Nobody Famous

Since some of my first fanart was of @imthepunchlord's Little Kitten and Little Princess, so I wanted to redo it some nearly 10 years later lol

Some Minnie Miraculous AU extras for @goatlilly's AU

Headcanon fun stuff with Kitty Section

I just love drawing Clara, she's so fun in my style. And some Lukanette that I'm sure I'll get flak for from @miraculous-content for never posting lol

Like, the universe blinks and some space/time phenomenon runs afoul of Simon's elder god moment and the next thing he knows, he's waking up inside some kind of space ship(?) that appears to be running on autopilot.

It's weird and the tech looks both dated and brand new, expensive and advanced but also extremely retro, like someone using a diamond-encrusted rotary phone to check their emails. Luckily it's all mostly in language that Simon can comprehend, unluckily a lot of the equipment still seems like it would require several degrees of expertise to operate. But eventually Simon figures out enough to find the ship's crew, and... it's not looking good for them.

Two of them are dead. Have been for a while. Whatever stasis system(?) they have has preserved the corpses pretty well, but it's past the point of being able to try and revive them. The other is still alive, but Simon's not sure how to safely wake him up or what to do if that starts to change. He decides to just keep an eye on the situation, presumably there's a system that will wake the guy up whenever the ship reaches its destination, and if he starts to look bad before that point then Simon can always try to manually revive him and hope for the best.

Anyway, the ship has medicine and supplies, which he desperately needs. He figures the other two crewmen weren't planning on dying, so they can probably spare enough of said supplies for him. He figures out the AI well enough to start asking questions and eventually puts together that he's time traveled(?) or crossed into another dimension, that this ship is on a mission to figure out why the stars are going dim, or rather why there's one star that isn't, and he's not sure what to make of it but it seems he's also landed on another one-way trip.

When Grace wakes up, confused and without his memories, Simon panics and because Grace assumes he must've been part of the crew he just... goes with that. Grace thinks that he woke up from stasis early and that his weirdness is a result of isolation. He's a little surprised that there's an amputee aboard but it would be insensitive to ask, right? Not that a one-armed guy can't be an astronaut, yeah? Although Simon is also weirdly cagey about what his specialty is supposed to be and seems vague on the mission too, Grace assumes his memory also suffered some kind of an issue from being in stasis, he's just glad he's not alone.

Then they run into Blip-A and they're even more not alone, Rocky moves in, everyone does science, Simon still doesn't really seem to have an area of expertise per se, Grace keeps waiting to remember the part where Simon joined the mission (he's sure he'd remember him), Simon's kind of sweating bullets still wondering how he's supposed to explain anything, and then the whole fishing trip on Adrian goes pear-shaped and Simon uses like. Eldritch blood magic...?

Grace is having trouble computing that but he definitely saw it. So. Guess that explains why he's on the mission, if someone found a literal space wizard they would want them on the Mankind-saving mission, if ever there was a time for some kind of secret cult society of wizards living under the radar to come out in the open it would be now, yeah. But Grace can also see where explaining that to an amnesiac would be awkward and seem too hard to believe.

He has connected the dots!

Anyway he doesn't really notice that his Simon Joins the Mission and Reveals Wizards memories never arrive, he's too distracted by the revelation that Stratt forced him to go on the mission and he didn't volunteer, and then there's the whole issue with the taumoeba breaking containment and turning back to rescue Rocky and save Erid, which they both agree to do. By that point Simon has established himself as a presence in Grace's mind and Grace no longer considers him that much of a mystery to be solved (Simon's abilities are, Simon himself is not), whenever Simon lets slip something about like, competing for food or being in prison or in a cult, Grace just assumes he himself was pretty sheltered from how bad the situation on Earth was getting due to being in the Project Hail Mary bubble, and is like yeah okay Stratt double fair play to you, I didn't realize it was getting quite so Mad Max out there.

Now up until this point, Simon has done a good job of staying out of Grace's logs. Grace has mentioned him but in such a way that everyone on Earth probably thinks he's hallucinated an imaginary friend in the isolation and stress, like well damn he's cracked but at least the science seems sound.

Yes sure Dr Ryland Grace, your good friend Simon the One-Armed Blood Wizard is up there with you and the aliens, and for that matter so are all of us in spirit. Godspeed and thank you for your noble sacrifice.

