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gamebunny-advance · 2 years

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"Plants" Process (Initial Sketch | Layers)

Sure, might as well talk about this one, because I actually have a bit to say about it.

So the title I uploaded this with, "Say you will about NSR..." was originally a (*mis)quote he says in the game when you fully unlock the Natura district. The line isn't especially significant, but I've always thought of it as surprisingly "quaint." It's very small, but it serves to humanize him just a little bit when up to and after this point he's dipped into cartoon-style villainy. These brief moments of honesty within his duplicitous nature is a part of why I find him to be an endearing character.

*The actual quote is, "Say what you want about NSR..." but I mistyped it when posting it. The meaning of the line is basically the same, though.

Due to this line, I've had the idea of drawing him surrounded by plants for a while. My first iterations of this idea usually involved him on an apartment balcony adorned with plants and overlooking the city. Sadly, my visions for the scene exceeded my artistic ability, so it's an idea that's been on the back burner for a while.

[A sketch I did last year based on the idea.]

It wasn't until I just randomly thought to come back to this idea that I sketched this piece.

But tbh, I don't think my vision was very clear. There's no sense that he exists in a real place (why in the world would a hanging planter be hung so low, XP). All I knew was that I wanted to draw him surrounded by plants, and that originally I wanted the color palette to be very limited.

Very recently, the SiIvagunner channel had uploaded a parody video of the Yona Yona Dance MV, which led me to listening/watching the original video (which I somehow managed to never see up to that point).

youtube

I found the limited color pallet of the video to be very striking, and I wanted to make something inspired by it combined with the experiment I did with my recent Kliff x Tati piece, which also only used about 4 colors.

However, I am abysmal at color picking, so I grabbed a color palette from @/color-palletes (link) to help the process along. In the end, I couldn't keep myself from trying to use all possible colors. Strictly speaking, there's a shade of every color in the rainbow in the final piece, which is about as far from a "limited palette" as it could be. Nonetheless, I think the darker tones of the colors do help to tie everything together, so it feels more limited than it actually is.

To return to discussing the sketch itself, there were a few ideas that changed and evolved throughout the process.

Besides moving some of the plants around, an idea I had that didn't get fully realized was that the three smaller plants in front of him were supposed to represent the game's rockstars: Mayday, Zuke and Tatiana. I had difficulty making that happen with the limited palette: since May, Kliff, and Tati share a lot of colors (notably red), and one of Zuke's main colors is green, the same color for the plants, it was difficult to main the references while still having them all not blend into each other. Perhaps with more time to think through the idea I could have reached a compromise, but as things are, that reference was more or less lost.

To get it out of the way: there isn't any real symbolism behind the plants chosen. They were picked strictly on their aesthetic value/ease of drawing them. If you wanna stretch, the Zuke vase is holding red flowers (poppies), so it's kinda referencing that time his hair was set on fire, but that's totally incidental~ However, I will say that originally that vase was supposed to hold orchids since it's apparently a flower common in Malaysia, but I had difficulty drawing them and settled on poppies. Hibiscus plants were also considered for similar reasons, but as someone who's actually grown up around hibiscus flowers, I knew I didn't really have another place to put them since those plants actually get really friggin' big.

Something else that was lost was the poster behind the snake plant. Originally I had thought to put a poster of Kul Fyra on the wall, but I honestly got pretty lazy about adding the details. That and Kul Fyra's colors would have blended into Kliff hair since she's a combination of reds and yellows. But that space felt so empty without *something* there, so I messed around with random shapes and eventually just landed on putting up some records. It's a generic detail, but I do feel like they add a "pop art" quality to the piece.

To conclude, this was very fun to work on and the turnaround on it was fairly fast. Usually for pieces like this, the process takes me a few days, but I sketched and finished this all in the same day. Had I given myself more time to sleep on this, I might have worked a little harder to incorporate some of my other ideas and clean it up a little more. That said, this is still one of my favorite pieces as of late, and I hope that I'm able to make more things like it.

#gbunny draws #nsr #kliff #gif #should i main tag this again?#i don't think so #y'all are the only ones that really benefit from hearing me ramble #if you can even call it a benefit #something i didn't mention is that i actually struggled with the face a bit #i didn't like the initial expression that much #it was a little soft for my tastes #the triangular eyes are just something i borrowed from the 'anniversary' piece i did a while back #i dunno why i did that in either case since his eyes are typically downturned #but they helped him to look sharper #so i'm okay with it

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mareastrorum · 1 year

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WIP Wednesday: TF&TS (Molly's Book)

Here is a scene from chapter 3 of a longfic I am working on.

Fanfic Summary: Mollymauk Tealeaf survived the encounter with the Iron Shepherds, but a short time later, a spirit had begun hunting him, claiming that he stole his body. This Campaign 2 AU begins with Episode 26 and continues on from there.

This fanfic will be posted on AO3 starting in June or July.

Molly hung half off the bed to reach his coat because hells if he was getting up when it was that close. He snagged the end and then rummaged the pockets while dangling. He managed to find the book and pull it out of a pocket just before he lost his balance and crashed forward onto the floor.

No one saw that.

Caduceus huffed quietly and made a point of pulling his covers over his ears once Molly turned to look. Caduceus was already well aware he should not sleep facing Molly’s bed for a variety of reasons, but, well, he did have large ears.

So, fine, someone heard, but no one saw that.

Molly gracefully got up, climbed back under the covers, and got comfy before he pulled the book up to inspect. It was rather small compared to all the tomes Caleb usually lugged around—smaller than the size of Molly’s hand if it laid flat. The cloth binding was fairly worn. The colorful flower prints had faded along the corners. The title on the cover was in a fanciful lettering that was far too complex to read, though it had clean and well-practiced line work.

It reminded Molly of Desmond’s elegant handwriting. Desmond had said that the point of calligraphy was to make letters almost illegible and so damn pretty that everyone would forgive you for it. Molly had never been able to read them anyway, but he never held that against Desmond because he could barely read regardless. Desmond had made some especially fancy-looking flyers for some of the bigger towns the carnival had traveled to, so Molly had pulled those out for snootier looking commoners.

I hope he’s found a way to cheer up.

Desmond must have had a reason for going his own way after the carnival disbanded. Going out on his own might have been better for him anyway, since those years working as a musician had not cured his melancholy. Well, that was Desmond’s burden to carry, not Molly’s. He’d figure it out eventually, and Molly wasn’t going to sour his own mood over something out of his control.

Molly gave a brief shake of his head (jewelry not jingling since he had taken it out for the night), then opened to the first page with text, which had the title and a handwritten note:

The Forest Witch and Other Z-E-M-N-I-A-N Folk Tales:

tran-slat-ed from Die Wald… W-A-L-D-H-E-X-E(?) (the rest made no damn sense).

To Mollymauk

From Caleb

Molly grinned as his tail shifted back and forth under the sheets. He wasn’t sure if that was actually the right spelling for his name (he had seen a few in the carnival, but Gustav used this one, so it was his preference), but that was sweet nonetheless.

Below was a sketch of a witch approaching three children. It must have been from one of the stories. Hells if Molly was actually going to read though, that was for nerds. Instead, he flipped through the book, content to browse the paintings.

Caleb had been right: they resembled the art style on the oracle cards. The background scenes had similar amounts of detail, and they only used a handful of colors in each image. Simple at first glance, with lots of easily missed finesse and skill in the final touches. His cards were more colorful, though that was due in part because Molly was still improving at mixing paint. Color matching was far more difficult than it looked, so he found it easier to be creative with the colors he happened to mix than to waste all the paint trying to get it exactly right.

Molly stopped on one intriguing illustration. It featured a snake slithering out of a hole at the bottom of a wall and looking at a tiny gold crown sitting on a piece of cloth. A young girl watched from the top of the wall. She had something small in her hand, but Molly did not recognize what it was; it looked almost like a top with a handle the length of her arm, and a bunch of thread wound around it.

Well, the story on the opposite page likely explained. Molly narrowed his eyes at the book for a moment, tail twitching slightly, as though it was the book’s fault that the image didn’t make sense on its own.

At least it was short.

Molly sighed deeply and started reading, mouthing the words to himself:

An orphan…

Orp-han? Or-pahn? Or-p-han? Context!

An orphan child…

Oh, orfan.

An orp… orfan child was sitting on the town walls spinning, when she… (Spinning what? What did the kid spin? Herself? Is that a top? Sure, a top.)

An orfan child was sitting on the town walls spinning (a top), when she saw a snake coming out of a hole low down in the wall.

Swiftly, she spread out beside this one of the blue silk handke… han-d-ker… hand-kerch… ker-chi-efs… (Hankercheef? Why did they write it like that? That couldn’t be right.)

Swiftly, she spread out beside this one of the blue silk hand… hankercheefs which snakes have such a strong liking for (What? Really?), and which are the only things they will creep on. (Was creeping different from slithering? How else did it get around?)

Molly looked up a moment, trying to recall how snakes move, weaving his hand back and forth through the air. They just moved in smooth curves, right? Was there another way? Maybe like a caterpillar.

Whatever.

As soon as the snake saw it, it went back, then returned, bringing with it a small golden crown… (Why did she have a crown? Well, maybe she liked to dress up. Or maybe she’s royalty. Sure, she’s a queen.)

As soon as the snake (queen) saw it, she went back, then returned, bringing with her a small golden crown, laid it on the handk… hankercheef, and then went away again.

The girl took up the crown: it glit-tered and was of deli… de-li-ca-te… delakit golden fi-lig-ree work.

Molly stopped again. What’s fi-lig-ree? That’s familiar. Oh, filAgree. Artsy curves like on the back of the cards. Nice.

It was not long before the snake (queen) came back for the second time, but when she no longer saw the crown, she crept up to the wall, and in her grief smote her little head against it (Oh, shite) as long as she had strength to do so, until at last she lay there dead. (It’s just a crown!)

If the girl had but left the crown where it was, the snake (queen) would certa… cer-tain-ly… (sir-tan-lee?) have brought still more of her trea-sures out of the hole.

Molly stared at the page, confused, then around the room as though that might provide answers. Wasn’t this supposed to be a story for kids? With a snake committing suicide? Over a crown? Fairy tales had a lot of murder, but suicide was new. And the lesson was don’t steal from a mark that has some nice gear until you were sure you had gotten an idea of what else you could loot. That was not wrong, but still a strange lesson for children.

Sure, Molly had taught Nott to steal from grumpy people, but the fact she was so young was what made it amusing. He hadn’t expected old folktales aimed at children to teach something similar as a matter of course. Zemnian stories were weird. Caleb had said he read all of these, too—no wonder he was a bit odd.

Molly looked back at the book. After a moment’s pause, he opened to another random page.

Maybe one more.

#wip wednesday #TF&TS #mollymauk tealeaf #canonically functionally illiterate #critical role fanfiction

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asachuu · 2 years

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I truly hate that the sole reason I somehow managed to figure out some backgrounds in the meantime is literally just due to them being drawn almost the same as the characters in terms of lineart, shading, etc. and I don’t have to overcomplicate anything or switch techniques as I always tried to do. And that’s it. That’s genuinely it, at least to me, and I’ve somehow been missing it for the three years I’ve attempted to do digital art. It…still feels a bit like rocket science, though.

Aside from that, it seems I’ve chosen which character is my designated one for practicing things here and there, so I hope it doesn’t interfere with my usual posts. In a way, using an OC is a bit more laid back than an already established fictional character whom I wouldn’t want to accidentally end up somehow tarnishing if I have absolutely no clue what I’m doing. I would rather avoid it as it’s not the best of feelings.

Nonetheless, all below here is just information for the curious at this point, so I’ll share a bit of a fun fact from before I even started drawing this one.

I initially wrote this in a separate text post which I am now shoving down here instead, but just as I was going to try and draw this, I thought to myself it would be quite nice if I had an actual playlist befitting this character in my mind instead of the mess I usually listen to which has absolutely no set theme and each song is usually completely unrelated to the one before it in both topic and genre. For that reason, this probably would have been posted yesterday, had I not spent the day searching around for songs that would fit my requirements and not bothered to even make a sketch.

Regardless, I managed to put something together that I’ll probably return to in some time and rearrange entirely until I’m at least mostly satisfied with it, but only about halfway through I realized I somehow slightly forgot that I was meant to keep it on the theme of my own character and ended up with something vaguely resembling a…bit of a different topic, as is the best way I can describe it. Whether that topic has something to do with the actual creation of said character or not, potentially explaining my mistake, is a whole different story, but I ended up finding it hilarious enough to actually make it unlisted and link it, upon some…certainly-not-overly-anxious consideration.

I’m quite sure it’s almost impossible to tell what else was on my mind aside from the initial theme it unless one knows me much too well, but if someone’s up for the task of deciphering it or simply wonders what kind of things I occasionally listen to…here you go. As of now, the songs are in no particular order and still quite a mess, but I hope it carries some…general thought, even though I could very well be the only one who can make some sense of it.

In any case, I’ll now try to recover my wrist from spending almost nine hours drawing copious amounts of alcohol for the background.

#art #my art #rkgk #nonfandom #oc #original character #asachuu #a fair amount of text and yet I said nothing about this man once more #it’s my specialty

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micamaconceptart · 10 months

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Creating Concepts:

Practice 6: Concept and Storyboards

When I was about to begin my storyboarding, my tutor gave me advice to try out Miro, a free presentation app where people can share their ideas and brainstorming to multiple parties; storyboarding is one of the aspects that can be drawn and discussed among others in a team or industry. I ended up giving Miro a try and found out how versatile of an app it is; storyboards could range from simple, plain sketches to detailed thumbnails of art.

With this, I went ahead and tried to visualise how my written story could be shown. While keeping storyboard panels simple is an effective and usual tendency, I did want to utilise as many tools as I could that was provided to me by Miro. In addition, the main focus in my narrative concerned the environment and the journey of my character within said environment, so I did end up going overboard with the details of what I envisioned the ruins concept to appear like.

As result, the amount of panels I managed to complete only covered a fraction of the story I wrote within the previous post. While the speed of my drawing could be improved, I did not necessarily think it was a bad idea to at least develop the setting through storyboarding, as it offered a lot of clarity in what could be portrayed, whether through storyboarding or a full-fledged piece of art.

Nonetheless, I failed to treat this practice as a proper storyboarding experience and instead managed to turn it into a thumbnailing of compositions, of which does somewhat correspond to storyboards, though the skills required in both differ from each other - one of such differences involves time efficiency. Overall, this was more of a failed practice compared to my other concepts, but it is apparent that I am gradually improving on my skills of greyscaling.

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inkbunny-artblog · 3 years

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Aight, so i had a crazy idea for a crossover

FNF Soft mod, but Little nightmares AU

I'll call it

Little Soft Nightmares

here's my idea-

BF lived with his parents, who were singers. They'd sing together, even recording a few albums. But they became monsters, much like every adult in that world.

They were similar to the viewers, in a way.They were calm as long as there was music playing, sometimes singing along with BF with their twisted voices, but, like the viewers, without their distraction, they’d be violent

BF was at least safe from the rest of the world, his parents would give him food and check on him, making sure he wouldn’t run away.

Pico, a kid used to the streets and monsters, was surprised to hear music coming from a random building in the pale city, which was usually eerily quiet. It sounded like an old record, the words barely recognizable, but it had a nice melody nonetheless. Getting closer, he could make out someone softly humming along with the record.

He climbed the closest window, looking inside and finding a kid, no older than himself, being the one humming. The humming seemed almost louder than the music coming from the gramophone in the corner.

He had light blonde hair, some sort of faded-red gatsby cap covering most of his face, and wore a gray shirt and dark blue pants. He was sitting on the ground, scribbling on a random sheet of paper. The floor was littered with papers, mostly filled with sketches. They ranged from stick figures, to realistic sketches of objects, to some ilegible and incomprehensible scribbles. The boy looked blissfully unaware of the horrors outside of his room.

Pico was almost questioning if the boy knew about the monster righ outside his door, who were grumbling along with the song.

