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l-ryuzakitwenty-four · 3 years ago

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All of Us Are Dead Fanfiction “Your Heart Got Teeth” Chapter 1: Wrong Answer

Hello everyone! I love this K-drama so much and I just had to write a fic for it! So, here's my first work for the series!

Chapter 1/4 if you want to check it out on Ao3! I also have it on Wattpad here!

If not, then enjoy Chapter 1 right here!

1 ---> 2 ---> 3 ---> 4

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So, I have a theory:

Gwi-nam, Eun-ji, and Nam-ra were bitten and changed into half zombies, or hambies, a name given to them by Dae-su. Of course, the show never says as to why those three change into hambies and nobody else does. (Unless it does and I somehow missed it. Hit me up if I did.) Now, as the fandom it's our sworn duty to come up with some bullshit reason as to why this happened.

This is where my theory comes into play:

When Gwi-nam, Eun-ji, and Nam-ra were bitten they were terrified, obviously. But I don't think they were terrified of the same thing as all the other regular zombies were afraid of: Death. Of course I do still believe in that moment a primal part of them is afraid of death. However, I believe these three were able to overcome that fear, as they feared something else more. Because of this they wouldn't succumb and accept death. For example:

Gwi-nam: The video of him killing the principal getting out. He would stop it (kill Cheong-san) instead of succumbing to death.

Eun-ji: The video of her stripping getting out. She would stop it (destroy the phones) instead of succumbing to death.

Nam-ra: Leaving the friends that she had just begun to make. She would rather hoard those friendships than succumb to death (making her different than Gyeong-su).

And if Cheong-san is still alive (which he totally is, change my mind): In the beginning he was accepting his death. But, the fear of Gwi-nam killing him (in his mind, making his sacrifice pointless) and escaping to kill his friends was greater than his primal fear of death, so Cheong-san fought Gwi-nam to the end.

To me, these motives seem pretty self-centered (not necessarily in a bad way for all of them).

While we don't necessarily know the feeling of most of the other zombies when they are turned, we do know some of them, and I don't believe they craved anything for themselves in their final moments. For example:

Mrs. Park: Feared Na-yeon wouldn't survive. So, she accepted her death to protect Na-yeon.

Gyeong-su: Feared he would hurt his friends. So, he accepted his death to protect them.

Nam So-ju: Feared On-jo and her friends wouldn't survive. So, he accepted his death to protect them.

Cheong-san's mom: Wanted to know if Cheong-san was alright. She fought in the beginning, but gave up in the end (the opposite of Cheong-san).

Oh Joon-yeong: Was bit and feared his friends wouldn't make it out of the gym, so he sacrificed himself, accepting his death until the end.

Jang Woo-jin: Feared his sister would die, so he sacrificed himself, accepting his death until the end.

I-sak: She was just afraid to die, period.

Kim Ji-min: She was afriad to die too, so she just gave up and succumbed to death quickly.

So the basis is this: Those three students (maybe four) became hambies as to become a hambie, one must want to stomp out a fear; a fear so prevalent that they won't let death stop them from destroying it. Their want to destroy their fear was not for the sake of others, but for the sake of themselves, and they wouldn't let death stop them.

Now, what does this have to do with the story, you may ask? Well my Lovelies, continue to find out!

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When Su-hyeok had woken up that morning, surrounded by his family friends, he had a moment of peace. The morning sun was warm on his face, his body relaxed with the small snores of his friends, a light breeze brought fresh air not clogged with the stench of the zombified dead -

Oh right

Zombies.

Their school had been overrun by zombies. It was actually ground zero of the zombie apocalypse.

In that small moment in time Su-hyeok had let out a small hysterical laugh, but he soon swallowed it down when he noticed Cheong-san startle awake across from him. Soon enough, everyone else had followed them out of sweet oblivion.

Once again, after many an argument, the plan to go to the teacher's office came together and Cheong-san, in all his self - sacrificing glory, volunteered to go. Of course, Su-hyeok didn't believe Cheong-san should go alone. "Why are you following me?" "Who else do you have?" So naturally whether in a feat of bravery or foolishness or something more, he followed.

Su-hyeok, while glad that he followed the boy earlier, couldn't help but dig deep crescents into his palms now as he and the others made their way up stairwell after stairwell, choked apology locked behind his lips as he had't had the time to give it before they were off running again. The lightheartedness, the joking about feelings and girls and the tightening of his chest and what it all could mean -

None of it mattered, as he had almost lost Cheong-san.

Cheong-san, to the girl he had tried to protect just the day before. Cheong-san, to nameless classmates waiting to take a bite out of nearby flesh. Cheong-san, to the boy's own self - sacrificial tendencies.

Why was it always Cheong-san? Couldn't Su-hyeok ever catch a break when it came to the other boy?

Clearly, the universe hated Su-hyeok, as the sight of Gwi-nam swinging his bloodied knife wildly kicked the chance of a normal escape (or as normal as it could be with zombies at your every turn) out the window.

The two teens scuffled for a bit, a kick costing Gwi-nam his knife and a couple well aimed punches adding a few more bruises to Su-hyeok's collection. Suddenly, Gwi-nam seemed to get a second wind, grabbing Su-hyeok and bodily throwing him down a couple stairs. Su-hyeok hit the back wall, a solid groan being punched out of his lungs.

Gwi-nam grinned as Su-hyeok struggled to his feet, throwing out a kick that the taller boy barely dodged. Su-hyeok and Gwi-nam went at it again before Gwi-nam managed to knock Su-hyeok down, a kick to the back of Gwi-nam's knee sending both teens to the slippery floor.

Su-hyeok huffed as he finally managed to gain the upper hand, lunging to wrap Gwi-nam up in a chokehold. Clothes audibly straining, he tightened his grip until he heard a sharp crack. However, Gwi-nam seems unfazed as suddenly he threw himself forward, pulling Su-hyeok over his shoulder and hard to the floor. Before Su-hyeok could recover Gwi-nam sent one, two, three sharps kick into the taller teen's stomach, drawing out a painfully wet wheeze every time.

"You think you're so righteous, Su-hyeok? Bare-su ?" Gwi-nam drawled as he grabbed a fistful of dark hair, tightening his grip on the teen below him. He trailed his tongue along the shell of Su-hyeok's ear. Su-hyeok shivered in revulsion. "You used to be one of us. So, you think you can just turn your back on us, back on me ? We used to have so much fun - "

"I never wanted to be part of the sick shit you call fun ." The ever encroaching cries of zombies sent a spike of urgency through Su-hyeok's chest. He jerked beneath Gwi-nam's hands in an effort to escape. "Only freaks enjoy all the horrible things you've done, so I no longer wanted to associate with you. I have friends like Cheong-san who - "

Gwi-nam yanked at Su-hyeok's hair in retaliation before burying his nose into the taller boy's neck. He breathed in deeply before chuckling into dark locks. "You smell good, Bare-su. I can almost taste your... yes. Your fear." Gwi-nam then grinned in realization. "It's always been about Cheong-san, hasn't it? So you're scared, right? I know you're scared. Tell me your scared and I'll let you go. I'm only after your precious Cheong-san, after all."

"Shut up, asshole." Su-hyeok winced at the pain in his scalp, fear for Cheong-san sending a droplet of sweat down his neck. Gwi-nam licked it up without pause. "I could never fear a gopher like you."

Gwi-nam's nose flared as he hissed, "Wrong answer!" and dived, teeth bared, into Su-hyeok's neck.

---------------------------------------

When Su-hyeok was thirteen, he overextended his arm playing basketball.

Molten hot rods of something tore through his muscle, sending agony racing all along his arm. He remembered curling in on himself and collapsing to the ground, the forgotten basketball bouncing away in tandem with his hiccupping sobs. He thinks he also screamed himself hoarse that day as he wasn't able to utter a single word the next. For the five years following after, Su-hyeok would watch himself carefully so that had would never have to go through that type of mind-numbing, impossible pain ever again. And suffice to say, he never did.

Until now.

Su-hyeok had been bitten by a person before too; one of his cousins had had a bad habit of doing so as a greeting for the longest time. However, it was usually a quick pain that dulled just as fast as it came. It would never be as bad as his injury at thirteen. At least, he never thought it could. But this -

This -

Nothing could compare to this.

Damp air was Su-hyeok's only warning before blood stained teeth pierced his jugular, all of his senses seeming to zero in on the area and enhance tenfold. A bright flash burst into existence behind his eyelids as he snapped them closed, a scream tearing from his throat. With a morbid curiosity Su-hyeok compared the pain he felt at thirteen to now and quickly deduced that he'd take tearing his arm off over this. At least, he would know what would happen to his him. At least, blood loss would end him quickly. Now, all Su-hyeok could feel was the fire that coursed through his body, head to toe. He felt his joints grind against each other and melt in their sockets. His muscles shriveled up and his bones crumbled to ash. Still, he renewed his struggle against Gwi-nam, fought to leave his grip, to fight back, to stop the pain, to survive -

But all he could do was listen as Gwi-nam cackled from far away. The taller teen felt Gwi-nam draw back them dive in again with gusto, gulping down the life that seeped from Su-hyeok's body that failed to splatter against the linoleum tile.

Su-hyeok's vision began to blur, the cold from the floor below seeping into his deadening limbs. Tears of despair replaced those of pain as his hearing began to fade in and out. A faint grunt then shatter sounded in the distance and he was suddenly free of weight, but that passed his mind quickly when red began to blossom in his vision.

Fear hit Su-hyeok again when he realized that he had truly begun to die.

No! Su-hyeok howled as a cage locked him in his mind. I won't become a mindless zombie! I can't.

He swore.

Goddammit!

He pleaded.

Please!

He cried.

I can't! The others - Cheong-san - they don't know! They don't know that - that there's someone like Gwi-nam out here! If I don't tell them he'll find them and they don't know - !

Su-hyeok did all these things. All the others that came before him did these things. Su-hyeok didn't want to die like this. Neither did the ones before him.

But Su-hyeok was going to die, just like those before him. He wasn't special. He was just a boy, who would love and lose and sacrifice again and again and again -

"No..." Blood dribbled past Su-hyeok's lips and inside, he raged. Fuck this, he wasn't going to die here in a stairwell! He wasn't going to turn, he wasn't going to hurt anyone! He would survive to see his friends again, to feel the sun on his face and breathe in fresh air and tell him because if he didn't fear wouldn't stop Su-hyeok from telling him he wouldn't be able to protect him, touch him, feel him - !

Bare-su!

DIE, LEE SU-HYEOK

Sannie!

Crack

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Chapter 2 will be up soon, I promise!

Thanks for reading my Lovelies,

L_Ryuzaki24

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bluejayblueskies · 4 years ago

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i saw your vent post about your writing and if you don't want any comments please ignore this, but i just wanted to let you know that you are one of my favorite writers in this fandom

i've had your ao3 profile open as a tag on my phone for nearly 5 months now because i am always checking for new fics, and also because i tend to save some fics by authors i like for later so i can read them when i need to be sure it's going to be The Good Stuff™️

your aspec archives week works are some of my favorites (and i haven't read all of them yet. saving for later) and i love the kiss prompts so much!!! hot chocolate kisses is so sweet and i have it downloaded so i can reread it whenever

if you read this, you don't have to answer either

just know someone out there admires your work a lot

hope you're feeling better soon<3

thank you 💕 this message means a lot to me. i'm a little bit stunned that you liked one of my fics enough to download it--i used to download all of my absolute favorites and hoard them on my phone when i was younger (switching phones wiped all of them including some that were deleted off ao3 which genuinely resulted in tears) so hearing that you've downloaded one of mine is... yeah 💛🥺

#ask #anon #thank you again for this message 💕#personal

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onelastbreath-writes · 4 years ago

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On Bruce And Texting:

Author’s Note: Hello and welcome, this is my first properly written fic, originally posted to my AO3, and now that I have finally created a writing blog, it’s here as well. Please enjoy!! AO3. Masterlist

Warnings: Hopefully none, its all cute and fluff <3

Summary: Bruce Wayne texts like he's sending correspondences to the Queen, so of course the little monsters he calls children just have to make fun of him! Brats, the lot of them, but he wouldn't have them any other way.

Features: Bruce Wayne/Selina Kyle, all the bats and birds, mentions JL, no crime fighting, only family fluff, jokes and nods to Millennial and GenZ shenanigans.

Word Count: 2.7k

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Billionaire, genius, tech expert, father of many children, and all around up-to-date-with-just-about-everything type of person he may be, it is also a well-known Fact that Bruce Wayne, the Batman(TM) himself, can’t text to save his life.

Whether it’s due to his Very Proper English Upbringing, his inability to be informal via written correspondences of any type, his indifference, or the fact that it bothers his children so much, Bruce Wayne has not and never will text with anything less than perfect grammar, spelling, and formality. If he has not sent you a proper letter (featuring a dedication, indentation for every paragraph, signature, and post-script when applicable), he did, in fact, not send you that text. Informality is not his Batman Way(TM) according to his children... he’s not too sure what that even means, but it makes his young ones laugh so it’s probably fine?

His oldest children (Richard and Jason) were raised in the time of Change, where computers, internet access, social media, and all things similar were only just being introduced into households en-masse. They were young enough to remember a time without such devices and connectivity (both for very different reasons, of course, but they grew up without the newest technology none-the-less). They could understand his relationship to the digital environment more so than his younger children, but they still tended to poke fun at his ‘texting blunders’ regularly. All his kids somehow ended up as brats. He doesn’t know how this happened. It’s certainly not his fault. He blames the League members, and especially Clark Kent, for their defiant personalities.

