#can’t remember if i posted this or not. oh well

[ms-fandomgirl]

BBHG: Okayu (Ch. 6)

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Words: 3,581

Summary: A chance encounter in the Shibuya Train Station leaves you with a sore shoulder and a mysterious bento box. You’re willing to write the incident off and move on, otherwise preoccupied with navigating a new city and a new job, but a bombastic blond, meddling friend, and fate itself seem to have other plans.

Genre: Pro Hero AU, fluff, strangers to lovers, medical setting

Links: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist | Cross-posted on Ao3!

Warning: Sickness (not life threatening)

Okayu - A simple Japanese rice porridge made of only water and rice. Known as a healing food, it is a staple to serve when someone is sick as the mild porridge is both easy on the stomach and supposed to restore energy.

Previously…

“Did I die and go to heaven? Because you look like an angel.”

The voice was weak, barely a whisper, but it sent a shock through the room nonetheless. It wasn’t Bakugou who had said that terrible pickup line, and it certainly wasn’t yourself.

You pivoted on your heel so quickly that you almost fell over, gripping the side of the bed for stability. Bakugou was just as fast, appearing at the bedside in an instant. You peered down with your mouth slightly open in awe, and electrifying yellow eyes stared right back at you.

Pro-Hero Chargebolt was awake.

He grinned up at you despite his weak state, relentless and seemingly oblivious as to why you had yet to say a word. His eyes darted over to Bakugou, and his smile broadened as he directed his next words toward the stricken blond. 

“You look a little pale right now, Bakubro. Maybe you need some vitamin me in your life to feel better.”

Bakugou spluttered in indignation, opening his mouth to no doubt berate his friend, but another voice beat him to it.

“I can’t believe the first thing I hear after waking up in this hospital is your cringe pickup lines, bro.”

You snapped your head over toward the other side of the room, eyes widening as you took in a groggy Red Riot crossing his arms in his bed.

“Kirishima!” Bakugou cried, immediately making his way over to him.

“Oh, so he gets a ‘Kirishima’ but I don’t even get a response to my amazing opener? What am I, chopped liver?” Chargebolt grumbled.

Without missing a beat, Bakogou responded. “Yes.”  

“Rude, bro. So rude.” He turned to you then, lowering his voice as though he was confiding in an old friend.  “If I’d known this is the welcome I’d get, I might as well pass out again.”

You reached out to touch his forehead on instinct, glancing at the monitor beside him as you did so. “You don’t actually feel like you are going to, do you?”

He chucked at your reaction, slightly shaking his head before wincing. “Well, I feel like I got slammed into a building, but other than that I’m just peachy. I don’t really remember how I got here though. Could you help me out, beautiful?”

You nodded over to Red Riot, catching his eye before beginning your explanation. As he turned your way, you subtly reached toward the pager clipped into your pants, pressing the button on the side of it before focusing your attention on the boys once again.

“Both of you were attacked during a public hero parade about two weeks ago by a villain, now dubbed ‘Basilisk’ by the media. His quirk allows him to inject unknown toxins within his victims which, at the very least, cause the body to shut down into a coma. However, more recent attacks have caused more severe symptoms, such as seizures and vomiting.”

The two heroes stared at you in shock, not quite believing the news you dropped on them. They briefly glanced at Bakugou, who agreed with your summary. It was then that the weight of the situation fully sunk in, and the room was left in a heavy silence. In fact, it was so silent that you easily heard the patter of footsteps rapidly echoing down the hallway. The door burst open, revealing a flustered Dr. Hiyashi.

“What’s wrong?” he gasped. Four pairs of eyes stared back at him.  

“Ah.” He straightened his coat, donning a professional demeanor before slowly walking into the room. “Pro Heroes Red Riot and Chargebolt, let me first offer you my sincerest relief that you are awake.”

Red Riot and Chargebolt accepted his statement graciously, although you noticed Chargebolt suppressing a chuckle at the doctor’s dramatic entrance.

“How are your memories? Do you know how you got here?” he asked.

Chargebolt answered first.

“Nurse-” he paused for a second, eyes filled with guilt as he realized he had no clue what your name was. You laughed it off, softly telling it to him so he could continue once he repeated it. “-filled us in on the situation. I can’t really remember much of the parade or how I got injected unfortunately, but I remember everything leading up to it.”

“Good, good.” He turned to you then, addressing you directly. “I contacted Hina to let her know of this new development. She should be here shortly, but-”

He paused his sentence to look at you, really look at you, and you felt like an organism squirming under a microscope. You straightened your spine, but you knew for a fact that you hadn’t fixed your hair since the park, and you belatedly wondered if your face was still puffy from your breakdown earlier.

“You’ve had a big day. I think you should go home for the afternoon.” His voice was gentle, taking on almost a paternal tone. You would have been mildly offended if you weren’t so exhausted.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make things more difficult-” you began, but a gruff voice interrupted your weak protest.

“You should go. You look dead on your feet.”

You glared at Bakugou, but his gaze remained firm as he stared you down. Sensing that this was a fight you wouldn’t win, you looked away, shrugging your shoulders lightly. You had to admit, now that the adrenaline of Chargebolt’s awakening had worn off, you were left feeling even more tired than before. As Bakugou’s friends began to heckle him about his rough words, you turned to Dr. Hiyashi, thanking him for the opportunity.

You were just wondering how you could quietly leave when Hina, your savior once again, walked through the door with an anxious Suneater behind her. Taking the opportunity, you managed to slip behind them as Dr. Hiyashi filled her in on the situation. You tried to be relatively sneaky in the transition, but if you had turned around, you would have noticed a pair of ruby eyes trailing you until you shut the door behind you.

When you finally made it home, you were barely able to change out of your work clothes before collapsing onto your bed. The beginnings of a headache pressed against your forehead, and even the diffused light of your room felt too bright for your eyes. Certain that a nap would fix your problems, you easily drifted to sleep.

However, when you woke up at dusk, the weariness hadn’t gone away.

In fact, everything had gotten worse. Your favorite soft blanket was shoved to the far side of the bed, its presence creating a constrictive furnace with the heat radiating off of your body despite the chills running up and down your arms. The small headache had turned painful, your skull feeling like it was being split in two as you curled up into a miserable ball on your bed. You knew you needed to go to the bathroom to break out your ibuprofen, take your temperature, and grab a cold rag, but the thought of moving made you shudder, the task insurmountable.

Instead, you pulled out your phone, first texting Hina about your situation and then Shiozaki. The action was small, but it had cost you a large amount of energy. You let your phone slip out of your grasp as you collapsed back onto the bed, hearing the small chime of a new notification but not bothering to respond. You had begun drifting off into a slight doze when a sudden noise startled you awake.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Your eyes shot to your door, but your body refused to move even an inch. You let out a unintelligible groan in form of greeting, and the person seemed satisfied at your response. A slight shuffling could be hold, and the clink of something ceramic against hardwood, and then silence once again descended around you.

Somehow, you eventually found it within yourself to shuffle over to the door, carefully opening it to reveal your offering: a packet of rice crackers, a bottle of water, a thermometer, and a bottle of ibuprofen. Meager fare, but you were extremely grateful for anything that would save you an extra trip outside of your room.

Returning to the comfort of your bed, you went for the thermometer first, sticking it into your mouth quickly to read out the inevitable results. While it loaded, you fished out your phone to send a quick text of thanks to Shiozaki. At this point, you knew she would be out of the apartment and checked into a hotel, so this would be your last contact with her before the message proclaiming you better. She had a fear about getting sick, which you had learned very quickly upon getting the flu after moving in. You were just thankful she had been willing to help you before fleeing.

The electric beep of the thermometer pulled you from your thoughts, and you grimaced as you read 101.2 degrees Fahrenheit. Expected, but definitely not good. You turned your attention toward the ibuprofen next, popping two in your mouth quickly followed by a large gulp of water. After all but inhaling the crackers, you settled down once again, content to stare at the ceiling as you let your drowsiness overtake you, this time hopefully to carry you through the night.

The good news was that you slept through the night, morning, and well into the afternoon. The bad news was that your whole body felt sore, and you thought you might be dying soon, if not from illness then from the commotion outside your door. The voices were indistinguishable through the walls of your apartment, but they were increasing in volume and based on the intermittent bangs on your front door, you were pretty sure they were aimed at you.

Fumbling around in your nest of blankets, you grabbed your phone as quickly as you could before slipping down to the floor and crawling your way into the closet. Sure, you were on the twelfth floor, but people could fly these days, and in your fever-addled brain, this seemed like the smartest option. Swiping your phone open, you immediately began dialing the police, only to pause before clicking the call button. What if you were blowing things out of proportion? What if you were hallucinating? But you still wanted someone to check on you; someone who would be able to take a fight if necessary too. You clicked out of the keypad, thumb scrolling through your contacts until it landed on your person of choice.

The phone only rang once before he picked up.

“It’s about damn time you answered your phone,” Bakugou snapped.

“Bakugou, you’ve got to help me,” you whispered, ignoring his greeting. “There’s someone banging on my apartment door and I think they’re out to get me.”

“Huh?” Bakugou exclaimed, sounding genuinely taken aback. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“There’s someone trying to Break. Into. My. Apartment.”

“What-no there’s not!”

You groaned in frustration. “And how would you know that? I know what I’m hearing!”

“And I know what I’m seeing!” he argued. “The only people in this hallway are me and an old lady in a bathrobe.” 

“How dare you have the gall-” a shrill voice cut through the speaker, and you froze. You knew that voice. It was your crabby neighbor, Mrs. Fukigen, who would bang on the wall if you even vacuumed too late in the day. And wait, did he just say that he was in the hallway? That statement, plus his strange greeting, finally helped you connect the dots. You quickly swiped over to your unread messages for confirmation, only to see fifteen unread notifications.

