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ironmanfridgemagnet · 2 years

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Sitting On The Shelf - Marcus White x Reader

Part 9 - All Nighter

SOTS Masterlist

"Attention, shoppers, the store has been closed for 20 minutes. Many of us would like to leave. So, if you're still in the store, you're being a dick. Don't be a dick." Garret emphasised, looking directly at the man stood opposite Jonah. He'd been staring at the trash cans for over an hour now, still trying to pick one - was it really that hard?

"If I don't get home and study for my midterm, I'm totally screwed." Amy groaned from the next to you; she'd been working so hard for this exam, and you didn't want it to be thrown away because of one indecisive customer. "Oh, hey, you look so cute."

"Thank you!" You, Garret and Cheyenne replied in union, each looking at the other confused. However, upon seeing Cheyenne's outfit, you realised who Amy had been directing her words at.

"Awe, Chey, you look so good!" You gushed, grabbing her by her forearms and squeezing them gently.

"It's my senior dance recital tonight." Cheyenne announced, gesturing down to her outfit and spinning slowly where she stood.

"What? Why didn't you tell us?" Amy cried, almost offended that Cheyenne hadn't told anyone at work about her recital - you'd have loved to go.

"Well, I can't perform because of, you know, this." Cheyenne rubbed her growing belly gently, hoping to keep the baby at bay as she blamed it for not being able to dance at her recital. "But I'm gonna go and cheer on the other girls."

"Yeah, if this bozo ever leaves the store." You complained, throwing your head back in exasperation; today had been long enough and this dude staring at the trash cans wasn't helping. It wasn't like you had any plans once you got out of here, you just wanted to go home like everyone else.

"It's all right. I got it." Garret said before turning on some loud, obnoxious music, blasting it over the store speakers. Unfortunately, the bin man seemed unphased.

Suddenly, Mateo appeared behind Jonah, a mop in one hand and a bucket in the other. Swiping the mop under the mans feet, he slowly pushed him closer and closer towards the door. For a brief moment, he stooped at the discount movie bin, with baited breath, you hoped that he would just leave the store. With a final push from Mateo, the man was officially outside the store.

"Have a heavenly night." Mateo spat, turning and walking back into the store. Walking over towards the customer service counter, he was met with cheers and applause, everyone thankful that someone was finally able to get the man out of the store, so that you could go home.

"Yeah! Oh, great job, Mateo. Great job." Garret complimented, everyone still clapping for Mateo.

"Hey, we're all staying late to do more work. I'm so sorry. I just found out about it. I feel terrible about this. Whoo-hoo!" Glenn clapped and cheered, hoping his happy demeanour would lesson the blow of the bad news. Of course corporate were going to keep you behind on a Friday evening. Hopefully this evening would be over sooner rather than later.

Pushing yourself off of the customer service counter, you followed after Glenn, hoping to get this done with quickly.

"Ooh, corporate messed up. Those are the same signs we just took down." Garret said, watching as you and Glenn pulled out signs from the package you had just received.

"I don't think so." Glenn said, pulling out a letter hidden deep within the package to try and confirm Garret was wrong. "Nope, they say the old signs were this pale, outdated colour called "Glossy Dolphin." The new ones are a bold, exciting colour called "Glossy Dolphin B.""

Ugh. If you'd known that these signs were pretty much the same, you'd have left the store when trash man had. Letting out a deep sigh, you picked up a grocery sign, allowing Amy to grab the other end and help you carry it.

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"This is kind of fun, right? Being up high like this? Reminds me of my indoor rock-climbing days." Jonah reminisced, looking off longingly across the isles from his place at the top of the ladder.

"I just need to get home to study for my midterm." Amy spat back, fastening the sign to the wires that hung down from the ceiling.

"We can go any minute Ames," You shouted across to her from Jonah's others side, fastening your own sign to the wires that hung just out of your reach. "I just need to fasten this last bit."

"Midterm. That takes me back." Jonah continued to reminisce his college days, having already finished hanging up his sign, but not coming to give either of you guys some help. "Cramming for tests or trying to. Half the time, I'd just end up getting drunk in someone's dorm room and spend the whole night having 'deep' conversations."

Rolling your eyes at Jonah, you climbed down your ladder, walking up the isle and down to Amy's, holding on to the bottom of her ladder absentmindedly.

"That's so fun. Did I ever tell you the story about that one time when I went to college as a grown-up and I had to go work and I had all these responsibilities? It's a laugh riot." Amy climbed down from her ladder, the two of you leaving Jonah to his thoughts to find more signs to hang.

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Having left Amy to go and grab some stuff you needed back home, you made your own way back to the front of the store, hoping to find Glenn and some more signs.

"Ooh, cool move, cowboy." You heard Garret say as you approached the group surrounding Glenn, finding them stood in awe as he flipped a drill around his hand.

"What, this? I was born with a drill in my hand. My family used to own a hardware store Sturgis and Sons?: You noticed Cheyenne looked down anxiously as Glenn's words, gently rubbing her tummy and hoping her baby wouldn't come out with a drill in its hand. Though you knew Glenn didn't mean it literally, the way it flew over Cheyenne's head made you laugh to yourself.

"Yeah, for 59 years, the name "Sturgis" was synonymous with tools. Well, until Cloud 9 moved in up the street, and then a month later, we lost everything. Hey, has anyone seen the laser level?" Glenn asked, looking around to try and find whatever he was looking for.

"Doesn't it make you a little angry to be working for them?" Jonah asked, arms folded tightly across his chest. Though you'd never have brought it up, you couldn't help but agree - knowing that Glenn's family had been run out of business by cloud 9 hit a sour spot.

"Oh, I don't waste my time with anger." Glenn proudly stated, slamming his hammer down and hitting his thumb hard. "Oh. Look at that. I hit my finger."

"That looked pretty serious." You commented, looking intently at Glenn's thumb, trying to check that it wasn't broken or bleeding.

"Did the lights go out?" Cheyenne asked, everyone's attention turning to the ceiling of the dimly lit store.

"Glenn, what's up with the lights? I'm kind of in a rush." Amy asked, appearing from behind the group of you, startling you as she spoke.

"Actually, the lights are controlled by corporate." Glenn explained, holding his thumb tightly in his other hand. "Every night at a certain time, the lights dim, and the doors automatically lock."

"All the doors lock?" Amy asked, her face paling at the thought of being trapped in here all night. At Glenn's confirmation, she ran towards the doors, jumping and waving in front of them in hopes they'd open. "Come on, come on, come on, come on. Oh, no, no, no, no. Are you kidding me? No!"

Tonight was going to be a long night.

Pulling out your phone, you opened up Marcus's contact, typing out an apology.

y/n ;) | Hey Marcus! Can you take a rain check on catching up? Corporate have got us locked up in here :'(

Marcus :p | Of course I can :) Have a good night trapped in there lol. be safe.

A small smile formed on your face at his words - he'd barely been back home and you were already ruining things, yet he remained so sweet about it. Marcus was turning out to be a very good friend.

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"Okay, the bad news is we're locked in. Dina and I will go to my office and look for the lock override code. In the meantime, you guys keep putting up signs. You can make a game out of it. You can call the game "Signage Fever."" Glenn suggested, running away to the back of the store, Dina in tow, hoping to not have to deal with any backlash.

"I am not playing that game." Garret scoffed, pushing away from the group in front of the store doors, hoping to find somewhere he could be alone and relax.

"Guys." Jonah, spoke up, his lips curling up into a sly smile.

"No." You and Amy snapped back, shutting down Jonah's words before he could get them out. You knew whatever was going to come out of his mouth could only make the situation worse.

"You don't even know what I was gonna say." Jonah defended, his hands coming up to the sides of his face.

"I know that every time you start a sentence with, "Guys," you end it with, "Let's make the best of this," or, "Let's have fun. " You never say, "Guys, this really sucks."" Amy confidently concluded, her hands coming to rest on her hips as she raised a judgemental eyebrow at Jonah.

"Guys, we have the entire store to ourselves. We could do whatever we want. If we decide that this is gonna be fun, then this is gonna be fun. So, if you're with me, I will see all of you in the fun zone." Pointing fingers guns at everyone, Jonah retreated into the depths of the store, hoping he'd find something fun to do within the store.

""Fun zone"?" Amy asked incredulously, rolling her eyes at Jonah antics and looking back outside to the parking lot.

"Sometimes I just really want to slap him." Mateo let out a deep huff, rolling his eyes as he left the front of the store. As much as you loved Jonah, it was hard not to agree; his cocky - better than- attitude could sometimes really annoy you.

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Having set up camp in patio after leaving the front doors, others had began to join you. Eventually, a group of you formed, all making small talk as you tried to stay awake.

"Part of me's glad I missed the recital." Cheyenne confessed. "I've been looking forward to my senior dance since sixth grade, and it would've sucked to just sit there and watch."

"I'm not saying that I regret this baby. I just wish that I'd had it later or sooner, like a lot of my friends. You know what I mean?" Cheyenne looked around the group for consolidation, instead met with several confused, yet nodding, faces.

"Uh, I do, yes, and I think each and every one of us has regrets. I'll go next. I regret doing Semester at Sea instead of just picking one country and really absorbing the culture." Jonah admitted, once again finding a away to show off his college education - even though it was only brief. "Who else?"

"I regret not standing up for myself more; especially to my mom. I wish I'd realised it was okay to think she was an ass even though she was my mom." Clearing your throat, you sunk back into your chair, allowing Amy to shuffle her chair closer to your own and wrap an arm around your shoulders.

"Well, my only regrets are the times I over thought things and didn't go for what I wanted." Dina revealed, looking suggestively over at Jonah, who seemed to shrink into his chair under her gaze. "I mean, why fight nature? We're all just animals, right?"

"I regret not rescuing my twin brother from that wave." Mateo admitted, staring into the floor, though he seemed far away in his own thoughts.

"So there you have it, guys. We are learning lots about each other. What about you, Ames? What are you, what's your biggest regret?" Jonah asked, leaning forward in his seat as he addressed the woman who was still holding her arm around you.

"I guess I regret not going to college when I was younger so that I could have lots of stories to annoy my co-workers with." Amy snarked, the group of you laughing as she poked fun at Jonah.

"Hey, well, at least it's quiet. We don't have to listen to that stupid music they make us play." Garret whined, thankful that on top of all the bad events of today, we didn't have to listen to the questionable music the store played.

"I actually kind of like the music. It makes me feel like I'm on hold all day." Glenn said from where he stood at the bench, still fiddling about with the signs that hadn't yet been hung.

"Glenn, you like everything about this store." You groaned, once hopeful that he was finally going to admit to not liking something here.

"That's weird, man." Garret confirmed, shaking his head at the older man across from him.

"Well I don't like everything about this store. Truth be told, the backsplash in the employee's bathroom, it's like B-minus at best." Glenn admitted, though he seemed unsure of himself at giving it anything below an A.

"That's the only thing that bugs you about this company?" Garret probed, determined to get an answer out of Glenn that was negative; even if only a little.

"Well, I guess the aisles are a bit too close together and sometimes the folks in charge don't treat me like I'm a human being with feelings." Glenn sheepishly revealed, looking anxiously between the floor and the group in front of him.

"Yeah, that's a bummer." Cheyenne added, pulling a confused face at how that was Glenn's only criticism of the store.

"Sturgis and Sons was a community. Customers would be like, "Hi, Glenn. Do you have a screw in such-and-such a size?" And I'd say, "I think so. Maybe ask my dad." It was paradise." Glenn sighed, looking longing in the distance as he thought of better times. As Mateo tried to interrupt with another of his regrets, Glenn quickly cut him off. "And then this chain moves in. I mean, where do they get off? Keep us late in locked in the dark, you know, all in service of the bottom line."

"Yeah. Go." Garret cheered, a wide grin curling onto his face as he realised what was about to happen.

"I hate this tie. I hate this shirt!" Glenn shouted, ripping the tie and shirt from his body in a fit of rage.

"Isn't that his shirt?" You whispered to Amy, only getting an attempt at hiding her laughter in response. What had you guys unleashed?

"Oh, you're going a little too far now." Garret criticised, now worried at what he had done to Glenn - in all the years he had worked here, he'd never seen Glenn even a fraction this angry.

"And I hate Regional Manager Dicky Larson, but you know what I hate most of all? I hate Cloud 9." Glenn announced, the realisation of his words rippling across his face.

"I hate Cloud 9." Glenn whispered to himself before yelling it loud yet again, running away from the group to cause chaos within the store.

"What just happened?" Amy choked out, in shock at what she had just witnessed.

"I think we broke Glenn." Garret muttered, everyone shocked by the new version of Glenn that had just been unleashed at the slightest of provoking.

"It's a party, mother-fathers, sponsored by Sturgis and Sons." Glenn shouted, peeking his head out of the end of the alcohol isle, several bottles help in his hands, red sharpie scrawled across them.

This night just got a lot more interesting.

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"Okay. Never have I ever stocked ice cream." Cheyenne offered, everyone taking a sip of their drink. You took a large gulp, consuming more alcohol then you already had, hoping it would put you to sleep, or allow you to enjoy your time here tonight.

"Okay, but You know, like that, but, like, a little more edgy. You know, like, not this, but, "Never have I ever eaten human flesh."" Jonah offered, Mateo taking a sip after a brief pause. "Oh, no, no, no. You drink if you have done it."

"Mm-hmm. I understand." Mateo nodded, staying confident despite his admission.

"I have another one. Never have I ever hooked up in the store. "Everyone around you took a sip of their drink. Well, all except Dina. "Really?"

"You remember last week when Jerusha came by to talk about the mortgage?" Glenn giggled to himself, his cheeks becoming flushed as he spilled his and Jerusha's dark secret. "In my office."

A chorus of gasps filled the patio section, everyone shocked Glenn had even entertained the idea, let alone done it and admitted to it.

"Wait, wait. There's more. We had sex." Glenn clarified, though everyone had already known what he had meant.

"Bo and I, seven months ago." Cheyenne admitted, rubbing her stomach gently as she spoke. While you didn't quite want to hear the details of her and Bo's sex life, it was almost sweet to know it was in the store. Almost. Though you were sure Glenn would be thrilled by the idea of a 'cloud 9' baby.

"Oh, my God, the Photo Lab is a great spot." Mateo groaned, excited to be talking about the best hook up spot in the store. It was well known amongst staff it was the best place to hook up - it had a lock, was dark and romantic, and the fact you could be caught really built the tension.

At a round of approval, Jonah asked. "What? Really?"

"Yeah, it's dark. It's private. Sometimes you get to see people's naked photos." Mateo laughed to himself, dwelling on just how many of those photos he'd found in there. Unfortunately, you'd been privy to some of his discoveries, and seen far more of some of your co-workers than you'd ever wanted to.

"When I first started here, we just called the lab the "bang room" because, you know the banging." Amy laughed at the title, the alcohol beginning to get to her a little. "I banged in there."

"Okay." You and Garret cheered Amy on, proud of her for admitting something to the group, and showing that she was more than the strict floor manager many knew her to be.

"So the Photo Lab, huh? Cool. Cool, cool." Dina noted, a light blush seeming to cover her cheeks. Hmm, how strange.

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After rounds upon rounds of shots and drinking games, the night had become hazy, Garrets music blasted over the store speakers, drowning your own thoughts from you mind. Zoning back into the scene before you, you held onto Mateo's shoulder as you stepped into the dress he had put together for you, remembering vaguely that you had agreed to be in his fashion show.

Shuffling the dress over your clothes, you let Mateo straighten you up, he placed a large, floppy straw head on your head, completing the look. Taking your hand he pulled you to the makeshift runway, waiting for your que.

"Here we've got newcomers Mateo and Y/n sizzling in a fashion-forward take on Cloud 9 nightwear. Work it, Girls!" Amy cheered as you strutted down the runway, Jonah filming the whole show as you walked. Posing at the end of the runway, your turned and walked back up, crashing down onto a bean bag next to Garret as you slipped off the heels Mateo had had you wear.

"And now we have Glenn, rocking the "Don't Let Him Near Your Children Collection." Oh, shake what the good Lord gave you, Glenn." Glenn danced around in his bear onesie, walking up and back down the runway in his cute outfit.

" And here's Myrtle, carrying a bicycle tire. She doesn't seem to know what we're doing here, but she is owning it. Thank you, Myrtle." Amy shouted down the microphone, cheering as Myrtle flaunted her bicycle tire on the runway.

"All right everybody," Amy shouted down the microphone, coming out from behind the counter. "Now, its time for Cheyenne's dance recital."

Sitting up in your beanbag so you could see better, you sat and waited patiently for Cheyenne’s dance to begin, Jonah and Amy crashing down onto beanbags either side of you. You let out a gasp of air as the music started playing, the first few notes of Cyndi Lauper's "True Colours" tugging at your heart strings.

"Oh, I love this song." You whined, clutching your chest. Snatching the camcorder from Jonah's hands, you turned it on, setting it to record and placing it in your lap as you watched Cheyenne in awe. You wanted to record this, for both you and her, knowing it would be a sweet moment to look back on, and so you'd remember at least one thing about tonight.

"This kinda tight." Garret whispered, causing you to look at him. Looking slightly to the right of him, you watched as Jonah got up from his seat, a notification pulling him away from the performance.

Not dwelling on it - not being able to anyway, due to the alcohol clouding your brain - you turned back to Cheyenne's performance, sighing in admiration. You wish you had to ability to dance like that - to twirl and twist your body in such a beautiful and elegant way - and to perform in front of a crowd with such confidence? it was all something you could only dream of.

"I'm so proud of her." Amy whispered as the song came to a close, you and Garret immediately agreeing, both still in awe of the incredible performance. However, no sooner after you had spoken, the music changed to the signature beat of "Anaconda" by Nicki Minaj.

"Ooh, I did not see that coming." Garret muttered, unable to take his eyes off of the sudden change in tone of the performance in front of you all. “But I should have.”

Not expecting such a change, you let out a loud laugh, clapping your hands in excitement. God, you wished you had been able to see everyone else's reaction at the actual recital, because this was incredible.

As Cheyenne's dance came to a close, you clapped as loud and as fast as you could, hoping to let her know that you thought it was amazing. Though your eyes couldn't help but wonder to the still-empty seat of Jonah, wondering where on earth he could be now.

Ready to walk away from the group as others were already doing, you placed the camera and your phone down gently in your chair, wanting to keep it safe so you could take it home with you in the morning. Telling Garret you'd be back in a moment, you set off on your quest for the brunette.

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After searching through various isles, you headed to look for him in the breakroom, and then the bathrooms, though when passing the photo lab, you heard a brief commotion come from within. Deciding it would be in your best interest to listen into the conversation, you heard Dina's unusually disheartened voice come from the other side of the door.

"But I do understand." Dina huffed, sounding upset at whatever conversation had just happened on the other side of the door.

"Oh, great. I mean, you know, great." There he was.

"Okay, um I'll see you out there." Jonah announced, pushing open the door of the photo lab, and in turn pushing you. Stumbling over your own feet, Jonah caught you, pulling you up straight as he asked why you were stood outside the photo lab.

"I was looking for you J. I was worried you'd gone and ran out on us." Flashing Jonah a sweet smile, you hoped he'd excuse your snooping on his private conversation. However, before he could respond, the handle of the photo lab jiggled, Jonah pulling you into the shadows as Dina emerged from behind the door, her shoulders sunken in defeat.

Opening your mouth to ask if they'd been 'banging in the bang room,' Jonah quickly slapped his hand over it, using his other hand to place a single finger over his lips, telling you to keep quiet.

Once Dina was far enough away from the two of you, Jonah moved his hand away, you staring silently at him.

"Always that kinky Simms?" You muttered breathlessly, your heart pounding in your chest. If it weren't for the alcohol, you'd never have made a comment such as that - though you'd expect it out of someone like Garret. Maybe you were spending too much time with him.

Jonah raised his eyebrows at you, wondering where your newfound confidence had come from: while you'd always been outgoing, he'd never heard you come out with something so straight forward before, your humour was usually vague and hidden beneath layers of sarcasm.

Suddenly the both of you became very aware of how little space there was between the two of you, Jonah's chest pressed firmly into your own as you had hidden in a gap between the door and a stack of boxes. Your hands rested gently on his chest and one of his hands rested comfortably on your waist, neither moving and neither sure if they wanted to stay.

"Are you gonna..." You started speaking, looking between the two of you, Jonah's hand still firmly on your waist.