His younger children, whom he loves dearly, like to confuse him as much as they possibly can with their slang, egregious spelling errors, and all-around ‘internet humour’. He doesn’t know what ‘wig’ or ‘worm’ or ‘oof’ or anything means. He has no idea what those dances are, or how they relate to the music that seems to always accompany them, and for the love of all that is good, don’t ask him what he thinks of this or that ‘meme’. What even is a ‘meme’, and should he be more concerned about his kids being obsessed with them? He tries, oh my god, does he try to follow the children’s conversations, but they somehow all learned a language he has no idea how to decrypt. His best response to them once they start speaking in tongues is as follows: smile but not too much, listen to child even though he is deeply confused, and pat child on head or shoulder when they are finished and are looking for assurance.

He refuses to be a parent who ignores or tunes out his children, so he always makes sure to put down his work, his crossword, his tools, or whatever else is in his hands when a child searches him out for a conversation. But somehow, despite all the time he spends around them and their strange words, when he gets text from them comprised of abbreviations, acronyms, and completely random words, he goes a little cross eyed. He would never tell anyone, but he keeps a running list on his phone about the things they say that he has had to translate in the past. Spilling tea? Speaking the truth, usually to do with gossip. Wow? Multiple possible meanings: either a video game, or someone saying it (different pronunciation depending on context and who sent the text). Stickbug? A nice little prank with no ulterior motives, just for fun. Something along the lines of “this basic bitch Karen at the grocery store who is a dirty rat-licker and is def an anti-vaxxer just took 45 (forty-five) minutes to decide she didn’t actually want that almond milk. I Stan the cashier who had to put up with her. Rad af dude.” roughly translates to “A rude, middle-aged white woman who wasn’t wearing a mask and doesn’t believe in disease control or vaccinating her children wasted a great deal of an essential worker’s time in the checkout line. The cashier was very professional in their dealings with said customer and should be commended on their actions.”

Given enough time, the internet for searching up new slang words, and occasionally some help from a friend (Alfred, Selina, Lucius, another of his children, etc), Bruce could decode and respond appropriately to most texts. He was quite proud of these achievements, and although he didn’t always like how often his children were on their phones or computers or gaming systems, he was quite proud of how integrated and easily they adapted to the ever-evolving world of electronics. All his kids were gifted in many ways, but their ability to learn, their hunger for knowledge, and their perseverance when exploring new and challenging ideas were always the things that he was most impressed by.

He could do without their comments though. Yes, surprisingly, he did manage to get girlfriends with his type of texting. No, he doesn’t miss the ‘good old days’ when telegraphs were the main form of long-distance correspondence (how old do these brats think he is?!). And yes, he does know what a “tweet” is, and how to “post” on his social media accounts, and what “sliding into your DMs” is (thanks to a frantic search after a WE employee mentioned it near him). The Wayne children, truly whom and what Bruce considers his pride and joy, are cruel little jerks to him sometimes. His hoard of parenting books fails to mention what one should do when their children gang up on them. Bullying is covered of course, but he can’t really talk to a teacher or his guardian about how his second son calls him an idiot sandwich, or that his third son regularly tries to get him to do something “For The Vine”. His oldest and youngest boys are only slightly better in the bullying him department; Richard and his puppy dog eyes when he wants to do something dangerous or not-Alfred-approved, and Damian and his growing collection of pets because “Mother never let me have them, and I am deprived, and don’t you love me Father?”.

His only good child is his beautiful daughter Cassandra, the flower of the Wayne clan. She gives him hugs, and pats his hands, and can sit with him and just enjoy the quiet and stillness when his other children are not around. Her language skills are improving by leaps and bounds every day, and her heart and spirit are unparalleled, but her main method of communication is in her movements. Her hands, her posture, her dancing; Bruce couldn’t think of a more graceful, fluid, powerful person if the world depended on it. His amazing little girl doesn't bully him (and if she ever does, he probably deserves it, he trusts her), so he turns to her most of all when it comes to communicating with someone else. She doesn’t let him send anything that is “sketchy” or “wrong words, bad meaning, Dad”. He would give the world to his children, but for Cassandra, he would destroy it and build her an entirely new one.

Social media, especially with his terrible children all having accounts dedicated to making him look like a simpleton, was another rocky terrain he had to navigate on the regular. He had professionals in place at WE to run the company’s many accounts, paid top dollar to help appeal and relate to the masses, but he mostly had to manage his personal accounts himself. And so, @TheRealBruceWayne was one of the greatest struggles in his adult life. Why can’t he just retweet every post from @WE_Offical and leave it at that? People should only want to know about what’s new with the company. What do you mean they want to know more about our family and private lives? That’s unnecessary, and not important to the running of the company, right? Right? Why are you laughing?!

Luckily, most people in his life aren’t so intimately aware of his struggles. He can act and lie all he wants about being “hip” and “woke” and whatever else the kids are saying these days when he’s with the JL or in board meeting intermissions, networking with his associates. The Batman knows all and sees all, Green Lantern, of course he understands how “Tiktok” works. The Batman is a robot without a funny bone in his body, Green Arrow, but I did witness him sigh and say “same” when he knocked his cup of coffee over while on monitor duty once. No matter how badly his darling children call him out, the Justice League would be so much worse. So, it’s one of his most importantly guarded secrets... even more so than his secret identity at this point. Being unmasked in front of every Gotham rogue would be less detrimental to him than his “friends” learning of his utter ineptitude in staying on top of the younger generations’ lingo.

When questioned why the League doesn’t have a group chat or a forum or anything that they can use to contact each other outside of world ending matters and communicator (”because we’re friends, Batman! Ma and Pa Kent would love to have everyone over for a barbecue!”), the person who dared even mention texting isn’t even given a verbal response. They are just glared at, silently, often for several uninterrupted minutes, frozen in place only able to breathe shallowly in fear of setting off the Bat. “You know why” his glare says, “I’ll eat you, your family, and everything you have ever held dear” the younger members hear. No one makes the mistake of asking about it twice.

Outside of his children and Alfred, and his small circle of true friends involved in all aspects of his life, there is only one more person Bruce allows to know of his Darkest Secret. Selina. Someone most people would recommend he not be involved with. Catwoman: accomplished thief, distraction, chaos-incarnate most nights, and his significant other. Sharp as a whip (ha) and crafty like no one’s business; he is head-over-heels. On again/Off again and all over the place their long romance has been, but no one has ever challenged him, intrigued him, like this clever, beautiful, amazing woman has. He’s brought his partners around his children before, both for their judgement, and for their worst behaviours to vet out any “unworthy” suitors. He trusts them explicitly to tell him the truth about those he allows into the manor; were they rude about Bruce wanting to have group outings, did they say something about Bruce’s money, did they get angry or shout or make anyone uncomfortable while they were here? If his children even looked slightly unhappy with someone he brought them to meet, that person would not be invited back. Children, he finds, have the best sight when meeting people; no motives other than finding safety and love, no fear of consequences from speaking honestly...

Selina, or Catwoman, as they had known her first, was someone all of his kids liked without issue right off the bat. She would make puns and play word games with Richard, his first Robin, tiny, still working on his English, able to connect with him over their acrobatic abilities. His second Robin, Jason, skittish and feisty as an alley cat, knew of Catwoman and her daring escapades long before Bruce found him. The young boy had a few heroes, and no one (not even Wonder Woman) could compare to the incredible burglar who bought food and jackets and medicine for the street kids in Crime Alley. She was saintly in his eyes, and to this day, Bruce was still working on convincing Jason he was good enough for Selina. Tim and Cass and Stephanie (basically another daughter to Bruce, she spends so much time with the family) all joined the Wayne clan around the same time and officially met Selina as a friend and partner of his, and in the good graces of his first two sons. Selina, in all her nightly business, and many travels and acquaintances, had met the three independently, helping Tim get home safely back to Drake Manor when he escaped to photograph Batman and Robin in the dank darkness of Gotham when he was just a young boy, spending some time with Cassandra when her despicable father left her alone long enough to recover from his rough treatment, showing her the first scraps of kindness in her short life, and watching over and protecting Stephanie as she followed and sabotaged her father Cluemaster and his criminal activities. There was no need to win them over once they met her civilian identity, she had already gained their favour and acceptance, and they were happy to have her near their new family. Damian, his youngest, his biological son, took the longest to warm up to Selina. He would never fault his little boy for fighting so hard against a woman that was not his birth mother, especially after all the manipulation and cruelty dealt to him by Talia for the first decade of his life. But as he began to learn about his father, these people in his father’s life, and this woman that was Not His Mother but “still okay, I guess”, he grew to see her as acceptable. Her cats definitely helped, he’d say, no one with cats that loyal and happy can be a bad person.

Selina, the love of his life, he’d admit quietly to himself, was also a dirty traitor and in cahoots with his terrible children. She would say his texting skills were “sweet” and “very gentlemanly” when she was asked by anyone outside the family, and privately to him she would say she thought they were “adorable” and “please don’t ever change, Bruce, I like it.” However, nothing seemed to bring her more joy than his children sending her texts and “Snaps” and “memes” about him to her. Sometimes it was screenshots of the family group chat that they forced him to join, where he would post “To whom it may concern...” and “In regards to...” when he needed to reach all his delinquents in a timely manner. Sometimes it was video clips of him staring at his phone intently, then typing something on his laptop, then him reading and nodding along, and then finally going back and responding to the text he received with a small, pleased smile. And sometimes, when he got too injured or was too incapacitated to text coherently, he’d have his nearest able child transcribe his text to her. Depending on who was texting her for Bruce, she could expect many different things. From Dick, she’d get lots of shorthand and silly emojis, and many, many, winky and crying/laughing faces in brackets depending on what Bruce had made him type. Jason, bless him, used proper English most of the time, but would never write a single word of Bruce’s soliloquy to her, instead she enjoyed the TL;DR version: “hurt again, missing you, come home soon, blah blah blah, sappy gross words here, love you”. Tim would allow speech recognition to run on Bruce’s phone, and just let it go until the man passed out. Stephanie, the little chaos child, would film it and send it to her, including all her muffled laughter and shaky camera shots of Bruce emoting with his available undamaged limbs. Cass, still more versed in physicality and emotive movement, would interpret Bruce’s text into mostly emojis, hearts and happy faces and animals, but would include photos, and phrases that she found important enough to type out for Selina. Damian, forever his Father’s son in any way possible, texts very formally, referring to her or his siblings Bruce mentions by last name only, and lots of “Father requests me to tell you...” and “Kyle, know that Father...”. She adores these kids, and once Bruce recovers enough to text her himself, or she gets back to the Manor, they get to laugh about whatever she was sent this time.

So, while it’s true that Bruce couldn’t text his way out of a wet paper bag, and his kids are sometimes brats about it, there’s probably a lot of different reasons he doesn’t spend too much time trying to improve his skills. Whether it’s the smiles of his children, the giggles of his significant other, or the warm feeling in his chest when he sees all his important people bonding over him, well, in the end, who’s to say?

#batman #batfam #bruce/selina #batcat #bruce wayne #selina kyle #bruce x selina

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aro-aizawa · 4 years ago

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suprisingly not that many people ship them, but the thing is. the "&" is literally in the top 3 relationships!! i have not been in a fandom where a "&" is one of the most popular rships. (im not exactly.. against them? i prefer brotp in general but there are a lot of uh racist antis against that romantic ship so i like it on principle for the ~spite~)

i think theres a difference between a ship fic and a ..normal fic(?). like. usually in ship fics the plot and the focus would be their interactions/getting together. whereas for regular fics u can kinda balance plot and rship, but the main plot isnt actually getting together. do u kinda get what i mean haha

no no feel free to rant! its kinda funny that they taught u to swear in yr6 but rip for not being able to censor urself. and also. broke up. over facebook??? better or worse than text lmao.

the only rship ive had started off... not great. like it was an online friend from south america, and they asked me out literally the day i rejected my friend. so... i said yes out of guilt for rejecting my friend bc it didnt look like my friend was taking the rejection well ^^; not a wonderful start rip. went well for 6-8 months then we broke up bc the honeymoon period wore off and i havent talked to them since! ✌🏻✌🏻✌🏻✌🏻✌🏻✌🏻✌🏻 it was fun tho, but it felt honestly just more online friends tbh (....interesting decisions all around yknow? )

it be how it be. i was still id'ing as panromantic ace at the time. but still. im wondering if i could eventually "work" with someone? or is that just. allonormative asgsggshshd

i see enemies to lovers but what i Rlly want is enemies to friends to lovers. the friends is necessary!! at least in a long fic haha. ...and love at first sight sounds really fake to me? it sounds just like a hyperbole tbh. like maybe it was first wow u seem like a great person and then u like, get to know each other and then fall in love, etc etc

(👀 oop i type a lot. Rip)

oh yiiiikes i hate when fandom gets those racist fans. i’m kind of,,, dense?? about that kind of thing (abt a lot of similar things too), so whenever i see it, it’s like. mega bad. but nice! i don’t ever pay attention to what’s the most popular in terms of ao3 because when i get into a fandom i’ll blacklist every thing i’m not comfortable seeing in said fandom and then save that for when i’m gonna check out said fandom. for example [here is my atla filters], [here is my mha filters] and [here is my ml filters]. (i also use an extention called ao3rdr which has a blacklist function and my blacklist is SO LONG. but it’s an essential so that i don’t feel like my brain is going to rot by trying to find good fics.)

