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hexalianrebel-blackfeathers · 3 years

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Panda's Notes: @rosileeduckie IT'S DONE!! >w< This story was inspired by Ro's story "Pics or It Didn't Happen, Bro", which is an awesome little story that I love going back to. I couldn't help dying for a sequel, and I somehow got their blessing to make an unofficial one of my own. >w<

Find it/both on AO3!

Iida fiddled a bit anxiously with his phone, just trying to decide if he was willing to take the risk. To throw himself back into the proverbial lion’s den just for…what? Nothing really.

Nothing material, at least.

His phone buzzed against his palm, making him flinch and nearly drop it. Of course, it was another in a long list of messages in the group chat egging each other on. He rolled his eyes before skimming over—

Wait.

Sero: Look, I know we’ve all been saying it as a joke, but I’m stepping up.

Sero: Class Rep, since this is your fault, I dare you to “win” another #ticklefightwithBakugou. Pics or it didn’t happen, right guys?

There was a new onslaught of quick messages and shocked or laughing emojis as the class gossips alerted Iida to the callout.

Iida: You’re really calling me out, huh? What’s the catch?

Mina: Pretty sure the catch is getting the pics before Bakugou finds out you took the dare lol

“If you don’t quit texting and fucking move, I will flip this board onto you.”

Joke’s on them; he was already toeing the line there.

Iida chuckled softly, setting his phone face-down underneath his leg and looking over the chess board between them. He pushed one of his rooks forward, and he tried to resist a smile when Bakugou tsked under his breath.

“Why did you have to pick fucking chess, Four-Eyes?”

“You said you didn’t want to help with the puzzle; you could have said no.”

“Mmph…” Bakugou tapped one of his pawns on the board before shifting it forward. “So, what are those losers talking about anyway?”

It was a little interesting knowing he wasn’t included under the “losers” umbrella this time, and Iida tipped his head to look over the board.

“Oh, you know…” He hummed, unsure how much he could let on. “Same memes every week; Yaoyorozu’s scheduling study sessions for that test we have coming up—” He set down the pawn he’d chosen, his eyes searching for something of interest.

“Any new bets going around?” Bakugou snatched up the pawn, and swapped it with his bishop, smirking slightly across the table at Iida.

Iida tapped his fingers on his knee for a moment, biting his lip as he tried to keep his face in check. “Ah, well, I haven’t really been in that channel lately. Why?” He shifted another pawn forward.

Bakugou huffed and shrugged his shoulder. “No reason, I guess, just…” And the bishop took the offered pawn. “That #ticklefightwithBakugou thing is still going around, isn’t it?”

Iida let a chuckle slip, putting his hands up when Bakugou glowered at him. “You’re still thinking about that? Are you afraid someone might take advantage?” The question was emphasized by Bakugou’s bishop getting unceremoniously trampled by Iida’s knight. If looks could kill, the class rep’s head would have exploded.

“Don’t even think about putting fucking words in my mouth, four-eyes.” Bakugou practically snarled, moving one of his own knights out from its starting position. “I asked because I’m still catching shit from Pinky and Tapeface asking if you were lying or not.”

“Did you tell them?” There might have been a teasing little note to Iida’s voice as he castled his king and rook, and he yelped when Bakugou gave him a swift kick to his shin.

“If I had told them; they would have told the whole damn school, dumbass. Of course I didn’t tell them.” A pawn was inched forward as he buried his pouting mouth in his hand.

“You’re scared they’ll find out you’re all ticklish, huh?” One of Iida’s bishops was advancing.

“You shut your fucking mouth.” Bakugou grumbled, moving his rook halfway across the board as he attempted to cover the hint of red crawling up his face.

Iida couldn’t help smiling as he scooted a pawn. “That’s kind of adorable, Bakugou. What if…I got you again?” He asked softly as Bakugou was reaching for a piece.

Bakugou’s hand flinched, and the lone bishop clicked as the magnet in its base reattached to the board. He glared over at Iida again before a smirk spread across his face. He picked up the bishop again, and he set it down with a renewed confidence. “I knew you were up to something, you little shit.”

“What?!” Iida feigned offense, crushing one of Bakugou’s pawns under his rook. “I’m not up to anything. You brought it up.”

Bakugou hummed and looked over the board as Iida was putting the captured pawn to the side. “I wonder why I don’t believe you.”

Iida shrugged a bit himself, glancing away when Bakugou looked up at him again. “Perhaps you’re a bit paranoid? I can relate, actually; I remember when the year started, a few of our classmates made a similar bet targeting me.”

Bakugou snorted, remembering that couple of weeks back in May. The others had taken turns cracking bad jokes and sneaking pokes to the class rep’s sides in attempts to make him laugh. “Oh, yeah, that’s right…” He smirked as Iida was moving a knight, moving his bishop into an attacking position. “You’re pretty ticklish yourself.”

It was Iida’s turn to flinch a little, a nervous smile forcing itself across his face. A few syllables tripped and stumbled out of his mouth as he moved his knight to escape.

“And!” Bakugou piped up again. “If I remember correctly, you kind of like being tickled.” His bishop zipped forward, catching a pawn off guard.

“I—What? W-Where would you get that idea?” Iida cleared his throat when his voice came out squeakily, shifting his rook to snatch one of Bakugou’s pawns.

“Because, Speed Racer, you are a shitty liar. Plus:” Bakugou’s knight suddenly appeared and nudged Iida’s rook, and his fingers moved with a bit of wiggling flair before he snapped them sharply and pointed to himself. “My eyes are up here.”

Iida blushed brightly. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d been watching his opponent’s hands that closely. And being redirected to that smirking face and piercing stare didn’t help him at all.

Bakugou chuckled softly, watching as Iida hesitantly moved his only unseated pawn. “So, what was your little plan, huh? Did you even have one?”

“Mm, I suppose not.” He admitted, releasing a shaky breath when none of his pieces were taken this time. “It’s not exactly an easy win condition, you see.”

Bakugou hummed and gave a slight nod, picking up his Queen. “Pics or it didn’t happen, right?” He set it down with a resounding tap, pulling the now defeated knight off the board as Iida stared across the board at him. “Check. Your move, bitch.”

Iida pounced.

The chess board clattered as one of their flailing legs kicked it off of the couch, most of the magnetic pieces zipping back to the board while the others went AWOL.

“When the fuck did you get so heavy?!” Bakugou snapped, pawing at Iida’s arms as the taller boy was attempting to straddle his legs.

Iida sacrificed his arm, grabbing at one of Bakugou’s wrists while his free hand pulled his phone out of the pocket on his leg. Bakugou reached and attempted to slap at his arm, a fiercely determined smile on his face as his struggling nearly pushed Iida over.

Iida couldn’t resist the giggles that were slipping out of him, and he nearly lost his balance when Bakugou’s free hand suddenly attacked his side with scribbling nails. But his camera was open, and he tightened his grip on Bakugou’s wrist as he quickly looked for an opening while keeping his phone out of his victim’s reach.

And he spotted it. He held his phone up over Bakugou’s face, and when he tried to snatch it, Iida released the wrist he’d captured in favor of shoving that hand into Bakugou’s exposed armpit.

That previously smug face was caught in full view of the camera as is shifted instantly from shock to splitting open with a loud laugh.

“Y-You fucker!” He barked out, both of his hands retreating to press against his ribcage as he started to writhe a bit. His feet flailed and pushed against the couch behind Iida, a hint of red quickly filling his cheeks as a snort broke out of his chest. He immediately covered his face when the sound escaped, unable to stop the two others that followed it as his free hand tried to slap Iida’s phone again. “Fuck off, four-eyes!” He barely squeaked out through helpless giggles.

Iida’s face lit up as he finally stopped recording, taking a victory lap of sorts by giving a few more teasing scribbles as he navigated his phone with one hand. Bakugou struggled and clutched at Iida’s arm, and the class rep nearly buckled when those nails dug ticklishly into his elbow.

“Ha!” Iida suddenly exclaimed, laughing a bit himself. “I got it!” He grinned playfully down at Bakugou as the group chat came to life from his universal tag.

Sero: HOLY SHIT MAN I WAS KIDDING

Mina: LOL A true king!

Ochacco: He’s so cute!!

The comments went on like that and spurred a bout of conversation in that channel, several of their classmates following Mina’s lead and spamming the video with crown reactions. Half of the ones in attendance were also tagging Bakugou for confirmation, as if this weren’t literally happening right now.

Iida giggled softly, letting his fingers still and pulling his hand back. He turned his phone to give Bakugou a glance. “You’re trending, Katsuki.”

Bakugou panted softly, but his eyes fell on the screen within a second. “I’m always trending, fuckface.” He scoffed, crossing his arms and shrugging.

Iida shook his head and chuckled, scrolling back to play the video back for himself: the way Bakugou broke so quickly from that one spot; pulled his hands in tight and just laughed; The way he smiled and just succumbed to—

Wait a second.

“You…” Iida murmured, his eyes widening slightly as he realized he was still straddling his former victim. “You let me win.”

“Hm?” Bakugou hummed, resting his head on his hand as he propped it on his elbow. “What do you mean~?”

Iida’s face fell into a pout at that playful tone. “Why did you… Why would you?”

“Hm…” Bakugou sighed and hummed, scratching casually at his face and running his free hand through his hair. “Why would I let you win…? Why would I basically throw a bet to let you look good?”

Iida crossed his arms, scooting back slightly as Bakugou moved to sit up.

“Well, I don’t know.” Bakugou sighed with a shrug. “Oh, wait.”

He suddenly lunged forward, and Iida only noticed his phone being snatched from his hand before he was being manhandled. The pair of them wrestled; okay, Iida tried to wrestle, but Bakugou managed to get behind him and yank him back against his chest.

“W-What are you doing?!” Iida cried, attempting to flail as Bakugou’s free arm wrapped across his chest. A squeal jumped out of his mouth as fingers scribbled softly at his ribs.

“Take a wild guess, four-eyes.” Bakugou smirked, wrapping his legs loosely around Iida’s waist before holding up the stolen phone and tapping the screen a few times to start a video call. “Anyone who’s not a fucking coward better get on call right the fuck now.”

“Wait, that’s not fai—!” Iida shrieked as both of their faces appeared in a small window, getting cut off by his own loud giggles when Bakugou started to tickle him again.

The text chat lit up again with shocked comments and laughter before several small windows popped up in the call, with Sero and Ashido, of course, being the loudest.

“This is your king, huh?!” Bakugou asked teasingly, skittering his fingers up and down Iida’s ribs and toward his stomach and smirking broadly at his captive’s writhing. “This giggly, string-bean bitch?!”

“Don’t let him win, Iida!” Ashido laughed, waving at her webcam.

“Pfft, rest in peace, class rep!” Kaminari taunted, and Kirishima covered his mouth with his textbook beside him.

“This is why I don’t play the hashtag games with you guys!” Midoriya insisted, trying not to laugh. “Kacchan’s mean!”

Bakugou chuckled as he watched the text conversations go on beneath the excited chatter on the video call, sneaking his hand up to scribble under Iida’s chin.

“You losers better believe I’m fucking mean.” He growled, grinning wider. “You want a tickle fight; I’ll bring you a fucking war.”

He moved his hand up quickly, pulling Iida’s head close so he could press a loud raspberry against the side of his neck. The class rep’s shriek was parroted by a couple of the girls squealing excitedly along with taunts and jabs from all of them.

“B-Bakugou, please!” Iida whined, trying to paw at Bakugou’s hand as he giggled and laughed.

“Which one of them dies next?”

“What?! I-I—No!” He wailed as Bakugou blew another raspberry on his neck.

“Pick one of them, or I will end this call and find your kill spot.”

There was a chorus of chatter as cameras quickly shut off, but their friends’ voices still cheered them both on. Bakugou’s fingers were attempting to worm under Iida’s arm, and he curled in tight as he laughed a bit louder.

“Tick-tock, bitch~” Bakugou purred, leaning into his neck again.

“Sero! I pick Sero!” Iida cried out, his face running red as he felt Bakugou’s lips pressing gently before pulling away.

“Oh, my gods, you narc!” Sero laughed, and most of the others started to tease him too.

“You heard him, Tapeface. You’d better be ready.” Bakugou growled playfully, curling his fingers into a claw and digging them into Iida’s back to get a good shriek before finally cutting the video call.

Iida leaned heavily against Bakugou’s shoulder, lost in a haze of giggles as the blonde gave him a few more teasing scribbles. Turnabout is fair play, after all. He recognized the sound of his phone’s camera clicking before Bakugou finally gave him a push and slipped out from under him.

“I think #ticklefightwithBakugou is going to need its own channel soon.” Bakugou chuckled, tossing Iida’s phone onto his stomach after another moment.

Iida flinched a bit at the impact, only making a move to catch it when it felt like it would fall. As he finally caught his breath, he looked at the screen. Four new photos: all of them selfies of the pair of them with Bakugou mugging and Iida laughing himself silly; and a fifth one: Bakugou planting a kiss on Iida’s cheek while the boy’s glasses were skewed off of his face.

“Well, four-eyes,” Bakugou called with a sneer, having already made his way halfway to the stairs. “You coming or what?”

Iida blushed again and swallowed the lump in his throat, fixing his glasses before pocketing his phone. “You know what, why not?” He smiled back, hopping up to follow.

It wasn’t until he shook a little magnetic rook from his slipper on the third landing that he remembered the mess they’d left. Bakugou just laughed at him when he suggested they go back.

#bakugou katsuki #iida tenya #tickling #bnha #boku no hero academia #a panda writes a thing #my hero academia

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derekgoffard · 3 years

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🎁, 📦, 🚆, 🌠, ☁️, and 💘 for Colin?

!!!! AHHH THANK U FOR SO MANY FUN QUESTIONS OH MY GOSH!!! :']]] Haha I wrote these last night and I was just spinning around in my spinny chair like :D while writing these HHJWJABHS I HAVE ALOT OF FUN. I REALLY DO LOLOL

This gets long so I'll put the rest under the cut!

🎁 PRESENT - what types of presents would they be most happy to receive? are they good at gift giving?

Colin puts huge value on handmade gifts! It's definitely DEFINITELY the type of gift he'd appreciate the most!!.

Even if your not good at crafts or making gifts he'd still be over the moon about it haha! You could literally draw a smiley face on a walnut and glue straw legs and arms on it and he'd get teary eyed over it HAHA!! He would be like, REALLY HAPPY, to receive a gift from anyone at all LOL! but he does really really treasure handmade gifts most of all :'].