However, unlike the first time you'd ended up this close, the spiel of apologies never came, instead Jonah took in a sharp breath; you could feel his heart beating, so much so that it was nearly out of his chest.

"Jonah?" You asked, rapidly beginning to sober up as you became nervous that you'd gone too far with your teasing comment only moments ago. The moments of shared silence after you spoke had you becoming more sober each second, worried that in your intoxicated confidence you'd said too much.

"Oh, fuck it." Jonah muttered, the words only being shared between the two of you. Without having the chance to ask if he was okay, if you'd said too much, or not enough, you were silenced.

Jonah lips crashed onto your own, sucking the air out of your lungs, leaving you entirely breathless. Well, you hadn't expected that. As he began to pull away from your lack of response, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him back down and into you. Though you weren't sure how you felt about kissing Jonah, the pressure of his lips on yours drove any concern or doubt away from your mind. His lips were surprisingly soft and he tasted like strawberries and sambuca: you imagined you tasted similar - like of the sambuca you'd consumed and the peach and mango lip-gloss you wore religiously.

Jonah's free hand moved up to caress your cheek, his other hand snaking around to rest on your lower back, pulling you even more into him. Moving one hand up to his hair, you kept the other on his shirt, keeping him close to you. You never imagined Jonah to be such a smooth kisser - you imagined him to be awkward and unsure, not knowing where to put his hands or how to actually kiss. However, he was the complete opposite from that: confident and smooth, pulling you into him so he could drink up as much of you as possible.

Finally breaking away from each other, your chests heaved, feeling the others fall and rise due to the close proximity in which you had remained. Staring up at Jonah you admired his pink, swollen lips, how a deep flush had covered his face and his hair was fluffed up and tousled. The boy in front of you now was more like the Jonah you knew, his head hanging low, slightly scared and slightly embarrassed as to what would happen when he finally looked up. Would you hate him? Would you be disgusted? Would you just act as though it had never happened?

Placing two fingers under his chin, you lifted his face so that he would look at you. Leaning in, you placed a light and delicate kiss on the corner of his mouth; pulling back you were met with a loving smile. Jonah grabbed your hand in his, pulling you out of the shadows behind the photo lab, and in the direction of patio, hoping that the both of you would get some rest before the morning came.

Kissing Jonah had felt good; it was warm and inviting and something that you hadn't had the pleasure of feeling in a while. So why now did it feel so wrong? Only moments after leaving the shadowed corridor down to the photo lab you'd felt the sharp pang of guilt, like it wasn't meant to be Jonah who you'd shared such a moment with.

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"Hey, what you doing up there? Looks like you might get hurt." Jonah shouted up to Amy who, you'd noticed on your way back to patio, was walking on a moving checkout.

"Yeah Ames, that doesn't look all that safe." You added, knowing that if the words came from you , she'd be less likely to chastise them.

"You don't get to tell me what to do." Amy asserted, waving her pointer finger between you and Jonah.

"I- We - weren't telling you what to do." Suddenly nervous as Amy glared down at the pair of you from her position on top of the checkout, Jonah stumbled over his words.

"You are not my boss. I am your boss, college boy." Amy snapped, continuing to try and dance along the checkout as she spoke, her steps becoming less balanced as she went on.

"I think he just thought maybe it's a little dangerous being..." You tried to explain, hoping your defence for Jonah would lessen the harsh tone of Amy's words; she was always an honest drunk, though in her intoxicated state, her thoughts tended to not translate very well into words.

"By the way, I got into college too. A good one when I was 18." Amy boasted, scoffing at the surprised look that had formed on Jonah's face." I just got pregnant. And then I got married, and then Adam had dreams, and somebody had to pay the bills, so here I am, spinning around on this endless-"

Amy's spiel was cut abruptly short as she turned to the side of the checkout, leaning over the display and puking the contents of her stomach out over it.

"For what it's worth, that was shaping up to be a really nice metaphor." Jonah commented, though it wasn't the best time. You let go of his hand, moving closer towards the checkout to help Amy down.

Placing one arm around her waist, you gave her a concerned look, though you didn't dwell on it, instead choosing to guide her over to the bathrooms, Jonah following behind you.

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"Come on. It's good for you." Jonah bribed, waving a white, plastic cup of water in Amy's face.

"Glenn is right. This backsplash is unremarkable." He sighed, settling down on the floor next to you and resting his head lightly on top of your own.

"I don't regret getting married." Amy rushed out, both you and Jonah snapping your heads up to look at her.

"I never said that you regretted getting..." Jonah defended, his face flushing at the accusation - he'd never comment on something like that, it just wasn't his place.

"Yeah, but you were thinking it." Amy accused, a silence falling over the bathroom.

"I think you should. Adam's an ass." You let out a low laugh, Amy dipping her fingers into her cup and splashing the water in your face.

"Yeah, I wonder sometimes what it would've been like if I had made other choices, but you want to know what I really regret?" Amy rhetorically asked, looking longingly between you and Jonah; the two of you looked comfortable despite being on the cold bathroom floor, and seemed sober enough to remember anything she'd say.

"That last shot of Sambuca?" Jonah teased, though even the mention of the drink had your stomach churning after you'd consumed so much in the past few hours. Grabbing the bin that had sat at Amy's side, you threw it down next to you, hunching over it as you heaved your stomach dry.

"Forget it. You guys are the last people I should be telling this to." Amy huffed, getting onto her knees and shuffling closer to you to hold your hair out of your eyes and mouth, not wanting the sick to get everywhere.

"...this is a weird night." Jonah concluded, rubbing soothing circles on your back as you continued to spit and splutter over the trash can.

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"Ooh. Oh, it is good to be outside. I'm gonna go home and play some video games." Garret stretched his arms high above his head, waving goodbye to you all before heading for his car.

"I can't believe I have to take a midterm on zero sleep and totally hung over." Amy whined, letting out a deep breath as she walked away from the store.

"College." She groaned looking over at Jonah, finally empathizing with the experience he had mentioned hours earlier.

"Good luck Ames." You smiled brightly at her, pulling her into a tight hug, she whispered in your ear that she'd need it. Pulling away, she waved goodbye to the two of you, headed towards her car to leave and hopefully make her midterm on time.

"So..." Jonah began, tucking his hands awkwardly into his pockets, looking anywhere but at you. His demeanour now was much different from the man that had taken your breath away, his usual shy and blushing self returning.

"We should probably talk about last night." You stated, breaking the tension that had tried to settle over the two of you with the words you had both dreaded speaking. Silent agreement came from Jonah, neither of you sure of where to go from here, but both knowing things wouldn't be the same either.

"You could come over to my place? We can talk over breakfast?" Jonah offered, the blush still covering his face as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"As long as we can take a nap first," You rebuttald, a yawn escaping you at the mention of sleep. "I'm exhausted."

"Yeah, of course we can, peach." Jonah wrapped his arm around your shoulders, guiding you out of the cloud 9 parking lot and beginning the short walk back to his apartment complex.

"Peach, huh?" You asked, knowing exactly why the nickname had formed.

Jonah cheeks flushed a deeper red as you spoke, his mind wondering back to the intense moment you had shared just hours ago. Looking at Jonah as he grew slightly embarrassed made you let out a giggle, amused that such a small comment had turned him into a blushing mess yet again. It was almost too easy to do that to Jonah.

As you continued to walk intertwined down the sidewalk, you felt that same pang of guilt as before, twisting your stomach and making you feel as though this was all too wrong. Blaming the alcohol, you ignored it, instead relishing in the moment with Jonah and thinking of the breakfast that would hopefully cure the hangover which was still making your stomach churn.

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☆*: .｡. Tag List .｡.:*☆ @write-from-the-heart @despicablylara @whatafreakingloser @flowercrowns-goodvibes @millieb-3199 @lolawassad @catarina-trouxa @rainbow-moon @thepurplebutterflythings

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Hey guys!! I hope you enjoyed this part bc I had so much fun writing it lol.

I can’t wait for the next few parts because ✨spice✨ and plot development 😫

I hope you enjoyed, please leave feedback or ways I can improve my writing for me, and for you.

As always, have a Lovely week!! <33

#sitting on the shelf marcus white x reader #superstore #superstore x reader #superstore imagine #marcus superstore #superstore marcus x reader #Cloud 9 #marcus white #marcus white x reader #marcus white imagine #Jonah Simms x reader

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luminnara · 3 years

Text

My ex’s best friend | blackguard x reader NSFW 18+

The reader’s had a little crush on Dick for a while, but could never act on it. Now that they’re both in prison at Belle Reve, maybe it’s time to finally do something about it...

This is sorta (very) inspired by My Ex’s Best Friend by MGK, also I made a Blackguard playlist because I’m in so deep now

PART TWO

warnings: dick is a dick, language, sexy shtuff in part two!

You know my ex and that makes it all so complicated...

“Yeah, that guy’s a real dick.”

That’s what you always used to say. Whenever your bff complained about her lame, no-good, obnoxious boyfriend, that’s how you would agree with whatever she was talking about. You always laughed at the pun, too--seriously, how was that guy’s real name Dick Hertz? At least it was fitting for him. Your friend never laughed as much as you did, instead always rolling her eyes and agreeing with you. Honestly, with the amount of complaining she did, you wondered why she even stayed with the guy—but every time you saw him, you knew the answer: he was, unfortunately, pretty fucking hot, and when he wasn’t being an idiot, he had this sweet puppy dog quality that you absolutely adored.

You got along well with him, too. While your friend was more of a goody two shoes type of person, who was always aiming higher and climbing that corporate ladder, you and Dick were both guns for hire. You had a lot in common—an appreciation for a nice firearm, a disregard for the law, a lack of common decency—but whenever he was around, you were excusing yourself as quickly as possible. His relationship with your best friend wasn’t exactly going well, and being in the same room as the two of them when the arguing started wasn’t exactly fun.

When they finally broke up, it was his call. Dick couldn’t take it anymore, he told your friend. He wasn’t eloquent about it, because how could he be? He was a rude, immature, super powered criminal whose idea of a fun time was blowing people’s heads off. He told your friend that they were done, and then she called you sobbing, and then you came over and ate ice cream on the couch while she cried on your shoulder. And, like always, you said the same old line:

“Yeah, that guy’s a real dick.”

It was a breakup that you’d been expecting for a long time, and just like that, he’d become your best friend’s ex. Was he really in the wrong for dumping someone he didn’t have anything in common with? You couldn’t really say. Your friend wasn’t taking it very well, though, mourning the loss of a relationship she had always seemed to hate. She spat venom whenever she talked about him, which was a lot, and after a few weeks, she started asking you to keep tabs on him.

Was it very healthy? No, not at all. You knew your friend wasn’t moving on very well, but you were also curious about what Dick was up to. So, you tracked him down, paying attention to the way he moved around the city at night, admiring him from the rooftops whenever you spotted him in that sexy gear of his. Did you have a thing for Dick Hertz? Oh yeah. Were you too afraid to act on it, even though he was no longer dating your friend? Absolutely.

Did you want to hook up with him? Totally. He was exactly your type, and you were both probably sneaky enough that your friend would never find out...but you felt like it would be wrong to go behind her back and fuck Dick. Wasn’t there some sort of code about that? You didn’t follow the law most of the time, but you figured you should at least follow that. You had to just settle for watching him strut around, guns and knives in hand, learning more and more about him from afar than you ever had from talking to him.

Your surveillance on Blackguard was what alerted you to his arrest. He got caught up in a job gone wrong, and next thing you knew, you were watching your friend’s face light up in glee at the news.

“About time!” She said when you told her. “I’ve been waiting for them to finally lock him up for ages.”

It made you frown. “You know I’m in the same line of work as him, right?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s right.” She shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant, but alarm bells were ringing in your head.

It was only a little while later that you were arrested in a similar fashion...and whose face did you see in the court room? Your best friend’s, of course. She even testified against you, making your mercenary work seem way worse than anything you were being charged with. She talked you up so much, you got a life sentence...and a new arch nemesis.

You were seriously pissed. Of course you were. When you were transferred to Belle Reve, the prison with the notoriously high mortality rate, you were even more pissed. As you were led to the women’s side, shackled and following in a line with a few other new transfers, you were already plotting your revenge. You were so distracted by thoughts of breaking into your now-ex friend’s apartment, in fact, that you barely noticed the whistles and jeers from the male inmates as you were led through one of their cell blocks.

It didn’t seem super safe, the way they were just dragging you through like that, but nothing at Belle Reve was safe. You figured this must contribute to their staggeringly high mortality rates.

One man wasn’t cat calling, though, even though he usually did. He was too busy staring after you, at the one person he never expected to see again but desperately wished he could:

His ex’s best friend.

Dick watched you disappear through the doors at the end of the block, blinking in disbelief. How’d you even end up in there? You were always good at your job, and in the months he’d been dating your friend, he had never seen you catch any heat.

He frowned. Your friend...well, that was a common denominator. No point in dwelling on it now, though; you were both locked up, she was on the outside probably having a great time without either of you, and if he didn’t figure out how to escape a prison built to house the type of people who tried to kill Superman on the reg, Dick was gonna waste away in there. You were, too; Belle Reve wasn’t for people with short sentences, it was for people who were supposed to be locked up for life.

As he sauntered back towards his cell, Dick grinned. At least he had something to break up all the monotony now. At least he had you.

He didn’t see you again for a week. It’s not like they were ever going to let you intermingle, so he had to stay on his best behavior and hope that it would result in being let out in the big yard for rec time, the yard where all the good kids got to play. When all of his obedience was rewarded just like he had hoped, Dick found himself walking out into the sunlight, joining some of his more mild mannered peers for their usual daily outdoor time.

The yard was depressing. Dry, patchy grass dotted the cracked pavement, a few shitty looking benches placed around a shitty looking table. Some of the guys were trying to play with a deflated basketball, tossing it through a rusty, net less hoop, but with no shade to shield them from the harsh midday sun, they were all moving slowly.

Dick could care less about the prison yard and all its shortcomings. As soon as he was out, he was making a beeline for the tall fence that divided it into two sides, walking up to it and looking through the wire hopefully. The division was the reason that you had to be on your best behavior to go out in the main yard, because on the other side of the fence were the girls.

You sighed to yourself. Orange really wasn’t your color, and you had already spent a whole week wearing it. Belle Reve was hard to get out of, and by the looks of things, you were gonna be stuck in this uniform for a long, long time.

Everything about the prison sucked. The food was bad. The guards were irritating. The other inmates were dangerous. You could have been at home, going about your business as usual, but no...you had to be in America’s worst fucking jail.

At least you got to go outside. You were one of the more relaxed inmates at Belle Reve, harmless in comparison to some of the others. There were self proclaimed alien warlords, assassins, other mercenaries who were way scarier than you...you had already heard there was even a talking shark over on the men’s side.

Your reputation was enough to keep people off your back, allowing you to at least enjoy your daily hour of outside time in peace. Today, you were spending it sitting against a fence on the far side of the yard, facing the men so that you could zone out while you watched them. You didn’t feel like going too close to the dividing line and hearing all the creative ways they wanted to fuck you, but since you spent all your time with the girls, they were better for people watching.

They were boring today, though, and you leaned your head back with a sigh. You’d get out eventually, you knew you would. Whether during a raid, an explosive bust, or by your own hand, you’d see the outside world again. It was all just a matter of waiting around, and the boredom was going to kill you.

“Hey.” You looked up to see a woman standing before you. “There’s a guy over there who wants to talk to you.”

“Tell him to fuck off.”

“I’m not playing fucking messenger.” She snapped. “Blond guy. Nice teeth. Wouldn’t stop bugging me about you until I finally promised I would come over and tell you.”

Your brows knitted together. “Did he say what he wanted?”

“Again, do I look like a fucking messenger pigeon?” She shook her head and stomped away, leaving you to sit up straighter and look towards the fence across from you.

What you saw made you jump to your feet.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” Dick said, clinging to the chain link as you approached.

“Didn’t know you ended up in here, Dick.” You said.

“Didn’t know you did, either.” He retorted. “What’re you in for?”

“Same thing as you, probably.” You sighed and plopped down. “Battery. Assault. Everything they could get to stick.”

He mirrored you, hunching over as if he could lean closer through the fence somehow. “Lemme guess. My favorite ex was a key witness.”

“Bingo.” You propped your chin up on your hand as you leaned on your knee. “She lost it after you dumped her. Had me keeping an eye on you and everything.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You stalked me?”

“That sounds a lot worse than it is—“

“Nah, nah. I’m not mad, I’m impressed.” He grinned. “I didn’t notice you at all. You’re good as shit.”

You mimicked his grin. “Yeah, well...still ended up in here.”

He shrugged. “With someone like that out to get you, it doesn’t matter how good you are. We didn’t stand a chance.”

Your heart jumped a little at the way he said we, and all at once, your stupid crush was coming back. It didn’t help that this was the most you’d gotten to talk to him in...well, ever, maybe. It was starting to make you shy, and it was taking all your effort not to blush and avoid his eyes.

“So, how’s life on the inside been?” He asked. “Meet anybody fun yet?”

“There’s a girl who says she controls rats. She’s pretty cool.” You pulled your knees up to your chest. “Is it true there’s a shark guy?”

“King Shark? Surprised you haven’t heard of him.” Dick laughed. “There’s tons of famous people stuck in here, from all over. Only a matter of time before somebody’s boss or goons come bustin’ us all out.”

“I sure hope so.” You mumbled. “I already hate it here.”

“Tell me about it.” He agreed. “Place fuckin’ sucks.”

“Ever thought about running?”

“All the fuckin’ time.” He rolled his eyes. “If I had my suit and the rest of my shit, maybe.”

“What difference does that make?” You asked.

“You ever see how badass my combat suit is? C’mon.”

“What’s it even do?”

He leaned back on his elbows, that cute, cocky grin on his face. “Uh, everything?”

It was your turn to roll your eyes now. “Such as?”

“Look, babe, I’m already pretty fuckin’ strong, but it enhances it. Plus, y’know...I got my cooler shit? I can make my super badass shield and mace? Outta energy?”

When you didn’t look impressed, he tossed his hands in the air. “C’mon, it’s dope as fuck!”

You let out a little laugh. “Yeah, I’ll admit that’s pretty cool.”

He gave you that lopsided grin, and you felt yourself falling head over heels for a guy named fucking Dick Hertz.

-0-

After that day, you met as often as you could at the fence. Dick was a pretty funny guy, and as you chatted about your hobbies, your favorite music, and the cartoons you both liked to watch while high, you started to realize that he was making Belle Reve a lot less miserable than it was intended to be. He was an idiot--he liked to rush headfirst into things without any hesitation--but he was starting to feel like your idiot, and even if you only ever stayed friends, at least you’d have him around.

You were pretty sure that’s all you’d ever be. He hit on you every day, but he did that with everybody, right? That’s just how he was. Dick calling you babe and sweetcheeks didn’t mean anything. It was like a...like a casual thing, and that was probably it.

That didn’t stop you from constantly replaying conversations over and over in your head, though. While you laid in your uncomfortable bed every night, listening to the woman down the hall who snored louder than humanly possible, you always thought about Dick. You wondered if he would even be talking to you under normal circumstances, or if he was just bored with prison life. You wondered if, assuming you both eventually got out, you would get to stay in touch and continue your friendship back in Metropolis.

You wondered if he stayed awake thinking about you, too.

Dick never told you that he did, because he figured he didn’t need to tell you. He assumed you were just as into him as he was into you, and finally, one day, with the sun beating down on you, he mentioned it.

“I feel like nobody likes me.” You huffed, plopping your chin down on your hand as you sat all hunched up on your side of the fence.

“Why’s that?” Dick asked as he sat in front of you.

“Well...everybody’s got their groups. Or they’re dating somebody. No one even bothers to try to hang out with me, except the rat girl. And she’s nice, and so is Sebastian—“

“Who the fuck is Sebastian?”

“—her rat. He’s really cute. But like...you’re really the only person I’ve got in here.”

“Yeah, I mean,” he said, mouth full as he took a bite of an apple he won off of somebody, “they’re probably not bothering to hit you up because you’re with me.”

You stiffened, your heart racing, but you had to keep it chill. You had to play it cool. He was staring right at you, and you couldn’t afford to embarrass yourself now. “Yeah, that’s what I said. You’re my only actual friend in here.”

Dick let out a loud laugh. “Yeah, right. Okay. Friend.”

You furrowed your brow. Had you somehow totally misread him?