Oh no.

Ice ran through your veins, but for a completely different reason now than before. You no longer feared a home invasion, but you did fear whatever Mrs. Fukigen and Bakugou could get up to if they were left alone any longer. You didn’t know what types of hero codes of ethics Bakugou was bound to, but you could easily see a world where Bakugou would swing on an old lady, especially one like Mrs. Fukigen who even made you daydream of resorting to violence from time to time.

You shot to your feet in a panic, which proved to be a very big mistake as you stumbled into the wall. Nevertheless, you persisted, making your way to the door as quickly as you could. After all, the fate of your apartment complex depended on it.

Finally making it to the door, you wrenched it open, only to be greeted with the sight of Mrs. Fukigen’s bony finger pointed centimeters from Bakugou’s nose. At the sound, both parties stopped their fighting in order to gape at you. It was only then in the sudden silence that you realized how you must have looked: disheveled clothes, messy hair, and on death’s doorstep.

Immediately Mrs. Fukigen retracted as though she had been attacked, hands covering her mouth and nose as she backed away towards her door. All notions of arguing abandoned at your appearance.

“Stay back now,” she snapped at you, as though you were no longer her neighbor but some diseased final boss. “And open your windows, while you’re at it. I can’t afford to catch whatever illness you have through the vents.”

And with that closing statement, the door to her apartment slammed shut.

Now, only Bakugou remained, taking in your state wearily as you leaned against the door for support. However, unlike Mrs. Fukigen, he was a hero, not a coward. Instead of commenting on your appearance, as you were expecting him to do, he merely held up a large brown paper sack as a peace offering.

“Can I come in?”

You shrugged, stepping back into your apartment.

“At your own risk.”

He huffed out a laugh, crossing the threshold without hesitation. You should have asked him why he was here. Even better, you should have asked him how he knew where you lived. But just having that brief interaction at the doorway of your apartment had winded you, so you instead curled up into the corner of your couch, peering at him as he sauntered around your kitchen like he owned it.

“Bowls?” he asked, opening cabinets and drawers at random.

“Cabinet to the left of the stove,” you supplied.

He nodded in satisfaction as he continued whatever mission he had set his mind to. You reached behind you, wrapping yourself in the dark green woven throw on the back of the couch. The room filled with silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it felt surprisingly natural, Bakugou’s presence having blended naturally into the atmosphere of your home instead of invading it, as so many might assume. The low whir of the microwave provided a gentle white noise that had your head nodding, and it wasn’t until a gentle prod of your shoulder that you realized you had fallen asleep.

“Here, eat this.”

Bakugou’s manners were as lacking as ever, but the food on the tray he had thrust in front of you more than made up for it. Two steaming bowls paired with a mug of matcha made your previously uneasy stomach rumble in hunger. The larger bowl was filled with a golden miso soup, cubes of soft tofu and delicate pieces of torn seaweed floating in the broth to create a mouthwatering aroma. The other bowl held a simple okayu, although the slightly congealed state of the rice told you that it had been cooked to perfection.

Your arms shot out faster than you could think, only for Bakugou to quickly back away in response.

“Are you crazy? You’ll spill everything on yourself if you move like that,” he snapped.

You weren’t sure whether he was more concerned for you or the food, but he did have a good point regardless. You settled back into the couch, patting your lap for him to set the tray onto. He eyed you apprehensively, as though you were playing a trick on him, before carefully setting the tray on you. 

As expected, the food was absolutely delicious. You blamed your semi-delirious state for the moan that escaped your lips after your first bite. You sheepishly glanced at Bakugou who rolled his eyes at your display, although you swore his cheeks were slightly pink.

“Out of all of the food I cook you, this is your favorite?” he grumbled, although it wasn’t truly a complaint.

You cracked a small smile, eyes closing in satisfaction as you spooned down more of the okayu. “What can I say? I’m a simple woman.”

He scoffed in agreement. “Apparently so. I barge into your apartment in the middle of the day, and you don’t at least question it a little? A normal person with a brain would wonder how I got here.”

You shrugged, unaffected by his small jab. “I figured you probably got the address from Shiozaki, or maybe even Hina. Or through your super secret hero files.”

It seemed logical to you, but the stunned expression and slight part of his lips painted a clear picture of Bakugou’s shock.

“And you don’t care?”

“Why would I?” you questioned back. “At this point, I’d hope to have at least considered us friends. But the real question I want to know is why you’re here, not how.”

The words sat heavy in the room, so much so that you almost regretted saying them. Bakugou had kept the conversation lighthearted until now, and you felt like a fool for ruining it. Yet you were curious, and that curiosity only grew as you watched his response. His eyebrows drew close in concentration, and it took several times of his mouth opening and closing before words were eventually forced out. 

“It was my turn.”

You tilted your head, urging him to continue with a wave of your spoon.

“Today was my turn to make lunch, but when I showed up at the hospital, you weren’t there. I found your nurse buddy and she told me you were out, so I adjusted accordingly.”

You gave him an incredulous stare. “You hunt down my address, make me homemade miso soup and okayu, and brave Mrs. Fukigen all to stick to routine?”

He glared at you, and you playfully stuck your tongue out in response.

“And here I thought it was because you cared,” you joked.

But Bakugou didn’t laugh. Instead, he turned his face away and began mumbling out a string of half-hearted insults. Yet it was unmistakable now: the blush you thought you saw earlier now extended to the tips of his ears, growing in intensity as you couldn’t contain your giggles at the state of him. He lightly shoved your shoulder in an attempt to get you to stop, but it only made things worse. His petulance and pouty demeanor was the funniest thing you had ever seen in your state of sickness, and it wasn’t until you were gasping for air that you were finally able to settle down.

“You done?” he grumbled, although you could tell from the sparkle in his eye that he wasn’t truly angry at all.

You nodded, both in regard to your meal and your hysterics, shoving the tray in his general direction. He shook his head as he retrieved it, but he dutifully took your dishes to the sink. You stared unabashedly as he did so, marveling at the fact that Pro-Hero Dynamight was currently washing your dishes. It sounded so absurd, yet at the same time, it made complete sense. Maybe it was because you had only ever seen him as “good-smelling asshole” or Bakugou, but you much preferred this version of him to whatever was projected on the news channels.

The tap shut off with a soft click, and the room was once again blanketed in a soft silence that made your eyelids begin to droop. You hadn’t realized you had curled up onto the couch until your head rested on the arm rest, and you hadn’t realized your eyes had closed until a warm palm pressed against your forehead.

“Still got a bit of a fever,” Bakugou tsked.

“Feel better though,” you muttered in response, quickly fading like the rays of orange sunlight illuminating the apartment. “Thank you.”

You heard an affirmation, and then silence, before two strong arms wrapped around you, pulling both you and your blanket up into the air. Fully-conscious you might have screamed, both out of surprise or embarrassment, but semi-conscious was completely focused in on the warm that radiated from the chest you were gathered into. You were further pleased to note that the scent of warm caramel and expensive smelling cologne only strengthened as you burrowed deeper in your makeshift cocoon, resting your head on his chest. Just as you had settled in, the short trip was over, and you were being gingerly set on your bed.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, so you better open your door this time.”

Your eyes squinted open, taking in his broad silhouette in the doorway. A sleepy reply slipped from your lips before you could even think about it, quiet yet full of confidence that left no room for doubt.

“Always.”

A/N: I bet you thought I had given up! I'm sorry it's taken so long, but life got super busy, and I also took a breather from writing for a bit as I focused on other projects. However, what I said in the beginning still stands: I will finish this story. Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with me so far, and welcome to any new readers!

As always, reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated, but please do not repost here or on other platforms. However, fan arts, edits, or anything like that are beyond amazing and totally welcome! If you have a question about it, just ask me.

Tag List: @lavender99, @gold24fish, @bqkuho3, @satorulicious, @cringeycookies, @summrwalkr, @nyxmania, @poopoobuttsy, @st1rvoid, @kitzusune, @nindevorak, @stxrrielle, @cax-per, @kisskissshutmydoor, @kazuumii,  @nnubee, @neutralevilxx, @idk-sam, @berryvioo, @hoothootreiber, @sikuthealien, @boopjuice, @crazypersonrandom, @aecarstairs, @andysdrafts, @xenasolos, @dndmell,

If you would like to be added to the tag list, let me know in the comments! Also, if the tag list DIDN'T work, please let me know as well. I think I figured out the problem, but we'll see. Hyperlinks are not my specialty.

#ms fandomgirl writes #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katuski #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bbhg #bakugou fanfiction

[spaceorphan18]

X-Men Fic (Rogue/Gambit) : Toys

A/N: Yes, this was inspired by that clip that's been going around of Gambit's VA for XM97 playing with action figures. I cannot believe this is what I'm writing for my first real fic for this fandom. Dear lord, forgive me for the shenanigans... also, unbeta'd. I just wanted to get it out into the world and be done with it.

I'll post this tomorrow on Ao3

Rated: T for suggestiveness

Summary: Rogue catches Remy playing with toy action figures of the X-Men. Shenanigans. Set in the 616 comic verse, but some fun meta-y references to XM97

****

Toys

Upon arriving home, Rogue comes in through the open kitchen window because why bother with stairs when you can fly? It’s been a long day, a long week, a long life… All she wants to do is curl up on the couch with the cats and a trashy book and hopefully Remy’s home so she can get a back massage.  Hell, forget the book, she’ll gamble for the massage first.  Save the trashy for later.  

She grins, thinking about her husband’s warm hands on skin.  

