kikihawaiji-blog

[2aceofspades]

It's okay

I got you

[comicaurora]

Hello! I wanted to send my appreciation to you as a longtime fan of OSP and Auroura! I am an English Major with ADHD and your content always makes me inspired and my English Lit. Brain very happy with how good your storytelling is.

My question is what stories inspire you to write or make you want to sit down and tell a story? Your content makes me want to work on my projects, but my Adhd only last as long as I am not disturbed (i.e. need to eat or get up and move). You have always been upfront about your Adhd so my second question is how do you keep focused on your story and not burn out? (Talking as someone who is writing a novel as their thesis)

You have been a great inspiration over the years and someone I look up to as a storyteller! I wish you focus and luck! => 💝

Woo! Interesting questions!

When it comes to inspiration, I haven't really found a pattern for what works and what doesn't. The majority of the time, only new experiences/stories I haven't seen or read before work for me - rewatches and re-reads, while much more comfortable for my brain, don't tend to translate into creative inspiration for me - but it's not like a specific genre, or even a specific kind of relaxation, consistently work for me.

The way my brain works is a bit "no take only throw", as it were. I want to just sit down and make solid, steady progress in a predictable environment with a routine, but what I need is to try new things, go outside, take risks - because all those things give me new material to work with and refill the creative gas tank. When I'm stuck, I can't just hit the gas and punch through the block - I need to back up and try a new angle.

The good part of all this is that whatever engine that's running my subconscious is actually pretty good at signaling what it needs. The ADHD brain will be repelled by activities that aren't working for it and drawn to the things it needs at the time, whether that's creative energy or exercise or cleaning or doodling or listening to music or suddenly binge-watching a show that's not even all that great, and once it's got what it needs out of it - whatever that is - it'll be repelled again, either spitting out a sudden burst of creative energy or retreating to its den to chew on whatever it got out of the experience for a more slow-building reward. Little bursts of motivation and creativity pop up all throughout the day, and if you can pivot to the activity in question - or at least note down the idea you just had - you'll be able to harness that pretty nicely.

This "system" really only works for me because I have an extremely unstructured schedule and nobody relying on me to be consistent moment-to-moment. If I'm following the creative needs of my inscrutable Better Writer In The Back Of My Head, I can't be worrying about things like a consistent lunchtime or classes or a 9-to-5. All of my observations are caveat'd by the fact that I am ridiculously lucky to have the kind of freedom of movement and schedule that I can focus entirely on getting to know my brain better.

When it comes to staying focused on any one project, I've reluctantly concluded that the only way to win is not to play. Creativity needs time and diversity to recharge, and when you stall out in any given work session, it's usually because you're out of gas. This is why I maintain several projects in varying stages of "for my eyes only"-ness - a sketchbook, private writing projects, patreon doodles, music practice; even in the large-scale projects like the channel and the comic I have multiple angles of attack at any given time, where I can as needed switch between scripting, research, drawing frames, storyboarding more plot onto the end of the comic's current draft and lining/coloring/background-ing the finalized pages of the comic chapters earlier. This lets me maintain semi-steady progress on average, even if any one facet of the process is left by the wayside for potentially even weeks at a time.

If you're working on one writing project, one novel, I'd recommend giving yourself some time to do small-scale side-hobbies. It won't feel like they're helping, but they are.

I've started to think of inspiration rather similarly to the way I think about nutrition and digestion. It's a somewhat arcane process that, despite being a part of me, I don't exactly understand what's going on under the hood. If you eat only one thing, no matter what that one thing is, you're going to end up sick because you're lacking all sorts of niche micronutrients. If you parcel out a specific space of the only things you're allowed to eat, you might not get sick (as quickly) but you're likely going to become increasingly miserable as you think of the things you're not allowing yourself to try, or slowly build up highly specific forms of malnourishment by avoiding certain things entirely. But if you start listening to your body and try eating what it says it needs at any given time - oh, I could go for a rice bowl right now, oh I don't think I'm feeling something sugary today, man I could really go for some grapes - you're likely to hit a broadly good balance of health because you're hitting a broad range of things your body needs, even if you don't know all of their names or calorie counts, and your body is putting those resources to good use without your conscious input. Between my brain and my stomach, I only trust one of those to actually understand what a stomach needs to do its thing - and between me and my creative brain, most of the time it feels like I just work here.

I hope there was something helpful in all this!

[catsfor2]

fem!artist!reader x ellie

<warnings> sexual ?tension ?, slight slight angst, swearing, UNEDITED!

i’ve been wanting to write some hcs/drabbles for a bit and am finally doing it!!. this is kinda self indulgent and i thought others might enjoy. i want to do fics, more hcs, and am CURRENTLY DOING REQUESTS/ASKS!!!!! so plssss interact/tell me what u think!!! —j

Ellie found value in her art mainly through its life and realism. Her sketchbook was merely snippets of her mind - the love, the fear, the humor, the darkness.

Aside from books she’s sparsely found, she hasn’t been exposed to much other forms of art.

When you appeared in Jackson, it barely took days for mentions of the new ‘town artist’ to reach her ears. Dina, fawning over a delicate set of earrings, “Ellie she makes them out of plants…or like…the sap? I don’t totally remember what she said but I swear she’s so freaking cool,”

Or when Jesse came strolling in, rambling about this tiny dagger ring he now has, made out of an old spoon.

“Look I didn’t even buy it alright? Dina won’t stop talking about this chick who makes like…jewelry..I guess? Now I’ve got probably the shortest range weapon known to man,” he finished, smiling.

The final straw was when Ellie came home from a patrol late one night, achy and worn, to a tiny box sitting on her mattress.

As she peered closer, she saw a note hastily taped to the side. It read:

“Hey its Dina. I saw something and it made me think of you. I may have blabbed about you to the artist and she knows who you are now. Oops. She said she wants to see your drawings. Don’t hate me.”

Ellie felt her body suddenly become more achy and more tired. Of course. She didn’t want to get involved in this bullshit, some newcomer wooing all her friends with useless junk. Although, the thought that Dina got her a gift blurred her annoyance to a degree.

Ellie’s fingers tore through the wrapping on the outside, flipping the lid to reveal a small, bone colored pendant strung with a brown braided cord. As she peered closer, the pendant became a moon;It’s face, immaculately tiny, smiling subtly.

The necklace was far too obstructive for Ellie to wear at all, honestly. Dina probably knew this when she got it. But the pendant truly is beautiful. An entirely different art form. A different show of care - of talent. The detail allows her to comfortably sit in her room and study it quietly for another ten minutes.

Ellie sat hunched the next morning, eating something bland for breakfast, only clad in a loose sports bra and some sweatpants.

A knock heightened her soggy mood.

“Are you fucking- I went out yesterday there’s no fucking reason to be knocking on my door at—”

Jesus. There is no mistaking it, Ellie thinks. This is you.

Your hair is intertwined with beads, some homemade and some foraged from the looks of it. Dozens of necklaces, layered and tangled around your neck. The same can be said for both of your wrists. Your ears, pierced up the sides and looped with beads, charms, and other metal pieces.

It was like you were a display for the things on your body. Except, no, Ellie thinks, your face stands out amongst it all. Somehow, with all of the things covering you, your beauty is the most noticeable.

It does nothing to quell how annoyed Ellie is, however.

“Who are you,” Ellie quips(knowing full well who you are). “and what do want.”

“I’m sorry- am I intruding? I really didn’t want to bother you or anything!” You rush, suddenly embarrassed.

“I’m y/n, I just moved here. Dina just said that you might have some extra pencils and stuff that I could borrow if I ran out?” You say, hoping desperately you can save this first impression.

“I mean…” Ellie uncrosses her arms and brushes some hair behind her ear.

“Yeah, you can use some shit. I have enough to share. I didn’t know Dina told you that, so. My bad. For being…rude.” She adds, opening the door even wider. You see her muscles flex as her arms extend and curse yourself for even noticing.

“Oh it’s fine, really!” You say, making sure to remember this about Dina. Also making sure to avert your eyes from the dangerously low cut of Ellie’s sweatpants. Her careless movements are really making you nervous.

Ellie gestures for you to enter, abruptly grasping your shoulder when you don’t move as fast as she would like. She begins to walk you farther into the room.

“You do realize it’s 6 a.m. right? What do you need pencils for at 6 a.m.?” She says, staring you directly in the eyes.

“Ah, well, I guess you’re not a morning type of creator?”

“No.” Ellie sternly remarks. “I’m not.”

She turns around to start walking away.

Starting to feel like a pest, you quickly try to think of something else to change the subject.

“Y’know…I think a ring would look really nice on your hands. Or fingers- I guess.”

That’s a nice compliment right? Or did I just say something fucking insane? You think.

Ellie straightens, slowing her pace a bit.

“I could make you a ring? Like as a trade? For the…pencils?” You say.

She turns.

“Yeah…Sure…” Her hands fall on her hips.

“How do you know how big to make it,” Ellie says. “The ring.”

“Well, what I’ve been doing is using this like, bendy piece of plastic to—well, hold on,” you pause, grabbing her hand to demonstrate.

Ellie’s eyes snap to yours in an instant, invisibly clouding your brain with something warm and fuzzy. You feel her hand flex in yours.

“uh…yeah, so I use this,” you reach into your pocket. “and I wrap it around whichever finger, like middle or ring finger.”

You instinctively wrap it around her ring finger, matching up the lines and moving your head in close to see which number lines up. You feel her figure move closer to you, almost hovering over you as you work.

“aaaand it looks like you’re a size….9” you mumble, running your hands along the base of her fingers before shyly retrieving yourself from touching her, remembering the situation.

Before you can move, Ellie snatches both of your wrists, bringing them in between the both of you. Her eyes intimately gloss over your rings.

“Hold up, could I try on one of yours?”

Your face colors. You couldn’t really explain, but something about the way she’s gripping your hands makes the blood in your body heat up.

“I…yeah, yes. But these are gonna be like…pinky rings for you.” You say, hands fumbling to take off one of your rings for Ellie to try on. Your palms are getting sweatier each time she touches you.

“What?”

“Your fingers are bigger than mine. So,” you take your ring and attempt to place it on her finger. “it only fits…” Ellie’s eyes track your hands. “…on your pinky. There. See? Pinky ring.”

“Oh.” She says. Her gaze still hasn’t left your hands, almost like she’s noticing them for the first time.

You misread her quietness as some sort of sadness.

“Hey, your hands aren’t that much bigger than mine- I know a lot of girls who just have bigger ring sizes. It’s not like- a thing. To feel bad about, or anything.”

Ellie says nothing. Her mouth twitches.

“Your hands are nice. I think..”

She looks up, a laugh bubbling out slightly. Finally, she stops you.

“I don’t mind having big hands.” She looks at you with something weird, something extra.

“They’re not really that big…” You joke, thankful that Ellie has seemed become less irritated with your presence. You notice the wirey veins tracing between her fingers and lining the backs of her hands.

“Yeah?” She questions. “Wanna compare?”

The way shes smiling at you puts a fiery ball in your stomach. It gets hotter as you realize she will not stop looking at you.

“Wow you really can’t take your eyes off my hands, huh? You really want to make me a ring that bad?” She says. Something in her tone makes you pulse between your thighs.

“Oh- I don’t mean to stare. I’m sorry.” You utter, trying to regain your composure.

This is not the Ellie you were taking to before. You felt…vulnerable, now. Your shirt felt thin, it had you rethinking your bralessness. Your shorts felt…short. It felt like the exposed parts of you were burning under the possibility of being seen by Ellie.

“No, I think you mean to.” She continues, “Because you’ve been staring this whole time.”

She’s found you out. You tried your best to be subtle about the yearning, the pull you felt, the way you’ve been just a little breathless ever since you’ve walked through the door.

But you failed.

“It’s really cute, the way you say you like my hands cause of the ring thing.”

She grabs your chin gently and rubs her thumb just under your mouth.

“…But. Be honest.” She stops. Her other hand starts to inch up your leg. You barely notice until her hand brushes the hem of your shorts.

“They just turn you on.”

Your eyes flip wide open, as does your mouth.

“You can pretend it’s some sort of artistic muse thing, but I think…” Ellie tucks a strand of hair behind your ear before leaning in closely near your neck. “you just want to be touched.”

Your silence is encouraging to her, it seems. The way your eyes have glossed over and cheeks gone red also let her continue,

“Yeah, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? Have you been waiting for someone to ask you that?” Her eyes flit between your lips and the outline of your pebbled nipples under your shirt.

“For someone to give their fingers to you?”Ellie only grins. She’s pleased, excited, at your inexperience.

“I- I don’t know what to say,” you sputter.

The hand on your thigh tightens, causing you to squeeze your legs ever so slightly. You focus on meeting Ellie’s gaze and not closing your eyes to relish in the contact.

“Do you want me to touch you?” She asks.

Her eyes gaze so heavily at your mouth, it’s difficult to remember to speak.

“Cause I really want to touch you. Please?” Both of her hands are now trailing up and down your thighs, almost frantically, tugging at the bottom of your shirt and messing with the hem.

You know that she can now see your bare breasts, pushing through the fabric of your top. Ellie’s hands grope your waist and your ass suddenly slides forward from the force, your breasts pressing up against hers in an instant. The heady exhale she groans out blows past your neck. The warmth gives you shivers.

“Yes, touch me.” You say,

hoping wholly to god that it won’t be the last time you say it.

[aliensunflower-fics]

‘Akumatized Marinette’ A funny prompt!

So ive seen a few different fics and posts where Lila convinces the class that Marinette is in fact Mayura and/or is working in some way for Hawkmoth, using such evidence as ‘Marinette’s never been akumatized’ and citing how sometimes Marinette’s attempts to be helpful or friendly or yes her mistakes have resulted in an akuma going after her classmates. Also other evidence like how many akumas the class has had total. But what if Lila could not convince class that Marinette was working with Hawkmoth, desperate to connect Marinette to the supervillain in hopes of plummeting her reputation Lila claims that Marinette is in fact AKUMATIZED hence her villainous actions towards Lila!

Now just follow me here:

What if the class don't believe Lila THAT MUCH. Sure Lila has them convinced that she’s a diplomats daughter and that shes got a million illnesses and physical problems and yes she even has everyone believing that she’s famous and that her and Adrien are a secret item [how scandalous!]. But no one in the class will for a SECOND believe that Marinette is working with Hawkmoth. Lila has tried broaching the subject several times, shes tried leaving ‘hints’ and pointing things out that seem ‘incriminating’ but each and every time she does the class scoff and each of them begin listing a 100 reasons why Marinette is definitely NOT a fan of Hawkmoth and would never work with him.

Frustrated but determined to connect the super villain to Marinette and alienate the girl further Lila seethes and plots. Getting more frustrated each failed attempt and trying to chew off her own sausage hair when people talk about how Marinette would definitely kick Hawkmoth’s ass. Then one day Marinette walks in with a totally new look, she’s cut her hair into a messy pixie cut and is going for a pink punk look. The look gets everyone's attention and the day is spent with everyone complimenting the baker girl [she even gets asked out by a few of the guys in the other classes] frustrated that everyone is paying attention to Marinette instead of herself Lila cant help but make up some big lie about how Marinette assaulted her and stole her money.

The class is justifiably shocked! They have been especially protective of Marinette and her reputation ever since she was expelled and nearly akumatized so more then a few of them start yelling at Lila even Alya who normally sides with Lila due to her belief that her designer friend is jealous is furious at Lila for making an accusation like that! Desperate to recover from the poorly timed and worded lie she’s made Lila thinks fast and comes up with a scheme just crazy enough to work! She claims that obviously it wasn’t ACTUALLY Marinette, no it was the horrible akuma MARIONETTE! The class blinks taken aback but they can’t help but ask what Lila is talking about.

The italian smirks feeling sinister pleasure course through her. She begins weaving her sob story tale! About how Marinette had snuck into one of Adrien and Lila’s photoshoots! Where the poor baker girl saw them *gasp* KISSING! Poor Marinette heartbroken and distraught was akumatized into the horrible monster Marionette! Who stalked Lila home and attacked her! She goes on to claim that the Marinette who was in class today was NOT in fact their good friend rocking a new style and haircut but was instead a vicious akuma after all why do you think Lila was keeping so far away from Marinette all day? She’s TRAUMATIZED after her ordeal and now Marionette the akuma is attending class as if she were Marinette! How terrible could Hawkmoth be to be using their heartbroken friend like this!

The class doesn’t want to believe it, but it makes such perfect sense Marinette WOULD be heartbroken by seeing Adrien the ‘love of her life’ kissing Lila her main rival! And just yesterday Marinette looked completely normal with her cute little pigtails and her signature outfit! She never told any of them she was even GOING to get a haircut! And surely if Marinette was going to make such a big change in her appearance she would have told her bestie Alya right?

But now what is the class to do? Poor Marinette is akumatized and they have no idea what to do or what her object could possibly be! Max, always the logical one concludes that they should simply contact Ladybug and have her help poor Marinette! Lila quickly jumps in claiming she already tried contacting Ladybug OBVIOUSLY since the pair are besties! But that Marionette tricked Ladybug into believing she wasn’t akumatized at all! “No!” Lila laments, “were going to need to take care of this ourselves!”

The class is resolute determined to help poor Marinette without the help of Ladybug who has fallen for Hawkmoth’s most clever trick yet. But Lila is quick to warn them that they MUST be careful after all Marionette is a VERY powerful akuma, they cant know for sure the true extent of her terrible powers or when or WHO she might attack next! Lila fears that it will be poor Adrien or perhaps herself again! Insert fake sobs here. The class vow to protect Lila and Adrien from Marionette, and Alya who believes she’s best equipped for this situation since she IS Rena Rouge takes charge of the situation, they decide that no one is allowed to be alone with Marionette and NONE of them are to let the akuma know that they are on to her! They need to play the long game and figure out what her akumatized object is so that they can snatch it and free Marinette from Hawkmoth’s dastardly clutches!

Lila rejoices believing that she’s finally achieved victory, the class now think that Marinette is a dangerous monster and will isolate her, not to mention Lila now believes she can make up any lie she wants about Marinette and that the class will unquestioningly believe her! She goes home with a pep in her step eagerly plotting for all the lies and perks she can get from this newest lie and decides to eat a whole tub of ice cream to celebrate her cleverness, unaware that she’s just signed the ticket for her defeat.

You see the class LOVE Marinette, she’s their friend, and ‘learning’ that she’s been turned into some sort of monstrous extremely clever akuma is both a suprise and none at all. Later on as they all chat in the newly made text group Max points out how it was obvious that Marinette would become the most dangerous and clever akuma shes the smartest person in class besides himself and extremely creative and resourceful. Rose laments about how hurt Marinette must be and how they simply MUST save her as soon as possible. Alix curses Hawkmoth out and claims that the sick freak was probably TARGETING Marinette for awhile now because of how awesome she is. Nino and Kim cry about how their childhood bff needs them now more then ever! And Alya tells them to get ready because they cant abandon Marinette now that she needs them most!

The next day Lila comes to class ready to spin another tale about how the vicious akuma Marionette destroyed her room last night! And while the class do listen and tell Lila that it sucks that happened they seem noticeably... Distracted. When Marinette walks into the room the class practically explodes, Rose and Juleka INSIST that Marinette sit behind them so they can talk! Everyone has some sweet compliment to give to the baker reminding her about how wonderful she is! Lila’s jaw drops open as her classmates practically rush to hug and touch and talk to what they believe is a horrible monstrous Akuma! And it doesnt end their.

Lila asks Alya to hang out at the mall? She cant her and Nino are going to be on ‘Marionette’ surveillance tracking the akuma to see what shes up to and if she might show her akumatized object! Lila decides to try woo Mylene and Ivan into letting her handle their charities ‘finances’? Mylene starts crying about how the charity was Marinette’s idea before she got akumatized and now she might not even remember how amazing it was when shes eventually de-akumatized Lila cant stand hearing them talk about her enemy and gives up her pursuit of the funds. Lila decides to hang out with Kitty Section? They invited Marionette to every show hoping Luka would notice that she’s an akuma and use his amazing intuition to help free poor poor Marinette!

Instead of ostracizing the girl Marinette is now invited to every big event, and is constantly being showered with compliments and love as if the class believes that just loving Marinette enough will be the thing that ‘de-akumatizes’ her. “At least they wont let her anywhere near myself or Adrien.” Lila thinks bitterly as she gets her 5th warning that day that Lila might want to sit out the class going to the movies together with MARIONETTE.

During this time the class has been pulling off various ‘heists’ slowly going through each and every one of Marinette’s belongings to check if its the akumatized object. And I do mean every single belonging. Her sketchbook was ruled out within the first few days same with her signature earrings it was Kim who checked those and it involved a complicated plan involving taking Marinette swimming and having Kim fake a drowning in order to get close enough to ‘Marionette’ to check the studs. Luckily for Tikki, Ondine who was also at the pool decided to save Kim instead and the poor jock got quite flustered when the swimmer performed CPR on him.

