#i have this! if you joke about having it ill beat u to death

[acescorazon]

I LOVE YOUR FIC CHANGES!!!!! I HOPE YOU UPDATE SOON!!!!!

THANK U BBYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY. ILY MUAH. I was updating like every day but then i got my period... i mean i fell into a pit of darkness and didn't have the energy to climb out. How bizarre. ANYWAYS, HERE'S YOUR FOOD.

Title: Changes Ch: 5/?

Rating: M (I'm just putting that as the rating in general for every ch lol)

Word count:2291

Warnings: Depressed clown :(

Chapter excerpt:

"Mihawk keeps asking about you," Mohji announces all of a sudden, "He keeps asking if you're okay and if your illness is something serious." Hawkeye keeps asking about him… Why? To know if he's died yet? What a joke! That man doesn't care about Buggy, why is he even wasting his breath asking about him? "I just keep telling him that you have the flu, and he's always like, 'Ah…is that so? Tell him I hope he feels better.' Isn't that…ridiculous?!" Yeah, that is rather ridiculous.  Buggy has a hard time believing that Mihawk is genuinely concerned about him, but at the same time, he can't imagine why he'd just pretend to care either. It's weird.

|Ch1|Ch2|Ch3|Ch4|

The next several days are on an endless loop for Buggy. He stays in bed all day, unwilling to come face to face with Mihawk after his little drunken rant from days prior, afraid of what Mihawk will say to him now that he's completely sober. So, he stays in bed, either sleeping or lost in thought. He should be preparing men, supplies, and their new flagship for departure, but he can't bring himself to do it. At the very least he should be making sure everything on Emptee Bluffs Island is going smoothly, and yet… he doesn't care about that either. 

Being in Cross Guild is so…exhausting.

Crocodile has called for meetings every single day, and every day, Buggy has one of his men lie and say he's sick. He's missed about 10 meetings now, he thinks. He can't remember, everything is starting to blend in together. All he knows is that sooner or later Crocodile is going to get pissed and come looking for him, and then what? Beat him up? Threaten him? Actually, kill him this time? 

Man, who cares?

Cabaji, Mohji, and Richie, often come by and sit with him, usually overly worried about Buggy's well-being and not believing him when he says he's just sick or tired, but of course, Buggy always tells them that he's fine. 

Today, they're with him again, sitting by his bed and trying to get him to eat some of the sea king the other members of the crew somehow caught and killed today. "Captain…" Mohji sighs, "Come on, at least take a couple of bites." He asks, but he sounds more like he's begging than asking. "You've hardly eaten anything these last few days." While that is very true, it's because Buggy doesn't have much of an appetite these days, nothing tastes right or really interests him, and god knows he doesn't have the energy to make his own food…just… he just wants to sleep.

Buggy sits in his bed, slightly peeved that Cabaji and Mohji insist he sit up in general, and looks down at the sea king on his plate. He's not normally a picky eater, you can't be picky when you've spent most of your life at sea, but… this thing reminds him eerily of a poison dart frog with its vibrant color and spots, yet at the same time, it's got fins and a body like a snake... He doubts his men would actually cook up something poisonous, they aren't that naive…but still, Buggy has no interest in this fish..frog…snake thing. 

But if he did die from ingesting it…that'd just be his luck, wouldn't it? Death seems… inescapable at this point, and he often wonders just what or who will end up taking his life first. "I'm not hungry," Buggy repeats, but Mohji and Cabaji seem determined today.

 

"Just take a couple of bites, please, Captain?" Mohji practically begs, "Just a couple, it's actually really good!" Doubt it, Buggy thinks. 

Cabaji follows suit, "Yeah, just take a couple of bites and if you don't like it, you don't have to eat the whole thing! We'll just feed the rest to Richie, right, Mohji?" 

"Right!" 

Buggy really doesn't want to eat anything, but he hates to make the other two worry, so he ends up taking a couple of bites of his lunch, and yeah, it isn't bad…it's one of the better-tasting sea kings that he's had, this one actually tastes like chicken despite its weird appearance, but Buggy still only eats a couple of bites, just enough to get the other two off his back and then hands Mohji his plate to give to Richie. 

He wants to lie back down, but the others won't let him. "Um, Captain?" Cabaji calls out, seemingly a little nervous, "Uh, how about I run you a warm bath and…uh, How about I help you wash and brush your hair today?" Cabaji suggests with a small grin. Oh, yeah, basic needs are a thing. Man, Buggy really doesn't care about any of that stuff anymore, he's going to die anyways, so what's the point? He'll just ask one of his men to make him look nice for his funeral. 

"Okay?" Cabaji asks, still smiling.

Buggy understands what this really is about. This is a very polite and roundabout way of telling him he needs to bathe, but none of his men would ever outright tell him he stinks so they have to use words like, 'Oh, how about I run you a bath and help you wash your hair today?' Or, 'Wow, you look like you need to relax…how about a nice bath?' 

Whatever. 

Buggy lets Cabaji run him a bath, and he sits and waits in bed while he prepares everything for him. He watches Richie eat his leftover sea king, and can't help but think how nice it'd be to be a lion, well, actually a cat. If reincarnation exists, he thinks he'd like to live a carefree life as a cat, a spoiled one too. Being a pirate isn't something he thinks he'd want to do again unless he could live a life with his old crew again, this time a happy one that isn't cut short, maybe then he'd be a pirate again... Or he could be a star in the sky, that'd be nice. 

"Mihawk keeps asking about you," Mohji announces all of a sudden, "He keeps asking if you're okay and if your illness is something serious." Hawkeye keeps asking about him… Why? To know if he's died yet? What a joke! That man doesn't care about Buggy, why is he even wasting his breath asking about him? "I just keep telling him that you have the flu, and he's always like, 'Ah…is that so? Tell him I hope he feels better.' Isn't that…ridiculous?!" Yeah, that is rather ridiculous.  Buggy has a hard time believing that Mihawk is genuinely concerned about him, but at the same time, he can't imagine why he'd just pretend to care either. It's weird.

"Crocodile has asked about you too, but only once, and when I told him you had the flu, he rolled his eyes at me and went: 'Of course that dumb clown is sick.' And then walked away! I tell ya, I don't know what the others see in those two!" Mohji frowns, "They're so mean to you! I… I think if we all banned together then we could…you know…." He whispers the next part of his sentence, "Show them who's boss."

Honestly if Buggy thought he and or his crew had a chance against Mihawk and Crocodile, then he would have had both of them taken out a long time ago, but he knows even with an army of men, he couldn't take out one of his business partners, let alone both. It's a fun thought though, "Let's not waste our time," Buggy replies, exhaling a long, shaky sigh, "Besides, it's like I told you before, I can handle those two! Do you really think I'd let them beat and bully me?!" 

Mohji just stares at him from his seat, obviously not convinced but he doesn't push the subject any further, and thank God for that.

Cabaji reappears a few moments after that, telling Buggy his bathwater is ready, and in all honesty, Buggy rather not do this, but he doesn't feel like hearing the other two complain either. He follows Cabaji into the bathroom and tells him he can at least bathe himself, and somewhere at the back of Buggy's mind he feels like he should feel more ashamed by the situation, but he doesn't. His former captain always told him that good friends don't judge you when you're at your lowest times and that they instead help you when no one else will, and so maybe that's why he has no guilt about letting Cabaji wash his hair. He'd do the same for him and then some. He and Mohji are more than just subordinates, they're friends, no, they're family, and honestly Buggy doesn't deserve either one of them. 

As he washes Buggy's hair, Cabaji also tells Buggy that Mihawk keeps asking about him. Again, Buggy finds the idea of Mihawk asking all of Buggy’s crew about his well-being almost comical. Did the world’s strongest swordsman grow a heart? Ha, as if. Or maybe Buggy’s earlier suspicions are correct, maybe Mihawk’s waiting, hoping that Buggy’s ‘flu’ will take him out and that he won’t have to deal with him anymore, which honestly seems like a more realistic explanation for everything. 

A hot bath and a nice relaxing hair wash later, and Buggy’s sitting on the small couch in his room, getting his hair brushed by Cabaji as he listens to both Mohji and Cabaji ramble on about this and that, and occasionally bicker over trivial things. It feels like his men are the only consistency in his life, but he wonders if there will be a day when even that changes. Maybe he’ll end up with so many men that their crew will seem more like an army than a family, then again maybe he won’t live to see the day when that’s actually a problem. And if that doesn’t happen, then maybe Mihawk will eventually end up replacing Buggy’s crew with a new, more efficient one that he hardly knows let alone can consider his family…who knows?

Now, as stated before, Buggy’s usual visitors consist of Mohji, Cabaji and Richie, but today Buggy finds himself getting an additional guest in his room. Sometime around late afternoon Alvida joins Buggy’s already boisterous company, and as soon as she realizes Buggy’s perfectly fine, she sighs at him,”I knew you weren’t sick.” she mutters as she has a seat on the couch next to him after Cabaji and Mohji fight over who’s spot she can take, “But oh well, you won’t believe what I just saw.” She says, grinning. 

Hopefully, she saw Crocodile and Mihawk board a ship and sail as far away from the island as possible, never to return again, but that’s just not realistic, is it? “What did you see?” Buggy asks though he’s not particularly curious about her gossip today.

“Mihawk and Crocodile were fighting.”

“Crocodile and Mihawk bicker every once in a while, so what?” 

“No, they were actually physically fighting earlier.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know but they were both heated,” Alvida claims, “I think they reached a draw, but they were fighting for a long time, half the island saw it.”

Despite claiming that he doesn’t care about either of the two, Buggy’s slightly curious about Mihawk and Crocodile’s altercation. Sure they’ve butt heads a couple of times in the past because Crocodile is so damn overbearing and of course, Mihawk doesn’t take being bossed around lightly, but they never get physical with things, it’s usually just threats of possible fights that don’t go anywhere. Maybe that was it, maybe Crocodile just got too controlling again, and Mihawk got tired of it. He did say he was tired of Crocodile’s shit the other day… Yeah, that’s got to be it…Because what else could it be???

…

A couple of more days go by after that, and Buggy’s still stuck in that same loop: Sleep. Overthink. Sleep. Overthink. Sleep. Overthink. Of course, there are brief things that break the cycle like Mohji and Cabaji checking on him and feeding him and making sure he’s being taken care of, but other than that, it’s just sleep, overthink, repeat. He just doesn’t see the point in getting out of bed every day when Mihawk and Crocodile are just going to make his life a living hell, or worse, end his miserable existence. 

Despite all his stress though, there are times when his bedroom is rather comforting, he knows that it offers him no real protection from the outside world, but in his room he feels safe and like he’s miles away from all his problems even though they’re literally just right outside. He thinks he’s missed, hm…12 meetings now, maybe 13 …14? Who knows, he’s surprised that Crocodile is even still calling for them, or that he hasn’t come barging into his room to yank him out of his bed and beat him to death for ruining his perfect schedule.

Buggy doesn’t care about Cross Guild though (or for much of anything right now) he never has and he doubts he ever will. He’s perfectly fine just keeping himself locked away in his bedroom for as long as possible. Mohji will take care of the others and if he doesn’t, then Alvida will, and if she doesn’t, then Buggy’s sure that Crocodile and Mihawk will boss his men around, but they’re strong, spirited, and oblivious, they can handle anything. 

Something breaks his seemingly endless depressive cycle by the time he’s missed 18 meetings…or was it 19?

One of his men comes into his room around midmorning, like always, and tells him that a meeting has been called… But today, Mihawk’s the one who’s called for the meeting apparently, and Buggy instantly tells his subordinate to tell Mihawk that he’s still under the weather and can’t go to the meeting, to which his subordinate replies, “He says it’s urgent, Chairman Buggy, and that if you can’t go to the meeting room, that he’ll bring the meeting here instead.”

That’s got to be the worst, no, actually, the second worst thing he’s been told in his entire life. Why? Why now? Why can’t Mihawk and Crocodile just hold their dumb meetings by themselves? It’s not like Buggy gets to make any decisions or his input matters, why does he have to leave his safe space and go see them?

((A/n: Hate how they didn't add ChouChou to the live-action or Richie. The idea that some of you might not know that Richie is a lion and you might think he's just some guy is funny though lol.))

[the-egg]

ahahdbajdjajd hcs for miguel x venom!reader (preferably fem but gn is fine i just love monster girls) tysmm u r doing gods work ❤️

Okay, so I did a little bit of research because I’ve never actually seen Venom, so I hope that this is good! Also, I’m still getting the hang of hcs so bear with me on this.

Tags: Implied smut

Word Count: 1k

===

Alright, so let's get this straight! After the end credits of No Way Home, you ended up getting infected with Venom at the bar and have been reluctantly adjusting to your new powers as a host to Venom. Except, the alien species you were infected with wasn’t from your dimension, so now you were seen as an anomaly to the universe, constantly being thrown from dimension to dimension to get you back to where you “rightfully” belong.

Miguel tried to hate you. He typically doesn’t feel very fond of any anomaly he has to deal with

But you were by far the most compliant anomaly he ever had.

You held no ill will toward the Spider Society and were more than happy to be sent back on your way in the totally humane Go Home Machine, not just once or twice, but about a dozen times or so

To Miguel, you were a breath of fresh air after all the fights he would go through just to keep the canon in place. He even made sure to take your missions personally whenever they popped up. Despite liking you, he had no idea why you were being transported to other dimensions.

The first couple of times he had to pick you up, you didn’t show any sign of being a potential threat. You were just a woman going about her day in a grocery store, or you were on your way to work. You weren’t out fighting crime in the dead of night as Venom until one day you were.

It changed everything between you and Miguel

One day you were just a normal civilian who had no shame in flirting with the tall, handsome man, and the next you were someone who could relate to him in a way other people couldn’t

He admired your capabilities, your fighting style, and your ability to stay in control of your powers

Most of all, he felt seen

You weren’t what was considered a "normal" superhero, and he wasn’t considered a normal Spider-Man

It was besties on sight

He couldn’t deny that watching you transform in and out of venom was hot as shit! The slow crawl as the black veins ran up your arms and neck was just—FUCK!

You had to admit that Miguel looked good from every angle you'd seen him

From his broad shoulders as he turns his back to you to the way he runs his hand through his hair

There were a few angles you would die to see him from, but you’d have to fuck around to see them ;)

Despite not being a part of the Spider Society, you would still occasionally help out on missions with him when he begged you

You two made a solid team. Honestly, you guys were great partners, and Miguel had no problem admitting that to you.

What he did have trouble admitting were his feelings for the woman who was strong enough to handle him mentally and physically

He’d occasionally joke with you, cracking a smile on more than one occasion, but he rarely flirted back with you

You thought that, despite being great friends, he was unattracted to the parasite you hosted

Disgusted as he watched you transform in and out of your form with big white eyes and a plethora of teeth

In reality, he thought that your form, the power that you held in your superhuman physique, was something he couldn’t keep his hands off of

Watching you switch from a woman with a gentle touch to a superhuman with a death grip was definitely not a turn-off for him

I could imagine that he would ask you out first and finally break that sexual tension building up between you two. Lyla finally beat it into him that he needed to keep one of the best people that had ever come into his life. Despite being equally attracted to him, you would only dance around the topic of romance with him. You enjoyed the chase and waited ever so patiently for him to finally stand up and cage you like he should have done when he first met you.

It went a little like this~

You had just finished tying a low-tier criminal to a lamppost when he appeared out of a portal. Heart skipping a beat, you walked over to him, still fully immersed in your "suit." Immediately, you knew something was off. He was completely vulnerable to you, as he wore a pair of slacks and a nice white button-down. You could practically hear his heartbeat racing; he was nervous. While you still didn’t know what was going on, you couldn’t help but jump right into your usual banter.

"Am I an anomaly again?"

Miguel tugged at his collar, looking away as he spoke to you

"I’m afraid I’m the anomaly this time."

"Oh no!" you feigned sympathy, but your smile gave it away. You took a step toward him and leaned in, your heart racing along with his as it caught on to what he was doing. "Do I have to send you back home?"

Hearing how pleased you were with this interaction, he smirked, leaning in as well.

Miggy boi wasn’t feeling too nervous anymore

"I was actually wondering if you’d like to go out to dinner."

Fireworks exploded inside of you as the excitement inside of you grew

You retracted venom from your head to let him see your face

Miguel had to resist biting the inside of his cheek as he watched your face come into view, with black veins still lingering on your neck

Fuck, it was like watching the devil turn into a siren. Irresistibly beautiful as you resist the temptation to commit a sin

but he knew that being with you was a blessing

He watched as your pupils grew wide as you spoke

"Only if I could come home with you afterward."

Could you blame Miguel for closing the gap between your lips right then and there? Could you blame yourself for running your hand through his hair like you imagined doing it a hundred times before?

The only thing you could blame Miguel for doing was stopping before you had half the mind to skip dinner and go straight to his place.

But it wasn’t fair to do that to one of your closest friends, your partner in crime, or your fellow pea in an unlikely pod

"Consider it done."

[fullofgutsndopamine]

Hum Hallelujah

TW: Major character death (off screen), illness (not specified), hospital setting, cursing, abrupt ending

note: sorry for the abrupt ending, trying to get back into writing

more hasan here

time moves different in hospitals.

this is a well known, documented fact.

or at least-hasan will insist it is.

hasan gets to know the noises around the hospital; the near constant beeping from just outside his room. the different alarms that blare at all hours of the night, knows when it’s time to turn his back to the door and say a Hail Mary for whoever they’re running towards, or when it’s time to people watch-to see what nurses or doctors or aides finally search for the noise.

hasan makes a game out of it. At this point, it's all he can do. How many times they'll come running, how often it happens-there's a standing over/under bet he has with you-light wins for the winner; back rubs, doing the others hair-it's light stakes in a hospital room.

You make yourself busy.

Most days are curled into him (even if the doctors hate it, constantly are trying to get you off of him, but you mold to him-to his side, where you belong) trying to make time pass quicker-it's how it all begin (and later-would end) so you clung to it.

hasan would hid in your shoulderblade, only evident by a peaking eye and the top of his head-gone was the mop of unruly curly dark hair that sat on top of his head-hides in you, takes shelter as he clings to you, trying to make himself smaller. His voice is even smaller:

"To the right, birdie."

Before it develops into a coughing fit, the kind that ends with a groan and sweat across his forehead that you use the hem of your shirt to wipe it away, no matter how much he bitches that it's gross, that he hates it. you never listen.

And that's how it starts.

Nights are long-hasan insists you leave at night, doesn't listen when you say the apartment isn't the same without him.. is too big and too small all at the same time-days spent on the couch in the front room as the sun sets and rises across your face.

hasan insists you need a hobby (said after the fight on letting him go, moving on-now a subject strikes through and red, no longer allowed to be discussed) says as he plays with your fingers, brings them to his dried lips and kisses them gently- as you lay curled into him in a too small hospital bed that smells sterile and foreign at the same time-

and at first it's a joke.

the set up you have to be streaming is laughable; a laptop that overheats easily on your lap and a pair of headphones from five below that hasan bought you as a joke-

but it's a way to talk to him when the sun is down and the shadows dance around the walls of your house, making foreign shapes across the walls that leap and dance and chase you around-

hasan was the first viewer.

His time in chat was small, but meaningful: the other left, birdie or if you beat this boss i owe u a kiss it borders on flirting but the people eat it up-root for you and eventually-hasan and his recovery, for good test results, for a light at the end of the tunnel that never comes.

he'll insist he's no one, has made no impact-instead wants to see you-the messages that pile in asking about him everyday and who's winning bets begs to differ.

weeks pass, turn into months-streaming falls off, picks up-

hasan’s absence is noticed first; you try and pass it off but it's obvious through your stained cheeks and how you aren't as upbeat as usual that something is amiss. At first, you don't say it, but the changing scenery around you, the moving, the new locations-showing up with dark bags under your eyes and wearing his old clothes-it's obvious the ending wasn't what either of you wanted.

[sharp-silver4795]

Heya! Got any Zero hcs?