Grace himself thinks that Simon is making his own reports, but when they go to send the beetles he's like, no we should do one together to make it clear that we're both agreeing to this and have come to this decision as a team. At which point Simon is just like, well... okay? Still just kind of avoiding conflict by going with the path of least resistance. So he smiles and nods and waves at the camera, and is like Hello Earth, Simon the One-Armed Blood Wizard here. Um. Yeah I'm good with going back to save Rocky and Erid too. Best wishes, and all that.

Simon was dead. 

He was dead and he was in fucking hell. 

The last thing he remembered was the sub exploding. Or maybe imploding. It wasn't like he could see what happened, so he had to assume it was exploding. 

Every orifice was clogged with thick, oozing blood. His ears, his mouth, his nose. His eyes were squeezed shut, and he knew if he opened them he'd probably only see red.  Every wheezing, aching breath tasted of iron, and he swore he was sucking in more blood than air. He practically choked on it, but never seemed to be drowning. 

That's how he knew he was dead. He was somewhere deep at the bottom of the blood ocean, his corpse mutating into something unrecognizable. He was more relieved than anything to be dead and in hell than alive and cognizant of whatever religious bullshit he'd been dealing with before. At least he hadn't succumbed to that…that hive mind shit. 

He was floating, too. Which was a pretty damn good indicator of being dead. People didn't float. He was sure fucked up blood mutations didn't float either. 

His clogged senses were something of a blessing. He couldn't hear the taunting of voices or the gurgles of unknown creatures lurking. Just his muffled heartbeat. 

His heartbeat? 

Simon was pretty certain that he shouldn't have that. Since he was dead and all. 

He hastily reached up to wipe at the blood and muck obscuring his eyes and nearly slipped off of whatever he'd been clinging to. One of his arms - right, there had been that whole fucked up thing where he's pretty sure it got ripped off. Definitely don't think too hard about that, Simon. 

He managed to tug himself a bit further onto the makeshift raft he was on, attempting again to clean his face and eyes of blood. It was caked on so thick it made no difference. No light peeked through, but if he had to guess that had more to do with this fucked up moon than the blood itself. He could feel thick rivulets of the stuff running down his face, quickly squeezing his eyes shut to avoid blinding himself further. 

So he was….alive. For the most part. Now that the fact of it was settling in, Simon realized how much his body fucking ached. 

His head, his face, every bare surface of skin. He ached and burned all over, the pain only dulled by it having been so constant. His arm - the one he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about at all - ached in a way that he was pretty certain meant it was no longer functioning. Or there. Which, yeah, that ….that made sense. 

The thought had him gagging, but he swallowed back what he could, shaking his head a little. 

“Fuckin’ - don' fuckin’ puke…..Don' puke. Puking ‘s gonna make this a thousan’ times worse”  he muttered, the blood so thick in his ears that his voice sounded muffled even to himself. Speaking felt like trying to get his mouth around a bite full of jelly, his tongue clumsy with the sheer amount of blood on it. 

God, he hoped he hadn’t swallowed too much already. Simon didn't exactly wanna end up becoming a religious-freak-monster if he could help it. Though, if he kept floating around like this for long enough he was sure he would.  

He was beginning to resign himself to floating in blood for eternity when something big splashed into the blood next to him. 

The waves it caused washed over him, sending him tumbling and choking into the blood, his grip on his makeshift life raft failing and slipping. He fought against the torrent of disturbed blood, barely managing to get his head above this surface, every limb fighting to keep him afloat. He sucked in a choked, gasping breath, desperately writhing in an attempt to not immediately begin sinking again. 

Somehow, between the bloody waves and the lack of enough limbs to fight the force of the current, Simon managed to keep himself afloat for long enough to realise what was happening.

He was being rescued. 

They had come back for him. They had come back for him and were trying to save him. 

Fuck trying to save humanity, he wanted out. He wanted to live. 

They were rescuing him and he'd be damned if he missed this opportunity. He managed to flail his way to the object that had splashed down, his fingers scrambling against the smooth surface for a moment before catching on what felt like some sort of opening. It hissed and fell open, Simon scrambling to climb inside. It was tiny and cramped, and he somehow felt like it wasn't meant to fit a whole person. 

Maybe it wasn't a rescue, then, but a retrieval. 

He tried not to think too hard about what they’d be retrieving. 