Remy is, indeed, home; standing at the kitchen island, his back turned towards the window, so engrossed in what he’s doing that he doesn’t hear her come in.  And what he’s doing takes her by surprise.  

The kitchen counter is covered in half open boxes, plastic containers, cardboard, and little zip ties.  There are a good, half-dozen or so action figures all lined up in a semicircle; each one of them a well detailed, classically designed replica of, well… the X-Men.  Oh, dear god, what did she walk into? 

“I’ll take ya down in one slice, bub,” Remy says, holding the Wolverine figurine in one hand, his voice low as he attempts Logan’s gruff voice.  Remy LeBeau is good at a lot of things, Rogue would be first to give you a list, but doing impressions is not one of them.  She bites her lip, fascinated to see how this plays out.  Remy grabs the Magento figurine as his voice shifts to imitate Erik.  “You incels!” Remy screams; loud, exaggerated, and carefully enunciated.  “How dare you try to take down me; the questionably dressed, ego too big for my helmet, Master of Magnetism?” 

Rogue puts a hand up to her lips, holding back an amused snort.  Oh, Remy… 

Remy loses the impression as he lunges the Wolverine figurine at the Magneto one.  The Magneto one floats away.  “You fools! Don’ you remember I control the metal?”  Shaking the Wolverine figurine violently, Remy lets out a feral scream and the figure is flung to the side, landing with a clatter in the sink.  

Magneto is discarded for a moment as Remy picks up the Scott and Jean figurines.  Scott has his hand to his visor while Jean has both her hands on the sides of her head.  “Jean! I seem to have made a tactical error,” Remy cries in Scott’s no-nonsense voice.  His voice then slides higher as he mimics Jean.  “Scott, my telepathy.  It out o’ whack!  Oh, Scott!... Jean!… SCOTT!.... JEAN!!”

Rogue is dying inside.  She holds herself tightly, trying as hard as she can not to burst out laughing.  

Scott and Jean are shuffled into one hand as Remy picks up the Magneto figurine again.  “Enough of this!” Remy says, back in the Magneto voice.  He then lets out another dramatic scream as he tosses the Scott and Jean figurines onto the pile of boxes, scaring Oliver, who had been inspecting one of the twist ties.  

He picks up the Storm figurine next, raising her arms to the ceiling.  “An’ now you deal with Stormy, who will smite you with her lightning blasts.” He jolts the Storm hands into Magneto, making little sound effect lightning blasts as he does so.  “Fool, I am impervious to lightning…  How dat possible? Lightning an’ magnetism are not the same thing!... I can control static electricity!... Dat…still don’ make any sense!... Begone, weather witch!”  

Rogue has tears in her eyes. She’s biting her lip so hard, it’s beginning to hurt.  Thankfully, Remy is so lost in his make believe world that he can’t hear her snickering.  

The Storm figurine is placed gently face down on the counter as Remy picks up the Gambit figurine.  Rogue’s eyes grow wide, intensely waiting to see how this will play out… 

“Ohh, you goin’ down now, mon ami,” Remy’s voice grows low and serious.  He starts making explosion sound effects, as if the Gambit figurine is throwing little playing cards at the Magneto one.  Remy then throws his head back in a villainous laugh as he goes back to the Magneto voice.  “You seriously think a few mild explosions could ever touch me?”  

Remy stops, and grins that cocky, beautiful grin of his.  “Non, but it enough to keep you distracted.”  He starts turning the Magneto figurine around, as if it’s confused.  “See, I always gotta ace up my sleeve.”  

In a quick second, he drops the Gambit figurine, and grabs the Rogue one.  Her arm is out, one leg up, poised to fly.  Remy slams the fist of the Rogue figurine into the Magneto one’s head.  “Howdy, sugah.” 

Rogue tilts her head, amused.  Remy’s imitation of her own voice is so comically off, and yet incredibly endearing.  

“How ‘bout you leave my family alone!” The Rogue figurine crashes into the Magneto one again.  This time, Remy charges the Magneto figurine, causing it to glow purple.  He tosses the charged Magneto figurine up, letting it explode in mid-air with a bang.  The charred remains drop to the counter with a clang before it bounces into the trash next to the counter.  

Remy then picks up the Gambit figurine and brings it in close to the Rogue one.  “Anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are when you’re punching people, chere?...Why don’t you shut up and kiss me, Remy…” Remy starts clicking the faces of the two figurines together, making little kiss-y noises and ‘mwa’ sounds as the action figures ‘make out’.  

Rogue grins wildly, expecting nothing less.  She crosses her arms across her chest, casually walking forward to let her presence be known. “Whatcha doing, sugah?” 

Remy gives a startled jump, the figurines dropping out of his hand with a clatter.  He’s not the least bit sorry he’s been caught, however, a devilish grin quickly sliding onto his lips.  “Jus’ havin’ a bit of fun testing some of these toys that show sent us.”  Rogue picks the destroyed Magneto figurine out of the trash.  “Some of dem defective,” he says slyly. 

“Defective huh?” She drops the figurine unceremoniously back into the trash and comes in close, wrapping her arms around his neck.  She knows the show is a sore spot, no matter how much free merch they’ve gotten from it lately.   “You still salty about all that?”

He lets out a grumble, but still wraps himself around her, just the way she likes.  “Don’ act like you wouldn’t be, too, if they killed you off like dat.   Middle of the first season, too.  What’d I do to deserve dat?” 

“They just knew you were the best one.” She runs her fingers through his hair.  “Who else gonna go out in a fiery blaze of heroism like that?” 

He smirks, though she can still see a hint of sadness in his eyes.  “It was pretty epic, non?” 

“The best…”  She draws him in for a kiss, sweet and gentle and comforting.  “Forget that show, Remy.  That ain’t our life.  This is.” She kisses him again, a little bit harder, grounding herself in his embrace.  He had tortured himself wanting to keep watching that show, but she couldn’t.  She wouldn’t.  She didn’t want to imagine herself going down a path she would never recover from.  “Besides…” she says, trying to keep it light.  “I’m sure season two will have me pulling your pretty ass back from the dead one way or the other.  And if it doesn’t, you best bet I’ll get those writers fired and write it myself.”  

“I ever tell you how sexy you are when pulling me back from the dead?” 

“Shut up and kiss me, Remy.”  He does and they do.  Forget the massage tonight, they’re going straight to the trashy.  She’s hungry to feel him everywhere tonight.  

They break apart once again, breathing heavily as Rogue leans her forehead against his.  “Hey, Remy?” 

“Oui?” 

“Why don’t we leave this mess for later and go play with some of the toys we’ve already got.”

He laughs into another kiss.  “You always have de best ideas, chere…” 

****

Later… 

In the stillness of the night, long after Remy’s fallen asleep, Rogue gets up for a glass of water.  

The kitchen is how they left it hours ago, a mess of trash and action figures scattered around the room.  The cats had gotten into some of it.  Poor Scott had fallen to the ground.  She picks him up, placing him next to Jean, giving him a little pat as she does so.  

She wants to ignore the others.  Wants to ignore the strange sensation it is to have your likeness in toy form.  Still, she’s drawn to the little action figure her. She picks it up, inspecting it.  It’s her old green and yellow uniform, one she hasn’t worn in years. She doesn’t even know where it is, probably having been trashed in some long ago fight.  Unsurprisingly, the boobs are a little too big, the waist a little too small, and the hair a bit ridiculous.  But it’s oddly still her.  A little version her.  

She looks down to the Gambit figurine and smiles.  The trench coat, the staff, the ridiculously abbed pink breast plate.  The cocky little grin.  They got his likeness perfectly.  And yet it doesn’t even hold a candle to the real thing.  

“Love ya, Remy,” she says softly, as she takes the Rogue figurine and gives the Gambit figurine a kiss with it.  She laughs at her own silliness, but still takes a moment to place the figurines together, resting against each other, as they should be.  

She grabs her water and turns off the light and heads back to the bedroom, where she’ll soon curl up against her husband and fall asleep.  

#xmen #x men 97 #(sorta) #rogue #gambit #romy #anna marie lebeau #remy lebeau #roguegambit #romy fic #xmen fic #idk what else to tag it #s.o. writes things #good lord it's late #maybe that's a good thing #i'll just put this out in the world and maybe one of you will find it humorous #please let me keep playing with the toys - i'm still learning

[rosie-b]

True Blue

Chapter 12: In which Nathalie is the MVP

I'm finally back!!! It feels like it's been forever since the last chapter. This past semester was really busy for me, so I'm glad that I could finally post a new update! You can read it on AO3 or below!

Pinning the brooch back on felt like a chore. 

The poison hadn’t spread far enough that it was physically difficult for Marinette to do, but after that akuma, she barely felt worthy to touch the brooch, let alone wear it and transform with it. 

Duusu appeared moments after she managed to secure the brooch with weak fingers. Normally, Marinette would avoid talking to the kwami. She felt guilty about it, but M. Agreste had warned her that the kwami’s mind was addled, poisoned by its own Miraculous, and that talking to Duusu could hasten the spread of her illness. 

Well, that was no longer a concern. So what if Marinette poisoned herself again and again each time she became Bluewing? She had the ingredients she needed to undo the dark magic every time. 

“Wooh! What a ride! I was upside-down for a moment!” Duusu giggled, whirling around in the air before stopping in front of Marinette’s face. “Hello! Who are you? You look weird!” 

Marinette sighed. M. Agreste had been right, after all. Duusu did seem pretty addled. Didn’t they remember her at all? 

“I’m Marinette. We didn’t exactly have the best meeting last time,” she said to the wide-eyed bird. “Would you like to try again?”  

