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theonetheycallhannah · 4 years

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The Treatment of Capt. Syverson- Chapter Three: Therapeutic Activity

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: Tensions reach a boiling point during treatment one evening, Shane goes to her own veteran for advice, and takes the first step toward happiness…hoping beyond hope that everything doesn’t blow up in her face.

Masterlist with links to all parts HERE!

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: None, yet… ;) But maybe I should be putting language warnings in here…there are some bad words. And not to spoil but…there might be a bit of kissing in this one…

Author’s Note: Guys, I cannot stress to you enough how much I am enjoying telling this story. My goodness. To sort of combine my passions of writing and Henry with something I know so well like therapy (I’m a secretary like Heather, not a therapist), it really just makes me happy. The next chapter is already done, also, it was initially part of this chapter, but it felt too long, so I’ll be posting it separately later. I know, I’m a tease. Have Henry spank me. Lol.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags:

@onlyhenrys

@cavillryarchive

@summersong69

@titty-teetee

@bloodyinspiredfuck

"This sounds…kinda dumb…" Sy expressed his thoughts on today's warm up with Shane.

"Oh, trust me, it looks even dumber than it sounds. But it works. And it's easier on your knees than doing it the right way. You ready?" he looked at the treadmill, inclined at 3% grade as if it was Everest itself, and looked back at her. "I'll start slow." she raised her eyebrows at him.

"You know just what to say to a girl." he teased as he stepped up, still gingerly, even after eight weeks of therapy. Crutches mercifully jettisoned two weeks ago. He was on his way to being his fighting fit self. With a foot on either track beside the belt, but facing away from the control panel, he waited for her to press start. He took a breath and nodded.

"Test the belt with your bad foot first, and then when you're ready, step down with it. Remember what I've told you about which foot should lead when ascending and descending stairs or hills?"

"Good go to Heaven, Bad go to Hell. So I go up with the good leg and go down with the bad leg."

"A+ student. Okay, when you're ready…any time…Sy, this is an hour session…I have to kick you out in 55 minutes…chop chop." she cajoled him, but he wasn't budging.

"It feels…weird going this way, Shane." If she had been a less kind person, she would have called it whining…she called it nothing, instead.

"I know. Do you need to walk backwards around the clinic a little more to get you used to that sensation?"

"Hell yeah. If that means you're gonna spot me like you did before…felt kinda like dancin'." it was a perfectly legitimate and above-board treatment strategy. They stood back to back, Shane guiding Sy as he practiced walking backward and pushing off with the extensor muscle group, which had been weak. Sy had suggested holding hands, but Shane had compromised with the idea to link arms. Not that she wasn't dying to hold his hand…she was. But that had not been the time. The time was still weeks away. At least.

"I was thinking I'd have you try it with Jordan. He's got a free hour right now. And I can assess your technique. How does that sound, Twinkle Toed Romeo?" Immediately he placed a tentative foot down onto the slow moving belt trying to adjust to the odd sensation of walking up a hill backward.

"Ah, so I now know that all I have to do to get you to do something silly is threaten you with Jordan. Filing that away for a rainy day."

"Come on, you're breakin' my heart, sunshine."

"Aww, don't be ridiculous. I've seen therapists do way more embarrassing things to their patients in the name of treatment."

"Tell me!"

"Sorry, but it's classified information. Protected under the Health Insurance Privacy and Portability Act. I could literally get fired for telling you, and there are way cooler things to get fired for!" She'd always said it. And she meant it. She didn't fool around when it came to HIPPA, and there was no way she was gonna lose her job over a stupid slip like that.

"Any examples of things you'd rather get fired for?"

She thought for a few minutes. She used to have a list.

"Hmm, telling off my bitch of a boss," he looked shocked at her use of a bad language word, which he'd never heard from her. She nodded. "Telling off an asshole patient," sleeping with a patient…

"What about sleeping with a patient?" It was late in the day, the only person still there was Heather in the office, and a few therapists still documenting. Nobody in the gym to hear him echo the thoughts in her head. As if he could read them as clearly as a page in a book. Large print. She looked at him in shock.

"Sorry. That was over the line."

"It was…but…"

"But?"

"But…it would not be the least cool reason to get fired."

"It wouldn't?" she shook her head, reluctantly.

"Especially if the patient was…amazing, and kind, and…fucking gorgeous…"

"Young lady, that language today, I have never!" he exclaimed clutching at his broad and beautiful chest.

"I know, but, Sy…this is all hypothetical, and theoretical, and IF I was GOING to get fired how would I CHOOSE for it to happen and WHAT policy I would go against. People don't just CHOOSE to be fired, you know?" she was nervous and rambling.

"You know what people also don't choose? Who they care about, and have feelin's for. Who they--"

"Don't finish that sentence, Sy." She couldn't hear him say the word he was going to say. She couldn't let him start that. Not when there was too much complicating their situation.

She walked off to her treatment room, needing some space. Some time.

She didn't get that space or time. Sy hobbled in behind her, looking like a man on a mission. And she knew from his war stories that his missions tended to be successful…even the one that got him his walking papers wasn't a total loss.

"Sy, you still had like, five minutes on the tr--"

His big hands found the sweet spot where her neck met her skull. He took a big breath and closed the distance between them, his lips landing light as feathers on hers, her soft skin welcoming the roughness of his beard, though everything else about the kiss was terribly gentle. Almost chaste. Even his beard wasn't so rough that she worried about beard burn…she'd be filing that away for later, as well. Against her willpower and better judgement but in full cooperation with her desires and instincts she began kissing him back, daring to deepen it by opening their mouths a bit, and sliding her hands up the back of his red tee that sported a black skull. All of his shirts were entirely too tight, but you'd never catch her complaining. Even after several months away from active duty and really, most activity at all, his body was still so solid and powerful.

"Ain't that a daisy…Fuck, I've wanted to do that since my first appointment." he chuckled, lightly.

"Sy…"

"Don't. Don't try to argue or tell me you don't feel it. This energy between us. I've seen it in your eyes, Shane. I've felt it when you touch me. It ain't nothin, sunshine. It's a whole lotta somethin'."

"I know, but I need this job. And I WANT this job. Being a therapist is the only thing I've ever wanted to do. Helping people. People like you. Getting them better. It's what I was meant to do. And there's no place like this in the area for me to treat such a diverse clientele and build my skill set. It's not without it's problems, but it's where I'm meant to be."

"I get that. And you should do what you were called to do. You're too good at this not to do it. But Shane, isn't it worth pushing back on some policy if it could mean you get to have some personal happiness, too?"

"I'm worried they'll make me choose." Actually, it was more than that. She was worried about which choice she'd make. Giving up a ten-year career with excellent benefits despite its pitfalls, or giving up someone she could hardly stop thinking about, who made her heart pound when he smiled, and who was rapidly shaping up to be someone she could see herself sharing a life with…making either choice terrified her for very different reasons.

"You shouldn't have to choose. Any boss who'd make you deny yourself what we could have just because of some ridiculous policy…well, they ain't worth the gas that brought 'em to work today. Y'understand me?"

She nodded, smirking at his idiom, "You don't know my boss."

"Well, maybe I oughta GET to know her, if it's like that. I have a way of throwin' my weight around, case ya hadn't noticed." he shot her a smug grin.

"Ya don't say?" she retorted, brimming with sarcasm, literally still wrapped in the evidence of said weight in the form of his muscular arms, warm and thick, encircling her. Even though she felt like her life was up in the air, she had never felt more safe. "I'll try to have a chat with her about it this week. Our schedules rarely align, and usually that's how I like it, but I'll try to move some things around if nothing naturally falls into place."

"I'll be happy to lend my voice or even come talk to her, if need be." he offered, ever the gentleman.

"I appreciate that, Sy, truly. But I think it would be best not to involve you unless it becomes absolutely necessary. We have several more treatments to get through today, though. You didn't finish on the tread mill, do you think you're warmed up enough?"

"Oh, darlin', I'm plenty warm." he grinned down at her sliding a hand down her side.

"Shit, am I gonna have to start being extra careful with what I say to you until this gets sorted?"

"I really doubt it'll matter, Shane. Ain't much you can say I can't make dirty." she could tell by the satisfaction on his face that this was a point of pride for him.

"Lay down and shut up."

"Yes, MA'AM!" he complied with a little too much enthusiasm. She didn't know whether to roll her eyes with amusement or grow increasingly feral…apparently there was room for both as long as she didn't act on the latter. Yet.

~~~~~~~~

She dismissed Sy for the day, instructing him to behave himself until she gave him the all clear, and even then, if she got the green light to see him outside of therapy, sessions would still be about getting him stronger, and not flirting. Or at least mostly. They settled on a 90/10 ratio by the end. She was a weak woman.

She went into the office where one of the senior therapists, Anita, was still charting and snacking on some pretzels.

"How was your day, Nita?" she asked affectionately. Anita had been her mentor since she started with the clinic over ten years ago, and was now part time, flexing toward retirement. She'd miss her.

"Oh, long, Miss Shane. As they tend to be more and more these days. What about yours?"

"Ah…just…nothin'." she shouldn't go into it all until she talked to Susan, their boss.

"Mmm, that's no nothing nothin', that's a something nothin'. Come on, kiddo. Spill." she offered Shane one of her pretzels and kicked out the chair next to her. Again, she was a weak woman. She took a pretzel, sat, and chewed it for a moment, collecting her words.

"What do you think about…starting relationships with patients?" she searched her reaction for any snap judgement or emotion, but only a narrowing of her eyes occurred.

"Is this about that Captain Sexypants who just left?"

"I'm going to kill Heather. I'm not the one who came up with that nickname and I'm not the one who started the whole having feelings conversation. I was going to be miserable until he was discharged, at least."

"Why would you need to make yourself miserable, Shane?"

"Because the policy. About dating patients."

"Technically the policy only says you shouldn't treat family/close friends if you feel you wouldn't be able to maintain objectivity or would be uncomfortable yourself. But that you should disclose any relationship to your supervisor for review."

"See, what's Susan gonna say?"

"Who cares? The policy is the law. And the board of directors governs the policy. Not her. Tell her in an email if you can't work out a time to talk to her before you see him next. Hell, I sent my boss a memo back when I started dating Ron. And look at us now! 20 years strong."

"No way!?" Shane was flabbergasted. She had never known that Anita's husband Ron had once been her patient.

"Oh yes. I wasn't long out of PT school, my first husband had passed away and I needed an income, so I got my PT license and about a year into working here, Ron got put on my schedule. I knew from the eval, he was meant for me. So I typed up a memo, sent it to Morton, our boss at the time, and told Ron I was free on Friday after work."

"Sy just…I don't know, we have this…connection…a spark. I've never felt it with anyone else."

"Are you concerned that seeing him socially would affect how you treat him here?"

"I'm more worried keeping my feelings for him bottled up while I treat him will get so distracting I'll become less effective."

"Well, then, if you get any push back, tell Susan that." Anita said. "Just be forthright. Honest. And speak with integrity. She'll have no cause to refute it, then. And send it tonight."

"Okay. Thanks Anita. You're the best."

~~~~~~~~~

Shane spent too long, probably an hour, at least, drafting her email to Susan. It read:

To: Susan DeForrest

From: Shane Benton

Subject: Re: Treatment Policy

Susan,

I wanted to bring to your attention a situation that has presented itself with one of my patients. I have been treating him almost exclusively for several weeks now, apart from my week on PTO, and he has progressed to both of our satisfaction as well as the ordering physician. However, we have come to be quite friendly and he has expressed great interest in seeing me outside of therapy. This is something that I too would like to engage in, and I plan to accept the next time I speak with him.

From my understanding of the policy, the only thing that would prevent me from treating him as a social acquaintance would be my own comfort level and ability to remain objective. I have every confidence that my objectivity regarding his case will remain intact. I am also completely comfortable with it, and if that changes, I will transfer him to another therapist. Furthermore, I have no doubts that I will be able to maintain the highest level of professionalism throughout our treatments.

Thank you, and if you feel we need to discuss any of this further, please let me know.

~Shane Benton, DPT

And send…whew. She needed a big glass of wine tonight.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Up Next: Chapter Four- E-Stim

#netflix sand castle #sand castle #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x ofc #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson x ofc

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popculturebuffet · 4 years

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House of Mouse: Mickey and the Culture Clash (Commission by WeirdKev27) or “What the Hell, Clarabelle?”

Hello, hello, hello... I wish I could say I was in good spirits but i’m tired, have covid induced chills running down my spine.. and oh yeah there was an armed insurrection i the captial last night that showed just how broken this country was. And while Monster Bash would still be relevant... I couldn’t do it. I admit to being unable to do an episode where the millitant racist nutjob who harms people runs off into the night, and does much worse in later episodes, while the people she harassed are arrested the night after a bunch of millitant, racist, sociopathic, selfish nightmares sieged the captial, killed a woman, raised the fucking maga flag over the buildling and took pictures like they were goddamn heroes. We got a stark reminder, not a wake up call, not an opening a REMINDER of just how badly broken our country is last night, and it wasn’t till this morning I found out just how BAD it was. The deaths, the flag, the fact josh fucking hawley, MY STAT’ES SENATOR and registered piece of shit, raised A FUCKING FIST IN SOLIDARITY, which gives me the crippling fear his stupidity and unabashed racisim and support of a cou could mean riots at best and attempted uprisings at worst and who knows what kind of hate crimes against those of color and those in my own queer community. I am afraid, tired, and I am pissed and I feel we could ALL use something wholesome, warm and far removed from the shit going on. And in my hour of need to figure out something like that to put on the schedule.. Kev brought up a wonderfufl idea. Every month this month till the end of it Kev is going to comission one episode of a show near and dear to both our hearts that has it’s 20th birthday this month. House of Mouse. He was intitally going to request Pete’s One Man Show, which is one of my faviorites, but was ironcially one I already planned to cover next month to celebrate both the show’s anniversary and Pete’s Birthday. But since he was happy to wait till then to comission it, he instead asked for another classic and one with easily my faviorite character on the show: Moritmer Mouse.

One of the best things House of Mouse did was bring back Mortimer Mouse. Introduced in Mickey’s Rival, Mortimer was an ex of minnies who showed up for one short to be a dick to mickey before running off and leaving Minnie at the mercy of a bull he pissed off. He also weirdly kept electrodes and a car battery in his pants. The short itself is.. not great mostly because Minnie dimissies Mickey rightfully being pissed someone is hitting on his girlfriend in front of him, making jokes at his expense, and generally being a pillock as being jealous... which yeah, yeah he is. Most of the time jealousy and supscison of your partner is ugly, gross and damaging to a relationship. You should trust them unless you’ve been given good reason not to, and if your paranoidly jealous about every friend she has she could be attracted to.. get some fucking help. Seriously, I need to, not for this for various other problems, but get some therapy to help with your trust issues or if your just being the kind of dick who naturally assumes men and women or men and men or women and women or men and nonibinary persons, or women and nonbinary peeps and so on and so on cannot be friends if they could possibly be togehter romantically... grow up. I say all of that because those are serious underlying issues and I didn’t want it to seem like for a moment I was supporting them... and because sometimes i’ts OKAY to be jealous, to either just feel a little jealous of someone, or to you know be irate because your girlfriend’s ex is hitting on her in front of you and she’s being entirely receptive to it.

So yeah i’ts really hard to feel bad for minnie’s bull attack or find the ending sweet after Minnie was you know, what ramona said for an entire short. However my point for this rant, besides giving out about the short again because I clearly didn’t enough in my Mickey Birthday Special, is that Mortimer is still pretty great. He’s a frat bro in the 40′s sense sure, but the idea of a local douche hoping to swoop in and woo minnie away, who has an oddly specific sense of humor and a bizzare, memorable and wonderful walk, seriously the short is worth watching for mortimier’s “I got two car batteris in my pants’ walk, is a good one. While he’d naturally show up in comics and what have you Mortimer just sort of vanished. But clearly someone on the House of Mouse staff, and Mousewerks before it, agreed because Morty was made easily one of the best and most recurring characters in the HOM, and often more prominent than Horace or Gus. While he still tried his old “I’m gonna do your common law wife act” a few times he was mostly there to be an annoying douche when the ep needed one and to be taken down a peg by everyone in the house. And that VERY MUCH includes Mickey. That’s also part of why I love this show bringing him back: It gives Mickey someone besides pete to give out too on a regular basis. He’s still his charming self about it but it’s lovelyt os ee Mickey sarcastically roast someone. And I honestly attribute the main factor of his sucess on the show to VA Maurice LaMarche. While his original VA, Sonny Dawson, was fantastic.. it’s Maurice who very clearly made the character his. While others like Jeff Bennet have taken over since i’ts Maurice who gave him his signature “ha-cha-cha” catchphrase, swagger and signiture voice. And no i’ts not lost on me that one of Maurice’s OTHER best roles is another cartoon mouse.. and I now very badly want him to meet Pinky and the Brain. But yeah, Maurice just oozes the smarm that defines mortimer for me, oozes condescinon and assholery and he, is., glorious. He was a faviorite as a kid, he’s a faviorite now, and Disney needs to use him more.. and also have Maurice voice him for wonderufl world of mickey mouse, though Jeff Bennett is not bad at all I just prefer the master at the role.

So obviously, after the nightmare of an evening america had yesterday, an episode not only about how wholesome mickey and minnie are but about Mickey teaming up with Mortimer was EXACTLY what i needed. So pitter patter, this is Mickey and the Culture clash. As always for house of mouse i’ll be chonking it up and since this one starts right with the wraparound, and sicnce you know I spent a godo few pagraphs going over mortimer and he’s only IN the wraparound this episode... let’s start there

Mickey and the Culture Clash: Don’t Go Changin, To Try and Please Me So we open the episode and the review proper with Mickey performing a banjo sernade for Minnie, their song in fact. It’s a really sweet scene.. that’s quickly ruined by Clarabelle being an asshole, who says i’ts a bit crude. Minnie counters that while “It’s not mozart”, it’s nice and she clearly likes it and the gesture. Instead of you know leaving it there like a good friend, like she’s SUPPOSED to be to Minnie in most continuities, Clarabelle.. takes the things she said and her having to run out to wrangle pluto out of context, painting it as her thinking he’s not sophisticated and then running out because of it. Oh and she tops it by pointing to a classified add from a MM looking for sophisticated companionship.

It just paints Clarabelle not as Minnie’s friend or a chatty gossip, but as a heartless bitch who has no trouble implying one of her best friends would cheat on her boyfriend TO HIS FACE, and is fine wrecking a perfectly lovely relationship just to have more to talk about. Seriously she starts gossiping to everybody on top of it just in case you thought Clarabelle was a decent person in any shape this episode. She’s the one thing about this episode that dosen’t work despite being integral to it.. well two but hte other thing is a small, end of episode gag we’ll get to. This.. this is an integral part of the plot. It also relies on Daisy and Donald being absent for the episode for what I can only assume is their annual sex decathalon because otherwise the second she heard about her friend doing this, before reassuring Minnie, Donald would be holdiing her while Daisy beat the absolute shit out of her for hurting thier closest friend and not bothering to take a look into anything when leveling such a rough accusation at Minnie. In a really stellar, really well paced episode, Clarabelle being so heartless stands out. It’s also, might as well get this out of the way, teh final episode not inlcuding the two holiday specials.. and it’s a good note to go out on otherwise, I just can’t ignore the obnoxious cow in the room.. in both senses of the word.

So yeah Mickey’s trying to be fancy, and Mortimer gets a good dig in about him reading “You having trouble sounding out the words”, but once he hears what’s going on, or rather once he realizes mickey things Mortimer’s personal add is in fact his girlfriend cheating on him, he decides to help Mickey. And to his credit for this con.. Mortimer actually thought things out on how to trick his rival, and his plan here is douchey as hell but incredibly genius: he offers to help mickey and while that’d normally be suspcious he offers a genuine, and very mortimer explination for helping him become a bit more sophisticated to win minnie back: if Minnie finds a handsome, sophisticated guy to date, what chance does MORTIMER have against that? At least with Mickey, in his deluded egocentric view of things anyway, he has a shot at beating him.

So Mickey classes it up a bit, taking some sopshitcated stances when announcing and trying to woo minnie by talking in ye olde english. When that fails, she just finds it silly but charming, Mickey finds Jose.. hitting on her.

Just.. I expect better from you man. Woo ladies all you like as long as your respectful but I expect better than to hit on someone else’s girlfriend.. which granted he has but given the last time we saw him do that, he nearly got stabbed a bunch and the last time he agressively hit on a woman he got punched in the beak as he should, you’d THINK he’d of learned something. Seriously once again Donald is only missing because this time Daisy would be holding Jose down while Donald hit him. Or possibly they’d take turns. Point is Jose REALLY shoudln’t be doing this and knows better.. marginally. But.. it is in character enough so ti’s not as bad as Clarabelle the homewrecker.

So Mickey tries being fancy and goes on to do poetry instead of letting O’Malley and the Alley Cats play.. which is a nice running gag the series does as they NEVER get to play.. which while funny is a shame since I love the Aristocats. So then we finally get what Mortimer’s been playing at, he swoops in, claims MICKEY dosen’t need HER, and uses the same personal add to trick her. See, while what Mortimer’s doing is vile.. unlike clarabelle I can repsect it at least. I don’t condone it and i’m glad he gets foiled.. but as a bad guy plan it’s pretty clever and for someone like Mortimer whose usually pretty incompitent.. it’s pretty suprising he could pull this off. It’s still pretty damn low and scummy, no question, but props to being able to outwit and nearly outplay two people who deal with your crap on a regular basis and still convincingly conning both. Thankfully while he tries to take Minnie out Mickey, in a great visual gag, puts two and two together, and busts out their song, with Mickey and Minnie heartwearmingly reuniting on stage as seen above. Then we get that gag I mentioned not liking: Mickey gets Morty back by planting a false marriage proposal from Moritmer to Clarabelle, again under MM and he gets carried off.. HAHA HE’S BEING FORCED INTO A MARRIAGE HE DOSEN’T. LAUGH. LAUGH AT IT. The gag just really hasn’t aged well, as otherwise it’s clever Mickey used Mortimer’s own trick against both him and the person who caused all of this but really.. Clarabelle gets no real compuance. At worse sshe finds out she was tricked.. but she again you know tried to break up her close friends relationship for shits and giggles. But .. it’s at the very end of the episode and very easy to ignore, so it dosen’t really bother me too bad, and compared to some gags of the type i’ve seen, it could be MUCH worse. Overall this wraparound is one of the series best and a good one to go out on. it has a simple premise, a brilliant antagonist plot, some great bits from all involved, and even a great Belle and Beast cameo. All in all a really good wraparound only hampered by a sexist and dated ending and Clarabelle being portrayed as ...

She’s the worst, in the world. Okay onto the shorts.

Mickey’s Piano Lesson: That was a Fun One

It really was. It’s a simple premise: Minnie wants MIckey to do a piano recital and he decides “I don’t need practice i’m mickey mouse. “ And it’s REALLY nice to have a short that has, rather than aw shucks mickey, shenanigans mickey. While thanks to the new shorts we’ve had tons, it’s still nice to get one in the House of Mouse era, and it’s just fun to see Mickey take the usual donald roll of letting his overconfidence punch him in the face> It fits both though: Both are everyman and while I lean towards the duck, to no one’s shock, Mickey is just as capable, and his lack of practice comes off less like the angry and hostile way donald would dismiss it and mroe just loveable procastination. And as someone who REALLY struggles with procastination I related to this short, as Mickey does everything else he’d rather do from bathing the dog to skydiving till Minnie, in a great bit informs him everyone from the president, to several dignitaries from other countries, to a televised audience will see. We then get two really great and really beatuifully animated bits as MIckey wrestles with the notes on thep age then fights with his piano as he performs, still pulling it off but destroying the thing and rightfully earning a glare form his girlfriend. Just a fun, slapstick short with a great premise.

Dance of the Goofys: Scary Children Set to classical music, this one has a bunch of goofys as Fairy’s, who are making the flowers go and the one who sleeps in ends up saving the king from a horrifing looking little brat. He reminds me of Montanna Max a bit.. speaking of which Creer Summer recnetly announced Elmyra won’t be in the reboot. And while this does make me fear actually good characters like Fifi, Montana Max, and more will be cut like the animanics reboot and I do feel for Cree not getting to be involved and hope they find another roll for her as, given her status in the industry she deserves better.. THANK FUCKING GOD. I’ll go into this in another review I have planned for the future but unlike the cuts made to animaniacs this was a REALLY good decision i’m really greatful for. Thank you crew thank you.

Back on topic, it’s just a fun, really beautifully animated short about the goofies and hteir shenanigans with a really great high concept.

Maestro Minnie: Brahm’s Lullabye: Simply Irresitable Another simple but clever and lovely to watch one, and one I like quite a bit more. Minnie is conducting some living violins to Brahm’s Lullabye to get a baby Violin to sleep, and we get some really beautiful shots of her as she does so.. only to get comically interuppted by other insteruments turning up the noise. Not much to say on this one as it’s short and simple.. but sometimes short and simple is just what you need and the fun premise nad really beautiful especially for tv animation at the time visuals really sell this one. ONce again, good stuff.

Overall: This was a REALLY good note to go out on. While as I said the Clarabelle stuff can eat my entire ass, everything else is really damn good and I highly recommend checking this one out. Next time, in about a month, we’ll be looking at Pete’s spotlight episode for his birfday. While you wait tommorow we have my first look at legend of the three cabs. But for now, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

#house of mouse #mickey mouse #minnie mouse #mortimer mouse #clarabelle cow #donald duck #daisy duck #goofy goof #mouseworks #maurice lamarche #mickey's culture clash

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the-final-sif · 5 years

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Just read you recent think on Mitsuki, and while I agree with some things, you're forgetting a lot. Like how Mitsuki is so ready to trust UA cuz Aizawa seems to understand Katsuki. Or how, in the first ep flashback, Katsuki just got praise for his 'stupid awesome quirk' without deserving that praise. Or, you know, how Katsuki got to the point in middle school where he was telling Izuku to jump off a building? And the sports festival? Katsuki probably would have laughed if it hadn't been him.

