#and i also debated several times if i should just trash it

[serials1nner]

choose your side

#star wars #obikin #kylux #fanart #laundry and taxes #digital art #sketch #two sides of my brain fought and this came out #in another life #look at me go following trends #this took way too long #and i also debated several times if i should just trash it

[ooops-i-arted]

Gina Carano Sues Disney and Lucasfilm. According to Just Some Guy at 1 : 36 of the youtube video. Gina Carano was the one who put gasoline into the fire herself by intentionally starting a fight with trans people and mocking them for their importance in society.

I was sick the day the happened and @jennadknowsbest-blog was kind enough to tell me and boy let me tell you, despite feeling like crap I was laughing like this allllllll day

If you too need a good laugh, read the released document thingy. It's badly written on so many levels. (I saw it on Reddit but I think it's floating around Tumblr too. There are some golden comments on both.) Both from just a writing style perspective (it's written like a teenager's Star Wars fanfic) and the fact that her main argument is that "Pedro Pascal said mean things about conservatives and wasn't punished" when 1. most of the posts were apparently before he was hired as the Mandalorian and 2. it seems like pretty common knowledge in fandom that he was asked to tone it down and he did. I follow him on Insta and he rarely posts outside of promoting his own work, and it's largely "support this cause" or "I love my trans sister" instead of attacking/joking at anyone. (I guess his Twitter had more comments, but he's since deleted it afaik.) Overall, it's likely just a stunt to get the right-wing frothing at the mouth and Gina's name back in people's mouth, because she hasn't filmed anything since Terror on the Prairie (one of two Daily Wire films she was supposed to have, the other appears to not be happening anymore) and My Son Hunter (which was straight Breitbart propaganda). Shatpiro has used and dumped her and while I doubt she's hurting for money, I bet she's desperate to get the praise and attention and adoration that the Cara Dune role briefly brought her. Why else would she come crawling back to a company she's publicly trashed and accused of mistreating for the last several years? It doesn't make sense by her own logic! If they were so bad, why does she want back? (And who's gonna hire her now if they think she's a liability who's going to turn around and sue them?)

It's really disgusting though that Gina wants to claim she was discriminated against for being a woman while actively mocking minority groups. Her post appeared on my Insta fyp and I usually don't click because I know she's gonna piss me off, and I clicked and she did. At the time she had a story that said "Still beeping, bopping, booping" with a smirky picture of her. So all she's been told - we know Pedro talked to her because she herself admitted it on Twitter*, and while I'm sure there were plenty of people jumping on the hate bandwagon, there were also people trying to genuinely explain - and explained how this is hurtful to the queer community, she still keeps doing it and thinks it's funny.

That's what's unforgivable to me. Not that she said ignorant shit in the first place - we all have - but her refusal to learn and do better. She wants to say whatever she wants without pushback and so do her fans. The few times I've thought it's worth it to try and talk to someone about it, they always insist it's just her opinion and say something homophobic to me as well (last time I talked to a Cara Dune content creator on Insta, she said she "doesn't agree" with me being gay and "I can't expect everyone to agree with me." For wanting to exist as a gay person. Apparently I should just take it when people mock me or say I should burn in hell.) That's the problem with Gina and her supporters. They don't care, they don't want to think critically or debate, they want to say anything they want without consequence and brush off any conflict with "well it's just a joke" or "it's just her opinion."

Bigotry is not an opinion. You can't "not agree" with someone's skin color and it's the same with their sexuality. You don't get a fucking opinion on whether I have the right to exist as a queer woman.

Let's not pretend the things Gina says are in a void. People who flock to her believe the same things she does. That's why people have protested her attending FanExpo (this video goes into more depth thank you @jennadknowsbest-blog for sharing), when you invite people who, like her, think it's funny to mock anyone like them, it doesn't make a safe or welcoming environment for people like me. Sure one can brush off a comment or two - but where do you draw the line? When does it become harassment? And who is going to protect people like me from that harassment? How can I count on security from an organization that invited Gina and encouraged these people in the first place?

And I say all this as a queer woman who is able to chameleon myself very well because I've done it since childhood. Things are only getting more dangerous for people who are visibly queer. A nonbinary teen was just killed in Oklahoma. I live in a relatively blue area of a blue state, but that doesn't mean I'm completely safe. There are extremists out there, and they're only getting more bold - because people like Gina think it's amusing to fan the flames. Gina, at least, has faced some consequences for it. I doubt this lawsuit will go anywhere (either it'll be settled and Elon and Gina have some Own The Libs content, or they'll be dismissed/lose and they'll get some A Woke Judge Discriminated Against Me content). Gina will be happily on her way. Meanwhile, I get to wonder if the people around me who dismissively say "it's just her opinion" are the kind of people who don't think much about social issues.... or are the kind of people who will happily vote my rights away in the next election.

I assure you, if you have friends who are queer, they are listening to what you say about this case. Throughout all her tomfoolery, I've found Gina to be an excellent canary in the coal mine when it comes to identifying homophobes.

-

*She apparently later told Tucker Carlson that no one bothered to explain the pronouns thing to her, so we know she's a liar who twists the story as well, which is why I never take anything she says in good faith.**

**I'm very embarrassed I know this but I can't help but following up on stupid things she's doing. She fascinates me. She's like the inverse of a blorbo to me, like she pisses me off but she compels me. How can one person be this dumb. (Fr tho has anyone in her life talked to her about CTE??? Impulsiveness/aggression are possible symptoms....)

#gina why can't you be normal i would still be a fan if you weren't an asshole #I have a lot of Feelings bc first finding out about Cara/Gina I really related to and admired her #and then........this #anti gina carano #asks #gina carano

[theincredimazingbablesquatch]

This has been a long time coming, and I've been tearing myself up inside debating the pros and cons, but after several years of contemplation I've decided to just... stop.

The whole reason I started making music way back in the year of our lord 2012 was to have fun. I knew very little about music theory and even less about composition and production. But I didn't let it stop me. I wanted to do it, and I was going to do it.

And I did have fun. I enjoyed most of what I was doing. I had no illusions that it was good, but it was pretty good for someone just hitting buttons until it sounded okay, right?

At some point though, that started to shift. Every time I showed someone my work, the reactions were "oh okay" at best and "this is trash" at worst, and it started to weigh on me. I didn't set out to do it for other people, but being reminded time and again that my work was mediocre at best still hurt. So it started to transition from "I want to make something" to "I want to make something worth hearing"

The problem with that is, when it comes to art at least, I am too much of a perfectionist. Once I started learning the "rules" it got harder and harder to make anything that satisfied me. Music quit being fun, and started being not just a chore, but a chore that more often than not leaves me feeling frustrated, burned out, and more than a little mad at myself for not being able to "just crank out shit songs like I used to." Even when I try to just ignore it and keep working, there is a deep dissatisfaction itching at the back of my mind that completely kills any creativity I'm feeling before it even gets out of the nursery. I often open my DAW with hope that "I can just fuck around, make some noise, if it doesn't go anywhere at least I did it anyway." And I often close it realizing that I've just spent two hours making everything sound worse than when I opened it.

It... honestly sucks. At the rate this has been going, I am starting to hate my music. And I do not want that. I do not want what was once a profound passion to become nothing but misery and depression.

I've thought for a while that maybe I should take a step back. Take a break, do nothing. And sometimes I do. But I never hold myself to it for very long, and without fail as soon as I do go back to it the cycle starts all over again. For the sake of my own sanity, this has to stop.

So.. That's it I guess. End of an era, all good things and so on.

I won't say this is permanent, but I also won't give a time frame. Quite simply, I don't know if this will be for a year, or a decade, or forever. All I do know is I need to be done, before the fondness has been completely erased by the bitterness.

Maybe some day, the noble Bablesquatch will roam the land once more. Or maybe the species has gone extinct. Only time will tell. But either way, thank you to the small handful who did support me over the years.

#my music #bablesquatch

[videcoeur]

sir crocodile,

i cannot believe you were a no-show to the most recent warlord meeting because you missed perhaps the funniest thing i have ever seen. there were pyrotechnics. glitter. boa’s heel got caught in the ceiling several people died. seriously, i’m still laughing. it was so funny i can’t even put what i saw into writing—so i guess if you want to know, you’ll have to come visit me in person.

sorry, that was a lie. it was as boring as always; sengoku and tsuru glared at me from the head of the table, as usual the only two warlords who showed up are the boring ones who don’t talk—you know, same old same old. nothing to report, really. though, i did get disappointed when i didn’t see you. are you hiding from me? every time i arrive unannounced to alabasta, i can never seem to track you down. but, that can’t be right, can it? you, avoiding me? unheard of.

as it happens, i’ll be in the country around valentine’s day to discuss some things with king nefertari. at the latest reverie, we got into a bit of a heated debate over this-and-that and he offered to host me at his palace to, y’know, build foreign relations and all that. i may have oversold my investment in actually speaking with him (he’s just so boring—but not a fun boring, like you where you at least occasionally threaten to murder me) so i’m desperately looking for other ways to distract myself while there. you’ll help me, won’t you? you are the hero of alabasta, after all, isn’t it your job to come to the aid of the little people?

or at least come to the meeting with me. please, gods, come to the meeting with me.

　　　　　　　　　　okay, perfect. it’s a date <3 　　　　　　　　　　 　　　　 - d. d. f.

The pink envelope with the flamingo stamp leaves little to the imagination as to who this letter is from. Crocodile's first reflex is to crumple and trash it; he's not even interested in the letter's content. Unfortunately, his multi-armed assistant seems to think this is a bad idea, so she fetches it right as he scores a perfect 3-pointer in his trash with it.

Needless to say, his age starts to show as the creases in his forehead deepen and his gaze sombers.

"Nico Robin, do you think that's wise? I've already thrown that." Her dainty fingers start to unscramble that abhorrent piece of perfumed pink paper before she delicately deposits it on his desk.

"Of course you did. But if, by some unfortunate twist of fate, my boss were to miss an opportunity to prevent a one-on-one with his most hated, I would be a terrible assistant, don't you think?"

How he hates how right she is. This letter was probably nonsense. In fact, most of it was probably nonsense. But on the off chance Doflamingo warns him about his sudden arrival, Crocodile should not waste this opportunity. It could give him juuuuuust enough time to not avoid the man but also not see him, you feel?

Disdain twists his sharp traits, making him uglier than he needs to be. Crocodile acts like the simple act of touching that paper is repulsive. It is not, but he wants to ensure everybody understands his stance on Doflamingo. Despite how much he's told the man how little he wants to do with him, it never seems enough to keep him at bay. He's nothing short of a pest, and Crocodile hasn't yet found the right poison to get rid of it.

Crocodile tears the envelope with the sharp point of his hook, eyes locking on the first sentence for a moment.

NONSENSE. Of course, it was.

The sandman glances back up at Robin and dismisses her. He doesn't need her here as he reads that letter. He does not TRUST that woman not to plot something, anything, to put Doflamingo in his way.

Each word just further incenses him. It's the casualty of it all. Acting like they're friends, almost. Good job, Doffy. He does not even need to be in Crocodile's vicinity to ruin his day.

But it's the ending that sends him into a flying rage. A date? He couldn't be serious. And yet, Crocodile knows that he is and that Doflamingo will make true to his words. Valentine's Day, huh?

For reasons Crocodile does not care to explain, he'll be swamped at the casino that night. Perhaps he'll be entertaining some business partners, interviewing new singers, or whatever, really. As long as he does not have time for Doflamingo and stays out of his way...

Crocodile crumples the letter again and throws it in the trash, where it belongs. Then, he reaches for the hidden den den mushi in his desk drawer.

"Miss AllSunday," Robin replies with a quick yes before Crocodile interrupts again. "On the 14th, I take no visitors. No exception."

#LORD HELP ME IM DCRYING OVER THIS #DOFFY PLS #( t; crocodile. ) #( oprp. ) #THATS A DATE #Crocodile: nani the fuck

[assignedvampireatbirth]

I’m a transfag (gay transmasc) vampire (mentally and spiritually, but sadly not physically because that isn’t currently possible with the technology we have) who is also plural (but not one of the fake TikTok ones bc I’m actually severely traumatized) and I have NPD and ASPD with strong BPD traits. So yeah, expect me to post an insufferable amount about all of these traits of mine. Because they’re a fucking HASSLE but lowkey sexy and based.

Things I like and you might see a lot about on here (or might not, I’m not a very predictable poster even to myself tbh):

- Me (and everything about me, especially my own psychology. So this would include stuff about the disorders I have and that I find interesting, like my personality disorder(s), ptsd, etc.)

- Sex

- Death

- My gayness and transness (Since my parents aren’t appreciative of it, I gotta celebrate it and flaunt it here because otherwise no one will)

- Vampires (because I lowkey am one)

- Blood suckin’ and neck bitin’

- Dark psychology

- Typology

- Violence/gore/murder/etc

- Media: Interview with The Vampire (show and movie), American Psycho (movie), Hannibal (show and movie (SOTL)), The Boys (show), Good Omens (show), Dracula (show and movies), Sherlock (show), Homicide Hunter (show), Family Guy (I know it’s trash but honestly? It’s a tour de force every time. It’s iconic. Pure cinema)

- FASHION!!!! (I’VE BEEN SLAYING CUNT SINCE I COULD STAND. I’VE BEEN KNOWN AS THE STYLISH ONE IN ALL OF MY CIRCLES, INCLUDING MY WHOLE FAMILY AND EXTENDED FAMILY SINCE I COULD THINK. IF YOU THINK I’M FUCKING WITH YOU, CHECK OUT MY SHOPLOOK (basically the inferior but still very good successor of Polyvore) IT’S @God_of_fashion)

Things I don’t like and you will probably also see a lot of on here because because I’m a hateful, argumentative son of a bitch who loves to complain and criticize:

- Shit fashion taste

- Lack of class (This can include poor fashion sense, as well as people whose tastes, actions, and words reek a philistine and kitsche energy)

- Slobbiness, sloppiness, and slothliness (basically people who make tons of excuses for why I should accept their sluggish aura, tastes, and actions without criticizing them. People who do fuckall all day and then order greasy takeout, eat ten servings of it, and then hop online to order a $200 pair of boots from their $1500 computer in their heated and comfy home and then go to Twitter to complain that the government doesn’t give them enough. It’s oddly specific but that’s only because there’s so many fucking people who fit that description who are the loudest online.)

- People who insist that peace must be kept at all times and who get “scared” when you start debating and actually talking about something interesting other than what people ate today or the weather

- People who think America’s problems are the worse they can possibly get (please visit Yemen. And please don’t say that our problems can be fixed by Communism because I will karate chop your throat so you will stop speaking)

- People who think America has no problems and is the best country in the world (Please visit literally any other first world country. I promise we’re not that great. Like yeah we’re all super privileged by a large margin, even the absolute poorest of the poorest usually eat at least once every day and have the option to sleep somewhere warm every night, but there’s PLENTY of ways America could improve a LOT)

- Far left and far right ppl, and the people without a political opinion. What ever happened to having a solid and firm opinion without suggesting we either bring back slavery or start a Communist revolt?

- People who are just… Really gross and slimey publicly??? Like 40 year old bronies with oily hair who lust over Applejack or whomever the fuck. I also don’t wanna hear your really gross opinions, like about how you think people should be allowed to post drawings of CHILDREN having sex without being “harassed”, or how you think it’s ableist to use deodorant. (Actually I do wanna hear them so I can laugh at you and then make sure to avoid you.)

[theotherbluewizard]

Being rich is being a hedonist

Complete idiots often say money doesn’t buy happiness. Obviously, yes it does, when you spend it on other people. If you give the needy money and see the joy it brings them you will have just bought happiness for them AND for you. This is why rich people think money doesn’t buy happiness, because they’re greedy, that’s how they got to be rich. The profit motive is hedonism, pure and simple. Profit motive is a soft language rebranding of the basic bitch concept of hedonism. These people are surrounded by the needy whose lives they could change for the better and they don’t, because they care more about having money than helping people, which is hedonism. And hedonism is just drunk nihilism, and nihilism is a basic bitch ideology for people who have never read any philosophy whatever. The simple cure for nihilism is acquiring literally any philosophical education. Even the chronically depressed only go fully nihilist at their worst moments or in the absence of philosophical education, and when a depressed person becomes nihilistic we are given to understand they have been REDUCED to that, exactly as a person who is made to go without food and shelter for a long period will usually be reduced to an animal until they can be well again. There is no excuse for nihilism or hedonism, they’re fucking childish and inane and the product of broken minds and I am under no obligations to respect people who follow them purposefully. There is no such thing as a rich Christian. It says so in the Bible. Several times. If you are rich, or you are not openly working against the rich, you are no Christian, it says so in the Bible. Several times. This is not up for debate, it is publicly available fact. There are no Christian conservatives, the ideologies are mutually contradictory. This is also not up for debate. No Christian opposes welfare, no Christian condones war, no Christian proselytizes, no Christian endorses the rich, no Christian shuns thy neighbor. There are no conservative Christians. Being rich is a subcategory of being a hoarder. When you hoard trash they call you a hoarder and assume you need therapy. When you hoard beanie babies or glass figures or dolls they call you a hoarder, or they call you obsessed, or they call you cat lady, and assume you need therapy. When you hoard guns they call you a gun nut and assume you plan on being a raider at the first opportunity and as such barely pass for human, and assume you need therapy. When you hoard cheese wheels they call you a neckbeard who plays too much Skyrim, and assume you need therapy. When you hoard money they call you rich, they call you miser, they call you scrooge, they call you heartless, they call you godless, they call you sociopathic, and the only ones who don’t assume you need therapy are the ones who want to hoard money as well, presumably because they need therapy. Rich people should be sent to asylums, not put in control of anything. They are literally the worst people on Earth. The average terrorist has done less tangible harm, the average dictator has a lower body count. The rich have controlled the Earth for over a century and the dead who were their charge are legion. The rich are not simply mentally ill in the extreme, they are the greatest danger to life on Earth in the history of the world and they must be contained immediately.

#left wing #politics #leftblr #wizardrant

[spidey-stark]

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary - Reader and Peter are having a sleepover and when he wakes her up from a nightmare their true feelings start to come out. 

Warnings - Mentions of blood 

Word Count - 2,178

Authors Note - The amount of Peter Parker content I have saved in my drafts is unreal and yet I’m still not tired of writing for him yet. If you have any requests please send them my way! For Peter or for other characters! :) Hope you enjoy! 

Sleepovers weren’t exactly an uncommon thing for them. 

After all, they had been best friends for years now. Where one went the other was always following close behind, one right after the other. But in the past the sleepovers had always been more of a fun thing, a planned movie marathon filled with junk food and Star Wars. Or sometimes they were just happy accidents, one of them happening to fall asleep on the others bed and neither wanting to leave the comfort of the sheets wrapped around their bodies. They weren’t like that anymore though. They were almost a necessity now--both of them knowing that neither would be capable of sleeping without the other nearby. 

When Peter became Spider-Man they both thought that it was this amazing thing; who wouldn’t love being or knowing a real life superhero? As time continued to pass they began to realize all of the baggage that came with him putting on that mask. All of the trauma. All of the loss. 

Peter had been through so much. Nights spent bleeding out on your bed and wondering if he would heal before he bled out. Memories of falling off of buildings or being injured by whoever(or whatever) he was fighting. And then there was the guilt. The overwhelming soul crushing guilt. 

He would never get used to watching his best friend suffer due to his new secret identity, constantly shoving you in harms way no matter how hard he tried to avoid it. The countless encounters with death as you found yourself stumbling right in the middle of danger, each time making him feel like he was getting closer and closer to losing you. 

And even with all of that aside, there was also the guilt that came from knowing all that you had lost from knowing him. 

Tonight was one of the nights where that guilt weighed heavily on him. 

It was the 6 month anniversary of your mother’s death, a casualty during one of Spider-Man’s fights. A death that he knew he would never be able to forgive himself for failing to prevent, even if it wasn’t truly his fault. 

“You’ve gotta be more careful.” You spoke lightly, eyes focused in on the cut on Peter’s abdomen, dabbing a cloth against it to try to clean up some of the blood. “Otherwise I’m gonna be really pissed when you stain my new comforter.” 

Peter winced at the pressure being applied to the tender skin. “Don’t worry, next time I’m stopping a carjacker I’ll be sure to avoid getting stabbed only for the sake of your comforter.” 

"That’s very thoughtful.” You teased, placing the cloth on the bedside table and pulling open the drawer to reveal the numerous first aid items you kept on hand for Peter’s late night trips to your room. 

He sat in silence as she unwrapped one of the several large bandages, placing it over the wound and carefully smoothing it out as best you could without hurting him. His eyes stayed glued to you as you stood up, collecting the trash from the bandages and grabbing the bloody cloth, walking to the other side of your room to throw everything away and get rid of any evidence that you were Spider-Man’s personal nurse. 

“How are you holding up?” He had debated on whether or not he should even ask the question, but it fell out of his mouth before he could even decide if it was a good thing to ask. 

You hadn’t spoke much of your mothers death since it had happened. At first you were a mess, as expected, but after a couple of weeks you just stopped. Stopped crying. Stopped hiding away in your room. Stopped talking. And it was impossible for Peter to fight the thought creeping around in the back of his head that maybe you were avoiding it because you didn’t want him to feel bad--or responsible--for causing the pain that you were in. 

You turned to face him, offering a small smile. “I’m okay, Pete. Honest.” 

He cocked an eyebrow at you, making it clear that he still didn’t quite believe the claims. “You sure?” 

Nodding in response, not saying a single word, you walked back over to the bed and pulled the covers back, quickly sinking into them. 

“Alright-” Peter raised his hands up in defeat, “Just remember I’m here for you. Always.” 

“Thank you.” 

“That’s what best friends are for.” 

You lifted the blankets on the other side of the bed, patting at the mattress. “Now come lay down. It’s like, one am, and I don’t know about you but I am exhausted.” 

Peter didn’t bother speaking another word, knowing that even if he had the perfect thing to say it wasn’t going to make you feel any better right now and it wouldn’t make you open up to him. So instead he carefully crawled towards the top of the bed and slid underneath the blankets beside her. 

He felt like he had just barely been asleep when he was already being woken up by a strange gasping sound. Leaning up slightly in the bed, propping himself up on his elbows, he turned to glance at Y/N through squinted eyes. The sight was enough to make his heart break instantly. 

You were practically curled into a ball, your arms tightly wrapped around your body and your face stained with tears. As far as Peter could tell you were still asleep, and clearly you were still suffering from a bad dream. 

This was why the sleepovers had become such a necessity for the both of you. It seemed one of you was constantly taking turns taking care of the other as they woke up in another fit of terror, plagued by all of the traumatic things that had happened to you lately. 

Peter bit down on his lower lip, trying his best to fight back that wave of guilt that began to build up in his chest. He shoved the thoughts back as best he could, scooting a little closer to you and pulling your body into his arms, bringing one of his hands up to gently brush your hair out of your face. “It’s ok,” he whispered against your ear, trying to quietly wake you from whatever nightmare you were stuck in, “I’m right here, okay? I’m here, Y/N. You’re safe.” 

