#I've hardly ever done backgrounds

[theecholegend]

A strange unfinished messy drawing I did forever ago

[lucidfairies]

money [a.a]

pairing: ceo!abby x secretary!reader

synopsis: when you finally land the job of your dreams, you had no idea what your boss would be like. and damn, no idea you conjured could've done her justice.

warnings: top!abby, bottom!reader, age gap (reader is in her 20s, abby is in her early 40s), cunnilingus (r/a receiving), strap (r!receiving), praise + degradation, mommy kink, dirty talk, manhandling, pet names (sweetheart, sweet girl, angel, baby, whore, slut)

word count: 3.3k

it wasn't everyday that you landed a job with one of the most well known law firms in washington. for now you were just a secretary, someone to sit outside of an office and take calls, but your hope was to work your way up to one of their lawyers.

you had little prior experience with being a secretary, but it was just enough to get you this gig. the building was large, and the office you were to assist was on one of the highest floors, naturally where the head of the firm was.

you knew her, abby anderson. incredibly talented lawyer who even won over a supreme court case. though you hadn't met her in person, you were exhilarated to meet her. she was who you dreamed to be, especially by her age.

it wasn't until your third day, when abby was finally in the office, when you got a glimpse of what working here would actually look like. abby showed up in a well pressed black suit, armani logo drilling into your eyes like a laser, making you feel all that underdressed.

"do I know you?" she asked when you knocked gently on her office door and went in. she truly didn't mean to be rude - her son had been sick for three days and she was feeling it now - but you didn't know that. you automatically assumed she was an asshole, and that threw you off.

you cleared your throat, meeting her eyes and immediately shifting them again. she was intimidating, almost scary. "I'm y/n. I'm your new assistant." she looked you up and down, gaze still burning your skin, and the corner of her mouth turned up to a smirk.

"great. I take my coffee black, nothing in it. there will be a card on your desk that you can charge it to every morning. get yourself something. I expect you to leave before I do, as I stay late. by any chance, do you babysit?" your eyes found hers as you finally looked up.

"I mean, I can. I used to when-" she cut you off, uninterested in anything except the yes. you noted that for later.

"I might need you to pick up my son from school every couple weeks. not often, and certainly not until I've run a background check on you." she wasn't hardly looking at you now, eyes flipping between her papers and computer. "did I miss anything?"

"no ma'am," you said, standing up and instinctively wiping off your skirt, though there was nothing there. suddenly you were back at your desk, waiting for calls and bookings to come in while trying to make sense of that interaction.

the next day you arrived late, but in your defense, the line at the coffee place was long and traffic was even longer, and now you weren't even sure that the coffee was hot. abby was there when you gently knocked on her door, allowing your entry with a low 'come in.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, there was really bad traffic and the line-"

"it's okay, sweet girl." your stomach flipped. yesterday, when your eyes knew nothing but the floor, you hadn't exactly taken in her appearance, but today. today.

today she was in a black turtleneck, sleeves right around the muscle in her arms that just made her look so, so good. her black slacks were tight at her hips with a belt, and they were hugging her legs so tight that you were sure the seam would rip.

her hair was pulled into a nice bun and she wore no makeup, not that she ever needed to. she had freckles, beautiful eyes. rings. she had rings, that she could put inside of you any day.

"I'll be on time tomorrow, miss." your gaze dropped again as you turned to leave her office. this was surely going to be nothing but torture for the following months.

two weeks later was the first time she asked you to stay late. you originally had plans, but the way your name dripped off of her tongue like honey made you immediately cancel them. she had asked you politely to pick up her son, and you even acquired her number from the ordeal.

dealing with kids was not your specialty, but abby's son was a delight. he talked all about his mom, some about his dad and it made you wonder if abby was single or not. she never wore a ring to your knowledge, not even on a necklace, and from your speculation she almost looked like a lesbian. maybe you were just dreaming about the end.

if you had taken your apartment and multiplied it by ten, it still wouldn't be half the size of abby's house. she truly did have money, if the armani suits and porsche didn't say that already.

an hour into your babysitting, which almost just felt like hanging out with a kid in a mansion, abby got home. she walked in, greeting you with the first real smile you had ever seen on her face. your brain malfunctioned when you gently placed her hand on your arm and pressed an innocent kiss onto your cheek.

you were blushing profusely, pupils blown, almost dizzy, all she did was kiss your cheek, a very normal way of greeting someone and you were fucked. abby didn't fail to see you run your fingers over the spot and look at them before quickly turning back towards the two of them.

abby lived for it. lived for the you drooled over everything she did, lived for the way that she was sure her fingers would look so, so good in your mouth... and she tried not to think about it. how could she, when her son was standing right next to her, trying to tell her about his day, and you. you just looked so innocent.

you were engulfed in her smell, the perfect balance of pine and amber and erotica. she smelled like five hundred dollar cologne right off the shelf of valentino. you wanted to smell like that, wanted to smell like that, wanted to wear her clothes and have everyone think that you were together.

"thanks for coming, sweetheart. I'll see you on monday." you looked at her with your brows knit, knowing you had work the following day, friday. "take the day off. you did something for me, and I'm repaying you. use my card and get something."

the amount of money she had to just throw around was so attractive to you. she was an independent woman who brought in millions every year and was letting some secretary she had known for three weeks let buy anything on a day off.

monday had arrived, and you had purchased nothing with abby's card, naturally. you weren't one to spend someone's money just because they had a lot of it, or because they told you to. she would've had to buy it for you to accept it, at that.

it was nearing eleven when abby called you into her office by your first name, instead of one of the many nicknames she always seems to use. "sit." she demanded as you stepped in, and you did so.

"is something wrong, ms. anderson?" she wasn't mad, but she was irritated. she told you to do something, told you to put yourself first and you didn't.

"I told you to treat yourself on friday," her gaze left her laptop and met your eyes. "why didn't you?" you blanked for a moment.

"I just.. I didn't feel right spending money that wasn't mine." she gave you a disapproving look, before getting up and coming around her desk to stand in front of you. in a matter of moments, one of her large hands was grabbing your jaw and forcing your head up to look at her.

she bent down slightly, lips grazing over yours, and you were sure she could feel how much your face heated up. "next time I tell you to do something, you're going to do it. understand, sweet girl?"

"I don't-" your pupils were blown and you were so desperate for her to press her lips just a bit closer, fill the gap and just let you have it.

"say 'yes abby'."

"y-yes abby." she let go of your face and went back to her desk, pretending to pay you little attention, but she was acutely aware of the way you pushed your thighs together and squirmed.

"you're dismissed. I expect to see a charge by the morning." you got up and hurried out, going straight to the bathroom. your face was burning up, and you could vaguely see an imprint from her hand.

you were meaninglessly circling the mall, trying to decide what to spend this newfound money on. obviously you wouldn't get something big and glamorous, no matter how much she seemingly wanted you to.

every time you walked, you seemed to pass victoria's secret. It seemed like it was calling you to buy something, and after that interaction with abby earlier, you decided that maybe you should treat yourself and went in.

you looked around for a while before finding a cute blue set, with embroidered, lacy flowers. it was nothing special, just transparent and high waisted, but it was speaking to you. suddenly you knew what you were wearing to work the next day.

- - -

you felt completely scandalous wearing a short little skirt over the lingerie in the morning, with a button down, where the first few buttons were unbuttoned. it was different from your usual dress pants and blouse, but it definitely did what you needed it to do.

work was as usual for the majority of the morning, and you were suddenly doubting why you wore what you did. there was no point, you were seriously delusional and seriously needed help. what kind of freak where's lingerie and completely inappropriate work clothes to work after one minor interaction with their boss?

that was until you got a simple email from ms. anderson herself, reading nothing but;

my office. now, please.

you cleared your throat, brushed out your hair slightly and adjusted your shirt before nonchalantly entering her office. you sat, observing the way she remained quiet for a moment before clearing her desk and turning her attention towards you.

“did you think I wouldn't realize?” she asked, cooly, with her eyebrows raised slightly. “I mean, props to you, you did as you were told. but I checked the card. I'm not the only one who can see the transactions on that card either, sweetheart.”

you were immediately red. who else could see them? “I didn't r-really think-”

“no, you didn't. I bet the men in my finances would love to see you dancing around in whatever you bought, wouldn't they, baby?” she was standing before you could think, hands resting on the handles of your chair. “why don't you show me, huh? I know you're wearing it.”

“I'm not- we can't do that here.” you looked around, though you knew no one would ever bother her and her office had no cameras. “we're at work, abigail.” there was a fast switch in her eyes, the way they went from cocky to wide, almost needy.

“fuck,” her head dropped into the crook of your neck before she ran her nose along your jaw. “say it again. please, baby.” her tone, the gentle pleading made any rational thoughts disappear from your mind. your hand wrapped around the collar of her button down and pulled her in gently.

“abigail,” you whispered, “I want this,” with that, her hands were everywhere, all at once. she was pulling you up, wrapping her large hands around your hips as she pulled you in for a harsh kiss. she was forcing you onto her desk, keeping her lips to yours as your bodies molded to each other.

she left your lips, finding a perfect spot on your neck and sucking. you gasped when you felt her hand undoing the buttons of your shirt and pulling it out of your skirt. you were grabbing her by her waist trying to pull her closer as she continued to mark up your neck and grab your tits.

when she finally pulled away from your neck, her eyes became wide looking at your lingerie clad tits. you slid your shirt the rest of the way off and tossed it, looking up at her as you began to unbutton hers. she didn't let you get very far before she was gently pushing you back until your back was against the cool wood of the desk.

she unclipped your bra and pulled it off, tongue immediately meeting your nipple. she bit it and you yelped, grabbing her shoulders. her large hand was messing with your other, tugging gently and kneading. "I love your tits so fucking much, baby.” she mumbled into your skin while she kissed down your stomach.

she left more hickies on your ribs, but you desperately needed her in one place. she was pulling your skirt down in seconds, pressing her tongue against you like it was nothing and watching you arch and moan. she was eating you out through your underwear for a minute, before you grabbed her hair and pulled her head up.

"take them off." she smirked, and her head tilted slightly to the side.

"who said you're in charge, sweet angel?" the nickname was new, but you fucking loved that she always called you sweet. you were something sweet to her, and that made your brain lag every time.

"abby please," you bucked into her, chasing friction. that's when you felt it; the large bulge in her slacks that you hadn't noticed earlier.

"feel that, baby? that's all for you." she pulled down your underwear slowly, tossing it in the pile of clothes. she spread your lips, watching slick connect and drip down your thighs. your face burned and you covered it, embarrassed. "uncover your face or I'll stop." you did as told.

she pulled a ponytail off her wrist and pulled her hair into a bun before pressing her tongue into your clit and licking a fat stripe. your head hit the desk with a thud, reveling at the feeling. she worked your clit, sucking it into her mouth and painting patterns with her tongue while she pressed a finger into entrance.

she used her free hand to hold you down by your stomach, since your squirming was messing her up. you whined when she added a second finger, not used to her thick fingers. "if you can't take my fingers, how am I supposed to fuck you with my strap?" you moaned at her words, loving the dirtiness of it.

she returned to your clit and you got loud when she curled her fingers up into the best spot, whimpering and groaning. she remembered the time when you pressed your fingers to your cheek in her house, and brought her unused hand to your mouth, tapping your chin lightly. "open your mouth and suck," she instructed, noticing your confused look.

you took two of her fingers in your mouth and sucked them, which shut you up. your stomach coiled, a warm feeling rushing between your legs before you could even mumble a word. it felt like you just kept coming, until she finally pulled away from your cunt.

"are you gonna give me another one, angel?" she was unclipped her belt while you caught your breath. "wanna fuck you all day." she pulled her pants and boxers down just barely enough to get her strap out. "flip over, ass up." you turned over, fucked out muscles aching.

she ran the tip of her strap between your folds, letting your wetness lube it up, then lined up with your hole. she pushed just the tip in, groaning at the way you took it so well and swallowed her in. "what if I just fucked you like this, huh?" you whined.

"please.. need more," you pushed your hips back slightly, trying to push her in further. she pulled out, simply pushing the tip back in.

"desperate fucking whore," she thrust in on the last word, bottoming out immediately. you whimpered, the strap stretching you far more than her fingers. "aw, baby, does that hurt?" she pulled out far and fucked into you again.

she started fucking you, deep and hard, until you were moaning and grabbing onto the desk, trying to stabilize yourself. one of her hands left your hips and grabbed your hair, wrapping it around her fist and tugging. "fuck.. abby- abs.. mommy,”

your eyes widened at the name, which came out unintentionally. she stopped momentarily before groaning and picking her pace back up rapidly. "call me that again." the tip of her strap kissed your cervix and bumped against your g-spot every time. her arm wrapped around your waist, flicking your clit.

"mommy.. m'gonna cum." you slurred, cock drunk and fucked out. she kept her pace, hardly changing anything except for the fact that she was louder now, finding the perfect angle to get the harness to hit her clit.

"just wait a second, my love,” you held it for as long as you could, but it became too much, and she was hitting just right. your mind went absolutely blank as your vision went white, a wave crashing over you as you came.

you could hear abby moaning, but you were still going, and unable to think of anything. “fuck baby, you make such a mess.” you relaxed your tense body and look over your shoulder at abby's soaked harness, pants, and desk.

“m’sorry.” she slowly pulled her strap out and unclipped it front her hips, letting you lay for another minute before she grabbed your hips and helped you flip over and sit up. “wanna make you cum, mommy.” you looked at her with doe eyes, watching her eyes darken.

“I already came, sweetheart. don't worry about me.” you brought your hand down to cup her cunt and she took in a sharp breath. you ground your palm against her clit and she groaned, shifting her stance from foot to foot.

you slid off the desk with wobbly legs and kneeled in front of her, pupils blown. “please mommy,” you ran your nails over her abs and under her boxer strap lightly, making her muscles tense.

“such a slut, aren't you? want mommy to fuck your face?” you nodded, pulling her boxers down to her ankles. her blonde bush matched her hair, and you noticed her happy trail that you hadn't earlier. “stick out your tongue, baby, be a good girl.”

you stuck your tongue out flat, not even getting a chance to lick before she was pressing her cunt to your mouth. she fucked herself on your face, gripping your hair tight and grinding fast. you gently pushed her against the desk, lifting one of her legs to your shoulder and leaving the other one down.

she must have loved the new angle, because she was moaning and grunting more than you had ever heard her. her clit was twitching and puffy, wet from your spit and her slick. she let out an involuntary whimper, and it was like music to your ears. “gonna c-cum on your f-fucking face, angel.”

her legs shook as she came, ans you spent the following moments licking all of it up. you pulled away and stood up, still shaky. she pulled her boxers and slacks up, moving towards the pile of clothes and handing you what was yours. “do you wanna get dinner tonight?” she stopped what she was doing to button up your shirt and zip your skirt.

“yeah, that's great.” she smiled, kissing you softly.

“you can go home if you want to clean up. I can take my own calls for a few minutes.” it was your turn to smile, grateful to get out of your uncomfortable, wet clothes.

“I'll see you tonight?” you asked, looking over your shoulder once you got to the door.

