm underneath his head and juts his bottom lip out in thought.

“You know Nightwing didn’t mean to insult you.”

“Doesn’t mean I wasn’t.”

Garfield hums. 

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“You don’t have to apologize for Nightwing.”

 “Well yeah but I meant for making things uncomfortable in the elevator and for being so crude.”

“My brother made them uncomfortable,” Raven says, getting up from her seat.

“So you admit it was uncomfortable?” Garfield asks, grinning. He shields his eyes with his hand so he can get a better look at her face. She gives him a deadpan expression, then juts her chin towards the entrance to the Tower.

“Let’s get back inside.” 

Garfield walks in front of Raven once they get off the elevator to the common room and quickly removes the stone just as she’s about to cross the barrier.

“Okay, let’s say my plan is murder. Let’s say that that is something that you think I am capable of-” Raven begins. Garfield cringes. Cyborg shoots him a look.

“Hey! I got her back downstairs,” Garfield says, hands up in front of him.

“Raven-” Nightwing says through a sigh. She puts a hand up.

“Let’s say my brothers, who have stood behind every person who has done any sickening thing in this world, are like me. Let’s say these men who have raped, murdered, robbed, are anything like me-”

“Your brothers are nothing like you. I misspoke-”’

Raven puts her hand up again. “What is your plan?”

“We keep them in a similar room to the one we kept you in on your sixteenth birthday.” 

Raven purses her lips. “I don’t know what you are expecting from this experiment but I would be remiss not to remind you that my brothers’ entire identities are tied to how many people they can make fall from grace,” Raven pauses, then sighs. “But I admire your infallible, perhaps misplaced, hope that there is something good even in the depths of Hell...maybe I’m too close to the situation to see properly. I am not too proud to admit that.” 

She shakes her head. “I trust your gut Nightwing. It hasn’t led us astray yet. If you think that we can do this some other way. If you are convinced-” Raven hesitates, biting her lip. She looks Nightwing in the eyes. “I have followed you blindly to the ends of the Earth before.”

Nightwing lets those words settle on his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to say that you are anything like your brothers. But maybe-” Nightwing pauses. He places a hand on Raven’s shoulders. “Maybe they are, even if only a little bit, like you. Anyone who has the potential to be like you should be given the chance.”

“So be it,” Raven says, bowing her head, and moves to the table fingering her crystals.  

“You’ll all have to wear these. It will protect you from demonic influence.”

“I think we are forgetting one dragon sized problem,” Cyborg says.

“I’ll worry about Malchior,” Raven says. Garfield clears his throat.

“Actually Rae-” he begins. Raven looks up at him and he messes with the collar of his uniform. “I think I can help with Malchior.”

“Unless you’ve been hiding your knowledge of archaic magic-” Garfield rolls his eyes. 

“I think I can turn into a dragon,” he interrupts. She stutters and he has to stop himself from grinning.

“You can- I- what?” 

“Why haven’t you told me this baby?” Terra asks. Garfield shrugs.

“It’s new. I thought I could only turn myself into animals but apparently mythological creatures are not off the table.”

“How did you find this out friend?” Starfire asks, eyes wide and shiny. Garfield blushes and plays with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

“I may have turned into a unicorn.” Cyborg snorts.  Raven has to resist smiling when Garfield’s cheeks tint brown with a blush.

“Why would you-” Terra begins but things start to connect for Raven.

“Jordan,” Raven says in a low voice. Garfield peaks up at her through his lashes. “She loves unicorns.” 

Garfield nods, keeping eye contact with Raven. For once it doesn’t make the air around them too thick to breathe. 

“Well. I’ll have to be at your side at all times. Malchior will not resist an opportunity to change your form again. These crystals will protect you from my brothers but not Malchior’s magic. Aqualad can only be in so many places and he can only provide a temporary barrier. I’m going to have to shield your mind.” 

“Woah. I don’t think that’s safe,” Terra says, standing in front of Garfield with her hands up as if forming a protective barrier around him. “What happens if you get knocked out?”

Raven bites her lip, contemplating this. Garfield moves in front of Terra, his back to Raven.

“Even if I’m not fighting with Malchior directly, I’ll be in the same field. It’s better I’m close to Raven so I have the added protection of the mental shield.” 

“How about you sit this one out?” Terra asks, hesitantly, in a voice so low that Raven was sure Terra already knew the answer would be ‘no’ before she even asked the question. Garfield, in typical Garfield fashion, does not get defensive. He chuckles and grips his girlfriend’s shoulders lightly.

“Can superheroes do that now?” he directs the question to her but then swirls around to his teammates. “Cause let me tell you, there are about a million battles with Plasmus that I would’ve sat out.” 

Terra sighs. 

“We’ll make sure Aqualad is by us too. That way if I get knocked out, he can put up a barrier quickly and Garfield can escape somewhere.” 

“I want to be by you too,” Terra says and Nightwing immediately shakes his head.

“We’ll need at least four of us to fight the six brothers.”

“Four brothers,” Raven corrects.

“Four?” Starfire asks. “But there are seven sins?”

“My brothers weren’t all born in the same year. Currently sloth is an infant and Greed is around 2.”

“What?” Cyborg asks. Raven shrugs.

“Many women get a feeling about how evil my father is before he can impregnate them. Gluttony is only eight years old but I still wouldn’t underestimate him.”

“So Envy, Wrath and Lust are the only fully grown adults?” 

Raven nods. 

“So-”

Red lights swallow up the common room. Raven curses, quickly using her powers to string fragments of crystals around her teammates' necks. 

“We don’t have time. Remember, the goal is to get them in crystal cages.”

Rating: G

Summary: While Marinette is helping Adrien and the boys clean up after the guys-only party, she accidentally crashes a kwamis-only party. (Party Crasher identity reveal fic)

Word Count: 3361

Notes: I haven’t written one of these in a while, but it was for an anon from the episode-divergent identity reveal fic requests.  I’ll probably still keep doing these periodically, but I still have a few mlbforblm commissions/prizes to finish up, so it might be a while.

XXX

“I can put those up!”  Marinette offered quickly as Adrien scooped up a pile of costumes.  It was hard to see so much evidence of the party she’d been locked out of, but she was determined to make the most of it now.

She’d gotten to spend time with Adrien in the end.  Hopefully next time she could do it without lying, but she couldn’t pretend she regretted it.

He shot her one of his award-winning smiles, the ones that made her knees weak.  “Thanks, Marinette.  You can just leave them in the closet. I’ll fold them later.”

“No problem!”  

She accepted the bundle of sequins and silk without a stutter.  It was hard to feel embarrassed when he’d seen her dressed as “Marino” and still wanted her around.

He’d seen her in her pajamas, bought her constipation medicine, let her sleep on his shoulder, and most recently, watched her dance to Station Nation as a mustachioed biker.  If all of that hadn’t convinced him she was completely insane, maybe he really could like her.

That thought had her walking on clouds as she rearranged the pile of clothes in her arms to open the closet.

When she turned the handle, the clothes promptly fell to the ground.

“Go, go, go, go!”  Kaalki was chanting as Plagg sprayed whipped cream into Xuppu’s mouth.  It would’ve been ridiculous enough even if they weren’t inside Adrien’s closet.

But they were.  Why?  How?  If anyone else had seen them here—!

Sass hissed at the others, trying to grab their attention.  Kaalki kept chanting until Marinette quietly shut the door behind her, leaving them in the dim lights rimming the top shelves.

“Marinette.”  Sass touched his arms together and bowed his head respectfully.  

“What’s going on?”  She finally demanded.  “I swear, Plagg, if you crashed Adrien’s party because you wanted cheese again—” 

“Y-yeah!”  Plagg tried to hide the whipped cream behind his back.  Considering the can was twice his height, it didn’t do much good.  “You know me.  Can’t resist a good wedge of Camembert.  I already ate it all though, so don’t expect me to share!”

Tikki flew out of Marinette’s purse.  Her antennae twitched with anger.

“You remember what happened last time you went across Paris to steal cheese!  You got us all captured by a supervillain!”

“Relax, sugarcube!  Hawkmoth already crashed this party once.  He won’t think to do it again.  Besides, Master Fu’s close enough to help if anything went wrong.”

“We rarely get out of the Miracle Box at the same time.”  Kaalki pressed her hooves together.  “Pleeease, Tikki, don’t be mad.”

“Aww, who cares if she’s mad?  Tikki’s always been a party pooper.”  Xuppu crossed his arms and stuck out his tongue.

“You mean she’s always had good sense.”  Wayzz stuck his head out from inside… a Barbie Dream House?  

Yep, it was definitely a dollhouse peaking out from under the hangers of shirts.  Marinette hadn’t expected Adrien to play with dolls.  The thought was adorable enough to make her grin before she remembered she was supposed to be angry.

“I can’t believe you, Wayzz,” Tikki huffed.  “You’re Master Fu’s kwami!  You’re supposed to know better!  Did Carapace corrupt you already?”

Wayzz gave a sheepish smile.  “Well, Master Carapace does know how to ‘let loose’… but in this case, it was all Kaalki’s idea.”

“Me?”  Kaalki looked aghast.  “I only wanted to see the inside of a house as glorious as Monsieur Agreste’s!  It was Xuppu who decided to throw a party.”

“Yeah, it’s my first time out of the box in a century!  I deserve to celebrate!”

Marinette’s eyes flickered between the kwamis as all of them—including Tikki—dissolved into bickering.

“Quiet!”  She said as forcefully as she could without raising her voice.  Adrien’s door seemed thick enough to block sound—she hadn’t heard the kwamis from outside, anyway—but she didn’t want to push her luck.  “It doesn’t matter whose fault this is.  The point is, I can’t let you all throw a party in a civilian’s closet.  It’s too dangerous.”

“More dangerous than Master Fu coming to a party here himself?”  Wayzz asked.

Marinette sighed.  She’d been surprised to see Master Fu today, too.  She supposed she couldn’t expect the kwamis to be better behaved than their Master.

“Do you all have your miraculouses?” She asked.  “Or did you leave them with your temporary holders?”

“I have been guarding them,” Wayzz said in resignation.  He flew back into the Barbie house and returned with a stack of four hexagonal boxes.

“Alright, everyone,” Marinette looked over each of the kwamis, “now I’m the party crasher.  It’s time you all went back to Master Fu.  No arguing.”

“That isss likely for the besssst.” Sass’s head hung.  “Until next time, Plagg. Tikki.”

He accepted his miraculous box dolefully, then flew out through the back wall.

“So not cool.”  Xuppu stuck his tongue out at Marinette one last time for good measure.  It was hard to blame him.  If he hadn’t been out in over a hundred years, how could he really understand how dangerous it was?

Except he’d been there for the incident with Kwami Buster.  So either he was lying, or he didn’t count helping Multimouse fight the akuma.

“At least let me take this fabulous ‘whipp-ed cream’ back to our world?”  Kaalki asked with huge, pleading eyes.

“Alright.  That can’t hurt.”  Marinette nodded.

“Oh, thank you, thank you!”  She nuzzled Marinette’s cheek before balancing the miraculous and the spray can together.  Marinette wasn’t quite sure how the kwami managed to get them through the wall, but she did.

“My humblest apologies for their behavior,” Wayzz said before leaving as well.  Maybe he was afraid that if he hesitated, Tikki or Marinette would chew him out again.

That only left one kwami hovering in front of her.

“Hehe.  Guess I should get back to Chat Noir.  Smell ya later, sugarcube!”

“Oh, no you don’t.”  Tikki grabbed his tail.  “I know that no matter what they said, you’re the one behind this.  You’ve been nothing but irresponsible since you’ve been out!  I know your owner is lenient with you, but you can’t keep doing this.” 

“Easy for you to say.”  Plagg tugged his tail back.  “I’m the kwami of destruction.  Rules are made to be broken!”

“Could you two be quiet?”  Marinette rubbed her temples.  “If someone hears you, we’ll all be in trouble.  Now just—use your head next time, okay Plagg?”

“Fine.”  He huffed before finally flying out through the wall.

“That was a close one,” Tikki said.  “I can’t believe they’d throw a party like that!  And not even invite me!”

Marinette raised her eyebrows, and the kwami giggled sheepishly.

“I mean… oh, I wish we could have parties too, Marinette.”  She slumped.  “But I know it’s not safe.  Even when we gathered together for Nooroo’s cycle, we left you and Chat Noir alone and created an opening for Hawkmoth.”

“Oh, Tikki.”  Marinette opened her arms, and her kwami nuzzled the crook of her neck.  It had to be lonely, spending most of her day stuck in a purse, never seeing her friends… 

In fact, it sounded all too much like the life Adrien had thrown this party to escape from.  Worse, because Adrien at least got to see their friends at school.  Tikki never got to visit the other kwamis.

“Maybe a surprise party is too dangerous, but we could see how Master Fu feels about having a few kwamis stay with us sometimes,” Marinette suggested.  “If I’m supposed to be the next Guardian, it would be a good idea anyway, right?  I’ll get to know the kwamis, you’ll get to hang out with your friends…”

Tikki’s eyes glistened in the dim light.  “You’d really do that for me?” 

“Of course I would!  I know we’re friends, but you deserve to see your other friends, too.”  Marinette crouched down, fiddling with the door of the Barbie house.  “Maybe I can even get you a cute dollhouse like this for you guys to have sleepovers in.”

It was huge; she would’ve killed to have one like it as a kid.  ...Okay, maybe she still would.  Not only would it be the perfect size for Tikki, but it would go well with her Ladybug and Chat Noir dolls, and…

Apparently Adrien thought so, too. A Ladybug figurine sat at the kitchen table with a model Chat Noir.  They both looked like top-of-the-line action figures.  Of course, Adrien could afford the best.

Curious, Marinette poked around a bit more.  A hot pink car with sharpied-on black spots sat in the garage.  The bedroom, oddly, didn’t have a bed—not a toy one, anyway.  It looked more like a black sock wadded up into a little lump.

“It is a sock.”

“Don’t touch it, Marinette!  It might be important to him.  What if he finds out you went through his things?”

“Oh, it’s not like this is the first time.  Besides, aren’t you curious what his fancy dollhouse is doing with a sock for a bed?”  She picked it up.  “I wonder if it’s supposed to be some kind of sleeping bag…?”