But maybe he did know about them? Maybe that was why he was singing to them? To make them calm?

He debated whether or not to knock on the glass, but that decision was made for him when the boy turned to look at the window. He immediately stopped humming, thankfully not noticeable over the song that was still playing. They stared at each other for a while until Pico decided to try to open the window.

It was hard, for someone his size, but he managed to lift enough to slip under it. As Pico landed on the floor, the other boy quickly ran behind the gramophone to hide. BF didn’t know what the boy wanted, he didn’t know what he’d do to him, why was he here or- anything.

Pico got closer to the boy, making the latter flinch back, hitting the device and crumbling the sound a bit, disturbing the calm atmosphere that it had before. Pico flinched as a roar approached the

room. thinking fast, or not thinking much, he grabbed the boy’s hand and led them under a drawer, crouching down and holding their breaths as the monster opened the door.

BF was terrified when the door opened only to reveal a giant beast. What was that monster? Weren’t his parents just singing outside his room with him? Did that monster hurt them? But the more he looked, the more confused he became.. The monster had a shirt similar to his father’s favorite shirt, and his hair was also very similar in color and general shape. But that couldn't be. His father wasn’t a monster, he didn’t have sharp teeth, horns nor claws, even if he could smell the undeniable scent of smoke from his father's cigarettes coming out of the monster’s mouth. There was a connection there..

Pico, on the other hand, was ready to grab the boy’s hand once again and bolt out of there as soon as the monster was far enough. He wouldn’t like to know what the monster would do to the kid if they didn't hide. He looked at the boy in question. He seemed scared, though admittedly less than Pico expected. He half expected the kid to start crying and wanting to run, but he looked more like he didn’t understand what was in front of him.

The monster stopped in front of the device, fixing it and making the song roll again as if nothing happened and started singing. Though Pico would never call that singing, BF instantly recognized it as his father’s voice, even if distorted beyond recognition, he was so used to hearing it from across the room that it seemed normal to him. Did he even remember what his voice sounded like..? What about his mom..?

BF couldn’t think much further before the red-head took his hand and ran, exiting his room and going behind another drawer. On top of said drawer there was a family picture. A father, a mother and their son, smiling at the camera. That memory seemed so far from now.

While the monster was still distracted with the music, Pico decided to at least introduce himself to the boy, just so that he wouldn't be just a stranger taking him away from his home. He silently cleared his throat and turned to the boy.

“Hum, hi. Name’s Pico” he whispered and extended his hand for him to shake. The boy looked at his skeptical before lightly shaking his offered hand and, with a voice as soft as his humming, mumbled “I’m Benjamin. Benjamin Fairest.”

(I'll make the rest later maybe, i have inspiration!)

#inkflutter #inkflutterdraws #my random ideas yay #fnf soft mod #fnf soft #fnf soft bf #fnf soft pico #soft bf #soft pico #benjamin fairest #pico newgrounds #soft mod #little nightmares #little nightmares au #imma make my own au tag-#Little Soft Nightmares AU

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raamyun-and-rambles · 4 years

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Musings of an Alchemist’s Lover

Fandom: Genshin Impact Pairing: Albedo x Reader Summary: Maybe you had a third eye somewhere you didn't know of, a horn that's grown out of you without you noticing or a tail that flicks behind you whenever you weren't looking. Whatever it was, certainly there had to be something noticeably different about you that attracted the alchemist's attention and your curiosity allowed your mind to wander.

-----------

Holding Albedo's attention for more than a few seconds was no easy feat.

Unless it was a topic that tickled his fancy or something of utmost urgence, Albedo would most likely only regard the unfortunate soul with a disgruntled hum, tuning out most of their words until he manages to somewhat catch onto the main gist of their spiel. He doesn't even do anything to hide his disinterest, eyes immediately finding purchase on anything else but the speaker in front of them, musing theories to himself that he'd sometimes let slip into a whisper. This certain trait of his has definitely gotten him into trouble more than a couple of times but Albedo could hardly care. Surely discovering the world's secrets is more important than helping the Knights look for Margaret's lost cat for the umpteenth now right?

Despite being Mondstadt's favorite person and with a reputation that precedes him, Albedo was surprisingly anti-social. He had little to no regards for social interaction and this is further proved when he made himself a makeshift laboratory in one of Dragonspine's cave.

It was quiet, deserted and had almost everything he needed for his studies. If he ever ran out of supplies then he'd be able to call for either Sucrose or Timaeus - or go down the mountain himself to make sure he'll stock up with more than the amount he needs so he can hole himself up for a couple of weeks on end. The scenery was an added bonus, if the amount of sketches he's made was anything to go by, it was safe to say that Albedo liked it as well. Thick snow carpeted the floor as far as the eye can go and streams glimmered under the light of the morning sun. The air was crisp and chilly, it nipped at his nose and made his cheeks burn red, but his cave offered a comforting warmth once he's sank in front of the hearth, nursing a cup of tea or hot chocolate.

Albedo was many things, that much you could tell.

A genius, an alchemical prodigy, a leader, a brother - and most surprisingly, even to yourself - your lover.

To be fairly honest you weren't entirely sure what it was that attracted the Chief Alchemist of the Knights to your side. You were hardly anyone special after all, simply just one of Lisa's many acquaintances who spends one too many hours in the library. You were of average height and build, with a face that you could only describe as forgettable. Neither you nor your parents were well-known within the walls of the city of freedom and you lived a mostly mundane routinary life as a baker until Klee had bounded into your humble store one rainy evening, soaked to the bone and sneezing from the cold. The poor thing was shivering and had asked to take shelter from the pouring rain. You didn't have the heart to turn her away and you were more than just a little familiar about the stories of Mond's most adorable but destructive spark knight. You allowed her into your home, giving her a fresh towel to pat herself dry and a cup of hot milk and freshly baked cookies. The child bounced in glee, thanking you and happily accepting the treats with a smile that could part the skies to make way for the rays of sun. You allowed her to phone her guardian after she had finished eating and you kept her company throughout the entire wait. You turned your attention away from Klee the moment the store bell rang and your (e/c) eyes had immediately met with bright turquoise irises.

"Thank you for taking care of her." Albedo said as he knelt down to assist Klee with wearing her infamous bright red coat and adjusted her mushroom hat so it sat snugly atop her head.

"It's no problem at all, she was lovely company. I'd be delighted to have her around again every once in a while." You chuckled, remembering how she had praised the treats you made for her.

"Albedo onii-chan Albedo onii-chan!" The spark knight excitedly exclaimed, tugging on his hand with each call of his name. "______ makes the best sweets! Her cookies are really good and the bread she makes are really fluffy! She let me help her mix the dough earlier and-"

"How about you tell me all about it when we get home Klee? It's late and I'm sure ______ has to close up shop soon."

Klee deflated a bit but was quick to understand, she turned to you immediately after and flashed you another bright smile.

"Thank you for today ______ nee-chan, Klee will come back to visit another time!"

You smiled at her enthusiasm and you couldn't resist the urge to pat her on the head.

"I'll be waiting for you here then."

Albedo stood up after the exchange and finally regarded you with his attention. "We'll be off then, have a lovely evening miss ______."

"And to you too sir Kreideprinz."

You watch them walk off down the cobbled street, Klee's joyous laughter and excited chatter filling the air despite the pattering of rain against your roof. They took a turn around the corner and disappeared from your view. A small smile tugs on your features and you immediately set to work with locking up the store for the night.

Klee had started coming over more often after that night, mostly dropping by before you close while she waited for Albedo to finish work. It was no surprise that Klee often talked fondly about her big brother, praising him and telling you stories you haven't heard from any of the other residents of Mond while you prepared for tomorrow's next batch of goods. Albedo seemed like a very busy man from the way Klee tells her stories but he always seemed to make time to pick her up, oftentimes buying some bread and sweets before leaving.

It surprised you a little when he admitted he enjoyed having something sweet while he worked. Albedo insisted that it was because it gave him a considerable boost of energy but a part of you thinks it could just be because he had a sweet tooth he just wasn't aware of.

Needless to say it was due to that chance encounter with Klee that had allowed you to meet the chief alchemist himself and your relationship had only continued to bloom from there.

He was - in simple terms - wonderful.

An eccentric, true, but wonderful nonetheless and you never would have guessed that you'd ever end up as his lover nor did you ever imagine you'd be holding him in your arms, sleep slowly overtaking him as you gently ran your fingers through soft platinum locks - much like the lazy morning you were both sharing right now.

Albedo had come home at almost 3 in the morning the other night, with a throbbing headache and eyes that almost refused to open from drowse. He had pulled all-nighters for several days now, refusing to leave his lab for even a moment as he fully threw himself into his work. Nothing could ever stop him when he was in such a state, filled with elation at the mere prospect of a new discovery. It was a side of him that you admired as much as you found it problematic, it was amazing how he could wholly dedicate all his time, effort and energy towards his research but it was a definitely a point of worry that he'd also forget how to take care of himself. The alchemist immediately headed to your shared bedroom, dragging his feet across the floor while he shed himself of his coat, letting out a long yawn before heaving himself onto the mattress' soft comfort. You stirred from your sleep as the bed dipped and knowing it couldn't possibly be anyone else other than Albedo, you immediately rolled to your side and wrapped your arms around his middle, nuzzling into his warmth as his arms found themselves around you to return your embrace. There was an exchange of sleepy mumbles before you both immediately fell back into sleep.

You smile a little bit at the memory, humming softly as you continue to softly card your fingers through his hair. It was more than just a little past the time you both usually woke, but you'll allow it for now. Surely the people could wait a couple hours more for their morning bread and the knights can surely make do without the Chief Alchemist for a moment longer. So long as Albedo was getting the rest he needed you figured a lazy morning in would be alright every once in a while especially after the sleepless hectic nights he had the past few days. The peaceful expression on his face immediately filled you with relief.

"Albedo?" You whispered, afraid you'd break the serenity of the morning.

The alchemist responded with a sleepy hum, lifting his head so he could look at you as his long lashes fluttered open.

A smile tugged at your lips at his sleepy visage before you gently pressed a kiss on his forehead.

"I love you."

He gives you a sleepy smile of his own, heart swelling at the affection before nuzzling back into the crook of your neck.

"I love you too."

His lips brushed against your pulse as he spoke and his breath tickled against your skin, feeling a little playful, you then decided to ask.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"But why?"

A question you've always been meaning to ask, brought about by a sudden spur of confidence.

"Because meine liebe," Albedo starts, once again pulling himself away from your warmth to hold you with his gaze - you once again think to yourself that his eyes has the most beautiful shade of green - "I love you simply because you are you."

"You're certain it's not because I have a third eye hidden away somewhere or some freaky mutation I somehow have no knowledge of?"

Albedo chuckled lightly.

"Certainly not love, and I'm sure if you do I wouldn't be the only one to take notice of it."

You hum, convinced and resumed patting his hair.

The alchemist assumed his earlier position and sank further into your embrace.

"Besides," he murmured, sleep lacing his words,

"I think you're wonderful just the way you are."

#genshin impact #genshin impact albedo #albedo #genshin impact fanfiction #reader insert #reader #albedo x reader #not beta read my bad lmao

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soulmate-game · 4 years

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Continuation of the story from Day 1, because you guys requested it enough that I started Thinking, lol.

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Day 3: Siblings

—*—*—*—*—*

Dinner. One day after meeting her father for the first time. She had managed to postpone any sort of… socialization and emotional bonding, during their meeting earlier for everyone to choose from Marinette’s initial sketches for them and generally consult some more, by once again steamrolling everyone with Professionalism and Business Marinette.

But no longer. She couldn’t escape. Staring at a giant wooden, elaborate door like it was her pathway to Prison—

“Stop dramatizing everything in your head, Mari,” Adrien fondly scolded, gently rapping the side of her skull with one knuckle. “I got things to do, for your company I might add, so I can’t stay. But, you’ll be fine,” he leaned in, smirking at her and winking as he lowered his voice. “Besides, you’ve been through way worse than a little family reunion, Bugaboo. You’ve faced down way scarier people than the Waynes. You got this,” he encouraged before giving her a solid clap on the shoulder and a chaste kiss on the cheek, walking back towards their sleek but understated dark red car. Rented, of course, for the business trip, but nonetheless very nice.

Adrien had driver’s licenses for just about every major country. Marinette stopped questioning it a while ago.

She waited until he was gone before throwing her hands up. “Scarier people, he says. Like the Bat clan isn’t known for being some of the most intimidating heroes and vigilantes in the spotlight,” she grumbled. When she turned around, it was to the door already being open, and she jumped a bit in surprise. She hadn’t heard anyone answer the door, but sure enough Alfred Pennyworth stood there holding the door with a small smile, with Bruce Wayne and all of Marinette’s siblings gathered behind him. At least this time, nobody had their spouses or children. Every one of them was smirking, some more sharply than others (Damian).

“Would you like to come in, Miss Dupain-Cheng?” Alfred asked, waving his hand to gesture to the fact that there was plenty of room for her to enter. Blushing, she did just that, taking a breath and forcing herself to actually look at the family she had just met instead of down at her glossy navy blue pumps. Jason, the man with the white fringe in his hair. Second Robin, current Red Hood, her mind supplied, spoke up with a grin and his arms crossed over his chest.

“You don’t look so suave anymore, little Queenie,” he teased. Marinette instantly made a face, screwing up her nose.

“No. That nickname is vetoed. One of my friend’s nicknames is Queenie, and not only will she never let me live it down if she finds out someone called me that, but, just no,” Marinette dramatically shivered. “Most of my friends call me Princess nowadays anyway,” she shrugged. “Adrien started it, and it somehow caught on. It’s too much work to protest at this point.”

“You’re not good with crowds,” the soft spoken woman, Cassandra, decided to add. Marinette winced, shifting on her feet even as she followed the group to the dining room.

“Ehhh. I’ve gotten used to dealing with press and stuff, to a certain degree anyway considering my alias. And wearing my Business persona always helps in consultations. But, I’m not…” Marinette bit the inside of her cheek, clearly a little uncomfortable as she looked around. “The best at… actually talking to people outside of my small group of friends.”

Bruce sighed as most of his kids chuckled or snorted at that. Dick, the oldest but second-shortest of the men besides Tim, came over and draped an arm familiarly over Marinette’s shoulders. He still towered over her though, so he had to slouch a bit to do so.

“Ah, that would be the genetics. Let’s hope you stay where you are at instead of getting as bad at communication as B,” he told her cheerfully. She raised an eyebrow at him.

“What about Damian?”

“He’s even worse!”

“Tt,” said teenager tutted, rolling his eyes as they entered the dining room and he was able to come up to Marinette’s other side. “That was mostly how I was raised before I met Father. I have gotten a lot better than I used to be, Grayson.”

Dick gave him a smile, graciously relieving Marinette of the close contact in favor of rustling Damian’s hair despite the fact that the younger Wayne was taller than him already. “Yes, you sure have! But you still need improvement, baby bird.”

Soon enough, everyone managed to get seated around the large dining table. Bruce insisted that Marinette take one of the seats next to him at the head of the table, across from Damian, since this was her first family dinner. Dick sat next to her, Jason across from him, followed by Tim and Duke on Damian’s side of the table. On the other side of Dick sat Cassandra, and then Stephanie. Alfred served everyone before also taking a seat at the table, on the opposite end from Bruce.

And, true to BatFam tradition, everything was a little awkward for the first minute or two. Marinette didn’t know what to say, and nobody quite knew where to begin. Dick would normally start a conversation, but he was trying to glare into Bruce’s head a silent message of “talk to her, damn it.”

Finally seeming to get it, Bruce cleared his throat and turned to Marinette. “So, I wanted to ask. When do you find out about being my daughter?”

Several people around the table closed their eyes in mourning for Bruce’s social skills. Marinette though, just smiled in slight relief at the decision of how to start talking being taken from her.