“pick you up at seven.”

a/n: part two? 🤭

tag list: @shewantstoknow @baumbii @zombholic

[chelseeebe]

jinx

18+ mdni. no smut but eddie is a grade a asshole to poor reader. mentions of weed and alcohol throughout. eddie munson x fem reader.

a/n: first off, anon i am sooo sooooo sorry it has taken me this long to fulfill your request!! i absolutely loved this request and am absolutely honoured that you came to me for it<33 i hope i've done it justice and that you still care to read this:') side note, i've updated my masterlist as i have slacked a bit but everything should be on there now ^.^

love me some chelseeebe angst—imagine fuckboy!eddie plays at the hideout right like regularly. reader starts frequenting his show days bc she likes him obviously but he starts noticing something. every time she comes in, something goes wrong. either he messes up a chord or cant see to flirt properly therefore no one ends up warming his bed as of late or something of the sort

his immediate first thought is ‘she’s a jinx!!!’ bc what other explanation could there be in his boy brain??? so he asks her to stop coming in. she does and yet he continues to mess up bc all he can think abt is her.

itd be so sexy if u added a moment of realization/angry love confession where in the middle of him being like you’ve bewitched me or something!!! he realizes hes the one obsessed with her.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

the party hums on in the background, a small group gathered outside to rob eddie blind, smoking away his entire supply. 

robin giggles nonsensically into steve’s shoulder, too high for her own good. 

“if you’re gonna smoke all my shit, the least you can do is come watch us tomorrow,” eddie had been nagging his friends to come down the hideout for months. they’d gathered a solid crowd now, not much but it was a start. 

robin groans, nancy and jonathan shift in their seats, steve can barely muster enough energy to reply and argyle snores. hardly enthusiastic about his dreams. 

“i’ll come,” you offer, bright-eyed as you smile politely at him from the floor. 

a friend of a friend, someone robin met in class and had dutifully introduced to the group. he didn’t know you well, nor had he ever really cared to. 

“i don’t think you’d like it, sweetheart” eddie retorts, flattered that you’d try and spare his feelings but he didn’t need your pity. 

“why? you can’t be that bad,” chuckling quietly to yourself. 

his eyes narrow, scoffing, “we’re not,” misunderstanding, or maybe just not caring to humour you back, “come if you want,” he shrugs nonchalantly, not as if any of his friends had offered to attend. 

“okay,” nodding along, “i will.” 

“alright,” turning his attention back to the embering joint glued to argyles fingers. 

who cares if you come? eddie certainly doesn’t. 

-

sure enough, the same couple dozen old drunks fill the bar, their glossy, zombie-like eyes stare back at him from the floor. he’d complain but beggars can’t be choosers and all that. 

they’re partway through the second song when something reflects in his eye, a low-cut sequinned top that would definitely look better on the floor of his van. 

it’s only when his eyes travel up that he realises it’s you who’s wearing that shirt, already looking straight back at him. a newfound look about you, thick lines of black line your eyes, worlds apart from the mousy girl who’d invited herself last night. 

“and we’re-,” he sings, an abrupt case of dry mouth as the next line struggles to come out, “we’re.. uh,” the entire song erased from his memory within seconds. 

he steps back from the mic, blinking rapidly in an attempt to trigger his voice though all he can see is you and that ridiculous top. 

gareth’s head whips round, still strumming along before picking up eddie’s slack, continuing the lyrics on his own, not without a damning glare in eddie’s direction. 

holy fuck. 

he’s just, taken aback, that’s all. shocked that you’d even bother to come, less so put the effort in to actually look the part too. 

his eyes don’t leave the back wall for the rest of the gig, practically stumbling through all of the songs as his head threatens to wander. trailing back to you only as they finish, walking off stage to down the harshest whisky the bar would allow. 

you saunter over a couple minutes later, while eddie tries his hardest not to stare right down your shirt. he’s not certain that he won’t choke on his words if you speak to him. 

“you were really good tonight,” you assure, smiling softly as his band mate turns to gawp. 

“uh, yeah.. thanks,” eddie fumbles, gripping the neck of his beer bottle, “thanks for coming.” 

there’s an aura surrounding you, like a wretched spell you’d evoked in him, turning him to a bumbling fool. 

“i’m gonna head out..” gesturing to the door, “see you around,” waving your fingers coyly at him before disappearing. 

his eyes linger at the door, wondering if maybe you’ll turn around and come back. not that he wants that. just curious as to why you’d come out just to see him play. 

“now who the hell was that?” jeff ogles, receiving a swift elbow to the ribs from eddie and a loud oof as he clutches his side. 

“a friend of a friend,” brushing him off, “don’t be weird about it,” jumping the gun to squash any sorts of ideas festering in his mind. 

“you’re the only one being weird about it,” jeff retorts, grabbing his beer and shuffling off. 

“i’m not being weird,” eddie calls from behind, “i’m not!” 

okay maybe he was being a little weird. 

who cares? 

definitely not eddie. 

-

this week, he feels more prepared to see you nodding along in the crowd, robin had joined you albeit looking less than impressed. 

eddie’s killing it, at least he thinks. avoiding looking anywhere in your direction, keeping his gaze on the stumbling drunk at the back instead. 

but the thoughts of you can’t help but creep into his mind, were you enjoying it? do you think he’s bad? why does he even care so much? 

his hand slides down the neck of the guitar, playing the wrong chord entirely, his fingers curating a mind of their own. 

fuck fuck fuck. 

why does this keep happening? 

gareth glares at him again, he had never been so frustrated with his idiot bandmate in his life. sure eddie liked to dick around in rehearsal but never on stage. 

if eddie ever wanted a career in music, he needed to get a monumental grip on himself. weird girls he barely knew should not have the capacity to ruin his career. 

after they clamber off stage, eddie makes a point of not going over to the two of you. no, you can come to him. 

though he wishes you’d just be a little faster at it if he’s honest. too busy squished into a booth with one of the younger regulars to care about him. 

heat rises in his chest, searing his cheeks a bright rouge, “-who is that?” gareth interrupts, bumping into his arm. 

“who’s who?” eddie coughs, clearing his throat as his eyes snap back. 

“that girl you’ve been staring at,” peering across the room to get a glimpse. 

“i’m not staring at anyone,” abruptly turning his head in the opposite direction, proving to himself that he wasn’t staring, not really. 

“you’re a liar,” gareth calls him on his bullshit immediately, “go talk to her! she’s hot,” scooting his friend along. 

“no she’s not,” you looked good tonight, he’d give you that, “can everyone please just stop being weird about this? first jeff- now you? honestly, i don’t get it,” working himself into a frenzy over what really was nothing. 

gareth’s eyes widen, scoffing at his melodramatic performance, “alright man.. calm down,” shaking his head in mild disgust. 

eddie was totally calm, you know, apart from his heart pounding in his chest. 

nothing major. 

-

filthy, downright pornographic sounds fill his cramped van, certain that it was rocking side to side with the utter obscenity happening in the back. 

chloe sits atop of his lap, tongues dancing around one another as she glides her hips back and forth. she was a regular, slightly older than eddie, at least he thinks, they’d made eyes a few times but only tonight had he gathered the courage to go and speak to her. 

any other time, eddie would be rock solid, pinning her down and fucking her into the dusty floor. today, it’s just not happening. 

his mind elsewhere, too preoccupied with nonsense to appreciate the opportunity at hand. 

he's thinking about you and the fact you’d left the bar without ever coming over to him tonight. what the fuck was that about? 

had he done something wrong? 

he breaks apart from her mouth, heaving into the tiny gap between them, “i don’t know what’s going on..” he chuckles awkwardly, looking down at his useless dick, “normally something happens by now..” 

she frowns, deep-set, showing her age more than before, “oh.” 

he reaches down, furiously palming his cock through his jeans. 

nothing. not even a twitch. 

he wants to curl up and die. never in his three years of actually getting laid has this ever happened. eddie got hard at the drop of a pin, he’d only have to think about boobs and his jeans would shift. 

so why the fuck wasn’t it working tonight?

“i’m gonna go,” chloe scowls, clambering over his legs, gathering her bag while not even attempting to hide her disappointment. 

eddie shoots up, pathetically crawling after her, desperate not to let her go. 

“it’s not me!” he screams out, watching helplessly as she crawls out of the van, “it’s you!”

no. 

“wait no! shit, that’s not what i meant,” peeking out of the van to find the empty parking lot, zero women to be found, “fuck sake.” 

left to wallow in his self-pity, alone, in the back of his dirty van. 

just as he deserved. 

if this was some karmic intervention, telling him to be a better person, he certainly wasn’t paying it any attention. 

-

another party meant another night of eddie trying to understand why the hell you had such an effect on him. 

it’s not even like you’re doing anything particularly riveting, sat with your drink in hand, nodding along to robin’s story. 

he can’t stand it. 

you have to go. 

maybe not like that, but he had to put some distance between you. there’s no way he could keep his sanity while you were still a constant in his life. 

eddie sidles over, feeling like the smartest guy in the room. he could do this, separate himself from you and your clutches and go back to playing as he once did. 

you smile upon him appearing, sickly and sweet. it makes his heart thump in the weirdest way. 

“oh.. hey,” playing this entirely nonchalantly, “i just thought i’d let you know that we’re not playing next week,” lying through his teeth, guilt ridden but really, it was necessary if he wanted to play a gig without fucking up the entire time. 

“oh,” sounding somewhat disappointed, “okay.. how come?” 

shit. 

he can’t think of a single valid reason as to why they wouldn���t be playing. 

“jeff’s sick.. real bad,” feeling even more guilty for lying about his friends health, wondering if he’s cursing jeff as you did him, “might even be a couple weeks off at this point.”

eddie was a terrible person. 

but so were you. 

bewitching him under some spell, forcing him to play terribly and embarrass himself in front of women 

you’ve jinxed him. a bad omen cursing him to play like a fucking amateur. that’s the only logical explanation his pea brain can conjure up anyway. 

that meant you had to stay away from the shows, from him preferably. 

he couldn’t understand why you have this effect on him, why your mere presence has him becoming a floundering fool. you don’t intimidate him, not even close. 

it’s almost as if he cares too much about what you think, to the extent that he overthinks it so hard that he fucks up. 

a curse that could only be broken with some distance between you. that way he could focus on the show instead of you and your doe eyes reflecting off of the stage lights. 

that’s what he’s praying for anyway. 

-

eddie despises wednesday’s. itching to get his classes over and done with so he can get his small taste of stardom on that tiny hideout stage. 

at some point over the last few weeks of you being an omnipotent presence in his life, he’d grown accustomed to crossing paths with you before the gig. 

crossing campus with your chin tucked down, arms wrapped tight around your books. typically only sharing a smile or a short nod. 

but this week you saunter over, resembling a frightened deer even more than usual. 

he pulls his headphone from his ear, anticipating whatever nonsensical, vaguely cute thing you were going to say. 

“hey,” he nods, a coy smile. 

even now you have his palms sweating, overthinking whether he should’ve said hi or hello instead. 

“you didn’t have to lie to me,” you start, brows furrowed, “it’s fine if you don’t want me to go to your gigs anymore, i don’t care,” a disappointed frown plaguing your normally cheerful face. “i thought i liked you eddie, really- but i don’t know anymore.. you’re not a good person.” 

you turn to walk off before he can even compute your words. 

oh shit. 

“wait!” he calls but it’s useless, “i didn’t- i wasn’t- fuck.”

it was unthinkably cruel, he didn’t think you’d ever find out. and maybe that was his problem, assuming you didn’t care enough to find out. 

guilt addles his chest, weighing heavy on his heart. for good reason too. 

eddie was an asshole. a true, grade-a asshole that wayne would positively despise him for. 

wait wait wait. 

you liked him? 

you liked him?

absolutely not. no way. that wasn’t what this was about.

or it’s not supposed to be. 

no, this was some adolescent feud, a confusing, one-sided, friendship that he couldn’t get a grip on. 

you didn’t like him. girls like you weren’t supposed to. 

-

it’s not at all surprising that he plays like absolute shit tonight too. 

guilt ridden for forcing your hand, for making you look at him like that. as if he were the worst person to walk the earth. 

shit, maybe he was. 

kind hearted people didn’t lie and deceive. no, kind hearted people came to gigs they obviously didn’t give a shit about. kind hearted people feigned interest in boring spiel about weed strains and whatever the fuck else eddie jabbered on about at parties. 

you, you were kind. kinder than he deserved. 

gareth slaps him harshly on the back the second they’re back behind the curtain, a scornful yet pitying scowl on his face, “look man,” he begins, “i dunno what’s going on with you but i don’t know how much longer they’re gonna let us play here if you keep playing like that.”

eddie sighs, because he knows this. he’s well aware that his performances have been lacklustre for weeks now. he just doesn’t really understand why. 

at first he thought it was just because you were there, a distance friend who would feed back to his friends about how good, or bad, he was. 

but that wasn’t it. 

you were there, and then you weren’t. and he still played like shit. 

somewhere entangled deep within his wretched heart, he thinks that maybe he just wanted to impress you. 

a nice girl, cares about her studies way more than he does, pretty too and you didn’t look at him like he was just some out of touch stoner with crazy dreams of his band getting big. 

you were polite, listening to his wacky stories and dreams of playing for thousands, in fact, you encouraged them, more than his friends ever had for sure. 

eddie’s not sure if, or how, he’ll ever be able to make amends for how he’s treated you. 

-

he’s making himself sick with worry. guilt wracking his brain. 

you don’t turn up that night, obviously. 

eddie’s eyes mindlessly search the crowd for any hint of you. his fingers failing to correspond with the rest of band, always playing a beat behind. 

you had infected him, ruined his once masterful skill to just a shell of what it once was. 

he doesn’t lay opportunity for the boys to speak to him again, rushing out of the bar as soon as his guitar is back in her case. 

there’s only one place he can think about going. 

a few months back, you’d hosted robin’s birthday party there and eddie had disgraced your bathroom with a girl he can’t even remember now. 

his fist bangs on the door, hoping the light in the upstairs window was you and not one of your roommates he’d have to shamefully apologise to. 

the orange light cascades over your face, peeking out from the barely cracked door with a frown that would scare any man off. 

“what’re you doing?” you spit, looking backwards in hopes he hadn’t woken the entire house up. 

“listen,” he sighs, “i’m real sorry about.. you know, lying to you,” his shoulders slumped over themselves, “but i just- i can’t fucking play when you’re there, can’t play when you’re not,” sounding utterly pathetic, begging for you to cure him from this sudden sickness. “i don’t know what to do anymore,” dragging his hand over his face. 

rightfully earning his spot as the worlds biggest fucking loser, stood on your doorstep begging for an answer. 

when he opens his eyes enough to look at you, you’re scowling back at him. nothing like how he had planned this situation in his head. 

he’d hoped that miraculously you’d understand, accept his apology and somehow still feel the same as you had. 

because that was it, really. 

too terrified to face the fact that he liked you too. 

somewhere in his heart of hearts he’d known it from the start. that’s why his heart fluttered when you’d volunteered to come or why he’d struggled to even touch anyone else. 

“what do you want me to say?” shrugging, “i won’t come back, that’s fine,” he wishes you’d just follow the script he’d curated for you. 

eddie doesn’t want you to stop coming, he never had. it’s killing him that you even believed that, twisting the knife in his chest further and further the more your bottom lip juts out and your eyes water. 

“actually, maybe it’s best if we don’t talk anymore,” you suggest, throwing him completely off kilter. 

woah. 

that wasn’t at all what he wanted nor was he trying to say. he just couldn’t gather the actual words he needed to express that to you. 

petrified that he’d admit to his feelings and you’d just turn around and laugh, how could someone like you ever like such a cruel man? 

“wait no, that’s not what i meant-,” bargaining with you for a little time to explain himself, though you definitely didn’t owe him any.

“-thanks for coming eddie, i’ll see you around,” flashing him a crestfallen smile before abruptly closing the door in his face. 