That was when she noticed the green embroidery along the toe.  It was haphazard and awkward, as if done by a beginner.

“Oh no.”  Tikki shut her eyes as Marinette finally parsed out what the embroidery said.  It was only one word long.

Plagg.

“Oh.  That makes more sense.”  Marinette laughed.  “Plagg must have left it behind after their party.  Of course Adrien wouldn’t have a sock in his dollhouse.  Do you think Chat Noir made it?  That’s really cute of him, actually.”

“Y-yeah, I’m sure Chat Noir made it.  You should just put it back.  I’m sure Plagg will come back for it.”

“But then Adrien might see him!  I should bring it back during patrol.  Then I’ll have proof that his kwami was off partying, too.”

Satisfied, Marinette was about to stick it in her pocket.  But then the door opened.

“Marinette?”  Adrien stood silhouetted by the outside light.  “Oh, good.  I was worried you got lost in here—”

His eyes landed on the sock in her fist.  He scrambled to shut the door behind him.

“Marinette, it’s not what you think!”  He waved his hands, but Marinette could hardly process that.  She was in a cramped closet with Adrien!  Well, not exactly cramped—his closet could’ve fit, like, five of hers in it—but still, it was just the two of them alone, and—what if her breath stunk?  He could probably smell it since he was so close, but he was busy staring…

At Tikki.

Oh.

Oh no.

“Marinette, you’re…”  He laughed and ran a hand through his hair, pointing his other between Tikki and her.  “You’re Ladybug.  You’re Ladybug!”

Marinette panicked.  Acting on instinct, she went to slap her hand over his mouth—forgetting that she was still holding Plagg’s sock.

Her soul left her body.  She’d basically shoved a smelly sock in her crush’s mouth!  This was worse than being outed as Marino, the mustachioed biker.  Probably even worse than Adrien discovering she was Ladybug.

“Adrien—I’m so sorry—I—Tikki, is there a Lucky Charm that can make it so that didn’t happen?”

“I’m not Sass.  I can’t turn back time.”  Tikki sighed.  “Oh, Plagg is never going to let me live this down...”

Adrien spat the sock out into his palm.  “It’s okay, Marinette.  I should’ve known better than to startle you.  And—and I’m really sorry, too.  I know you didn’t want us to share our identities.”

“But I already know you’ve been a superhero before.  When I gave you the snake miraculous?”  Marinette’s brow furrowed.  Maybe that was why Sass had felt comfortable hiding in Adrien’s closet.  But they’d barely been together for a few minutes, unless Sass also remembered all 25,913 time loops…

Adrien deserved a hundred parties after having to go through that.

Tikki slapped her forehead for some reason.  Adrien’s head tilted.

“That’s not really the same thing as knowing I’m Chat Noir.”

Marinette’s jaw dropped.  Adrien was… Adrien was…

Oh.  That… actually explained some things.  And left her more confused about others.

But Plagg flew out of Adrien’s overshirt, shattering whatever was left of her denial.

“Hey, sugarcube.  Long time no see.”  He grinned.

Tikki smacked her head again.  “We were so close.”

“Yep.  Your holder’s pretty stupid.  I really thought she wasn’t gonna figure it out.”

“Marinette’s not stupid!”  Adrien scowled at Plagg.  “She’s the perfect Ladybug.  Besides, she found out who I am because of your stinky sock!”

Marinette could barely breathe.  Adrien called her perfect.  

Adrien was also her partner.  Adrien made bad puns and knew how to moonwalk.  Adrien had tried to kiss her.

“Plagg’s right.  I am stupid.”

“My Lady, no.”  Adrien stepped forward to wrap his arms around her.  Adrien’s arms.  Adrien’s scent.  As if her brain wasn’t already fizzling out as it was.  

“It’s my fault,” he continued.  “I should’ve known better than to have you come in here.  Plagg’s Barbie house is more conspicuous than I thought, I guess.”  He winced.

“Oh, heh, about that…”  Plagg trailed off before pointing at Tikki.  “It’s sugarcube’s fault!”

“Plagg!”

“What?  It is!  Pigtails was never gonna put two and two together.  If my kid didn’t see you—”

“He already assumed Marinette knew, since she’s holding your stinky sock!”

“Should we just let them duke it out?”  Adrien whispered with a small grin.

Marinette giggled.  Maybe she should’ve been more worried, all things considered—but Adrien was Chat Noir.  And he was still hugging her.  She might’ve been a bit more lenient about their secret identities had she known who her partner would turn out to be.

Maybe Plagg was right, and some rules were made to be broken.

“If you think this is bad, you should’ve seen all the kwamis in here earlier.”

“All the kwamis?”  Adrien’s eyes widened.  “You mean, not just Plagg?”

“You didn’t have a clue, did you?  You weren’t the only one who decided to throw a party today.”

“I didn’t actually decide to. Nino and the guys just showed up.  But if you crashed a kwami party… I’m just lucky it’s you who came in here.”

That was true.  It could’ve been much worse if any of the other boys had found the kwamis.  They might have told someone, who could’ve told someone else, who might have been smarter than her and assumed Adrien was a miraculous holder.

She could still hardly believe she’d missed it.  In the dim lighting, she could paint Chat Noir’s mask over his eyes.  When he’d been Mister Bug, his irises had even been the same.

“Marinette?”  Adrien bit his lip.  “Is this… I mean, are we okay?  I’m glad you’re not freaking out or anything, but… are we going to have to give up our kwamis?”

Not give up their miraculouses.  Their kwamis.  Marinette didn’t miss how Plagg curled protectively into the crook of Adrien’s neck.  Plagg’s bright green eyes squinted out at her, as if daring her to try.

“No.  No, I won’t let that happen,” she promised.  After the incident with Feast, Marinette doubted the Master would dare try to separate them from their kwamis again.

“Me either,” Plagg said.

“I couldn’t choose another Ladybug,” Tikki agreed, snuggling up under Marinette’s chin.  With the two kwamis in between her and Adrien, it was like one big group hug.

“The Cat and Bug Team sticks together.”  Adrien squeezed her tighter.

“The Bug and Cat Team, you mean.”  She smiled, resisting the impulse to flick a bell that wasn’t there.

Yes, he was still Chat Noir.  She could get used to this.

“You know what this means, Tikki?”  Her smile turned sly.  “I won’t have to get you a Barbie house after all.  You can come sleep over in Plagg’s.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’d come sleep over too?”  Adrien wiggled his eyebrows, and she went bright red.  “I—I mean, that came out wrong.  Not that you can’t come over if you want to; I always leave my window open, but uh—”

She laughed.  He was definitely still her Chat Noir.  

“Maybe in your dreams, kitty,” she said automatically, and he smiled sheepishly.  “But… if you wanted to watch a movie, or play some video games, maybe…?”

He blinked.  “Are you… asking me on a date?”

She—she was!  Despite shoving a sock in his mouth, despite dressing up as a boy, despite—well, pretty much everything, honestly—she’d finally done it!

“Yes!”  She practically shouted.  “I mean—only if you want to.  No pressure.”  She grinned nervously.

“Are you kidding?”  He laughed and spun her by her waist; her feet knocked a few shirts off of their hangers.  “I’d love to go on a date with you, Marinette!”

She laughed too, a giddy sound that built from the deepest part of her lungs.  He said yes!

“We’re going to have to watch them be this disgusting for the rest of their lives, aren’t we?”  Plagg sighed.

“Hopefully.”  Tikki smiled.  Both of the kwamis had flown out of the way when Adrien had picked Marinette up.  “Aren’t you glad to see them so happy?”

“Meh.  Just don’t expect me to share my sock with you if you do sleep over.”  Plagg picked that sock off of the ground and bunched it up in the Barbie house bedroom.

Marinette giggled at them.  She would’ve giggled at anything, at this point; all the air in her lungs felt like helium.  She could’ve floated off the ground.

In an impulsive move, she stretched up on her tip-toes and kissed Adrien’s cheek.  The grin that stretched across his face could’ve lit his whole closet.

“This is the best day of my life,” he sighed.

Hers too.  Pleasant tingles ran all through her, and that was just from kissing him on the cheek.

“If it’s okay,” she hesitantly wrapped her arms around his neck, “I have an idea that could make it even better.”

His eyes softened, like liquid sunshine.  His head tilted down until their noses were brushing, until all she could see was him.

“You know I’m always ready to follow your lead, my Lady.”

With that permission, she surged up to meet his lips—

—Only to be blinded by light spilling through the doorway.

“Oh.  Uh, my bad.”

Marinette and Adrien sprung apart like magnets.

“Nino!”  She shouted.

“Fancy seeing you here!”  Adrien’s eyes were hysterically wide.  Thankfully, Tikki and Plagg had hidden as soon as Marinette and Adrien looked like they were about to kiss, so she didn’t have to worry about Nino discovering their identities.

“I was helping you clean your room.  You know, like everyone else?”  Nino said.  Adrien almost started to apologize, but Nino grinned.  “I was just looking for you because you disappeared all of a sudden.  But it looks like you’re busy.”

“I’m not—”

“We’re not—”

“I mean—”

“We’re just—cleaning the closet!”  Marinette lied.  Why was she lying?  Everyone already knew she wanted to kiss Adrien!

“Actually…”  Adrien bit his lip, then looked at hers pointedly.  “We were a little bit busy.”

Nino laughed.  “I told you she’d interrupt guy time.  But it’s all good, dude.  Just don’t forget Mylène and the girls are waiting on us!”

He winked, then closed the door on them.

“Oh my gosh.”  Marinette dropped her burning face in her hands.  “That was so awkward!”

“It could’ve been worse!”  Adrien hugged her again.  “It could’ve been Kim.  He would’ve told everyone.  Or Nino could’ve seen Tikki and Plagg.”

“Please, no one’s gonna see me.  I’m not coming out of my sock until you two are done sucking each other’s faces.”  Plagg’s voice came muffled from the Barbie house.

If Marinette’s face heated any more, she could fry eggs on it.  But she’d been more embarrassed than this before.  It wasn’t going to stop her from kissing Adrien.

“So about that face-sucking…” Adrien grinned.

She braced her hands and the edges of his jaw.  Her skin tingled at every place they touched.

“Kitty, just stop blabbing and let me kiss you.”

(He did.)

Lolicassé Profiles

(I'm so sorry for this I know it's ugly af!😭 the quality completely died when I imported the images into my computer.) Welcome one, welcome all! To Lolicassé the dorm of misfit toy! Founded on the intellect of the toymaker (though it's technically "founded" on a Micky mouse episode just like the Ramchakle dorm). The students in this dorm all use a classification of magic known as "creator" which permits them to build marvelous inventions and toys from simple everyday objects. Students here, are also able to transform into some sort of toy, which sometimes makes it hard to tell the students apart from the actual toys littering every corner of the dorm. If you are thinking of paying this dormitory little visit, BEWARE the students can get rather clingy and obsessed, and are not above using rather unorthodox means to keep their new playmate with them forever!

Meet the Students of this patched up dormitory.

Xerxes Starness Year/Class: Year 3 Class A Seat 8 Birthday: 18/01 (Capricorn) Age: 18 Height: 183 cm Dominant hand: left Origin: City of misfit toys Club: Robotics Best subject: physics Hobby: Inventing new devices and fixing up old inventions Bad with: Sleeping Favorite food: Chocolat Disliked food: any seafood Special skill: Fixing broken tech He is Lolicassé's dorm leader who can transform into a tiny remote control robot. He's a direct descendant of the original "founders" of the City of misfit toys. His childhood was rather isolated, having two very strict parents that we're obsessed with the idea of creating the "perfect child". Even in Night Raven he still continues to distance himself from other people, which has resulted in several rumors about him to rapidly spread.

Special ability Optical database When he looks directly at an object or person he is able to pull up numerous information about them. His brain is the equivalent of the world wide web. It is rumored that this isn't his original special ability and that his mother stole his birth ability instead of replacing it with a man-made ability

Edgar Ross Year/Class: Year 3 Class B Seat 26 Birthday: 04/04 (Aries) Age: 19 Height: 189 cm Dominant hand: left Origin: City of misfit toys Club: Magical Shift Club Best subject: Protective magic Hobby: Exercising Bad with: Not invading peoples personal space Favorite food: Anything with gravy on it. Disliked food: corn Special skill: Sharpshooting

He is Lolicassé's deputy dorm leader who was raised in a military household and in such pride himself on being the "perfect" soldier. He's rather old fashioned and keeps a formal attitude with whoever he meets. He devotes himself to "protecting" his dorm members which have caused him to get in multiple fights with students from other dorms. It is said that he idolizes Xerxes father. He can turn himself into a toy soldier like the rest of his family members.

Special Ability Icy bullet He is able to emit glacier bullets from his body that freeze what every they touch. Due to his polished target skills he hardly ever misses his target.

Ray Sanada Year/Class: Year 3 Class C Seat 19 Birthday: 24/06 (Cancer). ‎ Age: 18 Height: 177 cm Dominant hand: Right Origin: City of misfit toys Club: Studying movies club Best subject: Alchemy Hobby: Sewing dolls Bad with: Focusing on one task for long periods of time Favorite food: Strawberry cake Disliked food: anything grape flavored Special skill: Memorizing books quickly

An emotionless boy with a doll-like beauty that can transform into a porcelain victorian era doll. His beauty is rumored to rival that of the Pomefiore perfect. He is said to be deprived of emotions. He rarely speaks and doesn't have any friends. Some students say that they see him roaming the Ramshackle graveyard in the unholy hours of the night.

Special ability Dollhouse his special ability permits him to bring inanimate objects to life. However they have to be objects that he himself makes. As of right now his ability can only keep something alive for exactly 3 minutes and 52 seconds.

Ezequiel Autumn Year/Class: Year 2 Class B Seat 18 Birthday: 18/10 (Scorpio) Age: 17 Height: 182 cm Dominant hand: Right Origin: City of misfit toys Club: Board game club Best subject: Summoning Hobby: Video games Bad with: Talking to girls Favorite food: Soft drinks Disliked food: spicy foods Special skill: Hacking

A shut-in with absolutely no social skills. No one knows what exactly happened to his mother or any of his aunts but he was raised by his father and uncles. Due to this he rarely ever spoke to any girls and freezes whenever he has to talk to them. With the acceptance of his godmother who happens to be Xerxes' mother. He considers Xerxes his only real friend. He is able to transform into an anime figurine. It is rumored that he has a pair of wings though no one has ever seen them.