Blood nearly filled the small space, Simon only just able to keep his head, mouth and nose above the surface of the thick liquid, his shuddering, painful breaths filling the small space. If not for the blood in his ears, the echoing of it might have driven him crazy. 

The opening he'd crawled through suddenly closed, the little light he'd been using to navigate suddenly cut off as it sealed shut. 

Rescue or not, Simon had made his choice. 

Not even a second later, he was being lifted. 

Blood sloshed inside the small space, Simon gasping and coughing as he was forced to hold his breath, attempting to stabilize himself with his remaining arm as he was jostled. 

His head hit one of the walls, sending exploding pain throughout his entire skull. One more concussion couldn't hurt, surely. 

He gritted his teeth against the pain, spitting blood and viscera from his mouth, trying his damndest to just breathe and hold on. 

He was being rescued, whether they liked it or not. He was alive. And they wouldn't be pulling a damn corpse out of this thing. 

And that was the last thought he had before his head slammed into the wall again and he was out like a light. 

–-----

When he came to, his skull was thrumming with pain, wave after wave of blinding ache making his stomach rolled with nausea. 

His sense were still fucked - his ears and nose clogged with blood, his mouth tasting of the thick, foul substance. His eyes were caked in it, but when he peeked them open a little, he could see light. A lot of light. 

More than he’d had in the sub, even. 

It almost was like- 

Something blocked the light out a bit, a presence just in front of him. He jolted back, scrambling backward until his back was pressed against some sort of wall. 

There was sound, muffled and garbled. Simon shook his head in an attempt to clear the blood from his ears, wiping at his eyes. 

It was still mostly just light, his eyes filled with blood and unable to focus. 

Bright, white light made him squint, the red film over his eyes doing little to subdue it. Like it had some sort of supernatural source. 

Whatever had blocked the light out before did so once more, a figure taking shape, their head haloed perfectly by the light. 

His ears were still clogged, but he managed to pick out the garbled words. 

“....Hail Mary….fjej…Grace…”

The words made his blood run cold. Of fucking course this was some religious fucking bullshit again. 

Simon scrambled for something-anything to defend himself with. 

At best, it wouldn't even be real. A hallucination in his final moments. At worse, it was another fucking religious freak trying  to get him to do God-knows-what. 

His hands managed to close around something sharp and metallic on the floor next to him, fingers slipping a bit in the thin film of blood that coated it. 

He managed to get his feet under him and launched himself at his assailant, ignoring the muffled protests against him. 

He thrust the sharp object forward, shockingly connecting with something soft and squishy. 

So it was real, and was likely a religious freak to boot. 

He and his assailant tumbled to the ground, a muffled cry of pain escaping their lips, Simon’s hand slipping on the sharp object when he tried to pull it out. It clattered to the ground beneath them, Simon reeling back to punch instead. 

There was a muffled cry of pain when he managed to land one, and he swore he picked up what sounded like a plea to not hurt them. 

He stopped fighting for just a moment, the garbled plea making his breath catch. Religious freak or not, he shouldn't be- he wasn't- 

Something huge and heavy slammed into his side, sending him tumbling to the floor again. 

It jostled his aching head, his ribs cracking painfully upon landing. 

More muffled sounds, more garbled pleas, and something like music. 

Fuck, maybe he was dead. 

Simon didn't move for fear of whatever had slammed into him hitting him again, his breaths coming out wheezing and aching, his head throbbing. He shouldn't have done that - it wasn't a hallucination, he was supposed to be better than that. He wasn't violent. He didn't mean to. He wasn't the butcher. 

He sucked in a sharp, painful breath when something touched him. A hand- it felt like. 

It gently squeezed his arm, a garbled voice calling out to him again, hardly clearer than before. 

“...okay!...just….’s alright!...cky- ….understand?”

Simon sucked in another painful lungful, shaking his head a bit, barely opening his eyes to see the figure. 

Still blurry and fuzzy. Still haloed by light. 

The figure kept talking, seemingly turning its head away for a moment before turning back to him. 

Simon managed to sit up a bit, wiping at his face again in an attempt to clear the blood from his eyes. 

He blinked away what he could, and though there was still a watery red film over everything, he could see just a little better. He squinted at the figure, features slowly taking shape. 

Eyes, nose, glasses. A very normal, not at all freakish human face. 