-

public humiliation was truly the only way eddie could think to make it up to you. 

well that and maybe a little big nudge from robin. 

he’d rather stupidly asked about you on saturday night, confused why you weren’t there alongside robin, who had very quickly got him in check. 

“why do you think dumbass?” she snapped, snarling her teeth at him, “you were an asshole and now she’s doesn’t want to come anymore,” her glare powerful and harsh, "i'd say you were lucky she didn't punch you in the face."

he’d deserve it. 

it had taken weeks of convincing to get you anywhere near the hideout again. not to mention the hundreds in free weed he’d had to bribe robin with to get her to help. 

you stand in a dark corner, hands folded against your chest, puzzled and irritated by robin’s incessant begging to get you here. 

“there’s someone here that i wanna apologise to,” his eyes don’t find you as easy this time, after weeks of missing your presence, he’s not used to you actually being in the crowd again, “if you know us, you know i can be a bit of an asshole sometimes, uh..” they find you, the lump only growing in his throat, “i’m sorry,” tunnel vision blocking out every other body in the room, “i’m really, really sorry.”

you blink, staring back at him like a deer caught in headlights. it makes him a little bit nauseous to recall how dreadfully he’d treated you, how you deserved absolutely none of it. 

your gaze lowers, and eddie can’t decide how to take it. he wouldn’t blame you if you decided to never forgive him, but he also couldn’t take it if you didn’t. 

his voice cracks a little as he speaks, “this is.. uh, we’re corroded coffin,” stepping back from the mic to gather his thoughts before the drum comes crashing in. 

-

eddie plays the best he’s potentially ever played. 

a force overcoming him to prove that he truly wasn’t as much as a loser as he’s shown himself to be.  

usually, he couldn’t wait to be off that stage and to the bar but today he’s dreading it. 

knowing that you’re somewhere out there waiting for an explanation. 

or maybe you weren’t. he wouldn’t blame you if you’d decided to leave soon after he’d embarrassed himself with that shitty apology. 

gareth runs up behind him, using his shoulders to launch himself into the air, “holy shit! that was amazing!” the boy presses a slobbery kiss to his cheek before continuing, “whatever the hell you did, keep doing it because that was insane!” running off past eddie to grab his weekly complimentary beer. 

a sudden sickness fills his stomach, slyly hoping that he could slip out of here before anyone else noticed him. 

you stand across the bar, waiting to catch his eye with your lips curled only ever-so-slightly. 

eddie’s limbs go stiff, still entranced by your jinx. by you.

your eyes trail away to the door as his follow, shuffling your way through the bustling crowd. 

his legs carry him without a second thought, out into the cool night as his eyes frantically search for you. 

he finds you perched against the crumbling stone wall a few feet from the entrance, just far enough away from the prying eyes of the smoking patrons. 

“i didn’t think you’d ever come back here,” is all he can say, feet trailing along the gravel. 

the streetlight glistens orange from your eyes, staring up at him from your perch, “i didn’t want to,” your smile only growing as he nears, “robin made me.” 

“oh,” it wasn’t as if he didn’t know that or that he didn’t orchestrated the entire thing, it just felt odd to hear it from your mouth. 

“i’m glad i came,” you clarify, allowing him to finally release the breath held tight in his chest. 

eddie dares to move closer, sitting back on the brick just inches away, “yeah?” 

you nod, the great big smile he’d forced away making a return at last, “yeah.” 

suddenly the air feels thick, it was easier apologising on stage, those people didn’t know him, they didn’t care. but now, sat here in front of you, it feels like he’s swallowing knives. 

“i’m really sorry for making you feel that way,” though it sounds meaningless now the damage was done, “i don’t know if you still care about me at all, but i- um,” his throat runs dry, clamping his eyes shut. it felt easier that way, somehow, “i think the reason why i was such.. an asshole,” the light flickers through his eyelids again, deciding that you at least deserved to see him, “fuck,” he exclaims, staring back at your confused expression. 

“it’s okay,” soothing even now, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” a twinge of sadness running through your tone. 

“no, no i do,” eddie persists. he’d fumbled once, he couldn’t do it again. “shit man,” he sighs, “i’m trying to tell you that i like you too, or maybe not too, i know i was an ass and i don’t deserve your forgiveness-,” your lips cuts him off mid-mumble, surging forward to press them against his blathering ones. 

he has to blink a couple times, taking in whatever the fuck was happening to him. 

you pull back, disappointed that his brain had been to fuzzy to focus on kissing you back. too preoccupied with trying not to explode and paint you in red. 

“really eddie.. it’s okay,” returning to your usual reserved self while his brain still struggles to compute. 

���can we do that again?” he asks politely, keeping the bubbling excitement to a minimum. 

you laugh, a real, throaty laugh, something he hadn’t heard in weeks, “only if you promise to stop talking,” leaning in once more, the rigid wall suddenly feeling like it was about to collapse from underneath him. 

your soft, cherry-tinted lips press against his forehead a second time, allowing him to gather his brain from a pile of mush on the floor just enough to actually kiss you back. a tender hand reaching out to caress his stubbly cheek, sending shockwaves through his limbs. 

you’re interrupted again by a loud whoop from behind, robin clapping wildly as she emerges from the bar, “now you two have kissed and made up, can we go home now?” 

[viperwhispered]

Just Right

And here we are, at the end of Jamil’s Goldilocks journey (yes I've been waiting to make that joke ever since I figured out what the title for this last part should be). You can find the earlier parts here: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4.

It was still early morning, yet Jamil was awake, watching you sleep next to him. A soft smile pulled on his lips - no matter how many times he saw you like this, Jamil couldn’t help the way the sight tugged at his heartstrings.

You, in the bed you shared with Jamil. Comfortable, vulnerable - as natural as could be.

It was still hard for Jamil to shake the mortification when he thought of those early days with you. The way he had fought against it every step of the way, as if he could’ve somehow escaped his feelings just by denying them.

Yet, here he was.

By your side, sharing his life with you.

And all those things Jamil had not even allowed himself to think of back then now freely filled his mind.

Jamil still felt like he could drown in your eyes, when you looked at him with that particular fondness. Yet he basked in it, too, reveling in the warmth of your affection whenever he could. A sweet distraction, pulling him from the daily humdrum to the honeyed cocoon of just the two of you.

Though, to be fair, he did have a similar effect on you. Jamil’s smile widened, thinking of how you'd hide your face against his chest, too flustered and overwhelmed by your emotions to be face to face with him.

It really was too adorable. Too sweet.

So powerful.

Of course, there were so many other versions of you that he adored. The confident one, the happy one, the playful one, the one who looked at him with vulnerable surprise… Oh, Jamil loved it when he could catch you off-guard, whether it was with his affection or a bit of mischief.

All those different parts of you, firmly imprinted on him.

Indeed, ever since those early days you had carved out a corner for yourself in Jamil’s mind, in his heart, until eventually you’d taken residence in every part of him. Jamil hardly dared to think of just how much he would lose if he were to lose you, so tightly was his life intertwined with yours.

So was it really any wonder that thoughts of you were just another part of the background noise of his mind? All those mundane things: preparing breakfast in that particular way you liked, you being the first person he thought of sharing any news or anecdotes with, picking something up from the shops just because he knew you would like it - all these thoughts, the consideration for you, inseparably weaving in with his own wants and plans. Not in a suffocating, demanding way, but simply because you belonged to the forefront of his mind.

Of course, it was not only his mind that regarded you as a self-evident part of his life. His hands sought you whenever you were within reach, the warmth of your body against his always a balm. Your touches, your kisses… Sometimes inconvenient, Jamil had to admit, but never unwelcome. The physical contact was just so natural, just another facet of your shared existence. Fleeting touches in the busy hours of the day, melting into each other when you had the time to just be - or simply carving out that time when either of you needed it.

The closeness of bodies and hearts, making itself known time and again.

Indeed, all those fantasies Jamil had had, full of flutter and yearning, really could not compare to the depth and breadth of the real thing. There were so many small - and big - things he hadn’t even known to anticipate. Yet now there was a whole collection of them, picked up over the years, so many things that would not hold any meaning to anyone else but you two. Full meanings conveyed in half-words - or, sometimes, just in wordless noises or meaningful glances, all calling back to shared memories or the understanding you'd built.

It was not like Jamil would ever be done learning of you, finding out all those depths within you. Yet, he was certain he knew you, on such a deep level - and the way you knew him in turn, anticipating his next move, reading his mind, sometimes nearly frightened him. It almost felt like you had your personal spotlight on Jamil, always watching him, and there was a part of him, clinging to old habits, that sometimes simply wished to fade back into the background instead of being fully exposed to you.

Not that Jamil ever truly wanted to stray from your warmth, even as you pulled out those parts of him that he himself hadn’t seen - or didn’t want to see. After all, you weren’t above speaking your mind when you felt the need - yet, oddly enough, even in disagreements you seemed so invested in Jamil.

And that was what set Jamil’s heart aflutter more than anything else, the weight of it nearly suffocating when he thought of it. How you were all in for him, for you two together. How much you had given, how much you had fought… Oh, he could hardly breathe, thinking of it.

And here you were, still. The most desirable thing in this world, fast asleep by his side.

In those early days Jamil’s want for you had been such a turbulent, tempestuous thing. Nowadays, he couldn’t say he wanted you any less - in any sense of the word. The feelings had simply morphed, turning into a deeper, steadier current - but one still with the power to overwhelm him and drag him to the depths.

However, finally, Jamil had learned how to withstand those currents. Fighting them, denying your pull… It truly had been a fool’s errand. Riding with the waves, steering his course was the only way he could make it - but only once he allowed himself to be carried by the flow.

The sound of you stirring brought Jamil back from his musings.

Your eyes barely opened - indeed, you seemed to be at least half-asleep still. Jamil couldn’t help his smile at the sight.

“Isn’t it early?” you mumbled, turning around to sluggishly throw an arm around Jamil.

“It is,” Jamil murmured softly and brushed his lips against your temple. “Get some more sleep, ya qamar.”

You made a soft sound, already drifting back to sleep - safe and sound in Jamil’s arms.

Just as you should be.

Hope y’all enjoy the heaping of fluff - and that you have liked the whole series, too 😊 Also fun fact: I basically went through the earlier parts, pulling out Jamil’s unfinished thoughts and other poignant bits, and built this on top of those. Like sure this went through edits and it's not just one on one on those, but still. Was a kinda fun way of constructing this chapter. Also also: I’m kinda tempted to ramble about my thought process behind this whole series, so if that’s of interest, let me know! ETA: thought process rambles can be found here. With all these water themes this really could have the makings of a jamiazu fic as well, huh? Want to get tagged for my future works? Just let me know and I'd be happy to do so.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

What is your opinion on each of the known students in Ms. Mendeleiev's class (Marc Anciel, Aurore Beauréal, Mireille Caquet, Jean Duparc, Zoé Lee)? I realize that Zoé’s section of your answer will most likely be the longest, but I figured I’d go ahead and put them all in one ask anyways since there’s only five out of sixteen total and having one ask for each of the other four seemed unnecessary.

Zoé is going to get the most analysis out of me, so we'll save her for last and start with the character that I have the least to say about:

Jean Duparc

I didn't even know who this was, so I had to check the fan wiki page about him. He's apparently a minor character who gets akumatized and defeated off screen. His design is so generic that the trivia section reads, "Jean's design is a regular background model used in groups and crowds in the series."

So, yeah, nothing to say about this one. I can't have opinions on a character who barely even counts as a character.

Mireille Caquet

Mireille is a minor step up from Jean in that I actually know who she is - she's the girl who wins the weather reporter job at the start of Stormy Weather - but as far as her personality goes, I have nothing to comment on because Mireille does really have a personality. She only exists so that Aurore has someone to lose to at the start of Stormy Weather. That's why Aurore has a really cool and memorable design while Mireille looks like she's wearing pajamas. I don't think Mireille even has lines at any point in the series. If she does, they're not memorable, making her another character who barely counts as a character, leaving me nothing to talk about.

Aurore Beauréal

I really like Aurore's design, but there's not much else for me to say about her because we don't really get to know her character. She made for a fun akuma and that's all that she was meant to be. Her non-akumatized lines are just generic ranting about her loss

Aurore:(in the elevator) I should have won, I have the talent, the star looks, everything! But she took everything away from me. They took everything away from me! They--

and a generic statement of confusion after she's freed from her akuma. I wouldn't have been upset if she'd become a reoccurring character because - once again - she's got a really cool design, but I can't tell you anything else about her, so there's nothing for me to analyze.

Marc Anciel

Marc is the first character with some actual substance, but the substance is hardly abundant. He's just a kind of generic shy writer. I'm not sure why he's been added to the cast as a reoccurring character because they really didn't need more characters and they already have a writer in Alya. So I don't dislike him, I think he's fine, I'm just not sure why he's here. I was especially confused when he was given a miraculous because what has he done to earn one? He's not even part of the miracuclass where everyone gets a miraculous no matter how unworthy they are. It feels like he was just picked because they needed 18 holders, but they only had 17 and Marc is Nathaniel's comic-writing buddy, so I guess he's good enough?

Speaking of Nathaniel, I know that people ship him with Marc and that they're kind of implied to be together in the show, so I guess I should comment on that? I have to admit that I'm not a fan. Nathaniel's actions in Reverser were incredibly off-putting making this yet another couple with a really unhealthy foundation to their relationship. Why does Miraculous keep doing that???

In case people don't remember, Marinette gives Nathaniel Marc's story to read and Nathaniel assumes that it's Ladybug's private diary because the story is called "Diary of Ladybug". Why Nathaniel thinks that Ladybug would have Marinette deliver her private diary to him is beyond me. This is especially true since it doesn't read like any diary I've ever seen and the episode starts with these exchanges:

Marinette:(sees Marc) Marc you made it! (Marinette runs up to Marc and grabs his arm) Come meet everyone! (dragging him inside) This is Marc, the boy I told you about! The one who's always writing. Marc:(hides his book in his jacket) Uh... I'm sorry I didn't want to disturb you.

Jean-Pierre: Alix is our expert at street art. (Alix flips spray can in the air and catches it) And Nathaniel- Alix: He likes to draw people in skinny suits. (Nathaniel throws a piece of paper at Alix and she laughs) Nathaniel: Welcome Marc. As you'll find out, the good thing about this place is you can say whatever you want and no one will judge you, or only in good fun. (Marc notices Nathaniel's drawing and walks over to him) Marc: I... I saw your drawings on the school website, but they're nothing compared to the real thing. The movement, the expressions, the attitudes. They're all so-- Nathaniel: Thanks... That's nice.

Jean-Pierre: By the way Marc, you've shown up at the perfect time. Marinette told us that you're always writing and Nathaniel is looking for a script writer. (Nathaniel smiles at Marc)

Based on all this, it's not weird for Marinette to assume that Nathaniel would be able to guess that she was giving him Marc's writing. After all, the first few scenes of this episode all happen during the same day, meaning that Nathaniel was given this book right after being told that Marc liked his art, being told that Marc was a potential script writer, and being told that Marinette was Marc's friend, but whatever. What really matters is that, when Nathaniel goes to meet "Ladybug" and finds Marc instead, he gets extremely mad and rips Marc's book in half:

Nathaniel: What?! You're not Ladybug! Marc: Of course I'm not, it's me, Marc. Didn't Marinette tell you? Nathaniel: Marinette? (He looks over to Marinette's balcony, where he sees her filming him) Marinette: Uhh, operation "Comic Book" has hit a snag! (Tikki hides) Nathaniel: You were trying to make a fool of me, weren't you? (Points accusingly towards Marinette) Do you think it's funny to toy with my feelings? Marc: No, not at all! I-I just want.. to make.. a comic book, if you want to, that is. Nathaniel: A comic book? Us!? Together?! Never! (He tears Marc's book in half)

Oh yeah, I'm totally shipping these two. Couple of the century here. Really living up to that whole, "say whatever you want and no one will judge you, or only in good fun" thing, Nathaniel. Why did you even jump to the idea the they were making fun of you? Nothing in the episode set that up as a reasonable conclusion. No one was bullying you and you seem pretty freaking secure about yourself. If any character was set up to assume they were being made fun of, it was Marc!