I’m not forgetting any of that, they’re all things that have been taken into consideration and either aren’t important to the situation, or are part of what I’m talking about.

To break this down,

I don’t care if she thinks that UA “understands” Katsuki, her child was kidnapped and held hostage for 2 days, and forced to fight for his life multiple times against several adult villains. The only thing that stopped the villians from murdering/torturing/turning Katsuki into a nomu/etc, was that they decided not to during that 2 day period. Even if she’s willing to forgive UA/Aizawa and understands that the situation was bad by all accounts, she could still show at least a little concern for her child’s physical and mental safety after he was kidnapped. The idea that she really believes a school “understanding” Katsuki and not praising him too much is more important then the fact he got kidnapped for and was held by villains for 2 days, speaks volumes on it’s own.

Also, it’s worth noting that Aizawa and UA do not understand Katsuki. They fail him multiple times, and call out in canon that they did so. Including; The Sports Festival, The kidnapping, & the aftermath of the kidnapping. Even going so far as to say that they neglected his mental health, in canon. They’ve messed up with him multiple times, and while it’s good that Aizawa doesn’t let him get away with bullshit, that doesn’t mean that they’ve done much to help him either.

Yes, Katsuki got a lot of praise as a child. I could talk for ages about gifted child syndrome and how that built up unrealistic expectations on him such that he believes he’s not allowed to make mistakes and takes responsibility for way to much as a result. However, this isn’t something I forgot in my original post. In my original post, the point was that Mitsuki acts/talks about it in such a way that implies that just sort of happened, when in reality that is on her and Marasu for not parenting Katsuki correctly. If they had raised him better, taught him to be kinder to others, put him into anger management/therapy, taught him how to handle his emotions in a health way, etc, he would be a much different person. But they didn’t, yet she still talks about it like she had no hand in it.

Also, again, as I said in my original post, a big part of this is timing. If this was just a PTA meeting or something, I’d have a very different opinion on this entire thing. But that’s not what this is. This is a meeting right after he got kidnapped, at a point where he likely still very shaken from the experience, and where he’s likely being dealing with a lot of negative media attention online. If there is any point in his life where he needs support from his parents, this is that time. I don’t care if he’s been a shitty kid in his life, right after he just got kidnapped is a time when he needs love and support from his parents. Not them talking about how shitty he is to his teachers while he’s still trying to recover from that.

That really has no baring on the conversation, at all. Was Katsuki telling Izuku to jump off a building unacceptable? Yes. However, neither Katsuki’s parents, nor Aizawa/All-Might have any idea that that event transpired. It’s called out in canon that what happened that day was unusual for Katsuki, that was not a normal interaction between him and Izuku. It was also something that happened when Katsuki was 14, ~2 ish years prior to the conversation I’m talking about.

Katsuki was an asshole, particularly to Izuku, when he was a kid. He still has a lot of those tendencies. That in no way negates the fact that after he was kidnapped is a wildly inappropriate time to start ragging on his flaws, alongside blaming him for getting kidnapped in the first place. Instead, that’s the sort of thing to be worked on through therapy and teaching over time. Or just, to be talked about at any other time besides right after he got kidnapped.

Also, it might be worth reflecting on why he was an asshole, where he learned to behave that way, and why he considers his own words/actions acceptable. Because as it turns out, kids don’t develop those habits out of thin air.

Here’s the thing, you can say that Katsuki would be laughing if it was anyone but him chained up at the sports festival, but I’d argue that he wouldn’t, because nobody else would ever be chained up at the sports festival. Neither the school, nor the author, could ever get away with that for any other student in class 1-A. If Shouto had refused to use his fire on Izuku, causing Izuku to win the fight and Izuku to follow him out of bounds in frustration and reject the first place medal, we all know damn well that he would’ve been allowed to walk away from it. Hell, we actually see Ojiro resigning after round 2 because he felt like he hadn’t earned his win, and he was allowed to do that without any issue. The only one who isn’t given the right to say no, and the only one who would ever be chained up to that podium is Katsuki.

And that comes down to the fact that because Katsuki refuses a lot of things, both on a character and reader level, people stop caring about whether or not he consents to things. They get used to forcing him to do things, and so that becomes normal and acceptable. He’s seen and portrayed as inheritable violent, uncontrollable, and “bad” which means they treat him in ways that would never be acceptable for other characters, and it becomes a self fulfilling prophecy as he sees himself that way. This happens on every level, be it touch, the sports festival, izuku following him around, etc. Katsuki is basically never respected when he tries to say no to something unless he steadfastly enforces that boundary through physical force.

That’s why Aizawa calls out what happened at the sports festival as a failure on UA’s part. Because that’s what it was.

That’s also why we see Tomura with the photo of Katsuki at the sports festival, and why Tomura thought Katsuki would join him. Tomura understands what it’s like to be seen and treated as monstrous, to be seen and treated as fundamentally destructive and dangerous, and he assumed that Katsuki would want to join him to be free of that.

When Tomura has restraints taken off Katsuki when asking him to make his choice, it’s because he understands how Katsuki’s been treated, and he’s playing to that. He explicitly says that they need to treat Katsuki as an equal, and to prove that he means that, the restraints have to come off. He also calls out that he’s not worried about Katsuki fighting back, because he believes Katsuki is smarter then that (which was a miscalculation on his part, not because Katsuki isn’t smart enough to know not to fight back, but because he underestimated Katsuki’s convictions and personal morals).

What Tomura is doing there is a very significant and important demonstration. He’s showing Katsuki through actions, that he is willing to treat him like a human being, even if the heroes aren’t. Tomura is showing basic respect for Katsuki, however undermined by the kidnapping it may be, moreso then his teachers/the heroes did, by allowing him his freedom when making a choice. Perhaps even more important, he’s showing that he sees Katsuki as capable of restraining himself, and of being non-destructive. What he’s really offering Katsuki there is proof that he is willing to treat him better then the heroes did, and that’s why he believes Katsuki will join him.

Anyways, the long and the short of it is that no, I did not forget any of that when I was making my prior post. I did consider all of those things on some level, and they don’t change my opinion that how Mitsuki behaved after the kidnapping is indicative of her being a bad parent, and that were this another character or if the gender roles of the situation were reversed, then I feel strongly that this wouldn’t even be a debate in the fandom.

That being said, who knows what direction canon will takes this. I’m hopeful that the issue will be explored more thoroughly, but we may very well never see Mitsuki in canon again. I’m also not saying that anyone else has to agree with me. My own opinions are not universal truth, and we really have very little canon interactions with Mitsuki and know so little about Katsuki’s childhood in general that nearly anything is possible. I can definitely appreciate Good Parent Mitsuki headcanons, and I’ve read some great fics with those sorts of takes. But my opinion on the matter is the above.

#katsuki bakugou #mitsuki bakugou #masaru bakugou #bnha #mha #character analysis #sif speaks #sif answers #my headcanons #mysticwolfshadows

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gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights · 5 years

Link

Rating: G

Summary: Side-effects may include: eating fabric, staring into bright lights, and being allergic to mothballs. (AKA, the one where Gabriel Agreste has moth tendencies, and Adrien is rightfully concerned.)

Word Count: 4203

Notes: Mostly inspired by the fact that there's so many Chat Noir cat tendencies fics and even a few Ladybug hibernation fics but WHERE are my Hawkmoth tendencies fics?? Anyway be the change you want to see

For non-english readers in particular since I got a lot of questions when I talked about it on discord: mothballs are little balls of pesticide/deodorant that can be used to repel moths. Usually kept in clothes drawers and are pretty outdated now but anyway its a Real Thing and not me trying to make an innuendo i swear lol

XXX

“Uh… Father?” Adrien peeked in through the cracked door. He shouldn’t—Father valued his privacy more than anything, including his son’s attention—but he couldn’t help it. The brief glance he’d caught was just too weird.

Gabriel snapped to attention, his glasses jostling slightly as he tore his eyes away from the blinding lamp in the center of his desk.

“Adrien.” His candycane-striped tie dropped out of his mouth. The end of it was completely chewn off. Was—did he just swallow that? People couldn’t digest silk, could they? “You’re supposed to be practicing your Chinese.”

“I-I know, I just came down to ask Nathalie—nevermind.” It wasn’t like she or Father were likely to adjust his schedule so he could get ice cream with his friends, especially not when Father was doing… whatever he was doing. “Are you okay?”

“That is no concern of yours,” he snapped. Which wasn’t a yes. Was this some new kind of coping mechanism?

Not for the first time, Adrien wished Father would agree to go to therapy.

“Um… okay. I’ll just—go back to work.”

He dashed back up the stairs before Father could decide that his momentary break should be punished. But still, he couldn’t get the image of the half-chewed tie or Father’s wide-eyed, trancelike stare out of his head.

XXX

“Have you noticed Father acting weird?” He finally got up the nerve to ask Nathalie. “I mean, weirder than usual?”

“I am sure he is just busy as always, Adrien.”

Which was just as much of a brush-off as “that is no concern of yours.” Maybe he should’ve tried a less direct approach, but he couldn’t think of one.

“Has he… been working on a line of flavored fabrics?” He tested one of his wilder theories. It would explain why Father’s tie was patterned like a candy cane, at least. Even Adrien knew that wasn’t in style.

Nathalie raised an eyebrow. “What would give you that idea?”

Somehow he got the feeling that telling Nathalie what he’d seen wasn’t a good idea. But who else could help Father if he was struggling?

“Um… well, he seemed like he was… eating his tie? When I saw him yesterday.”

She sighed, and Adrien swore he heard something like “not again” muttered under her breath. Maybe that was why he usually kept it tucked inside his vest?

“Your Father has developed some… odd habits lately. But I can assure you it is nothing to worry about.”

Father had said the same thing before Mom disappeared. Adrien didn’t stop worrying.

XXX

“I don’t see what the big deal is. So your dad likes to chew on fabric, so what? Not everyone can have excellent taste like me.” Plagg swallowed another wedge of Camembert as if to prove it.

Adrien rolled his eyes and rolled over on the floor, soaking up the warmth of the sunset spilling in through his window.

“Maybe kwamis can eat all sorts of weird stuff, but humans can’t. I just don’t know if this is some kind of coping mechanism, or something. Maybe he’s been avoiding me because he’s acting weird and he doesn’t want anyone to find out.”

It would explain why Father only talked to him through his tablet, more often than not. Maybe he was just embarrassed. But he couldn’t go on like that forever, right? Even if Mom’s disappearance hurt, they were better off leaning on each other than staying apart.

“Hate to break it to you, but your dad’s already weird, kid. Eating ties is probably the best of his qualities.”

Adrien sighed. It wasn’t like Plagg could understand; he just put whatever he wanted in his mouth. Adrien himself could understand a little—ever since becoming Chat Noir, he sometimes had the urge to chew on cords, strings, even some plants. It was a little embarrassing, but he could usually control himself. Maybe if he shouldn’t though. If Father saw him doing it, maybe he’d feel less weird about it himself?

...Or he’d punish Adrien for ruining perfectly good headphone cords. Yeah, that was more likely.

Maybe it wasn’t a big deal, and he should just drop it, but he wanted to do something to help his Father.

“Get him something better to eat?” Plagg suggested when Adrien voiced the thought out loud. “A good aged swiss might do the trick. Just don’t give him my Camembert; he doesn’t deserve it.”

“You’re useless,” he huffed. Maybe the internet would have better advice.

“Eating fabric” just brought up a bunch of articles about sewing machine problems and disobedient pets. Not exactly helpful. But “How to stop my dad from eating fabric” didn’t seem like a useful search entry, either.

Plagg squirmed under his chin, looking up at the phone screen he held over his face. “You think it’s got something to do with bugs?” He asked, pointing to the one search result Adrien’s thumb had been half-covering.

“How to control bugs that eat clothes,” the article was titled. Adrien snorted.

“Unless Father is secretly some kind of moth—”

His jaw snapped shut. No, no, he was not going there again. It had been bad enough when Ladybug suggested it before, and besides, it wasn’t like Father’s actions were any kind of proof.

Even if he had also been staring directly into a lamp, entranced…

“Adrien? Kid, you don’t look so hot. What’s going on?”

He didn’t want to say it. It was stupid, anyway; Father had been akumatized before. He shuddered just remembering it.

But he wasn’t just Adrien Agreste, son of Gabriel Agreste. He was also Chat Noir, Hero of Paris. And it would be irresponsible to drop a lead just because he was scared.

“Do you think… would Hawkmoth have animal tendencies from his miraculous too?”

Plagg’s eyes went wide—wider than they always were, anyway. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Just tell me, Plagg.” He didn’t want to admit what he was saying at all—this was his father, and even if he could be restrictive and controlling, he wasn’t evil.

He was being ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.

“Well… yeah. All miraculous users do. Nooroo’s holders have always been weirder though. They tend to be shut-ins. Couldn’t even bribe them out with my best brie.”

“So you haven’t been around a lot of past Hawkmoths?” It was both relieving and disappointing, but it made sense. If Plagg thought Father had the side-effects, he would’ve said something before now. Not that Plagg saw much of Father, considering Adrien didn’t see much of him…

“Nope. They sent out their champions to fight for them most of the time. Not like us who’ve gotta do the real work.”

Adrien snorted. “What work?”

“Hey, protecting you when you take a beating isn’t easy!” Plagg flicked his nose, and he laughed.

“Fair, I guess.” Adrien rolled over onto his stomach as his kwami zipped away. Probably grabbing some Camembert, or a stinky sock to snuggle under.

But to his surprise, Plagg didn’t come back with either of those things. Instead he was carrying something just as smelly—if not worse. A small, round white ball. He was pretty sure he’d seen ones like it in his sweater drawer.

Adrien sat up and covered his nose. “Is that a—mothball?”

“You’re still worried about your dad, right?”

He blinked. It was easy to forget that Plagg could be perceptive when he wanted to be. “I don’t see what mothballs have to do with this.”

“Really. You don’t see what mothballs have to do with telling if someone is Hawkmoth,” he deadpanned.

“You think I should see if Father is… you know… by seeing if he hates mothballs? Do you really think that will work? I thought Hawkmoth had the butterfly miraculous.”

“You’re the one who was worried about it.” Plagg shrugged. “And like I said, the butterfly miraculous is weird. Think there might’ve been something wrong with it even before it was used by a supervillain. Maybe Hawkmoth picked his name for a reason. Anyway, you won’t know unless you try it.”

As far as Plagg’s ideas went, it wasn’t too bad. It didn’t involve cheese, at least. And if Father wasn’t hiding anything, then he wouldn’t be bothered by it, right?

Adrien took the mothball from his kwami’s outstretched paws.

He was going to prove that his Father wasn’t Hawkmoth. And then he’d figure out what to do about the whole eating fabric situation.

XXX

When Nino told him he should push back against Father’s boundaries, Adrien was pretty sure this wasn’t what he meant. Anxiety prickled the hairs on the back of his neck as he paced in front of the bedroom door.

“Come on kid, don’t get cold feet now,” Plagg whispered.

“My feet aren’t cold. I have socks on.” Adrien frowned down at his red-and-black socks. They kept his footsteps quiet and gave him a little boost of confidence. Ladybug wouldn’t be afraid to peek in his father’s room.

“Let’s do it,” he said with newfound determination, and cracked open the door.

Hadn’t Father had a window in here at one point? The sunset should be streaming in right about now, but instead Adrien had to fumble in the pitch black for the lightswitch. When the room illuminated, he blinked in shock.

“Wow.” Plagg whistled. “Your dad is a few wedges short of a wheel for sure.”

That… that was one way to say it. Fabric was scattered across the floor in careless heaps. At one point Adrien would have blamed it on his designing, but if that were the case, the clothes wouldn’t look gnawed on.

“This is worse than I thought, Plagg.” Maybe it was a good thing his kwami had encouraged him to rebel after all. Father seriously needed help. Humans shouldn’t even be able to digest silk and wool! What if he got some kind of disease? What if he already had some kind of disease? That second option was more likely, considering… well, all this.

“So, you gonna drop those mothballs or not?”

“Right.” Adrien snapped out of his thoughts and began digging the white spheres out of his pockets. He’d have to bury them in the chewed up clothes so Father wouldn’t see them. But what if Father did notice? Was it really worth the risk just to ease his mind about Father being Hawkmoth?

...Yes, it was. Especially considering there was no proof Hawkmoth couldn’t akumatize himself. And Father had been the only lead Ladybug had ever had…

He shook his head. Just put the mothballs down, and he could prove his Father was innocent once and for all.

“Alright, let's get out of here. This place is creepy,” Plagg said when Adrien was done.

“I thought you would’ve liked the smell at least,” he tried to joke. Better that than actually thinking about what he was doing.

“I’ll take your stinky socks over this any day.”

Adrien crept out of the bedroom, hoping that this whole endeavor ended up being pointless.

XXX

Father had a cold.

That was what Nathalie said, anyway. Adrien had never actually seen Father sick before. Nothing could keep him away from his work, or from… whatever he did when he was busy ignoring Adrien.

But he heard him wheezing behind his bedroom door, so he really had some kind of illness.

...Or he was allergic to the mothballs. Plagg didn’t say it, but from the pinched look on his face every time Adrien passed by Father’s door, he was definitely thinking it.

“It has to be a coincidence,” Adrien told Plagg, who shrugged.

“Hey, don’t look at me. You’re the one who had the idea that your dad is Hawkmoth in the first place.”

“Technically that was Ladybug,” he mumbled, flopping back on his bed. “Maybe he just got sick from eating all that fabric.”

“Maybe. But didn’t Nathalie say he’s been doing that for a while?”

Dang it, Plagg was right there. It was just so surreal, thinking his father could actually be the supervillain he’d been fighting this whole time.

It was going to take more than therapy to fix this.

XXX

“You think he’s planning something?” Ladybug asked when they lay back on their usual rooftop at the end of their patrol route.

Adrien’s stomach twisted. There’d been no sign of an akuma for two weeks.

Father had been sick for two weeks.

Coincidence. Right?

“Maybe,” he mumbled, his tail twitching fitfully. Then he sat up and shook his head. “Actually, LB…”

“Yeah?” She sat up too, her gaze completely focused on him. While he normally loved to be the center of her attention, right now he wished he had nothing to say.

“Remember when you thought… well, when you thought Gabriel Agreste might be Hawkmoth?”

She startled. “Why are you bringing this up now?”

“Well, um… I got a tip from uh… Adrien. You know, Adrien Agreste?”

“Of course I know him, he’s—I-I mean, everyone knows Adrien, right?” For some reason, her face looked pink in the moonlight.

“Right, right. Anyway… he was telling me he was worried about his father, and it’s kind of a long story… but it seems like he might have some… moth tendencies.”

Ladybug blinked. It felt like a long shot, now that he said it out loud. Stupid. He was probably just overreacting.

“What kind of moth tendencies?” She asked, her voice carefully guarded.

“Eating fabric. Staring at bright lights. Being allergic to mothballs.”

“Mothballs?” She laughed. “Sorry, sorry, I believe you. It’s just—wow. And here I thought my wanting to eat bugs was weird.”

“You? Weird? Never,” he joked to relieve some tension. She believed him. She believed him, and that meant that he wasn’t just overreacting. Which meant his father could be Hawkmoth.

He swallowed, trying to hide the hole that seemed to open in the pit of his stomach.

“So… you want to investigate him? Even though he was akumatized?” Her mask furrowed around her brow, the way it tended to when she worked out her lucky charms.

“I don’t… I don’t know.” He sighed and shook his head. “It wouldn’t be easy. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“You—what?”

Oops. Probably shouldn’t have mentioned that.

“It’s no big deal. I just wanted to confirm some things for myself before taking Adrien’s word for it.”

“Adrien would never lie,” Ladybug was quick to say.

His lips quirked upward. “I’m sure he’d be flattered to know you trust him.”

Her accusation of Gabriel before couldn’t have been from any kind of animosity towards him, then. Unless it was animosity on his behalf? Did he know how much his father isolated him? No, she’d have no reason to look that closely behind his model smile.

“So… why did you think Hawkmoth was Mr. Agreste before?” He asked hesitantly. Before she’d said it was a secret, and he hadn’t pressed her, but it seemed an even more serious matter now. “We gave up the lead pretty fast last time.”

“Maybe too fast.” She grimaced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to be true anyway… and as for why I thought that… I found a book that I learned belonged to him. If he isn’t Hawkmoth, then it was my fault he became akumatized into the Collector.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s only ever Hawkmoth’s fault, you know that.” Adrien squeezed her shoulder, even as inwardly his mind was racing. Ladybug had found his father’s book when he’d lost it? How? She had been there when Lila had been talking about it; maybe she’d had to double back for some reason? “Wait—you’re telling me that book he was so attached to had something to do with Hawkmoth?”

Adrien had been the one with the book at first. The one she’d seen with it. Why did she trust him so much?

“Yes. Master Fu took pictures of it before I returned it so Adrien—anyway.” She waved her hands, as if all that wasn’t important, even though it definitely was. Father had never mentioned Ladybug returning his book! “Master Fu said the book was lost at the same time as the butterfly and peacock miraculouses. It’s not hard to assume they’d end up in the same place.”

Adrien was glad he wasn’t standing, because he probably would have fallen. “That’s… a pretty big lead.”

“It really is. I should have been more responsible about investigating. Less selfish.”

He had no idea what she meant by that, but the crushed look in her eyes prompted him not to ask.

“If this is true, Adrien’s going to be heartbroken,” she murmured, quietly enough he wasn’t sure he was meant to hear.

She was right about that. But there was no reason for her to feel bad because of it.

“Hey, he’s the one who gave me the tip, remember? Maybe it won’t be such a shock to him.”

Huh. He got all those words out with barely a crack to his voice. Maybe he was in shock.

“Maybe. But he’ll still be crushed. I don’t know if he has any other family, and his mom is gone. As awful as his father is, I just don’t know…” She trailed off, shaking her head.

“I don’t know either.”

He hadn’t thought about it. Any time his thoughts danced too close to the implications of his theory, they danced back just as quickly. He had to be brave. Ladybug was counting on him; Paris was counting on him. It didn’t matter if one scared boy lost his father.

“So what… what do we do now?” She asked, voice soft. “We need proof, but I don’t know how to get it.”

Plans were normally her area of expertise. If she didn’t know what to do…

“I don’t know. Get a big lamp and hope it attracts him?” He shouldn’t be joking right now, but it was the only thing distracting him from panicking.

(Nino’s family might take him in. Or there was always the Gorilla. He wasn’t alone, he wouldn’t be alone—)

“You know, that’s actually not a bad idea.”

“Wait, it’s—it’s not?” He blinked.

“No, it isn’t. You’re a clever kitty when you want to be.”

He blushed under her praise and fought off a purr. “Okay, so we draw him out with a big lamp. If Hawkmoth really does have the same kind of side-effects as us, then it should work regardless of whether or not he’s transformed, right?”

“Right. So the only question is how we get a lamp big enough to draw him out.” Her gaze drifted across the rooftops, to the top of the Le Grande Paris hotel. A smirk spread across her face.

“What are you thinking, Bugaboo?”

“I’m thinking I just answered that question.”

XXX

Gabriel jolted back into consciousness when his desk lamp winked out. Impossible—the mansion had its own generator, mostly to keep the city from learning of his underground lair.

The lair. Where Emilie was.

“Nooroo!” He snarled, spitting the end of his tie out as he did. Cursed side-effects; he could hardly go a day without chewing on the silk. At least he could hide the end of it under his vest, which he hadn’t taken off even while in bed. Better not to have Nathalie nagging him about his “habits” again.

“Yes, Master?” His kwami weakly flew out from under his pillow. Whatever illness Gabriel had contracted, Nooroo seemed to mirror. A disconcerting fact, considering how Duusuu and Emilie had felt before her… well.

But he couldn’t take off his miraculous. Not until his work was finished. Unfortunately, with the incessant itching and cough that had plagued him for two weeks, he hadn’t been able to sense much negative emotion beyond his own. He wasn’t sure that he could stand without wheezing and collapsing from dizziness.

That dizziness was clouding his mind already. What was he doing again?

“Emilie,” he rasped.

“What about her, Master?”

“Go see if… no. I need you with me. In case…”

He dissolved into a coughing fit. Nooroo, the pathetic creature, only looked on in sympathy.

“Master, you aren’t well. Perhaps if you removed my miraculous—”

“No!” he snapped, making the kwami flinch. “No. Let’s… investigate the power outage.”

Fire flared across his skin as he threw his legs over the side of the bed. Nooroo still hovered uselessly. It was tempting to transform, but if his sudden illness was related to the miraculous, that would only exacerbate his condition.

One step in front of the other. He would not be bested by this trifling inconvenience, not with Emilie on the line.

He stumbled through the door, bracing himself against the knob with an iron grip. The generator never felt so far away.

“Master, you really should…”

Be quiet! He would’ve shouted, but his voice was little more than a rasp now. Everything spun. Oh, if only Nathalie hadn’t gone home for the night!

Once he made it to the hallway, however, some of the fog cleared. His lungs didn’t feel quite so tight. But there was… something else. A glow that hadn’t been visible from his room. Through the window, like a beacon of warmth and light… Something that pushed against the darkness of his grief and rage…

His legs regained their strength the closer he grew to the light. It involved actually going out through his front door, but that wasn’t so bad, was it? It was near midnight, with barely a buzz of traffic, and… and the light. How could he possibly sense any negative emotions when staring into its blinding fluorescence?

Dully he realized he should be worried about that—he needed those negative emotions if he wanted to save his beloved Emilie—but it was difficult to think beyond navigating the narrow alleyways to follow the bright beacon. How was it still out of reach? He swore it had been just outside his window, a halo of light, with just a few shadows dancing within… shadows in the shape of… some kind of insect…?

Before he could discern the image now glowing against the brick wall, something wrapped around him from behind.

“Gotcha,” a girl’s voice hissed. The string binding him dug into his arms.

“It’s really him,” a boy breathed.

“Or he’s just crazy. We haven’t ruled that out yet.”

“Unhand me at once!” Gabriel shouted—tried to shout. His voice still hadn’t fully recovered. Nooroo was safely hidden in his jacket, and for a moment he considered transforming. Why had he gone out without a bodyguard? He’d made enough enemies even as a civilian; he should’ve known better, but that cursed light—the light that left spots in his eyes as a red-and-black arm reached down to unplug its source.

