MarcNath Zine 2021: Beyond the Background

The smell of oil, salt and sugar mixed with the sounds of joy and various music, added to the
excited and charged atmosphere. Nath kept a close watch and gentle hand on Marc as they
purchased their tickets. He knew that the older boy still got a little jumpy in large crowds, it
wasn't as bad as before. Ever since Marc had been dragged welcomed into more activities by
their friends, his anxiety had slowly eased. Still, Nathaniel wanted Marc to enjoy every
second of their date, so he stuck close to him. Ensuring that he knew he wasn't alone by
maintaining a point of contact, and watching for the slightest hint of discomfort. Rose's
excited chatter also helped. She talked about the food, the rides, the games and everything she
could think of, making sure to include the others as well.

Once they were through the entrance, they grabbed a map each and stepped slightly to the
side.

"What do you guys wanna do first?" Marc asked as he surveyed their map.

"Oh! There's so much to see and do! I can't decide." Rose pouted at her girlfriend. Juleka
huffed as she pressed a kiss to Rose's cheek. "We are coming back tomorrow, maybe we can
split the attractions up."

"Yeah. Let's see, we each have ten tickets. Maybe we can use five, break for lunch, and use
the last five after?" Nathaniel suggested. They all agreed, so with a plan of action, they
carefully selected their attractions. There were so many to choose from, but after ten minutes
they'd successfully planned their route for the day. They would ride the Chinese Dragon,

Flying Chairs, and the Zipline and break for lunch. After that, they'd try a few of the nature
attractions.

They stopped for a quick bite at one of the cafes, grabbing drinks and pastries before heading
off.

"Oh, idea!" Rose chirped as they got in line, "best photo-OP wins!"

"You're on!"

Thirty minutes later, the teens stumbled away from the flying chairs on shaky legs, partially
due to the ride, partially due to the fact that none of them could stop laughing. Once they
were far enough away from the crowds, they collapsed onto the nearest benches.

Nathaniel collapsed against the back of the bench in a fit of uncontrollable laughter, as his
boyfriend did his best impression of a hermit crab in his lap.

"N-Nath, Nath st-sto-stop it!" Marc pleaded even as he laughed. He hadn't been the only one
screaming!

"S-sorry, sorry! I ca- I can- can't- ahahaha!" Nathaniel barely got his words out, before he
hunched over with the force of the laughs wracking his body. He shook with them as tears
sprang from his eyes, even as he tried to calm and reassure his boyfriend. It's just that it was

so funny! Yes, everyone else was screaming, but no one else had perfectly replicated the
screaming goat meme!

Marc had been nervously laughing and cheering along with them, up until the ride picked up
momentum and the chairs began swinging further and further out. That's when he started
screaming. The first screaming was so loud that it startled Nathaniel who was next to him,
and eventually the others. Once the ride stopped, and they'd remembered why that scream
sounded familiar, they all but folded over with laughter. Marc included.

"Ok! Ok, pfftt-!" Nathaniel took a deep breath, and tried to calm down. It wasn't easy, but
eventually he got there. When he could finally breathe without his ribs burning, Nathaniel
pulled Marc into a tight hug. He pulled away slightly to press kisses to Marc's forehead and
cheeks. Both boys were vibrantly red when Nath stepped back, but they kept their hands
intertwined.

"What- um, what was that for?" Marc asked as they trailed behind Juleka and Rose.

"Just because." Nath shrugged. "You're gorgeous. I mean, you look great everyday anyway,
but, yeah. And, we're dating so I figured- but if it makes you uncomfortable-" Nath stopped
speaking abruptly when he felt a pair of lips pressed quickly but firmly to his cheek. And just
like that, Nathaniel.exe went offline. Marc giggled as Nath stared dazedly off into the
distance.

"Just for the record," he said shyly, "I didn't mind." He then led his, still reloading boyfriend,
after their double date buddies.

They still had a full day ahead of them, but with his hand securely in Nath's grasp, Marc was
fully prepped and excited for it and everything after.



Let’s Go Together

By Kopycat101 (https://archiveofourown.org/users/kopycat_101)

“Marc! Are you okay?!” Nathaniel yelps when Marc collides into him. The shorter boy
places his hands on Marc’s shoulders, steadying him in place. Concerned sea eyes bordered by
flame hair rove across Marc’s face.

Marc feels himself sweat uncontrollably, and not just from exertion of running away from
an Akuma. Nathaniel—his comic partner, his best friend, his crush—was holding him
protectively, checking to see if he was alright. His mind is going haywire alongside his heartbeat,
pumped full of adrenaline.

“F-Fine,” he finds himself choking out, acutely aware of the weight of Nathaniel’s hands
and the sweat slick on his face. “M-Mireille g-got Akumatized, s-so I had to—had to leave
class.”

The redhead curses softly under his breath, hands sliding down Marc’s shoulders to his
arms. Marc’s skin burns when Nathaniel grips onto his bare arms, skin on skin, electrifying.

“Here, let’s get you to a safe hiding spot,” Nathaniel decides, tugging Marc along in a
half-run. The writer goes without protest, glad the other was taking control, because his head was
spinning too much with panic to let him think straight. Then again, did Marc ever think
straight…?

The two end up tripping up the stairs to the second floor, still connected as they run
together to their sanctuary. They pant as they skid to a stop in front of the art room. Nathaniel
opens the door and pokes his head inside with a quiet assurance that it’s him, and not the Akuma
on the loose.

Most of the rest of Nathaniel’s class is there, ducked behind statues and stray canvases or
crouched under the tables. Right, they had Art this period, that’s why. Nathaniel has them
huddling next to a frowning Alix, Juleka and Rose quick to scoot over and form a little group of
art club members under one of the wooden tables. Squeezing together, they barely fit. As the
tallest, poor Juleka looks the most squished and uncomfortable, but Rose quickly tugs her
girlfriend to half lay on her lap to make up for it.

Marinette is missing, Marc thinks suddenly, realizing the sixth staple member of the club
wasn’t with them. She’s usually missing during Akuma attacks. He always wonders where she
goes during them. Probably goes home, since it’s only a block away, to warn her parents…

They stay like that, hushed and hiding under the tables, until the Akuma alert chimes
from their phones to tell them the attack is over.

“I-I should p-probably go,” Marc whispers, giving a tremulous, awkward smile to
Nathaniel. “M-Mireille’s my friend, I—”

“Yeah, of course. Go for it,” the other nods kindly, the picture of supportive. A freckled
hand slides down Marc’s arm to squeeze his hand, and the writer feels his pulse jump. “I hope
she’s okay. Say hi from us, right?”

“R-right,” the writer nods in agreement, before shuffling out from under the table and
standing. His hand already feels cold, without the artist’s own covering it. “S-See you later…?”

“Later,” Nathaniel agrees, with a wave and an achingly soft little smile that makes Marc’s
breath catch.

Marc waves to his comic partner, then the rest of his friends. He gives a parting nod at
Mr. Carracci—the gray-haired man smiling kindly at him in turn— before darting out of the art
room. He barely swerves around the pole planted not far from the exit, regular panic mixing with
his usual dose of gay panic. His skin tingles, his face warm with a blush.