Nino and the rest of the boys are the ones tasked with breaking into Marinette’s room while the girl is away on a sleepover with the girls. In order to ‘test’ each object in her room for the source of the akuma. They got a bit too loud and had to make a last minute escape when they heard Tom and Sabine going into fight mode. Poor Nino wasn’t fast enough and was forced to lie through his teeth that he’d been trying to surprise Marinette with a hangout like when they were little kids. [poor kid ended up drinking hot cocoa with Tom and Sabine as they showed off embarrassing baby pictures of Nino and Marinette together]

After about a month or so of shenanigans including a very embarrassing incident involving the entire class accidentally spying on Marinette’s first big date with Luka/Kagami/Felix/Damian [just pick one they are all great ships] and them getting caught red handed thanks to Alix and Kim roughhousing and making a scene at the nice restaurant. And another incident that Alya refers to only as the ‘duck incident’ [Nino can no longer be around birds or feathers] the class is no closer to learning where Marionette’s akumatized object is. And Lila Rossi who thought she’d be bathing in her victory is on the verge of screaming if one more person ignores her!

How does it end? Well maybe the class stage an intervention hoping they can free Marinette with the power of love only for Marinette to fall off of something laughing when she learns what Lila’s big lie was. Maybe Lila finally snaps and screams when she hears the class lament about POOR Marinette for the billionth time. Maybe the class try breaking absolutely everything Marinette owns, Maybe Juleka points out that its kind of weird that Marionette the akuma doesn’t really do... anything? And can change clothes? Can akuma’s do that? No right??? Aren’t their clothes like melded to their body??? Maybe the class finally get Adrien thinking he can ‘fix’ Marinette only for him to very confusedly tell them hes not dating Lila and has never kissed her and what Marinette akumatized??? Maybe The class recruit Luka and Kagami, Marinette’s other friends only for them to have a great laugh at the class before pointing out the literal mountain of things wrong with everything they just said.

Just fun shenanigans and ‘akumatized’ Marinette.

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[caffeinated-cryptid]

ashes, ashes.

10.8k | AO3 link | tags/tws: intrulogical, serial killer/deity of death au, lots of death (murder, mentions of a previous suicide attempt, and brief descriptions of animal death), injury, violence, swearing, morally grey characters, crime.

““You’re not supposed to be able to see me.” Logan blurted out with a start, eyes wide and looking at Remus like he had just killed a guy in front of him. Oh wait-

“Mamma always told me I was special.” Remus replied with a woozy grin, leaving back against the cool bricks of the alleyway. Seeing things that weren’t there was a new level of fucked-up for his brain, but hopefully that was just a side effect of hitting his head and not something he’d have to take pills for later. Either way, at least this spectre was pretty to look at. Trauma had its benefits.

“You think a deity of death is pretty?” Logan asked wryly, cutting through the stream of subconscious babble he’d accidentally spilled into the frigid night air. “I’d be flattered, if that didn’t sound like such a red flag.””

(aka: remus chases death like it's his favourite pastime, since it means he gets to see logan again. understandably, logan has some objections to this.)

--------------

Case 1: the man in the alley.

The first time Remus and Logan met, it was more or less a complete accident.

As a part-time warehouse operative slash freelance artist, Remus had a lot of free time between jobs, and one of the things he enjoyed doing most while waiting for his next gig to come around was spray-painting obscene images into the side of alleys. 

His latest project was a 7-foot tall purple unicorn with generous proportions. Pretty tasteful by his standards, all things considered.

If nothing else, the piece of work would give passers-by a topic of conversation, and that was always something Remus aimed to inspire with his art. These topics, however, often happened to be the ‘why’ variety. Most commonly, the old classic (and his personal favourite): ‘why are you like this?’.

Regrettably, the evening passed pretty quickly with no curious pedestrians passing by his alley and starting up such a conversation. By the time Remus finished, it was past midnight and by now the only people around were the regular nightlife-- primarily the local college kids who had recently come home and were enjoying their break from classes, and adults like himself who were trying to chase away their loneliness with some other kind of high.

...Woo, and that’s enough depressing thoughts for tonight. Remus declared to himself. After all, he had a new piece to admire! Stepping back, he spent a moment taking in the completed artwork by the light of his phone’s torch before deciding it was as perfect as it could get. He’d come back later and get a picture during the daytime to show off to his friends, so for now he begun preparing to leave by packing his paint cans into his backpack.

It was when he had collected the last can of magenta from the ground that he felt something grab the back of his coat hood. Remus had no time to process the fact that someone had snuck into the alleyway before he was shoved against the same wall he'd painted his mural on, coming face-to-face with a hooded man waving a rather pathetic-looking pocket knife at him.

“Give me your money. Now.” The man demanded.

Remus blinked in delayed surprise. Usually he was the one being the creep in the alleyway. He had never expected to come across an actual creep. Heck, this situation felt like it was pulled straight out of an old PSA with how stereotypical it was.

“What?” He blurted out unthinkingly, because of that exact train of thought. 

“You heard me! I want you to get your wallet and hand over everything you’ve got.”

What an unfortunate victim this man has chosen.

“You think I have any money to my name? I’m practically the starving artist every parent warns their kid about becoming.” Remus said with a huff of amusement.

“Don’t try to bullshit me!” The hand clutching the front of his coat tugged him forward before violently slamming him back against the bricks. The back of Remus’ head ricochetted off them roughly with the sudden movement, and the small grin he had been wearing quickly faded with flash of pain and the realization he may actually be in trouble.

“I saw the paint you’ve got in your bag,” The man continued over his dawning concern. “Somebody who’s broke wouldn’t have all that.”

Remus’ thoughts halted for a second. His bag…! He knew the paint can he was holding onto for dear life wouldn’t do much in the way of self-defense given that it was practically empty, but a whole bag of them? Hitting this guy with that much weight would make him think twice about trying to stab him, at least.

“Okay, okay. You got me, I’m rich as hell. Just let me get it, alright? My wallet's in there.”

The man gave him a skeptical look, but stepped back slightly, continuing to hold the weapon in his direction. “I know how to throw knives. Try to run and you’ll have a hole in your back quicker than an onset stroke.”

Yikes, and Remus thought he was bad at metaphors. He didn’t even need Virgil here to tell him that that made no sense. Still, he grinned placatingly. “Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye: I won’t run.”

Finally, bad-metaphor guy let down his guard and allowed Remus to side-step around him. He walked a few paces towards where he dropped his backpack in his initial shock, putting the magenta spray in before he picked it up by the straps. True to his word, he didn't run; instead he swung around on his heel, slamming the full force of his hardback sketchbooks and cans of spray paint into the face of the hooded man.

He instantly dropped his knife, falling backwards and clutching his nose as blood erupted from it. Under the low-lighting of the street lamp, Remus was transfixed for a second, feeling like he was in one of those gritty r-rated movies he watched with his babysitter as a kid. The moment was ruined when he realized that 1) the man was approaching again very quickly, and 2) he couldn’t get the momentum quick enough to swing his bag around and hit him a second time.

Before he knew it, Remus had accidentally let go of the makeshift weapon when he was tackled to the ground, wind completely knocked out of him as the two of them collided against cobblestone moistened with rain.

“You fucking bastard.” The guy hissed furiously. His voice was nasally now that his nose was crooked and broken-looking, and Remus almost wanted to poke fun of him for it until he felt two hands wrap around his throat and start to choke him. “‘Could’ve just made things easy, but now you’re gonna die with all the other trash.”

Why? Remus wanted to ask. Over the 7 dollars and 15 cents he had?

But as he tried to tear away the vice grip on his neck, he couldn’t find the voice to talk back, even though the seriousness of the situation was hitting him like a freight train. Maybe it was his own fault for escalating things instead of playing along. Go figure, he had overestimated his own abilities after years being the off-putting one; the person others thought they had to watch over their shoulder for. Either that, or maybe it was the fact that his wallet carried more sentimental value with it than monetary. It was small and made of orange ducktape, but it carried so many things that Remus wanted to protect; a photo of his family, one of Virgil's guitar picks, the ticket to the last Tenacious D he went to, and of course, the receipt for his first condom purchase.

His mind flashed to his friends and family, and he wondered how they’d feel about this; him dying because of some dumb robber in a dumb alleyway because he was painting his dumb artwork. That was hardly the kind of death one could look back on and regard with pride (Hell if it wasn't funny to imagine how everyone will react to the news, though). But as he focused on the face above him, he realized with some panic that the grip wasn’t loosening, even as he could feel his lungs burn and a near-soothing feeling telling him to just let go.

As a final act of desperation to save himself from becoming a wholly embarrassing funeral eulogy instead of having a rockstar’s death in his 40s like he always imagined for himself, he patted the ground frantically, looking for a loose rock or something to stop this with. That’s when he felt it; the slightly warm plastic handle of the knife the guy had been holding. Remus’ heart pounded as he realized what he needed to do, and he barely even considered the repercussions of the action before he was plunging the knife into the side of the guy’s neck.

Finally, the grip around his throat loosened as the guy gasped, his expression flickering back and forth between anger and shock. Remus ripped the knife away, inhaling air greedily when the sudden action caused the man to loosen his grip and move off of him, trying to cover the stab wound with his hands and failing.

Remus quickly scrambled back and pulled himself up the wall, watching and waiting for the guy to fall still. He did, after what felt like a few minutes, and Remus didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. He’d just killed a man. It was self-defence, but still… even the morbid thoughts he had over the years couldn't have prepared him for what it would have actually felt like to go through with any of it.

In that moment of pause, his injuries caught up with him as both his head and neck begun to ache. He was so disoriented that he barely even noticed the third person standing in the alley until they spoke up.

“Well. I didn’t see that coming.”

Remus snapped his head towards the source of the voice, and immediately regretted it when the hasty motion made him dizzy. The only reason he didn’t immediately jump into fight mode was because of the unusually casual way the voice had spoken. Beyond that, the figure he saw standing a short distance away didn’t really… look like a regular person. Beyond the odd formal clothing that had no discernable modern style to it and the shock of white hair that could only be achieved with hella bleach, his skin was a cool grey like a cadaver and he had a ghostly appearance to him; transparent and misty around the edges.

Definitely not the sort of thing Remus expected to see, but he was always one to accommodate the unexpected. 

“...You and me both. My only goal for today was to draw unicorn porn.” Remus replied lightly, once he decided it wouldn't hurt to entertain whatever was currently happening.

The figure turned, startling at the sight of Remus staring directly at him.

“You’re not supposed to be able to see me.” He blurted out with wide eyes, looking at Remus like he had just killed a guy in front of him. Oh wait-

“Mamma always told me I was special.” Remus replied with a woozy grin, leaving back against the cool bricks of the alleyway. Seeing things that weren’t there was a new level of fucked-up for his brain, but hopefully that was just a side effect of hitting his head and not something he’d have to take pills for later. Either way, at least this spectre was pretty to look at. Trauma had its benefits.

“You think a deity of death is pretty?” The man (deity???) asked wryly, cutting through the stream of subconscious babble he’d accidentally spilled into the frigid night air. “I’d be flattered, if that didn’t sound like such a red flag.”

"I can't believe my own brain is kinkshaming me." Remus whined, slipping down slightly as the worn-down soles of his boots lost their grip on the concrete for a second. 

Death frowned, until a metaphorical lightbulb lit over his head. "Ah- you think you're hallucinating. Well, that's not an unfair assumption. Keep believing it, by all means."

"That doesn't sound like something a hallucination would say." Remus pointed out.

"Well then, I'll gladly prove my non-existence by disappearing." Death said as he took a step towards the body.

"Wait!" Remus called before he could figure out why. The ghostly figure stopped, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Remus’ composure slipped as his eyes darted between the body and Death. "I...I need to know that this is real. That I'm not making this up. This feels like something I'd dream, but…" 

His hand clenched around the knife, feeling the squelch of blood and the tremor of his hand. Despite the mixed signals he was currently getting on the state of his sanity, it felt solid and real, and Remus wasn’t sure what to make of that.

"Fuck. Please tell me! Am I being as messed up as usual or did I really just kill someone?"

Death’s eyes softened. "You did. This is real." 

"Well shit. Okay…" Remus looked back at the body with a deep resignation. He wondered if he should do something about that. Probably not; that would look even more incriminating.

"...If it makes you feel better, he has hurt people in situations like this before, and completely unnecessarily; his only motive was to achieve a rush.” 

That did make Remus feel better, actually. 

"Good. I’m glad I killed a piece of shit and not someone down on their luck." Remus sighed, eyeing the spectral figure. "Speaking of, if this is real, then I guess that means you are too right?"

Any sympathy on Death's place quickly faded as he was caught out. "Erm-"

"It's cool." Remus leaned his head back again. "Talking to a cute ghost man? Sounds like a typical Thursday night for me."

Actually, this was the furthest thing from a typical Thursday night for Remus, but he didn’t want to admit that to the cute ghost man and risk looking uncool.

"You shouldn't get acquainted with it. Seeing me is hardly a good thing." Death replied, though his cheeks were distinctly a darker grey. 

"Aww- don't sell yourself short. I love your work!" Remus waved away vaguely. He always had a strange relationship with death in a way that others didn’t; always the first to laugh at a funeral or smile instead of grieve. That was probably why he felt so comfortable right now. “Besides, we’ll all be food for the dirt and worms eventually, anyway. Why get uncomfortable with it?"

Death met his eyes again, seeming slightly more firm. “Perish those thoughts, it's hardly your time yet."

Remus pouted. "It's still inevitable, though. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy I didn’t die today and got to meet you instead, but what’s so bad about something that’s going to happen either way?”

“I’m starting to think I was right by judging your attitude as a red flag.” Death muttered.

“But I'm right aren't I?” Remus prodded.

“Indeed.” Death begrudgingly conceded. “And do you know just how inevitable it is? Approximately 2 people die per second; 106 per minute. There have been 6435 events of armed conflict in the past year alone, and over 690 million people who are undernourished as we speak. Beyond that, there are even more people losing their lives to case-by-case natural events and incidents. So if you’d be so kind, do not be so eager to create more work for me.”

Remus absorbed that information, tilting his head. “Despite all that, you’re still here?”

“...I am.” Death agreed after a heavy pause, in the same manner most would admit their own defeat. “I’ll admit, I’m not used to… talking so much. It’s an unusual feeling, but it’s been pleasant, I suppose.”

“Death likes my company.” Remus laughed. “That’s gotta be saying something.”

Death rolled his eyes. “My name is Logan, not Death.” 

“Huh. I’m Remus.” Remus replied, a little baffled. He didn’t expect a deity to have such a normal name.

“Remus ‘Tsukio’ Kaneshiro, I already know of you. We’ve met before.”

Remus’ bafflement only grew. “We have? I think I’d remember meeting someone like you.”

“You wouldn't; you were unconscious. It was after you overdosed on cold medicine. Thankfully your parents got you to the hospital on time before I could do my job, but I remember it being a close call.” Logan looked at him knowingly.

“...Oh.” Remus laughed nervously. He definitely remembered that. Finding out you could overdose on a lot of common household items was pretty dangerous for him to learn as a teenager, and he’d never forget how furious his entire family was with him for being so reckless. He never knew how to tell them that it wasn’t quite the accident they assumed it to be (needless to say, his adolescent years were pretty shitty to him, being the outsider in this town in more ways than one). Thankfully, the taste of cold medicine had become too repulsive for him to try anything like that again.

“...I am glad you’re alright. It’s always unfortunate when a life ends too soon.”

“Well…thanks. This has been pretty trippy, so I’m glad I met you too, Logan.”

Logan hummed and looked towards the end on the alleyway. “By the way, you should think about leaving soon. There’s a group of people approaching us.”

Shit, Remus had almost forgotten that he had just committed a crime. Given how awful this scene looked, there was a big chance he’d get thrown into jail for this if he got caught. But at the same time, he was almost hesitant to leave behind the spectre that had enchanted his heart within a few minutes, even if his mind was still trying to catch up with the overload of information.

“Why would you help me?” He asked quickly and somewhat suspiciously.

Just as Logan finished his business with the body, he looked at him over his shoulder with an almost sly expression. “You seem interesting, Remus. I’d hate for you to lose your life over someone so unworthy of one.”

And with that, Logan disappeared like a cloud of fog. Remus stood there transfixed, until he remembered Logan’s warnings and snatched up his bag, shoving the knife into his pocket and dashing into the night.

--------------

Case 2: the man who couldn't leave well enough alone.

The next time Remus and Logan met, it was slightly less of an accident, but fuck if the guy didn’t deserve it.

When Remus got home after the night he first saw Logan, he was more grateful than ever that he lived in such a run-down part of town. There were barely any security cameras to look out for, let alone people who were willing to be out during the early hours of the morning. 

He was able to slip into his apartment complex unseen, avoiding his early-bird roommate long enough to wash away his crimes in the shower.

After that, he fell into his bed, completely unable to process everything that had just happened. So instead he fell asleep and left the deep thinking to his future self.

As expected, he needed plenty of time to collect his thoughts. First of all, he knew he hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing because after weeks and months of taking it as easy as possible, he hadn’t seen anything else as strange as a personification of death named Logan. Logan...what kind of name even was that? It felt like the name of a teacher, not something that should be as grim and macabre as Remus himself. 

But that was the other thing; Remus couldn’t get the thought of Logan out of his head. He was like the angel who had come down to bless him in a moment of weakness, saving him from further misfortune. He knew he had little to no chance of seeing their deity again, but that didn’t stop him from plaguing his mind constantly. 

Remus figured the best chance he’d probably get at seeing Logan again was to become involved with death once more. His mind immediately jumped to animals, the easiest targets; he pictured slipping into a farm late at night and slitting the throat of one of the sheep, going to a pet store and buying a hamster for the night before ‘accidentally’ leaving it in a box to suffocate, picking up a stray from the street and snapping its neck quickly. But just as soon as those thoughts came to him, he waved them away with a grimace. He wouldn’t be able to go through with any of that, even for Logan.

People had always talked about him like he was a serial killer in training. They would keep a wary eye when he picked up sharp objects and ask his brother if Remus had ever hurt one of their pets as kids, as if because he had unconventional ideas, he was a complete sadist towards the innocent. (And yes, perhaps he did have thoughts of that nature too, but they’d always fill him with sickness because he fucking loved the pet dogs they had as kids, damn it). In any case, he knew that going through with those ideas would only be proving those people right, that he was a dangerous individual who’d murder an innocent creature just for someone his brain maybe made up.

...Perhaps he was losing his mind after all. What was he doing, plotting out the best way to see Death? If anyone else could hear his thoughts, they’d think him half-mad or suicidal. It seemed like the best thing so do was to try to push this out of his mind, so eventually, that's what he did. He wasn’t so good at that usually; his mouth ran a mile a minute and the people who knew him would often say that his brain-mouth filter was non-existent. But this felt like something he’d like to keep for himself, especially when news of the murder made it onto the local news, presumed to be the outcome of ‘gang activity’ simply because the victim was successful and had a loving family and what else could explain this?

He decided to not think about making plans anymore, and he only thought about Logan when his mind was otherwise unoccupied. It stayed that way until the very next week when he found out about the situation with his roommate’s ex.

Remus didn’t have many people in the world who were willing to put up with him, but the one’s that did, he cherished dearly. So when Nadia, the woman he’d describe as belonging among the Valkyries (if only she could get past her deal of not wanting to hurt a fly), came to him looking uncharacteristically shaken and upset, Remus felt something in him snap.

She told Remus about how her ex-boyfriend was following her to her workplace and making threats on her life. He’d even begun showing up outside their apartment late at night in an attempt at intimidation, and that detail alone pissed him off considering he’d been too in his head to even notice.

“All because I decided I deserved better.” Nadia told him tearily. She was so strong usually, both physically and emotionally, so seeing her so close to crying felt like a punch to the gut. “I just want for him to be gone… But James would probably kill me before I could even file a restraining order.”

“What if he was gone?” Remus blurted out. “Hypothetically.”

Nadia blinked at him, wiping a stray tear. “Honestly? I think the world would be a better place. But that’s never going to happen.”

Remus nodded. “Right. Of course. Do you still have his number, by any chance?”

--

Remus’ plan was simple: Nadia would call her ex and ask him to come over to ‘reconcile’, and when he did, Remus would confront him. Scare him enough to stay away for good. He was pretty great at being intimidating when he wanted to that the both of them assumed it would work out.

Well, James came as planned. Their apartment complex had one massive security flaw in that anyone could get in without keys or permission, so the only clue Remus got that James was coming was the sound of footsteps bouncing off the walls of the stairwell. Remus stood upright and waited, until he saw the top of James’ head slowly ascending up the stairs, pausing on the second-top step.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” James scoffed disbelievingly as Remus moved in front of him. “Did Nadia seriously send out the guard dog? What? Suddenly too afraid to talk for herself?”

Remus considered barking at him in response, but considering how James was way above the common creep in terms of persistence, he crossed his arms instead and glared steadily.

“Hell yeah she did. You should know why, given how much of a low-life asshole you’ve been acting all week. When are you going to give up the big guy act, huh? Curley called and he wants his complex back.”

James, in all of his 5-foot-no-thoughts glory, only squinted as the insult went over his head.

“...I knew I never fuckin’ liked you. Don’t get involved in our relationship, you little freak.” James tried to pass him, and Remus quickly blocked him, taking out the knife he’d stolen months ago.