“Sorry, Mister Agreste. Not until we check you for any mysterious jewelry.”

The girl spun him around, and he came face-to-face with his archnemesis herself. It was difficult to keep the sneer off his face.

“Does the hero of Paris often accost civilians in the street?”

“Only when they show at least three signs of being Hawkbutt,” Chat Noir said from behind her. He wore a sterile smile, one that clashed with the bitter green of his glinting scleras.

Gabriel shuddered. He was just a child. Nothing to be afraid of, even with the power of destruction curled within his ink-black ring.

Even when he apparently knew Gabriel’s identity.

“I’ll be reporting this to the authorities,” he still threatened as he processed the scene. Ladybug and Chat Noir, confronting him in an alleyway with no witnesses. A now-dark spotlight he now recognized as Queen Bee’s signal. A red-and-black cord that must have been the hero’s Lucky Charm

They’d planned this. They knew.

Still, he clung to the hope that they wouldn’t find his miraculous. Not when it was hidden under—

Ladybug tugged his half-eaten tie out from his vest. “Wow, you weren’t kidding. This is...”

She trailed off as her eyes caught the shine of purple beneath the red and white silk. Beside her, Chat Noir froze.

“Nooroo, dark wings—!”

Chat Noir’s claw snagged the brooch before he could complete the phrase. Nooroo zipped back into the miraculous, and Gabriel swore he heard the kwami sigh in relief.

This was… not ideal.

“It is you.” Chat Noir’s hands shook—with rage? Gabriel wouldn’t begrudge him that. He instinctively moved to capitalize on that emotion before remembering he couldn’t akumatize anyone in his current state.

“Chat…?” Ladybug reached out to him, and he turned to bury himself in her arms.

Gabriel thought it might provide an opportunity to squirm free from Ladybug’s string, but her grip on her yo-yo was just as tight as her grip on her partner. He grit his teeth. Surely there was a way out of this! He couldn’t lose to two teenagers over—over chasing a spotlight!

“It’s okay. I’m here,” the girl was consoling him, though the useless hero had barely done anything besides some quick sleight of hand.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s going to be okay.” He sniffled and smiled softly at her. Then his gaze sharpened to steel when he looked back at Gabriel.

“Come on, Father. I hope they have good therapy in jail.”

#fic tag #gabriel agreste has no rights #hawkmoth has no rights #miraculous ladybug #gabriel agreste #hawkmoth #adrien agreste #plagg #ladybug #tali writes #crackfic #quality content #please dont take this too seriously lol

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prongsisabadger · 3 years

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TWP Chapter 24

I really needed to stop getting injured on the battlefield, eating med bay food was getting a little old. That, and Master Plo had threatened to bench me unless I learned some self-preservation. I couldn't really argue with him on that point, I did have a tendency to put myself in harm's way to spare others, the thing is, that if I was getting injured this often it was because I was risking myself the way clones did on a regular basis. If they thought I was getting injured a lot, it was because clones were getting killed a lot. That didn't erase the fact that I probably had a savior complex and needed therapy, but that was beside the point. At the end of the day, it was all worth it. I didn't do these things for the clone's gratefulness or recognition, but it felt nice all the same. The best part of doing what I did was seeing the injured clones I saved being released from medical care. That was what kept me going.

Different battalions had different ways of showing loyalty, affection and gratefulness, I came to realize. The Pack made sure to integrate you to the force, welcome you in with open arms and regard you as a full fledged member of the family. The 501st was a little more clumsy in their approach, they refused to call you anything but the title they'd chosen for you and on rare occasions saluted you or even patted your shoulder or back.

The 212th on the other hand, were the kind of men that returned the favor silently. Just like their general, they were better at showing rather than telling, which is why T.H Boil and Waxer were assigned to be my official wingmen. And by wingman I mean shadows. It had been a unanimous decision of the three after the skirmish on Naboo. They had approached Commander Cody, and then General Kenobi with the idea. If I was going to put myself in so much danger for their sake, the least they could do was make sure I didn't get myself killed in the process, they said. Master Kenobi found the wording very amusing. He agreed to it because it would give him a little peace of mind since it would be harder for me to get killed with people actively trying to stop me from doing so.

A little peace of mind and a ton less anxiety. But he never said that, of course. Obi-Wan Kenobi would be dead before he told anyone a situation made him have feelings, but I had grown amongst the sand people and then lived with the Kel Dor. I knew stoic when I saw it, and I had learned how to read it. Master Kenobi was a lot easier to read than he thought, one just had to look at his actions rather than his words. There was a reason he had perfected sarcasm and made it into an art form, there was a reason for him to grow silent when things got rough. Obi-Wan Kenobi was many things, cold was not one of them.

I did also realize I would have to be more careful though. Severe injuries would be quite detrimental to my health in the long run, and I still wanted to be able to protect people once the war ended. But in order to do so, I would have to survive that long first. The thought of the war ending seemed incredibly far-fetched at the moment. Conflicts were starting in all corners of the galaxy, those that were already in motion continued to escalate, and the GAR's troops continued to be stretched even more thinly. The kaminoans were working overtime to provide fresh troops to aid the overworked ones and Jedi were being Knighted left and right to make up for the lack thereof in the battlefield. Things were complicated, and they would get even worse long before the war came to an end.

But there was no use in thinking about the future, I had to make sure to be present in the moment or I ran the risk of making mistakes I would surely regret. For now, I had to rest and recoup as best as I could and start preparing for our next assault on Felucia. We would be working alongside the 501st once again, and there was much work to do still. We had two battalions to coordinate, a patrol to organize and a planet to take. Even if battles often forced one to throw the plan out the window, it paid well to be prepared.

During my time in the med bay, I'd gotten into the habit of calling The Pack. It was usually Art who had the holo transmitter and passed it around the barracks whenever we spoke. I hadn't realized just how much I missed them until I was put on bed rest for an entire week after Naboo and there had been no one with me. No Art to tease me for being reckless, no Headfirst to punch my arm for being stupid, no annoyed Twitch to grumble about my savior complex. There was no Wolffe either to be angry at me in that quiet, exasperated way of his, no pat on the shoulder.

Naturally, none of them had said a thing about it when I called, only Art did that first time and quit instantly when I didn't laugh with him. They understood, they didn't say it but they missed me too. I would tell them about my day and they would return the favor, maybe throw in a funny anecdote of something silly one of them had done. It felt extremely lonely, but it comforted me to know they were there, whole, healthy and alive.

"Took your time," said Art when I called.

I had waited until the end of the day when I could have some peace and quiet in my quarters. I was sitting crossed legged on my bunk, the holo transmitter on the mattress in front of me.

"Sorry, we're moving in on Felucia soon so last minute details are taking most of my time," I answered honestly before yawning. "How 's the gang? You guys going anywhere soon?"

"Not right now, the General is dealing with things in the Temple and we were given a few days off before we are assigned another quadrant patrol," he said sitting down on his own bunk. "Things are quite boring without you here, Commander. None of the boys will let me work on them."

"That's because none of us want our entire bodies tattooed like the Commander does." Said a voice outside the hologram. It was most likely Headfirst.

I chuckled and smiled fondly, I missed them so much.

"Well, this will be my last assignment with Master Kenobi until new orders come in, so you'll have your canvas back in no time, Art." I said. "Just make sure you find some blue and orange ink, I'm gonna need it."

"How many?" He asked somberly, as if he felt the weight of every name he tattooed on my skin.

"Fourteen blue, one orange," I answered. "Orto Plutonia was especially rough on the 501st. I'll tell you about it when I see you."

I knew there was a chance of someone overhearing my conversations with Art, and although Jedi were allowed their opinions, my thoughts on Chairman Cho weren't exactly Jedi-like.

"Make sure you do," he answered before leaning back on his bunk and smirking. "By the way, Wolffe found out what you did on Naboo. He isn't happy."

I groaned, the man was going to put me through the grinder for this one. One thing was shielding someone on instinct, another thing entirely was compromising one's own health because 'I'm gonna die anyway'.

"Fuck, he's gonna kill me."

"Nah, he's just concerned for you, and a little overprotective if you ask me. I told him already Jedi can't have relationships but he doesn't seem to-"

"Art, stop teasing the man, he's got enough on his plate already."

"I'm just saying, if he wants to get laid, he should look elsewhere, Jedi code and everything…"

I laughed hard. I sometimes forgot the clones were younger than me even if they didn't look it.

"I mean he could if he found a Jedi looking to let off some steam." I kept laughing.

But Art seemed to freeze. He sat so still all of a sudden that I thought the signal was getting cut.

"What do you mean?" He asked finally, seemingly forcing himself out of his shock.

"Well, Jedi aren't allowed possessive relationships and emotional attachments, sex isn't necessarily forbidden. It depends on how the Jedi decides to interpret the c-"

"Are you telling me none of you are virgins?!" He probably was a little too loud about it considering he was inside the barracks, but I didn't really mind telling him since it was a common misconception.

"Are you telling me you thought Obi-Wan Kenobi was?" I laughed. "A man is not that sassy and confident if he isn't a great lay, he screams big d-"

"But wait, that means you…"

I laughed even harder.

"Is that really what you are worried about?" I wiped the tears from my eyes as I tried to answer without making him feel stupid about it. "I could if I wanted to, Art. I just chose not to because I need an emotional connection with a person to even want it, and since I am a Jedi and we don't allow those, sex isn't something I want because to me it implies an emotional attachment."

There was a beat of silence as he considered this. He even looked around beyond where the Hologram ended, probably to see if his brothers were as baffled by this as he was.

"I feel cheated," he said finally. "You are telling me I might have had a chance with General Fisto?"

I smirked and raised my eyebrow, now this was new intel to me.

"Art, I don't think the GAR rules of conduct allow for that either, regardless of Master Fisto's status as a Jedi."

He sighed dramatically.

"Yeah, I know but still."

I yawned again and tried to cover it with my hands. The day had been quite hectic, and I had an early morning the next day in order to put the finishing touches on the plan. I said goodbye to Art and turned the transmission off. Chatting with my friend always put me in a better mood, and to have that comfort before heading to bed made for very uneventful nights. I would let him deal with the new information I'd dumped on him, it would take a while for him to assimilate. It would also be less fun to stop him from trying to get me -or Force forbid, Master Plo Koon- laid. Art was a romantic at heart, he thrived when playing matchmaker, and I would definitely be one of his targets. I didn't mind though, it was fun to frustrate people into giving up.

I put the holo transmitter away before changing into my sleeping clothes. As I layed down,it occured to me that having such strong attachments to those around me might not be wise. But it felt so right, to have people to care for, to be cared for. It felt right to have friends, to have family, to have the care, love and loyalty of people. Oh and to give it back, to return it was even better. To protect, to care, to love, to miss. How could it be wrong? Yes, the explanation was simple enough. Attachments create strong feelings, and if those feelings are hurt then the way the person reacts might lead them to the dark side. But is it not the reaction the problem rather than the attachment? Surely healthy coping mechanisms and emotional maturity would be much more detrimental to the dark side, wouldn't they?

Wouldn't they?

#TWP #clone wars fan fiction #star wars the clone wars #plo koon #obi-wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #commander wolffe #captain rex #padawan!oc

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raysofcrosby · 5 years

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LITTLE DO YOU KNOW – T. SEGUIN

"𝘏𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 '𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺'." ─ 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐔𝐒

gif credit (x)

series masterlist

requested: yes | no

warnings: just some swearing nbd

word count: 4,113 [ oof yikes ]

authors note: originally i was gonna turn this idea into a fic, but like...i have no energy for that. so if anyone wants it to, it can be a multi part series for seggy boy :) anyway, stop by and request something or let me know what you think about this–– ok bye and enjoy!!

"Baby Benn, I need your assistance." You looked up from your Physiology book to see Big Rig, otherwise known as Jamie Oleksiak, or as you like to call him– a big teddy bear– make his way over to you.

"She's studying Jamie, what do you need?" Dave said, never taking his eyes off of Klingberg's ankle as he continued to tape it.

"What's more important? My deathly aching shin or this..." He picked the book up from your hands and lazily flipped through the pages, crinkling his nose in disgust. "This migraine-inducing book."

"Give that back," You said, standing up and reaching across the desk, taking your book from his hands. "This migraine-inducing book is what will get me my degree, which will hopefully lead to a job you teddy bear."

"Still didn't answer my question."

You sighed and marked the page before closing your book and standing up from the small desk. "Is it the same one?"

"Yup!" He smiled and hopped up onto one of the stretching tables, holding out his right leg. "So tell me doc, does it need to be amputated? Am I going to die of this killing pain?"

Before you could answer, he was getting smacked in the back of the head by a green resistance band. You looked over and saw Jamie, your older brother, rolling his eyes just as he tossed the band at you. "If you don't do your stretches it won't be the shin splints that kills you, it'll be me."

"Damn Chubbs, I was just playing," Big Rig groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "You didn't need to almost decapitate me."

"Oh, so I can go back to studying?" You asked, holding out the resistance bands as your brother, Dave and a few of the other players getting serviced laughed. "Unless you want to write this paper for me after your game tonight?"

Big Rig rolled his eyes and grabbed the band, looping his foot through it and starting to stretch his shin. "You just lost your spot as my favorite trainer in training."

"I'm the only trainer in training, J." You reached out for the resistance band and made him take more into his grip. "Keep it tight and stretch slow. You'll get the most out of it that way."

Soft snickering behind you soon turned into a burst of laughter and you watched as Big Rig's attempt to hide a smirk, ultimately failed. You sighed and rolled your eyes, not needing to know who the laughter belonged to. "27-years-old and still acting like a pre-pubescent boy with an underdeveloped frontal lobe? Could only be you, Segs."

Tyler fake scoffed, bringing a hand to his chest and looking at you with hurt eyes. "I'm flattered you've managed to keep my age tucked away in that big brain of yours, but pre-pubescent? I figured baby Benn would have a much better insult than that."

"Oh, I have tons of better insults," sitting down in your chair, you picked up your book and smiled at him. "Just none that your baby brain would be able to even begin to comprehend."

His hurt look faded and he licked his top teeth, shaking his head and laughing. "You'd be very surprised at what this baby brain can understand."

You gasped, this time holding your hand to your chest and looking at him in wonder. "You mean that you're capable of having knowledge in anything besides Hockey and breasts?"

You heard the snap of Big Rig's resistance band echo as it flew off of his foot. The other guys stared at you in awe before laughing at Tyler. You raised a single eyebrow at your brother's best friend, daring him to snipe back at you. But when he opened his mouth, Jamie stepped in your vision, picking up Big Rig's resistance band. "Okay you two, stop bickering like some stupid lovesick teenagers." He tossed the resistance band at Big Rig and turned to you. "And please, I never want to hear the word breasts come out of your mouth again."

"I'm almost 22 Jamie, it's perfectly normal for–"

He held up a hand and shook his head. "For the sake of my ears, just...please, no bodily mentions. I'd just rather not have that in my head."

You sunk back down into your chair, as he went to grab a foam roller. Before looking back at your book, you peeked over the top of it to see Tyler stuffing a heating pad into his shirt, holding it firmly on his left shoulder. As if he could feel you staring, he looked up, resting his back against the wall and smirked, raising a single eyebrow before tapping his temple and mouthing "big brain."

You rolled your eyes and subtly cleared your throat and turned the page, using your middle finger that you made sure was perfectly within his line of vision. He laughed and covered it up with a cough before shaking his head and leaving the training room completely.

It was normal, dealing with the chirps of your brothers' teammates. You'd been around them for the last three years of your college education, only this time during your last year, you were working alongside them. It was a weird adjustment, going from seeing them in the corridors post-game, relaxing on the weekends at a bar to shadowing their athletic training staff during practices and games. When you mentioned your internship, Jamie didn't even bother to ask you if you wanted to shadow the Dallas Stars Athletic Trainers. Mainly because he knew you were too afraid to ask. So he just went up to Jim Nill and asked if you could do your internship there for the season and that was it.

That's how you got your internship.

You were grateful for the fact that your brother was able to help you get your foot in the door with this internship, which is why you did anything and everything that your 'bosses' asked. Whether it was replacing heating pads, washing the covers for them, changing the water in the heater– any grunt work, you did with no hesitation. And they appreciated seeing you so willing to learn what their day-to-day lives were like when they were on the job. Eventually, you went from doing grunt work to being able to tape up ankles, help with stretches, almost anything except for stitching. That, you weren't allowed to do.

The boys took you in as one of their own the moment most of them met you, your freshman year at SMU. It was easy to 'adopt' Chubb's little sister, as they so liked to put it. And the moment that you stepped foot into the training room with your official Dallas Stars polo, that's when the real fun began. Their jokes about you being 'Baby Benn' never seemed to end. You were often victim to their playful chirping and of course, they didn't bother to keep the language clean of innuendos are curse words. They knew that they didn't have to though, especially since you grew up with Jordie and Jamie Benn as your two older brothers. Not only had you'd grown up knowing what the Hockey atmosphere was like, but you could also give it right back to them.

And man, they loved it. Tyler, however, seemed to love it the most. Whether it was because he was Jamie's best friend or he just took a special interest in picking on you, you never figured it out. Besides Big Rig and Bishop, you were close to Tyler. Mainly, since he was Jamie's best friend, but also because of all of the ways he's helped you out in the last four years. He and Jamie moved you into your dorm room every year since freshman year. When they were on long roadies, Tyler paid you to come over and take care of the dogs, though you never took the money because playing with his three boys was like free therapy and his house was only a few minutes down the road. And if inclement weather forced you to evacuate campus and you didn't feel like staying on Jamie's fancy leather couch, Tyler offered you one of his many guest rooms. Though most of the time, you just took the couch at Jamie's.

Tyler may be your big brother's best friend so you've got to know him a little bit over the last few years...but if there was one thing you knew most about him, it was his womanizing reputation about Dallas. Hell, around anyplace he steps foot in. He knows he's a damn good hockey player, he knows that he's not exactly ugly and he's damn well aware of all of the women who'd love to say that they spent the night with Stanley Cup Champion, Tyler Seguin. And he doesn't care because like any 20-something male, he's getting laid and that's all that matters.

Which, you guess is why the two of you tend to butt heads and chirp at each other the most. You can't stand guys who bounce from girl to girl and he's just an ass. Especially since he always joins in whenever Jamie rags on your boyfriend of two years, Cole. For as long as you've been dating, Jamie and Tyler have refused to let up on the jokes involving his red-shirt senior status on the baseball team or his involvement in Beta Upsilon Chi. They'd always sneak in stupid frat jokes whenever they were around him, knowing that he'd probably never catch on. You couldn't rebuke them though, because well...Cole kind of was your stereotypical Frat bro. But you got enough of the negative comments from your dad and oldest brother whenever you were at home, you didn't want them to follow you down at school too.

Your ringtone blaring from your backpack that was hanging on the back of your chair tore you away from your textbook. When you put it down, you noticed that the training room was empty and their warm-up music was echoing softly from outside of the room. It happens sometimes, you getting so lost in your schoolwork that you just tend to zone out all noise. And you weren't needed out on the bench until game time anyway, so it was no wonder why Dave didn't bother to interrupt your reading.

You reached into your backpack and grabbed your phone, looking at the screen to see that Cole was calling. Pressing the green button, you brought the phone up to your ear and picked your book back up. "Hey, what's up?"

"Hey babe where are you?" His voice was being muffled by the loud music coming from his end of the call.

You laughed, turning another page. "I think the better question, is where are you?"

You could hear him talking to people in the background as the music overtook his side of the call. Ignoring it, you took a deep breath and sighed, re-reading over a paragraph. "What did you say?"

"I didn't say anything besides asking where you were."

The music and sounds of people mingling muffled on his side of the call, making it a little easier to hear him. "Oh I'm at the house, where are you? Are you almost ready to head over?"

Flipping another page, your focus starts to dwindle from Cole and more into your textbook. "Um, no? I'm at the arena for work."

"What do you mean? Why are you at the arena?" The muffled sound of music doesn't last much longer as it practically erupts through the speaker on your phone. He must have gone back into the pre-game.

You pull the phone away from your ear and check the time. Warm-ups shouldn't be ending for another five minutes, meaning nobody should be coming into the training room or the corridor anytime soon. You pressed the speaker and placed your phone onto the desk. "I'm working tonight, remember?"

"Uh, no? You never told me you were working tonight!" He yelled over the music, saying hi to more people as he traveled through the house no doubt. "You're supposed to be here in like, thirty minutes, Y/N. It's Beta Ball! You said you'd be here."

"Actually, no I didn't," you could feel yourself begin to get annoyed as you heard one of his friends offer him two shots. "I told you that I had to work. I even printed out a schedule and gave it to you, remember?"

The sound of him gulping down two shots echoed over your phone as he sighed in relief. "You didn't give me a damn schedule, Y/N."

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you were telling yourself to cut him some slack since he was obviously in the midst of pre-gaming. But another part of yourself just wanted to tell him you were busy and hang up the phone. Cole could care less about his schoolwork, only frat parties, preparing for his upcoming season and then getting drafted.

"I did give you a schedule, Cole. I gave it to you on Monday," you flipped another page, "which was four days ago."

The music started to muffle again, soon followed by the sound of a door shutting– muffling the music completely. "This party is a huge deal, Y/N. It's one of the biggest parties of the semester and if you're not here I'll look like a total fucking loser. It's the damn formal!"

You couldn't help but snort as his statement. "It's not the biggest party of the year, Cole. You're just drunk."

He must be stumbling around whatever room he's in because you can hear him bumping into things and stuff being thrown on the floor. It was surprising how bad his tolerance was, especially for being in a frat. "You're not even a real fucking trainer, why are you there?"

"It's my internship for my degree, Cole. Some of us care about getting a college education instead of worrying about what to wear to the next sleazy frat party," you chuckled to yourself, shaking your head. "So calm down the roid-rage and enjoy your party of the year."

"Are you fucking coming or are you too busy being a bitch errand-girl for your brother's shitty team?"

"Jesus Christ, Cole it's not even a real ball!" You yell, just as the sound of a door opening and closing echoes around you. "It's literally that stupid party where girls have to wear lingerie and the boys just spend their time ogling over them."

A wave of green rushed into the room, coming to a stop at the table closest to me. They pulled their warm-up jersey over their head before you could even make out who it was. But the moment you saw the fancy script of one familiar Stanley Cup tattoo, you knew who it was. You picked up the phone, taking it off of speaker bringing it back to your ear as he continued to dress down from his gear. "What? Have you contracted an itch from all of the girls you've been seeing?"

Tyler looked over at you and smiled, shaking his head as he kept undressing. "Don't enjoy the show too much."

"Seriously Y/N, it's super fucked up that you're not coming tonight! You owe it to me, I'm your fucking boyfriend!" His slurred voice must have been heard from your phone since Tyler looked over at you again with a raised eyebrow. "If you don't show up, we're done! You can take your shit a-and get lost."

"I need service, please," Tyler said, taking your attention away from the phone call and hopping up onto the table in nothing but his pants and his pads. He was sitting up straight and had his hands in his lap like he was a kindergartner waiting for storytime.

"Sorry Seguin, I don't provide the kind of service you're used to."

He rolled his eyes and kicked up both of his legs, taking off his sicks and shin pads. "Not that kind, the athletic training kind." His eyes moved over to the phone against your ear and then back at you. "Or are you too busy?"

"Is that a guy?" Cole slurred, his loud slurping from his new drink grossing you out. "Y/N, who the fuck are you with?"

The annoyance from the entire phone call was bubbling up until you couldn't take it anymore. "Listen, Cole, I need to go," you looked over at Tyler, setting down and closing your book. "I'm busy."

"Are you at least going to fucking try and come to the party instead of wasting away like an old maid?" You raised your eyebrows at his comment, your inner voice telling you to refrain from snapping at him.

And yet, it was hard not to feel guilty since you knew how important these frat parties were to Cole. You sighed and stood up from the chair. "Maybe after the game, I don't know."

He didn't even bother to reply to your response and instead, just hung up on you. You pulled the phone away from your ear and stared at it to see that he had, in fact, hung up on you. "Rejection hurts, huh?"

You rolled your eyes at Tyler's comment and placed the phone back down onto the desk, then making your way over to him. "Is there any reason why you just performed a half-assed strip show in the training room?"

"Oh no, that's not my strip show," Tyler laughed, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. "You'd know my strip show if you saw it. It leaves the ladies dripping."

"Why? Because they pissed themselves from laughing so hard?"

In true Tyler fashion, he rolled his eyes and stuck his feet up at you. "I need my ankles taped and don't worry, Dave said you could do it."

"A little late there, don't you think?" You asked, walking over to the cupboards that held every material you'd need. "Or is the Tyler Seguins' supposed big brain, not able to support memory?"

"Yeah, well I got distracted by your brother and his fawning over Katie...again."

You laughed, taking the basket with everything that you'd need back over to the table he was sitting on. "Ah, so you've been caught up on the drama?" You grabbed a stool and brought it to the end of the table, resting a knee on it as you nodded for him to scoot back and extend out his leg.

He leaned back on his hands, watching as you began to tape his ankle. "At this point, I think their relationship history could give lifetime at least three new movies."

"Lifetime movies, huh? Didn't take you to be the kind of guy to tune in to those." You focused on going through the appropriate steps, keeping your eyes on his ankle. "Maybe Hallmark, but definitely not Lifetime."

"Wow, you know so little about me, I'm hurt. Besides, their 'sucks to be sixteen' marathons are great." He brought his right knee up as you tapped the finished ankle before moving onto his left. "Let me guess, you love the Hallmark Christmas movies and you've never missed a single one?"

You looked up at him for a few seconds before looking back down and continuing to work on his ankle, not answering his question. He wiggled his foot, causing you to look back up at him. "Seguin, I swear to–"

"Ha! I knew it! You're a total sucker for those cheesy, romance Christmas movies."

"For your information," You meticulously started to wrap his ankle with the pre-wrap. "It's a family tradition, at least between my mom, my sister and me. Dad and the boys wouldn't be caught dead watching those." You paused, smiling for a second. "Unless it's the Candace Cameron-Bure ones. Jamie's a sucker for those."

