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bruce-wayne-simp · 1 year

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Ok im watching pirate radio/the boat that rocked because I'm a Tom Sturridge stan now

(The movie follows Carl (Tom Sturridge) a 17 year old who got expelled from school for doing drugs. His mother sent him to live on a boat with his godfather Quenton and the band of DJs who run the pirate radio. Shenanigans ensue, the British government tries to take them down, its a good time. Also its set in the late 60s)

I'm like 15 minutes in and it's awesome so I'm gonna liveblog i guess

This is gonna be very Carl-heavy (see 'im a Tom Sturridge stan' above)

Also spoilers if you care about being spoiled for a movie that came out in 2009

From the summary i thought Carl was gonna be some tough-guy rebel but he's just so smiley and innocent and respectful and it's rly sweet. Idk if it's a British thing or what but yeah

The guys are all very stereotypical "guys" and i honestly kinda love it

The one scene where Carl is kinda settling in on his first day and he comes into the Count's DJ space(?) is so funny. Hes like 'are you nervous' and gives Carl a hug then slaps his ass and tells him to get the fuck out

The f-word scene is BRILLIANT. Go watch the clip on youtube it's so good

Carl just revealed hes only been to all boys boarding schools and as a result he is a virgin and has also never kissed anyone. I know enough about this movie to know it comes up later. Also the way he can barely say 'sex' is adorable

Also Carl is very relatable

Midnight Mark is kinda hot ngl

Oh Jesus christ 🤦‍♀️

Apparently 'later' is NOW

Secondhand embarrasment galore oh my god 😭😭😭😭 poor Carl

Dave tried to trick his hookup by letting Carl have sex (basically rape) her so he could lose his virginity. For what it's worth, Carl is reluctant because of the morality of it (and he's an impressionable 17 year old) and she turns the light on and sees him and they both scream

Omg we're at the scene where we meet Bob. Poor Bob does the show early in the morning and nobody ever sees him so when he comes down in the morning everyones like 'who tf are you'

Thick Kevin: what was his name again?

Young Carl: Really?

Oh btw Thick Kevin and Young Carl are roommates on the ship

Aww Quenton gave Carl a date w his niece, Maryanne, for his birthday

Lmaoo he literally said hi to Maryanne and then left and is asking Dave for a condom

'Do you know how it works?' Carl, babe, your answer doesn't sound very convincing

Carl, my love, you JUST MET HER. I cannot overstate how naive he is.

Dave is an asshole. That's all. (He almost fucks up Carls chance with Maryanne and then sleeps with her while Carl is looking for another condom)

'Maryanne, I see you.' Heartbreaking 😭😭

Honestly there are some very sweet moments and this is one of them 😭😭😭

Harold and John bring Carl tea and biscuits while he's sitting on a bench, upset. They don't say anything but by the end of the scene Carl is eating a biscuit and smiling and Harold gives him a hug 😭😭😭😭😭😭

(Link to the scene bcs its so sweet: https://youtu.be/66U9Kfr4UhE )

And honestly when Gavin gives him the condom was kinda sweet too. Like he's proud of him and gives him advice (bad advice, but still it's the thought that counts)

I fucking love Felicity. She's the only woman on board full time and that's because she's a lesbian. I hope she gets her girlfriend ❤️

Omg Midnight Mark was having an orgy lmaoo

Simon is so sweet😭😭 He went to Carl and Kevin's room and told them he's getting married and I'm pretty sure just asked Carl to be his best man??

'HANDS OFF, YOU LESBIAN' Love it

STAG PARTYYYYYYYY

Omg he's known her for 2 weeks

This entire sequence is very British 😭😭

Oh God they're all hungover

Ooooh who is Carl's father???

God he's so pretty in this scene

Link to gifset (if ur a sandman stan you've seen it before):

'I think sometimes i should be called Clever Kevin. What do you think about tha-' *falls out of bed*

THE WAY CARL DIDN'T EVEN FLINCH AT KEVIN FALLING 💀

Aww Simons speech to the listeners about his wedding was sweet

THE WEDDING

Simon holding Carls hand and Carl being like wtf and walking away

Quenton: We are gathered here in the sight of God, apparently. Which is, I don't know, scary?

Carl is smoking while being Simons best man i love him (Protip: looking for Carl in a scene? Look for a cigarette first)

Oh god Simons new wife just told him she's in love with Gavin

Oh no she only married Simon to get on the boat to get with Gavin :( Poor Simon

Top tier music choices all around though

Harold is such a good friend

Everyone here has two brain cells between them (yes im at the Chicken Game)

Aww Gavin apologized to Simon

Lmao they're basically playing never have i ever

Aww Carls mom is coming by

'Just in case you wanted to brush your hair or hide that stack of pornography you keep on that shelf' QUENTON

Oh god he's dreading seeing her

Aww Kevin wished him luck 😭😭

He asked if Quenton was his dad and his mom was like 'uh no wtf'

Its BOXING DAY

'It was a shag well shagged the night you made this little fella' Dave to Carls mom

DAVE SAID CARL IS ONE OF THEM AND THEY WANT HIM TO STAY FOREVER AWWWW

The posh government people on boxing day im sobbing its so funny and silent

Oh god Bob is Carls father (Bob gave Carl a message earlier and he told her right before she left)

She was like 'How old are you' and did the math from there lmaoo

CARLS MOM SLEPT WITH MARK HAHA

'Telll Mark it was a lovely night!' 'NO! NO!!' lmfaooo

Carl is telling Bob hes his dad oh my god its so sweet

JOHN DON'T INTERRUPT. FUCK

Parliament just created an act making pirate radio illegal as of new years day

Quentons like 'pirate radio is dead' and everyone else is like 'nope'

The Count pulled the 'Murica card lmaoo

'Obviously im in. You're the only people in the world who like me' IM GONNA SOB GIVE CARL A HUG RN

OMG MARYANNE IS BACK

And her friend Margaret

Carl ur so fucking cute (he ssked if she wanted to play scrabble or something 😭😭😭)

OUR BOY IS DOIN IT

omg is Felicity gonna sleep with Margaret??

Lmfao the FUNNIEST SCENE

Ok so Carl comes out of his room in the morning, he turns around and the entire ship is standing there cheering, The Count is on the air and the nation (20 MILLION PEOPLE) are waiting with baited breath as to if Young Carl lost his virginity

The Count is asking him if he did it lmaoo

The Count: -and remember, the reply 'i don't wanna answer that question' means yes

Young Carl: im certainly not going to answer that question

Lmao John is reporting it as news 😭😭 'a nice young man has lost his virginity in the north sea'

Lmao Felicity and Margaret are popping their heads out of another door and everyones smiling GOOD FOR HER

Lmao they're leaving and Felicity is holding a huge sign that says I love you

Listen its the 70s lesbians gotta do what lesbians gotta do

Omg the govt raided the wrong ship 💀💀💀

Holy shit the engine just exploded on the ship as they were sailing away

'Ok the good news is the engine has just exploded and we're all going to die' Quenton NEVER misses

(The bad news is theyre gonna drown/freeze to death in the North Sea btw)

Theyre asking fans for help

Gavin: Here's a rather long record. I hope I'm here at the end of it.

FUCK

They're all grabbing the shit they can/stuff they want and can carry

Carl just ate shit oop

Oh wow the government isnt gonna save them bcs of 'costs'

Midnight Mark is a badass. Going through a sinking ship in leather pants?? Unmatched. Icon.

Lmao Angus is like 'i know nobody here particularly likes me but I'm glad to have known you all' and Simon is like 'no!! Everyone here likes you. Raise your hand if you like him'

And everyone does except Dave who tries and can't make himself do it so Simon says to be honest and everyone puts their hands down lmaoooo

Oh no where's Bob? Also Carl literally says 'where's my dad?' And i just wanna know if everyone knew beforehand or if that's how they found out who Carls dad is

Omg Bob had no clue the boat was sinking because he was listening to music

Bob just let go of your fucking case you are both DROWNING

Aww Dave saved Carl bcs he felt guilty about sleeping with Maryanne

God they're climbing up to the top of the ship now

Oh no the Count is gonna go down with the ship

Lmao Carl said fuck

FANS ARE COMING TO THE RESCUE

Theyre jumping in to swim to the rescue boats and Bob and Carl held hands to jump in together 😭😭

Gavins doing a backstroke lol

MARYANNE SAVED CARL (and kevin)

The rest of the ship is going under

THE COUNT RETURNS

EVERYONE'S ALIVE WOO

And the movies over, bye lol

#pirate radio #the boat that rocked #tom sturridge #rhys darby #should i tag this as sandman #nah #changed some spelling errors oop

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surinnsenpai · 11 months

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when do I know if I’m pushing myself too much?

I’m constantly looking for jobs, despite having one. Despite being promised future projects to work on. Constantly checking up on the job outposts of studios that ghost me and have never actually looked at my portfolio. I have 37 websites up on my computer, all of them are job postings, and every other week, I open them all and look for a fitting job. And when I don’t find anything, I look to my portfolio and think of what I can do better.

Can I do better. Yes, probably. What do I do? Well for starters I can redo my portfolio. Entirely. I just signed up for a course to improve my craft. I got stuck the moment I had to learn a new program. That sucks. I can’t move forward, can’t just sit down and watch a youtube video and learn something that is most likely going to come up at some point in my career once I get a big gig. I SHOULD learn this program, cause it can make everything faster and easier and I can focus om what I need to do. but then again, its hard to sit down and learn something new when i signed up for a course thinking i wasnt going to learn a new program. never mentioned. so now i cant finish the course, and i cant move forward. so what do i do instead?

i turn around and look at the projects i want to work on. a new direction. i deepdive into the works of the studios i want to work at, and i look at the style and format and how different my experience is with how the industry actually is. i dont know how to make a board for games, gameplay and cinematic cutscenes. i dont know how episodic boarding works, how they put the cameras and how basic is too basic in camerawork. all i know is cinematic cuts with a few pages worth of boards. i haven’t boarded 100 pages for one show, not counting my own comic which is not a film board, its a comicbook. my experience and how i board is based on scenes and directors wishes and thats all. i know little about format, despite knowing a whole lot about it. i cant really see the differnce between a scene in an episode of a show versus a scene from a movie. or i can see it, but i cant replicate it.

so now i lament over the fact that i cant even board correctly. and i cant get work because im a periferal boarder and theres no work here, and theres even less now that the summer is here and everyone is enjoying their vacation.

so i look at videos to improve, but none of the videos tell you the difference in the format other than which way to hold the paper when you board. the shots and formats and camera angle, i know, but what about the buildup, the invisible shots that are basic but not so basic you wouldnt hire a boarder to make? and i look again to the studios i want to work at, the people i wish to look at my work and see and nod and like what they see. so i google them and check it out, and i look at the job listings in hopes that i can apply to be seen and evaluated, but hence i am ghosted again. you need contacts.

and i have no contacts. i have emtpy promises and wishes to work with, and no contacts to actually give me work. i am exhausted (mentally) by looking, by studying, by trying to be good and better and be seen by those who matter. the industry is scattered, too much so that i cant even figure out who could be a good contact, let alone a friend. so i try to build a stupid contact list, try to make friends and make it genuine, because i absolutely hate to be a platonic friend just to be used later for work. but that is what happens, and its not very fullfilling to know that you only introduce yourself to work through them.

they say the best contacts are the people who actually becomes your friends. when your chat looks like a regular friendship with sprinkles of job listings. to talk about something more than work.

thats too idealistic for the scattered industry around me.

so now im slowly burning out while maintaining relations i wish i cared for, constantly jobsearch, and always strive to learn what nobody will teach me.

i’m tired

#storyboard #surinnsenpai #personal #honestly this blog is kinda turning into me and my thoughts #but hey all my other platforms are way more public and i dont want to put my thoughts there #so tumblr it is

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keeganlarwin · 1 year

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How I learned to stop worrying about AI Art.

I've had so many thoughts on A.I. art as it has risen in public awareness. Recently it has reached a level of ubiquity where I've been seeing laypeople outside the art community creating some really cool stuff with AI tools.

I think the first instinct for any artist is to feel threatened. In 60 seconds, an AI was able to generate the image above, where something like this would take me days. Weeks, even.

Now, before I begin, these thoughts are taking in mind the numerous ethical concerns of AI art. Artists that are having their works used as training inputs will never see a dime or a lick of credit. Human biases are being trained into these AI platforms. For example, type any input and use the word "man". Then generate that same input with "man" swapped with "woman". The pose, clothing, etc. will be drastically different because of the differences men and women are portrayed in art. It's often egregiously sexist/racist.

But those concerns are not under the purview of these thoughts. I think, as artists who feel threatened by AI Art, there is a significant amount of hope to be found in its rise.

See, since the day I arrived on the scene, the online art community has been obsessed with novelty. Novelty gets attention. Novelty gets likes and shares. People want to see things their eyes and brains have never seen before. It feels good in a world of monotony.

As a younger artist, I did exactly this. Weird simulation? Post it! Funky surreal-yet-photoreal render? Post it! People will love it. If it looks novel or vaguely provocative, it gets posted because novelty is rewarded. Always.

Most artists I follow built their following on novelty. But now A.I. art has made novelty abundant. Any person with access to Midjourney or Dall-e or even Craiyon can make something just as novel or surreal as the most technically gifted Instagrammer out there.

And when everyone's got access to unlimited novelty... Well, nobody is novel anymore. But is that really the end of human art? I think that conclusion is based on a misunderstanding of what art really is.

The rise of NFTs put many crypto-artists in a crisis that many of us watched in real time. They wanted to be remembered alongside Rembrandt and Jackson Pollock. Banksy and Warhol. But they were pushing very technical, usually abstract 3D renders that only really had novelty value.

The ensuing relational aggression between crypto artists calcified into a mantra that went something like this. "You can't just mint your usual renders, it has to have MEANING to be true art."

Well we all know how that ended. Turns out making art with "meaning" (whatever that means) is a lot harder than making something with 5 seconds of attention span worth of novelty value.

The truth is, the digital art world IS going through a crisis whether we know it or not. Artists whose entire livelihoods are based on novelty are in actual jeopardy because of AI art.

And as AI asset generation methods only sophisticate further, more and more jobs are going to disappear in art-heavy industries like marketing and game dev. But we're not there yet. And if you're an artist reading this, there's still time. And there's still hope.

With an overabundance of novelty value in art, driven by this AI revolution, I'm willing to bet the "value" of novelty will plummet. We will be increasingly unimpressed by the increasingly fantastical images AI and artists are able to put in front of our faces.

Even now I'll see a matte painting in a movie that would have made me poop my pants in 2016. But now my reaction as an observer is "ah yes, another gorgeous, intricately detailed matte painting." There's no feeling there. The sight of a pleasing image is no longer compelling.

Ultimately, It's a damning view of how modern audiences parse media. The obsession with novel images is a far different view of art than people have had throughout history. Not to say art and novelty can't exist in the same breath. But those terms are not synonymous.

The golden nugget of truth buried at the core of all of this is that art is an expression of the human experience. Now, that's an impossibly broad definition, yet still untouchable by artificial intelligence because they lack the single qualifier to be able to make art. Being human. being sentient.

If AI had the power to make true art, it would be art that means something to other AI more than to us. (But that's a whole other conversation about the intersectionality of sentience I'm not going to get into in this thread).

AI can imitate. It can pretend. It can emulate. But until it is a bucket of neurons out in the world experiencing human life, pain, social structures, injustice, inequity, etc. it cannot make human art.