“Isn’t that what we are?” You asked. “Like...we hang out all the time because we know each other, and we’re stuck in a high security prison?”

“We hang out here because it’s totally against the rules for me to sneak into your cell at night.” He smirked.

You felt like your heart had dropped into your ass.

“Are you—do you mean—“

“What? I’m not gonna be shy about it, I wanna fuck your brains out.”

You blinked at him, mouth slightly agape. “I just thought...”

“You’re my ex’s best friend, so what? Fuck, I wanted to fuck you so bad back then...” he sighed. “Wish I did.”

“Wait. Back up.” You shook your head in disbelief. “You like me? Like, seriously.”

“Uh, yeah?” He scoffed. “Aren’t we like, a thing?”

He was looking at you like it was obvious. There he went again with the whole dumb puppy dog thing.

“Yeah,” you grinned. “Yeah, okay. I guess we are.”

“You seriously thought we weren’t?” He laughed, biting the apple. “I thought you just didn’t wanna say it. Or didn’t wanna kiss in front of the guards. Or something.”

“Dick, I’m not that shy,” you laughed.

“Then do it.”

“...what?”

He leaned towards you with a wolfish grin, his nose brushing the fence. “It’s not electrified. You can do it.”

You glanced around. There were a few guards posted around the yard, but they looked bored, and they weren’t particularly paying any attention. Inmates from either side of the prison definitely weren’t supposed to fraternize, but seriously...how could you pass up a chance like that?

Your hand gripped the wire as you leaned forward, your lips meeting his as you mashed your face against the fence. He tasted like apples and the cigarette he bought off one of the guys in his cell block that morning, which you expected, but he caught you off guard with his gentleness. It only lasted a second, lest somebody notice you swapping spit, but it was the best kiss of your life.

When you pulled back, your eyes were glued to his lips. You wanted more, so much more, and you were determined to get it.

“Tonight, at maybe...three am?” You thought out loud, “there’s a guard rotation. You should go take a shower right around then.”

“Oh yeah?” He was grinning wildly, “showers are usually empty right around then, but there’s a lotta doors for you to get through if you wanna join me.”

“Don’t worry about that.” You said. “I’m a pro.”

#blackguard x reader #blackguard #dc imagine #dick hertz x reader #dick hertz #richard hertz #richard hertz x reader #the suicide squad x reader #the suicide squad

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marauderundercover · 3 years

Text

Taking Chances: Ch. 24: Important Questions (Wedding)

AO3

Marinette pouts from her spot on the couch, shoving another spoonful of cookie dough in her mouth. She makes her eyes as big as possible, channeling Manon as she tries to emulate the younger girls’ puppy dog eyes.

“Silena, your kid’s eyes are breaking my heart. Look at her!” Harley cries, pointing at Marinette’s face. Silena rolls her eyes.

“Don’t give in Harls, remember what happened the last time we watched it?” Silena reminds her, and Marinette resists the urge to huff at her soon-to-be stepmom. Or, bonus mom, as she’d taken to mentally calling her. Stepmom had such an unfair negative context thanks to fairytales, and she actually really liked Silena. Except in this one moment. At this moment, they were on opposite sides of the war.

“Please Auntie Harley! Please!” She begs again, sitting up so that she can make direct eye contact with the woman. If she was any good at the ‘Manon stare’ as she called it, then Harley would be giving up in 3, 2, 1-

“Okay! I give! Looks like we’re watching Mamma Mia next.” Harley calls out, leaning over to grab the remote and turn the movie on. Marinette grins widely, settling back on the couch and curling into Selina’s side. Selina huffs.

“You’re lucky I love you, kitten. Last time we watched this Harley got in trouble for her impromptu ABBA concerts.” She complains, and Marinette’s grin widens.

“Really?” She says, then she gasps as the best idea comes to mind. “I just realized something.”

“What is it kiddo?” Harley asks, popping a handful of Reese's Pieces in her mouth.

“You guys can be Donna and the Dynamos.” She says, before miming a small explosion. This was awesome! Amazing! She could- whoa. She could even design them a group outfit with the characters in mind. She could already imagine all the ways she could improve on the original design. Of course she’d keep the bell bottoms, they were a staple of the time. And she knew her bonus mom and aunts would rock a good pair of bell bottoms. The major changes would come with the material type, the colors, and the sleeves of the suits.

“If we perform another musical on a roof Batsy’s gonna get mad.” Harley says with a sigh. Marinette purses her lips as she thinks. She was technically already on thin ice. She’d stolen the Batmobile earlier in the week, and had managed to worm her way into regular patrols. Which was technically her dad’s fault, but he still looked frustrated the first night she walked down and asked who she was patrolling with. But she was finally patrolling with them regularly, even if it felt like she had a babysitter some of the time (all of the time). She was supposed to always be with her dad or Dick (apparently she’s not allowed to go out with just Jason or Damian because they caused ‘trouble’ when they were left unsupervised). So she went, but it was more stifling than patrols in Paris. Patrols which she’d had to lighten up on, with the lack of attacks and the way it tired out Kaalki before there was even an emergency. It was wrong. But if she kept one of Gotham’s former rogues off the crime path with catchy tunes and bell bottom pants, who was her dad to judge?

---

Apparently her dad wouldn’t judge. Dick on the other hand..

“How can you do this to me? This is an absolute, utter, complete, total-”

“Dick, calm down! What’s wrong, talk to me.” Marinette hushes her older brother, looking at him worriedly. He takes a deep breath.

“I can’t believe you would stoop so low. After the hurtful things you said about my discowing suit?” He sniffles, throwing a hand over his heart. Marinette blinks, then realizes what the man was talking about.

“Is this about the Donna and the Dynamos outfits that I designed for those girls?” Marinette asks frowning. Dick lets out a pained moan, contorting his face as if he was in actual pain.

“I thought you cared about me! I thought we were close!” He cries. Marinette huffs, shoving him lightly.

“If I designed your discowing suit, it wouldn’t have been godawful. We would have used the disco elements in a way that didn’t suck. Ya know, like I did with the Sirens’ outfits?” She says, patting his back. “Just because I hated your suit doesn’t mean I hate you.” She reassures him. Though the distressed groan he lets out lets her know that he’s still taking it to heart. Oops.

---

“Hey! I’m here. I brought ice cream, like Harley asked.” Marinette announces, using the key Silena had given her to get into the apartment. She frowns at the emptiness of the apartment. She’d never seen it so devoid of life. Someone (usually Harley) was always there to greet her and pick her up into a huge hug. Not today though, which put her on edge. Creeping forward slowly, she glances around the room, looking for any potential danger. Or clues on where the Sirens might be. Had they forgotten about her? Just as she’s about to text Silena, music seeps into the apartment and she tenses. Until she sees her bonus mom and aunts. In their Dynamo outfits. Performing “Super Trouper”. With choreography and everything. Marinette lets out a short laugh, grinning widely at the three who just laugh and continue singing.

“Cause somewhere in the crowd there’s you.” Selina sings, pointing dramatically at Marinette. Marinette runs over and stands next to Silena, moving quietly and copying their movements. She’s pleasantly surprised at the level that she’s able to keep up with them, laughing with glee as the song continues. Once it’s done, the three women wrap her in a hug and Marinette’s eyebrows furrowed together.

“Ya know, I love that I got to see the outfits in action and everything, but was there a reason for the dramatics?” Marinette asks with a teasing smile. Silena glances at the other two before nodding.

“Marinette, sweetheart, I wanted to ask if you would be one of the bridesmaids.” Silena says and Marinette freezes. She swears she bluescreens. Bridesmaid? Her? She’s a disaster. She can’t do anything right and then her dad and Silena will be upset with her but then they’ll get more disappointed at each other and when she tries to fix it they won’t let her and instead they’ll send her away and say they never wanna see her again because she’s an awful bridesmaid and-

“Kitten, I need you to breathe.” Silena’s voice breaks through the haze she’s found herself in. Marinette blinks slowly, trying to break herself out of whatever hell her mind had managed to suck her into today.

“Why me?” Is what’s able to escape her mouth. It’s the only question that is able to breath past the barrier that Marinette set up for herself.

“Because you’re my daughter, whether you like it or not. So I want you to be part of the wedding, more than just someone who shows up for the food in a fancy outfit. Though that can definitely be your motivator.” Silena says, looking slightly unsure as she watches Marinette’s face- probably looking for any visible cues of discomfort. Marinette grins widely before throwing herself forward, wrapping her arms around the older woman, melting in the arms of the woman who truly was her second mom. She sighs in content at how safe she feels, how at home she is. It was strange for her, how quickly Gotham had managed to worm its way into her soul. Strange, but definitely something that they would figure out. She had to. She refused to lose either side of her family- civilian or not.

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atlafan · 2 years

Text

“The most important thing is to keep checking your mirrors and blind spots.” Niall tells Mabel the next day. He told her they could drive in his car for a bit after she cried over the mean driving instructor. “And you don’t need to grip the wheel so hard.”

“I know, it’s just scary.” She loosens her grip just a tad. “You would think they’d train their instructors to have better bedside manner. I mean, the teenagers must get just as nervous, if not more. If I were a kid I would have been crying in that car.”

“I’m sorry you got stuck with a shitty instructor.”

“I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was just having a bad day. We all have bad days.”

“He still shouldn’t have been so short with you. If he’s like that again you should complain, or at least request a new instructor.”

“I don’t think he was expecting an adult to get into the front seat. He seemed surprised that I wasn’t sixteen. He was almost mad that I’m an adult. Not everyone learns how to drive when they’re sixteen.”

“And don’t you forget it. I didn’t get my license until I was twenty-one. I hadn’t had the need for one until I moved to the area.”

“Exactly!”

“You’re doing really well.”

“That’s because youdon’t intimidate me, Niall. I’m comfortable with you. This guy was so cold, I couldn’t get comfortable.”

“Did you tell him you were nervous?”

“Yeah! A few times, actually. He didn’t care. I hope these lessons go by quickly, I just want to be able to drive my car. I mean, it’s not every day your job gives you a company car.”

“I know! You’re so lucky. Is it part of your promotion?”

“Sort of, my promotion is going to involve a bit of driving, so I worked it into my contract. I’m going to be jumping around to different IT departments for trainings and whatnot. I won’t always be traveling, but when I am, it’s going to be for a few days on end, and public transit just won’t do depending on what equipment I’m going to bring.”

“I wish I was as smart as you.” Niall sighs.

“You’re extremely intelligent, what are you talking about?!” Mabel pulls over, and takes a deep breath. “Okay, how do I parallel park? I need this guy to be impressed with me.”

“I don’t quite think you’re ready for that yet. Try pulling up to an easier open spot on the street.” She does as he says. “I’m not smart compared to you. You’re in IT, and I work at a bar and drive for Uber. Not exactly living the dream.”

“And you think Iam?” She blinks as she puts the car in park. “I enjoy my work, but corporate capitalism sucks. I only got into the field because I’m not very personable, and I prefer to work alone in my office, or one on one if I have to deal with people. You’re street smart, at least, and your bar always books fun bands to play. I love going there. Plus, now that I live in this area, I can just order your Uber so I’ll feel even safer.” She grins at her friend. “What do you think you’d be doing otherwise?”

“I don’t know, I think I’d like to be the one booking the bands. I love music, and my manager tends to listen to me when I tell him how the crowds react to different bands. I feel like I have a good ear.”

“You definitely do! I always like who you suggest for me to listen to.”

“Thanks.” Niall smiles. “Alright, I think we’ve done enough driving for today. What do you say we go walk somewhere for lunch?”

“I say that’s an excellent idea.”

[READ DIVINE STRANGERS ON PATREON NOW!]

#patreon #divine strangers #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles fic #drumrry #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x oc

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themollyjay · 3 years

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The Myths of Forced Diversity and Virtue Signaling.

In my novel Mail Order Bride, the three main characters are a lesbian and two agendered aliens. In my novel Scatter, the main character is a lesbian, the love interest is a pansexual alien, and the major side characters include a half Cuban, half black Dominican lesbian, a Chinese Dragon, a New York born Jewish Dragon, and a Transgender Welsh Dragon. In my novel The Master of Puppets, the Main Characters are a lesbian shapeshifting reptilian alien cyborg and a half black, half Japanese lesbian. The major side characters include three gender fluid shapeshifting reptilian alien cyborgs, and a pansexual human. In my novel Transistor, the main character is a Trans Lesbian, the love interest is a Half human/Half Angel non-observant Ethiopian Jew, and the major side characters include a Transgender Welsh Dragon (the same one from Scatter), a Transgender woman, a Latino Lesbian, an autistic man, three Middle Eastern Arch Angels, and a hive mind AI with literally hundreds of genders. In my novel The Inevitable singularity, one of the main characters is a lesbian, another has a less clearly defined sexuality but she is definitely in love with the lesbian, and the third is functionally asexual due to a vow of chastity she takes very seriously. The major side characters include a straight guy from a social class similar to the Dalit (commonly known as untouchables) in India, a bisexual woman, a man who is from a race of genetically modified human/frog hybrids, and a woman from a race of genetically modified humans who are bred and sold as indentured sex workers.

Why am I bringing all of this up? Well, first, because it’s kind of cool to look at the list of different characters I’ve created, but mostly because it connects to what I want to talk about today, which should be obvious from the title of the essay. The concepts of ‘forced diversity’ and ‘virtue signaling’.

For those who aren’t familiar with these terms, they’re very closely related concepts. ‘Forced Diversity’ is the idea that characters who aren’t neurotypical cisgendered heterosexual white males are only ever included in a story because of outside pressure from some group (usually called Social Justice Warriors, or The Woke Brigade or something similar) to meet some nebulous political agenda. The caveat to this is, of course, that you can have a women/women present as long as they are hot, don’t make any major contributions to the resolution of the plot, and the hero/heroes get to fuck them before the end of the story. ‘Virtue Signaling’, according to Wikipedia, is a pejorative neologism for the expression of a disingenuous moral viewpoint with the intent of communicating good character.

The basic argument is that Forced Diversity is a form of virtue signaling. That no one would ever write characters who aren’t neurotypical cisgendered heterosexual white males because they want to. They only do it to please the evil SJW’s who are somehow both so powerful that they force everybody to conform to their desires, yet so irrelevant that catering to them dooms any creative project to financial failure via the infamous ‘go woke, go broke’ rule.

What the people who push this idea of Forced Diversity tend to forget is that we exist at a point in time when creators actually have more creative freedom than are any other people in history. Comic writers can throw up a website and publish their work as a webcomic without having to go through Marvel, DC or one of the other big names, or get a place in the dying realm of the news paper comics page. Novelists can self-publish with fairly little upfront costs, musicians can use places like YouTube and Soundcloud to get their work out without having to worry about music publishers. Artists can hock their work on twitter and tumblr and a dozen other places. Podcasts are relatively cheap to make, which has opened up a resurgence in audio dramas. Even the barrier to entry for live action drama is ridiculously low.

So, in a world where creators have more freedom than ever before, why would they choose to people their stories with characters they don’t want there? The answer, of course, is that they wouldn’t. Authors, comic creators, indie film creators and so on aren’t putting diverse characters into their stories because they are being forced to. They’re putting diverse characters into their stories because they want to. Creators want to tell stories about someone other than the generically handsome hypermasculine cisgendered heterosexual white males that have been the protagonists of so many stories over the years that we’ve choking on it. A lot of times, creators want to tell stories about people like themselves. Black creators want to tell stories about the black experience. Queer creators want to tell stories about the queer experience.

I’m an autistic, mentally ill trans feminine abuse survivor. Every day, I get up and I struggle with PTSD, with an eating disorder, with severe body dysmorphia, with anxiety and depression and just the reality of being autistic and transgender. I deal with the fact that the religious community I grew up in views me as an abomination, and genuinely believes I’m going to spend eternity burning in hell. I deal with the fact that people I’ve known for decades, even members of my own family, regularly vote for politician who publicly state that they want to strip me of my civil rights because I’m queer. I’m part of a community that experiences a disproportionately high murder and suicide rate. I’ve spent multiple years of my life deep in suicidal depression, and to this day, I still don’t trust myself around guns.

As a creator, I want to talk about those issues. I want to deal with my life experiences. I want to create characters that embody and express aspects of my lived experience and my day-to-day reality. No one is forcing me to put diversity into my books. I try to include Jewish characters as often as I can because there have been a number of important Jewish people in my life. I include queer people because I’m queer and the vast majority of friends I interact with on a regular basis are queer. I include people with mental illnesses and trauma because I am mentally ill and have trauma, and I know a lot of people with mental illnesses and trauma. My work may be full of fantastical elements, aliens and dragons and angels and superheroes and magic and ultra-high technology and AI’s and talking cats and robot dogs and shape shifters and telepaths and all sorts of other things, but at the core of the stories is my own lived experience, and neurotypical cisgendered heterosexual white males are vanishingly rare in that experience.

Now, I can hear the comments already. The ‘okay, maybe that’s true for individual creators, but what about corporate artwork?’. Maybe not in those exact words, but you get the idea.

The thought here is that corporations are bowing to social pressure to include characters who aren’t neurotypical cisgendered heterosexual white males, and that is somehow bad. But here’s the thing. Corporations are going to chase the dollars. They aren’t bowing to social pressure. There’s no one holding a gun to some executive’s head saying, “You must have this many diversity tokens in every script.” What is happening is that corporations are starting to clue into the fact that people who aren’t neurotypical cisgendered heterosexual white males have money. They are putting black characters in their shows and movies because black people watch shows and spend money on movies. They are putting queer people in shows and movies because queer people watch shows and spend money on movies. They are putting women in shows and movies because women watch shows and spend money on movies.

No one is forcing these companies to do this. They are choosing to do it, the same way individual creators are choosing to do it. In the companies’ cases the choices are made for different reasons. It’s not because they are necessarily passionate about telling stories about a particular experience, but because they want to create art to be consumed by the largest audience possible, which means that they have to expand their audience beyond the neurotypical cisgendered heterosexual white male by including characters from outside of that demographic.

And the reality is, the cries of ‘forced diversity’ and ‘virtue signaling’ almost always come from within that demographic. Note the almost. There are a scattering of individuals from outside that demographic which do subscribe to the ‘forced diversity’ and ‘virtue signaling’ myths, but that is a whole other essay. However, within that demographic, lot of the people who cry about ‘forced diversity’ see media and content as a Zero-Sum game. The more that’s created for other people, the less that is created for them.

In a way, they’re right. There are only so many slots for TV shows each week, there are only so many theaters, only so much space on comic bookshelves and so on. But at the end of the day, its literally impossible for them to consume all the content that’s being produced anyway. So, while there is, theoretically less content for them to consume, as a practical matter it’s a bit like someone who is a meat eater going to a buffet with two hundred items, and then throwing a tantrum because five of the items happen to be vegan.

The worst part is, if they could let go of how wound up they are about the ‘forced diversity’ and ‘virtue signaling’ they could probably enjoy the content that’s produced for people other than them. I mean, I’m a pasty ass white girl, and I loved Black Panther.

So, to wrap out, creators, make what you want to make, and ignore anyone who cries about forced diversity or virtue signaling. And to people who are complaining about forced diversity and virtue signaling, I want to go back to the buffet metaphor. You need to relax. Even if there are a few vegan options on the buffet, you can still get your medium rare steak, or your chicken teriyaki or whatever it is you want. Or, maybe, just maybe, you could give the falafel a try. That shit is delicious.

#writing #original fiction #media #representation #diversity #the war of souls #the hearts of heroes #The Master of Puppets #scatter #transistor #the inevitable singularity #mail order bride

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spooky-z · 4 years

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IN THE DARK

This story contains: sexual harassment, attempted rape, panic attacks and language. Proceed with caution.

Important info: in this au, Hawkmoth was defeated and Gabriel was never Hawkmoth (nor Natalie-Mayura), but don't worry, he will have karma in his ass.

I didn't tag anyone again, because of the possible triggers.

I wrote this story listening in the dark by bmth in the replay.

You will find things wrong about the law and things like that, but I'm not a lawyer or a police officer so ignore it. This is only a fanfiction.

9.05K

Maribat by @ozmav

Adrien felt numb.

He knew that his heart was beating normally, his lungs working as usual, but the sensation of being suspended... The extra-corporeal sensation he was experiencing, caused these two facts to be left in the back of his conscience.

There was something.

There was someone.

Someone was talking to him.

But Adrien-

"He's having a panic attack!"