A man, maybe. 

He raked his eyes over the figure for a long moment, before realizing the growing splotch of blood on their abdomen. 

Simon sucked in a sharp breath with realization. He’d stabbed them. 

“ ‘m sorry…’m sorry, I didn't mean- ‘m sorry, I thought-” he choked out, unsure what to say. Just that he was sorry, he was sorry, he was so sorry. 

His head throbbed, Simon squeezing his eyes shut against the pain and just hoping in earnest that this was a hallucination, if only to keep him from being the cause of yet another death. 

He mumbled another apology, breathing shakily through his nose, curling in on himself in an attempt to stop the nausea that roiled in his gut. 

The person touched his arm again, so gently that Simon was positive that they were a ghost. They squeezed a little more firmly when he didn't respond, and through the ringing in his ears, Simon managed to make out their voice again. 

“.....okay…n't have to move…..Um- just.… here. .I-…..ken care of…. we-…do about….blood….cky’s….-urt you…. not…hurt you…we’ll- figure…..don't move.” 

The figure let go of his arm, and through the ringing in his ears, Simon could make out that strange music again and a robotic voice somewhere nearby, far different than the figure that had been speaking to him before. 

Fuck, he really was still down there, wasn't he? He'd lost too much oxygen and the alarms were what he was hearing. That was it. The person was just another thing he was hearing and seeing. Just another hallucination. 

Simon didn't know how long he sat there. His fuzzy mind drifted in and out of awareness, sounds on the edge of his senses that he tried very hard to ignore. He tried to focus on breathing, on conserving what little oxygen he could. His mind zeroed in on his own panting breaths, trying to slow his racing heart. 

The bad part about trying not to focus on his senses meant there was plenty of time to focus on thoughts. Memories. Plenty of time to rewatch a gag reel of Simon's Greatest Mistakes on loop. 

His throbbing head and body made it all sort of blend together, at least. Nothing terribly solid, just a crawling feeling of guilt and a yearning to have just one thing go right for him… 

He didn't know how much time had passed, how much oxygen he even had left. He hadn't heard the beep, though he’d surmised before that whatever was keeping him alive down here had somehow been supplying him with it. 

A touch on his arm made him jump, sucking in a sharp breath. Awareness came back sharp and painful, fumbling for his knife in his disoriented state- only to remember he didn't have it. 

He backed away from the touch, only to hit a cool wall, the back of his head thumping against it and jostling his already thoroughly shaken brain. 

Simon chanced a glance at what had touched him, the same figure from…from minutes or maybe even hours ago standing before him again. 

Eyes. Nose. Glasses. 

Simon’s eyes refocused a little, and he hastily wiped at them, blinking away the remnants of blood. The figure was a man. A very normal looking man. 

His mouth was moving, but Simon could only hear that ringing and incredibly garbled speech. 

“..-an ..-stand…me? …aybe…-n't…hear…?” 

Simon tried to piece it together, but his brain was all mush from being jostled one too many times. He shook his head a little and hoped the answer sufficed. 

This wasn't Eden. And it certainly wasn't the COI…. Far too…sterile. Clean. 

The man frowned faintly, glancing off to the side. As if speaking to someone. 

Simon followed his gaze to what looked like a weird, fucked up rock inside some kind of…glass ball-thing. 

All of this being an elaborate hallucination was definitely not off the table. 

And then the thing moved, and Simon’s chest seized with fear, hand automatically going to the knife that wasn't there again. 

Not weird alien shit again. He couldn't do that again. He had to get the fuck out of here. 

[ TBC after I decide if Ryland Grace knows any ASL. Simon definitely won’t but it'd be a start to them communicating ig

He glanced around for some sort of exit, but it was all bright lights and buttons - not a door in sight.

No door - no exit. 

Just like that fucking sub. 

The thought had his head spinning - maybe he really was in hell. Or heaven? No, he'd never possibly be able to get into heaven. 

*

Maybe some aliens had scooped him out of the blood and were fucking with him for shits and giggles. Didn't really explain the supposed human man he stabbed, though. Because he was….he was pretty certain that had happened. 

He could think about the logistics of it later. Right now he had to get the hell out of here. 

Simon scrambled to his feet, boots sliding dangerously on the smooth floor beneath him, spreading blood and viscera in his wake. Standing helped - even if his vision did swim dangerously when he did so, the room warbling this way and that. 