ye!!! i always think abt it in terms similar to genres. i hate watching films and regular books because genres are so....stilted? and ridgid in what it involves? so in fandom terms i think there’s two main kind of genre categories that have sub categories. there’s ship fic, then there’s genfic. no clue if these are wide spread terms i’ve just kind of understood it that way lol. but within those two categories, there’s sub genres like canon divergence that focus on said ship but with a focus on the plot as well so there’s two plots going on rather than just the main plot. usually there’s always equals in both sides. i think that’s what you’re thinking of. the difference is how the authors approach their fics, whether they think it’s a ship fic explorating the how do they get together of relationships or if it’s the genfic of exploring the relationship itself.

lmao yeah it was like. the only way we’d communicate in non-irl fashion because we were both like. 12/13 so we’d have like. pay as you go plans for our phones so i at least, hoarded my credit and primarily used alternate communication methods. so idk if this is wide spread but at the time we never got into the habit of communicating via text. it’s why still to this day i never ever contact my irl friends via texts, and always through social media (the only time i ever use facebook nowadays is to message my friends tho i’ve been,,,, rather lax abt that. i need to respond to one of my group chats but i’m,,, procrastinating). and we were both awkward people, so i wasn’t bothered by the online breakup, if he didn’t break up w me that way i’d have guessed we just,,, wouldn’t address the relationship ever again and still technically be together but not at the same time lol

oh man that sounds rough. never had any experiences w online relationships, but i can definitely see where it could feel like an online friendship. because,,, idk maybe it’s just me but there doesn’t??? seem like there’s much?? romantic-esque stuff you can do exclusively online?? it’s why long distance relationships are hard, and they only fit certain couples. and lol i deffo understand that feel of internet friends dropping out of your life suddenly. i still think of nearly all my internet friends fondly...except for the bad ones. yeah some of those ones ten years ago were p bad.

it is!! i think that people always shorten it to just enemies to lovers though because it’s easier to say lol. i’m MUCH more interested in the genfic varient of enemies to found family because it goes from “god i want to kill you so bad” to “god i need to kill for you like rn”. it’s just,,, *chef’s kiss*

(dw i type a LOT too lmaooo and sorry it took so long for me to reply, i didn’t feel like talking to anyone for a few days ahah i just get those kinds of moods sometimes. as evidenced by my also ignoring of my friend group chat of over seven years, that i’ve been meaning to reply to for over 24 hours and i haven’t yet. yay.)

#anonymous #lemme know if you want me to tag these posts/asks/whatever w a specific tag or smth so you can see them all in one place #like if there's a nickname i can call you #again sorry for the late reply i wasn't ignoring you i was just...stressed lmao #my neighbour had a really loud party for over 8 hours last night #we're in the middle of a pandemic THOMAS #i knew you as a cute toddler don't throw parties when you're dad's away #have fun explaining the fine you're going to be getting bc i reported you :)#next time don't let your friends scream the words to loud music until 11pm #Anonymous

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thisdiscontentedwinter · 5 years ago

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Hi, hi. Disco, so I hope you're doing okay. And I want to apologize for this long ass ranting you're receiving? Anyway, ao3 was banned in my country. I don't want to talk about the role that purity culture played in this shitshow. Since our whole culture is basically all about purity and in this case it's more about politics. It's a disaster for all the content creators and lgbt+ people here. But on the other hand we can still get access to it using vpn, so it's not that bad, right?(1/?)

Except not all people have the energy and money to get one. VPNs are not exactly safe either. And there's always these large takedowns of VPNs. AND people could get into trouble for using it. It's rumored some people got called to the stations for spreading them and others got phone calls from authority for using it. I don't even know anymore. I'm currently being downloading all the fics I treasured too much to read and pictures of my fave. Most importantly, academic articles from Google. (2/?)

I feel so fucking tried of everything happening right now. But still got to find a way to survive, you know? And I would like to say I love you. I love your person, your stories, your patience with us and cruel humor towards idiots, and your pets. Especially your pets. This is not a goodbye, though. At least I hope it's not. I'll try to stick around while I could. But maybe lay low for a few days for now. But IF one day I really can't get onto this or twitter or even ao3 anymore, (3/?)

at least I'd like to have enough resource in my laptop to keep myself going. So, I'm going to go back to my hoarding project. I'm not even hoping everything get better in the future, just don't get any worse, please. P.S. How do I even tell you to "enjoy your day and your freedom" with the right amount of jealousy but without coming off like a threatening? Anyway, I hope everything goes well for the both of us. ox (4/4)

DW: I am so sorry that this is happening to you, and to everyone in your country. I wish that pro-censorship assholes could actually take a look outside their own backyards and see the effect that censorship has on actual living people.

I hope that you don’t have to disappear from your online spaces entirely, but I also hope that you remember that your safety comes first!

Hoard all the stories you can, and I really fucking hope that things don’t get worse for you, but even saying that sounds stupid, because of course things can always get worse, and I don’t need to tell someone living under an oppressive government that! You know better than anyone.

I love you too, and, as always, fuck censorship.

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flightfoot · 5 years ago

Text

We’re The Same ch. 2

AO3/FFN

Oh yeah, a little background on Maya; her father's an assassin, and also an abusive asshole. He went after Damian, torturing him and taunting him into killing him (apparently. I haven't gotten my hands on that comic unfortunately). So Maya went after Damian for "revenge" supposedly, saying that she'd kill him after he'd finished his redemption quest, but that she'd help him in the meantime because he CLEARLY needed help.

...yeah, she's never killed anyone before, and it was really blatantly obvious that she wasn't going to go through with it even then. She was just paying lip service to what she thought she was "supposed" to do. Later once they've pretty much finished the quest, she ended up being the one to comfort Damian when he believed himself to be irrevocably stained with blood, forgave him, declared herself his sister, and gave him a hug.

I wish I had more material to draw from for Maya, I like what little I've seen of her.

Disclaimer: This is a Lovesquare fic, with Identity Reveal, Hawkmoth Reveal, and Hawkmoth Defeat. It is NOT a salt fic.

Thanks to @mini-minou for betaing!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Damian peered up at the manor in front of him. Huge, imposing –

“How quaint.”

– if you didn’t happen to grow up as the prince of a society of assassins and the son of a billionaire, that is.

He took stock of his surroundings. There were cameras at the gate, but ONLY at the gate it seemed.

“Tt. What brain-dead simpleton designed this security system? Does the owner REALLY think this will be sufficient to catch any criminal infiltrating the place? Idiot.”

He launched himself onto a rooftop, getting a better angle to see the whole manor.

Two things stood out from the new vantage point; an open window that seemed to lead to a boy’s bedroom, and a weird patch of wall that wasn’t quite flat. To the casual observer it might appear to just be some strange design on the wall, perhaps an artistic choice.

Damian was NOT a casual observer.

He narrowed his eyes. “Things just got a little more interesting.”

He swung over to the patch of wall, running his fingers over it. Grooves spiraled across it, fitting together in just such a way that…

“I see. So this patch of wall is some sort of covering that can expand and contract. Now why would a perfectly ordinary, everyday citizen – well, aside from being rich – have one of these?”

There was nothing more he could do with that patch of wall. Time to investigate the window.

Swinging back around the manor, he took a better look at the room… and its occupants.

He narrowed his eyes. Seems I wasn’t far off about the spirit of the cat.

Inside a boy typed away at his computer, looking up news reports about Robin. Not a huge surprise, seeing as how the boy was almost certainly Chat Noir.

Slightly MORE surprising was the tiny black cat-like creature stuffing his face with cheese.

Seriously, how was he even eating that much, that cheese was bigger than his entire body?!

Oh wait, magic. Stupid question.

So he’d almost certainly found Chat Noir. Not exactly why the tracker had disappeared, but he had a start.

Time to do a little digging.

He brought out his phone and got to work.

Hm. Seemed like this mansion belonged to Gabriel Agreste, a world-famous fashion designer. He’d been reclusive ever since the disappearance of his wife nearly a year ago, only making a handful of public appearances. Judging from what little he could dig up, he seemed like a rather cold man who didn’t put up with anything he considered nonsensical or silly, such as when he was called into a game show without apparently having agreed to it. Damian actually agreed with his displeasure at being tricked into participating, but his tone and body language… it was a little too familiar for his liking.

There wasn’t much info on the wife, Emilie. Apparently her maiden name was Graham De Vanily. Her family owned a studio called Graham films. From her few public appearances, it appeared that she’d gradually been getting sicker and weaker over the months before her disappearance, though there was no news of her being diagnosed with any illness.

And then there was the final member of the family, Adrien Agreste, AKA Chat Noir. A fourteen year old model, he had plenty of professional photos and lots of celebrity appearances.

Damian’s eyes narrowed.

Plenty of celebrity appearances… but little outside of that. Not until a few months ago, when he started going to public school. Then he started being tagged in other people’s photos, being talked about as a friend. Before that the only person his age who seemed to know him on a personal level was Chloe Bourgeois, and it took only about a minute of research to figure out that she was a stuck-up rich brat. It was always possible that his personal life was just kept private before this, but… well, Damian’s instincts were telling him that something was very, very wrong here.

Time to get a little more hands-on. Luckily the security of the mansion was ABYSMAL. Seriously, if Gabriel had lived in Gotham, both he and Adrien would have been kidnapped dozens of times in the last few years.

He didn’t need to make much of an effort. A few minutes after he’d put down the phone and started surveilling the mansion, a woman – judging by her appearance, most likely Nathalie, Gabriel Agreste’s assistant, opened the door. The little cat creature disappeared into Adrien’s shirt, likely to conceal himself from her, and Adrien left the room. Luckily for Damian, he left the window open.

He quietly alighted in the room. It was huge and had a lot of stuff in it, but nothing of interest, except-

He followed his nose. And wished he hadn’t.

“YUCK!”

So that cat creature had an entire hoard of the stinkiest cheeses that Damian had ever smelled in his life. And judging by how huge the stash was, he ate a LOT.

He swiftly closed the cabinet door. If anything else was in there, it wasn’t worth sacrificing his nose to find it.

His next discovery was a little less nauseating to his senses.

Damian pulled out a photo from the trophy where Adrien had hidden it and several other similar photos.

So the flirtations weren’t just banter then. Great, he’s lovesick.

Damian rolled his eyes and put the photo back. It was always a pain to deal with couples on a team, they were always making googly eyes at each other and being gross and NOT concentrating on the mission.

There wasn’t time to investigate much else – not without risking discovery. He planted a few bugs and cameras and moved on, entering the air duct.

He pulled up the floor plans of the building to use as a map… and soon frowned. The floorplan differed slightly from what he’d seen from the outside, especially with that strange covering. Not TOO big a surprise – that covering was obviously meant to conceal SOMETHING – but the size of the difference was pretty staggering. It seemed like at least a 500 square foot room had been secretly added to the mansion and NO ONE had noticed.

But even that didn’t explain what he saw in front of him.

He frowned. Now where was THIS little fork in the road supposed to go?

The duct split, one piece of it following the regular floor plan, as shown in public records, and the other decidedly NOT following that, instead curving steeply downwards.

A secret place that – judging by how long and how steep the ductwork was – lay underneath a mansion? If it was some sort of cave he should get Bruce to sue for copyright infringement.

It was not a cave.

A huge chamber stretched before him. It looked almost like a mausoleum, with its high ceiling, ornate windows, and general over-the-top atmosphere.

A cult, perhaps? They were fairly common – WAY too common – in Gotham, but he’d been hoping to maybe not run into them as often elsewhere.

He should have known better. Sheep existed everywhere in the world.

Still, if it was a cult, it must be a small one. The walkway wouldn’t be able to fit more than one or MAYBE two people, and the “island” at the end of it wasn’t exactly huge. Speaking of which…

He walked to the end, peering at the closed pod. A human-sized pod that was obviously supposed to be the focal point of the room underneath the manor of a millionaire who he strongly suspected wasn’t Father of the Year, when his wife had disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Yeah this boded well and wasn’t suspicious in the slightest.

He prepared to hack the pod to open it up, or at least to get information on what was inside, but discovered there was no need. There was no security on it, it only required a button press to open.

Seems like Gabriel Agreste hadn’t thought to include any contingency measures for someone breaking into his lair.

The pod doors opened, revealing pretty much what Damian had expected.

Because of COURSE Gabriel was keeping his “missing” wife in a pod underneath the manor. Naturally. Why wouldn’t he? That’s a perfectly normal thing for a perfectly normal man to do.

Question was, was she alive and in some sort of coma or suspended animation, or dead and being kept preserved?

He examined her closely, checking her for signs of degradation and any sign of life. If she was breathing it was so low as to be undetectable, and her heart rate also appeared nonexistent. However, while her vital signs were missing, she appeared to be in good health otherwise, with no sign of rot or decay at all.

Suspended animation it was then.

After taking a picture, he closed the pod. If she was in suspended animation it may still be possible to revive her. He didn’t want to be responsible for more death.

A small insect flew by – a white butterfly.

What was a butterfly doing here? Then again, what was ANY of this doing here, especially the foliage.

Wait… a white butterfly – like the one that had been released when the akuma was purified.

A butterfly emerged from a cocoon on a nearby branch. Dozens of similar cocoons hung nearby.

A reclusive millionaire who was hardly seen out of his house, two massive rooms that didn’t appear on the floor plan, one of which housed his supposedly missing wife, and dozens of the same type of butterfly that Hawkmoth used to create his akumas?

It was possible that Gabriel Agreste wasn’t Hawkmoth. It was also possible that Damian would spontaneously grow wings and decide to become an opera star. Both possibilities seemed equally likely.

Might as well set up some cameras and bugs and then get out of here. If Gabriel descended the elevator, he’d have trouble leaving without being spotted. Wouldn’t be a problem if Gabriel was only down here for a short period of time, but if he wasn’t…

Swiftly he returned to the duct, heading back to the surface.