He tries to push his pining thoughts aside long enough for him to figure out what he can
do to help his classmates. Getting Akumatized is never fun, after all, and it’s not just a
phenomena stuck to Bustier’s Homeroom class…

Marc collapses on his bed with a sigh.

It was a long day today, considering Mireille got Akumatized. It wasn’t the poor girl’s
fault, either. It was never the victim’s fault for being possessed by Hawkmoth. She got a phone
call in the middle of class that her father collapsed at work and was sent to the hospital. The
ensuing shock and fear was potent enough to get Hawkmoth’s attention.

Thankfully, Mireille wasn’t hurt from her rampage as an Akuma. Aurore was quick to
help her go to the hospital afterward, and apparently Mireille’s father was doing fine. He just
collapsed from dehydration, but some rest in the hospital and an IV to give him proper liquids,
and he was as right as rain again.

Marc texts Mireille his well-wishes in the group chat he has with his friends from
Mendeleiev’s Homeroom. She responds positively, thanking him for the support. Marc smiles at
the screen, feeling overwhelmingly happy.

He’s never had so many friends before. He was usually a shy and withdrawn person. A
loner, really. But ever since he’s arrived at Dupont, he’s made friends in his Homeroom class.
And once he joined the art club, he gained even more friends. Through Marinette, he became
friends and comic partners with Nathaniel. Through both their efforts, plus the others in the club,
he was pulled into friendship with Bustier’s Homeroom as well.

Marc was lucky to have so many friends… He was lucky to be working on something so
amazing as a published comic with Nathaniel…

Marc finds himself giggling and hugging his arms around himself at the thought of his
artistic partner. Nathaniel was…amazing. After their terrible first meeting and Nathaniel
apologizing, they quickly became close. Nathaniel was vibrant, both in personality and looks,
and so much more than Marc ever knew from his pining from afar.

And Nathaniel…He cares for Marc. He always makes sure Marc was doing okay and
wasn’t put in overly stressful situations. He always reads and compliments Marc’s work, giving
valuable feedback. He always eats lunch with Marc in the cafeteria the days that Marc has the
courage to eat in public, making sure to take his mind off his anxious thoughts. Even during
Akuma attacks, Nathaniel tends to go out of his way to find Marc and help him. Making sure he
was protected.

Like earlier that day…

Marc launches himself from his bed to pace, hands fluttering and mind in overdrive.
Nathaniel was in the art room, but he went and ran to find Marc. He went to find Marc, and held
Marc’s arms, and tried to calm him down. No, held his shoulders, then slid them down to his
arms. Then tugged Marc by the arm, never letting him go, taking him to safety.

Nathaniel…It was like he was a hero. Marc’s hero.

Marc clenches his fists, squealing and dancing in place a bit. Oh gosh. Nathaniel’s hands
on his arms! His bare arms! He couldn’t enjoy it at the time, since the situation was stressful and
dangerous, but—but Nathaniel held him…!

Marc flops onto his bed as dreamy fantasies about a heroic Nathaniel take over his mind.
Except a dull throb comes from his left wrist that turns into a sharp jab when Marc rolls over and
tries to sit up again.

“Ow!” he hisses, clutching at his wrist. “What the…”

He carefully stretches it. It throbs in pain, acute and very hard to miss. Oh no. Did he
injure himself while fantasizing about Nathaniel, of all things?!

“Aw, beans,” he huffs out a whine, sagging in place. God, he was beyond pathetic.

He needs to tell one of his moms about this to see if they can help him. Even if it’s his
non-dominant hand, he sort of needs his hands to write and carry his things…

Marc gets a number of well-meaning questions from his friends in Homeroom about his
bandaged wrist. “S-sprained it by accident,” Marc sheepishly replies as an answer, trying not to
hunch into himself too much.

“That sucks,” Jean says sympathetically.

“You’re a writer, right? You need your hands for that,” Mireille notes with a concerned
frown.

“But Marc’s right-handed, isn’t he?” Aurore points out. “He should be fine to take notes!
I one hundred percent guarantee it!”

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” he waves off quickly. “N-No need to worry about me.”

“Still, if you need something, we’d be happy to help,” Zoe offers with a shy smile.

Marc gives his thanks, and thinks that’ll be the last of it. He forgets he still has to meet
Nathaniel in the art room after school. Well, up until his feet have already automatically taken
him up the stairs and at the door of Room 33.

Marc blinks, shaking his head to rid his dazed state, before skittering inside to take his
usual spot at their table. He sets his bag down, then carefully opens it with his dominant hand,
trying to use his sprained hand as little as possible.

“Hey, Marc!” he hears a familiar voice say brightly. He looks up to see Nathaniel smiling
at him, before the smile slips off his face. His uncovered eye lands on Marc’s bandaged hand.
“Woah, what’s that?”

“Y-Yeah, I, um. I injured my hand,” Marc explains sheepishly, startling when Nathaniel
sits down and quickly leans in close, blue eyes wide.

“Oh no! What happened?” he asks, brows furrowed and tone concerned, very obviously
worried. “Was it from yesterday’s Akuma? But the cure should’ve healed you from that…”

“It’s n-nothing,” Marc insists quickly, watching as Nathaniel leans in to inspect his hand.

“Did you fall on it or something? You should ice it,” says the other boy evenly, gently
poking at the area under the bandage.

“I-I did. It helped with the swelling,” Marc confirms.

Nathaniel looks up at him, a crooked smile on his lips. “Oh, maybe I can help by kissing
it better, like my Mom does with my injuries.”

Marc instantly finds himself short circuiting at the friendly suggestion. He’s unable to do
or say anything as Nathaniel gently picks up his wrist, feeling himself blush. Nathaniel was
holding his hand…!

And oh God, he was actually leaning down. He’s going to kiss Marc’s wrist. Oh Jesus.
Marc’s probably bright red right now. He’s also internally screaming, eyes blown wide and
watching with panicked anticipation as Nathaniel’s mouth gets closer and closer to his wrist.

The redhead’s lips stop about a centimeter away from Marc’s bandage. “Mwah,” he says
dramatically, before putting Marc’s hand down on the table again, giving a cheeky little smile
with crinkled eyes.

Marc has never been so simultaneously relieved and disappointed in his entire life.
“Hope you feel better,” Nathaniel tells him in a warm tone, nearly as warm as Marc’s
face feels in that very instant.
“Th-thanks,” he squeaks out with a breathy, nervous laugh. He hopes Nathaniel can’t tell
how overly smitten Marc is, especially when he tugs his overgrown bangs out of his face to look
at Marc with two glimmering sea eyes. “S-So, um. H-How about the n-newest issue?”

Marc is going to die and ascend to heaven. His mind is bursting at the seams with
daydreams about Nathaniel. About the other kissing his wrist softly and sweetly. About how
Nathaniel’s lips would feel on his skin. Or on his own lips.

Marc is careful with his injured wrist as he lies down on his bed. However, he doesn’t
hesitate to smother his face into a pillow to squeal.

Oh, he’s got it so bad. He already knew he was a goner, but this takes it to the next level.

He props his chin on his pillow to gently run his pointer finger across his bottom lip, eyes
falling to half-mast and face burning like a furnace, as he daydreams about kissing the other boy.
His comic partner, his best friend, his other half.

