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keelywolfe · 4 years

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FIC: Winter Makes You Laugh a Little Slower

Summary: Rus is all by himself for the day. Finally.Surely he won't manage to get into trouble.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Brotherly Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Pregnancy, More Angst

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Chapter List

What Will Be, Will Be

Something To Say, But Nothing Comes

Can’t Go On, Thinking Nothing’s Wrong

Seldom All They Seem

Voices Are Heard But Nothing Is Seen

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Read it on AO3

Read it here!

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This morning was probably as alone as Rus had been in weeks. Ever since a little spark showed up to orbit his soul, he felt like he'd been under constant supervision from one person or another. But not today.

Today, his brother was already gone to train with Alphys. Edge was gone, back to his own world to go through his own morning routine that Rus didn’t ask too many questions about and Red wasn’t downstairs stinking up the sofa with his mustard fumes. Guard duty seemed to be over, for now. Red still checked in from time to time to raid the fridge and Rus thought maybe he caught a flash of a tragically emo jacket out of the corner of his socket once or twice, but the danger time was before the souling descended. Once it moved on to baby mode, all that was left was the wait.

(And if Red’s sudden absence was disturbing his peace, niggling thoughts of something he almost remembered, Rus wasn’t gonna dig in too deep. He had plenty of his own shit to worry about without adding Red’s nasty soup du jour)

Yep, all alone—except for the kid who was making a pretty good attempt to give Rus a matching set of bruises on either side of his spinal column. He wasn’t complaining too loudly about it; he’d known what he was signing up for, but damn, the kid would have to take after Edge in the energy department. Sometimes it felt like they were trying to use his rib cage as a jungle gym.

Anywho, now seemed like a perfect opportunity to take advantage of the lack of supervision and head out to take care of something before Rus managed to put it off. Again.

Rus dug through their hall closet, pawing through mittens who’d lost their mate and sandals that never got worn, a tennis racket, the leash for the pet rock. Searching until he found a pair of boots in his size. Normally, Rus alternated between his fuzzy slippers and his sneakers, but then, normally he didn't end up standing in the snow for very long. His morning exercise routine used to be a quick shortcut to his sentry post where his tootsies would be propped up out of the slush as he settled into nap mode.

But since it’d been unanimously decided that he shouldn’t teleport while he was smuggling skittens under his shirt, this trip would have to be made on foot.

Yay.

Wasn’t a quick little stroll around the block, either. Once he got out of Snowdin proper, his path led through the woods. Past all the Buns’ sentry stations with a few quick pauses to scratch behind ears, trying to fend off any excited rabbity enthusiasm. Everyone in Snowdin knew by now, his little butterball belly might not be real obvious with his loose sweatshirt, but he’d told Muffet when he went to pay off his tab, just to explain why he wasn’t stopping in as much.

There was no gossiper like someone with hundreds of spiderlings at their disposal.

So far, seemed like everyone was okay about it. Not that he was thinking anyone was gonna kick them out of town or anything, Monsters didn’t usually roll that way, but it was kinda nice to have it confirmed. His own link in the gossip chain told him the big question buzzing around was who is the daddy. On the Undernet, there was a betting pool and there were a lotta names from some of his old one-nighters on the list.

He really hoped Blue was the one with a hefty bet on ‘other’.

Scrolling through the list only made Rus scoff. It was almost insulting, really. Sex was one thing, one great, messy, fun thing, but did anyone really think he would’ve shared his soul with any of them? Not likely.

(He still had a hard time believing he’d done it with Edge; impulsive, sure, but not usually that impulsive. The memory of it was blurry, pleasure-soaked and sweet, Edge desperately asking and him blindly agreeing, the hot press of souls, the brilliant surge of magic between them)

Seeing the Buns was good, though. Once he’d been taken off sentry duty and toned down on the visits to Muffet’s, he didn’t see them much anymore, and he couldn’t help laughing as all of them hopped over to wriggle excitedly around him. Even Greater Bun scrambled out of their armor in the hopes of more pets.

They were too polite to nose at his brand-new belly, (most of them, anyway, Lesser Bun gave it a hopeful nudge, but sighed sadly when Rus stepped back before he obligingly went back for the normal scritches, teeth chattering happily)

But they all loved little ones of any kind, had to really when they had that many of their own. Bunaressa accepted pats almost solemnly, whispering to him. *I am knitting something for your baby.*

“that’s really sweet of you,” Rus said, honestly. He crouched down where Bunamy was flopped in the snow and gave him a furious scratching behind his long ears while he huffed out a contented groan, “don’t forget, they aren’t gonna have a tail, so only four limbs and a head.”

Both of them laughed in their bunny way even as Rus struggled to stand back up. His belly wasn’t that big yet, but he wasn’t exactly used to having one at all so it threw his balance a little off. He wobbled unsteadily, almost dropping back into the snow.

Bunamy caught his elbow, steadying him, “Careful, there. Do you need us to come along?”

*Yes, we can come along, keep you safe!*

“that’s super nice of you guys, but i’m good,” Rus grimaced. The last thing he wanted was another bodyguard, he’d only just kicked the habit.

Bunno was the only one a little distant, eh, no surprise there. He’d been that way since Rus shut down the pussy factory. There was probably some pun in there about cats and rabbits, but Rus wasn’t much in the mood to figure it out. He left Bunno smoking his carrot, heading further down the path.

Out here, the woods were quieter, the only sound his boots crunching on the frozen path. He went past his own sentry post where no one was currently stationed. Not much to see there and Rus wondered if Alphys would assign him back after the kid was born. He wasn’t sure. He had to work, no option there, he wasn’t about to let Blue be the only one bringing in the G. But he also wasn’t sure yet what they were gonna do about the skitten. He kicked idly at a pinecone as he walked, shoving that thought out of his mind. One thing at a time.

Onward, ho. Through the too-wide bars on the bridge that were almost not too-wide enough for his growing belly. He squeezed between them and earned a hearty kick in his floating rib for his trouble. Seemed like the kid didn’t care for the walls closing in, who could blame ‘em? Rus gave his belly a soothing rub, murmuring, “easy, baby, no more squeezing.”

Until they went home, but eh, that bad news could come up later.

The walk was taking more out of him than he’d expected, and Rus was panting by the time he got to the door, wiping his sweaty forehead on his sleeve before it could freeze to his skull. Probably Red would have a fit if he heard about the lack of hat and gloves, but it turned out building a skitten from scratch made a fella pretty damn hot. There were times Rus felt like steam should be sizzling off the top of his skull whenever he stepped outside and chilly as it was, right now the cold was soothing on his overheated bones.

He dusted snow off one of the steps and sat down, catching his breath even as it fogged out around him. Once he was as comfy as he could be, all things considered, Rus reached back behind his head to rap his knuckles on the door he was leaning against. “knock knock.”

Rus waited, not terribly surprised that there wasn’t an answer. It’d been weeks since he’d come.

The minutes ticked away and Rus reached back, tried again, “knock knock.”

Again, nothing. Rus pulled his lighter out of his pocket, flicking it open and shut absently, the sound of it loud in the quiet. He’d quit smoking, but it felt too strange not to have his lighter with him, the weight of it a familiar, comforting presence when everything around him was strange. He thought about knocking again, wondered idly how long he was planning on sitting here alone with the wind whispering through the trees around him.

Fuck, he wanted a cigarette.

“when you decide to make an appearance, kid, the first thing i’m doing after we shake hands is having a smoke.” Rus flicked the lighter closed decisively. “course edge might have a thing or three to say about that. blue’s already been at me, says since i’ve quit for this long, i should keep it up. edge would probably agree.”

Rus trailed off. Edge. Yeah.