Adrien was choking. The air entering his lungs made his chest hurt, his eyes were open - he knew - but he could see nothing but shapes; the wet on his cheek said that he had cried, that he was crying.

His body was freezing, the taste mixed with blood and bile in his mouth made him sick, the sounds seemed distant and the smell-

The smell of her perfume.

Was too much-

Too much-

Someone was touching.

Someone was touching him.

And-

It was like he was still there.

As if she were there.

Adrien-

...

▫▪▪

"Shit." Marinette sighed. "He passed out."

"Sorry!" Chloe was crying heavily in Kagami's arms. “I'm sorry, Mari! I did not know-"

"It's all right, Chlo." Kagami rubbed the blonde's back. "You were just trying to help."

"But-"

"Chloe, it's okay." Marinette said, trying to put Adrien on the sofa. “We are going to let him rest. I need to clean up this mess.”

The mess being the vomit spread on the wooden floor, the lamp shattered on the table, apart from the torn tablecloth.

Adrien, trying to stop himself from falling or, trying to find something to act as an anchor, had pulled the tablecloth tightly, tearing the embroidered details from the hem. And when he hit the ground, he slammed against the table with the lamp.

This was all because Chloe had touched Lila's name.

And Marinette knew at once, that Lila had crossed all lines. Even without knowing what had actually happened.

The three girls were surprised by the sound of the door opening, but soon relaxed when they saw that it was just Luka.

Luka who didn’t know what had happened and was looking at the calamitous state of Marinette's house with horror.

"... What?"

"Adrien." Kagami sighed.

"Adrien?"

"He had a panic attack." Chloe elaborated.

"What was the trigger?"

"Lila." Marinette responded with disgust.

"What the hell did she do this time?" Luka narrowed his eyes, eyes in which the pupils were a little more... sharp. Like a reptile. A snake.

"We don't know." Chloe sniffed, still shaken. "The only thing we know is that when I touched her name, he started to freak out."

"When he got here, was he acting weird?"

"A little less cheerful, but we thought it was Gabriel acting like absolute trash again." Kagami replied.

Luka approached the sofa, eyes sliding over Adrien's sleeping figure. Noticing the reddish spots under the eyes and how the hair was a little oily; which was not normal, since Gabriel did not accept Adrien less than perfect.

"Didn't Plagg say anything?"

"Plagg is hiding with Tikki on the gramophone and doesn't want to leave at all." Marinette sighed. “He barely stopped to speak to us when Adrien arrived. He just dropped the transformation and disappeared into my room. "

"So, he knows what happened and for him to be acting like that, it means it wasn't just one of Lila's lies bothering Adrien." Luka said, fingers stuck in the foam of the sofa. “And apparently it was something really serious. Serious enough to break Adrien.”

"I knew we shouldn't have left Paris without him!" Marinette growled. "If I had just-"

"Marin, please, this is not your fault." Luka said, approaching the girl. “It is not our fault. Adrien even encouraged us to make this trip.”

"He knew you missed Damian." Chloe pointed. "He wanted us to get away from Paris a little bit to celebrate our transfer."

"Even so!" The girl protested. "If I had taken Kaalki, perhaps I could have avoided what happened here."

"Hime..."

"I am afraid." Marinette murmured, tears flowing freely and Luka hugged the girl. “Afraid that Lila has broken Adrien beyond repair."

▫▪▪

The scent of chamomile tea was what woke Adrien out of a dreamless sleep.

At first, he shifted in confusion because that was not his bed. That mattress was a little harder than the mattress on his bed, besides being very narrow and the ceiling was too low to be his home.

But then he heard Marinette's voice whispering something close to him, the blond of Chloe's hair over his stomach, the distinct red of Kagami's fencing uniform and the comforting blue of Luka side by side.

"..." He moved, stretching to sit and Chloe was quick to lift her head. He noticed that her eyes were slightly red. "Good Morning?"

"Adrien!"

"Hey, Chlo."

He was at Marinette's house.

Adrien had gone to the Dupain-Cheng house after fleeing the Agreste mansion.

After running away from his father.

After running away from Lila.

His memory of the day before coming back like an avalanche.

Just like tears.

▫▪▪

"Adrien!"

Marinette, Luka and Kagami hurriedly got up from the table after hearing Chloe's voice.

"Hey, Chlo." They heard Adrien's voice, hoarse and weak, before they saw him.

The model looked the worst for wear. The deep dark circles, the hair pointing in several possible directions, oily and the vomit stains on the shirt, gave a much worse look than he had before passing out.

Marinette was distracted by the tears running down the boy's face.

"Adrien." Kagami sighed, devastated. Eyes shining with tears.

The model bent over his knees before he started to cry hysterically. With painful sobs, snot running down his nose, fingers digging into the blanket Marinette had thrown over him the night before.

Adrien's body shook with the force of sobs, his skin had turned an alarming shade of red.

"I-I-" He tried to say.

Luka was the first to approach him, cautiously so as not to overburden the blonde further. He had no escape when Adrien threw himself on him, arms tight around the musician's waist and his face buried in his chest.

Luka put his arms around Adrien's shoulders, returning the hug as tightly as he could.

Chloe sat next to Adrien on the sofa, gluing his legs over her thighs and crying silently.

Kagami approached, but preferred to sit beside Chloe, one arm on the girl's shoulders and the other hand making circular motions on the skin of Adrien's foot.

Marinette was the last to approach, sitting on the arm of the sofa next to Adrien, her hand making comforting movements on the boy's back and his blond hair.

They waited for Adrien to finish crying - Kagami having gone out once to make more chamomile tea - to give the boy a mug of tea.

When Adrien put his feet on the floor and leaned back on the sofa, giving Luka space to sit next to him, Kagami sat on the coffee table where Chloe joined her to be closer to the boy. The four around Adrien.

But it was only after he finished half the tea that Adrien started talking.

"Remember when I told you that I was going to talk to my dad about how Lila was making me uncomfortable in photoshoots and at school?" The four nodded. “Yesterday, before I left for school, I spoke to Gabriel. I told him how I was feeling about all of Lila's harassment and how I didn't want to have contact with her anymore and- “

Adrien took another sip of the tea, fingers tight on the porcelain.

“He said that I shouldn't complain. That an Agreste doesn't run away from a problem, he faces it.” He focused on the amber liquid in the mug. "That I shouldn't complain about my fiancée being sticky."

"What the fuck!?" Chloe whispered angrily. "Fiancée? Gabriel was classier than that.”

Adrien cringed at Chloe's words and the girl squeezed his knee in regret.

“I went to school; the day went by smoothly since Lila didn't show up for classes. I even got excited, even after the conversation with Gabriel. So, when I got home- “Adrien took one hand from the mug to intertwine with Luka's. Trying to anchor. “Lila was there, saying that my father had invited her for a romantic date with me, so we could get to know each other better... I ran away to my room. I-I don't know, I panicked I think.”

He shook his head, looking confused.

“I locked the door, I'm sure of it, but Lila managed to get in anyway. She saw Plagg.” He gasped; eyes wide. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't want to-“

Marinette put her arm around the boy's shoulders, pulling him into a hug.

“Shh, it's okay, chaton. It was not your fault." She whispered against his hair.

Adrien remained with his face buried in Marinette's shoulder for a few minutes before moving away, his eyes fixed nowhere.

“L-Lila was surprised, but she understood what that meant in some way, I don't know how! So, she threatened to tell everyone if I didn't do what she wanted and I couldn't let her tell everyone about Chat Noir! I couldn’t!" Tears started to run down Adrien's face again. "So, I accepted."

"Adrien." Kagami sighed.

"I thought she would force me to fake a relationship or support her in her lies, I don't know!" Adrien's eyes became more and more glazed. “But that wasn't. That wasn't it. That wasn't it. That wasn't-” His voice trailed off; his lips trembled.

"Take a deep breath, baby." Luka stroked the model's hand, squeezing when Adrien did what he asked. "This, like this... We are here for you."

"She asked me for a kiss." He said weakly and Marinette felt her blood run cold, dreading Adrien's next words.

The other three, having the same reasoning as Marinette, had frozen.

“I didn't want to, but I did what she asked. But then...” He took a deep breath. "But then she said that a simple kiss wouldn’t be enough to keep such a big secret and that she wanted more..."

Adrien placed the mug of tea in Luka's hands, before covering his mouth tightly. Eyes fluttered, but Marinette was quicker.

She took the bucket she had left near the sofa, in case Adrien felt sick again and handed it to the boy, who violently poured all the tea with bile.

When Adrien sat back on the sofa, tired of being sick, Chloe took the bucket and set it on the floor. "Do you want some water?"

Adrien shook his head. "Not yet. I don't think I can keep something in my stomach.” He looked at the ceiling. “... I think I blacked out when she started kissing me, because all I remember after that was Plagg shouting my name and hitting my face. I was undressed, but I still had my underwear on and Lila was lying on the bed just in lingerie. I think Plagg knocked her out.”

Marinette rose from the arm of the sofa, unable to contain herself.

She had tears - like all of them - rolling down her cheeks, her fists were clenched and her nails digging hard into the skin of her hand, she had to use all her restraint to keep from catching Tikki and hunting Lila all over Paris.

Adrien didn't notice the girl's action, his eyes unfocused and still immersed in the story.

"So, I got dressed and used Chat Noir to get away." He continued. "I didn't really think about it until Chloe-" Adrien looked up. “Now I don't know what to do. I don't want to go home because my dad is going to be there and I don't want to go to school either because Lila is going to be there. I also can't stay at your house because I'm sure you will be the first suspects, but it's not like I have much of a choice, so-”

"Adrien." Luka said, barely managing to control the tone of his voice. "Don't you dare suggest going back to that house."

"You are not going back there, Adrien." Kagami stood up, hands running through her hair before she sat down at the table again. "What happened here was not something frivolous. That was very serious.”

"But-" Adrien tried to protest.

"You are not going back to that house." Marinette interrupted anything he could say. “Not if I have anything to say about it. What I have."

That's when Chloe's phone rang with a message received. Five messages in a row.

She got up to check, trying to distract her mind from everything Adrien had told them. Chloe was not coping well with the fact that Gabriel had let Adrien be abused just because he didn’t accept that his son was gay.

Of course, she didn't mention it to her four friends. But she knew that Gabriel's sudden interest in Adrien and Lila becoming more than classmates or co-workers, was linked to Adrien's announcement about being in a romantic relationship with another boy.

Gabriel had smiled and acted like the father of the year on camera, but they knew the truth, of course.

Adrien was on a call with Marinette when Gabriel broke into the boy's room demanding that Adrien retract himself. Demanding that he go to the press and say it was a mistake.

Because Gabriel would not accept his only heir to be in a relationship that, in addition to not bearing fruit - children - would be dragging the Agreste name in the mud because Luka was not someone of high society.

Luka Stone was not a fact known to everyone, only close friends and family. So, the man thought Luka was just a gold digger.

Not that it mattered to Adrien.

So, Gabriel was an old man, homophobic and traditionalist. He wanted Adrien to marry a woman, one who would give him grandchildren and was rich. Someone like Kagami Tsurugi. But Kagami had dodged that bullet by telling Tomoe that she was not interested in romantic relationships, wanting to focus all of her time on fencing.

Which was a complete lie, but it had worked.

Chloe thought Gabriel would try to negotiate Adrien's hand with Audrey, since the first option was out of the question, but he never contacted either Audrey or André about it, so she thought he had finally come to his senses.

But apparently, he felt so trapped that he sold his soul to Satan. The talk of finding someone in high society left out, focusing only on the 'woman who could give grandchildren'.

Chloe tilted her head, taking deep breaths to calm herself.

She couldn't break. Not with Adrien needing all possible support.

The phone rang two more times, the screen lit showing seven unread Sabrina messages.

Brina <3

[3:25 PM]: Dad showed up with another police officer and Mlle. Sancoeur looking for Adrien, did you see him? [3:25 PM]: Apparently, he ran away from home yesterday and nobody knows where he went [3:26 PM]: Lila is saying some very strange things... I don't know if I believe her. [3:27 PM]: She's accusing you and Marinette of kidnapping Adrien for being jealous of their relationship... But that can't be true, can it? Adrien is dating Luka! We all know that! [3:28 PM]: Chlo, I don't like what she's implying. Is Adrien okay? Did she do something to him yesterday? Is that why he ran away???? [3:29 PM]: Nino said that Adrien doesn't answer the phone and doesn't know where he might be. [3:30 PM]: If you are with Adrien now, let him know that they are going after him. They left for the Dupain-Cheng bakery.

"Mari, we have a problem!"

"What's it?"

“Gabriel pulled the strings and the police are already looking for Adrien. They are coming here.”

Adrien stood up from the sofa abruptly, his hands shaking and his face pale.

"I can't go back there." He stammered. “I know I talked about going back, but I can't. Don't make me go back there.”

Luka stood up, placing his hands on the boy's shoulders and forcing him to face him.

“Adrien, calm down. We will not send you back there.”

"What are we going to do, Marin?" Kagami asked worriedly.

"I know exactly what to do." Marinette replied, determined.

She wouldn't let Gabriel or Lila get away with it. They would pay for hurting Adrien.

▫▪▪

Chloe jumped in surprise at the sound of the doorbell ringing, but Kagami was quick to kiss the girl's hand in comfort. Trying to calm her down.

Marinette sent a look at the two of them, before getting up from the sofa and answering the door. Where M. Raincomprix, Mlle. Sancoeur and another police officer, one she didn’t recognize, looked at her critically.

“Oh! Hello M. Raincomprix! Mlle. Sancoeur and...”

“Berger. Louis Berger.” The man introduced himself.

"M. Berger.” She repeated, smiling sweetly. “What brings you here? I hope it's not for our pastry, because Mom and Dad are in London on vacation!” Marinette joked.

Sancoeur frowned in annoyance, Raincomprix looked increasingly uncomfortable and Berger was the only one who was courteous enough to smile pleasantly at her.

"Unfortunately, we're not here to-" Raincomprix started, but Sancoeur was quick to cut him off, almost pushing Marinette to the floor as she passed through the door.

"Where's Adrien?!" She snarled.

"Adrien?" Marinette murmured in confusion. "I haven't seen Adrien since last week, before I left."

"We received information that Adrien Agreste would be here." Raincomprix said, being more polite than Sancoeur when entering the house, followed by Berger.

"I don't know who could have informed you about this, but it is impossible for Adrien to be here." She answered. "I arrived from Gotham just last night."

Sancoeur grunted like a furious dog, looking like she was about to hit Marinette. Which was a surprise, since Marinette never saw the woman less than composed.

"Don't lie to us!" She spat. "I know that you are obsessed with Adrien and crazy enough to try anything!"

Marinette frowned, feeling offended. She was trying not to break the insolent woman's nose.

“Mlle. Sancoeur I really don't know where Adrien- “

"Adrien?" Chloe's voice cut the tension between the two. And the four turned to face Chloe standing in the middle of the room, Kagami beside her holding hands. "What's with Adrien? Something happened? He’s fine?" She was frantic, almost panicked.

Marinette had to admit that the girl had a talent for acting.

“Oh, Mlle. Bourgeois and Mlle. Tsurugi, you would be next on the list.” Berger said surprised.

"List? What list?” Kagami looked genuinely confused. “And what does this have to do with Adrien? Can someone explain to us what the hell is going on? "

Raincomprix had a painful expression on his face.

"Adrien Agreste went missing last night and nobody knows where he might be."

"WHAT?!"

▫▪▪

Needless to say, Natalie seemed less than happy to be leaving Marinette's house. Having sniffed every corner and not finding a single strand of blond hair to accuse the girl of kidnapping.

The officers left the house on various levels of embarrassment thanks to Sancoeur's less than ideal behavior.

▫▪▪

"What is the plan?" Damian asked.

All of them - except Luka who had gone to Liberty just to get him off the list of suspects - were at Wayne's mansion in Paris. The place that Adrien would stay hidden until it was time to appear again.

After Sabrina's warning, Marinette was quick to throw Trixx and the necklace over Adrien's hands, ordering him to transform and then casting an illusion over himself, becoming invisible. Soon after she got in touch with Damian explaining everything as quickly and succinctly as she could and he told Adrien to hide there, at Wayne mansion, where no one would come looking for him.

Luka had left at the same time as Adrien, losing the police and Sancoeur in a matter of minutes.

Kagami, Chloe and Marinette stayed in the house for an hour after Sancoeur and company left, before heading to Wayne's mansion.

Where they were trying to come up with a plan that would destroy Gabriel and Lila once and for all.

"I don’t know." Marinette sighed. “Defeating Hawkmoth was different from that here because well, the guy was a terrorist and I was just able to beat him up with all my strength. Now, Gabriel is a civilian, a despicable and horrible, but still civilian. The same goes for Rossi. I cannot go with brute force.”

"How about blackmail?" Tim suggested, they were all sitting on the floor of the game room trying to think of something.

Kagami shook her head. "Blackmail may be a good idea at first, but it loses its effectiveness as time goes on."

“It has to be something more definitive. Like jail or death.” Chloe said, not caring about her abruptness.

Adrien was not among them, which was a major factor in Chloe's lack of filter. The model had gone up to one of the guest rooms wanting to bathe and sleep. Trixx following him closely, since Marinette was not comfortable leaving him alone.

Plagg still refusing to leave the Kwamii dimension.

Plagg. Plagg.

"Wait!" Marinette stood up; her brow furrowed in concentration. “Do you remember what Adrien said? About Lila recognizing Plagg.”

Kagami bit her lip thinking, before opening her eyes wide. "He said that she knew what Plagg meant."

Tim cocked his head in confusion. "So, she saw Adrien transform before?"

Chloe shook her head frantically. The eyes were wide, too. "No." She answered. “Adrien said that Lila saw Plagg and understood what it meant. If she had seen Adrien transform before, she would have already tried to blackmail him.”

"Not to mention that he said she was surprised, before informing him that she knew what Plagg was." Kagami said.

"Which means..." murmured Marinette.

"Lila already had contact with miraculous and kwamii before she saw Plagg for the first time." Damian worked out the train of thought. "And the only miraculous who was not with the Guardian was-"

"The butterfly." Everyone said together.

The five froze, the meaning of those words weighing on them, only returning to normal when Plagg suddenly appeared between them.

"Pigtails, I have an idea on how to take down the demon Rossi." He said without the usual tone of mockery. “About Agreste senior, I think your boyfriend and his brother will get enough just by investigating his past. The guy is not very good at hiding the tracks.��

The four who were still sitting on the floor stood up, different levels of determination showing on their faces.

"But before that, let me call the cavalry." Marinette agreed, hand taking the phone out of her jeans pocket.

"Cavalry?" Tim muttered confusedly to Damian and the boy just sent a conspiratorial smile in response.

Marinette had the phone to her ear.

“Mom? I need your help and Dad's.” She said. “It's about Adrien. He needs his family.”

▫▪▪

Finding evidence against Gabriel was like Plagg said: easy.

The guy had the Everest of dirt, but he had no idea how to get rid of the evidence. He probably just hadn't been arrested yet because he was rich and because of corruption. After all, why arrest a guy for free when you can keep him free and still earn a fat bonus for that, right?!

They managed to do away with two printer paper packages and there was still a shortage of paper to print the evidence against him.

Rossi had been easy and complicated at the same time, because the evidence about her being less than a decent person had been easy to find. A little survey of the previous schools she had attended gave them more than enough evidence that the girl was at least a sociopath and at most a psychopath.

Not medicated and who, in a way, liked it.

However, finding evidence that Lila worked with the Paris terrorist had been more complicated than they thought it would be. Even with Tim and Damian together investigating this part of Lila's life, there was very little to prove that she was part of it.

What led Marinette and Damian- Ladybug and Thaelab, the current situation: La Santé Prison. Where Hawkmoth, Bob Roth, was being held. She had requested visitation for the criminal with the excuse that she had a proposal for the man in exchange for information.

She reached the small room, where there were two prison guards at each corner of the wall behind Bob, and the man himself was sitting, along with the lawyer, at the only iron table in the center of the room.

Marinette wasted no time in sitting on the available chair across the table, Damian preferring to stand, leaning against the wall behind her.

"What brings the heroes of Paris to my humble residence?" Bob Roth crossed his legs, his nose held up despite his lack of power.

"I want to know about Lila Rossi." Marinette wasted no time. "I want to know about the person who was helping you to terrorize Paris."

