#a simple suggestion

[frostedpuffs]

HI @rosekasa !!!!! 💗

(have to answer this as a text post bc it's too long for an ask)

i LOVE this question, because it made me think!! i wont rate them in any particular order, and i don't necessarily think these scenes are the best I've ever written, but they're some of my favorites because of how much fun i had writing them.

putting this under a read more because im gonna paste the scenes and this ask might get long. some of this writing is a few years old atp so forgive the awkward wording in some places

Sewing Sentiments - Chapter 7 First Kiss Scene

"You're dear to me, too," Marinette said, longing to draw him in, to kiss him until she couldn't breathe and her lips turned blue. "I'm no good with words, Adrien, but...I do like you. I like you s-so much that I wish I could tell you just how much I like you. How much I…"

I love you.

The thought didn't startle her. Not as much as she thought it would.

In a short time, Adrien had become so dear to her. She adored him like no one else. He was the light of her life, the shining presence that brightened her day. One of her best friends.

Marinette wanted to be his girlfriend more than anything. 

(Now, she only needed to tell him that.

…Or show him.

Her eyes found his lips again, burning with the desire to know how soft they would feel against hers.)

"You're so cute," said Adrien. "Fumbling over your words for me. I'm touched."

"Don't make fun of me," she laughed. "I'm not going to kiss you now."

His eyes grew large. "You were going to kiss me?"

"Maybe," she said, the tip of her tongue poking out from her lips as she turned away. "But you're being mean, so I might have to reconsider."

"No, no, I'll be nice," he said, grabbing her hand. "I will be so nice. So nice, Marinette."

She turned back to look at him. "Promise?"

He wrapped her in his arms, linking his hands over the small of her back. "You have my word."

“Okay,” she said, and before she could psyche herself out of the budding confidence sprouting in her veins, she tilted her head forward and—with a moment’s hesitation—pressed her lips against his.

His lips were just as soft as she’d imagined.

No—softer, like pillowed clouds, fluttering through the breeze as they danced in tandem with the beat of her heart. With one hand trailing up to rest on his shoulder, the other found his neck, weaving her fingers along the soft blond hairs at his nape. As if he were mirroring her actions, she felt him do the same, unsure exactly where to place his hands but enjoying it all the same.

Marinette had to stand on the tips of her toes just to reach his lips; Adrien took it upon himself to lean down, angling his head in a way that left her breathless.

It was a little clumsy—a steady mixture of gentle, chaste pecks and lingering brushes occasionally interrupted by breathy laughs—but it was undeniably addicting. Adrien flooded her senses, filling her nose with his familiar scent. Every breath she took smelled of fresh mint. His hair was silk between her fingers, like delicate wisps of gold.

When she finally pulled away, reluctant despite her desperate need for air, she ran her tongue over her lips, swearing that her mouth tasted just a bit sweeter.

"Wow," breathed Adrien.

Marinette giggled. "Yeah. Wow."

Her muscles tingled, and every inch of her body buzzed aflame. With a sated smile, she drew closer, capturing his mouth again, and again, and again until both of them were subdued to a fit of quiet laughter and whispered praise.

Adrien pressed his forehead against hers and gazed into her eyes, his face warm as the flush of his cheeks traveled across his skin. He looked so adorably content that she wanted nothing more than to dive back in and kiss him senseless, kiss him, kiss him until neither of them could form a single coherent thought, lost in the languid movement of their mouths.

Marinette had been kissed before. She'd been kissed plenty of times, of course. But those kisses, as fun as they had been in the moment, balked compared to the feel of Adrien’s lips roaming over her own, slow and curious and perhaps uncoordinated, but so wholesomely him that she wouldn’t trade the experience for the world.

It had been too long since she had last felt something so freeing.

“You’re amazing,” he breathed, his warm breath fanning her freshly kissed lips. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. And you’re so sweet, too, and so funny, I—I can’t believe you—I can’t believe we…I just can’t believe—I mean, I've been going crazy all week, trying to tell you how much I like you and—and I—"

“Look who’s fumbling over their words now,” she teased, weaving her arms around his neck and pulling him closer—almost close enough to kiss him again.

Adrien shrugged, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. It was such an innocently intimate gesture that it had her melting like putty in his hands. “Yeah, well, it’s hard not to when you’re looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you wanna kiss me all over again.”

“Maybe I do,” she said. Her fingers twitched as she brushed her lips over his, not quite pressing them together but close enough to elicit a gleeful little chuckle from his mouth. “Maybe I want you to stop talking so I can kiss you until I can’t think.”

“Well, that’s no fun.” He smirked. “How will you compliment me if you can’t think?”

“You’re gonna lose your kissing privileges.”

“Somehow, I don’t think you’ll let that happen.”

“Shut up,” she teased, kissing him again.

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Downpour pretty much the whole fic is one of my favorites because it touches on a darker subject/the stress of being a superhero, but this scene specifically i like.

"Can I ask something weird?" Chat Noir inquired, to which Ladybug nodded. "Do you ever think about, like…what would happen if we didn't win a battle? Like if we lost."

Oh. Oh.

Well, she'd never really thought about that before, at least not to a considerable extent. Sure, she often worried there would come a day when Papillon would seize the Miraculous for himself, but she had enough confidence in herself and Chat Noir to know they'd never let his crusty, evil hands near the precious jewelry. That's what they were there for—to stop him from stealing what was rightfully theirs.

(As "rightfully theirs" as two magical artifacts containing animalesque fairies could be, anyway.)

Thinking about it harrowed her, though. The idea of them losing to Papillon was disturbing in its own right, especially since nobody really knew what he would do with the Miraculous once he had them in his clutches. He could be bent on world domination, destroying Paris, or something equally terrible.

(Hell, he could even use them to injure Chat Noir and herself just for being a thorn in his side—but that thought made Ladybug's chest hurt, and she didn't want to dwell on the possibility any longer because…

Well, because thinking about her partner getting hurt was devastating. The concept often kept her up at night. His reckless behavior really got out of hand sometimes.)

Ladybug sat up and released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Her eyes locked with his.

"Sometimes," she finally answered, though it felt unconvincing. "Most of the time, though, I worry about you. You're always jumping in to protect me without caring about what happens. You know how much that scares me, right? I care about you."

Her heart thudded. The thought of losing Chat Noir was too difficult to bear, so difficult that if she kept thinking about it, she knew her eyes would burn with the threat of tears, and crying was the last thing she wanted to do in front of him tonight.

No crying. Not now. It wasn't a good time.

"Oh," was Chat Noir's response. His voice was light and breathy; barely audible above the sounds of wind and rain. "I-I didn't know you…"

Ladybug patted his hand. "It's okay."

"It's not, though," Chat Noir said. His shoulders were hunched together like a child that had just been scolded. "I don't mean to scare you. I just know you're more important to the mission than I am, so—"

"Shut up," Ladybug huffed, surprised by the bite in her tone. "Don't you dare finish that sentence, Chat Noir. I don't want to hear it. You're just as important to Paris as I am, and I wouldn't even be doing this if you weren't by my side. You matter just as much as I do!"

Chat Noir's face softened. He opened his mouth to speak, lips parted in preparation for a word (or two), but then he closed his mouth and pushed himself to a stand, arms wrapped around himself as he walked to the edge of the terrace awning and stared out at the city. "I'm glad you think so," he whispered. "And the people of Paris, too. It's just hard to convince myself sometimes."

"And why's that?" Ladybug asked. She stood and trailed after him, stopping at the awning's edge, where rain splattered the pavement. Her shoulder brushed her partner's. He responded to the touch by stepping closer.

