#call me french the way i always type non instead of no

[lenteur]

random thoughts about tell me that you love me, episode three

(the rest is under the cut because i'm worried about your eyes having to read ALL OF THAT and this post might contain spoilers)

So cha jin woo wasn't born deaf. His hearing disability was due to a sudden high fever when he was younger. I'm glad the drama told us about that and didn't let us guess for longer.

Seeing mo eun being curious about jin woo is beautiful to see. She's interested in "listening to" his story, a thing that not a lot of people leeting jin woo must do. I'm not entirely sure what motivated her in the beginning but I'm impressed to see her learn so many things for him. Witnessing little snippets of jin woo's life, she realizes how different both their lives are, and how the world is not really deaf people friendly.

I'm liking Yoon Johan in this episode. He's quirky and funny.

I don't know if I've said this enough times but I am enjoying the fact mo eun is trying to involve cha jin woo in as many hobbies as she can. Even when he says no, she tries to do something that he likes instead. It's very heartwarming to see that.

Seeing jin woo refuse to go with mo eun because he doesn't want her to "be with someone she has to be considerate towards" (quoted from the drama) makes me think of the conversation he had earlier (in the episode) with his friend. His friend thinks jin woo is not warmhearted, so then we see jin woo say that the people around him will feel cold. Maybe that's why he doesn't want people to get closer to him? In a sense I think jin woo is protecting himself because he doesn't want to have very deep feelings for someone (whether friendship or love). The closer he gets to someone, the more he risks of developing strong feelings and in return he's scared of becoming a burden. Ever since he was seven, jin woo has had to develop strategies to live his life despite his disability. We've seen so many examples: using his phone to communicate with others, keeping a distance from others on the street so he doesn't bump into them, etc. His eyes have become his ears (his alarm being a shining light, listening to people by reading their lips). I imagine this must have been very hard for him so, to add someone to his daily life seems like another mountain to move. He knows how hard it is to live with a disability (because he's lived with one for majority of his life) so he can imagine how much more difficult it could be to live (as in both in the same house and like being friends/sharing moments) with a disabled person. The most obvious obstacles being communication and the fear of becoming a burden. At first, it could be all good but then, as time passes, the able person could become increasingly annoyed at all the times they have to help the disabled person for any type of task (in the worst case scenario). Let's not forget the disabled people who want to live life with as little help as possible. Living is already hard enough on its own, let's not add being a burden to that. I do hope jin woo will ease off on the pressure and try to open his heart to love.

I'd just like to clarify the last sentence. I do know and agree with the fact that people can be happy without having a romantic partner. It's just that jin woo seems closed off to love because he doesn't want to be a bother. That's what makes me sad about that. I'm not against the idea of him finding love, but if he doesn't want to that's fine too.

Another fave character ji yu. Both her and johan are the funniest characters of the drama.

I knew the jaden thing was a hoax. But I still found ji yu's reaction hilarious lmao

Hearing mo eun reassure her mom that "she's been doing well lately" when in reality it's the opposite tore my heart. She was so excited to finally have a role with a line to recite... and then on shooting day, she learns someone else has the same role so she's not sure if she'll appear on screen. Standing there all day just to say her line, get splashed with alc*h*l and being slapped so many times she started to bruise. Hearing mo eun being on the verge of tears while on the phone with her mom makes me want to give her a big hug.

Mo eun crying behind jin woo's back... she doesn't want to appear weak in front of anyone.

This was one emotional episode.

I'm giving this one a 8.5/10

[cheesebrackers]

DARK MOON RAMBLE TIME

these questions and theories have been typed down by me in the span of 4 days (4 days of info/questions)

(theory about why all possessors are heavier than gobbers)

This is very random but I was thinking about this and got two vague theories

1 the dark moon shard 2 the fact that it's technically 3 ghosts

1 maybe the dark moon shard has a spectral weight that exceeds the average weight of a ghost. Why would it have a spectral weight? No idea, the dark moon is a confusing thing, but its properties are related to ghosts, so who knows

2, Well, it's always 3 ghosts technically. There's not much to say about that but it could be a possibility

Maybe both

Also it's probably that Nintendo just thought making the bosses have more shit than other ghosts was a good idea and it has nothing to do with whatever I just said but I'm here to fill plotholes

(questionment)

How did he (a strong sneaker) go through the wall with the rotor? Ive seen ghosts go through walls with objects (ex; the 4 slammers in the gloomy manor) but ive also seen some be unable to do so, like that greenie in the old clockworks who tried to go through a door but slammed himself against it because he had a bucket on his head and for some reason that couldnt go thru the wall

(After asking myself what relationship boos and other ghosts are like, later getting two answers somehow)

Another detail i noticed that really doesnt matter at all! The english version says boos dont get along with powerful ghosts, while the french one says they dont get along with any other ghost, MOSTLY the powerful ones

I know theyre under control but i refuse to believe all boos dislike might other ghosts if you I cabt trust the old egg all the time, plus boos are very much sentient beings, so not all of them think the same Psychoanalysis of mario boos

(about boos and nebulospheres/spirit balls)

In english, e.gadd says boos probably got the ability to use nebulospheres from someone, because they didnt just start doing that like its nothing, implying they couldnt do that before (im not calling them spirit balls fuck you) (btw nebulosphere is the french name for them)

In french, its implied they could already use nebulospheres, but didnt do it as much right now

That brings me to yet another question Does the dark moon affect boos? Probably, in the way that they are most likely controlled by king boo instead of just being told orders, as implied by the nebulospheres thing. They werent harmless like other ghosts, but surely they werent THAT obedient.

But im not sure

(this one is older and maybe I've already said it but this is about ghosts and where they may come from)

I've been kinda wondering about something. I settled on the theory that non-humanoid looking ghosts aren't dead people, just made up mfs

But, in dark moon ok, Belinda, Lucinda and Herlinda aren't human looking. That's for sure. No one is shaped like that, it fits the style of the other ghosts

But. They are hinted to be dead, as shown in the haunted towers

There's three pictures, each showing a woman that fits the physical traits of each sister

And now I'm confused. again im very sure nintendo doesnt actually give a shit about logic and just made this shit for fun but listen im autistic

My friend at school said maybe king boo is the core of ghost creation because of a portal he made in the treacherous mansion that caused the "paranormal chaos" (several wave of ghosts in different locations with a timer which you CANNOT FAIL ONCE), but that can't be true, because they have been in evershade valley before kb fucked everything up

[thanakite]

When I was in high school I took a health/PE class to fill part of my PE credit (do not recommend, it was supposed to be for non-athletic kids, it didn't turn out that way) and at the end of the year the teacher decided that for the "end of the year in-class party" we HAD to make something from our family's "culture" and write a paper on what we chose and why

Now, I put culture in quotes because while my school had some diversity, this class did not. Most of us were born and raised in this school district and the few who weren't were simply from elsewhere in Colorado. All of our parents had been born and raised in the US, none of us HAD a family culture (The US has a distinct lack of an actual culture expect in select areas), but his INTENTION was looking into our family histories. Despite that, it was not his actual WORDS, so I fucked around a bit with the assignment in a way where I still got a good grade

See, my mom is 1/2 Polish and 1/2 Serbian, so I'm a quarter of each of those, which is pretty simple but the potential dishes I could have 'made' (please I was going to buy something, I can and do cook but I was already at a point where it was a struggle to get from day-to-day, I wasn't adding cooking for my classmates to it, since I couldn't make brownies for it (the family go to for such things)) from either of them either weren't easily available to me, weren't commonly eaten by my family, or weren't easily available at that time of year. My dad's side of the family though is a complete shit show, to the extent that he GOT DNA testing done (he and his brother as his brother got it for them to do 1 year), and they determined that they were like small percentages of a lot of different places, like 1/14 Irish, 1/14th French, 1/14th Dutch, and so on and so forth and that's THEM! Meaning I'm even smaller percentages of these!

So I was at first like, "Whatever, I'll pick up danishes and call it a day" but as it got closer it kept bugging me since really I'm not all that Danish. Then like a week before one of my classmates says she's bringing danishes which finally tipped me over the edge. I ended up picking up an apple pie and wrote my paper on being an American instead, because I don't belong to any of those cultures, sure I've visited some of those places but realistically their experiences and mine were and are different

The paper was all about how the US is a melting pot where people really might not know their family's culture/history and even if they do it doesn't always mean that's how they experience that culture here, how I may know my family history but that most of my connection is through my mom since my dad's side is so blended (but like the blandest blending since it's just a bunch of types of white people) and even then there is only so much that it can be and is a part of me (especially where we live as there isn't the community here like there was where she grew up in Michigan), and how incredibly shortsighted this assignment was, and how it really could have been us bringing in a dish our families love and explaining the history (both personal and cultural) behind the dish, since it's not like we were finding out anything actually helpful about our families and their histories doing this assignment (I later found out about half the class just lied since their families straight up didn't know where their families came from, most of the others were in similar boats to me and the ones who actually had a good significant family connection just learned more about a specific country and 1 specific dish from it, not their family itself)

I got an A on the paper, everyone enjoyed the store bought pie and I never had to deal with that teacher again (which I was grateful for as I hated him)

It's my understanding that he didn't have that assignment in subsequent classes

[folkloreguk]

French Class [7]

A/N: AAAH I apologize in advance for this part bc I feel like it's kinda messy :/ I hope you still like it though?? Lmk what you think! x

genre: optional bias (m) x reader (f), fwb, f2l?, college!au, fuckboy!bias, nerd!reader, angst, H/N is a jealous and drunk fool :/

words: ~ 3.7 k

✽series masterlist✽

taglist (lmk if u wanna be added!): @lovely-ateez, @runaway-fics, @mainexiii, @awfullytiredbuthealing, @erikyoong, @etherealuv, @yeostars, @staysuki, @justcuz-ican, @hyuckthangs, @teenloves, @mexious18-blog, @sunghoonied, @mailobjaeyoon, @tr-wemoon, @prismwon

couldn’t tag: @chorizoek, @r-eadings

H/N’s POV:

Maybe I’ll come ‘round, your text had said. How did you expect him to enjoy the party if you wouldn’t be there? H/N used to make fun of guys who ran after girls like lap dogs. And yet, over time he had become one of them, if not worse. Every text, every possibility of seeing you had him on the edge of his seat in excitement. There was nothing he cared about more than spending time with you. When at first it had been sexual attraction – an obsession with your body and the way you turned him on with the most subtle words and touches – it had changed into something entirely different. The relentless hunger was now occasional, ever so often interrupted by a dire wish to see you smile. A wish to hold you, and to kiss you out of the blue – something he wasn’t allowed to do if it wasn’t for the two of you hooking up. The stupid agreement you had made was starting to feel like torture instead of heaven. He was lucky his poker face was professional, and he had years of practice in flirting and sounding casual even if his heart was beating up to his neck. There was no other way he could have concealed how infatuated he was with you, otherwise.

“H/N, come help me set up the snacks!” Korain shouted from the kitchen. H/N’s friends were throwing a party at their place, and he had shown up early to assist them in preparing everything. With you on his mind – as always – he trotted into the kitchen where a row of bowls was standing out on the counter.

“Just open and pour the bags into the bowls, will you? I still need to get ready,” Korain said. “Chohee said she might be here a bit earlier, and I don’t want to look like this when she’s going to look amazing.”

Korain gestured to his bed hair he probably hadn’t brushed once since getting up and then tweaked the fabric of his sweatpants and his old, baggy tee. H/N wanted to argue that if Chohee really liked Korain, she wouldn’t mind seeing him this way. H/N, for one, couldn’t care less what you wore tonight. As long as you showed up at all, he would be beaming. Strictly speaking, at times when he got to see you wake up, sleep in your eyes and your clothes in a disarray, it spun his head in ways no little black dress could ever do. When he saw you make breakfast in his kitchen, in his shirt, he could barely contain himself.

His daydreams of you were once naughty and gave him boners at random times of the day – and don’t get me wrong, they still were, sometimes – but it was when the domestic dreams had begun, that he realized he was screwed. He didn’t need anybody to tell him how he felt, nor did he have some crazy moment of clarity. There came a point in his days where he didn’t just notice his non-sexual daydreams of you, he invited them. His brain was imagining things like setting up a shared table for dinner or kissing the back of your hand in the dark of a movie theater or playing you a cheesy song that reminded him of you. He wanted to hold your hands from across the library table and have his arm around your shoulders to show you off to the entire campus. But none of it could be real. It all went against the rules.

“Will Y/N be here too?” Korain asked and pulled H/N out of his daydreams. God, I hope so, he thought.

“She said she might be here,” H/N answered.

“Chohee’s always talking about her. And you. About how she thinks Y/N has a crush on you, but she always denies it, saying you’re just friends. Maybe you could try and bring that up tonight?” Korain said, as if discussing your feelings for someone was as easy at conversing about the weather. “Alright, I really have to go get ready now.”

“I’ve been thinking, I might- “ said H/N, but Korain only pat his shoulder.

“Let’s talk later, at the party, okay?” he said, and walked out the kitchen. I might like her, H/N had been meaning to say. I might like Y/N. No. I’m in love with her. No maybes. He could bet all his money on it, that’s how sure he was. But his friend had disappeared and now it was on him to wait until the party began. Left alone with his thoughts.

Of course, you would deny having a crush on him. Because you probably didn’t, he thought. Wouldn’t you search for a smart guy, someone your mother would approve of, and someone who understood your endless talks of nerdy topics? Although sometimes he had no idea what you were on about, H/N was captivated whenever you gave him a lecture about something you had learned. And when he asked you to explain something one more time, you never hesitated, or judged him for it. Your kindness made his heart swell, and only when the first crowd of party guests arrived did he realize he had spent half an hour daydreaming about you. Again.

With the way he kept the front door in his sight at all times, one could have wondered if he was a highly wanted criminal on the run, afraid the cops could barge in at any moment. Some of the girls who tried to flirt with him even asked him about it, but he wasn’t going to confess he was waiting for the love of his life to walk through that very door. With little conviction he returned their flirting. He hated himself for the thoughts he had. Thinking that should you not arrive, he could console himself by taking one of the other girls home instead. They didn’t deserve to be used like that, but he was bitter and so, so in love with you. It was hard to pay any attention to the other girls at all, no matter how sweet they were being.

Flirting back at them, however, came to him as easily as the words to his favorite songs. It posed no challenge, like it did with you. When he had to try hard to make your cheeks heat up, or to lure out a shy smile instead of your genius, quick-witted remarks. There was nothing more exciting to him than to invent new ways in which he could make you flustered.

Right now, it was his turn to be flustered. Because his ex had approached him and was reciting some of her favorite memories she had of their relationship. “Remember our third date…the one that ended with us squished in that tiny dressing room at Victoria’s Secret?” she asked and blinked at him expectantly. He went along with her words and replied something not too direct, but still enough to make her giggle like a little girl.

It was his own fault she was so intent on talking to him. While you had been on your date with the economy-major-guy, H/N had tried to contact his ex again. In hindsight, he thought it pathetic and extremely stupid at that. Nothing would have come of it, anyway. Not while he felt the way he did about you. So it was only lucky his ex hadn’t been free that night. Then he had gotten dangerously close to drowning his feelings in the vodka in his kitchen. Thankfully he had refrained from this, too, because you had shown up afterwards and you had ended up having mind-blowing sex, and he knew for a fact that had he been drunk, he would have blurted out some crazy sentiments he would have regretted saying in the morning.

Sometimes he tried to signal you his emotions, ever so subtly. Waving off your claims when you called him the campus fuckboy or telling you he wasn’t really hooking up with anyone else besides you, it all was an attempt at making you see what he felt for you. He would tell you that you looked pretty, not just so you would understand he liked you, but simply because it had to be said. When he regarded you fixing your hair in the mirror with a frown, he could barely believe you didn’t know how beautiful you were. And he had gotten closer to you during sex. Whether it was voluntary or an instinct that came with being in love, he wasn’t certain. There was nothing like kissing away your moans while he fucked you into a mattress.

He was about to text you – the urge to see you getting unbearable – but didn’t want to sound clingy when you strut through the door. No slow motion or fan blowing your hair around dramatically would have made you look more perfect. The ridiculous pang he felt in his heart when he saw you hug another guy only reminded him of how whipped he was. He reminded himself that he had no right to be jealous. You weren’t his girlfriend, after all. When you then made eye contact with him and made a beeline for him, he was worried he’d be short of words. He needed to pull himself together.

“Hi,” you said, and your smile was magical enough to stir up the butterflies in H/N’s stomach. You pointed at the empty spot on the sofa between H/N and another guy you didn’t know. “Is this seat taken?”

“No,” the guy said, before H/N had time to speak, and the stranger smiled at you in a way that could only mean he wanted to get to know you. But H/N caught your attention by swiftly putting his arm around your shoulder, making the stranger back up and divert his eyes the other way. He had never meant to be the jealous type. It was just that you were finally here, and he was so happy to see you, he couldn’t bare the thought of you running off again. Only when you gave him a funny look H/N realized he needed to calm down if he didn’t want you to get annoyed.

“So, what did I miss?” you asked.

His ex was approaching from across the room again, and before he could have stopped his mouth, he said the stupidest thing. “Kiss me.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, but he was intent on it. “Please. Kiss me. Quick.”

There was a strange emotion that crept over your face, and you seemed to have no clue why he was so set on it. Nevertheless, you did as he asked. Your mouth tasted of watermelon bubblegum, so sweet, so perfect, and he was flying on cloud nine for the short while it lasted. It wasn’t real, though. The thought stabbed his brain like a dagger. When you pulled apart you were grinning, and his ex wasn’t in the room anymore.

“Care to explain why we just did that?” you asked. “You’re diminishing your chances with the ladies in the room.”

He rolled his eyes. “My ex has been trying to get with me again, and I hoped she’d let off if she saw us kiss. And she did.” Then his eyebrows raised. “What do you mean by my chances with the ladies? I was hoping we could go home together.”

“I can’t tonight,” you said, and he had to fight to keep his face straight. “I’ve got to get back to studying first thing tomorrow morning. I just came here to hang out, for a while.”

“Oh,” was all he could muster without sounding like you were ripping out his heart. It wasn’t even your fault. He would never try and get between you and your studies. But what if he could be there? What if he could be the one staying in bed, watching as you climbed up early to bury your head in books? He’d watch you through tired eyelashes, and you’d ridicule him for being so starry-eyed when looking at you. Later he’d bring you tea or coffee and remind you to take a break to eat. Was it ludicrous to obsess over something so domestic? He didn’t feel guilty for it.