Bob froze in his chair, his lawyer casting suspicious looks at the man. Bob probably hadn't informed him about his aide in crime.

The prisoner cleared his throat in surprise before disguising his discomfort with a disdainful pose.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Marinette raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

“Bob, please. Don't act like I’m an idiot.”

"I still don't know what you're talking about." He insisted.

Marinette sighed, getting up from the chair.

"Okay then." She said. "I thought we could negotiate a reduction in your sentence in exchange for information, but apparently I was wrong." She sighed before turning to leave. "Thaelab." And Damian pushed himself off the wall, following her.

Bob's eyes widened in a panic.

"WAIT." He called, Marinette and Damian stopping inches from the door, still not turning around. "If I tell-" The lawyer nudged him, trying to stop the man from speaking, but he ignored the warnings. “If I tell you about Lila, can you bring Xavier over to see me? I haven't seen my son since I was thrown here.”

Marinette and Damian looked at each other before nodding and returning to the table, both sitting down, their attention focused on Bob Roth.

The man sighed, shoulders slumped and looking away.

"You're right." He started. "Lila Rossi knew about Hawkmoth."

“How did she knew that? As far as we know, Lila arrived in Paris after you started terrorizing citizens. So, how?" Damian questioned.

Bob Roth looked up, his mouth in a thin line.

"Lila Rossi is my daughter." He replied. "A daughter I never wanted, but who came to my door threatening to expose everything to the press if I didn't do what she wanted."

▫▪▪

"This is what I call a plot twist." Adrien whistled, a recording of Marinette and Damian's conversation with Bob Roth playing. "She was blackmailing her own father."

"But now we can understand where she got this toxic behavior from." Chloe murmured. "Madam Rossi is a loving person despite being so busy, so I never understood how Lila could be so..." She waved her hands in the air, trying to find the right word.

"Bob?" Kagami offered confused.

"That will do." Chloe shrugged.

"But I don’t understand." Luka frowned. "If she was already blackmailing him with fatherhood, then why let her know about Hawkmoth?"

"Because if she tried to hand him over to the police, he would be able to 'prove' that Lila was helping him all this time." Tim responded easily.

"So, he set up his own daughter." Marinette shook her head, failing to understand how most of the people she knew had serious problems with their parents, while she was rainbows and flowers with hers.

"A girl he didn't even consider as a daughter." Damian pointed. “It was easy to notice the contempt in his voice as he talked about Lila. Very different from when he talked about Xavier.”

"Do we know why he wanted the miraculous?" Chloe asked.

Adrien looked up in confusion. “Oh? Didn't I tell you?” He tilted his head. “He wanted to revive Xavier's mother. His wife."

"I'm kind of sympathizing with him." Kagami winced in disgust. "But I don't want that."

"Okay, guys." Tim slammed hard against the keyboard. “The dossiers about Lila Rossi and Gabriel Agreste are ready. I think it's time for Adrien Agreste to show up.”

"It's show time, guys!"

▫▪▪

Mlle. Bustier was in the middle of an explanation when Markov started to fuss, the screen turning red and flashing "Urgent!"

Everyone looked at the little robot in alarm until he started to project a video on the green board.

It was a report by Nadja Chamack.

"We are here, in front of the police station, where Adrien Agreste was spotted entering accompanied by Sabine Cheng and Tom Dupain from the Dupain-Cheng bakery and three other lawyers." Nadja announced to the camera, in the background, the police station in evidence. With barriers to prevent the overtaking of the curious and journalists. “Adrien Agreste, who had disappeared a week ago, appeared today for the first time. He has not yet left the police station and the only information we have obtained so far is that he is filing a complaint about what motivated him to run away from home.”

Nadja's image was replaced by a recording of Adrien getting out of a black car with tinted windows, accompanied by Sabine and Tom - Marinette's parents -, two men and a serious-looking woman wearing suits and with a leather briefcase in her hands.

Adrien seemed far from the model image that Bustier's students were used to.

There were dark circles under his eyes, eyes that were bloodshot. The blond hair that was once shiny and silky was dull and coarse. There was an abnormal pallor in the boy's skin.

The clothes he wore were atypical. A huge hoodie, sweatpants and sneakers. Black from end to end.

Tom and Sabine were on either side of the boy, trying their best to protect him from flashes and questions, before the police finally showed up escorting them into the police station.

Filming went back to Nadja.

“As you can see, Adrien Agreste gave no statement and we had no news from Gabriel Agreste or his staff. My name is Nadja Chamack and I will be back with more information.”

The projection was cut off abruptly, the entire class in shocked silence before they jumped out of chairs, loud and confused voices. Everyone trying to understand what the hell was going on.

Sabrina was the only compound, her eyes sharp on Lila Rossi who was strangely quiet, with a sticky glow on her skin.

Sabrina was sure that if she looked Lila in the eye, she would see the dread there.

▫▪▪

"How did they find out that Adrien was going to the police station?" Tim asked confused.

"Nadja is a close friend of the Dupain-Cheng family." Damian replied disinterestedly. "Sabine contacted her and with the promise of an exclusive and Nadja alerted fellow journalists to Adrien's testimony."

Tim frowned even more confused.

“But wouldn't it be better if no one knew that Adrien was back? For us to have the trump card.”

"I thought so too, but apparently the first image of Adrien's return would have to be shocking." The boy crossed his arms. "The image of Adrien Agreste at the bottom of the well, being the first to be published in the press, to pave the case against Gabriel and Lila."

Tim winced at the harsh words.

“Wow, wasn't that a little too much? Expose Adrien like this...”

"It was his idea, actually."

"... Despite everything that's going on, Adrien manages to keep his head cool enough to think that way." Tim murmured. “I am amazed and proud. I don't know which one stands out the most.”

▫▪▪

The disclosure that Adrien had appeared was not just to spread the boy's defeated image. Of course not. Marinette would not be insensitive to such a way of letting Adrien expose himself as harshly as if he were on a freak show.

No. That had also been bait.

They knew that as soon as Gabriel found out that Adrien was back and accompanied by Marinette’s parents, it wouldn’t take long for him to break into Dupain-Cheng bakery and distribute threats about what he could or couldn’t do if they didn’t hand Adrien back to him.

Which didn't take long to happen.

After the news that Adrien had left the police station without giving a statement of what had happened, Gabriel didn't take long to appear at Sabine and Tom's door. Natalie, Gorilla - who had an expression of sadness - and two men who were supposed to be for frighten Marinette's family, but that did not have the expected effect.

“Good evening, M. Agreste. To what do I owe the honor of this most dignified visit?” Sabine asked. The mocking tone of her voice did not go unnoticed by anyone.

Man, he had the guts. The bakery was surrounded by journalists and he still had the audacity to appear as if he were the queen of England.

"Where is my son?" Gabriel asked, his entire posture showing contempt. “I hope you are aware that I will be filing a complaint for kidnapping and private imprisonment. Your daughter lied to two policemen and you and your husband covered it up.”

Tom, who was comfortably seated on the sofa, looked up. The expression on his face was very different from what he normally had.

"Kidnapping? Are you sure about that, Gabriel?” Tom asked. "I want you to think very carefully about your next words."

Gabriel snorted in offense.

"What else would it be when my son goes missing for a week and your daughter lies saying she doesn't know his whereabouts?"

“How about: harassment, attempted rape, cover-up, exploitation of child labor, neglect, gaslighting...? There are a number of things I could also suggest here, but it is better to leave that for trial day.” Marinette finally spoke, rising from the sofa and approaching the door. Approaching Gabriel.

Natalie gasped, fury shining in her eyes. "What are you talking about you-"

“If I were you, I would keep the poisonous tongue in my mouth if I don't want to lose it, Mlle. Sancoeur. I personally don't like violence, but if it's necessary I wouldn't mind teaching you some good lessons.” Sabine said, there was a sweet smile on the woman's face.

"What is this story about trial?" Gabriel demanded.

That was when Katherine Spencer, one of the lawyers Bruce had made available to defend Adrien, rose from the dinner table. She had insisted on staying at the Dupain-Cheng house, since the likelihood of Gabriel showing up to take Adrien and threatening them, was high.

"M. Agreste?” She asked. "I have some documents that should be of interest to you."

"And who would you be?" Gabriel raised his eyebrow, snobbish.

"Oh, sorry for my lack of manners." Katherine opened the leather briefcase and took a business card out of one of the smaller pockets, before handing it to Gabriel. "I'm Katherine Spencer, one of Adrien's lawyers."

Gabriel looked at Katherine and the paper, disbelieving what he read and heard.

"It says here that you are part of the Wayne conglomerate...?" He said, bewildered.

Katherine smiled, probably enjoying the effect it had on Gabriel.

"Yes, Marinette and Adrien are very close to the Wayne family, so when Mr. Wayne heard about Adrien's situation, he sent three of his best lawyers to help." She replied, the smile never failing.

With that, she opened the leather briefcase again, taking a wad of papers from the largest pocket, before handing them out to Natalie, who took more by reflex. And then she handed Gabriel a single paper.

The man's eyes grew a few inches after reading the biggest words on the paper and Katherine used this as permission to continue her speech.

"As you can see, this is an immediate restraining order." She nodded. “You and any Gabriel employee, whether personal or from your brand, including models, may not contact Adrien Agreste by any means possible. Otherwise, the police may be called.”

“But-but Adrien is Gabriel's face! My main model!”

Katherine nodded as if she understood the man's indignation.

"As you can see a little further down in that document, Adrien is indefinitely prohibited from working under the Gabriel brand until the investigation and trial are over."

"Investigation? Trial? What the hell are you talking about?” Natalie asked, looking more and more irritated.

Katherine stared at the woman without reaction.

“Adrien, Mlle. Sancoeur, was sexually harassed and nearly raped by a classmate who coincidentally also works for Gabriel.” Natalie gasped in horror. "All of this under the roof of his own home, with the permission of his own father."

"That- no-" Natalie babbled. Behind her, Gorilla had his hand over his mouth, a greenish tinge to his skin.

“I'm afraid it's true, Mlle. Sancoeur. There is testimony and evidence about it. " Katherine sighed heavily. “Today Adrien went to give his testimony again, so that there would be no reasonable doubts and then we got the restraining order. Now you must go.” She waved her hands. "There can be no contact between Agreste and Adrien."

▫▪▪

Not surprisingly, when Lila received her restraining order, she freaked out.

The girl tried with all her strength to make herself a victim, even going so far as to give an interview to a local TV channel - less famous than Nadja's, but which attracted everyone's attention because Adrien's name was involved - telling what supposedly happened.

Madam Rossi was next to her daughter, both sitting on a sofa in what should have been Lila's house, while the girl cried copiously in a false way, telling how Adrien Agreste had attacked her at a business dinner. That he just didn't go any further because they heard a strange noise coming from the main floor, so Adrien ran for fear of being caught.

▫▪▪

Adrien's fans ate Lila for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

▫▪▪

It wasn't long before she also showed up at the bakery with the mask of a good girl being wronged. Demanding that Adrien withdraw the restraining order because it was destroying their relationship.

She looked more and more insane.

When Sabine took the girl upstairs to their home, Lila thought she had finally managed to get away with it. Only to come face to face with Marinette Dupain-Cheng and another frankly scary boy - he had a horrible scowl and a murderous look - sitting as if they were waiting for her.

Lila looked around expecting to see Adrien, but there were only the two of them there. Sabine soon returned to the lower floor.

“Hello, Lila. What are you doing here?" Marinette asked curiously, a cup of tea in hand.

"Where is he, Dupain-Cheng?" She spat, not bothering to act. Marinette wouldn't believe a word she said.

Marinette raised her eyebrow in surprise.

"He?"

“Don't be stupid, Marinette. Everyone knows that Adrien is hiding here like a coward after he ran away from home.”

"Don't you mean after you tried to rape him?" The scary boy asked. That was when Lila noticed the oriental sword leaning against the side of his chair. Unsheathed.

“I didn't do that! He's just confused!” She stammered.

"I don't know Lila..." Marinette tilted her head innocently. "Blackmailing someone for... sex, also falls into the category of rape."

Lila swallowed a sigh, surprised that Marinette knew the details. She believed that Adrien had told only the basics, trying to keep his furry secret out of the spotlight. Lila had plans to use this surprise factor to her advantage, but apparently Adrien was playing to win.

"Don't be surprised, Rossi." The boy said again. "Don't think you're the hunter here."

"What-"

"With that, I want you to meet someone formally." Marinette said nonchalantly. "Plagg."

And Adrien's kwamii appeared, incredibly scary for such a small and generally cute, creature.

“Hello sausage. We have a matter to discuss.” He said, his voice resonating on the walls of Marinette's house and Lila backed away in alarm.

She needed to get out of there as soon as possible.

▫▪▪

“There, pigtails! Her memory of me is erased, but I haven't erased the attempt to... Anyway! I'm going back to the house of your murderous boyfriend, Adrien promised to watch the lion king with me with a lot of camembert.”

"Thank you, Plagg."

▫▪▪

For the interview with Nadja Chamack, Adrien decided that the best place for this interview would be in the place where he felt most secure. The Dupain-Cheng house, on Marinette's balcony.

There were only Nadja and Adrien in the camera frame, but Tom, Sabine, Luka and Marinette were in the background, along with the cameraman, in the form of support.

"Thank you for granting us this exclusive, Adrien." Nadja smiled. "I know it shouldn't be easy to sit here and relive everything, especially now with Lila Rossi's recent interview."

Adrien nodded, he looked more composed than the first time he appeared on cameras at the police station, but it was still possible to see how puffy his eyes were and how thin he had become.

He was having a hard time keeping food in his stomach.

“Thank you, Nadja. It has been a difficult time for me, but with the support that I have received from my family, I remain strong on this journey.”

"This is very good to hear Adrien." Nadja nodded before speaking again. “Could you tell us what actually happened? Many of your fans believe that Lila's statements were false. What's your version of it all?”

"Well..."

▫▪▪

This time the witch hunt version Gabriel Agreste and Lila Rossi had tripled in strength, because in addition to Adrien's fans, parents who were outraged by Gabriel's behavior and artists who knew Adrien for the sweet and kind boy he was, protested.

They demanded that Gabriel and Lila to be thrown in jail and the key forgotten at the bottom of the seine.

▫▪▪

Both were arrested the day after the interview.

Gabriel got provisional release, of course. Such a rich man would not be arrested if he could do something about it.

Lila, on the other hand, had to wait for the trial in a juvenile detention center, even though Madam Rossi had tried everything she could to keep the girl from being taken away.

▫▪▪

On the day of Gabriel's trial, the press was in full force in front of the Palace of Justice, wanting an exclusive or some pronouncement from Gabriel, because since Adrien's interview, the man has remained strangely quiet.

The court was packed. The Mlle. Bustier’s class by weight had attended the man's trial. They were all sitting in the right hall, behind where Gabriel's group of lawyers was sitting.

Only Nino and Sabrina who were on the left. Nino was sitting in the front, as close to Adrien as possible.

He was happy that Gabriel was finally getting what he deserved, but also sad that Adrien had to go through hell for this to finally happen.

Sabrina was content to sit next to Chloe and Kagami.

The Wayne family had also attended, all wanting to show support for Adrien in this difficult time. Leaving the Super family to look after Gotham while they were away.

There were also curious people, some people from Adrien's fan club, some parents of Mlle. Bustier's students and accredited reporters like Nadja.

The stage was set and Gabriel was the main character.

The defense attorney had taken the route of trying to turn Gabriel into a victim of Lila's manipulations, which might have been true to some extent, but that made no difference when Gabriel was a terrible father. And such awful person.

He had no excuse for that, because it was obvious that Emillie was the only one of the two who really took care of her son and that it ended when she died.

To say that it was satisfactory when Katherine tore him up in front of the audience, jury and judge Lahiffe - Nino's mother - did not come close to the real feeling that the miraculous team felt.

When Gabriel was found guilty... Well, it wasn't Marinette's fault the shout of celebration they let out.

Thirty years in prison and a ban on any attempt to contact Adrien.

▫▪▪

Adrien later that day, discovered that the Dupain-Cheng were officially applying for guardianship.

He still had two years to reach legal age and as Gabriel and neither Emillie had close family, Adrien would enter the system. What Sabine and Tom Dupain-Cheng would not admit.

Adrien was already part of the family.

▫▪▪

The miraculous team was amused to realize that every time someone called Adrien Agreste, he would correct it by saying it was Adrien Dupain-Cheng now. With his chest puffed out like a peacock spreading feathers.

▫▪▪

Mlle. Bustier's class and even the teacher herself tried to contact Adrien or any of the three - Adrien, Marinette and Chloe -, but every attempt was thwarted by Tom.

Adrien needed time and he couldn't do that with a group of curious and insensitive teenagers buzzing in his ear.

▫▪▪

Lila's trial had been less of a show and more of a funeral.

She appeared in court accompanied by prison guards, her hands and feet handcuffed and typical prisoner clothing, but what attracted the most attention about the girl was her short hair. Navigating between a pixie and a mullet.

Adrien shifted uncomfortably in his chair next to Katherine, looking confusedly at Marinette.

He knew that Marinette was watching every step Lila took, even in the detention center, so she was probably aware of this sudden change in Lila's appearance. But she never said anything to him.

(Of course Marinette said nothing. She knew that if she told Adrien that other girls in the detention center - his fans - had taken revenge on the Italian girl for what she did, Adrien would feel guilty. Even if Lila deserved a lot worse than a simple bad haircut.)

As the trial passed, everyone there was certain that Lila was being judged just because she was a terrible human being who doesn't know how to hear no; but when Katherine was getting more and more evidence out of her briefcase, everyone started to understand that Lila was much worse than they thought.

Madam Rossi had hyperventilated three times before the big revelation that Lila helped Bob put terror in Paris. So, when the man came in as a witness against Lila and told the whole truth, the woman fell hard against the wooden bench.

She had to be carried out of court.

▫▪▪

There was no deliberation.

Lila was immediately found guilty.

She got a life sentence with no chance of parole.

▫▪▪

"How are you feeling, chaton?" Marinette asked, fingers dancing over his blond hair.

“Relieved, sad and tired. And also happy.” Adrien replied, his face buried in the girl's neck.

The two had built a fort on Marinette's balcony, enjoying the clear skies and warm night. Trying to disconnect from everything and everyone.

Adrien was curled over Marinette's body, grabbing the girl as if she were his lifeline and Marinette had her arms around him, her fingers playing with the blond hair on the back of his neck.

“I know it has been difficult, that it is a lot to assimilate, but I want you to know that I will always be here for you. Always." Marinette whispered. "I will never let my kitten suffer again."

Adrien sniffed, arms tightening Marinette even more.

“Thank you, Mari. I'm very lucky to have met you.”

BONUS #1:

"I was thinking here..." Adrien looked up from where he was kneading the dough, drawing Marinette's attention across the table decorating cupcakes.

"Yes?" She murmured, the tip of her tongue dangling in concentration.

"If you're going to pursue a career in the fashion world, who's going to take care of the bakery business?" He looked away, his cheek starting to turn a lovely red. "Sabi-Mom and dad won't have a lifelong willingness to take care of the business, so who's going to do it for them?"

Marinette placed the cupcake on the table, looking at Adrien seriously.

"Adrien, be direct and say what you are thinking."

"I-"

"I think Adrien is trying to say that he wants to become a full-time baker, isn't that cupcake?" Luka asked, appearing out of nowhere behind the blond boy and kissing the reddened cheek.

Adrien squeaked in surprise, almost dropping the dough off the counter.

"Luka!" He scolded. “Don't scare me like that! And don't call me a cupcake!”

"Sweetie?"

"Sweetie either!"

Marinette rolled her eyes at them both.

Luka, after he started his relationship with Adrien, seemed to discover new parts of himself that he was previously unaware of.

Like being hopelessly in love and endless flirting.

It was disgusting.

"Okay, you two stop." She got attention. “The two of you flirting is disgusting. Too much sugar for my system.”

Adrien snorted, offended, Luka just winked boldly.

Marinette ignored them both.

"But if that's the case, I don't think dad would mind Adrien." She continued. “He will probably be very happy, actually. God knows how that man tried with all his might to develop my interest in baking full-time, but he never succeeded.”

Adrien smiled, lighting up like a Christmas tree.

"Do you really think?!"

"Of course." She nods. "Best of all, we have some of the best pastry schools here in Paris, in case you don't want to leave."

"Who's leaving?" Damian came into the kitchen looking like he was still asleep.

