#I'm a wee bit shy to post this but at the same time

[wormwoodartemisia]

@xintothewoodswegox 🍀🥃🍻

I wasn’t really planning to but this was just the wee bit that was missing to actually make me start to post all my silly little ideas... Probably not what you expected, but I now make it your problem, anyway! 🤷‍♀️😉💋🫂

Inspiration immediately hit me when I saw this:

This is my icon (I got permission to use it from the artist, Notesz, and I love their CoD-art, among others!), the bigger version to fully experience its magnificence. 🥴🖤

THERAPIST JOHN 'SOAP' MACTAVISH...

My version, at least... 😏😋 Civilian afab!reader, no specific desciption, no use of y/n Warnings: Absolutely no smut - instead, Soap using a ridiculous amount of pet names because I need him to... Furtive approach of making him sound a bit Scottish now and then, but I'm still very shy about it... Reference to abusive relationship, but I have the impression that tw is not needed. Let me know if I'm wrong! Short appearances: Price & Ghost, only brief mentioning of Gaz About 2.5k words, starting below the cut.

SHENANIGANS

It's gonna be ok...

You are more than relieved that the address is the same as before. A change would have been more than inconvenient. This place is known to you, every staircase, exit, door in the building. You know what to expect, where cars can park, which closeby places are crowded and where to disappear if needed.

Therefore you don't hesitate before entering the building where your therapist has got their office, first floor. From this height, getting away out of any window might be manageable in case it has to be, even for you, or so you hope and wish that you'll never have to find out...

You are more than grateful that it's not a total change. When your therapist told you they had to postpone your next session for several months due to some scientific research and a book that had to be written, you were about to quit, but they immediately tried to comfort you: "Of course you will not be alone in this situation. I've found the perfect stand-in for you, one who can absolutely meet your needs, trust me. Doctor MacTavish will fully take over this office while I’m working abroad. You just keep coming here for your normal appointments and clarify the rest with him."

You were led to the exit, they shook your hand and left you standing there, speechless, the news fresh like a bleeding wound. This was how your last session ended three days ago.

The situation itself was too surreal for you. So you simply accepted there was no suitable aftercare and that you wouldn't be introduced to Doctor MacTavish properly. There were too many thoughts on your mind to ask yourself if any therapist would really let their office be fully taken over this way...

When you enter your therapist's (your new therapist's) office, you notice that nothing, absolutely nothing has changed. There's still no secretary in the anteroom and despite the fact that you are perfectly on time, your knock at the door to the main office is shy. The deep male voice that bids you enter is a bit muffled through the closed door, but audible enough for you to instantly like its sound - very much so.

The moment you open the door to step in, the man on the other side of the room gets up from behind his desk to greet you with a radiant smile that directs the view away from his remarkable eyes and to his mouth with that striking scar on his chin. He comes over to you, holding out his hand to shake yours. For just a second you are too stunned to react properly. This guy is as far away from how you imagine a therapist as you want to be from your fucker of an ex-boyfriend...

He's quite tall and massive, slightly tanned muscles he knows to put on display - but not as some wannabe poser. He simply isn't afraid to show his self-confidence, clearly earned one way or the other. His casual blue jeans do his muscular legs some good, the woven brown leather belt around his midsection a nice devider to accentuate his upper body. A soft dark blue T-shirt hugs his frame like a second skin.

While you keep staring, your eyes wide, he has locked the door and performed the act of greeting (which includes taking your hand) all by himself because you are not much of a support. Without any effort he holds eye-contact with you - and this is the meanest thing to do, for you immediately fall for that sparkling cerulean blue. In fact, his intense eyes were the first thing you noticed about this man. (Not to mention his mohawk - which has never suited anyone better, you have to admit...)

When he strides back to his desk, reality sets in again and you recall the warm feeling of his strong hand holding yours in his. There is his scent in your nose, a perfume of woods and leather and the essence of green - moss and fern, maybe?

You watch him walk, his broad shoulders, muscles rolling beneath his skin, and you catch yourself staring at his arse. You are somewhat shocked about how blatantly you've just sized him up when it is his brains you need.

It's a literal necessaty to shake your head twice in order to get rid of your - let's say - more physical thoughts. Only that it can’t get easier for you: He doesn’t sit down behind his desk again, but is now leaning at the front of it, facing you, half-sitting, his legs extended and crossed in the most relaxed style, his arms folded over his chest - in such a decorative way that you must notice the tattoo on his right forearm.

The smug grin playing on his lips adds to the mischivous glint in his eyes. He is well aware of the effect he has on you - obviously nothing that makes him uncomfortable - on the contrary. You even get the impression that he lets you have your fill before he finally says your name - just your first name. Your former therapist always called you by your surname...

"Such a pleasure we finally meet."

You nod once and, after clearing your throat, you agree. "The pleasure is mine, Doctor MacTavish. "

He quietly laughs at that, not condecendingly, but with a warmth that immediately forces your lips into a soft smile as well.

"Just John, please. We don't need a doctor, do we?" He notices your hesitation before you finally nod. "Oh - ok. John. As you please." Again his all-consuming smile. "Ever so polite, hen. Now lie down."

The way you stare at him, incredulously, your pretty eyes wide as saucers, is a sight to behold. Grabbing a notebook, he straightens up again and points to his right. "The sofa, lass. Isn't tha wha therapy's about?"

You feel a bit stupid because you are totally convinced that - of course - you would have understood this completely unambigous statement had it come from your former therapist - or any person fitting your image of how a typical therapist should look.

Meanwhile John has reached the sofa and the two armchairs facing it. Your former therapist always kept their place behind their desk while you were seated in front of it on a normal chair, but this option seems to be unacceptable for John.

You swallow. "Well, ehm... I'd rather sit, in case you're good with that?" No problem for him. "Ach, have yer way, dearie. Ah'm good with a lot of things. Ye mind if ah?" He lets his Scottish brogue show and doesn't wait for your answer before he himself drops onto the sofa unceremoniously, the door in view. His notebook is resting on his chest while he stretches out his legs and puts his arms behind his head.

You can’t take your eyes off him as you slowly lower your body into the soft armchair. For his part, he's also watching you, somehow expectantly - as if he is about to ask you next which film to pick and where to order some take-away food... You're not sure how to feel about this man - and you're an open book.

"Ye have yer doubts, luv, haven't ye? What is it? Tell me."

Yes, what exactly is it? you wonder. Of course you can’t tell him that you've never heard of a therapist as hot as him - because that's not really what puts you off (distracted you somehow at first, yes, but that superficial notion would pass). He's too close, too fast, isn't he? Doesn't seem to believe in professional distance...

You opt for a more diplomatic explanation, one that holds enough truth in itself. "It’s just... I guess, I expected someone older..." He donnes you a knowing smile. "Let me assure ye that ah'm old enough for the job and ah dinnae lack experience, if that's wha ye're thinkin."

In fact you do not doubt that he’s got some wide range of different experiences. You only muse if it's the kind of experience you need while you take in his extraordinary tattoo and the prominent scar on his chin as two visible hallmarks made flesh to tag to the ambivalent feelings you have towards your new therapist.

John follows the movements of your eyes and touches his scar, grinning. "Boys are boys, ye ken? And ah must admit that ah wasn't born a therapist." He adds your name, almost like an afterthought.

"That so? For how long have you been a therapist then?"

His smile doesn't waver. "Been a few days", and with that he winks at you. "How about this? We take a few sessions, get tae know each other, and then ye can decide whether we go on or nae. What ye say?"

You consider his proposition. The fact that it is him your former therapist has chosen as their surrogate clearly drips in his favour - but you are a bit afraid that therapy with Doctor MacTavish - John - will be something entirely different from before... However, does 'different' have to mean 'worse'? You lean back in your armchair. "Ok. How do we start?"

John hasn't changed his horizontal position so far and seems to be comfy on his sofa. "Tell me somethin about ye, hun." - "Haven't you read my patient records?" - "- course ah have. Gnawing self-doubts, trust issues, traumatic experiences in yer relationship. But ah want tae hear ye talk. Choose any random topic and we speak about it."

For a second you are tempted to go for the weather forecast or your favourite animal, but this idea is only short- lived. Instead, you go for something new you would have been willing to let your former therapist in about soon. "I don't sleep much these days. I have nightmares." You don't look up, so he reassures you with a low, calm voice. "Go on."