All at once, your laugh pulled him out of his daydream, and into a funny story you told him. Over-consciously, he noted how your arm went around his shoulder lazily. And for a while you sat and talked. Occasionally a flirty remark slipped over your lips, and he would always return it. It was idiotic, but he was already worrying about how much he would miss you once you went home. Perhaps his plan of consoling himself with another girl hadn’t been so bad, after all. Just as he had finished the thought, a familiar face walked by and noticed him. The alcohol in his veins made her seem perfectly inviting as a distraction, for later.

“Oh, hey. Y/N, this is Minji,” he said, pointing at the girl. “Minji, this is Y/N. She’s…just a friend.”

Instantly, you removed your arm from his shoulder. There was hidden pain in your gesture, or was it merely wishful thinking on his side? Minji nodded and greeted you, but you only waved her off with a polite smile.

“I’m going to get a drink from the kitchen,” you announced, and before he could have stopped you, you had walked off. For a while he chatted with Minji, because he had no good reason to run after you that wouldn’t create awkwardness. His patience lasted approximately ten minutes. Luckily, a friend waved at Minji from across the room and she excused herself. Although he would never wish her ill, he was glad she was leaving.

Quickly, he made his way to the kitchen, where he found you talking to a guy. Without thinking, H/N smiled at you as he came up to you and wrapped his arm around your waist. He hadn’t meant to look so intimidating, and he hadn’t meant to be an asshole either. Yet, the guy across from you appeared scared and when you turned your attention to H/N, the guy slowly retracted into another circle of chatting people. Guilt crept in on H/N. He was tipsy, and although he knew his drunkenness wasn’t an excuse, it made him want you so much more. Perhaps it was also insecurity making him act crazy. There was always a glimmer of hope in the back of his mind, that you might just like him back. So long as you hadn’t confirmed the opposite, he would live in constant terror that someone else could steal your attention and make you theirs before he could.

“Come with me,” you muttered in his ear. Your hand was around his wrist, and he had no choice but to trot after you like a child. At first, he thought you were going to take him out the front door, but then you made a turn for the stairs. He didn’t need to be a fuckboy to know what it meant when a girl walked him up the stairs. From one second to the other, his mood changed into gleefulness. Had you changed your mind? The mere thoughts of what could happen upstairs could have given him a boner, had he pondered on them for longer. You said nothing, only driving him more insane by the second. The first open door was good enough for you, so you pulled him inside and closed it behind you. Smirking, he reached for your waist, ready to pull you into a kiss.

“Don’t,” you hissed, and he flinched at your angry tone. He kept his hands to himself, kneading them nervously. Shit. This was the clear opposite of what he had anticipated. The two of you had never fought, and hearing your voice, sounding so deeply upset, scared him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you asked.

“I’m sorry, I thought you wanted to make out- “ he said.

“I don’t mean just now. I mean…what is it you’re trying to achieve by acting all possessive over me in front of random guys? Pretending I belong to you? But the second a pretty girl is in front of you I’m just a friend, aren’t I? What’s that about?”

There was no explaining this, and he knew it. Yet, he would try, pathetically. “I just thought you didn’t want those guys bothering you.”

“I can handle a guy by myself, thank you,” you snapped. “If I needed help, I’d ask. Like you did. Apparently, I’m good enough to be used as an escape from your ex, but when hot Minji came around you wouldn’t even blink when I got up and left.”

“Usedas an escape?” he asked in disbelief. “You didn’t have to kiss me, but you did anyway.”

“That’s because I was trying to be a good fucking friend!” you yelled now, sounding over the music from the party.

“You used me too, don’t you remember?” he countered. “Or did you not show up on my doorstep after your terrible date so I would fuck you and make you feel better?”

You looked taken aback for a moment, knowing he was right, in a way.

“It’s like you’re always trying to get away from me, but you can’t,” he said.

“Oh, fuck you!” you said, every trace of guilt washed away. “Get off your high horse! Isn’t that the whole point of us? That we’re using each other for sex? Nothing more than that, right? If I walked out now, you could go and find the next girl in line to take over instead of me. Didn’t you try to see someone while I was chatting to the guy I went on a date with? It’s all about using people, isn’t it? If things with the guy had gotten more serious for me, you’d have her, ready for you. Don’t you think that’s a little messed up? Leading someone on like that?”

There was truth to your words. He had tried to find someone to date, should you have found someone too and your friends-with-benefits relationship had been over. But he hadn’t led her on. He had been honest in letting the girl know he wasn’t sure if he wanted anything serious. His chest was hurting, and the pain was only making him more furious.

“Yeah, I could have switched you for her,” he said coldly. Was he only trying to hurt you now? Perhaps, but you had hurt him first.

“Right, because that’s all I am to you,” you said, quieter than before.

“That was our plan! You’re my fuck buddy, nothing more!” he raised his voice now, tired of your empty words and signs. “You have no right to accuse me of anything when I’m playing by the rules. The rules you made. Maybe we should go back to the beginning. Start the game over. I don’t even know what we’re arguing about right now.”

“Start over?”

“Go back to when we were just horny for each other and nothing else,” he said, as if that would be possible. As if he could ignore the way your eyes shined, even in the dim light coming from the streetlamps outside. Like he could pretend he didn’t want to hold you and make you forget all about this terrible fight.

“Fine, let’s try,” you said, and he watched in astonishment, as you closed the gap between the two of you. When you tilted your head, he gave you permission by doing the same. When you kissed, with teeth clashing and exhausted sighs mixing up, he swore there were bombs going off somewhere in his head. Alarm bells, too. This was by no means a great idea. But what could have stopped him and his hungry mouth? He backed you against the wall and pressed you into it, hard. Before he had registered it, his hands were pushing up the fabric of your dress and you moaned, sounding so beautiful he could barely believe it. One of his thighs forced its way between your legs while he gripped your waist like his life depended on it.

But then, just as rapidly you had begun to kiss him, you pushed him away. His lungs felt tight when he noticed the affliction and confusion on your face. He wished he could make it go away. But he had caused it, so now his presence only made things worse.

“No- no, I change my mind. This is fucking stupid,” you said. “I can’t do this right now.”

“Y/N,” he said in a gentle tone. Somehow, it seemed that his careful voice hurt you most of all.

“I think we should stop. All of this,” you said. He was beginning to shake his head in disbelief, but you cut him off. “We said there wouldn’t be jealousy, but there obviously is. We should have stopped long ago.”

“But what about starting the game again, from the beginning?” he asked, too afraid of what you would say to even look at you. If you were going to rip out his heart you should have done so quickly, when he wasn’t paying too close attention.

“The game’s over. This is going over both of our heads,” you said. “I- I’m going to go home now.”

So this was heartbreak. H/N had never considered that it could be meant so literally. But he could swear that the muscle inside his chest was convulsing and shriveling as if you had stolen the blood that kept him alive right from his arteries. The pain was sharp like a thousand cuts had been inflicted on his skin, and he struggled for words like your words had taken every of his most elemental abilities.

“I’ll walk you home,” he said.

“No,” you said. “You’re drunk. You’re the one who could need someone to walk you home. And I don’t want you around me right now. Get home safely.”

That was it. No hug. No last, longing look. Just your words stabbing like knives and your ethereal beauty as you turned on your heel and walked from the room, leaving him behind, bleeding out by himself. What had he done?

[starconsumer444]

Sakusa Kiyoomi (18+)

A/N: This is actually like??? Fucked up, but it’s stated that I write dark content (in my pinned), even then, I know it may still come as a shock to some people?? So, it’s only fair warning if I put this disclaimer here telling you its !!MESSED UP!! You’ll come to find out later on that this is fairly on brand for me tho...so yeah. I had fun writing this even though I’m sure the proofreading on this is jackshit.

(CW/TW: Yandere!Sakusa, “Master” as a Name You Call Him, Kidnapping, Semi-Stockholm Syndrome, Abuse, Implied Non-con, GN!Reader, Belting, Degradation, Being Forced To Wear A Maid Dress Regardless Of Gender [Forced Feminization??], Implied Enforced Line of Sight [Sakusa Doesn’t Typically Let You Look Him In The Eye], Abuse, A Knife [Wielded with... Murderous Intent], Lots Of Crying, Literal Drowning, Please tell me if I missed something...)

A rush of hot panic runs through your body as you hear the locks on the front door clicking open. You want to run, but it’s like your feet are cemented to the polished ceramic floor in front of the sink where you stand. 

You still have so many unwashed dishes. The water still runs when it should’ve been done well before he got here, like it typically is. It sounds so loud along with your heart beat in your ears and the shutting of the front doors. You know you're in trouble-- know there’s no way out of it and still you press on in hopes that maybe he’ll have mercy when he see’s you trying to be good. You know it’s no use though, it’s always been no use.

You should be waiting for him by the door, on your hands and knees, but you’re not. You’re pathetic, tears starting to stream down your face as you anxiously scrub away at a sullied plate from last night.

He let you off the hook last time, he’s not going to do it again, you know. But you can’t do this anymore, you want to go home. You want to go home so bad.

You grab a large carver knife from the drying rack as you hear his footsteps behind you. You’re done with this; you’ve been trapped in this hellhole with him long enough. It’s time that you free yourself.

You’ve told yourself that so many times before.

“Can’t do simple tasks?” He sounds so close; dangerously close. You turn around to find that he is.

You hold the knife flat to your chest, or rather the fabric of your French maid outfit that he forces you to wear around the house when you're busy. His face is indifferent-- annoyed actually. 

“You get one chance.” He huffs out. “Put the knife down now and I won’t factor that into your punishment.” His speech is slow, careful, like he’s talking to a child.

“You’re gonna hurt me,” You try to stable your voice, wiping away your still falling tears with one shaky hand and pointing the tip of the knife at your kidnapper. He only steps forward, caging you in between him and the sink, tip of the knife pressed to his chest. “Sakusa, please-” You say as he reaches behind you to turn the tap off, and you recoil out of habit. 

“What did you just call me?” He stares down at you and you can only look down at the knife between you and him.

“I’m sorry, master.”

“Put the knife down.” He grabs your jaw with savage strength, pulling you onto the tips of your toes. Still you don’t let go of the knife, tip now pointed at his sternum. “Drop it.”

You shake your head as best you can, eye’s meeting his for the first time in a while, this can be your way out. It’s been months of his senseless torture. Days on end without eating, violating your body over and over, watching you shower, making you clean everything the way he likes it...you can’t stand it anymore. If you have to smell bleach for one more day, you’ll be sick. You can’t do it. Your body is worn out and you know you can’t fight him, but you have to try, right?   

“Fine,” He throws your frail form away from him, effectively slamming your backside into the sink counter. “Stab me. Do it. Now.”

Your tears start to fall harder now, blurring your vision. You don’t bother wiping them though, you just reach behind you to sooth your lower back as your knees hit the ground with a painful thump. Your curl into yourself, body wracking with sobs, as you hold up the knife to offer it to him. You know he’s unaffected by your show, he’s probably looking at you with that same avidly disinterested gaze he always does, as he watches you crying into the skirt of your dress. You can’t help it though, defeat and shame run through your body like fire.

You feel him slide the knife out of your hand, and the sound of it clattering into the sink reasonates, bringing on a new type of heartbreak.

Why did you give up? This could’ve been your chance? Your chance to kill him. To run away and never look back. Why did you give up? Do you hate yourself?

You don’t bother trying to fight it when he drags you up by your hair, telling you how stupid and useless you are. You can hear the faucet running again and you can feel him jerk your head back uncomfortably.

“Where were you planning on going?” He prods in all his sick glory. “We’ve watched the news together, they’re not looking for you.” He says as he pulls you backwards under the flow of the water. You weren't going to answer anyway.

You thrash about violently and you feel him press his torso against you. At the very least you want your feet on the floor, but with the way he’s holding you it’s impossible. And he must’ve put the stopper in because you stupidly gasp for air and catch nothing but water in your mouth, too urgent to notice the water coming above your face. Now you’re choking underneath him with no escape, you’re desperate and trying your hardest to pull yourself out of his grip. He’s always been too strong for you.

You kick at him, try to scream, try to bring your head up from such an uncomfortable angle...everything. It’s all useless. You feel him latch onto your throat to hold you under even tighter and all you can manage to do while you flail about is dig your nails into his forearm.

Your lungs are burning, your stomachs empty, you’re stuck here, why are you fighting? What is there to fight for?

He holds you under for about a minute, barely even struggling against your incessant kicking and scratching. When he cuts off the water and finally drags you up, you’re coughing up water until you dry heave, falling forward once more when he lets your hair loose.

You fall on all fours in front of him, lightheaded and swearing to yourself that you’re gonna vomit. Nothing ever comes up, and for that you’re thankful. Stomach acid on his floor would’ve angered him more and you know it. You try to crawl away, to catch your breath, hoping that this is all over. He just drags you back by your ankles, telling you to stay on your hands and knees, and pushing up your dress to reveal your underwear.

“No one wants a dumbass like you, don’t you get it?”

You know.

“This is where you belong.” You can hear the jingle if his belt coming undone. “You’re not a bad housekeeper, it’s just times like this.” He sounds so far away, like he’s not destroying you more and more the longer this goes on.

“I give a worthless fuck like you, who doesn’t wake up on time to do simple tasks, purpose and you want to stab me?” He chuckles to himself. “Pull your underwear down.”

You comply, moving one shaking hand back to pull them down with several hesitant jerks filled with urgency.

“I fuck you, I feed you, I give you a roof over your head...everything... I give you something to do with your pathetic life and you want to run...” You know not to say a word back. “You can’t even wake up on time to get your work done before I get here and you think you can run?!” He laughs darkly before you feel a sharp stinging pain travel across your ass accompanied by a loud cracking sound.

The belt sends your body forward in pure agony. You don’t even scream, just let out an open mouthed whimper and move back into place for him to lash you again. You deserve it.

You can hear him snicker evilly at your submissive display.

“Count.” He demands.

“One.” You whine.

THWACK

“Two.”

THWACK

“Three.” And tears start to fall.

You reach twenty and by then you’re flat, faced down on the ground, begging for his mercy.

“Please, master,” You inhale, trembling from his harsh mistreatment. You’re sure you have bruising welts on your ass, and its going to hurt to sit. You just want him to stop. “I’m sorry. I’ll learn to do everything on time. Please just don’t hurt me anymore.”

Begging has never once worked on him.

THWACK

“Twenty-one” This time you scream and drag your aching body away from him using your forearms. Tears and snot stream down your face in a miserable display of defeat.

He relents. You know its over when you crawl over to him, not even bothering with your underwear (instead opting to kick them off), and hug his leg. Your body is quaking and you’re still begging for him to have mercy on you for whatever reason. You know he’s done.

You don’t even notice you're getting tears and snot all over his pants as you beg and beg for him to be kind to you. He just kicks you off of him, not caring to hear whatever you’ve got to say for yourself. You lean back into a cold cabinet door, hugging your knees to your chest silently. 

“Clean up. When you’re done, take a shower and don’t come out of you're room for the rest of the day. I don’t want to see or hear you. Do I make myself clear?” He looms over you like the devil himself and you know to look at his feet.

“Yes, Master.”

[sjw-publishings]

A Le’Silver Lining

Based on a story from Midas Touch, by @dumb-and-jocked

“Finish up pronto, or you’re fired.”

Aden sighed, he really wanted to get that promotion, the next step up the corporate ladder, but because of some desperate plea of a ‘millennial-life crisis’, he ended up revealing to his incredibly hot Boss...hoping he had been closeted this entire time.

He was wrong.

Recalling the many words and verbal insults from the strict CEO, it was far from a ‘privilege’ throughout these past few years.

And to be paid a similar wage while handling this douchebag’s laundry is just the icing on the cake.

All he wanted to do was to head towards the top with a faithful partner, but instead his arrogant boss reduced him to some laundry ‘boy’. He was in his mid 20s and treated like some joke.

“This is humiliating!”

Stuffing in the last few piles of clothes, he grumbled, but not too loud just in case his boss spied on him. Turning on the laundry machine as it whirled, done for the day...though not for long knowing how unreasonable that homophobe was.

Folding his arms, pocketing the white gloves he had to wear. As the douche puts it, ‘so he won’t catch the gay’. He rubbed his palms all over his youthful face, trying to contain himself from tearing over his demotion a couple of hours ago, hoping there will be a way to get some power back.

*Shone*

From the corner of his eye came a glint of something shiny, alone at the corner of the clothes basket was a singular watch, which was without a doubt very costly.

Not like his boss’s that shone gold, but rather one of silver. ‘A promising shine...yet dull’. One of the many insults that alpha would arrogantly scoff at him.

“Better polish this before he starts complaining about it.”

As he said that, he grabbed a cloth that appeared to his side and began polishing the accessory. Not realising how the watch voluntarily attached itself to his wrist as his eyes were laser focused on polishing the silver lining.

Le Silver Lining.

His fingernails began trimming themselves short, hands were bigger and more worn...yet eloquent. The changes trailed down his arms, tightening his biceps with lean muscle of a servant who had been tasked with numerous duties beyond laundry.

The boss eventually demanded more from him after all, as the shirt he wore had split into two, the lower layer ironing itself to his chest, sculpting his abdominals to six stones as two modest arches formed the front side of his chest, tightening as the solid foundation gets filled with pectoral muscle.

Starch blue Sleeves rolling down to his wrists, regaining the familiarity of a buttoned down as the upper layer rested over him like a navy suit jacket. He had to look presentable always, even if he was Mr. Conrad’s servant, especially when he had visitors.

Of course, his snobbish boss was always in control, living under his roof meant a rigid schedule with tons of tasks always needing to be done. Buttocks tightening...ensuring there will be no time for any poking from behind.

“He did give me some leeway though.”

Connecting his legs, as the stress pitched a tent beneath his trousers, which shifted to a more expensive quality that he missed, tightening on those knees in dark blue like his suit jacket, as he stood tall over 6ft, slightly shorter than his boss...but definitely the height of a man who was in charge of many things.

The man in the older twenties nodded, as with every swipe, the new reality of his situation became clearer and clearer.

His pouch rested comfortably in those briefs, which came with the uniform ‘to set ‘boys’ straight’ as so he proclaims. Being dedicated to his boss meant he had no time for a long term relationship, seeing men less and being forced to chat with women.

Though with the amount of ladies chatting with him....

“He has been exceptionally generous.”

Huffing out an arrogant flair, starting to appreciate his employer. Yes, he was bi-curious, nothing too serious though, at least with the men.

Plus the watch was, after all, a symbol of gratitude and position from the older male. Despite the consistent banter during his first few years, he really grew on him despite the excessive homophobia.

Because, it was as his boss said, working under him was a privilege.

Both things, he too had inherited from his long time boss. He did serve under him over 16 years, and while Conrad was demanding, he was absolutely generous, as long as one fits into his mould.

Which its something he slid on in perfectly.

“Still, not really my type, no?”