Every time he thought he had things figured out with that guy, Edge threw a curveball for him to fumble. Like the past few nights, going from sleeping in his bed to putting it to a better use. He hadn’t really been expecting it considering that Edge hadn’t made a move on him since he’d learned about the baby. Thinking back on Edge walking in on him three fingers deep was a little embarrassing now, but hey, it got results.

Now Rus only wished he knew what it all meant.

“curveball, yeah,” Rus sighed. He slipped a hand under his sweatshirt and the cold bones of his hand against the firm swell of encasing magic made him waffle between flinching away and leaning into the soothing cool of it. The baby stirred under his touch, shifting inside him in that weird, alien way it had. “see? you know what i mean.”

Rus had been perfectly happy with his life before they got the machine working. Okay, maybe happy was an exaggeration but the point still stood. He’d been getting by, content to spend his days sleeping at sentry stations and his nights behind Muffet’s bar, finding ways to feel alive stay awake. It was fine, Blue never said a word about it except to scold him a little on mornings he stayed out too late, because his bro was awesome that way.

Then he met Edge and his whole daily schedule was fucked along with him.

“completely fucked up,” Rus sighed, then he winced, rubbing a thumb along the stretching pseudo-skin where the itch sometimes threatened to drive him crazy. “don’t make that your first word, okay, papa edge would never let me live it down.”

He hadn’t even liked Edge when he first met him. The way he dared to show off as a smug, self-righteous prick when he was touting around that much LV. Took a little while for Rus to pull his head out of his pelvic cavity enough to recognize that maybe someone from murder world might need that kind of control over themselves, because fuck knew there wasn’t much else he could control.

“he tries, though,” Rus murmured. A flutter of movement under his hand and Rus nodded firmly. “that’s right, your papa tries so damned hard.”

Once he got that figured out, didn’t take too long for Rus to decide that maybe a little narcissism was okay, especially when it let you sleep with your smokin’ hot alternate for another world. That Edge went along with it was the real surprise; Rus liked to think he was pretty irresistible when he actually kicked on the charm, but he hadn’t actually expected it to work. That first time, Edge’s hands were shaking when he cupped Rus’s face, leaning in for a kiss—

Rus shifted, a different sort of heat warming his pelvis. Yeah, time to think about something else, damn, why did being pregnant go hand and crotch with being horny all the damn time?

But whatever, he’d been okay with doing things the way Edge wanted it. Casual. Occasional. Rus didn’t really do relationships either, thanks. The couple times one of his part-timers put in an offer for a full-time position, Rus knocked them off his list.

Until Edge.

They’d never even talked about what they were.

“not even sure there are words, kid,” Rus sighed and the baby kicked in commiseration. “friends with benefits? only, i’m not sure we even got the friends part.”

It was something, though. Once they got going, Rus found that nights in the alley behind Muffet’s with bricks rough against his back while someone fucked him against the wall wasn’t appealing anymore and neither was getting the knees of his pants soaked with snowmelt while he moaned around someone’s cock.

What he got from Edge was a lot less often, but Rus wanted it, so much more.

“quality over quantity, kid, make a note,” Rus murmured. The lighter clacked shut in agreement.

He wondered if Edge knew. They’d never talked about it and it was pretty obvious Rus wasn’t sleeping around now. Even if anyone out there found his shift from stick figure to pumpkin appealing, the state of their new nightly entertainment was proof of that much.

But then, Edge also never questioned that the baby was theirs.

“wasn’t supposed to go this way.” The words sounded too loud in the stillness but they were true. A few random nights were supposed to be all Edge had to offer. That was fine, wasn’t like Rus was some kind of hot catch either.

Until the skitten showed up and knocked them off the rails.

“not that it’s your fault,” Rus told his belly reassuringly. “you didn’t ask for us to drag you into this.” It was always the innocents who got screwed up by other people’s bullshit, wasn’t it. Screwed up, fucked over, left behind, left alone. “not you, though, kid. i’m gonna take care of you. we will. we’re gonna be good. i promise.”

He could taste salt-sweet tears at the back of his throat, stupid fucking pregnancy maudlin shit. Rus reached back with a clenched fist, pounding it against the door, “knock, knock!”

He almost fell off the fucking step when deep voice replied, muffled through the door, “Who’s there?”

Rus closed his sockets, exhaling shakily. His voice sounded normal enough, pitched to be heard through the door, “otto.”

“Otto who?”

“otto tell you i didn’t mean to be away so long.”

They both laughed and if Rus was a little too loud, giddy with relief, his pal through the door said nothing.

They’d spent plenty of afternoons like this, calling jokes back and forth to each other until Rus was practically rolling in the snow, the miasma of apathy that always seemed to hang threateningly over him blown away.

Rus sighed, his breath clouding the air. Today wasn’t gonna be one of those days, but he felt like he’d owed his friend this much. For a promise he wasn’t gonna be able to keep.

“listen. i’m sorry it’s been a while since i was able to visit,” Rus told him. Even through the door he could hear his companion shifting his weight as he sat and he wondered, not for the first time, exactly what sort of Monster was hiding in those ruins. “but this isn’t a return to the status quo. i wanted to give you a heads up i might not be able to make it back for a while.”

“Is something wrong?” Concerned, yeah, that much Rus expected. His pal always struck him as being someone’s dad. Maybe someone who used to be someone’s dad; there was an undercurrent of sadness in his deep voice that no amount of puns could chase away.

“depends on your definition of wrong,” Rus admitted. “i’m...uh...well, i kinda traded knock knocks for knocked up.”

“You’re pregnant?”

Rus grinned and said teasingly, “you sound surprised.” Fuck that, he sounded shocked, and Rus was kinda curious to hear why.

His buddy didn’t let him down. “I am. I knew all skeleton monsters can carry, but, and please accept my apologies for assuming, you didn’t speak of anyone in your life except your brother.”

That seemed like a great question to avoid, but luckily, he had another good one to latch onto. “how did you know i’m a skeleton monster?”

“Your accent. Skeletons have a certain hollow ring in their voices, I’m assuming because it echoes within your skulls.”

Rus sat up straight, turning to stare at the door behind him. An accent, really? Fuck, he’d never noticed it, maybe cause he was used to the sound? “you serious?”

“Of course not.” Rus huffed out a laugh, settling back down as his pal went on, “It’s the puns you make. A skele-ton of them. Even then, I wasn’t certain, but you seem to have confirmed it. How far along are you?”

It was the sort of question he’d been avoiding with anyone in town, but out here with a door between them, it was easier somehow to say. “soul descended a couple weeks ago and by the way, that sucked, no one told me it was gonna suck, i’m gonna write my own damn pregnancy book when this is over and the first chapter is gonna describe all the ways it sucks.”

From the other side of the door came a sound of pure commiseration. “Ah, but it’ll be worth it in the end, when you’re holding your child in your arms.” A pause, then hesitantly, “Are you keeping the child?”

“hell yeah, i am,” Rus grumbled. “i’m not digging through all this cereal not to have a prize at the end.”

“Yes, of course. Of course you are.” There was something odd in his pal’s voice but before Rus could ask, his tone changed entirely. “You should head home. There’s a storm coming.”

Rus frowned, glancing upward. The air in between the ground and the cave ceiling was as clear as Snowdin ever got. “you sure?”

“No jokes this time, I’m afraid. I can feel it.”

Snowstorms in the underground were caused by magic, not any sort of weather pattern. That his pal could feel that incoming surge of power was another clue about them, but now wasn’t the time for games. Bad storms were rare, but they could be dangerous as hell. Rus pushed up awkwardly to his feet, struggling to get properly upright. “i’ll try to stop by after the kid is born, yeah?”