“Oh. It was in stages, really. When I was ten, we started our unit in school on genetics. I don’t usually care enough about science to do much more than the school requires, but genetics captivated me for some reason. I researched it almost obsessively at home for a while, almost instantly realizing that there had to be a reason that I had blue eyes when none of the rest of my family did. After a week or two, I found my Maman and Papan’s adoption papers in their room,” she blushed, tugging on one end of her bangs, which she had framing her face since she was wearing her hair down that day. “I uh… I’ve always been a little nosy. I never told them that I found the papers, to me it was just the answer I needed. I didn’t think about it at all after that, and my obsession over genetics went away. It wasn’t until I was thirteen that I decided to look into my birth parents,” Marinette sighed, shoving a bite of food in her mouth to buy her time before continuing. Everyone was focused on her, and it was a little unsettling. Every one of them had a sharper gaze than a normal person, and it made her feel like she was made of glass and everyone else could see right through her. “I was going through a lot, back then. I wanted someone to be mad at, I wanted to be able to blame my DNA for the things that had happened.”

“Things?” Bruce interrupted, back straight and eyebrows drawn down. “What things?” Marinette giggled, tilting her head instead of answering and just letting her eyes study him. Bruce Wayne, Batman, the Dark Knight. Original vigilante of Gotham city, one of the founding members of the Justice League. Famous for his secrecy, intimidating presence, and intelligence. Then she switched her gaze, one by one, to everyone else at the table before leaning back and taking a sip of her soda.

“Do you guys know anything about the situation Paris experienced for four years?” She asked, instead of directly answering. It was Tim who frowned, leaning forward to look at her and reply.

“I heard very vague rumors of weird things, but nothing concrete enough to investigate. What happened?”

Marinette hummed, deciding to sum it up for them. “The short version? When I was thirteen, a classmate of mine spontaneously turned into a giant rock monster and destroyed a good portion of the city. Turns out, that was the first of many attacks by our city’s very own supervillain, Hawkmoth. He had a magical artifact that allowed him to take advantage of anyone’s negative emotions to give them powers and brainwash them into being, essentially, temporary villains that he used for his own means. Two heroes showed up out of nowhere, powered by similar magical artifacts, to combat him and free the people he corrupted. Ladybug and Chat Noir, the original Parisian heroes and the leaders of the team that later had to form.”

Jason frowned, along with everyone else at the table. Finally, it was Duke who asked:

“How did we not know about villains in Paris?” To which Marinette just gave him a dangerously wicked smirk that was far too similar to Damian’s for anyone’s comfort.

“Because I do my job,” she told him flatly, sipping from her cup as everyone stared at her in various amounts of shock. “That’s why finding out that my biological father was Batman made so much sense. That’s why I wanted to find out who my birth parents were. I wanted to blame the heroism on genetics. And, it doesn’t look like I was exactly wrong.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Yeah, that was how her first family dinner and subsequent identity reveal went.

Luckily, considering that Bruce had hired MDC for a pretty long job, Marinette was able to finish school online instead of going back to Paris for it. There was no real need anyway, they had defeated Hawkmoth and gotten Adrien emancipated so for now it was calm in Paris. They didn’t need their heroes anymore, for the time being. This meant that Marinette and Adrien, along with a few employees that helped measure and cut fabric and do secretarial duties they needed help with, got to stay in Gotham while Marinette went back and forth to Wayne manor, Wayne Tower, and back to their temporary home.

After about a month, Marinette was comfortable enough with the Waynes that she found herself lounging in the bat cave as she sketched, though she kept raising her eyes to the glass tubes that held old uniforms. Damian was sat across from her, essentially laying out over two chairs while he played some game upside down on his phone. He might usually be a cold brat, even for a sixteen year old, but even he liked to abuse the way furniture should be used and ignore the world via technology.

But he still caught her constantly wandering gaze.

“You don’t like them.”

“They suck!” Marinette immediately agreed, slamming her sketchbook on the metal briefing table. “Your Robin outfit is the only passable one there is! The colors aren’t even the issue, even high fashion designers can appreciate a good color clash moment. But what was Father thinking?! Putting Grayson in that glorified onesie— why are there no pants?! Jason’s at least as a cape that can cocoon his body and prevent anyone from seeing the disaster beneath. I should thank Tim for at least upgrading the suit to having pants, but he still kept the outside-underwear look that I cannot forgive. The attempt at fashion, though, is appreciated. Disappointing, but appreciated.”

“That pretty much sums them all up,” Damian quipped, getting a snort of amusement out of his sister. Maybe that was one thing he had grown to like about her. She didn’t reprimand him for his sense of humor, and usually she even laughed along. The more morbid humor would get a playful shove and a glare, but no real animosity. And she understood him on a different level, too. One he appreciated even more.

“You said, yesterday, that the Cure brings back everyone who dies during a Miraculous-related incident,” Damian spoke up again after a moment, pointedly not looking at her. “Did you ever count?”

Marinette, this being one of the reasons he was quickly growing fond of her, immediately understood. She sighed, closing her notebook. She might have only been two years his elder, but she had had what felt like a lifetime of more experiences than he did, usually in the friendship and social department though. They were roughly equal in their heroism experience, which was weird to think about, but Damian still valued her input. It was different from the rest of the family.

“It was different in Paris than it would be for anyone else. I didn’t keep track of the number of people who died,” she finally answered, taking her hair out of its work bun and running her hands through the midnight black locks. “But I kept track of how often. Since nobody remembered their deaths, I guess I felt it was my responsibility to remember my failures for them. My former best friend, Alya. Over the course of those four years, she died seventeen times. Her boyfriend, Nino, died fourteen. The Mayor died three times. Chloe, my current friend and former bully, died twenty-two times,” she grimaced at Damian’s shocked expression, nodding grimly. “During those first two, maybe two and a half years, she was one of the primary Akuma targets. She was still either an active bully or in the beginning of trying to change for the better, so she caused a lot of negative emotions everywhere she went. Things got better once she matured a bit, though. Anyway, there’s this girl I used to babysit. Manon. She died five times before she was even ten years old,” Marinette shook her head, that look of age and exhaustion that Damian saw in every Wayne and every hero he had ever fought with seeping into her eyes. “My parents, they died thirty-seven times. They were constantly worried about me, and ran into danger on several occasions trying to find and keep me safe. But I could never tell them who I was. I physically could. I had the power to sit them down and say; Hey, I’m Ladybug. Stop running out and getting yourselves killed. But I never did. I valued my identity first. So I usually ended up seeing, in the middle of a fight, one or both of them squished under falling debris. Or drowned. Frozen solid. Burned alive,” she paused, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “So no. I don’t understand what it was like for you, to count bodies as you felled them. But hell, if it doesn’t feel like I should. Logic doesn’t mean much in the face of emotion, especially guilt. I know I didn’t kill the people I care about, but every single one of their deaths weighs on me like I was the one that caused it.”

Damian nodded, and they shared a few moments of peaceful, contemplative silence as they both ruminated on their less than pleasant memories without fear of being yelled at for what those memories contained.

“But, I do have a secret,” she admitted softly, attracting her brother’s emerald-eyed attention again. The normally cheerful woman was much more subdued even than before, sapphire irises self conscious and vulnerable, which was rare. She licked her lips, even more rare considering her love of her light pink lipstick, and moved off her chair so that she was, instead, sitting on the cold stone floor. Without hesitation, Damian joined her.

“Technically, it didn’t happen. It was a timeline that my friend, the one who I gave the snake Miraculous, essentially erased when he reversed time. But I remember it even though I shouldn’t. How could I forget?”

“You took a life,” Damian whispered, grimacing in empathy. “First time?”

“And the second, and the fifth,” she admitted. “Viperion had to try seven times before I stopped repeating it. But it was always the same person, back during our final battle. I killed Gabriel Agreste seven times. But nobody but me and Luca will ever remember.”

Damian and Marinette both knew it wasn’t the same as Damian’s childhood. They both knew that they would likely never fully understand one another’s trauma. Not the nuances of it. But they did understand the important parts, the broad strokes. Despite their vastly different lives, they understood the big parts that shaped one another.

That was why Damian took to her so quickly. If he had been younger and still bratty, naive, and angry at everything, then it would be a different story entirely. But he was matured, more willing to let himself feel sympathy. And that made the difference.

“You never forget the first person,” he remarked.

“No matter the age or timeline,” she agreed. “I saw how hard it was to stop. How sickeningly addictive it can be, but I hate what it makes me more than I like how it feels.”

“... me too,” Damian whispered. “Me too.”

—*—*—*—*—*

“Wooo!” Marinette cheered as she flew through the air, her hands latching onto Dick’s. There was no audience, but there didn’t need to be. Just the two of them, doing a routine that they’ve been working on during the few chances they had for the past several weeks. Marinette had never done trapeze before Dick helped her learn, but her time swinging through Paris streets helped tremendously alongside her general Gymnastics experience.

Marinette and Dick flipped through the air, swinging from bar to bar, Dick occasionally catching and tossing her again. They soared through the air, both curling through two flips before landing on their respective platforms with matching wide smiles. Marinette, chest heaving a bit since she was slightly out of shape (meaning that she wasn’t at all out of shape, only out of practice when it came to swinging through the air for any length of time. There’s a difference). She met Dick on the floor, who proceeded to ruffle her hair happily.

“That was awesome! Looks like you finally got the routine down,” he praised. She laughed, elbowing him.

“I bet I’m better on the balance beam,” she challenged, making Dick grin widely.

“Oh you are on!”

—*—*—*—*—*

“Ya ever died before?” Jason asked, making Marinette chuckle.

“Two-hundred and eighty-seven times.”

“You started as Ladybug at thirteen, right?”

“Yup. No training or mentor for the first year either.”

“Yeah, then that sounds about right. Wanna go break all the traffic laws?”

“Only if we take your bike.”

“Fuckin’ Duh. What else?”

—*—*—*—*—*

“You stalked Adrien?” Tim asked, smirking that insufferable smirk of his. Marinette groaned, flopping back onto the sofa.

“No! I didn’t mean it that way, anyway. I just took a lot of pictures and spied on him.”

“Yup. You’re Bruce’s kid,” he remarked, tapping away at his laptop. Marinette narrowed her eyes.

“You have noooo place to judge, Mister ‘Dick Grayson is the only person alive who can do four somersaults in the air!’ And ‘Yes, I‘ve known that you are batman since I was eight. Look at all these pictures I took when I— what was your terminology again?”

Tim rolled his eyes, but a grin was peeking through. “Yeah, yeah.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Four months later, and Marinette was staring down at all the garment bags she had painstakingly filled. Outfits for every single one of her new family members. It took a while, but they were ready for the Wayne Gala. Adrien slung am arm over her shoulder.

“You’ve outdone yourself again, Princess,” he praised, grinning at the array of coveted outfits they were about to transport. “But one teensy weeny, tiny little thing.”

“What is it, Chaton?”

Adrien grinned. “Do you have a dress for yourself? Bruce invited you, too, didn’t he?”

Marinette’s face drained of color, right as a knock sounded on the door. Adrien, seeing as Marinette was so far into Panic Mode that she could not be reached at the moment, went to open the door. A second later, plastic was all Marinette could see. Blinking, she raised her head.

It was Cass, holding out a pink garment bag with Marinette’s name on it.

“Thought you would forget,” was all the other woman offered as explanation. Marinette, after gaping for a moment, slowly took the bag from her. Cass smirked. “Present from WE.”

Marinette laughed.

“You guys are the best.”

—*—*—*—*—*

@momothefemur @ladybug-182 @starlightshield @trippingovermyfeet @greatcatblaze @sam-i-am-0222 @bluesimani @ruelukas22 @acoolspacegirl

#mlb x dc #ml x dc #maribat #b!dbwm2020 #bio dad bruce wayne #Day Three #platonic Brucinette #Platonic Daminette

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aquitainequeen · 3 years

Text

All Is Bliss (Until Someone Loses An Eye): Chapter One: This Is A Glorious Day/Nightmare; Strike Out As Appropriate

Special thanks to @fairy-anon-godmother and @yototothelalafell for being rubber ducks to my rant about this chapter, and to @ellynneversweet for so kindly reading it through several times as it hinged on completion!

(Previous Chapter)

When Vlad closes the doors behind Marial, that’s when Catharine asks her, ‘The Sun Summoner. Is she the real thing, or a fake?’

Marial halts so quickly that the items on the breakfast tray rattle. ‘Really? You’re asking me this?’

‘’Well, yes. Of course.’

Marial sets down the tray and promptly starts raiding it. ‘Real. Kirigan wouldn’t have any part of this if she were a fraud, and he would’ve tested her the moment she was brought before him. She’s real.’

So: Yes, yes, yes! Catherine finally releases all the bubbling joy and it’s flowing everywhere like sparkling wine foaming out of her glass . It’s like the time when she was lording it over Angelique about going to the East to be Empress; it’s the moment she went to her knees and first kissed the ground of East Ravka, greeting it, marrying it. Saints, saints, thanks to you all, how you love me!

What to say, how to say it? Upon this cornerstone she’ll build her claim. ‘The Sun Summoner. Ravka’s shining blazing hope, rising to banish the darkness and the divide in our beautiful land.’ Catherine thumps her clenched first against her breast, that will be most affecting. ‘So soon after I crossed the Fold from West to East, the Sun Summoner rose up to help me light the path ahead, for Ravka and my people —’

‘Who are you talking to?’ Marial says through a mouth full of soft cheese, lounging against the settee. It does not bode well for future speeches.

Nonetheless, Catherine persists: ‘Practising. For when the time is ripe. This is an auspicious beginning for my journey to true power. Ravka’s saviours have emerged together to free our land and our people from tyranny and shadow.’

‘Maybe get some food in you, before you go any further with the speechmaking and the grand plans?’

Impudent; but, Marial is right. This is going to need a full belly and some careful thought. She will have so many blinis with sweetened soured clotted cream and jam, oh, and some tea filled with more jam, sweetness galore!

Marial sticks with the cheese and a plain cup of tea. ‘What did Kirigan say about her? In his letter?’

‘Apparently not much; Orlo says he likely dashed it off before starting back to Os Alta from the Fold. He’s sent the Sun Summoner ahead of him, heavily guarded. Her name’s Alina Starkova, isn’t that just so perfect? She’s young, she’s a cartographer in the First Army. Or,’ Catherine’s throat twitches, a gulp of tea to moisten it up, ‘she was a cartographer. She’ll never have to sketch a map again.’

‘So…’ Marial makes Catherine wait while she takes her own sip of tea. ‘The Sun Summoner just happens to emerge, right at this point, after escaping notice in the First Army for years?’

‘Evidently. What about it?’

Marial fusses with her cup. ‘Seems a bit convenient. How was she able to go without being discovered for so long?’

‘By the Grisha testers?’

‘They test every child in Ravka. Every child. How did they miss her? How did she hide her powers for so long?’

Catherine swallows more of her tea and her why does it matter? because clearly Marial thinks it does and if she’s going to be Empress in her own right, she needs to start thinking beyond the first flush of joy, the fantasy of a storybook romance and a cute pet bear. ‘Maybe she wasn’t tested. There are so many people in East Ravka and the records are shoddy, some people are bound to slip through the cracks.’ Not that this will happen in the future. When she is in power there will be bread, freedom and security for all, never mind what Marial and Orlo say, and all voices will be heard.

Marial sits on the chaise’s arm. ‘And she’s never shown her powers before now? The baby Grisha in the Little Palace are always losing their tempers and causing uproar. One of them killed a man by accident, once, right in front of me.’

‘You’re not serious.’

‘I’m absolutely serious. Though admittedly Count Kireyev was an absolute cunt, and the Emperor thought it was hilarious, so all was forgiven.’

Catherine is not going to ask what exactly happened to the cuntish Count Kireyev , if Peter of all people found it amusing. ‘Well. If she couldn’t control her powers, then she would have been found before now.’ She twists about in her seat and manages to catch and hold Marial’s eye. ‘And if you’re suggesting she’s a spy, then she wouldn’t have survived in Fjerda and in Kerch they’d have enslaved her.’

