#i worry this comes off like i have an ego... i really dont haha~ i dont expect anyone to really interact with my blog or care | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

multiplefandomsblog · 3 years

Text

S/O who lost a bet to Kokichi, punishment being a Maid’s Dress

request; Ooooo, Requests are open! Could I have a female S/O who lost a bet and now has to wear a sexy maid outfit? And Kokichi is just. Eating. It. Up.

warnings; reader lost a bet and has to wear a maid dress, reader uses female pronouns and names, reader uses master(non-sexually), cussing, had to make kaito the ‘bad guy’ for trope reasons lmfao, kokichi gets jealous and possessive, they goof off a ton at the end, overall just fluff without much plot, and i.. i dont even know how to say this, i used this phrase i found from the internet “top 15 embarrassing things to say to strangers” so like,, watch out for that..! ahahahaha-

note; omfg i hate this one so much- most out of all my works, i stg i am the most disappointed in this one. please don’t even read it- i could’ve done so much better ;-; man, i just butchered this like a fricking idiot-- sorry anon!!!! you seriously deserved so much better, i am so sorry. there are so many issues with this- the ending, the cringe, the messiness, the fucking clichés- seriously, please please forgive me. although you probably shouldn’t, i am just so so sorry T_T please don’t be afraid to ask me if you want this rewritten, i am like, BEGGING YOU TO ASK ME TO REWRITE THIS SAVIBVDHBSDKJ

word count; 2.1k

You took a deep breath before leaving your dorm, mentally preparing yourself for the walk of shame to the dining room where you had to… you didn’t even want to say it, nor acknowledge it. The bet you had lost the day before with Kokichi, had left you with nothing but bitterness in the end. Your eyebrows were permanently creased, an expression of pure regret on your face as you shuffled unenthusiastically down the hall in your frilly maid’s outfit.

Shuichi greeted you as soon as he noticed the dress, a concerned, confused and albeit a bit flustered expression on his face as he did. “H-hey S/o! Um, so are you going to the dining hall?” He asked an obvious question, just so he could somehow get you to talk about your huge dress. Only nodding shamefully, you stifled a sigh.

Shuichi only made a noise of acknowledgement, letting the conversation go stale as he was too afraid to address the elephant in the room, himself. You were both silent, Saihara standing in front of you, awkwardly planted on his spot while he looked at everything but you.

He didn’t say anything, only occasionally sparing glances at your dress as he stood like a tree. Getting irked from the silence, you deadpanned, “... You want to know why I’m wearing a maid’s dress.” He flushed at even the mention of the word, as if you had said something terrible.

“Y-you don’t have to te-” Disrupting his excuse, you looked him dead in the eye, and uttered one word, “Kokichi.” Shuichi blinked at the name, before nodding in pity. After your short response, he required no further questions, the single name was all it took for the realization to wash over him. Even if he wasn’t a detective, it wouldn’t take less than a second to know what was going on.

As if the said-Kokichi had been waiting for you to say that, Kokichi suddenly popped out of nowhere, scaring the two of you at his sudden appearance, “Oh? What’s my maid doing with Saihara-chan? Not wasting time I hope~” He laughed sadistically at your suffering, “Chop chop my maid! Since I’m your master, you’re gonna have to follow my every order! So don’t even try to disobey me; cuz I’m sure maid-chan knows what happens when she does, right? Nishishi!” You cringed at the nickname, ere sighing in defeat and letting him drag you to the dining room where you’d soon meet your demise.

You looked back at Shuichi one last time, mouthing a, ‘Help me.’ as Kokichi dragged you away. Shuichi only sent back a sheepish and apologetic look, in which you glared at him, betrayal overtaking you.

A couple of minutes later of countless teasing and judgemental looks sent your way, you were finally at the dreaded destination. To your surprise, Kokichi eagerly kicked the door to the dining room open before you could even prepare yourself, the entire class turning around at the loud noise. Kaito was first to speak up about the dramatic entrance, ‘Kokichi!? What the actual F-! … f-ffffffffffuuhh..” Kaito trailed off, his attention shifting off Kokichi, to focusing on you in a maid’s dress.

Despite wanting you to feel the pure unfiltered humiliation, the sadistic bastard definitely did not love the way Kaito was eyeing you. Smile faltering for a second, he considered dragging you to his own room and having you perform a private show for him instead of these assholes. Shaking his head, he tried dispersing the thoughts of… jealousy? No, that can’t be it.

He decided he’d delay his feelings of conflict for later, and unfortunately for you, focusing back on your nervous figure. Peaking at the look on your face, he couldn’t help the twinge of worry for your well-being.

Noticing him stare at you with a small concern, you furrowed your brows in suspicion, that wasn’t really like him. Only then, did you notice the desperation on his face. He looked like he was choosing to either say, “Are you okay?” or “Pleaaaase!” He watched you, eyes wide with worry yet looking as if he had been begging you. Choosing your fate, you sent him a reassuring, but solemn nod, deciding to do the act he had been looking forward to for the entirety of yesterday; the day you lost that damned bet.

You sighed defeatedly at his pouty expression, you were weak for him and he knew it.

“Alright.” He looked up at you with expecting eyes, holding back a shit-eating grin, “Alright what..?” You sighed for the 2nd time within the span of 45 seconds, “Ugh... Master.” The single word uttered out from your pretty lips had his entire body shuddering, fighting back the blush on his face, he leaned his back towards you teasingly, his ego had been very clearly stroked, “That’s right. I’m your master; so come on and get to it! Don’t make your master wait~” He added, clearly enjoying your misery. You pouted, where did the worried Kokichi go?

Turning to face the crowd that seemed to be staring at you while you flirted talked normally with Kokichi, you felt your frills shuffle with each movement you made. You closed your eyes in preparation, making a mental note never to make a bet with Kokichi, ever. “Do I have to get on my knees?” He smiled cheerfully, “It’s part of the deal~” ‘Nishishi’ing as dread washed over your face.

Everyone watched in anticipation, some with concern, but mostly the former— as you got on your knees, the skirt neatly pleating on the ground.

Disgruntled, you uttered out a small, “If you tickle me, I will… I- “ You looked back at Kokichi, a look of, ‘Do I have to do this?’ contorting on your face as you stared at him pleadingly, dying inside when he nodded frantically like a child at a candy store.

“... S-say hee hee and prance around like a rainbow lollipop on a cloud of unicorn wishes.“ You flinched , the entire class had suddenly started howling and rushing towards you—most likely to tickle you—, but right before a giddy Angie and a determined Tenko could get their hands on you, Kokichi suddenly spoke up, stopping them in their tracks. “Hey! She’s not allowed to be touched by mutts like you, so get back!” He brutally spat, voice scratching from the force of his words.

Kaito immediately took the opportunity to ask you out as Kokichi’s occupied with the others, not hesitating for a second. Tapping on your shoulder, a shy smile adorning Kaito’s face as he awkwardly shuffled, “Hey S/o..! Do you maybe wanna, um..” Kokichi swiftly popped out from underneath your skirt as if this was a routinely thing, standing in between you and Kaito. “What the hell-” Kaito recoiled back in shock, had he just been hiding under there?? Kokichi looked at you, before looking back at him.

You were sure if looks could kill, Kaito would’ve been dead a year ago. “Hey. You know she’s mine, yeah?” Kokichi spoke with a dead-cold look on his face, before almost immediately contorting back into his usual mischievous smile, “... My personal maid, of course! Nishishi!” Kaito stared Kokichi down, in which Kokichi simply glared back in amusement, the same smile staying onto his face. Irking, Kaito discontentedly walked away, shortly after Kokichi had won the stare-down.

Exhaling loudly, his smile fell off his face as well as the breath he kept in, a neutral expression replacing his grin as he stared back at you, “You know, this whole thing is getting kinda boring, let’s just leave.” He tried putting on his signature charming grin, but you could see the way his teeth clenched. It seemed Kaito asking you out had a bigger effect on him than he wanted to admit.

Despite teasing and asking him if he was worried and/or jealous on the way to a secluded area, he persists, staying stubborn and brushing it off. “It just wasn’t as fun as I thought! Now stop nagging me and hurry uuuuup! You’re such a slowpoke.” Perking up, he suddenly remembered something, “Oh wait! That’s an order, right? So you have to obey.” Rolling your eyes, you jolted as an idea suddenly found its way to your head.

Flashing a mischievous smirk in his direction, you left him bewildered as you started sprinting across the field. “Wh- Hey! Haha, what the fuck!?” He cackled at how stupid you looked, throwing your heels across the field somewhere as you stumbled from the length of the dress, still running to god knows where.

His laughing suddenly halted as he witnessed the way you took a large leap and stepped on your dress, tumbling down as you did.“Stooop! You’re gonna actually hurt yourself, seriousl-! …” Kokichi suddenly fell silent as you fell on your face, only sounds of him choking back holding back his own loud laughter. But the boy could only hold back for so long, and as you raised your head from the field, you could hear him just fucking losing it.

Turning around and glaring directly at him, you stumbled back to your feet, jogging towards one of your lost heels before hurling it directly at Kokichi’s stomach. “Take that you little shit!” Now you were the one laughing at his misery. In the end the heel didn’t do what you wanted it to, as he just kept on laughing, only now wheezing from the hilarity of the situation and for the air you knocked out of him.

Hearing his crazy horse laughter fill the air, you couldn’t help but laugh just as loud, along with him. You jogged up to his hysterical figure, falling down next to him, your own giggles mingling in with his. He turned his head to you, pointing at your face weakly, before throwing his head back and laughing even louder.

Eventually, the laughter calmed, both of you just bathing in the afterglow of the extreme euphoria you both had felt. Kokichi turned his head again, staring at you in thought. Noticing his eyes, you took your eyes off the sky, catching his seemingly whipped gaze, “What?”

He smiled, “Even though you look like a maid who had just went through hell to try and escape her traumatizing slave prison life, you still look cute.” Admitting with no hesitation and way too many details, he watched in amusement as your face flushed. “And borderline sexy too. I am loving the sexy prisoner look.” He added, catching you off guard as you flushed even harder.

He sighed lovingly, “You know, I’d gladly pay you to stay in that dress... And I’m not lying.” You scoffed and looked at him in disbelief, Kokichi frowning back, “Hey! Don’t look at me like that! You know damn well, you look hot in those tights.” He drifted his eyes lower and lower, tilting his head to get a better view- before you suddenly chopped him.

Wincing from the hit, he started bawling, “Uwah! How meeeaan! And to do that to your master too! How could you!?” Here come the waterworks. You only grimaced, right before decreasing your face in defeat, deciding to play along, “Fine. I’m sorry then,” Sighing, “Master.” You groaned out, clearly unhappy with the title Kokichi had forced on himself. Kokichi went light-headed as soon as he heard that word come out your lips, smiling like a goof, he only gawked at you.

Shooting your head back to him, you were concerned as to why he was suddenly quiet. Was there something wrong with him? Did he pass out? “Master?” You called him by his title, shaking his tiny figure. The expression on his face showed pure bliss, “Just kiss me already.”

He snapped out of it for a second, eyes darting to yours. You glared at him, in which he simply glared back, a challenging smirk on his face, differing greatly from his expression from earlier, “That’s an order~”

Blinking at the statement, you gave in to your demise, slowly leaning down to kiss his forehead lightly, a flush on your face. Pressing your lips lightly against his skin, you pulled away shortly, lingering no longer than you had to. However short it was, that alone seemed to do it for him, as you swore you saw hearts shoot out from the spot in which you pecked.

Giggling strangely, he rested on the field, completely surrendering his body to the earth as he went limp. “Nishi… My maid loooves me!” You stayed silent at the bold remark, wanting to refute but you knew he’d just figure out your lies.

... Even so, you refused to admit it, “You fucking wish.” Snorting, you pushed his face away from you gently, cackling as you heard his whining.

329 notes · View notes

rlupinswhore · 2 years

Text

Prompt List

• you can use these dialogue prompts when requesting. it is obviously your choice to use my prompts or not :)!

• ° • ° • °• ° • ° • °• ° • ° • °• ° • ° • °• ° • ° • °• °

fluff dialogue

"Did you just lick me?!"

"You smell nice. Come here. Hug me so I can smell like you."

"Have you seen my hoodie?" "Nooooo..." "You're wearing it, aren't you?"

"You're freezing, Jesus!"

“Stop moving and let me braid your hair"

"Kiss me or i'll cry."

“You can sit on my lap until I'm done working"

“Is that my shirt?”

“I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention.”

“Cuddles? Please?”

“You look beautiful,” “Oh shut up,”

“You know I have a soft spot for your stupid puppy dog eyes,”

“Are you insane?” “Yes,”

“I’m not drunk!”

“Not my kid, not my responsibility.” “It’s a dog!” “No, it’s your kid.”

“Oh my god, are you drunk?”

“You’re adorable.”

“You forgot your money? Oh, don’t worry, love. I’ll pay.”

“Look at those squishy cheeks and bright eyes! I love everything about you so much.”

“You can’t keep wearing your ferret and calling it a scarf.”

“Crushing hard, huh?”

"You make me look like a garden gnome."

“God, I missed this.”

"Did you just take my muffin?" "Sharing is caring, baby!"

“What happened to your pillow?” “What are you talking about? You are my pillow.”

"Well at least your mom thinks you’re handsome."

“You really need a haircut.”

“I can explain.”

"I like that you make me laugh so much that my cheeks hurt."

"You are being extra sweet today."

"It's cold in here! Can you warm me up please dear?"

• ° • ° • °• ° • ° • °• ° • ° • °• ° • ° • °• ° • ° • °• °

angst dialogue

“are you ashamed of me?”

“don’t raise your fucking voice at me.”

“You’ll always be a friend.”

“It’s pouring rain, why are you here?”

“You’re choosing her over me?” “Why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?”

“Please don’t make me choose.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!”

“You are so naive.”

“Please don’t make me choose.”

"For what it's worth, I never gave up on you."

“All I wanted was a happy ending.”

“I would give up everything for the chance to hear your laugh again. To see you smile. To see you happy."

“Don’t look at me like that.” “Like what?" “Like you still love me.”

“Do you think I care?”

“I wish we never met in the first place.”

“Do you ever listen to what I say?”

“Leave. Right now.”

“I am hurting too. Did that ever occur to you?”

• ° • ° • °• ° • ° • °• ° • ° • °• ° • ° • °• ° • ° • °• °

smut dialogue {18+}

“Focus only on me.”

“You’re naked aren’t you”

“Don’t fucking touch what is not yours”

“Strip. Now”

“Bite me” ”If you insist”

“Get on your hands and knees, right now” “Take off your clothes for me.”

"I dare you to fuck ____."

“Turn around for me.”