As he crawled around the vents, he left numerous bugs everywhere he could without leaving the vent, along with tiny cameras at each vent opening. When preparing to break into the lair of a supervillain, it paid to be prepared.

He shot off a quick text to Ducard, telling her to meet up with him at a certain rooftop he’d spotted that had some good cover. They needed to exchange notes.

It was time to take down a supervillain.

#We're the same #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #Damian wayne #adrien agreste #gabriel agreste

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p-artsypants · 5 years ago

Text

Longest Night (17) Analyzing

Marinette had thought Highschool had been hard. Right now, in this moment, she'd give anything to go back to those petty arguments and gossip fueled drama. But she couldn't. Instead, she and Adrien were trapped here, being punished, humiliated, tortured, for being heroes, all broadcasted for the world to see. At least she and her kitty were in this together. For now. Whump!Fic

Ao3 | FF.net

This chapter is much like the last, rehash of chapter 15, in perspective of Alya and the others.

—

Believe it or not, there were a handful of people in Paris that actually hated Ladybug and Chat Noir. Salo and Hawkmoth were the obvious ones, of course. And then there was Lila Rossi, who had been spurned by Ladybug time and time again. But she tended to keep her distaste a secret.

But there was one other in the City of Lovers whose life was continually complicated by Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Minster of the Interior, Arthur Vanderguard.

As Minister of Interior, one of his most important jobs of late was to protect the city in the event of an akuma attack.

Something that he was wholly unprepared for every time.

It was getting increasingly frustrating to do his job when his men, the police, decided to listen to a little girl before listening to him. Everyone listened to Ladybug first. And then when her plans failed, he had to pick up the slack. He had to hold off hoards of zombies or knights or whatever the akuma of the week was, while she was given the floor to do her little superhero routine and stop the big bad. Of course, she always fixed everything afterwards, which was the only reason he hadn’t resigned completely.

But if anyone, the mayor, his chief of police, anyone at all, decided to listen to his plans, he would be able to stop Hawkmoth with ease.

But no.

It was always, “Ladybug and Chat Noir know what to do!” “They’ll stop them for sure!”

Arthur couldn’t believe the people of this city could be dense enough to trust children with the safety of a highly populated and historic city. It floored him really.

And of course, when things went catastrophic and people got hurt, who did the media, the mayor, and the people of Paris blame?

I’ll give you a hint: It wasn’t Ladybug.

No, the amount of times he had to speak at a press conference and apologize for a gruesome mistake that one of his men made because they listened to Ladybug was astounding. And then he had to thank the little insect, for fixing her mistake with her magical Ladybugs. And then the cycle would continue on and on in a dizzying spiral.

The day Salo appeared on the TV and announced that she had captured Ladybug and Chat Noir, he was elated. But only on the inside, of course. Ladybug and Chat Noir were out of the way!

But now, he was fairly certain that he would be responsible for rescuing them.

Why this punishment? What had he done in his life to deserve this?

Then Salo had taken the Miraculous, and Arthur was met face to face with the children that kept stepping on his toes. Children, for sure.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was 17, Adrien Agreste 18.

If he wasn’t so pissed, he might have been impressed.

But as it was, his boss, the Mayor, his men, and Paris itself was completely enraptured by a baker’s daughter and a model.

As he watched the stream, he couldn’t help but feel bad for them. This was torture, and they didn’t deserve this at all. Because Ladybug did fix everything in the end. So even when his job had him stressed, things still worked out okay.

But as of right now, he was off the clock, and it wasn’t his problem.

Until his phone rang.

An unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Is this the Minister of Interior?”

“Who is this? How did you get this number?”

“This is Chloe Bourgeois. The mayor’s daughter. Daddy gave me your number.”

Arthur groaned and slapped a hand to his face. Not this. “What do you need, M. Bourgeois?”

“I demand to know how you plan to save my Adrikin’s and Marinette Dupain-Cheng!”

He rolled his eyes. It hadn’t even been ten minutes since they were revealed to everyone! Surely it wouldn’t be a problem, right? “I assure you, I will do everything in my power to save your friends.”

“See that you do.” And she, blessedly, hung up.

Great. Another thing he was getting blamed for.

Well, maybe if he saved them, people might finally start listening to him again. If he was really lucky, he might get a raise. Who knows? Maybe he could swing this in his favor.

He’d meet with the mayor in the morning.

—

Chloe went back to the Agreste estate with Alya and Nino after school.

They gathered in Adrien’s room, and Nino hooked the computer up to the TV, so they could watch the stream.

Marinette and Adrien still hung from their wrists, as they had for hours now.

“Let’s go over our facts.” Stated Alya, looking at her notebook.

“We know the ‘who.’” She took out a piece of paper, which was a photocopy of the folder Detective Bertony had. “The Detective gave me this to give to Rena Rouge and Carapace. This is the most pertinent information he has, but I can get copies of the rest of the file. Bianca Furtoli, age 46. Lover of Edward Savauge, the drug dealer that Ladybug and Chat Noir captured two days ago. That’s also the ‘why.’ Apparently, this is revenge for sending him to jail.”

“We also know a vague ‘how’. Ladybug and Chat Noir were fighting a very large akuma when they were thrown into a building and disorientated. From there, Salo administered ‘GHB’ a drug commonly used to knock people out for assault.”

“Now we’re just left with the ‘where.’” Said Nino.

Alya smiled slightly, “But I have a pretty good guess. Marinette and Adrien were last seen in Paris at 12:15, according to my post on the blog. Give or take a few minutes. Salo had them at least by the 6 o’clock news. That gives them a little over 5 hours to get them to the location that they are in now.”

A map of France and its surrounding countries laid on the coffee table, with a circle drawn around it. “In a five hour period, you can get to most of these destinations. Most of France, and the outer edge of England, Belgium, Germany, Luxembourg, and Switzerland. Now, with the word ‘Notausgang’ that Marinette stated she saw on the wall, that boils it down to a primarily German speaking country. ‘Notausgang’ means emergency exit, which would be written in French too if it was in a area that spoke several languages like Alsace-Lorraine. So we are looking at, of course Germany, and maybe Luxembourg, depending on the area. But if we are looking at Germany, we are somewhere between the border, Cologne, Frankfurt, and Stuttgart.”

Chloe and Nino both frowned at the map. “That’s still a lot of ground to cover.”

“True.”

“But,” added Nino, “we also need to point out this little location in Montparnasse.” He drew a little dot on the map.

“Yeah, but Rena Rouge and Carapace already checked there. That’s where they are broadcasting from, and where their servers are.”

“Sure, but I think we shouldn’t forget about it.”

“Fair.”

Chloe looked at the map, as she had been silent this entire time. “Is that everything?”

Alya crunched her face up as she flipped through her notes. “Well, I think they’re in a cellar or basement, given the cement walls. Maybe an old building.”

Chloe tapped her chin. “Well, I’ll just tell my daddy that we’re going to Germany, and we’ll borrow the private jet and get over there!”

“It’s not that simple, Chloe.” Alya said calmly, “We can’t just up and leave for Germany. Especially if we go with you, and then Rena Rouge and Carapace are seen with Queen Bee! Salo figured out how to catch Marinette and Adrien like that.” She snapped her fingers. “If we’re not careful, she could take our families too. I have little sisters—“ She cut herself off before she became too distressed. “And, if Salo finds out we’re on to her, what’s stopping them from moving somewhere else?”

“What do you expect us to do?”

Alya frowned. “We need more time, and more clues.”

“We don’t have more time! How long do we have before they’re killed?”

“118 days.” Alya stated, blank faced.

Chloe blinked. “What?”

Alya got her notes out again. “Sorry, I missed this part. ‘Salo’ is a name of a torture porn from the 70s. Its surname is ’120 days of Sodom’. Salo is leaving us a clue for a time limit.”

“Are you sure?”

“That’s what the detective believes.”

“And you trust him?”

Alya shrugged. “I really don’t know who to trust anymore.”

Chloe stood and walked to the window, holding herself. Pollen floated up next to her, nuzzling her cheek. “I’m not used to things being bigger than me.” Chloe confessed. “The world, no matter how big it was, felt small. I could go anywhere, do anything…If daddy couldn’t fix something, he had people for that. So…not being able to lift my finger and have it fix is…it’s really messing with me. Sorry.”

Alya and Nino shared a look. “Chloe,” Alya said, trying to be comforting. “We didn’t recruit you so that you could fix it with a snap…although I wish you could.”

Chloe gave a watery chuckle.

“We gave you the Miraculous because you want to help, and you’re capable of it. We might need that private jet. I don’t know. But just you being here, ready to help, says volumes about you.”

Chloe gave a shaky nod and then came back to sit at the couch, feeling like she could breathe better. “Gotta make Dupain-Cheng proud, right?”

—

It was around 6pm when something started to happen on the stream.

“Well well well, how are we doing now? 12 hours is a long time to leave you hanging around. I’m so sorry, I meant to come back sooner, but I had errands to run.”

Alya turned the volume up, and got her notebook ready. The main hope was that since Salo was so cocky, she’d let something else slip.

“I heard your little speech, Ladybug. Very moving. I’m sure mommy and daddy loved to hear all about how you lied to them over and over for years. And the Ladyblogger! Oh, she must be absolutely crushed. Her best friend, her hero, lying selfishly. Dangling that one bit of knowledge that she always wanted just out of reach. What a friend!”

“Bitch.” Alya muttered.

“But I’d like to correct one thing, however. You told Paris to be kind and all that junk, to make sure it stays safe until you could come back. Sorry, Ladyliar, you’re not leaving. Gabriel Agreste blew the only chance of Adrien getting out, and you…you have no chance. I have you right where I want you…So much spirit in you still. That’s fine, we’ll cure you of that soon enough.”

The group watched as Marinette and Adrien were re-chained behind their backs, and forced to stand on galvanized buckets. Salo brought a black sack over, and went to put in on Adrien’s face.

“No…no, no please don’t! Please!”

“Oh, what’s wrong kitty cat? Afraid of the dark? Or are we…claw-strophobic?”

“Oh dude…” Nino breathed. “He is. He is claustrophobic!”

Chloe buried her face in her hands. “I can’t watch!”

Thankfully, they were spared, as someone spoke off screen. “Incoming call ma’am.”

“Oh, a call, hmm?”

“The facial recognition program found a match.”

“Oh goody. We mustn’t keep him waiting then!”

One of the camera’s switched from showing the room, to showing the caller.

Hawkmoth, looking as stone cold as ever.

Alya bit her thumb.

“My my, took you long enough. I would have thought Hawkmoth would have the Ladyblog as the home screen on his computer.”

“Did you summon me to antagonize me?”

“Summon you? What, like you’re some sort of demon? Some kind of god?”

He remained emotionless.

“Your face says I’m wasting your time, but your eyes say you’re jealous.”

“Get on with it.”

She chuckled, “And impatient too. No wonder you always lost.”

Salo walked off camera, and when she returned, she held both of the miraculous in her hand. “Here, the Ladybug earrings and the Black Cat ring. Bonafide jewels of magic. Now, what will you give me for them?”

Hawkmoth narrowed his eyes.

“I knew she was going to try this.” Said Alya, pressing her fingers to her temple. “I should have taken down the blog when I had the chance.”

Salo went on. “I have no idea what you want with these. I can’t see the appeal of a grown man running around playing superhero. Perhaps you want the Black Cat to use for heists? But I couldn’t fathom a use for the Ladybug earrings. Unless you want them to be a circus performer.”

Hawkmoth remained emotionless and silent.

“You know, in bartering, there has to actually be, you know…bartering.”

“What about the children?” He asked. “If I want the gems, and those two along with them. What’s the price?”

Alya’s heart dropped into her shoes. What on earth did Hawkmoth want with them?!

Salo barked out a laugh. “You-you want—oh that’s rich! What? You want to torture them yourself?” She shook her head. “No can do, Hawkman. I have business with them. But that was a good joke.” She wiped a pretend tear from her eyes. “Look, these are useless to me. I have all the power anyone could ever want. I’m being reasonable by offering these to you first, since you so desperately want them. But if you don’t want them, then I’ll just put them for auction up online. You can try to get them there, before some other yahoo outbids you. So, do you want them, or not?”

Hawkmoth’s lip twitched in a scowl. “Oh, I want them. But I’m not making any deals with you. I abhor torture.”

She scoffed. “Oh yeah, and what would you have done with these two if you had gotten their miraculous on your own?”

“I would have sent them home. I have nothing against them personally. It is their job to fight the akuma. And once relieved of that duty, they are free to go. In the same way, they have a duty to Paris to stop criminals. But now they’re only teenagers. What you’re doing goes beyond revenge, it’s insanity.”

The notebook slipped out of Alya’s hands. This was…unbelievable.

“Oh, so now the terrorist is trying to lecture me? You’re playing all high and mighty, now that you’re not the villain anymore. But I guarantee you, if it was you verses them, and the Miraculous were in sight, you would do anything, including killing them, to get them. Don’t talk to me about insanity.”

Hawkmoth grit his teeth in anger, a fire of hatred burning in his eyes. “I will be taking those Miraculous on my own.”

“I’d love to see you try. Tell you what, I won’t put these up for auction until I’ve disposed of these two maggots. Go ahead, akumatize any random, innocent civilian you want and send them to me. But unlike them,” she thrust a thumb over her shoulder, “I won’t hesitate to kill your little minions.”

Hawkmoth ‘hmph’ed and the call ended.

The room was silent for a moment, as everyone digested what just happened.

“What…the…ever-loving—“ Started Nino.

“That is…not what I expected him to do.”

