#i would literally just go and punch someone for taking someones cane and holding it out of their reach as a “joooke” | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sneezefiction · 4 years ago

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let the past die, kill it if you have to

Fushiguro Megumi x Fem. Reader

desc: sparring with your boyfriend turns into an emotional unpacking of sorts.

a/n: okay but i promise it’s not ALL angst. i just can’t do that to myself, y’know? soft endings make me smile. also the title is a quote from star war’s kylo ren (there’s no correlation, i just couldn’t think of another name for this fic.) thanks for reading!

warnings: angst, mentions death, blood, anxiety, trauma

wc: 3.5k

---

“Is… is there really any point to this,” you pant.

You’re hunched over with your hands on your knees, struggling to gasp in another breath.

For such a pretty day, you hadn’t planned on spending it getting sweaty, much less sparring with someone. If you’d wanted to drip sweat and ruin your hair, you would have preferred to go for a jog or hit the gym… but you certainly hadn’t asked to sink your fists into your boyfriend’s hands.

Fushiguro adjusts the collar to his white button-down shirt and sighs, “I already told you, yes.”

There’s hardly a drop of sweat on him.

If anything, he looks refreshed after an hour of gentle sparring. The only sign of physical exertion is a slight cherry-pink tint shown on his cheeks - even then, it could just be the product of a little too much sun on his pale skin. In comparison to the dark-haired boy’s youthful stamina, you feel like a feeble, old lady; maybe you should invest in a cane so that you look like one too.

“But why now? You’ve never asked to teach me before.”

You don’t usually whine around Megumi - he’s too practical to take your complaints very seriously anyway - but today, you just can’t seem to help it. It’s a gripe that’s been sitting at the tip of your tongue all morning.

For someone so reserved, he really had a way of working you to the bone. Why does he feel the need to drag you out to a random field to punch and kick and fall down when you likely couldn’t even outmaneuver a child? It’s counterintuitive and a big waste of your time.

But he doesn’t seem to think so.

“I don’t want you to be defenseless.”

You stand back up, your lungs having finally recovered.

“I wouldn’t call this defense. You’re literally just teaching me how to slug a guy in the face,” you say flatly while looking down to examine your hands.

“Don’t try to punch someone in the face, y/n. You’ll-”

“-break my fingers, yeah, I know. You already told me that…” you glance back up and roll your eyes. “Don’t take everything I say so literally.” A smile plays at your lips.

Fushiguro sighs in response. He wears his usual frustrated frown (which he maintains is just his resting face) and trudges toward you.

You eye him and swipe a bunched-up fist across your forehead before dropping it back to your side.

In a few short strides, he’s in front of you, blue eyes hooded and lips drawn into a firm line. He gives you a once over, probably measuring how well you’re holding up so far. You just hope that he’ll call it a day… but it’s not looking like that’s going to happen anytime soon.

He blinks. Then, without warning, Fushiguro reaches down and wraps a hand gently around your lowered wrist. He uses his other hand to conduct your upper arm so that it’s parallel to the ground. You let his warm hands guide your movements slowly and meticulously while he trains his eyes on your positioning. If you weren’t already acquainted with his inscrutable stares, you might’ve been battling a blush right now, but you’ve grown used to your boyfriend’s habits.

Although, for someone who’d just been blocking your kicks and tripping you up, Fushiguro is being awfully careful with you. His fingers, scarred and rough, are delicate on your skin.

He steps back, eyes searching and sharp, and scans your body once again to find the next part in need of adjustment. He taps the top of your shoe with the sole of his own.

“Your feet need to be further apart.”

You comply, shifting your stance by a few inches. In doing so, your shoes crush lush, cool grass.

You look down longingly.

The earth beneath your feet would be far more enjoyable without your shoes on. If you could just get him to drop this whole “training session” idea, maybe you could convince him to lay down on the verdant hill instead of fighting on it.

But he’s already interrupting your thoughts with more instructions.

“Keep your fists clenched but don’t tuck in your thumb,” he explains, “that’s gotta stay out or you could break it.”

Instead of letting you adjust your own hand, he’s already got a hand on yours, spreading your fingers individually. You let him. He’s acting a little peculiar today and it may be best to wait and see what’s up.

“Your arms and shoulders should be loose right up until you’re actually throwing a punch. Also, try to remember-” he gently pushes your upper arm back to your side, “-it’s the rotation of your hips that gives this kind of punch power.”

It’s like you’re about to enter a boxing ring with the way you’re standing right now. Feet spread, knees slightly bent, and fists held somewhere between your face and your chest.

You’re like a fish out of water.

Sure, you’re not flopping and flailing around on the ground, but even if you are learning some moves, nothing about this so-called “training” feels natural. Tense is written in thick, black letters all over your expression. You weren’t exactly built for close combat… or physical fights in general. Mentally you could argue your way out of most situations, but you would really rather leave the ass-kicking to the actual Jujutsu sorcerers.

“Punching a curse isn’t gonna do much damage y’know?” you chuckle.

It’s true. Unless you have cursed energy, you’re pretty much screwed if you try to fight one. Fushiguro’s eyes narrow - clearly, your comment isn’t very funny. At least, not to him.

“Well, I’m not really training you to fight curses. There’s a lot of other shitty people and things out there to worry about…”

“Right, but if you’re with me, I shouldn’t have to worry about that,” you say lightly, not thinking through the implications of your words.

But it’s not lost on Fushiguro.

It sounds like you’re assuming that he’ll always be around.

Not that he’s planning on dying anytime soon, but that’s just not something he can control. He’s seen strong allies and enemies die at their strongest. Just one second too slow, one vital movement missed, a single distraction... any of these things could cost him his life.

It’s obvious that this isn’t some fairytale world.

You, of all people, should know that.

He stops puppeteering your arms into different postures. Instead of his usual bored expression, you note the furrow in his brows. Fushiguro’s eyes grow dark and something of a cloud, a murky shadow, hoods over him.

“And what if I’m not?” he murmurs.

You tilt your head, caught off-guard. What?

“I said what if I’m not with you,” his voice is noticeably louder.

You take a step back. In all your years of conversation, you’ve never once heard him say something like this.

“Then what will you do?”

He takes a step toward you, eliminating the gap you’d just created.

The words cut through you. There’s friction in his tone; a battle between keeping his thoughts to himself and telling you what he’s been longing to say. Not that you’ve ever been able to tell what he’s thinking, but you know that there’s something lingering under the surface.

“I just…-” he tilts his head back and runs a stiffened hand through hair, letting it linger there, “-you’re important to me. I need to know that I at least tried to help you.”

You stand silent. Ah. He’d cut his thoughts short, but you think you’re finally catching on to what he’s referring to.

---

Bodies and blood, lifeless and scarlet, are scattered like confetti on the linoleum floors.

You’re bleeding and voiceless, legs having given out some time ago. Anyone who hadn’t already evacuated the school is as good as dead.

And with your back is pressed up against a cold locker, that only seems more true.

If you could hang your head any lower, you would – it weighs so heavily on your aching neck. You’re beaten down and exhausted with only enough energy to let out a whimper. Besides the chill of the metal on your back, a dull ringing in your ears is one of the only things confirming that you’re not quite gone yet.

What kind of fifteen-year-old has to confirm that they’re not dead?

But that’s the position you’re in. Stuck in an ever-darkening building and dangling between here and the after-life… if there even is such a thing. With the hellish state you’re in, you may as well be facing divine judgement already.

Just how many gashes could a human body sustain? It hurts— no, it burns. A searing pain tears through your body, coursing from your chest, to your legs, down to the cuts on your shoeless feet. It’s only a matter of time before you’re rendered unconscious — a state that gets even more appealing as the minutes roll by one... by one... by one.

There’s a clang and a thud somewhere in the distance and your body braces in re-invigorated panic. You force your eyes shut, but the image of that.. that thing doesn’t fade. Its image only grows sharper and more realistic the more you try to ignore it.

Could you stand up and run if it came back? Was there something you could fight it with? Would it even matter if you tried? Survival seems improbable, if not impossible, at this point.

I mean, look at your friends just down the hall.

Most of them didn’t make it. Mangled, bruised, and broken, there are some kids whose faces you’d memorized that you probably couldn’t even recognize anymore. But you can’t bring yourself to mourn them. Terror has seized your body, constricting your movements and, apparently, your emotions too.

Your shirt is tattered at the edges and it clings to your clammy skin. Sweat trickles down your face and onto said shirt. It’s already drenched in red, so at least you don’t have to think too hard about gross sweat stains. You try to force a chuckle at that thought, but instantly regret the attempt. Instead of soft laughter you find yourself coughing and hacking and in a desperate search for oxygen.

Your eyes snap open when you realize how loud you’re being. The strangled noise travels through the cinderblock-lined hallway and eerily echoes back to you. You bring a weak hand to your mouth, cupping it to muffle the sound.

But it’s probably too late anyway. There’s no way that went unnoticed.

And you’re right, because soon after, something that sounds like footsteps is headed in your direction.

Your blood, or the rest of it anyway, drains from your face and you clench your jaw. Those tears you couldn’t seem to cry for your friends are now spilling out in haste, broken and pleading. If these really are your last moments, you ought to be allowed to cry like a baby. At least no one is around to watch as you keel over in a mess of salty tears.

But of course, as the universe would have it, the thought of having no one around makes you cry harder.

Because you really are alone right now.

You’ll die alone just like everybody else.

Those footsteps grow closer. You make one last effort to stifle your sniffling and ragged breathing.

But something is off.

You turn your head, shaking and exhausted, toward the sound because somehow those steps sound… human. That, or you’re just hallucinating. You can’t trust any of your senses right now.

But it isn’t wishful thinking.

A man… no, a boy — likely one no older than yourself - turns the corner. His uniform is all black and his hair is hardly a shade lighter. This dark-haired boy scans the floor and studies the bodies until his focus lands on you. You lift your head.

His heavy expression tells you that he’s well-acquainted with the situation at hand.

You blink in a silent plea for help. If you tried to open your mouth, words wouldn’t come out. Your lips are dry and your thoughts are too jumbled to produce any coherent sounds.

He approaches, relief spreading through you like a wildfire in a dry field.

Without a word, he’s at your side. A hand cups behind your head, tilting you out of your slumped position.

And he’s scooping you up.

You wince instinctively, but you can’t feel much of anything anymore; your body is too numb to use its senses.

Going limp, you surrender yourself to his grip.

With heavy eyes, your lids droop. You’d fought darkness long and hard, holding out hope for a savior. But before you succumb to the sweet lure of sleep, you do notice a few things.

For someone who’s almost your size, he’s quite strong — you’re tucked neatly and cautiously into his chest. He’s warm. You feel a fraction safer.

He hardly takes his eyes off of you. As if his gaze were your only life source, they flicker back to you every few moments. You’re sure he must be scared too, but at least he seems to know what he’s doing.

And you also notice that he’s speaking softly to you. Short sentences. The words are awkward and slow, as though he’s not used to the concept of comfort (just like most other fifteen-year-old boys.) You’re not complaining though. You can hardly make out what his voice sounds like as your hearing fades in and out…

But you do catch his name. Fushiguro Megumi.

He’s warm. Tense. Quiet.

And he’s trying desperately to get you out of this undeserved hell.

---

At the time, you’d never seen anything like a curse before.

So it used to haunt you, the memories of your lifeless friends and the reality of these monsters. You’ve re-lived that day countless times. Nightmares, racing heartbeats, collapsing to the floor in a cold sweat at the sight of a looming shadow. Leaving things in the past wasn’t something you grew up doing nor was it something you could readily implement into your life.

But for Fushiguro? It’s a part of his job description, to move on and forget.

That mindset, though seemingly heartless and inhuman, keeps people like Fushiguro safe and sane. If you’re too invested in the people you’re trying to save, if you get too close to other students, teachers, or citizens, you’re setting yourself up to be shattered like glass.

Besides you, most other people have slipped through his fingers like grains of sand. He’s able to leave those people, their faces and their last words, in the past.

But maybe he can’t leave everything in the past. Bloodstains and blurry vision mar your first encounter with him… but he’s never left you behind or forgotten about you.

Fushiguro actually took to you after that incident.

He doesn’t look like someone who would care much. There’s a coldness to his demeanor and almost always an impassive look on his face. Even the jaggedness of his hair could be seen as a measure to ward off any unwanted interactions. Fushiguro isn’t what you would call soft or sweet or even remotely sensitive.

However, he showed up for you.

He was there at the end of the day to walk you home from your new school; after all, your old school was practically decimated after the curses revealed themselves. Fushiguro took you to parks and quiet spaces to let you voice your fears - to sort through and cry over the hell that you had somehow lived through.

Even now, Fushiguro has strange reasons for why he sticks around you. Absurd grounds for why he chooses to be in a relationship, of all things, with you. Fushiguro is calculating and reasonable - dating someone under these circumstances is illogical at best and feels almost opposite to his character… but, at the same time, being with him makes sense.

He was - is - the only person who understands what it is that you saw that day.

No counselor or psychiatrist could’ve come close to comprehending what it was that you’d witnessed. No trauma quite relates to that of seeing many of your friends, teachers, and bullies torn to shreds in a single day. No one else could have believably set a hand on your shoulder and said, “I understand what you’re going through.”

Thus, you attribute much of your healing to him… and you like to think that you’re a steady and calming factor in his life. Because now you understand just a fraction of what he goes through daily.

But it’s been four years. Have you really become so important to him that old and faded memories have come back to haunt him? You’ve since distanced yourself from that day, but had he?

“-you’re important to me. I need to know that I at least tried to help you.”

So maybe you’d spoken too lightly… but it’s starting to sound like he’s anticipating an unforeseeable death date. You’ve already dealt with enough heavy things to last you a lifetime and you’re not about to entertain this gloomy conversation as though it were some sort of cutesy, Tuesday-afternoon banter.

“Are you already planning for my demise, Megumi?”

He frowns and drops his hand from his hair, “I- What? No-“

“Do you have some other technique that I don’t know about? Can you see my future?” You press.

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying that I know you’re anxious.”

Fushiguro opens his mouth, but you’re right. He shuts up.

You smile softly; comforting others may not be his forte, but you’re pretty different from the blue-eyed boy. In slow, steady motions, you step towards him.

Glancing down at his long, slender fingers, you reach toward them and grasp both tenderly. And as you bring them upward, you pull them ever-so-gently toward your chest. You move your hands to his wrists. He opens his palms and you press them both lightly to the upper part of your sternum. They rest just firmly enough that, if he isn’t too distracted by other much softer anatomy, he can feel your heartbeat.

Your eyes, previously trained on his hands, now look to his face. Fushiguro seems a little pinker, but his eyebrows are no longer painfully pinched together. You appear to have successfully diverted his attention.

“I need you to listen to me...” you speak softly, hoping to keep his focus solely on you.

“You’re not responsible for what happens to me when I’m alone. Or even when I’m with you.”

The words float like a feather through the air, though they’re anything but light. Maybe you should’ve said this long ago. You never once believed that it was his job to care for you. And if you’re being completely honest, you never once thought he’d even felt obligated to protect you.

With the reality you’re both living in, it would be wrong to place that kind of responsibility onto another person. No, it would be cruel to do such a thing.

“How can you say that?” Fear in the form of irritation curves his voice.

“Megumi, I’m well aware that we live in a dangerous world,” you begin, clasping his wrists tighter, “but I’m going to be okay. And so are you.”

Fushiguro’s mouth gapes slightly. You wish you could say that this look of disbelief was priceless. These expressions are few and far between, so you try to savor them when Fushiguro reveals them. But, with just a glance, you feel something inside of you crack.

The closer you’ve gotten to him, the more precious you’ve become. That, in itself, might be a curse.

“I know you don’t believe me… and it is a little unrealistic…”

(You refuse to say “impossible.” It’s such a hopeless way of framing your situation.)

You remove his hands from your chest and instead wrap your arms around his back, pulling yourself into his chest. It’s way too warm outside for a hug, but you’re pretty sure he could use one even if he would never admit to it.

And you’re right — there’s a lithe hand threading through the roots of your hair. The touch tickles and soon you feel a weight on the crown of your head. Fushiguro’s chin rests gently there.

“But we’ll be fine,” you promise.

Even if you’re lying through your teeth, you can’t stop yourself from saying it. Of course you don’t know if you’ll be okay.

Nobody does.

But what’s the point of anything if you can’t hope for the best?

“And,” you sigh reluctantly, pulling away from his chest, “if it’ll make you feel better…”

You make a face at him to lighten the mood, “I’ll learn how to kick someone’s ass.”

Without another word, you’re pulled back into his hold, this time much tighter. It’s almost uncomfortable, but you can’t keep a small, somber smile off of your lips. You’ll both have to be okay.

But whatever happens, happens. If one of you dies, you want the other be able to leave the past behind. Resting on something with such blatant finality would only serve to tear the lone survivor apart.

So you choose not to rest on this conversation anymore.

Anyway, there are only a couple of truly important things you’re thinking about right now.

You’re thinking about that boy from all those years ago.

The one who carried you out of those blood-drenched hallways. The one who whispered to you, just so that you could hear someone’s voice. The one who walked you home from school because you couldn’t do it alone anymore. The one person who really understands.

And you’re also thinking about how much he’s gonna hate it when he realizes that most of your sweat just soaked into his shirt.

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heyheydidjaknow · 4 years ago

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I finished it, finally! Yee fucking haw! It’s not perfect, but I’m not feeling terrible about it, and the next one is going to be fun. Unless something happens, the next chapter should come up on Sunday as planned. Knowing me, it won’t, but I wanna hope. As always, the table of contents and the previous chapter is at the bottom, and a full list of the shit I’ve published is at the bottom of the table of contents. I’ll do a proper proofread tomorrow. Right now, Grammarly and Kami are carrying the team, so if there’s a mistake, take it up with them.

Chapter 14

“I trust you won’t be creepy.”

“I’m thankful.” Yoshi runs his thumb along the rim of his cup slowly. “You have little faith in me, as I understand it.”

You try not to be disrespectful. “Well, things in your life could’ve gone better, right?”

He seems to consider this for a moment. “I suppose so.” He takes a slow drink. “Mistakes from my youth have led to many hardships. Still, though the road has been a long and strenuous one, I would not want to change my past.”

Your untouched drink is cradled in your hands. “You don’t regret anything?”

“It is a foolish and maddening thing, longing for a life unobtainable to you.” He closes his eyes, your own scanning the walls for the photograph you know is in some nook or cranny. “Besides, if things hadn’t happened the way they did, I wouldn’t have my sons.”

You can understand, intellectually, he does not mean to be—and likely is not— as arrogant as you perceive him. Still, something about the way he sits, the way he speaks, even how he looks at you now makes you feel painfully inferior, as if you reacting the way you are makes you somehow beneath him in more than a literal sense.

You decide against arguing the point, eyes flickering from the shrine back to the man in front of you. “I guess that’s true.” You know you are not going to drink any of what he has offered until you have to. “And you’ve always thought like that?”

He nods. “It was what I was taught.”

Nodding, you look back down at your cup, a deafening stillness settling between you two. ‘He convinces me to come here,’ you grumble silently, ‘and all I get for it is a lecture and an awkward silence.’ You look back up at him, setting the clay vessel on the ground and pulling your knees to your chest. ‘I could be doing something else, like fixing my shirt or something.’

“Speaking of them,” he continues, “Donatello tells me you have been experiencing night terrors.”

‘Snitch. Did he tell me he told him?’ “You don’t?”

His eyebrows rise. “Sorry?”

“We have the same trauma,” you explain simply. “Both our families died in fires we caused. Think that counts.”

He does not even flinch. “I’ve never thought of it that way.” He smiles softly. You want to punch him in the face. “I suppose so, yes.”

“You seem pretty calm about it.”

He chuckles at your expression. “I’ve had fifteen years to come to terms with my loss,” he takes another drink. “And,” he jokes, “I was often simply too exhausted to have nightmares back when the wound was fresh; caring for four young boys is tiring, you understand.”

“Right.” You crisscross your legs in front of you. “Yeah, the makes sense.”