"I want you to touch yourself."

"Behave."

"This feels dirty..." "Because it is."

"Bed. Now."

"Let me give you a reason to stay in bed"

"Don’t forget who you belong to."

"No panties?"

" Haha, You're so cute when you're nervous ."

" I'm literally holding back from ripping that dress off your body "

" Time for your punishment , kitty "

“take off your shirt.”

“i missed you.” “how much?”

" Do it slowly..."

“fuck it, i can’t even pretend like i don’t want you anymore.”

“kiss me, kiss me again.”

“don’t leave any marks.”

“Does this feel good?” “Like I’d tell you if it did. Your ego is far too big already.” “Know what else is big?” “Your forehead?” “Damn. Low blow.”

“You’re smart.” “Do you want me to do your homework, or let you fuck me? Because no to both.” “I can’t complement you just because?” “No.” “Hm. Well you were right. Wanna fuck?” “No!”

“i need you.”

“such a slut” “only for you”

“shut up.” ‘well why dont you come over here and make me?’

“mine” ‘say it again’

“you look so good with my hand around your neck”

“[name]—” “Ah, ah, ah…” “S-sorry… [title - mommy, daddy, master, mistress, etc.]…”

“We can’t just fuck on the side of the road!” “Can’t we?”

“You don’t want me? Why are you soaking through your panties, then?”

“We can’t do that here!”

“I forgot my towel”

Feel like another round?

“We’ve been at it like rabbits and you’re still horny”

“Please remind me why we’re having sex behind a tree”

“Guess I’ll have to cum inside you then”

“really? right here? you know people are going to see us...”

“be quiet, you wouldn’t want all your friends hearing us right?”

“bad girls get punished y/n”

“Focus only on me.”

“if you beg, you can cum.”

• ° • ° • °• ° • ° • °• ° • ° • °• ° • ° • °• ° • ° • °• °

dark dialogue {18+}

{will be added soon!!!}

#R.L.W PROMPT LIST #thank you to all the tumblr blogs i gathered my prompts from :))

11 notes · View notes

butteraway · 3 years

Text

when time runs out | ii

⋆ summary: A young girl has fallen deeply ill with an unknown disease in her, so with all her free time spent in an empty hospital room, she spends it online playing video games. That's until she meets her cousins friends, one spiking her interest with his extremely vulgare language.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: small mentions of suicide (I’ll put a star ‘⋆’ on top and below the paragraph so you can skip over it if your uncomfortable, you won’t miss anything too important so dont worry!)

"Bro, honestly I still can't believe that you of all people made it into the elite, number one hero school in the country."

"Waahh, I'm telling you! I'm the real deal Y/N!"

"So, how's your summer been? School's gonna be starting soon, are you excited?" Denki could only smile and sigh as his character was finally killed off.

Said girl chuckled as she heard Denki's voice rise through her headphones as they continued killing zombies in front of them. She grimaced as a zombie attacked her from behind her character. Geez, I never get a break in this game.

"Well, to be honest, nothing big really happened besides me getting my acceptance letter from U.A. Just me training and hanging with the fam." He laid back in the comfort of his bed, headphones still on in order to hear his cousin.

"Aah, already training, hero boy? That's why you haven't been visiting me lately." Y/N pouted and crossed her arms as her TV screen turned black, returning her to the main page of the game.

"Man, we suck at this game!" Denki laughed out loud as he saw how long they lasted in the last round. Y/N smiled and let out a small giggle of her own as she placed down her controller.

"Yeah, how long have we had this game for? It still feels like it's our first time playing this." Denki cracked a smile, even though Y/N couldn't see him.

"Hey, sorry for not being able to come to the hospital. Getting ready for U.A. is no joke, haha." Denki rubbed the nape of his neck, eyebrows scrunching up with regret.

"Nah nah, it's fine! I understand that you have things to do. You have big plans for the future." Y/N brushed a strand of her hair away from her face, looking down at the needles that were plunged into her arms. Her eyes were clouded with an emotion she often felt when talking with Denki. She always felt guilty whenever the feeling came around.

"Must be nice to be able to achieve your dreams." Jealousy. She hated the feeling she got every now and then, but you couldn't really blame her. She lost everything in only a couple of months. Silence passed between the two teenagers, Y/N finally realizing what she said.

"Uh s-sorry about that! I didn't mean to say that alou-" Y/N was cut off by Denki's soft voice.

"Y/N, it's... okay to feel like that. I don't understand what you have been going through, but I know that you shouldn't bring yourself down for something you can't control. You're such an amazing person and to be honest. . ." Denki paused as Y/N's eyes began to glaze over.

"I'm doing this for me and you. You always encouraged me to take any opportunity by, as you like to say, the neck. I-I wanna make you proud, y'know? I wanna make it feel like you're a part of this crazy world, even if you're not really here, walking with me through it all."

Y/N’s lips wobbled as she let out a watery laugh. She hunched over, small tears falling down her face. To someone else, this would've boosted their ego, but to Y/N, those words meant the world to her. No one had ever said that to her before. She felt like she had a purpose in this wretched life of hers. She sniffles were heard by Denki

"H-hey! It's okay, p-please don't cry!" Y/N heard shuffling coming from Denki as he reassured her to not cry.

"I mean it. I only wish you could be there though, it would be so much cooler!" Denki smiled, trying to lighten up the mood. Y/N's sniffles slowly quieted down as she let out a soft laugh that made his heart swell with joy. At least he can make her laugh.

"I'm s-sorry, but no one has ever told me t-that." Small hiccups came from the girl as she calmed down, taking deep breaths to slow her heart rate. Won't want doctors to come rushing in just to see her crying over something so small.

⋆

"I-I'm just really happy you said that." Denki's heart clenched at those words, his chin trembling every now and then. He knew that Y/N wasn't happy with where she was. She had even admitted that she had urges to rip out the needles and slowly lose her life from there. Denki spent the rest of that night talking to her after. To say he was concerned was an understatement. He was terrified when she told him.

⋆

"I think us being able to play games together is already enough!" They both laughed and talked for a couple of minutes before deciding to to hang up.

"Y/N, I mean it when I say I want you to be happy, okay? I hope you feel better tomorrow. Buh-bye!" Y/N said her goodbye to Denki, hanging up and closing the laptop that sat on a movable table.

Her smile slowly left her face, leaving her staring blankly at the pure white wall and mirror in front of her. When visitors were gone, her window would turn to a mirror so no one would disturb her. Y/N took a good look at herself and only sighed. Despite being as healthy as she could get, she looked a bit on the thin side, this complimenting her skin. Running a hand through her hair, she untangled the little knots that had formed there.

"Geez, what happened to you girl? You look like a zombie." Y/N looked at the zombie game and cringed.

"Literally." Just then the door to her room opened and shut quickly, the air filter turning on when a female doctor entered. Y/N watched her carefully as she checked the IV that connected to her arm. The protective suit never made Y/N feel better about her condition.

"Are you alright, Ms. L/N?" The light, stern voice rang through her ears as she looked at the woman in front of her. Y/N gave the doctor a grin.

"Never been better."

It had been an hour since the doctors had turned the lights off, but Y/N didn't feel the slightest bit of exhaustion. She had been sitting in the pitch black room for the time being and was really debating on turning on the TV.

"Ahh, fudge it." Instinctively reaching out for the remote, she turned on the TV and winced as the bright light hit her.

Looking back to the screen, she chose the option of going online and waited for other players to join. While waiting, a new character popped up next to her and she could only smirk at their username. Tapping on her mic, she decided to make conversation with them to see if they also had a mic.

"Now, what to play. What to play..." Y/N had settled for playing OverWatch since she didn't feel like playing any story type games. No cliffhangers tonight, Y/N thought. As the game loaded, she laid back and began thinking about cheesecake. When was the last I ate strawberry cheesecake? Great, now I want some. Thinking about eating cheesecake made her excited about the next day.

"Well hello, dear ol' 'King Explosion Murder_1.' Nice name you got there." Y/N chuckled as she said the name out loud, seeing another player enter.

"Hello 'Tape Dispenser?' What's with the wack name?" The girl’s eyes crinkled as she smiled at their name, hearing the user chuckle through her headphones. 'King Explosion Murder' still had yet to reply, but that didn't bother her. They're either using the bathroom or don't have a mic.

"The name was inspired by my quirk. But what's up with '_DeathGirl_', huh? You good?" Y/N could only laugh at what he said. She should really send him a friend request.

"I’m honestly great, a little tired, but great! I just gotta make up a name, y'know? But your quirk has to do with tape? I don't know if that's wicked or useless." The boy laughed while Y/N laughed as well, losing her grip on her controller. That was until a gruff voice interrupted their laughing session.

"Shut the fuck up, your annoying ass voices are giving me a damn headache." Finally, after being silent, 'King Explosion Murder_1' spoke up.

"Aah, so you do talk. I don't know why you didn't say anything sooner Mr. Explosion Murder." The other player could only sneer at what she said, hitting his desk with his fist. Another player had joined, Y/N only noticing.

"Ah, hello 'Sleep Deprived Controller!'" Said player made their character wave, making Y/N chuckle. While they had their interaction, 'King Explosion Murder' was shouting at her, now realizing that she wasn't paying attention to what he was saying.

"Hey! Listen to me when I'm fucking talking to you, emo bitch!" Y/N’s eyes widened, soon rolling her eyes, watching the game load as they were placed into a match. What's his damn problem?

"Hey man, no need to go calling people names now." 'Tape Dispenser' nervously chuckled as he heard the other player growl. Y/N sported a shocked face as she heard this. What is he, a dog???

"Outta this conversation, extra!" Tape dude could only deadpan at what he was just called. Who calls people extras?? I’m not an extra, in fact I think I’m- 'Sleep Deprived Controller' listened with an annoyed expression on their face, wishing they could shut their shouting teammate up. Damn, wish I actually had a mic.

The game began as all the players separated, going their own way to kill their enemies. Everyone was in the zone, getting items and yelping every now and then if they were attacked. The first to go down was 'Tape Dispenser', then 'Sleep Deprived Controller', leaving both Y/N and 'King Explosion Murder' left on their team. Y/N smirked at their winning team, only one player was left on the other team. Just as the game was going to end, the opposing player shot down 'Explosion Murder', killing him.

"FUUUUUUUUUUUUU-" His mic cut off, causing the two players with mics in a cackling mess. Y/N calmed down, remembering she was still playing, trying to hunt down the last player. Finally, after many curses by a certain player and cheering from another, she located her enemy.

"You better fucking win this or I'll kill you." Knowing he didn't mean that last part, she only focused on the first part. You better win this. Those words echoed through her head as she stopped aiming for the player. She hated being told what to do.

"Ah, so you're one of those people." Not knowing what she meant, they only watched with wide eyes at what she did. Y/N jumped down next to the enemy, shooting them twice with her weakest gun, signaling them that she was there. Quickly, the other player shot her character down, killing her. They lost the game.

"THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?! WE COULD'VE FUCKING WON!" Explosion Murder wasn't taking defeat easily like the other two were. Y/N could only give a grunt of disapproval towards the loud player.

"Ha, why did you just give up right there? You could've easily killed him." Tape Dispenser was just as confused as the other two players, slightly disappointed at the loss. Y/N sighed as she rubbed her forehead.

"Sorry not sorry, but this dude really thought he could get away with telling me what to do. I'll make my move when I'm ready, sorry to disappoint you guys." She sighed as she rubbed her neck, ready to hear the disapprovals of her teammate. But what she heard and saw made her smile.

"Nah, it's fine. It can get a tiny bit annoying with Murder yelling in your ear." Tape Dispenser reassured her, with Sleep Deprived's character giving her a thumbs up. Though, the annoyed sigh caught her attention back to him. Her eyebrow twitched. What is it now?

"I'm done with this fucking sappy shit scene. I'm out." Those were Murder's last words before he disconnected, leaving them in an awkward silence before Y/N stifled a giggle.

"I have a feeling that won't be the last time I'm seeing him." Tape Dispenser chuckled while Sleep Deprived's character shook their head, making Y/N softly laugh. After sending friend requests to both people, she bid them both fair well and left.

Y/N turned off her console and tv, putting the controllers on the table near her. She laid down in the comfort of her bed, thinking about her interactions with the people she met. She smiled, closing her eyes and drifting into a dreamless slumber with only one thought in mind.

King Explosion Murder is such a weird name.

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #mha #bnha #mha angst #bnha fluff #fanfic

54 notes · View notes

moonlit-jeno · 4 years

Text

snapshot | l.jn

pairing: lee jeno x reader

genre/ warnings: smut, thigh riding, hand jobs, masturbation

words: 2.6k

Jeno is going to pass out.

It’s not because of the lack of sleep he had gotten, the fact that he’s about to miss the deadline for his essay, or because he’s been eating like shit the whole week. It’s not even because of the disgustingly graphic horror movie Renjun had made him watch. It’s because you, his very attractive roommate, have sent him a picture.

Nothing like the normally cute selfies you normally send him, or the ones taken from an awful angle to get a laugh out of him. This one’s sexy. Blue lace just barely covers your breasts, your necklace fitting perfectly in your cleavage. Your lips are parted slightly but they’re swollen, as if you’ve been biting them.

The sheer speed with which all the blood in his body rushes to his cock is fast enough to make him lightheaded almost immediately, and he stares at the picture long enough that it’s permanently ingrained behind his eyelids. Which is a problem. A big, big problem.

He realizes just how big of a problem it is when he gets a hand around his cock, guilt swimming in his stomach as he realizes that he’s about to jerk off to his roommate. His wonderful, lovely roommate who he is friends with. Did he have a mild crush on you? Yes. But your relationship is nothing but strictly platonic. And yet...

Even when he puts his phone away, he can’t stop thinking about that picture. You must’ve sent it to him on accident. Why else would he get that picture?

His phone dings and he opens it, hoping it’s Jaemin asking him to play video games. Lord knows he needs the distraction.

It’s not.

It’s you again. The attachment is a video this time, and holy fuck. The video starts with a shot of your legs, a pair of matching blue panties that just barely cover your pussy. There’s a soft moan, and Jeno’s ears strain to pick up on it.

“I’m so wet for you.” You sigh, letting your fingers slip under the fabric. A gasp leaves you at the feeling and Jeno wishes that he could see what you’re doing, but the fabric blocks his view and he wishes that he could rip it off of you. “God, I wish you were here with me. You’d fuck me so well.”

You move your fingers up to the camera and fuck, you really weren’t lying when you said you were wet. The digits are glistening and Jeno audibly moans. He fucking ascends when you pop the digits in your mouth, moaning around them obscenely. The video ends and yet Jeno is too overwhelmed you process anything, just sits there with his phone in his hand and his eyes glued blankly to his wall.