“Take another step and this is going in your goddamn eye.” Remus raised his voice, confident that most of their neighbours were already out at work. “You’re not going near Nadia ever again, do you hear me?”

“Or what?! What’ll you do, Kaneshiro? Stab me? Put the toothpick away and step aside, for god’s sake. This is embarrassing, even for you.”

The two of them stood in a standstill, staring each other down as the echo from James’ exclamation faded out.

“...Fine.” Remus said finally. He slipped the knife back into his pocket, and James smirked smugly until Remus grabbed the front of his shirt instead. “It’ll be more fun to do this, anyway.”

With that he shoved James backwards, who quickly lost his footing and fell down the long and narrow flight of stairs. He tumbled for few moments, hitting each step, until he landed on the ground floor with a distant thump.

Remus stared after him, preparing for James to get up and start making a scene like he always did when he didn’t get his way. He didn’t.

Frowning, Remus descended the stairs, and as he drew closer to the slumped-over body, he noticed the puddle of blood around James’ head and the odd way he’d landed.

“Damn.” Remus commented under his breath. “Nadia’s going to kill me.”

He heard a sigh somewhere ahead of him, and fearing someone had walked in on his compromising position, Remus quickly glanced up, excuse at the ready.

“It was an accident-!” He exclaimed, before he realized it was Logan standing there, looking between James and Remus with a pinched expression.

“I know you pushed him, Remus. That’s not exactly what the law would define as an ‘accident’.”

For a second, Remus was starstruck (and opting to ignore the consequences of his actions). “You remember me.”

“Of course I do. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon, though.”

That almost sounded like an accusation, so Remus held his hands up defensively. “Hey, in my defence he was just asking to die. The dude's a dick!”

Logan sighed. “Regardless, you shouldn't go around killing people. Sooner or later you’ll get caught.”

“Well, I’m 1 for 1 so far! But if you’d rather me not get in trouble… Have any tips on how to cover this?” Remus joked, winking.

Logan frowned at him before he truly considered it, looking around at the scene thoughtfully. “...Double check to make sure you left no evidence. Move quickly, before anybody stumbles across the scene. And if you have time, plant something which will make this look more like an accident-- for instance, a spill on the stairs.”

Remus’ eyes widened. “I wasn’t expecting actual tips. Holy shit- okay.”

He went over to check the body, feeling his cheeks heat up. He absolutely should not be getting flustered over advice on how to cover up a murder, yet here he was.

“I feel like you shouldn’t be encouraging this.” Remus said jokingly as he smoothed out the creases on the front of James’ shirt. “Didn’t you say something about having more work to do? Who knows, you might be giving me a new hobby.”

Remus laughed. Logan didn’t. When he glanced up, the deity was frowning.

“Perhaps not. Forget what I said; I shouldn’t be interfering in matters like this. I shouldn’t even be appearing to you now.”

“Woah, woah, woah. What’s the matter? I thought you liked talking.” Remus hastily stood upright, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I- regardless of my personal feelings, I have a job to do. I can’t allow myself to become so partial over one human.” Logan replied, rubbing at the crease between his eyebrows.

“Why? What’s the worst that could happen?!” Remus argued.

“You could cheat death, for starters.”

“You already know how I feel about that.” Remus whined. “I’ll off myself when the time comes, if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Don’t-” Logan exclaimed, before he reigned himself back in. “Just. No. You’re supposed to go naturally. Neither you or I should interfere with that.” 

Remus frowned. He wasn’t so sure he liked the thought of such a boring death. If anything, he wanted to go out in a blaze of glory. Otherwise, he’d be just another body no one would remember-- like loverboy over there.

“That means no more meetings like this.” Logan continued on.

“But what if I want to see you again?” Remus muttered. He looked across the room to Logan and found him wearing a similar downtrodden expression, until it grew serious.

“You’ll just have to deal with that, because we were never supposed to meet in the first place. I have a duty to fulfil and you have a life to live. Our paths are as parallel as can be.”

“This is bullshit, Logan.” Remus said, but he didn’t argue any further. Not when Logan walked around him to complete his business. Not when he prepared to leave, either.

“Don’t do this again.” Logan said finally, giving him a stern glare. “I mean it.”

--------------

Case 3: the woman in the streets.

The next time Remus and Logan met, Logan was starting to think Remus was making a habit of this after all.

In Remus’ defence, he totally wasn’t.

Logan’s parting words just wouldn’t leave his head. It was even worse than last time; the knowledge that he could kill anyone and get to see Logan again plagued him, and he found himself pulling away from his family and friends after the questioning from the police was over and done with.

They were all worried for him, but especially Nadia who knew exactly what he did and assumed it was because of the guilt that he was becoming uncharacteristically withdrawn. Although she was shocked at how things had escalated, she tried to apologize multiple times for letting Remus confront James, which he would always blow off. It wasn’t killing James that had gotten to him, not at all; in fact he was glad that prick was out of their hair. Rather, he grappled with the idea of never seeing Logan again, one of the few people who truly saw the worst sides of him and accepted them nonetheless.

He didn’t deal with it well. 

The night of their next meeting, Remus was out drinking alone. It wasn’t something he was proud of, but he didn’t want to justify why he wanted to get absolutely wasted to his friends, so being sad and lonely for one night it was. 

He had stumbled out of the bar late at night, beginning his unsteady trek home since he had accidentally spent too much money and couldn’t afford an uber to drive him back. Stepping onto the street a couple blocks from his apartment, everything was quiet until the person ahead of him crossed the road, just as a car sped around the corner and knocked them over with an awful crunch.

Remus stood in shock. He looked after the swerving car to get the licence plate, but it was already too late and they had hit the gas upon noticing him. Swearing, he stumbled over to the person left in the road. 

“Shit- Are you alright? Of course not, you need an ambulance.” He was struggling to unlock his phone when he noticed how still the person-- a frail old woman-- was. It didn’t even look like she was taking breaths, though it was hard to tell through his swimming vision and the thick coat she was wearing.

With unsteady fingers, Remus pressed against the pulsepoint on her neck, and felt the moment her heartbeat stopped.

“Oh…”

And then he turned on his heel and threw up.

Death wasn’t supposed to bother him like this. He had always been proud of his ability to frighten others with his dismissive attitude towards life’s eventualities. But this was different. He had just watched the murder of a complete stranger right before his eyes, and there wasn't even anything he could do. What the fuck?

He didn’t even feel better when the person he’d been longing to see all night appeared right in front of him, arms crossed and ready to give a lecture.

“Again, Remus?! What did I tell you?! No more murder!” Logan threw his hands up at the sight of Remus next to the body, that was until he noticed the cause of death and Remus’ sickly appearance,

“I-I didn’t do anything this time, I swear. Logan I promised myself I wouldn’t.” He picked himself out of the gutter he had been puking into, trying to look at the deity, just so he could feel some sense of reassurance. “I thought I’d never see you again. ‘Thought I was okay with that, but I’m not. I missed you.”

Logan only stared at Remus when he began crying. He was a sappy emotional drunk when he got through the fun tipsy phase, sue him.

“...I apologize for yelling at you.” Logan said, awkwardly hovering his hand over Remus’ shoulder until it shuddered with a sob and accidentally brushed against him. Remus jolted at the cool touch, as did Logan, who quickly retreated his hand, eyes darting around worriedly.

“‘Always thought you’d be like mist.” Remus slurred, awestruck enough to forget his sadness. He reached forward to prod at Logan, who furrowed his eyebrows thoughtfully.

“I… Yes, that’s definitely strange.” Logan cleared his throat and straightened up. “In any case, you need to get off the street, report this incident, and go home. Being around so much death isn’t good for your mental health.”

“Maybe.” Remus sighed. “I quite like hanging around you, though.”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re drunk. You’re going to feel a lot worse about seeing me in the morning, I promise.”

“I never feel bad about seeing you.” Remus said, picking up his phone from where he’d dropped it. “I only feel bad that it’ll be a long time before I get the chance to see you again.”

“...I don’t get it.” Logan replied softly after a heavy pause. “You shouldn’t want to see me at all. I’m a bad omen. You’d only ever get to meet me in times of tragedy.”

“‘Bad omen’... And I thought Emo was dramatic.” Remus chuckled weakly. “You’re not so bad, Lo. You guide people to the end. You care for them even when you have so many people to watch over. You’re opinionated and you’re easily curious when things don’t go to plan. You don’t mind when I’m weird and you’re fun to talk to. I like you.”

Logan blinked rapidly with surprise, clutching his chest. “I wish we could be having this conversation away from the recently deceased. But... I suppose I feel the same way. I still don’t know how or why you can see me, but our conversations haven’t been unpleasant.”

“Death likes my company.” Remus said, smiling softly to himself. “...You’re right though. I should probably phone this in. I just wish I could remember the licence plate… Something like XQ... ugh.”

“XQR 460.” Logan supplied helpfully. 

“That’s it!” Remus cheered, sloppily kissing Logan on the cheek. “Thanks babe!”

Logan floundered for a second as Remus begun calling an ambulance, struggling to regain composure. “I hope we don’t meet like this again soon. Three times over the span of a year is already too much.”

“I don’t know.” Remus looked at Logan slyly. “I’ve always had pretty bad luck.”

--------------

Case 4: the bad doctor.

The next time Remus and Logan meet, it’s completely coincidental and under less stressful circumstances for once.

Well, still stressful. Just for different reasons. 

Roman was in the hospital because of some dumb motorcycle crash he got into, which near-gave Remus a heart attack when he heard about because he may often ask for death these days, but not like this. Never like this.

Anyway, he was more or less alive in the end. Just a broken leg and a lot of scrapes and bruises since he always refused to wear the proper protective clothing when he went riding (due to it ‘not fitting his aesthetic', apparently. Remus assumed it was pussy talk for ‘I don’t look badass enough to pull off leather’).

Remus had stopped by to visit, bringing some of the fancy name-brand crackers Roman liked since he kept complaining about how stale and awful the hospital’s ones were, and to say hello to Virgil while xe was on shift. The three of them even managed to sit down while Virgil was on break and catch up, too. Roman and Virgil seemed glad Remus was doing a bit better after his downward spiral a couple of weeks ago, even if they didn’t mention it.

After a few hours spent catching up and teasing one another, he decided to leave Roman to get some rest. His plans for that evening were to take a load off and perhaps call for some takeout with Nadia. Honest to God, he didn’t plan on looking for any trouble.

But still, trouble found him when he noticed Logan walking the halls of the hospital, following a doctor to the elevator.

Remus double-taked. Though he shouldn’t really be surprised to see Logan here in a place with so much death, it was still odd witnessing the cloaked figure walk around normal people, none of them noticing his presence. 

Remus quickly jogged over. "Logan!" He hissed under his breath.

The deity startled (startled!) before turning to him, just like the doctor he was following. 

"Do you need something?" The doctor said, raising an eyebrow.

"Uhhhh, nope! Just… getting into the elevator." Remus replied, stepping in and standing next to Logan.

"Why must you have such awful timing?" Logan sighed stressfully as the elevator doors slid shut. Remus looked at him, unable to verbally reply with the doctor standing right next to them. Fortunately, his unspoken request to elaborate was picked up on.

"This doctor is going down go the morgue. I was here to see a patient that died under his care, and I noticed how death seemed to latch onto him. I got curious."

Sounds like a bad doctor, if even a deity of death was interested in him. Heh, that probably said a lot about Remus too. 

Logan elaborated for Remus’ misinterpreting amused expression. "Remus, he murders patients purposefully. You should not have gotten on this elevator."

...Oh. Remus looked past Logan to the doctor, who had noticed his glances.

"...Hm, aren't you supposed to be in your room? Broken leg, road burn, lacerations?" He questioned, eyes flicking down to where he assumed Remus must be injured.

"Nope! You’re thinking of my twin. I came to visit him today." Remus responded as chipper as he could manage, suddenly a lot more unnerved knowing that this apparently dangerous doctor knew about his brother.

"Ah! I see. I did wonder how you managed to grow a full moustache in a day." The man chuckled. "Twins… quite fascinating."

Uh oh spaghetti-os. "Yeah… people say we're like two unrelated people, we’re so different." Remus laughed dismissively. It didn't seem to bother the doctor. 

"Interesting… Say, a partner of mine is conducting a study on the differences in the individual psychologies of monozygotic twins. I'm sure it would please her to get more data, if you'd be interested in participating. There would be monetary compensation for your time, of course." 

"This is such an unethical form of recruitment. What kind of professional are you?" Logan argued in frustration. Remus almost burst into laughter on the spot from the bizarreness of the situation, but he somehow managed to turn it into an agreeable grin instead. 

"Sounds good, doc." Remus said. 

"What-?!" Logan exclaimed. Remus spared him a glance, hoping it would let him know he knew what he was doing. Logan didn't look placated in the slightest.

"Excellent! I'll pass the details onto your brother and we can arrange a meeting sometime this week.”

At that moment, the elevator stopped to let a few other people on. Remus took the opportunity to head out before they could reach the basement floor. 

“See you later!” He called to both the Doctor and Logan.

“REMUS!”

--------------

Case 4.5: the dead doctor.

The next time they meet, Remus fully expects it.

Roman asks him over text why he volunteered them for a study, and Remus makes some vague excuse like ‘sexy doctor’. Thankfully, he bought it.

Before the date sent to them by the doctor, Remus decided to do his own research first. To do so, he contacted Virgil and asked for details on the man. 

After copious amount of friendly jabs (like 'oooh Remus, I didn’t know tall, straight, and boring was your type'), Virgil told him his name and not much else, given that xe wasn't exactly close with the older staff member. That was fine; Remus used the information to find online profiles, where he found contact details and photos, where he found business accounts, where he found history.

After pulling a few more strings from people that owed him one, he managed to gain access to the vital records from the hospital. It didn’t take long to discover that Logan was right, there had been a spike in deaths since the doctor, a mister 'Stacey’, had begun working there. It was a mystery how no one had noticed the pattern honestly. Weren't doctors supposed to get their licences taken away after a certain number of incidents? As he begun looking through the files more closely however, he realized that the deaths were often chalked up to accidents; small things that could have been due to anything, from mistakes during operations, to the patients overdosing on their prescribed medication, to incidents days after they’ve been discharged.

As Remus closed his laptop, he begun feeling very glad he had impulsively accepted Stacey’s offer. 

--

The meeting ended up being scheduled for Friday evening, and by the time it rolled around, Remus was fully prepared and waiting outside of the agreed location. He dialled Roman’s number, looking out to the empty parking lot and familiarizing himself with the location.

After a few rings, Roman picked up, sounding slightly agitated. “Yes, Captain Dookey?”

Remus snickered at the old nickname-- it was practically a relic from when they played pirates as children. Perhaps Roman was feeling sentimental after his accident.

“Aye aye first mate. You should know that I’m not gonna make it to the study. I already called Dr. Stacy to let him know we’re cancelling for today, so you can stay home.”

“Really Remus? I just got ready.”

“Yeah well, you’re supposed to be resting anyway. Unless you want to drop a visit by yourself that is, but Virgil told me he’s straight, soooo...”

He heard a retching sound on the other end of the line.

“No thanks.” A sigh. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, I guess.”

“Bye, ugly.”

“Later, Rat Bastard.”

“Rats are cute, that’s not an insult. Byeee~.” Remus quickly hung up, his grin quickly fading as he took in the apartment complex. 

It didn’t look like the sort of space that would house an office, but Stacey didn’t look like the type to break the Hippocratic oath either, so perhaps the world wasn’t as straight-forward as it seemed.

Slipping his phone away, Remus buzzed the number he’d been given, and it wasn’t long before the good doctor himself came down to answer the door personally.

“Remus.” Stacey almost looked surprised to see him. “Is your brother not coming?”

“Oh, no.” Remus waved a hand. “I just got off the phone with him and he told me he’s running late. He said to get started without him.”

He received a charming smile. “That works just fine. Come on in.”

Stacey led him up the stairs to his apartment, and the whole time Remus felt the weight of the kitchen knife in his pocket. When they got to the ‘office’ (which was really just a living room with minimal furnishing), he offered him a drink.

“No thanks, I’m good.” Remus said, looking around. “...Seems pretty empty in here for an office.”

“Ah… Yes, unfortunately my colleague is having renovations done in her usual space, so we’ll have to collect our data here. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

A fair enough explanation on the surface, and one his brother would probably accept if he was here, but Remus wasn’t nearly as trusting as Roman was. Nor was he as ignorant to the true purpose of this meeting.

“I see… That makes sense. Or at least it would, if I didn’t already know all about your dirty little secrets.”

Stacey glanced up from where he’d been looking for a pen. “...Pardon?”

Remus smiled back; a grin with all teeth. “You have quite a few skeletons in your closet, doc. Even for a fine medical professional like yourself.”

The doctor very carefully didn’t react to that. "My apologies, do you have the right person? To the best of my knowledge we've only spoken once." 

"Yeah." Remus agreed. "And once is all it took. I found out about all those little accidents that follow you, doctor. Weird how many times your patients pass away from nicked veins and potassium chloride overdoses, hm?"

The only outward response Stacey gave was the clenching of his fists. Subtle, but Remus noticed it. "Be careful Mr. Kaneshiro, because that sounds an awfully lot like a baseless accusation. People sue for that, you know." 

"I don't doubt it. But you already know it's not so baseless, don't you? You know exactly what I’m talking about, which is why you invited us here to a shady apartment late at night, no colleague in sight."

"Remus what the hell do you think you're doing?!" A familiar voice chimed from behind him.

Remus startled out of his focus, whipping his head around. "Logan?" 

"Don't look at me, you ignoramus-! You met a serial killer alone after I told you to stay away?!"

"He knows my brother, I couldn't just-!"

Remus looked back at the doctor was closer now, looking down at him pitifully. "I see now. The talking to air, the erratic behaviour, the pushing your delusions onto others… you mustn't be well. It's alright, Mr. Kaneshiro, I could easily refer you to a mental health facility who will take care of you."

"Remus, you have to get out! Now!" 

"I know!" He wasn’t a complete idiot, damn it! But he needed to get Stacey to confess or-

"Ah, perfect! If you wait here, I’ll go and make a call." 

Remus stepped backwards, hand going to the knife in his pocket. He needed Stacey to confess, but if he didn’t-

Unfortunately, Stacey noticed his movement and quickly grabbed his left wrist, putting way too much pressure in his grip than was necessary. 

"Ah-ah. I told you to stay put, didn't I? Come now, don't be difficult. I'm only trying to get you the help you need."

If he didnt-

"Let go of him!" Logan demanded to the man who couldn't hear him. 

Stacey froze, feeling the cool touch of Death on his arm as Logan tried to pull him away, and at that moment Remus pulled his knife out and stabbed him in the chest; slipping the blade right between the ribs. 

Red pooled around the knife, staining his crisp white shirt vividly. Stacey stared at the knife, and dug his nails into Remus’ wrist. 

"Fucker." Remus yelped with pain, pulling the weapon back out. 

Finally, Stacey let go and stumbled back, hitting the wall and sliding down to the floor. His expression didn't recover from the shock from when Logan touched him; he didn't even try to apply pressure to the wound as he bled out. He just sat there until the light left his eyes, and the only sound left in the room was Remus’ laboured breathing.

"I… shouldn't have done that." Logan muttered, eyeing the limp body. 

"Done what? I'm the one that killed him. That was my backup plan all along." Remus replied numbly, looking at the scene he had caused. 

"I gave him the touch of Death, it's- it's an omen. I'm not supposed to use it ever."

"Gee, I'm flattered. I promise murder was always on my brain though." Remus said as he took the tape recorder out of his pocket. No need for this anymore. He wanted to get a clip of Stacey saying something incriminating so that he could defame him and ruin his reputation, but well, him not being able to benefit from a reputation at all was the next best thing.

Logan watched him, taking in the claw marks across his wrist. "...Right. He scratched you, so remember to clean under his nails." 

Despite everything, Remus smiled softly at the advice. "Aww, you really care about me, don't you?"

"I- no. Absolutely not. That’s absurd" Remus snickered as Logan flushed an adorable shade of paynes grey, which he hid by going to deal with the corrupt doctor’s soul. 

"...Why did you show up, by the way? There isn't anyone dead in this apartment is there?" Remus realized belatedly, looking around the empty space. 

"Ah… No. Admittedly, I've been keeping a closer eye on this town than I really should, and after what happened the other day, I figured I needed to be here when I noticed you two meeting… I probably shouldn’t have.” Logan conceded.

"Well, at least you can't say this wasn't a business visit." Remus giggled to himself, wiping the blood from his knife with a tissue. Maybe he was a little giddy from the endorphins of confronting a prolific serial killer, or perhaps it was the confirmation that Logan cared for him, but either way he felt really good right now, like he could take on the world.

Logan looked at him and sighed. "I should've known you'd be trouble. No more killing, Remus. This has to be the last time."

"Of course, pinky promise~."

"...I can see you crossing your fingers behind your back, you brat."

--------------

Case 5: the one who tried to get away.

The next time they met, Remus broke his pinky promise. No surprises there.

It was hardly even a promise to begin with, but for some reason Logan expected him to stick to it. Quite foolish, if you ask Remus, given that he now had a total of three murders under his belt, and stopping there almost felt like giving up. 