You shrug. "That's all."

John looks at you pensively. "So ye do sleep." - "Pardon?" - "Yer dreams. In order tae have nightmares, ye need tae sleep first. Or do ye mean that ye refuse tae sleep for fear of havin bad dreams?"

You're not sure you see much of a difference, but you think about his question. "I fall asleep. Then the dreams start and after some time I wake up in cold sweat. And repeat." - "Have ye thought about takin sleepin pills? They could help ye with sleepin through the night." - "So I wouldn’t wake up from the horror? No way!" - "Don't ye want tae know how the dream ends?" You blink. "I... No? Can’t be a good end. I mean... have you ever even had nightmares, John?"

It's the first time that his smile changes its tone into something tinted, a lopsided grin with a grave seriousness. He sits up and leans forward to you, his notebook now next to him, his arms resting on his knees, before he starts to speak. "Ah ken the weight of nightmares, bonnie. 'ave seen some trauma in ma life", he hesitates, "Therapist stuff, ye ken? Ah dream about getting shot sometimes. Or being blown tae pieces."

When he doesn't add any more information, you feel the need to ask: "And then?" He purses his lips: "Then the dreams take a bearable direction - or start again."

You stare at the man in front of you, he holds your gaze unblinkingly. You frown. "I don't understand in how far this can be helpful to me, John." - "Priorities, luv. Ah usually tend tae choose sleep over some more or less vague fears. Ma body needs tae recover so that ah dinnae have tae let the nightmares come true." He hesitates once more. "In a metaphorical way, of course. When ah'm awake then, ah can think about the bad dreams and work through them. Might take some time, though."

The impression he gives you is one of sheer honesty. You're intrigued: "And what have you found out? About your nightmares?" - "Just the obvious. Fear of being unable tae get the job done, fear of nae being able tae support those who rely on me, failure in general. All the therapist stuff ah'm going through. Ah really get stuck into it, lass." He smiles the gravitas away. However, you can feel that he means it. This is more than just a job for him. He's always on a mission to save lives. That's real. He wants to prevent death if and when it's in his power. He for himself has to deal with an immense amount of emotional pressure every day.

You can feel all the emotional pressure as well - but for you, there’s always the other pressure, too. The invisible threat of a former boyfriend who was quite close to being the literal death of you.

You don't think less of Doctor John MacTavish just because he has surely never experienced that his life was literally at stake. Your lives are just so different... "I only hope that I'll never become one of your nightmares, John."

A boyish grin: "Ach, dinnae fash, bonnie. Chances are up for some sweet dreams."

⬛◼◾▪️Meanwhile, outside▪️◾◼⬛

"I still believe Garrick would have been the better choice", Ghost rumbles while they are waiting for you to leave the building again. In the driver's seat, the Captain takes a sip from his coffee, flashing the masked man next to him a look out of the corners of his eyes. "Soap's got some useful background knowledge from previous missions, some intel Gaz clearly lacks. Not to mention that Kyle couldn't make it back in time, right?" Ghost slowly shakes his head, almost unnoticeably, so Price adds: "You think MacTavish can’t handle the situation and take it far enough?"

Now Ghost barks a laugh: "Bloody hell... I'm not worried about his interrogation skills or acting abilities. 'm just worried that he might take it farther than he should - and we might get more than we've bargained for." - "He thinks she's that dangerous?"

It's a harsh laugh as response that the Captain gets to hear from his Lieutenant instantly. Ghost keeps his eyes trained on the entrance of the building when he answers: "This bird's not too dangerous. Yet I wouldn't guarantee she can’t take him apart..."

⬛◼◾▪️▪️◾◼⬛

You feel heat rise to your cheeks. But when you think about it, you have to admit that your choice of words was a perfect set-up...

"Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me, John. I'll think about your words, I promise, but for now, I'd love to change the subject." Luckily, your therapist is more than willing to fulfil your wish.

"That's fine. Now it's ma turn tae choose a topic. Let's talk about relationships. Just in general. We needn't necessarily come tae tha specific partner of yours. Wha was his name again, hen? Macaron?"

[theultimatekamehamehavoc]

INCOMING RAMBLE THAT GET'S JUST A WEE BIT SAPPY Okay, so I've been just looking at my old content (starting to redraw some of it too) and my gosh have I grown so much in so many ways. Like, I started in February with this blog and it's already getting close to Spooky month somehow. Looking back, I've certainly had some hit and misses with my posts. And sure. Some cute and some a bit weird. I still feel some of my older rambles had their charm. At the same time though, some of them don't in my eyes and I think that's okay! Not all of my old posts have to age well. Though 18, I was still a cringy highschooler at the time. Guess what I'm getting at here is that I feel much better as a person now. Still not exactly where I wanna be and I'm still innovating in my style and art and getting better at not being a little wimp when it comes to making comments and cool content I see. My goodness are there still so many pieces of art or rambles from other people that I've liked and had sitting there for months but have been too shy to say anything cus I don't wanna have another moment where I write something very cringy to an artist I respect. Or just any creative or any person anywhere. Or it's just that the stuff I've seen the folks I follow make is cool and I enjoy it and I want to make a comment but also feeling shy cus my brain just HAS to say something more. Like, I can't just look at a flower and go "That's really pretty! Good job!" I just have to infodump or make a joke or something along those lines. I like ensuring that I write enough where the art is appreciated and all!! Be a hype man! Also, I dunno why I'm suddenly writing all of this sappy stuff but screw it! I'm being authentic and all and like, that's cool or something? Honestly, I don't think I'll ever really get rid of my awkward dweeb energy. Think that's just stuck on me forever. That's fine too though. So, I thank you all and any newcomers for tolerating my gooberness! Like, really! From comments to reblogs, even if they aren't anything crazy. They don't have to reinvent like... shoot. What's older than the wheel? Like, the calendar? Okay, according to my minimal research, the wall is older which is also just making me think of the Pink Floyd album instead cus of course it is hehe! But, as I was saying, I really do appreciate everything a whole lot! Feel this 7th month long development of mine really makes me almost excited for the future? Okay. Maybe excited is pushing it hahaha! But, hopeful and happy? Like, my art makes people happy and it makes me happy I'm able to do that. I think it's also cus, way back even before my tumblr and before I even developed my IRL friendships, I didn't really have friends and also I had that cringy middle schooler "not like the other girls" phase which past me just thought i had no empathy for some weird reason. And then there was like 2020 with Covid and I was very much better and worse. I realized I wasn't the best in the past but also I had really bad anxiety in that moment in my life. I've still haven't recovered honestly even though nothing really bad happened to me in particular. Not that it makes what I feel invalid of course. Plus, there was also other shitty stuff that happened in my life as well after which I won't share cus that's inching to even more personal details and all. This all just feels nice though. Being able to find people I can relate to IRL or well, I SAY IRL but it's not really because all of my IRL friends are in other states in college while I'm taking my gap year, clearly not in college hehe. I hope I'm making sense here though which I feel I am but also I guess I just type that out whenever I'm unsure of myself, even when I am being clear. Plus, this is a ramble and all. It wasn't destined to make But, really. I thank you all. I promise I won't be too sappy in the future! Or I'll try to!

[rom-e-o]

Connie with the different Scrooges?

I started thinking about how Constance would interact with the other Scrooges from different universes. You know, while they're all the same character inspired by the Dickens blueprint, they are somewhat different as different actors/directors have interpreted the character through their renditions.

There are versions of this character that I don't necessarily care to mull over, but the ones that I do...how would Miss Constance DoGoode interact with them? Would she even like them?

To level the playing field, as she meets the 2022 version post-redemption, she'll meet the others post-redemption also.

If there are version here left out, I just don't have much to say about it or have neutral feelings. Or I haven't seen it.