He can’t stop the images from playing in his mind, but he manages to pull it together enough to come up with a response.

Jeno [11:53pm]

did you mean to send this to me?????

Roomie [11:54pm]

huh

OH HOLY FUCK

IM SO SORRY PLEASE DELETE THOSE

HOLY SHIT

Jeno [11:54pm]

haha it’s okay

i deleted them no worries

Roomie [11:54pm]

im so embarrassed right now

Jeno [11:55pm]

dont be

it happens to the best of us

can i come talk to you or do you need a minute to finish up

Roomie [11:56pm]

asjdhjsksj DID YOU HAVE TO PHRASE IT LIKE THAT

anyways yeah give me a min

Jeno wills his boner to go down and takes a few deep breaths, eventually standing from his chair and making his way down the hall. He bounces on his toes and checks the time. It’s been 3 minutes. Surely you’re ready now?

“Come in!” You yell when he knocks and he timidly lets himself in, shutting the door softly behind him. He can’t help but notice how adorable you look right now, wrapped so tightly in blankets that your face barely peaks out. Jeno notices the hoodie you’re swimming in is his, and it fills him with a strange sense of... something. Pride? Happiness?

“Hey.” He starts, standing awkwardly at the foot of your bed.

You take a moment before repeating the greeting. Neither of you know what to say and a horrible silence fills the room. Your laughter breaks it.

“This is so awkward, holy shit.” You giggle, breaking out of your cocoon a little bit. “I can’t even remember a time where it’s been this bad.”

“It was literally less awkward when we first met and that’s saying something.” Jeno snorts, taking a seat on the edge of the bed when you pat it.

The two of you laugh until it peters out into another silence. You clear your throat. “Uh. So about the, uh, pictures. I’m really sorry, I definitely didn’t mean to send them to you.”

Jeno laughs again, hoping that it doesn’t sound too strained. “Yeah, I kinda figured. It’s no big deal though, I already deleted them.”

“It’s not like I would send you nudes anyways, that’s stupid. I’d show you in person.” Jeno’s eyebrows nearly shoot off of his face with how high he raises them, a confused “huh?” leaving him. You laugh. “Y’know, because you’re right next door. Are you okay?”

He somewhat recovers. “Oh! Yeah, yeah, for sure. Face to face contact and all that.” His heart is still beating much too fast, his knee bouncing as he thinks about you showing up at his door in nothing but skimpy lingerie, a pout on your lips as you whisper that you’re so wet and that you need him to do something.

“Mhmm, exactly. Anyways, can we agree to forget about this?” You ask, and Jeno definitely won’t be forgetting about this anytime soon, but he nods anyways and murmurs an “of course”. You beam. “Cool! Are you gonna go to sleep? Because I was about to start a movie if you wanna join.”

Jeno shakes his head, the proximity driving him crazy. “I got an essay to write that is due,” He checks the clock. “9 minutes ago. Maybe another time?”

You open your arms and pull him in for a hug. “I’m holding you to that. Have fun writing your essay.”

He groans. “Oh yeah, the most fun.”

It’s when he gets past your door that you stop him. “Hey Jen?” He pauses, glances back, but doesn’t open the door to peek his head back into your room. “I’m glad it was you I sent the pictures to.”

He pretends like he doesn’t hear it, his mind already a jumbled mess.

The next few weeks are surprisingly not awkward. You both ignore it like you promised, going on with your routine as if it had never happened. Well, as much as possible, anyways.

Jeno is a young man in his prime. He has a very high sex drive. And yet, he hasn’t been able to jerk off in two weeks because every time he tries, he thinks of you. And the guilt that consumes him is always too much, so he ends up with a cold shower and a shit ton of frustration.

But two weeks is a long time to be pent up. So when you pop into his mind while he’s relaxing in bed, he can’t stop himself from grinding his hips down into the mattress. A little bit of relief turns into him humping the mattress like a dog, biting into his pillow to muffle his moans. You’re not home so he doesn’t really need to be quiet, but it’s a force of habit.

Your name still slips past his lips, and no matter how guilty he feels, he can’t stop. He groans your name and flips onto his back, wrapping his fist around his cock and nearly sobbing at how good it feels. His hips snap faster and faster into his hand and he’s so close, so fucking close-

“Jeno?” Your voice is too close to be a part of his imagination and it takes a moment for him to realize why.

His head snaps up and he makes eye contact with you, dread rushing through him. “Shit, y/n, I didn’t-“ He doesn’t finish, doesn’t know what he didn’t do, just yanks the covers up to protect the last bits of his dignity.

You swallow. “My class got cancelled. I uh, I heard you call my name and I didn’t realize that you were...” You trail off, making a vague gesture with your hand.

It’s bad, he knows, but he can’t stop himself from continuing to stroke himself at a torturous pace. He’s hidden from sight by the blanket and he grinds the heel of his palm into the head of his cock, biting his cheek so hard he tastes blood. It’s hurting more than it’s helping, and he knows it’s bad to keep doing it while talking to his roommate who he was just getting off to, but he can’t bring himself to care.

He grimaces, ready to try and talk himself out of it (or at least attempt to) when you continue. “Do you want help?”

Jeno’s eyes nearly fall out of his head and he hisses as he accidentally squeezes his cock too hard. You’re looking at your feet and maybe you’re just as embarrassed as he is.

“I mean, you’ve already seen my nudes. I wouldn’t mind, like, seeing yours too.” Jeno is hallucinating. There’s no way this is real. Shakily, he nods.

You move to sit down next to him, a little stiff, your eyes meeting his for a moment before flickering down over his torso. He jolts as you brush your fingertips along his arm, moving down the limb until you reach his hand, which is still fucking gripping his dick. You giggle when you realize that he’s been jerking off the whole time you’ve been in the room.

The covers are pulled down and your eyes widen briefly. Jeno’s self-conscious for half a second before you’re gasping out an “oh fuck, you’re big”. His ego inflates and he can’t stop himself from smiling.

“You must be close, yeah? Couldn’t stop touching yourself, even when I caught you.” Jeno groans, half in embarrassment, half in pleasure. You brush your fingers of the tip of his cock, just teasing around the head and his hips launch off the bed into your touch.

“Bet you were hoping I caught you. That’s why you were calling my name, isn’t it?” You lean close to brush your lips over his earlobe before moving down to leave wet kisses along his neck. He pants heavily, head tilting to give you more room.

Pleasure clouds his senses when you finally take pity on him, stroking his cock with a tight grip. “You’re the one who sent the pictures.” He pants out. There’s heat pooling his gut and he rolls his hips up into your grip, fucking into your hand.

“Aww, you liked them? Let me tell you a secret.” You move so that you’re straddling his thigh, leaning down to suck a hickey into his chest, and Jeno doesn’t miss the way your subtly rock your hips down. “I was thinking about you when I took them.”

That does it. Images of you picking out that lingerie with him in mind, posing and sucking on your fingers for him, touching yourself while imagining it’s him flash through his mind and it’s too much to handle. Jeno comes with a loud groan of your name, panting shallowly and digging his heels into the mattress. You work him through it, dragging out his pleasure until it’s almost too much and it starts to get painful. A loud whine leaves him and you laugh.

Jeno’s ears are ringing and his brain has turned to mush, so it takes him a while to realize that he’s got an arm locked around your body keeping you anchored to his chest. It also takes him a moment to notice how you grind down against his thigh, how you whimper and moan as you chase that bliss.

He just about comes again when he notices that you’ve got your fingers in your mouth, sucking and lapping at the digits to clean them of his come.

“Fuck,” He groans softly, tensing his thigh and pressing it up against you. “That feel good, baby?”

A hum leaves you, eyes opening to meet his own. You look thoroughly fucked out, sweat beading on your forehead, pupils blown wide with lust. “Yeah, I’m so close.”

Jeno’s hands move without him telling them to, grabbing your hips and pulling you down against his thigh harder, faster. He grips at your ass, loving the way it feels in his palm, and he brings one hand down softly. A slap sounds through the room and you keen, hips stuttering against him.

“Come on baby, let go.” His voice sounds utterly wrecked, deep and gravelly and what was supposed to be a casual phrase comes out as a command. You can’t do anything but moan in response, babbling out some variation of “please, please, I’m so close, I’m so- ohfuck.”

Your pace grows sloppy as you come, sobs leaving you as Jeno forces you to maintain a quick rhythm via his hands on your hips. Watching you fall apart is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He can’t tear his eyes away from you.

“Too much, I can’t- Jeno, I can’t-“ You shake and twitch on top of him and it fills him with satisfaction, seeing that he made you like this. He softens his hold, moving one hand up to your back and anchoring you to his chest. You bury your face into him with a sigh.

Jeno’s content to lay there and rub your back for a bit, maybe get some sleepy cuddles. But you push yourself up onto your forearms and disappointment fills him. He expects you to leave, expects things to be so unbearably awkward between the two of you that you have to move out, expects- well, anything except for the pair of lips pressing to his own.

The kiss takes him by surprise and he makes a muffled noise, taking a moment to coordinate himself enough to kiss back. You’re smiling into the kiss and it makes him smile too, his hand coming up to cup your jaw.

“So you sent me those nudes on purpose.” Jeno teases when you finally pull away, gasping for air. Your eyes widen before you’re shaking your head and giggling.

“No! I actually didn’t. They were meant for Mark, but I was thinking about you when I took them, so I guess my brain decided it would be a good idea to press your name.” You shuffle down a little bit so that your legs fit perfectly with his, limbs tangling together.

Jeno brushes your hair off of your forehead, stroking your scalp softly. You hum and melt into him. “Well, I guess you missed the mark on that one.”

It takes a moment for it to register but when it does, your head snaps up and you glare at him. “That was horrible, oh my God. I’m breaking up with you.”

“But we’re not dating?”

You turn shy, laughing and hiding your face. “Oh yeah. Well, would you maybe, uh, want to?”

Jeno can’t fight the smile that takes over his entire face as he looks at you. He leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I would love to.”

#nct smut #jeno smut #nct dream smut #lee jeno smut #kpop smut #jeno imagines #jeno scenario #nct imagines

4K notes · View notes

consumeconstantly · 4 years

Text

Small Buff Girl Sightings Ch. 5

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

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

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

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

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

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

4:36AM | Coffee Vamp: guys?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damian gives her The Look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” Marinette continues to blush.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are updates on Paris, Damian?”

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

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

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

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

“All right.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodbye, Father.”

“Goodnight, Damian.”

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

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

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

Damian is lonely.

Patrol is a necessary evil.

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

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

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

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

There’s a shadow on the rooftops.

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

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

“Ladybug,” the akuma says.

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

The akuma frowns, tenses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damian,” Ladybug hisses.

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

“How did you know?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What is she supposed to do now?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can call Batman,” he says.

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

“Fine. Call Batman.”

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

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

Damian winces, then speaks into the offered phone.

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

“Are you with Ladybug?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why is Robin restrained?”

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

A moment of silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Marinette looks at Batman, then at Robin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Three years,” Batman says again.

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

“Marinette,” Damian pleads.

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

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

His silence is an agreement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why have all the other heroes disappeared?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” he says.

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

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

They’re both sorry for very different things.

#miraculous ladybug #dcu #mlb x dc #maribat #daminette #batfam #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayso #barbara gordon #sbgs #original content #adrien agreste #lila rossi #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne

212 notes · View notes

all-things-mlqc · 4 years

Note

hi! sorry i dont know if your askbox is open, sorry if its not 😰. If it is, can i ask a scenario for who from more to less if the boys whould have "stronger stomachs", i mean who could deal with more extreme situations. (like a s/o who gets severely hurt, or has a bug acident or dealing with a pregnant s/o who has to deliver at home, etc) Thanks!

Ofc! Asks are open and I’m slowly but surely getting through them doing a few at once as well.

To be honest, the boys all have pretty strong stomachs when it comes to injuries and accidents considering the amount of chaos they’ve already been through. However, they’re all different in a way as well which I will get to. As for pregnancy at home, yeah some of these boys are a mess. Full summaries under the cut!

Victor:

I honestly believe Victor has the weakest stomach among the five of them. As far as we know, he hasn’t been through as much as the others. Sure, he and MC went through some childhood trauma together, but as for more severe incidents, he doesn’t seem to have as much experience. He very much seems like he would have a hard time seeing someone dear to him in an accident and/or severely injured. The same goes for seeing unknown people this way but it hits him a lot harder when it’s someone he knows. We already know this man has anxiety levels at 100 when someone dear to him gets hurt please stop having guards follow me into the women’s bathroom for the LOVE OF GOD IM FINE. But anywho, weak stomach > strong stomach for Victor. More on the weaker side just because he has a shit ton of anxiety and doesn’t want to believe it when he sees it.

Do I have to explain for pregnancy at home? The man is FREAKING O U T. He has called guards, personal doctors, a whole team of people, literally anything his money can buy him to help MC in this situation. He doesn’t know what to do at all and tries to play it off but miserably fails at doing so. Anxiety levels have reached 1000%. His weak stomach here is also mainly from anxiety rather than blood and such but lord help his soul.

Kiro:

SPOILER ALERT. Kiro’s will include spoilers from both the main story and information from his latest rumors and secrets which has not yet been revealed in the main story.

Kiro is a confusing one. The best way to explain it is by putting him in a certain scenario:

One of his very close friends/loved ones has been seriously injured. Upon seeing these injuries and the blood that came with them with his own eyes, he covers his mouth from naseuousness. The idea of someone so dear to him being in such pain—

However, theres a sense of nonchalantness he couldn’t quite make out. While he may not have the strongest stomach after seeing severe injuries, he doesn’t seem as bothered as he expected to be; Almost as if he was used to it. He has an idea why but they’re only fade memories. **CHAPTER 10+ SPOILERS** Having an “alter ego” is difficult considering he doesn’t always remember everything as the other person. Kiro only has partial memories of Helios while Helios only has small fragments of Kiro. But was he really Helios that often to become used to such injuries? He can never remember but he always assumed he was Kiro more than Helios. **Rumors & Secrets Spoiler** While that may be true, Kiro isn’t his core self. Deep deep down, he isn’t Kiro at his core and only became Kiro when instructed to as a child (it was revealed that he was told to become Kiro at a young age. We don’t have too many details on this yet but I’m assuming it was either an experiment tested on him or someone’s evol getting in his head). At his core, he has seen much violence. He has been a pawn for Black Swan and has been on many missions. Blood and injuries don’t faze him in the slightest anymore. He doesn’t like making a mess of things but he also doesn’t hesitate if a job needs to be done. He’s been injured far too many times to care at this point. The reason for Kiro’s calm composure is purely because of how nothing affects him as Helios, but he, as Kiro, does not know this. This also explains Kiro’s serious hacker side as well as Helios’ soft side when it comes to MC. Kiro and Helios act so different yet have very similar traits all because they affect each other as a whole.