Under his breath, Marc sighs and curses Nathaniel for being so charming. It’s not good
for his health.

A few days later, Marc’s able to take off his bandage. His wrist is as good as new, just
needing some time—and a bit of pain cream—for it to heal.

Nathaniel smiles brightly at him when they meet up for lunch. “Oh, hey Marc! Is your
wrist better?”

“Y-Yeah,” Marc nods, sitting down and raising his hand awkwardly to give a little
wiggle. “J-Just got the bandage off.” He probably didn’t need to explain that, since Nathaniel
definitely noticed. Gosh, he’s redundant.

Nathaniel doesn’t seem to mind Marc’s stuttered redundancies, however. “That’s great!
Guess the kiss to make it better worked, huh?” he asks cheerily, giving a wink.

Marc sputters out a laugh, trying to hide how flustered his comic partner makes him. “G-
Guess so.”

“It’s probably for the best,” the other says casually with a shrug, biting into his sandwich.
When he’s swallowed the piece, he adds, “Dealing with a sprained wrist probably isn’t very
handy.”

“Stop,” Marc wheezes out. “That was so bad.”

Nathaniel just smiles smugly back at him. “I dunno, I think I nailed it.”

“Save the puns for when I need to write Chat Noir,” he giggles, playfully punching the
redhead on the shoulder.

“Ow. That hurts, Marc,” the artist says dramatically, eyes wide and gleaming with mirth,
as he clutches his shoulder. “Almost as much as my heart does.”

“I’m sure you’ll heal from it,” Marc teases back with a smile.

“Maybe. Will you help kiss it better?” Nathaniel jokes.

Marc wills the blush to stop filling his cheeks, instead shaking his head. “I didn’t even do
it hard. An injury actually needs to hurt for you to heal from it.”

Nathaniel shoots him a pair of finger guns, giving a wonkily sung, “Then hit me baby one
more time.”

The two fall into easy laughter, Marc’s heart full and warm, his face feeling like he’d
stepped out into the bright sunlight. But it wasn’t sunlight he was under, just Nathaniel’s own
brilliance.

Nathaniel is a brilliant artist. Marc will say it again and again, will even shout it from the
rooftops if he needs to, for Nathaniel to believe it.

Nathaniel seems to be comfortable in his skin sometimes, and other times he’s shy and
self-conscious. He’s similar when it comes to his drawing ability. Sometimes he’s able to take a
compliment. Other times, he’ll completely deflect them, seemingly shocked anyone would like
his art. Will joke about how he’s not particularly good at all, when the self-doubt creeps in.

Marc never lets Nathaniel get very far in self-deprecation, because he gets it. He
understands how it feels, to think your craft isn’t up to scratch, that you’re not good enough. He
knows how easy it is to spiral into negativity.

He also thinks Nathaniel’s a good artist in general, because he’s always trying, and he
hasn’t lost his excitement or passion, and he’s ridiculously proficient at what he does. Marc will
always gush about Nathaniel’s art—that’s both a promise and a threat. He’ll gush until the artist
is pink in the face and beaming, just like how Nathaniel babbles compliments over Marc’s
writing abilities until Marc is a blushing and stuttering mess.

Sometimes, they have little fights over it. Nothing serious, just strange compliment
battles that mirror how Rose and Juleka act when it comes to music for their band. The only
difference is Rose and Juleka are dating, and Marc and Nathaniel are decidedly not.

Not that Marc wouldn’t want to date Nathaniel. He very much would. It’s just one
thousand percent unlikely to happen. Why would Nathaniel—

“Earth to Marc!”

Marc jolts in his seat, sputtering as he focuses back on Nathaniel. The redhead is grinning
at him, something small and crooked and very ridiculously attractive. Sea eyes gleaming, he
drawls, “Did you run out of compliments? I guess that makes me the winner.”

“W-we’re not done yet,” Marc coughs awkwardly, having zoned out in the middle of
Nathaniel dramatically trying to grasp for words over how to describe Marc’s writing. “Your
blending is really smooth. The skin tones look natural, even when the colors aren’t.”

“Wow, you’re really reaching deep here, pointing out my blending techniques,”
Nathaniel says, tone joking but smile pleased. He tugs his overgrown bangs behind his ear and
twirls the marker in his hand.

“Of course. I could never run out of things to say about your art,” Marc says lightly to
hide how deeply sincere the statement is.

“Damn, mister wordsmith. Using your spoken eloquence against me, aren’t you?” the
other shoots back teasingly, gently tapping Marc on the nose with his marker.

Marc giggles in reply, heat creeping back into his cheeks. “Don’t try to distract me,
Nath.”

“Oh? I’m distracting?” Nathaniel shoots back in an exaggerated purr, wiggling his
eyebrows.

Marc claps a hand over his mouth to stifle his ugly snort of laughter. “Sh-shut up, you.
You know what I mean,” he shakes his head, dropping his hand. “You’re distracting me, so you
won’t have to think of another compliment. Does that mean I win?”

The artist leans back, hemming and hawing for a few seconds, before crossing his arms.
“Mm, one final one, I think.”

“Which is…?” the writer presses.

Nathaniel points his marker at him. “Your words are swaggy and your ideas are yolo.”

Marc can’t help it, the laughter that bubbles from his chest and bursts past his lips. He
slaps the table and points at Nathaniel, only semi-accusing as he declares, “See! You ran out of
compliments…!”

“That was a compliment,” the other insists, but he’s laughing all the while. “So, I won.”

“N-No, I definitely won,” Marc says through his mirth. “Just admit it.”
“Agree to disagree,” Nathaniel chirps with a shrug of his shoulders.

Marc lightly slaps his shoulder with the back of a hand, smiling widely all the while.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

That night, ironically enough, Marc has a hard time sleeping.

The discussion during art club replays in his head again and again. It almost seemed
like…like Nathaniel had been flirting with him. But, no, that wasn’t—that wasn’t right, was
it…? Was Marc looking too far into it? Was he letting his daydreams seep into his real
memories?

Making sure he doesn’t mess up his wrist again, he turns on his side and gently rubs his
nose, blushing when he remembers how Nathaniel tapped it cheekily with his marker.

No, Marc was definitely imagining the flirtatious undertone. Nathaniel was just being his
usual, friendly self. Completely platonic. But maybe…

“I’ve got a set of Copics now!” Nathaniel says brightly—proud, excited—plopping down
next to Marc in the art room.

“Oh! It’s those nice art markers you were talking about, right?” the writer asks, setting
aside his journal.

“Mhm! Lemme show you,” the artist says breathlessly, smile stretching his cheeks and
shifting the constellation of his freckles. “I’ve just tried them—ow!” Marc watches as Nathaniel
accidentally slams his fingers against the edge of the table, in his haste to grab his bookbag. The
redhead hisses and shakes his hand, cursing under his breath.

The writer automatically takes the other’s hand to look at it, trying to see how much his
friend was injured. “They’re all red…” he notes in a murmur. And without wholly thinking, he
dips down and gently kisses the tips of Nathaniel’s fingers.

Nathaniel’s hand goes eerily stiff in his. Marc retracts slightly and freezes, lips lingering
a breath away from the other’s fingers. Ice flowing down his spine, he slowly looks up through
his lashes to see the damage he’s done.