‘Granted. What do you think she’s like?’ The last question is a little less sour and more intrigued, so it deserves some consideration.

Cuddling into cushions, Catherine licks up jam and thinks. All those old performances of Sun Summoner plays from her girlhood, before the independence movement began stirring and they fell out of fashion. A girl in yellow, fighting and bashing other dancers in black, and now the story those girls performed has stepped out of myths and legends! It’s all too much! What’s most important now?

‘She will be… tall. Golden haired,’ as she tucks her hair strand back in place and takes up her cup again. ‘Graceful...polite, delicate, refined, poised, punctual.’

‘Did you get that from another one of your books? What was it on, deportment?’

‘From my mother. She gave me a grand speech about how I should make myself pleasing to my husband. She said they were the ideal qualities of a perfect wife.’

Catherine could picture her mother’s face. She could imagine her standing tall, golden and graceful, refined and poised, splendid and outshining her scant finery. She’d rather fantasize about grabbing her mother, shaking her, knocking her to the ground, getting in her face and screaming what were you thinking to send me here, to him, so unprepared; did you know, did you know what he was?

Best just to focus on the bright sunshine coming through the window, and to sip her tea.

They both chew and swallow several times before Marial speaks again: ‘If the Sun Summoner’s from the First Army, she’ll likely be none of what you just mentioned. Chances are she’s a foul mouthed, filthy peasant, with mud coloured hair underneath all the dirt. You really want to ally yourself with something like that?’

Marial’s only being her usual sour and snarkish self, true, but Catherine bites down hard on I’m allied with you right now, aren’t I? Marial might technically be all of those things at this very point in time (save the filthiness) but Catherine herself is not one of the bitchy court ladies. Though, need Marial be so sour and snarkish about everything again?

‘Of course I do. And why are you so determined to be gloomy, when a new hope has dawned over Ravka?’

‘Gloom is my refuge, Empress. A servant has no right to react, even to the country’s salvation.’

Catherine’s fingers are sticky from the jam, but Marial needs a hand on her wrist to shake her out of staring at nothing and her desolation, right now. ‘You’re not going to be a servant for much longer, Marial. Don’t let it grind you down.’

Marial smiles all sharp. ‘I’m already placing my hope in you, Empress. Placing it in the Sun Summoner as well is deadly. Hope’s such a dangerous thing.’ And she’s keeping her hand limp in Catherine’s, like a loose glove filled with long stones, too wary to grasp.

‘I will kill Peter. And you will be free.’ Catherine tears off a bit of blini with her teeth, just to prove her point, and it does get Marial smiling a little softer!

That’s enough touching, now; time to let Marial go, time to be Empress again. ‘And if Alina Starkova has served in the First Army, she’s no doubt brave, noble, bold, courteous and devoted to her mother country.’

‘No doubt. Have you ever spoken to one of the First Army’s soldiers, Empress?’

‘No?’

‘Then you’re in for a treat.’

Catherine sniffs and looks back to the window, the sunshine quite lovely on her cheeks. ‘Alina Starkova will also naturally be tender, compassionate and joyous.’

‘That I do doubt. It’s been a long war, Empress, and no one has gotten much joy from it, save the Emperor.’

‘Then that is one more thing I will have to remedy, when I take the throne. I should make some notes. Where’s the paper? This is a glorious day.’

***

‘This is a fucking nightmare.’ Thus, Orlo opens their latest council of war. It is not glorious.

‘Orlo, not you too! She’ll banish the Fold, she’ll help me reunite Ravka.’ And when Orlo raises a finger to try and cut in or tell her to just wait a moment while he waffles on, Catherine only says louder, ‘In what way, pray tell, is this a nightmare?’

‘It’s!’ Orlo actually seems close to panicking; listen, listen. It must be important. ‘It’s not the Sun Summoner, that’s actually very good. But I hoped we’d have months. I thought you would be far more established at court by the time Kirigan got back, you would have been able to meet him fully secured in your role. Right now Peter’s only barely been persuaded out of killing you, the Apparat’s support is fleeting, all the court ladies are wary of you, and the Little Palace thinks you’re an utter joke.’

Well. Hardly a pleasant thing to hear, but regrettably true for his first three points. Marial gets there before Catherine when it comes to the fourth: ‘How the fuck do you know what they’re saying about her in the Little Palace?’

Orlo clearly already regrets everything. ‘I. Well. I have a few acquaintances there.’

‘What kind of acquaintances? Is it a Heartrender? Big, beefy Heartrender? I can see the appeal; the best ones can make you come without even touching you.’ Marial tries her best to bring her lips to Orlo’s ear as he tries his best to get away. ‘Multiple. Times.’

‘Fuck’s sake!’ Orlo decamps to a place of greater safety, so Marial gets the whole of the settee to lounge upon. ‘I have to discuss aspects of Peter’s policy with Kirigan’s delegates on occasion. You know, my job.’

‘Oh, disappointing. Once again I’m reminded just how boring a life you lead.’

Once Marial shuts up, Catherine can finally get her word in. ‘So, wait, you actually talk to the Grisha, Orlo?

They stare at her like she’s a pet bear.

‘Well, yes. Of course. If we wish.’

‘They can even talk back, if they wish. They’re not servants.' Marial stands up all of a sudden at that, just in case someone bursts in and catches her lounging.

‘Do you not talk to them? Empress?’ This from Orlo, beginning to look most worried. Is Catherine the cause of that? She can’t lose him now! What does he want her to say?

‘Our estate wasn’t near enough to the border, or wealthy enough, to merit one being in residence. And any children on our land who were discovered were sent to the Little Palace right away. The first time I ever saw a Grisha up close was during the journey through the Fold, and then I wasn’t allowed to talk to them for fear they’d get distracted and we’d all die with the Volcra chewing our guts.’

They all nod. Indeed, something to be avoided at all costs.

‘And then I saw some of them were at the wedding banquet, but none of them got near enough.’

‘Empress, may I just ask –’ No, no! Orlo is worried by her now. By what she’ll say. What did she do wrong? ‘What are your attitudes towards the Grisha?’

Careful, careful. ‘How do you mean?’

Marial, casting her eyes up in thought: ‘Well, let’s see; do you think they’re demons walking around in human skins and devoid of souls?’

‘What? No!’

‘There, you see?’ Marial ignores Catherine to look at Orlo. ‘Already she’s doing better than the Church.’

‘Oh saints, do people here actually still believe that?’

‘A few.’ Marial considers. ‘Mmm, more than a few. Most of the peasants. Some of the more devout and stupid nobles. The Apparat, on his bad days.’ She spots Catherine’s face and grimaces. ‘Yeah, he and Kirigan don’t really get along.’’

This from Orlo, clasping his hands like he’s ready to rub them in glee — not worried now, is he?! ‘What is your position on the rise of indentured servitude inflicted upon the Grisha in Kerch, and particularly Ketterdam?’

‘Abominable, of course!’

Orlo hisses Yes! and pumps his fist. ‘And if Kirigan should ask what you think of the fact that General Zlatan’s likely turning a blind eye to Fjerda raiding West Ravkan ports, and abducting Grisha?’

Catherine bites down hard on He’s fucking doing what? because she isn’t talking to Orlo now, this is merely a prompt for when she will be speaking to Kirigan, who will be judging her and cannot find her wanting when it comes to the Second Army, his army, her army. ‘I would say that — that Zlatan is a fool and a traitor towards Ravka, to not only let her subjects be captured and slaughtered by her enemies, but to actually permit it.’

‘All right. That’s wonderful! Oh saints, that’s such a relief.’ Orlo almost falls into a chair, takes off his glasses and rubs away the sweat.

While he recovers, Catherine turns to Marial. ‘I just thought, because Peter was the only one to speak to them at the banquet, no one else was of high enough rank? Or we both are, as Emperor and Empress. But the nobility can talk to them as well?’

Marial shrugs. ‘Even we servants can; but, that’s the thing. You can, but why would you want to?’

Catherine meets Orlo’s eye. Once more she feels his kindred spirit, how he pleads with all his soul for her to deliver him from this uneducated hellhole, he hates it here too.

‘Aside from the fact that I need to get the Second Army on my side, why would you not want to? When they practise the Small Science? When their existence so thoroughly shapes and affects the universe, and they have fought so hard to protect Ravka against her enemies?!’

Marial, she who has no romance in her soul, snorts. ‘Again, watched a baby Grisha kill a man before my very eyes. And they’re all arrogant pricks.’

‘Which you clearly have plenty of experience with.’ Orlo stands and twists out of reach of Marial, snarling and trying to land a blow on his arm. ‘The Grisha rarely come to the Grand Palace save on official business, and non-Grisha are only welcome in the Little Palace by special invitation. I was hoping we’d have a chance to improve your reputation with the Grisha, before Kirigan returned; I know certain of them will have written to him about your — ’

He gestures helplessly at the entirety of Catherine. ‘Your everything.’

‘But now he’ll return to find me with a husband who barely tolerates me. A court that hates me.’ Strange, that Catherine only really starts thinking of the Black General himself when he’s opposed to her, rather than serving her. She should be terrified. Should she be terrified?

‘He’ll judge you, and – forgive me, Empress, but he’ll find you wanting. And you’ll be a weakling in his eyes forever. He might not be able to fob off Peter, but he’ll never allow you to touch the Sun Summoner’s train if he deems you worthless.’

Think of being the object of disdain, for a man like that! Enough to make one shrivel and die. But if she’s going to be Empress she cannot be afraid of anything. She especially can’t be jumping at, hah, at shadows. Not when the sunlight is so warm on her hair and skin, even through a window and her gown.

Marial breaks the silence in her own special way. ‘Besides which, he’ll be inclined to fuck you over regardless, since he can’t get at General Zlatan.’

Ah. Zlatan. Of course he would still be cocking things up for her, even on this side of the Fold. ‘Zlatan protested my betrothal at every turn, and I shall see him dealt with. But why would Kirigan hate me, if my marriage unifies Ravka?’

‘Therein lies the problem-’ This from Orlo, palms facing upwards and empty- ‘-he dearly wants West Ravka brought back into the Emperor’s bosom-'

‘Brought to heel, ‘ Marial mutters.

‘-but not at the expense of the East. Peter’s already far too obsessed with the West and western thinking for Kirigan’s liking as it is. He’ll worry that you’ve brought dangerous ideas to court that could threaten his position.’

‘Plus his Little Palace and his army.’

Orlo nods agreement with Marial. ‘The General is a most fervent protector of the Second Army and the Grisha. When the search for Peter’s bride moved to West Ravka, Kirigan did voice his concerns about an Empress with western attitudes towards Grisha.’

Frankly, Catherine’s flattered that Kirigan might think her attitude has any weight whatsoever right now; and more flattered Orlo believes that Kirigan would think it. ‘His concern is misplaced. All people of Ravka are my children, West and East, Grisha and non-Grisha alike. Every Ravkan child has the right to live without fear, in the knowledge that Mother Ravka is their staunchest defender.’

Marial groans — she actually rolls her eyes, the cow. ‘Pretty words, but he’s heard such things a thousand times before, signifying nothing. You’ll need to back up all your grand speeches.’

Catherine marches over to the table so that she can at least finish her bloody breakfast. ‘Fine. Then how am I to do that, if he’s apt to “fuck me over ” rather than listen to me?’

‘Marial’s being ridiculous; there would be no fucking.’ Orlo pauses, distracted, and shudders like a startled horse. ‘And you do have some advantages — the chief being that you aren’t Peter.’

‘That is not the least bit encouraging, Orlo.’ Catherine bites into the last blini, looking him dead in the eye and chewing hard.

‘I meant that Kirigan’s known Peter for nearly all of his life, and any hopes he had for him are thoroughly burned. You, now, are an entirely new and unknown factor. You can woo him with your ideas and plans. You need to show him that when you take the throne, you have the drive and capacity to bring about the change he desires.’

‘Right.’ Catherine nods, swallows, sets her best foot forward in her mind. ‘So. What exactly does he want?’

‘Basically, just promise him whatever he asks for when it comes to the Grisha, and you’ll have him eating out of your hand.’ Marial’s voice gets lighter as she stares off into the distance: ‘Maybe even eating from further down.’

What?

Orlo chimes in thank the saints. ‘Whatever he asks, within reason. Remember, it has to be believable. And you do not want Kirigan angry at you, if you fail to keep your promises right away when you come to power.’

Catherine waits for the terror to finally arrive. Think of one of the most dangerous men in Ravka, in the world, furious with her! And yet think, too, of making deals with the Black General, of being able to lure and hook and reel him in, of having the ability to grant his desires! ‘He’s the leader of the entire Second Army, he won’t be satisfied with small promises.’

‘All right then. Forget wooing him, try seducing him.’

Catherine glares at bloody Marial. ‘Two minutes ago, you were saying he’d gladly fuck me out of spite because he can’t get at Zlatan. Now you’re saying I should spread my legs for him? How is this in any way an improvement?’

‘This is quite different . Make him want to fuck you out of raw desire, as opposed to revenge by proxy.’

‘Yes, because that worked so well last time.’ And they both look at Orlo. Who looks at his shoes and also looks like he wishes to shrivel up and disappear, but he manages to squeak, ‘He’ll never go for it.’

‘Unlike some people around here, Kirigan actually knows what to do with a woman. And he has a definite taste for royalty.’

Not Peter. Don’t let it be Peter. Please, Sankt Valentin, don’t let her have to compete with her husband over another one of his bed mates.

‘Supposedly he was one of Elizabeth’s lovers for a time, back in the day.’

That…is marginally better. ‘Really?’ Somewhere behind Catherine, Orlo’s saying ‘oh saints’.

‘Oh, yeah. Sometimes when she’s more off her tits than usual, she says he ruined her for anyone else, no matter how she searches, and I do believe she’s serious. So, he must have left quite the impression.’

Which means Catherine might have to try and seduce the deadliest man in Ravka, who is also old enough to have swived her aunt-by-marriage in her girlhood…so, old enough to be her own father, at least. Saints. At least Peter’s young and easy on the eye, and he smells like something living. Plus Kirigan was able to satisfy Aunt Elizabeth; who knows what kind of bizarre tricks he’ll expect in bed, or against a wall? And she fucked it all up with just virgin Orlo, fuck.

Orlo breaks out of whatever had him so horrified and enthralled (likely also the act of satisfying Aunt Elizabeth) to say in desperation, ‘Why does she have to seduce anyone?’

Catherine suddenly might just love Orlo, though not enough to kiss him.

Marial hmms and nods. ‘That’s true. If you threw yourself at Kirigan right now, with how little you still know of sex, you’d just look utterly desperate.’

‘…as opposed to when I threw myself at Orlo?’

‘Orlo knows nothing of sex and was far more frightened of you than you were of him. The General, now, would either be amused or despise you, and we’d go right back to “being weak in his eyes for eternity”.’

‘Well.’ Her voice cracks, shit. Catherine swallows and tries again. ‘Well, first I must meet with him, and then I can decide if it is a route I will take. In due course.’

‘No, first you must decide on how to win back the approval of the ladies. Get your court in order before you start courting the armies!’

‘Fine; but, Orlo, I cannot lose sight of the Sun Summoner. I will not let Peter take the credit for her!’

‘I know, I know. We can plan for that, we’ll start right now, she’s not going to arrive for at least a few days yet. Where’s the paper?’

‘And there is this.’ Marial goes to tidy up the breakfast tray and clear the table for plotting purposes. ‘Kirigan’s going to hate sharing his big find with Peter and the Apparat. You’ll look like a saint incarnate when the Emperor starts screaming and throwing a tantrum.’

‘Indeed. Praise saints for once that I’m married to a fucking moron.’