In terms of gift GIVING- COLIN IS PERHAPS THE KING OF IT LOLOLOL!!!

Colin will put alot of work into giving a gift to someone! All of his gifts are handmade and it can take him weeks or even months to make in advance depending on what he's making!!

One of the reasons why he's so good at it is because he will probably cyber stalk that person to find out what they like LMAO!! (or if he knows the person better he might go into their search history too see what kinda stuff they were looking at hhgheha...) On the rare occasion that he atcually knows someone on a personaly HEALTHY level he'd probably have a good understanding of what that person's interests are/what kind of aesthetics they're into!.

While Colin does have a preference for cute pastel aesthetics, he has a HUGE respect for others aesthetic preferences! If your someone who's into punk styles he'd probably customize a leather jacket for you, or if your not into a particular style of outfits at all he'd probably make you a custom keychain or a phone case!

📦 PACKAGE - what are some "most likely to..." that can apply to them?

( LOL IM SORRY THIS PIC IS SO WONKY I DREW THIS ON MY PHONE BKAGH )

🚆 TRAIN - what is their answer to the trolley problem?

GAHA OHH THE GOOD OLD TROLLEY PROBLEM EHHBW.... If you were to ask him what his anwser would be to the trolley problem he'd probably ask you if there's anyway to just save them all and if you said no he'd just be " ohh man that sucks (๑´•.̫ • `๑)....kill that one guy then! (✿^‿^)"

🌠 SHOOTING STAR - if they could make any wish with no repercussions, what wish would they make?

He'd probably wish for something REALLY PATHETICALLY SAD LOLLLLLLLL.... something like ' I wish no one could ever dislike me ' or ' I wish I had the charisma and confidence to talk to anyone no matter the situation '. REAL FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS COLIN 🙄🙄🙄🙄 WHAT ABOUT WORLD HUNGER BOY 😭😭😭😭😭

☁️ CLOUD - a soft headcanon

Colin is a deeply, grossly, mushy romantic person 😭😭😭😭😭 he would LOVE pda and would want to kiss and hug everywhere no matter the place. Like I imagine he'd like to play dumb little... romantic games with his partner like, when their driving every time they stop at a red light or a stop sign they kiss or something like that GHRDH.

I'm not sure if this counts as soft or creepy but he would absolutely 100% know every like and dislike his partner would have, he'd do..questionable things too like: study their handwriting/typing patterns so he can copy it perfectly, memorize their daily schedules, He might even make a 'cosplay' of them if he gets really down bad GAHA. To him he's only trying to become closer to them but to like. literally anyone else I think creepy LOLLL.

💘 HEART W/ ARROW - what traits do they look for in a relationship? do they believe in love at first sight?

OOOHH!!!! This is such a cute question oh my gosh!! 🥺 Gaha!

Colin MOSTLY doesn't believe in love at first sight!! Surprisingly!!! His disbelief comes more out of insecurity then rational though, he'd be scared that if love at first sight WAS real and it DID happen to him, he wouldn't live up to that person's expectations ( aka his appearance is alot prettier then his personality LOL ). He also just doesn't think that could ever happen to him in the first place and the thought of other people finding love at first sight makes him feel kinda jealous so he avoids thinking about it GAHA!! ( Slightly related but if Colin were to get into a scenario where he did end up kidnapping Mc and they ended up in a romantic relationship ( either that be through like. STOCKHOLM SYNDROME OR NOT LLHGGG ) he would claim that "it was love at first sight! ♡" even though that really just means he decided Mc would be an easy kidnap target when he seen them LOL).

The traits that he looks for in a partner are all kinda basic tbh! If not a little sad LOL. He's never had anyone who could be emotionally present for him before so he has alot of trouble atcually coping and dealing with the strong emotions he feels, so he'd want someone who's patient and non judgmental!.

However the biggest thing he would want would be to feel that the person atcually likes him back LOL😭, If he gets delusional enough he can 'convince' himself that the person likes him back ( this works for any scenario, like if he has Mc kidnapped and he ends up really liking them even though Mc CLEARLY DOES NOT LIKE HIM- he'll get real delusional about how they love him back- even if deep down he knows they don't. Also if HE'S the one kidnapped- he'll develop a stockholm syndrome attachment to his captor very quickly hhhhhhhhhh).

Besides that he honestly doesn't seek out specific traits! He's really really open to LIKE. ANYONE WHO WILL LIKE HIM BACK LOL!!!

#THANK U SM AGAIN FOR THIS ASK :']#gaha i was running around all day yesterday and today and when i checked tumblr today I SEEN A FEW MORE PPL SENT ME ASK GAME ASKS AND I-#BHAHWHHAHHAHHABAVJA💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖✨✨✨✨✨ GAAHAHA #i really love writing these!!! haha im just SORRY I TAKE SO LONG TO POST!! T_T #for real though thank you sm to everyone for being so kind abt my silly little ocs :'] <3!!!#also i got an ask about derek that made me audibly SNORT JBAHAHBAHJHBABH I LOVE THIS WEBSITE LOLLLLLLLHHAHVAHV #u guys are so fucking funny LOLLLLLLL LIKE 😭😭😭 HHHAHHSH #anyway omg these tags are so long BLAH IM SORRY GGGG #oc stuff #colin midland #ask #ask game

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unmaskedagain · 5 years

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Marinette’s Week Off

This is a one-shot. Sorry, I kind of forgot Adrien.

One week. Just one week. Marinette took one week off a year. One week where she didn’t work herself to death as Marinette. Or nearly get herself killed as Ladybug. One week where she didn’t do any favors, any designs, didn’t work in the bakery, didn’t save anyone. A week to relax. A week to meditate. A week to destress and just take care of herself. Just one week every year. To prepare for it she sent reminders to all her friends and family. She posted a flyer on the class bulletin board. Marinette finished all her commission and school work in advance.

She made Fu aware that Ladybug wouldn’t be active, told Chat Noir that Queen Bee would be his partner while she was gone. Marinette always made sure everyone was prepared for her absence. And made it clear that she would be unavailable. No matter what. She didn’t care if the world was ending.

However, this year was different than the ones that came before. For starters, Marinette now only had two or three good friends in class, and one or two mediocre ones. She only warned those three people. While she still posted her usual flyer, she had done it knowing it would be disregarded.

Marinette was no longer class president either; she no longer had to plan class trips, parties, or dances. Or anything of the sort. When she was class president, Marinette always made sure to plan her week off around the class’s busiest time of the year. That year, she didn’t have to so she didn’t. In fact, she planned her week off during the biggest dance of year, the class musical, the class’s big fundraiser. It was usually her most stressful week of the year.

Not this time.

On the Friday before her week off, Marinette reminded Bustier of her absence for the next week, and then walked out of class with a relieved smile on her face. She was almost there. Just two more days. She used her weekend to finish up any last minutes details of her vacations; confirm her reservation; spend most of the time with her parents.

And on the stroke of midnight that turned Sunday to Monday, Marinette got her bags, kissed her parents goodbye and was gone in her Uber. She knew how this week worked. By six am, the ‘emergency’ calls would start; everyone screaming fire. However, she wouldn’t be there to put them out, metaphorical fires or real ones.

Not today, Satan, Marinette thought.

Marinette got to the airport, slept on the plane ride, arrived at her luxury beach resort, a little after sunrise. She had saved up her money and did extra commissions all year to pay for it. It was beautiful. However, there was just one problem…

“Marinette, love!” Jagged called, somehow looking more awake in the wee hours of the morning than he did at 3 in the afternoon. Penny, however, looked half-asleep. Even Fangs slept on the luggage being moved by a rather fearful looking bellhop.

Marinette’s parents couldn’t get time off the bakery; it was their busiest time too. Her grandma was in Peru. Mariette needed an adult with her at the resort. Jagged happened to overhear her mother asking if she found a chaperone yet. It wasn’t like Marinette had any other options.

“I have so many Rockin’ plans!” Jagged said. “Scuba diving! Sky diving. Swimming with sharks. Parasailing! Bungee jumping!”

Marinette narrowed her eyes at her favorite rockstar and honorary Uncle, “Sleep.” She said.

Jagged waved her off, “We’ll sleep when we’re dead.”

“Sleep,” Marinette hissed darkly.

As amazing as that all sounded it could wait. Marinette was there to relax, not fight a shark. “Not today, Satan,” She whispered when she checked into her room. Leaving Penny to drag away a protesting Jagger to get some sleep as well. She called her parents to let her she had gotten there safely, called to re-confirm her spa reservation for that afternoon and then check her texts.

She had gotten quite a few as expected. Chloe wishing her a good vacation and promising to keep an eye on Chat. Luka sent her funny vacation memes. Nathaniel sent pics or didn’t happen texts; he found the possibility of Marinette all people actually taking a vacation hilarious and improbable. She’d show him though.

Then there were a few texts from her ex-friends. And it seemed like the fires had started…

When class started on Monday, most didn’t realize that Marinette wasn’t there until Bustier reminded Chloe to remind Chloe about the test next week. They all shrugged it off. Glad not to have to deal with the drama Marinette brought to class.

When Alya, the new class president, brought up the dance that Friday, things got a little tense.

“We need volunteers,” The glasses-wearing girl said. “People to decorate and to clean up and all that. We also need to get decorations.”

She received confused looks.

“Isn’t that your job?” Alix asked. “The class president does all that.”

Alya crossed her arms, “No it’s not my job. I organize and plan but I can’t do everything by myself.”

“Marinette did,” Kim shrugged. “It can’t be that hard.”

“Do you wanna do it?” Alya asked him but he quickly shook his head. “Thought so. We don’t have a big budget. So can anyone chip in for decorations and food?”

Mylene frowned, “Marinette made all the decorations and food.” They never had to chip in before. “Maybe she’d do it again.”

There were nods. They may not be friends with the girl anymore but she was still very helpful.

“OH! I need a dress,” Rose brightened up the room with her smile. “Marinette made mine last year. It was so beautiful. I’ll ask her to make another.”

A few of the girls said the same.

“Not gonna happen,” Chloe smirked. “You guys are on your own.”

Alya shot her a glare. “And we’ll be just fine.” She wasn’t happy about asking her ex-bestie for anything, anyway.

They were not fine.

Monday they had all talked a big game about not needing Marinette but by Tuesday, they realized that was a lie.

Because everything was falling apart.

Mylene’s musical was Friday, the day before the dance. More than half the class were either in it or helping with it. That meant Alya had barely any volunteers for the Dance committee. And had been reminded by Bustier about the annual fundraiser they did every year to pay for the class trip. Alya had been class president since the beginning of the year, and had been responsible for planning it. She had forgot all about it.

Alya was confident she managed though. They’d pull in enough money to pay for the entire trip and she’d get to rub it in Marinette’s face that no one needed. Alya hoped Lila was back in time from her trip with Prince Ali to see it.

In addition, neither she nor Bustier seem to remember that the fundraiser was always biggest because it was the last one of the year. Marinette usually had done several different ones by then.

Mylene was struggling. None of the sets were done. The costumes were terrible. The entire play seemed to be falling apart. They had forgot to only put up flyers promoting the play but they never even made them. She didn’t understand, normally everything would be going as smooth as silk by then. Silk…

“Marinette,” She gasped. Yes, she remembered, Marinette always helped out with the school plays. The Bluenette would fix the costumes. She’d even help out with the flyers and the set. Mylene pulled out her phone and quickly called her ex-friend. It went to voice mail. She frantically sent a dozen texts, all screaming emergency. But she never got a reply.

Marinette laid on the beach, drinking virgin Pina Colada, while talking with a boy she met while surfing and subtly eyeing him. He was a seventeen-year-old, tanned, dark haired Adonis, literally named Adonis. He was ripped in a way Marinette had only every previously seen on guys in magazines or on TV. Marinette was fifteen, (Sixteen in just a few months) had grown remarkably into her looks, and smirked a bit every time she caught Adonis eyeing her back.

“I got to go,” Adonis said. “Work.” He leaned a bit closer to Marinette. “If you wanna drop by, I wouldn’t mind. Maybe we can go for a swim together.”

Marinette flushed with excitement and blushed a lovely pink by the offer, “That sounds amazing! What do you do?”

He grinned a sparkling white smile that lit up his gray eyes, and caused Marinette to let out a dreamy sigh. “I work with my dad. We do underwater scuba tours and explore sea wildlife and dormant underwater volcanos. We just got be careful to avoid sharks.”

Marinette’s fell open, and she just stared at the older boy for a moment, “I’m a little busy today. But can we meet up later,” She squeaked.

They said they goodbyes. And once Adonis was out sight, Marinette’s eyes narrowed, “Not today, Satan.”

An image of the first time saw Adonis suddenly floated to the front of her mind. Adonis coming out of the water, with his surfer board and red swim trucks, running towards dry land.

Marinette took a deep breath to stead herself; fight the urge to go running after Adonis. Because there was no way in hell she was going to deal with a “Dormant” volcano. And she didn’t mess with sharks. Neither did Jagged anymore and he had to learn his lessons the hard way. He was lucky to come back with all his limbs.

By Wednesday, everyone was panicking. Alya refused to give in and attempted to rally her troops; with a divide and conquer plan. Lila had even come back early and graciously offered to take time away from her busy schedule to help. Alya decided they’d work on the play first. Then prepare for the dance, it shouldn’t take that long to decorate anyway, Alya had guess. Then finally they work on the fundraiser. Everything would go perfectly.

…Everything went wrong.

They worked the entire morning on the Mylene’s musical. They tried to work on the costumes. But they had no one who could fix the costumes. Any tailor they went to cost an arm and a leg. Lila’s personal tailor was away helping the Duchess of Manchester with her wedding dress. Max could print flyer but only generic ones. Not the creative ones Marinette had always made. And it wasn’t like they could ask Nathaniel for help without him spitting acid at them. The sets had to be rushed; and ended up poorly painted. Not even close to as good as the ones Marinette had help do the year before and even worse than the ones other classes had done. To make matters worse, the light fixtures they had installed started a small fire.

Mylene had a full blown panic attacked that caused one of the strongest Akuma Queen Bee and Chat Noir had ever faced.

The musical had taken up most of the day. So Alya and the class spent the rest of it and most of the night trying to prepare for the dance. The problem was their budget was small. Apparently it had always been that small which had shocked Alya and the others as they remembered the amazing dances Marinette had always thrown. The only decorations came from the local party story and were as cheap as possible. But they hadn’t gotten nearly enough when they got to gym and fully realize the size of it. But most of their budget was already shot on what they did get.