Nathaniel is bright red, freckles disappearing under his furious blush, face and ears nearly
blending into his hair. His blue eyes are blown wide in shock, lips parted slightly. Looking
completely and utterly flabbergasted.

Marc snaps upright, dropping the other’s hand, his hand and face scalding. No doubt he’s
matching the artist’s firetruck blush. “I-I—um—ah—s-sorry, I w-wasn’t thinking…!”

Oh God, Nathaniel is going to hate him. He can’t believe he actually did that. Went and
pressed his lips against the other’s skin. Any second, Nathaniel is going to start yelling at him, or
try to laugh off the incident with a ‘no homo’, or—

“Do it again,” the other breathes, instead of doing any of those things.

The two sit and stare at one another, stunned. Nathaniel looks shocked and mortified by
his bold declaration. After a long moment, he squeaks, “S-Sorry. I—I wasn’t thinking…?”

Marc gulps thickly, Adam’s apple tight against his choker. A bit of bravery pushes him to
say, “W-Well, I wouldn’t mind k-kissing you better. If you want.”

Nathaniel just stares back at him with wide eyes and a still bright-red face, goggling. As
if he couldn’t believe Marc said what he did. To be fair to Nathaniel, Marc also couldn’t believe
he said that, so they’re both even in that respect.

“Y’know, I think I’ve seen something like this in a Victorian romance movie…!” he
hears Rose stage-whisper, no doubt to Juleka.

With that declaration, it’s like a spell is broken. The writer is quite suddenly reminded
that they’re still sitting in the middle of Room 33 during art club. They aren’t alone.

A glance around himself confirms this fact. Marinette not-so-subtly has her phone out
and is pointing the camera at them, beaming like the sun, looking likely to vibrate out of her skin
from pure joy. The rest of the students who’ve gathered that day are staring right at him and
Nathaniel with varied levels of fascination and excitement.

Ah, fuck. Goddamn it.

Nathaniel surges to his feet, grabbing Marc by the arm and attempting to drag him up as
well. Marc stumbles onto his feet, flustered and mortified and confused beyond belief. “H-Hey
Mister, you w-wanted some, uh. Some more red paint, right? Me and Marc’ll get it!” Nathaniel
says, overly loudly to the room at large.

The art teacher simply smiles back at them, kind eyes crinkled. The man lightly presses a
fist against his mouth, like he was trying to keep down laughter. “Ahem. Yes, of course, boys.”

Marc doesn’t find himself complaining whatsoever when Nathaniel starts literally
dragging him out of the room, no doubt to take them to the supply closet a door down. He hears
Alix say with absolutely no filter or volume control whatsoever, “Holy shit, they’re gonna start
making out. Not sure if I should cheer or be disgusted, honestly—” the comment cutting off
when the door closes behind them.

Nathaniel keeps leading him down the hall with surprising strength for his size, Marc
trying not to trip over his feet like a klutz all the while. His face is on fire, and his heart is going
to thump right out of his skinny chest, and he’s pretty sure he’s going to literally die.

He notes how Nathaniel fumbles with the supply closet’s doorknob, the way the other
boy’s breaths are shaky, how his fingers spasm against Marc’s arm. Marc barely manages to trip
inside the door without actually falling on his face, Nathaniel elbowing the door closed and
clutching at Marc with both hands. The artist is all but panting like he’s just finished a sprint.

“Um,” Marc finds himself squeaking nervously. He’s not sure what else to do. He’s been
dragged into a supply closet by his best friend slash crush, who blatantly asked Marc to kiss his
hand again like they’re repressed leads in a Victorian romance novel. And Marc had boldly
offered to kiss him in turn. “N-Nath, I…”

Nathaniel detaches his grip from Marc, like Marc’s squeaky inquiry startles him. The
writer leans back against the closet door heavily, no longer having his weight supported, but
manages to keep himself upright.

The other runs a hand messily through his gorgeous sunrise hair, tugging it from his
blushing face. His blue eyes are wide and wild as they stare deeply into Marc’s. Searching.

Marc thinks Nathaniel finds something—maybe the answer he’s looking for—when the
redhead gently places his hands on Marc’s shoulders, fingers smoothing down the bunched fabric
of his hoodie. Marc’s gaze follows pale digits, before he wrenches it back up to lock eyes, green
on blue. Nathaniel holds his gaze steadily as he takes his bottom lip between his teeth, visibly
and obviously biting down, a deep pink indent left behind that his tongue darts over.

“Nathaniel?” Marc finds himself asking quietly, voice coming out low, lower than his
usual anxious tones. He darts his gaze down at his partner’s mouth, then back up to his eyes,
finding himself leaning down slightly like he’s magnetized.

Nathaniel’s eyes go half-lidded, cheeks becoming ruddy. “Kiss it better,” he whispers,
low and breathless, pulling Marc closer by the lapels of his hoodie. And Marc could think of
nothing he would rather do than fulfill the request.

Marc dips down, and Nathaniel tilts his head slightly and leans up, and their mouths
meet. Soft, tentative, sweet and shy. Marc’s eyes slide shut as their lips linger together, warm
and comfortable. There’s no fireworks, but blood is rushing through his ears, and his senses zero
in on every point of contact.

He feels more than hears Nathaniel gives a hum against his lips. A question, soft and
barely there. Marc carefully threads a hand through Nathaniel’s hair—soft, so soft—gripping the
back of the other’s neck, before pressing his lips firmly against Nathaniel’s slightly chapped
ones.

Nathaniel clings to him, fists still gripping his hoodie, as he kisses insistently against
Marc’s mouth. Marc’s heart soars at the other’s enthusiastic reciprocation. Soon enough, they’re
gasping breaths against each other’s lips, wild and hungry, like they’re starving and only the
other’s lips could provide sustenance.

When Marc and Nathaniel stumble out of the supply closet a few minutes later, they’re
trying to frantically flatten their hair back in place. They’re also clutching hands, little breathless
giggles spilling past their kiss-bruised lips, cheeks rosy pink. Eyes meeting and then darting
away, ridiculous in how shy they were being, but much too happy to care.

“D-Do you, um. Want to come to my place to f-finish working?” Marc asks, too
embarrassed to meet the other’s gaze. “I-I can introduce you to my moms.”

“Marc,” Nathaniel starts, tone warm and deeply amused. When Marc looks at him
properly, his blue eyes gleam like sunlight on the ocean’s waves. “I’ve already met your moms.”

“But, um. But not as my boyfriend,” the writer points out softly, with an equally soft
smile. He snorts a laugh at the flustered expression instantly crossing the other’s face. As if they
hadn’t just made out in a closet, and this declaration was wilder than what they’ve just done.

“O-Oh,” the redhead squeaks, before tugging his bangs from his face and giving an
endearingly nervous giggle. “Oh, uh. Yeah, I—I’d like that.”

“Hell yeah!” Alix whoops, spilling out of the door of the art room and into the hallway, a
squealing Rose and Marinette following in her wake, Juleka trailing behind. The skater jumps
and thrusts both fists in the air. “Fucking finally…! I’ve waited a millennia for this, you gay
disasters!”