She offered her hand to the bird, who eyed it suspiciously and pecked at her finger. Marinette sighed. 

“I’m your new holder. Nice to meet you,” Marinette said, forcing a small smile onto her face. 

At these words, Duusu immediately brightened up and began flying around her excitedly. “Oh! A new holder? How exciting! I haven’t had a new holder since Foom! Or maybe it was Doom? Duberry? Emery? Oh, well, I’m sure we’ll get along just fine!” Suddenly, Duusu stopped with a frown. “No, wait, you can’t be my holder. You smell like... roses. And bread. That’s not right, that’s not right at all,” they fussed, flying back and forth in a dizzying motion. 

Marinette felt she was going to throw up, and she knew it wasn’t just the kwami’s back-and-forth flight causing the feeling. 

“Stop!” she cried, covering her eyes with her hands.  

But Duusu kept flying back and forth, and she could feel the air shifting against her skin with its motion. The kwami’s dizzying movement mixed with the sickly feeling of the brooch’s poison, and Marinette couldn’t focus, couldn’t think.  

“Stop, please! I order you to stop!” she cried out, without fully recognizing the power of what she had said. 

Duusu ground to a halt. They struggled in midair, casting a betrayed look at Marinette.  

“What happened? Did you just... order me? Oh, none of my holders have ever ordered me before,” they mourned, and their tail drooped behind them as Marinette slowly uncovered her eyes. 

“I did? I ordered you?”  

It was a horrifying thing to wake up to. Marinette had only said the first words that came to her mind in an attempt to make the sickness-inducing motion stop. She hadn’t meant to command anyone, not really! 

And yet, she had. Marinette doubled over as the sick feeling in her stomach intensified. 

“You did!” Duusu wailed. “And now you feel awful! But, oh, I’ll never be able to move again!” 

With this, they burst into tears, crying aloud at the horrible situation they were in, and Marinette felt her eyes well up, too. 

“I’m sorry!” she gasped. “I didn’t mean to! How do I undo it?” 

“I forget!” Duusu cried. In a panic, they cast their gaze about, trying to find some kind of solution. Then they paused on something just outside of Marinette’s vision, and suddenly, their tears halted in their tracks. “Oh, look, a butterfly! Easily my only true rival in beauty,” they preened. “Isn’t it beautiful, Master?” 

There was no way Duusu was just seeing a normal butterfly, not today in Paris. It must be an akuma! But why would M. Agreste send another akuma out so soon after the last one? 

Marinette whirled around, trying to spot the akuma through her blurry vision. 

There it is, she realized, It’s just a meter away!  

But wait, its wings... they’re orange, not black and purple.  

Marinette sucked in a deep breath. This was just a normal butterfly. She’d been wrong. Relief coursed through Marinette’s body, easing the churning sickness in her stomach a little. 

Determined, Marinette turned back to Duusu, who was back to wriggling in place. She still needed to un-order them! 

“Duusu, I release you,” she tried, forcing her voice out as loud and authoritative as she could get it. When nothing happened, she tried again. “Uh, I order you to disregard my previous order.” Will that work? M. Agreste never taught me about kwami orders!  

Wait. What if... what if Duusu isn’t the only one I just gave an order to?  

Marinette would never forgive herself if she’d just broached M. Agreste’s trust and broken her promise by giving an order to poor Adrien! Her heart raced as she wondered just how badly she’d messed up (on top of everything else she’d messed up today). 

Meanwhile, Duusu began zipping around again, although they stopped when they noticed Marinette’s eyes beginning to cross. 

“Oh, thank you!” they cheered. “I’m all better, Master! But... but you still feel so bad!” 

Duusu burst into tears again, and Marinette swallowed, reaching out to cup them in her hands.  

“There, there, it’s all right,” she said in a quiet voice. “I’ll be okay. I’ve been okay before, too. But right now, I need to get back to Adrien! We were at a photoshoot together, but then I... I did something horrible!” Her hands began to tremble, only partly because of the weakness spreading in her thanks to the brooch’s poison. 

Duusu wailed even louder. “Oh, it’s so sad! You think you hurt him, but you’re the one feeling all the pain!” 

“I’m sure he’s not feeling so good, either,” Marinette muttered, brushing a tear away from the corner of her eye before it could fall. “Duusu, do you think when I ordered you... I ordered him, too? Oh, what if he’s still stuck by the mansion, or the park? What if I made him stop moving in the middle of a street? Duusu, I really need to go make sure he’s okay! Spread my feathers!” 

She was running off towards Place des Vosges before her transformation had finished, her mind focused only on making sure Adrien was safe. 

“Adrien!” she called as she drew closer. “Adrien!” 

People stared at her as she passed by. One old woman even crossed herself. Marinette wondered why. She was just a normal girl, right? 

As she skidded past the corner where her house sat, she caught sight of Adrien. He was helping Nathalie move something back into the limousine, a garment bag, perhaps. What exactly it was didn’t matter, though, because he was moving! That meant Marinette hadn’t ordered him, after all! 

Well... not unless she had, and then her counter-order had worked on him, too. She’d better check, just in case. 

“Adrien,” Bluewing panted as she rushed up to him and put her hands on his shoulders. “Are you okay? Have you felt any weird urges to stay absolutely still and not fly around in dizzying zig-zigs?” 

Adrien went rigid under her touch. “Uh, nope, nothing like that, Bluewing,” he said, quirking one eyebrow. “Why, did Hawk Moth make another akuma already, and you’re trying to check if it's working?” 

“Well, no, I...” Marinette’s face scrunched up. Bluewing?  

Panicking, Marinette looked down at herself and realized that yes, she really was Bluewing right now! She’d just transformed to get here in time, but then... she hadn’t remembered to detransform. She’d just run up to Adrien like this, and now it looked like a well-known villain was checking in on a random (but famous) civilian. 

Bluewing realized that this was possibly the worst she had messed up that day. Maybe ever, if this led to the public figuring out her real identity. 

“Oh, n-no, sorry, I just wanted to check up on you,” she stammered. “I’m so sorry, there’s no akuma right now. That I know of. So, um. Bye?” 

She lifted her hands off of Adrien’s shoulders in a very casual, totally-not-your-best-friend-y way and ran back out of the park. To her horror, she could hear someone laughing as she fled, and as the adrenaline faded, the sick feeling in her stomach came back full force. 

“Fall my feathers,” she whispered once she’d made it back to the mansion. Ripping off her brooch, she put it back in the safe and hurried out to the foyer, intending to head right back out to the park. 

Gabriel stopped her as she stepped out of the room. 

“The photoshoot has been cancelled,” he informed her bluntly. “Adrien called me to say that he was concerned you wouldn’t feel comfortable working with him today. Apparently, he kissed you while you were under Dark Cupid’s spell,” he added with a stern look. 

So, this was happening now. Sure. She didn’t need a break to recover from all the mistakes she’d already managed to make, or anything! 

Marinette felt faint as she summoned up her courage and stood tall despite the pain now radiating through her body. “I suppose that’s one way to put it. Believe me, I didn’t mean to. And I know,” she swallowed hard, “I know he didn’t want to kiss me. I don’t know what happened. But I’m not surprised he doesn’t want to work with me, after that. I understand if he never wants to see me again.” 

Gabriel tsk- ed and looked down at Marinette for a moment, no doubt considering whether to take back Adrien’s amok, fire Marinette from her internship, and never let her in his house again.

“I don’t think that’s what he meant. Adrien is nothing if not stubborn, and once he makes a friend, he is reluctant to let go of them. I believe he’ll be back to normal in a day or two, as sentimental as he is. Do not worry too much about him, Marinette. Keep your attention on what’s most important. Your... entanglement with Adrien threw you off today. Don’t let yourself be distracted by whatever you feel for him. Call it what you want, but don’t take me for a fool, Marinette. Don’t waste your potential for the possibility of a relationship with Adrien.”

Marinette felt shame creep up her neck, staining her cheeks a damning red. “That’s not... I don’t want to date your son,” she protested. “I... was distracted by what happened, but only because it made me hurt a good friend. That’s not what I ever wanted to do,” she whispered. 

“As you say,” Gabriel said disbelievingly. “Regardless, I think perhaps I have put too much stress on you recently. Take the afternoon off. I’ll have Nathalie give you homework, so that you don’t fall too far behind on your lessons. Go home, and don’t think about the mission for one evening. When you come back tomorrow, I expect you to be sharp and ready for battle.” 

“Yes, M. Agreste,” Marinette said. “I’m sorry for letting you down.” 

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” he said. “I want you to be better.” 

Gabriel walked past her, heading to his atelier. Marinette lingered behind, feeling lost. He’d just dismissed her. She had done such a terrible job that he’d dismissed her and told her to rest, like some tragic Victorian lady! 

It was all Marinette could do to stay on her feet and keep her shameful blush at bay as she packed up to go and replaced her old vial with one full of new potion. This immediately lifted most of the sickness she was feeling, but not all of what she felt was because of the Miraculous’ poison; she knew that. 

Ms. Sancoeur stopped Marinette before she could leave. 

“I haven’t given you your lessons yet,” she said in her usual, cold tone. “Here. Gabriel told me you weren’t feeling well today. I hope you are better tomorrow.” 

“Thank you,” Marinette said as she set down her bookbag and placed the folder Nathalie had handed her inside it. “I promise, I’ll be back to normal soon.” 

“Good,” Nathalie said, folding her tablet under one arm.  

Marinette lifted her bookbag over her shoulders. “Will I be walking home, or did M. Agreste ask the Gorilla to wait for me?” 

“The chauffeur will drive you, of course. But before you leave, there’s something else I need to tell you. Marinette, someone recorded the kiss Adrien gave you to break Dark Cupid’s spell.” 