Salo laughed. “What a moron! No wonder he loses all the battles. No strategy, no thinking, just ‘I’m gonna get them’. It’s pretty sad actually. You weren’t even good heroes, just better than the villains you faced.”

Chloe was staring ahead, blankly, and then turned to look at Alya. “What…what did Hawkmoth want with the Miraculous?”

“We don’t know.” Alya answered, just as listlessly. “I never understood why he wanted those two, specifically…Marinette might have a guess.”

The group was startled as Adrien darted forward, head butting Salo in the face, before running towards the door.

A gunshot ran out over the speakers, and Chloe shrieked.

“Next time I won’t miss.”

The gun was trained right between Marinette’s eyes, who stared her down fearlessly.

“It’s your decision kitty cat. The door is right there. You can run, or you can save your little girlfriend.”

Adrien hesitated for just a second, and Alya thought that was the end.

But, blessedly, he walked back to his place.

“What do you say?”

“…sorry, ma’am.”

She punched him solidly in the gut, knocking the wind out of him, and sending him to the floor.

He rolled onto his side, desperately gasping for breath.

“What do we say?”

He gasped over and over, trying to breathe. “I’m—I’m sorry, ma’am.”

She kicked him in the side, making him cry out.

“What do we say!?”

“I’m sorry! I won’t do it again!” He all but screamed.

Pasolini grabbed his arms and hauled him to his feet.

“Then stand on the bucket.”

Salo slipped the hood on, making sure it covered him completely, before she stepped away.

“I can’t breathe,” he choked.

“What was that, kitty cat?”

“I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe!” His shoulders hunched as he flailed his head. “Please, I can’t breathe! Get it off!”

Salo ignored him, and slipped a hood onto Marinette.

“I can’t breathe!” He wailed. “Help!”

“Adrien!” Marinette cried. “Take a slow, deep breath.”

“I-I can’t! I-I-!”

“Sshh…” She hushed him. “Just inhale….and exhale…”

Marinette continued to comfort him, as Salo and her men got out ladders, and began to tie rope to the ceiling. At the end were nooses.

“You said we had time!” Chloe shouted at Alya.

“I thought we did!” She shouted right back.

“What’s happening, my lady?”

“I…I don’t know. Just keep breathing…”

“I’m—I’m scared.”

“Me too, kitty. Just keep breathing.”

Then the nooses were around their necks, and those watching began to sob.

“Do you know what this is?”

Adrien shuttered.

Marinette answered. “It’s…a rope…Oh god…” She started to cry.

“This is a very easy game to play.” Said Salo. “All you have to do, is stay very still. As long as you don’t fall, you won’t lose! Now won’t this be so much fun?”

Adrien made a noise that sounded halfway between a sob and heave.

“Oh come now! You’ve been standing for 12 hours already, what’s one more?”

It was agony. This woman sure knew her stuff. Salo walked off screen, as Marinette and Adrien stood, waiting for their demise.

All of Paris listened to the heartbroken sobs of their heroes. Terrified out of their minds.

As Adrien cried out, Marinette spoke to comfort him, but Salo smacked her in punishment.

She began to wobble.

“Oh Mari, no…please don’t fall.” Alya whispered. “Girl please…”

The bucket toppled, the rope tightened, and Marinette let out a choked gasp.

“No!!” The three leapt from the couch and screamed.

“My lady!” Adrien shouted.

Marinette was standing on her tippy toes, her neck extended as far as it would go. And she was desperately gasping for air.

“Marinette! Marinette please say something!”

Alya’s pulse pounded in her ears. How long could she stay like that? How long could she survive?

Finally, the rope was cut and she collapsed on the floor.

“My lady…my lady…” Adrien kept calling for her. Begging her to answer.

She was freed of her hood, as she continued to lay on the ground.

“Adrien…” she whispered. “Hang…hang in there…”

“My lady!” His voice was wet with relief, and he outright sobbed.

The hour ended, and his noose and hood were pulled off as well. He was weeping, tears soaking his face, as his lips pulled into a grimace.

They watched as they were both led from the room, Marinette having to be dragged.

“I’m going to kill her.” Alya stated, not for the first time. “I’m going to put her in a noose for an hour and see how she likes it!”

“Al, calm down.”

Alya shot to her feet. “No! I won’t calm down! Maybe I’ll attract another akuma! I’ll take it this time! Let me be Lady Wifi again! Akumatize me!”

But there was no akuma to be found, and Alya collapsed back onto the couch, crying into her palms. “I’m a superhero, damnit…why am I so useless?”

“How do you think everyone else in this city feels?” He asked. “Yeah, we have Miraculous. Yeah, we know them personally. But what about all the other people who love them? Who were saved by them?”

Alya shook her head. “But we’re the ones who have a chance! We can save them!”

“Alya…we’re just kids.”

Her hands flopped down to her legs, as she stared at the floor in silence. “So…we give up?”

“No, of course not.” He petted her hair. “I just think you’re being too hard on yourself. We can’t help them if we’re too busy having a pity party.”

The stream was still going, even though there was no one in the room.

“Last time, Salo had a message of when the next stream was.”

“Then we’ll just wait for it.”

About a half hour passed until the stream changed. The camera views were different, and the footage was only in black and white. Marinette and Adrien were sitting on the floor, eating something.

“They get food!” Chloe cried with relief.

“It doesn’t look like much.” Nino added.

Alya just watched with wet eyes.

Marinette was speaking.“Oh…I just…I was thinking, earlier, when we were chained up and waiting…I was looking at you, as you slept. And…I felt like I was looking at a stranger. You’re my best friend, and I care so so much about you, but…You’re not Adrien anymore, and you aren’t Chat. You’re just…different.”

“Oh…yeah, I see what you mean. I…I kinda feel the same. I’m so used to seeing Ladybug so fearless and sassy, and then Marinette shy and adorable…seeing Marinette being rebellious and…humiliated like this is…foreign.”

“Were you disappointed?” She whispered.

“What?”

“Were you disappointed? You said, a few days ago, that you were in love with Ladybug. Were you disappointed when you found out I was her?”

“No…Well…I was disappointed in myself. I promised that I would know you immediately, out of the mask. And so allowed myself to fall head over heels in love with you. In fact, there was a handful of people I would have been disappointed with if you had turned out to be them. But you were with them in person, so I didn’t worry.”

“Oh, like who?”

“My father for example.”

That managed to give smiles to those at home. “Your father, Gabriel Agreste, as Ladybug!? How the hell did you think that as an option!?”

“You don’t know! The miraculous could drastically alter someone’s appearance! If my father wanted to look like a 15 year old girl…then that’s on him, I guess.”

She giggled some more. “Boy, I hope Salo doesn’t have cameras in here right now.”

“In case she does…sorry father, that was a joke.”

This was a private moment. A conversation between two partners. Two friends.

No one had the right to listen in.

And yet Salo broadcasted it to everyone.

It was kind of uplifting, hearing Ladybug and Chat Noir admit, in some capacity, that they loved each other. Although, they didn’t outright say it.

“I looked for you.” He said softly. “I looked everywhere for you. But…you had been there, all this time. And I never noticed. I’m so sorry.”

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

“What about you?” He asked. “You have, or had, a crush on me. But you always rejected Chat Noir.”

“I’m so happy that you’re my kitty.” She croaked, emotional. “I always thought that you were so kind and forgiving…it makes sense that you’re him.”

“I’m glad.” He hummed. “Back before all this, before the photo thing…I thought you hated me.”

“What?”

“Yeah! I mean, you were always so…uncomfortable around me. I thought maybe you were still holding a grudge a little from the whole gum incident.”

“What! I would never!”

“I know that now.” He snickered. “I just...I’m sheltered. I still haven’t picked up on all social cues.”

“Oh, I think you’re doing pretty okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Most of the time.”

He hummed. “Then I guess you’ll just have to stay with me to help me with the few I miss.”

There was a pause, and Adrien made a confused face. “What?”

“What what?”

“Didn’t you just say my name?”

“No...?”

“You so did! Just now!” Adrien turned in his cell towards her.

“I said ‘most of the time’ and that’s it!”

“I could have sworn—What?”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Well someone did! I just heard my name! I keep hearing someone calling for me!”

Marinette was sat up a little bit, “You…you didn’t just say my name, did you?”

“No…and I didn’t hear it either…Ugh this is freaking me out! Is it a ghost?”

Marinette scoffed. “More than likely, it’s a tiny speaker that Salo hid in your cell. Mine too.”

Almost instantly, Marinette’s body went slack and she slumped against the wall.

Adrien called out for her, but likewise, he collapsed.

“What’s happening to them?” Asked Chloe.

“I have no idea. They were fine just a minute ago.”

Marinette’s mouth opened, and she called out for him. “Cccccchhhhhhaaaaatttttt…” Her voice was slow and drawn out, some drool tripping off her lip.

Adrien started flailing, like he was losing his balance. Then he pulled at the door of his cell. It opened without any resistance and he wandered out.

The camera changed angles to show the room they were in. The three could see the cages they were being kept in, that looked like old duct work. The rest of the room was mostly empty. Some junk scattered around, and a plank of wood over the doorway.

Adrien stumbled out, swaying back and forth, looking like a drunkard. He turned towards Marinette’s cage and started walking, with a heavy lean backwards, like he was fighting gravity.

“What is wrong with him?” Chloe demanded. “He looks drunk.”

Nino opened his mouth a few times, then said, “Dehydration?”

Alya shook her head. “Not like this. It has to be drugs. Of some kind. Maybe in the food.”

“I’m not dreaming am I?” Adrien asked aloud.

He turned around in a circle, then tried to swing his bum arm around. “I’m not dreaming, am I?” He asked again. “Didn’t I just say that?”

He wobbled and finally reached Marinette’s cage. Opening the door, he leaned against the opening.

“You’re not Marinette.” He said.

The camera showed Marinette looking up at him. He was definitely looking at her, but he was seeing someone else. And so was she.

“I’m not?” She asked right back.

“Have we met before?”

“Have we met before?” Parroted Marinette.

“Yes of course!” Said Adrien, then muttered something incomprehensible.

Marinette stood slowly, her world swaying.

“You’re my mommy!” Adrien giggled, his hands over his mouth.

“They’re hallucinating.” Alya breathed.

“That’s sick.” Nino spat.

Then Adrien screamed. Screamed bloody murder, blowing out the microphones. He scrambled, his movement frantic, but graceless, as he whirled around in space.

Marinette was scrambling after him, rage on her face, and thus began the slowest chase anyone had ever seen. Multiple times, they both fell on the floor, rolling around like they were drowning.

Adrien gathered his footing and ran at full speed at the wall, colliding with it, over and over and over again, like if he hit it hard enough, he would break through.

Nino winced with each impact.

“Oh, did that hurt?” She asked, as Adrien slid to lay on the floor.

“I’m not dreaming am I?”

“You already said that.”

“I’m losing my mind.”

“Quite possibly.”

They reached out for each other, taking hold of the other’s wrist. They both pulled, Adrien raising off the floor, only to fall back down again. They were both screaming incomprehensible garbage at each other.

Adrien just started rolling around on the floor, squawking and squealing, making ungodly noises of pain and fear.

They couldn’t begin to imagine what he was seeing.

Marinette wasn’t much better. She wasn’t on the ground, but she was still screaming. Alya heard her call out for Chat once or twice. She staggered a few steps, her foot colliding with something metal on the ground. She stooped and picked it up.

A crowbar.

“Put it down, Mari.” Alya begged. “Drop it!”

With a shriek, she started to hack at Adrien with the crowbar, hitting him in the chest as he continued to scream.

Blood came out of his mouth with each hit.

Finally, Marinette stopped, just at the apex of her swing.

“My lady?” He asked softly.

The crowbar clattered to the ground loudly.

“Chat? Is that you?” She asked.

“I…I don’t know.” He answered honestly. “I feel like…I’m not me.”

“Me neither.”

Marinette staggered backwards, and started screaming again. And Adrien started to roll around. It was starting over again.

—

Many hours passed. The sun had set, and the streetlights had gone on. Chloe wandered over to Adrien’s bed and collapsed. She laid there crying for several hours before she finally fell asleep. Nino watched for much longer, but his head lolled, and he fell asleep on the couch.

Alya was the only one still awake, watching as Adrien and Marinette continued their drug induced haze. Her eyes burned, her tears all dried up.

Trixx floated up to her face. “You should go to sleep, pretty girl.”

“Can’t.” Alya shook her head. “I have to…have to watch for clues.”

“If there hasn’t been any so far, I don’t think there will be any.”

Alya rubbed her eyes, blinking back the emotion that threatened to take her. She glanced at her phone. “School starts in two hours.”

“You aren’t going to school,” her kwami scolded gently. “You need to sleep or your going to start hallucinating too.”

“I…don’t think I can sleep. Even if I wanted to.”

Trip swooped over and turned off the TV. “Then do something else for a little while. If you watch this any longer, you’re not going to be any help to them.”

Alya sighed. “Fine. I’ll do something else.”

Adrien’s computer was just over there. Maybe he wouldn’t have a password on it. She sat down, and shook the mouse, the screen coming to life. His wallpaper was him with his mother, which was almost too painful to look at.

She clicked on Chrome, pulling up the internet. His most recent page was the Ladyblog, and he was logged in.

As Chat Noir.

Alya chuckled to herself. “If anyone had gotten on this computer at any time, they would have figured you out.”

Allowing him some privacy, she logged him out, and logged in as herself.

Salo’s post to Hawkmoth was gone. Whether she took it down or Max did, Alya didn’t know. And she didn’t really care.