“Alix,” Nathaniel sputters out, eyes comically wide and face rapidly turning the color of a
tomato.

“Congrats,” Marinette says while giving a little dance in place. “You both did it!”

“We got the gays…!” Rose shrieks, hugging her girlfriend and bodily shaking the
willowy girl.

Marc can’t help it. The situation is just so ridiculous and so distinctly in-character for his
friends, he breaks down into laughter. He laughs and laughs, clutching Nathaniel’s hand and
using the other to cover his face, giggling helplessly.

His boyfriend ends up laughing along with him, burying his face against Marc’s shoulder
to hide. His boyfriend. Nathaniel was his boyfriend. Damn did that sound good.

“Nath, are you okay?” he finds himself saying through his mirth.

“No, actually. Save me from this hell,” Nathaniel groans dramatically, clinging to Marc’s
side so he wouldn’t be bowled over by Alix’s body-slam of a hug. “Fucking damn it, you
gremlin, get off!”

“I had to put up with your pining this entire time, bitch,” Alix grouches without heat, a
shit-eating grin on her face. “Lemme hug you.”

Marc grabs his boyfriend’s arms, tugging him out of the hold of their friends before the
smaller boy can get smothered by the affectionate group-hug they get dragged into. And then
Marc was leading Nathaniel away by the arms, and they’re running down the hall and cackling
like crazed delinquents. Rose yells at their retreat good-naturedly, and Marc calls out a flippant
“Bye guys!” that would usually be too rude for him in normal circumstances, but knows that their
friends won’t take offense.

The pair descend the stairs, and then Nathaniel’s tugging Marc to a stop. Marc tries to
catch his breath, and so does Nathaniel—but that doesn’t stop his boyfriend from getting on his
toes and pressing his lips against Marc’s in a kiss that finishes stealing his breath away.

“My hero,” the artist says against his lips, smiling into the kiss.

“Well, you’ve always been mine,” the writer murmurs the confession, leaning his
forehead against the other’s.

Nathaniel’s smile is sweet as he asks, “Have I?”

“Always.”

Nathaniel huffs out a laugh, their breaths mingling. “We forgot our bags. Alix is gonna
hunt us down any second.”

Marc groans, closing his eyes in dread as he realizes the truth of the statement. “Ah,
fuck.” He opens his eyes when he hears Nathaniel giggle, the sound of mirth puffing against
Marc’s lips before he leans in for a quick peck.

Marc can’t help but stare down at the other, watching the redhead pull back slightly with
that stunningly bright smile of his, the one where he smiles with all his teeth and it reaches his
eyes.

“Don’t worry. We’ll face it,” Nathaniel says brightly, threading their hands together and
squeezing, warm fingertips entwining and Nathaniel’s palms pressing against Marc’s leather-
covered ones. “Together.”

Marc squeezes Nathaniel’s hands back, finding an achingly fond smile fall on his lips.
“Yeah. Together.”



Falling In Place
Peyton St. Jackalope | https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicianofesperance/works

The room was cluttered, frantic with end-of-the-year projects. It was only a few days
before the dreaded dead week and finals were slowly but surely approaching. Piles of stacked up
papers and essays in a multitude of subjects, ranging from history to math to language arts, to
which some had even been carelessly splattered in paint. The frantic energy could felt from
outside its doors. Dates, numbers, quotes of Shakespeare, mutterings of teacher’s names
beckoned from their lips and bounced off the walls. In other words, the art club was in havoc.

Alix had been in the middle of teaching Kagami some of her spray painting techniques.
Kagami had been one of Alix’s best students, one her most astute when it came to the subject.
The girl had been fascinated by art and took great passion in trying to learn what she could from
her friends. There was a tap on Alix’s shoulder that called to her attention.

“Alix, I have to show you this Tik-Tok,” Marc said, biting his lip in anticipation. Secure
in his studies and finished with his errands, Marc had been treating his lunch time quite casually
despite the ruckus and chaos run amok.

Before Alix could even raise a brow, Marc had clung onto her arm, waving his phone in
her face. “I’m Nathaniel Kurtzberg,” the words came out of the device with a familiar voice,
“and this is day two of trying to befriend the raccoon in my attic.” She shot a nasty glare at a
bowl of cat food she recognized in the video. A pink dish bedazzled and covered in rainbow
stickers, it could practically be no one else’s but Rose.

Nathaniel’s words passed through one ear and out the other as the raccoon slipped in
through a vent and began to chow down. When he finished his monologue, both the food and
raccoon were gone.

A pair of footsteps walked up behind them. “I- Is that a raccoon?”
Alix turned around. “Hey there, Lila,” she said before a deep sigh. “Yeah, it is. A stray
cat shows up in the alley behind Nathaniel’s house sometimes, so Rose leaves out cat food for
it.”
In clear ear-range, Zoé whipped her head out of a textbook. “Why don't you chase away
the raccoon then?”
“I agree,” Lila said, placing her hand on her chin. “It’s rather peculiar you’d keep it
around.”
The door opened with a creaking swing, revealing the perpetrator. “Hey guys, what’s
up?”
Alix spun her head and shot the boy in front of her a nasty glare. “It’s because a certain
redhead thinks he can befriend the raccoon.”
“Shut up, Alix!” Nathaniel howled in a concoction of laughter and frustration. “Anyways,
what’re we talking about?”
Alix raised a scorned brow. “Oh, you know, just giving Kagami a lesson before I was
interrupted with your special breed of idiocy.”
Nathaniel digested what she said, slowly nodding along. “Is there another kind of idiocy
you’d be more comfortable with?”
Marc swished away the app, putting his phone into his pocket with a swift tap on it. Some
things were simply more entertaining live.
“Yeah I do.” She snapped the face mask back onto her face, shaking her next spray bottle.
“The kind where my friends are safe.”
He reached over, giving a light touch on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Alix.”

“It- it’s fine.” She walked away, shaking it off. Going right back into her lesson, she
began highlighting something green she had painted earlier with a touch of yellow.

Nathaniel let out a disgruntled sigh, turning to Marc. “Hey dude.”
“Hi,” Marc said, giving him a timid wave. “What’re you working on?” he asked as
Nathaniel began rummaging through the papers in his bag.
Nathaniel could feel himself break out into a cold sweat. “Uh, just some math homework
if I could join you-”
Zoé turned around. “I’m working on the math homework Monsieur Montgomery
assigned if you’d like you to work on it together.”
“Oh, alright.” He turned back to Marc, “See you at the art club meeting after school?”
“Yeah, can’t wait,” he replied with a melancholy smile. He sunk back into his phone, his
face bemused.
Lila scrunched her brow, tilting her head so she could fully see his face. “Is there
something a matter, Marc?”
Looking up at her, he gave a hard swallow. “Lila, I’m going to say this to you as a friend,
but yes.”
“Tell me all about it.” She leaned in closer, giving him her full attention.
He began waving his hands as he counted. “You’ve drank tea with the Queen of England,
became a lifeguard on the beaches of Spain, ran charities in Turkey, and pardoned turkeys in
Maine, and just, well-”
Lila almost began to shake, becoming visibly weary. “Yes?”
Marc lent his hand out to her, their pinkies touching. “You’re one of the most fabulous
people I know.”