He continued to reassure you, his lips lightly brushing against you as he spoke, until eventually he felt your body begin to relax as you started to wake up. 

“What was it this time?” 

You were barely fully conscious, your hands quickly reaching to grab Peter’s arm as it was stroking your hair, bringing it to your waist and practically forcing him to hold onto you a little tighter. “Hey,” Pete spoke again, a comforting smile on his face as he squeezed you, “you’re safe. You know I’m not gonna let anything hurt you, Y/N.” 

“I know.” 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” 

That was the usual routine when this happened. You would usually both stay up talking about what had happened in the dream, the other one trying to find ways to ease the fear that it had caused until eventually the conversation would shift to something else entirely, putting them both at ease until you’d fall back asleep in each others arms. 

“You died.” 

The words fell out of your mouth so quick and so blunt that it caught him off guard. 

“Oh, cool.” He joked. “Nice to know that you’re killing me in your mind.” 

“I had to watch you die, Pete.” Y/N stated, clearly not in the mood to begin joking about it just yet. “It was terrible. You got hurt--like really hurt--and I couldn’t do anything to help you. I couldn’t save you. I just had to sit there and watch you die. And then that was it. I was just left there. All alone.” 

Dreams like that weren’t exactly unfamiliar to Peter. Actually, the majority of his nightmares revolved around not being able to save you. Watching you bleed out in his arms from a fight gone wrong or even dreams of you plummeting to your death, him being just a few seconds too slow. But this was the first time that you had ever talked about having a dream about him dying. 

And he knew why. 

You weren’t left with much after your mom died, a few friendships that just barely survived the stress of losing a parent and a father that you didn’t really have a relationship with. The only meaningful connection you had left was Peter, and he didn’t doubt that the six month anniversary of losing her was at least partially the cause for this dream of losing what little support you had left. 

“Well you can’t get rid of me that easy, Y/N.” Peter reassured her. 

You shook your head at his words, suddenly sitting up and lightly pushing his arm off your waist. “Really? Cause last I checked I was just patching you up from a stab wound a couple of hours ago.” 

It was hard to have much of a response to the statement, both of them knowing that you had made a good point even if it was a little bit unfair. Being Spider-Man came with its perk, but neither could deny the very, very obvious downsides. Both of you were always picking up the pieces of what him being Spider-Man had destroyed, and he couldn’t blame her for thinking it was just a matter of time until he jumped out of her window and didn’t come back. 

“You know that I’ll always do my best to come back to you. I’m not going to leave you alone.” 

“What if that’s not your choice Peter?” When you turned your head to face him it suddenly felt like a hole had been punched in his chest, seeing the tears that were welling up in your eyes. “I don’t know what the hell I would do if something happened to you. I’ve already lost so much. So much. And I really don’t think that I can survive losing you too! I just don’t want to have to keep worrying about whether or not you’re gonna be alive at the end of the day.” 

“I know.” He placed a hand on your back, rubbing small circles in an attempt to provide some comfort as the tears began streaming down your face. “But I can’t just stop. He means too much to people. Those people out there need Spider-Man.” 

“And I need Peter Parker.” 

As soon as the words left your lips you immediately felt guilty, knowing that you were putting him in an impossible position right now. Because as much as you hated to admit it, Peter was right. People needed Spider-Man. 

“I know that Spider-Man is a part of you that I can’t just erase, ok? I know that. But I hate watching you put on that suit everyday and throwing yourself right into danger every time you go. And I get it. I promise you that I get it! People need Spider-Man and they love him-” you hesitated for a moment, struggling to decide whether or not to continue, “but all I can think about anymore is that no matter how much I love Spider-Man I will always love Peter Parker more. And I can’t lose him.” 

You and Peter had exchanged those words before, several times actually, but only ever as friends. But right now you could both feel that they had finally grown into something different, something bigger. 

Peter adjusted himself so that he was sitting right beside you now, his hand coming up to rest on your cheek and force you to look at him. He knew that once again there was nothing that he could say that would ease any of your worries, nothing that would take away the risks that came with who he was and absolutely nothing that would assure assure you that he would always be by your side. But, the one that he knew for certain was that he was here right now. In front of the girl he had been stupidly in love with for longer than he could even remember. And he wasn’t planning on wasting another moment with you. 

You barely even had time to process what was happening before his lips came crashing down onto yours--urgent, like he had been waiting years for this very moment and couldn’t wait a second longer--but at the same time incredibly gentle. He kissed you in a way that felt like his life depended on it, his hands venturing along your back and grasping at the fabric of your shirt as though he would lose you if he didn’t hold on tight enough. 

When you finally broke away to take a breath he rested his forehead against yours. 

“I love you too.” 

#peter parker imagine #tasm peter parker #peter parker one shot #peter parker fluff #petter parker fluff imagines #peter parker smut #tasm imagine #tasm fanfiction #tasm peter x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagines #the amazing spiderman #the amazing spiderman imagines #spiderman imagines #spiderman one shot #spiderman fluff #spiderman smut #andrew garfield imagine #andrew garfield one shot #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n

[theparanormalperiodical]

Let’s Talk About Chick Flicks: The Past, The Present & The Problematic

Every woman keeps their first chick flick close to their heart.

No matter how tone-deaf, no matter how te-rr-ible, I will forever have a soft spot for Jennifer Garner doing the Thriller in 13 Going On 30.

One of the most notable scenes was magazine-editor-Madonna-megafan Jenna Rink exploring her walk-in wardrobe, stroking silks, satins and sequins in every colour.

And then there’s the shoes. The wall of shoes towering above our sample size protagonist.

You see, 13 Going On 30 is not only a darn good film, it’s also unique in the chick flick film industry: there’s no makeover scene. There’s no straightening of the *frizzy* hair, and there’s no ceremonial removal of the glasses. She simply wakes up in her swanky NYC apartment 17 years older and thousands of dollars richer, apparently.

But at the same time, the film’s all about transformation. We see a young teen wake up to the life she always dreamt of. She’s changed - she just can’t remember changing.

And that’s what all chick flicks inevitably come down to: change. It’s rooted in our perception of women, it’s engraved in the history of the genre. And it’s time we talked about it.

What Are Chick Flicks?

‘Chick flick’ is a term used to describe films that are aimed at young women. The term is synonymous with romantic-comedies, and often follows a woman struggling with personal drama and relationship woes, all the while trying to maintain a career.

The films typically follow a range of formulas, especially in their heyday - the 2000s. There’s the woman-living-in-the-big-city-gets-lured-back-to-her-hometown-at-Christmas, or there’s the unpopular-teenage-girl-gets-the-popular-guy. But for the more inventive plots, chick flicks tend to stick to the plight of several common characters:

The adorkable, clutzy and relatable girl

The manic pixie dream girl - the energetic, wacky chick to take the brooding guy outta his funk

The charming love interest - who turns out to be a complete a*rsehole

The complete a*rsehole - who changes his ways for the protagonist

The b*tchy, hot female rival

The career-driven, over-powerful and soulless biatch

So far, I’ve levelled quite a lot of criticism at chick flicks: that’s because that’s what dominates the conversation around them. They are picked apart, over-analysed and turned into trivial movies not worthy of more than two stars.

They’re all aimed at hysterical women looking to satisfy their period pain with hours of Hugh Grant so they must be trash! I disagree. A lot of people disagree. But while I think the dialogue around ‘chick flicks’ is laden with misogyny, I also whole-heartedly stand by their existence as cult classics.

And so, we come to a debate that has reared its head in recent years: should we still be using the term ‘chick flick’?

Is The Term ‘Chick Flick’ Problematic?

The term doesn’t discriminate. It’s been employed to mean just about any film that’s about, produced by, directed towards or marketed for women since the mid-90s, when the term first entered the English lexicon.

Although Breakfast at Tiffany’s was the first flag-in-the-ground for the niche, Sleepless in Seattle was the first film to nearly utter the words “chick flick”. Tom Hanks refers to An Affair To Remember as a “chick’s movie”, verifying that if it’s a film about love, it’s just for women.

It’s funny how these turns of phrase can mean so much more than you’d think. It’s a microaggression, saying something is “for women”, compacting the misogynistic attitudes we live and breathe. Compare that to the Yorkie (a British chocolate bar), a confectionary that relied on the slogan “it’s not for girls” to imply things for men are exclusive or elite.

On the topic of microaggressions, let’s talk about the term “chick”. Supposedly an alternative to the term “bird” (British slang for “woman”), it’s considered derogatory for its usage with objectifying adjectives. While my all-time-fave band have successfully adopted it ironically, the term implies a young, cute and innocent thing. A damn baby bird.

Netflix brought up the damn baby bird debate in a few years back in a Twitter thread, and brought a new point in the process: despite there being a similar term - i.e. “dick flicks” - there is no popular genre titled “films for men”. There’s chick flicks, and then there’s every other film ever made. Ya know, the good ones.

It detracts from the work put into these films, as if the women featuring in them, writing them and directing them can only produce trivial trash. We all know that simply isn’t true.

You have a right to watch what you wanna watch. As a woman, you’re capable of loving cheesy love stories and powerful plotlines, strong women and fragile people. You can watch a rom-com on a friday night after a week of hard work. You can be feminine and a fucking boss.

Yeah, I think that covered just about everything I wanted to say.

We Gotta Talk About Heteronormativity

If chick flicks are solely aimed at women, then why are all the films about heterosexual relationships? Some women want to have relationships with women. Some men want to have relationships with men.

So no, they’re not movies for chicks. They’re movies for *eeevvvverrrryonnnne*

A History Of The Chick Flick

I start this section with a sigh. A heavy sigh. A sigh weighed down by cringe.

Starting in the silent era and working its way through to the early Cold War, ‘woman’s films’ were a distinct genre that followed female narratives and were tuned into the female audience.

Joan Crawford and Bette Davis made their names in a genre associated with drama, love stories and comedy - sound familiar? Some film historians argue it took an oppositional approach to male-dominated genres of westerns and gangster films, and finally put women at the centre of the male universe.

Later criticisms of these films directly compare male and female films, and several core features have been drawn out of the latter including: they reaffirm that love is the only career a woman can take up, but they also provide a temporary liberation for them in rejecting the typical female role (whether in terms of sexuality or spending lotsa cash monay, for example).

Running alongside woman’s films was the film noir genre, peaking in the 1940s. It posed women as more of a sexual threat rather than putting them at the centre of a narrative. The stylish, expressionist crime dramas incorporated more women into films - but it introduced them mainly as femme fatales (mysterious women that ensnares lovers).

As we moved into the 1950s and five million women returned from work during the war, they had to balance more than just taking care of their families. Some husbands didn’t come back from the frontlines. Some women began to become more independent, stepping away from the expectation that they’d marry young and rear children.

A severe dichotomy between the mid-century housewife and the woman contending with new problems like romance, work, loneliness, divorce and widowhood paved the way for films like Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

They tackled darker, more serious issues. By the time the 80s ticks over, chick flicks found their feet as more defiant and upbeat, always riding the latest wave of feminism. New dramas aimed at teenagers like The Breakfast Club, Heathers and Sixteen Candles incorporated themes associated with youth like alienation, probably setting the scene for the clutzy, socially awkward woman we watch on Netflix today and opening the up to genre to all ages.

By the mid-90s, with films such as Sleepless in Seattle, rom-coms and chick flicks became synonymous with each other. But at the same time, Clueless challenged the entire notion of the female-narrative-love-story. Cher’s story featured both of these tropes, but was also about a strong, liberated woman. That little fling with her stepbrother was a subplot.

Cher, unfortunately, didn’t claim victory against the chick flick title. By the 2000s, any film that featured women - especially women and comedy - was designated a chick flick. And when you label a film in such a way, it’s immediately going to be classed as low-quality and not worthy of a watch.

Films like Bridesmaids get this treatment - and they really shouldn't.

We are presented with two options:

We celebrate chick flicks for all that they are - awesome and amazing and varied and brilliant, because women are all of those things.

We stop labeling all films about women ‘chick flicks’ and make sure women have their share of every genre.

What’s your favourite chick flick?

If you liked this post make sure you let me know by liking and reblogging it! And while you’re down there, make sure you hit follow to be updated with a new post every Saturday.

#chick flick #women in film #women #feminism #female filmmakers #representation #lgbt representation #lgbt #representation in film #chick flicks #13 going on 30 #mean girls #bridesmaids #breakfast at tiffany's #iconic women #women in fiction #chick lit

[itsnothingofinterest]

Something I think worth mentioning about villain redemptions is, in addition to people just liking the characters; one reason the villain fans want redemptions for the League is that their redemptions would almost certainly signify the addressing & remedy of serous systemic issues that have affected many characters and aspects of the series, and have been felt since the first line of the series.

It’s no secret that the world of HeroAca is plagued with systemic issues rooted in inequality, corruption, and the gross mishandling of quirks among other things. These have affected both villains like Shigaraki, Dabi, Toga, & Spinner, and hero students like Izuku, Shoto, Shinsou, & Shoji. However while the students’ character focus is, on average, about how to overcome these hurdles to become good heroes and what kind of heroes that makes them; the villains’ character focus is more on what to actually do about the systemic issues they were never able to just overcome, and so are attempting to tackle full force. In other words, the handling of the villains is seemingly going to be directly tied and inversely correlated to the handling of those systemic issues and, in turn, just how many problems are really going to be solved in the aftermath and not rear their heads again..

The Problems

It’s like this: people often like to compare BNHA to Avatar: The Last Airbender (probably because of Todoroki’s resemblance to Zuko, even though his position is more like a less Azula-ish Azula, but that’s beside the point), and have even made comparisons between Shigaraki & Dabi and Ozai. Now that’s more than a bit weird, but we’re gonna role with that to explain something.

See, the thing about Ozai is, he was in a position of power; a position from which he and the last 2 Fire Lords had effectively caused all of the problems. And the reason they did that was basically just because they were arrogant; they thought the Fire Nation was better than everywhere else. Meanwhile; the Gaang had Zuko, the next in line to the throne who had been enlightened by his travels about the values of the other nations & how wrong the Fire Nation’s way of doing things was. The Gaang new if they defeat Ozai & Azula, he gets that position of power and will cease all the problems arising from it. For them, that part of the plan was simple: defeat the big bad = no more problems.

For Shigaraki & the League, it’s no where near that easy. See, while they have acquired power in various forms; they’re really just average joes picked off the street. Naturally occurring misanthropes produced by societal failures like oppression, abuse, inequality, prejudice, corruption, and other such topics. Heck, Jin’s name means ‘humanity’; both as in compassion, but also as in a face in the crowd (or rather the entire crowd). And Shigaraki even once compared them all to maggots crawling out of the trash piles the heroes swept under the rug. And you aren’t gonna accomplish much just squashing the maggots; they’re just gonna keep coming faster & faster as the piles get bigger & bigger, and even without a League we’d just see more Kaminos, Fukuokas, Daikas, & Jakus. The thing they need to address is the trash piles, the issues in society, in order to actually stop the problems.

The Easy-Yet-Hard Solutions

“Well, okay,” you might say, “but can’t those societal problems get addressed and the villains still get killed or jailed for life, as are the consequence for their actions?” Well technically yes, that is possible, but the problem is it would be a very, very, very hard sell to the audience.

For one; not many on the heroes’ side see these things as problems. To most of them, the biggest problem in society is that it needs more All Might. Not to say there’s no one in the country who thinks society needs to change...but there is the slight hurdle that a good number of them joined the PLF, and are presumably headed off to Death Row for association with Shigaraki. (You may think that’s an extreme assumption, but Kurogiri got worse for very similar crimes.) This doesn’t exactly discount our heroes tackling all those root issues we discussed; but, well, it’s a bit hard to believe the heroes might try to change society in accordance with the wishes of people we assume they’ll just think of as enemies until the end. (Especially regarding the necessary changes that might inconvenience the heroes.)

What’s more, the villains most directly represent the victims of those issues, so it’s hard to separate their treatment from the handling of those issues. There’s just some dissonance in the idea he heroes would be like “In our pursuit of justice, we shall ensure no hero has the power to abuse their family any more, and shall hold heroes accountable for any breaches of the law they commit. But as a separate matter, screw Dabi. Life in prison for him and he’s (debatably) lucky we’re not killing him. Endeavor of course shall walk free because he’s trying to change, and he’s gone through so much, and he means so much to us.” Like I said, that’s a hard sell. It gives off the impression that the heroes are just doing what they’ve always been doing, which conflicts with the idea that they’re then going to change things.

The Hard-Yet-Easy Solutions

Conversely, if the villains get redeemed and end up working with the heroes; societal restructuring to remedy those systemic root causes of villainy are all but guaranteed. They know better than most what problems there are in society, seem to have thought pretty hard on how to fix them or what alternative systems could be installed, and have no reason to be coy about any of that. The heroes, conversely, tend to have the faith in humanity to think they can better the world without needing any acts of terrorism, and the societal sway to then actually do it. Or at least will acquire that sway, if we’re assuming the UA students are gonna end up doing most of the leg work on this.

In short, each side has about half of what’s really needed to guarantee a societal remedy that’ll ensure we don’t get any more naturally occurring Shigarakis, Dabis, & Togas; and in turn that we don’t end up right back where we are now eventually.

It’s not quite accurate to say they need to work together on this; both sides could accomplish this restructuring on their own. But with the heroes, it’s highly questionable if they’d even think to change things if they get the chance, and how how hard they’d really try if they did; and with the villains we know they’d put their all into it, but it would incur massive costs in human life. If the villains get redeemed though, and the two sides work together on this? It’s very easy to believe the presence of one side would entirely eliminate the issues in the other’s methods. The best solution is the one that comes from both sides working together; and that’s probably why Izuku & Shigaraki’s quirks each ended up being named after half the phrase “All for one and one for all”.

Conclusion

Look. I get it. The League are terrorists, there’s no getting around that, and at times it can feel like the villains fans ignore this. But that truth is that it’s more complicated than that.

Shigaraki’s inner circle are simultaneously some of the victims most in need of saving & some of the greatest threats the HeroAca-verse has ever faced. They are, in several ways, the greatest conflict a hero could ever face, and how a hero would handle them would define not only the type of hero they are but also the quality of hero they are. I’m just saying; a high quality hero that’d save them, the real Plus Ultra-type, would probably be the kind best suited to taking care of those metaphorical garbage piles and reach that “no more problems” state you usually want your stories to end in.

Does that really mean they need to get away with everything they’ve done? Honestly, got me buddy. Like I said, from a hero’s perspective, their situation is complicated; so if you’re looking for the perfect solution for how a hero should handle them, it’ll probably be pretty complicated in itself. To me personally, that stuff seems like details. What I’m most prioritizing is if we’ll get the best resolution to the root issues as possible.

#bnha #league of villains #lov #paranormal liberation front #PLF #shigaraki tomura #dabi #toga himiko #spinner #twice #jin bubaigawara #midoriya izuku #shoto todoroki #hitoshi shinsou #mezo shoji #class 1a #anti endeavor #hero society

[the-witches-you-couldnt-burn]

It started with a whisper

I originally wrote ‘Like I did with you’ as a one-shot but people wanted a sequel. This turned out to be waaaaay longer than expected (4.7k word count). Inspired by Everybody Talks by Neon Trees. I hope you lot enjoy!

Ao3

(Also this is Mari’s new outfit, all credits go to the original artist)

————

Two teens stood upon the balcony of a large banquet hall, exposed to the midsummer night air. The sky was a lilac blanket that hung over the Parisian buildings, speckled with glowing stars. The moon, with it’s crescent smile, beamed down of the young couple.

Hey, baby, won't you look my way?

Marinette’s eyes were closed as she rested her head upon his shoulder, relaxing after the night’s rapid escalation. Tonight she had arrived at the ball with the intent to be there for her friends, but somehow she found herself within the arms of Gotham’s (and probably Paris’) Ice Prince. She had overheard his nickname from the Gotham students, one of which being Jon, who was in the middle of mocking the young Wayne. She had never considered that nickname as suitable; sure he was temperamental & had a tendency to snap, but icey to the core? No.

I can be your new addiction

Damian was calm. For the first time in his life he felt like he could take a breath. His exhale was carried off by a small gust of wind, the bush over hanging the stone railing rustled. With his inhale, the scent of Marinette’s perfume became present once more. Mixed with the crisp night’s air, her usual scent of pastries was mixed with what could only be described as ambrosia. His phone vibrated within his pocket, it was never on volume due to the potential risk it caused during his heroic activities.

“Shit.” Notifications covered his screen, multiple tweets, Instagrams and Tiktoks in which he had been tagged in. But the alert came from his family’s private messaging chat. The whole thread was a shit storm, Grayson and Todd’s messages were completely capitalised (he learnt years ago this meant ‘to yell’ in writing form) and both had multiple ‘keyboard spasms’. Drake, like the thorough detective he is, had combed through the images and videos, investigating their validity. His honorary sisters had replied with ‘awwwww’(s) and ‘Omg we MUST meet this girl! I need to know how she tamed the demon!’. He could practically hear Brown’s shrill voice from across the ocean.

Hey, baby, what you gotta say?

No reply from his father or Alfred. The two of them were the only semblance of ‘normal’ paternal figures he had within his life, after the sham of a relationship he had previously held with his grandfather. Their silence unnerved him.

Marinette had noticed his attention had shifted to his phone, her own mobile was buzzing away within her baby pink purse. Messages, notifications of account tagging and comments galore. A sigh left her lips when she saw her parents seemed to be none the wiser. Good, she didn’t need to deal with future adoration for ‘The boy who swept our daughter off of her feet’ (or something along those lines).

Her cheeks regained some of the warmth they held before as she thought of her parent’s reaction. Scrolling through her Twitter she saw her friends had posted multiple images of the night’s events, majority being her shared dance.

Chloé Bourgeois @TheBestBourgeois

what kind of Disney shit is this? (Insert video of two teens dancing around an mostly empty dance floor.)

Alix Kubdel @Sk8trGirl

Replying to @TheBestBourgeois

I KNOW RIGHT?! THEY WERE FUCKING FLOATING!!!

All you're giving me is fiction

She was thankful that they hadn’t tagged her but she hadn’t been spared by others in attendance. Her post thread had blown up, thousands had commented and even more had viewed the evidence. There was no way she would come out of this unscathed.

“Has anyone been on Twitter today?” The blonde of the family asked as she walked into the dining room. Her eyes focused on her scrolling screen, brows furrowed in confusion. “Actually has anyone seen what’s happening on any of our socials?”

It was early in the afternoon and the family had recently returned home after a straining stakeout. The Joker had broken out of Arkham and the Batfam had to deal with his minions. Dick’s arm was in a sling (sprained from a grapple gone wrong), Jason was icing his hand, Alfred was stitching Bruce’s chest wounds while Tim and the girls escaped without severe injuries. All were still recuperating and finally able to recharge.