Marinette felt like she’d been hit by one of Chat Grise’s warning-less punches.  

“What? How? I, I didn’t see anyone after,” she stuttered as her heart pounded fast and loud in her chest. How could this keep getting worse? 

“One of Adrien’s fans noticed your fight and followed you back to the mansion. They recorded the second half on their phone and posted it on social media,” Ms. Sancoeur continued, looking down at her tablet and ignoring Marinette’s wide-eyed gaze. “Unfortunately, I was unable to take the post down before it went viral. I’m doing what I can to scrub the video off the internet, but with how large and active Adrien’s fanbase is, I’m afraid it’s an impossible task. Until the commotion dies down, you’re going to have to deal with increased attention from the public and heightened security when you’re outside the mansion. For now, don’t go anywhere without telling either me or M. Agreste first. We’ll have Adrien’s bodyguard cover you if he’s available.”  

Marinette’s mouth was dry, but her hands grew clammy as she listened to Nathalie’s explanation. Her mind skipped like an old DVD as she tried to picture how the public must think of her now. What explanations were they coming up with for the kiss?  

She must have looked as panicked as she felt, because Ms. Sancoeur’s face softened. “Marinette. It’s okay to admit that you need a break for more than one evening.” 

“I’ll be okay,” Marinette quickly replied. After all, the kiss had just been another side effect of an akuma. With how often Paris got those, Marinette’s moment of infamy shouldn’t last long. 

Nathalie’s eyebrow lifted half a millimeter. “Are you really sure you can handle this? From now on, every time you step outside, you’ll need to watch for paparazzi. That’s in addition to all the reporters you have to avoid as Bluewing, and although Adrien will be dealing with increased exposure after the kiss as well, if the public has a negative opinion about it, they will find a way to blame you. In their eyes, you’d be a criminal.”

In their eyes, you’d be a criminal.  

“Oh,” Marinette replied, her body on autopilot as Ms. Sancoeur’s words circled around in her head like a child’s toy train on its track. “I’m sure it won’t be as bad as what the press says about Bluewing,” Marinette responded, her shoulders slumping as she mentally prepared for the next few days of hell. “I’ll handle it on my own, Ms. Sancoeur.” 

“Please don’t. You don’t need to suffer, Marinette, all you need to do is give us a call before you step outside for any reason. And hang blackout curtains up in your room, if you haven’t already. And don’t stay in your parents’ shop for long; it’s too open and that makes it dangerous.” Ms. Sancoeur sighed. “Just... be careful. Adrien cares a lot about you, Marinette, and it’s clear that you care about him, in return. True love’s kiss is not something to scoff at, apparently.” 

Marinette’s heart caught in her throat. “True love’s kiss? Ms. Sancoeur, you must be mistaken. That wasn’t kiss love true— kiss blue— I mean, it was just an effect from the akuma, right? It didn’t mean anything.” 

Nathalie’s lips thinned. “Marinette, I may not be an expert in romantic love by any stretch of the imagination, but the akuma today was likely influenced by the literature Kim was reading with the rest of Adrien’s class. I keep notes on what he is studying, even now, and this week, Ms. Bustier’s class was studying fairy tales. In particular, they were studying classics like Sleeping Beauty and Snow White.” 

Marinette scowled and crossed her arms. “So? That doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like M. Agreste had you design the akuma for him.” 

Nathalie frowned and adjusted her glasses. “Adrien already told me his half of the story. The kiss was not a side effect of the akuma; anyone can see that. Its powers reversed people’s affections, and Kim targeted lovers and friends. That means your protective love for Adrien was turned into a dangerous hatred of him. You were attacking him— were, but Kim wasn’t the only one paying attention in class. Adrien decided to kiss you, in the hopes that the fairy tales’ words would prove true. A kiss, a symbol of romantic love, is what breaks evil’s spell.” 

Marinette swayed on her feet, and Nathalie quickly reached out to steady her. 

“Of course, friendly love is quite powerful, too!" Nathalie said in a rush. "It’s what kept me here, trying to find a cure for Emilie alongside Gabriel. And— but sometimes, friendly love, in the end, doesn’t turn out to be so friendly. Don’t you think?”  

Nathalie looked extremely embarrassed by her admission. Marinette was so occupied by what she’d revealed about the kiss to focus on anything else, though. 

“But, Ms. Sancoeur, I don’t love Adrien like that! He’s my friend, but I know my love for him is just platonic! Even if he loves me, I— I’m in love with someone else!” she burst out. 

Nathalie stilled and straightened. “You’re in love? With whom?” 

Marinette’s cheeks reddened as she realized her mistake. 

“I’m in love? What? Where did you get that idea? I’m not in love, I’m just friendemy, henemy, I mean I’m not in love! With anyone! So there!” 

Marinette tried to maintain steady eye contact with Nathalie to show she wasn’t lying, but Ms. Sancoeur had mastered the art of the withering gaze at If Looks Could Kill college, and it wasn’t long before she had to cave in. 

“Okay, fine. I’m not in love, but it’s just really hard to not think that Golden Bug is cute, right? I mean, his puns are atrocious, but for a villain, he’s way too kind. He’s on the wrong side, but he has a heart of gold!” She giggled helplessly. “And his eyes are like, wow, and his face when he’s confused is just—” 

“Let’s stop there,” Nathalie said hurriedly. “Please just stop. You’re in love with Golden Bug?” 

Marinette’s cheeks felt like they were on fire. “It’s just a crush. A phase. I’ll grow out of it.” 

Ms. Sancoeur sighed. “Okay, you have a crush on Golden Bug. But you know Adrien has a crush on you?” 

Marinette squeaked. “Well, now that you’ve said it like that, I guess I do? But he probably, I mean, it’s been a confusing kiss, I mean, we’re just friends and we’re going to stay like that! And I can’t date him anyway, because M. Agreste said I couldn’t, so how do we help him get over me?” 

Ms. Sancoeur’s eyes sharpened. “Gabriel told you not to date Adrien? When?” 

“Like, five minutes before you started talking to me. He said my emotions are making me distracted during battles and then told me to take a break. I don’t think he trusts me anymore. But he let me keep Adrien’s amok, which— oh, no. Nathalie, you don’t think I’m influencing Adrien to love me, do you? Am I abusing his amok? Why don’t they come with instructions; this is all too complicated,” she fussed, slapping her hands to the side of her face. 

Ms. Sancoeur frowned. “Well, do you want him to love you? Or did you give him an order to kiss you today?” 

Marinette’s hands fell into fists at her side. “No! I would never!” 

“Then his emotions are not influenced by your amok. They are his own, Marinette, and you shouldn’t start trying to control them now. I’ll talk to Gabriel for you, and see if I can get him to change his mind. You should be allowed to date whomever you like.” 

“What? Thank you, but I thought I said I don’t want to date Adrien?” 

“No, but you did imply that you wanted to get over Golden Bug, and I find myself agreeing very much with that sentiment. And here, you have Adrien, who already cares very deeply about you—” 

Marinette clasped her hands over her ears. “No!” 

Ms. Sancoeur’s lips twitched as if she was amused, but she took pity on Marinette after a moment. “You don’t have to date him. But I am concerned that M. Agreste is restricting who he can and can’t date. I’m not just talking to him on your behalf, but on Adrien’s. Although, if you really do want to move on from Golden Bug, and if you happen to face the core of those friendly, distracting emotions you have for Adrien and find they’re not what you thought they were... I don’t think it would be such a bad idea. He is the real reason you agreed to become Bluewing, isn’t he? I know it couldn’t have been Emilie. You never had the chance to know her like I did.” 

Marinette looked down, feeling the heat in her cheeks cool somewhat. “You’re right. Most of what M. Agreste told me was awful, and I do care about healing Emilie, but Adrien... well, he’s the closest friend I’ve had in a long time. I don’t want to hurt him! And I don’t want him to get hurt by anyone else, either. That’s why M. Agreste trusted me with one of his amoks. That’s why I agreed to fight, to protect him and make sure he gets the family he deserves. Only, I feel like I’m kind of doing the opposite of not hurting him now. How can I keep being his friend when I only mess it up? And how do I turn him down without hurting him, especially since he hasn’t confessed his crush to me?” 

Nathalie hummed. “I think Gabriel was right to trust you. You haven’t hurt Adrien, not yet, anyway. You might, if you deal with his feelings the wrong way. He’s as fragile as he is strong, Marinette. But you know that already. My advice, as unqualified as I fear it is, is to keep being his friend as you have in the past. Don’t acknowledge his feelings unless he brings them up, and be honest and gentle with him. Your friendship means a lot to both of you. It’s not going to break because of a crush.” 

“But it might,” Marinette said fearfully. “What if I say the wrong thing? What if I never get over Golden Bug, but Adrien never gets over me, and we have to tiptoe around our feelings forever?” 

“You won’t say the wrong thing, Marinette, not if you’re honest and considerate. And if you still love Golden Bug? Then you’ll work through it. You have a heart of gold, yourself, you know. And there’s enough room for more than one kind of love in it. Listen. Go home, rest up like Gabriel said. Don’t worry about anything tonight. I’m on your side, and we’ll figure this out together. You’ll be okay. Both of you will.” 

Marinette sniffed. “Thank you,” she said, surging forward to give Nathalie a quick hug. “You’re the best secretary ever. You deserve, like, a thousand raises for this. And a hamster.” 

Nathalie huffed out a quiet laugh. “Well, thank you. I appreciate it. And I promise not to let word of your secret crush slip to Gabriel. Now, don’t waste your extra time. Go, the chauffeur is waiting for you.” 