Chat Noir met her gaze, his eyes cloudy and so full of despair that it almost made her want to wrap him up in a warm blanket and carry him home to her bed so she could snuggle the frown off his face.

(Almost.)

"It's too personal to say much about," he said. "But you're the only one who can purify akumas. Do you remember that one time you couldn't transform quickly enough to get to where the villain was, and I was just running around the city like crazy with an akuma in my hands? I accidentally said the F-word in front of a kid! You should have seen the glare his mother gave me. It still gives me chills."

Ladybug swallowed the laugh that threatened to bubble up from her chest. "I remember. I'm still so sorry about that, kitty."

"It's okay," he told her, but the humor that had momentarily flashed in his gaze had already faded. "But it still worries me. Because what happens if you're hurt or stuck somewhere and I can't purify the akuma or fix the damage it caused? You know what happens when they get free. They multiply. And then the city would be in terrible danger. So, yes, you are the main concern when fighting akumas, because if you get injured and can't do your job, then we're screwed." He kicked a stay pebble across the floor; it bounced, clattering across the rain-soaked terrace. "That's why I'm always diving in to protect you. Because even if I get hurt, we can still win. You can still win. And that's all that matters."

Feeling her heart clench at his words, Ladybug touched her partner's shoulder. "I...wh...you. Okay, hold on. Sometimes I don't need saving, Chat Noir. You're reckless. You dive in before you even give me a chance to defend myself."

"That's not true—"

"Yes, it is!" she snapped. He flinched, and remorse instantly bled down her shoulders. She corrected her tone before she spoke again. "I'm sorry. Sorry, it's just…it hurts me when you sacrifice yourself. I can't stand seeing you throw yourself into battle like you mean nothing! I care about you, and I—"

"But I am nothing!" he shouted, his voice cracked with hollow despair. "Why does it matter so much to you when you've obviously beaten akumas alone? I want to be here to protect you so you can continue to do that just in case something happens, and I can't be by your side anymore!"

Ladybug's brow furrowed. Her hands clenched at her sides, trembling fiercely, and her chest squeezed with each breath she took in, quicker and quicker in succession until she was practically panting from frustration and sadness and—and some other emotion she didn't want to think about right that second.

"Why does it matter to me?" she asked incredulously, a hint of venom in her tone. "It matters because you're important to me, Chat Noir! I don't get why you can't see that. And, yeah, sometimes I have to fight akumas alone, but I don't like it! It's not fun. It's hard, and it sucks, and every minute I'm out there by myself, I hate it because all I think about the entire time is how much I want you by my side. How much I miss you!" She jabbed a finger into his chest. "I always want you by my side, even if the battle is easy. You make it better. You aren't nothing. You matter to me. You make being Ladybug more bearable. I enjoy having you in my life! You're my best friend, damn it, and I don't get why you can't see how much I love you!"

Chat Noir's jaw went slack, then snapped shut. His pupils blew wide, growing from thin, black slits to black spheres that, if Ladybug's eyes weren't fooling her, sparkled with tears. He reached toward her, his clawed fingers hesitating momentarily before pulling back. Then his arm lowered to his side.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked shakily. His eyes never wavered from hers.

Ladybug swallowed thickly, feeling slightly out of breath from her outburst.

What did she mean…? Did she even have an answer to his question?

She said nothing. The weight of Chat Noir's raw emotion resonated heavily in her chest.

Chat Noir licked his lips, voice faint and cracked as he asked, "Did you mean anything by that?"

"Yes," she answered, finally relaxing. She glanced at the floor. "I-I think I did. I'm just not sure I really know how I meant it, though…"

"Th-that's okay," her partner breathed, reaching forward to gently—ever so gently—tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "It just, um. Feels nice to hear you say it. Even if you don’t have it figured out yet."

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A Simple Suggestion - Chapter 21 Lake/Rope Swing scene

“Look,” [Adrien] said, pointing to the top of a large oak that craned over the lake's edge. It was jutting out from a small overhang, the water's surface about a half-meter drop from the rocky face of the ledge. “There’s a rope swing.”

Marinette’s expression fell flat as her eyes landed on the weathered old rope dangling from one of the oak’s branches. “Oh, no.”

“I’m doing it,” Adrien said, letting go of her hand and walking down to the sandy shore. “You can’t stop me!”

“Adrien,” she laughed. She nearly tripped over a stray root as she followed him off the path, silently mourning the loss of his touch. “You’re gonna walk back to the cabin soaking wet?”

He paused, plucking at his black overshirt and eyeing it warily. “You’re right. My dad would kill me if I ruined this shirt.”

“Come back,” she said. She didn’t want to admit how badly she missed holding his hand. 

Adrien turned his head to look back at her. With a smirk, he began to undress, slipping off both his shirts. His T-shirt caught on his head momentarily, ruffling his hair as he finally pulled it free. 

“Adrien!” She squawked as he began shucking off his pants. Her heart beat wildly, and her eyes told her to look away, but she couldn't tear her gaze away from his near-naked form. “What are you doing?!”

“Oh, come on,” he said. “Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed, Buginette. You’ve seen me in my boxers before.”

She sputtered, her cheeks a fiery red. “B-but that was before—”

“Before you knew Chat Noir’s identity?”

“Well, yeah…”

“Newsflash, Ladybug: it’s been Adrien Agreste’s underwear you’ve been seeing the whole time.”

Marinette’s face felt so hot that she felt like she would melt into a puddle of blushing goo. She glanced away for just a moment, but her attention was torn back to the boy in front of her as he tugged on the rope to test its stability. She did not—would not—look at his butt.

She wouldn’t do it. No matter how cute she knew it looked in those black Gabriel-brand boxer shorts, she would not look at Adrien’s butt!

...

She looked at his butt.

Yeah, she thought, grinning. That’s a good view.

“You think it’s safe?” Adrien called toward her.

Crossing her arms, Marinette shook her head. “If you get hurt and I have to explain to the Ladyblog why Chat Noir is out of commission, I’ll kill you.”

He stuck his tongue out in retaliation. Grabbing the rope and taking a few steps back, Adrien braced himself, pausing for a moment before he dashed off the ledge and flung himself into the lake, the once-still surface rippling from his dive. His collision with the water caused a few small waves to rush to the shore. As a few water droplets splashed onto Marinette’s face, she rolled her eyes, wiping the wetness from her cheeks.

She waited for her partner to surface, watching with her hands on her hips, ultimately unimpressed. 

And she waited.

And waited.

…He should’ve come up for air by now.

“Adrien?” she called, stepping toward the water. He didn’t answer. “Adrien!”

Damn it, Marinette thought, kicking off her shoes and preparing to leap into the lake after him. If he got hurt—

Adrien’s head breached the dark water, gasping for air. He wore a stupid grin as he swam toward her, his hair sticking to his forehead and wet droplets beading down his face. “Look,” he said, holding his hand in the air. In his palm was a smooth gray stone. “I found a cool rock.”

Marinette stomped her bare foot on the sand. “You idiot,” she hissed. “I thought you got hurt! I was about to jump in after you.”

Smirking, Adrien rested his arms on the small rock ledge he’d jumped off, gazing up at her with nothing but pure adoration in his eyes. It made her sick.

(Not really. She’d never get tired of those eyes.)

“Aw, Marinette,” he cooed, placing his head in his palm. “Do you care about me or something?”

“Yes!” she shouted. 

“Gross,” he laughed.

She turned away from him, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re gross.”

“Not as gross as you being in love with me.”