While for the last few years, Marinette’s had supplied most of the food for the dances from the bakery. It was clear to Alya that, it wouldn’t be happening. Most of the class had been banned from the shop. Alya ended up having to buy dollar store chips and drinks; and ended up with a cliché fruit punch bowl.

Everyone got in trouble with their parents for being out so late. Even if they had been at school. All the kids were exhausted and overly stressed. When Alya got home that night, she got a text from Nino that caused her to burst into tears. His DJ gear had fried. They had no music for the dance.

Not to mention Alya hadn’t even thought about the fundraiser. What was she going to do? What could she do?

Alya cried herself to sleep. Knowing that in the morning she’d have to swallow her pride and call in the big guns. She needed Marinette. They all did.

Marinette was having the time of her life. She laughed as let Heinrich and Mila twirl her around the dance floor. She was at a local teen club, out late, and truly partying for the first time in her life. He was a sixteen-year-old, six foot tall, blond, gorgeous fut-baller, with cheekbones that could cut glass. He had come to the city with his team for a charity match all the way from Germany. Mila was a beautiful redhead from Ireland, with startling blue eyes and a face dusted with freckles. She was a futballer too and was the most competitive person Marinette had ever met.

Marinette had met the futball players, the girls’ team and the boys’ team at the beach. When the girls realized they only had five plays to the boys’ six and needed another girl. They saw Marinette alone and invited her to play. They all had a blast. Afterwards, they invited her to the club that night.

Marinette had danced with everyone. However, somehow she had found herself smashed between Heinrich and Mila, more often than anyone else.

The three laughed their way off the dance floor when Tonya, a local girl with green hair, and a futballer herself, had waved them over.

“We’re going to Fairy Ridge,” Tonya shouted over the music.

Marinette’s interest was piqued. “Fairy Ridge?”

Tonya answered happily, “It’s beautiful at night. An underground cave, near the ocean. It has this opening at the top and you can see all stars. It has a bunch of colorful crystals that glow in the moonlight, and fill up the cave.”

“Sweet,” Mila said, her arm still around Marinette. “Sounds like a party, mate.”

Everyone agreed quickly. But Marinette wasn’t too sure. It was really late to the point where Jagged would be proud when she got back. Penny had made Marinette promise to avoid doing anything that would make Jagged proud; apart from the Bluenette’s usual awesomeness of course.

“You are coming, yes, Marinette?” Heinrich gave her his most charming smile that made Marinette go weak in the knees.

“Marinette, the ridge is so cool,” Tonya exclaimed, a bright smile on her face. “It’s supposed to be magic. They say fairies used to really live there. It’s cursed. They say all who enter are given a test of worth. Those who pass are stolen away to live under fae rule forever more as a fairy.”

Marinette just looked at her. She thought of Tikki, the small magical god of creation, who was enjoying her vacation in the luxury sweet as well. When Marinette left her, she had been in a bowl of cookies finally getting caught up on Game of Thrones. A god who’s power turned Marinette into a magical superhero. Magical was real. And if A kwami was real, fairies could be too.

The bluenette pursed her lips, and feigned a look of disappoint, “Sorry, guys. It’s so late. I’m already super passed my curfew. You guys go. We’ll hang tomorrow, okay?”

The other teens expressed their disappointment, though Mila and Heinrich tried to convince her a bit more as they left the club. Jagger’s personal driver already waited for her.

Once they had parted ways, Marinette got into the car and drove off. She waved brightly to the backs of the beautiful teens, “Not today, Satan.”

Thursday, the entire class was freaking out. They had all gotten there early, desperate to try to fix the mess they were in. Even Alya could admit she needed some serious help. They all waited for Marinette to show up. Surely, it had to be back by now, right? They needed her!

When the school bell rang starting class, and once again, Marinette didn’t appear. Alya nearly screamed. “Where is she?” She asked. “Marinette can’t miss this much school!”

“She’s not replying to my texts,” Mylene said, her eyes frantic with worry. Her boyfriend Ivan tried to calm her down.

“She never got back to me either,” Rose frowned. “Normally I’d get a bunch of questions asking about the style of wanted for my dress by now.”

Alya stomped her foot. “Marinette hasn’t answered a single of calls. What part of S.O.S doesn’t she understand? The dance is falling apart. I have no idea what to do about the fundraiser on Sunday. We need her. I swear if that girl lost her phone again…”

“You’ll do what?” Surprising it was Nathanial who asked this. There was silence at his questions. “That’s what I thought. You’ll do nothing. One, because you have no right to text the girl you disowned as a friend and ridiculed for the last year for help. Two, you couldn’t take Marinette in a fight with everyone in this class helping you. And three, you’re the one who turned down her offers to help all year; citing that you didn’t need her. You don’t get to beg for help at the last minute, and be surprised that she can’t do it.” The speech had turned into an angry rant by the end as the once quiet redhead glared at them with poorly concealed disgust.

Chloe knew bringing Nathanial into their fold had been a smart idea. She sent a vicious smile to the class, “Marinette’s on vacation. She won’t be back until Monday.” Chloe relaxed in her seat. “For her ex-friends; it’s her one week. You should know what that means”

There were gasps. Alya’s face drained of color. They all knew what that meant. Marinette was gone in the wind, and she wouldn’t come back or answer her phone even if fire rained from the sky as furbys finally revealed the truth of their evilness and declared themselves the new rules of earth.

They were on their own.

Lila watched with a frown as her classmates fell apart. She didn’t think this would happened when she got Alya to replace Marinette as class president. Who knew the idiots could survive without the girl?

“No dresses,” Rose realized. All the girls in class looked ready to cry. Marinette always made their dresses, always. What were they going to do? They never saved up any money for a dress because they never had to before.

Mylene started crying, “The play is ruined.” She sobbed. “I worked so hard on it.”

“What about the fundraiser?” Alix asked. “So much for going to New York or anywhere! Our class trip is ruined!”

Bustier looked at a loss of what to do as her student began to panic. “Now everyone calm down. Breath.” She said calmly. “It. Will. Be. Fine.”

Alya paced around the class, her hair wild, her eyes bloodshot from the lack of sleep. “Ok, we can do this! I can do this!” She hissed. “I don’t need Marinette. I’ve never needed Marinette!” She looked around at the class. “None of us do. Anything she can do, we can do better, right?” Some looked unsure but Alya manage to rally everyone. “We can get our own dresses!” She yelled. “We can decorate our own dance. We fix the school play. And we will do the fund raiser. Without her, who need that bully anyway?”

Nathaniel and Chloe shared a look and rolled their eyes. This would be good.

The next few days would go down in Bustier’s class history as the worst three days of the students’ lives. And the most embarrassing.

Barely anyone showed up for Mylene’s musical. None of the costumes were finished. The sets were a disaster. The actors were so frazzled, they couldn’t remember their lines. Three people walked out. One of them was Kim’s grandmother. Kim who had been one of the lead actors.

On the day of Mylene’s play, Marinette woke up from her second nap of day to Penny banging on her door. When the bluenette opened it, the woman screamed, “Get ready!”

“What?” Marinette yawned, still half-asleep.

“Get. Ready. Now,” Excitement shown in the older woman eyes. She bounced around the room, opened Marinette’s closet and started throwing out clothes. “Hurry!”

“Why?” It was her vacation. Marinette didn’t want to rush. Or move.

“Zac Efron,” Penny squealed. That got Marinette’s attention and it was all Marinette need to shoot to attention and start scrambling to get ready. “Tom Holland, and Zendaya are filming a movie on an island close by. Jagged got us passed to go set.”

As Marinette got dressed she asked, “What’s the movie about?”

Penny gave a dreamy sigh, “Pirates and adventures. It’s a musical. Zendaya plays a kickass pirate who takes control of her father’s ship after he dies to rescue her genius half-brother, played by Tom Holland, who managed to figure out the location of the greatest treasure in all of history, from the evil Pirate King, played by Zac Efron.”

“Now that’s a musical I’d watch,” Marinette finished her make up in the mirror.

“And get this!” Penny paused for dramatic effect. “Harry Styles is the love interest. He supposed to be on set sometime this week.”

Marinette screamed.

They took a helicopter to the island. It was the best day of her life. She got to meet the goddess that was Zendaya, Her real life prince charming Tom Holland, and the man of her dreams Zac Efron. They were nice. They were sweet. They took so many pictures and videos with her.

When Jagged mentioned Marinette designed most of his wardrobe. Marinette even got to show off her sketch book she had brought when the cast was too busy and it got boring. Zendaya commissioned a dress. She nearly right there.

Then the director got a call, “Okay Harry’s arrived. He’s waiting at the cave. Time to shoot the act 5, scene 1.”

They all moved to leave.

“Cave?” Marinette found herself asking.

Penny nodded, “Its historically accurate. The real life Captain Wolfblood, the guy who’s treasure everyone wants, supposedly buried his there. Pirates fought and died there all the time trying to find it. Supposed to be cursed. So whoever died was bound there for eternity; their ghosts protect the treasure. Killing all who enter their domain.”

Marinette found herself stopping in her tracks, “Pirate Ghosts.” She stated. “Cursed treasure.”

“Harry Styles…” Penny sang, causing Jagged to give her a sour look.

Harry Styles… For the first time that vacation Marinette was tempted to go. Tempted to risk pirates’ curses and murderous ghosts just to see the man who had caused ten-year-old Marinette to write Mrs. Harry Styles in her diary for a month.

“I actually have to facetime my parents,” Marinette frowned. “Reception terrible out here.”

After promising to meet them for dinner, Marinette booked it off the island. As it faded from sight, and all her wishes of being the future Mrs. Harry Styles burned, she whispered, “You stepped of your game. I’m impressed.” She glared at the window. “But Not today, Satan.”

The dance was a catastrophe. Everyone in class could admit to that. All the girls wore their dresses from the year before. For the first time, there was no live performance. Just Nino’s play music from his phone. Until it died midsong. They forgot to get helium for the balloons, so they had to blow them up themselves. The chips were stale. The punch tasted like rotten bananas. No one alerted the proper staff regarding the dance so no one warned the janitor not to wax the gym floor the night before. Five kids hurt themselves. Alya forgot to get chaperones. And found Damocles and Mendeleiev shut down the entire dance before it even got passed its first hour.

The night of the dance would go down as the best night of Marinette’s life. The director from the day before had liked Marinette so much that gave her the role of Lunaris, mermaid princess, originally played by an actress who had backed out of the role at the last second. Like literally right before they were supposed to shoot her scenes. It was a small role; Marinette didn’t have many lines and only two songs to herself (and fillers song lines throughout the movie). Plus she died. (The entire part took five days to film, and Marinette ended up staying on her vacation an additional two days. Her parents instantly approved; wanting their daughter away from the drama of her ex-friends. However, Marinette would be called in for additional reshoots and scenes, a month later. Then more after that as they would expand her role) She spent the entire time in a mermaid costume. Up until the last act of the movie.

However, her character was in love with Harry Styles’ character, a mermaid prince who became human for chance to win the love of Zendaya’s character. Her character more or less had been the prince’s childhood best friend who never admitted to being in love with him until it was too late. She had spent the entire movie supporting him to win the main character’s heart. Her first song was sang as she helped him escape the underwater kingdom to go to his true love while she hid her own; choosing to put him before herself. The next day it was revealed that they were supposed to have been betrothed and united their kingdoms. Her second song happened after she chose to fight on land to save her friend and taking a killing blow for him; she died singing to the prince about not waiting to tell someone you love until its’ too late; especially if the love’s worth dying for. Or walking on land for.

After shooting her scenes for the day; she was invited by the cast to go meet Chris Heimsworth who was vacationing at a nearby island resort. They were going to go budging jumping of the highest mountain on the Island, near shark infested waters. Again Marinette only had one thing to say to that, “Not today, Satan.” She was not going to fight a shark. Not that week. No matter how much she loved Thor. (She’d later find out Tom Hiddleston was there and cry.)

The fundraiser had cost more than it raised. That was all anyone was willing to say on the subject. Particularly Alya who was missing her eyebrows.

The day of the fundraiser, the Day Marinette was supposed to return home, was bliss. At the end of it, Marinette found herself watching the sunset with Jagged and Penny.

“We should visit mermaid isle,” Penny suggested. “I heard it’s magical. There’s a spot that grants wishes… At a price.”

Marinette didn’t bother to ask for anymore. She just smiled, “Not today, Satan.”

The next morning, the Monday Marinette should have already been back home, instead she was getting ready to shoot some more scene for the movie. Then she got a call.

“Hey Marinette!” Kimi, the director, said. “We were hoping you could come in early today. We have to shoot your death scene.”

“Oh! Sweet! Where?”

“Shark cove. It will be perfect,” Kimi said cheerfully. “This time before your last breath, Harry’s going to kiss you goodbye. So eat a mint.”

Marinette mind froze. Kiss… Harry? “Shark cove?”

“Yeah, we’ll have to be careful not to attract any, you know?” Kimi sighed. “It’ll be a bit dangerous. You okay with that?”

The bluenette wanted to scream no way. But it was a new week. “I’m there,” She said firmly. For a kiss from Harry Styles, she’d do anything.

Vacation time was over. Marinette was going to fight a shark.

When Marinette returned to school on Wednesday, it was to the frustrated faces of her classmates. None of them talked to her. Just glared coldly. Though Alya did give her a sarcastic, welcome back.

Marinette just shrugged and went to sit at her desk next to Chloe and Nathaniel, who were both grinning.

“How was it?” Marinette asked them.

Nathaniel smirked, “Epic! Three fires. Two poisonings. A kid broke his leg. Four more ended up in the emergency room.”

“The play was a disaster,” Chloe added. “The dance was shut down after an hour. The fire department came to the so called fund raiser. You were gone for little more than a week and these morons nearly got themselves killed like four times.”

“We got in on video!” Nathaniel laughed.

Marinette laughed.

She looked at the stressed and embarrassed students of Bustier’s class, even the teacher looked worse for wear.

Marinette smirked.

Somebody obviously needed a vacation. Or rather… Everybody.