He could vaguely hear the man and the alien-rock-creature calling out to him, but he was determined to make his escape. 

He spotted a doorway with another section beyond it - that was his chance. It wasn't an exit, but maybe he could barricade it or-or something. 

Simon took off running, using what remained of his little energy to boost himself forward, years of pushing himself to the brink allowing for one last burst of desperate adrenaline- 

His boots slipped on the too-smooth floor, sliding across it and sending him straight to the floor, a loud CRACK! resounding as his face made contact with the floor and everything went black. 

°°°

( forgive me if Grace POV isn't great yet and also Rocky's speech patterns aren't right, I haven't fully downloaded them into my brain year if you know what I mean) 

“ I'm willing to bet this concussion he's got has something to do with why he can't understand me, he was speaking English and all,” Ryland rambled, pacing back and forth across the dormitory - or what space was left of it. 

♫Do not care. Hurt Grace.♪

“ I wonder if I could do something similar with the computer to help translate - could easily rig up some kind of speech to text, but that won't matter if he can't read it…” 

♪Other human hurt Grace. Rocky do not care about communicating, statement.♩ 

Ryland sighed, running a hand down his face at the words.

He had gotten stabbed and it had hurt so bad, but….

♩♫Grace listening, question?♩ 

He was probably just scared! That made sense. If Ryland had woken up on a strange space ship- 

Well, he had, hadn't he? And if his memory was correct, he too had been fighting - just that it was against Armando rather than another human. 

So, yeah, probably just scared. 

Plus, he'd apologized! Ryland could barely hear him, given that he was panicking a little, but he'd still apologized! 

He couldn't imagine this supposed human had had an easy go of it. For one, he'd shown up in their probe covered in blood and viscera. And he'd been missing an arm. And if Armando was to be believed, he had pretty severe injuries - not ones that Ryland would think were gotten just from being submerged in a blood ocean, anyway. 

Ryland suddenly stumbled as something knocked into his legs, only barely managing to catch himself on the wall. 

“Hey-” 

Rocky had rolled over and knocked into his legs, gesturing as if he'd been trying to get Ryland's attention. 

♬Grace not listening! Other human dangerous! Scary! Put other human back on moon!♩

The very idea of it made him nauseous,

 “ What!? I'm not going to-”

♩ Fine. Rocky do it. To keep Grace safe. ♬

“Wait-!”

Rocky was tumbling away before Ryland could stop him, presumably to prepare a probe to shoot the unknown man back down to the moon they were orbiting. 

“ Rocky, wait-wait wait wait wait!” Ryland hurried to stand in front of him - even if he know Rocky could bowl him over quite easily if he wanted to, “ we can't send him back down there - he just! He was probably just scared, okay?”

Rocky kept trying to roll past Ryland, fidgeting restlessly even as he spoke. 

♪ Other Human hurt Grace! Must go back. Danger danger danger danger ♩

He repeated the word endlessly, Ryland let out a groan of frustration, continuously moving over the gaps to keep Rocky in place, “ No, no, we're not- quit moving! We're not sending him back, Rock!” 

[TBC]

He pulled his hands away, trusting that Rocky was listening and wasn't going to immediately try and roll past him again, “ That's why we stopped here in the first place, right? We just…happened to find a potential new companion, too” 

Rocky seemed to consider the point for a moment. 

♩ Rocky trust Grace. Rocky will make sure Other Human won’t hurt Grace again.♬

The sentiment made Ryland smile, huffing a laugh, “Thanks, bud. I'm glad you have my back.” 

°°°

Simon groaned as awareness slowly came back, his head aching with constant, throbbing pressure. His ears rang and he grit his teeth against the piercing, never ending sound, the action only making the pressure in his head worse. 

He was somewhere lit, at least, not nearly as dark as the sub. Even if the light hurt his eyes, he opened them a little, squinting against it. 

“Eye….-ve-nt….texted…go-....-ing…cr-..ate” 

Simon gasped at the seemingly disembodied voice, sitting up far too quickly, his chest seizing with fear. He squinted against the bright room, groaning at the pain it caused. But he had to know there was another person here - he couldn't be hearing shit again! 

Something in his face restricted his movement, and when he reached up he discovered it was a mask. He ripped it off his face and tossed it to the side, panting a little with the exertion of even something as simple as that. 