Marinette sucked in a breath through her teeth, whipping around to face him. “I am not."

Pushing his wet bangs away from his forehead, Adrien snickered. “I thought you didn’t like liars, Marinette.”

“That’s it,” she huffed, a wave of confidence surging through her as she began to pull her dress over her head. Once free from the confines of her clothing, she folded it neatly and placed it on a rock away from the sand, marching her way over to the ledge. “I’m coming in there and drowning you myself.”

She didn’t miss the way Adrien’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head as she undressed. Truthfully, she felt a little embarrassed to be in her lacy pink undergarments in front of her partner, but she held eye contact as she grasped the rope hanging from the tree. Adrien gaped up at her, his pupils blown wide. He at least had the intelligence to swim away from the rock ledge to give her enough space to leap. 

“This better not break,” she grumbled. 

“It’s okay,” Adrien said, sounding slightly out of breath. She wasn’t sure if his cheeks were red from the cool temperature of the water or from the fact that she was half-naked in his presence. “If you fall, I’ll catch you.”

“And drown us both? I don’t think so.”

Adrien’s grin was all teeth. “You have so little faith in me?”

Marinette scowled down at him, hating how badly she wanted to kiss that stupid smirk off his face. Taking a few steps back, she braced herself for a second, mentally counting to three before she sprinted off the ledge. She swung in the air, and as she let go and collided with the water, Marinette was reminded of being at the mercy of her yo-yo, zipping over rooftops and flying over the city with her partner by her side.

Breaking for air, she gasped and shrieked, her body trembling from just how cold it was. 

“Adrien!” she cried. “You didn’t tell me it would be freezing!”

He held up his hands in a placating manner. “I didn’t think you were going to come in!”

Despite her shivers, Marinette’s shook with laughter. She hugged her arms around her body, rubbing her hands up and down her skin to try to recuperate the loss of her body heat. Adrien joined her in her laughter, and together, they filled the air with childish giggles, splashing each other.

They spent the better of the morning milling about in the lake. Marinette couldn’t count the times they’d both jumped from the rope swing, and by the time the sun reached its highest peak in the sky, Adrien had made himself a nice collection of rocks and shells he’d procured from the sandy bottom of the lake. 

It felt so lovely just to be with him that Marinette couldn’t stop smiling. Her heart felt light. For the first time in nearly two weeks, she was indescribably happy. 

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Perfectly Platonic (Unless...) Chapter 19 the wedding pact scene

“Adrien?” [Marinette] inquired, setting her empty glass aside. “Do you want to get married someday?”

He choked on his drink. Sputtering, he asked, “T-to you?”

Marinette’s hand clenched around the tablecloth. “I meant in general.”

“O-oh.” He took a breath to steady himself. “Yeah, of course I do. I really want to. Someday.”

She watched the bride and groom as they twirled around the dance floor. “I wonder if I’ll ever get the chance.”

“What do you mean?”

Sighing, she frowned. “You know why.”

It took him a moment to process the question. Once it settled in his brain, his expression softened with mutual understanding. “Oh. That.”

Her mouth tasted bitter, and not just from the wine. “Who would want to marry me when I'm never around? When can I never tell anyone why I leave so often? It wouldn’t be fair. Marriage is about trust and honesty. How would that be possible, being with someone who doesn’t know? Who could never know for their safety?”

Adrien smiled sadly. He was quiet for a long moment, drumming his fingers on the table. Then, setting his empty glass on the coaster, he stood from his chair and offered her his hand. “Want to dance?”

Surprised but not at all unwilling, Marinette nodded. She grabbed his hand, allowing him to pull her to a stand.

“Marriage is a tricky subject,” said Adrien, leading her to the dance floor. A soft song played, trickling through the air in a beautiful melody of piano keys and violin strings. Placing one hand on her waist, he used the other to lead her around the floor in a slow waltz. “I understand where you’re coming from. It’s scary to think about.”

Glancing down at their feet so she wouldn’t step on his toes, Marinette laughed softly. “I don’t know if I would call it scary. More like...intimidating.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because that’s a commitment,” she said. “And it wouldn’t be fair to whoever I marry—if anyone at all—if I’m not around often. If I can’t tell them the truth about who I am, then what’s the point?”

Adrien hummed in thought. “That makes sense.”

Her voice lowered to a whisper. “So I guess that, so long as I’m Ladybug…” She blushed as Adrien pulled her closer. “I can’t hope to get married, can I?”

A frown creased Adrien’s brow. “That’s not true.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Yes, it is. It wouldn’t be fair to whoever I dated if I told lies constantly.”

“I guess so,” said Adrien, twirling her.

“And what about children?” she continued. “I wouldn’t be able to tell my kids who I am. And I don’t know if I would want to bring children into a world where Akumas attack on a near-daily basis, anyway. It isn’t safe. I’d rather spare them from unnecessary trauma.”

Adrien’s frown deepened. “But you want kids, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. I love children.”

“Well, if you could have kids, how many would you want?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Three.”

“Three is a good number.”

“What about you?” she asked, curiosity piqued. “How many would you have? If you could.”

His smile was soft and inviting, as warm as the summer sun and one thousand times brighter. “Three.”

Marinette swallowed. 

Three.

He’d said three.

Suddenly dizzy, she braced herself with both hands on his shoulders, overwhelmed by just how desperately she wanted that future with him. “B-but how can I hope to achieve that when safety is uncertain? When I already have so many responsibilities as Ladybug and Guardian? Keeping those secrets from my spouse or family wouldn't be fair. It's just…” Her heart sank as the thought weighed heavily on her mind. “It's too dangerous. I can’t be with anyone while I’m Ladybug.”

Anyone but you, anyway, she mused.

Adrien was the only one who understood.

(She only wanted him. Why couldn’t he see that?)

Noting her change in demeanor, Adrien pulled her closer, continuing to lead her in a slow dance. “Well, lucky for you, I have a solution.” 

“Oh?” She grinned. “And what solution is that?”

He winked, smirking wide enough to show off his perfect white teeth. Lightly poking her nose with one hand, he squeezed her fingers with his other. “You need to marry someone who understands you. Someone who won’t become suspicious of your mysterious habit of disappearing. Someone who always has your back and trusts you unconditionally. So, my solution is—” 

She gasped as he dipped her low, bracing her with his hand slotted on the small of her back. 

“—Just marry me," he finished.

Fuck.

Marinette’s breath caught in her throat. Eyes widening, she froze, absolutely stunned.

He’s got to be joking, she thought, her heart beating so hard she swore it would pop out of her chest. He loves flirty jokes. That kind of joke is right up his alley.

He doesn’t want to marry me.

…Does he?

She choked out a strangled noise halfway between a laugh and a whimper. Her mouth flopped open and closed as she fought to find her voice. Eventually, she gasped, “Are you…proposing to me?”

His green eyes sparkled with mirth. “Nah. I don’t have a ring with me. And it’s not like you’d say yes, even if I did.”

Don’t be so sure, she thought, feeling light-headed as he pulled her back up to her feet. Disappointment curled in her gut like a cold, hard stone.

Instead, she offered an awkward laugh in response. “I...um. You know, I…”

What could she say? “Yes, I would” or “I’d marry you right now if you asked me”?

Ridiculous.

“...Never mind,” she said, heart sinking.

Adrien cocked his head to the side, offering a smile as he settled his hand back on her waist. “Listen. We’ve known each other a long time, right?”

“Right,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“And we’re great friends,” he continued. “So, how about this: if we’re both single by age thirty, let’s get married. Just for the hell of it.”

Her heart stuttered in her chest.