Of course, Love! /p even tho I don’t rly know you XD

Zero HCs

Warnings: unintentional $u!¢id3, mental illness, mental hospitals, a 6yo is accused of being insane, a 9yo dies and a Demon steals her body! Murder.

Least Sensitive > Mildly Sensitive > Most Sensitive

Quick announcement! 📣

I am still working on the EJ anatomy rant. I have 4 drafts and an ask that I’m working on. (Anon, I have not forgotten about you)

My AU has been changing a bit, and I’m still waiting for AO3 approval for an account.

HC Time!!

General

The fucking Queen of sass!

Makes an ass ton of jokes that others unknowingly walk right into

She will steal food. Girly likes her nom noms ^.^

Buff gurl. Very buff gurl. She can swing around an 80kg hammer like it’s nothing, she is mega swol!

She’s about 5’11” / 108cm and you never ask a lady her weight or your friendly neighbor HC giver doesn’t fucking know what to do here

She’s bad at math.

She can’t cook.

She’s a history nerd tho. She and Liu would get along well 😌

fuck you Helen for ruining every good friendship

Irish girlie.

Murder

She’s beating ppl to death. Common sense, yall.

She’s got a big hammer and buff as hell, what else would she be doing?

Oooooo~ our first Dungeon Member~

I call Zalgo’s Alliance the “Dungeon” in opposition to the “Mansion” but I can go over that another day.

Her big deal is that she’s just a guard.

She hates it. She feels like she’s worth so much more than to just stand around and do nothing we just throwing shade at the Rebellion now, huh?

Sexuality, Partners, Etc.

She’s Ani’s girlfriend.

That’s all.

Background

So, Zero is a demon of a different kind. I HC that demons can come from a lot of places but, in the end, all wind up in Hydra.

She is a demon formed from either suffering of a human or their pure and innocent joy.

She was originally formed from joy. Specifically, the joy from a little girl name Alisa (Alice) Thorn.

Alice was kinda alone as a kid, but not for any reason other than she just didn’t like people.

Whenever her parents saw her talking to “Sierra” (the name Alice gave Zero) out loud, they became concerned and took her to a psychiatrist.

She was put on so many medications and therapies that she had lost that joy.

One day, when Sierra came to her, she cried. She bawled her fucking eyes out.

To get, Sierra was no longer a friend but the entity that damned her to lose 80% of her childhood to mental hospitals and drugs she didn’t wanna take.

In a rage, Alice took one of her dad’s knives to cut at her old friend. However, there’s a catch to Zero’s existence: the creator cannot kill their creation.

In trying to destroy Sierra, she killed herself.

Sierra felt so empty at Alice’s death. In her mind, the said:

I’m nothing now. It all means nothing. I mean nothing. I am nothing.

The number “Zero” is a representation of nothing.

Thus, we now have Zero.

[themindelectricdemo4]

ok actually on another post i just remembered that manipulation is literally conscious (like u dont have tpo be "yessss. i am going to manipulative on purpose." cuz most people dont think that. but like if its a guilt trip & u want someone to feel guilty on purpose then thats manipulation cuz itd like yeah youre consciously wanting them to feel guilty thats manipulation. even if youre not like actively thnking it

i think ive def manipulated before w/o a doubt esp with guilt tripping but ironically i think im also been gaslit into what my own thoughts have been because seriously i dont even know what ive been thinking before because its so messed up & strewn in my head.

people try to literally change my intent when i knew what my intent was. & intent & impact are not the same thing. but the intent isnt changed by the impact. ok like really basic like ok intent is to make someone happy but it makes someone sad. it doesnt mean the intention changes into an attempt to make that person sad even though they became sad. & thats ok that means there was a misalign in the communication there & u have to figure out where the message went wrong (like word choice, setting, situation, mood, tone, etc. it goes on.) but ive literally known at the time my intention but ive had people actively tell me my intention is incorrect. like. what. intention & impact are super personal & are unwavering regardless but both matter. like intent is personal but impact is personal too cuz its like, ok lets say i made a joke about something in an attempt to make someone happy but it reminded them of like...idk...how their mom used to make the same joke idk & their mom passed away super random but its personal!! & no one knew the impact until it happened (but like yeah you can study how things lead to the same impact like every time. like passive aggressiveness. ok well u intended to say smth useful but it was passive aggressive so the impact was negative right then thats the problem in delivery.)

but like tellign someone their intent was off is like.......& same with impact. the "sorry u felt that way " kinda beat its like...u cant tell someone how they were impacted or how an intent was but the problem lies inbetween the message like i said word choice, setting, etc. the "noise" so to say. but when i have my intention told its something different over & over it makes me queston everything. when all that needed to be said was "hey the way you said this comes across as this, so even though your intention may be _ the way you do so & so makes it comes across as _" like can people just act like adults for real for once & not communicate in their head only like. thinking im a mind readeror anyone is for that matter, but also like, sayng things in a direct manner instead of beating around the bush. like its ok if it works for ppl but it doesnt work for me!! & if it doesnt work for either & thats ok!! we dont have to talk!! but if the problem is communication misalignment people dont have to gaslight. good god

ok another random nonsensical ramble it makes sense in my head it doesnt on paper. im like...uber autistic about all dis...& i dony even think i use it perfectly in practice either DEF not .... jeez omg ive def been more indirect than i wanted to be a lot but i wanna get better at it...

isnt that the goal in life to always strive to be better or whatever if something was perfect there woulnt be anything to keep going for so at that point u would just be like ok theres nothing more that awaiits me than death itself.

then ill b told im arguing semantics or something guys i cant win (no one can its umm the game of life or something :nerd emoji

[ziracona]

Sometimes I want to go on rants about how much I love things and keysmash about a relationship I adore and make edits and beloved charcater art and 9 page researched essays about how bomb some good shit is, and sometimes I want to go on a rampage ripping a thing I hate to shreds or bitching about a character who annoys the fuck out of me or a ship I can’t stand or write a 9 page researched essay about how fucked something is, and that’s just how I enjoy fandom!!! And nobody can stop me! Its how I enjoy and what makes me happy and how I engage and I love it! I am my own devil and my own angel and sometimes I am my own tired cabbage merchant who just can’t leave—I don’t hole myself up to stanning a media I love and I don’t go flaw hunting, I don’t sink myself into dying on the deck of one ship I don’t spend all my time working to religiously pick apart every potential flaw, I hit that whole goddamn rollercoaster /range/ of human emotions. I’m out here feeling it all, baby! I’m pingpong from gushing about news I am so happy I could die over to bitching about the pettiest annoyance I care about like im a damn cheerleader in a 90s movie, and it’s unbelievably fucking sexy of me!!! I want it all, baby, & I’m takin it!!!

[threepointseven]

I can't remember if I already asked this here or on another blog, but just to be sure: Can I request one where Xiao, Childe, and Kazuha discover that someone has been threatening and hurting their S/O who kept quiet about it as not to burden them with their problems?

When they find out someone has been hurting you but you chose to hide it.

Type- scenario 🍄+HC’s 🌷

Flowers included!🌼= childe x gn! Reader, kazuha x gn! Reader, xiao x gn!reader

Note🍀= HEYEYEY I HOPE I GOT THIS CORRECT AND THAT U ENJOY 😋 THIS IS KINDA OOC BUT OH WELL

🥀Flower toxins!🥀- mentions if blood, death, injury, assault

Albedo ,scaramouche

Genshin masterlist

💐Your bouquet has been delivered <3💐

Xiao

- xiao always reminded you that if you had any trouble with anyone, hed quickly dispose of them in a flash, you trusted him you really did! But in your mind you told yourself it was just another burden to him, just another person he had to deal with

- “Hes overworked enough” is what you kept telling yourself every day you got home from your job as you convinced yourself to not bother Xiao with it, your boss wasn’t the kindest person.

- Constantly threatening you with more than just “ill fire you” it got to a point where they’d threaten to hurt you, and sometimes they did.

- You’d finish work with a small bruise or two, sometimes he’d go so far as to draw blood when ‘teaching you how to be diligent’

- But you never told Xiao, you figured it would be an annoyance to him

- You were wrong ofc he’d take a bullet for you

- He has already suspected that there was trouble at your job, and so one day he followed you into liyue without your knowledge and patiently watched how your day went before your drunken boss came rushing to you, shouting in your face, it took every ounce of self control to not stick his pole arm into your bosses head,

- But your boss raised their hand, in a terrifyingly threatening way and in a flash xiao raced to make space between the two of you and he unconsciously wrapped an arm around you protectively

- A shroud of menacing anemone surrounded him and the atmosphere, giving them a wound in their leg as a warning.

- When you got too wangshuu in he was all over you, he sounded angry at you for keeping it from him, furious. But his desperate eyes of relief betrayed him and he complained.

“You should’ve told me..! What if you got fatally injured at one point?!” Everything was scattered in his mind, the mere thought of you having such injuries irked him.

“I thought you’d be annoyed…”

“annoyed. really. What matters to me is your safety, not how tiring dealing with a weakling is.” He deadpanned at you before disappearing.

“A-ah-! Xiao!!”

- While you looked for him he was dealing with your boss, blood was definitely shed but unfortunately, its against his contract to kill mortals *sigh*

- And by the end of it he kept being all pouty to you </3 claiming you were dumb to not tell him, give him a plate of almond tofu and some reassurance that you’ll tell him next time and hell be alright

Kazuha

- a polite little fellow, always telling you he’ll protect you and teach anyone who hurts you some ‘manners’.

- He was too sweet to lay your burdens on, always welcoming you home with a smile and his poetic words, you would rather drown than ruin the atmosphere with “hey kazu im getting heavily assaulted by the person every day please help me get rid of them!”

- The person that was assaulting you was your so called ‘friend’, theyd punch you and even go as far as to use their vision on you and then brush it off as ‘jokes’ and ‘all fun and games!’

- But everyday it was a new black eye and it was practically a race against the clock to get home before kazuha did so you could hide each bruise with makeup

- And alas, it was a friday and Kazuha had said he was getting home from his little boat journey on Saturday so you thought it was a perfect time to start patching yourself up, so right after your daily beating from your apparent friend you got home and put bandages everywhere on your body thinking itll be fine since kazuhas not home

- WRONG. HE GOT HOME EARLY AS A SURPRISE🙄 And when he catches you bandaging practically every inch of your bruised body his heart sinks as you look at him frantically trying to explain the cuts on your neck.

“Was it a person? If so may i have their name dove?“ His sweet smile contrasts his eyes full of murder as he readies his sword.

“Its not a big deal theyre just a friend-!”

“If theyre doing this they are in no way a friend my love.”

- Give him the name and off he goes letting the wind guide him to that monster

- When he gets home you see that there is a speck of blood on his clothes, not his. Hes all over you!! Comforting you, taking you to the crux to ask help from one of their healers, the entire week is just him being slightly more overprotective and touchy

Childe

- Now why in the world aren’t you telling him??????????????????????? all you need to say is “(insert name) is hurting me what should I do about it?” And he’s already planning his next homicide

- Everyday they followed you like someone observing their prey, it just wouldn’t stop. From whispers of “isn’t that tartaglias partner?” to sudden threats, and from threats to pulling you into an alley way and punching you in the face continuously

- Covering the bruises with makeup became a regular occurrence, you’d gotten good at it.

- “What would he think?” “Would he think im weak?” “What if he ends up leaving me since i cant to defend myself from something as small as a few punches…?”

- It was like any other night, cuddling in bed with childe, playing around and giggling, the atmosphere was light and the room was filled with laughs, atleast before your boyfriend playfully hit a spot they had bruised up today.

“Ouch-! Oii that hurts!” You laughed, too caught up in the moment before realizing what you had said

“Hm? Hurts? I barely even touched you sweetheart?”

“Oh uhm dont worry i was just joking hah..” you placed a hand on the clothed bruise and in a blip you remembered you failed to cover your bruise up as your makeup had run out and you resorted to a sweatshirt.

It was like he read your mind and instantly he sat up with a serious shine in his eyes.

“Show me the bruise and who did it to ya.” It wasnt at all a question, more like a command.

- after you explained to him what happened the entire way he had that threatening smile of his, clearly ready to murder this dumbass

- And he did!! Surprise surprise. He told you to take him to the place they usually tend to start hurting you at, a small little road and the moment that dude approached you, assumingely to resume their little game of “beat up the innocent civilian cause theyre dating a ginger”

- Your lovely boyfriend interfered, giving the person a threatening smirk before showing his blades of hydro,

“Ah, i recommend you close your eyes love!”

- You did immediately, closing your eyes and shutting your ears the entire time, only hearing the strangers muffled screams and pleads for mercy.

- Before you could even open your eyes your boyfriend was leading you away from the scene and all you smell was iron in the air

“Next time tell me alright! I’ll deal with them in a jiffy sweetheart!”

[hard--mode]

Here's the notes for everything that would happen up until the end of the story.... as far as I had it figured out. You'll notice things are a lot less fleshed out the later things go. That's a big reason why this never got finished. the longer I tried to keep the thing running, the more I realized I never had any idea what I wanted to actually DO with this story which made it pretty hard for me to keep up. it's hard to write a story you're trying to take seriously if all you really have are jokes, it turns out.

I haven't reread any of this or edited it at all so who knows what kind of notes I might have written in between things haha

P: so as i was saying about undyne-

C: who’s undyne?

Everyone freezes. Chara just walked right up to papyrus without being noticed. Paps freaks out for a sec before he pulls sans into a huddle. Chara frowns and tries to peek around.

~Montage of papyrus’s excitement and harder puzzles, death montage

~Junior jumble: its sudoku now

Chara’s doing puzzles and sees flowey spying. They shout him over

C: HEY! still following me, loser? Don’t you have anything better to do? (but they smile)

F: somebody’s gotta make sure you don’t get killed too much out here

Flowey pops up closer to them

C: nah, I’m fine! I’ve got that reset power!

F: not for long considering how much you use it (mumbles. Rolls eyes??) (some depiction of chara dying a lot in the bg)

C: by the way…. In the ruins you were telling me to use it… care to tell me more about it since you seem to know so much?

F: I-... uh… well you already know the most of it. It just resets you back to your last SAVE point like nothing happened. Only beings with a powerful SOUL can use it, so monsters with their weak souls can’t.

Chara stops their puzzle work and sits to even the heights: Can flowers?

F: what the heck are you-... oh, no no no. I’m different.

C: so you have the power too.

F: No! I mean-, i used to before you came around. Yeah.

C: so you’ve done resets. (urging him on)

F: yep.

Chara waits a while: ...thats all you have to say?

F: yep

Travel scenes from here on out depict chara and flowey together

Gauntlet:

Flowey remarks that he doesn't remember a save point being before it. Chara goes along and gets paps’ bit. He does to activate it

C: wait this isn't for real right? U can't be srs!!!

P: yeah I am, this is hard mode!

Just show chara repeatedly spawning at the save and running back in with flowey watching them

Then cut to the end chara on the other side of it panting and exhausted, papyrus shocked but also beaming

P: wow you did it!! I'm so proud of u human! I didn’t think you would actually be able to get through it--- I mean- drat! Foiled again! I'll get u one of these times!

Papyrus runs off and Chara watches him with a look of wonder in their eyes.

F: don’t get too excited. his pride is cheap, he’s proud of everyone and every thing

Chara grumbles and marches forward: whatever. I don’t hear you saying you’re proud of me, so why do I have to listen to what you have to say

F: You know, you’re gonna have to fight him soon. Didn’t sans say so? What are you going to do then, die over and over until you give up or are you going to try to murder him just like you did with Toriel? :)

C: I am not! I’m gonna talk him out of it and go right past him like everyone else. Who knows! Maybe he won’t even fight me because he’s that cool. Even if he does, he’s probably a wimp anyways.

F: I wouldn’t be so sure! I bet you don’t stand a chance.

C: shut up! Quit following me if you’re gonna be this useless.

Paps fight

As papyrus carries their body to the shed to rest. Opens on their vision returning and they see their hands hanging toward the ground.

C: why didn’t you kill me? You’re stronger than everyone else, you could easily do it. Why dont you finish me off so everyone can leave or whatever it is you need me to do? Why did you hold back?

P: OH! YOU’RE AWAKE!

C: you held back…

P: OF COURSE i DID! I COULD NEVER KILL YOU, YOU’RE MY-- I HOPE I’M NOT BEING TOO FORWARD, BUT I LIKE TO THINK OF YOU AS MY FRIEND! AND EVEN THOUGH WE DO NEED YOUR SOUL, YOU DESERVE A FIGHTING CHANCE TO DO… WHATEVER IT IS YOU’RE TRYING TO DO.

Chara is too shocked and confused by the sentiment: I don’t… I don’t understand?

P: WHAT’S SO HARD TO UNDERSTAND ABOUT A FRIEND NOT KILLING YOU? HUMANS ARE SO STRANGE ...OH! I SEE NOW! THE REASON WHY YOU CARRY YOUR KNIFE LIKE THAT. IT’S BECAUSE YOU’RE MORE AFRAID OF US MONSTERS THAN WE COULD EVER BE OF YOU!

He sets them down in the shed on the dog bed.

P: I’M SORRY, HUMAN! I WOULD HAVE GIVEN YOU MORE WARNING IF I HAD KNOWN HOW YOU FELT.

C: then… does that mean you’re going to let me go?

P: ABSOLUTELY NOT! I ALREADY CALLED UNDYNE TO MEET ME SO SHE CAN TAKE YOU! AND YOU NEED TO REST NOW AFTER ALL THAT!

C: !! I-I don’t know who Undyne is, but I can’t do that. I’m in a hurry to get out of here.

P: HMM… IF YOU’RE IN A HURRY THEN… NO, NO YOU CAN’T! WE NEED YOUR SOUL, I CAN’T JUST LET YOU LEAVE. UNDYNE’S REALLY COOL TOO, YOU’LL LIKE HER!

C: No, I have to go.

P: AGH, WELL… I SUPPOSE IF YOU CAN GET PAST ME BEFORE I CAN CATCH YOU, THERE’S NOTHING I CAN DO. BUT I WON’T GO EASY ON YOU!

Cut to chara walking toward waterfall, papyrus calling after them to come back and hang out sometime. They keep walking and mutter to themself: Sorry, but I’ll get out of here before that ever happens.

WATERFALL

They see monster kid and side eye sans as they charge in, hurriedly.

Chara keeps flowey around and asks him to read the words for him. FLowey says it’s not important at all to anything they’re doing. It’s just monster history junk that means nothing if chara’s trying to leave. Chara’s like shut up cmon help me out maybe there's clues. FLowey reads some history stuff in waterfall treating it like shit they already know

F: why do you care about all this garbage anyway?

C: I dunno, I guess it just sounds familiar. Like a story I heard a long time ago.

Chara stops suddenly and checks their phone. Flowey asks what’s up

C: i thought it rang… you didn’t hear-

The phone starts ringing. Papyrus is cheerfully on the other end and they walk and talk.

He tells them about how he heard so many horrible things about humans and the surface but chara was much nicer than he ever expected. Chara asks where he heard that and he says a flower told him. Chara covers the receiver and looks around for flowey, suspicions of him raised.

Montage w monster kid and umbrella

Chara falls from undyne’s spear attack and wakes up in the trash with flowey over them.

F: hey, wake up. I can tell you’re not dead so hurry up and get moving.

Chara’s kind of bummed: she killed me four times back there. And it wasn’t even a fight. I couldn’t talk her down or… i couldn’t even talk to her, I could barely see her.

F: what, are you giving up or something? You know she can kill you as much as she wants and you aren’t gonna die.

C: I know that! I know this is just like a game where you can keep on going but… it hurts. And it’s exhausting.

F: what will you do then? Sit here in this trash and do nothing?

C: *sigh* no. I’m just feeling down in the dumps.

They smile and get up.

As they’re walking out, they hear a click and someone to tell them to “hold it”

Mad dummys behind them and she just has a gun. Pointed directly at chara. She starts on her thing about the cousin and then blook saves the day.

Chara meets up with blook again. They go to where the snail races used to be. It’s all busted and unused

C: what’s this supposed to be…?