"Scrooge" (1951) - She would think he's wonderful! This is a super physical version of Scrooge, who twirls and dances, and she loves that! I think Connie would adore this version of him a lot. Alistair Sim being a comedian REALLY makes his redeemed transformation so joyful and physical. Connie thrives on joy and humor. She'd be properly sympathetic about his past, but not to the point of forgiving him. 8/10

"Scrooge" (1970) - I think she'd like him fine. Similar to the 2004 Scrooge (we'll get there), he's a little ... much for her, I think. Again, kind man giving to charity, great! She's supportive! But, if he was her boss, I feel like she'd taking a few shots after work some nights. This is also a very physical version of Scrooge, and the actor was literally in his 30s when he played the role, but the differences in his personality from the 1950s version work to the detriment of their chemistry here. 5/10

"A Christmas Carol" (1984) - She would be a little more intimidated by this rendition. He's not as easy to read as the others, at least not to her. He's handsome and incredibly kind, but a wee bit less silly than his 1950s version. However, I do think she's come around to feel quite comfortable around him. Eventually. I feel like they'd have an exceptionally good business relationship, and he'd notice her talents and intelligence. It scratches a different itch than the personality click. 8/10

"The Muppet Christmas Carol" (1992) - Imagining Constance talking to puppets honestly doesn't feel that weird. I feel like she and Rizzo would bond over being New York/New Jersey folk. Otherwise, I don't think she'd take to him. He's a fine gentleman, but...ehhhhhhhh. The vibes are off. That's the only way I can explain it. 6/10 for them, but 10/10 mental image.

"A Christmas Carol" (1999) - I'm not the biggest fan of this version, buuuut we're talking about Connie ... and I think Connie would take to him well. His awkwardness would get to her in the best way. She would feel quite safe around him, and I think that nervous, boyish energy post-redemption would absolutely captivate her. The dichotomy of a physically imposing frame with this almost sheepish gentleman? That's a big thing for her. Although he's not my fav version of Scrooge, I could see Connie falling for him. He might be so shy that Connie had to lead a bit, but that might be good for her and put them on mor equal footing than in other versions. 9.5/10

"A Christmas Carol" (2004) - He's a little too chaotic for Connie, I think? He has this constant, manic energy, even when redeemed. I think Connie would get exhausted. I feel like, if she worked for him, he might run her ragged with all his charity works and projects. She likes him, of course! Kind man who gives to charity, after all. But anything more? Probs not. 5/10

"A Christmas Carol" (2019) - No. Even post-redemption, there is no association. He's too much like her ex-husband for her to become attached in any way. If she finds out what happened to Mrs. Cratchit? Connie isn't violent, but she'd slap him hard, and probably multiple times. So would Theresea. -100/10

"Scrooge" (2022) - Perfect. Endgame. No notes. Funny, nice, endearingly awkward (but not too much), STUPIDLY handsome, tall, goofy, resonant voice, charitable, kind, good with children, and doting. He's a lousy decorator, but hey, no big deal. 100000/10

So the final ranking:

2022 (duh)

1999

1951 tied with 1984

[homerforsure]

i was wondering, if you had the time or energy (but honestly who has time or energy these days? not me so i don’t know who i think i am asking lol) if you would do a tiny little snippet from your hockey au with protective eddie? definitely no pressure whatsoever, i’m perfectly content to let this go into the void where it probably belongs. i was just binge reading all the hockey snippets you had in “i’ll dress you up in stitches” and it apparently got to my head. hope you’re having a fantabulous day!!

Hey darling Anon!

Writing life is a wee bit of a trashfire at the moment 😅

I do have (loose, loose, so loose, definitely nothing anyone should pin me to) plans to focus on Hockey AU in the new year, but I'm definitely not going to be doing any new writing on it this week.

That said. I do have the following snippet. I know I've posted at least part of it here before but I don't think I did all of it? I hope it satisfies the itch anyway.

*

Rather than scramble for a smooth response that he was never going to be able to find, Eddie chose to ignore both of them and look out over the rest of the bar. There were a lot of directions he could have been looking–at Benji, drunk and singing “Don’t Stop Me Now” out in the middle of the dance floor for one–but only one that he was ever going to choose.

Buck had found a spot at the far end of the bar where he could squeeze in and make his request of the bartender. He was leaning in with his forearms on the bar and the toe of one of his white sneakers tapping the floor behind him. If it wasn’t so damn obvious and they weren’t surrounded by literally every person Buck knew in LA, Eddie might have followed him across the room and leaned back against the bar beside him. Soon, he thought. For now, he savored the warm feeling of anticipation in his belly and admired the sight of Buck’s long, long legs in all that dark denim. 

Of course, Buck being Buck, it wasn’t only Eddie’s eyes that were drawn to him. 

There was a particular dance that autograph seekers did. A double take at least, if not a triple, confirming the spark of recognition that an accidental passing glance had ignited. Very shy ones or the ones who tried to be respectful of your space stopped there. (Eddie usually offered them a nod and he knew other players who sometimes liked to stroll over and introduce themselves.) Most people elbowed the friends they were with and whispered behind their hands. Some pointed. The friends gave verbal confirmation of the sighting and then someone started egging the others on until one was eventually pushed forward as the spokesperson and finally came to make contact. 

Variations existed (the Drunk, the Flirt and the Jerk all had their unique qualities and approaches), but Eddie had learned to notice when he was being noticed. Noticing that Buck was being noticed was really just an extension of that same watchfulness. Nothing else. 

The group that Buck had yet to see was standing behind and to his left. A tall, skinny guy in his mid-twenties was flanked by two shorter girls, one of whom had her phone out and pointed at Buck. Eddie thought at first she was taking a picture, but the other two had their heads craned over the phone to see something that she was showing them there and kept looking back up in Buck’s direction. (“That’s not him.” “That’s totally him!”) Eventually she reached a moment of resolve and said something that was almost certainly, “I’m going over there,” and strode purposefully across the bar. Her friends laughed and followed after her and Eddie had time to roll his eyes and wonder how long Buck would be stuck there taking selfies before the girl drew her arm back and slapped Buck’s ass hard. 

He couldn’t have heard it, not from across the room, but Eddie felt the stinging crack like it was landing on his own skin and he jolted in his chair just as Buck jolted against the bar and whirled around. 

The girl cackled, her hands coming up to cover her mouth as her laugh bent her forward. “Oh my god!” she said, enunciating enough that her lips were easy to read. “I had to. I had to.” 

Running a hand over his hair, Buck forced himself to try and smile while she kept laughing. She mimed the action again and Buck kept that strained, toothy grin in place even as his face turned bright red and he flinched away from her. 

“What happened?” Chimney asked, catching sight of Eddie’s clenched jaw and then turning to look over his shoulder at Buck and a pretty girl smiling at each other. “Oh. That. Guess it’s gonna be a while for that round.”

Already sliding out of his chair, Eddie replied, “No, it’s not.” 

He was overreacting. What he’d just seen was tasteless. It was harassment. But she was hardly the first person to view a public figure as public property and Eddie had certainly had strange hands on him more than a few times in his career. Buck could handle it on his own. Already he was crouching down to the girl’s height so she could take the selfie she’d come over for and then she’d be on her way. 

Except. Eddie had seen the picture behind the bar in St. Louis. He knew, or at least he had a pretty strong feeling, that Buck had been watching his own back for way too long now. It didn’t matter that it was just a stupid handsy fan in a bar. Eddie wasn’t just going to look the other way while Buck gritted his teeth and forced a smile to get through it. 

After the photo, they both straightened. Buck put his hand on the girl’s shoulder and said something to her that should have sounded like “goodbye” if she had any ability to read a social cue. Instead, she clasped her hands together in a pleading way and said something else. Buck sighed and held up a single finger, “One more.” 

She squealed and handed the phone to one of her friends and Eddie had to stop while a small crowd moved in front of him on their way to their table. When he was finally able to get through, the two of them weren’t posed for a picture yet. The girl had one hand on Buck’s elbow, tugging like she was trying to get him to turn and had her other hand on the bartop, demonstrating what she wanted to do. 

“... So your butt is, like, sticking out. And then I’ll just hold my hand up like I’m going to smack it, but I won’t. I promise.” 

“Um,” Buck said, scratching the back of his head with his free hand. “What if we just do another regular one? You know, of- of our faces?” 

Pulling a little harder on his arm, she pouted, “But this’ll be so much better! I’ll even tag you in it. Come on.”

“Or maybe you should consider yourself lucky you got one picture and let my friend enjoy the rest of his night,” Eddie said, finally coming up beside them and resting a hand on Buck’s back. 

“Holy shit,” the other girl said. “You’re Eddie fucking Diaz.” 

The first girl’s expression soured and she said, “He said he didn’t mind.” 

“I’m sure he did,” Eddie replied. “Let go of him.” 

