#throwing this out into the void since i know i probably wont write it

[brainmuncher]

Many years ago, in a different country, a set of twins were born. In another room, a runaway league of assassin also gave birth to a baby boy.

To punish the runaway, a hit was put on their newborn son. The assassin silently traversed the hospital and grabbed the baby from off the cart as the nurse was distracted.

After successfully securing the child the assassin ran off into the woods behind the hospital. They grinned to themselves as this was their first mission and glad to have made such a great success. Preparing a dagger in one hand they raise it above the child to strike when...

The wristband on the baby twisted to look at them, and with horror, they read the last name 'Grayson'.

They kidnapped one of the Grayson twins...

In a panic, they threw the baby into the woods and fled back to the hospital. But by the time they got there to kill the real baby they were sent for it was too late. The runaway assassin and the child were gone.

Meanwhile, two ectobiologists scour the woods behind a hospital on their honeymoon. What better way to celebrate marriage than with ghost hunting in a new country!

Then they hear the sounds of crying... suffering spooks! Is that a baby? Well we already have our daughter... why not give her a new baby brother :)

Dick notices that Talia gives him a weird look whenever she sees him. It's one that he has never seen her wear towards any of the other bats, so it bothers him.

Then one day after Damian and him defeat an assassin sent to kill Damian Talia shows up and says something that makes Dicks blood run cold.

“I'm so glad that you're the Grayson twin that hadn't been killed.”

[snow--blanket]

got bored so decided to send some of my wips here, i havent been writing for ikeseries in a while but feel free to lmk which ones intrigue you guys the most!

if your heart was a ship (then take me to sea) - masamune centric

"Why are you hesitating?" Masamune could understand Mitsuhide better on most days, but not this one. "Steal her away." Mitsuhide had habits he couldn't wrap his head around. His smile and his secrets, he could understand, but this – this passivity and the way he said "He suits her," as if it was a secret only the two of them knew, and he was but an outsider.

Mitsuhide was much like calm waters disturbed. Although he reflected the faces of those around him, no one had dared to unravel his yellow scarf and guiling smile. Now he was unmoving, stagnant. It was a sort of tranquility he saw in the eyes of dead men. He knew the way she held his heart at her fingertips in the taut way he spoke, as if it squeezed his heart a little further in every beat.

"It's a mark," Mitsuhide once said to him, the space between them a vacuum and a void. "The mark of a man in love."

"Or the marks of a martyr in the making."

Mitsuhide chuckled softly, and it was a sound he'd never heard before. "You never realise the fire until the smoke stings your eyes, as they say." His opened his hand, and closed them in a fist. "But the fire was soft."

And that's all he needed? A distant sensation of a life never lived? A memory that brought a smile and tears to his eyes? Masamune couldn't understand such a thing. Life is there to be enjoyed, with no spare effort or doubts.

He wanted to say more, but the moon was bright and lovely that night, and tea would make for better company than words that fell on deaf ears.

request from a friend, beni, with a prompt of hideyoshi x writer!mc

“Do you think it'll sell?” She looked him straight in the eyes as she asked that. Usually, in all the times he's comforted people, they were mellow, meek. Here she said it like a challenge. Prove it to me. What would he need to prove? That her books would sell? That she was brilliant?

Hideyoshi hummed. Comforting people wasn't exactly something he did conscientiously, but ever since Masamune pointed out the 'trail of broken hearts' he left, he started to feel more self conscious about the way he treated women. “I'm sure it will.” The words pulsed in his chest as it left him. He wanted to do more for her. He wanted to explain to her that her writing—herself—nested in his ribcage, like there was a beehive in place of his heart that always threatened honey to seep from his tongue. He knew that kind of behaviour would lead to being heartbroken, though.

He knew it would not be hers.

She scoffed, a bitter smile on her lips. He didn't blame her. He probably failed the test. “You can do better than that.”

He inhaled a breath. “I honestly don't know. But I will stay by your side no matter what happens.”

She smiled. He couldn't tell if that bitterness had dissolved. It was hard to tell with her. “Thanks, I guess.”