Alfred always enforced a strict ‘no devices at the dinner table’ rule; no matter how urgent it was, it could wait until after sustenance was consumed. Tim strongly opposed this, but there was no arguing with Agent A. This all surmises that probably no one had seen the crap storm on social media.

I'm a sorry sucker and this happens all the time

Bruce sighed, bringing his free arm up to rub his eyes. Tilting his head back to look at Steph, “Who was it this time?” Barbara quickly took out her phone to see what Stephanie was talking about, all the while glancing accusingly at Dick and Jason. Both of whom held up their arms (or in Dick’s case arm), declaring their innocence.

“It wasn’t fucking me!”

“Jason! Language!” Dick shot a glare at Jason and was met with one in return. “It wasn’t me either.”

“Then who-“ Bruce started before being cut off by his most rambunctious daughter.

I found out that everybody talks

Stephanie with a squeal, exclaimed that it was Damian. Visions of what the Wayne brat could have done flashed through the heads of everyone in the room. He had been sent overseas before the quarantines and lockdowns hit. During Damian’s first month in France he had been forced into online schooling and then finally when he got to go to in-person classes he hated it. Described the class as a kindergarten with petty and vindictive toddlers.

Had he broken someone’s arm? Was that person of such importance that it had spread over multiple social media platforms? France’s government had announced on June 15th, that teens were now being inoculated so him having COVID-19 was doubtful. Had he insulted the wrong person? Had he taken over the government? He certainly had the potential.

Everybody talks, everybody talks

What they saw stunned them, even Steph as she watched it for the 7th time. Damian Wayne was dancing. But not only that, he was dancing with a girl.

It started with a whisper

“What is this shit?”

No one verbally objected to Jason’s outburst but he was sent a harsh glare from Alfred, Dick and Bruce. Their focus soon returned to the images and videos before them. Babs’ and Steph’s phones were returned to them as the others ran to grab their own devices. They all met back at the table, comparing the posts and comparing their notes.

I can hear the chitchat

“There’s no way this can be real.”

“Jesus Tim,” Barbara rolls her eyes, “have you seen the amount of posts there are? You’d be an idiot to think otherwise.”

Take me to your love shack

“I’m with Tim, how do we know this isn’t some skit. I mean, Demon Spawn almost looks normal. That’s a matter of concern.” He almost dry heaved when he agreed with Tim. Damian couldn’t be capable of naturally exuding that amount of humanity unless there was something in it for him.

Mamas always gotta backtrack

“I was just saying Babs, that we should check the credibility of these images. For all we know they could be gorilla glued together and trying to get unstuck.” Tim cringed at his own reasoning, he really needed to either sleep (probably not going to happen anytime soon) or find his favourite coffee brand (which had been one of the first to vanish after the covid hoarders appeared).

When everybody talks back

Dick was too busy freaking out and spam messaging the youngest Wayne, to defend Damian’s humanity. The family saw this and followed suit, wanting to get information from the source.

Chat name: Alfred supremacy

BigBird: AHHHHHH DAMIAN!

BigBird: YOU LOOK SO CUTE!!!

BigBird: HAIFJDNDNFI

LittleWing: WTF HAPPENED DEMON SPAWN YOU LOOK ALMOST HUMAN

Babs: who knew the city of love would influence the brat

Blondie: they are so cuteeeeeee!

Blondie: We HAVE to meet her!

Silent-but-deadly: agreed.

Timbo: YO DEMON

Timbo: Apparently the videos are legit

Timbo: are you being blackmailed?

And it just devolved into more chaos from there, fueled by the fact that they saw Damian’s ‘Blood Son’ account appear online before vanishing once more. Dick shrieked, “I FOUND HER ACCOUNT!”

The family gathered around the eldest son, peering over his shoulder to view his iPhone 12max screen. They saw a young girl’s Instagram account. It was locked but they could see her profile pic, the girl had black hair and looked to be if Asian decent. They compared it to the videos but it was hard to see due to the hall’s lighting and the minimised facial features of the pfp. Alfred suggested that they search up her username and see who has tagged her, some might have other photos of her.

After research for awhile, the family began to get frustrated with lack of results.

Hey honey you could be my drug

You could be my new prescription

“Come on!” Jason complained, “What kind of teenage girl doesn’t post her life online?” He ignored the girls glares and went back to researching. How had the account by the name of ‘mariiiiinette’ to managed to prevent the entire Wayne clan from accessing it? Damn Instagram privacy settings. He groaned, dragging a hand down his face, “We are fucking stupid. Why don’t we just use the Bat-computer? It would be so much fucking easier.”

“It shouldn’t be used for civilian issues-“

Too much could be an overdose

“The girl could be a meta for all we know! We aren’t safe until we know who she is.” Jason points a finger at Tim, his paranoia flared up and even though he would never admit it, Jason would do anything to protect each member of his family (although Bruce is still debatable).

All this trash talk make me itching

Barbara and Tim took their usual positions as Oracle and Red Robin (who had been banned from patrol due to lack of sleep). The rest of the Batfam stood behind them either with arms crossed or still failing at researching.

Oh my my shit

“The account is owned by a girl called Marinette Dupian-Cheng. She is French-Chinese and her parents own a popular bakery. Also if it wasn’t already obvious, she goes to Collège Françoise Dupont, aka Damian’s French school.” Tim begun informing his nosy family, “But this account has been inactive for the past 6 months, which is strange due to her frequent posting schedule before hand. It seems she probably has a second account and this is her old one.”

Everybody talks, everybody talks

“Not only that,” Barbara interrupted. “There are unopened messages from other accounts that accuse her of being a bully. There is a whole Facebook page about this girl and how she has been hurting her old friends, but neither side seems reliable. The so called victims seem to be twisting the truth but there is barely any information about Marinette so we can’t disprove it either.”

“Read out some of the messages.” Bruce took a cup of coffee from Alfred and sipped it.

The main screen of the bat computer displayed a Facebook group with the banner picture being a photo of Marinette. “They are mostly complaints expected of teen girls when there is a girl they don’t like; ‘Marinette is such a know-it-all’, ‘She is constantly insulting Lila’s intelligence’. They go on to talk about how Marinette was briefly expelled from the Collège before being reinstated by the principle for a reason unknown to them.”

Everybody talks too much

“Her school reports up until this year were good. The newest one states, ‘While Marinette is a wonderful and bright student, I encourage her to settle her disagreements outside of class. This seems to only be a recent occurrence and I implore her to go to the guidance council if she is in need of help.’” A beat of silence echoes through the cave, Tim sighed. “Jason’s meta theory could be correct. She could have just recently started exhibiting her abilities and using them to get what she wants.”

“Bruce what do you want to do?”

“We’re going to Paris.”

She opened her eyes to the blaring morning light that streamed through the blinds. Her lashes still painted with mascara that refused to leave. She felt a pang of sorrow when she was removing her makeup and dress last night, she never wanted the night to end. She shuffled down the stairs to the kitchen, covering her mouth when she yawned. She greeted her mother as she entered the kitchen to get breakfast.

She glanced at her phone and there was the chaos that was started hours ago and it was still occurring. It was the weekend, she wouldn’t need to deal with her classmates until Monday. But she would still have to survive her parent’s interrogation. Out of the corner of her eye she caught her mother smirking at her.

Everybody talks

“Nadja told me some interesting news about last night.” Marinette held her breath, glaring at the toaster, willing it to hurry up so she could escape. “Well,” Sabine patted her shoulder before rubbing Mari’s back. “I know you didn’t want to go but I hope you had fun.”

With that she exited the kitchen, probably going to help her father in the bakery. The ravenette stared after her, eye widened in shock, jumping when the toaster went off. Buttering her toast she went over the conversation, her brows furrowed in confusion. She had expected a ‘When do I get to meet the oh so famous prince?’ or ‘Should I be expecting a new guest sometime in the near future?’ or at least a ‘Who was that young man, Bǎozàng (宝藏 it means treasure)?’ But she said nothing.

A small smile was plastered upon her face as she changed and went down to help her parents in the bakery. Her father didn’t say anything either, he gave her a knowing smile before continuing to kneed the dough. She sat at the the store front as the cashier whilst her parents were busy making ‘Paris’s Finest Pastries’.

Her musings slowly faded as she was brought back to reality by badly hushed whispers. Two young preteens were by the bread roll casing near the door. She had seen them come in before with their parents, the girls went to the prestigious international school over in the 16th arrondissement. The one with purple hair kept whispering to the brunette, both ‘subtly’ glancing towards her. Using her enhanced hearing she listened in on their conversation.

“That’s her, I swear that’s her in the video.”

The blonde’s face soured likes she sucked on a lemon. “No, it wasn’t good lighting there is no way he would dance with someone like her.”

Everybody talks

Marinette had tough skin but their words had an impact, only a small one due to her defence mechanism of repressing emotions. She stopped listening and went back to drawing in her sketchpad, she was in desperate need of a new school outfit.

The two girls eventually came up to the counter, goods in hand. Marinette rung up and bagged their items (paper because save the turtles sksksk) in a tired daze. A phone was shoved into her face, her eyes barely adjusted to view the screen before the blonde spoke.

“Is this your instagram?” She asked in a tone so snobbish that it should be illegal from a person her age. Marinette finally was able to view the screen that was barely an inch from her face. Her old Instagram ‘mariiiiinette’ was displayed on screen, she hesitantly nodded, gaze flicking back to the two in front of her.

The blonde’s nose scrunched up and the purple goth girl squealed in delight. They soon after left the store, their conversation had devolved into ‘See! I told you’ and ‘Yeah, yeah. You were right.’

Walking to school on Monday, she had finally come down from cloud nine. She still rode the tail end of her high as she rushed along her path to her campus, she wasn’t going to be late but she sure wasn’t going to be early. She had spent the better part of the weekend designing and sewing a brand new outfit. Her new look was composed of a black cropped singlet (L'amour gagne hemmed into it and it’s straps), paired matching peach plaid cropped overshirt and a-line miniskirt. Her hair was down, ballet flats were worn and her makeup was the usual with the added edition of a rose gold eyeshadow.

Even though her face was covered in a black and gold mask, she looked hot.

She reached the campus and the whispers started again, people were still buzzing from Friday night. Her classmates, the majority of her grade and the younger years seemed to gossiping before class about the formal’s events. She couldn’t spot any of her friends or the two Gotham transfers, so she was stuck listening the the chitchat. Why couldn’t she have been late like usual?

Damian had a fowl disposition and it showed in multiple icey glares (and that was before he even reached the collège). His family had made their appearance known in Paris at 1am Sunday morning. He could have used his dorm to escape but his family didn’t have the word ‘privacy’ within their vocabulary. He didn’t want to have to pay for a lock replacement due to his brothers’ (most likely Todd with Drake & Grayson laughing at him) lock picking habit.

The Ice Prince was back with full force. He had just been... influenced by all the other couples. Yes he did respect Dupain-Cheng and he appreciated her company & pleasant conversations. He would struggle to hide a small smile at the memory of the dance, even if he denied himself the happiness of normality, he felt content when reminiscing.

“Ooo the Ice Prince is here, did he have a fight with his princess or something?” The voice seemed to mock him.

“The Disney Magic is gone. The demon is back.”

Everybody talks

At the second jeer he shot a glare at the perpetrator. Jon held his hands up in an ‘I surrender manner’, laughing as he joined Damian at his side. The two entered the school’s large foyer and looked to see if any of the classes were open yet. Sadly they weren’t, before he was wrong and the his class was plain torture but this was truely hell.

He saw Dupain-Cheng sitting alone on the stairs, drawing within her sketchpad. He wondered how a girl like her, who always seemed to be involved in other’s lives (for the better) was ignoring all of the comments about her. She felt his focus centre on her, eyes flicking up to meet his, she provided him with a small wave before continuing to draw.

Jon nudged him with an elbow to his ribs and dragged him off to the side, into the boy’s locker rooms. Jon scowled at the door, “It’s a mad house out there. You’ve heard what some people are saying right?”

“Why would I care about these imbeciles?”

Jon jabbed Damian in the chest, causing the demon to stumble. Green eyes darted from blue eyes to the tan finger. “You care when lies hurt people you care about.”

The day began to rapidly decline once the two dance partners took their seats, next to each other. They had both been placed up the back of the class and them sitting together hadn’t been a problem until now apparently. She wasn’t even safe when the teacher started their lecture, whispers and glances were cast towards them. Once the two got to biology it was better, Ms Mendeleiev was a strict teacher and was able to control the class.

Everybody talks

But the recess came. When the bell rang she slowly started packing up her equipment, Alix and Max (who she shared biology with) waited for her; she watched as the Ice Prince left through the door. She knew she didn’t need to be concerned about her friends joining in with the gossiping, if anything they would dispel people and tell them to ‘Mind their own fucking business’ because this whole situations is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.

She did receive some slight teasing from Alix about being a Disney princess, but Marinette quipped back about the skater’s fairytale story being ‘Pinknette, the Geek and the Beast’. The three met up with the other two of their group, they had just come from geography. Kim was complaining that Argentina was a state in America.

“That’s Arkansas you idiot!” Chloe shrieked, lightly hitting his arm with her white handbag. Max held his head in his hand as he approached, how had his tutoring sessions failed so badly?

Chloe turned to Marinette, a smile forming from her glare. The blonde examined the designer’s clothing, nodding. “You look like you are about to have a hot girl summer.”

Marinette’s face burned, the tips of her ears coated in red. Alix chuckled and nudged her shoulder.

Everybody talks

“Look at her, she is so desperate for his attention that she probably copied those designs.”

“Why do you think he danced with her anyways? Maybe she has something on him? I mean, she forces him to sit next to her in class, who knows what else she has done.”

What. The. Fuck.

Chloe glowered towards Lila’s posy. “We have a fucking seating plan, those cretins-“ She made a motion to storm over but was caught by the ravenette, looking back to Mari, her rage decreased from a boil to a simmer.

“No Chlo. It’s fine, it’s not worth it.”

Everybody talks... back

The group walked out to the school’s front steps, it was a mad house... a mad courtyard? Students sitting on the stairs, on the grass and standing around mingling, all of them now were staring at her. She held her backpack close to her chest (she had swapped her signature coin-bag purse for the pastel pink bag), pretending its a shield. Her friends circled around her becoming an obstacle to prevent their stares. If people were afraid of a scowling Kim then they don’t know the scorn of Chloe or Alix’s bite. And Max, sweet quiet Max.... you better hope he doesn’t have blackmail on you (he probably does), he can dismantle your life with a single anonymous post.

Rushed footsteps approached them. The group was broken apart by a rude Wayne boy, he swept Mari away from the school and the gossip crowds within. Her four friends shouted at him and he kept walking, shooting a glare at them in response. He kept pushing Marinette forward with a hand placed on the small of her back, her backpack was now swung over his other shoulder.

They ended up in her favourite alcove. She had brought him here with the other Gotham transfers for a native’s tour of Paris. It had always been her safe place to be creative.

It started with a whisper (everybody talks, everybody talks)

“My apologises for our rushed departure but you seemed to want to get out of their anyhow.” His gruff tone danced through the silence, his head still peaking around the corner; watching for any unwelcome guests.

“Thank you.” She whispered, her voice almost being carried off by the gentle wind. A genuine smile illustrated upon her face.

“We weren’t able to converse after the events of the other night. I would like to formally apologise once more for my actions causing this adverse reaction. If I had kn-“

“You don’t need to apologise!” She squeaked, hiding her eyes behind her fisted hand. Her shoulders curled inwards as she tried to make herself seem as small as possible, a side effect of her common use of her secondary miraculous form: Multimouse.

“I chose to dance with you, you don’t need to apologise for my own actions.” He stared at her with confusion. He had taken the blame so she wouldn’t need to do so herself; but she had taken it anyways. He had given her an out. Why does she always take the blame, even for things out of her control?

“But if I hadn’t danced with you then you wouldn’t have been the focus of the entire school.”

Marinette stepped forward, her eyes hardened and blazing. “Damian Friday night I went there out of obligation to my friends, I didn’t want to be there. But dancing with you? That was the highlight of my week, probably my month too. I enjoyed our time together.” Her face softened, lips twitched downwards ever so slightly. “I don’t regret anything about that night, but do you?”

He was bad at comfort. Everyone in his family avoided him when they were in need, he plainly didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t visibly upset but he sensed that she is disappointed that he apparently didn’t share the same opinion of the night. The only thing he regretted about that night was letting Jon call him a coward, but then again if he didn’t he never would have danced with Dupa- Marinette.

He picked up her clenched hand, the tension in her body alleviated at his embrace. He remembered how Grayson would apologise to Kor’i or how his father interacted with Ms Kyle. He brought their hands up and placed a kiss upon her knuckles.

And that was when I kissed her (everybody talks, everybody talks)

“I do not regret anything either—“ he cleared his throat, “In fact, I’d appreciate if we would be able to interact more, especially outside of that cesspit.”

Was he...?

It didn’t matter.

She smiled the same dazzling smile she gave him at the dance. She nodded while laughing, “I’d love that.”

Everybody talks

The two stay talking, hidden within their secret alcove for the rest of the day. She texted her parents to say she was with a friend and would be back later that night. Damian didn’t bother texting his family, Marinette knew he had to be back soon due to his dorm’s curfew.

The sun was setting at they walked back together, he did the gentlemanly thing and dropped her off at her bakery door. She could see her mother behind the register inconspicuously looking over at the two of them. Damian’s lips quirked upwards, she was satisfied with his kinda-smile.

He walked back, hands in pockets and a neutral expression upon his face instead of a scowl. He reached his door and took his keys, he found that it was already open. Damn.

His family was splayed out within his two roomed dorm. Todd and Drake were fighting over a place to sit on his bed, whilst his father sat at his desk, watching the commotion. The three of them turned to him as he enter the room, they were the only family members able to attend on short notice; Cain had a ballet audition, Gordon & Brown had concert tickets for tomorrow, Grayson had to take care of Mar’i while Kor’i was on Tamaran and Alfred stayed to ensure no one died during their night time activities.

“We need to talk Damian.” His father stood, leaning onto the desk chair. “The school called and said you had an unexcused absence for half the day. Where were you Damian?”

Damian stared into his father’s eyes. He was fifteen, almost an adult, but was treated like he was ten again.

“I was with a friend.”

“Probably the girl from the dance. Marinette, right?” Todd mocked him. Damian snapped his head in the direction of his bed, glaring at both his brothers.

“That’s what I want to talk about with you Damian. Now I don’t know her personally but from what we’ve discovered through our investigation we have some concerns. What’s happened Damian?”

The youngest Wayne’s glare shifted off of his brothers to the floor, and then finally to his father; his family sitting in wait for his answer. Straightening his posture, his shoulders clicked as he rolled then back. His statement’s tone was sure and steady, “Everybody talks father.”

Everybody talks... back

#maribat #marinette x damian #mlb x dc #batfam salt #batfam is concerned #Daminette #the aftermath of ‘Like I did with you’ #everybody talks by neon trees #max kante has blackmail and will use it #Alix will bite if provoked #dc x mlb #damian wayne x marinette dupain cheng #Marinette Dupain-Cheng is a meta? #supportive Dupain-Cheng parents ❤️

[queer-as-used-by-tolkien]

THIS IS ADDRESSED TO "THE HATERS." This is to show you the point of view of the people who love certain characters beyond all reason, and why we get so mad when you trash them.

THIS IS ALSO ADDRESSED TO ANTI-"HATERS." This is an attempt to explain what I've learned about the other side of the debate, to soften the anger and potential misunderstanding. I will treat the "haters" kindly and with understanding.

Both of you, open your minds. I want to be understanding and nice, to hopefully bridge the communication gap so we can team up and help ArenaNet understand what they're doing wrong and how they can fix it, and make a more enjoyable game for us all. If you think what I have to say is good, feel free to quote me on this topic.

And give me feedback! Is this good? Should I crosspost to the forums and Reddit? Would it be understood there, or is is too long, dense, unrelatable, or poorly formatted? Does it have too long of an intro, is slow to start, boring, or uses strange terminology? Or am I just plain wrong? Even if you didn't read the whole thing, tell me that! Send a reply or a PM or an ask or a reply! (I said reply twice. It's easiest.)

Why We Don't Like it When You "Hate On" a Character (Feat. Trahearne, Braham, and a little Taimi)

There are several types of people in the Guild Wars 2 fandom: people who care about the intent behind Anet's portrayal of a character, relationship, or story arc, and believe in loose, permissive interpretations that can vary widely by person (I'll call these "interpreters"); then there are people who, rather than spending energy interpreting, believe in the story quests as solid, unchangeable canon, and, through this lens, place a great deal of importance on the narrative structure and the consistency in lore and character development (I'll call these "connoisseurs"); and lastly, people who don't think too deeply about the story, just experience it at surface level (I'll call these "gut feelers"). Interpreters to connoisseurs to gut feelers is a spectrum like the color wheel - you can be any mix of the three types (and maybe more?). I would like to note: all of the above are fans. They love and care about the game. These three types are simply different ways of experiencing, feeling, thinking about, and expressing their love for the game.

I believe most of us on Tumblr are interpreters with a smattering of connoisseurs (I personally am somewhere in between the two); what Tumblr has a distinct lack of are gut feelers, and they're the ones I want to talk about. When forming an opinion, the gut feelers are the ones who get confused between the character and the character's presentation - their dialogue, their character arc, all the little things right there in the instances - and call out the character rather than the specific flaw. They haven't thought about what exactly they don't like - they just slap a label and say "this is bad," rather like casual fic reviewers who can't be expected to say "you did the pacing wrong there, and that line was out of character, and that moment was confusing because X reason, and you really should have had X thing happen on-screen." The gut feelers don't think that way - they just want to enjoy the game. When asked to explain what's so bad about the character, they scramble around for an explanation; these may be things that symbolize the problem to them, or they may be based in the gut feeler's perception or expectations, or they may be actual flaws.

For example, Trahearne: as a person, he was nice, a little introverted, kind, knowledgeable, had a destiny thrust on him he never asked for - he didn't want to wield Caladbolg - trusted the Commander deeply, and he even needed the Commander's reassurance at times, and we kind of have to introduce him to a whole new world of leading and military and who knows what else, while at the same time he's introducing us to his world, and it's this mutual discovery together and it's beautiful and amazing. That's the intent an interpreter sees. But Anet butchered the presentation of it - Trahearne's model and AI can be buggy, there's far too much "tell" and not enough "show," the massive effort he puts out and the weight he pulls isn't on-screen, and etc. The gut feelers, in my experience, aren't going to go to the effort to figure out what's wrong, they'll just label the whole package "Trahearne" and say it's bad - and they hate the bad, they want it to go away, but they don't know it's the presentation and not Trahearne as a person, and it's ruining their experience of the game and they just want him to go away, leave us alone, just die.