An AI does not understand grief. It does not understand what it's like to carry a child. It does not know the touch of a kitten's fur or the taste of Taco Bell on a road trip. AI does not know the unending pain of being a Browns fan.

Art is expression. An expression of life. Of every input processed by our hormonal, imperfect human brains.

I think A.I. art is exposing--HAS exposed--the lack of this in much of the human art we consume today. And soon it may not matter how beautiful an image or a sound is. What will matter is how much that sound or image means to someone else.

This is the new mandate for human artists. A mandate that I think has been neglected for a long time. To create, not for novelty value, but for the sake of connection. To take a piece of yourself and put it into words or colors or sounds and give it to the world. To create vehicles for emotional discourse.

In the end, AI art may have freed us from our own worst instincts. The way the nuclear bomb was a terrible thing that changed the way wars are fought, AI art is an anchor that will steer us into a new trajectory of human artistry.

It isn't without it's ethical dilemmas. But it doesn't spell the end for human artists. In fact, it just might be the beginning of something better.

#ai #ai artwork #midjourney #ai art generation #dall e ai

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jimmyfissionart · 5 years

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Sleep now...

#dark city #movies #art #my art #fan art #digital art #sci fi #science fiction #alex proyas #rufus sewell #jennifer connelly #kiefer sutherland #an entire weeks worth of work for a movie nobody's seen #but it's good one

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theveryworstthing · 4 years

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So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class. I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace. I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway. This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

#long post #the addams family #Character Design #au #design challenge #i am incapable of doing a design challenge like a normal person #oh god i forgot the cut lol

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gingersnaaps · 3 years

Text

"yes" is conditional

the whorification of y/n, courtesy of one kuroo tetsurou and his special... talents <3

wc: ~2.4k

tags/tw's(PLEASE READ): dubcon, expicit n*fw, brainwashing/conditioning, mindbreak, bimbofication, mental aphrodisiac, exhibitionism mentions, uh implied sexual slavery(there's a cage at the end??), corporate!setting, fem!reader with inner genitals,

a/n: written for @sugawara-sweetheart and her decadence collab!

i don't want minors interacting with my content

The movies always get it wrong.

Kuroo thinks it’s hilarious how far off the mark they can be, honestly. He’s seen countless renditions of what people think mind control is like, and it’s always so corny and contrived - it’s not like he forces anyone to do things they don’t actually want to. He just… makes suggestions.

Nobody actually knows where their own thoughts come from, do they? So it’s almost too easy to place a suggestion or two in the back of someone's mind and pass it off as their own idea.

Most of the time, people are all too happy to comply with these suggestions.

And Kuroo’s more or less content with the free drinks he receives, the frequent raises his boss dishes out, and the one-night stands he easily gets as a perk of his little power. He really does enjoy the gifts other people seem to drop into his lap and the temporary flings he always finds himself in.

But he’s bored.

He wants more. He’s had enough of the short-lived gratification every time he persuades another pretty girl to come home with him.

So when he sees you walk by his office window, with your head always ducked low and your modest outfits all prim and put-together, it’s out of a passing curiosity - just a whim - that he starts his experiment. He wants to know just how far he can go in suggesting ideas and replacing thoughts, just how deep he can reach, and you’re perfect. You’re an unassuming and quiet coworker, you don’t attract attention, and he can tell that you’re one of those good girls just from the way you flush and avert your gaze when he talks to you.

Besides, he’s always wondered what your ass would look like in tighter skirts. Or, alternatively, with no clothes on at all.

Kuroo decides to make a project out of you.

As the days pass, he makes sure to time his coffee breaks so they sync up perfectly with yours. He makes sure not to do anything too overt, though - he doesn’t make you give him your number right off the bat, or ask you out immediately, or even drop any compliments. He wants to play it a little more subtle this time.

You find that you can’t help but take note of him, partly due to his constant presence, but also because you just can’t seem to tear your eyes away. Suddenly, there’s an insistent urge in the back of your mind constantly telling you where to direct your gaze, a little voice that whispers out how good his collarbones look, or how his back muscles ripple out under his shirt when he stretches. Your eyes seem drawn to his - and every time you make eye contact, you start flushing furiously, a tingling warmth spreading down your spine and into your cunt.

When you pass by his office, all he has to do is flash a cheeky grin, wink, and just like that, your panties are fucking soaked. You don’t know why you’re no longer able to control yourself around him, but it must be natural, right? It’s normal to have a relationship with a coworker go from completely platonic to you fantasizing about him stuffing your cunt full, right?

If he’s going to be honest, Kuroo likes seeing how horny he can make you every time he’s close by. He likes the way your face heats up, the way that cute body of yours seems to tense up, the way you cross your legs a little bit tighter when he walks by.

It’s not hard to make up fantasies to put in your mind, either - Kuroo thinks about you nearly all the time, after all. So when he finds himself drifting off in his office, thinking of the way you’d moan and scream and mark up his back if he were to pound you into the mattress, or maybe of how your pretty face would look dripping with his cum as he grips your hair and fucks your face, he doesn’t mind sharing them with you. And the look on your face when he does - oh, baby, it’s so precious.

You must be barely more than a virgin with how absolutely ashamed you act.

And slowly, of course, your wardrobe begins to change. When you find yourself at the mall, you’re no longer looking for conservative sweaters and cardigans that disguise the shape of your body. Maybe you’ve just lost interest in that style, especially with the way you find yourself drawn to the more… vivacious section. Now, you find it empowering to sift through racks of the tightest skirts, of v-neck blouses that give away your cleavage whenever you lean over.

When you show up at work, legs clad in tight stockings and your breasts pushed tight up against your shirt, you feel almost proud when Kuroo sees the way you’re dressed. In fact, when you find your gaze drawn to his, looking into his dark pupils blown wide with arousal, you feel that intense, throbbing heat in your cunt flare up again.

You feel good. You feel happy. You dress this way because you want to.

And when he finally asks you out to dinner, it’s easy - almost second nature - for you to say yes. Why would you ever want to say no when you’ve been so fixated on him for the past few weeks, when your mind has been filled with the dirtiest, unspeakable thoughts, when you’re so undeniably attracted to him?

On that date, you can barely think straight.

You’re just so fucking turned on the entire time, aren’t you? You can’t stop thinking about the way his cock would feel dragging up against your tight, wet, heat, about how his fingers would feel methodically taking you apart, how the flat of his tongue would feel flicking up across your clit.

You don’t care about the food. You barely even notice how much the bill for the dinner comes to. All you can think about is him.

Kuroo finds it almost endearing how tightly you cling onto his side during the taxi ride to your place. He can feel how warm you are, your shallow breaths puffing in and out, the way you tremble when he brings a thumb up to caress your cheek.

His experiment was so fucking worth it. You’re putty in his hands, a little plaything he can mold and shape to his liking.

That night, you are very much to his liking.

You pull him out of the taxi, whispering into his ear how much you’d like to show him around, but he isn’t fooled. You’ve invited him up not because you want to give a tour of your living area, but because you need him, because you don’t really have a choice with the way he’s been conditioning you for the past few weeks.

Barely five minutes have passed before you drag him to your bedroom, stripping off every useless item of clothing off. “Please,” you whimper. “Fuck me. Please. Please. I want it so bad.”

He knows you’re telling the truth, and as he grasps your thighs with his large hands and spreads you until you’re open and dripping, he’s only too happy to oblige.

Sucking gentle kisses along the crook of your neck, he bites at your soft flesh, running his tongue up along your pulse point until you shiver. He reaches down, trailing his hand over your chest and tummy until he arrives at your clit, and rubs slow, feather-light circles that leave you squirming and shaking, bucking into thin air until he grabs your hips and holds them down firmly in place.

He knows you want more. He can tell by the way your puffy clit pulses, swollen and tender, and the way you mewl whenever his fingers brush against your entrance.

“More,” you whisper, eyes wide and pleading. “I need more. Please.”

His cock twitches at the ragged desperation in your voice, and he almost wants to draw it out for a bit longer. You make such a pretty picture - he wants to run his hands through your disheveled hair, all mussed up and soft, wants to hold your face, glowing with sweat and flushed pink, wants to sear how depraved you look into his mind forever.

But who is he to deny you when you’re begging so nicely?

Weeks of pent up frustration have left you so, so sensitive - after all, your short, stubby fingers can’t reach nearly as far as his can, and the angle he’s able to hit every time he curls his fingers in a come-hither there motion isn’t something you could ever replicate. It’s so easy to make you cum when you’re desperate, and he indulges you, making you cream around his fingers as he thrusts them deeper and strokes at your walls.

And when he’s done prepping you, Kuroo finds that fucking into a needy cunt is so much better than just a willing one. Your pussy, slick and dripping wet, almost seems to suck his cock into your hole, and the lewd moan that falls from your lips as he bottoms out sends heat rushing to his core. He goes slow and careful at first - he wants you to enjoy this, after all - but your pussy feels so good, so warm and velvety, that he can’t help but speed up and ram his cock into you until you’re squealing like a bitch in heat. It might feel better without the condom he has on in the way, but that’s okay - he’ll save fucking you raw for another day.

After that night, you only grow more eager. You start doing things you never would’ve even imagined prior to his little interventions - you send him nudes from the work bathroom, slutty pictures that show off the curve of your ass and your tits covered in lace, candid shots of your lips wrapped around your fingers, sucking on them like you would his cock, even pictures of your cunt right after you’ve been touching yourself.

And just days after he’d fucked you for the first time, you find yourself at the pharmacist picking up birth control. You want to feel him cum inside you, to paint your pussy white and stuff you full until his seed is dripping out of you and dirtying the sheets.

Most of all, you want to please him. You want to make him feel good so that he’ll fuck you, offer you some sweet relief from the persistent ache in your cunt that gets particularly intense whenever he’s nearby.

You let him fuck you almost anywhere, anytime. He bends you over the sink in public bathrooms, running his fingers along your folds, or sprawls you out on his lap in his car, his cock deep in your cunt. You don't really mind if other people see the two of you - as long as he's gripping your hips tight, bruising your cervix until your skin blooms black and blue, sticky drool leaking from the corners of your mouth - he could be showing your naked cunt off in the middle of Times Square for all you care.

Kuroo can’t help but beam with pride at the way your demeanor has changed as of late. You used to blush whenever he would make eye contact with you, and now you’re begging him to get you off during rush hour on public transportation.

He likes this new version of you very much.

Months go by, and you find that it gets harder to focus at work. Early on, it was easy to ignore the heat curling in your stomach whenever your thoughts drifted to Kuroo, but now the artificial glare of the screen gives you a headache, and the numbers and letters on the spreadsheets all seem to meld and jumble together until you can’t tell which is which.

You don’t really care about your boss’s performance review anymore. The customers can scream all they like. The most pressing concern on your mind, the one that you just can’t stop thinking about, is the insatiable need for Kuroo to fuck you, to lift you up against the wall and bounce you on his cock like a ragdoll.

Why would anything else matter?

To be completely honest, Kuroo hadn’t anticipated this particular side effect, but he supposes it makes sense that the more thoughts he replaces, the less original ones remain. There’s no longer as much of who you were before left, and - oh, Kuroo really shouldn’t be doing this to you, should he? But he finds that he doesn’t really care, doesn’t really mind, because you look so much better in your tight skirts, so much happier being the slut he’s slowly trained you to be.

He did like you for your personality - he really did. It was nice seeing you cute and quiet, but there’s just no room left for who you were anymore.

We’re all shaped and molded by our environment, aren’t we? The people we surround ourselves with, the places we grow up and live our lives in - it just happened that for you, your environment was Kuroo, and he did the work that society probably would have done anyway - albeit a bit differently, a bit more extreme.

Of course, he’s not delusional. He knows he’s responsible for the way you are now, so when you eventually get fired, he takes you in and lets you live with him. This way, you’re safe and warm and taken care of, and in exchange, he gets easy access to your cunt whenever he wants. There’s no more need for midnight calls or texts, because his pretty little fuckdoll is always waiting for him when he comes home.

He doesn’t have a spare room, but that’s not a problem. He lets you sleep on a couch at first, but the nice, comfy cage he orders for you comes in after just a few days. After all, he doesn’t want all his hard work to go to waste, and besides - you’re content with the few amenities your new accommodations offer: food, water, air, and cock.

Kuroo often finds himself admiring your pretty face, an expectant, needy expression plastered on your features and your eyes glazed over, stuck between the dirty metal bars like a dog waiting for a treat from its owner. He can’t help but think that this is how you were always meant to be, that this is the perfect relationship that makes both of you happiest.

Considering the state you’re in, you really don’t know any better, do you?

if you enjoyed this, please reblog or just drop by my inbox to say hi! requests are open

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immersed-in-mischief · 3 years

Text

Prince Charming- (Loki x Reader) Part 8 FINAL

It all comes down to this! The story of Loki and his Ladybug gets wrapped up here but I’m already planning some fluffy one shots to balance out all the angst of this week! After that, I already have another series in the works with the man himself, Tom Hiddleston! I could always use some more ideas though, so if there is anything you would like to see, please feel free to send me an Ask or a message.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7

Summary: With the identity of his princess finally revealed, where will you and Loki go from here?

Mischief Makers: @ruiningthe1975 @valiantvoidpoetry @nms224 @youlightmeupfinn @salempoe @lokiprompts @oasiswithmyg @saltandapepper @chwlogy @clockblobber @locht3ssmonster @mad4marvelloki

Later that night, you returned to your room to get ready for bed. As you turned on the light, Loki was sitting on the couch across the room.

“Damn it Loki! Creep much?! You scared me half to death!”

When he didn’t respond, you looked over at him again. The discarded ball gown lay in the floor at his feet, and he held the mask you had worn in his hands. You stood in silence and waited for him to say something.

“It was you… “

He looked up at you with tears in his eyes.

“Was it all just some cruel joke?”

Loki watched as you crossed your arms over your chest and closed your eyes. Your voice cracked as you spoke.

“… I could ask you the same thing, Loki.”

He stood and tightly gripped the mask in his fist.

“I thought you were my best friend! Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Your angry tears surprised him as you approached him and stabbed his chest with your finger.

”EXACTLY! I was your best friend! I stood by your side for years, Loki! Years! One stupid mask and you didn’t know me? I guess in a way you never knew me. I shouldn’t have to tell you anything. You should have seen that it was me the second you saw me at the top of the stairs or at least when I spoke. The entire night I waited for it to click for you. I called you by your name. I hinted. I even called you Mischief. I was the fool who actually fell in love with you while trying to fall out of love with you in the first place. If you think I’m actually capable of doing all of this to be cruel, you never did know me at all…”

Loki stood and tried to process what you had just said.

“Wait… you fell in love while falling out of love? What does that even mean?”

You sat down on your bed and hugged your pillow to your chest and wiped away your tears with the back of your hands.

“I had been in love with you for a really long time, Lohk. Everyone could see it but you. I was just your sidekick. Eventually, I started to realize that you were never going to love me back and it hurt. When Nat talked about the chat room, I created a username to watch what was being said. That’s when I came across Chaos. He had just been someone to talk to when I couldn’t sleep until one day you told me you met someone. I pulled away to give myself some space to get over you and Chaos was there. The longer I talked to him, the more feelings developed until Nat and Wanda talked me into inviting him to the party in the kitchen on movie night. When you didn’t care at all that I was talking to someone, I decided to let you go and be okay with where things were going with Chaos.”

His eyes met yours and they were softer now.

“So, I was your Boy Toy all along? I did care about you seeing someone, Bug. Honestly, I was even jealous of him. You became so distant and I missed you but you seemed happy. I didn’t want to ruin that for you.”