Ouch. Still, it wasn't his first time she'd done that before, so it didn't sting as much as it used to. It was okay. He dealt with Ieyasu before. He could deal with her.

the others are more personal works so i wont show them (at least not rn), but i thought i'd just throw these out here 👋

[hyperewok1]

Oh, I'm getting *mileage* out of this last one. For Nyomi - 4. For Harridin - 30. For Jillian - 18. For Jerrica - 19. And for Remi - 15

4. Has your character ever been hurt or betrayed by someone they thought they could depend on? What happened?

Hooooo boy. First and foremost is her first love and fellow Jedi, Orias, of who they did the whole cascade of terrible ideas and heartfelt promises that two young people working closely together in the midst of war are wont to do, especially without any older Jedi to keep an eye on them. If Nyomi had been more willing to be objective with him and admitting his slipping from Jedi teachings at a rate even worse than her own, she might not have been so hurt and betrayed by the later revelations that he joined the Sith after having been though dead in a shuttle crash (to be fair, the Sith didn't give him much of a choice, but he was easy prey). So him trying to convince her to turn to the Dark Side before she inevitably killed him was certainly an experience for her, one that took her a long time to move past. Other assorted incidents that followed are pretty minor in comparison, though she was really, really miffed at one ex who revealed himself to be a SIS agent a good long while after those other heartfelt promises there had inevitably gone awry, but at least neither tried to kill the other (she did punch him once, but over an entirely different incident). There’s probably a reason or two why the Jedi Code has some good points. 

30. What makes them feel safe or secure? What makes them feel insecure or unsafe? Harridin feels safe with Jallira, obviously, and thus the opposite is how he feels decidedly in over his head when Sith stuff is involved. Not unreasonably, considering that one time he got Force pulled and impaled by a lightsaber.

18. Would society call your character a good guy or a bad guy? what would they say they are? This is the thing I really like exploring with Jillian, because there is a reason angels are obliged to start with BE NOT AFRAID. So it depends on how Jillian gets involved and how successful she is at it. Bringing a priest back to life in front of his congregation is pretty endearing if mildly intimidating, invoking the wrath of God against someone who seems (or actually is) a normal human is a lot more terrifying. For better or worse, Jillian certainly does not want to give answers, or stick around for long after these things happen. And some situations are left worst than others despite her best efforts and even with a successful smiting of evil. So there's probably a wanted poster or two out there for some likely entirely accurate charges. Jillian, of course, angsts greatly over these things despite being wholly sure she is doing the right thing, since she also knows full well that the right thing is still leaving a trail of varying levels of devastation, even if most of the devastation is more by way of the various monsters. (This is also very topical to the thing I'm currently writing, I swear I'm going to finish it.)

19. What is your character insecure about? Jerrica worries about her mothering, given the months spent out at sea to provide for her daughter, and the gambling and boxing as alternative incomes when she was back in Morley, even if that's still several steps above what the gangs get up to in those parts of the city. She very much wants nothing more than for Mina to grow up knowing her letters and numbers and getting an apprenticeship somewhere safe and mildly respectable, like a dressmaker or a midwife, but of course Jerrica feels even that's a difficult prospect. And that's without getting into the whole bit where her daughter was nearly ritually sacrificed and then thrown into the Void.

15. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared? Remi doesn't want to talk about it, but she's (in theory) accepted that her own death is a distinct possibility given the stakes at hand and she's willing to die for the quest, and she's starting to accept that she alternatively might have to choose the quest over Alisaie's life. Buuuuut the whole Fate Worse Than Death throws a wrench in that, much less the obligation to try to actually ensure her death happens before worse fates could happen in such a situation. So Alisaie getting corrupted is most definitely her foremost fear that she really, really doesn't want to talk about further than has already ben discussed. (Though a certain gift did help with that fear.) But thinking and/or talking about these things are generally worse than the incident itself, because at least then she attempt something recklessly heroic.

[larksinging]

talk about any potentials u might have! and like what youd wanna do with them if u did app them!

okay lets see

most likely is beliax, who i might rename… what was my idea earlier… oh, ferrosia. beliax isn’t that fitting for her lore. ANYWAY she is one of my warcraft ocs! ive talked about her a bit, but. she is a black dragon, who are Designed Evil, but i enjoy kind of… playing with that a bit. her primary deal is that she was hatched after most of the other black dragons were all wiped out after trying to destroy the world. she barely managed to scrape by. she claims she just wants a quiet life to herself, but that… would never actually satisfy her. she has an unending need to power to try and fill some vague void in her from feeling so isolated. she’s a little tragic because she probably would’ve ended up less awful if some other dragons had given her a bit of guidance when she was very young….. but she also throws away any chances to have a stable life with other dragons in a similar situation. 

