#hes under a lot of pressure all the time. self imposed. to make sure everyone is safe. shouldering it all and pretending to be fine. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soracities · 8 months

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Ur so eloquent and i love ur posts about the societal pressures associated w makeup!!!! 💗💗💗 u put everything I feel & think about into coherent words and I so appreciate that! Also I would like to hear ur thoughts on plastic surgery bcuz I am also annoyed. If I see that smug smiley little dickhead plastic surgeon tiktoker on my FYP one more time saying “ohhh my patients r beautiful. Anyway here are all the procedures I’m gonna do to alter their ethnic nor unique features and make them look totally different” I’m gonna scream. The patronising pseudo-kindness is almost worse than when he goes completely mask-off about exploiting insecurity - like the vid he made laughing w the caption “when a 20yr old says she’s doesn’t need Botox bcuz she’s gonna age gracefully.” I’ve spent a lot of time cultivating a healthy self-esteem & generally not defining myself by my appearance - yet even I felt a flicker of my old insecurity seeing that post. I block every post referencing plastic surgery and I STILL get them. It’s incessant & so insidious - esp for poc. My 13yr old cousin (who watches lots of tiktok) told me she’s saving up for a nose job and a BBL when she turns 18 and my heart fkn broke. No 13yr old shld even KNOW the term BBL.

I feel so much for your younger sister, anon, because whatever else I may have gone through with my own insecurities at 13 (and they were profound and absolutely did a number on me), I genuinely cannot begin to imagine what it's like to cope with all of that in the age of TikTok and IG and the added pressure of beauty influencers magnifying everything.

Honestly, my thoughts on cosmetic surgery are very complicated--I don't think it's something that's ever going to go away, and to be honest I'm not even sure if it's about that. I know people who've had cosmetic procedures done and I know it was something deeply important for them and I know how much happier and at ease they felt afterwards--I'm not going to judge or begrudge anyone that happiness because the reality is, as much as it would be amazing if we all loved and celebrated ourselves and each other, everyone's individual constellation of insecurities and worries is completely different and not everyone will be able to address them in the same way.

To live in a world where we are not defined and punished for our physical differences would be an incredible thing, but we don't live in that kind of world--and so learning to be at peace with yourself in the midst of the world we do have, learning to accept your body or any individual aspects of your appearance is incredibly difficult--and these difficulties are influenced even more by gender, or race, or the culture in which you live etc., or even just the people around you. Do I wish my friends could see what I see? Of course. But I also don't know what they see, or how deeply that runs, or the impact that has on them. Because I also know that, when it comes to myself, I don't see what they see, either. I've said before that I find prominent noses absolutely beautiful--but I know that I cannot impose this on someone who has had to live their life under constant comments about their nose (or any other feature), to the point where they feel that is all they are to people. I don't condemn people for the choices they make in this, but I do condemn the structures and societal expectations that force some people into certain choices in the first place by normalising this idea that there is a "correct" way to look (and I'm not immune to it either--I have a lot of profound insecurities that are incredibly difficult to get past).

It's very similar to how I view makeup in some respects because whatever choices people make when it comes to cosmetic procedures should feel like choices to them. But not all cosmetic procedures are made equally and my real issue with cosmetic surgery (and in my mind I distinguish it from plastic surgery because they are not the same to me), more than anything else, is when it becomes a tool for upholding and celebrating particular beauty standards that are deeply gendered, politicized and racialised while claiming it is "just" a matter of aesthetics, which is deeply, deeply insidious to me. "Aesthetics" have never been neutral. Even the language we use in talking about it isn't neautral: "fix", "adjust", "improve" etc. Improve according to whom? Why do they decide this? At the end of the day, no matter what you say about the golden ratio there is nothing wholly objective about beauty because human beings are not static Ideals; you cannot distill beauty into a mathematic formula like a conch shell because beauty is not something separate from the thing it occupies. These ideals work for Plato, but we are living, breathing, moving, exsiting in the here and now. A static image of a beautiful woman in a Vogue covershoot is just that: an image. And all the rules that govern that image fall apart the moment the model moves again, the moment she becomes a person again.

And besides, nothing can be "just" aesthetics in a world with the warped beauty standards that we have. There's nothing neutral about nose jobs in a society marred with as much anti-black racism and antisemitism as ours. There's nothing neutral about BBLs in a society that fetishizes black women's (and other woc) bodies as ours. There's nothing neutral about buccal fat removal in a society so plagued by thinness as not just a physical but also a moral ideal. I read a horrifying article on GQ a few months back about men undergoing cosmetic surgery to widen their jawlines so they appear more "manly"--and a surgeon in the article casually said one of these patients also "needed a rhinoplasty" which made me see red: nobody needs their face smashed open for the sake of an arbitrary standard whose very purpose (Beauty) requires the existence, and therefore manipulation and condemnation, of its opposite in order to appear valid. These beauty standards only have value so long as their opposites have no value--but these "opposites" are not disembodied traits: they are real human features that belong to real breathing human beings who have to live surrounded with this rhetoric for their entire lives. There's nothing neutral to me about looking at a human face and dissecting all of its features, ascribing values to some, and disparaging others, as though they exist as separate building blocks you can rearrange at will. In some instances, it skirts too close phrenology for me, and I'm not saying that lightly.

These are some of my thoughts but as I said, my views on this are very complicated and I have to be careful how I talk about some of it because there are some things that genuinely make me deeply angry. Again, I don't believe the solution is to get rid of cosmetic surgery, because I don't think that will ever really work and I think it misses the point--most people will always have something about themselves they'll want to change or just wish was different and for some people more than others they will want to make that change: and I would much rather people have access to legal, qualified, accountable medical professionals when they do. But in cases like your sister, in cases like that GQ article, in cases like that TikTok surgeon (I have no words, anon, truly...), or really just TikTok in general, in cases like ethnic rhinoplasty and eyelid surgery, the fact that the number of people getting Botox has grown since the increase in video calls and Zoom meetings....in all honesty at this point I am just tired and infuriated by our refusal to have an actual conversation about the society these procedures exist in and are normalised within and I'm especially tired when influencers and celebrities make a point of not being upfront about their own procedures. I don't care what people get done or why (as long as its a freely made choice for no one else's sake but yours), but I do care when we make it as acessible as these procedures are now, when they are tacitly (and in some cases outright) encouraged, and yet talking about them or admitting to having had that work done is somehow gauche and I am incredibly tired of it!

#it would break my heart too to hear my sisters talk like that anon truly....all the work you've done building your self-esteem verbalise it!#praise yourself and celebrate yourself as often as you can around your sister and maybe hopefully she can begin to see herself in your word #too. im not saying it will get rid of tiktok but maybe it will provide an important counterweight. and if you can maybe try talking to her #also about the nature of things online vs irl....i dont know but i deeply feel for you both and i hope some day your sister is able to see #herself beyond the reach of these things <3 #ask #anonymous

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rikeijo · 2 years

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Today's translation #45

The talk about censorship...

Yamamoto Sayo's episode commentary

Episode 7.

　　We decided we would do the scene after Yuuri's FS as early as during the "writing of the project proposal" stage, so with Kubo-san we couldn't wait to finally draw it. It happens that before FS, the skaters who did well in SP are under huge pressure. When something like that is happening to Yuuri, how will Victor deal with him…? - I was thinking of this as I was working on the plot and suddenly I remembered Takahashi Daisuke's SP "Eye" during Vancouver Olympics, choreographed by Miyamoto-sensei. This SP starts with the sound of glass breaking. At that time, Takahashi was often said to be mentally weak, and from what I've heard, it was the sound editor, Yano-san, who put in his SP music this special effect that wasn't present in the original track, with the purpose of breaking Takahashi's heart of glass before his performance. Yuuri crying before his own performance was also inspired by Takahashi before his FS in Vancouver. I thought Victor would probably forcefully break Yuuri's heart… and so I created the scene in the parking lot. After being angry with Victor's immaturity as a coach and telling him how he really feels while crying, Yuuri takes the offensive and in his FS he changes a quad toe loop to a quad flip, Victor's symbol. Victor sees it and he's perplexed with this joy he feels as a coach, joy that he didn't know as a skater… and this leads to the scene after Yuuri's performance. To be honest, while working on this scene, I was stopped many times by everyone around me, but to me it was a scene I just had to include, so I bulldozed my way through, while being fully aware that people wouldn't understand. Of course, I was sure that when they saw the finished film [as in "a roll of film"] I would be able to make them understand… By the way, the scenes when Yuuri turns off all the TVs in the backstage and is tapping his leg while sitting in the chair with his head down were inspired by Machida Tatsuki.

[Notes:

I know that it was probably discussed a million times, but still some people in the fandom... and even youtubers, who you'd expect to do some in-depth research... like to spread the "gay censorship laws, and that's why they couldn't show the kiss" theory to this day.

There's no LGBT censorship law in Japan. Almost all media censorship (with obvious exceptions like e.g. nudity...) in Japan is actually self-imposed. If you read this commentary, I think it's quite clear that Sayo was talking here about this kind of self-censorship thing... The exact phrase she used is that "she was stopped from 各方面", "from every direction"... This probably could mean production committee members, producers, other staff members.

If I remember correctly, I also read in the past some posts in English arguing that she didn't mean "the kiss", but the whole sequence of events in this episode. It's very clear, however, that she meant specifically the "scene after the FS" in the original text, so the kiss.

Most importantly, everyone who knows how LGBT-related issues are treated in Japan in general probably wasn't shocked by this comment like at all. This is simply how things are in this country. ]

#yuri on ice #yoi translations #yuri on ice translation

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moonbaby26 · 3 years

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Title: The Past

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader, and past references to Peter x Crystal (from The Inhumans).

Summary: Continuation from previous chapter. Set after the battle with Apocalypse, you and the others are still biding your time while waiting to get back home. After touching base with Xavier to see where everything stands, you get to spend some more alone time with Peter and learn more about his fears and his past.

Notes: Please don’t @ me Inhumans fans! 🥺 I have zero problem with Crystal. And for those that don’t follow the comics, Crystal and comics!Quicksilver were once married, even having a daughter together named Luna. But the two weren’t compatible, and things went sour. Crystal cheated on him (Pietro was shitty to her too) and their marriage was eventually annulled. She remarried later, but he never did.

Warnings: Some cursing, a bit more necking. Talk of past unhealthy relationships, mention of sex.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @drikawinchester , @n0obmaster69 , @alexloveskili , @what-a-silver-lining , @bluesprings18 , @weakmoony-stuff , @slytherinsi-mp , @wintwrsoldiwr , @tommy-braccoli , @amourtentiaa , @cringingmemeries , @bi-panicatthe-disco , @himbos-are-my-lifeblood , @simp4mcuwomen

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

—————————

“Charles!” You heard Hank’s relieved surprise from somewhere nearby, yourself immediately trying to get back out of the bunk at the commotion.

Peter had no choice but to let go of you then, albeit still somewhat reluctantly before he sat up himself, grabbing his crutches off the floor to follow you.

“Well it’s about time. We were starting to wonder if we needed to mount another rescue,” Raven chimed in, one hand on her hip as she looked Xavier over. “Rough night?”

You could see the Professor then, seated tiredly in the wheelchair they’d given him with the rest of the group now standing around as you joined them.

“It was quite a strenuous night, yes,” Xavier responded, evidently having just come into the barracks as the door still hung open behind him.

Peter chuckled oddly beside you at the Professor’s choice of words. Though not all that loud to really have been intended for the group.

You wouldn’t have thought much of it, except for the funny look that came over Xavier’s face as he chided him instantly. “Peter, that is entirely inappropriate.”

But the others, save maybe Jean, looked just as confused as you at the seemingly random exchange, before Xavier kept on.

“Yes, Peter...Moira did accompany me all night. We had a lot to catch up on, even after the officials were done with their lengthy interrogations. But she and I talked. Please do keep your mind from the gutter. The strenuous activity I was referring to was the constant mental blocking and redirecting I imposed to those doing the questioning as to spare you all from being put in a poor light, or even remembered too well as significant players in this at all to keep you out of their future investigations.”

For his own part though, Peter didn’t look too embarrassed, or put off any really from the abrupt admonishment. Even as the Professor had just given details on the lengths he’d gone through to protect everyone, Peter only smiled, raising both hands as if to feign innocence, the crutches propped under his arms. “Hey now. No judgement here, Prof. And I didn’t say it out loud, right?”

“You didn’t have to.” Xavier sighed. “When something strikes you as funny, especially something sophomoric, you transmit it like a beacon.”

Peter looked both curious and amused at that new concept, but said nothing more.

A sly look was starting to glean behind Raven’s eyes though before she interceded instead. “You know, I don’t think I fully believe you, Charles.”

“Pardon?” There was a little surprise as Xavier glanced up to her.

But she just tilted her head, smirking slightly. “For as much crap as you always gave me about staying ‘professional’ with teammates back in the day, you think I’d just offer no comment now? Don’t lie to them. You didn’t only talk. Knowing your past with her, I’m sure of it actually.”

Peter just whistled then as Hank stared in helpless silence.

“Raven...” The Professor warned, but already knowing it was likely futile. “Is this really the time?”

“These might be your new X-Men, Charles.” She motioned to you all. “After all they’ve been through in the last 48 hours, I promise you they aren’t just kids anymore. Just like we weren’t.” She glanced to Hank briefly, then back to the Professor. “Don’t make them think we all walked around like robots back then, or that we would now. I always hated when you did that.”

Xavier closed his eyes a moment, taking a breath before looking back to everyone. “Admittedly, there has been much self sacrifice recently, and I am extremely proud of you all for how you rose up to help defend one another when everything was at stake. And there is nothing shameful in forming more personal bonds, of course. Raven is correct in that regard, though her delivery and sense of timing may leave something to be desired.”

Raven still shook her head. “You use so many words to still say nothing sometimes.”

“Hank, feel free to speak up any time now really.” Xavier deadpanned.

“Um, well...” Hank stammered a bit. “Did they say anything about when we might get to leave?”

The awkwardness was lessened somewhat at that as you all perked up at the question, equally ready to move on from this ship.

“Yes in fact, thank you, Hank.” The Professor was visibly relieved to get back to a more practical subject. “We will sleep here again tonight, but tomorrow they’re taking us to Kasteli airport on the island. It’s just a single runway, but large enough for the government flight they’re chartering to come here. It will be making multiple stops to pickup as many stranded U.S. targets as possible in the European region before crossing the Atlantic to deliver us to McGuire Air Force base in New Jersey.”

“Really...Jersey?” Peter commented flippantly. “Better than nothing I guess.”

But Xavier just ignored the interruption this time, “Moira’s contacts will furnish us all with I.D.’s and passports to get back into the country. For those of us that already had one, but may have lost it in all the recent events, it will be a reprint from previous government record. For those that never had one, they will create them for you.” He looked to Ororo and Kurt particularly there.

“What about the school?” Scott asked, “And all the other students? Are they okay?”

It was true that after you’d all been taken by Stryker and his men, you couldn’t know what had happened to anyone else after. Where they’d gone now with no place to stay, and if they’d remained safe with Magneto’s previous lashing out on the world.

The Professor nodded, clearly approving of that concern. “It was very difficult to get in contact with anyone directly. But again, Moira pressured her agency for assistance there. I’m told they were finally able to reach some of the staff who had taken the students to nearby hotels while trying to inform their families of their whereabouts. The explosion has been officially deemed due to a ‘gas leak’ however.”

He looked to Scott directly then though before continuing solemnly. “Of course for your family, Scott, an agent went personally to inform them of the truth. I’m so sorry. I know there hasn’t been any time to mourn Alex yet. His sacrifice will not be forgotten. He was only trying to protect me. We will have a proper ceremony for him as soon as we are able.”

You saw Jean take a hold of Scott’s hand as he only nodded rather than reply, seemingly unwilling to talk much more on that subject right now.

Xavier understood, keeping on. “As for the school itself, it will take time to rebuild of course. For those that do have safe homes to return to with family, that will have to be where they stay for now.” Yet the look in his eyes said how surely he knew that that would not be the case for many. A very common thread in so many of your histories was rejection by your own families.

“And for those who do not have anywhere else safe to go, I’m going to see what we can rent or lease in the interim once we’re back in the states. Hopefully something a bit more comfortable than the local motels.”

“And Stryker?” Raven interjected again, a little coldness to her voice though. “Did you call your ‘interviewers’ out on that bullshit?”

The Professor ruffled slightly at the language, but did not argue with it. “They claimed ignorance on those operations entirely. Looking into their minds, they did believe those facilities existed, but it was completely above their security clearance to know anything of what went on inside them. I think Stryker had partnered more with a private firm to be honest.”

Hank sighed. “Wonderful, more secret organizations bent on using us for experimentation and weaponry.”

Xavier agreed. “Yes, that will remain an ongoing threat I’m afraid. But all the more reason for us to keep training the youth. We will not be helpless in this world as long as we continue to grow our strengths together, and protect one another.”

Raven raised her eyebrows at those words. “Hmm. That almost sounds like the need for some kind of team again, doesn’t it, Charles? Fighters instead of pacifists? Maybe you should actually listen to the things I say for once.”

He didn’t rise to her baiting though, only starting to back his chair away then. “In due time, Raven. We shall see where this all ends up. But as for the present, now that everyone is caught up on what we know, I believe several of you were wishing for some time above deck.”

“That is an understatement,” Ororo answered, looking surprisingly uncomfortable the more you actually looked at her then. “The longer we’ve been here the more it feels like a tomb.” She added.

“She has claustrophobia.” Jean replied only in your mind, likely seeing the puzzlement on your face. “But she’s been hiding it well.”

You felt a bit guilty for not having noticed regardless, immediately glad for Jean sharing so that you could end that obliviousness. That was just the basics of being friends, knowing what the others were going through, to be of help whenever you could.

“Yes, absolutely!” You spoke up too. “Will they let us walk around a while up there?” The whole Mediterranean was outside, the sky and the water. And anything would be better than this endless grey metal, bulkheads, and compartments all in artificial lighting.

“I don’t know that I’m going to give them much choice,” Xavier smiled, fully exiting back out of the doorway then. “Come along all of you. We’ll see what we can do.”

—————————

You were certain that the Professor had indeed used a good bit of mental persuasion to grant you all full access to the flight deck. But as no planes were taking off, landing, or anything at all really, it was fairly safe to wander as you pleased right now.

Scott had wanted to get a closer look at some of those jets regardless though. Himself, Jean, Kurt, and Ororo going over to check out those that were still parked near the center of the deck.

Raven and Hank had wandered off somewhere near the bow, while Moira had reappeared and you’d seen her sit down in the shade under the ship’s bridge tower with Xavier. You could see them still talking as you and Peter had walked off towards the stern.

The air did feel as good as you’d hoped. It was cool, with that distinct smell of salt, dancing both you and Peter’s hair around lightly in the breeze.

But you wished you could really be at the water’s edge, to touch it, or even swim in it. It’d been such a long time since you’d gotten to be at the ocean.

It made you wonder too though where Peter had spent his time as a child. Had his family travelled to the beach much during his summers growing up?

“So you lived near Washington D.C.?” You asked, looking upward though as you now walked under a fighter jet’s wing, many more left waiting here at the aft of the ship. You remembered his words to Magneto, about the Pentagon being so close to their home at some point. Even if Peter had never known his father had been imprisoned there all along.

“Still do.” Peter answered, reaching out to grab your hand before you walked back out of the shade from under the jet. “Want to sit down?”

You glanced back at him, already wondering if he was being purposeful in this location or not. You were now as far from the others as could be after all. And even from the bridge, the sailors wouldn’t be able to see you now beneath this jet.

He smirked, maybe knowingly even as he responded crassly. “What? These things are killing my armpits.”

You smiled, still wondering, but helped him sit down anyway as you set the crutches beside you before joining him.

“So you still live by the Capitol....” You continued, gently prodding to try and hear more about him.

“Yeah,” He snaked one arm around your waist. “Suburbs just outside of D.C. Still in my Mom’s basement, same as always.”

You did recall him joking about that on the ride to Egypt, about still living with his mother. But what kind of woman was she though? Bold enough to flee from Magneto to a whole new country to raise her children at least. “Is she...” You weren’t quite sure the polite way to ask. Or actually if you even should, but it was already out of your mouth, so you continued hesitantly. “Is she like us?”

“Nah. She’s not a mutant.” He responded easily. “But my sister is.”

You looked back to him at that. He hadn’t told you much about Wanda yet, besides the fact that they were twins and that maybe she’d had some struggles with depression. Which was so common for your kind as well as you tried to learn to accept yourselves and the world’s sometimes cruel view of you.

The reminder of him being a twin was of course fuel for your imagination too as you tried to picture what any twin sister of Peter’s could really be like.

But he was getting surprisingly good at reading your expressions it seemed as he just laughed. “No, Wanda’s not just a female version of me if that’s what you’re thinking. I doubt the world could handle that, right?”

“Probably not.” You admitted. Trying not to get distracted with the mental image of a much more feminine Peter zipping around.

When you felt him tug you closer to him, you came back to attention. His fingertips were messing with one pocket of your pants idly now.

“She’s way smarter. More powerful for sure.” He then continued after a moment, with a little more consideration. “A little scary too actually. A lot more like our Dad I guess.”

“More powerful than you?” You asked honestly. Of course his powers might not be as in your face as something like Scott’s eye beams, or Ororo’s lightning bolts and their destructive power. But he’d already impressed you, no question.

“Well yeah. I’m just a jerk that runs fast.” He replied, looking a little surprised by your sincere look. “You think that’s powerful?”

“Peter, you can practically stop time on a whim. That’s way more than just running fast.” And that was no exaggeration to you. There was no other way to explain how he’d cleared the whole mansion even faster than the explosion could take it.

“I mean it’s saved my ass a few times yeah.” He conceded. “But...” He quieted, still watching you.

That serious look had come into his eyes again, like a cloud crossing over the light. He wanted to say something more and couldn’t.

“What?” You finally asked gently. It was just the two of you now. “You can say whatever you want, Peter.”

It was so evident that he wasn’t yet used to the freedom of expression that many of the rest of you were. He hadn’t had those years worth of safety net within the school, getting to air your thoughts with one another as almost second nature after so long.

He took a breath before eventually trying though. “Well...when I first started figuring out what I could do, it was such a rush, definitely. I could skip class whenever, take anything I knew Mom couldn’t or wouldn’t buy me. The dickheads that used to try to push me around couldn’t even touch me anymore.”

Yet he shifted, some unease still building in him even as you just listened quietly. “But, eventually you realize the people who barely gave you any notice before, that then they can’t even see you at all any longer.”

He was looking in your eyes again, as if he was still waiting to see some judgement there, but he’d already said too much to stop now. He couldn’t reel it back in, even if he may have wanted to. “And when I got older, I finally started having these nightmares...that everything got stuck like that you know. More and more, that I was going to do it too long one day, too many times one day and everything was going to finally stick that way for good. That no one would ever hear or see me again. Like this super shitty purgatory, of frozen people all around, and you’re just some ghost moving through them.”

You were surprised at first, yes. But maybe not so much the more you really considered it. What he spoke of was a horrible fate to consider to be sure. But for someone you already knew could actually be very self conscious at his core, there was even another layer to it. Was it really that much of a stretch that he could also worry about feeling even more unseen? More invisible, to the point that that could be his life forever?

The flashy jackets and clothing tied in a bit more now to that overall profile you were putting together here. But it meant so much to you that he was willing to share this at all, when it clearly was something very deep for him.

“I still dream that sometimes.” He admitted. “Freaking sucks.” He raised his bare left wrist then, looking at it with some regret. “It’s normally why I always wear a watch too. If nobody’s around for me to judge what speed I’m moving at, I have to look at the second hand to make sure it’s still trying to move. Freaks me the hell out if I can’t check it.”

You knew he’d left all his other things in the jet when everyone had changed into those flight suits before heading to Egypt. And all that was gone now. “You are powerful.” You insisted softly though. “And I don’t think I’ve ever met one of us yet that didn’t fear losing control, of becoming a victim to our own abilities in the end...”

Without thinking you turned then, getting up on your knees so you could wrap your arms around him. You felt him tense only for a moment, surprised but then quickly accepting the tight hug for what it was as he relaxed into it.

You spoke into his ear as he slid his arms back around you in return. “You don’t have to hold any of these things in any longer either though. You’re with friends now.”

But when your grip eventually loosened, he just pulled you around so that you were then seated nearly in his lap before he hugged you around your waist again.

“But for how long?” He asked seriously. “You and the others will go back to New York won’t you once we’re back in the U.S.? And I’ll have to go back to D.C. to show Mom I’m not dead, I’m sure she’s tripping out right now.”

“Well...” You understood he’d certainly have to go home for at least a while. But the school would be rebuilt eventually. “Have you thought about, once the school is established again I mean, maybe joining us?”

That did get a slight chuckle from him. “I’m already a dropout, babe. I never even finished high school. Not really a good candidate for higher learning.”

But you weren’t so easily dissuaded. “It’s more than just math and science classes, Peter. The younger kids always need mentors. And there’s the chance of working with the Professor and the other staff too, learning to unlock your full potential. You don’t have to hold back there, or hide anymore.”

He caught you by the bottom of your chin then though, tilting your head back as he seemed to consider kissing you again. “You want me to come there then?”

“Yes.” You agreed, the word at least sounding confident despite your heart rate increasing again.

“And are we going to share a bunk again tonight?” He smirked, knowing full well he was now derailing a previously serious conversation.

“I guess that depends on you.” You tried to counter, but he really had too unfair of an advantage in how easily he could still fluster you. And you weren’t sure when that was ever going to fade.

You waited for him to continue the banter though. To do anything really. But for several long moments he only watched you instead.

“Well?” He finally said.

“Well what?” You answered.

“You want to make out under this fighter jet before they call off mutant recess? The bell’s probably going to ring soon to send us all back to being out of sight, out of mind on the U.S.S buzzkill.”

Sometimes you wondered if he was actually the older of you two at all. “Don’t enjoy your own jokes too much now. You know what Xavier said about you transmitting your thoughts.” You were at least able to taunt back a little.