The age gap was less than a decade, but he was not interested in such acts with the man. Putting his foot down, shoes being polished into a prim and proper wing-tip, strictly professional like their relationship.

The strictness was something he did admire in a superior, alongside the pompous arrogance, he probably wouldn’t date the man even if he were gay! Despite it being so arou-

“Non non...what am I thinking?!”

His voice deepened, darkened. His nose wrinkled in disgust, disapproval to his more...’immature’ ways. Aging out to a matured thirty eight, as his skin took on a more elegant and healthy glow. Raised in the life of the wealthy, but with the humility of a servant.

They were simply, Sir and b...Monsieur. A Boss and his trusted butler, a respectable relationship between gentlemen.

Standing up straight, a posture he maintained throughout his years at the CEO’s house, shoulders filling up nicely on his uniform, buttocks being disciplined shut as though he vehemently made a decision to stay far from those kind of acts.

And of course, this choice was made solely on his own.

“Unacceptable, no?”

Smirking to himself, recalling the many rants from Sir Conrad about ‘faguettes’ and how disrespectful youths nowadays were, and the many nights they had fine women over as a result.

Giving a few combs to his hair, tight and thorough hairspray glued his slicked back cut to his scalp, maintaining it since he started as one of the servants in the mansion, the prim and proper look for someone who belonged underneath his employer, yet dashing enough to stand out for the ladies.

And of course, he had a level of authority unlike the supervisors of his boss’s company. Bringing his palm to his face, brushing against the dark brown bristles, stubbles, beard on his chin down to a more concentrated ‘chin strap’ as the locals call it.

Jaw sharpening itself to a cleft, moustache dressing above his upper lip, trimmed and twirled to the ideas from the CEO, with a modest patch of fuzz below his lower lip, mirroring his superior’s well groomed moustache.

Like a shadow, he would do as his employer says, and behave like him...with a Parisian twist.

The experienced servant giving a few final swipes to the watch with ease as the polished beam shone into his eyes, lenses. A pair of rectangular spectacles framed his new perspective, with utmost appreciation to his employer.

Brows arching downward, trimming away any resistance to the loyal affluence of the frenchman’s dark brown eyes. Pocketing away his hankerchief, he turned on the washing machine and made his way to the living room with a pre-prepared cart of treats.

Knowing, according to his watch, its tea time.

“As expected as always, Monsieur.”

Antoine bowed down to his waist, proud of his accomplishment of being second in command to the CEO of C.O.N. Corporations. And while he may not have a title like the fine gentlemen sitting at the boardroom, the Butler had more say in who stays than any of them ever could.

That enough was of satisfaction to the eloquent Parisian.

“Now if you would excuse us, we would like to have the rest of the afternoon undisturbed until a quarter past nine...”

As his boss said that, a fancy looking Madame climbed on top of him, and initiated an intense make out session like every other evening after a special occasion.

“Understood sir, enjoy your session.”

The french butler walked on auto pilot out of the room, leaving them to their heterosexual pursuits. Of course, while he was a fellow ladies man, he wasn’t going to steal the spotlight from his boss. He wasn’t a ‘boy’, but a ‘Monsieur’, and besides...

“Heehee~”

There was someone far more interesting on the staircase...

A french maid, dressed loosely in that typical frilly attire, winked at him. That cheeky vixen...she was literally asking to be painted, pulling his attention from his multitude of assignments to be done, and onto her.

Alas, the ladies do come first, his boss always encouraged his many trysts with women across the mansion, as long as he did a clean job.

And this blonde was no exception, most definitely another generous reward from Sir Conrad, something his eyes savoured by examining those pillows on her mattress.

Removing his glasses, he gave a dashing look at the lady, and daringly spoke.

“Bonjour Mademoiselle, Coffee, Tea, or me?”

[carriagelamp]

Art of Aardman

I found myself a cheap copy of the Shaun the Sheep movie, so I was rewatching a bunch of Aardman films earlier this month and decided to hunt down some books too. For anyone that doesn’t know, Aardman is a British stop-motion studio that does fantastic work like Wallace and Gromit, Shaun the Sheep, Chicken Run, Early Man… tons of cool stuff. They’re always quirky and funny and warm-hearted. This was just a very nice art book for anyone that’s a fan of Aardman stop motion and wants to see a bit extra; it shows some cool concept art and blows up the neat details in Aardman work, especially in their intricate stuff like The Pirates! In an Adventure with Scientists!

Asterix and the Picts (Asterix and the Chariot Race, and How Obelix Fell Into The Magic Potion)

I decided to try a couple of the new Asterix comics that were done by the new team, just to see if they stand up to the old ones (that and How Obelix Fell Into The Magic Potion cause I’d never read that one before). They were pretty decent! Asterix and the Picts was my favourite of the two though I wouldn’t say either are going to contest for my favourite Asterix comic... but still! The art looks good and the stories felt like what I would expect, they made for a pleasant couple evenings of reading especially since it’s been so long since I’ve read a new Asterix comic. If you’ve never read Asterix it’s one of the biggest name French comic series in North America, as far as I know and very worth the read. It’s about a single Gaulish village that’s holding out against the invading Romans through sheer force of will, slapstick hijinks, and a magical super-strength potion brewed by their druid. Lots of fantastic visuals and cute wordplay, even in the English translations.

Bear

I found out about this bastion of Canadian literature via tumblr post that was losing its collective mind over the fact that some bizarre bear-based erotica novella somehow won the most prestigious literary prize available in Canada. Since I too found this hilarious and unspeakably bizarre I had to give it a read, obviously. And yes, the flat surface level summary is... a librarian moves out into rural Ontario and falls in love with a literal for-real not-supernatural-not-a-joke bear. And I have to say… it is actually worthy of an award, which I was not expecting given that I was there for a laugh. It has beautiful writing, and the subtextual story is pretty interesting… it kind of makes me think of The Haunting of Hill House actually in terms of themes. (Womanhood, personhood, independence, autonomy partially achieved through escaping the male gaze by claiming non-human lovers... listen if I were still in university I would right a paper comparing the two novels).

I dunno man, it’s fucking weird. Actually a well-written book, but sure is about a woman falling in love with a literal bear. Give it a read if you want something bonkers but like… high-brow bonkers.

Hunger Pangs: True Love Bites

Best book I have read in like… a while. A long while. I am not a fast reader, and I consumed 90% of this book over a weekend. It’s not at all like Terry Pratchett, but at the same time it scratched an itch for me that I haven’t had satisfied since Pratchett’s death. A very clever, hilariously funny poly romance between a disabled werewolf, an anxious vampire lord, and an incredibly powerful woman, with heaps of social satire, political commentary, and sinister undertones. The whole thing reads a bit like fanfiction and I say that in the most flattering way possible -- it is so easy to jump right in and be immediately taken over by the characters and the world and the plot, you never feel like you’re fighting to engage even though the world-building is fascinating and expansive. It welcomes you in right away, it was the book equivalent of a quilt and a hug which is something I sorely needed with all this pandemic bullshit. If you read any of the books on this list, go read that one while I sit here in pain waiting for the sequel.

Kid Paddle

I watched the cartoon of Kid Paddle as a kid and was thinking about it recently, so I decided to hunt down some of the original comics online. They’re fun and weird, with a cute art style and fantastic monsters designs. (My favourites are always about Kid either daydreaming or playing games that involve Midam’s weird warty troll creatures. It’s like a cross between Calvin and Hobbes and Foxtrot with the fun sort of quirks that I love in Belgian comics. Unfortunately, unlike Asterix, I’ve only come across these ones in French, but if you can read French it’s totally worth popping over to The Internet Archive and reading the ones they have available.

The Last Firehawk: The Golden Temple

The lastest Firehawk book. Despite being written for quite young readers, I did enjoy the early books in this series quite a bit. They’re about a young owl and squirrel who found an egg for a magical species that was believed to be extinct. With the newly hatched firehawk, the three of them head off on a mission to find an ancient firehawk magic that could save the entire forest. Very basic adventure story but a good intro to the tropes for children. Unfortunately the quality really feels like it drops with each subsequent book; this will probably be the last one I bother reading.

Lumberjanes: The Moon Is Up

I honestly think I enjoy these Lumberjanes novels even more than the comics just because it really gives time to delve into each story and examine how the camper are really thinking and feeling about everything. (Also I’m always weak for novelizations of anything.) The Moon Is Up is a book that focuses more on Jo, and takes place during the camp’s much anticipated Galaxy Wars, a competition between cabins that goes over several days. While the campers prepare for these challenges though, they also run into a strange little creature with a penchant for cheese and theft. Roanoke cabin needs to keep ahead in Galaxy Wars and somehow deal with the fearsome Moon Pirates that a closing in...

Lumberjanes v4 (Out Of Time)

One of the Lumberjanes comics, a cool, girl-focused, queer comic series. Honestly, this is just a fun series that I never got as into as I should have. My advice is honestly to skip book one because it gets better as it continues, and I’ve really been enjoying the later books now that I’ve given it another go. It follows five campers at Miss Qiunzella Thiskwin Penniquiqul Thistle Crumpet’s Camp for Hardcore Lady Types (Jo, April, Molly, Mal, and Ripley) as they handle all sorts of challenges, from friendship to crushes, camp activities to supernatural horrors, getting badges to not being brutally killed. Great if you liked the vibe of Gravity Falls but want it to be queer-er.

Mooncakes

Another queer graphic novel, but unfortunately not a very good one. It really looked appealing and I had high hopes, but the book itself really didn’t hold up… I actually couldn’t even finish it, the plot was just too… non-existent. The art is fairly mediocre once you actually look at it, especially backgrounds, and it feels very… placid. Not much conflict or excitement or even a very compelling reason to keep reading. If you just want a soft queer supernatural you may get more mileage out of it than me, but it didn’t really do it for me. There’s better queer graphic novels out there.

New Boy In Town

One of the worst books I have ever read. My girlfriend had ordered a very different book online but through a frankly stupendous error was sent this 1980s pulp romance instead. Absolutely nauseating on levels I couldn’t even begin to enumerate here. Naturally we read the whole thing out loud. Probably took us 10 times longer to finish than it warranted because I had to stop every two sentences to lose my mind. If you like bad decisions, baffling hetero courting rituals, built-in cultural Christianity without actually calling it that, and gold panning then boy howdy is this the book for you.

(seriously, you better have patience for gold-panning if you attempt this one, because I sure learn that I don’t)

Piggies

This was a picture book I enjoyed as a kid and had a reason to reread recently. Honestly it’s just very cute and simple, and the art is completely mesmerizing. Wonderful if you know a young child that would enjoy a simple goofy boardbook.

Shaun the Sheep: Tales From Mossy Bottom

Related to my Aardman fascination earlier this month. I tried reading a varieties of Shaun the Sheep books — most of which are mediocre at best — but the Tales From Mossy Bottom Farm series is genuinely good. Just chapter books, of course, but the illustrations match the series’ concept art and each story feels like it could have jumped directly out of an episode. They’re just cute and feel-good! Kinda like Footrot Flats but more for kids, and from the sheep’s perspective moreso than the dog’s.

[soulwillower]

troublemaker II • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

requested:  IMA NEED A PART TWO OF TROUBLEMAKER   +    also R U GONNA MAKE TROUBLEMAKER P2 I NEED A PART WHERE THEY FALL IN LURVVVVV    +   holy shit ainslee troublemaker was amazing can you please please do another please    +     will you ever do a part two to trouble maker? i fucking loved it    +     heyyyy so if ur requests do ever open again u should make one where it’s a part two of troublemaker but the reader is the dominant one this time 😳    +     IMFG IM GONNA NEED A PART TWO OF THAT FIC MISS    +     hey ainslee queen I hope you’re doing good I know I am since that fat Cheeto is finally gone lmaoo anyways but I just had this moment in my head since I read your new Richie fic (which I loved): enemies to lovers but it’s sub!richie instead 😉💜💜💜    +      yooooo your fics are sooooooo gooooood. and troublemaker kinda deserves a second part with richie teasing the reader at dinner      

this was highly requested so here!! part 2 of troublemaker!

part one here 

warnings: unprotected sex, pool sex, brief mentions of being caught, sub richie, a bit of switch richie for a hot sec, choking, a bit of praise, dirty talking, french richie!! also a slap (reader slaps richie), i think thats it but this is rly unedited.

translations: (**DISCLAIMER I AM NOT A NATIVE FRENCH SPEAKER I AM TRYING MY BEST**) 

“tu vas me tuer“ - you will kill me

“dit ‘merci’“ - say thank you

“merde” - shit

“oh, mais tu l'as toujours aimée, non?” - oh, but you’ve always liked her, no?

[characters are 18+.]

2.5k words

♡

the next day was just odd.

you're not sure what you expected - it's not like a momentary weakness on both your sides could have unraveled the years of disdain and hate that you've sewn for each other.

so, somewhere in your sex-muddled mind, while you’d been staring at the marks left on you in the mirror, imagining his pale skin against your own, the lasting sting to your hips and the soreness to your throat; you’d almost forgotten how miserable richie was to be around. 

but then you were all at lunch the next day. sitting at the large family table, next to your parents, across from richie and his own parents. and he started dragging his foot over your leg, teasing lightly and making you flush in heat, your eyes meeting and sending thrills through your body.

you don't think anything of it when richie accidentally drops his fork on the floor under him and then excuses himself to crawl under the table like a five year old looking for a crayon, in fact, you just roll your eyes at his stupidity and continue to talk to richie's mom, who sits a few feet away from you at the spacious table. 

a jolt runs through your body when a hand gently caresses your inner thigh, and your breath becomes hitched in your throat, momentarily losing your voice. you look down quickly, to find the mischievous eyes you've spent too much time thinking of the last twelve hours staring at you from under the table, head between your spread legs, mere inches from the apex of your thighs.

 you feel your cheeks heat up as you stutter to answer maggie's question about your hobbies, suddenly hyper-aware that when you'd come in from the ocean you'd left your legs and swimsuit bottom uncovered with only a shirt on your chest. 

a quick kiss is pressed to your clothed clit and you jump back a bit. “y/n, are you okay?” your mother asks, and you kick blindly under the table in shock. a thump sounds under the table and richie yelps, “aie!” 

you cough, “sorry, just-”  “-y/n kicked me!” richie calls, the scrape of the fork on the floor making you roll your eyes. fucking idiot. 

“play nice, y/n.” your mom chides. you shake your head, going back to telling maggie about your afterschool endeavors. 

"-oh, one of richie's friends does that, too." went adds, perking up. you smile, cheeks flushed as richie returns to his chair, fork in hand and a huge smirk on his lips.  you glare at him, flashing him the finger. he just raises his brow, puckering his lips slightly and dropping a wink. 

"oh, that's right! richie, what's her name? my, she is very sweet." maggie adds, taking another bite of salad. richie's eyes meet yours through the top of his bottle of corona lite, as he takes a swig then wipes his lips, smug smirk making you burn in irritation. wentworth laughs, "yeah, she was sweet until you both showed up with hickies everywhere. i swear, there wasn't a single inch of clear skin." 

maggie throws cauliflower at wentworth as she mutters, "went! knock it off."  richie just chuckles, shaking his head. "c'mon, pops. shit happens." he defends. his dad, egged on by his son, laughs, "yeah, no kidding. i think every single girl you've ever had over has left with at least ten hickies. you could at least buy them dinner." 

"hey, at least he has a job," your mom adds, and you squeeze your eyes shut, expecting something bad to follow. "- that way you don't have to be the ones buying him his twenty pack condoms every month." they all laugh. 

“say, y/n may be the only girl your age we know that hasn’t fallen in love with you.” his dad jests, making everyone laugh. “-yet,” your dad adds, and you glare at him.  you shrug, “it’s not really hard at all.” you say. richie scoffs, “you sure, toots?” he asks with a grin. 

“believe me, you’re not my type.” you spit. richie laughs, “right, you like a good gentleman, right? someone who will say ‘you’re welcome’ when you say thank you?” 

you freeze slightly at his words, heat pooling between your legs as you remember the night before. the way he made you say thank you. but his boldness to bring it up in front of your family has you rolling your eyes. “i think i like someone who will do what i say.” you respond. 

his mom laughs, “that’s not a big deal, richie’s all talk, but he’s a nice boy at heart. he needs someone who’ll boss him around.” she winks at you. you turn to richie, in turn raising your eyebrows cockily. he stares back at you. 

“oh, richie’s too busy with those other girls for me, anyways. i have my own troublemakers to worry about.” 

“okay.” richie starts, “i won’t waste my time on you, then. i got plenty of fish in the sea at home.” he says with a wink, and you turn red. why are you still so jealous? 

maggie hums, “oh, mais tu l'as toujours aimée, non?” her tone is teasing, and whatever it is she said makes went laugh, richie’s face going pink. “shush, maman, you just want y/n to marry me so i don’t go through five divorces.” 

everyone laughs. 

your eyes are wide, face full of heat as you stare at your food. the toziers and your family both have always been open about sexuality, and generally really close and so you're used to teasing like this from your parents and them, but you can't get over how jealous you feel. 

so richie has mind-blowing sex with everyone? you glare at your own cauliflower. 

"i'm going swimming." you say abruptly, pushing back and glaring at richie, tossing your finished plate in the dishwasher before exiting quickly, rushing to the pool on the side of the house. 

you're not in the pool for even two minutes before richie's footsteps echo down the side of the house. 

you hide your glare as you look at your body in the water before meeting his eyes, "what can i do for you, tozier?" 

he gives you a smirk, "someone's pissy today." he mutters as he slides into the pool, sitting on the bench under the water on the edge of the shallow end. you glare at him. "what was that shit you just pulled?" you snap. 

he looks at you innocently, "what? i did nothing. it was our parents. you're just fucking sensitive." you roll your eyes, heaving a sigh. when you look at him again, his eyes are trained on the skin of your chest exposed by your swim suit, and you glare.

“what? you like what you see, asshole?” you ask, snapping your fingers so he looks up at your eyes. he smirks, “yeah, i do. can't stop thinking about all the ways i could make you scream. if only you weren’t such a bitch.”

your jaw drops and you wade in the pool towards him. “says you. you couldn’t fucking handle me, tozier. you’re too much of a coward.” you spit. he just smiles. “right, again, i'd like to remind you how many times you begged me and thanked me last night." 

“i hate you so much.” you say, mustering the best glare you can. he raises his eyebrows. “oh, really? is that why you stormed out here?” he says. he tilts his head, "i thought it was because you were just aching so bad for me that you couldn't wait. 

you raise your brows, "fuck you. you were hard the minute i came in for lunch." you tease, toying with the strap of your bathing suit. richie's jaw clenches, but he shakes his head, "as if you weren't begging me to fuck you not twelve hours ago?" he counters, but his voice wavers slightly as you move toward him in the water, slowly sliding to straddle his lap, hands falling to his bare chest. 