She dropped Buck’s arm like he was somehow offending her and Buck moved unconsciously to rub where she’d been holding. His face was deep, deep red.

Quietly, he said, “She asked, Eddie.” 

“I saw her.”

“Hey, um, Mr. Diaz?” the second girl asked, taking a hesitant step closer. “Could we maybe take a picture with you? Too?”

“No,” Eddie said flatly and Buck winced at his side. “And if you don’t all want to get thrown out of this bar for touching someone without asking, I better not see you again.”

At first, he thought the girl who hit Buck was going to argue. She glared at Eddie like if she had gloves to drop, they’d be on the ground and he glared back. Dealing with young punks was part of his job description. They were always just like this: brash, with unearned cockiness that crumbled the second they were told “no” for the first time and Eddie dropped them on their ass. 

About half the time they came up swinging, but Eddie refused to answer for clean hits and he refused to let his team do it either. He’d stare the punks down, calmly and placidly, while they raged until some of their teammates with more sense came to collect them.

“Lacey, come on. Let’s go. Come on.” The second girl reached out and tugged at Lacey’s shirt until the set of her shoulders relaxed and she finally backed down. 

“Asshole,” Lacey finally spat before letting herself be dragged away. 

Eddie rolled his eyes as he watched her go and both he and Buck kept eyes on the group until they vanished into the crowd. 

“Great,” Buck said, shrugging off Eddie’s hand. “Thanks for that. Can’t wait to read that post in the morning.” 

He hunched in on himself as he turned back toward the bar, leaning on his elbows but keeping his legs tucked underneath him so he didn’t provide any sort of target. As the bartender passed, Buck lifted his hand to wave him down and got a return nod that he was next. The blush was still dark on his cheeks and as Buck ducked his head, Eddie realized Buck was hiding his embarrassment from him. 

“So what?” he said. “It’s a random post from some fan nobody knows. Who’s gonna care?”

Buck rubbed his hands through his hair again and said something at the ground.

“What did you say?”

“I said I care,” Buck replied, pushing himself up to face Eddie. “Maybe it doesn’t matter if Eddie Fucking Diaz gets accused of being a dick to some girl in a bar, but it sure as hell matters if I do.”

“Buck-”

“You should have just stayed at the fucking table. Why didn’t you just-”

Landing at last in front of Buck, the bartender said, “Hey. What can I get you?”

“Hey,” Buck replied, immediately smothering the irritation in his voice. “Can I get a white wine, a Stella, and a Valley Girl?”

“Sure thing.”

“Guess I’ll get my own then,” Eddie huffed, unable to stop his eyebrows from lifting in surprise. Buck was upset, obviously, but he didn’t think-

“I got yours,” Buck snapped. “You’ll like it. It’s real beer.”

It was hard to reconcile his tone with the reference to the day they’d spent together back in November. The first day Eddie had let himself think that maybe the divorce papers shoved in his glove compartment weren’t the worst thing in the world to ever happen to him after all. Of course Buck remembered. Of course Buck had gotten him a beer. Even when everything about his posture said he wanted to dump it over Eddie’s head. 

He left the bottle behind for Eddie to carry and snatched up Maddie’s wine and Chimney’s beer, turning quickly enough to almost spill both of them, and then Buck stalked across the bar. 

Twice he almost collided with someone and ended up with their beer and his spilled across the floor. It didn’t slow Buck down at all. He plowed through the crowd, making the journey in half the time it had taken the first time, and when he arrived back at the table, he set both glasses down with a force that finally sent the contents sloshing. 

“Sorry,” he said, looking around for a napkin and then, finding none, wiping the table with his shirt sleeve. Arriving right behind him, Eddie rested a hand between Buck’s shoulder blades, but when he jerked straight up, throwing his shoulders back to throw off Eddie’s hand, Eddie retreated instantly. But he didn’t sit down. 

Maddie had a small stack of napkins on her left and she frowned as she grabbed them and pushed her brother’s hand out of the way, saying, “Oh, Buck.” 

“Sorry,” he said again. 

“No, it’s okay,” she said. “It’s just a little bit.”

“Where’s yours?” Chimney asked, taking another napkin from the stack and helping Maddie to mop up. “Did they run out of everything that tastes like pine trees and socks?”

Shaking his head, Buck answered, “I, um. I’m gonna skip this round. Just gonna head out back and get some air.” When Maddie’s eyebrows went up, Buck held up a hand and added, “If- if- if that’s okay with you. We could go or I could stay here if you want. If you need me to.” 

“Buck, are you okay?” Maddie asked. A tiny crease appeared between her eyebrows as she scanned Buck’s face with a worried expression and, for the first time, Eddie saw the resemblance between them. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Buck said, with a “what are you even talking about?” expression that was protesting way too much. “It’s just getting warm in here. I wanna… get some air.” 

He deflated a little as he repeated the words as if he knew they weren’t enough of an explanation but the real answer would take too much effort to share. Eddie’s hands itched to reach for him again, to build the shelter that Buck was so desperately trying to retreat to, but Buck had thrown him off twice now and Eddie wasn’t going to make him do it a third time.

[ectokelpeigh]

I’ve thought of a real simple AU only one thing is different but I feel like it could change a bit. Danny inherited Jacks’s build so he’d taller and thicker but his personality is mostly the same.

He’d probably A, be a bit more athletic and that might cause Dash and Kwan to be more his friends then bullies. And B, have a slightly easier time fighting ghost because he’d be a flying wall instead of a beanpole.

I’m not sure what else would change though. What do you think and do you got any ideas for this AU.

Ahh. Okay one of Danny's core traits for me is that he's a dweeb. Dweebs come in all shapes and sizes! But for A, I have a hard time seeing Danny fit in with the popular group and still being Danny. Unless you threw in some bigtime Imposter Syndrome or something? Like, he can be large and hang with the cool kids but he's gotta be a geek on the inside, at least.

Not that all large people are comfortable in their skin. I could see Danny being the "has no idea how to handle taking up so much space" flavor of Large Person. You know the shy tall kids who constantly look like they're hunched down?? I bet invisibility and intangibility would be a relief...

This isn't all to imply he's shy in canon per se. I'm mostly thinking of the beginning of the show, where he's dealing with all his new powers that he can't control, and now it's that much harder for him to hide. Being a little guy and a loser in canon is an advantage when it comes to keeping his identity a secret, you know? I guess being friends with Dash and Kwan would be helpful in this AU based on the amount of times he simply hid behind Tucker and/or Sam to go ghost in canon. Imagine Absolute Unit!Danny crouching behind Tucker

As for B.... I'm not quite with you. The fun of ghost powers (to me at least) is they don't rely on physical size. Wee lads can pack a punch against giant dragons. I hc that ghosts' powers are reflective of energy, whether it's spiritual, psychological, etc. Ghosts are everything that someone had within them in life without the physical bounds of a meatsuit. I think the most fun you can have in this scenario is having Danny, used to having imposing size and brute force as an advantage, being in for a surprise when Poindexter kicks his ass at first.

So I think Danny's fighting style could still be different! But only as different as his build shaped him. How has not being short and scrawny changed how he interacts with the world, and vice versa? If he's a big guy and he's friends with Dash and Kwan, are we assuming he plays/played football? Jack's built like a lineman, so Danny wouldn't be used to being the center of attention (at least on the field). He would be more used to using brute force, though, so maybe he sticks to hand-to-hand combat even when he discovers his more long-range abilities.

I do love post-canon stories where Danny's hit a crazy growth spurt. This is less because it reflects him growing into the larger than life he's become by the end of the show, more because I love a scenario where he's fiiiiiinally hit his stride with his powers and then oopsy! He's got to deal with this completely mundane clumsiness like so many ordinary humans. Thank god he can fly, because he's constantly tripping over these new stupid long legs.

[sightofspira]

Sight without Seeing & Singing your Song

Two cute, bitesized ficlets exploring Nagi & Idate’s relationship between themselves and with whale-song. Technically set in the Final Fantasy X universe - but this is barely referenced. The only context needed: Nagi & Idate live with Rock and share a single room and bed. Rock sleeps in the living room. It’s cramped and awful and really not the best, but it’s what they have. Idate is essentially Nagi’s dad after she lost her father at a young age.  -- PART 1: SIGHT WITHOUT SEEING.  He came in the room, instantly recognisable by the stench of tobacco that clung to him. He shuffled around in his coat, throwing it carelessly on the floor and kicking something out of the way as he, with a groan, collapsed into bed. Nagi shuffled, huffing and filling her cheeks with air. It wasn’t fair, the way he’d do that. Just burst in here out of nowhere, disturbing the quiet moments she had been savouring with herself and the room. Couldn’t be helped, she guessed, as the stench of cigarettes mixed stale with fresh and a trail of smoke passed across her vision. “There’s something wrong with you”, she stated, matter-of-factly, and curled away from him. 