He tried to look around, but his eyes couldn't focus. He just knew it was bright. And there didn't seem to be another person around. 

“ …-dy….-ment….detected- ….-ave…vere…concus-....-ultiple…-nifi-nt injur-...pl-...-ack…the…-dical…-latform.” 

“YO-YOU'RE NOT REAL! GET- UGH- GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY HEAD!” He stumbled off of whatever he'd been lying on, nearly face-planting onto the floor in the process. Fuck, his head ached. His body ached too, though it was far duller than his head. It didn't matter either way, he had to get the fuck out of here.  

He didn't know how he got here, or where here was, but if they had followed him to this place…well, it couldn't be good. 

Through the static in his head he could hear the voice again, but he just groaned and tried not to listen. 

At least he couldn't hear the voice well past the ringing, a small blessing. Even voices in his head could be silenced by a little blunt trauma, who knew. 

Something moved in the corner of his vision, Simon whipping around unsteadily to face it - certain that it was another hallucination. 

He squinted against the lights, his vision fuzzy. Something spindly and white, like a long, bony arm, was coming towards him - hand outstretched as if to grab him. He stumbled backwards, nearly falling through a doorway into a slightly dimmer corridor. 

The voices called out to him again as he turned and hurried down the dark corridor, the lack of bright light helping his head just a bit. It didn't really help the overwhelming dizziness and the slowly encroaching nausea, but that was a problem for when he was safe. 

Anywhere that Simon's clumsy feet went, the voices followed, his hands coming up to cover his ears in an attempt to be rid of them - even if he knew they were in his head. 

He stumbled down another dimly lit corridor, flinching when lights seemed to come on as he passed. If he could just…could just get his head on straight and get his bearings- 

“FUCK-” Simon let out a yelp as he tripped over god-knows-what in his path, sending him sprawled across the floor. 

The impact made every bit of him ache all over again, the adrenaline only helping so much as he struggled to get back up. 

The sight when he stood up sent a chill down his spine, his breath seizing for a moment. 

Stars. Thousands of them. 

Even through his blurry vision, the light they gave off- this couldn't be real. This could not be real. 

He sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly aware that he wasn't getting enough air. That must have been it. Lack of oxygen. 

“ this isn't real…hah….can't run from something that isn't real, Simon, you know that…” He panted, letting out an incredulous laugh. His breaths came shallower and shallower, each one not nearly enough. He was going to suffocate here, but at least he got to hallucinate the stars. It was a nice thought, to die delusional at the bottom of that damn ocean. 

Until something touched his shoulder. 

He flinched back automatically, a soft murmur following, even if he couldn't hear it past his quick, shallow breathing and pounding heart. 

“Fu-...y-...-ky? -cky- St…th…,” 

Simon groaned, thinking for a moment that the voices were back, but the sound seemed to come from in front of him. And something was touching his shoulder. 

He chanced a glance up, squinting against the light. 

This seemed awfully familiar by now. 

A figure. Haloed in white light. Asking him questions- 

Simon tried to focus on the figure, having a sudden sense of deja vu - 

Eyes. Nose. Glasses. 

The figure came into focus, the same man from before. So that….that must have been real. Maybe. 

The man was still talking, whether it was to him or not, Simon wasn’t sure. He couldn't make out what he was saying, still contending with the lack of oxygen, his throbbing head and the ringing in his ears. 

The man at least seemed to notice that Simon was watching him, his mouth moving as if speaking. It was all too garbled for Simon to even begin to make out. 

“Can’t-” Simon gasped, trying to catch his breath and failing, “ need- fu-fuck- need air-”

The man seemed lost for a moment, nervously glancing around before turning his attention back to Simon. He said something, but Simon couldn't make it out, the words all garbled and strange. 

He didn't seem at all perturbed that there wasn't enough oxygen - in fact he began to take deep, slow breaths, almost performatively.

He pointed at Simon. 

Oh. He wanted Simon to copy. 

“But- fuck- the-the oxygen…” He sputtered, still not entirely convinced that this man wasn't just a hallucination trying to get him to die faster. 

He coughed out as much, shaking his head, “ no-no y-you're not- not real- just getting me to-fuck- to die quicker!” 