And then S1 and S2 had minimal Trahearne (no "bad" VA) and we were making our own decisions (no one "in charge" of us) and we were on our initiative, with our handpicked allies, not in capacity as Pact Commander (no one taking the credit). ...And, Anet thinks, that solved most things! That should have worked, right? But no; that's what the gut feelers complained about, but they weren't the real problems. The gut feelers could tell, and they didn't stop pestering Anet about it; so the people at Anet threw up their hands and killed him and gave us Caladbolg for good measure, feeling humiliated and rejected, as if they had had not been "perceived" (which is what storytellers all secretly yearn for) with arguably the greatest, most intricate masterpiece of the PS. But Anet never addressed the real problem - they didn't know what it was. The interpreters were on the defensive, the connoisseurs didn't care or else fell on one side of the debate or the other, and there was no one to tell Anet what the problem was so they could give us Trahearne as they seemed to want him to be.

And you know? It's important to respect this pointing out of flaws. Anet wants feedback same as any small fic author. The interpreters should not say Trahearne's presentation is perfect, and, yes, we should also agree was a stupid, strange, even immersion-breaking move on the Commander's part to put him in charge when, at the time, we probably barely knew him and didn't know what he could do. Saying that is not the problem. These statements are true, even if Trahearne's defenders dislike admitting it. (And this goes for any character! Think of the hater/fan war over Taimi or Braham!) The real problem arises when these things are said with scorn or hate for the character or what the character represents - which, to us interpreters, indicates that the gut feelers don't really care about the intent behind his character. That sets us off a bit and then the conversation has ceased to be a reasonable discussion of Anet's flaws in storytelling and has instead become a heated argument about the flaws of a good character - flaws that were later used to give him an unjust, untimely death. There is a lot of history in this and that contributes to the heat of this passionate argument, this clashing of personalities and priorities.

Gut feelers - and connoisseurs - say that the presentation, or execution, is the only "correct" way to interpret the story. There is no other way, because that's Anet's final say. This feels wooden, but hear this perspective: presentation and execution, to a gut feeler, is what makes the character alive. Take a moment to think about this, interpreters. They, the gut feelers, the "haters" - they do care. The characters are - or should be - alive to them. There is common ground here. They want to see characters who are alive, and bad presentation or execution ruins that.

But interpreters see a division between this aliveness, what I call the "idea" or "intent" behind the character, and the presentation. We ask: what's the story Anet was trying to tell here? What's the backstory I may have missed in my first impression? What does the game tell me I should be feeling about this character, and why?

Why do we care? Because, as a player, as a Commander who has one race with one biography path and also with my invented quirks and personality, I'm a co-writer of the story with Anet. All the players are co-writers of the story - of your story... but you have to be willing to cooperate. Interpreters love this role. Gut feelers just want to experience another person's story while beating up the bad guys - but please take a moment and listen.

Anet decides the words that come out of my Commander's mouth, but what if I think my Commander wouldn't say it like that? And also, my Commander would see X interaction in a certain light, because she isn't a player, she doesn't have expectations of the advertised or MMO experience, she just wants to fight the dragons, live her life. I have to let myself be inside her head for the story to work - and if something in-game doesn't match her personality, I'll change it.

The Commander, as a character, is not experiencing a story that has good and bad execution. The Commander is living and they has to work with what they has to have a good life. They isn't thinking about narrative flaws. Joko dies unexpectedly? Well, that's a relief, I was about to get pummeled there. Trahearne's story isn't on-screen enough? Well, there is no screen to the Commander. The meta events in Orr? Trahearne directed that. Canonically, the Commander was his second during that. There were a ton of off-screen interactions that the Commander would have in their experience that the player would not. Interpreters know this - and think about it all the time.

Why? Because it's an RPG and people need to take certain aspects of the story into their own hands. Anet has dictated speech patterns and specific reactions for the Commander as a sort of skeleton for you to build off of, but it's up to you to explore the world and the characters and create a fulfilling experience for yourself. The gut feelers don't really do that and therefore it's really hard for interpreters to respect gut feelers' uninformed opinions. "You are not entitled to your opinion, only your informed opinion..." and these uninformed opinions have killed characters like Trahearne for no good reason, so not only can interpreters not respect it but we actively counter-hate it because - I loved the character, he was a best friend to me, and to my Commander. And that's aside from the narrative immediately surrounding his death. (People have already talked this point over and over again and it's not super relevant, so I won't expound here.)

Now we get to an important question: why am I focusing so much on Trahearne as an example? Or maybe you gut feelers are wondering, "yeah, that's great for Trahearne, but all the other characters are different" - and Trahearne is a long-debated, oft-argued, never-solved controversy, and maybe I could get more traction with a character there's fewer hurts over. And you're definitely thinking: "nobody else has died. Trahearne was an exception. But you interpreters still jump on us the moment we say anything negative about other characters!"

Here's the reason: Trahearne's death set a precedent. The hate Braham got in S3 was terrifying because this was right on the heels of Trahearne dying and nobody knew if Anet would rinse and repeat with Braham based on one instance. Ditto for "Taimi/asura ex machina" and all the other things people have found to pick on. Don't blame Taimi, blame Anet - because Taimi has no sense of "deus ex machina" when it comes to her world, her life, her friends, and her inventions. She's worried about fighting the threat, not whether she makes enough mistakes to seem plausibly fallible.

That is the key: gut feelers blame the character, for lack of something more specific to pin down as wrong. They want to give feedback so they point to the general location and say "over there is a problem and you need to get rid of it." And Anet, like they did to Trahearne, will get rid of the problem with the same lack of finesse, sending a lot of amazing, beautiful things down the drain along with it.

I want to stress that interpreters see the same problems. We hate the problems just as much. But we're fixers; we don't want to wait on Anet, or we've learned they won't help properly. (We hate the fix they gave Trahearne far more than we hate the way he was introduced.) So we'll write fanfiction and make headcanons and say "well my Commander experienced that in this way from that angle, so, no problem!"

Not everyone wants to do that - that's fine! There's also the problem that this is all fiction. Gut feelers get tired of the interpreters constantly going on about this problem that, to them, was solved a long time ago, because they've invested themselves in newer things. "It's not real, give it a break."

I once read something in the front page of a book: "don't try to figure out how this could be somehow based on real life, because to do so is an attack on the very idea that fictional stories can mean something." Fictional stories mean things to people, that's why they're written. Interpreters do remember they are fictional, but we also care deeply about them. They matter to us as more than an entertaining story.

A note to connoisseurs, who are an interesting mix of both types! You say "remember it's a story, it's not real." But I want to say, on behalf of the interpreters: "remember it's a story, remember to suspend disbelief and experience it like it's real."

I want to take a moment to say: I am not trying to force you to agree with me about Trahearne, Braham, Taimi, or anyone else. I am fine with you not liking the character. What I, and the interpreters, are not fine with is the half-formed, kind of intuitive, unarticulated negativity and hate from people who, from our perspective, aren't making any attempt to really understand. Trahearne's death set a precedent: that kind of hate kills amazing characters. Interpreters fear it. Interpreters hate it. Interpreters have learned to not just ignore it like would seem reasonable, because it killed Trahearne. Interpreters nowadays will attack the gut feelers right back, throw evidence in your face, and maybe it seems ungrounded and foolish and you just say in confusion: "that's not how I experienced it. That doesn't make any sense - why? I don't know, I just - his VA was bad, or (it felt like) he stole my credit, or he was a Mary Sue, or - or I'm the player, I should have been in charge, I should have been the Chosen One with the special sword." They don't know why they dislike Trahearne! There's a reason all these claims are laughable in the interpreter community, have been debunked half a million times and are scorned because they're old news - because to us, those claims make zero sense at all.

Also, there are far more gut feelers than interpreters or connoisseurs, because 'gut feeler' includes the hardcore endgame content people. Hardcore endgame content people are a completely different group from hardcore story people - they're the raiders, the WvW'ers, achievement hunters or legendary collectors. Some of them like the storyline, of course, but I'm talking about the ones who don't.

I said earlier all three types are fans? Well, this large chunk of the playerbase aren't really. (They're fans of other parts of the game, not the storyline). But they treat the storyline in a similar way to gut feelers, because they're not really into the story, so they just look and observe and don't think about it too hard. I mean, if you're not interested in putting out the effort to understand the story - go ahead. But interpreters think: "please, in that case, remain silent about things you don't understand." But you're gamers, that's not how you do things. You are experiencing the story and you do have opinions and you're entitled to have those opinions, even the uninformed ones, as long as they don't hurt anyone... but you're on Reddit and the forums trashing our friends because why not. Interpreters - or at least I, personally - I get that that's just what you do, you see no harm. But the interpreters - all of us - can't help but be angry at it. Your good fun can ruin the game for us.

And now we get to the part where I take a stand. Just because we understand you doesn't mean we won't be angry. We have no reason to not be angry at the gut feelers for their behavior. As much as you like your escape into video games from the real world, the story and characters are also our playground, our retreat, our escape from life. We feel strongly about this.

We are NOT upset at the opinion you hold! We're upset at the lack of thought that goes into that opinion that then actually affects the game. I mean, if people had unthoughtful opinions and Anet ignored them, we would too. It doesn't bother us what you think. But Anet took you seriously and we can't just hope they won't again, so we have to take you seriously, otherwise we're letting you walk all over us and effect the things that we care about.

Take Braham, for example: People complained a lot about Braham, ever since S3. They complained all through his redemption arc in S4, through the time he shielded the Commander from Kralkatorrik even though it's canon that guardians can die doing that - the gut feelers still complained through that, through IBS, and then he went and got himself corrupted and I - we were all terrified we were going to lose him too because of "haters" and there was nothing we could ever have done except yell back at the haters, show Anet we cared and that he was amazing, and maybe - maybe if enough people did that Anet wouldn't kill him. So yes, we need to be vocal. We need to stand up for what we care about because no one else will. That's why we take such offense when you casually say "oh yeah I'm glad Trahearne's gone" or when you grouch about Braham getting drunk in Bound by Blood - you are threatening. His. Life - and we won't stand for it.

But ArenaNet is more likely to listen to popular opinions that take root, where the gut feelers stop trying and just repeat the old arguments and believe them because it's easier - once that happens, Anet's more likely to listen to popular opinions than the constructive ones.

I want to explain one last thing: we're not against characters dying. Interpreters love a good tragic death for a noble cause. Take Blish! Man that was an amazing character, amazing arc, best death in the game, I felt it and it wasn't contrived for PR purposes and we had a moment with Gorrik after and it was for a good cause and - it was a well-done death. But, like in the case of Trahearne, when that "noble cause" is gut feelers inexpertly gesturing at a problem and a whole chunk of goodness falls out along with it - when it's just sloppy like that? When it can't even make good sense in canon because Mordremoth should have already been dead, and Anet couldn't be bothered to come up with a memorial of any sort for him until halfway through S3, when we just casually had to believe the Commander would kill their best friend like that - no. We're not willing to put up with that just so the gut feelers don't have to educate themselves or think about their own opinions.

And we can't just expect Anet to not listen to us. They need to keep an ear out so they can make money. And, hey, maybe they don't kill off characters for those reasons anymore - maybe they learned from Trahearne. They haven't killed Braham, in fact, they broke the lore to keep him alive. (Connoisseurs and maybe gut feelers are enraged about this, but interpreters might just roll with it.)

But the problem of the war between the interpreters and the gut feelers still exists, and it's not just characters - I know there was some talking about how there should really be an expansion after S4, and there was also massive complaining about how awful IBS was, and so maybe that's what motivated Anet to get the ball rolling with EoD, which killed IBS right out from under our feet - I liked IBS. It had strong potential. I don't want us to just ignore this rift in personality between interpreters and gut feelers, so please - let's work together to tell Anet what the problems are, not point and label and say "it's bad", and not get defensive about it in fear and anger and become unable to admit mistakes.

We need to unify, like the story has been teaching us for nine years. We need to work together, overcome our differences and focus on our similarities.

#trahearne #taimi #braham #blish #gorrik #mordremoth #heart of thorns #hot spoilers #ibs #ibs spoilers #icebrood saga #a star to guide us spoilers #finally posting this XD

[hockeyboysimagines]

Ashes and Wine

Warnings:Drinking, mentions of parties/alcohol, language, angst.

I’m so sorry this has taken so long. But I hope you enjoy this chapter.💕

This gif has nothing to do with this chapter. But look at this moron🤣🤣 I love him.

Leighton’s head was splitting when she woke up the next morning. She was vaguely aware that she was in her bedroom but she wasn’t quite sure how she got there and she still had all her clothing on. She sat up slowly, and looked around. The rest of the apartment was quiet, and he curtains were closed. Her shoes were by the bed, and the picture on her dresser was moved.

Then it hit her.

Her memory was foggy but she could see a hazy visual of Mat carrying her into the apartment. She had almost fallen and then almost kissed him.

Oh great.

She huffed and rubbed her forehead. She didn’t often drink, and when she did never that much. But being in Mat’s presence, and seeing the ring on Kaitlin’s finger had rattled her so much, she just got a little out of hand. It was stupid. She had said no. She had drank her weight in vodka. And she needed Tylenol and a drink. Ginny was sitting at the kitchen island eating cereal.

“Morning.” She watched as Leighton disappeared behind the fridge door looking for water.

“Stop staring at me Ginny.”

“The last time I saw you that trashed was at Brad Smith’s party senior year. You were so drunk…that was the night you-“ she said giggling.

“Okay okay. I remember.”

Ginny chuckled “Mat brought you home last night.” She said casually, chewing a spoonful of cereal.

“So?”

“So. Did something happen?”

“ No nothing happened. He’s engaged to…whatever her name is.”

“All I’m saying is I saw that look. It’s the same look he used to give you four years ago.”

“Look I am hungover and I am not in a good mood. He’s engaged and he brought me home last night because he just wants to be friends-“

The doorbell rang just them interrupting her speech. Ginny frowned and slid off her stool. When she opened it, Beau of all people was standing on the other side of the door holding a carrier with three large coffees in it.

“Morning boozy.” He said giving her a smile as he breezed past Ginny and set them on the island.

“Oh my god I think I’m in love with you.” Leighton took hers gratefully and sipped it, feeling better instantly.

“So….” He asked leaning on the counter “Did something happen last night?”

Ginny chuckled and shook her head blowing on her coffee through the hole.

“You guys are the worst. Nothing happened.”

“Doesn’t mean you didn’t want it to.”

She rolled her eyes “Can you two leave me alone.”

“No.” They said in unison.

********

“So how was the rest of your night last night?” Kaitlin asked over breakfast. Mat shrugged.

“It was fine. Leighton and Beau got along pretty well. She had a little too much to drink though.”

“Was she okay?” Kaitlin looked genuinely concerned.

“I think so. She’s just going through some stuff right now is all, with the move and adjusting.”

“You should help her Mat. I’m sure she would really appreciate it. There’s that team party thing on Friday, I’m leaving that morning for a few days. You should take her.”

If Mat hadn’t just set down his fork he would have dropped it. Kaitlin must really feel secure about their relationship if she was giving him an invitation to go hang out with his ex girlfriend. Was this a test? He felt he was in dangerous territory and no matter how he answered it wouldn’t be right.

“Oh Kaitlin. I don’t know.”

“We’ll think about it. I’m okay with it.”

They ate breakfast in relative silence until Kaitlin left him to shower and pack for her trip. Mat sat down in front of the tv, and absently flicked through the channels, not really watching what was on it. His mind started to rewind.

Music was blaring through Katie’s Miller’s house. While the rest of the guys on the team were yelling and carrying on about winning, mat and Leighton were out talking quietly. The ride to the house had been short, too short to have real conversation and he had been dying to get her alone since then. She looked so damn pretty leaning forward against the railing of the deck.

“You played good tonight.” She said smiling “Or at least I’m pretty sure you did. Right?” He laughed. It was kind of endearing and actually nice that she didn’t know anything about the sport. Sometimes he felt a tremendous amount of pressure to perform because of the promise of making it to the nhl. He didn’t have to be Mat Barzal NHL hopeful with her. He could just be Mat.

Before he could answer the party goers behind them started chanting and they turned to see Cody and some other guys assisting Ginny in doing a keg stand. Leighton rolled her eyes.

“She’s a real piece of work eh?”

“Eh? What is that a Canadian thing?” She teased. Mat blushed.

“I guess.”

“It’s cute. I like it.”

I like you. He thought to himself.

“So how did you and Ginny meet?”

“I sit next to her in English class. We were partners for a project.”

“I’m surprised someone else didn’t try to fight you for it. Boys break their necks just to talk to her.”

“So I’ve noticed. I don’t know….she’s cool, but I’m a little more interested in someone else.”

She quirked an eyebrow “Oh yeah? Who’s that?”

Feeling bold, both from the beer and from the high of victory, he smiled at her and shrugged “ There’s this cute little blonde she hangs out with that caught my eye in Math class. In fact. I’m pretty sure that I’m failing because I spend so much time looking at her.”

Leighton let out a small laugh and turned to him, hair spilling over her shoulders. She turned her head to the side and looked up at him through her eyelashes. Gosh they were long, and her eyes were so big and caught the light every time she blinked.

“I’m sure she probably thinks your pretty cute too.” She said quietly bringing him back down to earth.

“That’s really funny, because I’ve been thinking about kissing her.”

“Okay I’m ready to leave.” Mat jumped as Kaitlin set her suitcase down on the hardwood. She was smiling at him as she pulled her coat on and shook out her hair. He stood to kiss her and say goodbye. There was a cab waiting to take her to the airport.

“I love you.” She said wrapping her arms around his neck.

“I love you too. Have a safe trip.”

“Mmmm. Try not to have too much fun while I’m gone.”

“Never.” He said running his hands up her back “just gonna hang with Tito probably.”

He didn’t miss the look of distaste that crossed her face and it annoyed him a little bit. Kaitlin had this idea that Beau would break them up or something and he wasn’t really sure why.

“We’ll have fun at your team thing. Are you going to ask Leighton to come?”

“Oh I don’t know. Maybe.”

They chatted for a few more minutes before she kissed him one last time and walked out the door to the cab. He pulled his phone out, opening his contact list up and scrolling to Leighton’s phone number. He debated for several seconds before closing her contact and then opening it again.

Hey. It’s Mat. There’s a thing on Friday and Kaitlin is out of town. She suggested I ask you. I thought maybe we could do dinner or something beforehand? I’d really like to catch up.

She responded soon enough for him to be hopeful, but long enough for him to sweating out her response.

Sure. That sounds nice. What time?

*******

“So it’s a date?” Beau said nudging her several times. Ginny was sitting on her other side and let out a small chuckle. Beau had insisted on taking them to lunch, waiting around while they both showered and got ready. Leighton had a feeling that he not only wanted some gossip, but he was trying to gauge how much charm it would take to win Ginny over.

“It’s not a date. Just a dinner between old friends.” Leighton said sipping her water.

“Old friends who used to bang.”

Leighton nearly choked on her water and felt her cheeks get red. Sending Ginny a glare she stabbed at a piece of chicken with her fork.

She was looking forward to spending some time with him. Sober. But she was also painfully aware that it was strictly dinner between friends. Even though she wasn’t around, he did still have a fiancé. Even though Beau reminded her “She’s awful.” It didn’t change that she existed.

That didn’t stop her from pulling out all the stops though. She spent some extra time on her hair and makeup, and pulled on her favorite black sweater and dark jeans and boots.

Ginny was out somewhere, but had also been invited and would meet her there later. She hurried out of her apartment, and by the time she made it to the front of her building Mat was waiting there, leaning against his car. He looked up, and blinked at her for several seconds before he smiled.

“Hi. You look nice. Ready?”

She felt like she was going to throw up as he opened her door and guided her into the car with his hand on her lower back. While he drove them to wherever they were going, she really looked at him. He was so different yet the same. Same eyes and smile, but his hair was longer and the years in the NHL had given him extra muscle.

“Stop staring at me.” He said, giving her the side eye, but he was smiling.

She chuckled and looked out the window at the buildings “ So where are we going?”

“To dinner.”

“Okay but where?”

“In a restaurant? Where else would we be going?”

She rolled her eyes “Your so annoying.”

“You haven’t seen me in four years and your telling me I’m annoying? That’s hurts L.”

She felt a tiny pang at the nickname he used to call her, and he must have too because his smile faded a bit and he cleared his throat.

“Uhm anyway…So where is Kaitlin tonight?”

“Uhm. She’s on a work trip in Florida or something. She said I should ask you to come to this thing. If I didn’t Beau would have thrown a tantrum.”

She smiled “I like Beau. He’s funny.”

Mat knew she meant as a friend but he felt a tiny twinge of jealousy. He wanted to be the one making her laugh, not Beau.

“I’m really glad you guys get along. He and Kaitlin don’t always.”

Leighton pursed her lips “Yeah I’ve noticed. What’s that about?”

Mat shrugged “Honestly, I’m really not sure. They’ve just never gotten along. It’s not easy, I’m not gonna lie to you. I’ve never had to deal with it before.”

In high school, his friends and teammates loved Leighton, and loved them together. It had been easy and when Beau and Kaitlin ended up on bad terms, Mat didn’t know what to do.

“I’m sorry Mat. That must be tough.”

“It is. But enough about that.” He said parking the car and turning to her smiling “Lets go. I want to catch up with you tonight, and not talk about that.”

*********

“Did you break up with Kaitlin. My man!” Mat turned as Jordan slapped him jovially on the shoulder, big smile on his face.

“Did I what?no.”

His smile faded and he frowned, looking confused “Well then who’s that?” Mat sighed. Leighton had been friendly and charming to all his teammates she had met so far. Her big smile and soft eyes drew people in like a magnet.

“That’s Leighton.” A collective gasp went up around the table. Most of his teammates knew about Leighton in some form.

“Leighton as in the girl you asked to marry-“

“Yes Marty let’s just not go there.”

“Does Kaitlin know she’s here?”

Mat opened his mouth to answer, but Beau spoke first “Who cares?”

Jordan and Marty laughed, both shaking their heads.

“We’ll I have to say Barz this is one I like. I’m so happy you moved on from Kaitlin.” Sydney had now joined them, smiling widely at him, missing Marty shaking his head at her trying to catch her attention. Beau started laughing and Jordan was smirking as he watched Sydney furrow her eyebrows and look between them.

“What’s so funny?”

“He didn’t dump Kaitlin. That’s his ex girlfriend.” Marty mumbled in her ear. Her eyes widened and she chuckled awkwardly and gave him an apologetic look.

“Oh. I’m sorry I didn’t-“

“Do you guys really dislike her that much.” He looked around the table. They wouldn’t meet his eyes but they all shrugged.

“It’s not that she just isn’t- what we would expect.” Sydney said choosing her words carefully “This one.” She said jerking her head in Leighton’s direction “Is more someone I could see you with.”

“Plus she has a smoking hot friend.” Beau added in. Ginny had just arrived, greeting Leighton at the bar and ordering a drink. Sydney rolled her eyes.