“Haha. You really think so?” He replied, annoyingly shuffling around and doing who knows what, the whole bed rocking. “… Turn the light out”, she said, eyes focusing on nothing in particular. “Good grief,” he sighed. “You think that’s fair? Insulting me and then not even replying when I answer? You’re so rude.” “Just turn the light out. Rotten.” “Rotten?!” “Yeah.” He was laughing, a deep, wheezing laugh that briefly shot up into a whistle. “Damn. Okay. Guess we found out what was wrong with me then. Something’s gone and died in me, lungs folded up, liver turned to soup, pancreas rotting away.” “Just like an old man.” “Haha, wow. Looks like you’re rotten too. Seems like your heart’s gone.” Nagi turned and lifted her legs, but before she could kick him, the light flickered out. She sighed, the last annoying blip of light coming from his cigarette each time he stuck it in his stupid, crooked mouth. But, at least, a long blip of silence followed that - as he seemed to just enjoy his cigarette. She concentrated on the drifts of smoke, her mind unwinding to those abstract, pretty swirls. She watched the way his fingers played along the cigarette, the almost elegant shape his hand formed as he tapped ash onto the floor. But whatever serene thoughts she was having were quickly interrupted. “Hey, so. Why don’t we find out?” She groaned, pulling the covers up over her head. “Find out what?” “What’s gone wrong in us. Where we’re all rotten. Play a bit of doctor diagnosis.” “…” “Come on Nagster.” “The only rotten thing is your mushy brain.” She rolled away from him, imagining a world where she was asleep. “Haha, maybe. Why don’t we find out. Sing.” And at that, her eyes snapped open. She swallowed her excitement, keeping her body still. But she couldn’t help but betray herself. not arguing against his every suggestion as she usually would - and let her lips gently open. It began with an eerie croak, like bubbles bursting in her throat. And then he began to sing, too, his croaking closer to clicks and more confident - a slow, rattling sound. But when he did that, oh, when they did that - it reshaped the world. Even though her eyes could only see the slight outline of the edge of her quilt, in her mind, she could see this whole room. Every inch of mess, every speck of dirt suddenly so vibrant and palatable, as though she could taste the room from the sound in her mouth. The stacks of unread newspapers and rolls of toilet paper and the salvaged mess of unneeded tech collected from god knows what corners of Spira. Each thing with its own distinct shape, forming like a texture in her mouth, in her throat, formed perfectly in her mind. And then, his voice encouraging her, she sang louder - excitement driving her confidence. Their voices melting through one another, the sound of the world as he saw it reverberating in her head and vice versa. The images he could see - beyond these paper-thin walls and rotten tiles, beyond their tiny living room and cluttered hallway, out into the streets. Colourless at first but married to their memories, the red of Bevelle a sharp sweet texture and they saw it together, their street with the cluster of markets and late-night partiers forming slowly. She could feel the hair on their skin, the stretch of their intestines, the way their stomaches pushed food and alcohol together as she felt them stumble, and for a moment, it was as if she was stumbling too. She grew drunk on this sight, this overwhelming sight that, as they sang more and more, was nothing like seeing. To see meant that she had to focus her eyes ahead of her, but this was like the whole street was within her mind all at once and all the torn papers and piss and dancing drunkards and spilled bottles and high buildings and sleeping children and arguing, loving, fighting, screaming, laughing adults were all at once part of her and him. And as they sang, she could see the individual indents on his lips, the scratches in his lungs, the rhythmic tug of his heart. And she laughed, she couldn’t help it. It just came with being so overwhelmed, that laugh soon mixing with his and they half laughed, half sang together. Half laughing, half singing, as they saw Rock get up from the sofa, angrily pacing towards the room, and they were giggling already at the thrill of being told off - long before he threw the door open. “Shut the fuck up! You sound like shitty old machina, grinding right in my fucking ear.” And that was that for their singing, because then they were just laughing. And yet, for all she’d searched his body for rotting parts - for all she’d scanned his brain and it’s infinite network of pulsing electric this way and that, she hadn’t been able to see any of that darkness that would soon take him away. So then, for then, she just laughed.

PART TWO: SINGING YOUR SONG.  They went to the ocean, hand in hand. It wasn’t like this was the first time they had ever gone, but it was the first time that he asked her to sing. She couldn’t remember how old she was, but old enough to remember the cold wind lashing the surface of the water and the fear that those thundering waves might push them under for good. He had covered her eyes, she remembered, so that she would not be afraid. The warmth of his skin on his face and cupped in her hand was enough to distract her from the ocean’s bite as it rose up over her dress, over her chest, over her head. Her breath stopped, and they walked beneath the roar of the waves and into a pocket of dark calm below. He did not lift his fingers from her eyes, and she remembered walking for what felt like a forever, and yet her lungs did not yet burn with that urgent need to get to the surface. And then he lent down, lips so close to her ear, and told her, ‘sing’. She started with a gurgling noise much like the ocean around her, letting it tremble out and turn into a gasp as images came flooding in. So, so much quicker than on the land - so much further, so much clearer, a wave of hyper-focused detail flooding her mind. It made those cute little sing-songs they did in bed together seem like surrealist paintings. He did not uncover her eyes, but he didn’t need to. In just one small trill of clicks she’d seen every pore of leather in his gloves, the tendons beneath pulling ever so slightly, his blood pulsing like her heart, desperately beating against its prison like a bird in a coffin. And just like a bird, as she dared herself to sing again, a little louder this time - a pulse of sound overlaid with a barrage of clicks, she heard that great blue expanse and saw the sky. Just as he had told her about how far away the stars were, which was why their song could never reach them, why staring up at those dark heavens scared her so much as it was a world beyond her senses and that distance must have been forever long - so too, this ocean. Its depths unreachable, her sound dying out into a phase of unreadable black. And yet, unlike the sky, she could soar. And in just this one little song, she could hear, feel, taste a million heartbeats. Her singing growing louder, those million heartbeats multiplying. An overwhelming expanse of life, of things swimming and playing and killing and eating and fleeing and singing, singing just like her, a thousand million trillion beating hearts all screaming out ‘I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive’. This whole ocean, as far as her sound would go, seemed to breathe and hum with life, with so many things jostling to declare in their proud heartbeats - I’m here, I exist, I’m alive. And there, so close to her, that unique pulse and pull, that sound that could only be his. He was so close it was as though her own internal sounds mixed with his, a blur of heartbeats that marched together, a genetic miracle that she could taste in her own mouth. And then he sang. A whirl of clicks and pulses, long and short, crashing against her mind. A wail of images, the ocean overlapping in her head and the detail overwhelming, as though he was filling in the blanks in her voice, his calls both blurring and clarifying in a scrawled mess. But his heartbeat, his shape of his mind, his lungs, his gurgling blood his fluttering eyelashes his slight twitch in his mouth that she could see without seeing all seemed to be saying, ‘we’re alive, we’re alive, we’re alive.’ And he rejoiced in that sound, releasing his hand from her face and swirling away from her, drifting in an long arch and singing his song. Singing the ocean’s song. And she could not help but feel, as they whistled in unison, that their images blended together. That their shapes lost themselves in their own calls, that the universe blurred into an endless expanse of heartbeats and twitching gills and flashing tails and fins and bodies, their own image so helplessly lost in amongst that - even as her eyes saw only the dark and the flecks of light from far above. And yet she knew the unique quake of his heart, knew how to pinpoint it in amongst the billions of others - knew it because it was the same as her own. He looked at her, the colour of his eyes she could see and the feel of them she could hear. He smiled at her, a long, pointy toothed smile whose tongue gums skull brain and the beat of neurones she could feel behind it all. And she twirled, as though the waves really had pushed her down, and she forgot if she or he or both were singing and for a moment, dissipated. She closed her eyes. It was as though all her skin, bones, self just melted away - as though none of that ever really mattered, and there was just this. Their song. That heartbeat. This singing sea. When she opened her eyes again, he was long gone. The ocean was just as full as it always had been, with different actors and a different chorus of heartbeats all singing out. And though she knew her heartbeat so well, because it was the same as his - what it said was something different. She thrust her head out above the waves, and breathed in the empty sky. 