“Having said that,” he continues, voice lowering, “I can’t imagine going through what I did at your age.” He sighs. “If something like that happened to one of my boys at this age, I can’t honestly say how they would cope.”

‘Poorly. I’d guess they’d cope poorly.’

“I understand that you and I have differences in ideals and morals.”

“You could say that.” Your mouth stretches into a wry smile. “I honestly only started hangin’ with and helpin’ y’all as a way to make up for my manslaughter. With this exception, I live by the adage, ‘Not my circus, not my monkeys.’”

“As I said,” he covers his mouth to hide his amusement, “we differ in that respect. I take it that’s why, when Donatello explained the situation—” you break eye contact—“he was unable to explain in any sort of detail what they were about.”

“Not his circus not his monkeys. ‘Sides,” you shrug, “he was already being really caring and understanding, and I was already sobbing my eyes out, which I’m sure he already told you, so.”

You stare down at your tea. “Are you going to elaborate?”

“Not if I don’t have to, no.” Your face heats up.

“Do you want my help?”

‘I hate this,’ you squirm. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be here if Donnie hadn’t asked me to.”

“For someone who believes in leaving people to their own devices,” he notes, “you seem to value the requests of my son a great deal.”

Your knees are back up to your chest. “He’s important to me. He’s been there for me. It’s the least I can do.”

He takes a beat to gather his thoughts. You brace yourself for a lecture.

“You care for him, then.”

You nod once, treading carefully.

“Romantically?”

You still do not look at him directly, staring instead at the gorgeous screen door. “I dunno.” Your fingernails scratch at the surface. “I’m not exactly in my right mind, you understand.”

“I can’t say I do.” A pause as he takes another drink. “Then again, I’ve only felt for one woman all my life.”

“Look at that,” you try to joke. “Another difference between us.”

“Do you mind letting me in, then?”

“A little,” you admit, “but I will since there isn’t really a point to being here if I don’t.”

“That’s the spirit.” You can hear his smile.

You set the cup down again, glancing up at him before fiddling with the laces on your shoe. “People under stress and without anywhere else to turn tend to latch onto the first people they relate to,” you explain, practicing your knot tying with fumbling fingers; there is no harm in practicing your dexterity. “He was the first guy I met after I died, got kidnapped, and almost got killed by a giant vine creature. I like him,” you clarify quickly, “I really do, but it’s hardly fair to pursue that sort of relationship, especially considering everything going on with the Kraang and Shredder.” Your eyes go out of focus. “We get along great,” you mumble. “He’s sweet, kind, generous, and empathetic. He deserves to make sense of his feeling properly without me muddying things up with my possibly trauma-induced attachment.”

“So,” he clarifies, “it is not that you aren’t in love with him, but, instead, you’re worried for his sake?”

Your face goes scarlet as you choke on your saliva. “T-that’s a bit—uh—extreme, isn’t it?” You rub the back of your burning neck. “I’m not even sixteen, Yoshi. You don’t understand love properly at sixteen!”

“I fell for my wife at thirteen,” he smiles. “It’s certainly not impossible.”

“That’s—look,” you protest, “that is entirely besides the point. The point,” you state, “is that is completely irresponsible for me to pursue a relationship with your son. Frankly, I’m surprised you don’t agree.”

“He cares for you. You know that. Who am I to decide who he does and does not pursue, especially when that person makes him happy?” He reaches for a worn kettle sitting between you two on a table, pouring its contents back into his teacup—you remember Leo telling you that it is technically called a yunomi. “I find love typically does no harm so long as it does not consume you. Moderation is key.”

You look up at him. “So, you don’t have any reservations about it?”

He takes another drink. “I wouldn’t say that. He is my son, after all. In truth,” he admits, “I was more concerned that my sons would never experience what I did than anything. Given the circumstances of our existence, I’m sure you can understand my wish to give them a relatively normal, happy life.”

You sigh. “I guess, yeah.” You adjust your blanket again. ‘Seems counterintuitive, teaching them the art of murder, but I guess that’s his normal.’ “That’s just a generally good parenting thing though, right? I’d hope you’d want that even if you weren’t a giant rat and they weren’t anthropomorphic turtles.”

A parent. He is talking to you like one might speak to their kid.

“I suppose so,” he nods. “It’s been difficult, but we’ve certainly come a long way over the years.”

The screeching of tires pierces the still air, the chattering of his four sons bouncing off the concrete walls.

You strain to hear what they are saying. “I never noticed that there was an echo in here. It’s less noticeable than in the tunnel.”

“That’s by design,” he explains. “I’ve made something of an effort to dampen it.”

“Oh, that’s cool.” You set the yunomi on the table. You sigh, holding your breath and downing your now gross, cool tea in three quick gulps. “I hate to cut this short,” you lie, wiping your mouth with your sleeve and tottering to your feet, “but I’ve gotta check to make sure everything went smoothly on their mission and adjust my timetable accordingly.”

He nods, deciding not to point your tell out. “I won’t keep you, then. Would you like to borrow my cane?”

This is not the first time he has offered. You, of course, refuse.

“Oh well. I thought I’d offer.” He sets his cup down, staying seated. “It has been pleasant talking with you, Y/N.”

“Likewise, Mr. Hamato.” You nod once in acknowledgment, hopping over to the door and slipping out into the hallway.

Your stomach churns at the stench coming from the lab—you can smell the gasoline. You lean against the wall, making a pointed effort not to eavesdrop and rapping your knuckles against the door. Their voices immediately lower to hisses and someone drags the door open.

“Hey,” Mikey beams. “We were just talking about you. Need somethin’?”

“Just is an over-exaggeration.” There is a considerable amount of protest as Donnie pulls him away from the door with an uncomfortable edge to his voice. “P-please, come in.”

A beaten DIY van sits pathetically on the subway track, looking not dissimilar to a burnt, crushed soda can from where you stand. The once hot pink graffiti has most certainly seen better days, and you squirm at the thought of the sound it must have made if you understand the situation properly. Raphael, who you glance at out of the corner of your eye, looks similarly beat up. Of course, you are not going to say anything because you value your life.

You whistle, smiling incredulously. “So,” you try not to laugh, “I take it you took on the cucaracha.”

“Made it my bitch is what I did,” boasts Raphael. “Shot it with a laser.”

“Cool, cool.” You chuckle at his excitement. “You take care of the egg?”

Is there a better sight than watching the light in someone’s soul die? You would hesitantly say no. “The what?”

“Right outside the building,” you elaborate. “On the side of the road. Looks like a horrifying imitation of an orbee?’

He takes a slow, deep breath, holds it, exhales. “I’ll be right back,” he says calmly, and sprints out of the lair.

Michelangelo laughs. “Were you being serious or are you messing with him?”

“Serious.” You readjust the blanket, trying to subtly figure out how to breathe without being assaulted by the mechanical smell. “I won’t joke about that sort of thing. It’s cruel.”

He hesitates. “… speaking of, are you alright? I didn’t get to ask before.”

The other two are quietly watching the interaction with an odd amount of intensity.

You shrug. “I guess. Probably.”

“Alright,” he nods. “Just lemme know if you need to talk, alright? Donnie’s no—ow!”

“Don’t talk bad about people in front of them,” Leonardo criticizes. “It’s rude.”

“You called him special, like, four hours ago!”

“The word of the day is hypocrisy.” Donatello puts his hand down.

“Hypocrisy’s right” You rub Mikey’s shell reassuringly. “To be fair, though, Leo could honestly probably just dodge it anyway.”

He leans into it. “I guess,” he grumbles, shooting a look at Donatello. “Favoritism.”

“It’s strategic favoritism,” the tallest brother corrects. “It’s to encourage parti pris.”

“Cronyism,” you tease, grinning. “You mean cronyism.”

“Hey, I’m plenty qualified!”.

You stifle a giggle as his face reddens, looking back over at the battered vehicle, raising an eyebrow.

“That was a team effort.”

“Yeah, okay, Hamato.” You blow a strand out of your face. “How long do you think it’ll take to fix?”

“Half a week? Maybe a bit less.” He looks back at it ruefully. “The spy roach completely jacked it.”

“Clearly.” You remove your hand, Mikey seemingly thoroughly comforted. “Then mind if I borrow a needle and thread so I can fix my jacket? I have school tomorrow.”

“Do you have the dexterity for that?” Leo crosses his arms across his chest absentmindedly.

“If I can hold a pencil,” you reason, “I can do basic stitching. ‘Sides, it’s only gotta hold until I get home.”

“I didn’t know you sewed.”

“I don’t. That’s why I’m asking now.”

Donatello pipes up again. “I really don’t mind—”

“Dude,” you reason, “you have to fix a whole ass van. I’ll manage.”

He pulls his phone from his pocket. “It’s a quarter to twelve. You won’t finish before midnight.”

“Then sucks to be me.” You shrug. “I’ll fix it here and walk home.”

He looks at you with a surprising amount of incredulousness. “It’s New York City.”

“You go out at night all the time,” you protest.

“I can carry you—”

Immediate panic. “Nah, I’m good!” You try to sound confident. “I walk home all the time, remember?”

“Not at midnight.”

“What’s a couple hours difference?” You would rather get attacked or kidnapped than fly over buildings again.

“A hundred-twenty minutes,” he states. “You know that crime is statistically more likely to happen at night, right?”

“That tracks. What’s different?”

“Violent crime peaks at midnight.”

Mikey butts in. “Why can’t she just go in the blanket? It covers enough.”

Donatello rolls his eyes. “Mikey,” he sighs, “she’s a teenage girl walking around with her torso covered by a single conspicuous quilt. Let’s use our heads here.”

It takes him a minute. “So you’re worried about her getting, like, attacked?”

“… were you paying attention to any of the conversation? Or the lesson we just learned?”

“Dude,” he protests, “when do I ever?”

“What, you mean the one where y’all learned to face your fears or the one where talking about people in front of them is rude?”

The bitter edge to your words is not lost on him. “Look,” he reasons with you, “I-I’m not saying you’re incapable of taking care of yourself—”

“You are, but that’s not the point.”

“Shut up, Mikey.” You are surprised he did not punch him, though, admittedly, you can hardly argue the point. “What I mean is that if you put yourself in harm’s way, you’re going to get hurt.” He nods at Leo. “He’s a really experienced fighter and even he gets overwhelmed if he goes out of his way to do something reckless and dangerous like Karai.” He spits out her name like it is poisonous.

“Since when have you had a thing against Karai?”

The eldest brother sighs. “I’m never living that down, am I?”

“Unimportant, and nope. Point is,” he continues, fingers twitching at his sides, “it doesn’t make sense to tempt fate.”

You open your mouth to argue. You close it again. He has an extremely valid point all things considered, especially considering everything that has been happening, and although you are completely certain about your stance on him carrying you home, you would be lying if you said the idea of stumbling home without your walker or shirt sounds very appealing.

“Then what exactly are you suggesting?”

He looks off. “I’m suggesting she stays the night, Leo.”

Mikey blinks. “What, in your room or on the couch?”

“It would be up to her.”

That works for you. “Your home. You pick. Where do you keep your sewing supplies?” You slip out of the circle the four of you have formed.

“On top of the bookshelf,” he points. “Behind the cardboard box.”

You nod, hopping over.

Mikey offers his two cents. “It makes more sense for you two to share a room. It’s kinda cold in the front room, and you guys’ll probably end up going to bed at around the same time anyways. She also has your blanket.”

You stand on your toes, fingertips brushing against a plastic container.

“That’s a fair point.” You catch it before it cracks open on the ground. “Training starts pretty early, so she should have time to grab her things before school.”

“See? Foolproof plan.”

“Would Master Splinter approve?”

“Leo,” you call over your shoulder, “he’s slept over at my house twice already. I really doubt he cares.”

“But we don’t know.”

“Then you can go ask him.” You turn around. “Where’s the jacket?”

“In the cardboard box.” Donnie starts towards the train wreck on the tracks.

You pull it down, taking your shirt and jacket and sitting down, crossing your bad leg under the one you can use, despite the nausea. ‘Exposure therapy.’ “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

You feel a tap on your shoulder. You glance up at Mikey, who crouches down next to you as Leo waves to his brothers and leaves. “You need anything?”

He shakes his head. “Just wanted to hang out with you is all,” he shrugs. “You didn’t go after Donnie.”

“I didn’t,” you nod in agreement.

“Why?”

“Because car.” You unlatch the box, carefully digging around inside for some pins. “That, and the smell is bad enough from over here.”

He crosses his legs in front of him. “That’s fair.” He taps his foot absentmindedly. “You think he knows?”

“I thought I made it pretty damn clear,” you shrug, “but it’s Donnie, so I wouldn’t bet on it.”

He grins at that. “Then do you wanna hang out while you work on that out front? He isn’t exactly talkative when he gets in the zone.”

You shake your head. “If I do, I won’t get much done,” you admit. You unwind a long portion of the thread, snapping it apart. “Besides, the only way to get over a fear is to face it head-on.”

“Alright.” He hops to his feet. “Thought I’d ask. Have fun.”

”Bet,” you mumble through a bit tongue, shaky fingers making threading the needle almost impossible. “You too.”

“See ya.” He waves, running out of the lab.

You let out a breath, picking a piece of loose wire off of a table and creating a poor imitation of a threader. While you genuinely enjoy talking with Michelangelo, you have some things to think over.

Clumsy fingers start on a running stitch. If your timetable still holds true—which, surprisingly enough, it has thus far—the episode after next’s plot will take place in about three weeks. Your cast is coming off in two. You do not know where and when The Kraang are coming through their portal, or if there is any way for you guys to know, but seeing as you are skipping the episode where the turtles get stuck in a labyrinth under the assumption that, without Baxter being bullied by the Shredder and his goons, he has no reason to construct it, you would tentatively estimate the next episode will happen in about a week. You are still fairly sure that Stockman will not get involved with the Shredder without his input until Oroku finally opens his eyes to the dangers and powers of the Kraang, which should happen around the same time as the next episode.

Your eyes glaze over as you get into the groove of it. ‘The next episode is also when the guys get on Karai’s shit list because they betray her, and, if that happens, the episode where the Shredder starts getting involved with the Kraang and comes to appreciate their resources." You prick your finger. ‘It wouldn’t be long after that before Saki gets the idea to create a mutant army, and with Baxter already somewhat on the villainous map, our best chance to make sure he doesn’t end up under his employment is to…’

You wipe the sticky liquid on your jeans, careful of the bandages on your back. ‘It’s not a guarantee that he even knows Baxter exists.’ Your eyebrows furrow in concentration as you try to keep the stitches separated at equal distances. ‘Hell, it’s not a guarantee he’s even alive. Still, it’s better to air on the side of caution and not think about how you’ll have to do it until the time comes.’

You let out a soft sigh. “I’ll buy a gun, when that happens,” you murmur to yourself. “Just want more time where bodily harm is all I have to deal with is all.”

You slide your poorly stitched jacket over your shoulders under the blanket, pulling your sleeves into place and zipping it up. After folding the blanket up and draping it over your arm, you pull yourself to your feet, hopping over to Donatello and his death trap as he sat down, looking over his work. “How’re the repairs comin’?”

The two of you have not spoken for the three hours it took you to repair the jacket, and significantly more progress has been made on his end than yours. At the very least, the generally rectangular frame was pounded back into submission.

He looks over at you, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand and stifling a yawn. “Fine,” he sighs, looking back at the hulking mass of metal as you lower yourself down next to him. “It won’t blow up or anything if it’s driven, but it still needs another day’s worth of work to get it back to where it was before.” You nod along as he goes into more intimate detail, not understanding half of it, but happy to just listen to him talk resentfully about the whole process that you can tell he genuinely does not mind.

“Sounds like a time.” You rest your head on your good knee. “And you’re not gonna fix the graffiti?”

“It rubs off,” he shrugs. “Besides, it’s not exactly important to the design.”

Your head bends in a subtle nod, cheek numb from the pressure of your knee. “Are you going to sleep today?”

He shrugs. “Maybe? It wouldn’t be a bad idea.” His legs are almost crisscrossed in front of him, and he leans his weight back on his skinny, muscular arms. “I honestly don’t want to leave it alone, though. It would be weird to just leave it unfinished.

“Hardly, but alright.” You sit up for a moment, handing him back his quilt. “Thanks for giving me something to cover myself up with, and for not ditching me on a roof, and patching me up, and—I owe you, is what I’m getting at.”

He smiles tiredly. “Don’t worry about it, really,” he reassures you, his face flushing and muscles relaxing slightly. “You’ve made it up plenty.”

“I disagree. I’ve never saved your life.” You trace the fading lines on your cast his brother had left.

“I don’t think a ton of people would literally kill someone for me and my family,” he argues. “That’s pretty awesome, right?”

‘Not sure how I feel about framing murder as a positive thing.’ You do not say anything, looking back at his work.

He sighs. “You should go to bed,” he advises practically. “It’s getting late.”

“Never stopped you.” You straighten your legs. “I’ll go if you come with.”

“Tempting,” he teases with a sudden burst of confidence, hoping to his feet and outstretching his arm to help you up, “but what’s in it for me?”

Your face lights up as your face goes red at his borderline roguishness, taking his arm pulling yourself up. “For as much shit as you’re going to get for it,” you promise, pecking where his nose would be with an almost kittenish smile, “I’ll get up extra early, make everyone breakfast, and go topside for coffee.”

His face almost turns the shade of a human blush, forwardness gone in an instant. “C-can’t,” he stutters, clearly flustered. “When I was eleven, I got addicted to it and I’m not allowed to have any anymore.”

“Relatable,” you giggle. You blow the hair out of your face, comfortable as he helps you walk towards the door, the air between you two charged with electricity. “Is that for all caffeine or just coffee?”

He opens it for the two of you, ever the gentleman with the quilt over his shoulder. “Tea’s fine. Don’t bring tea down, though,” he quickly clarifies. “Leo’ll have a very inconspicuous fit.”

You blink curiously, looking up at him as he pulls you along. “Why?”

“It’s the one food thing he’s particular about,” he shrugs, not bothering to hide his gooey smile as you use his upper arm for support. “Couldn’t tell you why.”

“Are you particular about any foodstuff?”

“Not really?” He helps you up a few steps. “I’m not Mikey, but I don’t think I’m that picky about that sort of thing.”

“That’s fair.”

You do not let go of his arm to use the wall. You do not even think to if Donnie is reading your body language correctly. His smile widens as he opens the door for you.

You give a nod as thanks, lowering down onto the foot of his relatively narrow bed. “Alright,” you clap your hands together quietly as he sits next to you. “How do you wanna do this?”

You are sitting on his bed, willing, with no pretense other than sleeping getter. He is currently on cloud nine.

You look back at the frame. ”Too narrow for us to lay side by side,” you note. “You sleep on your front, meaning you will likely take up most of the room." You look between him and the bed, trying to imagine a position that would work. “You could lay on top of me, I guess, but then your legs would hang off the end.”

“I can sleep on my side,” he offers hurriedly. “If that makes things easier, I mean.”

“You sure?” Your fingers fumble with your shoelaces.

He nods eagerly. “S-so long as you still don’t mind being close to me, I mean. The bed’s still kinda narrow.”

You roll your eyes, smiling. “We’ve slept together before,” you reason. “If you wanted to pull anything, you would’ve the other two times.”

He glances off, face still red. “Y-yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck bashfully. “That makes sense.”

You gesture to the bed. “Then,” you nod once, “so long as you’re comfortable, you lay down. I’ll work from there.”

He tentatively lays himself down, facing the wall, tensing ever so slightly as you lay behind him, legs curling up under his thighs.

You lay your arm under your head as a pillow, the other pulling the blanket over the two of you. “This work,” you whisper, closing your eyes.

“Mhm,” he hums, covering his face with his hands. “We closed the door, right?”

You look back over. “Yup.”

“Locked it?”

“Seems so.”

He relaxes a bit. “Alright,” he nods, quietly reveling in the way your fingers, again, traced the indentations in his shell like the first night.