“Ah, he’s all about that CIA chick right now. I mean, more power to him, nothing wrong with it. She seemed pretty badass. But he should have just taken the compliment earlier instead of trying to drag me about it. But not bad for an old dude you know? Especially now that he looks a little more like Mr. Clean.”

“Peter.” The Professor wasn’t even that old, but it was by and large beside the point. “You’re trying to make me kiss you again so that you’ll stop talking aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” He grinned. “But hey, I never thought I’d get this far, I’m going to enjoy this every chance we get.”

The newness hadn’t worn off at all, that much was true. But wouldn’t it eventually? And would he still think so much of you then? You couldn’t know the answer to that.

It was probably best to actually agree with his viewpoint for the time being. To just appreciate the chances given in the here and now. None of you could know what the future had in store for anyone or anything, not anymore.

You were already right in front of him as you ran your fingers along the back of his neck. You held him there briefly, then pulling him in to initiate the first kiss, before he met you eagerly with another.

One of your hands stayed in his hair, the other splayed down onto his chest. After a moment, you realized you could feel his own heartbeat through the thin t-shirt. So very fast, like everything else about him before you felt him grabbing at your hips.

He was trying to get you pulled more into his lap as he shifted his legs to make room. You let him, but there was something slightly funny as you still had to help to not knock into his broken leg when he had trouble moving it in the way he really wanted.

But he could feel your smile against his lips. He pulled back enough to respond, your foreheads touching. “You just wait until that damn thing is off. I’ll be ten times as suave then.”

“I’m not complaining.” You laughed softly. Maybe even a little glad that he did have that handicap to slow him down right now. Though you quieted again when you felt him move down to nip at your neck, before he kissed it a little more roughly.

When you tensed a little, he paused. You could hear the tease in his voice. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave any hickies. Scout’s honor.” He knew you still cared about appearances to some degree, that and the privacy to not show off all of what you’d done in front of the others. “But you ever had one?” He asked anyway.

“No.” You answered without hesitation. You didn’t feel any need to pretend with him.

He pulled back a little again at that though, enough that you could look at each other and you wondered if he was finding this hard to believe.

“But you’ve had boyfriends right?” He asked, before considering a little more. “Or maybe girlfriends? I mean, I’m cool with either just for the record. We get discriminated on enough as it is to bother being worried about what side of the fence anybody is playing on.” He smiled, rubbing his hand down your side. “If I’m going to like someone, I’m going to like them for them. Everything else is just bonus.”

You’d never really thought about it to be honest. If you were attracted to someone, you just were. But it sounded like he was of similar thinking, which was nice. “I haven’t really had anybody.” You answered. “I’ve been at the school since I was pretty young. And you just end up seeing them all as family I guess.”

His eyebrows raised and he hesitated a while, before finally speaking again a little bit carefully. “So...please don’t punch me, but um, does that mean you haven’t...you know?” He didn’t seem like he could say it. Or that maybe he was actually afraid of offending you all of the sudden. Which would be a first.

But just because you were inexperienced, that didn’t mean you were naive. And it was awkward, but not frightening. You weren’t afraid to talk to him this way. “I haven’t had sex, no.” You responded plainly, but did have a little concern on him possibly panicking as you made sure to clarify. “And I’m not a minor. This would have been my senior year and then some I guess if you compare our class levels to normal high school grades.” But Xavier’s school was still a little different. “Or maybe it’d be more like freshman year of college.”

Peter took a breath. “I mean, yeah I figured you were legal. Good to confirm, but um, you realize this means you have no idea if you should have waited for someone better or not?”

He was getting self conscious again. You’d already been through this before. Where he acted as if you were making a mistake just to choose him. You tried to turn this back around. “It doesn’t matter to me who you’ve already been with. And yes, I might be inexperienced, but you’ve got to trust me that I’m capable of choosing who I want now.”

You could still sense him wavering, but he at least didn’t lock up to the point of not answering. He was trying to fall back on a little humor, his go to. “Well it’s not like I’ve been all around either. It was really just one, but you know, a good bit of practice there.” Though as soon as he said it that way, he seemed to regret it, trying to explain further. “I mean, she didn’t give two shits about me in the end. I thought she did. But I didn’t use her, it was more the other way around. At least in my view.”

You quieted, that new spill of information you felt signaling a much deeper story under the surface. And he seemed really nervous as if he hadn’t intended to bring up this subject at all. “It’s okay.” You answered quickly. “Like I said, the past is the past. It doesn’t affect what I feel about you. But if you want to get something else off your chest right now, my time is yours.”

And he did want to talk. You could tell he did. Like this was something he never could speak of normally. He seemed surprised at his own self as the name finally did come out. “Her name was Crystal.” But he still tightened his grip on you even as he kept on. “Back when I was still in high school outside D.C., she’d started there. Her family was always moving, I don’t know why. But I guess because she was new she didn’t know the whole hierarchy shit, where I was on the bottom with the other weirdos always in detention. And she figured out I had powers, she did too. I’d never met anyone my age that did. We started hanging out, and before you know it I’d be speeding to her house and all at night. My Mom never knew. Wanda did, but I think she saw the fuck up coming and decided to let me figure it out for myself.”

You felt no jealousy to the confession. Genuinely you were only listening, knowing these details only gave you a more complete picture of him. Who he was now and why.

“I’d never gotten attention like that before you know? You start thinking it’s real and you get carried away. And I’m not saying she was manipulative or any stupid crap like that. She wasn’t. She just wanted to fool around with somebody, wanted to feel good. But it probably shouldn’t have been with me is what I mean. Not for that long anyway just to cut me off at the knees when she was ready to move on again.”

So she’d just wanted a physical relationship. While Peter had misunderstood it to be more, and had had to suffer for it when the truth finally showed. You could understand how that would be extremely painful. Especially if it was the first real intimacy he’d ever had.

He kept on though, likely something very cathartic in finally getting to let go of all this. “And we had a huge blow up in the end. When she’d started sleeping with someone else. I probably said some stuff I shouldn’t have, I mean she was never mine to be mad about I guess. But she was no pushover. She told me to fuck right off, and I never went back. I quit going to school and they moved away again eventually. So that was the end of that.”

Then that was likely the real reason he never finished school you realized, not just because of boredom with it or any lack of ability on his own part. It was sad, but you didn’t see him as anyone to be pitied. He’d survived that negative experience to still be here with you now.

And you couldn’t take those old scars away, but you could at least make sure you didn’t leave any room for miscommunication now. You could let him know exactly what he had in you, to take or leave as he wished. Because nothing could work here either unless you both were on the same page.

“Well I can tell you that you will never just be a hookup for me. I mean, yes, I might not be as satisfying I guess, not knowing all about this. But, I’m attracted to you. Not your body, not your powers, just you. I want to be together until you decide otherwise.” You smiled, calling back a bit to his words in Egypt. “Together exclusively until I annoy you or you get bored of me.”

He laughed, unable to help himself. “And I still don’t deserve it.” He insisted, but agreed anyway. “Exclusive is good, no other guys or girls. Just us annoying the hell out of each other until the end.” He then nuzzled his head back against your neck, continuing. “I’ll be slightly more behaved too I guess. Now that I know it’ll be your first time, it can’t just be in an aircraft carrier broom closet or some crap after all. I’ll try to think of something a little more romantic in the meantime.”

“Gee thanks.” You smirked, before kissing him lightly again. There was still oh so much trouble to look forward to it sounded like.

He leaned into the kiss, trying to taste you as much as you’d let him. But you thought you could still feel him smiling a little too, before another sound went off in your brains.

“All of you, they’re asking us to clear the flight deck as they have a pair of helicopters trying to come back in from patrol.” The Professor’s voice was a bit impersonal, the way it could be when he was essentially copying the same message to multiple minds one after the other.

“And that would be the bell,” Peter sighed. “Recess over.”

You were a little disappointed too, but there was still tonight after all. “There’s still the bunk later,” You reminded at that, standing up and offering him your hand.

He grabbed it, quickly pulling himself up before leaning in to kiss you one more time. “That a promise?”

“Maybe.” You answered, handing him his crutches.

“Tease.” He countered with a smirk, before you both started walking back towards the others.

It’d be one more night in close quarters, and then on to the long trip home tomorrow.

——————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

#quicksilver x oc #quicksilver x y/n #quicksilver x you #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver #peter maximoff x oc #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff #x men #xmen #xmen fanfiction #xmen fic

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rufousnmacska · 3 years

Note

Do you think Aelin used Dorian?

In COM, when Aelin and Dorian had an argument about how Dorian was hanging hanging out with Roland, Dorian said something along the lines of "what do you care? The only reason you are kings champion is because you used me.". Aaaaand in typical toxic fae fashion, she growled at him instead of responding.

I mean, it certainly didn't hurt having the Crown Prince in her back pocket, during the contest. So it leads me to believe that she did use him. (Knowingly or unknowingly).

Tbh, i really don't think she was all that of a good friend to him.

1. When the stopped seeing each other, she went behind his back and slept with his best friend (if that happened irl I would cut a bitch off for doing that).

2. Completely ignored him in COM

3. Didn't even think of him in HOF

4. Only "saved" him because Chaol begged her to. Manon, added to his own inner strength, saved him.

5. Disrespected him in EOS, pretty much disregarded his opinion. That gave room for Aedion to Disrespect him.

6. Completely ignored him, when he was grieving over Sorscha.

7. Was unsupportive when he was moving on with Manon.

Wow. 😮

It’s been a while since I’ve read all the tog books, especially the first two. I tend to start with book three on rereads because Manon. 🙂

In Tog, Dorian and Celaena were both initially using each other. I think it’s contained in an extra you can find online (or maybe it is in ToG), but Dorian is pretty clear about using her as a means of pissing off his father and trying to show he could play these political games too. And she’s using him to gain her freedom. But as time went on, I think their friendship was genuine and they had some cute moments. I was bothered by her treatment of him in CoM. Not because she ended up with Chaol but because she wasn’t able to see Dorian as just a friend and treat him as such. Even after he lets her go. But remember, while they were all pretty young, Celaena was the least experienced and new to relationships, both romantic and platonic. I think by the end she and Dorian had grown and settled into a stronger friendship.

I think it’s reasonable that she didn’t consider Dorian much in HoF. That was her healing arc book and she had bigger issues to work through. He wasn’t really a problem in her life. Not like Chaol. Or her identity and past. So it makes sense to me that Dorian wasn’t front and center in her mind.

In QoS, I found Aelin pretty annoying overall. Chaol too, though that opinion seems to be pretty popular. On the one hand, I think Aelin was thinking as a queen and not a friend when it came to Dorian. And I can understand that, if not personally agree with it. She also was trying to keep herself from being hurt. She saw killing Dorian as a mercy to him, but also herself. Cut her losses now as a type of self protection. Regardless, her being so quick to give up on him really bothered me, even if I could see how it made sense for her character to react that way. I thought their talk at the end was good, but too short, and therefore lacking. SJM could’ve done a lot more with that reunion. Especially considering Aelin’s history with Sam, and that the main trio aren’t together again until towards the end of KoA.

EoS was … weird to me. Aelin seemed like she didn’t care about Dorian at all beyond his role as an ally. She was often condescending and disregarded his opinions. I’m not sure why. I know she was under a lot of pressure, some of it self imposed. And again, there were times she was in queen mode, but not all the time. So yeah, that bothered me a lot. And her reasoning wasn’t as clear to me as it was in QoS. It put the Dorian-Manon interactions into a brighter spotlight though, as Manon was one of the few people who respected what Dorian had to say. (Rowan was the other.) Maybe that was what SJM was trying to do?? Bring Dorian and Manon closer by separating him from Aelin? I don’t know. I appreciated the Manorian stuff, but it didn’t need to be done at the expense of Dorian and Aelin’s friendship in my opinion.

By the time KoA comes around, they honestly don’t feel like good friends to me anymore. That’s largely because they don’t see each other until almost the end and their reunion is rushed. Instead of him reconnecting with Aelin and Chaol, we get everyone arguing about who will die to lock the gate and why it should be Dorian. I’m exaggerating. A little. But seriously, by the end of KoA, I felt like their friendship, which had been mostly well handled in the early books, was just something that was there. I know there were a lot of loose threads to tie off in KoA, but that relationship was really tossed aside in my opinion.

Overall I think you could argue that Aelin had a bigger impact on Dorian’s character arc than the other way around. Not that he wasn’t important to her growth. But she was a big first step to get him to reject his father. Sorscha was step two. From there, he needed to learn how to accept and respect himself. That’s where Manon played a big role. As for Aelin, Dorian helped teach her about friendship and trust and acceptance. But I don’t know that he was as crucial a breakthrough for her arc. All of that is my way of explaining why, even in the books where they weren’t together, Dorian seemed to spend more time thinking about Aelin than she did of him. I wouldn’t say that means their friendship was unbalanced, just that SJM used them differently in the other’s character development.

I hope that makes sense! It’s late where I am so my brain is starting to close down for the night. 🙂

(PS - I may not be taking Manorian fic requests right now but I love talking about them. So feel free to send in asks or private messages!)

#dorian havilliard #manon blackbeak #aelin galathinius #rowan whitethorn #manorian #throne of glass #@mrstrafalgardshanks

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pridewhatpride · 3 years

Note

omg pls talk more about GX rival shipping once the transfer students come

Dear anon, I love you for asking this of me, but I have to wonder if you want everyone who follows me to start hating me.

Long post coming up? You know it. I apologise to all Johan fans, he's great and I loved him and his deck as a child. Now I'm just salty because he's too perfect. Warning because this is a mess of unrequited feelings and it's an all around bad time if you ship anything in gx. I did mention I do not practice self care in a previous post of mine. Enjoy your pain c:

So here are my bad takes of the day, under the very handy cut!

You see, gx rivalshipping becomes a lot more complicated and angsty when the transfer students arrive. The dynamic changes. If there is a dynamic at all. I mean, imagine yourself in Manjoume's shoes. You've lowkey had a crush on this dumb guy who kind of ruined your life (but actually improved it and freed you from the restraints your family imposed on you), just to watch a handsome scandinavian dude who is a lot more muscular than you are and maybe a little bit nicer, maybe just waltz in and completely captivate said dumb guy's attention. Just when you had managed to admit your own feelings to yourself.

Johan comes in and steals the room, everybody loves him, he's good looking, charismatic, kind and has a magical exclusive shiny sparkling deck at his disposal that he uses as if it was the most natural thing in the world, like he hadn't received approval Pegasus himself on top of the duel spirits. And Judai clearly can't get enough of it, because he's always seeking him out, ever since the duel they had in front of everyone, and Manjoume finds that he's really annoyed by it. He wishes he'd been chosen for the demonstration, deluding himself into believing that if he'd won, Judai would have never started caring so damn much about Johan. But a part of him knows he would have probably lost and that even if he hadn't, Judai would have not cared about the outcome at all. It's nice to think that winning a card game can solve all your problems, but, while Manjoume has only ever experienced how much losing one can mess with your life goals, he isn't stupid enough to think that winning would grant him happiness. Not anymore. No well-thought-out strategy can rid him of his bad temper and his worthless pride.

The thing is, he can't really hate Johan, because nobody can hate Johan. He's just the perfect picture of everything Manjoume isn't and, going by everyone's reaction, the fact that 'everyone is unique in their own way and worthy of love' is absolute bullshit. There clearly is an objective better one of the two and Manjoume is very aware that he isn't it. And he'd probably begrundgingly be cool with it, after all he'd accepted that Jaden was braver than him, that Asuka was emotionally stronger and more resolute, that Daichi was smarter, not to mention how much plain better than him his fomer upperclassmen were. Forget about pros like Edo, whom Judai had stood on equal grounds with. But Judai is clearly playing favourites, too, hell, he hardly even acknowledges Manjoume.

He finds himself forcibly removed from his already shaky position as rival, because now Johan is there to take it up, on top of the titles of 'best friend' and 'emotional support and crutch' and 'maybe something else I'd really rather not know'.

Manjoume just generally hates it all. He might have changed and improved himself, but there is no saving him from the fact that some people were just better. That doesn't stop him from trying. But again he finds himself pitted against Judai, the irony of his fate never giving him a moment to rest. Manipulated and turned into the enemy of those he cares about, again.

A part of him despises how good it feels to learn that Johan has gone missing, but Judai is screaming like his arms have been torn off and while he hates that it's all for Johan, he hates that Judai is in pain even more. Judai had saved him before and it's only right for him to return the favour. So he insists on helping him on his stupidly risky plan to save Johan. And it's all to get the old Judai back.

...The rest, from Manjoume's perspective is a mess. His feelings of anger stem from the hatred he harbours towards himself and the bond between Judai and Johan. He'd been trying to help, he had, he sincerely had, but everything just swirled together and the next thing he knows is that he is shouting at Judai because it suddenly made sense to guilt trip him over the fact that he'd abandoned his friends, he'd abandoned him as soon as someone better had come into the picture. And it was Judai's fault for letting them- him believe that he cared when he didn't, when he couldn't have cared less, because clearly he had one priority only and that was Johan. They had come to help and it still wasn't being appreciated.

Disappearing is a relief, for a moment, but then he finds himself in another hellish place and he can't help but think that it's retribution for being so upset over something that has nothing to do with him. That's right. It's his own fault for making Judai, his only real friend (aside from Fubuki, sorry for breaking the immersion, but I love Fubuki), carry the burden of the stupid hopes that came with his feelings. Judai has no fault. Johan has no fault. It's his own for desiring something that would always be out of reach.

As he is tortured by his own thoughts and regrets in the other dimension, Manjoume silently wishes his words meant nothing to Judai, that he'd be spared the pain of betrayal. He wishes Judai can achieve his goal.

When Shou appears to him, he knows there is no time to waste. If he is alive, the others are, too. Judai would want to know that they are safe. So he asks Shou to carry his message, along with his good luck wish. He hopes it's enough to make up for his mistakes.

Next thing he knows, they are back at DA, Judai is nowhere to be seen. Manjoume mourns the loss of his first and only friend and curses himself for tarnishing that memory. (Judai's return and season 4 would be too much to cover, this was only Manjoume's pov and I might as well just rewrite the entire show at this point.)

So what about Judai?

I personally want to believe that he genuinely does like Manjoume at some point. But as much as it pains me to admit it, season 3 just wrote Manjoume off from the list of main characters and relegated him to 'he's your funny comic relief, nobody really gives a shit about what he thinks or feels, so why should you, the spectator who has grown to love him, care at all? Also here's his sticker that confirms that Judai going after Johan makes him really angry for some reason, make of that what you will c:' (fuck the writing staff, I'm not even sorry).

Judai is so clearly smitten with Johan. It seems to me that his refusal to accept Manjoume's help that one time on the cliff shows that Judai doesn't really understand the way Jun operates. He probably labeled him as just someone else who counted on him to be saved. And sure, Manjoume is saved by Judai in multiple occasions, but he doesn't ever really... ask for it? Or more importantly expect it. He doesn't get himself into situations he can't handle because Judai can save him anyways, the trouble just kind of happens at him and more often than not he's only involved by accident, because he happens to be close to Judai.

The problem still stands, as season 3 starts, Judai is very much burdened by everyone's expectations and Johan is a breath of fresh air and the only one Judai actually considers a friend and an equal. It's heartbreaking that he felt that alone.

They get their gay 'have we met somewhere before moment', they duel gaily, they homoerotically tell eachother how admirable the other is, they shamelessly flirt and whoohoo Judai has an unofficial boyfriend and who can blame him for concentrating on him along with wanting to escape the pressure his former gang unknowingly laid on him.

But yeah, Judai in season 3 has a one track mind and it's hard not to see it as romantic. Does he know it is? Maybe? I honestly don't know. I feel like Johan is the one of the two who is aware of the implications of their interactions. Which also kind of brings me to say... does Johan think that all of Judai's friends are horrible people? Because he never once comments on how Judai distances himself from them once he arrives. He probably thinks they were never good friends in the first place.

Judai probably excuses his attentions towards Johan with the fact that they are alike because they can see spirits, but then he rememebers that so can Manjoume and maybe he feels guilty for a second, but Johan cracks a joke and Judai laughs and thinks to himself that Manjoume is probably happy to have the peace and quiet he so often claimed to want.

Like... I think a part of him would get that tightness in his chest because it's like he's betrayed someone, but he knows he hasn't, because there isn't any actual mutual agreement he's going against. So he lets himself fall deeper into the comfort of Johan's presence. Johan is, to Judai, the ideal person. He is exactly who Judai wants to become. Judai admires him very deeply and strives to be more like him, but he falls gradually into despair as he learns, once Johan is gone, that no, he can't be like him, because Johan is so much better than him, and if he doesn't get him back soon he might even forget what he was like in the first place. Johan can't be erased, can't be forgotten. And Judai feels like he's vanishing already, so he throws himself into a wild interdimensional manhunt to save his hopes for the future.

Turns out that wanting to do good doens't always result in a good outcome. That's what Judai learns when Manjoume lashes out at him just seconds before disappearing. Along with the others, too. Judai doesn't even have the brain power to compute that some people are still there, that he can still save someone, because he realised then that he had focused so much on Johan that he'd completely overlooked the fact that while his friends relied on him a little too much, they hadn't meant any harm. And if he'd just told them, maybe they would have been fine, they could've cooperated- but Manjoume had told him that he was a traitor, that he'd doomed them with his irrational behaviour.

Manjoume's last words to him had been spoken with hatred and Judai realised only then that he had misread him entirely. He lets despair and self hatred take over as he realises that if he had managed to hurt the ones he cared about so easily, discarding them for the new good thing, he could just keep doing that. And it would stop hurting, eventually.

I like to think that Manjoume really does have an impact on the awakening of the Supreme King. Yeah, I know he only turns once Johan's death is mentioned, I know. I just suffer from abandonment issues and can't stand that Manjoume dying in front of him is more impactful to Judai than a guy who literally can't be trusted saying "Joke's on you, the one you're looking for is in another castle already dead."

So yeah. That's the angsty overview.

TL;DR Johan is an Adonis, Judai is smitten and Manjoume is very very heartbroken. But actually so is Judai. Because while being with Johan feels right, there's someone whose absence feels wrong, but he doesn't allow himself to dwell on it and everything goes to shit. All around a bad time for everyone and they'll have a lot of talking to do once they properly reconcile after graduation.

#blame anon not me #i advise you don't read this even if i spent actual hours on this #projection time #ygo #yugioh #ýgo gx #yugioh gx #judai yuki #yuki judai #jaden yuki #manjoume jun #jun manjoume #chazz princeton #gx rivalshipping #mentions of spiritshipping #like it's basically canon in the show no way around it #ulri doesn't like johan and it's time to get cancelled for it #enjoy your pain anon #i'm legit so fucking sorry

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twistedtranslations · 4 years

Text

Idia Shroud - I can’t

You can unlock this story by getting Idia’s SR Ceremony outfit

Translation under the cut

TL notes

Q.E.D. is a manga where the main character gets roped into various detective cases by his friend and only solves them because they asked.

Idia calls others with the -shi suffix, which can be translated as Mr. but I left that out.

Ignihyde Dorm - Idia's room

Idia: Sigh… I can't do it after all… Why did I make that nonsensical promise with Ortho to appear at the entrance ceremony… No, it's because I'm weak to Ortho's requests, I know, I know, I’m almost like that Q.E.D. guy… But I shouldn't be!

Idia: There's no way that a shut-in like me will suddenly show up at a big event like the entrance ceremony where all the students gather! Y-Y-Yet I'm the dorm leader…?! Just thinking of everyone watching me… Ugh. I'm feeling extremely dizzy. I'm getting a stomachache. I'm totally feeling sick right now, oh no, guess I gotta call in sick;

*Knocking*

Ortho: Brother?

Idia: Ack! … O-Ortho. Is there something?

Ortho: I'm going to the sports field for a bit. There's only one week left until the entrance ceremony, so I quickly have to get used to my new body!

Idia: O-Okay. Have a safe trip. Don't stay out too late.

Ortho: Okay~

Idia: He's so cheerful… Does the entrance ceremony make him that happy? If I were to tell him that I’ll skip out on the entrance ceremony because it’s too harsh for mr, he'll surely be disappointed… What should I do…

*Knocking*

Idia: O-oh!? O-Ortho, is that you!?

Riddle: Idia, it's me, Riddle Rosehearts from Heartslabyul.

Idia: R-R-Riddle?! W-Why are you at Ignihyde?

Riddle: Because the principal asked me. I will bring you to the dorm leader meeting for the ceremony, even if I have to collar you… understand? Good grief, the entrance ceremony is so close, yet you have not even shown your face once during the preparations. The only ones who have not come to the meeting are you and Malleus. Please hurry and come.

Idia: I…

Riddle: I?

Idia: I can't.

Riddle: … Huh? You can't? What do you mean? You are in good health, are you not?

Idia: N-No, Ortho isn't here now… talking face to face with you guys… and then the meeting… I definitely can't do it!

Riddle: Stop making excuses… you are a dorm leader. You should not be so lenient on yourself. It is not like I have free time either. Hurry and go, and open the door!

Idia: I, I-I don't want to! I-It's not like I wanted to become the dorm leader!

Riddle: You are being irresponsible. Once you put in charge, it is only natural that you perform your role, no matter the reason.

Idia: Argh… there it is, oh there it is, "It's only natural"~ There they impose their sense of values upon me again.

Riddle: You are always so irritating! Did I say something wrong?! You are an being inconvenient to everyone. You could have the decency to at least help prepare for the entrance ceremony…

Idia: Oof, there it is, the ultimate magic "Everyone"… Using peer pressure to erase the individual, being looked down upon by the common opinion so you can't see the truth. The youth of today that knows no autonomy, it's truly frightening, I sympathize with the future of Twisted Wonderland.

Riddle: Hn, Hngh…. You cannot even talk to someone's face… The only reason you can use these big words is because this door separates us! I always thought this, but a person like you who loves agitating others corrupts the public morals of this school. More than anything, you displease me. Now stop your fast-talking!