She gave a small sigh in relief.
He bit his lip. “So I was wondering if you could offer me a little advice.”
Lila’s eyes widened, revealing more of the olive tint as it came into the light. “Please do
go on.”
“So, last month, me and Nathaniel finished our last comic book together and I fear we’ve
grown further apart since then. Wild, I know. You’d think after spending almost hours everyday
for several years straight it would feel like an accomplishment.”
“Does it not?” Lila quacked.
“It does, it does. I’m very glad we have that series finished and sent to our publisher, but I
want to spend time with him. I’m longing for him.” His eyes darted at Nathaniel, sitting several
desks away and back around at the people near before speaking in hushed tone, “I don’t want to
rush anything, but I think I might even be in love with him.”
She twiddled with her hair. “That’s all well and dandy, I congratulate you on that
anagnorisis-”
“My what?” Marc said flatly.
“Your realization, I apologize. Ever since Zoé got me into the world of theatre and acting,
I’ve just felt so complete in a way I never had before and carelessly whisk myself away in it.”
Her eyes stared into the mid-distance, her dreams and passions playing in front of her eyes as if it
had been on a silver screen. “So where do I take part in the menagerie of all this?”
“I need a stepping stone, just a place to start. As we go along, it feels like I’m figuring
myself out in ways I never have before, but I’m anxious this might all end up crashing and
burning on my head, ruining our friendship”

“And you aren’t asking Marinette? I mean, you are of course no bother to me, by any
means. Please ask me all you want, but I think a lot of people do enjoy her advice.”

Marc grimaced. “Well, I adore Marinette and her wild schemes -don’t get me wrong- but
I’m scared I won’t understand her elaborate plan and mess it up.”

Lila nodded. “Ah, I understand what you mean.” She spun her straw around her iced
coffee before taking a sip. “She absolutely adores a good multi-step plan, and perchance for you,
you would enjoy something more, say, straightforward?”

His shoulders relaxed, not even realizing his muscles had been tensed with anxiety.
“Exactly, thank you.”

Glancing towards the ticking hands of the clock above them, a smirk grew across her
face. “Well, I’d say you already have a decent plan, just in need of some confidence.”

Marc raised his brow. “I already have one?”
“Yes, indeed. You already have the time set up when you see each other next. You’re
going to see each other before the art club meeting starts, the final one of the semester where we
all think it’s just another meeting, but then the advisor surprises us with pizza and soda for the
fourth year in a row.”
They laughed together as Marc took a deep breath in, jubilant in the feeling of victory. “I
can’t believe it was so simple. Ask him to hangout, like we always do, but tell him with an
entirely new meaning. Thank you so much, Lila. This really is going to be the start of something
new. I need to go prepare.”
Lila nodded and plastered an imitation of a smile on her face as she watched the boy beat
it out of the room. It was a simple fact, she knew, she was knees deep in trouble and there was no

telling how to get herself out. She needed a lifeline. ‘Marinette,’ the name popped into her
consciousness.

Lurking in the rose gardens, inconspicuous with her lunch tray, she kept a watchful eye
out for everyone’s favourite pigtailed girl in pink. ‘Ah, Marinette and Adrien.’ Eying the couple
talk with a connection that combat no other, she could have sworn in the faintest of her memories
that Marinette was stammering around him and the next became implanted to his hip seemingly
just over night. It was of the most peculiar of behaviours from them she’s witnessed, but when
butterflies are a menace to the city of Paris, she knew with certainty it wasn’t the strangest thing
she had seen before.

Stepping closer, she stood at what felt to be a reasonable distance. “Marinette, may I have
a moment please?”

“Oh? I think I need to meet with Nathaniel soon, but of course,” Marinette said, raising a
brow. She turned her head back to Adrien as she walked away from him. “We’ll be but a
moment.”

As they went behind a corner, Lila huffed through her nose, almost feeling defeated. “So,
as you know, I’ve worked tremendously with my therapist and I’ve stopped my habit of
compulsive lying for attention-”

Marinette almost jumped, springing onto her with a hug. “That’s wonderful, Lila!”
“Or,” she continued, “quite nearly I should say.”
Clinging onto both her hands, her blue eyes met her olive. “What did you do this time?”
Lila’s lips puckered. “Marc brought up some things I said in the past and he thinks of me
as some sort of saint.”

Marinette nodded, concentrating on the girl in front of her.
“So, I would like a little help on my journey to try and do better, but I don’t know how to
start, and well, you’re one of the best people I know for giving advice like this.”
Spinning like clockwork, Marinette’s mind fit the pieces together as perfectly as two
cogs. “As you know, they say ‘the truth will set you free,’ but it is not as easy as it seems. No
matter how we go about it, people will be angry with you, never trust you again, and perhaps
even turn you into a villain in their minds.”
Lila shook her head in agreement. “Got it, never tell another lie, swear it on my father’s
grave and keep my mouth shut about anything I said in the past. Toodle-oo! Great speaking with
you,” the words ran out of her mouth a mile a minute, as she began walking away.
“Lila!” Marinette’s impatient foot on the ground tapped like a metronome.
“Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes. Stopped in her path out, she faced Marinette once more.
“Tell me your plan, please.”
“Thank you.” She flipped her pigtail with a smile. “You know how we are to meet at the
art club today?”

Before taking his first step into the art room, Marc counted backwards from ten. Like a
soothing mantra, he went slow to calm his steady beating heart, but even then, nothing could
tame the sweat ushering out of the palms of his hands. Reaching ‘one,’ he turned the knob with
the fateful ‘click’ coming after. Many of the desks had been pushed back with two large tables
and a large walking space taking their place.

He walked across the floor, becoming more confident with every step. Voices of his
friends in the back of his mind guided him, cheering him on to press forward. Finally reaching

the boy, he pressed his shoulder. “Nathaniel, it’s so great to catch you alone, I need to speak to
you-” Spinning on his back heel, he had a smug look on his face and a box in hand, “and why are
you wearing a tux?”

Dashing out of the cabinets, Rose, Juleka, Kagami, Marinette, Alix, and Zoé came out
and enamoured the room with food and decor. Bamboozled, he was caught further off-guard
when Nathaniel got down on one knee. “Marc, after all these years I’ve spent with you, there is
no one else in my life I could ever think of spending it with. So, I wanted to give you this ring.”

Marc was frozen, all exempt for his green eyes darting from corner to corner of the room.
Cameras flashing, people smiling, and a confused Lila and Adrien stepping in to witness the
cacophony. As the ring slipped onto his finger, he barely managed to utter the words, “Are- are
you- are you proposing?” He was near choking.

“No, no. Well, maybe?” Nathaniel’s face almost camouflaged into his hair. “This is a
promise ring.”

Glancing at the people across the room, he caught a gleaming smile that confirmed his
suspicions that Marinette’s handiwork truly was written over this stunt. “You know what,” Marc
began, a smile growing across his face, “I came in this room frightened, shaking in my boots that
you were going to reject me. Nathaniel, you’re my most favourite person I know. Everyday I
come to school and my biggest desire is to see your face. You’re playful, patient, and with our
time spent together, I learned just how much I can count on you and rely on you. You said it best.
I want to see your face everyday for the rest of my life, so I’m accepting your ring.”