Special Ability White Raven, Black raven It is unclear if he was born with this ability or if it was implanted in him when he was a young child. But his voice is able to manipulate the will of others. After an unfortunate incident some students have speculated that he also has the ability to control the life span of those under the influence of his voice.

London Lore Year/Class: Year 2 Class C Seat 5 Birthday: 31/10 (Scorpio) Age: 17 Height: 179 cm Dominant hand: Right Origin: Villiage of Harvest Club: Basketball club Best subject: Summoning Hobby: Collecting buttons Bad with: Keeping track of time Favorite food: Pumpkin spice drinks Disliked food: watermelons/ gravy Special skill: Sewing customers

A lazy second-year student with an unsettling creepy aura around him. He can transform into a rag doll, although even in "toy form" he is still very unnerving to be around. He was created in the city of misfit toys, but raised in the Village of Harvest were his family owned a small farm where they mostly grew pumpkins and corn. The chain around his neck tethers his body and mind to the soul of a famous killer, although this is all just a rumor it's still more than enough to get other students to avoid him at all costs.

Special Ability Plague's kiss He can emit a deadly toxin from his body which causes people to transform into hideous monsters and submit to his will. Although even after years of practice he is only able to create a max of five monsters.

Valentino Kartinez Year/Class: Year 2 Class A Seat 3 Birthday: 09/09 (Virgo) Age: 17 Height: 173 cm Dominant hand: Right Origin: City of misfit toys Club: Science club Best subject: Arts Hobby: Hosting tea parties Bad with: Ripping open his stitches Favorite food: Cookies and milk Disliked food: Vegetables Special skill: Cooking and baking

A trickster, who's elaborate tea parties are talked about all over the school and usually gather a large crowd. He grew up in a crowded family consisting of 13 siblings in which he was the "middle" child. His family owned a famous chain of restaurants that were known for their "childlike glow". Due to the restaurants taking up much of his parent's time, Valentino became accustomed to staying at home and only having his siblings as companions. Although he did enjoy the company of his younger siblings he detested his older, bossier siblings. His toy form is that of an old mangled teddy bear.

Special ability Childhood tea party Valentino is able to create a lifelike simulation of someone's memory, however, the illusion only lasts up to four minutes.

Jess Box Year/Class: Year 1 Class A Seat 23 Birthday: 14/12 (Sagittarius) Age: 16 Height: 171 cm Dominant hand: Left Origin: City of misfit toys Club: Basketball club Best subject: Magical Pharmaceuticals Hobby: Designing tattoos Bad with: Keeping his voice down Favorite food: Pudding Disliked food: Raisins Special skill: Memorizing nursery rhymes

A loud, hyperactive claustrophobic first year who's voice seems to constantly be echoing around the halls. Despite being a Jack in the box, he hates small, dark, confinements. He's rather happy go lucky and usually doesn't care much about what goes on around him.

Special Ability Pop goes the Weasel His body becomes as flexible like a spring, permitting him to jump around and attach to walls. According to a certain hunter, Jess's special ability would make him an amazing huntsman. Although the first year seems to prefer using his power set to prank his classmates and teachers.

🐻❤️ 🐻❤️ 🐻❤️ 🐻❤️ 🐻❤️ 🐻❤️ 🐻❤️ 🐻❤️ 🐻❤️ 🐻❤️ 🐻❤️ 🐻❤️ 

Alright so this is how I'm going to do things. Interactions are open for these characters, meaning you guys can send them asks (yandere or normal. How they would react to something/Someone up to you), just talk to them or whatever else you can come up with. I'll do my best to answer everything, whoever if I think an ask better deserves a drawing as an explanation I'll put it on hold and make a quick sketch for it later. This whole dorm was really a giant drawing practice and since I really want to start digital I might re-draw them later (not likely but we'll see). I'm thinking if these characters get popular (Idk 55 likes and maybe 10 interactions) I'll release sprites of the characters doing poses similar to the TW boys  (basically how I imagine them if they where in the game) and maybe later even do some chibis of the boys. Although I seriously doubt anyone is going to like or read this  😂 🤣 😂🤣. Also a huge thank you to everyone that encouraged me to continue working on this it means so much to me! And a special thank you to Rinna ( @minoux-deactivated20200516​ ) the creator of Terrorwood who inspired me to take the first step in making this dorm. If anyone wants to make an oc for this dorm feel free to do so (let's be honest no one would want that) just please tag me.

Bad Guy.

Mafia! Bucky AU

Requested by @millennialdisaster a.k.a my Baseball Bat Anon who sent a cute request a while ago.

I’m sorry this took so long, love. I hope you liked it! ily

 Run-through: The world is a bad place, cities and town alike are now filled with violence and bad people. And in the middle of it all, Bucky Barnes finds love where it wasn’t supposed to be.

 Themes: smut, violence, slight gore elements, fluff

 The night sky, an obsidian tapestry, acted as a witness to all the sin that went down in the city. At night time, all the sinners prowled, lurked in the shadows – hunting.

Deals sealed among gang members. Mobsters killing away anyone who opposed them – protecting what they swore to protect; be it family, or just pride.

Drugs. Money, sex and power were all people cared about. The world was a bad place.

During daytime, the city was somewhat safe. However, at night; it became a playground for all the devils who inhabited the city.

Among those devils, was Bucky Barnes. Powerful, filthy rich and feared – he was the ultimate King of the underworld.

A mob, mafia, gang leader – he had many titles.

Bucky had everything he ever wanted; wealth, power, loyalty from those who worked with and for him. Yet, the one thing he never got was the true love of a woman.

After all, the King needed his Queen to complete him.

However, his wish was soon granted.

 ---

 It was a regular night for Bucky. Having sealed a promising deal with his ally – Wilson, and little bit of alcohol in his system; Bucky made his way home.

He would probably stop by some brothel and find a beautiful woman to warm his bed for the night. However, no matter how pretty, they could never fill the void he experienced.

 He walked to his car, which was parked a little far away from the club he was stepping out of, surrounded by three of his guys, when he heard a few shouts – followed by the sound of metal crashing on the concrete ground.

At first, neither him nor his guys thought much of it. They thought that it was probably some drunkard being kicked out of one of the many shabby pubs.

However, Bucky stopped in his tracks when he heard the voice of a woman. A young one at that. It sounded like she was in pain, or in trouble.

Bucky couldn’t walk away knowing a woman was in danger, so he signaled his guys to follow him. Two of them cocked their guns and held it at the ready while one walked behind him.

Bucky’s hand lingered on the gun at his waist as him and his little crew approached the source of the voice.

 “In that alley way, boss. Right by the dumpster,” one of his men spoke in a hushed voice.

A sound of something hard hitting the dumpster could be heard, followed by the grunting of a male voice. Whoever this woman was, she was surely being manhandled by a man.

 Bucky sure was a practitioner of evil but he wasn’t entirely heartless. Having being raised in a family where his ruthless father used his mother as a punching bag; Bucky was not one to allow violence against women.

And whoever this man was, Bucky and his men would surely teach him a lesson of a lifetime.  

 As they neared the alley, they could hear the pants and groans of someone being in pain. One of his men ran to the dumpster and lowered his gun immediately – as if there was no need to shoot someone. He motioned for the others to march forward.

Bucky frowned at the weird gesture and walked towards him anyways.

 Upon reaching where his guy stood, Bucky could not believe his eyes.

The situation was the opposite of what he thought it’d be. Being mercilessly beaten with what seemed to be a baseball bat, was a man – on the concrete ground, writhing in pain and groaning as he was being repeatedly hit on the head.

And the one standing above him, beating the shit out of the man, was you. Your hair fell around your face, so Bucky could not see who the badass chick was.

He studied your form. Legs clad in dark jeans, a simple white t-shirt – with a few drops of blood on it. Upon seeing the blood, Bucky was concerned.

He took a few steps towards you, but since you were busy beating someone with a baseball bat, you didn’t notice.

 “…I swear if you ever steal from my pub again, I will shove this bat so far up your a-,”

 “That’s enough, doll, he’s unconscious already,” Bucky cut you off, approaching your agitated frame with caution and watch how you slowly looked up at him.

Panting, you stared into his blue eyes with your e/c ones. And once you did, he could’ve sworn the world around him got a few shades brighter.

He noticed you didn’t recognize him right away. He wondered why.

 “Fucking deserved it, this piece of shit walked in like he fucking owned it and took my entire day’s earning,” you panted as you complained to him.

While stepping away from the thief’s bleeding body, you kicked his side and his body laid limp on the ground.

Bucky held back a chuckled as his brain registered your colorful speech. You were something else. Most women he knew always pretended as though they needed to be protected and kept like a glass figurines, but you – you seemed like you were used to fighting your own fights.

And he liked that. Very much.

 Bucky watched how you bent down and searched the thief’s pockets for the money that he took from you. He watched how you smiled in triumph once you found a thick bundle of notes in the inside pocket of his leather jacket.

Bucky was about to say something, but then a certain mark caught his eye. Right at the base of the thief’s neck was a tattoo. A skull, below which were six tentacles spread out.

Definitely not a random tattoo. This was a criminal mark – to show one’s loyalty towards HYDRA.

HYDRA; a notorious organization who only acquired power by snatching it and ruining lives of the innocent, and they were Bucky Barnes’ most flagrant rival.

 Bucky didn’t know how to react. A girl just took on a HYDRA goon, alone; with just a baseball bat. Damn.

 “Step away doll, this is no regular thief. This guy’s a HYDRA goon. You’re lucky we found you, if it were HYDRA, you would be in their dungeon by now,” Bucky spoke and watched how realization slowly hit you.

 You looked at him for a moment then at his men. Your eyes slowly trailed down to where his metal was, at his side and he saw how fear flashed in your fiery eyes.

 You clutched the bundle of money to your chest and started backing away, slowly, from him and his crew.

The dimmed lights of the streets allowed him to get a good look at you. You were pretty. Very pretty.

Then he noticed the blood trailing down your chin. He furrowed his eyebrows at you.

 “You’re bleeding, doll. He hurt you?” Bucky asked, while his men grinned as they picked up the limp body of the goon off the ground. Of course, they had finally found a member belonging to the rivals – they were just happy that they would get to torture him and get every secret out of him.

 You froze to the ground as Bucky approached you. He walked in your direction until he was standing right in front of you, not far from his men.

He extended his metal arm and touched your face, the cold metal against your warm skin felt oddly soothing, and you stuttered when you tried to talk.

 “You’re B-Bucky Barnes, aren’t you? I-I’m sorry, you can have the money, sir. Please don’t hurt me, I-,” the flows of your weak words came to a halt as he traced the skin around the cut on your lip.

You watched how intently he observed the cut on the side of your lip, and how lazily his eyes roamed your face while he caressed your skin.

Dressed in a dark suit, tall and power flowing around him, wrapping him in an invisible cocoon – he sure as hell looked intimidating. Yet, his touch was gentle.

You had heard about him several times before. The city you lived in was more or less entirely a terrain for men like him. Rich, powerful men who only knew the language of violence.

 There were stories about how he got his infamous, prosthetic metal arm. Some believed his lost his arm in an accident. Others said that he was once captured when he was young, and tortured in the basement of his enemies. Then when his family got him back, the arm was attached to him, and he had no recollection of what had happened to him.

And many more.

No one knew the truth. Few people ever saw him in person. And now, you were among the few.

 The man chuckled at your words. It was the only audible sound apart from your heartbeats which rang in your ear.

 “I don’t want the money, doll. You’re bleeding, you should get it cleaned before it gets infected. Come on, let me drop you home. You live around here?” he asked, lowering his hand back at his sides as he realized that he had been cradling your face for too long and it was beginning to get awkward and weird.

 Your eyes widened at his suggestion.

 “I- no, sir. There’s no need. I’ll manage, I-,”

 “I wasn’t asking, doll. It’s not a safe area for a girl to be on her own. Although, you definitely are very capable of looking out for yourself but I insist, let me drop you home. Or your pub, whichever you prefer,” he spoke again, a faint smile on his face.

You dared to admit that the man the news called the ‘King of the underworld’, was rather handsome. With some of his long, dark locks pulled back into a little bun, and his perfect beard – he looked like every girl’s dream.

And his eyes… the darkness of the night and of his outfit complimented the ocean blue eyes he had.

 You mentally scolded yourself for admiring such a man. But you couldn’t help yourself. He was, indeed, very dreamy.

But, still, you couldn’t accept his offer. People talked a lot in this city, and every girl who was seen with men of Bucky Barnes’ caliber, were often given labels. Bad labels.

 “Really, I’ll be fine. I could walk home, I don’t live far from-,”

 “What’s your name?” he abruptly cut your rambling off.

 “Y/N,”

 “Listen, Y/N. You just beat the hell out of a HYDRA goon. Who knows, maybe he was keeping an eye on me for a while now. You just saved me so much trouble, doll. Plus, you’re hurt. The least I can do it see to it that you reach home safely. Who knows, maybe HYDRA is even keeping an eye on you,”

Okay, he totally exaggerated the last part. But he only did it just so you would agree to his suggestion. Bucky was enchanted. You were beautiful, strong, kept your calm and were a total badass.

You were the kind of woman he hoped to have by his side. And he was not letting you go just yet.

 Your eyes widened as he said the last words.

 “So, please, let me escort you home,” you noticed that the three men turned their heads at the same time to look back at the two of you.

They were, shamelessly, eavesdropping.

 You nodded. You feared HYDRA just like any other civilian of the city, and now, having injured one of them – you were very scared.

  “He’s not dead, is he?” you asked as you watched how the men carried the limp body of the goon and walked in front of you and Bucky.

You held the baseball bat in your hand and the bundle of money in the other hand as you walked alongside Bucky on the pavement.

The night was getting a bit cold, and your t-shirt was barely keeping you warm.

 He chuckled.

“He’s not, doll. Not yet. Thanks to you, I now have an enemy in my grasp. I should thank you,” he spoke, a playful tone lacing his words.

 “Oh, well, you’re welcome, sir,” you spoke as you neared two black cars.

 Bucky ordered two of his men to take the goon to his mansion and told them to have their ‘fun’ but keep him ‘alive’ until he got there. They walked away and threw the goon in the back and drove off in the first car.