“J-just for the hell of it?” she asked, hopeful. “N-not for any other reason?”

“Or for the tax benefits, I guess,” he joked.

Marinette snorted, amused despite her chagrin. “Y-yeah. The tax benefits. Sure. But I want kids earlier than thirty.”

“Fine,” he chuckled. “I can be your sperm donor.”

Startled, she burst into laughter. “You’re ruining the vibes, Adrien!”

“Nah.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I think they’re only getting better. Wouldn’t you agree?”

As they moved around the dance floor, bodies pressed close together, a fond smile stretched across her face. “Why even be a donor, then? We can have kids as friends.”

Adrien’s eyes widened. After a moment, he laughed, the sound breathy and light. “Okay, so we’ll get married—as friends—and then have three children.”

“As friends,” she added.

He nearly doubled over from the force of his laughter. “What’s next? Adopting a hamster?”

“Woah, slow down,” she joked, linking her arms around his neck. “I think that teeters too far outside the friend zone.”

“So getting married and having babies is fine, but adopting a hamster crosses the line?”

“Adopting a hamster is a big event, Adrien. You have to go to the pet store and pick one out together. That’s like a whole thing.”

“I’m sorry,” he laughed. “Forgive me for being confused, but how is that a bigger event than, I dunno…giving birth?”

"We don't get to choose what our kids look like. But we might argue over the color of a hamster."

"Good point," he laughed. "But I'm sure our hypothetical kids—and hamster—would be gorgeous."

"You don't know that," she said. "We could get an ugly hamster."

"Well, at least our kids won't be ugly. We've both got great genes."

"Yeah," she breathed, eyeing him appreciatively. "That's true."

He grinned, pulling her closer. His breath was warm on her face as he spoke softly. "I hope they have your eyes."

Feeling hot, Marinette swallowed. "N-no," she whispered. Subconsciously, she leaned in, seeking the heat of his breath with her lips. "I hope they have yours."

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and finally probably one of my favorite scenes i have ever written in my LIFE

Perfectly Platonic (Unless...) Chapter 20 the drunken kiss

Her eyelashes fluttered as she met his gaze. “It’s been so long since the last time I was kissed that I don’t even remember what it feels like.”

“Oh,” he said. His heart danced wildly in his chest. Well, that just wasn’t fair. Ladybug shouldn’t go kissless. Of all people, Marinette deserved a nice kiss. “I’ll—I’ll kiss you. If you want me to. So you can—can remember.”

“Yeah?” Her eyes glowed like starlight as she sat up, looking up at him with such an intense fire in her gaze that he became lightheaded from her attention alone. “You would?”

He nodded furiously. Frantically. “Absolutely.”

“O-okay,” she said.

He felt as if he couldn’t breathe. “You…you want me to?”

Ladybug nodded. Her cheeks were flushed, dusting her freckles in a pleasant shade of pink. Wisps of dark hair framed her face as she inched closer, her lips mere millimeters away from his. “Y-yeah. Just so I can remember.”

“If you’re sure,” he said.

“Yeah.” She nodded. “Doesn’t have to mean anything, just…just to feel.”

Chat Noir swallowed hard. He wasn’t even sure if his voice was working anymore, but somehow, through the cloudiness in his head and the frantic racing of his heart, he breathed a faint, “Okay."

There was no backing out now. Taking a breath to calm his nerves, he leaned in.

It was over before he’d even processed what it felt like. Just a quick peck—nothing more than the chaste press of lips on lips, every sensation dulled by the buzz of alcohol in his brain. 

…Huh.

It was strange. He had always figured a kiss with Ladybug would feel like sparks, fireworks, or a burning blaze, but…

But he’d barely felt a thing at all.

His stomach felt sour with disappointment. Though he tried not to let it show on his face, he knew Ladybug had picked up on it.

“What?” she asked as her expression fell. “Not good?”

Chat Noir shook his head. “It’s not that.”

“Then...what is it?"

Despite himself, a small smile cracked its way through his frown. “It was too quick. Didn’t really feel it.”

“Oh.” She scooted closer. Gently cupping his cheeks in her gloved hands, she tilted her head. “Here, then.”

Soft.

That was the first word that slipped into his mind as she kissed him. Soft, warm, sweet, and wonderful were next, embracing his entire being and wrapping him in a thick cloud of sensation. She was so soft, so—so amazing, beautiful, and her lips felt so good—

The relief that flooded his veins felt like a breath of fresh air. He’d wanted to kiss her for years, and now he finally was, and oh—

—he could taste the bitterness of the wine as their breaths mingled, feel the warmth of it as it puffed on his face, could smell the fruity aroma of the Merlot—

And then her lips were gone, replaced by the chill of the empty night air.

When he finally blinked open his eyes, his head spun from joy. 

Ladybug stared up at him through her lashes, cheeks red and eyes sparkling like firelight. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she smiled, her nose scrunching adorably as she giggled.

It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard in his life.

“Thanks,” she said. “That was nice.”

Chat Noir felt as if he was floating. “Y-yeah. Nice.”

Nice.

It had been more than nice, that was for sure.

She glanced at his lips. Then, tortuously, she licked her own.

He whimpered, his heart lurching with pure want. They’d only meant to share one kiss, to remember what kissing felt like. But now, as he stared at her lips—which were as pink as a peony, so soft and delectably kissable—he felt as if she was a drug, and he was undeniably addicted. 

(And the longer he sat there without the bliss of feeling his mouth on hers, the more the symptoms of withdrawal set in, needy as it sent a never-ending mantra to his brain of want-need-want-please-more-please.)

His hands twitched at his sides. It would be so easy to kiss her again…and it would feel so amazing, too…if only he could…

He wasn’t sure who leaned in first.

When their lips pressed together, it wasn’t the same hesitant kiss they’d shared before, which had been slow and tinged with curiosity. It was charged with something more desperate—something he couldn’t explain but didn’t care enough to. All that mattered at the moment was the feeling of her lips on his, soft as they glided along his in a fervent motion, and the warmth of her wine-scented breath as it blew into his mouth, like kindling to the ever-growing fire that blazed in his heart. Even as their noses bumped and teeth lightly clashed, he wanted more.

When her lips parted, his stomach tingled with excitement. His hands cupped her cheeks to draw her closer, to drink in her scent and—as her tongue slipped into his mouth—her taste.

(She tasted like heaven. Like pure stardust, she flooded his senses, overwhelming his every thought with nothing but her.

Of Ladybug. Of Marinette. His Lady. 

His love.)

Chat Noir sighed and tilted his head to the side to achieve a better angle, caressing her cheek with his thumb. Her skin was still damp from her tears, and as her hand reached up to rest over his, she gave him an affectionate squeeze. He could almost cry from the simple intimacy of it—as simple as making out with his best friend could be, anyway.

Her mouth was hot around his tongue, sizzling his senses with a pleasant burn. As their chests pressed together, he wondered if she could feel the frantic thundering of his heart. She was so warm, so soft, so—so Marinette.

He was kissing Marinette.

When her fingers fisted in his hair, he moaned.

“Chaton,” she whispered against his lips. “My kitty…”

He barely heard her. Drunk from the affection (and alcohol) swimming through his head, he barely managed a hum in response before his lips connected with her chin, following an invisible path that journeyed from her mouth to her cheek and then her jaw.

“Chat Noir,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Mm, what…”

Her sharp inhalation cut off her words as he dragged his lips down her neck and placed an open-mouthed kiss on her pulse.

(What were they doing? This wasn't the plan. They were only supposed to kiss once.