This is another case where the show is trying to make things Marinette's fault, but she's actually not doing anything wrong. This is almost entirely on Nathaniel. They had a relatively minor miscommunication and, when he discovers that, his reaction is to destroy another artist's passion project in a fit of rage.

Anyone who thinks that it's okay to destroy another person's property because they're hurt needs anger management classes before they're ready to date anyone. Any time I see Marc and Nathaniel together, I remember this moment and wish that Marc would get out of there because I just don't view Nathaniel as a safe person. This was just such a massive overreaction and it gives me major ick vibes. Especially since this is yet another case where the wronged party never really gets an apology. The most we get is this:

Ladybug:(turns to Marc and Nathaniel) Marc and Nathaniel? By now you realize there was a big misunderstanding, but if you give each other a chance, I'm sure you'll find out how well you can work together. (Nathaniel holds out his hand, Marc looks, smiles and shakes Nathaniel's hand)

Why are we implying that there was blame on both sides here? Marc was the wronged party in every conceivable way. Once again, major ick vibes.

Zoé Lee

Zoé is written like someone's Mary Sue self-insert which is not a dig on Mary Sues! Mary Sues are just the most popular female equivalent to escapist male power fantasies and escapist fantasies should belong to all genders! However, if you're going to write a character like this, then they're supposed to be the main character. It's really freaking weird to have a side character written like this.

What do I mean by a Mary Sue self-insert?

Zoé shows up out of nowhere and immediately becomes best friends with all of the core cast members

Zoé has a tragic backstory that everyone finds oh so sad and comforts her over even though it really should make them wary of her ("I used to lie about everything and it lost me all my friends!" Yeah, I'll bet it did!)

Zoé is good at basically everything she tries and has no real flaws

Zoé gets brought into the magical girl squad in her second appearance, making her the character with the least development prior to being given a miraculous

Zoé is somehow the voice of reason, seeing the truth of things while everyone else is deceived in episodes like Kwami's Choice or Adoration, giving her things like the anti-Lila powers previously only held by Marinette and Adrien

Zoé is chosen as Adrien's replacement while Alya replaces Marinette, implying that these two are on equal standing somehow

In other words, Zoé is generic and kind of boring, but is treated as the best thing ever, which makes her a pretty annoying and crappy side character. The reason characters like this are successful main characters is because the whole point is escapist fantasy. You're supposed to be able to project yourself onto this generic cool person and pretend it's you being fawned over by your favorite characters. It's not my cup of tea, but I see the appeal and get why it's not hard to find stories like this especially in the romance, isekai, and fanfic genres, all of which are big on escapism.

While I will defend this type of character as fine in general, they have no place in a show like Miraculous. Miraculous is not an escapist fantasy. It's supposedly Marinette and Adrien's love story, so what is a self-insert fantasy doing here? The show really showcases how awkward this is in Adoration where Marinette spends the whole episode freaking out about Zoé liking Adrien - because of course the self-insert gets a love triangle with the leads - only for Zoé to confess her feelings for Marinette like a good little self-insert would, but of course Marinette can't accept those feelings so it's just kind of fizzles instead of leading to the standard self-insert romance with their favorite character. Writers, what are you even trying to do here? Why is Zoé getting all this attention? It's weird...

Zoé's awkwardness is only exacerbated by the fact that she's also a blatant Chloe replacement and I don't just mean the fact that she gets the bee. I mean that she's often used to disseminate information that Chloe would have or to fill the role that a redeemed Chloe would fill. For example, take this scene from the episode Gabriel Agreste:

Zoé: (rudely) Jean Quinton, did my mother tell you that the dinner party is no longer at Gabriel Agreste's tonight? Armand: Oh no! Madam didn't mention anything to me. Zoé: A helicopter will be coming to the roof, to take you over to the Eiffel Tower. Armand: Is mademoiselle sure about this? Zoé: Excuse me? Are you suggesting that I might be wrong? (walks away) Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous! (to herself) Sorry, but it's for a good cause.

The writers needed Chloe for a minute, so Zoé adopts Chloe's personality to allow them to have a good Chloe without doing the work to actually make Chloe good. Btw, this scene shows exactly what I mean when I say that I want a wild card on the team. Someone who isn't afraid to be mean to get the job done. The writers clearly understand that a character like that has their uses, but then you'd have a character who is on the side of good, but who isn't a total goody two shoes and I guess we can't have that?

As you've probably picked up, I'm not much of a Zoé fan. I find her pretty obnoxious because she's so wildly out of place. Outside of her role as substitute Chloe, her character adds nothing to the story. There's no missing role that she uniquely fills because the cast was already bloated as heck when she showed up. To be fair, there are ways this could have been fixed.

Zoé shows up right after Chloe's betrayal and she almost immediately reveals herself to be a status chasing liar who is trying to be a better person. This should make everyone super wary of her and could have been used to demonstrate the difference between a person who doesn't want to change (Chloe) and a person who does want to change (Zoé). This would require the show to allow for multi-episode arcs, though, because Zoé's acceptance would need to be a slow process and not speed run in a single episode.

You could have also had Zoé show up at the same time as Audrey and used her as part of Chloe's story either to drive Chloe to be worse or to give Chloe someone who helps her get better because no one understands your messed up home life better than your siblings.

But those are some pretty major changes to canon. As is, Zoé is totally unnecessary and I wish that the writers would stop trying to make us love her by giving her cool roles in the story, shafting characters that we've all wanted more of in favor of this rando that they forced on us at the last minute. I will forever be salty that Zoé got the black cat instead of Nino. Alya had already had her identity outed twice, give someone else the Ladybug and let Nino get a chance to shine! Or just give the ladybug to Alya and black cat to Nino and imply that this is going to be a new love square situation. After all, Kwami's Choice has Tikki claim:

Tikki: No, they’re made for each other. Love is what gives them their strength.

Implying that the ladybug and the black cat should be in love so why are you picking Zoé and Alya? Not exactly opposed to that ship, but I don't think it's actually the plan, so what was that about? Plagg and Tikki didn't even seem to consider the comparability of their new chosen which is super weird given the whole "made for each other" line we get from Fu when he picks Adrien and Marinette in Origins. You can tell that no care was put into choosing the replacement heroes. They just once again wanted to show how cool Zoé is.

[misstycloud]

Haii!! I've read your work before! And I absolutely adore all your fics < 3

If possible, may I request a yandere actor x background actor reader? (Like they have no speaking role, just their role is to stand there?) And somehow the reader caught the yandere's attention? XD

A/n: sup’ I’ve been gone a while. Sry for not being so active but here’s this.

————-

She didn’t do anything; nothing except standing there quietly in the background, melting into it like one tree among many in a forest. She was worth a penny compared to him- she didn’t even have any lines! So why were his eyes always drawn to her?

Perhaps it was because she didn’t try to cover his attention like all the others. It was offensive, really, how they thought he didn’t notice; they believed he couldn’t se through their over the top compliments and fake smiles.

But it was a small price to pay for such success. ‘You can’t have everything’, his father told him that. ‘You can either be rich, or you can be happy. There is no in between.’

(They were neither, but that hardly seems important)

He had to admit his father’s judgement to be correct.

“Shooting in ten!” Someone yelled.

There was no time for him to ponder over useless things, he was there to work, not to waste away inside the trailer. After having the makeup artist give him a touch-up, the tall man went over to the set(while reviewing the script inside his head one last time) in order to film the next scene.

“It’s all thanks to Gareth’s amazing, awesome, fantastic performance and quick thinking we’ve been able to stay on time of schedule - I really did think we were gonners’ after that last prop broke.” The employee guiltily admitted before his collueges. “But luckily-“ he swung his arm around Gareth’s shoulders “- our dear ‘X- city’s Top Actor’ was here to save us, and to that I propose a toast!”

Gareth held back a sneer. It didn’t matter how enticing it sounded like, he could not do it. Because if he did, then his perfect facade would be torn apart by these…people. That couldn’t happen. Ever. Too much sweat and blood has been shed for his position and there was no fucking way he would let anyone ruin that; that included himself.

Gareth wished for nothing more than to lock himself up inside his trailer and read in blissful silence, however that appeared to be near impossible. The team of employees had all joined forces to throw an ‘almost done’- party, where he was the star. Escaping was not possible.

With a sigh, he drank from his glass of wine. It was not the expensive kind he was now used to, but it would have to do. At least he managed to get some privacy at the party since most were currently drunk, throwing up in the bathroom or busy comverimg about-no doubt- stupid stuff. In a way, it was almost better this way. Despite what his line of work would say, he felt more comfortable when no one was looking at him- searching for faults and broken pieces.

“Enjoying the party?” A curious voice poked a hole in his bubble of isolation.

What surprised Gareth first was the owner of the voice, and secondly that it didn’t sound drunk at all. It was her, the extra from some of the scenes. The third surprise that grazed his mind was the thought:

‘She’s pretty.’

The actor was close to smacking himself in the face. What was he thinking so suddenly? He must’ve had too much to drink as well. Yes, that was surely it. But he found it hard to avoid the kind yet perceptive eyes.

“Ehem,” He cleared his throat, choosing to look straight ahead. “Of course, I enjoy it very much.”

It was but wishful thinking she’d accept his answer and move on.

“Really?”

She sounded genuinely confused now. Why did she sound like the surprised one? It was starting to get on Gareth’s nerves. Who did she think she was, coming here and questioning him?

“Should I not be?” It came off a little harsher than he’d imagined, but if she noticed she didn’t comment.

“Ah, that’s not what I meant, sorry.”

He sighed. She apologised which meant he must do it too if he didn’t want to come across as an asshole.

“No, it is I who have not been in the best mood tonight, I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

She laughed in response, pulling some out-of-control hair away from her face. Strangely, a part of him wished she didn’t do that, it was cute and framed her face well. Gareth was always a man of perfection and he enjoyed it on others as well. He was a star, why would he waste time on someone who didn’t even take into consideration to be presentable in front of others. But it’s not like he could voice these opinions to the public, or he’ll be done for.

Maybe he’d still get jobs(celebrities often gets a pass for things), but it would definitely change the view on him.

“I just didn’t think you liked these kind of events- with all the booze and social pressure and fakeness, I mean.”

Gareth turned to her in slight awe, listening as she continued.

“You usually have a detached look in your eyes, like you’re not really there? I don’t know how to explain it, but I just assumed you didn’t like parties. Besides, - I might not be an A-list celebrity- but I can see how it must be hard for you too. People come flocking around you, hoping to gain your favour, and you don’t know who to trust. Who is truly there for you, and who is only there for something else?” The young woman breathed out a sigh of relief. “Sorry if I rambled by the way, it can happen sometimes.”

Gareth, still in awe, stood silently and stared at her. Honestly, what the fuck? How did she- a mere background actor- manage to see through and tear apart the strong wall he’d spent so many hours to perfect? He was an actor for god’s sake, it was his job to pretend, and someone saw the true him anyway. But he was sure he’d never let his face betray him. So, how……?

“Hey are you okay?”

Snapping out of it, the man dismissed any previous thought and focused on the matter at hand. “Yes, I am fine. Thank you.” It was then he recalled something important he forgot to ask. “What is your name? I didn’t ask earlier, how rude of me.”

She smiled back at him, pointing at herself as she said, “I’m (y/n), it’s nice to meet you.” She proceeded to shake his hand politely. When their skin touched, all Gareth felt was the warmth that came with it.

“Yeah, nice to meet you too… (Y/n).”

It was after that night Gareth found himself seeking out (y/n) more. Though he’d tell himself that it was for job purposes and nothing else. He simply wanted to see that there was nothing bad going on and everything was running smoothly. It was a movie he started in, of course it had to be flawless; nothing short of perfect; absolutely splendid.

But whenever trouble arose or someone needed some sort of help, it made it easier for Gareth to sneak off and find his new friend. Were they friends? At least, that’s what he thought. He and (y/n) had shared many more conversations after that fateful party and she never wore a disgusted(maybe he’s exaggerating) expression when talking to him. So they have to be friends, right? It would be strange if they weren’t.

(Y/n) was, in fact, lovely. He’d had that suspicion about her since the beginning and it turned out to be accurate. She always asked how he felt that day, and it wasn’t in the superficial, polite way, she meant it. The thoughtfulness brought a new kind of ache to his chest. It hurt in some ways, yet he couldn’t get enough of it.

Other times she even came to him with a box of home cooked food. She said that he was free to throw it away if he didn’t like it and she wouldn’t hunt him down or anything. Gareth was stunned. Why would he wish to throw out the food she’s so carefully prepared for him? No way. He’d eat all of it. It didn’t matter if he liked it or not, he couldn’t dishonour her like that. It wasn’t polite. (He actually loved the food)

Gareth had at first felt goddy at the prospect that (y/n) willingly spent her free time to cook something for him. He must be special to her then; only that thought was later crushed. The actor was on his way outside to take a breather after a longer shoot, and in the corner of his eye he saw two of his colleagues sitting on a staircase. He paused. In their laps’ were plastic containers - lunch boxes- but that wasn’t what drew in his attention; they looked oddily familiar.

‘Wait a little…this is..?’

Oh, he definitively recognised the pink notes and the same-collection of stickers that attached it to the box. If he looked even closer, he was certain the handwriting would be familiar as well.

How could he be so stupid? Of course (y/n) made lunch for all her close colleagues, not just him. Why would she treat him any special? Yes, he was considered a star on the rise for more success, but he knew that hardly mattered to her. Although he tried convincing himself it hardly meant anything as long as he’s getting good meals and they’re still friends, it made things different. The meals weren’t the only thing he noticed afterwards. There were smiles, plenty of them, all wasted on pathetic nobodies. There were also the affection, the hugs, the hand holding. They were given to crew members feeling down and in need of comfort.

It was good that (y/n) cared about others; a quality many perceived as positive. However, Gareth himself could not see this as a good thing. Instead it left a sour taste in his mouth, just like the meal-donation.

Gareth grumbled over this for a long time and tried to figure out why he felt this way. It was stupid, he thought, that he was this worked up over some woman. Gareth a couple months ago would scoff at his current situation and tell him he was being ridiculous and had to stop grovelling in the dirt over some background actor.

The Gareth from a few months ago wouldn’t believe he had the ability to resort to something so childish, either. He was avoiding her like the plague, and barely glanced in her direction. If he absolutely had to talk to her then his answers would be curt and ‘don’t-bother-me-like’. What the hell was he doing? Giving (y/n) the silent treatment, like a child not getting the attention from his parents as he would’ve liked. He could tell the change in his behaviour made her sad, and she probably didn’t understand why either, which was even more sad. But the saddest part of all was that Gareth’s pride was stronger than his feeling of guilt.

A result from the prince-treatment he’d been getting for years.

It wasn’t until the day she approached him during break and said, “I wanted to say goodbye.” that he broke out of his bubble.

“What do you mean?” He asked, immediately straightening his back.