He never could’ve guessed his pal’s reply, “I think it would be best if you didn’t. Take care, my friend. Goodbye.”

“wait, what? hang on!” He could hear movement behind the door, the sound of a heavy bulk moving, standing, walking away. He pounded on the door until his fist ached. “come on!

There was no reply, but Rus didn’t really expect one. He scrubbed a hand over his face, impatiently brushing away the dampness that was starting to leak from his sockets. Fuck it, the snow was starting to fall, he didn’t have time to be crybabying. Rus turned on his heel and started back towards Snowdin, let his long legs eat up the distance.

It was no use. By the time he was past the bridge, the snowfall was constant. It was already getting hard to see, there was no way he was gonna make it back to town, not when he couldn’t see his own hand in front of his face.

What he could see was his sentry station looming up ahead and Rus managed to wade to it through the rising snowdrifts. It wasn’t much, but it was partially enclosed, he wouldn’t be getting buried at least.

The chair inside was a spindly piece of junk and Rus wasn’t about to trust it with his new weight. He went all the way to the back of the shelter, sitting down in a corner that was least touched by the blowing wind. He tucked his hands into his pockets, tugged up the hood of his sweatshirt. A quick check on his phone told Rus what he already knew; the storm was cutting off his signal, he wouldn’t be sending messages anytime soon and he hadn’t told anyone where he was going because he wanted some time on his own.

Well, he was sure as fuck getting his wish now, wasn’t he.

He wasn’t actually too worried; the sentry post made for a pretty crap shelter, but he had some food in his inventory, his craving for spider donuts was endless. The storm would probably blow over by morning and then he could head for home.

No, what worried him was Blue and Edge not knowing where he was. The last thing he wanted was the two of them out in the storm looking for him. Wasn’t much he could do other than fret about it and Rus was sure he’d be doing that plenty.

A couple hours later Rus wasn’t so confident. The wind was howling ferociously, whipping through the little sentry post and carrying with it painful specks of sleety snow. Rus gave up on his pockets and pulled his arms into his sweatshirt, wrapping them around his belly to offer whatever meager warmth he could. It was so cold, so much worse than he’d been expecting. This storm was a much worse tantrum than Snowdin usually offered, no gentle snowfall here, but howling wind pounding against his little shelter.

Rus still had his lighter, a heavy weight in his hoodie pocket, but the only thing around to burn was the sentry post. Probably be a poor life choice to burn down the roof over his head.

No, over their head. The baby was wriggling vigorously; their souls were still attuned, and they were picking up on his distress.

“shhh, it’s okay, kiddo,” Rus mumbled through numbed teeth. “it’ll be fine. we’ll be okay.”

He suddenly remembered Red’s rough voice telling him that his soul would let go of the souling before letting his HP drop to zero. It hadn’t been the comfort Red seemed to think it would be, Rus didn’t want either of them to…to let go. He curled up tighter, murmuring soft reassurances to his baby, who surely couldn’t hear a word.

He was too cold, teeth chattering, his shivering constant; he needed to do something.

The chair.

Rus staggered to his feet and picked it up with numb hands, smashing it down on the floor. It splintered apart instantly, fragments scattering. Rus gathered them up awkwardly, kicking them into a pile. There wasn’t much in the station, not even his usual scattering of honey bottles. Blue must’ve cleaned up one day. In his inventory, all he were the spider donuts, each wrapped in their own square of wax paper.

He crumpled those up to use as a sort of kindling, tucking the paper balls around the splintered wood. For a minute, the lighter refused to work, the blowing wind and his frozen hands working against him.

“come on, you motherfucker,” Rus muttered. He held it in both hands, thumbed down on the rasp as hard as he could and a wavering flame leapt up.

The paper caught easily, Rus shielding the flame as best he could with his body until the broken bits of the chair began to smolder. The warmth was pathetic, wavering outward and Rus hunched desperately over it. His hands were so cold the pain was starting to fade, but he couldn’t worry about that. He curled as close to the fire as he could, trying as much as possible to direct that heat to his belly.

“sorry, kid,” Rus mumbled. He was so cold. “i always was a fuck up, don’t know why i thought this time’d be different.” He tipped his skull back so the tears he could feel forming didn’t slide down to freeze on his face, instead tasting them on the back of his tongue, nauseatingly sweet.

At first, he thought the sound was only the wind, howling in the distance. Slowly, Rus started to realize it wasn’t from the storm but from something getting closer, something living.

Something living that whipped open the little door on the side of the sentry station, letting in a painful spray of snow and cold but also a huge body, ducking and turning sideways to even get inside.

“greater bun?” Rus croaked out. He wasn’t entirely convinced he wasn’t imagining this, his mind painting him a rescue that wouldn’t be coming.

Greater Bun wasn’t real chatty on a good day. He grunted once, happily, his large pink nose wriggling as he scooped Rus into hefty arms, carrying him outside into the storm. Where a sled was waiting, Bunamy at the lead with Lesser Bun and Bunaressa harnessed behind him.

Greater Bun settled him into the sled into a nest of blankets before abandoning his armor, diving into the sled to lay against Rus. He burbled out an encouraging whine and Rus gratefully buried both hands into that heavy, silky fur, nearly crying at the aching warmth.

A screech from Bunamy cut through the howling winds and they were off.

The ride back to Snowdin wasn’t as fast as a shortcut but it felt pretty damn close. Long Bun legs leapt easily through the snowfall, the sled careening after it. Rus drew a blanket over his face to protect it from the slashing wind, clinging fiercely to Greater Bun. He didn’t protest the grip, snuggling in close and setting his head on Rus’s knee. The warmth was lulling and Rus didn’t even notice falling asleep, only jolting awake as the sled came to a stop.

He looked up blearily, taking in the blinking Gyftmas lights from his own front porch through the heavily falling snow and…oh. His brother was standing with an expression of such concern Rus would only swallow against his guilt. Next to him was Edge and the fury in his expression made Rus cringe. He didn’t have a single fucking excuse, he’d risked their kid with his own stupidity, not even bothering to leave damned note to say where he was going when a dozen or more careless post-its surrounded a sock in his own living room.

“i’m sorry,” Rus began, miserably, already knowing Edge wasn’t going to forgive him. Why the fuck should he. Rus deserved that anger, deserved whatever choice words Edge used to rip him open, idiot, fucking idiot, and—

Being scooped out of the sled, blankets and all, into Edge’s arms where he was held with fierce tenderness was probably not anything he deserved, but fuck if Rus wasn’t gonna take it. He wrapped both arms around Edge’s neck and held on tight, ignored the warm tears he could feel seeping down his cold face. Fuck, why was crying all he could do right lately?

“Never worry me like that again!” Edge growled against the side of his skull, but it wasn’t anger Rus heard. It was a plea, desperate and thickly said.

“i’ll try,” Rus whispered. The world whirled around, Edge carrying him towards the house. A crowd was gathering, voices from Snowdin, congratulating the Buns on a rescue well done, wondering curiously and a little too loud about the skeleton carrying Rus away.

Welp. Wasn’t much question of who the baby daddy was anymore. He really did hope Blue won the betting pool.

The second they were in the house, Edge peeled the snow-crusted blankets away, kneeling to help Rus off with his boots. Rus tried to help and wobbled unsteadily almost doing a somersault right over Edge’s head. Edge braced him even as Rus caught his uncertain balance. The baby squirmed, a weird rolling movement that made Rus wince, “don’t worry, the baby is fine.”

“Are you fine?” Edge countered, glaring up at him.

That made him blink. “um. yeah? i really wasn’t out there too long, probably get to keep all my toes.”

He waggled them in Edge’s grip, wincing as Edge rubbed them firmly, checking each one for feeling. “That’s not funny.”