(Next Chapter)

#shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone #the great #the great fic #catherine the great #count orlo #marial #the great hulu #hulu the great #cw language #fic: all is bliss #alina and Kirigan will be in the next one

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pawsitivelymiraculous · 4 years

Text

Damian, the baby assassin, Dupain-Cheng (Part 5)

Hellooo everyone! I'm... somewhat alive. I'm so sorry this took so long to update. Welp, I can't believe that this is the end of the first arc. Thank you guys so much for your support.I wouldn't have been able to get this far without all of you. I´m so excited for whats to come. Also Tysm @beautiful-disasters-sunshine for beta reading this!

<<Previous Next>>

Ao3 Masterlist

So, recap

Marinette kidnapped/adopted Damian after seeing him with Talia in the Miraculous Café. She gives him the choice between staying with her or a non assassin relative. He chooses to stay in hopes of stealing the miracle box, but since that didn’t work he lashed out and tried to kill Marinette and her friends repeatedly. This makes Marinette doubt in herself because she feels guilty about the whole situation. After hearing Marinette cry, Damian runs away confused at the whole situation, but he didn't get far before realizing that he was actually okay with the idea of Marinette becoming his mother. Marinette finds him and they go home.

After that, Damian began to feel more comfortable around Marinette.

Their dynamic changed. No longer was Damian desperately trying to escape, and now that the walls he had built had almost completely crumbled Marinette began to learn more about the boy she considered her son.

For example, she learned that he liked art.

The moment she found out she ran to her favorite craft store and bought all sorts of things ranging from paints and canvases to a couple of sketch books and a variety of pencils.

Damian, of course, tried to tell her how unnecessary it was.

But Marinette ignored him.

She cleared a corner of her studio where she kept all of her sewing machines and the commissions she was working on, and set up the new supplies.

The two could be found on most afternoons peacefully sketching and painting in that room while munching on the leftover pastries from the café.

Another regular activity was to go out to various places to get inspiration for said projects. Whether it was an outdoors market, or a quaint town bordering Paris, Marinette loved to show Damian all her favorite places to visit whenever she needed inspiration.

She loved to see how his brow furrowed in concentration as he sketched. How he used his natural ability to pick up on little details and used it to make beautiful pieces of art.

And of course being the proud mom she was, Marinette hung up all the paintings all around the house, despite Damian's protests. She even taped some of his sketches on her side of the "Creative Room", as Marinette liked to call it, to use as inspiration for her designs.

Damian also continued to go to school. It took a lot of macarons and begging to let the principal of the school allow Damian to go back, and it only happened once they agreed to a reasonable punishment.

Marinette was rather relieved at how difficult it had been to convince them.

It was reassuring to know that the faculty in the school she chose was willing to address the issue instead of turning a blind eye to someone with enough money like they had done when she had been in school.

Also, there was a new addition to the family.

Since seeing Damian look at a flyer of the animal shelter with interest, Marinette suspected that he liked animals more than he was willing to admit.

This was confirmed when she arrived home and found Damian trying to lure a dog out from under his bed.

Marinette obviously allowed Damian to keep the dog and almost burst into tears when for the first time, Damian called her "mom"

Together, they managed to get the dog to come out from where he had been hiding. The poor thing looked so frightened, and kept shying away when they got too close.

Marinette sang a soft lullaby that her mother had taught her hoping that it would help the dog calm down, and it did.

Hesitantly, he walked closer to Damian and eventually let him pet him.

"You're a little survivor aren't you?" Marinette whispered. Looking at the dog who was now falling asleep in Damian's gentle embrace.

A small smile graced Damian's face. "Naji. We must name him Naji" He murmured, taking Marinette by surprise. "It means 'survivor' in arabic. Naji has experienced a lot of difficulties, but yet he survived them all and he has now found his home." He explained.

Marinette didn't think he was only referring to the dog.

~♡~♡~♡~

Marinette paced nervously around the living room as she waited for it to be time to pick Damian up from school.

The reason she was so nervous was because she was hoping to ask Damian if he was okay with being adopted by her.

She had to pull some strings but after waiting for a long time she had finally gotten the permission she needed to legally adopt Damian.

The only question was if he was going to accept.

Naji walked over to her and laid at her feet making Marinette stop dead in her tracks.

Despite being skittish around them, Naji had an uncanny ability to know when either Damian or Marinette was upset. He would usually try to sit near them and eventually he would allow one of them to pet him gently.

It was adorable if Marinette did say so herself.

Naturally, Marinette sat on the ground and patiently waited for Naji to approach her. Meanwhile, she closed her eyes and made herself relax.

It was all going to be okay. If Damian didn't like the idea then that would be fine. It wouldn't change her love for him and hopefully the proposal wouldn't make him draw back to himself.

Naji sat on her lap as she continued to calm herself down.

Finally, Marinette glanced at her watch and saw that it was time to pick Damian up. Giving Naji one final pat, she stood up and got her keys.

The pep talk she had just given herself had become a sort of mantra for her.

When Marinette arrived at Damian's school, she noticed that Damian was with another kid his age. Damian looked somewhat bored as the boy talked.

Nonetheless, Marinette could only feel pride as Damian continued to listen to the boy.

Taking notice of her, Damian excused himself and walked to the car.

"So, I see you made a new friend." Marinette said after exchanging greetings. She was unable to keep a teasing tone out of her voice.

Damian frowned, "I was merely tolerating his presence. I would hardly call that a friendship."

"Yeah, sure. Keep telling that to yourself honey." Marinette replied with a grin. "Anyways, how was school today?"

Marinette listened to him as he told her what he had done throughout the day. When he was done Damian noticed that they were going the wrong way. He told her as much.

"Your right mon petit oiseau" Marinette sighed as she pulled over. "Damian, I have something important to talk to you about."

Damian looked at her, a hint of worry seeped into his eyes. "Is there something wrong, Maman?"

Marinette's heart swelled at the name, it gave her the confidence she needed for what she was going to say next.

"Damian, I love you as my own son. That- that's what you are to me… my son." Damian's concern grew as tears started to roll down Marinette's cheeks. "And I don't care for technicalities or anything," she continued, grabbing Damian's hands between her own. "But… I would like to legally adopt you."

~♡~♡~♡~

Damian could only stare at Marinette in shock.

Being legally adopted by her was something he had never actually considered. He knew how complicated that would be, but if she was asking then… maybe it was possible?

He thought about what it would mean. Perhaps he could change his last name and leave behind his grandfather's legacy behind for once and for all.

Damian didn't think he would ever be able to escape the league. For most of his life he didn't even want to. But Marinette had cared for him more than his own family had.

It would be incredibly stupid not to accept. So with that in mind, Damian made up his mind.

"I… I am not opposed to this idea Maman." Relief flooded Marinette's features "Though I must ask how you managed to make it possible?"

Marinette choked out a small laugh. "Let's just say I'm very persuasive and I have friends in high places."

Yeah, that made sense.

Their time in the courthouse passed by in a blur. When they walked out Damian felt... lighter. Like a weight had been lifted off from his shoulders.

This was his new beginning. Damian felt relieved because he had no doubt that with Marinette's guidance he would be able to right the wrongs he had committed.

He no longer had to fend for his own because someone was going to be there for him. To protect him.

To love him.

And for the first time in his life Damian felt safe.

Past Damian would probably be ashamed of that, but now? Now only felt joy.

Because he was no longer Damian Al-ghul.

He was Damian Dupain-Cheng.

~♡~♡~♡~ TAG LIST ~♡~♡~♡~

@elmokingkong @anjuschiffer, @ii-fox-demon, @justcourttee, @tazanna-blythe, @lozzybowe, @idontfuking, @wannajointhecrabcult, @bakergirl13, @rosalineandrosemary, @art-is-hard-to-do-sorry, @our-preciousss, @consumeconstantly, @jiso-lee, @allthegooddaimenettenamesaregone, @justcourteesuportline, @finallyaniguana, @user00000003, @whydoexamsexist, @justafanwarrior, @violetfandomaddict, @smolplantmum, @fidget-eep, @cadenceh2o, @justarandomtumblerblog, @tomanyfandomsonmymind, @emmathedestroyer, @emotionalsupportginger, @insane-fangirl-of-everything.

#maribat #mlb x dc #ml x dc #mominette #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous ladybug #my trash writing

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and-there-were-words · 3 years

Text

A Spider Life: Slow days (Chapter 05)

I first wanted to write something out of the Spider Queen’s POV, but struggled to keep it within the narrative I am going for at the moment. I will write something for her after what’s show-canon though. A slow one with some more HCs, but I hope you still enjoy this chapter!

Also “Ask questions” had been enabled, I did not notice they weren’t before /o/

---

Taking place some time before “Minor scale”.

After the last two, rather smooth successes of gathering the artifacts, things had turned… slow. With everyone doing their best to busy themselves, Syntax makes some (for him at least) interesting observations. (Wordcount: around 2150)

---

With the mirror in their possession, the little lady had grown silent while working on the furnace. Aside from that whisper business of course, that had been a constant the last few days. And while nobody wanted to admit it out loud, it put everyone on the edge. Even the Queen.

However, nothing would stop Syntax from working on his spiderbots, even trying to improve the additional arms on his back. Not the easiest thing to do when you don’t have eyes on the back of your head, but making sure they just won’t snap in the heat of a moment felt rather crucial. The additional weight to this upgrade wasn’t exactly a worry to him at all, in the end he wasn’t one of the brawler types.

Something in the air changed, making him halt for a second.

“Yes Huntsman, how can I help you?”, he spoke without needing to look up. The other spider made a frustrated noise at being detected, he had been just mere inches away to give the scientist a poke. With an annoyed huff he turned around to stomp back to Goliath. Syntax would be lying to say if the other's frustration didn't plug on a string of satisfaction. This sort of interactions had been going on for a while now.

Leaning back, just to give his spine a proper stretch, the scientist couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud of himself. Just the progress he had made the last few days was satisfying, and not only the ones on his machines – but himself too. Huntsman had taken a sadistic joy in startling him whenever he could, and he was infuriatingly good at it. Though, Syntax started to pick up on the faint noises the hunter made when stepping on stone, the shuffling of clothes. Eventually he could catch him prior to a scare.

Which only goaded Huntsman to try even harder, becoming more and more silent and careful in his steps. Syntax had taken recordings to measure the changes of skill level (and for his own sanity) – by now, the hunting spider was so silent that even his gadgets could barely pick up the sounds anymore. Certainly a skill Huntsman had all along, but finally seemed to shake off the initial rust after his involuntary slumber. With the knowledge that he wouldn’t be able to catch him on that anymore, the scientist tried to focus on other giveaways.

What had started as an obvious attempt on grilling his nerves, developed into a near playful banter. Just the wordless back and forth to get the other to try harder. In an odd way, it almost felt like Huntsman was training him, but he was careful to keep that thought to himself. Syntax knew better than to read too much into the hunter's actions, as chaotic as they were.

Nonetheless, the scientist found himself trying to imitate the hunter now and then. Since the guy was going on about smelling all kind of stuff, he gave it a try himself. At first not picking up much more than the damp air in the cave, the metal of the machines. It took him a while to find stronger differences, trying to casually walk past Goliath and the Queen. He found it rather surprising that they didn't seem to do much to hide their presence, but maybe it was simply the comfort of the cave that allowed them to do so.

Picking up on Huntsman was an entirely different beast. The man always seemingly on guard, always ready to appear and disappear. However with time, the scientist managed to actually pick up on Huntsman’s scent, as faint as it was. Kind of earthy, a little bit mildewed, and Syntax could swear there was the ever lingering hint of fresh blood. Did this guy ever wash that pelt of his?

Of course, he would never claim that his own sense of scent was as powerful as the hunter’s, but it was enough to know who was currently around the cave. The little lady didn't seem to have any telltales like these, which usually would've raised red flags in his mind but… he didn't question it, nobody else did either. Anything else he came in contact with, the scents of the surface… became a mixed blend of too much too quickly. Maybe a task for another time.

Aside from that, scent and hearing weren’t the only senses he had noticed an improvement in! Their lair seemed to have become much less dark, he wasn’t as dependable on his goggles as he used to be anymore. What before had looked like chunky and random bits of webbing, now unveiled themselves as carefully crafted pieces with intriguing patterns, with uses he was still starting to understand. Goliath did his best to explain them in more 'common' terms, and it was always a pleasant surprise to see how excited the large spider became to share his knowledge. The more time Syntax spent within the Silk Web Cave, the more beautiful this place became to him. A pride welling up that he lived here.

However their hideout wasn’t the only thing that was much more layered than he previously thought. Turning around in his seat, he watched the other two henchmen going about their day. Currently sticking their heads together over something he couldn't see from his position. Still, he watched them a little, while he was sorting further observations in his mind.

...to no one’s surprise, when he wasn’t within the lair, Huntsman was hunting. Or at least, somewhere outside doing who knows what for days on end. Yet always coming back with some good pieces of meat, roots and berries (but mainly meat). The first time Syntax saw the hunter preparing food for dinner, he nearly refused to partake in it. Mostly because he couldn’t imagine his meals to taste anything but bland, or worse, be poisoned. Color him surprised, that stew was better than most dishes the Queen would concoct on a daily basis. Another thought Syntax would take to his grave before speaking it out loud.

When Huntsman wasn’t around for dinner, and everyone else felt too lazy to scavenge for some proper food options, Goliath and he would order takeout. The strong spider clearly intrigued by this concept, always wanting to try something new. Syntax often questioned the sanity of the cityfolk, considering that the delivery people didn’t had much care to come down near a spider den. The food from the surface world had something comforting to the scientist, as cheap and artifical as it sometimes was. Though he was really craving noodle soup as of late and he wasn’t entirely sure why. Syntax let out a little sigh while standing up.

This whole food thing had also shown an interesting side on Goliath. While the Queen and Huntsman didn’t seem to particularly care about human food (the latter even openly showing his distaste for it), the strong spider had taken a deep fascination. Especially sweets and candies seemed to have struck his attention the most. More than once did Syntax catch him just trying some new trendy food or colorful jawbreaker that he got from… who knows where. Goliath didn’t make any of this a secret, however he clearly wasn’t one with a rotten sweet-tooth as he barely finished anything. “For science.”, he once said with a wink and didn’t elaborate any further. Okay then.

“What are you two doing?”, Syntax casually asked as he wandered closer to the two. The strong spider looked up in confusion for a second before giving the younger man a smirk, “Secrets”. The scientist blinked owlishly, circling around them to look over the smaller spider’s shoulder. There were parchments of leather, deer if Syntax would have to guess, with Huntsman trying to draw squares and circles. Large black smudges here and there told the story of many previous attempts, letting the edges of the material look almost black by now.

"Get away from me.", the kneeling spider hissed, Syntax complying with an annoyed eye roll. Looking back at the larger man in an unspoken question. "We want to make a new robe for the Queen.", the giant almost beamed with excitement. Only for the big smile to water down in mild disappointment, "Buddy ain't good at designing though."

"If you wouldn't be just so damn picky!", Huntsman shot back, smudging away his latest attempt. "Just let me do what I do best, I know what I am d-"

"No!", Syntax flinched a little in surprise. It wasn't exactly an usual thing for Goliath to argue, or to even interrupt someone. "I want this to be special and you just can't get the patterns right! For the Queen's sake, just follow a plan for once!"

The scientist had to raise a brow. This was the first time he ever saw the two of them actually butting heads and… he had to admit, it was a little bit refreshing. Letting his eyes wander to some other pieces of leather, recognizing the sketches as copies from the patterns all over the cave. This one was a sigil of warding, as he had learned the other day, and a few were the Queen's own emblem. In case some other spider demon decided to come here, they would immediately know who's domain they dared to enter. The rest of those, he had not gotten an explanation yet.

"If I may.", mechanical arms shoved Huntsman unceremoniously to the side. Crouching down to pick up one of the charcoal, he started to draw. He was no expert on how to draw people by any means, but it certainly resembled the queen more than any of Huntsman's attempts. With careful strokes, he designed a fairly simple cut, working in the patterns on how he would think would look good on the Queen. It didn't pass him that the other two were watching with bated breath.