Idia: Huh, why are you the one blowing up in my face… scary… I don't understand what you're trying to accomplish…

Riddle: Hngh! I said it is because you displease me! An incompetent dorm leader like you should not command me around!

Idia: I have a reserved and restrained personality, unlike you attention seeker…

Riddle: … What did you just say?

Idia: Ack… A-Anyway, please leave me alone! I was doing fine like this even before you entered the school.

Riddle: I see, I see. So that's how it is. It must have been awfully easy, was it not? Then why don't you have Ortho Shroud do everything so you don't have to lift a finger!

Idia: Eh?

Riddle: You won't have to attend the meeting, you won't have to prepare for the ceremony, neither will you have to deal with the visitors, you can just leave everything to that robot. In any case, you had no intention of attending the entrance ceremony at all, right? Can it be that you were planning to leave the speech to him as well? How pathetic, being forced to work by the irresponsible dorm leader!

Idia: Huh? I never said I wasn't going to the entrance ceremony? Stop making assumptions? I'm going to this entrance ceremony!

Riddle: Perhaps you should stop bragging about common sense? It seems I have made a terrible fool of myself. Can I expect a moving speech from you?

Idia: Piece of cake.

Riddle: Hm. Then I shall grasp my handkerchief and look forward to it!

Idia: … … …Am I not the fool?! "I'm going to this entrance ceremony"…. I don't want to! I can't! Shitshitshitshit… what to do…

Chapter 2

Mirror Chamber The day of the entrance ceremony

Idia: I-I somehow made it to the mirrors… I can do this. I will do this. Using self-suggestion is important. … …Hn… A, Aah… I can't! It's too scary! If I enter everyone will stare at me anyway?! And then they'll start whispering about me! "Who's that?" "Does he not get burned by his hair?" "Isn't he from the cursed Shroud family…" "His anxiety might be contagious" and things like that… Or maybe they'll start poking me with a stick while saying that I'm gross for being blue all over…! I don't want that! Someone save me! …No this is useless. I should calm down at once. I want to go to a quiet place without people to cool my head… Ah, if Ortho was here, he could encourage me. Where did he go…

Courtyard

Idia: If only I didn’t fight with Riddle... And if I didn’t give Ortho false hope. What should I do now...

???: Is that Shroud I hear?

Idia: Hah?!

Malleus: So it is. How unusual.

Idia: M-Malleus…Why are you here?

Malleus: You mean since when? Hehe, I do not recollect seeing you since you became the dorm leader.

Idia: Malleus Draconia… The next ruler of the Valley of Thorns, the dorm leader of Diasomnia! Why is the Ultra SSR Character that is supposed to play the leading role in the ceremony here!?

Malleus: But to see you outside. What are you doing here?

Idia: Ah… I-I thought I would get some fresh air… just like you.

Malleus: I see, just like me. I understand, you needed a distraction.

Idia: A distraction?_

Malleus: Hm? You want a distraction, right? Looking at the scenery, feeling the atmosphere. Thinking about whatever. Relaxing.

Idia: Relaxing!? I-I can’t get even more anxious!

Malleus: Is that so? Then you should enjoy yourself more.

Idia: Enjoy myself!? …That's where I and you differ.

Malleus: Hm? What do you mean?

Idia: A, Ah, no… It's nothing. … But… But I made a promise with Ortho. I would wear these clothes and come today. That's why… Aah, but it's too scary…!

Malleus: By the way, why are you wearing those clothes?

Idia: Huh?

Malleus: Hm?

Idia: Uhm. Do you mean… they don't fit me? I, I-I, I… look strange after all.

Malleus: Hm. It's not like they don't fit you… but I have my questions. Actually, if you say it's strange, it might be strange.

Idia: Urgh…

Malleus: First of all, why did you promise to "go out" like this? It doesn't seem like a big deal.

Idia: I-It might not be a big deal for you, but for me…!

Malleus: Humans are sometimes awfully inconceivable. Oh well, that's interesting about them.

Idia: Inconceivable…

Malleus: No, I didn't mean to make fun of you. I'm very interested.

Idia: So… it's like this after all huh, I see what you're getting at! So you think I'm not capable of donning these beautiful clothes and appearing before a lot of people! Isn't that what you wanted to get at from the start?_ No matter how much I struggle, it's already confirmed that I'm on the dark route towards multiple bad endings, so it's useless. I-I, I-I-I, I'm…I'm…!

Malleus: Shroud? What happened?

Idia:… Ugh, it's nothing! It doesn’t matter!

Malleus: And there he went. What an awfully strange man. To think he wore his ceremony robes for a simple stroll. … But it has been very noisy since this morning. I wonder if something is happening…

Mirror Chamber

Idia (Tablet): Students of Ignihyde, please gather here…

Riddle: Heh. He did not come even after I gave him a good scolding… he is incompetent, after all. I worry for the students that have a dorm leader this unreliable. They have my most sincere sympathies.

Vil: Hah… he did it.

Ignihyde Dorm - Idia's room

Idia: It seems that the outdoors has nothing but events that torment me… I should just confine myself and shut out all those useless earthly sounds! From the start, I differed from people like Malleus and other humans who have something I don't. How could I ever forget that.

Idia: … Hm? But isn't this great? I noticed I couldn’t do it, before I went and made an enormous embarrassment of myself in front of the students…

Idia: I see… I'm sure Ortho didn't want to expose everyone to his big brother's shameful sight. This is the best! Why, am I simply not the best! Didn’t I just auto-play myself into the best route~

Idia: Ortho is probably fully enjoying the entrance ceremony by himself right now. He was looking so much forward to it, after all. This is the best. … It really is.

#twisted wonderland #idia shroud #riddle rosehearts #malleus draconia #ortho shroud #vil schoenheit #personal story #translation

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tonystarkstan · 4 years

Text

Peter doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at the wall. Distantly, he wonders what he must look like, knees curled into his chest and arms wrapped tightly around them in a hug, as if it’s any kind of replacement for someone else’s arms.

(It’s not.)

Things have been hectic lately. May has been forced into working longer hours at the hospital, so Peter’s staying at the cabin with Tony for two weeks. But not two days later, Morgan came down with the flu, which means they’ve spent most of their days trying to both comfort and entertain a sick child.

Despite how much he loves being with Tony and Morgan, Peter hates being away from May for too long, the previous years’ war leaving its scar on him in the form of PTSD and gut-wrenching anxiety that he’s going to turn around, and everyone he loves will be gone.

He vaguely remembers taking out his phone to text his group chat with MJ and Ned, but then they’d snapped him a picture of them laughing and baking cookies in Ned’s kitchen, and loneliness crawled through the spaces between his ribs and curled up in his lungs, and he closed the chat before he could press send.

Part of him knows that his loneliness is his fault. It’s self-imposed. But, he argues to himself, it’s for a good reason. May is under too much stress, and she doesn’t need to worry about how he’s doing when she already spends all day taking care of other people. God knows she needs time to breathe and take care of herself.

And he certainly doesn’t want to ruin Ned and MJ’s good time with his somber mood, so texting them is out of the question, he’s decided. Besides, MJ’s been dealing with enough shit from her parents recently that she deserves time to just let loose with her friend and have fun.

And Tony. Tony’s always there for Peter. He’s the one who helped Peter back to his feet, both on the battle field after Thanos and the one inside his head that followed it all. Morgan’s the one who needs Tony now.

The truth rises in his throat, blocky and bitter: people like him are exhausting. Draining and tiring. And eventually, it gets old. It gets boring. He’s used up all his Bad Brain cards and no one wants to deal with them anymore. No one should have to.

(But God, he’d like a hug. He would really, really like a hug and for someone to tell him that everything is going to be okay.)

He feels so heavy. He can’t imagine how heavy he must feel to everyone else.

So he curls up on his bed and stares at walls and gives himself hugs, because just because he’s stuck with himself, it doesn’t mean everyone else has to be.

Peter is so frozen, so paralyzed by the loneliness crawling up his spine that he doesn’t even hear his bedroom door open.

“Kid?” Tony whispers, and Peter squints at the light from the hallway that spills into his room. “Were you sleeping with your eyes open? Because Rhodey had a roommate in college who sometimes did that, and it was creepy as all hell.”

Peter just blinks at him, trying to pull himself up and out of the dark cave of thoughts he’d let flood his mind. He sees Tony frown and quietly close the door behind him before crossing the room and sitting on the edge of Peter’s bed.

“Peter. You good?” he asks seriously, and Peter takes a moment to remind himself that he’s an exhausting person and Tony is already exhausted before he answers.

“Yeah, I - I just can’t sleep,” Peter tells him, giving a half-truth. Tony hums, squinting through the darkness to study him for a moment.

“You know, I’ve really appreciated all your help with Morgan for the last week and half,” Tony says. “I’m not sure I’ve thanked you yet.”

“You don’t need to,” Peter protests immediately, and Tony smiles softly.

“Hush. You keep her entertained better than I can most of the time. It’s made her lot less miserable and therefore me a lot less miserable, especially with Pepper stuck in the city.”

Peter just nods. “Glad I could help then.”

For a moment, neither of them say anything. Peter thinks that maybe he’s about to leave, but then Tony says, “Alright, kid, spill. You haven’t been yourself these past few days. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Peter tries not to let surprise show on his face, but Tony reads it anyway and huffs.

“Oh, come on, give me a little more credit, bud.”

The teen offers him a small, sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

“Ah ha!” Tony says triumphantly, before quickly sobering. “So there is something wrong.”

Peter sighs, unfolding his legs and rolling onto his back to stare up at the ceiling and avoid Tony’s gaze.

“I just don’t feel good,” he says in a small voice, wincing at how childish it sounds spilling from his lips. Immediately, Tony shifts, sitting with his back against the headboard and Peter’s head resting next to him, hand soothingly stroking through his curls in a show of comfort.

“Can you elaborate?” Tony prompts gently, and Peter swallows thickly around the guilt stuck in his throat.

Why can’t I just be fucking okay? Why is it so fucking hard? The thoughts cause frustrated tears to spring to Peter’s eyes, and he clenches his fists into the sheets, angry at himself.

Alarmed, Tony quickly says, “Hey, hey. Pete, it’s okay. Just breathe for me. You’re okay.”

Peter blinks rapidly, willing the tears away, but they don’t go. And loneliness and sadness and every other disgusting thing sloshing through his veins and creeping in his bones rushes to his throat and tears through his teeth before he can stops it.

“I’m tired,” he bursts out, voice cracking on the word. “I’m fucking tired of feeling like this and I’m tired of being heavy and I’m tired of making other people carry it, and I’m so fucking tired of needing people to help make me better. I just want to wake up and say, ‘Alright, I’m better,’ and for that to be that. I’m tired of stressing everyone out, I’m tired of being this... this parasitic thing -”

He cuts himself off, jaw snapping shut as he realizes how much he just revealed. He turns away from Tony. Ironic, he thinks to himself. I’m rambling about how much I don’t want to worry him, and I’m only serving to worry him further. Nice one, Peter.

“Peter,” Tony breathes out, sad and horrified. “Kid, no.”

Peter feels a hand gently reach and out and turn him, and he reluctantly follows, still not looking his mentor in the eye.

“Look at me,” Tony says gently albeit firmly, and he waits patiently as Peter looks up at him. “Peter, did you notice that every time you referred to your mental illness, you were referring to how it affected other people? Not how it affected you.”

Peter pauses for a moment, not sure exactly where Tony is going with this.

“Kid, no one wants you to be better for the sake of us. We want to see you happy for your sake. And we know it’s a process. Hell, it took decades for me to get healthy, and I still find myself needing to go to Rhodey sometimes,” Tony admits. “And that’s okay. No is tired of you or whatever lies your Sick Brain’s trying to tell you. We worry about you because we love you. It’s not a chore.”

And oh.

“I... I just want to be better,” Peter says quietly, and Tony makes a noise of understanding.

“And I get that. God, I get that. But you can’t put pressure on yourself for it. You can’t give it a timeline. And you certainly can’t close yourself off to all the people who want to help you,” Tony tells him, nudging him affectionately, and nods, fidgeting with the sheets.

“I didn’t want to take your attention away from Morgan. And Ned and MJ were having fun and I couldn’t ruin that, and MJ’s already going through such a hard time anyway, and May -”

“Yeah, I’m gonna stop you there, kid,” Tony cuts in. “Here’s the thing: there is always time for the people we love. And, yeah, maybe it’s varies depending on the situation, but Morgan being sick does not mean I don’t have time to help my other sick kid. I know that’s how May feels about you and her job, too. And if your friends love you, then they’d much rather know you’re hurting and be there for you rather than suffer alone while they have fun.”

Peter sits on that a moment, letting the new information grow inside his chest. He’s not sure he entirely believes it, but he sure loves the thought of it. The thought that maybe there’s room for him, and that he doesn’t have to feel guilty for it.

Tony watches Peter’s face as the thoughts take root and makes a pleased face when he sees that the kid’s actually considering his words. He knows this is probably years of self-doubt and insecurity built up, all coming to a peak at the frustration of not recovering fast enough and the loneliness that comes with it, but it’s a start.

“C’mere,” Tony says, gently tugging Peter to him. “You need a hug.”

Peter feels tears welling up in his eyes again, but this time it’s more from relief as he shuffled into Tony’s side, leaning into his touch. Tony squeezes him tightly, and Peter smiles.

It’s much better than his own arms.

(It’s easy to think we’re alone. To think that we have to be. But we are not. And we don’t. Community is the most powerful weapon we have against the dark.)

#i had a very hard night #its almost 5am and i just #im very upset #but oh well #i know u all im quarantine might be feeling some similar things #let this be a reminder that ur not as alone as u feel #very sleepy #avengers #marvel #tony stark #mcu #peter parker #iron dad #spider son #my writing #hope writes

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guiltfreeicons · 4 years

Text

Hi GFI Family,

As the original founder of Guilt-Free Icons, I want to personally apologize for the long periods of silence you’ve had to endure from me and my fellow mods. We know this isn’t a job or anything, but we also know how much this blog meant to the roleplay community as a whole, and we don’t take that or your support for granted. We get that it was likely frustrating that we offered ways to reach us but seemed to disappear without warning.

With that said. I assure you this was not intentional. I am not here to put anyone on blast. But I’m sure it was obvious that Pebbles’ departure was sort of last-minute for all of us, and this is not her fault. She had every right to make that decision. But it did put a lot of pressure on myself and Bubbles-mod, and I’ll remind you that while at the time Pebbles-mod had plenty of her own things on her plate, she still had the most time to icon for GFI as Bubbles had a lot of responsibility for work as well as outside of it and I suffer from chronic pain & frequent hospitalizations.

At the time though, we were still planning to continue with he blog as close to normal as possible. We found new moderators & continued iconning. There are, in fact, quite a few posts in our drafts right now. However, plans were being made to try to get my health under control. Bubbles was making major life changes as well. We both thought these things would only take a few months, and that taking these months off would give us time to reorganize the blog. But I think you can guess that these things didn’t pan out. I won’t speak for Bubbles, but on my end, my health kept acting up, thus pushing off treatment. And then came March, which I think changed just about everyone’s plans.

So, perhaps you can guess where this brings us. This is more difficult to write than I can properly express, but Bubbles and I have decided to archive and retire Guilt-Free Icons for good. This is not something that will be up for debate or even a thing that can be solved by more moderators. Simply put: we are tired and emotionally drained. After everything that’s happened, we both found ourselves unable to even icon just for the fun of it, even all these months later. Even if we did have new moderators, how could we possibly expect to open back up when iconing, which used to be fun and relaxing for us, feels like a chore?

This is not the fault of anybody here. But in order to best allow ourselves to heal, we need to let go of the looming self-imposed responsibility that’s hanging over our heads. We need to truly give ourselves a break. An indefinite one. Bubbles & I have some interest in doing this again someday, but if we do, we want it to be because we’re passionate and excited about it again--not because we feel like we have to.

So, family, I hope you will support us. If not, I hope you can at least understand us. I cannot thank you enough for being on this journey with us for so long. All of our icons will be left up for you to use, but we will no longer be maintaining links, so if they’re dead, I’m sorry to say that they’re just lost. So make sure to save & backup what you love, okay?

As always, I wish you guys all the best. Be well & be safe out there.

❤ Jerry Mod

#Mod Post ;

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aclosetfan · 3 years

Note

if you are still taking prompts

may i suggest

“he focused the sound of her feet walking towards him. damn, he is so fucked”

@over-under-through1 (Lol you don’t even have to request stuff btw, Id literally just write stuff for you b/c youre so nice)

I thought of a few ways I could go with your prompt, but everything was coming up either hella boring or too predictable. I can’t say I’m too happy with what I wrote, but I know you like the greens so I settled on fleshing out a scene from a never written fic about Bubbles and Boomer’s engagement, and Bubbles forcing their families to meet (against Boomer’s recommendation). The twist is that everyone already knows each other, and unsurprisingly, no one likes their bridal party counterpart. (no powers au)

For the sake of context: Butch and BC are both the kid-siblings in this story. They know each other because they go to the same high school. Butch is one strike away from being sent back to juvie, and BC has the incredible (self-imposed) pressure of living up to her amazingly successful older sisters. Prior to the blue’s engagement, none of the green’s interactions had been particularly positive b/c Butch is considered a bully and BC’s best friend (only friend) Elmer is often bullied. BC’s personality is very closed off and Butch thinks she’s creepy. (lol I could go on forever about the potential outline of this story, but this is enough for a dumb excerpt)

-------

Prompt: He focused on the sound of her feet walking towards him. Damn, he was so fucked.

Summary: Butch needs a hero, he’s holding out for a hero—wait no, not that one! He wants another hero; he’s holding out for literally any other hero. Buttercup would just like one night of normal jogging.

Pairings: greens (but not romantic more like the very, very beginning of a positive relationship)

Genre: friendship/action

Rating: like 18+ for language and violence; t/w: thinly veiled sexual harassment (just threats, NO action—located towards middle) My warning/rating is just precautionary. Honestly, didn’t write anything that wouldn’t be shown on TV.

He was slammed against the fence by the scruff of his collar, and it was the first time that night that Butch thought, maybe, things weren't going to work out in his favor. "Come on, guys." He coughed, still recoiling from the punch to his gut, "Three of you, one of me? You may want to call the rest of your friends over and make it a fair fight."

The smart and playful banter was neither appreciated nor reciprocated, as another jab connected with his stomach. He gagged, and they allowed him to drop to his knees.

"What?" He coughed, as bile burned the back of his throat, "Skipping the dirty talk? Got somewhere better to be?"

"Do you ever sssshut up?" Snake, one of Ace's fave little goblins, growled.

"My incredible wit is half my charm, and you want me to s-s-s-sssshut up?" Butch argued back, mocking Snake's ever-present lisp. It wasn't the smartest move, but the way Snake's face contorted into something uglier, Butch believed his inability to keep his fucking mouth shut had been worth it. Snake kicked him fully to the ground and pinned him there. Face smooshed in the dirt, he cursed at them, and Snake pulled his hair, peeling his head off the pavement.

"What you sssay, kid?" He hissed.

"I said," Butch spit, "how's it feel to finally be the guy on top?"

Snake smashed his head down hard onto the pavement, and Butch saw a wave of stars.

"Piece of sssshit!"

"Takes one to know one, right?" He groaned as his vision became less and less spotty.

"I jussst," Snake chuckled, "I jussst can't fucking wait to sssee you get taken out."

"Like murder? Or on a date, because, like, you're not my type."

That earned him a punch to the back.

"Ssshut the fuck up, man!" Snake huffed, shoving his face back into the dirt.

"Fuck thisss kid." Snake said to the other two idiots, "Billy, hold him down. I'm gonna get Ace. Tell him we found him."

Butch tried to break away, as soon as Snake had let him go, but Big Billy, the biggest, dumbest, motherfucker that Ace probably kept around for his size and his size alone, stomped down on his back, replacing Snake, and effectively keeping Butch in his place on the concert.

"Yeah! That's right, pillow princess! Run home to daddy!" Butch barked after Snake's fleeing form, before a foot connected with his head. This time his abuser wasn't Snake or even Billy. No, this painful encounter was best accredited to Grubber. Grubber was another one of Ace's favorite minions. He was a short ugly man who, Butch swore, was suffering from some thyroid disease that made his ugly eyes bulge.

Butch couldn't tell if Grubber was dumb or smart. Butch couldn't even tell if Grubber was human. He looked more like the reanimated corpse of a dog-troll with the way he hunched and let his tongue lull out of his mouth. Regardless, the guy haunted his nightmares.

Butch let his head drop back to the ground in a daze and cried out when Billy applied more and more of his weight onto his back with a giggle. Butch was sure he'd end up snapping in half.

Mentally, he pleaded with the universe for a miracle. He had never been much of a believer in anything before. He figured when he died, he'd just die. Really nothing more to it. What he had not figured on, in all of his existential wonderings, was his death taking place in the middle of an abandoned McFatties parking lot, and frankly, he found the whole ordeal a little unfair. An abandoned McFatties parking lot was possibly one of the worst places he could think of to die in, and that was coming from him, a kid who had been forced to visit the state of Ohio once. So, mentally, he pleaded with the universe for a miracle.

"Hey!" A voice cried out, and because he was 99.9% sure he knew that voice, Butch filled with even more dread, taking back his pleas to the universe that had only happened mere seconds ago. He actually didn't need a miracle. He needed the sweet release of death.

Please. Please. The Death. Please! Not this! I don't want this! He mentally chanted, Death, death, death!

"Duuuh, hello?" Billy asked the parking lot, and Butch lifted his head a bit to get a look. When no one presented themselves, Grubber and Billy shared a look before shrugging, and they continued to bounce on his back until a brick sailed through the air and hit Grubber on his head. The shock of it caused Grubber to bite down on his tongue, and he cried out in pain.

"Grubber?" Billy asked, his voice thick with worry.

"Get off that guy!" The “mystery” voice rang out, and another brick flew through the air and hit Billy on the shoulder.

Big Billy stumbled off of him and looked around, "Who threw that!"

"Go!" The voice was closer, and Butch could hear the sound of running, "I'll call the police!"

The threat was enough for Grubber, who was still clutching his mouth. He grabbed Big Billy by the shirt, and they took off.

"We're telling!" Billy cried out like a five-year-old as another brick made contact with his back, "We're gonna tell on you!"

"Yeah! Keep running!" The "stranger’s" running came to a halt a little away from him, and yep, he 100% knew that voice. He groaned, his eyes screwing shut with pain, as he laid out on the pavement. He focused on the sound of her feet walking towards him and groaned again. Damn, he was so fucked.

"Shit are you ok—wait, Butch?" Buttercup asked, barely masking her surprise.

"Don't tell my brothers." He cracked an eye open when he felt her standing over him.

"I could care less." She scoffed at his weak begging, "Are you dying?"

He flexed and wiggled, but besides some major bruising, he seemed to be functioning well enough.

"Like," he grimaced, "not physically."

There was a shout, and Buttercup bristled above him. "Good enough, now get up," She huffed, yanking him up and his knees locked in pain.

"I take it back." He bent over, clutching his stomach, "I take it back, I'm dying."

"They were over here, bosssss!" The Snake called from around the corner.

"Well, now's not the time." Buttercup hissed at him and threw one of his arms over her shoulder to help drag him along, "I'm really gonna need you to get your shit together."

"Give me a minute." He hissed back, gritting his teeth, as he tried to get his legs to corporate, "Internal damage doesn't just fix itself. I don't have fucking superpowers."

"Consider getting some," She huffed back as they hobbled along in the shadows, ducking into a random alleyway.

He scoffed, "What are you even doing here?"

"What are you even doing here?" She echoed as they exited the alley and took a random right. She was moving them towards a bus stop. The street lamps shone over the bus stop bench like a spotlight, and the seat sang to him like a siren. His head was still reeling from the blow Grubber had dealt, and sitting down was exactly what he needed to stop the world from spinning.

"Touché." He said after a moment. Her business was her business. His was his. He was fine keeping it that way.

They made it to the bench, and Buttercup set him down. He slumped, holding his head in his hands as she paced around, peering into the shadows that the bus stop lights couldn't reach.

"Buses aren't coming anymore." He mumbled, and she looked back over at him with a frown, "Obviously, I know that."

"Then can you stop pacing.” He demanded, “You're giving me a headache."

"I'm giving you a headache?" She scoffed, "Listen, get up. We need to get somewhere with more people."

She was right; he knew that. The street they were on was desolate. They were still too far from both the City's hustle and bustle and the neighborhood cop patrols in the outlining suburbs. This was an awesome no-man land for shitheads like Ace and Co. to hangout.

At the same time, though, it hurt to move.

"Are you suggesting we run away?" He snorted, putting on a brave face, "Not my style, cupcake."

"Don't call me that." She shot back without missing a beat, "And I'd say this is more of a tactical retreat. I can't spend the rest of the night saving your ass. There are better things to do to waste my time with."

He stood up with the full intention to say something witty and badass back, but he moved too quickly and swayed. Little black dots filled his vision, and he plopped right back down onto the bench with a grimace.

"Five more seconds," He ended up spitting out as he gripped his head in his hands.

"Okay, for real, are you going to be okay?" Buttercup asked, kneeling in front of him, "Your head's bleeding."

He brought a hand to his forehead and tried to swallow the wince as his fingers brushed the wound. He frowned and examined the blood on his hands, "Well, that explains a few things."

She frowned back at him, "You could have a concussion. We need to get help."

"Probably not." He waved away her concern, cracking a smile, as he thought back to a particular conversation they had had in the school cafeteria not too long ago, "I've been told I've got a thick head."

She opened her mouth to retort, but somewhere in the shadows, there was a scuffle, like the sound of a can being kicked, that made her snap her mouth shut. She stood, whipping her head in every which direction looking for something terrible to appear.

"You're gonna have to walk faster." She looked back at him, "You're too heavy to carry."

"Excuse me, ma'am, it's not very polite to comment on a person's weight."

Buttercup glared down at him, "Do you really think right now is the best time to be a smart-ass?"

"Yes, in fact, I do. It's how I cope, thanks."

"You cope with humor?" Buttercup blinked with a dry stare, "Why?"

