[2nd PLACE WINNER OF THE ANNUAL LUCKY CHARM AWARDS 2021 IN 'MARICHAT']
Marinette curiously looked over her table, at the black hexagonal box sitting right on top of it.
"What the...?"
She gently held it in her hands and cautiously opened the ancien...
This was posted by the official My Hero Academia account on my birthday, 21st September in the year 2019. As a TodoDeku shipper, this is the best gift I have ever gotten.
Not to get your hopes up, but TodoDeku won't be canon (sadly). The ship is celebrated in the fandom to such an extent, that even the official account makes jokes about how Todoroki looks at Midoriya. So, ngl, by posting stuff like this, they're doing us dirty cuz they ultimately gon destroy all our dreams-
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AAHHHHHHHHABSJSBAKDBSKCHAJS-
*
I was recently going over the overall storyline of DWR and I can say that this is gonna be one LONG book, so if you can bear with my troll-ass self and cringy as hell puns and plot, then we'll be stuck together for a long time.
(Hopefully, tho. Let's just hope I don't drop the series or the book-)
Also, I would like to thank me for not killing off main characters and turning this into some kind of angst because that is EXACTLY what I tend to do and you might know this if you've read //Adieu// or //Hurts Like Hell//.
Y'all got lucky this somehow turned into a (kinda) comedy fic and I love the personality I've given to these characters enough to not throw them off a building or down the Eiffel Tower-
*
Chat sat staring silently at the dimly lit Parisian skies, the light jogging of the air mildly drifting the clouds, covering the vast city, brimming with its bustling energy even at this hour of the night. Christmas had passed so quickly that he barely even realized—or maybe that was just his own loneliness. He gazed down upon the city of love, the lights in the buildings and the lamp posts looking like tiny fairy lights decorating a Christmas tree full of life and vehicles. His feet dangled loosely over the edge of the tower, waiting in sweet solitude for his lady. His life, he thought, had been so unlike the Parisian roads, teeming with multitudes of thrill, happiness and energy. He wondered how he'd gotten to the person he was now. How could someone like Adrien Agreste—calm, rational, popular, shy, Adrien Agreste, become Chat Noir—impulsive, ladies' man, flirtatious Chat Noir. He chuckled at the thought of comparing his two identities, the polar opposite of each other.
He wondered whether Lady Iris knew him in his civilian self, whether she knew Adrien Agreste as he knew himself. He wondered how much does he even know about himself, to begin with. He knew he wasn't really Adrien. More like, Adrien wasn't really him, you know? He felt suffocated when he was Adrien, like, if he didn't act in a certain way, eat only certain food, show only certain emotions and speak only with a certain tone, he would be punished. Chat Noir, however, was someone far beyond the reach of these barriers. He was free to do whatever he wanted. He was free to act however he wanted. He was free to run, free to jump from rooftops, free to sing, free to shout and free to fly.