Now as for pregnancy, Kiro is surprisingly calm. Sure he’s nervous but he’s a lot more encouraging and reassures MC that everything will be ok. He makes calls, texts for advice and what to do in this situation, but he still remains as cool as ever. He has a pretty strong stomach with pregnancy because he knows and understands the beauty in life. After all, he is our sunshine. Seeing the baby coming doesn’t scare him, it makes him beam with joy as he continues to encourage MC to keep pushing and that she’s doing a great job. He keeps a smile on his face the whole time as to not make MC worry.

Gavin:

Gavin is a complicated one. He has worked with the police force ever since graduating high school. He’s a captain for not only the police force but for the secret evol organization as well. This doesn’t just mean he’s one of the strongest and most intelligent individuals in the force, but also one of the most capable during missions. You can’t freeze in a mission; You can’t hesitate in the slightest. You have to be prepared for anything and everything and that includes serious injuries or even death. You can’t let things like that faze you or you won’t make it. This tells us that Gavin has a pretty strong stomach when considering injuries or accidents. HOWEVER, as told to us in later chapters, Gavin lost his mother in a fire. Because of this, he gets much more anxious and shaken when fires are involved. Eli, Gavin’s partner, also mentioned how Gavin hates fires in general, confirming that fires are unsettling for Gavin. This doesn’t necessarily mean that Gavin can’t handle the situation, but that he has more anxiety when dealing with anything fire related. Anxiety is a different kind of effect on someone’s stomach compared to not being able to handle the sight of blood. Gavin’s weak stomach to fire incidents is purely from stress and anxiety. Other than that, Gavin has one of the strongest stomachs out of the suitors.

As for pregnancy… haha oh lord you bet your ass this man is nearly on the floor. You probably have to do the contraction count for him so he doesn’t pass out, himself. Like I said before, blood doesn’t faze him especially when he knows it’s natural during pregnancy. However, the idea of not having a professional or someone to help you gives him more anxiety than he’s ever had. He only wants you and the baby to be ok. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he suggests the idea of him flying you to the nearest hospital. And to be quite honest, that may even work considering how FAST he flies. Overall, he has a pretty strong stomach here as well. He just has a lot of anxiety when it comes to MC.

Shaw:

**There will also be spoilers on Shaw and his background/where he comes from. I will try to make it as discreet as possible so not too much will be spoiled for those who don’t know yet, so read at your own risk**

Again, this boy has been through thick and thin his whole life. Considering his dad is a big shot in the military/police force as well as some Evol organization, Shaw has very likely seen a lot. Because his father was a very important part of an evol organization, he wanted a child with a powerful evol and ended up having Shaw who possessed an evol at a very young age. And because of this, Shaw was taken away from any family he had and was raised by his bitch of a father if I must say so myself. In later chapters, Shaw takes out a big group of people all by himself and laughs it off (just the kind of person he is, I swear he’s not crazy, he’s just broken on the inside). While Shaw and Lucien are very similar when it comes to being mysterious, I actually think it’s more difficult to read Shaw. He’s very unpredictable so I really don’t know if injuries or accidents faze him more than I believe. However, from what we’ve seen, I don’t think he minds all that much. He has a strong stomach and can handle these sort of events but I can’t say for sure if he hates it deep down or not just because he seems very sad and lonely behind his facade.

As for pregnancy, he’s somewhat in the middle of being calm and freaking out. If any of y’all play Ikemen Vampire, think of Leo in this case. Tries to play stuff off, panics on the inside, but still knows what to do in this situation. He’s more or less quiet in this situation as well. No sassy remarks, more focused and even supportive Shaw? supportive??? Yes he can be a good boy too, he’s just an asshat 99% of the time. I’m also convinced he doesn’t know much on pregnancy considering he doesn’t know WHAT A MCHECCIN DATE IS. But Shaw being Shaw probably knows exactly what to do just because he’s an intellectual little SHIT. To be honest, I feel like he may even have more of a weak stomach when it comes to pregnancy in general. He has this sort of innocence to him so he isn’t fully prepared for what is to come with pregnancy. Especially if MC is delivering at home, he probably has no idea what is right or wrong so seeing something completely natural may make him panic on the inside because he’s really unsure. He just has a natural talent at knowing what to do in situations.

Lucien:

Lucien has seen some shit. Nothing fazes this man, let’s be honest. Out of all the suitors, I believe Lucien has seen the most gruesome and disturbing events this goes without including Helios. **CHAPTERS 10+ SPOILERS AHEAD**

Lucien has practically been a test subject his whole life. His evol is still very confusing to us, but the best way to explain it is by saying he has the ability to “copy” or “steal” evols. There’s not much information covering this yet so I won’t get that far into it, however, he was only one of the many experiments, such as Hades, who have been tested on and survive. Being grown up as an experiment automatically helps develop a stronger stomach for him. Even if he might’ve had a weak stomach as a child, constantly being put through this stuff his whole life surly would’ve had an affect on how much he would be able to handle. Seeing the same stuff over and over again, consistently would eventually build up tolerance to the point where he can handle almost any sort of injuries or accidents. So Lucien has one of the strongest if not the strongest among the group.

Then there’s pregnancy. He is there. He is ready to deliver the baby himself. Yes, he can do that. No, I don’t think he is completely qualified LMAO but let’s be real here, he’s a prodigy and one of the most intelligent people in Loveland City honestly probably even the country. This is like a walk in the park for him. He knows everything about pregnancy MINUS THE PAIN and everything to do in this situation. He keeps a smile on his face the whole time as well. Very loving and supportive while delivering their own baby. The blood and sight of pregnancy doesn’t faze him one bit. He only gets worried when MC looks terribly in pain. He does everything he can to soothe the pain for her and takes care of everything after to let her rest. Honestly hate how amazing of a husband and dad he would be. Overall, he has one hell of a strong stomach with pregnancy and a very strong stomach with accidents/injuries.

47 notes · View notes

smiledog15578 · 4 years

Note

for the ask meme you recently reblogged, how about 📌🎥💕 and 🍀? IM SORRY IF IM OVERDOING THIS BTW you can only answer one of them if you don't feel like doing the others!!! idk i just like hearing people gush about their hyperfixations it makes me really happy :')

📌 how did you find your hyperfixation?

For the fnaf fandom: i found it through my mom! When it came out my mom was like "have you heard of this game" and i said no and she told me about it and at first i was a bit confused. I remember thinking that it was about a sleepover at a guy named freddys HDAJJDJS SO YEA I WAS HELLA CONFUSED but sooner or later i became hooked on it. It really got me into horror stuff (i was a huge scardy cat and still am kinda but not as much as i was back then).

For the markiplier universe: ok so lets get to a cringe moment here. I was a fan of him but i was even a more fan of him in like 2016? And lets just say i got more into it cause of well the septiplier thing which i hate bringing it up but i might as well be honest about it lol ( i hate septiplier now dont worry). But yea that got me more engaged with markiplier and jacksepticeye's content! I eventually grew out of jacks stuff and just stuck with marks content instead. Over time tho ive had an off and on relationship with the markiplier stuff cause i just,,, im slowly growing put of him but then i come back to his stuff its just a love hate relationship lol

💕 tell us about one of your favorite characters and why you like them!

For the fnaf fandom: omg hiw can i decide LMAO. I love almost every character on this story but my all time faves have to be michael or william afton. Michael just seems like a cool dude whos trying to make things right and i love that about a character! Plus he can draw and i wont shut up about that part HFJSJD just little things about character make me go "DKDJKDKD🥺💕💕💕" for no reason lol. And i love william as a character cause hes just so fascinating to me. Plus he feels like a real person whichbis even more terrifying in my opinion (other than the whole him come back to life thing but i hope you get what i mean). Hes not some "haha im edgy and i love knifes haha blood yes blood!!" Type killer (wow i just described my oc lol) but hes got real motives and reasons to killing. I also HDHDJD SORRY BUT i love his voice that PJ gave him. Its so trusting yet like- ew no thanks stranger danger

For the markiplier universe: ANOTHER TRICKY QUESTION LMAO. But my faved have to be wilford and dark as always. Wilford is my favorite cause hes so funny and sweet and just ugh i love that in a character. To me a good trope is cute yet a killer i guess lmao. And i love dark cause hes not a true villian but a villian? He has a villian lool but really he just wants to make things right and is overall a sweet heart as the santa ego said lol

🍀 do you have any kins or comfort characters from your hyperfixation?

From the fnaf fandom: OH YES I DO. I dont kin (i dont think😳) but Michael is a huge comfort character for me! Oh and also vanny too. Them bitches help me alot when im sad or just need something to daydream about

For the markiplier fandom: hmm probably dark,wilford, and yan HDJEJ THE FAM THING IVE BEEN DOING FOR LIKE YEARS. something about that dynamic fills a hole in my heart that really makes me happy. Now i wouldnt say i have such a terrible family or anything! I love my family to bits but when things get difficult with my own family i kinda escape to that :)

#i wrote so much JFJEJFJY MY APOLOGIES

15 notes · View notes

imagine-myhero · 5 years

Note

hello, love! could i please request smth like katsuki having a crush on the reader and basically the whole class knows except for the (v oblivious) reader and one day they just come up to katsukis desk and are like 'i know your secret, bakugo!!! you have an all might fanpage!!!!' and then idk. haha i just find the idea really cute. if you dont want to do it its fine too~ thank u~

Author’s Note: I hope you like this! Thanks for being my first Tumblr request

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Humiliating.

That’s all Bakugo can think as every single one of his classmates’ heads turn to look at him knowingly, some with teasing smiles, when you walk into the classroom that morning.

Fucking humiliating.

He grits his teeth and tried to hold back from exploding on everyone because that’ll just make it worse. And way more obvious, too.

“Hey Katsuki.” You greet cheerfully, setting your bag down and sitting in the desk behind him. Bakugo just grunts in acknowledgement, keeping his attention and deadliest of glares on Kaminari, who had begun making kissy faces at him with Ashido snickering from beside him.

“Katsukiiii, don’t just grunt at me like that. Say hi~!” You scold him playfully, poking the back of his shoulder. The soft whine of his name makes Katsuki’s ears hot and hands sweaty. His reaction only beckons louder snickers from the god damn loser’s corner over there that— fuck, the laughter has spread all over the classroom now. Great.

You don’t seem to notice and only smile sweetly at him, patiently awaiting a proper greeting.

How he came to develop feelings for someone as jovial and sugary sweet as you is a complete mystery to him, and infuriating too. The class has a pretty much limitless arsenal of jokes against Bakugo thanks to your flirtatious and playful displays of affection that prompt strange responses from him.

The worst part? You don’t even mean to come across as flirty. Being cute as fuck is just sort of who you are. Bakugo is all but certain you’re just being nice, and wouldn’t date a raging hothead like him if he were the last person on earth. That’s why he’s trying to hold himself back around you, so you don’t get put off even more by his total lack of empathy.

“Kacchan? You okay?” You ask him when he doesn’t answer, using that damned nickname you learned from that damned Deku, and he’s unfortunate enough to catch a glance at the worried pout on your pretty lips.

He looks away quickly, only to see Kirishima giving him an encouraging smile and nod from his desk with an enthusiastic thumbs up that’s not nearly even a little bit subtle.

Katsuki sinks into his chair, wanting nothing more than to blow up everyone in this class including himself, and clenches his fists in his pockets. He is totally convinced he can’t hold it in any longer if even just one more extra—.

“Yeah, you okay, lover boy?” Mineta mocks from his desk behind you with a heavily misplaced sense of confidence from the classroom’s atmosphere.

That’s it.

With only the loud screeching of his chair to warn anyone, Bakugo is at Mineta’s desk in an instant holding the boy midair by his face. Mineta is thrashing around, sobbing hysterically, and begging profusely for mercy.

“Hm? ‘Lover boy’?” You repeat with a confused expression, looking up at him. Bakugo’s hand tightens impossibly on the purple-haired boy’s face, making him shriek. Yep, he’s gonna kill this ball-haired bitch.

“Sit. Down.” Aizawa demands with a glowing red glare as he enters the classroom. Katsuki almost doesn’t listen, but when he hears the unraveling of Aizawa’s capture weapon he relents. He drops the weeping boy on the ground and stalks back to his desk, crossing his arms and glaring out the window.

He spends the rest of the class daydreaming of ways to beat the shit out of his classmates. In fact, he doesn’t even notice the lunch bell ring and the rest of the class filing out of the room for their break.

“Psst.” You whisper, poking him in the back with your pencil. Katsuki snaps out of it when he feels the prodding. He sees that the classroom is empty, save for the two of you. He looks back at you and is reminded of the hell that had been his morning, but his fantasies of violence has helped him calm down a bit and he no longer is on the verge of a rampage anymore.

“I was thinking of what Mineta said earlier,” You began.

Oh no. Katsuki feels all the rage he felt before rushing back to him, but this time he also felt… a little scared.

A wide smile spreads across your face as you stand up and walk around his desk to fully face him. Katsuki doesn’t know what to feel because no he definitely was not scared— no goddamn way. Still, he holds his breath when you open your mouth to speak.

“You have an All Might fanpage, don’t you?!” You declare, pointing your finger at him, “He’s pretty much the only person you look up to, and I saw how passionate you were during the final exams when you were up against him. You totally have one, don’t you? That’s gotta be it.” You explain with a look of proud accomplishment on your face.

Katsuki stares wide-eyed back at you. He thinks he tastes blood in his mouth, probably from the ulcer that just formed in his stomach and ruptured with shock all in the last 60 seconds. Katsuki feels such a rush of emotions: relief, amusement, exasperation, and of course anger.

“What?! Do I fucking look like Deku or something to you?!” He growls at you, doing everything to hold back from shouting like he usually would, and a part of him wonders why he didn’t just roll with it to avoid what he knew would come next.

“Huh? Well then... what did he mean?” You ask curiously, tilting your head. Katsuki grits his teeth. This is torture, he decides. Fuck holding back. Fuck this suffering in silence bullshit. Fuck the whole class giving him shit for secretly liking you. He is the best, damn it. He’s gonna be the number one hero in the world someday, he can ask a damn person out!

“Go out with me.” Katsuki demands, standing up from his chair because he felt way too closed in under your kind and gentle gaze. Well, so much for the asking part.

“Huh? But...it’s raining outside.” You respond, looking reluctantly out the window where a light drizzle had begun to fall. Katsuki isn’t sure if you’re trying to let him down nicely or you’re just that fucking dumb.