Of course, he had to lay low after Stacey however. The hospital was holding a memorial for his death and Remus later found out that it was ruled a break in. (Made sense, since Remus took a few of his fancy cleaning products on the way out, as a treat to himself.)

It was a shame Stacey was being remembered so honourably, but he couldn't really do anything about that. At least he wasn't out in the world hurting more people. 

But unfortunately for Remus, the ruling of Stacey’s murder didn’t stop the incident from trickling into his normal life, as Virgil and Roman seemed to grow suspicious of him. Virgil didn't bring up the topic to him directly, but xe begun acting sketchy when the two of them hung out (Though that could easily be wariness after having one of xyr co-workers be killed). Oppositely, Roman brought the topic up at the first chance possible.

"Dr. Stacey was murdered the night we were supposed to meet him." Roman commented the next day they were able to have lunch together, arms crossed confrontationally. "Funny that."

"Yeah. Sounds like we had some pretty good luck, if you ask me." Remus grinned.

"Wha- why are you smiling?! A man died!" His twin hissed at him. Under his breath, as to not alert the other tables.

Remus’ grin faded. "Listen Ro-bro, I didn't want to tell you this but our good doctor wasn't as kind as you think he is. I called you off that night to help you. Trust me. It’s better off that neither of us went through with that ‘study’."

Roman leaned back, looking unconvinced. "What were you doing instead, Remus?"

"...Huh?"

"You heard me. Where were you? What's your alibi?"

"You're not accusing your own flesh and blood of murder, are you?" Remus sipped his drink casually; ice coffee with as many pumps of peppermint syrup as the barista would allow. 

"Just answer the question." Siiigh, what a tightass. How did they come out the same womb? 

"I was meeting an old friend, for your information. Logan." Remus smiled to himself at the inside joke.

"Logan? You've never mentioned a Logan before." Roman raised his eyebrows.

Remus leaned back in his chair with a shrug, opting to look out the window instead. By doing so he missed the flash of complicated emotions that crossed his twin’s face at the dismissive gesture.

"I don't tell you everything about my life, brother dearest."

"Clearly…"

--

A week or two passed since his conversation with Roman, and during that time Remus didn't get to see Logan again once. That wasn't such a terrible thing, most people would assume, to not run into a deity of death, but Remus was so bored! He wanted to see his favourite death pal again, but no opportunities arose to do that, and nothing was striking his murder-fancy.

That was until the day he saw a familiar licence plate parked outside a shop.

Remus froze in his tracks, remembering the night he last saw that car.

A woman crossing the street, a body too still, a car speeding away with no remorse-

Remus had given the licence number to the police, but clearly they hadn't done anything about it. Or perhaps they'd tried and the asshole bought them off. 

He growled at the idea, startling a passer-by who was crossing around him.

Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long before he found out who his ire belonged to. A familiar face left the shops and begun walking towards the car; Anton, a guy who had been a year above him back in high school. Remus’ memory of the man was vague; primarily made up of snapshots of cruelty and entitlement towards those around him.

He looked exactly the same, with his annoyingly polished appearance and ugly overpriced clothes. So he was right about the police being paid off, then. Typical.

He'd just have to do something about this himself. 

--

“I suppose there’s no point in trying to convince you to stop this, is there?”

“I mean.” Remus begun, looking down at the body he had just finished suffocating and rubbing at his bruised arms. There was more of a struggle than tv had led him to believe. “I kinda had to do this one. What? Was I supposed to connect the dots on a murder and not stalk and kill the guy who got away unpunished?”

“Most people would say yes.” Logan groaned, in the sort of tone that said he already knew he was fighting a losing battle.

“We’re not like most people though, are we?” Remus grinned, fluttering his eyelashes.

“You’re most certainly not. I’m barely a person.” Logan replied with finality.

--------------

Case 6: the one who pushed their luck.

And then shortly after; 

“Come on man, don’t do this.” The masked person pleaded, hanging onto the fire-escape for dear life. Literally.

Remus raised an eyebrow, making a show of contemplating the request. “Hmm, I don’t know. You did try to pull a gun on me.”

“It wasn’t loaded, jackass!” 

Remus tutted and held his foot over the person’s clammy hands. They shook violently at the unspoken threat. “And now you’re gonna wake up the whole neighbourhood too? No consideration!”

His joking tone must have angered them, because they began struggling to hoist themself back up again, red in the face with strain. “I swear, when I get up  there-”

Promptly losing his interest in hearing the rest of that threat, Remus stood on their fingers, causing them to let go of the fire-escape and plummet to the street below with a strangled yell.

“Whoopsie daisy.”

He leaned over the banister, whistling innocently as a familiar presence appeared next to him. Logan joined him in peering down at the body, eyebrow raised.

“At least this one was merely an accident?” He guessed by the cause of death, a twinge of hope in his voice.

“Nah, they’ve tried breaking in at least 3 times this year. It was getting annoying.”

As Logan scolded him for his recklessness, Remus decided not to comment on it when their topic of conversation turned back towards the casual banter they usually shared. The two of them stood on the fire escape until the sun was on the edge of the horizon and Remus had to dash back to his apartment to avoid being seen by the early-commuters.

--------------

Case 8: the innocent.

And then: 

Remus curiously nudged the raccoon with the tip of his boot. He’d just stumbled upon it and it still looked fresh; given that he was standing by a busy road, it was no wonder what had happened.

He was making a mental note to come back and collect the bones at a later date, when Logan appeared in-front of him in a blink, looking completely unsurprised this time around.

Remus on the other hand startled before regaining his bearings and shooting the deity a smile. “Our paths are looking less parallel by the day huh, Psychopomp-ous?”

Logan raised his eyebrows appreciatively at the word play. “It appears so. It’s quite the pleasant surprise to find you not getting into trouble for once.”

“There’s always tomorrow.” Remus wiggled his eyebrows back. “That said, I really didn’t expect to see you. I was wondering for a while if you dealt with this kind of thing too, y’know.”

Logan looked down, seeming to really notice the raccoon for the first time. He nodded after a beat. ”She had a life too. My brother brought her into the world, and so I must escort her out.” 

”Yeah? Anything of note happen?” Remus asked, eyebrows raised with genuine curiosity. He’d file away the latter half of Logan’s statement for later prodding.

”...She had a family. They stayed together under the porch of an old couple.”

“Ah, to be a racoon living under a porch.” Remus lamented dreamily. “I’m glad she got to live such a rich and fulfilling life before becoming road kill. I’m truly jealous.”

“In the wild, your lifespan would most likely be around 2–3 years as a raccoon.” Logan pointed out, attempting to contradict his idealistic tone.

“Exactly. The life.”

That earned a pinched expression from Logan that made Remus titter.

“Just messing with you, prim reaper~. Now, do you have any idea how long it’s going to take for her to decompose? I have a new piece of decor to make.”

--------------

Case 11: the matchbox.

Remus watched from afar as the house on Psyche Avenue burned. It was bright and brilliant, so of course the firefighters were already on the scene, trying to calm the fire and save the occupant inside. 

They’d be much too late; the trafficker was already unconscious and likely burning to death, along with any evidence Remus might have left behind. It was the perfect crime.

Satisfied with today’s work, he took a drag of a cigarette, delighted when Logan appeared beside him instead of with the dirtbag who deserved to burn forever (and since it was a mystery whether he'd end up with such a fate, it only seemed fitting for Remus to play god and speed up the process.)

“Those kill, you know.” Logan said in greeting.

“That makes two of us.” Remus grinned sharply, even when Logan rolled his eyes and pinched out the end of his cigarette.

For the second time in a month, the two of them overlooked the sky together, illuminated by the amber blazes of the fire. It almost felt like a date.

--------------

Case 13: the one with bad luck.

He was back in the alley that had imprinted itself so clearly in his memory, knife buried in the chest of a would-be assailant. Remus was boredly watching the blood seep between the bricks when Logan finally appeared to deal with the body.

“You’re late!” Remus complained with a whine. “This guy’s practically cold already.”

“Apologies. There was a flash flood across the country, and it took more of my focus to handle than I would've liked."

Remus hummed. He thought he heard something about that on the news. Mother nature could be cruel indeed. Perhaps even worse than Remus himself. 

“Anyone nearby?” He checked.

“Not in a half-mile radius, no. However, the police may be on their way.” 

“Plenty of time, then.” Remus said as he pulled Logan down to place a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

It had been months since that first drunk sloppy kiss happened, and less time since it had become a regular greeting. Remus would never get tired of the feeling of cold skin against his lips. It was like kissing marble-- if marble had a sassy mouth and a sexy amount of knowledge.

Logan pulled back first, smudging away the trail of blood running from Remus' nostril. “Did you have any trouble?”

“Nah, you should see the other guy.”

That earned a laugh-- a quiet chime that made Remus’ heart flutter. “I see them. Good job, you’re getting rather skilled at that.”

“Why, thank you~.” Remus preened under the praise. “It only took a couple tries, but I think I finally got the technique down pat.”

“Hmm. Speaking of 'Pat', my brother doesn’t seem to like this much. He’s not unappreciative of your choices in target, although he appears to be rather disapproving on the amount of times I've been called to your side."

Logan didn't talk about his brother much: the deity of life. From what little Remus had learned from his prying and Logan’s own complaints, he seemed like a bit of a killjoy. He blew a raspberry in response.

"Tell Patton to stop making so many criminals and maybe I'll consider it." 

The corner of Logan's lips quirked up. "I don't think I will, as humorous as I'm sure that would be. It doesn't quite work like that."

Remus shrugged, watching as Logan looked off to the side.

"...It seems I’m needed elsewhere."

”You can’t stay? We barely got to talk.” Remus said with a pout.

“Unfortunately so.” Logan turned to the body; what he should have been there for. It wasn’t long before his focus was back on Remus, though. “That said... It’s a busy night. Perhaps we’ll meet again sooner than expected.”

Remus’ frown tipped back into a smile as he watched Logan vanish. He then turned on his heel and retrieved his knife before walking off into the night. If he was going to make good on Logan’s expectations, he better get to work.

--------------

Case 0: the one who death followed.

It soon became an established pattern; Remus would come across someone shady, and he’d put together a detailed- or straight-forward- plot on how to get rid of them. By now his city must have noticed the string of deaths, but with such a random means and very little evidence, Remus was free to continue as he pleased.

In a sense, he was untouchable with Logan by his side, pointing out anything he left behind and giving warning for any potential witnesses. Especially when he gave up on persuading Remus away from this path. It's not like the moral argument could be made anymore; the city had seen a drastic decrease in crime once Remus had taken out a lot of big players (even if there was an air of fear that lingered in the back of everyone's minds, wondering if they'd be next up on the chopping block).

All in all, it was enough to make Remus cocky; perhaps even enough so to lead to his downfall. But how was he ever going to give up now? All his life he’d been hoping for some sort of excitement to fulfil him, and he finally found it in a surprise meeting with a deity of death. Death had gone from a distant longing to something familiar and welcome; something he could use to right wrongs and feel a sense of purpose with.

And as long as he was able to exchange a life for one more meeting with his beloved partner in crime, he would do his best to stay ahead of the game. 

(No matter who was out there, trying to stop the two of them.)

-------------- 

Writing taglist: @just-perhaps @sashootkahoot @anxious-l0ser @illogical-immunity @overlad-of-the-snakes @varthandi @whisperinginthevoid @and-this-sword @creamiiteaa-xx

Deityfucker au taglist: @arodynamic-enby @its-the-usda-certified-trashman @overlad-of-the-snakes @aromanticwhore @haha-phrog @hetalianhufflepuff @emeryyleaf @winter-wandering @gaylotusthatexists @8bituin

[tortilla-of-courage]

Thoughts from this weekend:

-One of my friends and I spent at least 15 minutes wandering, lost, around the Ancient Cistern, maybe even half an hour, before figuring out the gem lock. She had given me the answer at the beginning of this wandering, but we didn't try it until she said screw it and used data to look up a guide. ...... I thought it was a boss key door, because it looks like the boss room locks in Twilight Princess. I felt very dumb when we realized that.

-We were playing Cards Against Humanity one night and one of the cards was, something along the lines of 'waking up half-naked in a Denny's parking lot', and I don't remember the conversation, but my best friend ended up saying "Tell the tortilla to add that to the Fast Food AU". I think poor McSky was the guy at the result of that thought. On a slightly different but related note, I realized that with the whole Demmy's thing, Sky is the most likely Link to have fought a god in the Denny's parking lot. Maybe this was part of the original conversation, I don't remember.

-I got back to the Sealed Grounds with the Master Sword (side note, I made it through the other two Silent Realms and only failed twice! Once each! And I survived after tipping off the ones in Eldin for way longer than I logically should have. Very proud of myself.) and I said, out loud, "Well THAT'S new," upon seeing the track Groose laid down. My best friend had asked what happened, I told them, and, upon wondering what else Groose had built, they said he'd started a country. Rebuilt society. Etc. I pointed out there were only two people in this country. "They're the two political factions! Groose is a capitalist and Impa is a communist." My best friend, in an attempt to remember this, then wrote in their sketchbook 'USSR Impa'. So that happened.

There might have be more, but I forgot those thoughts.

Also, I'm at the part where Groose is going to fling me in Faron Woods in the catapult, so that'll be fun. Gonna meet the dragons that my best friend despises. (They don't like the human faces. I, kinda have to agree. I don't like the human faces either.) Also, I have a few random thoughts for the LU SU AU that are currently very unrefined, so I'll probably do so thinking and work on that and let you know what I come up with eventually.

Also, I adore your new AU. That looks like a lot of fun. I'm excited to see where it goes.

-Attllhak

THAT ANCIENT CISTERN DOOR MY BELOATHED.... the first time i played i got stuck because i didn't under the puzzle. i think i wandered around trying combinations for like two days until i finally got it. they DO look like the TP ones i can't blame you

THE MCSKY THING DKDNNDKDL im crying... cah gives us so many gems like that, I'll definitely keep it in mind - and he WOULD throw hands with Demise in the parking lot of the Demmy's so it all checks out

woo! good job with the silent realms! god Eldin's can be... difficult sometimes dfnrksns AND COMMUNIST IMPA I..... idk what kills me more communist impa or capitalist groose they're both amazing

the dragons faces creep me out sometimes tbh. i know they're based off some region's dragons that have humanlike faces too but still.

And I'd love to hear the LU SU AU thoughts whenever they're ready to share!! love that AU sm... and the companions AU is a lot of fun so far! im not sure which direction to take it in yet - i'm more of a crack stories author but i feel it could have potential for more, but im not sure if I'll be able to flesh it out

[misomilk]

the new game has been giving me so many stony feelings so i just HAD to write something!!!!

The Diary [AO3] Pairing: Steve Rogers x Tony Stark AU: Marvel’s Avengers Word Count: ~2.3k Summary: Steve wonders about Tony reading his diary. He couldn't really have read it...could he?

He didn’t really read his diary...did he?

To the others, it’s been five years, but to Steve it was just a few days ago that he had last written an entry on it. It’s not that he kept a diary to note down all the fluttery feelings he felt for his fellow Avenger. Most entries were akin to those he’d write on mission reports. Things he did well, things he should’ve done better. But few and far between, there would be glimpses of his feelings for Tony.

Steve can still remember what his entry about Tony’s jokes was.

Tony said more than a few jokes during today’s mission. I didn’t get them. Then he drew roses around the page, because Steve knew if he found the courage to speak his feelings, he’d be giving the genius a bouquet a day.

He drew flowers on the same pages he ever mentioned Tony. Blue violets, daisies, pansies. Thank God his drawings of Tony’s portraits were in a separate sketchbook and not in the diary. When the bean bag or mission reports weren’t enough to calm him down at night, it was thinking of Tony and etching his image on paper that helped soothe him through the night.

Then Steve remembered there were a few, more sentimental entries, too.

Like that night they spent together at the tower penthouse, gazing at the sky, watching planes go by, talking about the smallest things. Tony surprisingly didn’t drink a drop of alcohol, but he talked so much. About his life, about his father, about how much he wanted the world to be at peace. Steve wanted to take him in his arms then. Dance with him, maybe, if there was music. Steve wanted to tell him he was his world, but the sun had come up before he had summoned the courage to do so.

He drew tulips on that page.

God. It really was a love diary, wasn’t it? Masked with non-Tony entries, but it really was. And Tony read it? Tony read it? No way… He couldn’t have. What were the chances Tony went through his things, and got the hold of it? Unsure. What were the chances Tony read every single entry upon finding said diary? Highly likely. Tony’s curiosity led him to no bounds.

Did Tony find the diary? Did he read it? If it wasn’t 25 past two in the morning, Steve would strut down to Tony’s room and ask for answers now. But he’ll have to settle for doing that first thing in the morning. Instead, thoughts threatened to haunt Steve throughout the night. But he managed to keep them at bay as he drew Tony’s face on a new sketchbook-- his face when he found him.

The first face he saw since waking up. If Steve closed his eyes, he could still picture it. The worry in Tony’s eyes, mixed with a hint of relief, the way his eyes wouldn’t pull away from him. His arms around him when he caught him--hugged him. It was as if he was still dreaming. Being so close to Tony was the most surreal thing to have happened to him. Even more than finding out he was stuck in space for the past five years or so. Tony Stark had been the first thing he saw upon opening his eyes, and that has been a dream Steve has wished for since he realized his feelings for him.

And then thoughts about the diary filtered into his brain yet again. With a sigh, he set the sketchbook down beside him and got settled into bed, hoping sleep would claim him so morning would come faster.

***

“Looking a little stiff there, you feeling all right?”

Steve swallowed. It’s finally morning and here he’s found himself at Tony’s room, right before breakfast. “Sure. Never better.”

Tony smirks. “Uh-huh.” “I’m fine.” Steve hoped his response was less frigid than it felt.

“That was so convincing.” Tony turned back to what he was working on at the center of his room. It looked like a weapon. “Thanks for putting my mind at ease.”

Was that one of Tony’s jokes just now? Steve sighed, stepping in a little further into the room. It’s messy, but feels homey. A lot like Tony.

“Can I… help you, Cap?”

“Yes, well,” Steve gathered the courage to ask what he wanted. And that’s when he noticed it in the corner, hanging upon one of the closets. Wrinkled and old, but definitely once Steve’s. “Is that my jacket?”

“Uh, well… After you died, I wanted to… honor you.”

Don’t get your hopes up. Steve told himself, but his heart was already fluttering. “I was dead.”

“Hey, let me grieve at my own pace.”

Steve laughed softly, smiling at the jacket. That Tony would keep with him something Steve always used to wear to remember him by making his heart soar. Then he remembered again. The diary. If Tony managed to find this jacket, surely he would’ve found the diary. Ask him. Ask him. “Tony?”

“Yes?”

“Did you really read my diary?”

The screwing on of bolts halted. Steve turned to Tony to see that he’d stopped tinkering with the thing on his desk.

“Tony?”

Silence followed before Tony spoke. “Why do you wanna know?”

Steve lifted an eyebrow. “Why aren’t you answering the question?”

Tony’s eyes darted at Steve’s, then immediately looked away. And if Steve knew better, he’d realize Tony was actually blushing. “Look, Cap, I’m sorry, okay? I know it’s a breach of privacy, or whatever.” Now it was Steve’s turn to blush. He felt the heat down to the crane of his neck. “So you did.”

“I--”

It was rare to see Tony so out of words when he was always ready for the wittiest remark. Steve didn’t know what to make of it. Did Tony despise what he read in it that much? Or did he like it? What did he feel now, knowing Steve had written about him in his diary, and drew flowers around his name?

***

Read it? Tony basked in it. Every single day of his life since the day his world went away, he drowned himself in the world Steve saw through his eyes. And when Tony realized there were entries about him, entries about him with flowers etched along the edges for Christ’s sake, what was he to do? Grieve over the chance he missed, living a life full of love with the man who had his affections, that’s what. Because Steve was gone.

Steve was gone. But he came back, and he found him, and now he’s here. And what did Tony do? Run away with his tail between his legs, that’s what. How was he supposed to approach Steve? Hey, I read your diary. You have feelings for me? I have feelings for you, too. Let’s get together. Not exactly the best way to woo someone. But maybe Tony should’ve taken it, because then he wouldn’t have to be in this awkward conversation right now.

“I know I shouldn’t have read it.” Tony sighed, putting a hand on his head. He could swear it was starting to ache. “But I didn’t know what it was at first. It wasn’t like it had a label on it, you know? Steve’s Diary, do not read.”

“But you read it.” “Yes, Captain Obvious. I’ve only said it like, a million times.” Tony rolled his eyes and looked at Steve then. Steve. Steve was blushing . Even the tips of his ears were red, and he looked so adorable Tony’s reactor could leap out of his chest. “Steve? You okay, buddy?”

“I don’t know what to say, Tony.” Steve walked towards the wall, leaning against it for balance. “You… You know now, don’t you?”

Tony played coy. “Know what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know ,” Steve seemed to speak against his teeth. “What I wrote, how I-- and you--”

A moment of silence seemed to stretch on for eternity before Steve finally said the next word.

“What am I doing? How could I be so stupid?”