A comfortable silence settled over as you finished up his ankle. When you tapped it, he sat up and pointed down at the floor. "Can you pick up my socks? I don't want to have to bend down to get them."

"Why, is Mr. 3% body-fat getting, dare I say..." you faked a gasp as you bent down to pick up his socks. "lazy?"

"No," he swung a sock out at you, missing you by a few inches before bending over to put it back on as you walked over and placed some tape down for him to use. "So Cole..."

"Ugh, can we please not talk about him?" You groaned, putting the basket back into the cupboard. "I swear our that phone call gave me a migraine, so I don't need to hear your jokes."

"No, not that." he put on both shin guards before moving on to fixing his socks. "I just...does he always talk to you like that?"

"Like what?"

"Oh I don't know, let me think," He put the tape down next to him before, getting off of the table. "Does, ‘are you fucking coming or are you too busy being a bitch errand-girl for your brother's shitty team?’ sound familiar?"

You stopped in front of the desk, looking at him and feeling your embarrassment start to take over. "Y-You heard that?"

He nodded his head towards the door and reached down for his skates, putting them back on. "So does he? Talk to you like that?"

You realized how cliche it would seem if you told Tyler that it was only when Cole was drunk, that he talked to you that way. But the last six months of your relationship had been a little hostile. Senior year was a pressure on both of you, but Cole seemed to be wearing it far worse than you. "He was drunk, what does it matter?"

"It matters because I have two younger sisters and I know for a fact that if one of their shitty boyfriends talked to them that way, he'd end up in an ER bed." He stood up off of the table and turned to pick up his warm-up jersey.

"Well good thing you're not my brother then, huh?" You joked, expecting him to make a comment back at you.

Instead, he looked a little lost in thought before he shook himself out of it, smiling at you. "Doesn't mean I still wouldn't put frat boy Cole in an ER bed."

You walked around the desk, plopping down into your chair as the murmuring of voices from down the hall echoed from the hallway. "Better get going, don't want to be late for the meeting."

"Yeah, I guess," Tyler tossed his jersey over his shoulder and headed towards the door, stopping in front of it. "Are you going tonight? To that party...with Cole?"

You looked up from your book, caught off guard by his question and the way he said it. For a moment, if you weren't convincing yourself that you were delusional. You'd think that Tyler looked...concerned or maybe even a bit genuinely curious about your nighttime plans.

You shrugged your shoulders, picking the book back up. "I don't know, maybe. There's usually some lingerie contest at this thing and the winner gets a $100 tab to some bar downtown, so maybe if I leave here in time."

You made sure to pay attention to the way he reacted to your response. His features darkened a little bit before he turned away from you walking out of the training room. You returned back to your book, only to be interrupted by someone clearing their throat. When you looked up, you saw Tyler leaning back in, a smile on his face. "Any chance I can get some pics?"

You threw the empty roll of tape on your desk in his direction and he ducked out of the way, laughing all the way down the hallway. "BYE Tyler!" You called out, returning back to your textbook.

As your eyes skimmed the words that your brain failed to absorb, a smile crept onto your face as you looked back up into the empty doorway. "No," you said, shaking your head and closing your eyes, following it with a deep breath. "No, absolutely not. Do not go there."

When you opened your eyes, a small sinking gut feeling took over when you looked into the empty hallway. Part of you wanted Tyler to reappear in the doorway with his goofy grin. But he wasn't there, and neither was his stupid request for lingerie pictures or his...amazingly stupid abs. What bothered you the most though, wasn't the fact that he wasn't standing there...but what he meant by his request.

Did he want lingerie pictures of the other contestants...or of you?

#tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin oneshot #tyler seguin writing #dallas stars imagine #dallas stars oneshot #dallas stars writing #nhl writing #nhl oneshot #nhl imagine #hockey writing #hockey imagine #hockey oneshot #ldyk fic #my writing

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iampikachuhearmeroar · 4 years

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okay so. i probably shouldn’t talk about this considering that i have never experienced it myself.... but whenever i see a story about some hollywood star relapsing into their addiction of/maybe overdosing on whatever drug, there’s always a difference between how people react when it’s a female star (say demi lovato overdosing back in 2018 after a few years of sobriety) and a male star (most currently dax shepard relapsing after 16 years of sobriety).

for example, back in 2018 when demi overdosed on heroin, there was a whole stream of people on the buzzfeed articles, alt press articles and even just the normal news stories about it commenting things like: “demi’s just an attention-seeking bitch like she’s always been. she wanted to be in the headlines and that’s what she got. SHE NEEDS TO CONTROL HER ADDICTION of being an attention whore for the press and also her drug addiction, obviously. but shame on her for relapsing!!!! how lazy is she??? she is NOT TRYING HARD ENOUGH!” or there were also streams of “i have absolutely NO SYMPATHY for this spoilt brat girl doing this for media attention! snooze button on a slow news day. she needs to learn to control herself! the world doesn’t revolve around you and your drug addiction, honey. go back to therapy to get your head out of your ass!” type comments on every article about demi. like woohoo for you, brenda or coleman. here’s your “stupid fucking asshole of the day” award 🥇.

whereas with dax sheppard in the last week (and ok i just read an upworthy article about it on fb just now bc i’m bored) and everyone’s like: “oh how BRAVE of dax for speaking out about his relapsing into his addiction!!!! the poor man! fame must be hard with lockdown!!! what a good hearted man, addiction is hard in general anyway! good for him for speaking out again, i don’t have much else to say.” and the like. in other words, all i’ve read in response to dax’s relapse into his prescription drug addiction is is an outpouring of support. although, then again, it’s probably because i’ve only read one article on it.... or maybe i did read another stream of comments the other day..... but i can’t remember them.

but my point is: why the fuck is the backlash so virulently derogatory and hurtful when it’s a woman relapsing into their addiction or overdosing???? whereas when it’s a dude, everyone’s all chill and supportive and calling him brave for admitting that he’s relapsing???? like if another female celeb said something similar during this time, they’d be hit with the stuff that demi received when overdosing two years ago.

okay yeah, obvs there were people supporting demi back in 2018 saying things like the fake comment i wrote for dax, saying things such as: “addiction is a cycle that’s hard to kick and leave behind. i’ve been there, and most of us will be at some point in our life. but i’d never wish it on anyone. that’s the one thing no one understands about addiction: that relapse can happen for most people. my heart goes out to demi!” or the like. but mostly it was the virulent bullshit attacking her for being weak and being an attention whore and not allowing her any empathy or sympathy bc “shame! shame! shame on her for breaking! how weak she is 🙄! where IS HER self-restraint as a YOUNG W O M A N?? this is why young women don’t know how to control themselves these days!” as if demi, as a young woman in hollywood, is responsible for teaching young girls and women to control themselves. like shut the fuck up doris/henry. that’s YOUR goddamned fucking job as parents/was your job as parents. it is no ones fault but your own if your parenting methods are/were defective enough that you think people solely rely on tv stars to raise kids (much like barney stinson in himym thinking that bob barker from the price is right was his dad growing up). the raising of someone’s child is not some young celeb’s fucking job, unless it’s THEIR OWN FRICKIN KID. for fuck’s sake.

whereas everyone seems supportive and understanding of dax’s admission of relapse and sending him “love and strength is this dire time 😊!” and other overly nice stuff and saying stuff about hai family going through this time as well. all like “oh his family must be struggling to but that’s okay because he’s open about his struggle with everyone! so BRAVE!” etc etc etc. there is no mention so far of him having to “control himself”. or maybe i haven’t read far enough. not that i will, considering i read like one celeb story a month at the very least, so as to not overload myself on bitterness like i did back in my teens with constant access to the E! news/celeb channel.

all i’m saying is that people need to have more sympathy and empathy towards people who struggle with addiction and relapsing, regardless of wether they’re male or female (or obvs trans and non-binary etc as well). like obvs this is coming from someone who has never experienced it herself/themself, but that doesn’t mean that i show no sympathy or empathy for their struggle. and i also so say this regardless of their background, no matter whether they’re rich stars or the poor drug addict on the street.

because i easily could become an alcoholic or whatever else, myself, at any point of my life.... because life can throw any fucking thing at you and out of nowhere..... then suddenly you’re using drugs or alcohol to cope. then you develop an addiction over many years. obviously this is more endemic in hollywood, considering that you can get your hands on literally everything and anything..... if you know the right people etc. and it’s also why i ended up ditching my idea of wanting to be a hollywood star when i was older, back when i was 16. because even when you can have the worlds best therapists and drug rehab facilities at your service/disposal as a hollywood star, that doesn’t exclude you from struggling with drug addiction and relapse or needing sympathy/empathy and support. it’s easy as fuck to fall back into your addiction when you’re unfortunately surrounded by it in hollywood on a frequent basis anyway.

anyway yeah. here’s another rant for october; on a topic i probably shouldn’t rant on lmao.

#life #about me #shut up ilona

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whetstonefires · 5 years

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Sephiroth, 1, 2, 5, 9, 12, 16, 20. I find your take on him so interesting! (And kind of sad too...)

Oh gosh this is so many! Haha okay, here goes.

1.Their physical weak spots

Huh. He’s programmed to be literally impossible to damage in the one actual fight in the Nibel flashback, the dragon. I theorize this might have been his first-level Limit? But of course you can’t use a Limit unless you’ve been injured first. (Apparently they reversed this in the Remake which is a major thematic change and I don’t like it? Anyway tho.)

So on one level his physical untouchability is part of his trademark and there’s a temptation to say ‘none’ and be done with it.

Normal human weak spots, I imagine, he’s not as alien as all that. The throat is the throat, I mean. His disinclination for wearing shirts may suggest an indifference to thoracic damage, but between his tendency to not get hit at all and the existence of healing magic that doesn’t necessarily mean much.

The vertical pupils which can dilate much further than normal would make him particularly vulnerable to flashbangs used in a dark or even dim environment. I assume Wutaian ninjas exploited the heck out of that. :D

2. Their emotional/moral weak spots

Abandonment issues was a big one, I think, and all the huge gaping vulnerabilities created by being a child with no one to love, or who loved you.

Thinking outside of Shinra’s standard pathways is a matter of some anxiety to him, in Crisis Core–his idea of resistance is ‘find my friend first and then oops fail to kill him they can’t prove it was on purpose’ and then later ‘turn down the assignment to find my friend and kill him.’ There’s just, a lot of emotional dependence on a toxic structure indicated by his behavior patterns.

I’m sure that was deliberately instilled, but it’s not that hard. His superpowers aren’t Superman scale self-sufficient until after he ‘dies’ once, and capitalism does what it does. He’s not much less dependent on the Company for survival than the average worker, and more so for identity.

Morally he was disadvantaged by being a corporate supersoldier with Hojo as his parent–the details of his upbringing have never been clarified but they sure didn’t put him anywhere outside Shinra enough for him to form external attachments, or even powerful internal personal ones prior to the rather shaky ones he managed with two peers sometime in adolescence, which leaves fairly few possibilities really.

Anyway morally he’s nothing but weaknesses, even before he got tangled up with The Thing From The Northern Crater and decided he was God and should consume all life. ^^;

5. Guilty pleasures

You know, I don’t think even pre-evil Sephiroth did guilt much? Waste of energy, and (see above) he wasn’t socialized for it, it’s counterproductive in a soldier. The ‘guilt’ in guilty pleasure is really a species of shame though, and anyone with that much pride is vulnerable to the opposite, even if they weren’t exposed to someone like Hojo growing up….

You know, it was probably novels? He was a reader, and one of the most personal things we know about him from the OG is the deep impression left by Hojo’s furious rant about how inappropriate it was to use poetic expressions about magic. Even ‘magic’ was too sentimental for this domineering science twit.

So, every so often growing Sephiroth would get his hands on a piece of fiction, and the quality wasn’t necessarily great because it was whatever he could pick up in the break room or wherever, but he’d hole up out of sight and scarf it down. Even once he had his own living space and salary and could buy whatever books he wanted and store them, he’d pick up novels on the sly and get rid of them once he was done, like someone was going to catch him. One of the things he used to pick out of the ruins in Wutai during the looting was books.

He always felt a confusing mess of jealousy and scorn about Genesis’ Loveless thing. That he could just like it like that, constantly, right out in the open, where anyone could laugh at him. That nobody had ever taken it away.

Less tragically, I think sometimes he’d go home and watch bad TV. Whatever Midgar’s stupidest soap opera was. Sephiroth caught enough of the reruns to know most of the main plots. He had an opinion about who the father of Jaqueline’s baby should have turned out to be. He would never admit this.

9. Humiliating memories

Okay, as touched on above repeatedly, he grew up with Hojo, who loves breaking people down and laughing at them, so he’s probably got a lot of these.

The worst one is one time when he had a weak moment or an optimistic one, and asked out loud in words for something he really, really wanted, and Hojo said yes, and gave Sephiroth just enough time to get desperately excited and express gratitude before laughing at him and saying of course he was lying. Don’t be stupid.

That isn’t something important enough to bother with.

12. Grudges and vendettas

‘Burning inside with violent anger’ isn’t there for no reason. From Nibelheim on these define him, and according to bonus materials of middling canon status he eventually sheds almost all identity elements but his grudges.

I think, based on the shape of his breakdown? That for most of his life he told himself that holding onto anger and pursuing grudges was a waste of time and energy. But that didn’t actually help him let any of it go, he just internalized and ignored things. Because he wasn’t actually not holding grudges, he was just reacting like someone who didn’t have any choices, and marinating in spite.

Spite against Hojo surfaces on the way up to the reactor in a way that says to me it’s a habit, almost a reflex. But it manifests in profound pettiness, and I think that’s the only way he normally felt he was permitted to act out against the people who really bothered him, though I’m also sure he channeled a lot of anger into unrelated killing. Natural thing to do when you’re a frustrated teenager who’s supposed to be killing people anyway.

By the time he did it in Nibelheim, it was an old habit.

The fact that he bothered to personally kill the Shinra President as his big debut says to me he was holding a grudge about his entire life against the person who commissioned him and declared the war and shaped the floating Midgar-world that defined his life. I think there were probably a lot of personal insults in there too, just because of the way Shinra Sr. seems to have conducted himself generally.

He’s a Donald Trump expy wouldn’t you.

Sephiroth is written as a much softer person in Crisis Core, almost absurdly so, but even there you can see him resenting Genesis and Angeal more than a little for abandoning him. It probably brought back his whole mess of feelings about Gast, who really did abandon him quite unforgivably but Sephiroth never knew the full circumstances, just that he was gone and later dead. There are signs he blamed Hojo, who doesn’t seem to have gloated openly about the murder even if he did make sure to inform the boy his favorite person was dead now.

And of course later on there’s Cloud, which doesn’t actually make that much sense until you loop in the retcon about Cloud throwing him into the reactor and cutting short his initial rampage. There’s the grudges he seems to have inherited from Jenova, against the Cetra.

It’s not out of the question that he killed Aerith the way he did in part because she was the thing Gast abandoned him for, as well as all the other less personal reasons. I sort of like to think so.

16. Dark secrets/’skeletons in the closet’

Of his own, as opposed to ‘about him’ that he found out about, I don’t think he really had many? He wasn’t much accustomed to privacy.

I think most of the worst things he did, as a human being rather than a transhuman monstrosity, were pretty unavoidably public; they were war crimes, and happened in front of some fraction of the rest of the army. He was praised for them.

There probably were a lot of dark things he never talked to anyone about, that weren’t really known, but except for outright humiliating childhood incidents like above he wasn’t particularly hiding them. He was just never in a position where it would have made any sense to him to bring them up.

Genesis wasn’t ever someone it was safe to be vulnerable around, and Angeal was uncomfortable with too much emotion, and besides they were fellow soldiers and it wasn’t like the things he didn’t talk about from the war were anything special, and he wasn’t going to complain about his childhood to them. And who else was there?

Dude needed so much therapy.

20. What-ifs/Alternate Timelines

I go absolutely nuts with alternate timelines for Sephiroth. He’s so much fun to work with that way.

Lucretia and Vincent stole the baby and went on the run: Firo grew up kinda isolated in the woods with his parents but runs away at thirteen to fight Shinra because he’s so mad they had to leave Wutai because of the invasion. Parzival AU.

Ifalna recruited Sephiroth to her escape scheme and he wound up raising Aerith on the run, under the names Rith and Roth. Beloved Dust AU, that one’s actually online as you may very well know lol.

Vincent blew up the Nibelheim reactor with Hojo and Jenova in it when Sephiroth was six, and then later Midgar blew up as well and the Shinra world order collapsed, and the recently married Mrs. Strife adopted the weird lab kid. Later on Cloud pressures his big brother into starting an anti-bandit militia. Time Of General Strife AU.

Cute three-way blood brothers ceremony contaminates Genesis’ body with Sephiroth’s DNA and sets off his degeneration several years early, when they’re all teenagers and not nearly as famous, powerful, or fucked in the head. Brother and Brother AU.

And so on. ;}

#ask #ask meme #sephiroth #ffvii #hoc est meum #a nonny mouse #any time tags on asks could come back that would be great #meta #headcanons #backstory #thank you!#hope this suited

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acoolchickouthere13 · 4 years

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July 10, 2019- Amazon prime day concert

July 23, 2019- shares likes with Joe on Instagram, shoots the lover music video, releases the Archer single in the livestream, and gets VMA nominations, does an interview with CBS Sunday morning

First secret session in London Friday August 2nd, 2019

Karlie Kloss turns 27 August 3, 2019

I still believe this was taken during the Australia winter 2016 trip, when Taylor was “26”

August 4th, 2019

Second secret session in Nashville Sunday August 4th, 2019(Over 100 fans were in attendance, apparently, as the event was said to include guests from a Nashville session AND an alleged Rhode Island session. (There are rumors the original Rhode Island session was canceled because the date got leaked))

August 5th, 2019 Nashville

“When we talked seven years ago, everything was going so well for you, and you were very worried that something would go wrong.

Yeah, I kind of knew it would. I felt like I was walking along the sidewalk, knowing eventually the pavement was going to crumble and I was gonna fall through. You can’t keep winning and have people like it. People love “new” so much — they raise you up the flagpole, and you’re waving at the top of the flagpole for a while. And then they’re like, “Wait, this new flag is what we actually love.” They decide something you’re doing is incorrect, that you’re not standing for what you should stand for. You’re a bad example. Then if you keep making music and you survive, and you keep connecting with people, eventually they raise you a little bit up the flagpole again, and then they take you back down, and back up again. And it happens to women more than it happens to men in music.

But you also had good things happen in your life at the same time — that’s part of Reputation.

The moments of my true story on that album are songs like “Delicate,” “New Year’s Day,” “Call It What You Want,” “Dress.” The one-two punch, bait-and-switch of Reputation is that it was actually a love story. It was a love story in amongst chaos. All the weaponized sort of metallic battle anthems were what was going on outside. That was the battle raging on that I could see from the windows, and then there was what was happening inside my world — my newly quiet, cozy world that was happening on my own terms for the first time. . . . It’s weird, because in some of the worst times of my career, and reputation, dare I say, I had some of the most beautiful times — in my quiet life that I chose to have. And I had some of the most incredible memories with the friends I now knew cared about me, even if everyone hated me. The bad stuff was really significant and damaging. But the good stuff will endure. The good lessons — you realize that you can’t just show your life to people….words are my only way of making sense of the world and expressing myself — and now any words I say or write are being twisted against me. People love a hate frenzy. It’s like piranhas. People had so much fun hating me, and they didn’t really need very many reasons to do it. I felt like the situation was pretty hopeless. I wrote a lot of really aggressively bitter poems constantly. I wrote a lot of think pieces that I knew I’d never publish, about what it’s like to feel like you’re in a shame spiral. And I couldn’t figure out how to learn from it. Because I wasn’t sure exactly what I did that was so wrong. That was really hard for me, because I cannot stand it when people can’t take criticism. So I try to self-examine, and even though that’s really hard and hurts a lot sometimes, I really try to understand where people are coming from when they don’t like me. And I completely get why people wouldn’t like me. Because, you know, I’ve had my insecurities say those things — and things 1,000 times worse….But I can’t really respond to someone saying, “You, as a human being, are fake.” And if they say you’re playing the victim, that completely undermines your ability to ever verbalize how you feel unless it’s positive. So, OK, should I just smile all the time and never say anything hurts me? Because that’s really fake. Or should I be real about how I’m feeling and have valid, legitimate responses to things that happened to me in my life? But wait, would that be playing the victim? ...I needed to grow up in many ways. I needed to make boundaries, to figure out what was mine and what was the public’s. That old version of me that shares unfailingly and unblinkingly with a world that is probably not fit to be shared with? I think that’s gone. But it was definitely just, like, a fun moment in the studio with me and Jack [Antonoff] where I wanted to play on the idea of a phone call — because that’s how all of this started, a stupid phone call I shouldn’t have picked up….I don’t think I’ve ever leaned into the old version of myself more creatively than I have on this album, where it’s very, very autobiographical. But also moments of extreme catchiness and moments of extreme personal confession….

But is the idea that as your own life becomes less dramatic, you’ll need to pull ideas from other places?

I don’t feel like that yet. I think I might feel like that possibly when I have a family. If I have a family. [Pauses] I don’t know why I said that! But that’s what I’ve heard from other artists, that they were very protective of their personal life, so they had to draw inspiration from other things. But again, I don’t know why I said that. Because I don’t know how my life is going to go or what I’m going to do. But right now, I feel like it’s easier for me to write than it ever was.

...I’m not scared anymore to say that other things in my career, like how to market an album, are strictly strategic. And I’m sick of women not being able to say that they have strategic business minds — because male artists are allowed to. And so I’m sick and tired of having to pretend like I don’t mastermind my own business. But, it’s a different part of my brain than I use to write. [THIS IS AFTER SHE SAID DBATC WAS INSPIRED BY “SOMEONE GREAT” ON ELLEN]

You’ve been masterminding your business since you were a teenager.

Yeah, but I’ve also tried very hard — and this is one thing I regret — to convince people that I wasn’t the one holding the puppet strings of my marketing existence, or the fact that I sit in a conference room several times a week and come up with these ideas. I felt for a very long time that people don’t want to think of a woman in music who isn’t just a happy, talented accident. We’re all forced to kind of be like, “Aw, shucks, this happened again! We’re still doing well! Aw, that’s so great.” Alex Morgan celebrating scoring a goal at the World Cup and getting shit for it is a perfect example of why we’re not allowed to flaunt or celebrate, or reveal that, like, “Oh, yeah, it was me. I came up with this stuff.” I think it’s really unfair. People love new female artists so much because they’re able to explain that woman’s success. There’s an easy trajectory. Look at the Game of Thrones finale. I specifically really related to Daenerys’ storyline because for me it portrayed that it is a lot easier for a woman to attain power than to maintain it….for me, the times when I felt like I was going insane was when I was trying to maintain my career in the same way that I ascended. It’s easier to get power than to keep it. It’s easier to get acclaim than to keep it. It’s easier to get attention than to keep it….maybe this is a reflection on how we treat women in power, how we are totally going to conspire against them and tear at them until they feel this — this insane shift, where you wonder, like, “What changed?” And I’ve had that happen, like, 60 times in my career where I’m like, “OK, you liked me last year, what changed? I guess I’ll change so I can keep entertaining you guys….the question posed to me is, if you kept trying to do good things, but everyone saw those things in a cynical way and assumed them to be done with bad motivation and bad intent, would you still do good things, even though nothing that you did was looked at as good? And the answer is, yes. Criticism that’s constructive is helpful to my character growth. Baseless criticism is stuff I’ve got to toss out now….I’ve never been to therapy. I talk to my mom a lot, because my mom is the one who’s seen everything. God, it takes so long to download somebody on the last 29 years of my life, and my mom has seen it all. She knows exactly where I’m coming from. And we talk endlessly. There were times when I used to have really, really, really bad days where we would just be on the phone for hours and hours and hours. I’d write something that I wanted to say, and instead of posting it, I’d just read it to her.

the lyric in “Daylight,” the idea of “so many lines that I’ve crossed unforgiven” — it’s a different kind of confession.

I am really glad you liked that line, because that’s something that does bother me, looking back at life and realizing that no matter what, you screw things up. Sometimes there are people that were in your life and they’re not anymore — and there’s nothing you can do about it. You can’t fix it, you can’t change it. I told the fans last night that sometimes on my bad days, I feel like my life is a pile of crap accumulated of only the bad headlines or the bad things that have happened, or the mistakes I’ve made or clichés or rumors or things that people think about me or have thought for the last 15 years. And that was part of the “Look What You Made Me Do” music video, where I had a pile of literal old selves fighting each other. But, yeah, that line is indicative of my anxiety about how in life you can’t get everything right. A lot of times you make the wrong call, make the wrong decision. Say the wrong thing. Hurt people, even if you didn’t mean to. You don’t really know how to fix all of that. When it’s, like, 29 years’ worth. No one gets through it unscathed. No one gets through in one piece. I think that’s a hard thing for a lot of people to grasp. I know it was hard for me, because I kind of grew up thinking, “If I’m nice, and if I try to do the right thing, you know, maybe I can just, like, ace this whole thing.” And it turns out I can’t.

It’s interesting to look at “I Did Something Bad” in this context.

You pointing that out is really interesting because it’s something I’ve had to reconcile within myself in the last couple of years — that sort of “good” complex. Because from the time I was a kid I’d try to be kind, be a good person. Try really hard. But you get walked all over sometimes. And how do you respond to being walked all over? You can’t just sit there and eat your salad and let it happen. “I Did Something Bad” was about doing something that was so against what I would usually do. ...a couple of years ago I started working on actually just responding to my emotions in a quicker fashion. And it’s really helped with stuff. It’s helped so much because sometimes you get in arguments. But conflict in the moment is so much better than combat after the fact.”(x)

Third secret session in LA Tuesday August 6th, 2019

Also does a livestream announcement

August 10 LA Party with YNTCD and ME! Costars #drunktaylor -purple nails

#accohtimeline #taylor swift #taylorswift #ts #taylor #swift #kaylor #accoh timeline #gaylor #gaylor swift

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bonnie-and-cloud · 5 years

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Hi! First off I love your post . And your bunnies are adorbale . Do you have any tips on a person thinking of getting a bunny?