Once done, the scientist sat back on his heels, giving his creation a proper look. Not too shabby, if he may say so himself.

"Oh this is really good, Syntax!", Goliath cheered, looking like he wanted to touch the sketch but didn't dare to. On the other end of the emotional spectrum, Huntsman almost looked like he was about to explode.

"The fuck is your problem.", the elder hissed in dreadful silence, whole body tense and twitching. "What do you think you are!", he now became louder but Syntax did his best to just give him a neutral expression and not to budge. Which may not have been the best idea, as it only agitated the other further. The hunter was now standing, looming over him. "You really think you can just come in here and do whatever?! Think you can just be part of this??"

Large and sharp spider legs lashed out, in reflex Syntax let out a startled cry and raised his arms in an attempt of protection. But the pain didn't come. They hadn't aimed at him, instead… having shred the parchment with the sketches to bits. "I REFUSE TO WEAVE THIS."

Like an angry lion, the hunter had bared his fangs in a snarl. For a moment, Syntax was still prepared to be hit by the other, but the hunter suddenly turned around and just. Left. Goliath looked torn between the two men, mouthing a silent "Sorry" before hurrying after his friend.

A breath he didn't know he was holding, escaped his lungs. Syntax crumbled a bit to the floor, bitter thoughts flooding in. Just when he thought things were doing okay. Of course he had to step right into a sensitive nerve for the older spider. Heavy clicking pulled him out of his thoughts, but he couldn't care at the moment to look presentable before the Queen.

Spider Queen looked between the tired scientist and shredded pieces of leather, no apparent expression showing. But of course there was a glint of recognition in her eyes. "Why y'all causing such a ruckus?" Syntax sighed silently, giving a brief summary of the recent events.

The silence that followed was uncomfortable, the scientist not entirely sure how his Queen would react. To his surprise, she let out a little tired sigh. "Weaving is something quite personal to us. Especially if we do it for someone else.", she explained without really looking back at him. Instead giving the destroyed sketches another glance. "Just pretend this never happened. He'll get over it." With that, she simply left.

Syntax pulled his lips into a frown. Just ignore this all? If Huntsman got over it or not, it did not matter. His fists clenched a little, looking at the floor, choking and holding back bitter tears he could feel burning in hte back of his eyes. Syntax was more upset that he apparently wasn't allowed to be an actual part of this clan, no matter how hard he tried.

#spider queen just ignoring problems?#more likely than you think #lego monkie kid #lmk syntax #lmk huntsman #lmk goliath #lmk spider queen

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thanks-captain-obvious · 4 years

Text

So here is the continuation of my Daminette hc since it seems that no one really like to stop me.

No. The Batfam did not abandon Marinette suddenly because of seemingly questionable reaction to fear toxin. But more on that later.

So as I was saying, Robin is acting really weird during patrol and the Batfam couldn't help but notice.

But who could blame him when it really bothers him? Marinette seems so always cool and collected. Always moving with grace and with purpose.

But that Marinette that he saw? The Marinette who cries in her sleep. That is not the Marinette he knew. And it bothers him.

He chalked it up to a reluctant sibling feeling on his side and dare he say it, he's already warming up to Marinette.

Marinette just seems—invicible. Just like his mother.

Cool. Calm. Collected.

How wrong he was

Why would she cry?

Anyway, Batfam decided its Dicky bird that will talk to Damian by the end of patrol because nothing has bothered their youngest this much since Talia.

But Robin easily evaded Dick's concern by saying he's tired.

So now, the Batfam has two dillemas. Namely— Damian and Marinette.

Anyway, Damian decided to watch Marinette closely the next day.

Marinette is her usual, sunny self. Smiling kindly at everyone, bonding with Alfred in the kitchen, playing UMS with Tim or just watching Jason lift weights in the gym.

It may seem like a dickish move but Damian deliberately spilled coffee on Marinette's sketches just to rile up Marinette.

Jason is so ready to shoot him right then and there. After all, it was only recently that Marinette started designing clothes again.

And it may be worth it after all. Because Damian saw it.

For a split second, Marinette's eyes had misted over it like she is about to cry. In fact, if Damian isn't watching really, really close, he would miss it.

It quickly change over into something unreadable before her eyes settles into those calm sapphires once again.

And so for the next few days, Damian will try to provoke Marinette over and over again.

To no avail.

Meanwhile, Dick tried to talk him again. Of course, he dismissed the concern easily by saying he got it handled.

Anyway, Bruce will finally had enough of Damian's obvious attempts at provoking Marinette so he will talk to his son about it.

But before he could let a word out, Tim will rush into the study and blurt out two words that will instantly make both of them pale.

She knows

During dinner with Cass and Steph in the Manor(they wanted to meet their new sister), the Bats will address the elephant in the room.

Marinette will then explain how she find it odd that Bruce offered to adopt her just after she mentioned to Batman that she is an orphan.

She then will tell them all about herself (minus being Ladybug) and say that she will kept all their secrets and there is no need to worry.

Marinette will also explain how she deleted her data on the internet and steal all her school records in Paris before burning them off.

She explained when she went to Gotham, she wanted to start over.

Tim is impressed with all that of course. But one question remains, how are you immune to fear toxin?

Which Marinette answered happily and she narrated all about Hawkmoth and his reign. Living under Hawkmoth had enabled her to control her emotions not just on surface level.

Bruce expressed his concerns if she had been akumatized.

Marinette smiled graciously and said no and kept it at that.

Batfam is appaled to learn that something of this magnitude happened to Paris under their noses without anyone noticing.

Alfeed then stepped in and expressed that Marinette needs her rest now.

But in the midst of all that, something still nags at Damian.

Why come to Gotham? Another city full of terror.

The answer came to him when Damian got hostaged by the Joker.

She is Ladybug, the hero that once protected Paris.

He realized this when Marinette easily managed to save him single-handedly through some convoluted plan.

Ladybug's trademark and way of defeating akuma, if what Tim had managed to unearth about Ladybug is true.

And while he may not have Tim's genius mind, Damian is not the son of the greatest detective for nothing.

Of course he managed to put two and two together.

So Damian confronted Marinette about it much later.

It was then that Marinette completely opened herself up.

And to him nonetheless!

Marinette told him how she got her Miraculous— the thing that gives her powers, about her partner, about Hawkmoth, about everything that lead up to the confrontation against Hawkmoth and how she is too late to save her parents.

And how, every single day, she tortures herself of what could have been.

And so she explained that the fear toxin did not much do anything to her because she is, in fact, already living in her nightmare every single day— her parents dying because she had been too careless.

No matter how much Damian tried to tell her its not her fault, to Marinette, everything had been her fault.

After that conversation, Damian and Marinette had been closer.

Everybody in the Manor noticed of course. Damian and Marinette would spend hours alone sketching and walking around Gotham. Or just plain talking.

Damian would also sometimes spar with Marinette to train her knowing that she defeated a supervillain before without any semblance of training, what more if she had mentor who actually teach her how to fight?

Dick, as usual, had been the first one to confront Damian about the pair's newfound closeness. But Damian just rolled his eyes and say that he realized that she is more tolerable than any of you combined.

Then, Bruce, Tim, Jason, Steph.

It was only Cass that actually managed to get something out of Damian.

"She is so much more than meets the eye." He said.

After that, the Batfam contentedly accept the situation, even if the obvious inside jokes are a bit unnerving, to say the least.

I mean, Damian is smiling and joking around with her.

And where even the nickname "Little Lady" had come from?

Everything is sunshine and rainbows until Marinette received a call one day. A call from one Adrien Agreste.

Damian recognized the name and immediately rushed out to defend Marinette. Adrien Agreste, Gabriel Agreste's son.

He is so sure that Adrien is here to take revenge on Marinette for his father.

Only to be surprised by Marinette's squeal of excitement upon seeing the blonde.

Marinette rushed out to the bottom of the stairs and into Adrien Agreste's arms.

For some reason, seeing Marinette hugging Adrien tightly made him want to kill the bastard more.

Cass saw Damian's reaction and squinted her eyes at his brother.

Anyway, their hug is interrupted by Damian clearing his throat.

When Marinette looked at him, she gave him a sheepish smile and a look that says "Later"

Everyone welcomed Adrien and offered to have him stay for a week after Marinette said that he is a dear friend from Paris. Adrien easily agreed and the two went off with Alfred to sort out the room Adrien will stay in.

Meanwhile, Tim saw Damian's dirty look at the blonde and his tight grip at his cutlery. Cass caught his eyes and mentally confirmed what he just saw.

Cass gave a subtle nod at that.

Smirking, Tim took a gulp from his coffee.

For a few days, Marinette will tour Adrien around the City while Damian will sulk at his room. Whenever Marinette and Adrien is around, Damian will always snap irritably at the two of them. This will result at Bruce scolding Damian.

Damian, being the brat that he is, will leave the table.

Marinette will confront Damian one night and explained that Adrien is Chat Noir and a dear friend of her and for Damian to act nice around him.

Damian will say he already knows by seeing how the blonde is being as bratty as his superhero namesake.

Marinette slapped him before promptly leaving the room.

On the other hand, Marinette and Adrien will finally have the Talk.

Adrien will reveal that he is in the process of being adopted by Amelia and Marinette will likewise admit that Bruce is in the process of adopting her.

Adrien will then give her a chuckle and say: I don't know about that, Bugaboo. One of your "brothers" seems like he will be against the idea.

When Marinette demanded what he meant, he simply gave her a wide chesire grin.

And there it is! Another one of my cringe-worthy Daminette hc. Let me know if you want me to stop or you are so bored you have nothing to read anymore aside my cringy Daminette ideas.

Part 1 • Here • Part 3

Taglist:

@loysydark @eliza-bich @ilovefluffbutsmutisalsogreat @iwritelikeimrunningoutoftime @goblinwhoships @amayakans

@pawsitivelymiraculous @i-am-ironic @emilytopaz

Edit: added the links.

#daminette fanart #daminette headcanon #daminette sort of fanfic #daminette #maribat #mlb x dc

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yolkyeomie · 4 years

Text

Trade Off of Gifts | Bang Chan

summary — no one knows the world of an artists as well as you do, at least that’s what you thought until he decided to show up one day

word count — 1.7k words

pairing — chan x gender neutral!reader

genre — fluff, artist!reader with a tiny hint of musician!chan (even tho he’s already a musician???)

disclaimer — just something tiny for all your fast and short topher needs !!

Being someone who is artistically gifted has its perks, leaving you to be more creatively thoughtful than most of the people around you.

The world and its people was one big incomplete painting to you, splashes of colors being splattered into its surface as you began to maneuver through it. You were the artist who determined what colors were allowed to stay and what colors no longer fit the narrative you were trying to create. It was a tiresome and even lonely job when you had to pick up a brush and bring a new color into your final masterpiece, but it was a rather exciting process nonetheless.

Different colors meant different things and different shades indicated different tones. Sometimes they’d change meanings and sometimes they’d stay the same, it always depended on how you felt that day. You could never explain exactly what everything meant to you, thinking of it as some innate feelings you were born with.

You never bothered trying to help outsiders comprehend what you meant either, as it was easier to keep it to yourself instead of giving your thoughts and feelings for the world to see.

But then somehow, you were stumbled upon by someone who shared the same views as you. Someone who saw the world in a rather similar artistic and dreamy light as you did, and they weren’t even an artist who puts pen to paper.

“That’s a nice drawing,” the stranger told you, hovering over your shoulder like a hawk to its prey. You scrambled to your feet almost immediately, pressing your art to your chest in a defensive manner. You didn’t like it when people hovered over you while you were drawing, entranced in this magical world of fantasy and possibility when you doodled on whatever surface you.

Usually, people would interrupt you when you weren’t finished, commenting on how odd everything seemed and how empty your art looked.

But then it clicked in your head, the stranger didn’t make any sort of ignorant comment on it. He simply said it was nice.

“Thank you,” you managed to say, your eyes darting down to the sketch you had created.

It wasn’t anything special, a half-done headshot of one of your friends from memory. It didn’t really look like any of your friends at the time either, there wasn’t enough detail on the features for it to be recognizable of who it was. “I mean, it’s not really done or anything so it’s not the best I’ve ever created but—“

“Really?” He questioned, his eyes widening to show off the little twinkling stars in his eyes and his mouth gaping open at your response. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his expression, nodding your head as an answer. “You’re a really good artist, you know that? Not many of my friends can even pick up a pencil if we really wanted to, but I guess that’s not really a compliment. Is portraits the only thing you draw?”

You lifted an eyebrow as he spoke, cautiously eying him and the choice of his words. He definitely wasn’t new to the whole artist thing, there was no way he was that knowledgeable on what artists liked to hear and what they didn’t like to hear and wasn’t an artist himself.

He even called you an artist instead of a “drawer”! If that wasn’t a dead giveaway of the fact that you were in the presence of an artistically gifted person then you don’t know what was.

“Not always,” you answered him, shrugging your shoulders as you tried to come up with a decent answer. “It really depends on my mood, but I like drawing portraits of people more than anything. It gives me an excuse to look at others without seeming… creepy? You know?”

“Oh…,” he nodded, a smile donning his face as he looked up at you. “So you’re a people watcher?”

“Not exactly,” you corrected him, “I just enjoy looking at people’s faces. You know, to catch every little detail that makes them unique to themselves. Everyone’s got something about them that’s different from everyone else and drawing lets me capture their uniqueness in a form that can be treasured forever.”

“That just sounds like an over-exaggeration of people watching,” the boy insisted, a laugh escaping his lips when he caught your frustrated glare digging daggers into his skull. “I’m kidding I promise! I completely understand what you mean. So who were you drawing just now then?”

Your expression immediately falls into a grimace, hesitantly peering towards your unfinished work to your friend. “Ah… this?” You ask him, trying to stall time from explaining your latest creation to him.

Through when you looked up to the boy he only nodded at your question and gave you the brightest smile he could. “It’s… it’s a drawing of a friend. He didn’t ask me to make this or anything, but I was just using him to practice faces.”

“You’re only practicing?” the boy gasped, scooting closer to you to steal another peek of your sketch from before. “That’s crazy, I would have thought you were working on an actual project and trying to get to the final piece!”

“You flatter me too much,” you joked, giving your sketch a half-smile. You appreciated the compliments he was showering you with, but there was no way you were actually living up to those expectations in your head. Being artistically gifted had its perks yet also had its more major downfalls: creating unattainable standards for yourself that you constantly set yourself up for failure was one of them. “I still have a long way to go before I can get anywhere near where I want to be.”

“I think where you are now is a great place, you should help yourself to the compliments when you get them. You deserve them,” he commented, a wide grin stretching across his face. Watching his lips turn into a smile made you so do the same, the atmosphere around him too addicting to go to waste. “Plus, I can tell you like it when people praise you.”

“Shut up, you ruined the moment,” you hissed, jumping to your feet to shove him out of your range of sight. The boy giggled at your reaction as he forced himself to stay put, not moving a singular inch no matter how hard you pushed him. “Leave! I don’t want you around me anymore, you ruined the moment!”

The boy thought about your words for a moment, as if he was trying to determine whether or not he wanted to leave you alone. “How about this,” he offered, spinning on his heel to face you. It caught you off guard for a moment, stumbling back on your feet as he shined that same smile from earlier on to you. “I’ll leave you alone now, but you have to let me come back and talk to you about your art more.”

You snorted, “I don’t even know you, why would I do that?”

He nodded in understanding, considering your comment before holding his hand out for you to shake. “Okay then, hi! I’m Bang Chan and I want you to let me come back another day and talk to you about your art. Does this make up for the lack of acquaintanceship?”

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you humor him, shaking his hand before sliding out a slightly impolite question from your lips, “Is Bang Chan asking to hang around me because he wants me to give him a free drawing? If so I’m sorry but I’m not confident enough in my skills to even make you anything if I wanted to. There’s a reason I’m practicing here you know.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he clarified, slumping back onto the ground and laying back with a content smile. “I don’t want free art, I just want to hear you talk about your art. Maybe people watch with you from time to time.”