She opened a new post, knowing she should probably do this before things got out of hand, and people starting asking questions. They probably were, but she hadn’t checked her notifications since they went missing.

Hi Ladybloggers, Alya here.

I’m sure you’ve seen the news. If you haven’t, it is with a heavy heart that I announce that Ladybug and Chat Noir have been captured by a woman going by the name Salo. She has them held hostage somewhere undisclosed. She’s been streaming on this site (WARNING: What she is doing to them is graphic and not for the faint of heart. Those under the age of 18 probably shouldn’t look.) They have had their Miraculous stolen and their identities exposed.

Ladybug is my best friend, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, who I have talked about several times on the blog.

Chat Noir is also a good friend of mine, Adrien Agreste, head model for Gabriel Agreste. He’s in my class.

I’m sure many articles and news sites will try to get the scoop on what kind of people they are. I’m in contact with their parents right now, and I’d just like to say, if a story is not endorsed by my blog, it most likely is not factual, and not authorized by either family. (This does not include any interviews that Adrien did prior to being captured.)

When I am ready, I will share some clips of Marinette that we took together. I want everyone to know how amazing, wonderful, thoughtful, helpful and kind they both are in their other lives. They took the superhero duty above and beyond the mask and always tried to help others and do the right thing.

Soon, I will also be making a detailed transcript of what happens in the stream, for those of you who are unwilling to watch it. Anyone willing to help with this endeavor, please message me.

First thing first though. Marinette, Ladybug, had said something earlier today that I want to share and hammer home.

“If you’re watching this, you…you’re probably feeling a little hopeless. I don’t blame you. I feel…pretty hopeless too. I mean, I’m stuck. I’m not sure how I’m going to get out of this. But Ladybug always saves the day, right?

My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’m 17 years old, and my favorite color is pink. I’m the daughter of the best bakers in Paris, though I might be a little bias. Before I became Ladybug, I was a normal girl, with a normal life. What made me extraordinary, was my willingness to help others, and my kindness. So Paris, I have a favor to ask:

“Be helpful and kind. Go out of your way do something nice for someone once a day. If you can do this for me, then I know Paris will be safe until we return.”

This is Ladybug’s favor to us, and it’s the least we can do.

More info to come.

Alya out.

#miraculous ladybug #ml #longest night #fanfiction #ladybug #chat noir #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #chloe bourgeois #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #adrinette

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sign-from-god-complex · 6 years ago

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A Gift From Me To You - Epilogue

Chapter Summary: They were ridiculously domestic, and Patton wouldn’t have them any other way.

Warnings: There’s purely theoretical talk of suicide and major character death (of like, old age) that aren’t actually happening in the story.

A/N: And that’s all he wrote, folks! Thank you so much to all of y’all who’ve followed along with this story and left nice comments (and I do read every tag on all of my writing), it really means the world to me. I’ve put,,, A Lot of effort into this fic and I’m pretty proud of how it’s turned out, all things considered.

I truly hope you’ve all enjoyed it.

AO3 Link // Link to Chapter One! // And Two! // And Three! // And Four! // And Five! // And Six! // And Seven! // And Eight!

————————————————

Our final act opens on an apartment located in the centre of town.

It’s a cozy little apartment, collections of pillows and blankets gathered on couches and trinkets covering every surface—a result of the hoarding tendencies of a few of the occupants. The blinds of the outside windows were pulled open, letting the late morning sunlight stream into the living room and illuminating the slightly hectic scene before us.

Patton was curled up in the armchair, watching Roman rush to and fro as he frantically searched for his keys.

He’d basically been at that all morning, having been tricked into sleepy early morning cuddles with Virgil—the way the three of them often seemed to on days they had commitments—and falling behind in his morning routine. Patton wasn’t entirely sure whether it was a coincidence or whether their boyfriend knew they had to get up and be productive but on those days he just seemed considerably more alluring.

Said Virgil glanced up from his phone, disturbing Logan who was resting against his shoulder despite how small the movement was.

“Have you checked the fridge?”

Roman stopped in the middle of rifling through the cupboard near the front door, turning to give his boyfriend a disbelieving look. “The fridge?”

“I dunno,” Virgil shrugged, returning to disinterestedly scrolling through his phone, “That’s usually where my lost stuff ends up. I have a theory that one of us is sleepwalking and moving our shit.”

“Language, Virgil!” Patton chastised.

Virgil muttered through his apologies as Roman rushed into the kitchen. Patton just hoped they hadn’t left any knives out on the counter because at the speed Roman was moving there’s no telling what could happen—they didn’t want a repeat of last year’s Thanksgiving.

After just a moment a triumphant cry was heard, Roman running his way back into the room, his eyes bright. He stopped off at the couch, swooping down to plant a kiss on Virgil’s cheek and delighting at the way his boyfriend immediately began to blush, before looping back around to grab his bag from the hook by the door.

“They were in the fridge! Thank you, my emo nightmare!”

“Yeah, whatever. I wouldn’t even need to suggest it if our shh—” Virgil caught Patton’s mouth tighten out of the corner of his eye. “—hhhtuff didn’t end up in the fridge in the first place.”

The way he said it was slightly accusing, but not in a malicious way, just in a way that indicated that he was tired of having to defrost his belongings every morning.

“Talk to Dr Picani about it at your next appointment,” Logan mumbled. He stretched against Virgil’s side, stifling a yawn. “The onset of sleepwalking could have a psychological basis if it’s not something any of us had previously experienced.”

It was one of Logan’s regulated days off—implemented to ensure that he didn’t overwork himself—so he’d apparently decided to protest by working through the entire evening instead. The three of them had already berated him for that earlier this morning. Now, they were simply trying to convince him to take a nap, though Patton imagined it was hard to stay asleep with Roman buzzing about like a suburban housewife before a dinner party.

“Oh!” Roman exclaimed, “Speaking of Dr Picani, I should head off soon or I’m going to be late. Do any of you need anything while I’m there?”

Logan blinked sleepily and Patton had to fight to not coo at how cute his boyfriend was when he was half-awake. “I… believe I may have left my coat at my last appointment, would you be able to-”

“No problem, specs.”

“Excellent.” Logan evidently decided to take that as the end of his portion of the conversation, as he dropped his head into Virgil’s lap, humming softly as Virgil instinctively went to run a hand through it.

“How about you, Virge?” Roman asked, rocking back and forth on his heels slightly.

“Nah, I’m good. Though—” Virgil looked up from his phone to properly address his boyfriend—“I’ve invited Remy over tonight so if you can pick up some snacks on your way home that’d be cool.”

Roman rolled his eyes with far more intensity than was probably necessary. “Ugh! That asshole?”

“Funny,” Virgil smirked, giving Roman a knowing look, “I distinctly remember someone calling them a "cool dude" the first time we met.”

“Well, that was before I got to know them!”

Virgil studied him for a second, eyes narrowed yet amused. “…You’re still salty that we kicked your ass at Mario Kart, aren’t you?”

A grin broke out on Virgil’s face at the immediate protests from Roman and Logan in the form of both spluttering and a long-winded rant which seemed to only contain a lot of useless excuses—a favourite of Logan’s. It was… ridiculously domestic, and Patton would not have had it any other way.

They still didn’t really understand how or why their soulmarks had developed—Logan had done a lot of research, including discussions with university professors and “soulmark experts” but to no avail, they just hadn’t been able to get a definitive answer. Patton, however, had his own theory.

Things had needed to happen this way and the universe had simply recognised that.

Love is a journey, something you learn to give throughout your life, especially when you’re set to undergo as many challenges as the four of them had. Patton isn’t sure how he feels about fate but he knows in his heart that things would have been… different if they had developed their soulmarks when they were supposed to.

And he was right.

Logan had needed to wait. He’d needed time to develop feelings before his soulmark appeared, needed it to be clear he was the one in control of his own destiny.

There were a billion ways Logan’s story could have ended, but the worst were the ones where he died cold and alone, regretting with every inch of his decaying form that he hadn’t spent more time caring for others. The pursuit of knowledge was all well and good, but it’s little comfort when relaxing into the cold embrace of death.

He would wish for someone to be there with him—someone with a soft, warm smile and compassionate words, someone with large and excitable gestures, ready to tell him a story to soothe his mind, someone soft and quiet, eyes filled with tears and silent acceptance. He would lay there wishing for people who would make him feel loved and fulfilled until he felt finally nothing at all.

There’s no way to know for sure that what he had been given was the best outcome, but there was also no way to know that it wasn’t.

Roman had also needed to wait.

He’d needed to learn that he was a person, first and foremost. He was not one half of a whole, he was a unique individual who may be made better by being in a partnership, but had an intrinsic worth of his own—he may not have quite reached that point by the time he’d met his soulmates, but he’d made a start, and it was enough.

Had Roman developed a soulmark when he was a child the way he “should have” he would have spent his whole relationship basing his self-worth on the love he received from his partners. Fights would have been a nightmare for him, making him feel worthless and unlovable. He would have stormed out a million times, he would have sobbed to himself to sleep, unable to confront the others about the way his heart broke with each criticism and how deep his depression and insecurities actually ran.

In some universes that was all Roman could handle. And they never recovered.

Patton had needed to wait. He’d needed a chance to develop the optimistic outlook that he had, a unique perspective comprised of years of contemplation and familial love.

Not having a soulmark had given him something that had not only altered his view of the world but those around him's too. Patton’s intense empathy and care for others was an integral part of his character, it did not vary too much throughout his different stories, but his success rate did.

Patton had saved people’s lives. Whether this was something he was aware of remained to be seen, however, it was unfortunately not always the case. Sometimes Patton failed—even in the universe that played out, Patton had failed—but his outlook gave him a weapon. It gave him a fighting chance at convincing people to stay, to convince them that they are more than a soulbond—they are a human being.

Sometimes he gave too much of himself away, but he here had the others to keep him grounded and safe.

And lastly, Virgil had needed to wait. Much like Roman, he'd needed a chance to develop a sense of self-worth, but instead of separate from those who may be close to him, separate from societal norms.

Virgil grew up knowing what soulmates were supposed to be like. He grew up knowing the responsibility and the expectations that came with it, hearing all those beautiful love stories of people dying for their soulmates, thinking that’s what you were supposed to do. But now he knew better.

Due to not having a soulmark, Virgil had been removed from the situation. None of those expectations had been placed on him, and he’d come to learn that although rejection is terrifying and people can be cruel, he was allowed to want things for himself. He was allowed to establish boundaries and he was not at the whim of anybody but himself.

Gaining a soulmark when he was a child would have caused Virgil to push himself far beyond what he was ever comfortable with. And Roman—desperately seeking any kind of attention—would have taken and taken and taken without knowing how much it was weighing on Virgil, without ever recognising how drained and miserable his boyfriend had become.

He would’ve found it hard to be happy in his relationship and he would hate himself for feeling that way because they’re his soulmates. He’s supposed to give them everything he has! Even if he’s feeling like he’s running out of things to give.

But none of that happened.

All the ways the events of this story could have played out were not how they played out. The universe knew they had to wait… and so they'd waited.

Their soulmark, though not representing a significant moment in their lives the way they often did, was far from chosen at random—Asters represent love and patience, and after all, the four of them had certainly gained that.

Patton may not know the specifics, but he knew in his heart that the way things had gone resulted in the best possible outcome for all of them. The story may be unconventional, sure, but it was theirs. And he was so incredibly grateful that he got to be a part of it.

“Patton?”

The sound of his name broke Patton free from his thoughts. He jerked his head up from where his gaze had been trailing slow swirls on the carpet, a soft, “Hmm?” pulled from his throat almost instinctively.

Roman was looking at him, head tilted and mild concern painting his features, as Patton belatedly realised he’d been asked a question. Darn.

“I asked if you needed anything while I was with…” Roman trailed off, eyes flickering over his boyfriend’s face as if searching for something. “Are you alright?”

Both of the others were also looking over now, though Logan’s eyes were half closed as he was still partly in the clutches of sleep. Virgil had even placed his phone down, his expression clearly worried, and Patton couldn’t fight the impulse to just soothe their unease.

“Oh! Um, of course, I am!” he answered quickly, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Virgil threw him a disapproving look. Virgil was—Patton might say unfortunately, but he knows he that he shouldn’t—very good at seeing through his lies, so bottling things up wasn’t really an option anymore. Of course, he knows it’s good for his mental health in the long run, but it certainly doesn’t make things easy for him.

“Patton…”

He winced. “Right, right, not hiding my feelings, I know. It’s just-”

He could feel tears building up behind his eyes, threatening to spill out, and Roman strode quickly across the living room floor to kneel in front of him. Taking Patton’s hands gently into his own, Roman pressed a kiss to his palm, pulling them close to his chest and Patton had to bite at his lip to stop from bursting into tears immediately.

“Sweetheart, what is it?” His voice was sweet and understanding and Patton was so full of love for them all that it was overwhelming. “Is something wrong?”

“No! It’s just…” Patton inhaled shakily, eyes scanning over to Virgil and Logan sitting on the couch. Logan had clearly decided this was something worth sitting up for, though he was still leaning against Virgil, who was leaning back into him in turn.

It was sweet just how cuddly Logan got when he was sleepy. Previously, Patton had only had the pleasure of knowing Roman’s level of affection—which was A Lot, All the Time, Yes Please and Thank You—but now he knew Logan’s gentle guiding touches, Virgil’s absentminded petting, the way that sleep made both of them incredibly clingy.

He knew the way Virgil would seek him out after a long day to lie with his head in Patton’s lap, listening to Patton babble on and on to keep his mind off of things. He knew the way Logan would melt if Patton wrapped his arms around him when Logan was working at his desk, all the stress and tension disappearing in the warmth of his touch. He knew how Roman would swirl patterns into his skin as they laid in bed, trying to drift off, never quite settling until all three of them had finally curled up beside him.