Nathaniel wrapped his arms around Marc. “Does this make us-”

“Boyfriends?” Marc said, finishing his question. “Definitely.” Hand-in-hand, he leaned
into him. Their lips touched for the first time, their bodies engaging, a spark igniting, desiring for
the moment to last forever.

With the crowd settled down for some time now, Lila began tapping on her plastic cup of
soda with her nails to call attention. “I really don’t wish to take away from this momentous
occasion, but being we have roughly five minutes left of this meeting, I do have an
announcement of some importance.” She swallowed the lump building in her throat. “I have said
many things in the past, and it has caused quite a problem, even if you are unaware of what it
might very well be.”

“Though Lila, you aren’t the problematic sort,” Mylène spoke out, her arms folded.
“If you heard something, er, wonderful or miraculous sputter from my mouth these past
few years, consider it null and void. To tell the honest truth, I’ve never broken a bone in my
body, had any sort of true ailment, spoken with royalty, met a celebrity, or volunteered with a
charity much less led one.”
“So you’re telling us you’ve been a liar all these years? That’s ridiculous! Utterly
ridiculous,” one particular voice rang out from the audience.
“As the years passed by and I worked with my therapist to conquer this issue, I learned
more about myself and what I should do to thrive. That is in no short thanks to the help from Zoé
and Marinette, as well as Marc.”
Zoé was taken aback. “What did I do?”
Lila met her stare with kind eyes. “You gave me something very important; you gave me
an outlet in which I could express myself like never before.”

Marc pointed at himself. “And me?”
“Without you, without talking to you today, I don’t think I would have made such a bold
choice as this. Thank you, Marc.” She looked back out to the crowd, the light in her growing
dim. “I understand if you never want to speak to me again or need to take your space from me.”
Nathaniel began to clap. “We’re here for you,” he spoke, the simple sentence cracking the
sorrow with an arrow of light.
“Yeah!” Marc said, following his boyfriend’s lead. “When you said all those things, we
were just fourteen. We’ve all changed as people since then.”
Chloé rolled her eyes. “Honestly, knowing me, I don’t know if I bothered listening in the
first place with you going on about how great you were.” She was met with arming in her side
from her sister’s elbow. “Ouch.”
“We’re all becoming young adults, Lila. Apologizing and clearing the air of what you’ve
done in the past is such a big step to maturing,” Adrien said next. “I think I can honestly say I’m
proud with how far you’ve come.”
By this point, streams of tears rolled down Lila’s cheeks. “My breath is just taken away
by all of your guys’ kind words. This was not the reaction I was expecting, being met with your
loving and open welcoming arms.” She wiped away at her face with the sleeve of her blazer. “I
feel like I’ve taken enough time here. If any of you have questions, please feel free to shoot them
at me. Excuse me as I’m off to powder my nose.” Walking away from the front of the class, she
downed her drink and walked out the classroom door.
There was a moment of silence before the ruckus had started up again, conversing to one
another about the plans of their life and their future. Marc stared into Nathaniel's eyes, his hand

not leaving his grasp and was comforted in the thought of knowing what he was going to be
doing tonight with the love of his life.

Darkness shrouded the room, only dim lamps marked either side of the pathways where
they strode. Finally reaching their seats, Marc reached for the large bucket between them. In
place of his scoop of warm, buttery, salted popcorn, he was met with a surprise of the firm yet
gentle touch of Nathaniel’s hand, their rings clinking in the process. In the movie theatre, he
caught the glimmer of the light’s reflection in his boyfriend’s eye and it was all that he needed to
guide himself to his tender lips upon his own.

In each other’s embrace at last, the boys lost themselves, too distracted in one another to
pay attention to the trailers or the tilting bucket that was spilling popcorn over their outfits. As
the film began, they pulled away, alarmed by the loud and deep bass of the opening theme.
Looking back, green eyes meeting blue, the whispered words echoed off each other's lips almost
hauntingly in an enchanting unison, “I love you.”

Stairs
By UN {https://archiveofourown.org/users/Username8746489}
Marc sucked a breath through his teeth looking up at the second floor of the school. His next
class was up there. He just needed to walk up. He’s done it before. It shouldn’t be hard!
Marc took a single step on the staircase.
He was falling. There was wind rushing through his hair and the noise was so loud, so loud-
The writer shook his head, returning to reality. A shaky breath left his mouth.
Marc was so pathetic. He couldn’t even get up some stairs.
“U-Um, Marc?”
The writer turned around, seeing Nathaniel standing there, hand clutching his arm nervously.
“I got art class, don't you have social studies? They're close. Wanna walk together?"
Marc gulped, slowly nodding, “Sure.”

His grip on the railing was tight as he slowly climbed up the staircase, Nathaniel chattering
awkwardly next to him. Marc's pretty sure Nathaniel was attempting to get his mind off the
height. That was nice.

Seemed Nathaniel was still trying to make up for the whole journal incident, even if Marc had
reassured him it was a misunderstanding.

It still hurt though.

Marc and Nathaniel continued conversing, the writer being acutely aware of his dry mouth (from
talking to Nathaniel? From walking up the stairs? Both?) the entire time. Nathaniel came to a
stop, surprising him. The redhead simply pointed towards the classroom and Marc realized that
they had reached his class.

Nathaniel turned away to presumably head over to his own class. Marc quickly reached out and
grabbed his arm, spinning him around. "Th...Thanks!"

The artist blinked before smiling brightly, "Of course!"

They said their farewells and headed into their own classrooms.

It took him until the middle of the class to realize the art room was on the other side of the school
and not close at all.

Nathaniel went out of his way to help Marc with his newfound fear.
Marc relaxed in his seat, smiling down at his paper. That artist really was amazing.

---
A month had passed since he had been able to walk up the stairs by himself.
Marc let out a breathy laugh as he stepped off the stairs and onto the second floor.
He had finally done it alone! He was healing!
The writer did a small wiggle in place as a celebration. Nathaniel smiled fondly at him from the
other side of the school.
He's really cute.
Nathaniel blinked.
Oh. He's really cute.

He was unable to focus in class that day (although, when could he ever?) due to his sexuality
crisis.

---

Both boys' anxiety was going haywire over the next week.

Nathaniel kept telling himself that he could never tell Marc about his newfound feelings. Marc
probably still disliked him for the whole tearing his journal up thing.

Without realizing it, Nathaniel started distancing himself slightly from his crush. Marc took this
as a sign that Nathaniel was only helping him because of guilt and not because Nathaniel
genuinely wanted to help him.

The writer sighed as he placed his stuff in his locker. Nathaniel quietly walked up to the writer,
"Um, Marc?"

Marc shrieked, jumping away from the sudden arrival. "Nathaniel! Sorry, didn't notice you."

"Yeah, I get that a lot," Nathaniel laughed, "Hey, I don't think I see you in the cafeteria during
lunch. Do you want to come sit with me? Maybe?"

The writer blinked.

Nathaniel continued spewing words from his mouth, even as he was internally screaming, "I
mean, not just me, but like my friends? Or it could just be me. If you wanted of course. It's all up
to you! We don't even have to sit in the cafeteria! Under the stairs if it makes you more
comfortable? I don't know-"

Marc giggled, "I'd like to eat with you and your friends."