B: oh…. this used to be a snail farm…. And this was a race course…. For snails…. But a long time ago people started to call the races “insensitive” so we had to close them…. Sorry you can’t have any fun racing snails…

C: why was it insensitive…?

B: ...i’d… rather not talk about it………..

Timeskip

C: hey flowey! What’s up with this place and snails?

F:...i wouldnt know.

montage

After waterfall where undyne says how many souls they have

C: flowey… if they have 6 human souls, that means 6 others fell down and died here, so…

F: what?

C: i just- i mean you were the first one i met-

F: no, no, no, ive never killed anyone. You’re the only human i’ve seen since i woke up

Chara relaxes: ok. So you dont know anything about them.

F: no. i heard some things from toriel, not much. It’s too late to try asking her, but she’s seen all of them. She was there at the beginning even.

C: the beginning?

F: you know…. When humans started falling down here and monsters started killing them.

Chara goes silent in thought: wait… how… long has this been going on? How old is toriel?

F: dunno

Chara after having a rough time: it’s hard, but no matter what happens i can just keep trying. I’ll make it out of this! You believe in me right, flowey?

F: no i think you should give up.

Page/chapter ends there. Next is chara going up to fight undyne.

Open on a riff on the “long ago” cutscene that chara cuts off by saying they already know this story

Undyne screams SHUT UP!!! I’m doing my HEROIC MONOLOGUE!! Whatever, I bet you haven’t heard the part about the King and Queen’s human child who died of illness and their other son who was killed by the humans when he tried to return their body to the surface?!

C: No I think I heard that one too? Why are you telling me all this anyways??

U: because this is an UNSKIPPABLE CUTSCENE!! NYAAAGGGHHHH!!!!!

Chara’s getting their ass beat and on low hp: I’ll die in a hit or two. But that’s fine because I’ll just start this over. I’ll start from… where was the last save point…

A vision of them with flowey. Their eyes go red and the flashback cuts in between shots of them running from undyne

F: I think you should give up

Ch: what… give up?? I thought you were on my side with all the telling me to keep going and-and the hanging out with me?!

F: as if you had any other choice but to keep going! We both know you don’t.

C: so you’ve just been following this whole time waiting for me to give up and die, huh?! Why, are you trying to steal my soul just like everybody else?!?

F: it doesn’t matter how hard you try, you’re going to die! And die and die and die! You can reset as much as you want, it won’t change that! So what if I am waiting for you to give up? You’re the last thing keeping monsters trapped down here. If you give up, you’ll give everyone what they want!

C: I thought you wanted to help me?! I thought you were my friend!

F: I would never be friends with a human! You’re all nothing but killing machines!

C: I haven’t killed anyone!

F: You killed Toriel! No number of resets can change what you did! You’re a horrible, disgusting human just like all the others and everyone would be happier if you were dead!

Flowey could say something about dying down here is better than their inevitable death on the surface. Their death would at least be worth something. Mean something

Chara escapes the fight, undyne collapses, and they walk away. they tell themselves they won’t give up. They don’t need help, especially not from that dumb flower. They’ll live to spite him and everyone else who tries to kill them

Chara goes in and meets alphys and overall is p meh abt it bc bad mood. Alphys helping them through the underground makes them talk to themselves about how they dont need flowey, they can do this themself. Friends are no good.

hotland is as normal. probably figure out some indication of things not right. make the game seem broken bc they arent supposed to get so far like this

Chara meets with sans at mtt resort for food reluctantly. Lets him say his piece. After he’s done threatening to kill them chara says to his face that they really don’t like him.

Need some hubbub about them having to kill asgore to get out. Theyll be like yeah I know that (somehow)... oh but I need a plan… how will i come up with a plan..

Flowey finally appears to chara again just before they get to new home and tries to talk them out of leaving. Disparaging the surface and telling them they could live happily down here. Chara says no, it’s too hard because people are constantly hunting them down and being the last soul, no ones going to stop that. He says that he’s sorry for the way he was before

Chara smiles back, and then looks away: What you said before… about.. My inevitable death on the surface…

F: that was… don’t worry about that.

C: are you afraid of it?

F: well- yeah, it’s a dangerous place. Everyone knows that.

C: I’ve died a lot more times down here than I ever did up there.

A beat

C: you go back and forth a lot between talking about how I should stay down here because it’s better… but also if I die down here… everyone gets to go free… to the horrible, awful surface.

F: uh,, did I say all that…? I may have contradicted myself a little… I guess… in the end I just wanted an excuse for you to stay around. I really don’t want you to die.

C: so you did see me as a friend after all?

F: well…you reminded me of someone who was my friend. I wish we could have been friends.

C: Do you think… If I reset back to the beginning and did this again, if I said the right things… we could have been?

F: No… You could be as nice to me or as mean to me as you want. No matter how many times you reset, some things never change.

C: ...Did you ever… have to reset because you killed someone?

F: ……….once… and then I never reset ever again. The power to reset… makes you do bad things. It’s wrong. I had to stop because i knew… I’d make someone really upset if I kept messing around.

C: well, in that case… I guess I’ll just have to get the rest of the way out of here without any resets!

Flowey smiles: I dunno, keep one or two under your belt. You’re a pretty big klutz.

C: Thanks for helping me out of here, flowey. Even if you just did it because you were begged.

Can you imagine a more paranoid flowey who is less interested in attacking you and regaining the reset ability, but is pleased af that you have the reset ability because that means you can't die, and instead he spends the entire game trying to convince you that humanity is hopeless. That there is nothing on the surface world returning to. That it's safer, down here.

he's part of the reason why things are so much harder

he's the one that starts the rumors about the dangers of teh surface world

there's a definite sense of paranoia all across the board

When they approach new home, flowey appears one last time and grabs chara by the hand, telling them not to go. They can live in the underground, they’ve made a lot of friends here. Chara says that they have to go, they’ll find a way to get out without killing asgore. Flowey says that he tried to stop them, this is as far as he’ll go. This is goodbye. They bid their farewells and chara goes along, but flowey secretly follows them, much less detectable than ever before. It’s revealed when he’s hiding with the flowers.

Chara walks up to new home, regarding it as a vaguely familiar sight. They walk down the many halls knowing exactly where to go. The monsters speak as they go through the motions. They find a cookbook in the kitchen with a page for snail pie missing. Chara mumbles about already knowing the story and that they should all shut up. They walk more quickly to stay ahead of them. Then one mentions the snail pie and chara stops dead in their tracks. No that’s not how it happened- they stop, and take back off.

They are stopped by sans in the judgement hall, glaring at him.

S: well I had a whole speech to give ya, but you look like you’re in a hurry. You’re a weird kid, but you’re fine. The king’s up ahead.

OTHER alternative: chara realizes something’s wrong and runs back to get everyone, probably threatening to kill asgore to convince them to come quickly. Sans is avoided due to the mob approaching behind them “I heard the word that you’re on your way to kill the king.” c: are you here to stop me? “Nah. But you’d better have a good plan to back yourself up, kid. King’s up ahead”

They run up to asgore, no nonsense. Some time is taken to progress things. As they leave the throne room, flowey watches from the flowers, chara looks back to confirm he’s there.

Asgore draws up the souls, the fight is about to engage, before he can smash “MERCY” chara yells: ASRIEL. Get the souls.

Everything stops. Flowey is behind them, stunned and confused. Chara turns and asks him what he’s waiting for. Hurry up and take the souls before everyone else gets here. Nearly every last monster is coming, if he can become godlike and absorb them, it will be enough strength to break the barrier.

Flowey is confused, how do they know that? Chara tells him he did it before. Doesn’t he remember? Doesn’t he remember them?

Either flowey does it and something happens, or flowey waits too long and chaos erupts which gets them killed, and then chara and flowey have to meet up and workshop.

Final fight:

He probably says some shit about frisk and how he cant lose frisk again, chara must insist that theyre not frisk. When they say their name is chara, he hesitates for only a moment. Finally, when chara’s pinned and about to seriously die…

C: you remember it now too, don’t you? It took me a while, I couldn’t remember a thing until i started hearing your name around. You’re an all powerful god now, you should be able to remember it all better than me

A: shut up.

C: would frisk want us to fight like this?! Would frisk want you to kill your own sibling?!

A: c-.... You’re… you’re really chara?

He lets them go

They reach the conclusion that frisk messed with everything and put them here with no memories so they could do something frisk could never do. Frisk thinks they deserve to live, no matter how much the two may disagree. They have to play along. Asriel is a god and can use his powers to break the barrier and bring EVERYONE back to life so they can live together happily.

go to final fight and everyones already there, things are very confused, flowey takes the souls and things glitch out (screen phases between bosses) and chara realizes this isnt how things are supposed to be, tells asriel theyre sorry for their baggage but he doesnt understand bc he isnt theirs, and then they gotta find frisk somehow

OR... they realize things in the speech and don't go to fight asgore bc theyre finding flowey... they feign fighting asgore and then suddenly tell flowey to take the souls("Asriel! get the souls!" and thats the first time they call him by name)...? i like that a bit better. they start going on about crazy shit that makes roided out flowey kind of lose it at them which leads to them apologizing to their own asriel but then realizing they need to find frisk

but HOW do they find frisk

The end shows chara asriel and frisk hugging eachother, all alive and well. Then the two are “processing…” and remember that oh, theyve done some dark messed up stuff.

[yelenasdog]

𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 (𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐖𝐈  𝐁𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄𝐒

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: wherever they go, it seems they can’t escape each other

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 6.09k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smoking, drinking, kissing, getting ~steamy~, but nothing explicit.

𝐚/𝐧: this kinda feels melodramatic at times, but over all i think this is an alright fic that took me forever LOL! i hope you enjoy it! btw,

this can be read as ben!rog or just rog, i just was thinking of ben!rog when i wrote it

also if u wanna listen to kiwi while listening, the vibes would be immaculate and i reccomend it :D kk enjoy

✺🎬✺

Her footsteps were mute as she padded forward on the concrete, searching furiously through her crochet bag. The box in her hands stayed tightly gripped though, Roger noted. He waited a bit until he was certain she had no chance of finding what he thought she was looking for, and that he would be her last resort.

“Need a light?”

He watched with careful eyes as the girl next to him fumbled about to pick out a cigarette from the nearly emptied box, probably just some cheap ones from the gas station near the dorms.

“Yes, thanks.”

The brunet nodded, bringing his forward to her’s and inhaling, a few loose embers falling to the ground in a sparkling orange flurry.

Roger observed the way her chipped nails on ring adorned fingers shakily held the cigarette as she brought it to her lips, taking a very long drag.

It was windy out that night (which was the reason he was telling himself he decided not to bother with his Zippo), her silky black dress doing barely a thing to keep her covered from the chilly temperatures. He noticed the blue tint to her formerly painted lips, only a pale stain of color left behind. He also happened to notice the goosebumps that graced her exposed arms and legs, and her slight shiver that came with it.

The girl nervously adjusted the twisted strap to her purse, sending a glance in Rog’s direction every once in a while, but mostly she kept her gaze fixed on the stars above. She seemed to be mesmerized by the way they twinkled so brightly, even in the polluted sky. The bottles of liquor in her purse clinked together, and she cringed visibly at the sound, a shiver being sent through her bones.

He smiled at her behavior, oddly endeared by it, perhaps even enchanted.

“What’s your name?”

She turned, taking the stick from between her lips. Roger kept his eyes glued to the plump flesh momentarily despite the movement away from the area.

“That’s none of your business, Roger.” She smiled, a playful look set ablaze in her eyes.

He looked down, putting his hands up in mock surrender.

“How do you know my name, then?” He questioned curiously, slanting his eyes and quirking a brow.

“Your band.” Her voice seemed softer, almost a fond tone set within it.

“You’ve seen us play?”

“Yeah, you guys are good.”

“You’re a fan then?”

She chuckled, looking to her feet.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

He laughed, nodding yet again.

They stayed together for some time, silently and mutually agreeing that enough had been said. They finished off their smokes, and with that, she turned to go.

“Bye, Roger.”

He bit his lip, feeling the sting shoot through him. He was conflicted on if to make a move, not wanting to diminish his confident and cool reputation he believed he had built for himself. He settled for shouting something along the lines of “will I see you around?” (which upon thinking back over it, maybe it wasn’t that cool), to which she only shrugged and kept walking.

He could hear the bottles loudly clanking together as she sauntered off, lord knows where to. He watched her go until she turned the corner, tossing one final look in his direction before continuing on, leaving him in deep thought.

-

“I’m telling you, mate, she was drop dead gorgeous. And I have no idea who she is, no name or anything!”

Brian rolled his eyes, tossing his notebook across the room onto the yellow sofa Roger was resting on, turning his full attention to his distraught friend.

“Well, did you ask her for her name?”

He shook his head, rolling his eyes in a similar manner to Bri. “Yes, I did. She said it was ‘none of my business’.” He scoffed, twirling a single drumstick between his fingers while tapping his foot repeatedly, annoying Brian to no end (per usual). The curly headed man only barked out a laugh, finding the entire situation quite humorous, if he was being honest.

“But she knew the band! Said that she thought we were good. S’ like she couldn’t make up her damn mind.” He grumbled, slumping forward.

“Wait, she knows the band?”

The drummer looked at him like he had two heads nodding slowly.

“Yeah, what about it?”

Brian stood up and sighed, grabbing his guitar and headed to the edge of the bar’s stage, resting behind the curtain briefly.

“You really are thick, Roger.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” He joined him by the curtain, noticing Tim had come up behind the pair.

“What’s all this about, then?”

“Nothing.” Brian and Roger replied in unison. Tim huffed, making his way onto the stage where the growing crowd was waiting. Cheers could be heard for the frontman as he introduced himself, saying something about how the rest of the band would be out in a second, and that they were just having some “sound issues”.

“Rog, if she’s a fan, she’s probably here tonight, yes?”

His eyes widened, and he suddenly began to feel quite dumb, not that he would admit it.

“Yeah, I suppose so…but she said she wasn’t a fan?” He trailed off, confused.

“She probably was just saying that for some reason. I don’t know, women are odd, they like to play hard to get.” Brian commented, oddly flippant for how conflicting his statement was.

Roger stood in place for a moment, still greatly confused what Brian was trying to get at. He shook his head and furrowed his brows, trying to put together the puzzle of this mess in his mind.

“Roger, for God's sake, don’t think about it, just go.”

Following his advice, Roger did his best to disregard any previous thoughts of confusion, a switch flipping in his mind. He stood taller, saying, “You know what Bri, maybe you’re right.”

“Great, go on then.” He watched as Roger bounded out with a newfound adrenaline and a smile plastered on his face, rolling his eyes for what wouldn’t be the final time that night at his bandmate’s antics.

As soon as he had made it behind his kit, he was scanning the crowded room, trying to locate the girl from last night. He watched the door throughout the performance, trying to see if she might have just come in a bit late. He held the hope she would somehow show up with him in his mind, but all to no avail.

The entire night, he couldn’t shake the thought of her lips from his mind, or the way the skin of her neck was so open and exposed, practically begging for him to attack it with his own lips. And with the way things were going thus far, he was sure that pretty face of her’s would be the death of him, he was certain, in fact.

“Find her?” Bri had questioned almost as soon as they had ended for the night, the lot of them now working on cleaning up.

“Nah. She never showed up.”

“I’m sorry, Rog. Maybe you’ll see her again soon, the campus isn’t that huge, you know.” Roger’s mouth formed a thin line as he raised his eyebrows, not convinced in the slightest that the situation proposed would occur.

“At this point I’m wondering if she’s even a bloody student here.” Roger grumbled, obviously no longer feeling the initial electric adrenaline of the night's performance.

Brian frowned, placing a sympathetic hand on his friend's shoulder and patting it once or twice before standing to go finish packing up.

It was later now, and the boys were finally leaving the bar, bidding their goodbyes to those around them. Roger walked out the front (in what Tim and Brian joked was a ‘moping manner’), hearing the bell jangle above his head, ringing annoyingly in his ear. The cold air hit him like an arctic breeze (or a ton of bricks, he wasn’t sure which description was more fitting). He shook his head and blinked a few times, as if that would rid his body of the frigid feeling. He sighed dramatically and pulled his corduroy jacket tighter around himself, watching as his breath made a small cloud in front of him.

“Roger?”

He turned, recognizing the voice immediately.

“Having a pity party, are you?” She giggled out, wrapping her arms around her middle.

“It’s only me, so no. Not a party.”

She “ahh”-d in understanding, her mouth forming into a sly grin. Her lips were a pale pink color that night, her eyes a bright blue shade. And similarly to the night previous, she was graced with only a brown fringed dress, her matching boots in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other.

“Then what would it be if I joined you?”

He stood in thought, tilting his head. “I think then, yeah, it would be a party.”

“Do you not get cold, ever?” He added after a beat of silence, observing her ill outfit choice for the frosty climate. She rolled her eyes, muttering out a brief “ha, ha.”

Roger couldn’t help but bite his lip, holding back a laugh.

“I do on occasion get a little bit chilly. But I like the feeling.”

He tilted his head, walking over to where she was leaning against the brick wall of the dive bar. He turned to face her, not that she noticed, putting his weight on the rough surface behind him.

“It makes me feel,” she hesitated, struggling to find the right word, although she felt it was right on the tip of her tongue.

“Alive?”

She finally met his eyes after what seemed like forever, softly nodding. To him, she looked like an angel in that moment, the street light so beautifully illuminating her locks like a halo around her. He reached a cautious hand forward, dragging it against her cheek, down to her bottom lip.

Her mind was screaming at her to leave while she still could, to somehow not fall in the mix of the infamous campus player that was Roger Taylor.

But her heart? Well, as cliche as it sounds, her heart was telling her to disregard any reasonable thoughts and just kiss the bastard, for God’s sake.

And if anyone knew Y/n Y/l/n, they knew that most times, she would listen to the latter mentioned, rather than the former. And so after several moments of unbearable silence, she decided she would. Catching on relatively fast, Roger took her flush against him, Y/n able to feel his breath fanning over her face.

She leaned forward with a small smile, placing her hands on either side of his face. Her eyes wandered to his plump and rosy lips, adrenaline pumping through her veins. But before she could make the final leap, so to say, Brian, of all people, called out her name in a confused nature, squinting, believing that it might have been his eyes deceiving him. The girl from his 9 a.m. lecture could not possibly be about to snog his bandmate.

Impossible.

Her eyes widened, head turning immediately when hearing her name fall from his lips.

“Brian, hey!”

“Wait, you two know each other?”

Ignoring Roger’s (panicked) question, Brian walked over, a look of amazement still prevalent in his features. She moved from Roger’s side over to Brian, giving him a side hug, Bri’s arm resting on her shoulders.

“I see you’ve met Y/n. She’s in my astronomy class.”

She smiled brightly as the neon signs lining the downtown district of bars and restaurants alike, meeting Brians gaze.

“Yup, got to love Dr. Martin’s lectures.” She chuckled, the tall man next to her doing the same.

Picking up on Roger’s absolutely bewildered appearance, still taking in the situation unfolding in front of him, Brian took the liberty of initiating another conversation.

“So, Y/n, did you see the show tonight?”

She frowned, crossing her arms.

“Wanted to, but no, got caught up in the library. I have my final for statistics on Thursday, or else I would have been there.” She locked eyes with Roger, giving him a soft smile. Suddenly changing her demeanor, she reached into her bag she always seemed to have with her, pulling out those cheap cigarettes and her Zippo. She lit one of the sticks, inhaling.

“In fact, I heard your drummer was incredible, so I thought I would try to see him in action tonight.” Her gaze never left Rogers as she conversed, her mouth pressed in a line, the rest of her face completely neutral.

“But you’ve seen us before Y/n, he’s been with the band for quite some time.”

“I mean, I wanted to see him with a fresh pair of eyes, a different perspective, I guess.”

Still mildly confused, Brain shook his head and muttered something like “Right, okay” to which Y/n softly smiled at before dropping the cigarette from her hand. Barefoot, she couldn’t reach down to step on it, have the sparks die out under her toes.

“Could one of you get that, please?”

