#megaxrox

Gonna start posting snippets of wip fanfics I'm doing! Good ideas but not fully fleshed out. Inspired by @buginateacup and how they talk and go through their work 💙

Roxanne after ‘The Rain Scene’

Hurt, discomfort, self loathing, anger, sadness. She feels everything and more about the situation she’s been through. Megamind has tricked her and she is hurt. More than hurt. From her perspective she’s been toyed with and perhaps seen as just part of Megamind’s games. He thought she was dumb enough to trick and it turns out he was right. She wants to believe how sorry he looked in the rain, eyes cast downward and pouring what looked to be his soul into the streets. She wants to believe. The man she thought she knew, she would have believed. The man, forlorn, and broken down to the saddest expression she had ever seen him make, is something she is struggling to believe.

Walking into her apartment, drenched to the bone, freezing, and mentally exhausted, all she can think of is the man she left in the streets. Walking away from her slowly, defeated and when she had turned around, it almost convinced her to call out to him. Which, keeping her pride, she had not. 

Turning the lights on, she sees the scene of her apartment in disarray, from her early escapades. She now knows it was probably formulated and directed by Megamind himself, sitting with her in her own apartment. Roxanne is furious. She thought she had figured it out with her partners help, the evidence of Titan was sitting in front of her face. Now she realizes he had probably goateed her along in the right direction, not thinking her smart enough to look at his floating ideas as a whole, not smart enough to figure out his real plans of building a superhuman. Not smart enough to realize who was sitting beside her.

Stepping forward, one of the papers hanging from her ceiling flutters into her face. Roxanne bats it out of the way, only to step into another cloud of sketches. With a flurry of emotional rage she grabs them out of her face, ripping them down. Her hands grab at the air, tangling themselves in red string, as she yanks them down in clusters. Every little drawing is a drawing from him. Every string hung up was one they had put up together. They fall down like streamers. Her frustration wells up in her chest and she lets out a loud cry of pain, falling down to her knees. 

This welling emotion lodges itself in her throat and spills on to her face in tears. The anger from before vibrating into cold, ugly dejection. Roxanne had put her trust in her partner and had that trust thrown back in her face. She had shared her own ideas, her own thoughts with him. He had been laughing behind her this entire time, not taking anything she said with seriousness. Like she wasn’t worth the effort of getting to know normally. Isn’t that just the problem. By the end of their relationship, because more than anything she knows it is over, Roxanne had almost been willing to hand over her heart to him. She stepped out towards him and instead of him reaching back she felt like she had been slammed into a wall. 

Her chest fills itself with air, hard and rugged, and by the time she exhales her whole body aches. Roxanne is so very exhausted, mentally, emotionally and physically. Shivering on the ground, cold and damp, she pushes herself off the floor with a fighting effort. Nothing left about the night could hurt her any more than it already has. Roxanne drags herself towards her cabinets, grabs a bottle of wine, no glass, and retreats to her bedroom, not once turning around.