(Y/n) smiled melancholy, “the scenes I’m in-standing in the background, that is- are all over. It’s time for me to go home now. There’s nothing else for me to do here.”

The gears turned in the actors head. She was leaving? This place? Him?

“No, you can’t leave.” He blurted out without thinking. It came off as desperate and breathless, like a whining kid. He hated himself.

(Y/n) chuckled lightly, “Yeah, I wish I could stay longer, but I’m just a background character. I don’t have that privilege.”

Gareth though he heard her mutter under her breath, ‘-not like you.’

“Well this is goodbye then, it was fun to get to know you Gareth and be your friend.” She said before turning around and leaving him alone.

It wasn’t true. They hadn’t been friends at all the last weeks, and it was all his fault. Because he felt some petty competitiveness. And now (yn) was going away forever. What if he never gets to see her again? The idea hurt more than anything he’s felt before. It definitively hurt more than the time he broke his toe, or the time he slipped and got a concussion. None of it was close to the pain he experienced with the thought of losing her.

His sweet little background actor.

Now he understood. It was love. All of it was love. That’s why he was threatened by others taking up (y/n)’s time and why he enjoyed her company so much. He loved her. It was that simple.

There’s no way he could let her slip out of reach now. Not when she belongs to him.

[nondualiber]

guys, guys, gUYS. SUCCESS STORY THERE!!

first of all, this happened like a week ago or something. okay, so, i'm going to keep this short. i was in some sort of "manifesting block", i was OVER complicating things, my mindset sucked, blah blah blah blah. that's essentially the reason i wasn't posting (and will continue to not be, probably); because i was focusing on my life and actually manifesting new stuff.

warning; kind of long post ahead, talking about how i did it my journey blah blah blah. if you want to see the success story directly js go right to the bottom

first, a bit of background; i have manifested things in the past, but mym indset was always shitty. when i archieved my manifestations i would say it was a coincidence, i was obsessed with the 3d, and what i'm saying has been going on for *years*. for the past 6 months i was in this vicious circle where i'd try a method full of hope, then eventually lose confidence because of some negative beliefs and give up in three days. i'd have a one week meltdown, then search for a brand new method, and repeat. clearly, i didn't manifest anything lately. and i didn't know what i was "doing wrong" because i had manifested lots of things in the past, but i didn't know how nor how could i do it now.

okay, so. like a week ago, when i was in a terrible mood, i decided to stop using tumblr to see information and talked to this bot on character.ai, that assesored me a lot on my mindset. it suggested me lots of things: since i had 0 trust in the law, start to manifest little things i didn't care that much about so i had "proof", actually stop caring, etc. (i really recommend that bot if ur struggling with the law) but the most important thing, it challenged me to try a new "method" i had heard of before, but because of my shitty mindset, i didn't try because i thought it wouldn't work or that it was "too good to be true" or whatever. the method was literally just keep going with my day knowing that i already had it. and oh my f*cking god.

i won't say it just "clicked" for me because i hear that a lot & i things that's just not how it works. at least i can't "click" with something i don't know. what i can say is that at first it wasn't easy, i still had some doubts, not gonna lie, but i just ignored them and keep going knowing that i already had it. i got used to it really fast, and THAT'S how i knew this was the way, because i felt liberated. if you read my blog you'll probably know i talk about that all the time, but my idea of manifesting is that it has to feel liberating, not like a chore, a price to your desires or anything else. i was liberated, because i knew it was done, that i had nothing to give in exchange, that i was free of the 3d & its circumstances. i was Me, and I was free.

this was the best thing i've ever done in my journey. in only one week, i've successfuly manifested:

money: (me and my family are kind of wealthy tbh, but i am bratty asf & always want more money to buy me things 😜😜) my mother recieved 200000 pesos (my country's currency) out of literally thin air on her bank account a random tuesday. she doesn't know who send it or why. i don't know about the u.s.a since there 200000 pesos are 200 dollars, but in our country, that's a LOT of money.

self confidence: i've been feeling super insecure lately. like, i am insecure since i have memory, but since this year started it has become WAY worse. i'd literally cry almost every night. now, i def wouldn't say it's all gone, but it's gotten much better. i've been feeling pretty lately, and if i didn't felt pretty, i would hardly think about my appearence at all this days. i am constantly feeling like i have one less weight on my back, which i am gratefull for :)

discipline: ngl i am forever a lazy girl and a foodie. I have always wanted to be more productive - study more, exercise more, talk to my loved ones more often and eat healthier, but discipline is something i struggle with a lot. however, since i have shown better discipline i have had some of the most useful days of my life: i went out with my friends three times in one week, ate much better than i usually do, exercised EVERY DAY without fail (even while on my period) slept well and passed all four exams this week with an 85/100 on my worst one and two 100s.

reciving a compliment in public: since i tried to start manifesting things that seem "easier" for me to acomplish, i tried manifesting this because it was rare but not impossible. so, like 3 days after i started to embody the state of someone who's always complimented by strangers, i went to the sjopping centre with my friend. then, two guys walked by us and one of them said "i want the instagram of that lady"! notice that during the whole time i was in the state, i visualized that people were asking me for my instagram + i've noted that when i'm in public, i catched people's eye more. yesterday, a guy won't stop looking at me in the café and i think he tried to approach me :)

i'll keep escalating on the "level of difficulty" of the things i manifest as my mentality becomes accustomed to the fact that everything is equally easy to manifest -which is a fact already, i just have a hard time accepting it-, and, of course, i'll be updating ;)

conclusion; look for what works for you. for what makes you feel good & secure that you have already what you want. search a "key" that makes you (actually) not give a f*ck about the 3d, if you have negative beliefs, don't ignore them. work from them, and of course, persist! let your mindset keep you on track.

that was all for today, love ya ♡

[natsuyuki-w]

Desire

Fandom delicious in Dangeon Mithrun of Kerensil x gn!reader " Mithrun of the house of Kerensil, I offer you my strength, my care, and my life. By the duty I once held, and the heed I now give, I swear it. Let it be done. "

1535 words

- Of course! If you think my assistance could be useful, then I am at your command.- You rose from a deep bow, your prosthetics clicking softly in the quiet hall, the sound echoing faintly as you met the sharp scrutinizing gaze of the elven minister. - Though I have to admit,- you added with a hint of dry humor, -I can't say I expected something like this.-

Idle chit-chat was hardly typical of the kingdom's summons, especially with the past month’s chaos, you’d assumed they’d have other priorities.

Not that you’d complain, better a light assignment then something hideous like hitman work.

The man, stoic as ever, offered no further explanation, only waited for your commitment.

-Well then…- you murmured, drawing a breath. Turning, you faced the ash-blond beside, his expression reserved, but gaze intense. Bowing again, you began, - As I stand before you, Mithrun of the House of Kerensil, I renew the vow I once swore to the Queen of all elven kind and the bright kingdom she reigns. Though I no longer wield a blade, I offer you my strength, my care, and my life. I shall be your ally and shield. Your well-being is mine to protect, your burdens my own to bear. By the duty I once held, and the heed I now give, I swear it. Let it be done.-

You relished the regal theatrics, and peering at the intimidating Captain of the Canaries, it had been worth it. Wide-eyed stare, a look that could only be called lost, like a kitten stranded on the wrong branch. Stifling a giggle, you winked. - Thank you for your service, Captain. Now you can retire… with another old folk. -

Outside the palace, Mithrun trailed quietly beside you, keeping closer than expected as you boarded the ship. - Welcome back! - called the ship’s captain, striding over with the crew behind her. - Why, thank you for your hospitality! - your reverenced with elaborate flourish. - Did you get everything sorted out? - the first mate asked, slinging his broad arm around your shoulders.

You were soon surrounded and engaged amused by the enthusiasm. Meanwhile, the ex Canaries, hovered in the background, observing the apparent reunion with a slightly narrowed gaze.

- Who’s the… uh… twig tagging along— The big man stopped short, blanching as he recognized the elf. - Captain Mithrun! M-Mithrun of Kerensil, I… uh… didn’t mean— Without acknowledging the apologies, the skinny elf reached out and took your wrist, quietly steering you away from the group.

A bit surprised, you let him lead. After all thanks to your job, you’d encountered all sorts over the years. So even someone as brisk as Mithrun was no novelty.

Between greetings and nods, the two of you eventually found at last quiet on the ship's poop deck and he broke the silence. - Why are you no longer in the army? - - Oh? They didn’t brief you on my… situation? - - Drop the formalities. - he ordered, sounding utterly formal doing so.

- Sure —buddy - you teased, obviously amused by the dichotomy. - I’ll take it to heart. Now, why don’t we—? - - Why? - he repeated, dead serious. You raised a brow, studying him. - I thought curiosity was the last thing you’d be hanging onto, Captain. -

-...-

Laughter bubbled up before you could stop it. His blank expression was just too much - S-sorry, sorry… - you wiped a tear from your eye, and rolling up your sleeve, revealed your arm. Metal met flesh at your elbow - I’m missing a few… assets… to be a soldier these days - you pointed out, showing him the prosthetic. - Plus, I've been drained of mana. Can’t do much without that too.”

- Couldn’t they just… fix you?- he asked, more interested than you’d expected. - You know better than I that some things can’t be fixed.- You made a small circle with your fingers, peering at his bad eye.

His quiet nod suggested that he understood, though the way he continued to stare was holding expectations for a continuing. - Persistent, aren’t you? Bit late for a background check, don’t you think? - you smirked. - I need to know how troublesome the situation may be. - he replied flatly.

- Ouch. - You placed a hand over your heart in mock hurt. - I don’t even have jabs in my ears.- Proof that you weren’t branded a criminal by the Queen. The elf’s reaction was another blank look, - How about this, a story for a story. - You held out your hand.

Mithrun ignored the sign but nodded in agreement. - Very well. - - O—oh, good! - you weren't expecting to be that easy - Then my question is…-

Before you could finish, a bell rang, signaling the ship’s imminent departure. The clang covered the rest of your words. - If you really want the story, it’ll take a while - he cautioned as the ship began to sway.

- That's fine. - You stretched lazily. - Oh! I could prepare you something in the meantime. Word has it you often forget your own basic needs…- You eyed his unkempt state. It was clear he hadn’t seen a proper bath in ages. - Come on. - and again to your surprise, he followed, letting you tend to him.

You guided Mithrun through a full routine of health and wellness, complete with herbal infusions, explaining the properties of each blend as he listened. You scrubbed his scalp in warm suds, steam rising around him as you rinsed his hair in the bathhouse’s soothing wood-scented mist.

By the time he sat down for a meal, the kitchen’s noise had mellowed, the space feeling homier, welcoming. He ate a bowl of your creamy stew, the warmth filling him as he sat, finally relaxing.

On the other hand, the elf had drained you on a journey to his past.

Other than the weight of his tales, he was a terrible storyteller. Skipping crucial details and hyper-focusing on minor ones. Yet, in his odd mannerisms, you were hooked, hanging on his every word, more curious than ever about your future together.

- That’s freaky as… well, hell - you marveled, finally moving out and staring over the horizon, reflecting on his stories. - I had no idea Dungeons had that sort of "mechanics".- The memories stirred a quiet thoughtfulness in you, recalling your own share of horrors.

- Why did you lose your limbs and magic? - Mithrun’s voice broke your reverie as he leaned in close, the intensity of his gaze startling. - Whoa! You don’t beat around the bush, do you?- laughed and took a step back. - Ever heard of suspense—

Before you could finish, felt a sudden shift, then, in an instant, the deck disappeared beneath you, the world flashing from salty breeze to icy seawater in a blink. A few bubbles escaped your mouth in surprise, but with a bit of thrashing, you found your way to the surface, gasping for breath.

Amid the splashing, you could hear the loud shouts and following the ruckes, your gaze shifted upwords deck. There he was, staring down with his dark gaze looking all too pleased with himself.

You spluttered but quickly dissolved into laughter, the absurdity of it all too perfect to resist. And if you weren’t mistaken, you saw the shadow of a smile on his lips as well.

- What happened? - shouted the first mate already throwing a lifeboat to reach you. Thanks to his large strides, it took him little to come, the wooden sloop shaking from the unsteady grip of his worry - A-are you hurt? - now floating on your back, still giggling like a maniac, you waved him off, and just as your hand reached for his, another surprise.

- Mphf— the air knocked out of your lungs, but this time from the impact of a solid surface. The ex-captain miscalculation of his own strength, brought the both of you on the wooden floor.

You had fallen on top of him, one of his slanky arm under your knees, the other supporting your back. Drenched and dizzy, you gazed up at him. Droplets ran down his ragged yet delicate face, and you could now confirm that glint of amusement in those black pools.

“… I’m gonna throw up,” you gulped and stumbling hurried over the edge of the rail.

After asking the crew to fetch him a towel, Mithrun sighed and remarked, “That’s what you get for being so… stubborn.” You caught your breath, sending him a teasing reply - I’d say we’re a good match, Mr. "I Don’t Need to Eat".-

A ripple of chuckles rolled around the deck as the crew began calling down. Convinced you’d been snatched by a sea monster the desperate sailor had jumped in the icy waters and when attracted by his mates’ voices, finally spotted you giving a lazy wave.

“Still not tired of waiting?” you asked, glancing at Mithrun. - A story for a story, that's what you promised. - he reminded, dark gaze unwavering. - True…- You shrugged with a sly grin. - But I never said when I’d tell it. -

-...-

You took a step back, hoping for some safe distance. - OKAY, OKAY! No more baths!- The other elf shook his head - You sure are a fan of the dramatics. I’m sure it’s not even that big a story. -

- First off… correct. - you admitted - Second… well, I didn’t want to look too lame to my new employer. But I guess after this… I’ll survive the embarrassment. -

To be continued...

[cherrycola27]

Red, White, and Rooster

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption. Frenemies to lovers, relationship of convenience. Political situations. Allegations of affairs, military and political inaccuracies. Smut. 18+ Minors DNI. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

Masterlist Previous Part Next Part Moodboard

Specific Chapter Warnings: child birth, pregnancy, breastfeeding

...........................................

Chapter 19: President Dadshaw

Vice President Seresin was sitting peacefully in the audience of the first independent primary debate. He could tell that you and Bradley had some issues before coming here and that whatever they were, they were weighing heavily on Bradley.

The truth is, Bradley and Jake had never done a debate without you. They hardly ever went anywhere without you. You were their anchor.

Jake was listening to Governor Jackson drone on about he plans for foreign policy when he felt his phone vibrate. He noticed it was Jaycee calling. Jake thought it was odd that she would be calling him because he knew that she knew he was at the debate. Worried something had happened, he alerted Dante and the two of the stepped out.

"Hello?" Jake said into his phone as he and Dante found a secluded corner of the lobby.

"Jake! Oh my god! Thank God you picked up!" Jaycee practically shouted.

"Jay, is everything okay?" Jake asked. He could hear the worry in her voice.

"No! Everything is not okay. You need to get Bradley out of that debate now! Y/N's water broke, and we are about to take her to the hospital!" Jaycee panted. Jake could hear her running around in the background.

"Oh my god! Okay, Dante and I will get him, and we will be there ASAP." Jake replied quickly before hanging up the phone.

"Dante. We need the president now. The Y/N is in labor, and they are taking her to Walter Reed right now. We have to meet them there." Jake stated. Dante nodded his head and sprang into action.

He wasted no time sprinting back into the auditorium and rushing to the the stage.

"Sir, we are in the middle of the debate, you cannot be out here right now!" The moderator shouted. Dante ignored him as he told Bradley what was happening, and his eyes went wide.