Matt spent the rest of the evening not really listening to what anyone was saying. He could t believe how much his team and their wives and girlfriends disliked Kaitlin. The more he thought about things the more he realized he had been missing all the signs. Kaitlin rarely came to games and when she did she always brought a work friend and didn’t sit with the other girls. She never went to any WAG gatherings or out with them for dinner or drinks. And here was Leighton, someone who had been absent for 4 years, fitting seamlessly into the mix, laughing and joking with them over drinks. It didn’t add up and it was frustrating. It was even more frustrating when he found her leaned over the bar top talking with the bartender.

Tall, black hair, well built. She definitely had a type.

He cleared his throat as he approached, causing her to turn to him. It was almost 1 am, and he was mad and tired.

“ Hey, it’s getting late. Are you ready?” She turned and smiled at him but shook her head.

“Actually.” She glanced at the bartender “ I think I’m gonna stay.” The bartender was giving him a smug look. He had watched him give Leighton one too many once overs and flirty smiles, and he wanted nothing more than to punch the guy in the face for doing it, which didn’t make any sense.

She was his ex girlfriend. He had moved on, why couldn’t she? She was too good, too special to be thinking about going home with a bartender with bad tattoos and no real value for her. He couldn’t tell her not to, but he could try.

Mat reached for her hand pulling her to him “ He’s not good enough for you.” He whispered and turned walking through the crowd and put into the night air. Leighton stood mouth open watching him leave.

“So anyway I get off in-“ the bartender said leaning forward but Leighton had walked away from him, following Mat outside. Who did he think he was? He couldn’t say that to her. He was engaged, and here he was trying to make her feel bad about flirting with a guy she wasn’t even going to call again.

He was on his phone ordering an Uber when he heard the door bang open.

“Hey!” He spun to find Leighton standing on the steps hands balled into fists at her sides. She looked angry, her eyes were wide and her cheeks were flushed.

“Don’t say things like that to me!”

“Leighton I-“

“He’s not good enough for you? I don’t need you inside my head anymore. It’s not up to you to decide that for me. You have fiancé, you moved on. Why can’t I ?”

“I didn’t mean it that way, I just meant -“

“No! I don’t care how you meant it. It’s not fair to me and it’s not fair to kaitlin either!” She gave him one last glare before she stormed back inside.

He let his head fall back and huffed out a breath. He knew he was being stupid, and unfair to everyone including himself. He slipped into his Uber mind going a million miles a minute.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

********

“I’m ready to leave.” Ginny turned and found Leighton flushed and angry behind her.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m just ready to leave.”

“Okay.” Without a seconds hesitation she tossed her drink back, and paid her tab following Leighton out the front of the bar. As soon as the door shut Leighton exploded. She was talking so fast and so angrily Ginny could barely understand what she was saying but got the gist of it.

“And then he said ‘He’s not good enough for you’. What the hell does that even mean? He can’t say that to me!”

“Oh you two. I wish you could just both realize you still love each other and fix this whole mess.”

“I don’t love him.” Leighton said scoffing and folding her arms as they walked and argued.

“Oh my god, shut up L. Be honest about this for once in your life.”

“I’m done taking about this.” She snapped. They walked the rest of the way in silence each slamming their bedroom doors. They threw themselves into bed, stewing for a few moments before pulling out their phones. They both had multiple notifications, tagged posts and follow requests from various teammates and wives. Leighton liked them all, even making plans for shopping with a few and she and Ginny had been invited to dinner with others. She sighed and rolled over, tossing her phone aside, before she spoke out loud to the darkness.

“I hate you Mat Barzal.”

********

1,339 miles away Kaitlin washed her face and go ready for bed in her hotel room. She settled in and pulled her phone out as she turned the tv on and flicked the lamp off. She scrolled through Instagram and immediately noticed several groupings of photos from some of the other wags. She scrolled through a feeling of dread coming over her.

Leighton and Ginny were both in many of the photos, smiling and toasting with drinks like they had known them forever. They looked so natural, like it was where they belonged. All the wags had already followed both of them, commenting back and forth and arranging to get together. She got more annoyed as she scrolled but when she scrolled to the last picture she got angry.

Mat and Leighton were standing smiling at each other, a candid photo taken by Lauren Eberle. He was looking at Leighton like Kaitlin had always wanted him to look at her. She closed the app, and put the phone down, blinking away angry tears.

Things were going to change when she got back to Long Island.

#mat barzal #mat barzal fic #mat barzal imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey fandom #hockey writing #hockey tumblr #hockeyblr #hockey blurbs #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl blurb #nhl fic #new york islanders

[starshine583]

New Girl on the Block (23)

(Welp, y’all, this is it. This is the last, pre-written chapter that I have written. From here on out we’re gonna have to rely strictly on my writing consistency and... I’m so sorry for that lol Because CLEARLY, if we’re on the last pre-written chapter, after having posted, like, three over the last month, we know that this isn’t gonna be good. BUT! I do have THIS chapter to give you! So please enjoy! And don’t forget to check out the mini series connected to this called Journal Entries!)

Ch.1 / Ch.22 / Ch.24 (ao3)

Chapter 23: How the Cards Fall

Marinette stared in horror at her former classmates, violently kicking herself for being so reckless. How could she forget that this was one of Alya and Nino’s favorite food carts too? She used to eat there with them all the time! She should have known better than to pick this place! Actually, she shouldn’t have picked anywhere to eat at all! Going to a place she used to enjoy meant going to a place where she used to hang out with her old friends, which meant eventually running into them, which meant- well - this! Oh, how could she be so stupid?

Maybe it won’t be so bad, she reasoned with herself before she could start hyperventilating. Maybe they’ll just roll their eyes and leave instead of making a scene.

But Alya was never one to back down from a (accidental) challenge. As soon as she realized her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her, a scowl etched itself onto her lips, and she started stomping in Marinette’s direction.

“It is you!” The red-head scoffed. “Oh, when I get my hands on you-”

Marinette flinched back, officially throwing breathing out the window. She looked at her current classmates and wondered what they would do if she ran, what they would think. Would they follow her or would they stay and talk with Alya? What if they started asking questions that Marinette couldn’t answer? What if Alya answered the questions before she could? Would they believe her? Was she going to have to find a new school again? What if Lila’s lies followed her there too? What if she never escaped Lila’s claims?

Suddenly, not breathing turned into breathing too fast, but before she could spiral further than gasping, a shadow passed over her. 

It was Allan and Claude, coming to stand in front of her as a defense.

“Hey, woah!” Claude said, holding up his hands in a calming gesture. “Why don’t you back off a bit and tell us what’s got you so upset?”

A hand touched her shoulder lightly, and Marinette’s gaze snapped to Felix, who was now standing next to her. He met her eyes with a subtle raise of the eyebrows, and she knew what it meant. 

“Are you alright?”

Marinette drew in a deep breath to steady herself and nodded, even though her insides felt like they were turning outwards at this point. Felix must have seen through her fib because his hand stayed on her shoulder as he looked back at Alya. His eyebrows were furrowed, which could be from his concern, but Marinette also knew curiosity when she saw it. He wants to know who these people are, and why they’re angry with her. And after everything she’s told him about her old school, he might be able to figure it out.

Alya briefly paused at the boys’ blockade, before raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms. 

“So is this who you’re hiding behind now?” She asked, unimpressed. “Are these the new people you’ve managed to dupe?”

 Marinette tensed, and Felix’s grip tightened on her shoulder. Whether that was a sign of support or his disgruntlement, she wasn’t sure.

“Are we supposed to know what that means?” Allegra, who had also come to stand next to Marinette, drawled.

“No.” Alya said. “Not yet, anyway. This one likes to wait until you’re in pretty deep before springing her trap.”

Marinette bit her lip, indignation rising in her chest. She didn’t deserve this. She hasn’t done anything wrong!

“Alya, that’s enough-” She tried to say, but Alya cut her off.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” The red-head snapped. “You don’t get to have a say anymore, not unless you’re willing to admit what you’ve done, what you really are.”

“Alya, come on.” Nino, who finally decided to join the conversation, coaxed. “L-Let’s just go. It’s not worth fighting over.”

Marinette might have been grateful had he not backed down right after when Alya shot him a glare. 

“I’m going to assume you guys are her new classmates and friends.” Alya continued. “So let me tell you, as a former classmate and best friend, that this girl,” she pointed her finger accusingly at Marinette, “is a fraud.”

“That’s not true!” Marinette couldn’t help shouting.

Alya ignored her. “She makes herself look sweet and innocent by making you croissants or cookies and bringing you handmade gifts, but it’s all an act. All she really wants is the attention that the gifts bring, and when she doesn’t get it, she goes ballistic. I used to think she was the best thing in the world until a foreign exchange student came along and became more popular. Then she started stealing that person’s homework and ripping it up, or throwing her textbooks in the trash, or even tripping her down flights of stairs. One time we even caught her stealing personal items!”

“I didn’t do any of that!” Marinette insisted, more so to her friends than to Alya. “I told you she framed me!”

Alya scoffed. “You can’t even deny it anymore! Lila has all of the rude texts you’ve sent her, there were multiple witnesses to the tattered homework that was on your desk- myself included -and we all saw her take her family heirloom out of your locker.”

“That wasn’t a family heirloom! She literally bought that in a store two months before and then put it in my locker to frame me!”

Alya rolled her eyes and turned back to Claude and Allan. “Obviously, she’s going to make up whatever excuse she can to keep you from listening to me, but I advise you to dump her now while you can. She’ll make your life a living nightmare if she thinks you’re better than her somehow, though at this point,” Alya shot Marinette another scalding glare, “we all are.”

Tears burned in the corner of Marinette’s eyes, but before she could further argue her innocence, Claude spoke up.

“Ok, so what proof do you have of this?”

It was something she’d expected Felix to ask, honestly, and it left her staring at the brunette in shock. He was.. asking questions. The right questions. He wasn’t taking Alya’s words as gospel the way everyone else at Dupont had done with Lila’s words.

Alya frowned. “I already told you-”

“No, I don’t care about what you’ve said.” Claude interrupted. “You’re a stranger I just met, and Marinette is a good friend that I’ve known for a wonderful month and a half. I’m going to need more than your word.”

Alya narrowed her eyes at him, debating.

“Alright, fine. I’ll bring Lila here as a first hand account. She has the texts saved on her phone. As for the homework and such, those have already been replaced and done away with, but I do have the class president binder where several important forms are missing from Marinette burning them instead of giving them to Lila after leaving.”

Marinette had to bite her tongue to avoid laughing despite herself. Lila said that she burned some of the class papers? What would make her lie about something like that? Was it to get out of the work? Oh, boy, was that going to come back to bite her. She probably had to resign all of the ‘missing’ paperwork! Oh, this is the greatest thing Marinette’s ever heard. Hopefully, she said she lost a lot.

“Do you have the burnt papers?” Allan asked. 

“No, of course not-”

“So, let me see if I’ve got this right,” Allegra said, her voice edging on annoyance, “we’re supposed to believe the account of a foreign exchange student, who we also don’t know, and who, apparently, brought out the worst in Marinette by herself even though no one had ever done so before, and the only actual proof you have, other than that girl’s word, is a series of texts that can easily be altered and a binder with some missing pages that ‘Lila’ could have misplaced or even burned herself. Is that correct?”

Alya scoffed. “You’re making it sound ridiculous.”

“No, I’m repeating what you’ve said to us, which is ridiculous.”

“She’s done other things too!” Alya insisted. “Just the other day she met up with one of my other friends and tried to persuade them into her clutches again, even though she had already transferred schools. Look-”

Alya pulled out her phone, and for once, Marinette looked on with interest as well. Lila making up a lie like that meant someone had to be going against her now, right? So who was it? Did someone mention Marinette’s name in an argument, and now Lila’s latching onto that as an advantage?

After a minute of searching, Alya flipped her phone around for them to see her screen, and the picture displayed on it made Marinette’s stomach drop.

“Woah, is that Adrien Agreste?”

The group, aside from Felix, leaned forward to see the picture better, but Marinette found herself leaning back, the blood draining from her features. That was a picture of her and Adrien at the café last Friday, but- but how did- when could they have possibly-

“Where did you get that?” She blurted out before she could stop herself.

Alya fixed her with a smug grin. “Look familiar? Lila took this while you and Adrien were having lunch last week. I’d been wondering why he was asking her so many questions about her stories, but now it all makes sense. You’ve been secretly coaxing him to your side again, and poor Adrien couldn’t resist.  Even when I called him about the picture, he said he just wanted to be your friend again. I guess he always did see the best in everyone, though.”

Marinette felt sick to her stomach. How long was Lila with them in that café and Marinette didn’t even know it? How much did she overhear as Marinette blabbered on and on to Adrien about her current life? Did she know about Marinette attending Rosemary? Did she tell Alya about her attending Rosemary? How many people did she send that picture to?

She clutched for Felix’s hand on her shoulder, suddenly not trusting herself to stand, and he quickly put his other hand on top of hers. The comfort of his touch was appreciated, but not enough.

A burst of laughter cut into Marinette’s panic, and she turned to Claude who was all but rolling on the grass. He clutched his sides as he howled and even went as far as to wipe tears from his eyes. 

“Wait a minute, wait a minute..” the brunette wheezed. “So you’re telling me, that Adrien Agreste, the fashion icon and heart throb of Paris, was in your class, but Marinette only started acting out after the foreign exchange student showed up? No offense to you, Mari, but I’m pretty sure a rich, young model would have been way more popular. How come she didn’t sabotage him?”

Alya faltered for a moment, not quite expecting the question and certainly not the laughter. “W-Well- I mean- she did have a major crush on him. Maybe she didn’t care that he was more popular than her because she liked him so much.”

Marinette felt her cheeks heat up out of embarrassment, but thankfully, no one touched on that subject. Instead, Allegra hummed and said, “Okay, fine. Assuming that’s true, what made Lila so popular?”

“Plenty of things.” Alya stated matter-of-factly. “She’s helped Prince Ali organize several charities, made petitions to save endangered animal preserves, is best friends with Ladybug-”

Marinette didn’t resist her eye roll.

“-and even saved Jagged stone’s kitten!”

Marinette glanced at Claude, who immediately deadpanned a “what”. She knew that if anyone was going to pick up the last line, it would be him.

“Jagged Stone never owned a kitten.” Claude said. “He’s allergic.”

“It was before he knew he was allergic.”

“He’s still never owned a kitten!” Claude exclaimed with a flail of his arms. “He’s only ever owned a crocodile! That’s been said in multiple interviews!”

“But-”

“And if we want to bring up charities, Prince Ali doesn’t organize any charities. He only donates to them.” Allegra pointed out.

“I-”

“And petitions to protect endangered animal preserves?” Allan echoed. “Those don’t need protection. They are set in stone by law.”

“I’m sure-”

“Look, you’ve clearly been given false information.” Claude said, crossing his arms, “and because you were dumb enough to believe the real attention-seeker, you’ve lost an amazing friend. Now I suggest you leave us alone before I report you to the authorities for harassment.”

Alya’s face twisted with rage. “Harrass- you know what? Whatever. I’ve done my part. Don’t say I didn’t warn you when she starts ruining your life out of jealousy.”

Marinette caught a glimpse of Claude clenching his fists, and Allan put a hand on the brunette’s shoulder to steady him.

“We won’t. Have a nice day.”

Alya huffed and stormed off, dragging Nino with her. He glanced over his shoulder to give Marinette an apologetic look, but she didn’t meet his gaze. Instead she crossed her arms over her chest and blew out a sigh. That.. could have gone worse.. she supposed.

“Marinette.”

Marinette’s fingers dug into her skin, and she hesitantly looked up at Felix. His hand had loosened on her shoulder, and he was staring at her with an unreadable expression. What was he thinking right now? Was he angry? Disappointed? Confused about why she didn’t tell him about her lunch date with Adrien? She wished he would give her a clue of some kind.

“Are you alright?” He asked softly. “You’re shaking.”

Marinette blinked, pulling her hands away from her body. She was shaking? How did she not notice?

“Oh, and you look so pale!” Allegra cried, wrapping her arms around Marinette’s shoulders. “Should we take you home?”

Marinette grabbed Allegra’s arm and forced a small smile as she shook her head. “No, no, I’m.. I..”

She wanted to say that she was fine, that they could continue having lunch as usual, but a lump in her throat made it hard to get the words out. Next thing she knew, tears were spilling down her cheeks, and she was putting her hand over her mouth to choke down a sob. 

All this time.. All this time she’d been keeping her past a secret from them, scared that they might take Lila’s side like everyone else, yet here they were, holding her close and offering her hushed condolences. They were giving her the very support she’d been afraid of losing, and now she was ashamed that she’d ever been afraid at all. 

“I’m so sorry!” She nearly sobbed.

Allegra pulled her closer. “No, don’t say that! There’s nothing you need to be apologizing for!”

Claude and Allan rushed to wrap their arms around her as well, and Felix slid his hand down to rub her back. This, of course, only made her cry harder, because they were being so gentle with her, so kind. How could she have ever doubted them?

“Why don’t we go back to the house?” Claude suggested gently. “Mom and Dad won’t be back yet so we can give you a minute to recover.”

“And Felix makes the best honeysuckle tea.” Allegra adds. “It’ll cure any pain those idiots caused.”

Marinette sniffed and gave a little nod. People were starting to stare at them anyway, and at this point, she’d lost her appetite.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, whatever you need.” Allegra said as she led Marinette back to the car. 

Marinette took the handkerchief Felix offered her and dried some of her tears, then gave him a small, grateful smile. He hadn’t spoken much during the altercation, but the way he quietly hovered around her and held her hand when she needed it said enough, especially since she knew he didn’t appreciate being touched. 