"Well, Ms. Doom-and-Gloom, I know this may be hard for you of all people to understand, but laughter is the best medicine."

"No," She snorted, rolling her eyes, "I'm aware. I just don't get how it works for you since, you know, you're not funny."

Butch opened his mouth to retort, but a hand shot out of the shadows and gripped Buttercup by the shoulder. She gasped in surprise, and he shot up a little straighter, ignoring his headache.

"Gotta say, Butcie-pal, I agree with the girl. I neva thought you were too funny either." Ace leered, "Who's ya pretty little friend, anyway, hmm? I don't think we've ever been introduced."

"Oh," Buttercup grimaced, shaking her head as she flicked Ace's hand from her shoulder, "no. No. Touching me won't be necessary."

"Fancy seeing you here, Ace." He gritted out through a forced smile, "A little birdy told me you got out of the joint early."

"Good behavior." Ace's face split into an equally condescending smile, "Did ya miss me, kid?"

"I've been countin' the seconds, buddy."

"Wait, Ace?" Buttercup's eyes went wide with recognition, "The Ace? From the Gang Green Gang?"

"The very same." Ace winked down at Buttercup, his sunglasses slid down his face as he checked her out, "I see my reputation proceeds me."

Buttercup ignored Ace, and whipped back around to glare at him, "Seriously, Butch? You were fighting with the Gang Green Gang?"

He rolled his eyes, "Oh, I'm sorry, did I not get around to telling you that, Buttercup? I've been a bit preoccupied."

"Buttercup?" This time Ace froze with recognition, and jabbed a slim, long finger in Buttercup's face, "Now, hold on. I know you."

Buttercup's lips pursed as she hit his hand away, "No, no, you don't."

"Yes, yes, I do." Ace continued to wag his finger in her personal space, "You're that prissy prosecutor's sister, ain'tcha, the one who had the pleasure of locking me up for three years?"

Buttercup's eyes darted over to Butch before going back to Ace, "Can't say exactly. The City has a lot of prosecutors."

Ace's face broke back out into a smile, "Yeah, yeah. I remembers seeing you in the paper, right next to ya sista."

Buttercup frowned, "Not ringing any bells."

"Aw, come on, don't play dumb with me. We're all friends here. Your sister, she's the one with the red hair, wears a ribbon, funky eyes. What was her name again? Tulip? Rose?" He snapped his fingers in though a few times, "Something floral."

"Blosssssom?" Snake suggested from behind.

"Ah!" Ace's smile grew, "Blossom! Yes! Thank you, Snake!" He grabbed Buttercup by the shirt and dragged her close. Practically nose to nose with her, he smirked, "Ringing any bells now?"

"Just a few." She glowered, no longer feigning cluelessness.

Ace threw his head back with a laugh, "This is the night that just keeps giving, boys! We've caught this shitbag." He jabbed a finger back at him on the bench, "And now we've got Blossom's pretty little sister to play with." He pulled her closer by the sleeve of her shirt, smashing her against his chest, "The only thing that would make this better is a beer! You drink, sweetheart?"

Butch scoffed because even though Buttercup was obviously a secret witch necromancer in her spare time, he wasn't a fucking degenerate who enjoyed watching men scaring girls, "Your issue's with me Ace, leave her out of this."

Ace threw Buttercup away, pivoted on his heels, and stalked back over, "Oh, oh, don't worry 'bout nothing Butch. I haven't forgotten about you. Sees after me and the boys get done having a little fun with your girlfriend, I'll be taking care of you."

Butch bristled in sync with Buttercup, "Oh—"

"—no—"

"—Wait!"

"Time out!" Buttercup cried, forming a 'T' with her hands, "I'm—"'

"—She's—"

"—not his—"

"—girlfriend!" They denied simultaneously.

Ace blinked, "I'm threatening both your dignities and your lives, and that's what you're choosing to focus on?"

"Yes!"

"Alright." Ace conceded, shrugging. "Say, fellas, get Butch's. . .acquaintance?" Ace asked, looking at him for confirmation.

"Eh, sure—" He conceded with a shrug, as Buttercup huffed from behind Ace, crossing her arms.

"—I wouldn't even say that."

"Yeah, okay then," Ace corrected himself, ignoring Buttercup, "Fellas, get his acquaintance nice and ready for me while I have a few words with the kid. Don't rough her up too much, though. You know how I like to work with a clean canvas."

"Ssssure thing bossss,"

"Oh, hell, no." He heard Buttercup growl, but his view of her was cut off by Ace, who pulled him up by the scruff of his collar. The adrenaline was pumping once more through his veins, so this time, standing at least didn't hurt.

"Seriously, dude, I don't think you wanna fuck with me like this." He threatened, but even he knew how empty it sounded.

"Seriously, dude," Ace mocked with a smile, "I don't think I give a fuck. Gotta admire your balls, though, kid. Takes a lot of guts to talk to me like that."

"What's your fucking deal anyway? I did what you asked for, I—"

Ace, a cheap bastard who fought dirty, kneed him hard in the groin. Butch let out a strangled gasp, and Ace laughed, letting him drop to the ground.

"It's that fucking mouth of yours." Ace answered, squatting down to get in his face. His breath smelt like cigarettes, weed, and rat piss, "Anyone ever told you it ain't becoming cussing in front of your elders all the time?" Ace reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack. Taking a cigarette, Ace offered it up, "Want one?"

"I don't smoke." He replied curtly. It was a semi-lie. He smoked. He just wasn't an avid cigarette smoker. Considering his family, though, he did, in fact, fancy himself a professional second-hand smoker. Brick chained-smoked. Boomer was always in a perceptual state of "I'm quitting tomorrow." Mojo could typically be found puffing on some pipe or cigar. And HIM was more of a social smoker, but a smoker nonetheless, since he liked using the cigarette sticks that made him look like Audrey Hepburn too much not to smoke.

If he died, Butch had always figured, it'd be lung cancer that took him out.

"That's smart." Ace nodded, chuckling, "It's shit for ya anyway, but what vice isn't, right?"

Butch watched Ace wearily as he searched around for his lighter. The pain in his groin had subsided into a dull ache, but he stayed on the ground. With Ace, he had to play it smart. Five against one weren't numbers in his favor, and there was Buttercup to consider, unfortunately. The little priss was probably scared shitless.

Ace flicked his lighter on a few times before it caught light and puffed his cigarette for a moment. Finally, he looked back down at Butch and exhaled a cloud of smoke in his face. It didn't bug Butch, but Ace seemed to think it was pretty funny.

"Now, kid, these manner problems you seem to be still having, I think, you know, that someones gotta teach you a thing or two. Seems like your shitbag brothers ain't doing too good a job, huh?"

"Don't talk to me about my brothers."

"Yeah?" Ace smiled, the cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth, "And whatcha gonna do, huh, do I gotta remind you about the position youse in?" Ace stood up and kicked his foot hard into Butch's gut. Again, he lost the air in his lungs.

"Fuck you." He coughed, and Ace shook his head.

"See again with the cussing." Ace sighed, "Figured since your brothers are too good for us now, that they'd do a little better by you, but I guess somethings neva change. Once a rat, always a rat, right?"

Butch opened his mouth to retort, but the commotion behind Ace caught his attention. Ace didn't seem to notice as he continued to lecture Butch on manners, respect, and a bunch of other things gang-bangers seemed to believe they automatically deserved. Through the gaps of Ace's legs, he watched as Grubber hit the ground hard.

His eyes widened as Buttercup swooped in on the fallen man, stomping down onto his back to keep him still. The taser in her left hand sparked to life as she spun around and lodged the offending weapon into Snake's neck. Snake cried out and made a swipe for her arm, but she ducked down, invading his hold. Squatting on the ground, Buttercup jabbed the taser into Snake's crotch, and the noise he made was finally enough to get Ace's attention.

"Wha—" Ace started, his sunglasses sliding down his nose in shock. Butch probably didn't look any better.

Buttercup ignored Snake's pleas for mercy and kicked his feet out from under him. He collapsed to the ground, still holding himself in his hands, and Buttercup smirked. Using her hands to launch herself into the air, she flipped away from Big Billy, who had been clambering up behind her, without a second glance. Billy’s nose was already bleeding, and based on the feral way Buttercup was taking the gang out, Butch would have placed money that a good headbutt had caused it.

Billy was too slow for Buttercup. Butch didn't have a clue where Arturo was, but if she kept bolting, he was pretty sure she had a clean and clear shot out of danger's way. To his surprise, though, Buttercup didn't run away. After landing her flip, she slid to a halt and turned back towards Billy. Squatting down low, like a sprinter, she took off back towards him at top speeds. Butch knew Buttercup was fast since she was always running everywhere like a madwoman, but he didn't think she could go that fast. She was on a high-speed collision course with Billy, a guy four times bigger than her, and it was the first time in his life that Butch had ever seen her smile like that.

Billy was ready for her, though. His arms were opened up wide as he got ready to grab her. Butch almost called out to her in warning, but instead, he watched in astonishment as she collided with Billy at a nearly perpendicular angle. She jumped slightly up before impact and threw her weight down onto Big Billy, using her shoulder to break his block and knock him off balance. The force of her momentum caused the big guy to stumble off to the side. He cried out in surprise as he tried to steady himself, but Buttercup didn't give him a chance. Like Snake, she dropped to the ground so that she could kick his unsteady feet from out underneath him. And like on Snake, it was quite effective.

Billy hit the ground with a loud crash and Buttercup stood over him, clapping the dust off her hands as she shot Ace a look.

Butch shared a bewildered look with Ace for a moment, before they both turned back to the fight.

"Billy!" Ace cried out, "Get up, you lug!"

Billy didn't get up, but he did start crying, and Butch laughed, "Ah, come on Ace, the bigger they are, the harder they fall, right?"

Ace glowered at him and called out to both Snake and Grubber, who both, in turn, moaned from their spots on the ground.

"Arturo!" Ace shouted, "Where the fuck are you?"

"Here, boss!" Arturo cried, sprinting out of the shadows and towards Buttercup with a battle cry. He lunged for her, but Buttercup seemed unfazed as she reached into her hoodie and pulled out a can. She sprayed whatever it was into Arturo's face, and he dropped mid-lunge to the ground with a horrible cry. She sprayed his face two extra times for good measure and then pocketed the can of mace like it was as unimportant as Chapstick.

She whipped her head back around towards them and again shot Ace a death glare.

"Holy shit." Butch blinked and then let out another short laugh, looking back up at Ace, "Like damn, dude, you're so fucked."

Ace balked, taking a few steps back. He began to root around in his pockets before pulling out a switchblade and flicking it open, "Don't take another step!"

Buttercup brushed some dirt off her jacket as she continued to advance, "What, Ace? Is the canvas not clean enough for you?"

Without his lackey's, Ace trembled with fear, "I said, not another move."

"Cute knife," Buttercup shrugged, nonplussed, as she reached back into her pocket, "Wanna see mine?"

Ace looked between the two of them, as Butch began to find his footing once more, then at his fallen minions. He dropped his hands and backed further away.

"This ain't over!" He sneered and took off running.

Buttercup pulled her hand out of her pocket, sans knife, and dropped to her knees to inspect him.

"Do you just piss everyone off for fun?" She asked, helping him up.

"Something like that," he shrugged.

Behind them, Billy began to groan as he attempted to pick himself off the ground. Buttercup's eyes went wide.

"Let's go." She hissed and pushed him into a run. She pulled him along for a moment as she ran before letting him go and taking off on her own. He tried his best to keep up, but the beating he had been put through quickly caught up with him. He slowed to a stop and watched her disappear into the distance. Taking a few deep, heavy breaths, Butch bent over and put his hands on his knees.

In. Out. Wince. In. Out. Wince.

He wanted to call out to Buttercup, but she was long gone, and, for once, he couldn't find his voice.

What a fucking night, though, he ended up thinking to himself.

There was nothing else that the world could throw at him that would surprise him at this point.

But right on cue, the world took him up on that because immediately after he spoke the challenge into existence, red and blue lights flashed behind him. A cop car chirped, its siren turning on and off once to get his attention. Butch slumped further down with a sigh, because of fucking course. He should have known better.

Jumped and thrown back into juvie all in one night—it was a new personal record! He couldn't wait to hear the opinions his family would have. With another heavy sigh, he threw his hands into the air and turned around to face the officer since he wasn't too particularly keen on adding "racially profiled and shot in the back" to his long list of shitty sob stories.

"Well, well." The officer stepped out of his car, but Butch couldn't see which one since the officer had neglected to turn off the headlights shining right in his face, "What do we have here?"

He kept quiet because he knew his fucking rights. The cop stalked up to him and blinded him with a flashlight. He didn't quite understand why that had been necessary given the patrol car's headlights, but cops were a different breed of stupid in this City.

"Now, if it isn't the most illustrious Butch Jojo. I've heard about you, kid."

Butch grunted back.

"Hmm, not much of a talker?" The cop asked conversationally, and Butch twitched with annoyance. He didn't get why everyone—especially adults—always wanted to do the small talk bullshit.

"That's fine. I'll get to the point—" Butch already knew he actually wouldn't, "—where are you coming from looking like that?" The cop flashed his flashlight up and down, emphasizing the tears and bloodstains on his clothes. "Are you aware of a robbery that took place on 5th tonight?"

Butch seized up, knowing exactly what the cop was implying. "That's like forty minutes from here on foot!" He protested.

"I wasn't asking for directions, son."

"I don't know anything about a robbery on 5th." Butch spat back, and the cop's mouth curled into a sneer.

"Then, care to explain what you were running from?"

Taking a deep breath, Butch glared at the officer, "I don't have to say anything."

The cop chuckled, "Well, maybe you'll change your mind at the station."

"What!" Butch yelled, "I—"

"—Calm down, kid, I'm not playing games!"

"Wait, officer, wait! He's with me." Buttercup ran forward, reappearing from the shadows and linking their arms together. Slightly, she pulled him away from the officer and his blinding lights, "I was showing him the loop I run, and he tripped. I—I was doubling back to bring him a—uh, a bandaid?" She (poorly) lied.

"Buttercup Utonium?" The cop blinked, and she offered a strained smile.

"Hey, Officer Smith."

The officer's face contorted, and he jabbed the end of his flashlight toward Butch's face, "He's with you?"

"Uh, yeah." Buttercup shrugged, stepping slightly in front of him like a barrier, "His brother is engaged to my sister."

The officer lowered the flashlight and blinked in surprise, "Blossom's engaged? I just saw her the other day."

"Not Blossom." Buttercup shook her head, "Bubbles."

"Bubbles! Engaged?" The officer exclaimed, blowing air from his lips, "Time flies! I remember you being this tall—" He indicated a little past his knee, "—when your sister starting working for the Prosecutor."

Buttercup nodded her head, curtly, "Yep."

The officer smiled at her and reholstered his flashlight, "Well, you tell Ms. Bubbles I said congrats, ya hear me?"

"Alright, no problem." Buttercup nodded again, nudging into him, so he'd start backing away. The officer shot him a quick look before turning back to Buttercup. "And you keep this one in line, ya hear me." He told her as he wagged a finger in his direction. "It's about time you found some decent friends to hang out with." Officer Smith lectured, staring him down, before he addressed both of them, "Now, it's past curfew, you two need to head home."

Butch kept his mouth screwed shut, but Buttercup seemed to read his body language loud and clear because she threw him a nasty look before turning back to the officer.

"Sure, sorry, Officer Smith, we lost track of time." She apologized to the officer as she elbowed him into walking away, "I'll tell my sisters you said hi."

"Goodbye, Buttercup." The officer waved as he made his way back to his patrol car. "Butch." The officer nodded at him, giving him the once over again.

He rolled his eyes, turning away. "Fucking cops." He grunted, but when he looked over to his right, Buttercup was gone. "Hey, where—" He spun around looking for her, only to find that she was practically halfway down the block, "—Hey!"

Ignoring how sore he was, he jogged after her. She didn't bother to look at him as he knocked into her.

"Okay, three things—" He started, as he kept in step with her, and Buttercup heaved a heavy sigh. "One, how do you three know everyone in this fucking city?"

She shrugged, "Just do."

"Two, why do you just have a taser and mace on hand?"

"Because I'm a teenage girl, and I run at night."

"Yeah, soooo…"

"Sooo," Buttercup emphasized slowly with a dry look, "sex trafficking, rape. Teenage girls always seem to be a pretty hot commodity. Recent events should have probably tipped you off to that."

Butch stopped dead in his tracks for a moment and blinked, dumbfounded, "Oh right. Cause you're a chick. I, like, forgot about that."

"Yep." She agreed over her shoulder since she hadn't stopped to wait for him to process the obvious.

He jogged to catch up with her with a nod, "Guess that's smart then."

"Guess so." She muttered back and took a sharp left down a pathway he hadn't even known existed.

"And three," He slowed them down, rubbing the back of his neck, "uh, thanks, I guess, for back there."

"Which part?"

"All of it."

Buttercup looked past him towards where the cop car had been and then back at him with a shrug, "Don't mention it. Like, seriously, don't."

He nodded, and she turned away, going back to fast walking speed. He stumbled after her.

"So, where we going?"

"I'm going home. I don't know where you're going."

"Going home?" He repeated.

"Yep."

"But why—how! You can't just go home! Not after all that shit back there!" He speculated out loud, "Aren't you, like, pumped up?"

She sighed, "Nope. Are you going to keep following me?"

"Buttercup." He huffed, running in front of her to block her way, "dude, that shit back there was fucking badass, and I don't say that kind of shit lightly. I don't know whatever fucking voodoo god you're praying to every night, but it's working. You gotta—" he scrambled for anything his mind could come up with, "—you gotta, like, at least get something to eat with me for like, like, closure."

Buttercup stared up at him, her eyebrows pulling together, "Did…did you just ask me to hang-out?" She paused before clarifying, "With you?"

"Uhhh…" He frowned, his own eyebrows pulling together as he mulled over his previous statement, "huh?" He shrugged, "I guess I did."

Her frown deepened, and she pushed past him, "You should probably go to the hospital. Thick head or not, it was obviously hit a lot harder than you've let on."

He snorted and turned around to catch up with her, "I think I'm serious, though."

She looked him over again, "Seriously, you're starting to freak me out. Should I call 911?"

They made it out of the alley and emerged near a little corner before Townsville blended into the surrounding Pokey Oak County. There, like a beacon in the night, was Pops, a burger joint that he liked.

"Ha!" He proclaimed, pointing towards the 24/7 diner, "Come on!" He grabbed her by the elbow and began to drag her with him.

"Hey!" She protested, digging her heels into the ground as she tried to wriggle out of his grasp, "Cut it out!"

"Listen. We're getting a burger, whether you like it or not. Brick's treat."

She stopped her struggling and a raised eyebrow, "Your brother's paying?"

He rolled his eyes with a smirk before he pulled his older brother's debit card that he had stolen earlier that night from his back pocket and waved it in the air, "Duh."

She looked back over her shoulder towards the direction of her home, then over again towards him and the burger joint, "Welllll, if he's paying," She hummed, shrugging, "sure, why the hell not."

He laughed and dropped her elbow, "Good choice, Butterfingers, let's go."

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

I’m sorry if you hate it—I know the pacing’s a bit off and my dialogue punctuation needs work, but it’s been a crazy few days lmao and I just wanted to get this out ☹ if it’s absolute shit let me know and I’ll try writing you something else! Also, the body slam BC used on Big Billy is a move Jammers use in roller derby to get past blockers because, hint, in this world BC is “secretly” in roller derby. ((“Secretly” because her fam and Elmer knows, but no one else.)) I just suck at action scenes so it doesn’t come across well

#ppg prompt requests #my writing

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joelmillerthirstqz · 4 years

Note

Loving your stories! How about a sort of combination of kink prompts 41/70? Joel/Reader are out on patrol, she gets almost bitten (he confirms it doesn’t break the skin somehow but scares the hell out of both of them). Back in Jackson she insists on quarantining for a few days to make sure she’s not infected (he thinks it’s unnecessary). As soon as Joel gets her home from her self-imposed quarantine, he needs to have her in an I-almost-lost-you-Don’t-ever-do-that-again desperate kind of way.

Welp!

72-Hour-Quarantine

The wind goes out of you as a runner collides with your side, his wayward arms circling into a surprisingly effective tackle. The thing looks especially ragged and your arms are pinned under yourself as you try to reload with it gnashing on top of you. You hear Joel yell your name and fire, but he hits just left of the runner’s spine and only adds a jerk to its unsettling movement.

You shoot it point-blank in the chest by the time you chamber a round, earning an upset gurgling wail—this thing might be just a day or two away from clicking already, no way to tell how long it had been out here.

You feel the hard semicircle of its mouth close over your shirt-covered shoulder. The pressure makes your head spin but you don’t feel the telltale puncture of teeth. It lasts for two seconds before Joel fires again, the sound deafening you at this range and spraying blood all over your face. The sighted clicker falls slack, a toothless mouth lolling open as you register what happened and freeze on the floor where you are.

Ears ringing, your back is against Joel’s chest as his hands scrabble to see the damage.

“Hope you’re still listening,” you say to him without hearing yourself, trying not to look at your shoulder. “Can’t hear a fucking thing.”

He ignores you and gets the strap of your undershirt off and runs his palm over a purpling pressure wound, raw from the force of the bite but skin unbroken. You’ve gone quiet in stark resignation.

You feel him stroke the side of your face as if to turn it towards the mark and you look, ringing not dissipating but his voice coming through stronger. No teeth, no blood drawn, but the way blood pools at the surface and darkens made you anxious. Your skin is near-shiny with the discoloration.

“Not broken,” he pronounces and you exhale.

You push away from him and stand, righting your clothes.

“Hey, you’re good, right? You’re good,” Joel’s hands close over both of your biceps, watching your face.

“I need to quarantine. When we get back.”

“No you don’t, the skin is going to be fine—just need some ice,” he scrubs a hand over his face, watching you closely.

“Joel, I need you to cover for me, okay? I’m not showing this to Maria,” you’re adamant but glance down.

“Nothing to cover because, you’re okay,” he says doggedly, tapping at the split-open jaw of the clicker with the toe of his boot.

Joel takes a cautious step closer, repeating his gentle reassurances. His hand goes to your jaw and you realize he’s about to do something stupid, so you push away and turn down the hall to make your way back to the horses.

“I could be infected, Joel,” you say apologetically, too awash in ‘what-if’ to register that after four months of awkward, sweet, near-heated interactions, he’d tried to kiss you at the dumbest possible opportunity.

“That it?” He asks, one hand tucked in his belt, same as he always did when he wasn’t sure where to put them. He doesn’t look defensive as much as severely let down.

You stop and look back at him.

“No, of course not. But now I need to go lock myself inside for three days so I don’t eat you about it, alright?” You watch each other with searching eyes for a second before he follows you out to the horses.

—

Jackson, Wednesday Evening

It’s evening by the time you get in and stable the horses, Joel half-watching you but evidently convinced that you hadn’t been infected as you hand off your horse in the stables. You trudge silently towards home, not speaking until you reach your porch.

“I’ll see you Saturday,” you say quietly, shuffling up your steps, aching for a hot shower that you were a little hopeful would run cold.

Joel chuckles and looks up at you under his dark brows.

“I’ll see you in a few hours,” he dismisses.

You give him a soft smile.

“Bring your shotgun,” you joke, knowing it is weak deflection.

He rolls his eyes at you and retreats to the street, hands thrust in his coat.

—

Jackson, Wednesday, Midnight

You’re showered and settled on your couch with a nice fire heating the living room you still can’t believe is yours, your legs slung off of one edge as you balance your book on your chest.

You’ve read this particular paragraph four times: spent the first thinking about your mortality and whether or not Joel could actually kill you right in this spot if you turn, the second totally assured that quarantining is the right choice, the third, whether or not a kiss could transfer the virus, and the fourth about the way he would taste, how his hand would feel guiding your jaw like that again.

A knock startles you on your fifth pass, and you squint over the back of the couch before rising.

You peer through the door and sigh, walking around your entryway to slide open the dining room window and poke your head out. Joel’s hands are in his pockets again, rocking back and forth on one foot. He raises an eyebrow at you, curtains parted around your shoulders and hair knotted on top of your head.

“Can I come in?” He speaks to you quietly, low drawl never requiring a lot of volume between you.

“Joel, you know why not,” you sigh. He’s already dragging a chair from your porch parallel to your location in the window seat.

“Fine, even though you’re fine,” he replies, taking a seat and tugging two beers from his jacket. You accept the one he passes through.

“No gurgling yet, zero moaning,” you report, toasting him through the window.

“I see that,” Joel says, crossing one ankle over his opposite knee.

—

Jackson, Thursday, Morning

“Joel, I’m fine, I’m me, still good,” you call, traipsing down the stairs and acquiring articles of clothing as you go, rubbing your eyes at the bright downstairs light. His broad frame is haunting your entire front door, but you duck to the side the poke open the dining room window, even with this cold. As you get settled on the window seat, a covered plate of food enters your line of vision. It looks like an omelette stuffed with something, steaming the edges of the container.

“Did you make me breakfast?” You ask sleepily.

“Hopefully lasts a little more than that, I’m out on route four today,” he explains. “And I only mentioned to Ellie. She’ll keep quiet, everyone thinks you have the flu otherwise.”

It smells fantastic, and you note he might actually have managed to preserve some of the herb garden persisting away in his backyard, decades after the outbreak.

You don’t know what to say to him or the casual, presumptuous intimacy so you just bite your lower lip to avoid saying something stupid. Watching the edge of hopefulness on his features makes it hard to look at him directly. You decided yesterday that you’re going to climb into his lap the second you can be close again, counting out stupid, anxious missed time. You probably could have kissed him months ago, based on the way he’s acting now, and instead you’d both just shuffled back to your respective houses to sit in consumed solitude night after night.

“Thank you,” you finally give weakly. He smiles and starts to make his way off of the porch, hand on a column as he rounds it. The way he moves through the world is so visceral and practical, and you look at him a little longer than you mean to.

“Joel,” you start. He looks back with those eyes and their intense focus, warm at the edges for regarding you.

“Be safe, please,” you ask.