‘When I wake up tomorrow,’ he realizes, ‘she’ll be right there. Right behind me, in my bed. By choice.’ He smiles behind his fingers. ‘When we get older, maybe we could have our own place. Or our own room, more accurately, where she just lives with us. Imagine her moving in. If—no, when,’ he corrects himself, ‘we defeat The Shredder, if I ever get the nerve, I’ll ask her.’ He reaches his leg back, entangling it with yours carefully. ‘Would we have to get married first? No, you move in before you get married, right? I should’ve paid more attention during those movie marathons.’ He closes his eyes as you drift off, focusing on this train of thought. ‘How long do you need to be in a relationship before you get married? How would we get married, even? Legally, that would be impossible, right? I can’t go to a courthouse. And if we had a child—practically speaking, of course—would they live with us or go to a public school? We could give them a good education, I’m sure, but—’

You shift in your sleep, absently laying your arm over his side and pulling him closer.

He exhales, allowing himself to relax back into you. ‘Not tonight.’ He rests his hand on top of yours. ‘It’s too late, too soon.’ His thumb runs along the back of your hand, letting himself drift off in your arms.

‘It’ll be okay. We’ll last long enough to take it slow.’

Table of Contents

Chapter 13

Chapter 15

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itsclydebitches · 4 years ago

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I know the season is over but thinking about it now, what exactly was the team's long-term plan once they evacuated the people and the relics to Vacuo? They wouldn't be able to summon the Gods because they still don't have the Beacon relic so Salem would just do a literal rinse and repeat of what happened to Atlas.

As far as I can tell they didn’t have one. Which, to be fair to them, Ironwood didn’t have one either. Ironwood at the end of Volume 7 and Ruby at the end of Volume 8 both went, “We can’t stop Salem, so all we can do for now is get as far away from her as possible.” But that’s why Ruby’s choice to stay and fight is so strange. She knows she can’t beat Salem and... she didn’t. Imagine that. If reinforcements had somehow arrived (which, given what little we know about the world, Ruby should have realized was impossible) they still wouldn’t have been able to beat Salem. This wasn’t even a case of Ruby doing what she claimed in Volume 7: we’re remaining only long enough to ensure that everyone is evacuated. She didn’t help with the evacuation! She jumped straight to trying to bring more people to Atlas, then sat around for a while, then when no one came she went, ‘Oh, I guess we can just leave now using the Relic we had access to this whole time’ and then she left a ton of people behind anyway.

Like the story ignoring that Ruby made the same morally gray choice she condemned Ironwood for in the previous volume, the fandom tends to ignore that Ruby is making the same mistakes everyone condemns Ozpin for. And no, I don’t just mean those lies and secrets. Ozpin gets a lot of heat for failing to come up with a way to stop Salem, but so far Ruby isn’t even trying. She was more than happy to just be a huntress in Atlas indefinitely, never telling Ironwood about the immortality problem until the final hour, never speaking with her teammates about their options. Ren was the only one going, ‘Hey, what about the big picture here? What are we going to do about Salem?’ for which he was designated a bad, pessimistic friend. The most common defense for this is that Ruby is just a poor, stressed teenager who is not responsible for solving this impossible problem... but that stopped being the case when she started deciding things against Ozpin’s recommendations (the Lamp), became an official huntress, turned on Ironwood, and presented herself as the world’s savior through that message. You can’t systematically dismantle all the leaders already trying to solve this problem, make yourself the new leader... and then claim it’s not on you to fix this.

The second most common defense is that Ruby hasn’t had thousands of years to come up with something which, very true. But she’s had a decent amount of time to start thinking about something and... she hasn’t. She’s purely reactive, only dealing with Salem when Salem is right outside her door. What people tend to forget is that Ozpin did have a long-term plan. Not to stop Salem indefinitely, but to weaken her to such an extent that she wouldn’t be nearly the threat she is now: create schools to combat her grimm, keep the Relics out of her reach, try to bring unity to the world through groups like the White Fang and the bandits. It was a good plan when no other plans were on the table, yet Ruby and her friends have not only failed to come up with something better after her uncle punched Ozpin into a tree over that failing, she’s also destroyed so much of the work Ozpin managed across those generations. Ruby chose to keep the Lamp out in the open rather than telling Ironwood that it still had a question and should be locked up, now the Lamp and its question are gone. Ruby chose to take the Staff out of its vault and bring two Relics together (foolish on its own) and now the Staff is gone. Ruby chose to oppose Ironwood’s plan and, as a result, took out the entirety of Atlas and Mantle with her wish. A Kingdom is gone and that wasn’t Salem’s doing. She barely did anything this volume, spending 95% of it just sitting in her whale or reforming. It’s Ruby’s choices that lost two Relics and took out the most advanced kingdom Remnant has, dumping all its survivors in a hostile land that is not ready to receive evacuees.

Ruby has less of a plan than Ozpin did and she’s become someone who is entirely passive up until someone forces her to act... and then she makes pretty reckless decisions. Ruby, as a character, doesn’t function based on logic, plans, strategy, knowledge, or intellect. She used to, but not anymore. Ruby is a character who gets by on being The Protagonist. That’s why Amity is suddenly finished for her, why the plot drops a solution into her lap, and why no one questions whether this is really a good way to go about things. Or, if they do, they’re rejected like Ren/quickly forget it like Yang. And this extends to all her allies too. Why does Willow hand Weiss perfect evidence to convict Jacques? Why does Whitely hand the group three solutions (a doctor, the airships, and blueprints)? Why does Oscar suddenly have a bomb in his cane? Why do their enemies turn the second they need them to? The group rarely needs to formulate short-term plans, let alone long-term, because the world just twists and turns to ensure they get whatever they need whenever they need it. How did YJR get into the whale? Doesn’t matter! What benefit did that have when Oscar was already escaping? That also doesn’t matter! To ask what the group’s plans are is to assume the story intends to hold them accountable for their ideas, skill, and choices. It doesn’t. If Ruby needs Amity to be finished, it’s finished between volumes. If Ruby needs her eyes to go off, they go off. If Ruby needs an excuse not to choose between Mantle and Atlas, Penny drops down in her backyard. The assumption that Ruby might have to abandon something she wants to do because of a limitation, or think ahead to what she’ll do if her eyes fail her, or actually make the choice she’s been putting off for two days, likewise assumes Ruby is still written as a complex, flawed, growing character. Sadly, she hasn’t been that for three years.

#rwby #mymetas #Anonymous

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rodeoxqueen · 4 years ago

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Hi hi!! I was wondering if you could do hcs of DMC boys spending times with their kids at the amusement park and at the end they take pictures with each other thank you so muc ^^

Howdy Howdy,

Of course I can, gorgeous.

Enjoy,

Rodeo.

Dante

“Kids! Wake up, wake up, we’re going to the amusement park!” He screams as he kicks the door down. The kids aren’t expecting it but they were overjoyed regardless.

Just as excited as his kids to go to amusement parks. He drives them the whole way over talking about which rides they should go on. They miss their turns several times.

Daddy Dante got the full dad in amusement park attire. Hawaiian shirt, board shorts, and flamingo socks with sandals.

It helps to be super strong, he holds all their stuff.

He races the kids to the lines. He basically lets them do what they want but he wants to go on the scary rides. Good thing it’s not their turn with the Sparda brain cell, they fear nothing.

“Wow, they say this ride is not suitable for sick people, pregnant women, old people, and people with common sense and self-respect. Well kids, it’s good that’s not any of us.”

“Dad, you’re pretty old.”

“Do you want to ride this death trap or not?”

“Nevermind, you don’t look a day over twenty, dad.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He wins them all the prizes. One of his kids runs around with the largest unicorn known to man while the vendor tells Dante that no, he cannot use Ebony and Ivory to win anymore stuffed animals.

“It’s so fluffy I’m gonna die!!”

“Kiddo, can that wait? We still have several rides to go on.”

Dante even has the dinky cameras with the photos you get developed at the print store. All of them are blurred or one of the kids makes a weird face in it. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

You know those punching bags they have that measure your strength? Well, Dante is super cocky stepping up to punch the daylights out of it.

The goofy dad misses, his fist going straight through the machine and lifting it out of the cement. His kids cheer as he realizes what he’s done.

“Did I win?”

“Sir, you need to pay for that.”

“Kids, book it and scatter! They can’t catch all of us.”

They are banned from that park. No regrets.

They go home, sunburnt, faces sticky with candy and all sorts of fried foods, and arms fulls of prizes. They don’t even make it to their rooms before they all pass out in the living room.

Dante buys so many pictures they took from the rides. They join the rest of his wallet photos.

Lady and Trish are mad he spent so much on one excursion, but seeing how happy he was with his kids, they don’t say anything.

Vergil

It isn’t until his kids plead and whine to him for weeks that he will open a portal to this “amusement park.”

“But Father, all the other kids get to go!”

“It is a frivolous waste of time.”

“Uncle Dante is so cool, our cousins got to go-”

“Where is it.”

He’ll be damned before his brother is considered “cooler” to his own children.

He’s the dad that doesn’t want to be there but relented for his kids. Another unamused dad stands next to him as they watch their kids go feral.

“You too, huh?”

“Don’t talk to me.”

He stands next to them in the long lines to ensure their safety. He glares at anyone who tries to cut in line.

“Cut in line in front of my children again. Try it. I will cut you.”

His kids get first in line since no one wants to stand behind Vergil. When the ride takes their photos, employees are shocked to see he is stone-faced the whole ride.

“Hell had better drops than this.”

His kids win prizes by themselves, Vergil once again relenting and handing them bills.

They run over to him with their own prizes and he pats them on the head.

“I expected nothing less.”

Vergil does not want his kids to get sick from all the sweets they wish to consume. He lets them choose a few things and then he cuts them off.

He sits down in the shade as his kids continue to play and run around.

It isn’t until they point to the strength tester that Vergil gets up again. He knows it’s rigged. He initially refuses, but when someone calls him a wuss he removes his jacket and snatches the hammer from the vendor.

Vergil hits the scale so hard that the puck flies straight off the scale and enters the stratosphere.

“Are we done now?”

He is handed an armful of tickets. His kids praise their father while he smugly smirks at the people who taunted him.

“Foolish.”

The pictures booth is thoroughly stuffed with all of his kids and their toys and stuffed animals. He is literally shoved into the background, all the weight on his lap as he tries not to asphyxiate. When the photos come out, you can only see the top part of his face.

They all go home, thoroughly entertained. Vergil acts like he doesn’t care and that the trip was mundane. But only he knows, he was smiling in all of the booth photos. Good thing he’ll take that to the grave.

His children see the posters around town for the amusement parks when he takes them out on afternoon strolls to the park. He’s an observant father, who notices how his kin gathers around the idea of this “amusement park.”

“Dad, can we please go?” They shyly ask.

“But of course.” He says.

He is not prepared for the chaotic nature of these crowded social events. It’s hot, he’s sweating, everything is so expensive, it’s loud……

Since he is unnaturally pale, he always applies sunscreen. His kids are also slathered in it before they go running about.

Bless him. He tries so hard to keep up in the sweltering heat. His kids notice he’s lagging behind so they decide to stay in one place so he can sit and observe.

At least the burgers and fries are good here. His kids run about, asking him to try what deep-fried and sugary creations they have found. He’s very fond of cotton candy and how it disappears on his tongue.

Shadow tries to eat garbage and Griffon is heckling the street performers.

V’s children beg him to come with them and practically drag him to the rides. He pales at the screams of other people.

He relents and he goes on the rides. His kids feel awful after he throws up after the third repeat of the most infamous attraction.

They leave him alone after that, letting him recover at a table. His familiars follow his children around to make sure nothing bad happens.

It’s not his scene, however….

He’s the new champ of guessing how many things are in a jar. He rests his head on his cane as he observes each marble, each little figurine before he guesses an incredibly close number.

His children are shocked to come back to him and find the piles of tickets he’s won.

His kids get themselves giant chicken and cat plushies.

“Hey, V! Not funny!” Griffon declares in indignance at the chicken plushies his master’s children run about with. Shadow is quite a fan, keeping one in her mouth.

Finally, it has gotten late and they all decide to take pictures. You know damn well that Griffon and Shadow wish to partake in this.

V keeps the photos tucked in his book.

Despite the literal spiraling rollercoaster that is amusement parks, he would do it all over again to see his children so overjoyed.

#dante headcanons #dante sparda #v headcanons #dmc5 v #vergil headcanons #vergil sparda #dmc headcanons #devil may cry headcanons

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electrickoushi · 4 years ago

Text

bakugo and todoroki’s super secret santa mission

a/n: happy holidays everyone. this was a fic I wrote for one of my friends for xmas. enjoy reading!

pairing: bakugo katsuki x todoroki shoto tags: fluff, pre-relationship, swearing (a normal amount for bakugo), tdbk in love! wc: 7.8k

Class 1-A's Secret Santa poses a large problem for Bakugo Katsuki. It’s such a large problem that he has to ask for stupid IcyHot's help in finding a present. In return, he helps Todoroki with his present search (and perhaps catches feelings in the process, but shh, we don't talk about that).

The mall was so crowded that Bakugo was having an awful time finding Todoroki. At this time of year, he easily blended in with the horrible, glittery candy cane decorations.

Bakugo found him standing near the children’s play structure. He looked like a lost puppy, spinning around in search of the familiar blonde spikes and scowl. He squinted his eyes at Bakugo and waved. A small smile spread on Todoroki’s face at the sight of his friend.

Bakugo rolled his eyes at his behavior but walked towards him. They were supposed to meet at the other play structure that was on the opposite side of the mall. Todoroki must have gotten them mixed up again.

“There you are. I’ve been texting you,” Bakugo yelled once he was in yelling distance.

Todoroki looked down at his phone in his left hand as if he forgot it was there. So that’s what the vibrations were? He just assumed it was Midoriya sending him pictures of his new video game.

34 texts and 3 missed calls.

Oops, my bad. “Didn’t we say to meet near the children’s play area?” Todoroki asked, blinking in confusion as he frowned and stood up. He put his phone in the pocket of his blue coat and unwound his scarf from his neck.

“Yeah, the one on the South side,” Bakugo sighed in annoyance. “It doesn’t matter though, just help me so I can get out of here.”

“Okay, help me with Kirishima first. I’m not sure what to get him.”

“I know, and I don’t know what to get ‘Miss I can literally create whatever the fuck I want.’ We’ve been over this. Lucky for you, I have an idea for Kirishima.”

Bakugo grabbed Todoroki’s arm and dragged him along, making sure to not lose him in the crowd of frantic shoppers. If he had to waste another twenty minutes looking for the candy cane boy, it may just end with the building in flames.

They headed in the direction that Bakugo came from. He specifically asked for them to meet at the South side play structure since it was near the store he wanted to show Todoroki, but that plan clearly didn’t work out. So they made a short trek to the opposite side of the mall.

It would have been fine if Todoroki didn’t look at the windows of every single shop they passed.

He was infatuated with almost every product displayed in the windows. It didn’t matter whether it was a speaker, a t-shirt, or a toy—he wanted it all. He could probably afford it all too, with that black credit card he carried that belonged to his father.

Bakugo eventually dropped his arm. They were out of the most congested parts of the mall. They should be fine.

Yet in a few minutes, when Bakugo turned around to check if his classmate was following him, he saw nothing but empty air.

It was a few minutes before Bakugo found the tall boy surrounded by little midgets.

“Come on Icyhot, we don’t have time for this,” Bakugo scoffed, finding him in a Build-A-Bear.

Todoroki turned around to see Bakugo behind him, arms crossed and seething.

“But I want one. They’re so cute and soft. Look.” Its head drooped forward as Todoroki held the unstuffed bear out to show his friend.

Bakugo thought it was kind of ugly. It looked really scratchy too. Out of all the finished models sitting on their shelves, Todoroki somehow managed to pick the most hideous one.

The entire idea of Build-A-Bear was kind of disturbing to him. You paid money to take what is essentially a corpse of a toy, pump some white stuffing into it, and then put a little mass-produced heart in it. Then you would wash it, with air? And give it clothing? Weren’t stuffed animals loved because you could pretend they were alive? How were you supposed to think it was alive when you literally stuffed its guts and organs back into its skin? In conclusion, Build-A-Bear was ruining the imaginations and childhoods of its customers.

Bakugo glowered at Todoroki until he dejectedly threw the unstuffed bear back into the bin and followed him out of the store. Bakugo was right; they didn’t have time for this. This shopping trip was meant to find presents for Kirishima and Momo.

“Just go pull an old one out of storage at your house or something. I’m sure you have a million,” said Bakugo as they walked to the store Bakugo wanted to go in all along.

“Oh, I’ve never had one. Did you?” Todoroki asked, Bakugo dropping his arm once he realized.

Fuck, how could he have forgotten again? Childhood was always a touchy subject for his classmate, he knew that. He didn’t mean to make such a careless comment. “Yeah, I, uh, just assumed every kid had one at some point. Sorry,” he mumbled.

Silence fell between them as they finally made it to the shop that hopefully held Kirishima’s present.

“Here,” Bakugo pointed to a pair of shoes in the window. “He would probably want these.”

“Those are ugly though,” Todoroki bluntly pointed out. They were a white pair of chunky Fila shoes.

Did you see the stuffed animal you were holding? “I agree, but anything is a step up from those red crocs he wears all the time,” sighed Bakugo.

He went into the relatively empty store and found a pair of the same shoes in a size 10, then shoved them into Todoroki’s arms. “There you go. Go buy them.”

Todoroki turned around and walked towards the counter.

A girl stood at the counter, clearly bored with her minimum wage job. When she looked up and noticed him, she immediately put on her best smile and fiddled with her hair. She made a weird face once she noticed his scar but wiped off the frown after a few seconds. “Are you ready to checkout?” she chirped.

Her voice was awful. Nasally and partially responsible for Bakugo’s oncoming headache. “Fucking ridiculous,” Bakugo scoffed under his breath. “He shouldn’t get special treatment because he’s pretty. Everything in the world should be based solely on firepower.”

Todoroki replied, “Yes I am.” Completely oblivious.

Bakugo could not understand how someone could be so dense. He was one of the top students in the class, probably the entire school. He always made good snap decisions when under pressure. He was a good fighter, with or without his quirk. He was powerful and smart and strong. So how could he not notice when someone was clearly trying to flirt with him?

Bakugo crossed his arms and pretended to be intensely looking at some shoe displayed on the shelf. He glanced over every so often to make sure that Todoroki wasn’t about to get swindled out of everything he owned. He wouldn't put it past the poor, innocent boy.

Todoroki smiled at her, thanking her for her help, and Bakugo actually felt the girl’s soul ascend.

He walked over to the register and tried his best not to glare at the pair. She was really getting on his nerves.

Shit, he forgot about the budget limit they set.

Todoroki pulled out the credit card from his wallet and handed it to the salesgirl who was rambling about some deal that was going on as she punched something on her screen. He stared at her blankly, zoning out and probably thinking about the next soba dish he could have if Bakugo had to guess.

Bakugo pushed Todoroki’s warm hand away, almost slapping the card out of it, and the girl visibly scowled at him. Wow, lady, don’t try so hard to hide your disdain. He glared at her.

“Bakugo, what’s wrong?”

“I forgot to look at their price.” He turned to the salesgirl who was clearly annoyed. Good, maybe she would finally take a hint. “We can’t buy these.” He grabbed Todoroki’s free hand and tried to pull him away, but Todoroki stood there.

“Wait, but Kirishima will like these. It’s fine, I will just get them customized if they don’t fit the budget requirements that were set.” He handed the card to the girl who immediately sent a bright smile his way despite her eyes being fixed on Bakugo. She was plotting ways to murder him, he could tell. It was the same look plastered on his face for the majority of the day.

Bakugo cursed out Todoroki’s back but let the purchase continue. It wasn’t his money that was being spent, so who cared. Todoroki egregiously disrespecting the budget was somehow so on-brand for him.

She checked them out and handed them the box with a receipt. “Bye! Good luck with your shopping,” she said to Todoroki, completely ignoring Bakugo.

Todoroki pulled away from the blonde’s hand to put his card away and grab the shoe box. Bakugo flinched, dropping his hand. He forgot that he took it to drag the taller boy out in the first place.