“On a date, idiot.” He snaps. Not a great way to word it, but seriously, only someone who has absolutely zero interest would be this damn oblivious anyway. At this point, he’s just doing this to get it over with and get the rest of the class off his back once they see you avoiding the shit out of him after this for at least the rest of the year. His mangled ego will take the hit if it means this will finally be over.

Love or whatever it is fucking sucks.

“I’d love to…” You answer uncharacteristically quietly. Katsuki almost doesn’t hear you, but the furious blush on your face confirms it.

You would?

Katsuki stares at you for a moment, before breaking out into a wide smirk.

Of course you would. He’s damn amazing. The best actually. And the best only deserves the best. He should have done this sooner.

Wait, why are you looking at him like that? Shit, what is he supposed to do now? Fuck, what’s a good date idea? A sparring match? No, idiot. The gym? No! Shit.

“The weather is supposed to be nice this weekend. Want to go for a hike?” You suggest, stammering a little at first and still blushing. Katsuki stares at you in surprise. He didn’t expect that idea from you. He loves it. Climbing real mountains is sure as hell a lot better than the figurative one he’s been climbing all this time. Especially if it’s with you.

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds… good.” He agrees lamely.

“Great!” You say excitedly, plopping into the desk in front of him and pulling out your cellphone and a notebook. “I’ll look up some hiking trails! I’ll pack snacks and you can bring the water. Is it okay if I bring my dog? Oh, maybe we should…”

Katsuki listens to you ramble, amused and relieved that you’re back to your normal, bubbly self and glad that the awkward exchanges are finally over. He sits back down in his desk and listens to you talk his ear off, adding his input here and there, and lunch completely forgotten by the both of you.

#bnha #bnha x reader #katsuki bakugo #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia #bnha fluff #bnha imagines #mha

546 notes · View notes

boywivlove · 4 years

Text

| Lutz | 01

Chapters | 02

Pairing: Past Hoseok x Reader | Eventual Jimin x Reader

Genre: Figure skating AU | Slight angst | Fluff

Words: 1K +

Summary : After your last performance at the Junior world championships leaves you with a broken leg, your longtime boyfriend and team mate Jung Hoseok decides to partner with someone else and sign with a new agency for the next competition, leaving you behind with the remains of a severed relationship. 2 years go by and your leg has long since healed, but a nasty blow to your confidence has put you off the idea of return to the competition circuit after being left behind. But when a chance meeting with an old friend catches you by surprise, you find yourself with a new partner. And after working hard you end right back where everything went wrong. But this time your going to show just far you’ve come.

Warnings : Mentions of broken bones and injury | some strong language |

Authors Note: Heyyyy SO Im still here haha, Ive been so busy with work and getting ready for christmas Ive not had time to write, but hopefully people are still here and want to read my skater AU hahah >W<

Its funny how things can change so quickly. You feel like everything just fits together, like a jigsaw portraying the image of your perfect life. You never really think about the perfection shattering like a mirror and you, being left to pick up the pieces of your once perfect reflection. Some things are just not meant to last forever I guess.

It was currently autumn time in your small little town, the leaves had long since shifted from lush greens into the beautiful hues of orange and red, like fire lining the cobbled streets. The chill in the air calling for thick winter wear and stalls of delicious hot foods perfect for this kind of weather. Yet as you walk the busy street, your once beloved time of year now only brought you broken memories and an ache in your bones you couldn’t seem to shift.

You readjusted your messenger bag as you opened the door to the small coffee shop, the bell chiming as you felt the warmth kiss your frostbitten cheeks. It had been two years to the day when your dreams were ripped away from you. It was in this very cafe that you remember every detail of that night, every word he spoke to try and make you see his point of view, as if to soften the blow of his abandonment. Who was he trying to kid? His name was Jung Hoseok, Jhope in the figure skating circles. Yes, THAT Jung Hoseok. Lovable bad boy Pro skater Jung. god. damn. Hoseok. It was such a bad break up, if you could call it a break up. More like complete abandonment in your opinion. Who the hell abandons their girlfriend and skating partner for competition? Him thats who.

It all happened at the junior world championships. You and Hoseok had been partners for 10 years, ever since you could balance on your skates. and for 5 years you had been a couple going strong. All the training you put in had led up to that moment, the moment to prove yourselves and be scouted out by the mass of agencies that had attended in hopes of snatching some new blood. It was finally your turn and you both breezed through the routine, the toe loops? no sweat. the Salchows were child’s play for you both. But then came the triple lutz. You had practices this particular move almost a hundred times and every time you were near perfect. But that one particular moment. The one time you needed to be flawless, lady luck decided fortune was not in the cards for you. You lost footing mid air and Boom. One broken femur and a trip to the hospital later you felt your ego bruised and your chances of being talent scouted shot.

It was two months later into your recovery Hoseok had asked you to meet at the cafe you sat in now, four booths over in fact. You had arrived a little late due to your injury inconvenience. He had ordered your favourite hot drink, peppermint hot chocolate and asked how you were. You didn’t think nothing of it but he had been distant since the accident. It wasn’t anything you felt you had to worry about, you were confined to the house the majority of your time after being released from the hospital so it was natural to you you hadn’t seen him in weeks. It was only when he cleared his throat and bit his lip you knew something was on his mind, it was a habit he had since he was a kid. Time seemed to slow down in that moment as your world caved in from under you.

“hey listen,, this is a little hard for me to say…”

“oh? is everything alright? I know we haven't been able to practice in a while but once im all healed-”

“no no its,,, look Y/N ill be straight with you.”

“ o- ok?”

“Y/N,, I want to go somewhere with my figure skating. and with you off the ice for the foreseeable,,,, I dont think I can go anywhere.”

“ oh… uh- so,, are you saying you want to go solo?”

“Not quite,,, aghhh listen, after your accident I realised were on different levels in our skating, this just proves it. This competition should have been easy for us and you go and break your leg for fucks sake,”

“oh like it was my intention to make an idiot of myself out there? How can you blame me for that?! Hoseok if you just wait we can work, I can work on my routines. i ca-”

“Y/N I cant say thins any other way but, I got a call from the S.F.S.A and they want me in their program. They’ve partnered me with a great skater and she-”

“Wait… you've already signed with them,,, and got a new partner. Hoseok I cant… I cant believe you. We always said we skate together or not at all. and you know how much I wanted us to get into S.F.S.A TOGETHER? Its like you dont care about anything we worked towards… and just because I broke my leg? … I just. I cant believe you.”

“come on Y/N dont be like this. This is a big opportunity for me. The Seoul Figure Skating Association in a BIG deal. I thought you’d understand. Your my girlfriend why are you being like this”

“Im HURT Hobi!? The slightest inconvenience and you throw me away? ,,,”

The silence was deafening as the two of you sat in that booth, The lighting overhead made Hobis blonde tips look almost white, and your eyes shimmer with unshed tears. It was as if the Hobi you knew, the man you’d loved since childhood had disappeared the moment he sat down. After all the hard work and effort you had put in, both in your teamwork and relationship, was it all for nothing.

“I dont think this is gonna work between us anymore… Things, things change. People change and, I want this Y/N. I cant wait for you anymore.”

Those few sentences broke your heart. With nothing else to say to him you stood up, your crutches steadying you as you said nothing, what could you say to someone who just threw away everything you had together for a chance at bettering his career,,, a career you both put so much effort into. A career he was perusing with someone new. Hoseok stood with you when you struggled to adjust your bag around your head, he looked as though he wanted to help you, but the angry tears threatening to spill out of your reddening eyes was enough to tell him not to. As you made your way to the entrance you looked back at him, his face was masked in an almost pained expression, his cheeks were starting to pinken and his jaw was shaking slightly as thought he was about to cry. You left the shop before you could hear him saying its for the best. if that was what he thought then he can leave you. You were just thrown to the kerb and in that moment. your perfect world had shattered. your reflection left broken into pieces on the floor.

So, two years later and here you sit, in the same cafe, looking over to the booth your whole life came crashing down. Your leg had healed well, and you took back to the ice almost instantly to train yourself up again, but after the pain of losing your partner on and off the ice, you just couldn’t find the confidence you once had. It was as if your competitive lust for figure sating had left you with Hobi. It was after your loss of confidence your mental health took an even bigger hit, you felt yourself declining from the world and the people around you as you just got by day to day. You felt you could heal from what happened physically, but not mentally. But all grey clouds have a silver lining, days went by, the sun came up, and you eventually felt like yourself again. It took a lot, but it was the lack of self confidence in yourself that led you to your current occupation, your local ice rink had an opening for the overseeing the beginners lessons for ages 5-10, as much as you wished you could get back to being the skater you once were, the kids have grown on you. Your days that were filled with dull moping around the now very single woman’s apartment was now filled with tiny rosy cheeked little faces eager to learn. and everyday you felt yourself becoming more and more like yourself. And its this part of your life when you meet someone who turns it all around for you.

#btsbookclub #armysource #jung hoseok fanfic #jung hoseok x reader #jung hoseok #hobi x reader #hobi fanfic #jhope x reader #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts ice skating au #ice skating au #bts figure skating au #park jimin x reader

66 notes · View notes

regular-nessian-trash · 4 years

Text

It's Vegas, Baby

As Nesta removed her jacket and put her gods-awful heels on she couldn't help but wonder if Cassian was on duty tonight. It was Friday, one of the days of the week when most creeps went out to prey on drunk girls, so he would probably be keeping an eye out just in case they tried anything. She didn't know why having Cassian around made her feel safe. She hated him. His jokes and his stupid smirk and his dumb face and his muscular body and his- "Nesta? You're looking a little flushed there. Thinking of me again?" Cassian smirked at her, his eyes sparkled with mischief.

"As a matter of fact, yes, I am. I'm thinking of your giant ego and suffering from second-hand embarrassment at the thought of what it must be like to be so incompetent that the only job you can get is a pity job from your brother." She looked him dead in the eye flipped her hair, walked past him, and clocked in. She didn't know why she said that. She knew that Cassian had earned his position here and that he could get any job he wanted. He just chose to work with his brothers. He just made her say things she knew she would regret.

"Hey, Rhys."

"Something wrong, Nes?"

"Just Cassian. He just won't leave me alone for, like, five seconds."

"The sexual tension is getting to us all Nesta. Don't worry, you aren't alone in your frustration."

"This is why I don't talk to you."

"Seriously though, just put us all out of our misery and bang. Please."

"You disgust me." Nesta left the staff room and began to walk around the club Rhys owned, trying to ignore the disgusting comments she was overhearing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cassian could barely contain himself when he saw Nesta putting on her silver heels with straps made to resemble stars. And the dress she was wearing... He saw her whenever they had work the same night, which was often, but the way she looked dressed in the uniform Rhys had all the girls wear... It felt like he was on fire when he saw her. But of course, she couldn't know how he really felt about her so he just stuck to his usual riling her up before she walked away or Rhys had to physically pull him away. He didn't know why he felt the need to conceal his feelings. She probably didn't feel the same anyways.

"You disgust me." He heard Nesta mutter at Rhys.

"Finally something Nesta and can I agree on. Our hatred for you."

"Haha. Very funny, Cassian. Get out there before I fire you."

"You wouldn't!" Cassian said with a hand clutching his chest.

"I would. Now go make sure those pigs keep their hands off the girls." Rhys gave him a pointed look before walking away. Cassian turned to walk into the main club area but stopped dead in his tracks. The same group of guys it always was, harassing his- Nesta. Harassing Nesta. She wasn't his anything. He didn't know what their obsession with Nesta was about. They rarely bothered any of the other workers. He began walking towards them, prepared to kick them out until Nesta leaned over and whispered something into their "leader"s ear. Suddenly they all got up and left. It always went like this. Right when he was about to kick them out Nesta would whisper something to their leader and they would all leave. No matter how many times he asked her, Nesta would never tell him what she said to them.

"I keep telling you I can handle it, Cassian. I knew what the cons of the job were when I saw the application. I'm not scared of some guy who thinks he can intimidate me." Nesta's words interrupted his train of thought.

"I don't think you can't handle it, I just think I can make your job easier if I get those guys kicked out for good."

"No matter what you do they will keep coming back, Cassian. I know you feel like you can get rid of them but nothing you do or say will cause me to forget him. I mean to ignore them!" Nesta looked worried like she had said something she didn't want to.

"Well tell me what I can do to help you at least!" Cassian was trying not to yell at Nesta since they were still standing in the VIP club area.

"Unless you can convince Rhys to change his opinion on these outfits he makes us wear, I don't think so Cassian." Nesta pushed him out of her way and began to walk towards a group of middle-aged men, Cassian had to physically force himself not to go after her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nesta tried not to look back at Cassian as she walked away. She knew Rhys loved these outfits, hell she loved these outfits. They made her feel powerful. So she didn't know why she said that to Cassian. She shook her head, put on a mysterious smirk, and let her mind detach from her body as she slinked towards the group of men that had just entered the VIP section of the club.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cassian stalked towards Rhysands office, trying not to let his anger shine through. He knocked once and before he even got a signal from Rhys telling him he could enter he barged in.

"Can I help you, Cassian?" Rhys looked up from his desk, his face a mask of calm and collectedness.

"Yes. You can. I want you to change the uniforms that Nesta and the other girls' have to wear. The way people interact with them clearly makes them uncomfortable and I feel like it would benefit my job if I was actually able to keep an eye on people instead of kicking out some guy that got a little too handsy."

"First of all, wouldn't it benefit your job even more if you were actually out there? Secondly, I feel like this is less for personal gain and the other girls. I noticed you brought up Nesta. Anything you would like to tell me about your relationship with her?"

"We are not in a relationship and you know it."

"What are you then, Cassian? Because everyone here knows you want to be more than friends. Why don't you just fu-"

"Enough!" Cassian slammed his fists on Rhys's desk and stormed out. He didn't care if he was fired. He wasn't some high school boy with a crush, he was a grown man. Rhys had no right to ask him about Nesta or to say those things to him. He was just trying to help better the business and-

"Cassian? Are you okay?" Nesta. The bane of his existence, but somehow also the reason for it.

"Not now, Nesta. I'm not in the mood."

"Oh, I'm sorry for being genuinely concerned when I saw you storm out of Rhys's office with a big frown on your face." Nesta looked hurt, but he couldn't stop to talk to her while she was in that damn outfit.

"I really need to get going, Nesta."

"Just tell me you didn't get fired. Please, Cassian." Was that genuine fear on her face?

"No, Nesta. I wasn't fired. I just got into an argument with Rhys. I need some time to cool off."