ANYWAY. i am trying to push myself to app her because villain! denny needs villains! i need a villain! and she’s not like laurel, she’s not gonna get immediately routed to a redemption arc. she’s kind of redemption arc proof, actually, she’s like a kung fu panda villain that rejects a redemption arc. one of my main problems is i DON’T know what she’d do exactly. she’s clever and scheming and likes to charm her way into different social circles to try and build up power, but usually ends up getting impatient and throwing them away/destroying what she made. but i don’t know… what she’d do? she could join up with the MLD, or maybe team up with jack, or… i don’t know. but at this point i figure it might be better to “app a villain and then figure it out” than “sit around and don’t app at all” 

and then a few others…

ive also considered arvensia (also maybe be renamed). she’s another warcraft oc, also a dragon. she’s a twilight dragon! theyre a bit weird. she’s kind of a foil to beli/ferri, in that arvensia is everything she SAYS she wants. arvensia is also a designed chaotic evil dragon, but she’s chaotic neutral. she really does just want a life of her own and to get away from her kind’s terrible history and reputation. in some versions, the two of them team up, but if i app them both to denny they probably won’t know each other. i think she has a lot of potential to end up hanging out with some denny people, especially some groups on the edge. i just gotta… differentiate her from laurel. she’s the sort who could end up dragged along with heroes, OR working with villains, OR just in some neutral group… she’s not a bad person, but she’s not really a good one either. she’ll take umbrage with like, some things beli does, but she’d look at the mld or jack and just go “who cares, not my problem”. her and beli/ferri are both Young Dragons, both under ten. (so mentally theyre in like... i think i decided beli/ferri is like early twenties, arvensia is like mid twenties)

and for a warcraft CANON, i’ve considered apping jaina. she is….. an old warcraft character. she was introduced in warcraft 3, i think, which came out in 2002. and she’s been pretty involved in lore since then. she’s this like, very powerful human mage who originally really just wanted peace between the horde and alliance and was kind of a symbol for that. but then some intense trauma happened and she got more… vengeful before people talked her down. her most recent stuff has involved reflecting on her past and going back to the homeland that hates her. she is, uh, a warcraft women, which means her writing is all over the place and very ?? at times, but… conceptually a lot of it is compelling. ive hesitated because 1) warcraft characters sometimes feel weird outside their universe, since the world is one of the best parts of that lore 2) ive been waiting to finish the new question stuff, but health issues and… game balance issues have been a block 3) the weird and baffling moral stances this expansion has been taking, esp re: jaina’s old feelings about the horde?? i wont get into that, but. maybe someday. she’d be pretty interesting to involve with other magical characters, and she is pretty op but not likely to involved herself in things unless pushed, which… i feel like could be used somehow, but i’m not sure how. 

actually i gotta link it, jaina’s warbringers song is basically the best thing blizzard has put out in years, even without context i feel like it’s worth the watch (warning for… some sytlized corpses, i guess? eh)

also, as you know, emily from until dawn! meeks mentioned maybe apping jess and i thought about if there was anyone i really liked, and… well. i always wanted to like sam, but emily stood out to me more. i think because she’s such an asshole, but in that until dawn cast way of “mean asshole until stuff gets real”. i’ve talked about her potential before so i don’t have much to add. i’m just sitting on this idea while i canon review slowly and see how i feel. it would be fun to have more college-aged kids around denny…

[whimstories]

BalconyAU Pt 6

Part 1 // Part 5// Next 

A/N: Everyone that has ever comment and been just fabulous human beings, (Tumblr, A03, or Fanfiction) you all are the only reason I’m finishing this. You. You right there reading. So thank yourselves, you’re doing good work.

I always write to improve, so comments and critiques are welcome! Please rip this to bits! Thank you!

Word Count: 3k

Waking up and staring at a blemish on her ceiling, Marinette is reminded she has no patience for subterfuge. She asserts this fact all morning as she tugs on her clothes, crumpling the fabric in her grip, and withers frustrated glares out her balcony window; a pair of pigeons stare back, flaunting their easy system of mating on the criteria that their partner has wings and is alive.

Chat Noir fragrantly proclaimed his intentions almost a week ago; to Plagg, then Manon, and thus essentially the whole building, and he hasn’t followed through in the slightest. Though her identity in the situation is in check, what reasoning can make a person say such a silly thing then disappear?

Do men in her life have a sick enjoyment in rallying her affections then promptly throwing them to the dust? It’s a pattern that’s becoming her best friend and, honestly, she doesn’t want any of it.

Yet even in her frustrations, her heart still wants to know him. She believes it’s a misunderstanding— soft strings plucking in the night air and gentle male undertones are difficult for her mind, and even her body, to forget. So she’s determined to make everything straight.