Then again, if she didn’t want this…she could push him away, couldn’t she?

He knew he should stop. Of course, he knew. But it was so hard, and she smelled so good, and she felt so nice—)

“Adrien,” she moaned.

Fuck.

He snapped his head up at the sound of his name. It had been all the encouragement he’d needed to keep kissing her skin, but maybe they should stop before—

Ladybug’s lips crashed back on his before he could finish that thought, their shared breath hot as it smoldered between them. Her tongue was back in his mouth in an instant. Head spinning, Chat Noir groaned quietly as she gently took his lower lip between her teeth, tugging in a way that drove him insane, and oh, wow, had she crawled in his lap? Oh wow okay yes she had crawled in his lap and now she was suddenly kissing his neck and woah, were those her teeth? Oh okay wow yes she had just used her teeth and it felt so good and, okay, he was making some embarrassing noises because he’d had no idea that he had a thing for that until now and holy fuck—

He’d never imagined how amazing it would feel to have someone bite him.

“My Lady,” he gasped. “M-Marin—”

She shifted her hips, and he groaned.

Fuck.

Fuck, she was in his lap a-and moving her hips in a torturous motion, and ohh god her hands were pulling down the zipper to his suit, uh oh oh no—

He wanted this. He wanted it so badly. He wanted to let her explore him more than anything, but…

...No.

Chat Noir pressed his hands on her shoulders, edging her backward until her lips released his skin with a wet pop.

“My Lady,” he panted, their chests heaving in tandem as they fought to catch their breath, “h-hold on. Hold on. Woah.”

Ladybug tucked a loose wisp of her hair behind her ear. She looked so gorgeous with her cheeks flushed a tantalizing red and her lips kiss-swollen and so perfect that it was challenging to resist diving back in for another taste of her, but—

(But they were getting carried away. And they were both a little too drunk to be sure that this was a situation either of them wouldn’t regret in the morning.

…Not him, of course.

Never him.)

“We need to stop,” he said.

Ladybug swallowed. Licking her lips, she nodded and crawled off of his lap. Though brief, he noted the pang of disappointment in her eyes. “Y-yeah. Sorry.”

(Wow, she was panting. Had he done that to her?

…Did he have the same effect on her that she had on him?)

She fidgeted uncomfortably. Looking down at the street below, she made a noise halfway between a laugh and a sob. “Um, I don’t know why I…I mean…I…wow.”

“Yeah,” laughed Chat Noir. “Wow.”

“I…I don’t know what happened back there,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

His head spun from the absurdity of the apology (and probably the wine, as well.) “You’re sorry? Why?”

She buried her head in her hands. “I-I lost control.”

“Am I that irresistible?” he purred, bumping her shoulder with his.

Hiding her face against the side of his arm, she grumbled, “B-be quiet.”

She hadn’t denied it. Feeling giddy with affection, Chat Noir chuckled, wrapping his arm around her and squeezing her against his side. 

---

I KNOW THIS WAS SUPER LONG SORRY. BUT I HAD SO MUCH FUN DIGGING THROUGH MY FICS TO ANSWER THIS ASK!!! THANK YOU!! 💗💗💗

[red-red-yarrow]

My wrist hurts

[crabsnpersimmons]

"Do your best today! I'll be waiting here when you get home, starlight~💕"

had two busy days of work outside of my cave and the only thing that kept me going was the sight of my housewife/househusband Eclipse waiting for me at home

that is, the sketch of him waiting for me to finish drawing him 😂

starring @starriegalaxy's Eclipse from her Fear Factor AU/House Husband AU

[ganondoodle]

one of the requests/suggestions i got :3 (demise + cats)

still struggeling with drawing anything (depression yippie) but trying my best anyway

[asthedeathoflight]

I think the thing that feels really revolutionary about Gideon Nav's lesbianism is that she's not a lesbian in opposition to anything. She doesn't like women instead of men. It's just that her entire sexual world is female.

A lot of time having a gay character seems to necessitate a scene in which they confirm emphatically that they do not like the opposite gender. Gideon doesn't need to do that. She just talks about women all the time (and, lesbian character who is openly and unashamedly horny and actively pursuing women in general outside of once-in-a-lifetime romance, that's its own post entirely) and the absence of any mention of men makes it obvious that she's not interested in them.

And, as a queer person constantly having to explain WHY I don't want this or that, it's really refreshing to see a queer character who is so totally focused on what they DO want and not what they don't.

[peceraynadamas]

Come on, Vaggie. If you’re quick about it we can go out and eat limbel after.

[the-party-city]

its really funny seeing endos and endo supporters saying "youre hurting trauma survivors by being anti endo!"

yeah? im hurting trauma survivors? you mean, the people that claim to not have trauma?

be ASTRONOMICALLY real with yourself

[mrtequilasunset]

Okay I've had this project open for like. Way too long now and I've hit a brick wall with it but i still would like to share what I have so here's this idea I've been mulling around about the disco skills being court jesters. I only have the psyche skills done but hopefully soon I'll have the inspiration for the others and also fully color these. Enjoy

[i-like-forcefem]

One of my favourite memories of training is when something came up and I needed to leave a doll alone for a little while

Of course my little Tsundere first rejoiced in her break from her duties of looking cute for me, the cameras I’ve got set up confirmed that much

But it was first quite surprising that she didn’t make any escape attempts, though the amount of blackmail I’ve gathered does make that the logical choice

But then what took me really of guard was what she did when fully alone

She always wore the most masculine clothes we have for the first while, some booty-shorts and a T-shirt that says princess, she decided to wear inside out

But still each morning she spent just a little bit more time inside the closet, I see how she keeps glancing at our adorable dresses, she keeps feeling out all the wonderfully soft skirts, how she glances at the drawer where I keep the little bows I always put up in her hair,

always just a little longer each day

And then a couple days pass, and she no longer wears her adorable shirts inside out, instead showing off the beautiful prints to the mirror she keeps staring in

And a couple more days pass and she’s ran out of clean shorts again, and she’s tired and lazy, and it’s not like anyone’s watching so she might as well grab a skirt instead of washing them all again

And the next day she realises just how much better her outfit looks if she’d just put in a single hairclip

And the next she realises that while she’s at it why not do a little make-up?

And by the time I’m back she looks cuter then I’ve ever made her, and the look on her face when I say that… I wouldn’t trade it on the world, she got pinker then her dress, one I can firmly remember her saying “she’d rather die then wear”

[jboh-art]

[chaoticlad]

They’re literally the worst things ever.

Original picture BUT I LOVE THIS SO MUCH ITS SO FUNNY 😭😭😭😭😭😭

[shanklin]

For the very sad realitivity falls au

I was thinking it really needed some comfort.

Which got me thinking about Soos, if Soos became like a son figure to Stan, maybe the opposite in realitivity falls?

Maybe Soos becomes like a father figure to Stan (dear lord that poor boy needs it especially with the whole Filbrick situation)

Stan: *sighs* Look I better go, I don’t want to burden you anymore than I already have.

Soos: Nah it’s fine dawg, c’mon, sit down with me. This cool new show is about to come on!

Stan: But, aren’t I selfish for wanting to spend time with you? Wouldn’t you rather do it with Ford?

Soos: Dude, you are being too hard on yourself. I want to spend time with you dawg, because you’re an awesome dude! *ruffles Stan’s hair*

Stan: *trying to hold back tears* I uh-have dust in my eyes.

Soos: There, there dude, let it all out. *hugging Stan*

Stan: *sobbing* I just want to be loved, but I—

Soos: I’ll be here for you

Selfish Shellfish AU - Masterpost

Rejoice, dear Anon! You’re getting out of prison early on good behavior!