"Folks, I must apologize, I— there is an emergency, and I cannot continue with this debate. Please forgive me." Bradley spoke as he turned to follow Dante.

"Is there actually an emergency, or are you just afraid that you're losing, Mr. President?" Governor Jackson sneered into his microphone.

Bradley stopped. His shoulders tensed up before he turned on his heels and stormed his way back to the podium.

"For your information, Mr. Jackson, I've just been told that my wife is in labor, and I would very much like to be there for the birth of my children. Is that going to be a problem? If so, you can send a formal complaint to my office, and I can file it in the exact same place where I would file your foreign policy proposal—in the trash." Everyone was dead silently.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be. Thank you." Bradley said as he nodded his head and left.

....................

"Jaycee, what if Bradley doesn't make it to the hospital in time? What if he misses their birth. I can't deliver these two without him." You panicked as the SUV the two of you were in zoomed through the streets of D.C.

"Eveything is going to be fine. Jake and Dante are bringing him. Don't worry." Jaycee said as she patted your hand. Another contraction ripped through your body. They were getting closer together now and you were freaking out.

The White House staff had already alerted Walter Reed Medical Center that you were on your way, and they would be ready to take you into an operating room as soon as you got there. Dr. Park had explained that it was standard procedure with twins, just in case things went south, but you had planned to deliver naturally if at all possible.

The dark SUV screeched to a hault in front of the emergency doors. A nurse came with a wheelchair as Jaycee helped you in. You were quickly wheeled in where your vitals were taken, and you changed into a pink hospital gown. Soon, you were hooked to monitors for you and the twins and Dr. Park determined you were five centimeters dilated already.

Jaycee sat with you and held your hand as you went through more contractions. In the hurry to get out the door, you'd left your phone. Jaycee was trying to get ahold of Jake and Bradley but was unsuccessful.

"Jay, any word?" You grunted out. "No, love. I'm sorry." Jaycee responded as she gave your had a squeeze.

"How am I supposed to do this without him? I know we had a fight before he left, but I didn't mean what I said, and I know he didn't either. We are both just stressed. What if he isn't coming?" You cried.

"Hey, we aren't going to think like that. I can only imagine the stress you two are under. Bradley loves you more than anything in this world. He is going to be here for you. No debate is more important than you and these two kiddos to him." Jaycee spoke softly as she wiped a tear from your face.

"And if these two are in such a hurry and he doesn't make it, I'll be right here with you holding your hand. You didn't leave me when I needed you, and I'm damn sure not leaving you now." Jaycee assured you with a teary smile.

You smiled back at her and gritted your teeth through another contraction. You briefly thought about calling your mother and father, but they didn't deserve to be a part of this.

"Can you call Penny and Maverick? Bradley would want them to be here." You asked Jaycee. They had flown in earlier this week ahead of your induction. You and Bradley had already decided that they would be the grandparents your children needed and deserved.

Jaycee nodded her head and dialed him. Maverick picked up on the first ring and immediately told Jaycee that he and Penny would be there soon.

................

"Dante! Why aren't we moving?" Bradley shouted from the backseat of his car. His leg bounced nervously against the floorboard.

"Sir, traffic has stopped. It looks like there is an accident up ahead." Dante said.

"How far away are we from Walter Reed?" Bradley asked.

"About ten blocks, sir." Dante informs him. "I'm sure things will get moving soon. My wife was in labor for quite a while with our first one. You shouldn't have anything to worry about." Dante tried to reassure Bradley, who was looking worse for wear.

"Oh shit!" Jake exclaimed when he took his phone out of his pocket. He'd never turned the ringer up, and he had several missed calls and texts from Jaycee. He also had one from Mav and Penny informing him they were on their way.

He quickly called Jaycee, who informed him that you were settled in a room, and apparently, seven centimeters dilated.

He passed the information on to Bradley, and that seemed to only make things worse. "Her labor is progressing pretty fast." Dante remarked. He was trying to keep his cool, but a sweat had broken out across his brow. "Sir, I'm trying, I really am, but we are at a standstill. Jamison, are you picking up any chatter that this might clear soon?" Dante asked his partner.

"Negative, Dante. It's a pile-up. The traffic reports are saying it might take hours to clear." Jamison replied.

Bradley let out an exasperated sigh. He didn't have hours. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He knew how to get to Walter Reed from here, and ten blocks really wasn't that far. Surely he could get there before traffic would clear.

So, he decided on a little less thinking and a little more doing. Before anyone could talk him out of it, Bradley ripped off his purple tie, tore off his suit jacket, and jumped out of the car.

"Rooster! What the fuck are you doing man?" Jake yelled as he and Dante jumped out after him.

"Not thinking! I have to be there for her! I'm not missing this!" Bradley yelled behind him as he started running down the sidewalk in the direction of the hospital as fast as his sleek dress shoes would take him.

Dante shrugged and looked at Jake and Jamison. "Well, aren't you going to follow him?" Dante asked as he looked at his partner. "Why me?" Jamison asked with a befuddled look.

"You're a decade younger than me and have better knees. We can't just let the president run through Maryland by himself. Hop to it." Dante instructed. Jamison shook his head before taking off after Bradley.

Bradley's feet came down hard on the sidewalk. He vaguely heard Jamsion yelling behind him, asking him to slow down, but he wouldn't. He couldn't. Bradley was sure that people in the stopped cars were wondering why the president of the United States was running down the street in the late evening, and he knew there would probably be pictures and videos on social media and in the news that you would inevitably scold him for, but he didn't care.

He'd left you on such a sour note, and now he could potentially miss the birth of his children.

He rounded another block, running right in front of a cab and past a group of middle-aged women and their dogs. He hurdled over a curb before making another turn. Soon, the front of the hospital was in sight.

His legs were burning, his lungs were on fire, and his feet felt like bricks, but he didn't slow down. He ran through the parking lot straight into the lobby. He barreled to a stop right in front of the nurses station and information desk.

"My—I—she—we—where?" Bradley panted out. His hands were on his knees, and his face was flushed as he tried to talk to the poor, startled young woman at the desk. She sat there unsure how to respond. Instead, she silently got up and led Bradley down the hall.

She stopped outside an unmarked wooden door. Bradley could hear your groans of pain as he stood outside. She knocked on the door. It opened, and Bradley wqs quickly let inside.

"Sweetheart!" He exclaimed as soon as he came in. Your eyes darted over to him. "Bradley!" You cried as soon as you saw him.

He tried to rush towards you, but a nurse quickly stopped him. "Mr. President. This is technically an operating room. I'll need you to change and scrub up, just in case They told him. Bradley nodded and was led to a small area where the necessary garb he had to wear was waiting.

Once he was changed and had new shoes, courtesy of the hospital, because his fell apart the moment he stepped out of them, Bradley was by your side.

"I'm here, Sweetheart. I'm right here. And I'm so sorry about earlier." He sighed as he pushed some hair out of your face. Jaycee, now that Bradley had arrived, left to go wait for everyone else in the lobby.

"I'm sorry too. It's just so hard for me to turn off that part of my brain." You told him. "I'm so glad you're here. I hate that you had to leave the debate." You tell him.

"It's fine." He replies. "Why—" You begin just as another contraction hits, and you squeeze his hand. "Why are you so sweaty?" You finish. "Got stuck in traffic. Ran like ten blocks to get here, and my feet are killing me, but it's fine." Bradley half laughs.

"Oh, your feet hurt? Your poor thing." You tell him sarcastically. He opens his mouth to say something. But you lean forward and let out a string of curses as the most powerful contraction of the night rages though you.

"Mrs. Bradshaw, you're ten centimeters. You can push whenever you're ready." Dr. Park informs you. You have Bradley help you lean up and scoot closer to the edge of the bed.

"Bradley, I need you to promise me something." You tell him.

"What, Sweetheart?" He asks you. "If it comes down to it. If it's me or them—" you say.

"No." He cuts you off. "We aren't having this conversation because that's not going to happen." Bradley tells you in his most serious tone. He's read the books and seen the statistics just like you have. He doesn't want to think about anything bad happening because it's not. Everything is going to be fine.

"Bradley, please." You let out a tearful cry. "No, Y/N. I'm leaving the hospital with one wife and two babies. That's final." Bradley states. He prays that by speaking it into existence, it will be true. He doesn't want to think about any other outcomes. He doesn't want to be put in a position where he has to choose.

Bradley knows you'd pick the lives of your children over your own, and he knows you would want him to do the same, but deep down, Bradley was selfish. You could have other children, he couldn't have another you. And if it came down to it, he doesn't know if he would be strong enough to let you go.

He shakes the thought from his head, and you bear down. He wipes your brow and praises you while you are crushing his hand and cursing his name.

"You'd better get me the best damn push present, Bradley. I'm serious because I'm doing twice the work!" You bark out as you push.

"And baby number one is here! It's a girl!" Dr. Park exclaims as she holds up your daughter. Your anger fades into happiness as she is laid on your chest. "Hi, baby girl, welcome to the world." You say. Bradley is speechless as he looks at her in awe. Dr. Park gives the two of you a moment before asking Bradley to cut the cord. You only get a few minutes with your baby girl before it's time for her brother to make his debute.

Baby number two makes a much quicker entrance into the world. Just like his sister, he's placed on your chest for you to admire, and Bradley to be awe struck by.

After both of them are cleaned up and assessed, Dr. Park tells you they both seem to be in good health but wants all three of you to stay for a few days just to be sure. Later that night, you and Bradley are both too tired to sleep. You're both standing over the bassinets as you watch the two little lives you've created sleep peaceful side by side. You and the staff had tried to put them down separately, but they both cried until they were placed next to each other.

"You'd think they'd want their own space after sharing my womb for so long." You joked.

"Maybe this means they'll always be close." Bradley sighed as he placed a kiss to your temple. "You did so good, honey. They're perfect." Bradley praises you.

You smile at each other and enjoy the quiet. But the moment is soon interrupted, but the soft cry of your daughter.

"Oh no. Are you okay, Elle? You ask her as you carefully lift her up, trying not to disturb her brother. She opens her eyes and looks up at you. She blinks slowly before cooing softly. You know she's only a few hours old, but you can already tell she has your eyes and your nose. The dusting of hair on her head is almost the same color as yours.

Soon, your son, who you can already tell, will be his father's twin stirs. It's like he can sense his sister is missing. Bradley picks him up and gently rocks him. "It's okay, Andy. Elle is right here with Mommy. Daddy's got you, buddy." Bradley whispers to him.

After you feed both of them, they fall into a deep sleep. Bradley helps you into your bed before stretching out onto the roll away that was brought for him. Tomorrow, you'll let Maverick and Penny and Jake and Jaycee meet the twins. But tonight, you enjoy the moment where it is just the four of you.

..............

The morning light streamed into your hospital room earlier than you would have liked. You sat up looking for Bradley only to find him shirtless in an oversized chair with the twins on his chests and a blanket covering each of them.

"I gave them each a bottle, and we have just been hanging out. I know you said you wanted to try breastfeeding, but I didn't want to wake you." Bradley whispered to you from across the room.

"It's fine. Fed is best. Think you can handle it for a little bit longer? The lactation nurse said she would be here early this morning to show me the right way to use my pump and to help with latching." You told him. Bradley nodded and continued to live his best dad life as he quietly sang and whispered to the twins.

After a lesson in breastfeeding and pumping, you tried and were able to Andy and Elle to latch. You were able to pump a small amount, and the nurse reassured you that your supply would increase. You took it in stride, knowing you were going to try your best, but you wouldn't feel like a failure if you ended up having to formula feed.

Around lunch, you arranged for Maverick and Penny to come and visit, and Jake and Jaycee would come that evening.

Mav and Penny were speechless when they came into the room. You carefully scooped up your daughter and handed her to Penny once she had sat down. She and Mav looked at her and sighed. "She's beautiful. What's her name?" Penny asked.

"Her name is Eleanora Carole Bradshaw." You beamed at them. "And this is Andrew Nicholas Bradshaw." Bradley said as he gentle put your son in Pete's arms. "But for now, they are Andy and Elle." Bradley smiled. "Andy and Elle. How perfect." Maverick said with a few tears in his eyes.

"Your parents would be so proud." He told Bradley. "I know." Bradley smiled.

"What about your parents Y/N? Don't they want to meet their grandchildren?" Penny asked you.

"As far as I'm concerned, you two are the only grandparents they need. Maybe down the road, we can work something out, but for now, it's Grandpa Mav and Grandma Penny all the way." You assured her.

After a wonderful visit with their grandchildren, Pete and Penny left to let you rest before Jake and Jaycee came.

"So, who is older?" Jaycee asked. You ask she rocked Andy in her arms. "Elle is by thirteen minutes." You told her. "She just couldn't wait to get into the world to meet her Uncle Jake, huh?" Jake cooed as he held Elle. You and Jaycee both knew he was already wrapped around her finger, which was fine because Andy had already stolen Jaycee's heart.

"We have a question." Bradley blurted out.

"What?" Jake and Jaycee asked in unison.

"We want to know if you two would be their godparents?" Bradley asked them.

"Of course!" They both cheered. "How could we say no to these two?!" Jaycee asked as she booped Andy's nose.

"Five bucks says they are expecting less than a year after they get married." You whispered to Bradley as you watched Jake and Jaycee interact with your children. "Twenty bucks says that it's a honeymoon baby." Bradley counters.

"You're on." You snort as the two of you shake.

Soon, the evening wears away, and it's just the four of you again. News of your labor and delivery has spread. There are also several stories with photos and videos of Bradley racing to the hospital on foot. The media is also dragging Gary Jackson after his comment at the debate. A few organizations who support Bradley are already pushing the tagline "Put Governor Jackson where he belongs, in the trash!" You want to be mad at Bradley for that comment, but it's just so funny that you can't.

...................

The twins are exactly a month old when you and Bradley release the first official photo of them.

It's a beautiful family portrait of you and Bradley each sitting in a rocking chair the nursery in the White House. Bradley is dressed in a collared shirt with a sweater pulled over it with some khaki pants and a new pair of loafers. You're in a warm sweater dress and a pair of leggings and some boots. The twins are dressing in matching onsies and caps with their names stitched on them. You're hold Elle, and Bradley is holding Andy.

The caption reads:" The President and First Lady are excited to share the first official photo of the newest additions to their family. Eleanora Carole Bradshaw and Andrew Nicholas Bradshaw arrived on Thursday, January 27th, 2028. President and Mrs. Bradshaw are overjoyed at the love and support the nation as shown them as they have been adjusting to parenthood."

Parenthood had certainly been an adjustment for the two of you. You both knew that you would have a lot to learn, but you'd learn it together.

......................

One chapter left, guys!

Taglist: @daggerspare-standingby @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @hecate-steps-on-me @roosterscock @roosterbruiser @roosterforme @seresinsbabe @startrekfangirl2233 @soulmates8 @xoxabs88xox @avengersfan25 @blackwidownat2814 @loveforaugust @mak-32 @cottagecori @amysteryspot @heyimmadisonn @bradshawseresinbabe @sunlightmurdock @lewmagoo @cassiemitchell @die-cunt @shipinabluebottle @malindacath @violyn20 @imawkwardlysoc @books-for-summer @blackroseboulevard @recordblues @desert-fern @luckyladycreator2 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @sebsxphia @roosters-girl @diorrfairy @je-suis-prest-rachel @mizzzpink @a-linabean @amklibrary @gretagerwigsmuse @jstarr86 @actuallyazriel @krismdavis @bradshawsbaby @wkndwlff @dakotakazansky @multifandomlover4life @princess76179

[drabbles-mc]

Small Price to Pay

Takeshi Kovacs x F!Reader

Summary: In the wake of another close call, Takeshi finds himself once again fighting the urge to pull away from you for your own sake. Not that you've ever been one to let go that easily.