He and Luka had spent the night at the Dupain-Cheng house after a double date for horror movies with lots of buttered popcorn and sugary drinks.

It was supposed to be a slumber party with everyone, but Kagami had taken Chloe and Sabrina on a date; Nino was on Chris' nanny duty and Damian's brothers, who had arrived in Paris that night, preferred to stay home to recover from the jetlag.

So, it was just the four of them. And they managed to get to half of Annabelle before they passed out in the dreamland.

Marinette and Adrien just waking up when Tom passed the room to go down to the bakery, Luka and Damian sleeping heavily.

"No one. Mari was explaining to Adrien that he is more than welcome to continue the family business while she reigns in the fashion world.” Luka handed him the coffee mug.

"Amen." Damian murmured, planting a kiss on the girl's forehead before swallowing half of the black coffee at once.

"He looks so much like his brother when he does that." Said Adrien, remembering the time he had slept on the sofas at Wayne Manor and woken up with Tim sipping a huge mug of black coffee as if he were drinking water.

Marinette snorts with amusement.

"I always say that, but he never takes me seriously."

Damian frowned unhappy with the comments, but said nothing, seeing Sabine open the door with a tray of cookies in her hand.

"Look what just came out of the warm oven!"

Marinette smiled, her eyes on Adrien who had run to the woman, trying to help her with the tray even though she didn't need to. He was blushing adorably for the attention Sabine was giving him.

She was happy that Adrien was finally getting the attention and love he deserved.

BONUS #2:

Marinette was sitting in a small, but wonderful, restaurant with Leon.

Leon whom Adrien affectionately called Gorilla and who of everyone in that house, took care of Adrien as much as he could.

He was also the only one to respect the restraining order - since he still worked for the Gabriel and Gabriel brand - when others believed it was just a means of scaring.

Marinette knew that the man was a good person, that he really liked Adrien and that he had been blaming himself for a while now, for what had happened.

"How's he doing?" Leon asked, his voice disproportionately small for such a large body.

Marinette smiled; the pasta dish forgotten in favor of the man.

“Getting better." She answered sincerely. “There are more good days than bad, there are words that we have to avoid at all costs because of the trigger, but Adrien is doing well. Therapy is helping a lot.”

Leon looked down, a shy smile on his face.

“Is he still going to school? I know how much he enjoyed having a normal life. Or as normal as possible.”

"Yes, mom and dad transferred him to the lycée that I'm attending with Chloe and Kagami." Marinette nodded. "Things at Dupont were inconceivable to him."

Leon looked at her again. “I'm glad he found people he could trust, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette snorted, amused. “Please, Leon. Just Marinette.” She stared at the man, holding his gaze. "He misses you, you know?"

Leon's jaw dropped in surprise.

"Don't be so surprised!" She laughed. "It is true. You were the only person he really felt close to in that place and who never hurt him.”

"Oh..." Leon looked away.

"You should come to dinner with us sometime." Marinette continued. "Now that you no longer work for Gabriel, there is no restraining order to stop you."

"I-"

"Not to mention that we need someone trained to help us when Adrien's fans and journalists get really aggressive." She said innocently before drinking water.

Leon froze in surprise, incredulous at what he heard. Until a sincere smile opened on the man's face.

"Okay."

"Yea?" Marinette asked hopefully.

"Yes."

Leon watched the tiny girl wave her arms happily, not caring about the amused looks and laughter she attracted.

Maybe it was a good start for him too.

#lukadrien #maribat #daminette #kagami x chloe x sabrina #ml salt #lila rossi salt #lila bashing #gabriel agreste salt #gabriel bashing #potentially triggering #miraculous ladybug

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ecrivant · 3 years

Text

under the yoke | porco galliard

(porco galliard x reader)

an exploration of porco’s life after the warriors leave for paradis, told through a collection of vignettes.

word count: 2.8k

He sat, crumpled, clutching a hand which bore bloodied and broken knuckles, unfeeling. His white clothes, once pristine and perpetually ironed and representative of honor and heroism and potential, were now marred by redness. Covered in the eviscerated gore and dermis which, from his forelimb, surged. The hole in his bedroom door, framed by splintered wood and dressed with remnants of that same sanguinary amalgam. The air, once tenanted by irate bellows and gesticulation, stood oppressively still. Occupied, now, only by his swallowed sobs. From the window: the muffled, revelatory sounds of the Warrior commemoration ceremony one street over; and he, in his room, washed in the quiet, aching aftermath of ebullition. Another roar, hoarse, abraded, a guttural eruption. He launched forward in an attempt to lash out, again—at the door, the wall, himself—but his legs buckled beneath him and his palms, outstretched by instinct to catch his exhausted form, scraped against the floor, leaving bloody trails in their wake. His corporeal pain, once numbed by rage, now crept along skin and burrowed into bone, and he cradled his own form, laid fetal, and wailed. A prolonged, cathartic cry which propagated another, and another, until his lungs burned, raw and void of breath, and head thrummed, and soreness and anguish within him suffused. From outside the window, a cheer; within, cries, spates of ‘why’s,’ directed at no one. The Armored Titan, squandered—his own failure from which he already imbibed such abject and indefinite nemesism. His mouth tore open in a disfigured cry; no sound emitted. A breathless, silent whine; vision blurred by tears.

Sight and sound dissolved as blood poured from his wounds, relentless. Numbness returned—he remarked from afar the peaceful exit from his own body. He was vaguely aware of his door slamming against the wall as it opened. His name, a hazy and distant vocalization, repeated, urgent. A violent shaking of his body. On his cheek, a soft touch. He maybe saw your face. Concerned, no, fearful eyes. His own voice, thick in his throat, pathetic and begging and desperate:

“Please just let me die.”

The tremors of footsteps on wood, of weak limbs. Then his brother, his mother. You. The vague feeling of being lifted to his feet, of being stripped of his clothes, of being laid on the bed. A cloth, cold on tender skin.

Marcel’s embrace.

Sleep so abnormally dreamless and pitch that he was sure he had died, pervaded by a feeling of absence.

He awoke in the darkness of night and felt he was not alone. Eyes adjusting, he saw one body in a chair next to him, another in his brother’s bed. His entirety complained, aching. A low groan escaped him. The one in the chair stirred at the sound and eyed him in the dark. He could all but see the scrutinizing gaze. A grip on his uninjured hand, squeezing. His brother’s whispered apology.

Marcel rose from his seat and roused the other, who groggily sat up and listened for a moment before rushing over to the bed. Another hand in his, this time soft and un-calloused, and timid. He, now acclimated to the dark of the room, saw your scrunched face and teary eyes and quivering lip. You bowed your head to hide them, instead bringing his hand to your forehead, still trembling. As if in mourning.

“Let him sleep.”

A gentle command, for your sake and not his. He wished for you to embrace him but could not bring himself to say it.

—

He woke to his mother’s insistence that they see Marcel off. He first thought of you.

“Mom, don’t make him go.”

He felt his brother approach his bed, slow, timid. A kiss on his temple. A whispered promise:

“I’ll be home soon.”

—

He staggered as he climbed out of bed. The bandages on his hand and forearm, the hole in the door—ugly reminders of his abortion. Weak fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. Fresh blood seeped through the gauze around his knuckles, spreading over the fibrous surface like a creeping, infective redness.

He made it to the port just as the boat undocked and withdrew from the shore. He saw you in the crowd, hand excitedly waving in the air as if a flag enlivened by breeze.

He returned home and undressed himself and laid back in bed and closed his eyes just as his mother reentered the house and forthwith tended to her sleeping child’s wounds.

—

A knock at his door.

“Porco? It’s Pieck and Zeke.”

“Tell them I’m alright.”

His mother bit her lip before shutting his door again.

He did not wish to see them, though he thought of them each day. Becoming less like people and more like deformed effigies begotten from his own envious thoughts. Though a given, since the beginning, that Zeke would claim the Beast Titan, he considered that he could have inherited Cartman. A moment of clarity told him Pieck was more than deserving of her inheritance, and he flushed with guilt. The candidacy, Reiner, they had made him so spiteful.

Still, he did not wish to see them.

Another knock at the door. He repressed the annoyance that flared in his chest.

“Yes?”

He could not help the edge that slipped through.

His eyes widened when you stuck your head around the door. Eyes asking for permission to enter. He moved to make room for you on his bed, granting it. Mattress dipping as you sat. Your hands gently turned his injured arm in inspection—its gauzy covering now gone and replaced by a dusting of red-rimmed scabs and pale, white scars. The haphazard gash in his wrist nearly but a memory. The touch, gentle, nearly imperceptible. Again feeling guilty, as he had not thought of you in weeks, though you should have been the first to which he turned. Your non-affiliation with the Warriors was something he unknowingly craved. Soft fingers grazed his arm and the sillage of your scent hung in the air, calming him. He needed your touch, a same and even greater need than that night before the Warriors’ departure.

You did not speak and instead wrapped your hands around his. Heedful of his injuries. Even in the dim candlelight of the room, a ray of moonlight flooded through the window and struck his floor—an expansive stain of red, impossible to fully remove, illuminated. You gazed at him, sad, as if you pitied him. He wished he had not seen it, perhaps he was not meant to, and he asked you to leave before he could suppress his anger. He spurned your pity.

You were surprised but not hurt: instead, he was met with a melancholic look, one of understanding. As you walked out, shutting the door behind you, he wished you had been hurt—he envied your emotional control, your empathy. Hot tears spilled from his eyes, and they blurred his view of you leaving the front stoop and walking down the street, swallowed by the night.

He grabbed his pillow and hurled it at the wall. It landed with a dull thump. If he was anything like you, he could have controlled his anger and kept you with him. Spent the night in your presence. He gritted his teeth and slammed back onto the mattress, taking notice of the missing cushion. He rolled to the side and slept without it.

—

He could not say when he finally rescinded the grudge he held against Pieck and Zeke. He began talking to them again, finally caving on his self-imposed strike after realizing he was lonely, but it felt more like a return out of necessity. He was not sure he truly missed their companionship; though dulled, the spite and anger and jealousy were all still present.

At the same time, he immersed himself further into Marley’s all-encompassing military-industrial complex. Endearing himself to Magrath. Continuing his training. Helping where he could. As if to fulfill some sick, vicarious fantasy where he was a Warrior, as well, only left behind with Pieck and Zeke. The schmoozing felt insincere, dirty, yet he continued, to what end? He was worse than Reiner—a fucking ass-kisser with no goal in sight. Subconsciously aware his constant exposure to Marleyan army affairs only exacerbated and prolonged the pain of his failure.

“Why still be involved?”

He frowned at your question—a large part of him assumed you would support him, regardless. At least support him based on the fact it was somehow comforting for him, a twisted form of self-actualization. He narrowed his eyes as you continued.

“Maybe it’s better this way. You—”

You cut yourself off, hesitant. He urged you to say your piece, an edge in his voice.

“If you’re not a Warrior, you can live a long life.” With me, the implicit addendum. He ignored it, quiet long enough that you felt emboldened to continue.

“Sometimes this war, it feels so pointless.”

Faced with futility. Your extrapolated silver lining. Something repressed urged him to give in, to agree. Whether flaccid will or a desire to live with you, he could not be sure. You had always felt so nice.

Though he could not, could never, bring himself to despise you, he convinced himself to despise the words you spoke.

“What are you, a fucking pacifist now?”

You shrunk away, the vitriol in his voice, a disarming blow. To serve Eldians was his life’s purpose, and you were meant to support him indefinitely, it being in your nature. You began to speak, but he ignored it. Anger flaring. The more he thought on it, the easier you became to hate. All the years he had known you, you were nothing but a backgrounded entity. His very antithesis. Your affinity for pacifism was no surprise to him—it was very much like you to sit to the side and wish for things to happen instead of taking it upon yourself to actualize them. You moved through life without purpose, a passive body with no real substance. It was a wonder he had ever liked you at all.

“You know it should have been me. I should have been the one to go to Paradis, not Reiner.”

The hurt in your eyes urged him forward, though, in hindsight, he wondered if it was your own hurt, or hurt for him, which shone in your gaze. A sadness, pity, that he could not let go of his apparent past transgression, could not overcome his own self-hatred. Were there truly many differences between you?

He lashed out once more, another jab. A sadistic self-projection.

“How can you live a life so devoid of purpose and meaning? Don’t tell me what I should and shouldn’t do. I was meant to be a Warrior for humanity, so that’s what I’ll do. And I don’t care how I get there.”

He flinched, less at the words and more at the way some form of the truth so willingly poured from his mouth. Quiet, eerily pervasive. A surge of guilt in the pit of his stomach. Like bile. Your tears stung his throat.

“Never would humanity’s true savior be so selfish.”

You stood and turned at the heel and strode off, quickly wiping at your eyes. It was his turn to be winded by your words.

—

He slammed his fist against your front door, rapid and repeated like a heartrate. Your father answered and saw the raw desperation in his eyes and led him to your room. He opened the door and collapsed before he reached you. Spoken through choked sobs—the pain, cotton forced down his throat:

“Marcel is dead.”

Your arms were around him as if your last shared moment, at this point years ago, was not one of bitter vitriol. He, eviscerated by guilt and all but gutted on the floor before you. Your unrelenting sympathy, so willing to forgive his malignity—to think you had nothing but love to give in return for his spite. You held him unflinchingly as he disintegrated in your arms. Unafraid to shoulder the weight of his tangible unraveling. He thought of that moment years ago, alone in his room, bleeding out, a result of his own rage, and realized true pain was nothing like it. To be so utterly excavated by grief and pain that your own form has no choice but to erode into itself. His screams caught in your shirt. He bit down on the fabric, tasting blood.

He lied in your bed that night and felt nothing. Your touch, once so verily craved, was unaffecting. Still, you ran your hands along his sides and caressed the shapely variations of his form, and you pressed your lips to his neck and back, and he allowed you to straddle him and kiss his face and chest and arms and endeavor to extract his pain through your ghostly contact. He knew you felt nice, even if he himself could not tell. Your comfort reached him and dissolved on contact, yet he still indulged and met your touch with his own. Nevertheless unfeeling.

—

From you, he had never seen true anger. Though, when he told you he was to support Pieck in Paradis, he saw it—it was quiet, nothing like his violent, external fulminations. Instead, your stare held unprecedented intensity, some amalgam of rage and fear that made him instinctively flinch; and, for once, it did not seem like selfless emotion. He sadistically reveled in the way you finally felt fear for someone other than him.

He was leaving Marley with some naïve intention of returning, to be with you upon doing so. Yet, you both knew your shared life was a moot point after his inheritance of the Jaw Titan—he had betrayed you, and in some way, his own selfish wishes. He had not matured at all, forever and always a slave to his desires. To die for Marley, you informed him, and no matter how many times he countered with his ambition to save the Eldians and salvage the remnants of his past failures, he invariably, though subconsciously, acquiesced to your position. His ultimate objective: to die for a cause.

Your anger, short-lived, ephemeral, even. It gave way to such harrowing sorrow. He wondered, as he held you, if you finally allowed yourself to cry selfishly, to cry for the death of your own desires.

You kissed him, desperately. Long and sweetly brackish from tears. He laid you down his bed, the one in which years ago he lied as well, craving your embrace in the darkness, and touched fingertips to bare skin. His despairing memorization of your body. Your breathy murmurs, tearful; yourself, a numinous beauty he sought to worship. He could not elude his adoration for you, and as you made love that night, a shared intimacy so imbued with and pervaded by heartache, he knew he would die regretful. His pain and yours, fatefully pre-written. He had always been destined for stagnation, abjection, sorrow, loss—driven by some cruel divinity and jejune, self-sacrificial desire to fulfill his own doomed fate. The cruelty of fatalism.

“Come back to me,” you had whispered.

—

In his last moments, he thought of that night. He did not deserve a final thought so pleasant. He instead thought of you presently, home in Liberio, waiting for his promised return. Is this how Marcel felt, as he breathed his last breath? Did he think of his little brother to which he promised return? He all but laughed at the ironic cyclicality of life. Falco would inherit his thoughts, and his brother’s thoughts, and one day see the reality of anguish and broken promises and futile desire, perhaps on the evening of his own violent death.

—

Through his love, he also immortalized you—forcing you to live on as some perpetually degraded image and, eventually, simply an ephemeral feeling of comfort in those who would inherit his memories. He figured you would hate the thought. Part of him wished he could loose you from this eternal cycle, freeing you from his memory and thus the endless lineage of memory you would come to inhabit. Or maybe he wished for this selfishly, wanting you to be experienced by no other.

—

You would hate his last words, spoken at Reiner out of abject spite, selfish, though they were more of an assurance than anything. A closure for his younger self, whose apparent failures haunted him until this moment.

—

He wished you had not asked him to return; he wished he had not believed he would.

—

He was surprised by his own fear. As he allowed himself to be eaten, he only thought of dying. It would be too painful to think of anything else. Yet, you somehow slipped through, one final time.

—

hey, my first request! thank you @casualityrantfun for your porco suggestion! fleshing out porco’s history was honestly so much fun; exploring side characters’ arcs may be my new favorite thing. also, i’m sorry that this probably isn’t exactly what you wanted; you asked for fluff but i can’t seem to write anything that isn’t tinged with some kind of melancholia.

anyway, thank you all so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed the piece! i kind of fell in love with porco while i wrote this, so expect some more writing for him lol. feedback and constructive criticism are always appreciated!

also also, merry christmas to those who celebrate it! and regardless, i hope everyone has a great holiday weekend! xoxo <3

taglist: @flam3bird

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #attack on titan imagine #attack on titan x reader #aot imagines #aot x reader #porco galliard #galliard #porco galliard x reader #porco galliard x you #porco x reader #galliard x reader #porco galliard imagine #writing!