#ml salt #ml fic #marinette dupen chang #Marinette deserves better

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nari-nim · 4 years

Text

forever anticipating

“hi i don't know if your requests are open but if they are can you write an scenario in which hyunsuk sets jihoon and y/n on a blind date? fluffy? btw do you think he would kiss on the first date?”

aww anonie this is the cutest request! time for some SOFT JIHOON HOURS! To answer your question, I think Jihoon is highly intuitive and can read body language well so he will use that to inform his decision whether or not to go for the kiss! If his date is down, he will not hesitate. I hope you enjoy the direction I took :) lmk what you think!! 💓

This is how Jihoon secretly looks at you when you aren’t looking during your date. gif credit goes to @khaly-no

Treasure Jihoon x Y/N

warnings: none, this FLUFFY

word count: 1.8k

— the dorms —

Video game night was in full swing and it has never been louder in the dorms. Jeongwoo screeched over the sound of six other members’ simultaneous bickering. Meanwhile, Asahi decided now was the perfect time hit whoever blinked with a couch pillow. Normally, Hyunsuk wouldn’t have tolerated this level of rowdiness under his roof. But he was busy. He sat quietly on the far end of the sofa tapping furiously into his phone, a sly smile plastered across his features.

“Hey, Jihoon—oh my god,” Hyunsuk said, his smile melting as soon as he looked up. The chaos activated his leader (mother) mode. “Jihoon-Jeongwoo get down. Jeongwoo, please. Haruto, wait--Junkyu-Junkyu- ASAHI”

Asahi stopped. The rest followed suit.

The room turned to normal levels of volume, and Hyunsuk was able to try again.

“Jihoon, come here.” Jihoon perked up from his Mashiho impersonation, and got up to join Hyunsuk.

“Bro, you should join us. Junghwan is killing it, you don’t want to miss his true maknae on top moment.” (He’s actually not, the beloved super king cow king baby is getting crushed by Haruto every round). Jihoon slid next to Hyunsuk, glancing at his phone screen. “What are you...”

Hyunsuk flashed him a cheeky smile and hid what he was working on for the past half hour.

“You’re going on a blind date tomorrow.”

“No way, this feels somewhat illegal. Tell me more.”

“Her name is y/n and I met her through a mutual friend. They go to uni together and we met at that hangout I went to last weekend. Park Jun, she is exactly your type. You gotta trust me on this one.”

Jihoon blinked at him, for once without a witty remark. Jihoon squinted at Hyunsuk, and chuckled in disbelief. Reality was hitting him and logic does not like that shit eating grin on Hyunsuk’s face.

“Hyunsuk, you’re setting me up? You, really? This is actually happening? Right before our flight to Japan?”

“Yeah. Tomorrow early morning at the Han River. You’ll have a few hours before we head over to Incheon.”

Jihoon ruffled his hair and sat back into the couch. He sucked in a breath. Hyunsuk frowned, “you don’t want to? Sorry man, I really thought your vibes would’ve matched and-“

“Oh no no, hyung, I’m just...worried since we’re going to promote in Japan for the next two weeks and our schedules are so busy. It might end up hurting us both,” Jihoon confessed. “And it’s been forever since I last been on a date.”

“Nah I think you’re worrying way too much in advance. The policy is chill now and, hey, who can say no to waiting a few weeks for those abs,” Hyunsuk reassured.

“Oh right, I’m going to flash my abs the fifth minute in,” Jihoon said sarcastically. He did make a mental note, though, because if you really are that cute? He’ll need that Plan G.

“Here, I’ll text you the address now. You better not flake and make me look bad.”

“HEY! What are you guys WHISPERING about!” Jeongwoo said, looking at them suspiciously. Simultaneously, the nonactive players of the game whipped their heads to stare at the pair.

“Nothing, the grownups are talking” Jihoon joked, dramatically nodding and shooting thumbs up at Hyunsuk. Jihoon left the resulting hysterics and sound of Hyunsuk cackling behind for the comforts of his room where he checked his buzzing phone. Turns out, Hyunsuk had attached the pictures of you, figuring he would give Jihoon that peace of mind (and a way to find you tomorrow) under the instructions.

Holy shit.

Jihoon eyes widened. You are exactly his type. Jihoon couldn’t stop staring at your smiling features. The soft smile that colored his features never left his face for the rest of the night.

He couldn’t wait.

— Han River —

Wow ok, this is slightly worse than evaluation days, Jihoon decided, nervously kicking a small pebble around on the dusty road.

“Hey, Jihoon?”

Jihoon froze for a millisecond and turned around to face you.

You looked ethereal in the early morning sun. The light reflected off your lovely features, illuminating the kind glow of your smile. Jihoon made another mental note to treat Hyunsuk to dinner once they land in Japan.

“The one and only. Y/n?”

“Yes,” you nodded shyly. “It’s nice to meet you, Jihoon.”

Jihoon loved hearing his name coming from your lips. Which were so pretty and pink and—

Jihoon cleared his throat. “Likewise.” After a small pause, “Is there anything you would like to do in particular while we get to know each other?”

You laughed, the sound music to Jihoon’s ears. He wants to hear that all the time now, he decided.

“I actually really like taking pictures of random beautiful things that pique my interest! Maybe we can just go for a walk and explore what we find beautiful about the Han River?”

“Perfect,” Jihoon smiled widely, which somehow grew when he noticed the blush in your cheeks.

And that’s how you two somehow went from exchanging detailed introductions to sharing hobbies to discussing life goals and values, all while snapping amazing scenery pics. This developed into a made up game of taking the best picture, judged entire on a subjective and nondemocratic point system. The winner gets uncontested glory and a copy of all the photos of the loser’s captured moments.

“HAHA, y/n I just got the spiciest photo of these golden bell flowers over this ledge!”

“What, how??” You whipped around from trying to make some daisies look aesthetic. The competitive side of you was taking over.

“I guess it’s one of the perks of being taller,” Jihoon said, hopping down the said six foot tall ledge he spent the last few minutes scaling. He dusted his pants off carefully and flashed you his eye smile. In a singsong voice, he said, “and one of those perks is winning this game~”

Yeah you were not about to risk a broken arm for that picture. “Okay, fine, but show it to me?”

“Nuh uh.” He flashed you the picture in one second bursts, having the best time teasing you.

Jihoon paused. He got so comfortable with you in the last hour that he just teased you like he does with the other Treasure members. His worries were interrupted at the adorable sight of you giggling. He internally sighed of relief.

“NuH uH,” you mimicked backed at him, reaching for his phone.

Jihoon quickly yanked his phone above his head, dramatically leaned his body so it was out of your reach. Surprised, you tried to change course. But in the spur of the moment, the momentum carried you just a tad too far. You bump slightly into his chest. Jihoon instinctively grabbed at you to prevent you from losing your balance further, his hands falling on your waist. His large hands felt so warm through the fabric, his breath brushing as the top of your forehead. You were so close.

His eyes widened, heat rushing to his cheeks. For a second, your eyes meet. You wonder if he can hear the thundering in your chest.

Jihoon quickly let go and took a step back, slightly bowing at you. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to grab you like that!”

You could tell your face was absolutely flushed at this point, but you made a show of brushing off your outfit and stuck your nose in the air, “as long as you don’t have cooties.”

“Ooh,” Jihoon winced. “I definitely do. Exclusive, premium, limited edition cooties.”

You laughed, thankful he didn’t press you on the obvious blush. Although it’s not like his face was any better.

“Hey, y/n,” Jihoon said, pulling you out of your internal monologue. “This might be about it for the date. My phone has actually been blowing up with reminders to get back.”

Oh, You tried to hide the sadness in your face. The few hours you spent together seemed to fly by so fast, and you definitely longed for more. Within the span of the date, he showed just how incredible he is—unyielding dedication to his dreams, selfless outlooks on life, and a kind, hilarious and loving personality that felt like sunshine on a rainy day.

Jihoon noticed the quiet pause, and softly asked, “May I walk you home?”

You let out an airy laugh. “Not unless you want to walk 45 minutes in one direction and an hour in the other, Park Jihoon. It’s okay, I’ll take the subway!”

“Right, right,” Jihoon chuckled. You guys reached an intersection leading pedestrians away from the river sidewalk. The signs pointed to your destinations in opposite directions, which felt too meta for your taste.

Jihoon turned to face you.

“You know, golden bell flowers means anticipation in flower language.” He looked the most serious he has ever been all morning.

You mustered yourself to look into his eyes.

“That’s suitable, Jihoon, because I anticipate for you to call me as soon as you safely land and are available.”

“Deal.”

Numbers and addresses (for postcards, he claims) were exchanged.

“Jihoon, I had an amazing time today.” You said, suddenly feeling shy again. A part of you wished you could walk him back, but that would attract unwanted attention.

“Me too, y/n. Thanks for waking up so early to spend all this time with me.” Jihoon said, the tone of his voice so soft and genuine.

He shifted a little closer, eyes flickering to your lips.

Your eyes widened.

He leaned in and gently rested his hand against the back of your head. His eyes searched yours, asking.

Oh my god, yes please. You drew even closer in answer, eyes fluttering shut.

Jihoon closed the distance. His lips gently pressed into yours, completing a perfect puzzle. The kiss was was warm, sweet and heartfelt. Your lips gently moved against each other, before you pulled slightly away for air. As your foreheads rested against each together, a warm wave unfurled in your chest.

Just a little more, you thought. Jihoon seemed to agree as you both lean in again, this time the kiss far less hesitant. Your hands rest against his chest while he cups your face with his. Jihoon pulled back, pushing a strand of hair behind your ears. His phone was aggressively ringing, you realize.

“I’ll see you, y/n.”

“I’ll anticipate you, Jihoon.”

He watched your retreating figure for a bit before he headed back to the dorm, giddy with joy.

— your home —

A few days later, a package arrived. It was from Jihoon. Your heart raced.

He never mentioned anything about this in his calls, you excitedly thought.

You slowly pulled out the contents, marveling at each one. A picture of the Han River reflecting the morning light. A dozen of printed photos he somehow took of you that day (you laughing at something you took, looking off into the river, and crouching over vegetation). A polaroid of him in the hotel room, “you better be missing me so damn hard” it captioned. You chuckled, touched by his gift.

You were about to close the envelope until you realized there’s still one item left. You reached in. And you gasped.

A golden bell flower, pressed by hand.

#treasure #jihoon #treasure jihoon #treasure jihoon fluff #requested #treasure jihoon scenarios #treasure fluff #treasure imagines #treasure scenarios #treasure park jihoon #park jihoon fluff #treasure x reader

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ledamemangociana · 3 years

Text

this is not a happy post

apologies in advance, especially to anyone who followed me coz of my various gifsets; i know this kind of thing isn’t what you’re here for.

i’m unfortunately prone to a venting a lot and lengthily when my depression, anxiety and self-esteem issues get the better of me. most of the time, im feels-vomiting on my twitter, mostly coz i havent used my tumblr quite as regularly as i used to 6, maybe 7 years ago. i’m mostly doing this here now coz i feel like i need the writing momentum to not be stilted by having to click the “add new tweet” button over and over again.

so. i’m turning 35 two weeks from now. and it is getting to me, possibly because of the situation that the pandemic has kept me in for the past year and a half, maybe because 35 feels like a milestone adult age, maybe because turning 35 means 40 is right around the corner. and the closer my 35th birthday is, the more i’m plagued by thoughts of where i am now, where i’m probably supposed to be as an adult, where i wanted to be, and the thought that i’m just never gonna be good enough to not be who and where i am now.

in feb 2020, i started my new job as the digital marketing manager for a pair of upscale hotels, the biggest deal of a job i’ve ever gotten since i started working in late 2011, and the biggest paycheck i’ve ever signed on for too. for the first time in a long time, possibly in forever, the few big dreams i had ever had for myself seemed to be attainable; it felt like they could become goals. a solo trip to japan, getting a place for myself instead of living in the family condo, growing my collections, maybe having an actual social life, those kinds of things seemed within reach.

and then, literally a month into my new job, the country went into lockdown, and legitimately has never come out of it. my work situation changed drastically, to the point where i ran up both of my credit card bills before the year was over (i literally only just got one of them fully paid off last week, and only because my sister was a HUGE help), and i was living off the limited family funds and relying on dad to take care of me. i had a freelance client for a handful of months, only for them to drop me without word at the end of our contract, leaving me without a chunk of the only funds i was making on my own for a while. i’m now working sporadically at my regular job, with a significant cut to my paid hours and therefore my paycheck, but the tasks list just seems to grow longer with each task that i check off of it, leaving me overworked and underpaid (but of course,i know im not alone or special in this, some people have it far worse than me and i’m grateful that i even have a regular work schedule, even if it does look the way it does). im 260 lbs., wearing size 22 or 24 clothes, somewhat sickly and prone to constant painful gout attacks that make it difficult for me to walk, living in a condo unit owned by family because they’re letting me live here, making only a third of the salary i normally should at work without the panemic, subsisting on junk food and softdrinks (it’s an addiction) because much of my money leaves my wallet and goes to paying bills and loans as soon as the money comes in, alone, unloved, unlovable, as prone to hyperfixation as i’ve ever been, and putting up with constantly re-attaching bromides and instax pics that keep falling off of my recently completed anime wall.

i’m 34 years old. i’m turning 35 in two weeks.

you know who else is 34/35 this year? the local barangay captain, a member of the local govnerment unit, who was one of my classmates in grade school and high school. a few years ago, i had seen a tarp across the street advertising her local work-out and yoga classes.

i’ve always hated the question “where do you see yourself 5 years from now/10 years from now/in the future?” because i’ve never been able to truthfully answer it, even when i wasnt an emotionally unstable mess (which was all the way back in elementary). i close my eyes and try to imagine it, and nothing ever comes up. i’d like to think i have an active enough imagination to have been able to write fanfic a lot back in the day, so you know it’s bad when i can’t even imagine a lofty future for myself. at this point in my life, i can’t even say “just simply alive” because i truly don’t know if i will be, i don’t see it. that’s fatalistic, maybe, but i really have never been able to imagine myself living to 40, let alone past that. anything i want for myself remain dreams, things i dont deserve because im not thin, pretty, smart, cultured, skilled. and the closer i get to 40, the less of that already non-existent future i see.

and it’s just depressing, you know. like. it’s already so hard being depressed about and hating myself WITHOUT this added thought of “you are only growing older and fatter and are headed literally nowhere and everyone your age is far more responsible and mature than you could even dream you’d ever be” mixed in there too. maybe this is just me beating myself up and being my own harshest bully, but what’s stopping me from believing that i deserve this bullying of myself by myself, lmao.

i dread every birthday. i stopped dreaming things for myself a long time ago. these are all things i just know i can’t and won’t ever live up to, because i’m just this useless sack of potatoes rotting away in the corner of some barn while everyone else is finding some use for themselves and able to make lemonade out of their own lemons, and stuff like that. and yet knowing i’ll never be those things or have those things makes me sad. for someone with a laundry list of negative things about myself i’ve just learned to accept so i can somehow function, having that list sure does make me sad. and it probably shouldn’t, if im so resigned to all of this, but maybe that’s just what happens when you hate yourself - there will always be a reason for you to hate yourself.

oh, and i think i’m coming down with carpal tunnel in my left hand. great.