[quixotic-writer]

Hello darlings! Let me properly introduce myself:

✨I’m Suki | they/them are the pronouns I use | 21 years of age✨

I wanted to make this pinned post so you could get to know me a bit and the space I have created on this blog!

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To start:

This is a place NOT open to those who are homo/transphobic, MAPs, racist, alt-right, anti-feminist, and so on. You will be blocked.

If you come here to start discourse, harass others, or send mean/hateful comments/asks/messages, you also will be blocked.

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I want this to be a safe space for myself and EVERYONE. So long as you treat me and other community members with the utmost respect, you will be treated with the same respect that you deserve.

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Q x Reader Master-list

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While my blog is mostly IJ, I do have other interests including and aren’t limited to: five nights at Freddy's game series, animal crossing, music and bands galore, and many other things! I’m not super strict on keeping a theme and will occasionally reblog things that I want on my blog such as some positive reminders, music, or funny text posts. This is my blog and I like to post whatever makes me happy whether it’d be a gif set of the guys, some music I'd like to share, or just random thoughts I have to keep things interesting.

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As far as writing goes: I do write both sfw and nsfw but I do tag everything properly and put warnings on my fics as well. You can send in a request whenever you like but that doesn’t mean it’s something that I will get to right away due to school scheduling, personal things, and I do find myself in the occasional slump where I just can’t write. I am willing to write almost anything HOWEVER, I can turn down a request if I don’t feel comfortable writing it. Things I will NEVER write include and aren’t limited to: incest, pedophilia, non-consensual related themes, and again, anything I don’t personally feel comfortable writing.

~ ♡ ~

I love getting asks, don’t be shy at all! You can ask just about anything (within reason of course) or send in some ask prompts that you’ll see me occasionally reblog and I will answer to the best of my ability. I’m a fairly open book!

~ ♡ ~

I love making new friends and talking to others, but honestly i’m super shy and anxious and will probably never initiate a conversation. I DON'T HATE YOU! I just have a hard time talking to new people and starting convos because I feel like I'm bothering people. I also sometimes might not respond super fast because I might not have the energy to hold a convo or I might be busy. AGAIN, NOTHING PERSONAL! Just a wee bit messy, y’know? Also I have a tendency to say “dude,” “bro,” “babe,” “darling,” “sweetheart,” and “lovely” a LOT. If I call you any of these and it bothers you please tell me!!

~ ♡ ~

With that:

Welcome to my blog!

hope you stay a while and have a good time!

[giuliafc]

Chinese horoscopes and Miraculous

Hi there!

I actually wrote this article for a Facebook group during the summer, but i had completely forgotten about it until I read the very in-depth analysis of Kagami's role in the series written by @geekgirles . There, she mentioned the bit in Ikari Gozen that had got me started on this research, so I thought why not? let's 'delight' you with this indepth analysis of the four characters of Marinette, Adrien, Luka and Kagami based on what we know of their zodiac signs in the Chinese horoscope. There are a couple of things that may surprise you.

First of all, let's put a lovely wee "keep reading" tag, so it doesn't clog your board, because it's a little long (ah, the understatement!)

Now. Here we are and if you clicked on carry on reading it means that you may be interested so... welcome welcome.

Apologies for the length

Let's first of all talk about how the Chinese horoscope can give us a clue as of the characters age and date of birth.

In Ikari Gozen we find out that Marinette is a Snake in the Chinese horoscope. This narrows the search for her date of birth to two very precise years. 2013 or 2001. Now... counting that if she was born in 2013 she would be 7 now, it's most likely that she's born in 2001. In the French edition she is revealed instead to be a Leo. Which places her birthday in late July/beginning of August 2001. Kagami instead is revealed to be a Dragon, and a Scorpio, which places her birthday around November 2000. In an official Marinette’s Instagram post her birthday has been revealed as the 20th of November, IIRC.

Now... not only this is a great deal of trivia information for us fans, which also helps us place the timeline of the story, which hasn't yet reached a full year in Canon from the start (in the Felix episode it's revealed that it's the first anniversary of Emilie’s disappearance. Hence in 3 series the story has advanced only by less than one year). It also helps up place the birthdays of some other characters.

Adrien for example. His birthday was series 1 episode 1, quite far from Marinette's birthday in Befana. So it's likely that he's a dragon like Kagami (which would also make sense thinking that Kagami is a character that mirrors Adrien's life and situation. But this isn't the place to discuss such thing, i refer to the very well developed article written by @geekgirles if you want to know more). A lot of people have theorised that he may be a Libra and be born maybe at the beginning of October, but of this I have no proof.

However, coming back to the Dragon sign it gets even more interesting, guys. If one of you have got more in-depth information and this comes up to be wrong I do apologise. I performed quite of an extensive research on the subject but of course I'm no astrologist so I can be wrong. That said... Not only the Dragon is considered the sign of the Emperor in the Chinese horoscope, and a lucky sign (ha). But 2000 is also the year of the Golden Dragon (metal). What better description than a golden dragon for our handsome sunshine?

It gets even better when you get to the Dragon man's personality. Loves to be the centre of the attention. Natural flirts (ha! Touché Chat Noir!). Hot headed. Stubborn. Competitive. Naturally attracts money and women. Full of energy. Do I need any more proof that Adrien is a Dragon?

Let's see what the horoscope says about the Snake, and let's compare it to Marinette/Ladybug, so you understand why I'm pretty sure that the production looked this up quite in detail and that Chinese astrology can be at the base of our beloved characters.

So the Snake woman is intuitive, intelligent, reserved and mysterious, has deep thinking, a mind that goes a mile per minute. Because they are smart and come quickly to solutions, they are great in crisis situations. They're able to step back and consider workable solutions. They are determined, sensual and smart and have innate wisdom. Doesn't this speak Marinette AND Ladybug from a mile?

Now... Luka. Until last week we weren’t really that sure of how old Luka was, Astruc had said that he was a couple of years older than Marinette, but Zag’s website had highlighted that Luka was Juleka’s twin brother which, counting that Juleka was in Marinette’s class, didn’t make any sense. But last weekend Astruc has actually confirmed that Juleka has repeated a year and that yes, Luka is her twin brother.

Already before knowing this I had a look at the personality of the previous signs in the horoscope, and I had strong feelings that Luka may be a Rabbit, which would make him born in 1999 and one year older than Adrien. And this has been confirmed, so now we know. He is indeed a rabbit. Do you want proof? Rabbit men are calm, extraordinarily polite, and will do everything to avoid conflict. They have control over themselves and are sometimes conservatives. They can be considered a "yes-man", but have a line that they will never cross. They like organising, decorating, helping the wife/gf. They are great friends but don't like getting too close to someone. They are shy, introverted, honest, cuddle-lovers and attention givers. They are associated with the western sign of cancer, which is associated with the moon and the arts. Tell me if this doesn't speak Luka by a mile?

Now a little bit of trivia that will make you laugh is... in the Chinese horoscope the cat doesn't exist. The legend says that Buddha invited the animals to a dinner, and the mouse tricked the cat and didn't wake him up, making him miss out on being chosen for the horoscope. However in TAIWAN things are different and the Cat takes the place of the RABBIT in the horoscope. The confusion seems to come from the old Chinese word for Rabbit, Mao, which sounds like the Taiwanese word for Cat Mau. So the sign of the Rabbit is also the sign of the Cat. Oh the irony!!

Snakes are yin energy. Rabbits are also yin energy. Dragons are yang energy.

But it gets better! Let's look at love compatibility, shall we? *rubs hands* hehe...

Dragon man x Dragon woman (Adrien and Kagami) can be steamy and can work only if both have their own realm to shine on, because both are too competitive and can get into competition with each other. They love to be the centre of their world. They're great leaders but want the spotlight and don't settle for less. They're both independent and stubborn and their personality will clash, making it difficult to maintain the relationship going. They require a lot of love and admiration. They will never give in and apparently two dragons have a good physical relationship, mostly.

They CAN work together, but only if each has their own way to shine.