I don't know when this was sent @fulltoadpicklemuffin so sorry if this is late. I've also taken my time to give you a thoughtful, thorough reply

ALSO HEADS UP THAT I'M ON MOBILE WITH NO ACCESS TO A CUT SO I'M SORRY

So I did a full year of research before getting my girls. I was living on a college campus where animals were banned except for goldfish and other small tank animals, emotional support animals, and service animals. I was in an apartment so I had plenty of space for a rabbit or two but we also had a school policy where we could have a surprise inspection at any point in time. We weren't even allowed to have friends who had pets come into our spaces even to pick us up it was so strict. It was pretty strictly enforced too

I also wasn't working because my mother promised me that so long as I focused on my studies, I wouldn't have to get a job. She paid for textbooks, groceries, my phone, medical expenses including meds, and so on. She helped me get a car and did a lot of heavy lifting. Meaning that between that, being disabled, and the school policy it didn't make sense to even sneak a bun

Well, I only needed one class for my last semester meaning I lost campus housing eligibility so I'd have to pay the campus something stupid like two grand a month to stay there. We moved to a temporary apartment and didn't say anything but like they didn't do inspections like campus did so whatever

So that's part of why I did a whole year of research. I made triple sure to know their proper diet, switching foods, and so on. I was very careful about them playing only with Approved Bunny Toys and didn't even have a cage for either of them at first as they were in an 8x8 closet with limited access to roam our room. Between that and my research, I have plenty of advice and it'll be stuff you won't necessarily hear from other people

IT DOESN'T MATTER IF YOU ADOPT FROM A BREEDER, SHOP AT A STORE, OR GET A RESCUE

At the end of the day, a bun got a home that otherwise might not have. And that's more important, to me at least, than other factors. I don't recommend getting a pet store bunno because they are horribly mistreated but you do you. I won't judge either way on that one. I got my girls directly from a reputable breeder

I do recommend different methods for different needs, ability, and whatnot. I had never owned a rabbit before so I had no idea what the baseline for bun behaviors were. I didn't know how destructive they were prone to be had they not been traumatized via abandonment or abuse or whatever. I had no idea the difference between a happy loaf versus a grumpy loaf. I didn't know a happy flop from a passive aggressive one and no amount of reading up on these things or YouTube videos was going to really show me unless I saw them with my own eyes

Not to mention, buns take a long time to get comfortable with you just in general. Bonnie and Cloud took almost two months before they were cool enough with me to cuddle me on my bed. I remember crying thinking they hated me with no idea they were bonding to me very quickly. It would have been even longer with a rescue and I might have sincerely thought I was a bad bun parent and given up on buns entirely

So, for new bun parents, I recommend getting from a reputable breeder two bun siblings of the same gender from the same litter like I did. Not only do you get a better baseline for behavior, you genuinely get to see a lot of things you wouldn't from other bonded pairs. Like these two fight over the same scrap of broccoli when there's a little pile beside them that either of them could choose from. They also play "pranks" on each other like sneaking up on each other, giving surprise boops, and running away. They make WAY more vocalizations than your average rabbit and can easily be mistaken for guinea pigs with their noises. Both in the type of vocalizations but also with how loud they can get. They act very similarly to human siblings

I say reputable breeder for obvious reasons. I contacted a breeder who was willing to promise me 4 week old buns which was a big fat no from me. There was no way they'd be completely weaned let alone emotionally ok with leaving their nest. When he said 4 weeks, I just hard blocked his number. Our breeder gave us ours at 6 or 8 weeks (I forget which) because they were ready. She even texted us saying they were ready to leave their parents earlier than she expected and gave us the option of waiting a couple more weeks to be double sure

So we could tell she knew her stuff and was reputable on top of her sending pictures of her setup and their pedigrees. She sent stuff shows care about too so it wasn't just x parent or whatever like she had genotypes back to their great grandparents which she herself had raised and had pedigrees for. We went ahead and got them early because I was so eager to meet them

My spouses and I have discussed adding two more to the mix but we're going to wait a bit. We're going to look into guinea pigs first and then if we still want two more bunnos, we'll cross that bridge when we get there. But, we'll almost definitely get from a reputable breeder again

As I've had my hip replaced, I can only handle creatures up to a certain weight. After my surgery, our roommate's cat jumped on my leg and opened my surgery wound. I won't get too graphic with it but it opened clear to my metal replacement and she wasn't even that large of a breed. Well, as far as my experience goes, the smallest buns get homes first because they're "cuter" due to their size. Holland lops go especially quickly because of how sweet and friendly they are. And I have needs

There are plenty of other bun parents who get all "well having a creature is a privilege not a right" about this and insist I shouldn't have a bun if I'm going to a breeder. These people can eat me. I have depression and meds and therapy only get you so far. Without these guys, I'd only leave my bed to use the bathroom or run errands. I know because that's where I was prior to them. I also can't have children so I need something to pour my love into or I'll hurt myself. I know that sounds weird or whatever but I shouldn't have to tell other bun owners, or anyone really, "without tiny fur children to love, cherish, protect, and provide for, I'll definitely kill myself" because like. None of their business

Not to mention, there's the question of bonding buns which takes time and a lot of effort. So even if we could get a couple rescue small buns, would they bond to the kids we have already. Rinse and repeat. Only one of us can drive so it's not like we have that much time available to bond either. It's faster, less stressful, and less time consuming for everybody involved to just adopt two babies from a reputable breeder

I say all my reasons why not to be all "breeder all the way!" because that's not where I'm coming from. I'm trying to illustrate why that might be a better option. Someone else may have to drive several hours out of the way to adopt and there is a perfectly good and cute bunno in need of a loving, happy home at a pet shop a street away. Whatever the case, so long as buns that exist get proper homes, I don't care. It's more important to me that buns aren't mistreated

ALL THAT SAID, time to move onto some quicker advice

Get a cage for each of your buns. We got those big ones that go for like 120 a piece or whatever at Petsmart. The big open trays with the wire sides and the side door. This gives them a comfy place to flop so they can nap in whatever hay you put. This will also keep them confined after they get fixed so you're not worrying about an expen or whatever else

THIS SHOULD NOT BE THEIR PRIMARY HOUSING. Now I understand if you can't free roam your buns. Not everyone has the space or living conditions. Frankly, we would put them in separate cages before bed, and release them when we woke up so they were in there 8ish hours. Mostly it was so they got some rest but also to keep them out of mischief while we slept. They turned into more of very large litter boxes over time and have only really functioned as cages post spay or when one (usually Cloud) was being destructive or bitchy and redirection and distraction weren't working so she needed a time out to calm down

Now that we've moved into half of a duplex with three whole separate rooms, an enormous front room, and so on, they're just very large litterboxes/hangout spaces. One will eventually be downstairs so they can be close to us while we do things and the other will be in our bedroom so they're shut with us at night. This is so they spend more time roaming during the day and don't get fat from being lazy babies

Now I won't Totally judge if anyone has an outdoor hutch so long as it's plenty of room and bunnos come in during extreme weather. It's not the safest but like I get it

GI stasis is going to happen. Don't freak out. Yes, it CAN kill bunnies but only if you're not doing what you should. We give ours 80% hay/wood sorrel/grass, 10ish greens/salad, 10ish pellets with a bit of wiggle room for treats. The wood sorrel (commonly called clover across the US) and grass are rare treats but they eat enough to basically replace their hay when they get it. Occasional treats are I'm eating strawberries and they get the tops or the ends of carrots when we're cooking dinner. Sometimes they get Legit pet store treats but these are rare

We see GI signs most often when they're shedding and it's because they're ingesting fur so their poop does the connected string thingy that's the first sign of GI stasis. We also have seen it every time after a move because they've been too stressed to eat enough hay so we up their pellets and greens during that time to compensate. The only other times were when we switched them from alfalfa as babies to Timothy as adults and when they were fixed

A good way to combat this is a product the Hook's Holland Lops lady recommends on her channel. They're digestive tablets made with papaya, ginger, pineapple, peppercorns, banana, and so on. It's all organic and one tablet contains a MINIMUM of 2% crude protein, 15% crude fiber, 0.5% crude fat. A tablet contains a MAXIMUM of 4% moisture, and 0.2 grams of fruit sugar. For mild cases, one tablet every day until they're in the clear is just fine but for a severe case, use one tablet per pound of bun body weight. This should be broken up from one feeding to throughout the day though so it doesn't screw up their systems

How I do it is twice a day because my babies are so small at 4ish lbs and 6ish lbs. They're actually 3.5 and 5.5 but it's easier to just say 4 and 6. I'll give Cloud 2 in the morning and 2 in the evening, and Bonnie 3 at both times. I've only had to do that after their spay. The worst their GI symptoms have ever been, they each needed one tablet twice a day. Now, if either were, say, 12 pounds. I'd split that into 3 tablets 4 times a day or 2 tablets 6 times a day

This has kept them from needing an emergency vet thus far. They've never had hard guts and their weird poops haven't ever lasted too terribly long either. Just keep an eye on how much they're drinking, how much hay they're eating, and so on

Bunnies shed WAAAAY more than you think and nobody can possibly prepare you for it. Literally, every time I go to comb or pluck or otherwise groom either of them, I end up with a pile of fur that is at LEAST as large as they are if not twice or three times as big. And I still have to groom their sides like I've only just cleared their backs

They shed so much that the poor babies were having sneezing fits. We checked their noses and no snuffles. So you'll need to vaccuum to try and keep that down. But like they will leave it on you worse than cats and they shed twice a year, roughly each spring and fall

LISTEN to your buns. Are they abnormally skittish around your new roommate? Keep an eye on that person the same way you would if your dog or cat were abnormally skittish. I promise you they aren't a good person. At the very least, they aren't very good for you and you shouldn't trust them around your buns. They don't want your new partner to pet them? Run the other way. Or at least remember it. My babies have let me know ahead of time when someone or some place is bad news

Not just this, they'll let you know when they're not happy. Whether that's their hay, their bedding, if the carpet feels weird. Listen to them. You'll be around after them but they only have you so make them as happy as you can

Bunnies are deceptively stupid. Now, I know some bun parents who are like "how dare you insult such majestic creatures" when like I ASSURE you, Karen, that Oreo there has nothing going on in his head beside "mmmm monch" when he sees your baseboards. Like they're definitely smarter when fixed because hormones aren't flooding their tiny brains but they're still super dumb and governed by instincts

That isn't to say they have absolutely nothing going on upstairs because that's a lie. They are smart enough to recognize routines and wake you up for stuff, bother you if something is upsetting them. They're about as intelligent as toddlers? If that makes any sense. Like toddlers aren't geniuses by any stretch of the imagination, they're still smart. Like they're tiny little dumbasses ruled by "am hunger so must eat" and so on. So if you act like you've got tiny toddlers with soft fur then you're pretty gold

Also, they like to watch TV. Cloud likes MLP and other animal cartoons like Looney Toons. Bonnie likes dramatic stuff with explosions and her favorite thing is YGO. So like :/ toddlers :/

Bunnies are more expensive than you think but they don't have to break the bank. Bunnies are the most expensive pet I've ever had but I've also only ever had dogs and roommates with cats. Hay can be pretty expensive, plus salad, treats, and that's just food. You also have to take into consideration litter boxes, damage costs, and so on

To cut down on hay, we buy a 75 lbs bale from Tractor Supply for about $15 that lasts quite a few months. Depending on how we use it, it can go as quickly as 3 months because they pee on it (which means mold flakes) or as long as over 6 if rationed appropriately in old pet shop hay bags. Then, we buy fresh stuff in season and take advantage of sales and coupons. Sometimes, we don't give a salad if finances are tight enough but they will always get hay and pellets. We also buy pellets in bulk for cheaper and bought a Brita pitcher for like 20 bucks or so so they get filtered water no matter how hard the water is for much cheaper than water bottles

Get a portable pen for hay like the one here. It helps contain mess a LOT. Like hay is gonna get everywhere, obviously, but if you do the bale like we do, it's super helpful and keeps the mess pretty well contained. On that note, I highly recommend a shop vac which the type of vaccuum wood shops, car repair places, and construction sites tend to use. I just linked an example so you know what you're looking for but get a hose that's at least 1.5 inches in diameter. Ours is close to 2 inches but you need the wide diameter so you can vacuum fur and hay without creating clog issues like a regular vaccuum. Capacity doesn't matter so much as hose size and ours cost us something like $60

Your buns will inevitably eat something they shouldn't. Depending on what it is and how much, your reaction should change. Your bun nosed their way into the trash and got the little chip crumbs at the bottom of a snack bag? Eh they'll be fine. If it's something that's dangerous like plastic or a poisonous food then you should contact your emergency vet. But Cloud has ABSOLUTELY snatched chips and bits of coke from a straw or two and we always have to fight her to stay away from our chips. I have a friend who has a bun who assaults her for pancakes. Like it's fine

Even after you have buns, keep researching. When it was stupid hot and I was worried, I looked up what to do to help keep them cool. When I was worried how much Bonnie was shedding, I asked my discord group. When I'm not sure about a food, I hit up Google

And I think that's it? At least that's all off the top of my head of stuff I wish I'd known going in regarding buns that I didn't see anyone else talking about. Feel free to hit me up with more specific questions!

#mod vann #asks #ask post #vannswers #bunnies #advice #bunny advice #links #long post #text heavy #suicide mention

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softgrungeprophet · 5 years

Text

it’s that time again. time for me to be annoyed/frustrated at the comics that came in the 20-teens that simultaneously responded directly to the 2000s, followed in the 2000s’ continuation, but completely glossed over and ignored the very serious topics that were brought up. and then we get the fucking 2018 run which does NEITHER and just seeks to make it worse for shock value without being even remotely thoughtful about anything it does! wow.

we could have had some really interesting growth for eddie and the symbiote’s relationship by honestly addressing things like eddie’s illness, hypocrisy as anti-venom, his status as a victim of abuse, and so on...

of course i know if i say “eddie is a victim” people will get hissy but like.... i’m not saying he’s an innocent blameless baby who was manipulated into being the weirdo he is... i’m just saying... he’s a victim of abuse. he’s been taken advantage of a lot. almost any help he’s received has required some kind of reciprocation.

he’s a shithead and he went off the deep-end after new ways to die because remender’s version of eddie fucking sucks, he’s smug and weird and violent, and also he’s been neglected and tortured and abused and experimented on and he needs therapy and blah blah blah

he’s also not some fuckin accidental drunk driver who was hit into thinking he’s innocent. that’s so fucking--jeez. everything about these retcons donny has been doing miss the point even more than the comics he says he loves so much. it’s wild. like i don’t like new ways to die OR new ways to live, remender’s run was okay but i hated the way he wrote eddie, marvel knights spider-man just sucks in general, the hunger 03 also sucks, but like they do feed into each other in a way that.... sort of makes sense....

i just wish there was a way any of the comics would have said, “hey look there are some ways in which eddie is a victim but there are also some ways in which he needs to take responsibility for his actions”

but that kind of nuanced take is impossible for the way these comics are put out and canceled and retconned and so on forever.. it’s so ... ugh.....

the hunger 03 sucks... it also influenced over a decades’ worth of Venom comics including costa’s in its own weird way.... and i just wish we could simultaneously be like, Yes the symbiote is not inherently evil or corrupting but Also it did abuse Eddie, and Yes Eddie has been treated poorly for a great deal of his life and Also is a motherfucker who needs to be held responsible for his actions.

Is this hypocritical to be like, “can we address the 2000s” while also saying “2018 run is not valid”

in my defense even the shitty 2000s were like a continuity and didn’t try to fully retcon every single aspect of venom lore that ever existed (tho it sure did plenty of retconning....) whereas the current run... is doing exactly that....

of course this goddamn run will probably also influence the following comics unless the next writers retcon the retcons or like, ignore it and it gets put into its own earth or something. idk. like no one really counts dark origin right? and that works cause it also had a negligible influence on the rest of the comics. but like, the bad hunger had a very lasting impact on the comics. so i guess we just hope that donny cates, despite currently selling super well, does not actually influence any of the comics that come after?

i don’t fuckin know. i just think it kind of sucks that like “eddie was abused” is something that gets used as either a “lol no that never happened and if you talk about it you hate the symbiote” or else an excuse to demonize the symbiote even after its own character growth arcs in the apparently supremely unpopular gotg and space knight stuff... lol

maybe if every fucking series from 2013 to 2016 (minus costa which is honestly more 2017) didn’t get canned we could have gotten more. like honestly, 2016′s Carnage--for all its flaws--seemed like it had something to say about Eddie as a character, about his flaws and so on, and I gotta wonder where that was going. It flat out says “Venom didn’t make Eddie Brock a bastard” so like? But then at the same time all of the symbiotes in that series were completely silent so? I don’t even know.

Cullen Bunn was clearly going somewhere too but I have no idea where other than “symbiote is alive but has trouble communicating” and “eddie is coming down from his murder spree as he realizes flash thompson is in fact helping people as agent venom”

the two fit together in a very strangely complementary way. sometimes i gotta wonder about a universe in which those two comics in particular ran concurrently to address venom, flash, toxin, and eddie’s many issues. but toxin’s probably gone... though in my heart they are with jubulile and her mom in south africa, learning what it’s like to be part of a loving family...

man. the resigned “Okay.” at the end of twav...... twav good imo.

anyway

i don’t even know what the point of this is. i’m all over the place in this post. it’s frustrating that donny has made it kinda impossible to bring up eddie’s victimhood without like... qualifying it to the ends of the earth to clarify that you don’t think he’s some kind of pure cinnamon roll who’s been dreadfully manipulated for 12 years....

I feel like I’m not making any sense!!! Words are hard.

I feel like I’ve kinda been avoiding writing about the symbiote though in part because it’s hard for me to balance that many characters and in part because of Donny’s stupid bullshit, which is dumb as fuck but I guess that’s what he wanted huh!!!! Need to read Lethal Protector to cleanse my palate but it’s taking forever to get it from the library because they only have one copy.

ugh

The symbiote is not an evil creature like he wants everyone to think... goddammit.... but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t carefully address both its and Eddie’s mistakes without fabricating new different mistakes to obscure the previous ones. Or whatever. Fuckin I don’t know lol the entirety of the continuity is just a bunch of bullshit. 80s-90s continuity largely separate from 2000-20...15ish continuity largely separate AGAIN from the 2016 continuity yet also directly tied to it, against completely separated from the 2018 continuity which is off saying “fuck you” to literally every venom writer to ever exist since Eddie’s conception, ironically including the guy who wrote the cursed hunger

What am I trying to say! I don’t know! i feel like a broken record. There’s a lot of empty space between Agent Venom and 2016 that was never filled! also between 2016 and 2018 lmfao.

Donny “everything went wrong and I’m not going to explain how other than ‘God’ and ‘Eddie lost his job cause screaming symbiote’“ Cates really pullin some shit. what do you mean eddie tends to work toward solving his own problems EVEN WHILE DYING. waid’s mini-story in NWTD showed that eddie, despite being sad and sick and exhausted was still like.... eddie, stubbornly searching out his own solutions and getting angry. ofc i’m not sure how well it succeeded at parts. the comics in those days were still pretty steeped in the weird symbiote hallucinations that it was never clear if they were meant to be caused by the symbiote or just eddie’s sick brain. like the Last Temptation. I have a love-hate relationship with those two issues... I think they’re pretty well-done but also something about them just rubs me the wrong way.

Anyway back to Cates: it’s not like there wasn’t space for a spiral after FH or anything. You could have really dug into Eddie and the symbiote’s insecurities wrt family and parenting. but nah. let’s just make it so there’s a SECRET CHILD, and oh the pre-established sibling? we could have dug into her and made her a real character. but no, she doesn’t exist, women are either fake or dead or violated.

asshole.

but again like..... the 03 hunger, cursed and bad... like... it’s still workable. you can work with the corrupting forces, the addiction metaphor (on the SYMBIOTE’S part, with adrenaline) and the intense codependency, and still have them move on and into a healthier-by-comparison relationship.

but cates’ run is like... much harder to recover from if it has as lasting of an effect, because it leaves no part untouched, and goes beyond “normal” abuse into really weird unforgiveable territory... like the canon of that comic is the canon in which everything has been completely changed into something unrecognizable.

i joke about my AUs being unrecognizable because, visually at least, they WOULD be unrecognizable for most Venom fans, but the comics inform them as characters a lot in the stories i write in those AUs, from the 96 good hunger, to the 03 bad hunger, to space knight to venom inc, and so on. But donny cates really is out here essentially reverse-engineering retcons to justify his characterizations.

barely related: the way eddie was raised and the way he coped by overachieving and so on and so forth makes me think he would have--despite presumably gaining a great deal of confidence in college once out of his father’s home--been really vulnerable to being taken advantage of by like, other students or teachers, but idk how exactly to articulate what i mean like... uh... not even that he WAS taken advantage of but that his need for validation would have left him open to it... i guess??

that’s got pretty much nothing to do with this post though but kinda ties into what i’ve said before about how i think eddie was a withdrawn and isolated adolescent who only opened up in college. why i disagree with donny’s retcon for that reason in addition to other reasons--the way he’d been shown to be bullied as a kid in previous comics, as well as the lack of history of alcoholism, the clarification in lethal protector that carl wasn’t physical, so on and so forth.

again that’s not related to this post really... and it’s like, a good 50% headcanon, but it makes sense in my head as something that fits his history?? i guess?

#nadia reads venom #this is way too fuckin long what am i even talking about anymore i don't know #long post #this is basically half of what i think about 24/7 #sometimes u just gotta barf out a bunch of words #to organize your thoughts #now... did i succeed in organizing my thoughts? never.

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concussed-to-pieces · 7 years

Text

Comfort

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Ambrose/Omega!Female Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: How about a Thirst Party Saturday...Wednesday pick-me-up? I was thinking an Office!AU, with that sweet, sweet Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamic we all know and love. Tagging @toxiicpop, @oraclegazes and of course, the campaigner for all things LaBraun, @hardcorewwetrash!

Enjoy!

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains threats of rape, musings on consent and general manhandling. Stay safe everyone!]

You knew that you probably should have stayed home today.

Suppressants were expensive and you had the sneaking suspicion that your script had been cut to begin with. You hadn’t felt right for months. But your doctor always dismissed your concerns as Omega paranoia and you didn’t want to make your visits any more difficult, so you just put your head down and accepted the reports without complaint.

You were very lucky after all, you had to remind yourself. Getting hired into an office setting while being an Omega was no easy task, but you’d managed to pick up some runner work that would get your foot in the door over at King’s Game Enterprises. It was only small things for the moment and you’d had to sign a waiver before you started stating that you would keep up with your dosages or face immediate termination, so you couldn’t exactly afford to have your prescription cut with sugar pills. But you had this unshakable feeling of restlessness while making your morning commute. You were tense and tight, as though you were about to jump out of your skin at any given second.

In a burst of desperation, you decided to be honest with your boss about your situation. There was an off chance that maybe, he might understand and send you home early. His wife was an Omega and he treated her like an equal.

Maybe it’ll be okay.

You gathered up their coffee orders and a few files from Alicia, then squared your shoulders and headed for Hunter’s office. Please don’t fire me, you begged mentally. Please please please.

You heard the office door click open before you were halfway down the hall and Stephanie poked her head out. “Alright, move it.” She said, not unkindly. “Smelled you a mile away.” Your heart sank. They know. She at least waited until she’d closed the office door behind you before she started in on you. “Did you not understand the paperwork you signed? Because I can find someone to explain it to you. In perfect detail.”

You bowed your head meekly and pressed her coffee into her hands. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t exactly the equivalent of coming in with a sore throat, but I don’t have any sick days saved up yet. I didn’t know what else to do, ma’am, I need this job so much.” You kept your eyes on the floor, blinking back tears. “I wanted to ask if…if maybe Mr. Hunter could send me home. Or even you, if you have that authority. I know it’s dangerous for me to be out and about like this, I swear I didn’t skip a dose. I-I take my meds, always, but I don’t feel right today and I don’t want to cause any problems.”

“I’ll get Hunter in here. You sit down.” Stephanie clicked her tongue. “Your script get swapped? Did they put you on the generic?”

“My doctor doesn’t give me my scripts, he calls them in himself. He says it’s too dangerous to have an Omega walking around with an unfilled script.” A tear slipped out and you quickly wiped it away, irritated with yourself. Stupid suppressants!

There was a loud knock on the office door and then it was shoved open, the person on the other side not even waiting for acknowledgment. “Heya’ boss one, is boss two he…” The person, a man with a mop of unruly sandy-blond hair, ground to a halt. His nose twitched.

“Perfect timing Ambrose, as ever. Hunter already call you?”

“Y…yeah.” Ambrose said slowly. He shook himself all over. “Whew, sorry. I’m back.”

“Wonderful, I’m so glad Seth is teaching you to be prompt.” Stephanie turned back to you, gesturing at Ambrose. “Dean is one of our Omega therapy Alphas. It’s a new program that some of the higher-ups initiated for the safety and comfort of people like you and me.”

“Basically we’re here to keep you okay.” Dean explained simply. He radiated calm Alpha scent, the new fragrance washing away your terror at being fired.

“We?” You asked in confusion.

Another knock sounded on the door and Ambrose moved to open it, revealing two more men. The Alpha smell, which was heady enough in the room from Dean alone, instantly thickened. Your stomach filled with warmth and you gasped for breath, dimly aware that Stephanie was saying something. Seth. Roman.

Mr. Hunter’s hand was suddenly tilting your chin up. “You still in there, kid?” Hunter Helmsley was the epitome of mated Alpha, broad-shouldered and confident in his own skin. You could see why Stephanie adored him.

You barely had the mental capacity to shake your head. “I don’t feel well, sir.” Your voice was a trembling whisper.

“It’s alright. That’s why our boys are here. Can you make it to lunch time? Two hours.” Hunter glanced at the clock. “Then, it’s only half a shift missed instead of a full one.”

Two hours. Two hours. You nodded dumbly. You could do whatever this Alpha asked. You were a good Omega.

Hunter chuckled. “Alright. The boys are going to escort you to our Omega office, okay? Scent-dampening walls like mine. We need to keep you under wraps until this calms down. You may want to talk with your physician as well, figure out what he gave you.”