This entire thing was difficult for him to wrap his mind around. Loki tried to see it all play out from your perspective.

“Let me get this straight. You’ve had feelings for me this entire time? I’ve never just been your best friend? How could I have missed this? I was losing you to someone else and I didn’t even realize I had you to begin with, Bug. Why didn’t you say something at the ball when you saw it was me?”

“I already knew. You told me without realizing you did.”

He searched his memories until it came to him.

“The costume… I told you I was Prince Charming that afternoon. I sent the photograph to you?”

“Exactly. You talked about meeting her as Prince Charming. Your helmet was in the background of the picture I took. I knew the second you sent the picture to me. That’s why I was late that night. I almost didn’t go through with it… Part of me wondered if it would be easier to stand you up and you wouldn’t never know it was me. Apparently I worried about me showing up as her for nothing...”

He was finally beginning to understand the pain and hurt you felt.

“Instead, you came, and I didn’t recognize you…”

You nodded and buried your face into the pillow as the two of you sat in silence.

“I can’t imagine how much that must have hurt you. I’ve been so stupid this entire time. I’m so sorry, Bug… No wonder you felt invisible. I truly never saw you even when you were right in front of me the entire time. Is that why you’ve been so upset? Because I didn’t realize it was you?”

Loki watched as you lifted your head to look at him with fresh tears in your eyes. You stared into him as you repeated his words back to him.

“A meaningless interaction…”

Loki’s face flashed with confusion until he placed it. His words slammed into him. Like a complete fool, he had dismissed your evening together directly to you without a care in the world. His comment must have broken your heart all over again. You had been treated so horribly and didn’t deserve any of the pain he had caused you. No wonder you were done with him. He leaned against his knees and held his head in his hands.

“You told me my feelings would be returned ten fold, Loki... I trusted you.”

He remembered the moment he told you those words. It was just before you invited him to the ball. The night he realized how quickly he was falling love with you. You had been scared and he reassured you that he would be there to catch you.

“Because you had been hurt before by someone that hadn’t felt the same... You were talking about me? I was the one who hurt you. I guaranteed you then hurt you again.”

“I waited years for you to kiss me, Loki. That night was magical for me. Everything I had wanted for long so was finally coming true. I was stupid enough to believe that you had fallen in love with me. That it would be okay this time. I was your princess. Dove. Darling. My Love. My fairy tale moment. All of it meant nothing to you. Some fling you had online. You said it yourself. Even when you didn’t know it was me, it was still meaningless to you. So… I came full circle and let you go all over again. I had to stop loving you once and for all. Except this time, I no longer had a best friend… if I ever did in the first place. I’m not sure if I meant anything to you at all.“

He looked up at you and his tears matched yours now. You watched as Loki crossed the room to sit on your bed in front of you and took both of your hands into his.

“No, Bug. It meant everything to me. After she…you… told me that you accepted me as I was then you disappeared on me, it broke my heart. I was just hurt and wanted to protect myself from everyone, including my best friend. I’m so sorry it took me falling in love with you through words to finally see what I had in front of me all along. I’m nothing without you. I’m so sorry I never saw you, Ladybug.”

Loki reached up and held your face in the palms of his hands.

“I’m so sorry I was so foolish. I should have seen you. I should have never hurt you. You never deserved to be treated that way. You’re my whole world, Bug. I’ve taken you for granted for so long, but I’ll do better. Just please give me the chance to prove it to you. I love you so much. I think I’ve loved you all along and never even realized it myself. There is no excuse for my actions. I don’t know how I didn’t see you that night, but I see you now. I see all of you and all the ways you’ve been showing me love all along. Please give me another chance to prove to you how much you mean to me, even if I don’t deserve it. Can you ever forgive me, Darling?”

You finally saw the recognition in his eyes that you longed for. You stared into the green you’d been lost in so many times before and only saw you. Nobody else. His heart was yours.

“I guess so, Mischief, since you asked so nicely. But you better make it worth it for me. There were plenty of other men in that chat room that would do damn near anything to date an Avenger. Apparently, I’m a catch...”

Loki narrowed his eyes at you before letting out a loud growl. He grabbed the pillow from your arms and threw it behind him before pulling you into his lap. Your yelp of surprise was quickly silenced when his lips captured yours. His hands held you close to him before they gently traveled around your waist and stroked up your back until his fingers laced themselves in your hair. Your legs locked around his waist while you held his face to yours. The fireworks you felt that night were even more intense when he returned the love you had held for him. You let yourself drown in the taste and feel of him. When he broke the kiss to trail gentle ones across your jaw and down your throat, it tickled and made you laugh.

“How could I have possibly not recognized that laugh until today, My Love? It’s always been you. It’s only ever been you…”

You smiled and pulled his lips back to yours. With each short kiss, you could feel his lips curl into a smile against yours. Pulling back slightly, you held your face just far enough away to make him chase your lips as you whispered against them.

“I love you, Loki.”

He stared into your eyes and gently tucked a strand of hair out of your face.

“I love you too, Ladybug. So very much…”

He tried to give you another kiss, but you pulled further back away from him to tease him. With a frustrated sigh, he pulled you tightly against him and flipped you off his lap to pin you under him against the bed. Now that he finally had you, he was never letting you go again.

#loki smut #loki fluff #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki fandom #loki angst #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #marvel #prince charming #friends to lovers

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sunfleurry · 3 years

Text

II. Soie et Satin

Part 1

Thank you for the lovely feedback on part 1 of modern prince!Harry <33

NOTE: I decided to give my MC a name (which I also edited into part 1). I hope you enjoy Rose and Harry’s story!!!! this part is not edited oops

***

Harry was on TV and he looked like a star. Rose watched him from the comfort of her living room while she sipped her morning coffee.

It was a live broadcast showing his arrival to the event with his family including the queen, his mother. She was an intimidatingly beautiful woman who gained the respect of the entire country, if not the entire world throughout her life. She was known to be strict on tradition, but she’d done so much for the country when it came to helping the less fortunate, advocating for global health, and supporting free education for everyone.

Now that she was older and had quite a few children, she passed on some of her duties to them. They, including Harry, followed in her footsteps, looking out for the population by supporting the same causes their mother dedicated her life to as a young woman. Their role was to represent the queen, and they did so flawlessly.

Rose didn’t want to admit that she’d googled Harry the day he sent flowers to her office, but she did, and she was reminded of the fact that Harry was heir to the throne. She never cared much for learning about the royal family and this was something everyone knew, but reading it after meeting him was like a big wake-up call. She’d danced with a man who would one day become king. She tried not to let herself think about it too much, or else she knew her thoughts would spiral out of control.

Harry and his brother wore a simple black suit, a change from his usual style, and his mother and sisters were donned in modest dresses she knew were designer and likely cost the same as her home.

Men with flashing cameras were going crazy behind the gates, desperately trying to get the perfect shot of the country’s “perfect” family.

Upon seeing the paparazzi, Rose was instantly reminded of how lucky she and Harry were to not have been caught by anyone when they went out. She quickly picked up her phone and googled Harry’s name and filtered the results to hours before the charity event just to be sure. She sighed in relief when there were no photos or stories of the both of them.

She relaxed into her sofa and fixed her eyes on the television, watching the rest of the event, subconsciously smiling every time Harry’s handsome face popped up on the screen.

***

Three days later at work, Rose received a text from Harry. What are you doing tonight?

She quickly replied, I have a date with a really hot guy I met a while back.

She barely put her phone down before it pinged with another message. What? Who is he? Tell him you’re busy.

She grinned. I don’t know. He’s kind of cute. Did I mention he’s a prince?

Her phone vibrated with a call, Harry’s name in block letters at the top of the screen. She accepted the call and brought it up to her ear. “Hello?”

“You’re not funny.”

She barked out a laugh, then winced and apologized to her coworkers whose desks were adjacent to hers. “I think I am.”

She heard him huff through the line then say, “Can I pick you up at seven?”

“Where do you want to take me?” She asked, tamping down her giddiness. It had only been less than a week since she’d last seen him, but she missed him.

“I thought we could take a walk on the beach, maybe have some ice cream?”

“How romantic of you,” she teased.

She could almost see his eyes rolling. “Are you in? I haven’t been able to go out in public since that morning charity.”

“Why not?”

He sighed. “Normally after making such a public appearance, we’re encouraged to stay low-key for a couple days. Something about the media being on high alert.”

Suddenly remembering the thoughts she had the morning she watched him on TV, she instantly knew what he meant. Rose worried her lip between her teeth as she tried to form the words to articulate the worry that had been building up since that day.

“Harry, will there be people following us?” She closed her eyes, hoping she didn’t sound stupid.

The other end of the line was quiet for a moment before he finally spoke up. “You know what, change of plans. Wear something comfortable.”

“Oh,” she ran a hand through her hair and sat back in her chair. “Okay.”

“I can’t wait to see you, Rose.”

She smiled. “You too,” she whispered.

***

Harry said to wear something comfortable, so she slipped on the most comfortable outfit she owned: A pair of joggers and matching crewneck. He’d only ever seen her dressed up, she figured she would let herself look more casual for once. Her doorbell rang just as she was slipping on a pair of Nikes. Reaching over, she opened the door to reveal a nervous-looking Harry standing with his car key in hand.

“Hi,” he said, a smile breaking onto his face at the sight of her then pulling her in for a hug.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, breathing in the cologne she absolutely loved.

“You look lovely,” he said as he pulled back to take a look at her.

She couldn’t resist kissing his cheek. “Please, I’m wearing glorified pyjamas.”

He looked down at his own pair of joggers and t-shirt. “I’d say you understood the assignment.”

She laughed as she followed him to his flashy car. It wasn’t the same one he picked her up in on their previous date, but just as nice.

Less than a half hour later, Harry had driven them to the middle of the city and into an underground parking garage of a large high-rise building. One of the tallest she’d ever seen in person. It had a modern design, the surface covered in mirrored windows. He drove through the garage until the car reached a closed door. He inched the car closer until the sensor detected it and opened the door, allowing the car to enter a smaller parking area containing two other cars, one of them Rose recognized as the one she’d been in on their last date.

“Do you live here?” She asked, taken aback.

“Yes,” he smiled nervously. “This is my private parking.”

“I can see that,” she frowned. “I thought you lived with your family, at the palace.”

“You and everyone else in the world,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You don’t?”

He unbuckled his seat belt, and pocketed his key before turning towards her. “I come from a not so traditional family, but I need my own space despite the responsibilities that are expected of me. I’m a man in my twenties who values his privacy so I moved out when I was nineteen. Under a fake name.”

She was shocked by the revelation, even more by the fact that he was trusting her with his information.

“Nobody knows you live here?”

“I mean, the other residents do, but they’re under contract.”

“And your family?”

“Of course they know where I live,” he chuckled. “They just don’t come here. They don’t want to risk being seen here because they respect my space, they want to make sure I have all the privacy I can get away from the public eye, because, well, one day I won’t have that luxury.”

Rose deflated at the reminder of what his future entailed. “Do you ever think about it? Being heir and all?”

Harry looked down at his lap, picking an invisible thread on his pants. “Let’s go inside,” he said at last.

Taking the hint, Rose smiled and opened her door, Harry doing the same. He scanned a card inside the elevator and keyed in a code on the keypad. The lift immediately started rising, only halting when it reached the final floor of the building.

Nothing could have prepared Rose for the extravagance that would welcome her as soon as the doors opened. An entire wall was made up of giant windows, overlooking the bustling city underneath. They were so high up, she couldn't hear any of it. Instead, the height provided a peaceful silence in an otherwise busy area. The flooring was marble, the luxury kind one would only see on TV, and the place was spotless.

Harry’s warm hand on the small of her back urged her to walk inside, the elevator doors closing behind them. She took in the open concept penthouse, a staircase in the corner of the grand living room leading to what she assumed was his private corner, the bedroom and bath.

“Holy shit,” she breathed.

Harry laughed behind her, before grabbing her hand and leading her to the kitchen she knew even Gordon Ramsay would drool over. “Would you like something to drink?”

Snapping herself out of her dumfounded state, she looked at him. “What?”

He suppressed a smile and repeated, “Would you like something to drink?”

“Oh! Um, yes please,” she said, wringing her fingers together.

“Relax, Rose.”

“How could I?” She asked, eyes wide. “I feel like I’ll break something just by looking at it!”

“That’s fine, love. I want you to be comfortable.”

“But this place—”

“Is my home,” he interrupted, stepping closer and gently grabbing her shoulders. “And I made the choice to trust you with my secret, so please, make yourself comfortable.”

Her eyes softened. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.”He leaned forward to capture her lips with his, and she melted into him without hesitation. She’d been wanting to do this since their first kiss and the wait was definitely worth it.

He pulled back with a grin, leaving her breathless. “So, drink?”

She nodded, exhaling as an attempt to calm her beating heart.

“I also made us dinner, I just need to put it in the oven.”

The statement made her heart swell, a feeling of fondness for the man in front of her taking over. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” he smiled, as he pushed a few buttons on the oven until a yellow light started flashing and the desired temperature was displayed. “Can’t bring you here and not feed you.”

She chuckled and pulled out a stool tucked into the island to sit on. “No you can’t.”

***

The food would take an hour, so the two decided to go to his living room to wait. They were cuddled up on his couch, watching a movie she’d chosen and that he’d seen a dozen times. Rose didn’t know that though.

“Do you ever worry people will recognize you?” She asked, out of the blue. “When we went out together, you seemed unfazed by the looks some were giving you.”

He shrugged. “I get used to it, really. Besides, Fen is always around in case something happens.”

She pushed off the couch to look at him. “Fen?”

“My security detail,” he nodded. “He’s always around when I’m out and about.”

“But, I didn’t see him the other night. Or the first time we went out together.”

He grinned. “That means he’s doing his job.”

She frowned as she slowly tucked herself back into his side. His arm automatically wrapped around her. “So, we were being followed all night?”

“It’s for safety purposes, Rose. Plus, I would never intentionally put you in danger.”

“What could possibly be so dangerous?”

Harry ducked to press a kiss to her head, breathing in the shampoo scent that coated her red strands. “Anything could be dangerous, even the paparazzi.”

The thought of being followed by paparazzi sent shivers down her spine. She’d seen videos of celebrities being hounded by them and felt sorry for the public figures who had to live with that.

“What if they see us together. Would they publish photos? Are you scared of what they may think?”

“Are you ashamed of me, Rose?”

She craned her neck to kiss him softly. “I would never be ashamed of you, Your Highness.”

“I knew it!” He cried, dramatically pushing her away. “You’re just using me for my title!”

“How did you know?” She gasped, trying to hold in a smile.

“I’ve always felt something was off with you,” he tutted, leaning his back on the arm rest and pulling her on top of him.

She giggled, raising her hand to run her fingers through his hair before smoothing it down. “Why is that?” She whispered.

“There’s no way someone as beautiful as you would give me the time of day,” he murmured, brushing his lips on the corner of her mouth.

She pulled him in to give her a proper kiss, their legs tangling as he switched positions until he was hovering on top of her, forearms caging her head against the sofa.

“If anything, you’re out of my league, Prince.”

The words didn’t sit right with him. He pulled back. “Don’t ever say that,” he frowned.

“It’s true—“

He kissed her again. “Who I am... What I come from... Means nothing between you and me.”

She stared at him intently, the conversation taking an unexpected turn.

“Do you hear me?” He murmured, brushing his lips along her cheek.

She nodded.