It’s funny. Whenever she used to think about them finding out about Lila- because, surely, it would have to happen eventually -she always assumed she would feel anxious or paranoid afterwards. “What if they didn’t believe her? What if they constantly doubted her actions now? What if she constantly doubted their actions? Would they ever be able to trust each other fully again?” But as she got into the limo and sat down, and everyone crowded around her to show their love and support over the awful things Lila had said, all Marinette felt was safe.

~~~~~~

Felix leaned his back against the peppered countertop and crossed his arms, his finger tapping against his bicep with impatience. The iron tea kettle sat on the stove next to him, slowly heating and steeping the honeysuckle tea that he’d been requested to make. Usually, it took no time at all for the kettle to whistle, but today, it felt like he’d been standing there for an eternity. 

He glanced at the digital clock on the microwave to see how long he’d been waiting, and the numbers 12:45 blinked across it. 

12:45pm.. That meant he’d been in the kitchen for about.. 

Two minutes. 

Felix sighed and ran a hand through his hair, his gaze sliding to the kitchen doorway. Marinette was sitting in the living room with the others just outside of it, with her and Allegra on one three-cushioned-couch, and Claude and Allan on the other one across from them. She seemed to be having a decent time, chatting and laughing with everyone, but that didn’t ease Felix’s mind any, not after what he saw in the park.

He’ll admit to being curious when the fight first started. Rosemary is known for its hair-pulling, arm-biting brawls, but they’re also known to remain dignified despite them. For example, the brawls are almost always private, which is why, when someone called out to Marinette in such a harsh and open manner, Felix couldn’t help being intrigued.

When he saw how Marinette reacted, however, his stance on the situation dramatically changed.

In the month and a half that he’s known her, Marinette has faced down high-class celebrities, an overwhelming amount of clothing requests from Claude, and an actual akuma, and not once has Felix seen her so much as flinch. Not until today, that is, when that red-head somehow shook her to her core. Just the sight of her sent Marinette into hysterics, crying, shaking, her face becoming white as a sheet- he’s quite certain she almost hyperventilated at some point too. This strong girl that he’d grown to admire, that he was starting to believe could face anything unscathed, had crumbled to pieces in mere seconds, and it honestly frightened him. He wasn’t sure what to do or how to help. So he simply grabbed her shoulder, hoping she would understand what he was trying to say- that he was there for her, and was she alright? 

She understood him, thankfully, and her shoulders started to loosen a bit under his gaze.

But then that red-head started talking.

She spat out the most ridiculous accusations Felix had ever heard, accusations stating that Marinette was a liar and a fake, that she only ever did things for attention. Even if the part about wanting attention was true- which it wasn’t -why would it matter? She does incredible things simply because people ask her to. Why shouldn’t she get any attention for it? 

As annoying as the last claim was, though, it wasn’t nearly as infuriating as the rest of the things that girl said. She told them she was Marinette’s former best friend, yet she cast the ravenette aside at the drop of a hat simply because an exchange student with a rusted silver tongue told her to do so. Honestly, who would be dumb enough to believe that some foreign student was best friends with one of the Parisian superheroes? Or that a highschooler actually got to organize charity events? The most she would be able to do at her age was greet people as they walked inside. 

Felix wasn’t even going to think about the Jagged Stone claim, since Claude already made it quite clear that that was another lie, but really, who goes into a new school spreading the most impossibly grand lies they can? More importantly, how did those lies manage to stick? Was everyone at Dupont a complete moron?

No.. No, that wasn’t it. No one was that stupid, surely. They all probably wanted to believe Lila. That’s why they pounced on Marinette the way they did. They were looking for an excuse to go after her the entire time. 

Felix clenched his fist and turned to the kettle again, watching the steam rise from the spout. It’s no wonder she became so worried when saw Adrien Agreste at Rosemary. After her crush on him and the lies, Felix wouldn’t want to see his former classmates either.

...Speaking of Agreste, what was that picture about? Felix doubted Marinette was trying to ‘persuade him to her side’ as that red-head had said, but her reaction to it was extremely strong nonetheless. Why were they in a café together? It sounded like she met up with him only last week, but she’d told Felix a couple weeks ago that she didn’t want to see him. Why would she put herself through that? And why did she grip his hand so hard when she saw the picture?

The shrill whistle of the tea kettle broke into his thoughts, and Felix jumped to move it off of the burner. Once it was set aside properly, he turned the stove off and began setting out the mugs to fill them. They weren’t as delicate or pristine as the tea sets his father owned, but they would do nicely for the time being. Besides, if Marinette had a one-of-a-kind glass teacup, she might fret about breaking it instead of enjoying the tea.

Felix filled the mugs and put them on a tray, along with some sugars, milk, and honey, then picked up the tray to bring it into the living room. A round of delighted cheers filled the room as he entered, and Claude eagerly bounced up from the couch to grab his mug. Felix moved the tray out of his reach, though, not wanting to offset the balance and spill everything.

“Sorry it took so long.” Felix said as he set the tray on the table. “The tea is fresh so I brought in ice cubes to cool it off if you want them. If not, make sure to blow on it before drinking or you’ll burn your tongue.”

“Yeah, yeah, we know the drill.” Claude remarked as he reached for his mug again.

Felix rolled his eyes. “That was for Marinette’s benefit, not yours.”

“I’m sure Mari knows how to drink hot tea.” Claude retorted.

“But I appreciate the advice anyway.” Marinette spoke up with a smile.

Felix glanced at her as he handed her a pink mug, trying not to look at the puffed up red spots under her eyes. Her tears had long since disappeared, but the remnants of them still remained, including the trails on her cheeks that the tears had run down.

“You’re going to love this, Marinette.” Allegra chirped, thankfully taking the girl’s focus. “This tea literally tastes like honey. I doubt you’ll even need any sugar!”

“Yeah, but I’m gonna.” Claude smirked, already shoveling a spoonful of sugar into his tea. “Unsweet tea was never my style.”

“I swear you are gonna die from diabetes one day.” Allan muttered while taking a sip of his tea. 

“And it will totally be worth it.” Claude replied.

Marinette and the others laughed, which helped Felix relax a tad as he sat next to Allan. If Marinette was laughing again, maybe that meant she was feeling better.

The ravenette’s lips hovered over the mug for a solid minute as she blew on the pale, celadon liquid, and when she finally decided to take a drink, Felix found himself staring. Did she like it? Was it too strong? Should he go make something else for her?

“Oh, this is amazing!” Marinette gasped, her eyes lighting up.

Felix smiled, relieved. “I’m glad you think so. I like to add a few drops of honey and a sprinkle of sugar every now and then because it brings out the flavor, but that’s just a personal preference.”

“The tea is incredible already, but I’ll try your style anyway.” She said, reaching for the sugar. Claude pushed it towards her, while Allegra gave her the honey, and once Marinette dumped the extra ingredients into her mug, she took a spoon from a tray to stir them.

She took another sip of the tea, and this time, she sank into the couch with a contented sigh.

“Wow. That is so good, especially with how warm it is! I feel like I’ve just been wrapped up in the most comfortable blanket ever.”

The trio shared a laugh, and Marinette sat up with another giggle herself, but to Felix’s disappointment, the smiles didn’t last. 

Marinette set her mug on her lap and let out a sigh, a bashful smile replacing her giddy one. She kept her gaze on her cup as she said, “So, I guess… I should explain myself?”

The group exchanged glances, and Allegra frowned.

“What’s there to explain?” Allan was the first to ask.

Marinette looked up. “Well- Y-You know.. The reasons why Alya was so angry with me. How everything happened at my old school.”

“Again, what’s there to explain?” Claude said. “It’s obvious what happened. This ‘Lila’ person spread rumors about you around the school, and for some reason, your classmates were dumb enough to believe it. End of story.”

For once, Felix agreed with him.

“.. Not quite.” Marinette admitted, causing Felix to furrow his eyebrows. How much more to the story could there possibly be? Don’t tell him it got worse.

“I’d like to tell my side of the story, if you guys don’t mind.”

Allegra offered her a reassuring smile. “Of course not, but you don’t have to tell us anything if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah.” Allan agreed. “Your word is all we need.”

A grateful smile caught the corners of Marinette’s lips. “Thank you, but I want to do this. I’ll feel a lot better once you guys know the full truth.”

“Then we’re all ears.” Felix said, sincerely.

Marinette’s smile widened slightly as she glanced at him, but her expression fell serious again when she began her story.

“It started almost two years ago. The September before last, a girl named Lila joined our school- er -my old school, Dupont. She came in telling all of these different stories about meeting celebrities and arranging charity events or music concerts and being ‘best friends’ with Ladybug.” 

The sheer disgust in her voice when she mentioned being best friends with Ladybug made Felix smirk, but he let her continue.

“With stories as crazy as that, I couldn’t believe that my fr- uh.. That my classmates were actually believing her. In one day, she had them following her around like dogs and carrying her stuff because she claimed to have hurt her wrist in an accident. I forget which excuse she used, but it ticked me off to no end. So I tried to tell everyone that she was lying.”

“It.. didn’t end well, unfortunately. She turned into an akuma and went on a rampage, and after Ladybug and Chat Noir fixed everything, she only gained more sympathy from everybody. That’s when the stories about me started.”

“Every time I tried to expose her, she would make up some elaborate lie that made me the bad guy, and everyone swallowed it hook, line, and sinker. I tried to tell the teachers about what was happening, and some of them helped keep us separated during class time. But other than that, I was kind of just.. left to handle it by myself.”

Felix held back a scoff. Typical. Teachers never bothered entering student squabbles if they thought it wasn’t law-suit worthy.

“Of course, since the teachers weren’t doing anything, the lies only got worse, and soon, Lila started lying about me unprovoked. She would say I stole her things or ripped up her homework or tripped her down the stairs. I almost got expelled over it twice.”

“Wait, seriously?” Claude said before Felix could actually scoff. “So you told the teacher that this ‘Lila’ was spreading lies around the school, but they still tried to expel you over the things she said?”

Marinette nodded. “They would have to if she hadn’t come back and made up some lies about having been mistaken. I’m still not sure why she did that.”

Felix shook his head, absolutely incredulous to what he was hearing. It appeared the students weren’t the only morons in that school. How has it stayed funded for this long?

“Maybe it was a power play.” Allan muttered with a frown. “She sounds like the type of person who would do that.”

Marinette shrugged. “Yeah, I guess she is.”

“Didn’t anyone believe you?” Allegra asked.

A wince overcame the ravenette’s features, and Felix reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t wait to hear what she had to say about that question.

“Yes, someone did,” Marinette admitted, “but he wasn’t very helpful, to be honest. Actually, he tried to get me to stop going against Lila in case she got akumatized again. His reasoning was that her lies would eventually be found out on their own, but.. as you know.. They never were.”

Claude scoffed and put a hand to his chest, seeming to be offended by the very notion. “Are you for real? He just wanted you to let it go?”

“Did he even say anything while you were in the process of being expelled?” Allan asked.

Marinette’s face said plenty, but she answered aloud anyway. “No, not that I know of. He never liked getting in the middle of confrontations.”

Now it was Felix’s turn to scoff. He tipped his drink up to his lips, downing half the mug to avoid interrupting her story further. Felix scoffed, taking a sip of his tea to avoid interrupting her story further. Did no one want to stand up for Marinette? Did no one in that forsaken school have any sense of loyalty or gratitude? That dumb redhead at the park even admitted that Marinette had done numerous things for them as favors. How can they look at themselves in the mirror each morning when they treat people so horribly?

“So what happened after you almost got expelled?” Allegra prompted.

“Well, if you’re asking me what changed, then nothing, really.” Marinette replied. “Lila continued to lie, and I continued to take the fall for it, except now people were actually doing things to me. Before, they only talked about me behind my back or glared at me from the front, but after another one of Lila’s crying fits, they started ripping up my homework, stealing my things. I guess they thought they were playing the act of karma when they did it.”

“And I assume that guy who believed you stayed quiet the whole time?” Claude asked bitterly.

Marinette shrugged. “Basically. He tried to speak up on my behalf a few times, but he was always shut down too fast for it to matter.”

“Eventually, it got so bad that everyone started tripping me too, or running into me on purpose in the hallway. The last straw was when someone tripped down the front steps of the school, and I almost stumbled into a passing car. I was lucky I didn’t get hit.”

Felix’s grip tightened on his cup, and he thanked whatever was watching over her that day while simultaneously cursing the idiots she’d been forced to interact with. Did they even realize what they were doing? Or did they simply not care about almost murdering another classmate?

“Oh my gosh.” Allegra gasped, putting a hand to her mouth.

“That’s insane.” Allan said.

“Were they even sorry?!” Claude demanded, outraged. “Did they even look ashamed when you almost got hit?”

Marinette took another drink of her tea and shook her head. “No. My Maman tried to talk to the school about it, but since nothing actually happened besides me getting pushed, they could only offer her detention slips or suspension.”

She paused to look up at Felix, surprising him.

“That’s why I decided to transfer to Rosemary.” She said, and in that moment, it felt as though everything she had ever told him clicked into place. The reason the akuma attacks all seemed minor to her, why she never mentioned her old school, her becoming pale when Agreste first came around to Rosemary- it all made sense now, like he’d taken a million separate puzzle pieces and connected them to form a single picture. 

Felix thought he would be pleased, that he would feel triumphant upon solving this brain teaser known as Marinette, but he didn’t feel pleased at all. Instead he felt.. Sympathy. And fury. This girl was not some puzzle for him to mess around with. She was a person, a friend, his friend, and to hear her be treated in such a way made his blood boil.

“We’re glad you did.” Allegra commented.

“Yeah, you’re clearly much better off here.” Claude agreed. “Those jerks don’t know what they lost.”

“So you guys aren’t.. Ya know.. mad at me or anything?”

“Mad at you?” Allan frowned. “Why would we be mad at you?” 

“Well,” Marinette thumbed her mug for a moment, “I did kind of keep this a secret from all of you on purpose. I just didn’t want to drag my old problems to my new school. That and.. I didn’t want to risk you not believing me.. I’m sorry I didn’t have more faith in you guys.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” Allegra said. “You went through something terrible. We don’t blame you for not wanting to bring it up again.”

“Besides, you transferred schools to escape from the rumors, right?” It only makes sense that you wouldn’t tell us about them when you got here.” Allan pointed out.

Felix nodded in agreement, and Marinette let out a sigh of relief.

“That’s good to hear. Thanks for hearing me out.”

“Of course.” Claude smiled. “You’re our friend, Marinette. A few dumb rumors would never drive us away. If it did, we wouldn’t even be friends with each other by now.”

Marinette gave him a curious look. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, we’ve all been lied about at some point.” The brunette stated nonchalantly. “I mean, we go to Rosemary, a school filled to the brim with rich, talented, and extremely spoiled kids who have nothing better to do than gossip about each other. I get accused of cheating at least once a semester. Allegra had rumors about her bribing the dance teacher when she was chosen for a leading role one year, and Felix has been rumored to actually not be rich at all.”

Felix rolled his eyes, but an incredulous laugh left Marinette’s lips. 

“What?”

Allan snorted. “Oh, that one was pretty funny. Some people still think he actually lives in the school.”

“Seriously? Why?”

“Cause he wouldn’t invite people over to his house.” Allegra said with a wry smile. “And he practically wears the same outfit everyday.

Marinette hummed, looking Felix up and down. “They make a good point.. Felix, is there something you’d like to confess to?”

Felix gave a playful scoff, and the group laughed at his reaction.

“See?” Claude asked. “Your rumors were definitely worse than ours, but we’re not inexperienced. People will always try to bring you down in the lamest way possible.”

Marinette chuckled. “Yeah.. I guess they will. Thanks, guys.”

“Anytime.” Allegra smiled, pulling Marinette into a small hug.

“We’re always here for you.” Allan added sincerely.

Marinette smiled as well. “I know.”

“And if any of those jerks come around you again, you just let us know,” Claude said, punching his fist into his palm, “especially if it’s that guy who tried to tell you to ‘ignore’ Lila.”

A nervous laugh came from Marinette, and she reached up to mess with her pigtails as she said, “I appreciate that.”

Felix, satisfied with how the conversation ended, tilted his cup up to his lips, only to realize it was empty. He pulled his cup down and scanned the table, noting that Allegra and Claude’s cups were empty as well.

“Why don’t I get us some more tea?” He offered, moving to grab the tray.

“Oh!” Marinette perked up, quickly downing the rest of her tea in one gulp. “I’ll come too.”

Felix blinked. “Uh.. that’s not necessary. I can carry it all in one sitting. If you’d rather sit-”

“No, it’s alright.” She said, standing up to take Claude’s cup from him. “I want to stretch my legs anyway.”

The trio exchanged glances again, but Felix was too busy eyeing Marinette to notice. ‘Stretch her legs’? She’s only been sitting for- what? Thirty minutes? Forty-five? How restless could her legs be?

“We’ll wait in here.” Allegra remarked, referring to herself and the other boys.

Felix nodded and picked up the tray, not bothering to argue with Marinette. If she wanted to walk with him into the kitchen, she certainly had the right to do so. And who knows? Maybe she wanted a moment to herself and didn’t know how to tell them.

They strode into the kitchen together, and Felix set the tray on the counter while Marinette handed him her mugs. 

“Thank you for helping me. You know you didn’t need to.” He said as he refilled the mugs. 

“I know,” Marinette said, leaning against the counter while she waited, “but I actually wanted to speak with you privately, so this works for me.”

Felix raised a questioning eyebrow at her. She wanted to speak with him privately? 

“What did you need?”

Marinette glanced up at him, then seemed to think better of it as her gaze flicked back down to the ground. “I wanted to apologize to you too.. You remember last week when you asked me if something was wrong and I told you I didn’t want to talk about it? Well, the reason I was upset was because Adrien came to the bakery that day and begged me to speak with him. I didn’t really feel comfortable with it, but I felt guilty not giving him a second chance when he seemed so sorry about how he’d acted with Lila. So I agreed to have lunch with him after the Valentine’s Day party, which was where I ran off to while you guys were cleaning up. I guess Lila took a picture of us there, and I didn’t realize it..”

Felix frowned. Her reasons for visiting Agreste again were troubling to hear, but..

“Why do you need to apologize to me?”

Marinette’s gaze snapped to his again, her eyes wide with surprise. “Because I didn’t tell you. I knew after everything you’d heard about him that you wouldn’t want me going to see him, but instead of hearing your opinion, I just didn’t say anything. I should have talked to you about it. Maybe then Lila wouldn’t have found me and taken the picture..”

Felix stared at her for a moment, astounded by her logic. She thought she had to ask him before going to see Adrien? Sure, Felix would have advised against it immediately, but that didn’t mean she had to ask his permission.

“Marinette, you don’t owe me anything.” He told her. “Your life is your life. If you want to go have lunch with Adrien Agreste, that’s your decision. And while I would have advised against it, I still would have supported your decision nonetheless. I am your friend, not your boss or guardian. Do you understand?”

Marinette nodded, a grateful smile crossing her lips. He was happy to see it.

“More importantly, you don’t owe Agreste anything either. Just because he finally wisened up to his mistakes doesn’t mean you have to give him a second chance, especially if you don’t feel comfortable doing so.” 

Felix paused, thinking over what he’d just said.

“Although, I am curious.. What did he apologize for? He wasn’t one of the people who assaulted you, was he?”

“Oh, no, no.” Marinette hastily answered. “He, uhm.. He was actually the one who didn’t believe Lila.”

Felix tensed, using all of his self-discipline to avoid screaming ‘Are you kidding me?!’. Because really, out of all the people that had to convince Marinette to let Lila go, why did it have to be him? Actually, now that he thought about it, of course it was him! Who else would Marinette have been willing to listen to? Who else would have had the gall, the audacity, to act as though enabling a spoiled brat was some noble sacrifice? Wow, that guy just managed to keep climbing up the ranks on Felix’s ‘most hated’ list, didn’t he?

“I see.” Felix managed to mumble. “Are you going to tell the others?”

Marinette bit her lip, which was most likely a ‘no’.

“Not yet-” bingo “-I don’t want him getting a bad reputation. He did apologize, after all.”

Felix drew in a deep breath, letting the frustration towards that answer melt out of him. This was Marinette’s decision. She has trusted him with it, and he is going to respect it, no matter how much he hates it. That’s why he simply heaved a heavy sigh and put a hand on her shoulder as he said, “Marinette, you are truly too kind for this world.”

A blush bloomed across her cheeks, and she let out a small laugh. “O-Oh.. thanks.”

Felix turned back to the tray and picked it up, offering her a polite smile as he did. He didn’t agree with her method of handling things, but he did trust her to know what she was doing. Marinette was Marinette, after all, and she was much more capable than he was in most areas. If she thought this was the best way to go, he wouldn’t dispute it.

“So,” he began as he gestured for her to start moving towards the living room, “if I just put sugar in Claude’s mug instead of tea, do you think he would know the difference?”

Marinette snorted. “Oh~, that’s a tough one. Maybe we should test it to find out.”

“Alright, but you have to give him the cup. If I do, he’ll assume I’ve poisoned it.”

Marinette giggled and walked into the living room, and Felix followed behind her with a smile. He knew he couldn’t march up to the Agreste mansion and rip Adrien apart like he preferred- he probably couldn’t get any revenge on him whatsoever -but Felix would be darned if he just let this go the way Marinette wanted him to. Actions such as this needed to be punished, not forgiven and forgotten because of some half-hearted apology. If she wanted to toss the whole ordeal over her shoulder, that was fine, but Felix was going to hold a grudge against Dupont that was strong enough for the both of them.

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(Devotion: Alright guys! We’ve talked about the message of God’s wonderful salvation- which you should totally go back and read if you haven’t accepted Christ as your savior. It’s extremely important. -we’ve talked about how the Bible says people will react to the word of God, which has been proven to be true time and again; We have talked about Hell and why it exists; and in the last message, we talked about God’s compassion and faithfulness to His people. The last devotion wasn’t exactly in line with the others as far as the salvation theme, but today’s devotion will be! We’re going to talk about Jesus Christ and what exactly He went through on the cross to become the perfect sacrifice for our sins. This one’s probably going to be a bit long, and it is going to be gruesome. So what I’m going to do is bolden the main points of what He went through, then I’m going to describe them in detail. That way, people who can’t stomach gore or painful descriptions can still see a semblance of what He did, and people who can stomach it will get to understand the full extent of which Jesus loves us. Alright? Everyone got it? Great! Let’s get going then!

We start in the garden of Gethsemane. Jesus comes here only a few hours or less before He is arrested to be tried for crucifixion. He knows He is about to be arrested; He knows that this is the only way to save us from our sins, but that doesn’t stop Him from crying out to God and begging Him for a last way out. He says, “O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt”, and the Bible says that He was under so much stress during this prayer, He actually began sweating drops of blood. Blood! More so, the Bible also tells us that Jesus had to have an actual angel fly down and keep His heart from rupturing, lest He die prematurely. That means that Jesus was so stressed He almost died before He could even be crucified! Jesus was scared! He was terrified of going through with what God was asking of Him, and wouldn’t we all be! Nobody likes pain, and Jesus was about to go through one of the greatest pains we could ever face. Not only that, there were going to be a few other add-ons to the physical pain He was about to receive. 

See, Jesus is supposed to be the perfect lamb, the perfect sacrifice to atone for all of our sins, but to do that, Jesus not only needs to be punished for the sins we have committed, He also has to become the thing He’s being punished for. You cannot punish something that is innocent. It would be unjust. Jesus is aware of this, and that’s another reason He’s as stressed as He is in this moment of prayer. Although Jesus is manifested in human form at the moment, He is still very much God and part of the Holy Trinity, and as such, He still hates sin with a burning passion. He is disgusted by the very thought of it, the very idea. So imagine His dismay when He figures out that He has to become sin! That it has to be woven and meshed into His entire being! That would be like, for me, looking at all of the disgusting food water that’s in the sink before doing dishes and having to bathe myself in it without soap. (even bathing in it with soap would be bad, but you know) And for you guys! Think of the most disgusting thing on earth and then imagine being drench in it! Having it smeared on your skin and shoved in your mouth and caked all over your body- That’s what becoming our sin was going to be like for Jesus, and He hated every bit of it!...

But He loved us. So He went on with it anyway, the pain of crucifixion and the atrocity of becoming all of the sins of the world at once.