“Not the right amount. He won’t listen to me.” You breathed.

“He’ll listen to Dean.” That was one of the other Alphas, but was it Roman or Seth? Seth or Roman?

“Our Alpha partner program can also accompany you to appointments, if necessary.” Hunter added gently. “They’re here to make things easier.”

The idea of having a strong, secure Alpha with you in the doctor’s office made your chest ache with longing. You whined without meaning to, blushing and covering your mouth. “Sorry, I just…”

“Don’t apologize, Omega. We understand.” Seth (or was it Roman?) took your hand, sending tingles through to your fingertips. “C’mon, before everyone in the building is banging on Hunter’s door.”

Roman (or was it Seth?) opened the door for you, making you flush even hotter than before. Normally only mates were offered the courtesy of having a door held for them. Dean came up on the other side of you, the two Alphas flanking you in the hallway while the third brought up the rear.

You finally got up the courage to whisper, “Are you Seth or Roman?” to the dark-haired man at your side.

“He’s Seth, I’m Roman.” The young man behind you answered, making you glance over your shoulder to look at him. He gave you a small smile, as though he was doing his best to soften his hard features. “Roman Reigns, Alpha at your service.”

“Um, no offense to any of you but…why were you guys picked for this?” You asked awkwardly.

“Even temperament, mostly.” Roman replied, shrugging.

“I don’t get nuts around Omegas. Hormone imbalances.” Dean said shortly.

“And I’m too smart to lose my cool.” Seth added smugly. “We aren’t like those other Alphas, butting heads over a piece of ass.”

“Rollins.” Roman’s tone held a sharp note of warning.

“Sorry, sorry. Not to imply that you’re a piece of ass or anything.” Seth apologized hastily. “You’re an Omega, and an Omega that doesn’t want to sit at home and do nothing! Pretty rare.”

“Sitting around is only good until the bills need to be paid.” You commented dryly. “Wait, how am I supposed to do my job if I have to-”

“Ambrose is going to be with you when you’re running errands, okay?” Seth murmured, raking a hand through his hair. “It’s not ideal, I know, the space in here is kinda’ tight. But if something happens while you’re in our care, Hunter will eat us alive.”

Dean opened the door to the Omega office and stepped in, gesturing for you to follow. “C’mon, let’s sit you down for a minute. How you feeling? Doing okay?” He asked kindly, touching your forehead with the back of his hand. “You don’t feel fevery.”

“I’m just nervous, mostly. Restless. Like it’s hard to breathe. I mean, it’s not actually hard to breathe, but like how you feel when it is?” You fumbled to explain. “Chest is kind of tight.”

Roman had pulled a small notebook out of his back pocket, the well-built Alpha turning to a fresh page before clicking his pen. “Can I get the name of your primary care physician, and a rough estimate of how long he’s been cutting your medication? Mr. Helmsley will need it for your file.”

“Oh, b-but I have no proof-”

“Your body is out of sync. Unless Hunter--er, I mean, Mr. Helmsley, has put you under a significant amount of stress, there’s no logical reason for you to be feeling like your lungs are too small.” Seth raised an eyebrow. “I doubt you have anything going on outside of work that could contribute to the level of discomfort you’re dealing with. Shortness of breath is a pretty common complaint in Omegas once their meds are switched.”

“According to my primary, every complaint is a common complaint for someone like me.” The statement came out more bitter than you intended and you grimaced. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, this is good information to have. With your consent, Dean will accompany you on your next appointment.” Roman continued to write for a moment, before clearing his throat. “Ah, when is your next appointment?”

“I had made an emergency one for tomorrow, a cancellation happened and I picked up the slot. Waste of a day off, but I was really hoping to talk some sense into the doctor.” You said weakly. “Or at least try. It’s...hard. He has me strip down and put on the examination gown before he’ll speak to me and I just…I mean it’s a vulnerable situation for someone like me and I don’t really have anyone to come with me.” You were so relieved that someone might be taking you seriously, the words just came pouring out. “I know he doesn’t like Omegas so I just try to make everything simple but now I’m sick or confused and I’m scared, what if there’s something really wrong with me?”

“Easy, easy. Look, I’m gonna’ go grab you a soda from the break room stash. We’ll get some sugar into you, perk you back up. Like Mr. Helmsley said, if you can duke it out for two hours you’re in better shape.” Dean reminded you, heading for the door. “Everything’s gonna’ be just fine. I can come with you tomorrow, I don’t have any prior assignments.”

Of course, as soon as the words were out of his mouth the door flew open and half the contents of the IT department poured into the office. Drew, Tony and Perkins led by one Brian Kendrick who shouted, “There! I told you I smelled heat in the hallway!” pointing an accusing finger at you. You were frozen with fear. The small room was packed with Alphas and Betas now, crowding in on you from all sides. The air was thick with different smells and the snap of hungry teeth and this is why you can’t have a job this is why you need to stay at home-

“Ambrose!” Seth yelled over the hubbub. It must have been something they had rehearsed, because you were suddenly pulled tight to Dean's chest.

“Face into my collarbone, breathe in. Breathe out. Don't look at them, focus on me.” Ambrose said calmly. There was the sound of a solid impact behind you and Kendrick abruptly stopped hollering.

“You're all really gonna' let this yappy son of a bitch rile you up into acting like a bunch of animals?” Roman asked, his voice low and irritated. “Get out. All of you! Out!”

You whimpered and Dean cupped the back of your head, humming comfortingly. “It's alright. He's a friend. You're safe with me.” He soothed. “We're on your side. Nothin' is gonna' happen to you while I’m here.”

“I'm going to talk to Kalisto and Mustafa. This is some bullshit.” Rollins grunted angrily. “Jesus Christ, that was a fucking nerd mob.”

“Are you alright?” Roman asked, sounding concerned. A large hand covered Ambrose’s on the back of your neck and you relaxed a little into Dean. “Go talk with the smart ones, Seth. We’ll stay put with them until you get back.”

“My legs are going to give out in a second.” You warned thickly.

“Grab the chair, Reigns.” Dean ordered. You closed your eyes, the sound of your swallow loud in your ears. “I’ve got you. Focus on my voice, calm that breathing down so you’re getting enough air.” Ambrose coached, settling you into the chair.

Roman’s hands rested on your shoulders, keeping you upright in the seat. Ambrose shifted in between your thighs, the comfort you felt at his presence a little startling. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you while one of us is here.” Roman said firmly.

“Promise?” You whispered, opening your eyes.

Dean stared back at you until you glanced away, unnerved by the intensity of his look. “Promise.” He replied softly.

…

“Clothes stay on. No, fuck you, their clothes stay on. You’re not bullying them anymore, got it asshole?” Dean rasped, looking like he was inches from pinning your doctor to the wall. “I’m here with them. Now do your damn job and explain what’s happening.”

You hadn’t taken two steps into the examination room before your primary care physician had gestured at the gown on the table and barked at you like he always did. But Ambrose didn’t take kindly to that, the light-haired man glaring holes through the old Alpha doctor. “You can’t threaten me in my own practice!” The older man sputtered.

“They have the right to be treated with fucking dignity, not like they’re an inconvenience. Shit, they’re sick and scared and you’re over here playing high and mighty!” Dean snapped. “What’s the story, huh doc? What’s your issue?”

“Omegas are breeding machines with hysterical, hypochondriac tendencies. My issue is that I’m having my time wasted.” The doctor answered primly.

“This is an Omega who’s got shortness of breath and their heats are getting worse even though they’re taking their suppressants. You’re the one writing their scripts; you’re the one who switched them to a generic without asking them first and then, you cut their doses in half!” Ambrose was fairly roaring at this point. “Feeding them some bullshit story about how they couldn’t take their own script to a fucking pharmacy! ‘Course they can, most Omegas do!”

“I’m not going to stand here and be accused of-”

“Accusing you? Buddy I haven’t even shown you my evidence. I’m flat-out condemning your ass. I have invoices. Faxes. Pages and pages of scripts with your name all over them. I suggest you fucking play ball with my Omega, or King’s Game is gonna’ raze your little pop-up clinic and turn it into a fuckin’ penny candy store.” Dean bared his teeth. “You feel me yet, doc?”

“I…” Your doctor paused, looking like he’d had the rug yanked out from beneath him. “Listen, this is standard procedure for Omega-exclusive practices, I can’t just-”

“You’re diggin’ a pretty deep hole for yourself, doc. You tryin’ to tell me that there’s more guys like you out there, purposely fucking up people’s lives?” Dean snarled.

“It’s the way things are.” Your doctor replied with a weary air. “We need to perpetuate our species one way or another. I don’t expect you to understand, you don’t smell quite right yourself.”

“You’d better watch that nose around me, doc. I’ll bite it off.”

“Aside from your own issues,” Your doctor continued, looking much more pale, “I can’t just up their dosage on a whim, this-”

“Hey, you’re not talking to me. Talk to them. This is their health at stake.” Dean growled.

“Fine.” Your doctor turned toward you with a huff, still not meeting your eyes. “It will take weeks for the suppressants to regain their previous effectiveness. A gradual increase is the only way to straighten you out. If, of course, this is all true.” The doctor didn’t seem to be able to help tacking on the snide remark at the end.

Dean was all over him like a bad suit, fists digging into the older man’s white jacket. “You keep this attitude up and I’ll bite your nose off for free.” He threatened. “This is your last warning to cut the shit. Write them the correct script or so help me God, my people will call your people.”

You just sat there wide-eyed, barely believing what you were watching. Dean was going to bat for you like you were his, radiating scents of fury and Alpha. Your body lit up with excitement and you barely kept yourself from begging Ambrose to mate you until you couldn’t remember your own name. Your face flushed. Where had that desire come from?! You had never been that forward before!

Ambrose kept up the rumbling threat of a snarl in his chest while your doctor printed off some new paperwork, the younger Alpha quickly yanking it out of the older man’s hands and then passing it to you. “Let’s get you taken care of, okay?” Dean murmured, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to steer you out of the examination room. “I know a guy, Doc Swagger. I’ll give you his number for when this script runs out.”

“Wow.” You breathed.

“Too much? I wanted him to take you seriously. I wasn’t sure whether ‘upset mate’ would work, so I went with ‘upset bad cop’.” Dean sounded worried. “Did I overstep?”

“Oh no, gosh. I’m just…a little hot is all.” You admitted, flushing.

“A little h…oh. Oh.” Ambrose paused, then gave you a grin. “Yeah? You think maybe you like when I get tough?”

“No! I do not!” You protested frantically, watching his grin widen. “I’ve never had anyone defend me like that is all and I don’t…I mean I’m not…look, I don’t want to offend you.”

“Offend…?” Ambrose raised an eyebrow, obviously confused. “I think you’ll have to try harder than that.”

“Well because I’m an Omega. And…and I can’t control myself as well as I should.” Your flush was from shame now. “It’s not fair to you that you have to deal with me all…messy like this and probably smelling like a...I-I don’t mean to be this way. It’ll be so much easier once my medication is evened back out.” This was so embarrassing. You had never felt smaller in your whole life. “I really don’t mean to be this way, I know what you must think of me.”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with how you smell.” Dean finally murmured after a minute of silence, his back ramrod straight and that teasing smile gone from his face.

…

Hunter assigned Dean to you permanently when he saw how well the two of you were getting on. He mostly just seemed pleased that the program was a success and that you could get your work done with minimal interruptions.

There were no more outbursts from the IT department, and if anyone so much as twitched their nose at you it seemed like Ambrose was at your elbow, brandishing a stapler with deadly intent. His methods were a bit more…hands on than you would expect from someone in an office setting, but you were grateful all the same.

“I ain’t hurt anyone for real in years.” He confided in you one day while you were making copies, his lean frame towering over you. He tended to station himself to the side of you if he could help it, stating that he didn’t want to loom. “Used to pretty often though. This little program is good for me, I think.”

A huge pair of hands abruptly clamped down on your hips before you could respond, and you were rudely hoisted into the air and dropped to the side to free up the copier. “Out of my way.” Brock from Financial grunted.

“Hey!” Dean snapped, his expression gone fierce. “You don’t fucking touch them, Hunter’s orders!”

“What makes you think I give a flying fuck about Hunter’s orders?” Brock snorted derisively, “The little go-fer with slick-reek was taking too long. I have important work to do.”

You blushed hotly with shame, hoping that you didn’t actually smell like slick. How incredibly embarrassing!

“You can ask them to fucking move.” Ambrose’s fists clenched. “Or you can wait.”

“Copies really worth getting your panties in a wad over, Ambrose?” Brock’s grin was infuriating, arrogance shining through in his slouched posture.

“Certainly seemed like it was to you, Lesnar.” Dean scooped up the copy that Brock had made before the other Alpha could reach it, quickly ripping the page in half.

“Your maturity knows no bounds.” Brock sighed.

“Were you all set with the machine?” Dean asked you, studiously ignoring the massive Alpha blocking the door. You nodded quickly, not wanting to cause more trouble. You could always come back on your way out, after all. “Guess it’s your lucky day, Lesnar.”

“You do realize that they’ll fuck anyone, Ambrose. Regardless of how that person treats them.” Brock chuckled, his nasty smile back full-force. “Isn’t that right, little Omega? I bet you’d love it if I shoved up your skirt and just-”

“Stop!” You said while shaking your head violently, unsure at first if you were trying to shut him up or trying to keep your thoughts from circling on the visuals his words were eliciting. Normally you would have been thrilled at the idea of an Alpha offering you any sort of attention, especially attention that might ease the hot shivers in your stomach. But all you could focus on was the brief flash of a wounded look that crossed Ambrose’s face and the nausea that was building in your throat.

“Man, why the hell would you say something like that? Were you raised by wolves? Jesus.” Dean seemed more offended than anything else, moving until he was between you and Brock. “I mean shit, what’s your problem? Mommy issues? Daddy issues? Tiny penis? All three? Get the fuck away from them.” He gave Brock a hard shove, clearing the doorway. “Go ahead, I’ll be there in a minute.” Dean urged you, making you scramble for the hall.

You slid down the wall once you were in the hallway, tucking your knees up into your chest. Brock had done nothing but make everything worse, your face still hot from the notion that you might smell like slick and be unable to do anything about it. You got unsteadily to your feet and fled to the bathroom, locking yourself in a stall and resting your forehead against the door. Too late you realized you had forgotten your copies in the hallway, and tears choked your throat. Why was this so hard? Why did you have to be so stubborn about this job? Plenty of Omegas stayed at home, raising babies and keeping house. Why couldn’t you?

Maybe the suppressants failing was a blessing in disguise. Maybe…maybe you should be one of those Omegas. You had been so sure of yourself, and look where it had gotten you! Huddled up in a bathroom stall, your stomach rolling and tears dripping down your face. And now your nose was running. You thumped your head against the stall door and then flinched back when the bathroom door opened with a loud bang!

“Omega?” It was Dean, whispering as loud as he could. “You in here?”

“Yeah.” You sighed, unlocking the stall and opening the door. You kept your eyes fixed on the floor. “Sorry I ran. I know you have the worst job in this place and I’m not exactly making it easier by taking off on you.”

“Hey, I get it. You were scared, maybe a little embarrassed. Don’t listen to anything that asshole says, okay? He’s just pulling the same shit every other Alpha and Beta does, trying to guilt or threaten you into boning them.” Dean said bluntly. “Like I need to tell you that, like you don’t already know.” He laughed weakly. “And what the heck do you mean by ‘worst job’?”

You just shook your head, finally raising your eyes to look at him. He had a new graze on his cheek, the small cut oozing blood down the side of his jaw. “Oh, what happened?” You asked unhappily, reaching out and wiping the blood off with your thumb.

“Caught the side of the copier funny. It made that low toner warning t-turn off though, so I think I fixed it.” Dean’s voice hitched slightly and you hastily pulled your hand back.

“Sorry, I…reflex.” You apologized, tired to death of blushing. But you shouldn’t have touched him! He wasn’t yours, after all, and it was a little frowned upon when an unmated Omega went around touching unmated Alphas unnecessarily. “Didn’t mean to.”

“It’s alright.” Was all Dean said in reply, jamming his hands into his pockets. When you caught sight of his hands later on in the day, you noticed his knuckles were scraped open in a few places.

I ain’t hurt anyone for real in years.

What did he consider ‘for real’?

…

Your heat cycle ended and life returned to normal for the most part. Dean no longer needed to accompany you everywhere and he said as much, pressing the phone number for his doctor friend into your palm. “I’ll see you around, Omega.”

You scolded yourself for your daydreaming, sentimental tendencies on the way to your appointment with Doctor Swagger. You felt guilty for the trouble you must have put Dean through during your cycle and you were hoping this new doctor would be able to help you manage yourself better.

Doctor Jack Swagger was the largest Omega you had ever met, the blond man standing head and shoulders over you when he shook your hand warmly. “The usual? I doubt you want to spend your whole day off in my tidy little exam room.” His easy demeanor was a complete change from your prior physician and you found yourself relaxing. “Ambrothe recommended me, huh? I’m flattered.” Swagger grinned. “He’s normally all teeth when I have to poke and prod him, poor bastard.” He patted the examination table. “Alright, quick checkup and we’ll have you out of here in no time.”

True to his word it wasn’t long before you were on your way, the fresh script for name brand suppressants tucked safely into your pocket. Swagger said he had already called the order in, but that “it might be a good idea for you to have the script in hand, so they can cross-reference it.” Which you were sure was his way of letting you know that he wouldn’t be offended if you wanted to be certain you were getting the right product.

You were grateful that he seemed to understand your plight. But then again, who knew what kind of trials he had been through? Nobody could have believed he was an Omega, as huge as he was. You tightened your grip on the steering wheel. Of course, not every Omega was going to be small-boned and delicate, the world just didn’t work that way. People like you did lean towards the diminutive, but an Omega’s size wasn’t nearly as much of an issue as it would be for, say, a shorter Alpha.

There were plenty of other things people could find wrong with Omegas. Size was an outlier.

You shook your head at yourself. Those thoughts weren’t going to do you any good. Everything would be okay now! You would be back to your usual self in a few months and hopefully you could still see Dean every now and then--

No! Stop it! That’s not how this works! Just because he had treated you decently, just because he was required to keep you safe when you were more likely to have a lapse in judgment? You were a job, that was all. Something to keep Mr. Helmsley signing checks for him. Nothing was going to change that. I don’t get any say in the matter, you thought sadly. He’s not mine and he’s never going to be. Might as well get used to it, no Alpha is going to so much as look at me unless I’m in heat.

…

The next time your cycle came around, you were caught off guard. It was almost two weeks early! You did your best to remain calm on the drive to work, calling ahead to let Stephanie know you would be a little late. Dean met you at the door, his expression carefully neutral. “Again?” You nodded, biting your lip. He grunted, taking off his heavy leather jacket and dropping it over your shoulders. “That ought to mask it, at least for now. How do you feel?”

“Queasy.” You admitted, snuggling down into the coat and tucking your nose into the collar where Ambrose’s scent was cloyingly thick. It was pitiful and you knew it, saying as much when Dean gently took your arm to lead you in. “M’sorry, your jacket is going to smell all gross.” You mumbled.

“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t mind your smell? Damn.” Dean huffed.

“What if people think you’re my mate because my scent is all over your stuff?” You continued over him worriedly. “What if Brock comes after you?”

“That’s kinda’ the point.” Dean said matter-of-factly, making you pause. “Look, I’m here to help you avoid conflict. No one said I had to fight fair.” His smile was crooked. “I just hope you can deal with the group of people who will pity you.”

“Pity…?”

“Yeah, I’m not exactly a prime cut of Alpha steak.” He shrugged. “Not really much interest. Hell, I’m scrawny when you look at Reigns or Rollins.”

“I don’t think you’re scrawny!” You protested, touching his hand on your arm. “You’re trim.”

“Is that a thing? Sure, okay. I’m ‘trim’.” Dean chuckled. “Whatever makes you feel better.”

“Not every Alpha needs to be huge, y’know.”

Dean fell silent at your words and you wondered if you had annoyed him. His hold tightened momentarily on your arm. “Come…come in here for a second.” He muttered finally, ushering you into an empty conference room.

You were instantly on guard, your death grip on the jacket around your shoulders the biggest oxymoron you could think of. Ambrose left the door to the hallway slightly ajar, and he leaned against the wall beside it.

“Look, I don’t want you thinkin’ you owe me for this uh…well, whatever it is that I’m doing. Escorting, I guess. I was trained to do this, okay? It’s not like I moonlight in HR or somethin’, this is what I clock in to do. So you ain’t gotta’ be delicate with me, alright? I’m a big kid.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“I don’t understand.” You said slowly, feeling like that was the best course of action.

Dean dragged a hand through his hair. “You…what you said. Not that I don’t appreciate hearin’ stuff like that, mind you. I don’t want to think that I’m…fuckin’, inadequate. And I usually don’t think that way anyhow. But you don’t have to say stuff just to make me feel better. Like I said, I’m a big kid.” He tried for another smile and it was even less convincing than his previous attempt. “Now, let’s get you to your office.”

“But-” You began to protest, bewildered.

“Please. Drop it.” Dean said softly, his hand tucked back into the crook of your elbow. “Seriously.”

You nodded, not really wanting to but understanding that he was uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. And wasn’t that odd, an Omega trying to make an Alpha feel at ease! “Hey, if you ever need to talk to someone…”

“I’m fine. Thank you.” Oh, you had definitely upset him. His words were clipped and short, bitten out. “What’s up with me is my own business, Omega.”

“Yeah, but if you have to babysit on top of that-”

“I’m not babysitting you.”

“You literally put your coat on me and now you’re leading me along this hallway like I’ve never been here before. Face it, you’re a babysitter.” Your stomach twisted suddenly, robbing you of your breath and making you stop in your tracks. “Oh.”

“Omega? Shit.” Dean swore, glancing both ways before propping you up against the wall. “It's okay, you’re alright. You’re alright, it’ll pass.” He said softly, brushing your hair back from your face.

You tried to focus on his voice, tried to focus on his hands on your shoulders. “Dean-” You whispered.

“Shh, you’re alright. Breathe.” Dean urged and you nodded, trying to be obedient for this Alpha. “Just keep breathing, you’ll be okay. Nothing bad is gonna’ happen while I’m here, I promise.” His eyes lowered. “Is it your stomach?”

“Y-Yeah.” You choked out. “Hard to breathe-”

Dean grimaced and spread his palm flat on the lower portion of your stomach, applying firm, even pressure as he worked his hand in small circles. The heat of his fingers bled through your blouse and you whimpered, quickly biting down on your knuckles to stifle the noise. “Easy now, just relax into me.” He rasped, his voice rougher than usual. “I’ve got you.”

The pain in your stomach dissipated almost as quickly as it had arrived, and you held onto Dean’s arm while you tried to regain your balance. “What…God, I feel like I just ran a marathon.” You said finally, making Dean snicker.

“You probably blew through your caloric intake for the week. Let’s get you to the office and then I’ll find you a snack.” Ambrose’s hand stayed on your stomach, supporting you during the rest of the trek to the Omega office. You wanted to wonder at that, but you quickly crushed the notion. He was doing his job. Nothing more, but definitely nothing less.

He kept closer than he usually did, touching you with some part of his body for the majority of the work day. Fingertips, his jeans brushing your slacks or his arm bumping your own in the narrow hallways. Normally it wouldn’t matter, but after his curt behavior earlier it was entertaining to a degree. And confusing.

“I just don’t think I could do it.” He muttered out of the blue.

You glanced up from the pile of mail you were trying to sort, seeing that he was fiddling with his phone. “What?” You asked, making him jump.

“Oh, sorry. That was supposed to be in my head. My bad.” Dean apologized, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just thinkin’ about…well, it doesn’t really matter.” You raised an eyebrow and he swallowed hard, the sound seeming over-loud in the quiet room. “Uh. Jesus, if I hadn’t seen you earlier I’d swear you were an Alpha. You’ve got the stern look down pat.”

“Oh?” You wrinkled your nose, unsure if you were being complimented.

Ambrose practically lunged across the desk to pick up one of the bottles of water he had grabbed earlier, clumsily popping the cap on it and downing half the contents. “Okay, alright, you win, you can’t do that shit with your nose.” He gasped once he was done. “Look, it wouldn’t work between us. I ain’t never even thought about dating an Omega before!” Dean sounded outright panicky and you got the feeling his mouth was miles ahead of his brain as he rambled, “I mean, I have thought about it, yeah, but it scares the shit out of me. I just--if-if they have some kind of wave and I ain’t around, what happens? What fucking happens? People talk a lot of shit but there isn’t any hard proof, do Omegas want to bang whatever whenever? And if they do, why would--”

“Listen, I’d love to answer but I can’t. If I told you I’d have to kill you. Official orders from Omega higher-ups.” You interrupted Dean pompously, barely holding back your giggles when he gave you a wide-eyed look. “What, you don’t know about the network? We have influential Omegas stationed at key points across the globe, Dean. There’s nothing Alphas or Betas can do without us knowing.”

Understanding dawned on Dean’s face and he shoved your shoulder, giving an embarrassed laugh. “Shut up, I was bein’ serious y’know.”

“I don’t really know the answers.” You admitted. “I’ve been on suppressants since my first heat, and up until relatively recently they worked fine. So I couldn’t tell you. I doubt Omegas actually want to bang whatever whenever, but hormones are a funny thing. Especially if they’re combined with a fertile Alpha or Beta. Your scent makes me weak in the knees, sure, but I’m not about to jump you. With the half-strength suppressants the hardest part was dealing with the mental images.”

“Oh. Like when Brock was-”

“Ew, Jesus, don’t remind me.” You cut him off, covering your ears. “It was bad enough in the moment, God. I wanted to die.”

“Why do people do that shit to you guys?” Dean asked, “Just to get you wound up? Give you some kind of picture that’ll make your body feel even worse until you get some relief?”

“So that they can conveniently offer to be the relief.” You shook your head. “Guilting and manipulating an Omega into mating while they’re in heat ought to be a punishable offense. Nine times out of ten we aren’t in our right minds, how are you supposed to get consent out of someone who can’t even remember words anymore?”