"Oh. Okay well, I'm leaving now too so I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye..." Did Nesta Archeron just willingly converse with him? And was that genuine concern on her face when she asked if he was fired? Tonight was beginning to look up. :)

NOTES:

please dont attack me! :( i haven’t been updating anything recently because i just haven’t been doing very well mentally but i decided that i need to try power through and update because i really enjoy writing and reading fanfics so im going to try and find time to update more! also... ngl i’ve been really into elorcan fics lately lol ;P

10 notes · View notes

nocancer · 5 years

Text

Tryna by Cancer moon

Before Young T went to bed he poured a glass of water and looked out the kitchen window to his backyard and noted how the snow made 3:00 A.M. look like 6:00 P.M.. Only difference being that if he stepped outside with his glass of water to the seeming twilight he wouldn’t be able to hear the rush-hour traffic like he usually could if it was Friday and 6:00 P.M.. Young T didn’t bother going outside because the snow was still falling a little and it’d be there when he woke up. And the neighborhood would still be silent, as it always was.

Young T woke up and his fan was still humming its white noise which he needed to sleep at night even though it was January and his dad was reluctant to leave the heat on over night. The small fan sat on his dresser and was pointed away from his bed towards his window which emitted a sharper and more blinding afternoon light than what he was used to. He checked his phone for the time, it was about noon - about the time where his parents bedroom door would open and their TV would blast the local news and his persian cat, Jo Jo, would meow at his door from which would force him out of bed to open the door so Jo Jo could jump up on his bed to sleep on his pillow from which he would either start his day or keep doing nothing. This time he laid back down, idly on his bed, with the covers pulled over his head to lessen the effects of his slight cat allergy. Jo Jo had a flat face and was grey and fat, and he occupied the entire pillow. Young T thought of how he wanted to trade lives with Jo Jo.

Young T couldn’t fall back to sleep, so he looked at his phone. He bireifly looked at worldstarhiphop, Twitter, then Instagram.

Then he went to bed with a head ache and woke up in college.

9/27/17 wednesday

Tycho: excuse me, hey, getting along just fine, I see? Yolandra: hey, and yeah, sort of, just studying, whats going on with you T: Nothing, the usual, i guess, being responsible, trying not to offend anyone. Y: Oh but you're so innocent. If anyone's offended its on them, not you. T: But my presence alone, I dont know, like I'm out of place or something. And I just want to tell people, Yeah, so, I know how strange it is, me being here and all. Y: You're a free spirit amongst prisoners. That was my favorite part about getting to know you.

Tycho: After all these years, not for a second did i think you were right for me. And thats why i liked you. Cus I'm crazy. Yolandra: thats okay? what do you mean?, i want to get inside your head again. T: [pause] Most people wouldnt understand. Y: Don't be too cool for school. Im not most people. If I knew what was good for me, I'd have cut ties with you a long time ago. But im a crazy bitch too. Havent you realized? T: Yes. Youre highly psychic when it comes to "free spirits" like me - and you, though maybe, "lost soul" would be a better term for me. Though I dont mind being lost. It keeps things interesting. Anyway, you should spend your energy on solving world hunger than worrying about me. Y: dont be so difficult. catching vibes isnt easy you know? coming for your type. Who knows, maybe youre worth it. Tycho: well, your the first to try me like this. im mysterious for a reason. Yolandra: And do you know why exactly? T: Thats for me to decide. Y: It's so damn frustrating. But I guess some things are better left unsaid. T: Most people wouldnt understand that, what youre saying. Indescribable feelings we know happened but fall short in explaining. That sort of thing. Y: I call those. "You had to be there" moments. Tycho: Honestly i never gave up on you, only myself, thinking you were different from my dream girl. it took months for me to realize that but when i did the only thing i wanted to do was forget i ever met you. Yolandra: than what? T: the rest of these simple people that surround us, they see in a way thats opposite of what i am. Y: how convenient it must be. to blame your problems on people you dont even know. and just say "fuck it." I envy you. T: just my luck haha. of being born into myself, my personality forgive me, i dont mean to be such a downer. thats my ego talking Y: you had to be there T: where? Y: in my memories. T: it matters that much to you? Y: if I could find you in a crowd, just to say something, anything, even if i have to scream it in your ear, then you'd know how much it means to me. Tycho: I'll be waiting for you to say hola.

9/30/17 saturday In the midst of an obnoxious trap beat I remember what my grandpa used to tell me. It's the harsh realities of life that stick with us the most. A dream is only a dream until you make it come true. Never hit a women no exceptions." He would say to a 7 year old me. Now I wish I had the balls back then to tell him that his strict army ass probably never had a dream that went beyond what he already knew. Like revisiting the same shitty cloud of meaningless thoughts every night till you reincarnate into someone who revisits a slightly less shitty cloud over and over until they become someone like me, who lives on the cloud everyone strives to be, forgetting those elvish looking folks of the below who never leave the house except to get groceries. There's comes a point in life where you just gotta be honest with yourself, and say hey, i just dont match the freqeuncy anymore. It's okay. I can still pretend like that one MGMT song, but im fading away. Fuck. I get naseous and imagine a cop coming around the corner which kills my vibe for a second so I take my headphones off, spit on my finger tip, ash the blunt, and walk to my dorm. I'm in water so muddy that the surface is all I have to cling onto. What lies beneath is my past, housing the memories like demons. Of course, her face, would be in the middle. Falling more faintly in detail as I wake up sober and go to sleep high and dream nonsense that somehow doesnt go away like the usual forgotten dream you usually wouldnt give a second thought to otherwise but this morning my head feels foggy and theres a vague recollection of a search going on but I dont know what it's for and my chances of knowing diminish as I go deeper into the day. A search, it's on repeat, like my brain is an actual TV. Thats probably a normal thought to have, though I've never heard it in real words. "Is my brain a TV." I say to myself. if you can call it that. but those take the shape of monsters of which, as if I had no choice, I find myself preparing for so when the moment really matters, I can either go down in a blaze of glory or come out on top like the badass I imagine myself to be. All I know is that I was born and now I have to live.

Maybe because my past is so glaringly depicted onto a person I refuse to acknowledge. All that shit was a dream. The only thing that matters is the present, right? Bill Nye the Science Guy would agree with that. Back in elementary whenever we had a sub for the day, a cart would roll in and thats how you knew. I watched his show in elementary school, when we had a substitute teacher. Those were the best days. I had no worries then, able to speak freely with no inhibitions as if duality had nothing to latch its mechanical claws onto. Wait, I'm thinking about the past again. And thats going way back. Fuck! Okay.. On your feet soldier! That baby momma drama dont fly out here in the real world. out here it's the winners and the losers, haves and the have-nots, thats the way it is.

We're here to endure anxiety. I dont care about this slave shit. I think im gonna drop out. These fucking people bro, I shouldve known better than to come here. Deep down in the recesses of my highly realized capacity for recognizing everyday objects I'm hearing the voice my computer makes. It just so happens that I'm a little different from everyone else. I see things. Feel them. Some are expressed. Others proccessed. Though most get put away for later. These things I speak of is all they'll ever be to Some bad. Some good. But in the end I understand the root cause is nothing and thats where I pretty much exist anyway. In between any and all things, including people. At least that what it feels like. So although I may come off as shy and maybe a bit soft to the average layperson I aint no bitch and I wont hesitate to put my body on the line to make some headway when it comes to cementing my place as a savage demon in the halls of said layperson's memory bank. Someone who is wise would recognize the virtue of my conviction It is only because I must prepare for that singular moment, an unknown point in the fabric of time and space. To where if theyre not careful, a life's worth of energy should be pitted against me as if one were to stand a chance against the power housed within my vessle. Theres no such thing as a polite gesture. Nobody asks me how my day is "going" for no other reason than to relay to me how their own special day is "going". reckoning between a humble acknowledgement that I can never truly grasp the reason for existing and therefor should play my part in keeping the peace, versus pure badass in a world of sheep. And the more I get to know my surroundings, the more I reach erradically for the inherent bliss found within the path of satanism.

000t333g922276888o

Spmewhere off in the distance, Crermoth sits on a palm tree idly sculpting astral suspensions into a tattered fervor of mesh for working the keys of ineptitude. She is oblivious to her surroundings, not caring for chatty and gossip which she cant seperate between her reality and theirs because she is sensitive and when the the fully recognized sage, Esoh, confronts her about she says she much prefers it that way.

Their balance among them. With the wind at her side, Hojihka refuses the initial preference of her stillness and moves in a nameless precession by the whim of her ancestral birth right. "aaa may-ee soo shay-noo"

Her possession wakes up without a name. a new and more elaborate transposition of jubilee onto each successive indifference. The attention to one area renders the outer confines a vacuum enveloping the excess span unto both of their liable to taken over like a plain, sole, unconscious will. It certainly does its job Crermoth and has become something of a plan b pill thats taken during one of her many unpredictable episodes of self hate and general spiritual torment. One time she told J-Money she was a demon in a matter of factness that still haunts J-Money in moments when he pretends it doesnt bother him.. Reliant upon the interaction of her world and the next. Crermoth normally prefers being to herself on nights like these, that way she can answer any calls at a moments notice. A dimension close enough so that she may assist her friends in earthly manners of which, by the natural law of limitation, those lacking the incessant nobility of the Orisha cannot be bothered to see to themselves, less the tether between her world and theirs be rendered a useless tattered fervor of mesh that gives way to any varitable knock of an over arching brood of usurpment of the mundane frequency. “I need space. I only have but so much light of see to her calling as a being of light, assisting the pieces of herself that we’re lost during the falling. You remember that don’t you?” She says “Of course I remember. But only as a matter of fact. Upon closer reflection I fail to see the relevance of a subtle hunch with no bearings in the present.”

I must know that I’m allowed to be straight up with you, else I run the risk of straying from my calling. If there’s anything I hate more than being ignored its catching myself being lazy to the voices. “She musn’t veer to far.” Esoh said on a mountain.

999c4477P72222cv555566

The woman wakes up to look around. Store-bought soil, empty bike-rack, office building. "Harder. Think harder. Come on girl." She stands for dignity's sake. A car traces a hilltop in the distance. She raises her cold arms to the sun in defiance of stillness. Nothing is in tune with the nature of her being besides the stale wind of a coming day. "Where are you?" The car freezes as it reaches the horizon, but the sound remains on loop. Whirrrrr A portal manifests abruptly and Elegua arrives on a chariot of skulls. "Erzulie, madame, how nice it is to see you this early in the morning." A whisp of fire cleans her face and the car continues over the horizon. "It really shouldnt be, not like this. Where Im at should tell a lot you know." Erzulie said. "Quite a dense reply to a longtime friend, dont you think" "Hmm, considering how I slept in a bush last night and dont remember a thing. I shouldnt need to explain myself." "No? is the friz on your hair not matching the blood on your knees? I can't tell which." Elegua said. Or is the attitude possessing you as if theres no consequence for ill-manneredness? I cant tell which." So long as one's not so dense up his selfish ass that he aint notice." "Oh so now all a sudden you about the finer things in life? We can switch places less you miss me. Erzulie said. Im only pointing out the obvious." Elegua said. Erzulie replied with silence, forcing life to flash before his eyes. She learned this from her Mother, Darkness. "Attitude is possessing you. I cant tell why but its a poison I dont deserve. I was only trying to help" He continued. "I just dont fuck with being called too early. So long as youre not too dense up your ass to take notice, safe to say i'm in some shit right now." "Clearly. A product of consequence." Elegua said randomly. "Yeah, recognize. Please, for me, baby?" "No more testing your patience, Goddess immortal of justice. Save that for what I came to tell you about." "Take me to cleanliness, saintly promise of wisdom. For im not feeling myself." They left the scene to the past and pondered on the pyramid they had just made with each other. "It's nice to be home." Erzulie said. Flying over the palm trees brought Elegua back to his power. "On the basis of love." Elegua said. The salt-water washed away all glimpses of doubt Erzulie had of her beauty. And she harnessed the pastels of the ocean. Thus, all guilt was abolished and unconditional love was convinced to dance within them. Drying his body under the rays of Amen reminded Elegua of his first words. Long ago, before Time was born. "O Father, you are so brilliant." "Thank you, son. I am the Light" "Then tell me, Father, if you are the Light, and are so brilliant, then why is it you flee from Darkness?" "All I do is my purpose, which seeks to balance harmony with creation. Although it is much more complicated than that. Like always I suppose. I'm afraid you ask me a question that I cannot answer. Here, because you are so curious, I will show you." "I'm ready, Father." Light grew brighter causing Elegua to cry in his recollection of what it felt like to say words. The links in his mind straining to pull in the right words. Not too plain to where the moment would be lost in happen stance, and not too radical so that his manhood could stay irrefutable (to convey meaning.) Then Light disintegrated into everything and Elegua searched for Light ever since. So Elegua went to the crossroads, and prodded Darkness for Light's wherabouts, "I want to relive the the moments before he left for eternity. Where can I find him?" Without a hug or a kiss, she told him to let go of his experience in order to live in the now, "Take his place and move forward. Grow up, your Daddy's gone cus you never did." "How could you say that me? I love you, Mom. Yet all I get is hate. Why are you hiding the truth from me?" "If I don't hate you, then who will? You got so much to learn that my heart breaks into brass. You must leave, understand me? LEAVE, before I do what your Father did and them some. I'm this close. Believe me." With nowhere else to go, Elegua obeyed the commands of his Mother. Although lonely at first, the spirits of the dead related to his despair, and offered to guide him through all the known and unknown realms of Ether, so long as he guided the spirits of the living to his Mother. So that the dead could learn for themselves the origins of their being dead. And when Light came back, they could say "Father, we know of Hate, now teach us Love." Elegua tried telling them that it was hopeless, that his Father was there, just not in the way they imagined, that they we're actually his Father and they had to realize it through an altered perception. but that negativity only made them more adament to their cause which annoyed Elegua into a manic spell of existential irony which persisted during times of war with the Snakes on 5th density. One battle in particular Badly wounded, he pulled his chariot with his arms to the middle of a corn-field on a full-moon during the Solstice, it was there he made a pact with his self, to never be ignorant to the fact that fate was an inescapable constant within all contributors to existence. That the very fabric that distinguishes the dead from the living was comprised of scattered shards of an indestructable essence that attached itself to the spirit-body via fate which is the Father of destiny. That the collective conscious is woven by the thread of Fate, thus binding a common goal, or Destiny, inherent to all beings of both polarities, thus setting in motion the spiral of gnosis, which lends itself to the spreading of keys that open the doors to helping each other fulfill each others Purpose. "I will collect the pieces of my Father so that I may speak with him again as I did as a child. I will never forget you because I love you. You are everything to me, which is all I ever could be. Please, I want to know why you flee in the face of Darkness."