Once they were out of the store, Bakugo snatched the receipt from Todoroki. He was appalled at the price. “11,500 yen? Are you serious? They said to keep it around 2,000.”

“It’s fine. They probably won’t be able to tell,” Todoroki said in his usual serious tone.

Bakugo stood and stared, surprised at the boy’s ignorant thinking. Uraraka would pass away if she was here right now. “Are you joking?”

Todoroki frowned, “No, are you joking?”

“No, I’m not. I don’t care though. It’s your money.” Bakugo went to throw the receipt away when he saw handwritten numbers at the bottom.

She didn’t.

Bakugo studied it more closely.

She did.

“Todoroki, how the fuck do you get all these people falling in love with you? You literally just stand there and trip over your words and smile. It may be endearing sometimes, but that still doesn’t explain anything.”

Todoroki cocked his head and peered over the blonde’s shoulder. “What did she write?”

“It’s her phone number, dumbass.” He balled up the paper and threw it in the nearest trash can.

“Hey, what if I wanted that?” Todoroki stared down at the crumpled paper.

“Why would you ever want to talk to someone like her?”

“No, I meant the receipt.”

Un-fucking-believable. Bakugo walked away from headache reason number two and towards the mall map. If Half-and-Half couldn’t keep up with him, then it was his problem. It was too tiring, corralling the boy. He had been here for at least an hour by now, and he hadn’t even gotten his gift for Ponytail.

Someone’s hand brushed his side and he recoiled at the touch. He turned his head to find the red and white-haired boy standing beside him. When the hell did he get behind him?

Mint permeated the air around them as Todoroki stood near his friend. His soft, even breathing brushed against Bakugo’s ear as he searched for the perfect place. A pleasant sense of peacefulness washed over the blonde as he felt the heat of his classmate’s left side gently radiate off him.

Todoroki pressed his long finger against the virtual map. “There’s a customization store over here it looks like.”

Todoroki’s words pulled Bakugo out of his daze. He must have been getting tired or bored, waiting for the other boy to make up his mind. “Fine, we’ll go there.” Only because it was close. “But then we are getting Momo’s present and leaving.”

They worked their way to the customization store that was conveniently close by.

The interior decor was not awful and there was no one trying to flirt with Todoroki, so this was considered a good place in Bakugo’s book. Todoroki seemed almost overwhelmed with the bright colors and loud bass that vibrated through the floor. His eyes wandered around, taking in the funky colors bathed in the low lighting.

Bakugo seized the box of shoes from Todoroki’s arms. He would have to do it or they would get nowhere.

“Hey, can we get these customized?” he shouted over the music, marching up to the counter.

The man spun around. “Sure, dude, what do you want on ‘em?” Oh no, not a skater guy.

Skater guys were right below annoying sales girls on Bakugo’s list of “Things I hate but must tolerate occasionally.”

“Todoroki, come here. What do you want to put on them?” Bakugo glanced back to see if his classmate actually listened. The blonde was surprised to find the other’s face only a few inches away from his.

Bakugo shifted to the right to make room at the counter. Todoroki stared down at the shoes then up at the man who was waiting patiently for their answer. “I’m not sure,” he finally said.

“You insisted that they be customized but you didn’t even know what you wanted on them?” scoffed Bakugo. He was this close to leaving and finding Momo’s present on his own.

Todoroki shrugged, looking back and forth between the blonde and the friendly cashier.

“It’s all good, bro. Have a look around with your... friend here.” He nodded towards Bakugo who was currently muttering every insult he could think of at the red and white-haired boy. “We’re open until ten, you have all the time in the world.”

“Thank you, sir,” Todoroki said. He turned around, clutching the box of shoes to his chest and looking around at the various options offered in the store. It seemed like he was having trouble concentrating.

Bakugo whipped around again, “Can you turn the music down?”

The man nodded and adjusted the volume so that it was at a normal level. Todoroki sent Bakugo a grateful look.

“Sorry, little dude, business is slow around here so I gotta pass the time somehow.” He stepped out from behind the counter. “There are some common designs over on that wall. Colors are right next to them and fonts next to those. Prices are over here by the register. If you have any questions, just ask me.”

This man had the patience of a saint, Bakugo decided. If he was faced to help the clueless idiot that possessed Todoroki on a daily basis, he would have burnt down the place in an instant.

Todoroki smiled. “Thank you, sir!” He strode toward the colors and surveyed his options.

“Bakugo, what do you think about this?” he asked, looking up. Hair fell in his eyes. He squeezed them shut and shook his head to clear it out of the way. He blinked a few times before staring widely at his friend again, grey and blue eyes shining.

Bakugo blinked away his thoughts and walked over to where Todoroki was standing and pointing to a color. It was a deep red that was slightly darker than Shitty Hair’s shitty hair.

“If you match it with black, like his hero costume, but you also put some white on it, I think it’ll look really cool. I think I will also put ‘Red Riot’ on it. What do you think?” He looked at Bakugo for confirmation.

Bakugo couldn’t help but smile as he pictured his friend’s reaction. “Yeah, he’ll eat that shit up for sure.”

Todoroki nodded and went to survey the different fonts. They were displayed on a small tablet that was connected to the large flat screen hanging above them. He scrolled through hundreds of fonts, double-tapping them to place a star next to his favorites.

“I like this one. Or, wait, this one is nice. This one is sort of manly though.” Once again, Todoroki was overwhelmed with choices and in need of some guidance.

Bakugo nudged the boy over so he could have complete control over the tablet. “What about this one?”

Todoroki tilted his head up to see a font he must have missed: big block letters that looked like they were aggressively painted with bold strokes. He smiled the same brilliant smile that he flashed at the salesgirl and skater man. “I think it’s perfect.”

The pair returned to the counter and to the whistling man who was sorting t-shirts into their respective piles. He noticed they were coming back over, so he quickly folded the last shirt before turning around to face the register.

“Okay, sir, I think we have finally decided.” Todoroki recited the codes back to the man as he punched them into the tablet.

“Very cool choices, give me a few seconds for a rough sketch that you can review before OK-ing it.” He grabbed a stylus from a tin nestled in the corner and started to draw random lines. At least, they looked pretty random to the two. They were shocked at the final design.

With slight direction and input from the boys, the man had created the coolest design either of them had ever seen. They told him about the gears on Kirishima’s costume and he incorporated them on the sides of the wording. He also added flecks of white like Todoroki had previously suggested to Bakugo before when they were picking out colors, as well as other patterns and highlights.

The man tilted the tablet towards the students. “Do you like it? If not, I have another idea.”

“Wow, yeah, that’s amazing,” Bakugo uttered.

Todoroki was just as shell-shocked as the former. “That’s perfect. Thank you so much.” He handed the credit card to the man.

“I just need to warn you that it’s not cheap. It’s about 8,000 yen for that design.” He expected the boy to retract his card, but he kept his arm sticking out.

“Oh, that’s fine. Thanks, I appreciate it.”

The artist took the card from him and looked at the name on the back: Enji Todoroki. So that’s where all this money came from.

He swiped the card and handed it back to the boy, along with the receipt. “If you leave the shoes here, then you can collect them in about a week. Just call ahead and we will get them ready for easy pickup.”

Todoroki frowned. “Oh, I thought you were going to do it right now since you were so fast with the sketch.”

Bakugo rolled his eyes at the ignorant behavior, but the man just laughed. “That’s flattering if you think I could do that all on the shoe itself, but we send them, along with this sketch, to a professional place.”

Todoroki nodded in understanding and placed the shoes on the counter. “Okay, thank you. I will call you in a week.”

“No problem, see you then.” He wished them luck on the rest of their shopping as they left the store. Maybe Skater Guy wasn’t so bad, Bakugo thought, he was a really talented artist and didn’t even snap at Todoroki once.

They were met with loud holiday music and warm air once they entered the main part of the mall and walked toward the directory. The onslaught of frenetic shoppers barrelled past without a second thought and would have dragged Todoroki away if not for Bakugo grabbing onto his arm at the last second.

“Fucking finally. Now what the hell do I buy?” sighed Bakugo as he scanned the section labeled “Women’s Clothing.” If all else failed, he would just buy her a scarf or something.

Bakugo never wanted to be a part of the gift exchange in the first place. It took days of Deku hounding him, Kirishima begging him, and Sero straight-up bullying him to get him to put his name in the hat.

He knew he shouldn’t have succumbed to the peer pressure when Iida came to his desk and told him that he would have to give a gift to Momo. The Yaoyorozu Momo, Quirk: Creation; aka, she could create literally anything she wanted to, so why the fuck did Bakugo have to buy her something?

Unfortunately for him, Momo was really looking forward to the Secret Santa. She couldn’t help but gush about it to her girlfriend Jirou, who would do anything to make sure Momo had a wonderful Christmas, even if that meant harassing a certain spiky blonde gremlin.

Bakugo wasn’t scared of her, no, not at all. Just like how he was not somewhat fearful of Sero, the only person Bakugo had ever met who was immune to his snarky comments and mean words.

After pressuring Iida enough to force him to reveal Momo’s gift-giver, Jirou came over and threatened Bakugo, hissing and engaging in an arguing match with him. It ended with Bakugo promising that he would give her a nice gift. Deku was amazed at Jirou’s success.

That’s how he ended up here, at the mall, with the one and only infuriating Todoroki Shoto by his side.

“I don’t know,” Todoroki frowned, scanning the directory to find a suitable store.

“You, what?” Bakugo must have heard him wrong. He must have heard him wrong because if not, then what was he even doing here?

“I don’t know what to get Momo.”

“Are you fucking serious? I literally agreed to meet you here because you said you could help me. I just hauled my ass around this stupid mall trying to help you get a good gift, and in return, you tell me you don’t know what to get her? I cannot believe-”

Todoroki turned and walked away. He learned that’s what you are supposed to do from Midoriya’s guide he passed out to the class named Dealing with Bakugo Katsuki 101. There was a section that Midoriya entitled “Feral Bakugo.” This must have been what he meant.

Method #1: Just walk away.

Bakugo chased after him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Half-and-Half Bastard? Don’t walk away from me when I’m fucking talking to you, you son of a-”

Mothers covered their children’s ears and glared at the blonde because of his open profanity. People walked around him, wanting to avoid the shit that was inevitable about to go down.

Todoroki sighed. He would have to move on to method two. He turned around and stared at Bakugo with a blank look on his face.

Method #2: Stare at him to make him uncomfortable or confused.

“Okay, what the shit? You’re kind of creeping me out.” Bakugo stopped growling and being an overall barbarian in public. Mission: accomplished.

Todoroki was about to speak when something caught his eye in the display case behind him. He walked past Bakugo to see what was sparkling.

Bakugo turned around as the boy ignored him. “What the hell are you looking at now?” he snarled, still angry that Todoroki was ignoring him.

Todoroki pressed his face up to the glass, close enough that his breath fogged the display case. “Do you think Momo will like these?”

Cute glass figurines sat on a bed of cotton strewn about to look like fake snow. Glitter was sprinkled along the shelf and vinyl clings of snowflakes were stuck to the window. Wooden carvings rested near the glass characters, along with other useless knick-knacks and baubles. Bakugo found the whole display tacky, but Todoroki seemed to be enchanted by it.

“Let’s look at them more closely.” Todoroki grabbed Bakugo’s hand and pulled him into the store, seeming to forget about his so-called “feral behavior” three seconds ago.

The store had the exact opposite vibe as the customization one. It looked to be a novelty gift store. It was totally decked out in Christmas decorations, with lights hanging everywhere and Christmas music blaring loudly.

Todoroki immediately found the glass figurines in a box. He handed it to Bakugo for closer inspection, cold hand briefly brushing against the warmer one.

“She can just make these herself. They’re just pure glass anyway.”

“Sure she can, but it’s the thought that counts. Also, I don’t think she would ever think to make them.” Momo would never use her quirk in such a self-indulgent way. The only time she ever manifested items was when it was for others.

He had a point. “You’re right,” Bakugo conceded, flipping the box over to see the price. 5,500 yen, ouch. “But it’s still over the price range.”

“She won’t know though.”

Once again, he had a point. Momo had never been good at guessing the price of an object, probably because she never had to pay attention to it. Unlike Kirishima who would be able to tell just how expensive his customized shoes were, Momo might not even think to consider the price.

At the end of the day, Bakugo had to admit that Todoroki was pretty good at this gift-giving thing, but he wouldn't be caught dead ever saying that aloud.

Bakugo agreed to buy the figures, satisfying the other boy. The cashier easily rang up the figurines and they were out of the store in ten minutes.

Now that both presents had been bought, Bakugo was in a much better mood. The anxiety that came with the possibility of Jirou murdering him in his sleep dissipated once he finally purchased the gift.

“Why did your present take so much longer?” Bakugo teased.

Todoroki shrugged. “I’m not sure. They usually say it’s harder to shop for girls, right?”

Todoroki clearly did not understand the jab.

Bakugo cleared his throat. “Right. Anyways, are you ready to go? I have to go buy a present for my mom, but you can leave. I won’t keep you hostage.”

“Oh, alright. Goodbye.” Todoroki nodded once, turned on his heel, and walked away.

Bakugo watched him walk away before sighing to himself. Now came was the hard part. What would Todoroki Shoto want for a Christmas present?

Todoroki walked towards the exit, peeking over his shoulder every couple of minutes to see if the blonde boy had left. Once Bakugo had walked away from the gift store, Todoroki turned around and weaved his way back through the crowd.

While Bakugo was scrutinizing the glass figures, Todoroki saw a small potted cactus he thought the blonde would really like. It didn’t require too much attention and was very prickly; Bakugo was one of these two things. It was only a small present, and despite the number of times that he tried to deny it, Bakugo was indeed Todoroki’s friend.

He double-checked his surroundings to make sure Bakugo had truly left before walking into the store.

“Back again, honey?” The old woman who helped check out Bakugo was still sitting at the counter.

“Yes, I am buying a present for my friend.”

She smiled and went back to looking at her magazine.

Todoroki turned around to find the succulent, which was actually a Christmas cactus. How fitting. He picked it up and inspected it similarly to how Bakugo inspected Momo’s present. Looking at it, it didn’t strike him in the same way as it did earlier. Bakugo wouldn’t hate it, but he wouldn't love it either. After a few months, he would just think it was a nuisance and kill it.

He set it back down and looked around the store again. Now that he didn’t have to be secretive about what he was doing, it was much easier to clearly check out all the products. Still, nothing was standing out to him as a great gift, so he waved goodbye to the nice lady and went on his way in search of the perfect present for Bakugo Katsuki.

Bakugo had no clue where to even start.

Clothes were always the go-to present, so he might as well start there. Maybe some great idea would strike him from above while he wandered aimlessly.

He ended up in a punk-goth-emo type section. “How the fuck did I…”

Skulls and chains in a sea of black surrounded him as he tried to find an escape. This must be where his mother bought his clothes as a child.

He found the small hallway that he must have walked through to get to this terrifyingly bleak place. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes to find a half-red half-white haired boy standing about thirty feet away.

I thought he was the only one who looked like that. Unless… Todoroki Shoto has fanboys? It wasn’t completely out of the question. A lot of 1-A students garnered fans ever since the Sports Festival.

The possible fanboy turned his head.

Oh shit, never mind that was literally Todoroki.

Bakugo didn’t want to turn around and get lost in the endless maze of black again, but he couldn’t stay in this brightly lit hallway.

Instead, he darted down the hallway as fast as humanly possible and dove behind a clothing rack. It rattled softly, but Todoroki didn’t notice. Bakugo released a sigh. He clearly wasn’t going to find anything worthwhile here, so he made it his main priority to get the hell out of here before he was spotted.

Every few seconds, he bolted from rack to rack, making sure that Mr. Candy Cane never saw him. Todoroki never seemed to notice as he went around the store picking out clothes and feeling different materials.

God bless Bakugo’s amazing espionage skills, or he would’ve had a large problem on his hands if he had to explain why he was shopping for his mother in the goth section.

Todoroki was still having no luck.

Nothing caught his eye in the ginormous clothing store. A few times, a metal rack would shake and Todoroki would go check the mysterious noise out. The first time it happened, he considered it a sign from the gift-giving gods that purposely lured him over. That was until he discovered it was filled with tasteless vests and button-ups that no one should ever wear, not even as a form of punishment.

He knew Bakugo would not have the patience for any puzzles. He also doubted Bakugo would appreciate the simplicity of children’s toys, so he was out of ideas.

Todorki flitted around the entire mall, going from store to store as he combed through the thousands of gifts. The last few stores were a shoe store, a bookstore, and a jewelry store.

If nothing else worked, Todoroki would just buy him a book. He was pretty sure Bakugo liked reading, and lots of books existed, which meant his odds of getting a book that his friend hadn’t read before were pretty good.

He left that as his last resort and instead entered the jewelry store. Thousands of sparkling crystals blinded him and he almost walked right out. But no, he would press on until he found the perfect gift.

He knew Bakugo wouldn’t like anything too sparkly. His brazen personality was more than enough to gather people’s attention.

Eventually, Todoroki found himself in a section filled with bracelets and rings that weren’t outfitted with diamonds. They were mostly leather or solid metal.

He sifted through the suggestions, spinning the little carousels around when an orange bead caught his eye. He pulled it off the hook. It was a simple bracelet with metallic black and orange beads. The colors reminded Todoroki of Bakugo’s hero costume.

He slipped it on his own wrist and found that it was slightly elastic. It wouldn’t fall off, but it wouldn’t get stuck, meaning it would be perfect to wear during class or meals or combat training. Todoroki wholeheartedly believed Bakugo would appreciate the versatility.

He took it off and went over to the nearest register. There was one person in front of him, so he just got in line and looked at his phone.

Despite Todoroki sending no responses to Midoriya, he still texted him with screenshots of his game. There were over a hundred messages now. He must have been very excited.

The man working at the counter called “next,” so Todoroki put his phone back in his pocket, making a mental note to look at them later.

He gave the bracelet to the man, and the man scanned it and placed it in a fancy silver box lined with black velvet. He grabbed a small plastic bag and slipped the box in, along with a receipt. He wished Todoroki a nice day and the boy replied with a small “thank you” before grabbing the bag and walking out of the store.

He peered down at the box. It was the first present he had ever bought by himself, and he was strangely proud.

He was almost at the exit when he looked up to find Bakugo in front of him with a startled look on his face.

Bakugo spoke first. “I thought you left.” He eyed the taller boy with curiosity.

Todoroki’s eyes widened once he realized the situation. Bakugo couldn’t know he bought him a surprise gift. It wouldn't be a surprise then.

“Oh, um well, I planned to. But then I, uh, I saw this store, and I was like my cat would really like this…” he trailed off.

“Your cat?”

“Y-yeah, you know. My cat, uh, he likes to, to wear fancy jewelry sometimes. You know, like, to dress up for fun.”

Rich people were so fucking weird. “What are you saying-”

Todoroki scratched his head and nervously laughed. “Okay, bye!” He flew out of the store clutching the small bag.

There was no way he was buying something for his cat.

No fucking way.

He must have been buying something for his mother or his sister. He couldn’t understand why Todoroki would be so flustered over something like that but to each their own.

He looked around the store. It was his last-ditch effort to find something that suited Todoroki. His classmate had quite the eye for stupid, useless things, and jewelry seemed to fit the description well enough.

A young woman came up to him. “Hello, sir, do you need help finding something?”

Not another saleswoman, please no. He couldn’t take any more. At least this one had a normal voice and a non-murderous look in her eye.

The humidity in the building had messed up his hair and all their hustling had made him start to sweat. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, just itching to blow something up. He must have looked terribly disheveled because the woman asked if he was okay.

He wanted to snap at her until he remembered that a place like this demanded civility. Very unfortunate. Instead, he tried answering her in the most docile way possible. Maybe she would actually be of some use. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m just having difficulty in finding a present.”

“Understandable! I can help you if you would like?” The saleswoman's happy, airy tone returned once he assured her that he was okay.

“Oh, actually yes. Yes please, thank you. Do you have anything a teenage boy would like? Something cool, but still elegant in a way?”

“Oh, do you have a boyfriend you are shopping for?” she inquired, leading him to a specific area of the store.