“And that’s the ticket right there, isn’t it.” Ambrose growled. “Fuckin’ pieces of crap get an Omega riled to the point of incoherence and have their fun.” He gave you a sidelong look. “That uh, that something that’s happened to you?”

“No, not me personally. I’ve been very lucky.” You replied softly.

“Well you ain’t gotta’ rely on luck anymore, okay? I’m here. I’m not particularly lucky myself, but what little I’ve got I’ll happily spread thin for ya’.” Dean cracked his knuckles, looking very serious. “That’s why I signed on to this program anyway, figured if my Alpha hormones are fucked I might as well do some good.”

“How are they messed up?”

“Ah, I get weird dry spells. Months, sometimes. I’ve got some meds to regulate it for when the spigot turns back on, mostly because if I didn’t I could probably tear a stack of phonebooks for kicks. It’s like testosterone overload, I can’t get a straight thought through my head even with the meds. I’ll be like ‘I need food’, then two seconds later I’m out climbing my fire escape, stealing tomatoes off the balcony of the guy who lives above me.” Dean shrugged. “Probably naked too, if I know myself.”

“Oh my God.”

“Yeah, I’m uh, not too bright when I get that way.”

…

Friday had come at last. It had been a long week and you were definitely looking forward to some time off. Ambrose was more fidgety than normal, to the point where it was actually getting on your nerves. Usually you barely noticed it, but today Dean seemed like he was trying to tap and shimmy his way out of his own skin.

“Hey, are you okay?” You asked, much sharper than you had intended.

Dean flinched, not meeting your eyes when he looked up and instead focusing on a point by your shoulder. “Yep.” He said shortly.

You quirked an eyebrow at his behavior, getting to your feet and smoothing the wrinkles out of your skirt. “Hey, if something is wrong you can tell me, you know. I’m not in anyone’s pocket just yet.”

“I just have to get through this shift. I’d appreciate it if you would drop it.” Was his stiff reply.

“Is it something that I did?” You asked worriedly, thanking God that you were at the end of your heat and your flush wasn’t quite so neon. “Did I say something? Did…did Brock do something?”

“This ain’t got anythin’ to do with you!” Dean said, his voice rasping badly when he raised it. He deflated almost immediately. “Sorry, I’m…sorry. I promise it’s not anything that you did. I just gotta’ get through today. I’m trying real hard to keep my cool here, Omega.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You asked, lowering your own voice and crouching so you were at eye level with him. Dean still wouldn’t look you in the eye, awkwardly shifting in his chair. “Hey, I’m serious. You take such good care of me all the time. Do you need a water? Something to snack on?”

“It feels like someone cranked the knob up to eleven and then snapped it off.” Ambrose mumbled, not answering your question. Then, “If something happens…”

“Nothing is going to happen. I’m running down the hall to the lounge, getting you a water and some chips, then coming right back. Three minutes tops.” You promised, giving him a reassuring smile. “Let me take care of you.”

Ambrose groaned loudly, dropping his head into his hands and rubbing his temples. “Alright, okay, fine. Just be careful. Three minutes. I’m coming to get you if you’re not back.” He threatened half-heartedly, making you snicker while you stood.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” You eased into the hallway, making sure it was empty before you closed the door behind you. As you made the short walk to the break room, you wondered whether this was the beginning of Dean’s own proverbial hell week. Your heart went out to him if it was, you of all people understood that having your body go to war with itself was not a fun experience.

The vending machine was devoid of chips, but there were a few packets of crackers available. You fed it your change and then huffed in annoyance when the crackers got stuck in the dispenser. Pounding your fist on the side of the machine did no good, and you resorted to shoulder-checking it until it rocked enough to drop the crackers. “Ha!” You said triumphantly, retrieving your prize and turning around.

Brock was so close you all but walked into his chest and your heart sank to your shoes. “Well well well, if it isn’t the office pet. Where’s your cuntlicker?” Brock leered down at you.

You swallowed hard. Cuntlicker? “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Omega bitch. Where’s Ambrose?” Brock’s tiny eyes narrowed even further. “I owe him for the other day, after all. Maybe I ought to have you suck me off as an apology.”

“What makes you think I would agree to something like that?” You snapped, ignoring the faded response of your body that clamored to be claimed by an Alpha.

“I don’t need you to agree-”

“If you don’t want me to bite your cock off, I feel like my agreement is incredibly important.” You snarled, surprising yourself with your own aggression. “Also? Not even if I was out of my mind with heat, Lesnar.”

“Is that fucking so?” Brock’s hands crushed your shoulders, the large Alpha hefting you up and pinning you to the wall without so much as a noise of exertion. “Try again, Omega bitch.”

“Go fuck yourself, asshole!” You struggled in his grip, kicking your legs and wriggling wildly. “You don’t own me, no one owns me, no one has any right to treat me like this so fuck you!” You proclaimed furiously. “I’m nobody’s sweet little Omega and I will tear your dick off if you touch me again!” You were screaming at this point, so incredibly outraged that you were seeing red.

“What are you gonna’ do to me? You can’t even fight back.” Brock sneered. “Until I decide to let you go, you’re stuck. So do me a favor and stop wasting my time, little bitch.” His fingers dug in harshly but instead of crying out in pain you spat at him, refusing to be cowed. “I know you’re gonna’ change your tune the second you see my cock, you Omegas are all the same. Once I wreck you, Ambrose won’t come within thirty yards of your sorry ass.”

You jerked your head to the side and sank your teeth into his hand. Brock responded by slamming your back against the wall so hard you saw stars for a second.

“Don’t push your luck-”

The door to the room opened and Ambrose half-fell through the doorway, barely catching himself in time. “What are you fuckin’ doing?” He asked Lesnar bluntly, his teeth clicking loudly at the end of the sentence. Dean looked feverish, his hair messy and eyes wild.

I’ve got some meds to regulate it for when the spigot turns back on, mostly because if I didn’t I could probably tear a stack of phonebooks for kicks.

You gulped. “Ambrose why are you so fucking obnoxious?” Brock grunted. Dean didn’t bother to respond, he simply latched onto Lesnar’s fingers and peeled one of his hands off your shoulders. You dropped to the floor and then with an ugly twist of his wrist, Ambrose snapped every finger on Brock’s hand.

“Keep it up, Lesnar. Give me an excuse t’ send ya’ ass t’ the fuckin’ ER.” Ambrose snarled. “Didn’t you learn your lesson the first time? I figured you’d appreciate the black eye, but I guess you’re more hands-on than that.”

“You broke my fucking fingers!”

“You had the Omega trapped, not much choice.” Ambrose shrugged. “My job description is ‘any means necessary’.” His footing was unsteady, the slender man almost falling over when he managed to pull you upright. “Are you alright, Omega? Anythin’ hurt?” He asked, straightening out your blouse clumsily.

You threw your arms around him, hugging him as fiercely as you could. Dean stiffened for a second before he returned your embrace, holding you tight to his chest and cradling the back of your head like he had the first day you had met.

“Are you alright?” He asked again, quieter this time. “Did he hurt you?”

“N-no, I’m okay. I had it under control.” You selfishly buried your face in his shirt, inhaling his scent deeply.

“I noticed.” Dean whispered.

“You're gonna' fucking pay for this, Ambrose!” The larger Alpha swore, easily ripping Dean away from you and delivering a blow to the smaller man's jaw that snapped his head to the side. “After I'm done with you, you'll eat through a straw for the rest of your life!” Brock raged, his broken hand cupped to his chest.

Dean shook his head and then bared his teeth, blue eyes wide and pupils blown in a fixated stare. “And I was gonna' let you live, too.” He rasped, giving a harsh bark of mirthless laughter. He caught your arm and pushed you towards the door, his fingers lingering on your skin longer than he needed to. “Get Hunter, Omega. Be good for me, okay?” His scent was saturated with Alpha smell, strong enough to take your breath away.

“But-!”

Ambrose didn't have another second of attention to spare, throwing himself bodily at Lesnar and flooring him. The last thing you saw before fleeing to go find Mr. Helmsley was Dean straddling Brock, the slim Alpha ranting swears while the two of them swung wildly at each other.

…

What was left of Brock Lesnar was blackballed from King's Game and all its subsidiaries. Which may have stretched further than you had anticipated. Dean was released into the care of Rollins and Reigns. According to Mr. Helmsley he was a little too far gone to be trusted with driving himself home. “He’ll be fine in a few days.” The older Alpha assured you, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “He bounces back pretty quick. Tough kid, Ambrose.”

You spent the weekend quietly. You were shaken by the fact that while Ambrose clearly displayed dominant tendencies, he hadn’t ever tried to assert that dominance over you. He also hadn’t thought for a second about taking a piece out of Brock, recklessly lunging at the larger man.

Was it because Brock had gone after you? Or was simply because he had hit Dean? Ambrose had seemed to be in his right mind until he had been punched, then he had obviously lost the battle with his surging hormones. Now that you thought on it, if what Dean had said was true, Brock was probably lucky to be alive.

Dean wasn’t at work on Monday or Tuesday. When Wednesday came, you marched straight to the Alpha Program office and banged on the door.

Seth opened the door, staring down at you momentarily. “Uh. Yes?” He asked after an awkward pause.

“I need Dean’s address.” You said firmly.

“Ha! Pay up, Rollins.” Reigns called from his desk across the room, chuckling while Seth swore under his breath and dug into his pocket for his wallet.

“Why do you want Ambrose’s info?” Rollins questioned you warily. “He’s not in the greatest shape right now, and I dunno’ if he’s fit comp-”

“He lit into Lesnar and I want to know why.”

“Brock put his hands on you. Dean takes his job very seriously.” Seth explained like you were a child, making you bristle.

“But why pummel the guy? Not that I’m ungrateful, mind you. It just seemed like overkill is all.” You wrinkled your nose. “I don’t know. I guess I just want to talk to him. Make sure he’s alright. I haven’t felt okay since that day and I…” You trailed off, feeling that familiar blush creep up your neck.

“Ah. Talk.” Roman cleared his throat. “I don’t know if he’ll be in the proper headspace for speech. But hey, maybe having you there will help him come back around.”

“Is he really that far gone?”

“The spat with Lesnar pushed him further than it should have. He’s been mostly non-verbal whenever Rollins or I check on him.” Roman shrugged. “He’s not hurting himself. He’s all bundled up in a blanket den like usual, it’s just that he’s not talking. Dean gets into his own head sometimes and there’s not a whole lot we can do about it except let him know that we’re there for him if he needs us.”

“Will he hurt me if I show up?”

“Ambrose ain’t like that.” Seth answered sharply. “He’s a couple sandwiches short, yeah, but he’s never violent without a reason. He thinks the world of you.” He stopped, looking embarrassed. “Uh, not in like…a creepy way or anything. Just, y’know, you’re important to him, I guess.” He floundered.

“Okay.” You took a deep breath. “So give me his address.”

…

Ambrose lived in a rougher neighborhood and you were immensely thankful that your heat had passed. You weren’t sure you would have been as confident if it still had your body in its grip. Even in your right mind, you spent a solid five minutes talking yourself up in the car. “C’mon, Rollins said he wouldn’t hurt you. You don’t even think he would hurt you, you big baby.” You shut the car door behind you firmly, straightened out your skirt and headed for the apartment complex stairwell.

Reigns had given you Dean’s door code, stating that he was unsure if Ambrose would be able to answer the door in his current state. The lock clicked open under your fingers and you let yourself into Dean’s apartment, knocking your knuckles against the wood of the door to announce your presence. “Ambrose?” The first thing that hit you was the smell, Alpha scent so strong it made your head spin and knees weak. You braced yourself on the chair beside the door, trying to clear your head.

The second thing you noticed was that the whole apartment was dark. Daylight filtered in weakly through the curtains, but other than that the place was in shadow.

You put the small bag of groceries that you had picked up before coming over onto the counter, noting with worry that there were no dirty dishes in the sink. “Dean?” You called a little louder, thoroughly concerned now. “Hey, where are you? Roman and Seth said that you’d be here.”

Behind you there was the sound of a door creaking open. You whirled just in time to see Dean unfolding his lanky form from a pantry that was definitely not meant to be a living space. He spilled out onto the floor and laid there for a minute, before he turned his head to the side and groaned pitifully.

“Dean!” You dropped to your knees, forgoing your usual Omega propriety in favor of touching his shoulder. “Dean, oh my God. Are you alright?” After another long minute he raised his head slightly, dazed blue eyes trying hard to focus on your face. “Dean, it’s me. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” You said quietly.

Dean’s reply was a hum that turned into a low moan, his forehead hitting the floor again with a dull thud. “Om’ga.” He slurred. “Thought y’ were th’ guys. Y’kay? Lesn’r come back? I’ll geddup, ‘ll kick his ass again…” Ambrose struggled to do just that, shoving himself into a sitting position. He then inhaled deeply and you watched his pupils dilate. “Y’ didn’t need to come over here. M’ fine. Just been in my den.”

“Is that what you call the pantry?”

“Small, dark. Quiet. I need that when I’m like this.” His voice sounded shot.

“Can I get you something to drink?” You offered. Dean flailed an arm out until he caught hold of a drawer pull, hauling himself partially upright. You grabbed his free hand and managed to help him the rest of the way.

“Fuck’s sake.” He rasped, holding tight to your arm. The knuckles on his hands were still cracked and yellow-green bruised, presumably from his fight with Lesnar. “Feel like hot garbage. Why y’ here?” He asked wearily, his head lolling back momentarily.

“I’ve been worried about you.” You said, a little plainer than you had intended.

Ambrose jerked his head up to look at you, obviously startled. “You…what?” You propped him up against the counter and filled him a glass of water from the sink, which he quickly drank. “Om’ga m’ serious, wh…what did y’ say?”

“I was worried about you.” You whispered, twiddling your fingers nervously.

“Why?” Ambrose asked bluntly.

“I don’t know, because you got into a fight with an Alpha who’s at least twice your size? If I had just-”

Ambrose placed a finger on your lips, stopping the flow of words. “Y’ not gettin’ raped while I’m on th’ fuckin’ clock, un’nerstan’? Don’t care how sick I am.”

“But if I had let him-” You tried to continue your previous train of thought.

“No. There’s no gray area here, Om’ga. Not allowed. No is no, always has been. Y’ did th’ right thing by fightin’ back.” Dean closed his eyes, tilting his head back to bump the cupboards. “I saw him fuckin’ pinnin’ you there an’…thought I was too late. Got so scared.” He confessed. “Needed you t’ leave. Wouldn’t hurt you, but…but I didn’t want y’ afraid of me if I fucked him up.”

“Is he at least fun to punch?” You asked dryly.

Dean’s drawn-out groan of a response sounded downright filthy. “So much fun.” He dragged a hand through his hair, finally seeming to notice the shopping bag you had brought in. “Whuss’at?”

“Dinner. I didn’t know how sick you were, so I um. I brought dinner.” You fought down the feelings of self-consciousness when Dean’s face became guarded. “It’s pretty basic stuff, but I know when I’m knee-deep in heat there’s nothing better than not having to make your own food.”

“Omega, m' okay. You don't need to--y'know.” Dean fell silent. When he spoke again, his voice was much quieter. “I already tol' y' that I'm a big kid. Don't have to take care of me or say shit I wanna' hear. Which one of th' guys put y' up to this? Bet it was Rollins.”

“Nobody put me up to anything, why is that so hard to believe?” You asked, thoroughly irritated.

“It wouldn' be th' firs' time, is all. Don't mean t' be all weird abou'it.”

“I'm here because I was worried sick about you, and I wanted to know why you went after Lesnar so hard even after you got him to let me go.”

“Make sure he never did it again. He shouldn't have put his hands on you.” Ambrose snarled. “He talked so much shit when you weren't around, tryin'a rile me up n' get under m' skin. Fuckin' rattlin' on about how I mus' be fuckin' you, there's no other reason I'd take on the job 'cept to get first crack at an Omega, righ'?” He said bitterly. “It's Alphas like him that made me apply in the first place, an' look at me. Stooped to his fuckin' level th' firs' chance I could get away with it.”

“But you were on the opposite side of it!” You protested.

“It don't fuckin' matter. I went full rut-brain and hauled off on someone. Coulda' killed him.” Dean muttered grimly. “Been thinkin' about it this whole time. If Hunter hadn't gotten there when he did...Christ, was so fuckin' mad.” You wrapped your arms around him impulsively, hugging him tight. Dean actually moaned at the display of affection, his cheek dropping to rest on the top of your head. “Omega, y' can't...”

“I can.” You said softly.

“I won't prove him right, Omega.” Ambrose whispered, his hands trembling when he rested them on your hips. “I won't accept a reward for bein' someone like him, some domineerin' Alpha fuckstick.”

“I'm not a reward, I'm a human being. A lot of time and effort goes into me, Ambrose. I expect you to appreciate that.” You said huffily into his chest. “I'm hell on wheels during my heat if I'm not on suppressants and I don't fully understand how bad you get during your own spells, but I'm willing to try if you are.”

“Y' willin'?” Dean tipped your chin up, searching your eyes with his own. “Are y' serious?” You kissed him on the mouth instead of answering and he startled you with a gravelly whimper, his body going slack against yours while he cupped your face and kissed you back. “God, Omega, I've been goin' out of my mind, I wanted t' ask, wanted t' do it right.” He breathed. “I know I'm not much of an Alpha, m' skinny an' not nearly as dominant as I oughta' be, but...but God I want you. Wanted you t' want me, t’ take me as your mate.” He crooned helplessly in his throat. “Knew it from the first second I saw you, but you were so pretty. I don’t get pretty things.” He buried his face in your hair, rocking you back and forth. “I thought I fucked everythin' up when I went after Lesnar. Thought I scared you.”

“I was scared for you. I knew you weren't feeling well and I didn't want you to get hurt.” You assured him, boldly resting your hands on his hips.

Dean chuckled. “Ain't gotta' worry about me, Omega. Been in way worse shit than that.”

“Don't say that. I don't even want to think about you getting hurt.”

The Alpha groaned louder than you expected at your words. “I don't think anyone's ever not wanted me to get pummeled. You sure I ain't dreamin'?” You kissed him again, softer this time. “God, if I'm dreamin' don't wake me up.”

“Will you let me fix dinner?” You asked cautiously. “You can shower while I do that, might make you feel a little more human.”

Dean kissed your forehead, then teasingly rubbed his overgrown stubble across your cheek. “Not a fan of the mountain man look, Om’ga?”

“I didn’t say you had to shave!” You protested quickly, making him snort with laughter. “Just get washed up. Nothing better than a nice hot shower when you’re in heat, take my word for it. Yes, I know you’re not in heat, but I feel like a few of the rules are universal.” You ticked them off on your fingers as you spoke. “One, any food you don’t have to cook yourself is good food. Two, a hot bath is next to godliness. A hot shower will suffice, but it has to be hot. Three, if you need to cry because something hurts, that’s okay. And four, the most important one, be careful.”

“I ain’t gotten murdered in the shower yet, have I?” Dean looked troubled for a second. “Does…does it hurt when you have your heat? Where does it hurt? We learned that stomach soothe thing in our trainin’, but that can’t be all.”

“Ah, I personally get pains in the small of my back, my neck and shoulders. The stomach throbbing I think is universal, something to do with the reproductive areas going into overdrive with prep work.” You shrugged. “It’s so strange to me that there’s no concrete answer to essentially any Omega problem. It’s always a ‘possibility’ or some crap like that.”

“Tryin’ to keep you guys under everyone’s thumb.” Dean grunted, moving to scoop his blanket nest up out of the pantry. “More research means more informed folks like Doc Swagger, right? Can’t have that shit fixin’ their system.” He reasoned. His face reddened when he caught the incredulous look you were giving him. “My uh, my ma was an Omega.” He fumbled to explain, clinging tighter to the blankets as if they were a shield. “Never knew my dad.”

“Oh, so you’ve had a vested interest in that kind of thing.” You realized. Dean nodded wordlessly, ducking his face into the blankets. “Hey, don’t hide from me you goof, that’s a good thing.”

“Seth thinks it’s weird.” Dean muttered.

“Seth’s not an Omega, now is he? Of course he thinks it’s weird.” You chided. “I think it’s awesome that you pay attention to stuff like that.” You tugged the blankets down and kissed him again, smiling. “Now go get washed up.”

“God, just havin’ you around makes me feel more human.” He said dazedly. “Yeah, okay, shower. Goin’.”

You squealed quietly to yourself once you were sure he was in the shower, doing a giddy little shimmy before you started making dinner. He likes me! He’s liked me since the beginning! Your whole body still felt like it was buzzing happily from all the kisses and touches; you had never been touched tenderly by an Alpha before Dean. It had always been so clinical, as though being an Omega was contagious and no one else wanted to get infected.

Dean obviously didn’t give a damn, never shying away from the limited contact you had been bold enough to make. He seemed to welcome your hugs and kisses as well, so you made a mental note to do that as often as you thought you could get away with.

A still-stubbled chin rested on your shoulder and a set of strong arms wrapped around your midsection. “Miss me, Omega?” Dean asked, grunting when you wiggled back against him contentedly. “Think I’m about eighty-five percent human again. Makin’ mac n’ cheese?”

“Mm. Ultimate comfort food.” You nodded, continuing to stir the pasta. “Want to set your table, or should I?”

“I can manage it.” Dean pulled away, pecking the top of your head. “Thanks for takin’ care of me, Omega. Y’know you don’t have to, right?”

“I’m doing this because I want to, Alpha Ambrose.” You teased, making him rumble in his chest.

“Could get used to that.” He said finally, his tongue poking out from between his teeth when he smirked at you. The smirk vanished after you commented positively on his dimples, his face taking on a more bashful look while he set two bowls out on the counter. “Always thought they were out of place on the mug of a guy like me, y’know? Weird fuckin’ cherub smile.”

“You must have gotten away with so much when you were little.” You sighed. He grinned at you, silently indicating that he absolutely did. “Who am I kidding, you probably still raise hell.”

“Nah, Lesnar was my first fight in ages. There’s this thing called getting arrested, happened once or twice. Kinda’ not a fan of it so I’ve kept my nose clean.”

“Arrested? Never heard of it.”

“Yeah, it’s weird, it’s when ‘The Man’ decides he’s had enough of your semi-vigilante bullshit.” Dean snuck a taste of mac n' cheese out of the pot as you reached over to turn off the heat and he laughed when you swatted him on the shoulder. “Alright, alright, I'll be good! You gotta' hurry up though, m' starvin'.”

Dean, it turned out, didn't exactly have a kitchen table. His living room sort of...flowed into the kitchen and he apparently ate on his couch most of the time. He ended up hauling the worn coffee table in close enough to bump his knees when he sat down, then patted the space on the couch beside him.

“C'mere, Omega.” He urged, wrapping an arm around your shoulders when you obliged him. To your surprise, he scooped up a spoonful of cheesy pasta from his bowl and proceeded to feed it to you. Your brow furrowed in confusion as you chewed and swallowed, and Dean cocked his head to the side. “What is it?” He asked.

“You just said you were hungry.” You pointed out, tentatively accepting another mouthful of mac n' cheese.

“I am. But if you're my mate, if...if we're dating, you come first.” Dean said firmly. “So you eat, and then I'll eat.”

“How about we compromise?” You suggested, emptying your bowl out on top of his and then offering him a spoonful of your own pasta. “We'll eat from the same bowl. I'll feed you, and you can feed me.”

“Yeah?” Ambrose looked suspiciously misty-eyed for a second, before he cleared his throat and eagerly ate the comfort food. “M' old-fashioned, sorry.” He mumbled around his mouthful. “Never had anyone to share stuff with like this. I always thought I'd have t' bring a fresh-killed deer to someone's parents or somethin'. But I guess sittin' in my apartment eatin' cheesy mac ain't so bad.”

“Think you can live with the disappointment?” You grinned.

“Oh, I'll manage somehow.”

His quiet murmurs of contentment slowly turned into outright purring as the evening went on, and you found yourself petting his hair while the two of you watched television. “Hey, can you look at me for a second?” You requested softly, making Dean tilt his head up. “Hi.” You kissed him and he moaned into your mouth, seeming caught off-guard.

“Omega, fuck.” He breathed. “Hi. Huh.” He shuddered all over. “One more of those and I'll wreck my pants. Go easy on me.”

“Why? Do you get like it when I kiss you?” You asked, giggling when Dean nodded wildly. “What else could I possibly do to you, if that's all it takes?”

“Everything.” Dean growled, twining his fingers with your own. “Everything and anything is great. Kiss me, bite me.” He was all but begging, baring his neck and burying his face in your shoulder. “Bite me, bite me please.”

You blushed bright red, licking your lips at his invitation. “Are...Are you sure? What if I hurt you?”

“I dare you.” You mouthed over his neck and he sobbed out a breath against your shoulder, his body twitching. “God, please, please Omega, just-” Your teeth dug in, canines crushing down. Dean froze for a second, almost long enough for you to get worried. “Fuck.” He snarled, “Yeah, you're perfect.”

“More?” You asked, squeaking when he yanked his shirt off and pulled you into his lap. His eyes met your own and the two of you just stared at each other for a moment. “More.” You announced.

“You're my mate.” Dean replied, cradling the back of your neck when you nosed across his shoulder. “Whatever you want, just keep biting me.” You sank your teeth in harder this time, giving a growl of your own when Ambrose rolled his hips. Your skirt rode up on your thighs. “You want to go further, Omega? We can if you want to.”

“You say while I have a mouthful of your neck.”

“Hey, don't talk with your mouth full.” Dean scolded, carding his fingers through your hair. You giggled and he started laughing as well after a second, his smile warm when he looked down at you. “What do you want from me, Omega?”

“A lot of things.” You answered truthfully, pulling your skirt up out of the way. Dean's eyes widened gratifyingly when you ground yourself against the swell of his cock in his jeans. “A specific thing right now, if you're interested.”

“Jesus Christ, if.” Dean unbuttoned his jeans, biting his lip when you pushed his hand away and unzipped his zipper. “You're dangerous, know that?” He rasped. “Checkin' up on me, feedin' me.”

“I have to take care of my Alpha.” You said simply.

“Yours, Omega. All yours. As long as you'll have me.” Dean spoke just as plainly as you, cupping your cheek. “Until you leave.”