Roger nodded immediately, his boot finding its way quickly, the toe of it making a circular motion. His eyes stayed on Y/n, as had hers before. And despite the bustling city around them, Hell, even despite Brian’s perplexed stare, it felt oddly intimate, as if they were locked onto each other’s view (not that they were complaining).

But they weren’t, as she proved mere seconds later, abruptly bidding them goodbye and heading the opposite direction.

The pair of boys watched her as she went, heads tilted and jaws dropped to where if their mothers were present, they would be scolded to “close their mouths before they catch flies in there!”.

“That’s her, you know.” Roger commented bluntly, slightly shaking his head and then popping his lip.

Brian took a moment, turning toward his friend, stuttering.

“As in, her, her? Y/n is mystery girl?” He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Yeah, well, good luck with that, Rog.”

“Why would I need that, Brian?” He challenged, putting his hands on his hips, lifting his chin. Brain kept his assumed position, moving his hand to scratch at his neck.

‘Well, I’m sure if you hang out around her enough, you’ll find out.”

Rather than shouting out at him, asking him what the Hell he meant, as he really wanted to, Roger paid Bri no attention, not even giving him a second look before under his breath saying “I’ll see you later”, and in what Brian considered to be a quite shocking turn of events, bolting off in the direction Y/n had gone.

He ignored the shouts from Brian, ignored the judgmental stares and loud whispers of those who recognized him from the band. He no longer cared about keeping his ‘cool reputation’, not when she was so close.

“Is that Roger Taylor?”, “Oi, isn’t that the drummer from the band at the pub?”, “Hey, why’s he buggin’ out?” all flooded his ears, usually followed by what seemed to be snickering, making a desperate attempt to cloud his mind from his self-assigned mission. But it was no use, as he was set on catching up to her. In fact, she was so close he swore he could smell the mixed scent that was uniquely her, smoke and her perfume.

He hollered her name, God, he yelled it till his throat was hoarse, just ‘cause he could. He loved the way it rolled off his tongue, he loved the fact he even had learned it to begin with, and that alone was probably why he adored it so much.

She heard his cries, turning where she stood and tilting her head.

“Roger? What on Earth are you doing?”

He finally met her, bent over on his hands and knees, breath lost in totality. She placed a concerned hand on his sweaty head, combing through his chocolate locks. He would have shivered at the feeling, if he had the energy. Rather, he looked up with the goofiest smile she’d ever seen, resembling a golden retriever, or german shepherd perhaps, in human form.

‘D’you wanna go somewhere with me? Hang out a bit?”

She nodded, holding out a hand.

“Lead the way.”

-

“Mom and Dad want me to be some kind of a scientist, study the stars.”

“Yeah? And what do you think about that.”

She tilted her head, shifting her position.

“I’m not quite sure. I wouldn’t be against it, that I know. The stars are beautiful, but they aren’t where my heart lies, I guess.”

He turned to face her, their noses almost touching. She could feel his breath fanning over her face, and the proximity sent butterflies through her stomach.

“I want to be an actress.” She all but whispered, turning her attention back to the full night sky and the wonders that hung in it.

“An actress, huh?”

She only hummed a confirmation, moving her left hand to pick at the cool grass under her palms.

“I could see that. You, I mean, on the big screens.”

She turned, and Roger swore he had never seen anyone smile so big before in his life.

“Really?”

His own smile grew, and she nodded vigorously, the two of them beginning to laugh. He pulled her closer by her shoulders, unaware of where the conversation would lead.

“I’ll go to New York. You’ll see me on billboards in Times Square.”

“Well, that’s nice to know. I’ll just be a lone dentist somewhere, while you forget all about me, having lavish parties and such. Whatever it is that famous people do.” His voice was obviously joking, melodramatic was written all over him, yet Y/n couldn’t help but still feel a sliver of guilt.

She hit his arm, rolling back over to face him. She still had a smile glued onto her lips, both of their eyes crinkling at the edges. 

“Oh, shut up, will you? Smile will make it big, and we’ll meet again, when you’re on tour. Or perhaps if I’m filming where you’re performing! We’ll have those nights to ourselves, It’ll be a secret rendezvous.”

She turned to her back again, finding his hand on the damp green, her heart beating a million miles a second as she reached for it, slowly entangling her fingers in his.

“The papers will write about us, Rog, when they find out. ‘Famous actress Y/n Y/l/n seen leaving a hotel with renowned drummer Roger Taylor’ is what the headlines will say. God, what a scene we’ll cause.” Her eyes were full of  excitement as she spoke, her heart feeling like it was so filled with glee that it could soar out of her chest.

“Well, I wanna know the specifics.” Roger sat up, pulling her up with him, she giggled, and the brunette wrapped a hand around her waist. She sat beside him, the streetlight by the backroad she had led them on illuminating her like a silhouette. She bit her lip and grinned, tilting her head up to better exam Rogers angelic features.

“Are you gonna have some bloke waiting for you at home, hmm? Waiting for you while you conquer the world, only for you to break his poor heart?”

“Nah.” Her answer was immediate, her eyes honest as she spoke. “Only a cactus. He’ll be my only friend. I hear it’s lonely in Hollywood, Roger.” He raised his eyebrows briefly at this, choosing his next words.

“You’ll have me?”

His head turned to look at her, admiring the way the pale moonlight illuminated her, the artificial light from the streetlamps not doing her neverending beauty and justice, in his opinion. Their eyes seemed sporadic, searching each other's faces for signs of what they were doing, possibly being wrong, but they found nothing, as expected.

The yearning had become all too much for the inspired pair, and it felt like at last, all they could do, the only thing they could do, was kiss.

So they did. Roger took her face in his hands, closing his beautiful eyes, his eyelashes barely brushing against hers. He leaned forward, joining them together, finding that they immediately moved in a perfect synchronization. They were like two sides of the same coin, and that seemed to be particularly evident in that moment. By the contrast of their lips, or perhaps the aspirations of their careers becoming somehow just a little bit clearer.

But it didn’t matter, none of it did. Not in the long run. So they pulled apart, chests heaving and faces painted with childish grins.

It was quiet then, only the crickets and the howling wind could be heard. But she liked it that way, preferred it, actually. So quiet, in fact, that Roger was able to fall fast asleep, Y/n lying comfortably in his arms. She stared at the stars, then back to his sleeping figure, her mind unable to come to a consensus on what on God's green Earth she was to do. 

She settled for placing a kiss on his jaw, closing her eyes. His eyes only fluttered, never waking completely. She muttered something like “See you, rockstar.” against it, before standing up and walking away, only turning back once to see his sleeping form one more time.

That was the last time for 6 years that he would see Y/n Y/l/n. See her in person, at least.

When he woke up the next morning, he was confused to say the least, wondering why Y/n didn’t wake him, mostly wondering where she had even gone. He looked around himself, patting the green grass beneath him, as if she somehow was invisible and he had missed her upon initial glance. He had shouted for her, his throat still hurting from when he did the same thing only 12 hours previous. 

He had felt out of control, like the one he had been chasing had just slipped through his fingers (which it had). He had remembered asking Bri, day after day, if he had seen her in class, even just seen her around in general. Everytime the answer was the same.

“No Roger”, “I’m sorry, Roger”, “Not today, Roger”. It was a horrible, predictable pattern, that he had enough of. He was supposed to recover from it quickly, bounce back from her almost immediately, as there was basically nothing to bounce back from.

But he couldn’t, and due to such reasons, he supposed he finally understood what Brian had said, or warned, that night before he had gone chasing after her. He got it, in his own sad way.

And over the years, she slowly faded to the back of the drummer's mind, behind groupies, and songs, and shows, and such, just for her to resurface again any time he saw her on a billboard, just as she had promised. But he never let it show, outwardly at least.

He had made Brian swear not to tell the others, never to breathe a word of it to Deaky or Fred. He was embarrassed by it, for some reason, and that’s why he guessed he forbade him from speaking of it. But how long can you keep a silly college secret from your nosy bandmates? Apparently 6 years, tops, for Roger Taylor.

“Alright, everyone. Gather ‘round, I’ve got a surprise.” Freddie had said, his grumbling bunch of friends tired from their day’s work. Though, they usually had grown to appreciate and look forward to Fred’s “surprises”, today everyone was just a tad bit too grumpy to try (a certain Roger Taylor in particular, let’s call it foreshadowing).

“Oh, stop your moaning and whining, please, I promise this will be good!” the eccentric frontman had said, something hidden behind his back in his left hand.

Rog ran a hand through his, now, blond hair, exhaling in such a way that made Freddie slant his eyes, before giving in and rolling them at his flippant behavior.

“What’s going on, Fred?” Brian had been the brave soul to ask, stepping forward and then looking away momentarily to place his guitar onto a stand waiting not so far away.

“I thought you’d never ask.” He replied, jumping down from his place on the risers, removing his hand from his back and holding out what seemed to be 4 tickets to something. He walked down the loosely formed line of men, putting one in each of their extended palms. Roger, at the end of their formation of sorts, became concerned when Brian had burst out laughing, looking to his right, being met with Roger’s face of confusion.

Freddie, possibly more confused than Roger, pressing the piece of thick paper into his hand, his gaze falling onto Brian, who now had tears in his eyes.

“Bri, what’s so… funny. Shit.” He had looked down to the slip, the only words he needed to read to know he was absolutely screwed, being “Jaws” and “Premiere”.

Now, anybody who knew anything, knew that Y/n Y/l/n was going to be in the film that was said to become the blockbuster of the summer, playing the role of Ellen Brody (though a few had said she was far too young for the job). She had been an overnight success in the film industry, gaining popularity from the 1973 film, ‘The Sting’, playing Billie.

And Roger had watched ‘The Sting’, and you can imagine his surprise when Y/n had sauntered onto screen, red lipped and fresh faced. (He had to admit, she looked great in a suit.)

After that, the assault on Roger’s fragile heart was never ending.

Billboards began to pop up even more frequently as she was to star in more films, and it seemed no matter where he was touring, he couldn’t escape her. Whether it was posters, her face printed on newspapers, adverts in about every place business was done for one of her films, he felt like he was being followed. He had even seen an article about her in a magazine, and when he had flipped the page he was greeted with Queen’s smiling faces.

He had stopped watching them after ‘American Graffiti’.

So, he figured that this one wouldn’t be any different, and he simply planned on ignoring said film until he caved, doing his best to avoid her on the silver screen and anywhere else, which hadn’t been too difficult until this point (not).

But this? This was a whole new level of being royally fucked.

“Brian, Rog, something you want to share with the rest of the class?” John had asked, cocking his head and propping his legs up on the coffee table in front of him. Brian began to speak, wrapping an arm around Roger’s shoulders, the shorter man looking up at him with angry fire burning in his eyes.

“Well, I’m honestly quite excited. The film industry has always seemed very intriguing, actually, and I’m looking forward to meeting new people. Rog?”

“No.”

“No?” John repeated, “No, what?” He waved a hand around, trying to understand what Roger’s problem was.

“I just- I don’t- I knew-”

“Roger had a fling with Y/n Y/l/n and she broke his heart.” Brain blurted out, Roger turning and immediately smacking him upside his curly head of hair. He regarded an “Ouch!” before him and the rest of the boys burst out laughing, the drummer not included in that demographic, fuming.

“Rog, darling, when was this? How did we not know?” Freddie managed to breathe out, sitting down next to Deaky on the studio sofa. He crossed his hands and ankles, his full attention turned towards Roger who really, really didn’t wanna have to do this, and who really, really was gonna get Brian back for this later. Would he untune all his guitars? Unplug his amp during rehearsals, perhaps put hair remover in his shampoo? But, that would have to wait until after he was forced to spill his 6 year secret.

“It was in 69-”

“69?!” Freddie had cried out. “It’s been 6 bloody years? And you didn’t think to tell us?”

“Well I didn’t really see a reason it would be necessary to tell you all! In fact, I probably wouldn’t have told you ever if this bloke didn’t have such a big mouth!”

“Hey, watch it.” Brian weighed in, crossing his arms and fluttering his eyes.

“Look, Roger I really don’t see the issue here. We go to the premiere, you just keep a low profile and ignore Y/n, problem solved.” John cut in, trying to be helpful.

Keyword: trying.

“And how exactly will I do that?”

“We will behave, I promise.” Freddie added, though Roger seemed to be having a difficult time believing him or his claim for the others. So Roger only scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, I’m sure you will.”

-

Cameras were flashing brightly, reporters and such were shouting loudly, and Y/n was already exhausted.

Her red lips were painted like DeAngelo had done it himself, and her hair was styled just the way she liked. The heels she was wearing per request of her stylist, though, were horrible. They looked lovely, yes, but they were digging into her poor ankles, and she still had to wear them for who knew how long. She didn’t complain, though, she wouldn’t dream of it.

She would just continue her slow walk down the carpet, a sultry smile on her face. The black fabric of the gown she was wearing fit her beautifully, snug in all the right places.

She sure hoped it was, at least. Especially because she knew that he would be there.

Roger Taylor, the blessed drummer that managed to make a home in the backburner of her mind, his success coming as no surprise to the actress. She had loved every one of their records, and rather than running from his work like Roger had, she opted for going straight to the record shop, purchasing any and every Queen album in her sight. When she had checked out, the very shocked cashier had made some remark, asking something about “you a fan?”

She had thought about it for a moment, thinking back to all those years ago when Roger had asked the same thing. She smiled, shrugging.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

So when she had worked up the courage to invite the entire band to the premiere (on behalf of Spielberg, of course) she was a nervous wreck to find out they had accepted. Really, ask anyone who had any contact with her in the time from then to the premiere, they could testify that her moodiness had risen like a hot air balloon.

Now, though, she was kind of regretting that she had invited them, looking over to the sharp looking bunch, all dressed to the nines. She scanned her eyes over them, catching a wave from Brian, which she gladly returned with an enthusiastic smile. Bri then tapped Roger on the shoulder to alert him of Y/n’s acknowledgment, which resulted in Y/n’s eyes widening to the size of moons.

She turned her head, and worked to finish up her walk of the carpet just a tad bit faster. It all seemed to be for nothing, though, as in the dark of the theater for the premiere itself, she saw the seat next to her be filled, a presence filling her senses.

“Miss me?”

-

Their hands were all over each other, not truly caring if the tabloids caught a glimpse, just needing to make up for lost time.

They had stumbled into the golden hotel both her and Queen were staying in, the swinging doors of the New York establishment blowing a cool gust of wind in their direction.

They merely laughed at the minor interruption, their teeth clashing as they both smiled momentarily. It was soon forgotten, though, both of them having much more pressing matters in their minds.

They only came to a cease in the elevator, some old couple who most definitely did not care about whatever pressing issue the two of them felt they had, standing off to the side. (Y/n could swear she saw the older woman smirk and wink at her, to which she cocked her head and smiled.)

Once back into the safe confines of Y/n’s suite, they resumed like they had never even stopped, hands gravitating towards the others form as if they were opposite magnets, unable to be separated for too long.

“You’ve driven me crazy, you know that, right? “

She giggled and bit her lip, looking up into his eyes, their foreheads pressed together.

“Mmm? I’d hope so.”

He pulled away, shaking his head, blond locks following suit.

“Really, you have no idea. I haven’t been able to shake you from my head. You’re everywhere.”

Her excitement could barely be contained at his confession of sorts, chest heaving, trying to stay calm.

“Yeah, that was the plan.”

Roger shook his head with a dry chuckle, looking to his feet and back to her when she had tilted his head up, her finger resting on his jaw.

“Well, are you into it?” She questioned, grabbing his hand and pulling their clasped fingers in between their chests, her eyes hazy with hope.

“Yeah.” He titled his head, feigning a pondering look. “You could say I’m kinda into it.”

“Shut it!”

“Make me.”

She rolled her eyes at his stupidly provocative suggestion, and he only laughed, the two of them falling onto the plush comfort of the bed in a meshed flurry for the remainder of the night.

And if you couldn’t guess what could have possibly happened next, the black dress ended up in a pooled up pile next to the bed that night, right next to the heels that finally she had the pleasure of discarding.

The next morning, it was unlike the one 6 years ago, as when Roger woke up, he was overjoyed to find a sleeping Y/n, laying on his chest with hair splayed around her. And he had to say, he usually wasn’t much of a cuddler, but for some reason he felt so incredibly endeared, that anything else wouldn’t have sufficed.

He ran small circles on the exposed skin of her bare shoulder, the comforter concealing the rest of her limbs that were tangled up with Roger’s.

When she stirred, Roger sat up, fondly watching as her eyes fluttered open and her tongue ran across her dried lips, still carrying a hint of last night's red pigment. She looked next to her, her eyeline matching up with the covered skin of Roger’s lap.

She sighed, shifting her head to rest on his thighs as her feet dangled off of the bed. One of Roger’s hands came up to softly massage the top of her head, the other against the headboard, behind his neck. She stared at the ceiling, an unreadable expression creeping its way to her features.

“We were jacked up last night.” Roger’s voice cut through the silence they shared, deeper in the late morning than she had heard before.

“Correction, you were jacked up.”

“Whatever.”

They laughed, silence soon taking over once again. Roger sighed, closing his ever tired eyes.

“Are we gonna pay for this?”

She scoffed, inhaling deeply before reaching over to the nightstand, grabbing her carton of cigarettes. He noticed they were the same brand from college, a small smile making its way to his face at the thought.

She first lit hers, then lighting a second one for the man occupying her king sized bed (though she wasn’t even slightly upset by this, quite the opposite). She handed it to him, sticking her own between her lips and sitting up, straddling where her head had been minutes before.

She leaned forward, so close their noses were to the point where they were nearly touching. She took the cigarette from her lips, blowing the smoke to the left of Rog in the direction of the large balcony overlooking Times Square. She turned her attention back to him, though it had never really left, tilting her head.

“Do you regret it?”

“No.” The answer came immediately, no careful consideration or pondering needed.

“Right.” She removed herself from him, standing and taking the sheet with her, letting it cover her like a renaissance dress. She walked over to the balcony, leaning against the frame of the double doors. She took another drag, an adoring smile spreading across her face.

“Then there’s your answer.”

She paused, Roger tilted his head, his brows lifting.

“Of course we will.”

✺🎬✺

if u liked that hot mess pls like and rb!! mwah ily go eat protein and drink water if ur able. xx hj

[biderboy]

You Promised || J.P

a/n - i’m in a bad mood so u can be 2 !

-

it’s not that you couldn’t believe it, because you could. you saw it with your own two eyes, you felt it in the way you hands shook and it felt like all the air was sucked from around you.

you thought it would be okay, you thought things would be fine. you should have known better, the universe was never that kind to you.

you wanted to laugh, even if it made you crazy, you felt like you’d seen it coming for months, for years.

you should have know it would happen now, in the midst of a war, on some saturday afternoon where you weren’t even suppose to be.

it always works that way doesn’t it? when the universe gives you james potter, but never really gives him to you.

cruel joke.

it didn’t matter, maybe you were meant to be there. after months of being on a mission tracking a group of death eaters, it’s the first “get together” you could make it to.

in the middle of a war it is kind of hard to see the people you grew up with.

but you made it, beaten and bloody and mentally scared to a degree, with blood on your hands that you couldn’t tell was yours or your enemies.

you made it.

you couldn’t be sure what to expect. you were hoping everyone was still there, that everyone made it. it’d been a good 5 months, and so much could happen.

and so much did apparently happen.

you reckon it could be your fault, not keeping in touch. it’s not like you could, it probably would have gotten you killed, but you still figured maybe it would stop the sinking feeling in your chest now.

as you stood, hands shaking and tears in your eyes, not from happiness, but a mixture of relief and disbelief.

lily evans stood in front of you, a soft smile on her face was a hand rested on her stomach.

and james potter stood next to her, a smile he used to only reserve for you, spread widely on his face, his own arm wrapped around the obviously pregnant women.

oh. okay.

it took the group a total of 50 seconds to realize you were standing there, and sirius was the first to rush up to you, wild grin on his face.

“y/n! you’re back!!!!” and he engulfed you in a hug, you weakly returned, half to be back in familiar, safe arms.