“What? No!” he snapped.

A blush may or may not have graced his cheeks when he thought about Todoroki opening his present.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that. We have a collection over here though if you would be interested.” She could tell he was lying, either to her or himself. No straight, teenage male would be found dead in a jewelry store buying a present for his male friend. The red cheeks were also a dead giveaway.

“Yes, sorry. It’s just been a tiring day.” Bakugo didn’t mean to bark at the lady who was just trying to help him; it was just second nature at this point.

“I’m sure it has. Gift shopping can be hard, but that’s why I’m here.”

They made small talk while she showed off many different pieces. Various features and product advantages flew over his head as he tried to picture each bracelet on Todoroki’s wrist. He eventually settled on a leather cuff with a large metal adornment.

“If you want to fill that metal box with an engravement, that’s included if you buy it.”

Todoroki would definitely like this. His gut told him so, and it was never wrong.

“Okay, cool. I’ll get it engraved.”

They walked over to the engraving station in the corner of the shop. The woman unclasped the bracelet, placing the cuff flat on the table, and turned towards Bakugo. “What would you like it to say?”

“Oh, can I have a second?”

The woman nodded and smiled, but her eyes anxiously traveled from customer to customer.

The holiday season was always a great time for her paycheck, but she couldn’t really keep up with commissions if she was stuck helping the same customer. Children like him usually bought the first thing they saw, which is why she started with the most expensive items first. The fact that he took so long only further convinced her that he was shopping for a special someone.

Bakugo crossed his arms. He can’t fuck it up now. He’s spent hours in this dreadful building to find the perfect gift. Now it was in his grasp, and he could make it even more perfect if he thought of the right thing to write on it.

“You can always engrave it later, but I would recommend something like-”

“I got it! Put Katsuki on it in Kanji.”

The lady smiled at the blonde, ready for this exchange to be over so she could go help someone else. “Is that his name?”

“No, it’s mine.”

The woman gave him a strange look. “Sir, do you really-”

“You heard me, lady,” he growled. He was about to explode, literally and metaphorically. It had been hours since he last felt something explode beneath him, and he just wanted to feel the satisfying recoil when he used his quirk.

She scowled at him but did what he said. At the end of the day, he was just another customer that would fill her pockets.

She quickly rang him up and placed it in a box. Bakugo was slightly shocked at the price, but he couldn’t back out now. Also, it was engraved so there was no returning it. Also, he was very confident that Todoroki would really like it.

Bakugo walked out of the store after muttering thanks. His energy and wallet were exhausted and he was ready to go home.

He headed towards the exit when another store caught his eye.

One more stop couldn’t hurt.

Everyone was gathered in the common room on the first floor of their dorm building. The Christmas tree’s lights illuminated the room and all of the students were curled up near the fireplace. They had enjoyed a large dinner beforehand, munching on cookies and sipping on milk afterward.

Todoroki and Bakugo ended up sitting next to each other on the floor as they eagerly waited for Kirishima and Momo to open their presents.

Kirishima’s name was called next, and he searched for his package. Todoroki had wrapped it with red wrapping paper covered in cartoon ornaments and tied a large gold bow on top.

Kirishima grabbed the box and crawled back to his seat next to Denki. He shook it loudly and held his ear up to it. Denki rolled his eyes and told him just to open it. Kirishima elbowed the blonde before tearing open the paper. He lifted the lid to find the shoes Todoroki had customized for him.

“Holy shit! These are the coolest things I’ve ever seen!” He pulled them out of the tissue they were nestled in and held them up for the rest of the class to see. Everyone oohed and ahhed, stunned to see the fantastic gift.

“Your gift giver must have been Momo or Todoroki!” Mina noted as she wrote that down on her notes. She was trying to figure out who everyone’s Secret Santa was with Uraraka’s help.

“It doesn’t matter who it was, they’re so awesome. Thank you!” He grinned his little shark smile and stuffed them back into the box.

Todoroki side-eyed Bakugo and discreetly high fived him.

A few more people opened presents until Momo’s turn came around. Mina got hot pink roller skates, Shouji got a six-armed knit sweater, and Sato got a few new kitchen knives.

Momo grabbed her box, a smallish one wrapped in pink wrapping paper with baby pink stripes on it. Thankfully, she did not shake it like Kirishima or Bakugo would have to riot.

She gently tore the wrapping paper off and opened the brown box. The brown paper crinkled as she pulled the wrapped figurines out. Untying the strings, the paper opened to reveal three crystal animals that sparkled in the multicolored light.

“Thank you, whoever! They are very pretty,” she smiled at the whole room. Jirou curled into her girlfriend’s side, flipping the figurines over in her hand to look at them.

Uraraka muttered to Mina, “I have no clue…” Mina reluctantly placed a question mark next to Momo’s name.

Bakugo smirked to himself. There was no way in hell he would let himself be discovered.

The rest of the class opened their presents, and overall, everyone was very happy. People munched on desserts, drank hot cocoa, and talked and laughed with each other. Per Kirishima’s request, Bakugo had even power napped before the event so he wouldn’t have to leave early.

By the time midnight rolled around, almost everyone was gone. Almost everyone, meaning everyone except Todoroki and Bakugo.

Bakugo had brought the bracelet with him and hid it in his sweatshirt the entire night. No opportunity had presented itself, but then again, no one would just give you an opportunity. You just had to steal it for yourself.

Bakugo watched Todoroki’s figure as he fluffed all the pillows and folded the blankets.

The blonde almost spoke several times but hesitated each time. No, he was not chickening out. It just wasn’t the right time.

“Um, Bakugo,” Todoroki started. “I got you a present. I saw it and thought of you.”

Bakugo turned around to find a box that looked strikingly similar to the one in his pocket. He untied the ribbon and opened the lid. A bracelet with orange and black beads.

“It reminded me of your hero costume. The black and orange,” Todoroki admitted, abashed.

Bakugo slipped it on. It was very nice, stretchy, and easy to take on and off. He looked up at his classmate.

Todoroki’s heterochromatic eyes stared into his eyes, trying to gauge the blonde boy’s reaction.

Fuck, was he always this pretty? Bakugo wondered, his heart possibly skipping a beat.

“Bakugo?” Todoroki cocked his head to the left, white hair falling in his eyes.

Bakugo was suddenly very aware of how close the other boy had gotten.

“Yeah?” he breathed out, distracted by the mint scent that surrounded the two of them.

“Do you like it?” Todoroki shifted closer, inspecting the bracelet and how it looked on the blonde’s wrist. He picked up the smaller boy’s arm and turned it over in his hands, watching the light bounce off the wooden beads.

“Oh, yeah I do. I do,” Bakugo managed to stutter out. The alternating warm and cold touch sent jolts up his arm and through his body.

Todoroki smiled, dropping his arm to look at Bakugo who had a light blush on his cheeks. It was very cute according to Todoroki.

Bakugo had to sympathize with the salesgirl now. It really was a killer smile that he possessed.

Oh right, he almost forgot. He got too swept up in… everything. “I have a gift for you too. For helping me with Momo’s present and stuff.”

He tore his eyes away from the boy to go find the box he hid in his coat earlier. The bow got slightly crushed, so he tried fixing it as best as he could before turning it around to hand it to Todoroki.

He unwrapped the bow and pulled out a leather cuff with some sort of engraving. “Oh, wow, Bakugo, this is really nice.” He turned it over to read the engraving. “Wait, why does it say your name?”

“Kacchan, you did not just give Todoroki a bracelet with your name on it.”

Bakugo’s face went red at the sudden intrusion. “Shut the fuck up, Deku,” he growled. “Why are you even here?”

“Oh, I was trying to find Aizawa to give him this sweater for his cat. Also, I had colored pencils and a coloring book for Eri, but I couldn’t find them. I thought they might have come here but I guess not. I will take my leave now, so have fun you two!” He hopped off the couch and disappeared around the corner.

Todoroki and Bakugo stared at his retreating figure.

Todoroki poked the blonde. “So why is your name on it?”

“So you’ll always remember who gave it to you!”

“Oh.” Todoroki didn’t know how to feel about that. On one hand, it was kind of cute. On the other hand, it really just wasn’t.

Bakugo’s heart fell at the lackluster answer. “If you don’t like it, I can just take it back or something.” He definitely could not take it back.

“No, I love it.” He slipped it on his wrist and admired it.

Todoroki could stare at the bracelet all day and Bakugo could stare at him all day, but there was something else Bakugo wanted to give. “Uh, Todoroki, I also got you something else.”

Todoroki looked up with inquisitive eyes, folding his hands in his lap.

Bakugo stood up and grabbed Todoroki’s present that he had hidden under a pillow all night.

“I remember you said you never had one as a kid, and it seemed like you really wanted it.” He threw the teddy bear into the other boy’s arms while he trudged back over to their spot in the middle of the room near the fire.

Todoroki easily caught it and looked down to find the teddy bear he wanted from Build-A-Bear that day they went shopping together. He hugged it to his chest and found that it was soft. (It really wasn’t.)

Bakugo melted a bit at the sight as he smiled fondly at the boy. He was so innocent sometimes.

“Thank you,” he whispered, looking up at Bakugo.

“You’re welcome,” Bakugo whispered back.

All of a sudden a paper plane hit Bakugo on the side of his head, shattering the sweet atmosphere.

He growled and looked around for the culprit, but no one was there. Dammit. Grabbing the paper in his hand, he angrily snapped it open to find a message written in very familiar handwriting on it.

“Just kiss already <3”

Deku was about to get a fucking mouthful.

"And that is how you fly a paper airplane, Eri!” Midoriya smiled at the little girl.

He watched his friends around the corner, Bakugo growling over the paper airplane and Todoroki trying to read what it said while he held his new stuffed animal to his chest.

They would be just fine. More than fine. They would be happy. And that’s all Midoriya could ever ask for.

#elliewrites #fluff #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #todoroki shoto #bakugo katsuki #todoroki x bakugo #todobaku #tdbk #bnha oneshot

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daxieoclock · 4 years ago

Text

Birds and Flowers: Hunters Highlights

Just closed out another fucking MINDBLOWING session with some scenes I’ve been scheming in the background for literal months. These in-between times are going absolutely unreal and I NEED to share it with you all djfgbjdfg.

I’m including a bit from last session as well, since it’s also really good and helps set the scene.

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) A sizable white boat bobbing in the slight surf. Purple text on the side proclaims it "The Partridge."

The Partridge has an outside deck on the bow with some seats, and an inside room where the wheel is, lined with comfy couches. Before you cast off, Sakio addresses you all. "Hunters. You've done some truly amazing work. This isn't much of a celebration, but I hope you take some time to relax, and enjoy yourselves." She beams at you all. "I'm deeply proud of you for the steps you've taken within both Fractals and your own lives. I hope you can all find some pride in those accomplishments as well."

And the boat rumbles to life, and pushes out into the open ocean.

Blake Leto (Jane 🐈) Blake slides into the cabin and takes a seat on one of the couches, returning to their book.

Lena Tarr (Dave) Lena is gonna sit down on the same couch as Blake, and let out a weary sigh. "What'chu reading?"

Blake Leto (Jane 🐈) “Ah,” they look up, not having noticed her at first.

“Oh, you know me,” they say with a chuckle. “Just another mystery novel…” They shake their head. “Though this particular series feels like it’s going downhill…” they sound a little sad at that, turning the book over in their hands.

Lena Tarr (Dave) She chuckles. "Honestly, I couldn't tell. I don't get those at all." She nods to the book. "Everything's so. Complicated. But in kinda dumb ways."

Blake Leto (Jane 🐈) And they flash their a smile. “Yes, I suppose I can understand that. Although the world can be kind of like that too, can’t it?” And they give a little chuckle.

Lena Tarr (Dave) Lena grins. "Oh, you know it. Like. The thing with those three fucks? Dumb as all shit." She shrugs. "You can't escape it though. You can't just say that it's dumb and make them leave. You gotta." She twirls the cane in her hands. "Do something."

Blake Leto (Jane 🐈) They give her an uncertain look and then turn back to their book, idly flipping the pages in their hands. “Unfortunate as it is, I have to agree. Inaction is rarely the solution to anything. In fact, passivity is probably one of the traits that bothers me the most…” They grin a little as they say that.

Lena Tarr (Dave) "Hm." She keeps twirling her cane. "I don't know if one of those bastards came to you too, or someone else reached out to you, but I guess you should know. The dude I punched came to the campus. Made sure I knew the next time I get in his way it'll be bad." She grins at the floor. "Damned if you do, damned if you don't."

Blake Leto (Jane 🐈) They look back up, a little surprised. “Ah.” And they rest the book in their lap, expression becoming more serious, crossing their arms over their chest. “I see… in that case, we should be even more careful. And we ought to be proactive…” they adjust their glasses. “We don’t want to instigate conflict, but we also can’t let them step on us… you’re right that it’s a tricky situation.” They whip out their phone, typing something. “I’d prefer not to get you alone with him if we can help it. Chances are, if you’re in a group, he’ll back down. And if he doesn’t…” they shrug, their expression serious. “We can take him.”

Lena Tarr (Dave) She throws the cane from one hand to the other. "We shouldn't have to though. Heh." She bends over slightly and puts her weight on the cane. "Not like that changes anything." She thinks for a second. "I'm. Sorry. For making it worse." She snorts. "Probably won't be the last time."

Blake Leto (Jane 🐈) They chuckle a little. “Did you come here with the intention to bum me out…?” They smile, eyes on their feet, looking a little distant. “I’m not the type to happily let other people get stepped on if it makes my own life easier,” and they pause, catching the irony in that with a little smile. “Regardless of what you may have heard about me.” They shrug. “Whatever you may do, you’re a part of this team. And that means we will back up whatever actions you take. If you’ve picked this fight, then we’ll finish it. Simple as that.” And they give you a cheery little smile, one crafted for the cameras, though somehow it feels a little more genuine here, just a bit.

Lena Tarr (Dave) Lena looks at them for a moment, before leaning back on the couch, just a bit more relaxed. "You're really something, Leto. Really something." And she's smiling too.

**********

Sammy Cabra (Nyanko) I don't know boats very well, but Sammy is probably laying down on the deck of the boat somewhere-- not on a chair, like...on the floor-- if you want to go say hewwo--

Ilse Belanger (Ralu) Ilse follows Sammy onto the outer deck, happy to be in the sun and to feel the breeze. They enjoy the sensation for a moment, then approach Sammy. “Mind if I join you?”

Sammy Cabra (Nyanko) Sammy is already flat on the ground, staring straight into the sun. They look at Ilse, "Please do!" they can't hide the excitement in their voice.

Ilse Belanger (Ralu) “Thank you” Ilse smiles widely and sits down, then fishes out of their bag and holds a pair of sunglasses over Sammy’s head. “Not to disturb your view, but I have them spare. Would you like them?”

Sammy Cabra (Nyanko) Sammy is startled by the sudden darkness the sunglasses have caused, but they quickly grab a hold of them. "F-For me? You're giving these to me?" Sammy sits up and scans the boat and sky, holding the shades up in front of them instead of putting them on. "I can really have these? You're giving me magic glasses?" Sammy looks at Ilse to confirm if they're serious or not.

Ilse Belanger (Ralu) Ilse is a bit taken aback by that strong reaction, and they rub the back of their neck before answering. “Not magic, I’m sorry, but yes. You can have them. Only if you want them, of course.”

Sammy Cabra (Nyanko) Sammy pauses for a long time, looking at you through the not-so-magic shades. There's a brief moment when you can see a tear start to roll down Sammy's face, but they quickly turn the other way. "I don't mind if they're not magic...you gave them to me, so I'm going to keep them forever..." Sammy wipes their eyes with their sleeves before turning back to Ilse. "I love them! Thank you!" Sammy gasps like they just had the BEST idea in the world. They grab their bag, that was always next to them and I totally didn't forget that they had this-- and start digging through it. After a bit, they pull out a small, clay, goat figurine. "Here! This will be my magic gift to you, for giving me magic glass!" They placed the goat figurine on your head instead of in your hands. "This is the lucky goat! They're super lucky and if you take them to the park on Wednesdays, the ice cream man will appear!" Sammy looks serious, so you can't tell if they're joking around or not.

Ilse Belanger (Ralu) Ilse stares at Sammy, first wondering if they did something wrong, then actively worried. They lift their hand, unsure what to do, before Sammy starts to speak and they leave the hand simply hanging, eyes following every of Sammy’s movements. Then, a goat on their head. Very carefully and still they reach for it, slowly lower it toward the gaze. “It’s beautiful. Thank you. I will be at the park next Wednesday. Will take it with me.” They look just as serious as Sammy.

**********

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) sakio's up on the outer deck, watching the waves

she's got a wide-brimmed yellow hat on

Camellia Pavel (Rhela) Camellia has been mostly quiet, bundled up and clearly not a fan of the cold. They sluggishly get up and trot over to sit by Sakio. "You seem awfully sunny despite being out in this freezing wet crap," they say good naturedly, if a bit grumpy.

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) She just shrugs, one hand on her hat, sending a smile at you. "I'm with good company," she says, raising her voice a little to be heard over the waves, but maintaining a soft tone. "Besides that, the semester's over. No more grading until March." She laughs. "Plenty more time to prioritize you all, before Spring semester begins. I don't have to feel guilty about giving you special treatment."

Camellia Pavel (Rhela) "I guess we HAVE kinda gotten the 'teacher's pet' status, for lack of better words. Maybe even exceeded," they smirked.

"I certainly suppose a break from your main job is welcome."

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) "Hm," Sakio says, and you can barely hear her. She takes a moment to just watch the waves. "Teaching is my passion. I wouldn't have taken the job if it hadn't been. Being a dean though...I can't say it's brought me a surplus of joy. It's a dirty job, I suppose, but someone has to do it. Might as well be me." She brushes a strand of hair behind one ear. "How are you, by the way?"

Camellia Pavel (Rhela) They bark a soft laugh. "True, true." A sudden gust of chilly wind rushed across the boat, making Camellia momentarily hunker further into their coat. "Ah, well enough. With some recent financial assets I've lived a bit more comfortably these past weeks. And I've been making more crafts as of late. It's eased my mind quite a deal."

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) "That's good," she says, nodding slightly. "Very good." A deep breath in, and out. "I'm a little curious, if you don't mind me asking. I've been thinking back to when we first met, and I can't seem to wrap my head around..." Sakio purses her lips. "On second thought, I don't believe I need to know. Perhaps it would simply be best for me to trust you, all of you, and leave well enough alone."

Camellia Pavel (Rhela) Camellia's eyes narrow momentarily, unsure and curious where Sakio's train of thought was heading. They huff a short chuckle as their gaze softens and diverts to the water below. "Well... I'll trust your trust."

**********

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) You all take a nice long boat ride, slowing a few times to admire distant sea lions on the shore or when Valerie thinks she spots a whale (she says it three separate times and at no point do you ever see a whale). After a few long hours, when the sun is starting to get a little lower in the sky, the Partridge is going to pull back into the Long View dock.

Lena Tarr (Dave) lena absolutely fell asleep

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) lena and camellia nap buddies? djhfbgjh

Lena Tarr (Dave) god knows we are sleeping!!!

in a warm little pile

Sammy Cabra (Nyanko) Sammy is also napping, but you can't tell because they're wearing their new cool shades in the same "I am looking directly at the sun" position--

*****

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) Camellia. It's dark. The lights that normally light the campus are all off. And you're running after someone. They're faster than you, which shouldn't be right, because you and them should always be at the same pace, you've always been in lock step but now they're ten paces ahead of you. It's like a game, except that you can't afford to lose, and they won't slow down. Frey won't wait for you.

Camellia Pavel (Rhela) They're panting, air entering their lungs like cold briars constricting in their chest as fire sears in their legs. Old shoes frantically hit the pavement and the noise echoes among the darkened campus as they run and run, but can't seem to catch up. "Frey, stop -- just stop! Please slow down, I can't reach you!"

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) And they turn midstep, and laugh. "Come on flower child," they say, and their voice is familiar, and yet not quite the way it should be. Like two tones woven together. "You know you're too high up by now. You're too close." And they hop over a small ledge.