#Mango Goes To Jail #long post #sorry this is kinda depressing #i just needed to vent #im feeling myself slipping into Yet Another Depressive Spell

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sanddancingwithanxiety · 4 years

Text

I started this on a reblog that came up on my dash and then it went off on a tangent and got deeply personal so anyway I've got 20 mins left of work and am kinda done things pending managers approval so I have time to actually make thoughts happen

So here are my incoherent thoughts on the whole cc thing.

In advance - please don’t reblog these are literally just my thoughts and feelings, have fun, go take the screenshots into your discord or group chats or anon messages (not that they’ll be answered cos i block IPs, bye) or whatever and leave me alone.

As I mentioned a few days earlier, MY BAD cos I'd seen it work in photography groups. It made it a safe space for people to share content because if people just wanted to share pics they were happy with, they could, if people wanted feedback gently, they could, and if people said tear it to pieces, they could. So I said HEY what if we do a thing.

If you're reading this and you've interpreted it as being passive aggressive thing - i assure you that's literally not the intention. There are people on here (me! Hello! I'll put my hand up!) who don't feel welcome and/or aren't in the headspace or just don't have the time to write out massive replies. Maybe they’ll put CC welcome on next week when they do have replies or they are in the headspace or whatever. Or they may not, that’s their perogative.

But anyway, for me, a summary - my photos of arthur are me sharing pics because he’s fucking cute and i like pics. I follow blogs who post lots of pics of their own horse. That’s what I like, so that’s what I do. On my pics, questions, and thought provoking ones at that, are always welcome, although I do prefer DMs. My��DMs especially are always open, and encouraged. That way I can message you back on my schedule, not after the removed from context reblog commentary has made the rounds on many other blogs. I say this because it’s happened to me multiple times in ~the glory days~ when an out of context post got reblogged 1000 times with an out of context reply. And I'm not down for one out of context reply to go circling. Personal preference.

I personally have found that replying on to someone's post when not asking can be performative as opposed to going to their DMs. And I’ve done it, i think i did it literally a month ago about someone making their tack and being like hurr durr don’t make a saddle cos it’s important to get it fitted for X Y Z instead of being like hey what tack ya making, oh a breastplate, cool cool? And I think i was a dick for not just DMing them. Bad lexi!! But anyway, back on topic, with DMs, sure, you get no street cred for showing off your education, but you can have a more frank discussion about it, and generally the person on the other side assumes you have better attention. But hey I'm probably just scarred from my 6 years on this hellsite lol.

For me, I will probably always say no cc or max gentle cc on a lot of stuff, because I have a trainer who I work with very closely and make literally every decision in my horse care collaboratively with, a bunch of people who call me on my shit, and an agistment owner who couldn't sugar coat a thing if she tried (there have been tears lmao) who are looking out for Arthur's welfare and completely understand the context in which he lives and works. I have been at the point many years ago with a young horse and using three instructors at once and having various and often conflicting pieces of advice given by horseblr and I have been confused as fuck navigating it all. I have successfully found a team of people I trust including trainer, agistment owner, physiotherapist and biomechanics specialist, chiropractor, saddle fitter and dentist. Unfortunately my vet moved to the UK and the farrier is... an ongoing drama so I am litcherally always down for feet and health input. But for the others, Arthur is 100% covered, promise. However, I know this site is full of people who don’t have access to professionals they can put their trust in with no hesitations. I’ve been there and I get it. So by all means, do what you gotta do.

The alternative to no cc is of course the good old disclaimer. The old 'yes my hands are shit and my legs are shit and my shoulders are rounded and my reins are too short but I was happy with this!!!'. I USED TO DO IT AND IT FUCKING SUCKED and it further shat on my already low self esteem. Like god it sucked so badly. Something I was happy with and improved my mental health suddenly made me feel so awful. I hated having to swim in all my flaws like that when they were being worked on in lessons already anyway. And I personally have big problems with mindfulness and one of the biggest things I've had to work on w Arthur is not sitting there thinking in the middle of a ride after I fuck something up 'that's my fault cos my hands are shit god I suck', I've had to work on keep going cos that moment has already passed and by focusing on what's already happened it just fucked me up cos Arthur was like ... hello? Anyone up there??? So yeah there's always that option. Personally, didn't help, hence why I prefer the no cc thing.

But basically I would encourage anyone who is fine with cc to go ahead and write cc welcome on their stuff, or no cc if you want. You're not choosing a side (well, in my opinion) you're just setting boundaries on a very difficult space to set boundaries. Sometimes it is time and energy that some of us do no not have, so maybe we'll put cc welcome on a post later in the week when we do. Sometimes we are sensitive. But anyway, you do you, If you want cc then please put cc welcome on your post, whether that's gentle cc or fuck me up cc. Set boundaries, you control your internet use and your spaces. Of course the internet is the internet, but please make it the welcoming space you want. No cc might mean I'm already working on this with my trainer, I'm on it. It might mean hey I feel like I want to die tonight can you please just let me look at my hoss.

#do not reblog #about me #kinda #dnr #long post

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losingitinjersey · 5 years

Photo

I continue to be amazed by how busy life has become as a new parent. I always figured since I was spending time at home that I’d have plenty of time to tackle projects around the house, maybe cull through drawers and clean things out. Nope! There are days when I barely find the time to do a 10 minute yoga session. To be fair, I’m prioritizing things over it - like a nap or a shower.

All this to say I’ve had several draft posts waiting to be written for weeks. My problem is I like to spend at least 30+ minutes crafting a post from my laptop rather than posting on the mobile app. We’ll see how that changes moving forward. I keep hoping that once I make a catch up post (like this one) I then have the freedom to post more frequently, likely from my phone. I keep taking pictures of every meal and activity like I’m posting daily thus resulting in a phone chock full of pics that never get posted.

The pictures above are a good summary of what I’ve been up to. Of most significance - I’m officially back into walking! Since January 14th (three weeks postpartum) I’ve made my way out the door nine times (my first two walks weren’t logged due to my not downloading Runkeeper to my new phone in advance). Today marked my first day out with just erp - and it was great!!! Thankfully I had eight other walks under my belt (three with the babe) to get my comfort level back up, so I felt fully prepared today to go solo. This week I even did my first five mile walk, which I used to do every other day pre-pregnancy. Today, I listened to a “Getting Curious” podcast and loved the time outdoors in the fresh air with erp even though she was sleeping the entire time as she’s prone to do any time she’s in her car seat (hallelujah!).

I also started lifting again this week! Starting off from square one doing just the bar for bench and squat and minimal weights for deads. It feels soso good integrating fitness back into my life again after basically being off for the last nine months. I’m starting to be mindful of my eating and while I’m not back to strict keto I am trying to do moderate/low-carb. I’m not counting every calorie but have started logging some meals in to get an idea of what my intake is while also stepping on the scale a few times per week. I’m sure I’ll be back to full blown weight-loss efforts soon as I’m not a fan of how clothes are fitting now that I don’t have a baby bump to work with.

Yoga is back to an every day priority which also brings back my vinyl of the day, which I’d missed. I do love a solid routine!

Erp is now over a month old (WHAT) and the center pic is an outtake from her one month photoshoot for FB documentation (although, I don’t intend to post more than at one, six and twelve months I’m sure I’ll continue to take them for my own records). That bottom lip quiver gets me every time. Since I’m not into frequent FB posting I downloaded an app called Tiny Beans where just my family and friends who want an onslaught of pics can subscribe and see the daily pics and videos I’m posting. It feels like a really happy medium.

Saki continues to be my best friend and occupies my lap any time there’s not a baby on it. While he’s protective of his brood he isn’t the biggest fan of the babe. He’ll usually jump on me, discover my lap is full, give her a good few sniffs before running off. Occasionally he’ll share my lap or arms with her when he’s especially needy but that’s been rare. Although, when he sees I’m sans baby he’ll be my shadow and can barely wait for me to sit down before he climbs on me for all the cuddles.

Check out this random sprout coming out of this succulent! I’ve had the plant since my bff’s bridal shower in May but apparently this little growth wanted to make his appearance nine months later on January 17th and the last picture taken today, January 28th. I know nothing about plants but that seems like an awful lot of growth for just over a week. I’m fascinated to see what’s going to happen next! When is it going to get too tall to keep going straight up? Will it lose all structural integrity and collapse? Will it flower!? This sprout is keeping me more than entertained.

Speaking of entertainment, I’m zipping through shows like nobody’s business. I’m sure I’m unable to remember all programming I’ve consumed but I’ve completed at least the following shows: Fleabag, Crashing, BoJack Horseman, latest season of Grace and Frankie, You, Troop Zero, Unbelievable, Brittany Runs A Marathon, and I’m currently on the second season of The Let Down. Not to say that I’m prioritizing watching shows over being productive, it’s just that I’m trapped in a chair either breastfeeding, pumping or rocking my child for the majority of the day and there’s only so much social media I can stomach.

Breastfeeding and pumping have been going pretty well although I’ve recently been very close to running out of my entire stock of milk since my child is now on an extreme growth spurt. She’s eating about 34oz a day and I’m producing roughly 32oz. This past weekend we started supplementing with formula so I can start building back up a supply for when daycare starts next week. I’m now pumping every two hours during the day and every three hours at night. Each time I feed her about 6oz of breast milk then 2-3oz of formula to top her off. I had allllll the feels about not being able to keep up and needing to use formula but thankfully I’m less emotional about it now that we’ve started doing it. Fed is best and I’m doing everything I can for her and that has to be enough.

All in all I’m doing really really well. I’ve never had more purpose or felt this fulfilled and I’m loving taking care of erp, Kevin, Saki, the house and myself. Sadly, this precious time starts to end this coming Monday when I go back to work. Thankfully, I negotiated having six additional weeks of flex time so I’ll work from the office 2-3 days a week and work from home the remaining days. Although, given how hard it is for me to get anything done I am worried how my work is going to suffer on days I’m working from home. I doubt anyone (other than myself) has high expectations of me so I just need to give myself grace and try and find a balance. Easier said than done, I’m sure!

For now, my daughter is sound asleep in my arms, I’ve got half an hour before another pumping session then onto making dinner. Even though this post is more than long enough, I have to add - Kevin has been amazing. His school schedule has been extremely light so he’s home most of the day and does more than his fair share of baby duty. He’ll prop her up on his desk while he’s playing computer games while feeding her or holding her as she falls asleep. He just loves being with her as often as he can be. He takes the first part of most night shifts so I can get rest and reminds me constantly how proud he is of me and how well I’m doing. My favorite time is when we do bath time together as a team sport. I really lucked out in the partner department and, man, did we make a cute kid!

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dashielldeveron · 5 years

Text

Viper VI: Suppressio Veri

Summary: Reality continues to ruin your life. This jackassery will not stand.

Warnings: violence, swears, the law. Severe injury.

Ding.

You reached towards your holster and silenced your phone. “I’m here to see Judge Le,” you said, sliding the papers across the check-in counter. “She’s expecting me.”

The receptionist hardly glanced at you. “Have you visited her before?”

“Yes. She’s on the third floor. Room 310. I’m dropping off gifts from her co-workers,” you said, shifting your bag up your shoulder.

Ding.

“She should be awake by now. I doubt you’ll get much conversation out of her, though; she only just got out of her second surgery this morning.”

“I don’t mind,” you said, “and I won’t be long. I’ll just be glad to see her again.”

“Go on, then,” she said, “Elevator’s broken. Take the stairs.”

You nodded and strode in their direction—not directly, though, because Judge Le wasn’t your only target this time at the hospital. You were doing a run checking up on the doctors and admins who took care of members of the mob and kept it under wraps. A thank you, if you will. Judge Le was going to be the recipient of direct evidence you were going to deliver regarding an upcoming trial—and you’d had time between the Davey’s run and physically seeing Ms. Pham today, so you’d picked up more biscotti than usual for the doctors. Security and common courtesy, really.

Ding.

And Tom wouldn’t stop fucking texting you, yet he wasn’t quite saying anything. You unlocked your phone.

Tom: You’re late. I thought I told you I wanted you in my office at 9:00 sharp?

Tom: Where are you?

Tom: I want you now.

Stopping in your tracks, you (with a rather dry throat) twiddled your thumbs uselessly over the keys before typing out a response.

You: Chill. I’m at Central Hospital. What do you need?

You stowed your phone away, determined to make him wait, and you swung open the door to the stairs. The doctors’ break room was on the second floor, so you’d run by that first. You counted five stairs before checking your notifications.

Tom: You. In person.

You: What do you need me to check out?

Tom: Give me a second, and I’ll show you.

Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Second floor door, here we are.

Ding.

Does he not have anything else to do? He actually had a meeting scheduled at 9:00 this morning, so that was why you weren’t there. Tom should be meeting with the D’Aleo underboss, but he apparently wasn’t, if he had the time to text you back. You opened his message, and your heel curled in, making you stumble.

Tom: Don’t be gentle with me.

[image attached]

Tom had sent you a picture of another polaroid, this one of you and Tom exiting the sewer, both grimy as all get out. However, he had taken a picture of it lying flat on the edge of his desk, and the bottom third of it showed his clenched left fist resting on his upper thigh, his pants so tight that you could make out the hem of his tucked-in shirt through them, and his belt pulled snugly around his hips with the end unlooped, probably intentionally loosely curled around half of his cock—the view you would have if you were resting your chin on his shoulder and looked down.

You leant against the wall outside the break room and held your phone to your chest. Fuck. Fffffuck. This manipulation, this—charming—of you. 1) He didn’t know you knew about it. 2) What exactly did he want? You didn’t have any ulterior motives.

3) You wanted it. Oh, God, did you want it. 4) But you wanted Tom to treat you like this out of genuine feelings, not to get something out of you. So, 5) you couldn’t exactly respond well, because you’d be doing exactly what he wanted you to, except 5a) you didn’t haven any information he wanted [5b) except where you lived, your social security, etc.].