He sighed. “Good.”

Rose gasped when Harry’s mouth was suddenly on hers, instantly brushing her tongue against his in what could be the best kiss she’d ever had. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him down to feel his comforting weight on top of her. The kiss morphed into something wetter as his hands trailed along her side and dipped under her shirt. She shivered from the contact, bending her knees to cage his body between her legs. Harry brushed his lips against her jaw before slowly making his way down her throat to the fabric of her top covering her chest. His hands inched along her skin to her back where he applied pressure, making her arch, chest pressing against his own.

“Harry,” she breathed as he pressed open mouthed kisses up her throat, leaving a wet trail.

He hummed in response before coming back up to connect their lips. She sighed into his mouth, arms wrapping around his neck as his hands trailed back to caress her sides. “Can I take this off?” He breathed, fingering the hem of her shirt.

She nodded against his neck, where she tongued at his skin, savouring the feeling of just being so close to him. He pulled her shirt up but before he could take it off completely, his phone rang, the shrill ringtone breaking through their bubble.

Harry scrambled to get off the couch, recognizing the ringtone, while Rose fought to catch her breath, mourning the feeling of his weight on her.

Harry excused himself and left the room to speak to whoever it was while Rose readjusted her top and sat up. She decided to braid her hair while waiting for him to finish.

Just as she was tying up her hair, she heard his footsteps before he appeared with a grim look on his face. He tossed his phone on the coffee table.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” he smiled but she didn’t buy it.

She tucked her legs under her and extended a hand towards him.

Harry accepted it and she tugged him over to sit next to her. He complied and slumped back, neck resting on the back of the couch.

“It’s just PR stuff. You don’t need to worry about it,” he said, eyes never leaving the ceiling.

She felt her heart sink to her stomach. “What kind of PR stuff?”

Before he could answer, she jumped at a sudden beeping coming from the kitchen.

He chuckled half-heartedly as she held a hand up to her chest. “It’s just the oven, love. Come on, food’s ready.”

“But what about—“

He kissed her. “I’m hungry.”

She pouted but decided to drop it, not wanting the mood to be ruined.

***

Rose placed her fork on her empty plate and got up to make her way to the sink. “How did you learn to cook like that?” She turned on the water and waited for it to turn hot before rinsing her plate. She reached for the sponge and squirted soap on it, intending to wash all the dishes.

Harry walked up behind her and slid a hand around her waist, splaying his hand on her stomach and pulling her back against him. “My mother,” he said before reaching over and turning off the water.

“Hey!” She went to turn it back on but he wrapped a hand around the tap, preventing her from moving it. “Harry…” She warned.

“Rose…”

She turned around and crossed her arms, ignoring the way her body reacted to his proximity.

He laughed, and pried the wet sponge out of her hand, then pushed her out of the way to rinse it and put it back in place.

Rose scowled. “Let me do this for you.”

“No, I have a dishwasher that could do that for me. I want to spend time with you, not watch you wash my shit.”

“You do so much for me, Harry. Let me wash your shit.”

“I can wash my own shit.”

“Okay, this is getting gross.”

Harry giggled and kissed her cheek before walking over to his fridge. She took the time to wash her hands and dry them before turning around to ask if he needed help with whatever it was he was doing.

She was met with the sight of him standing next to the kitchen island, a delicious-looking chocolate cake on it with two small forks.

Harry chuckled at the way her eyes lit up, knowing her love for chocolate was the way to her heart.

“I was too shy to ask if you had something sweet to follow up with dinner,” she admitted sheepishly, biting her bottom lip as she sat on the stool while he did the same across from her.

His smile widened, handing her a fork. “I would never forget.”

She blushed and followed his lead by taking the first bite of the cake. “Oh my God,” she moaned. “Is this André’s?”

Harry looked at her, horrified. “Don’t ever say another man’s name after moaning like that.”

She snorted, taking another bite of the delicious cake.

“Yes,” Harry said finally, expression morphing into one of amusement as he watched her devour her half of the dessert. “He did make it. Something about giving the lovely lady a real treat.”

Rose laughed at the way he mocked André’s accent, and pushed the plate towards him to finish the cake. “I can’t take another bite,” she groaned.

***

Rose awoke to the sound of faint chattering. She didn’t remember when she fell asleep but once she was aware enough to take in her surroundings, she realized she was still in Harry’s penthouse, curled up on his couch under a warm blanket. A warm feeling engulfed her when she realized Harry had tucked her in.

“Fuck you, I can do whatever I want.”

She frowned, knuckling her eye to try and wake herself up as she heard Harry start pacing, wherever he was.

“I know, I know, she’s been telling me the same thing all week.”

“Harry?” She called out. He didn’t hear her.

“If I hear you call her that one more time, you’re fired.”

“Harry,” she called again, louder. His pacing stopped and a second later, he appeared from around the corner, phone up to his ear.

“Rose,” he sighed, then scowled at whatever the person on the other end said. “Yes, now don’t call me back.” He locked his phone and gave her his attention once again. “Sorry about that.”

She smiled sleepily and reached over to caress his face. He breathed out and knelt on the ground to come face to face with her. Her fingers wound in the short hairs at the nape of his neck and he exhaled, dropping his forehead to her collarbone. “Sometimes I hate being me.”

“Want to talk about it?”

He shook his head and a laugh bubbled out of her, unwillingly. He snapped his head up. “What’s so funny?”

“Tickled me,” she mumbled.

He snorted then got up, asking her to move over before laying down next to her and pulling her to his side.

“You seemed angry,” she said gently.

She could feel him tense under her. “My mother was just pissed at me, had my publicist relay a message.”

“Did you do anything?”

Harry looked into her warm brown eyes, his own glinting with mischief. “When am I not?”

Rose giggled and laid her head on his shoulder. She could feel herself being pulled back into unconsciousness, and as much as she tried to fight it, she couldn't. She wanted to stay awake for him, to comfort him further but exhaustion suddenly washed over her. Before being completely lost to the world, she could’ve sworn she heard him murmur, “I won’t let anything come between us.”

***

THANK YOU FOR READING <3333 lmk if you’d like to be tagged !!!

Tag list: @mellamolayla

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles story #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #harry styles series #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #one direction imagine

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wheelsup · 3 years

Text

moreid as a cheesy high school teen movie romance | headcannon

(this really got away from me, it is incredibly cheesy. derek and spencer are the same age (but one year apart) in this au. tw: mentions of anxiety, mentions of homophobia. 1.4k words because like i said, it got away from me)

spencer, a sophomore, shows up on the first day of school in one of derek’s junior-level classes. derek remembers him from the summer, when he had to come to school for off-season practice and spencer was there for chess club tournaments, he passed him a few times in the hall. he’s gotten taller since then, and his cheekbones have come in. he looks good. not like the awkward freshman he remembers.

spencer’s always getting called on in class, and derek can see him panicking every time he has to speak up.

each time spencer’s anxiety kicks up after he talks in class, derek leans over and tells him he did a good job. that he didn’t look as nervous as he felt.

spencer starts speaking up more in class, not just because derek’s reassuring him and easing his anxiety, but because he knows it will get the boy will talk to him. even if for just a moment.

after class one day, derek stops spencer as he’s walking home and asks for his phone number. he says it’s so they can talk about homework, but derek knows that it’s the only thing he won’t be texting reid for. spencer has to pretend his hands aren’t violently shaking when he types his number into derek’s phone, he’s afraid he’s going to drop it with how sweaty his palms feel.

spencer waits for derek to text him, but nothing comes through. two days go by without a message, and spencer’s stomach is turning inside out and he’s so sad. on the third day, derek finds him in the cafeteria at lunch and corners him, asking why he hasn’t been responding to his messages.

“why haven’t you texted me back?”

“i never got a message?”

“well i sent you like seven of them”

that’s when they figure out spencer gave him the wrong number. he was so nervous and shaky that he hit a zero where it should have been a one. both those boys spent three days thinking that their crush was unrequited. in reality, derek had sent him seven texts and spencer was crushing so hard he couldnt even type right.

reid’s contact name is obviously pretty boy

spencer hates phones but he turns his notifications on just so he never misses a text

dereks mature and texts back normally, spencer is insecure and tries to wait to reply so he doesn’t look like he was waiting for a text

even though the mutual crush is so obvious, they still pretend like their texts are nothing to speak of. they’re nervous.

them staying up past midnight texting is just because they’re “buds”. derek telling spencer what his favorite movies are, which spencer saved onto his netflix list, and spencer sending derek song recommendations that he saves into a playlist, is definitely just “buddy” stuff.

it’s the day before the big homecoming game, and derek’s going to start. he wore his letterman jacket around all week to show his pride, like football players are supposed to do the week leading up to the game.

it also rains really hard that day, and spencer shows up to class looking like a drowned puppy with his sweater completely soaked. he had to walk across the entire campus to make it to class, and he couldn’t avoid getting caught in the rain.

derek sees him, shivering and pale, and slips him his letterman jacket to wear in class. he does it so casually, like it wasn’t even a question for him to give it up, but, he’s nervous that spencer’s not gonna wanna wear it, even if he is fighting hypothermia. he has to actively try not to smile when spencer accepts the jacket.

it’s so much bigger than spencer is, and so, so warm.

after class, spencer hands it back to him and thanks him for letting him wear it. derek tells him to hold on to it for now.

“aren’t you supposed to wear it for the game tomorrow?”

“how about you wear it. give it back to me after i win.”

he blushes so hard and he’s so in love with derek, but spencer’s scared to wear it to school the next day.

nobody would say anything to derek, but the homophobic assholes could easily pick on spencer. they already ragged on him enough, he didn’t want to give them any more reasons. he tries it on and takes it off a hundred and one times in the mirror before going to school.

he ultimately doesn’t wear it to class.

it would just make him too easy of a target, and he wanted to so badly, but he’s scared of the bullies.

he’s also scared to face derek. he avoids him all day, hoping he doesn’t see that spencer didn’t wear it to class that day like he was supposed to. he avoids him in the hall. he hides in a seat in the back of the classroom.

it doesn’t work. derek turns around in the front row, eyes scanning for spencer. he’s absolutely crestfallen when he sees him, sans jacket. and spencer’s clearly been avoiding him today, and so he gets the message. spencer doesn’t like him like that.

the sun was out that day, and the wet grass field was gonna dry up in time for the big game, but derek’s whole world felt dark.

spencer tries to talk to him after class, but derek’s nowhere to be found. he texts him as he walks home alone and doesn’t get any response. spencer tries to convince himself derek’s just at practice, and he doesn’t have his phone on him, but he knows that practice doesn’t run that long.

it’s 7pm now. derek’s big game is about to start, and spencer’s sitting on his bed, staring at the ceiling and hoping he didn’t just ruin his chance. derek looks over the bleachers before the coin toss and he doesn’t see the only face he’s looking for.

bullies have taken so much from spencer, and he was letting them take his first (potential) boyfriend away from him too. spencer wants to stay in bed and cry, and he does for a bit, but if ever spencer was going to take a stance, he decided it should be now.

he shows up to the game five minutes before half time, just enough to see derek in action. he’s never seen anything so impressive. as the team is huddled up and the marching band is playing, derek by chance glances over the bleachers and sees reid. front row with that big jacket over his shoulders.

derek’s heart has left his body, ascended into the sky. he plays even better that second half, but he feels like he’s floating on air, even when he’s getting tackled and rammed.

reid, who has never seen a game of football in his life, is learning everything he can as it unfolds before him.

he’s clinging onto every play, cheering when derek does something good (really, the whole team did it, but to reid derek IS the whole team) and booing when the other team was up.

sometimes he doesn’t know what happened and why the crowd is cheering, but he cheers anyways.

the game is over and people are leaving but spencer is glued in place. the team lost and everyone’s disappointed, but spencer is the proudest he could ever be.

because the first derek does is walk off the field and towards the bleachers. to him.

they don’t kiss. not here. in front of all these prying eyes and bright lights, not in a place where they couldn’t savor it.

derek does hold spencer’s hand, though. it means everything that he came. it means more that he wore the jacket.

and he’s scared, too. he might be the school’s beloved football star, but this is the first boy he’s ever liked and he doesn’t know how to handle it.

they leave the game together. derek’s team is wondering where he went because he was supposed to come get drunk with them to forget the loss. but derek won tonight.

derek and spencer tell each other they might not know how to do this, but they wanna figure it out. it’s worth enduring a bit of pain for this much joy. the bullies couldn’t possibly kill off the butterflies in spencer’s stomach every time he even thought about derek.

they kiss at spencer’s front door, under his dimmed porch light. the world falls away around them, all that exists is derek’s hands caressing spencer’s face, and spencer’s arms wrapping around derek’s waist.

spencer keeps the letterman jacket. he’s going to wear it to class on monday.

taglist: @ellesgreenaway @suburban--gothic @sturmmhond @ssa-sarahsunshine @mediocre-writer @hotchgans @ssa-m-187 @calm-and-doctor @drayshadow @makaylajadewrites

#moreid #derek morgan #derek x spencer #spencer reid #hc #headcannon #criminal minds #my fic #derek morgan x spencer reid

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Hey I was wondering if you could write something kinda angsty but with a pretty ending with the cubs, I’m trynna project getting stood up and turning it into something nice and good, even if it’s just in my head. No pressure but I just wanna smile for a bit and your work always makes me do so :)))

Hello lovely! I’m so sorry that you were stood up--that feels awful and whoever did it missed out on a wonderful person. I’ve combined this with some other asks in the same vein (y’all wanted my boys to hurt) so I hope you don’t mind. Sending love and hugs your way! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

1. Bad mental health day for Finn + pushing himself too hard + passing out (ft. Bee anon!)

2. O’Knutzy boiling over with a fluffy ending

3. Insecure Leo

TW for internalized guilt, vaguely implied self-harm (pushing himself too hard at practice), and relationship arguments

Finn had a few bad habits. He left dirty dishes in the sink, could never remember which setting the laundry was supposed to go on, and barely wiped his shoes on the doormat before entering the house. He wasn’t proud of his flaws, but he acknowledged that everyone had some—as long as they didn’t hurt anybody, it wasn’t the end of the world.

This one…this one was different. Even Finn knew that.

He gritted his teeth for the next set of squats, ignoring the ringing in his ears and the climbing nausea in his gut. The chart only said to do three reps, but he had been beating himself up for slacking a set earlier in the week and decided to do five to make up for it.

That, it seemed, was a poor decision.

His thighs were shaking when he finally put the weight down and he leaned on the wall to stabilize himself. “Fish? You okay?” Logan asked from the yoga mat to his right, staring up at him in concern.

“I’m fine,” Finn lied. “Just straightened up too fast.”

“D’accord.” He could feel Logan’s eyes on his back as he left the gym and headed toward the showers.

Finn’s worst habit was taking care of himself, and it wasn’t something that could be explained away as “oh, silly Harzy” like the washing machine. He made a mental note to take some ibuprofen before driving home so he would be marginally less sore in the morning, but he had the sinking feeling it would be a rough practice the next day.

Remus and Talker were playing some sort of volleyball with an old balloon between their stalls when he entered; he missed getting nailed in the head by a narrow margin and waved off their apologies with a forced smile.

A hand closed around his bicep as he passed, snapping him back to reality as Leo’s bright eyes came into focus. “Hey, lovey, is Lo with you?”

“He’s finishing up.”

A small furrow appeared between Leo’s brows. “Is something wrong?”

“Nope.” Finn faked a yawn and stretched his arm over Leo’s shoulder, dragging him down for a kiss on the cheek. “Cap’s workout just kicked my ass today.”