“sorry,” Rus said, softly and Edge paused, his head dropping briefly. He looked back up at Rus, the crimson of his eye lights softened.

“No, don’t apologize. I don’t mean to yell,” Edge said heavily. “It wasn’t your fault. Blue said the storm came on unexpectedly and you couldn’t know how long the walk would be. You’re too accustomed shortcutting everywhere, your perception on distances is probably skewed.”

“must be.” Rus agreed. Edge was so agitated, he probably would have agreed to anything. His hands moving over Rus restlessly, checking toes and fingers for frostbite, brushing over the slight ridge of his nasal canal, the delicate rims of his sockets.

“You seem fine,” Edge murmured distractedly. His fingertips were sharp, his touch careful as it drifted along Rus’s cheekbone.

Rus swallowed hard and managed, “i must remind you of red, huh?”

That snapped Edge out of it. He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“cause i passed mustard.”

Yeah, that was the face of someone who was regretting a lot of life choices.

Except, maybe not, because he was cupping Rus's face in both his gorgeously warm hands, leaning in to brush their mouths together. Edge always smelled faintly spicy, the kind that made Rus think not of tacos, but gingerbread cookies, fresh from the oven. That kiss moved to brush across his forehead instead, affectionately, testing his temperature as much as—

(affection? does he get to call it that?)

— as anything.

Then Edge sighed and drew away. “Sit down, get wrapped up,” he ordered. “There’s soup heating on the stove and I’ll get you some tea."

Never let it be said Rus couldn’t follow orders after he nearly died out in a snowstorm. He settled on the sofa, dragged the pile of blankets over him and it was only when he was tucking them in that he realized Edge hadn’t even touched the little rounded pot of his belly. All that concern had been directed at him.

Huh.

The door opening and his brother coming in blew that thought away as Rus was absurdly caught in a different storm, this one of his brother scolding him vigorously, “What were you thinking, Pappy, why did you want to go out to that nasty Sentry station anyway, what would you have done if you saw a Human!”

He let Blue ramble on. His bro didn’t even pause when Rus snagged him by the scarf and reeled him in, tucking his warm little body next to him like his own bony hot water bottle.

Edge came out with soup and tea, and they all sat together as Blue turned on the television, bundled in blankets, and it was like…like…

Like family.

But the thought of family made Rus wonder where Red was. He should be here too, there was plenty of room on the sofa. His memory of the souling descending was vague and clouded with pain, but there was something there, something Red told him, what was it?

Eh, he was too tired to figure it out today. But he stuck a note on his mental fridge, that he was gonna need to corner Red. Just as soon as he figured out the questions.

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #pregnancy fic

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mutantdatingproblems · 6 years

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We Got Tagged

Hey everyone, we got tagged by @localmutantlesbian in this mutant ask thing so here we go (as always Z will be using bolded font and Vex will use italics and if we’re both saying it it’ll be both bolded and in italics, just so ya know who’s who in our answers if ya don’t wanna read our names every time). Here we go!

1. What’s your codename/mutant name?

Z: I can’t decide honestly, I’ve considered something simple like “Shifter” and crazy shit like “Dragon Queen” but they’ve all been shot down so far either by me or by Prof.X or one of the other Profs or my friends for being lame

V: This is a question I hate because I totally would’ve gone with like “Multiple Girl” but Multiple Man has that and they won’t let me pick something in a dead or nerd language (even though I think it’d be super cool) so I also don’t have one. We don;t go into the field much yet though so it doesn’t really matter yet.

2. Age?

Z: 19 going on 20, birthday is in May

V: Same except my birthday is in June

3. Gender and pronouns?

Z: Genderfluid with a current lean towards nonbinary so they/them or she/her or he/him all work for me, I don’t really care

V: Genderqueer, They/Them or She/Her please

4. What is your mutation(s)?

Z: Shapeshifting and mild hydrokinesis and is ADHD a mutation? Cause I swear it gives me superpowers

V: Creating multiples of myself and enhanced strength, speed, and senses. And yeah ADHD should definitely count as a power.

5. Are you a member of any mutant group (X-Men, The Mutant Underground, The Brotherhood of Mutants, Morlocks, etc)?

Z: X-Men in training at Xavier's (But I have friends in The Brotherhood)

V: Ditto

6. Got any physical mutations?

Z: Yeah, although mine are mostly by choice seeing as I’m a shapeshifter. I’m fond of my claws and fangs and tails and scales and horns and freaky eyes for everyday use

V: Nope, not really.

7. When did your powers manifest?

Z: Around 13

V: 12 and a half

8. What is your favourite thing about your powers?

Z: Everything. I love my powers, I love that I can be anything and do anything if I put my mind to it. It makes me who I am honestly, I don’t know who I’d be without my powers. Hell I’d probably have killed myself if my powers hadn’t manifested when they did I hated myself so much back then. Of course being at Xavier’s and meeting V and my other friends helped too. But yeah I love my powers and how they make me feel.

V: Ditto honestly, my powers help me learn so much and so much faster than I used to be able to, the focus I gain from my clones alone is a life saver when I have to do anything I find boring (which is a lot because Inattentive ADHD sucks royally). The enhanced senses and stuff are pretty awesome too, nothing better than losing your favorite pen under a couch and being able to lift the couch over your head ta get it back. I wouldn’t trade my powers for anything in the world.

9. Biggest pet peeve related to being a mutant?

Z: Assholes being assholes to us, assholes who only approve of human-passing mutants who think we should be grateful they even tolerate that much, not being able to find good shapeshifter friendly clothing that still looks cool and comes in plus sizes, and uppity fuckwad mutants who judge others on powers or looks or anything else because god dammit we need to stick together and support each other. I could go on because I have a lot but I won’t or this’ll take forever.

V: The asshole issues that Z pointed out but also when my powers go outta control cause I lose my cool or something and I have ta calm down ta find control again and it’s really hard, or when I sneeze cause of allergies and I accidentally sneeze a clone out...it’s embarrassing. Also accidentally hurting people with my enhanced strength....I hate that too

10. Ever been to space or another dimension?

Z: Yeah by accident.....it involved tequila....lots of tequila....

V: Nope

11. Do you wear a costume (BE HONEST)

Z: Sorta? I have ta make a lot of my own clothes cause of my physical mutations and shapeshifting so sometimes they come out looking very costumey and I am fond of leather which doesn’t help. I guess my battle gear counts? Loose black cargo pants (need all the pockets for gadgets and snacks cause shapeshifting requires a fuckton of calories and effort), black tank top (lightweight body armor actually but designed ta look like a tank top), arm warmers (again armor, they cover from my wrists to halfway up my upper arm, they’re also black). black leather fingerless gloves, combat boots (with knives hidden in the toes, also black except I change the laces all the time cause I like making them funky colors and designs), and a black leather weapons belt that holds at least one stun gun, two daggers/medium sized knives, and in some cases a sword because I like it. All of it’s like....well for lack of a better term...enchanted ta survive my shifts (including into dragon form) so it doesn’t rip or tear or anything. Apparently when I shift it kinda just disappears into a pocket dimension and then reappears on me when I shift back...I dunno how it works, ask Scarlet Witch she hooked me up. And by the way the weapons are because sometimes if I’m too drained ta shift I gotta go hand-to hand.

V: Yeah kinda, it’s my battle gear too. Navy cargo pants (I keep extra snacks for Z), black t-shirt, black wrist guards, black boots with purple laces and skulls and stuff painted on them, purple weapons belt holding a stun gun, throwing knives (like a frick ton, I also store more in my pants), more knives of varying sizes, smoke bombs (great for sneak attacks, just throw to confuse enemy and then attack from all sides with clones. I have flash bombs too), and a couple different versions of brass knuckles, and then I wear opaque black sunglasses too because I like them. Oh and yes my shirt is body armor like Z’s is of course, and my boots are steel toe.