“i’m back.” and yet you couldn’t stop the voice crack, or the tears that still threatened to fall out.

if sirius noticed, he didn’t say anything, but his arms wrapped around you a bit tighter. as if he was holding you together, and at that point, maybe he was.

remus was there next, small smile and warm hands and a soft whisper of “i’m sorry”

as if the werewolf knew, and it wouldn’t be surprising if he did. he’s the only one who knew about you and james in the first place, and you reckon he’s the only one who really knew how these “missions” went down.

peter was there too, wrapping his arms around you and hugging tightly in a way only peter seemed to do, as if he thought he’d lose you within the next minute.

and for a moment things felt okay, things felt normal. you were home, you were alive, you were loved.

until they came along.

“y/n! we’re so glad your safe!” lily smiled, that wonderfully beautiful smile, she was practically glowing and though you were upset, no bone in your body could ever be mad at her.

you smiled, hugging her gently, minding the bump, “thank you lils”

“hey y/n, glad you’re back okay.” and there he was. still bright eyes, still soft smile that radiated all the stars in the universe.

you felt yourself melt, when he looked at you it felt like it was the only thing that mattered.

but it couldn’t matter anymore, not if the ring on lily’s finger was anything to go by.

“so, what did i miss?” you turned around, not bothering to hug the man, fearing you’d break down in more ways then one.

sirius perked up, puppy like, eager to spew everything you missed, and you listened intently, leaning back against remus on the sofa you both sat on.

“and evans and prongs are having a baby !!!”

yeah, that’s what you figured.

but sirius looked so happy, a light in his eyes you hadn’t seen since the news from regulus hit, and lily’s eyes were so warm and they deserved this, if anything else.

and a baby, a baby! that’s great, despite the way your breath caught in your throat, all the memories and kisses and whispers of praise and plans came flooding in. but you were good at acting, been going on for 6 months and counting, it’s hot so hard to lie once more.

“oh my!! that’s so wonderful! i’m so happy for you guys!” and a wide smile that nobody but maybe remus and peter saw through, and they were sold. case closed.

but james held your gaze, pain in his eyes as if he was the one hurting.

no, it wasn’t fair.

you excused yourself, looking for any reason to escape for 2 minutes. not hearing remus follow you out.

“it’s okay to want to punch him.” you heard from behind you, a voice so solid and real that you almost gasped out a cry.

(5 months alone does things that can’t just be undone.)

“i can’t just punch him moony.” you sighed, looking out towards the sunset, picking at the still dry blood on your hands.

you felt a hand on your back, so familiar you leaned into the werewolf and let a single tear fall from your eye.

because you wanted to punch him, you wanted to scream and yell and make him bleed the way you did for months while he was here fucking around with a redhead.

you wanted to make him hurt, you wanted to make his lungs close up and tears strain in his eyes, you wanted him to desperately claw at his throat and arms in hopes the pain would seep through his fingertips.

you wanted him to feel the earth unravel beneath him, to feel time stop ticking and all the color slowly fade from his view.

you wanted him to feel how you felt right now.

“he promised moony, he swore on his heart.” you brokenly whispered,no longer feeling your own heart beat in your chest, you wondered if it was even still there.

“and he broke it.” he whispered back, you could feel the tension in his shoulders and you smiled, remus was mad. remus was angry. remus probably knew from the moment he first saw the two together, he’d probably been waiting to knock james’ teeth in, and you would gladly let him.

no you wouldn’t, a voice whispered, and you wanted to yank your own lungs from your chest.

the voice was right.

because no matter how much pain he could cause, you still loves james potter.

you still thought about how his eyes shone in the moonlight, and how his hands fit almost perfectly in yours. for months you held onto the whispers and traced the same paths his fingertips once did.

and you loved him so much that you didn’t think twice leaving for the mission, to know james would be safe if you did your part, to know james would wait for you, like he promised.

and he always promised.

in 4th year when you had to go back home for summer, he smiled and held your hand, “we’ll be here for you when you get back.”

in 6th year when you were in the hospital wing, being transported to saint mugos, “i’ll do anything you need.”

when you graduated with tears in your eyes and stuttering breaths, “i’ll be right by your side.”

and when you took that mission, behind closed doors, breaths colliding and souls conjoined, he whispered, “ill wait for you.”

that’s the first promise he broke. maybe, maybe he broke more, but you didn’t want to think about it, couldn’t think about it by the voice that interrupted you.

“moony? can i talk to them?” you felt remus shake his head, but you stopped him.

“what do you want james?”

and remus didn’t leave, no he wouldn’t. unlike some people, he never did.

but you insisted, telling him it was fine even if it wasn’t, that it would only take a few minutes, yet it would take years to mend whatever james broke.

“i just wanted to-“

“if you’re here to say sorry save it, it would be a lie.” you cut off, looking back at your hands.

“y/n i just want you to know i’m glad you’re okay.” he whispered, the same way he used to in the room of requirement, or the latte nights in muggle towns, or sneaking into his kitchen at 4 am.

“yeah.”

it didn’t matter anymore, he was with lily, it was fine. meant to be even. the way he looked at her, the way she looked at him. lily deserved this.

you sat in silence for a few minutes, but the tears were back and the wind was cold now. you couldn’t just sit and pretend you knew why he did it, you didn’t know. the way he looked at you before you left was everything you could ever hope for, like he was saying goodbye to his world. and maybe, he was.

“you promised james.” you whispered, dejected in every way, finally meeting his eyes, they were as beautiful as you remembered, but they weren’t yours to love anymore.

“and i broke it.” he looked out to the setting sun, it was gone now, leaving behind a darkness that wouldn’t fade until early morning.

the sun left, and soon, james turned away, and left too.

[consumeconstantly]

Small Buff Girl Sightings Ch. 5

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | ao3

3:00AM | CoffeeVamp: bb bat update us TheOG: ^^ more info on the situation in paris

3:28AM | Demonspawn: It is difficult to obtain information on Hawkmoth. The butterflies disperse after they are cleansed, and before they land their target, they don’t show up electronically.  Coffee Vamp: o how the mighty have fallen i thought u said u could best me bb boi

3:42AM | Demonspawn: I’d like to see you do better. Coffee Vamp: IS THAT A CHALLENGE Coffee Vamp: ill take u up on that gimme 24 hours and ur going down TheOG: he has had a whole month so dont be too sure of that LadyLady: would you guys SHUT UP its two and some of us have jobs to do Coffee Vamp: cmon babs u luv us dont deny it LadyLady: Don’t make me hunt you down, Tim. Coffee Vamp: oOooO proper punctuation im shaking TheOG: just shut off notifications Babs TheOG: Bruce does Jesus: i don’t think the man has checked this chat in years Coffee Vamp: wdym brucie checks the chat all the time hes just a silent lurker Coffee Vamp: he doesnt even set himself to invisible

3:57AM | Daddy is away. Coffee Vamp: im so glad i have admin privileges imagine if i didnt bruce would have a boring normal nickname like his actual name LadyLady: good lord, why am I even in this chat?? Daddy: You’re supposed to keep them under control. Coffee Vamp: SEE I TOLD U BRUCE IS A SILENT LURKER> THIS. IS. SOLID. PROOF. IN YOUR FACE TheOG: nobody said otherwise Coffee Vamp: also how are the people have you made friends Jesus: Demon spawn? Making friends? Id be less surprised if he told us he has a new fling Coffee Vamp: is j right? Got a winter fling? 

4:12AM | Coffee Vamp: ur lack of a response tells us nothing  TheOG: im sure he’s just adopted his usual icy persona Coffee Vamp: haha hes the bb of so many things Coffee Vamp: bb vamp bb demon spawn ice ice bb Coffee Vamp: getitt im so funny

4:36AM | Coffee Vamp: guys?

“I told you I could get her to write her number on your cup,” Marinette grins with pride.

“And I told you I didn’t want her to.” Damian scowls and kicks a pebble in his path.

“You’re still wearing the clothes I picked out for you,” she points out.

“You told me to wear it. I wore it. I’m not interested in her.” 

Marinette squints at Damian, evaluates whether he’s telling the truth or not. “Huh, you really aren’t interested. I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t wear the other outfit I picked out for you-- that one would have gotten her to ask you out on the spot.”

Damian groans. “We’re going to have to find a new coffee place.”

“Or we could just come when she’s not on shift and run away like mice when we do see her?”

Damian gives her The Look.

“But they have good coffee here,” Marinette whines.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before dressing me up and sending me to my death.”

“It’s not my fault! You only have your parents to blame for your looks.”

It’s true; both of Damian’s parents are good-looking. His whole family is, actually, adopted or not. All of the good looking people he meets are talented and have a tragic life story. Which is the cause and which is the effect, Damian isn’t sure. But it holds true even in Paris. All he has to do is look at Marinette or Adrien, though he’s not a hundred percent sure where the tragedy kicks in for Marinette. Probably the time when she was at odds with Lila, but he hasn’t looked much into the situation. He can even use Lila Rossi as an example. She has even worse color coordination than Damian is, but her features are model worthy. Lila Rossi is also definitely fucked up in ways that Damian doesn’t care to explore.

The effects of Marinette’s well-placed compliments has Damian thinking about himself in a positive manner that he never has before. Bruce is always stingy with praise, and the other senior members of the Justice League of America see him as another Robin that doesn’t need praise because competency comes with the mantle. Dick and Barbara compliment him occasionally, but that’s rarer now that his place is more firmly cemented in the family. Damian doesn’t think he’s ever had someone so willing to genuinely compliment him. Marinette’s compliments extend to more than just his looks, as well. She praises his technological skills as he sets up her website and has complimented him as he helps her out with whatever altercations she inevitably comes across on the streets. If he reveals his skills as Robin, reveals himself as Damian Wayne, will he receive even more praise?

“But since we did buy you that absolute knockout of an outfit, you’re going to have to wear it eventually. So whose heart do you want to steal?”

“I don’t want a relationship,” Damian repeats. They seem like more effort than they’re worth, and he always sees couples fighting and complaining about each other. Plus, they have to make time for each other and his alter ego doesn’t allow for that, though he supposes that he isn't Robin. At least, not right now.

“You don’t need to want a relationship just to flirt with somebody. Who’s it going to be? The intern at the Louvre? My parent’s newest hire? Oooh, how about Nicolette?” Marinette’s voice takes on a more mischievous tone. 

Damian will give Marinette this much: her taste in the aesthetics of people is far from bad. The intern from the Louvre is two hundred pounds of lean muscle with a devil-may-care smile and a deep, belly laugh that makes people laugh with him, but Damian and he don’t have anything in common. Her parent’s new hire is knockout gorgeous, with warm brown eyes, and definitely the kind of girl Damian would have gone for as a one night stand back in Gotham. However, he’s also 98% sure that she has a very possessive boyfriend who stops by the bakery every time she has a shift. Nicolette is considered her college’s belle, and her intense gaze paired with her surprisingly friendly demeanor might have been appealing to Damian if she weren’t ten years older than him. 

“I’m not into any of them,” he says, simply.

“Then who are you into? Surely someone has caught your eye in the past month?” Marinette looks genuinely curious, but her expression shifts into horror. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I never asked your preferences, if I was being insensitive, I’m sorry, I mean I’m pan, but you absolutely don’t have to tell me, it’s your right if you’re not comfortable.”

Damian does look slightly uncomfortable now that she’s looking at him more closely. His arms are crossed over each other, across his chest, and his hair is tousled. Then, he lets out a small laugh, and Marinette melts. “It’s fine, Pigtails. All of the people you listed are attractive, but I’m not attracted to them. I’m more of a personality guy, though I can’t say that personality has stopped me from things more than dates before.”

He’s had his fair share of hook-ups and makeout sessions in the past when feeling particularly frustrated with something that wasn’t going his way, though his primary method of relief is through sparring. Short missions and one night stands go fairly well together; he doesn’t ever have to deal with people wanting long term relationships, and even if they do, he’s gone before they know it. So far, he hasn’t hooked up with anyone in Paris, but then again, he’s only been here for a month and this is a long term mission. Whatever time he’s not with Marinette or at school is dedicated to piecing together the mystery that is the Miraculous and trying to figure out Hawkmoth’s identity. 

“Oh,” Marinette continues to blush.

She’s clearly too embarrassed to bring up any other topic, so Damian decides that he’ll shoot the same conversation topic back at her. Marinette is attractive, and people she meets ask for her numbers and dates often enough. She’ll accept the former if they aren’t a total creep, but she always turns down requests for dates.

“And you? Why aren’t you out there questing for love? No crushes or significant others that I need to beat off with a stick?”

This does manage to lessen her flush. She frowns, turns something over in her mind. 

“No crushes right now, no. I used to have a huge crush on Adrien just a year ago. He’s such a sweet person, but we don’t see eye to eye on important matters.” And also not into sex, either. Even physical affection hits him the wrong way sometimes, which makes Marinette worry even further for his well being with Lila’s constant touches. Still, he hasn’t said anything, and Lila hasn’t done anything more than grasp his arm or shoulders every now and then, to reassure the class that yes, they are the golden couple. Marinette also suspects that he is very unwilling to talk about the whole situation in general, and it’s not as though they’re super close.

Of course she had a crush on Adrien. Damian can see it now, Marinette looking at Adrien with her big blue eyes, her lashes fluttering when she gets close to him. Stuttering when she gets embarrassed or when she gets close to him. It makes his lungs constrict, but he’s not sure why.

“As for past relationships, there’s only really Luka. We had a pretty good run, but he’s out of the country, touring. He wanted to try long distance, but I didn’t really want that. But he’s respectful-- there’s no need to beat him off with a stick or anything.”

“I’m surprised a pretty girl like you doesn’t have more suitors,” Damian says, stepping over a crack in the sidewalk as they walk towards the park.

Marinette gags. “There are some other people who have been interested, but I wouldn’t exactly consider them relationship material. If you’re going after a girl just because she looks exotic, that’s sort of nasty. I guess I’m just unlucky in love.”

“At least you’re not as bad off as Ladybug is,” Damian jokes.

She looks at him strangely. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, first there was that creepy sculptor who must have been twice her age, then there’s Chat Noir who keeps flirting with her despite her requests not to, plus all of the random love akumas. I’m not even going to talk about the hordes of guys who chase after her, trying to get a date just because she’s a superhero. It’s not even like she can kick them between the legs because she has an image to uphold and all that.” He smirks, nudges her with his arm. “I’m surprised you haven’t done that with some of your stalkers.”

“Oh. You’re right, huh. Though, I don’t think Chat Noir has actually flirted for a while now.”  Chat Noir has been very subdued as of late, and it makes Ladybug worry.

Marinette feels uncomfortable with the way the conversation has shifted. How does Damian know about all of these past akuma attacks? As far as Marinette is aware, most information about anything Miraculous related is difficult to get a hold of abroad, largely because the Miraculous try to hide their existence as best they can, and partially because Mayor Bourgeois doesn’t want word to get out that he hasn’t flushed a supervillain terrorist out even though he’s had three years to do it.

“Copycat happened three years ago.” It’s a question, almost.

“I figure I might as well keep up with the heroes of Paris. I’m here and they’re interesting.” Damian figures this is as good a time as any to bring up his interest in Hawkmoth. Marinette has been nothing but helpful and she’s definitely the kind of person whose heart is in the right place. Not to mention that she’s definitely smart and seems impartial; the one time he asked her about her thoughts on the heroes, he found out that she didn’t see them as perfect. She was able to critique Ladybug in full, which seemed pretty odd considering the rest of Paris seemed to have nothing but glowing praise for the heroine. “You’ve had some awful luck with akumas yourself. Weird how Ladybug didn’t show up when you got kidnapped by Evillustrator. One of the only times she didn’t show up for an akuma.”

“And what happened to the other heroes? It’s mostly Ladybug now. She must be in an awful state with her civilian life.” He looks off to the park, occasionally flicking his attention back Marinette’s face, evaluating her expression.

She catches his eyes and he swiftly looks away, looking almost nervous. Marinette stiffens. He knows, he knows, he knows, he can’t know. But how? How does he know that she’s Ladybug? She hasn’t let anything slip around him. She's been careful not to. Everything she’s ever said about Ladybug has been brief and curt, taking on an almost angry tone.

“If you’re so interested in Parisian heroes, I’m sure you saw the press conference Ladybug and Chat Noir gave last year about why the other heroes would be showing up less often.” Marinette keeps her voice carefully neutral. She needs to play this safe. She’s probably over reacting-- she’s been on edge with Hawkmoth sending out an akuma attack nearly every single day for the past few months.

Damian shakes his head. “It didn’t seem like good reasoning. Ladybug and Chat Noir are too untrained. They haven’t beat two villains in three years. They should let someone else take over.” 

Marinette has come across a good number of Ladybug and Chat Noir haters throughout her time. Those who dislike the Parisian heroes often make the exact same arguments Damian is now. That they’re not fast enough. That they should have taken down Hawkmoth and Mayura already. This is nothing new to her, though it does hurt hearing it from Damian, for some reason. She can’t even argue with most of the points he’s brought up. Going mostly solo was because of her own, selfish reasons. She really should have beaten Hawkmoth and Mayura by now. 

“The only thing they have going for them right now is that they’re keeping their Miraculous out of Hawkmoth’s hands.” She pretends that the reason why Chat Noir doesn’t show up to battle is to ensure that Hawkmoth can’t get both of the Miraculous in one fell swoop. It feels hopeless to fight villain after villain without any movement forwards. Her mind wanders to the increasing frequency of akumas and smiles, sardonically. “Some people think it’s only a matter of time until Ladybug and Chat Noir lose.”

“Hawkmoth almost seems to be the better strategist.” The two of them pass store front after store front. “Do you ever wonder what they look like, under the mask? Who they are?”

Marinette stares at the concrete underneath her feet. Hawkmoth, the better strategist? Laughable, and entirely incorrect. Even the people who hate Ladybug admit that her plans almost always work out, and that her plans are second to none. Really the only person who can possibly think that Hawkmoth is a better strategist is--

She can’t think like that. Damian is her friend. He’s just curious about Paris. Her lack of sleep and increase in paranoia re making her imagine things that are impossible. Besides, Damian isn’t on her list of suspects-- he told her he’s only been here for a short time, and Hawkmoth’s Miraculous definitely has a limited range. It’s a real pity that the world of Miraculous makes concrete evidence hard to come by, otherwise, Marinette likes to think Hawkmoth would have been behind bars already. 

“No,” she lies. Hawkmoth haunts her dreams and every waking hour. She spends hours and hours on theories and scouring out information and people who fit the clues she’s painstakingly pieced together. “Not really.”

Damian’s eyes are a piercing green, and for a moment, Marinette thinks she stops breathing. “Is that so? I’m really interested in who Ladybug is under the mask. I’d love the opportunity to talk to her in person, especially about her Miraculous. The powers she has are… very interesting.”

No. There’s no way that Damian can be Hawkmoth, right? This is all just her paranoia speaking. Damian is just a foreigner who is interested in super heroes. It’s no biggie. Still, she can’t shake off the idea that there’s more to Damian than meets the eye. The way he walks-- no, prowls-- commands respect. Marinette can tell that he knows how to fight, and knows how to fight well. He’s very good at finding information on people-- she sent a whole case file to her on Renee and his situation with his mother within twenty four hours of going into the precinct, complete with video evidence Marinette knows should have been impossible to procure without hacking-- and keeps up with her critiques on Ladybug and Chat Noir’s techniques like he’s watched their battles over and over again. He remembers akuma battles Marinette has half forgotten, because they happened so long ago.

She stares up at him, hands shoved in the pockets of the jacket she chose for him when they went on their wardrobe makeover. Damian is surprisingly wealthy; he purchased anything she even glanced at with passing approval. He looks straight forward, apparently waiting for some response from her. Just because Damian is her friend, doesn’t mean she can immediately expunge him from her list of suspects. So far, she has taken all of Damian’s words at face value. It didn’t matter to her that he rarely talks about his family or his life before Paris. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t brought her to his home during all of the weeks that they’ve been hanging out together. Really, Marinette just figured that he had a rocky relationship with his family, and that he may have been on the poorer side and was embarrassed to show her where he lived. But clearly. Damian is well off enough to afford brand name clothes without batting an eye. Things aren’t adding up. All of the red flags that she’s blatantly ignored start to crop up in her head.