“That’s what they’re supposed to do,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes playfully as he passed. “You’re not a rookie anymore, O’Hara.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright.”

Logan entered the locker room a few minutes later; Finn closed his eyes and breathed in the thick steam of the shower until the fog in his head cleared a bit and he couldn’t feel the skin on his shoulders. It billowed off him as he dressed again and tossed the keys to Leo, who raised his eyebrows. “Me?”

“You. There’s a little bit of slush left, and you still need to learn how to drive in it.” And I feel like I’m going to pass out at any minute. He swallowed down the last thought and pasted a teasing grin on his face—what Leo and Logan didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. It was his own fault for being lazy in the past.

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

What Leo and Logan didn’t know apparently did hurt them. In hindsight, Finn should have seen that coming before he passed out in the middle of a scrimmage.

The lights of the coach’s office made his headache even worse. “Care to explain?” Arthur asked in a voice like frost. To his left, Sirius was glowering.

“I already told Hestia—”

“Yeah, I know what you told Hestia,” Arthur interrupted. “I want to hear it directly from you.”

Finn sighed through his nose and picked at a stray thread on his jersey. “I…I pushed myself a little too hard at yesterday’s practice and didn’t say anything when I started feeling bad.”

“Why.” Sirius’ eyes were hard as flint.

“Because I didn’t want to be a pain in the ass! I can handle some aching muscles, it’s not a big deal!”

“Not a—”

Arthur put his hand on Sirius’ shoulder. “That’s enough, Black. O’Hara, I want you to look me in the eyes.” Finn raised his head. “This was a dumbass mistake and all of us expected better from you. Your safety and health come before any workout routine, and it is your responsibility to speak up before you scare the shit out of us by dropping like a rock.”

“I’m sorry, Coach.”

“Apology accepted. I also want you to call Heather when you get home and schedule an appointment with her.” Some of Arthur’s frustration melted into genuine concern and guilt crawled up Finn’s throat. “Doing that to yourself isn’t healthy, Finn. You’re a good man, smart, and I know you know better.”

“Can we talk for a second?” Sirius asked quietly, glancing at Arthur. He nodded and left the room.

“I’m sorry.”

“What the fuck, Finn?” Sirius ran a hand down his face, suddenly pale. “What the fuck was that?”

“It was stupid.”

“Yeah, no, I got that part.”

“I slacked off a set on Monday.”

“Wow, nobody’s ever done that before,” he said sarcastically, sitting down in the chair by the wall as Finn resumed messing with his hem. “You scared the hell out of all of us.”

“I know.”

“You know I’m not mad at you, right? I’m upset that you thought you had to do that at all.”

Tears prickled the backs of Finn’s eyes. “I know.”

“I’m sure as hell not your coach or your dad, but I’m going to say this as your friend, okay?” Sirius leaned over into Finn’s field of view. “Whatever you need, I’m here for you. This team wouldn’t be the same without you. I wouldn’t be the same without you. We need you to take care of yourself, Harzy.”

Finn nodded silently and Sirius gave his hand a quick squeeze, which he returned. “Does everyone know?”

“I told them you were under the weather, nothing more.”

“Classic media answer.” He tried and failed to crack a smile. “Thanks for not telling on me.”

“That’s not my job. My job is herding cats on ice skates for five hours a day.”

Finn’s smile was real that time and he managed a light laugh as he swiped away the dampness on his cheeks. “Love you, man.”

“Love you, too.” Sirius helped him stand up and hugged him tight for a second before letting go. “Speaking as someone who used to do the exact same thing, talking to Heather makes a world of difference.”

“I’ll give her a call.”

The cold feeling returned to Finn’s gut when they stepped out of the office; Leo and Logan were waiting by the opposite wall, looking angrier than Finn had ever seen. Sirius patted his shoulder once before walking off down the hallway toward the locker room, where he would no doubt deflect even more questions.

“Hey,” Finn said, barely above a whisper. Logan continued to stare at the ground.

“You lied to us,” Leo said bluntly. “Several times. Both of us asked if you were alright and you told us you were fine.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I accept your apology, but I don’t understand.” He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “Finn, this isn’t how we deal with things. We agreed to be a team.”

Finn bit his lip. I fucked this one up. “We did. I am so sorry for scaring you—”

“We’re not mad that you scared us,” Logan snapped, still looking anywhere but his face. “We’re upset that you refuse to take care of yourself and then lied to us about it.”

Leo nudged Logan’s shoulder before turning back. “Why did you do that, Finn?”

“I didn’t want to fall behind. I was just trying to make up for the set I skipped on Monday.”

“What? Twenty squats and some pushups? That’s not worth your health, honey.” The pet name soothed the terror clutching Finn’s heart and he took a deep breath. They still loved him. This wasn’t the end.

“It was a stupid thing to do and it won’t happen again.”

“Good. Let’s go home.” Logan grabbed his duffel bag off the ground and started walking toward the door; Leo looked like he was going to say something, but Finn gently took his elbow.

“He’s going to need a minute,” he said under his breath. Logan was a hothead about many things, but lying was in the top three. Finn knew he hurt him deep.

“Did you…” Leo trailed off and pressed his lips together as they followed Logan into the parking lot. “Did you feel like you couldn’t tell me?”

Finn shook his head. “No. This was all on me.”

“It’s just that I know I’m younger than both of you and I’m new to the hockey lifestyle, but I never want you to think you can’t trust me—”

“Leo.” Finn stopped walking and tugged on Leo’s hand, turning him around. Worry was painted all over his face and it sliced to Finn’s core. “I trust you and Logan with everything, but I got into my head about this and I wasn’t thinking about how it would hurt you. Please believe that.”

Leo sighed. “I do. I just don’t get it.”

“Neither do I, to be honest.” Logan was already sitting in the car with his headphones on as they crossed the lot. “It’s going to take him a while to talk to me, isn’t it?”

“He was really upset.”

“We’ll figure this out.” He tightened his grip on Leo’s hand. “We’ve made it through worse.”

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

The apartment crackled with tension until Finn literally had to stick his head out the open window to get a breath of fresh air. Waves of frustration and hurt rolled off Logan, though he still refused to look Finn in the eyes.

After dinner, Leo slid into the armchair before Logan could get there, leaving only the couch available. They carefully sat on opposite sides—Finn stole glances at Logan out of the corner of his eye for the entire first half of the movie. Ninety minutes of action later, he felt something chilly poking at his calf.

Logan kept his gaze trained on the TV as he scooted his freezing toes under Finn’s legs. Relief flooded Finn’s veins; he felt a little like crying, but instead schooled his expression into a small smile and rested his hand on Logan’s ankle, where it stayed until the movie ended.

Leo had fallen asleep by that time, splayed out sideways on the cushion with his face smushed against the armrest. “Il est mignon,” Logan said softly. There was a beat of silence and he looked over at Finn. “He’s cute.”

“He is.” Finn cleared his throat and met his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Lo. I never meant to hurt you, but I did, and I’m sorry.”

“Promise me you won’t do that again.”

“I won’t.”

Finn had a few bad habits, but backing out on his promises would never be one of them.

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ot3tropetober · 4 years

Photo

-So Hardison gets rich playing the stock market as a teen in Nana’s basement. Mostly because the professor at the college econ classes he’s taking for extra credit said he couldn’t.

-By the time he’s graduating highschool at 18 he is filthy rich. (WhatLikeItsHard.gif) He has paid off Nana’s medical bills and her house and went over to the college to gloat a little and decided he doesn’t actually need to go to college when he’s already, you know, doing what he does.

-But he doesn’t wanna keep taking up Nana’s basement when he has heard her having to turn down emergency placements because there’s not enough room.

-So he moves out. Into a giant mansion, because why not. He has everything. A pool. A fancy kitchen. A shower with like 16 sprays that massage your back perfectly. A hallway with a giant fancy staircase. A whole room dedicated to his computer setup, with all the latest gadgets. A special wine fridge he stocked full of orange soda. A damn fireplace in his bathroom.

-A lot of empty rooms. And quiet. Like, creepy-quiet. Right-before-the-killer-grabs-you-in-the-hallway quiet. He nearly jumps out of his skin when he forgets there is a mirror at the end of one of the hallways. His shriek echoes through the empty house.

-He considers getting a cat for one second but remembers he’s allergic. And it would probably just startle him even more. He gets a few roombas, but even with the giant googly eyes they don’t fill the space as much as he’d hoped. So instead he places an ad online for roommates.

-He doesn’t get nearly enough responses as he suspects. Maybe ‘come live in my mansion rent free’ gives off some major serial killer vibes. He amends his ad to a reasonable but still low enough rent that people who really need a place can apply.

-He runs background checks on everyone who applies. He may or may not disqualify some people for petty reasons. Sorry not sorry, this is his mansion and he’s not about to share his kitchen with someone who thinks Kylo Ren is cooler than Poe Dameron, okay?

-He has some interviews, but nobody seems to click. A lot of people seem to want to make his house some kind of party-mansion. And not the fun kind of movie-marathon, D&D session, LAN Party kind of parties. One girl keeps asking him when the ‘real owner’ of the house is going to be back.

-He’s thinking about giving up and moving back home and finding a small apartment near Nana’s house when a girl shows up in his living room.

-She does not have an interview scheduled. Hardison knows this for two reasons: one, he thinks he’d remember background checking someone as pretty as her. Two: it’s three in the morning.

-“So I heard you’re looking for roommates,” she says. A roomba nudges against her foot, and she reaches down to pat it before it turns away. “I like your pet robots.”

-It’s probably the fact that he’s been up for like 48 hours by now, but he’s like: thanks, want a tour of the house?

-Parker moves in that weekend. He helps her move in, and does not ask why she has an entire box of the exact same creepy doll whose head turns around to show an even more creepy face. He just kindly requests she keep those in her rooms, not the shared ones.

-Parker is a great roommate. Her schedule is all over the place as well, but she’s tidy, she’s funny, and she’ll hang out and watch Doctor Who with him. She also names all his roombas. He pretends not to see her dropping some fortune cookie crumbs on purpose to feed Carl the kitchen roomba when he goes by.

-Their next roommate is Eliot. He’s a veteran who’s learning how to cook at some kind of culinary school. He gets a little flustered when Hardison shows him his rooms, plural, saying he must have read the ad wrong, and is almost out the door before Hardison can convince him that yes, the price in the ad is correct, no this is not a cult, he just bought a house that was much too big and he has Regrets okay, help a brother out.

-So Eliot moves in as well. He gets a little judgy when he finds out 95% of the kitchen cupboards are empty, and the rest is filled with cereal and junkfood. He brings in more boxes of kitchenware than clothes, and Parker is delighted at poking each and every thing he unpacks.

-Eliot’s schedule is kind of the opposite of Hardison’s. He is some kind of weird morning person. They mostly run into each other when Hardison is going to bed and Eliot comes back from his morning run. He’s mostly at school or working kitchen shifts to gain more experience during the times Hardison is awake, so they mostly communicate via text.

-Parker’s the one that figures out Eliot is all bark and no bite. Or actually, all growl and no bite. Turns out, he just really hates the little buttons on his smartphone, so his texts are very short and curt. Hardison starts leaving notes on the kitchen fridge instead and that works much better. Note-Eliot is way nicer than text-Eliot.

-The great thing about Eliot is that his homework is basically… fuck around in the kitchen and make delicious things. Which he then ‘makes’ them taste. So yeah maybe Hardison kind of… switches his schedule so he’s around more and awake for Eliot Cooking Time.

-So basically he gets roommates, and free food and it’s all great. Except for that time he accidentally ate Eliot’s sandwich. Well, he didn’t leave a note saying NOT to! It ends up with him being dragged out of bed and interrogated (Parker shining a flashlight at him and being generally Chaotic Unhelpful) until he confesses.

-The only reason Eliot doesn’t kill him probably is because he babbles about how delicious it was. Or because he’s tired of Parker shouting unrelated cop-phrases at Hardison over his shoulder.

-They come up with a system where Eliot leaves very threatening notes on the stuff he does not want them to eat. It mostly works. Besides, Parker has totally found Eliot’s weak spots (puppy eyes) and can basically make him cook them whatever.

-It’s pretty great until it starts to heat up. And both Parker and Eliot start making use of the big outdoor pool. Which is great, that’s what it’s there for. But they then wander around looking sexy and damp and near naked and Hardison is starting to get Very Inappropriate Thoughts, okay?

-Okay so maybe he also had very inappropriate thoughts before, even when Eliot was wearing like 13 layers of clothing and Parker was wearing cozy sweaters and it’s still not fair for them to wander around looking so hot.

-But he’s not about to ruin a good thing with his crushes. Besides, he’s technically their landlord, that would be weird and creepy.

-So he just… quietly pines a little. It’s cool. He still gets to hang out in the kitchen with Parker and Eliot, and force them to watch movies they have never seen that they really should (neither of them talk to him for a week because of the whole Lilo and Stitch thing).

-And maybe he notices them huddled together whispering sometimes. That’s cool. That’s fine. They can date each other if they want. (Don’t think about Eliot and Parker together, don’t, it’s too hot and you won’t be able to look them in the eye ever again, dammit Hardison).

-Until one day he wanders down into the shared living space to find the dining room table to be all decked out, a table cloth and candles and roses and everything. And Parker and Eliot look up all expectantly as he starts backpedaling that he didn’t mean to interrupt their date before Eliot growls and says ‘sit down, Hardison’.

-The table has three place settings.

-Oh.

-It’s one hundred percent worth his foster siblings quoting a meme at him all weekend when he brings the two of them home to meet his Nana.

#au: and they were roommates #author: innytoes #ot3tropetober #submission

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whitehotharlots · 3 years

Text

A true story about rehab from 2007

Names and places changed, dates slightly fuzzy, yada yada

This all starts with Chris. Chris might be a good example of how things are objectively broken.

Two summers ago, Chris and his girlfriend moved from everyone's old hometown, Alton, to everyone's current home, Garden City. I had known Chris briefly when I still lived in Alton, which was up until about 8 years ago. In high school he was friends with my sister, a year behind her, I think, only he had some legal trouble and didn't graduate until two years after her. The first arrest came during his junior year, when police found some marijuana in his car while he was in class. "Apparently Alton is a utopia," he said years later. "No robberies need solving, no cars need ticketing, no fences need mending, fuckit nobody's house must've been dirty because if there was anything else even remotely worthwhile that those cocksuckers could have been doing they wouldn't have taken a drug dog through the high school parking lot."

The ironic part was that he was, honest-to-god, holding it for a friend. Hadn't touched the stuff until then, hadn't even drank more than a beer or two. Cops came in and pulled him out of class. Cuffed him right there in class, in front of everybody. From what I've been able to piece together that marked a very strong loss of innocence for young Chris. No rules were worth following, after all, if The Bastards could punish you for nothing. This was greatly exacerbated by the fact that, according to several of the best lawyers Alton had to offer, the search of Chris' car was unconstitutional as it was not actually parked in the school parking lot, or even on school grounds, at the time of the search. The juvenile court judge would hear none of it though—all the police had done was break Chris' constitutional right to privacy. He had committed the much greater crime of having an eighth ounce of marijuana in his glove compartment.

His claim of having his rights violated incensed the judge, who sentenced our poor Chris to 72 hours in county jail and 12 weeks of rehab. Were it not for his successful, stable family, he would have been sent to juvie.

It was his first offense. He was 16.