She patted Marinette on the back and watched her get ready to leave. When Marinette reached the car and got in, she offered a small wave, and turned to head to the atelier.   

Marinette smiled as the car pulled away from the mansion. She hadn’t seemed like she would at first, but Nathalie really did care. 

#true blue #ml fanfic #rosie-b writing #bluewing au #miraculous ladybug #ml au

[your-eternal-lies]

𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐄 ╰┈➤ chapter sixteen

𝒏𝒐𝒕-𝒔𝒐 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 — do not plagiarize, copy, screenshot, repost/republish, and/or translate any of my work for posting on social media platforms or third party sites. no part of my stories are to be fed into AI software or generators. and please remember: you are responsible for your own media consumption. check for any content warnings before you proceed.

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐨𝐱 — 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — steve rogers x neighbour f!reader

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — as his perfectly normal civilian neighbour, you’ve always been secretly curious about the captain. getting to know him while trapped together in your building’s elevator, however, definitely wasn’t on the agenda.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — endings, but happy :)

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑳𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 (𝑺𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑭𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒆)

The music swells to a crescendo, the final notes hanging in the air like stars suspended in the night sky. You remain in Steve’s embrace, his strong arms still wrapped around you as if you are the most precious treasure he’s ever been entrusted with. 

Your head rests on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart that drums a rhythm more captivating than any melody. 

“Think you’ll ever get used to this?” You tilt your head up, a playful glint in your eyes, teasing the edges of your question with the lilt of your voice. 

“Used to what?” Steve asks quizzically, pretending not to follow. 

“Being the centre of attention without having to throw a shield first,” you explain, nodding towards the small group of people watching you. 

“Ah,” he smirks, taking note of Tony’s knowing smirk, Bruce’s shy nod, Thor’s booming greetings, “well, I think I can handle just about anything—if you plan on sticking around, that is.” 

“Good answer, Cap,” you poke him gently in the ribs as he twirls you one last time. 

“Seems like the party is wrapping up now,” Steve observes, his voice a gentle rumble that vibrates through your ear. “But somehow, I don’t feel like it’s ending for us?” 

“Wrap-up? No way,” you scoff playfully, looking up at him with a twinkle in your eye. “This is just intermission. Act two is where all the good stuff happens.” 

“Is that right?” He grins suggestively, but you just pinch his arm and continue. 

“Oh, you know… adventures, mishaps, midnight snacks—” 

“Midnight snacks?” Steve echoes, an eyebrow raised in amusement. 

“Absolutely essential,” you confirm with a solemn nod, tapping a finger against his chest. “You can’t save the world on an empty stomach, after all.” 

“Not exactly what I had in mind,” he says, before that salacious grin makes a slow and deliberate comeback. “Or maybe…” 

“God, you are incorrigible,” you roll your eyes, but the smile on your face tells a different tale. “Who are you, and what have you done with my sweet, innocent Steve? I thought you were a gentleman.” 

“Only during the day,” he quips, not missing a beat. 

“Steven Grant Rogers,” you gasp, pressing a hand to your chest, pretending to be scandalized. 

“Fine, fine,” he chuckles, grinning down at you. “After this, we raid Tony’s kitchen for snacks. But for now…” 

His voice trails off as he bends down and lays another kiss upon your lips, your laughter mingling with the fading chatter of the guests around you, who are beginning to gather their things and exchange farewells. Yet in the cocoon of yours and Steve’s shared warmth, the clamour of the departing crowd seems worlds away. 

“Right now, it’s just you and me,” you say, your words soft and earnest, devoid of the usual sarcasm and dry humour that you often wield like a shield. 

“Just you and me,” he agrees wholeheartedly, his gaze tender and unwavering as he draws you even closer. 

Hours later, as the dusk fades into an inky black sky, and after the party crowd has dispersed after saying their goodnights, you and Steve find yourselves in Little Italy. 

Steve leans back against the worn leather of a booth inside Luigi’s Pizza. His plate, once piled high with slices of margherita and pepperoni, now lays empty, save for an odd crumb or two that had escaped his eager tastebuds. 

“Well?” You prod, propping your elbow on top of the table, the curve of your jaw cradled in the palm of your hand. 

“Okay,” Steve admits, remembering your insistence when you told him about this place when the two of you were still just strangers trapped together in an elevator. “That was incredible.” 

“Right?” You exclaim, your laughter mingling with his contented sigh. You reach for the check presenter that had been discreetly placed on the edge of the table. “Luigi’s never disappoints.” 

Steve’s hand gets there first, his fingers grazing yours in a fleeting touch that makes you shiver with anticipation. “Or maybe it was just the lovely company.” 

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Stevie,” you reply, the nickname slipping out adorned with a fondness that you’re slowly growing accustomed to. 

All his life he’d strived to be more than just unremarkable little Steve Rogers, and lately he finds himself wanting nothing more than to be just that. Not the hero, not the symbol, but just a man who can enjoy a slice of pizza without wondering what crisis tomorrow will bring. 

And during the time that he’s with you, long or short, that’s not just a mere possibility anymore.

You stand up together, Steve slipping his jacket over your shoulders before you step back out into the night. The night is young as your hands brush, this time lingering just a bit longer, an unspoken promise hanging in the air like steam rising from the sewers. 

As if completely in sync, the two of you step off the curb and back into the flow of the city that never sleeps. With each step, your lives weave together even tighter, embracing the spontaneity of the evening ahead. 

The lights cast ever-changing colours onto the pavement, painting their way forward with splashes of luminescence. Steve inhales deeply, the cool night air filling his lungs and swirling around his senses, bringing clarity and a profound sense of peace he hasn’t felt in ages. 

“Look at you,” you tease, calling out to him over your shoulder. “Breathing like you’ve never seen lights before.” 

“Just taking it all in,” Steve admits, watching as the glow from the streetlights cast halos around you, getting lost in the sparkle of your eyes. The way your lips curve when you smile, the infectious enthusiasm in your voice, and the smart sass that comes so naturally. 

And he finds himself finally believing—maybe for the first time since he’d been thawed from the ice—that perhaps this is a wonderful time to be alive, after all.

Fin.

« Chapter 15 || Series Masterlist »

Taglist — My taglist has been discontinued. Please follow @your-eternal-library and turn on notifications for all my fanfiction updates.

Notes — Omg another story finished! I had A LOT of fun writing this, I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thanks to everyone who came along for the ride; I love you all!

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers series #steve rogers fluff #summer’s fics

[silverfoxstole]

OK. Right. I've sorted my panel photos, which I'll start posting tomorrow (I won't bombard you with them all at once!), so I can get my thoughts straight about yesterday. This is going to be long; sorry! I'll divide it into two parts so that those who want to skip my wittering and just see the pics can.

I hadn't actually thought I'd ever go to a con again; my last one had been back in 2009 and they've got a hell of a lot bigger since then, which sort of puts me off as I don’t really like crowds, and living as I do right down on the south coast they're usually too far away. However, when back at the end of January an ad popped up out of the blue on my Facebook feed informing me that Paul would be appearing at Portsmouth Comic Con (less than ten miles from me) my heart skipped a beat and I started wondering whether I'd be able to go. Of course, there was nothing stopping me but I wasn't keen to go on my own, and I knew my DW-and-anything-else-related-to-scifi-fantasy-etc-hating sister would never agree.

When not long later I saw Sylvester was going to be there as well I mentioned it to my friend P (with whom I’ve attended cons in the past), lamenting that I had no one to go with and not really expecting her to suggest that she try to come down from Manchester so we could go together but to my surprise she did and so the tickets were duly booked. Fast forward to about three weeks ago, unfortunately, and things started to go - literally in this case - off the rails thanks to a driver's strike and then engineering work that meant no trains into Portsmouth for the 11th and 12th and P very reluctantly having to drop out because she wouldn't be able to get down here and back in time for work on Monday. Still wanting to go but not really wanting to do it alone I had no choice but to ask sis to come with me, which she very gamely did and I owe her. Big Time. It’s really not her thing and I know she didn't enjoy it at all. She works in town and made me stand on the outside in the queue in case she saw anyone she knew!

I had been worried about how I was going to react as I do suffer from anxiety and I've not been amongst crowds since before Covid, but much to my surprise I was completely relaxed, even when talking to the guests; I'm obviously long past my 'OMG it's Paul!' phase (thank goodness!) and instead it was a case of 'Oh, yeah, there he is, and Sylv and Sophie (a later addition, and one I'd been hoping for) too.' I don't know whether it's because they're so familiar or I just got used to actors popping in when I worked in a shop near a theatre, but it was easy and I'm so glad! The reflexology session I had in Thursday might have helped keep me calm, too; if you’re feeling tense I recommend it!

I had only previously visited the Guildhall for concerts (sis knows it better as she's had to do presentations to the city council in the past) so it was rather odd to be in there during the day. I have to say that I think they could have put aside more room for the guests as it was difficult to work out who was queuing to see who (ho ho). It was very warm and the setup also made taking photos a bit awkward with people having to dance round each other a bit. We went to see Paul first (of course), and when he clocked me in my NotD cosplay he leaned back, smiled and announced 'It's like lookin' in a mirror!' I honestly can't remember exactly what I said in response to that! Probably nothing that coherent! He asked if I'd made it myself, which gave me a neat opportunity to present the gift I'd made for him: an Eighth Doctor bear and Mr Bush bear.