The book on the species of butterflies that akumas are made of, tucked under his arm. The way he showed up after every single akuma attack when she rarely saw him in the area before or during it. His knowledge of the three languages that form the basis of the Miraculous Tome-- Mandarin, Arabic, and English.

If he is Hawkmoth, what sort of emotions would he be feeling right now? Some sort of euphoria, maybe, realizing that he could get infinitely closer to Ladybug when she is Marinette. Anticipation, too. Has Marinette been hanging out with a super villain for the past month? Has she really come to the point where she can call a supervillain her best friend?

Marinette takes another look at Damian’s outfit. Master Fu said that the Miraculous Hawkmoth owns is in the shape of a brooch. Marinette sees no such object on Damian, which could either mean that he’s not Hawkmoth or that he’s just been taking it off whenever he’s with her. She’s really hoping it’s not the second option.

She needs to gather her thoughts, make a plan on how to proceed. When she’s sure that Damian isn’t looking, Marinette sets off the ringtone that is saved for her Maman’s texts and calls. This catches Damian’s attention, and she waves looks up from her phone as though she’s responding. 

“Maman wants me to do a delivery. If you’re looking for more information on the whole superhero situation in Paris, I can get you Alya’s number. She runs the Ladyblog-- I’m sure she’d be glad to talk with you.” Alya also has some of the worst conspiracy theories that Marinette has ever seen. She doesn’t often keep abreast of what the Ladyblog’s portrayal of Ladybug is, but back when Marinette and Alya were friends, she was subjected to wild theories that made her stomach nauseous with how little logic there was. Which means that if-- if-- Damian is actually Hawkmoth, he might be thrown off by what she says.

“I’ll see you on Monday? Jagged texted me last night and wants me to change the embroidery on his commission.” This isn’t exactly a lie; Jagged wants one of the smaller details to be changed, but it certainly won’t take as long as she’s suggesting. Marinette hopes that it’s enough of an excuse to get Damian off her back for the rest of today and tomorrow while she reevaluates her game plans and life choices. 

Damian waves her off. “I don’t think that Ladyblogger girl knows anymore than I do. She’s of no help to me. I’ll see you on Monday.”

#

Marinette’s reaction to Damian’s questions are weird. There’s an underlying tension that she exuded before they parted ways, and he’s still thinking about it a day later.

Marinette, who he always finds near an akuma attack right after it occurs. Marinette, who is emotionally and physically superior to most other Parisians. Marinette, who hasn’t been akumatized in a class full of idiots and other victims. Marinette, who doesn’t like Ladybug even though she seems like a fairly competent and kind hero, despite the fact that she hasn’t caught Hawkmoth yet. Marinette, who rarely talks about akumas despite all of the time he spends with her, which is highly unusual because even people he only briefly meets manage to slip in something about akumas into the conversation. Damian feels like there must be some sort of connection between Marintte and the akuma situation that he’s not getting, but it’s eluding him.

He sits down with his laptop in his apartment and looks up information about Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She’s definitely just as talented as he suspected; in her ninth year of schooling, she won a Gabriel competition, participated in a music video of Clara Nightingale’s, and collaborated with Jagged Stone on an album cover. So that was how she met him-- he wondered, but never asked. There are also a few instagram posts that have tagged her as a good samaritan and a few articles that detail a small, asian girl who’s going around Paris helping random people that are in need.

The weird things that Damian finds are contained in her school records. She’s apparently in very good company with her IQ, but what’s more interesting is all the dates that she is tardy or absent from school. They line up perfectly with all of the dates that akumas appear. He feels dread gather in his stomach. 

A few more searches seem to cement his growing suspicions. Around the same time that Marinette obtained a truce with Lila matched up with when theorists believed that the Italian girl started working with Hawkmoth. He reads the instagrams and tweets of her classmates from the first year that Hawkmoth arrived, which talk about how excellent Marinette is at calming them down and guiding them to a better place. He also reads the posts of Chloe Bourgeois and Alya Cesaire and the articles about Marinette and Evillustrator that tell a slightly different story-- that Marinette is capable of manipulating others into more unpleasant situations.

Damian jolts. There is an incoming call from his father. 

“Are updates on Paris, Damian?” 

Should he give them a clue to his growing suspicions that Marinette is Hawkmoth? No, he can’t tell them until he gathers more information. 

“No,” he says. “Information about Hawkmoth and the Miraculous are hard to come by.”

There’s a sigh and what sounds like the rustling of papers from the other side. “I figured. Tim and Barbara can’t find anything over here, either, but the Justice League is worried. They want results.”

“The Justice League and I agreed that having Robin make an appearance would be beneficial. Gain Ladybug and Chat Noir’s trust, or find Hawkmoth. Information might come easier with your alter ego.”

“All right.” 

Another pause. He and his father have always had an awkward relationship. Bruce didn’t know of his existence until he was ten, and by that time, the most formative years of Damian’s life had already passed. Bruce Wayne may be many things, but good at dealing with children, he is not. Even after adopting so many children, he doesn’t know how to raise a child. Damian and his brothers have all raised themselves, with Bruce only stepping in when one of them is really going off the rails.

“Is everything else going well in Paris? School is good?”

“School is fine.” Damian wonders whether he should tell his father about Marinette. About the girl who is kind and capable and scarily efficient at dispatching criminals for a citizen and-- he can’t think about her like that. He decides against telling his father about her. She might be Hawkmoth, after all, and confirming her existence to his father means that he’s denying that possibility. “Gotham?”

“Nothing out of the usual. A few run-ins with the Joker.”

Another silence. The lapses in conversation aren’t awkward, but Damian thinks of the playful banter Marinette has with her parents and frowns. 

“Goodbye, Father.”

“Goodnight, Damian.”

Damian looks around at his empty apartment. There is nothing in it, except for his suitcase and a few pieces of furniture. It’s nothing like the manor, where he knows that Tim is up at all hours slaving away on another project that Damian rarely gets to see, or that Jason is in the training room with Dick joining him occasionally. He can’t pick a fight with Tim or have Dick try to mediate the conflicts between himself and Jason. No nightly patrols with three or four people talking over the comms, or near instantaneous backup when he gets into a tight spot. There is no Alfred or Barbara or Cassandra or Bruce here. Only Damian. 

He looks down at his laptop, at the various information and images of Marinette that he has up on his screen. In good conscience, he can’t continue being friends with her. Not with the possibility that she is the person he’s trying to hunt down. 

He remembers her saying that being lonely is different than being alone. 

Damian is lonely.

#

Patrol is a necessary evil. 

Ladybug doesn’t hate patrol. She’s not very fond of it, though. It cuts into time that she could be spending sleeping or designing or anything else, really. In the beginning, it started as a way to figure out how everything worked under the guise of the dark and without the constant threat of an akuma hanging over head. Then, it progressed into disproving the theory about Ladybug’s age, because civilians aren’t inclined to believe that a teenage girl who has school the next day would patrol every day in the early morning. Now, it shows the Parisians how devoted Ladybug is-- that’s something that she’s struggled with ever since withdrawing the Miraculous from all of the part time heroes-- and lets Marinette blow off any steam that she has. 

Right now, Marinette needs to blow off a lot of steam. Still, even as Ladybug, as much as Marinette wants to scream to high hell and back about how she’s been friends-- very close friends, she’d dare to say-- with the same person who has been terrorizing Paris for years, she can’t. If she screams, there will be media coverage on it, and she doesn’t want to deal with what the press would write up some article about how Ladybug was overworked and needed to bring back the other heroes, or that Ladybug wasn’t mentally sound enough to take care of Paris, she should just give up the Miraculous, or that Ladybug’s scream was [insert some poetic nonsense that English teachers wax about for hours even though the author never intended the audience to read that deeply into it].

Marinette doesn’t want to admit it, but she’s gotten close to Damian. She’s as close to him as she is with Kagami, Luka, Jagged and Penny. Damian knows that she’s MDC. He knows her hopes and aspirations. He knows her family, knows the majority of her friends, and knows what’s important to her. It will be so easy for him to tear her apart now. Marinette isn’t sure what Hawkmoth is waiting for, but she almost hopes that he’ll get it over with sooner rather than later.

What will Hawkmoth do first? Go after the website that he helped her make, probably. Cut off the financial support that she could use to run away and create another identity. Then, he’ll go after her friends, few and far as they may be. Renee next. Her family, last. She wonders who Mayura is, if he is Hawkmoth. She hasn’t seen anyone that’s close to him. Then again, Damian reveals next to nothing about himself. She’s never even seen where he lives.

There’s a shadow on the rooftops. 

God, of course Hawkmoth would send out an akuma today. He knows how horrible her mental state must be. There’s no way he wouldn’t take advantage of that.

She yoyos over to the shadow, not close enough to strike or apprehend, but close enough to easily give chase without the akuma being able to give her the slip.

“Ladybug,” the akuma says.

“Cut the crap. We all know you want the Miraculous, Hawkmoth. Let’s get to it.” The shadow steps forward where a street lamp illuminates its costume, and once again, she is assaulted by the barrage of colors on her eyes. After seeing how awful Damian’s color coordination was, it’s easy to come to terms with the awful designs of all of his costumes. Still, she’s surprised that the boy who dresses in the same outfit every day creates such outlandish costumes for all of his minions. 

The akuma frowns, tenses. 

“I’m not Hawkmoth,” it insists. “I’m Robin, a vigilante from Gotham. I’ve come to learn more about the current situation and aid you in taking Hawkmoth down.”

 Ladybug scoffs. She’s not sure what this akuma’s tactic is, but none of the others have tried to lie to her so blatantly about their identity. And ripping off an identity? That is a new low, even for Hawkmoth. She’s sure that the real Robin didn’t agree to this, and if she were close with the vigilante, maybe she could get him to throw a lawsuit or two at Hawkmoth once he was in custody, just for kicks.

Robin the akuma scrambles, apparently looking for something that can verify his identity. 

Ladybug strikes. There’s no pride in striking an opponent when they are distracted, but it’s a means to an end. If Damian is dumb enough to send out an akuma confused about its identity tonight of all nights-- a night where Ladybug is distressed and it would be all too easy to take advantage of her-- then she’s going to take advantage of it.

It’s easy to bind the akuma. Startlingly easy. The akuma is different tonight, then. His powers have something to do with close contact, maybe? Ladybug looks on his person for things that could be the point of akumatization, eyes flitting from Robin’s waistband to his mask.

She comes to an unpleasant conclusion. The measurements and the coloring are a perfect match. Hawkmoth has come to meet her in person.

“Damian,” Ladybug hisses. 

Damian’s eyes widen, like he doesn’t know how she’s pieced together his identity. How stupid does he think she is? He’s been dropping hints constantly. Information a transfer to Paris shouldn’t know. Never telling Marinette anything personal. Always being near an akuma attack when it happens. It’s almost like he wanted her to figure out his identity.

“How did you know?” 

“Please, Hawkmoth, did you really think that Marinette couldn’t connect the dots? You must have thought awfully little of her if you thought that your constant appearances near all of the akuma and questions about the Miraculous didn’t lead me to your identity.”

“Hawkmoth? Ladybug, I’m not Hawkmoth, I’m Robin.”

“And I’m the queen of England. Renounce your Miraculous now, Hawkmoth. Or I’ll beat you until you detransform and take it from you.” 

Damian looks confused before his face contorts to an expression of resignation. He recognizes a cold fury in her eyes that is distinct to people who won’t give up until they get their way, and there’s really no other way around this right now. He should have brought his comm with him, but he wasn’t expecting to meet Ladybug tonight; he just wanted to assess the situation as Robin, to get out from his apartment for a second. Rookie mistake. 

True to her word, Ladybug beats Damian unconscious and also until he’s black and blue. She’ll be lying if she didn’t say she took out some of her fury from the past years on him.

But here’s the thing; Damian doesn’t detransform. He stays in his god-awful costume that has the same disgusting shade of mustard yellow as that one top Damian owns. That’s not what’s supposed to happen. When Miraculous users faint, they detransform because it takes a sort of mental awareness to handle the powers bestowed upon them. Is it different because Damian is an akuma? Is there some sort of Miraculous bylaw that if a Miraculous user gets akumatized, they get to stay in their alternate form? Oh wait, that’s right, he’s an akuma, not Hawkmoth right now.

Ladybug stumbles forward, breaking all of the weapons that are on his belt, taking off his mask and breaking that as well. No akuma comes out. She tries his gloves, then his boots. She pats him down, seeing if there’s anything she missed. She rips his suit, too. Nothing. There’s no brooch in his personal effects either.

What is she supposed to do now? 

Seeing no alternative, Ladybug picks Damian up and yoyos back to Tom and Sabine’s Boulangerie to safely detransform and figure out what the fuck is going on.

He’s not Hawkmoth, is the conclusion Marinette comes to after a side by side comparison of pictures of the vigilante and Damian. The horrifying conclusion: the person lying on the floor of her bedroom is actually Robin, the vigilante from Gotham. 

Marinette knows it’s better to err on the side of caution, but she still buries her head in her hands in embarrassment. How can she have gotten him so wrong? She really needs to get better at reading people, because deciding that random civilians are Hawkmoth clearly has not paid off. 

She also cannot believe that the Justice League has decided to step in now, and with a sidekick from America, of all things--Marinette is pretty sure that she sent the videos to the European branch. It must have been three years since her first notification to them. She contacted them immediately after Stoneheart, and again, after Syren when she was distraught at the death that surrounded her. With no response, there was nothing she could do. She has to start relying on herself and her own skills. 

Ladybug only contacted them once more, after Heroes’ Day. At that point, Ladybug had been thinking for a while that someone who was naturally superpowered or someone with a high grade of intelligence-- like the heroes affiliated with the Justice League-- would do more harm than good if they were allowed in the city. After the devastation of her teammates being akumatized, and the nearly week long battle that ensued, she was certain that she could barely fight her teammates, let alone trained professionals. So with shaky hands and red rimmed eyes, she said to please disregard her earlier messages; the situation in Paris wasn’t that bad, and Ladybug could handle it. 

Damian groans. Marinette jumps; he is waking up far earlier than she anticipated. She wants to transform back into Ladybug. Being in her spots gives her a pseudo sense of security. First, though, she has to restrain him. Even though he isn’t Hawkmoth, she’s not sure whether he’s a threat or not. She makes quick work of it, using the thickest zip ties that she has on hand and restraining his arms and legs.

She doesn’t get the chance to transform back into Ladybug, but that’s just as well, because at the end of the day, Marinette is the foundation of anything that makes Ladybug a hero to the public. Damian opens his eyes almost immediately after she has finished restraining him, taking in his surroundings and the person in front of him.

“Marinette? Where’s Ladybug?” No questions of how he got there; Ladybug can clearly carry her own weight and more. No questions as to why there are zip ties cutting into his wrists and ankles; he has seen too many of Marinette’s victims on the streets.

“What do you mean, where’s Ladybug?” Marinette is right in front of him. She might not have the suit on, but at the end of the day, she does have the Ladybug Miraculous, which means she’s Ladybug through and through, and Damian must know that. Otherwise, there’s no real reason for Robin to be spending so much time with Marinette. The fact that she feels more real and true to herself as Marinette than as Ladybug probably means nothing to him.

“She knocked me out on a rooftop. Didn’t know that you two knew each other personally. I’m not Hawkmoth, by the way.” He twitches, then realizes that he’s been tied up. “Why’d she leave me with you?”

So he doesn’t know that she’s also Ladybug? This whole thing keeps getting more confusing. Still, the less people that know about her alter ego, the better. Marinette will keep him in the dark. She attributes his blatant misunderstanding to the identity concealment magic of the Miraculous. It’s powerful stuff. If it didn’t exist, she’s sure she would have found concrete evidence as to who Hawkmoth is by now. 

“She asked me to assess whether you were a threat or not. Whether or not she casts the Miraculous Cure is contingent on my response.”

“Ladybug wants you to assess whether I’m a threat or not? Why’d she leave a possible super villain with a civilian?”

“I help Ladybug out with many things.” Her voice turns to clinical detachment. She uses this method to dissociate as Ladybug when things get overwhelming. Assess the situation. Get in, deakumatize, get out. Marinette needs to distance herself. It’s bad enough that the situation is this convoluted, but she doesn’t need Damian to doubt Ladybug’s capabilities as well. “Ladybug knows that you’re not Hawkmoth now, and she knows that I can handle myself with any run of the mill bad guy, even if they are a supposed vigilante.”

“Tell me, Robin,” Marinette spits the name like a curse, “Why should I tell Ladybug that you’re not a threat? That you are who you say you are?”

In all honesty, all Marinette wants to do is knock Damian out again so she can collect her thoughts. She’s not sure how she should address his presence as Robin in Paris and is still reeling from the whiplash of thinking he was Hawkmoth only for him to turn into a foreign vigilante. Next thing she knows, he’ll tell her that his name isn’t even Damian Grayson. Well, now that she thinks about it, he’s definitely not. After this encounter finishes, she’ll look up Damian and Gotham and see what she gets.

He looks flustered, like he never expected anybody to question his identity or presence. It’s laughable, really. Marinette doubts that the Justice League actually sent him; he’s probably here to explore on his own. That means he’ll only be a pain in the ass to deal with. Maybe she needs to get into contact with the Justice League again, if only just so she can deport Robin with more ease. 

“I can call Batman,” he says.

Marinette doesn’t think this is a very good solution. There’s no way for her to prove that the person on the other side actually is Batman and not some actor. But after racking her brain, she can’t come up with a much better solution. It’s not like Robin has any superpowers that she can request to see, and she doesn’t have a direct line to anybody from the Justice League.

“Fine. Call Batman.”

“It’s in the pocket near on my right side.” Marinette doesn’t bother going closer to him. She destroyed everything on him earlier, in case it was the akuma’s vessel. Ladybug thought she came across a phone, but now she’s glad she smashed it and left it on that random rooftop. He probably has some sort of tracker on his phone. In any case, Marinette thinks it’s weird for a vigilante to have a phone on them while on the rooftops. Shouldn’t he have an earpiece or something? 

“Your phone was destroyed by Ladybug. Tell me the number to call. I’ll put it on speaker.” Marinette isn’t sure if the number he’ll have her call will be some sort of secure connection or direct line that is only accessible through Damian’s phone, but she doesn’t particularly care because the Miraculous Communicators are exactly that. Miraculous. Master Fu assured her that all communications were private and impossible to crack unless they also had a Miraculous. Which is why she’s using the Miraculous Communicator to call Batman.

Damian winces, then speaks into the offered phone. 

“Batman, it’s Robin. I need to verify my identity in order to proceed.”

“Are you with Ladybug?”

So he is on a mission, then, and not just playing hooky. If Batman is involved, Marinette has no doubt the rest of the Justice League will follow soon. This will be a dreadfully unpleasant call.

“I’m making it a video call,” Marinette says. “And no, he’s not with Ladybug. I’m Ladybug’s point of contact, and she doesn’t take kindly to people encroaching on her territory without permission.”

“Robin, what happened?” Batman isn’t accepting her video request.

Marinette cuts off whatever Damian is about to say. “Damian was suspicious; I reported his activities to Ladybug and she believed that he could be Hawkmoth. Then, she caught him on the roofs and took him back to my place after verifying that he wasn’t Hawkmoth. Video call, Batman. I’d like to see that you are who you say you are, before I send Robin back to the states.”

“She knows your civilian identity? Two people know that you’re Robin?”

“Turn your video on. If you can’t prove that you are who Damian says you are, Ladybug and I will do everything in our powers to deport him and make sure that the Justice League is not allowed in Paris again. Ladybug said that she doesn’t need any unknowns in her city, and I’ve been hoping Robin came here of his own volition. It sounds like that isn’t the case.”

Marinette thinks that Batman curses in English, but she’s not sure. Fluent though Marinette may be, she is not well versed in curses, colloquialisms, or American memes. The camera turns on. It’s Batman, or at the very least, an actor wearing a very good knock off costume.