"you're unbelievable." you counter, grinding your hips on his and relishing in the pleasure that courses through you. "i know how bad you need me." you whisper, kissing his earlobe before biting the skin of his neck below it. he hisses. 

he's kissing you seconds later, hands pawing at you under the water. he tastes like lime and a bit like the beer he'd had at the beach and again at lunch.

you drag your hand slowly under the waistband of his swim trunks and grasp the base of his cock, squeezing as you start to twist your wrist. he lets out a short moan, his head falling back against the edge of the pool. fuck, he’s so fucking hot like this. you pull him back in for a kiss before looking at him, stopping your motions with your hand. he moves his thumb to trace idle circles over your clit, and you bite back a moan as you watch him.

“what, are you waiting for instructions?" he asks with a cocky smirk. you glare at him hotly. 

then you're sinking onto him swiftly, making you gasp in pleasure and discomfort. he’s so fucking big, but you bite your lip so he doesn’t get the satisfaction of seeing you like this. but then he's the one a moaning and whimpering mess, because you're adjusting and still and he's restless. you feel him inside you, full completely with his cock, him at your mercy, and it makes you smirk. 

"beg for it, richie." you say. 

his eyes widen, cheeks pink. his mouth opens and closes several times, but you're patient. “tu vas me tuer,” he mutters to himself, and you roll your eyes. “i don’t speak french.” you snap, tugging his hair. 

 "please move. wanna feel you around me, please." he rushes out, groaning as he begs.  

you smile mockingly and rise, sinking down onto him again. "was that so hard?" you ask. you gasp, hands clutching the edge of the pool on either side of richie, the feeling of his cock stretching you making you whimper in bliss. he moans your name and it sounds melodic to your ears, his eyes shutting and head rolling back. 

you grab his jaw, though, and mutter, “look at me when i’m riding you, richie.” your voice is sweet and smooth and nothing like the words that fall from your mouth, and you feel him twitch inside you. it makes you grin. he moans, “merde.” 

you move on him, thrusting yourself up and down on him as the water moves around you, adrenaline coursing through you at the thought of getting caught. it makes you grin as you pepper kisses up and down the column of his throat. "god, y/n, please, feels so good." he whispers, hands gripping your hips. your stomach swirls, still responding to the praise though you're the one in control. 

you find a new angle and bite your lip to keep from screaming at the feeling and see richie biting his own bruised lips, his face flushed and chest heaving. his hands are digging into your hips harshly and if you weren’t in so much pleasure, you might laugh at how desperate he looks for you. he’s hitting deep inside you and you feel full, moaning as you bounce up and down.

“fuck, y/n/n… please, please.” he whimpers, his hands running over your hair and your shoulders, lips feathering over the column of your neck as you bounce yourself on him. you moan into his skin, kissing softly under his ear. 

"what do you say?" you whisper into his ear, tugging on his lobe. he lets out a low moan that has you clenching around him in arousal. he rolls his eyes and doesn't respond, so you tug his curls back and he hisses lightly, "i don’t know what you mean." he mutters, cheeks bright red. it makes you smirk, stomach curling with the need for sweet revenge. yes, he knows, but you play along. 

“dit ‘merci,’ pretty boy.” you whisper into his ear, using the only french phrase you can remember that you may or may not have looked up earlier today. but no matter, his reaction is priceless.  

goose bumps raise on his neck and arms and he groans lightly, muttering, “merci, ma belle.” 

you lean back, hips slowing, and you can tell it's torturous for him because his hands tighten on your hips, a small whine escaping his throat. "what was that, richie?" you ask, slowly grinding your hips and letting him hit that perfect spot inside you, making you close your eyes in ecstasy. "say it louder, i couldn't quite hear you. want everyone to know how easily i make you melt." 

"sh-shut up." he mutters instead, his hips starting to snap up into you. you're suddenly shocked by his switch in demeanor, you can tell he's trying to take control; you nearly laugh, and you would if it didn't feel so euphoric. he's smirking as he holds you, fucking up into you and making you clench your fists into his hair, struggling for dominance. "so easy for you to think you're in control," he mutters, "i could tell you were jealous. you only want this cock for yourself, isn't that right?" 

you flush warm at his words but you just glare, filled with anger so you surge forward, hand wrapping around his throat. his eyes go wide and a moan escapes his throat lowly, his hips stuttering. you hum in mock empathy, squeezing your hand lightly as you pepper kisses up his jaw. you start to bounce on his cock again, feeling so close to your orgasm that you have to contain your moans. 

"god, you're so hot when you stop talking." you whisper, hand wrapping around his throat, repeating the words he’d said to you yesterday. his adam's apple bobs as he swallows and stares up at you, a new kind of fire lighting in his eyes as he looks up at you, cheeks reddening as he lets out a light moan. "did you think of me again last night? when you were going to bed?" you ask gently, cupping his jaw as you move on him. 

he pants, nodding lightly with his bruised lip caught under his teeth. "did you think of fucking me, in the ocean? in the pool? in the kitchen? or did you imagine me swallowing your cock under the table during dinner?" you whisper to him, his adam's apple bobbing again, freckles popping out against his reddened cheeks. 

you tut, "richie, did you try to make me jealous today? that's a little embarrassing." 

"it worked, didn't it?" he mutters through a clenched jaw, eyes screwed shut in pleasure. you glare at him, hand raising and slapping his cheek lightly. his eyes shoot open as the left cheek fills with a light pink color, a smirk on his face that sends another wave of arousal over you.  it's almost a reflex it seems as richie's own hand shoots out of the water, wrapping around your own throat. 

you stare at each other as you continue to move on him, his hand on your throat and yours on his own, his cheek skin red from where you'd just slapped him. "that's a yes, doll." he mutters, still smirking. 

then you're moving your hips in a way that hits your g-spot, momentarily losing your grip on his neck as the pleasure makes your eyes roll back. his hand falls from your throat and rests on your hips, tugging you closer to him with need. 

richie’s torso falls back so he’s leaning against the pool wall, his eyes not leaving yours, desperation etched onto his face. you lean to press your hands against his chest, changing the angle again. “fuck.” he mutters and you moan, your legs burning but the pleasure flowing through your body.  

he all but growls, his head falls back with a groan of pleasure, his hands raising to your hips and fucking up into you, eyes scrunched.

"y/n, i'm close, please." he mutters. you moan lightly, "me too baby." you hiss back, his hand thumbing your clit and making you clench around his cock with arousal, legs shaking and toes curling as you fuck down onto him. 

his hips are stuttering and he’s whimpering, thumb rubbing against your clit. you moan at the feeling, whispering praise into richie’s ear, making him snap his hips quicker.

you hit your high quickly and it makes your body shake, your legs stuttering as you still yourself on him, moaning into his neck.

you start to move again, allowing richie to chase his high as he whimpers into your lips, gripping your thighs tight.  "please, please." he's groaning and then his hips are stuttering and he’s moaning your name, cumming as he kisses you.

you feel him fill you up and you sigh in pleasure, feeling shaky but more than satisfied. his hands fall from your hips to wipe at his hot, red face. you run your hands through his salty mess of curls, swallowing. "sorry i hit you." you say genuinely, even though you know he liked it. he chuckles, hands wrapping around your waist. 

"you should know that i liked it. i know you did too."

you can only chuckle lightly, face warm as you bury it in the crook of his neck, still too sensitive for either of you to move yet. he continues after a beat.

"i may hate you, y/n, but god damn if our sex isn't the best i've ever had." he says it in an exhausted voice, eyes closed as your skin sticks to his own, but you laugh a bit tiredly, pressing a kiss to his collarbone and comfortable in the feeling of him still deep inside you. it’s obvious that the feeling in your chest when he speaks those words is pride. 

"then we need to make the most of this vacation, i guess." you say, eyes fluttering. 

tag list:  @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier  @sft-core @clownsloveyou  @moon-shine-baby @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @chl0bee  @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @groovybimbo @deepestofwaters  @nate-hargreeves @sassy-uris @loverloserrr @hauntingkaspbrak @soph-ec @hockslutter @babytortie @decafcoffew  @etaerealboy

© all content belongs to soulwillower/tremendum 2021. do not modify, repost, or redistribute. 

[beware-of-you-98]

BAU as College Professors AU

*cracks knuckles*

Penelope

penelope is a graphic design professor

she loves teaching kids about the wonders of photoshop!!

hates illustrator and indesign with a burning passion

(the illustrator pen tool can fucking choke for all she cares)

(AND HOW THE FUCK DO YOU PUT THE FRONT AND COVER TOGETHER IN INDESIGN!?!?)

(she really hates both applications sm 😭)

is always reluctant to teach them but does it begrudgingly

(she’s just glad there’s other professors in the department that teach editorial and graphic illustration)

teaches photography!!

encourages the students to be as expressive as they want to be with their pictures!!!

she’ll be just as enthusiastic to see a close up of a sneaker as she is to see a sunset landscape shot

teaches the graphic design studio classes too!!

she always has music playing!!

half the time, her students come into the class and her glasses are all skewed, her hands are covered in paint or glue and some abstract art piece is sitting on her desk

when the students ask her what it is, she just gives the projects human names

“hey professor... what did you make there?” “oh, this?? her name is... pam.... yeah, pam”

she doesn’t offer up any further explination than that

and the students just accept it

her office light is always off

but she has multiple fairy lights in various colors hung up

her office is v inviting!!!

students come to her to vent or to talk about their problems bc the campus therapist doesn’t help all lmao

she always has on the most unique outfits but she pulls them off so well

a ray of sunshine tbh!!

Spencer

teaches major science and math courses

he teaches chemistry but only chem for majors in chemistry

it’s not that he can’t teach chem for non majors

but he sometimes gets too ahead of himself and forgets he’s teaching a course for non majors

it’s easier for him to teach for majors because the students can follow his ramblings better

he teaches upper level math courses and usually only has like three students in those classes

he’ll sit up on his desk and debate with the students for the entire hour about the riemann hypothesis

he gets excited because the students are just as enthusiastic as he is

he is two extremes

he either shows up to his classroom like a half hour early and writes out all his notes on the board so that when the students come in, he can go right into lecture

or he’ll show up two minutes before class starts with his hair disheveled, his tie undone and his expression glazed over and just be like “listen up i woke up late and just downed an entire pot of coffee i brewed with several cans of monster energy—i don’t exist on this dimension anymore”

on those days, he lets his students work on other projects for other classes because he knows it’s not fair to ask his students to focus if he’s not

he helps them with their homework

penelope brings him lunch sometimes to make sure he’s eating

he appreciates it a lot because between lesson plans and grading, he sometimes forgets to eat

he’s absolutely the youngest prof on campus

sometimes even his students are older than he is

but everyone addresses him correctly and respects him bc he’s really chill

his office is a disorganized mess

there’s files and papers all over his desk

and a sculpture penelope made for him (she named that one “roger”)

JJ

psychology professor

she really has a passion for teaching and learning about human psychology

(she may have started to become interested in psychology bc her sister was in the psch honors course before she died)

she comes across as a little hostile and unapproachable tbh

but she’s young

and she’s attractive

and she’s not conveniently what people think a professor looks like

she’ll respect her students if they respect her

she didn’t graduate the top of her class and work her ass off for the degree to not be respected

if there’s any inappropriate comments aimmed towards her or anyone in the class, she kicks the aggressor out immediately

she stands at the front of the room and lectures for the beginning part of the semester

once she’s built a good rapport with her students (and vise versa), she becomes more chill

she’ll sit on the edge of her desk and encourage discussion rather than following a book or a set plan

(she finds it’s more interesting that way anyway)

sometimes her students will show up ten minutes before class starts just to talk with her once they’re comfortable with her

she always answers her emails students send her (queen shit tbh 👑)

some kids in the psych major course playfully call her “mom” because she always asks them how they’re doing and about their week

(she hasn’t decided how she feels about it, but she also lets it slide)

always wears pants suits but cuffs the sleeves to the jackets

her office always smells like eucalyptus because she has a small mist diffuser plugged in

she also has a small fish tank with a beta fish inside (its the appropriate size too!!)

(she let a student name the fish—it’s name is sir bubbles of argon)

she also has a sculpture from penelope (“her name is maxine”)

her desk is very organized and clean!!

there’s a small couch in her office and her door is always open

sometimes, students will come in if they’re having a hard time and need someone to talk to

they know jj is there to listen and she always seems to understand (she doesn’t judge them either)

Emily

teaches three languages, both for majors and non majors

spanish, french and russian

(she’s also quite fluent in arabic and italian and can hold her own if she’s speaking in german or mandarin, but the students don’t need to know that)

she’s actually very intimidating lmao

students are so scared of her 😭

she’s serious af

(she smiles in class sometimes though!!)

(besides, she’s only serious inside the classroom)

(outside the classroom, she might even be as approachable as penelope)

always dressed in expensive black suits, polished heeled shoes with very dark makeup and a “don’t fuck with me” steely attitude to match

she also wears expensive watches

she always stands at the front of the class and slowly paces the entire hour

one time someone decided to fuck off in her spanish 101 class

she didn’t even yell at him, she glared

rumor has it the kid was never spotted on campus again after that

(BOY SHE SCARED HIM SO BAD HE DROPPED TF OUT)

despite that, her classes are some of the easiest to take

one because emily has a way of teaching that helps all students understand

and two because her voice is naturally very easy to listen to

students taking her french 101 are going to leave the class speaking fluent conversational french

she also doesn’t tolerate people being racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, etc in her class

if she catches a bigoted comment someone makes in her class, she kicks them immediately

she brings in her cat sometimes

he’s all black and his name is sergio

(he’s her esa that she brings in when she’s feeling really stressed out)

he’s clipped on a harness and sits on her shoulder or on her desk

if he meows, she accepts it as an answer

it’s the only time the students ever see professor emily prentiss as soft

well

other than the days she has the class watch foreign films because the students can tell emily has a fondness for them

her office is pretty organized like jj’s

instead of it being light and inviting, emily decorated her office on a more dark side

she has a few animal skulls, crystals and other gothic memorabilia on her desk or bookshelf

she has a small cat bed on the corner of her desk that sergio sleeps in

on the other corner is a sculpture penelope made her

(it kinda looks like a crow and emily named it kurt)

really, the only colors in her office are dark, deep purples and the small lesbian pride flag sticker on the back of her laptop

Derek

teaches history classes

but like modern history

from like 1940s to present

he refuses to follow most western history books bc they’re not accurate like at all

in his first year of teaching, the dean of his department made him use a book and he hated every second of it

how accurate could the information be if they portray king tut as a white guy???

he graduated under one of the best historians in the country

he also traveled a lot after he graduated and met a lot of people that had first hand experience with major historical events

that’s really what he bases his teachings off of—first hand experiences and encounters

every two weeks or so, he’ll invite in guest speakers to his classes to talk about what they went through (depending on his lesson plans)

that’s how he likes to teach and learn (bc he always loves to learn new things!!)

this is random, but also he is the type of professor to randomly box jump up onto a desk

he also sits in chairs backwards and has a more laid back style to teaching

his exams are based on what the students can learn from history rather than the information itself

he’s always dressed super casual!!

solid color, short sleeve button ups are a favorite!! (no tie)

he gets along with all the students

he’ll talk to the athletes about their games but sound just as enthusiastic and genuine talking with students who are majors in fine arts about their projects

he’s just a v down to earth professor tbh!!

he brings in clooney so much

like... every friday

it’s just another bonus of taking his history classes!!

he and penelope are dating

his office is full of sculptures she makes for him 🥺

he drops by her graphic design studio class with clooney to help out or even to just watch

he’s supportive and encouraging of penelope and her art!!

other than the sculptures penelope makes him, his office is a bit more disorganized than jj’s or emily’s, but cleaner than spencer’s

he has a few papers scattered on his desk but mostly he’s a little more put together

his office door has a small basketball hoop attached that he plays around with if he’s bored (and if penelope is busy)

both he and penelope have a dog bed in their office and water bowls for clooney when he comes in

Hotch

law professor

is the most intimidating professor on campus

like

seriously

if students think professor prentiss is intimidating, they haven’t met professor hotchner

he stands in the front of the room and goes over his lecture without pausing or asking questions

his voice is naturally low and intimidating and he actually never smiles

his attire and appearance is always so professional

suits

ties that are tied so tight, they look like they’re choking him

shoes so polished, he can see his reflection in them

hair always styled neatly

pants and jacket are always wrinkle free

his classes are difficult

not just because of the subject matter, but because he has a very organized, straight forward method to his teaching

students wouldn’t dare act up in his class—they’d be absolute idiots to

he’s quiet and reserved outside the classroom

if the others hear anyone talking shit about hotch behind his back, they’re always quick to come to his defense

they actually know hotch

they know he puts on a hardass exterior, but really he’s just a softie

he always lets them hang in his office with him

he listens to spencer’s ramblings and is extremely patient with him

he has lunch with emily every other day

even if she’s a pain in his ass 99% of the time, he likes that she sticks around and that he can trust her

he shows up to all of penelope’s art shows

and sometimes sits in on derek’s lectures when he has guest speakers

jj brings him pastries from the coffee shop on campus sometimes

he knows that he can come to her if he ever has anything he needs to talk about

(he never opens up to her but he really appreciates the sentiment nonetheless)

penelope has definitely made hotch a few sculptures

(he keeps them at home, but he does have one of her paintings hanging in his office)

speaking of his office it’s hands down the most organized out of all of them

his desk is so clean besides the picture of his son he proudly displays at the corner

he always has his lights off and his door shut

he seems so unapproachable, especially in class

but sometimes his lecture notes have crayon scribbles all over the page

or a small sock will fall out of his briefcase

and maybe, even for a moment, his serious demeanor falls when he spots them

and it almost reassures the students that he is human

Rossi

actually he’s the only one besides maybe reid i can see being a criminology professor

is a retired fbi agent

and successful author

so like that hasn’t changed from canon

but because he doesn’t work for the fbi anymore, he has absolutely no chill and tells all secrets

he’ll be like

talking to his class about a case he worked on in ‘83

and be halfway talking about details of cases that were supposed to be confidential

he’ll pause and go “oops” but keep talking lmaooo

penelope actually never made him a sculpture

instead she made him a coffee mug she made on the wheel and glazed herself!! (she even made her own glaze bc she’s extra like that)

carved on the side is “world’s best italian dad”

(this is because when emily introduced rossi to the group she was like “yeah he’s kinda like my dad” and now everyone calls him “dad”)

(he loves it so much though and proudly accepts his title)

he loves his mug so much and uses it every single day!!!

he’s the only professor besides penelope that let his students refer to him without the title of “professor”

he gives off kind old grandpa vibes

and that he’s only teaching because he really doesn’t have anything better to do during his retirement

but he’s chill and his class is interesting to take

(plus he really does love to teach)

he’ll ramble on and on about his “golden years” as an agent

he will especially talk a student’s ear off if they come up to him and tell him that they read one [or all] of his books

he writes a different quote on his board every single day

his attire is always business casual

he sits on the edge of the desk or on a swivel chair because it’s comfy

he was doing a lecture on jack the ripper and just pushed himself around on the swivel chair, slowly spinning around the front of the room

his voice kept changing in volume every few words because of him facing the wall and then a few moments later facing the classroom

his students refer to him as a “living breathing meme”

he has no idea what the fuck that means

but he take it as a compliment

his office is empty because he goes home after he’s done with classes lmao

he doesn’t do paperwork

or fuck with technology (he never fucking responds to emails smh)

so he has no need for an office

[blueikeproductions]

Still observing BotBots since there’s been a bit of time to better gage people’s reactions to the show.