I think i've wanted to make bears for Paul ever since I put together the first one nearly three years ago, but I never thought I'd get a chance so when I knew I'd be going to the con I started planning. I was originally just going to do the Doctor, and make a Seven bear for Sylvester, but as they were coming to Portsmouth I decided to do Bush as well since I can’t imagine Paul gets a lot of Hornblower-related gifts. Of course, when it was confirmed that Sophie would be there I had to make an Ace bear too and here they all are before I packed them up yesterday morning, sitting on the bags i'd also run up to put them in (not pictured, my terrible embroidery name tags to help me tell who was who):

I'll do some more detailed posts so you can see them properly another day, but I was so pleased with they way they turned out that it was really hard to give them up! At least I knew they'd be going to good homes!

When I gave Paul the bag he just looked at me in surprise and went 'Is that for me? Can I open it now?' and there was a smile on his face as soon as he saw what was inside. 'That's my career! Doctor Who and Hornblower!' He absolutely loved them, couldn't believe I'd made them and told me 'I have a room where I keep all the gifts I've been given, and these are going to take pride of place.' I couldn't wish for more than that! Well, maybe a photo of him with them but it was busy and I didn't like to ask and possibly hold things up. I hope he's found the alternative Dark Eyes outfit that I added for Eight bear as I had some fabric leftover from my jacket; the sonic for that one took a bit of ingenuity!

He asked about my costume again while we were getting into position (for want of a better term) for a photo and commented that so many people are paying someone to make their cosplays now and spending a hundreds of pounds, something I'd guess he finds quite astonishing given the incredulous look on his face when he said it. I could be wrong, but I got the impression that he likes to see what different fans have come up with; there are a lot of people who seem to be patronising Steven Ricks since Paul got his remade costume last year, which I can understand because the man is a brilliant tailor, but sometimes it must be a bit like seeing clones.

Jen took the photo and we were about to leave it there but then this strangely confident person I found inside me asked Paul a question:

‘Can I be cheeky?’

‘Sure.’

‘Can I give you a hug?’

‘Of course!’

Well, if you don’t ask, you don’t get! (says the woman who hates asking for things in shops) He gives very good hugs. 🥰

I did manage to let him go (it wasn’t easy!) and he thanked me again for the bears before we moved on to see Sophie, which involved going round to join another queue in the same small space. Confusing? Yep!

I don't know who here has met Sophie Aldred but you should because she is so, so lovely. Ace has always been one of my favourite companions and I was so pleased when I saw she would be coming. I'd already started an Ace bear with the intention of giving it to Sylvester with his, but of course that got changed and Sophie was smitten. She looked really closely at it, remarking on the little details - 'Oh, it's even got the plait. And a rucksack and baseball bat!' - and sat it proudly on the corner of her table, where I assume it stayed for some of the day. Apparently it's the best Ace bear she's ever seen - you can't get a better accolade than that! (My head was swelling somewhat by this point, by the way. I don't like to blow my own trumpet but I don't often get so many compliments, and never in such a short space of time, so i hope you can forgive me for including them.)

Last but not least, of course, there was Sylvester, which meant another queue in the same space, which was just daft as because their tables were next to each other you didn't know whether people were waiting for him or for Paul. I'm sure that could have been organised much better than it was. In the same section there were also two chaps who had somethng to do with Star Wars who weren't getting much attention at all which was a bit awkward. They haven't gone back today and I can't blame really them.

I've wanted to meet Sylv for years and he didn’t disappoint. He liked the fabric the bag was made from because its starry night pattern was similar to his waistcoat, which admittedly was why i bought it in the first place. When he got it open and saw what was inside he said 'Oh! I'm a little bear! That’s lovely!’ and when I said I'd made one for Sophie too leaned round trying to see it on Sophie's table. I half wish I'd made a set of both for each of them now but that might have been overkill, and I would have needed a rucksack of my own to transport them all; my bag was full to bursting as it was. Maybe if I see them again I’ll give Sophie a Doctor bear and Sylvester an Ace. As it stands I am so, so pleased that all three of them liked something I'd made so much, and Sylvester and Sophie were both also taken with the cartoons of the Seventh Doctor and Ace that I asked them to sign.

Phew! If you've reached the end of this, well done! I know I have tendency to ramble on and I commend your stamina! I'll put the photos in a separate post but I was one happy camper, especially as just afterwards i got another compliment on my costume and was asked to pose in the TARDIS! We didn't stay the whole day as it was hot, I'd pretty much seen what I wanted to (the Doctor Who 'exhibition' was just a few monster replicas, most of which weren't that good, unlike the really impressive experience they had last year for the 60th and which I would have loved to see. And there were no daleks! My ambition to hug a dalek sadly remains unfulfilled *sniff*) sis had developed a headache, but I'm very glad I went. 😀

#long post #my rambles #paul mcgann #sophie aldred #sylvester mccoy #portsmouth comic con #my bears #doctor who bears #doctor who

[therealdogsinmymind]

Okii, I saw you had some open slots so I thought Id give it a shot!!

Jinwoo with Male!childhood friend!reader who remembers everything post-regression. Reader had pretended to be oblivious ever since and planned to take his secret (feelings) to the GRAVE.

BUT eventually it slips when reader refers to their crush as "SM" when talking on a panel at an anime convention (Reader wrote a series based on the last timeline but changed things around so it would be hard to recognise) they were invited to.

The pannel is talking about childhood crushes and reader literally describes jinwoo pre-regression powers and all then saying "oh they're just a character from an old show I watched about growing up (LIE) avsndnjdn 😅😅" (reasoning was "ahahaha its not like he'll see this right? ... right??)

The issue is that jinwoo sees a recording of the panel and realizes that reader remembers EVERYTHING and needs to confront them NOW.

Here are the issues:

Jin Woo didnt even know that Reader was an Author in the first place

Reader is in ANOTHER COUNTRY and is going to stay there for a few weeks after said convention

Reader confessed their feelings assuming the other didn't feel the same before the last battle, DIED, and then had been pretending to not remember anything for years after time reset.

Reader's cosplaying (as a cute anime girl /maid with the fluffy short skirts) at the convention and having fans SIMPING for them.

All I know that Jinwoo will not be waiting for reader to come back to Korea

This is mostly Brainrot, but I hope you like it skdnkdnd!

have a good one :)

Hello There! Thank you for your request and for the wait!! I hope you like what I've cooked up!! A standard drabble for me is 300-600 words but this ended up being a little over 1,100 lmao ^^' It's only loosely edited so I hope there's nothing tooooo terribly wrong with it!

Anyway! Without further ado!

.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

Be an author they said, it’ll be great, they said. 

Nobody actually said this, especially since you’ve largely kept your writing a secret from your friends and family. However your whole life you’ve been determined, and consequently you were thrilled when you were invited to America to speak at a panel about your works, who wouldn’t be? You never got to do anything like this in your last life, it was absolutely mind-blowing to even consider. However you’re not sure if this is what you wanted seeing as your fans have started to ask some invasive ass questions. 

“My childhood crush?” you repeat with a dry mouth, you really don’t want to talk about Jinwoo in front of a room full of people. Surely you can spin this, make up a story; you’re good at that. Hesitation fills you, you don’t want to admit that you’re gay to a room full of strangers but you can’t spin this tale that hard. “The only childhood crush I had is this character from a really obscure comic,” you say with a weak laugh, unfortunately they all prompt you to say more.

“Well.. He was actually a huge inspiration for my series,” you offer, cringing internally. Jinwoo will never see this, never ever, it’s fine. “This character, we’ll call him SM,” the audience groans at the hidden identity, “I can’t reveal all my secrets to you guys! I gotta have some mystery y’know? Anyway- he was this really weak guy, super cute right? Then he ends up getting like crazy strong. Not that he wasn’t hot when he looked like a wet cat, I have taste.” The audience chuckles knowingly, they get you, you have a similar character in your current series, he’s quite beloved. You clear your throat and continue, getting bolder despite the way your hands are sweating. “I’ve always been in love with him, that's why I wrote my story, I couldn’t get that, um, series… out of my head and I needed to create something of my own. It altered me in a way that I’ll never forget, and I’ll love SM until the day that I die.” The room goes quiet for a moment and you have to wipe your palms on the fluff of your stupid maid skirt. Why did you want to cosplay at this convention again? You look ridiculous up here, cat ears atop your head as you talk about some “fictional” boy like you’re deeply in love with him. You could’ve at least worn not a frilly skirt?

Suddenly the crowd goes wild clapping. “You’re so real!” Someone yells and everyone else cheers in agreement. Is that something the kids say? You’ll take it. 

The rest of the panel is much less harrowing, lots of goofing off and then the next day you have autographs and photos right after, who knew you were so popular in America? It’s quite exciting, but you’re exhausted every night when you get back to your hotel room. 

The last day at the convention you trudge back to your room, slipping your heels off and flopping face down onto your bed. Your skirt flips up and you don’t even bother to fix it, what’s the point? You’re just going to sleep like this, let the exhaustion take you. You have another two weeks of sight-seeing in America before you head home. You’re excited for it but a part of you just really misses Jinwoo, you want to call him but then he’d know you’re not in Korea.

“SM, huh?” The bed dips and a familiar voice sounds from behind you, just before hand settles on the back of your thigh. The touch barely high enough that a gloved portion of it brushes your skin above your thigh high stockings. You startle so badly you roll off the bed in the other direction. 

You hit the floor hard enough that it knocks the air out of you and you have to take a second to reorient yourself before you spring up, pointing at the intruder, “Y-you! What are you doing here!?” 

“I could ask you the same question. You up and vanished, I had to find out from a video posted of some panel that you’re not dead.”

“I’m fine, you could’ve texted! Besides! How they hell did you get here so fast!” Your voice is shrill as you round the bed, crossing your arms over your chest as you stand in front of him. 

He doesn’t reply right away, just raising his eyebrow, unimpressed. “Avoiding the question?”

“What?”