She’s not a princess locked in her tower in the 12th century, she’s a warrior princess of the 21st century, free to do as she will; and if this situation isn’t straight by the weekend, she’s giving up entirely. Even if he kneels at her door, with roses and tears rolling down his cheeks from anguished love, she will direct him to the nearest trash bin.

Alya calls for their morning meet up, and Marinette almost topples a lamp when she realizes she never told Alya about the entirety of last week. She didn’t think to call Alya at all about the Chat ordeal, or even the dramatics with Chloe and Adrien. Its probably because Alya would consider it an op-ed piece for the modern romantic and would, also, give the worst advice.

Chat Noir proclaims his adoration? Bang him immediately.

Chloe insults her and her best friend in a single breathe? Bang down her door, with doormen in tow, and throw her to the streets.

Adrien Agreste hides in her house? Bang him then get connections with the dad. Two-for-one sale!

Unsurprisingly, the latter sounds like she’s angling for Mr. Agreste, and if that isn’t a clear indication she’s known Alya too long, there’s no way she can tell her a thing.

Marinette is groaning like a troubled moped as she approaches the door to Alya’s newest cafe discovery. The front door is glass but a distinct darkness reflects through the window which stops Marinette to consider if it is still morning or that the store is closed.

However, the door pushes open when pressured and she finds the entire cafe is shadowed in dim light and too many black curtains. Marinette is certain she stumbled into the cafe for the undead, which is actually a fantastic cafe name when one considers morning patrons. Alya is sitting in a booth a few steps from the door and waves her down, her wonderful smile a strange contrast to the general bleakness.

Marinette sits across from her, the black leather seat reflects the light at the center of the table, and looks around at the blackboards, the scatter of high skinny tables with bolted chairs, and workers with piercings. The menu on the table displays pictures of all the drinks which are either complete black or ironic pink. Her mouth twitches when she considers anything eerie from her life is easily overshadowed by the terrible atmosphere here. A bit genius, actually.

“Marinette, your hair!” Alya exclaims, slapping the table. Marinette flushes, containing her glee, and tentatively touches the corner of the princess braid still safe on her head. She preserved it the best she could when she went to bed, adding all the bobby pins that didn’t exist before and wrapping it in a scarf, and was quite happy looking at it this morning. “Did you get it done at a salon? You never want to go!”

“Well, I—“

“I knew you’d look like a bombshell if you went to a professional.”

Marinette frowns. “I do fine on my own.”

Alya gives a here-or-there gesture with her hand flat, and looks dubious. “You have a poor, hot artist vibe. ‘I only have time for mascara and head buns because I can kite a man with my deep inner thoughts and button nose face’,” She teases then gestures to her own face. “Some of us have to watch youtube videos.”

Marinette pouts and plops her face onto her hand. “I don’t kite men.”

“Only hot people say that.”

A female employee walks up to their table for their order, which exempts Marinette’s response. After ordering, Alya begins gesturing excitedly about her weekend with Nino, where they went on a grand date to a concert and restaurants. It’s rare for them to go on dates because Nino travels with his job; or when he is home, he’s so tired from jet lag it’s just a lot of cuddling and extracurricular activities that Alya loves to describe in torturous detail. It’s hard to look Nino in the face sometimes.  

“Alright, alright, I’ve said enough,” Alya sighs like a lovelorn dove. ”I just love him too much, you know? Lets get back to your clearly interesting weekend.” She waggles her eyebrows which puts up Marinette’s hackles.

She picks up her drink that arrived during Alya’s anecdote, one of the ironically pink frappuccinos with chocolate skulls on the side, to cover the bottom half of her expression. She scrambles for anything of interest.

“I went running two mornings in a row,” she shrugs.

“Trying to look good for someone?” Marinette clenches her jaw, the plastic straw crushes underneath her teeth, and curses Alya. She was always good at steering a conversation.

“More like, trying to get rid of the extra pounds someone put on me the past several months,” she quips.

“Gurl, give me some credit. I know when you’re hiding something,” Alya smirks. She brings her drink to her mouth, it’s a latte— the darkest black Marinette has ever seen— and also decorated with a foam skull. Alya’s delight in the taste is reflected when she downs half of it within a second. “Did you finally make it to next base with Chat?”

“He hasn’t shown up since the day I got back,” Marinette admits, going with a partial truth.

“Oh,” Alya blinks several times. “That’s… surprising.”

What’s more surprising is Alya actually looks surprised. She holds her latte at bay, considering it in contemplative silence, then sips it with more patience than previously. Like she was holding something back. Marinette tilts her head. “You think?”