Tony blinked, wondering how Steve went from blushing to rushing out his door. “What? Steve? Hey, wait.” He immediately stood up and caught Steve by the arm before he could pass through the door. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t like me.” Steve looked into Tony’s eyes then, standing at the door to his room in his lounge pants and shirt, so much hurt, so much raw pain. It hurt Tony’s heart the same, itching static between his body and reactor. “Not the way I like you.”

Tony couldn’t correct him, even if he wanted to. His actions the past few days spoke louder for him than his true feelings.

“You know what you read in my diary. I like you, Tony. I really do. But you-- You just brush it off like you never read a word of it.” Though a few inches taller than Tony, Steve looked so small and so dejected. Steve shook his head and looked away. “I’m sorry. I never should’ve brought this up. I promise I’ll be professional when I see you at breakfast.”

“No, Steve, wait!” Tony’s hands latched onto Steve’s arms, making him turn towards him again. Tears started to run down Steve’s face, and Tony wished he could tear out his reactor right now so it would mend the pain. “Steve…”

Steve pushed Tony away lightly, rubbing his hands across his eyes. He laughed dryly. “Look at me, a grown man crying over a silly crush.”

“That’s not true, Steve…” Tony held the other’s hands in his then, looking into his eyes. “I-- Honestly, I don’t know what you see in me. I’m an idiot.”

“Do you or don’t you make a point of how smart you are every single day of your life?” Steve smirked, though it quickly disappeared as he sobbed. Tony led Steve away from the door and towards his bed where he let Steve cry out his feelings. Once Steve was a little calmer, Tony stood up and sat on the other’s lap. The other’s eyes quickly widened in surprise, jaw dropping in shock.  “Uhm… Tony?”

Tony tried not to notice the flush of heat rising in his cheeks. “Look, I’m not so good at talking--”

That made Steve huff a laugh. “You? Not good at talking?” “I know, I know. I can barely keep my mouth shut. But I’m not good when it comes to, you know, talking about the real things.”

“Real things...?”

Tony wrapped his arms around Steve’s shoulders then, drinking in the other’s clear blue eyes as he spoke his words slowly, with much certainty. “Like how I feel about you.”

Steve’s jaw dropped again, and Tony swore he could just lean down and kiss him right then and there. “Which is…?”

“I like you, too, Cap.” Tony leaned down to press their foreheads together. All he could see were Steve’s sweet eyes, and his world was a little brighter. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick and that I avoided talking to you about your diary. I just-- I wasn’t ready.”

“Hmm,” Steve mumbled, and Tony could swear he felt that rumble against his throat from how close they were. He felt hands settle themselves on Tony’s hips, and Tony decided then to sit a little higher on the other’s thighs. “And are you? Ready now?”

“Maybe?” Tony’s eyes fluttered, the warmth of Steve’s hands on his hips surreal. He could feel a finger or two slip underneath his shirt and he gave away a soft moan. “If you are?”

“I am.”

Their lips found each other barely a moment later. Steve’s lips were so much softer than Tony could ever imagine. He closed his eyes, mastering the feeling of Steve’s lips against his as they kissed over and over and over. He bit down on Steve’s lower lip, which caused the other to gasp loud. And with the other’s mouth open, he took the chance to slip his tongue into the other’s, kissing him gently, with all the love he felt.

“Tony…” Steve moaned against his lips, and it rang sweetly in his ears.

“Steve…”

“Hey, Tony. Have you seen Cap? Breakfast is r---WHOA MY GOSH!! I’m so sorry!!!” Kamala had come into Tony’s room, causing their kiss to abruptly end as the two stared at the door in horror. Kamala stood there, hands over her eyes. “So all the Stony fanfiction were right after all? That’s so rad!!”

“Weren’t you the one who said something about knocking, hmm?” Tony teased her as he reluctantly stood up from Steve’s lap. “You can open your eyes now, little one.”

“Right! Okay! Sorry!” Kamala had the brightest smile as she put her hands down. She pointed towards the kitchen area of the ship. “Anyways, it’s breakfast time. Come once you’re ready?”

“Will do.”

“Good morning, Cap!!”

“Good morning, Kamala.”

With that she was out of the room. “Hey Nat! You’ll never guess what I saw.”

“Oh, boy.” Tony laughed, seeing Natasha standing right outside his door with a smirk on her face. “I guess the cat’s outta the bag already. And here I was hoping we could keep it under wraps for at least… a few hours?” Tony was surprised when a pair of arms wrapped around his waist, and lips pressed against his neck. “Ooh… I--I think I really like this development.”

“So do I.” Steve smiled against his neck before pressing one more kiss. “You can’t take back what you said, Tony.”

“No worries. I had no plans to.”

“After breakfast, do you think we could..”

“Yeah?” “Continue from where we left off?”

Tony turned around to see Steve blushing to the tips of his ears yet again. He smiled, and pulled his lover down to kiss him on the lips. “Of course, love. Anything you want.”

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

No Matter Where You Go, No Matter What Happens - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson Summary: Damian had given up on the family, given up on the Bats. But there was one who he thought he’d lost, who’d never give up on him. A/N: Apparently my new thing is to ignore all the ideas I’ve been building in my head or long fics I’ve started to write garbage in two hours and post it. Cool. Could be seen as kind of? a sequel to Missing The Obvious, but also not really. But the same idea of that fic/what happened in that one is what I carry into this one, if that makes sense. But you don’t have to read that one! Just have to kind of know about Damian’s current turmoil in canon. I dunno. more trash from me woo-hoo~

~~

It was without warning, that his phone started blowing up.

It was Tim. Jason. Cassandra. Stephanie. Even a few from Barbara Gordon. And that proved its seriousness – Barbara never texted him, even in emergencies.

But he didn’t read them. Didn’t care to. He’d separated himself from the family months ago. Took his own path, one unobstructed by his father or mother. One entirely his own. He knew he didn’t have their blessing, not from anyone he considered family, but he also didn’t ask for it. Didn’t want it.

No one had contacted him since he left, which was good. Even when it stung, when he thought he might miss them, it was good, because that meant for once in his life – they listened to him.

But now, all of the sudden, it was like his attention was all they wanted. He scoffed as his phone buzzed again, and he whooshed the notification away without even glancing at its content.

Too little too late.

It’d been a week of this. A week of buzzing, of ringtones, of voicemails and texts. But it was fine, he’d already trained his brain to ignore it as white noise.

He almost laughed the day it became more than that. When he was sitting on the balcony, completing some research, when he heard his phone come to life inside the apartment. When he heard it start speaking.

“I…” It crackled. Damian smirked. About time they thought about remotely accessing the device. “I think I got it, Jay…”

Tim, of course. But still, Damian didn’t rush to answer it. Barely even turned his head towards the sound.

“Damian, if you can hear me, please just listen.” Tim begged. There was static on the line. “…bered, okay? He remembered and he wants to find you. Talk…you. We told him about your…gone the next morning. So, just…just so you know?”

“And don’t fucking attack him either, got it?” Jason chimed in angrily. “We told him your request…never fucking listened in the first place.”

“…mian, if you’re there, plea…ust let us know you got this, okay?” Tim continued, like Jason hadn’t interrupted. “That’s all we’re ask…you’re doing well, kid.”

The static took over his voice for a second, and then the phone went silent once more. Damian just snorted and went back to his research.

~~

The attempts to contact him stopped immediately after the message, and Damian didn’t care enough to remember anything Tim’s half-delivered message entailed. Whatever it was, he could handle it, surely.

So he wasn’t thinking about it, when he went into town a few days later and mulled around a farmers’ market. Didn’t think about it when he bought a bushel of fresh apples, and went to the nearby park to snack while he sketched the simple scene in front of him.

Didn’t think about it because for once, he was at peace. Calm. Settled.

But he should have known better. Because peace never lasts very long.

Somewhere nearby, in his periphery, he saw someone stop in the middle of the crowd, and stand there longer than normal. Frozen, clearly not looking at one of the nearby stalls. Damian took note of the person’s presence, but otherwise did nothing. Unless they attacked someone or pulled out a weapon, a person being strange was no reason to be alarmed.

“…Damian?”

Oh, well maybe that was.

He tightened the grip on his pencil as he looked up, but almost dropped the utensil instantly. Because the person who had stopped in the crowd, the person acting strangely, was none other than Dick Grayson.

“He remembered and he wants to find you.”

…Oh.

“Damian?” He asked again, taking a step forward. Damian just stared at him dumbly. Because with one word, with just one name, Damian knew it wasn’t Ric. It wasn’t the cabbie his older brother had become in the amnesia. With just the sound of his name he knew it was his brother. It was the Richard Grayson he knew and adored.

“…Grayson?” Damian whispered back. A grin instantly broke out on Dick’s face, but there was instantly something wrong with it, like it was being weighed down. Like it wasn’t allowed to exist.

“I found you.” Dick breathed, and instantly his eyes began to well up with tears. “I…I found you. I was starting to think I wouldn’t, was just thinking I should go home, but I didn’t…I didn’t want to give up on you. I didn’t…”

Suddenly, Dick inhaled a shaky breath and began wiping at his eyes with his fists, like a child might.

Damian’s eyes widened when he saw the first tear drop onto Dick’s collar. “Grayson…?”

“I…I remembered and I came home.” He sobbed. “But…but you weren’t there, and no one would tell me where you’d gone. It took…it took them a fucking week to tell me you’d left, and why, and what happened and I just…”

Dick curled in on himself, and without warning, dropped to his knees, right in the middle of the farmers’ market. Damian instantly jumped up, letting his sketchbook and pencils fall to the ground, and ran to his brother’s side. His own knees had barely touched the ground when Dick lashed out, dragging Damian into his arms, and hiding his wet face against his neck.

People were starting to stare. Damian ignored them.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured. “If I’d have been there, I’d have never let Bruce treat you that way. Or the Titans. Or the family.” He squeezed Damian’s shoulders. “I’d have stayed with you, or…or you could have stayed with me. We could have figured this out together. I’d have helped you. I’d have listened. I wouldn’t have let you be alone.”

Despite his shock at the moment, at the complete breakdown, at the situation, Damian felt himself smile. “I know, Grayson. It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

But Dick was shaking his head. “When I remembered everything, I remembered you first. And I came straight to Gotham because I knew…” A pause, to blubber a little. “Because I thought you’d be there.” A watery exhale. “I just wanted to see you so bad, Damian. After…after everything, I just wanted to see you.”

Damian closed his eyes, wrapped his arms around Dick’s back. “Well. I’m here now. I hope that’s alright.”

Dick tried to laugh, but it came out wrong.

“And I won’t…I’m not here to force you back to Gotham. I won’t do that to you.” Another squeeze, and Damian almost had to grunt in pain. “I just wanted…I just needed to see you. After everything.”

Damian merely rubbed at his brother’s back. “…Thank you, Grayson.” He hummed. “Thank you for coming after me.”

“As if I ever wouldn’t.” Dick promised, voice almost angry. “And trust me, I gave Bruce a piece of my mind for not doing the same. For pushing you away in the first place.”

Reluctantly, Damian pushed Dick back, holding his arms as he stared up at his red, tear-stained face. “You look ridiculous.”

“Yeah, well.” Dick pouted, sniffing and running his sleeve across his eyes. “You go spend two weeks looking for your brother, afraid the whole time that you’re never going to find him or see him again.”

“I should not be on that high of a pedestal in your life, Grayson.” Damian laughed.

“God, kid, I’d hope you’d believe me by now.” Dick scolded, cupping Damian’s face in his hands. “You mean the whole damn world to me. Always have and always will. No matter what the rest of our family and friends do or say. Bruce included.” A thoughtful pause. “Bruce especially.”

Damian felt his face heat up, the sentiment almost too much to bear. He’d…forgotten, what it was like to be cared about. Quite frankly, the lack of Grayson reminding him so every second of every day is how he ended up on this shattered, lonely path in the first place.  “…How long will you be in town?”

“For however long you’ll have me.” Dick swore, wiping at his eyes one last time. “I haven’t seen you in almost two years, Damian. A few days might not be long enough.”

“Stay as long as you want, then. Forever is fine.” Damian grinned. “We’ll have to get more food from the market, though.”

“Whatever you want to do, I’m with you every step of the way. Honestly, you’re stuck with me, for now.” He gently stroked his thumbs across Damian’s cheeks. “…I love you, kiddo.”

“I love you too, Grayson.” Damian said confidently. He pulled out of Dick’s hands and stood, offering a hand to Dick to help him up. Dick took it, stood, and immediately enveloped Damian back in his arms, pressing a long kiss to Damian’s forehead.

“I missed you so much.” Dick whispered into his hair. “So, so, so much.”

Damian leaned up into the embrace. “I missed you too, Grayson.” Then childishly: “Please don’t leave me again, even if it’s just through amnesia.”

“I’ll do everything in my power.” Dick promised. He held Damian for a moment, and they let the sounds of the market wash over them. Finally, hesitantly, Dick let go, stepping over to pick up Damian’s abandoned art supplies and remaining apples. “So. Where to first?”

“Back to the fruit stand.” Damian smirked. “I’m sure you didn’t eat much in the way of healthy foods in your life as a Bludhaven cabbie.”

Dick grinned at the barb. “Brat.” He laughed, wrapping his arm around Damian’s shoulders as they disappeared back into the crowd.

[goggles-mcgee]

A Little Birdy Told Me pt. 2

AAAAAAAAA thank you guys so much for all of the support this has gotten! I hope you guys enjoy!

“Batsy, I know you’re mad about the shop window, but my Daffo-Doll and I had to talk to you about somethin’ really concernin’” Harley said as she hid her mallet behind her back, as though the vigilante wouldn’t notice it.

 “I tried to tell her to wait until one of you guys came out but that would have taken too long. Call this a speed dial.” Ivy explained as she played with a blossoming marigold in her hand. She couldn’t help but look at it fondly, it reminded her of Marinette, and since that’s what they wanted to discuss with him, her thoughts kept drifting to the heartbreaking sobs her and Harley had heard on their way home from a date night. Harley had taken her to her favorite Thai restaurant and had actually tried one of the vegetarian dishes with her. The real surprise was that Harley actually like it. It had been such a good night but then they heard the crying and had found that poor girl crying in the alleyway. Ivy had been a bit wary but seeing Marinette and actually talking to her, she couldn’t help but already love the child, and it helped that her plans seemed to like the child too. She had never seen them be protective of anyone besides her, Harley, and Lucy when she would come to visit.

 “And what’s the reason for this…” speed dial” Ivy?” The Bat asked, always to the point.

 “We ran into a tourist today,” Ivy began.

 “Her name is Marinette and she is literal sunshine!” Harley interrupted.

 “And she was left behind at her class twice today. She said they probably forgot her, but Harley thinks they may have done it on purpose.” Ivy explained as she examined Batman, looking for any kind of sign that he would take this seriously, because if not she was not above throwing him over the side of the building.

 It was silent for a couple minutes before Batman nodded and looked at Harley as he crossed his arms. “Why do you think they did it on purpose, Quinn?”

 Harley huffed and walked over to the Bat, her frown deepened as she explained everything that she had told Ivy, her behavior was a clear warning, or so Harley said. Ivy always loved when Harley showed her psychologist side. She listened to her explain more about Marinette’s body language before she finally told him about how they found her near Crime Alley. That’s when his usually stoic face broke out in a frown.

 “How old did you say she was?” He asked.

 “She’s 15, she’s 15 and her teacher didn’t even notice she forgot her and left her behind in one of th most crime filled cities in the world. You can understand why this worries us.” Ivy growled at the thought of them abandoning sweet Marinette again. “We just wanted to let you know in case they happen to “forget” her again.”

 “I’ll look into it.” And with that the Bat was gone. Ivy hoped beyond anything that the next time her and Harley ran into Marinette, it would be under safer and happier circumstances.

 __________________________________________________

A shrill ringing boke the peaceful sleep Marinette had been having but she knew she had to get up earlier than normal if she didn’t want to be “forgotten” again. She quickly took a shower and dressed herself in some pink shorts that were designed to look like her usual capris, white tights, a grey cardigan with a pink and white polka dotted pocket on the right breast, underneath that was a white t-shirt with her usual apple blossom design on it. She slipped on her pink flats before she grabbed her usual purse and a small backpack that had her sketchbook, some pens and pencils, a water bottle, a small first aid kit, and some cookies in it. She would worry about breakfast once she knew she was in no danger of being left behind again, and she would grab some sugar cubes for Kaalki while she was at it.

 Once she was downstairs she made sure to ask the front desk if her class had left yet, she was relieved to hear that they had not yet so she made her way to the restaurant where there was complimentary breakfast, she grabbed a probably stale blueberry muffin, a banana, apple juice and some sugar cubes before she went back to the lobby and sat on one of the couches nearest to the door and munched awat on breakfast. She shared some of the muffin with the kwamis in her small purse as she waited for more people to come down and wait for the bus to arrive. The first of her classmates to come down was Max, she smiled and waved at him and he returned the gesture as he made his way to brab breakfast before joining her on the couch.

 “There’s a 99.3% chance the world is going to end today, you’re early for something.” He joked.

 Marinette laughed and shook her head; she was happy when she had found out that Max was on her side after he did research after the whole napkin incident. He had apologized for days before Marinette had convinced him that she wasn’t mad and forgave him. “Yeah, I didn’t want a repeat of what happened yesterday.”

 Max frowned and shook his head, it was easy to tell he was annoyed, “We tried to tell Madame Bustier that you were on your way down, but Lila managed to convince her to just go. She didn’t even listen to Kim, Alix, and I.”

 “It’s not your guys’ fault.”

 “We know but that doesn’t make what they did any better, Marinette. Markov even tried to talk some sense into Madame Bustier, but she threatened to lock him away in room for the remainder of the trip.”

 Now it was Marinette’s turn to frown, “She shouldn’t have done that, he was just trying to help. Where is he now?”

 “In our room, I asked if he wanted to come today but he said he didn’t have the patience to deal with Madame and Lila, I left him with the video games Kim and I brought though so he should be entertained till we get back for our free time after the tour.” Max explained as Kim jogged over to them.

 “Nettie! Wow the world must be ending.”

 Marinette huffed out a laugh as she threw the wrapper from her muffin at Kim. He easily deflected it and threw it back at her as he sat next to Max on the couch. The three of them continued to talk till they heard wheels on the marble floor and groaning before they saw Alix plop herself on the chair next to them. They all laughed at their friend, who was as much a morning person as Marinette was.

 “When did you get back, Nettie?” Alix asked once she was more awake and drinking a large cup of black coffee.

 “Late. I don’t even know the actual time. My phone died on my way back.”

 “What? Are you okay did anything happen?” Kim fussed over her, the action making her giggle.

 “I’m fine Kim, I got some help back to the hotel.” She carefully left out the fact that it was Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn that had been the ones to help her back. She didn’t want her friends to worry more than they already had, and she really didn’t want to explain how they found her and everything. The group continued talking until everyone arrived. Marinette could see that Adrien was going to approach her, but Lila latched onto his arm like a leash. It was the one time in her life Marinette had ever wanted to thank Lila. Talking with Adrien always meant an argument nowadays. She doesn’t know what started it but if she had to guess it probably happened around the same time, she found out his was Chat Noir. She hadn’t meant to find out, but it was during a particularly difficult akuma. The fight had gone on for over an hour, as soon as they were done, she rushed off home, barely managing to transform back on her balcony, just as she was about to go into her room Chat Noir landed on her balcony after transforming back mid jump. It had to have hurt, and Marinette would have rushed over to make sure he was okay, if it hadn’t been for the fact that she had just watched Chat Noir turn into Adrien.

 His groaning had shaken her out of her shock, and she had quickly ran over to make sure he was okay. The next couple of days had been awkward, they barely talked to each other, and she didn’t even think she could form her usual nonsense sentences. But after a long talk they started to get close, but Marinette hadn’t told him she was Ladybug. It was a good thing she didn’t, she had to hear him talk over and over again about how they were meant to be and that Ladybug was just being stubborn and blind. The more they spoke about it, the more Marinette realized Adrien wouldn’t fall for just her, it was disheartening but she figured she was better as a friend to him.

 But that didn’t last, Ladybug had once again rejected Chat Noir and Adrien had had it or so it seemed, then he had tried to kiss her. She tried to make it clear that it wasn’t okay to do that so soon, plus the fact that she didn’t like him like that. Something must have been lost in translation or something because he started trying to “woo” her. What didn’t help the situation was Alya thinking she was helping Marinette out by announcing to the class that she had had the biggest crush on Adrien. After that, Adrien wouldn’t take no for an answer, no matter how much she explained she didn’t like him.

 It escalated to the fact that she had to get a new phone number and make entirely different social media accounts. It wasn’t just him that led her to those suggestions, but he was a big factor. Then he broke into her room and tried to make her go on a date with him. That was a bad night, she had yelled for him to let her go as he tried to pull her through her skylight door, but thankfully her papa heard her and he came running upstairs and had punched Chat Noir away from her. She could tell that it hadn’t deterred Chat because he just blew her a kiss and said he would return. That night was the first time in a long time that Marinette had slept in her parent’s bed with them. They could hear Chat come back an hour later, he stayed up in her room for about thirty minutes, then they heard the latch door to her room open, all three held their breaths, strained their ears to listen if he was going to come down, but they heard her door close and waited before they even thought about relaxing.