General consensus I’m getting is mostly “S’ok, BUT…!” with the buts typically being art style quibbles and observations on the humor. One comment that stuck out described the humor as “early-mid SpongeBob” but with too much shouting and overexplaining the jokes after setting them up.

I’ve noticed some shows do that a lot lately, and I don’t get why. Is that a new hip thing to do? Am I that old? (I’m in my early 30’s as of typing but still). Either way, if you have to explain the joke constantly, that’s not a great indicator of your show’s humor to me. Screaming your lines isn’t much better, bad TUFF Puppy memories, and I was mostly ok with TUFF otherwise.

Art style quibbles are what I see most of in my orbit, and even I’m kind of questioning what was going on here. Going by Instagram posts promoting the show, it seems changing the art style was the first thing they focused on, with different experiments on the Lost Bots. Burgertron at one point was very muscular, having Launchpad McQuack and Optimus like proportions (I guess someone was having fun with Grade A Beef Cake jokes at that stage). That design seems to have been repurposed for a french fry BotBot though, and for some reason he makes me think of TFA Sentinel… Must be the chin.

The female Lost Bots‘ final designs, similar to their toys, use an androgynous look, but concept art had both with really defined hips and comically tiny waists that I can’t help but laugh at after some factions complained about most female TF body types being too sexy. (Even then that always felt like a double standard to me going by some of the same people being totally fine with Prime Arcee’s bikini get up...). Even then Kickme still has really long legs still (perfect for kicking naturally) and has this X-J9 as a Crash Test Dummy vibe so far removed from the Mamemon looking toy I‘m surprised it’s just not a separate characte called Goalie or Kickstart.

Dimlit had a phase where he looked like a robot from Dexter’s Lab, and Clogstopper at one point was closer to his toy but had a scuba gear motif I kinda wish was kept. I’m actually not even sure what they were going for with Clogstopper’s new design. He looks like a Family Guy character in crappy Iron Man armor and if you weren’t already aware of his toy, he looks like he Transforms into a tube of Krazy Glue instead of a plunger. Dave the security guard kinda weirds me out because he looks like a disheveled middle aged Flint Lockwood (not helped is he specifically reminds me of the animated series version visually. -shudders-), and my first thought with him is he’s the Mr. Crocker/Gargamel of the show out to get the BotBots. And while he still… more or less is this, surprisingly he’s actually a nice guy and when put into a position to prove the Bots exist, he doesn‘t and assures them they’ll be ok. This backfires of course because an earlier panic call to the authorities leads to, surprisingly, a Sector Seven agent to drop by to investigate the tiny robots.

Sector Seven is a surprise since that organization had never really made the leap from the movies to other major non movie media (it was honestly right there in Prime and other Aligned media had it tweaked its direction. Even Cybervers’s first season easily could’ve been Bee on the run from Seymour Simmons and other nosy Sector Seven agents for awhile instead of just Slipstream’s jets). It’s also a surprise the show could potentially have a plot beyond “lil’ TFs partying it up in a shopping mall”, dare I say a revelation as to how the Energon gas came to be and created the BotBots? That’s always been a weird detail to me since A it’s a surprising lack of the Allspark, and B Energon as life giving stuff hasn’t really been played up since, well, TF Energon, and C the toys’ storyline seems to imply the regular Transformers don’t even exist beyond an in-universe product. I had a Cyberverse crossover bit where the BotBots were the result of Cheetor and BlackArachnia dropping the Allspark in a mall they were passing through and the impact sent a wave of Energon that birthed the BotBots, but the possibility the show could go with its own elaboration to the origin of the Energon gas is interesting. Easy answer is Sector Seven obtained a sample from the regular Transformers fighting over a chunk, and upon studying it, accidentally detonated it, the resulting mist bathing the mall. But even then that’s wishful thinking, and there’s really no reason for them to do so. Sector Seven being a go to alien investigation government antagonist once again works just fine. Still Sector Seven being in a new cartoon makes me wonder if they have a role in EarthSpark and will have a more solidified role in future cartoons.

Still the show itself largely just seems to be ok, and that’s all good. It WAS trending on Netflix yesterday a little later in the early afternoon so more people were checking it out than I was expecting. The only TF stuff that’s been constantly popular and trending were RotF and DotM, meaning people were far more interested in the movies than BotBots for a moment. What does that tell you, lol, but either way, seems BotBots is being watched now. And as much as it seems I’m ragging on it, I DO genuinely hope it (and EarthSpark) do well to encourage Hasbro to experiment more with the brand again and to stop reheating stale ideas (Prime Wars, War For Cybertron and Cyberverse were all heavily tethered to G1 nostalgia and slightly unpopular modern ideas and IDW tendencies and offered very little new ideas. Not to mention both pretty much expected you to be already be intimately familiar with TFs going in to fill in gaps, that it’s no wonder the current kid audiences tuned it out but main stay adult fans latched on to both). BotBots is entry point friendly for new kids, and I especially hope that’s the case for EarthSpark as well.

One last observation. As noted before, the voice talent is the Nelvana cast popular for shows like Medabots, Bakugan and Total Drama, so fears of having the somewhat unpopular voice talent and direction from WFC and Cyberverse return so far isn‘t an issue, with a much welcome return to better voice acting. I’m wondering if EarthSpark might also be made up of Nelvana voice talent, and if so makes me curious who in the talent pool would be a good Prime, Bee and Megsy. The guy who voiced Metabee is currently the French fry BotBot, so I wonder what Transformer in EarthSpark could be given the Metabee treatment~! Prime, RiD15 and Rescue Bots shared the same talent pool, and similarly Cyberverse, WFC and RBA shared their own distinct voice talent, so it’s not out of the realm of possibility! However if not them, considering EarthSpark is a Nick show and those shows mostly keep to the same talent pool for their own stuff, what are the odds we could get Tom Kenny to reprise Starscream~?

[fuckyeahscienceparty]

Fighter (Lover)

Call me fighter, I'll mop the floor with you

Call me lover, I'll take you for a drink or two

You'll get older, and maybe then you'll feel some control...

-

HOO longest thing i've ever written lads :V hope y'all enjoy! title/description based on fighter by jack stauber bc i thought it was very fitting lol

-

Engie let out a strangled yell as he finally managed to land a solid hit on RED's Spy with his wrench, the familiar sound of crunching bone and the squelches of blood that accompanied it filling the air and splattering his overalls in French flavored crimson.

Not a very pretty way to die, and he almost felt bad for the fella, knowing from.... rather painful experience how excruciating it was to go through respawn after having your skull caved in. But almost was the keyword here, especially considering the fact that the bastard had unfortunately managed to sap both his dispenser and his sentry in the process, leaving him not only vulnerable to his fellow REDs but without the resources to actually get things up and running again.

What was extra unfortunate was that before he could get to either of them, they'd both managed to practically destroy both affected buildings, causing his dispenser to spark and sputter to a halt and his sentry to explode, sending components and pieces of shrapnel flying everywhere and barely giving Engie a chance to shield himself while hanging on to less than half of his health points.

Great. Just great.

He let out an annoyed grumble, anger rising in himself as he began to at least attempt damage control by basically tearing the sapper off of his dispenser with his bare hand. He didn't even care about all the little metal bits in his skin that tore through his shirt and were starting to make blood ooze out, staining his already sullied uniform. What he cared about was making sure that RED didn't take their final point and not having sentry up, even if it was just a level 1, was going to make that exceedingly difficult.

That being said, if he made it out of this alive, he was gonna have a field day getting all these stains out he mused to himself as his pried open the side panel of his dispenser. He reached for his toolbox, rummaging around for his wire cutters, twist on connectors, and a new set of wires to replace the ones the sapper had fried as he heard a chorus of bullets being fired from somewhere around the next point over.

He frowned. Those were much closer than they were 15 minutes ago. Better pick up the pace.

With a deft hand, he pulled out the wires and snipped out all the unsalvageable ones, tossing them in his toolbox to properly dispose of later. Twist on connectors wasn't exactly a Good fix to all the problems he knew that damn shock box had caused, but it would be good enough to last him until the end of the round.

...He hoped, at least.

After making quick work of the internals and closing the panel back up, he flipped the switch back on, waiting a few agonizing moments before the dispenser beeped at him a few times and whirred back to life.

Engie let out a weary sigh of relief as it slowly started healing his wounds, giving it a couple whacks with his wrench to get it into somewhat working order. It may have been knocked back down to level 1, but hey, at least it actually started up again! Finally, he had one thing was working in his favor!...

...But only the one thing. Now was the issue of getting his sentry back up, and with his dispenser back at level 1, just waiting around for metal wasn't exactly going to be an option this time.

After scanning the battlefield a few times, a disgruntled noise escaped him. Pyro was nowhere to be found. Just his luck. He grumbled to himself more as he picked his dispenser up and moved it to where he thought it would be at least a little less visible so he could go search for an ammo kit himself, keeping a hand on his pistol and his wits about him as he ventured into a nearby building.

He hated to leave any of his buildings unattended without Pyro around to cover for him (usually in return for a joyride into town the following weekend along with the sugariest fruit flavored item they could get from the local candy store), but he really didn't have the time to sit around and hope for the Chance that they'd 1). be in his field of view and 2). not be too busy to play guard dog for 5 or so minutes (5 minutes they could very understandably use to set some REDs running for the hills. or a fire extinguisher).

And as much as he would love to just waltz into BLU's resupply and pick up all the things he needed with little to no effort, he was currently stationed at second to last and the time it would take him to get there and back would be more than enough time for the REDs to not only destroy BLU's hopes and dreams but also to give way for his teammates to complain about how he hadn't been there to defend them.

(As if he wasn't doing enough for this damn team already.)

So taking a gamble with getting an ammo box was objectively his best bet at the moment. Was he happy about it in any metric? Absolutely not. Sure, he knew his way around the place and he actually knew that the building he was currently in housed the largest ammo kit you could find out in the field, but he also knew that other people knew that too. And that meant that there was a very real chance of running into one of them and not only failing to defend BLU's points and having to put up with his teammates' negging but also dying and gettin sent through respawn in the process.

But that's as if anything was really going his way today.

He hopped up the wooden stairs two at a time, knowing that the ammo kit was somewhere up on the top floor. He'd actually passed by the Medkit on the first and as tempted as he was to heal himself up a little, he also knew that any more time he wasted in there was time that could be used getting a sentry back up.

When he'd reached the second floor, the ammo box was just where he expected it to be, sitting next to a window that looked out over the battlefield, giving him a front and center view of BLU's second to last point. He could just about see a sliver of his dispenser, silently relieved that it was still there. From what he could see, RED and BLU were still fighting it out over the mid point, both teams having captured and then recaptured it several times already, only for the other to take it back.

Currently, it was still BLU's but something told him that if he didn't hurry, that was going to change soon.

He quickly scooped up the ammo box, eyebrows furrowing when the top of it came off with relative ease. Odd. You usually need to do at least a little prying with these suckers to get the tops to pop off. He then rummaged around in it to make sure it had what he needed, confusion deepening when he realized that there weren't any syringe cartridges in the box.

And that's when he heard a slight rustling from somewhere just out of his peripheral vision.

He immediately dropped the box, bullets and miscellaneous parts spilling everywhere as he turned around and reached for his pistol.

However, he ended up getting a spray of syringes to the arm, letting out a strained cry as he instead grabbed his pistol with his other hand and randomly fired it in the direction of where the syringes had come from.

His guesswork was pleasantly met with a very loud "FUCK", his eyes finally focusing on a very irritated looking RED Medic who now sported a bullet wound in his non dominant shoulder.

"You wanna dance? Let's fuckin' tango, buddy," Engie muttered mainly to himself, only just about bearing the pain as he tore anywhere from 4-7 syringes out of his arm and dropped them to the floor.

He tried to shoot his newfound opponent again but his bullets made splinters rather than punctured flesh, Engie fully aware that his normally serviceable aim was probably off thanks to the searing pain in his... well, everything, cursing under his breath regardless.

However, before he could even process what to do next, the enemy Medic made a dive for him, the two of them tussling to the floor and struggling with each other for the right to end someone's life.

Engie was able to momentarily able to wiggle his arm out of the other's grasp, managing a solid hit on RED Medic's face that he was pretty sure ended up breaking his nose.

That really only seemed to make him angrier though, the two of them continuing to wrestle it out until Medic finally managed to come out on top, having practically straddled Engie's chest as he pinned down both of his arms to the ground. The both of them struggled to take in air, Engie still making feeble attempts to escape his captivity with little success.

If this weren't a life or death situation, he probably would've told RED Medic that he was rather handsome, even with a broken nose and blood dripping out his mouth and onto Engie's shirt. Truth be told, Engie had always thought him attractive and if the two of them weren't enemies by uniform color, he probably would've asked him if he wanted to go out for a drink some time.

But even if life or death prevented him from attempting to woo the man who he'd just shot, Engie couldn't help but be immensely frustrated with himself, eventually just letting out a wheeze of defeat as he gave out from exhaustion.

"Just- just fucking do it please, I'm really not goddamn having it right now," He growled out, causing RED Medic to squint and tilt his head at him. After all, it wasn't every day that your enemy practically begged you to off them after they (quite understandably) just tried to strangle you.

"Hey, Stitches, you hear me? Just cut my head off or steal my organs or whatever, make my godawful day into an even more godawful one," He reiterated, Medic unable to suppress a chuckle despite how tired he was.

"Sorry- steal your organs? Do you really think I'm going to do that?" He grinned incredulously.

"Dunno. You just seem like the type," Engie said dryly, Medic letting out a cackle.

"Well just because you made me laugh, I'll make this quick. You don't seem particularly happy right now," Medic vocalized, shifting so that he could pin both of Engie's arms down with one hand and reach for Engie's pistol that had gotten knocked out of his grasp in their scuffle with the other.

Stronger than he looks. Engie couldn't tell if his heart beating faster because he was literally about to die or because an item was added to the list of "reasons why I want to take my enemy out to dinner."

...Might be both.

"Golly gee, what gave that away?" Engie deadpanned, feeling the muzzle of his own pistol pushing against his forehead. RED Medic chuckled again.

"No hard feelings, right my friend?" he smiled at him, almost apologetically. At least Engie thinks it's apologetically. Kinda hard to tell with all the blood that wasn't in his body.

He closed his eyes, bracing himself.

"Nah. None at all."

...

BANG!

...And not even 20 seconds later, he suddenly materialized in BLU's main respawn room, immediately grimacing from the skull splitting headache he was saddled with; the unfortunate side effects of being shot in the head. Respawn could only do so much, after all.

He moved to open the resupply cabinet to just get what he needed and get the hell out of there before he was startled by the intercom crackling to life, Engie's stomach sinking when he heard the very familiar "YOU FAILED" accompanied by almost comically sad music.

Had he really been gone that long? He didn't even hear the Admin announcing that mid had been capped, let alone second to last, and surely he would've heard it even if he was being held up by RED's local handsome devil.

But his teammates slowly filing in with various injuries seemed to confirm their defeat, Engie sighing as he reached into the cabinet for a bottle of aspirin instead of a case of bullets.

"Hrr Mrnrph!" Pyro mumbled out as they made their way in, Scout with his arm around their shoulders for support as he hobbled in as well.

"Yo, Engie, where the hell were you?" Scout frowned, clearly peeved about losing that day's round.

"Yeah, maggot, we thought you were on second to last! Their damn Scout somehow slipped by us and ended up capping both of ours after RED capped mid again," Soldier added, Engie sighing. Of course this was going to be blamed on him.

"Sorry, fellas. Spy managed to sap both my sentry and my dispenser and their Medic got me when I was tryin' to get supplies. I was hoping y'all would be able to hold mid long enough for me to get back but that. Obviously did not happen."

"Oh, so it's our fault now?"

"Hey, I'm not sayin' it's anyone's fault, I'm just sayin' that they got the best of us today. We'll give it another go tomorrow, like we always do."

Scout obviously seemed unhappy by the notion but decided it best to shut his trap when Demo gave him A Look because even Scout knew that Demo was not one to fuck with. Engie knew he didn't actually intend real harm, he just tended to run his mouth with things he didn't necessarily mean. Didn't make his life any easier, though.

"Listen, I think we've all had a long day. Let's just get patched up an' relax before tomorrow," Demo interjected, the rest of the team making various sounds of agreement as the final members of their menagerie made their way in.

As he walked past, Medic gave him a conciliatory look that Engie could only give him a knowing smile in return for. They both knew what it was like for the entire team's failure to be blamed on their shoulders alone. Usually it was Medic who received the brunt of it, especially when he'd just been transferred in, but Engie was no stranger to complaints on his off days about how he should've been better or how could've done more.

It made him want to tear his own ears off. Not only because it was annoying as all hell because you didn't see him out here blaming the entire team's loss on one damn person's slip up, but because it was the kind of shit that he told himself when he was younger and it brought him back to times he didn't necessarily want to remember.

He was suddenly brought out of his brooding by Pyro walking up to him, Scout seemingly having limped his way back into base on his own.

"Mrr rrhrrh hrrph phr nrr rphmm hrr rr phrrhrrk phr rrr," They mumbled out sadly, holding their arms out to offer an apology hug and very much looking like a kicked puppy. Engie let off a soft "aw."

"Shucks, Firefly, it ain't your fault. Can't expect ya to baby me all the time, can I?" He joked, pulling them in anyways. Only a monster could refuse Pyro hugs, after all.

Pyro squeezed him tightly, nearly lifting him off the ground despite the fact that they were only a couple inches taller than he was as Engie was momentarily overwhelmed with the familiar scent of kerosene and singed rubber.

When they finally let go, Engie gave them a gentle pat on the head.l

"You go inside now, hey? I gotta check if my dispenser's still out there and you probably got your own injuries you should have Doc look at," He told them, Pyro nodding at him and giving him an affirmatory wheeze. They then gave him another quick squeeze before waddling their way inside, boots squeaking every so often.