Alya blinks several times, again, and waves her off. “No, no, I was thinking…I just had a feeling he was a good guy.”

“You said he was probably a murderer,” Marinette intones.

“Obviously, I was joking.”

“And an adulterer.”

“We live in Paris, not Antartica.”

Marinette shakes her head, unsure of her friend’s sudden good faith. Though she has pushed Marinette towards Chat since she realized Marinette’s over the top admiration, at the same time she is supportive of keeping her in traditional and healthy matches. From her perspective, him giving up means he’s a tease, artificial, and possibly an actual adulterer. Definitely not a good base for boyfriend material.

Alya’s eyes twinkle suddenly, like a spark of inspiration, and she waves her empty cup towards Marinette. “How about this: Nino and I are going to a Karaoke Bar next Friday. You should come with us! Nino’s bringing an old friend, and I hate third wheeling the friend dates,” Alya says.

“Karaoke?” Marinette asks.

“You sing for a stranger but not your best friend? I’m shook,” She says with the utmost seriousness. “You need to get this guy right out of your head. Embarrassing yourself is the best option.”

Marinette groans into a smile, imagining said embarrassment. “Why must you torture me?”

“Because I’m all knowing and all powerful.”

Marinette cannot enact ‘operation warrior princess’ until Wednesday afternoon, when she catches sight of Manon at the front desk. If Marinette hopes to meet Chat Noir when he no longer shows up on to balcony, and she had checked every night, then she has to ask the central hub of communication.

“Manon?” Marinette asks. Manon hums, an arm leaning on the desk and supporting her head as she reads a novel. The cover is tilted low and Manon looks about as interested as a fox to an ant. Required class reading, then. “Do you happen to know what happened to that—um, singer? The one that use to come out every night?”

Manon hums, again, flatly, looking like she was stuck in the void of reading the last line of her page and the battle has worn her a reading speed of 20 words per minute. Marinette wonders if she should come back later, but Manon would probably be done for the day, and Marinette made a promise to herself.

“Did he ever find that girl? The one Plagg pointed out?”

Manon snaps the book shut, like an electric wire hits her, and stares aghast as Marinette. “Plagg. Oh my goodness, don’t get me started on Plagg, that dolt!”

Marinette straightens out, happy something caught the girl’s interest, and asks, “What happened?”

“Okay, I can’t tell you all the details, because Plagg said the guy is afraid girls will flock his door. Which I don’t blame him. They would if they knew the whole package.” Marinette’s mind latches onto the information, wondering if she fell for a Mr. Darcy after all. “But I do need to rant a bit.” She pauses and looks over Marinette. “I love your hair.”

Marinette is use to the compliments, dragging out the remains of the hairstyle to its last. It wont survive the night, the frays becoming less stylish and her hair needs to be washed soon, which definitely disappoints her. “Thank you. And I won’t tell anyone. Not even, Alya.”

“Please, tell Alya. Actually bring her along so I can rant to her as well, and maybe we can solve this dramatic liaison in a single afternoon,” Manon sighs.

Marinette tends to forget Manon and Alya are as tight as twine whenever they’re in the same room. They have the same interest for drama and mystery and just about the same amount of cynical humor.

“So, Plagg, he’s an idiot,” Manon starts. “He’s an idiot because he got the wrong door number, and now our dear singer is ensnared in the claws of a she-devil.”

Marinette’s mind buzzes at the words. Chat is still looking for her. He wasn’t chased away, he was sent down the wrong path! “So he knows its the wrong girl?”

“Yes! But he’s with the she-devil’s out of guilt for leading her on for a day. A DAY. That girl would guilt him for the rest of her life just to keep him ensnared. Plagg is a penchant for bad luck. So, now, what’s happening?” Manon leans on her forearm and waves grandly to herself. “Plagg comes crawling to me to solve the case. Which is a pain because I couldn’t even figure out our male without him telling me, how am I supposed to find the leading lady?”

“So, you don’t have any clues?” Marinette asks.

Manon looks physically pained. “Im dried up.”

This is so much information, fantastic information, that Marinette doesn’t want to wait. She can straighten this out right now— just tell Manon and she can point her to Chat. Perhaps Alya’s gut really did mean something. “I might, actually, know something to help?”

Manon perks up, eyes wide, and leans over the counter to grip Marinette’s arms. “You’ve been holding out on me Dupain-Cheng? Who gave you the goods? What do you know?”

Marinette raises her hand in defense. “Before I say anything, you’re my friend, right?”