“If I’m not, I’ll just come in there with you,” he’s more bold than he’d ever been, smile tugging up the corner of his mouth before he turns. You sigh and watch him stride away, shamelessly taking in his form with your chin on your hand.

—

Jackson, Thursday, Late

The knocking doesn’t startle you this time, his rhythm familiar now. You want to tick the lock open and just let him inside, for both your sakes, but you don’t, for everyone’s sake.

“How was patrol?” You ask, sliding the door open.

“Are you good?” he plows.

“Me first. Are you?” You counter. You’d be a moaning heap of erratic pain if you were going to turn at this point.

Joel relents and nods.

“Brought back some things from town,” he says sheepishly, pushing you a paper-wrapped section of meat and a small basket of vegetables. They’re stacked with suspicious neatness, lashed together with a neatly tied bow of twine. They don’t come that way at the market stalls.

—

Jackson, Friday, Early Afternoon

Joel doesn’t get a reply after the first two knocks, and he rushes to the back door. He can hear a record warbling and the uniform sounds of something being chopped, letting his shoulders sink a couple of inches from their tense alert.

You’d been trying to prepare what he’d brought you last night in silence and couldn’t get free of repeating your conversations, brief little snippets of tipsy exchanges. It’s not like you’d spoken much since he’d been hovering over your one-house quarantine zone, but you suppose there’s not a lot left to say. You’ve got exactly one thing to express to him and it doesn’t require a hell of a lot of talking at this point.

He hears a deep male voice thrumming along, inflected with guitar and accompaniments that crackle through the vinyl player in the kitchen. He raises his hand to the back door to knock before your voice joins in, catching on just one verse.

You know I dreamed about you

For twenty-nine years before I saw you

You’re trying your damndest to do a nice job of cutting neat circles of the squash he’d picked out, slow thumps of the knife hitting the board running along with the music. You sing distractedly, only to yourself.

You know I dreamed about you

I missed you for, for twenty-nine years

Joel pulls his hand back, running it over his beard and seeing how quietly he can sneak back to your front door.

When he knocks, the first side of the record is run out and you sigh in relief, still murmuring a soft fuck me because who knows how long he’d been there.

You pop open the dining room window.

“Want to come to the back porch? Trying to do what you brought me some justice, and you should take some home for you and Ellie,” you get out calmly, gesturing to the path he’d just snuck along below the view of the windows.

Joel retraces his steps with a small smile.

You fling open the window over the sink and he leans in, forearms crossed over each other.

“That smells delicious,” he comments, watching you carefully layer the vegetables, alternating their colors one over the other. You’d never been any type of a cook before the outbreak, but in Jackson, time was almost predictable enough to spend meditative little moments on details. You took to it well, especially when the source of the food was a bit more precious than whatever generic options supermarkets peddled before. This was grown in Jackson, hunted in Jackson—carried to you by a man whose whole height can barely handle the window he’s leaning into. Maybe you’re pouring extra focus into hoping he hadn’t heard your choice pining through the windows a moment before while he watches you attentively.

Sliding it into the oven with a satisfied nod, you set the manual timer to two hours and look up nervously.

“Well. It’ll be a bit,” you shrug.

“Fix me a drink then, honey?” Joel teases, and you wish the sound of him calling you that didn’t shoot to your toes. His smile is radiant and you try to memorize this rare expression without tripping over something in your own house.

“Fuckin’ pushing it,” you emphasize, pointing to him as you retreat to the bar to scrounge up something pass the time while the dinner cooks.

—

Jackson, Saturday Morning

Joel wakes up early on Saturday, hustling through scant chores and a long shower, arriving at squarely at seven in the morning with an empty cup of coffee before him on his kitchen island, shirt neatly tucked into his jeans, boots looking suspiciously more respectable and free of dirt than usual. He tries to force himself to sit after he pours another mug, eyes grazing the clock constantly. You’d been chewed on around nine AM three mornings ago, quarantine is a 72-hour-thing, and he bounces one knee nervously as the sunlight starts to slant across his kitchen floor to indicate something closer to a reasonable hour.

There’s a buzzy tension to him, realizing no buffer of over-caution needed to be enforced anymore. It meant not ignoring that his first reflex on realizing he hadn’t lost you was to finally kiss you. Ideally it meant he would get to finish the conversation he had tried to start.

At ten minutes before nine, he barely finishes knocking when you whip open the door, short hair wet and a mug of tea in one hand.

“Still human,” you note, spinning as if to prove it, lopsided grin trying to keep it light. You show him the bruise beginning to redden and wilt yellowish near the edges, purple receding like you’d been clenched in a smooth-edged bear trap instead of an infected maw.

“May I come in?” He asks so formally that you step back and gesture inside with a little bow, closing off the cold behind him. Joel fills the space of your little entryway and you’re compelled to set your tea down where you keep your keys on the table, not breaking eye contact with him.

“Listen, what I did after—” he starts, halting at the way you’re watching him without flinching. Your eyes flick to his mouth and he steps towards you, expecting you to back into the wall so he can stop and ask to kiss you this time.

You grasp the hair at the nape of his neck and kiss him hard, mouth opening for him as he instantly reciprocates, hands flying to your sides. You kiss adroitly, anticipating each other like its an old habit until Joel pushes you against the wall, coaxing your legs around his waist and holding you there to bring you level with him.

His tongue feels so exquisite, feels perfect to finally have him pressed against you like this—you don’t think of pace or timing as you speed to unbutton his shirt. Joel flicks yours open, smoothing his hand over your still-sore, riddled shoulder. He drops open-mouthed kisses there and you arc against him without meaning to. He piques an eyebrow with interest at that, clearly filing it away.

You slide your hands over his shoulders to urge his shirt off and he hastily twists out of it, grasping your thighs to move you into the living room. He gets to the dining room table instead, layout inverted from his own home, and laughs against your mouth before righting you both and trying to hasten back to the couch.

You pull his hair and wreck his balance, and he slams you both into the china cabinet that you’d never quite gotten the energy to move out of whoever’s house this was before. You slide your hand between your bodies and try to slip into the waistband of his jeans. Joel catches your wrist and slams it into the cabinet, shaking something off the top in the process, his other hand palming your breasts. You both laugh against each other at the loud crash, Joel toeing the shards mostly out of your way.

You use your considerable lower body strength to spin Joel against the cabinet and emphasize what you want with your palm against his chest, wrenching the buttons of his fly open and falling to your knees in front of him. You swallow him near whole, finding him fully hard and hearing a tinny tchink tchink as dishes jostle in the cabinet beside your combined weight. Thinking you’d be fully satisfied to kneel here and explore him just like this, you hollow your cheeks and revel in assessing his size, peeking up to watch him react.

“Fuck, fuck, that has to wait,” he grimaces, gulping a huge breath and tugging on your hair. He uses that particular curse so rarely, even on life-or-death patrols, that you assent and draw off of him, watching him close his eyes as you slip off of his head.

Joel tugs you up roughly and half-stoops to get one arm under your knees, an act that would be effortless if pleasure wasn’t diffusing across every inch of his skin. He pointedly gets back to the couch in a few strides, long legs carrying you quickly.

He tosses you down lightly and covers your body with his, mouth roaming over your throat and collarbones. Joel sits back on his heels to unbutton your jeans and strip them away as you paw to drag his the rest of the way down.

He gives a nervous grunt as you both realize he still has his boots on, and you muscle your way into his lap to keep kissing him while he fumbles them off behind you, smiling into your kiss. When he’s free, you grind down against him and take him in your fist, earning a gasp as he turns his face against your chest.

Joel flips you both again, simply getting you under him and guiding himself to your core. You thrust up to receive him before he can ask to have you, and take scant time to adjust before he’s slamming into you. The blunt edge of his fingernails dig into your hips as he holds you fast, rearing back on his knees to get the best angle. His physicality hadn’t been lost on you for a moment, but you let him stretch you open while you take him in anyway. He’s in excellent shape, definition emphasized by the tight clench of his abdomen as he takes you. Figuring it’s acceptable to gawk with him this deep inside of you, you span a palm over his chest and the dark hair there, unmistakable line of it directly between his hipbones so gratifying now that you weren’t just seeing it in accidental flashes.

As good as the impact of his motions shaking the entire couch and your body feel, you roll up towards him so you’re seated squarely in his lap so you keep kissing him while you move together. The change in angle doesn’t tone down the way every one of your bones is rattling as he responds urgently to you riding him.

Joel’s broad hands are everywhere, unable to pause on one spot, bunching in your hair to keep you where he likes as you fuck each other with building intensity. It’s like you’re both trying to lead a dance and each had only ever learned to follow, too messy with need to get out of each other’s way. It’s not skillful and that fact is utterly missed on both your accelerating orgasms.

“I’m okay, I’m all here,” you murmur against his mouth as his hands stroke over you like he’s reassuring himself. You thread your own hands into his black hair, thumbing his jaw through his beard.

“Stay that way,” he pleads back, one hand on your jaw, one guiding your hips over his and working his tongue into your mouth for want of more ways to be connected to you.

You want to respond but the way you’re rocking together only facilitates a moan escaping as you start to spasm around him.

Joel pulls back deliberately with his hand on your chin so he can watch—you pull his thumb into your mouth and bite softly as you come, shuddering and bucking in his lap. His brows draw up tense as he follows you, keeping his eyes on yours until he cries out with his forehead against your collarbone on the side with the enormous pressure bruise.

Your rapid panting twines even as it starts to slow, and Joel pulls back to press a soft kiss to your shoulder, eyes still on you, still inside you.

“C’mere,” you slide off of him carefully, awareness of how sore you were going to be settling in to muscles overworked by impatient need. Pulling both your chests together to feel your heartbeats at once, his eyes drift like he’s finally calmed by the sensation, strumming along your spine with an open hand.

You half-assemble yourselves in the brightening morning light, squinting at clothes strewn out of reach across the bottom floor of your house. You both become a little more sheepish in the aftermath, shy smiles coming comfortably but tension not dissolved. Joel feels at ease moving beneath you in a way you’d never seen him.

“I’ll go grab our shirts,” you start, trying to rise.

“Can I just take you upstairs for the rest of the day?” he counters, low, warm voice filling you.

“No plans today?” You raise your eyebrows at him curiously.

“Just the one,” he breathes.

You finish standing and cock your head at him, extending your hand. There’s no shyness in the way he looks at you now, just the directness wrought by plans to continue rearranging your life in broad daylight.

He rises and picks you up before you can react.

“Joel, it’s just upstairs,” you whine, not really upset by whatever this was from him.

“It was three days. And you wouldn’t let me in,” he objects.

“Longer wait than three days, cowboy,” you mutter.

He raises his eyebrows in good humor at the endearment, placing you on your still-mussed bed. You drag him close and pull him down to the bed, finding yourself caged in his arms.

“Come here,” you demand, pulling him towards you. No amount of daylight was going to be enough for you today, and you faintly think someone will have to go out to find food eventually.

“Nope, whole new bunch of questions need answerin’,” Joel kisses you confidently and it feels nice on him; feels soaringly good to you.

Whatever of his taciturn nature had fed the edges of your caution before had been absolutely obliterated by receiving a whole vocabulary he could access in this context. You’d thought him a little gun-shy at first, but his mouth on yours is joined by thoughtful fingers teasing at your entrance. There’s nothing rushed about it, and he exudes competent experience and reactive curiosity as he spreads you.

Joel mouths down your chest seriously, brows knitting like it requires all of his focus.

“Wasted so much goddamn time just looking at you,” he whispers, leaning against the inside of your thigh. Joel usually couldn’t fix your gaze too long before this, ducking his head or pulling his guard up before meeting your eyes. You see the hazel you’d always carefully noted as he rests against your skin and smirk a little triumphantly at the sight, his pupils blown out dark and mouth reddened from friction. Joel Miller was so damn appealing it was a little preposterous, and your hands flex to touch him again.

He gives you a look that’s too vulnerable for the way he tucks your thigh over his shoulder, placing his mouth over your clit and sucking hard with absolutely no ceremony. Joel eats you ravenously over long minutes, adjusting to each sound you make and spreading his tongue over you until you’re shaking. The room begins to warm, not just with the sun cresting the mountains that ring Jackson as the day creeps higher.

Joel pistons his tongue into you, swirling around your clit on each upstroke. You come, fisting the sheets hard enough that you both look up and laugh as a long rip signals that you’d wrecked your sheets, at least on one side.

“…hold onto me instead, you know,” Joel teases into your ear once he’s climbed up your body as you gasp under him. He could slip into you without hesitation now, so you grab his ass and do your best to get him on his back. He relents and rolls, handily outmatching your strength but completely bent to your will.

“You didn’t let me finish,” you hiss at him, slipping down his body to take him deep in your mouth.

Joel grunts and you glance up to see him biting his own forearm above his wristwatch, his other hand working into your hair.

It’s clear that he absolutely loves this, yelping when you get a wet hand around the length of him that your mouth can’t take, twisting and pumping in time with your lips and tongue. You think you could stay here entirely contented for longer than you’d ever imagined, helpless noises escaping him and spurring you.

“Stop or I won’t last,” he grits, hips rolling beyond his command, chest expanding rapidly.

You pull off with faux annoyance, licking a stripe up the crest of his hipbone and smiling when he jumps a little.

“Sort of the point,” you note before taking him back in your mouth, taking him as far into your throat as you can manage, tearing up along the way.

“Christ,” he sighs quietly, deft fingers grasping your hair, almost riding your face though he’s under you.

You span a hand over his ribs, fingertips settling in the grooves of old scars and stroking.

Joel grunts as he comes, flexing obscenely in your mouth and making a noise you could have only fantasized about before. Swallowing him down takes work and he writhes throughout it, callused fingertips abrading your scalp through your fine hair as oversensitivity crashes onto him.

You crawl back up his body, his hands urging you and feeling everything he can reach as you settle into his arms, a leg tucked over his lap.

Joel kisses you without hesitating and you taste each other in a far deeper rhythm than two fucked-out people should be building to. Any other context and you two could have woken up like this, staying in bed late to please each other, comforter heaped on the floor.

He pulls back with something leaping in his eyes.

“Give me,” he looks over your body, thumbing a nipple possessively, “…twenty minutes at most, and I have intentions for you,” he says, tapping your foreheads together.

“Twenty?” you raise your eyebrows. You hadn’t risked a lot of men since the outbreak, but that would be genuinely impressive. You readjust your cheek against his bicep, his arm tucked tight around your waist.

Joel rolls his eyes good-naturedly and grabs your jaw, kissing you again. He lets you study him when you pull back, seeming to do the same with the pad of his thumb arcing over your cheekbone.

He strokes your bruise, wincing a little at the obvious pain it confers.

“This is never happening again,” Joel softly thumbs the wound, “but I’m not staying locked outside if it did.”

“This didn’t happen because you nailed it before it could do more, gums or not,” you chuckle.

He nods.

“You heard me, though?” Joel asks, feeling a little bare.

“You really think I’m letting you outside again?” you ask, tapping his lower lip with your teeth before kissing him slowly, moving assuredly as he enfolds you in both his arms.

#filled prompts #filled asks #joel x reader #joel/reader #Anonymous

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quicksilversquared · 5 years

Text

Plagg’s School

Plagg isn't much interested in being any sort of teacher, but when the opportunity arises for him to spend some time with Marinette, he jumps on the opportunity to try to unteach some of the less healthy lessons that she's been taught.

He didn't expect it to be this hard, or for there to be so much for her to unlearn. But he's no quitter, and Paris needs Ladybug to be at her best.

A continuation of sorts for my story Superhero Lessons

Plagg hadn't thought that this would be so hard.

When Tikki and Master Fu had decided to have Marinette and Adrien switch Miraculous temporarily (thanks to a subtle suggestion from Plagg, but framed so that they thought that he was kidding), Plagg had thought that all it would take to knock her out of her mindset of having to feel responsible for everyone else's actions and reactions all the time would be to just make some snide comments when he saw adults behaving badly. Marinette- Ladybug- was smart, surely she would pick up on the clues fast enough and then Plagg could sit back for the rest of the week, relax, and enjoy the plethora of cheese bread that came along with living in a bakery.

He was wrong.

Sure, there had been plenty of opportunities for side-eying and "offhand" comments, and Plagg had taken pretty much every single one. But Marinette had brushed the comments off or repeated the party line of "I have to be the bigger person" every. single. time. It was enough to make Plagg want to scream.

Not that it was a bad thing for a Ladybug to be kind and caring and self-aware, of course! Those were very good things. And yet. And yet.

Marinette's parents were caring and loving, sure, but they seemed to have higher expectations for Marinette than they did for actual adults sometimes. They- and Tikki, and probably the teachers in Marinette's life, too- had drilled in the lesson that Marinette had to be kind, had to be understanding, had to be accommodating and giving and accepting and not hurt people's feelings and always apologize when she did something wrong and-

Ugh. There was such thing as too much. Teenagers would make mistakes and have honest reactions sometimes, and it was supposed to be up to the actual, literal adults to understand that and not get disproportionately upset about it. Maybe an apology would make sense some of the time, but when Marinette was the only one apologizing for an honest misunderstanding?

It was just one more thing on the pile of stuff to stress about, one more subtle push towards you have to be perfect, you can't ever make anyone upset ever, everyone else's feelings and reactions are your fault.

Plagg had had kittens who were sensitive and anxious before. He knew how they thought. There most definitely was such thing as taking on too much of the blame and too much responsibility.

If a grown-ass adult got akumatized because of something a frustrated teenager said... yeah, that was definitely on the adult.

So that was annoying, and Marinette seemed to be slipping further and further down the path of fully believing what she had been told, always careful to try to keep her own emotions under control but taking what seemed to be full responsibility for when other people couldn't manage to do the same.

And then there was the whole overworking thing.

Plagg had thought that Adrien was busy for his age, with all of his activities- the fencing, the basketball, the Mandarin and piano and modeling and commercials. But Adrien at least had plenty of time set aside in his schedule for homework and studying and projects. If he was scrambling to get stuff done, it was usually because the akuma attacks at that time had been longer than usual (or more numerous than usual) or because Adrien had spent too much time on the Ladyblog. If Adrien mentioned that he didn't have enough time to study or do a quality job on his homework, Nathalie would rearrange his schedule at once to give him more time, canceling extra lessons for a week or two while Adrien got himself caught up.

Marinette's activities could largely be framed as self-imposed, but there were so many of them that it was honestly a miracle that she could balance everything.

Or...maybe less a miracle and more a necessity, because she just couldn't say no and people took advantage of that. Like, a lot.

"It's not that bad this week!" Marinette told Plagg on their third evening together as she finished hand-sewing a seam on a doll that someone- Plagg had neither caught the name nor cared- had commissioned from her so that they would be done and put away before Alya and Nino brought their siblings over for Marinette to babysit so that the two of them could run off and suck face together instead of being responsible older siblings. "Sometimes I have commissions and tests and other stuff all in one week. Tikki helps me study, sometimes. And then other weeks, I have almost nothing and I can catch up."

...seriously, how was she living like this?

"I didn't hear them asking you to babysit," Plagg said instead of vocalizing any of his concerns, because he couldn't give away his lazy cat reputation right away. "What, did I sleep through that or something?"

"No, it's... it's kind of an ongoing thing, I guess." Marinette didn't look at all enthused about that. "They asked once, a few months ago, and I said yes then because they sounded so excited about this movie that was running and they wouldn't be able to catch it during their normal date time on the weekend, and they, uh..."

"Took that as a standing invitation to keep doing it," Plagg filled in, entirely unimpressed. "Wow. Great friends you have there. What if there's an akuma attack while you're babysitting? What if you have stuff to do? Don't you have a test to study for on Friday?"

Marinette's shoulders hitched up, just a little. "I just- I'll study tomorrow, over lunch. Then I can catch up. And I'll tell my parents that I can't play video games with them until Friday evening at the earliest."

"So let me get this straight- you don't get any free time so that your friends can have more free time to go groom each other's faces?" Plagg demanded. "Fun trade-off you have going on there. Also, I didn't hear an answer about the akuma thing."

"I just like helping!" Marinette protested. "That's- that's all, really. I can handle it."

And that was the end of that conversation. Even with Plagg's increasingly heavy-handed comments, Marinette seemed determined to ignore the issue and assure him that she could handle it. Even when Twin No. 2 pulled the pinned pieces of fabric off of Marinette's mannequin and spilled a box of sewing machine threads, taking away an hour of Marinette's sleep as she tried to put everything back together. Even when one of her classmates asked Marinette to fix a torn shirt right away, eating up half an hour of her study time. Even when Manon got dumped on Marinette for a bit of emergency last-minute babysitting with absolutely no warning and without really asking her if it was okay.

Seriously, did no one else notice how much work they were dumping on her? Even without taking her superhero activities into account, it was a lot. With the superhero activities, it was crossing the border into too-muchland. And if Marinette wanted to do anything fun? Anything for her?

There just wasn't any time.

Had Tikki said nothing? Plagg knew that she was all about being productive and staying busy and making the most of opportunities and potential and helping people, but not to the point of running her Chosen into the ground!

Thankfully, Plagg was going to get another week with Marinette. Tikki had requested an extension under the guise of Adrien needing more time to actually figure out how to use Ladybug's powers, since during their one swapped-Miraculous battle so far, Lady Noire had told Mister Bug how to use the Lucky Charm that he had gotten. To Plagg, she had said something about teaching Adrien to enforce his boundaries.

Well, okay, maybe she had been a little more specific than that, but Plagg had gotten distracted by the news and had been trying to think of how he could knock Marinette out of the frankly toxic mindset that she had been pushed into when Tikki was talking and so he hadn't quite caught all of the details. But the gist of it was that Adrien didn't push back enough when people made him uncomfortable and Tikki was working on changing that somehow.

Plagg wished her luck. His advice whenever Adrien had commented on people clinging to him had been to bite them. Or, alternatively, shove them off. Adrien had been horrified by both suggestions, and that whole thing had gone nowhere.

Nowhere, like how things with Marinette seemed to be going. But it was the weekend now, and so Plagg had time to absolutely drive Marinette up the wall until she cracked enough for him to drag her frustrations out and actually push her towards doing something about them besides just "work harder".

It would be more effort than he normally put in, but Paris needed Ladybug to be rested and focused and not overwhelmed with responsibilities. If she fell and Adrien was left to fight on his own...

Plagg wanted to believe in his kid, he really did, but Adrien had a habit of relying largely on Ladybug to lead the battles and decide a course of action. If Ladybug fell in battle, or if she ended up akumatized because of all of the pressure that was being put on her...

Well, it wouldn't be pretty.

So naturally, Plagg decided to antagonize Marinette. And by that, he meant that he presented her with a list of completely unreasonable demands for her to fulfill since they were going to be spending a second week together, and he kept ramping it up until she had gone from being mildly irritated to gritting her teeth to being so frustrated that she was on the brink of screaming at him.

And then, very deliberately, he pushed her that little bit more.

"I can't!" Marinette finally snapped at him, glaring at Plagg with a poisonous expression. "I just can't! You're asking too much- I'm busy, and you know that! I need time to sleep and study and get caught up on my school projects and work on that draft of Clara's dress and do my class rep duties and I just told you that I have to remake Ivan's Kitty Section mask because it fell in the river and I don't! Have! Time! To do a special run to the cheese market all the way across the city to find some really rare cheese that might not even be in stock this week, and I don't have time to make you a special embroidered bed with thirty-three pillows or a monogrammed bathrobe, and I don't have time to do anything on your list, really! I already don't have any time to myself, and you're not! Helping!"

"But I require it," Plagg said haughtily, though he was keeping a careful eye on the window. If he was going to wind Ladybug up, he had to make sure that he could pull the plug if needed. "You make everything else work, don't you?"

"Barely!" Marinette was barely holding it together, he could tell. There were frustrated tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. "I'm so busy this weekend, and I have more tests this week and I'm already so worried that I'm going to fail because I don't have time to study, and if there are any akuma attacks this week then I'm absolutely screwed, because I'll fall behind again and won't have time to catch up!"

Very deliberately, Plagg yawned as wide as possible and then made a show of inspecting his (nonexistent) claws. "Mm-hmm. So...about the cheese-"

"NO!" Marinette half-shrieked. "No, no, no, I refuse. I can't, I literally can't, so no, I am not eating up even more of my sleeping time just so that I can go across the town and comb through some out-of-the-way cheese shop to find some cheese that they might have. I cannot. I'm tired of giving up all of my free time to bend over backwards and meet everyone's expectation, okay? Enough!"

There was a pause, and then Plagg smirked.

"So you can say no. I was starting to wonder."

Marinette's eyes snapped to him, still glimmering with frustrated, stressed tears. The first one finally broke free and started to make its way down her cheek. "Huh?"

"You say yes to everything that people ask of you, no matter how much it inconveniences you. No matter how busy you already are. Even if you want to do your own things, and other people are being selfish in their requests on your time." Plagg zipped around Marinette's head, forcing her to spin around to follow his progress. "How many of the things that you have coming up this week aren't necessary? How many are other people's responsibilities that they're shoved onto you? Aren't you supposed to have a vice president to help you with your class representative duties? Why is other people's free time more important than yours? Why are other people setting deadlines for you when you're the one who has to work under them and you'd prefer a deadline later on, so that it doesn't coincide with tests and result in you pushing yourself so hard?"

Marinette swallowed hard, not saying anything as she stared at him. She was still shaking, and even if Plagg wasn't nearly as attuned to emotions as Nooroo, he could still tell that she was brimming with frustrations, all ready to come out.

So, if Marinette was actually being truthful with him and with herself, he might as well get it all out.

"So if we're being honest, how do you feel about the babysitting?" Plagg prompted, zipping closer. "About giving up your free time so that your friends can run off and suck face more? About having three rambunctious kids running around your room for hours and tearing everything up? Do you like that?"