Engie sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Oh well. Nothing he could do now but prep for tomorrow.

He sat in respawn for a little while waiting for the aspirin to kick in and only decide it was time to get going when he finally felt like his brain wasn't trying to squeeze itself down his spinal cord.

After making the trek to second to last, he was pleasantly surprised to see that his dispenser was still on. And also there at all.

(To be fair, RED and BLU had been fighting over mid for so long that RED's Scout probably hadn't bothered to destroy what wasn't shooting at him in a desperate attempt to end the godforsaken match already. He couldn't say that he'd blame him.)

He was also surprised, though not as pleasantly, to see someone waiting for him. Specifically, someone in glasses and a tie that, even though it was covered in blood, had a face that was both painfully smug and oddly endearing.

Though they were technically now in ceasefire until battle tomorrow, he still instinctively reached for his pistol, blinking and looking down when he realized his holster was empty.

"I believe you're looking for this?" RED Medic asked as he picked said pistol up off of his dispenser, Engie nodding cautiously.

"Relax, dummkopf, I'm not going to shoot you. The bullet that was in your head was actually the last one in the magazine anyways," Medic snorted, demonstrating by pulling the trigger while pointing the weapon to the ground and coming up with nothing but empty clicks.

Regardless, he still offered it to Engie butt first, Engie himself still wary but a little less hesitant as he took a few more steps forward and took it in his hand.

"Apologies. I actually meant to put it back into your holster before you went through respawn but I didn't have adequate time. You pack quite a punch," Medic smirked lightly, Engie's attention suddenly being drawn to his still broken nose.

He grinned sheepishly.

"Heheh, yeah, mama taught me well... No hard feelin's though, yeah?" Engie sticking his pistol in its place and his hand out to the doctor, Medic letting out an amused huff at his own words being used against him.

"No hard feelings," He assured, shaking Engie's hand.

"I should probably be off now, I can practically hear my gaggle of idiots begging me to heal their boo boos from all the way out here," He then snorted, Engie letting out a chuckle.

"All good. I should prolly get the ol' girl back to the workshop. Damn sappers always do a number on the internals," He grimaced, thinking about all proper rewiring and circuit board replacement he was going to have to do, not to mention normal maintenance and cleanup.

"As I've heard. Our own Engineer has some particularly... colorful words on what he thinks of your Spy."

"Bit of a wily bastard, that one. Can't say I blame him," Engie shrugged, leaning against his dispenser for support and suddenly feeling face flush as Medic did the same, the two of them now so close that their elbows touched in the middle.

If Medic noticed, he didn't immediately let on, merely smiling at him.

"That we can all agree on, I think. What is it with Spies and deciding to be bastards? Is it a profession thing, does it just come naturally to them?" He said mirthfully, leaning in close enough that their noses were close to touching.

...Never mind, he absolutely noticed.

"'s gotta be, right? I mean, it's the only explanation for why they're all so dickish. That or the ones we've been in contact with just happen to be persnickety lil fucks," Engie grinned, Medic laughing loudly in response.

It only made him grin even wider. Medic's laugh had to be in a class of its own. Borderline obnoxious in nature but somehow brash and unapologetic while still being absolutely ridiculous.

Man, was it just something to die for (which he.. technically supposed he did).

"Ah, look at me, babbling about. I really should get going before I waste any more of your time," he said when giggles finally stoped threatening to rise out of his throat, Engie feeling a sudden pang of disappointment in his chest. He merely waved him off with a soft "shucks, weren't nothin'" as he tipped his hat, Medic giving him a firm pat on the shoulder.

"It was nice talking with you, Herr Engineer. Perhaps we can meet again some time," He smiled before turning to make his leave.

Engie closed his eyes. This was a bad idea, this was a bad idea, don't do it, don't do it Dell, don't FUCKING do it-

"Hey, uh. Stitches."

Medic paused before turning around again.

"Are you... free this weekend?"

An amused glint suddenly appeared in Medic's eyes.

"Well seeing as we all have weekends off, yes, I should be. Why do you ask?"

"You, uh. You wanna grab a drink with me, this Saturday, maybe? I know this pretty good place not too far out and uh. I dunno, 'd be fun to uh. See ya again outside of work, I guess," Engie stumbled out, putting a hand on the back of his neck.

"...I'd like that. I'd like that a lot," Medic smiled, Engie's face lighting up.

"Great! Uhm. I uh, I guess. Meet me on y'all's second to last at about 6? I know how to avoid all the cameras, so," Engie offered, Medic raising an eyebrow at him.

"...Hey, when you live out your days fighting people to the death for an old dinosaur who would skin you alive and turn you into the coat given the chance, finding out where her cameras and all their blindspots are isn't that much of a hassle. We're actually in one right now. Wouldn't've asked you out otherwise," He shrugged, Medic holding his hands up in response.

"I'm not one to judge. Whatever gets me out of playing team mama for the night. I'll just tell them I joined a book club or whatever. And if they don't believe me... well I think a saw to the skull might convince them," Medic said, suddenly pulling out his Ubersaw with a malicious grin.

Engie had to physically restrain himself from saying "hot" in response.

"Heheh, yeah, I bet it might. I'll uh. See you later then," He coughed out, moving to put his dispenser into compact mode and pack it back into his toolbox.

When he stood up with it resting on his shoulder, however, Medic was standing right in front of him, nearly causing it to slip out of his hands.

Medic barely stifled a laugh at his shock, gently removing his hardhat and leaning down to give him a kiss on the forehead.

"It's a date then," He hummed cheerily before putting Engie's hardhat back on his head and making his return to RED, leaving Engie with his hat slightly askew and his face moderately flushed.

And that's when if hit him. A date. He had just asked his actual, literal enemy who had shot him in the head about 30 minutes ago, on a date. And he said yes.

He didn't know if he wanted to scream, punch something, or throw himself off a bridge. Probably all three, if he was honest.

Despite all that, he practically forced himself to turn around and begin making his way back to BLU, readjusting his tool box every so often so it wouldn't slip out of his hands. What the hell was he doing, breaking contract like this? He means sure, he wasn't particularly one for rules anyhow, he's pretty sure he's committed more than a few atrocities against the heavens in his lifetime, and the Admin wasn't always on his case for every little infraction he'd ever made anyways. But between her and God, it was the Admin he feared more and he knew that if there was one rule that the she enforced, it was that cross faction relations were NOT tolerated and were more than a warrant for termination.

Termination of contract or termination of your life? Depended on how nice she was feeling that day.

Needless to say, he was very frustrated with himself.

But then he remembered how drop dead (haha) gorgeous Medic was even when he was bleeding all over Engie's shirt and the way hearing his laugh had made him felt and the way that glint made it look like he had stars in his eyes and...

...Aw hell, if he was going to get fired (or die! both was very possible) for this he might as well go down after having had a good time.

Now all he had to do was make it to Saturday. While also not giving anything away.

Piece of fucking cake.

[i-did]

A guide for proper terminology for Nicky Hemmick:

Written by me, a Mexican-American.

Latin American: someone from Latin America, this includes Mexico but not Spain. Latin America is multi ethnic, and not just Spanish speaking, the non Spanish speaking countries of Latin America are Brazil, Belize, Suriname, Guyana, French Guiana, and the Falkland Islands.

Latino: decent from Latin America, similar to saying Latin American, but can include people born in America of Latin American decent. People don't really say "Latin American American," they say Latino American. (Latina = woman, and Latine = neutral but not commonly used, often typed Latin@s online for shorthand to include both). Latin American countries are very diverse, some are dominantly black/Afro-Latino.

Afro-Latino: Afro-Latin Americans are dominantly from African decent, some Latin American countries are majorly black/Afro-Latino. when used outside of Latin America it can mean someone who’s mixed black and Latino. 

Latinx: "gender neutral" term for Latino, but probably made by white people because .... Spanish words don't end in x, and x isn't pronounced that way in Spanish, for example the name Xitlali (sometimes spelled Zitlali and other variations, but pronounced like an S). Honestly say Latino/Latinos or Latin@s, and in online queer spaces Latine/Latines.

Chicano: Latin American decent but born in America.

Hispanic: related to Spain, colonized by Spain, so this includes Spain but not Brazil, which is a Latin American country.

Mexican: a person from Mexico living in America, for example Nicky's mom, but often also casually used to mean Mexican Americans (or Latino/Chicanos in general).

Mexican American: Latin American decent born into America. Unlike chicano, it is associated more with the idea of assimilation into white America, but not always.

Mexicano: what Mexicans call themselves in Mexico (feminine is Mexicana).

TexMex: people who were living in Mexico, and then America bought/stole the land and said "this is also America now, you can leave or stay" and they stayed. They became Americans, Texas Mexican American culture is different than for example SoCal Mexican American culture because of this, (but still more in common with each other than not).

Anglo: someone who is non Latino, usually in reference to someone who lives in the America's that were colonized by British people and English is the standard spoken language, ex/ North Americans and Canadians who aren't Latino. Usually in reference to white people but not always. If someone is Asian American and constantly purposefully mispronounces my name, instead of being like "🙄white people" I can be like "🙄 Anglos" (or I could say gringo, which is not as nice of a term for anglo). I honestly don’t know if I can call a spaniard anglo, but I assume not, since they're not Anglo-Saxon, which is where the term comes from.

despite what the media represents, not all Latino’s are Mexican! although the two terms are often used interchangeably when they’re really not. there are 32 other countries besides Mexico in Latin America.

Mexican is technically a nationality, but because of colonialism it’s not that simple. Race dynamics work differently in different countries. Most Mexicanos are not connected with their mixed indigenous ancestors, while some still are, like the Maya. It is something that has been taken from us and has evolved into its own thing. Some Mexicanos are lighter than others, sometimes by being more related to the Spanish than the indigenous. Mexico has a huge problem with colorism and class divide as well as overall racial tension.

Mexico is also not only "white/more Spanish" "more brown" and "fully indigenous, culturally and ethnically", there are afro-latinos (like mentioned before), and also Asian latinos, specifically a large amount of Chinese immigrants from when China became communist, middle eastern latinos, etc. Latin America has immigrants too! 

I have a friend who is fully Korean but grew up in Guatemala, I have another friend from Brazil who is 100% of polish and Ashkenazi decent, her grandparents having escaped to Brazil during WWII, but she and her parents grew up and spent their whole lives in Brazil, they are Latin Americans. 

List of things Nicky's mom Maria is:

Mexican, Mexicana, Latina, Latin American, 'Hispanic' but like.... outdated term and usually when people use this they just mean Latin@.

List of things Nicky is:

Mexican-American, Latino, "Mexican" in the broad sense of the word.

Describing Nicky or his mother as "looking hispanic" doesn't really make sense because he takes after his mother who is described as very dark and therefore less Spanish decent and more indigenous decent, she's from a Spanish speaking country so... its not technically wrong, but Nicky is from and English speaking one and doesn't speak Spanish, so it doesn't really make sense.

He isn't Chicano and neither is she, she wasn't born in America and Nicky doesn't identify as Chicano or in general much with his mothers culture beyond visible features. He is never mentioned to make Mexican food, listen to Latin American music, or other aspects of Latino culture in general. He chose to go to Germany instead of Spain or Latin America, and he talked Aaron out of taking Spanish in exchange for German so Nicky could help him with his homework, (meaning he doesn't know Spanish, which many Mexican Americans don't know).

saying Nicky “looked Mexican” or “looked brown” isn’t a bad thing, Neil in the books says he’s two shades too dark to be considered tan, so... stop tip-toeing around it and call him brown instead of tan. It’s not a bad thing to be brown, and It’s not a bad thing to be Mexican. maybe I’m just from somewhere with a lot of Mexican-Americans, but when I look at people I can tell they’re not Anglos, or I think to myself “oh another Mexican” or at least “brown person” vs when I see a white person I think “white person.” I’m not face blind, I know that different races exist and look different and can see such trends in real people in the same way that when I look at a little girl I go “oh a little girl” not “what sex is this weird hairless animal, what is this alien”.

these concepts are a lot more complicated in practice, I get told often I don’t “look Mexican” but so does one of my cousins who’s afro latino and plays professional basketball in Mexico. Gender is fake but the majority of people we see are still falling into two categories on sight, it’s how we’re socially trained. 

I'm also not an encyclopedia, if you think I made a mistake let me know and I'll check it out. A lot of this was just off the top of my head and words I just learned from.... existing, I didn't exactly look them all up in the dictionary.

Also if you’re writing Nicky, don’t be afraid to get a sensitivity reader, @sensitivityreaders is a good resource for this, and so is @writingwithcolor

[leedosbunnyboy]

Eunchae; Nobody Knows

Genre: Fluff spiraling into Angst

Pairing: Eunchae x M!Reader (could also be gender neutral)

Requested: no

Warning(s): none

Summary: As idols, you and Eunchae knew the risks, but you both knew it was all worth it to be in each other's embrace.

(Inspired by Nobody Knows - Dia)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s still not clear

It’s just dark like my mood

It will rain like this today

I want to stop listening to sad songs

My feelings are getting depressed

Will it rain until tonight?

"Noona, why do you always listen to these types of songs during rainstorms?" You ask your girlfriend, Eunchae, who currently has your head in her lap.

"I just like how it affects the atmosphere." Euncahe explains while she continues to play with your hair.

"I sometimes feel like we're in a drama." You joke.

She giggles and places a kiss to your forehead.

"I geuss it does feel like that." She smiles and interlaces your hands.

She notices how your eyelids seem to falter and drop.

"You can sleep you know. There's no need to stay awake for me." She reassures you.

"I know, but I want to spend all our moments together." You yawn and shift to get more comfortable.

"Get some sleep babe. I'm not going anywhere."

It’s annoying to carry an umbrella all day

But my shoes will get wet anyway

Even today I am mingled with meaningless thoughts,

And send you in the rain so nobody knows

"Babe! Come on, you're gonna get wet." You call to Eunchae.

"That's the point!" She laughs while spinning around in the rain.

"Hurry up and get under the umbrella." You say and hold out the very big, very annoying umbrella.

She rushes to you and pulls you into the rain, causing you to drop the umbrella.

"Why'd you do that!" You excalim as you instantly get soaked.

"Just enjoy the moment." Eunchae says and begins to hop around in small puddles.

You gaze lovingly at how she always seems to be in a good mood.

You put your annoyance behind you and join Eunchae in her fun.

Sure, you'd probably wake up with colds tomorrow, but a cold is temporary compared to long lasting memories.

Knock knock in the rain

Knock knock pass my heart

Again again to you

Surely surely can you tell me everything

More more carefully

Nobody knows

"Open." Eunchae tells you and holds a French fry to your mouth.

You do as told and eat the fry; Eunchae laughing at your cute expression.

"Noona." She hears.

"Yes dear?" She replies.

"I just wanted to tell you how pretty you are." You cheekily state.

"Thank you love." She blushes.

"And how much I love you." You continue, taking her hand into yours to place a chaste kiss to her knuckles.

Eunchae wants nothing more than to relish in this moment, but it's all thrown out the window once she spots a group of your fans heading your way.

"We should go." She hurriedly says and tosses your food.

You dont even question her as you'd already heard the mob of girls.

You both quickly put on your masks and hats before rushing out the restuarant hand-in-hand.

"That was close." You laugh.

Eunchae really wanted to be mad at you for taking such a close encounter so non seriously, but instead she just laughs along and places a kiss to your cheek.

"Let's get home before your fangirls find us and tear me to shreds." She jokes.

"They'd have to get through me first." You say whilst jokingly flexing.

Little did either of you know, this was just the first of many close calls.

It didn’t work out again today

I’m walking heavily

I hope the rain will stop tomorrow

I’ll only be sad until today

When the rain stops

I can still smile from tomorrow

"Babe, can I come see you?" Eunchae asks through the phone, although she already knew the answer.

"Sorry baby, we have to prepare for our comeback." You tell her.

Being from a bigger company, and being apart of a group more popular than Dia, Eunchae knew there would be times where you schedules simply couldn't work together.

"But I promise, as soon as I'm done promoting, I'll come see you and we'll spend a whole week together, okay Noona?"

She smiles at your adorable answer. "Of course babe." She says before hanging up.

A slight setback she hoped.

I’m not going to use an umbrella from today

I’ll erase all my memories of you

To deceive the tears flowing in the rain

I’ll let you go so nobody knows

《Breaking News! Dia's Eunchae and (G/n)'s (M/n) reported to be dating! Find out more here!》

Eunchae looked at her phone terrified.

She knew this day was coming, yet she constantly hoped to God it never did.

"Are you going to be okay?" Chaeyeon asked her.

"I don't know." Eunchae wept.

"Are you gonna call him?" Yebin asked.

"He's probably in trouble right now, he wouldn't pick up." She sadly states.

A knock on the door scares the three girls.

"Manager wants to talk to you." Huihyeon says, a look of worry adorns her face.

Knock knock in the rain

Knock knock pass my heart

Again again to you

Surely surely can you tell me everything

More more carefully

Nobody knows

《Dia's Eunchae and (G/n)'s (M/n) reportedly broke up! Find out more here!》

Eunchae knew it was the best decision, but why did it feel like the wrong decision.

She felt everything in her heart: pain, fear, longing, remorse.

She wanted nothing more than to hold you in her arms and for you to tell her 'everything's gonna be alright.' But she knew that would probably never happen again.

Eunchae cried herself to sleep that night.

And the next.

And the next night.

And the night after that.

I know I shouldn’t want to be caught

But I’ll try and laugh

I want to leave this umbrella before it rains

I don’t need it anymore

You both regularly saw eachother at music shows.

The tension that filled the room when you did could be felt by everyone.

She kept telling herself it was for the best, but she knew she couldn't hide her love for you.

Yet, she tried her best to make sure no one caught her quick glances, her subtle smiles when you were on stage, how you made her blush when you winked on stage at her.

She knew it was wrong, what would happen if she got caught, but she couldn't care less.

She wanted to be caught, yet she knew to be strong. And simply steered clear of you, much to the dismay of you and her heart.

Knock knock in the rain

Knock knock pass my heart

Again again to you

Surely surely can you tell me everything

More more carefully

Nobody knows

"Noona! Look at all the little rabbits!" You smile as you play with one.

"You two look alike." She jokes.

"Do we really?" You ask and hold up the small rabbit, making a funny face imitating the rabbit.

Eunchae smiled solemnly while again replaying the video on her phone.

The video was almost a year old, yet she watched it everyday just see your smile, to hear you voice, to relish in the features she loved so much.

She'd tried to move on, but deep down, she knew that was impossible.

She wondered how you were doing. If you had found someone new.

As for her, she continued to love you, but she knew she had to keep it secret, so that...