 She was brought out of the thought when she felt herself being dragged onto the bus by Kim, he made sure to take her to the back rows and place her by a window, as a way to protect her, he had explained. When they had first got in to Gotham, Marinette had taken the aisle seat so that Kim could sleep, there was a lot of “dropped” things on her, including drinks. She shot him a grateful smile.

 “You excited to see more of Wayne tower today?” She asked as she leaned her head on the window.

 “You know it! That place was so awesome. I just wish you could have seen it yesterday…”

 “It’s okay, I’m going today, plus Max said that Markov recorded everything for me to see later.”

 “I forgot he did that! I’ll have to ask him to send me some of the footage, I promised Ondine I would send her pictures and such.”

 Mari smiled slyly as she elbowed Kim gently while wiggling her eyebrows, “How’s that going by the way?”

 Kim laughed and shoved her face away playfully before he sighed dreamily. “She’s the best Nettie! Did I tell you what she gave me before we left?”

 “No, what?”

 He held up his wrist and tapped the capsule, “We switched bracelets, inside is little messages to each other. She’s so smart Nettie, I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

 The rest of the ride was spent talking about Ondine, and Max talking about the newest updates to his game and trying to talk Alix out of doing graffiti while they were in Gotham. All in all it was a good start to the day.

  ____________________________________________________

Sam I Am @gothamite4lifebby

A bus just passed by me and I looked inside and made eye contact with this girl who had black hair and blue eyes…did…did I just spot a new Wayne? #onlyingotham #shitimlateforworkagain

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I hope I got everyone, let me know if I missed anyone

[my-miraculous-headcanons]

In the Marry That Girl AU I particularly like the idea of Hawkmoth being super protective of his adrienette ship. Does he make any effort to keep his akuma villains from bothering Marinette, or does he simply keep his attention on beating up Chat?

Let’s take a look, why don’t we?

There was many things he was expecting to find when he had searched Adrien’s room that night. A good book, dirty magazines, hell, even drugs was a possible option, considering just how strange Adrien was during dinner. 

He didn’t expect to find some book a teenaged girl made, fantasizing about some future she could have with his son. 

At first, he wasn’t impressed. In fact, he was rather displeased, scorning whatever girl thought she was worthy of sharing a future with Adrien. But, he concedes that Mlle. Dupain-Cheng was one of the more worthy girls in his son’s life, being such a talented designer. Her wedding dress, in particular, he can’t help but praise, especially considering it’s the work of a teenaged girl. 

Flipping through the pages, he didn’t understand why Adrien seemed so over the moon and distracted over these silly drawings. They didn’t capture his perfection, and the designs for the different occupations weren’t exactly anything to be proud of.

He understood when he saw the three children.

He understood when he saw the daughter, looking so similar to his late wife. 

He understood when he saw that the daughter was named after his late wife.

He had went to the beginning of the sketchbook, now with a new outlook, and flipped through it once more, wiping away stray tears from his eyes. This wasn’t just some girl’s fantasies. This was a future. 

Those three children were his future grandchildren.

That wedding suit was the suit his son was going to wear when he got married.

That girl, Marinette Dupain-Cheng… She was his future daughter-in-law.

Carefully, he placed the sketchbook back on Adrien’s desk, then left. He understood Adrien’s daze now, feeling like he, himself, was simply moving through the motions. Head full of cotton and feet walking on clouds.

He wakes up the next morning damned determined to protect that future his son clearly wanted.

He wasn’t obvious about it, not at first. Adrien seemed to be doing fine, wooing the girl on his own, though he certainly didn’t need to do so considering the sketchbook she had put together. The two teenagers were clearly coming closer and closer together, and it was only a matter of time before they took the first step towards their future. 

But then he happened. 

It wasn’t too long of an interaction. The video was only three minutes long, and of those three minutes, the two had spoken for only a few seconds. But the exchange happened, and that… That, he cannot allow. 

“Ah, Marinette, my darling princess, you shouldn’t have!”

Chat Noir’s annoying mug grins through the computer screen, plucking the baton from Marinette’s hands. The girl rolls her eyes, but smiles in return, which only serves to make Gabriel’s anger burn.

“Oh, handsome knight, whatever would you do without me?”

Chat Noir laughs. “Fight weaponless, I suppose. Stay safe, princess, I got an akuma to beat.”

How dare that tomcat flirt with his future daughter-in-law! Adrien’s future wife! In jest or not, this action is utterly inexcusable! A personal attack against his family! He won’t have it!

For the next few akumas, he specifically directs them to attack Chat Noir head-on. He belatedly realises that he hasn’t requested to capture the Miraculous for quite some time, but that’s fine, since at this point the deal is pretty much implied anyways. All of Paris knows exactly what he wants, right?

Besides. As much as he loves his wife, he still has the time to bring her back. He doesn’t have the time to wait and allow that mangy cat to steal his future daughter-in-law’s heart! It’s absolutely imperative that he stops that feline as soon as possible! For his family’s sake! For Adrien’s sake!

For the sake of his future granddaughter!

(…Hm. He probably shouldn’t play favourites regarding his grandchildren, now that he thinks about it. It’s not very befitting of an Agreste. He has time to work on that, thankfully.)

A month later, Chat Noir seems to finally have learned his lesson, so he ceases his directed attacks. The cat no longer seeks out Marinette, no longer calls her pet names, no longer flirts in her presence. And all the while, Adrien continues to grow closer and closer to the girl. (Though, he does seem rather tired. He’ll make sure to wait until after school is over from now on when sending an akuma in that general direction— Gabriel doesn’t want to have a hand in Adrien falling behind in his studies.)

As soon as the rigorous month of non-stop akumas is over, he hosts another contest for the young teenaged designers of Paris, knowing full-well that Mlle. Dupain-Cheng would be entering. Knowing her skilled work, he expects her to place in the top five.

He’s already selected the model she’ll be working with when she wins a position. Adrien will thank him later, he’s sure.

By ‘later’, he means on their wedding day, of course.

~Years Later~

“Hey, Adrien?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever find it weird that akuma villains avoid us like the plague?”

Gabriel, who had been sitting with them at the dinner table, chokes on his tea.

“Ah! Father, are you alright?!”

[aizawasbedtimestories]

Masterpost (Discontinued thanks to Tumblr)

In order of belonging & release | Please note that there are some requests listed which are still stuck in the queue so some links may appear empty for now. | If you find a link not functioning, please let me know!

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Headcanons

[ Lemon ] Signs that he’s horny

How he deals with his S/O’s mood swings & cravings while pregnant

Shouta finding a stray but stubborn cat

Shouta reacting to his S/O being a prostitute

Shouta waiting for his S/O at the aisle

Shouta getting turned back into a child

Shouta dealing with his highly artistic S/O

Shouta and the topic of his hair

[ Lemon ] Prostitute!Aizawa AU

Yakuza!Aizawa Shouta AU

What Shouta likes about his S/O body and what gets him into the mood

Shouta reacting to his students finding out his s/o is a prostitute

Shouta and his fellow teacher S/O

Shouta and his wife

Getting into a relationship with Shouta

Shouta and Fatherhood

Shouta and his s/o struggling with their gender identity

Aizawa Shouta and the Lemon-ish topic of hair 2

Shouta and his best friend!S/O

Shouta with a clingy and cuddly partner

Aizawa Shouta cuddling HCs

Shouta with a flirtatious co-worker crush

Shouta with an extremely doting s/o

Shouta and his Journalis!S/O who gets in trouble (a lot)

Shouta and his nonbinary Florist!S/O

Shouta and his s/o aiming for an art teacher degree

Shouta as father of twins

Shouta and his ballerina s/o

Shouta’s neighbor being a big baker and bringing him breakfast every morning to make sure he eats

Shouta’s s/o delivering their first child

Shouta getting close to a morally grey character

Domestic Shouta and his wife on their honeymoon HCs

Shouta wooing a shy and nervous girl

Shouta with a musically talented s/o

Shouta reacting to his admirer having a slip-up

Shouta dealing with the heartbreak after his s/o turns out to be a villain

Shouta falling in love with a s/o with a unpredictable, powerful quirk

[ Yandere ] Shouta getting obsessed with the reader

Domestic HC’s for Shouta, his wife, and daughter

Shouta dealing with his cute and adorable s/o in his relationship

Shouta with a s/o who daydreams a lot

Shouta with a s/o who speaks spanish on occassion

Shouta with a s/o that teases him in front of the class

Shouta and his s/o having to gain intel on the LoV in a bar

Shouta falling in love with another pro-hero couple

Shouta with a s/o with really weird dreams

[ Yandere ] Shouta rewarding a good Reader

Dad!Shouta rebuilding the relationship with his daughter

[ Lemon ] Shouta having wet dreams and a supportive of them s/o

~ More to come ~

______________________________________________________________

Scenarios

Shouta reacting to his S/O worrying about telling him about her OCD

Shouta comforting his S/O after a hard day of work & catching a cold

[ Lemon  ] Shouta coming home to his S/O playing with herself

Making up after a fight with his S/O

[ Lemon  ] Shouta receiving dirty texts from his s/o while teaching

[ Lemon  ] Taking in a stranger for the night

[ Lemon  ] Shouta punishing his s/o after an argument

Shouta taking in a stray cat & it turns out to be a shapeshifter

Shouta and his s/o carving pumpkins

Shouta being cuddly in his time off

Shouta being turned into vampire and craving his S/O’s blood

Shouta finding about his S/O’s miscarriage

Shouta’s S/O hijacking his sleeping bag

Shouta finding his altruistic s/o beat up after a fight

Shouta’s S/O showing his class their baby

[ Lemon ] Part 2 of Taking in a stranger for the night

Meeting each other in a crowded coffee shop

Playful reader putting flowers into Shouta’s hair

Shouta and his best friend!S/O

Aizawa seeking comfort from his s/o

Werewolf!Shouta fearing that he will hurt his s/o

Shouta developing feelings for his assistant

[ Lemon ] Shouta fingering his s/o

Shouta going on an arranged date

Shouta rescuing 3 kittens from a burning building

[ Yandere ] Prompt: “So… Do you want your underwear back?”

Shouta with a Vampire!S/O in desperate need of blood

Shouta with a s/o tired and exhausted from studies

Shouta introducing his s/o to his rich parents

Yakuza!Shouta having a crush on his boss’s daughter

Shouta saving a drowning reader

Reader encountering Vampire!Aizawa in a carriage at night

Shouta falling for his new colleague that is an ex-villain

Shouta and his s/o adopting their first kitten together

[ Lemon ] Yakuza!Shouta and his boss’s daughter getting it on in closet

Shouta finding his artists s/o sketchbook

[ Yandere ] Fem!Reader waking up to Yandere!Shouta laying in bed with her

Civilian!Shouta getting saved by a hero

Yakuza!Shouta running away with the boss’s daugther

S/O and Shouta arguing about what pet to get

Reader dating All Might and Shouta being in love with them

Shouta coming home to his s/o fallen asleep in his sleeping bag

[ Yandere ] Shouta messing with his s/o

Shouta approaching a fem!reader at a bar

Shouta waking up to his pregnant s/o not being able to sleep

Shouta and his high school friend (and crush) practicing kissing

Shouta noticing he got a grey hair, with his s/o worrying that he is too stressed

Reader waking up in Vampire!Aizawa’s mansion

Shouta comforting his panicked student

Shouta falling in love with his s/o more as she goes on and on about art

Shouta comforting his s/o who needs to get surgery

[ Yandere ] Kidnapped s/o finally giving in and letting him do what he wants

Vampire Hunter!Reader confronting Vampire!Shouta

[ Lemon ] Shouta and his s/o trying to get pregnant

Reader getting jealous at Mrs. Joke at the provisional license exams

Flower King!Shouta and Crystal Princess!Reader meeting for the first time

Reader getting jealous over Mrs. Jokes continously advances

Shouta finding his student in a locker having and anxiety attack

[ Yandere ] Reader coming home to Shouta waiting for you

Shouta’s kidnapped s/o reappearing at the summer camp

Merman!Shouta falling in love with a violin playing girl

Shouta taking an upset reader on a night patrol

Shouta returning home from the hospital after the USJ happenings

[ Yandere ] Shouta drugging his kidnapped s/o with viagra

Merman!Shouta confronting the girl on the beach playing the violin

[ Lemon ] Shouta and a fellow teacher having a heated argument at a classroom

[ Yandere ] Shouta tending to the viagra-induced reader

[ Lemon ] Shouta and his newlywed wife having honeymoon sex

[ Lemon ] Shouta fingering his s/o under the table in public

[ Lemon ] Shouta finding his s/o wearing sexy underwear

[ Yandere ] Shouta getting jealous over his crush flirting with other people

Shouta having to kiss his co-worker to not get caught by targets they are following

[ Yandere ] S/O getting needy for Shouta to touch her

[ Lemon ] Shouta getting called while having sex

S/O getting hurt while protecting children from a villain

More to come ~

[superhusbands4ever]

Peter’s hands were already shaking when he walked into Tony’s workshop.

He was going to do it. He was going to tell Tony today.

He really didn’t know why he was so nervous about it. It’s not like he thought Tony was going to think any differently of him for it. Plus, if he did, it would be rather hypocritical of the man considering his own past. Not that Peter held ever judged Tony for his pre-Iron Man days, but... if anyone would understand it would be Tony Stark.

He had told Ned first. Of course the other boy was completely nonchalant about the whole thing and pretty much immediately got over it which was... pretty much what Peter was expecting, really.

“That’s really cool, dude,” Ned said, throwing smiling at Peter for a second before going, ironically, into his closet, “do you want to build the Death Star again or the Millennium Falcon?”

There was a reason Ned had been his best friend since first grade.

Peter had told May the previous week and while that certainly hadn’t gone as he had imagined, that didn’t mean that it hadn’t gone well.

“You... you know?” Peter said weakly, eyebrows furrowing together. “What?”

“Well, I didn’t know know, but me and... me and Ben had our suspicions. Since you were about 9 or 10 I think,” May smiled at him over her coffee cup. She reached out a put a hand on top of his on the table. “But thank you for telling me. You know I’ll always love you no matter what. Now, what do you want for dinner?”

It had been a week now and through the careful encouragement of both May and Ned, Peter had finally worked up the courage to tell his da-- mentor.

“Sweetheart, Tony cares about you a lot. I don’t think telling him is going to change that.”

“Dude, just tell him. The longer you think about it the more you’re going to pointlessly freak yourself out when I guarantee you have nothing to worry about.”

So here he was. In Tony’s workshop, just like he was every other second Friday night to stay at the Tower for the weekend.

Tony wasn’t actually working on anything yet when he got there. There was no loud rock music blaring, and Tony was sitting at his workbench in sweatpants and a white t-shirt, nursing a cup of coffee as he frowned down over his glasses at whatever he was doing on his laptop. His hair was a mess, sticking every which way from the way he kept reaching up and running a hand through his hair.

Peter immediately felt some of the tension release from his body at the sight of the man.

What were you even worried about, Parker, he berated himself as he adjusted his backpack, it’s just Tony.

He took a deep breath and walked forward, the glass door to the shop sliding open with a woosh as he walked in.

Tony’s head popped up from whatever was stressing him out on his laptop to look at him, the look of consternation immediately being replaced with a warm smile.

“Hey Pete,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose with his knuckle.

“Hey Tony,” Peter said with a nervous smile. He walked over to the stool next to Tony’s and plopped down, dropping his backpack to the floor. “What uh... what are you doing?”

“Oh, you know, Pepper is making me do stuff,” Tony said with a wink. “I’m just looking over some diagnostics from R&D. Actually I’m almost done so just give me a couple minutes to finish this and then I will be... all yours... for the day.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Peter reassured him, though he wasn’t sure if the man heard him as he was already back to frowning at his computer screen.

Peter sat in the chair in silence for a couple minutes trying to keep his breathing under control. He wiped his palms against his pants and stared over at the servers that housed FRIDAY glowing in the corner. He used his feet to twist around on his stool before spinning around. He saw DUM-E in another corner in his charging station. DUM-E didn’t come closer, but he did lift his arm up and down like he was waving at Peter. Peter smiled slightly and waved back before turning around.

He fiddled with the strings of his hoodie as he watched Tony mumble to himself as he leaned over the laptop.

Since when does Tony own a laptop, Peter thought absently. He vaguely flashed back to when Tony had ranted at him about “primitive technology” when Peter had come to him about fixing his own laptop.

He was jolted out of his musing when Tony suddenly sat back and clapped his hands together.

“Alright!” Tony said, throwing a grin in Peter’s direction, “work is done for the day.”

“Woo-hoo,” Peter cheered halfheartedly, waving a fist lazily in celebration. He could feel the nerves creeping back up on him.

Just tell him. It’ll be fine. Just tell him and then you can work on the nanobots or... or go upstairs and watch a movie or something.

“Lemme just email this to Pepper real quick and then we can go,” Tony said, pulling up his email and typing something out. “So, how was school? You had that presentation today, right?”

“Oh, you know...”

Just spit it out. Get it over with.

“Presentation was good. Flash got caught texting in class and got his phone taken away” -- Tony snorted -- “MJ got a new sketchbook so she quote-unquote ‘drew him in distress’ during decathlon. I got that Spanish test back, I got a 100...”

Just say it--

“...also I’m gay.”

Not like that!

Peter watched as Tony froze his typing and turned his head to look at Peter in the eye. Peter tried not to fidget, but it was kind of hard not to with the full attention of Tony Stark on you.

“Or bi, I guess,” he mumbled, wiping his nose on his sleeve, “I’m not... I don’t really care about labels, so...”

Tony didn’t say anything for a minute, just stared at Peter until Peter felt the nerves start to build back up. Should he not have said anything..?

But then Tony just smiled and Peter felt all the nerves wash away from him at once. Peter knew that smile. It was the smile he got when Peter said something particularly genius when they were in the lab. It was the smile Pepper got when she told Tony she loved him. It was the smile Rhodey got when he laughed at his own corny jokes. It was the smile DUM-E got when he brought Tony a smoothie while they worked.

Peter smiled back slightly at Tony and Tony didn’t say anything. Just raised a hand and cupped Peter’s cheek for a second before he lifted the hand to ruffle Peter’s hair. Peter ducked away from the hand with a smile, reaching up to try and fix his hair again.

Tony continued to smile at him for a second before reaching over to close him laptop.

“So,” Tony said with a slight sniffle that Peter pretended not to notice, “100 on a Spanish test, huh? I say that calls for ice cream.”

“Ice cream sounds good,” Peter said, smiling brightly up at the man as they both stood

“Good,” Tony said, “I’m thinking we get dinner at that diner and then go to the ice cream parlor down the street. Yeah?”

“Well, I’m not gonna say no,” Peter said cheekily.

“Ok,” Tony said, throwing an arm around Peter’s shoulder’s and leading him out of the workshop toward the elevator. “Let me change my pants though. I wouldn’t be caught dead in sweatpants by paparazzi.”

Peter just threw his head back and laughed, not even trying to duck away when Tony reached up to ruffle his hair again with a chuckle.

[nade2308]

I don’t wanna live to waste another day

A/N: It’s completed. Finally! And I am proud and happy to present you with my new fic.

First of all I’d like to thank @stanclub for arranging this challenge on Tumblr, and again as the first time I wrote a fic for one of their challenges, it was a pleasure and I can’t say my thanks enough times because I challenged myself again per se. I hope you like this.

Then thanks go to my partner in crime and lab rat, @82tweeder. If it wasn’t for her, I probably wouldn’t be finished my story or posting for that matter. She was luckily able to go through the story today and she was of great help. Thank you babe. For cheering me and reading through it. It means a lot.

I’d also like to thank @lisamott9 that also cheered me on when I told her about this challenge and the fic. She had so many nice words to say about me and my writing that pushed me to move on from where I was on Tuesday and things just kind of picked themselves up yesterday and today. So, thank you girl, you know how much I appreciate your input. And now I can work on that other story we discussed (maybe I need a little bit of inspiration first, but I’m sure I can tackle that).

And last, thanks to delighted who was kind enough to suggest a few ideas as to where I can go with my story. Thank you hon for one of those suggestions made it in the fic and I was very happy to put it there.

And without further ado, let’s proceed with the story.

Title: I don’t wanna live to waste another day (from “Breaking Inside” by Shinedown).

Written for: @stanclub 2.5k followers writing challenge.

Prompt: Friends to lovers: I keep drawing you in my sketchbook because I’ve always found you to be beautiful and I’m longing to tell you how I feel, but one day you find it and you have questions. With Stucky.

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes

Other characters: Sam Wilson (mentioned), Tony Stark (mentioned), Peggy Carter (mentioned), Sharon Carter (mentioned), Brock Rumlow (mentioned), Winifred Barnes (mentioned), George Barnes (mentioned), Rebecca Barnes (mentioned), Margaret, Annie, Bart and the other students in Steve’s art class.

It was on days like these that Bucky resented everything. It was almost a year since the event that turned his life upside down and it still haunted him. On days like these, he cleaned the place excessively, trying to come to terms with himself. Bad days were few and far these days, but still often that they worried Steve to no end.