Manon pulls back and huffs. “Of course! I would cover murder for you.”

“Manon.”

“Including my murder. Full coverage.”

“Okay, fine.” Marinette takes a breath “The girl who sings with him—“ a bustle of people returning from work, enter the front doors and Marinette’s nerves flusters her words. “—I, I happen to know her. And she’s looking for Ch-that guy, too.”

For some reason, even if she trusts Manon, before the cat is caught, she doesn’t want this soap opera even remotely broadcasted to the building. She remembers the doormen teasing her about too much takeout, what would they say about her love life at this stage? Barry has a boyfriend now, and she could not take his pity stares again.

“You knew? This whole time?” Manon stresses. “No wonder you were so excited that day! You went to tell her!”

Marinette breathes relief. “Something like that. Look, she’s trying to talk to him. If you can give me his door number, this whole debacle can be cleared up.”

Manon bites the inside of her lip. “I don’t know, Plagg sort of told me in confidence. Even if it is her, which I’m not doubting you—“

Marinette recognizes a sinking ship when she sees one and changes tactics. She grabs Manon’s hand between two and hers and leans across the desk. “Manon. This is true love at stake. This could be the greatest story to ever come out of these apartments and you are at the center of it.”

“That’s a little—“

“You always complain that romances in this city are too dramatic. Maybe it’s because the wrong people keep tearing them apart. Romeo and Juliet. Westley and Buttercup.”

“Clarke and Lexa.” Manon’s eyes are wide and inspired, and Marinette is rejoicing. “You’re right, if I leave it to Plagg, he’ll screw it up again. The girls need to take action now.”

Manon takes a post it note from the desk drawer and scribbles on it before folding it up and sliding it across the counter.

“Thank you, Manon,” Marinette sighs, clenching the paper in her fist. Manon sends soft punch to her arm in return.

“I better hear all about it the next time I’m on shift.”

Then the next three seconds is a whirlwind. Marinette is smiling and turning towards the elevators when a heavy obstacle hits her mid step and she’s careening forward. Since the paper is in her fist, she attempts to use one hand to balance check, but another person is already mid motion to catch her, so her body is going the wrong way. In result, there is turning, tangling and crashing to the ground.

“What are you doing, Bruce?” Manon yelps.

A soft grunt responds along with a jiggling motion under Marinette’s head. She’s rising on fours from the ground and her face is right next to a well pressed pant leg. Bruce, the least clumsy and least likely to cause an accident in the entire building, is on his rear next to her.

“You really do work in the shadows, don’t you?” She jokes, though a bit dizzy from the sudden fall. A weird imbalance is causing her head to tilt and she looks to the left and the princess braid is no more, dangling in a single long braid with locks falling out. She wouldn’t be surprised if some bobby pins were scattered on the ground next to her.

Bruce smiles, an eerie and strange sight for those who know him. “My mistake,” he says. Manon walks around the desk to help Marinette up, in which she smiles gratefully.

“Wow, what happened here?”

Plagg is in casual attire, a black bomber jacket, a t-shirt, and jeans, and standing right next to Manon. Marinette glances below her and notices a few suitcases scattered on the ground next to a golden cart. They must have fallen, though how she didn’t hear them is amazing.

“I didn’t know you worked tonight,” Manon glares, probably still riled up from their conversation.

“Barry needed the night off,” he shrugs. He shuffles closer to Bruce, dragging his black converse across the ground, then offers out a hand. Manon accepts the explanation, her shoulders unwinding, but her eyes are still narrowed at Plagg.

Marinette takes her cue to leave and looks down at her right hand, now empty. She grumbles then whispers to Manon, “I think I dropped the paper.”

Manon looks towards her then at the ground, which is usually spotless so finding a pink post-it should be a breeze, but there are too many the suitcases. Manon looks towards Plagg, probably not wanting him to see her, before turning towards the desk, but Bruce taps her shoulder first. Manon turns with her brows raised.

“You’re almost off your shift. Do you mind sending up some boxes to Madame Bustier? Now, if you please.”

“Ah-um,” Manon glances at Marinette and sends an apologetic smile. “Right on it.”

Marinette clamps her lips to a thin line and curses her luck. She looks at the suitcases and leans down to help pick them up, hoping to find the paper, but Plagg shuffles in front of her. “I have this. Do you need anything else today?”

Marinette sighs, knowing it looks awkward to stay and watch him clean up. “No, thank you. I happened to drop a piece of paper. If you find it, can you send it up to my room?”