Nobody Knows.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(I know this isnt the usual mlm, but I really wanted to write about my other ult. I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you guys enjoy. Also, I reccomend you check out Dia. They are so underrated and have amazing music. Their song 'Nobody Knows' is the inspiration for this, and it's an amazing song.)

[pollenat]

RED VELVET and 5 ways to say I love you

➛ Note: Non-verbal, mind you.

IRENE

Her hand automatically reaching for a lost strand of hair you haven’t noticed yet. The fingertips feel so soft on your skin, you want to grab her fingers and kiss the top of each one. But these are just thoughts. In reality you freeze, struggling with the fast rhythm of your beating heart. Joohyun smiles softly, quickly going back to whatever it was she was busy with before.

The drastic change in her behavior when your hands pull her hips close to yours. As much as you want to lead her, you turn weak upon looking into her beautiful eyes. Joohyun’s smile melts away, letting something dangerous take place. You cannot pinpoint exactly what it is, but the sight makes your thighs tingle.

Waking up in the middle of the night. Joohyun rarely embraces you when asleep, but at that moment her hands are painfully tight around your torso. In fact, she’s so strong you can’t turn around to check her face for any sign of discomfort. All you can do is remain still, and wait for her to either speak or loosen the grip.

Turning on your phone after it’s completely charged, only to yelp in surprise at the amount of missed calls. All from Joohyun. With a bad feeling, you dial her back. She doesn’t leave you waiting for long. “Why didn’t you pick up your phone? I was worried sick!” You have to pull the phone away from your ear. Joohyun is nagging you like crazy, but you know that she just cares a lot.

The feeling of water washing over your back, as you reach for a bottle of shower gel. But instead of finding the one that Joohyun is so religious about, you pull out the one you’re used to. The realization makes you take a double look at the small shower shelf. You’re 100% sure the owner of the bathroom you’re currently using is your girlfriend, not you. Was it Joohyun’s subtle way of telling you something, or was it just her caring nature that put the bottle on her shopping list?

SEULGI

Watching her throw herself face down on the spot next to yours. As soon as she turns to show you the tired smile, you’re stunned by the sheer happiness of seeing her. “What? Do I have something on my face?” Instead of answering, you extract a giggle out of her with a tight hug. “You’re going to choke me!” but you know she’s enjoying it just as much.

The plate of french toasts she went out of her way for. It’s a welcome surprise, but it also makes you feel bad. Seulgi waves away any words coming out of your mouth, her shy smile directed at the plate as she awaits the first bite. “Do you like it?” her mouth widens much more when you nod your head yes.

Blaming yourself for ruining her day when it ends with her hand pressing a bag of frozen pees to your forehead. You were supposed to to go out, have fun at a trendy place. Instead, your head collided with a corner of a cupboard you didn’t notice. “It’s okay! Stop frowning.” she gently pats your cheek with her hand. Seulgi’s smile is honest, but you can’t stop the feeling of distaste you have for yourself.

The metal cookie box, hidden between books on a shelf. You still remember the taste of its content, although your primary reason for buying it was the retro packaging. Now, its filled with numerous polaroids of Seulgi and you, taken with her beloved instax. Beneath the photographs lie scraps of paper, with love confessions written on, cinema tickets, restaurant receipts, event leaflets. All working as some sort of proof that what you have with your girlfriend is real.

Her indifference to the fact that she just walked inside your house with a bouquet of flowers. Every week she replaces the previous one with a bunch of fresh petals, never once being brave enough to hand them to you. Instead, the first thing she does after entering, is pull out a vase and fill it with water. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Seulgi shyly looks away whenever you ask her about it.

WENDY

That one evening when instead of letting her sit on the opposite side of the bathtub, you tug her to lean on your chest. She feels small in your hold, but the embrace you’re offering prevents her from sliding down the slick surface. Wendy giggles shyly when she notices the colorful remnants of a bath bomb falling down to reveal naked skin of her legs. “Pretty.” she mutters, the word audible only to you.

Her stiff dancing at your family’s reunion. In a different context, and after more drinks, she would be doing her best to make you laugh with her moves. Yet, curious glances of your aunts and uncles stop Seungwan from anything radical. “Oh my god they’re judging me.” “They are not judging you!” “They’re your family, of course they do!”

Swinging your interlocked fingers while passing other pedestrians on the sidewalk. The night sky is clear, stars frozen under the moon’s watchful gaze. Seungwan’s excited chatter works as a pleasant accompaniment to the walk. You’re listening to her plans, genuinely curious and just as happy to be involved in them.

Squishing her cheeks when she’s not paying attention to you. Seungwan looks offended, frowning at the little pain you’ve caused her. “What was that for?” she asks. You don’t answer, instead hugging her in the middle, and hiding your face in her neck. Bewildered, she laughs awkwardly above your head, hesitating only for a moment, before returning the embrace.

The faces she makes after you call her “baby”. Seungwan’s face is naturally expressive, always going from one extreme to the other. Always making you laugh from the amount of fondness they generate. Still, “baby” is a special type of treat. Seungwan may swear she hates the term of endearment, but you know she doesn’t mean it. Just a look at her face is enough to confirm your thoughts.

JOY

Walking home late at night. Her body is leaning on yours for support after one too many drinks. Slender fingers eventually curl around your arm, as she laughs at something you said. You think to yourself that she looks the prettiest like that - smiling so widely, she struggles to keep her eyes open. Determined to keep the image of happiness as long as possible, you continue saying nonsense, hopeful her intoxicated mind finds it funny.

The afternoons she decides she wants to eat fast food. You’re not one to decline, especially since it’s her asking. You can’t even act annoyed when her red lips open widely to welcome a burger you’re holding. She has her own food, and you want to argue, but you can’t say no when her eyes are staring into your soul.

Zipping up the material on Sooyoung’s back. You’re biting down the lower lip, trying to ignore the warmth in your cheeks. It should be a normal thing to do. You’re just helping your girlfriend with a piece of clothing way more complicated than a simple T-shirt. No biggie. Then why are you so overwhelmed by everything? As you reach the neckline, your eyes meet Sooyoung’s in the mirror, and you can’t help but look away.

The feeling od disappointment you can’t shake off when the noise of your phone doesn’t announce an incoming text from Sooyoung. It’s someone else, asking you about plans. Although too shy to admit it to anyone but yourself, you’d rather meet with the person you expected to write.

Jumping not at the scare, but Sooyoung’s terrified shriek. Right after, her head hits yours, as she tries to keep down nervous giggles. The stranger sitting on your other side gives her a stink eye, but you don’t comment, instead turning towards her to smile from amusement. “I didn’t expect it, okay?” Sooyoung takes the hand you offer to her, more than satisfied with the result of a little adrenaline rush.

YERI

A series of different drinks you’ve ordered to taste test, and her overdone frown after having a classic (although too sour) lemonade. She gets angry when you refuse to take a sip of the same beverage. “Suffer with me!” “No!” “Do it!” “Shouldn’t you protect me?” “Shouldn’t you join my suffering?” “That would be very dumb of me!”

Wiping singular drops of rain off of your camera lens. Yerim is shivering under her long trench coat, the cold wind pulling at her ponytail. Aside from you, the photographer, and her, the model, nobody shows up in front of Rome’s Trevi Fountain, everyone scared of the incoming dark clouds. Maybe that’s better. You have nobody to ruin pictures of your beloved.

The maddening silence of your car ride. Yerim doesn’t even look at you, gaze stubbornly turned in the opposite direction. Any words you think of feel useless, so you don’t let anything reach her ears. Even if you’re no longer angry, the atmosphere is just too awkward for you to act upon. Instead, you soak in pity, missing the normal.

Pulling the curtain away, to reveal your styling to Yerim’s expectant eyes. She doesn’t even try to hold back laughter, as you pose as ridiculously as possible. Her hand does a poor job of hiding the wide smile she’s sporting. “What? Don’t you like it?” you tease her, the boa scarf landing around Yerim’s neck in a flirty manner. “No, no.” she snickers “I genuinely love it. Can’t wait to see you dressed in that at my cousin’s wedding.”

Braiding the laces at the end of her scarf as you await a taxi. It’s a cold winter evening, but at least it isn’t snowing. Yerim’s breath takes over your vision every once in a while. You don’t make a move to escape it, content with being so close to her. Even nicer is the feeling of her hands hiding in the pockets of your coat. Specifically, of fingers drumming a tuneless melody on your thighs.

➛ pollenat’s list of reactions

➛ pollenat’s list of shorts

[gremlin-writes-angst]

The Unkissable Prince : Ch 2

Chapter 1 here!!

2.9 k words

Trigger warning: Cursing(?) Kissing (non-descriptive) Insecurities, rude comments

Let me know if I missed a trigger or if you spot any spelling mistakes.

Feedback is encouraged!!!

Click here if you want to see more of my work and follow me for more!

The past few weeks the cast had been working hard to make something they could be proud of, and they were proud of what they had accomplished so far as a group, but problems arise in individuals. Most of the actors were in their last year of high school and had other problems and worries this late in the school year. Lunch was one of the only times they could relax without having to do school work or production work. It was a time of fun relaxation, laughs and for some, it was a time to make new relationships or for some to evolve.

Denki and Shinso had been working together during rehearsal almost every time the actors were given time to work on individual character work. Even though Denki was who Shinso worked with the most, Denki was always disappointed when Shinso worked with another actor. Now Shinso was a part of the theater kid group, even during lunch. Currently, most of the students in the production were having lunch together and it was only the second week that Shinso was a part of this lunch group and he had taken notice of something. For one he noticed the closeness of Tokoyami the actor playing Scully and Aoyama the french boy who played the french chef in the show, he assumed that they were together or were getting to that type of relationship. He also noticed that mina was Ursala, not that she was naturally Ursula but she constantly in character, basically method acting, and it scared most of the none theater people. What he took notice of most was how they treated Denki, for the most part, it was harmless jokes that could be taken the wrong way. What he was really unsure of was how Jiro treated him, her jokes were more insults than the others, half the time he couldn’t tell if she was even trying to joke about it. Shinsou could tell that Denki was affected by Jiro’s words, and he was too. Mostly because her insults were always about other’s feelings toward Denki. Things like

“Your so annoying, it makes people hate you.”

“It’s hard being around you when you are so stupid.”

"I still don’t how you landed the prince role when you the furthest thing from a prince .”

“It’s so hard to act like I’m in love with prince eric when you’re the one playing him.”

“I’m not surprised that you’ve never been in a relationship, I pray for your future partner.”

That last few ones were the ones that hurt Shinso because he was a part of denkis prince Eric’s portrayal. The last one also struck a chord with him because he liked Denkieven before they become friends, he was almost hopelessly in love with Denkinow that they got to spend time together. Even though Jiro’s comments hurt both Denkiand Shinsou, neither of them was able to stand up to her. All Shinsou could do was find a way to comfort Denki when they were alone.

Later in the day after school now at rehearsal, once again Shinso was hoping from person to person helping them during their individual work. Denki was running over his lines, memorizing, blocking, and figuring out how to say each word, the way prince eric would. Shinso had taught him many acting tips in the past few weeks, it made Denki feel a little dumb because he had done acting for fun since he was little and he was only learning such things in his last year of high school. Denki sat and thought of tactics, a term, and a method that Shinso taught him. Basically, each line has at least one tactic, a tactic is an action verb that is aimed at the other characters in the show. For example, he used ‘to swoon Ariel’ quite a bit, swoon being the tactic and Ariel is who it is for. All the work he was doing made him think of Shinsou, and how Shinsou wasn’t working with him right now, it made him feel alone and jealous that he didn’t have the fluffy-haired boy’s attention. The director called for clean up which indicated the end of rehearsal, and Denki still hadn’t worked with Shinsou today, it disappointed him more than it should have.

Denki

I pack up my bag and script but stay seated in the chair I was in. I know that it’s time to go but I wasn’t ready to leave, not mentally at least. I watched as my ...our stage manager talked to our director, I have no clue what their conversations about but it’s not unusual for them to talk after rehearsal. I began to space out, still staring in their direction, I’m broken from this state when I notice both men looking at me, I panic a little because when two people are talking and looking at you it means that they’re talking about you, and I can only assume that their talking shit if it’s me they’re looking at. In my slightly panicked state, I didn’t realize that Yamada has left and that Shinso has started to approach me. I try to calm myself and get ready to stand up but before I could stand up I hear the amazing smooth voice of Shinso.

“Stay seated.”

Even though his tone wasn’t demanding or scary, I summited and was scared. I watched as he sets down something and pulls out another foldable chair, across from me and my chair. I couldn’t think of what to say or question but luckily I didn’t have to because he knew the answers to the questions I hadn’t even thought of yet

“I asked Yamada if I could work with you a little more today here because we didn’t get to.”

I nodded my head and took note of how awkward he knew that we were alone together. I guess he thinks I’m stupid because he went into more detail.

“He said yes, just no funny business and to lock up and that return the keys when I get home.”

He was less awkward now, he even rolled his eyes at the no funny business part. I assume that the shiny thing he put down was the keys to the auditorium. The most confusing part was the ‘return the keys when I get home’.

"Wait you live with Yamada?”

I yelled that a little loud and was a little too excited for that, it probably made him uncomfortable to be around a loud person like me.

"Yeah, he not my dad or anything. At least not biologically, he’s my foster parent, has been for the past 3 years but he hasn’t asked if I wanted to be adopted yet so I think he waiting till I turn 18 so he doesn’t have to deal with me.”

He laughs but I don’t think it’s very funny, because I don’t think it true, and Yamada isn’t like that. I hold my breath though, no one wants to hear my thoughts anyway, so I switch the subject.

"I was working on tactics today, hear let me show you!”

We worked for the next 30 minutes on different parts of the script, until we ended up on the wedding scene, the same scene that prince eric and ariel kiss. The atmosphere became weird between us, we weren’t acting or anything, just reading the lines and talking through different ideas. But the topic of kissing filled the air with awkwardness. But we had to continue with analyzing and discovering my character.

"I’ve been having trouble portraying Eric at this moment. It’s hard to show the love he feels for Ariel.”

I admitted to Shinso that love was hard to portray which is pretty embarrassing.

"I would try and draw out, or remember an experience for this scene, like your first kiss, or date, something romantic.”

Shinso suggested, I tried to rack my brain to find a replay that doesn’t include Shinso learning that I haven’t had my first kiss yet. But that’s what enders up coming out.

"I haven’t...”

"You haven’t ...what? Kissed someone? gone on date?”

Shinso sounds very shocked by this discovery. I just nodded my head not wanting to face him.

"But you’ve rehearsed this scene before, so you’ve kissed Jiro?”

I suddenly realize that every time Jiro and I have rehearsed that scene, Shinso isn’t in his chair, and when Yamada announced we would be doing stage kisses instead, Shinso hadn’t joined the club yet. Meaning that Shinso didn’t know about the stage kisses.

“No, she was uncomfortable with that so we opted for stage kisses, so I’ve never had a first kiss, not a romantic one or a fake one from Jiro.”

“Whats a stage kiss?”

I’m shocked, my stage manager doesn’t know what a stage kiss is. He knows all these other terms for acting but he doesn’t know about a basic stage kiss. Well, now I get to be the smart one.

"Well, it’s so that actors don’t have to kiss but it tricks the audience. Basically one of the actors grabs the other’s face and kisses their thumbs.”

I was feeling pretty smug about knowing something Shinsou didn’t. Until he spoke again.

“I don’t understand. Maybe I’ll understand better if you showed me.”

I cough out a little bit in shock, yeah sure it’s a stage kiss and I wouldn’t actually be kissing him, but the idea makes me nervous. It’s not like I don’t want to kiss him, stage kiss him, it’s the opposite, I’ve grown fond of him and might even say I have a crush on him. I know that I don’t have a shot with him or anyone for that matter but I can’t help but wish for more than a stage kiss. But if a stage kiss is the closest I'll get to being with Shinso I'll take it.

Without saying anything I get up from my chair and move towards Shinso, I place my hands on his face and then I lift my thumbs positioning them in front of his lips. they flout above his lips as I pause for a second, thinking about touching his lips with my thumbs, it’s still intimate in my mind, but his puzzled look makes me place my thumbs down on his lips. There soft, I would have expected chapped lips but this is a pleasant surprise. I close my eyes and kiss my own thumbs, I keep my lips there longer than I do when I stage kiss Jiro, but Shinso won’t know that. I pull away and open my eyes, to see Shinso smiling and almost laughing, then he begins to laugh. I began to feel insignificant and stupid again. I know I don’t have a shot with some as amazing as Shinso but that doesn’t mean I didn’t still hope that the stage kiss would lead to something more, and real.

“Sorry for laughing. You really haven’t had your first kiss.”

It’s that obvious to him, sure I told him but how can he tell how inexperienced I am from just a stage kiss.

“What’s that suppose to mean?”

I asked in a more rude tone than I meant to.

"Well you closed your eyes, like the whole time, and you were there longer than needed.”

“You’re supposed to close your eyes, right. That’s what they do in movies and like it’s bad if you open your eyes, or that’s what I’ve heard.”

Shinso nods at my statement but it seems to be in a teasing way.

“Wel that right but you make it seem like life or death, your eyes aren’t just closed there squeezed shut, and with simple kisses that the .. um … the stage kiss is replicating, it’s short. Cause in real life it would be a little awkward to put your lips against someone else’s without at least some lip movement.”

I find his corrections on my stage kiss annoying, and I don’t try to hide it in my voice.

"Oh, so your some sort of kissing expert?”

“I wouldn’t call myself that, but I’m more experienced than you.”

I become more annoyed because his voice changed and he became more smug

"Well, it’s not my fault I haven’t had my first kiss!”

I yell at him.

“Neither is it mine.”

“Yes, it is because anyone who hasn’t tried to kiss me is at fault!”

I blurt out without think of consequences, and when I look at Shinso and his smug, flirtatious face I know that there’s going to be consequences.

“So if I kiss you then I can be free from being blamed?”

I go wide-eyed, I can’t tell if he’s being serious. And if he is I don’t know if I want my first kiss to be under these circumstances. Oh, who am I kidding I was ready to have my first kiss be with Jiro for a play. I try to ask him how serious he is but it stumbles out in pieces.

“How ….uu. I ho-how seri-serious is your.. Uhh ...your ..proposal?”

I sound like a mess. I watch as Shinso stands up from his chair moving closer to me. His left hand rests on my cheek. Leans in and whispers...

“As serious as you want it to be.”

We stand and stay in this position until Shinsou whispers more...

“I’m asking if I can kiss you.”

“Yes!”

The yes that falls out of my mouth is too fast and too quiet but Shinsou heard it and leaned in. I don’t like to admit that I’m wrong but I was and Shinso is right. Without movement this is awkward. But then he snickers with his lips still on mine, that’s when I realize he wasn’t moving on purpose to prove his point. He begins to move, and I half expect it to become a french kiss but it doesn’t. I follow his lips movement hoping that I’m doing it correctly.