The third guy sat at the driver’s seat of the second car and waited for you two to get in.

 You watched how Bucky opened the car door for you and you immediately rushed inside as the air got colder.

Once you settled against the leather seat, you dropped the baseball bat at your feet and tucked the bundle of money in the pocket of your jeans.

Bucky walked around the car and got inside as well. He sat beside you and you noticed how he very subtly inched closer to you.

 “Where to, miss?” the guy in the driver’s seat asked.

 “Uh, drive straight and take the next right. Then another left and my pub should be there,” you gave him the directions and he nodded in understanding.

Once the engine purred, you leaned against the leather seat and shivered. You were cold and the man beside you noticed.

Without a word said, he removed the dark jacket of his suit and held it in front of you.

 “Oh no, I’m good, sir. I don’t-,”

 “Okay one, call me Bucky. And two, I can tell you’re cold, doll. Just take it,” he watched the slight tremble in your lip as you hesitantly accepted it.

You leaned forward and slipped your arms through the sleeves and once it was around your body, you immediately snuggled into it.

Bucky watched you with a faint smile on his face. Seeing you in his clothes did things to him, and he didn’t know how to explain it.

It felt…right.

 You subtly sniffed his jacket. It smelt nice. Fresh, strong and powerful. Exactly what you thought mob bosses smell like.

 Soon, with a few turns, the car stopped right outside your pub. It was still lit, which meant that even after you took off running after the goon, your friend was still working.

You didn’t get out of the car immediately. You slowly removed the jacket and handed it back to him. You smiled politely as you did so.

 He took it back and gave you a small smile.

  “Go on, I’ll be waiting. I’m gonna drop you home after,”

 You opened you mouth to tell him that it was fine and that he shouldn’t bother but he beat you to it.

 “Again, I wasn’t asking, doll,” he spoke again, a smirk on his gorgeous face.

 Good lord…

There was not a single flaw on the man’s face. Everything about him was perfect. The crinkles by his eyes, his beard, his tired yet dreamy eyes – he was beautiful. And equally as dangerous.

 You shut up, and made your way out of his car. As you walked up the couple of steps and walked inside the pub, you felt a glare on your back. And surprisingly, you didn’t mind.

 Walking inside the pub, you were immediately tackled by your co-worker. She held you tight in her arms and told you how worried she was after you took off running.

You narrated the entire story to her, while the two of you gathered your stuff and prepared to close down.

  Through the glass windows, Bucky watched how you gracefully moved across the pub; securing your bag on your shoulder and your jacket in your hand.

In the dimmed golden lights, you looked divine. Bucky watched in awe how you hugged your friend goodbye.

 “Never seen you look at a woman like that before, boss. She’s special, I believe,” commented his guy who was in the driver’s seat.

Bucky chuckled and lowered his eyes for a moment before looking at you again.

 “She’s not like the rest,” he said, smiling and watched how you made you way towards his car again. Wind blowing through your hair and he caught the bruise which was forming around your soft lips.

 Bucky sighed. And his heartbeat quickened when you got in beside him and gave him a polite smile.

   That night, after he dropped you off. Bucky somehow managed to convince you to let him in so he could tend to the cut on your lips.

At that point, the two of you knew that he was doing all this to be close to you. And while his heart did a little victory dance when you agreed to let him help you; you wondered why a man like him would even want to be around an ordinary girl like you.

 Bucky followed you to your bathroom, and stood in front of you while he examined the cut on your lip. Your lower back pressed against the counter as his body was merely a few centimeters away from yours.

He grabbed a cotton pad and wet it with water and cleaned the wound gently. Normally, you would wince at the sting but since all you could do was focus on how close he was, you didn’t make a sound.

 “You live here alone, doll?” he asked, eyes on your mouth and face frowning in concentration. His warm hand was placed on your cheek while his metal hand cleaned the cut.

 “Me and Colby,” you whispered as his eyes flicked to yours and then quickly back to the wound. His body inched forward. And suddenly, you had trouble breathing.

 “That’s your guy? Boyfriend?” he asked again, placing the cotton pad down and picking up the antiseptic lotion from the kit. He picked up another cotton pad and squeezed some of the lotion onto it.

 “No, that’s- Colby is my pit bull,” you watched how flustered Bucky got when you cleared his misunderstanding. Guess that’s what happens when you give your dog human names.

 “Oh,” was all Bucky said before getting back at cleaning your wound. He leaned in closer to your face and applied the lotion very gently.

You tried to look away from his face because he was making you breathless. So, you stared downwards. Bad idea.

His lower body was merely inches away from yours and it might’ve been your brain messing with you but it seemed as though there was a bulge forming in there.

You found yourself fantasizing about him again.

Given his reputation, there’s no way that he enters people’s home and cleans their wounds often. Then why was he so concerned with you?

Would he ask for something in return? Like the other men in his profession did?

 You were aware of how the society had become. You had heard the stories of how certain mobsters granted women favors; jobs, money, or save them from any trouble. But then in return, they would ask them to-

 “…suck on it,” you heard his voice and your eyes immediately moved from staring at his lower region. He was now staring at you – his face just inches away. He was so close that you could see the flares of grey in his eyes. He must have noticed that you were staring at his- well, down there.

Did he just-

“Pardon?” you must have misheard him, right? Unless…

 “I said, get an ice cube and suck on it. It’ll reduce the swelling,” he completed his sentence and had you feeling like a desperate idiot.

 “Right. Yes, I will. Thank you, for everything,” you thanked him and he just smirked; but didn’t moved.

He leaned in and placed both of his hands on either side of you, leaning slightly against the counter behind you – trapping you between his muscular body and the counter.

You looked into his blue eyes and your thoughts were a hot mess. Jesus, why did he have to be so handsome?

 “Take care, doll. I’ll have my people make sure nobody messes with your pub again. Good night,” he whispered, leaned in and kissed the other side of your mouth. Lips dangerously close to yours, your heartbeats shot up when he allowed his lips to linger on your skin. His beard stabbed your skin a little bit, but weirdly, you liked it.

He smirked when he saw how hot and bothered you got just by one simple touch of his. And he knew this wasn’t the last time his lips would be on you.

  He bade you goodbye and walked out of the house. As soon as you heard his car driving away, you also heard your puppy finally coming out of his hiding spot. For a pit bull, he sure was shy.

He ran to you in the bathroom and you picked him up, kissing him carefully on top of his head.

 “He’s so dreamy, isn’t he? Oh my God Colby, am I falling for the bad guy?” you asked your pup and he just stared at you.

  Turned out, you were.

 ---

 For the next few days, you couldn’t get Bucky out of your mind. He even stopped by a few times, at the pub. And one of his men were always keeping a watch over you.

It was weird in the beginning, but then you got used it. it made you feel safer.

He would order one pint of beer and spend the next hour talking to you. He was a big flirt, and he even told you about how they ‘handled’ the goon.

Then one day, while taking casually, he finally dropped the bomb.

 “Can I take you out on a date, doll?”

 You stared at him in disbelief. Then laughed. And agreed.

 ---

 The date went by just fine. And as cliché as it was, you found yourself falling for the bad guy.

 While casually talking about the recent activities in the city, Bucky made a suggestion.

 “It’s a tough world out there, why don’t you let me teach you how to defend yourself? I mean, the baseball bat is not really that handy. Maybe guns, fighting techniques and all that,” he sipped on his glass of red wine and watched you intently.

You smiled.

 “What makes you think I would want that?” you questioned, a spark in your eyes.

 “Because I see who you truly are. You like danger, there’s this excitement in your eyes every time you stared at my revolver. Y/N, you weren’t afraid to take on a HYDRA goon in an alley way, all on your own. That’s pretty impressive. You have skills, you’re a natural,”

Seems like he was quite the observer.

Bucky noticed how your eyes would linger on the shiny metal of his gun each time he was around you.

You chuckled.

 “I did that because I didn’t know he was one of HYDRA, believe me, all I did was hit him in the head repeatedly, until he passed out. How did you even know he was one of HYDRA’s goons?”

You liked his idea, but you were also a bit hesitant.

People normally tend to stay as far away as possible from men like Bucky. But here you were, on a date with him – in his kitchen; having dinner which he made for you.

 “The mark, on his neck. The HYDRA mark. See, I could teach you all that. If you let me,” he spoke again, leaning onto the kitchen island.

You sat up straight in the stool and faced him with a smirk.

 “Then? You teach me all that then, what? You’re gonna make me become a bounty hunter?” you asked, smirking still.

By now, it was probably the wine speaking.

 Bucky chuckled and shook his head.

 “No, of course not. But all that will help while you’re with me,” he raised an eyebrow at you.

You didn’t quite get what he meant.

 “Okay you’re amazing, but the last thing I want, is to be part of your gang Mr. Barnes. I’m fine with bartending, really,”

 Bucky smiled, and placed his metal hand over yours on the surface of the counter.

 “Not part of my gang, sugar. Mine. I want you to be my girl,” he corrected your misunderstanding. There was a promise in his eyes as he spoke, along with a sense of playfulness.

He was serious, and he needed an answer.

You thought it over for a while.

Then agreed.

 ---

 Initially, you were over at Bucky’s place every few days. Days filled with excessive flirting, lingering touches and training.

He taught you the basics; how to spot HYDRA goons, how to fire a gun, and self-defense moves.

You learnt all about his past, and how he was practically forced to become who he is. He initially wanted to become an artist, but his father crushed his dreams and handed him a shotgun when he was only 12.

 Then later on, your training shifted to more intense stuff; handling blades and sparring. Your relationship with Bucky morphed into something much more stable as well. And the lingering touches turned into steamy make out sessions.

 Then one day, Bucky couldn’t take it anymore. While training and sparring, he had you under him so many times that the hard on in his pants started to hurt.

So when you went upstairs to use his shower; he followed you.

  ---

 You sighed as soon as the warm water fell on your skin, washing away the sweat and the dirt. You were worn out, and some of your muscles hurt and your body was sore. So, when you felt two large hands on your hips pulling you into a muscular torso, you allowed it with a smile.

 Bucky’s hands wrapped around your waist and he pulled you into him, placing his chin on your shoulder and turning his head to the side to kiss your jaw.

You tilted your head back and relished the feeling of being in his arms.

“How classy of you, sneaking up on a woman while she’s in the shower,” you mumbled and he chuckled while he peppered your skin with kisses.

You sighed in comfort.

 “My woman,” he corrected and turned your body so you faced him. And not an ounce of shame could be seen on his face as he allowed his eyes to roam around your bare chest.

You did blush for a moment, but the moment you felt his lips on yours; nothing else mattered.

 Soon, your back hit the cold tiles of the shower and you moaned into Bucky’s mouth while he pulled you up and wrapped your legs around his waist; hands on the curve of your ass holding you firmly between him and the wall.

His lips moved against yours feverishly; eagerly.

Stealthily, one of his hands dipped in between the two of you and lazily rubbed your wet folds. You gasped at the sudden caress of his fingers.

His lips moved from your lips to your neck and he nibbled along the side of your throat while his fingers slipped past your entrance with ease.

Your arousal coated his fingers as he pumped them in and out of you. A series of moans, mewls and cuss words escaped your lips as you felt a familiar warmth wash over you.

You felt a certain firmness pressing against your thigh and excitement coursed through you at the mere thought of him being inside you.

 “Don’t come yet, baby,” he whispered in your ear as he felt your walls pulsating around his fingers. You groaned at his words and just as you tried to grind against his hand, he abruptly removed his hand from you.

You whimpered and cursed again while he smirked against your skin. Your hand held on to his shoulder while the other cradled his face gently, guiding his lips over to yours.

Your dripping core throbbed as it rested against his lower abdomen, pressing against his pelvic area. His erected length stood proud and tall, lightly touching his Adonis belt.

He looked tempting, and the hunger in his eyes didn’t help at all. Your hand slowly left his face as you trailed down his torso.

His muscles tensed under your touch; abs tightening and his cock twitched as soon as you wrapped your hand around it.

You smiled into the kiss as your hand started stroking his velvety skin. Your thumb rubbed the slit at his tip lazily and he moaned into the kiss; tongue diving into your mouth while you pumped your hand up and down his length – taking your sweet time as you brought him on the edge.

 He pulled away and tilted his head back, cussing as your quickened your pace around him; eyes shutting while his face frowned in pleasure. He moaned and bit his lip as you pumped him faster; watching how his tip started leaking. He was close, you could tell.

His fingers dug into your skin as he got closer and closer to his release. Subtly, he moved his hips forward, thrusting into your hand while he mumbled incoherent words in your ear.

 You leaned in and kissed his neck, biting and teasing his skin while he slowly rocked his hips against your hand.

You felt his cock twitch again, while he moaned against your cheek; you internally admitted that it was the hottest sound you ever heard.

However, to give him a taste of his own medicine, just as he was about to come undone; you abruptly stopped stroking his length.

His eyes flew open and it was his turn to groan and look at you as if you had stabbed him in the back. You smirked as he stared at you in the eyes; his eyes so blue and clear that you felt like you were in a trance.

 “Such a fucking tease,” he whispered and tugged on your lower lip.

If someone had told you a few weeks ago that you would find yourself in Bucky Barnes’ bathroom, in his arms, kissing him soon, you would never have believed them. But here you were now, and you wouldn’t change a thing.

  You whimpered when Bucky filled you up with his cock, stretching you to your maximum and grunting occasionally while mumbling how good you felt.

Slow and steady at first, then gradually building up his pace; Bucky rocked into you, stroking your walls with his thick cock.

His thrust quickly grew rougher and with each one, your back slammed against the wall behind you. Your legs tightened around him as he bit down on your shoulder, muffling the sinful moan which escaped his lips.

The sound of the water falling down on the tile beneath you suppressed the obscene sounds of your skin slapping against one another and the moans which left both your mouths.

 You felt his grip tightening on your hip and thigh; promising to leave behind a loving bruise.

Bucky fucked you against the wall relentlessly until your thoughts were a mess. The only things you could focus on while his length slipped in and out of you were the sounds which escaped his lips and the words he mumbled in your ear; accompanied by his ragged breaths.

 You felt the pressure forming in between your legs, hot and fiery; a need flowed between the two of your connected bodies. You had spent most of your life on your own; fighting and struggling to get rid of the loneliness.