The hallucination - man - whatever the fuck that thing was, reached out and grabbed Simon's hand. He flinched back, but the man kept his grip, placing Simon's hand on his chest. 

A heartbeat. Rabbit-quick, but still a very…human heartbeat. A very real heartbeat. 

“nononono this isn't-” 

The man began taking the deep, practiced breaths again, though he seemed to tremble slightly on the inhale - like he was nervous. Or scared. 

Right. If he was real. Then that meant Simon stabbing him had….had also been real. 

Simon began to mimic his breathing, just trusting his own touch for a moment. He could touch this man. He could feel the very heartbeat and breaths of this living person. 

So for a moment, maybe he could trust that it was real. 

He began to take shuddering, deep breaths, trying his best to follow along with the man's breathing, his oxygen-starved lungs burning a little still. 

He glanced up at the man again. The lights were still bright and still made his head ache, but… this was just a man. Not some otherworldly being determined to kill him. 

His eyes trailed down to where he had stabbed the man before. Sure enough, his shirt had a tear in it, and a dark bloodstain. He could just barely see the bandages beyond.

He immediately felt bad. 

“I’m….I'm sorry about…about before,” He murmured, frowning faintly. His head throbbed, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the pain.  He wanted to grab his head to soothe the ache, but he couldn't bring himself to pull away from the first kind human touch he'd had in a while. 

“-’ts -kay!....-ot…-but…-st'-...sc-” 

Simon could feel the vibrations in the man's chest as he spoke, but his head was too full of fuzzy, painful static to decipher it. 

“I can’t…I don’t understand,” He muttered, squeezing his eyes shut against the light, the pain in his head and body starting to become overwhelming now that he wasn't running for his life. 

He could feel the man speaking again, and then he began to pull away. Simon grabbed at the man's shirt, trying to keep him there. He needed to know that it was real. That he wasn't just talking to a ghost. 

“...to- …-et…” The man seemed to stop himself, before he placed a hand over Simon's, giving it a couple of light taps.

Simon didn't know what that meant.  He hoped it wasn't…bad. 

There was suddenly an arm around his shoulders, Simon jumping at the touch, the rumble beneath his hand indicating that it was probably just the man. Damn, he needed to figure out this guy's name. He can't just keep calling him ‘the man'. That was lame as fuck. 

The man said something, and gently removed Simon's hand from his chest. Simon only let him because the man was now pressed against his side, and he could still faintly feel his heartbeat. 

This was real, this was real, this was real.

[TBC]

Witch: And that is?

She is what interests me in either of you

Like why are you even here if not for her story bro

This leads to a triple reasoning of 1) more dynamic, 2) more “deserving”, and 3) forbidden homosexual relationship to have the two guys leave the boring unworthy hetero female lead for each other just to subvert expectations.

because here’s the thing. i’ve harped before on how fucking dumb it is to take the character whose central line in the og show was “no matter how things may seem to change, never forget who you are” and have them immediately afterwards 1. actually somehow just not leave the country they were banished from, and 2. deliberately and knowingly choose to have their own memories wiped. like ???????!!?

and yeah, that then leaves the question, when it’s revealed in late s3 that she was banished and is possibly still alive: why didn’t she ever come back for her kids? why didn’t she at least seek out zuko, who was also banished and therefore at least theoretically accessible to her? why didn’t she try to intervene when she presumably learned about the agni kai and her son’s disfigurement? and if she never learned of it, how could that be without her either deliberately forgetting she had kids or choosing to actively ignore any opportunity to get information about them?

and my friends, this is where the silliest part of the whole kerfuffle is. because there was ALREADY a built-in, solid, well-explored piece of worldbuilding that could very easily have answered all of those questions in a way that wouldn’t fundamentally violate the basic foundations of her character’s nature. that piece of worldbuilding? the city of ba sing se.