Soos becoming a father like figure for Stan broke me. Haven’t stopped thinking about this since. I love it dearly.

This ask also made me realise a couple of things

I have no idea what Soos’ role usually is in Relativity Falls AUs

I don’t care. Don’t tell me. Soos is Soos. Maybe a tiny bit older than in canon. 30ish?

I imagine Stan to be like 15 in this for extra angst. He still hasn’t gotten a proper growth spurt yet and definitely has no drivers licence.

…I forgot what number four was. I was too preoccupied in outlining a fic in my head that I’m totally never gonna write. Don't look at the word count

Okay so, comfort? Sure! Dad!Soos! Perfect! Tonal shift with slight crack components incoming? More likely than you’d think!

Where did we leave off?

Filbricks dead, yaay!

Mabel, Dipper and Ford are currently having multiple breakdowns over how much they failed Stan.

And Stan? Stan’s on the run. He’s a murderer now and certain the police are after him and actually let’s say he’s right about that one. It doesn’t help that Filbrick had friends in the police force or at the very least used to pay them off on the regular.

One moment Stan stands above his fathers unmoving body looking at his hands - he really needs to wash his hands.

The next he's a state over in the middle of nowhere in a stolen car that's running out of gas with no money, no food and only the clothes on his back.

He’d curse himself for not taking supplies with him but what the point? He deserves this. He’s a murderer. A selfish, rotten, evil person. He should turn back and surrender. Get himself locked up and pay for his crimes.

But that would mean he’d have to face Ford and the rest of his family. They would come and judge him. See how bad he really is. He can’t do that. He can’t face them. He’d rather die than face their disgust and disappointment.

And yet somehow. Something in him still wants to live. The selfish part of him that refuses to shut up and let him be. That makes him do awful things and hurt others.

Everyone was right about him. So there is no point anymore in trying to be better. He might as well embrace it. It’s easier than thinking about Pa staring at him with dea-no no no no. That doesn't matter. Nothing matters except his own survival.

His car runs out of gas near the woods. It’s dark and cold and the wind howls in the distance. Stan's fight or flight instinct goes into overdrive. He desperately looks for a weapon to defend himself with. After a couple of minutes of frantic searching he finds a small pocket knife in the glove compartment. This will have to do.

There are headlights in the distance coming ever so slowly closer and Stan grasps the knife tighter.

Go away go away go away, Stan silently begs but the car comes to a halt behind him and a large man steps out.

Stan gulps and tightens his resolve. He's a criminal. A- a- murderer. He’s already done the worst thing imaginable to survive. And he will continue to survive. 

Even if that means he has to hurt and kill others. Stan steels himself and decides to do the unforgivable once more. He will kill this man, take his car and money and only live for himself.

A knock on the window. Stan lowers it, ready to strike. One swift stab in the neck and it will alll be over.

“Sup little dood! Need some help there?”

Stan falls over, he drops the knife and stumbles back shaking.

The man chuckles and picks up the knife. This is it. This is how Stan will die. Killed in the middle of nowhere by a gopher like serial killer. No one will never know what happened to him

“Here you go dude. You lost your knife. You need to be careful with these things. Could’ve accidentally stabbed me or something.”

The man holds out the knife and Stan snatches it up and moves back further, holding it protectively over his chest.

“What- what do you want?”

Stan's voice is hoarse. He hasn't used it in days, he realises. And the last time he did, he was shouting before before-

“Saw your car parked here in the middle of these creepy woods and thought you might need some help.”

"Well, I don't. So f-fuck off.” 

Stan flinches. It never ends well when he gives adults attitude. Shit. Shit, why did he do that?

Luckily the man doesn’t react to his mistake. Maybe he didn’t hear him?

“Aw dude. I’d feel bad leaving you all alone. Is your dad here somewhere?”

The man looks around for Stan's…dad. Stan's throat feels like sandpaper.

“No. He’s gone.” Stan whispers and the man's eyes soften.

“I’m sorry du-”

“Gone to get some gas!” Stan exclaims all of a sudden, shoving all his terror, anxiety and guilt into a dark corner in his mind. He needs to put on an act if he wants to survive.

“He’ll be back soon so you can just. Go.”

“Ah no. That’s alright. I’ll wait with you until your dad comes back. It’ll be great. I’ve got some snacks in my car and we can play I spy. See, I’ll start. I spy something green!”

“A tree?” 

"Woah, Dude! You’re like super good at this.”

Is this guy for real? He’s clearly mocking Stan, only. Not. He seems way too sincere. Stan hates it.

“Well this was fun, but you should really go. Stranger Danger and all that”

The man's eyes widen in shock.

“Totally forgot! Sorry, Dude! I’m Soos.”

He holds out his hand. Stan eyes it suspiciously.

“You’re not going to leave are you?”

“Not until you’re safe. Can’t leave a kid like you out here all alone. Your dad, like, shouldn’t have done that. That’s not cool dude.”

Stan might be stupid, but he's not an idiot. The guy is most definitely gonna turn out to be a creep and/or serial killer. The moment Stan lets his guard down around him he’s done for. He should insist the guy leave or better jump out of the car and run away. As starved and tired as Stan is he’d be no match for a big dude like Soos, even if he uses his small pocket knife, but he could probably outrun him in the woods.

There is no way for Stan to come out of this alive.

Either he will piss the guy off by insisting he leave and get murdered or he runs into the woods, gets lost and dies of exposure far away from civilization. 

His only other option is to wait with the guy and play his stupid games until he realises no one will come for Stan and he’s free to do as much axe murdering as he pleases.

No matter what he does. He’ll end up dead, abused and broken with no one to grieve for him. He’s sick and tired of feeling like this. Helpless. No, he needs to stay strong. Strong and selfish.

Stan takes the outstretched hand and shakes it firmly. Just like Pa taught him to do. The firmer your handshake is, the easier it will be to make a deal in your favor.

“Steve Pinington and actually I don’t think my dad will come back anytime soon. He probably got lost and is waiting for me in the next town over. Would it be okay if I hitch a ride with you?”

It was surprisingly easy to convince the man of his lie. Apparently if you get lost you should always stay exactly where you are until you’re picked up. Stan is pretty sure it doesn’t work like that for adults but he won't look a gift horse in the mouth.

New plan.

Make the creep think Stan is just a helpless, innocent and naive kid

Wait until he falls asleep and slit his throat

Take all his money and leave the country. Or something. Stans will figure it out later. Maybe he could  steal a boat…

The drive is nice. There’s food, water and warmth. It makes his hands tingle. He didn’t notice how cold he was before.

Stan gets forced into playing silly road games and when his answers become slower and he feels his eyes droop Soos turns down the music and puts a blanket around him.

Stan tells himself he's just keeping up the act and will only pretend to fall asleep but is out cold a moment later anyway.

***

He wakes up with a scream and swings fist at the nearest object which happened to be the face of his kind of kidnapper.

A crunch. Blood. A body lying at his feet. His hands. He needs to wash his hands.

“Sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I’m sorry-” Stan can’t breathe. There’s blood on his hands. Where is he? He’s sorry.

“Hey, hey, it’s fine dude. I Shouldn’t have woken you like that. It’s just a nosebleed, see?” 

Soos smiles and holds his hands up as the blood drips down his face, over his teeth and onto his shirt. It’s not a pretty sight. Stan looks away.

“You know, one time I tried to see how many hot dogs I could eat at once but I choked and pieces got stuck in my nose. I bled out sausage chunks for like a week straight.”