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antihumanism · 3 years

Text

When I type everything out as a single run-on sentence I want you to imagine me cornering you off-guard in a crowded room, my empty brown cow eyes staring straight at you and reflecting you--nopony home here, she checked out and hopped away forever ago on the toxic chemical trains and clacking cattle cars years ago--and just, for no reason, I’m here and you’re there pocketed in the corner of a crowded room, and I’m channeling my alternate history past-self who was a preacher that got kicked out of the church for delivering sermons about the impossibility of sin and just ran off to Point Sur with my harem of distractions since I could never stop blessing my congregation saying “Go forth and know that you cannot sin, in the beautiful eyes of God and in my beautiful eyes there can be no wrong or evil” which backfired on me when they started setting fires and it all went to Hell, but I’ve won out over them because the world honored my wishes when I sighed “I should like to start again,” and so I’m here with you and you’re hear with me and I’m saying some insane shit like: “Looking back on Emily’s early works it is easy to see where her later reactionary turn comes from, because, from the start, Alfred Alfer was a story about the fear of castration, I mean, the first video was literally about Alfred getting neutered and escaping into a violent fantasy where he is loved and praised for his violence and the ‘punchline’ establishes the general theme of ‘reality by despair,’ which is to say that Alfred’s clearly dissociative episode is ‘verified’ by his destruction and it is this self-destruction that establishes ‘reality,’ like ‘pinch me i might be dreaming,’ but the pinch is violent and unfair self-destruction as hope is still ripped away, but hope remains, because it is a hope to die rather than be changed by the world, and this theme remains throughout her most famous work (the Alfred’s Playhouse trilogy which cements in canon the jokes of her previous Rise of Alfred cartoon) where Alfred is possessed by the spirits of Stalin and Hitler--a false equivalency made by the authoritarians that have passed for liberals for years--in Rise of Alfred, one would be remiss not to mention the phallic imagery in both the title and the video itself, Alfred is cut loose upon the world by the absence of a Near God or little other by the orders of a Distant God or big Other (in this video played by a droning and irrelevant corporate figure that can offer nothing more than a wall without lead paint that one can lick), and this is the essence of reactionary thought, the idea of a big Other who is totally incompetent yet all powerful and somehow worth respecting and suffering for (King Henry II saying ‘will no one rid me of this troublesome priest’ or the departed Daiymo of the 47 Ronin), the reactionary sees the big Other as a master who can only set the dogs off the chain, the police chief who needs to get out of the way so McBain or Dirty Harry or Paul Kersey (especially in Death Wish III) can do what needs to be done and purge away all the filth and make the world right again (no different than Rambo--even the first movie, which for all of it’s goods part still is reactionary propaganda bullshit pushing the fascist lies about a ‘fifth column’ that was rude to poor little meow meow war criminals--or modern day fantasies about nuking all of MENA until it glows green (fantasies delivered to raucous applause at Republican presidential conventions); the reactionary is perpetually trapped in this fantasy of destroying the world and escaping into the void of space, freed of the ground where the riff-raff are so they don’t have to negotiate life with their neighbors, and this is true, yes, even of people who spout bullshit about Fully Automated Luxury Communism who only want the right to consume as much as possible free of guilt--a condition they think is inflicting upon them by the big Other--as the Champagne of Shame Socialists of the 60s), and the righting of the world for the reactionary is just that, that the world must be Righted and the reactionary must be loved for all of their violence and because of their violence, for the reactionary finds themselves ever needing new excuses as they open new fronts in their fake, phony Culture War, and that is all they need (excuses), which is why Emily is so obsessed with justifying her edgy shit based on some Trauma (which is handy excuse to do Anything, even Things that Cannot Be Excused like war or self-harm or wanting to be seen), and so here you should already be able to hear so much madness, so many plaintive cries, all aligning around the same point (the trannies in the ‘wrong’ bathroom, the refugees in the ‘wrong’ country, the people in the ‘wrong’ neighborhood, the Jewish Question, etc), and, anyway, so in Rise of Alfred, Emily’s OC directly addresses the audience and tells them that they must love him/her--the castrated bitch desperate to be let off the leash--and in Alfred’s Playhouse she/he simultaneously affirms and denies the nature of a trauma that justifies everything (one is constantly reminded of The Act of Killing where one of the mass murderers imagines how, depending on the editing of the final film, he could be either a woobie or a war criminal) as the Trauma is simultaneously a joke--’sodomized with a popsicle!’--and the alleged real event that motivates her self-mutilation as we’re expected to believe Emily is processing something, but what is she is processing, hmmmm, isn’t that the true spice,” I rail and rave against your poor ear drums as my empty, dead cow’s eyes capture your entire body and reflect it back at you and the ice cubes in my drink pop and shatter and dissolve and as my fist clenches tighter and tighter around the glass containing them and I continue: she’s processing a fear of castration, which is shown clearly in Alfred’s Playhouse where Alfred’s “sodomy” is demonstrated by the sight of his crotch covered in blood (a scene that will be repeated in The Alfred Alfer Movie) but “what is castration,” one might ask, and one can respond “it is the removal of power by the Father,” and this is how we wrap back around to our root in the nature of Emily the Reactionary who believes herself to be deprived of the power she holds by The Bolshevik Jew that has inserted itself between her and the Father and this is the cause of the big Other’s ineffectiveness, and this is also the core of the reactionary as a whole, the reactionary doesn’t want a daddy to control them, but a Master to set them off the chain because they hate the Father who has castrated them, this is the nature of the mumbling corporate manager in Rise of Alfred, but it is also the nature of Alfred herself--and now you may ask if Emily is trans and the answer is I literally couldn’t fucking care less about any question left forever unanswered on God’s Green Earth and you shouldn’t care either--but Alfred the Castrated is also the Father/Mother of Alfred the Dictator, the murderous inner-self that is immune to consequences of the onrushing future (The Alfred Alfer Movie) but not immune to the justifications of the imagined past (Alfred’s Playhouse trilogy), and therefore free to inflict whatever violence that Emily the Reactionary desires, and it is in pursuit of this freedom that the reactionaries set off in the name of New Sincerity (two things to be noted here: (1) the Death of Irony was proclaimed at the birth of the 21st century police state and the new Forever War with all of its genocidal objectives, that is to say, 9/11, and (2) the broken necked coward who complained of American Psycho that it’s author provided no easy outs for easy survival was the one who offed himself while Bateman’s father still lives) and the Talking Cure (i miss who we used to be), and at this you should see me slugging back the whole lukewarm glass in between two syllables and continuing on without pause (as if this dog still has legs on which to receive them in any case), “Emily, like Alex Jones, is so desperate for an excuse because neither of them can accept that they have to be the one that pulls the trigger, like all liars they don’t understand that they have to define reality by action, the answer to what one might do is found in the difference between the types of irony, one type is constantly desperate for excuses (such as the broken necked coward found one day) for violence, and the other irony, the true spice, is the irony that releases from excuses into violence and energy, one must seek not to know or endure but to inflict, knowing that this inflicting was always inevitable, no searching for justifications, instead the answer is to realize that there was never a chain there connecting you to the Master or the present to the past, and the Father/Mother never had the power of castration (the past, after all, is a foreign country bombed and blasted to ruins already and better forgotten), and you can just be fucked up and terrible and do whatever amuses you right now without needing an excuse, and to the extent that anyone should, one should, because that is what fascism needs, fascism needs the need for an excuse and that is the irony of fascism--where the falling angel (the superego) meets the rising ape (the id) in an ego of ultimate violence which seeks only release from both of its creations in an instinctually and totally misunderstood caricature of dialectics--which opposes its opposite irony (the irony without fascism which is the id’s violence against purpose and reason rising free of anything else to obstruct it), and if you let go of that, if you just, ya know, if you just, you just have to cut loose and go and no one can stop you until it is too late, because there’s no Jew sitting over your shoulder to justify everything in terms of opposition or support, not even The Nazarene is real, but do you understand that you’ve always been free to just go? You’re free to go. You’ve been free to go all this time. You never needed permission for this or anything else. You’ve been free to go all this time. You’re free to go. A whole day off. Just mind the mo(u)rning and get on with it.”

#emily youcis #Alles ist wahr Nichts ist erlaubt #let's live now before we're back below

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sunflowersseemhappy · 4 years

Note

May I please have a headcanon of the Main 6 with an MC that loves physical affection and likes to run their hands through their hair, etc.? Thank you!!

Here you go @acefangirl1 ! Thank you for the request, sorry it’s a bit messy my brain is literal mush rn. I may edit this at a later date ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, we’ll see.

Requests are still open, up next main 6 with an apprentice who’s blind.

Much love and enjoy!

Asra

Asra spent so long after your death craving your touch, sometimes he thought he felt your hand on his shoulder but all he turned around to was a silent shop. Faust helped but part of him always felt empty inside.

When he took that chance to bring you back and it worked? Gods he held you so tight, as if you would vanish at any moment.

When you came back you didn't quite understand 'hugging' but it felt good.

Asra taught you many things in the last three years, it's the main reason you are so physical in your affection. Whenever you struggled with a word he'd envelop your hand in his, and when you walked for the first time he held you just in case, and when you cried tears of frustration he would wipe them away and hug you kissing the top of your head. "You can do this; I know you can."

Your touch to him is like magic, despite any thoughts and feelings he feels in that moment your touch brings him peace and soothes his mind.

You learned quickly that Asra is a big fan of massages, as soon as your hands are rubbing firm circles against his shoulders he's melting down and sighing in relief. For someone usually so at ease he has some tension in those muscles. He insists on giving you a massage afterwards, and he loves to kiss your shoulders and the back of your neck.

You two have this thing you do while out and about together that you'll hold each other’s hands when you are thinking about each other. Asra will take many opportunities to kiss your hand while it's in his own.

When you're lying together in bed you can't keep your hands off each other, it's quite funny because Asra is constantly giggling under your touch and against your lips. It’s not that he’s ticklish, he’s just happy.

His hair is so thick that it always has tangles so you’re extra careful not to tug at it when you run your hands through his locks. Loves when your fingers tickle against his scalp and it is an instant turn on.

Nadia

That night she came to your shop and you placed your hand on her arm, guiding her in…

She’s the countess and it’s a surprise to her when you touch her with such ‘familiarity’ like the two of you are friends. But it’s oddly comforting, no one has touched her in such a manner since she awoke three months ago.

When you touched her arm Nadia’s headache stopped and her skin prickled, she was intrigued.

You’ve helped a lot since that moment, your touch a breath of fresh air as it chases away the headaches. It’s like your own practice in managing your headaches and lost memories flows into her.

On days, the two of you are working together preforming the duties in the palace you are almost constantly linked together by your arms. It’s a refined manner of physical affection that you suggested, but Nadia just likes it for how close it brings you together and how easy it is to peck you on the cheek.

During meetings and the like (when the courtiers are stressing her out) you like to place a hand on her knee soothingly and just give her the slightest smile. Almost as if to say; “I’m here.”

Nadia’s favourite thing is when you get her to rest her head in your lap, talking away as you trace her face with your fingers and loose her hair from all the ornaments and pins that held it in place. A lot of time you end up doing upside down kisses.

Being such a dominant partner Nadia likes the physical affection but can’t help but take over during more heated sessions. She’ll push you against a wall and absolutely devour your face and neck with kisses, what happens next is best left to the imagination…

Julian

He’s spent a long time on the run, seeking comfort with drink instead of with others. You may have been the first person to touch him with good intentions in many years and he is comforted. There’s something about you.

But he doesn’t want to get close, physically, or otherwise. He doesn’t want to hurt you even though he barely knows you, but you touch him, and he loses his resolve to push you away.

When you touch him, he doesn’t feel like a bad person, he just feels like himself. A part of him he thought he lost comes back when he’s with you.

Loves having his hair run through your fingers, it’s so relaxing and perfect that it will send him to sleep. He gets pouty after you use it to make him sleep because he doesn’t need sleep when he has a paper to write!

He really likes it when the two of you are snuggled up together in bed (even though he’s such an insomniac). He's all legs so the two of you are always tangled up when you're hugging. Nonetheless he really likes to lay on top of you, his torso straddled by your legs and rest his chin on your chest and look into your eyes while having a chat.

Loves your kisses but always asks for them “I’ve stolen many things Y/N but I will never steal from you.” You give him plenty of kisses, but he always wants more.

One time he complained that his hand was cramping so much it hurt so you took his hand and kissed it ‘better’. His mind instantly thought ‘more kisses?!’, now he complains about his ‘aches and pains’ all the time.

Muriel

Physical affection?! His guard was most definitely up the first time the two of you met, other than Asra he’s never quite experienced affection (even then there is minimal physical affection between them).

But he does know that Asra trusts you, Asra has told Muriel about you and how kind and good you are. Muriel trusts Asra, so maybe he can trust you too.

The first time you graze his arm he pulls tensely back, but your touch brought warmth to his skin and not pain like he had felt all those years in the Colosseum.

Once he gets used to your physical affection it’s like he’s addicted to your hugs, you hug so often they just blend together. He's a hug machine and doesn't want to stop holding you close to him.

Really likes hugging while you're on top of him. Scared to admit that he loves hugging you when he's partway on top of you, legs wrapped up and head against your chest or the crook of your neck.

One day you decided to jump and hug him from behind, impromptu piggyback ride!

Mumbles incoherently when you give him any kind of affection, you can’t tell if he’s embarrassed or pleased. More often it’s the latter.

You often pecks one of his cheeks with a kiss as you leave for the shop, but on days Muriel feels like he needs more than one he’ll pull you close and let you kiss all over his face. Then he’ll do the same to you, this may or may not have gotten him in the mood.

Further on the above, he whines when you tease him and kiss his face everywhere but his lips. One of the few times he pulls you in for a kiss

Forehead touches, that’s it. Soft, sweet, breaths mingling. Just being there with each other and feeling the world disappear.

Portia

She thinks it’s great you are so physically affectionate, the two of you are ‘affectionate’ buddies and it is an endless cycle of hugs, kisses, hand holding and more hugs.

That first day you met (after the pomegranates went everywhere) and your hand gazed her own, Portia didn’t quite realise how close the two of you would be one day, but she knew you were special!

The past few years where Julian disappeared were hard for her, other than Mazelinka she had no family to speak of around her. So, when you came along bringing physical affection reminiscent of a family member, she thought of you as such.

Physical affection with Portia is giddy and fun, you quickly found out that she really likes to be picked up and spun around (given you’re strong enough, if not she’ll be the one picking you up). Particularly after a long time apart (which for her is after a couple of hours after you last saw one another!) But how could you deny her the joy?

At particularly intimate moments the two of you just rub your noses together and giggle at the ridiculously cute sappy people you are. You’re pretty sure Portia got the idea from Pepi, who also likes to stick her face in yours.

Further to the above, after/during the time you are rubbing your noses together the two of you just messily kiss over each other’s faces. Cue getting in the mood.

Cupping each other’s faces in hands and just soul gazing, feeling breaths wash over each other and mingle, memorising the colours and patterns in each other’s eyes and feeling each blemish over smooth skin. Portia can’t remember her parent’s faces, but no matter what she wants to remember yours.

Loves to just snuggle up and read/sew/or do another homey activity together. You two are close together and get to chat, its terribly mundane but Portia really enjoys it because your head is in her lap and she gets to watch you do something you enjoy while also doing the same thing herself. She imagines it to be something her mother would have done with her.

Lucio

That day you used the blood magic to make him semi-corporeal, he was just about ready to admit defeat and just do the most reckless s**t as a not-ghost to entertain himself.

But when you, the first person in three years to notice him and then touch him, did so he almost lost his mind. He didn’t think he missed physical affection that much, but your touch was better than all his imaginings of eating until he passed out or throwing that huge party he had been planning.

It was a special moment for him, he’s so glad you walked into the palace that day.

Just the simple act of hand holding is what Lucio loves most. It is a must have during his day, reminding him he is finally alive and here. Reminding him that you, you wonderful, amazing person stood by him and helped him be better.

That said he always holds your hand with his real arm, once time when you tried to hold his prosthetic hand the sharp fingers stabbed you in the palm. Even when the sharp plates are off, he’s very wary of holding your hand. You can tell he’s still very sorry, he’s still trying to make up for it.

He loses his mind (there’s a lot of that) when your big spoon him and kiss along his back, shoulders, and neck. He feels protected and vulnerable at the same time and it’s such a jumble of conflicting emotions he can’t help but get in the mood.

Plays footsie with you anytime anywhere, during dinner, meetings, in bed… It’s like a game and whoever wins gets to have the other do whatever they want *wink, wink*. He ‘let’s you win a lot’.

You once took the lead during a slow dance and he was didn’t even complain, so long as your hands are on him… He will let you dip and twirl him all night long.

#the arcana #lucio #asra #muriel #nadia #portia #julian #apprentice #julian devorak #arcana #story #prompts #requests #ask

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bigfan-fanfic · 3 years

Note

Who is Batdad closest to outside Wayne manor? Does he have much of a life outside of the Wayne's? Who would Batdad consider his closest friends besides his family?

Honestly, Batdad doesn’t have much of a life outside of the Waynes. He doesn’t really have anyone other than the League to talk to. Clark would probably be his closest friend outside of his family because in a lot of ways they are similar.

Okay, let me talk about this. ( I came back up and decided to answer more concisely above and put this under a read more because it’s very, very long, and I cried three times while writing it and I have never had any visceral reaction to what I write ever before... oof. Just be warned if you ever feel anxiety or pressure that basically, that’s what follows)

Batdad basically denies his own wants and dreams because he wants to help Bruce. What this means is that no matter what Batdad wanted to be before (maybe he and Bruce were dating and he confessed his desire to be a writer and Bruce allowed himself the fantasy and said they’d buy an island somewhere, and Bruce would lounge on the beach and supply Batdad in kisses while he writes the best book ever), by the time Bruce gets back to Gotham from his training, Batdad has had to become what Bruce would have been if Thomas and Martha were there.

He’s a public figure and philanthropist, carrying the legacies of Martha and Thomas on his shoulders. He has to keep Martha’s business running - no, not just running, thriving - and deal with corrupt officials, corporate espionage, and greedy businesspeople all but threatening him to take Wayne Enterprises public so they can trade stock, all while making sure Thomas’ charities are well-funded and the money is actually going where it should (see earlier greed, corporate and personal). This is all while having to attend galas and functions and fundraisers and events or risk pissing off any one of these people who can turn his life into hell - missing one event can lead to being blacklisted and then that means nobody goes to a charity gala, which means that there’s no hospital built for those in the Narrows.

All this and also consider that everybody in high society sneers at you because the only reason you’re there is because you’re engaged to Bruce and you lived with him ever since Martha and Thomas died. You’re besieged on all sides, because the snobs hate you, the press wonders if you’re even qualified to run a business, and there’s always envy and hatred from below because why aren’t you doing MORE to help them? You haven’t been trained in this - your parents were upper-middle-class at best; you met Bruce by chance, so it’s just you and Alfred and this crushing, all-consuming PRESSURE and the fact that none of it is enough, you aren’t doing enough, it’ll never be enough.

Oh, and at this point, you’re probably only in your mid-twenties at the latest. And it only gets harder because Bruce is back and crime fighting and now you have to worry about him dying on patrol, so every night you’re there to assist him (sleep? don’t know her) and patch him up and support him every day even though he pretends a little too well to be a drunken boor and a cheating asshole (sometimes he isn’t even pretending) and help him when he gets frustrated and then you adopt a kid after your first day off in years (day off, what’s a day off, you haven’t slept enough since you were eighteen and Bruce left you and Batman came back but you haven’t said a word about it) and now there’s school and making sure Dick eats enough and is happy and doing good and doesn’t get overworked on patrol and stressing on whether or not Dick is okay whenever he leaves the Manor and again, none of it is ever enough.

You feel like you’re in your fifties by the time you hit thirty and the Justice League forms and that means SO much more work not just physically but emotionally because Bruce can’t meet anyone new without determining a thousand different ways to kill them if necessary (except for Talia, apparently. And Selina. And Silver Freaking St. Cloud. And Julie Morrison. And any number of dalliances Bruce has had because somehow they’re all smarter. or stronger, or maybe he just has a weakness for tall women who don’t take his crap. Is that what you do? Is your loyalty and consistency and unconditional love actually what lets Bruce walk away so often to a woman’s bed? Is it because he knows you will still be there? Is it because you have put so much of yourself into this life, into your children, into the Wayne Legacy of Perfection and Excellence that it would kill you to leave? Is it because you’re just another tool to him, one that will be quickly replaced when you succumb to sleep-deprivation, or that thing you’ve heard about in the news where people are dying from overwork so often the Japanese have a name for it, or the fact that you’re doing the work of ten, no, twenty people and not once have you ever complained to Bruce or begged him like any reasonable person would to stop this vigilante nonsense and actually LIVE), but now you have to coordinate meetings and a thousand different secret identities and make sure everything’s kosher and nobody’s fighting and of course Bruce has a beef with the nicest freaking guy in the League and Clark keeps coming to you to see if you can help them work it out.

Oh, and then there’s Talia, aka the thorn in your existence and her child who literally has tried to murder you for the crime of being married to Bruce years before he had even heard of Talia, and now on top of all the above, you have to balance getting to know the kid and be reminded day in and day out by him that you aren’t enough, that Talia has such a deeper connection to Bruce, that you are an obstacle to his happiness, that she’s so much smarter and stronger than you, that you are weak and everything you touch becomes weak and tainted by you. And not to mention that you still aren’t doing enough because Gotham’s underprivileged are screaming in pain from everything they deal with and at least you are fed and clothed and you have a family you can support and you are rich and you need to be doing MORE.

And nobody else in the League can even come close to understanding you because wow, you do so much, do you ever take a break? You come this close to crying when Oliver remarks that if he had to do that much work, he’d go back to the island he was stranded on for five years because he’s joking. For anyone else your life would be a living hell and he’s joking. How do you do so much; do you ever sleep; hah, Bruce, your husband is showing you up! And this is when they even acknowledge you, and you feel like a major-league prick for even thinking these thoughts because Bruce and the League put their lives on the line every day (oh god they’re always in danger and the stress of losing your boys - which has happened to you already - and Bruce and your friends who are the only ones you can ever actually talk to without worrying that you’ll give away someone’s identity) and you’re complaining about a little bit of paperwork? You get to go to parties and meetings while your husband fights to save lives and you’re complaining? How selfish are you? All you do, everything you do, it isn’t enough, it’s never enough, there’s always MORE MORE MORE and it never ever stops.