Jail, he said, wasn't that bad. He got to do it over a weekend. The guard was an old lady and even though she was kind of a bitch she let him bring in his homework. She said she was surprised to see someone his age in here, with the adults, but whatever he had done it must have been pretty bad or else he wouldn't be here, would he? They kept him away from the drunks at night and the only other people who came into the "pen" (his word, not mine) were guys who got bailed out within a couple of hours and were too pissed off about their own bad luck to give him any shit for his.

What really fucked with him was rehab. It didn’t matter that he'd never smoked a single joint (or even a cigarette) at this time: he was an addict and by gum he had to admit to being an addict before the obese, shit-smelling overseer would sign the form saying that Chris had attended his sessions. Every weekend for three months he was legally forced to lie. Yes, he said, he was an addict. Yes, even though it made no sense in any grammatical or even symbolic context, he was forced to say "my name is Chris and I'm a narcotic." His personal habits were picked apart—why was his hair so long (it wasn't that long, really)? Why did he wear the same pants on Sunday that he wore on Saturday? Who were these "Dead Milkmen" that his T-shirt spoke of? Ohh… and surely this is a good-tempered, Christian punk band, right? No? Well you see right there that's a part of the problem. Have your mother sign a note saying you've thrown out all of their CDs and any other enabling you might own. No—you can't sell them, you must throw them out.

"We had to go in a day and a half every weekend. All day Saturday and then Sunday from noon until 4. It took me five weeks, when I was starting to get comfortable, before I asked if I could come in Saturday afternoon and all day Sunday. It worked out better for me that way, since the place where I worked wasn't open Sundays. The fat guy just opened his mouth and would not close it. 'When would you go to church?' he said. By then I knew enough to laugh and say 'oh yeah what was I thinking.'"

A few of the people had actual problems. One guy got caught with meth, was beating the shit out of his wife and his two little girls, and seemed genuinely remorseful. Another guy had to drink a sixer every morning or else he'd get the shakes so bad he wouldn't be able to drive to work. But most of the people there were more or less normal and had either fucked up once or else been fucked over once—got into a bar fight while legally drunk, blew .02 over the legal limit at a roadblock, smoked pot once every few weeks and got narced on by a snitch, that kind of stuff. These people were split over how much they believed the bullshit they were being fed. Those who believed, as the official literature did, that being hungover once in your lifetime or ever drinking more than 4 beers in a sitting two or more times in a month are both signs of hardcore alcoholism, they became repentant and preachy.

One such lady was a thin, tan, well-dressed soccer mom who would snitch on the others when they didn't pay close enough attention to the instructional videos or else would appear in any way to not be taking things seriously enough. If you were bad you got demerits, credit card-sized pieces of construction paper upon which frowny faces and intimidating biblical verses were printed. The overseer would also scribble something down in his notebook, which must have had some kind of official weight because it was on his person at all times.

Most people have an innate desire, however illogical it might often be, to please authority figures, and so Chris and the rest of the doubtful "addicts" thought the embarrassment of getting their reprimand literally handed to them was punishment enough for resting their eyes or letting a stray giggle break loose when the acting in an informational film was especially bad. Chris made only one such mistake. During a lecture, the overseer kept making the point that it wasn't the drugs that people get addicted to—oh no, it's the high that keeps you coming back. Chris smiled—remember at this point he still probably hadn't ever been high, not in his whole life—because it seemed like such a stupid, nonsensical thing to say, because even though he was only 16 he could appreciate moments like this, when the moronic essence of a big, scary process could concentrate itself into a single sentence.

"It's not the drugs: it's the high," the man said. He was very clean shaven, dressed like a detective in a 70s cop show, his hair was combed so straight it was like wire, his glasses were round and cruel looking and he had this, this look on his face, this air about him like he thought he was a genius. He nodded a little bit after the repetition of his idiotic point. Proud—he was actually proud of the things he was saying, proud of his position, proud of getting to fill the heads of desperate or else unfortunate people with nonsense. And this made Chris smile—not laugh, just smile, and the soccer mom pulled on his ear really hard, so hard it made his eyes water, and then she raised her hand to snitch on him. The proud overseer was still proud, looked like a king in an old movie, and with the most serious air Chris had ever seen, the fat man called him up before the entire room. His eyes were still watery from the shock of having his ear nearly yanked up and so he looked down, towards the ground, so people wouldn't think he was crying.

"You ashamed of something," the fat overseer asked. Chris didn't say anything. "Look up," said the overseer. Chris kept looking down. His chest moved in and out heavily and his fists were clenched, and he wasn't sure but he may have been crying normal tears by this point, but they were out of rage, not sadness. Or—no…really what's the difference between those two, and it's impossible that the immense hopelessness of his situation and the utter retardation of his surroundings hadn't saddened somewhat. If it were just rage making him cry then he would have also lashed out, punched the overseer or at least called him a name. No. No, the hopelessness must have stung enough to make him sad. But his tears were out of rage primarily, and out of nothing even close to shame.

"Look up. Now."

He did. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were tightened into red little slits but he looked more defeated than mean, more helpless than threatening.

"I want you all to look at this face. Soak it up. Take it all in. Done? Give you another second. Okay, now you're done. This, people, is what failure looks like. Some of you will see it again, right here. This is what it looks like when you don't take yourself seriously, when you don't care enough about yourself to appreciate the chances that are being given to you."

He extended a demerit card towards the Chris’ face. It was accepted without a whimper.

Weeks later, it came time for Chris and the gang to "graduate" from their classes. By this point, Chris had gotten drunk several times (even puked, once) and tried to smoke pot a few times but it hadn't done anything to him. Maybe he was just too drunk to feel it or he wasn't inhaling right, who knows. Anyhow he figured a few bong hits wouldn't hurt before he had to show up to the ceremony, right, since he hadn't felt anything yet. And, man, it was a blast because he was high as a fucking kite at the graduation, must have shoved 20 inches worth of the party sub into his mouth and downed at least 7 flutes of sparkling grape juice.

His mother and stepfather—both stinking rich, by the way, disheartened by the lad's sudden fall from grace and more than a little pleased to see him making such a fast and exemplary recovery with the aid of such a caring and competent program—were dressed to the nines. His mom was making time with the addicts. This was her wont, the irresistible, flirty friendliness that drove her from the dregs of society (Chris' biological father) all the way to where she was today. While this was going on, Stepfather gracefully let loose to the riffraff around him all those little signs that showed that he was a kind man, but of great consequence. He'd talk about sports while stretching him arm just so, just far enough to let his fancy watch fall into view. He'd offer to lift heavy objects as an excuse to show off his bed-made tan, his gym-toned arms and back. All of your jokes made him smile, but only just long enough for you to get a glimpse of his perfectly straight, snow white teeth. Both of them kept making their way over to Chris, who had stationed himself near the concessions table, to whisper into his ear how proud they were of him for pulling himself around and hint bluntly at him still receiving for his birthday a new car. All the while, through this bleary, more-or-less with it haze, feeling content and calm with his surroundings and his high, Chris kept thinking about how much he had it made. Everyone was a sucker, it seemed, but him. Really, wow. Everyone is stupid but me.

The soccer mom cut quickly around the room, stopping alongside each cluster of people and telling them that something important was about to happen, it was time for everyone to walk into the little classroom where they normally met. "You're not gonna want to miss this" she said, looking right into Chris with a mean little smile on her face that she knew would scare him. Oh god, Chris though, she knew that he was high. What was she in here for—ooh shit man, you've heard her talk about it 100 times. Vicodin, right. Vicodin and wine, passing out while one of her kids started a fire. That's right. Calm down. She wouldn't have known what someone looked like when he was high on pot. Mom and Stepfather couldn't even tell and they saw Chris every day. Calm down.

Chris shoved a few more bites of party sub into his mouth. His mom laughed and said "getting better must make you work up an appetite, huh?" Stepfather laughed. Chris couldn't say anything, not even by the time they had walked all the way into the classroom and sat down on little folding chairs, because there was so much sandwich in his mouth. Things began to quiet down within a couple of minutes. The overseer, smiling, poked his head out of his office and waved to the small crowd. People clapped a little bit. Chris noticed that "AWARDS RECEPTION" had been written on the blackboard with colored chalk, the letters alternating blue to red, blue to red. A stack of certificates sat on the table up front. The overseer waddled to the table and gestured towards his office and a large, black policeman walked from office to the entrance. He looked all business. There was another one who poked his head out from the office and then the overseer was still smiling, like the soccer mom he was wearing big, mean, fake smile and Chris sunk into his chair and moaned a little bit because he knew he was about to get arrested, again. Arrested in front of his parents.

Mom asked stepfather what the policemen were hear for the stepfather said—ahh the great rational bastard, it was all Chris could do to stop himself from hugging him—that since this was an official presentation, court mandated and all that, they must have some cops come and witness it. That's all it was. Nothing to get too upset about. Still—gotta stay calm. If the cops took no notice of Chris then they wouldn't take any notice of his being so incredibly fucking high.

"Well," the overseer began. Chris was hyperobservant and noncritical and he realized for the first time how long it took the overseer to get through sentences, because of all of his fat. He'd pause every few words and take in a deep breath from his gut. When he spoke it was in these bursts that were effeminately condescending but still bulky and powerful. Like, if being told you were bad by a sharp-tongued gay man didn't hurt you then maybe being yelled at by an abusive gym coach would. Only he wasn't a gym coach and probably wasn't gay, either. Talked about his wife and kids all the time. This was an act. He had measured out this persona for himself. This was some kind of cruel professionalism.

Jesus, Chris thought to himself. Pot fucks up the way you think about things. How long had it been since they sat down? How long since he'd been scared by the cops? When was the guy going to start talking—ohh, wait he's already talking. Might want to listen:

"And this is what this program is supposed to achieve: smiling faces. Not just the smiling faces of those who are on roads to recovery—their own personal roads—but of their families and their friends. The selfishness might end here. The pain they have caused you, that they are sorry for, might end here. But it's up to everyone here to make sure that all of these faces keep smiling."

He paused—too long. Wanted people to clap for him. They did. Then they finished. He continued. His tone was different. He had sounded like he was reading off a card. Now he sounded more like he normally did, during classes.

"But it would be… hypocritical of me to let everyone who came here leave here, especially… if I knew that they would be making people start… to cry sometime soon. Two of our friends will not be graduating today."

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

"The first… Rup-ERT Donwiddle."

Ahh. Okay. That guy—white guy, lots of scars—never even showed up after the first day. He wasn't even here. Chris sunk his head into his lap, like he was stretching or about to puke, while the overseer mumbled about how Rubert had squandered his chance for recovery and blah blah blah.

"Rufus failed… due to lack of initiative. He didn't come. But every time we have this course, it seems… there is someone who does come… but who shows such disrespect that he might as well not have"

The overseer's tone changed, again, abruptly but not in a way that seemed unplanned. He was talking somewhere in between the rehearsed tone he'd used earlier and the mumbling, jumbled tone he used during regular meetings. The air shifted around Chris. It felt like strategy, men moving into position in order to accomplish some kind of task or anticipate some kind of resistance. The bigger cop stood by the door that led to the outside, blocking it. Meanwhile the guys who had missed the most class and been handed the most demerits began to shift in their seats a little bit while their wives looked at them in white fear, the sterile blank walls felt like they were closing in—that's what expression actually meant, when it actually feels like the room you are in just got smaller, more oppressive—and the big fat fuck who ran the place worse the biggest fatfuck smile Chris had ever seen and he if had dropped dead of a heart attack no one with a mind or soul would have gotten up to help him. In spite of all of this, the synchronization was such that Chris couldn't work up any fear. He was too busy admiring the evil of the whole process.

Chris took to talking to the soccer mom, a few months later, as part of some revenge scheme that never quite materialized. He had first planned on sleeping with the woman and ruining her marriage. When that didn’t work out he thought about maybe figuring out the vulnerabilities of her home and passing that knowledge on to some unseemly sorts who, god willing, would have raped, robbed, and kill her. He didn't do that, though, for the same reason he didn't speak up during the meeting when the police were blocking off the door and overseer was smiling the very worst smile the world had ever seen: because the woman's evil was so immense that he could barely process it, could do little else, in fact, aside from sitting back and admiring it. What he learned from her, after she had opened up to him and filled him on all the details, was that if you didn't pass the rehab course it counted as either a violation of your parole or else as a violation of your court sentence, so your failure was akin to skipping bail trying to escape from prison. That's to say it was a Very Serious offense, one that could put you in prison for a long, long time. And what the overseer hadn't told to anybody but the soccer mom, who was his favorite, was that his policy was that out of every class there had to be at least one addict who failed to pass in spite of showing up, one person who because of this or that reason simply did not deserve to consider his or her self cured of their addiction. That's what the demerits were for. Whoever got the most failed the course. You couldn't tell the whole class about this since then the people who got the most demerits early on would have stopped coming all together. On top of that, if you got into a situation where a few weeks in one guy had racked up 20 or 30 demerits, then that more or less lightens the stakes for everyone else. They'll start mouthing off or falling asleep since they know they'll never make up enough demerits to catch the worst guy, and then by the end of it you'd have been better off not doing any sort of demerit system at all. No—no, the trick was to keep it a surprise. That had two positives: one, you catch the guy by surprise and make sure he gets what's coming to him. Two, you put the fear of god into the others who are all sitting around watching. That's when they got taught what happens if you don't respect the things you should.

All Chris knew at the time of meeting was that the balding factory worker, Hank was his name, was getting pulled up really unnecessarily roughly by the cop, had his arms thrown behind his back, and was getting cuffed and pushed out of the room while his teenage daughter was screaming in abject terror and his wife was burying her head in her hands and then the two women sat there while the smiling overseer berated Hank, talked about how he needed to learn how to accept help and how this was for the good of him and his family and You two ladies should stop crying, it's pointless, what you need right now is strength, loyalty, and conviction. Hank had blown .02 over the legal limit at a road block. He insisted he hadn't had a drop to drink in months, not since his first DUI, that he couldn't perform the heel-to-toe sobriety test successfully because of a fully documented injury he had sustained during Desert Storm and that the alcohol on his breath—which came up on only one of the 5 breathalyzers he was given—must have been from gum or mouthwash or cologne or something. His parole was zero tolerance, though, and so he found himself at the meetings. Every week he told the overseer that something he had said was bullshit. He wouldn't say "My name is Hank and I'm a narcotic," he said, because that is just fucking stupid. He wouldn't apologize for hurting anybody because he hadn't hurt anybody. He wouldn't lie for the sake of lying because goddamn it that's not what this country is about.

And for that he went to prison.

Coming face-to-face with the reality of just how cruel and unfair the system is can, especially for a teenager, lead to a distrust so strong and all encompassing that it borders on despair. This distrust can, sometimes, be healthy and inspire you to try and change things. More often, it can grow into full-blown hatred, a maniacal desire to change things or to right wrongs that leads you to do something rash or destructive. Still more often, it leads to a sense of defeatism, a feeling that you can't win since the system is so fucked so why the hell should you even try. At least, that's what I gather from hearing Chris talk about it. That's probably what I would have done if something like that would have happened to me. I would have given up and failed.

And for the longest time Chris had given up and had failed. He drank and drugged and destroyed. This made him a blast to hang out with. This was when he still lived in Alton and I would see him once every few months, when I was at home visiting my family. My sister moved to Garden City to attend the university at which I now teach. Most of her friends soon followed suit. He was left behind. As I am self-absorbed to the point where I don't care about my friend's lives except for when their stories are particularly miserable or amusing, I don't know much about this time period except that it saw Chris turning things somewhat around. Not by much. He still drinks far too much. But he's in school now—he's at the school where I teach, actually, although I've never had him for a student.