Marinette wavered for a moment, but clearly he had done a good job with pushing her frustrations to the top. "I hate it! It's fine some weeks, but most weeks I don't have time to deal with getting distracted for three hours and then having at least an hour of clean-up afterwards! I have homework and commissions and superheroing and- and everything to do! And Alya has the Ladyblog, but clearly she's not lacking for time to work on it considering some of the highlight videos that she's put up recently. And there are weeks where they ask me to babysit more than once, even though I don't have time for it, and- actually, it's not so much asking so much as telling me that they'll need me to babysit, because they just assume that I'll be able to do it!" Another frustrated tear slid down her face. "And then they have more free time and I have less, and I'm already starting with less free time than they have, and they- they know that!"

Plagg hovered and waited for her to get it all out.

"I thought that the babysitting would be a one-time thing, that's why I agreed- well, that and the fact that I just can't- can't say no," Marinette said, finally starting to sound actually angry. "And they know that, and it just feels like they're taking advantage of that because they want more than one date per week- and it's more than two, too, if you count the times when they eat lunch together at the park or outside of school! And they always talk about what a fun time they had, and how nice it was to be able to spend some time together and relax, and then here I am, not having fun or relaxing at all!"

...okay, so there was maybe more frustration there than Plagg had been expecting.

"I'd be much happier if I didn't have to babysit anyone besides Manon, and only Manon if I get some warning and actually get asked," Marinette continued, fiercely wiping away yet another tear before it could get too far. "I'd get some time back to myself. It wouldn't make everything better, but it would take off a lot of stress- but they don't see that! They're apparently blind to everything except for their dates! Never mind that Marinette is falling asleep in class or that she's working on homework literally whenever she can fit it in, let's add some more stuff to her plate!"

If Marinette got akumatized while Plagg was with her, Tikki would actually kill him. So maybe it was time for Plagg to step in.

"So say no," Plagg cut across before any purple butterflies showed up. "You can, I know you can. Set boundaries. I've seen you stand up to people before. What's different this time?"

Marinette glanced at the floor, worrying her lip. After a moment, she sighed and looked up. "Because they're my friends. And when Madam Chamack shows up with Manon, she's a family friend and an adult. And I don't want to let them down."

"Yay! Honesty! Almost as good as cheese." Plagg smirked at her eye-roll. She was still a little wobbly-looking, but a small distraction was good. "If they're taking advantage of you to the point where you're stressed and strung out and they still don't back off, then is letting them down a little really the bigger evil?"

There was a pause, and then Marinette shook her head.

"Are you the only babysitter in Paris?"

That got a laugh out of Marinette. "Not even close."

"Is there some law that says that they can only ask you to babysit?"

"...no."

"Do they need to respect your needs and boundaries if they're your friends?"

Finally, Marinette smiled. "Yeah. I- I'll tell Alya next time I see her that if they want to go on a date when they're supposed to be babysitting, they need to find someone else. I can't do it anymore. Even on my slower weeks, I just- I need a break from their siblings." Then she paused, suddenly unsure. "Is- is that selfish? To not help out on weeks when I can spare the time?"

Plagg paused for a moment, still stuck on that when they're supposed to be babysitting. That sounded a whole lot like Alya and Nino were shirking their responsibilities without their parents knowing, which made the whole situation even worse, but that- that was beside the point right now. He could pick at that little tidbit later. Instead, he yawned, flopping down on the desk. Now that Marinette's emotions had stabilized again, he could get back to his normal careless persona. "Who cares? If you get a slow week, in my eyes, you earned it and get to enjoy it. Sit back, sleep in some sunbeams, eat some cheese..."

Marinette laughed at that, her shoulders relaxing just that little last bit. "Thanks, Plagg." Then she paused, glancing over at him. "I'm still not getting you your crazy fancy cheese, though. Or any of that other ridiculous stuff."

Plagg did his best to hide his grin. "Ah, well. It was worth a try."

By the time Monday rolled around, Marinette had gotten all of her pent-up and packed-away emotions worked out and had started an action plan list on how to become less stressed. The name had made Plagg gag- action plan? That sounded like a lot of work!- but after seeing the list, Plagg had to admit that it wasn't nearly as bad as it sounded.

First of all, there was the end of all babysitting for her friends for her foreseeable future and Marinette had told her parents that she would only babysit Manon when it was an emergency, and she reserved the right to say no without being questioned as to why she couldn't do it.

That was important for her to say up front so the adults wouldn't try to make her feel guilty by questioning why she wanted her free time for herself, and Plagg was proud of her for doing it- not, of course, that he was going to let that on too much. She would think that he was getting soft on her.

The second part of her plan was entirely Marinette's idea, though she was giving Plagg the credit. No longer was she going to let other people set inconvenient commission deadlines for her when they could easily wait a week for their pieces and put not even a quarter of the amount of stress on Marinette. And while she was more than willing to help people with their problems, she wasn't going to take over their responsibilities for them, and if they had something that, say, needed mending but wasn't needed right away, it might have to sometimes wait a day or two until Marinette could actually spare the time. She would actually use her calendar for keeping track of her own deadlines out a ways, and then all of her activities and responsibilities would be spread out and more manageable instead of hitting her with all the grace of a brick wall.

All of this, of course, was easier said than done. People had gotten used to Marinette shoving aside absolutely everything that she was doing to help them that second, and no doubt some people might question the change and that might be hard to stand up to- especially if Tikki was in Marinette's ear and trying to convince her that she could manage just one more thing. But Marinette seemed determined to stick to her plan.

Which was great! Now Plagg could just sit back, relax, and enjoy the cheese bread that he was getting in place of his Camembert (he would have asked for a baked Camembert bread bowl, but, well, Marinette did have exams coming up and even without the babysitting and with the deadlines for her other, non-school stuff pushed back, she was a bit busy). Marinette seemed to have a handle on how to most effectively use his powers, which wasn't surprising. Back when she and Adrien were starting out, she had given him directions on what he should be using his Cataclysm on more often than not. Learning how to use the staff to helicopter herself around had taken a little practice and it was obvious that she didn't have the fencing background that Adrien did, but she could batter stuff into submission just fine.

In fact, just fine was maybe a little bit of an understatement. Her battering was actually kind of terrifying. Not that Plagg was worried about his own life, of course- the ability to phase through things came in handy at times- but, well...

Adrien had made a mistake. Or perhaps Plagg should say Mister Bug had made a mistake.

During the previous akuma battle, Lady Noire had apparently made some comment about how Mister Bug's outfit was more interesting than her usual one, just as a little side comment. Plagg was willing to bet that she had been glancing at Mister Bug's outfit to try to get ideas to change her own usual suit, but that was neither here nor there. Instead of simply accepting the comment and moving on, Mister Bug had said that he was close to the fashion industry, so of course he had creative design ideas and did she maybe want him to help her come up with a new design for her Ladybug suit?

Plagg had winced at both that and the dog-whistle pitch that Marinette had reached while relaying that particular comment. Mister Bug was really, really lucky that the akuma had made a reappearance right then so that Lady Noire hadn't had time to respond.

"Okay, so I gotta have a talk with my kid and tell him to shut his big fat mouth, got it!" Plagg said loudly before Marinette could descend any further into displeased mutters. He had frankly been incredibly surprised to find out that Ladybug's civilian self was so interested- and so successful- at design and fashion when he first learned her identity, but after talking with Tikki and finding out how unsure Marinette had been when she first transformed...yeah, okay, he could understand the footie pajamas look. It probably had just become too engrained for her to consider changing it before. "Though I wouldn't be surprised if Tikki has already told him the same thing."

Marinette finally giggled, some of her murder look finally slipping off of her face. "I can't see Tikki ever telling anyone to shut their 'big fat mouth'."

"She might word it a bit differently, whatever." Plagg landed on Marinette's desk, confident (at least for the time being) that she wasn't going to go berserker on him. "So, redesigning the Ladybug suit?"

"I didn't realize that I could, before." Marinette tapped her fingers against her desk before reaching for her notebook and a pencil. "I just- I'm used to what I have now. And I know that I shouldn't design anything that could snag, or get in my way, or- I don't know." She frowned. "That leaves me with- what? Black paneling and trim?"

"And armor and padding," Plagg added helpfully. He paused, then lowered his voice conspiringly. "My kid doesn't actually have a six-pack or ripped arms. The suit just makes it look that way, because that's what he wants."

Marinette giggled some more.

"And the way his costume looks has less to do with design and more to do with his obsession with all things anime," Plagg continued loftily, yawning widely. "And comics and magical girl cartoons. I just put his wishes together in a tasteful manner."

"I like this whole exchange kwamis thing. I'm learning quite a bit." Marinette tapped her pencil against her lips, then started sketching. "I want to be careful about where I put any armor, I think. I need to stay flexible and not have excess resistance when I'm dodging. But maybe some protection on my arms and legs would be good, and if I put some black here..."

Plagg let out a relieved breath as Marinette threw herself into her sketches, Mister Bug's comment apparently forgotten in favor of designing, and tried not to think of how close Adrien had come to getting gutted for implying that he was better at design than a contest-winning aspiring fashion designer.

Hopefully that was all the drama there would be for this week, because Plagg wasn't sure how much more he could take.

Plagg clearly needed to stop thinking that his job was done. Every time he did- every time that he thought that maybe now he could nap the day away instead of sitting alert and making sure that Marinette wasn't crashing and burning with her resolution to not get herself crazy overworked- something came up.

Thankfully, it wasn't the reporter girl trying to get Marinette to change her mind about babysitting again after having taken the day before off. No, she seemed to have accepted Marinette's decision well enough. But it did have something to do with the reporter girl. The reporter girl, and his regular Chosen.

So naturally, Plagg had to get involved.

If someone had asked Plagg before to describe Marinette, he would have said that she was confident, yet sometimes randomly turned into a tongue-tied mess around Adrien.

...there may have been some misconceptions there.

He was partially right, of course. It would have been hard to be completely off, considering how much time his Chosen spent talking about his friends. But the panicking...

Yeah, not random. Not random at all.

Plagg watched with no small amount of bemusement as Marinette got pretty much railroaded into coming along on an outing with her friends where the goal was clearly to shove Adrien and Marinette together so that Marinette would have some space to ask Adrien out. Marinette clearly wasn't comfortable with the idea (and Plagg didn't blame her- he had, unfortunately, seen the results of what he could only assume were similar set-ups), but Alya clearly wasn't taking no for an answer.

...seriously, was this the girl who had pretty much branded herself Best Friend of the Year? Couldn't she see how panicky Marinette was getting?

Plagg sank back into the bag, frowning at the air. Okay, so he couldn't be his usual brush-off self here, that much was obvious. That was not what Marinette needed. Her emotions were already high enough, and that was dangerous.

What was Tikki doing in these situations? Was she just encouraging Marinette along? That seemed likely, but couldn't she tell when endless encouragement just wasn't helping? It seemed like Alya shoving Marinette into situations she wasn't ready for could easily turn into prime akumatization territory, considering how often it seemed to end in anything ranging from embarrassment to full-on humiliation. Add in the fact that both of them knew that Adrien was pretty much entirely hung up on his superhero partner (and had been minorly distracted by Fencer Girl, but that- Plagg knew that that wasn't serious at all), and trying to get Marinette to confess just didn't seem like a good idea at all.

Seriously, when had he turned into the kwami who did all of the advice stuff? It was weird and he didn't like it.

"How often does that happen?" Plagg asked as Marinette dropped her phone back onto the desk with a groan. "When she tries to set you up when you don't want to, I mean?"

Marinette had to think about it. "Bigger set-ups like this? Every other week, maybe? Smaller things at school...whenever she can manage it, really. And since she's dating Adrien's best friend..."

Plagg could fill in the blanks there. It was happening really, really frequently.

Well.

"Doesn't seem like she's being that great of a friend if she's not listening to you when you say no," Plagg said, making sure to adopt his laziest voice. He threw in a toothy yawn for good measure as he rolled into a ray of sunlight. "Especially when you're practically melting down over the idea."

"I just- I just need a push or I'll never do it, that's all!" Marinette defended at once. Plagg suspected that that was what she had had Alya tell her over and over before, and ugh, how had Ladybug ended up with so many bad lessons drummed into her head? "I mean, maybe I'll be uncomfortable when I confess, but if I actually manage it- and if things go well, I guess..."

By the way she trailed off, Plagg deduced that she was trying to convince herself, too.

"Do I gotta make you cry again so that you'll be honest with yourself and with me, or can we skip the excuses this time?" Plagg asked bluntly, and was faintly amused to see the startled way that Marinette blinked at him. "How do you feel about the whole situation?"

There was a pause. Plagg waited. Then...

"I don't like it."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Sorry, I didn't hear that. Repeat louder, please?"

"Ugh, you're so annoying!" Marinette scowled at him, but that didn't last long. "Fine, I don't like it! I always feel so uncomfortable and make a fool of myself and maybe Alya finds that amusing, but I don't! Adrien is going to think that I'm a complete nutcase and then even if I ever do manage a confession without immediately walking it back again, he's not going to be interested! Not that he's interested now- I know he likes someone else, but Alya always insists that maybe he would change his mind if he knew that I liked him, which- how likely is that, really? Maybe it worked for her and Nino, but that's an exception to the rule!"

Plagg settled in. It seemed like this was going to be a long rant.

"And I tried letting Adrien go and moving on before, but they said that I couldn't give up!" Marinette continued, and Plagg cocked a brow at that. Oh, THAT was interesting. Also something he could use. "And I don't- I mean, I understand the value of staying positive, but I just don't..." She sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I don't know if it's realistic anymore."

"Well, at least we've gotten past the denial stage," Plagg commented. He had wondered. Instead of saying that, he shuffled into a more comfortable position and turned an eye to watch Marinette. "D'you ever feel comfortable around model kid?"

"Yes! We're friends now, and we can talk most of the time. It's just when I'm expected to be trying to ask him out that I get all tongue-tied and make a fool of myself." Marinette flopped back in her chair and- yeah, she and Adrien were meant to be together. They were both crazy dramatic people. "I just don't know what to do."

Plagg snorted. "Isn't it obvious? Don't try asking him out, duh. Problem solved."

Marinette narrowed her eyes at him, suddenly suspicious. "Why do I get the feeling that you're trying to get me to give up on my crush so that I'll date Chat Noir instead?"

Plagg snorted, resisting the urge to bash his head against the wall. "D'you really think I want my kitten dating? He's sappy enough when he's just at crush stage. And he would be even more self-sacrificing if you two were dating, and that's already gotten real old, real fast."

Marinette's wary expression stayed in place for a minute longer, and then it dropped as she glanced away. "I- I can see where that would make sense, but if I don't at least try, I just feel guilty for not making use of the opportunities Alya sets up for me. Like, that just feels rude somehow."

Plagg snorted. "The opportunities that pretty much get dropped into her lap because of her boyfriend and that she's set up even though literally everything about you is telling her no, you don't want to and aren't ready? How very generous of her to keep going against your wishes."

He didn't get a response to that. He hadn't expected one.

Plagg forged on anyway. "Like, kid, I've been with you- what? A week and a half? And I could tell that you didn't want to get pushed into confessing again, so it's not as though you aren't being plenty obvious about it. And clearly the 'shove you in the deep end and hope you swim' method isn't working. It's not suddenly going to start working. And if model boy already likes someone..."

"Then I'm just setting myself up for disappointment and failure," Marinette finished. Her expression- no, her entire being- drooped, but then she straightened back up, and this time, it was like a weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. Which kind of seemed like the opposite of what should have happened, but maybe the whole 'keeping her hopes up' thing had been harder on Marinette than he had thought. "So I should just give up on my crush, then."

"I mean, it might be a good idea." Adrien would 100% chop Plagg's cheese supply in half if he knew that Plagg was encouraging Ladybug to stop crushing on civilian-him, but it was better than Marinette actually working up the courage to confess, only for Adrien to reject civilian-Ladybug and potentially mess up their friendship. "Or at least, like, not act on it. If your friend sets up 'opportunities', then just hang out with model-kid as friends. And, uh." He waved at the pictures on the wall. "I mean, if you want this kid to come over and hang out..."

Marinette drooped, and seriously, her spine was getting one hell of a workout with this conversation. "He's already seen them. When we had Jagged Stone over here, he missed seeing the bathroom and came up here and broadcast live to all of Paris. And Adrien was watching. But now he thinks I just have them because I'm a fan of his father's designs!" she added quickly, as though Plagg didn't know that already. Adrien had been rather puzzled by that explanation at first, Plagg knew, but had decided to just accept it eventually.

"It might still be weird for him to come over and have his face staring back at him all over the place," Plagg said helpfully instead. "'Specially if he's the only model that you have featured on your wall."

That made Marinette pause.

"Just something to think about," Plagg added airily. "That, and the fact that I've already heard your friend complain twice about you missing stuff when you were out fighting akumas, so if you were dating someone..."

Marinette caught on right away and she threw her head back and groaned. "You're so right! How did I not think of that? Even if Adrien did like me, even if I did actually successfully ask him out, even if he did say yes- I would be just like his father, flaking out on him all of the time! We'd never last, and I'd just end up hurting him in the process. And that means that it wouldn't ever have been a good idea to try to move on from him with Luka," she added. "And I shouldn't even think of dating before Hawkmoth is defeated."

Plagg breathed a little internal sigh of relief. Thank goodness. Crisis averted. Marinette wouldn't date anyone until Hawkmoth was defeated, then they could do their little reveal, find out that her partner had been model boy all along, and start dating and being all mushy. No one would be dating anyone else and mucking things up, and they would be in a good enough mood that he might be able to persuade Adrien to buy him the really fancy cheese.

...or they would be so busy being mushy and gross with each other that they would forget about Plagg and he would go unfed, but he was trying to think positive.

"So what are you going to do on your little outing tomorrow?" Plagg asked, rolling over so that he would stay in the middle of his sunbeam. "Are you going?"

"It would be nice to. I have time." Marinette sent him a small smile, and Plagg grinned in response. "Besides, if I don't go, then Adrien will be third-wheeling for Alya and Nino, and that's no fun. I would know, I've definitely done it plenty. And the last time he got to come out, it was on a group outing and Lila spent most of the time clinging to his arm, which is also no fun."

"Mmm."

"Lila was Volpina and Chameleon," Marinette told him, as if Plagg didn't already know that- and okay, maybe he wasn't supposed to know that, whatever. "The liar. She's been pretty much completely discredited now by our class, but she still likes trying to cling, even though it's obvious Adrien hates it. Last I heard, she was trying to claim that she just wanted to fit in and that was why she had made up all of the stories she did, but I don't think anyone has bought that."

"I'm surprised she got to come along on the class outing at all," Plagg commented. He had said the same thing to Adrien at the time, and-

Marinette sighed. "We don't really exclude people when it's an entire class outing, or Chloe wouldn't have been invited to most of the stuff we've done. There's some stuff like birthday parties where we don't have the entire class come, but everything else..."

-Adrien had given the exact same excuse, almost word-for-word.

"At least Chloe's been better recently," Marinette added absently as she reached for her mouse to wake up her computer. "Ever since Adrien put his foot down with her, she's really been trying to improve. And then when Chloe behaves better, Sabrina behaves better. So we don't mind having them along as much, it's just Lila being an annoyance now."

Ah-hah. An opening! Tikki was apparently still having trouble with getting Adrien to enforce his boundaries (because he was dense as a fruitcake and didn't understand that he could have boundaries, seemingly) and Master Fu had said no on a third consecutive week's swap, which meant that they had to try something different. And different might, in this case, mean using a friend as their mouthpiece.

"Maybe you could help Adrien get Lila off of him," Plagg suggested. "He would probably appreciate that."

Marinette paused, glancing over at him. "...I guess that would be a good idea. I mean, I know Nino's mentioned it a few times before, but..."

Okay, maybe this would be harder than Plagg thought. But Adrien had to catch on eventually. Maybe. Hopefully.

...a kwami could hope.

By the time Plagg was returned to Adrien on Sunday evening, they had accomplished several things.

First of all- and most importantly, in Master Fu's eyes- Ladybug and Chat Noir had a deeper understanding of each other's powers and would be able to use the other person's Miraculous in an emergency. Adrien had used Lucky Charm without help from Ladybug several times in a row now, and well, Marinette had mastered the baton. But that wasn't all.

Marinette had gotten her schedule sorted out and the perfection complex addressed, and seemed to have figured out how to use the word no. She had successfully gone on their friend group's outing without stuttering at all around Adrien, and while Alya seemed a bit miffed that Marinette hadn't even tried to ask him out, Adrien seemed plenty pleased to have been able to hold a normal conversation with Marinette.

(Although a 'normal conversation' was not what Plagg personally would have called it. They had started out a little awkward after Alya unceremoniously dragged Nino off- and that was something that maybe should have been addressed, because Plagg knew that Adrien was missing spending as much time as he used to with Nino- but after Marinette had accidentally punned and Adrien had lit up in utter delight, they had ended up spending a great deal of time giggling over absolutely ridiculous puns together. Then Adrien had decided to be dramatic about something- a pun that Marinette had pretended not to be impressed by, if Plagg's memory was serving him correctly- and, well, they were pretty hopeless after that. Calling them normal would be completely and utterly inaccurate.)

Marinette had even managed to score a point on the 'enforce Adrien's personal space' board by commenting on Lila's insistence on clinging to Adrien's arm when he was clearly uncomfortable with it and throwing in the word 'harassment', just loud enough for a nearby teacher to overhear. Madam Mendeleev had been on the case at once, and from what Plagg had heard, Lila had gotten detention and Adrien had finally been convinced that he didn't have to put up with unwanted clinging, thanks in large part to their teacher's intervention.

It was a very devious way of going about that, but Plagg couldn't say that he didn't approve, because he very much approved. If he had been assigned to Marinette from the start- well, she might have been a better fit with Tikki, but she would have made a fantastic Black Cat as well.

"Did you have a good week?" Adrien wanted to know as Plagg wolfed down a giant wedge of Camembert. Cheese bread had been good and it was always good to mix things up, but Camembert was always going to be Plagg's true love. "Tikki was loads of fun!"

"Oh, yeah, all smooth sailing," Plagg lied at once, choosing not to tell Adrien about having made Ladybug cry. It was all for the greater good, after all. Besides, Tikki would probably end him herself once she found out. Then, a thought struck him, and oh, yeah, he probably should say something before Ladybug transformed again with her new suit and Adrien decided to open his big mouth and comment on it. "But Adrien?"

"Yeah?"

"Do me a favor and don't say anything that might sound like you're implying that you're a better designer than Ladybug," Plagg demanded, remembering the absolute ire that he had felt zing through Lady Noire when Mister Bug had made his comment. "If you value your life. Seriously. Don't."

Adrien has the audacity to look puzzled. "Wait, why? I was just trying to offer some help!"

"Can't tell you. Identity stuff." Adrien would be kicking himself as soon as they did the reveal, whenever that was, but he just had to have an ounce of self-preservation between now and then. When they did, though...

Well, based on what Plagg had seen over the past two weeks, the reveal would go really well. By the time it happened, Marinette and Adrien were pretty much guaranteed to be fantastic friends. There would be feelings on both sides, he was willing to bet, and while Plagg was already gearing himself up for plenty of moaning about how gross the two of them were together, well...

After doing so much to save the city, the two of them deserved some cuddly mushiness. He could tolerate it.

#Miraculous Ladybug #my writing #marinette dupain cheng #Plagg #we support healthy character growth in this house #healthy character growth and not punishing Marinette for being human #*side eyes the show some more*

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iamtheblondestblonde · 4 years

Text

Slides and Serendipity

Part Three (4.3k)

Part One Part Two

AN: Here comes part three. Are you happy with the lengths of the chapters or do you think I should split them up into smaller parts? Feedback is appreciated as always and enjoy

Warnings: Language because Tyler is Tyler

The next morning I woke up with a pounding head. Even chugging water before going to sleep had not helped to prevent the hangover that was now haunting me. I didn’t even want to imagine how Tyler felt as he’d had way more to drink than I did but least he had the day off.

A cold shower and changing into a comfortable outfit made things better but I still would’ve loved to stay in bed all day.

Yogi didn’t care about my headache of course and wanted attention as soon as I stumbled into the living room downstairs. After throwing his favorite ball a few times in the backyard I could at least convince him to come cuddling with me on the sofa.

At that point my mind went back to the previous night and the way Tyler had looked at me all evening. On a whim I pulled my phone out to shoot a text to Tyler.

Me: Are you up yet?

I didn’t have to wait long until he sent back a picture of himself buried under Gerry on the couch, similar to my own position. Even sleepy he looked hot as hell, which was definitely not fair to everyone else on this planet.

Tyler: Barely.. My headache is so bad I didn’t even manage to make breakfast yet

I hadn’t gotten that far yet either so I suggested making breakfast together, mostly because I was too lazy to do all the work by myself and also because even though I had only seen him a couple of hours ago, I wouldn’t mind looking at this fine male specimen again.

I wasn’t really in the mood for walking and I definitely shouldn’t be driving in my stage so I decided on the easiest option, putting on roller skates and having Yogi pull me over to Tyler’s house. Perks of having a Husky mix. We had done this a couple of times over the last month and each time I had to do less work in my skates. Yogi was growing up so fast and his genes made him the perfect partner for stuff like this, in a couple of weeks I could probably stop skating altogether and only yell directions.

Tyler waited for me at the front gate to his house and started laughing as soon as he saw Yogi dragging me across the street. He opened the iron gates and then filmed us as Yogi kept running to his front door.

“Before you accuse me of anything, he loves this!”, I yelled over my shoulder as we passed him but I had to laugh as well. I knew we probably looked ridiculous but at least it was great exercise for the dog.

“Do you think I could get one of mine to do this with me?”, Tyler asked as I took of the skates in his doorway, letting Yogi off the leash.

“No way. Cash and Marshall are too lazy and with Gerry you’d end up flat on your ass in five seconds. One squirrel is all it’d take to ruin your day but you’re welcome to come with us sometime. I think you’re too heavy for him to pull though, he can barely do me.”

His pout made me laugh, which kind of didn’t make my headache any more enjoyable but he knew there was absolutely no way Yogi could pull him the way he’d just pulled me.

“You make it sound like I’m fat, this is all muscle baby”, Tyler joked, pulling up the hem of his shirt and flexing. I already knew that he was definitely anything but fat from feeling him up the day before, but I wasn’t going to turn down or interrupt the show he was currently giving me so I kept giving him unimpressed looks.