“Yes, Miss,” Plagg grins and stands there. She looks around awkwardly and nods in return and walks to the elevator. She looks back and Plagg is still standing there with a smile, not cleaning up yet. Marinette narrows her eyes at him before the door dings and is forced to enter.

He’s still smiling, stock still, until the doors close.

She remembers thinking that Plagg must be close friends with Adrien. Considering how strange he is, she wouldn’t be surprised.

[nuttmegg]

This is Jeremy, This is also me feeling it. I promised my friends that I wouldn’t hold it in, I wouldn’t pretend i wasn’t hurting and that I would let my heart feel it. So this is me, trying to feel it. The way I do that is through writing. I guess right now is the perfect time too, I’m vulnerable. My friends who know me, know that “feelings” aren’t my strong suit. It’s currently 3am and Im just getting home. I went out for a drink with friends and instead of going straight home I drove to my grandpa’s ranch(he doesn’t own it anymore so technically I was trespassing). I sat on the hood of the car and just watched the stars and I cried my fucking eyes out. Not just for Jeremy but for literally everything that is overwhelming me. But more about that later in another post. 

So I met Jeremy on tinder, Go figure right?! I honestly found him so extremely handsome, and thought I was being catfished so I put off meeting him for probably a whole month, lol. When I did finally decide to meet up with him, it was spur of the moment too. I was about to start my fantasy football draft, but something told me to go. So I told my cousins I was auto-drafting because date was greater then draft, haha. I meet him at the beach and we walked and talked for a good two/three hours, the sun went down on us and he kissed me on the beach. I was a good first date, we had a lot in common, football, sarcasm, etc, He even helped me finish my fantasy draft, and then got mad at my for avoiding him for so long. He told me how he was desperately looking for another person in his league and I would have been a perfect addition. “A cute girl, who can talk shit and knows football, you would’ve been perfect.” So after that football was our thing, we made a couple bets on the season and swore we would hang out once a week to set lineups, watch football or just talk shit on each others teams. And we did, maybe not every week, but we did manage to talk FF lineups and strategy every week.

We hung out a couple times in public but he was always so worried about his ex seeing him that it just complicated. I think I always kept him at a distance because I knew he wasn’t over her, and I didn’t want to be anyones rebound. I already told the story about how he ran around my apartment pretending he was getting ready for a fight, that night I watched Superbad with him, it was the first time I ever watched that movie. He gave me so much shit for it too. After that, any time he wanted to hang out he would text me “super bad and chill?” It was a joke between us, because i would sent it to him on occasion, I pretty sure we both knew what we were to each other. But we’re people with feelings as much as we tried to hide them, every time we would hang out he would stay longer, he would talk more, or when I would get up to leave he’d pull me back to him or tell me to spend the night. I only did once, that night I woke up to him wrapped around me. Mind you, he was 6′3″ and I’m 5′2″ he was literally suffocating me lol. I remember trying to be so quiet about leaving but I woke him up anyway, he told me as i was leaving “Stay with me kid, just once, don’t go to school.”  I think that was the same night he asked me if i loved him. I think that was when I started pulling away from him too. I begin seeing him less and less. That obviously didn’t stop him from bugging me constantly to hang out.(as per the snaps above) 

I got a text or snap from him pretty much every day. Even when I was in Vegas he bugged me. Thats the “you’re in love with me” snap. I remember being super drunk and responding with “you wish,” and he wrote back in a text saying “just you wait kid, you’re gonna fall in love with me.” I didn’t write back to that. I remember why too. I think after Vegas I saw him once, we went out for coffee and he told me how his ex was spreading rumors about him again. He talked to me about how he didn’t know where he wanted to move to but he wanted to leave, he even joked about following me to LA when I leave in December…”I’ll be your roommate kid, It’ll be great” ha. He seemed so lost that time I saw him, lost and heart broken. I didn’t know what to do, when we left I remember his hug hurt. It was one of those vulnerable hugs that last a long time and you can just feel it. That was the last time I kissed him. 

A couple days later The Hipster asked me to be exclusive, oh have i not mentioned that yet? The Hipster and I are exclusive! The last time I saw Jeremy was the day I was suppose to go to the Halsey concert. I didn’t go because I had been studying for exam and was on like 3 hrs of sleep, so I didn’t want to  to drive to Oakland by myself(its a 5-ish-hour drive). I walked with my lab partner to his house to hang out for a bit. I knocked out in his room, while my lab partner and him hung out. I woke up to Jeremy and Prince(his dog) making a bunch of noise. He was so sweet, “you knocked out kid! want dinner?” We ate dinner and I told him about the Hipster. He looked a little sad but sat across the table from me and asked me questions about him. He was teased me a little, tried joking about still “hanging out” even used air quotes too. Then took it back and said, “Nah Kid if you’re happy I wont fuck it up.” That was night I took my friends dog for a run, because he(my friend) was in a study group and Duke(the dog) was being an ass. lol. After my run I asked Jeremy if he could give me a ride home cause I was beat and my friend was still in class. 