Jason is dead, Jason comes back, Dick is beaten within an inch of his life, the Joker kidnaps Tim and you are hanging by a thread because the last time the Joker took one of your kids and you couldn’t find them meant that there was an empty bed and too many memories but no time to grieve because Bruce threw himself into work without a care and you needed to do even MORE because you can’t lose him too. And even the League was supposed to help with this but it doesn’t because you can’t bear to lose anyone, because they’re family and not only that, the world has gotten careless because the supers will save them and crime is actually going UP somehow and if even one of the League dies, a city could be overrun by now because the police and government are all but useless and the skies are filled with supervillains and the only thing stopping the world from falling into utter disrepair is the League, and thus you. And through all of this you have to be doing better, have to be doing MORE because every new thing means all the rest of your work becomes that much harder and you haven’t slept properly in a decade now and you feel ancient but still, you can’t complain, you haven’t earned the right to complain because you are never hungry and you never go without and there are so many people who need your help and charities that depend on you to function and kids that need fatherly advice and affection and a League that needs managing and you don’t have time for a breakdown because if you’re gone for too long everything collapses and everyone you love suffers and forget about therapy because who the FUCK could you ever talk to about any of this without either revealing a hundred secret identities and putting everything at risk or sound like a whiny crybaby?

Selina and Talia are back and hovering around your husband again and they flirt with him like you don’t exist and it’s not his fault and you love him but you see Talia every day in Damian’s voice and manner and don’t even think about talking to Bruce about his infidelity because he has so many more important things to worry about and he’s already apologized profusely and anything else makes you feel selfish and you HAVEN’T SLEPT in what feels like all your life and every moment not filled with work is filled with stress about work and worry because every time you don’t see your boys is a moment they can be dead and you don’t know it and every moment Bruce isn’t at the Watchtower is another moment Lex Luthor has to enact some horrifiying plan or the Joker gets ahold of a nuclear weapon or something else unforseeably terrible happens and it is TOO MUCH but you still need to be doing MORE because it isn’t enough and you aren’t enough and nothing is ever enough.

Is there even a you anymore? There used to be a kid there who just wanted to help his friend when he lost his parents. A kid who got left behind to stay with that friend. A teenager with dreams and hopes and wishes and a sweet boyfriend who could maybe get past his grief and lead a good life with you. A young man with the chance to stop his lover from leaving, to stay with him and not give in. Where did he go? Is he still there, underneath the years? Or is he gone, and this being made of stress and fear and feelings of inadequacy and stifled complaints and sadness gone unsaid and trauma left to fester all that you are? That kid you once were gets further and further away with everything you do to help, every time you keep silent because what good would it do to scream the way you want to, the way you’ve needed to for so many years but never let yourself?

And yes, your boys and your husband make it better, make it worthwhile, but it remains that you feel old, you’ve been tired since you were still 19. Your days are consumed with stress and your nights are filled with fear. And you can never say this now because it has been years, and you’ve lost that chance. The guilt would throw Bruce off his game and if he’s off his game, he could die and all of this would be for nothing. Quite against your will, you’ve been trapped in a no-win situation, and even death is no escape because you know that without you, it all comes crashing down and game over. You are Atlas, holding up the world and knowing that you have just enough strength to hold it up for eternity. And no one will release you from your prison.

But you have to endure it, and smile while you do so because if Bruce ever knew (or if he even cared to look), it’d all go falling down. You are the support, and the support’s support, but no one ever thinks that you might need assistance. What do you have going on? Being a dad? Working? Attending parties? It isn’t enough and you know it isn’t enough and everybody knows that it isn’t enough and they always, always need MORE.

I wonder now how Batdad does it. How he doesn’t break down crying. And part of that is because he is fictional, and I never thought about what it would be like to go through that level of pressure every day of your life. I hope someday Bruce comes to his senses. That even if he doesn’t let go of his grief, maybe he stops being Batman. And stops training Robins. Because yes, he gave them a home, but he manipulated them into being what he is. Who knows what good Dick could have done if he had just been Bruce’s adopted son. Maybe a philanthropist. Maybe he just would’ve had a happy life instead of one where he could die every day. Where he constantly has to reopen the wound of his parents’ deaths to convince him to keep at it. I want them to realize that they don’t have to, anymore.

But they won’t. Because they aren’t real. And they exist for our entertainment. And because we’ll keep reading the comics and watching the movies and playing the games, Bruce will always be Batman and never come to terms with his parents’ deaths in a healthy way and there will always be more threats to existence and even just to him personally.

And Batdad too, is trapped.

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imthepointe · 3 years

Text

First Love / Late Spring

Five times Kai asks Cole to marry him, and the one time Cole (sort of) says yes.

a/n: word count- 3322, tw- mentions of injury

1 (in their first year of friendship)

Kai Smith was not a professional blacksmith.

Say what you will about his weapon-making and metallurgy abilities, but unlike his parents, he lacked proper training and technique; he supposed that was why Sensei had him spending the day hunched over the furnace, practicing crafting weapons. The fire ninja couldn’t complain too much, though, since a certain earth ninja was also instructed to accompany him during his practice.

Kai ceased hammering whatever it was he was trying to make and frowned. What was supposed to be a chain on a nunchuck looked...nothing of the sort.

“Cole Brookestone,” he offered up said metal band to his friend, “will you marry me?”

A barely fifteen-year-old Cole put his hand to his chest and gasped. “I- I don’t know what to say,” he smiled, “I’m honored, truly.”

Kai slipped the dingy, ring-shaped metal onto his finger and smiled, feeling his face warm and his stomach swoop.

“Unfortunately, I am going to have to decline,” Cole said solemnly.

“What? Why?”

Cole laughed. “Your execution was lousy and informal.” He inspected Kai’s homemade ring on his finger as the fire ninja scrambled to his feet.

“It was perfect, I got on one knee and everything,” Kai sighed, a smile still remaining on his face. “But If you’re gonna reject me, I want my ring back.”

Cole held his hand with the ring close to his chest, laughing again in the same way that made Kai’s face burn. “No way. This is mine now.”

Kai jumped, reaching for the ring, only for Cole to dodge. Despite his youth, the earth ninja was still considerably larger than Kai, so a little game of keep away was no trouble. Still, he let the red ninja continue to play this game.

“But you rejected me! It’s mine!” Kai pounced again, this time landing a hit on Cole’s chest, prying his hands apart.

“I rejected you, not the ring!” Cole cried in between giggles.

Kai wrapped his hand around Cole’s waist and pulled him close, still wrestling to get the ring from his finger, even though he knew it was futile. “Me and the ring are a package deal,” he scowled, a shimmer in his eye.

Cole picked Kai up, tossing him over his shoulder with ease. Kai could feel Cole’s back tense as he began carrying him out of the little blacksmith’s shop, laughing so hard he’s nearly in tears.

“Fine!” Kai half shouted, half laughed after a few moments of playful struggle, relaxing against Cole’s shoulder. “I give up! The ring was ugly anyway.”

Cole set Kai down, a triumphant grin on his face. “Yeah, it was ugly. I like it.”

2 (post mortem)

Kai stood at Cole’s closed door, unsure of whether to knock or not.

Not one person had gotten a wink of sleep since returning from Yang’s temple, especially Cole- though that was probably because he didn’t need sleep now.

Of all the things that could have gone wrong at the temple, why this?

Kai sucked in a breath and knocked on Cole’s closed door. A soft “come in” sounded, though it had a ghastly and fazed edge to it.

“Hey,” was all he said, pushing his way into the familiar room.

Cole was just sitting (hovering?) on his bed, blankly staring at nothing in particular. He hummed in acknowledgment.

“I was, uh,” the fire ninja rubbed the back of his neck, stumbling on his words. Cole would know what to say in a situation like this if any other teammate had been turned into a ghost, but all the things Kai wanted to say stopped at his tongue, like a barrier was holding them back. “I was just checking in.”

“I’m fine.”

FSM, what a liar. Even Kai wasn’t dense enough to fall for that.

“I mean, you can talk to me about it, you know?” Kai made his way from the door to the little space beside the earth ninja on the bed.

As he sat down, a chill ran up his spine. The air around the new ghost was cold and illuminated by soft green light that was produced by Cole’s new form-- it was weird, seeing someone Kai had always looked up to as strong and indomitable seem so fragile and weak.

“I know. I’m fine. Thanks for checking,” Cole turned his face away from Kai.

Kai sighed, making an attempt to put his hands onto Cole’s, to no avail. When Kai’s warm hands phased right through the earth ninja’s, he flinched.

“Please talk to me,” Kai said softly, failing to add because I need to hear your voice.

There was a beat of silence. When Cole didn’t respond, the red ninja tried again. He shifted his body to face more openly towards Cole, who was still staring off into the space just beyond the floor.

“Can you make yourself solid?”

“No.”

Kai felt a little part of himself die when he heard those words. He shifted closer to Cole cautiously and cleared his throat. “Can you try for me?”

Now, Cole looked up and met the fire ninja’s eyes. His face was smaller than normal, eyes drawn wide into a scared expression that took Kai aback.

The ghost forced a small smile. “I already have tried, Kai, it’s no use,” his voice was muted. “I can’t hold anything and I can’t feel anything and-”

“Try for me now, okay?”

For a moment, it seemed as if Cole was going to protest, but he quickly shut his mouth and instead nodded weakly. Kai stood and rummaged around his room for something small that Cole could hold.

Cole was an organized person, but he didn’t really have many trinkets lying around that would work. He was organized and was not a compulsive hoarder, and it was in times like these when those two qualities were not good things.

Kai thumbed through the drawers of Cole’s nightstand, looking for a rock, a pencil, or anything, before his eyes landed on a small shiny ring.

Well, maybe calling it a “ring” was subjective.

Kai held up the small metal band he had made while he was supposed to be practicing blacksmithing almost two years ago, showing it to Cole.

“You kept this?” he asked, surprised.

Once again, the black ninja gave a small nod.

Kai felt his stomach turn as light as a feather and a blush creep into his cheeks. “But--it’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Kai laughed, moving closer to Cole. “Why did you keep it?”

“I wouldn’t throw away a ring my fiance gave me.”

The fire ninja remembered the conversation he had with Cole that day in the blacksmith, when Kai had fake-but-not-really-fake proposed to Cole with this ugly ring that wasn’t even supposed to be a ring.

Kai was a much better smith now than he was two years ago.

“Hold out your hand and concentrate,” Kai ordered. Cole extended his hand and closed his eyes shut.

When Kai slipped the band onto Cole’s finger and let go, the ring stayed in place. The ghost opened his eyes slowly, curiously looking at his hand, as if checking to make sure it was still attached. When he saw that the ring was still on his finger, he smiled.

“Kai, I feel it.”

“Well, now you have to marry me,” Kai said with a click of his tongue.

Cole laughed, and this time it was genuine.

3 (but it was forgotten)

“It just doesn’t make any sense,” Kai shook his head. “Why Nya?”

“Cause she looks like some other chick named Delara? I dunno,” Cole sighed. “Maybe you should wish for Nadakhan to marry you instead.”

Kai leaned against Cole’s shoulder, sticking out his bottom lip way too far for the pout to be real. Cole just rolled his eyes, making himself corporeal to accommodate the fire ninja putting all of his weight on to the ghostly earth ninja.

The Bounty’s room was completely empty save for the two of them sitting at the table, and Cole was silently thankful for that; it was pretty par for the course for Kai to be all over people, but if Jay knew that Cole wasn’t directly opposing Kai’s clinginess, the lightning ninja would never let him live it down.

“Maybe you have a point,” Kai smirked, now sitting upright. “Who wouldn’t wanna marry me? I’m awesome, I’m funny, I’m--”

A hand flew over Kai’s mouth, silencing the fire ninja. Cole glared hard at him though a grin remained on his lips.

“I’m literally begging you to shut up. It was a joke.” Cole slowly retracted his hand from the now silent Kai.

The fire ninja waited for just a moment, letting his eyes meet Cole’s, before whispering under his breath “I’m really hot…”

“Oh, shut up!”

In a swift motion, Cole had Kai pinned to the ground, knocking over multiple chairs in the process-- but just as soon as the ghost was solid enough to tackle Kai, he phased through him.

In all fairness, it took a lot of concentration just to let Kai lean on his shoulder. He was pretty exhausted from that.

The two dissolved into laughter, then both helping each other stand, tidying up the knocked over chairs.

Kai stopped laughing, turning to face Cole. “I mean, if you were Nadakhan, would you rather marry me or Nya?”

“Nya. No questions asked.”

“Didn’t even hesitate? I’m hurt,” Kai held his hands to his heart. He pretended to be injured for just a moment longer, before asking, “Okay, what if you were just yourself? Would you rather marry me or Nya?”

Cole looked to the ground. If ghosts could blush, he would have.

“I’ll think about it.”

After the events of the following days, neither would remember this conversation.

4 (unrequited)

Kai sat in a chair in the medical bay, bent over with his hands resting on his knees. He bounced his leg to keep himself distracted from the overall disaster that had been that day.

He supposed he was supposed to be happy- his sister just got engaged- what?- and the team had defeated the Oni. It was supposed to be a good day.

But Lloyd had literally died and came back to life and Cole was unconscious after collapsing halfway through the final battle in the medical bay because he fell off of the Bounty. Kai made note that Cole should not have survived, and yet somehow, he did.

So, really, Kai should have been happy; but he was barely hanging on by a thread that was a second away from snapping.

“You missed it,” he told Cole’s unresponsive body. Massive bruises etched their way across his chest and up his neck from his fall.

“Jay asked Nya to be his yang, so, uh, I guess they’re gonna get married,” Kai said under his breath, releasing a deep exhale. He cupped his face in his hands. “I’m happy for them, I guess.”

Truthfully, Kai was. This was his sister and his best friend, and they loved each other, so honestly it was just a matter of time before they got married.

It just felt so wrong to celebrate when one of their teammates was on death’s door.

Zane had told him that Cole was going to be fine. There would be a recovery process, but he was going to live. Still, Kai found himself spending every moment after the final battle with Cole, making sure that he was still breathing and his heart was still beating. Zane had also told him that Cole wasn’t going to go anywhere anytime soon and that he needed to quit being so worried.

With the way he’s acting right now, maybe Kai should have been the one to propose today.

He laughed inwardly, before telling Cole, “If you asked me to marry you right now, I’d say yes.”

His eyes settled on the earth ninja’s closed ones. “Could you imagine? You marrying me instead of Nya marrying Jay?”

Kai hoped Cole would wake up and say something-- he didn’t.

The fire ninja stood from his chair, walking over to the stretcher. He grabbed Cole’s wrist, feeling the pulse, a small reminder that the black ninja was still here. “I can’t marry you if you stay knocked out, though,” he said, tone controlled and steady. “Wake up soon, okay?”

When Cole remained motionless on the stretcher, Kai knew he would not get any response.

5 (sweater weather)

“Kai.”

There was a shiver instead of a response.

“Kai, look,” Cole called again, tugging at Kai’s coat sleeve. He pointed to a coffee shop just down the block with a giant sign on its front that read “SALE.”

“Hm?” Kai hummed, looking in the direction Cole was pointing.

It was a known fact that Kai absolutely despised cold weather. He liked looking at snow, but that was about it. He hated the way it felt, he hated the way it made everything slippery, and he really hated the way it was cold. He was the fire ninja; cold weather didn’t like him and he didn’t care for it much either.

So why in the world he agreed when Cole asked him if he wanted to go walk around town when it was barely 30 degrees fahrenheit and snowing was beyond him, but love works in mysterious ways.

“Do you wanna go get hot coffee? This place is having a sale, too,” Cole said. He looked at the sale sign, then to the door of the shop.

“Oh FSM, yes,” Kai said. He pushed past Cole and into the warm building, not bothering to look at the sign.

Kai hated snow, but maybe it would be bearable if he had Cole by his side and coffee in his hand.

The ninja household was divided when it came to coffee versus tea. They were supposed to like tea, and FSM forbid Wu ever learn that Kai, Cole, and Lloyd prefer coffee to tea. Nya and Zane liked tea.

Jay liked coffee, but he was not allowed to have it anymore following the incident.

Cole knew Kai’s coffee order by heart--medium caramel macchiato with an extra shot of espresso and caramel drizzle-- but his own order changed day to day. More often than not he ordered straight black coffee. Kai liked to joke that it matched his personality, even though it wasn’t true.

Kai watched as the nindroid barista made her way over to two of them and silently thought about how mad Zane would be right now if he knew what the two of them were up to.

Cole ordered for the two of them, then watched as the barista rang up both of their drinks at full price.

“Wait,” Kai interrupted, gaining the nindroid’s attention. “Isn’t there supposed to be a sale?”

The barista laughed. “It’s a couples discount,” she explained, eyeing the two ninja, “so, uh, unless you two married, then your total is $5.99.”

The two ninja glanced at each other, a smile growing on their faces.

“Cole, marry me right now,” Kai said.

Cole stifled a laugh. “In your dreams,” he rolled his eyes. “Unless…?”

The barista smiled and covered her mouth with a robotic hand. “Just for brightening my day, I’m going to give you the discount, bringing your total to $4.20,” she laughed.

Maybe Kai didn’t totally hate cold weather.

+1 (first love / late spring)

Cole was so frustratingly well-spoken.

He was infuriatingly good at saying things. Hell, he could be talking about puppies dying and make it sound like a rhetorical masterpiece. Kai always figured that his natural way with words probably had something to do with Lou being a songwriter, and Cole just being a natural born leader in general.

Kai was not that well spoken, despite what he may tell the others, but at least he was able to talk about his emotions (unlike a certain black ninja).

And that’s normally how their conversations went. Kai would talk about his feelings and Cole would deflect talking about his own and instead formulate some elaborate response to help the red ninja with his issues.

It took Kai by surprise one late spring night when, as the pair was sitting by the pond just outside the monastery, Cole said something weird and vulnerable.

“Do you think you’ll ever be able to have a really normal life?” He waved his hand, facing Kai. “I know that a normal life by societal standards is kind of...unattainable, because we’re ninja, but do you know what I mean?”

“I think so,” Kai said. Warm spring breeze made the water lap at the shore, where the two sat. He stared off into the distance, past Cole, maybe at the pond or maybe he was looking at the tall trees just behind the pond.

“I mean, like, I never really had a normal life, I guess, but I really want normal parts of life,” he rubbed the back of his neck. He really wasn’t sure where Cole was going with this.

He saw Cole’s eyes light up and the black ninja touched his hand in a way that made Kai’s stomach turn to butterflies.

“Yes! That’s what I mean!”

Cole saw Kai’s momentary confusion and elaborated. “I know my life won’t ever be normal but I want normal aspects of life. I want to fall in love, I want to travel, I want to do all these things,” he looked to Kai then back to the water. “We were kinda forced into an adult life when we were just kids,” he said. “It doesn’t feel fair. I mean, Lloyd’s just a tall child.”

Kai picked at the small flowers blooming in the grass where they sat--he was still caught up on the first thing Cole said about falling in love.

“I get it,” Kai said. “I want to fall in love too. And also have a normal life.” He mostly wanted Cole to keep talking.

Kai gathered the flowers in his hand and looked to Cole. He liked the way the moon reflected in his gray eyes, and he liked the way his faint green scar was still visible in the night.

Cole laughed and looked Kai in the eyes.

“You’re one to talk about love, you’ve already fallen for someone.”

For a moment, he fire ninja panicked. How did Cole know? To be fair, he had been pretty direct about Cole marrying him more than once, and Cole was smart…

But oh FSM, did Cole know? Oh fuck.

“With Skylor,” Cole eyed him. “Don’t you remember?”

Thank the First Master.

Kai relaxed. “I wasn’t in love with Skylor, I think I just thought I was. I was in love with someone else.”

Cole smiled fondly, looking at the flowers in Kai’s hands. “Yeah, me too.”

There was a beat of silence as both ninja processed what the other had said. Kai was the first to break the silence, asking, “Well, who was your first love, then?”

The black ninja looked at him for a moment as Kai held his breath.

Please don’t say you love me.

“I think,” Cole paused. “I think it was you.”

Kai felt himself melt, but not because of any fire he could have made or any late spring heat. He felt the sense of normalcy he and Cole had just talked about. He felt himself really in love with Cole Brookestone.

He had been direct before and he was going to be direct again. “I love you too. Like, really. I have for as long as we have been friends.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

He laughed nervously, and then reused the same old joke he had used when he first realized he was in love with Cole, in the blacksmith during their first year of friendship.

“Cole, will you marry me?”

Cole had a glitter in his eye and a soft smile on his face. “Maybe take me out to dinner first?”

“Only if I can call it a date.”

The earth ninja smiled and wrapped his hand around Kai’s. “Deal.”

#ninjago #title from lavashipping anthem first love / late spring by mitski #lavashipping #kai smith #cole brookstone #in this fic kai is pining so hard omg #kai is the undisputed winner of pinefest 2020 #tw mentions of injury #claire writes #ninjago fanfiction

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