A weak chuckle escapes Stan's throat. “Eww that’s disgusting.”

Soos clumsily wipes off the blood from his face and holds out some fresh tissues for Stan. He takes them gratefully. It’ll have to do until they find a proper bathroom to clean up.

“I’m really sorry.”

“It’s alright little dude.” Soos replies and ruffles his hair. Stan tenses up but lets it happen. He feels the phantom touch long after it’s gone and it takes all of Stan's self control not to trace it his head. He flashes in embarrassment. It felt…safe.

Oh, the guy really knows what he’s doing. Stan will do the world a favour by killing him.

***

To the surprise of no one Stan’s “lost dad” is nowhere to be found. They spend the whole day exploring every inch of the town and asking people if they’ve seen Stan's dad. Stan makes a game out of it, trying to see just how outrageous he can make the descriptions until people think he’s lying.

Soos never once questions his stories.

Eventually they have to give up their search and get ice cream instead. It's the best day Stan had in years. He feels sick.

***

Soos gets them a motel room and opts to sleep on the floor when it becomes clear that only single bed rooms were available. 

His kidnapper is really bad at this, Stan ponders as he watches the man snore. At this rate he’s going to develop Stockholm syndrome and fall in love with him or something. Stan grimaces in disgust. Yep. That’ll do it. He needs to kill him now and proof once and for all that he can survive on his own.

He sneaks out of bed and quietly leans over the man, knife in hand. There’s drool on Soos' face and his nose looks swollen. Stan did that. He hurt him. And Soos didn’t care. He laughed it off with a silly story and distracted Stan until he could breathe again. 

Soos grunts and Stan flinches. The knife falls out of his hands and onto the carpet, nearly missing Soos’ neck. For a moment Stan's heart stops and when it beats again it's racing. With shaking hands Stan pushes the knife into the farthest corner of the room and curls up next to Soos.

He failed.

***

The next morning he wakes up in bed all wrapped in a warm blanket.

Soos greets him but Stan isn’t listening. 

It's all over. He can’t do it. It makes no sense. Why can’t he do to a stranger what he did to his own father, intentionally or not. He can't remember. It doesn’t matter. It changes nothing.

Stan is stuck. He knows, logically, he could just make up an excuse and escape, but he doesn’t want to. Soos feels - it's not safe. No one is safe. But he feels harmless and he's a good distraction. As long as Stan focuses on Soos won’t have to think about anything else.

“Hey, Soos.”

"Yeah?"

“I don’t think we’ll find my father here. He probably left town already. So, eh, can I just come with you?” Stan fiddles with his hands. They always look wrong. Always a finger short. “It’s to look for my dad of course. I’ll be gone before you know it. I promise I won’t be a bother and I can help out with things! I’m good at following orders and I-”

“Dude! Dude! Say no more. I’ve so gotchu. We’re totally the same. I’m also looking for my dad.”

“What?”

At Stan's befuddled expression Soos picks up the briefcase he's been carrying around and sits now next to Stan.

“You see, my dad left as well when I was little. Littler than you even and I’ve always wanted to meet him, but he never came. All I got were some postcards.”

Soos opens the briefcase and pulls out a card. Stan ignores it in favour of staring at the rest of the content in the case. Holy shit. That's a lot of money. Soos continues undeterred.

“Well, it’s always been my dream to play catch with my dad and I almost gave up on it but then I got this!”

Soos hands Stan a plain looking card.

“Son, 

I’m in a bit of a pickle and I could really use some help. Meet me at this address and bring 50 grand with you. You’re the best, champ.

Love, Dad.”

Stan stares at the card. Then back to Soos. Then back at the card. 

“You know this is a scam, right?” Stan waves the card in front of Soos who, stands up, grabs it and puts it back in without meeting Stan’s eyes.

“Perhaps,” Soos mutters. “But I still gotta try. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I mean I had my Abulita and she was great, but it wasn’t the same. And now she’s in heaven and I’ve got no one else left besides him. Maybe he needs the money for a fresh start and will come back home with me!”

Soos sniffles and rubs his eyes. “So yeah. Maybe it’s not the smartest thing to do, but I have to try.”

Stan hugs his knees and is quiet for a long moment.

“In my experience, money is the only thing that will make a dad like you, so it might work out after all.”

Stan peeks at Soos but it looks like his attempt at comforting the man failed. He looks even more heartbroken than before. 

***

Despite Stan's failure Soos agrees to take Stan with him and even suggests their dads might be at the same place. Who knows. They could be part of a secret run away dad club and play a very long and drawn out game of hide and seek.

Stan manages to muster up a smile at the suggestion and helps Soos pack their things. Not that they have much to begin with. Most of Soos things are still in the car and Stan suddenly becomes acutely aware that he still only has the clothes on his back with him. He’ll need to find a way to steal some while Soos isn't looking.

They’re about to leave when Soos spots something in the corner of the room and moves to pick it up. It’s the knife.

“Here you go. We almost forgot it. Be careful not to lose it. You never know when it might come in handy!”

“Thanks…”

Stan almost tosses the knife out right then and there, but instead he puts it back into his pocket. Soos is right. He should stay vigilant.

***

The next couple of days pass by like a dream. Most of the time in the car is spent playing silly word games and arguing about music. Apparently Stan has the taste of an old man. Which is ridiculous. He just prefers the classics, which are classics for a reason! They won’t be forgotten in two weeks like Soos top 20 hits.

[When was the last time Stan listened to music just because he can? How come he’s feeling so strongly about it? Music should be just a way to attract customers and nothing else. Certainly not fun. STOP HUMMING BOY]

At some point the car breaks down and Soos has Stan help him with the repairs. He makes a show of opening the hood and explaining what he’s doing. 

It’s awkward and the nervous energy Soos gives off as he keeps checking if Stan is still listening puts him on edge.

He briefly wonders if Soos is trying to place a bomb inside, but then he holds the tools out to Stan and asks him to give it a go.

Confused about the whole thing Stan does as instructed and finds himself grinning as the engine roars back to life.

“Well done!” Soos cheers and holds his palm out into the air. “Up top!”

Stan blicks and lightly taps the hand in a high six, blushing at the praise.

Soos throws an arm around Stan and guides him back into the car.

Maybe this isn’t a dream. Maybe the last three years were just a bad nightmare and he’s actually been travelling with Soos and having the time of his life, while Ford is off studying weird stuff with Grunkle Dipper.

So Stan pretends he’s just on a fun extended road trip with his friend Soos. It’s great! They eat all the junk food they can get their hands on, sing loudly to bad songs, stay up and sleep as long as they want to and visit every bad tourist trap they come across.

Those are Stan's favourites! The attractions are clearly fake and nonsensical but also the best things Stans ever seen!

Some are just a normal object but big while others try a bit harder to keep your attention with fake curiosities and stories.

There even was one Tax Education Center and Fun Park where you learned everything about the history of taxes and how to file them correctly. Or how to avoid them, if you’re like Stan and know how to read between the lines. 

Eventually, Stan managed to piss off another kid hellbent on becoming the most esteemed IRS agent the nation has ever seen. 

The fist fight that ensued will be retold for generations to come! 

Or at least got them both a lifelong ban from the museum. Stan forgot how much fun fighting was when the opponent is not double your size and responsible for your basic needs.

He leaves the kid with a short “See ya!” and starts running as the kid shouts after him in rage.

“I won’t let you get away with this, Steve Pinington! Mark my words! THIS ISN’T OVER!”

Stan is full on belly laughing when he meets up with Soos.