He pulled his TC to the back of my apartment complex and when I was about to get out of the car he pulled me back in and hugged me. Again it was one of those hugs that you feel, like your soul hurts. He kissed my cheek and said “stick around kid? I want you to be happy, but we get along. Lets stay friends yeah?” I looked him straight in the eyes(something told to look him straight in the eyes), i didn’t realize then that was the last time i was going to see his green eyes and said “promise, promise.” I meant it too, I would’ve stayed his friend, we had even talked about being gym buddies. 

The next night I slept at the Hipsters and I woke up at like 2am from a text from Jeremy saying “wake up!” I didn’t respond cause I was with The Hipster and it was 2am! Not going to lie I was a little annoyed with him, I honestly thought i was a booty text. The next day in class I wrote back to him telling him that no one is up that late, he told me i should have been. I asked him what was up and he said he couldn’t sleep and just wanted someone to talk to. Then he asked me if I wanted to go on a hike………..I couldn’t I was in class. 

That was the day he…oh fuck I cant even type it….that was the day. He fucking went hiking and slipped off a 60ft cliff, survived the fall only to get swept away by the god damn ocean. They still haven’t found his body. Fuck this I am mess……if this is what feeling it is suppose to be. I don’t want to feel it. I could have been there!! Everyone keeps telling me that I cant blame myself, and I don’t but what if!! Im afraid of heights, i wouldn’t have let him climb up there, I wouldn’t have let him get so close to the edge. I could’ve convinced him to go to a different beach. And people keep throwing the word suicide around still, that he did it on purpose. What if me telling him about The Hipster was the straw that did it. I knew he was lost, I could tell, but I just thought he was lost becasue he was still a little heartbroken. 

And you what kills me even more! The fucking guilt I feel for grieving! Like you have no idea how stupid happy the Hipster makes me! I care about him so much, way more then I ever thought I was going to. I’ve been away from him for 5 days now and it hurts because I just want to be around him! I want to lay next to him, I want to study while he draws. I want to hold him and just breath in the mixture of smells, smoke and coffee. But how?? How am I suppose to grieve over another lover when, for lack of a better word, my boyfriend is laying next to me?? Some one please explain to me how I’m not suppose to feel guilty about that!!!!! Like Jeremy and I were never going to be a thing, The Hipster was always going to be the better man for me, but I still cared about Jeremy. He was right when he said we got along, we did. I just don’t know how to grieve without feeling so guilty. I don’t want to hurt the Hipster with my grief. Jeremy was someone I talked to almost daily, theres a void there now. That void hurts. 

I know its going to hurt for a while, but since Im home Im gonna let it hurt me. Because Night Hawk was right, I don’t want to hold it in and then have it come crashing down on me during finals. The one thing I keep wishing for is, I hope they find him. I have this spiritual connection with the Ocean, and I just cant feel the same way about it when it still has him. Just give him up, his family needs him. Everyone keeps telling me that I shouldn’t feel guilty about grieving with The Hipster around, that Jeremy would’ve wanted me to be happy. I know this, he told me himself the last time I saw him. I think the only person who can ease my guilt is The Hipster, and I’m never gonna tell him so I just let time heal that wound too. 

Oh so the pictures, the first one is a cropped picture of him after practice or something. Its one of the first pictures he sent me.  The second one is this one I found on his FB, and I think its perfect, it shows his silly nature. The 3rd is another one he sent me when we first started talking(he sent me a bunch but the rest are not really appropriate so those stay off the interwebs, not gonna lie I’m probably gonna delete them) Its also his contact photo lol. The last one is of course the save msg on snap. The 1st msg is him being hella aggressive becasue I kept turning him down. I have pictures of the rest of the things he sent me, he was actually being funny about it, said he would develop a stutter if i kept avoiding him lol. I already told you the “youre in love with me” story. And the last one had me rolling laughing when he sent that to me!! He had sent me a picture of him totally scene kid from HS right after that. I couldnt help but laugh. Thats the kind of friendship we would’ve had, more nonsense of that sort. 

So This is my story about Jeremy. This is also my way of grieving. 

This was Jeremy