____10/9/17 monday

My pace quickens as I veer away from the crowd onto the handicap stairs. I silently count my steps to give off a pensive, non-assuming vibe. Over by the quad theres crows just walking on the grass. Yet I'm the only one who seems to notice, even from a distance. The busses haul ass down Memorial St. I've learned to always be on alert because I'll never know whats waiting for me when I turn my attention off the floor and become reminded of string theory. Artificial energy, cork boards with grime on the edges, tunnel of dull ends, spongy plywood cielings. as i step with my head down and in every so sudden a demarcation in the bricks, the reptiles answer emails. This is where I'm going. Because my soul chose to live here at some point in time not too long ago considering the relationship between all that the universe has to offer and my general apathy towards said all as in any and all one. Which has become quite of a bore ever since the first week ended I had to come to terms with the reality that friends won't simply fall into my lap like they would if I wasnt such a masochist for being lonely. The row of pillars turn to one and all I see is the contentment in the air of the lobby. In the hallway are casually turned faces which glide about in a linear fashion like the ghost of a lost bride.. I get a side-view of the people afraid to admit that this is far from the paradise we expected it to be. The brochure in our acceptance letters didn't include the drunken nights of another dimension. I'm inside the life of an architect. One who's dead by now, but lives on through his work. I'm not going anywhere, the building would say, if it could talk. And I suppose it can. Because I just had the thought, and nothing is ever truly wrong without another thought to compare it to. But then if buildings could speak existed first, and was allowed to grow and find its place in the universe, then it'd be established enough to not warrant an adversary. But the question remains where, if it existed, was its fate organized before coming into my mind, awaiting my final judgement. Substitute me for a unicellular collective conscious and it seems like we're all dealers of fate her on planet earth of the milky way of the universe of the whatever comes next (should we ever know for sure). he or she deserves all the credit for it manifesting onto the grid of my consciousness, which is a zig zag joint's worth of a high right now. The perfect amount for not giving a fuck while still staying slick enough for witty comebacks. Which wouldn't hurt right now. This building isn't going anywhere. Though I wish it would. Because I dread what I'm about to do How he must have pained to communicate something he could call his own while maintaining a dignified and safe, always safe, because god forgive, well, you know, , putting the pen to the pad, drawing collumns in front of a Victorian fassad Succumbing to authority just to eat with a roof over your head and not freeze your ass off like a homeless freak. Profit margins in the final half of quarter one are lower than 1 standard deviation to what is considered by corporate to be optimal. As of now, the college has no incentive to ship in product from outside sources. All inventory must be stored in house to the buyer's demand. You better not be late.

___ On the parking deck

Tycho: “I had a dream I was on an internet forum. Someone posted the words: “life is an endless hell. With a blurry picture of a street at night-time. Not much different from what’s in front of us. I thought that made sense, until I scrolled down, to see a video looking out the windshield of a vintage rolls royce, coasting along a pacific highway. And the lines kept going. Next thing you know I’m falling down a pitch black waterslide, dreading my destination. If I never woke up I have a funny feeling i know where it was leading.

Preacher: In that instance did you feel the need to repent for your sins?

Tycho: No. that didn’t cross my mind. It was too late at that point.

Miranda: “I used to.

T: What made it stop?

Miranda: Seeing all the happy people around me. And knowing that they’ve been through the same shit. Break-ups, Death in the family, just generally feeling lost.

My heart was broken ”

T: Getting over the mind can be a dark place when it has nowhere else to rest. You can train it to think anything.”

Miranda: True

Tycho: Lately Ive been taking these long drives late at night into the boonies. Just to see where I up. I realized theres so many lives I’ll never know about.

If i wasnt born into money maybe I’d be humble enough to hate myself for even thinking such a thing.

How’d you get out of that?

Miranda:

These know it all professors are getting on my nerves. I fear Im crossing into an abyss I’ll never fully understand. Honestly I can’t fuckin stand these people. What name do I have to make for myself that i haven’t already experienced in the depths of my soul?

Tyco: You know how they try to act like they all official and shit, like I won’t see past it.

Miranda: [agreement] They do that.

Tyco: [stream of consciousness] So I just told her look I know its a rule, but I’m all about learning at my own pace and no disrespect i love her but Mrs. Soso can only go so far in telling me how to write. You can give tips and tricks but at the end of the day, I’ve been developed my writing style.. Like I thought we were done with all this high school shit. Well I didnt say that.

M: And what’d she say?

Tyco: She was like “As you get further into your major 90% of your assignments will be in essay format.. we require full participation “ At this im like she gonna hit me with the book like hell nah THEN outta nowhere She said “However, I also believe in 2nd chances.”. On the outside I was cool but inside I was like “*fist bump* yo i cannot fail outta college like someone watchin out for me idk who but-

Chad: fuck that shiiiiit *holds up white rum in front of street light”

Friend in background: 12! 12! 12!

Abrupt scene change. Camera shows Tyco zoned out. Then police car, as Tyco begins to hide behind the tree hes smoking on.

My black hoodie and phone-call to my dealer will still be with me tomorrow as I do the same thing.

(From a dream 10/23)

Tyco is driving around serving with Shantel when she lights her phone up from the passenger seat and puts the phone to her ear.

Shantel: You are not finna be talkin all that mess on my phone. Be honest with yourself. Don’t lie. You a hoe ass bitch.

?? Caller: Why are you even calling me? I dont give a fuck.

Shantel: Wait till I pull up then and slap the shit out you. Would that be better sweety?

?? Caller: I’m at Kawaii’s 30 deep. Bring your lil boyfriend and see what happens.

Shantel: Try me bitch.

[ The economy sedan turns right on red seemingly without breaking. ]

Tyco: 30 deep huh?

Shantel: With them ratchets.

Tyco: She sounds scared as hell aint nobody sticken up for her like that. You know they gonna talk shit right but soon as we throw them hands they gon be like, I dont know that bitch.

Shantel: nah but she stupid tho like not even worth all that extra

Tyco: We’re going. Wheres that nigga house i’ll waze that shit and we get there we just pop off. Aite?

[Not looking at the road, but to her, coasting down an average 2-lane with box neon trimmed tire shops and drive-thru windows governed stately as immovable beasts of mothership stores lurk behind low-sodium trenches of the new world order’s surveillence agenda for mass poplations en masse. ]

Just follow me. I’m walkin in and gonna start a commotion just bussin and you just break this bottle on her mother fuckin head and we out.

Shantel: haaah what okay

Tyco: You’re gonna fuck her shit up som serious.

Shantel: She talk shit about you.

Tyco: It’s in the stars babe for real.

Shantel: You gonna help me find that bitch?

Tyco: You my fucken queen I love you and I got you.

Neighborhood entrance.

Cars parked for miles.

House identified first glance.

Park.

Car doors..

Hip-Hop

Grass.

Walkway.

Steps.

Porch.

Door opens and yellow tops within the frame.

!! WHERE YOU AT// YALL FAKE AND CANT FINESSEE !!

AAAAAH YOU UGLY DARK SKINNED NIGROS

The caller is sitting on a couch ass to ass with other dudes. Looking stupid.

She never saw Shantel. Who came upon her like The Ring.

She has become a party magnet. It is a Slayer concert now. Nobody knows who’s who. Though Tyco is surely getting his ass beat. He catches of glimpse of Shantel’s fat ass ducking through the doorway and he could die right now and it wouldnt matter.

*GUN SHOT*

FUCK GOIN ON HERE MANE

“This not the place for you bro. - White boy comin up here in my place of business - Tryna pop shit off like you really not a bitch”

Kawaii looks up with his glock-9 extendo at his GD party mostly all gone just like that. The poor girl is still leaking.

“She need to go to the hospital.” Her friend says.

He points the glock at his head. Despair.

“Look around before I kill you.” An invitation.

Tycho: “I sold a 4 oz today after my accounting exam. I could be GD, 74, rock purp. whatever it be its nothing but Respect yo. Got connects with chad and Becky nahmean dog. Could put you on to some numbers they white and they fiends. Please OG.

“How much for a zip.”

“80, gas.”

“Was that yo bitch?”

“yea”

Kawaii: You lyin to me?

“No.”

“She eat your ass?”

“Yeah and bounce on my BIG ASS DICK” Tyco says with autism.

K walks away.

T: they don't even sell Molly bruh

K is you fucken high you dummies. Beat this nigga ass. *Tyco imagines the why the fuck you lyyin vine and remembers the exact moment he realized that wasnt an original song but actually a spin off of a classic throwback jam by the 90s R&B group “Next” in their hit single “Too Close”.. He was driving home from the cafe he used to write high school essays in while smoking a menthol american spirit with the windows rolled down on a spring evening playing KISS 104.1 Atlantas classic jams. Then he realized there was a full 6 minute video of the vine on youtube. After watching it he felt gayer. Thats all it did for him.

Tycho wakes up on living room floor.Terry (random G, on couch): *Hands him note× Kawaii said he's sorry. No hard feelings ya heard dog?

Tyco: I guess thugs act on impulse. *looks at note* and don't count on a gahdamn thing you bitchass motherfuckers. Tyco walks into class with a black eye. The Professor talks about interest loans. Tyco meets Moe after class in parking lot.

*Moe: Waddup

Tyco: It's lemon og I just got in.

Moe: Bet. Those last cookies you got. Bomb dude. It had them frar mother fuckers leanin like they can't handle that purp like that nahmean.*laughs*

Tyco: I got some backwoods you wanna hotbox.

Moe: Yo I'm down.

10/24/17 thursday

____ Last night I decided not to hate myself. The look I get from them doesnt bother me. Really, its a simple sign from nature that I’m used to by now. A wrong impression can sustain the fog of memory, of which I will be seen from the lens of another dimension, with not a care in the world, an angel in disguise. Thats the crux of my life up to this point. To no longer hate myself. But appear as if I still do. The nameless place in our past with no address., one of which even a frat boy can relate to. This invisible standard that’s thrown us into the pits of despair must be addressed. To seperate the real from the fake. Like the others are sleep walking through class fronting like they dont see me. The pyramid of perspective is an accordian overlayed on my third eye, televising scenes of sleep walkers who stay fronting like they dont see me. Walking behind the parking deck where green dumpsters were with my phone to my ear is a feeling that remains within me until I do the same thing over again in a few days. Buying in bulk never appealed to me. And if a 20 a g was the price thered be nothing my lonely ass could do. Fuck this worthless paper, I tell myself.

I tell myself. Anyone who catches my glimpse pauses for a split second, calibrating my own opinion of the why in life. A definition of nuance that was never meant to be expressed but felt. To sense what I’ve been wanting, free and alone, after all those wasted days.

I’m signalling. Though I havent been approached yet.

Figuring that would resolve the look I give other people. I mean, christ, I turned 18 last March. And spent the Summer in a last ditch effort to secure an identity before I made my plays in college. For too long I’ve avoided the call of the light and in return have gotten blank stares.

(SOMEHOW gets wrapped up into a petty conversation with sorirty girl (on top of parking deck.)

Clarissa: I was the only one alone in the entire party.

Tycho: Why didnt you leave?

T: Dont worry I dont wanna know your major.

C; Good cus it keeps changing.

T: You think you know everything dont you? This world aint nothin babe.

C: Why do you say that?

T: What do you wanna know? That I get money? Thats nothin.

Clarissa drifts off.

Hannah: So Stacy’s telling me the banners weren’t in that right place and we’re like an hour away from starting and we still haven’t even got the chairs in order and barely anyone who was suppose to be here has shown up yet.

Tycho: Where were they?

“Well for one, Candace, I dont know whats her problem lately, but shes been gone because her best-friends now telling her she’s not rushing anymore but thats honestly a relief because that girl wheres winged eyeliner and thinks shes better than us.”

Tycho: Oh, I think I’ve seen that girl at the library or something.

I intuit that in order to justify her reasoning for not liking the winged eyeliner girl, that she channeled my very own resonant storm cloud of which I emit silently in the face of vanity..

H: Well you’ll probably see her there a lot more cus shes definitely not with us.

“Okay so thats one.” I say as if taking notes.

“Then Rachel’s out at some charity event that I never even heard of probably with a guy she’s not telling us about which is so frustrating that of all days you pick friday night at the peak of rush to go be a hoe behind our backs.”

“Did she ever show up to the party?”

“Yeah. And she was fucking drunk.” She said as if surprised but not really because this is Rachel we’re talking about, after all.

“Like wasted orrr “

“Damn I didnt know yall got down like that.”

“Umm when youre stumbling through the door and your first words to all the new girls is hallelujah bitches!

She wasn’t with a guy.

“So tell me more about the party. Like was there”

who nobody knows anyway

is that Cheyenne is just out of it because her friends now telling her she doesnt want to rush anymore and for one its like look,

Wait, who’s hannah?

Hannah’s the leader of her sorority.

Ooooh, Okay, I see why now

-Yeah, I mean if word got around that would literally mean she was going around their backs to cover up that she was lying.

> Right. Yeah I hear what you sayin. She’s trying to make it seem as if it never concerned yall in the first place but if thats the case then she dont need to be acting like she got the right to be trusted.

This goes beyond reputation. Manipulating emotions just cus she has none of her own. Conniving biitch. just to get her way goes beyond reputation.

Aint nobody wanna be around that energy.

> So what you tell her?

I get schizophrenic when it comes accepting new ways of being. The person I made him out to be was the perfect cure for my suffering. All those forgetful nights of boredom I knew what I needed all along, but was to scared to do it myself.

------ Frat house halloween party kidnap scene ----

GD shaman prays to shango for power to go out by mantra. Squad in car repeats the same mantra. The power goes out at 1:00 (or peak of the party).

Tycho throws blue flare through the side of the window

at the Tycho must find Chad and lure him downstairs near the door so the squad can get the keys to the room full cocaine and adderal. After looking everwhere he’s no where to be found. He walks in on a couple having with the girl in missionary with devil ears. “Yo chad that you?” Its

(fuckem x3) Music stops from power so he sneaks in wireless speaker in his robot costume and puts it at one end of the room. Squad member 1 will carry bigger wireless speaker and set it down when he storms in. Tycho also brings a timed strobe light to distract people and keep the illusion of the party still going.

Tycho runs down stairs and towards door with chad chasing him. Squad slaps tape and mask on him and carries like a battering ram although theyve already kicked the door.

*Power turns back on*

“Fuck em, fuck em, nigga get out my section

Don’t want to see him, I don’t want to touch him

*waves zippo lighter in front of face so chad can see him through mask*

“Ima count 3 seconds and your dead on 5 if i dont get this combination” says calmly. thus saiyth the lord thy god”

“Three... No mercy”

“Two.. Shall be given unto those”

*gives code*

“One.”