He dropped his eyes down to Roman’s chest where his hands were still held, shaking his head slightly in disbelief because this is something he gets to have.

Gods, he was so lucky.

“...You’re all so perfect, you know that?” He looked to meet their slightly stunned expressions, his eyes crinkling at the corners as more tears gathered. “And I love you so, so much.”

The admission prompted a soft, quiet smile to appear on Roman’s face—it was a smile reserved solely for the three of them and it made Patton’s chest lift as tears began to fall. Roman reached out, wiping them away as they made their appearances, pressing lightly against his skin.

“Jeez, Pat, you make it sound like you’re dying,” Virgil joked, but the fond look in his eyes gave him away—he was a sap at heart, even if he’d never admit it.

Patton laughed wetly. “No, no, I’m not dying. ‘m just happy.”

“Well, we love you too, sweetheart.”

Roman leant up to press a kiss to his cheek and Patton felt himself flush slightly at the contact—casual affection was the way to his heart and they all knew it. He did love big displays—it was very sweet when his boyfriends (usually Roman) went to all that effort—but the soft, little everyday things definitely meant a lot to him.

“Of course, we do.” Logan shifted around on the couch, barely stifling a yawn.

Virgil wrapped his arm around Logan’s shoulders, softening as his boyfriend burrowed further into him before gesturing for Patton to move towards them. “Come ‘ere, babe. We demand cuddles.”

Patton giggled, retrieving his hands from Roman and pulling himself up out of the chair. They were all well aware that he could never turn down cuddles. He flopped himself down next to them, seeing the way Logan immediately adjusted to the change, managing somehow to commandeer Patton’s arm and chest as well as Virgil’s in some sort of twisted up human pretzel of a cuddle pile.

Roman had stood up as Patton had and appeared as if he were about to join them, but was stopped abruptly by Logan’s muffled voice.

“Roman. Appointment.”

Roman’s eyes widened, inhaling sharply in alarm. “Ah, shoot. I’m definitely going to be late. What’s the time?”

Virgil, having decided to give himself up to the cuddling, only muttered something incoherently, so Patton grabbed his own phone out of his pocket, trying his best not to jostle the half-asleep Logan.

“Oh!” Patton lit up as his screen turned on, displaying the time. “11:11! Make a wish!”

Two-thirds of the cuddle pile groaned, with interspersed muttering from Logan about how wishes were illogical and how 11:11 is a no more significant time than any other. For just a moment, though, the apartment fell silent, and Patton knew despite their protests they were wishing still.

And then it passed, Roman startling them out of the quiet with a goodbye, a chaste forehead kiss for each of them—though he couldn’t quite reach Logan’s forehead in the position he was in and had to settle for the top of his head instead—and a slam of the door.

Patton grabbed the remote to switch on the TV, trying to find something to occupy himself until he had to start lunch. Virgil eventually picked his phone back up, sending memes to Roman for him to see after his appointment just in case things got too emotional. Logan, surrounded by the warmth of his boyfriends, finally managed to fall asleep for a short duration, though he was abruptly awoken 20 minutes later by Remy’s arrival.

Patton was always adamant that if you say your wish aloud it won’t come true. As such, the four of them had no way of knowing that at that moment each of them had wished for the same thing—the one thing that they could think to want for.

Logan, vulnerable for the first time in his life, relishing in the way it felt to open up knowing you’re only going to receive love and care in return, knowing that he was safe.

Virgil, comfortable and accepted and far happier than he’d ever thought he could be, aware that finally he’d found his place—somewhere he didn’t have to worry.

Roman, experiencing the security of having people who adored him, making an effort to understand just how wonderful he truly was and how many good things he deserved.

Patton surrounded by all the love he’d ever wanted, feeling bright and hopeful for the rest of their lives together, feeling like he was finally living up to all those expectations he’d put on himself.

All of them, with their eyes shut and their hearts full, had wished only for this happiness to last.

So the universe smiled and gave them all one last gift.

————————————————

Tag list <333 : @bunny222 @jadedfantasies231 @221b-quote @reinefandoms @i-really-dig-the-purple @bionic-egypt @not-so-innocent-bi-sander @mistress-jinx09 @soijusthavetoask @marshmallow-the-panda @the-writersblock @theunoriginaldaisy @therubyjailcell @sandersfandersblog @hghrules @that-smol-tired-gay @sanders-sides-stuff @inan-sanders @frogdog145 @follow-pheonix-inside @forestwulf @coloursintheblur @cosmic-melodies

General tag list: @mutechild @super-magical-wizard @shadowsfromthesun

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #lamp/calm #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #lo can write #and we're done babey!!!!!!!#(and your scheduled reminder to please please reblog content)#(I know I'm whiny but you have no idea how important it is)

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katwriting · 6 years ago

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Fic: Sound of your Heart

celebrity AU // chapter 1

When Magnus Bane returns to his favorite coffee shop after weeks of being out of town, he doesn't expect that place to be more packed than usual. He also doesn't expect sharing a table with a stranger and actually having a good time. And most importantly, he doesn't expect that stranger to be surprisingly funny, interesting and kind. But if Magnus learned one thing over the years, it's that life doesn't exactly ask for your opinion.

Word count: 2.7k | Read on AO3 (or continue reading below)

“Thank you, New York City! You guys were amazing, goodnight!”

Turning his back to the roaring crowd, Magnus walked off the stage, pulling out his earpiece as he walked down the steps. Someone handed him a bottle of water, which he gulped down in a matter of seconds before wiping a towel over his sweat drenched face.

Another show done. The first of two at Madison Square Garden, both sold out. And the second-to-last one before his well-deserved break. As Magnus walked through the backstage hallways back to his wardrobe, past posters that of upcoming concerts at this venue and several ones that announced his own two New York shows, he shook his head and couldn’t suppress a smile. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe how fast things had progressed ever since that fateful day about two years ago. How his career had basically sky-rocketed from working as a barista at a café and singing at weddings or company holiday parties to selling out Madison Square Garden two nights in a row.

The two reasons for that unreal twist in his life were already waiting in his dressing room when he got back. Magnus barely had the chance to drop his towel into the hamper in the corner when he was already enveloped in a warm, familiar hug and a kiss was dropped on his cheek, despite his sweaty, slightly disheveled state.

“Magnus Bane, rock star. Look at you,” Catarina said when she let go of him, still holding him at arm’s length and beaming. “Your mother would be so proud.”

Magnus smiled at her and tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. Instead, he looked at the second person that had been waiting in the dressing room, who was just getting up from the chair he’d made himself comfortable in. “And what’s your verdict, Ragnor?”

“The show was sold out, the crowd adored you as usual and I’m pretty sure the press will as well,” Ragnor replied, his British accent as heavy as ever. He shrugged and slipped his phone into his back pocket. “I suppose you did alright.”

Magnus grinned and then only too happily accepted a hug from Ragnor as well. As disinterested the reply may have sounded, it was hard to ignore the pride in Ragnor's eyes as he looked at Magnus, trying his best to remain as unfazed as possible.

Ragnor Fell and Catarina Loss were a married couple of almost ten years and had been ruling the New York music business for just as long. Their record company, Downworld Records, had the most popular artists of the city signed; every time Magnus attempted to count the Grammies, Oscars and Golden Globes those artists had won in total, he ended up with a headache.

Magnus would have never dreamed of getting to know them, let alone signing for their label. But ever since he had, things in his life had taken a U-Turn in the best possible way. With the help of those two heavyweights in the music business he had soon turned from flamboyant, outgoing barista-turned-singer to record-breaking superstar and taken the music world by storm. Magnus couldn't possibly more grateful for their help and support over the years.

With a sigh, Magnus dropped on the couch that Ragnor had just stood up from, grabbing another bottle of water. “So, now that we have the business talk covered, let’s get to the essential stuff,” he said, then took another sip of water. “How’s Chairman?”

Apart from being the most amazing managers that Magnus could have ever dreamed of, Ragnor and Catarina also came with another pretty useful feature: Whenever Magnus went abroad, they took care of his one and only child, a tabby cat called Chairman Meow. When Magnus went on tour or had promo appointments left and right, he left Chairman with the two of them, knowing that he would get his darling kitty back happy and well (and likely a little more overweight than usual).

When he’d taken Chairman to his usual check-up after his world tour last year, the vet hat told him to feed Chairman less, which Magnus had just internally scoffed at. No pet of his would ever be overweight, Chairman was just a little…small for his weight, but fabulously so.

“Oh, he’s great,” Catarina retorted. “Last week when I wasn’t looking, he ate half of the tuna that I wanted to make for dinner.” “- and threw up all over our living room carpet half an hour later,” Ragnor threw in.

Magnus snorted. ��Sounds like my son.”

Ragnor rolled his eyes, but smirked. “Damn right he is. That cat is just as extra as you are.”

Magnus just shrugged, getting up again and heading towards the showers. “What can I say, I raised him well.”

+++

Two days later, after sleeping for 12 hours straight and spending an hour in the bathroom to make sure that he didn’t totally like a zombie, Magnus set foot in his favorite place in the world besides the balcony in Catarina’s apartment: Pandemonium, the café he’d worked at before his music career had taken off. The tiny café was wedged in between a Chinese restaurant and a thrift store and there were maybe twenty tables but still, Magnus loved going there. He’d spent many hours there – working, writing songs, trying to make decisions, or simply taking a break from real life. Besides, the place sold the best coffee in Brooklyn, if not even entire New York. And since it was so tiny and kind of an insider tip, he didn’t risk running into fans, reporters or other people who could recognize him there.

Magnus hadn’t been to Pandemonium for a few months now as he had been on tour, but as soon as he stepped through the narrow door and into the cozy atmosphere, he felt himself relax. The off-white brick walls, the many different chairs and couches, none like the other, the scent of freshly roasted coffee beans and the music playing in the background never failed to make him feel like home.

What did, however, very much disturb that feeling of coming home was his first look around the room. More importantly, the realization that the entire place was packed with people. There were young parents trying their best to keep their kids from spilling their coffee, business people typing away on their laptops, their drinks all but forgotten – and then what seemed like a hoard of college kids, taking up the rest of the room.

Magnus sighed. As much as he loved this place for its cozy atmosphere, the limited number of tables and seats did pose as a problem whenever he came here on a particularly busy day.

Nevertheless, he headed for the counter and ordered his coffee to go, already halfway expecting he would have to drink it on the go somewhere. Or alternatively in his own living room under the skeptical gaze that the Chairman seemed to reserve for whenever Magnus went out and didn’t come back with food or at least a treat for his cat.

Thankfully, at least the line at the counter wasn’t all that long so it didn’t take much time for the baristas to make his drink. Paper cup in hand, Magnus turned away from the cash desk, stuffed his wallet back into the inside pocket of his jacket and then scanned the room one more time, hoping against hope that the few minutes he had spent waiting for his coffee would have been enough for an empty table to appear somewhere – or at least one of the several college kids to realize that the Wi-Fi in this place was crappy for a reason and leave. And indeed, just as he scanned the room one last time, a couple who had been sitting at a tiny table in the far corner across the room rose from their seats, took their empty cups and turned to leave.

Bingo.

With quick, resolute steps Magnus navigated his way through the maze of furniture, laptop chargers, messenger bags and brief cases on the floor towards the now empty table and managed to snatch a seat, effectively cutting off two women’s way who had been walking towards the same table. With an (entirely fake) apologetic smile he sat down on one of the chairs and placed his cup on the table, then grabbed the magazine he had been carrying with him and tried to blend out the noise around him.

It worked surprisingly well for a while, despite the buzzing noise around him. He was halfway through a quite interesting piece about an up and coming local fashion designer, when a voice dragged his attention away and back to the real world.

“Excuse me?”

Suppressing a defeated sigh, Magnus put his magazine aside and looked up, already expecting to be met with the expectant and excited face of one of someone who had recognized him and was about to ask for a photo or an autograph. Instead, he looked into hazel eyes, hidden behind thinly framed glasses. They belonged to a guy that seemed to be in his twenties, maybe a few years younger than Magnus. He was wearing dark blue jeans and a white t-shirt underneath a well-worn leather jacket and had a dark brown messenger back slung across his shoulder.

“Can I sit here?” the stranger said, looking around as if he was checking if an empty seat had appeared somewhere, but then shrugged.

"Uh…sure,” Magnus replied, a little taken aback. He uncrossed his legs so the stranger would have some space and took his magazine off the table, making room for his new seat neighbor’s coffee.

The stranger took a seat and placed his mug on the tiny table between them. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t normally do this. But this was literally the only free seat so…"

He shrugged, as if it the entire issue explained itself, and put his messenger bag down on the floor.

“It’s no problem. Actually, I haven't been here in a while. When did this place become so crowded? This used to be an insider tip," Magnus pondered and let his gaze roam through the room once more. Now that the guy sitting across from him had taken up the last empty seat, there was literally no space left.

Alec followed his gaze, then shrugged. “Honestly, I have no idea. I come here every few weeks when I'm in the neighborhood, and I didn't notice anything changing. I guess at some point some of those hipster college kids must have discovered the place and made it their most recent Instagram-worthy coffee place or something."

Magnus huffed out a laugh. From the looks of it, those hipster college kids must have told a bunch of their friends too. “Must have been something like that. Last time I was here, there was maybe one seat taken, not just one empty."

“I know, right?", Alec huffed. "I mean, I’m sure they’re all great kids, but the point of me coming to this particular place was so I can enjoy my lunch break in peace. Not in the company of seventeen thousand undergrads,” the stranger grumbled, packing his laptop back into his bag and pulling out a notebook instead.