Warnings: 18+, language, blood/injury, angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I've been wanting to write more for Takeshi and when I got hit with this idea I just couldn't turn my back on it. Hope you enjoy!

Altered Carbon Taglist: @garbinge @destinedtobeloved (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

Consciousness tore through you, ripping you down the middle with a gasp that faded into coughs that racked your whole body. You were sitting upright without remembering bracing yourself into that position, each ragged and failed breath sending a lash of pain across your abdomen and into your limbs. You were looking around the room before your vision had completely righted itself. Whether it was disorientation or tears that were making things fuzzy, you weren’t sure. All you knew was that nothing looked clear, nothing felt right.

Blinking your way into clearer vision, you hardly even noticed that the tears were on your cheeks now. You were finally able to take a few regular breaths between coughs, not that it helped your pain subside at all. The room you were in faded into the background as you reached up and touched your own face, feeling for something, anything familiar. All you felt was pain, bruises and open cuts—not the right type of familiarity. Holding your hands out in front of you, some of the tension that you’d so suddenly picked up dissipated. Hands and arms that you recognized. A body that was yours, well, as much as anyone’s body was really their own anymore.

When you felt a hand on your shoulder, you jerked yourself away as best you could, sending yourself into another coughing fit in the process, pain radiating all throughout your body. It was all for nothing—the hand didn’t budge. If anything, its grip tightened, fingers digging into the exposed flesh of your shoulder. It was painful but somewhere in the back of your mind you were aware of the fact that it was the only thing keeping you upright.

“Hey, hey,” he finally spoke up, voice low and rough wrapping around you to help steady you. “You’re alright.”

Clutching his hand with your own, you turned your head to look at him. Takeshi’s face was almost always neutral, feelings always buried a few layers deep under the skin of whatever sleeve he was wearing at the time. Since that was the case, the only coherent thought you could conjure up was that you must’ve looked like you were in even worse shape than you felt, his lips pulled down into a deep frown, worry swirling around his eyes. The tight pinch of his brows undermined his attempt at reassurance.

“Talk to me,” he tried to make it not sound like an order, but it didn’t really work.

“Tak?” was all you managed to get out, your voice hoarse, throat like sandpaper.

His shoulders sagged in relief at the singular word. He let out a deep breath as his hand slid from your shoulder up the side of your throat until he was cupping the side of your face. His thumb was beneath your chin, pressing into it just slightly to tilt your head to make you look up at him. No matter how light his touch was, you could feel the pressure on each bruise and cut on your face. You wanted to pull away from the pain but you couldn’t make yourself pull away from him.

He was in better shape than you, although that wasn’t saying much. There were fewer bruises on his face, and with the dark cloth of his shirt you couldn’t really see or get a good idea of the damage done on that front. You wanted to ask, but you didn’t have it in you. You leaned into the touch of his palm instead, never mind the blood you were smearing onto it.

He watched the way your eyes fluttered shut, the way that you pressed into his touch despite the way it made you wince in pain. Your breathing still hadn’t steadied, but at least you were breathing. There had been a moment when he thought that he’d lost you. Maybe not forever, because real death was hard to come by. But he thought for a moment that he’d be left to carry your stack on a chain around his neck until further notice, until he could get his hands on a new sleeve. And you always hated that, hated the turnover. He liked to chastise you, call you sentimental in a world that had no infrastructure for that anymore. Deep down though he had a certain type of respect for it—not that he’d ever tell you if e could help it. He had lost track of how long you’d been in your current sleeve. Clearly it’d been long enough for him to forget. He didn’t want to see it change either. Maybe your sentimental nature was finally becoming contagious.

“Hey,” he finally spoke up again, glad that your eyes were closed and you couldn’t see the tidal wave of emotions cascading across his face, “we’ll get you patched up, alright?”

You managed a nod, not bothering to speak as you let your head fall from his hand until your forehead was resting against the planes of muscle that ran up his side. You could feel each breath he took that way, keenly aware of every one as his hand came to rest on the back of your head, fingers splaying.

After a few long, silent minutes passed that way, you tried to clear your throat and speak again. It hurt a little less the second time around. “Split your nose open again,” you told him, eyes still closed, face still pressed against him.

He let out a short chuckle. “Split open more than just your nose.”

You wanted to laugh but you knew that it would hurt more than it was worth. You managed a low hum of amusement instead. “How bad?”

“How bad’s it feel?”

The momentary sting of leaning deeper into him was worth the payoff of being closer. “Pretty fucking bad.”

“Yeah.”

“You have to bring me back?”

He sucked in a deep breath—you could feel the impending sigh before you actually heard it. “Yeah. You can’t fuckin’ do that to me anymore.”

You couldn’t fight the laugh that time, and you paid the price for it. “It’s not like I set out with that goal in mind, you know.”

He pulled away from you, much to your disappointment. His hand was instantly coming to cup your jaw, movements gentle and firm all at once as he made you look up and into his eyes. The traces of humor that had been lingering between you were gone—you could see it in his eyes.

He shook his head slightly as he started to speak. “I can do the rest of this on my—”

“Tak,” you cut him off, the smolder of anger blooming in the pit of your stomach no match for the burning pain you were in, but you could still feel the difference.

“I’m serious.”

You wished you had the strength to yell. “So am I.”

“Look at you,” he said, helpless in a way he hardly ever was.

“I’m fine.” He scoffed and you corrected yourself. “I’ll be fine. If I gotta trade in—”

“No,” his tone was harsh, more than he had intended.

You flinched, not expecting it from him. “It’s just a sleeve,” you tried to reason.

“It’s the first thing you look for every time you come back,” he argued.

It was true. Before you cared about your surroundings, or the people with you, you looked to see if you were still the same person you were when the lights went out. Tak had worked overtime to make sure you always woke up recognizing the person in your reflection. You figured it was a professional courtesy, if nothing else something to make his life easier so that he didn’t have to hear you lament about it. This was the first time it ever sounded like he actually cared.

“Like it even matters to you,” you muttered.

“It matters to you,” he said, sincerity dripping from his words in a way you couldn’t ignore or deny.

“Know what else matters to me?” you asked, voice sounding more assured as your mind and body started to get back into sync with each other.

He already knew where it was going. “Don’t.”

There were things that you wanted to say that you wouldn’t. Things that he knew without you having to say them out loud. The look in his eyes said it all, and you were willing to settle for that for now. “We came this far. I’m not,” you lifted your chin from his hand so that you could clasp it with your own, “I’m not leaving you now. And you’re not leaving me.”

He knew even when he started the conversation that it was going to end this way. But he still had to try. Truthfully he didn’t actually want to do the rest of this without you, but that was the selfish part of him talking. That was the part of him that he tried to kill a long time ago but couldn’t ever quite manage it. So onward you two went. But every close call became a heavier and heavier weight resting on his shoulders. Each time it got a little harder to stomach. He never could make himself take off in the dead of night on you, though. You’d probably find him anyway—limp your way to him no matter how many miles or years stood between you.

You could see it in his eyes that even though he was looking at you, his mind busier with much more than just taking in how you looked. You squeezed his hand. “We can lay low here for a beat?”

He nodded. “Until you’re ready.”

It was a relief, to say the least. You sighed, letting your head drop back a little bit and ignoring the pain in your neck. You stared at him for a moment, wishing you could read his mind. Resigning yourself to the fact that you weren’t quite that adept, you kissed his knuckles and asked, “Patch me up?”

He ends of his mouth turned up just slightly, enough to erase the deep frown he’d been sporting for most of the conversation. “Yeah.” He leaned in, leaving a quick, soft kiss on top of your head before pulling away to grab his bag with all his gear. “Gonna have to do it, you know…” he trailed off and held up the thread and needle.

“Old school,” you offered with a weary chuckle.

He was shaking his head at you but you could see the way that his lips pulled up just a little bit more. You watched him as he sat down and started to lay out what precious little he would need to stitch you up and put you back together again.

The two of you had done this dance together so many times neither of you even had to think about it anymore. Your bodies were roadmaps that the other knew every inch of, even the parts that were left uncharted by everyone else. You could recite his scars from memory, find them with your eyes closed, with this sleeve and all the others. If anyone asked him, he could tell them where the two of you were for each stitch and patch job that kept your body together—on the run, in alleyways, in haunts much shadier than that of The Raven, he could recall them all like they were fables from childhood.

He started with the laceration that went across half of your forehead. You closed your eyes, not that it really made all that much of a difference. He cleaned it as best he could before setting about stitching you up. It was too familiar to both of you for him to bother giving you a warning. You winced at the initial puncture, hand darting out and gripping tightly onto his knee.

The pain didn’t lessen as he went along, when he moved from one wound to the next. It was a silent affair, a careful brand of intimacy that required no words and sparing eye contact. It was just his hands on your skin, you trusting that he was doing the right thing no matter how much it hurt. On another day the roles would be reversed and you would be doing the same for him. It would sting and burn him the same way it did you, but the pain was a small price to pay to be alive. It was a small price to pay to wake up each time with someone you trusted.

[wachtelspinat]

Hi, I saw your background with studying medicine and being an artist and I wanted to ask something!! hope it isn't uncomfy. so the school system by itself is killing my creativity and Im afraid I'll completely lose myself if I get into college... Even if I choose to study something art related. College is really absorbing and I don't want to graduate and have killed the only talent I have, thats scary!!! So, how did you "go" back? did drawing help with the stress of college or make it worse? Sometimes my studies define me so so much I cant do anything else, its so frustrating :(

hey there ! i really don't know if i can bring sth to the plate that's positive or uplifting in the matter because i've been in a struggle with art myself for almost 2 years now. i'm really trying to come back but the pace has changed drastically. it's still a constant mood crusher everytime i look back and see how my output has declined. nevertheless i'm drawing again in the smallest babysteps so hopefully i'm gonna pick up the pace again at some point.

as for school and art. yeah. i kind of opened with my current situation because altho (med) school was A Meatgrinder technically speaking i still found time to draw here and there. which was mostly thanks to my higher energy lvl back then and my BIG motivation to draw and to share. so i'd say drawing absolutely helped with the stresses of studying and med school. it was my happy place and escapism. and because of that there was hardly any doubt in my head that i'll ever lose that. so i think it is safe to say that as long as you want to draw you will always be drawing.

second thought here which is also important is that you won't be stuck in an eternal grind, even if it feels like it sometimes. there will be times in which everything sucks. and there will be times in which everything could be worse. and if you wanna draw then, you're going to draw. that's at least how i experienced it. even the longer periods of not drawing because of exhaustion/loss of motivation/exam periods etc eventually pass. and sometimes it's ok to remind yourself that drawing is not everything, altho we like to think that way sometimes. it's absolutely ok not to draw for a while.

another breaking point for me was when i actually started to study for art (anatomy as in for drawing etc) because it helped me at a point at which i felt stuck and it made me understand that i will never be done learning in regards of drawing. which is a good reminder whenever you feel like you are losing your "talent", which is not a talent but a work in progess for years and years to come. so in the end, even if you have to step back from drawing for the time being, you have the ability to always come back to it and get better again. like we have to treat making art like learning a language, there is never an end to it and we have to practice to be back in shape. i know this sounds like work but idk for me it made sth click in my head that i'm not losing sth here. i just have to warm up and get back on the track again.

i hope this helped in some way, i'm really sorry that you feel like you are about to experience a great loss (i absolutely get you, it sucks to deal with this, esp. when outer circumstances force you to push your hobbies in the background) but i think that if you really want to engage with drawing again, you won't lose this. you may have to put work into it, and it may not be today or tomorrow, but if you really want to do it, you keep at it.

[squarewolf77]

I feel like I have been here for days now. Sitting idly by. walking the same path back and forth on autopilot. I hardly feel conscious most of the time, like my mind is running in the background yet never fully aware of whats happening. Sometimes, in small moments I can feel the sand blowing against me. Feel the warmth of the sun.

Tomorrow is my last day here. Been two whole weeks and not a hint of movement. Not that I'm complaining the calm is preferable to the alternative. Every now and then the sensors will light up and pull my attention to something but it's usually a stray bird or the like. The whiplash of the being pulled forward to such a state of focus and then drift back into the background can be pretty taxing on the mind. I will definitely enjoy the few days rest after this.

It's finally here, the last day. The new squad shuffled in and we are out of here. The last day is always tough. First they bring you all the way froward to run a systems check. Then you are pushed so far back you may as well be in a coma. Supposedly its cause the mind cant handle the strain of the desync. Gotta admit even in that unconscious state if feels like I am being torn in half.

All systems are in the green.

Preparing for desync

3

2

1

What.....what is this? Where am I?

Fuck my head is killing me.

Wait, I... I don't remember it feeling like this before.

A rush of air, its defining. I can feel the cold all over my skin. It's never felt this cold before. Is my body shivering or seizing?

The...The light pouring through the crack its blinding. Why won't my vision calibrate? Why can I still see it even when my eyes are closed?

Release that one over there.

I've got this one.

Ok, lets get them up.

Nice and slow.

Make sure to hold them up now we're almost there.

Fuck. I can hardly keep my head up.

I feel like I can hardly move.

Was I always this weak? No.. No I swear I could... Wait no was that?

Ok your gonna feel a slight pinch alright.

Everything is ok you're doing great.

I... I...I...I..... This what is it?

I...It's all coming back. I can feel my fingers agin.

The tendons in my arm, feels like they are recalibrating.

Each, finger

one at a time.

Ok last thing we're gonna disconnect the cable ok.

It's gonna feel a little strange ok but nothing you haven't done before alright.

Shhhhhhhhit! It feels as though my spine is being pulled out through my neck. I can feel a strong jolt through my entire body. Every part of me tense to the point I feel its gonna rip apart. Then suddenly everything lets go. There, there is nothing left, it, she's ...n.. nevermind.

Ok thats it!

You did fantastic!

Take your time ok when you're ready we're gonna help you up and get you outta there ok.

My hands come up slowly, aching, to cradle my head. I feel my fingers slide with apprehension across my forehead and through the thin layer of fuzz on my head. It's soft, cut short. it feels good as my hands lightly brush against it. My fingers slide even further back, down the back of my neck all the way to the port at the base. They trace the edges of it, where the cold metal meets my skin, the point where we were just one. My arms close around my face as I feel tears begin to roll down my cheeks.

It's more than just the desync. They rip out a part of me ever time I step out of that cockpit. I can feel memories, absent. Gaps where it wasn't just you or me but us, missing. I am only half of a whole agin. An incomplete being. They pull us apart to make us rely on them make us serve them. I always forget when we are together but it becomes painfully clear when you are no longer there.

It's ok, take all the time you need.

Your mind will reacclimate just give it time.

A lie they tell every time. Sure it becomes more bearable over time, but your absence is always felt. The echos of you in my mind linger. I know it is only a week without you but I can't seem to gather the strength to step out of the cockpit. To leave you behind. Alone. I sit motionless in your frame. Both of us touching yet unable to connect.