As soon as He was done with prayer, Judas- one of the former twelve disciples -betrayed Jesus and handed Him over to the chief priests as well as a crowd of people and soldiers. Jesus went willingly with them and did not fight. In fact, when Peter- another one of the twelve -leapt forward to protect Him by cutting off one of the High Priest’s ears, Jesus actually rebuked him and proceeded to put the High Priest’s ear back on his head. He was healing one of the very people who were about to kill Him! And the disciples were so confused and so panicked by this mob and Jesus’ “strange” behavior, that they all fled. Every single one of them. (This was done to fulfill scripture, so we shouldn’t judge them too harshly, but it is extremely sad for Jesus’ case.)

So the High Priests take Jesus away to Caiaphas, another High priest, and they put Him on trial. The High Priests and Elders tried to put false witnesses up on the stand, but none of their stories were adding up. They couldn’t share the same details that the other was, and almost no two stories were the same. Therefore, the High Priests got frustrated and started taunting Jesus directly, saying, “Answerest thou nothing? What is it which these witness against thee?” But Jesus refused to say anything. He just sat there, silent. This angered the High Priest, so he finally just yelled at Him- or at least, I imagine he yelled -and said, “I adjure thee by the name of the living God, that thou tell us whether thou be the Christ, the Son of God.” And here, we have one of the instances that Jesus openly admits, plain and blunt, that He is the Christ. He tells the High Priest that He is the Son of God, and that after this, He will be sitting on the right hand of power, and coming in the clouds of Heaven.

The High Priest rents his clothes (which means to tear them. It used to be a sign of grieving) and says that Jesus has committed blasphemy, and unfortunately, the rest of the council agree and sentence Him to death. This is where the beginning of the crucifixion process begins. They still had to get a governor’s approval for the death sentence, but that didn’t stop them from taking Jesus and blindfolding Him and beating him while He was blindfolded. They would laugh and spit in His face during this and taunt Him, saying “Prophesy unto us, though Christ, who is he that smote thee?” It was an incredibly humiliating experience for our Lord to go through, but it was about to get much much worse.

The next morning, they take Jesus to Pontius Pilate, a governor, and demand that Jesus be crucified. Pilate, I would assume, reviews the case, because we see him ask Jesus if He is the King of the Jews a few verses later. Jesus simply answers with a “thou sayest” then refuses to speak again for the rest of the time. Despite that, though, Pilate knew the people were only delivering Jesus there because they were jealous of Him. So he gave the angry mob a choice: “Whom will ye that I release unto you? Barabbas, or Jesus which is called Christ?”

so understand this choice, it is important to know that there was a certain feast going on at that time, and at the feast, Pontius likes to release a prisoner of the people’s choice. Barabbas was a current prisoner, known for being a murderer and a thief, and I’m sure Pilate was hoping that by presenting a very unjust man compared to Jesus for release, the people would concede and choose Jesus to release. That’s not what happened, though. The people were so angry and so swayed by the High Priest’s influence that they decided to let the thief and murderer loose, as opposed to a completely innocent man. Pontius Pilate is flabbergasted and asks them, “What shall I do then with Jesus which is called Christ?”

The response was.. unanimous.

“Let him be crucified.”

“Why? What evil hath he done?” Pilate persisted, but the people only cried out louder for Jesus to be crucified. So Pilate, seeing that he couldn’t change their minds, washed his hands in a bowl of water and said, “I am innocent of the blood of this just person: see ye to it.”

Thus, Jesus was sent off to be Scourged, the first part of the crucifixion process. Scourging is a devious, calculated type of torture that uses a cat of nine tails to rip the flesh off of its victims. A cat of nine tails is basically a leather handle that has nine different whips attached to the same end, and on the end of those whips were hooks created from shattered glass or twisted metal or any other kind of sharp thing you can think of. The romans would throw the whip across their victim’s skin, and the jagged pieces laced into the whip would latch onto the skin. Then, the Romans would yank across the whip, causing the jagged pieces to tear through the flesh. The pain that would come from that is excruciating, and during this scourging, Jesus was stripped of his garments and whipped with a cat of nine tails thirty nine times. To put that in perspective, it takes 40 times of being whipped with that thing to be killed. This means that Jesus was whipped to the point of near death. His skin is in tatters. There is blood all over his skin. His teeth have probably cracked from having to grit them so much, and Jesus is in pain. He’s in so much pain already.

But it’s not over yet.

The next thing the Romans decide to do is place a purple garment around him, and weave a crowd of thorns together. These aren’t just regular thorns, either. These thorns are about two inches long and pointed, and by the time the Romans got a thick circle of thorns together, I’d imagine you could hardly hold it in your hands without getting hurt. They took those thorns and pushed all 70 or so of them into Jesus’ skull. THEN they grabbed a rod and beat the thorns into His head!! The thorns punctured Jesus’ head so deeply, that the thorns actually touched his skull, curved from hitting it, then poked back out of His skin somewhere else. The way the Romans put this crown on His head, Jesus physically couldn’t take it off. And after all of that, the Romans bowed down in front of Jesus and mocked Him again, saying, “Hail! King of the Jews!” and beat Him with their bare hands, even though they had already whipped Him to the point of near death.

Pilate took Jesus to the Jews and again begged them to reconsider and let Jesus go, but the Jews refused to do so. They screamed for Jesus’ death all the more, so Pilate reluctantly gave it to them. This leads us to the beginning of the end, when they make Jesus carry His own cross. Part of the crucifixion was having the crucified carry their own cross to Golgotha, or Skull. It was kind of like an extra burden and humiliation attempt, and it worked well. Think of it like a murderer being forced to make his own death shot and give it to the nurses who were going to insert it in him. Jesus had to walk through the city, or at least on some sort of road, where crowds of people were lined up on both sides, all of them cheering for His death, and He had to do this while He could barely stand up straight. The Bible tells us that, because of His injuries, Jesus actually didn’t get to carry His cross all the way to Golgotha. He collapsed somewhere along the way, and a man named Simon had to help Him carry it the rest of the way, but sadly, they did get it there. 

Once Jesus and the cross were on the mount, the Romans laid the cross down, laid Jesus on the cross, and used these huge nails to nail Jesus’ hands and feet to the cross. This was done through careful puncture wounds between the wrist bones and foot bones. It kept Jesus in place, while aggravating his nerves to make his feet and hands go crazy with pain. The Romans then raised the cross up for all to see, and for the next six hours Jesus hung on that cross. Something to note about this is that Jesus’ cross was not smooth. It had splinters and jagged edges all over the place, and the way the nails were pierced into His feet and hands caused Him caused His lungs to push heavily on His diaphragm. Because of this, breathing became a bit of a problem. His lungs could take in air, but He couldn’t breathe out. To do that, He would have to pull up on the nails in His wrists and push up on the nails in His feet and exhale. Pushing up, though, would cause Him to push His scraped, slashed, and bruised back against the splinters or possibly even into them. And let me remind you: He hung on that cross for six hours. Six. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you would do a lot of breathing in six hours.

And yet, despite all of that pain and suffering, the worst was still yet to come.

Jesus said seven different phrases while on the cross. Seven times He pulled Himself up on the cross, enduring extreme forms of agony, to speak with us. Would you like to know the first thing He said?

“Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.”

Jesus asked God to have mercy on us and forgive us. We’ve rejected Him and cursed His name time and time again, we’ve insisted on turning to Him with malice and hatred, and now we’ve put Him through some of the worst, most excruciating pain imaginable.. But He asked God to forgive us anyway. This, Jesus’ incredible love and mercy and grace towards us, is the baseline of Christianity. His love is what keeps this world turning on its very axis, and it’s why we have no qualms shouting His name to the rooftops. His name deserves to be shouted and praised after all of the things He went through just to allow us to be with Him and talk with Him.

The second phrase He said was to a thief who was hanging on the cross with Him. In the Bible, we are told that Jesus wasn’t the only one being crucified that night. Two thieves were also being crucified along with Him, and they were placed on the mount to His left and to His right. The thief on the right was spitting on Him and mocking Him as well, but the thief on the left rebuked the first thief, saying, “Dost not thou fear God, seeing thou art in the same condemnation? And we indeed justly; for we receive the due reward of our deeds: but this man hath done nothing amiss.” And the second thief turned to Jesus and added, “Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom.”

This is when Jesus speaks the second time, as He, I imagine, turns to the thief as best He can to reply, “Verily I say unto thee, To day shalt thou be with me in paradise.” This conversation right here is a wonderful example of salvation and how simple it truly is. This thief was dying. He’d lived a bad life full of mischief and wickedness, and he had no way of making that right. But because he believed that Jesus was the Son of God, he was still able to go to Heaven. Salvation isn’t about works or what we can try to give back to Christ (although, we should try to give back to Christ as much as we can after being saved), it’s about the free gift that Jesus gave us. Heaven and Salvation is a gift. All we have to do is accept it.

The third phrase Jesus says is to John, one of the disciples, and Mary, Jesus’ mother. The Bible says that Jesus sees them before He speaks, so I imagine they are near the cross and weeping. Again, He drags Himself up on the splintered cross, draws in a pain-staking breath, and utters, “Women, behold thy son!” to Mary, and to John He says, “Behold thy mother!”. So He was making sure that His mother was going to be taken care of before He passed away.

Around this time, as Jesus was hanging on the cross, the earth fell into total darkness. I’m talking the sky was black. And as soon as this happened, Jesus cried out into the sky, saying his fourth comment on the cross.

“Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?” or “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”

This.. is where we see the second add-on that made Jesus so terribly stressed during His prayer in the garden of Gethsemane. He is taking on the sins of the world. One can only imagine how many sins that would be, and in this moment, Jesus is taking every single one of them and forcing them into a single person, a single place to look upon. There was so much sin in Jesus at the very hour, that God had to do what He’s never done before in history and turn His back on a human being. 

There are times when God’s grace leaves us, when His mercy runs out and we are instead faced with His judgement, but despite that judgement, God is still present in our lives and in the world around us. No matter how alone we’ve felt in the world, God has always been there next to us without us knowing. But not here. Here, God is actively turning His back on Jesus. He is completely forsaking Jesus because of the amount of sin that has poured into Jesus’ heart and soul as part of the sacrifice. That absence of God is something we are never going to know (unless you don’t get saved and go to hell, I suppose) but I can only imagine how empty it must be. How crushingly lonely it must feel, to know that now, Jesus truly is all alone in this world. The very God, the other part of Himself, that He’s been with since the beginning is now just.. Gone. That, I believe, was the worst part of this entire crucifixion for Jesus. He can face the physical pain; He can face the disgustingness of sin; He can face the humiliation of being God but also being mocked and treated like a life form lower than dirt because He knew He wasn’t facing any of that alone. He knew God was right by His side.

But now He wasn’t. 

And Jesus was still there on the cross.

We see in the Bible that the darkness lasted for a full three hours, meaning Jesus has to go at least three more hours without God’s presence and comfort and light. In these last few hours, though, Jesus says three more phrases. His fifth phrase is, “I thirst.”

Another part of the Roman crucifixion costume was to get a sponge and soak it in vinegar mixed with gall. The combination created an extremely bitter taste that would supposedly distract the crucified from their pain every now and then, if only for a moment. So when Jesus said, “I thirst”, the Romans quickly got a sponge or even a cup ready and gave Him a sip of it. After He drank the cup, Jesus cried with a loud voice and said His final two phrases. Now in Luke and John, the last phrase that Jesus says is different when compared to each other, but the phrases are both so unique that I believe Jesus said both of them, one right after the other, and John and Luke simply wrote down different halves. So I’m going to write the last two phrases together.

“Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit. It is finished.”

After this phrase, Jesus gives up the ghost, or in other words, allowed Himself to die. This is another crucial point of Christianity because it shows Jesus’ power over life and death itself. He isn’t killed by blood loss or exhaustion or by a heart attack or anything like that. He simply dies because He wanted to at that moment. I think that’s kind of comforting actually. A God as powerful and loving as Jesus, who can control His own life and death as well as everyone else’s and was willing to give up His own life for us when we didn’t deserve it or even ask, is a God I most definitely want to serve.

Unfortunately, though, death was not quite the end of Jesus’ sacrifice. Not many people know this (or, at least, I didn’t know it for a long while), but after Jesus’ death, He went to hell for three straight days. Yes, you read that correctly. Actual Hell. If He’s going to take our punishment, He needs to take all of it, right? So don’t think God is just dishing out the punishments, but not taking any for Himself. He doesn’t need any, because He is a holy and perfect God, but He took some anyway so we didn’t have to, because He is also loving and merciful. 

Hell was, thankfully, the last step of the sacrifice. After that, Jesus completed the ritual of becoming our free ticket to salvation by raising Himself from the dead! Have you ever heard of anyone who could raise themselves? I haven’t! And on top of that, the Bible says that Jesus’ resurrection was so powerful, that several other people around him were raised from the dead too! Just because He raised himself! Isn’t that crazy?

This is why rejecting Christ is such a big deal to God, and why people who claim there are other ways to Heaven are extremely blasphemous, because if there were any other possible way to Heaven, do you honestly think that God would have sent His only, begotten Son to die on the cross for us? Do you think God wanted to come down to suffer through all of this pain just to say “yeah, actually, you can also get in this other way”? No, of course not. Rejecting Christ’s sacrifice and salvation is basically telling Him that all of that pain and suffering didn’t matter, the same as spitting on Him like the other Jews as He hung on the cross. 

He’s made the pathway to Heaven unbelievably simple. All we have to do is admit that we’re sinners, admit that we need saving from our sins, and accept Jesus Christ to be our savior by believing that He was the Son of God and that He died on the cross for us. If I was sure about anything in life, it is this. God is real. Heaven is real. Hell is real. Jesus is real, and He, along with God the Father and the Holy Spirit, is calling to you now. He is giving you another chance to accept Him as your savior before it’s too late. This could possibly even be your last chance. So please don’t put it off.

I love you guys very much and really really appreciate the people who have continued reading this. I’ll be praying for all of you to receive what I’ve told you, and for those who already have, I’ll be praying for you to keep growing in the Lord. Stay strong in the faith my friends! Keep telling the world about Jesus! He’s always right beside us! <3

Also, Here’s a link for a youtube video about Jesus’ death from a medical point of view. It’s a bit more detailed than I was, so please go watch it as well! https://youtu.be/0B3kgiLxybYOn that note, here’s a link I found recently that gives a bunch of videos and written materials from the author of “Cold Case Christianity”. He was someone who used to be an atheist until he started studying the four gospels with his skill of eye-witness-account-scrutiny. After studying the Bible for a few months, He realized that the Bible is, in fact, telling the truth, and ever since then he’s been racing to let the rest of the world know. Please check him out! www.coldcasechristianity.com/resources)

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#felinette #Marinette #Felix Culpa #Miraculous Ladybug #Quantic Kids #Rosemary AU #New Girl on the Block

[thetravelerwrites]

Urgan (Orc)

Rating: Mature Relationship: Male Human/Male Orc Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Orc, Male Reader, MLM, Gay Reader, Football Captain, College, Friends to Lovers Content Warnings: Alcohol Poisoning, Children, Kids, Pregnancy, Unwanted Pregnacy, Mention of Abortion, College Drop-Out, Strong Language, Drug Use, Angst, Super Angst, ALL THE ANGST Words: 4385

A super duper angsty commission by the wonderful @severedreamerbeard​​! Urgan is the captain of his college football team and all around cool dude. He's an extremely reliable guy with his whole life ahead of him... until the woman he's been dating winds up pregnant, which turns his entire world upside down. The reader, Urgan's best friend, tries to help as much as he can while watching Urgan's life fall apart. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist  

Urgan had been your best friend since preschool. You were human and he was an orc, but you were both jocks growing up, both in sports, both athletic. He’d been there with you through all the major events in your life. He was there when your parents divorced, when you came out as gay in middle school, and when the teammates who had once been friends started bullying you because of it. He was always there.

You hoped you had been as good a friend to him as he had been to you. You were there when his dad died, when his mom remarried someone he hated, and when his highschool sweetheart cheated on him. After all that, the two of you were closer than brothers.

College life was easier on both of you. You both had gotten a sports scholarship and found a friend group that was a lot of fun to hang out with. Parties were epic, classes were less so, but you were living the life and loving every second of it.

Then it changed. Not for everyone, not even for you. Or at least, it didn’t have to. You could have made different choices. It would have been far easier if you had, you were sure. But…

“How long have you been dating Kelly?” You asked him over a beer. The two of you were sitting out on the front porch of a house party currently in full swing.

“Who?” He snorted, half-asleep. He’d pulled an all-nighter the day before preparing for his psych exam.

“Kelly,” You said, pointing into the open door at the girl wearing a halter with a half-empty vodka bottle in her hand, some of which she’d spilled on her chest, grinding on another girl who was sucking the vodka off of her clavicle.

“I wouldn’t say we’re ‘dating’,” He replied, throwing back a large swig of his beer. “Fucking, yes. I’m not trying to date anyone right now. I don’t have the time.” He threw his beer bottle into a large trash barrel and stood up. “Where’s Derek? He owes me fifty bucks.”

“For what?” You asked, standing up and following him through the house. He slapped Kelly’s ass as he passed her on the way inside, and she laughed.

“I borrowed it to buy coke three weeks ago,” He said.

“Didn’t he almost OD?” You asked.

“Yeah, but that ain’t my fault, I want my money,” Urgan said, muscling his way through the crowd.

“Don’t be an asshole, bro,” You said, still following him.

“I’m not being an asshole! It’s not like he learned anything, I bet you five bucks he’s doing coke right now.”

“Yeah, I’m not taking that bet,” You laughed. “I don’t know of a time when he’s not on coke. I think he was high when we first met.”

“That’s my point. You know I’m cool about that stuff normally, but it’s affecting his performance on the field,” Urgan grumbled. “I’m team captain, and if he doesn’t straighten up, I have to kick him off the team, friend or not. We lost to E.U. because of him.”

You grimaced. E.U. had been your school’s rival for generations. The loss hurt and was a huge blow to Urgan. It didn’t help that it was televised nationally.

“If you kick him off the team, the other guys will be pissed,” You reasoned.

“I know that,” He said grumpily. “But managing the team internally is my job. If I don’t do something about it, coach will either demote me or kick me off with him for not handling it when I should have. I can’t afford to lose my scholarship over some douchebag’s coke habit.” He made his way into the garage at the opposite end of the house and smacked a seated Derek on the back of the head. “Hey, Derek! Money! Now!”

“Dude, back off!” Derek protested. “I’ll get it to you when I get it, damn!”

“Not good enough,” Urgan said, kicking the mirror that was in front of Derek. Powder went flying.

“Hey!” Derek said, standing up and taking a swing at Urgan. Urgan ducked and caught Derek’s arm, pinning it behind him. He was always quick.

“Quit the coke or quit the team,” Urgan said, snarling. “We’re not losing another game because you’re too high to play.”

“The fuck are you talking about, man?” Derek said, struggling. “Don’t blame that shit on me! It’s not my fault you can’t organize your team!”

“I’m serious, dude,” Urgan said, pushing Derek to the ground. “I’m not getting punished for you. Straighten up or fuck off.”

“Suck my dick, asshole,” Derek said. He jerked his chin at you. “Or get your boyfriend to do it.”

Words like that were water off your back at this point, but it always riled Urgan up. You could already see him tensing.

“Let it go, dude,” You said, pulling him back. “Derek, seriously, you’re bringing the whole team down. Lay off the drugs, at least until after the championship.”

“Get the fuck out of my house if you’re going to act all high and mighty,” Derek said, pushing past you. “And you can forget that fifty bucks. It’s all over the ground now.”

Urgan’s fists were balled up and he was breathing hard.

“He’s not going to stop,” Urgan said.

“Come on, dude,” You said, smacking him on the shoulder. “You’re not going to accomplish anything here. Take it to the field. Show him why you’re captain.”

“I guess,” He said. “I’m hungry, man, let’s grab something.”

“Sure,” You said. “Kelly’s coming over to your place after the party, though, right?”

“Yeah, but she won’t be any shape to do anything but sleep. She knows where the key is, she’ll be fine.”

Finals were coming up, and most people were holed up in their rooms or dorms studying. Urgan was a decent student and never really worried about tests, though you hadn’t heard from him in a couple of days, which was odd. He could have been working a lot; he had a part-time job to pay for his own studio apartment. He said the dorms were too small for him.

“Urgan? No, I haven’t seen him in a week.” Joey said. Joey was a coworker from the bar where Urgan worked and also an ex-boyfriend of yours. You bumped into him at the university’s library while looking for Urgan. Urgan hadn’t answered his door when you went to check on him, so you figured he had to be here.

“Is he sick?” You asked, taking out your phone. You’d texted him awhile ago and you saw that he had seen it, but he hadn’t responded.

“I dunno,” Joey said. “All I know is that he asked the boss for some personal time. It could just be finals getting to him.”

You frowned. “Hmm… I’m going back to his apartment. He’s never been this quiet before. Something’s not right.”

“Tell him to come back to work. All the girls try to flirt with me when he’s not there. I need him to be my shield.”

You laughed and waved him off, heading out.

“Urgan!” You called, knocking insistently on his door. “Open the door! Are you alright?”

No answer. Frustrated, you got the spare key that was hidden in a slit of the doormat and unlocked the door. His apartment was dark and looked normal. Urgan was a fairly tidy guy, and nothing was really out of place.

“Urgan!” You called again, walking around the partition that obscured his bed. There he was, passed out on top of his blankets. There were empty bottles of liquor everywhere. Your heart stopped.

“Oh, fuck, please don’t be dead,” You said, crawling on the bed to slap him in the face. “Urgan, wake up!” His skin was cold, which scared the shit out of you, but after a minute feeling for a pulse on his neck you found a heartbeat, and you could see him breathing very slowly, so at least he was alive. But he wasn’t responding to your attempts to rouse him.

“Shit.” You took out your phone and called and called emergency services.

“911, what’s the nature of your emergency?”

“Hey, I need an ambulance, I think my friend has alcohol poisoning.” You said quickly, hoping it was intelligible, and gave them the address.

“Okay, sir, how long has this been going on?”

“I’m not sure, I just found him. I haven’t heard from him in days. He’s got a pulse, but he won’t wake up.”

“Is he cold to the touch?”

“Yes.”

“Is he breathing?”

“Slowly, but yes.”

“Can you make sure his airway is clear?”

You put the phone down and opened his mouth. There didn’t seem to be anything in the way.

“It’s clear,” You said.

“Alright, sir, I’ve got an ambulance on the way. Do me a favor and turn him on his side and bend the leg that’s on the top. Keep his airway clear and keep an eye on his breathing.”

“Okay,” You said, doing as the operator said and trying to keep calm.

The ambulance arrived within minutes, and after several moments of the EMTs attempting to wake him and failing, they loaded him in the rig. You were able to ride with him to the hospital. They took you both to a room, and you stood back as they began hooking Urgan up to all sorts of tubes and wires. They put a tube in his mouth because his breathing was weak and slowing down. They put him on a heavy saline drip and debated whether or not to pump his stomach. Eventually, they left him to rest and you sat with him.

“What the fuck is happening with you, man?” You asked him quietly as he slept.

Eventually, you fell asleep, and when you woke up, they were taking the air tube out of his throat. Urgan was awake and groaning in discomfort as it was removed.

“Dude, what the hell?” You said, standing up.

His eyes were bloodshot and he looked extremely sick, but at least he was awake. He waited for the doctors and the nurses to leave so that it was just you and him before he answered you.

“Kelly’s pregnant,” He said hoarsely. “It’s mine. She’s sure of it.”

“Oh, shit,” You said, sitting back down in the chair next to him. “I thought you used protection.”

“I do,” He said in frustration. “The condom must have broken or something. She told me she was on the pill. I don’t know what happened. I’m so fucking screwed.”

“You may not be,” You said, trying to comfort him, but you knew he was right. Being team captain meant that you put the team before everything. If you had another priority, you couldn’t be team captain. Not to mention the scandal of having a kid during the height of his college career would destroy his reputation and make him seem irresponsible. A baby right now was going to ruin him.

“Don’t bullshit me. I can’t show my face at school. Coach is going to kick my ass as soon as he finds out. My life is over.”

“Don’t talk like that, man,” You said. “What’s Kelly saying about all this? Has she told anyone?”

“No, not yet,” He said, covering his eyes. “Well, she hadn’t when I started drinking, but I don’t know if she has now.”