This time, Magnus genuinely laughed. “I’ll drink to that.” He picked up his cup and jokingly raised it in his neighbor's direction. He took a sip and then placed the cup on the table again. “I’m Magnus, by the way,” he added, holding out his hand a little awkwardly as the stranger was currently focused on a folder he had taken out of his bag.

Clearly startled, the guy looked up from his notes. “Huh? Oh…yeah, hi. I’m Alec,” he said, quickly taking Magnus’ hand and shaking it, almost knocking over his coffee in the process.

Magnus smirked. “Nice to meet you, Alec.”

He was just about to ask Alec what job he was working that his lunch break had led him to a tiny coffee place in Brooklyn, when a woman who had been sitting a few tables over got up and left. Alec picked up on that, watched her leave and then turned back towards Magnus, frowning.

"I should probably…you know," Alec said, gesturing towards the now unoccupied table across the room.

“Oh, don’t bother. I could use some company.”

A surprised smirk ran over Alec's features. "Okay."

Over the course of the next half hour or so, Magnus learned that breaking with his habits from time to time wasn't that bad of an idea. Alec turned out to be quite decent company. He was more on the introverted side, a lot more reserved than Magnus, that much Magnus could tell. But when he did say something, it was either funny, smart beyond his ears or sarcastic to a T. From crowded coffee shops and the general unpleasantness of undergrad students their conversation soon moved on to more personal topics. Magnus learned that Alec worked in his parents’ publishing company and was being groomed to take over as CEO one day, which he described as rewarding but also quite challenging from time to time. Magnus, in return, told him some of the stories he always told people when they asked him to tell them a little about himself – how he’d always been fascinated by music, how Queen had been his favorite band when he was a kid and Freddie Mercury still was one of his biggest idols, whether it came to music or life in general.

Lucky for Magnus, their conversation always shifted to a different topic before they could get to what he did for a living. That was, until Alec straightforward asked.

“You said you like music a lot. Do you work in music as well?”

Internally, Magnus let out a bunch of curses, most of which Catarina would have murdered him for in cold blood if he ever used them in public. Externally, he resolved to something a little less scandal-inducing. Smirking to cover up the shock on his face, he took a sip from his coffee which was barely more than lukewarm at that point but perfectly served as a measure to buy him some time. Time that he used to think and come up with a perfectly fine explanation.

“I do, actually,” he said, “I work for a record label here in New York. It's called Downworld Records."

Technically, that wasn’t even a lie – he did have a contract with Cat and Ragnor's label after all. Besides, not telling strangers everything about himself right away was not lying, right? It was just being responsible, thank you very much. However, considering Alec’s reaction, Magnus might as well have told him the whole truth straight away.

Alec nodded, but other than that seemed pretty unfazed by Magnus’ reply. “Never heard of it. But I don’t really listen to a lot of music and at work we focus on books, so I guess that’s no surprise.”

Magnus blinked. “You don’t?”

Alec shook his head and grabbed his own mug. “Not really. I mean, I do like instrumental pieces or some classic rock if the mood strikes. But other than that, I guess I prefer books to records.”

Magnus smirked and relaxed back into his seat. “Instrumental stuff and classic rock, huh? Well aren’t you something else, Alec.”

Their conversation then shifted to less potentially cover-blowing topics for Magnus. They kept on talking for another while, until Magnus excused himself to the bathroom. When he returned, ready to hear more about that hilarious story of Alec's siblings, he startled, then did a double take just to be sure he hadn't walked to the wrong table. But he hadn't – Alec was no longer there. Alec's jacket and bag were gone and their table abandoned, save for a slip of paper tucked under the half-finished cappuccino Magnus had gotten only a few minutes ago. When Magnus picked up the little note, he found just a few words scribbled onto it in a barely readable handwriting.

Emergency call, had to run. Was good chatting with you, I really enjoyed having some company. A.

Magnus turned the sheet around, feeling a little disappointed when he found it empty. He sighed. “Me too, Alec. What a shame that you didn’t leave me your number.”

Smirking, he put the sheet into his bag, then picked up his stuff and headed towards the exit. The little break at the café had been undoubtedly fun, but now he had a cat to get home to.

#malec #malec fic #malec fanfiction #shadowhunters #shadowhunters fic #shadowhunters fanfic #multi-chaptered #celebrity au #magnus bane #alec lightwood #katwriting

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paradisobound · 6 years ago

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I Want It, I Got It: Chapter 1

Summary: Phil Lester was a worker for the BBC in London. Working in the advertising department, he was content being alongside his friend and fellow coworker PJ during every shift. However, the BBC is temporarily being used as a film set for a new movie staring Hollywood ‘It’ star, Daniel Howell. Being stuck as an extra on the set, Phil finds it’s hard to ignore the famous star. And maybe, just maybe, Dan finds it hard to ignore Phil as well.

Word Count: 1.8k (this chapter)

Warnings: Occasional swearing

Rating: Mature (for right now)

A/N: Ahh look at me. Starting another chaptered fic. Remember how I said a while ago that I hoped to have a fic to begin posting by Valentines Day? Well, this isn’t the fic. But I’ll take it lol I know I have a very bad track record lately of completing what I’ve started but I have 10k written on this fic already so I’m set for the next like five weeks which gives me plenty of time to finish the fic! Every one when I asked wanted this fic and I’m so glad because I’ve really grown to fall in love with it!

As always: I’m not an expert, nor a movie star or anything, so I’m not saying any of this accurate. I just thought this might be how it goes. But I hope you all enjoy it anyway! Happy reading!

Updates will be every Sunday at 1pm EST until I have the fic finished and then it’ll be twice weekly

**Masterlist | Read on Ao3**

“Dear Workers,

The BBC Studio will be closed for the next week to accommodate the filming of a new featured film starring Daniel Howell and Mimei Lake. During this time, you will have to work from home on any projects you may be in the middle of. A select few of you will be asked to work on the set as extras for the film. We’ll email those we selected by the end of tomorrow.

Hope this isn’t a hassle and apologies for any inconveniences.

Corporate”

****

“Did you read the new email?” Phil turned his head to his friend PJ sitting next to him in their office. “They’re actually closing down the whole building just to film a few scenes for one movie.”

Phil, coffee in hand and his laptop open to said same email, sighed. “It’s a Daniel Howell movie. Of course they’re shutting down the entire building.”

PJ rolled his eyes. Everyone knew of Daniel Howell. He was only the biggest actor in Hollywood right now. But that didn’t mean that everyone shared in on the fangirling when it came to his name being mentioned. “The BBC is gonna be untouchable all next week. I don’t even wanna know how many girls and guys are going to flock here to meet him.”

“He doesn’t do photos and autographs though?” Phil brought up, setting his mug on the table and shutting his laptop down. His work was nearly done anyway for the day.

“Still never stops the fans.” PJ says, tipping his head. “He’ll mention he’s in London on his Instagram or Twitter and then it’ll be over.”

Phil nodded. Yeah, that sounds pretty much correct. “Fair enough.”

“Who do you think they selected to work on set?” PJ asked. “I reckon they chose some of the interns because that they don’t have to pay them.”

“I hope it’s not me.” Phil says immediately. “God, the less I have to be here during this time, the better.”

“It’s gonna be impossible to even get here.” PJ adds. “They’re gonna block off all of the streets to accommodate Daniel’s massive trailer that he lugs everywhere.”

“I don’t even want to imagine.” Phil says. “I’d much rather just stay in my flat with Spike and work on my laptop.”

PJ nodded in agreement.

Just as PJ began to speak again, the door to their office opened and their coworker Gemma walked in, her expression giddy and a smile plastered on her lips. “Did you two see the email?”

Both PJ and Phil nodded.

“How are you both not more excited about this?” Gemma exclaimed. “Daniel freaking Howell is gonna be walking around our building! He could sit in your chair right now. Or use my office as a set. Or—”

“He’s just another person.” Phil interrupted her.

“But he’s not though!” Gemma shot back with a smile. “Oh, you two don’t get it.” She waved her hand and walked further into the office. She pulled out a chair at the desk next to Phil and plopped down.

“There isn’t much to get.” PJ countered. “He’s just a bloke who happens to be good looking and also a major celebrity.”

“So you do get it!” Gemma pointed out. “I really hope I’m one of the ones corporate selected to work on set as an extra. I would give anything to stand in the same room as Daniel Howell.”

“They’re probably just going to choose interns.” Phil says. “I doubt they’ll choose any of their paid employees.”

“I wonder if I email corporate if they’ll bump my name on the list and I can do it.”

Pj shrugged and tapped his pen against his forehead. “Doesn’t hurt if you really want to do it.”

“I’m steering clear of this building while he’s here.” Phil comments, picking up his now ice cold coffee mug and taking a sip, cringing at the taste of it.

“What do you have against Daniel Howell?” Gemma asks, folding her arms over her chest.

“He’s just another celebrity.” Phil says. “He’s pretentious and rude.”

“You don’t know that.”

Phil rolled his eyes. “It’s common knowledge.”

“What? That every celebrity is a dick?” Gemma asked, her voice clearly laced with tension. “Isn’t that a bit shallow minded?”

Phil shrugged. “Change my mind but until then, I’m gonna stand by it. I doubt any celebrity like Daniel Howell is down to Earth.”

Gemma scoffed. “Well, I for one think that it would be brilliant to work alongside him.”

Phil chuckled and took another sip of his cold coffee. He definitely didn’t want to work alongside Daniel Howell but he had to admit that it was endearing to see Gemma swooning over the actor.

Once Gemma left, Phil began to pick up his things and prepare to go home for the night. He stuffed his laptop in his backpack and then through in some of the folders he needed to complete the advertising project he was assigned to do for the BBC Radio 1 show.

He and PJ left the BBC at the same time and headed to the tube to go back to their flats. They lived in opposite areas of London but they saw each other often outside of work.

When Phil got to his flat and he opened the door with his key, he was immediately greeted by the excited yips of his puppy Spike. He was a ten month old Corgi that Phil adopted as a puppy. Spike kept him busy and less-lonely on nights where he wished he wasn’t thirty one and hopelessly single.

He bent down and scratched Spike’s belly as he rolled around on his carpet from excitement. Phil eventually stopped petting Spike long enough to go to the kitchen and check his food bowl and water. He knew his brother came over sometimes to let out Spike while he was at work so he sometimes fills up his food and water.

Today was one of those days. His food bowl was heaping over and his water was clean and clear. Martyn just came over not that long ago then. He made a mental note to text Martyn but in the mean time, he called Spike over to his door that lead to the courtyard and hooked a leash on his collar to take him outside one more time for good measure.

After being done, Phil let Spike go back into the flat. He immediately ran over and flopped onto his bed next to the couch and closed his eyes to take a nap. Phil sat down on the couch and looked over his phone, catching up on any notifications he might have missed while he was on his way home.

He saw a notification for an email and he sighed. It was probably some junk mail that some store was sending him. He got them a lot from Topman but to be fair, that’s where his entire wardrobe comes from.

He unlocked his phone and clicked on the email notification and waited to load it up. Once it did, he felt all breath leave his chest.

“To: Philip M. Lester.

Good Evening! If you have seen our emails from this morning you would have seen that the BBC will be closed for the filming of a feature film. Effectively 15th of January at 10pm until 9am on 25th of January, the BBC offices and building will be closed for filming.

However, after careful consideration, we would appreciate your help at the BBC during filming as a film extra. You should report to the BBC by half past 7 on the 15th of January.

If you have any question, email us back. This is part of your scheduled job and you will need to report when assigned.

Corporate”

Phil laid down on the couch and groaned.

Of course his luck would have it this way. Of fucking course this would happen.

***

“So we both got stuck coming didn’t we?”

Phil looked at PJ, his eyes still blurry from having to wake up so early. He didn’t even bother to put his contacts in today, he just threw on his glasses and said forget it.

“Guess so.” Phil says, standing beside PJ on the tube. Their stop was the next one. In the morning, they always ended up on the same tube before they got to the BBC. “This is going to be a disaster.”

“It already is.” PJ answers. “Did you go on Twitter this morning?”

Phil shook his head and pulled his phone out of his pocket. But he should have known he wouldn’t have any service while on the underground.

“It was a Twitter moment that Daniel Howell was spotted in London about to begin filming. He also tweeted, in true form, that he was going to be in London for a few weeks.”

“Oh great.” Phil said, rolling his eyes. “So what you mean is that the BBC is gonna be like impenetrable force?”

“Yep.”

Phil sighed and the tube stopped, the doors opening. They stepped outside and wandered through the crowds to the exit. Once they walked out of the tube station, it was over. They saw the crowds beginning already. Hoards of teenagers and even some adults all screaming and holding signs behind a barrier of police.

“Oh my gosh.” Phil exclaimed. “This is absolute madness!”

“Well, here we go, Lad.” PJ said, hooking his arm with Phil’s and yanking him across the street to the main entrance of the BBC.

They were nearly there when they were stopped by police, asking what they were doing. As soon as they both flashed their BBC badges, they were let inside to even more madness going on.

People were running around everywhere. There were sections of the building completely taped off and there were offices on the first floor that were being blocked by people in front of the door.

They continued walking inside and were greeted by a woman with a clipboard. “Can I get your names?”

“PJ Ligouri.”

“Phil Lester.”

The woman looked over the clipboard and smiled and looked at them both. “Welcome! If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to where you need to be.”

Just as they were about to walk and follow the woman, loud cheering and screaming began behind them, just outside the building. Looking out the door, Phil could see him.

Next Chapter

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