Yet, there in his arms, you felt a sense of belonging. A comfort which you had been craving for so long.

 All it took was a few more strokes of his cock against your walls and you were a mess. Walls clenching around him, you came undone and felt the pleasure wash over you.

You whispered his name incessantly as he kept rocking into you until he reached his release. Warm seeds spilled in you as he leaned against you to catch his breath. Yours arms wrapped around his shoulders as you placed your forehead against his.

His warm breath fanned your face. And when he finally opened his eyes, he gave you a genuine smile. And suddenly, everything around you was a shade brighter.

You smiled back and stared into his oceans eyes.

 “I could get used to this,” he whispered against your mouth; lips brushing against yours gently. He was still a little breathless.

 “Me too, actually,” you replied, caressing his cheek with your thumb. Bucky leaned into your touch and exhaled.

 “Move in with me,”

 Nothing more had to be said. You felt safe with him around, and he felt complete with you.

You agreed, because you were hopelessly falling for the bad guy.

Permanent Tag List: (OPEN)

@the-omni-princess @saharzek @everything-is-awesomesauce @unlikelycandylove @minetticatinwonderland @sparkling-gayyyy @imsoft-barnes @destiel-artemis @avnngrs @pleasforhelp @randomfangirlonline @peaceinourtime82 @blvck-stabbath @nec-me-ire @sexytholland @isabelcrichards @ahappylilybug2019 @lighterey @gentlethunderstorm @scarlettequinn @elevatorsnot-worthy @ya-lyublu-tebya @gloomybxy @mmyepic @breatheeagainnnn @ashlieadelia @dlcita @enigma-xlii @imrisaluk @asgardians-of-wakanda @grayxswan @thefvcker-tucker @freshprincessofwakanda @rynabarnesrogers @scuzmunkie @aflightlessborb @purpyyeol @xinyourdreamsx @starstar1012 @chrishiddle @sevenseasofskye @sebabestianstan101 @mannls @cal-ifornication @t-kageyamama @dreams-in-blxck @miraclesoflove @stangirl-fangirl264 @lokilvrr @sedulouswrtr @fafulous @tardisin221bst @yeahhemmings- @yikes-buckybarnes @partlybcrnes @givinggoodvibes @supernatural-fanfic @mapreza1 @honeyydippaa @siriusjohnpotter @bastianbarnes @luvu3000times @sebastian-i-stan @msruchita @xoxabs88xox @gingerbread-in-july @thefridgeismybestie @harringtonsbaseballbat @sadconfusedgirl @buckystanluvr @babyyysucc @heartislubbingdubbing @zainabmmm @meme--overload @rororo06 @xcravingyoux @morrellica @134340-cm @nsfwsebbie @cerberux @mvrtjnafc @disaster-rose @thesumofmychoices

Thoughts on Tangled the Series

Today I was thinking about why I decided to collect Tangled. I’m a natural collector, I love to collect things – once upon a time, I had a big Aladdin collection (I have a thing for locked up princesses and thieves, as you can see) – and the thing is… it’s the series. I fell deeply in love with Tangled because of the series (which I’m gonna call Tangled the Series, but I know it’s also Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure).

I already liked it a lot, don’t get me wrong; I see the light is my wedding song, and I already had quite a few dolls and figurines, including the 17’ bride. But I didn’t love it.

That is, until the day I found out there was going to be a TV show, showing Rapunzel’s life outside the tower, getting adapted to the world. This made me so happy! And every detail I read made me even more excited. The care about the art, the same voices, the songs, everything!

And above all, for the first time ever, a Disney Princess would be “real”.

She was going to be angry, and make mistakes, and make a fool of herself and have fights with her boyfriend. She wasn’t going to be the perfect model of princess I have dealt with since I was born. Not that I don’t like the princesses as they are, but I always wanted to see life after happily ever after. Not Aladdin or Hercules or The Little Mermaid style. Those series are cool, but they don’t really tell a story, it’s just a lot of different stories. I wanted more!  

And damn, did I get it. So much more. What an amazing show. Worthy of the amazing movie it was based on.

So, there: this series made a 30-something lady into a collector and a die-hard Tangled fan. So, why it’s not a success with kids as well? It’s a cartoon, right? It’s on Disney Channel!

Well, I don’t know if this is a fact, but the way I see it, Tangled the Series is not really for kids. Some amazing mind created this story with a lot of layers and so much depth that it is more suited for teenagers and adults, and for some miracle Disney accepted it and decided that is should be put in production.

However, because it’s about a Disney Princess, people immediately assume it’s for little girls. And the girls like the show… to a point. But I think they were expecting a little more princess life, and in this sense, they are much better with Barbie or Sofia.

The Rapunzel in the show is all but a classic princess. Not only she’s barefoot and travels in a caravan, she has some serious issues to work on – doubt, self-doubt, uncertainty, betrayal, fear, anger, coexistence, injustice… and some crazy magic powers that don’t heal or create beautiful snow or are incrusted in a beautiful stone connected to the princesses of the past or to the sea. No: her “magic” is pointy black rocks that bring destruction and a huge hair that spreads around her head like menacing snakes when she wakes up. It’s ugly, dangerous magic that we don’t usually see connected to a princess.

I kind of got lost somewhere, but it’s just that there is so much to say about this show that I end up getting too excited.

In a nutshell, I love Tangled the Series and if Disney’s purpose with it was to sell merchandise, well, I did my part. However, I think this show deserves more love from Disney; a different kind of love. A different approach, different time slots. Try to get teens and adults into it, guys. I know we are not the main audience, and we usually don’t buy merch, but this show is such a treasure, it deserves more recognition. Spread the word, share this gift of empowerment and good storytelling.

And just give us a date for season 3. Pretty please!

(long text. so annoying. If you read this far, you are a dear <3. Also, sorry, English is not my first language)

September 2019 Lucky Treat!

Well here we are guys, finally! As it turns out, I was supposed to get this on my birthday (the 15th) and it came, but at the time I was taking a nap because I was gone most of the day and I felt really tired when I got home. So they showed up around 6pm but nobody answered the door, and since I had to sign for it they left.

This isn’t the first time this has happened, I somehow miss foreign packages I need to sign for <_< my mom and I argue over this every time, and as I expected it didn’t come the next day. I wasted 2-3 hours stalking the front door and not leaving the room at all for anything. So yesterday morning we picked it up, but it just wasn’t a good day to try to post this.

It’s also the reason why my next review hasn’t been posted but you can expect to see that later today. So for now, let’s focus on this!

As a reminder I won’t be reviewing these items due to them being sent for free. I’ll just be showing them and giving my opinions.

(Note the Kawaii Box I’m supposed to review in the background...)

Okay, so as you can see this is exactly how it arrived. I initially assumed it would be one large box, so I was actually relieved to see it consisted of 2 medium-sized boxes. Both were light weight and easy to carry.

Japan Haul, for anyone unfamiliar with the name or new to the blog is the online store belonging to the branding that makes Tokyo Treat, YumeTwins, NMNL. You can find a lot of the box items, as well as some unique items on there, which is why I try to recommend you check it out if you’re ever interested in the items from those boxes. There wasn’t any special papers or anything in the box, but each of them had an “order summery sheet“ and a sheet of protective Styrofoam on the bottom.

Before I begin I wanted to mention that usually there’s a “value“ depicted in the information or picture for the Lucky Treat, but this one didn’t have it. On each box it says their values were 1000yen, so combined I think that might be $200.00? I don’t know much about foreign currency so don’t quote me on it.

-------

Mew Plushie & Vulpix Plushie

Anyone who reads this blog knows that I am OBSESSED with Vulpix/Rokon- it was the reason I just had to have this box, and it hasn’t left my side since I opened the one it was inside. It was true love from the day we met; I have various Vulpix items, including a smaller plush from a KFC promotion when I was a kid, a couple toy items, stickers, coloring book pages, and several TCG cards in both English and Japanese~

About a year or so back they were featuring Vulpix (normal and Alola) in Japanese merch. I’ve always wanted to visit Japan, but that was probably when I wanted it the most.

The plush is pretty big (although I know in comparison to the Mew it doesn’t look it), it’s the perfect lap size~ It’s also very soft, with fluffy material for the hair and tails that is a combination of rose swirls and tufts. The tails are one solid piece with lines between them to give them the feel of individual pieces, but the curled portions are separated. I love love love love love it~

--------

So as you can tell, Vulpix isn’t the only plush we got in this months box :3 in fact we got a handful more to go- including this really big Mew Plush. Currently this is the second biggest Pokemon Plush I own, it’s a few inches taller than the piplup I won at the fair a few years back, but smaller than the Meowth I got when I was a kid.

This plush is made from the same fabric as the vulpix but lacks the fluffy hair accents. The sewn details are perfect, it’s feet are properly stuffed and a little floppy, while its super-long tail is sewn to the back, so I assume it would dangle if I cut the strings. He’s great for hugs.

Flaaffy Plushie & Mini Eeevee Plushie

We got 2 more Pokemon plushies, including this very small Flaaffy plush~ It’s like the Vulpix in which it has normal plush fabric, and slightly softer fabric for the wool on its neck and head. It’s stitching and details are great, it’s a really good quality plushie.

According to its tag it’s part of a Pokemon Fit line. I never heard of it so I don’t really know what it contains- but I think it’s adorable how out of the 4 Pokemon it’s normally the biggest, and here it’s the smallest. It fits in the palm perfectly. 

------

Our final Pokemon plushie is an adorable, fluffy Eevee. I really like Eeevee and its eeveelutions, and I really liked playing Let’s Go Eeevee! so this was a lovely surprise; now if only I had some items to make it match mine~

It’s well made and very cute and sweet looking, and according to the tag this came out last year- probably for Let’s Go Eeevee :P It’s a big bigger than Flaaffy, but still fits in the palm nicely. I can’t decide if I like its fluffy neck fur or huge tail more~

Kopiyo Friends Cushion

This is our last plush-based item in the box, an adorable cushion themed after an adorable birdie. From Kopiyo Friends there was a variety of various birds you could get in this set, but for Lucky Treat it was this specific... parakeet? It looks like the ones I used to have when I was little, so I’ve been calling it that.

 It’s a good size for a pillow (head, lap, legs, etc) and it’s stuffed enough to feel marshmallowy squishy, and it stretches a little bit. It was very comfortable, and it makes for a nice secondary pillow you can cuddle with.

Solgaleo Figure & Mewtwo Mug

If you guys couldn’t tell this box was almost entirely Pokemon oriented :3 and to go with our plushies, we have a Solgaleo figurine from the latest handheld Pokemon games (until sword and shield comes out anyway). It’s from the Moncolle-EX collection of Pokemon figures... and that’s pretty much all I can say other than it’s paint quality is great. I’m not sure about the figure quality itself because I won’t be removing it from the packaging. I might give it to my friend, who bought this version of the game. 

-----

Now this next item goes with the Mew I got, and I think they were both made to celebrate the upgraded/updated Mewtwo Strikes Back movie. I know my picture quality of this sucks, but I was kind of on a time crunch at this point... and by that I mean, I had cats going crazy in the background trying to get in my way and play with the boxes <_<

The mug has a very detailed, mood-setting picture for the movie. I have to admit it’s not really my style (CUTIEcrates probably says it all right?), but I do like it as a Pokemon fan and I’ll find a use for it.

Gengar Mask & Pokemon Memo

Now this is an item perfect for this time of the year, as well as when I clean or when the allergies hit (where was it during summer when I needed it?!). I did have one mask from a really old DokiDoki, but I have no clue where that went.

I love Gengar (at this rate it’s easier just to say every Pokemon in this box are ones I like, nearly), so this is a cute, funny little item. It’s a nice, padded mask with two layers of filtered-like fabric over the part covering your nose and/or mouth. I’m not really sure if they serve a purpose (maybe filtering dust or scent or something?) but they have a nice clean smell.

----

We can’t forget the stationery items now :3 and to go with all of our Pokemon goodness we have a notepad with 4 sets of 8 different designed papers! They easily tear apart and come from the Pokemon World Market series, featuring the various Pokemon from various regions hanging out and having fun.

Pokemon World Market Re-Ment & Colorful Ramune Blind Bag

I’m assuming the Pokemon World Market is a current series/collection :3 because next we have an adorable re-ment set. I miss getting re-ments in the boxes, so this was very exciting. Like the notepad, these were based on various regions foods, Pokemon, and activities. Such as the one I got, the Kanto region, having a bike, a Poke Flute, and a Pokemon Doll. Each one also includes a map of the specific region.

If you were curious, here are what the others had: 

2. Squirtle Watering can, toy, milk, manju/dorayaki?

3. Torchic, Rice cracker, Pokeblock storage, and what looks like an envelope and ticket.

4. Piplup, helmet, shovel, what looks like chocolate, and Poffins.

5. A Pokedoll, a ferris wheel toy, and ice cream.

6. Pokedoll, food, skates, and the girl trainers hat.

7. A book or magazine with Snorlax, a toucan measuring piece(?), a bowl or fruit in a box, and an Alola Exeggutor pen with base.

Now compared to the others, mine feels pretty simple. But the detail on each piece is amazing; I could look at re-ments all day~ I really wish I could display mine, but I just don’t have a safe place or any room for them at the time. As much as I think a re-ment subscription box would be fun, I’m kinda glad they don’t have one of those :P I’d be in trouble.

-------

Now, this is a Tokyo Treat special box, of course there has to be a couple food items~ and first up is a Pokemon, Wobbuffet bling bag candy tin, which features 6 different designs that feature Wobbuffet interacting with various Pokemon. They’re all so cute!

But lookie lookie, did you notice which one I got~? The special mystery one :D I’m not sure if that was intentional or not, but I thought it was a fun additional surprise.

There are 3 flavors of candy, including a blue ramune/soda, yellow... I think lemon (but it could be banana? It doesn’t taste like it though), and a pinkish-red one that I couldn’t identify. It might be cola, because it tastes like a nasty cola Japanese candy DIY I tried a couple years back- one of the only cola flavors I didn’t like. But the candies are pretty good, even that weird might be cola one.