It’s annoying that Marinette can’t see his eyes. There’s some white film where his eyes should be, and the fact that his cowl covers more than half of his face isn’t doing her any favors in letting her read his facial expression. She moves herself so that Batman can see both her and Robin.

“Why is Robin restrained?”

“Like I said: he was suspicious. I’m not taking any chances.”

A moment of silence.

“How do you want me to prove my identity?” 

That’s good. He’s not asking who she is, though she’s sure that there are cameras pointing at the screen on Batman’s end, running facial analysis and background checks on her. The Miraculous magic will ensure that any connections between her and Ladybug will not come to light. Other than her identity as Ladybug, Marinette has nothing to hide.

“If you’re Batman, then you should have access to the League’s calls, European and otherwise. Play me the last video that Ladybug sent you. I know what she said.” She spares a glance at Damian. His jaw is tight, but when he looks at her, she finds what looks like regret. It’s not entirely Damian’s fault. A mission is a responsibility, and Marinette understands that in order to be a hero or vigilante, one must be willing to do anything to accomplish the mission. Really, she’s only Ladybug because she feels that heavy weight of the words duty and responsibility on her shoulders. Fu’s fault.

“Behave. If you try something, I’ll knock you out.” Marinette sets the communicator on her desk and eyes him. The zipties are so tight around his arms and legs that he is bleeding. Marinette feels a flash of sympathy, then pushes it away. It was his fault for-- why was he at fault, again? 

“I have the video.” Batman sounds even peakier than when they started the call. He plays the video.

“Justice League. This is Ladybug. I rescind my requests for help; I can take care of Paris with my own team. Any help from you at this point would be a detriment and could potentially harm the citizens of Paris. Hawkmoth manipulates strong emotions, and I don’t need to handle a metahuman or tactical genius to gain more power to wreak havoc on my city. I will not contact you with any further requests for assistance.”

It’s an awful video. Marinette had to wait a day after the Heroes’ week fiasco just so her eyes wouldn’t be red. At least her voice doesn’t waver in it. There’s a conviction in the whole video that was unique to that moment. 

Marinette looks at Batman, then at Robin. 

“Clearly the Justice League refused to listen. Ladybug doesn’t want or need your help at this point in time. Why are you here?”

“The Justice League is at fault for not paying attention to Ladybug’s other videos. But Mayor Bourgeois and President Macron can only cover such alarming incidents for so long. Ladybug and her… team clearly need help in order to find and take down Hawkmoth, so once the American branch of the Justice League found out half a year ago, we started to investigate.” Batman speaks in lieu of Damian. Marinette briefly wonders if Damian knows who Batman is under the mask. She bets he does. They’re probably close, what with how worried Batman sounds. 

“What makes you think that the Justice League is any better equipped to handle this situation? Ladybug and her team have been fighting for the past three years and resolved every akuma with no help from you. She needed your help in earlier years. Now she doesn’t.”

“Exactly; it’s been three years and she still hasn’t caught Hawkmoth.”

“You say that like the Justice League doesn’t have a team with more wealth and manpower than Ladybug does that’s been looking into Hawkmoth and the Miraculous for the past half year and clearly has not found any reasonable leads. Ladybug has only been actively looking for Hawkmoth for the past two years, not three. The police handled the first year, not that you’ve done any homework on the situation. Thought that a field agent would help your chances?” 

There is fire in Marinette’s stomach. Batman sounds so dismissive of all of the work that she’s been doing. It’s been hard on her; she doesn’t have the support that she needs and doesn’t have the experience or expertise to hunt down Hawkmoth on her own. She trained briefly under Master Fu to learn spells and ways to expand her powers as Ladybug, but that was an equivalent exchange: she no longer trusts that other holders won’t be akumatized. Her growing cynicism and physical training from Maman came at the expense of Chat Noir; after the whole Lila incident in her first year as Ladybug, she found out that Chat Noir and Adrien were one and the same. And Gabriel Agreste is not afraid to use his son until Adrien is stretched far too thin, which forced Marinette to nearly bench her partner.

“Three years,” Batman says again.

“If the Justice League can’t figure it out nearly unlimited resources and funding in half a year-- both ordinary and super human-- then clearly it isn’t a question of time. It’s a question of capability. Get off your high horse, Batman. You haven’t given me any reasons why Ladybug and I shouldn’t deport Robin here, and you’re definitely not making a good case as to why she shouldn’t go to Mayor Bourgeois and France’s president to ensure that the Justice League and its affiliates and ban hero travel into Paris. Bourgeois already doesn’t want information on it’s supervillain situation to get out.” 

“Marinette,” Damian pleads.

As Robin and as Damian, he doesn’t pose a threat. He hasn’t been helpful, but he certainly hasn’t messed with the status quo for the month that he’s been here. Still, he is a liability. If he stays in Paris, he is the gateway for the other members of the Justice League to fly in and try to commandeer the fragile balance that she has found. She can’t afford for something like that to happen.  

“You’re not any better, Robin. Why did you even hang around me? Thought I was a threat?” Her eyes narrow in realization. It makes sense why he decided to hang out with her, despite his initial cold front. He was playing a role.“You thought I was Hawkmoth.”

His silence is an agreement.

“We just want to help,” Damian says, and against her better judgement, Marinette believes him. 

Her shoulders round, and Marinette sighs. She can’t truly begrudge Damian for that train of thought, not when she believed the same about him. She’s been a little harsh on them so far, in part due to old resentment that they never responded to her in that first, awful year when she needed the help. 

There’s a dull tiredness that comes with knowing someone who she considered one of her closest friends suspected her of being a supervillain, though she did believe the same of him, so maybe they’re even. It still hurts, though. It hurts like when Alya decided that Marinette was mean-hearted enough to stop the members of their class from reaching their full potential. It hurts like when Marinette finally realized that she couldn’t repair their friendship, not to what it used to be. It hurts like when she looked around the classroom and realized that she couldn’t talk to anyone there. It hurts like when Marinette decided that she couldn’t risk helping her friends the way she wanted to. 

“What kind of help can you offer us? We don’t need any more of you to come out here.” Resources are nice. More money to fund therapy programs around town won’t hurt. Master Fu doesn’t help on that part. Really, he doesn’t help at all. Even though she has Chat Noir and had a team, she often feels like it’s herself against the world. Some days, she reaches up to her earrings and feels an aching emptiness, like there’s something more to the Miraculous that’s been sealed away.

“We can give you resources. Money, connections, experience. Robin is good with technology. He can help you track down where Hawkmoth is.”

Marinette’s laugh is bitter. “Sure, he can try, but the butterflies Hawkmoth sends out aren’t visible by the normal human eye or electronically until they’ve found their mark. Once they’re purified, they’re just normal butterflies, and they go off in random directions.”

“Normal human eye? It sounds like there are exceptions.” Damian readjusts himself. He has fidgeted his way into an uncomfortable looking seiza position, where his ankles are bleeding. 

“A true holder can see the butterflies at all times.”

Marinette also decides to throw them a bone so there’s no questions as to why a mere civilian is working with Ladybug. “That’s why Ladybug recruited me. I was Multimouse.”

Multimouse was in the file that Damian sent his father, but he asks, just to make sure. “The one that can split itself?”

“That’s correct. I guess now is as good a time as any for the two of you to get your questions answered.”

“Why are you the point of civilian contact instead of any of the other more frequently used heroes? Didn’t you appear only once?” Damian avoids looking Marinette in the eyes, and that makes her feel slightly better. He’s ashamed of his actions. Good. 

“Ladybug said that the other hero’s civilian forms were either compromised or not in a good position.”

“Ladybug knows who all the holders are.” Batman speculates. He looks less tense now that Damian is no longer tied up, but his voice remains gravelly and distrubed. Maybe that’s what he sounds like all the time.  “Who else knows? Do you?” 

“Only Ladybug knows.” Marinette lives in half truths. She’s not sure that they’re much better than lies, but they’re all she has. Secrecy is the only thing Master Fu has sincerely taught her.

“Why have all the other heroes disappeared?” 

“Ladybug said that it was too dangerous for someone who could be akumatized to hold a Miraculous. Rena Rage, Shell Shock, Queen Wasp-- they were all frighteningly powerful akumas. It’s also why Chat Noir has been showing up less and less; his home life is not the best, and she’s trying her best to ensure that he doesn’t get akumatized.”

“She’s not worried for herself or,” Damian’s eyes flick to Marinette, away from Batman. “For you?” 

“She knows that both of us are good at dealing with stress. We have our own methods of coping.” She looks at Damian, her mouth tightening into a frown. “If you want to stay in Paris, I’ll cut you a deal. We can work together for two weeks, and if we don’t get any results, you have to leave and the Justice League must promise that they won’t interfere again.”

“Two weeks isn’t enough time,” Damian objects.

“If you don’t think it’s enough time, just leave now. I’ll say now that I’m only willing to work with you during the night. That’s the time I work on Miraculous related stuff now, anyways. And stay out of the akuma battles.” She doesn’t actually think that working together will help anyways, and she wants Damian gone sooner rather than later. He’s been making her feel too much and emotions that are far more explosive and easy to take advantage of than Marinette has in a long time. She doesn’t want to be targeted by an akuma because of her inner conflict. 

“Two weeks, then,” Batman agrees. “Robin can contact me if you need any extra resources.”

Marinette hangs up and assesses Damian. He looks almost pitiful, with bruising around his eyes, tousled hair, a ripped suit, and cuts where his skin is exposed. She opens her trap door in a clear gesture for him to depart. Downstairs is dark; her Maman and Papa have long since gone to sleep, and it’s only a few more hours until they wake up to start baking. “We start tomorrow. If you need Ladybug for anything, tell me.”

He’s half way down the ladder when he looks back up at Marinette, into her eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Marinette can’t breath. She feels like vomiting. His eyes are so green in comparison to the purple bruising on his face. She did that to him. She made him look that way. All she’s ever wanted to do as Ladybug is protect the people she cared for. But Damian-- Marinette doesn’t know. She doesn't know whether what Damian has done can actually be described as bad. He was just trying to do what Batman told him to do. Keeping an eye on a threat. Marinette wonders how long he thought she was Hawkmoth. She wonders if he ever thought they were friends. 

“I’m sorry too,” Marinette says, and shuts the trap door.

They’re both sorry for very different things.

[classicdaisycalico]

The anon user inspired me to ask you a prompt. What about number 9 with shadouge? Your one-shots are wonderful

Short fic challenge

I FINALLY FINISHED IT F U C K

Woohoooooo another successful entry into the Shadouge tag!!!!!!! I'm so excited!!!!!! This one is much shorter than the other two prompts I wrote a few weeks ago, which I think is pretty good because it means I've gotten to the point of the story much quicker. Other than that, I have a feeling you'll really like this one!

9. "A moment missing from canon"

***

Rouge the Bat knew that the FinalHazard was no joke. Attached to the Space Colony ARK, the fact that it would crash into Earth was even more frightening. Acting even half a second too late to destroy the creature and restore the ARK’s orbit, and Earth would have been nothing but the galaxy’s largest floating pile of space junk.

To many in the world, it was considered an impossible task, but with the help of the Chaos Emeralds, Sonic and Shadow had achieved it. Billions of peoples’ lives were saved. It should have been a momentous occasion. It should have been something for Sonic and company to celebrate.

But they weren’t. They couldn’t. Someone, a very important someone, was missing, and it didn’t seem likely that he survived.

It shouldn’t have even been possible for someone like Shadow the Hedgehog to sacrifice himself this way. He was the Ultimate Life Form, after all. He could be mere seconds from death and still heal much quicker than the average creature. There were times where he recovered from injuries so quickly, it was as if they never even happened.

She wondered if someone like him could survive reentering the world’s atmosphere, falling to earth, crashing into it with an impact so devastating it would probably break every single bone in his body. If he was truly immortal, then surely he could recover from all of those things...right?

Still, with the way Sonic presented his inhibitor ring to her, he made it seem like, for the first time, Shadow wasn’t able to evade something like this.

To Rouge, it almost seemed foolish. Why would Sonic ever believe something like that? He didn’t know Shadow the way she knew him...at least, whatever she knew of him, anyway. Apart from Gerald’s research and G.U.N mission reports, she didn’t know very much. Even now, she didn’t like the idea of reducing the hedgehog’s identity to mere pieces of paper. They never mentioned how the idea of his creation was spurred by a man wanting to cure his granddaughter of a terrible illness. They never mentioned how Shadow and said granddaughter were like brother and sister. They never mentioned how traumatized Shadow was by Maria’s death, particularly when G.U.N were the ones that killed her, the very organization that deemed Shadow as a threat.

The very organization that Rouge was a part of at this very moment.

Simply put, the government didn’t want to depict Shadow with any emotion, or any positive sense of justice, even though she’d seen it before. One of the only times she caught a glimpse of it was when he made the decision to save the world alongside Sonic. The other was back on Prison Island, when she was trapped in a cell with no way out. Of all people, it was Shadow who came to her rescue. He could have easily taken the Chaos Emeralds she had on hand and left her for dead, but he still chose to save her life, anyway. She’d asked about it later when he had transported her to the ARK to meet up with Dr. Eggman, but he brushed it off. Somehow, she knew that wasn’t the whole story, and she had a feeling he agreed.

That rescue hadn’t left her mind ever since.

Clearly, there was something more to Shadow, something that the government didn’t want her to know. The only way she could uncover such secrets was if she were somehow able to find Shadow herself. Did she care if that got her in trouble with G.U.N? Absolutely not. Even before working with them as a spy, Rouge was a lady who marched to the beat of her own drum. What made this occasion any different?

Now with renewed determination, she let her free hand rest on her wrist. On that wrist was the inhibitor ring Sonic gave her after returning to the ARK. Shadow the Hedgehog was out there somewhere. Rouge could feel it.

***

Just days later, the bat was still on the move. Dr. Eggman had been acting strangely cryptic throughout that time, and naturally, as a spy, she had to get to the bottom of the matter. What was he hiding? A secret treasure, perhaps?

She had it all planned out: a solo stealth mission to the base, where she could sneak in undetected and snoop around until she found the most heavily guarded unit inside. If the mission proved unsuccessful, she could always leave the same way she came in, with a few destroyed guard mechs left behind to prove a point to the mad doctor regarding his security measures. If she did find something…

Well, she’d figure that out later.

After slipping out of an air vent, she dropped to the floor. In the short distance of a mere hop, skip, and a jump, she was in front of the entrance of what appeared to be a giant safe. One quick entry of a passcode later, and the giant door opened itself. So far, this operation was going quite well.

“This must be it,” she whispered to herself, barely able to contain her excitement. “I’ve found Eggman’s secret treasure!”

She walked slowly to a control panel stationed in the middle of the room. In front of the panel lay a pode that contained...something, encased in a strange green liquid. Surrounding everything were a wide array of surveillance cameras and other miscellaneous security-related knickknacks, one of which had been awakened upon Rouge’s entrance.

She didn’t seem to hear it, though. Her thoughts were instead focused on releasing what was inside of that pod. When she heard the green liquid receding from inside, she knew it was working.

The bat looked up briefly to check on her progress, and suddenly gasped in surprise. The treasure locked inside the giant safe in Eggman’s base was no ordinary find. Even as her hand covered her mouth in shock, a small smile couldn’t help but make its way across her muzzle underneath it.

I knew it.

Sealed away inside that pod was Shadow the Hedgehog, not at all dead, as everyone else suspected him to be, but very much alive.

And SHE was the one who found him.

[oikawasass]

Okay so this is based on the end of this story so I highly suggest you go read that if you haven’t.

do I really have to go?

‣ pairing : bakugo x fem reader.

‣ oneshot.

‣ synopsis : a trip down memory lane.

‣ wordcount : 1.9k+

‣ warnings : angst, character death, swearing.

“Y/n…” Katsuki’s strained voice choked out, waiting for a response. He didn’t receive one.

“Y/n. Answer me.” He spoke more stern this time with a shake to her body, hoping this was some sick joke and a serious tone of voice would force her into an answer.

It didn’t work.

Katsuki’s body fell on top of her, head resting atop her chest as he felt like he was about to be sick to his stomach. There was a sharp, yet empty feeling in his gut, it felt like someone had just stabbed him.

No more calls of her name left his lips, no more shaking her body while trying to wake her up, it all stopped. Now he was left alone, shattered into what he felt was a million pieces. She was gone. And here he was, laying on top of the near mangled body of his first love, still holding her cold and limp hand to his cheek while he felt something build up and sting deep in his throat.

As his hearing went fuzzy, and all he could hear was his own racing heartbeat in his ears, Katsuki screamed.

Katsuki screamed out of the sheer ache and torment his body felt as she lay lifeless in his arms.

Yet to Bakugo’s own knowledge, she was seated right beside him, head rested gently atop the back of his shoulder, as calm as she could be. Or should I say, her spirit was.

It was weird to her, seeing herself laying so pale and torn up on the ground in front of her. But what was really tugging at her heartstrings, was the way Katsuki was sobbing on top of her. The way he was struggling to breathe between the agonizing noises that left his chest while continuing to shake her and beg- no, plead for her to just wake up.

“He’s never cried like this before. . .” Y/n muttered quietly, turning her head to get a better look at her boyfriend. The blonde looked so. . .so broken. She’d never wanted to see him in such a state of vulnerability and pain, yet here she was, being the cause of it.

“He loved you.” The tall, dark figure behind her, who’d she’d been becoming rather acquainted with up until now, spoke up. Y/n slowly nodded her head in response. “You were the only one he’d ever loved like that.”

Y/n smiled softly at his words, yet shook her head slowly. “You don’t have to rub it in, y’know. This already sucks enough as it is.” A sad chuckle fell from her lips. “I don’t wanna leave like this either.”

She lifted her head up once the familiar ringing of sirens blasted from somewhere in the distance, signalling that help was finally near. If only they’d come a bit sooner, huh?

“L/n, we have to go. It’s been long enough.” The voice of the shadowed figure was surprisingly soft, almost comforting with how deep and smooth it was. It seems as if it was rather fitting for the job he had; welcoming, comforting and bringing newly released spirits to the other side.

“Just. . . just a little longer? Please?” Y/n gently rose her hand to cup the cheek of Bakugo, the one of which he wasnt holding her body’s hand against. “Will I still get to see him once we go?” She asked hopefully, turning to look up at the man beside her. “Like, to watch over him?”

“I'm afraid I can’t answer that, L/n.” He responded, walking towards her and slowly sitting cross-legged beside her. “However, there is one thing you get to observe before we go.”

Suddenly, everything around the two began to twist and contort, almost as if someone was spinning the scenery around them. Now, they were no longer in the snow-covered ground beside Katsuki and the body she once occupied.

They were in the room of class 2-A, her classroom.

Y/n blinked in confusion, looking around the classroom she very sadly wouldn’t find herself returning to.

No more of Kaminari and Jirou’s flirting bickering, no more of Kirishima yelling about how manly something he saw a fellow classmate do was, or Izuku and Uraraka turning beat red with every word they spoke to each other.

No more Aoyama pretending he was French and sophisticated when everyone knew otherwise, or Mina’s cute smile and bubbly attitude lighting up the room. She wouldn’t be able to watch Iida scold Tokoyami for sitting on the desks, or giggle in amusement when she noticed Tsuyu zone out in class as her tongue fell out of the side of her mouth.

There wouldn’t be another time where she watched Ojiro blush like a madman when Denki would start rubbing his tail, or when Hagakure’s uniform sleeves would flail around in the air as she told the boy ‘not to be weird’ while Sero was laughing like an idiot in the background.

Sato would no longer be able to offer her any of the delicious sweets he’d made that day, and she could say goodbye to Koda letting her pet some of the animals he’d been surrounded by on those sweet summer mornings.

She wouldn’t be able to smile at Todoroki happily slurping his soba noodles, while he and Yaomomo sat in the back of the class having a peaceful conversation amidst all the chaos during lunch. She was no longer there to notice the small smile under Shoji’s mask as he couldn’t deny the fondness that had grown within him for the people in his class, hell, even no more Mineta around to pester and bother her with his pervy comments and actions, only to have Bakugo threaten the little grape every time he tried something.