Steve was Bucky's best friend since childhood, and honestly Bucky couldn't even remember when they met first, only that when he set his eyes on the little blond ball of fury, Bucky knew that it was the right decision to stand up for him.

Last night he had a nightmare that Steve was the one that suffered in the mass shooting instead of Bucky but he died on scene. Bucky woke up to Steve yelling his name and trying to wipe the tears off Bucky's face. Bucky sobbed uncontrollably once he realized it was just a bad dream and that Steve was next to him, alive and well.

Steve decided that Bucky needed a day off work so he rang Tony who, besides his eccentric and obnoxious self, was understanding enough that he let ‘Buckaroo’ as he liked to call Bucky, have that day off and get well again.

Bucky fell asleep in Steve's embrace around 5 am and slept through the better part of the day. When he woke up, Steve was still there and only with Bucky insisting he go to class did Steve leave him alone.

Bucky cleaned the kitchen with such fierce determination that by the end of his cleaning spree there was not one thing that was out of the ordinary. He sighed.

Now what?

Bucky wished he didn't insist Steve going on with his life as normal today, because Bucky didn't dare admit to himself that he needed Steve at that moment. Plus if Steve was home, they'd probably binge watch one of those new TV shows on Netflix and eat pizza, and Bucky would drink cola while Steve would down a beer. It was probably just another excuse because Bucky was really hyped up on the new TV show they did on Ted Bundy. All of his friends teased him and acted like they were scared that Bucky would kill them in their sleep one day, because of his interest on serial killers. Steve blamed Bucky's propensity on catching the “Criminal Minds” fever back when they were still in high school. Now almost 10 years later, Bucky was still addicted to the show and it was one of his many escapes when things got rough. Bucky just liked to keep up to date with things.

With nothing else left to clean in the house, Bucky sat down on the couch and wrapped himself in his favorite blue fleece blanket. It was a gift from Steve for Christmas a few years back and it kept Bucky warm when he was cold and in all situations when Bucky was under the weather because of something else. Steve liked to call it the therapy blanket because Bucky often wrapped himself in it when one of his dates went bad.

Bucky counted the minutes till Steve was back home from his class. Despite his need for Steve, Bucky also knew that Steve lived for the 3 times a week he got to do what he actually loved the most, and that was teach people how to draw and paint and share the love for the art.

Steve was always enthusiastic about art. Ever since they were kids, Steve would always draw something for his mom or Bucky, left little doodles on the page margins in Bucky's notebooks, and when he was older he moved onto drawing and painting portraits. Bucky was the huge dork that still kept all his notebooks with Steve's doodles and drawings in it.

It was for a while that Steve hadn't drawn anything or if he did, Bucky didn’t see him doing it. Ever since Steve got the opportunity to teach art classes he seemed more engaged with his students and actually doing what he wanted to all these years, instead of working as a graphic designer in Tony's company, where Bucky also worked in as an engineer. That also meant he was busier than usual and probably didn't have much time for it. Bucky shouldn't have thought much on it but he missed Steve in his element.

Bucky was restless on the couch, nothing catching his eye long enough for him to calm down. He proceeded with cleaning his own room but even that didn't help. And then Bucky eyed Steve's bedroom.

And to those that knew Bucky, they also knew that once he set his eyes on something, it was hard to convince him not to do anything about it. The fact that they both had zero sense of personal space for the other was beyond question, although they both had things the other didn't know about.

Searching for a particular sketchbook that Bucky knew Steve kept on his desk next to the window, Bucky instead found another one of Steve’s sketchbooks that sat open on a particular page. Coming closer, Bucky could see the pencil that was discarded in a haste and the ugly line it left behind. He wondered what made Steve leave it like that and with a shocked gasp he realized Steve must have sketched when Bucky had his nightmare.

Instinctively Bucky picked the sketchbook and took it with him to the living room. Wrapping himself in the blanket again, he opened it on the first page.

And there it was: a drawing of him. Bucky.

Flipping through the rest of the pages, Bucky found numerous drawings of him in various states: Bucky smiling, Bucky laughing, Bucky sad, Bucky grumpy, you name it. Most of them were drawn while Bucky was sleeping on the couch, wrapped up like a burrito.

Bucky thought he should find it creepy, since he never thought Steve was drawing him specifically. Of course Steve did draw him once when he was younger, when he was perfecting his technique on portraits but Bucky thought that was about it.

What baffled Bucky the most was the love he could see bleeding on the pages. The softness of the moves with which Steve managed to capture him and how lifelike he looked. It had woken up something inside him that Bucky swore he'd keep buried for the rest of his days.

He was in love with Steve.

Bucky wasn’t sure when he fell for Steve. He came out as gay in high school and despite his great fear his parents would hate him or disown him, they were the total opposite of that. They accepted him and educated themselves on the topic.

After that his mom always wanted him to hook up with one of the sons of her friends and his father tried his best on giving him tips for how to woo his date (even though he wasn't sure those things would work same on men as on women). Becca was teasing him relentlessly and insisting that she'll be his best woman on his wedding with Steve, to which Bucky promptly choked on his coffee when it was brought up. She had no idea how much Bucky wanted that but when asked he always denied that there was something more between him and Steve. As far as Bucky knew, Steve loved him only as a friend. And Bucky couldn't risk his friendship with Steve with admitting his true feelings, and that he loved Steve with everything he got. That he felt unwanted whenever Steve had someone over, or that he was jealous whenever that someone kissed Steve. And the most embarrassing part of it all, what made Bucky feel disgusted and ashamed of himself was the numerous dates he had where he imagined Steve to be the one that fucked him hard or made slow love to him.

It was painful, but Bucky made do. He compromised with himself: it was better to have Steve as a best friend than not have Steve in his life at all. Bucky didn't want to confess his love to Steve so he'd be told Steve didn't love him back. Bucky was a realist and scared and no one could blame him for doing what he did all these years, and that was hiding how he truly felt for Steve. But it didn't hurt less when Steve told him he asked Peggy to be his girlfriend, nor when Steve started dating Peggy's cousin, Sharon, few months after Peggy and Steve split.

There was that one time when Bucky saw Steve flirting with Sam when they had their usual morning run. Steve was awkward and adorable and Sam put him out of his misery when he told Steve he already had a boyfriend. Bucky had to admit that meeting Sam was one of the good things that happened in his life because Sam helped him find a therapist when things got rough.

Seeing drawings of himself in Steve's sketchbook, Bucky wondered if it was possible for Steve to love him back? Was it possible for Steve to reciprocate on the love that destroyed Bucky slowly, but also kept him alive?

In hindsight, Bucky should have seen it years ago. It was everywhere and in every word Steve said and every thing Steve did. There was that one time when one of Bucky's coworkers outed him in front of the whole group and Bucky had to leave the company because of the harassment he received for his sexuality. Steve wanted to beat the living lights out of Reginald, but Bucky managed to prevent Steve from acting on his emotions.

From then on there were numerous situations where Steve acted protectively around Bucky, but Bucky chalked it up to friendship, because Steve was always like that with Bucky.

Steve couldn't have possibly felt the same for him, right?

Then there was Brock, Bucky's longest relationship up to date. They met shortly after Bucky started working in Stark Industries. They hit it off immediately and even though Bucky liked him enough to imagine a future with him, he knew Steve wasn't very supportive of their relationship. And with right, because Brock showed his true face once Bucky was involved in the mass shooting. Suddenly he wasn't good enough, he was too much to handle with his anxiety and nightmares, and then there was his left arm that lost almost 60% of mobility thanks to the bullet that caught Bucky in the shoulder. There was a whole list of issues that bothered Brock. Gone was the love and attention and promises.

Bucky could clearly remember Steve's reactions and how much he wanted to strangle Brock for what he did to Bucky. It took a while for Bucky to realize that Brock was wrong and that he wasn't a burden and it was okay to have PTSD and anxiety without having to be careful around people. Steve helped him in those tough days and it was then when they decided to share Steve's condo in Brooklyn. Steve was the perfect roommate and they knew each other for all their lives so the decision was mutual and what they both needed.

Looking at Steve's drawings again Bucky was reminded of all the times they nursed each other after a bad time in their lives, all the times they watched over the other when they were sick or a bad night. Because no matter what happened in their lives they always gravitated to each other. It was a given.

Bucky sighed, looking down at the sketchbook one more time before he closed it. He hugged it close to his chest and kept glancing at the clock on the wall and realized that Steve was due to come back from class any moment now. Bucky couldn't make himself return the sketchbook back to Steve's room. He was drained from his night and the realization he just had. It was best he waited for Steve so they could talk.

It was a can of worms he wasn't ready to open, but there was this determination that set itself in him and for once Bucky just wanted to get it all out, come hell or high waters. He'd deal with the consequences later.

Bucky sat himself comfortably on the couch and waited for Steve.

…

The familiar screech of the train tracks alerted Steve of the arrival of his metro line. Just one more thing and he'll be home and with Bucky. Steve beat himself over and over for leaving his best friend alone after a bad night, but Bucky insisted Steve go with his day normally. He shouldn't have listened to Bucky. It wasn't that he didn't trust Bucky with himself but Steve didn't want to leave him alone when he wasn't in his best mood.

Steve entered in the train and found a free seat. He pulled his headphones out of his pocket then put them in his ears and got lost in the moment for a bit. He just wanted time to go faster. It usually did when he was listening to music.

Steve's eyes wandered around the cart. An older couple was seated in the back with bunch of college kids. It made him smile because they reminded him of some of his art students. That in turn made him think of today's class.

…

(Flashback)

Steve sighed in frustration as the third attempt of drawing a simple fruit in class. He could feel his students’ eyes on him, and it made him even more nervous and prone on mistakes. Only the respect he had for his students stopped him from throwing the pencil out of the window.

“Are you okay Mr. Rogers?” Annie, one of the teenage girls in his class asked, seemingly worried.

And Steve didn't want to see that look on such a young face. He didn't like the fact that he caused someone else to worry about him, something about his best friend being always the worrywart. Steve hated the face Bucky always made when Steve was sick or did something stupid. Which was often.

Steve shook himself out of his thoughts, aware he zoned out.

“Yeah, uh, yeah… Just, I think it's not my day. I'm usually better at drawing a simple apple. Sorry.”

“No worries, Mr. Rogers. It happens.”

“I know, I know. Thank you for asking that, though. Don't think anyone else than Bucky has asked me that recently.” Steve replied without thinking.

“Who the hell is Bucky?” Bart, a grumpy 30 years old asked from the back of the classroom.

Steve looked at him, baffled, but he schooled his face quickly. Bart was a good hearted person so Steve didn't take it in a bad way.

“Bucky is my best friend. We know each other since childhood. And we live together.”

There was a chorus of “oooooh” from the class and Steve blushed. He was used to people mistaking him and Bucky for a couple enough, but it never ceased to elicit a reaction from him.

“It's not like that.” Steve spluttered. “He is my best friend. We are roommates. Nothing more.”

“Who said you were?” Margaret, the only student that had hit the 70s mark, queried and winked at Steve.

“I assumed… uh, never mind.” Steve scratched his neck and stood awkwardly in front of his class.

Margaret grinned conspiratorially and Steve could see her and Annie talk to each other. Those two were a menace.

“What's Bucky like?” someone from the back said, Steve couldn't remember his name. Was it Pietro?

It took Steve by surprise that someone would ask about Bucky, but it was a welcomed distraction so he decided to answer.

“He's the greatest. Always there for me. The best friend anyone could ask for.”

Steve then proceeded to tell them all about his best friend, how they met, and the adventures of their everyday life. What Steve wasn't aware was the way he was practically glowing when he talked about Bucky as Margaret was so kind to notice and voice it out loud.

“You certainly sound like you are very fond of him, dear.” Margaret piped in.

Steve blushed again and he had to grin.

“For not being a couple, you blush a lot, Mr. Rogers.” Annie helpfully added.

As if that was Steve's cue to turn in a tomato, he turned a darker shade of pink.

…

Not just that he managed to be productive and teach his class something useful, but Steve was also effectively distracted from thinking about Bucky and the way he looked last night - like death warmed over. He was reluctant to leave him alone today, but Bucky insisted. And nothing could deter Bucky from getting his way with things - which was useful for when Steve got himself in trouble. Bucky was still in the back of his mind the whole day.  

“So, that will be all for today.” Steve covered the sheet he was working on while turning around and addressing his class.

“Oh, but it's too early, Mr. Rogers.” one of the students whined.

“It's actually past the 90 minutes mark, Beth. Besides I have important matters to attend so if you don't mind…”

“It's Bucky, isn't it?” Margaret winked playfully.

“In a way. It's personal though, so I wouldn't want to share more info without his consent. But he had a bad night, and it took me a lot of convincing from him to appear today and not just cancel. So be happy I appeared at all.”

Margaret nodded at the explanation with a knowing glint in her eyes.

When the last of his students left the classroom Steve released a breath he didn't know he was holding. It was time to go home.

(End of flashback)

…

“Breaking inside” by Shakedown blasted in Steve's ears as he all but missed his stop. The song lyrics hit him right in the feels, the story behind the powerful text was hinting at his situation when Bucky was in question and for the first time in a while Steve didn't know how to bury the feelings back to where they were all this time.

Moving on autopilot the last three blocks that separated him from the subway to the condo he shared with Bucky, Steve turned in his head the moment he realized he was gone on Bucky forever.

They were in high school when Steve first realized he liked boys as much as girls. Or the exact moment that he started looking at Bucky with different eyes and suddenly he wasn't just his best friends. He tried quelling that feeling with dating Peggy and then her cousin Sharon, but that didn't help him at all. Steve liked Bucky still and he often caught himself thinking of spending time with Bucky while on dates with other people which wasn't fair for them. Hence why he always broke off things before feels got involved.

Steve still remembered Bucky's face when he flirted with Sam, like a man ready to have a heart attack. Steve chalked it up to Bucky being a jealous friend but looking at things in a new perspective, Steve asked himself, was it possible that Bucky felt the same for him?

There was something that shifted in the air but Steve chalked it up to the cold weather and the wind chill.

Then there was the shooting that changed Bucky's life and by default Steve's too. With Winnie and George being in Indiana, Bucky didn't want to impose on his sister and her family. Steve came up with the suggestion for them to start living together. It took him a while to convince Bucky, but when Steve suggested he either impose on Becca or come with him, Bucky caved in. In the last year Steve had to battle through days when Bucky didn't want to get out of bed and days where you couldn't contain him in one room because he was bored out of his mind. They visited Bucky's therapist together because Bucky was afraid that if he spoke about the event without Steve being present, something could happen to Steve.

Not many could understand Bucky and Steve would forever loathe the moment Bucky met Brock Rumlow and he became Bucky's boyfriend. That schmuck wasn't worth Bucky's love and time and he proved so by breaking up with Bucky shortly after he almost lost his life. Steve almost beat him up then, and only Bucky's pleading voice and the disheveled state he was in prevented Steve from sending Brock to the hospital. Bucky was too precious for Brock anyway. And in Steve's opinion if you love someone, you'll love them in any situation, and not only when they are healthy or working or something else entirely.

...

Passing by the bakery on the corner of the street, Steve saw Bucky's favorite plum tarts being displayed. Without much thought he entered and bought quite a few. He wanted to indulge Bucky, who could blame him?

He managed to wrangle his headphones in submission and put them away. He looked at the time and saw that it was just past 8 pm. He hoped Bucky was okay and that they'd have a nice night watching some movie on Netflix and literally chill.

Steve was careful in opening the door to his apartment because he didn't want to interrupt Bucky in case he was sleeping. And sure enough, Bucky was sprawled on the couch, covered in his favorite blanket, the one that he bought for Bucky for Christmas three years ago. The soft baby blue sweater that Bucky had put on was Steve’s and Steve felt warmth go through him at the sight. Bucky's hair was loose and splayed on the pillow. Overall Bucky looked so soft that Steve didn't want to wake him up at all. But then he saw the item Bucky held with one hand. It was one of his sketchbooks. That didn't surprise Steve because Bucky grounded himself often going through Steve's sketches. What made Steve release a surprised squeak was THE sketchbook that Bucky held in his hand. Specifically one he never wanted Bucky to find.

Steve drew ever since he could remember. It was just something that started as a hobby but it developed in a passion that moved steadily throughout his life and ended in Steve taking art school and later going to arts college which earned him a degree. Nowadays he worked as a graphic designer at Tony's company but secretly he still loved to draw. There was something about the paper and pencil combination that would never get old, Steve knew.

That didn’t bother him essentially, that Bucky would go through his sketchbook. But the one in question he kept hidden at all times for the reason that it was full of drawings from the person that was holding it now. It was part of series of sketchbooks Bucky gifted Steve for birthdays and Steve made a good use of them. But never showing the drawings to Bucky. Only the ones that everyone was allowed to see.

Steve didn't think Bucky would violate his privacy and search for that specific sketchbook but he needed answers before he said more that he should.

Bucky stirred on the bed and Steve had a split second to prepare himself before being assaulted by the softness in the pale blue eyes that looked at him.

Bucky was awake.

…

Bucky heard the soft click of the front door but he wasn't ready to open his eyes just yet. He just wanted to enjoy the warmth of his blanket, and how happy he was that Steve was home. He could hear Steve moving around until he stopped in front of the couch. He stood there for a while before squeaking and Bucky found it hard to pretend he was still sleeping when all he wanted was to laugh because Steve always claimed that he didn't squeak.

In the battle between Steve and his warm post-nap bubble, Steve won. Bucky opened his eyes and stared at Steve, assessing the look on Steve's face. It was a mix between soft, fond and panicked. For a moment Bucky wondered what happened to Steve but then he remembered the sketchbook in his lap.

Bucky blushed as he fumbled with the sketchbook and he shot upright in the couch, trying to detach himself of the blanket and make room for Steve.

Steve stood above him like someone slapped a bucket of hot water all over him. Or maybe a wet Golden Retriever puppy. Yep, that was it.

Bucky didn't realize he was grinning until Steve raised a questioning eyebrow and Bucky smiled fondly at him.

“It's just you look like an adorable puppy. Adorable Golden Retriever puppy. Wet puppy.”

Steve choked on his spit and looked incredulously at Bucky.

“I'm not a puppy.”

“Sure thing pal.”

An awkward silence stretched between them until Steve broke it.

“What are you doing with my sketchbook, Buck?”

Bucky's momentarily good mood evaporated in a second, a frown now on his face.

“I… I’m sorry. I was restless and didn't know what to do so I went to your room. I found this sketchbook on your desk. It was there and I took it. I wasn't snooping, I swear.”

Bucky was distressed and looked genuinely scared. That shook Steve out of his thoughts.

“Sorry… Sorry, Buck, it's just…” Steve took a deep breath. “Today was one of those days where nothing goes right.”

If possible, Bucky shrunk even more into the couch. Steve face palmed himself at the sight.

“Look, I screwed up. I remembered now that I left the sketchbook on my desk and it's not your fault, okay? Not your fault.”

Bucky nodded but didn't say anything. Steve sighed. It wasn't like he anticipated Bucky finding that sketchbook. And now…

Steve went to the kitchen and left the plum tarts on the counter. He washed his arms and then removed his coat and scarf. Going back to the living room he found Bucky sitting on the couch, knees drawn close to his chest and with an off look in his eyes.

“Are you okay, Buck?” Steve asked tentatively, sitting on the couch next to him.

Bucky looked at him with the look of a wounded animal and shook his head. Steve felt awful. He shouldn't have gone to class. He shouldn't have been harsh with Bucky about his sketches. He shouldn't-

“Steve- Stevie, it's okay. Just because I might not react in a certain way, doesn't make you guilty of something. Okay?”

Steve looked at his hands in his lap. He probably said all of that out loud.

“I want to ask you something. You may not answer if you don't want to but seeing those drawings you have of me in that sketchbook… made me think and well…” Bucky chuckled and put a strand of stray hair behind his ear, “I came to realize I might not have been good at hiding what I feel and wondered if you, um, if it's possible you feel the same as I?”

“What are you trying to say, Bucky?”

“The only time I remember you asked me to pose for you so you can draw me was when you were discovering and perfecting your technique. After that, I've seen thousands of your sketches, but not one of me. But I found your sketchbook today and I saw it almost filled with drawings from me. So, I have some questions.”

Steve didn't say anything, deciding he'd let Bucky say his mind first.

“I went through your drawings of me and… I've noticed that they are very realistic. What I'm saying, of course they are, they are drawn by you.” Bucky smiled and looked at Steve, “I could see the love and the affection, how you think of me and I guess I want to know… Is it possible- It's stupid.”

“What is it Buck? What's stupid?”

“It's stupid I got that only from a few drawings and…” Bucky threw his hands in the air and sighed in frustration.

“It's more than just few drawings, Bucky.”

Bucky could see Steve's cheeks pinked up and he wondered just how many drawings of himself were out there.

“I see. Okay, I'm just gonna go and say this… Why is it so tough? Oookay, there we go. I'm in love with you.”

Bucky waited for a reaction. And Steve took too long to say or even do something. Bucky took that as a sign that he screwed things up and he started getting up but a hand on his wrist stopped him.

“What makes you say that Buck?”