Sorry, Adrigami shippers.

Dragon man x snake woman (Adrien and Marinette): they can be an excellent couple. They find each other physically attractive. The dragon is bold and full of energy, the snake is appealing in a more subtle way. Excellent romantic relationship, they both have strong personalities that attract each other. They share a degree of savoir-faire that prevents serious concerns. The male dragon will be tempted to stray, but he will know better than doing that, because he knows very well that his companion has hidden poisonous fangs (lol) and is VERY jealous... so he will look but not touch (the wise one will at least). Snake women love success and attention, but they're not as flashy as dragon men so they will be more subtle. Snake women are self-possessive, devoted and can give a good boost of confidence to a dragon man. She will be better at handling finances than him (that wouldn't surprise me in adrienette!). They both like fine things but Snake will teach Dragon to not overspend. Little trivia: the dragon was the sign of the emperor and the snake was the advisor. So they work very well in tandem. Their union will be full of passion and personal satisfaction.

Adrienette is in the stars, guys.

Now last but not least... Snake woman x Rabbit/cat man (Luka and Marinette, but in a way even Chat Noir and Ladybug): very good couple too, they enjoy great conversation and have great time together. They make great friends. Snake loves the attention Rabbit gives and Rabbit is drawn by her sensuousness. They start as friends and have enticing conversations, which draws them together. When they start dating they realise they have similar tastes. They love cuddling in a hidden corner and will feel safe in their cosy nest to explore each other's sensuality. They can make a strong couple, unless their personalities start clashing. Rabbit can get annoyed at Snake's love for novelty and her extravagance, which may cause friction. If their temper clashes, they can't overcome differences.

So... Lukanette can work too, sorry guys. But as highlighted, it also works very well as a friendship. And sadly it's the same for Ladynoir...

What I find funny in all of this is that, if this is true, Luka has the Snake miraculous, Marinette is a Snake sign, Luka is a cat sign, Adrien is a cat miraculous, Adrien and Kagami are a dragon sign, Kagami is a dragon miraculous... Jesus what a circle! Add to the mix Marinette as the RAT miraculous and we have a real laugh… (if any of you has ever watched Fruit Basket, the Japanese anime about the Chinese horoscope, you know perfectly well what I’m talking about!) and Snake/Rabbit as friends and potential couple works for both Lukanette AND Ladynoir, counting that rabbit = cat. And then you think about how Chat Noir bounces on his baton and you think "yes that's a rabbit, indeed"!

Any thoughts?

(apologies if this reflection doesn’t make sense to you!)

[jafndaegur]

A Dazzling Catalyst for the Future

Zen x MC

Part One | Pro Figure Skater!MC AU

You'd been stuck at Rika's apartment for a few days now. Much to your coach's horror and your own chagrin. But you promised after the party you would still be able to make it to the Championships—grateful that this year they were held in Seoul—and that your "voluntary charity work" would not be getting in the way of your actual profession. After much insistence that this had been your idea and that you were not being held against your will, your coach had reluctantly allowed you to stay. Not like you really offered much of a choice. Seven ensured that.

But the illusion for both you, your coach, your sponsor, your curious fans. All of them were appeased at your spontaneous 11-day mission work you'd decided to partake in before the big day.

Speculators and sports announcers wondered if you were stalling the inevitable. At age twenty-six, you were basically on last tendrils of the sport. Some wondered if you would retire at twenty-eight, others figured this would be your last year.

The World Figure Skating Championships were no small deal after all.

This year's routines had been specialized for difficulty in particular to advance you as far as you could with just technical score... but with almost an entire two weeks away from the rink, you tried not to fear the worst.

Seven hardly allowed you to leave the apartment. Runs at the wee hours of the morning were all he risked, and only with complete tracking. Swallowing your pride you took what you could. Afterall, even as you tried your best—making impromptu workouts to take up the parts of the day not overrun with party business, and filling the rest of your time ceaselessly going over your choreography and jump sequences—your heart swelled as someone else tried his best.

Zen.

Out of the all RFA—without knowing who you were—he connected to you as a performer, entertainer, and storyteller before all else. He figured fast that you were an artiste of some sort. Although you didn't want to worry him with the fact that you desperately needed a place to practice, so you didn't mention exactly what sort of performer you were. When you sent a picture to the chatroom of the post-it notes you'd laid on the floor (which he claimed looked like the position tape on a stage) for your routine, it almost gave you away. Bit by bit, as you both talked and talked and talked, something else other than admiration wiggled it's way into your relationship. The smile in his voice gave it away whenever he called. Every pitter-patter of your heart betrayed yourself.

Every moment spent together whether in the messenger or in person nurtured a shy and fluttering romance.

Even when the world worked against you both with Echo Girl threatening Zen's career and Seven nearly blowing you to smithereens, still the passion and love flourished.

It wound its way around you both and tied you two in an inseparable and steadfast bow. Like laces on a pair of skates.

So as Zen sat chatting excitedly beside you during the night of the party, you couldn't shake the growing pit in your stomach. Tomorrow was the big day, not that the RFA party wasn't a big day, but this one...

Would there be another chance next year?

"Babe," Zen leaned down for you to hear him in the loud ambience of the lively atmosphere. "Your brow's doing that thing again. What's wrong?"

You worried your lip and wondered if you should just leave it be.

"Just tell me, MC." He laced his hand in yours, giving your arm a light encouraging tug.

You caved, not able to handle that soft upturn of his lips and the gentle furrow of his brows as he concentrated on you.

"I have a performance tomorrow afternoon."

No time passed before the panic swept over his face. "Why didn't you say anything?"

You shrugged weakly. "What could I do? It wasn't like I was allowed to leave until I was forced to... and then with the party—"

You hadn't even finished as Zen pulled you along. He spotted Jaehee in the crowd and called out to her. She waved at him and made her way over.

"Zen?"

"Jaehee, with all the trouble I caused, I shouldn't be asking this. But can you and Jumin cover for us?" Zen raised your hand a bit. "Please. It's urgent."

You tried to force away the blush on your cheeks.

She took one good look at you both before deflating just a bit, still Jaehee nodded and shooed you away. "Take the back exit. I'll make sure Mr. Han draws the reporters attention."

Giving your sincerest thanks, the two of you escaped out the back—surprisingly enough, someone as flashy as Zen could still be stealthy. He hailed a cab, and you both hopped in. Once you were seated, he took your hands in his and gave you a stern look.

"The minute we get home, you have to go to bed, m'kay? You need 8 hours of sleep and no less. What time do you need to be at the pre-performance rehearsal?"

You scratched the back of your head sheepishly. "There's only warm-ups. After that I'll be waiting with the other skaters until my routine."

"Wait," he murmured. "Skaters?"

"Yeah," you drawled, realizing you really probably should not have kept this a secret. "I'm a figure skater."

He stared at you for a moment before his hand braced his forehead in disbelief. "You're the missing skater they've been talking about on the news—your coach said you had a sudden change of heart and disappeared to do charity work before the competition started... That's why Jumin or Seven didn't want me announcing your name at the party."

"Unknown slipped me the phone on the way from the airport." You stared down at your hands. "This may very well be my last time on the ice as a skater. I can always take up coaching, but I had wanted one last chance to show...to prove..."

Your voice caught in your throat and you found that you couldn't find the words. Junior debut at fifteen, pro-debut at seventeen, you'd been chasing this dream of yours for as long as you could remember. And to fade into obscurity because you failed both programs in the last leg of your career tore at the flesh of your heart.

"Babe..." a mixture of emotions crossed his face. Anger, worry, frustration, it all painted that beautiful face of his before he exhaled and calmed. Wrapping his arm around your shoulder, he pulled you close. A silent camaraderie, his understanding of the things unsaid overwhelming you as you shook.

Needless to say, after a gentle kiss on the forehead, Zen guaranteed the moment you returned his place—you went almost instantly to bed.

...

You woke up alone in the bed. A half-hearted giggle worked it's way out of you as you went to the bathroom to wash up and get ready. The beast probably made him sleep on the couch.

You'd texted your coach ahead of time so he would bring your makeup and costume, you just needed to get ready and leave. You wondered if Zen had left for his own rehearsals when you found him hunched over his computer watching—to your chagrin—recordings of your past competitions. His chin rested on the back of his hands, and his lips pursed in an uncharacteristically serious frown. Honestly it was kind of cute.