Pokemon Nori Chips & Dragonball Super Candies

Given the few Non-Pokemon items in the box, I was surprised to see this Dragonball themed candy. These come in a tin-like piece similar to old-style Japanese fruity hard candy. I’ve seen them several times but never had them before- and let me tell you, it’s a picnic trying to open these! You’ll definitely want a pen or scissors or a cornered object or something, nails are not recommended though. But maybe mine are just wimpy. The good news is that you don’t have to worry about them spilling.

Anyway, these are just cute orange spherical candies with a simple orange-ish flavoring to them. It’s not overly sweet or tangy, so it’s good if you like a mild candy.

-----

To kick up the snacks, we also have some curry-flavored Nori Chips/Seaweed. They come in this adorable Pokemon tin featuring Pikachu and some other impressive pokemon, and the inside is lined by pleated paper. The tin is 71.0 calories.

The seaweed/nori is thin, but in 2 layers, with curry flavored powder/substance between them. If you don’t like the taste of curry or seaweed you probably won’t like these, but if you do then you will. I actually really like eating seaweed as a snack, and curry is pretty yummy so I really like them x3 they’re not spicy, but it seems to pick up heat the more you eat of them. They’re also very crunchy.

Pokemon Tote

We also have some fun apparel, including a Pokemon Tote by the brand Outdoor Products, which has been in business since 1973 apparently. It includes a rainbow variety of colorful Pokemon from a few different generations making a variety of poses. I think there’s 2 per Pokemon. The bag also features a velcro strap to hold it shut, and it’s a medium-big size, so it would come in handy for a lot of stuff.

Pokemon Mini Bath Towel

To go with the Pokemon World Market collection, we also have this adorable and colorful mini-bath towel featuring all the different regions Pokemon having a fun time playing and checking things out at their respective hangouts x3

Despite the name, this thing couldn’t be fit into a single picture without losing a lot of detail, so I had to settle for this. It’s very soft fabric, I’m very eager to begin using it because it’ll go great with that set of Pokemon wash clothes I got a few months back.

------

Okay guys, that will be it for now! What did you think, was this Lucky Treat good? I really wish the other subscribers could have won this too because it was very fun and exciting- I still can’t believe i won it!

However, I did notice an item is missing. There was also supposed to be a pair of Pokemon Socks that I didn’t find in either box. I checked multiple times, and I couldn’t find anything to say the item was removed from the box, so I don’t know what happened. I messaged them about it, but because this was entirely free, I don’t actually mind the mistake. It happens... of course, if it had been my Vulpix then heads would roll.

Just kidding :P Anyway, I’ll keep you guys updated on that. Until later, remember to hug a Pokemon!

its weird how like my fave genre of games could be vaguely categorized as ‘nurturing things’ yet i fuckin hated every single thing of that kind that was pushed on me as a child

like hell yes i love pet games and games where you get customization and a sense of progress on building your character, and like even i like ‘parent games’ when they’re that sort of thing instead of just weird shoddy gross baby diaper changing bullshit. Like wtf who on earth even wants a game about raising a kid where you don’t get to see them grow up and graduate high school and make you proud in one of 63 careers?? seriously i am still so salty that this is such an underutilzed genre and i still have to play creepy anime fanservice dos games from the 90s cos thats ALL I HAVE. Why u showing my perfect sweet videogame child in creepy fanservice costumes I JUST WANT TO SUPPORT HER ACADEMIC LIFE

but anyway lol WHAT I MEAN IS

even though i LOVE that stuff i fuckin hate all that cliche ‘girl toy’ bullshit I love character customization but I hate it when its framed as ~lol girls just inherantly love fashion oo catty girl time~ and you only have this one stupid sexist creepy giant boobs doll and no customization except costumes and the only costume options are either sexualized or really stereotypically ‘girly’ and also you have to be rich as fuck to buy all these stupidly overpriced individual outfit packs and then you cant even DO anything with your barbie! at least in a videogame you can have the novelty of replaying the same cool fantasy adventure with your different characters, and like.. it has actual substance BEYOND just the customization! And I mean you can see your customization in action in a 3D environment and having a Story and Cool Powers and a voice and animations and all that jazz! And interacting with canon characters without having to buy all those separately too, and then do terrible impressions of the voiceacting from the show on your own... cos man that’s what i used to actually do with any ‘girl toys’ i was given, i saw absolutely ZERO appeal in having fifty ordinary houses where you can do nothing but sit barbie on a damn chair and gossip about husbands or whatever. Like fuck that’s already lazy and awful cos you’re telling the kid to make up their own reasons to find any enjoyment from the damn toy, but at least cliche ‘boy toys’ got like... a story template. And one that;s actually interesting and involves fighting n shit, and their accessories actually GIVE THE TOY NEW FEATURES but yeah like even making up a whole new story about barbie being a superhero got boring quick, cos she wasn’t remotely relateable or interesting. Like I’m glad that nowadays they do more with the character but even if they’ve fixed some of the predjudiced shit she’;s still.. not interesting?? just gone from cliche fashion boring to absolutely personalityless ‘good role model’ with no defining traits whatsoever. So I used to just destroy barbies or make her the villain in everything, and had a big box of naked barbies with missing legs and stuff while i gave all their accessories to all the pokemon and digimon. Still really pissed at how few of the outfits would fit on Impmon! Seriously it sucks that also all the good ‘boy toys’ were really stereotypically macho in one way or another so i was barely ever allowed to have them and i felt like they hated me even when i did get to play with them. And the only tv shows at the time that I liked that weren’t ‘for girls’ or ‘for boys’ were pokemon and digimon, which were still kinda treated as ‘for boys’ but didn’t even get the ‘boys style’ of merchandise. like barely ever poseable dolls that i could use in more creative play, they were just like collectables you put on the mantlepiece. I WOULD HAVE KILLED FOR CYNTHIA NENDOROID BACK THEN!!! i used to break all my damn digimon trying to fit them into lil outfits or throw them around doing battles, and then i made myself hella sad. I’m sad I don’t still have that super broken but extremely loved patamon transformer doll, that thing was THE BEST! like man why did they stop doing those after the first season?? actually digivolving your digimon was the best damn idea! did they get sued by transformers or something...??? and I mean GEEZ its not like I didn’t like cute stuff or hugging stuff or being nurturing or friendly or whatever people claim is the ‘wholesome value’ that female stereotypes teach kids. but man all that shit just ruined the stuff i loved! its so alienating! and why is it always super low quality and limited?? fuckin Baby Alive Really Pees And Poops,And Does Nothing Else Ever And Has No Personality. yeah girls you sure wanna see only the bad sides of nurturing and be told over and over that your life is gonna be nothing but this as soon as you inevitably start wanting to marry boys, which is totally gonna happen according to every damn adult, and will feel like a death sentence to any kid with any other sexuality. like I fuckin got my Official Digimon Tamagotchi and it was like the whole world opened up to me, like wow Pets Can Actually Do Things Other Than Shit. And i mean at least in an lcd game thing the pet shitting actually serves some damn purpose and provides resource management gameplay to decide what evolutions you get, instead of just Somehow You Should Enjoy Changing Diapers, You Little Fuck. I loved that tamagotchi so much i fuckin broke it too, like WHY WAS KID BUNNI KRYPTONITE TO TOYS?? the battery crapped out cos like i held it too tightly and the case on the back got loose?? so it’d short circuit whenever it went into sleep mode and wipe all my save data. and i still kept playing even though i could never digivolve anyone beyond their first stage before it glitched out. And then I got THE PLAYSTATION VERSION WITH ALL THE GRAPHICS and just AAAAAA it was like the best fuckin thing ever. and Monster Rancher!! and Princess Maker!! kid me could spend 60 straight hours looking after nonexistant babies and talking dinosaurs and cry like a damn bitch when they died so DONT TELL ME I’m lacking in healthy nurturing skills just because i don’t wanna be mr marketing guy’s fucked up idea of a straight woman...

...man sorry this post turned into a really weird rant why did i think about this at 1am

also like even flash game internet dollmakers are better than the cliche stereotype dolls they were based on god I’m perfectly fine with collecting a bunch of things if they’re not forcing some offensive message down my throat! i still remember how confused and pissed off i was when i figured out that my little pony was supposed to be A Gender Thing too, like geez they’re fuckin horses. and the show was actually like THE ONLY THING i was allowed to watch that had actual adventures and fighting monsters and stuff! its so bad and minimal now that i look back on it, but like man it was all I had. No wonder i got so into pokemon when it came out, look here’s a thing to collect that’s all ABOUT fighting monsters! i always wanted figurines of the monsters from those dumb girly shows, it was so annoying that MLP g1 had that episode about ‘oh the Crabnasties are people too, they’re not evil just because they look gross’ and then WHERE IS MY COLLECTABLE CRABNASTIES THEN?? WHY CANT I PUT CUTE ACCESSORIES ON THEM?? fuck u that was the most memorable episode also actually why did i have to wait so many pokemonn generations for a crab that appealed to me? krabby is so boring, its just a crab with weird human eyes. and i’m inexplicably creeped out by that one from gen 3 cos its like an optical illusion, i thought the markings were its face! thank the gods for crabominable and also damn the gods for it being hated by 90% of the fandom for reasons I will never understand :( ...BUT STILL WHERE IS MY CRABOMINABLE BEAUTY PARLOR PLAYSET YO

fuck its 1am why am i still awake why can’t i stop thinking about dragon quest 9 but you play as crabs THAT WAS THE BEST FASHION SIMULATOR EVER, DAMMIT

The Rabbit Hole

(for my friend that asked to remain nameless)

Just west of Colorado Springs, Colorado is a town tucked so neatly on the side of a mountain that the entire place rests on a slope. Buildings look half as tall on one side as they do the other. Ma’ & Pa’ shops and taverns line the main street, while houses hang off cliff sides. Usually, walking the streets is a nearly perfect 50/50 mix of locals and outsiders, and it’s obvious who's whom. It's like one part hemp jewelry and sun skirts and the other part Fossil watches and Polo t-shirts. Not today though; it’s raining. No one’s out. So this visiting burlesque performer—whom I’ll refer to as "Ms. International" (because she’s a professional performer who trots the globe)—she and I stay in the car and watch the slanted town just as one would a movie at a drive-in theatre: through the windshield.

After Colorado, Ms. International tells me, she and a handful of other burlesque stars are going to Australia for a two-week tour. Burlesquers in the "land down under" makes me think about the rabbits Westerners took there and offset the ecosystem. I imagine burlesque with no known predators in Australia, resting at the top of the food chain and disrupting the order. I hope your guide there is better than I am here, I say to her, referring to the limited information I provide of the town as it plays on the windshield screen. Then I’m off the rabbits and on to bigger thoughts, thinking about how burlesque is conquering the planet these days like colonialism, imperialism, and capitalism. All “–isms” of Western affairs—Burlesque-ism, brought in for sport and game only to multiply exponentially and cause chaos among the natives.

Through the rainy windshield the buildings bleed together and become one, washing into a collage until it all looks like the same mess. I mention the rumors about the little town having more Pagans than any other city in the nation — another really bad tour guide informational bit. Not like devil-worship Pagans, I clarify, more like earthy hippies. And Ms. International’s quick to say she understands. There’s only a moment’s pause before she slides her eyes toward me beneath her droopy Jessica-Rabbit-like eyelids, sort of the way a crook in a cartoon would when looking around to make sure no one was suspicious of the crime about to be committed. Then she says out of the side of her mouth, I practice Santeria, ya know.

I don’t know.  All I know is the moment she says she practices Santeria that Sublime song jingles inside my head. I don’t let her know this song reverbs in my skull and gets stuck on repeat of the only four lines I know from it, even as our conversation continues. But the guy in the song says he does not, in fact, practice Santeria anyway, and he also ain’t got no crystal ball. But Ms. International immediately has my curiosity in the palm of her hands like a crystal ball, clouded and hazy and swirling about, ready to discover some fortune.

I remember another line in the song, something about poppin’ a cap in Sancho and slappin’ a chick down, and I ask Ms. International exactly what Santeria is. For some reason Voodoo comes to mind, I tell her. The song loses its lyrics, limited as they are, and becomes a hum in my head. Background music. Score for the film melting on the glass movie screen before us.

And so she gives me a history lesson — more informative than, but about as brief as, my tour guiding of the rain soaked town - which, by the way, we are no longer giving much attention to since this Santeria bit is far more intriguing and has an internal soundtrack, same four vocal lines mixed with bad humming as it may be. While both were heavily influenced by Africans via the slave trade, Voodoo grew from the mixture of cultures in Haiti. Santeria, she explains, grew from almost the same mixture, only in Cuba, so a dash more Spanish - which inevitably means a dash more Catholic. It’s what the slightest difference in any recipe will do, I’m thinking, wondering about an offset of the slanted mountain town’s perfect mixture of Pagans and Yuppies, thinking neither is like the rabbits in Australia since they seem to have created a perfect ecology of economic trade; perhaps this is a capitalistic version of Santeria.

Sancho better run and hide if he knows what’s good for him, because daddy’s got a new .45!

She tells me how the slaves would pray to the Catholic idols. Little bobble-head figurines of The Virgin and other saints, I’m imagining, thinking that at the bottom level of a ship at sea, bobble-heads would really sway and look alive. They we’re actually praying to their own gods, she says (only Ms. International doesn’t say, gods, she says, Orishas). They used the Catholic saint figurines as disguises, she continues. So long as the Spanish crew thought they were praying to their completely non-fictional santos and not some make-believe Pagan gods, then they would permit the slaves their prayer.

This, to me, I say, is all religions. Rain soaked and bleeding together. A chimera bobble-head with the hair of its main swaying over its goat-like body and serpent tail. They all borrow images and ideas from one another. The town through the windshield. Silver screens and drive-ins. Christians in Australia — they took more than rabbits for game to hunt; they took the fucking Easter Bunny too. An entire ecosystem ruined.

Of course my ignorance of Voodoo makes me think about pinpricked dolls and headless chickens. And so now I have an image of Pinhead from Hell Raiser as a bobble-head dancing on my dashboard. Its head swings to Caribbean grooves that come from some white guy singing about sticking the barrel of his .45 straight down Sancho’s throat, like a needle in a cursed doll.

My silly thoughts do not hide my true interest though. I’m rather intrigued by this new knowledge, this history and philosophy and religion all meshed together: a syncretism — a new “–ism” in the confinement of my car. I want to keep Ms. International talking. Teaching me. Her knowledge is like wild hares escaping to Aboriginal planes.