6) You were a little insulted that he thought he could charm you through basic shit like hot dominance and a pic of his lap. 7) You hated that it was working.

So, 8) how do you handle this?

Mulling it over, you allowed yourself to leave the letters to the doctors on payroll and to arrange the biscotti (traditional, lemon wedding, and chocolate almond) and crumiri in the doctors’ lounge before you responded.

You: Am I supposed to be impressed? I can’t make that out for shit.

Tom: Come back to Osseous to get a better look.

You: I’m busy, Holland.

Tom: Oh, yeah? With what?

You snapped a picture of the biscotti, pausing to bite out of a crumiri, and held it up in front of the rest.

You: Want a bite?

You moved to stow away your phone, but he responded immediately.

Tom: More than one.

Time to stop. Time to fucking stop. Shoving the crumiri into your mouth, you left the doctors’ lounge, fuming. You had made it halfway back to the stairs before he sent you another text, and you scowled, stopping in front of an open hospital room and tapping your heel with aggression.

Tom: It’s time to stop fucking around and come home, V.

Your fingernails tapped against the screen as you tried to figure out what to say, and from the open hospital room, you heard a weak voice call your name—your real fucking name.

Hand on your knife, you treaded lightly into the hospital room, completely void of personal effects, where on the bed lay a body heavily shrunken by severe burns. Months ago, you would have winced and shied away, but now, you merely grew closer towards the red and white flesh, twisted, scarred, and barely healing—second and fucking third degree, oh, my God, primarily around the upper body, and disfiguring almost to the point of non-recognition the face of—oh, gross.

Your old boss, Polson, scowled at you from his hospital bed and pressed a button so that it tilted into a sitting position. Tendons around the bones in his hand quivered when he did, and he let out a deep breath, like the action had been too much for him. “If it isn’t the bitch who left my firm without even a two-week notice. What do you want?”

If that’s how it’s going to be. “What happened to you, Mr. Polson?”

“You weren’t hard to replace. There are thousands of desperate receptionists out in New York, but it pissed me off to go through the hiring process again,” he said, “Got someone who doesn’t complain, though.”

You crossed your arms. “That poor woman. Why are you in the hospital?”

“I bet you’re making your new boss’s life a living hell, right? Unless you’re working for yourself now, which would make sense why I haven’t heard a damn thing about you.”

Ding.

Polson glared at your hip, and you silenced your phone again. “My new boss can be demanding.”

“Is that him?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“You bothered to sleep with him, right?”

“Mr. Polson,” you said, “You, of all people, should know that I will never compromise professionalism and justice for the sake of my own personal advancement or enjoyment, and I will never use anything other than my brain to move forward. With all due respect, sir—” Shit, you shouldn’t’ve called him that; old habits, you guessed. “—I’d like to move on to why you’re lying in a pathetic, empty hospital room, looking like you’ve been frying in bacon grease for the past four hours. Care to elaborate?”

Polson shifted in his bed and tugged his sheets farther up his chest. “Someone lit my house on fire. I was sleeping. Didn’t realise until it reached my bed.” He licked his lips and the burnt skin surrounding them.

Ding.

“How do you know it was arson? You could’ve left your stupid gas stove on—”

“Roscoe’s and Jennings’s apartments burnt down this past two weeks, too,” said Polson, “Or are you too big and important nowadays to remembers your co-workers?”

No, you remembered. Roscoe worked with child custody cases, and Jennings was Polson’s co. Jennings liked talking about superhero movies with you, and Roscoe was the first one to show you the town when you moved here. Roscoe was the one who had helped you move into your own apartment, along with another co-worker, Harriet, who lived below you. “Someone’s…targeting members of your staff? You don’t think they’re accidents?”

Ding.

“Firefighters say all the fires started at the front door,” said Polson, “and whenever I get my hands on whoever did this fucking shit—” He made a choking motion, his hand shaking with tension. “We’re all staying at a hotel until we can find new places, but you know how the market is.”

Ding.

Nodding, you moved to leave, but you, with doubt and pity, backtracked to give Polson a pack of leftover biscotti. He wouldn’t look at you.

Tom: You do as you’re told, understand?

Tom: If you don’t get your ass to Osseous within the next thirty minutes, you’re on sentry duty in Brooklyn for a month.

Tom: I don’t care about traffic. The deadline stands. Come here.

Tom: I get it. You’re ignoring me because of how much of a hardass I’m being, yeah? Well. Show me you can follow orders, and I’ll be a lot kinder.

You: Say please.

***

Tom wasn’t in his office, even though his schedule said he’d be there, so you took the elevator to the lower floors and checked them, culminating with your coming to a halt when you stepped into a conference room permeated with smoke and sweat. You wiped your nose with the back of your hand.

“Viper,” came Tom’s voice through the haze, “Good of you to finally show up.” He must be at the head of the conference table, judging from the direction of his voice; how many others were present? Motion, motion—from both sides, multiple pairs of hands, cigars, cufflinks—the suits. Funding. They weren’t supposed to be here until tonight (that meant there were six of them, because Taylor cancelled). You rubbed the fog off your watch—they were hours early, and you were late for Ms. Pham.

You got out your phone to text her that you’d run into a snag, but Tom’s voice came through the smoke, sharper this time. “Ah, ah, Viper, put that thing away. You don’t need it here.”

You glanced at Tom, his figure becoming clearer as he waved the fog away. “Try to stop me.”

The air thinned as the suits fell silent. “Is that a challenge?” Tom asked coldly, snuffing out his cigar in the ashtray. “You’ve always had a mouth on you—and I can think of a few ways to shut you up.”

Laughter from the suits. One of them (Cristo, from the files) grabbed your hand and jerked you towards him, one of your hips pressed against his shoulder. “A girl like you shouldn’t be so disobedient,” he said—and when he tried to nuzzle his nose against your hip, you flinched out of his grip and struck the back of his head.

“Don’t infantilise me,” you said, brows downturned and heat rushing to your face, “A girl is a child, punk. That’s not me. And I’m not here for you to touch.”

When another suit reached for your hand, Tom said, “Enough.” He was staring you down, his eyes not quite angry, but you couldn’t label what it was exactly. He beckoned you with two fingers, his golden watch slipping down his wrist and into his shirtsleeve.

Tom yanked you down to his level (his hand was warm from holding the cigar) and said into your ear, spit flicking onto you from the harsh consonants. “Listen. I can’t have these people all over you, and these morons are old-fashioned. If they see a woman dominate me, they’re not gonna back me anymore.”

“Don’t you trust me?” you said under your breath.

“You’re not the one I don’t trust,” said Tom, and he licked his lips, the tip of his tongue grazing the shell of your ear. “You know I’m on your side, right? You’ve got to do this for me.”

Hell to the fucking no. If Tom thinks you’re going to sacrifice your dignity and reputation that you’ve built over the past year, then he’s got to—

“Please.”

Oh. Oh, no. Oh, God. Oh, fuck. You held your breath for a moment, and then you said aloud, shrinking away from him, “Yes, sir.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Tom loudly, shoving your hand away, “If you think that was bad, just wait and see what I’m gonna do to you once I get you alone. Go wait in my office for me.”

“Yes, sir,” you said, nodding once, and you skirted out of the room, a final laugh from a suit erupting before you shut the door.

What now? You guess…you guessed you go wait in his office.

Once there and mindlessly assigning via email capos territory scouting overnight, you had time to think. That whole interaction was weird as hell. Who were these guys Tom was keen on keeping an image with? They weren’t anyone extraordinary. Just businessmen. Yeah, there were loads of people you had to work with in this business who didn’t treat people right, let alone women, whom they didn’t consider to be people—it was like they were straight out of Tolstoy’s The Kreutzer Sonata: misogynistic, violent men apt to jump to conclusions about deception and sex.

Was this a sex thing? Were they under the impression Tom was fucking you? (You shook yourself; the bluntness of that thought shocked you. Sleeping with. Under the impression Tom was sleeping with you.) You supposed that most of them would think that a don would only be keeping a woman around for sex, but as Viper, you were clearly Not the Mistress. So, why now?

Tom had better have a hell of an explanation.

And then seeing Polson again, all burnt and pathetic, made your stomach lurch. That man—you didn’t want to say that anyone deserved to burn, but Polson made you want to bend what you usually thought. The burns, it seemed, calmed him the fuck down and made him a lot nicer, but his nice was still not how you deserve to be spoken to. You didn’t like having a part of your old life resurface. Hearing your real name said aloud made your heart palpitate. Polson still didn’t respect you and called you a bitch first off, so why did you give him…? He didn’t deserve that. Polson’s a jerk. He shouldn’t…whatever.

You started typing a reply to Haz’s email. Told him that it’s taken care of. That the men killed off today would disappear legally. That you’ve got it under control.

Three fires connected to your former co-workers. Should you be concerned? You’d check the files on arsonists later, yeah, when all of this was over. See who’s out and about. You’ve already got one pattern, but maybe there’s another.

Hours ticked by. Fucking hours. At least there wouldn’t be much plant recording to listen to tonight. You advised a group of soldiers and their leading capo about their boundary crossing mission tonight (“Take the train; although the tickets mark your presence physically, fewer people are likely to be watching underground.”) and dug out the arsonist files. No one with a pattern had been released from prison in the past two years.

You jumped when your phone rang, but thank God; it was only Zendaya talking about a series of screeching noises coming from the sewers in the heights, and she just wanted to report it to you. She also made sure you logged Harrison’s latest injury that he hadn’t written on the last write-up (his ankles are going to be fucked up when he’s older). You thanked her.

When the clock hit 5:00, you stopped doing mob work and moved onto an Epiales article. You were ahead of your deadlines by three weeks, now, so you didn’t really concentrate too hard. You wrote half of another article and decided to check that fake-o’s twitter account. The past few days had been strangely apolitical.

Epiales (@Epiales): Pasărea în văzduh.

[image]

Epiales (@Epiales): L'Oiseau dans l'espace.

[image]

Epiales (@Epiales): Bird in Space.

[image]

Each image was a new angle of Bird in Space. You’d never heard of it. Apparently, it was a marble and bronze series of sculptures by Constatin Brâncuși, but only the bronze ones had been posted. But it was, like, parts of the bird instead of the whole thing, mostly looking like single feathers on stands. The captions had been the title in Romanian, French, and then English. The sculptures themselves were actually in the city, housed at the Met and MOMA.

What the fuck.

Epiales (@Epiales): A night in. The world out.

[image]

This picture was, strangely, a normal Instagram-type picture of someone’s (a liar’s) coffee table, with an open wine bottle, a glass, and—oh, how fucking clever—a copy of Catch Me If You Can propped up against four corks. Dumbass. You wrote a note to review the plot. Maybe this identity thief is also into forgery? Maybe that’s a stretch.

Four corks, one bottle. Why…why the fuck would that be featured? Are other bottles off-screen? Oh, there’s an update.

Epiales (@Epiales): Just heard from Central Hospital. James Polson has passed away. Tragic. Burns that severe can often turn deadly.

Your stomach plummeted.

That’s…that’s a little too personal for your tastes. A little too close. You locked your phone and tucked it between the cushion and the arm of the chair, and you brought your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them.

Your identity thief was the arsonist, wasn’t he?

Shit.

Fucking fuck, did that mean he knew your real name and who you were? He hadn’t known when he wrote that note for you and Tom to retrieve Isadora (you felt a pang in your chest at the thought of her), but, you guessed, you’re not perfect. You could have slipped somewhere, and he could have found you out. But when? You’d been scrupulous. If you fucked up somewhere, it had to be minor, something so small that you wouldn’t notice it. Who the fuck are you dealing with? God. Where’s your panic medicine? You felt a panic attack coming on.

It’s at the bottom of your bag, baby. Just dig through your shit—that’s right, under your laptop, your flash drive pocket, wallet—you’re doing so well, honey; that’s it—where’s the damn pill bo—

“Oh, thank fuck, Viper. You’re still here,” Tom said as the door slammed open into the wall, shaking the nearby frame, “I thought you might leave after I treated you like that.” C’mon, unscrew the cap slowly; nothing’s wrong. Nothing’s wrong. Is there a liquid besides liquor in here?

“But I have to say, you did all right. They licked it up, so the rest of it went well.”

Guess you’ll have to dry swallow them. Fuck, you could never get used to the scratching of the pill capsules as you choked them down your throat.

Tom raised an eyebrow when you threw back the pills. “Need anything?”

You swallowed again, but your throat was too dry. Focus on your breathing, honey. You can’t hyperventilate now.

“The fuck’s wrong with—?”

You gasped and cleared your throat. “Fuck all the way off, Holland.”

Tom’s face snapped into a grimace with hard, cold eyes, and he reached behind himself to lock the door. “You can’t talk to me like that.”

“You,” you said, tossing the bottle back into your bag, “You can’t fucking behave around me like you did down there. I don’t deserve that.”

“Then what do you deserve?” He crossed his arms and leant with most of his weight on the door.

“I don’t have to justify myself to you. I don’t have to explain anything,” you said, and you closed your laptop and slid it into its case, “I have the right to say no. I’m not your dog. But I’m still human, in case you haven’t fucking noticed.” You looped your portfolio closed and slid everything into your rucksack. “And I will not stand for the way you’ve been treating me.”

Tom scoffed. “I’ve been more than kind.”

“Not—not really.” You slung your rucksack over your shoulder. “You’re trying to manipulate me into something. The way you’ve been talking—all this, the inflections, the innuendo—I don’t want it if it’s not real.”

Tom moved away from the door as you approached it, his arms still crossed but his gaze on his shoes.

“You think I can’t spot a change in behaviour?” You think I don’t have a listening device in your cactus? “Think again, bucko. I’m not gonna tolerate maltreatment, jackassery, or anything I don’t deserve.” You gripped the doorknob and turned it, but you didn’t pull it forward. “I cordially invite you to braid your rectum, since you’ll need something vaguely aesthetically interesting to draw attention while you’ve got your head up your ass.”

You paused to swallow again, and Tom took the opportunity to ask quietly, “Are you gonna be in for work tomorrow?”

Rubbing your eye, you took a deep breath and a moment. “Yeah,” you said, “I’ll be in. Just don’t talk to me until after lunch.”

Tom nodded once, and you eased the door shut behind you.

***

You took a taxi home; you couldn’t bear the subway tonight. You just couldn’t. You leant your forehead against the cold glass and ignored the cabbie’s attempts at conversation, your eyes fluttering shut (the city lights still flashed through your eyelids).

At least you still had your job.