12. Are you a minority in another way (race, gender, disability, etc)?

Z: Genderfluid Panromantic Demisexual who’s got mad depression, anxiety, ADHD, and fainting spells and I’m Polyamorous

V: Genderqueer, Queer in general, demisexual and polyamorous also with severe anxiety as well as dsycalculia and ADHD

13. Coolest power you’ve seen?

Z: I love Storm’s powers, but Scarlet Witch is pretty cool too

V: I concur with Storm but I’m also fond of Z’s powers cause watching your friend turn into a dragion is really cool

14. Favourite mutant artist?

Z: Dunno

V: Ditto

15. How would your friends describe you?

Z: Loud, proud, queer as fuck, angry, musical, a water baby, a literal and metaphorical dragon, bad influence, pun queen, kind of insane, kinky, and V’s shoulder devil/inner crazy bitch.

V: Quiet, secretly vindictive, punk af, dorky, wordy, easily distracted, helpful, accidental group therapist, mom friend, and Z’s conscience/shoulder angel.

16. Enhanced/powered person you most want to meet?

Z: Deadpool, I always miss him when he visits and it sucks

V: Spiderman......I just think he seem really cool

17. Feelings about mutant registration?

Z: No, just no. That’s how they end up rounding us up and killing us all. If it’s an operation run by us mutants ourselves as a way to work together and support each other and offer aid to mutants and help mutant youth who’ve been kicked out of their homes and stuff like that then sure. But not some government list of us all, fuck no.

V: Yeah ditto on that.

18. #MutantandProud or #WeWantACure?

Z&V: #MutantandProud

Z&V: Again unless it’s something regulated by mutants for mutants, no. Because it should be a mutants choice whether or not they want their powers because some people get royally screwed and end up with powers they hate because they are dangerous or something like that. It shouldn’t be something the government or anyone else can decide, it should always be the mutants individual choice.

19. How did you choose your codename?

Z: Don’t have one yet but when I do choose it’ll probably be like...by throwing darts at a bunch of names I like or a coin flip or something

V: Don’t have one yet, I’ll tell you how I chose it when I figure one out.

20. OPTIONAL: what caused your powers to manifest?

Z: Got mad, grew talons and fangs and scales cause I was reading about mythological creatures earlier, was not pretty. It happened when I was alone though so that was a plus. (I was mad because of a text from my boyfriend at the time). The hydrokinesis thing I figured out after I got to Xavier’s...was outside in the courtyard....got catcalled by some asshole student....wished I could dump water on his head....fountain water flew up and over and dumped gallons on his head....it was awesome.

V: I sneezed at the dinner table and three clones shot out of me....the strength and speed stuff I figured out at school in gym class when suddenly I was kicking ass at track and field after always sucking at it my whole life....The senses I figured out when I could hear waaaayyyyy too much noise everywhere and everything smelled waaayyy too strong and suddenly I could see without my glasses (yeah I used ta have and need glasses, I don’t anymore but if I did they’d be cats-eye style like a vintage librarian because reasons).

Tagging: We’re not really sure who ta tag so if you wanna do it then feel free ta do it and tag us!

(And thank you again to @localmutantlesbian for tagging us! We loved doing this!)

~Mod Z

~Mod Vex

P.S Wanna know more about us? Check out our previous “Meet the Mods” posts or check out our “Meet the Mods” page on the blog!

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clairelutra · 7 years

Text

MERRY CHRISTMAS/HAPPY HANUKAH/HAPPY HOLIDAYS @edendaphne! i’m your backup filler for the @mlsecretsanta this holiday season ♥

i was flailing a bit for an idea of what you might like, and then i remembered this fantastic piece of ladrien you drew (and the awesome idea that came with it :D) so i thought i’d write something based off of that. i hope you enjoy! ♥♥♥

(@mirthaculous went above and beyond to make this readable, and at 1am, no less ;A; one day i will pay her back, this i swear (9′-’)9)

EDIT: SHIT I FORGOT TO CREDIT @sixsaltysweets / @howdoyousix she helped out a ton with early stage flow betaing god bless ♥♥♥ THANK YOU RUX ;O;

It figured that the one day Chat had begged out of the signings was the one day an akuma crashed the con.

"All this," Plagg complained in his ear as Adrien helped direct the panicking crowd. "All this just for a piece of paper someone scribbled on."

Adrien's own 'piece of paper' burned in his pocket, warm with the memory of Ladybug's fingers brushing his as she handed it to him, so he didn't comment. Instead he nudged his grumpy kwami back into his shirt and continued to usher the out-of-town con-goers from towards the exit, wincing at the cacophony.

It was amazing how much three years of constant attacks could desensitize a person to surprise supervillains --- and how much panic they could instill in someone who wasn't desensitized.

This supervillain, surprisingly enough, seemed to be a fan of his. One who'd been terribly sad and upset that Chat Noir hadn't been at the con on the one day she'd gotten tickets, and who was now angrily ripping up the venue with her 'Love Ray' --- which Adrien was still kind of confused about, because the rest of her ensemble was very much Ladybug-themed, and Ladybug certainly didn't have any sort of ray weapon.

(There were a few other things he was confused about, like what on earth had Ladybug said to make one of his fans that jealous --- and it was definitely jealousy of Ladybug that had akumatized Lovebug, if the tearful shouts of give him up, Ladybug, he's mine! were anything to go by.

For that matter, how on earth had Chat inspired that kind of obsessive adoration in anyone? He was under the impression that his media image was that of the dorky sidekick.

This akuma was a puzzle from start to finish.)

Thankfully, confusing or not, Ladybug was doing a good job of keeping the akuma distracted away from the fleeing crowds, both of them engaged in the closest thing either of them could get to a full aerial battle while Adrien helped a costumed boy his age carry an overstuffed swag bag to the gates.

"Mer-merçi," the boy stuttered in heavily accented French as they passed the decorative statues that marked one of the entrances.

Adrien switched to his own accented English. "No problem. Go that way." He paused as he pointed, internally scrambling for his particles, and then added, "There are akuma shelters there."

The boy heaved a massive sigh of relief, sagging under the weight of his cosplay. "Thanks, man."

Any further commentary was lost under a new wave of screams from inside the gates. Concerned, Adrien left the boy with a pat on his least-armored shoulder and plunged back into the fray.

The screams were apparently caused by Lovebug's attempts to tear an arch down on the fleeing crowd, which Ladybug was now holding steady while the akuma zipped away to terrorize another group.

Adrien looked up at the dangling arch and winced, wishing for his staff. If he had it, he could prop up the arch or occupy Lovebug while Ladybug put things back in order --- or, if he'd had his suit, he could have helped keep things in order so Ladybug would be free to chase the akuma down.

Both were sadly out of his reach right now --- transforming in this chaos would only lead to disaster --- but he could help in other ways.

It only took ten seconds of hurried instruction to some of the calmer folks (locals, probably) to gather a group of people to support and lower the arch. Ladybug caught his eye as he joined in, flashing him a grateful little smile that made his heart leap.

He risked taking one of his hands away from the twisted metal frame long enough to snap off a salute, flustered delight bubbling in his stomach when she took a moment to return it before she leapt off.

Someone across from him clicked their tongue while he ducked to hide his overheated face, grumbling, "Lucky," just loud enough for him to hear. Adrien resisted the urge to chuckle.

You have no idea...

It didn't take long at all to settle the arch on the ground. By the time it was done, the square was mostly clear, with only a few stragglers beelining for the gates. Both hero and akuma were nowhere to be seen.