Bucky sat back down and looked at Steve. He wasn't yelled at and wasn't ordered to leave the apartment, yet, so that was a good thing, right? He just hoped he didn't ruin his friendship with Steve.

“It's in all you say. And do. And the drawings just helped me gather the courage to talk to you about it. I guess I just put my feelings in a box and locked them. Hoping they'd go away. But they didn't. They are real. I love you Steve. I'm in love with you.”

“Oh, Bucky… I love you so much. Loved you for so long. But I didn't think you could love me back. God, I got out of my mind with worry last year when you were hurt in that mass shooting. When I saw your face on national TV, the way you were frantically running to escape, something lodged deep inside my chest. It turns out I didn't have to worry and hold out on you for so long, but I was scared.”

“Our friendship is too precious for me. I didn't wanna lose it in case you didn't love me back. I don't think that there's anything more that will hurt me than not having you in my life, Steven Grant Rogers.”

“Is this a proposal, James Buchanan Barnes?”

Steve winked playfully and grinned, the gloomy mood from earlier dissipating and his old self back on track. Bucky appreciated Steve and his way of making every situation better. And lighter. That's one of the numerous things about Steve that Bucky absolutely loved.

“It might be. With the way we are living together and we know each other our whole lives, it will only take me putting a ring on your finger to make it official.”

“Such a romantic, Buck.”

“Says the resident sap.”

“Can I kiss you?”

Steve's skin drummed with excitement.

“Yes. Like you have to ask now.”

Bucky smiled and puckered his lips.

The first touch of Steve's lips on his was soft and tender. Bucky didn't expect fireworks to go off or to see stars behind his eyelids but it was easily the best kiss he got to this day. Something uniquely Steve and full of love. It made him tingle and curve his lips in a smile. Steve pecked him again before moving back. As if pulled by a magnet, Bucky chased Steve's lips. This time the kissing became more heated and soon enough Bucky's tongue asked for entrance in Steve's mouth. Steve opened up and kissed as hard and greedy as Bucky, their lips dancing a sweet melody of two souls coming together at last.

“We were idiots, huh?” Bucky asked when he pulled off Steve and leaned his head on Steve's shoulder.

“Damn right we were.” Steve kissed Bucky's temple. “And oblivious too.”

“True that.”

“Although I don't know anymore. Two of my students today kind of pinned me in a corner and think they saw right through me when I mentioned you.”

“You talking about me in class, Rogers?”

Steve ducked his head and was faced with Bucky's smile.

“I might have mentioned you. A little bit. In passing.”

“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.”

…

 6 months later

 Steve arrived a little bit early at the studio he held his classes in. Bucky was sitting in one of the chairs, looking at a catalogue with pictures of wedding cakes. He was engrossed in the content and it made Steve feel warmth pooling in his stomach at the sight of his now fiancé, being so at ease and looking like a soft teddy bear. Steve wanted to cuddle him.

He touched the ring that Bucky put on his finger a couple of weeks ago. The last 6 months were the best in Steve's life and in Bucky's too as he was reminded so of every day. Just waking up next to Bucky every morning was worth facing every obstacle life threw at him. And he was happy to see his students filter through the room and each take a seat.

Today he planned for them to practice their portrait skills and he had the excellent candidate in mind. Said candidate was grinning now, looking like the cat that ate the cream.  

“Okay, everyone, thank you for coming today. As you know this is one of our last classes and I decided all of us to do something fun today. I gave it a lot of thought. And came to a conclusion when remembering something Bucky said.”

The familiar chorus of “ooooh's” made Steve stop with what he was saying. With the corner of his eye he could see Bucky was blushing.

“Back when I wanted to perfect my technique when drawing portraits, I asked my best friend to pose for me. He agreed and that was the only official time he knew I drew him.”

Steve grinned as he saw Margaret and Annie whisper between themselves as always.

“Those drawings that I kept away was what brought us together, to admit our feelings and we are here today because of them, or what Bucky likes to say, what I do best.”

“I thought that was him.” Margaret said and Steve had a split second before he had to tap Bucky on the back because he choked on his water.

Margaret had such a dirty mind sometimes. Steve should've known.

“Sooo, how about we have my fiancé be your model today?”

The whole room whooped and cheered.

“I take that as a yes? Okay, good. I won't be showing you anything today but let you capture this beautiful man all by yourselves. I did that 10 years ago.”

“It was 12 actually.” Bucky piped in as he got up and moved to the center of the room.

Steve waited for him there. For a moment he forgot he had a room full of students in front of him and leaned to kiss Bucky.

There was a loud sound of “yessss” behind them and Steve detached himself from Bucky. Bucky in turn chuckled and turned around.

“Hi, guys. I'm Bucky Barnes, the luckiest guy in the world. And apparently your lab rat today.”

That made the class erupt in laughter. Steve noticed it was tactful by Bucky to make them laugh so they relax.

“Model, Bucky. Model.”

“Yeah, yeah. So, where do you want me?”

Steve prevented any dirty thought to prevail at that question and smiled fondly at the love of his life.

“Right where you are Buck.”

Right next to me.

...

A/N 2: If you’ve come to the end of this story and you figured it out, congratulations. I was inspired for the characters of Margaret and Annie by Political Animals, a tv show Seb’s played in. Margaret as in Margaret Barrish (TJ’s grandma) and Annie (Doug’s fiancé and then wife). Hope you liked it. Leave a comment if you like. I love getting feedback and see what people thought about the story.  

[that-one-fluffy-anon]

this took like five hours. deadass.

anyway yeah. i blended the colored pencil and everything. woo!

i got a new sketchbook and colored pencils so i made this to celebrate

tach has a new ref, btw! finally finished hehe

taylor honestly would be kicking him, but she also knows if she does, he's going to go apeshit, so none of that ig ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

anyway *runs*

[perditaalottachocolate-blog]

Blue, Red and Lavender

ML Rare Pair March 2018, Pair: Gabriel Agreste x Mrs. Agreste, Day 24: First Date, for Remasa

AO3 / fanfiction.net

(Other days: 6 | 8 | 20 | 24 | 27 |)

|This is also a sequel to my Gabriel Appreciation Week story - Doomsday, and Day 27 is Part 3 of this series.

‘Boatline or jewel? Both would look good…’

The most promising of Reboux designers was seated at the employees’ cafe at the company’s headquarters, a stack of papers piling up on his table, next to three empty cups and a half eaten sandwich.

‘A-line skirt, yes, but it needs to end below the knee,’ he was sketching furiously and murmuring under his breath, earning sideway glances from the staff and any of his coworkers who happened to pass by him.

‘Empire waist is a bit too much…’ he tore one of the half finished sketches, absently made a ball out of it and dropped it on the floor, absolutely unaware of the annoyed stare the barista sent his way.

‘Maybe I should try a v-neck? For a summer dress this would be more appropriate…’ the mumbling continued to the scribbling of pencil on paper, and yet another design emerged from the depths of his imagination, fleshing up thanks to a little bit of carbon and cellulose into a slender figure of a young woman. If anyone bothered to inspect any of the bits of paper on and around Gabriel’s table, they would discover that she was present on each and every one of them - long, wavy hair, large eyes, full lips, hourglass figure and cosmic legs of a model. Any random passerby would probably just shrug, assuming this was Monsieur Agreste’s standard design fill-in model. It would take a fellow fashionista, subscriber of La Mode, to spot the cunning resemblance to their top journalist, one Emilie Launder, aka every designers’ nightmare with deceitful looks of a daydream.

And daydreaming Gabriel was.

‘V-neck would show more cleavage which is good in summer… ekhm, ekhm-’

He felt the blood rushing to his cheeks at the thought of Mademoiselle Launder’s chest exposed in the flowing v-neckline dress he was currently drawing, and a coughing fit followed making him even more red. Gabriel tried to dismiss this vision. He was a professional, for heaven’s sake. He dealt with cleavages and hips and legs on a daily basis. It was his job to make them look attractive. How on earth was he suddenly blushing like a schoolgirl, and at his own design nonetheless.

‘Well, this is a really promising dress,’ he was startled by a pleasantly low rumble at his ear and choked on his own saliva when a perfectly manicured red nail tapped at the waistline of the drawing, ‘but I look better in a ¾ length,’ Mlle Launder murmured winking at him.

Gabriel spluttered something incoherent in reply, feeling his cheeks warming up dangerously close to self-combust. He shook his head. This wouldn’t do. He just needed a moment to get his treacherous body under control and to reboot his brain after the woman of his dreams and drawings suddenly materialized in the cafe.  

She watched with open amusement as he held up a finger and took a deep breath.

‘Fancy seeing you here, Monsieur Agreste,’ she pursed her lips in vain attempt to hold back the satisfied smirk.

Gabriel’s neurons finally reconnected. ‘Um, I work here?’ he ventured, not quite trusting his voice yet.

‘Oh, a second gig as a barista?’ she chuckled. ‘I already got that you were a man full of surprises.  And here I thought Reboux paid his designers a decent salary.’

Her suggestion rendered him speechless once again, until his two remaining brain cells prompted that this might have been a joke. He cleared his throat. ‘Your presence, however pleasant, is a surprise, mademoiselle,’ he said finally rising from his seat and taking her hand.

‘Is it? I think I’ve told you I would hunt you down, haven’t I?’ she firmly shook his palm, not allowing for a hand kiss this time.

Gabriel tried to suppress his disappointment. ‘Indeed,’ he nodded gravely, putting on the neutral face of a professional. It would look much better without the fiercely stinging blush.

Emilie raised a perfect brow at him. ‘And you never called,’ she reminded.

‘I’ve been…’ his gaze flickered to the sketchbook and the piles of papers in the neighborhood, ‘busy,’ he ended lamely. What was he supposed to tell her? That he couldn’t get her out of his mind since their meeting at the Fashion Week? That every time he took his pencil, the only thing he could think of was another design for her? That his superiors didn’t mind when instead of his entries for men’s autumn line he presented them with a complete collection of smart dresses and gowns worthy of a princess and he was given a free pass to work wherever and on whatever he wanted as long as the results would match these first drawings? At this rate he would single-handedly fill the next few seasons of Reboux womenswear before the midyear evaluation.

‘Indeed,’ she repeated his own words, eyeing the sketches at the same time. ‘And not only with the designs,’ she added. ‘All I asked was a phone call.’

Gabriel’s face fell from carefully impassive to worried. ‘I have sent you some… messages. Didn’t you get them?’

‘Oh, I did,’ a Cheshire cat grin appeared on her face. ‘Our office ran out of vases by Wednesday. My desk looks like I’ve robbed a flower shop,’ she paused mid sentence and cast him a questioning look. ‘You didn’t rob a flower shop, did you?’

Despite his debilitating state he somehow managed to scowl in indignation.

‘I asked you to call, not to arrange a garden in La Mode’s office,’ Emilie sighed.

‘I’m sorry?’ Gabriel squeaked. Apparently he misread her signals and acting purely on his infatuation might have overdone in wooing Mlle Launder with romantic gestures. Just a little bit. Okay, maybe more than a bit. So sue him. … Would she though? He gulped.

‘Let’s see,’ the woman tapped her red lips with a slender finger. ‘On Thursday I found daffodils. I obviously felt flattered that you remembered what I said about French gentlemen going extinct.’

Regard and chivalry. That had been his first idea.

‘Then the yellow tulips on Friday got a good giggle out of me and a few sour smiles from my coworkers,’ she continued, for now choosing to look around the cafe.

Sunshine in your smile. Gabriel thought it would be a good follow-up. Not too invasive but sustaining the interest.

‘I admit I was a bit surprised to find that stunning amaryllis waiting on my desk on Monday when I got back from lunch,’ she still wasn’t looking at him, but he didn’t miss the delicate coat of pink that colored her cheeks at the mention of amaryllis.

Splendid beauty. But that was hardly news. Surely she must have known what a gorgeous woman she was? He had some reservations about the amaryllis, but over the weekend he somehow convinced himself that he might have already lost her attention. When he found it on the flower market that Monday morning he bought it without really thinking it through. Unlike the tulips and the daffodils, he had to sit on this idea for a bit, and hadn’t decided to call for the office-boy until lunch.

‘Now you will probably be glad to hear that my coworkers lasted until Tuesday, before they started with their sarcastic comments, dubbing me the Sunflower Girl,’ she sent him a sweet smile. ‘Because sunflowers are my favorite.’

Adoration and dedication. Also bingo! He knew she’d like them.

‘We ran out of vases at the red carnations on Wednesday,’ Emilie mentioned casually. ‘And I could no longer evade questions about my secret admirer. Since by then at least some people in the office had done their homework on flower symbolism.’

Uh-oh. Were the red carnations for admiration already too much? But in that case today’s bouquet-

His train of thought was interrupted as Reboux’s office boy stuck his head into the cafe. He spotted the designer and strode in their direction with a broad grin, that was undoubtedly a result of the handsome pay Gabriel offered for the extra delivery for the last few days.

‘Monsieur Agreste,’ his smile broadened as he halted at the table. ‘I’m on my break so I can drop these beauties at La Mode now, if you want to,’ he carefully lifted the bouquet in question. A perfect arrangement of roses appeared in their vision and Gabriel noted with no small amount of satisfaction that his companion gasped at the display. Red, lavender and blue combined into one ample bunch.

He could almost hear the cogs in Mlle Launder’s brain spinning as she worked out the meaning behind the flowers and their colors. And when her delicate blush deepened, he knew he chose well.

‘Thank you, Jean-Luc, that won’t be necessary today,’ Gabriel passed the boy a 200 franc bill. After carefully depositing his cargo in the designer’s hands he left with a grin dangerously close to ripping his face in half.

Monsieur Agreste turned to the journalist. She was still staring at the roses, stunned into silence for the very first time. It was very satisfying, if he said so himself. His daily visits at the flower market and then the time it took to arrange the flowers personally had definitely paid off, if it had such an effect on her, even temporarily.

‘I see you have done your homework on plant symbolism too, mademoiselle,’ Gabriel murmured.

‘Blue for unattainable or mysterious,’ Emilie started weakly, ‘red for longing and desire. And lavender...,’ she reached to touch the delicate petals.

‘For love at first sight,’ he finished for her as he put his hand over hers.

She stilled and cleared her throat, apparently ready to take the initiative again. ‘Well, well, Monsieur Agreste,’ she drawled locking her emerald eyes with his aquamarine ones. ‘Now tell me, are you planning to propose with another bouquet before I finally ask you out on the first date?’

[oreopata]

Post-23rd Birthday Post!

Thank you all so, so much for the kind Birthday messages yesterday! :D Especially to my good friends @sibera-the-wanderer, @ecmcookiez, @rationalnonsense, @strangehyperbole & @vannjaren. I really appreciate every single one of them, thank you for making me smile.Sorry I couldn't get back to you all sooner. Yesterday was a lot busier than I anticipated. I was mostly expecting a quiet day for myself, but I ended up moving about all over the show.

First was attending the weekly art class. What better way to spend my birthday then to get some drawing done? I was already full on inspiration and drive because of the Dolan Kart art competition I’m hoping to enter. Today, Trish was giving a demonstration on lighting effects, such as run rays, dappled light and how their interact with their environments and perspective. `While I have dipped my toes in these kinds of things before, digitally. I was still eager to try it out traditionally. While the demonstrations were done in watercolour and acrylic, I only had black and white India ink with me yesterday. I wasn’t deterred, since one of my favourite online art teachers, Istebrak, always says that you should master greyscale before moving onto colours. While I did manage to use some masking tape in my A3 sketchpad to block out some test squares and fill in a greyscale background tone  as a first layer, it pretty much took the entire lesson to dry. So I was left with plenty of free time to think over a lot of other projects I have in mind and rough out some other pictures. 

Upon telling my classmates it was my birthday, they just HAD to make it more known by singing happy birthday in front of everyone! (despite me begging them not to) XD Served me right for mentioning it out loud, plus I think they mentioned something about being sick with envy at me youth (Since I’m the youngest person there by decades, not that I mind. Even as a kid, I got along better with adults than people my own age). But it was still funny. Everyone was so nice.  

After class, I waited for my shopping to arrive, got myself a packet of mini red-velvet cupcakes to have instead of a birthday cake. Planning to have two of them with a side of Ben & Jerry’s Birthday cake Ice cream and celebrate. ’Even got to give a few to my neighbour and my parents. 

At 4 O’clock, I made my way to visit my mum dad for a couple hours. I thought I knew what I was expecting as I strolled to my destination under the lovely (small bit of) sunshine we had that day. But mum had arranged a little surprise… As I turn the corner, who do I see other than my mum, my sister in law, Christine; and my nephew, Theo! YAY!!!! 

‘Turns out mum felt bad that she couldn’t do anything for birthday this year. Given that we are both busy, she’s recovering from an operation etc. So she invited them both over. I’d already not seen them for weeks, so this was the best possible surprise. Having fun with the little man and having him request more pictures for me to draw. He gave me a quite the challenge in the form of a “Humpty Dumpty Dinosaur”. But, anything at all for my little bear cub - since he loves my drawings so much. Even making his way over the the couch I was sitting on to watch and draw with me.

So much happened for me to describe and remember it all, but along with him singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to me, him pretending to be a doctor and fixing my mum, dressing as a king (or queen as he declared himself over and over. And by God if my nephew wants to proudly declare himself the queen than he’s gonna be the best bloody queen!) and having fun hiding pens in my hair.

I received such wonderful gifts as well, a nice bottle of white wine from mum and dad. And from Theo & the family; A box of Cadbury heroes, and a beautiful hand-made scented candle. Christine has a real talent for hand-making things such as this. The china teacup and saucer are this gorgeous light green colour with gold accents. I soon worked out the perfect place to put it; Something about it reminded me a lot of my gran, so now it sits pride and place on the little alter I have in her memory (located inside my office). 

Once I was back home, I got a call from my neighbour, whom I just adore. He said, 

“Hey pretty girl, fancy coming over?” 

I know I was made-up for the day with my usual signature hairstyle, eyeliner and red lipstick, but I couldn’t believe what I was hearing! ME?! PRETTY?! FROM HIM!?! As I got my arse next door, I saw a trail of red carnation flowers leading from the front steps into his house!

As if the flowers weren’t enough, he’d actually gone out and bought me a bottle of Baileys, a chocolate cake and a new sketchbook! Even though I’d had already seen him earlier that day in order to give him a cupcake and give him some Kitchen rolls I got for him along with my online shopping, as requested. But he did say he’d see me later that night. My close friends will know about him already and know that few days go by where I’m not so fucking happy that I know this man. He’s still one of the best things to happen in my life since my Gran’s death. 

As is usual with us, we sat, drank and had deep and meaningful conversations until the sun went down. I didn't get back to my house to order have a bath and order a takeaway. Not that I minded, I knew I wanted this day to be long and to enjoy it to the fullest. I’m so happy I got to spend it with my favourite people and still have time to chill in my own house. 

Once I was back home, it was time to dress down, get the slap off my face, and hop in the bath. I haven't been able to take a bath in ages due to the tiles falling off on top of me and had to use my shower (despite it leaking buckets into the kitchen below). Thank God I’d recently had some men in to FINALLY get it fixed - long story. Once I had my soak, I applied a mud mask, slipped into something more comfortable and treat myself to a takeaway. At first, I was going to get myself a burger or chicken kebab, but I opted for a Chinese. Since, I can make the leftovers last me a few days and spare myself the extra time to cook something. Then I could end the night with the before mentioned Red velvet and Ice Cream. Combine those with the confectionaries I’ve been given, and I’m defiantly not going to be starving - even if my diet is temporarily fucked.

 I had a great time eating, drinking, wrapped up in my lion throw-blanket and watching some good telly: from watching Mock the Week to marathoning youtube videos until 2:00am. Not bad, considering I woke up at 5:00am that day. So, I’ve been taken today nice and slow. 

I‘ll admit, in the upcoming days leading up to my birthday, I’ve been mostly feeling upset about it. Mainly because I’ve been thinking about how I’ll be 23 and I was just feeling like I’d achieved nothing of value in my life yet. I feel like I should have a regular job and have achieved more by now. I’ve just had setback after setback that have just caused be to delay my plans. I was hoping to be open for business and be taking commissions months ago. And the time I’ve been dedicating towards setting up my art business has taken time away from writing my graphic novel. My friends will know of all the other stresses and heartaches I’ve been having recently too. 

But despite that all that, I couldn't help but wonder in my mind maybe things would now be different with my new age? While every bit of progress I’ve made has felt like drops in a bucket, I’ve recently made some small victories. I’ve been looking into different methods of packaging prints for shipping, I’ve come closer to working out my businesses aesthetics, my art itself has greatly improved - as has my work ethic. 

During yesterday’s class, I found out that we will be having ourselves a private exhibition on the 10th of May. For months I’ve been panicking about being open for business before then so I could have business cards available. Only now do I know that it will be a exhibition just for us. It’s different from the annual public exhibition they usually have (having known about the class from last year’s) so WOO HOO!! I HAVE MORE TIME!!! 

The exhibition is on the 10th of May, the day before the deadline for the Dolan art competition. So from now until then, I am going to be in for a very busy fortnight. So I am gonna be dead to the world, but very productive. Still, I’ll do my best to keep you all updated! :)

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