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mythiccheroacademia · 4 years

Text

Single-Parent!Headcanons

Characters: Kirishima Eijirou, Kaminari Denki, and Bakugo Katsuki

A/N: Inspired by y’all. Enjoy <3

Warnings: fluff overload? one tiny curse word

Kirishima Eijirou:

the day his son was born was both the worst and best day of his life

his wife died upon delivery and he almost fainted when he heard the news, bakugo caught him before he could hit the floor

it took him 24 hours before he could gather the courage to go to the nursery and see his baby. he thought he wouldn’t be able to stomach the reminder of losing the love of his life

but when he held the small boy, who instantly nuzzled into his father’s chest, sighing with relief, kirishima was hooked for life

he just continued to hold his son into his chest and cry until he couldn’t anymore

from that day on, he swore he’d be the best parent he could be for his wife and his child’s sake

bc kiri is such a youthful and loving person, taking care of his son was easy, fun, and rewarding

ofc there were hard days, but it was all worth it when his baby would wake up with an adorable laugh, smiling up at him like he was his entire world

they’re two peas in a pod

he and his son are just the cutest pair

he takes his son everywhere, strapping him on his chest with a baby carrier

you bet your ass he’s taken him on (a safe) patrol around the block

kirishima is the kind of dad that puts his kid in a laundry basket, sits them in front of the tv, and acts out rollercoaster sounds

he lives for that loud laugh of his son’s

blows raspberries into the kid’s stomach whenever he starts getting cranky

his son’s first word was “manly” and kirishima spent the entire day bothering the bakusquad about it

everyone has 12 different copies of the video—y’know...just in case

when he takes his first steps, kiri’s swinging him around the house and giving him so many kisses on his chubby cheeks

when he saw his son had one spiky tooth growing in, he almost drowned from the cuteness

the kid gets himself into a lot of trouble tho. he’s always crawling towards the edge of something and putting his hand in things that could totally cut it off. kiri has a heart attack at least once a week

calls him, “son” “bud” and “buddy”

I hc that even though he’s lively around his dad, his son is very shy with new people and in new environments so school is kind of tough for him

but kirishima is always understanding of his troubles and tries his best to let him know that as long as he’s his son, he’ll always be his biggest supporter

if that doesn’t work, they go buy their fav meats and have a random bbq (kirishima just looks like the bbq dad™️ lmao). that always seems to do the trick

when his son enrolls in U.A., he’s there with a banner, his fav meat, and a bunch of tears when he sends him off

his son wears their matching crocs only to cheer up his dad. nothing else

aka he lowkey likes them but you didn’t hear that from me!

kirishima always has the urge to ft his kid, like, every hour. but he won’t bc he knows he’s busy training to be a hero

but he does send him uplifting snapchat videos from time to time

his son still wonders how in the world his dad even knows about snapchat

he makes sure nobody knows about this

when his son calls him about his insecurities, comparing himself to his classmates, kirishima is right there to lift him up. he also dealed with those same issues and tells his son that even on his worst days, he’s strong for just facing the day and he needs to believe in himself before others can believe in him

the next day, the bakusquad is watching the tournament together

kirishima has manly tears in his eyes as his little boy places second place in the sports festival

bakugo is threatening to kill him if he ruins his shirt

Kaminari Denki:

denki becomes a dad from adopting a pair of four year old twins (one boy, one girl) that were left homeless and without parents after a villain attack

he kinda knew the parents from hero work and felt it was an obligation to at least make sure their children were okay

he wasn’t planning on necessarily adopting them. he was young and inexperienced with children. how could someone like him raise a kid when he could barely raise himself?

but after two visits to the orphanage and seeing how miserable they looked, he couldn’t leave the building without signing the papers

the transition was awkward. the twins were not only traumatized, but distrusting and scared. they didn’t really know kaminari and now he was suddenly their adoptive parent

kaminari tried everything from ice cream, to late night movie snacks, to hide n seek to get them to relax but it wouldn’t work

he almost gave up hope, and thought maybe it was a better idea to take them back to the orphanage. but that was before the night he woke up to them crawling into his bed, scared from the thunder storm that rumbled on outside

kaminari froze, scared that he’d frighten them away with any sudden movement, but he soon relaxed and hugged them close to his chest when they snuggled into his sides. he sleeps with a peaceful mind that night

although, he’s awoken to them bawling their eyes out over the nightmares they had. he panics but takes comfort in how they still grip to his shirt, face in his chest, seeking his comfort

therapy becomes a regular thing after that

kaminari finds more focus in his life

and as those helpful sessions go on, kaminari finds the twins beginning to open up more and more

they all sleep together now bc cuddle piles always scare the bad dreams away

the boy starts asking for kaminari to help him pick out his outfits

and the girl starts asking him about his quirk

it’s small things like that that lead up to things like this:

they’re in the midst of playing tickle monster when they scream with laughter, “stop! stop, daddy, you caught us!”

the twins stare at him in confusion (and slight worry) when he scoops them up and cries like he broke his leg or something

they got two huge scoops of ice cream that night so they don’t question it

dad jokes are a must

he wears typical dad outfits like hawaiian shirts, cargo shorts, and flip flops

he calls them his “little rockstars” and yes, it’s still embarrassing

kaminari is a playful dad who doesn’t really take things too seriously

his children are always laughing at his dumb jokes and are never afraid to talk to him about anything that crosses their minds

although, they won’t talk to him about love interests bc he likes to play match maker

the last time his daughter told him about some girl she was crushing on, she found out she left her a personally signed chargebolt poster for the girl in her name

kaminari called it a little boost in spirit

her brother found it funny

she was horrified

kaminari swears up and down he’s the cool dad. his kids think otherwise, but their friends LOVE how much of a jokester he is. and he lets them stay up at sleepovers

plus, he’s literally chargebolt

how could they not love him?

denki has a little trouble being serious when he needs to be, but he has good kids so it’s not that much of a problem

there was that one time his son tried to help him during a villain attack. even though kaminari ordered him to get to safety, he didn’t and ended up getting hurt

the twins had never seen their father so angry. it was kind of scary. however, in the next moment, he gathered them up in a big hug and made them swear not to scare him like that again

overall, kaminari is the sweet, fun loving, dad that everyone wishes they had

Bakugo Katsuki:

katsuki became a father the day he found a baby and a note at his doorstep

the note read: “surprise! you’re a dad. i gave you all the legal rights, but you can place her up for adoption if you want.”

least to say, bakugo was pissed

he was even more pissed at himself for getting someone so cold and unloving pregnant

however, he decides to put the baby up for adoption. he cant take care of a baby! he’s at the height of his career. he can basically taste the number one hero spot on his tongue

he’s dead set w the decision, but as he stands outside of the orphanage, he freezes. he just can’t move

bakugo looks down at his daughter as she opens her eyes for the first time. he sees an identical pair of red eyes that make his chest tight with a feeling he hasn’t experienced in a long time

he turns back around and heads back home. it’s easily the best decision he’s ever made in his life

ngl though, growing into the dad role for bakugo was tough

before the girl, he only ever had to think of himself. he was still used to doing everything on his own time and for his own benefit. so being forced to put 100% of his attention to a small helpless human being was not easy

katsuki admits that the first couple of years weren’t his proudest. he was still short tempered, angry with the world, and frustrated bc he felt like his life was ruined

one time, the frustration and sleep deprivation would hit him all at once and he’d just start going off at the baby to just “shut the hell up!” before breaking down and crying with her

it was a dark moment for him, and yet, even after that, his little girl still curled up in his arms to rest when the tears tired her out

it had been a while since he felt unconditional love like that, and so he decided to change for the baby’s sake

you cant tell me that little girl isn’t spoiled rotten

bakugo is a hardass, but he’s all bark no bite. no matter what, he just can’t resist his little girl’s puppy dog eyes

he’s a girl dad to the t

yes he played the princess that needed saving from the big bad dragon. what about it?

his daughter is a firecracker. she started sassing him as soon as she could gargle

he pretends he hates it but his daughter is lowkey funny asl

they go at it when they fight. bakugo’s learned to be a little more patient, but he still has a bit of a temper and it doesn’t mix well when his mini-me has the same explosive anger

is the kind of dad that says sorry by asking her what she wants for dinner

they totally talk mess about other heroes together. he ignores the fact that she admires deku as long as she keeps it to herself

emotional talks are...awkward, but he forces himself through it

she finds it embarrassing (yet oddly endearing) that he got kicked out of a PTA club meeting for threatening to light up some mom for saying the art program didn’t matter

his daughter absolutely won’t talk to him about potential love interests unless she wants them coming up missing

bakugo won’t admit to watching baby videos of his daughter when he sends her off to U.A. and no, he didn’t cry, he got dust in his eye

doesn’t bother her too much, but jumps for his phone when he hears her ringtone

kirishima says he getting soft, but that’s just his little princess

#I had wayyyyy to much fun doing this #all my uwus just BURST out of my heart #imma make my rounds with the other characters soon enough #just something little to warm myself up #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #bakugo katsuki #kaminari denki #kirishima eijirou #bnha parent!hcs #bnha single dad’s club tbh #domestic bnha #they cute or whatever #also adoption literally doesnt work like how I wrote it. like #at all #but yall knew that #okay im done #come get yall’s juice

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saltymiraculer · 4 years

Text

Ceremonial Kisses (Part 1 of 3)

Part 2

So I decided to try my hand at the “Marinette, the princess of China” trope and see how I did! Tell me what you think?

Also, the first chapter is going to be fluffy, the second chapter’ll have a sprinkling of salt, and the third chapter will be a mix of piles and piles of salt and some fluff. Be warned!

“I’ve got a big, big, big announcement for you today, class!“ Bustier chirped, clapping her hands to get their attention. “China’s princess will be coronated in a week and a half, the day she turns 18, as many of you know, and one class from the school will be selected to travel to China and watch the ceremony. Guess which class it was?“

“Uhhh…Mme. Mendeleiev’s!“

“Ooh, M. D’Argencourt’s? They’ve wanted that trip for weeks!“

“No, class, it’s ours! In three days, we’ll board the plane to Asia and have a few days to sightsee and explore, then attend the coronation on the second-to-last day!“

“Wow! Why our class?“ Kim asked.

Marinette knew exactly why. Marc had told her that the entire school was sick of Lila’s lies and wanted to enjoy the coronation without her butting in in the middle of the assembly to tell a ‘story’ about herself.

But she couldn’t just say that.

“You know, I actually know the princess,“ Lila said, immediately drawing the attention of everyone in the room. “But her identity is being kept a secret for now. That’s how we landed the trip!“

“Wow, Lila!“

“That’s amazing!“

“So cool of you.“

“They know that’s stupid, right?“ Alya stage-whispered, earning a glare from Lila’s new puppy–more commonly known as Kim. She shrugged. “I’m just tellin’ the truth!“

Alya, who was now her only other supporter next to Nino (and technically Adrien, but she’d discuss that later–it was very complicated), had decided to Google Lila’s name during a sleepover and found…some rather incriminating Facebook posts.

After that, she was 100% team Marinette and an amazing friend, along with Nino, who had decided that he needed a theme song. No one knew why.

But they loved him anyways!

So while Bustier was rattling off facts about Chinese emperors and kings and queens, Nino was showing them his latest idea to expose Lila.

“Okay,“ he started. “First, we go to China. Then we do our sightseeing and shit, and then. I did some research, and we can ask the princess questions if we’re with a national news channel. Alya’s blog counts. For real, we can talk to the princess of China. And we ask her if she knows Lila.“

“Brilliant plan, Nino. I wonder how the princess will react to a few teenagers in the middle of a crowd of famous people.“

Nino frowned. “The princess is only, like, 17. She’ll probably notice us, Als.”

“Oh, that reminds me, your birthday’s on the same day as the coronation, Marinette! Weird, isn’t it? That you and the princess have the same birthday?“ Alya asked, pulling out her phone and swiping through something.

“Huh, yeah. You’re right. Maybe we can invite her to my birthday party?“

“Ooh, the wiki page says she likes custard buns, and I’m not sure how they know that,“ Nino chuckled. “but make sure to stock up on those.“

“Noted,“ Marinette said drily as Bustier turned to them with a condemning look on her face. “Alya! I hope what you’re doing on that phone relates to the lesson!“

“China’s princess’s identity is being kept a secret because the last two were sent death threats, dangerous items, highly innapropriate items, and several other things that prompted them to not reveal the princess until it was necessary.“

“C-correct, Alya. Good job.“

“Nice!“ Marinette mouthed, high-fiving Alya, who flipped her phone around to reveal a website about the princess.

-🌸-

The final bell rang as several of the students cheered. One school day until the trip over, three more to go. Alya swung her bag over her shoulder and bumped Marinette’s elbow. “We goin’ to your place to hang out?”

“Yeah, my dad’s out anyways and mom closed the bakery for the afternoon. let’s go!“ Alya took Nino’s hand and walked the short distance to Marinette’s house. They entered and immediately felt something off.

Ah, there it was.

Sabine was leaning over the counter with a cup of very strong-smelling peppermint tea beside her. She was rubbing her temples and muttering to herself in rapid Mandarin.

“Maman? Are you alright?“ Marinette asked worriedly. Alya and Nino stood by the door–they had only seen her like this once before, when her cousin had been run over and killed.

“Yes, dear, everything’s okay, it’s just–there’s something I need to tell you.“

“Oh, no, did something happen to someone?“

“No, no, everyone’s just fine. I can’t not tell you without there being serious problems.“

“So what is it? What’s so important you had to close the bakery?“

“You’re the princess. China’s princess. The one nobody knows about.“

“I’m what?!“ Marinette screeched, grabbing at her hair. “I’m the heir to the throne of the most populated country in the world, and you waited until a week before the coronation to tell me?!“

“Holy shit.“ Alya and Nino said simultaneously. Sabine stared at them, likely just realizing they were there.

“Oh. They know now, too. Perfect, that’s just what we need, a reporter knowing who–“

“Maman! Alya wouldn’t tell a soul, I know she wouldn’t.“

Sabine turned to Alya. “I’m sorry, dear, I’m just stressed. With that trip to China in a few days and all that, we’ll have to close down the bakery for about a week.”

“And we never close down the bakery.“ Marinette finished, putting a steady hand on her mom’s shoulder. “But I know just the person to run it while we’re gone.“

As she was about to say who exactly would run the bakery, Nino backed into the door, wide-eyed.

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. My best friend…holy shit.“

“Nino, I know this is a lot, but we’ll have to stay calm,“ Alya said, grabbing his hand. “So we don’t spill her secret. That’s top priority, all right? Don’t–tell–anyone.“

Nino sighed. “Sorry, babe. This…“ he turned to Marinette. “Do you have any cookies?“

Marinette grinned and led them into the kitchen. “Of course! Chocolate chunk or raspberry frosted?“

“Raspberry, all the way!“

“There’s the Nino I know!“

After a quick cookie interval, Marinette pushed her plate away and sighed. “Anyone up for an impromptu sleepover? You all left a bunch of your clothes here the last few times.”

“Marinette. If you know us, you will know our answers.“ Alya said solemnly.

“Hell yeah. Wanna go choose which terrible rom-com to watch this time?“

They ended up settling on The Kissing Booth, one of Marinette’s personal favorites (”To lighten the tension, you know?” Alya had said. “Although the tension in here probably weighs the same as an obese hippopotamus at this point.”) and made a bowl of caramel popcorn, with a tiny bag of sea-salt Skinny Pop for Nino.