And finally, no more Y/n and Bakugo to make the rest of the class feel ‘hopelessly single’ as Kaminari used to say.

“I thought I told you not to rub it in.” Y/n said, smiling sadly when all the memories of her class were shown before her. God, she already missed them so much. She no longer had a heart, but she couldn’t deny the ache deep in her chest at the memories of her friends surfacing.

“Keep watching.”

“Oi, shitty girl.” Bakugo said, approaching her with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his baggy uniform pants. She turned her attention away from Denki, Jirou, Sero and Mina to look at the blonde who now stood before her.

“What’s u- woah okay!” Bakugo had grabbed her wrist, pulling her up from her seat and leading her out of the classroom before anyone else could make note of their exit together.

“Well you could’ve just asked me to follow y-” “Just shut the hell up and listen, will you?”

Y/n clamped her mouth shut, nodding and motioning for him to continue.

“I-” he sighed, rolling his eyes and scuffing one of his feet against the polished floor beneath him.

“I like you, okay?”

“....”

“Me?”

“Yes you, idiot! Who the hell else is around?!”

“Like, you like like me?”

“You’re such an idiot- yes!”

“Shut up I just wanna make sure!”

“Tch. Listen-!!”

Katsuki was cut off by the feeling of soft, plush lips against his own.

“Well, ill have you know that I like you too, blasty.”

“That's when he confessed back in our first year. . .”

The same spinning illusion they’d gone through before repeated, this time bringing them into the downtown area Y/n used to live by. A light sheet of snow covered the ground as more continued to fall from the sky, the orange and pink colours coming from the setting sun above them illuminating the city.

“Wait, is this the spot that he-”

“Katsu!” Y/n yelled, running to keep up with her boyfriend who’d now walked quite a few steps ahead of her.

“You couldn’t even wait for me to finish tying my boot- woah!” Y/n cut herself off as she slipped on a small spot of ice in her rush to catch up, expecting to be met with the wet and cold concrete street beneath her. Instead, she was engulfed by a large, warm pair of arms catching her before she got the chance.

“Careful, dumbass! You almost ate shit there!”

“Oh please, I would’ve been fine.”

“You’re so damn clumsy. You’re lucky I love you or I’d kick the hell out of you for not watching where you’re g. . the hell are you smiling like that for?”

“You said you love me.”

“Well-” Bakugo bit the inside of his cheek, looking down at his girlfriend who was still wrapped up in his arms.

“Well, it's not like I was lying, idiot.”

Y/n leaned up to kiss him softly, smiling against his lips.

“I love you too.”

“Man, you’re really giving me a hard time here, huh?”

The scenery around them faded to another time, Y/n instantly recognizing where she was and feeling herself reach for her left ring finger when she did.

It was summer, and it was dark. The stars were out, beautifully on bright display for everyone beneath them. She and Katsuki were sat on the U.A. rooftops, admiring the beautiful constellations above them. It was right after they had finished celebrating their one year

“Hey, I got you something.” Katsuki quietly broke the silence between them, reaching into the pocket of his hoodie, (one Y/n had surprisingly not stolen) and pulled out a small, rectangular box, handing it over to her.

“What's this?”

“Open it, dummy.”

Y/n chuckled softly, opening the box to reveal two silver rings, one slightly larger than the other. She felt her eyes go a little wide in surprise as she looked up to her boyfriend.

“Are these. . .” “Promise rings.” Bakugo confirmed, taking the smaller ring out of the box and holding his hand out for Y/n’s to which she gave to him. He slowly slid the ring onto her left ring finger, it was a perfect fit.

“Or just call them. . . place holders.”

“Place holders until what?”

“Until I can put a real ring on your finger, obviously.”

“He always used to swear he was gonna marry me.” Y/n chuckled sadly, placing a hand over her chest as the ache slowly began to fade away. Seeing all the most amazing memories and sweet moments they shared together, it made her feel as if she could leave on a good note. A small smile graced her face as she nodded, finally understanding the purpose of the small journey she was taken on.

Suddenly, she was back in the present, where Katsuki now sat pressed up against the ambulance doors alone, sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest and a shadowed cast over his eyes. A few bandages littered his cheeks, signalling he’d already been treated. Y/n paid no mind to the black body bag a few feet away from him.

Y/n went over and sat beside him, resting her head on his shoulder and hugging his waist, just like she always did when he was upset. Katsuki felt a small chill, rubbing gently at his arms to make the goosebumps he felt go away.

“Its time, L/n.”

“. . .Do I really have to go?”

“I'm afraid so.”

Y/n nodded slowly, placing a soft kiss to Bakugo’s cheek. Bakugo scratched the surface of his face at the sudden tickle against his skin.

“Okay, I think I'm ready.”

[charcolor]

opinions on all my songs

forever after all: you'd think most 18 year olds would know that the vocals should be in the same key as the instrumental. i am SO sorry. and i had just gotten vocaloid4 + avanna and i wanted to have something to my name ASAP so uhhh that didnt help.

spoiled milk: i joke sometimes about how i'll eventually be called a ghost ripoff for making edgy songs about my mental illness. but this song is straight up no joke a ripoff of iolite ni. fortunately unlike ghost i wasn't like, good at making eerie lo fi kinda music yet so it sounds very different anyway. the album version is ok though

11pm: i thought the wacky messy fast part at the end was a good idea. and unfortunately people have to listen to this to fully understand 1pm

lalia: beats you to death with a shovel (my gf does like this one and i really do not understand why other than gf bias. maybe it's also catgirl bias...)

balloon garden: i know the mixing sucks. i know. i'm aware. and i know it's an unironic mlp fan song. but i still like it. when do you think i'll get tinnitus vote now on your phones

rot in peace: this one's fine

1pm: this song isnt quite that bad but i hate that it has so many views. go listen to fallen angels mafia, idiot

feast upon a starfish: beats you to death with a shovel

two way mirror: i like this song but since it's album exclusive no one cares about it :(

vivisect me: this one's epic tbh

channel35: it's ok but using all my girls was a mistake. i hate mixing :(

my ugly ugly heart: i think it's weird and messy but i did make it in 2 days to be fair. it's ok i'd probably like it more once i stop associating it with my trauma

silent cartoons: i think this one is epic too but i accidentally made the pv epilepsy inducing i think...i did try making an epilepsy friendly pv but that was later so i don't think anyone noticed...and also the pv sucks but it's not my fault

scarecrow without a story: mixing sux and hurts my ears but i still like it. i like the lyrics and tuning. i'm so sorry for using the same vhs footage in all my pvs

flyswatter girl: beats you to death with a sh

little girl: i think this one has my best lyrics. i used up all my lyric juice on this one and now i can't write good lyrics anymore :(

poignarder mon estomac: i still think this sounds really good especially considering i made it in less than 20 hours. (don't take that as a challenge btw. please avoid overworking yourself and burning out i love u)

fallen angels mafia: this is my peak you better listen to it i'm not making any more bangers after this

laugh it up: i really like it but in order to fully appreciate it you'd have to listen to lalia first and i think that's unfortunate.

subete wa atatakai: miku :)

love me like your victim: compared to the song it's a prequel to this is fucking embarrassing. if it wasn't a song about my oc i'd probably have unlisted it by now...

please be something + unknown caller id: i think i did a very good job but like with two way mirror, they're album exclusive so no one cares :(

anyway

[seagullsausage]

Here is your reminder to talk about that marriage/ghost au that you mentioned yesterday :0 I'm very curious about it!! :>

wow i cant believe someone actually remembered to tell me LOL but yes!!! its kind of a spin off of a "serial killer anti" au mixed with a joke post i made awhile ago that was like "haha what if all the egos were anti's ex boyfriends"

so far the premise im going with is that jameson and anti are newlyweds moving into anti's house, which jameson has visited, but never lived in before. everything is nice and normal and he's very happy, but he starts having horrific nightmares every night and starts noticing weird things happening around the house?? windows will shake, doors will slam, dishes fall, ya know, typical spooky stuff.

well EVENTUALLY these fucking creepy ass ghosts finally reveal themselves to jameson on a day that anti's at work and he FLIPS OUT and the ghosts are like CAN YOU STOP SCREAMING WE ARE HERE TO WARN YOU

so basically the ghosts are chase, henrik, marvin, and jackie who turn out to be all of anti's ex husbands that he killed. jameson doesn't believe them at first, cause, well, anti is so sweet and kind and funny and charming and he couldn't be a murderer!!! right??

well they start showing jameson the murder weapons around the house-antis gun that he shot marvin with, the sledgehammer he beat chase with, etc. and finally they make him dig up their decaying bodies in the backyard and finally jameson is like ok......maybe this is very very Real

so they warn him that anti is going to kill jameson next, because thats what he Does. they also tell him that he can't run away or confront anti because that will lead to his early torture/death, so he needs to find a way to kill anti before anti kills him.

and jameson is like.....terrified bc he can't let anti know that he Knows so life just has to continue on as normal?? like he has to cook for anti and kiss him and pretend like everythings fine with the knowledge that he married a fucking serial killer and he's the next victim??? fuck dude

so yeah. theres some concepts that i have like anti being a demon or a succubus or something, or maybe hes just a fucking Sociopath who takes great pleasure in killing those he loves. but ya know.

also a concept for the ending is that all the ghosts possess jameson and they Get Revenge on anti before they can finally go to heaven and be at peace. another ending is that jameson does end up killing anti in a final fight when anti is trying to kill him. and the ghosts learn to let go of their anger and torment when their killer is finally gone, and they end up just living in the house with jameson and jamie now has some cool ghost friends :)

so yeah!! dats basically all i got so far haha, i was reminded of this au by listening to Ghosts by John murphy (which is like a rejected film score which is rly cool and spooky). idk if ill actually do something with this in the future, but i might draw some spooky art sometime soon :0 but thanks for your interest!! if i come up with any more ideas ill let u guys know :)

[bubbyleh]

I See La Vie en Rose - Chapter 7

cw for mentions of past character death and limb loss (not explicit)

Chapter 7: Hitch a Ride

Tommy: Hey this is gonna sound weird but Tommy: Do you want to meet my nephew?

Darnold ♡: You have a nephew?

Tommy: Not like. Biologically. Tommy: You’ve met Gordon and Benrey! He’s their kid, his name is Joshua.

Darnold ♡: Oh! Darnold ♡: I didn’t realize they were together!

Tommy: Yeah, they have been for a while. Tommy: But, uh… Tommy: I can’t really get into it, but things have been tense lately? And it’s mainly centering around Gordon :( Tommy: Everything’s fine! But Tommy: I kinda wanna take Joshua out for a day, you know? Tommy: And I’m asking you to come with

Darnold ♡: Of course! Darnold ♡: I heard the museum has free admissions for kids tomorrow. Do you think that’s a good idea?

☆○☆○☆

Tommy: Benrey?

Benrey!!!: oh hey Benrey!!!: ur awake Benrey!!!: why

Tommy: Why are you awake? :(

Benrey!!!: cant sleep

Tommy: Is it Gordon?

Benrey!!!: yeah hes Benrey!!!: i dont know Benrey!!!: why are you texting me? u can come over?

Tommy: I’m kind of comfy in bed right now Tommy: And it’s late Tommy: And Tommy: Is it fair to say I don’t want to? :(

Benrey!!!: oh more than fair

Tommy: But I want to ask you something Tommy: I was talking with Darnold Tommy: NOTHING SPECIFIC! Tommy: Trust me. Tommy: But he suggested, and I agree, that we could maybe take Joshua to the museum tomorrow?

Benrey!!!: i dont know man Benrey!!!: i feel like feetman would yell at me if i let joshy head down now Benrey!!!: if he yells at all Benrey!!!: hes just been so quiet lately Benrey!!!: i hate this

Tommy: I really wish you’d talk to us, Benrey. Tommy: I hate to say it, but Tommy: Maybe we could have avoided this :(

Benrey!!!: … Benrey!!!: maybe

Tommy: I think getting out will do Joshua some good, though? Tommy: We can have a fun day! Tommy: It’s just that Tommy: All this stuff! Gordon not acting like himself! Whatever’s going on with you Tommy: He’s in the same house as that Tommy: So I think NOT being in the same house will help?

Benrey!!!: wait

Tommy: What?

Benrey!!!: gordon not Benrey!!!: i think u have a point Benrey!!!: about a few things Benrey!!!: yeah u can take joshy down tomorrow Benrey!!!: ill make sure gordon agrees just Benrey!!!: dont come back until i tell you okay? Benrey!!!: i think i can fix this

Tommy: Yeah?

Benrey!!!: yeah Benrey!!!: make sure joshy gets something at the gift shop Benrey!!!: get something for me too?

☆○☆○☆

The next day is overcast, but Tommy’s not sure that it’ll be rainy by the time they leave. Still, he has Joshua grab his jacket before they leave, just in case. Not that it’s actually possible for either of them to catch a cold, but getting soaked isn’t fun!

“Re-remember Joshua,” Tommy says as they approach the museum. “Darnold is a friend, but the- the rules still apply!”

Toomy feels Joshua nod into his back, which is a good enough response when you’re giving someone a piggyback ride. Joshua loves asking Tommy for piggyback rides, though it’s more a result of Tommy being the tallest than any special uncle privileges.

“Is, um,” Joshua asks. “Is this the guy my dad says is your special friend?”

Tommy holds back a laugh. With everything happening, he hasn’t actually gotten a chance to share his updated relationship status with everyone. “What are- what are your dads telling you?”

Joshua, being three years old, caves in immediately. “Um! They say that there’s a guy you really like, and you want to kiss him and marry him someday!”

“Marry!?” Tommy exclaims. “I mean, I-I like him and all, but marriage is a… it’s a little ways off right now.”

Pouting, Josh swings his legs. “But I wanna go to a wedding! I wanna go to a party after a wedding!”

“Weddings are mostly boring, actually. I was- I was at your dads’.” Tommy says. “Hey, climb on my shoulders. Try to- to find Darnold for me.”

While Joshua does comply, he complains as he crawls up. “I don’t know what he looks like!”

Tommy sighs, unlocking his phone and handing it up to Joshua. “Look through the gallery, he’s- he’s in there.”

There’s a moment of silence and Joshua navigates through Tommy’s phone. “Woah!” he shouts. “Why do you have so many pictures of him?!”

“He’s my boyfriend, I- I like having pictures of him,” Tommy explains. Joshua blows a raspberry down at him.

A hand tugs as Tommy’s sleeve from behind, and after turning his head, there’s Darnold. “Hey-” he starts, but is cut off when Tommy places a finger over his own lips.

“Do you, uh… do you see anything u-up there?” Tommy asks, and though he’s speaking to Joshua, he’s looking right at Darnold.

Joshua sighs. “Uncle Tommy, I don’t think he’s here.” He presses his face into Tommy’s propeller cap. “I guess we just have to go into the museum without him.”

“Oh, but I really- I really like him!” Tommy pretends to whine, and Darnold covers his smile with a hand. “Try looking a little bit lower? He’s kinda short.”

That earns him a jab from Darnold’s elbow, which he wasn’t exactly undeserving of. However, Joshua feels the jolt, and their little game is done.

“L-look Josh! There he is!” Tommy acts surprised. He lifts Josh off his shoulders and places him on the ground.

“Hey there, Joshua!” Darnold finally gets to greet them. “I’m Darnold. It’s a pleasure to meet you!” He offers his hand mostly as a joke, but Joshua does end up taking it and giving his best attempt at a handshake, albeit appearing confused the whole time.

“Hi,” Joshua manages. “Uh. I don’t really hear about you.”

“No?” Darnold chokes back a laugh. “Does, uh… does Tommy not talk about me?”

Joshua shakes his head. “No, he talks about you with the grownups. We talk about dogs! And cowboys!”

“Dogs and cowboys?” Darnold looks up at Tommy, smirking.

“He’s three,” Tommy defends himself. “There’s not a lot of- of topics to cover.”

☆○☆○☆

After paying their admission (Tommy insisted on paying for Darnold’s, after all, being a god allows one access to a healthy sum of money), Tommy swipes a pamphlet and begins to look through the museum’s different exhibits. They’re stopped for a moment, because Joshua’s shoe was untied and he wanted to show Darnold that he learned how to tie it last week, but his hands are so small and it is so difficult. Anatomy, no. Dinosaurs, definitely. He judges them, one by one, until a specific exhibit catches his eye.

“Hey Joshua, my- I lost the ability to read.” Tommy places the pamphlet in front of him and points to a specific line. “Can you tell me what that says?”

Forgetting about his shoe, Joshua squints at the paper. Ugh, he might be taking after Gordon in the eyesight department. How are you supposed to get a child god with no actual birth certificate prescription glasses?

“T… th… the w…” Joshua sounds out. “The wil...d… we… st? The wild west?” His eyes light up immediately. “Cowboys!? They have cowboys!?”

“A cowboy exhibit?” Darnold leans over to check out the pamphlet. “Huh, would you look at that.”

“Are we- are we heading there first?” Tommy addresses the other two.

“Yeah!” Joshua throws his arms in the air and jumps off the bench. He takes off in a random direction. “Cowboys! Cowboys! Cowb-”

“Wait, Joshua! Your shoelace!”

Smack!

☆○☆○☆

The moment they step into the Wild West exhibit, Joshua stops sniffling and rubbing his red cheek, instead excitedly wiggling out of Tommy’s arms, marvelling at the presentations around him as if it were a candy store. Realizing that he’ll be

murdered

if he doesn’t capture this moment, Tommy pulls out his phone.

“So,” Darnold asks. “What’s with the cowboy thing?”

Tommy chuckles. “It was- Benrey showed him Toy Story 2, as a joke. He- he really liked it, kinda went from there.”

“Not Toy Story 1?”

“Joshua has never seen Toy Story 1.” Tommy snaps a few photos of Josh, making a mental note to send them to everyone later.

Tommy and Darnold end up mostly dragged along by Joshua, who constantly runs ahead and then doubles back to get them to read a placard for him. Josh seems to take a liking to Darnold, which Tommy is thrilled to see. Occasionally, Tommy will reach to hold hands with Darnold, only to find that Joshua has beaten him to it.

If it wasn’t so cute, Tommy would be a little angry.

“Look! Look!” Joshua shouts and points. “Real cowboys! Real pictures of real cowboys!”

“Heh,” Darnold remarks, nodding towards one of the black and white photos. “That one kind of looks like your dad, Joshy.”

Tommy is frozen.

Joshua grabs onto Darnold’s shirt. “Lift me! I wanna see!” Darnold complies, and when he lays eyes on the portrait, Joshua gasps. “That- that looks just like Daddy!”

The man in the photograph has the same chin, the same cheeks, same nose. But he’s so different too. His hair isn’t pulled back into a ponytail, but rather falls down around his shoulders. One of his hands isn’t ghostly and transparent, instead something flesh and whole. He’s smiling, and Tommy can’t remember the last time he saw that smile genuinely.

“Let’s see here.” Darnold reads the plaque underneath. “The Free Man, date unknown. The Free Man spent his days hunting down violent offenders in the west for private individuals. He disappeared, and his fate remains unknown.”

Not unknown. Tommy gulps.

That doesn’t just look like Gordon. That is Gordon.

It’s easy to forget. Gordon’s been around for two and a half centuries at this point, and Tommy didn’t know him before that. He doesn’t know the man in the photograph, who let his hair down and laughed and still had two hands. Who lived and had a beating heart. Who was betrayed and killed in a cave in the desert.

Tommy doesn’t like to think about the fact that Gordon was mortal once, and how he got to where he is.

He looks away. Tommy turns his head a full ninety degrees to the right, because he can’t look at this right now. He’s looking at another display, one with a small wagon, a plastic horse, and a skeleton standing upright. It’s nice, probably about trade, or ranchers, or-

Hang on a second.

“Maybe it’s an ancestor of yours or something?” Darnold theorizes. “What do you think, Tommy?”

Why is there a skeleton there?

“Uncle Tommy?”