His worries were melting away. Nathaniel really /did/ want to hang out with him.

The artist gave Marc a smile in response, melting at how cute the other looked.

They weren't quite there in figuring out their mutual feelings, but with a little more time, they
would reach that conclusion.

A Normal Day in Haven City:
From Zy_Krymzynn
A brief explanation:
The Haven City AU is a modern fantasy-lite series that takes place in a city known as
Haven City, where immigrants from all neighboring countries arrive, and try to make a
name for themselves. The city is surrounded on all sides by nations that wish to take it
over, and only disputes between the three nations keep it alive.
The miraculouses only provide weapons, powers, and enhanced physical capabilities,
not a full costume.
Map of the area around Haven City, including major cities and roads:

A Normal Day:

A loud noise banged through the building, shaking the ground beneath him and was
followed by a second loud bang, which was also followed by someone shouting through
a megaphone. Nathaniel jerked awake at these noises, opening his eyes to seeing

small bits of concrete fall from the ceiling. It had been a struggle for him to go to sleep,
with the people above him apparently having some sort of fistfight party, and it only
ended when someone from the floor above them pulled out some sort of Artifact and
silenced them. He almost wanted to do the same, but the crow ring was probably too
powerful for this. Marc told him to try to avoid things that would make him more likely to
be identified. He dragged himself out of bed, because no matter how tired he felt, he still
had to go to his work, because if he didn’t, there were thousands of people willing to
take his job, no matter how essential he was to the company. Still, if he gets let go,
there’s always his contacts in Ziantopolis, a much less crowded city. Maybe he can
convince Marc to move out, because honestly he didn’t know if he could live much
longer in the city, especially with how it was going now.
Marc had already left, a quick glance at the scattered papers on their shared desk
showed that he was working on reporting on yet another war between Tol Arsalan and
Lecetian, complete with an angry co-workers rant, some guy named Ytantol who
wanted to spin this to be pro-Arsalanese, the scrawling in something he could only
charitably call Arslanese script. He’s dealt with people who’ve sent emails written like
this, and it’s a pain to read. So yeah, he doesn’t really envy what Marc was doing.
He needed to head to the office right away, because a company in Zyie Jettan wanted
some new logo or something. He already had some preliminary sketches drawn up, the
curse of an overactive imagination, he supposes. Scanning around the rest of the room
to see if there’s anything he needs to take care of. He doesn’t need to worry about
coffee, there’s some at the office close by.

That’s perhaps the one good thing about the city, that almost everything is pretty close
together. He walked out of the door and into the main hallway, sliding the pathkey that
Marc gave him down the door, listening to make sure the door had fully locked itself.
The trademark clink noise of the pathkey signalled that, so he took out the key. Because
of how crowded the streets were, he employed a few anti-pickpocket measures. Inner
pockets in his zipped-up jacket were extremely helpful, because unlike the pants
pockets and the outer pockets people might have, these are incredibly difficult to
access. Sure there’s probably some artifact out there that allows someone to pickpocket
through fabric, but there’s only so much he can do.
Today, in front of the office there was a larger than normal group of people, many of
whom seemed to be carrying strange-looking pikes. They seemed to be milling around,
doing nothing of note. Marc had always said there were strange things in Haven City, so
he just pushed through the crowd to get through the front door. The large crowd didn’t
seem to mind him, and even moved away for him to enter the building. He walked past
the front desk, where the receptionist and security guard looked up, nodded, and then
went back to whatever they were doing. If he had been an intruder, the security system
would go off anyways, so whatever. One rickety elevator ride later, and he slid into his
office and locked the door. This office building was home to quite a few different groups,
including many that are… less than legal. After closing the door, he heard a shuffling
noise. He turned around, ready to use the crow miraculous if he needed to, but it was
Marc sliding his way out of one of the cabinets.
“How did you get in he- how do you even fit in that cabinet? I’ve barely been able to fit a
box in there?”

Marc pointed to a panel that was laying under his desk that he didn’t recognize. “This
panel was making the cabinet smaller, there’s a hidden tunnel network weaving through
the building. It’s not connected to the Network, but for an internal system it’s not too
bad.”
“So you snuck into some empty room? How did you get past the security system?”
“The Haven Report has a room here, so I have access to the building. And how I figured
out this was your room, well, I found out the third floor lunchroom was the one that
everyone used, and found out the offices rented out by Partisan Artistry, and red hair
isn’t that common even in Haven City.”
“So is there a reason why you came through here?” He asked, a bit confused.
“Not really, I finished up with my work and wanted to pop in, is that some sort of war
crime?”
“No, you’re not the Insjedian Council.”
Marc winced slightly. “That’s… a bit more accurate than you might think.”
Oh. That’s… not good. “Anyways…” He quickly changed the topic. “I’ve got to design a
logo for this up-and-coming arms dealing company. I think the gun aesthetic is
overrated, but maybe you can take a second look at it and see if it fits together.” He
turned the laptop monitor over so Marc could look at it easier.
“Yeah, this looks pretty good, but maybe make the third gun a bit smaller, it looks like it’s
not balanced well with everything else.”
He took a second look at it, and yeah, it really didn’t fit with the stylized “Z”, too many
angular lines. Maybe he’ll save that if they reject his more “mainstream” idea, he’ll share
that one.

Marc climbed back into the cabinet, saying something about needing to work on a new
project.

It turned out that the company liked the first logo he made, apparently it’s something
“different” and “unique”. It didn’t matter to him, as long as they approved and he got to
sell the logo, sending another report of his sale to his supervisor.
Before he left, he got one more assignment from his supervisor. A Jarmayan company
wanted to “unofficially” expand into Haven City, and wanted a “sufficiently distinct” logo.
He didn’t have any ideas yet, but maybe he will tomorrow, packing up his things and
leaving.
Halfway back from the apartment building, there was a powerful gust of wind and
people running away screaming. Ah damn, this means there’s another Akuma attack.
He slipped the crow ring out of the hidden pocket and onto his finger, while dipping into
an emptied alleyway to put together a makeshift disguise. It wasn’t pretty, he couldn’t
pull a Shadow Viper and show up with a professional-looking costume every time. But
Ladybug didn’t care, so that was good enough for him.
Turns out this Akuma was another of the stronger ones. It seems like Violet Papillon
was getting stronger, and maybe had recruited an ally, because the silver and white
mecha that the akuma was piloting was definitely not technological, and it
complemented the akuma’s powers.
But the saying about if there was evil, good would rise to fight it, seemed to be true.
There were more heroes here now than ever, some of which he didn’t recognize, and a
hero themed like a goose ended up crushing the mech suit with a powerful axe kick

(That definitely had some other artifact enhancing it), and he ran forward to break the
akumatized object, a whistle of all things.
Just another day in Haven City.





A sincere thank you to all the wonderful people who participated in this zine. You are what keep
this little fandom alive and thriving.

And also a special thank you to Kopycat and Sinnamon_Troll for helping organize this project and
bring it to fruition. This zine could not have made it to where it is without your help.

And to all you readers, we hope to see you again next time.

With love,
Christallized