Right, thought Adrien, looking around as the helpers dispersed, now to find a place to--- whose kid is that?

It was hard to tell with little kids, but Adrien was pretty sure the girl couldn't have been more than six. She was huddling at the edge of the square and looking around with the most heartbreakingly worried look he'd ever seen.

He was moving before he thought about it, following the wall (he didn't want to get caught out in the open when the battle came back around) in a power walk that was half-run, not wanting to scare the girl but moving quick in his own worry.

He'd barely cleared half the distance when Lovebug appeared over the far side of the square, a sliver of baby pink against the clear blue sky approaching at high speed.

Adrien broke into a run.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the akuma land in the middle of the abandoned square. It had been divested of its ray gun, and was holding its yo-yo like a throwing stone, looking around for a new advantage.

Adrien could sense the moment it spotted the child, and swore his heart stopped.

One frantic scan revealed an abandoned flagpole in his path. Adrien barely stopped to scoop it up before he was breaking into a full sprint, holding the bare end over his shoulder like a baseball bat.

He got there just in time.

The yo-yo was thrown to capture, not harm, but he still managed to track it well enough to hit it like a ball. The shock travelled up his unprotected arms to the shoulder as the weapon whirled back to its owner.

Keeping the pole high, Adrien put himself between the child (who'd been knocked down by the clash and was now sniffling quietly, staring up at the two of them with large, teary eyes) and the akuma, who was clutching its pink-and-white weapon to its pink-and-white chest and snarling.

"Oh man," he panted, forcing a smile and taunting out of pure habit. "Chat Noir likes kidnappers now? That's really ap-paw-ling."

He was just Adrien, weak and human and civilian with only his wit and a flagpole to protect this kid from a supervillain who'd given every indication that it was hellbent on taking his partner out of the game --- who may have already taken his partner out of the game --- but there was no way Chat could turn up here, not unless he wanted to blow his identity right out of the stratosphere.

...He really hoped the akuma hadn't taken Ladybug out of the game.

Lovebug curled its lip at him. "And who are you supposed to be, wannabe?"

Adrien, dressed in his everyday clothes, let the tip of the flagpole dip in spite of himself. "Are you really taking shots about fashion at a con?"

This, oddly, seemed to infuriate it. It wound back its throw with a twitching motion and snapped, "Who cares about clothes, copycat?" before firing it off.

Adrien had the time to realize, oh oops, it was the cat puns, before he was tangling the yo-yo with his flagpole and engaging in a game of tug of war with a magically enhanced fangirl.

...It was, perhaps, not the best decision he'd ever made.

"Are you saying you don't judge a cat by its fur?" he said, ignoring the pesky little voice of his self-preservation. It was a lot louder when he wasn't transformed. "Be-claws that what it sounds like you're doing to me. I could totally be that kitten you're smitten with, for all mew know."

Right, said the voice of self-preservation, which sometimes it sounded like Ladybug and sometimes like Nathalie, but usually just sounded like Plagg. Because antagonizing the magically enhanced fangirl sounds like a better idea.

Even so, the spasm that crossed the akuma's face was incredibly satisfying --- like a very small, very contained detonation of pure rage.

"You little---!!"

Yyyep, Adrien was still dead.

"Adrien?!"

---or not?

Adrien looked up.

Ladybug was perched on one of the gates, yo-yo held at the ready and a very strange look on her face as she stared at the tableau.

Adrien, dressed in just his blue jeans and t-shirt and playing tug of war with a magically enhanced fangirl to protect a small child, had nothing to say for himself. It was only a small comfort that the akuma, who was on a jealous rampage over a certified bumbling dork who was very publicly in love with someone else, while playing tug of war with a civilian over a child, probably didn't have much to say for itself either.

The child, the only truly blameless one there, lit up at the sight of the heroine.

"Ladybug!" she squeaked, incidentally giving voice to Adrien's exact reaction whenever he saw said heroine.

His own (voiced), "Ladybug," was both far more reserved and far more relieved, but given that he'd already embarrassed himself pretty hard asking for her autograph earlier, he figured he was entitled to a little dignity.

Lovebug looked rather like it wished nobody had any dignity. "...Ladybug."

"Hey, Ladybug!" said the little girl, who had perked right up at her arrival and was now hiding behind Adrien's leg. "Where's Chat?"

"Yeah, Ladybug," Lovebug mocked bitterly, glove creaking around its yo-yo line. "Where's Chat?"

Ladybug's gaze flitted from the young child's look of expectant hopefulness to the akuma's look of condensed hatred and landed on Adrien most-definitely-not-Chat-Noir Agreste, who was holding a metal pole and pretending to be a hero like an idiot.

Ladybug then smiled uncomfortably and said, "Well, I'm not really sure, but don't worry. I can take care of this."

(The fanboy in Adrien squealed.

Ladybug was just really cool, okay?)

The akuma, shockingly, was not of the same opinion. It detangled its weapon from Adrien's makeshift staff, murder in its eyes.

Jumping to the ground behind it, Ladybug dropped into a battle pose. She caught Adrien's eye over the villain's shoulder and mouthed run!

Adrien didn't need to be told twice.

Dropping down on one knee, he scooped an arm under the little girl, hoisted her onto his hip, and took off running.

It was much, much easier to get to the gate than it had been before; with Lovebug distracted and Love-Ray-less, and no shifting, fleeing crowds, the path was clear.

But carrying a child as he ran was more of a drag than Adrien had thought it would be, in the most literal sense. Levering buses and carrying large stone statues as Chat had been far easier than this. His thighs burned, ankles straining under the weight, and he was completely out of breath by the time he delivered her to the gate. He set the girl down and was barely able to usher her through before he had to stagger back, hands on his knees.

Gasping, Adrien turned, intending to do one more sweep of the makeshift fighting ring to make sure nobody had accidentally been left behind. But just as he did, the decorative gate statues --- seven-meter-tall crying angels --- tilted behind him, silently enough to be unnoticed until they collapsed in an ear-splitting crash.

Adrien yelped, ducked, and covered, waiting until bits of cement shrapnel stopped stinging his back before he surveyed the damage with trepidation.

His way out was completely blocked.

Lovebug had somehow toppled the statues one on top of the other. If Adrien wanted to get out, he'd have to spend a worrying amount of time helpless and exposed as he crawled over them.

Which wasn't too bad, actually --- he didn't need to exit through the gate. All he needed to do was avoid the akuma for long enough to find a nook and transform.

That was easy enough, right?

Wrong, said the magically indestructible string winding tight around his middle.

Adrien was knocked clean off his feet.

What happened next was a confusing clatter of snapshots: Lovebug's scrapbook hole-punch eyes glittering as it held him off the ground by his shirt collar, Ladybug's wordless noise of fury, the ancient wad of gum stuck to the cracks of the cobblestone he landed on, 'Bug and 'Bug locked in something that may have been battle, but could also have been especially furious interpretive dance...

Adrien rolled, head spinning (vertigo was among the things Plagg protected him from, apparently), and managed to get his feet under him, intent on making his getaway.

Building 14 looked like a good place --- big, already a little banged up, had a back door he could say Chat made it in through --- and Adrien managed to actually take a few steps before getting arrested again.

Lovebug didn't even have the grace to announce its presence; it just wrapped its hands around his neck and used him as a meat shield.

Scrabbling at its grip, Adrien choked, the world greying in the corners of his eyes and pressure building in the base of his skull, very much not in any nook where he could safely transform.

He pried his heavy eyelids open just in time to catch Ladybug's furious snarl as she dodged around him, and then he was free, on his knees on the ground rubbing his burning throat and trying to blink the stars out of his eyes, unsure if he dared to get up and run again.