As a writer, this solves so many of your problems. If Ursa ends up in ba sing se (which there’s decent reason for her to do, given that it’s entirely reasonable that she’d be worried about ozai changing his mind and deciding he needs to tie up loose ends, and that the city just repelled iroh, making it about the most secure location she could get) then once she makes it inside the walls she discovers there is no war in ba sing se. suddenly, trying to get information about anything to do with the fire nation, let alone the royal family, becomes extremely difficult and dangerous. she has a plausible reason not to know, or have very little and extremely delayed awareness of what’s happening to her children.

also, the city is fucking massive and packed to the brim with refugees. even with zuko and iroh getting all about the lower and upper ring, it’s completely plausible for her to have even still been there without amnesia and just. never happened to cross paths. big cities are like that. you could see a million people in a day that you’ll never see again and they’ll only be a tiny fraction of all the people there that you’ll never catch a glimpse of. plus, once you’re lucky enough to get in as a refugee, it’s probably not so easy to leave again, especially if you want to have a chance of being able to come back.

if you really want the amnesia plot, the dai li/joo dee worldbuilding is already set up there too! all you have to do is have ursa keep trying to find out about her kids, maybe even discover zuko’s banishment and try to either reach out or leave the city in response, and have the dai li catch her in a sting to crack down on citizens promoting awareness of the war.

badabing, badaboom, ursa gets joo dee’d and now you have an amnesia plotline without ursa deliberately abandoning even the memory of her kids.

I also thought it was far more tragic to work off what Zuko said, that they were a happy family once, but Ozai had a bigger love for power than family.

I know as a kid he could've not realized how things actually were, but it just hits me harder to think that they were a happy once, and from Ozai's lust of power, his family fell apart, it broke, it grew weak and divided. Conflicting.

And it just added to the lesson of pursuing absolute power is a loss of love, a collapse of your house, a weakness in your foundation.

How the higher you climb, the farther you are from the roots that held you up and together, and it makes the fall far more devastating.

His want of power over family, he sent away the wife he once loved.

Turned an older brother against him to plot in secret.

Banished the son that would help lead to his defeat.

Broke his most loyal and effective daughter and soldier as he left her behind.

And all it left him was being alone and overconfident. No one to come to his aide as he faced the wrath and mercy of the Avatar.

Teenagers are basically primed to make mistakes. That's kinda the whole gig. Just old enough to do stuff on their own and still figuring out how to weave in and out of it. It’s worse when they start out as well intended mistakes. Imma be real here, i am a parent. I have a teenager. Sometimes she makes mistakes and learns something. Sometimes she just goes "maybe I didn't break the rules the right way."

So here is the thing. Marinette is 15. 15 is a special age. Later curfew, grown up feelings without grown up knowing, and the unfortunate urge to "handle it yourself".

She has also been handed the literal weight of the world. Which. No 15yo ever is ready for that, and she already had anxiety and imposter syndrome before that started. She is getting terrible advice but she is at this point someone who is suffering under lets call it "chronic trauma". Over and over over again the narrative has demanded that she and only she is responsible for everything that happens around her, to her and through her. She has once used nearly every Miraculous in very short order, and has now fused the cat and ladybug - which I have mentioned is likely incredibly dangerous.

How are people looking at her as some sort of evil villain? People lie about grief all the time. We try to make things gentler. We lie at funerals. Marinette feels both that she failed to save Gabriel and that she as good as killed him. (If she'd been a few seconds faster, he wouldn't have died. That's not rational or right. But it is what she is feeling.

She is a kid. Wrong choices - maybe? Good impulse. Sure. We can give her that. But as much trauma and pressure as she was under at the moment and is still under *now*? From the people she trusts? From the adults around her? Was it a choice that Marinette made or a situation where the window is broken and she's the one left holding the ball?

Learn from it? I have so much fucking compassion for this little girl that at this point I am just rooting for her to *survive* all of this. This is a lot of complex trauma for someone who is already carrying so much. She doesn't need a lesson. She needs a hug. And like yeah, pick your own fandom experience and all that. I have a big block list. But I was 13 when I first joined fandom spaces. And the prevailing attitudes in mlb fandom as a whole make it unsafe for teens and holding hard lines about responsibilities for trauma and trauma reactions.

There is intent. There is willful desire to cause harm vs a desire to protect oneself and others from harm. There is reveling in lies vs the burden of lies.

And through it all, regardless of the situation, the hate is going to the person who is actually TRYING.

Trying to protect.

Trying to help.

Trying to be good.

Trying to make up for her mistakes.

Trying to simply FUNCTION without accidentally causing the destruction of an entire city by accident with every choice she makes.

Doing all this while effectively being the ONLY responsible party and the one to apologize and be accountable in every situation that goes wrong.

And yet they insist that not only is she the bad guy but that she isn’t suffering enough.