When you follow, when you hop over that ledge too, your feet catch and you stumble and the campus is gone. And so is Frey. And you can see the world, from up here. Up on the edge of some shiny purple surface, staring down at the curvature of a violet Earth, neuron stars shifting across its infinite expanse.

"Too close," Frey's voice echoes. "Too close. Too close."

Camellia Pavel (Rhela) Camellia's breath comes in short panicked bursts as their head jerks back and forth, surveying their surroundings. Their face is disgusting, gummy with sweat, tears, and flecks of drool that glisten in the low purple glow. "I--," they gasp out. "What...?"

"I don't understand,"

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) You're standing on the edge of an enormous flower, on one of the petals, its stem stretching down and down and down until it bleeds into the world, bursts through its skin and spreads roots. Or, maybe it's the other way around.

Too close.

And a petal snaps off. Not the one you're on, but it drifts down, falling and falling.

Too far.

A petal snaps off.

Too close.

A petal snaps off.

Too far.

A petal snaps off.

Too close.

And you snap off. And plummet towards the world at a thousand miles an hour, like a shooting star.

And then you wake up. It's morning. You're covered in sweat, back in your apartment.

Camellia Pavel (Rhela) Camellia chokes out a gasp as they awaken, panting as they stared glass-eyed at the ceiling. "A nightmare...? they wonder. They breathe shakily and turn on their side, curling in on themself. "Or something more? I don't... I don't know anymore..." Sheets are pulled up over their head as they hide away from the lingering threads of the dream, as if still a child hiding away from the monsters they imagined dancing in the shadows of their closet.

**********

Ilse Belanger (Ralu) If possible, Ilse would like to go to the park in the hope of getting some ice cream. I was also thinking of doing a Twitch scene, but I don’t know if they would invite him along

Blake Leto (Jane 🐈) Ilse just texts twitch like “hey check this shit out I’ve got a magic goat”

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) He's got his hood up, and he looks a little bit like a zombie, kinda dazed, but he seems happy enough to join.

"So, uh," he mumbles, "park. There's an ice cream place downtown, you know. I mean, it kinda sucks, but it's there." The ice cream shop in question has like...exclusively artistically ice creams, nonsense hippie flavors that all taste 90% the same.

Ilse Belanger (Ralu) Ilse nods, eyes scanning the surrounding. “It...definitely is, yeah. But we might be lucky and have an ice man arriving here today? Or any ice person?” They twist the little goat in their hands. “I’m sorry if it was all for nothing in the end. If you’ll allow me then, I’ll invite you for a cup at the other place” Suddenly their eyes light up. “Care for a bet?”

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) Twitch raises an eyebrow. "Um, I'm not really...a betting person?" He shrugs. "I guess...uh, sure. Bet on whether ice cream shows up?"

Ilse Belanger (Ralu) “Bet on whether ice cream shows up!” They grin. “Wrong guess pays for the sweets?”

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) "Hm." Twitch takes a look around the empty park, and then down at the goat. "Okay. Uh. Yeah, sure. You're on." No sooner has he said that than you hear a distant jingle that causes Twitch to freeze in place, and you both see an elderly man behind a pushcart stroll into the park. "That...usually doesn't fuck me over that quickly." He gives a skewed little smile. "I'm buying?"

Ilse Belanger (Ralu) Ilse shakes their head in awe when they see the pushcart. “Honestly, I was pretty sure I would be the one paying. So...only if you want to.” They return the smile, a bit shy, then straighten up. “I bet this one’s going to be better than what they have downtown.”

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) "Probably." His smile is a little more honest now. "I think, uh, I'm getting hungry! So let's go!" And he rushes ahead to the cart.

Ilse Belanger (Ralu) Ilse smiles, pets the goat slightly before putting it in the pocket of their pants and rushing after Twitch.

**********

Ilse Belanger (Ralu) What place could be used for proficiency/agility skill points? I’m sorry I’m forgetting all the details

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) proficiency isssss Camellia's favored back alley, i believe

Ilse Belanger (Ralu) Ah, yeah! Thank you! Can I go there and also look for a trinket to possibly gift Puck?

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) hmm

okay i will say "yes and", absolutely djfbgjh but i will let u know that buttering up Puck is only gonna get you so far, because im gating Fool requirements behind plot beats djfbgjh

you don't find much of anything, but then you hear a calm voice over your shoulder. "Yo, you're uhhh, the fuckin, sporty lady and little goat buddy's friend, right?" And Theo crouches down next to you. "Whatcha looking for? Didja drop something?" He immediately begins searching as well.

Ilse Belanger (Ralu) Gghgggh!!!

Lena Tarr (Dave) !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Blake Leto (Jane 🐈) The real treasure was Theo all along

Ilse Belanger (Ralu) “Oh” Ilse’s first instinct is to move a step back or to the side and give Theo space, but then they realize what he’s doing. “Thank you, yeah, I think I am...didn’t drop anything, was just looking. Of I could find something nice or interesting. Something one could give to a friend who likes trinkets and stuff?” They scratch their neck and look up for a moment. “Nothing to worry about, but thank you”

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) "Ohhh," Theo says. And he plops back, reclining on the ground. "Totally getcha. Like, last year I tried to get Bee a seashell, but Long View is like...not a good place for shells. Or water. Or surfing." He lets out a long, melancholy sigh. Then he perks up. "Oh! Like, instead of the shell, I made her some brownies, so maybe..." Theo reaches into his bag and then smacks a plastic-wrapped cookie into your hand. "Here you go, dude. Snack for your pal."

Ilse Belanger (Ralu) Ilse’s eyes wides, and once they realize the cookie is already in their hand, there’s no giving back, the look into Theo’s face, still a bit flabbergasted. “That’s not necessary, but...thank you. Cookies are always a great idea” They smile at him. “Thank you”

**********

Lena Tarr (Dave) ok ok ok. i am thinking.

that i wanna bother someone. so im wondering what masumis doing fdgdfgdf

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) heck yeah djfgbjh

Masumi is still on campus during break. Plus since she's your RA, you have her number.

Lena Tarr (Dave) Lena is gonna camp out in the common area until she sees her fgdfgdf

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) She walks out of her room with a towel around her head, stares at you, walks back into her room and five minutes later comes back out with dry hair and a glare that could cut through concrete. "What?" she says.

Lena Tarr (Dave) She stretches casually, like she wasn't waiting for Masumi, specifically, to show up. "Nothing much. What's up?"

Blake Leto (Jane 🐈) Important question: did Masumi change into her full fuckin suit during that time or is she wearing somethin more casual Bc if she took the time to get the whole suit on that’s so powerful

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) oh djfgbjhdgf she's wearing like...a black skirt and a white button up i think. still formal, but compared to her normal outfit it's very relaxed.

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) Masumi just sort of squints at you, tilting her head slightly. "I'm on break," she says, bluntly. "What do you think?"

Lena Tarr (Dave) Lena sighs. "Fair enough." She leans back, brows furrowing. "I'll be fast. You know Sakio pretty well, right?"

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) "As well as the President of the Student Council can and should know one of her teachers who is also the dean of Humanities," Masumi replies immediately. "I've worked with her enough to know her type. That's all you need to know."

Lena Tarr (Dave) She tilts her head to the side. "And what's that type like?"

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) Masumi sighs, adjusts her hair. "Saint Sakio," she says, her tone quiet and bitter. "The self appointed virtuous paragon, decrier of all hypocrisies but her own, leaping at her own sword just for the chance it might help someone else." She rolls her eyes. "She's an idiot, and she's stubborn, and she thinks she's right."

Lena Tarr (Dave) Lena nods, thinks for a bit. "Do you think that." She clicks her tongue. "Has her stubbornness ever done. More harm than good? In your opinion?"

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) "Unquestionably," she says. "She's a teacher, through and through. More a propensity for talking than listening." A clear sore spot, and Masumi seems to catch herself, her tone evening out. "But that's not to say that she's technically incorrect, all the time. She's talented and experienced and intelligent, and she knows that. Which makes the task of challenging her on those blind spots all the more daunting."

Lena Tarr (Dave) "Fuck if you aren't right." She drags a hand across her face. "Thanks." She leans her head back, staring at the ceiling. "I really. Hate teachers. And directors."

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) "Hm." Masumi brushes a strand of hair behind one ear in almost the same way as you've seen Sakio do, often enough. "I suppose we have that in common." And with that, she heads off.

**********

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) There's a box in your closet. And I think there's been a few days where the thought of opening it has crossed your mind, you've maybe wanted to, but so far every time you have decided to leave it closed.

Today is one of the days when you think about that box.

Sammy Cabra (Nyanko) Sammy opens up their closet on the left side. They've hesitated for long enough. "Okay...Okay..." They slowly drag the box out from the closet, the weight on top stays put. They take a deep breath in. and a deep breath out. "I can't keep hiding from you... I need to know..." They pick up the weight with ease, as if picking up a small rock, and place it back down on the floor. "You can do this..." They close their eyes and...take off the lid.

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) It smells like dust. You can't see anything with your eyes closed. Churro is probably butting his head against your arm and making little mrow noises.

Sammy Cabra (Nyanko) Sammy opens their eyes. Still scared of what awaits them inside. They've thought about this moment forever, what kind of awful message awaits them inside? Maybe it's a note that says "loser" or something...Sammy takes a look inside.

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) The three items on the very top of the small pile are a flower made out of popsicle sticks that you gave to her, a bubble blower that you used to play together with, and a piece of crumpled paper. Upon closer inspection, it's a very messy drawing of your Fractals outfit, with smudged text pointing to different sections of the costume. "Goat tail? Do goats have tails?" and "Very very green" and "Make sure there's room for their horns!" At the very top of the page, it says: "Poncho for Sammy." Underneath those is a photo album.

Sammy Cabra (Nyanko) Sammy carefully and slowly takes out every item one by one. They can't help but feel saddened by the flower on top. The first gift they ever gave her. Why would she leave that? Then the bubble blower and then the paper of their poncho. "I was wondering where you put these...I tried to find them the day I went looking for you but..." They pick up the photo album. They're silent for a long time before opening it up. Pictures of Sammy...Pictures of Churro...Pictures of... "Tango..." Sammy flips through all the pages.

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) There's so many photos there that you recognize. Of you, of her, of the both of you. The farther you go, there's less of you, less of her. More nature, and abstraction, and strangers. And more empty spaces, photos absent from where they should be. Until finally, on the very last page, there's just a single photo - one you don't recognize. A silhouette of a young woman with long hair, blowing a dandelion across a dark sky. There's text underneath: "Daisy" and a little heart drawing.

And underneath the photo album, at the bottom of the box, is a flyer from a big music concert that happened in your sophomore year of high school, with a smudged phone number you can't read and a lipstick mark in the bottom corner.

And beneath that is a very carefully, politely folded piece of paper. "For Sammy" it says.

Sammy Cabra (Nyanko) Sammy is already fighting back tears from the drastic change the album had taken without them. They're less confused and more sad that they barely opened it up now. "Who...?" Sammy looks at the picture of the girl before picking up the little piece of paper. "Ah man...you shouldn't have..." They are very much crying at this point. They unfold the paper, joking, "What wonderful masterpiece have you granted me as a last goodbye?"

Everyone Else (DaxieVane) sammy,

if you are reading this, then i am somewhere very far away now. i dont know how far, and i dont know where i'll end up. im sorry. i don't want to leave, but i know i might have to. you know i'm bad at keeping secrets, and i've been keeping one for a long time. even from you. i'm so sorry, but if i'm gone, then i can't ever come back.

i know it will hurt you, and it breaks my heart. you are my best and most wonderful friend, and i will miss you forever and always. i will miss you more than the sun misses the moon. more than the flower misses the bird. you made me want to love myself, because you loved me.

i know i must have hurt you by leaving. i don't ask you to forgive me, not for that. not for breaking my promise. but if you want me again, even as i can't return, i give you permission: come and find me.

your friend, always,

tangerine

Sammy Cabra (Nyanko) Every word feels like a punch to the heart. I'm sorry? I'll miss you? Sammy wipes their tears with their sleeve. "What...What? What is this...?" And then the last line, "Come find you..." It takes a minute for that to process, but when it does, Sammy bolts up straight. "COME FIND YOU!?" It feels like they've been given the key to the universe. That means they're definitely alive and definitely want to see them again...right? This isn't the loser message they were expecting at all, it's so much worse! "W-Where???" Then Sammy turns back to the photo album. "Daisy...girl Daisy....Daisy..." Sammy repeats this, making sure to engrave it into their mind. "I will! I'll do it! I'll find you!" Sammy picks up Churro, "We'll do it!!" And with that, they spend the rest of their night trying to piece everything together...although they're still a little lost.

**********

Sammy 🐐 Excuse me! Everyone! This is kind of an emergency and I'm sorry if this seems really random, but has anyone seen a girl named Daisy? And would anyone like to help me find a girl named Daisy... Or just a Daisy, it might be a flower, I'm not sure!!!!

Blake ✨ Are you alright? What kind of emergency are we talking about? I could certainly ask my contacts to look into this girl if you have a full name or any other details, but you’re saying it may also just… refer to the flower?

Sammy 🐐 Uhm! This is like...life or death to me!

Well maybe not that extreme, but... it's really really super important to me! She has long hair and uhm...she might be into music? I have a paper with some stuff on it I can show you the next time I see you. D:

And her name might be Daisy? that's all I can think of, I'm sorry...

Blake ✨ I… see. So to summarize, you’re searching for this girl, with only an idea of her first name, or what may be a nickname, and a vague understanding of who she is. Is there some connection to someone else? Do you have a photo?

I’d be more than happy to help you solve this little mystery of course, but first and foremost we’ll need intel.

Sammy 🐐 She...does have a connection but that.... doesn't exist right now. Uhm...I do have a photo! So does that mean you'll help me? :)

I'll bring everything to you first thing! thank you so much, Blakey! 🌟

#hunters highlights #the hunters #blake leto #ilse belanger #lena tarr #camellia pavel #sammy cabra #erin sakio #masumi saito #theo

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afoxysunny · 4 years ago

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I've been thinking of so much more for my Lazybug AU but stress at work and my contused hand made it impossible to write anything down or try to draw any more

So, to give you at least a little content you didn't ask for while my hand only hurts a little:

I present to you

The different fighting styles of each Miraculous Holder

Lil explanation: though it's never directly stated in Miraculous Ladybug canon i see it ad heavily implied that, when a Kwami powers up a human, they somewhat fuse. Not like the fusion Ha dance. But a human will display not only physical but character traits from the Kwami of their Miraculous. They're still clearly the same person! Just with a few tweaks to their priorities most of the time. So yes, pointing this out so clearly brings this close to theory or headcanon territory but shhh it's my au, i make the rules

Trixie as Lucky Bug

Lucky Bug has a strong instinct to fight, there are only very few things that could stop her from heading into battle.

Trixie is always set for confrontation and Tikki has the unwavering urge to always do whatever is possible to help. The combination of these two working together as one gives Lucky Bug her strength to take on everything that stands in her way.

When in battle She will make sure to keep her opponents attention fully on herself. She holds the strong belief that while she bears the brunt of attacks she can make sure nobody else gets hurt and that's how she fights. Thanks to the weapon her Miraculous grants her she can exceed in close combat as well as having quite ranged attacks. The lather she will mostly use to pull someone's attention away from others if necessary. Closer ranged combat is definitely her preference though. Here she can use her magical yo-yo like a morningstar and really hammer down in fight. A yo-yo with endlessly extendable cord is incredibly versatile and Lucky Bug is smart enough to always find new ways to mobilize this weapon but good old brute force shouldn't be underrated.

Stephanie as Pitch Serval

Pitch Serval always has an urge to move and that definitely includes battle. Once she gets going there is nothing that'll get her standing still again.

Stephanie will literally jump at any opportunity to start moving and help others, Plagg has deep confidence in his abilities and will let everyone know. In combination that makes Pitch Serval a little bit of a show off. While well able to quietly observe a situation, once she gets into action she will not stop until the job is done.

Watching Pitch Serval fight looks more like watching a professional dancer who just so happens to beat people up while performing. The extendable pole she got as a weapon seems almost to become part of her body. In fluid motions she is capable of a variety of attacks that are both unpredictable without the music only she must hear and so natural that it becomes mesmerizing to watch. Whether she actually fights with the pole for proper hits or uses it to propel herself around, it will be effective and beautiful.

Sportacus as Álfurildi

Álfurildi is not a fan of fighting in a confrontational sense, however, practiced as a sport he finds great enjoyment in it. To him the only reason to actually fight is to protect others.

Sportacus was already a locally famous hero before receiving a Miraculous and brings all the best qualities this encompasses to the table. Nooroo however is a hurt soul, as a surviver of horrible abuse by a past master it took him a long time to extend enough trust to willingly give his powers to someone else again. The combination of these two makes Álfurildi appear a lot more calm or even reserved compared to the Sportacus we all know and love. It makes him worry more and more careful but he's still very energetic, confident and capable in basically anything he tries.

This of cause reflects in his style of battle. Until he's made sure his opponent cannot be swayed without it he won't go in for an attack so most of his battles he spends dodging his opponents attacks while making sure to stay close enough to keep tge encounter from breaking off. He encompasses the phrase "float like a butterfly, sting like a bee" as watching him avoid the incoming attacks looks almost supernatural at times, like gravity just doesn't apply to him the same way it does to others. His in depth mastery of most sports in existence surely help with that. Once he switches lanes to actually attacking himself he will use the cane that is his assigned weapon almost exclusively like a bat or racket or other similar sport equipment. You surely can image the punch that packs.

Robbie as Bullock

Bullock is not one to start a fight but he sure is great at ending them, by winning obviously.

Robbie has efficiency, wit and persistence on his side. Stompp, caring and deterninted, speaks his mind without hesitation. These two together give Bullock a reserved and stubborn appearance but when fending for what is right those are strong attributes to have.

Bullock operates best when following a plan so he will mostly be seen as a detached observer which can be accurately described as the calm before the storm. The phrase "mess with the bull, you get the horns" might as well have been coined just to describe him. Once he starts fighting he is quite literally going to bulldoze his opponent. With the ease from a Kwami's powers elaborate movements require no effort anymore do the usually so lazy man can now go all out, but old habits die hard so he aims to be done fighting as quickly as possible. This results in his attacks coming in rapid fire blasts of assaults. Using his armored fists and legs for precise hits, the chain of his tail like a whip and even his horns make him an overwhelming opponent in close combat. At distance, any distance, his miraculous granted weapon, his darts, never miss a target he locked on to and can only be removed by him so no fight will stay at distance for long.

Pixel as Spectra

Spectra needs a good overview of the ongoing battle to unleash the modt effective Amok but that surely doesn't stop him from getting physically involved once the chance arises.

Pixel follows his strong intuition and always has a quick and effective solution to help others out, Duusu is straight forward about everything and easily get enthusiastic. With this passionate combination Spectra often jumps into battle with his friends despite that not being the most logical step. His powers and costume lend themselves a lot easier to defensive fighting, more blocking, enduring, studying and only then striking. Thanks to his extensive theoretical knowledge from video games he knows an expansive array of moves only someone fighting with a fan as their weapon can use so once he gets his chance to actually fight he is far more effective than he would expect from himself.

Jives as Grinder Turtle

Grinder Turtle is really not much of a fighter. But there will never be anything in his way when he has someone to protect.

Jives is a very calm guy, the human embodiment of the gentle giant trope. Wayzz has persistence, patience and a deep respect for everybody. This combination makes Grinder Turtle incredibly passive in battle. He will use his shield only to push people away, which works great because as someone who is much taller than almost everyone he always has the high ground; but for the most part he finds his spot in the back of the team to set up his Shell-ter for them and be content holding up a safe space for everyone.

This style of fighting unfortunately takes a lot of energy out of him, leading to him quickly losing the turtle miraculous to Stingy.

Jives as High Duke

High Duke finds his flow in fighting. Here he can let lose and push himself to his limits.