“Made a new friend?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Stan grins through his split lip. That felt amazing.

***

“Here Soos look!” Stan exclaimes as he shows off his fake abominations that he made out of junk from a nearby trash can.

This tourist trap thing is easy!

He gives Soos the grand tour around the little stand he built on the car and makes up fantastical and true stories of wonder and mystery about the items and tops it all off with the little broken toaster he found. He gave the toaster some cardboard eyes and legs that move with the help of hidden strings and voilà!

The Footbot 9000!

It even talks! Stan’s bad attempt at ventriloquism earns him some snorts and a wonderous “Woah, mommy mommy it speaks!” from the little toddler at the front of the crowd.

Wait. When did that happen? Where did all the people come from?

Stan looks around in alarm and finds Soos farther in the back watching him with glistening eyes. Is Soos crying?

Stan needs to get out of here but there's no good opening and then clapping starts courtesy of Soos.

With no escape in sight Stan takes a bow and thanks his audience.

“How much for the Footbot?” The mother of the toddler asks.

“30 Bucks.”

“10”

“20”

“Deal.”

One firm handshake later and Stan is the proud new owner of a crumpled 20 dollar bill with more to come as more suckers have already shown interest in some of the other junk he put out.

In the back there are people whispering and pointing at Stan. He better hurry up and get out of here before he gets them kicked out of town for selling broken toasters and literal trash.

***

“You know I think I’ll open my own tourist trap in the future” Stan says and takes another bite of his burger. “That was fun.”

“You were amazing! I was totally entranced by your wondrous tales of mystery. You’re like a genius at this, dude!”

A genius? Him? Stan’s not a genius.

Then agaaain. Ford is supposed to be a genius and he wouldn’t be able to put on a show like this.

A giggle escapes him and he kicks his legs under the table.

He can’t wait to tell Sixer and see his dumbfounded expression. Stan the genius. HA! That'll show him for staying home and missing out on the road trip of a lifetime!

***

Stan hands over the money he’s earned as soon as they arrive at the motel. Stan did so well today. He’s still giddy about it.

He found himself a plan for the future, made money AND got praised. The day couldn’t have gone better.

It’s almost a shame he has to go to sleep. But alas. Them's the rules. With a quiet hum under his breath Stan starts to get ready but is stopped by Soos, who is still holding the money.

“What’s up?”

“You don’t need to give me this.” Soos looks pained. 

“I don’t understand. What else am I supposed to do with it? The room has already been paid…”

“No, little dude. You can keep it for yourself. Your company is payment enough.”

Stan shakes his head. This isn’t right. Soos is taking care of things so Soos gets to keep all the money Stan makes. It’s only fair.

“No! You keep it. I don’t want it” 

“It’s fine dude here” Soos takes Stan’s hand and pries it open trying to return the bills. They fumble around and Soos won’t let go forcing it back into Stan’s hands. Stan can’t have the money! It isn’t right. But Soos is stronger than him and refuses to let it go.

“It’s yours. I don’t want it!” Stan repeats, runs to the bathroom and turns on the shower to cancel the noise from the outside.”

Stan needs to pay Soos back for taking care of him. He already wasted so much money on Stan. On food and clothes and sightseeing. Oh. Oh no. Was the money not enough? That's why he didn’t want it, right? It was basically an insult. Here I give you two drops of water back so forgive me for tuning the ocean into a desert and wasting it all on me.

There’s a knock on the bathroom door. Stan flinches with every bang. 

BANG

BANG

BANG

“Just come in!” Stan shouts to make the noise stop.

The shower turns off and in the absence of water pouring down on him he becomes acutely aware of the wet clothes sticking to his body, dragging him down.

Soos wraps him in a towel.

“I’m sorry dude for pushing. I’ll keep the money for now and we’ll talk about it later, okay?”

Stan nods and hopes later never comes. 

Soos gets him a change of clothes, helps him dry up and guides him to bed. Stan lets it all happen. He’s too tired to think and following orders is easier. More familiar. 

Stan falls asleep to a comforting hand stroking his hair.

***

Life is great! Stan decides as he jumps out of bed the next morning with renewed vigor. Yesterday evening was just a bad dream and he’s ready for a bright new day.

Who knew food, sleep and good company was all you needed to be happy?

Soos throws him an odd look before leaving to get them some breakfast.

Stan shrugs it off and turns on the TV. Soos is a weird guy so weird looks aren’t out of the ordinary.

He flips through the channels not looking for something particular. It’s been a while since he last had time to sit down and watch something.

He’s about to give up and do something else when the picture on the news is stopping him dead in his tracks.

It's him. It's Stan. 

15 year old Stanley Pines wanted for questioning in relation to the murder case of Filbrick Pines. The authorities ask the public to be vigilant as he is suspected to be armed and dangerous.

There's even a reward out for tips leading to his whereabouts.

The world around him shatters.

His little game of make belief turns into shards cutting into him and leaving nothing but sharp and cold reality behind.

Just what the hell has Stan been doing?

A fun road trip? Making plans for the future? Is he actually insane?

He fucking killed his dad. Let him bleed to death on the kitchen floor as he just watched in silence.

Exactly like he planned to do to Soos.

There is no future for Stanley Pines. Or Steve Pinington. Or any other name he’s going to come up with in order to trick people into liking him for a short while.

The moment Soos finds out what Stan has done it will all be over. Soos will be just like the rest of his family and see Stan for what he really is. A rotten and selfish child. A murderer. Someone not deserving of the love and care Soos showed him.

Maybe he can trick him into believing it’s some other child on the news. Soos is pretty naive sometimes. He could make it work!

Stan shakes his head. 

No. Stan is done pretending.. Eventually someone.will recognize him and then Soos will be in trouble as well for harbouring a criminal.

Steps in the hallway. No time to think. Stan needs to escape. Now!

He puts on his shoes, grabs the jacket and Soos’ briefcase and sprints out of the door.

If the money goes to waste on a good for nothing criminal anyway it might as well go to Stan instead. Really he's doing Soos a favour.

Someone runs after him but Stan is faster.

“Dude, wait! It’s alright, don’t go. Stan, STANLEY WAIT!

Stan is already out of town before he realises that Soos called him by his real name.

To be continued

This was supposed to be just a quick summary or a couple of bullet points about how Stan and Soos could become family in this AU.

And it was also supposed to be a bit more unserious and ha ha, so what if Stan tried to constantly kill Soos and couldn’t get rid of him. But it turned out quite different and not as bullet pointy as I set out to do.

I’m still a little bit in denial about that. But Stan is in denial for most of this as well. So it fits.

I wanted to completely finish it before posting but that’s gonna take too long and I've got no time. So for now have a sad ending for the sad relativity falls AU.

Don’t worry though. It will have a very sweet happy end. With lots of comfort. Maybe.

But for now let's all imagine Stan once again all alone and on the run :D

[highlandkall]

THE ARTBOOK IS OUT!! :D

[hawkeyeslaughter]

fake mash plots — “ potato , potato “

hawkeye and trapper have their first real spat when an ailment with a post - op case befuddles them and they disagree on the cause of it , putting sidney to work during his visit as he tries to resolve the stiff tension between them . klinger picks at some of father mulchay’s beliefs when he interrupts one of his sermons with a question he had not yet considered before . in response , mulcahy questions the rest of the 4077th about their beliefs to try and find an answer .

[the-chaos-crew]

brain rot brain rot mmmmm brain rot

got these sillies stuck in my head they're so gay

yes in the last picture they're watching MLP, and yes I got the idea because MLP music started on spotify while I was scrolling through prismo x scarab stuff