When he finally looked up, his decision was made: Ladybug was now also on the ground, trussed up with Lovebug murmuring to her as it reached for her earrings.

One split second of tunnelling vision and white-hot panic, and Adrien decided that the nook could wait.

His lady needed him now.

Body-slamming Lovebug was kind of startling because he hadn't realized he'd started to move until he was already there. But then Ladybug was tumbling out of her binds and grabbing his arm, hissing at him to stay behind her, and Adrien rolled with it as best he could.

Fighting without Plagg's help wasn't ideal, but he didn't have any alternative. Gripping the flagpole in both hands, he widened his stance and settled in for the long haul.

Just Adrien would have to do.

To his utter surprise, Just-Adrien, armed with only a flagpole and his wit, actually did do.

It was hard --- punishingly so, he'd never had more appreciation for what Plagg did for him --- but he did it. He kept his lady safe. He kept Ladybug safe, and even managed to be a help instead of a hindrance. For all the times he'd needed saving, more than once during that battle he'd saved her life in turn.

It was a funny realization to come to, and an intense satisfaction.

He felt like he'd proved himself worthy somehow.

Adrien watched the white butterfly escape into the sunset and sighed explosively, bracing his hands on his knees and shaking as the adrenaline started to fade.

His entire body hurt from head to toe, a mixture of bruises and scrapes and overexertion. He'd sweated through his shirt, too-soft materials turned cloyingly clingy on his back and stomach, his hairline and forehead itchy with the strands of hair plastered to his skin. He felt both too hot and too cold, the itch under his skin as well as on top of it, and...

He felt good.

He'd helped.

Adrien Agreste had helped.

Even without his powers, even without his mask, Adrien Agreste had still helped.

He dragged a hand through his hair, unsticking it from his sweaty forehead, contemplating sitting down for a bit before he had to go face the music with Gorilla, and looked up to find Ladybug just... staring at him.

Staring at him with a very strange look on her face, yo-yo forgotten in her hand and the de-akumatized fan regaining her feet behind her.

"...What?" he asked when the odd look in her eye and her blank stare finally got to him.

(Didn't they need to be looking after the victim right now...?)

Ladybug twitched like he'd startled her out of a trance. Her hand raised like she wanted to rub the back of her neck, but she gave up halfway there, still staring at him wide-eyed. "...Thank... thank you."

Adrien actually did rub the back of his head, fingers slipping on the sweat, and felt his face heat a bit more. "Oh, uh, no problem."

"You were... uh..." Ladybug trailed off, fidgeting with her yo-yo. Her voice dropped and a shy little grin flitted across her face. "You were really cool."

...Had Adrien said he was hot and cold? Sorry, that was a mistake; he was just hot --- flushed glowing red with embarrassed pleasure from his scalp to his belly.

Ladybug said he was cool.

The fanboy in Adrien was on the verge of a dead faint.

"Me? O-oh, I... Uh." He squeezed the back of his neck, feeling the skin under his fingers burn, and found that he couldn't look at her at all. "I mean, you're way cooler."

Ladybug was still looking at him, and he managed to glance up in time to see her eyes flash.

Adrien's mouth went bone dry.

"Cooler than you... hot stuff?"

Adrien sort of registered that she'd cocked her head and winked and flashed him a dorky smile that would've given him heart failure on a regular day, but he was mostly busy feeling every single one of his mental processes coming to a screeching, crashing, clattering halt.

Holy shit.

Her voice.

(Thick and purring and... and... He didn't have words for what it sounded like, except that his hormones were pretty happy to paint all sorts of other scenarios where she might sound like that.)

He swallowed enough saliva back into his mouth to answer, "Of course. No---no one is cooler than you," and then was right back to square one, panting and trembling and much, much too hot.

At least he couldn't feel the burn in his legs any more. He couldn't really feel them at all.

"I don't know..." Ladybug murmured, leaning into him. Her eyes flicked down to his mouth, tracking his tongue when it ran across his lips. "I think you could give me a run for it."

...Holy shit.

Hello, you have reached the residence of Adrien Agreste. I'm not able to take your call at the moment; would you like to leave a message?

Yes, Ladybug wanted to leave a message --- but she didn't bother with a tidy little request summary with her number tacked on at the end, no.

She just caught him by the back of his neck and crashed her mouth into his.

Adrien made a strangled noise of not-protest and leaned into it, fire racing up his spine and pins-and-needles prickling his limbs, mind stuck in a broken feedback loop of holy shit holy shit Ladybug holy shit that's Ladybug holy shit.

It was Ladybug's thumb digging into his cheek as she kept him right where she wanted him, and it was Ladybug who kissed him with bruising force as he sluggishly responded. It was Ladybug's breath stuttering against his cheek and Ladybug's lips sliding between his own. It was Ladybug who was sighing something high and breathy and heated, Ladybug who hummed, and Ladybug who was taking every bit of Adrien and turning him inside out.

And then her earrings beeped.

As suddenly as she'd kissed him, she ripped herself away, dark eyes huge and lips flushed bright red. She did a double take as soon as she focused in on him, clamping her mouth shut and swallowing visibly.

...Adrien kind of wanted to know what he looked like, to make her look like that.

"A-a-a-anyway," she rasped, gaze firmly fixed on his mouth as she staggered back. "Thanks for your help, Ah-Adrien. I couldn't---" She gulped. "Couldn't have done it without you."

Adrien, jaw somewhere in the vicinity of his knees, managed to nod.

"Right!" said Ladybug, staggering less and stumbling more. "I will. Go. Because... Because I gotta." She waved at her ears.

Adrien nodded again.

Ladybug flailed for a few more seconds and then squeaked, "Bye!" and fled.

Adrien waited until she was out of sight to drop to his knees.

...Holy shit.

Behind him, the akuma's victim groaned.

"You too?" the girl snapped. "She's not all that!"

And then she actually looked at him, and groaned again. "Why does no one listen to me."

Adrien didn't have much of an answer for her, sadly; his ears were still ringing, and he was finding it pretty hard to think around the excited heat in his lips.

The girl gave up in disgust, getting up and wandering back into the con crowd that was slowly returning through the seams of the square.

Plagg took this as a signal that it was safe to poke his head out.

"...If you keep yammering on about how you got her autograph after this, I'm gonna judge you so hard."

Adrien tried to say Haha, very funny, and produced an incomprehensible croak instead.

Holy shit.

#edendaphne #ladynoir #miraculous ladybug #ladrien #mlsecretsanta 2k16 #my fic #.....i had commentary but i forgot the commentary hhhhh #HAPPY (BELATED) HOLIDAYS ♥

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sathemsart · 7 years

Text

Fijit Oddloom

Bellow is my full backstory for Fijit, my little Magenta Bloodlust

Fijit is 2'5", 35 pounds, and it is all fucking muscle. She has dark red skin, bright magenta eyes, and cheery pink hair that she keeps in a short, controlled hairstyle under her incredibly fancy hat. Her scars stand out light on her skin, one above her left eye, several nicks in her ears, and one through her lip and chin (and those are just the visible ones). Her nose has been obviously broken several times and didn't set right. Her fingers have several oil burns and she would never admit it but they are from early cooking accidents and not something badass. She usually lies about where they came from but the story is different every time.

She's got a sturdy body type, more so than most gnomes, often having a heartier diet. Her teeth are slightly pointed and she sometimes files them to be more so. Her facial features are round cheeked but pointy chinned, wide eyes and large pointed ears. Her intimidation tactics have been honed with an unsettling, unblinking stare and a slowly widening, sharp toothed grin that would look right at home on a shark. Because she’s worked so hard to build up the image she has it’s not something she can just turn off. So she’s not very diplomatic.