Again, Jives is calm and unshakable, always too passive to not get along eith everybody. Now, Xuppu playful and mischievous, holding enjoyment to high value. Their combination makes High Duke a force to be reckoned with. They fuse in perfect addition to each other, making him a well confident, experimental fighter who does exactly what feels right in the moment. His wish to protect everyone around him, now fueled with confidence from a new perspective, allows him to move swiftly during battles like he never did anything else.

Thanks to the flexibility this transformation gifts him with he doesn't just stand back and wait anymore, he jumps head first into the fight. His favorite ways of attack is to duck down all the way to the ground and use his weapon, his staff, or the rope he has as a tail to trip his opponents, and to use the dtaff as leverage to jumo high in the air and strike from up above with great force.

Stingy as Vault

Vault is a presence that demands attention, with powerful attacks to back it up he is a heavy hitter even though he isn't so prone to charge to front line.

Stingy's determination and confidence elevate his sharp focus even more while Wayzz is anchored, calm and has a great sense of duty. The combination they create gives Vault a presence of security everyone can feel. He is strong and unwavering in what he does and knows it full well.

There is a weight in his stance like nothing can make him falter, even when not creating a Shell-ter around himself he is undeniable at the center of something powerful. With this mass of confidence he doesn't just hold on to his shield to push intruders back but it also becomes a projectile weapon to knock opponents out from afar. Though he isn't as animated as others on the team each move he makes carries weight and purpose everyone can see.

Ziggy as Mouse the Mighty

Mouse the Mighty looks harmless compared to what he is capable of. He will fight with all he has for what he believes in.

Ziggy is a simple guy, excited by the best qualities of a hero and deterninted to work as hard as possible to achieve whatever goal he has. Mullo has an optimistic approach to everything and shies away from no challenge. Together they make Mouse the Mighty eager to show everyone the qualities of a true superhero

Fueled with so much excitement he could overflow he sonetines bites off more than he can chew. When he rushes into battle, blinded by the chance to prove himself his flight response is a little too strong and he uses his Miraculous power to split into many tiny versions of himself to run away, halfway through running he remembers who he id though, how powerful he now is and that his friends need him and he comes back with even more confidence and determination than he started with.

He has all it takes to be an outstanding hero and once he gets going he shows all he got. Armed with the knowledge of pop culture and the brain of a suorrhero obsessed boy he can quickly switch styles drastically mid movement. This unpredictability together with his size varying from one bear to many mice makes him practically unstoppable. Not only does he have brute force at his disposal but also he uses his weapon, a jumprope, like nunchucks or to trip people or any other way he once saw and thought looked cool.

[Redacted]

I hope you enjoyed this. I was just hoping i could breath a little more life into the characters I've been playing around with for a while now but you so far only got one still image of each (also hoping to change that soon, I'm really working on that story)

For some of the Kwami's there's just barely any info about them, i hope it doesn't show too much where i was just winging it

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miraculousbelladonna · 5 years ago

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Not Today

Here is the super dark angsty sad thing I wrote on the plane back to America! Born from this prompt I found while scrolling for angst prompts.

There’s a LOT of pain and angst. Hurt with only the teeniest tiniest bit of comfort.

Summary: “You’re in too deep this time.” Ladybug runs a hand over her face, voice shaky. “You’re not going to make it out of this one, Chat.”

“Well,” he manages with a dry laugh. “We always knew it would happen, didn’t we? And let’s be honest, Bug, we both knew it would be me.”

“Yes,” she sighs, eyes glistening with tears as she runs a hand over his hair. “But not today. Not like this. Never like this.”

CW: blood, graphic descriptions of violence, major character death

Let me know if I missed anything else that you guys think should be mentioned. I’m sorry in advance for the pain you’re about to endure.

Hawkmoth’s cane pierces Chat’s chest like a spear, and when he pulls it out it makes a wet, squelching crunch sound, a sound no human body should ever make.

A gaping hole is left behind, in which blood and muscle and splintered bone can be seen, and Chat goes down, hard. He’s on the floor, bleeding, gasping for air, and he doesn’t get up, he can’t, and Ladybug sees red.

This is it.

She throws her yo-yo and it lands unintentionally around Hawkmoth’s neck. (That’s the excuse she gives when someone asks. But she knows her yo-yo never misses its target. She knew she wanted to hurt him as much as he had hurt Chat. More, even. She wanted him to suffer.) She pulls it taut. He falls to his knees. She pulls it tighter still. Tighter.

He falls on his back, flailing. Clawing at his neck. Face turning red and purple with lack of oxygen. She pulls it tighter. She isn’t Marinette. She isn’t Ladybug. She is someone else. She is something else. She is the last line of defense, she’s the only one standing between this man and the city of Paris, the world. She is going to kill this man if it’s the last thing she does. After five minutes without oxygen, brain cells start to die. She can kill him without spilling a drop of his blood, which is much much kinder than he deserves. She pulls the yo-yo even tighter.

“Bug.” She hears Chat calling for her, and it sounds like he’s far away, and it brings her back to herself. She is Ladybug. As much as she wants to, she cannot kill this man. She snatches the brooch off of Hawkmoth. She pulls her yo-yo back.

It’s Gabriel Agreste.

She reminds herself that she is Ladybug. She cannot kill this man. So, she punches him in the face with enough force to knock him out.

She runs to Chat, pulls him up so he’s laying on her lap, calls for her lucky charm and casts the miraculous cure.

The miraculous cure doesn’t work.

Her stomach drops. Her heart crawls up and lodges itself in her throat. This is it.

“You’re in too deep this time.” Ladybug runs a hand over her face, voice shaky. “You’re not going to make it out of this one, Chat.”

“Well,” he manages with a dry laugh. “We always knew it would happen, didn’t we? And let’s be honest, Bug, we both knew it would be me.”

“Yes,” she sighs, eyes glistening with tears as she runs a hand over his hair. “But not today. Not like this. Never like this.”

“Oh, Bug. I love you. I’m sorry I’ll be leaving you alone, but you know this isn’t your fault.” He puts his hand on her face from where he’s laying in her lap. It’s so cold all of a sudden, and he knows it’s just the blood loss, but it also feels like the inevitable, like death itself crawling up on him.

“It was always going to happen this way, but it wasn’t you. It was Hawkmoth. You didn’t do this to me. You didn’t kill me. You saved me. You saved me so many times, in so many ways, and you couldn’t this time, but it is not your fault. It’s ok. You did your best, that's all I could ever ask of you. And there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here. You know that.”

He doesn’t have the strength to hold his hand up anymore. It falls to his side as she holds him and cries. His miraculous is beeping, and they both know once the transformation falls, the magic protecting him will disappear, and he will die.

“Bug. I’m not gonna lie to you. I’m - I’m scared. Tell me something good. Something true.”

“The best and truest thing I know is that I love you, Chaton. You are the best person in my life. My partner, my friend, my confidante, my rock. I love you so much. You are so loved. You will be missed. You will be mourned.”

He lets his eyes slip shut for the last time as he whispers, “I know. I know that now. Thank you.”

She kisses him on the forehead.

His miraculous beeps one final time. The transformation drops. She is holding Adrien Agreste’s dead body in her arms.

The scream that comes out of her reverberates through the entire city, amplified by the magic released by the death of a holder whilst wearing their miraculous. It’s a sound so profoundly human in its rage, its pain, its grief, it gives everyone who hears it chills.

She screams. She screams until her throat tears and she’s spitting blood, and then she keeps screaming. She screams until her vocal chords give up on her. She screams until she physically cannot anymore, and then she cries. It feels like it’s been hours, days, years, but she looks up and realizes it’s only been seconds. She’s in so much pain it felt like time had frozen around her.

The paramedics are waiting to take Adriens body, to take him away from her, and before she realizes what she’s doing she’s up and running down the street with him in her arms, her partner, her first love, her best friend on both sides of the mask, Adrien.

There’s another ambulance at the other end of the street with more paramedics crowded around it, and she’s trapped, trying to figure out how to get out of there without harming Adrien’s body, but then a firefighter comes up to her.

It’s a firefighter she knows. It’s one she trusts. She freezes. He approaches her slowly with his arms out, and he takes Adrien from her. She’s holding herself so tight, her entire body feels like an elastic band about to snap, and the firefighter sees it. He reassures her.

“We’ll take good care of him.”

The paramedics clustered around the ambulance rush in towards the firefighter with a stretcher, bags, cuffs, tubes, machines, so many things, things she couldn’t identify if she were paid to, and everyone is yelling something and there’s just so much blood.

How can one person have so much blood? She read somewhere that the average human body has more than 4 liters of blood in it, but she didn’t realize it was so much. Adrien looks so small, so pale, lifeless, and as someone yells that they can’t find a pulse she’s reminded that he is. Adrien Agreste - Chat Noir - is dead.

She collapses onto the cement and wails as best as her broken throat can manage. She barely manages to make a sound, just a wounded animalistic whine, and it hurts like hell, but she thinks that it’s fitting. It’s fitting that her body is hurting as much as her heart is right now. It’s only fair, especially now that Chat, Adrien, isn’t alive to feel anything anymore, and her hands are still wet with his blood.

Someone picks her up and puts her in the back of the ambulance Adrien is in. She immediately reaches for his hand, the one wearing the miraculous, which is now silver and cold and dimly she thinks, it’s just as dead as Adrien is. It digs into her hand because of how hard she’s holding his.

She’s still crying, still so distraught, still holding Adrien’s hand so tight that her knuckles are white, and the beeping doesn’t register to her.

Her transformation drops. But the beeping continues.

In the next moment everyone is cheering, screaming, the ambulance is shaking with the force of the paramedics jumping in excitement.

It’s the heart monitor.

Adrien’s hand twitches in hers.

He’s alive.

Her voice is wrecked and thick with blood and tears as she leans in close and whispers in his ear, “Not today.”

#ml fic #ml angst #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #angst #ladybug #chat noir #cw: blood #cw: graphic violence #cw: major character death #my fic #there is no way to get to the future from here #there is no way series

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ldrmas · 4 years ago

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Things Will Change Part 2

Notes: Bold words are Janus Lies, this is Post Putting Others First, also Remus is OC because I barely understand on how to write him as a character so I apologize. Warning for Sword Violence. Relationships: Nods to Past OctoSpider, aka Remus x Virgil, SnakeSpider aka Janus x Virgil. Also this isn’t a SpiderLolli aka Logan x Virgil but if you see it that way I do not mind. Taglist: @maryann-draws , @7-slights-at-virgil , @mystic-voyager , @idontcareaboutcanon **-------------------------------------------------------------**

“You wish for me to explain right now?” Janus sighed as he too leveled the logical side with same unimpressed stare. “I understand if you wish to do this at another time, but I need to know the story now.” Logan explained. He did not want to assume that Janus would be a problem, but he had to know for sure if the snake side would be a threat to Virgil, or even a threat to the others. “Very well…” Janus exhaled as he seemed to loosen the tension in his shoulders, most likely to get comfortable. This was going to be a long story. “How much do you know of the dark side of Thomas’s mind?” “Very little.” Logan admitted guilty. He had tried for several years to study the dark side and the sides that would come from it, but he was always stopped one way or another each time. “Understandable, well you must first know that it’s anyone out for themselves over there. Only the strongest able to thrive and show face. Look out for yourself and only yourself. So, you can assume that the other sides were not happy when Remus and I had come to a truce and formed a somewhat friendship. They were then furious when we accepted Virgil into our group.” “He was the weakest among of us all and so he was their punching bag. When we took protection of him and Remus started literally ripping apart sides if they even looked at Virgil with ugly looks, we were hated but the three of us managed to survive. And I, …I don’t exactly understand how it happened but I…when I got to know Virgil…I…” “You started having feelings for him?” Logan asked gently. He was careful with what he was saying for he didn’t know how Janus would react to the words. The snake could storm off in anger and then they would have to finish this another day. Janus only glared at Logan for a moment before he deeply sighed and clenched his hands. “…No.” They both could hear the lie and still they didn’t bring it up. Logan understood and nodded along for Deceit to continue. “I spent more time with him.” Janus continued as he relaxed his hands, gazing down at them so not to meet Logan’s gaze. “It wasn’t ideal, but it was almost peaceful to live with the three of us. As peaceful as it could be of course. The other sides were angry but with Remus on our side they left us alone. We got along and Thomas was safe with the three of you for the time being. Then I found out that Remus and Virgil had been sleeping together for a while.” Logan didn’t react since the octopus had admitted to it earlier, but he did lean closer, intrigued on where the story was going. “They had been joking about it and I at first was surprised. When I learned they were doing it while they didn’t actually had feelings for each other they were just doing it for doing it sake, I was….well, I was enraged.” “I confronted Remus. I have never seen him so scared in all our life.” Janus confessed with a deep chuckle as if the memory itself was one of his happier ones. “He wouldn’t get close to me for a whole week after that.” “Shortly after I approached Virgil about the two of us to start spending nights together. He didn’t say anything about Remus, so it just confirmed that they hadn’t been together because they felt things for one another. And when I finally had Virgil all to myself, I ….it was the closest I had ever been to feeling happy. Being with him was indescribable, Logan, I had never felt like it before. And I didn’t even get to enjoy it for long.”

“Because Virgil left to join us.” Logan stated but jerked back as Janus slammed his fist down upon the table and darkly laughed.

“Oh Logan, Virgil never told you, did he?” “Told me what exactly?” Logan asked as he adjusted himself, fixing the snake with another neutral stare. “I was the one who forced Virgil to leave the dark side of Thomas’s mind.” ~ ~~~

“Virgil, are you still awake?” Logan asked quietly as he entered his room. He made a point to fully close his door and lock it. It wasn’t something he usually did but it was so that others wouldn’t bother Virgil and so that Anxiety would feel like the others couldn’t get in. Logan paused at the door as he caught a noise behind him. The sound of faint sobbing. Virgil was sobbing into a pillow, clenching the feathered thing tightly to his chest. Logan quickly slid back into bed and wrapped his arms around the Anxious side. “Virgil? What’s wrong? Why are you crying? Are you hurt? Did someone come in and hurt you?” Logan asked as he tried to get the purple colored side to turn towards him, but the other didn’t budge. Virgil did shake his head though and mumbled something into the tear-soaked fabric. “What? I couldn’t hear you, Virgil, please tell me what’s wrong?” Hands wrapped around Logan finally and Virgil clenched his fists in Logan’s shirt. “You….you were gone so long…” “Oh…” Logan went stiff but then latched his own arms around Virgil to pull him closer so that the two sides were now basically snuggled together. He placed his hand in the brown locks of the scared side and started to gently stroke. “Oh, Virgil, I’m sorry.” Logic began as he squeezed Anxiety in comfort. “I didn’t realize I was gone for so long. You said you didn’t wish to be alone and that is exactly what I did. Forgive me. I’m here now. It’s alright. Try to sleep. You need rest to heal yourself, not to mention this day has not been kind to any of us. A good night sleep will help dealing with the aftermath of what is to come.” “A good night sleep is not going happening when we have to wake up in…2 hours.” Virgil muttered as he realized what time it was. “Don’t worry about that. I’ve turned off the alarms and my door is locked. Janus has instructed Thomas to take a day and nothing on his schedule is needed tomorrow. So since he will not need us, we shall sleep a full seven hours.” “So your saying you’re going to …sleep in ….because of me? Wow, teach, I’m touched.” If there had been any light on in the room Logan would have been able to see the faint smile curve upon Virgil’s face. “Of course, you are. You and I are literally touching each other right at this mome-Ouch! You flicked me in the cheek? Why?” Logan snapped as he moved away bringing his hand up to rub at where Virgil’s nail had struck. “I’m going to start doing that when you take my words in a literal sense. You know exactly what I meant, but I’ll say it again. I’m happy that your willing to break your schedules, your rules, your general youness just so I can sleep. Or that we can sleep, I guess. I’m….well….I’m grateful, Logan.”