I respectfully ask Ms. International if she believes in or practices any kind of sacrificial killings. A question logically in sync with my ignorance. I do in fact make offerings to certain Orishas, Ms. International says (only, I now know Orisha means god). Each Orisha requires specific offerings for specific blessings. An offering means you give something up and is very much a sacrifice in this way, but, she says, killing animals is done only by high ranking spiritual leaders — Santeros, Babalawo, and others in the hierarchy — those atop the food chai. And it’s only done in very rare occasions.

When you give something up, something is given in return, Ms. International says. And when you take away from others, something is taken from you. So taking the life of any creature carries great risk.

Now I’m thinking about American Indians saying thank-you prayers to a dying buffalo as they rip its heart out, then making use of every square inch of its body. This is Eucharist type-a-shit. To be at one with the Earth in this way. The universe. Buddhism comes to mind. Hippies. Yuppies. Hindus. Karma. Christ on the cross. It’s all watered down and drenched, bleeding together as one. And even though I don't admit it, I think about that Cosby girl, Lisa Bonet, in that movie Angel Heart, dancing around a camp fire in some Voodoo trance while strangling a headless chicken. And still, that fucking song, jingling away about Sancho stealing his girl. But now, this deep in the hole with Ms. International, I see that just as Sancho has taken, so shall he soon lose something - lost via the barrel of a .45 straight down his punk ass throat.

It all comes together in a way that makes sense. And I tell Ms. International one of my favorite quotes from Ralph Waldo Emerson: "Man recedes as fast on one side as he gains on another." Technology, I say, is a perfect example (though this comes from no place of wisdom on my part since Emerson uses the Geneva watch as an example in the essay this quote is from: "Self-Reliance"). Look at all the world around us and how it developed new and fascinating amenities; we can travel by car, plane, and boat, but we’ve lost the ability to walk great distances; we can send emails, text, and Twitter but we no longer speak verbally to one another. Man has a fine Geneva watch, Emerson says, but he can no longer tell time by the sun itself. And I’m thinking about the slanted town’s people, one half with hemp bracelets and the other half with Fossil watches. Neither can tell time by the sun. And with this and so many other similarities and offset relationships, both sides bleed together and become the same mess. I recognize truth in Emerson’s claim; I always have. I explain to Ms. International that I also believe the opposite to be true. Emerson says that through any gain, a loss naturally occurs; and so contrarily, I believe that through a loss, so too would a gain occur. A sacrifice. Whether given or taken. One and the same.

I realize that I myself do believe in sacrifices, Karma, Jesus on a stick, Pagan witches burning on a stake, bobble-head shish-kabobs. It’s all the same, I say to Ms. International. Hypnotized by the water on the windshield. Every inch of Christ's body was used like a buffalo, salvation for those still living, feeding off his remains. Flesh of my flesh. Here and now. Give and ye shall receive. Eye for an eye and all that shit. We are all Pagan Christian Santeriaist Voodoo Children of the Corncob Buddhists. All of us—floppy-eared mutant beasts offsetting ecologies because we have no known predators. Even Ms. International, as she sits in my car, changes me with new knowledge like wild hares on my plane head. It's what we hope education will do. Experience and awareness passed between us to bring us all together and make us one and the same. A mess. A collage. Watered down. And in this way, we are all soaked the same with Truth. All of us are like rabbits in Australia, something in a foreign land burrowing holes and multiplying, wreaking havoc where order resides, and destroying the natural habitat of ignorance.

I just didn’t know...

So, not a lot of you really know me. I think most people follow me for the Critical Role, and gaming stuff I repost from other people. I hardly ever post something myself. And because of this, and because i feel like i need to atleast write this, this is the best place to put it. Its ok if no one reads it, but here it goes.

I have always had a big imagination. I was always the quiet, A honor roll student that always obeyed her parents, and wanted nothing more than to make them proud. While making homework and whatnot, i would watch my older brother draw. He is an amazing artists, and i remember feeling like nothing compared to him. He was better than me at everything i loved. Art, video games, he had a big group of friends that got together almost every day. The only thing i could do better was coloring. It also really annoyed me how my brother would draw these amazing pictures, but in the faintest pencil markings. I was always telling him, “You draw so awesome! Why not make it noticeable enough for people to actually see it?” He always shrugged and said that he didnt care if people didnt see it. I did care. I always looked up to my brother, and i wanted other people to know how good he was. So i asked him if i could make his drawings darker, by giving them a second pass of my own. Not altering the drawing, but simply making the lines darker. He agreed. So i started drawing his drawing all over again, until they were noticeable. Then he would ask me to color them, and i would. He got to sell a lot of his art at fairs and stuff.

I did have friends. I had a group of 4 guy friends in elementary school, who i spent lunch reading Harry Potter books with. I also had 2 girl friends that were my neighbors, who i would “play” barbies with. They would bring their Barbies and all their accessories, and i would bring my Link figurine. The one you could order from the OoT Zelda pamphlet. It was so boring... All they wanted was to dress up the dolls and all that. I wanted to have adventures! 

Never happened with them, or my friends in school.

Later i moved to the US, and i went to middle school, where i met my future girlfriend. I remember so vividly that she said i looked like a whore for dressing up in a dress for a school dance. She was not a good person. But i stuck around. She was different and we would talk about anime and manga. We had this thing that we would do during class in which i would draw a stick figure on a page and pass it to her, who would add a stick figure of her own, interacting with mine. If was amazing! It didnt matter what either of us added to the page, the other would just go with it and continue adding to this story we made together. 

Heh, you could say that my first OCs were literal stick figures. 

We continued friends until high school, where something strange happened. I say strange cuse i dont know of anyone else personally that did this, other than us. I started embodying my OCs. I would say that “Cyn” was in her room, and someone else was possessing my body for the time being. But not just anyone, it was my own characters. People i thought would be best suited to face things than little meek me. Be it school stuff, family stuff, working out, ditching class, even my personal relationship with my girlfriend. She was also doing the same. Acting as her own OCs. I dont know how it started, but it just did. and we kept it up for a long time. All through high school, really. Up until she broke my heart. But it was strange because the girlfriends relationship was between some of out OCs, but not all of them. Some would actively ignore the other, while others just wanted each other in more ways than one. 

I cared so much for her, that i allowed her to rope me into her family drama. It took over my life so much that i had completely replaced my own loving family with her broken one... I say that she broke my heart, and she really did. But i feel like it was the best thing she could have done for me. Experiences with her made me grow up from the perfect little girl that makes her parents proud to a girl that apparently had split personalities.

When she left... I was kind of lost. Having so many personalities out in the open as someone else taking care of my problem didnt work anymore. I didnt want to sound like a crazy person by telling people, “Im not Cyn, im _______.” I realized i had to grow up and admit to myself that it was just me, and i was being the person i wanted to be with the excuse that it was someone else. Because i was nothing. It took me years to get over that. I still sometimes find myself talking to one of my personalities, having full conversations and confrontations. I still feel like it helps me.

Anyways, when me and my grilfriend broke up, i found a new friend. She and I were part of a group of friends that self-published a manga magazine. We organized some OCTs and all that. It was cool.

In one of those OCTs, i met a guy from the other side of the world. We started RPing with each other and started creating this world together that i loved so much that we opened the chat RP to other of our friends from the OCTs. It later turned into a forum RP in this cute website that ran for 1000+ forum pages. If you could see us. All sitting at a table with out computers, like a LAN party, but were just RPing in type. Waiting for each other to post our next thing, and refreshing the page over and over again to keep reading the story. 

Eventually, the forum story reached stagnation with the other characters in the story, so me and my friend took it out to a two person roleplay chat once again. 

We roleplayed with each other for 6 years. This consumed my life just as the other personalities did. I would be with family, but my face on my phone, roleplaying and creating this world that it was just ours. And it was built for years and years, building upon the world i had created since elementary. It was this amazing place that only the two of us knew.

Then i started watching critical role and i wondered if i could do that! Roleplay with other people, maybe bring them into my world.

My first DM experience was typical. I over prepared, and made the encounters so hard that my friends ended up just abandoning the mission and not wanting to play anymore. Atleast not with me as a DM. 

I was nothing again.

So i let my friend be the DM, and i became a player in the world i had helped create for years. Mostly because she didnt like how i was managing the world myself. She wanted control of it, so she took it. I felt like shit about that, but i was not going to be a petty as her. This was just a game. It was not going to mess with the ‘canon lore’ of our imaginary world no one else knew as well as us.

Anyways, it is predictable that we had a falling out, and strangely stopped talking over night. My family had always told me how they felt like my friendship with her was holding me back, and i was determined to not allow that to happen. The loss of her friendship would not stagger me. I am stronger than that. I am strong.

......

I started DMing again. With only one player. The one guy from my group of high school friends that i would have never expected to stay friends with me or willing to face my crazy world alone. But he did! I felt like an idiot that i never took his friendship seriously. He deserved better from me. (btw, Hi, dude!) I DMed a game for him for almost six months, until i felt confident that i knew how to DM better, and he felt like he needed help.

I decided to not invite people we already knew... This was something new, me opening my crazy and letting people play in the world i would escape to in my mind. People we knew would judge me for being broken. Strangers would get to know me like this, and hopefully understand that this is normal for me. 

This was the best thing i could have ever done.

I made that world my own. I erased the places that hurt me and replaced them with adventures and so many new faces. NPCs. Names of people changed, their stories changed, I changed. 

Now i have a group of players that have just finished the first campaign in my world. A 2 year long campaign. And they wanted to return to that world immediately, now having started Campaign 2 without even missing a single session. Not only that, but they ask me for extra sessions! They cant get enough! They are excited to be there and experience the story i will present them! I didnt know... people would like it. 

I asked them what kind of DM they would describe me as. They agreed on “The Depressing DM”. The one that makes them face harsh consequences and situations that challenge their morality. I... I didn’t describe myself as happy until i dropped my old relationships, when out on my own with my world, and found new adventurers. I have always felt loved by my family, but i never thought others could love what i do. I still cant believe it is real. I am actually happy. They want me around because of who i am, what i do, and what i give them. I wished i had known sooner... But i am glad i know now. I am so grateful for my players, my friends. Thank you for welcoming me with such open minds, and joining my game. You guys make me happy. :)