“Your childhood crush-” he starts, not needing to finish. You start stuttering out excuses, it’s not what he thinks, it came to you in a dream, you were just making stuff up, the more you talk the more you dig yourself into a hole.

Jinwoo sighs and grabs your wrist, pulling you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you and sticking his face in the crook of your neck. “Why didn’t you tell me you remember everything?” His words are quiet and pained, full of mourning. Your heart throbs suddenly aware of how painful it must’ve been for him to have to start over all by himself.

“I’m sorry.” You don’t know what else to say. You don’t know how to tell him you’ve loved him for as long as you’ve known him, in both timelines that is. Or how to tell him you were also suffering alone. Or even how to say you think you’d die without him by your side. You shakily reach up and card your fingers through his hair, exhaling a breath you’ve been holding for a little too long. 

Jinwoo makes a noise of discontent, “I don’t want an apology.” You stiffen, unsure what to do before he continues, “I want to know why you thought it was okay to let other men see you like this…” He runs a hand up your thigh, it’s a whisper of a touch. Eventually his gloved fingers sneak onto your bare skin then under a too-frilly skirt. You suck in a sharp breath. Does this mean he feels the same? When you confessed so very long ago in the other world you never got to hear an answer so suffice to say your brain is spinning as he presses a soft his to your shoulder. 

“Jinwoo-” you start. 

“Be it America, or anywhere else in the world… Any timeline… I will find you and I won’t let you slip through my fingers- never again.” He makes his intentions clear with a scrape of his uncannily sharp teeth across your skin. “And trust me, I still have some… frustrations- about you hiding your feelings from me for all these years.” He says, snapping your garter, making you yelp.Ah, the consequences of your actions, so you see. Well, perhaps you don’t mind too much if this is the outcome.

#jinwoo sung x reader #solo leveling x reader #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo sung x you #solo leveling headcanons #sung jinwoo x reader #request

[lotus-pear]

stormbringer chuuya the world

#can’t remember if i posted this or not. oh well #sorry for no new art i had to dig back in my files for this one #the face 7yo me made when my strawberry scented shampoo tasted like sodium lauryl sulfate instead of strawberries #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd #nakahara chuuya #chuuya nakahara #lotus draws

[thatsrightice]

Val Kilmer on the set of Top Gun (1986)

#the back of his neck makes me feel things #idk why but specifically the back of his neck #have I posted these before? I can’t remember #oh well lol #he look so cozy #i h/c that iceman secretly can’t stand the cold but hides it really well for the most part #how I know its during TG? check out the wall of that left pic #and the guys hat #soft iceman #iceman in a sweater! #also Val Kilmer in a sweater! #idl why but specifically the back of his neck #✨my hawaiian sun kissed boy✨ #can’t stand the cold #I love soft iceman with all my heart #tom iceman kazansky #tom kazansky #top gun iceman #icemav #top gun #Val Kilmer #iceman

[eldesperadont]

2015 — 2023

#can’t remember if i posted this before #i feel like i did but i cant find it in my tag for him #oh well #old sketches #hanasartstuff #jay white #njpw

[figfull]

Gene Origin Headcanons

Veined 

A gene that originated in the Scarred Wasteland. Warriors would accentuate their battle scars with metallic highlighting or tattoos to show off everything they had survived. The practice spread to mercenary groups and warriors from other flights, and eventually, to young dragons who wanted to make themselves look more edgy without actually earning scars. Some opted for the magical route and ended up passing the trait along. 

Opal

A Dragonhome original. In the Crystal Court, petrification was reserved for two things. Persevering their most respected and powerful dead and executing their most dangerous and treasonous criminals. Some rebels, however, managed to escape after partial petrification. They escaped with their lives, but not before patches of stone and crystal had grown into their bones. It was a handicap for the first few generations, but the trait softened until it was purely aesthetic. 

Runes

Originally called Oathmarks. Runes were magically binding oaths seared into the oath-maker’s hide. The terms of each oath varied, but the marks would always burn and glow if the oath-maker violated the their contract. If they were not removed, the runes could be passed to offspring, though the magical binding wouldn’t. After a few generations, the marks would resemble script, but would not be legible. 

#I feel like a made a similar post before #Can’t remember #Oh well #Fr headcanon #flight rising headcanon #FigRambles #FigLore #flight rising

[airegieus]

#Can’t remember if I posted these #If I did…oh well #Bnha #mha #Bakugou #doodles #airegieus

[juniperhillpatient]

when u say ur not team Damon THIS is who’s team ur not on btw

#Damon #I can’t remember if the person I’m following who’s currently going on an anti Damon Salvatore posting spree #is my mutual or not tbh #well. I u are. hi. yes this is a vague but like. a very silly goofy one 😂 #I the tvd poster in the background omg #I didn’t even notice at first ahahdhdhd #oh yeah & my hogwarts poster. well. if I was bigger on here that’d be the thing to get me cancelled lol

[ra-ma-ma]

through back to the eggs I did last year

#me irl #pmmm #madoka magica #I can’t remember if I posted this last year oh well

[lieutenant-amuel]

✨Gabe Symbolism✨

#Elena of Avalor #Gabriel Nunez #Gabe Nunez #My edit #I was looking through my Tumblr drafts and came across this thing #I don’t know why I never posted it but I’m doing it now #It looks pretty actually #Unrelated but I’m now thinking of making a personality (?) aesthetic for Gabe #aka his Zodiac Sign MBTI type enneagram type and other stuff like this #Or/and I’ll make a MBTI gifset illustrating Gabe’s cognitive functions because you can’t imagine how often I think about it #I’m not sure how to make it though but I’ll try #Akajdkfkf this is such a self-indulgent thing honestly :’D #But I love Gabe and I love MBTI so nobody can stop me #Oh and I’ll make some notes regarding the things I’ve chosen for Gabe #because my mind is still fresh even though I don’t remember when I made it #His surname has several meanings one of them is ‘son of Nuno’ (duh) another ones are ‘grandfather’ ‘ninth’ and ‘squire’ #(those are meanings of the name Nuno) #Squire doesn’t seem like the most popular meaning but I’ve chosen it either way because this one is the most fitting to Gabe #When it comes to animals there are several ones that would fit him like a dog or a lion but well a bear seems to be fitting too #Not because he’s a cute teddy bear pls don’t traumatize me by saying it #Y’all will probably kick me for choosing the blue color for Gabe because this is way too obvious but tbf it actually fits him #And brown does too #He’s like a stoic cliff by the wavy sea #As for stones don’t even ask me it’s hard finding their meanings #Oh and back to animals for a moment I thought of replacing it with a deer because of the leaping stag move #But a deer doesn’t fit (spiritually) him that much sadly #Also if you read my Gabe fic you should know that a deer is a symbol of Gabe’s patrol not without a reason hehe

[itissadbutitsmy-artblog]

Also, for the earliest question you raised (How do they escape Coconteppi's Grave) Sane!Minteppi could just... teleport them out.

you’re so right HOWEVER. problem I’ve always had with this entire situation

where do they GO

they don’t have any adults they trust! pep liked dr c I guess but she’s out of the question. Deb’s first thought when she was in trouble was to go to brain wizard and he’s out of the question too. do they trust that abracadaniel could DO ANYTHING about this? the wizard guards are gonna shoot first ask questions later especially with blaine having spent the last two days sobbing to them that pep killed their friend probably. and Blaine’s not an adult but they can’t go to them either (as a kid who has resources and connections) bc they’re stuck in an alley right now and also Hate Them. do they trust the other teachers after THAT??? how do we know they aren’t part of a different secret cult (which I mean, they are. it’s called The Bus Gang) who is gonna go oh, sweet, and take over from there. does he take deb to HIS HOUSE? a random cave to recuperate? it’s so wild. to me. I guess they just have to sit there until weaponhead comes in to go WHAT IN THE ABSOLUTE BLAZES IS HAPPENING IN HERE. WHY ARE YOU A PRIMORDIAL BEAST OF DARK MAGIC, PEP. WHY ARE MY COLLEAGUES IN CHAINS. what did you do to spader. oh glob.

#?? why didn’t I post this #insane stream of consciousness. i can’t remember maybe we discussed this already #oh well. I will post it cuz I’ve got nothing else in the queue #maybe I was planning to add a drawing?? #asks #zoomerinaboomercostume #look at these kids. even if pep keeps and masters all the evil magic they still have nowhere to safely go :( #au

[crow-in-springtime]

Horatio in one of those stories where the main character does anything and everything to prevent the death of a loved one.

I just think it would be neat

#me when other people write Horatio being in pain: HOW could you DO THAT to him?! HAS HE NOT SUFFERED ENOUGH 😭😣☹️ #me when I write Horatio being in pain: Teehee 🤭 #sometimes you just gotta break time and space and all of natural law just to be with someone you love #and I know the lesson is always supposed to be “you have to let people go but that doesn’t mean everything is over” #but fuck that I think Horatio could successfully pull it off #autism be damned my boy can love someone so much that he will hold off death itself #<- it was funnier in my head #hamlet #horatio #there’s probably a specific name for this but I can’t remember it at the moment. kinda like wandavision or alice by heart #“I won’t let them move you on / play you like some ghostly pawn / oh we’ll hold the still blue dawn” that sort of thing #well I wouldn’t want Horatio to succeed actually cause then it defeats the whole purpose of the trope as a whole and also I like suffering. #but like you understand. I think. I kinda lost track of what I was saying 7 sentences ago. #“yeah this sounds good post it” someone who should not be allowed internet access after 10 pm or before 7:30 am (me) #god this has been in my drafts for ages and I’ve forgotten what I even meant but I’m sure it was a good coherent idea at one point #ky’s gallery