We eventually pull away, both our faces tinted pink with blush. I’m not used to silence so I try to fill it.

"Wow, where did all that confidence come from?”

Shinso was often not as flirty as he has been for the past 10 minutes.

“Don’t know, it happens more than you’d expect.”

His hand does that thing that I’ve read in teen romance stories, where it goes behind their neck. I can see the movement of hair and fingers and I assume that it’s some sort of nervous tick to play with his hair, it cute.

“So I think we did enough work for one day, so I guess it’s time to go home.”

I nodded and turn back to grab my stuff, I turn around and Shinsou is already ready to go, waiting for me, but he doesn’t seem to be annoyed like most people are when I take longer to get ready. He locks up the room and we walk to the exit together. When we get outside I turn to start walking home, Shinsou turns the other way but before I get too far he turns back and yells at me.

“Do you need a ride? People shouldn’t walk this late at night, I don’t mind giving you a ride. “

I turn around and yell back...

"I don’t want to get you in trouble for being home late.”

“I’d probably get more in trouble if I let you walked, that’s how my dads are, so come on.”

He waves me over and I jog over to him.

During the ride we don’t talk much, letting the radio fill the car, scaring off the awkward silence. I told him my address and he uses a GPS for direction instead of asking me every 2 minutes when to turn. So I was able to just watch him, and I never realized how attractive people can be while driving till now. Especially the one hand on the wheel, his right hand still on the shift even though it an automatic, his left hand on the wheel. The same hand that was on my cheek less than 20 minutes ago. The realization brings color back to my face, I begin to think about the kiss again. My thinking almost always leads to questions that make me insecure, and like always, I begin to question. Along with my brain answering with the most likely answer

Did I do it right? No.

Did he like it? No.

Does he regret it? Of course.

Was it just a moment thing? Yes.

Or does it have a deeper meaning? No.

Will it happen again? Never, don’t even get your hopes up.

Will we become more than friends? Idiot.

Did he hate it? How else is someone supposed to feel after kissing you?

Is Jiro right? Has she ever been wrong, no, and that hasn’t changed.

Will he stop being my friend? Probably and if not, it’s pity.

Why did he do it? To teach you, cause your a lonely idiot.

Does he like me? Not even a question, of course not, look at him, then yourself. He would never like you.

“Denki is this it?”

I’m broken from the negative thoughts. Shinso has already parked, I look out the window, and sure enough, it is my house.

“Yeah."

I step out and grab my stuff, I close the door, the window rolls down.

"Have a good day Denki.”

"Yeah, you to Shinso.”

I begin to walk away but he yells out a little more...

"Call me Hitoshi. Also, It wasn’t a moment thing, and I want to see where this leads.”

My back was turned the whole time he said talked, I stand there frozen in disbelief. It’s only when I hear his car drive away that I breathe again, my first breath also being a whisper of his name.

[unmaskedagain]

Marinette: Iron Man’s Minion

Marinette: Tony’s Stark new Minion.

I have this random story idea of Marinette meeting Tony Stark. It creates fun dynamic with the avengers who begin to questions just how many children Tony has. This story might not go anywhere apart from a few headcannons so be warned.

Most people meet Tony Stark at the Stark Expo. Some are unfortunate enough to meet Tony when he’s rescuing them in the Iron Man suit.

However, when Stark Industries decide that after the events of Slovakia, thankfully Loki had been there to stop the worst of Ultron’s plan thus saving nearly everyone’s life, a little good press wouldn’t hurt.

Stark Industries quietly announced a competition to young inventors of the world: whoever designs the best new Iron Man suit wins a replica Iron man. When one little French girl wins, however it’s the stuff of her dreams.

Or at least Marinette thought so at first.

When the Parisian hero learned of the competition, she decided to pull out her old sketches of the iron man suit. She had always admired the sleekness of it but thousands ideas always hit her on how it could improve appearance wise. Marinette decided to submit her favorite design, never think it was ever a possibility that she’d win.

In fact Marinette was so sure she’d lose, that she didn’t pay attention when the winner was announced. She didn’t find out until her phone rang and Pepper Potts was on the other side of the videotime.

Tony Stark loved her suit design and instead of a shoddy helmet, the real prize was for the Winner to come to New York, meet the avengers, and work with The Tony Stark for the entire summer as an intern.

Marinette had never screamed so loud in her life. Her parents were thrilled at the idea of Marinette getting away from the dangers of all the Akumas and the drama of her class.

Honestly, Marinette thought it was her lucky break. She hadn’t made a single plan for the summer. All of her so called friends had taken to giving her the cold shoulder thanks to Lila and her lies. Marinette hadn’t even been invited to the class’s annual end of the year party. Whenever she tried to make plans with them. They were always too busy or just plain ignored her but then they go right ahead and make plans in front of her.

Marinette had been in tears by the end of term.

She tried to tell Alya she was leaving to New York but was met with contempt. Alya and Marinette’s friendship was non-existent at that point. And whatever childhood friendship she once had with Nino, died with it. Right or wrong, he always took the side of his girlfriend.

Kim trailed behind Lila like a lost puppy, further cementing he had terrible taste in women.

The most interaction Marinette had with Alix was when the pink-haired girl when out of her way to trip Marinette.

Rose said quietly whispered to Marinette that she didn’t want to cause problems with her other friends so they couldn’t talk much anymore. Juleka follow suit.

Adrien watched it all with a passive expression on his face like he didn’t know the truth. It was then that Marinette realized the boy didn’t care what the truth was as long as he didn’t have to deal with conflict.

As far as Marinette was concerned she didn’t have a single friend left in class. Just like Lila threatened. The only good thing that came from it was that Marinette that she wouldn’t care what people thought. Marinette decided to always say whats on her mind no matter what.

           Jagged said it made her very sassy, and so very ROCK AND ROLL.

Marinette arrived at Stark Tower three days after school ended. She had jumped twenty feet when she stepped into the elevator and a voice greeted her.

“Hello Miss Dupain-Cheng,” A voice said.

“Uh, bonjour?” Marinette said. “Please call me Marinette. And you are, sir?”

“I am Jarvis.”

           Marinette nodded. She had heard about the AI that help run Tony Stark’s world. “How are you doing today, Jarvis?” She asked it.

           There was a moment of silence. Most people, a part of his creator, had never asked Jarvis how he was.

“Less chaotic than usual,” Jarvis said with a dry amused tone that left Marinette wondering if A.I could be amused.

           Marinette straightened up and her blue eyes narrowed, “You are not being worked too hard, right? You get time to yourself?”

           Jarvis assured her that he did and that he liked his job. They went onto have a pleasant conversation about their most exciting experiences and Marinette’s future dreams.

Marinette didn’t know that currently Tony was watching the interaction from his workshop with a grin on her face. He had wanted to know just who he’d be working with. So far, Frenchy looked like a keeper.

When the elevator doors opened, Marinette followed Jarvis’s instructions on where to go. And that she was to wait in the living room until Tony came for her. It was then she discovered something about the A.I.

“You’re a bit of a jerk, Jarvis,” Marinette whispered when she walked into the living room where nearly all of the Avengers were hanging out and watching… Spongebob?

           Unfortunately, Tony had been drinking coffee at the time and ended up doing a spit take all over dummy.

           It took all of two second for the avengers to notice the fourteen-year-old girl standing there.

           The bluenette’s face turned bright red. It took everything in her not to start screaming and jumping up and down.

“Oh god, cap” Clint said, “One of your fangirls

“Fangirl? Oh please,” Marinette scoffed. “Have you seen the disaster of a costume he wears into battle? Not in this lifetime!”

           Unfortunately, again, for Tony and Dummy, Tony had taken another drink from his coffee at the moment.

“She’s trying to kill me,” Tony coughed. “Worth it.” He said with his eyes still glued the screen.

           The avengers just stared for a moment. Steve Rogers blinked hard, “What?”

“No offense,” Marinette quickly said. “I’m just really into fashion. And I cannot and will not be seen as fan of man who dresses like America’s drunk prom date.”

           Clint fell off the couch laughing.

“She’s not wrong,” Natasha shrugged as she eyed the girl with a smirk.

           Steve cast the spider a look, and turned frown to Marinette, “I wore that uniform to war.”

“Like World War 2 wasn’t tragic enough,” Marinette said dryly.

“Jarvis!” Tony yelled as he ran from the workshop still trying to watch his new favorite. “Get me some adoption papers.”

“Sir, she has parents,” Jarvis tried to reason.

“Didn’t anyone teach ya to respect your elders? A voice said behind her.

           Unfortunately for the newcomer, Marinette flight or fight instincts had been firmly in fight mode for quite some time. As she quickly spun around and kicked the guy in the face. And that was how Marinette met the Winter Soldier. She broke his nose.

           Bucky crashed into the wall with a force that left his head spinning.

“Peter always wanted a sibling,” Tony told Jarvis with a joyful look.

“And May Parker still hasn’t given you permission to adopt him either.”

“Sorry!” Marinette yelled frantically as she moved to help the man. “I didn’t mean to, I promise. Are you alright? Can I get you anything?”

“Besides your dignity back,” Sam added with the biggest grin on his face. “Because that’s gone, man. Like forever.”

           Marinette shot him a glare, and turned her the disheveled man. She noticed the bloody nose and her panic increased tenfold. “Oh god. Oh god.” She pulled a cloth napkin from her purse and held it up to Bucky’s face. She looked around the room, hysterically, and spotted Bruce Banner, “Dr. Banner, help please.”

“I’m not that type of doctor,” Banner quickly said.

           Marinette narrowed her eyes at him, “Today you are.”

           Bruce blinked. He felt the big guy rumble in amusement. He quickly got up to help.

“I’m fine,” Bucky said as he tried to wave her off and move towards the others. “Nice kick by the way.”

“You,” She pointed at Bucky. “Be quiet. You hit your head and might have a concussion.”

           Bruce instructed Marinette to remove the napkin as he examine his patient.

“Tis merely a flesh wound,” Thor boomed as he strutted over to look. “Nothing to worry about.” He moved to place his hand on the girl’s shoulder but before he could…

“Touch me and I will break that hand,” The girl suddenly said, her back to the blond god.

           Thor’s hand froze in midair. Marinette turned and looked at him. “Go sit back on the couch.” She ordered in such a way that Thor was reminded of his longtime friend Sif.

“I-” Thor started but was cut off.

“Now!”

           Thor flinched back. The blue eyes watched him sternly as he slowly went back to the couch like a puppy with his tail between his legs. Far from the scary small girl.

“Pepper would love her!”

“Yes, but she’d be furious about a kidnapping.”

“How is he, Dr. Banner?” Marinette asked.

           Banner decided right then shrugging would get him killed. “He’s fine. It’s just small break. He’ll be fine in an hour.” He got a skeptical look. “Super soldier, he heals fast.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Marinette said brightly.

“Come on,” Marinette told Bucky soothingly. “Let get you on the couch.”

           Bucky just let himself be led with a sigh. Why did the small, tiny ones always give him the most trouble?

           The other avengers moved out of their way.

“Are you okay?” Marinette asked again when sat the wounded man on the couch. “Do you need anything? Do you want the remote control? I can get you the remote control.”

           Said current owner of the remote control, Scott, looked up like a deer in the headlights. He froze when the French girl’s blue eyes found him and they narrowed in challenge. Scott barely noticed Sam slowly inch himself away from his teammate.

“Asshole,” Scott hissed to Falcon.

“What did you just say?” Marinette raised an eyebrow.

“I said: Here’s the remote,” He tossed it prized possession the Winter Solider who had a smirk on his face. He knew just how hard it was to maintain control of the TV in a home of superheroes.

           Marinette caught it in midair. She passed it to Bucky.

“Thanks!” Bucky smirked at Scott as he said it. “I’m good now. I swear.”

           Marinette nodded contently.

“Ahh Marinette,” Tony said as he entered the room. The smug expression on his face and in his tone didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the avengers. “Sorry I’m late. Come on, I’ll show you where we’ll be working.”

           Marinette grinned and ran over to the Tony Stark.

“Wait, who are you, tiny vicious girl?” Clint suddenly yelled.

“My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” She introduced herself brightly, looking very much like the sweet school girl they originally thought she was.

“My new intern,” Tony smirked. Then within seconds the genius pulled Marinette out of the room and disappeared from sight as Jarvis slammed the doors behind them

           Natasha hummed, “Tony always managed find the most interesting kids. First the spiderling and now…”

“The Devil,” Sam finished. “I have older sisters. Fear the wrath of a teenager girl.”

“She’s here all summer,” Steve remember feeling oddly self-conscious.

           Bucky chuckled and propped his feet of the coffee table, “Aww, don’t worry punk, I won’t let the mean powderpuff bully you.”

“So Dominator,” Tony said as the stepped into the elevator. “You really know how to make an entrance. I like that in a minion.”

“Minion?” Marinette squeaked. “Mr. Stark?”

           What exactly had she signed up for?

           The elevator doors opened. “Call me Tony,” He said spread his arms wide as he showed of the workshop. “So this is where the magic happens.”

           For the next few hours, Marinette toured the workshop and the tower. Tony really did love the suit she had drawn but had been a bit dismayed that Marinette didn’t have too much experience in the science. Marinette was a quick learned though, and Tony was impressed about how quickly she picked up information.

Happy, the driver who had picked Marinette up from the airport and who grumbled about always being stuck with teenagers, had brought up her bags as he had said he would and left it in her room.

Marinette didn’t run into any of the other avengers again until the next day. She got up bright and early, the sun still rising, as she was still used to waking up and helping her baker parents. Plus jetlag.

With Jarvis help, she easily found the kitchen. To her dismay, the fridge was full of junk food, take out boxes, and protein shakes. And coffee. Lots of clearly expensive coffee.

She sighed and got to baking. There was plenty of ingredients to work with as the kitchen was well stocked up unused. Within the next few hours, the kitchen and thus the entire tower was filled with the sweets smells usually only found in the bakery.

Marinette had made chocolate croissants, a variety of muffins, Berries and Cream Cheese Breakfast Pastries that her father swore by, and spinach, bacon, mushroom, and cheese quiches. She even made a pot of coffee. All spread out on the dining room table before eight am.

The first to make their way up to see what smelled so good was Natasha.

“Good morning,” Natasha said. “Been busy?”

“Morning,” Marinette beamed. “Daughter of bakers. Hungry?”

           Bucky came next. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail and he had on dark sweatpants. He look half asleep as He grunted a hello as he sat down to eat.

           A lovely girl named Wanda and a man Vision, who was apparently Jarvis’ son, came up next. Marinette hadn’t met either of them yesterday but they had heard of her.

           The next person to show was Clint but he took one look at Marinette and made a hasty retreat.

“Baby!” Natasha and with a grumble, Clint came back into the room.

“Hawkeye, right?” Marinette asked.

           Clint eyed her. “Yes,” he answered as he sat down next to the Black Widow. “And if you kill me, Nat will avenge me.”

“No, I won’t.”

“What!” He cried. “I’m your best friend.”

           The redhead looked at him and then at the berry, cream cheese goodness in her hands, then at Marinette. She looked back at Clint, “You’ve been replaced.” When he went to protest some more, Natasha shoved a chocolate scone in his mouth.

           His green eyes widened as the flavor exploded. He looked at the scone, then at Marinette, then at all the food on the table. Clint nodded solemnly, “I understand.” And made himself a plate.

           Marinette giggled at the antics.

           Tony entered the room, hair on ends, greasy t-shirt on and blinked hard at the feast at the table.

“I made breakfast,” Marinette handed him a cup of coffee cheerfully when he sat down. “Sweet and savory. I didn’t know what everyone liked.”

           He nodded tiredly but perked up as soon as he took a bite of spinach bacon quiche. He swallowed it quickly, “Jarvis?” Tony called.

“You cannot adopt her, sir.”

           Thor was next and thanked Marinette loudly for the splendid feast. Scott, Sam, and Bruce arrived next.

           Steve came next, apparently just having finished up a run.

           The two stared at each other, like a pair of cowboys doing a standoff.

“Listen… about what I said yesterday,” Marinette started. “I, one hundred percent meant it. Your fashion sense is appalling. But please consider this a peace offering.”

“My style was very popular in the forties!” Steve defended.

           Bucky snorted, “Liar.”

           That sounded off around of laughter.

           Marinette spent the next few weeks help Tony design his new suit, got trained with Natasha, Bucky and Steve, and went frequently to Stark Industries with Pepper Potts. (Though Steve had quite liked it when Marinette point at Pepper and said, “See that’s fashion. Gold standard right there. You, no.”

           She met Peter Parker not long after she arrived. He was a nice boy with glasses that reminded her a bit of herself. Tony had guardianship of Peter while his aunt was overseas on business.

“Minion three,” He greeted her. Peter sat down across from her work table and started on his own project.

“Four?” She asked, with a chuckle. “And you are?”

           Peter grinned, “Minion two.” He shrugged. “Riri’s three. Harley’s one. And is the union leader. They’ll be here tonight.”

           Marinette laid down her screwdriver, “There’s a union.”

“No there’s not!” Tony yelled.

           Peter leaned over the table and whispered, “We revolt at dawn.”

“God dammit, Peter!”

           Marinette cackled.

           It wasn’t long before the paparazzi got wind of Marinette. Then suddenly the magazines were filled with Marinette: Stark’s secret FOURTH love child. Marinette literally fell down laughing when War Machine stomped in the workshop and three a magazine at Tony’s head. “Another one, Tony? Didn’t even tell me!”

She was photographed frequently as whenever she left the company an overprotective avenger was sure to join her. She was teen vogue’s best dressed list. In tiger beat’s, things Marinette just can’t live without.

           That was when her phone started ringing and texts started pouring in from Paris. Unfortunately, for her ex friends, Marinette had promised that for the rest of summer the only people from France she’d talk to were her parents. And Marinette keeps her promises.

           So she never bother to look at the texts. The only time she interacted was when she had to use the horse miraculous to portal to home to stop an Akuma. Which was hard to hide from a group of nosy superheroes.

           Everything was going fine until the Kwami was let out of the bag in the middle of a family/team dinner.

           Loki poofed in one day, walked straight up to Marinette, and demanded to speak with Plagg.

“The Kwami of Destruction owes me money,” Loki said easily.

           Said Kwami flew out from where he was hiding, “Do not! You cheated.”

           And that was that.

           Marinette had no choice but to transform into Ladybug.

           To which Happy groaned, “Another teen bug themed hero,” He glared at Tony. “You did this on purpose.”

           None of the avengers had been happy about a teen superhero battle a terrorist on her own. Peter, Spiderman, just high-fived her.