“I’m not a people watcher.”

“Sorry,” Chan nodded, “maybe not-people-watch with you then.”

You went silent for a moment, looking down at the sketch in your hands and glancing back towards the boy. “So that’s all? You just want to… hang out with me while I draw? No strings attached? You’re not going to ask me to draw you for free in the future or make fun of my unfinished work at all?”

He nodded in response and pointed a finger at your head. “The mind of an artist is a very interesting place to explore because not every artist has the same thought process when it comes to their creations. I want to see how we differ from each other.”

“So you’re an artist as well?” You question, your eyes widening as you slowly began to realize what he had said.

“Wouldn’t exactly say an artist,” Chan laughed, downplaying his statement as much as possible. “More of a… musician? I guess? I make songs, but that’s nothing compared to being someone who puts a pencil to paper.”

So your hunch was correct, Chan was artistically gifted! Of course, it wasn’t exactly in the way you had thought before but the mere fact that he was like you made much more sense now. “A musician is still an artist,” you tell him, “just because you’re not creating art in that sense doesn’t mean you aren’t an artist. Art comes in many different forms you know, you can’t limit it to one medium.”

“Well my form of art isn’t very… how do I say this, it isn’t—“

“—You’re embarrassed.” You finished. As expected the boy came up with as many excuses as possible, trying to drill the false act into your head but utterly failing. All you could do was laugh as you spoke, “don’t worry! It’s normal to be closed off about the things you create, I’m embarrassed to show off my art to people all of the time.”

Chan nodded, nervously fidgeting with his hair as he tried to play off his flustered actions. “I guess that’s one thing we have in common right?”

“Make that two things,” you corrected him. He turned to you with a confused glint in his eyes as you held up two fingers and grinned at him as you explained, “we’re both artists and we’re embarrassed to show people our creations. Oh the woes of being artistically gifted, am I right?”

He nodded in agreement, a cheeky smile appearing on his face once again as he repeated, “oh the woes of being artistically gifted.”

#stayhavennet #kpop imagines #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #kpop au #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids chan #skz imagines #skz fluff #skz chan #skz #bang chan imagines #bang chan #chan x reader #bang chan x reader

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damedamedame · 4 years

Text

akane aoi + reader | say what ?

| description ! | your current relationship with akane gets a little out of hand (which may or may not be good?) (yes, there’s a question mark).

prev | next

You flip to a page, one to a theory about a mysterious creature who could control the time around the halls of Kamome Gakuen by their own hands and by their own choice. There’s even a sketch of what it could be... and it looked nothing like the boy standing in front of you now. Your finger points to a space, wordlessly wanting him to sign it if your pleading face was anything to go by.

Akane stares at you blankly, then to the picture book in your hands. The expression on his face screams confusion because of your actions but you were insistent.

Being an enthusiast for all sorts of supernaturals and apparitions that had crossed your path (which may or may not have led to various dangerous incidents), you stood your ground as firmly as you possibly could.

Even if you wanted to melt at the sight of this new Akane Aoi.

Fuck it, you probably already melted when he saved you mere minutes ago.

Sucking in a deep breath, you continued to ask another question, briefly ignoring the fact that Akane didn’t bother to sign. Maybe he had no pen?? What kind of apparition has a pen in his pocket?? Wait would they--

“C-Can you help me investigate more s-supernaturals?”

‘OH NO.’ You looked at the ground as if it was the one who was making your cheeks redden to the max. ‘I STUTTERED TOO MUCH DHBFSH--’

“Interesting offer but….” Your head shot up to meet his smile, it didn’t meet his eyes but it made you look like a tomato nonetheless. A shudder goes down your spine at the way he stares right through you. “I don’t think I can handle another second seeing any one of them.”

…?

“W-WHY?? SUPERNATURALS ARE AMAZING CREATURES !!” You cry out, unable to hold back.

“Wha…? What makes you say that?”

There’s a hint of a spark happening between you two, one filled with tension and the start of a very very long argument between the justification of supernaturals.

Not that you intended to speak up and start a fight about it, you had only wanted to bring up a few points. Which he had a rebuttal for every time. Perhaps this is why you liked this smartass, but never did you think that you would be on the opposing side of the debate.

“Aoi-kun, I’m pretty sure not all of them are bad..!”

“You might want to see a certain seventh somewhere--.”

“YOU KNOW THE SEVENTH MYSTERY ???”

Secretly, your foot hurt like actual hell, having been pushed to the ground rather harshly after almost being struck by a truck. But how could you let this chance pass by? You were finally talking to the boy you simped for and you have the chance to meet more supernaturals and apparitions!

Granted, you almost died and you were both arguing about the goodness of supernaturals and apparitions, BUT STILL—!!

“I don’t think he appreciates seeing someone limp into his stall.”

Akane motions over to your foot. The foot that you were trying so desperately to hide but alas, the awkwardness stood out.

“Um… I-I’ll go to the clinic then! After that, you can take me to see Hanako-san…!”

Two steps forward and you were already wobbling. You were determined to get to the clinic without any hesitation if it meant finding out more of these supernaturals that always invaded your mind, if you weren’t already thinking about Akane.

Being the gentleman that he was forced to be by one strict Teru Minamoto, he had, as much as he didn’t want to offer because he was salty, offered you a, “Do you want me to take you to clinic?” which you may have replied with a small nod, the flush on your cheeks rising significantly so.

Significantly so may have been a slight understatement.

Your cheeks—no, your entire face raged with a pink blush once Akane put his hand on yours, telling you to lean on him if your legs hurt too much. The way he held your hand calmly without hesitation made it seem like he experienced this sort of thing before. Or maybe he spent his time eagerly researching this for Aoi’s sake. ‘Okay, yeah, it’s definitely the second one.’ You sink your head low in dismay.

Thankfully, the clinic wasn’t too far off since the incident took place right at the exit of the school. Making quick work into getting to the clinic, also avoiding the people who looked at you two quietly bickering about another something related to your slowly developing debate about supernaturals and all that. Or perhaps they looked at you two and wondered why two simps were spending time with each other. What if they thought you were dating him (finally) and Akane had given up on Aoi--

You scoff, immediately letting the fleeting thought away. Akane raised an eyebrow at your action but you simply looked away, not acknowledging the other thoughts that crowded your mind.

“Can you open the door while—”

“Yeah, I think I can just…”

After a few minutes of trying to open the door leading to the clinic, and failing miserably, your prayers have finally been answered. By a fellow Student Council Member.

“Oh! (L/N)-san!” This girl is… the ‘Secretary’ of the Student Council, if the messy black hair, the dark red ribbon hanging loosely around the back, and the round glasses framing her small face was any indication. “What happened?”

“I tripped and fell on the sidewalk.” You explain, not delving into any of details because even if the guy you just had to like out of everyone else (seriously, why couldn’t you have liked Minamoto-senpai instead? It’d probably be so much easier) had a bunch of hatred for the ones you absolutely adored (and you still didn’t get why he hated all of them instead of merely hating the ones who pushed Aoi), you still didn’t want to cause any trouble for him.

The ‘Secretary’ looks at you two for a bit, a small knowing smirk gracing her lips, which she tried to hide with her hand but failed, and walked away. She also mentioned something about the ‘President’ dropping off some paperwork on his desk. You don’t know why Akane’s expression turned into a disgusted one but you didn’t want to pry on that.

Oh nono, you wanted to pry about something else.

Right after sitting down on the bed after the nurse had told you to do so, you began swinging your legs out of nervousness. And you regretted that a second later because the pain finally settled in. Akane had thrown an ‘are-you-kidding-me?’ look at you and you replied by rolling your eyes into oblivion. Not wanting the silence between you two to thicken (or maybe you should, you were literally on the verge of kicking your crush when he mentioned how annoying your beloved Mokke were), you somehow managed strike up a conversation.

“Say… what happened to that truck a while ago?” Gold star for not stuttering over there, champ.

Akane turns to look at you, lips screwed tight and eyes wide. Had he not noticed it? How his supernatural suit and tie and honestly aesthetically pleasing outfit went away and changed back to his normal uniform? How the truck had crashed into a pole instead of you? Considering the amount of shock graced his features, it’s safe to assume that you were correct. Seriously though, how could he not have noticed?

‘Maybehewasfocusingonyou—SHUT UP’

He’s silent, not willing to admit that he did not, in fact, notice the truck nor his outfit changing. You hear him mumble a few words under his breath, definitely not missing the ‘That bastard might actually kill me this time’ or the ‘If Ao-chan ever finds about this…’ but he stops when the doctor of the school clinic came in.

“So, (L/N)-san, what do we have here this time?” The doctor, Nito-san, asks for the third time this week (or was it the fourth…?). He kind of looked frustrated with you, which you brushed off with an awkward chuckle. You could have sworn you heard Akane stifle a laugh. “Did you fall from the stairs again?”

“Not today, haha…” ‘CNDSJFNDSFOSID’ You fumed, hands clenching into fists. Now you heard Akane actually having to hide his laughter, which resulted in you having to cover your face with your hands.

Oh, why did you have to come in like this Nito-san??? WHY???

As if God Himself heard you, you were blessed when Teru Minamoto poked his head in from outside the room’s door. Funnily enough, he did not have his usual smile and ^^ on his face. He just looked lowkey pissed, which was a first for you and for people inside the clinic.

“Aoi-kun, why don’t we have a chat outside?”

You glanced at Akane in concern, and your choice was right, he should be of concern right now. He looked like a man about to be executed.

“Y-Yeah…”

At this point, you might as well plan his funeral. Yes, Aoi is going to have to give a speech about him or he would haunt the school. ‘Wait isn’t he already haunting the school—’ You thought as Akane was pretty much dragged outside by Teru. ‘Oh, I didn’t get to ask him about Hanako-san!’ You frowned, slapping yourself on the face. Although, you probably shouldn’t be focusing on that as of now, since Nito-san looks... positively furious.

| end notes ! | i’m so sorry for the long wait !! and i’m really sorry if the update wasn’t as good as you’d thought it would be,, not that it was alr good to begin with :’>

taglist: @astrxrism @sparkleswritings @closetweebsmh

#tbhk x reader #toilet bound hanako kun #akane aoi x reader #akane aoi

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dweetwise · 4 years

Text

have a semi-rushed riconti one shot because i couldn’t not write them for valentine’s day 💕

ship: ace x felix warnings: none word count: 4180

The problem with secret admirers

Holidays usually weren't something the survivors had the luxury of celebrating.

The occasional seasonal decorations in trials along with some ridiculous, thematical outfits seemed more like a sign of their Eldritch captor's morbid sense of humor than evidence of the passing of time. But sadly, lacking calendars and all, it was the most accurate estimate they had.

So when the Entity plopped down some fireworks and talismans on the generators to proclaim the Chinese new year, it barely affected any of them.

Yui and Feng seemed more on edge than usual, the decorations crude imitations of the festivities they were used to back home. Adam had told the group about the year of the ox and the Chinese zodiac, the teacher donning a new hoodie he’d received for the occasion.

For Ace, the holiday meant nothing more than looting as many firecrackers as he could manage, along with making questionable “horny” jokes to the few killers that had received ox-themed outfits.

But in the midst of the survivors' celebration or lack thereof, they'd completely forgotten about another well-known February celebration.

When Ace returns from a successful trial and goes to stash yet another firecracker into his generous collection of items, he immediately notices something that doesn't belong.

Inside the trunk, on top of the organized chaos that is his pile of items and add-ons, lies a note.

Curiously unfolding the piece of paper, Ace makes out somewhat messy handwriting on a worn piece of paper.

'Your smile lights up the room'.

“Oh, ha ha, very funny,” Ace says, turning to face the small group of survivors by the campfire.

“Huh? What's up?” Steve perks up, others following suit and turning to watch the spectacle.

“Someone left me a little prank note,” Ace says, rolling his eyes and flicking the slip of paper over his shoulder.

“What?” Claudette says with a frown, immediately reaching for the discarded note.

“What does it say?” Cheryl asks curiously, coming up beside the botanist.

“'Your smile lights up the room,'” Claudette reads.

“Aww, that's adorable!” Kate exclaims. “A Valentine's day card!”

“The joke being that we're continually outdoors,” Ace explains. “Meaning my smile does jack shit.”

“Are you sure? Maybe they meant figuratively,” Claudette gently prods.

“Yes Claudy, I'm sure I'm not getting mystery love notes,” Ace snorts at the incredulous suggestion, before turning back to the others. “Come on, whose idea was it? Fess up!” he demands, looking over the group

When nobody makes a move to come clean, others also looking around in confusion, Ace eventually focuses his stare on Nea, Meg and Feng, the trio of troublemakers sitting together by the fire.

“The hell you looking at me for?” Nea cusses.

“That’s lame as fuck,” Meg agrees.

“I'm tempted to make one now just so you’ll see—” Feng starts.

“That's a great idea! We should all make Valentine's day cards for each other!” Kate suggest, missing the gamer's point entirely.

“Look, there's a drawing too!” Cheryl suddenly exclaims, pointing at the back of the mystery note still in Claudette’s hands.

Ace sighs and leans over to look, fully expecting a doodled caricature of himself or even a crude phallic sketch.

Instead, he finds a pretty good drawing of some sort of flower. It’s not perfect, but it looks like someone clearly put a lot of work into it.

“It's a clover,” Claudette informs, glancing up at Ace with a smile. “No doubt for luck, even if it doesn't have the iconic four leaves.”

“Uh. Maybe,” Ace says, a little taken aback at the information. Someone really went through a lot of effort just for a small prank.

“So? Who's it from?” Steve asks impatiently.

“It still doesn’t say, Steve,” Cheryl sighs in irritation.

“I mean, Jeff and Jane are the artists,” Quentin points out.

“Uh-huh, sure, Jeff would draw a flower card for Ace and not his botanist girlfriend,” Meg snorts, making Claudette duck her head bashfully.

“And Jane—" Steve starts, excitedly turning to the former talk show host.

“No,” Jane interrupts the teen. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, but hell no.”

“No offense taken, sweetheart,” Ace grins good-naturedly, the cheesy flirt making the woman grimace.

“What about Bill?” Nea suggests out of the blue.

“What the hell are you on, kid?” Bill snorts, and even Ace has to bite back a laugh over the thought of the gruff veteran writing love letters.

“Just trying to think of someone in his age range!” Nea protests.

“Well, did anyone see anything?” Quentin asks. “We can’t all have been in a trial when the note was placed.”

“I’ve been in like three trials today,” Feng complains.

“I don’t think any of us really keep track of people at the fire,” Kate says. “Anyone could have walked by and put it there.”

“Aww, so we’re not gonna know who it was?” Steve frowns.

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Jane says.

As the commotion seems to die down, Claudette hands back the note back to Ace.

“You should keep it. It seems you have a secret admirer, after all,” Claudette says, smiling.

“Guess it can’t hurt,” Ace says, reluctantly pocketing the card. He’s still not sure it's genuine, but is intrigued by the sudden turn of events nonetheless.

Surprisingly, it seems the kids aren’t quite ready to give up on finding out the culprit. Some time later, Ace sees Cheryl, Steve and Quentin huddle together by one of the tree stumps, Cheryl looking to be taking notes on a map.

“Did you ask the ones who just got back?” Cheryl asks.

“Yup! Steve says. “Jeff was mostly confused, and David laughed his ass off. Laurie said she hadn't seen anything weird before she got taken to the trial. And Tapp just looked like he'd lost all hope for humanity,” Steve summarizes.

“Sounds about right,” Quentin huffs.

“Okay, so we've ruled out us three, Laurie, Jeff, Claudette, Jane, Bill, Tapp and David,” Cheryl recaps.

“And Nance has Jonathan, and Felix has his girlfriend,” Steve reminds.

“We should definitely rule out Nea too, since she’s way younger than him,” Quentin says. “Meg and Feng too, I guess."

“You're right, they always bully Ace too,” Steve casually remarks.