Well, it’s not like he could get rid of you at this point, anyway.

Whatever. It was all so fucking exhausting. If Tom were completely honest with you, that would take a load off of your shoulders. You don’t need near-gaslighting anywhere in your life right now; you needed someone in your corner. You supposed that was part of why you were exhausted: you didn’t have a local support system for your mental health. Sure, you had Dr. Prine on speed dial, but she was miles and miles away; Grace at the women’s centre needed more help than you did, and Ms. Pham didn’t seem to have feelings. Zendaya was cool, but you didn’t exactly know the nature of her relationship with Harrison and whether or not you could talk to her honestly without her relaying some of the information back to Haz or Tom.

Haz? Forget it.

Tom, though, he really screwed with your mind. You hated it. You could see the potential in him to be your main confidante, if only he would do the same with you (You were on a level of that already, but somehow, even though you had a lot of his dirt, it was like it wasn’t personal to him, like it held no weight. Dumbass). Tom must relax around Haz, right? They were friends before the mob, so there’s got to be some sense of genuine comradery about him, right?

He can’t be all bad. He’s got a dog, and pretty much everyone speaks to a dog in a high pitched voice.

You brought your knees to your chest, your heels on the edge of the torn leather, and you scrunched your eyes shut more tightly—the lights were getting brighter and harder to ignore; you dipped your head between your knees.

The cab driver gave a low whistle. “Holy motherfucking shit,” he said, and you dragged yourself up to look out—as he came to a stop.

No. No, it couldn’t—fucking fu—your apartment building was on fire. The flames blazed from a corner room on the third story and licking up towards yours—your own damn apartment. The worst of it was coming from the…the apartment right below yours. Harriet.

Paying the cabbie took way too fucking long, and you grabbed your bag and immediately dumped them on the sidewalk; where was Harriet? Moreover, where was your fucking cat?

You were turned away from the entrance. You manoeuvred your way through other tenets, calling for Trout, skinning your knees when your dropped to the pavement to scan the bushes for her, and by the time you found Harriet, your face was all red and blotchy, and the front of your shirt was soaked.

“Oh, my God. It’s good to see you safe,” said Harriet, gripping your shoulders and also crying, “I just got off the phone with my mom, and. And I don’t know what to do. The fire department said they’d be here soon, but it’s fucking five o’clock traffic, and—”

“Have you—” You hiccupped. “Have you seen a cat?”

Harriet shook her head. “Want me to help?”

Harriet looked so sincere and willing, with her wide eyes and strong voice, even with her hair already in its bonnet for the night. Harriet had always been kind when you’d worked with her; she’d always been—so why wasn’t she already in your corner? Why had you shuffled her off for the most part?

You looked her in the eyes and then back up at the burning building, your life flaking away in wallpaper ashes. Her life, too. “No,” you said, “You have enough on your mind right now. It looks like the fire started in your apartment, anyway, so there’s got to be a lot of damage you’re gonna have to deal with.”

Harriet nodded. “How’d you know it started in mine?”

“I—” You closed your mouth and frowned. “I didn’t. Did—did you leave the oven on, or?”

“I was downstairs in the laundry room facetiming Roscoe,” she said, “We started dating since you left, by the way. I was down there forever, but I can’t remember if I left anything on or any incense burning or anything.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, snapping your head in the direction of low movement, but it wasn’t Trout. “Have you heard about Polson yet?”

“Polson?” Harriet crossed her arms, her phone in her armpit. “No, why?”

“I’ll tell you later. You still have my number, right? I—you should find the landlord, talk to him about this. Ask him about renters’ insurance. I’ve got to—I’m gonna keep looking for my cat.”

“You do that,” she said, “I’ll check up on you in a few hours, all right?”

“Yeah,” you said, “Thank you.”

She walked off towards the admins, and you stood frozen for a minute, your eyes glazed over, until a spark flitted down to your arm. You flinched and swatted at it, your gaze falling to a smoking leaf at your feet.

You’re really going to do this, aren’t you?

Backtracking to your bag on the sidewalk, you found your found and found his contact with shaky thumbs. It rang once.

“Viper?” His background was silent.

“Tom?” You forced your jaw to stop quivering. He can’t hear your fear.

“It’s me,” he said, and his voice sounded more urgent. “What’s wrong? What do you need?”

Fuck it. “You. I need you,” you said, your eyes watering again, “Are you that far out in your commute? I need you to come to—to my apartment. It’s on fi—fire, Tom.”

You heard him slap the leather of his chauffer’s seat, a familiar gesture for him to pay attention. “Address, now.”

“I don’t want to inconvenience you if you’re that far out—”

“Address.”

You gave it to him, and he cursed with his mouth away from the speaker before barking it to his driver. “I’ll be there as soon as I possibly can, okay? I want you to stay there. Can you do that for me, V?”

You nodded, remembered he couldn’t see you, and said, “Yes. I’ve, uh. Thank you. Thanks, Tom.”

“Stay there. I won’t be long.”

“Okay. I’ve got to keep looking for my cat, so, um, I’ll be close. See you in a bit.”

“See you.”

You hung up and wiped your eyes. What’s done is done.

You were searching the bushes on your hands and knees when his car pulled up and parked behind the firefighters. When he tapped your back, you jolted and gave a shout, but you recovered slightly and shifted back to sit on your knees.

“Hey,” said Tom, crouching next to you, his tie still tight around his neck.

“Hey,” you said, “Her name is Trout, if you don’t remember, and she’s beautiful and stubborn, and I love her, and I can’t find her.”

“Is she in the building?”

“They wouldn’t let me inside to look.”

“If we don’t find her, someone else will. Does she have a collar?”

“Why would a cat whose entire world is a two-room apartment have a collar? No, I mean,” you said, rubbing your nose with the back of your hand, “She doesn’t.”

“Hey, that snark,” said Tom, “That’s how I know you’re gonna be okay. You haven’t lost it. We’re gonna find her before we leave.”

He let you cry in peace while the two of you searched, sirens and the water hoses too loud for further conversation, anyway. He couldn’t even hear your sob of relief when you discovered Trout licking drops from a hose faucet on the opposite side of the building, and you scooped her up and kissed her little forehead.

Tom scratched her neck before directing you towards his car, jogging back to your bag himself. But you stood outside his car, staring at your reflection in the window. Part of the building groaned and collapsed behind you, thousands of sparks flying upwards.

Your mind blanked.

That was your whole fucking life.

Crumbling to the ground.

Holy shit.

Where do you go from here?

You supposed the answer literally was the closest hotel, which was that stupid Holiday Inn, but it probably didn’t allow pets, so you’d have to go farther, which means a higher fare for the taxi, but now you need to conserve as much money as possibly to find a new place, and since Polson couldn’t even find one, then you were probably sunk, which meant—

“Were you waiting for me to open the door for you, darlin’?” Tom jogged to his car and opened the door to the backseat. “Go ahead and get in. It’s gonna be okay, I swear.”

Staring at him for a beat, you stiffly climbed into the back and released Trout once Tom had thrown in your bag and slammed the door shut behind him. Trout was freaked out by the sudden movement of the car, but once it became constant (or as near constant as it could get in New York traffic), she began exploring the car, starting with burrowing under the driver’s seat.

You wanted to touch him. If there were ever a time for it, it was now, when you were weak and gross and now possibly destitute. He’s seen you cry, now, so it’s like he’s seen too much of you. No one ever sees you cry, and you just wanted for once to have physical comfort from someone? You’ve never had someone there for that sort of thing, and damn it, you wanted Tom to hold you.

His suit’s wet and dirty, and he’s stuffed his tie into a pocket. He tapped his fingers on the leather seat between you as he scrunched his face up, lost in thought. Tom glanced at you, and his face softened, his eyes flickering from your blotchy face to your trembling hands. “All right, you’ve made deductions. Tell me what you think.”

“I don’t—” Deep breath. “I’m unsure I can talk right now.” What to say except Hold my hand, bitch?

“V, I swear, when you wake up tomorrow, you’re gonna be all numb. You’re gonna try to distance yourself from reality. I know you will. So, please,” said Tom for the second time that day, “Tell me what’s going on in that whirling brain of yours.”

You ran your tongue over your lower lip. “Is there any water in here? I haven’t—thanks,” you said, accepting the water bottle when Tom pulled it out from under his seat, “I haven’t ingested anything since this morning. I’m running on empty.”

“Bet you are. Take your time,” he said, leaning on his elbow against the window, “There’s no rush. We’ve got a bit of a drive.”

Nodding, you watched Trout loaf on the seat between the two of you. She let out a low meow.

You placed a hand on her back and scratched her lightly. “I really was angry at you this afternoon. How you spoke to me. How you made me wait.”

You paused to take a sip from the bottle, and Tom simply watched you, his gaze slipping to your neck when you swallowed. “But other stuff happened today that’ve put me on edge. I’m, uh, I’m not doing too hot right now.” Really, now? “I went to the hospital earlier, and you were texting me all those—strange things, which were already unnerving me. But then I ran into my old boss. From the law firm. He said some pretty awful things to me. Reprehensible, really.”

“I’m gonna fucking murder him,” said Tom, shifting in his seat.

You reached out a hand to his shoulder and pushed him back down, letting your touch linger (although there was still ash on his jacket). “He’s already dead.”

His lips parted. “What?”

“Polson was in the hospital for burns. Someone had burnt his house down. Told me it happened to some of my old co-workers, too.”

Licking his lips, Tom said, “Then your apartment building was arson. They knew about you.”

“I don’t think so,” you said, working through it yourself, “One of my co-workers lived beneath me. She’d recommended the building to me in the first place when I moved here, and although there’s not an official report yet, I’m pretty sure it started in her place. I’m not certain, though; I’m judging by the fact that her apartment was completely doused in flames and that fire climbs. It hadn’t engulfed mine entirely yet.”

Tom folded his arms and unbuckled; he turned to face you and crossed his leg over the other at the ankle. “You said Polson was dead.”

Sighing, you picked up Trout and put her in your lap. She did not want to settle. “I was doing research while I waited in your office. I ended up on that fake Epiales’s twitter account, and he announced it. Whoever the fake Epiales is is probably behind the arson, too. Targeting Polson’s employees, for some reason. I don’t know; I haven’t thought about it too hard yet. It was too personal for me, uh, to handle.”

“How do you know that?” Tom said, leaning in, “How do you know they’re the same? How do you even know that Epiales is fake, anyway?”

“Grammar. Syntax. The fact that the real Epiales wrote that it wasn’t him on his website?”

“You said that last time. What’s the real reason?”

You closed your eyes. “Please, Tom. Please trust me on this. I just know, okay? I can’t elaborate.”

“Will you eventually?”

You opened them. His face seemed relaxed, but his knuckles were pinched white. “I can’t promise you that. Please, trust me on this one thing without explanation.”

Tom glared at you, the city night lights not even reflecting in his eyes, and he dropped his arms, moving to tap his fingers on his thigh. He edged a hint closer to the window. “I can do that,” he said, smiling too widely.

He’s lying.

He’s so lying.

He’s still going to be constantly vigilant, waiting for you to let something slip. You cannot afford to let your guard down around him, even now that you’re beyond vulnerable: no house, no possessions, and no composure. You’ve got to be even more careful, now.

“Oh, and Viper?” Tom didn’t even look away from the window. “If they’re targeting people associated with your old workplace, don’t you think you had better cut all ties with them? Erase evidence you were connected?” He put your phone on the seat between you.

“I guess so.”

Deleted pictures. Emails. Harriet’s cheerful picture smiled up at you from her contact. She’d offered to check on you tonight.

You blocked her number.

There, you thought, setting your phone aside, That’s the end of my old life. Completely gone. Trout squirmed out of your grip, and she stumbled over to his lap and headbutted his lower chest. Now my life is nothing but Tom fucking Holland.

And there’s nowhere else to run to, only him.

Out of all the thoughts churning inside, one question bubbling to the surface, and another, you bottled-up.

“Where are we going?”

Were you safe?

***

suppressio veri: suppression of the truth.

***

taglist: @hollandroos @starksparker @pparkerwrites @qxeen-of-hearts @stealth-spiderr @presidentbttrflyfreak @parsleysbaby @madmadmilk @paradoxparker @bi-writes @astronomyparkers @bornsickbutilove @infamous-webhead @laurfangirl424 @softspideys @gryfinpuffs @plethoraofpuppies @laucontrerasv @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven @spiderboytotherescue @cassiopeiaskies

#tom holland #tom holland/reader #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #mob au #mob tom #Mob!Tom #mob!tom holland #viper au #dash it all

42 notes · View notes

migleefulmoments · 5 years

Note

I don't think anything of what the cc fandom posts anymore is "continued optimism". It looks like sheer terror that they're losing their game. Abby is in pure desperation mode, trying to rally the troops because she can see Darren's life is turning out to be nothing like she predicted. She can no longer validate that Darren NEEDS her, he keeps going against her. They're losing their grip. This isn't optimism, it's because everything Darren is doing equals Abby losing control of the narrative.

I agree with that they were in panic mode since the wedding but the 72 hours or so after Hollywood was announced they were euphoric that this was proof that Darren would be coming out soon. That has worn off already and they are back to their normal crap but for a few days, they were giddy. They were even speaking about a divorce in very near future.

I am going on record, I like AW and I like her a lot. She is team D, I really have no doubt and everything she is showing is that she is on his side and around to protect him often and frequently.

Yes she is giving us the illusion that she and PBB are besties that love to take intimate photos together but in reality she is showcasing exactly who M is, how much she lacks chemistry with D, some really not so pretty moments behind the scenes btwn D&M (there was some golden footage from European trip number 1 includng that video from the fireworks where E is all snuggled into her man and D&M look like virtual strangers), she flew to that island to babysit, and she announced the business family honeymoon.

Keep your friends close, your enemies closer.

AW is team d. She is a hard working, extremely successful men’s stylist with a pretty impressive client list at this point. And while she would absolutely have loyalty toward D, as she built her career styling him, she should not be this involved. A friend just reminded me that her other client, FW is currently promoting the J/udy Ga/rland movie. That is something AW usually would accompany her clients to, she follows D everywhere. yet no one questions why instead of being with FW she spent 2 days in a row with PBB.

I think she and d are working together and i believe she provides d with comfort. She babysits M, she works as a buffer, and unlike so many other enablers, she has D’s back. She is smart, she knows how to play M and her stans. On the surface she looks like she might almost be in love with M (seriously she has way more chemistry with her than D), but it is all a mirage, done for show. And if you look behind a lot of what she posts, it is harmful to m/iarren.