“Yes, well…” Logan sighed as he moved back to his original position going back to stroking Virgil’s hair. “…it is the logical thing to do after all and, it is the least I can do after the day you went through. But let’s not dwell on it anymore. Let’s sleep, anything else that needs to be said, can be said at a later time. Goodnight, Virgil.” “Night, Lo’.” Virgil replied as he moved just a tad closer, now his head was resting under Logan’s chin. He usually wasn’t one who liked to cuddle but tonight it felt amazing. It almost reminded him of other times where he shared a bed with another. He moved away from those thoughts and settled in for the night for Logan was right, now was not the time to be thinking about that.

~~~~

It was only three maybe four hours of quiet before pounding resonated through the room. Logan jerked awake but was thankful that Virgil was still deeply asleep in his arms. The Anxious side was a heavy sleeper so only certain things would wake him. The knocking at Logan’s door was not one of them.

“Logan? Logan! Please, it’s Patton, please I need your help!” The logical side could hear as he got up from his bed and spared a moment to tuck the blanket around Virgil. He hated leaving the Anxious side once more, but Patton seemed to be truly upset. He moved over to his door and opened it, quickly stepping out into the hall so that Patton couldn’t see within his room. “What is it Patton?” “It’s Roman! He’s fighting Janus! In the kitchen, I couldn’t stop them!” Patton was sobbing and it was all he needed to say before Logan was rushing down the hallway to the Common Palace Kitchen. When he came around the corner to the kitchen, he could see what Patton had said was actually happening. Roman was pushing Janus up against the stove with his faithful samurai sword. The only thing stopping him from cutting the snake in half was that Janus had been fast enough to parry his attack with his shepherds cane. Roman was dressed in a casual outfit of a simple short sleeved shirt and jeans. Janus was still in his cloak outfit. It appeared that he had not gone to bed even after finishing talking with Logan.

Despite Thomas not being a fighter, Roman was known for having the most strength out of all the light sides. He could fight for hours on end without tiring. There were even some days that he could go as far as beat Remus in one way or another. Him squaring against Janus was in no way a fair match.

The yellow colored side was struggling to keep the Prince back. The creative side had plenty of opens for attack, but the snake was focusing all his energy on his hold on his cane. Roman was growling as he pressed forward without yielding. Janus ground his teeth doing his best to push back with what little strength he had.

“Where is he!? Tell me!” Roman practically roared but Janus simply glared back at him. “I don’t know where he is!” The snake hissed both as a reply then because the oven’s door handle was digging into his back. He wouldn’t be able to hold Roman back much longer. “ROMAN!” Logan yelled as he came into the kitchen and latched himself onto the creative side.

The two struggled as Logan managed to move the red colored side backwards. Logic grabbed onto the sword with his arms around Roman. He wrestled to get Roman to drop a limb and once the prince did, Logan twisted the arm holding the sword at an awkward position behind Roman’s back. “Drop it, Roman, now!”

When Roman refused, Logan twisted the arm further. “I said, Drop it!” “Ah!” Roman growled as the pressure of Logan’s grip was finally too much. The sword clattered to the ground after falling out of the prince’s hand. Logan quickly kicked it away then proceeded to manhandle Roman up against a wall just outside the kitchen. Roman didn’t lose the burning fire of rage of the fight and began to now push against Logan. The bright blue side did his best to keep the creative side back. It was easier said than done. “Roman, stop! What the hell are you doing!” Logan barked as he pushed harder so that Roman stayed up against the wall. “LOGAN LOOK OUT!” Someone had yelled and suddenly the Logical side was jerked backwards. Arms had grabbed onto Logan’s shoulders and moved him in reverse back into the kitchen. A morning star mace had smashed into Roman’s chest literally pinning the prince to the wall. If the arms hadn’t pulled him away, Logan would have been pinned as well with the mace in his back. The logical side took a moment to glance at his shoulders. The gloved hands squeezed him in reassurance and Logan sighed out in relief. He would have to remember to thank Janus for his actions after all this. Patton had yelled out when the mace had made contact with Roman’s stomach, especially when he saw the red colored side spit out blood. “Oh, shut up, SappyPappy! He’s bloody fine! Get it because there’s blood and everything.” Remus chuckled but he was the only one laughing. “Anyway, what the f-bleep-k is going on? I could hear you guys all the way in the dark side!” “Though I do not agree with the language, I too want to know what is going on? Roman explain to us what you think you are doing?” Logan agreed as he moved forward once Janus dropped his hands. Roman’s chest was the only thing pinned so he lifted his hand up to wipe his mouth. “I- I wanted to talk Virgil. I went to his…” Roman coughed at the pain in his chest. Patton tried to reach out to Remus hoping that he would let his brother go but when Logan’s glare shot his way he dropped his hand and remained still. “…I went to his room to talk to him but he wasn’t there. I looked all over for him. Then I…” Roman growled as he locked eyes with Janus, who hadn’t moved from the stove. “…Then I saw him. If anyone would know where Virgil was, he would. So I was just asking Deceit were Virgil was, that’s it.” “You are doing nothing of the sort. You’re just saying falsehoods! First, you did not look every where for Virgil because if you did, you would have come to my room. You would have knocked on my door and I would have let you know that Virgil was sleeping in my room with me. Second of all, his name is Janus!” Logan spat as he pointed to the side in the kitchen. Janus had relaxed somewhat since Remus had a hold on his brother, but he looked back to the logical side who said his name. He would never dare admit it, but he was grateful for someone sticking up for him. “And Janus did not know where Virgil was last night because I did not inform him of such things. Nor would he know because he has been in the kitchen all night long.” Logan kept going and all the sides could see the waves of anger radiating off him.

“You say you were asking for the location of Virgil, but I say no! No, what you were doing was looking for any excuse to attack your fellow side. Whether you like it or not Janus is here and will be from now on. He is one of us so you no longer get to attack just because you believe him to be our enemy. Now apologize to Janus.” The room went quiet as they all waited for Roman to speak. The prince just continued to glare at the snake for a moment or two before he looked away refusing to say a word. “Very well.” Logan stepped forward and grabbed the mace’s handle. Remus’s eyes widen in surprise, but he didn’t bother fighting the blue colored side who pulled the mace from Roman’s chest and held it in his hands. “Then go to your room or where ever you need to go to go calm down, and only return when you can sincerely apologize. And do not go to my room to bother Virgil.” Roman moved himself away from the wall and touched his chest to lightly heal the damage. He would do a more extensive healing session when he was back in his room. He glared at both Janus and Logan once more before walking away towards the rooms. “Remus, I’m sorry to ask but can you go with him?” Logan asked as he held out the mace to the embodiment of intrusive thoughts. “Oh, you got it, Lollipop! I’ll do whatever ya say if ya keep talking like that.” Remus giggled as he then turned to follow his brother. He turned back though and licked along Logan’s cheek when he had grabbed his Morningstar mace. “Mmmmm, spicy! Laters dweebs.” Once Remus was gone Patton passed Logan a dish cloth which he used to wipe his cheek. Patton took a seat at the kitchen table and dropped his head into his hands. Janus sat across from him but didn’t stop looking at Logan.

The logical side sighed as he pocketed the cloth then turned to the table. He didn’t sit since he had to get back to his room. “Janus, I can’t apologize for Roman, but I am sorry still. Are you alright?” “I’m unharmed. You arrived before any damage could happen. I would like to thank you for stepping in, you didn’t have to do that for me.” Janus admitted as he finally looked away from the logical side. He couldn’t look Logan in the eye while being sincere. “As if I would stand by and allow him to attack you without justification. That wasn’t right for him to do that. We’re all angry from what happened but nothing will get solved from fighting each other.” Logan noticed that Patton glanced up at him as if to say something, but he immediately held up his hand.

“Don’t Patton, I do not want to talk to you just yet. You and I need to talk but not right now. I am still too tired. Now, I’m going back to bed. Virgil and I will most likely be out for dinner but not before.” “You never sleep in this late.” Patton said gently. He had turned back to the table to appear smaller. “Yes, but Janus has informed Thomas to take a day. Nothing today is important enough to worry about so I am agreeing with Janus that I can be selfish for just the day. I’m going to get my full 7 hours of sleep just at a different time than I usually do. And with that I’m done, I will see you both later.” Logan immediately turned away and went to his room. Once he was back at his door, he checked it to make sure that no one had tried to get in. The knob was still locked so it seemed that it hadn’t been bothered. He chanced a glance at the Imagination door down the hall but it wasn’t as if he would be able to tell if Remus and Roman were in there or in Roman’s room. He sighed as he dropped those thoughts. Sleep needed to come first. He unlocked his door and smiled as he noticed Virgil still wrapped in his blankets. He gently closed his door and moved to his bed. Once he got his remaining sleeping hours he would focus on what needed to be done. TBC ~~ Ending Note: I have absolutely no idea where I want this to go so I’m sorry this is taking so long to update. Sorry everyone, alright be safe and I hope you have enjoyed!

#sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides #virgil x remus #virgil x janus #older protective brother logan #logan sanders #ts logan #ts virgil #ts roman #ts janus #ts deceit #ts remus #ts patton #sanders sides fanfic #post putting others first #deceit x anxiety #deceit sanders #anxiety sanders

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pomegranate-belle · 5 years ago

Note

happy new year! for the prompt game thing: mattfoggy, soulmates!au, fake dating, prompt 19? 😂

Fake Dating + Soulmates AU = Fake Soulmates AU, right?? Right?? Anyway this took too long because it spiraled out of control and now it’s 2k+ words and there’s like four or five more snippets of future scenes in this AU hiding in my notes app now, lmao

(Also, apologies to anyone reading this who’s named Stephanie, lol)

—

It all starts because Matt is a flirty bastard who gravitates towards women that are capital-T Trouble like a child in galoshes gravitates towards puddles. That is — eagerly, enthusiastically, and with precisely zero regard for the people in the splash zone.

Foggy, who has become a permanent resident of the splash zone, is best friends with him anyway, for some unfathomable reason.

Which is a mean thing to think. It’s not unfathomable. Matt is funny and whip-smart and a big nerd and he just gets Foggy, and his smile...

Anyway, life in the splash zone is worth it. Just, you know, it’s hard to remember that after your bestie’s date steals your wallet or gets you sexiled or stuck in the middle of a bar fight that is definitely not your fault. Or, apparently, tries to swap out the non-accessible petition form your (blind, by the way) best friend means to sign with a marriage certificate.

Yeah. Really. That’s the level of what-the-fuckery they’ve reached now.

“I think I need your help with this one,” Matt says with a grimace.

“You didn’t actually end up signing it, did you?” asks Foggy, because, well, with their luck who knows.

But Matt shakes his head.

“No, it’s just. Uh... I, um, don’t think she’s going to stop.”

Maybe Foggy should just smother himself with his pillow. Or smother Matt with his pillow. The second one seems like it would solve a lot more problems, since this mess is entirely Matt’s fault.

“And what, exactly, do you expect me to do about that, Matthew!” he demands. “You’re the one who decided to sleep with Stephanie Jenkins even after I warned you about her crazy eyes!”

“And I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, ok? You told me so, is that what you want to hear?” Matt all but whines, burying his face in his arms just enough to leave his eyes peeking out.

He’s on his bed, head towards the footboard and rolled onto his stomach for maximum cuteness. His eyes aren’t quite pointed the right direction, but that hardly matters. Matt’s pleading expressions are more effective even when they’re aimed a little right of their target than anybody else’s could be from straight on.

“Ugh.”

“Foggy, come on.”

“Ughhhhh.”

“Foggy.”

Matt’s big, wide sad-puppy-dog eyes get impossibly bigger and wider.

“Ok, ok! Fine, I’ll help! Stop pouting, jeez,” Foggy concedes in the face of Matt’s pleading expression and general air of hopelessness. “But don’t expect me to come up with a plan or anything, she’s yourcreepy hookup.”

Matt’s posture changes immediately now that he’s gotten what he wants. He goes up on his elbows, grinning the grin that always means chaos is coming.

“Gotta pull out the big guns for this one,” he claims. “Even she’d have to back off over a soulmate match.”

Foggy, who has maybe spent the past year and a half idly checking his skin for a mark that could potentially tie him to Matt, feels his stomach flip uncomfortably.

“You’re not suggesting...” His throat goes dry. “You and I fake being...”

“Well, I need someone in on it with me who won’t get the wrong idea,” explains Matt, cheerful as can be while he crushes Foggy’s stupid heart into tiny little pieces.

Foggy swallows hard.

“Yeah, um. Makes sense,” he croaks out.

“Good,” says Matt, all business, sitting up fully and holding out a box. “I already borrowed some temporary tattoo pens off Marci, and she promised to keep our secret if we buy her drinks next weekend.”

“Why does Marci have temporary tattoo pens?” asks Foggy as he gets up off his own bed and accepts them, since it seems like the most innocuous of all the questions rattling around in his head.

“To take notes on her arms, apparently,” Matt replies.

“Yeah, that tracks.”

Marci’s the kind of person who could get away with slightly-eccentric behavior like that, mostly because she was dead terrifying. And also hot. She was the kind of person people wanted to step on them. Not that Foggy did. Or anything.

“Anyway,” Foggy said, maybe a little too loud, clearing his throat. “Where is it you want your soulmark, then?”

“Umm.” Matt tilts his head. “My... Arm, I guess? Isn’t that the best place to make it visible for Stephanie? I mean. Where did you think I wanted it, my butt?”

As Matt asks the question, his ears go a little pink, which offsets his sarcasm and is also hilariously adorable. Matt’s a cool guy, but he also spent like ten years surrounded by nuns, and every so often that becomes very, very clear. It’s definitely one of Foggy’s favorite things about Matt. Well, along with literally everything else about Matt. He grins.

“No offense, buddy, but you definitely are the kind of person who’d have one on your butt.”

“I am not!” laughs Matt. “What does that, what does that even mean?”

“Listen, Murdock, some people are just butt-soulmark people, that’s all. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Shut up,” Matt says, his voice still bright with humor. “It’s going on my arm.”

He shoves up the sleeve of his slightly-baggy sweater and holds out his right arm, palm up. So, Foggy digs around in the box of temporary tattoo pens until he finds one with black ink, and then settles next to Matt on the bed. Once he’s got himself in a good position, he accepts Matt’s arm, grabs it gently by the wrist to draw it down onto his lap.

And it’s like it finally sinks in, what he’s about to do. He’s going to literally mark Matt Murdock as his — never mind that it’s a farce to get rid of some creepy chick, or what Matt said about not getting the wrong idea. In a very real and physical sense, he’s about to draw something that will bind them together, at least in everyone else’s eyes. This goes way beyond bar napkin doodles, beyond wistful musings about Nelson and Murdock. People are going to see this mark and know—

They’re going to know what Foggy’s been trying not to know for a long time now. That he’s hopelessly, irrevocably, pathetically in love with Matt.

“What should it be?” Foggy asks, heart thundering in his chest as he holds the pen in one hand and the soft, pale expanse of Matt’s upturned arm in the other.

The smile on Matt’s face looks sweet and coy. A knock-out punch disguised as a cool, sweet drink. And as much as he pretends he’s a beer and cheap whiskey man, Foggy’s always been a sucker for the kind of fruity cocktails that knock him on his ass.

“Something fitting.”

“Gee, why didn’t I think of that,” mutters Foggy. “Speak now or I’m giving you an avocado.”

Matt tries halfheartedly to tug his arm away, laughing.

“No way, not an avocado. Something serious! Like... Scales of justice.”

“I see your hard-on for Lady Justice hasn’t diminished at all,” Foggy jokes, but begins drawing the scales anyway.

It takes enough focus that he’s able to override any feelings of embarrassment. And then he’s scrawling the same design onto his own skin, his left arm and Matt’s right pressed side-by-side as they lie across Foggy’s knee. Finally, it’s done and he caps the pen.

“Perfect,” he says, pleased, as he compares the two marks. “They’re identical. Suck on that, Mr. Trenkamp, I can too draw straight lines.”

Is it the height of maturity to invoke your hated fourth grade art teacher like ten years after he first insulted your mediocre art skills? No. But being the height of maturity is lame anyway, Foggy decides.

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” jokes Matt, and his expression is so soft that Foggy has to look away before he, like, spontaneously combusts or something.

“Well, trust me, pal, those are some primo fake soulmarks.”

“Thanks, Fog.”

Matt nudges Foggy’s shoulder with his own, then holds out a loose fist. Knocking their knuckles lightly together, Foggy can’t help the giddy smile on his face.

“Anytime, Matt.”

—

They don’t get a chance to show off their marks until two days later, when they’re strolling across campus towards the dining hall and Matt pauses apropos of nothing and rolls up his sleeves to his elbows, juggling his white cane a little in the process. He then proceeds to fumble for Foggy’s wrists and roll his sleeves up too.

“Matt, what—”

“Shh, act natural!” Matt mutters, knocking his cane lightly against Foggy’s shoe, and then pressing a warm hand to his back to get him walking again.

And, honest to god, not a minute later up walks Stephanie Jenkins. Foggy takes a good moment to consider that maybe Matt’s lady-radar is actually real. In the next, Matt is stretching his arms (and his cane, the goof) above his head, right wrist crossed in front of the left so his fake soulmark will be in sight. Stephanie jerks to a stop, eyes trained on it. After the stretch, for which Foggy very carefully avoids looking at Matt to see if his shirt rides up, Matt folds up his cane and holds out his hand, fingers curled slightly, the way he usually does when he’s asking for Foggy’s arm for guiding purposes.

“Fogs?”

Well, it’s a cue if Foggy’s ever seen one, so he presses his arm into Matt’s grip, making sure the underside of his forearm is turned up for Stephanie’s sake. Her eyes go huge. Foggy gets the feeling that, no matter what he’s trying to save Matt from, he’s going to feel like an asshole if she cries. Thankfully, her face turns puce and angry instead. She’s probably thinking something unflattering about Foggy’s suitability for a guy like Matt but, well. Fuck her anyway.

Just to nail in his point, apparently, Matt traces his free hand up Foggy’s shoulder and into his hair, brushing a long lock of it behind his ear before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

In all honesty, Foggy pretty much forgets all about Stephanie Jenkins after that. Just continues on towards the dining hall, narrating on autopilot in between long bouts of staring at Matt with a racing heart and pathetic cow eyes.

—

The two of them get a frankly embarrassing number of ‘I knew it’s from their classmates, go nearly broke keeping Marci Stahl in vodka, and kiss four more times (three on the cheek, and one chaste, close-mouthed peck on the lips that nearly stops Foggy’s heart).

Also, Foggy gets Stephanie Jenkins’ crazy-eyes glare for three straight weeks. He loves every second of it. Suck it, Stephanie Jenkins, he thinks every time. Which is, yeah, probably a little mean, but hey, this is the lady who tried to take advantage of Matt’s blindness to trick him into (admittedly, a definitely not legally enforceable) marriage. Foggy doesn’t have an ounce of sympathy for her.

Though he risks jinxing himself, Foggy does eventually ask how long Matt thinks the ruse should go on. When Matt decides they should keep up the act until at least the end of the semester, Foggy tries not to agree too eagerly. After all, he’s not supposed to get the wrong idea. Eventually Matt’s heartbreaker ways will win out and he’ll want to find a hot girl to kiss. He’s trusting Foggy with an awful lot, but it doesn’t mean he’s going to... To, you know, fall in love with him or anything. But they’ll still always be best friends. That’s what really matters.

—

After three months, Foggy is used to seeing the fake soulmark on the inside of his left arm when he showers. It doesn’t make his heart squeeze anymore. He no longer has to remind himself that it’s still fake even when soap doesn’t wash it away — all it would take is a little makeup remover, after all. He knows that. It’s fake even though it’s there in a form of semi-permanence. Just another fact of life.

But this particular morning he stops cold, because there’s something on the inside of his right arm too. A perfect, identical mirror image of the scales of justice on his left.

Maybe he was so tired he drew another one on the wrong arm when refreshing the fake soulmark. Maybe. But probably not. Foggy takes slow, deep breaths until the end of his shower. Then he dries off, dresses — pulling on his shirt with the sleeves rolled all the way down — and hurries back to the dorm room for the box of makeup remover wipes they keep next to their sink now.

It’s fine, he tells himself. It’ll wash off. It’s ok. His hands are trembling so hard that he has to squeeze the wipe to keep hold of it and some of the remover solution drips onto his left arm. The fake soulmark there begins to smudge.

The one on the right stays stark and perfect.

“That’s not funny,” Foggy tells it, voice shaking, but though he scrubs at it until the skin’s raw — with the wipe, with hand sanitizer, with isopropyl — it doesn’t come off.

Eventually he’s got to face the facts. His dumb heart has somehow conned his body into producing a genuine, grade-A soulmark for his fake soulmate.

He is so monumentally fucked.

#mattfoggy #writing #thanks for the ask!#ellicelluella

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heyheydidjaknow · 4 years ago

Text

Alright, so I'm not actually finished with this, but I'm half asleep and that makes it difficult to write or edit properly. I owe you a chapter, though, so until I can write coherently, here ya go. Not even gonna tag this yet.

Chapter 14

“I trust you won’t be creepy.”

“I’m thankful.” Yoshi runs his thumb along the rim of his cup slowly. “You have little faith in me, as I understand it.”

You try not to be disrespectful. “Well, things in your life could’ve gone better, right?”

Your untouched drink is cradled in your hands. “You don’t regret anything?”

He nods. “It was what I was taught.”

“Speaking of them,” he continues, “Donatello tells me you have been experiencing night terrors.”

‘Snitch. Did he tell me he told him?’ “You don’t?”

His eyebrows rise. “Sorry?”

“We have the same trauma,” you explain simply. “Both our families died in fires we caused. Think that counts.”

He does not even flinch. “I’ve never thought of it that way.” He smiles softly. You want to punch him in the face. “I suppose so, yes.”

“You seem pretty calm about it.”

“Right.” You crisscross your legs in front of you. “Yeah, the makes sense.”

‘Poorly. I’d guess they’d cope poorly.’

“I understand that you and I have differences in ideals and morals.”

“Not his circus not his monkeys. ‘Sides,” you shrug, “he was already being really caring and understanding, and I was already sobbing my eyes out, which I’m sure he already told you, so.”

You stare down at your tea. “Are you going to elaborate?”

“Not if I don’t have to, no.” Your face heats up.

“Do you want my help?”

‘I hate this,’ you squirm. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be here if Donnie hadn’t asked me to.”

“For someone who believes in leaving people to their own devices,” he notes, “you seem to value the requests of my son a great deal.”

Your knees are back up to your chest. “He’s important to me. He’s been there for me. It’s the least I can do.”

He takes a beat to gather his thoughts. You brace yourself for a lecture.

“You care for him, then.”

You nod once, treading carefully.

“Romantically?”

You still do not look at him directly, staring instead at the gorgeous screen door. “I dunno.” Your fingernails scratch at the surface. “I’m not exactly in my right mind, you understand.”

“I can’t say I do.” A pause as he takes another drink. “Then again, I’ve only felt for one woman all my life.”

“Look at that,” you try to joke. “Another difference between us.”

“Do you mind letting me in, then?”

“A little,” you admit, “but I will since there isn’t really a point to being here if I don’t.”

“That’s the spirit.” You can hear his smile.

You set the cup down again, glancing up at him before fiddling with the laces on your shoe. “People under stress and without anywhere else to turn tend to latch onto the first people they relate to,” you explain, practicing your knot tying with fumbling fingers; there is no harm in practicing your dexterity. “He was the first guy I met after I died, got kidnapped, and almost got killed by a giant vine creature. I like him,” you clarify quickly, “I really do, but it’s hardly fair to pursue that sort of relationship, especially considering everything going on with the Kraang and Shredder.” Your eyes go out of focus. “We get along great,” you mumble. “He’s sweet, kind, generous, and empathetic. He deserves to make sense of his feelings properly without me muddying things up with my possibly trauma-induced attachment.”

“So,” he clarifies, “it is not that you aren’t in love with him, but, instead, you’re worried for his sake?”

“I fell for my wife at thirteen,” he smiles. “It’s certainly not impossible.”

You look up at him. “So, you don’t have any reservations about it?”

You sigh. “I guess, yeah.” You adjust your blanket again. ‘Seems counterintuitive, teaching them the art of murder, but I guess that’s his normal.’ “That’s just a general good parenting thing though, right? I’d hope you’d want that even if you weren’t a giant rat and they weren’t anthropomorphic turtles.”