“She wants to keep it?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t get farther than ‘I’m having a baby and it’s yours’. And then I just started drinking and didn’t stop.”

“How far along is she?”

“Three months, she said.”

“How does she know it’s yours?”

“I was the only person she was sleeping with at the time. We were thinking about dating seriously, but it didn’t work out that way.”

“Do you believe that?”

“I don’t know. We’ll find out, I guess.”

You frowned deeply. “She’s… been partying pretty hard in the last three months.”

Urgan rubbed his face. “I know. I’m scared shitless the kid is going to be born fucked up.”

“Do you… think you can talk her into giving it up? For adoption, I mean? She doesn’t seem like mom material.”

“I don’t know,” He said. “I don’t know what she’ll do.”

“What about…” You hesitated to mention it. “What about an abortion?”

“That’s her decision,” He said vaguely. “It’s her body.”

“Do you want me to talk to her?”

“No, don’t,” He said. “I’ll do it when I’ve got my head on right.”

“Dude, look where you are right now,” You said, gesturing vaguely. “Let me at least call her.”

He sighed. “Fine.”

You took Urgan’s phone, which was in his back pocket when he was brought in, and called Kelly. She was surprised to hear about Urgan’s condition and said she’d come up to the hospital.

She arrived an hour later and you gave them some privacy to talk. It was a while, so you went to grab a soda. When you came back, Kelly was leaving with tears on her face. You went in and saw Urgan sitting up in bed. His eyes were red from crying.

“Hey man, are you okay?”

“No,” He said, wiping his face and sniffing. “She’s going to keep it. I’m leaving school.”

“What?” You said, coming around. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m gonna finish out the semester but I’m leaving before the baby is born. I have to find a better job. I’m hoping I can come back when the baby is a bit older, like when they start school or something, and finish my degree.”

“But you only have a year left! Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

“No!” He shouted. “I don’t want to leave school! I’ve been dreaming of this scholarship since I was a kid! It was my dad’s dream! But I’m not going to be a deadbeat! I have to find a decent job before the baby is born. I don’t have a choice.”

You were stunned to silence and just listen to him breathe through his tears.

“Are you and Kelly staying together?”

“Fuck no,” He said vehemently. “We both know that would be stupid. She’s going to stay in school as long as she can. She’s supposed to be due in winter sometime, so I should have enough saved up by then to give her for the baby, to make sure they’re comfortable.” He scowled. “I’m sure Derek is going to be thrilled. I can just see the look on his face now.”

“Don’t worry about that jackass,” You said. “Dude, I… Is there anything I can do to help out?”

He shook his head. “Kelly and I are going to keep this quiet until the end of the semester so that we don’t have to deal with anyone bullshit. After that, we’ll start telling people.”

“You’re not going to tell your mom?”

“Not yet. I can’t face her yet. She’s going to be so disappointed in me.” His tears began to fall again, and all you could do was put a hand on his shoulder and be there for him.

“I won’t say anything to anyone,” You told him. “I’m still your best friend, no matter what. If you need anything, you know I got you.”

“Thanks, man,” He said, his voice breaking.

Urgan finished out school as he planned, barely scraping a passing grade, and then notified everyone that he wouldn’t be returning. As expected, his coach was furious, his mom was disappointed, and the team was dumbfounded. Derek was the only person who seemed to be enjoying the situation.

During summer, he asked for an amniocentesis, both to prove whether or not Urgan was the father, and also to check for any genetic conditions, since Kelly’s family had a history of genetic diseases. Urgan was hoping that she was lying about only sleeping with him around the time she conceived and that he would wind up not the father so he could go back to school, but the test was conclusive. The baby was his.

Urgan found work pretty quickly at a seafood processing plant near town. It was grueling work and it didn’t pay much, but it was a full-time job and had healthcare benefits, which was the best he could hope for in these circumstances. He began saving immediately to buy clothes and diapers for his kid, which he recently found out was a little girl, and was in frequent contact with Kelly. He didn’t attend any of the doctor’s visits at Kelly’s request. Not that he wanted to be there in the first place.

You continued with college and partied like a normal college guy, stayed on the football team, and was promoted to captain. Urgan seemed happy for you and gave you pointers on leadership. If he resented you for it, he gave no sign.

Many of Urgan’s old friends, mostly team members, dropped him immediately. They no longer invited him to parties or events, and when you mentioned inviting him, they shot you down. As far as you knew, the only one who still stood by him was you, and you couldn’t be there as much as you wanted to as you now had responsibilities with the team.

Even still, if he called, you dropped what you were doing and went over. You promised you’d be there, and you were going to keep that promise. He was your best friend and you were going to stand with him. No matter what.

Urgan’s daughter, Roga, was born in November. She was small, even for a half-orc. You were there in the waiting room for the birth with the grandparents. It might have been your presence that stopped them from being at each other’s throats; the animosity in the air was palpable. Kelly’s dad was there, looking not-best-pleased at Urgan’s mom, despite her being nearly twice his size, but no harsh words were said.

Urgan came out in the full paper surgical outfit, holding the baby. He even seemed happy.

“Here she is,” He said, holding her out for the grandparents to see.

“Oh, isn’t she precious,” Urgan’s mom, Reana, said. “She’s got your eyes, Urg.”

“Yeah,” He said, smiling. “She looks a bit like dad, don’t you think?”

“She does!” Reana said brightly. “That nose definitely looks like his.”

The grandparents took turns holding the baby, and then went in to see the mother.

“Hey,” Urgan said to you, the only one left in the room. “Do you want to hold her?”

You chuckled nervously. “I dunno, man, I’ve never held a baby.”

“Neither have I, before today,” He said. “You don’t have to. I just wanted to offer since everyone else got to.”

“Yeah, but they’re family.”

“You’re family, too,” He said, looking at you like you were being an idiot.

You smiled a little and held out your arms, and Urgan carefully lay the baby into them. She was small and squishy and her face was all wrinkly. Babies all looked like potatoes to you. But she reached out and yawned and grabbed at your hand, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“She’s cute,” You said, letting her grip your finger.

“Yeah,” He said, grinning.

“How’s Kelly?”

“She hates my guts, but she’s okay.” Urgan reached out to take the baby, and you handed her over. “I should take Roga back. The lactation specialist wants to work with her.”

“I didn’t know there was a such thing as a lactation specialist,” You said with a laugh.

“Oh, yeah,” Urgan said. “The last nine months have been extremely informative.”

You snorted. “I bet.”

He took the baby back to Kelly and you sat in the waiting room, feeling a little awkward. Why were you here? You weren’t really family. You knew you were supporting Urgan, but… he didn’t really need you there right now. He seemed fine. Happy even, considering the circumstances. Maybe… maybe you should go. You really didn’t belong here.

You texted Urgan to let him know something had come up and to call you if you needed him, and he told you that it was okay, and to be careful going home. As you left, you sighed in relief. But you also felt a little guilty.

Six months later was graduation. You finished top of your class and made valedictorian. You knew that if Urgan had still been in school, he’d have gotten that honor, but…

Urgan didn’t come to graduation, and you understood why. Kelly crossed the stage and accepted her diploma, and you couldn’t help feel a little resentful at her, despite the fact that it wasn’t her fault that Urgan wasn’t there, either. They really had done everything they were supposed to do--used protection, used birth control, was careful--but things just happen sometimes. Even still, it felt like Urgan was the one who had sacrificed the most and had gotten nothing in return.

You managed to get a job at an accounting firm almost immediately after graduation. It was a boring job but the money was good. You were hoping it would be a stepping stone to a better career later.

Since getting the job, you hadn’t really seen or spoken to Urgan much. You were still his best friend, but… you had your own life to live. You felt guilty about it, but your world couldn’t stop just because his had.

Urgan was still working at the fish processing plant, working long hours to support Roga. Urgan was basically paying Kelly’s rent and bills plus everything Roga needed for both homes, since he took her on the weekends from Friday night to Monday morning, when he dropped her off on the way to work.

However, a month after graduation, Urgan called you in a panic.

“Kelly’s gone,” He said. “She’s left. I got a text from her saying she’s gone to Canada.”

“What?” You asked in disbelief. “Did she take Roga?”

“No, I’ve got her here.” He said, his voice shaking. “When she texted me, I was scared she had run off with the baby, but she left Roga with her stepdad. I just picked her up and I’m bringing her back home with me.”

You felt terrible for hoping Kelly had taken Roga with her to Canada. Even though you knew it wasn’t Roga’s fault, all you wanted was for Urgan’s life to go back to normal. You just wanted him to have the things he should have had if Roga hadn’t been born. And you hated yourself for thinking that.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” He said. He sounded extremely distressed. “Can you meet me at my apartment, please? I need someone to talk to. You’re all I have left.”

“Yeah, of course, I’ll be right there,” You said, picking up your keys.

“Thank you,” He said, and then hung up. He was audibly crying.

You made it to Urgan’s apartment before he did, and you saw him step out of the elevator carrying a ton of baby stuff in one arm and hauling Roga in her carseat in the other.

“Can you take her, please?” Urgan said. He looked pale and in shock.

“Yeah, of course,” You said, taking her carrier and looking inside. She was sleeping with a stuffed griffon clutched in her baby hands. “Is she okay?”

“I think so,” He said, unlocking his door. His apartment was strewn with kid stuff. It was so much different than the last time you’d seen it.

“I’m sorry about the mess,” He said, dropping the load he was carrying in the middle of the floor.

“Dude, I don’t care about the mess, are you okay?” You asked.

“I…” He ran his fingers through his hair. He was visibly shaking. “I don’t know if I can do this alone. I had accepted being a dad, but I don’t know if I can be… the only parent. I… I don’t know any babysitters for when I’m working. I don’t… is she off breastmilk? When was her last check up? When is she supposed to see the doctor again? Kelly didn’t tell me those things because I.. I figured she had it handled. I was making sure they had everything they needed. I didn’t think I’d…”

“Okay, calm down,” You said. “Roga is fine. You can find all of that stuff out. I’ll help, I’ll help however I can, okay?”

“Okay,” He said, sitting on his couch heavily. “Okay.” He reached down into her carseat and unstrapped her, putting her against his shoulder, clutching her as if she was a warm stone and he was freezing. He was certainly shaking like he was.

This was the first time you’d seen Roga since she was born. Now that she’d had a chance to grow, she did look a lot like Urgan. It made you feel worse for resenting her.

“Look, can you watch her for a few minutes?” He asked suddenly. “I’m almost out of formula and I didn’t expect to have her right now. I was going to go Thursday to stock up. I don’t want to run out.”

“I…” You hesitated.

“Please,” He begged quietly. “Please. Ten minutes. I promise.”

You sighed. “Okay.”

He transferred Roga from his shoulder to yours. Uncertainly, you gripped her firmly.

“I’ll be right back, I promise,” Urgan said, and he was out the door.

There was a rocking bassinet near Urgan’s bed behind the divider, and you settled Roga in it, staring down at her peacefully sleeping form.

“I wish I didn’t hate you,” You told her, tears welling up in your eyes and falling down your cheeks. “But you took everything from him. I know it’s not your fault, but it doesn’t change anything. He’ll never be the man he should have been because of you.”

Roga sighed in her sleep and snugged into her bed without waking. You did nothing but sit on Urgan’s bed and stare at her the entire time Urgan was gone, allowing yourself to hate her and Kelly and the team at school and everyone who turned their back on Urgan when he needed them the most. When Urgan returned, your tears had dried, and you left.

Roga was still sleeping.

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Exophilia #Monster Boyfriend #Orc #MLM #Male Reader #Reader Insert #Children #Babies #Pregnancy

[sneezyminniejo]

Hii! Can I request a sickfic where Stray Kids are on tour in Japan and Hyunjin get a stomach bug? Thank you..

Here it is, hope you enjoy,

TW emeto

Hotel Mess

The Stray Kids members were currently in Japan for the last leg of their world tour. They had already done two concerts here and had one more scheduled for tonight and one for tomorrow night before heading back home. They were all still extremely excited and pumped for their concerts. Well all except for one member.

Hyunjin had woken up feeling like absolute shit. He had a headache, he felt both hot and cold, and his stomach was churning uncomfortably. He wasn't entirely sure how or where since he was really only ever around his fellow members, but it was clear he somehow caught a stomach bug.

Hyunjun knew that he needed to tell someone he was sick, but wasn't sure how to broach the topic. Mainly because Jisung's anxiety was flaring up a bit and he didn't want to make everyone more stressed.

However, Hyunjin didn't have to debate whether or not he should hide his illness, because as soon as he stood up he became extremely dizzy while his stomach lurched violently.

He did his best to stagger his way to the bathroom of his room, but didn't quite make it.

Before he could even reach the halfway mark to the bathroom, Hyunjun bent forward and gagged. A split second later a round of sick was making its appearance on the carpet of the hotel room. He dry heaved a couple of times after he finished puking then sat down next to the puddle, any energy he'd had previously, now depleted entirely.

Jisung, who had been in the bathroom brushing his teeth, had heard some kind of commotion coming from his roommate and fellow 2000 liner, but wasn't entirely sure what it was. He spit the toothpaste into the sink, rinsed his mouth, then left the bathroom to investigate.

What he found was Hyunjin sitting on the floor in between the two beds with a puddle of vomit next to him. He quickly hurried over to him and placed his hand on the older's forehead, not the slightest bit surprised to find him feverish.

"Jinnie, you feeling okay?" He asked his sick hyung. Hyunjin groaned while shaking his head while holding his abdomen. "Do you need help getting to the bathroom?" Jisung asked, not quite sure what all he could do, but gently helped Hyunjun to his feet when he nodded.

Jisung safely got Hyunjin situated in front of the toilet just in time to watch him begin puking again. Jisung watched his hyung empty the contents of his stomach for a good minute before helping him rest against the bathtub when he finished.

“Aish hyung, you aren’t in any condition for the concert tonight. I need to tell Chan hyung and figure out how to get the carpet cleaned.” Jisung was primarily thinking out loud, but Hyunjin heard every word and was in no condition to argue. As much as he’d like to argue about telling Chan he can’t perform, the room was spinning and there were two Jisungs. Hyunjin just wanted to go back to bed.

Jisung momentarily left the bathroom to go digging in his suitcase for the thermometer that he knew was in there. Chan always made sure that at least one member per rooming arrangement had one along with other items just in case. He quickly found it and scanned the other’s forehead. “Shit hyung, we need to get this lowered fast. Your fever is 103.2.” Jisung quickly turned on the faucet of the bathtub, making sure it was lukewarm and waited for it to fill up.

Jisung helped Hyunjin undress down to his boxers, then helped him into the tub. He then quickly left again to grab his phone and returned to the bathroom. When he got to the bathroom however, Hyunjin’s face somehow got paler and greener. Jisung rapidly grabbed the tiny trash can located near the toilet and held it under his hyung’s head.

Hyunjin gagged a couple of times before his head was basically thrust into the can as he dry heaved into it. After several moments of dry heaving, only a small stream of bile came out. Hyunjin leaned back when he was done and whimpered in discomfort. He then heard a phone ringing quickly followed by Jisug answering it.

“Yeah hyung, Jinnie is in zero condition for the concert tonight. He’s thrown up at least twice and he’s got a high fever.” Hyunjin turned to see that Jisung was talking on the phone.” Jisung sighed as he hung up the phone and turned back to Hyunjin.

“Chan hyung is having a manager talk with the front desk about getting us moved to a different room. You stay in the tub for a bit and I’ll make sure our suitcases are set for the move. Holler if you need me.” With that Jisung left the bathroom.

It only took a few minutes for Jisung to get everything put together and he returned grabbing the thermometer off the bathrom counter. He quickly scanned Hyunjin’s forehead again. “It’s a little bit lower hyung. It’s now 102.8. Let’s get you out of the tub and changed, the manager will be here shortly. The manager showed up and helped carry the bags while Jisung braced Hyunjin. He offered to carry the sick member, but Jisung adamantly refused not wanting to increase the chance of it spreading beyond him and Hyunjin. He just needed to convince Chan to let him sit out of the concert as well.

The duo got into the room and their manager told them that he called room service to bring up some soup. He then left to go buy some fever reducers on Jisung's request.

Jisung helped Hyunjun get settled on the bed nearest to the bathroom. "How do you feel hyung?" Jisung asked. "Like shit." Was all Hyunjin said. "I'm going to quick fill up the ice bucket. Do you think you'll be okay for a few minutes?" Hyunjin nodded and Jisung left the room with the bucket.

In the few minutes that Jisung was gone, the soup had arrived and was sitting on a cart outside the room. Jisung placed the ice bucket on the cart and wheeled into the room. He brought the bowl of soup over to the sick member then took the bucket to the bathroom to fill with water.

Hyunjin was a bit hesitant to eat the food. He wasn't sure how his body was going to tolerate anything, but also knew he needed to eat something. He began to eat slow bites of the soup as Jisung returned with a bucket of ice water and a washcloth.

Jisung sat on the bed next to Hyunjin and dipped the cloth in the bucket before wringing it out and placing it on the older's neck. Jisung then turned on the TV and began eating his own bowl of soup. The duo ate in relative silence, and by the time they finished Hyunjin was beginning to nod off.

Jisung quickly and quietly put the bowls back on the cart before getting back on the bed to cuddle with his sick hyung. He knew it wasn’t the smartest idea, but he knew that Hyunjin loved to cuddle when he wasn’t feeling good. Jisung also had a fairly strong immune system. He wasn’t sure when the last time he had last been genuinely sick with anything other than a minor cold, and those usually lasted like three days, so he wasn’t worried. Jisung fell asleep not too long after Hyunjin.

About an hour later, Hyunjin suddenly woke up a bit confused. He wasn’t entirely sure why he had woken up, but before he could ponder it any, he began throwing up all over the bed and his oldest dongsaeng.

Hyunjin felt like he couldn’t control himself at all. He could feel how his stomach contracted painfully as it pushed the bile and the soup from lunch up his throat. Which in turn triggered his gag reflex so he could properly expel whatever was making his stomach so angry.

Once he had finished puking, he was able to take note of what had happened and realized that he had puked all over his dongsaeng, who was sitting frozen on the bed and looked to be on the brink of tears. Hyunjin was about to start apologizing, but Jisung shot up and ran to the bathroom before he could. A few seconds later, Hyunjin could hear what sounded like Jisung puking.

“Sungie, are you okay?” Hyunjin called, guilty that his dongsaeng had evidently caught his stomach bug. He met with further retching around noises that sounded kind of like ‘I’m fine. A minute later, Jisung emerged from the bathroom, stripped down to his boxers.

“That did not feel good.” Jisung muttered as he dug through his suitcase for some clean clothes. He looked up to find Hyunjin looking extremely guilty. “What’s up hyung?” he asked somewhat cautiously. Hyunjin sniffled, “I got you sick.” Jisung chuckled at that.

“While I have to admit that puking so suddenly and hard like that did not feel good, and that technically you did cause the puking, I’m not sick.” Hyunjin’s face morphed from guilt and concern to confusion at that statement.

“I operate pretty well around vomit and people puking, but as soon as someone pukes on me, my body kind of freaks out and decides it needs to expel whatever as well. I promise I’m fine.” Jisung finished his explanation then began to strip the bed of the duvet, which caught the puke that hadn’t landed on his lap.

“I think you should take it easy tonight though Sung, just in case.” Jisung nodded in understanding and took his phone off the nightstand, calling Chan.

After a couple of rings, Chan picked up. “What’s up Sung, How’s Jinnie?” “About that hyung, Hyunjin threw up again, then threw up right after.” Chan sighed upon hearing this. “Alright, I’ll talk with the managers and the other members and see if we can manage the show with just six, or if we have to cancel or postpone tonight’s concert. We’ll discuss tomorrow’s concert tomorrow. Feel better you two.” Chan hung up shortly thereafter, leaving the two oldest 2000 liners to their own devices.

Jisung put the phone down and noticed the box of fever reducers he had completely forgotten about on the cart with the room service. He grabbed the thermometer, the medicine, and some crackers before going back over to Hyunjin. He scanned the older’s forehead with the thermometer. “The good news is your fever is still down a little at 102.8, but the bad news is it hasn’t gone down any more. Do you think you can stomach a few crackers and take some medicine?” Hyunjin nodded and took the crackers. After he ate the crackers he took the offered dose of medicine and slumped back against the pillow.

It was soon decided that it would be too difficult to rearrange the choreography from eight people to six on such short notice, so management issued a statement postponing the remaining two concerts for the following week. Thankfully the location they were performing in was free the following week, so it wasn’t too difficult to rearrange some things. Twitter and Bubble had been blowing up from concerned fans wishing the sick members ‘get well soon’.

During the week they now had off for recovery, Jisung made sure that no one else actually came into the room. He only opened the door to receive the food their manager had arranged, successfully keeping the stomach bug contained to his and Hyunjin’s hotel room.

Just as Jisung had told Hyunjin, he was absolutely fine. He had never developed a fever and only puked the one time, so it was fairly safe to say he hadn’t caught the virus.

Hyunjin on the other hand spent the first couple of days throwing up every few hours. Thankfully he was able to keep food down to some extent, so his fever was able to be kept at a manageable number. He stopped vomiting three days into the week, and his fever broke two days before the first rescheduled concert. Hyunjin went on vlive the day before the first concert to talk with Stay and assure them that he was feeling much better, but wouldn’t be dancing during the concert. Jisung also made an appearance and assured fans that no one else had gotten sick as they had both remained sequestered to their hotel room the entire time.

#sickfic #emeto #stray kids

[strictpunishedhubby]

Wir waren abends bei Freunden eingeladen. Etwa zwei Stunden vorher kündigte mir meine Frau eine Tracht Prügel mit dem Rohrstock auf meinen nackten Po an. Auf meine zaghafte Frage, was ich denn wieder angestellt habe, meinte sie lakonisch, "nichts, es ist eine vorbeugende erzieherische Maßnahme, damit ich mich anständig benehme und nicht wie beim letzten Mal wage mehr Alkohol zu trinken als sie mir erlaubt hat, denn dadurch würde ich außerdem frech und vorlaut!"   

Die anschließende Züchtigung ließ mich heftig weinen, einmal weil sie nachhaltig schmerzhaft für mich ausfiel, zum anderen, weil ich mich unberechtigt von ihr behandelt fühlte, zumal weil sie damals als wir nach Hause kamen nicht nur kräftig durchgeprügelt hat, sondern auch noch drei Tage Hausarrest auferlegt hat mit frühen Schlafenszeiten, denen eine erneute Züchtigung voranging und Sprechverbot. Ich wurde also deswegen nachhaltig bestraft, und meine Reue war aufrichtig!

Den ganzen Abend über war ich sehr höflich und ruhig, auch weil ich beim Sitzen meinen wehen Hintern spürte. Ich wagte keinen Alkohol zu trinken.

Später auf dem Heimweg meinte meine Frau, "die präventive Tracht Prügel hat Dir wohl sehr gutgetan, so anständig hast Du Dich noch nie benommen! Und keinen Alkohol getrunken mein artiger Junge! Zukünftig werde ich Dich vor jeder Einladung durchwamsen!"

Ich nahm es mit einem mulmigen Gefühl ohne Protest zu wagen, schweigend zur Kenntnis.

Sie hat mir nach einer späteren Aussprache, die für mich nichts geändert hat, da sie alleine bestimmt wie sie mich erzieht, mir erlaubt Dich zu fragen, 

findest Du es für richtig, dass sie prophylaktisch meinen nackten Hintern mit dem Rohrstock versohlt? Wenn Du es bejahst, soll die Züchtigung so heftig ausfallen, dass ich diese den ganzen Abend über so schlimm spüre, nur damit sich mein Verhalten bessert? 

Gibt es hier noch andere Männer die von ihren Frauen auch prophylaktisch gezüchtigt werden? Oder wenn Du eine Frau bist züchtigst Du Deinen Mann auch prophylaktisch, nur um ihn noch besser unter Kontrolle zu halten?

.

.

.

We were invited to friends' homes in the evening. About two hours beforehand, my wife announced that I would be beaten with a cane on my bare bottom. When I hesitantly asked what I have done some mischief  again, she said laconically, "Nothing, it's a preventive educational measure so that I behave properly and not like last time dare to drink more alcohol than she allowed me, because that would also make me sassy and cheeky!"

The following caning made me cry violently, on the one hand because it was persistently painful for me, on the other hand because I felt I was being treated unjustifiably by her, especially because when we got home she not only beat up hard, but also imposed house arrest for three days with early bedtime for me, preceded by renewed spanking and a ban on speaking. So I was severely punished for it, and my repentance was sincere!  

I was very polite and calm the whole evening, also because I could feel my sore buttocks while sitting. I didn't dare drink alcohol.

Later, on the way home, my wife said, "The preventive beating must have been very good for you, you have never behaved so properly! And did not drink alcohol, my good boy! In the future I'll give you a good trashing before every invitation!" I took it with a queasy feeling to venture without protest, in silence.

She told me after a later debate, which didn’t change anything for me,  because she alone determines how she educate me,  allowed me to ask you, 

Do you think it is right for her to prophylactically spank my bare buttocks with a cane? If you say yes, should the chastisement be so severe that I feel it so badly throughout the evening just so that my behavior improves?

If so, should the punishment have to be so severe that I feel it so badly throughout the evening, just to improve my behavior?  

Are there any other men here who are also punished prophylactically by their wives? Or if you are a wife do you chastise your husband prophylactically just to keep him even better under control?