Ace rolls his eyes behind his shades and keeps shuffling his cards, not understanding why the group is so hell bent on talking about him like he’s not even there.

“Oh, and Yui,” Cheryl says.

“Good point,” Quentin says.

“Huh? Why?” Steve asks, confused.

“She, uh…” Cheryl falters. “Girl talk. I know it's not her.”

“Okay!” Steve beams.

And that pretty much sums up Ace's expectations for their little operation to succeed. If Steve somehow still hasn't figured out that the Japanese woman is solely interested in other women, Ace doesn’t have much trust in his detective work.

“Kate?” Cheryl suggests.

“She’s making Valentine’s cards for all of us as we speak,” Quentin snorts. “I don’t think she’d play favorites.”

“What about Dwight?” Steve suggests.

“Well… it’s definitely awkward and weird enough to fit his MO,” Cheryl considers.

“I thought he was into Jake?” Quentin says.

And that’s about the time Ace tunes out and goes to bug Tapp to play cards with him, hoping the detective will be happy to pretend like this entire thing never happened.

Ace doesn’t know how long it is before he’s finally taken to a trial, but it feels like an eternity. The atmosphere around camp is awkward as people trickle in and out from trials and someone always feels the need to point out he was on the receiving end of an anonymous person’s affection. The reactions, unsurprisingly, range from awkward confusion to straight up laughter.

So when the fog finally surrounds Ace, he actually welcomes it. The familiar sight of the Autohaven gas station is enough to take his mind off the teasing back at camp, at least momentarily.

But another problem presents itself right as he rounds a corner of scrap and finds Élodie on a generator—

“Hey, come here often?” Ace jokes, crouching down next to the machine to get to work.

—And the woman immediately gets up to leave.

“It wasn’t me, so don’t get any ideas,” Élodie scowls in his direction.

“Huh? I didn’t—” Ace tries to explain, but she’s already taking off in a sprint, and Ace thinks he hears her mutter “creep”.

Ace sighs and barely resists the urge to bash his face against the generator in frustration. This day just keeps getting better.

To Ace’s utter delight—that is to say, absolute annoyance—his mystery admirer becomes the biggest source of entertainment for the survivors. He doesn’t mind playing along for the first few jabs at his expense, thinking the others will surely get bored after just a few hours.

They don’t.

Most of the group still seem determined to figure out the person behind the note, others are content to gossip and joke about the possibilities, and some go as far as to blame Ace for intentionally stirring up drama. His not-so-subtle suggestions to let it go are shrugged off, and after a few days, Ace resigns himself to his fate and figures the sooner he lets the whole thing sort itself out, the better.

It doesn’t mean he’s happy about it.

To add insult to injury, even the killers seem to have a sudden hard-on for him, focusing Ace with single-minded determination every chance they get.

It's only a few days later, when the Pig kneels down Ace's prone form to place a trap on his head, that he realizes why.

“There you go, lover boy,” the woman's voice sounds mocking despite being muffled by her mask.

“Wah?” Ace asks, the device attached to his jaw making it hard to speak.

“I heard someone has a little admirer,” the Pig says. “I figured it warrants some special treatment.”

The word is accentuated by throwing Ace up on a hook, and the gambler's following scream is as much from pain as it is from frustration.

When Ace gets back to the campfire after having his head popped by the killer’s trap, he sits down on a log furthest from the group, hoping to get a breather—

“Hey, look who it is!” Ash immediately interrupts his moment of solitude, sitting down uninvited next to Ace. “How you doing, champ?” Ash grins, elbowing him in the side.

“What do you want?” Ace asks, feeling much more irritable than usual because of the constant teasing.

“I mean…” Ash says, before looking around and lowering his voice. “Have you figured out who it is?”

Ace rolls his eyes and resists the urge to slap the man with his own prosthetic hand.

“Come on, you can tell me!” Ash grins in a very suspicious way.

“If I find out, you’ll be the first to know. Trust me,” Ace whispers, lying out of his ass.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Ash laughs, way louder than necessary. “I’m happy for you; at least someone around here will be getting laid!”

Half of the camp erupts into snickers and the other half turns to glare at Ace, notifying him that their conversation was definitely loud enough to overhear.

“Not in front of the children!” Jane sneers, like Ace enjoys having his sex life publicly broadcasted.

“Oh, would you look at that!” Ace quips with fake cheer as fog starts creeping up his legs, thankful for the Entity’s timing even though he barely got back to the campfire. “Time for another trial!”

When the fog clears from around him, Ace is in the killer shack in Red Forest with Cheryl and Felix right beside him.

“I'm gonna go find Zarina,” Cheryl whispers to Ace, informing him of who their last teammate is.

“Sure,” Ace says, knowing it’s good to split up, as Felix has already started repairs on the generator in the shack—

“I need to privately ask her about the note!” Cheryl beams and is sprinting away before Ace can reply.

Which is just as well, because he might have said a few choice words to the kid through his annoyance. Thankfully, he's left with Felix, one of the few people who have treated Ace normally throughout this entire thing.

“Fuck this,” Ace curses, joining the handsome German on the generator. Felix glances up but doesn't ask, and Ace appreciates being given the space to rant. “This is the worst thing that's ever happened!”

“The note?" Felix asks.

“What else? It seems it's all anyone ever talks about!” Ace rages, throwing one of his hands up in frustration and nearly causing the machine to explode. “I swear, this is worse than middle school,” Ace huffs. “I have girls gossiping, kids pestering and killers bullying me. And for what? A shitty piece of paper!”

Damn, it feels good to get this out. Ace doubts Felix cares, but it's nice to get to vent to someone he knows won't make the situation worse.

“Whoever left the note must be an idiot,” Felix comments bluntly, and it gives Ace pause.

Sure, Ace is frustrated, but he's still a little sentimental over the note and cute gesture behind it. Regardless, he shouldn’t be surprised that the no-nonsense architect would find the notion ridiculous.

“I'm just so done with it,” Ace sighs. “At this point, I'd take any explanation. Even an 'oops, wrong trunk, it was never meant for you'. Sure, I like being in the spotlight, but this is getting unbearable.”

Felix doesn't say anything, only keeps working away; probably embarrassed being forced to discuss Ace's (lack of) love life.

“I—” Felix starts after an awkward silence.

“Shit, I'm sorry,” Ace interrupts with a chuckle, not wanting the German to be any more uncomfortable than he already clearly is. “Didn't mean to talk about ear off about this stuff. Let's get this gen done, huh?”

Felix immediately seems relieved, and Ace jumps at the chance to change topics.

“You ever been to China?” Ace asks, nodding at the firework decoration on top of their generator.

As they chat about one of Felix's business trips to Shanghai, Ace is simultaneously glad for a distraction from his Valentine's fiasco and melancholy about their shallow friendship.

Maybe he'd take this whole thing more seriously if there was any possibility it would actually lead to something with the one person he's even remotely interested in. If Ace was in his prime, he'd probably have made a move on Felix months ago, girlfriend and heterosexuality be damned. Young and reckless Ace wouldn't have cared, happily flirting his ass off.

Meanwhile, old and slightly less reckless Ace has to settle for shitty jokes and sneaking glances at Felix.

When the Ghostface finally makes an appearance during their second generator and proceeds to chase and tunnel Ace to death despite the others' best efforts to save him, Ace isn’t even surprised anymore.

“I'm starting to wonder if the note is even legit,” Quentin says one day.

“How come?” Kate asks, cocking her head.

“Don't you think Ace's secret admirer would have come clean by now?" Quentin prods.

“Maybe it was just the Entity messing with us?” Laurie suggests.

“If it was a prank from someone, I’m kinda proud of them for pulling it off,” Nea says. “Especially for this long!”

“I think it’s mean,” Claudette says. “They’ve allowed this to go on for way too long. Just look at poor Ace!”

Everyone turns to collectively look at Ace, who is just trying to play some goddamn solitaire in peace while the rest, again, seem content to talk about him like he’s not even there.

“He looks the same as always,” Meg snorts.

“He’s been tunneled to death the last then trials in a row,” Laurie scolds.

“I’m fine,” Ace insists.

“I think his secret fan is just shy!” Kate continues and sparks another debate, oblivious to Ace’s annoyance.

When Ace gets back from yet another unsuccessful trial and sees a group of gossiping people and a grinning Nea, he groans in exasperation.

Before anyone can bring up Ace’s least favorite subject, Felix butts in.

“Ace,” Felix addresses, coming up beside the group. “Do you have time to teach me that perk you used the other trial? With the longer aura-reading?”

“You want… one of my perks?” Ace asks, surprised.

Felix has always seemed more altruistic than others, and it’s no secret Ace's perks were only used by… Well, Ace.

“Um, yes. If it’s not a bother,” Felix says, discreetly glancing at the group of gossip-hungry survivors waiting to attack Ace’s misery.

And it dawns on Ace that Felix is giving him a distraction to slip away.

“Oh, of course!” Ace grins. “Right this way!”

As soon as they’re out of earshot from the campfire, Ace starts prattling away.

“Thanks for covering for me!” Ace beams. “I thought they’d have gotten bored by now—"

“It was me,” Felix interrupts grimly, making Ace pipe down and turn to look at him.

“Uh… come again?” Ace asks, confused.

“I did it. I wrote the note,” Felix confesses, looking at Ace in determination.

“What? Why?” Ace asks, incredulous. When Felix's bravado falters, he keeps going. “Look, you don't have to cover for whoever it was,” Ace sighs. “I don’t blame you for wanting this entire thing to be over—"

“I'm serious,” Felix says. “I've been lying for way too long. I should have come clean before, but I was too much of a coward.”

Alright, what the actual fuck? Why would Felix, of all people, have sent Ace a love note?

While he’s gaping stupidly, Felix continues:

“Claudette was right, it’s my fault for letting this go on for so long. I’m sorry.”

“But… your girlfriend—” Ace starts, struggling to wrap his head around the whole thing.

“Will hopefully move on once she realizes I'm not coming back,” Felix says. “I've started to accept that I'm not getting out of here.”

“Well, that sounds cheerful,” Ace comments.

“Sheiße, I didn't mean it like that,” Felix winces. “I just… thought I'd do things differently this time. Since I never had the courage to, in my old life.”

“So… where do I come into the picture?” Ace asks, skeptical.

“I…” Felix says, wringing his hands in a nervous gesture. “Wanted to see how you would react to the note. It was stupid.”

“Huh? How come?”

“I caused you nothing but harm,” Felix sighs. “First you thought I was mocking you, then the others kept bothering you, and even the killers were giving you a hard time. I'm sorry, I should never have done it.”

“No, I mean—” Ace flounders for an explanation. Sure, he'd been annoyed, but none of the things that happened were Felix’s fault. “Why give something like that to me?”

“Isn't it obvious?” Felix says, scratching at his neck while averting his eyes. “I admit I haven't celebrated Valentine's day much, but I assumed…” he trails off.

What? Felix was seriously trying to test the waters of… getting together with Ace?

It slowly starts to make sense. Felix’s strange behavior. The messy handwriting on the note, probably from Felix’s nerves. The surprising artistic talent of the sketch, after a lifetime of architectural drawings.

“Well, this is unexpected,” Ace says with a smirk, not able to keep the cockiness from seeping into his voice at the knowledge that Felix, somehow, seems to be interested in him.

“Sorry—”

“I said unexpected, not unwelcome,” Ace interrupts.

And then gets to watch the realization slowly dawn on Felix, the perpetual worried frown on the other’s face smoothing out as his eyes widen in hope.

“You don't mind?” Felix asks.

“Let's just say I'm surprised you haven't caught me looking,” Ace grins. “I never expected someone as handsome as you to return the attention,” he can't resist flirting.

“Ähm, well, I…” Felix flusters from the compliment, looking at the ground. “Am not very good at this.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Ace says.

Then, he reaches into his breast pocket, pulling out the infamous note he’s kept on him this entire time. Felix’s gaze follows his movement as Ace carefully unfolds the paper, crumpled and smudged from having been with him trial after trial.

“I thought you threw it away,” Felix says quietly, eyes wide in awe.

“You don’t just throw away a good luck charm,” Ace chastises playfully, pointedly brushing his thumb over the clover drawing. “Especially not one that’s the nicest thing anyone’s done for me in a long time.”

Ace bites his tongue to stop prevent more mushy sentiments from slipping out. Felix is still staring way too intently and not saying a word, so Ace clears his throat self-consciously tucks the note safely back into his pocket.

“I can’t believe you kept it,” Felix finally says, an adorable smile on his lips as he meets Ace’s eyes.

“Well, seeing as we’ve now established that we’re both sentimental saps…” Ace starts with a smirk, stepping closer to Felix to test the waters. “I have a question.”

“Oh, umh… Yes?” Felix says, straightening his back but still seeming nervous.

It's adorable, and Ace wants to kick himself for not noticing anything sooner. Still, there's no time like the present.

“Be my valentine?” Ace asks with a grin.

Felix's posture instantly relaxes, and the smile is back on his face.

“I'd love to,” Felix says.

Ace’s grin widens until he feels like it’ll be permanently etched onto his face. This is a much better outcome than he ever expected when he found an unassuming note with his items.

“So, ehm…” Felix starts after they’ve been staring at each other for a beat too long, snapping Ace out of it. “Do you… should we…?” Felix falters, nervously brushing a stray lock from his face.

“Wanna find a place to sit down and chat?” Ace suggests, not feeling any need to rush things now that he knows where they stand with each other. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a break from the others.”

“Me too,” Felix says, seeming relieved. “I admit I’m not looking forward to what the others will say about this.”

“Fuck em!” Ace says. “They’ve had their fun, I’m not gonna let them put you through the same shit as they did me. We don’t even have to tell them.”

“No, I want to,” Felix insists. “If I have to hear one more rude joke about you from Feng…” Felix’s mouth pinches into a thin line.

“Aww, babe,” Ace teases, the pet name slipping out before he can stop it. “You don’t have to defend my honor.”

“I do, and I will,” Felix says with surprising determination.

“Well, in that case, I won’t stop you,” Ace grins.

“Good,” Felix says with a smug little smirk.

And the sudden assertiveness makes heat creep up Ace’s neck, quickly starting to regret his suggestion to take things slow.

“I, uh, I think I saw a pretty cozy clearing not far from here,” Ace says, eager to get the chance to get to know more about his companion.

“Lead the way,” Felix agrees.

They end up sitting next to each other under the stars and talking for what has to be hours, but goes by in the blink of an eye. No longer having to filter himself and keep their conversation casual is a much-needed break from the past few days, and the smile never once leaves Ace’s face.

Talking to Felix makes the feelings Ace has tried so hard to ignore come back full force, reminding him of why the man caught his eye in the first place. Sure, Felix is still more attractive than anyone has the right to be, but he’s also insanely smart and surprisingly witty past the initial anxious exterior. The way he smiles and gives his undivided attention even when Ace talks about silly, insignificant things not only makes Ace forget all about his recent frustrations, but also takes his mind away from the strange world surrounding them.

And when Felix eventually scoots even closer and looks at Ace with nothing but fondness in his eyes, Ace has no trouble throwing his initial hesitance out of the window and going in for a kiss.

It’s not earth-shattering or particularly intense, it’s just really, really nice and makes Ace’s heart do stupid leaps in his chest. It’s been so long since he even kissed anyone, and getting to smooch the person he’s been secretly pining over for months and have said person eagerly return the kiss?

“Why the hell haven’t we done this sooner?” Ace voices his thought when he pulls away from the gentle kiss, making Felix huff a quiet laugh into their shared breathing space.

“I should have just signed the note,” Felix says.

“Good thing you can make it up to me now, Valentine,” Ace grins.

Felix chuckles warmly and a callused hand comes up to gently cup Ace’s cheek before tilting his head up into another kiss.

And even though Ace isn’t normally one for holiday celebrations, he’s looking forward to spending many more with Felix by his side.

#riconti #dbd fanfic #ace visconti #felix richter #dweetwrites #dbd #dead by daylight

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