“You still probably weigh twice as much as I do so that’s too much for Yogi but I could probably do it, it’ll be a great workout for me”

With the way his face lit up at my idea nobody would have been able to guess that this guy probably spent half his life skating around and actually enjoying it, no matter if on or off the ice.

“I’ll definitely take you up on that but let’s do that sometime when I don’t feel like there’s a techno rave going on inside my head”

With that we moved on to the kitchen and Tyler put on some music as background noise for our cooking. Yogi was outside, happily chasing Tyler’s dogs around and taking full advantage of the pool. Rifling through his fridge I pulled out some fruits for smoothies and to snack while he prepared everything for ‘The Best Hangover Breakfast’, aka grilled cheese sandwiches. I was cutting up some watermelon and humming along to the music when Tyler spoke up.

“My friends and teammates have all been texting me nonstop about you, they probably like you better than me already”

His comment made me smile but I was unsure what to respond for a moment. As much as I enjoyed my time with him, I knew what everyone else said about him and it was stuff like this that could cause lots of problems for me in the future if I wasn’t careful.

“That’s because I’m way nicer than you are but they’ll probably never let us play beer pong together again”, I deflected, desperately trying to keep things at a platonic level where I felt comfortable.

“How are you so good at that by the way? I didn’t really peg MIT students as the type of people who would be good at frat party games”

“You’d be surprised really, you’re constantly under so much pressure that you need a way of blowing off some steam and smart people usually have the dumbest ideas. In my junior year for example we were throwing a party in our dorm and calculated the exact number of toilets we needed to flush in order to break the plumbing system. We didn’t really think far ahead though, because we had to use the showers and toilets in other dorms for over a week after that”, I told him and he burst out in a giggle that would have most sorority girls proud, gripping the counter so he wouldn’t fall over. His ridiculous laugh was so infectious that I had to laugh as well, still immensely fond of all the crazy things that had happened during college.

“Sometimes I wish I could’ve gone to college as well, from what I’ve heard most people have a blast there and I feel like I’ve missed out on a lot”, he told me after he’d calmed down, now turned around so he could look me in the eyes.

“I don’t know about that, you kinda got the best of both worlds. You didn’t have daily mental breakdowns during exam season and still got to attend frat parties and stuff. You also get to do something you love for a living, so your life doesn’t look too bad if you ask me”, I responded softly, getting the feeling that he truly did feel like he’d simply skipped over an important part in life. He smiled at me and we dropped the topic, instead continuing a more lighthearted conversation and taking our breakfast outside.

“I’m going to miss having all this time to myself soon. I still have two more weeks until my self-imposed deadline but I need to start buying stuff for my office and take care of all these other things”, I sighed, leaning back on my chair and closing my eyes to shut out the sun. I looked forward to being productive again, but I also really loved doing whatever I wanted whenever I wanted.

“I get what you mean. I have all those workouts and practice still but it’s nothing compared to when the season starts, especially when we want to make the playoffs again. I love hockey and I can’t wait to play again but it’s just a lot sometimes”, Tyler responded and I nodded understandingly.

“For you it’s worse because you’re in the spotlight all the time. If I fuck up that’s on me and reflects only on myself and maybe the people that I’m working with. People blame you for things you have no control over most of the time and get mad all the time”

He nodded and was quiet for a while after that, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. We were simply both lost in our thoughts but still enjoying each other’s presence. Eventually the pounding in my head subsided and Tyler must have felt better as well because he offered to show me around the house.

I was wrong about the waterslide into his pool being as extra as one could get because I hadn’t noticed the small lake with a goddamn fountain and private tennis court the day before.

“We’ll have to play sometime, I’ll wipe the floor with you”, I said after he told me that he didn’t really play that much. It was a mystery to me why he would need a private court in that case but that’s athletes, I guess. I wasn’t even that good myself but I was determined to beat him. He promised to end me in basketball in turn and he was probably right, because that sport had for obvious reasons, mostly my height and tiny hands, never been my forte.

The way he was proudly showing me all of his hockey related belongings was incredibly endearing and his comments were super cute. It was clear that he loved the game and that nothing could stop this passion and I admired him for it.

Quite a while later I made my way back to my house, Yogi almost not wanting to get out of the humongous pool. Once I had the roller skates back on, I got in the mood for it and for the next hour we casually continued skating around, although this time I didn’t let him do all the work. I really needed to stop slacking and look up nearby gyms soon or I could kiss all of my hard work on my body goodbye.

The rest of my Saturday afternoon was spent texting Katie about lunch and in front of my tablet, facetiming the girls so I could relay the events of the day before. Safe to say there was constant screaming, squealing and lots of questions being shot at me. Lisa was incredibly pleased with herself because her plan of getting Tyler’s attention had worked but Emily was worried that it had worked a little too well while Mara kept saying that I was living her dream.

“You need to tone it down a bit, I think. You said you didn’t want to risk your friendship through sleeping with him right now, so you need to make sure that things don’t get this heated again or you’re going to get hurt”, she said softly and I knew she had a point. Keeping my hands off of Tyler for now would be the only way to avoid unnecessary drama. I knew his type and while I usually didn’t mind hookups, famous athletes weren’t the best choice in that department.

“From what you’ve told he sounds incredibly sweet but don’t forget that that could all be an act to get you to sleep with him. Don’t shut him out completely though, just kinda slowly test the waters but stay in the shallow part if you know what I’m getting at”, Mara threw in and started wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. I wasn’t entirely sure I knew what she meant but I also didn’t know if I wanted an explicit explanation on what she considered the shallow part to be exactly.

“And if you really need to get laid to get it out of your system, I have some people in your area I can hook you up with, literally”, Lisa threw in and if there wasn’t a screen between us, I’d have smacked her across the head.

I decided to not have a lazy Sunday for once, as I’d literally had lazy days for almost two weeks straight. Instead I grabbed measuring tape and walked into the second living room, soon to be my office. For the next three hours I was busy measuring everything and slowly putting together a plan on my tablet while also cursing the US customary system of units. I had lived the last seven years in the US and while I had gotten used to the seemingly random numbers over time, I was still convinced that it was only implemented to fuck with people.

The room was thankfully big enough to fit a medium-sized conference table that I’d need and my own desk without feeling crowded. The big windows weren’t optimal because of the computer screens, but they were facing north at least. They would also help to not make this room look like a bunker once I finally had everything I needed.

Happy with the work I had done I finally relaxed on my couch with Yogi curled up on top of me. I was full on prepared to spend the rest of my day with him like this, but Tyler had other plans. We’d only met half a week ago and seen each other every day since, mostly out of his initiative and today would apparently be no different. He asked me if I wanted to watch some movies ‘with the children’ and I invited him over to my place along with the dogs.

Ten minutes later he was standing at my door in shorts and a deliciously tight t shirt, the dogs excitedly circling his legs before greeting me enthusiastically. Afterwards I leaned up to hug him while he joked that I only liked him for the dogs.

“It’s a big part I’m not gonna lie”, I teased and ushered him inside where our children were already running around and playing with each other. They got along so well and it was a very cute sight to see.

“Your place looks really beautiful by the way, you have a great taste for this stuff”, he commented, picking up a throw pillow from the couch to inspect it further. It wasn’t the first time he’d been to my house, but last time he had only really focused on the kitchen because we were both really hungry.

I took him on a little tour around the house and pointed out different things along the way while we updated each other on any possible news.

“This is going to be the office but it doesn’t look like much right now, I have to go and buy all of the stuff that I need sometime this week so don’t judge me”

“I’m not judging but if you need some help I can come with you. I think I have a noon practice when you’re getting lunch with the girls so you can come with them to the arena after and I can take you”, he offered and I mentally had a slack jaw out of surprise. This was nothing like the Tyler that was always portrayed in the media, but I wasn’t sure if it was an act like Mara said or if he was being genuine. I needed to be careful but at the same time I really wanted to figure out why he bothered being so nice with me.

The dogs were following us around of course and I picked up Yogi and carried him upstairs, explaining to Tyler that he was scared of stairs for some reason. He insisted on getting to carry Yogi back downstairs because he thought it was cute. We also kept stopping because he asked me all kinds of questions and demanded stories to most pictures so by the time we finished the tour my stomach was already announcing that it was time for dinner.

“What do you want to eat?”, I asked him once we were back in my kitchen.

“Don’t tell on me but I’ve been craving pizza all day”, he responded and I laughed because he might be 27 but from what I’ve learned so far he’d have the eating habits of a five year old if he could.

“Am I going to get you in trouble if I make us some?”, I asked, already mentally checking if I had all of the needed ingredients in the house.

“You’re going to make me pizza? I was actually thinking of just ordering some but now there’s no way I’m turning that down so it’s going to have to be our secret, I guess”

“I’m not going to make you pizza, we are going to make pizza for the both of us because I really think it’s about time you learn how to make anything besides grilled cheese”, I chided him on his terrible cooking skills. It was a mystery how he’d survived so long without barely any basic knowledge in the kitchen, but I was planning to change that from now on.

I was currently both enjoying and regretting that decision at the same time.

I leaned against the kitchen island next to Tyler, trying not to drool over the way his big hands were working on the dough. I could see his muscles working under that tight shirt and honestly kneading pizza dough should not be this sexy, but Tyler somehow made my thoughts go in directions that were anything but appropriate.

“Can you get my hair out of my face? There’s this one strand that just keeps fucking with me”, he cursed and I laughed, softly reaching up to help him out. He wasn’t wearing a snapback tonight and his hair was all over the place by now, which was kind of cute but also definitely kind of hot. At this point my body didn’t know how to react anymore.

I was taking pictures of him ‘to commemorate these first steps’ and while I couldn’t exactly post any on social media without causing a shitstorm, I sent some of them to the girls, making the groupchat explode with messages. Tyler made me film him and add it to his insta story so he could show off his new skill to the world

Gerry and Yogi joined us on the couch while we waited for the dough to rise. Cash was sprawled out on the floor and Marshall had made himself comfortable on Yogi’s bed. I let Tyler pick out a movie while trying to make myself comfortable next to him. He had one arm resting on the back of the couch and I gradually found myself snuggling closer as the time passed. I had just put my head down on his shoulder when my timer reminded me that we had food to attend to.

I showed Tyler how to properly roll it out and then let him take over. His first try was so terrible that I found myself documenting everything again but the second time around he was doing much better already. With some help from me we soon had two near perfectly round pieces of dough ready to be turned into deliciousness.

Tyler had called me an European pizza snob when I’d told him that I didn’t have any peperoni because I didn’t like the greasy fake taste of the sausage but he let me pick out substitutes for him to add instead. Soon the smell made waiting even harder and I couldn’t concentrate on the film anymore but Tyler rubbing circles on my back probably played a part in that as well.

“You might be a snob but you know how to make pizza like damn”, he exclaimed after taking the first bite and I smiled proudly. America had much to learn when it came to pizza and I was more than happy to broaden his horizon in that department.

“That’s why I try to avoid most Italian restaurants here, the food there doesn’t taste the way it’s supposed to and American lasagna is a disgrace to the Italian masterpiece “

“Like I said, snob”

Afterwards we were cuddled up on the couch again and Tyler let me pick out the next movie. I desperately tried to avoid anything with romance or sex in it because I wasn’t sure I could handle that with him so close to me right now. I was leaning against the armrest and this time Tyler was using my lap as a pillow. I tried to stop myself but eventually gave in and started to weave my hand through his hair, softly stroking his head.

He let out a low hum of pleasure and I couldn’t help the direction my thoughts were now going. This much sexual tension was not normal, was it?

“Now I know why my dogs like you so much, you give the best head scratches, especially with those long nails”, he said and I laughed softly, not knowing what to respond instead.

Halfway through the movie I fully lied down and Tyler put his head right below my boobs, wrapping an arm around my body. Now we were both fully reclined on my couch and he had to rest some of his weight on me so we could both fit but I didn’t mind. I kept my hand in his hair at first but eventually moved downwards, slowly and lightly raking my nails across his back the way I knew guys loved.

“Fuck, this feels so good”, he murmured against me and my mind went straight back to the gutter again. How could it not when he was saying stuff like that?!

By the end of the movie I was close to passing out and Tyler wasn’t any different. He slowly untangled himself from me and then called for his dogs, who had fallen asleep already. He thanked me for the pizza and everything else and then he was out the door, leaving me to fall into a peaceful slumber, my dreams filled with images of him.

On Monday a package arrived for me, even though I hadn’t ordered anything lately. I was suspicious to open it but was rewarded with a new pair of the Givenchy slides Gerry had ruined. There was even a note attached that read:

Still sorry that Gerry chewed on your shoes but I’m also happy I got to meet you because of that

-Tyler

The gesture was so sweet that I couldn’t stop smiling for the next couple of hours. I sent a picture of me wearing them to Tyler, thanking him for the present and another picture of the note to the girls, who were of course freaking out again.

The day after that Tyler texted me to see if I was up for an adventure after he finished his workout at noon, an invitation I’d never turn down.

Tyler: It’s not dog-friendly, but you’re going to love the aquarium here it’s awesome

He told me that one of his friends could watch the dogs, the same one who would sometimes watch them whenever he had to go on roadtrips during the season. He said that this way we wouldn’t have to rush through and could grab a bite to eat afterwards as well. His offer was hard to turn down, so I agreed and quickly showered before picking out a cute outfit and leaving to pick him up. It was time to get some more kilometers on my new car.

“Nice car, is that the SQ5?”, Tyler whistled as I parked in his driveway to let Yogi out, who immediately ran ahead to greet him.

“Get your facts straight dude, that’s the SQ8. I thought you were into cars?”, I teased and stood up un my tippy toes to hug him.

“I am but I never really got into Audis, although looking at that I might have to”, he responded grinning and I lightly swatted at his chest before walking inside where his friend was already waiting. I’d brought stuff for Yogi and made sure that he was comfortable before we said our goodbyes and left. We pulled out on the driveway and Tyler typed in the address of the aquarium.

I let him select one of his playlists and was surprised to hear Justin Bieber blasting through my speakers. This guy was truly unpredictable. It was quite the sight to see this 200-pound, burly and bearded guy loudly singing along and knowing all the words to ‘Love Yourself’ but the hilarity of it had me in tears soon enough. His song choices kept surprising me until we finally pulled into the parking lot. I locked the car and turned around to see Tyler looking at me as if he was trying to figure something out.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but how are you affording all of this? You live in our neighborhood, you wear 200$ slides to the dog park and you drive a car that I’m pretty sure costs well over 100 grand. Do you make this much from developing apps only or is there a side business that you haven’t told me about yet?”, he asked curiously and I mentally flinched.

I didn’t mind talking about money with Tyler per se, he was well off himself for all that mattered, but I always got embarrassed talking about my past. However, if I had to talk about the way I had made loads of money, I might as well do it with somebody who was racking in large sums as well. His life was crazy enough that he might understand me.

“Do you want the short answer or the full story?”

“The full story of course. I got all day baby”, he tried to lighten the mood and I had to laugh at the pet name.

“Consider this your heads up though, it gets kind of crazy at some points”, I warned, before starting at the beginning.

Part Four here

#Slides and Serendipity #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #nhl players #hockey writing #tyler seguin #dallas stars #dallas #fanfiction #hot hockey players #nhl

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radiikill · 4 years

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Coffee Shop Daydreams Chapter 1

It was around ten in the morning at Tokyo University, and Makoto Makimura was already feeling frustrated. She was looking over various notes she had compiled throughout the last couple of weeks and felt like tearing each of them to shreds. Most of the time she loved her courses, she was majoring in exercise science hoping to become a physical therapist. There were a few classes taken in the last two years of college that made her feel the temptation to drop out, and this was one of them. It was a gen-ed health science course, but the professor was an absolute jerk which ruined everything about the class.

As a result, it felt like she was teaching herself all the concepts.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming towards her table. She was in one of her favorite spots in the library, secluded in a corner hidden away by various bookshelves. Not many people came to this area, so she knew who to expect. She looked up at the man’s face and greeted him with a large smile, shuffling her papers away so he’d have room to sit.

The only saving grace of this class was that she was able to study with one of her closest friends in university, Taiga Saejima. Saejima was three years her senior, though many thought he looked older. He was a large muscular man with a stern face framed by his shoulder-length hair, which made it really easy to be intimidated by him.

They met in another gen-ed course her first year of college. They were paired together for a project, and though she was a little nervous to speak to him the determination to prove herself outweighed everything else. Looking back, Makoto realized that she probably was a stuttering mess. Especially since her Japanese was still fresh, she constantly messed up terms. But, Saejima never got frustrated with her struggles.

Presently, her Japanese has improved and her friendship with Saejima was strong. Many peers were shocked that she was friends with him. Makoto’s friend Joy once told her that she has a habit of attracting rather intimidating guys. Though, despite his imposing exterior, he was actually a very soft person. He was always very kind towards her but was also not afraid to call her out when she needed to be.

“How are you Saejima-kun?” she greeted.

“Not good,” Saejima said, “I fucking hate this class.”

Makoto giggled at the bluntness, agreeing with the sentiment.

“I don’t even know why I need this,” Saejima continued, “I don’t even plan on teaching kids’ science.”

“What did you want to teach again?” Makoto asked as she jotted down more notes.

“History.”

“Sciences are a big part of history,” Makoto reasoned, “you can always go more in-depth if you know some of the concepts.”

“Fuck that,” Saejima replied, “if they want to know the details, they better be paying attention in their other classes.”

Makoto shook her head, giving a joking ‘tsk tsk.’ Even with Saejima’s blunt language, she knew he had a soft spot for kids. If they had inquiries, she knew he’d do his best to answer them. The way he talked about his younger sister proved that enough.

She really enjoyed studying with Saejima. He was smart though it took him more work to understand the concepts. Makoto was quick to understand most science concepts, but she had to put in extra effort in everything else. They were able to help each other make up for their weaknesses. These tutoring sessions were helpful for Saejima to practice his teaching, and it helped Makoto learn how to teach better. She wasn’t confident with her abilities, even when she knew what she was talking about. This resulted in a lot of criticism from Saejima varying from ‘suck it up,’ to ‘speak up’ and some other choice words. It occurred more frequently early on in their friendship. The comments were a little jarring at first, she wasn’t used to people being so blunt with her, but Makoto learned to appreciate the straightforwardness. It was a welcome change from the way people usually treated her. Always either keeping her at a distance or looking at her with obvious disdain.

The way her classes were scheduled allowed her to get back to Kamurocho around 4 pm. If she was able to get a seat, she’d be able to complete any last-minute class readings. Ideally, she tried to get all her work done while she was on campus, but things happen and sometimes she needs to put in more work while she’s home.

Café Alps was one of her favorite places to spend her time. The ambience was nice, and the service was fantastic. It was her favorite place to go after classes and would alternate between ordering tea and coffee. Sometimes she wouldn’t order anything at all, her time would be spent getting ahead on work or just reading.

Other times she’d people watch. Like in the library, her favorite seat in the café was placed in the corner, the perfect place for a view of the café. She didn’t watch anyone specific, but she loved looking at what people were wearing, and sometimes she couldn’t help but eavesdrop on conversations. She tried not to, but sometimes the conversations just pulled her in.

Though, she may have lied when she mentioned that she didn’t watch anyone specific. There was one man that really grabbed her interest. She was certain he grabbed everyone’s interest. He was also a regular at the café, tall and lean, with a loud personality. He had a high-pitched laugh, but his tone seemed to change drastically depending on who he was talking too. Like his personality, his outfits were equally as loud. Most of the time he wore a snakeskin jacket without a shirt on underneath, his tattoos peeking out from his shoulders, though sometimes he would change into other loud patterned shirts. Though, it was obvious that he favored the snakeskin jacket.

She didn’t mind the tacky pattern since if she was being honest with herself, he had a very nice figure. He was slim but muscular, his wide grin splitting the harsh angles of his face whenever he’d hear something particularly funny. If she looked closely, she could see the glint of his eye which seemed to have a mischievous look in it. The left eye was covered with an eyepatch, which she wondered if it was for aesthetics or not. He was very expressive in every single aspect of himself.

He commanded her attention whenever he entered the room, and she only prayed that he didn’t notice her peeking over whatever she was distracting herself with.

‘Was this a crush?’ she wondered to herself. She supposed that it was, but at the same time, she felt like it was just all in good fun. Even if it was a ‘crush’ there was a no way she’d ever talk to the guy. Maybe Joy was right, maybe she was attracted to intimidating men. Because she was sure to most people this man was a little frightening, but she couldn’t help but be curious.

But compared to him, she was so boring. She felt horribly plain.

One day she couldn’t help but listen in on a conversation he was having, with another man. They were sitting across from her so she could get a good glance at his face. He was loud, ranting about how people don’t separate their trash and that they’re the reason our environment is the way it was today. She had to hold back a laugh because it was incredibly endearing that this man was ranting about climate change and personal responsibility.

‘Smart and handsome,’ she thought to herself. Her eyes moved up from her book, wanting to get another glimpse at his face. His eye was focused on the man in front of him, engrossed in whatever conversation they were having. Makoto noticed how his hair, which was cut right above his ears, was starting to fall into his face.

She switched back to looking at his face when she met his eye.

He definitely looked directly at her, and it took all her self-control to not flinch. She glared down at her book trying to control her heart rate and the blood rushing to her face. Subtly, she tried to lower her face and raise the book a little higher. The words were not registering in her brain and she just felt so embarrassed that he saw her staring. She cursed at herself for not being careful, now she looked like a nosey woman.

Okay. Maybe this was a little bit of a crush. Just a little.

Ten in the morning, Makoto was at the library, again. Same location, same clutter of papers surrounding her. Saejima was right across from her, papers also surrounding him, but they were in more cohesive stacks. Makoto held some flashcards close to her face, trying to commit each definition to her memory.

“Does holding those cards so damn close help at all?” Saejima questioned.

Makoto let out a little laugh. She knew Saejima was bound to start getting snappy. Besides being surrounded by papers he was also surrounded by broken pencils that failed under his pressure.

“Maybe you should try it,” Makoto said, “I could tape them to you if you want?”

Saejima scoffed, not in the mood to joke around.

“At this point I’d rather you tape a bomb to me.”

She felt like they had been in the library for forever. They’ve spent the past week studying and she was starting to feel the burnout. Makoto was about to say something until Saejima beat her to it.

“I wanna get the fuck out of here,” he said.

“I do too, but we really gotta get these definitions down,” she sighed, “that was our only goal for the day.”

“How about we go somewhere else then,” he grumbled.

Makoto immediately agreed. A new spot would be refreshing. Saejima and her both lived in Kamurocho, so she suggested they go to Café Alps.

“Isn’t that the place the guy you’re stalking goes to?” Saejima asked.

“Huhhh,” she replied, “I’m not stalking him, I forgot I even told you about that.”

“Sure.” Saejima said, obviously not believing her.

“If I was stalking him, I’d follow him out of the coffee shop, but I’m not.” She was trying her best to not sound defensive; she was also already thinking about how he caught her staring a couple days ago.

Saejima shushed her and told her to get her stuff ready so they could leave. She huffed, frustrated by her friends teasing, trying to get her mind off of the guy at the café.

The day must have had different plans for her though.

She was twisting her pencil between her fingers trying to focus on the different passages, while Saejima was studying her flash cards. The change of environment was nice and the commute to Kamurocho gave them a much-needed break. Overall, she was able to focus relatively well.

Until a boisterous voice snapped her from her book. Eyepatch man came in once again, along with another young man in a white pinstripe suit. She assumed the guy in the suit was the same person he was conversing with about climate change a couple days ago. His face was more stoic than the eyepatch man, if anything he seemed to be slightly annoyed at how close he was getting.

It was amusing. She giggled and elbowed Saejima in the ribs. He glared at her, but she interrupted him before he could say anything.

“That’s the guy,” she whispered, pointing to the guy with the eyepatch. She noticed Saejima’s eyes widen, then a small smirk graced his lips. Then he started to chuckle, and it seemed like it was bound to evolve into full blown laughter.

Makoto was not expecting this reaction at all.

“Look, I get he’s a little weird looking, but you don’t need to laugh at me,” she whispered harshly.

“I just, can’t believe,” he said in between chuckles, “of all people you take interest in.”

“Geez,” she said, “I shouldn’t have told you anything.”

She appreciated that he was keeping his laughing to a reasonable volume, though it still annoyed her. Her face was already getting redder. Once he stopped, he gave her a look she didn’t recognize. It looked as if he was plotting something, and Makoto didn’t like it.

“Why are you looking at me like that,” she huffed.

“You’ll thank me later,” he responded, then he turned towards the guy with the eyepatch and yelled.

“Oi! Majima!”

The guy with the eyepatch, Majima, turned towards them. His eyes met Saejima’s and his mouth split into a wide grin. He gave a wave and started to walk towards them. Makoto felt like she might pass out, not expecting this turn of events at all.

“What the hell,” she whispered to Saejima.