Check

Skeptic If you're anything like I was, you can read a hundred of these scary stories and not be too disturbed. Spooky dolls mischievously grinning at you? Check. Ancient secrets revealed in some simple ritual? Check. Something from beyond coming for you, now that the author told you about it? Check. Its just words on a page, right? Yeah I used to think that too. In fact, I used to be just like you, enjoying each and every spooky fix and spine shiver that M. Night Shyamalan and Stephen King had to offer. I don't do that anymore, not after last year. It happened completely randomly. I was just off from working a extended shift at a shipping warehouse. I didn't own a car, so I had to rely on either a buddy of mine picking me up or taking the public bus for two hours home. Turns out the management had overestimated the amount of work they had for us, which meant we'd get off early. To everyone else, that was great news. To me, that meant I had to wait for 2 to 3 hours before my buddy could come get me. Either that, or take the bus and get home about half an hour early. I figured it was a wash either way, so I decided to wander around downtown for a while. No sooner than ten minutes of wandering and I find one of those Psychic palm reader studios, or whatever they're called. Remember, back then I didn't believe in any of this nonsense. I was planning on putting down five bucks and letting them bullshit me for twenty minutes. I knew what I doing; or at least I thought I did. Don't get me wrong, up until I actually sat down in front of the psychic, they put on a good show. Darkened rooms, talked in whispers, the whole nine yards. It even had a fairly modern tone to it all. No billowy smoke coming out from under the table or some stupid shit like that. You'll never guess what the psychic said when I finally walked in the room to meet her though. "I can't take your money," her words had a plainness to them, like it was a simple statement of fact. Somewhere, deep in my collective 26 years of experience, I remembered something a buddy told me about old cons. 'The best way to convince someone to give you money is to convince them you don't want it.' Throws off their guard. "Why's that?" I asked, pensively. "You don't believe," she replied. I looked her up and down. No funny wig. No stupid hooped earrings. She was actually somewhat slender too, with dark hair and deep brown eyes. Had I met her anywhere other than here, I might have tried to pick her up. The only couple of things to set the 'tone' of the place were the dim lights and faint incense on the table in the back of the room. After some back and forth, she agreed to explain exactly what she meant. Magic, it seems, is a force of the mind. It has the power to do extraordinary things, but only to those that recognize its power. Things that we called 'faith' and 'paranormal' and all that are really just manifestations of our own inner power. It all boiled down to belief - Only if you actually believe in this mystical universal truth could you be affected by it. Skeptics, like me, were denied the benefits of self realization. She explained that was probably a good thing, as there were many skeptics in the world. "Why?" I asked, casually. "If Magic is as good as you say it is, what's the harm?" I guess I should have seen her answer coming. "Not all magic that can help or hurt someone comes from them," she explained. "You ever have people pray for you? Or wished ill on someone you didn't like? In a church they call it faith. Down south, they call it voodoo. I call it magic. But really, its just the power of the mind making things real." It wasn't a bad line, and I waited on the catch. You know, the part of the con where they ask you for all your money. I must have looked dirt poor, because she didn't ask me for any. Instead, she put a small, tan figurine in my hand. It was very plain, about half the size of my hand, like one of those plastic action figures you'd get at any department store, only slightly smaller. "This will be you," she explained. "If you want to open yourself to magic, all you have to do is wish kind thoughts for this doll. The more you believe your good karma will affect it, the more you will allow yourself to be affected by magic." I got up to leave. Somehow, we had already been there 45 minutes. As I was getting up to go, her face turned more serious and she leaned in, as if telling me a secret. "Just be sure this is what you want," she whispered. "Right now, it is as if there is a door between us, blocking us from seeing each other. The more you open that door, the more you will feel the effects of the divine upon you. And once you open yourself to this great mystery fully, it cannot be undone. You will find yourself more affected by prayers, more susceptible to the paranormal, more in tune with the occult." That last little bit unnerved me a little, but I quickly brushed it aside. I said my goodbye's, stuffed the little voodoo me doll into my pocket, and made my way back to meet my buddy. Naturally, I did what any rational thinking human being would do with a trinket like that; I stuffed it in a sock drawer and completely forgot about it. Most people would expect burying myself in effigy would cause some kind of real trauma, that's how magic works right? The catch though is that I didn't believe in it, so it had no power to do a damn thing. Without the power of the mind to empower it, it was just a poorly made G.I. Joe in my sock drawer. It must have been a couple of months later that I found the thing while quickly getting ready for work. Vaguely remembering the encounter with the cute psychic, I casually decided to put it up on my dresser and wish it a pleasant day. There was no earth shattering crescendo of good luck that followed. To be honest, I don't even remember whether I had a good day or not. But what did happen was that I was making a little game of wishing 'myself' good fortune every morning. For the next couple of months, things really started picking up for me. At first it was little things, like finding money or saying just the right thing at a party. Then it escalated into random good fortune. A friend of a friend hooked me up with a better job. I finally moved into a new apartment, which I came across by accident just before the owner listed it. I even found myself a new girlfriend. Her name was Cindy. Blue eyes, dusty blond hair and a tight ass. Not perfect, but fun to talk to. To be honest, that's where the trouble started, but not for the reasons you'd think. I had bumped into my dresser one day and accidentally knocked the little guy onto the floor. Picking him up, I noticed something odd. It was smiling. Not like Exorcist turned to face me and smile or any stupid shit like that, but I do remember when I got the damn thing that there was no expression at all on it. But now it had a slight grin, like what you would see on a Lego man or something. I counted it off to just not remembering correctly. I put my little effigy back on my dresser, gave it a goodbye kiss on the cheek and went on with my day. That weekend was the night my new-found girlfriend decided it was time to fuck me. Whatever came over Cindy was a little out of the ordinary, even for my standards. It was then, lying there naked and exhausted, that I started putting the pieces together. I had been obliviously engaging in this stupid little morning ritual, and my life had really taken a turn for the better. Hell, I was about to buy a car; a nice one too, if I could manage it. So I decided to put on a little experiment. On my way home, I went to a toy store and bought one of those little matchbox cars. Nothing too fancy, just a plain blue car. I stuck it under my little G.I. Joe and waited. It took about a week. A buddy of mine was down on his luck and needed some cash. He had just lost his job and had to unload his car. Not thinking at all about my little voodoo experiment, I went ahead to check the car out. He opened his garage and I took along look. Blue. And he was practically giving it to me. Had I at least a little good sense, I'd have turned him down and put that little doll back in the sock drawer. But I was on a 'voodoo' high. Driving the car home, I started to think of all the cool shit I was going to 'conjure' for myself. New clothes, nice raise ... hell, even a new girlfriend. Don't get me wrong, Cindy was a nice girl. But if I could have found myself a little plastic Courtney Hansen and red matchbox convertible ... well, you get the picture. So all this good shit was happening to me and I didn't even blink when Cindy broke up with me. She had good reason to; I had been kissing a gorgeous blond in the back room of our favorite hang out. 'Ah, to hell with her', I thought to myself. 'I've got fuckin voodoo, what'd I need her for anyway ....' I didn't get laid that night. Instead, in a drunken haze I had fallen over and ended up with a concussion. After spending the night at the hospital, I came home and crashed on my bed. "You let me down little guy," I joked, glancing over at my dresser. My little good luck effigy was gone. I wasn't hard to guess who took it. I had casually told Cindy about the little 'experiment' I was undergoing. You would think that she would take my house key and smash in my car windows or trash my room or something. Instead she takes my good luck charm. Turns out that was much worse. The next day, I'm standing in the shower, imagining all the terrible things she could do with my action figure, and I'm washing my hair. The water starts to feel especially hot. 'Not unusual', I think to myself. That can happen in an apartment building. Eyes closed, I reach over to turn the handle slightly and turn it down ... and the damn temperature goes up. When that happens to a person, the natural reaction is to yank the thing to cold, hard. As I grabbed the handle again, a searing pain shoots through my hand. Opening my eyes, I saw the handle practically smoking with heat. In the few seconds I had a grip on it, I had yanked the thing all the way to cold, and the damn thing was hot as an iron. So was the water. The only thing I could think to do was ungracefully eject myself from the shower by slamming through the side door. After carefully using an old broom handle to shut off the water, I went and checked my bedroom mirror to inspect the damage. I had 2nd degree burns all over my back and part of the upper side of my right arm. I knew the best thing to do was run it under some cold water; the trouble was finding some. Not trusting the plumbing, I used the water from my kitchen fridge, taping the handle to keep it open and redirecting it to my back by letting it flow down my arms. I must have looked like a complete idiot that morning. Next day, nothing. Other than scalded sores that itch like hell, I had a perfectly normal day. I had bandaged some of the bigger boils to keep myself from popping them. What I wanted to do was stretch my back out against that tree in front of our building and rake them all open, but my good sense knew that doing that would make them worse. God, they sure did itch though. I was coming home from work a day later when my instincts got the better of me and I accidentally popped one of those damn sores just under my arm. I could feel the small amount of fluid seep into my sleeve as I opened the front door to my apartment. I left the window open again. That usually meant mosquitoes. I reached up to pull it shut when I noticed - and felt - something skitter down my upper arm. I hated bugs. I once went an half hour out of my way to kill a housefly that had invaded my room when I was 16. As far as bug hunting goes, I was pretty good. But not noticing this little critter sooner and letting it get all the way to my back had me irked. It must have stopped moving because I couldn't 'sense' where it was anymore. I'd have introduced the whole of my back to the wall, but my recent injury and common sense prevented me from sending the little demon back to whatever bug hell awaited it. Besides, my burned back was too numb to be sure exactly where it was anyway. I felt movement again, this time at the left side of my back. Stripping off my shirt, I made my way into the bathroom and turned my back to the mirror. Strange. I couldn't see it. I could definitely 'feel' it there, but the combination of dim lighting and obscured vision (I was looking behind me at the mirror) made the bugger impossible to find. I was never very flexible, but I figured I could kill the damn thing anyway by simply reaching over and crushing it, regardless of sight. I lashed out with my right hand, my fingers landing squarely where I knew it was. There was a satisfying, ever so slight squish that let me know I'd struck gold. Breathing a sigh of relief, I reached over and flicked the light switch on. I could feel the slight trickle of more fluid on my back; I had accidentally popped another blister. Craning my neck, I used the mirror to find the spot on my left side where I'd smashed the bug. I felt movement again, this time on the right side of my back. But I couldn't SEE anything. Terrified that whatever it was could be under the bandages, I reached both arms over my head and stripped them off. The quick turning motion combined with the bandage tape had popped even more of my blisters. The bigger ones gave way, relief flooding over me as the itching subsided. That relief faded as I looked in the mirror. They weren't crawling on top of my sores, they were crawling out from them. Scores of teeny, tiny arachnids emerging from my open wounds, spreading out in many directions. I abandoned all sense of reason and threw myself at the opposite wall, contorting myself in as many positions as possible to crush the miniature invaders. As I squirmed, I could feel my other blisters break, revealing the insects within. They were all over me, breaking away in multiple directions to evade the certain death of my contorting frame madly arching against the wall. My next instinct was to jump into the shower, crank it to full and wash them off. I reached out for the handle and caught myself. 'Bad idea', I mumbled. A moment of clarity hit me, and I grabbed a washcloth off the basin before turning it on. Testing the water tentatively, I quickly ascertained it safe before jumping in. It was way too cold, but I had been used to short cold showers ever since I had been scalded. I quickly rinsed myself from head to toe and jumped out of the shower, making sure to remove my pants and shoes and scrub them out as well. With the cold water still running, I collapsed into a heap on the shower floor, weeping uncontrollably. I was shaking, both from the freezing cold water and knowledge that what I had just experienced was something very paranormal. When I had regained a bit of composure, I looked around the bathroom to find a complete disaster. Firstly, there was a huge Rorschach blot on the wall of smashed spiders, bodily fluids, and blood. The irony was palpable. Usually you took a Rorschach test to see if you were crazy. In this case, the markings on the wall were the undeniable proof that I was not. There were still loose spiders here and there. As I killed them, I came to a decision ... I had to make peace with Cindy. I knew it wouldn't be easy. I'd have to do a lot of apologizing. I didn't care; I had to get her to stop this stupid shit and leave me alone. I pulled the number off of my address list on my computer and nervously dialed. "Hello?" I heard her familiar voice and calmed my voice. "Hey, its me. Don't hang up," despite my best attempts, my voice was cracking. There was a long pause, then she spoke. "I'm still here," she seemed unusually calm. "I just ... I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am ...." I couldn't keep my composure. "I'm o.k. with it. I mean, I thought you were different; that we had a good thing, you know. But you're not the first guy to fuck around on me. If you're looking for closure or something, don't. I'm fine. I mean, I'm still a little pissed at you ...." Something was off. She started to trail off into some long explanation about moving on and being O.K. with herself, the way men are, and the whole world. Had we still been together, it'd have been a great philosophical discussion. Like I said, she's easy to talk to. But the strange thing was that this didn't sound like some crazy bitch who'd be pissed enough at me to start voddoo cursing crazy shit. No sooner than I realize this than she said something that instantly caught my attention: "...you know I was so mad that day that I stormed off without leaving you a note where your key was. I just left it in your sock drawer with your stupid 'me' doll, or whatever the hell you call it." I stammered, but not because I was broken up about her. "So, you're really O.K. then?" "Yeah. Sweet for you to call though. Believe it or not, I actually feel a bit better. Take care of yourself." "You too," I hung up the phone and dashed into my room. I ripped out the sock drawer and spread the contents on my bed. The little me doll spilled out, face down by my pillow. If Cindy didn't have it, and I didn't have it, who the hell was using it to fuck up my life so much. I turned the little bastard over, and saw that it was smiling even wider. Not a little Lego man smirk either. No casual smile this time. It was a full on, splayed wide, Joker meets Batman grin. Jesus fucking Christ. I could even see its little white teeth, fitting together loosely just the way mine did. I had to get rid of this thing. But how? If I stuffed it in a plastic bag and threw it in the river, would I meet the same fate? How do you dispose of your own voodoo doll? My stomach turned. Maybe that was the whole point of voodoo; the victim is so fucked over by the end of it all that it really doesn't matter what you do with the doll. There was only one person left who had any hope of exorcising this little evil me. I grabbed the cursed thing by the feet and grabbed my car keys. Being careful to lie it face down on the dash, I buckled my seat-belt and drove out into the night, making my way as quickly as possible to that psychic that had started this whole mess. I made a hard right turn on 5th avenue, the kind of jarring twist that spills your coffee in you lap. Little me responded by rolling across my dash, landing sideways in front of my steering wheel, face up. "You think you're REALLY fucking funny, don't you," I yelled at my effigy. The silence of the drive was only broken by the occasional thump of rubber tire against the pavement. "You goddamn Mattel reject. Answer me," I muttered. I looked over to see its eyes - my eyes - turned ever so slightly from its normal, straight ahead gaze. Although it was splayed horizontally out in front of my dashboard and facing the ceiling of the car, it was definitely looking right at me. "Goddamn it you little fucker! Just DIE!" I was just approaching the downtown intersection when I noticed I couldn't stop. My brakes had gone out. "Shit." Luckily for me, I was driving a manual. I started frantically downshifting and letting out the clutch, hoping the car's engine could slow me down enough in time to avoid the oncoming local downtown traffic. Forth gear. The hum of the overextended engine and jolt of the car did nothing to ease my panic. Third gear. Goddamn, those cars were getting close. Second gear. I felt a sense of relief. I may just hit them, but if I can time it o.k. it won't kill me. First gear. I sauntered up to the intersection and let the lack of gas stall the engine. It was flat ground, and I rolled to a stop. I was able to restart the engine, pull over, and find a metered parking spot. Little me had fallen on the floor, so I picked him up and - without looking at him - stuffed him into my pocket. My old work wasn't far from where I was, so I put my jacket on, got out of my car, and made the 10 minute walk there. It took me a while to find the place. I knew where I used to work. I knew it was within walking distance, and yet it still took me a good hour to finally find it. After entering, describing the person I had to talk to and finding a seat, I waited another good hour before she could finally see me. "Cracked the door open a bit I see," she remarked, looking me up and down. I explained to her about the figurine, the turn in luck, the girlfriend, the ex-girlfriend, everything. Some parts she even filled in for me before I could get them out. After it all, I jumped ahead to the thing that was really bothering me ... "What about the doll?" I inquired. "Let it go," she replied. "... the fuck? Seriously. Here there was a little me doll that is wishing all sorts of crazy shit on me, and the best you can give me is, 'let it go'?" She replied calmly, "It's a symbol. That's it. There are no rules to magic, only the ones you create. You think that little figure is you, it is. You let it go and it isn't. You fear it, and it becomes something more. No one wished good or bad karma on you, except yourself. The doll simply manifested the hopes and fears of your own mind. To be perfectly honest, you don't even NEED a doll, you can perform magic without it." So that was it. No stupid rituals. No demons that ate your entrails if you said a bunch of gibberish in the wrong order. No ghosts in the attic, no black eyed kids trying to get into your car. The only shit that could hurt you was the stuff that you conjured in your head. The reality -the real secret- is that the world we know is just one big mindfuck. I took the doll from out of my pocket and looked at it. No expression, no Joker style grin, just a innocent looking piece of plastic. I gave it to her, with my thanks and a big tip - probably more than I should have. But god-dam, I'd nearly died. If I can dream up all that stupid shit and nearly kill myself, there's no telling what an under-tipped psychic could do to me. It's a little more serious than a waitress spitting in your food, you know? I still wish myself well every morning. I try not to dabble in stuff I don't understand, and I sure as hell don't read any of those creepy stories anymore. "There are no rules," the psychic told me, "only the ones you create." Fuck that noise. Because when you're sitting there, spooking yourself with a good Stephen King or Lovecraftian epic, you inevitably catch movement out of the corner of your eye. Or maybe your cat bumped a table in the other room? See, it isn't that the stuff you imagine isn't real, its just that your disbelief is barely strong enough to keep you safe. Spooky dolls mischievously grinning at you? Check. Ancient secrets revealed in some simple ritual? Check. Something from beyond coming for you, now that the author told you about it? Only what you conjure up.

Credit to: Morebrainsplx