“I'm not going to.”

“I sure as hell hope not.” He watched hungrily while you shed your panties, rumbling when he saw the slick that shone in the dim light. “Fuck, you can't still be...”

“No, m' just wet.” You rose up onto your knees and Dean shivered in anticipation, his thighs tight beneath you. “It's much worse when I'm in heat, trust me. Half the time I don't even bother with underwear.”

“You say that like it's a bad thing.” He sighed, gripping the base of his cock and giving himself a lazy stroke. “If that ain't a turn-on, I dunno' what is.”

“Good to know.” Dean's knuckles brushed the soft skin on your thigh and then he pulled away, letting you slowly lower yourself onto his cock. You weren't able to hold back a moan and he echoed your noise, sounding desperate. His fingers dug into the couch on either side of his body when you were fully seated, and you panted out a few shallow breaths as you tried to get used to the size of him. “God, Dean.” You gasped.

“Oh Jesus, fuck.” Dean grunted, whimpering when you snapped your teeth back down into his neck. “Yes, good Omega, good Omega, bite me, mark me.” He urged, his eyes rolling back in his skull as you tugged at his hair and began riding him. “Best Omega, don't be shy little Omega, fuck me, fuck me-”

You leaned back, using your hold on his hair to make him watch his dick slide in and out of you. “You like it? You like the way I take your Alpha cock?” You crooned, his passive behavior driving you to quicken your pace. He still had his hands clenched into fists on the cushions, like he was afraid to touch you. “Fuck up into me like you mean it, Alpha. Claim me.” You demanded. His hips bucked once, shallowly, and you ground down onto him.

“Don't want to hurt you.” He groaned, his hands seeming to move of their own accord despite his words. Dean palmed your thighs, only tightening his grip after you nodded encouragingly. “Won't hurt you. Your Alpha's gonna' make you come.”

“Yes please!” You begged, leaning into his touch.

“Look at you, taking every inch of me. What a good Omega you are.” Dean praised, “You needed this, didn't you? Needed your Alpha inside you to fill you up. Alpha's here.” He thrust his cock up, snarling, “Alpha's right here to give you what you need, tell him what you need. You need it harder? You need it faster?” You could have cried with relief when he crushed you down to sit in his lap again, his dominant tendencies shining through. “Grind on your Alpha's cock.” He ordered and you obeyed, making him grit out a swear. “Hah, fuck, Omega, you're so tight around me, fuck--”

“I'm a good Omega, right?” You panted, and Dean pressed his forehead to yours. “M' a good Omega, make you feel good?”

“God fucking dammit Omega, this is the fucking best I've ever felt in my life.” He growled, “Come for me, c'mon, get my knot fuckin' slick for you, do it, do it-” The bulge at the base of his cock throbbed against you, prodding thickly at your pussy with delicious intent. Just the thought that something so big would be inside you in a matter of moments was enough to make you arch your back and grind down even faster, your pubic mound bucking against his stomach in a frantic bid for completion.

Your orgasm surged through you, sending jolts up and down your spine where Dean gripped you fiercely. In the midst of it all, his knot slipped into you and you buried your face in his shoulder, crying out loudly and circling your hips. “Oh sweetheart, oh God, God are you alright? Are you alright?” Dean gasped, trembling fingers combing through your hair soothingly. “Jesus, I'll stop if you're not alright Omega, need to tell me y' okay.”

You managed to give him a thumbs up, making him moan in what seemed to be relief. His knot throbbed inside of you and then he grunted, coming hard. You sucked in a breath at the sensation of being mated, claimed and proven worthy by your Alpha's knot like you were an Omega out of the history books.

“Fuck.” Dean breathed. “Fuck. I've never knotted anyone before.” He mumbled finally. “Never had it engage. Holy fuck, you're my mate.”

“I'm your mate?” You echoed, unable to hide your smile.

Dean appeared to be in the same boat, his eyes going wide with the realization. “I'm your mate.”

“You're my mate.” You kissed his forehead. “My Alpha.”

“My Omega. I...God, wow. That sounds...that sounds really great.” He smiled up at you, his curls a frazzled mess and blue eyes bright with affection. “My Omega-mate.” You relaxed into Dean's arms and he began humming softly, continuing to stroke your hair and plant the occasional kiss on the top of your head. “Take a breather, Omega. We've got time.” He murmured. “Sleep good.”

Sleep good.

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tumblunni · 6 years

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AWW WTF TOKYO MIRAGE SESSIONS MADE ME FEEL ACTUAL FEELINGS

Its kinds stupid how every single girl has a contrived 'go on a fake date' scene with protag, and all the dialogue choices are pointless cos even if you fuck up and act like an asshole forever all these girls will still wanna jump your dick just cos youre the protag. And also it sucks that like HALF OF THE PARTY only joins super close to the end of the main story, and you wont really get to know them very well unless you go nah to the apocolypse and waste 10 hours doing sidequests. And it also sucks that you have to unlock these sidequests via battling. Like it could have been cool that using people in your party raises their friendship stat, but in practise it just means grinding for hours after youve finished all the actual story content. Like sidequests are supposed to be generally a good way to grind up in between story!

ALSO theoretically the date with Eleonora SHOULD be just as bad as the rest. Like it sounds super shitty that she has to 'learn how to be a normal girl in love' in order to progress her career in showbiz, and apparantly she's never been interested in boys before protag shows her ~the real way~ Like man invoking unfortunate implications of LGBT conversion therapy isnt a good way to start a romance! And its rather repetitive when EVERYONE ELSE also has to go on fake dates with him, and Kiria also has the same 'i need to learn how to be Real Girl from your magical healing dick'. But its even more frustrating with her cos it actually literally is You Are Not Girl.Enough, and it came out of NOWHERE because she wasnt remotely tomboyish?? Like she's just..tough?? Tomboy = being stoic while also wearing super revealimg supermodel high heels and lingerie in battle, apparantly. And its so patronizing cos she's all uwuuuu protagoniiiist i need to be giiiirl~ Like super cutesy moe moe stereotype all of a sudden and of course it was her Real Personality and she was just keepinh it hidden because of all that societal pressure to be gender non conforming, of course! Help her embrace her true stereotypicality and cast away those absolutely minimal traits of non conformism! And then a creepily sexualized scene of her wearing a hello kitty mascot suit in a kids show. And speaking of which its so creepy they sexualize the actual kid too!! Theres a fucking ELEVEN YEAR OLD idol! And her manager 'uncle barry' keeps acting like a creepy pervy stalker fan and she's always all 'i love uncle barry he cares about me so much' and theres like multiple sidequests all about how uncle barry is great and she needs to appreciate him more. But serioisly are we just forgetting he was creeping over a keychain of her?? Like he was introduced so much before we ever saw her and from the pervy way he acted i thought she was meant to be some full grown woman in a gravure show rather than a goddamn 11 year old doing a microwave snacks cooking show with a muppet called microwave chan. And gahh when i saw her design i thought she was 15 at least! And everyone else looks in their 20s but apparantly theyre all underage too and the one who looks like an actual teenager is ELEVEN! they just casually drop in her profile that she's ELEVEN! a guy is perving on an eleven year old and we're meant to appreciate him more as a wholesome uncle???

...man..okay.. Anyway..

The game has a lot of creepy pervy moments BUT one bit in Eleonora's final date did make me feel a minor bit of genuine chemistry there. Or well, just a good romance dialogue from herand still zero personality or likeability from the actual protagonist. Alas!

Ok so it actually kinda sounds just as bad, tho. Out of context the idea of 'here's a quiz about everything we did in the previous dates' sounds kinda abusive. But in context its somehow adorable and wholesome?? Cos Ellie is the tsundere type, but she's one of the least assholish tsunderes ever. If the game wasnt constantly being all 'SHES SO RUDE AND UNGIRLY' and 'BLABLABLA RACISM' at her, i'd even say she's the most naturally written and likeable character! So in the context here its less "i will punish you for not being constantly the perfect boyfriend" and more "i genuinely cant believe you actually like me and im trying to run thru all the evidence in rapid fire while i have a conniption right here". Like man i wish protag had more personality cos its so annoying that he's super oblivious to her going into massive blush mode as she realizes he's ~so considerate and genuinely treasured all those dates~. Except he isnt, he's bland as fuck and gave no indication that he returned her feelings before now, or gave a shit about any of the stuff he apparantly remembered. And he only remembers because you the player did. And you can forget it all and get every question wrong and NOTHING CHANGES! i feel so sorry for her cos even if protag is a big douche she still decides he really does love her and it ends exactly the same.. GAHHHHH

POOR ELLIEEEEeee

So man even tho it was badly executed, i do still like the idea of a "w-wh-whaa, how can you love me?! Prove it with a 5 page thesis!" type moment with an adorkable grump! I might try and work in something similar with my oc Gremory! :3 (tho for him itd be a friendship/family version, not dating sim)

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unhealthyfanobsession · 7 years

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The Originals Season 5, Episode 1. Those Europe spoilers started my mind on a path I could not control and this was born. It is very rough but I just had to get it out of my head and onto a page. Enjoy my take on Klaroline’s first meeting since 2014.

Caroline is sitting in her office at the Salvatore boarding school having just done her final check to ensure everyone is in their rooms as they should be. It’s past curfew after all. She is about to start grading a few assignments when her cell phone rings. The word Rebekah takes over the entirety of her screen and for a moment she is confused. First, confused because she has changed phone’s so many times since she and Rebekah had last seen each other that she is shocked her number remains in the contacts (this confusion is quickly rectified when she realizes most of the Mikaelson’s are in there as emergency contacts for Hope). Second, because she hasn’t heard from or seen Rebekah in like a decade. It is curiosity more than anything that has her pressing the green “accept” button.

“Hello?” she asks cautiously

“Caroline” Rebekah says, her tone not snippy, sarcastic or bitchy, which surprises Caroline immensely. Perhaps the years have been a growing experience for the youngest original “how are you?”

She is taken aback by the question, the familiarity of it, as though they call each other all the time just to chat “I am alright, how are you Rebekah?” her voice comes out more formal than anticipated

“Could be better, and I am so hoping you will help with that” ah, there’s the Rebekah Caroline knows and kind of tolerated at one point

“Is this about Hope?”

“Indirectly, yes”

“Then I’m happy to help. Anything to make the students more comfortable”

“Oh I am so happy to hear you say that” Rebekah responds, mischief in her voice

“I feel as though I have walked into a trap” Caroline sighs

“Only if you consider an all expense paid first class trip to Barcelona a trap”

Caroline can feel her eyebrows raise “what’s the catch?”

“Well” Rebekah starts, and she sounds almost… desperate? If that is even something Rebekah can feel, she isn’t one for begging “the last time I spoke to Hayley she told me that Hop has been asking for um, her father a lot lately”

Caroline nods her head “of course she has, the man just up and disappeared for over half her life, personally I can’t relate to the idea of not seeing Klaus in a decade being a negative thing, but Hope is young still, she has much to learn”

“Well that is what I wanted to talk to you about” Rebekah says “as you know, my family must stay apart from each other to protect Hope-”

“Yes, I was glad to hear that the Mikaelson’s appear to be about as functional of a family as ever”

“We do what we have to” Rebbekah says darkly and Caroline feels a pang of guilt in her chest. This can’t be easy for them. Whatever else they are and however they torture each other, the Mikaelson’s love each other more than anything

“I’m not sure how this involves me”

“Klaus has decided to bugger off to Europe and be a gigantic self loathing ass, spewing some nonsense about Hope being better off without him and blah blah blah. He stopped taking my phone calls years ago but my sources tell me he is in Barcelona and since Hope is so distraught over him and I obviously cannot go to him myself and drag the pompous twat back to the continental USA, I was hoping you could act as my proxy”. Rebekah’s words click with the previous offer of an all expense paid trip and Caroline can feel the no ready to rip its way out of her throat, but Rebekah speaks again “Please, Caroline. You know I wouldn’t call you unless there was no other option, and you did say you would do anything for your students” she prattles on in such a syrupy sweet voice that Caroline can practically hear her eyelashes batting

“I don’t understand” she responds simply, pushing her hair out of her eyes “why me? Why not Hayley? Or that new magical Mikaelson that I heard popped up? Or even Kol’s wife for that matter- still super weird to say based on the Kol that I knew by the way- or literally anyone that he met, talked to, and had a relationship in the last decade”

Rebekah scoffs audibly “tell me Caroline, are you completely obtuse or are you simply trying to torture me by forcing me to say it out loud”

“Insults, awesome, what a fantastic way to treat someone you’re asking for a favor. Glad to see some things never change”

“You seriously don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?” Caroline growls, slightly frustrated by this point

Rebekah sighs, “everything I am about to say is for the good of my precious niece and in no way reflects my personal opinion of you, Caroline Forbes” she starts “he’s in love with you. He’s still in love with you. He never stopped being in love with you. Don’t ask me why but you and that stupid little town really did change him, for the better. He has never listened to anyone the way he listens to you. If I send Hayley or Freya to him he will just snap their neck and hop a plane to a new continent. He won’t do that to you, I know it. Furthermore, nobody talks to him the way you do- well, I have in the past but it’s gotten me a dagger to the chest” she pauses for a moment “there I said it. Are you happy?”

Caroline is stunned silent for a moment and when sound does leave her it is not what Rebekah was expecting. She laughs, like seriously laughs as though she has heard the funniest joke on the planet “are you insane?” she asks still laughing “he had a crush on me years ago, I doubt he’d even let me get a word out, there is absolutely nothing to stop him from snapping my neck.”

“I am not going to spend hours of my time on the phone trying to convince you that my brother is in love with you. I just need you to trust me when I say that I have known him a thousand years longer than you and trust me, he will not snap your neck”

Caroline sighs, not wanting to accept what Rebekah is saying so instead she changes the subject “even if I wanted to help you, I have a school to run, I can’t just abandon all my other students to go on a possible suicide mission to help one”

“I know he is human, but I should hope that Alaric can handle a school full of magical brats for a week”

Caroline sighs. Again. “Fine” she grits out “but mostly because I could really use a vacation. Also if Klaus kills me you have to donate 5 million dollars to the school so it doesn’t fall into disarray”

“I am not agreeing to that because if Klaus kills you I will die of shock before I can pay anything”

Caroline rolls her eyes “when do I leave”

Rebekah breathes out a thankful sigh of relief and says on a tone that is the most genuine Caroline thinks she has ever heard from the other blond “thank you”

XXX

When Rebekah said first class she really wasn’t kidding; limo to the airport, private pod on a massive commercial jet, lobster and champagne in the sky, complimentary facial kit (which she had used, life at home was so busy she always forgot how important little luxuries like a face mask can be). Unfortunately she cannot fully enjoy the experience because of the permanent knot in her stomach. Which really makes no sense because seriously, she should so not be nervous right now. Despite what she told Rebekah and perhaps even despite what she has always told herself, she knows that Klaus isn’t going to kill her. Snap her neck? Distinct possibility, but actually kill? Probably not.

That is even worse though, because it means that she is nervous to see him. It’s been so long, and she would be lying if she said there wasn’t an attraction there… at one point. Long ago. Definitely not anymore though. Nope. That was not an option, that was not the mission. That is not what she is here for.

This mantra runs through her mind for the rest of the flight and ride to her- unnecessarily extravagant- hotel. It doesn’t help the mantra stand that everything seems to remind her of him. Champagne on the flight, the pretentious art that covers the walls of her hotel, the Spanish men (or maybe she should say Catalonian? Another thing she hasn’t had time to fully keep up with, she will have to do her best not to stick her foot in her mouth while here) have an annoying habit of replicating Klaus’ laid back Henley and necklace style. Perhaps that’s why he likes it here so much. Even the annoying fact that the first time she is truly venturing out into the world is because of him forces her to think about declarations she had long since filed away. When she grabs her room key and the front desk lady’s sparkling diamond bracelet sends her thoughts swirling back to the man she shouldn’t be thinking about Caroline is convinced she has gone crazy. A diamond bracelet in a 5 star hotel was hardly a strange sight. She is just obsessing and it needs to stop.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” the woman asks, clearly uncomfortable that Caroline is so lost in another world.

She snaps out of it immediately and smiles “sorry, I’m a little jet lagged. No everything looks great” she says and then stops “oh if I want to call a car can I just charge that to the room?” she asks, because Rebekah was 100% paying for her to see some of the sights while she is here.

“Of course” the lady smiles “or if you want a little bit more of a novelty experience we also have horse and carriage rides that will take you through the old gothic side of the city”

“Of course you do” Caroline mutters, leaving the nice employee baffled as she slumps away to get into her room and fall asleep.

XXX

After she has slept, indulged in a delicious room service breakfast and wasted her morning on a little therapy in the hotel boutique/spa/salon, Caroline is feeling completely zen and borderline bullet proof. Which means now is probably as good a time as any to report for duty. She slowly pulls her cell phone out of her bag and clicks the top name in her recent calls.

“Did you find him yet?” Rebekah’s voice sounds in her ear

“No Rebekah, I’ve been here less than 12 hours and I have no idea where to look for him. That’s why I’m calling, how exactly am I supposed to locate Klaus?”

“Oh. Well, if I know Niklaus he is going to be with some witch trying to build another little army of lackies. It’s practically a hobby for him. Klaus and his witches” she shakes her head in disapproval

“Right, so this is my first time here- where do the witches hang out? I’ve done a lot of research but I feel like the gothic quarter is probably a little too on the nose right? I mean that’s going to be all tourists and fake psychics and stuff”

“True” Rebekah agrees “but in my experience the easiest place for real witches to hide is among the phonies-”

Before she can finish her sentence Caroline feels a tall man come up beside her, giving him a side eye she steps forward a couple paces but doesn’t get far as she feels his hand close around her wrist “one second” she says to the girl on the phone and turns around to stare at this very rude man “can I help you?” she snaps

“Why are you looking for Klaus Mikaelson?” he asks darkly, maintaining his vice grip

Caroline looks down at her wrist and then up at the man. She rolls her eyes and lifts the phone back to her ear “I’ll call you back Rebekah, I think I just found him” she hangs up and looks at the man “I’m an old friend”

“Follow Me,” he says, moving towards the door

“Sorry, I’m not in the habit of following strangers I just met into vehicles, you understand I’m sure”

“If you are truly a friend of Klaus’ you have nothing to fear from me. I am required to bring him anyone that is looking for him”

“So he can decide what to do with them” she nods, unsurprised

“You do know him,” the man confirms

Caroline rolls her eyes “unfortunately. Let’s go,” she says, following the man.

XXX

Rebekah was right, as it turns out, because the large black car that mystery vamp lackey had ushered her into stops in front of a large ornate home in the center of the gothic quarter. She rolls her eyes at the predictability of it all.

“Klaus did not answer his phone, please allow me to go in first and see if he is in the mood to receive company”

Caroline scoffs “yeah that’s not really how our relationship works” she says, stomping out of the car and heading straight for the door with mystery vamp trailing right behind her “lord knows he’s shown up in my life unannounced enough times” she mutters, lifting the ostentatious brass knocker and hitting it hard 3 times against the metal plate beneath it, sending a reverberation through the house that even she can hear from outside.

And yet, no answer comes. She waits several minuets, bangs it one more time and the man behind her shrugs “Perhaps try coming back in the evening”

“Yeah right” she says, twisting the knob, completely unsurprised to find the door unlocked. No one in the world can really hurt him and if anyone could, a lock certainly wouldn’t stop them. She is equally unsurprised by her lack of need for an invitation.

“This is really not a good idea” tall man says and Caroline rolls her eyes once again. They are getting quite the work out on this trip, she notes.

Caroline steps confidently into the foyer of the home and yells “Klaus” there is no answer but she can hear movement upstairs so she knows he is home “Klaus seriously, do not make me come and find you I have travelled quite far enough already” she says, the end of her words falling out as she hears the telltale whoosh of a vampire. She turns her head and sees him standing at the top of the stairs.

Utter shock and disbelief crosses over his face for perhaps one second before he manages to compose himself and simply say “Caroline”

“Um yeah, did you not hear me knocking on your ridiculously oversized metal knocker thing”

Klaus looks down at her, fixing a lazy, satisfied smirk on his face “of course I heard you, Caroline” he flashes down the stairs to stand right in front of her “I think the whole of Barcelona heard you”

Caroline scrunches her face up at him “cute” she says sarcastically “but I know how that one ends and unfortunately I don’t overly care if you are in the mood for company”

“On the contrary” he says, seeming overly chipper “I am always in the mood for your company, love”

“Well then how about you dismiss Creepy Mcstalker and we can have a proper conversation” she says, referencing the vampire still standing outside of the very open doorway

Klaus looks up, clearly having not even noticed his minion was there at all “you are dismissed, Charlie, excellent work” he says, directing the final words at Caroline

“Please, I would have found you on my own”

“I’m sure you would have, though I must say I am rather surprised you wanted to find me at all” he says on a low voice, eyes connecting with hers and drawing her in the way only he can, making her feel like a very willing prisoner inside of his gaze

She speaks quietly, and without breaking the connection “I’m actually not the one who wanted to find you” she says, the words managing to shake her out of it. She steps back, putting her hand on her hip as he tilts his head, clearly intrigued as to who is trying to find him “I’m a proxy”

Klaus barely moves, simply nods his head and tries (successfully) to catch her eyes again, moving in closer to her as he speaks “and here I was so hoping you were finally ready to take me up on my offer”

Caroline swallows hard “it hasn’t been a century yet”

“True” he laughs, stepping back casually “and yet here you are at my door, oh well. As you pointed out, still plenty of time for that” he waves his hand, stepping behind her to shut the door before turning back to face her “can I get you a drink? We can have a chat about who has contracted your assistance”

Caroline nods, slightly taken aback at how unfazed and accommodating he is being. For someone with minions trolling the streets to make sure he isn’t bothered and who doesn’t answer his door and who, above all, clearly does not want to be found- he is being awfully receptive to her barging into his hideaway. She shakes her head, refusing to overthink it and simply responds “anything but champagne”

Klaus smirks back at her and nods his head obligingly, gesturing towards the sitting room, which she enters and carefully sits down in a plush arm chair near the window, having only a moment to look around the room before he returns with a crystal tumbler of amber liquid in each hand. He passes one to Caroline and seats himself across from her.

Klaus sits, watching her for a few careful minuets before speaking “now why don’t you tell me all about who has enlisted you as a proxy, sweetheart. My first inclination would be a vamp friend in need of a cure for a nasty werewolf bite, but I can imagine that situation would have you in a slightly more urgent state so consider me intrigued”

“Rebekah called,” she says simply and that seems to drain the mirth from Klaus’ face

“I was unaware the two of you kept in contact” he states stiffly

“We don’t” she replies, “that’s how I knew how urgent the situation was, but I’m not really here for Rebekah either” she says

Realization seems to dawn on his face as Klaus puts all of the pieces together and there is a decided change in energy as his jaw tightens “Hope is better off without me Caroline, you should know that better than anyone”

“You aren’t Mikael,” she says quietly

“No” he replies, “I may actually be worse in some ways”

Caroline looks up at him, setting her drink down “don’t give me that crap Klaus. You love her, that’s all that matters. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done or what follows you or anything else. You love her and I know that because you are one of the most selfish people I have ever met and yet staying away from her is incredibly selfless” she pauses for a moment “but also stupid-” she tries to begin again and is cut off

“I think I know what is best for my child moreso than you do Caroline” he growls

“Are you sure about that? Because only one of us in this room has watched her grow up for the past 8 years. Only one of us has watched her learn and been there on every birthday. Only one of us has walked past her room at night and heard her crying on the phone to her mother about why her dad left. Only one of us really knows her. And it isn’t you” she glares down at him, watching him clench his fist, feeling that he is about to lash out. She only has minuets to get what she wants to say out before Klaus is gone and the monster takes over.

She steadies her emotions and reaches for his hand, forcing him to look at her as she continues “speaking as a girl who was once 17 with a less than perfect dad, I promise that whatever it is about you that makes you think she’s better off without you, she isn’t. You’ve killed people, you have a temper, you’ve tortured people, I get it. But my father didn’t just torture people, he tortured me. Like literally, in a dungeon, vervain ropes, burnt skin, the works. He tortured me for days and I still know I would never have been better off without him. I love him. A girl needs her father” she says “ and I don’t want to hear about all the horrible things you have done. I was there for some of your most horrible moments. You are not a good person” she says point blank, no need to sugar coat it “but you could be. I’ve seen you be selfless, I’ve seen you be caring, I know you love your family, I know you love Hope” she says “and if that isn’t enough” she sighs, standing up “well too damn bad because after a thousand years it’s time to grow the hell up and just do what you are supposed to do. Got it” she says, pointing a finger menacingly at him

“That was a lot of information all at once, sweetheart” he says

“Yeah well you were getting murder eyes and I knew I was losing my chance. If I’m going to die I’m sure as hell at least getting my point across”

“I would never hurt you,” he says, not for the first time since they’ve known each other

“I know” she replies quietly “that’s why Rebekah sent me” she looks up at him again “but don’t you think if you can make that promise to me, you can make it to your daughter? The person you love more than anyone in the world”

That seems to take him aback “I suppose you do have a point” he admits

“Of course I do, I always have excellent points”

Klaus stands, moving closer to her, lifting a hand to brush a curl out of her face, leaving his hand nestled against her neck as he speaks “when are you leaving?”

Caroline takes a deep breath in, trying not to think about the fireworks igniting on her skin where his fingers touch her “Sunday” she breathes

Klaus nods “I will com with you” he says “on one condition”

“I swear to god Klaus if you ask for a confession I’m going to break your neck”

he laughs, shaking his head “no” he assures her “though it is nice to know where your mind is at” he smirks “I simply want you to agree to let me show you the city”

“Oh” she says, once again taken aback “I suppose that would be alright” he smiles at her answer and she can’t help but return it.

In the days that follow Caroline would flip back and forth on whether she was more excited that she managed to accomplish her goal or angry at how increasingly obvious it was that Rebekah had been right. About everything.

#klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #the originals #caroline forbes #klaus mikaelson #niklaus mikaelson #klaus and caroline #klarolineauweek #jk #BECAUSETHISSHITISREAL

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