You leaned against the doorframe, watching him with half-hooded eyes and a warm blossom in your chest. "Zenny?"

"Can I go?" He said, pulling his gaze from the computer to you. His hand reached out fingers outstretched to you. "I want to see your story unfold."

Your fingers interlocked with his and he tugged you over.

A smile seeped onto his face, and the determined look in his eyes sparked something bright and flashing in your stomach. "It's you MC, you won't go out with anything less than magnificence."

The confidence rushed you. If Zen cheered you on, there was nothing you couldn't do. "Of course you can come with." Your heart thundered in your chest, pounding against your ribcage as Zen jumped up with excitement to go get his motorcycle helmets. He was determined to get you to the rink earlier, you needed the best jump ahead of everyone if you didn't want to clearly display your disadvantage. The fact that he knew that, the fact that he took the time to study your style and technique and interpretation, the fact that he took the time to learn about you...

If you were going down after this, you were going down with Zen tracking the blazing wake of your passion. This story of yours wouldn't end on the ice, long after the fluttering tails of success faded from the limelight—a strong hand would continue to pull you forward into the conflagration of dazzling light. Because everywhere Zen went, he sparked a catalyst of inspiration.

And you wanted to do the same, with every spiral, with every leap, with every poise of grace. This sport had always been your dream, and into the future you were sure it would continue to be. Just now it was yours to share freely with the Adonis of Storytelling himself.

Clenching your fist, you grinned.

[mythharvester]

Over the next three weeks I intend to journal my dreams and use the info and my interpretations as the basis for a short story entitled Walking In My Shoes. Each day I will probably be a chapter and I will eventually post each chapter.

Chapter One DAY ONE - What A Year.

He woke to the ping of his mobile phone going off. Resisting the urge to immediately check the phone Cassidy tried to centre himself. He must have nodded off reading, his Ipad was next to him. The room was dark and peaceful but the pull of technology got to him and he reached over to check his messages. It was 10:30, he had a new message. "HAPPY New Year! Not quite there yet, they probably decided they won't make it to midnight so triggered the message early.

Still it was 10-30 on December 31. 2020 was all but done, a year that will go down in history no doubt, a year that even the youth will remember, the year the world shutdown. As he lay in the dark an urge popped into his head, he Laughed at the notion that even his thoughts had a Scottish accent. (say a wee prayer for everybody big yin don't be shy, its been a hard yin for everybody, it's no goin tae dae ye any herm ). He Laughed again at the fact he was having a debate with himself then he closed his eyes and asked for the right words.

Thank you heavenly father for the challenges you have provided us this year. Please accept our brothers and sisters who have departed us into your loving arms. Continue to shine your light on those who dedicate themselves to providing support, assistance and solutions to those who require their attention. Thank you for guiding us to a working vaccine. Lastly holy father, please continue to shower us with your holy spirit so that more of us can walk a path of empathy, understanding, compassion, forgiveness, humility and unconditional love. Thy will be done.

Ping, whose this one from? Happy New Year.

He dragged his attention away from the phone and focused his thoughts on reflection. "The year that was! How did he feel about his year? Was he happy how it unfolded? What were the main changes he had noticed? Did he feel like he moved forward?

As he pondered over the year he felt a shift almost like a synchronisation as he connected with his truth.

Overall it had been a fantastic year. Ok, that book is still not written, but from a spiritual point of view he has moved forward dramatically and he was writing blogs and maybe honing his skills. He felt happy and at peace. The first shift he recalled Happened in May. It creeped up on him a bit, and he did not realise it till September when he was reading about it. He stopped worrying about stuff. Kay serra serra. The second shift happened in October, the power of intention at work. 10 months of setting intentions to, be a beacon of light, be kind, compassionate, forgiving, non-judgmental and he noticed himself consciously stepping around insects, his natural instinct to seek to kill any fly or spider in the room was gone. No longer squashing ants that find there way onto his office desk. Being in tune to the oneness of nature.

So what now its a new year, 2021, a new beginning, where to now? Honestly he thought I'm still a long way from Enlightenment and truthfully he was not sure he wanted to get that high up the mountain. Fact is he would be satisfied if in 2021 he reached a level of joy, of unconditional love, the level of healing.

As he Lay on his bed, the room still dark, breathing deeply, relaxing he could feel the Project Manager in him butting into the room.

Lets map out what worked for you in 2020. So the list began.

His four anchors:

• Maybe- the importance of acceptance, detachment from

outcome. Good news, bad news, Maybe, smile, this

too shall pass. Good fortune can also change so make it a simple process to release stuff. Live life with a mind open to anything.

• Frozen-emotions can be really powerful chains to

break away from. If we hold a glass of water at arms length it is not a burden, however 6 hours Later our arm is shaking, emotions are worse if we hang on to anger, jealousy, resentment we get bitter. Frozen is the cartoon-its about the song. Let it go. More of Wayne Dyers 10 principles, "There are no justified resentments and you can't give what you don't have. (if you squeeze an orange you get orange juice, squeeze an angry person you get anger.) Fill yourself with love what will come out when you get squeezed? Let it go! Forgive and moves on. Let it go.

• Is that so- increase the gap between stimulus

and response, don't react, don't defend yourself or your opinions, you don't need to prove you are right, to win. Acceptance, we are all one, I see you brother and I see God's high in you.

• Edith Pieff-No regrets, there is no such thing

as a bad decision, only the best choice available to us at that time. Sing it Edith.

What else worked? The long drive Mondays and Fridays and taking the opportunity to listen to audiobooks. In fact being informed that the the New Testament vibrates over 700 and that keeping things that vibrate that high close raises your own vibration is the reason I've been sleeping next to it and reading it.

Then there was using cards to set daily intentions in line with his quest to raise his vibration.

It still surprises him how, more often than not the card he pulls is so pertinent to what is going on at the time.

Oh and obviously there are the fundamentals of meditation and prayer. Find silence, find God? and ask and it is given, Dear Lord, how may I serve, why am I here? how can I help raise the consciousness level?

Enjoying lying back on the bed in the dark he thought the List is getting a bit long but he believed the little writing course he did deserved to be in there. It got him back on track with his writing but more importantly the fact that some of the others got him interested in Angels and spirit guides. (Live life with a mind open to anything) It led in his belief to the second shift. Talking to them as part of his bedtime ritual asking for guidance led to some surprising synchronicity.

He checked his watch 11.45 almost midnight, almost a new year, almost 2021, a new beginning. he felt alive and his thoughts went through the motions of his strategies and connections that helped him make the progress in 2020. More of the same was his initial thought, but as usual with thoughts his brain filled with with the cry-You can't solve a problem at the level it was created. You need a breakthrough, a new teacher. In a world where 78% of the population calibrate below the level of integrity and only 4% get to where you want to go or higher you are going to need something else to help get to the next camp on the mountain. As the relaxed and focused on his breaths he knew there was something he was missing. Like those times you maybe know a song, its on the tip of your tongue but, it's not there. The one that jumps into your head 3 hours later and slaps you in the face.

He focused on his breathing, in breath, out breath. Ping, Happy New Year, Midnight or in Scotland, the Bells. As his thoughts wandered to his homeland it came to him. The audio book on rising up the calibration scale. What the orator said. "In my experience progression to this level comes after the person manages to open their third eye.

Six days Later he woke to the alarm, time to get up for work, another crazy dream? He thought it was similar to the previous 5 nights. Since new year! Was there something in that? He had been asking his angels, spirit guides, and higher self for guidance and assistance to help open his third eye.

Showered and dressed in his hi-vis protective clothing he absentmindedly picked up his deck of Angel cards and started shuffling. He stopped and pulled his card for the day. His card was Dreams. It always makes him Laugh when it happens (thinking about a subject, pull that card). He pulled the book to find out what the card meant. Turns out the universe was involved, The angels want him to record his dreams so he will remember the messages they will deliver to him. Are these messages going to enable him to open his third eye? Will this be a case of when the student is ready the teacher appears?

Later that evening he meditated for a while and got into bed. Holy Father, my guardian angels, my angels, spirit guides, my higher self and ascended masters I give you permission to join me in my dreams and please guide me and help me to clear and unblock my Chakras and open up my third eye. Help me to remember my dreams and to interpret any signs or messages I need to help me on my journey. Thy will be done.