I know I have repeated the same think a lot over the past 48 hours, but I am so scared to allow myself to believe that change is ahead. And i got burned with ACS because I BELIEVED with my entire being this was the beginning of change and then everything escalated to full on disaster. But I still think no one got burned more than D&C because I am fairly certain they thought change was ahead as well.(Again the narcissism just has to rear it’s ugly head).

But I cannot stop myself from being optimistic and it is not just the RM partnership. It is the totality of the circumstances. It is watching the past 7 months since the sham mockery. It is seeing how they past 7 months were designed solely to promote her, not D, and done mainly using people only seen by fandom (her employees/friends, SK, PBB’s team). She got the massive exposure and the press from the “wedding” and some RCs as the “wife” but not much more and has now been relegated to mainly being promoted by the aforementioned. And that is only seen by fandom. Add, for the past several months, D himself has hardly tried. A random good pic here and there, but otherwise he orchestrated group honeymoons, barely touched her even when kissing, the jerk, bitch glare, the back turn. D has gained nothing until now. He certainly did not do this for a show he sold 3 years ago that is being written by, like them or not, Hwood novices. I hardly think he needed a wife to score the TB commercial. And SA doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who cares who d’s partner is, it was just a great collaboration.

And here we are, September, D is filming R/oyalties and we get the announcement that he is collaborating with RM again, not just as the star, but exec producer of a show that largely involves, based on early press, LGBT+ themes. And I have to HOPE.

The stage is set. D “married” her. He has been set up to take the blame as well as his team, thereby absolving RM. And it would make a lot of sense for RM to now step in and play the “hero.” We know the truth. D and C know the truth. But RM has the power to smooth what is going to be a difficult narrative to navigate. And it is a win for D&C and a win for RM. The m/iarrens are going to be devastated, as they are so invested in being right and D being straight (No we aren’t)(again the narcissism and her soul-crushing need to be right-is this about Darren or Abby?). And even if we just get a separation it will all be questioned. Because M is the only thing that makes him straight (not true, Darren identifying as straight is what makes him straight). Everything else points at the opposite. Add the press has not helped him at all on his path to come out, so it is going to be difficult to navigate. Having the “king of television” in his corner speaks volumes.

And then there is his horrific, abusive, incompetent team. And they haven’t just fucked with him, it seems with their no queer article they fucked with RM.(Huh? What?) I really hope they live to regret it.

Karma is a bitch.. May she rear her ugly head and finally give these people what they deserve. If i am sitting here a year from now and nothing has changed, I will be heartbroken for him. And wonder if maybe he did choose career. I just can’t believe that is who he is. I think he is a fighter and everything he has ever shown confirms that (DELUSION-ville) thought even if there was some confusion when the fraud in NOLA first occurred.

Here is hoping nonnie. Here is hoping.

I think a major decision like this was made together.

Read the book when it comes out in Oct 1. I thought c references RM. now I’m near positive.

And Hwood itself was initially announced in February. I immediately thought this was the project RM was cooking up (curious if FW and CF join the cast). But then there was silence for months,

And the first 8 months of 2019 were a complete shitshow that included that absolute fiasco in NOLA, excessive PBB promo, ads, ads, ads, TB, and SK. Not a single one of which were worthy of D’s time and attention. And to all onlookers, we were dazed and confused. utterly and completely and not sure what to think or believe.

But putting the pieces together prior to last nights announcement, logically and rationally looking at everything, it seems to me that finally D was tying up loose ends. While I do think D himself was dazed and confused in the first few weeks after that fraud occurred, it has been clear to me that starting with the work family group honeymoon (I think of all the arrows to m/iarren that have been shot, this might be my favorite) something shifted. How anyone can not see that that woman was being way over promoted is beyond me (Because “promotion isn’t a thing, Abby”). But clearly the 1st 8 months of 2019 were devoted to giving her everything and anything she ever wanted. Add in SK, the biggest enablers, that are being rewarded, first by raising an obnoxious amount of cash, and now with R/oyalties with D’s writers being his partners in the business. All of these things are massive pay out.

And last night we get this announcement from D.

notes-from-nowhere

do you want to know what I find very intriguing in all of this? The fact that all of that has been said in this topic pretty much sums up what we have said in the last 15 months if not more.

The latest news only uncovers the thread that keep all of “out theories” together. Of course something might be wrong, misplaced or misunderstood but the big picture is there for all to see (No, you don’t say?).

I do think it is too soon for me to fully embrace the idea that finally things are on the right path but well, please, excuse me for my optimism after a year and a half of struggle.

I’m going to root for D to have back his life and to finally be free to make his own choices. I hope this career advancement (or for better wording: this career extension) will give him what he wants and the power to just be his fully self and spread his wings.

I will watch what’s unfold in front of my eyes with interest from now on and a reneview wave of hope.

I do trust D is going to take the best decision ever among those available to him. My only fear is that those options may not be the one I hope for him but all I can do right now is wait and see. Hope for the best and expect the worst. Is the wiser thing I can do

ajw720

@notes-from-nowhere it’s impossible to not be skeptical. I didn’t see that “wedding” a 1000 miles away. (SMH) I care way too much (a me problem). I felt like my heart broke that day and I need to take care of me and be cautious. But I’m leaning this is good and I do think the public evidence to date supports this.

This is what euphoria looks like in cc fandom.

It’s interesting that she convinced herself this is Darren coming out when she thought he would come out during Hedwig based on this:

He and C were very relaxed, joking at interviews when G/lee was ending, both in France at the same time, the C/ol-Fur joke, the repeated telling of mandate. Everything seemed to point to a positive resolution. C even scheduled his book tour to be finished the day prior to d’s last performance. and then D was nominated for an emmy and everything seemed to shift and spun out of control and here we are, 4 years later.

She “rationally analyzes” the data and comes to the conclusion he’s coming out rather than understanding he’s just living his life.

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winryofresembool · 5 years

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Matilda’s story

Summary: Emma Rockbell-Elric’s (aka Ed&Winry’s daughter) girlfriend Matilda writes about different periods of her life, from accepting her sexuality to meeting and getting together with Emma.

A/N: Don’t worry guys, Edwin is on its way too! But I thought it would be fun to introduce you guys to one of my OC ships, aka Emilda :’) I imagine Matilda is writing this story to people who are in a lot of self doubt (about their sexuality etc), to make them feel better about their situation.

Words: 1950ish

Warnings: some adult themes mentioned, nothing explicit

...

Matilda’s POV:

This is going to be a very personal story, but maybe sharing it will help someone reading it.

When I was a kid, I always preferred stories that had cool girl protagonists instead of boys. Blegh. They were just annoying. My favorite bands were girl bands and my favorite movie stars were also women. It hadn’t even occurred to me that some girls could like /boy bands/. Well, I was a kid, so it didn’t matter what I liked and what not. Our tastes were still developing, after all.

When I was 11, a girl friend of mine kissed me on the cheek, probably as a thank you for something I had done. I couldn’t forget about it for a week, and I didn’t understand why. Now I know better: the little Matilda had her first crush. But that wasn’t an option to the 11-year-old me. When I told my mum I thought a friend of mine looked cute, in an innocent way, she told me to be quiet and made me play with a neighbor’s son. I didn’t like that kid at all, by the way. He was constantly pulling my hair and claimed I looked like a “lesbeean” in my pink clothes. I had no idea what that word meant. That was the way I had been raised.

I grew older and the friends around me started getting boyfriends. My mum was constantly asking if I had one too. I felt there was something wrong with me because I didn’t want one! After she had asked me that same old question many times enough, I finally gave up and asked a male friend of mine if we could go on a date. He said yes, and all of a sudden I had my first boyfriend. He was actually fairly nice, and we did like the same kind of movies, so picking a date spot was pretty easy. But it didn’t take him long to say he knew I didn’t like him that way. He was right, though, and so I experienced my first “break up”.

After a while, I started feeling the pressure of getting another boyfriend. The same thing happened as with the previous guy; we broke up due to the lack of chemistry.

Life went on, but the dating life started getting more challenging: I was already 18 and the people around me had a sex life. I had such a hard time imagining me doing it, and I even thought at one point I might have been an ace. Then I met a guy I genuinely liked and decided: “heck it. It’s not a big deal, so let’s just get it done.” And so we did. And it was absolutely awful. I blamed the fact that it was my first time, because of course I had heard that it’s supposed to hurt and all that stuff. But in reality, it was more than that. I felt extremely uncomfortable, awkward, vulnerable, even scared. I felt like I shouldn’t have been there, I just wanted to leave as soon as it started!

Well, it’s safe to say it didn’t happen with that guy again. He was surprisingly understanding when I tried to explain my feelings, though, and he too suggested I might be a-sexual. I just admitted: yeah, it’s possible. However, I had started doubting that because one time, when I went to get a casual cup of coffee with this same ex boyfriend of mine, I noticed that our heads were turning in the same direction when a good looking woman passed us. I had tried to deny it, but it was getting harder: I was attracted to women.

The time at the university was a new beginning to me. I met a lot of people. New, more open minded people. I finally learned to accept that women loving women really was a thing, and it opened a new world to me. I let myself have crushes, and sometimes when things got “wild”, I might even have kissed another woman. My mother’s conservative voice was nagging in my head regularly, but I learned to tune it down.

But there was one specific encounter that I will never forget. In my first architecture class I saw a pretty, blonde haired and blue eyed girl. She seemed shy at first, dressed in black, avoiding eye contact, trying to make her already small frame even smaller. But then the professor started asking questions and suddenly she woke up, a fire in her eyes when she started debating with the professor on some topic that was so advanced I didn’t even understand it. And I had always thought I knew plenty about architecture. The debate had to end at some point so the professor could go back to her regularly scheduled teaching, but the girl stayed in the classroom afterwards and continued the conversation. I was both impressed and intimidated by her.

It turned out, that was definitely not the last time I saw that girl. Not too long after, I was put into the same group with her when we were doing group assignments and – we got into a fight. As I had suspected from the moment I saw her, our ideas of architecture in general were so different that we had a very hard time finding a common ground. She thought alchemy could make everything 100% easier, I claimed it was hocus pocus. Our fight got so bad that at the end of one group session she told me she would talk to the professor the next day and ask to join another group.

She never got that far though; that same night my cat went missing and I was searching for him from the campus area for a long while. Finally, I found him in a tree, but he didn’t want to come down. I tried treats, I tried toys, but no luck. I was too afraid to climb after him because I was sure the branches would have broken under my weight. Suddenly, the blonde girl appeared and asked me what was wrong. I showed her the cat on the tree and without hesitation she started climbing like a ninja. At that point I was wondering if there was anything that girl couldn’t do. She caught my kitty and brought him down to me, acting like a whole different person compared to a couple of hours earlier. I asked why she was like that, and she simply said “what happens in the classroom, stays in the classroom”.

I decided to invite this weird girl for a cup of tea as a thank you for saving my cat and because I felt there was so much about her I didn’t know yet. She had made me so curious. We had a lot of fun talking about anything non school related, and she didn’t leave for several hours. I introduced her to my cats, and she showed pics of her dog. When she was finally leaving, she tugged my hair a bit, looked straight into my eyes, and said “you’re not so bad, after all, Kitty.” Someone else might have gotten offended, but I saw her expression, and knew it was her way of saying “we are friends now, like it or not.” Oh, and she didn’t change her group after all.

It would be nice to say my relationship issues were over once I started uni, but that’s not true. I wasn’t really seeing anyone for a long while, while my friendship with Emma deepened, starting some rumors among the people around me. Eventually, my mum heard I may be seeing a girl from the uni and she called me home for a talk. I took Emma with me, or rather, she insisted she come. With her support, I told her that yes, I may be into girls, but no, we are not dating. My mother wasn’t happy with that announcement, telling me I was not welcome back home unless I “changed my mind about women”. Emma dragged me into her car, but she herself went back to tell a couple of well-chosen words to my mother, and when she came back, she was having a devilish smile on her face. She claimed that habit was simply in her Elric blood, which I soon realized was true when she introduced me to her family. They were incredible people, so different from my family. Getting distance between me and my parents was not an easy decision, but it’s one I now understand was necessary for my happiness.

A couple of years later, another incident happened: I was on the swimming team and one day decided to train with Emma, who, while not as fast as I am, made up for it with her stamina. Unfortunately, some guys from the men’s team were at the hall at the same time with us, and one of them started hitting on me. I had a hard time getting rid of him because he kept insisting I should go out with him, even blocking my way at one point. It started getting quite scary, so Emma, bless her, came to my rescue. She wrapped her arm around my waist and planted a kiss on my cheek, claiming I was her girlfriend, and if the guys wanted to have something to do with me, she’d be ready to fight. I have no doubt she would. I have heard stories of her dad’s past…

Anyway, one of the assholes said he wanted more proof so Emma didn’t hesitate. She kissed me straight on the mouth and I kept seeing stars for a minute. Once the stars were gone, I noticed we were already in the shower room (apparently Emma had dragged me there) and she apologized for acting like that. I think my answer was just incoherent blabbering, because honestly, I was just wishing she would do it again. Because in that moment I knew I was in love with Emma Rockbell-Elric.

A few years went by and I was in a constant state of suffering because I could not tell her how I felt. I had seen Emma flirting with a lot of other people, both girls and boys, so I was positive the kiss had not meant anything, and I couldn’t risk our friendship. But eventually, we decided to go on a trip, just the two of us, and little did we know that trip would change everything. It all started innocently. We were supposed to just go down to the hotel bar for a couple of drinks and maybe dance a bit, but… something turned off in my brain. Before I knew it, we were kissing, and back in our room, and… it was the best evening of my life. But then… then she broke my heart.

Now, Emma, if you’re reading this, don’t worry. I know why you did what you did, and you’ve been forgiven a long time ago. Maybe I just added that here to remind people that relationships require work, because no one is perfect, but we did solve our issues, and everything’s better than fine now. We are now living together and having our own kids, aka our pets. Thanks to my girlfriend, I’ve learned to accept myself the way I am, and I have also found myself a new supportive family who really cares about me, and is there for me when I need it. So, my message to people in need of help is: it will get better. Just be who you are, because you’re amazing. That’s what Emma tells me.

Ps. to my dog loving alchemy freak girlfriend: I love you.

#emilda #my fics #emma rockbell elric #oc matilda #fullmetal alchemist #my oc:s #edwin #sorta

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