Fijits father was never in the picture and her mother died early on in her life, to something Fijit doesn't remember. She was raised by a friend of the family who was unfortunately human and unfortunately single and was not quite sure how to raise a precocious gnome, let alone a girl-child. He has no idea how to do her hair and she had the unfortunate propensity to become tangled in it causing him to keep it cut short. This is in direct opposition to her gnome quirk of having elaborate hairstyles. She never grew into that particular quirk, deciding instead to go the more masculine route of having a really, really cool hat.

Her dad, Ven Haven was a kind, curious man, which made him distinctly ill-suited to life in Riddleport. He came to Riddleport after being disowned by his own family and needed somewhere to eke out a living away from their influence. He was a wizard who specialized in creation of magical items. Living in that household, with Ven who did not properly childproof his spell making equipment, exposed Fijit to a variety of magical items and their uses and backfires. One particularly volatile gadget seared part of her face, her left eyebrow, forehead, and part of her hairline leaving her with permanent burn scars.

Fijit learned young that her adopted dad was more of a dreamer than a practical guardian. She started getting jobs to help pay for household expenses. Since she was young and small she mostly took courier jobs and the occasional heist job. But what she saw were the fighters, they had the most opportunities and the highest paychecks. That's what she aspired to be despite her racial limitations and radically un-intimidating, shockingly pink coloration. She picked up the hammer because it's the only weapon kept around the house and the most satisfying to take to some big dudes kneecaps. The crunch really makes it worth it.

In her tweens she often fought with her dad, wanting him to work harder and make them more money. He was too nice, too giving in a cutthroat town that would as soon kiss him with a snicker snack as look at him. He was ninety pounds soaking wet and had an abysmally miniscule book of offensive spells. She worried for him constantly and it came out as anger. It was only after a bad mugging that he started to see her side of things. He didn't pick up offensive magic though, he turned to healing and defence. He also despaired of her picking up odd jobs, thinking it too dangerous for one so small and young and...pink. His constant overprotective nature forced her to keep secrets from him no matter how she hated it. They never ended up seeing eye to eye on the matter and it was a source of contention between them until the day he died.

She has lived in the Leeward District for her whole life in the house her mother bequeathed to her. The downstairs shop front she rents out to a human candlemaker, Evan Lacegrave, who also lodges there and takes care of the place when Fijit is busy with various jobs that take her away from the town. She's had to threaten away a number of far too interested buyers which really helped her develop her intimidating personality. She is, while not friendly persay, on congenial terms with her neighbors but hears most gossip through Evan. She keeps to herself and certainly causes her fair share of gossip in the neighborhood.

Fijit is more serious compared to other gnomes because she puts more effort into intimidation and can't afford to show levity in front of the regular denizens of the city. She doesn't have a close family or friend group that she can let her guard down around so she is more defensive and aggressive. She will always resort to puns and nicknames though, they are her favorite way to let loose her giggling inner gnome. Not having grown up in a gnome household she feels even less of a connection to the gnome "community". That plus her odd choice of wearing a hat instead of braids and tails makes her an oddity to other gnomes, though not for the same reasons other races see her as an oddity.

While she did recently make the major purchase of a brand new Lucene Hammer; Fijit is generally a penny pincher. She saves whenever possible because you never know when the jobs will dry up or something around the house will break. After Ven died it all went to Fijit to take care of the house and herself thought she was barely 30. She is practical as much as she is whimsical, carrying with her rope as well as cool rocks. She's got a thing for all things shiny, she doesn't feel compelled to collect but damn if she doesn't think about it. 'You can't carry thirty pounds of cool looking rocks with you, BUT WHAT IF I NEED THEM' She managed to talk herself down to a single pound of rocks. (YOU NEVER KNOW, MAN).

Her house is covered in rocks and carpets and tapestries. Her favorite colors are gold and ruby. She can't cook well but knows a guy who makes good rations for cheap so that never stood in her way. She also likes to decorate with mirrors of varying sizes and shapes and tables staggered so she can climb about. She also knows there is at least two cats living with her but she has never been formally introduced to them, the sneaky bastards. She likes cats though, often wishing she had claws herself and that her teeth were pointier than they already are. It's the dream for close combat fighting when you're knee high to a butterfly.

Fijit generally takes bouncer jobs or works as hired muscle but sometimes she has to turn to competing in arena sports to make enough money to get through the week. She dislikes them not for the sake of the sport but for the jeering she tends to attract and how mad gamblers are when her "sure thing to lose” fucks them over. She's had to deal with many a drunk trying to take her on after she wins her match. She's been out of work recently, with the influx of physically larger races coming in from the sea and the general mockery of her coloration.

While she doesn't pray regularly or give offerings to any of the gods she does send up a quick prayer to Desna, the goddess of luck, when she is in a spot of trouble. It can never hurt to have a little divine luck on your side but she's not the type to put all her eggs in one basket or even bother with a basket at all. Surprisingly to some, Fijit actually adores how she looks and loves the color pink. She thinks it makes her that much more unsettling to humans and the like who associate it with sweet things. She's basically a horror movie in a hat.

Despite her chosen profession as a fighter, Fijit enjoys using her gnome magic on a daily basis. The spells make her remember her dad and come in handy for pulling pranks or acting as distractions as she may need them. She especially enjoys talking with animals, though she mostly sticks to birds, always having dreamt of flight herself. It's not a goal in her life, she has just always had dreams at night of flying on wings of silver over green water. No idea what that's about.

When she has extra money she either squirrels it away, gets some new rocks, or buys long lasting trail rations because, while more expensive than rations for other races, gnome trail rations keep her belly full on hard times and keep through the good times. She always has a week's worth on hand for emergencies. She can make that stretch three weeks if she budgets properly and supplements with a couple stolen items like bread and apples.

Fijits sweet fucking cavalier hat is a wide brimmed leather piece, one side folded up to show off her rad scars. It’s got some fabric hanging off of it to obscure her neck and to hide the scale mail under it that has protected her neck from many a cowardly blow to the back of the neck. She’s had this hat for a long while, through thick and thin and she’s not about to let it fall by the wayside on some foolhardy (and fun!) adventure. She would literally trade a teammate for her hat back. Don’t worry, she’d go back for them. Eventually.

Her outfit is made to bulk up her form so it includes padding on the hips, shoulders, and chest. Her boots include lifts that bring her up a couple inches to a whopping 2’7”. She has fingerless gloves to look cool and cut down on friction burn when doing stupid shit like clothesline ziplining or high fiving an orc. She wears scale mail lined leather breeches tucked into knee high armored boots. Her socks are alpaca wool and one of the loftier purchases she’s made in her lifetime. Her shirt is plain but her coat/vest combo is canvas lined mail and covered in pockets. Several of which contain cool rocks.

As a kid Fijit used to be close to her cousin, Vex but lost contact after his family moved away from Riddleport. They corresponded briefly but with her mother as an invalid she found less and less time for someone not directly in front of her. This sort of thinking proved to be true for her later friendships as well. If they weren’t the one to show up at her door and she hadn’t seen them for a few days they were out of sight and out of mind. Despite this she’s fairly personable and is good at insinuating herself into groups.

Fijit enjoys getting into wacky hijinks with a bunch of patsy's she’s never going to see again. Because of this Fijit rarely if ever gets caught since she is so small and good at hiding and is in good standing with the local gendarmes. Some knew her mother and came around to tea when she was a wee thing. They still give her a friendly nod in passing but nothing more than that. She luckily kept out of the eye of the worst of the crime bosses by sticking to more lawful work. This crippled her job prospects though and is now sacrificing her lawful good mothers strong ethics to try and find work from Saul Vancaskerkin.

#a sathem origional #text #fijit oddloom

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