“Sugar on popcorn is a crime, man. I ain’t touching that.“

“You’ve tried it once, Nino.“

“Yes, and I hated it. Is there anything else to be said?“

So they spent the next two hours in a blanket fort that was made almost entirely of throw pillows laughing over Elle and Noah and Lee being idiots, with a few highlights such as the iconic “Ninth grade skirt, eleventh grade body” scene, where Alya snorted and said “You know, Lila’s skipped so much school, might as well be ninth grade brain, eleventh grade work.”

“Too true,“ Nino agreed. “The other day, she called Chloe’s mom Aurora Bourgeois. That was a pretty major mess-up.”

“Shhh! Let’s just watch the movie!“ Marinette said, effectively quieting them down.

They watched the rest in silence with the usual laughs., ending up falling asleep halfway through the second movie, snuggled up on their respective couches. Marinette mother shook them awake the next morning, telling them to take showers and eat breakfast and get dressed and for god’s sake, Marinette, finish your homework.

“Crap, crap, crapcrapcrap! Nino, we’re going to be late if we don’t get ready fast!“ Alya shouted as Marinette ran up the stairs to change. “Can I use your shower, M?“

“Sure!“ was the muffled reply.

After about 10 minutes of running around and shoving waffles in their mouths, they grabbed their bags and ran off to school.

They burst through the door in the nick of time, the bell ringing just as they plunked down their things.

Bustier wasn’t there five minutes into the class, so they started talking.

“Marinette, you have to listen to Nino’s latest track, it’s–“ Just as she was about to describe Nino’s latest track, a bouncy-ball the size of a walrus snashed through the wall, nearly taking off Kim’s head.

There was a cackle from outside. “I am Gradack! You will all feel the same sorrow that I did!“

-🌸-

The fight was over relatively fast, and everything was calmed down and restored before their next class. Turns out Chat Noir didn’t show, so Marinette had to ask Alya for assistance.

In hindsight, she probably should have picked a better place to transform.

“Tikki, spots on!“ After she transformed, she was about to go to Fu to get one of the Miraculous, when she heard a strangled gasp.

“…shit.“

“My best friend is the princess of goddamn China and Ladybug? What the fuck?! Who are you? How did I not know? When did–“

“Alya, I know the feeling, but you can’t tell anyone. Got it?“

“Nino?“

“Well,“ Marinette paused to think. “Yeah, I guess. I trust him enough. Now, take this and transform!“ she tossed Alya the hexagonal box, and after a quick transformation, they ran off to defeat the saddened graduate of an akuma.

As she said, it was an easy fight.

They comforted the victim with four minutes (each) to spare, then ran back to the locker rooms to transform back.

Time Skip!

It was the morning of the flight to China, and she was ecstatic. Of course, she had to get up at 3:45 in the morning, but it was worth it–the flight took off at six in the morning, of course.

She could see the logic of wanting to arrive at 12:00, but she would’ve much preferred a red-eye.

Then she wouldn’t have had to stay up all night reading, because no way in hell would she just wake up at 3:45 in the morning.

The alarm would’ve had to go off for hours.

But back to the morning, she poured herself a sasquatch-sized mug of coffee, with about a gallon of cream and enough sugar to put an entire city of diabetics into shock, she started getting dressed.

Trudging around and haphazardly pulling out shirts, she finally decided on a simple red-and-orange flannel, a white t-shirt, and a pair of cropped jeans.

The she downed the rest of her coffee with an apathetic “Bottoms up!” and slapped her cheeks.

She grapped her suitcase and walked outside to where her mother was typing away on a laptop in the pitch-black night.

“Mom, why are you up?“

“Because I have to drive you to the airport, that’s why. And no alarm would be able to wake me up at 3 in the morning.“

“Preach. I’m ready to go, so can we get in the car now?“

After driving to the airport and saying goodbye to her mom, she walked into the airport and immediately saw the group of sleepy teens (and a certain disheveled teacher) leaning on their suitcases, trying not to fall asleep.

Nino and Marinette were already there, their eyelids drooping. The only person who looked properly awake was Sabrina, who was–inevitably–holding a saucer out to Chloé, who was sipping from a teacup.

Alya rolled her eyes and walked over to Marinette and Nino. “Who’re we missing?”

“Kim and Rose. They’re carpooling, so they should be here any minute.“

Just as Marinette had said, a few seconds later, Rose and Kim walked into the airport. Kim was still wearing pajama pants.

Another Time Skip!

“Marinette.“ Alya groaned, shaking Marinette’s shoulders. “Marinette, wake up, we’re here.“

Marinette’s eyes fluttered open. “No. Five more minutes.”

“Everyone else is already off the plane!“

“Shit. Let’s go!“ Marinette said, jumping up, grabbing her purse (which she had recently learned concealed a kwami) and scrambling out the door.

Alya picked up the mini-backpack she now carried (which held Trixx, cookies, and some grape jelly) and followed her out the door.

Almost as soon as they stepped off the plane, they heard a loud wail.

“Great. She’s back on her bullshit.“

“I just can’t believe she would steal that, Lila! It’s so unlike her!“

“M-maybe, but there’s p-proof! Look!“

“Oh, great, what did we do this time?“ Alya asked exasperatedly. They watched as Lila held out the remains of–from what they could see from a meter away–a sketch of an orange mermaid gown with a black lace collar, ripped into quarters and laid out on the ground.

Marinette gasped beside her.

“That’s your dress, isn’t it?“

A small tear made its way down Marinette’s face. “It was going to be for you,” she said softly.

Alya threw her arms around Marinette and rubbed her shoulders. “It’s okay, sweetie. Once you’re princess, we’ll sue her for all she’s worth.”

Marinette detached herself from Alya and wiped her eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks, Alya.”

-🌸-

Nino stormed up to where Alya and Marinette were standing with a furious expression on his face.

“That fox,“ he seethed. “that bitchy little fox of a liar stole your drawing.“

Marinette chuckled wetly. “Yeah, we know.“

“Are you okay? I know how important they are to you.“

“I’m fine, Nino, and o–who the hell are you?“ A man in an oddly formal suit was standing next to her, holding out a small red envelope.

Marinette plucked the envelope from his fingers, opened it, and read the contents. She looked up and nodded at the suit-wearing guy.

“Good. In that case, Miss Dupain-Cheng, I’m going to need you to come with me.“ Alya and Nino immediately stepped in front of her in a protective shield.

“She’s not in trouble, is she?“

The strange man looked surprisingly amused. “Not at all–but you might want to come with us, too. You as well, headphone-boy.”

Nino put a hand on his chest and gasped in offense.

“Nino. He’s going to drive us to the palace. You’re coming, too, ya doof!“ Nino made a noise of realization and followed them out to where a black limousine was waiting.

They climbed in and drove off.

About five minutes into the drive, he moved his foot to the side, accidentally kicking a black box.

Just as he was preparing his final goodbyes, it sprung open, and inside was a junk food lover’s heaven.

“Dude.“

#ml #ml salt #ml salt fic #marinette dupain cheng #marinette deserves better #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #alya sugar #nino sugar #lila rossi #lila salt #lila bashing #adrien agreste #adrien salt #adrien bashing #marinette the princess of china #WHY ARE YOU READING THE TAGS

1K notes · View notes

rpmemesbyarat · 3 years

Conversation

RP meme from Tremors

Let's get you out of the sun for a spell.

Please move your fat ass.

Well, when I'm your age I'll probably forget what I eat, too.

How many cows does it take to make a stampede? Is it like three or more? Is there a minimum speed?

You will have long blonde hair, big green eyes, nice full breasts that stand up and say hello, ass that won't quit. And legs, legs that go all the way up!

Yeah, well, I'm getting what I refer to scientifically as "weird vibes."

They're all the same; dead weight. Can't make a decision, can't walk because of their shoes, can't work because of their fingernails. Make my skin crawl!

Well, I'm a victim of circumstance.

Twenty years of looking for a woman exactly like Miss October 1968, and where'd it get me?

Down, honey, down.

The way you worry, you're gonna have a heart attack before you get to survive World War III.

Right. We plan ahead. That way we don't do anything right now.

The idea was; we were ripping you off.

Now, you know I'm good for it.

Are we too easy-going?

If we're gonna take the plunge we oughta have a better plan than that.

Stop it! Stop it, you horrid animal!

God almighty, my mama sure didn't raise me for this.

You're the one's gotta have a plan.

What keeps us doing jobs like this is you dragging your feet.

You gonna stand there in broad daylight and tell me you think I'm the reason we're still here?

I'll call that little bluff.

Forget it, man. It's not worth it.

We did it! We faced temptation and we did not bend!

Last chance, asshole.

Jeez, look at that guy.

You're full of shit.

He must've really been drunk this time.

You damn fool, you owe me on this one

Well, whatever the hell happened it's just one more goddamn good reason to haul ass out of this place.

Hey, where the hell's that asshole dog?

We got a killer on the loose!

He's cutting people's heads off!

I'd high-tail for town if I was you!

The phone is out!

We've gotta get the police up here.

Well, there's sure as hell nothing to stop us now.

Is some higher force at work here?

Are we asking too much of life?

You on a booze break or what?!

Where are the bullets? Don't we have any goddamn bullets?

Hey, I don't want spend the night out here!

What the hell you doing back already?

Unreal! Where'd you get it?

It's disgusting.

So, it's some kind of snake?

It's dead all right. Tore the damn thing in half.

There's gotta be more out there, a lot more.

Slick as snot and I'm not lying.

Look, we organize, we arm ourselves.

We go out, we find those damn snake things, we make 'em extinct.

Might be aliens. Who knows?

Why go looking for trouble?

Phone's out. Road's out. We're on our own.

I'm dead. Let's finish in the morning.

Just keep looking at that beautiful sky.

Damn that thing!

Well, what's wrong with it?

You sure this is where it was?

God, what a stink!

Something's got me!

Oh, God! Get me Out!! GET ME OUT!!

Somebody stop it!

You want the rifle or the Smith?

IT'S GOT ME! IT's GOT ME! AAAAHGH!

You stupid punk!

One of these days, [NAME], somebody's gonna kick your ass.

Come back with the Sheriff.

Come back with the National Guard.

That means we're gonna be out here, like, in the dark.

Oh, man, I hate this shit.

Ride like hell.

How could they bury an entire Plymouth station wagon?

They're under the goddamn ground!

There must be a million of them!

It's gaining on us!

We can do it, we can do it!

We killed the bastard!

Did you just notice something weird?

Think it smells like that 'cause it's dead?

I think they shoot right outta its mouth, hook you, and pull you right in.

Good thing we stopped it before it killed anybody else.

I'm lucky it didn't find me.

This is like, well, let's say it, it's probably the biggest zoological discovery of the century.

Just look at what we caught here!

This is one big mother!

Come on, nobody's ever seen one of these!

There are five more of these things!

Five more?

If you compare the different readings, there have to be five.

There's nothing like them in the fossil record, I'm sure.

I'd vote for outer space. No way those are local boys.

The government built them, a big surprise in the next war.

How the hell's it even know we're still here?

It can sense the slightest seismic vibration, hear every move we make.

I always wanted to be stuck on a desert island. But somehow I always imagined, you know, water.

You know, I hate to be crude, but I'm gonna have to take care of some business here.

I'll tell you, if you ever wanted proof God is a man, this is it.

Running's not a plan. Running is what you do when the plan fails.

You're not even trying to come up with a plan!

Think it's still following us?

You go north, I'll go south.

Well, I'm scared, but I'm not sorry.

All right, I'm about as subtle as a donkey's ass.

You think we're not even safe here in town?

I think we should all get the hell out while the getting's good.

You should have a theory at least.

This valley's just one long smorgasbord and if we don't haul ass outta here we're the next course.

You little ass wipe!

You knock that off or you're gonna be shitting that basketball!

Where are we going to go that's safer than right here?

I'm gonna kick his ass!

Man, you got a gun?!

Big as a house!

Remember, no noise. No vibration.

Get off your pogo stick!

Go back, for chrissake!

Come on! Outta your pants!

Just run! Run like screaming fuck!

This oughta hurt like hell.

So, is that one of your usual jobs, saving peoples' lives?

How long till they go away?

Shut it up! Shut the little bastard up!

Quiet! Quiet you hateful thing!

Chuck him out the door!

Son of a bitchin' lowlife, putrid, scum.

I got enough food here to last us for weeks.

Jesus! Shut it off!

Can't you shout a little quieter?

How the hell long it take you to change a tire?

They're coming after you! They're coming right now!

Big monsters under the ground, [NAME]!

Broke into the wrong goddamn rec room, didn't you, you BASTARD!

We killed that motherfucker!

Uh, be advised, however, there are four more, repeat, four more motherfuckers.

They got one! They killed one of the sons of bitches!

You're not getting any penetration, even with the elephant gun.

Never figured on having to shoot through dirt! Best goddamn bullet stop there is.

They can feel our vibrations, but they can't find us.

The bastards are up to something.

Oh, wow, man! No way! No fucking way, man!

They're gonna tear this whole town out from under us!

We'll come get everybody. Just hang on tight.

Since when the hell's every goddamn thing up to us?!

We don't have a hell of a lot of time here.

We need a helicopter is what we need, or a goddamn tank.

Jesus. It's slower than hell.

Couldn't we distract them somehow?

We need a decoy.

Hey, [NAME], you wanna make a buck?

We're gonna save our asses here!

Get real. I'm faster than you.

Damn. Guess I have to do it.

Watch your ass, shithead.

Don't worry about me, jerkoff.

You goddamn suicidal son of a bitch!

He'll never make it! They're gonna get him!

HEY, YOU SORRY SONS OF BITCHES, COME AND GET ME!

Goddamn good thinking!

Me next!

Get me off of here!

We got about three seconds!

God damn! Armored transport!

What do you think? Max firepower or...?

I'd go for penetration.

Give me a gun! I'll take one!

I wouldn't give you a gun if it was World War Three.

Underground goddamn monsters?!

Any sign of'em?

Maybe they're taking a dump.

What the hell are they doing? They're up to something.

I don't care what they're doing as long as they're doing it way over there.

They dug a trap! I can't believe this!

Hungry?! Eat this!!

Here they come! They're coming back!

They'll sure as hell get us if we stay here!

[NAME] do you have any more of those things?

Then, when the explosion happens, if it drives them away again, we all run like goddamn bastards!

What if it doesn't scare them? What if they don't run?

They're so sensitive to sound, they have to run! It hurts too much!

We're gonna run. Get ready.

They're too fast! You can't outrun them, no way!

It worked! There they go!

You asshole! There's no bullets in this gun!

Could we make it to the mountains?

What's the matter with you? What are you talking about?!

Those animals would have killed you!

You haven't seen what they can do.

They're not falling for it!

I'll make'em pay attention, goddamnit

We can't kill them all.

Use the fucking bomb!

This better be one great plan!

We could make some real money off this whole thing, get in People magazine.

Sell the movie rights.

You're really leaving, huh?

There's going to be major research up here.

And thanks for everything, you know, saving my life and stuff.

Civil? I'm civil.

You're not civil, you're glum.

We got the world by the tail with a downhill pull and all of a sudden you go glum on me.

Somebody paying you to do this?

She just practically asked you for a date.

God, my work is never done.

Fine, make the mistakes I did.

I think I'll just be playing this hand myself.

I'd goddamn worship her.

Can you fly, sucker?! CAN YOU FLY?!

#rp meme #rp memes #rp starters #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #roleplay memes #tremors

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