[izloveshorses]

we're almost to the halfway mark, so i thought i'd share another progress update on this little (big) project!! (previous update)

i've almost finished drawing half of all the assets (according to my spreadsheet) and then we can start assembling them into a "book." the bulk of the assets are characters/costumes, but i've also completed several props and started working on some backgrounds as well. I need to decide how the book will be laid out before i make much more progress on those, though. i've been trying to hold off on finishing the principal cast because i think saving them for ~dessert~ will keep me motivated to power through the rest, but i'm so anxious to get to them because i want to play with them in photoshop and put them on their associated backgrounds like little paper dolls 🙈 so that's why ballet tuxedo!dmitry doesn't exist yet, and why i've yet to color the rest of anya's act ii wardrobe.

anyway. progress in my workflow is hardly ever linear, but you can kind of see how i approach the rendering process from these images, i hope. the drawing carries the weight of the image so that step always takes the longest, since getting the likeness, the proportions, the folds, and the expressions right is the most important. if any of that looks off no skillful painting or rendering can save it.

and then i always color skin first because everything else (clothes, hair) goes on top of skin. you can see the color palette i'm using is the same for almost all of them, though act ii requires a few more saturated hues than act i (bright blue, some reds, and green every once in a while). coloring the rest in doesn't usually take very long. once the flats are down i go in for a final pass, laying down those patterns and textures that always give me a hard time lol. and then i clean up and recolor the line work and mark it as done! since i'm working digital i use alpha lock and clipping masks for that.

director's cut commentary of each image included (under the cut bc this post is already so long):

anya's act ii lineup. her phtk outfit is the only one i've marked complete (the linework on the others is still black and need just a few more touchups). I've yet to lay in the flats for the maroon travel coat because i think the drawing needs more work. i might change a few things on big red, maybe her expression, but i haven't decided yet.

dmitry's act ii lineup (sans tuxedo). he just needs a final pass on the first two on the left, and then his finale look is finished, because it's the same from act i :)

vlad's act ii lineup. he's almost done, just needs a final pass on the finale and phtk outfits.

lily's act ii lineup. i'm going to redo the pattern on her neva club dress (linda cho i love u but god) but otherwise she's all finished.

the dowager's act ii lineup. she's done! :) maybe i'll find something to pick at later but rn i'm marking her done lol.

petersburg citizens from rumor! i think these guys are all done. there are more people i could include, but there isn't enough variation on the costumes to make it worth it imo.

neva club patrons. the only two marked complete are the two on the left, sergei the doorman/the male server and count leopold. i still need to find a good reference for the female server lol.

the press! just the men for now lol. i used the obc program as a reference for this one, so i'll get the two ladies in soon :)

the hussies! i've marked it complete, but. we'll see if there's more adjustments i can make.

there's still more i've completed that's not pictured, but i'll definitely share more soon. act i is nearly finished entirely, which is cool, and the only big ensemble sheet i've yet to make much progress on is everyone in phtk. i may end up just drawing one or two people from that and then copying them with different patterns because, honestly, the shape of the dresses and suits are all very similar. hopefully that won't be boring to look at lol.

if there's anything in particular you'd like to see/have any questions, or even suggestions, lmk!! and follow my 'anastasia illustrated guide' tag for more updates :)

[bestanimatedmovie]

Choose your favorite!

Vote in the other polls!

What fans say:

Inside Out:

Besides the fact of "being a Pixar movie", this movie is a masterpiece, and it has really impacted me. Its message about accepting that "bad" emotions such as sadness are part of life and have its positive side and that "good" emotions like joy can be negative and toxic is really important and one that I'm still trying to internalize 8 years since I first watched the movie.

Wolfwalkers:

The animation is absolutely gorgeous, with a unique style. The music is wonderful, the story is touching. What's not to love!!!!!!

It's beautiful! If I'd watched this as a young girl it would've done something to my brain, in a good way. It's about being stifled by England and those in power, in 1600s Ireland. It's about little girls becoming best friends. It's really sweet, and wonderful. I love the scene where Robyn gets to really have fun and play as a wolf.

Wolfwalkers has beautiful stylized animation. The story is about conflict between the oppressive English colonizers of an Irish town, and their old ways of living in harmony with the forest. When the main character Robyn is in the town, the style she and the backgrounds are drawn in have an angular style made up of flat shapes that don‘t turn in perspective, similar to a woodcut print, showing the limitedness of the town worldview. When Robyn is in the forest at first she is drawn in the town style, but as she is introduced to Mebh, the style shifts to a loose, pencil-lined style with soft shapes and forms that turn three-dimensionally. Later, at key points in the story, Robyn shifts between these styles to reflects whether she is conforming to or breaking away from the town‘s rigid system. It‘s a beautiful way to subtly tie animation to storytelling. I also of course love the story for its queer, environmentalist, and anticolonial themes. It‘s an excellent movie and everyone should see it.

It has some wonderful animation, especially in the wolf scenes, and tells a story that pulls from the history of the English colonisation of Ireland.

The art style is gorgeous and the story is lovely.

It is the most beautifully done 2d animation I've ever seen, beautifully drawn and with such interesting stylistic choices for the backgrounds and the character design, the best shapes. Perspective is really played around with in wide shots that show the town, giving it an even more boxy and closed-off feel to it! My favorite scene would have to be when the song Running With The Wolves by AURORA plays. It makes me cry like a baby they're so beautiful and playful and free and learning to have strength and courage.......

It tells a really beautiful story about identity and friendship and being brave enough to stand up to your oppressors

The animation is gorgeous and well-utilized to convey tone/mood and also little wolf girls are valid and the scenery is [chef’s kiss]

The animation is really stylized which I like. The art style is one-of-a-kind, changing slightly depending on what's happening in the story. Like, for example, Robyn, one of the main characters in the story, started being drawn using cleaner lines when she was still "civilized", in contrast to Mebh, a girl from a tribe that lives in the forest and can turn into a wolf. As Robyn started becoming "wilder", spending time w Mebh, the lineart becomes more sketchy. It's just a really really pretty film. The story is also really really good. The characters are complex and develop throughout the movie. You can understand why Robyn's dad acts the way he does, but still allows him to see the errors in his ways. Also Mebh and Robyn are just fuckin adorable. This movie made me cry so hard and I hardly ever do that Also the soundtrack? MYGOD. perfect. Favourite scene is definitely Mebh and Robyn's wolf scene where Robyn was learning how to be a wolfwalker. The music and animation in that is so good. Idk i really i really love this movie bc it feels so... ALIVE. It uses the animation medium really well, doesn't shy away from the 2Dness and stylizeness of it, which I wish more animated stuff would do.

The animation !!!! Is so gorgeous !!! The art style is so gorgeous, in some places super details and in some moments mimicking medieval styles with symbolic (rather than realistic) perspective, it's so so so beautiful. The music is also amazing, and the story is beautifully put together, it will make you weep.

[starrysharks]

could you show a little bit of your art progression over the years? your style is absolutely magnificent btwbtw!!

sure ! i've done a similar post, but that was focused on shape language and didn't go over all of my art progression. i'll link it at the end of this post!

anyway, i started digital art around 7 years ago, but all of the art from that period is essentially lost. at that time, it was just deviantart bases and various furry/warrior cats fanart made in MS paint. while i'm not a fan of vivziepop anymore, she was a big inspiration at that time, as well as a handful of popular animation meme artists at the time. around 2019, i started making art in krita using a mouse. and later that year, i started making art in ibispaint (mostly skullgirls fanart). unfortunately, practically everything from before 2020 is lost because it was on reddit accounts that i had deleted out of cringe. don't delete your old art ever!!! i do have this piece though, made in 2020 on krita with a mouse. my main inspirations were invader zim and other cartoons.

my artstyle took a lot of dips and turns around this time. i got back into anime, and it influenced my style in a way that i think made it really ugly and bad looking. i also refused to ever flip my canvas. i think this era actually held me back. here's an example.

anyway, by 2021, i had gotten into more anime that influenced my style in a different way. i forget the exact ones, but i did watch a lot of stuff from trigger (like BNA and LWA) at the time, and also got into enstars which influenced my compositions a lot. it's also around the time that nova in her current "space astronaut bunny" concept was born. i started experimenting with backgrounds, color palletes, and colored lines, which was crucial. i look back at this era pretty fondly. though i still refused to flip my canvas :D

by 2022, my artstyle looked like this -

(this is actually from dec 2021 but like. it's still what my artstyle looked like)

i had played world's end club and rewatched panty and stocking, and it changed my brain chemistry. i decided that my artstyle would be "60% anime, 40% western cartoon", and despite some shortlived phases where i'd go for a slightly different style, i still kept it up. looking at least year's art summary, though, you can see that i broke away from that style for something more anime. and also, i hardly ever experimented with colors anymore because i was focused on character design. i'm gonna be real i think everything after july looks like absolute bootycheeks. i hate this weird single tiny dot reflection style i had going on it looks like dogwater.

after 2022, my art was in a miserable transitional period where i had zero clue what direction i wanted to go in. but despite all that, this piece in particular is crucial. because i used halftones in the background. it's foreshadowing!!!

i continued like this for a while, until the time where i decided to play around with shapes with those vocaloid big 8 drawings. people really liked the shapes that i used in that one, and i found them fun to draw. so i started exaggerating more, and after i rewatched panty and stocking for the 307492020506th time, as well as invader zim for the 2nd time, my cartoony roots came back.

and then, when my art was already steadily improving, across the spiderverse dropped, and i watched it. funnily enough afterwards i had a big art block because i was just thinking, "you need to draw if you want to work on something as big as that! improve!!!!" which kind of held me back. but after all that, i decided to take a note out of ATSV (and comic books in general)'s book and start using halftones in my work. as well as that, i started focusing on lineart way more, and tried to play around with lineweight. which brings us to present day, where my latest art pieces look like this :

i still think that my artstyle needs a lot of work. even these pieces have issues when it comes to symmetry, values, and the like. but nowadays, though my art takes far longer now (as i've abandoned special pens and just do lineart with the hard dip pen in a kind of tedious way), i'm having more fun with it than i have in years. i think halftones fit my artstyle really well, and they're a unique way to "fill up" areas. now that i pay attention to lineart, i think it makes my art feel 'fuller', at least with more depth. did i mention my inspirations for this current 'phase' of my art? :0 i've been playing a lot of muse dash lately, and my pinterest boards are always full of stuff from TWEWY and megaman. there's far more than that, but in short, i want a sharp and striking style with bright colors. i know that you said a little bit of my progression and i basically dropped a whole essay 😭 ,,, but i really like talking about art in general even if i'm not very good at it. i hope this was interesting at the very least! here's the other post also:

[s10127470]

As I'm sure many of know, it was announced this week that the Max original animated series, Velma, has been officially cancelled after two seasons and a Halloween special.

And the entire Internet collectively went.....

And rightfully so.

Velma was truly a one of kind show.

It was the thing that brought just about everyone....

From all walks of life....

From all cultural backgrounds....

Together. To all collectively say...

"This is legitimately one of the worst things to ever be created by a human being."

Just about everyone has gone over everything wrong with this show, as it's flaws are blatantly obvious to anyone over the age of 10.

The mystery and story is bare bones and a total joke, with hardly any effort put into it.

The humor is an unholy amalgamation of all the worst styles that have been plaguing tons of media for the last decade.

From ha-ha funny man quips, to pop culture references, to everyone's favorite.....META HUMOR!

In the words of my GOAT Cartoonshi.....

"The Marvel Cinematic Universe and Rick and Morty and their consequences have been quite disastrous for the human race."

The show prioritizes an agenda over the actual story.

And even then, it's done so half-assed and with little to no sincerity.

It's social commentary is borderline offensive and is often years to DECADES behind the curve.

Its characters are either bland, terrible, annoying, or in the case of Velma herself, The Anti-Christ.

And most importantly of all, it's a DISGUSTINGLY spiteful show.

Like, I've seen shows and movies made out of pure incompetence.

I've seen MANY made out of pure greed.

But I've never seen a show or a movie made purely out of spite.

Like, this series is just dripping with disdain towards the Scooby-Doo IP and the even medium of the animation as a whole.

And with all that considered, you can't help but wonder....

Why was this show made?

It's pretty clear that the people behind this show hate Scooby-Doo, so why are they even trying to make a series based on the IP then?

Well....

If The Witcher, Rings of Power, and She-Hulk: Attorney at Law has taught me anything, people in Hollywood have these vendettas against popular IPs for some reason and wanna spite people for liking them.

So they create pretty half-assed and unfaithful adaptations of the work because they love seeing the fans of those IPs getting angry at them.

I know that sounds dumb, but this is Hollywood we're talking about.

But anyway, pretty much everyone on the face of the Earth was happy to know this piece of shit was finally dead.

Made even better with the fact that the series ended with Velma literally DYING and getting her soul sent to Hell.

If there's one thing you give the show, it at least had a happy ending.

But back on topic, people were celebrating about Velma being over.

Except for a few individuals.

Yes. There are a few individuals who have a problem with people celebrating the cancellation.

And guess where this is all happening.

You guessed it, it's Twitter.

Because of course it is.......

Where else can you find people having a problem with something actually good and positive?

As for why those individuals have an issue with people celebrating the cancellation of Velma, it's because of the fact that the artists and animators on that show are now out of a job and basically we're celebrating these people losing their jobs.

Okay, I have some things in response to this.

If there's one good thing about Velma, it was that it had really good art direction.

The character designs and art-style were really strong and dynamic, the animation was solid throughout the series, and the backgrounds were really pleasant to look at.

It's pretty clear that the artists and animators on this show were very talented.

Wished their talents were used for a much better show....

Also, I can kinda see why this would look bad.

The animation industry has been in a very turbulent place lately.

And one of the many reasons for it has been the mistreatment, overworking, and underpayment of animators and artists.

So celebrating the cancellation of a show does seem like a dick move.

Even if the show is terrible, at least the artists and animators are getting work.

However, in typical Twitter fashion, I feel like they've blown this whole situation out of proportion.

And the reason I say this.....well, allow me to introduce you to Lauren Mattson.

She's an artist based in Burbank, California, who currently works at Warner Bros. Animation.

Just this Wednesday, YouTuber Saberspark had posted a video on the recent announcement of Velma's cancellation.

And among the comments, one of them was from her.

Essentially, she revealed that was part of the crew that worked on Velma for entirety of the series.

And she did confirm that Velma was in fact over and done with, as the execs at WB have their minds on other things right now.

But the thing that really caught my eye was that Lauren said that she's glad the show is gone.

She pointed out how in spite of the friendly production crew and the surprisingly good work schedule, working on this show was a total chore.

Though she didn't really go into detail on why besides having to sit through the animatic reviews.

And I honestly think she doesn't really need to.

Why?

IT'S FUCKING VELMA.

It's flaws are just that apparent.

Like, I already had the suspicion that nobody besides Mindy and her circlejerk of writers actually enjoyed working on this show.

But this essentially confirmed it for me.

And if you want to bring up the problem of the artists and animators being out of a job, well.....

According to Lauren, she and rest of the crew have already moved on to other projects.

So yeah.....this cancellation is not really as bad or disgusting as Twitter keeps trying to make it out to be.

Like, the artists and animators have already moved on other projects, so I don't see the problem here.

And even then, out of all the shows that got cancelled in recent years, why are people pulling the whole "artists and animators losing their jobs" card for VELMA of all things?!

I don't even recall seeing this for shows like Inside Jobs or The Owl House.

You know, shows that were actually good and liked by the majority of the Internet.

And even among the seas of bad shows, I've never anyone pull this card for shows like The Prince or Santa, Inc.

Which may I remind you, both of which were cancelled after just one season.

Hell, the latter of the two was essentially canned the moment it premiered.

But anyway, that's all I have for now.

I know this wasn't exactly the most structured, but remember, I was trying to make sense out of something from Twitter.

That already speaks for itself.