#majimako #majima goro #makoto makimura #saejima taiga #yakuza #ryu ga gotoku

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venxmedina · 4 years

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hellllo family :~) guess who’s baaaack !! it’s chelly, with my sassy little babie venice, whom i love very much and hopefully you do, too !! she’s a fun one to go out with, will flirt with you, takes up dance studio time whenever she can, and isn’t afraid to voice her opinions. i’m so excited to get her back into the swing of things, since i am bringing her back from a smol hiatus !! like this or shoot me a message if you’d like to plot :pleading fc: :~)

— && guests may mistake me as ( camila mendes ), but really i am ( venice medina + cis female + she/her ) and my DOB is ( 3/31/1995 ). i am applying for the ( housekeeper ) position as part of the EHP and would like to live in suite ( 213 ). i should be hired because i am ( charming & witty ), but i can also be ( cunning & dramatic ) at times. personally, i like to ( go shopping, attend dance classes & practice self care ) when off the clock, but that won’t interfere with work.

okay before this gets waaaay too long lmfao here’s a TL:DR of venice, her pinterest board, and her connection page

venice is a spoiled rich girl who mommy & daddy never really paid much attention to except when it came to succeeding in life and she responded to that by partying and being a wild child tbqh, resulting in her parents cutting her off and forcing her to take on a real job at the malnati. she’s returning after her grandfather passed, which essentially turned into just another instance of her parents controlling her life and not trusting her to take care of herself or the medina family name. she’s resentful of them bc they never rlly believed in her and instead treated her more-so as a pawn to advance their family's position which is a lil dehumanizing as a daughter and she's now determined to prove them wrong and actually make something of herself. her parents put her into ballet classes from such a young age and although most of anything they made her do has mostly been tainted now, dance is the one thing that's stuck and brings her so much joy and purpose so she still takes classes & is in search of a permanent partner to compete with. she’s more than just a pretty lil rich girl, like she does have a heart ( kind of a big one but lowkey tho asdlfj ), but she's also got a bit of an identity crisis now that she's fully on her own and not under the influence of her parents or with the comfort of her brother, and that's ... different. kind of a cold bitch, but she’s charming and sociable and has a good heart but she’s guarded and afraid of getting hurt.

here is her pinterest board & her connection page <3 i’d especially love some hookup buds, a dance partner, childhood enemy, one night stands, fake relationships, fiesty friends, frenemies, and just about anything tbh :~)

tw: drugs & alcohol mention, neglect, death

*:･ﾟ･✧･ who am i?: the medina family fortune was founded during the gold rush era in which the family immigrated from brazil and were talented metal-workers who could turn such raw materials into works of sheer beauty. jewelry, picture frames, gold plated toilet seats and architectural elements alike - everyone in hollywood wanted something made by the medinas. their prominence never weaned, either. throughout the decades, the family fortune has amassed well beyond anyone’s wildest dreams and therefore money is barely to be considered to the medinas despite them still understanding the value of a dollar earned. given the diversity in which the wealth is spread, and the investments that it has been used to make, it is obvious that they are a family of considerable wealth making up the upper class. their high-rise in the upper east side really says it all. this was the world that venice was introduced to, and quite frankly, it was all she had ever known. her guarded building was as much as she was allowed to venture out into for many a year, where the doorman was a babysitter and mrs. winters’ dog a few floors down was a friend. of course, there were a few other kids in her building whose parents were either fond or jealous of the medinas, so until she went to school venice did get to socialize with kids her own age too. her older brother, lucca, was one of her biggest saving graces. he was one of the only people in her life that truly gave her the time of day, and as much as it pained venice to be constantly overlooked by her parents in favor of lucca, he was her best friend. for all intents and purposes, he was the only medina who made her feel like she even had a family, and if there's anyone she's more loyal to than anyone else, it'd him. but per her education, venice attended private schools in the city throughout her life, even being tutored by some of the most highly reputable and paid retired teachers in the entire state for extra attention. getting a proper education was more important to her parents than it was to venice, so she put in the minimal effort needed. it wasn’t as if she was ever going to be given a failing grade, and it wasn't as though an A on a paper was going to garner her parents' attention for long ( if at all - it was what was expected of her ). the girl knew of her influence and the power her family held from an early age. whatever she wanted, she got, and that was the precedent that had been set from infancy. whatever would get her to stop whining, that’s what she got.

*:･ﾟ･✧･ attention to detail: half of the battle for venice, though, throughout her life, was garnering her parent’s attention. her father was a proven, accomplished businessman who was often out of the state or city to tend to whatever firm needed his attention. her mother was a socialite who was more concerned with keeping up the image of a perfect household than actually tending to one. it wasn’t that there was a lack of love for her, from her parents, it was just rather that care was seldom expressed when venice so desperately needed it. she had spent more time with nannies and tutors and tennis instructors than she did her own parents, and that left a vacancy in her heart. naturally, her relationship with her brother was one that she worked on every day; they were thick as thieves and everyone knew the medina siblings. but, she couldn't follow her brother all day for the rest of her life, and as much as his love helped fill some of those voids in her heart, it wasn't always enough, either. she sought out their attention in so many different avenues. whether that be through ballet dance recitals, throwing temper tantrums if she wasn’t getting her way, leaving notes on her mother and father’s pillows … venice really tried all of it. and sure, she would occasionally get some kind of attention in return, but it was usually fleeting and uninspiring. they favored lucca in just about every aspect, and expected him to carry on the family name, line, and company so in a lot of ways - he took precedence. and this wasn’t dissimilar to the experiences of some of the people she called her friends at the time. her parents were busy people who didn’t have much time to deal with the handful of a daughter that they had.

*:･ﾟ･✧･ to be needed: this is where much of venice’s neediness has stemmed from. she truly does seek out those who are more likely to give her attention, to feed into her, even though she has been taken advantage of time and time again over the years. it’s not something she is even consciously aware of, it’s mostly just something that happens. or at least that’s how it started out. even to this day it can be difficult for venice to understand what a mutually beneficial relationship looks like, but that doesn’t mean she’s incapable of learning. for a long time, the people who wanted to be in her life also wanted access to the lavish lifestyle that follows her. this often meant that so many of venice’s ‘friendships’ were hollow, and merely existed to the benefit of the other person. it took awhile before venice started to realize that all of the trips she took people on, the random shopping sprees, the VIP bottle service, the ‘borrowed’ gucci and hermes - it was all for nothing. it wasn’t until she graduated that all of this dawned on the girl, but it did. and while she still feels that aching need to be surrounded by others, to be validated in some way, she is far more guarded now and protective of herself; she isn’t just going to be used by anyone ever again, and that lesson is one she holds very close to her heart. which she’d personally describe as a cold one if only to protect it.

*:･ﾟ･✧･ reckless abandon: but … speaking of, like so many of our favorite little rich girls, venice has always been a rebellious one. it started when she was a sixteen year old who had access to her own limo and could go wherever the hell she wanted. she had met plenty of other affluent sons and daughters of her parent’s pals by that point, and they had their own sort of ‘code’ amongst them. she started experimenting with drugs and alcohol at an early age and since it was what everyone else was doing, it allowed her to be a part of the club, and that’s what she was searching for. it warranted attention from the paparazzi, from these other so-called ‘friends’ of hers. her beach house in the hamptons was her playground every weekend during the summer and it was good she had a maid service on speed dial because after her friends were through on a sunday night, it was necessary. she'd grown to essentially need a bottle of titos if she were going out or a few bumps to get her through a night, and it was incredibly unhealthy, but it was one of those staples that made her feel better. even for a little. even in fleeting moments.

when she was graduating from her private academy and just turning 18, the need and desire to escape her family's imposing pressures and lack of care grew deeply. she knew that she wanted to escape to the west coast, and after spending far too many weekends jet-setting all over the country, the dry heat that filed the arizona air was appealing to her. she was miles away from her parent's, but still close enough to the beach and access to all the funds she could ever ask for. she was a party girl who barely attended classes and it was her family name that mostly got her through the couple of years that she even attended. she spent most of her time shopping, getting high, and drinking all night long. perhaps what was the most shocking was the relationship venice found herself in. he was a football player, older, undoubtedly gorgeous, and one of the kindness people venice had ever met ... up until meeting mason, she had basically only been surrounded by people who wanted to use her and didn't genuinely give a shit about her at the end of the day; they were in it for themselves, and mason was the exact opposite. he considered her, was far more mature than most of the people she'd ever spent time with, and she latched onto that breath of positivity and openness that was mason davis. even till this day, her relationship with mason was the longest one she'd ever found herself in, and to put it simply: she fell in love and she fell hard. some of her fondest memories were cheering him on at every game, celebrating the wins, and introducing him to anyone she could who was in the professional scene because she believed in him more than anyone else. he was unlike anyone she'd ever met before and cared for him more than she could understand; he was her first true relationship, someone who deserved to be her one and only, and while it terrified her how much she felt for him, she thought it was all reciprocal - so what was there to worry about? well, the night to worry came. and it was when mason broke up with her - supposedly, with his graduation date coming, he wanted to spare her the hurt ... but, in reality, all it did was shatter the girl's heart at twenty years old and it's never fully recovered since.

it didn't take long for venice to go off the deep end after the breakup ... being at the university of arizona was way too much, and every memory that used to bring her nothing but happiness was tainted. every ounce of personal growth that she had worked on seem to vanish overnight, and she was just angry, and hurt, and it was like all of those moments her parents made her feel like she wasn't enough - they were right. and still ... she needed home, to go home, to be surrounded by people who she was familiar with and who she knew would let her lean on them ... even if there were only a couple of people back home who'd comfort her, even if it was just lucca, she needed to go back to the city she knew like the back of her hand. even to be surrounded by people who'd pretend to care about her just for a night in her lifestyle. so she put in a transfer application to NYU, and yet again, it was her family name and pedigree that got her into the school. and attending NYU ... well it wasn't much better and when she first started at UoA. she’d hook up with anyone who she deemed interesting and the next night she was onto someone new. she was almost desperate in getting over mason in the only way she knew how ... getting under someone else. and she did a whole lot of that. everyone knew who she was on the party scene and you either hated venice or loved venice - but no matter what, you knew who she was. and that's how she survived her last two years ... making the rounds, living it up, partying and relying on her favorite substances .. it wasn't good, and it wasn't pretty, but it was what she knew best and that's what she reverted to at the time.

*:･ﾟ･✧･ riptide: anytime she could garner his parent’s attention with her reckless escapades, it was a win. that’s what she wanted. she wanted their attention, no matter what way she could get it, and there was something extremely fun in the process of getting it. but as she got older, her parents stopped caring as much. they knew venice wasn’t making healthy choices, spent too much time partying and out all night rather than studying, that she probably was crying over for something or someone, but that wasn’t what they were most concerned with. no, they were more concerned with the tabloids and the family’s reputation - that’s why they weren't paying venice any attention while she was away at NYU. they’d threaten to cut her off and that she would no longer be apart of their family if she continued to act this way in public. whether it was in a headline or on social media, she was being filmed and photographed acting out and being a truly spoiled brat which wasn’t the image that her family so desperately sought to protect.

*:･ﾟ･✧･this is growing up: it has been a true emotional rollercoaster between venice and her parents - constantly struggling to support their daughter and ‘set her on the right path’ versus venice’s ‘devil may care’ attitude. so many of her parents threats have been empty, and she had never truly thought that in all of their attempts to get her to be the picture perfect daughter that they wanted that they’d cut her off and force her to fend for herself. but, that’s exactly what happened. after graduating NYU with a degree in marketing, venice figured that her parents were get her in to one of the top agencies in the city and she would be able to live out her life with the top dogs like her father had. and for a long time, that is exactly what her parents had promised her. but then her graduation came and it was just after that she had pulled her biggest stunt and had stripped down on top of the bar at one of her parent’s fundraising events during a drunken stupor. that was truly a turning point in her relationship with her parents, considering just how badly she embarrassed them at their own fundraising event. and truly it all stemmed from that desire to be seen by them, by anyone, to be considered at all. the most they were concerned with when it came to venice was where she was going to be working and later living. they didn’t care that she was depressed, covering it up with partying and alcohol, that she wanted their love to be expressed and to feel as though she belonged to a real family. and she’s always known her life is wonderful compared to so many others, and there is guilt that comes from that, too, but still she couldn’t stop herself from acting out when she needed attention the most. and that is when her parents ultimately decided to cut her off - freeze her accounts, reposses her car, and force her to get a job that would actually put her back into the real world.

*:･ﾟ･✧･out here on my own: and really, that is how venice has ended up in chicago in the first place. the medinas are friends with the malnatis, and they agreed to take her on as an employee through the employee housing program and to ( most importantly ) get her away from mommy & daddy and out of The City. it’s the first time in her life where she’s without friends, money, or any sort of support. honestly, she feels quite abandoned by her family, as she looks at it like they got sick of dealing with her so they shipped her off elsewhere to be someone else’s problem. the resentment is there, and now more than ever venice is determined to show her parents that she doesn’t need them or their money, that she’s going to be capable of being on her own and working a medial job like being a maid without crawling back to them. sure, she’s going to hate cleaning up after people when she used to have a nanny who would tidy up her own place, as she truly has been spoiled, but she’s determined to grin and bare it before going back home. besides, so much of her life has been focused on gaining their attention, approval, to be validated by anyone, to be seen as something more than just a pretty face with a fat bank account … and while she hasn’t always helped herself to be seen in any other light, she’s consumed by the idea of doing so now. this is the first time in venice’s life where she isn’t under her parent’s thumb. where she isn’t constantly under the influence of some substance. where she isn’t doing something insanely foolish or unhealthy to try and gain the favor of someone whos approval requires chasing. she’s really just getting to live within her own skin, be herself and figure out what that looks like.

after working at the malnati for a handful of months, it was a family emergency that landed her back in new york ... her grandfather had passed, the true patriarch of the family, and that came with a lot of 'passing of the guard' within the medina family enterprise. it meant funerals, and meetings with lawyers, and memorial services, and rekindlings with her brother, and public appearances, and making statements and being interviewed for magazines, and it was then that venice had truly learned of her position in her family. while her grandfather had left her stock options in her name when he passed, and plenty for her to be able to live comfortably off of for the rest of her life, it was so written that it was contingent upon her father's disbursement of the stocks when he deemed she was so fit to handle them. so it was even in death, her family did not trust her enough to be able to handle herself. she was still considered reckless, unreliable, and unworthy of holding a stake in medina international ... while it wasn't anything new or surprising to venice, it still hurt just the same. because she'd spent the past year working on herself, away from the pressures of being a medina, separated from her family and essentially disowned by her own parents and even still, she found herself at their mercy once more. it would come at no surprise that she decided to leave it all behind her once more ... which is why she's returned to chicago, not as a guest at the malnati, but as an employee. as someone with aspirations and desires to move up in the world, once more on her own, once more with a heart she's nursing from lovers she's had to say goodbye to, once again without the support of her family, and furthermore with the wrath and persistence only a medina can procure.

*:･ﾟ･✧･it’s a new dawn: she still gives into her pleasures, whether that be sex or art or dancing, all of which she’s never been able to kick but she manages them well and enjoys them all the same. she is still a good time, someone fun to be around, and is always willing to get the party started no matter where she is. she’s kind of done it all, and while some of that has been left behind now that she’s got some different focuses in life, venice knows what makes her feel best and doesn’t want to deprive herself of that, either. she’s currently obsessed with her taking dance classes and is constantly updating her instagram followers on all that she can show them when she’s in the studio. after taking ballet classes for most of her life, she is quite good and likes to indulge in those, but her latest passion has been in salsa and hip hop. it’s not only a great workout to keep herself in shape but she likes the way she feels when she’s doing it, too. and piano lessons were big in her household, as her parents wanted her to be educated in the arts too, so she’s kept a keyboard lying around her things in case she ever feels a spark of desire to mess around on the keys.

*:･ﾟ･✧･it’s a new day: mostly, venice is a guarded gal who loves to have a good time and will absolutely give anyone a hard time when they deserve it. she’s dramatic, to a fault, and she knows it and could not care less. to quote, “i am who i am, and if you don’t like it then there’s the door.”. she’s loyal to the people that she decides she wants to have in her life, but will be very cautious about those she doesn’t trust right away, which can stem from some kind of experience of her own judgement since she does tend to operate off of preconceived notions of people until proven otherwise. and despite being crass, she can also be rather charming, and is a sociable person at her core so she will be willing to strike up conversations with whoever - but whether the conversation goes well or not is another thing. her ultimate weakness though is pretty people, as she is attracted to both men and women, and likes to engage in all kinds of relationships with anyone she thinks is attractive and interesting. so if she starts flirting with you, she has every intention on getting to know you one way or another. in truth, venice has a good heart, and it’s simply masked by a lot of vibrato and insecurity. her biggest fear is not being enough, and that’s so much of the reason why she’s never really tried to be anything. but since being cut off, and repeatedly cast aside by her family, she’s found this rejuvenated sense of desire to prove everyone wrong - that she is worth a damn, that she can work her way up the ladder and break out into the ‘real world’ on her own, that she’s enough.

also if you got this far honestly thank you asdkfalf i do not deserve you lmfao this has been a journey and if you had to suffer through all the typos i’ve likely made, i owe you <3

#malnatiooc #+ ( introduction * . )#here we go :~)

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chicagocityofclans · 3 years

Photo

Vladimir Draga → Peter Facinelli → Warlock

→ Basic Information

Age: 614

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Straight

Powers: Aerokinesis

Birthday: February 17th

Zodiac Sign: Aquarius

Religion: Hellenism

Mark: Draga

Generation: 1st

→ His Personality Vladimir, who prefers being called Vlad, has developed throughout his years. He was once erratic, immature, impulsive, and intense. A man who craved power. Vlad was extremely unpredictable, violent, and had horrible impulsive behavior due to the rejection and abuse during his early childhood. He shunned his feelings, he was emotionally erratic and paranoid, and easily found weakness in those who wore there’s on their sleeves. As he grew with his anger towards the world the more he lost and the more he started reevaluating his outlook on life. Especially, when his powers turned against him and Vlad remained invisible for 68 years, 3 months, 22 days and 19 hours. Young, untrained and unable to control his powers, Vlad watched as his family, friends and the world moved on without him; the majority of them were happy that he was gone.

It changed him. It developed him into the man he is today. Vlad is a logical chess player that watches the world around him quietly before speaking, calculating, being able to look ahead and anticipate others. He wants the most out of life; experiencing love and fatherhood as he developed for the better. He has done a complete 360. However, when angered or under stress, he quickly returns to his self-reliant and suspicious old manners; being distrustful and fearful of what others will impose on him. He will be harsh and judgmental. It took a lot for him to grow and fulfill his need for love which is often upset with a snap of a finger when annoyed and drowning under pressure.

→ His Personal Facts

Occupation: Translating Spells

Scars: None

Tattoos: A feather on his left front shoulder and they’re 8 birds escaping from it onto his chest. He also has a triangle on his right back shoulder.

Two Likes: History and Pointillism

Two Dislikes: Bourgeois People and Plastic Surgeries

Two Fears: The True Meaning of Life and Losing a Limb

Two Hobbies: Painting/Sculpting and Translating Spells

Three Positive Traits: Responsible, Courageous, Intelligent

Three Negative Traits: Impatience, Dry, Stingy

→ His Connections

Parent Names:

Aldee Meago (Mother): Aldee died nearly in her 100s and gave Vlad the best years of his life. If he could he would bring her back to meet her grandkids.

Sibling Names:

Viktor Draga (Brother): Viktor shares Vlad mark. He is Vlad's younger brother. Vlad took on Viktor’s last name and has made it their official mark name.

Vara Sookram nee Draga (Sister): Vara is Vlad's younger sister and closest friend. They have their powers in common and a similar personality.

Villard Draga (Brother): Villard is the youngest of them all. Vlad does care for his youngest brother but Villard is too immature for Vlad’s liking.

Vaughn Draga (Brother): Vaughn is Vlad’s oldest brother by two years but the last to be found and added into their family. They get along well enough.

Children Names:

Fallon Draga (Daughter): He doesn’t know where Fallon gets it from but she is the wild child his mother cursed on him when he was young and growing up.

Alucard Draga (Son): Alucard is much like his replica. He’s quiet and enjoys solitary. Vlad finds himself connecting with his son more easily as he ages.

Romantic Connections:

Rhiannon Draga (Wife): Vlad has been with his wife for nearly half of his life. He is sure she’s the piece that he was missing before.

Platonic Connections:

Fenrin Gustafsson (Good Friend): Vlad and Fenrin have known each other for many years. Their shared histories on the high seas drew them together but a more solid friendship has grown out of that over the years.

Arianna Garcia (Mentee): Ari shares the same powers as Vlad and Alucard. Since Ari and Alucard are close in age it has been a breeze training them both together.

Alyss De Silva (Mentee): Alyss is interested in spells and painting. Vlad is fine with mentoring her on both until Eric Lasiter has a mentee position open.

Hostile Connections:

None

Pets:

None

→ History Since the day Vladimir was born, he had been fighting with himself and the world around him. His mother did the best she could and tried to raise him right, but Vlad fell in with the wrong crowd at a young age. He was pulled into piracy at the age of 8. He was scrubbing decks, assisting gun crews and was the aid of the cook. He was treated harshly, rarely paid and Vlad knew he was expendable. He was surprised when he made it to the age of 12 years old and the crew kept him around. He was sure it was because of his relationship with the sailing masters who were officers in charge of navigation and piloting. Vlad had always had a great sense of direction and feel for air movements. He had helped them out of a storm when he was only 9 years old and had earned their respect. By the time he was 14 years old they allowed him to disembark with them as they battled over treasures, raided governed towns, gathered cured meats and fermented vegetables for their journey and pillaged lawless villages. He was also allowed to eat, drink and be merry with the crew, which was a great come up from fighting with the other younger boys his age for crumbs off the floor when the crew finished eating. As the years onboard continued, Vlad had worked his way up to gunmen then junior officer when the captain requested that he was trained as a sailing master. His mother didn’t approve and refused to use his blood money for her living, but she was always happy when he made port and came home.

Vlad was a senior pirate that had been on many ships and well into his mid-30s when he noticed he had abilities no one else had. Mostly everyone called it luck and wanted him on their ships, but Vlad was uneased by his nearly ‘supernatural’ abilities. After plundering the wrong village, Vlad’s ship was attacked hundreds of miles from land, yet he was the sole survivor. He held his breath as the rough seas took him under repeatedly as he made his way home. He swam when he could and floated on his back when he couldn’t. While his mother was happy to see him and have him home, the other villagers counted him as a traitor and abandoner. He lost his street and sail credits and not even the whores would see him. He grew angry and bitter, turning to rum and stalking in his home. It was the one-year anniversary of the death of his crewmates when some of the villagers thought it would be fun to burn down his home and drag him to the sea to die. It was fun but not for them. Vlad was enraged that he had survived and was being punished for it. The air left the area surrounding his cabin, those villagers and a few undeserving animals, and they all choked to death as Vlad yelled in anger and frustration.

He was on the run with his mother when she commented on his skin and him aging well. Vlad was nearing 40 years old and still looked like he could be in his twenties. That’s when he remembered stories about witches and warlocks from one of the ports they visited. They were hundreds of years old and still looked young, they were able to kill with one word or a snap of a finger, and they were hard to kill themselves. When they finally settled on the outskirts of France, they had been traveling for months and Vlad had been testing his theory while his mother slept. Not fully trusting society, Vlad chose to purchase a plot of land with what money he had saved up from his days of piracy. As he built, the neighboring farmer's daughter caught his eye. He needed a wife and he knew nothing would make his mother happier. They were married within the fortnight but she and his unborn child died during a plague years later.

When Vlad's mother died at the age of 97, he was devastated and his world was dark all around. He still looked like he was in his twenties but he was 83 years old. He knew nothing about himself or whatever power he held. Vlad decided to sell his land and restart his quest for answers. He ran every loose end, hunted down every tale and sought out to kill posers who wanted to trick him out of his money. Vlad was 211 years old when he gave up on his search and was considering taking his life when he went invisible. Vlad remained invisible for 68 years, 3 months, 22 days and 19 hours. He was found by Ambrocio Ee (Lee), who taught him how to change back and explained that he was just like him. He was traveling from Nagasaki to England for a potential tutoring job when he noticed Vlad cold stares into nothing. When Ambrocio heard of Vlad's story he offered his sincere apologies and offered to mentor Vlad instead of continuing to England. Vlad offered to follow him on his journey, wanting to leave that part of continental Eroupe behind him.

Apparently, Vlad had mastered deoxygenation and aerokinetic creation during his time as a pirate and while he was on the run. Ambrocio focused more on his invisibility, of which Vlad was hesitant in the beginning but quickly caught the hang of turning himself and objects around him invisible. Ambrocio was a hard teacher and tried his hardest to get Vlad caught up with not only his powers but spells, charms, potions and more. Vlad worked day and night on learning his basic and advanced powers. It was during a day trip to Wales when Vlad met Viktor and Vara. They shared the same mark and the two of them lived off of the land like nomads. Viktor was only two years younger than him and Vara was five years younger. Vlad was skeptical at first but Vara showed him that she could manipulate storms and tornadoes, both of which Ambrocio had yet to mention to him. Vlad said his goodbye and gave Ambrocio his gratitude but followed after his siblings.

Vlad had stopped counting but he was in his 300s when he met Rhiannon. She reminded him so much of his deceased wife and Vlad couldn’t remember the last time he was willing to skip a lesson to spend time with someone he barely knew. She was 400 years his senior but they formed an unbreakable connection from the start. He eventually started to court her and they were married just as quickly. Vlad continued to practice his magic with his siblings' help and was grateful for Rhiannon understanding that he wouldn’t want to have a child while he still learned to control his powers. Rhiannon removed them from their nomadic life and reintroduced them to the finer life once again after many years. It wasn’t long before they moved overseas to America. Vlad loved the culture and could easily find work since he had picked up over 14 languages in his travels; now he’s expanded to 267 languages that also helps with his job. They eventually settled in Chicago. To Vlad’s surprise and to the surprise of his family he had quickly mastered all of his known powers and had the opportunity to mentor Audo Wilhelm for 20 years. It was about 77 years ago when they discovered Rihannon was pregnant. It came as a shock to both of them that she was carrying twins, one boy and one girl. → The Present Vladimir has had a tough life. Remaining stationary in Chicago is slowly getting under his skin. Vlad has been thinking about possibly vacationing in Hawaii, Tahiti, Bora Bora and Fiji. Especially since he and Rhiannon are nearing their 300 year anniversary. He wants a break away from the busy city life with a full month of lazing around on beaches and eating tropical foods. He cannot remember the last time his family vacationed on an island or away from big inner city tourist attractions. He has made comments about leaving for vacation but Vlad is sure that his family is taking it as a joke. He has already let some of his major clients know that he might not be available in the future and is planning on bringing his proposal to Rihannon and letting her decide whether now is a good time since they’ll be leaving behind her mentees and also removing their own kids from under their mentors for a period of time.

→ Available Gif Hunts (we do not own these)

Peter Facinelli [1][2][3][4][5][6]

#Vladimir Draga #Vlad Draga #Peter Facinelli #Open #OMWR #OWR #OM

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