Love takes many shapes and forms.Tycho never opened up to people, hating himself for being incapable of feeling what others felt. He wanted more so he went spiritual. Which his close friends perceived as going off the deep end."Ayy whatsup bro you tryna smoke?""I have a calc exam tomorrow but I'm down after."Aight good luck on your studying tonight and then kill it tomorrow I know you got this calc is your specialty can't say the same for me but that's why you always tutored me haha."Let me know if you need more help. Figuring their was no bounds and he could be whatever, even silent, and experience irony rather than fate. How bland, he thought, to have a life plan and nothing to look forward to. Running drugs would be a necessary chain reaction. The highest elixer exceeding the bliss provided by the very weight he'd be pushing, itd be getting off on defying his own life, leaving spirit his only option. And so like a blackbird his soul seeks experience only in the clearest degree of visibility. Swerving transgressions of lonliness to levy the burdens of contrived responsibilities at societies every turn until his flight patterns veer from the trodden path to and fro the calling of reality in which he desires to preside over as a God of many statures. Untainted by works, head first into the entity of the adversary, of which he is able to predict the situational consequence in only a glimpsing moment before havoc ensues and the final hour is upon him, his loose wings coated with astral charcoal of depravity. Be caught slipping once and he loses the jump until the enevitable program takes its course - an unstoppable relationship between fate and reckoning that must be fulfilled as day turns to night. Once that happens he reverts back to being like the rest of them. Yet to the world, now desolated beyond repair, hed still be alive, exuding a calm presence that something is not quite right with him existing without remorse. The truth is simple enough, a hint just ever so slight as to never be able to cross the threshold of utterance, thus becoming rendered a convinction of self delusion on the part of the unknowing accuser, who by this time hates himself for even thinking badly of such a good guy to make peace with. The collage curtails past the illusion of what is already known and at last the watchers take notice and thus regeneration is able to take place along all the land, allowing for new energy to take the throne of anticipation. One that has harnessed the potential to become anything the wonder puts his mind too. So what if I'm imaginative? Yolandra: I mean everyone's different in their own way. Like yeah the soroitys have a dress code and all that Starbucks and capris. But I don't know. You just have to get know a person for who they are and not how the outside world perceives them to be. T: So what'd you first think of me? Yolandra: Honestly not much anything. You were one of those people who could be anything. But then I overheard you say taurus's are gold diggers and I hated you cus I'm a taurus. T: Oh sorry I really didn't mean it like that but c'mon now I can tell you have a taste for finer things you bougie little.. Boob. *laugh\ haha "you know what I mean" It doesn't bother you? What? That so much could go wrong so quickly? Look, deep down he's telling you his heart lies with getting over and you let him because that's /just what you like about him, how deep he gets. cus he's a sad and selfish individual who was never about loving anything other than vanity. The best thing to do would be to trust his actions, intentions aren't what's important right now. Really, forget about the soul connection. Loves comes through all types of people as long as you're open to receiving them. Those energies. Don't lose yourself in the illusion. Without ever taking credit for what truly matters which should be you. Then your fashion made sense to me. T: I'm so caught up in myself. I mean, it's impossible to know anything else. I'll never get to stand in your shoes. Its just truth. Yet I'm the bad guy. You're not like the other people I've met. T: Yeah I'm kind of loner if you couldn't tell already. I guess that's a good thing.T: Hey it's okay. I get that a lot... Wait what do you mean you guess? Ive found that who evers saying does a 180 in their normalcy. Knowing your even here right now is a good thing. Knowing that you're with me even when im not. Don't you think? Starting out with confidence and ending strong to be lucky if I'm not hurt. Tell me what you want out of this. Sometimes I feel so lame, then I realize how fun itd be to not care. Through the window screen i see parchments and grass blades, this is an image I've sought to ignore for its blandness thinking I was over recognizing such mundane structures. The sunlight made me drunk with non verbal contemplation. I crave this heat when I'm in low spirits. And a breeze when I'm high. My thoughts are channeled from a lonely place (My thoughts come from a lonely place) I've had no choice but to become accustomed to for my own sanity. To work faster and breach that veil of reckonning. So unreachable and enticing at the same time.T When I'm alone, welcome something more than the past if you ever cared to help me. This isn't the only world out there. And even if it was the material would eventually reach infinity. Then a black hole would open or something. Don't quote me on that, science is the hottest thing going right now. It cant hurt to butt in unofficially. As long as no one calls you on it. The universe molds to your confidence. That's another story. At the end of the day, I have too much pride to be a scientist. The God they're serving calls for a lot of self sacrifice. A self that ignores emergency when called to speak. A self i'm not prepared to lose. "Why are you here again, nothing will change, you're gonna be quiet like last time" any handle on reality I had during the sun rise flees like an ex girlfriend into the night. I'm not prepared to lose. Anxiety is that humid feeling you get when roughnecking the time away. Jaded peripherals, internet browsing, and fading friends initiate a color spectrum so cruelly vivid in its inability to be shared with the CVS cashier who looked at you wrong because you bought 3 4oz bottles of robitussin. A man who couldnt care to see the streets, stop signs, and traffic lights. Man is a slang term we use when caught in the moment. Of which matrix programming loves to grasp onto. --- 10/25/17 wednesday So here I am enjoying a piece of lackluster nothing for the sake of something I've agreed to experience in a past life I can't even remember but somehow must make amends to as if its an actual concrete thing I can touch and make sense out of without caring to ponder how life puts us in these type situations like getting your hair done a new way and meeting a friend of a friend superficially without ever following up like aight word up bro I feel you by the way hows life and what's the special fact I should become one with in this moment while not thinking too much in to things or else id be alone as if we're not alive under the stars for any other reason than to be happy but still to me that becomes too much like a flash in time rather than something meaningful because then sex would have to be our purpose for being here but you and I both know it's more complicated than that so we look into it via memories and realize the journey was brighter than the reward as in I don't remember the actual sex part but rather the day as a whole with stained glass sprinkled in on a film reel to push the past into something real and unexplainably alluring to the self of which we projected this light onto in order to perhaps know in advance maybe how to repeat this metaphysical phenomenon for a second time because we're not quite there yet although at this rate if seems that to finally reach a state of thereness would mean we wouldn't be able to be here right now having this conversation like a building block struck from below or a house of cards we have to keep faith that every moment plays its part because we had an emotion for it and therefore couldn't be rendered to nothing in a wreckless attempt force it all together rather let each tile compliment it's neighbor and bypass the need for destruction by allowing enough caring energy to flow through that filter mechanism within you that deems lifes moments as worth remembering or forgetting and pretend you never heard about forgetting and avoid it like the plague because everything that ever was is depending on you to go forth into righteous so that gods original intention for letting go of unwanted baggage be synthesized within your vessel of upgrades intelligence so that the journey can still be appreciated only this time without th deceptive veil of the end. to question the little things that somehow don't mean much but at the same time appear to us daily as conduits for good fortune and thats what we must uphold ___ 11/2/17 thursday

I you and me playcated on a surface of stones that match our longing to search in the wrong places. Convenient are we done such a conceivable time that is time which is also time because what more can be said other than us winding down a fire escape to an inexplicable hatch sitting like paper mache on our transformative spiritual natures. Gone already but not forgotten just make sure to take the negative side of every situation involving 1 or more parties so as to make sure the rythym is in order because you can't go wrong with challenging the status quo of an area you're not suppose to be in even if that seems too easy and superficial it's the right choice because even the idea of rebellion as a bad thing must be able to project into a physical thing prompt for examination so secrets may be revealed. Wouldn't you know i stopped believing in faith due to its redundancy of chasing metaphysical strings too far out for us to put into words and isn't that the source of all our angst. Depraved of propositional phrases and elemental tables it's all so clear to me now. Casandra had a bag and Mikey had his sneakers in the forefront like a low hanging fruit but of course they had personalities that weren't so easy to see unless the hard work of interfacing came into the equation. Lets judge people based on judging for the sake of basing ourselves onto something not within our realm of reality. Perception is a hard question i think maybe inanimate objects could tell us a thing or two. Low pressure sodium lamps.Documentorial lecture hall amps failing to reach the end of the pyramid turned 90 degrees away from its focal point. May disease not reach our unexplainable selves if ever they may inhabit our temporary vessels like a friend who has no friends but you and wants desperately to get along with others but is attached to your ways. Are we in hell? What can our astral travels tell us about signaling locations with Etheric marks of time dialation. Things are what they are by defintion or they wouldn t be things however stepping the observer up a notch sets in motion cancer to grow from the singular notion that we ourselves separate on a cost of lightening our load. I am partly responsible for this mess we have made. Pulling my hair out in thin strands so as to not make a difference. Some people just don't understand what it means to be so far gone yet in a place of enchantment that lets us know we're not alone as Michael Jackson plays on the ham radio and Wikipedia says the song was written by r kelly. I'm a solitary young man, joined at the seams complacency and red-ridden vanishing points to a line of sight I'd rather not identify with if I had a choice. I'm seriously considering becoming rich and famous despite others already forcing me to. I guess eventually my spirit will give in as my soul looks from a distance and says what a fool I am then goes about his day. You can't be like the rest of them no matter how hard you try. Thinking on the sensualities you avoided after this rap shit led you no where. The palace at the height of creation where Jesus stopped and stared to collect his thoughts before he kept going when his alarm rang as his slave bending consistency tracked the new melinnia into a moldy piece of sandstone cheese the better of which tasted nutty with fruity notes and 80% abv shards of liquid glass on the throat thatd make even an immortal weep a shy tear or two. The pigs down in Mississippi feel things we can't understand in their slaughterhouse decrepit and forwarned in a musk ridden air flow that's non existent to hypocritical angels who were supposed to stop atrocity but opted to sit on their ads and play virtua tennis all day. Oink says the pig. Hee haw says the donkey. Give me life says the God and there on the 30th night fags came to tell the story on their faces. The bag lady told them to shut up and stop whining but they wouldn't listen though they lost their ability to speak. Goodness gracious me oh my great balls of fire. Great balls of ball you are the Lord of my lonely century in this dimension I took awareness to when I allowed you into my heart space.And then I left asking my self: Who is this I?

755559888a

Let’s stand for a while and think about the dastardly ways we have gone under the waters and flew away from temptation. Have us saying isnt it so pretty to be in something and have that to fall back on due to the struggles of forgetting the place we come from which didnt always have it out for us this bad in refusing us of inconjunctions we can at least point to and blame our problems on saying “See! There, I told you so. That’s why we cant find our beginning!” And we’ll keep toilling the fields as halflings saving up for a chance to leave the very universe we serve. “So thats more like it. Finally something I can get my flows on to” Shelly the alien said. “The Stars dont have to like you just because you see them. They have their place and so do we” Gerald said. “Oh but they do.” “How do you know?” “Well for one they always shine bright at the most oppurtune times, like when I’m feeling down about the part of myself that conveinently seems to escape me just when I need it most. If that be so then put me on to something else and that’ll do just fine.” “Perhaps you're not as big as you thought ” Gerald held up his hand to salvage what was left of the dissolving psychic barrier between them. An invisible giant with an ocd issue. For now he could only listen. “No im not here to choose and thats exactly why Im not afraid to go where you can’t. Having the courage to admit your wrongs requires as much energy as universal rotation itself - a force which exists beyond our pleaidien awareness. ” “ But Shel- Okay whatever” Gerald paused and rolled the horizon through his scaly fingertips. “Keep calling on the unknown and you might get lost because it’s been there forever and sometimes Look, Shelly, no offense, you know I love you, but your awareness has no filter on what representation it can cling onto like danger isnt a reality to you. Me and Dazel always had to look out for you and thats just in this world what makes you think you can take on things you cant even see? “But do you believe in me? Anyone can say they love me. I’ve been hearing that my whole life. So much that it holds the same meaning as “um” does in conversation. Is that really the final conclusion we have at the end of the day? That you love me? Besides, I dont think you really meant that.”

“Here goes Miss Type-1 personality again. Always needing to label circles into squares, stars into gods, this as that, out of an inability to cope with insecurity. Leaving the rest of us as unwilling participants.”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW WHAT’S WRONG IN NATURE?” Shelly bawled.

The beach of Temofose was out of walking distance from the orange cottage they grew up in with there Mom. When they were young it was somewhere theyd go when they had nothing else to do. Euweu Sister Beach was the brighter of the two, but now too populated for their liking. Temofose is less frequented by other families and polluted by cargo ships and a lack of open views but as they stood there a semblence of twilight through the holographic cages offered closure to the purpose of them arguing in the elements about a timeline Shelly was going to step into And no matter what argument he could put forth, Gerald thought of it fruitless unless he spoke from his heart, a heart of which Shelly was currently taking the place of, so that he could not use it against her. “Shelly, I just hope you can understand how I dont want to let you go.” “I’m sorry you feel that way. But it’s my choice. Have a good njght Gerald. I love you” She said as she went into darkness.

Summer Break 2018

As a street light exploring strip malls, I am a linoleum tile on top of a trapezoid emitting frames of rave scenes. Heres where I find myself walking through last nights dream of the gang member selling duck pussy then getting assaulted by a pizza guy and a cop. Alone after those nights. Seems love was never meant to be expressed but felt. I look inside to see if I’m about to die, seeing diamonds mixed with sky. Materializing in the backdrop of my memories. Now I know why.

Now I know.

Then a wren on the fence manifests when it needs to. The perspective pyramid is that I pleaded for a higher calling. There’s nobody bohemian as me. One day I’ll take this civic off the road and escape into my sacred grove. If only I wasnt such a bitch.

I carry my single briefcase through the airport parking lot. I’m hot and out of breath. Everyone watching me. I can read their thoughts but not my own. They say look at the guy who isnt me but is still conscious enough to move his vessel.

The a/c runs down to the end of the terminal, but my spirit is squared by the stores selling vain material. The pyramid of perspective is an accordian overlayed on my mind’s eye televises scenes too chaotic to put into words. Walking through customs is an event to be remembered, I tell myself. Anyone who catches my glimpse pauses for a split second, calibrating my own opinion of the why in life. A definition of nuance that was never meant to be expressed but felt. To sense what I’ve been wanting, free and alone, after all those wasted days. I board the flight to say finally I am my own religion. If I was flying over africa I’d see bon fires, but over Georgia I only see street lights. Thinking how absurd that they will speak of me as crazy. Others will listen. A vibration through these amber aisles to look no further than my destiny. Because everyone has their destination is the way it goes. I refuse. I’m tired of being a number. Atlanta had its place. Now I’m homeless in Tokyo. This is the not-so perfect end to the chapter planned out for me by the higher power. Not-so bad neither.

Save me. I’m on the other side now.

#chapter 1 #short-story #novella #atl streetz #cancer moon #tryna

1 note · View note